SUPPLEMENT TO THE AUCKLAND EVENING STAR.

UNKNOWN

Some of our-..iv thy coloured brethren of the Baptist S^-aasion had a baptism down the cr-^JUt Sunday, and the cere mony attracted'^ large crowd of people. Mrs. Pitman's coloured servant girl was very anxious to be present, and as it was not her Sunday out, she slipped away from the house while the dinner was cooking, and went round in her working clothes. Her interest was so intense that she stood close to the minister, who was in the water while the ceremony pro ceeded. After six or seven had been dipped, the minister, filled with enthusi asm, seized her and pulled her into the water, She resisted, but the minister imagined. she was merely afraid of the coldness of the water, so, before she could explain the situatiou, he soused her. She came up spluttering, and exclaimed •. ' What you doin'P Lemme go, I tell you!' But he exerted his strength, and_sent her'ker-chuck' below the surface again. She emerged, clawing the air wildly and shouting : ' Gr'wi>y from here ! Don't you chuck me under agin, you nigger !' But the minister was inexorable, and he plunged her under the third time, and held her there for a minute, so as to soak in and do her good. Then she came up and struck for the shore, and standing there, looking like a draggled mermaid cut i"_ ebony, she shook her fist at the astonished pastor, and shrieked : ' Oh, I'll fix you ! I'll bust the head offen you, you or'nary trash, sousin' me in dat dare creek and nearly drowned me, when you knowed well enough all de time dat I's a Methodist, and been christened by dem dats yer betters, and knows more about religion den all the Baptisses dat ever shouted, you mis'able black scum! and me got de rhumatiz 'nough to set me crazy ! Oh, I'll see what de law kin do for you ! I'll have you 'rested dis very day, or my name's not Johanna Johnson, you woolly-headed herrin'! You hear me ?' Then Johanna went home to redress, and the ceremony proceeded. Miss Johnson is now persuaded that the Baptists are not any better than pagans.

A Woman's Will.

The Secret of a Fair Complexion.

A Parts correspondent writes: In connection with the matter of feminize vanity comes a curious bit of gossip concerning a young matron who has journeyed all over Europe with Milwaukee, Wisconsin, U. S. A.' painted upon her trunks. This young matron would have been a beautiful woman had she a sea-shell's tint upon her face. Unfortunately she had lived long enough in a bilious Western State to become possessed of the lemon-peel complexion that is gained by an intimate acquaintance with chills and fever, and from the caressing touch of prairie winds and sunshine. She had been in Europe long enough to have regained perfect health : but she found that even after the cause was removed, the effect of a bilious habit - saffron skin—remained. fche consulted physician after physician in vain They all. gave her the same advice—to eat sparingly, <to bathe freely, and to avoid cosmetics. This was exactly what she had done for y ear g_having abandoned the use of powder, as she tells herself, ever since the day in which her eldest daughter, aged ten, came majestically gliding down the broad aisle of the church during her first prayer, with her young face so bedaubed and besmeared with her mother's lily-white that she looked as if made up for a stage-ghost. She had lived lightly, bathed freely, and eschewed cosmetics; and still, though a blonde, with golden hair and blue eyes, was as sallow as a consumptive gypsy, H_e felt inclined to offer a large reward to any chemist who would discover the secret of turning golden flesh into snow; and her hus band openly declared that, to '■ ease Kitty's mind,' he would pay §5,000 for any ' moth and frecke lotion' that would" truly perform the wonders of metamorphosis that so many pretended to do.

All at once it began to be noticed in the hotel that little Mrs. C. was not very often to be found in her room, or indeed, elsewhere about the hotel. Ber cafe au lait, was taken to her every morning, but after that she was never seen by servant or friend until late in tbe evening. She did not remain in her room, for after her absence began to be whispered about as a mystery, the servants were ques tioned as to her whereabouts, and could tell nothing save that she left every morning, very plainly dressed and re _ turned at evening apparently very much fatigued. Curiosity so tormen ted certain female inmates of the hotel as to little Mrs. C.'s proceedings that they arose one morning at an uncon scionably early hour for them and watched on the stairs for her solitary departure. They retailed their gossip in several rooms later —that she went out in a plain alpaca dress and water proof, and although dressed with such mysterious plainness, was evidently very much 'gotten up' as to complexion, for she looked almost as fair as an Englishwoman. Every Sabbath, how ever, Mrs. C. remained away from her mysterious business, whatever it might be, and came regularly to the table d'hote with her brother, while Mr. (-. had gone on a hurried business trip to rade, 20n8in. Xothose.en a^ tne ladies of "the establish aX^st^i' began to whisper darkly of an of a handsome lover, and of •££■". \W__ blissful meetings in the secret 0^ *^c c**y > or **j was ev^ent i ffetl fcaher husband's absence, Mrs-. 0. * "V&8 behaving shamefully, and had even i

gone to the extent of getting her face enamelled after Madame Bachel's costly method. But one day, long to be remembered in the annals of that hotel in the Rue de Castiglione, after the ladies had stooped to various de vices to discover the mystery of Mrs. C_'s life—had even followed her into the street, and after seeing her drive rapidly away in a voiture, had followed her in another till somehow they would lose sight of her carriage in the crowd —the mystery all came out, and Mrs. O/s secret was buzzed about from mouth to mouth. And it was a secret! — enough to convince one that a woman is the greatest of mysteries her self a riddle even to those who know her best.

It is not more than a month ago that Mme. S., a florid and portly Eng lish matron, who is as much concerned at her prospective increase to elephan tine proportions as was ever Lord Byron at the gain of a pound of adipose, went out to take a Turkish bath, hav ing been recommended to do so as a remedy against excessive corpulence, .-he returned to the hotel and her gos sips, pale with excitement and stutter ing with a desire to tell her story faster than her tongue could move* ' I went into the room,' she gasped, ' and called for my attendant. She came, dressed in a red flannel blouse, in Turkish trousers, with bare feet and arms. She was white as milk every-

where—on bosom, neck, arms, feet, face, the was as lovely as a picture, with her shiniDg golden hair and large, blue eyes. She was prettier than a picture, for she—she—she —was — Mrs. C.!' This was the whole matter in a nut-shell. Mrs. 0. had observed, while taking her Turkish bath, that her attendants had the whitest skins imaginable. Questioning them, she learned that it was a result of sweat ing in a hot, damp atmosphere. In stantly her resolution was taken, and, taking advantage of her husband's absence, she became an attendant in the Turkish bath establishment in fan endeavour to rid herself of her yellow roses, .^nd those friends who meet Mrs. C. when she returns to America next year, with a face as fair as a child's, need not tell her that they have learned from me the wav in which she gained it.

A Gambler's Stake.

The Marquis Angelo Foscarini had been travelling throughout Europe for several years, sanitary measures in ducing him to visit Paris. To the gay metropolis he was accompanied by his daughter, the beautiful Olympia, she being the only issue of three most un happy marriages. 'ihe disappointment of Foscarini's life had been in not having had an heir. He would have given his for tune, almost his life, for a son, one who could perpetuate the noble name of Foscarini. His life was passed in orgies and every sort of dissipation. He loved Olympia, not as a father should have loved his daughter, but rather because she was beautiful, and one of the most precious of his pos sessions. He kept her always with him, and had refused her hand in mar riage to some of tbe most distinguished noblemen in Austria and Italy.

' Remain with me,' he would say ; ' you will have plenty of time to marry when I am dead.'

After a night of excitement and dis sipation it was his habit to take a bath in the Seine, in order to revive his exhausted energies. One day, while bathing, lie was seized with cramps, and, had not some one rushed to his rescue, he would have been drowned. In his preserver he recognised an officer of the Trabens, one whom he had first met in Piede mont, and afterward at Vienna; whose assiduities to Olympia had' given him some uneasiness.

The young officer, on discovering that the man whose life he had saved was no other than the Marquis^ Fos carini, at once requested permission to call upon himself and daughter. To this request the Marquis most coldly acquiesced, it being impossible, under the circumstances, to venture a refusal Stephen Le -Soy at once embraced the advantage afforded by the position, and within a month after the accident the Marquis and Le Roy were in separable. Le Roy was deeply in love with Olympia, but vow wisely and cautiously repressed any manifestation of" his feelings —moreover, had expressed himself to the Marquis as being entirely cured of his very extravagant passion. \ ',' He addressed Olympia without any apparent trembling or embarrassment, paying her only the ordinary compli ments permitted by society. the Marquis, feeling entirely reassured, and having perfect confidence, made Le Boy bis friend and confidant. While the old nobleman was misled, the young people, nevertheless, under stood each other, and in all respects Olympia assisted her lover in his scheme. Thus Le Roy was enabled to pass every evening at the hotel of the Marquis", and, in order to humour the nobleman became a devoted gambler. In one month he had lost two months' salary and all he could

borrow. Olympia had advised him to play in order to ingratiate him with her father. ?he lent him gold, which he lost, and the more he lost the more fond the old Marquis became, for he knew of

no emotion save in play, no happiness except that which was derived from gain. At length the luck turned in favour of Le .hoy—night after night he won. Tbe Marquis was devoted to bouillotte; this game he had taught Stephen, who, altogether indifferent to its merits, nevertheless expressed admiration for the same.

One evening Le -Hoy came half an hour earlier to the hotel than was his custom. On that occasion Olympia gave him the sum of fifty louis. It was the only money Olympia had in her possession. Le Roy was without means, and was obliged to submit to circumstances, as failure to play would have called forth the ill will of the Marquis and deprive them of meeting.

'This is all that remains,' said Olympia, sadly. ' Should I lose it, this life of decep tion must end,' responded Le Roy. 'I will then go to the Marquis and request your hand in marriage.'

' And if refused,' replied the young girl. ' Then I will blow out my brains,' was the quiet rejoinder. Olympia shuddered at the words for she well knew that Le Eoy would keep his vow faithfully. ' There is happiness in life,' she murmured. ■ Tea, there is happiness^ in life if that life be shared by you,' he respon ded. ' But deprived of that hope, I refuse to live.'

And death ! have you no fear o death ?'

No Olympia,' he replied thought fully, ' 1 do not fear. I believe in a great power. We of this world are forced into life, not of our own free will, but the will of others. I his existence, with its suffering, its hopes and fears, is our punishment; its disappointments our curse. This is the life of the flesh, that which is corruptible ; beyond lies the life of the soul.'

' But what may not tbe soul suffer in the hereafter ? What may it not endure ?

' Nothing, except it be happiness,' responded Le Boy. ' Our misery is here, our peace is beyond the grave.' ' ._■> nd the grave?' enquired the girl with a shudder.

'Is what we mortals most dread because it produces horror. The hereafter is an unknown land ; but let us forget this for the present. Whe ther I lose or win, this night I am determined to speak. We have too long yielded to deception. Let the issue be what it will, I am resolved to solve it. If happiness is to be ours, we will thank heaven for the boon; if not, we will say farewell,'

At this instant the Marquis Fos carini entered tbe room, and Le Roy accompanied him to the table where they seated themselves to play, others being assembled. At the gaming table there was a Paris banker, a cap tain of an English vessel and two planters all absorbed in the chances of the game. Le Foy commenced by throwing down ten louis, then ten more, and so on until he lost all. As he pushed the money aside he shivered and his head sank upon his breast. Foscarini laid his hand upon his arm. ' Why, what is the matter, Le Boy ?' he said in surprise.

' Nothing," responded the young officer, as he once more placed ten] louis upon the board. This time he gained one hundred; gradually the sum increased and doubled. The banker won one hundred and twenty thousand francs, the captain twenty thousand, and the planters one hun dred and thirty thousand. It was the Marquis Foscarini who had lost all his money. Much excited the gamesters drank together and then promised to meet again in a few hours. At the solicitation of Olympia, Le Roy postponed speaking to her father, whose losses had been very great. The meeting of the party again took place as arranged, and Foscarini lost all he possessed in the world—his palaces in Florence and Naples, his villas at the foot of Vesuvius and in the neighbourhood of Rome —there remained not a vestige of his large fortune. He was ruined. Through the closed shutters and crimson curtains the day was piercing and made the dying candles look still more pale. Of this six gamblers four re sembled statues. The immense losses of their host amazed them, although accustomed as they were to loss as a result of gaming. . \ Two men alohe among them seemed to retain their self-possession, and they were Le Roy and Foscarini. The latcer was searching. his pockets in the vain hope of finding something to stake, but not even his watch re mained. His countenance was terrible to behold. 'Gentlemen,' he at length said, 'all I once had is now yours, and you can with authority bid me quit this house which is no longer mine.' ' Marquis!' exclaimed Le Roy. 'Nay, listen to me,' continued Foscarini, addressing Le Roy. ' You once loved my daughter, and I refused you her hand.' ' You did.' j ' Do you love her still ?' ' Yes, fervently.' j ' Again, I repeat, are you sure that! you love her as you once professed ?. . 'I do.' * • ' "What say you, then, to play for her?' At these terrible words, all the; gamesters arose, but were incapable; of speaking, so great was their

excitement. In gesture they implored Le Boy to refuse. 'Then I accept your proposition,' replied Le Roy coldly ; ' now listen to mine.'

All present expressed horror at such | an arrangement. Foscarini returned their gaze with one of sovereign! contempt and indifference. Then turning to Le Boy he said, 'Be it as you wish.' 'I play for your daughter,' replied the young officer, ' against all I possess in the world, my name, my person and my honor.' 'It is well,' responded the Marquis, as be speedily threw three cards upon the table. They were three aces. Le Hoy also threw three cards; they were three tens ; he drew a fourth card, it j was also a ten. He had gained.

All arose, desiring to depart. As they saluted the Marquis they saw that he was weeping. The loss of his child and his millions had reduced him to a state of wretchedness beyond even the misery of mendicity. Le Roy approached the Marquis. For an instant he paused. 'Monsieur le Marquis,' he said, at length, 'this has been a horrible dream; you have lost nothing and gained nothing.' . ' What do you mean ?' inquired Foscarini. 'You say I have lost noth ing. Ask those who leave this house laden with my gold if I have lost noth ing. Oh, no; my tears and emotions are naught to you.' Thus speakiDg he passed from the room, and no one attempted to prevent him so doing, and soon Le Roy found himself alone in the apartments.

The young officer was about to depart when Foscarini suddenly re entered the apartment, accompanied by Olympia. ' M onsieur,' he said, addressing Le f?oy, ' I am aware of my position, but even now, I tell you that you cannot be my son-in-law.' <■ Why ?' demanded Le Boy ; ' I have not only the right of her preference and my own, but the right of honor — a debt of honor on your part.' ' And yet I say it cannot be. You, although an officer in the army, are of humble birth—you are not noble. Olympia cannot be your wife —at least not while I live. Nevertheless, as you say, in point of honor she belongs to you ; yet while I hold my claim I shall have something to gamble for, and we have not done with each other.'

The horrid words chilled the listener to the soul. Having spoken, the Marquis locked the door and placed the key in his pocket. ' And now for my revenge,' he con tinned, drawing two pistols from his pocket. You see they &re both alike, and both unloaded "I will load oue of them. Olympia shall, while our backs are turned, place them both on the table. You shall then choose, and we will fire at the same moment. Should I kill you, my daughter re turns with me to Italy. If you, on the contrary, kill me, Olympia is at liberty to give you her hand. the will care but little that you have been the assassin of her father.

Le J_oy would have spoken or left the house, but reading his design, the Marquis anticipated him. ' If you take one step,' he exclaimed, ' or utter one word, I will fire upon you, and then upon Olympia.' At these words the young girl uttered a wild cry and fell fainting at his feet. ' Have you no mercy ?' inquired Le Roy. ' None,' responded Foscarini. 'Since I must act I will do so.' He at once mingled the pistols, his back being turned from Le Roy. The young officer, obedient, to tho order of the Marquis selected a pistol. Attaching themselves to the corner of a handker chief they fiied at the same instant. Le Roy. won, but Olympia Foscarini lay dead beside her father.

LOVE'S LABOUR LOST.

I loved her with a perfect love, That flung all sense away ! And near my heart I wore her glove, And kissed it ev'ry day ! I kept the flowers from her hair— I have some rose-leaves still; And thought how very dear they were— When came the florist's bill! I lived a life of stupid bliss, Yet never dared to speak ! And if I got her hand to kiss Was happy for a week ! But when at last my fate I tried, She said, in icy tones, ' Next week, sir, I shall be the bride Of John Augustus Jones.'

'A man without eyes saw plums on a tree. Neither took plums nor left plums, pray how could that be.' To which I should answer : ' The man had'nt eyes, but he had just one eye, with which on the tree two plums he could spy, he nei ther took plums, nor plums did he leave; but took one and left one as we may con ceive.

Hungry Diner.—. Trouble you for some more bread. I always eat a good deal of bread with my meat.' Landlord. —' So I see, Sir ; and a good deal of meat with your bread,'

What should be the name of a lawyer's wife ? Sue. A printer's wife ? Em. A druggist's wife? Ann Eliza. A carpet man's wife ? Mat-tie.

' Is this the Adam House ?' asked a stranger of a Bostonian. ' Yes,' was the reply: ' it's Adam's House until you get to the roof, then its eaves.'

'Jessie, what waa Joe's arm doing round your waist when you were at the front gate last night ?' asked a preco cious boy of his sister. ' His arm wasn't round my waist; I won a belt from him, and he was, taking my measure,' replied the indignant young lady.

Poetry.

OLDEN HAUNTS.

BY JOHN BLACKS-AST,

I.—The River Mole. The forms of nature seemed to sleep

Beneath the peaceful evening sky; The rose appeared in slumber deep

With tear-drops in its dreamy eye. Yet Nature's favourite knew no care,

Nor did t*iat flower with sorrow pine ; My sorrow placed the dew-drops there, Its pen.ive hues were woes of mine, Eeflected on it from my soul, Among the windings of the Mole. I met my love beneath a tree— The trysting tree—on that sad eve; Where that calm river wandered free, And beauty lured but to deceive. The sparkling water sped along. Between the cowslip dotted meads, The yellow-hammer _ tweeting song We heard among the rustling reeds; While zephyrs 'mong the hazels stole, Among the windings of the Mole. We talkf d of past adventures therp,

And fuiure prospects 'neath the trees, Of other lands, reported fair, And golden isles beyond the seas. But shadows hovered ocr each heart, And chased the smile from either cheek, And knowing soon that we must part, We felt much more than we could speak, And wept upon a memoried knoll Among the windings of the Mole. The insects buzzed their evening hymn, The bees hummed forth a mellow sound, Th* swallows, indistinct and dim, Were veering gaily round and round; While on the ruin's ivied pile, Where Wolsey dwelt in other days, Was seep the sunset's heavenly smile,

In rich, and fair and lessening rays, AU changing 'neatta a wise control, Among the windings _f the Mole. In memory live these parting hours, Those cherished scenes so oft surveyel, Those olden haunts which Spring o'er-flowers— The cottage and the hawthorn glade — The last fond look, the parting tears That trembled down from young bright eyes; Those genial smiles of other year?, The wild rose, and the heartfelt sfghs Which sacred mado that final stroll Among the windings of the Mole. 2.— The Shady Lake A happy thought, no matter wh»rc That thought may be expressed, May cheer some sorrow-laden heart, Or calm some grief to rast. The heavenly breath of some sweet prayer May error's steps restrain ; And angel-music may be heard—- Along a shady lane Health breath? s upon the mossy hills, And music 'mong green leaves; And son? is heard in every breeze— For nought in nature grieves ; Thi gra.s and slumbrous tree.? revive Beneath ttie trickling ruin, And wild flowers smile with freshened hues Along the shady lan.. Beneath those elms, in youth's bright years, Entranced by beauty's spell. IVe lingered oft 'mid golden charms, Till twilight round me fell; And wondered why poor people weep, And why the rich compla.n, Wh*-n so much Bolace may be found Along the shady lane. There crested flowers in silence breathed. And all the air perfumed ; There ferns grew picturesque and wild, And speckled foxglove? bloomed ; There tweetled forth the wiUow wren. In emulative strain. Mid nature's leafy orches'fa, Along the shady lane. There pcesy, and hope, and leva Shone in my early deams, As Dymphs were said by Grecian bards To spoit by tilver streams. Though w:st leads may deem them vague, Mere phantoms of the bain, Like unseen anuels, still they walk AloLg thd shady lane.

NIGHT RIDE IN FAIRYLAND.

All night the great elms shook for fear, And writhed as if in pain. Between the pauses of my sleep

I heard the gusty ram ; Quite sick of this world a-.d unmanned, 1 rocie away to fairyland. All n.ght the bellowing of the storm The crazy chimney rocked and shook ; Till, wea.y of t-is sound of woe, Weary of pen and ink and bjok, A biid c watched with c-reless hand And nde an hour through Fairyland. I heard slid a- I flew along, The old oak's branches shake and shake, Yet w.ary ol this stubborn heart. That throbs and throbs, but will not break, I sought lot Oberon and his band, And rode long leagues through Fairyland. I found the court; in love and dance I whiled away the summer hours; Lances I broku. and quaffed the cup, v> here fell a rain of crimson ft_werg. They ull obeyed my proud c-inmand, Those little lolks of Fairyland. I won the Fairy crown at last, And built a castle tall and proud: The roof was suushine, and the walls Were formed of rainbow and of cloud ; I bade the goblins own my sway— A shout-1 woke and it was day.

Twin Brides.

A Chicago paper says these pleasant words about some beautiful Western twin brides : 'We had the pleasure of jsesing the newly-made twin brides at the Gibson House last night, and must confess that a more perfect exemplification of the French story of Girofle-Grirofla could hardly exist. They were at supper with their husbands last night when we' saw them, and a nice little tea party the four made. The bridegrooms are brothers, but not twins. It is not often in a life time that one is permitted to see two brothers married to two twin sisters. The husbands are easily distingushed the one from the other. ( The elder one wears full wiskers, while the younger has simply a moustache. The trouble to be apprehended is in the same ness of the wives, and a very pretty sameness it is. To use a homely but trvte phrase, they are as like as two peas. To describe the one, would be to describe both. They are of medium size, perfect brunettes, dress exactly alike, and seem to be about twenty years old. Beauty has richly endowed these fair brides, and placed its dimpled seal in the cheeks of each. How, in the order of human pas sion, it came to pass that either of the husbands could fall in love with his wife without falling in love at the same time with the other sister, passes our under standing. It has been suggested the Morgan brothers fell in love with both the Stuart sisters, and, to settle the matter, put their sweethearts in a bag, shook 'em up, and drew cuts for the one that came out Brst. We suppose they know, but we don't see how either of them knows to which one of the twins he is married. They came in to supper, and by iudicious adjustment were seated each at 'he right hand of her husband. When they went out of the dining-room one couple was allowed to get some distance in advance before the other started, to prevent confusion. i

An Inquisitive Seevant —Talleyrand had a confidential servant who was devo ted to his interests, but withal superla tively inquisitive. Having one day entrusted him wvth a letter, the Prince watched his faithful valet from the window of his apartment, and with some surprise observed him coolly reading the letter as he went. On the next day a similar com mission was confided to the servant, and to the second letter was added a postscript, couched in the following terms :— You may send a verbal answer by the bearer ; he is perfectly acquainted with the whole affair, having taken the precaution to read this previous to its delivery.

Boswell in Love.

Boswell, according to a writer in 'Tem ple Bar,' was once in love with a Scotch lass, named Blair : ' Her behaviour was rather-cooler to him than Boswell either expected or relished; and apprehensive that he should lose her he petitioned his friend Temple, a clergyman, to help him to soften her obduracy. That Temple might not blunder, Boswell wrote down certain instructions which the reverend gentleman was carefully to observe : « Wednesday—Breakfast at 8; set out at 9 ; Thomas will bring you to Adam town a little after 11. Send up your name. If possible put up your horses there ; they can have cut grass. It not, Thomas will take them to Mountain, a place a mile off, and come back and wait at dinner. Give Miss Blair my letter. Salute her and her mother ; ask to walk. See the place fully; think of what improvements should be made. Talk of my mare, the purse, the chocolate. Tell her you are my very old and intimate friend. Praise me for my good qualities —you know them; but talk also how odd, how inconsistent, how impetuous, how much accustomed to women of intrigue. Ask gravely, ' Pray don't you think there is something of madness in that family ?' Talk of my various travels, German Princes, Voltaire and Rousseau. Talk of my father, my strong desire to have my own house. Observe her well. See, how amiable ! Judge if she would be happy with your friend. Think of me as the great man of Adamtown— quite classical, too. Study the mother. .Remember well what passes. Stay^ to tea. At 6 order horses and go to New Mills, two miles from London; but if they press you to stay all night, do it. Be a man of as much ease as possible. Consider what a romantic expedition you are on. Take notes. Perhaps you now fix me for life.'

' The whole history of love 'and court ship offers nothing more ludicrous than this document. Temple's intercession was not without fruit. 'At last I am here,' writes Boswell from Miss Blair's house : ' at last 1 am here, and our meet ing has been such as you paint in your last but one. I have been here but one night; she insisted on my staying an other ; I am dressed in green and gold ; I have my chaise in which I sit alone, like Mr. Gray, and Thomas rides by me in a claret-coloured suit with a silver laced hat.' He went with her to the theatre at Edinburgh to see * Othello.' «I sat close behind the Princess (as he called her), and at the most affecting scenes I pressed my hand upon her waist. She was in tears, and rather leaned to me.' He then reports a conversation between ' I really have no particular liking for you,' says Miss Blair. 'I like many people as well as you.' 'Do you, indeed? returns Boswell. ' Well I cannot help it; lam obliged to you for telling me so in time. lam sorry Frir if ' 'I' like Jeannie Maxwell better than

y°^Very well; but do you like no man better than me?' <Is°'it possible that you may like me better than other men ?' . ' I don't know what is possible. « You are very fond of A™hinleck (his father's estate) ; that is one gooa circum a fa t-» (_Q ' I confess I am. I wish I liked you as well as Auchiuleck' • Her candour would hare put an end to most men's hopes and passions too. But Boswell went on for two months provoking her sarcasms, until he saw the game was up. Yet three days after he had formally resigned her, three days after he had told her^that he was thrown upon the wide world again, and that he didn't know what would become of him, he wrote: ' The heiress (meaning Miss Blair) is a good Scots lass, but I must have an English woman. My mind is now twice as enlarged as it has been for some months. You cannot say how fine a woman I may marry, per haps a Howard or some other of the noblest in the kingdom. Later he con gratulates himself on having escaped the insensible Miss 8., fori have now seen the finest creature that ever was formed 'la belle Irlandaise.' Figure to yourself, Temple, a young lady just 16, formed like a Grecian nymph, with tbe sweetest coun tenance, full of sensiblity,'accomplished, with a Dublin education, always half the, year in Ireland, her father a counsellor .at law, with an estate of £1,000 a year, and I above £10,000 in ready money.' 'But neither England, nor Ireland, nor Holland was to have the honour of sup plying Boswell with a wife, for in 1769 he married a countrywoman, Miss Margaret Montgomerie, of whom Johnson said that she cannot rival him (Boswell) nor can he ever be ashamed of her.' She belonged to a noble family, Eglington. Boswell had a servile admiration of her abilities, and actually kept a record of her sayings, as Swift kept a record of Stella's, which he labelled ' TTxoriana.' From this collection it does not appear that she had a great respect for him.'

Mocking birds are valuable pets in a family of girls. It has, been discovered: that they can imitate J to perfection the sound of every species of kiss, from the: inspirational alnd devotional to the parox ysmal. When paterfamilias hereafter hears any suspicious ' swee-peep ' from the parlour, Angelina will explain that * it was only the mocking-bird.' It is said; that a bird well-trained in this accomplish ment will bring $200 in Brooklyn.:

Woman's Wobk—lt is officially an nounced in Maine that any woman who has been ordainod to preach for any recognized religious denomination,. on; proof of such fact and proper recom mendation by any persons personally known to the Governor, will be appointed! to solemnize marriages in any part of the: State. Any woman who has duties to discharge in a public or private office or, in any other position where the discharge, of the duties imposed upon her makes it, necessary or convenient that she should receive the authority, will be appointed! to take acknowledgment of deeds and affidavits, as well as to solemnize mar-; riages, for the country m wich she resides, on furnishing the' Governor with; appropriate recommendations of citizens generally known to him. .

Printed and published by- the propietors/-- George McCullagh Keed, of St George's Bay, and Henry Brett, of Parnell, at their General Steam Printing Office, Wyndham-street, in the City,; of, Anekland. New Zealand:— ' " T *""'"" ".'"* *-'\-» ' ■ Satliira-yi October9,lßfS* 070 mo'i"



T» W D V S O N BEING ABOUT TO REMOVE TO THOSE QOMMODIOUS AND QENTRAI- J-BEMISES IN COURSE OT ERECTION Queek-Street, IS NOW HOLDING A CLEARANCE SALE. OF GENERAIi DRAPERY AND CLOTHING^ LADIES' AND BABY WARES. Having determined to Clear out bis .present Stock at an ENORMOUS REDUCTION, to enable him i to open with an ENTIRELY NEW STOCK, . in the New Premises, UNDOUBTED ; \ BARGAINS will be given for a FEW WE EKS. .. . m~ THE FIRST DELIVERY OF' SPRING ••'.':': GOODS; Comprising the Latest Novelties, are also included in this -,_•( CHEAP SALE IV Observe— ' , E, 'W. D V S O "jN>:S .1 -.•:■: , . .'. . • ■ ■ . . . fVOB * Temporary Premises, OPPOSITE DICKEY'S, IRONMONGERS, 1 Next Brookes'Boot Shop. ..'



OTI:NKS AND JJ ALi FURNISHING WAREHOUSE* "Wholesale and Retail. '. r. : Visitors to Auckland should inspect the ; EXTENSIVE DISPLAY OF FUENITURE v* every description for tbe complete, fur-rj nisbing of a house of any, class, with a view to taste combined . with utility. IST LOWEST. PRICES . CONSISTENT -frl-H GUAKANTEBD QUALITY. pARPETS.—WINKS & HALL..t- CAFiPETS ! CARPETS ! j,;. ; CARPETS !!! C A R P E T. S>!' Without exception largest and best assortment in Aucklan select from. , ."; , r j BRUSSELS, TAPESTt ]V,: :; ;] *& 2 AND 3 PLY [KIDDERM. NdTER. COIB, MANILA.; & JUTE MATTIKO FELTS, AN FELT. SQTTAEES, ,| ( HE ETHEUGSi ' J . :: ;i plain & fancy oob *mats, flooe^oth linoleum;, c new cork cabpet. & pURTAINS.—WINKS & HAIiL. CERTAIN ! X^MZtenßqku CURT AT N'S :! ! C UKT ;; ,N;S' I .'"■:*•■-:.: A 4 Tnjgtfl. . Net, LAci:, ■'■'■. wiss, and MtrsiiNi 1' , ' "'. 8 -,;--.ire •tlfioaJ ' 1 ' -'QreatvVariety, •?' •■'■_: ..--■ j.} J * ;";" ,new,.P;aTTERN;s,; :I' :: SILK AND WORSTED DAMASKS REPS AND CBETONNEsi : I - , _r B^IL LIA R D C LO TH S, GILT CHIMNEY AND TOILET GLASSES P^RAMBULATO;R&; hl^nxilq- WIITSS & HALL, ■■■■:,■ ~ m /..:..• ..::•;.:: oft Wholesale and Retail ,-r- CABINETMAKERS & UPHOLSTERERS AG-NTB FOB /■■ GBOYEB & BAKER'S SEWING MACHINES. -''-. ... ...,. 1 -.v m'HB SOTfTH BET TISH FIBB AND MARINE INSURANCE COMPANY;,-^ iiVW ZEALAND. ,;')-^ CAPIT/.L .. ........ ■'... , _67«tf.000, cmxit«d liabuliii. The' large and steady increase of the business h CompiMiy, as shewn by its reports, affords the best proof q£ the confidence of the public in the instltu | Won, and of Its popularity among In-Orers. '; J:[" J '•' It is conducted on sound principles, and is widely ! known for liberality nd promptness la the ssttle i ment of claims. _"'.',- ""_ ' -- ,- r ' { Losses-can be paid at any Agency, at option of i nsured. ' _. . no h hr,i. ■-: , , •<" -.-'i .rj __tr • !.• • j A'-BOARDMAN,;,,.;!' I ' ■ ig - ManaJ , l•' ' ■" ■ ' f_J______ '■^■.-■- *gJQJ