•'Yes, but I do care," returned Amy quickly. "If I could stoop so low as to be your wife upon such terms, I could not he your friend, Matthew Helston may be lost for ever, but his honour remains with mc a sacred trust. I will join hands with none who doubt it. Affection, gratitude, justice, all forbid it, Henceforth we aro strangers, sir."

" You never loved mc I" exclaimed the young fellow vehemently. "Did I not?'' she answered with a bitter smile. " Then my heart deceived me. If it be so, so much the better for us both."

"And you can ppcak to me like that? O Amy ! " There was a reproach in his voie. as deep as hers, and far more tender. It would have astonished his partner in the City to havo seen Mr Frank Barlow at that moment, anl would have greatly shaken his professional confidence in him "I did not moan to be unkind," she answered gently. "But-1 must speak the truth. If Matthew'is a thief "—it was stransre with what persistence she repeated this hateful phrase, as though it had some morbid attraction for her—"so help me Heayen, I will never marry you "

He looked at her a moment with despairing eyes, then suddenly their expresssou altered—it grew fierce and wolfish

"But parhapn you will marry somebody else ?"

"I! What docs he mean? Sis I am not quite myself," she added pitifu'ly. "I do not understand you."

" It is no matter," he sad, with a deep flush; " I was not quite myself, perhaps, either, I will leave you for the present, Amy."

"For the present, nnd for ever, Mr Bir low," she answered quickly. "I do not wish—l could not bear it—to see your face again. All is over between you and me. It i_ not only that," she added hastily, see ing he was about to speak; " I will not ■endure the presence of anyone (if I can help it) who thinks as you think of Matthew. It would be treason to him."

It was curious to see how, when she spoke of her brother-in-law, the strength and firmness which had failed her when she spoke of herself seemed to return to her. Sne was firm now, and pointed .to the door with a steady hand.

Twice Mr Barlow essayed to speak, and twice altered his intention ; at last, with a deep sigh, ho moved slowly out of the room, and closed the door behind him. His hat and coat hum; in the hal, and he put them on like one in a dream and left, the hous-. " Had she ever really loved him ? " was the qu»etion he was putting to himself all the time. If he could have looked into the chamber he had just left, he would have found bis answer. Having locked the door, Amy sank down in the nearest chair, and, hidim. her face in herhands, burst into the first passionate tears »he had shed since her childhood. "Oh, Matthew, Matthew I" she sobbed, "yon have not done that which even good men lay to your charge, but you have broken your sister's heart."

Pat Mulligan's Trip to the Wai takerer Falls.

An diuaiNA- Dialogue.

Shamns : I say, Pat, was it you who was drownded yesterday at Waithakery Falls, by the great flood of wathcr ?

Pat: Divil a one else but myself. Troth, it is a misthery how 1 survived, for I was drownded complately.

Shamus: By the holy poker, Pat, you must tell me the whole advinture.

Pat: Well yon sec, Shawms, when I left you I scampered ofFfor the thrain, and got landed at a place called Hinderson's Mill, but devil a mill it is at all. at all, It's nothing more than a wild boggy country. We then started a ten-mile tramp to these falls through mud and over hills shuro no Christian ever had the making of; and begorra 1 I know at this minute we were mighty cl»se to the sun, for tho hett was so intense. Skamus : Mnrthcr .' but your skin must have bosu powerfully strong and thick to boari- Pat: Shurc it was. But let me tell you we reached a house and we had some tea. The fellow who <'avc it us was, you know, ooe if thos3 kind-hearted and brave chaps with Irish hlood iv his veins. ShaJiHJs : Troth I knew it was a Irishman before you tow-Id mc. Pat.- And then Shamus,'my chum', Old Kilkenny, a great owner of property in Auckland, myself, and three others,'con tinued w jouriiey over what they call the ranges, but what I call equators. _—tmus : Tell me Par, was it not the whisky bottle that mads you so high spirited ? Pat: Whisky 1 Be jabers I tumbled on the w»y and broke one bottle; and our leader, glntton as he was, drunk the other in the train unknownst to us, Shamn-. : Shure th»n you could not have been very seasick with whisky. Pat: Don't interrupt me, Shamu'. After struggling with the inimy (the ranges), and pretry near breaking our backs rowling down part af the way, we got to the falls, and Holy Mother ! but it was a great sight, Shamu*. The wather came rowling down like murther,and the divilonly knows where it came from. But the great thing that puzzled me was the colour. It was as white as buttermilk, and thinking this the Irish blooi boiled within me, so in I jumped to get a swig ; but, be jabers it hurled me under, and faith I thought I was in eter nity till! came to the top. Shanius : Bnt Pat, you're a brave boy ! Had you b en anything but an Irishman you would have been droM-nded entirely. Pat; Well wo statted back; so our leader after drinking so much whisky lost the triwk, and by all that is good and holy it must havo boon a spirit that directed us. Was it not for the good heart of some un seen guide we should have perished. Shanuis: Man, but you were very near the end of your tether, Pat. Pat: Troth we were. It wa3 awful to see my comrades like a lot of dumb ani mals crawling on their knees, hanging on by thei: teeth to branches of trees and hug ging the roots three times as rauch.Shamns, as you did that Irish girl you left in the oul'd country. Shamu-1 : The spirit must then have been mighty s1 rong in them. Pat: It was, and shut-* it was as stroD<j as onld Nick when we got back to tha onld house and had another cup of tea. They jigged the toy down th^ir throats at such speed that the roof of onld Waitakerei's mouth gave way and threatened to form another anal beyant his throat Shamns: There is great danger in over loading yo.tr throat. But tell me, Pat, how did the journey end ? Pat:Affcr feeding our stomaelm we started for the thrain and it was only by the skin of our teeth we caught it. We then thravellotl in a first-class carriage to Auck land, covered with mud from bead to fut, and ever since they've beep plaguing me about how I liked my dip in the buttermilk at Waitakory 1

Extraordinary Frauds.

A YOU-.CJ WOMAN IMPERSONATE- A

NOBLEMAN.

A REJIA-KAB-E series of frauds, in which tho credulity of the victims appears to have been equalled by the audacity of the ad ventures who betrayed them, is now under investigation at Birmingham. No case of late years has presented more astonishing features, or created greater interest. The police court on February 23, when another remand was asked for, was besieged at day break, and every seat was occupied long before the proceedings commenced. It is too so m to attempt a complete and authori tative statement of the fact*. They have yet to be submitted to judicial scrutiny. Already one who was accounted a victim lms been placed in the dock as an accom plice. Tbe discovery of a voluminous cor respondence may throw further light on doubtful points, and modify the details of the story as it was at first related. But sufficient is known to warrant a general outline. The ko.nest interest has been aroused by the fact that the heroine of this imposture declared herself to be Lord Arthur Pelham Clinton in disguise, and traded upon her dupes by means of iorged letters from Lord Coleridge, the Prince of Wales, and even the Queen.

The woman Furneaux, -who is charged with the amazingfrauds, is belie.ved to have taken lodgings in Birmingham some six or seven years ago. Here she made the ac quaintance ot a man named Fowell, who carried on tho business of a mechanic.l "fitter." She was then known as Miss Proderica Elliott d« Furneaux, and repre sented hcself as the daughter of a Lady Butler. Her mother, who seems to havo been as much deceived in many particulars us the rest of the world, now explains that on her side she was in reality the great granddaughter of the Hon. John Butler, brother ot the Earl of Lanesborough, and that her father was at one timo iv the Lou don Custom-house, served for tour years in the Artillery, and was subsequently fir a brief period a member of the Wolverhamp ton police force. As Miss Furneaux, sr.c so far enlisted the sympathy of Fowell that he was induced to advance her considerable sums of money. Fowell himself soon after wards became posso»sed of property by legacy from an uncle, including a colliery at Harplow, in Cheshire. Removing thither, he and his wife received the adven turess and entertained her for some time as a lady of rank. She now professed herself heiress to great wealth, and showed let ters from Lord Coleridge and others to justify her ass*rtions. It i. stated that "on one occasion the postman deliveted at Harplow an official-looking letter addr-ssed to Miss Furn-aux, who said it was from the Prince ot Wales, who wa< interesting him«oJf in ths'mattcr of her estates. Wi.hin the lar.e envelope, which bore a foreign postmark, was another envelope, containing the Royal communica tion. Upon each comer of this second envelope, was a Royal device and the Prince of .Wale* feothers. This letter waa signed 1 Guolph,' and as far a* is now remembered it set forth that the Prince had laid the subject of Miss Furneaux's estate before his mother, but that Her Majesty was so mnch irritated that she threw her ladyship's communication on one side. His Royal Highness promised, however, that he would lay the matter before the Queen again, and he was hopeful she would then take in into her favourable consideration. On the fol lowing day there came another important looking letter, the envelope of which was about 10in. long and 4in. wide, and had a big official kind of seal on it. The com muication purported to be from Lord Coleridge. On reading this lcttor Miss Furneaux burst into a fit of crying, saying ' I never know such a thing in my life. This is the fruit of being without a pro tector- They want to entrap mc and put me into a lunatic asylum.' .-he explained how she had been harassed in her attempts to get money, and the letter stated that if she continued her applications to Lo d Coleridge he would have her taken before physicians for an examination into her mental condition." Such were some of the incidents of her sojourn here. There was an old mortgage on the Harplow property. This she offered to pay oft, proposing to purchas- the estate for £4,000. She went to London at Powell's cost, under pretence of securing the necessary cash by selling out some stock in the funds. Difficulties arising, sbo advised the sale of the estate by public auction. It produced only £2,200. But Fowell apparently lost all. He fol lowed her to London to make sure of bis money, but was presented instead with a bill of costs by tne solicitors, giving a bal ance of £37 as due from himself. Iv his anger he seized a ruler, struck the clerk, was summoned before the magis'rate, and bound over to keep the peace for six months. Fowell was ruined, and had to begin life again as a a journeyman. Four years paised before he could discover any trace of Miss Furneaux. At last the clue was foupd, as it seems, given by herself. She promised him £1 a week till she came into her fortune. Then, ' again, she repudiated the debt. Maddened with rsge and drinkr, he sent her a threatening letter. She prosecuted him, and at the trial pro duced a second letter—now believed to have been a forgery—more violent than tbe first. The unfortunate man was sentenced to 12 months' imprisonment, and only completed his term three weeks since. But this cmcl experiment was but one of many imposi tions. The succession of incidents is not yet clearly established. It would appear that during these same years Miss Furneaux was engaged in more daring exploits. While she was lodging at Aston she informed oertain people that she was in reality Lord Arthur Pelham Clinton, and hada.sumed feminine '-costume for the purposes of disguise. This unhappy young nobleman, it may be remembered, was im plicated in che Boulton and Park scandal some 12 years ago, bnt before the trial came on died at Chris tchurcb. She now alleged that his death was a pretence, that Ids coffin was filled with stones and buried, and the lawyers and doctors bribed into silence. As if to strengthen her case, she donned the dress proper to man, and appeared in the height of fashion, with lavender kids and walking stick. . She de clared that the Queen was aware of his existence, and only waited the proper moment to restore him to his estates. While figuring in this character it is alleged that she won the affections of two young women, and gave them the promise of mar riage, one of them being now in a lunatic asylum on discovery of the deceotiou, bnt there are circumstances which throw some doubt on thi> part of the case. Amongst her first confidants appears a Mr Gethiog,.iu engineer,brother of the lady with whom she lodged, and this man is now under arrest; charged with conspiring in one of the frauds. He had undertaken the responsibility of her debts, and on the strength of a bond which professed to be from Lord Coleridge,, as'isleu her to procure £2000 from a Mr Beynon, and £3000 more from a Mr Screen. Tims enriched, 'Lord C'inton' went oft 'on a visit to the Queen at Balmoral,' and re turning, brous-t back a poodle which she said had belonged to Prince Leopold. At another time she invited Mr Beynon to

1 accompany her to Balmoral; but Inning reached Birmingham, lis lordship became unwell, and the two did not go further. It is stated that 'on one occasion when Fur neaux returned from a pretended visit to the Queen, for which purpose she assumed male attire, she showed her friends a will formally drawn up on parchment, bearing immense seals, and having Her Majesty's name boldly written upon it, as attest ing to its provisions. By this document the sham lord bequeathed £5000 to the person with whom she was lodging, and 'his' intended wife, besides various other lega cies to members of the Gotbing family. Bcnyon becoming embarrassed, wrote to Lord Coleridge, requesting tho liquidation of the bonds and received for answer that if he wrote again his letter would bo handed over to the police. He waited three years, and then once more applied. The result was that Lord Coleridge placed tho matter in the hands of the police, and that Benyon instituted the present prosecution. The whole history teems with incidents of impo.lurc. At one period Miss Furneaux was compelled to take refngs in Liverpool, and wbile there victimised a money-lender, and kept him in suspense by means ot forged letters f>om Lord Coleridge. Numerous in dtvidunls were made to play into her hands. Thus one man, after sending her all his own money, borrowed .£llOO to send to her. Another is believed to have font her 150 lettors, each of which contained sums vary ing from £10 to £120. More than 5000 letters are now in the hands of the police. The total amount obtained by the woman in various ways is estimated at little short of £25.000. The forgeries included letters Irom the Queen, tho Prince of Wales, Lord Coleridge, Sir Richard Cross, Justices Den man and W-lliams, and others. Tho Cole ridge forgeries arc minute and audnci'iii-, and evince the most friendly interest in her affairs. One of the latest of these letters is date 1 from Maidstone immediately after the trial of Lefroy, and says : " 1 am very pleased that I have just finished this labo rious work, by the grace of Cod. I Jhope Miss Furneaux not into court I told niv son Bernard to get you a ticket," Some of the letters were written on piper of the High Court of Justice, obtained no one knows now ; and it is further evidence of craft that after the death of the Lord Chief Justice many were bordered with black. The vast mass of facts as heaped acciden tally together, wil' presently be reduced to order, nnd wo shall then lie better able to judge of the relation of tho several parts in this wild romance. Miss Furneaux was helped by a masculine look, but she does not appear to have confined her inventions wholly to one character. The mystery with which she was encompassed herself had a c rtain fascination ; her aristocratic preten sions Ensnared the weaker sort; and the ni-serable career of the young nobleman whoso name she had assumed seems never to have awakened a question; while the vul.nr bait of hij.h intcre-t on their loans had lured others to tin ir loss.

Her habits while lodging at Aston arc described us extraordinary:—"At homo she always wore a black skirt, a jacket being substituted for a bodice, her usual attire including a man's shirt collar and necktie, the latter neatly fastened in a bow at the throa*. Her outdoor cos'umc was completed wi'h a man's ulster and a deer stalker hat, and her figure was invariably padded, Although possessed of a pas sionate temper, which led her at times to upset the brcakfiv-t table into the fireplace, and smash it-* equipment with the poker, she appear, to have been strangely fond of pets. Her npartmen's always contained fancy cats and dogs, and she required that her special pet animal should occupy the same bedroom. She appeared to live in constant fear, and the visit of a stranger would cause her the greatest apprehension. She extinguished the gas in her bedroom with great reluctance, and was in the habit of secreting quantities of coal beneath her bod, in order to provide a roar ing fire after the family had retired to rest. Frequently she lay on the hearthrug licforc the tire instead of going t. bed, and thi-< she explained was a habit of her barrack-room life during her nrn.y experience. Amongst her numerous photographs was one of her iv military uniform, and others in male attire- Her woman's dress was generally supplied from the clothing of the people with whom she was living" [We have since learned by cable that the woman ha-> been committed for trial.—Lon don Cor. of Melbourne " Argus."]

The Lieutenant and the Lady.

MALTA has been in the throes of a sensational scandal. A lieutenant com manding one of the ships be'ongiug to the .Mediterrnne-n Squadron took with him to Valetta a lady who was supposed to be his newly-married bride. As a matter of course she was invited to the Palace, attended all the public balls, and was for a time a guest at the houses of t n-o of the principal English -flicials in the island. During the temporary abseuce of her husband with his ship, the attentions paid her by a well-known local tradesman ttxclted suspicion, an inquiry was set on foot, the marriage of the officer in question turned out to be a myth, and the lady was rocogniscd as having at no very distant date moved in a very different sphere of society at Brighton. The explanations subsequently offered only mad.£ matters worse, aud the whole business culminates, it is said, in a naval court martial.

About Love.

Mr Factandfancy has noticed : That the boy who is most afraid of the girls is the first to be corralled into matri moncy. That the little boys prefer boys to girls. That they soon change, never to go back to their early love. That the little girls love the gi Is best. That they don't get over their preference as soon as the boys do—some of them never. That the women love the men because they love everything tha'. they have to take care of. That men love wo-non because thoy can't help it. That the wife lov -s her hu'band so well that she has no thoughts for other men. That the husband so loves his wife that he loves all women for her sake. That tho marred man is apt to think himself all-kill-ng among tbe fair sex simply because he has found one woman fool enough to marry him. That homely husbands are the best. They never forget the compliment paid, them by their wives in accepting them. That homely wives are the truest. They know how to make the most of what they have. That the m-n who marries late in life docs woll. That the man who marries young does better. That the man who never marries is to be pitied, That the worn n who marries does well. That the woman who does not marry does better nine times out of ten.— Boston Transcript.

How to Escape Nervousness

NERVOUSNESS is a nervous weakness. The principal sign of a feeble nervous organisa tion is an excessive degree of irritability of one or more of the organs of the body. If the nervous system be weak, the organ. to which the nerves are distributed will also be weak, and a weak organ is also an irri table one. It tako* very little to throw such an organ out of its orderly course of action. Some slight cause or other acting on a "nervous" brain creates suc'-i a degree of irritability th_t its possessor feels as if he would like to "jump out of his skin," or he maybe thrown into a paroxysm of intense emotional disturbance, or a sick headache, i an attack of hysteria, or even a more severe di-order may result. A "nervous " eye or ! car is annoyed by unusual or persistent sights and sounds, a " nervous " heart pal pitates and flutters after slight mental or bodily ex'-rtion ; a "nervous" stomach is irritated by food which n healthy b>by could easily digest,and the condition known as " nervous dyspepsia " is induced ; and a " nervous" spine, to specify no further, causes derangements of nearly all the organs of the body. To cure these various disorders is often difficult, and sonctimes impossible, 'To prevent them oven in" persons predis posed to nervousness is comparatively an ea-y matter. The great hygiene of the subject is em braced in the sentence - strengthen the system. * How is this to bo done? First—The first prescription is an ample supply of pure, fresh and cool air. The no-yes will always be weak if the greater part of th-- day and night bo passed in close, ill-ventilated, and overheated apartments. The nerves, more than the rest of the body, to be pr»perly nourished, require a full supply of oxygen. They will not endure vitiated air, whether the impurities come from sewers, gasligh's, subterranean fur uncos, or the individual's own person,with out making an energetic prote t. A gas-burner consuming four cubic feet of gns per hour produces more carbonic acid in a given timo than is evolved from the respiration of eight adult human beings. Bear this in mind, yon who suffer from nervousness, that when you have shut your selves up in your rooms and lighted an argnn.l burner ( which consumes about twelve cubic feet of gas per hour), you are, to all intents and purposes, immured with twenty .three other porsons, all taking oxygen from the atmosphere. In it a won der that after several hours' exposure to the depraved air your nerves should rebel as far as their weak state permits, and tbat your head should ache, your hands tremble, and that your daughter's playing on the piano almost drives yon wild ? An overheated apartment always ener vates its occupants. It is no uneemmon thing-to find rooma heated in winter by an underground furnace np to ninety degrees. Fights and murders are more nnmcrons in hot than in cold weather, and the artifkally heated air that rushes into our rooms, deprived as-it is of its natural moi«tnre by tho baking it hits undergone, is even moro productive of vicious passions. It is no Mirprising circumstance, therefore, to.Tind the woman who swelters all day in such a temperature, nnd adds to it at night super flous bcdclotbiug, cross and disagreeable from little cvery-day troubles that would scarcely ruflle her temper if she kept her rooms at sixty-five degrees and opened the windows now and them. Second— Eat plenty of well-cooked and nourishing food. The nerves cannot be kept healthy on slops. Gruels, panadas, and teas are well enough in their way, but the nerves require for their proper nourish, mont undiluted animal and vegetable food; as a rule the former should predominate. Meat-eaters arc rarely troubled with nerv ousness. Americans eat more vcgctabls than any other well to-do ponple, and they are'probably the most "nervous" nation on the face of the cartb.- Third—Take sufficient physical exercise in the open air When you feel irritable, tremulous, fretful, fidgety, and unable to concentrate yonr thoughts on the veriest trifle, take a long walk or split half a cord of w.-od. Even the extreme nervousness of lunatics is best quieted by bodily labour. The homicidal maniac who cannot, if kept in his cell, bo trusted with a bodkin, may safely be given spado, pickaxe, or hoe, and set to work in the garden. His irritability is qnielly led off into another and safer channol, and his nerves are strengthened. Thee aro the principal rule?. If tbey were faithfully followed, tbere would be less work for us doctors to do.—D. William A. Hammond,in 'Our Continent."

A Diabolical Plot.

A GF.RM * N paper gives particulars concern ing a very singular plot formed against the doctors of Berliu, which, owing to a fortn nato circumstance, has been discovered by the police. A few weeks ago two indivi duals told the following strange story to the authorities : Th.y and some accom pbces bad hired, in different parts of the city, furnished rooms, to which m.-dical men were to be summoned under pretext of attending a patient. Once caught in the infamous trap, they were to be robbed of whatever money t>ey might have about them, strangled, and their bodies thrown into the water. A man named W.lke, the leader of the band, was to act the part of the sick person ; but when the doctor ap proached the bed to ascertain his condition the pusedo patient was to garotte his vic tim, who at the same moment was to be handcuffed and bound by his associates. Everything was arranged for the first at tempt, of this nature. A room c-nve niently situated for disposing of the body by throwing it into the water was hired, a fortnight's rent being paid iv advance. The first victim was to be a certain Dr. Lehrs ; but at the e'eventh h<nir Wilke's accom plices, cither from fear of subsequent de tection or a worthier motive, divulged the plot to the police. A couple of police offi cers visited the house indicaterl, the land lady of which stated that slip had a lodger named Wilke. When the room in which he had lived was examined, a large box was found in it, containing all the neces sary instruments for the perpetration of tho crime. In order to obtain further proof of the truth of the story told by his accom plices, it was decided that everything shouldbcallowed to take place as arranged, only instead of Dr. Lehrs, a constable in disgui'C was to play the part of the medical man. The sequel proved that there had been no exaggeration in the account given by Wilke's denunciators. When the con stable, acting tbe doctor's role, approached Wilke's bedside on the appointed evening, lie was seized by the throat, and ordered to produce what money be had about him, or to sign a paper by which money could be obtained at his residence. In an instant the pseudn d ctor's colleagues come to the rescue. Wilke was made prisoner, and see ing that he had been betrayed, hoconfe'sed all.

"LORD OF ALL."

A LOVE STORY.

'My dear fellow, I've found a paradise! A perfect Eden without a serpent in it in the shape of tourist or cad—an artist's para dise that I believe hardly anyone knows of. It is called Penruth ; it's a lit le village in Cornwall, as I need "not say. Such models, splendid set of people—such recks, such a sea ! I don't care twopence .about food and drink. I can't say they are Klysian, but it doesn't matter. 1 get some fish now and then, and beastly bread; but I live on the beauty of nature. Come and do like wise.'

In this rapturous strain Vincent Randal wrote to his artist^ friends scattered about the world this glorious summer—please to nate it at the last line mmmer which can be remembered—in search of the picturesque. Vincent had fqund it to his heart's content, and was revelling in his untoucnod paradise of sea, sky,and rock, And it even had the last thing needful, it had its Eve. But before the heroine of his idyll appears, let me introduce you to Vincent Kandal, artist, as he chose to describe himself, though as yet, his income derived from art was nothing, plus a considerable balance the wrong way in studio and other ex penses ; nevertheless, >ou could not enrage him more than by calling him " amateur." ' If I have the misfortune to be well oil', it isu't my fault,' he would say, wi'h pathos. ' Don't degrade mo by calling mo an ama teur unless you want me to cut to pieces every canvas I have covoicd.' lie worked hard and painted well, but he bad not the divine touch. At times des pair seized him of ever getting beyond the "prefy," and he would burn his best i-llbrls in the madness of the moment of self-dis gu-t. He hated ilio praises of the Philis tine* ; but now and then his sensitive, wo« manish and tender nature shrank from the criticism of the hi' nils who loved him, but saw through tlio mere talent of his painting, which never could rise above talent. It was a relief sometimes to be sitting quite alone at the feet of Mother Nature as sin- trended grand and calm over the Cornish solitudes of vividly coloured glorious masses of majes tic rock. It calmed and soothed th- ner vous, impressionable man whose life was spent in fruitless chase after impossible ideals—ideal beauty such as his mental eyes ''ad never scen,co!ourcd with the light that never was on sea or sky; ideal love such as ho had never, might never attain to ; ideal honesty of purpose, purity of motive, hcriosm of sac itice. A' d with it j all he had moods of lightness, reckless bonhomie, which covered all the contradictions and unsatisfied longings of the man's soul as the sparkles lay on the surface of the dark and restlesß waters. Vincent sat among the rocks panning, or trying to paint, but a mood of disgust at his work had seized him, and he was more inclined to _ hake his list at his canvas than to paint upon it ' What a fool one is to attempt any thing,'he said to himself; 'why not give it all up and simply take it in ? - like tbat bird uu there—l'm sure he enjoys it all more than I do ' He got up and stretched him-elf. He was reither tall nor hand some ; there was nothing heroic in his an. pearat;cc; he was thin and meagre, his hair was beginning to be more gray than brown, but. he looked every inch a gentic man and good fellow. As he stretched his arms and stamped the the pins and needles out of hi- feet, he suddenly saw a girl sitting opposite him on a rock, looking fixedly out to sea. Vincent perceived that sbc was unaware of his presence. He kept per fectly still and watch'd her; it seemed to him that ho had never seen a beautiful woman in his life before ; all hi-, old fancies faded; she was alone in her beauty before lis eyes ; as for tbe rest, they were merely pretty, and Vincent despised pret ii-es". i She was only a peasant girl; her white cot ton bonnet lay on tho rot-Ie beside her, she had a common stuff dress on, but she was >imply and perfectly beautiful, the eye of a picture such as is given to few to take into their souls. Around her was the setting of the cliffs and rocks; the pools of clear water at her feet, reflecting a clearer hea ven of cloudkvsbhie ; beyond and away tbe tea silvered with afternoon light, the gla mour of high summer, the silence which has its own music. She was iall—taller than Vincent himself; her hair was bu^nt into a kind of brown gold ; bereyus were deep and large— probably that brown which is called black ; her features had that pci fection which makes one almost forget to noticiin what it consists. Wiih her bounty there was that stran.c and indescribable pathos which enters into one's heart, ono knows not how or why. ' My last ideal,' Vincent thought to him self, with a touch of self-scorn. 'If she came nearer to mc, I should find her like tbe re^t of them-another illusion gone.' Yet he drank it in, and the sweet idea sank into his foolish heart. As he watched her, her face contracted with an expression of acute pain; she uttered a short sharp sound, neither words nor cry, nnd st- etched out her clasped hands toward the sea. Then she stood on her fe^t, hastily gathered up whnt she had dropped, turned and hurried away with the step of. one who neither thinks nor .cares of where she goes. In anothermoment. Vincent's eyes had lost their vision. He attempted no more painting ; he col lected his paraphernalia and w nt back to his home—for the time being—in the very piiniitiv. little inn, 'The Fi-hcrman's llest,' in the small hamlet of Penrurh. ' If she lives here, I'll find her out/ he thought, as he disposed his belongings in his small quarters; ' and if I find "hw I'll know her. It will be my only chance of salvation. I hope sbc is a coarse, ignorant, peasant girl." He. knew all the villagers by sight, and most of them to speak to. They' wore a ranged, but kindly set, and they ail liked the ' little painting gentleman,'' cspec :ally the children, whom he chaffed.and petted, bestowing endless hall-pchco on those who had the loveliest eyes. His goddess was not among them, but there were a good many outlying cottages. Vincent made up bis mind that he should find her iv one of these. At last lis hit upon the one which enshrined her. Ho saw an old woman making nets at the door, and though she was wrinkled and grown ugly with the sun and wind and the hard work of years, ho fancied he traced a likeness, and he stopped to talk to her. He asked her qu stions about the fishing and the storms, and then ho entered on more personal grounds. ' Your husband goes out fishing, I sup. . pose, like the ret?' ' I have none, sir,'the woman answered, quite tranquilly; 'he went down in our boat twelve years come next October, with my only son. I and my daughter live here alone.' Vincent's heart beat. fast. ' You've got a daughter ?' ■ Yes sir. It's a pity she ain't a lad. It's hard work for women folk to make a living. I often wisli I'd had the sense to bide as I was. I was better off a deal, when I was in scrvic-- nt Sir George Tressilan's. But. my man was very steady and goo'l to me ; yon may have heard on him if you're at Penruth—John Trevarroch. He owned a boat, and wo were woll-to-do, till he wont down - and all my luck with him,' she added, with the first touch of patho. in her rather hard tone,.

STAR SATURDAY SUPPLEMENT, MAY 20, 18S2

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Goodwin's Baking Powder in half-pound tins, ls3d, sold by all the grocers ; whole sale by all the merchants,—_Adyt.]