The French Minister of Justice has ordered an inquiry to be opened into the circumstances in which Mr. Bertie Mariott, an English journalist, states he was wrongfully confined in a lunatic asylum at Clarenton last year. The wives of the crew of the French warship Tage complain that their husbands, who embarked on May 5, 1901, have not left the ship to return home since that time, though they were commis- sioned only for 24 months.
I WOMAN'S WORLD. IRISH POINT. ■1 VAP Inniskmacsaint lace, a specimen of which was lately presented to Queen Alexandra, is an Irish eauivalent of rose [Joint lace, and derives this formidable title from a village in Fermanagh. The manufacture was transferred thither on the death of Mrs. Maclean, wife of the rector of Tynan, and owner of some old point de Venise, which she utilised for the industrial educa- tion of the local peasantry. Innishmaesaint has now become the chief centre of the Irish rose point industry. As at Tynan, the art of making the lace has been learnt by the unravelling and close ex- amination of Venetian point. WHEN TO WED. There is a superstition in regard to the ill-luck sure to follow those who marry when the moon is on the wane. People who seri- ously regard this superstition set their bridal day between the periods of the new and full moon. Among the superstitious there is a strong aversion to wedding in May, for an ancient couplet reads: "Marry in May, And rue the day." Even Sir Walter Scott thought May an unlucky hymeneal month, for he purposely hastened from London so that his daughter's wedding might take place before the arrival of the inauspicious month. The fateful marriage of Mary, Queen of Scots, to Both- well occurred on May 15, 1567; and on the bridal morning a quotation from Ovid about the ancient superstition was found nailed to the gate of Holy- rood Palace, in which the marriage took place. Here is the ancient rhyme regarding the favour- able and unfavourable months for marriage Marry when the year is new, Always loving, kind and true When February birds do mate You may wed, nor dread your fate. If you wed when March winds blow, Joy and sorrow both you'll knuw. Marry in April when you can, Joy for maiden and for man; Marry in the month of May, You will surely rue the day; Mary when June roses blow, Over land and sea you'll go. They who in July do wed Must labour always for their bread; Whoever wed in August be, Many a change are sure to see. Marry in September's shine, Your living will be rich and fine. If in October you do marry, Love will come, but riches tarry; If you wed in bleak November, Only joy will come, remember; When December's snows fall fast, Marry, and true love will last. STRANGE BRIDAL GIFTS. Not infrequently wedding gifts I are the outcome of jealousy, 1 spleen, or malice. A well-known author received on his marriage from a rival man of letters a scrap-book containing a collection of all the adverse criticisms his works had ever received, while a popular artist was on a similar occasion presented with a set of elementary works upon self instruction in drawing and painting. Unusually vexatious was the gift received from his neighbours by an infirm octogenarian who had wedded a pleasure-loving woman more than fifty years his junior. It took the form of a large brass cage, intended "—so ran the subscriber's note —" to restrain the wayward flights of a giddy young wife who had married a decrepit old fool for his money." The husband of a lady whose great beauty was discounted by her sharp tongue found among his wedding presents a scold's bridle or branks a gift from his wife's sisters, with the hope that if Kate makes your life as unbearable as she has made ours, you will not hesitate to put the accompanying offering to its original use." "I willingly countenance your marriage with my daughter," wrote a physician to his prospective son-in-law, "condi- tionally on your accepting as a wedding present— her mother. As a wife, she has not been a success; as a mother-in-law, she is at least problematic. At all events, I can endure her temper no longer, and as she expresses a wish to live with her daughter I am sending her along by the next train." In due course the lady arrived, and has lived with the young wife ever since. PICTURESQUE PARTY. The bridal party at a recent fashionable wedding was unusu- ally picturesque. The bride wore an entire robe of beautiful antique Brussels lace over silver tulle and soft white chiffon, bordered round the hem with an insertion of dia- mond and silver embroidery, combined with small trails of orange blossom. The bodice, cut square at the throat, had a transparent yoke of Brusssls lace and was caught down at the front with dia- mond and pearl tassels. The Watteau train of white satin was richly embroidered in pearls and silver and draped from the shoulders by a Brussels lace shawl, caught with crystal embroidery. A coronet of orange blossoms was worn with a tulle veil, and the bride's ornaments were pearls, while she carried a lovely bouquet of orchids, lilacs, and orange blossoms. Behind her walked the pages, in picturesque Charles I. costumes of pale blue satin, with short slashed trunks and sleeves and capes slung from the shoulder, trimmed with silver. Each carried a high, silver-topped cane, attached to which was a bunch of forget-me-nots, tied with long narrow ribbon streamers. Then came the six little girls, da'inty figures in costumes of the same period, of white satin, with Watteau pleats to the long frocks, short waists, puffed sleeves and pale blue ribbons across the bodices. They wore white silk mittens and carried a single staff of lilies. TEOUSSEAUXS OF YESTERDAY. The modern trousseau is very unlike the one that our grand- mothers rejoiced in. The girls of I three generations ago began work on their wedding things when they were children. They made embroidery and lace and packed them away with the linen sheets and pillow cases that they learned their stitches on for such a time as they should marry. In those days every girl felt that it was her mission in life to marry, and if she had not done so when she reached twenty-five she put on a cap and sat and knitted in the chimney corner, con- tent to play the part of the maiden aunt for ever after. The girls who did marry made elaborate pre- parations for the event. They sewed, and all the slaves of the household sewed, and all the seam- stresses that were to be had sewed, until a great pile of garments was ready for the fair bride. These were packed into innumerable trunks and sent to the new home of the happy couple for the noble purpose of impressing the bridegroom's family. The respect of one's in-laws" in those days was in direct proportion to the number of posses- sions that this latest member of the family boasted. One very old lady, up to the time of her death, was fond of telling of the glories of her trousseau. I had twelve dozen of everything, my dears," she would say, impressively, and forty new frocks—twelve silk ones and the other d6laines and poplins. Indeed, my wedding wardrobe was quite celebrated in our county. And I never did wear it out. I cut down the dresses for my children, when they grew old enough to wear them, and the underclothes lasted through three genera- tions. Only the other day I came across a frag- ment of one of my old full petticoats, as yellow as yellow could be, but still holding together. I was two years making that trousseau, with the help of the servants, my sisters and my mother, and they say the day I was married I looked more like a ghost than a" flesh-and-blood girl, I was so thin and pale. I swooned twice while I was dre&- sing for the wedding and three times during the reception, I was so worn out with my exertions. It took me a long, long time to recover my health." I shouldn't think it paid," her descendants will sometimes say. But, my dear, I couldn't go to Robert without plenty to wear," she explains. I had his position, as well as my own, to consider, and your grand- father was a man of affairs whom the whole county respected, and I had to take that into considera- tion."
I HOLIDAY MISHAPS I RAILWAY SMASH AT PRESTON. A serious railway collision, in which several persons were injured, occurred at Preston on Saturday evening. It appears that a well-laden excursion train from Blackpool to Yorkshire was slowly moving out of the station when another Blackpool train coming behind plunged into it. The interior of the last carriage thereon, pai t of which was the guard's van, was reduced to matchwood. The engine of the colliding train penetrated more than half-way into the carriage, pounding everything before it. he guard for- tunately was on the platform at time. There were a few passengers in the fore com- partments of the comosite carriage, and they had a miraculous escape from death. They were extricated with difficulty from the debris, and their injuries were immediately attended to. The most serious case was that of a lady named Nellie Wilson, of Snakehill, Mirfield, who had both legs fractured. The following were removed to the infiri,-iary Ann. Collanasse, Thornhill Common, near Dewsbury, scalp wound and shock. Ruth Fisher; Carlton-road, Dewsbury, scalp wound. Mark Fisher, Dewsbury, scalp wound. About 25 other persons sustained bruises and sprains. All were attended to by the company's employees and members of the police force. One of the passengers, in an interview, said that the occupants of the train were nearly all from Dewsbury and Mirfield, and were return- ing from Blackpool after a week's holiday. The train started on its journey at 4.40. The first stop was to be Sowerby Bridge, but for some reason or other a stoppage was made at Preston. "We had not been in the station more than three minutes," continued the passenger, "when there was a terrific crash, and everybody was thrown about in confusion. We were in the centre of the train, and although sustaining a shock, we fared better, singular to say, than those in the front portion of the train." Another passenger in the same train stated that he was remarking to a friend that some 25 years ago he was in a' railway accident, and the words had barely escaped him when the crash came. The driver and fireman of the colliding train had a lucky escape. I COLLISION AT BIRMINGHAM. A railway collision took place at Birmingham on Saturday midnight. A Midland train from Bristol to the North ran into a North-Western engine at New-street Station. The driver of the stationary engine, David Senior, and the fireman, Joseph Meyson, both of Huddersfield, were thrown on to the permanent way, and Senior was badly injured, and lies in hospital. The Midland engine was derailed, and the train was delayed considerably. The train was crowded with excursionists, who were greatly alarmed and shaken, but not otherwise injured. I THE COLLAPSE OF A CRICKET STAND. The grand stand collapsed while the Inter- County cricket match between Perthshire and Forfarshire was in progress, at Perth, on Satur- day afternoon. About six hundred persons were on the structure at the time, and of these one hundred were more or less hurt. Twenty-six cases were treated at the Infirmary, and several were detained. The most serious were those of a man who has sustained internal injuries, and a boy, aged 11, who was wedged between two planks, and who is suffering from fracture of the base of the skull. When the stand fell, the spectators at first did not realise what had happened, but when it dawned upon them that serious injury might have been caused to several of the six hundred people who were seated, a rush was at once made across the field, and soon a willing band of workers were helping the unfor- tunate individuals from the wreckage. It was at once seen that the majority had escaped with slight cuts, bruises, and strains, and that some had come through scatheless but others were not so fortunate. The barricading was pulled down, and improvised stretchers made, on which the more seriously injuired were carried into the cricket tent and the pavilion. In a short time quite a number of doctors were upon the scene-in fact, several had been witnessing the game when the accident occurred. The medical men. with members of the various Ambulance Corps, and the Army Medical Corps at Perth I Barracks, at once set about to relieve the suffer- ings of the injured.
THE PRINCESS'S HOLIDAY. I The Princess of Wales left Beatenberg on Monday for the Jungfraublick, Interlaken, which is beautifully situated among pine woods and faces the famous mountain. The weather is showery and unsettled. The King's courier ac- I companies the Princess. Interlaken is crammed I with smart people, and it is almost impossible to get a bed.
I STRANGE MEMORY FAILURE. A young man entered the Coventry Police Sta- tion on Monday, and when questioned was un- able to state his name or residence, or the town in which he lived. The doctor sent him to the workhouse, where he was put to bed. The in- dustrial .trainer read out a list of names to the young man. When he came to the name of Davis the man exclaimed, "That's it," then fell back unconscious. On recovering consciousness the stranger stated his name was Arthur Davis, he came from Edgbaston, but had no recollection whatever of how he reached Coventry. His sudden lapse of- memory is attributed to a fall.
I LIONS IN A BALLOON. A sensational balloon ascent was made at Rou- baix on Sunday by a lion-tamer named Henri and two aeronauts-MM. Jean Weillat, of Paris, and Duchateau, of Roubaix. A specially-constructed car was attached to the balloon, and in this) were placed two lions. Henri entered the car, and then the aeronauts climbed up upon seats provided on a higher platform. The animals took little interest in the earlier proceedings. They comfortably settled them- selves, and seemed to enjoy the novelty of their surroundings rather than otherwise. But when the words "Let go" had been ut- tered, and the balloon shot up into the sky, they became agitated, crouched in the bottom of the car and whined piteously. Soon afterwards a sudden downward rush of gas almost asphyxiated the lions, the tamer, and the aeronauts. Duchateau fainted and became very ill, and the lions lay motionless.. When the descent was made the animals were found stretched out on the bottom of the car, apparently lifeless, and restoratives had to be ap- plied to Duchateau before he recovered.
I THE ARGYLL ELECTION. _1't. nn.'Y\f"i. The campaign in Argyubmxo, with the bye-election caused by the death of Mr. Nicol, began on Monday, when Mr. Charles Stewart, the Unionist candidate, addressed a meeting at Connel Ferry, a village six miles from Oban. This was Mr. Stewart's first public appearance in the county. It is evident that the election is to be fought entirely on the fiscal question, and Mr. Stewart devoted his first speech to that subject. Mr. Ainsworth, the Liberal candidate, spoke at Oban on Monday night, and made a strong free trade declaration. The present is the most suitable period of the year to conduct an election contest in a large and scattered constituency like Argyll. The county is 3,255 square miles in extent, and includes about a dozen islands, while the main- land is penetrated by a long arm of the sea. Facilities of travel are at their best during the summer months.
I ART AND LITERATURE. The brilliant portrait painter, Mr. Solomon J. Solomon, mod to tell the &tory how, on one occa- sion durirg the Royal Academy varnishing days, one of his fellow-artists mistook him for a car- penter, and tried to force a shilling into his reluc- tant hand, with a genial "You are the man who washed my picture, are you not?" Mr. Solomon answered: No, sir, it was the other man." You may keep the shilling for yoar honesty," replied the i:,l' rous artist, and this shilling has been pre- sencG by the ItA. with great care. The women students of the Government schools of art have every reason to congratulate them- selves on the result of the National Art Competi- tion, the prize works in which are now being ex- hibited at the Victoria and Albert Museum. In one or two competitions of pilst years the women have carried off a majority of the gold medals, but this year they have surpassed all their previous achievements by taking three of the four awarded. All the three gold medals for design have been taken by women; the fourth, gained by a male student, has been awarded for modelling from the life. A study of the list of examiners shows that few changes have been made since last year. The names are missing of the late Mr. E. F. Brewtnall, R.W.S., of Mr. H. S. Tllke, A.R.A., and Mr. Henry Holiday but, on the other hand, the list has been strengthened by the addition to the sculptor-judges of Mr. George Frampton, R.A. Mr. Byam Shaw makes his first appearance as an examiner, fittingly enough in the section of book illustration. It will be noticed by those who read the list of examiners that the names of several of these gentlemen (those of Mr. E. J. Gregory, R.A., and Mr. Nelson Dawson, among others) are followed by Hon. A.R.C.A., London." The A.R.C.A., London," sometimes L confused with the Associateship of the Royal Cambrian Academy, is the Assoeiateship of the Royal College of Art, which is conferred on those students who have passed at least two years in the training classes of the college and have gained certain certificates. The Duke of Devonshire has compared it with a university degree. The honorary diploma has lately been conferred on Mr. Gregory, Mr. Nelson Dawson, Mr. J. J. Shannon, and many other prominent artists because they were formerly students at the Royal College of Art. A highly interesting publication is the Popular Reprints of the Times' and other early English Newspapers and Documents," issued by the Curio Publishing Company of London. It contains the Roll of Battle Abbey, 1066; Magna Charta, the Facsimile and Translation, 1215; the Death Warrant of Mary Queen of Scots, Facsimile, 1587; the Invasion of England (" English Mercurie," July 23, 1588); the Death Warrant of Charles I., Facsimile, 1648; the Death of Oliver Cromwell (the" Gazette," Sept. 6, 1658) the Plague (the "Newes," July ö, 1665); the Fire of London (" London Gazette," Sept. 10, 1666); the Siege of Limerick, 1691' the Siege of Gibraltar (" Edin- burgh Courant, No. 1, 1705); the Battle of Preston Pans (" London Post," 1745); the First Number of the Times," Jan. 1.1788; the Execu- tion of Louis XVI. (the -'Time. Jan. 26, 1793); the Mutiny at the Nore (the" Times," July 3, 1797); the Battle of the Nile (the Times," Oct. 3,1798) the Battle of Copenhagen (the Times," April 16. 1801); the Battle of Trafalgar (the u Times," Nov. 7, 1805); and the Battle of Waterloo (the "Times," June 22, 1815). The reprints are of great illuminative value, because of their absolute accuracy in the matter of get-up and vraisemblance. It will be a delight to the lover of the doings of other days to get hold of a copy of this memectorial budget. The idea and the execution are worthy of the highest praise. Among the many other interesting things in Mr. Murray's new list is a volume of Personal Reminiscences of the Duke of Wellington from hitherto unpublished memoranda by the first Earl of Ellesmere, the statesman, poet, and historian, who died in 1857, edited by his daughter, Alice, Countess of Strafford; also a book on -1 The Middle-Eastern Question or the Political Problems of Indian Defence," by Mr. Valentine Chirol, based on the series of letters written to the Times" a few months ago from Persia, Turkish Arabia, and India, and revised with con- siderable additions for the book. The State of Iowa has just been presented with an historical collection concerning men and events in its settlement and development. Iowa has no archives, and the donor had spent his life in gathering the materials. The best historical collection to be found in any of the States is in Madison, where for many years a painstaking and systematic work has been going on to collect materials for the history, not of Winconsin alone, but of the entire North-West. Among other things it contains 20,000 bound volumes of news- papers, and a collection of more than 300 oil por- traits of celebrities.; Under the title of My Devon Sketch-book," Mr. Eden Phillpotts will shortly publish a book on the county he loves. The announcement can sur- prise no o.a who remembers how lingeringly Mr. Phillpotts dwells on Devon scenery in his stories. The incident of the late Pope Leo rising from his deathbed to find his Horace has touched the imagination of Europe. In an exceedingly happy article in this week's Academy" the writer wonders what it was the Pope wished to find. Was there an old thumb mark to guide him in his search ? We know that during his last illness he dictated a Latin poem beginning I-Fatalis ruit hera, Leo jam tempus abire est," and this writer asks whether some memory arose in the Pope's failing brain of that phrase in Horace, written of one who had drunk his fill of life and mustdepart: Lusisti satis, edisti satis, atque bibisti; Tempus abire tibi est. Truly The picture will remain. Without are the Cardinals, whispering, intriguing, praying for the passing soul. Within, the dying Pope, primed with all credentials for the world to come, clambering out of bed at the last to find his Horace. Was there ever a more curious encounter, even in Rome, than this when two great Romans waved hands across the centuries, across religions —across the Styx!" Having studied carefully (says the Globe ") and without prejudice" the model of the eques- trian group on the Wellington Monument in St. Paul's, the President of the Royal Academy con- demns it in unmeasured terms. It is too large %for the elegant and refined struc- ture which supports it," the horse is badly, if not impossibly, constructed," the figure of the duke is sunk into the horse, and not seated on it, and the body of the hero has an almost hunch-backed appearance, due not only to the ill-arranged and ill-modelled cloak, but to the curtailed proportions of the torso." The foregoing an strong terms, and coming from a man of such moderation as Sir W. Poynter is known to be, cannot fail to attract attention. It is said that the Dean and Chapter will meet to decide on the question of the completion of the monument, but it is sincerely to be hoped that where one of our finest national memorials is concerned no hasty decision will be taken. For years Stevens' magnificent tribute to Wellington has remained an unfinished masterpiece, and now, after viewing the proposed addition, the president of the Royal Academy declares that the opinion of everyone who has given consideration to the sub- ject is that the only course to pursue is to leave the monument as Stevens left it.
I Mr. Knowsome: "Those are copies of the ships in which Columbus sailed from Spain to discover America." Mr. Hojack: "Go on! You'll never make me believe that any foreigner discovered our great country." "The boys are throwing stones at a poor ped- dler." Outrageous." That's what I think." "Whose boys are they?" "Yours." "Oh, well, boys will be boys. Let the children play." Sharpe: "Yes, Parker invented the safest air- ship ever heard of." Whealton: "But it re- fused to fly. You couldn't go up on it." Sharpe That's why I say it was the safest." A Boston composer set some of Walt Whit- man's poems to music. It doubtless sounds like a load of serapiron coming down a particularly rocky road on an especially quiet night.
fgJ" 11 lALL RIGHTS RESERVED.] THE MM HOUSE I BY THE POND. f BY o. J. HAMILTON. Alutltor of A Poiioued Life," Cut to the Heart" "A Flaslt of Yoitilt," &c. ct,,c. CHAPTER XIII. I BEWILDERMENT. ] THAT was a terrible night! Never-never can I forget the horror of it. It is stamped on my memory is letters of adamant. Everyone rushing hither and thither, trying all sorts of restoratives sending off for doc- tors, two of whom, Dr. Barker and Dr. Guy, came at once—and all of no use! They did everything they could to restore animation, but the Colonel never moved or spoke after lie was taken out of the water. It was api table to see the look of dispairing grief in llr. Montaubon's face as he came out of his brother's room, saying, They can do nothing I remembered all he had told 3me of the affection he and his brother had for one another, and I sorrowed for his I sorrow. Then came the constant going over of all that had passed at Caer Newydd during the day we had been away. The Colonel came down as usual to breakfast, and took a long ride beyond Penmaenmawr. Then lIe and Mrs. Montauhon had an early dinner, and he read the papers and wrote some letters till four, when they had tea -under the trees. She had been seen talking to him, and then he wandered away under 'the trees, smoking, till Ali went to call him in to supper, and could not find him any- where. Then came a hasty search, in the »fie!ds and in the woods, and just as we reached the gate, his lifeless body had been dragged out of the pond. The probability was that he had had one of his fainting attacks and had fallen into the water. It Was only four feet deep, but if he had fainted, lie would not have been able to get out. This was the explanation the doctors gave, I they had been treating him for weakness ol the heart, and they agreed that a fall into the water would have been certainly fatal. And Mrs. Montaubon—what of her? She seemed to be in a kind of stupor. She eat with her hands clasped, looking straight before her. Sometimes she broke into moans and lamentations, and once she looked up and said in a frightened whisper, Where is "Who?" "Sabina, of course. Why did she come prowling about my grounds that evening? Trying to come between my darling and mer She has no right to him, none We thought that her words were only the confused rambling of a woman who had received a terrible shock, but it turns out that Sabina was here on Saturday. Dr. Barker told us that he had been driving with her, and while he was paying a calh she had got out of the carriage. He knew nothing more till he saw her, with her eyes full of terror, running down the road. She Icept on repeating" Selina I-take her away. Oh! do take her away. She looks at me so!" No notice was taken of her. She often used Mrs. Montaubon's name like this, but afterwards her words were remembered. Some mystery hangs over the way by which Colonel Montaubon has come to his death, and Mrs. Montaubon will not, and Sabina can not, clear it up. The verdict which was returned at the coroner's inquest is Acci.- dental death." Everyone seems satisfied with it. One question, however, occurred to me perpetu- ally, why had the Colonel that manuscript in his hand ? Mrs. Montaubon always kept- it locked up in her own room. Had she given it to him, or had he taken it? I am quite convinced that the manuscript is the clue to the mystery—will it ever be cleared up? 1 was walking outside the dark house- now doubly dark—with the blinds all down, when Mr. Montaubon came out. His face was white and set, and oh how sad He took my hand in his, and said softly— "I hope, Miss Bailie, you are not going to ileave us just now." I can1 stay if you wish it." "I do wish it most fervently. It would be a great kindness if you would stay. Have you seen Mrs. Montaubon Sil]Ce--SilleC -? I knew what he was going to say, since jmy brother's death." "Yes," I answered, "I saw her once, she looks terribly broken. So wan and so aged, I was afraid to speak to her." With all her faults, she loved him." Oil! yes, there is no doubt of that. Even that manuscript was written with the object of making him proud of her." Poor thing! Poor Selina It is impos- sible not to pity her. I am sure she blames herself now for these dreadful fits of pas- sion." "She certainly is very passionate. How angry she was with me the day after I arrived; and \Vhen she broke that carved ivory box that was intended for her cousin Sabina was always her bete noire. She said something to me about Sabina just now, hull did not mind her—I had too much to think of." Mr. Montaubon went back to the house, and I followed one of the paths that led to the garden. There was a yellow jessamine there, and I wanted to get some for a funeral wreath. Bel1 happened to be in the garden gather- ing parsley. She looked up and said, You're going to make something for him I suppose ?" "Yes! he always liked yellow jessamine. It was his favourite flower." I "God bless him!" said Bell, wiping her -eyes with her apron. "He was the best and kindest master ever lived, as open-handed as the day. He wouldn't hurt the poorest body in the world. Everyone loved him—man and beast. There's little Tag's just breaking his heart after him. The poor, wee dog's been sitting at his door, whining, ever since he saw him carried in on Saturday night." You were not here all that evening- were you ? No, worse luck. I went over to the farm to buy a couple of chickens. I'd only just come back when the Colonel was missed, and Ali was away too. There was no one in the house but Peggy, the cook, and she's as ,deaf as a post." Did you see Miss Griffith anywhere? Yes; I met her not far from the gate, but she flew past me. Dr. Barker's carriage had just gone down the road, I thought she was running after it. I saw her get in, and then I came on home. It's my poor mistress," continued Bell, "that I'm thinking of. She gets no sleep day nor night. She keeps walking up and down, and she screams awfully as if something was hurting her. Do you hear her, Miss ? "No, I sleep at the back, you know; she is at the f "Oilt-" Ah I that pond," said Bell, slialcirsg her head. It ought to have been filled up long ago. 'Tvvas too dangerous to have bad such a place near, when the poor Colonel had them fainting fits. Any day he might have fallen in." After Bell went in, I summoned up 'Courage to visit the scene of the disaster. It had happened on Saturday, October 7th, and this was Monday, October 9th—a calm still afternoon, between four and five. The spot looked more haunted than it had ever done. The water was steel grey and perfectly motionless. On the further side floated a few lilies, with their flat, green leaves and white waxy blossoms. Over head, a number of rooks flew past to the shelter of some tall trees. A „ young crescent moon was just rising over Moel Siabod-it looked like a sweet child aiigel smiling at grief. Its tranquil beams shone on something in the grass. What was it? A piece of glass ?—no It was a very bright diamond, which sparkled in the moonshine, and sent out iridescent rays. Perhaps, someone had lost it on that fatal Saturday. I wrapped it in paper, and put it in my purse. There seemed to be no signs of struggling on the brink of the pond, though the grass was Irani pled down by footprints. These were easily accounted for as the stablemen, the gardener, and others had all been gathered round here during the search. Further on was a little knot of blackberry bushes. As I strolled along, my eyes fell on a piece of white paper about three inches square. I took it up, there was writing on it, and I recognised atonce Mrs. Montaubon's well-known straggling hand. There were the words "Lady Blanche," "Lady Hilda," llie "Prince," etc. It must be a scrap out, of the manuscript. She often wrote scraps, and fixed them in loosely. But what does this scrap prove? Nothing! I resolved to take it with me, however. I went back by the front of the house, and standing at the window, I saw the white, still face of Mrs. Montaubon. It was almost as white as that other face which I had seen that day lying in the open coffin, surrounded by autumn flowers. But while that face was placid and smiling, this one at the window looked awful, perfectly awfnl! I don't know what to think. CHAPTER XIV. I THE MISSING DIAMOND. I I HAD not seen Mrs. Walton since I parted from her after our excursion to Gwydir. She had been several times at Caer Newydd, but I had not happened to come across her. The morning after I found the diamond by the pond, she arrived with a large and very untidy wreath of chrysanthemums and bay leaves. "Yes, my dear," she exclaimed, as she laid it down on the table, I was up at six o'clock making this wreath. I have hardly any flowers of my own, so I begged these from all the cottages; the poorest old woman in the place wanted me to take some of hers. Poor, dear Sydney was sucbafavourite. Every child in the school has some story of his kindness, he was always giving them sweets or sixpences. Well! well it is a true saying, that- God takes the good, too good on earth to stay God leaves the bad, too bad to take away Mrs. Walton was, as she said herself, not much of a reader, or I might have reminded her of Wordsworth's lines in the" Excursion," Oh sir, the good die first; But those whose hearts are dry as summer dust, Burn to the socket." As it was, I held my peace, and she went on- I hear Mrs. Montaubon is terribly cut up. Have you seen her to-day?" No, not yet." "I hear she intends going to the funeral on Thursday." Yes, it will be a terrible ordeal for her, but Mr. Montaubon says she is determined to go." "And we all know what she is when she is determined on anything. It was strange that Sabina was wandering about this way on Saturday evening. She got out of the carriage when Dr. Barker was paying a call." "Yes, so I heard." "Dr. Barker told me that when he picked her up, her eyes were staring out of her head as if she had seen a ghost, and her shoes and the skirt of her dress were quite wet." "Have you been to see her since Saturday ? Oh, yes, I saw her yestei-dav. She is obliged to keep her bed. She was muttering to herself all the time, talking about a 'murderess,' and a 'traitress,' and putting her hands over her eyes as if to shut out something terrible." "Does she know that, the Colonel is dead ? "Well, she would hardly realise it if we told her. To her, lie is the young man she remembers ten years ago—the lover of her girlhood. One thing she always knows, and that is that Selina is her enemy, and that she robbed her of Sydney. "By the bye, had not the poor, dear fellow something in his hand when they dragged him out of the water ? What was it ? Don't you know ? "No." "It was Mrs. Montaubon's manuscript!" "Dear me! How odd! I wonder if she could have been telling him about it? She never can keep a secret long. I have often known her tell something to a friend of hers as the greatest secret in the world, and a few weeks afterwards this very friend would find that she had told the Sallie thing to a dozen other people, and that it was no secret at all. I wonder if Sydney could have done, or said, something to annoy her? But no! it is no use imagining things, we have no proof to go on—nothing whatever, and the doctors say that syncope of the heart might have come on at any time." The thought of the missing diamond flashed across me, and I said "Doesn't Mrs. Montaubon wear diamond rings ? "Of course she does, lots of them, and very valuable ones, too. Have you never noticed them ? "No; I can't say I have." "Sometimes she leaves them off, but generally she wears rings up to the middle joints of her fingers. Sabina, too, is extremely fond of jewellery. The cousins are alike in their love of ornaments. Sabina Mrs. Walton stopped abruptly. in the middle of her sentence, and I. who was just taking the diamond I had found out of nly purse, had to put.it back again, for Mrs. Montaubon was standing before us! She had stolen in so softly that we had not heard her. I had always been accus- tomed to see her in bright coJours-pink and yellow and blue, and now to see her all in black-itr the most intense black—gave me a sudden shock. A long crape gown trailed behind her in sweeping folds, and round her throat was a thick crape frill. These black garments made an extraordinary transform- ation in her. She looked absolutely livid, her eyes were sunk in her head and bad dark circles round them, and always that stealthy, furtive expression in her face, more marked now than it had ever been. Black frills came down on her hands, and almost covered her fingers, which were fidgeting with a withered, white chry- santhemum. She kept on picking off the petals one by one, and letting them drop on the carpet one by one. "You poor, poor thing!" cried Mrs. Walton, as she kissed her. How I do feel for you! I can guess how terrible it must be, for I have gone through the same trial myself." "Not—twt like mine gasped Mrs. Mon- taubon, faintly. "No, no, not so sudden, not so frightfully sudden. But anyway, it must have came sooner or later. The climate of India had told on poor Sydney's heart. He was in a bad state of health for some time, the doctors tell me." "Yes, yes," said Mrs. Montaubon, with a sigh of relief, "so they tell me. You were speaking of Sabina when I came in just now, I heard her name. What were you saying about her ? "Only that she has been laid up, in bed." She repeated Mrs. Montaubon, in a tone of contempt. "Why should she be laid up? Why did she come here that Saturday ? What business had she to come ? She is the bane of my life. She wanted to see him, that's what brought her, prowling round to torment me. Oh if she had only kept away." She took out a black-edged handkerchief, but her eyes were too hard and dry for tears. Don't distress yourself, my dear," said Mrs. Walton, patting her shoulder. "Keep still, and resign yourself to the will of God." "The will of God!" repeated Mrs. Mon- tallhon, with a dazed look. What has that to do with it? No, I can't keep still-I don't want to keep still. I go on walking up and down the room all the time. Why did such a thing happen to me ? No one ever bad such a grief. The light of my life has gone out. I have nothing to Jive for- nothing! If you agitate yourself like this you won't be able to go to the funeral on Thursday," said Mrs. Walton. "Reginald tells me you intend going. You really must take some rest." Rest!" she laughed a strange unearthly laugh. "What have I to do with rest? Of course, I will go on Thursday, nothing shall prevent me. I have the best right to go. I am the nearest to him—his wife! I have a better right to go even than Reginald. He is only a brother, I am Sydney's wife." "Oh! certainly," said Mrs. Walton, "no one has the least idea of preventing you." My adored husband she cried, walking up and down the room. I must see tbat no one steals him out of his coffin such things have been. I see you are still here," she cried, stopping before me. Yes Mr. Montaubon wished me to stay. Ali! but he is not the master here. However, you can stay." "Miss Bailie is very kind to stay," cried Mrs. Walton. "I don't know what we should have done without her she is so sympathetic and helpful." "Yes, I daresay. I wish she had never come. But nothing matters, now, nothing at all!" There was a piteousness in her voice that went to my heart. I am deeply grieved at your trouble, Mrs. Montaubon," I said, taking her hand. "Thank you. You needn't go till-after Thursday; and—and when you are one of the family, you must always take my part. Remember that." What did she mean ? I shall never be one of the family. I am going up to poor Sydney's room," said Mrs. Walton. "I brought tliiswreatl)- a last tribute of affection from his old friend." "It is very badly made," said Mrs. Mon- taubon, examining it, "and there are such crowds of wreaths, that there will hardly be room for it. I sent fora wreath from Covent Garden, all stephanotis and arum lilies but I am his wife She seemed to be fond of repeating this over and over again, as if to impress the fact on every one. As she left the room, the black frill of her sleeve fell back from her left hand, and I saw on the little finger that there was a remark- ably brilliant diamond ring, and that one of the stones seemed to be missing! When I was alone, I took out the diamond I had found by the pond and looked at it again. It sent out scintillating rays that showed it was of the purest lustre. It seemed to be the exact match of those that were in Mrs. Montauhon's hoop-ring. Overhead, I heard footsteps. People were in the chamber of death. Voices exclaimed in various keys- "Poor, poor Mrs. Monta/ubon, how she is to be pitied How devotedly fond she was of her husband! What a blow she has had I" And still I sat, looking at the diamond— and-and wondering I (To be continued.)
THE CHILD AND THE GREAT FINANCIER. Mr. Peter A. B. Widener, the Philadelphia financier, is so immersed in business that ha does not often find time to wander over the grounds of his magnificent country place, Lyn- wood Hall, which is dpcidedly the show place of Pennsylvania. One day, however, Mr. Widener had an hour of idleness, and strolled through his huge stables. In a corner he came upon a little boy (the head coachman's son) at play with a fox-terrier. The financier and the child admired the terrier for a while together, and then, for some reason, Mr. Widener said: "Do you know who I am?" 'Yes, sir," said the boy, "of course I do." "Well, who am I?" Why, you're the man that rides in my father's carriages."
MR. ¥ERKES' PLANS. 'I In the course of a talk with a St. James's Gazette" representative, the other day, Mr. Yerkes said the work connected with the elec- trification of the Underground was proceeding satisfactorily. The power-station at Chelsea was being pushed forward as rapidly as possible, and he fully expected that it would be ready within a year. Wires were at present being laid to carry the current from the power station to the "District" system. After the power-station was completed, the remainder of the work of electrification, Mr. Yerkes said, would occupy only a few months. His "tube" schemes, lie said, were also being rapidly advanced, and within two years the facilities for travelling be- tween various districts of London would be greatly increased. Other two additional sta tions have been arranged for—one between Hampstead and Golders Green on the Charing Cross and Hampstead "tube," and the other at Westminster Bridge-road between the Elephant and Castle and Waterloo stations on the Baker- street and Waterloo railway. When all the "tubes" which Mr. Yerkes and his group have been authorised to build have been completed London will have about thirty-five more stations than it has at the present time. And Mr. Yerkes has several other "tube" schemes in view. Whether they are presented in November to be ready for next session depends to a large extent upon the Royal Commission on London traffic. It is still uncertain when the report cf the Commission will be ready, and until that report has been issued promoters of locomotion schemes in general "will hold their hand." Amongst the schemes Mr. Yerkes has in mind is one for a "tube" from the Mansion House westwards under Queen Victoria-street and the Strand, to join the other "tubes" now in course of construction, probably at Charing Cross.
MIGHT HAVE BEENS. I When we consider what some great men might have been, we shudder to think what would have been lost had Uiey succeeded in their early avocation. Civil Law would not have ap- preciated Handel as highly as lovers of music do and always will (writes Mr. Harry Furniss in the "Windsor Magazine"). Rousseau, who wrote "Confessions" and "Emile," would surely have been lost to the world as a cobbler. Hume's "History of Commerce," written in the ledgers of an office, would not have been equal to his "History of England." Smeaton, the great engineer, might never, as an attorney, have risen to the bench. And although our great landscape painter, Turner, might have eventually become the champion barber, his ^.lents would certainly have been thrown away shaving the stubbly chins of drunken sailors down the Thames. It is a strange reflection that this great painter, the first great leader of English water-colour, the painter of "Adonis Departing for the Chase," "Ulysses Deriding Polyphemus," "The Rigi at Sunrise," "The Fighting Temeraire," and other masterpieces in oil, of which the nation is justly proud, should have remained, in his tastes, uninflu- enced by his art.
I THREE MEN KILLED. A number of men in the Fairfield Shipyard, Govan, were engaged in placing a propeller shaft weighing about 20 tons into position in a new vessel on Monday when the huge piece of machinery slipped and fell upon three men, who were instantly killed. The shaft had to be raised by powerful hydraulic lifts before the mangled bodies could be extricated. The names of the men were—James Scott, fitter Robert Wight, engineer; and George Dawson, labourer.