THE DIAMONDS.

Naturally, considering tho nature of my calling, I have been always particularly at tracted by the scores of stories -not, I am inclined to think, always based upon actual occurrences-which tell of the ingenious plots contrived by scoundrels to gain pos. session of other people's jewels, especially diamonds. ; In many cases such stories arc, of course, but pure fiction. But as to those which profess to narrate tacts, whether plain or coloured, I have only too much reason, from personal experience, to suspect hat the real owners of jewels have very often more to do with thqjr disappearance than easily-imagined brigands, swindlers or thieves. Nevertheless, there is enough substratum of truth to make even purely invented stories of this kind probable. Mine is not an invented story; but my reason for telling it is not so much its trutli as its supremely extraordinary character. Its like in any single detail never-happened to anybody else in the world. Were it not for this I would assuredly refrain from add ing to the pile of jewel stories in which some jeweller's agent plays the part of hero or victim. For I was myself agent to a very great firm of jewellers in London—l need not say to whom—when there happened to myself that terrible experience, terrible al most beyond the power of words to describe, ■which 1 am, for the first time in my life, about to try to tell in words. I remember as if it were yesterday how one of our partners called me into his pri vate room and said to me : "Morris, I must ask you to be good enough to start for Paris this evening—that is to say, by the very first possible train. You know that parure of tho Princess Mouranovthat we hod.to put into new set tings ?" "Of course I do." " Well, you know tho Princess as a cus tomer ; she is rather Mighty; but she's too big a gun for us to disregard her whims. The purure is just out of hand and was to have been dolivorcd to her in Portland-place to-morrow morning : but-it's just like her — she's taken it into her head to set off on a voyage to America, and an hour after she took the whim into her hcid she was off— so I hear. It's just like her, anyhow. I believe she goes to Patagonia, where her diamonds—that is to say, her parure—she thinks, will bo indispensable to her. I shouldn't have thought so myself, but I supposo she knows. Anyhow, she's going to spend the whole of to-morrow in Paris, and her diamonds must be delivered to her there and paid for—you understand. If wo don't deliver the pamre she'll never forgive us, and if she doesn't pay before going off, heaven knows where, why, we shall never forgive ourselves. You'll have to bo sharp, for it doesn't follow that she'll stay in Paris n whole day because she says she •will, and you'd better avoid having to folldw her if you possibly can," "Naturally! Where is Madame to be found!"

"At a place called Lcs Bosquets. It's outside Paris ; but here's tho address writen down. I needn'l tell you to bo cautious—" " Why?" asked I. "It all seems simple enough. I've only got to give the parure to the Princess—into her own hands, of course —receive the money, give and take a receipt and come away. There will be no difficulty about the Princess's money, I suppose ?" " No. But,don't you see,l'm afraid you're still a trille young, Morris. Those Mourn nov diamonds are as well known to all the diamond-hunters in Europe —and they swarm abroad—ns they are to me. Better than tliey are to you, by a long way. By some means or other, you may take your oath, one of these gentry will know you to have the charge of them. It's no good taking precautions against that; they will know all the same, and precautions are only a way of putting people on tho trail. Take care you see the lady, my friend. Take care you see tho right lady. Don't eat and don't drink, however much you may be pressed, till you're safe back at your hotel. Don't shut you eves till it all over. If a gtrange woman speaks to you, cut her dead; if a 6tra ngQ mau, knock him down. And——" " Well, what else ? But I'll take care of myself, never fear." "You're an unusually handsome man, yovrknow," said he, with a wink and a knowing smile, "and I suppose, like all handsome men, you're a bit of a lady-killer —without meaning it, you know. A nod s as good as a wink, you know, and you re not a blind horse, whatever you may be. Paris is a lively place, you know, for a man of your make, with diamonds next his heart worth thousands of pounds. It isn't the men I'm afraid of in your case; it's the women." ...'-, Every man likes that sort of chaff, and I was really weak enough in those days to take an especial pride in what I could not help knowing to bo my. personal advantages. So I was in the best temper as I answered modestly: "Well, sir, nobody knows everything about all women; but I do think I know enough about a few to guess a good deal about what the rest may oe up to. I don't think I'm likely to bo come over that way. And I should think this little fellow," I added, showing him a new revolver, " will be enough for common odds, not in petti-

coats." "Don't putyouself in a position that 11 oblige you to use it," said my employer. " And you won't, if you keep clear o£ the common odds—in petticoats, you know. I must be off now. Call at my house for the

parure in an hour." Full of confidence in my own resources, proud of the trust that had been placed in me, and altogether in a well-satisfied and fearless frame of mind, I started with the Mouranov parure by the very next train for Dover. The magnificent p_arure was safely packed by my employer himself before my own eyes, and I placed the packet securely in a case which I had fastened round my neck and waist under my clothes with a couple of light but strong steel chains. In effect, the parure was absolutely safe from secret theft—effectually from any violence short of downright murder. Iliad bidden my mother and sisters a hurried good-by without telling even them of the invaluable charge I carried about me. And I arrived at one of the first hotels in Paris without the smallest adventure of any sort or kind.. To imagine that any of the fraternity of diamond hunters, male or female, had been watching my journey, or could even be aware of it, was simply absurd. To all with whom I came into any slight contact en route I must have been an ordinary Englishman, making an ordinary trip to Paris—nothing mora. And for that matter, except with booking clerks and so forth, I don't think I had exchanged a word with a fellow-creature all the way, That I had never once closed my eyes, I know.

11. I had just ordered some refreshment after my journey, before proceeding to .Les Bosquets, when " Monsieur Alfred Morris, from London? asked, one of the waiters. " Yes," said I, though wondering how my name could possibly he known to him, seeing that I had hut just arrived' ahdliad not even written my name in the list of

persons staying in the hotel. Was my " Yes " a piece of imprudence? I hardly know to this hour. "A young lady," he said, m English, "has been waiting for one hour to see monsieur." A young lady in Paris waiting to see me! What could that mean? My employer's warning came instinctively to my mind. But I could not very well refuse to see her; indeed, it might prove important that I should see her. And certainly no possible harm could come of my seeing her in a large and crowded hotel. ■ " Mademoiselle waitß in the salon, said

tho waiter. So to the salon I went, more curious than anxious about who the young lady might be who expected me in Paris and who knew my name so well. She was a stranger-a young French woman, rather pretty and exceedingly well dressed, and yet with something about, her that showed that she did not wholly belong to the beau monde, if that be the right term to use, for I don't pretend to be a French scholar. " Monsieur Alfred Morris, from London? asked she, in precisely the same words as the waiter, but in a voice and accent which made the words sound very differently indeed, and made the girl herself look really instead of only passably pretty. Indeed, hers was one of the sweetest voices I had ever heard. "At your service, mademoiselle, said 1, with a bow.

She smiled; and her smile was very sweet indeed. "I am truly fortunate,"she said. " I was beginning to fear you would never come." "And may I ask, mademoiselle, with whom " "Assuredly, monsieur. I am Made moiselle Lenoir, principal Demoiselle de Chambro of Madame la Princesse de Mouranov " "Ah!" sighed I, a little disappointed. It was no advonture, then—only the affair of the parure, after all. Still—well, con sidering everything, that was perhaps all tho better. Adventures till the receipts were exchanged would certainly be mala propos. "Yes; of Madame la Princesse do Mouranov," repeated she. "I am in all the confidence of Madame's toilet—you comprehend." She was speaking in very good English, with an accent that improved my native language, it seemed to me. " Madame received a telegram from Lon don from your firm saying you would be here to-day. It was a careful telegram, monsieur, and that was well. It is not prudent to let all the world know what you carry—without doubt nearest your heart, monsieur! Have I not reason—l ? _ But madamo has changed her plans—that is the habitude of madame. I always know what madamc will do next, for it is always what she will not say. She was for America last night; to-day she is for Biarritz. But she will want the pa—the affair monsieur knows of—all the same; all the more. Even so, she was goings to Les Bosquets ; in fine, she is not at Les Bosquets, but at the Villa Stef ania, her own little house, where she goes to be alone. Ah, madame will love to be alone at times—sometimes for one whole half hour, monsieur ! But she must have the parure on the instant and in her own hands, so I come from madame myself to conduct you to Villa Stefania without delft v»" An this was fully in accord with all that I had ever heard ot the eccentric restless ness of this great Russian lady, nor had I the faintest reason, after hearing of the • telegram from my employers, to doubt the simple good faith of so pretty and alto gether attractive a young lady as Madoin moiselle Lenoir. Still there was an obvious precaution I ought to take, and I did take lit, for I wish to make it absolutely clear that I acted in all respect as the most prudent of men could have done. " Mademoiselle will permit me to ask, said I, " simply as a matter of business form, if she has the written authority " " Of Madame la Princesse ? Assuredly, said she with a bright smile. "It is good to treat with amonsieur of the prudence of monsieur!" She handed me at once a little sealed note, perfumed and gracefully written, that ran as follows: Villa Stefania, January 12. Monsieur Alfred Morris, on the part of Messrs , will have the goodness to accompany the bearer, Mademoiselle Lonoir, to the Villa Stefania without any delay, there to execute the commission with which he is charged. Stephanie de Mouranov.

I have that note still to remind mo of But the end has not yet come. Suffice it that doubt, under the circumstances, never entered my mind; nor, I dare to swear, would it have entered the reader's had he to judge before the event, as I had to do. I found Mademoiselle Lcnoir an exceed ingly pleasant companion on the way to VQIa Stephania, which fancifully-named residence we reached in about an hour and a half, partly by rail and partly en voiture. I suppposed it some eccentricity on the part of the Princesse, that she did not, aa she certainly might have done, send us a car riage to convey us the whole way. Per haps she was one of those pedple who take a pleasure in little mysteries and point less conspiracies. Mademoiselle Lenoir talked the whole time about all sorts of things and places,- and I found her sympathetic, intelligent, aud" singularly well informed, as well as charming. I even began to flatter myself that I had made a by no means unsatisfactory im pression upon mademoiselle. Villa Stefania, where we arrived after darkness had fall6n, I could not very dis tinctly see ; but I made out that it was a small house, probably not long built, stand ing alone and apart from all other dwellings in a shrubbery, and approached through a tiny court past the lodge of the concierge. We were at once admitted, without any ringing or waiting. Mademoiselle con ducted" me up a staircase and along a passage, both scarcely half lighted, into a room so dark that I could scarcely see where I was, or anything at all.

" Imbeciles 1" cried Mademoiselle Lenoir. "Not a light in the Balon, not even a candle! That is how one is served when one has twenty servants, monsieur, each with his duties; we must have .a twenty first, to do nothing but see that the sconce shall not be empty in the salon—unless, perhaps, it shall be some fancy of madame for nobody to know you are here, I will see. Monsieur is a brave man ? He is not afraid of being left alone in the dark till madame shall arrive ? It will be in one moment, monsieur. Madame is anxious, very anxious, for the " I thought my being asked to wait in pitch darkness a little odd, but I could only say: "Biai. It shall not be long." And she was gone, closing the door behind her, if my ears told truly. Without believing in Bogy, it is not a pleasant thing to be left alone in a strange room in the dark, all the same—fancies will come into one's head, especially when the seconds grow into minutes without counting themselves on a visible watch face, andrwhen one has on one's person dia monds worth many thousands of pounds. Everything was all right, of course; and yet I could not help wishing that the Prin cess'Mouranov had received me at Les Bos

quets by the light of at least one candle, if not of day. And though I was but a trades man's employe, common French courtesy should not have kept me quite so lonswait inn for a light, even though a line lady might not be ready to see me tho very in stant I arrived. I felt, my way to a very comfortable sofa, on which I sat down', and waited on, waxing impatient and feeling rather like a prisoner condemned to the dark cell. Manners forbade me to doze or whistle, and— . But impatience was soon to change mto something more. 111. Was that sound of voices in the room or no ? If not iv the room, close to tho room it must have been; for I heard them plainly—sometimes darkness itself will plainly sharpen our ears, and there are certain, words which, once heard, sharpen thnna yet more keenly, I heard three voices. One was Mademoi selle Lenoir's. One was a strange woman's. The third was a man's. ' " Neatly trapped enough, said the last, so slowly in the German manner, that they brought their whole significance home to my dull British cars. " But for the rest," said Mademoiselle Lenior, "what ought one to do ? If he goes back to England— ~' "He must not go back to England, said the voice of the other woman -itwassingu larly cold, firm, and clear. "He must not leave France; he must not leave Paris till we are gone. Those diamonds " " If the worst comes to the worst," said the man, "what then? We are man to man. If he does not behave himself he will have to reckon with me. These things arc awkward, because of the police. But " "He will not resist," said Mademoiselle Lenoir. " And if he does " I though I heard a sigh, so sharp had my car grown. But from whence came the sigh ? Whether from Mademoiselle Lenoir or the other woman I could not. tell.

"If he does," said the man, "be it on his own head, whatever comes. You under stand me, my friend, I do not like too much blood, but if there be resistance there must be—what there must be. He must not trace the diamonds nor you."

It had all passed through my ears to my sinking heart long ago. Fool that I had been to listen to a woman's story, however plausible it might seem! Some plot, in vented and carried out with fiendish cun ning, had brought me into a den of robbery and murder. It was to wait for death in that lonely house and that horrible da(k chamber ?

What in the name of heaven, iii the name of desperate helplessness, was Ito do ? The voices grew confused, then ceased alto- f 3 then I was alone. Nobody knew me in aris; nobody would miss me there. If I did not return my employers would have set me down as having run off ■with the jewels. My mother and. sisters would believe me guilty and break their hearts and starve. Could I escape from the house ? Impossible—through unknown passages and a locked door!

Instiuctly I felt for my revolver, useless as it must be in a dark room. The mur derer or murderers, knowing the premises, could be upon me at any moment andhave me down oefdrc I could know of their ap proach, and one must havp some faint light for an aim. I had known that allsorts of atrocities are oven more common in Paris than in London, but how could I dream that such a doom as this, all for believing in the smooth tongue of a serpent, would ever be mine? I say I felt for my revolver, though knowing all the while how vain a toy it would be now. A knife for close quarters would be ten times its value, and that, too, would have been in vain. I don't think myself less brave than other men, yet I could not help a groan of despair at the thought that I was about to be murdered so helplessly, so hopelessly. How soon would it be?

I drew out my revolver and in doing so a a little fusee box, with a few wax matches in it fell on the floor. One moment's light would be something, though the last gleam I was ever to see. I groped for the box, found it at my feet and struck one of the matches. Heaven! what met my eyes ? The gleam of flame had come not a moment too soon.

Straight in front of me, coming_ towards me through au open, door, was as evil-looking a ruffian as I had ever seen; a murderous ruffian if ever there was one, hideously livid and with eyes that glared towards mine. Thank heaven for that one gleam of light. It might be enough for a straight aim. No time must be lost. lam no fighting man, heaven knows—but I fired. For a moment the smoke clouded my eyes. But I heard a cry. The flame from my match had not wholly died. _ I had not had one murderer to deal with. A whole gang of 'brigands were upon me and my diamonds. What was to be done ? Five more briganJs at least were there. "Well, I dared not pray for so hopeless a thing as life; but I would at least be true to my trust and sell it dearly. My name, m v honour, might yet be saved. First to rio-ht and then to left, I fired, and fired and fired again—twice—three times. And then the match went out and left me to the mercy of the robbers and cut-throats into whose hands I had been drawn by a woman's words. •_" Suddenly a blaze of light filled the room, so bright, that my eyes, till now blinded by darkness, were more blinded still. "What madman is here?" cried a woman's voice—that other woman's, not Mademoiselle Lenoir's. . "Oh! Oh !Oh ! My poor, dear beautiful boudoir ! Send for the gendarmes I" Was T. alive ? I suppose so, since I could still hear and see. And how can I describe ■ the scene that I beheld ? I was in an elegantly furnished room. On my left hand, with clasped hands, gazing at me with a face full of amazement, was Mademoiselle Lenoir. On my right, looking at me with wild looks of mingled anger, despair and terror, was a handsome lady, who resembled a queen of tragedy. " Oh Amelie 1" cried the latter. " Oh, Madame la Princesse!" echoed Mademoiselle Lenoir. • _ .. " My favourite clock," moaned the right hand lady. • .. " And three whole mir Mademoiselle was beginning, when I felt my arms grasped tightly behind my back and a man's stern, slow voice in my ear : " Are you a madman or brigand ? What does this mean ? Who are you that make havoc with the boudoir of Madame la Princesse de Mouranov ? Who, I say ?" I must confess it at last! lam a little near-sighted, and by the dim light of the match had mistaken the six-fold reflection of myself in the panels of an octagonal room liced with large mirrors for a band of murderers. And that talk of death and diamonds be hind the wall? Well, as I learned after wards, the Princess Mouranov, was, as it seemed half the world knew, busily occupied in flying from.the pursuit of a husband from whom she was trying to keep not only herself but her famous diamonds. Her eccentric movements had baffled him for long, but the temporary sojourn of her parure v. i;h our firm had nearly put him on the traces. Head the talk by the light of this and. you will understand—even the big talk of madame's champion, a German baron, who did meet the Prince in mortal

fight with swords and came off second best, ■with a gash that went through his sword arm. Who has got the diamonds now, 1 neither know nor care. But as for revolvers—well, if you must keep such awkward things at all you can t spend three shots from one better than in obeying the precept: Briaole miroir infldele Qai. vous cache la veritc. Smash every lying looking-glass, whether itltells you youare amurderer.orwhether—as is more common—it tells, you, as my own once upon a time used to teU me, that I was a handsome as well as a nearsighted man. Alas, since that terrible night no looking glass dares to tell me that I am handsome any more. For I never saw an uglier ruffian in my life than my own double seen by the light of that fusee.

Alone with the Gorilla.— Standing on the Crackling Stairs of a Burning Museum.

We heard from a straggler in the street that the fire was at Bamum's Museum. This gave renewed force to our feet, and we fairly flew along the street. When we reached ihe spot, what a sight was before us! The great building was ablaze on the two top floors, and several streams were already pouring water on it. The night, or rather morning, was bitter cold," and every bit of water that struck the lower part of the street would freeze at once. Even long stalactites of ice were beginning to form on the adjoining building 3 where the hose was played on them, and the red glare of the fire, now under, strong headway, lit them up like gold. The suffering animals within the museum, imprisoned and caged, began to mourn and roar. The fire, the ice, and the wild cries of the poor animals, made the night one of horror indeed. Just at this moment, with a great crash, right through a plate-glass window on the_ first floor, a splendid tiger sprang. He lit in the street, and stood for a moment at bay, and many a -voice in the crowd cried: '' Shoot him! shoot him!" We had given our hose to a steamer, and the water being just let iuto it, the fireman with the nozzle put the stream full against the animal. Its force and wash carried him off his feet, and a moment afterwards, "one of the finest," with a revolver, put two balls into his body and finished him. I then made my way into the burning building from the basement and sained the first .floor. A flight of steps was before me, and at the top I could through the smoke make out a door. I mounted the stairs to render what aid I could. As I got about the middle the heat warped and cracked the door, and it fell to one side, and there beyond, making right for these steps was the big gorilla. Oh, never shall I forget that dread moment. The big flames began to lick the walls.and the whole space beyond that dreadful beast was a blaze of fire. The heat and smoke were awful, and I felt my limbs shake as palsied as I looked spell-bound at the awful hairy mass at the top of the steps. I could hear the heavy thud of his huge foot as he moved or glided to the stairs. I could see his huge body writhe almost with heat. , The stairs •were narrow, and, great heaven > when he reached me what would become of me? I stood transfixed, spell-bound with an awful terror. One hand clasped the banisters and one the wall, and I could not have moved one finger on either of those hands to have saved my life. I heard still the shouts of the now maddened animals within the building. I heard the axes of the firemen breaking through the floors! I thought a thousand things in a second, but I could not move a hair s breadth! I even counted the steps be tween the monster and myself. There were but six—only six little short steps between me and grim death!_ The beast came slowly on, glaring horribly at me there were but four steps. Will he seize me itt those fearful arms.of his, thought I, from -which the matted, coarse nair hung, and toss me into the burning, seething mass of fire and flame beyond us? Another step he came. Oh, Heaven! but one little short step now. I made a superhuman effort *to move, if but a muscle; but, alas! I could not. The loathsome body of the brute touched, me. My breath came in gasps and my heart stood still, awe-stricken. One dread claw like hand griped upon my shoulder as the other arm of the wild beast was raised to his neck. He tugged there a moment as if for breath and strength. Now I sick ened and shuddered as he threw the great mass of hair and hide over his head and revealed-a roui?h Celtic face within, and asked in hurried, frightened and .strong Hibernian tones: "For the love of St. Patrick show me the way out of thia I

A Lost Parcel.

A WELL-KNOWN young society beau of Louisville, - virile travelling on an Indiana railroad recently, let his gallantry get the better of his judgment, and got himself into a nice little scrape. When he entered he entered'the car at New- Albany he found it nearly full, and he in stantly made for a seat nearly in the middle of the car, which was vacant. The seat in: ■front of him was occupied by a lady and a little girl, while just behind sat a young lady, who seemed to be alone. The lady and little girl got off at a small station about half way to Indianapolis. Just as the train ■was starting from the station the young man noticed a bundle of female clothing lying on the seat at his side. The idea instantly occurred to him that the lady who had just gotten out had forgotten the bundle. He thrust his head out of the window and called to her, but she was just entering the sta tion and did not hear him. The train had now started, and the young man thought that the bundle would be lost if he did not act quickly, so he picked it up and threw it out of the window on the platform. He then sank back on his seat ■••■with an easy conscience flattering himself that he had acted Jwith wonderful presence of mind. It went along smoothly until within a few miles of Indianapolis, wiien the young lady on the seat behind him began to show signs of restlessness, fche looked under the seat she>as occupying, on the seat behind her, and then on the seat on which • the young man was sitting. This search did not seem to satisfy her, and in a few moments she began to make in quiries of him—if he had seen a sniall bundle on anyone of the seats. The young man's hair began gradually to stand on end, and, for a few moments he was speech less as he began to realise what had become of the bundle. He did not dare to tell her what he had done, so he replied that he had seen nothing of it. This increased the young lady's uneasiness, and she made in quiries of the conductor, but he had not seen it. A lady in a seat just behind her finally asked if it was a very valuable bundle. "No," replied the young lady in an audible whisper, " but it contained my only night-gown."

At some of the hotels at Long Branch they charge you extra if you sit at your window and listen to the band playing at another hotel a mile away. Butr-then at some other hotels at the .same, resort, they charge extra for the window, \vhethei\ there is any band around it or not.

Satan Changing His Base.

It is to be hoped that the latest reports' about the operations of Satan are true, fot they haveanimportant bearing upon huma nity. It is said thai the arch enemy of souls has' recently been seen at BrOnn, Moravia, to thereat, disquietude of the in. habitants, acd that when the police were sent in seai>;!i of him he took refuge in the cathedral. Almost any sensible person, knowing the devil to be in church would suppose he was just where he ought to be for his own good and that of suffering huma nity, but policemen are different, and those of Bronn chased his Satanic Majesty out of the sanctuary. To their'surprise, how ever, he did not disappear in a sulphur breathing cleft of the earth opening sud denly fornis especial accomodatioh; on the contrary, he soared aloft in a dignified manner. This unexpected denouement is; full of interesting suggestion, for if eVen. Satan has changed his habits and found a celestial abode, there ought to be hope for everybody else.

Pursecution of the Jews in Russia.

Concerning the atrocities perpetrated by the bigoted persecutors of the Jews in Ger many and Hussia, the mail brings the fol lowing.news :—"Down to the end of June,, no fewer than sixteen towns, chiefly in habited by Israelites, have been wholly or partly burnt down this year. Four of these —Vitebsk, Bobruisk, Slonim, and Mohileff

—were places of considerable importance, each one owning a population of over 20,000 souls. The remaining twelve townships — Volkovisk, Novogrudek,. Lupt, Setel, Garadisb, Neustadt» Schirwindt, Augustovo, Ponivies, Kra« kauovo, Kvodom, Podselvi, and Radzk — numbered respectfully from 4000 ,t© 18,000 inhabitants. Since July 1, several other cases of arson have occurred, the moSt destructive of •which- took place in the cities of Korez and Minsk; During the great Korez fire, 1020 houses and shops were reduced to ashes, among them the Grand Synagogne, and eleven smaller places of worship. Thirty-nine persons were burnt to death, 5,000 were rendered homeless paupers, and nine-tenths of the whole population were left without a roof to cover their heads. The losses inflicted on the inhabitants of Minsk by the subsequent conflagration of that city, are estimated us at least thrice as heavy as those sustained by Korez."

Printedand Published by the Proprietor, Henrvt Brett, of Symonds-street, at his General. Printing Office, Wyndham-street, in the i?<b M vince of Auckland, New Zealand. Saturday. October 29, 1831.

STAR SATURDAY SUPPLEMENT, OCTOBER 29, 1881,

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WANTED, the Ladies to Know that I they can get a first-class selection of Gloves at J. Gilmour'sJUpper Symonds-stnict, •■ 2 and 4-buttoned Kid. Jersey, Lace, and a great ;jjj variety o£ Silk and Lislo Thread, in Ladies and Children's. . -•*' • TTPPER SYMONDS STREET CHEAP . ffl U GROOERY STORE. i J. HEAP, Family Gkocbb, 4 Corner of Symonds and East Streets,' ;■; \ [g selling Groceries and Oilmen's Stores FOR :.''.. cash as low as any house in the Trade. .Good Family Tea at 2s per lb; Excellent do. at 2s 8d; Bacon and Cheese as good and cheap as any house in town. ./ ' Trial and Inspection Invited,, H. H~~U G H E Si f FAMILY GROCER & TEA DEALER, DRAPER, HOSIER, AND HABERDASHER; Junction of Union and Wellington , Streets. ■ • ~ : ' I Goods of best quality at moderate prices.. A .;'a nice assortment of China and Earthenware } always on hand. Families waited on for orders. ,3 j Goods delivered. " M MR. J. ■■ .WRI GH T- I A Business Man of 25 years' experience,: [s now travelling on own account, also for " jj Importers, in the Leather, .Grindery, Sad- -i* dlery, Harness and Boot Trade, etc., an- v[ Wholesale Upper Manufacturers. - . j r\ LANVILLE & T7LLYETT TEA DEALERS :,' ■/>•■■:< },'.\ and FAMILY GROCERS, lU. QUEEN STREET, (Opposite the Union Bank), .... AUCKLAND. NEW SEASON'S TEAS, . ■ Highly Recommended. WIZARD OIL; isi* distinguishing; name, given by Frank westontoi his Medicine, wnich is composed of various Vegetable Oils; Healing Gums,, | Rare Balaams, Eoote, Barks and Herbs, (found only on the Great Amer ican Continent,) forming the Chemical Compound universally known ofr "Weston's Wizard OiL" This Medicine was first introduced, by Prank Weston, to the Australian. Public in 1864, and the wonderful and mysterious influence it exhibited in stopping the most excruciating Fains, Acnes and Infirmities, in a few days afterits use is well known. Its mirac ulous power in rising the Bed-ridden, Crippled,BheumaticNeuralgic,diveat ing the system of all suffering from pain, iTifln.TnTrm.Hnn and weakness, . curing in a few days the sickness and diseases of months and years giving instantaneous Ease and Comfort in all ordinary pains and aches, either inter nal or external, all cramps, spasms, congestions, &&, is well known. Weston's ■Wizard.Oil haßthepower HP' to distribute itßelf over every part of the body internally as well as extern- x ally, curing the most inveterate cases of tumors, ulcers, scrofula, diseased • liver, piles, swellings, wounds, &c.,&c. M KEMPTHORNE,r?PROSSER &, CO., .■ \ . ■■:':;: ■■ r; ■■■'< Agents,'" ■ ■':,':'.■ ■ ,■;. AUCKLAND.