Lumley's Pardner.

I _ have forgotten the name he brought with him from the States, for nobody here ever called him anything else but 'Lum ley's Pardner.'

We miners have a familiar knack of re-christening, and a name once altered, sticks to a man as long as he sticks to the mines ; so, even after Lumley had thrown up his claim and left the diggings, a good three years ago, Lumley's Pardner still remained, a finger-post "to trace the dis tance back.

After all. John Jones, or Lumley's Pardner, what mattered it, in that doubt ful tide of immigration setting in toward the wild regions, where the first confiden tial question, after intimacy seemed to warrant ihe liberty, was inxariably,' Say, comrade, what was your name before you came here ?'

Ycu see, I knew Lumley's Pardner when he first came into tbe mines. I was up at Wood's Diggings at the time he and a party of two or three more came around prospecting. I remember I thought what a fine stalwart young fellow he was, straight as a young pine-tree, andnof®ol ishness about him'either, for he had been roughing it a year or two down on the Texas border.

I never saw the boys more downright pleased over a new-comer than when he bought a claim and went in with us. He was not a man to talk much about himself, nor one you would feel free to question ; but there was honest square-dealing look ing out of his clear gray eyes, for all the trouble and unrest laid up behind them.

Lumley was as different as a man could be. I have often noticed that men take to unlikes in mating among themselves, as well as in choosing mates for life. He came into the diggings a week or so later, and they somehow fell in together. Lum ley was what you might call an extra clever fellow. He looked scarcely more than a boy—these fair-skinned people never show their age —with his handsome womanish face, bright blue eyes, and trim built figure ; but he had confidence until you could not rest, plenty of the gift of the gab, and a something about him—l believe people call it magnetism ; at least, when you were with him you believed just as he did, and then wondered at yourself after wards for doing it.

Lumley always had a knack of twisting folks round his little finger, for all that tbe lines of firmness were quite lacking about his mouth.

Lumley's Pardner, now, with his close set lips, and square massive jaw—you might as well hope to move a mountain as him against his will. He would be strong to do, or to bear; you could easily see that. i

I do not know as it was exactly fair, I never meant to eavesdrop, but it happened it this wise : one night I went over to Lumley's shanty—it,was amazing strange how soon his name got tacked to every thing—to see about a broken pick he wanted mended. I used to do the smith ing in those days. As I opened the door, I saw there was no one in, and, being tired with my day's work, I dropped down on a log just outside, lit my pipe, and sat leaning back against the pine boards waiting for Lumley to come back. I guess I must have got drowsy and fallen asleep, for the first thing I heard was voices, and Lumley's Pardner speaking out bitter and short, in a way we seldom heard him speak. ' I reckon it's of no use to ask if there's any letters come to my name,' he said. ' There's no one to write to me.'

I rubbed open my eyes and saw two gleams of light streaming out through the open door and the oue loop-hole of a window, and then I knew that Lumley and his mate must have passed me by and never seen me in the twilight. ' Raising myself up, I saw Lumley through the window, sitting down to the pine table beside a tallow dip, with two or three letters lying before bim, and one open in his hand, then it flashed across my mind that on<s of the boys from a camp beyond had gone in to the station and was due with the mail that night

Lumley's Pardner sat over tbe far side of the room with a gloomy look in his eye. Being in the same boat myself, I knew how lonesome it was never to have news from home and wondered to myself how a manly fine-looking fellow like him should be without a wife or sweetheart waiting, with a woman's pride in him, somewhere.

Lumley was busy reading his letters. I thought I had better stay outside. He was that intent a\. first that he seemed not to have heard the other's words, but after a moment he lifted his face with one of the proud, bright looks that were Lum ley's own. ' Ay, comrade !' he cried, cheerily; ' and don't tell me it isn't all your own fault. Don't dare to envy me my wife and child.' ;.,

There was no reply ; but.'looking over, I saw such a bitter, sorrowful look on the face of Lumley's Pardner, that, scarcely knowing what I was doing, I stood and watched and pitied him. I heard Lumley read aloud, words of love and trust, watching and waiting, and of happiness in him and the child. I saw his face as he read. He might be a weak man, but he loved the woman and the child. From the last letter there dropped out a carte de visite. Lumley caught it up with boyish eagerness. ' Old pard/ he cried,' you shall see my two treasures. Here they are —Lulie and the boy!' He tossed the picture across the table. The other picked it up. I saw a man die once, stabbed through. the heart. Just such a leok came into the face of Lumley's Pardner as he glanced at that picture in His hahdi Lumley, bending over his letter, never saw it. When he had fin ished reading, he held out his hand. The other did not even raise his eyes, but kept them fixedly on what he held. ' I, too, Once thought to have a wife and child,' he muttered presently, less to Lumley than to himself. The words, following that look, were a whole book of revelation to me. Happily Lumley did not notice. His face showed some surprise, mingled with that placid satisfaction the successful man always wears.

'Ah!' he returned, shaking his head knowingly,' is that the way the land lies P I Imew^you were always close-mouthed, but a disappointment-r-I never suspected that. She, whoever it was, had precious jad taste when she looked the other way!'

and he ran his eye admiringly over the other's splendid propoitions, and manly, handsome face.

' She never refused me,' broke in Lum ley's Pardner, in a low, smothered tone, his eyes still fastened intently on the pic ture. 'I—never asked her; but she knew my mind, and I thought I knew hers. I was sure she would wait for me until I came back. It was for her I went away.'

' But yon wrote to her P' questioned Lumley, with genuine interest. ' Not a word—not a line. lam a poor scribe. But she knew me well enough to need no written assurance of my inten tions. Every day would be lived for her. There could be no boubt of that in her mind.'

Lumley made a hasty gesture of dissent.

' And there, old man, was precisely where you failed to connect! It don't do you know, for women to take too much lor granted. They like to be well forti fied ; and then you are the surest to win if you take them by storm. Why, my Lulie——'

' She don't look as though she ever walked over a true heart with her dainty feet, and that glad little smile just curving her lips!' broke in Lumley's Pardner, his white face still bent on the picture. His deep voice trembled a little over the last words.

' Lulie is truth itself,' answered Lumley, quickly. ' She never loved anybody but me. To be sure, she had admirers—how could she help that and be what she is P— but she loves me truly. You can see it in her eyes !'

Lumley's Pardner turned deathly pale. He caught the table by one hand, as if to steady himself, and fairly hurled the picture across to Lumley. It missed its mark, and fell to the floor. As he saw it fall, all the fierceness died out of his eyes, and a frightened look crept into them.

' Pick her up,' he said, with timid ap prehension, as though it were a human being to whom, in a moment of passion, he had committed some act of violence. ' I didn't mean to do that—poor little mother !'—that last word seemed to give him a stronger footing with himself. ' I was thinking how my wife married another man, and never let me know.'

' Come, come, old man, don't take it so to heart,' said Lumley, soothingly. ' There'll be a pleasant home, a dear little woman, and bright-eyed children in the future for you yet.'

' Nevee !'

Lumley's Pardner brought down his fist like a sledge-hammer ; then he leaned forward in his feat, with a feverish eager ness in his mrnner which he tried hard to keep out of his voice :

' Tell me, how would you have given up your Lulie ?'

Lumley laughed with easy, careless good nature. ' You put me in a tight place,' he said, ' But, supposing the case, the first question I should ask would be, Did she go over to the enemy's camp —in other words, forsake me for an old rival ?'

'N-n-o!' answered Lumley's Pardner, slowly. 'It was some one I had never seen. I've nothing agin the man.'

' Why, then,' went on Lumley, ' truth sometimes cuts hard, old fellow—l think it was your fault, and not the girl's. It's a man's privilege to speak his mind ; a woman's destiny to fold her hands and wait. She can never be quite sure unless he has spoken out. Then, perhaps another, who has learned to love her, does speak. She feels the need of love in her life ; women as often marry to be loved as because they love. Then, instead of wasting her life for that which may never come to her, she takes up the fate lying at her feet. Does she go so very much astray ?'

Lumley's Pardner dropped his heaa upon his breast.

' Poor girl! I never thought of that, he said.

I do not know just how it was that I remembered all the words so plain. There was no more said, and, feeling guilty-like for stealing a mate's secret which it was not meant for me to know, I crept to my shanty, bunked in, and let the broken pick lie over until morning. I always felt sorry for Lumley's Pardner after that.

Well, for a time things went on in the old way. Then Lumley's Pardner came down with the mountain-fever, and Lum ley nursed him through it. He was as tender as a woman, was Lumley ! When I used to drop in of nights, occasionally, to lend a hand at watching, the sick man's eyes would follow him about the room in a helpless, beseeching way that was pitiful to see.

It was only the ghost of Lumley's Pardner that got up from it, but the two were always nigher together after that. When Lumley got back to the claim, and Lumley's Pardner was just able to crawl about, they came into.a wonderful streak of luck. Lumley struck into a big pocket and there they were, in the turn of a die, rich men. Mining, after all, is a game of chance—you buy your ticket, but it does not always win ; there are plenty of blanks to every prize. It does not matter the exact amount this prize netted, if I had remembered it. Lumley was jubilant over his 'pile,' anxious to sell out and leave the mines ; so nobody was surprised when his partner bought him out for a good round sum, saying, in his quiet way, that he guessed he'd stay and see the thing- through. It was very quiet in camp the morning that Lumley went away. The boys were sorry to lose him, for he had not any but well-wishers among us. Well, six months went by, and then came a little white letter, ' scribed' in a dainty woman's hand to Lumley's Pardner. The man trembled all over like a leaf when it w<ts put into his hand, took it into his cabin, and shut fast the door. Within the next half hour he came out again in a desperate hurry, saddled his mule, and rode off down the trail.

' Unexpected business !' was his hasty exclamation. Could not say how soon he might be back. '

The news came to us at last by a party of traders, stopping to noon in camp. Then I knew what those marks of weak ness about his mouth stood for ; Lumley had never left the city at all! He had sat down to the gaming-table one night, and gotten up from it the next morning poorer than he had come into the mines, He had first won, then lost, and lost and won, and won again ; and then that last total blank stared him in the face.

Lum'ey could never give up at that. He must win it all back! Luck was surely in store for him yet! He haunted the gambling-hells, playing recklessly, desperately, so long as he could win enough to keep the ball rolling ; pawning his watch, his ring, even his clothing, when other resources failed.

So Luniley's Pardner found him — heavy-eyed, with a seedy flashiness in his dress, marks of dissipation on his fair, womanish face- a pretty-nearly played, out individual.

The blood rushed all over his face, for the manliness yet left in him could but feel the shame of that meeting. But there was no backing out now. Lumley's Pardner took him to one side.

' I've heard of you, old man,' he said, in his matter-of-fact way, ' and I've come to see you out of this ! How much do you say will clear you up, and have a trifle ahead P'

Lumley never raised his eyes

' Old Pard,' he answered, choking up, ' you're a better friend than I deserve. Don't ask me to take anything from you. I went in with my eyes open, and, thank ing you all the same, I'll have nobody's help out,'

Lumley's Pardner laid a broad hand on each of the pitifully drooping shoulders. ' Old man, when that fever had me down, I'd ha gone under if it hadn't been for you. And I'd rather ha' died than have taken what I did at your hands. Do not dare deny me this small return, now ? What's a paltry sum of money between you and me, and the * little mother waitin' at home P'

Lumley put down his head upon that, and cried like a baby ; the which, if it be not manly, I like him the better for. There are tears, I am thinking, that are far from disgracing even the eyes of a man.

' I'm ashamed of myself, through and through, for what's gone by,' were Lum ley's next words, 'but I can't give it up now. Matters can't be any worse, and there's a chance of bettering. Perhaps to night I shall win it all back.'

There were the old willfulness and pride, and the new fascination of the gaming-table. There was no turning him back, no moving him from that resolve.

Lumley's Pardner took him by the arm. ' Either way. I am bound to sco you through.' he said. ' Come.'

Ro night after night, as Lumley played, fhpre stood Lumley's Pardner looking on, with never a word of that little white let ter, his answering message, or the two passengers on board an ocean steamer bound for California.

Despite Lumley's hopefulness, luck never turned. It was the same feverish unrest and tedious waiting; the sense of degradation by day. and at night the brilliantly-lighted gamblmg-bell ; the ex citement, the fascination, trembling be twixt hope and uncertainty, the frequent potations to steady his shaking nerves, and as the night wore on. uncertainty deepen ing into failure and disappointment; and each morning Lumley's Pardner led him slowly and silently away, until time, wearing on. brought at last this appeal:

• For God's sake, old man, when will you let up ?'

So help me heaven, as soon as I get back two thousand dollars, I swear never to touch cards or dice again.' And Lumley was dead in earnest this time. Still, he would sccept nothing from his partner. The night the ' Ocean Belle' was sig nalled into port, Lumley's Pardner beckoned ' Monte Bill' aside (I reckon you have beard of Monte Bill, the best brace-dealer and short-card player west of the old Mississippi), and some secret understanding passed between them. J" In the • midst of a game, Lumley's Pardner left his post, which was some thing unusual, passing Monte Bill on his way to the door. It was not generally noticed, but as be passed he dropped a small compact package into the gambler's hand ; then, slouching his sombrero over his eyes, he left the hall. Pausing in the street. Lumley's Pardner looked anxiously down. It would have been dark but for the street-lamps, for it was full two hours to moonrise ; but down by the wharf shone out the gleam of a new signal-light, which, poised at mast head, glowered through the dark like the fiery eye of a gigantic Cyclops: the ' Ocean Belle' was in. Ten minutes later, pushing his way through the bustling crowd that thronged the deck, he hurried across the plank and made his way straight to the cabin.

The past seemed all a dream, as he stood again with wildly-beating heart before a once familiar form—familiar still, though bearing the maturer crown of motherhood. Her face was even fairer than of old, blushing with its own wild rose tints of loveliness, her soft eyes shining up in glad expectation. The broad sombrero, slouched over his fore head, shaded his features. She saw only bronzed cheeks and a strong brown beard. The tremor in his voice might have meant diffidence.

' Pardon me, madame, you are—l believe —that is to say—l am Lumley's Pardner.'

She held out a white hand cordially ' And my husband P'

' Is well

I am to take you to him.'

He took timidly the hand she extended, awkwardly, the little woman thought, and then let it go.'

' Give me the child.'

He took the sleeping boy in his arms, and so burdened, piloted the way to a carriage waiting close beside the wharf. Putting her inside, he laid the child gently, almost reverently upon her lap. * We're to drive round and take up Lumley. It is only a few minutes' ride.'

One last searching glance from under the protecting sombrero, and he closed the carriage-door, mounting to his place beside the driver.

Oddly enough, Lumley had just finished a winning game with Monte Bill when Lumley's Pardner came hurriedly in. As he slipped quietly back to his post, Lum ley sat eyeing the * pile'— twenty-five hundred dollars. He put out his hand to rake it up, paused, drew it back, picked up the cards, and began to shuffle for another stake; not that he had forgotten his oath, or the woman and child he loved; but a long way ahead of anything else was the thought that luck had turned—that he had only to follow it up to win back all the past. Lumley's Pardaer stooped to his ear:

' You'd better throw upst«gamt..' Tho

' little mother ' and your boy are waiting here, outside.'

Lumley started—half-rose to his feet, looked up into his partner's face, then at the cards, at the door, then wistfully back upon the cards and the gold. As, with a heavy sigh, he sunk into his seat again, Lumley's Pardner, dashing the cards from his hands, raked up the stakes and forced the money into Lumley's pocket. ' How long will you keep your wife and child waiting alone, at night, in a strange city before the door of a gambling-house P'

The thrust struck home. Like a man awakening from a dream, Lumley sprung up, crushed on his hat, and flew to the door.

Once in the little woman's arms, he was safe. Lumh-y's Pardner knew him well enough to be sure of that. He never followed him. but slipped out at the side door, and the next day saw him back in camp, a trifle pale, and sterner than was his wont, but the clear, gray eyes daunt lessly honest and brave. And I reckon, to this day, Lumley never knows how much he owes his old mate, or that his Lulie had one true lover, whom he once knew and appropriated to himself in the person of Lumley's Pard ner. —' Overland Monthly.'

Those Circus Bills.

AN AGED FEMALE ACEOBAT CONEUSES A

MODEST YOUNG MAN.

[From the Detroit Free Press.]

She had one in her hand as she came up-stairs, and she didn't cay a word un til after she had wiped her spectacles, placed them on her nose, unfolded the bill, and read a few of the head lines. She was old-fashioned in look. There were strings to her bonnet, she had no bustle, her grey hair was combed down smoothly, and there were only eleven yards in her black alpaca dress. 'Young man, don't you know that circuses are awful liars and humbugs ?' she finally inquired. The man at the table leaned back in his chair and refused to express an opinion. * ' Well, I know it,' she continued, in a positive tone ' and I believe they get wuss every day. Now see here— listen to this : ' A gorgeous panorama of amazing wonders—a gigantic combi nation of astonishing acrobatic talent.' That's all right on the poster, but he'v they got em ? l'd like to see one o'them animals.'

'"You're labouring under a mistake, madam. It means a grand display of natuial curiosities, and informs the public that the proprietor has secured many first-class acrobats—the chaps who stand on their heads, turn head over heels, and cut up so many monkey shines.'

'It does, eh ?'she muaed ; *w*al,do you believe it takes a smart person to keel over ?'

' Well, one has to have a good deal of training.'

'They do, eh?' she remarked, as she put her umdrella in the corner and spit on her bands ; ' I'll show you that you are deceived! I'm an old woman,,but if I can't —!'

' Madam, hold on —don't do it!' ex claimed the man behind the table.

' I can flop right over there and never shake my bonnet,' she said, as he rose up.

' I know you can madam, but don't. I am here alone, and I—l dont want you to. I'd rather you wouldn't. If you are determined on it, I shall leave the room!'

' Well, you know I can do it, and that's enough. You may be right about what that means, but ccc here—hear this : '1 he high-ways ablaze with resplendent chariots —the grandest pageant on earth.' I've bin to lots of circuses, young man, and I never saw a pageant yet. If they had one the door of his cage wasn't open.'

' You are also in error there. The bill refers to the fact that the great number of waggons, chariots, etc., make up a sight worth seeing as they pass along the street.' ' Um-m-m,' she muttered as she folded the bill over, ' I don't see why they couldn't have said so then. And now see here — read that: ' Sig. Govinoff, in his serial flights. Now, then, is that a boa constructor or a cundurango ?' ' It is a man, madam—one of the performers. His real name is pro bably Jones, but that isn't grand enough, and so they put him down as 'Sig. G-ovinoff.' He is the man who jumps on a rope, turns over twice, and comes down all right.' 'He is, eh ? Well, if he's got an idea that he's the smartest man alive I want to disappoint him. I never did try to turn over twice, but I'll do it right here and now or break my neck! Git the things offen that table!' 'Stay, madam—don't. I wouldn't have you do it tor fifty dollars.' ' Just once!' ' For heaven's sake, madam, get down offen this table—here —here's a dollar if you won't do it!' ' I don't want your money, and I won't try it if you're so scart, but I don't want no circus going round talk ing about aryal flights and deceiving the people!' l

She sat down, the young man wiped the sweat off his brow, and presently she remarked:

' And here's another thing, right here: ' A sparkling asterisk, flashing across the field of the cloth of gold— Mons. Gomerique in his great de lineations of human character.' I'd like to know who she is ?'

'■ Madam, that's a man—a man who delineates character.'

'How?' 'Why, he makes up faces —expresses mirth, soirow, joy and so forth.'

'Be docs, eh ? Well, what's that to blow about ? Make up faces—see here !'

And she shut her eyes, run her tongue out, and looked like the bottom of a brass ikettle which had been kicked in by a mule. 'They are humbugs, sir!' she said as she drew her tongue in, ' and d'ye 'spose I'd pay fifty cents to go to one?'

' They are quite entertaining as a general thing.' ' 'They are, eh? Entertaining, eh? Well, if I can't do more entertaining in five minutes than a circus can do all day I'll leave my bonnet up here! Here, hold on to this chair!'

'Madam, I earnestly hope you are not going to perform any tricks.' 'I hain't, eh ?—Tou just hold on to the legs of this chair !' ' I can't madam —I wouldn't do it for all the diamond pins in Go away, madam— go home! I'm in an awful hurry!'

' Well; I won't then, but when I say circuses are humbugs I can prove it. I don't keer two cents for their big words and their panoplies, pageants asterisks, giraffes, aryals, georgouses and ourang-outangs —I can beat em all holler myself!' And she took off her spectacles, lifted her umbrella, and went down stairs.

Leaves from an Expressman's Diary.

The following items were jotted down under the light of an expressman's eye at the foot of Victoria-street. The writer opens in this manner: —I am the pro prietor of an express that wants painting, and which shall be done as soon as more fares come in. 'Tis no use fretting about trifles, I bide my time, honestly wait my turn, don't over-charge my customers, am obedient to the city bye-laws and make my observations in my express on things in general. I dream over the past, and sometimes think of old faces. The old castle of Nottingham, with its grim stone walls, is often before me ; and the silver Trent, and Wilford church-yard, and all those unforgotten associations of the days when Henry was a boy, and went a fishing under the willows there. Well, never mind, trade is stagnant, racing is dull, Doran has won the ' favourite'; don't care, wish him good luck. By Jove, I've got a stiff neck and want a comforter ; all owing to the removal of the market re serve ; alas, the buildings are gone, and the site of the gallows, and the pumpkin bed is covered with weeds, speaking of the round world to John, and the people that dwelt therein, he quaintly replied, 'Ah Henry, a great deal can be said on both sides P* On hearing that a fellow express man expected the bailiff in his house, I could not help saying to Hughes—' Ah mate, expressmen are surrounded by other fears than the atmosphere.' John spoke of a sermon he heard and uttered some grave sentiment thereon. ' It's all very well, John,' said I, 'but grave sentiments are only fit for tombstones, and not for ex pressmen like you and me.' ' You are right,' said Ramsey, and I jotted the re mark down in my diary. I was looking into Mr. Shortt's shop yesterday, and muttered to myself, ' Harry my boy, barbers are not only close shavers, but like bad land, they make short crops.' ' Good,' said Doran. Seeing a baker kneading his dough, I said, ' Bakers are better off than expressmen, they get bread when they knead.' My next door neigh bour has been hunted by a ' dun' then said I, 'Verily our creditors are our most faithful followers.' Bamsey said the sentiment was worthy of Tupper, but I don't know Tupper, he may be a leading expressman for aught I know. ' He is a very great writer of proverbs,' said Ramsey: ' Ah,' said I, ' then down goes the thought in my diary.' On seeing Mr. Holdship the other day, I said to Bill. ' That man must be a good card player !' ' How is that ? asked Bill. ' Because he is so accustomed to deal,' said I. At this the expressmen laughed, and declared that I had made a pun. I duly noted the fact. A half-drunken sailor came staggering up to me to-day, aud said, ' Harry aint you from Notting ham P' 'I am,' said I,' and where dp you come from ?' ' Don't know,' said he, 'but I know there is a man in the moon.' ' How so,' said I. He replied with a laugh, ' Because I've been to sea !' On seeing a Good Templar ki3s his sweetheart on parting from her outside the Albert-street Temperance Hall, I was convinced of one natural fact not to be found in Darwin's ' Origin of Species,' namely, woman is of mankind, for verily man entraces woman. Expressmen are usually good tempered; if they fall down they invariably get up again. An insolvent expressman is as great a wonder as a dead donkey. These are a few of my observations, Mr. Editor, and if your readers don't appreciate the cream of my diary, all I say is, they have, been accustomed only to milk and water, supplied by one of those precious milk men who were fined the other day, and they are incapable of recognizing' the genuine article of Habby, thb Expeessman.

Morning.

BY WILLIAM BELL SCOTT.

Last night—it must have been a ghost at beat — I did believe the lost one's slumbering head Filled the white hollows of the curtainedbed, And happily sank again to sound sweet rest, As in times past, with sleep my nightly guest, A guest that left me only when the day ■ Showed me a fairer than Euphroßyae— Day that now shows me but the unfilled neat.

0 Night! Thou werfc our mother at the firat, Thy silent chambers are our homes at last ; And even now thou art our bath of life. Come back ! the hot sun makes our lips athirst; Come bask ! thy dreams may recreate the past; Come back 1 and smooth again this heart's long strife.

Stems of Irish News.

(To the Editor of the Evening Star.) Sir,—For the information of the numerous Irish'readers of your independent and well conducted journal, I respectfully trust that you wiil afford a brief space in your columns for the following extracts of Irish local intelligence to hand by the last "Frisco Mail.'—l feel confident Sir, that the items detailed under tbe above heading, as would appear from time to time in the Star, say in your Saturday evening's instructive and interesting supplement, would indeed greatly interest many of your readers—Not that 1 imagine any more copies of your paper would be sold than at present; No Sir, for I am well aware that each evening's issue is quickly and eagerly taken up, more especially since the appearance of your supplement on Saturday evenings, bir ; the idea of having a summary of Irish news extracted from the home papers, by each mail, and published in the Evening Stae, has occupied the atten tion of many of the Star readers, especially those residing in the suburbs and out-districts of the city ; so that, as I regularly receive monthly hies, I feel great pleasure in eubmit tiDg this, my first attempt, and trust, subject to your kind approval, for the publication of the long talked of undertaking, which no doubt will merit the sincere thanks of your readers.

I remain, Sir, Yours Respectfully, Auckland 19th August. T. J. F.

IRISH ITEMS FROM Ist TO 26th

JUJNE, 1875. An influential meeting was held in Belfast, and resolutions in favour-of Sunday closing were passed.—The Tullamore Guardians granted two and six-pence per week as an out-door relief to a woman 103 years old, and who is in possession of all her faculties, and able to walk about.—The Church of England population of Kerry is but 5,562, and the Roman Catholic as high as 187,917, yet the public and general appointments stand in the proportion of 40 Protestants to 10 Catholics !—The Most Rev. Dr. Dorrian, R. C. Bishop of Down and Connor, confirmed over 100 children in his diocese on Sunday, Ist June. —A shoemaker named George Green, a cripple of Belfast, struck his wife with Jhia crutch in the temple, Bhe was near her confinement and died. the following day. She stated before her death that it was her husband who had inflicted the wound. They had been drinking, and a dispute arose between them.—The members of the Limer ick Oddfellows, and Foresters Societies, have agreed to Bend deputations to the O'Connell Centenary with their banners. (Where was Auckland on that day ?). —The very Rev. Father Fox, P.P., of Drysert, Westmeath, united in the holy bonds of matrimony, Mr. Christopher Manney, aged 87 years, to Mrs. Nally of the age of 80 years. The old chap had been four times, and the old dame three times married previously. (Old maids of Auckland not too late yet).—A novel scene was witneseed on the custom-house steps, Dublin, on Sunday evening, to wit, three men trying to expound the Scriptures, compaung the Douay with the 'authorised' version, and trying to ' convert' any benighted sin ner that cared to present himself. The preachers bad for an audience one hundred persona thus made up * Female choristers from the meeting-house (spectacled), 11 ; bare-legged children, 32 ; coal porters (laugh ing, )33 ; respectable men who suppressed laughter (with difficulty), 8; detectives 14. There were two or three attempts made by many members of the audience to enter into controversy with them, to test the faith that was in them, but were immediately sup pressed.—During the months of May and June, last, upwards of £2000 were subscribed towards the Butt testimonial; and in one week in June over £1,700 for the O'Connell Centenary (Noble and generous Ireland). —Mrs. Eiiza Cluskey died at No. 3, Chatham street, Dnbliu, suddenly, Ist June, aged 58 years ; also Maggy her daughter on the same date, aged 28 years. R.l.P.—The Grand Orange Lodge of Ireland, at Newry, passed a resolution in favour of Sunday closing;— The Rev. Canon Daunt, of Dublin, has accepted the Protestant Deanery of Cork.—Mr. Patrick Mc'Cann, a true nationalist to heart's core, died at his residence, BalJinrobe, on the 28th May last, there was no better man living.— 3000 members of the confraternity of the Holy Family, wearing medals and other religious emblems, inarched in proeea sion on Sunday, 6th June, through the City of Cork. They were addressed in the cathe dral by the Bishop.—His Lordship Bishop Moriarty, of Kerry, administered the sacra ment ot confirmation to 496 persons in his native parish of Lixnau on the 6th June, and on the following day at Irremore to 200 persons.—The Loyal Banks of the Shannon lodge of Oddfellows, agreed to Bend s, depu tation to the O'Connell Centenary.—A fine strong donkey belonging to a poor man in Mullingar found its way pnthe Bth of June to a fine cabbage garden, where two fine hives of bees were kept, and in his eagerness for greens, so annoyed the bee-hive population, that they turned out in droves, and stung him so terribly, that the poor animal after great suffering about the nose, eyes and ears, expired in a few hours. (What an ass he must have been). —At the Galway (my native city) petty sessions, before E. C. Burke, a shaky-looking scotty, who gave the name of David Patterson, was charged with being a vagrant. Constable F. deposed that he found the prisoner walking the streets, and arrested him as he had no visible means of support. Mr. Burke—What is he? Constable—A discharged seldier, and served 10 years, and by bis own statement was arrested iv Mullin gar, and got three months imprisonment. Head Constable S. —He saya he won't take one month (laughter). Mr. Burke—Well then the sentence is that he be imprisoned for one month. Davey— I won't take one month (laughter). Mr. B.— well, you won't get more (laughter).—On the 25th May, last, Mrs, Johanna Fitzgerald, widow, died at Goulaue, near Dingle, at the age of 97. Her children, grandchildren, and great-grand children, are comfortably situated and well to-do farmers and farmers wives. A son of hers, Maurice Fitzgerald, lives in the neighbourhood, to whom hia mother lately paid a visit. On going to her own house, her daughter (a Mrs. Walsh), her grandaughter (a Mrs. Mahony) her great-granddaughter (a Mrs. Flaherty), and a daughter of Mra. Flaherty, accompanied her, so that a mem ber of five successive generations, including the old lady herself, travelled in the same car. On the same day she travelled on foot through the steep Connor-hill Road the most of the way home. She was in possession of all her mental faculties. —At Kilkenny on the Ist June William O'Connor who served iv th-j icc^nd b-itt. 95th Regiment at the famous Battle of Waterloo, passed away after much suffering, which he bore with Christian fortitude, and even cheerfully and peacefully, at the age of 87 years.— Another nationalist Michael O'Carroll, of Bar risoleigh, Tiperary, died on Saturday morning, the 12 th June. He took a leading part in the politics of the country for a long-time.— On the 16th May, last, Daniel O'Leary, the Irish-American yedestriao commenced walk ing 500 miles in 156 hours at Chicago. He started at 4*30 p.m.' and made his first 50 miles in 8 hours, 56 seconds, completing the whole at 1-32 50 o'clock on the morning of the 23rd, in 2 hours, 28 minutes and 10 seconds less than the allotted time. Showed

signs of fatigue, but in no way exhausted. He received various presents from ntuneiqM .^ friend?, including a purEe of 1000 dollars.' During the walk, he made one mile in .£..? minutes 28 seconds, and 200 mileß in lees than 50 hours. - The collection of Peter's pence for this year in the Arch-Diocese of Cambria, France has already reached tho tidy sum of 200,000 francs (a franc is 10d.).-;. The leading grocers and spirit dealers of the town of Mavan, in order to meet the wishes^ of their good Bishop, the Meat Rev. Dr. Nulty, resolved to sell no intoxicating drink on a Sunday, or to be consumed oh the premises ; and farther, never to sell drink to I persons having any sign of intoxication. (This needs no comment, how would that go inr this city).—Mr. William Farrell has been elected chairman of the Naas Town Board for the ensuing year ; Mr. Robert Leggeto ' that of the Town Board of Longford.—Mr. Hyneshas been unanimously re-elected chair-, man of the Roscommon Town Board.— At the Kilkenney Quarter Sessions, there were •. only four cases for hearing.—The death of the Rev. Father Reynolds, of Claremorris, is announced. —Captain O Hara, J.P. has been elected chairman of the Town Board for Gal way, and also chairman of the Harbour Board. —An old man. named PatrickJjf McMffe, died at Longford, at the age of 1027 ---years. He was a tinker by trade, and wag ; only ill one hour.—-A labourer named Michael Connell, while engaged discharging corn in a vat at Mr. Walker's distillery, ; Limerick, fell in and was suffocated.—. , Assistant Quarter-Master Oakley, of the 7th ; Dragoon Guards, while suffering from mental' 1 depression of spirits, locked himself in. »:; Store-room, sat on a chair, and with his •■,] rifle blew the top off his head.—A great | fire in Dublin, the whiskey store of Mr." Laurence Malone in Chamber-street. ■ Dozenß of houses in flames. Over 3000 puncheons of whiskey equal to 45,000 gallons waßted, all of great strength and much over-proof.. ';_; Some deaths are recorded owing to excessive .... use of the liquor, and many others, which*.; were not made known to the Police.—ln the month of June last, Colonel O'Connor, <jf the 23rd Welsh Fusikera, was presented, when' visiting his native town, Boy^, in Roicom mon, with a magnificent silver cup in acniira tion of his brilliant millitary career at llia^, Inkermann, Sevastopol, Redan, the Qttarrieg^ ' Lucknow, Cawnpore, Gold-Coast, &c. Swill ' be remembered that Colonel O'Connor was Colour Sergeant in the 30th regiment) and' received her Majesty's commission in' Se ptember, 1854, for distinguished and galant, conduct. He was severely wounded at the Battle of Alma, and dangerously wourded in the attack on the Quarries, 18th June. The gallant Colonel is in possession of the Vic toria Cross," Sardinian Medal, Turkish A'edal, the sth class of the Medjidi, Crimean ledal' with three clasps, and the Indian Medajwith two clasps.—On the Bth and 9th Juni, the m clergy and laity of the Province of Con naught and many from all parts of Ireand, assembled in great numbers in the littleiown ~ t of luam, to celebrate the 50fch anniversary of ' the consecration of the great Archbisljp of the West, John of Tuan. Everything pisseti' • off in a manner that realised the mosfesan-; ~■ guine expectations. At 11 o'clock a sfamn high mass, when no less than 6000 pople were in and outside the magnificent cathdraL ' Addresses were presented from the Irish' •'" Home Rule members, when A. M. Sulliran, i, ! the gifted and eloquent editor of the Na_m f! > made a splendid Bpeech, and was replid io,',.\ by the illustrious Archbishop. The lost' Rev Bishop Ivulty, of Meath, also deliveed W an eloquent speech. His Grace Archbislpp !;• McHale was born on Sunday morning, he 6th March, 1791, near the hill of Nephinip r -... the Co. Mayo. He was the sth child of m__m parents, Patrick McHale and Mary Mutheaj; ? in his 16th year he entered Maynooth Ql- ■ lege, and was ordained a priest in 183.,,; Shortly afterwards, on the stb June, 18SJ,'. was consecrated Co ad jut or Bishop to te'.[.' late Bishop Waldron, of Killala, then Oayl A'\ in his 34th year, thus wearing the mitre 9 '< years on the date of his jubilee, and in hi > f 84th year, being the oldest- Bishop in th :;/ whole world at present, (what a granj . assemblage did the aged prelate behold oi that day, Sir, where there were assemble*^' | some of the noblest and fair-minded member^.; outside his communion, to do honour to the,:: great day, for truly it was a grand Jubilees ||

Romantic Notions as to the Weight of Women.

In romance we read of heroes rushing' off with fainting maidens from blazing? 0 houses, or ' carrying ' them off on their y shoulders for purposes of revengeful ab- | duction. Let any one out of training, or t& under six feet high, and proportionate > strength, attempt to run away with■;a : | fairly well-composed girl of eighteen or | twenty, and give us his opinion of these vaunted knights. A woman weighing J«£ hundred and forty pounds weight of kick-' S ing womanhood is not to be carried at all. V EyeD a slight girl will weigh one hundredI'-if' pounds, and ' our hero' will stagger under; 3 j her lovely but encumbersome :figvre;.f;j There are plenty of buxom girls wKp..;; weigh up to a hundred and seventy pounds,- ...> and it is not given to every man to ' huriy". off with such baggage.' Where; the vie* ' timised one faints on the stage, the robust tenor takes care that the fainting shall be< acomplished as close to the wing as pos- \ sible. He knows what she weighs byrsad .' experience of rehearsals. Let any ofbur | readers carry his sister up three flights of ' stairs without stopping, and forward tons his sentiments on the occasion. [At.. Vienna we saw a little tenor struggling to'"" carry off a fat soprano to the amusement of the house, while she- made stentorian mirth by turning round, whipping up the. -k tenor, and making her exit with him kick ing under her arm. —' Court Journal.''■"

Conundrums.

"W hat is a volunteer's definition of a, \ % kiss ? —A report at head quarters.

When is a Good Templar like the poet's ~ favorite flower?— When he is a little - a dazey, . ..",.,■;.. ; ;:. ■■ >. a rs ' What is the difference between fog oyster and a chicken?— One is fresh■fibni' w the shell and the other isn't. , , > In what respect does the I)rum and Fife Band resemble the springJt£f-J3ecause. ; ;f its members bud forth in blue; .like,th« violet with'white facings like'tlia lilies- r Why is St Paul's church likei-a trades-;: man over head and ears in debt P —Because he needs white-washing.,: . .- What is the difference between the hell and the organ of St. Matthew's church P-ff- The bell goes when it is 'tolled' and tfiß/i organ will be ' Mowed' first. ] Why are many Auckland young men like new-laid eggs ?—Because they'are-;' too full of themselves to hold, anything ; else. Why do people marry mostly in winter time P—Because the ladies want mufts.| and the lads want comforters. . f Why is the Young Men's Christian Association a paradox P-^^ca^e ;i*S') members are aged and grey.

SUPPLEMENT TO THE AUCKLAND EVENING STAB,