PROBATION: A TALE OF THE LANCASHIRE COTTON FAMINE.

Br MISS JESSIE E-OTSERCULL,

Author of "Healey," "Aldyth," "Tha First Vi.olin," etc.

CHAPTER XLVI.

Dv dn, liogat mir im Herten ; Dv, <iv, liogit mir im Hlnn ; Dv, dn, raiohst mir vlel Sc>imeizen-- Weiss' nioht wio Rut toh Die bin. THE sped—the long silence—was broken at last. One evening, towards the end of -April, when he had been ae.ven months in ThansUope, he lust had any news of Adrieune. The Mallorys were in London, and bad been t'acre since the opening of Parliament in the beginning of February. Myles had all '(he work and responsibility at homo laid v pon his shoulders. His work for the day was over, aud the evening being fine, and the air plcasaut, he turned out for liis usual stroll ut> Blake-street. As he came nca.rcr to the house, he sawj a man standing ivi the garden, and as he ap proached s'iill nearer he recognised the man. He was Brandon, Mr Blifiset's old servant aud I&r :tcitum.

The windows in front of the house were all op en., aud glittering in the rays of an April sunset—mild and cool. Brandon was stand ing, looking meditatively towards that FAiusot, and towards the moors to whic ;k it formed a flaming background. His haiu Is were in lii< pockets, and he was soft tl y whistling a tune. IV I yles paused, and the man turned 'ov md. There was a mutual recognition. Br iimdou had boon three days in town, and li» k"I heard all the gossip there was—all a' b out Myles's changed position, and while I ie looked pleised to see an old acquaint : ancc, he touched liis cap as to a superior. Mylcs, wishing him goo.l evening, rested his elbow on the gate and said: " Are you living in Thanshope ?" " No, sir. I only came here for a few days on business." Myles was gratified that he could at Once satisfy the dcen yearning that lay at hia heart—to ask after Adrienne —and at the same time to do what was natural and

to be expected ; for who, if not her uncle's old servant, should know anything about her? He therefore inquired : "Do you ever bear anything of Miss Blisset now, since Mr Blisset's death? Brandon looked surprised. " Hear of her, sir! lam in her service." "In her sorvice ?" repeated Mylesi me-

chanically. " Yes. When my lato master died, Miss Blissct was good enough to say that she particularly wished me to remain with her unless I had other views, which I had not. I have served her and her family for thirty years, and I hope never to serve any other. 1' " I hud no idea yo^u had remained with her. lam glad to hear it. She must re quire a person to—an old servant, who will be like a Iriend to her as well." " Miss Blisset was .so kind as to say, when she asked mo to remain, that she looked on me as a friend. My wife and I are the only servants she has." "Ah ! How is Mi«s Blisset—or rather, how was she when \ou left her ?" "She was qui'c well, sir, thank you." "Docs she live in England?" " At present she is living in London, and we have been at Florence and Dresden." "Indeed. Does she mean to stay in London ?" "I thinkshe will stay there until autumn. Thcu she is going abroad with some friends. I am not sure where, but I think to | Italy. Moat likely she will take either my wife or me with her, and leave the other behind." " Then she does not think of coming to

Thanshope at all ?" "No. Her lease of this house expires directly, and hlio is not going to renew it. She has seen Mr Mallory in London, and made arrangements to give it up. I have oomc to see about storing the furniture-" "Yes. When Hhall you bo returning?" "In about three days, sir, I expect." " The house will then be empty ?" "Yea." There was a pause. Myles's heart was beating. Brandon was looking at him in quiringly, as if he awaited some further word or some message to be delivered to his mistress. Hut Styles dared not send any message. He could not forget how ho had ignored her own message to him, though head and heart alike cried out that ho was wrong. In ordinary concerns he was clear headed and practical enough; where his love for Adrienne stepped in, Mb nature seemed changed—he became timid, ncr tous, and lost self-conlidcnce. To have sent a mere conventional phrase of com pliments or kind regards would, it seemed to him, have been deliberate, insolent bra vado—after what had passed. If lie could have seen her, if she would have spoken to him, he might have confessed his fault and begged her pardon, but there was no word, no message that he could send through even the'imost trusted of old servants through a»y third person. After a few more words with Brandon, he wished him good-night and moved on, leaving that worthy man to think how ill mannered lie was. "And he used to sit

and look at my young Itidy in a way that anyone must have nnticeiy1 thought Brim don rather indignantly. Myles walked homewards, deciding in his own mind that lie would not go near Blake-street ngain until after Brandon should bo gone. He pictured Adrienne ill London, with plenty of friends, visiting theMallory*,happy-the man had given no sort of hint that she was not happy. Sup pose, lie happened to bo in London, to be m thasamc room with her, to pass her in the street. Ho bad forfeited the right to claim her acquaintance; he did not think lie would have the courage to address her. He had made a great mess, a horrible mistake, when 'lie repulsed that advance of hers ; for that it had been an advance there could be now no doubt, since there had neyer been anything between her and Sebastian Mallory. What a shock, what offence that behaviour of his must have caused ,her. The dead silence which had supervened on her part showed how she must have taken it.

His heart ached a good deal as he walked towards his home. What profited him all this solitary, lonely prosperity ? I£he could have exchanged it all for one morel of those evenings at Stonegate in the old days—for one more of those "lances from. AVlricunc, which used to intoxicate him winh their half frank, half-timid expression—ha would have flung all he had to the. windsi and begun life again to-morrow, if he c*uld have sem hci ohcc again betrayed tfnto such a look, such a tone as that witlu which she had said, "Oh, Myles!"one Sunday after noon. But that would never be, \ She, too, had found tliat Thanshope was\ not the place for her. She would new\ conic to Stonegate again- When next he*iw it, it would be empty, dismantled, a sh&U. He wondered—and immediately felft eager jtfeit & should be «>—whether Serawtian

Mallorv -would let him have Stoncgato. SeTo was™ other place in which he cared to live. A fear seized him, lest it mignt already have been promised to someone else lie hastened his steps, and as soon as lie got in wrote to Sebastian, and dropped She letter with his own hand into the letter box He had written urgently. IE Mr Mailory had not already disposed ot Stone gate, might he, Myles Hcywood, become Us tenant, at whatever rent Mr .Mailory pieced, even to the half;? ha.towmeT Repairs and everything of that kind (he mixed up husiness and sentiment m a horrible jumble) were to be his concein aud his alone. Aud might he have an answer soon ? He did not care whether the reasons of his eagerness were guessed or not by OC bastian. By return of post he had an answer : "DcarHcywood,-I am glad you find there is something you seem to care mncli about outside business. Since Miss Blisset is leaving Stonegate, I could have no other tenant so desirable as you, andl assure you applications have not Uowcd m with the rapidity you seem to think. You are at liberty to take possession as soon as she vacates, which I suppose will be a few days from now, It is not a residence which 1 should have exactly chosen out from among all others, but chacun a son gout.-Yoius truly, »ii- Myles carried this note about with him in his breast-pocket, as if it had been a magic talisman. lie studiously adhered to his resolution not to go near Blake-street till the three days of which Brandon had spoken should had elapsed; but the shadow of the deserted house " haunted linn like a passion—a longing, intense and increasing, concentrated his thoughts upon that "house, and heath, and garden, the "phantoms' of which had been "so dear to him crcwhile." Not until the fourth evening after Ins interview with Brandon did he again take his way along the familiar street. It was even such an evening as that earlier one. The air was mild, the sun, now de clining, had been bright-all nature smiled, It was growing dusk as he drew near the house. Why was his heart so low? Why had he such a great sensation of loneliness —of being cast adrift ? Why did the sad words of a sad song ring in his ears, and seem to be borne in whispers to him with i each breath of wind—

Away I away! to thy sad and silent home, Pour bitter tears on ita desolated hearth! Watch tho dim shades, as UKO ghosts they go andcomo, And complicate strange webs of melancholy mirth. The loaves o£ wasted autumn woods shall fall about thino hoad, Tho blooms tof dewy spring shall gleam benoath thy foct, But thy soul or this world must fado in tho frost that binds tho dead, Ere midnight's frown and morning s smile, cro thou and peace, may meet.

He felt the idea dreadfully prophetic ; ho felt as if that were the fate he had selected for himself, as he at last rested his arms upon the homely wicket of tbat lonesome abode, and looked towards the front of the house, He^was prepared for closod shutters, melancholy wisps of straw, and scraps of paper—doors bolted and barred— such db mark with a brand not to be mistaken the deserted house. What he beheld was an open door and an open window—the window to the right hand : he could see that the hall was stripped of its fittings—that the windows wera curtaiuleßS, but the house was not empty—as yet its hearth was not "desolated.

What is that moring within the room ? A figure ; perhaps one of " the dim shades as like ghosts they go nnd come." So dull are our senses, when night is falling, that even he did not recognise whose form it was ; it waa not to a sight, but to a sound, that his ncrrcs suddenly thrilled, and his senses became tenso and ulert.

As he stood, a chord was struck upon a piano within— another. A slight shiver shook him, hut still lie was not convinced until a voice floated out—the soft melodious voice which he know in every fibre of his heart, not loudly, but with a subdued in tensity of feeling which made him absolute ly tremble. For the song she sang brought hopes, doubts, fears,—and again wild and tremulous, chaotic hopes, crowding into hii mind. It was the homely old German "Volkslied"-

Uu, dv, liegst mir im Herzcn. To every word his heart throbbed, as she apostropluscd'with the abandon of one who believes herself unheard and unlistened to, that absent one— Thou, lovo, shrined in my heart, Thou, lovo, shrined in my mind ! and sang how lie " caused her much pain, and know not how much he was loved." A pause after that, till she went on to the socond verse- So, love, con as I lovo thee, So, so, by theo I'd bo lovod. "For," said the song, "I mu>t ever be drawn most tenderly towards thec." (Die, die. zartllchsten Triebo Fuhlc ich owlß auf Dlch.) Towards thee—towards whom ? Her voice vibrated, almost failed, as she went on with a sad, pondering accent, to the Sfwondcr expressed in the third verse, as to whether he, that absent one of the careless spirit, might be trusted, as lie might trust to her ; and the notes swelled out again— Weiaa nicht wio Kut ich dir bin. Myles's head had sunk down upon his arms. The wonder, the mystery, the wild hope, that came surging over his heart almost unmanned him, and still the voice floated out, as she Bang the last verse of the song. Could it be ? Might he dare to hope that as she chose that hour, that place, that song in which to express her feeling, that it was he—for she wns Hinging now— My lovo. when in tho distance In dreams thy face I see. My heart with fond insistanco Tunis evermore to thee. Whose face ? Her voice had faltered with the energy of her own feeling, on the last lines— Dann, dann.Vunsch ich so Kerne. I)tiS3 Uiiß die Liobo voroint; She sang the last cadences again, as if she could not leave them, as if weary of waiting and separation— Ja,ja,ja,.iu! Dass uns die Liobc vereint!

With a heart full of the wildest, most chaotic doubts, wonder, surmise, Myles stood, his head raised again, his dark eyes burning, as their wont was when he was agitated, upon the open window. The dusk was too deep now for him to see anything in the room.

His brain, his heart, all of him was thril ling with the aspirations conveyed in the last untranslatable words of the song—the passionate, simple, primitive— Dass un 3 die Liebe vereint. He saw nothing, heard nothing, until a footstep paused, as if arrested in surprise, beside him—a figure interposed itself be tween his eyes and the window at which he was gazing "Adrienne!" The name fell, like a sigh, without his will or wish, almost without his knowledge, from his lips. He scarcely knew himself, or where he was, or anything, except that she stood there, and had paused,* stopped, was looking at him. It was light enough to see that she had recognised him on coming close to him, and that, when their eyea met, she wsa trembling.

When she looked into his face, her own fumed paler, and a startled " Oh ! tell from h For Pa moment they lwtli stood silent thus. Then, Myles, seeing that she still trembled and looked startled remembered suddenly Where be was and how it all was. He bared his head and stood before her, saving, in a low voice : "Pardon me! I forgot! I will not in trude. I did not know you were here. He turned to go, was absolutely moving, when she herself opened the wicket gate, and said in an indescribable toue : " Will you leare me without one word, as before ?" , The tremulous appeal was a command. He entered the garden, looking at her, as it awaiting a direction from her; but at last he said : , , " It was that which made me fear to look at you. I can scarcely believe you will speak to me. Do you mean," he added, with a sudden appeal in his voice, " do you mean that I may come in, and—talk to YOU ?" For all answer Adrienne held out her ridit hand, and closed the wicket with the other, so that they stood together within the garden, Myles took that hand, but he could not at first speak. " Miss Blisset, I behaved unpardonably— like a ruffian—two years ago. I do not deserve your forgiveness." They had been moving towards the house, and they now stood within the almost dis mantled drawing room, by the open piano. . , "At first," said Adrienue, in a voice that still trembled, " I thought I never could forgive you. It was cruel on your part

"It was brutal— unpardonable."

"No; you were mad with grief—l knew it afterwards—and you could not know what I had to say to you." "What was it?' he asked, below his breath, "It was to say good-bye, and something more—to say that I feared I had been un kind ; I had seemed to desert you—in your trouble, but that it had not been so in reality, for I had thought of you constantly; and," she added steadily, " to tell you, too, that I had heard something—that some report had been sot going about you aud me

"You heard that! It was to spare you that—it was because I was almost mad at the thought " "It was to tell you that I prized your friendship beyond all those slanders, and that nothing could ever shake it. I did wish to tell you that; but after you were gone, after you had left me in that manner, Myles, I dared not write." " Fool that I was ! But I have been pay ing the price of my folly for two years with out'eeasing. Tillseven months ago I believed you were going to marry Sebastian Mal lory. You may suppose I was anxious for nothing so much as to be silent—to hear nothing of you." Adrienne made no answer, till Myles said :

'' And now you are going to leave Thaus hope ?" "Yes, forever." " You have come to say good-bye to the old place ?' " I never meant to come. Brandon found some difliculties about the arrangements I wished him to make, and telegraphed for me. I came this afternoon, and am leaving again to-morrow morning." Adrienno had lost her self-command, as he gained more of his. Her voice shook uncontrollably, and she leaned her elbow on the top of the paino. "I shall always feel happy that I have been able to see you, to tell you that, whether you forgave me or not, I havo repented, and do repent, my chur lishness, and to thank you for your —your unspeakable kindness to a rough, stupid, clumsy, fellow like me," said lie. " Your great goodness and your geutlc in fluence will go with me through my life ; and—may you never know a sorrow or care as long as you live !" The aspiration appearod useless, for Adrienne had buried her face in her hands, and was weeping with a quiet sorrow that had something of despair in it. " But before I go," he added, "will you answer me a quostion ? Perhaps I have no right to ask it, but I must. I have been listening to your singing; 1 heard every word."

"Yes," was the almost inaudible an> swer.

"Tell me if you had someone in your mind when you sang that song," " Yes," said Adrienne, still scarce above her breath. "You had!" he exclaimed, and forgot the solemn farewell, the almost benedic tion, he had just bestowed upon her, while he hurried his words out desperately " Oh, Adrienne ! forgive me if lam too presumptuous ; but hare mercy ! Tell me, when you sang, ' Dn, dv, liegst mir im Herzen ' But I am too bold—l " "Do not look at me so strangely 1" she began, raising her tear-stained face. "Tell me Ah !" she suddenly exclaimed, as with one movement they clasped each other, "it is you,Mylcs—it was always you; but you were so dreadfully proud." "Do you mean," he asked, after a, long pause, "that if I had come to you that night—if I had forgotten myself, and told you, as I felt sure that I should, that I loved you, and that no ' friendship ' could be anything but a wretched mockery to me —do you mean that then you would have taken Hie, ruined and wretched, and with out one bright thought or one hope for the future ?"

"If you had come then, and told me all that, you need not have gone away without hope, and I should have spent a different two years than 1 have done. But it is all right now," she added. "The probation is over, my love, aud you have borne it bravely."

"If you think so, it must be so ; but at the time, I assure you, I felt anything but brave. Now I fed—l feel at rest," said Myles. There was silence. The darkness gathered. The air blew softly in at the window, and bore with it the faint sound of an old tune, in broken, melodious chimes.

The Exd,

Nautical Incident.

A NOISE was heard on deck, the dog watch sprang from his caboose, seized the gig whip, and, laying it over the dead eyes of the buoy, made him shin up the bowsprit, catch hold of flic skyscraper, which he used so freely on the keelson that he rubbed off the shoe of the anchor, which was caught by the cat harpings, who commenced to spanker with the boom till she burst through the stays, cutting the topsail eye out of the Turk's head, caught the ship round the waist with one hand, boxed the compass with the other till] the cook cued, and the captain applied the leaches of the foresail to the inflamed eye of the astonished needle.

Things Which Annoy One.

To «ct fairly out of the house and find you "have forgotten the very thing you meant to lake with you. To feel yourself sinking in the arms o* Morpheus and be attacked by the last mosnuito of summer. To "et yourself snugly settled in your seat ai?d your baskets, bundles, packages, valise, umbrella and bird cage all stored away in the rack and before and behind you on adjoining seats, and then to dis cover you're in the wrong car. To sit next the talking young couple at the theatre. To find that the fascinating stranger you introduced to your friends has bor rowed money, and made a clean sweep of them all around. To see yourself in a lucid moment as others see you. To remember next morning your mis placed confidences, divulged secrets and general brag last night when m your CUTo look at the same time in your purse and find your worst apprehensions realized. To buy "something handy to have in the house," and to be told by your wife on tak ing if home that you've paid twice too much for a poor article, To lind something so cheap, "just what you want," and then to forget the number ot the store where kept when you do want to buy it. To put something away for sate keeping so carefully that you can't find it again. To sit down hungry at the restaurant and wait fifteen minutes before you can catch a waiter. . To fix your mouth for a favourite dish and after waiting teu minutes more to be told " It's all out, sah !" To be told of the presence of wrinkles on your face {.when you know they're^ only dimples. ~r . .^-^™-t:tA'':«E!/i:"''°l?i;E*3~ -'- . To have the septuagenarian, who all your life has been as an old man to you, squeak out to you, " Well, you're getting old like the rest of us."

To talk with the man who at every re mark you make or question you ask, says, " Hali!" after the exploding of which ex pletive you must say it all over again. To hear people you have tried to help complain of the unfriendliness, coldness and indifference of the world in general. To be always putting your knife or pencil in the wrong pocket and going through all the rest before you find them. To stow your railroad ticket carefully away in some secret recess of your clothes, and then forget it, aud at regular intervals be seized with a spasm of fear that you have lost it, consequent on which comes a spell of frantic rummaging until you find it. . To attempt in one day more business ot various sorts than your mind can giasp or your hands can handle. To lie to your friend or enemy and be found out. To order groceries for dinner and have them sent two hours after. ' To be told you are growing old when you know you are growing young. To have your purchased corsets sent to your address, aud wliiledressing for the party to find them one size too large. Always too To be told by advisory friends that you ought not to do so and so when you haven t done anything of the sort, and then to be told you ought to do thus and so when you have all along been doing it.— Graphic.

All Sorts of Items.

A fasuion journal says that plump girls are no longer popular. If a man calls another a rail spelled back wards, he is said to rail agaiost him. Wicked New York men want to be buried in Greenwood, because it won't burn so quickly as the dry. Ernestine writes: "Would you like a poem on Christinas'." "Certainly, dear Ernestine—say on Christmas, anno domini 3543." , ~ •, A smoke consumer for chimneys has gone into use in Cincinatti. Wonder if the invention could'nt be applied to young men who smoke cigarettes oa the street cars. Spurgeon has ad rice for the man who marries a shrew, and says that when a man catches a tartar or lets a tartar catch him, ho must take his dose of tartaric acid and make as few ugly faces as he can. It is feared that the enormous manufac ture of wooden toothpicks is utterly destroy ing the forests of America, but, then, the; young man who spends all hi% salary for good clothes must nave something to eat. The scheme of polar exploration by bal loon is very seriously discussed. It has its advantages. In the absence of fuel the voyagers could easily warm themselves by setting fire to the gas. That would leave nothing to be desired. A young Oil City lady recently visited New York, and'when she returned home related to her friends how she stopped at a "palatable hotel and went up and down stairs in a cultivator." Her parents should cultivate her.

Josh Billings disposes of Colonel Bob In gersoll in the following quaint manner : "I wouldn't give five cents to hear Bob Inger soll on ' The Mistakes of Moses,' but would givo five hundred dollars to hear Moses on the mistakes of Bob Ingcrsoll."

The Gatcsville "Sun" has a new editor. He says he enters on his duties with " an imperious consciousness of a personal com mittal to the high moral responsibilities incident to a position recognised by in telligence and morality as a representative and t .rinate entity.moulding and vitalising the intelligent constituency who perpetuate by prerogative its existence." A young attorney, a day or two since, having delivered himself of v speech in the Superior Court, asked the Clerk if he could smoke in the room. " Yes," was the reply. A pipe was hauled out and the gentleman was busily engaged in building smoke columns in the air, when the Judge laid a S5 line upon him. " I thought you said I could smoke here ?" inquired he indignantly of the Clerk as soon as he got his breath. " I did," was the reply, as that busy officer proceeded with his minutes. "Didn't you smoke ?"

Dionysius Lardner's Mistake.

A few days after my return Dr Lardner called, and wo had a pleasant chat. He re gretted my early departure, but said I must dine with him before going. Among other topics, I deplored the necessity of my again crossing the Atlantic under sail, but hoped the time was not far distant when steam would be adopted, "There is little pros pect of that," said the man of science em phatically. "A steamer would never be able to contend successfully against the mighty power of the Atlantic. The machi nery would be disabled ; the wheels would be rendered useless; the coal she would be obliged to carry would leave no room for cargo; and mere passenger traffic would never defray the expenses of such an enterprise. " I admit your high authority," I retorted, "for who has written so ably on steam propulsion ? But in spite of your prognostics, you know they are building a steamer at Bristol, and another at London, to put the experiment to a test; and if either was ready I would readily take the risk, to escape the dreary

ordeal of a sailing vessel." "It is astonish, ing," remarked l>r. L., '' that people will be so silly as to put money iatosuchexperi ments. It will end in failure, and probably in a dreadful catastrophe. Take my advice and stick to your splendid ' liners.1 Better pass an additional week at sea than never reach the shore "

The Salvation Army and the Roughs in England.

FOR two years or thereabouts, ont have had frequent opportunities of nessing au exhibition not to everybody , taste. The •' Salvation Army, "as fat „ ; it can be known to the uninitiated, consul oiii band of meu marching ihrqugb. th a ' ■ streets, generally toward church-time, with banners, devices, and sometimes emblem, atic helmet! and other accoutrements, sing, ing sensational hymns, and by their geg. tures inviting all whose eyes they suc ceed in catching to fall in and march with • them to the headquarters or rendezvous of those who are to be saved. The worship they conduct under cover is not quite of the sober and monotonous character that iinds movt favour with English respecta«. bility. The confident heirs of a newly as sured salvation sing hymn after hymn with emphatic refrains, in an ascending scale of devotional energy. At intervals cxhorta. tious which are at least simple, intelligible, and frequently reiterated, restore their flag, ging energies for fresh multitudinous utterances. The sense of numbers amounting to an army_ if no t on the spot, yet in faith, every where present, feeds the strength of the in. dividual. The devotees are told, very likely with truth, that hundreds of thousands are at the same moment march, ing towards Zion, scouring her bulwarks, ascending her steeps, and even entering her gates. It is plain that the enthusiasm does not always die away when these provoca tives are' withdrawn. It is plain, too, that the movement has not lost the attractive ness of novelty and youth. The army is still found on our streets. It is not to be expected that even so much as a good minority of a settled and well regulated population should take part in such a movement, or like it, or even regard it with indifference. A very large part of our own population on one ground or other, believe themselves saved already, and there, fore under no need to go out of their way for a new call. A large part are very well' satisfied to be in a fortunate minority in this respect, and take an exclusive view of the celestial circle. About the last thing, they desire is to meet their neighbours there, especially if they are not clean, or talk broad, or cannot distribute their h's properly. A large part are quite content not to be saved; indeed, think there is no such tiling. If these various classes be added together, they will constitute an immense majority against the " Salvation Army." Most of these people,; however, are ready to leave it alone. They will be neither for it nor against it. But there remain the irrepressible " roughs." It is unnecessary to describe them, for they promise to be our lords and masters.; They are the present tyrant, whose func- ■ tion it is to test the sincerity of the vir tuous and the gratitude of the brave. It is with them that the "Salvation Army" is now waging its only physical warfare. Eng lish people generally would leave it to the ■ test of time. The men that stagger out o£ the public houses, or that have not yet re covered from their Saturday night's carouse, or that dread some possible interference with their own ways, molestthcseharmless soldier with insulting cries, mockery, and more' serious annoyances. The faith of the majority, the good taste of the educated, and the universal sense of decency are oyiV raged under the pretence ot interrupting the exceptional methods of a few. But it W. ovident that [if the "roughs" are to be allowed to do what they like, the streets can no longer bo called the Queen's high way or land her realm. —" London Times.""

Stopped the Proceedings-As Told by the Plaintiff in Laramie.

"I CAME in to tell you this morning that you miuhfc as well stop them proceedings in. chancery for a bill of divorce, said a soft eyed thing about 27 years old, as she came into a Laramie lawyer's office yesterday. "Decided to live together as man and! wife again, hay!" " No, not that. Not that. You see Obadiah strolled away to Leadville two years ago, and kind of give me aud the kids the grand shake. Since then I've been' rustlin" in my gentle unobtrusive manner to make a stake. I've wrote to him I occasionally whenever I had leisure, and. kind of rounded him up for not chipping in . with his assessment, but he never repra- "

sented. ■■' "That kind of irritated me, and I asked you last wosk to get me a divorce. If I paid all the assessment myself, I thought twould be no more than square to get all the dividends. But this morning I got news from Leadvillc that has changed my notion a little.about the divorce." " Sent you some money, did he!" " No, not that. He didn't even •write to mo; but 1 got a paper with a big blue mark around a piece in it, which conveys the intelligence that Obadiah was hung there on the 10th by request. " It seems that he got to jumping lots and stealing horses between meals, and people got down on him, Then he salted a claim over on Buckskin, and sold it for §10,000 to a tenderfoot from away down East. "He made several flowery breaks like that, and the popular feeling seemed more or less turned against him. Several weeks ago Obadiah stole a pair of big mules from a man who belonged in Kokomo, and next night went back to get a neck-yoke and monkey-wrench that belonged to the wagon, and happened to run right into a passle of vigilantes lookin' for a job. They took Obadiah over to a tall limber tree, and let him stand on a bronco pony plug under the lowest limb while they tied a clothes line around his windpipe. . " Obadiah told them he was'nt much or. a bareback rider, and he did'nt know whether he could do the trick or not. They slid the clothes line over the hmb and hit the bronco a lick with a quirt. " The bronco was a high life plug, and had been raised in luxury, so he got mad when they hit him, and he lit out some, That left Obadiah in a good deal of sus pense. He wriggled around a litde and got embarrassed, and did't seem to know what to do with his hands for awhile. Then he became more calm and composed in his manner, and the crowd made a pre sent of him to the coroner. 1 wrote to tne authorities to send me his checkbook ana a statement of Obadiah's bank account, and Whatever you're out on his divorce hooraw will be all right, understand. ■ l a rather let the Almighty and the «^ ---antes fix up my law Dimness than w «c of old age waiting for Chancery, anyhow. That's the kind of grief-stricken relic 1 am. "—Boomerang.

Not much conadence can be felt v* Egyptian securities when the property am he hands of Shcrif 'a officers.

STAR °»™™mv STTPPT.EMMT, JANUARY 14, 1882.

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Visitors to Auckland should have their prescriptions dispensed at the English Pharmacy, 184, Queen-street. —Austen W. Gardner, M.P.S., Eng., Pharmaceutical Chemist—[Advt.]