Mrs. HARRINGTON'S SECRET. BY HENRY FRITH. AUTHOR OF T he Mystery of Moor Farm" The Skeleton Cupboard;" The Black Shaft" The Cruise of the Wasp;" The Huntiny of the Hydra;" "The Lost Trader;" II Search for the Talisman;" The Opal Mountain;" The Red Spectre;" The Lock-Keeper's Secret;" g-c., g-e. [ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.] CHAPTER XIII. A WHISPER OP GUILT. NEXT morning Mrs. Harrington proceeded betimes to her husband's room and found him better. He had rallied since the day before, and ap- peared extremely anxious for the solicitor's arrival. As soon as possible, Mrs. Harrington per- suaded him to sign the cheque, which she declared she urgently required, but which took some time to obtain—for Mr. Harrington was peculiar in the matter of cheques, and had a bank signature quite impossible to imitate. This elaborate proceed- ing occupied some few minutes. There was the filling up of the cheque and the counter-foil, the crossing of the document, and finally the wonderful compilation which the banker's clerks knew represented AARON HAIUUKGSTON, but which no ordinary or uninformed mortal would have suspected to be anything but the straight "track" after a race of spiders had come f)ff upon the paper. Armed with this valuable signature, which she scarcely glanced at, Mrs. Harrington continued to converse pleasantly with her husband who com- plained of having been much disturbed during the night by an incursion of cockroaches or mice, which kept rustling and running about the fireplace. The nurse, being absent, was not questioned concerning these fancies, but the very devoted wife procured a strong poison in a phial and painted the small aper- ture, and some pieces of bread, with the mixture, using the first object that came to hand for the purpose. This—as it proved to be-very important attention paid to her husband, she left the invalid for a while to attend to her household duties, and locked up the cheque. Her mind was fully made up. Had she striven all these years-she asked herself as she closed her jewel-case, and gazed at her still handsome face in the mirror on her toilette-table-ha,d she striven all these years, seared her heart, relinquished a true love for wealth, declined an affectionate second marriage in favour of Aaron Harrington and his money-bags, to see their principal contents dissolve before her eyes? No, a thousand times no! Her children should be rich, and then she would be happy. But her husband ? Her husband-he would die. She could see he was ill, and not likely to recover. He would die; his will would be produced. Yes, but her later will would also be produced, reversing the legacy to that girl," and leaving her own children as rich as John Harriugton. Then he should marrylice, who really admired him, and all would be well. A splendid casil > in the air, indeed Mr. Faithfull and the doctor in attendance upon Aaron Harrington arrived together, and the latter, in virtue of his office, proceeded to the sick man's room first. He found the patient seated as usual at his writing-table, nibbling his pen, and ap- Jjarently not deriving much nourishment from it—at east, the doctor seemed to think so, for he gazed curiously at the patient's eyes, and asked him some searching questions. Aaron Harrington answered pettishly to such un- usual queries, and the nurse also seemed surprised and shocked. The doctor questioned her about her attendance, and after recommending what the nurse thought an extraordinary medicine, the medical man, not being able to see Mrs. Harrington, who was out, stated his intention to call again in the evening. You do not think he is in any immediate danger, do you," inquired the solicitor. There are some curious symptoms," replied the doctor, on which I will not express a definite opinion until I have seen him again. There is something almost suspicious of-. Well, good morning!" Suspicious!" muttered the solicitor, when his friend bad quitted the room. We shall soon see. Has Mrs. Harrington returned yet ?" lie asked of the servant, who was waiting to conduct him to the sick man's room. No, sir; she will be back almost immediately, I expect. Will you wait, sir?" No; I will go up at once, please. My time is limited.' All the better," he thought, as he followed the servant. She did not expect me so early." Mr. Faithfull, carrying a bag, was then ushered into Aaron Harrington's room, and was at once struck with the sudden change which the last few days had wrought. The eyes were glassy, and yet shone with a curious light. The features were more pinched, and traces of suffering were plainly visible. An un- easiness in the manner and tone of the sick man struck Mr. Faithfull particularly a suspicious manner had taken possession of his client. All these things impressed the lawyer. There is something curious, he thought, but he only said: "Good morning, Mr. Harrington, How do Jor. feel to-day ? Up to business?" Of course," replied the old man. Never more inclined for it. I am quite well—eh, Faithfull ?" What does the doctor say ? You speak clearly enough, but you look tired. Haven t you slept well ?" "No; for the last two nights I have been much disturbed by rats and mice and blackbeetles. But Mrs. Harrington will destroy them, she says. Now let us to business. Mr. Faithfull kept his eyes fixed upon his client as he unfastened the papers which he had withdrawn from the leather bag, and now submitted for the old man's signature. It's all right, is it, Faithfull ?" Yes the legacies are all as you wished. "Is Lilian's money—the twenty thousand pounds -settled on herself ?" Yes, absolutely," replied the solicitor. Right! And Alice and Donald, are they left as directed ?" persisted the old man. Shall I read the clause? We need not go through all the document." No; you are an honest man-Faithfull by name and faithful by nature. Mrs. Harrington's settle- ment is quite clear, I suppose ? John will be my heir, but only on one condition-he must marry Lilian." You didn't tell me that before," said Faithfull. It is not in the provisions of the will." Well, add it. He will have to allow Mrs. Har- rington one thousand pounds a year, and pay Alice and Donald their legacies as well. But if he does not marry Lilian he will forfeit the estate, which I bought with her money, and have to content himself with two thousand a year, unless she absolutely de- clines to marry him, in which case, after three years, he will succeed to the whole." I have divided the residue, in the event of his death before your own, between Mrs. Harrington and Miss Manville, as you said." "Yes—yes! Now get the clause in and bring it to me to-morrow." b <■ *nsei"t it now," said the lawyer, and he entered the necessary words. Then, sending for the attested" 18 C was initialed, signed, and These formalities had scarcely been concluded, and the important document deposited in the black bag, Ug unceremoniously entered the Well," she said; "so vou hn™ „ i •< your arrangements without my Jss £ 6 c.omPjeted sorrv I was not at home to receive you°Mr Faith" full." Do not mention it, madam," said the lawyer as politely as possible. We have quite finished our business now. The will is signed." e our I suppose I may know the contents ?" asked Mrs Harrington, as carelessly as she could. s. j Presently, my dear," said the old man, "pre- sently. There is nothing you need not know." Mr. Harrington has made ample provision for all, as you will find. Good-day, madam." You will surely stop to luncheon ?" she said. You can catch the three o'clock train afterwards." Thank you, I must return at once." He seized his black bag as he spoke. I must be HI .London by two o'clock. Good-day." Pause, pause, Mr. Faithfull, if you have any pre- sentiment. Did nothing just, then whisper to you to .;add to vour remark, "all being well "? Dad no feel- ing of uncertainty -clog your steps as you and your clerk, Lionel Eliott, proceeded to the station ? You would not hurry, you did not hurry, and, notwith- standing your appointment, you felt inclined to turn back. Why did not you accept the invitation,? Why, in fear of some voice telling you to pause, did you not stay ? You will never tell us why. You proceeded, as we know, with your most unwilling clerk, who carried the bag. The train waited for you a moment. You entered a carriage near the engine the train started. You and your companion dozed in the compartment. and you never woke again. The engine left the metals and dashed down the embankment, carrying with it three coaches; and the kind-hearted solicitor and his clerk lay, one fearfully mangled, the clerk insensible, at the foot of the slope, with others killed and wounded. Help was at hand. Many men were glad to assist, and some were base enough to attempt to plundei and to steal. One of these ghouls, in assisting, came upon a small leather bag full of papers. In the bag also wns a cheque-book, and some notes in a pocket-book. An excellent 'find' this for a poor man," thought the individual. This will be advertised, and then I'll find it!" So he hid the bag in the furze and rendered some assistance, keeping a good look-out for himself. When the line had been partially cleared, the individual took up his plunder as darkness set in, and made li i- way to Walton-on-Thames, where near the bridge he found a lodging. Meanwhile, Donald Mackenzie, in pursuance of instructions, had been engrossing a new document, and waiting anxiously for Mr. Faithfull's return. Urged to quit the office, young Mackenzie pleaded orders and work, for no intelligence concerning the accident, or at any rate any details, had reached Soho at five o'clock. So Donald worked, idled, and waited. At length, thinking something was wrong, he hurried to the train, which was greatly delayed in consequence of the accident, and it was quite mid- night when he reached home. Here a new and terrible surprise awaited him, and the news made his blood run cold. Aaron Harrington had had words with his wife, the servant said, and when in the evening the nurse went into the room to settle him for the night she found him seated at his table, the feather of the quill pen in his mouth-dead. The doctor, hastily summoned, looked very grave, and when his partner came in they both shook their heads, and formed their lips into the one word Poison 1" ———— I CHAPTER XIV. I I AT,ICE MACKENZIE SEES SOMETHING. 1 oisour! it, had an ugly sound, that word, when muttered between the doctors in the sick man's room; and even the household, to whom no such suspicions had been hinted, had some uneasy feelings with regard to the master's" death. Mrs. Harrington herself was deeply affected. The end had come so suddenly that it had quite upset all her self-control, and she wept bitterly. Had her conscience pricked her so deeply in consequence of her behaviour to her dead husband, or was she more guilty still ? No one could ascertain, for no one, except her son, was admitted to her room—not even Alice, who more than once attempted to solace her mother, and was immediately repulsed. When Donald reached Ivy Lodge he at once went up to his mother's room in response to her request. He found her seated by the dressing-table in tears, and in demi-toilette—she had not changed her dinner dress. Mother," said the young man, gravely, this is awful. When and how did it happen ?" Your father's—Mr. Harrington's—death do you mean? Not long after dinner—about nine o'clock. Oh, Donald after all we have 1 mean, how dreadful it all is. You have the document quite safe, I suppose?" Yes; but it was not signed, was it ?" I wanted to manage that this afternoon. Tht other will was carried away by Mr. Faithfull ?" "Poor Faithful was in that train, and I have heard he is killed or mortally hurt? Is that true ?" I am afraid it is. But, Donald, yon will not be- tray me ?" Betray you, mother How do you mean—about our little agreement ? Certainly not. It cannot matter now, can it ? The document is no use, I sup- pose, is it ?" Never mind now, dear. This is no time to discuss such matters," replied his mother, who had been turning all the circumstances over in her mind for hours. "That is all over now. We must face the future as we can." Donald kissed his mother, and said I will see about things for you to-morrow. The doctors are coming here in the morning." What for ?" inquired Mrs. Harrington, suddenly rousing herself. To pass a certificate. They must make an exami- nation. Good-night, mother." Good-nigbt, dearest. Come to me as early as you can. Good-night." Donald Mackenzie shut the door, and went to his own room. His sister came out from her chamber to meet him. "What, not in bed, Alice It is very late." "How could I sleep after all these terrible things have happened ? Donald, don't you think we ought to send for Jack ?" No! certainly not, particularly after the manner in which be treated vou. You must be very fond of him indeed!" Treated me exclaimed Alice, not noticing the sneer which accompanied her brother's words. "What do you mean? He always treated me as a gentleman should. I do not understand you. Donald." Well, I know all about it, as it happens, and if that fellow comes here I'll give him my opinion, and tell him to go where he is wanted." You forgot that he is the heir to the property. Indeed, I may say the owner now," replied Alice, and will perhaps turn us all out." Is he retorted Donald. We shall see some- thing about that too when the time comes. Good- night go to sleep, and forget John, I advise you." Alice deigned no reply to this fraternal advice. She contented herself with a pretty little toss of her head, and disappeared into her room again, wonder- ing what Donald meant, and who could have so misrepresented John Harrington. She undressed slowly, being too much excited to sleep, and wishing to see her mother, late as it was. She sat down before her glass and brushed out her long, fair hair, which, with her pretty face and blue eyes, made her appear almost fairy-like. As she brushed, she fancied sho heard a footstep in the passage. She ceased, and listened. Yes, she was certain somebody was very cautiously moving along the corridor--a light, careful step, not pausing long on the floor; but still, apparently, the person, whoever it was, was endeavouring to move without noise. Alice was not afraid of thieves, and at once con- cluded that one of the servants was wandering about, so she quickly put her candle aside, and, gently opening the door, looked out. A tall figure, which she immediately recognised as her mother, was at the end of the passage carrying a lamp, and on the point of entering the room wherein the dead man lay. Mrs. Harrington did not per- ceive her daughter, and Alice made no sound, but watched intently. The clock struck one as the figure entered the chamber of death. Alice Mackenzie wondered. She, in common with all the household, was quite aware that Mrs. Har- rington had ruled her husband rigidly, and, when off her guard, treated him with scant ceremony. re Her mother had never made much parade of affection towards anyone except Donald, and this tribute to the dead man—this apparently loving desire to see him alone in the dead of night, to pray, perhaps, by his bedside-gave Alice a shock. She forgave her mother the harshness she had displayed, and her eyes filled with tears. Suddenly the impulse to become reconciled to her mother rushed into the girl's mind. Since the day before she and Mrs. Harrington had not been oil good terms, as her mother had deemed her wanting in her duty towards her. She would become recon- ciled to her mother at the death-bed of the kind old man who had passed away. So, attired in slippers and dressing-wrapper, Alice Mackenzie tripped lightly along the corridor. The door of the chamber was ajar, and the girl was about to open it, when through the chink between the hinges and the frame Alice perceived her mother standing at the writing-table—what was she about tc do A piece of black paper was in her hand, a deed or j document was on the table. A slip of paper which looked like a cheque was also between Mrs. Harrington's fingers, and she was comparing the ¡ documents. For a few moments she stood thus, and then, seating herself, took up the pen again, and held it up to her face as she leaned back in a thoughtful attitude. In the adjoining chamber which opened into the writing-room lay all that remained of Aaron Harrington, and yet his wife was seated within a few feet of him bent on business already! Alice felt ashamed thus to play the spy, but having come with such different feelings, and attributed them also to her mother, she was uncertain what to do, and she feared to stir just then, as she might be heard retreating. What was her mother about ? Suddenly Mrs. Harrington started up. Her face and manner betokened the utmost alarm. The pen in her hand was violently thrown down her gaze rested upon the mantel-shelf, and then searched everywhere within the lamp-light. Frightened at this expression of terror and horror, Alice remained like a statue. Her mother recovered herself, and, placing the pen on the table with the others, put the large document in a drawer and locked it up. Then withhesitat.ing step she crossed the room, and paused at the door of the inner chamber. She turned the handle, and, with the lamp held &bove her head, gently, half timidly, passed into the room tenanted only by the dead, and disappeared. What was she seeking? Alice Mackenzie stepped forward, and at length breathed more freely. She returned to her bed- room for her candle, with the intention to follow her mother and be reconciled to her, comfort her, if need be, for Alice was at heart a good and affectionate girl. But just as she reached her room a fearful shriek emanated from the room where her mother was, and, ere she could grasp the candle and hurry out, the silence was again fearfully broken by a second scream from the chamber of death. I CHAPTER XV. I I MR. JONAS KEDGE HEARS SOMETHING. I MR. JONAS KEDGE was a person who gained his living in the" marine-store" line-or, rather, had he been able to appreciate the nice distinctions of the English language., the Riparian Store "was the proper term. The waifs and strays of still-life upon the Thames banks were his more immediate aim. To call him a tradesman would be insulting our worthy shop- keepers. To call him a tramp were equally deroga- tory to his own importance. There ie a medium in all things. Mr. Kedge was a medium, a receiver, occasionally a thief, and in either capacity he was as bad as in the other. Jonas Kedge was short of stature, hairy as to his appearance, from the cap, down his face, to his rabbit-skin waistcoat. His tie was red, his face was dark, his eyes piercing. He had thin, bony hands, with developments under the little fingers, which, with certain other signs, would have ensured his making his fortune as a defaulting cashier had he been brought up to the vocation of banker. He could read and write, was quick at calculations, bold, yet not disrespectful, delighting in Nature and all her works, but with very confused ideas as to theology, and the terms meum and tuum. The latter he re- garded as convertible. When Jonas Kedge seized the bag, which Mr. Faithfull's clerk had been holding at the time the accident occurred, he had formed but a misty idsaof its contents. The owners were apparently dead— one of the pair was, at any rate-and no one noticed the abstraction of the article. Hidden in the bushes, Jonas considered what he would do. The papers, he perceived, were legal documents, which to his poor, untutored understanding appeared somewhat confused, and couched in much needless redundancy of language. We must remember Jonas was almost self-educated, for in his days the School Board had not commenced to teach aspiring youth for twopence a week. "Money [' d's' he called it], no doubt; with this here, and my savin's, and a little more added, my departure for the Anti-poddies is a fixed fact. Gold is lying about there, I'm told, to be picked up by any- body. Plenty and tig spare. Let me see, Will'— Testament' (that's a Bible I thought), all this rubbish of words; 'aforesaid, and hereinbefore men- tioned' Donald Mackenzie'—ah Donald Mac- kenzie, of Ivy Lodge. Manville'—who's she ? Ho, ho! there's money in this. 'My nephew, John Edward Harrington'—I've seen him afore now- my dear wife Sarah and her children, Alice' (hum !) and Donald Mackenzie.' Blest if it ain't old Aaron's last will and testament!' Oh, Moses! here's a find! But I don't see the testament any- where. Lucky I came across the fields instead of keepin' by the river. I might ha' missed this. Bee-utifui! Nothin' less than a hundred quid' will suit me on this. Jonas, my boy, your fortune's made." Then Mr. Kedge struck into the road again, and pursued his solitary way in the closing evening, the papers and money carefully concealed in his ample pockets, which seemed capable of containing any- thing, from a ferret to a hare, or from a silk hand- kerchief to a silver teapot. Donald Mackenzie. I know him, the varmint; tried to have me took for fishin' his father's pond, he did! As if nature didn't make fish to be caught and ute Ah, never mind I'll investigate this here will, and get the reward. Then, Jonas, I think you'll give the old land leg-bail. There's too many interfer- ences with the liberty of the subject in this blessed old country. Give me freedom and the Anti- poddies ?" Soliloquising thus half aloud, Mr. Kedge reached his usual resting-place. This was a small hut or cottage standing a little back from the road which leads over Walton-bridge—it was the old bridge then —from Weybridge and Sunburv, &c. The cottage has long since been removed, and the new bridge replaces the older structure, which was partly swept away. I'll just have a look round," said Jonas aloud (he had acquired the habit of talking to himself), and then I'll call at the Anglers;' maybe there will be something going on; and to-morrow I'll try and see Mr. Donald Mackenzie and make a bargain. It might be worth his while to buy my property." So saying, Mr. Kedge entered his cabin and care- fullv shut the door behind him. The interior of the'little cottage harmonised with the character and appearance of its owner. Careless- ness, not uncleanliness, was apparent in the arrange- ments. The furniture was scanty. A gun, some rods, nets, and other fishing-tackle, indicated the occupant's fondness for sport. A small terrier lay blinking on the floor. He wagged his tail when his master came in, but evinced no other mark of approval or welcome. A. few cupboards, a book-shelf half filled with torn volumes, some pipes and candles on the mantel-piece, with a general flavour of smoke and mustiness, were apparent at once. In an inner room, Jonas kept his important papers, money, and private documents. A little bed stood in one corner. In a shed outside was a miscel- laneous collection of goods, which constituted the dealer's stock-in-trade. Enough has been said to indicate the tastes and pursuits of Jonas Kedge with- out going into further description of him or his im- mediate surroundings. When that worthy had made sure that. all was safe, and had hidden his newly "found" property in a hole in the floor-only to be discovered by removing a knot in the plank, and pulling up a false board-lie left the dog in charge, and sauntered down in the gathering gloom to the Anglers public-house. Here a number of riverside characters had assembled: men who worked in the barges-men who let boats occasionally, or assisted their occupants with the remains of pic-nics, and whose wives, as gipsies, told fortunes according to the information they re- ceived. By these Kedge was welcomed, and the usual questions as to Any news, mate ?" were put. "Hear there's been a accident on the railway," remarked Jonas, carelessly. "Some pore fellows has bin killed, I'm told." True enough," replied another. I see it." "Did ye?" inquired Jonas, quickly, for he was interested in how far the other's observation had led him. "Was it bad?" Ay, four killed dead, and a lot injured. Bless them railways! they're always murdering someone, in or out." "None of the people at the Lodge, I suppose?" inquired the landlord; Harringtons ? No. They had a visitor to- day-lawyer. I drove him over. They sent him back, and done me out of the job. Old man's very bad." Ay, ay!" said Jonas, interrogatively. Dyin' is he?" "Don't know-very bad, I hear-think there's something queer myself." Queer—how queer ? Foul play, do ye mean ?" Depends on what ye calls fowl's play," retorted the man, with a grin. It ain't chicken-hazard, is it?" Dry up; none of that," laughed the other. But it is curious, now you mention it-the doctor was there to-day, and Ben told my son he looked precious solemn when he come out." He's made his will, I s'pose," said another, and the lady will have the property ?" Oh, yes, he's made a will," began Kedge, and then suddenly checked himself. "How do you know that?" inquired the other speaker. Why, nuyfool could tell that, when a lawyer has been there all the mornin' and the old man dyin'. Of course he's made his will, and Mr. John is hif heir. no dowbt." The missus will get it, depend on it. I'll lay five shillings to a penny the old woman will take the tricks!" Maybe so. She's pretty 'cute, is Mrs. H. She's too polite for me-too oily-like—clings to your palate too much, she does. We shall hear more to-morrow, daresay." So Mr. Harrington is 'queer, muttered Jonas, as he walked home at ten o'clock. I keep my eyes around. Perhaps Mr. John would be my best card to play after all. But I'll have a deal with young Mackenzie first, anyhow." n As he gained the main road a horseman passed him at full speed. Jonas turned to look at him. Livery, buff! Looks like the groom up at the Lodge. Ha! old Aaron is dying, perhaps, after all. I'll just stroll up and find out." Curiosity was at once Mr. Kedge's weakness and his strong point. Never lose nothing for want of obser- vation," was his general motto, and be acted upon that principle. So he continued his way up to the Lodge. The numerous lights which flitted to and fro, the bustle that was evident within, confirmed Mr. Kedge in his surmise that old Aaron was goin' down the hill without the break on." "May as well take an'observation, muttered Jonas. Somethin' may fall my way after all." He crept up near the house under the shade of the evergreens and waited. Nothing rewarded his "observation," and after a while he was about to turn away when he heard a window open cautiously. He looked up—a hand and arm were visible. Something fell on the earth through the leaves, and then the window was again cautiously closed. I heard somethm' fall," said Jonas to himself. I'll just have a look to-morrow. Business is busi- ness." With this unquestionably wise remark the marine- store dealer made his way cautiously down the avenue, and encountered the doctor's carriage at the entrance gate. Last will and testament," thought the wanderer. Ah, much good all his money will do him where he's a-goin' to! I suspect he'd change places with me now if his money would buy the swop. At least, that's the result of my observation." (To be continued.)
A CRIME OF FOURTEEN YEARS I AGO. TANGLED STORY. to.- I Some fourteen years ago young woman of twenty-five, named Marianna, Marine, mysteriously disappeared from Ottati, near Seierno. Three months later Marianna's brother, Luigi, alleged that his sister bad been assassinated in the house of a married couple called De Luca, and the corpse was discovered there in a. cellar with a dagger wound! in the throat. The Do Lucia eo-uple were arrested. During I the trial the husband died. The wife in her evidence accused Luigi of having been an accomplice in the crime. By a strange coincidence, twelve years later Luigi Marmo was arrested on the day of his sister's murder for killing a young child. The old! allegation of murder was revived against him, and he was also accused cf having falsely denounced the woman De Luca.. The trial at length came on, and the woman De Luca swore that Luigi was a party to his •sister's, death, and had denounced the De Lucas rather than pay them the promised price of blood. Forty-two witnesses, one after another, supported the woman's story, and the. Public Prosecutor demanded, from- the jury a. severe verdict of condemnation. But not so. The jury agreed, almost unanimously that -De, Luca'6 narrative was inspired by motives of vengeance, and Luigi Marmo was acquitted.
EXCITING RESCUE AT FOLKE- STONE. An exciting rescue was witnessed by hundreds of trippers at Folkestone. A little girl named Phillis Kelly, of London, fell over the. slipway into the harbour where there was fourteen feet of water. The dhild was taken by the tide under the slipway, and, without hesitation, a fisher- man named Charles Taylor dived into the water to the child's assistance. He reached the child and held her, but bl)h had to be pulled from under the slipway. The bystanders made a subscription for the plucky fisherman.
THE NEW VOLUNTEER ORDER. I REFUSAL TO UNDERGO EXAMINATION. I The deep resentment felt by volunteers to- wards the order of the Secretary for War, Mr. Arnold-Forster, requiring medical examination found expression in a somewhat dramatic form at the camp of iihe 2nd London Rifles a-t Sway, in Hampshire, which broke up on Saturday. Three sergeants, one corporal, and seven pri- vates refused to undergo the examination. The result was that the senior sergeant was reduced to the ranks and dismissed the corps, and the two sergeants were reduced to the ranks. One of them asked to be dismissed, but his request was refused. The seven privates were officially informed that they would not be paid for their second week's training.
GALE ON THE SOUTH COAST. I HEAVY SEAS. I Throughout Saturday night and Sunday a strong south-westerly wind blew with the force of a gale in the English Channel, and a very unusual sight for the month of August was that of ships running up Channel before the gale with nearly bare poles. The cross-Channel passages between Ostend, Calais, and Boulogne were all very rough, and the boats were more or less delayed, the condi- tions of the decks showing that they had shipped a good deal of sea. The Ostend boat made a very rough passage across on Saturday night, many of the passengers being prostrate. At Dover a lady had to be carried ashox-e. The Koh-i-noor from Tilbury, with a large number of passengers, arrived at Dover an hour late on Sunday afternoon. Between Ramegate and Dover she encountered heavy seas, which frequently broke over her. She was watched with a good deal of excitement from the shore, and spectators admired the clever way in which she was handled by Captain Fishenden.
MR. ROOSEVELT'S DAUGHTER. I AN OFFER OF MARRIAGE. I The climax of the festivities in Manilla in honour of Mr. Taft, the Secretary of War, and Miss Alice Roosevelt, daughter of the Presi- dent, came on Monday, when the Sultan of Zula, formally asked Miss Roosevelt to become his eighth Sultana. She thanked him, and agreed to consider the matter. A year ago the Sultan proposed to another American girl, who has also delayed giving an answer, but the Sultan, with Royal constancy, has continued sending her presents of strings of valuable oearls.
The Bishop of Manchester has concluded his great seaside mission at Blackpool, and with his fellow-missioners took an affectionate leave of the visitors from the pulpit on the sands. His lordship has addressed forty meetings, and made the personal acquaintance of over 1,000 working people.
BAS UTOa OJN iHE ARPATH. CHIEF'S DEATH CAUSES QUARREL. 50,000 BRAVES ASSEMBLING. Lerothodi, the paramount chief of the Basutos, itS dead, and the tribesmen are gather- ing by the thousand at Maseru for hie funeral. A violent dispute is in progress among the chiefs concerning the successor to Lerothodi. Succession to the paramountcy has hitherto gone by heredity, but Letsie, the late chief's eldest son is cordially detested because of his wild temper and violent habits, and several of the chiefs declare- that they will not recognise him. Other sons of Lerothodi have been put up as rival candidates, and the nation is spljt up into antagonistic factions. The outlook is decidedly threatening. There are some 50,000 fighting men in the country, and if they break into tribal wars about the suc- cession, it is difficult to see where the matter will end. There are about 200 Europeans at Maseru, all Government officials. Carried out with the royal obseauies of the Basutos, the burial of the dead chief will be a great and curious sight. It will take place at Thaba Bosigo, where Lerothodi held his court. According to custom, the chief will be buried in a crouching position, and close by -e a hut will be erected, containing a newly-killed bullock, on which the spirit of the dead warrior will feed. After a, time the bullock will be con- sumed by the tribes, with great solemnity.
THE CORNFIELD TRAGEDY. -11 PRISONER'S CONFESSION. Remarkable details were given in the Hull Police-court on Monday, when a seaman named Peter Williams was charged, on his own confession, with the murder of Ellen Borrill, a married woman living apart from her husband. On Sunday afternoon Williams gave himself up to the East Riding Police, and said that he had killed a woman at Danthorpe. Accompanied by a policeman, he led the oruecr to a cornfield, where the body of the woman was found lying on a stook of wheat, with a number of sheaves piled over it. Her throat was cut in three places, and a blood-stained knife and razor were found in the field near the body. Williams said that the woman asked him to put her" out of the way." He refused, and she then snatched the razor out of his hand, ran a few yards, and cut her throat. Williams alleged that he followed her, and" finished her off." The woman, he said, had often expressed a wish that she was dead, and had been charged with attempted suicide at Hull. Prisoner was identified by the deceased's husband as a man with whom she had contracted a liaison. Williams was remanded for a week.
CYCLISTS ATTACKED IN KENT. AN ASSAILANT SHOT. A serious affray between a motor-cyclist and some men took place on the main road between Chatham and Maidstone on Sunday night. Mr. H. Payne, of the Three Tuns, Maidstone, was motoring towards Chatham when, entering a very dark strip of road, some haif-dozen persons pulled his machine up and crowded round him, using violent language. The cyclist produced a revolver and threatened his assailants with it. Instead of being frightened, however, they declared that the weapon was empty, and one ot them hit Mr. Payne a couple of severe blows across the head. He again threatened them. and fired his revolver into the air, but this did not deter the men, and one again pushed to the attack. Levelling the weapon the now desperate cyclist fired point blank, the bullet passing through his assailant's hand. The man's confederates closed with the motorist, and a struggle ensued, which was only stopped by Mr. Payne Humanely suggest- ing that their injured companion, who was by this time lying by the side ef the road, required help. The motorist very kindly proceeded to Maidstone and procured a cab to convey the wounded man to the hospital. Only last week a young military cyclist was dragged off his machine in the same road. After his pockets had been emptied of money he was allowed to proceed to Maidstone.
RUSSIAN BABIES IN ENGLAND. TOUCHING INCIDENT. Gravesend, where the bodies of the two little dead Doukhcbor babies were landed on Satur- day, wa.s the scene on Monday of a touching exhibition of devotion on the, part of the fathers of the tiny emigrants who succumbed on the voyage from Libau to London. The two little dead Russian infants were solemnly borne on Saturday to the mortuary in the old-fashioned High-street of the river- side town, and there the necessary post-mortem examination was made. The fathers-Ivan Sbitnew and Andrew .Aluedieliski-were taken to the Sailors' Home, land there, unable to exchange a word with any one, they stayed until Monday. Now and then they made their way to the mortuary, where they gazed sorrowfully on the still forms of their little ones, lying side by side in one large shell. When Monday came the two went to the mortuary again, and by signs they made a police officer understand that they wished to attire the baby bodies for burial. In particular they suggested that they wanted something- ribbon-like to tie around the waists of the little ones. So through the streets of Gravesend the two wandered together, and, they visited shop after shop in search of vestments for the dead. At last they found what they wished—two baby nightgowns and a yard or two of baby-ribbon of silky texture with a pretty pattern of tiny pink flowers. With their little bundles tilie two Doukhobors went to the, mortuary once more, and there. with the corpse of a dead seaman lying by, they tenderly attired1 their babes for burial. With eyes glistening with tears, they lifted the little bodies and, dressed them in white, and round the baby waists they tied the ribbon with the little pink flowers. Then they laid1 their infante side by side in the large coffin again, placing them on their sides, so that the little white faces lay together, and the little hands touched. For a. few minutes the two roughly-dressed, rough-hewn men stood looking on the small waxen forms, and then they stepped backwards out of the place of death and went sadly away. Later in the day they attended an inquest held by Mr. G. E. Penman, the Gravesend coroner.
THE WAR IN THE FAR EAST. GENERAL LINIEVICH'S POSITION. An invalided Staff officer from General Lini e, vich's headquarters informs the Standard correspondent at Odessa, that, despite the optimistic despatches from the front to the General Staff in St. Petersburg, the actual position of the Russian Army in Manchuria is extremely precarious. The Russian Intelli- gence Staff knows comparatively nothing of the enemy's numbers and dispositions, and the ex- tended line of the Russian forces (about 250 versts -167 miles) leaves them open to be pierced at many points by the Japanese generals.
Vienna will be the first city in the world to have its clocks regulated by wireless tele- graphy. Public clocks in the city are to be served free by the wireless system-, 'but the ratepayers will have to subscribe singly to get their house clocks connected. 0 The Army Council, on of the subject, has decided to retain the title of t''Brigadier-General1'' for which "Brigadier" was WiCQZiSHs
( fiOME liixwo. III In making a fruit pie be sure to have a, Fmuq opening in the centre of the crust, *.nd keep IB cleax with an earthenware funnel. To prevent made mustard from drying aid casing in tie mustard-pot add a little salt wheu making it. It is a, mistake to lay scrubbing-brushes with the bristle side upwards. They should always be put with the bristles down, otherwise the water will soak into the wooden part and bristles very soon become loose. It is not economy to use a very small quantity of fat when frying fish, or anything that Deeds to be submerged. If the fat in the pan is good depth it will not waste so much as if only a little is used. Lemon juice, if strained and bottled, will keep good for weeks, and is always ready for pse when required. The yellow parts of the r:nd should be grated off, mixed with a little easier sugar, and put in a wide mouthed bottle. A cracked egg will boil perfeotly well if wrapped in greased paper, tied round with a piece of string, and plunged into boiling water. When burning garbage in the range it is a' mistake to put the waste directly on the fire. Put it under the side or back lids, where the fire does not come in contact with it, and it will dry out. It is best to put the garbage in the stove at night, and by the morning it is dried to a. tinder, and will blaze up and burn when tbe fire gets hotter, leaving no odour whatever. The practice of "hanging" game has for its object the loosening of the fibres of the flesh. and the lessening of the rigidity which sets ;n in a few hours after the bird is killed. Without allowing it to get "high," which is far from wholesome from a gastronomic point of view, a bird should be hung long enough to ensure tenderness, for a tough grouse or woodcock is tastelesis ae well as indigestible. A piece of charcoal in the beak of a grouse, snipe, partridge, or indeed of all game, will cc much' towards keeping it free from taint, and many Scotch cooks use either pepper or ground coffee as a preservative, which they sprinkle over the feathers or rub into the fur. Venison requires a considerable amount of supervision while it is hanging. Every day^t should be examined and wiped with a dry cloth. It should be hung outside in the air if possible ;• suspended from the boughs of a tree in a venti- lated safe or a wired gauze cage is an ideal position, and one or two pieces of charcoal placed beside it will do much, to prevent it from oecoming tainted. In plucking birds, be careful not to break tfce rrin. Woodcock, snipe, landrail, and plovers Is-e not drawn before cooking, and in no case fiiould birds ever be washed. They should cniy b' wiped with a damp cloth, and then Kith a clean, dry one- For the people who like apples and onions, a finer dish is produced by slicing them in alter- nate layers into a baking dish with a little butter, pepper and salt added to each layer, and only sufficient water to prevent burning. Cover them and bake till done. The flavour of the onion ia much more delicate anl the odour is, while cook- ing, almost entirely overcome. I Good Summer Drinks.—Two good summer drinks were recently invented by a young house- keeper. She added a little lemon juice and ico water to the rich juice from canned strawberries anl the result was tlxceedingly palatable and re- freshing. Lured on by her .success she proceeded to make strawberry vinegar after the same recipe by which she made raspberry vinegar, also with gratifying results. Bottled Mint Sauce.-The average market does not supply fresh mint during the winter month a and many persons content themselves with the inferior dried and powdered mint. Mint sauce can be prepared now and bottled for winter con- sumption. Prepare in the usual manner and &dd a small p<"&ce of horse-radish to ea,ch bottle before sealing. Fill the bottles very full and cork and seal tight. The sauce is much improved if; before serving, a little clear, rich soup stock is added. To a gill of sauce use three tablespoons of the stock. The Best of All Desserts.—In this weather anything like a hot dessert is not to be thought of. Ice cream is, after all, the best at all desserts, and every kitchen should have a freezer. Most ices are cheap when made at home, and are far more wholesome as a rule than those purchased from manufacturers. The reason the freezer ia not more popular is because most housekeepers display an amazing lack of imagination making creams. Vanilla, chocolate, coffee, and a few water ices are about all made in the average household. It is easy to have ice cream three times a week and vary the flavour almost inde- finitely. The best ice creams are made simply of cream, sugar, and fresh fruit or fruit juice. There are frozen custards which are a little cheaper, and water ices, which are cheaper still. With a little experience, the fancy French creams can be made at home without much trouble. The bath is a little tiresome to keep in good condition, unless great care is taken. When the enamel is dirty and discoloured, take seme paraffin, dip a piece of flannel in it, and keep rub- bing the bath gently until all dirt is removed then wash with warm soap and water. Zinc goods can be made to look like new in this way. Paraffin is useful in so many ways and is of wonderful assistance to the housewife while wag- ing her war against dirt. In purchasing beef take notice of the colour. The lean will be a bright red, flecked with spots of clear white fat, and the suet firm and white. If the fat be yellow don't buy the meat; you may be sure it is stale. Veal should be fat, fine grained, and white. If too large it will be tough, unpalatable, and unliea ful. In selecting mutton seek small bones, short legs, plump, fine grained meat, and be sure that the lean is'dark coloured—not light and bright red like beef. The fat should be white and clear. Bread and Jam Fritters.—For bread-and-jam fritters, first the batter must be made. Put four ounces of flour and a quarter of a teaspoonful of salt into a basin. Break the egg into the middle of it, pour on to it two tablespoonfuls of milk, and with a wooden spoon work in the flour gradually 'then add half a gill of milk, stirring it well in; next beat the batter well till the surface is covered with bubbles, and j lastly add enough milk to make up the quantity of one gill. Cut the bread and butter into nean pieces and spread them over with jam (any kind wnthout stones). Have ready a pan of frying fat. When a bluish smoke arises from it dip some of the bread and jam into the batter, then drop them into the frying fat and fry them a pretty golden brown. Then drain them well on kitchen paper, dust them over with powdered sugar. Serve them heaped upon a lace paper. Orange Tapioca.—Orange tapioca may be made with milk or water, according to circumstances. Here, however, is a very dainty dish quite good enough for any festive occasion. Soak two tablespoonfuls of pearl tapioca in hot water to cover until the water is all absorbed place the tapioca in a double boiler with a pint of milk, a scant half cupful of sugar, a pinch of salt, and cook until the tapioca, is soft and trans- parent; add the beeven yolks of two eggs, cook two or three minutes until it thickens like boiled custard and take at once from the fine; add the white of one egg beaten to a foam and a half teaspoonful of orange extract, then pour in a glass dish, in the bottom of which are a couple of sliced sweet oranges; beat the whites of two eggs to a stiff meringue^ with two tablespoon- fuls of sugar; flavour lightly with orange and pile up roughly on the pudding; set in a cool oven until the meringue rises ztnd turns a delicate brown. The oven must be very cocl.