Hiss Burke, MY CURIOUS COMPANION.

"* Wanted, by a young married lady, a companion to reside with her during her husband's absence in India. A liberal salary will be given, with every home comfort, to any one suitable. Apply per sonally, if possible, at .No. 240, TTpper Berkeley-street, W.' The foregoing advertisement was dis patched by me after considerable cogita tion, and I awaited the results of it with SODae anxiety.

My .husband, Major Conyers, had been suddenly ordered to India ; and having no sister or any available cousin whom I could invite to stay with me during his absence, I thought a companion was the best thing with which I could provide my self; accordingly, I indited my small paragraph, which I had the satisfaction of seeing placed in a very conspicuous part of the paper on the morning after I sent it. I lived in London, consequently felt certain that the personal interview would be easily managed ; but I had committed an error in not naming a particular hour, as, from eleven in the forenoon until quite late in the day the applications for a per sonal interview with my unfortunate self never ceased. The first arrival was a very handsomely dressed lady of about fifty, who came, evidently, quite prepared to enter upon her duties at once, and quite overpowered me with a series of questions and statements, without giving me the faintest chance of making inquiries myself. She had lived with Lady This and the Honorable Mrs. That, and one and all had treated her like a sister—she felt certain I should do the same —indeed, she quite knew me already. Home comforts were exactly what she cared for; as to salary, it was no object to her—a hundred a year "was all she asked, though dear Lady Golding had said she was never to take leas than two.

* I am afraid,' I put in at this juncture, * that even one hundred is beyond what i intend to give, and I live so quietly' 'We won't quarrel about salary,' in terrupted my would-be companion ; • and as to quietness, it is just what I want.1 A peal at the door-bell emboldened me to still greater determination, so I replied very resolutely for me : ' I do not think we should suit; lam sorry you have had the trouble of coming.'

'So am I,' she rejoined dryly; ' but one ought not to trust to advertisments.' Hardly noticing my ' good morning.' she got up and flounced down-stairs, evi dently in great wrath at her rejection. • Another lady to see you, ma'am/ and Bounced my parlour maid. A very quiet, sweet-looking little per son came forward, and at the first glance I fancied I had found a suitable com panion But alas! her story was a pad one, and there were reasons which ren dered it impossible for me to avail myself of her society. She was married. Her husband was a hopeless invalid, and they were very poor. She had not been edu cated highly enough to be a governess, and when she saw my advertisement, she fancied, if the salary was good, she might be my companion by day, and return at night to her own home, which was at no great distance from my bouse. She looked so thin and so ill that I was almost temp ted to make some arrangement with her, but as I intended leaving town occasion ally, second thoughts showed me it was out of the question, Besides, I could not have borne to think that while she was with me, she would always be in agony to be with her husband —which, had I engaged her, would most naturally haye followed. I told her so as kindly as possible, and after making her take a glass of wine and some cake—which latter I saw her furtively convey to her pocket. for her husband, 1 supposed —she gave me her direction and took her departure. I afterwards went to see her, and her tale was sadly verified. But to proceed. My next visitor was a most pert damsel, without any pretensions to being a lady, •who informed me that her pa was dead, and as there were so many of them at home, her ma wanted her to do for herself. I had not-much difficulty in dismissing her. And of the legions that followed, I cannot attempt a detailed description. JBy the afternoon I was thoroughly exhausted, and had made up my mind to see no more, when, just as it was getting dusk, my servant came up to the drawing room and informed me that such a nice looking young lady was in the dining-room quite the nicest that had been yet. 'Ask her to come up-stairs, then, Ellis ; but do Dot admit anyone else,' I replied; and the next instant the drawing-room door was thrown open by Ellis, and * Miss Burke ' announced. • She was dressed in mourning, and, even in the dim light, was, I could see, a pale faced, rather handsome girl of apparently about four-and-twenty. Her height was over average, but seemed greater from her extreme thinness, which struck me as almost startling. > • Good evening,' she said in a low and pleasant voice. 'I am afraid lam very late; it was so kind of you to see me.' ■It is late,' I assented, • but that does not matter,' eT 1 Thank yOu,' responded my visitor. 1 came about your advertisement—l saw you wanted a companion, and I am anxious to get a situation ot that • I'have had so many applications to-day' I answered, for want of something better • Ah! I can quite fancy it,' returned Miss Burke. ' I fear lam too late.' ' No,' I replied ; .' I have seen no one yet to suit me.' ~ , • If you would only try me, 1 should do my utmost to please you,' she said almost pleadingly. ' I have been a companion, and I can give you references which may induce you to think of me,' and Miss Burke opened a small velvet bag, which, until then, I had not perceived, and placed in my hands a monogramed and coronetted letter, addressed to herself,pur porting to come from a Lady Montacute, whose companion she had been for two years, and who expressed herself in the warmest terms, assuring Miss Burke whenever she returned from the continent, whither she was just then going, that it would give her the greatest pleasure to answer any inquirers in her favour; in the meantime, Lady Montacute authorised her to make what use she chose ot the letter now sent,.ending by saying she was cef W wherever she went, Miss Burke

Then followed a letter from a !Rev. ]y£ . "White, from a remote rectory mOu mlji . r .' land, stating that he had known Miss Emily Burke from her childhood anc j could certify that she was not only desir able in all respects, but the most amiable and talented young lady, whose family were both well known and highly respec ted. Nothing could be more satisfactory and after reading the two missives care fully by ihe lifcht of the fire, I raised my eyes toward my visitor, whom I found r3 garding me in the most eager manner imaginable.

' They are most kind letters,' I said; ' and as far as references go, I am sure I could not do better. Your duties would be very light—it is really only for the sake of companionship that I require any one, as I do everything for myself, but I have been very lonely since my husband went away.'

' I can imagine it,' responded Miss Burke, sympathisingly. 'I should do my utmost to cheer you.'

' You are very kind to say so,' I an swered. ' Should we agree as to terms, when could you come ?'

' To-morrow, if you will permit me,' replied Miss Burke, ' I am in lodgings, and the expense of them is so great, that I should only be too glad to give them up —I am very poor,' she added in a low tone.

I was sorry for the poor girl; and feel ing I had been as prudent as possible in perusing her references, and trusting a good deal to her air of quiet respectability, I 1 proceeded to state my terms, which were eagerly accepted. After a little conversation, all was settled, and my companion promised to make her appear ance before luncheon on the following day. For the rest of that evening 1 was unusually meditative; I was pleased, and yet not pleased. She was not altogether my beau-ideal of a companion. Although ladylike, and with undeniable references, there was a certain awkwardness in her

manner

Her room was to be on the same floor with my own ; and on the following morn ing I went in a short time before she arrived, to see that everything was ready for her. It was October, and the weather was chilly, so I desired that she should have a fire, as I fancied, coming from wretched lodgings, it might be a sort of welcome to her. At 1 o'clock she arrived, bringing with her a small black box as her sole luggage, which Ellis and the housemaid, between them, carried directly to her room, whither she followed them almost immediately, to take off her things. I accompanied her, and remained for a few minntes, telling her to join me in the drawing-room as soon as she could, lunch being ready.

She presently appeared, very much altered by the removal of her bonnet. She wore her hair in a crop fashion I detested; a rid her figure, without her cloak was only redeemed from awkward ness by the well-made black dress, which had evidently been the work of a first rate '• modiste.' She wore no ornaments, except a plain gold ring on the little finger of the left hand, which I noticed was particularly large. I ceased to criticise her after we had been together for a little. She was so pleasant, so chatty, and yet so quiet withal, that ere evening came I had begun to congratulate myself on my own perspicacity in having engaged her, and was fully prepared to endorse Lady Montacute's opinion, that she was sure to be not only a favourite but an acquisition.

A fortnight slipped away, and in my weekly budget to my husband 1 gave most charming accounts ef my companion, which our every-day intercourse seemed fully to confirm. But about the third week, a something I could not explain made me take a dislike to her. 1 had not been very well, and her kindness had been unremitting ; consequently. I felt almost angry with myself for indulging in a feeling which I could not help acknow ledging was both unreasonable andchildish.

But it gained ground in spite of myself; and one night as I was standing by the looking-glass in my bedroom, whicji was in the shadow, I caught sight of Miss Burke, who was leaning on the mantlepiecp in the full light of the gas, which burned on either side of it, regarding me with a stealthy and searching glance, which I instantly observed, but had sufficient sense to take no notice of. The expression in her large black eyes haunted me for days, and caused me to say good night to her on. the landing, and in additipn, to lock my door, a precaution I had never before thought of taking.

One night shortly afterwards I awoke, fancying I heard a movement outside my door. My room was perfectly dark, and I was convinced some noise had suddenly awakened me. I listened intently, almost too terified to breathe, until I heard most distinctly the handle of my door cautiously turned. An almost death like horror seized me, and for an instant I was absolutely rigid with terror ; 'but the spell was broken by another audible effort to open the door, and the hall clock strik ing three, which made me spring up in bed, seize the matches, and, with trembl ing fingers, attempt two or three times to strike a light. At last I was successful, and the welcome blaze of the gas which I lit gave me courage to call out boldly: 'Who 13 there?' But no answer came I pulled my bell vigorously, and in a few minutes I heard steps approaching, and Ellis's welcome voice asked if I was ill.

• No, Ellis, not ill,' I said,' but terrified,' as I unlocked the door and admitted her. ' Some one tried my door not five minutes ago.' • Tried your door, ma'am ? surely not!' ejaculated Ellis. • Yes, Ellis ; I am certain of it, and it has given me such a shock. I cannot be left alone again.' ' What is the matter, dearest Mrs. ConyefsP' exclaimed Miss Burke, who appeared in my room just as I had made the Jast remark to Ellis. ' I have been frightened,' I answered i ' but do not disturb yourself, Miss Burke ; it was probably .nothing.' ; ' It could not have been anything, or I must have heard it,' she said, half to me and half to Ellis. 'Pray do not trouble yourself, Ires ponded ; 'lam only sorry you got up at all.' She staid for a few minutes, but Retting no encouragement to remain, returned to her own room, assuring me if she heard a sound she would be with me in a moment. The instant she was safely gone, I hnrntA to Ellis, desiring her in the first

place to close and lock the door; and in the second, to prepare to remain with me until the morning ; for I was so unhinged by the circumstance, trifling though it was, that to be left to myself was out of the question.

Ellis had been with me ever since my marriage, now three years, and had been well known to my husband's family all her life, consequently. I felt I might trust her, so I said, ' Ellis, I have my own suspicions ; but we must do nothing until we are sure. Meanwhile, you must have a bed made up in this room and we must watch'

' Miss Burke ?' whispered Ellis. "' Yes,' I replied, ' It was she who tried my door.' • Well, ma'am,' confided Ellis, ' I have been downright afraid of her this some time back—civil spoken though she is. But what could she want at your door P'

1 That I do not know ; but we may find out.'

By dint of a blanket off my bed. and sundry shaarls, Ellis was made comfort able for the rest of the night on the sofa, and I returned to bed. not to sleep, for I was thoroughly upset, but to lie and wonder how I was ever to get through the ten months that still remained of my husband's absence.

Tired and unnerved, I met Miss Burke at breakfast, and we spent our morning in a very silent fashion. I wrote to my husband whilst she walked restlessly about the drawing room, constantly asking me how I was, an inquiry for which I did not feel so grateful as 1 might have done under other circumstances. Lunch came, and afterwards Miss Burke, who was usually most unwilling to go out, asked me if I could spare her for the afternoon, as she wanted to go to see a sick friend.

' Certainly,' I replied, glad to get rid of her. About four o'clock I lay down on the sofa in the inner drawing-room, and must have fallen asleep, for I heard no one come into the room, but I awoke with the consciousness (hat some one was lean ing over me with th-ir face in close prox imity to my own. I felt rather than saw them ; so close were they to me that their lips seemed almost touching my own, and as I sprang up I came into violent col lision with—my companion. ' Miss Burke!'l exclaimed, indignantly, but I could say nothing more, for after all, the crime of leaning over me was not of a deadly nature, though coupling it, as I instantly did, with my previous suspicions, I felt not only extremely angry, but con siderably alarmed.

'I was afraid you were ill, dear Mrs. Conyers. Ido hope I have not displeased you.' she proceeded in a deprecating tone. ' I did not mean to offend you.'

' It is of no consequence,' I answered, rising from the sofa ; ' but. please do not do so again. lam nervous and easily startled.'

The circumstance was then tacitly dis missed, and we got through the evening pretty fairly. I rather looked forward to a safe night for I knew Ellis's bed was in readiness for her. I said good night a little earlier than usual to Miss Burke, but did not inform her that I had indited an epistle to her friend, the Rev. Mr. White to ask for further particulars con cerning her antecedents.

I heard her come up to her room, and when her door closed a feeling of com passion came over me for I fancied I had unjustly suspected her, and been very cold in my manner, which she had evidently felt. Ellis came after I was in bed, and in a short time I had oral evidence that she was slumbering. It made me feel secure at all events though I was certain I should dream of all kinds of unearthly things if the snoring- went on all night. Nothing happened to alarm us, and next morning, in a subdued and anxious voice, Miss Burke hoped that I had not been disturbed, and that Ellis had kept me from feeling nervous —this last remark very reproachfully. About twelve o'clock, when we were sitting in the drawing-room, Ellis came up and told me that a gentleman wanted to see me on business, but would not give his name. • Probably about some sub scription,' I observed ; ' perhaps I had betr ter see what he wants.' Without a suspicion of what awaited me, I went down-stairs, and on entering the dining-room encountered a short and rather red-faced man, who, bowing pro foundly, asked if I was Mrs. Conyers. On my replying in the affirmative, he continued : ' May I ask what establish ment you have ?' I must have looked astonished, as he explained : I 1 am a detective police officer, madam, and my business here will, I am afraid, be an unpleasant one.'. .' Indeed !' I ejaculated ; ' in what way P* 1 From information I have received, I believe you have a person under your roof who is wanted on a serious charge. I must ask your permission to summon every one in the house into this room. I have taken precautions to prevent any one leaving it, and if you will kindly accede to my request, I shall s?et over a painful duty as quickly as possible." If my lips had been capable of utterance, the words they would have framed would have been' Miss Burke,' but I said nothing.. I merely rang the bell, which Ellis answered so promptly. I felt certain that she must have been behind the door, ready to protect me, in case of an emergency. ' Summon my servants, Ellis,' I said; ' and, and ask Miss Burke to come down stairs.' It was almost like a dream to me, seaing my four domestics walk in; and then, suspecting nothing—came Miss

Burke

' Got you at last, sir !' cried the detec- | tive, making an agile dart towards my companion. ' Not without some trouble,' coolly res ponded his prisoner, whose courage was apparently quite equal to the occasion. In my wildest moments I had never dreamed of so desperate a denouement, and the dis covery perfectly paralyzed me with horror. It was too dreadful to realize that I had harbored a wretch of a man in woman's clothing not only in my house, but in the capacity of my companion. In less time than I can describe it, the detective and bis prisoner had departed ; it was quietly !and quickly managed; and though a de tailed account of it did appear in the pa pers, my name was, happily for me, not allowed to transpire. The pseudo Miss Burke turned out to be a notorious young man, or I may say lad, of the name of Browning, who, having embezzled large sums, as well as stolen a quantity of magnificent jewelry, had been

unable, owing to the precautions taken to prevent his doing so, to leave London, or to dispose of his stolen property. Through the agency of a female friend, he had adopted his disguise and my unlucky advertisement had suggested to him the idea of injuring his own safety, should I be credulous enough to take himtipon the recommendations, which, I need hardly say, had emanated from his own pen. Not only had he thought of his personal security, but that of the stolen goods, which in the shape of diamonds and bank-notes were found securely stowed away in the little black box, which I had thought contained the worldly possessions of my poverty-stricken companion. He was tried, convicted, and sentenced to penal servitude for fourteen years. My husband's return was hastened by the illness which the dreadful affair caused me. Since then, he and I have never been separated. However, should I ever be unavoidably left alone again, my past experience has decided me on one point— never to advertise, or to trust to written references, or the result may be—A Curious Companion.—Chamber's Journal.

The Blue Handkerchief.

About the end of October, last year, I was returning on foot from Orleans to the Chateau de Bardy. A regi ment of the foreign guard was march ing abreast of me on the same road. I had hastened my steps to hear the military music, which I liked so much ; but the band ceased playing; a few taps of the drum from afar off alone marked the measured steps of the soldiers.

After a half-hour's march I saw the regiment enter a small field surrounded by a ciump of fir-trees. I asked a captain, whom I knew, if they were about to eAercise.

' N"o,' said he to me, 'they are about to judge and probably shoot a soldier of my company for having robbed the man with whom he was quartered.'

' What!' said I. 'to judge, condemn and execute at once ?'

' Yes,' said he, ' it is according to our articles of capitulation.' For him this was unanswerable, as though all had been provided for in the capitulation — the crime, the punishment, the justice and even the humanity. 'Besides, if you ire curious,' added the Captain, ' I will get you a place, it won't take long.' 1 had always a passion for these sad spectacles, and I imagined I could learn what death was by the face of the dying. I followed the Captain. The regiment was formed in a hollow square; behind the rear rank, and on the edge of the wood, some soldiers were digging a grave. They were commanded by a first lieutenant, for everything in a regiment is done with order, and there is a certain discipline in digging a man's grave. In the centre of the square eight officers were sitting on drum-heads, the ninth, on the right and more for ward, was writing a few words upon his knees, but carelessly, a*>d only that a man should not be killed without some formalities.

The accused was called. He was a tall young man, of a noble and honest face. A woman advanced with him, the only witness who was to testify in ihe case, but when the Colonel was about to interrogate this woman: 'It's useless,' said the soldier, 'I will confess all. I stole the handker chief from thia woman's house.'

The Colonel. —' You Pierre! you were always an honest fellow.' Pierre.—" It is true, my Colonel. I have always tried to satisfy my officers ; and it was not for myself that I stole ifc__>twas for Marie.'

The Colonel. —'

•' Who is this Marie.'

Pierre. —' 'Tis Marie who lives yon der in my village near Arenburg, where the great apple-tree is. 1 Bhall never see her more.'

The Colonel —' I do not understand you, Pierre ; explain yourself.' Pierre. —' Well, my Colonel, read this.'

And he handed to him the following letter, every word of which is present to my memory: My Good ITbiend Pieeee : I profit by the recruit Arnold, who is engaged in your regiment to send you this letter and a silk purse which I have made for you. I was obliged to hide myself from my father while I made it, for he continually scolds me for loving you so much, and says that you will not come back. You will come back, won't you ? But if you never return I shall love you all the same. I promised myself to you the day you picked up my blue handkerchief at the dance in Arenburg, and brought it back to me. When shall I see you again? What makes me happy is, that they say you are esteemed by your superiors and beloved by your comrades. But you have still two, years of service. Get through them/quick, for then we will be married. Adieu, my good friend Pierre. Your dear Maeie.

P.S. —Try to send me something from France, not that I am afraid that I shall forget you; but that I may wear it always, Kiss what you send me. lam sure that I shall find the place of your kiss again. : When the letter was read Pierre resumed. 'Arnold,' said he, ' gave me this letter last night when my billet of quarters was received. All night I could not sleep. I thought of the village and of Marie, the asked me for something from France. I had no money ; I had pledged my pay for three months for my brother and my cousin, who had returned home a few days before. This morning when I arose to leave, I opened the window. a. blue handkerchief was hanging on a line ; it resembled that of Marie's, it was the same color, the same white stripes. I was weak enough to take it and put it*in |my£sack. Ijwent down the street; I repented of what I had

done, and was about returning to the house when this woman ran after me. The handkerchief was found upon me, that is the truth. The capitulation demands that Ibe shot. Shoot me, but do not despise me. The judges could not restrain their emotion —but, notwithstanding, when the vote was taken, he was unanimously condem ned to death. He heard the verdict I with composure; then, approaching his Captain, he begged him to lend him four francs. The Captain gave them to him. I saw then he ad vanced toward the woman, to whom the blue handkerchief had been re stored, and I heard these words: ' Madame, here are four francs. 1 don't know if your handkerchief is worth any more, but even should it be, I pay dear enough for it, and you ought to excuse me for the difference.' Then taking the handkerchief he kissed it and gave it to the Captain. 'My Captain,' said he^ 'in two years you will return to our mountains ; if you go near A renburg, ask for Marie, give her this blue handkerchief, but do not tell her how I bought it.' He then knelt in prayer, and marched with a firm Btep to his execu tion.

I retired then and entered the wood, that I might not witness this cruel tragedy. A few musket-shots soon apprised me that all was over. I returned an hour afterward; the regiment had departed ; all was quiet; but in skirting the edge of the wood to regain the road, I perceived at a few paces before me traces of blood and a heap of earth freshly made. I took a branch of fir-tree and made a sort of cross ; I placed it on the grave of poor Pierre, forgotten now by all the world ezcept myself and perhaps Marie.

Farming Matters.

IMPORTANT TO CHEESE-MAKERS

Complaints of neglect to provide dairy animals with pure water continue frequeDt in factory reports, and some experts assert that to the stagnant and impure water which farmers often virtually ompel their cows, to drink, more than, to any other cause is to be attributed the difficulty in turning out a first quality of cheese. At the opening of the present year, in an address before the American Dairymen's Association on the subject of tainted milk, floating curds, etc,, Mr. J. R. Chapman, of Madison county, New York, stated that, during the first five years of the cheese factory system, cheese makers encountered but little of the fetid fermentation which has been found to so large an extent among factories during the last three years. The factories of the former years were chiefly in regions of good erasses supplied- with running streams of spring water. Now, large numbers of factories are established on low, wet, swampy, sour lands, and on lands where the cows drink from stagnant ponds. However skillful a cheese manu facturer may be, he cannot make really good cheese in a region where such imperfect conditions of milk production exist.—American Paper. CUTTING FLOWERS.

Never cut flowers during intense sunshine, nor keep them exposed to the sun or wind. Do not collect them in large bundles, or tie them together, as this hastens their decay. Do not pull them, but cut them cleanly off the plant with a sharp knife—not with scissors. Use pure water to set them in, or pure white sand in a state of saturation, stick ing the ends of the stalks into it, but not in a crowded manner. If in water alone, it ought to be changed daily ; and a thin slice should be cut off the ends of the stalks at every change of water.

Varieties.

It is said that Brigham Young has ac quired the title of General from having been called ' Briggy, dear,' so often by his numerous wives.

An Illinois woman who had walked ten miles to see her husband hung, appeared to be much affected by the spectacle.

A Nevada lass having received an offer of marriage from a young merchant who had been in the neighbourhood but a short time, replied : ' Well, I don't know. Girls are scarce and high about here. What are you worth ?'

It is said to bo satisfactorily demon strated that every time a wife scolds her husband she. adds a wrinkle to her face. It was thought the announcement of this fact will have a most salutary effect, especially as it is understood that every time a wife smiles on her husband it will remove one of the old wrinkles.

■' Dan,' said a little four-year-old, • give me a sixpence to buy a monkey ?' 'We have got one monkey in the house now,' replied the elder brother. * Who is it, Dan ?' asked the little fellow. , * You,' was the reply, 'Then give me sixpence to buy the monkey some nuts.' . The brother could not resist.

An unknown friend has sent us a small pamphlet entitled • Papers on the Tails of Oomets.' It is a work of absorbing interest, and the title itself completely refutes the theories of those scientists who claim that the tails of comets are a mass of fire. If comets' tails were red-hot, they couldn't have ' Papers ' on 'em, of course. The papers are filled with articles upon 'Germany and the peace of Europe.' But Germany does not want any piece of Europe —she requires the whole. ' What is stupid,' he said, when they reproached him with having taken so much that he couldn't put one foot before the other, ' what is stupid is, not having taken so much, but trying to walk after wards.' . • : .

'Bemember, Mrs. B/ said Bogus, in a fluster one day, ' that you are the weaker vessel.' ' May be so,' replied the lady, 1 but I'll not forget that the weaker vessel may have the stronger spirit in it.'

The Frozen, Ship.

A Legend of the Polab Seas

One serene evening in the middle of August, 1775, Captain Warrens, the master of the Greenland, whaleship, found himself becalmed among an immense number of icebergs, in about 77 degrees of north latitude. On one side, and within a mile of his vessel, these were of immense height and closely wedged together, and a succession of snow-covered peaks appeared behind each other as far as the eye could reach, showing that the ocean was completely blocked up in that quarter, and that it had probably been so for a long period of time. Captain Warrens did not feel altogether satisfied with his situation; but there being no wind, he could not move either one way or the other, and he therefore kept a strict watch, knowing that he would be safe as long as the icebergs continued in their respective places. About midnight the wind rose to a gale, accompanied by a thick shower of snow, while a succession of tremendous thunder ing, grinding and crashing noises, gave fearful evidence that the ice was in motion, The vessel received violent shocks every moment; for the haziness of the atmosphere prevented those on board from discovering in what direction the open water lay, or if there actually was any at all on either side of them. The night was spent in tacking as often as any cause of danger happened to present itself, and in the morning the storm abated and Captain Warrens found to his great joy, that his ship had not sustained any serious injury. He remarked with surprise that the accumu lated icebergs, which had on the preceding evening formed an impenetrable barrier, had been separated and disarranged by the wind, and that in one place a canal or open sea wound its course among them as far as the eve could discern.

It was two miles beyond the entrance to this canal that a ship made its appear ance about noon. The sun shone brightly at the time and a gentle breeze blew from the north. At first some intervening ice bprgs prevented Captain Warrens from distinctly seeing anything but her masts, but he was struck with the strange manner in which her sails were disposed and with the dismantled aspect of her yards and rigging. She continued to go before the wind for a few furlongs, and then grounding upon the low icebergs, remained motionless.

Captain Warrens' curiosity was so much excited that he immediately leaped into his boat with several seamen, and rowed toward her. On approaching he observed that her hull was miserably weatherbeaten, and cot a soul appeared on the deck, which was covered with snow to a considerable depth. He hailed her crew several times, but no answer was returned. Previous to stepping on board an open port-hole near the main chains caught his eye, and on looking into it, he perceived a man reclining back in a chair, with writing materials on a table before .him ; but the feebleness of the light made everything indistinct. The party went upon deck, and having removed the hatchway, which they found closed, they descended to the cabin.

They .ar«t came to the apartment which Captain Warrens viewed through the port-hole. A tremor seized him as he entered it. Its inmate retained his former position, and seemed to be insensi ble to strangers. He was found to be a corpse, and a green damp mould had covered his cheeks and forehead, and vailed his open eyeballs. He had a pen in his hand and a log-book lay on the table before him, the last sentence in whose unfinished page ran thus :

'JN ovember 14, 1762. We have now been inclosed in the ice seventeen days. The fire went out yesterday, and our master has been ever since trying to kindle it agaia without success. His wife died this morning. There is no re lief—'

• Captain Warrens and his seamen hur ried from the spot without uttering a word. On entering the principal cabin the first object that attracted their attention was the dead body of a female reclining on a bed, in an attitude of deep interest and attention. Her countenance retained the freshness of life, and a contraction of the limbs showed that her form was inanimate. Seated on the floor was the corpse of an apparently youug man, holding a steel in one hand and a flint m the other, as if in the act of striking fire upon some tinder which lay beside him. In the forepart of the ressel several sailors were found lying dead in their berths ; aad the body of a boy was crouched at the bottom of the gangway stairs. Neither provision nor fuel could be discovered anywhere ; but Captain Warrens was prevented, by the superstitious prejudices of his seamen, from examining the vessel as minutely as he wished to have done. He therefore carried away the log-book already men tioned, and reiurned to his own ship, and immediately steered to the southward, deeply impressed with the awful example which he had just witnessed of the danger of navigating the Polar seas in high nor thern latitudes.

On returning to England he made various inquiries respecting vessels that had disappeared in an unknown way, and, by comparing the results of those with the information which was afforded by the written documents in his possession, he ascertained the name and history of the imprisoned ship and of the unfortunate master, and found that she had been frozen in thirteen years previous to the time of his discovering her among the ice.

A gentleman about to pass into the Public Library, with two ladies, last evening, found he had a freshly-lighted cigar to dispose of. There was a pleasant looking boy at the door, and he asked him to hold the weed till he returned. The boy consented. When the gentleman came out he was so pleased with the boy's. honesty that he gave him five cents, say ing-'Don't you smoke?' 'Yes,' said the boy. ' How is it that you didn't mat c off with the cigar then^ ?—many boys would have done it,' said the gratified gentleman. 'I don't know about that,' said the youth. 'It must be a pretty hard-pushed boy who'd run away with such a cigar as that.' The ladies tittered but the gentleman didn't.

The Girl of Ponsonby.

O'er Freeman's Bay and College Hill, On what was Dedwood's airy rise; The suburb fair of Ponsonby In happy silence lies. There lately battled Smith and Jones, There Brown and Robinson did try To get their favourite trustees in, To rule at Foasonby. There tradesmen, when they 're rich enough, To fine suburban homes retire, To smoke away the evening hours, ... Beside a cosy fire. And there, by All Saints' English church, Still pointing upwards to the sky ; There dwelt, within a shingled cot, The maid of JPonsonby. There like a flower of roseate hue. She bloomed, the loveliest of girls, And summer sunlight often played Upon her auburn curia.

She was as merry as a bee, And gladsome as a butterfly; And many a dandy youth admired The girl of Ponsonby. ' Oh, she was fashion's pretty slave. And drest in fashion's latest style, And wore a very little hat, At which old folk would smile. Her hat was far above her head, g A dress-improver too had she ; « And smart as any girl appeared The girl of Poasonby. On Ma's pianoforte she played, And ' Strangers Yet,' would sweetly sing. And Angelina at a ball Would dance like anything. The foolish boys their hats would raise j As Angelina passed them by ;' f And lassies saw with envious gaze The girl of Ponsonby. | At length a tailor sought her hand, . | And won from her a hopeful smile, And when he wished to name the day, She whispered, ' wait awhile,' At length, at All Saints' little Church, i His beating heart no longer free, 5 The simple tailor took for life, The girl of Ponsonby. They occupied a four-roomed house, Which formed a very nice abode , ; , And seemed to pass a joyous life, ..j$ In Karangahape road. Soon simple Frederick sighed, 'Ah me,' j| My darling cannot make a pie, j| I wish that I had never wooed, j| I The girl of|Ponsonby.' W Though she could play and dance and sinn| A joint of meat she could not cook, , jj| Nor yet a pudding could she make,' Without her cook'ry book. mm JMor could she wash his Sunday shirt, *jjjs| And o'er his buttons she would, cry ; And oft she warbled other airs, f^js Than those of Ponsonby, Jljij One morning, early in the year, ' .£.- The hapless tailor ran away : 3fy And Angelina has not seen .' Jj Her husband since that day. So girls, be useful in your homes, ' A -A And keep your rooms from cobweba fi. j| And shun poor Angelina's fate, i|P The girl of Ponsonby. W

UNKNOWN

In'his boob, 'Troy and its Eemainsj discovery of the 'Treasures of | Priam' is thus described by Dr. S| mann: —'In excavating this'"l further, and directly by the 'si| the palace of King Priam, I 3 upon a large copper article of the! remarkable form which attracted attention all the more as I thorn saw gold behind it. On the tg this copper article lay a strati! red and calcined ruins, from 4a 5-^ft thick, as hard as stone, andjl this again lay the wall of fortini (6ft board and 20ft high), whi|| built of large stones and earfffi must have beonged to an earlyl after the destruction of Troya order to withdraw the treasury* the greed of workmen, and tow for. archaeology, I had to bw§ expeditious, and although it wa yet time for breakfast, i immefi had the 'paidos' called. This/ word of uncertain derivation, whje passed over into Turkish and||| employed for time to rest. A\ Kil men were eating and resting, 11|| the treasure with a large knifeH it was impossible to do witling very greatest exertion and th|j| fearful risk of my life, for thl||| fortification wall, beneath whiSt to dig threatened every momei^ffi down upon me. But the sight many objects, everyone of "wjp*' inestimable value to archaelb|f me foolhardy, and I never thjf any danger. It would, howe^j been impossible for me removed the treasure withoutj of my dear wife, who stoplj ready to pack the things w|| out in her shawl, and to c% away.' The treasure com] large copper cauldron^ shield, globular bottle :ij. 4old weighing lib troy, a cw j weighing 7|ozs, large tw| drinking cup, small cup M silver electrum, six silver dishes, jugs, &c, ot pilyjj lances, battle-axes, daggers.'! weapons, a copper key, s'ijl ■have belonged to the treaffl and m one of the silver vaslf splendid gold diadems, a filM I beautiful gold ear-rings, <m* workmanship, fifty-six goldjjl 8,970 small gold rings, b]a|| six gold bracelets, andlw goblets. Trom the apposj position, of the articles, ■ If,1 rectangular mass, or pack|H 1 another, it seems to be JB p they were placed on the ciif i wooden chest, such as thdlf j by Homer as being in, .■t)&|i tying Priam. - .- vV. ■ itjj||H that some members of WM King Priam hurriedly pa|||l sure into the chest, and:|® without having time totpu key j that when he reacjffi."'

SUPPLEMENT TO THE AUCKLAND EVENING STAB,