PROBATION A TALE OF THE LANCASHIRE COTTON FAMINE.

By MISS JESSIE .FOTHEItOIIjIi, ■ Autlior of "Jlealey," "Aldytli," "The First Violin," etc.

-■ ■ — «*»■ — *•* CHAPTER XIX. " I DREAMT I DWELT IN MARBLE WALLS." Castle Hill, the Spcncclcy mansion, was a large, new, imposing residence of redbrick, with massive stone facings. Ithnd been the dwelling of Mr Sponceley andhis family for some six or seven years, and it was within these walls that' Helena sat in captivity, and groaned alternately over the selfishness 'of men and the mcan-spiritodness of women. On the appointed evening, Mrs Mallory, her son and lingo, were driven to this mansion, and ushered into the drawing room. It mi an apartment vast in dimen sions, lofty, dazzling, perfectly square, per fectly gorgeous, and more than perfectly uncomfortable. Some ten or twelve persons were collected somewhere amidst the mass of gorgeous carpet, hangings, furniture, and dazzling crystal drops which seem to blend and com bine iv a determined and successful effort to crush and annihilate the human portion of the scene. Sebastian and Hugo saw Mrs Mallory sail up to a massive-looking lady in purple satin, white lace, and unlimited jewellery of florid design and great bril liance. This lady she greeted almost affec tionately. Wan she not Helena's mother? and did not Mrs Mallory hcrsolf regard Helena almostasa daughter? Having intro- ■ duced Sebastian and Hugo, Mrs Mallory turned to Mr Sponceley, while the two young men bowed themselves before the mistress of the house. Sin.'said she was very glad to see tliom. I Then she told Sebastian that she had heard a great deal about him, and then she looked hurriedly around for " Mr Sponceley." That gentleman, who had been exchang ing courtesies in a loud and blatant voice with Mrs Mallory, now began to welcome Sebastian to las native place, also iv a loud and blatant manner. " Well, sir, I'm glad to see you. Come home just in the nick of time, you have. You've a grand opportunity for making your fortune now. Gad I but it's providential, this American business IWe shall get rid of some of our surplus stock now. It/11 giVo us a pull over our workpeople too, at last ; and not before we need it. The fellows wore getting beyond everything, eh ?" Sebastian, his calm and serious eyes quietly scanning the strong, if coarse under bred face of the man before him, merely said that he was. quite new to this kind of thing. He had not considered the subject in that light at all. " Well, I should advise you to do so as soon as possible then, or you'll lose your chance," shouted Mr Sponceley, whose voice was elevated so as to drown entirely those of the rest of the company, while liis wife looked timidly on, her florid face set gravely, and her eyes round and staring with a sort of anxious attentivencss. Sebastian foresaw that he would have to take her into dinner, and he glanced at her now and then wondering what he should say to her —how keep up some kind of a conversation. She was a tall, stout, matronly woman; once she must have been an extremely handsome lass. Her black hair was still abundant, and had something of the wan ness of Helena's ; her eyes, too, were dark. She was as tall as her daughter, but more lymphatic in temperament. Helena probably inherited her 'beauty from her mother, and her vehemence from her father. Mrs Spenceley was accustomed to rolliu her carriage throughout Bridgefold and Lower Place, suburbs of Thanshopc, and to look from her elevation upon the ex tensive matrons who stood at their -cottage doors, exchanged gossip, and scolded their ingenuous offspring', sporting in the road before them ; but her nature was the same at? theirs. Denude her of her silks and satins, attire her in a cotton or linsey gown, with bare arms and a large apron, her hair twisted up into a knot behind, and her head eapless ; a cottage full of cares and unruly children, a rough "menstcr"to make and " do" for, and she would have been indis tinguishable from those other matrons. Slie would have fallen back into the old ways quite genially and naturally; she would have been what she certainly was not under existing arrangements—happy. For Mrs Spencoley was unhappy in her richness and jrrentnes* ; she coula remember quite distinctly the days when Sponceley had been overlooker at one of the great factories, and she had done the work of the house, and brought up the children single handed, and was happy—and not genteel, She roniemb ered the sudden leap into pros perity, the gradually increasing establish ment, Helena disniissed|to a fashionable board ing school, and Fred to a private and select academy, where lie was to learn how to be come a gentleman—that short, easy, and cvery-day process, where, as a matter of fact, he nad drunk in one lesson, and one only, namely, that a fellow whose father has money, and who will one day have money himself, need not know or do or be any thing—except rich. Mrs Sponceley remem bered how servants, of whom she stood in awe, had accumulated round her ; how she had to leave her kitchen to their tender mercies; how she had found that she must not handle a duster, or have an opinion as to the merits of the heave-shoulder or the wave-breast any longer ; until she had got a magnificent housekeeper, in black silk and a lace cap who was tully conscious of the primordial fact that large and wealthy estab lishments only existed in order .that she might domineer over one of them. How Helena was returned upon her hands, a "finished" young lady, ignorant, as it .seemed to Mrs Speneeley in her own igno rance of the very elements of a womanly edu cation—unable to keep house, to cook, to sew, even to distinguish ribs of beef from sirlioa. She had ventured mildly to utter some of her woe to the father who said: "Pooh! Let the lass alone. Shell never need to know such things. She shall marry a lord! Only don't let her cross me, and she'll do." And Helena had been suffered to trample upon the domestic arts, and to throw herself, with all the energy of one who has nothing to do with herself, into all sorts of questions about which her active brain made her curious, while her unfinished education left her profoundly ignorant of their practical bearings. She had nofemale friends except Mrs Mallory and Miss Merre weather, a conspicuous friend and upholder of the "cause." She loved Mrs Mallory, because that lady was kind to her, and was by no means a nonentity ; and she adored Miss Merreweather because of her talents, or what seemed to Helena her talents.. Friends at home the girl had none. Fred had one of those hopelessly dense natures which may be called the complacently brutal —nothing in the way of friendship or sym pathy was to be had from him. Her father—Helena, in her intercourse at school with girls of good family and social surroun dings, had learned to know that her father's manners and language were to be abhorred,

had he been a Sir Charles Grandisonin matter of deportment, his coarse bullying ferocious bantering of her mother would alone have made the hot-spirited girl almost hate him. And Fred—his mother stood in profound, awe of him ; his talk, his slang, his ways in general; and she Was the one soul on earth, except himself, who was firmly con vinced of the fact that Frederick Sponceley was at once a finished gentleman, and a consummate man of the world. As Sebastian sut watching his hostess, and partly divining some of these facts, a voice at his elbow, roused him. " Good evening, Mr Mallory. You look as if you were dreaming." Looking quickly round, he saw Helena standing close besidehim.smiling as frankly as if no misunderstanding had ever existed , between them, as if they had not quar relled violently within two hours of first seeing eacli otiier. How lovely she was ! Nono but a very lovely woman could have stood the dull ivory satin dress she wore, fitting tight, without a fold or a crease in the waist; and, in an age of voluminous, portentous crinolines, trailing straight and long behind her. She wore a black lace iiciiu, and elbow sleeves with black lace ruffles falling from them. The fichu was fastened with a golden brooch; beyond that was not a ribbon, not a frill, not a flower about her. And her beauty came triumphant through the ordeal. . They had departed on decidedly evil terms, and he was surprised now to find that she welcomed him cordially and smiled as she took the chuir beside him. "I'm afraid I was very cross the other night," said she, with a sunny smile. "But I thought you hud teas»d me badly, and 1 am going to have my revenge to-night, and show you that I am in earnest,. My greatest friend, Laura Merrowcather, lias most for tunately been able to come jnst when I.in vited her. Wasn't that wonderful?" "I am prepared to say it was; but 1 don't yet know why." " You know Miss Merrcweather; by ' name, at least?" "To my shame I must confess that I never even heard of her before." '• What an extraordinary thing.' She has a European reputation." " You astonish mo ! For what ?"■ "As being the most advanced female thinker, and the greatest benefactor toiler sex, of her time." Sebastian's face fell, as he looked round the room. "These very intellectual women have nothing very remarkable in their personal appearance," said lie. "Would you be lieve that, of the sovoral young ladies I see seated about the room, I could not say which I should suppose to be Miss Merre weather." " That," said Helena, impressively, "that slight girl, all intellect and mind, and spirit, talking to my brother—that is Laura ! " Is it really ?" he said, his eyes falling up on the ethereal-looking being described by Helena. He saw a thin, nervous-looking girl—a girl with not a bad face, if it could not be called absolutely handsome. She too was dressed, like Helena, in a tightly-fitting robe with undistended skirts, but her dress wns black. She wore an eye-glass, looked restlessly around, and had a contralto voice. There was nothing alarming in her appear ance; she looked, thought Sebastian, as if she would have mnde an excellent head mistress of a large school, the matron of a hospital, or some authority of that descrip tion. " She is ti woman of powerful individua lity, I should say," he remarked. j *" Is she not! After dinner she shall talk to you." "Oh, you are very kind! I wouldn't trouble her for the world." "Itisnotrouble. Nothingdonefortheeausc would be a trouble to Laura ; and then you must be enlightened, You must learn that ours is not a cause to be treated with levity. You must b punished for what you did and said the other night," said Helena. "I submit; but—-I am sure you could talk just as well," said Sebastian resignedly. "All, if I could!" said Helena, gazing with admiring devotion towardsher friend. " Is there not an immensity of power and force about her?" she said enthusiastically. " Laura has several times been mistaken for a man—by persons who have heard her voice and her remarks, without seeing her." "Has she? How excessively annoying for her !" said Sebastian with feeling. f Annoying !It pleases her,.as a testi mony to her power, and as a proof that there is no disparity in the respective capacities of men and women. Of course, when it is known that books or pictures have been written or painted by women, all hope of fair and impartial criticism is over." "Is it? Well, I was looking at the question from another point of view, i though that if Miss Merrewcather dis approves so strongly of men in general, it weuld annoy her to be mistaken for one of that odious and inferior sex; and, more over, would only be a sign of how very different.she must be from most women." '' She is very superior to most women ; if that is what you mean, I concede the point willingly." " Well if such a superior woman is often mistaken for a man, is not that a piece of negative evidence of the inferiority of women in general ?" he asked politely. Helena's face had flushed again., " As I said, Laura shall talk to you. She will argue much better than I can. I do not pretend to her abilities. And there is-Parsons' announcing dinner," added Helena hastily, her colour, mounting still higher its she caught Sebastian's eyes fixed with a grave, yet not unkindly expression upon her face. He rose to offer Mrs Sponceley his arm, and stood with her, watching the couples as they filed out of the room. Yes, Helena was lovely, and not all her wild talk, not even her enthusiastic admiration for Miss Merre wcather, could make her otherwise. He looked absently on, as first his mother and Mr Spenceley went by; next a gorgeous dowager, whose tribal name and standing were unknown to him, but whom he dis-' tinctly heard saying something about "the 'cist at the Lang'um 'otel," as she swept {>ast, on the arm of a flaccid-faced, red laircd, meek-looking man, pertaining to the goodly company of cotton spinners. The wife of the said cotton spinner followed next, with a gentle-looking incumbent—he who ministered to the spiritual needs of Mr Spenceley and his family. More couples followed. Fred Spenceley with Miss Merrc weather—more gorgeous dowagers and res plendent spinsters, and more of the native young men, leading the same to the ban quet, and, at last, Helena, in her creamy robes, with Hugo. " The lucky young dog !" thought Sebas tian resignedly, as Hugo's eyes met his, and the lad smiled rather triumphantly, in the full consciousness that he was leading out the prettiest woman in the rooim Was she talking women's rights now? Sebastian wondered, as he silently brought up the rear with the equally siient Mrs' Spenceley. No ! She was laughing with Hugo, like any other well conditioned per son, and asking him to tell her exactly how he spelt his name, and if it had any parti cular meaning, " For I know nothing about German, you know, except a translation of the ' Sor rows of Werther,' which I thought very funny."

" And I do not know much about Eng lish," said Hugo, much delighted with his own good fortune " but I can understand yours, sehr gut— l mean, very well. You speak so clearly—it is different from the London people." " Not bad for a first attempt, old boy I' thought Sebastian, smiling, as they entered the celebrated dining room of Castle Hill, with its pictures and bronzes, and statuary, all of the very best, and " bought by peo ple who understood such things," as Mr Spenceley was wont modestly,to say, when anyone-praised his artistic treasures. Mrs Spenceley did not look like a person who would have exactly a discriminating taste in the matter of genre-paintings, or landscape, but Sebastian broke the silence between them by remarking on a little pic . ture hanging opposite to him. " Yes ; it's by a person called Ansdell, I believe," said Mrs Spenceley. " They say it's very good; but for my part I'm no judge of such things." Sebastian bowed, and then thinking that perhaps locnl topics might prove more suc cessful than artistic ones, said he feared that distress was already beginning amongst the workpeople. Mrs Spenceley turned witk some vivacity to her guest. " You're right, Mr Mallory. If it goes on as it is doing it'll break some 'carts before all's over." " Do you visit much amongst them?", "Not so much as I could wish. There's some of the poor creatures will soon be fair clemming-starving I mean." Mrs Spence ley sank Iter voice, and every now and then her eyed turned with a little nervous, waver ing glance toward her lord at the other end of the table. "You see, I shouldn't like to go amongst them so much without I could help them a bit. I should like to have a soiipkitchen ;" she added with feeling; " but Spenceley doesn't quite approve of it. He says that many of them have money laid by, and lie's of opinion that wo must let them help themselves a bit before we begin to help them." " From a politico-economical point of view Mr Spenceley is perhaps right," said Sebastian, glancing down the table at the red-faced, coarse-featured man, with the heavy jaw not devoid of cruelty ; and noting that same jaw reproduced even more obtru sively and unpleasantly in the son; scarcely at all in the daughter, or at least only in a manner which gave an expression of decision to the charming mouth. " I know nothing about politics," said Mrs Spenceley; "and you may mark my words—those that's starving -will want broad, not politics." " Certainly they will. Unfortunately you often cannot give them the one without a good deal of the other." •'I dare say. But if the war doesn't stop soon we shall have to do something, if it was only to try and teach the poor women to make the most of their bits of stuff, Most of them are no housekeepers to speak of. They can spin and weave, but they can't make home comfortable, and after all that's the chief thing. But," she added suddenly remembering different reports she had heard of Sebastian, and Helena's con temptuous announcement that he was a fop, who thought the world was made for his amusement, and that there was nothing in life Worth the trouble of being earnest about, "you won't be much interested in these kind of things, Mr Mallory." "On the contrary, I am much interested in it. Your idea makes makes me wondei if something could not be done. If some schools, or something of that kind could be established, if some of the ladies of the town would take it up—my mother and you. for example, Mrs Spencely—and make it unnecessary for those poor girls to be wandering alxntt, laughing and making fun of people m the streets, as I saw them the other day. And your daughter—l should think Miss Spenceley would find the work congenial." "Helena!" echoed the mother, shaking her head. "It's of no use talking about her, Mr Mallory. She has always some fresh craze in her head, and never a useful one. That horrid Miss Merreweather has been the ruin of her." Sebastian repressed a smile. "If she only would turn to something useful!" lamented Mrs Spenceley j "but with these ridiculous ideas about women being better than men, and all that—and she can't even make a shut for her father, or a pudding for her brother. Oh, but I beg your-pardon—only I do often tell her that she would never make a good wife with . theso ideas—not if she had millions of pounds and was the prettiest girl in Eng land." Though Mrs Spenceley threw back her head and spoke in a tone of annoyance, yet Sebastian clearly distinguished ah accent of pride in her voice. The homely mother, then, was not altogether displeased with her wilful, brilliant girl. "And what does she say to that?" he asked, looking at Hugo and Helena, who seemed to be enjoying some remarkably good joke; and he thought: "The pret tiest girt in England ! a t least she might hold her own amongst a dozen of the pret tiest." " Oh, she says she never will be married, and all that nonsense. I tell her to wait until Mr Eight comes, and then we shall hear a different song. ■ I wish he would, I'm sure," she addedlervently, " before she get's spoiled. She has a right good heart has Helena, if only a giddy nead." Sebastian did not] answer. He was still looking towards Hugo and Helena, and felt intensely conscious of the ripple of laughter which scarcely ceased between them. It was impossible that women's rights, or any such bristly, hateful topic could be causing that delighted look on Hugo's dark artist face; could call that gracious curve to Helena's rod lips. Hugo threw himself with passion into the joy of the moment, as Sebastian know; Helena seemed to have something of his eager inflammable tempe rament. At least they appeared to be very happy together. Dinner over, a group of four congregated in a corner. Helena on a sofa, with Hugo beside her ; Sebastian and Miss Merrewea ther facing one another in chairs, and the cross examination about to begin. Helena had wished to leave Sebastian and Miss Merreweather to fight it out alone, but he had meekly suggested that it was not fair to make him confront the most remarkable womau of her age entirely without support; and Hugo adding his petition, Helena had consented to be present at the discussion, Helena seated herself, opened her fan, and said: " Now, Laura .dear, Mr Mallory would like to know your views on the Woman Question." She avoided meeting the look of sorrow ful amazement and reproach with which Sebastian heard this decidedly exaggerated announcement, and Laura replied : "I should first -wish to know Mr Mai lory's own views upon thatsubject— the sub ject, I may say, of the present age." " They are soon stated," said Sebastian. " I have none." " Then there is some hope for you," said Miss Merreweather, with rather* a pitying smile. "I am glad of that. At the same time, I should like to know in which direction the hope shows itself."

" Your frank acknowledgment of your utter ignorance of the question is a great point in your favour. As you have no views at all upon it, you are the more likely to be able to receive just ones when they arc offered to you." . " I have' some preconceived ideas upon the matter .of logic and reasonableness, common sense, and all that kind of thing. Will that be against me in this case, do you think?" I ■■■■' & ' " I dislike flippancy," said Laura, j " I did not mean to be flippant. I merely wished for information." .... ■*" "We will take the suffrage first," said Miss Merreweather, raising her voice some what, as if to scatter' such irrelevant remarks to the winds. "Are you in favour of ex tending the franchise- to women«-I mean women householders and ratepayers ?" ■ " On what grounds ?" " On the only grounds on which they can claim it; oa the grounds that they arc mentally, morally, and in the practical affairs of the world, the equal of man ; and that as they bear equal burdens for the State so they should hare equal privileges. " I could never grant them the suffrage on those grounds." ■• "What!" exclaimed both ladies, while Helena started forward, and dropped her fan, her eyes fiashing.and her face flushing. " Because it would take too long to prove your case. What is more, if you fight the question on that ground, I doubt whether you will ever win it. You cannot be said to have proved a. case to your opponent until you have got him to agree with you, and you will never,, in your lifetime at least, get more than a number to agree with you on that point; it may be an in fluential number, and a selectone, but it will riot beat all a majortty;" - "Your argument is not logical.it is a quibble," said Miss Merreweather disdain fully. "Your real opinion is, that women ought not to have the.franchise." r I never said so. If they think it a pri vilege, and if they would be pleased to have it, why not ?". ?' ■ „.■ •■ •': Miss Merreweather, unaccustomed to this style, neitlmr agreement nor opposition, was silent,a moment. Then a shade of pique crossed her brow. . " You do not think women worth dis cussing anything seriously with ?" said' she. "Excuse.my saying that yon are quite mistaken." i •» " Then why don't you discuss this ques tion seriously?",was the decidedly feeble reply of the most remarkable woman of her time. " But I do. I say, why not give them the franchise if they would like to have it ? I suppose that by degrees they would get educated up to it." "Mr Mallory! You are absolutely in sulting," cried Helena angrily; and Sebas tian merely answered with a grave look, and the remark: ' "I am sorry if I have offended you." •' 'r<- Helena's lips opened to utter fnrther reproach, suddenly closed; with a look of embarrassment she became silent, and Miss Mere weather, in a business like tone said : "Mr Mallory is not so dark as he seems to you, my dear. I have good hopes for him. "We will turn to another branch of the subject. What is your opinion, Mr Mallory, of the relative status nefore the law of husband and wife? What do you think of the laws about married women's property." •; ■ "'• I "I think they are bad," said Sebastian stifling a yawn, and glancing at Hugo, ivho was fanning himself -with Helena's fan, while she leaned eagerly forward. , :. - " Ah !'' said Laura, " an opinion at last; You agree with us that there, in that most important of all relations, the woman is a slrve." " I don't think I said so. I suppose the woman might be. a slave if every-husband were as bad as the law would allow him to be. Men are,not aUty rants, nor women all slaves; so I suppose that is why the law has not been changed." ... v '. '* That is sophistry," said Laura. '■ "Willyou deny it is fact?"he enquired politely. t: "Then you would allow, the law to be - altered?" i . ;J ..,,. . -.'..' "Certainly." . ~, . - ," It is an important subject for you, my dear child," said Misa Merreweather to Helena,. "I only hope your resolution will remain firm, and that you will resist temp tation and specious promises. In your case you will have plenty of both." " Qf course I shall resist," said Helena,. a little crossly. "I am not quite imbecije, Laura, and know how to take care of my self. My mind is quite made up on that subject. . , ...:; " In what direction?" inquired Sebas tian. .. •• ■ • - ' " I have told you already. I know- I; shall have property," said Helena, trying to speak with lofty indifference, but all the same, not unaware that the young man's eyes were fixed upon her face, and with her own wavering as she went on with the speech which she had uttered many a time before, and which now struck her for the first time as falling somewhat flat, and not being quite equal to the' occasion. Other young men had looked at her, and said they were sure she did'ntmean it, and it was too cruel of her, and other " vacant chaff" of the same description. Sebastian only looked at her, gravely, calmly, as it seemed to her, almost pityingly^ and in perfect silence. The glance stung and galled, her. She would not be deterred by that look. What was Sebastian MaUory but a man—a thoughtless young man who had dared to laugh at her views ? "Andproperty entails responsibilities," she continued. "It certainly does." \>v< < " I shall therefore never marry," said Helena courageously, fhoughherfaccbnrned, and she wished intensely that she had never insisted upon the discussion. "I shall look after my own affairs and arrange them according to mv own judgment. I will be free, and nobody's servant." " A very wise resolution; provided first, that you keep it;, and second, that you feel equal to disposing judiciou'slyof a large pro perty." " I have no doubt about that," said she, with a lofty smile, still not raising her eyes, and very angry with herself for not being able to do so; Sebastian 'smiled, and the smile made Helena feel hot and uncomfortable. • "I hope," said he, with extreme polite ness," that you will feel the satisfaction which should be the reward of such high motives." ' Helena flushed again. She had argued the point more than once with different people, and without this feeling of embar rassment. Why was she embarrassed now ? What would that "nicest girl" he ever knew think, if she were here ? Had she money ? He had said she had been brought up in the school of adversity. That re minded Helena of another point in the argu ment, which she ought to have advanced long ago. She was dimly conscious of a kind of bathos, as she said . " I don't believe in useless fine ladies, you know, all the same. I think women ought to be able to earn their own living if necessary. They ought to be able to be quite independent of men, if they choose." . "Do you tiiink they ever would choose?" he asked, with a suppressed smile.

"Iknow this, th.itl w6uldiatwT"■ fourponce a clay as & needlewoman.^ •! depend upon any aian ?" g^ si*> hotly, and indignantly. " And I could Jf I ways dp that." ■«■ 1 "In that case I congratulate yoV t I :rctorted ironically. " you m s 'i r T all calamities and niisfortui.-ea. if AIT could feel myself equally secure." Jr \. " Y6u have not argued a suiffle#&,\u , r 1 said Helena, with passion !»JHSL never be at the trouble to talk serloJX you again." ■ V 1° dig"Sf»wniwlttolßeiltiulA*B'1 She had risen, and AThirledhefselTS to the other end of the room, wh er e Z busied herselfin setting two youngkdieat! l screech duets, whilo she comWWS or otherwise) with the clergyman.- 11 Sebastian turned with a half smile fouU I Merreweather. ,He f oUnd an uni S; passion. He had a dun. vaffue infni thani' m ' t.o tried he could not onl/ffie h S i afunr, bntswfljphqr. back into, hffift I but he was qmfe sure lie never' would'tnt ' | fehS; • onsht> >v'ere not in Ws^e- & ! liked better, as a permanency, thp' pfcrfect i temper and calm self-possessfon o£ anUe r I Adrin ■ °ne W°^A wish^° teW His mind half given to such' thoughts he H conversed >vith. Miss Merreweather,; anj his opinion of Helena's discrimination' I was gradually raised. Miss MerrßM-eather' was not at all bitter ■ about her defeat-it defeat it were. She was clever,'sensible • and accompEshed... Shedwned that sHedEE think a great deal aholit' the advaiicehient1' of woiiienand their improvement.andßliewar ah ardent advocate for giving theia tW-'.:. franchise; but, she added,. she.could, not go to the lengths Helena did, and very, sbonl' • they left that subject and turned tp-othew- Tlieir conversation was perfectly amicabS m and agreeable, and Helena watched; '&i£i from afar, with a darkling,! somewliatlr^i 11 sentful glance. Dear Laura's onefahlt, she thought, was that, she was too facils^-Mtr >! she compromised too easily. , , /' ■■'.. ■', !j{ As the Mallorys drove home, Mi'sVMal« ■■.;■'■: loiy, completely deceived by the lopg,con." versatiou ■ wMcn had taken place,: was ; :in"fi!.:. disastrously, unsuspiciously amiable.franrei of mind, and was correspondingly dejected when' Sebastian, sumniiiut up his 'deairip.! tion of the evening's . entert.airiment, said-. I that Miss Spenceley had adopted the'sjrictlj"'' feminine line of argument, (rAgre?!wiHr 1 all I say, or I will quarrel with you!" .v' | " As I did not agree ■withall sliesiii|^ she quarrelled with me. Voila- <aaif/>pi4 slie talk women's rights to you, Hugo?" w ;,■ "To me—no!" ■ /: • / :■■ S "Why I should Deselected as thevictiin,a ' j I can't imagine," pursued Sebastian. "Itfaw a pity she does it, for she could be nice, I I am sure; and as it is, she make 9 lierself "'-.] simply a bore." ~ ■ .•. ■, > r;;n MJjfn <'■■: Mrs Malloiy was silent, .mentally heap 4 ing opprobrium upon Helena's crazes. 0 To he' continued.

The Excessive Luxury And Self- Indulgence Of The Age.

;.-.'. ' ■ ' .& ' ' i^sll .1...-^;ia | ENGLISH parsons of almost aUdenomiha?;1 | tiohs have arrived at the conclusion that the*-" Britisher is in a bad way sprntually^anaV-j headed by the Archbishop of Canterbury/-!, they have issued an " Invitation Prayer)*^ which it ishoped Will be effectivelin amkliof-' ' ating the '' lawlessness and godlcssaeas, the -.'. excessive luxury and seif-indulgenfic,"wMsa> the clerical eye discerns raging''among the' * inhabitants of the British Isles. 'Some of .-' the London! journals are excessively ihdig nant at the clergymen for their assumption, ,r that sin is.on the increase in Great Britain; .'V and bring forward many proofs tosbowthat^ ■ the parsons are labouring imder a delusion^' and do not know their own business One^' newspapermeetsthe charge about the growth of lawlessness by stating that "the implica- .' tion seems hardly warranted, if we consider, I the population' of Great Britiah, kept' in' | order as it is, even iv large centres, by a few policeman. If the reverend conveners.„ had said the direct reverse, arid congratu lated the mass of the people on their prompif obedience to law and their wonderful reS-'i diness to keep order.: on important public occasions, we should have indorsed the '■:'■{ eulogy." .-. ■>■■■'■ ■ •;' '•■ ''■'-' •• ''" /:V\ ■.*'■';; The accusation of the sin of godlessness is S found more difficult to controvert," ariduie,- j journal in question follows the oldi'BaUey..,.! maxim: "When you have a bad case abuse your opponent's attorney." It accordingly, ■« " goes for " the -parsons and attacks I tooth and naU on the ground that Bow few -*■', there are of them who give themselves' up to a religious life. In short, the whqle.line 19 of argument is to the effect that the Arch bishop of Canterbury and the other signato-11 ries- to the:" Invitation to Prayer" do' not fi& understandwhat they are talking about;^' ' It is plain enough, however, to an unpre-1| judiced foreigner that the indictment of the" M clergy of the " excessive luxury' arid self;; 1: indulgence of the age "is only too-truest The increase of wealth in Great Britian during the last two centuries probably ac counts for it, although it does hot' justify the increased expenditure of money. for »j purposes of sensual gratification.1; Inl688'"" there were only 160 persons whose incomes were more than 25,000 dols. a year. In-r ---1867 the number had increased to 7,500.f r Only between six and seven thousand per-jT|, sons could boast of an income of' over M 5,000d015. and under2s,oCKWols. in'the former ; l(j year, but in the latter more than forty thous sand paid taxes' on amounts between those . sums. Naturally one would expect an in-,.; ---creased amount of luxury to be the outcome || of tliis accumulation "of wealth, bht the fact;, g does not justify the vulgar ostentation'with I which increased wealth is displayed now- " adays. The gluttony which pervades the. M homes of the rich can; only' be guessed atj^j but if it is.commensurate' with that-dis-j' played on.-the fashionable race' courses or m cricket'grounds, a pretty accurate estimate^ of the 'extent of this, "sin "-—as the ''Ih-,,^1 viters to Prayer" consider it—can -be ar--i;:* rivedat. Nothing can be more disgusting ■- than.ihe gorging and guzzling which are tobe',^ 'seen in any fashionable drag at the Derby or: ; h Oaks. As a caustic pen describes the scene, ,;. " the flushed women, the wine-fed menj the S| circle ; of sensuality, the; extravagance• arid I j the excess, all unblushingly advertised as a typical of a manly form of English amuse- J mpnt." Tins porcine gobbling of rich food is not confined to the occupants of the'drag. Any man who is on a bowing acquaintance ~ with the owner, or, with the females jwhb:, honour tliisorgie with their presence, is asked' • to join in the feast. As, of course, there is no room on the drag, the new guest has to find . a vacant place where he can to consume the viands and liquors which the grooms offer | him.' The most convenient position is |ene* '•*• rally on theground between the hind wheels of the coach, and it is there that he man- I ages to do justice to the remains of the raised pies, lobster salads and flat champagne which the occupants of the drag have left ~.-, over. His plight may belikenea t'd that of Lazarus while feeding on the crumbs which fell from the rich man's table, but without-, i the prospect of a warm corner in Abraham's M bosom to console him afterward. — "New"" York Sun."

2

STAR SATURDAY SUPPLEMENT, OCTOBER 15, 1881.