THE LEAVENWORTH MURDER

BY iNXA KAIIIERINE GREEN]

Authoress of

"A Strange Disappearance"and

"Tun Sword of Damocles."

WAYS OFENINf!

It is not ami itcmmot como to fjood,

—Hamt.it. I ATTENDED iho funeral of Mr Loavon worth, but did not sec the ladies either be fore or after the ceremony. I however had a few moments' conversation with Mr Har well, wliieli, without eliciting any thing new, provided me with food for abundant conjecture. For he had naked, almost at first greeting, if I had seen the "Telegram" of the night beforo,nnd when I responded in (lie affirmative, turned such n look o£ mingled distress and appeal upon me, that I was tempted to ask how such a frightful insinuation against a young lndy of reputation and breeding could ever hare got into the papers. It was his reply that struck me. " That the guilty parly might ho driven by remorse to own himself the true culprit, I suppose." A curious remark to come from a person who had no knowledge- or suspicion of the criminal and his character; and I would have pushed the conversation further, but the secretary, who was a man ot few words, drew oft1 at this, and could bo induced to say no more. Evidently it was my business to culti vate Mr Claverinsr, or anyone else, who could throw any light upon the secret history of these girls. That evening i received notice that Mr Veeley had arrived home, hut was too ill to consult with me upon so painful a sub ject as the murder of Mr Leavenworth. Also a line from Eleanore giving me her address,but requesting me at the same time not to call unless I had something of im portance to communicate, as she was too ill to receive visitors. The little note affected me. 111, alone in a strange home,—'twas pitiful! The next day, pursuant to the wishes of MrGryce, I stepped into the Hoffman House and took a seat in the reading-room. I had been there but a few momenta when a gentlemen entered whom I immediately recognised as the same I hod spoken to on the corner of Thirty-seventh street and Sixth Avenue. lie must have rememberod me also, for he seemed to be slightly ombarrasscd at seeing me, but recovering himself tuok lip a paper and soon became to all appearance lost in its contents, tbongh I could feel his handsome black eye upon mo studying my features, figure, apparel and movements with a degree of interest that astonished m much as it disconcerted mo. I felt lhat it would be injudicious on my part to return hi.? scrutiny, anxious as 1 was to meet his eye and learn ■what eiuotion had so fired his curiosity in regard to a stranger ; so I rose,and crossing to an old friend of mine who sat at a table opposite, commenoed a desultory conversa tion, in the course of which I look occasion to ask if he knew who the handsome stranger was. Dick Furbish was a society man and knew everybody. " His name is Clavering, and he comos from London. I don't know anything more about him, though he is everywhere yon go, if you except private houses. He ha« not been received into society yet; waiting for letters of introduction,perhaps," "A gentleman?" "Undoubtedly." " One you speak to ?" "0, yes; I talk to him, bnt it's little he says to me." I could not help smiling at the grimace ■with which Dick accompanied this remark. " which same goes to prove," he went on, " that he is the real thing." Laughing, this time outright, 1 left him, and in a few minutes sauntered from the room. As I mingled with the crowd on Broad way, I found myself wondering immensely over this alight experience. That this unknown gentleman from London, who went everywhere except into private houses, could beinany way connected with the affair I had so at heart, seemed not only im probable but absurd, and for the first time I felt tempted to doubt the sagacity of Mr Gryco in recommending him to my attention. The next day I repeated tke experiment, hut with bo greater success than before. Mr Clavering came into the room, but seeing me did not remain. I began to realise it was no ea«y mattor to make his acquaintance. To atone for my disappoint ment I called on Mary Leavenworth in the evening. She received me with almost a siater-like familiarity. "Ah," cried she, after introducing me to an elderly lady at her side, —some con nection of the family, I believe, who had como to remain with her for a while,— " you are here to tell me Hannah is found ; is it not so ?" I shook my head, sorry to disappoint her. "No," said I, "Dot yet" " But Mr Gryce was here to-day, and he told me that he hoped she would be heard from within twenty-four hours." "Mr. Gryce hero ! " Yes ; came to report to me how matters were progressing,—not that they seemed to have advanced very far," she continued mournfully. "You ccrald hardly have expected that yet," returned I. "You must not ba so easily discouraged." " But I cannot help it; every day, every hour that passes in this uncertainty, is fike a mountain weight here;" and she laid one tromblinc hand npon her bosom. " I would have the whole world at work it it were possible. I would leave no atono unturned : I—" "What would you do ?" I murmured. " 0,1 don't know," cried she, her whole manner suddenly changing; " nothing per. haps." Then before 1 could reply to this —" Have you seen Eleanore to-day?" I answered in the negative. She did not seom satisfied, but waitod till her friend left the room before sayinjj more. Then with an earnest look inquired if I knew whether Eleanore was well. "I fear she is not," I returned. "It is a great trial to mo," she mur mured, " Eleanore being away. Not," resumed she, noting, perhaps, my incrcdu lons look, " that 1 would have you think I wish to disclaim my share in bringing about the present unhappy f-ta'c of things. I am willing to acknowledge) that I was tho first to propose a separation. But it is none the easier to bear on that account.' "It is not as hard for jou as for her," said I. " Not as hard ? Why ? because she is left comparatively poor while I am rich —is that what you would say? Ah," she went on without waiting for my answer, "would that I could persuade Eleanore to share my riches with me. Willingly would I bestow upon her the half I have received; but I fear she could never be induced to accopt it." " Under the circumstances it would be wiser that she should not." "Just what I thought," Mary returned; "yet it would case me of a great weight if she would. This fortune suddenly thrown in'o my lap, aits like an incubus upon me, Mr. Raymond. When the will was read to-day which makes me the possessor of so much wealth, I could not but feel that a heavy, blinding pall bad settled upon me, spotted with blood and woven of horrors. Ah, how different from the foclings with which I have been accustomed to anticipate this day. For Mr Raymond," she went on with a hurried gasp, " dread fnl as it seems now, I have been reared to look forward to this hour with pride, if not with actual longing. Money has been made so much of in my small world. Not that I wish in this evil time of retribution to lay blame upon any one.least of all upon my uncle, but from that day twelve years ago when for the first he took us in bis asms, and looking down upon our childish faces, exclaimed, "The light-haired one pleases me best; she shall be my heiress," —I have been pettod, cajoled, and spoiled; called little princess, and Uncle's darling, till it is only strange that I retain in this prejudiced breast any of the impulses of generous ■womanhood ; yes, though I was aware from tho first, that whim alone had raised this distinction between myself and cousin ; a distinction which superior beauty worth or accomplishments could never have drawn, Eleanore being more than my equal in all these things," Pausing, she choked bick the sudden sob thai rose in her throat, with an effort at solf-oontrol that was at jonce touching and admirable. Then while

her eyes stole to ruy face, murmured in a low, appealing voice,—"lfl. have faults, you nee there is aomo flight excuse for them; arrogance, vanity and selfishness heim,' cousidcrud in tbeyounghcireti.s us no more than co many assertions of a laudable dignity. Ah, ab," she exclaimed bitterly, "money alone has beeii the ruin of us all!" Then with a falling of her voice,—"And now it has come to me with its heritage of evil, Mid I—l would eive it all for—But this is weakness. I have no right to afflict you with, my griefs. Pray forget all I have said, Mr Raymond, or regard my com plaints as the utterances of an unhappy girl loaded down with sorrows and oppres sed by the weight of many perplexities and ]terrors."

" But I do not wish to forget," replied I. "You have spoken some good words, mani fested much noble emotion. Your posses sions cannot but prove 'a blessing to you if you enter upon them with such feelings as these." Hut with a quick gesture she replied, "Impossible; they cannot prove a bles sing. Then as if startled at her own words, bit her lip and hastily added " Very <;reat wealth is never a blessing." "And now," said she with a total change of manner, " I wish to address you on a subject which may strike you ns'ili-time'd, but which nevertheless, it i» essential for me to mention, if the purpose I have at heart is ever to be accomplished. My uncle, as you know, was engaged at the time of his death in writing a book on Chinese customs and prejudices. It was n work which he was anxious to see publish ed, and naturally I deaiie to carry out his wishes : but in order to do so, I find it necessary not only toiuterest myself in the matter now,—Mr Harwell's services being required, and it king my wish to dismifß that gentleman as soon as possible—but to find some one competent to supervise its completion. Now I have heard,—l have been told, that you were tho one of all others to do this, and though it is dillicuit if not improper for me to ask no great a favour of one whoa week ago was a perfect stranger to me, it would afford me the kseuest pleasure if you would consent to look over this manuscript and tell me what ia necessary to be done." The timidity with which these words were uttered, proved her to be in earnest, and I could not but wonder at the strange coincidence of this request with my secret wishes ; it having been a question with me for some time how I was to gain free access to this house without in any way compromising either its inmates or myself. [ did not know then, what I afterwards learned, that Mr Gryce had been the one to recommend me to her favour in this respect. Hut whatever satisfaction I may have ex perienced, I felt myself in duty bound to plead [my incompetence for a task so en tirely out ef the line [of my profession, and to suggest the employment of someone letter acquainted with such matters than myself, lint she would not listen to me. " Mr Harwell has notes and memoranda in plenty," she exclaimed, " and can cive you all tho information necessary. You will have no difficulty, indeed, you will not." "But onnnot Mr Harwell himself do all that is requisite ? He seema,to bo a clever aiid diligent young man." " But she shook her head, "He thinks ho can," she murmured, "bnt I know Uncle never trusted him with the composi tion of so much as a single senteuce ; and I wish to do just as he would have done in this case." " But perhaps he will not be pleased,— Mr Harwell, I mean—with the intrusion of a stranger in his work." She opened bar eyes with astonishment, "That makes no difference," the said; "Mr Harwell is in my pay and has no thing to say about it. But he will not ob ject. I have already consulted hitn.and he expresses himself as satisfied with the ar rangement." "Very wall," said I, "then I will pro mise to consider the subject. I can at any rate look over tho m»nu»cript and you my opinion in regard to its condition." " O, thank you," she said, with the pret tiest gesture of satisfaction. "How kind you are. and what cau I ever do to repay yon ? But would you like to see Mr b ar well himself?" and she moved towards the door, but suddenly paused, whispering with a short shudder of remembrance, "Ho is in the library; do you mind?" Crushing down the sick qualm that arose at the mention of the spo*-, I replied in the negative. " The papers arc all there, and ho can work better in his old place, he says, than anywhere else ; but if you wish I can call him down." But I would not listen to it, and myself led the way to the foot of tho stairs. "1 have sometimes thought that I would lock up that room," she went on, hurriedly, " but something restrains me. I con no more do so than I can leave this house ; a power beyond myself forces me to confront all its horrors. And yet," she went on, " 1 suffer continually from terror. Some timog in the darkness of the night—But," she suddenly tried, "I will not distress you. I have already said too much ; come," and with a sudden lift of the head, she mounted the stairs. Mr, Harwell was seated, when we entered that fatal room, in the one chair of all others that I expected to sco nnoecupied, and as I beheld his meagre figure bending where such a little while before his eyes had encountered the outstretched form of his murdered employer, I could not but marvel over the uriimaginativencss of the man, who, in the face of snch memories, could not only appropriate that very spot for his own use, but pursue his avocations there with po much calmness aDd evident prec:sion. But in another I discovered that the disposition of the light iv the room made that one seat the only desiiable one for his purpose, and instantly my wonder changed to admiratiou at this quiet surrender ot personal feeling to the require ments of necessity. He looked up mechanically, as we came In, bnt did not rise, his countenance wear ing tho absorbed expression which bespeaks the preoccupied mind. "He is utterly oblivious." Mary whis pered ; " thatls a .way of his. I doubt if he knows who or what it is that has dis turbed him.". And advancing into the room, she passed, across his line of vision as if to call attention to henolf, and said, "I have brought Mr. Raymond up stairs to see you, Mr. Harwell. He has been so kind as to accede" ( 't6 my wishes in regard to the completion ,of the manuscript now before you." Slowly Mr. Harwell -ose, wiped his pen and put it away, manifesting, howovor, a reluctance in doing so, that proved this interference to be in rea'ity anything but agreeable to him. Observing this, I did not wait for him tn speak, hut took up the pile of manuscript which I saw arranged iv one mass on the table, saying, " This seems to be very clearly written ; if you will excuse me, I will glance over it and see somcthidg of its geneial charac ter." He bowed, uttered a word or so of ac quiescence, thcu, as Mary left the room, awkwardly reseated himself and took up his pen. Instantly the manusc ipfc and all con nected with it vanished from my thoughts, and Eleanore, her situation and the mystery surrounding this family, returned upon me with renewed force. Looking the secretary steadily in the face, I re marked, "I am very glad of this opportunity of seeing you a moment aloae, Mr Harwell, if only for the purpose of saying-" " Anything in regard to tho murder ?" "Yes—" I began. "Then," replied he respectfully but firmly, " you must pardon me. It is a disagreeable subject which I cannot bear to think of, much less difcuss." Disconcerted, and what was more, con vinced of-the impossibility of obtaining any information from this man, I abando»cd the attempt, and taking up the manuscript once more, endeavoured to master in some small decpeo.the nature of its contents Succeeding beyond my hopes, I opened a short conversation with him in regard to it, and finally coming to the conclusion I could accomplish what Miss Leavenworth desired, left him and descended again to the reception room. When, an hour or so later, I withdrew from the house, it was with the feel ing that one obstacle had been removed from my path at all events. If 1 failed, it would not be from lack of opportunity of studying the inmates of this dwelling.

XVI. THE WILL OF A MILLIONAIRE.

Our remedies, oft in ourselves do lie. Which we ascribe to Heaven. —AWa Well that Ends Weli. The next morning's "Tribune" con tained a synopsis of Mr Lcavcnworth's will. Its provisions were a surprise tome; for while the bulk of his immemo esiatc was, according to tho goneral understanding, given to his niece, Mary, it appeared by a codicil attached to his will some live yoars before, that Eloanore was not entirely for

"otten, a handsome bequest, though not a large one, having been left her. After lis tening to the various comments on tho pub joct, rprocccdcd to tho house of Mr Gryce in obedience to hia request to call upon him ah poon as posnible after the publica tion of the will. " Good-morning," he remarked a* I entered, but whether addressing me or the frowning top of the desk before which he was sitting it would be difficult to say. " Won't you sit?" nodding with a curious back movement of his head towards a chair in his rear, I drew up the chair to bi.s side. "I am curious to know," I remarked, " what you have to sny about thiß will and its probable effect upon the matter* we have in baud." " What is your idea in regard to it ?" "Well, I think upon the whole it will make but little liifforence in public, opinion. Those who thought Eleanore guilty before, will feel that they possess now greater cause than ever to doubt her innocence ; while those who have hitherto hesitated to suspect her, will not consider that the com paiatively small amount bequeathed her would constitute an adequate motive for so jjieat a crime." " You have heard men talk ; what seems to be the general opinion among those you converse with ?" "That the motive of the tragedy will be found in the partiality shown in so singular a will, though how they do not profess to know." Mr Gryco suddenly liei'iinio interested in one of the small drawers before him. " And all this has not set you thinking?" said ho. •'Thinking," returned I. " I don't know what you mean. I am sure I have been done nothing but think for the lust three days. I—" "Of comae -of c.ourso," cried ho. "I didn't mean to say anything disagreeable, And so you have seen Mr Clnvcrina?" "Just seen him, no more." " And you'aro goini* to asuist Mr Harwell in linishiug Mr Leavonworth'a book?" " tlow did you learn that ?" Ho only smiled. " Yes, said I; "Miss Leavenworth has requested me to do her that little favour." "Sheis v queenly creature!" exclaimed he in a burst of enthusiasm, Then with an instant return to his business-like tone —"You are going to have opportunities, Mr Raymond. Now, there are two things I want you to find out; first, what is the connection between theso ladies and Mr Clavering—" " There is a connection, then ? " Undoubtedly. And secondly, what ia tho cause of the unfriendly feeling which evidently exists between the cousins." I drew back and pondered over the position offered me. A spy iv a fair woman's house ! How could I reconcile it with my natural instincts as a gentleman ? " Cannot you find some one more suitable to learn thege secrete for you ?" I asked at length. " The part of a spy i« anything but agreeable to my feelings, I assure you. Mr Grvuu'a brows fell. " I will assist Mr Harwell in Iris cflort* to arrauga Mr Lcavcnworth's ruaiuucript for the press," I aiiid ; "I will give Mr Claverins an opportunity to form my acquaintance, and I will listen if Miss Letivenworth chooses to make mo her con fidant in any way. But any hearkening at doors, surprises, unworthy feints or un gentlemanly subterfuge*, 1 herewith dis claim as outside of my province :my tank being to find out what I can in an open way and yours to search into the nooks and corners of this most wretched business." " In other words, you are to play the hound, and I the mole ; just so, 1 know what belongs to a gentleman." "And now," said I, "what news of Hannah ?" He shook both hands high ill the air. " None," cried he. I cannot say I was greatly surprised that evening, when upon descending from an hour's labour with Mr. Harwell, 1 oncountorcd Miss Leavenworth standing at the foot of the stairs. Thorn had boon something in her bearing the night before which prepared me for another iulemow tllis evening, though her manner of com mencingit wnsnßurprise. *" Mr Raymond," said she, looking down with an appearance of embarrassment, "I want to ask you a question. 1 believe that you are a good man and will answer it conscientiously -u-s a brother would," she murmured, lifting her eyes for a moment to my luce, "1 know it will sound strange, but remember that I have no adviser but you, and 1 must ask some one. Mr Raymond, do you think a person could do something that was very wrong and yet grow to be thoroughly good afterwards ?" "Certainly," I replied, "if he were truly sorry for his fault." " But say it was more than a fault; paj it was an actual Inuni; would not the memory of that one evil hour cast a shadow over the life which tho soul could never escapo from?" "That depends," said I, "upon the nature of the harm and its effect upon others. If one had irreparably injured a fellow-being, it wonld bo hard, 1 should think, to live a happy life afterwards; though the fact of not living a happy life ought to be do reason why one should not live a good one." " Dnt to live a good life would it be neces sary to reveal the evil you had done ? Can not one go on and do right without confess ing to the world that he had oaco commit ted a great wrong ?" "Yes, unless by its: confession he can in someway make reparation." My answer seemed to trouble her. Draw ing back, the stood for one moment in a thoughtful attitude before me, her beauty shining with almost a statuesque splendour in the glow of the p ircelaiu-shaded lamp at her side. Nor, though she presently roused herself, leading the way into the drawing-room with a gesture that was allurement itself, did she recur to this topic again, but rather seemed to strive, in the conversation that followed, to make me forget what had already passed between us. That she did not succeed, was owing to my intense and unfailing interest in her cousin. As I descended the stoop I paw Thomas, the butler, leaning over tho area gate Immediately I was seized with an impulse to interrogate Mm in rajard to a matter which had more or less interested mo over since the inquest, and that was, who was the'; Mr. Bobbins who had called upon Eleanore the night of tho murder ? But Thomas was decidedly uncommunicative. He remembered such a person called, but could not describe his looks any further than to say that he was not a small man. I did not press the matter. XVII. THK KECUNNINO OF (JRIAT SURPRISES. Vous regarded uno cStoilo pour doux motifs parce qu'cllo cat lumineuso ot parce o^u'elle eat impenetrable Vous aver. aupr6a do vous un plus doux ruyonncment ct un plus grand rnys tere, la l'omme. —LES MISKRAnLES. And now followed days in which I seemed to make litilc or no progress. Mr Clavcriuji, disturbed perhaps by my presence, forsook his usual haunts, thus depriving me of all opportunity of making bis acquaintance in any natural manner, while the evenings spent at Mies Lcavcnworth's were produc tive of little else than constant suspense and uneasiness. The manuscript required less revision ttan I supposed, Mr Leavenworth being one of the men who believe in finishing as they go, but ia the course of making such few changes as were necessary, I had ample opportunity of studying the charac ter of Mr Harwell. I found him to he neither more nor less than an excellent amanuensis. Stiff, unbending and sombre, but true to his duty and roliaolc in its per formance, I learned to respect him, and even to like him ; and this, too, though I saw the liking was not reciprocated, whatever the respect may have been. He never spoke of Eleanoro Lcavenwoith or, indeed, men tioned the family or its trouble in any way, till I began to feel that all this reti cence had a cause deeper than the nature of tbe man, and that if he did speak, it would be to some purposo. This tuspicion of course, kept me restlessly oager in his presence. I could not forbear giving him sly glances now and then, t* sec how he acted when he believed himself unobserved, but he was ever the same ; a passive, dili gent, unexcitable worker. Tnis continual beating against a stone wall, for thus I felt it to be, became at last unendurable. Clavering shy, and the Se cretary unapproachable—how was I to gain anything? The short interviews I had with Mary did not help matters. Haughty, constrained, feverisu, pettish, grateful, appealing, every thing at once and never twice the same, 1 learned to dread, even while I coveted an interview. She appeared to be passing through some crisis which occasioned her the keenest sufierin? I have seen her, when she thought herself alone, throw up her hanris with the gesture which wo use to ward off a coming evil, or shut out some hideous vision. I have like wise beheld her standing with her proud head abased, her nervous hands dropping, her whole form sinking and iuorfc, as if tho

pressure of;i weight shoconld neither upbear nor cast aside had robbed her oven of the show of resistance. But that was ouly once, Ordinarily she was at least stately in her Iroublo. " Even when tho softest appeal came into her eye», she stood erect, and retained her expression of conscious power liven tho night slm mot mo in the mill with feverish checks, mid lips trembling with eagerness, only to turn and Hy "Ram without giving utterance to what she hail to any, she comported heiNclf with a fiery dignity that was well nigh imposing. That all this meant something, I wns sure, and so I kept my patience alive With the hope that some day she would make a revelation. Those quivoringlipa would not always remain closed ; tho secret involving Eleanorc's honour find happiness would be divulgod by this restless being, if by no one else. Not- was the memory of that ex traordinary, if not cruel accusation _ I hud heard her make, enough to destroy tliis hope - for hope it had grown to be—so that 1 found myself insensibly shortening my time with Mr. Harwell in the library, and extending my UHe-a-tfite visits with Mary in the reception-room, till the imperturb able Secretary was forced to complain that he was often left for hours without work. But as I say, days passed and a second Monday evening came round without see ing mo any further advanced upon the problem I had set myself to solve, than I wus two weeks before. The subject of the murder kad not even been broached ; nor was Hannah spokeu of, though I observed the papers were not allowed to languish an instant upon the stoop ; inistivHs and ser vants betraying equal interest in tbeir con tents. All this was strange to me. It was as if you siw n group of human beings cut ins?, diiukiii" and sleeping upon the sides of a volcano not with a lute emption and trembling with the birth of a new one, I longed to break this silence as we shiver glass, by shouting the name of Eloanore through tllOSOgilded rooms and satin-draped vestibules. I felt an insane impulse to tear up the very floors, and rend the walls, aa if they could tell me, if they would,what I so yearned to know. But this Monday even ing T wiw in a calmer mood. The day before, I had pnssod her house, aud caught the glimpse ot a faco at a wiudow, that was Hweet aud sad tuough to nerve me for moie than one week of disappointment. I deter mined to expect nothiug from my visits to Mary Leavcnworth's bouse, aud entered it upon the eve in question with an equanimity such as I had not experienced siuec the first day I passed under its unhappy por tals. lint when upon nraring the reception room I saw Mary pacing tno tloor with tho air of one who is restlessly awaiting something or somebody, I took a sudden resolution, and advancing towards her, said.—" Do I see you alone, Miss Leavenworth ? " She paused in hor hurried action, blusbed and bowed, but contrary to her usual cus tom did not bid mo enter. " Will it be too greut an intrusion on my part, if I venture to come in 1 " I asked. Her glance llaihed uneasily to the cluck, nnrl she seemed about to excuse herself, but suddenly yielded, and drawing up a chair before tho lire, motioned mo towards it. Though t-he endeavoured to appear calm, 1 vaguely felt that I had cbauccd upon her in one of her most agitated monds, and that 1 had only to broach the subject 1 had in mind, to behold that haughty aspect disappear bofore me like melting snow. I also felt that 1 had but few moments in which to do it. 1 accor dingly plungod immediately into thu sub ject. " "Mis;* Leavenworth," said I, "in obtruding upon you 10-niglif, I have a pnr poi>o other than that of giving myself a pleasure. I have come to make an appeal." Instantly I saw that in some way 1 had started wrong. "An appeal to make to me?" she asked, breathing coldness fiom every feature of her face. " Vo»," 1 went un with passionate reck lessness. " lialkcil in every other endea vour to learn the truth, 1 hive conic to you whom 1 believe to be noble at the core, for thut help which teems likely to fail us in every oth-t direction; for the word which if it dom not absolutely save your cousin, will at leant put uh upon the track of what will." " 1 do not understand what you mean," returned slie, slightly shrinking. " Mi«« Leavsnworth," pursued I, "it is noedlcsa for me to tell you in what ponition your cousin stands. You who remember tioth the form and drift of the questions put to her at the in-iucst, comprehend it all without any explanation from me. But what you nuv not know i* this, that unless she is epcodily relieved from tho suspicion which justly <t nut hiis attached itself to her name, tho consequrncea which Mich suspicion entails must tall upon her, and—" " Uoo-1 God I" >he eriod, " You do not mean that she will be—" " Subject to arrcm! Yes." It was a blow. Shame, horror, and an guUb, were in every line of her white face. " And all because of tint key i" she mur mnrcd. "Key? How do you know anything about a key ?" " Why,1' she said, limbing painfully, " 1 cannot say ; didn't you tell me V " No," returned 1. "Thepapew, then ?" " The papers have never mentioned it." She grew more ami more agitated. " 1 thought everyone knew. No I did not, either,"1 exclaimed she, in a sudden burst of shame and penitence. " I knew it was a secret, but—O,Mrßaynioiul,it was Klmmore kernelfwho told me." " Eleanore?" " YoB, that last evening she was here ; we wro togethor in the drawing-room." "What did she tell?" " That the key to the library had been in her possession." I could scarcely conceal my incredulity. Eleanore, conscious of tho suspicion with which her cousin regarded her, inform that cousin of a fact which seemed to givo weight to her suspicion 1 I could not believe this. " But you knew it I" Mary went on. " I have revealed nothing tbat I should have kept secrot?" ■' No," said I; " and Miss Leavenworth, it is this thing which makes your cousin's position absolutely dangerous, It is a fact that, laft imcxplainod, must ever link her name with infamy ; a bit of circumstantial evidence no sophistry enn smother, and bo denial obliterate. Only her hitherto spot loss reputation, and the efforts of one who, notwithstanding appearances, bclievos in bor innocence, keeps her so long from the clutches of the ofltccrs of justice. That key, aud the silence preserved by her in regard to it, is sinking her slowly into a pit from which the utmost endeavours of her best friends will soon bo inadequate to ex tricate her." "And you tell we this—" "That"you. may have pity on the poor girl, who will not have pity on herself, and by the explanation of a few circnmtnnccs which cannot be mysteries to you, assist in bringing herfrom under the dreadful shadow that threatens to overwhelm her." "And would you insinuate, sir," «ried she, turning upon me with a look of great anger, " that I possess any knowledge which I have not already made public, con cerning the dreadful tragedy which has transformed our home into a desert; our existence into a lasting horror? Has the blight of suspicion fallen upon m», too; and have you come to accuse mo in my own house " y • "Miss Leavenworth," T ,entreated, "calm yourself. I accuse you of nothing, I only desire you to cnligh'en me as to your cousin's probable motive for this criminating "silence. You cannot bo in ignorance of it. You arc her cousin, almost h»r s'ster, have been at all events her daily companion for years, and must know for whom or for what fhe seals her lips, and conceals facts which, if known, wonld direct suspicion to the rtal criminal —that is, if you really believe what you have hitherto stated, that your cousin is an innocent woman." She not making any answer to this, I rose and confronted her. "Miss Leaven worth, do you believo yonr cousin guiltloss of this crimo, or not ?" "Guiltloss? Eleaaore? 0 my God, if all the world were only as innocent an she !" "Then," paid I, "you must likewise believe that if she refrains from speaking in regard to matters which, to ordinary observers ought to be explained, sbe does it only from motives of kindness towards one less guiltless than herself." "What? No, no, I do not say tbat. What made you think of any such ex planation ?" "The action itself. With one of Elca nore's character, such conduct as hers admits of no other construction. Either she is mad, or she is thiolding another at the expense of hcrsolf." Mary's lip, which had trembled, slowly steadied itself. "And whom have you settled upon, as the person for whom Elea nore thus sacrifices hcTself ?" "Ah,"'said I, "there is where I sock assistance from you. With your knowledge of her history—"

But Mary Leavenworth, sinking haughtily buck into her chair, stopped me with a quiet gesture. " I beg your pardon," said she, " but you make a mistake. I know littloor nothing of Klcauorc'spersonal feeling*. The mystery must be solved by some one besides me." I changed my tactics. " " When Eleanore confessed to you that the missing key had been seen in her pos session, did she likewise inform you where she obtained it, and for what reason she was hiding it ? ' "No." " Merely told you the fact without any explanation '!" 1' Yes," " Ay as not that, a strange piece of gratui tous information for her to give one who, but a few hours before, had accused her. to her face of committiug a deadly crimo ?" "What do you mean," she asked, her voice suddenly linking. " You will not deny, that you were once not only r. ady to believe her guilty, bin that you actually charged her with having perpetrated ihis crime." " Explain yourself," she cried. "Mi-s Leaven worth, do you not remem ber what was said in that room up stairs, when you were alone with your cousin on tlio morning of the inquest, just before Mr. Gryceandmycolf euuied your presence?" Her eyes did not fall, but they filled with sudden terror. "You heard*" she whispered. " I could not help it. I was just outside the door, and—" " What did you hear ?" I told her. " And Mr Gryce ?' " He was at my side." It seemed as if her eyes would devour my face. " Yet nothing was said when you came in J" "No." " You,however, have never forgotten it?' " How could we, Miss Leuvenworth '!" Her head fell forwurd in her haudr, she seemed lost for oue wild moment in a uiilf of darkness. " Aud that is why you come here to-night," she suddenly exclaimed, desperately rousing herself and flashing full of indignation upon me. With that sentence written upon your heart, you in vade my presence, torture me with ques tions—" " Pardon me," I broke io, "' are ray questions such as you, with reasonable regard for the honour of one you are accus tomed to associate with, should hesitate to answer ? Do I derogate from my maohood in asking how aud why you came to muke such un accusation of so grave a nature, at a timo when all the circumstances of the case wore freshly before you, only to insist full ns strongly upon your cousin's inuo ceuce when you found thare was even more cause for yonr imputation than you had supposed." She did not sem to hear me. "0 my cruel fate I" she murmured. " Q ray cruel fate 1" " Mi<B Loavenwertb," said I, rising and Inking my staud before her, "although iherois a temporary estrangement between you and your cousin, you cunuotwish to seem her enemy. Speak then ; let me at least know the name of him for whom she tluu iumulates herself. A hint from you Hut rising, with a strange look to hor feet, she interrupted me with the stem remark, " If you do not know, 1 cannot inform you ; do not ask me, Mr Raymond." And she glanced ac the clock for the second lime. 1 took another turn, "Misa Leavenwortli, you once asked me if a person who had committed a wrong Gunht necessarily to confes it; and I re plied no, unless, by the confession, repara tion could be made, Do you remember?" llur lips moved, but no words issued from them. " I begin to think," I solemnly proceeded, following the lead of her emotion, "that confession is the only wny out ef this diffi culty, that only by the words jou can utter, Eleanore can 1)0 saved from the doom that awaits her. Will you them show yourself a true woman, by responding to my earnott entreaties I" I scemwl to have touched tho rig^ht chord, for she trembled, and a look of wistfulncss filial her eyes. "Oif I could I" »he mur mured. "And why can you not ? You will never be happy till you do. Eleanore per sists in silence, but that is no reason why you should emulate her example. You only make her position more doubtful by "I know ik, but I cannot help myself. Fate has got too strong a hold upon mo ; I cmnot break away." "That is not true, Anyone can oecape from bonds imnginnry as yours," "No, no," cri d sho; "you do not undo'stand." "I undo.stnnd thi», that tho path of rectitude Is a straight one, and that he who steps into devious by-woys is going array." A Ilicker of l'ght, pathetic beyond de scription, (lushed for a moment across her f*co ; hor throat nwe as with one wild nob; her lipi opoiud, she seemed yielding, when —A sharp ring nt the front door bull 1 "O," cried she, sharply turning, "tell him I cannot see him ; tell him—" "Miss Leavenworth," Baid I, taking her by both hands, "never mind the door, nercr mind anything but this; I have asked you a question which involves the myftcry of this wholo affair ; answer me, then, for yonr soul's fake ; tell me what the nnhoppy circumstances were which could Induce yon — " But she tore her hands from mine. " lhe door 1" crlod she ; " it will open, and-" Stepping into the lull 1 nut Thomas comi g up tho basemmt stairs. "Go buck," said I, " I will call you when you aro wanted." With n bow he disappeared. "You expect me to answer," exclaimed she, when 1 le-entercd," now, in a moment ? I cannot." " But-" " Impossible 1" fastening her gaze upon the front door. " Miss Leavonwotth I" She shuddered. "I tear the time will never conjo, if yon do not sposk now." '■ Impossible," she tcitorated. Another twang at the boll. "You hear 1" said she. I wo«t into the hall and called Thomas. "You may open the door now," said I, and moved to return to her sido. But she pointed commandiiigly up stairs. " Loave me I" cried sho, looking at Thomas as if to bid him wait, " I will see you a^ain before I go," said I, and hastened tip stairs. Thomas opem-d the door. "Is Miss Leavenworth in ?" I heard a rich, tremulous voice inquire. "Yes sir," came in the butler's most respectful and mcasurod accents, and lean ing over the banisteis I beheld, to my amazement, the form of Mr. Clavering enter the front hall and move towards the recoption-toom.

XVIII. ON TUB STAIRS,

You cannot say I did it,

—Macbeth.

Excited, tremulou", filled with wonder at this unlooked-for evint, I paused for a moment to collect my scattered sense?, when the sound of a low, monotonous voice breaking upon my car from the library, I went towards it and found that it was Mr Harwell reading from his late employer's manuscript. It would bo difficult for me to describe the eii'ect which this discovery made upon mo at this time. There, in that room ot late death, withdrawn from the turmoil of the world, a hermit in his skeleton-lined cell, this man employed himself ia reading and re-reading with passive interest, tho words of the dead, while above and below, human beings agonized in doubt and shame. Listening I heard those words: " By these means their native rulers will not only lose their jealous terror of our in stitutions, bat acquire an actual curiosity in regard to them. Opening the door I went in. " Ah 1 y»u are lato, sir ;" murmured ho, rising and bringing forward a chair. " Yes," replied I, with my thoughts on those two below, " I am afraid you are not well," lie went on. I roused myself. "I am not ill," I returned,and pulling the papers towards me, bogan looking them over. But the words danced before my eyes, and I was obliged to give up all attempt at work for that night. 111 fear that I shall not be able to assist you this cveuing, Mr Harwell. The fact is, I find it difficult to give proper attention to this business, while the man who by a dastardly assassination ha« made it necos eary, goos unpunished." The Secretary in his turn pushed the papers aside, as if moved by a sudden dis taste of them, but gave mo no answer, " Yon told me when you first came to me with news of this fearful tragedy, that it was a mystery ; but it is one which must be solved, Mr Harwell; it is wearing out the

lives of too many that we love and respect." The Secretary gave me .a look. "Miss Eleanore ?" lie murmured. "And Miss Mary," I went on, "myself, you, and many others." ' " You have miuiifi-stod much interest in ih'! mailer from the beginning," he_said, methodically dipping his pen into the iuk.

1 stared at him in amazement. "And you," snid I, "do you-take no interest, in that which involves not only tho safety, hut. tfio happiness and honour of the family io which you lia\o dwelt so long?' He looked at mv with increased coldness. " I have requested, Mr Raymond, that you would not converse with me upon tliis sub ject. It is not one which lam fond of discussing." And he arose. "l]iuf.oii(.liiu.MH haH noibiug to do with it," I persisted. "If you know any facts conhected with this affair, which have not yet boen made public, it is manifestly your duty to state Ihnu. The position which Miss Eleanore occupies at this time is one which shonlil arouse the sense of justice i» every tuio breast; and if you—" " U 1 know anything which would serve io release her from this unhappy position, Mr Raymond, ishouldhavaspoKenongago." I bit my lip, iweary of these continued balllings, and rose also. " If you have nothing more to say," he went on, "aud feel utterly disinclined to woik, why I bhould bo glad to excuse my Bclf.ns I have an engagement out." " JJouot letnie keep you," I said bitterly. " I can take care of myself."

Jle turned upon me with a short stare as if this display of feeling was well-nigh in comprehensible to him, am) then, with a <iuiet, almost compassionate; smile left the mom. I heard him go upstairs, felt the jar when his room door closed, and satislied 1 was indeed to be left alone again, Bat di'Wii to enjoy my splitudo. lint mlitude in that I'uO n was unbearable. 13y the time Mi- Harwell ft^aiu descended,! felt that I could remain no longer, and ib-pping out, into the hall, told him that if ho had no .objection 1 would accompany him for a short stroll. lie bow< d a still'assent and hu.stcned oil before mo down the .stairs. ]!y the time 1 had closed the library door, he was half way to the foot, and I was just remarking to myself upon the unpliability of his figure and the awkwardness of his carriage as seen from my present staud-point, when suddenly I saw him Btop.clutch the. bannis ter at hi* siile, and hang there with a startled, deathly expression upon his half turned countenance, that fixed mo for an instant where I was in breathless astonish ment and then caused me to rush down to his side, catch him by the arm aud cry, " What is it ? what is the matter ?"

But tin listing out one powerful hand he punned me upwards. "Go back," he whispered,in a voioe shaking with the in tensest emotion, "go back."' And citching me by tho arm, he literalty pulled me up the stairs. Arriveu at the top he loosened his grasp, and leaning,quivering from head to foot, over the bannisters, glared below. " Who is that ?" he cried " Who is that man ? What is his name ?"

Startled in my turn, I bent beside him, and s:iw Henry Clavcring come out of the reception-room and cross the hall. "That ia Mr Clavering," I whispered, with all the self-possession I could mutter, " do you know him ?" Mr'llarwell fell back agninst th- opposite wall. "Clavoring, Clavertng," he mur mured with quaking lips: tiu-n suddenly bouiultnfj forward, chuched the railing before him, and fixing me with his eyes, from which all the stoic rnlmnes* had gone down forever in flame and frenzy, gurjilcd into my ear,—'• You «»n' to know who the assassin of Mr Leavcnwortli is, do you? look there, then, that is the man, Claver ing !" And with a lonji he bounded from my side, and swaying like a drunken man, disappeared from my gaze in tho hall abovo. My first impulse was to follow him. Hushing up stairs, 1 knocked at the door of his room, but no response came to my RUmmons, I the.i called his name in the hall, but without avail :he wan det rmineJ not to show himself. Resolved that ho should not thin escape me, I returned to the library ami wrute him n short note, in which 1 asked for nn explanation of liis tremendous accusation. saying that I should be in mv rooms tlio next evening at nix, when I should expect t') sco him. Thin done 1 descended to rejoin Mary. But tho evening was destined to bo full of disappointments. She had retired to her room while I was in tha library, and I had lost tho interview from which I expected so much. " Th- woman is slippery as an <-cl," I inwardly commented, pacing the hall iv my chagiiu. " Wrapped in mystery, she expects me to feel for her the respect due to an open and frank nature." I was ahoiit to b-iive the house, when I saw Thomas descending the stairs with a let'or in his hand. "Miss Leavnworth's compliments, sir," said he, hand uu me the notu : " and she is too fatigued to remain below this cveninu." I moved aside to read it, feeling a little onnßcienc-strikon ns 1 traceil the lurried, trembling handwriting through the follow ing words. 1 You ask more than I can sire. Mutters must he rccoivoil ns thnjr are without explana tion from me. It is the Rricf of my lifn to deny you, hut I have no choice. Clod lorgivo us all and keep us from despair. M." And below, '■As we cannot moot now without embarrass-: ment, it would lio bolter for uu to hear our bur tlons in silenco and apart. Mr Hiirwoll will visit yon. Farewell !" As I was crossing Thirty-sec ml Street, I heard a quick foot'tcp behind mo, and turning, saw Tlio-nas at my side. "Excuse me, si'," said he, "but 1 have something a little particular t > any to you. When yon asked me the other night, what s <rt of a person tho gcntlcmnn was who called on Mis- Elcanoro Hie evening of the murler, I didn't answer y> uas I should The fact is. tho detectives had been talking to me about that very thing and I felt shy ; but, sir, I know you aie a friend of the lamily, and I want to tell you now that that same geutlomiin, whoever he was, —Mr Robbins he called himself then, —was at tho house again to-night, sir, and the name he gave me this time to carry to Alias Leaven worth, was Clavering. Yes, sir," he went on, seeing me start; " and as I told Molly, he acts quoer for a stranger. 'When he camo the other night, ho hesitated a long time before asking for Miss Eleiinore, and when I wanted his name, took out the card and wrote the one I told yon of, sir, with a look on his face a little peculiar for a caller; besides —" "Will." " Mr Raymond," the butler went on, in a low, excited tone, edgaig up very closely to niuin the daikncfs, " there is something I have not told any living being but Molly, sir, which may be of use to those as wishes to find out who committed this murder." " A.fact or a suspicion J" I inquired, "A tact, sir ; winch I bc<r your pardon for troubling you with at this time, but Molly will (;ivc me no rest unless I spcik of it to you or Mr Oryee, her feelings being so worked up on Hannah's account, whom we all know is innocent, though folks do dare to say as how she must lie guilty just be cause she is not to be found the minute they want her" " Hut this fact,'11 urged. "Well, the fact is this. You see—l would tell Mr Gijco," he resumed, uncon scious of my anxiety, "but 1 have my fears of detectives, sir,they catch you up fo quick at times, and seem to.thirik you "know so much more than you loilly do."A / 5 .. " .But this fact " 1 a.aiu broko.in. " Oh yes,1 sir, tan fact is,thru lhat night, the one of the murder you know; I saw Mr Clavering, Itobbins, or "whatever his name is.enter-thc houscybut neither I nornnyone elsosawhim go out of it/nor do I kuow that he did." " What do you mean ?' "Well, sir, what I mean is this. When I came down from Miss Elcanorc and told Mr Kobbins, ail he called himself at this time, that ray mistress was ill and unable to see him (the word she gavo me, sir, to do liver) Mr Kobbins, instead of bowing and leaving tho house a« most gentlemen would have done, stopped into the reception-room and sat down. He may have felt sick, he looked pale cnoti eh; at any rate he asked me for a glass of water. Not knowing any reason then for suspicionnting anyone's ac tions, 1 hnmcdia'cly went down to the kitchen for. it, leaving him there in the receptijn-room alone. But before I could get. it, I heard the front door close. 'What's that?' said Molly, who was helping me, fir. ' 1 don't know,' said I, ' unless it's the gentleman has gut tired ot Waiting and gone.' 'li he's goue ho won't water,' she said. So down I sot the pitcher and upstairs I came, and sure enough he was gone, or so I thought then. But who knows, sir, it he was not in that room or iv tbc drawiDg-room which was dark that night, all the time I was a shutting up of the house ?" I made no reply to this. I was more startled than I cared to reveal. " You see, sir, I wouldn't speak of such a thing about any person thai comes to see the young ladies, but we all know some one who was in tho house that night, murdered my master, and as it was not Hannah—" "|You aay that Miss Eloanore refused to see him," I interrupted in the hope that the

simple suggestion would be enough to elicit further dotails of his intervicVjwith Ek adore. fv, ffl " Yes, sir. When «he first looked at the card she showed a little hesitation,} but in a moment she grew very Hushed in' thpiace and bade me say what I told you. I fhould never have thought oi it aj>aiti if Iliad not seen him come blazoning and bold into tlie house this evening, with a new name on his tongue. Indeed, and Ido not like to think auy evil of him now, but Molly-avould have it I should speak to you, sir, and ease my mind,—and that is all, sir." When I arrived home that night, 1 entered into my memorandum book a new list of ■suspicious"'ch'cnnistartces, but this lime with the letter " C " at the top instead of "ii\" (To he continued.) ■

Church of England Views of the Salvation Army.

THE CONVOCATION OF CANTERBUEY. TJIEIB Lordships of the Upper House re assembled yesterday in Quean Anne's Bounty Offices—the Archbishop of Canter bury presiding.

Tin; Salvation Army,—His Grace said he hod to lay before their lordships a numerously signed gravamen from the members of the Lower House on the sub ject of what was commonly called the Sal vation Army.—The Bishop of Winchester regarded it'as of the highest importance that the attention of the bishops should be called tv the subject, though it might, be difficult to mice uny direct steps. They would be able to gain information, and be able, ut any rate, to give advice to the clergy. Tito Salvation Army had been working in bis diocese a gieat deal, and soinu of the most unsatisfactory scents had been enacted theiv, particularly at Basing* stoke. This had led him to inquir.-, and as far as he had been able to le;<ru theiv had been nothinir like false doctrine put forth by tbe Salvation Army. They con fined themstlvei to very fehnple truths - namely, the siufulnesa of men andsulvation through our Lord .Jesus Cliritt, '1 heir proceedings might have been somtwuut extravagant,' but they bad induced a rD ra irkable degree of sobriety among people whom they influenced, abstention from smoking even having beeu obtained. Some members of the Army had been most ciuelly treated, but ihey had not shown themselves exasperated, and had afterwards prajed earnestly for tbeir prosecutors. Tuese things showed, he thought, that all though they might not bo able to adopt all the principles of this Arnn, they should certaiuly not turn a cold shoulder to them. He wasmforund that they were not antagonistic to ihe Church, but had, on the contrary, been inclined to asK for the countenance of the Church. The Salvation Army was reaching a mass of the popula tion Delow what was often regarded as the lo\yest, and a display of a spirit of concilia t on and kindnebs might limit anything in» their practices which was oh'y ctionable, ami enable them to make the best use ut the system. He moved that a committee of bishops should be appointed to'consider the subject, in aceordiiucaJvith tbc prayei of the gravamen.—The BPlioo of LlanduiV Slid the subject was one of g/eat interest to them as a Church. The \\ elsh people, for whom he vpoke, wort'inipa-<>ioutd and feryeir, and tuc Salvation Army hud effec ted a footing io bis diocese. Tuerc was no doubt that many of their practices were ex travagant and objectionable, but he was not aware of anvtuing'to, object to in their ■ enets. It was his otiinionth.it the Church of England miglu be greatly helped if the co-operation of such a bo'ly i could be enlis tcl, and he therefore b'gged to second the motion.- The Bishop of Oxford considered that the movt-r of the motion had,jperhaps unconsciously, ov. r-stated the wish of the Sjlvation rtimy i* come under jthe gui dance of the Church. LAsJhe' was infor med that wns not at'all their desire.- Tlie Bishop of Exeter thought that they slionlu obtain accurate information as to the Army before 'taking any decided steps. -The motion w&b then rgreed to.— In his annual visitation charge at Eccles liall, Nortli Stafford-hire, on Wednesday morning, the Yen. Sir Lovelace Mainer, archdeacon ot btoke upon-Trcut, referring to the Salvation Army, said; th« movement deserved to be watched with interest and sympathy, as well us to see what w«uld ooinc ofit. It claimed to have already 13,393 ctliciont speaker*; Perhaps these would not acquit themselves to tlie iatis faction ot relined and educated audiences, but it was not with su'-ji that tuey^ had to do. They sp"ko in a language understood by their hearen;, and! they were'moving the hearts and rescuing from sinful habit* thousand* wbom the Church had hitherto failed to reach^ On .Tuesday night the vicar of Oldham, the Hey» A. J. J.: Cache miiille, presided at the'services in connec tioa with tbe Salvation Army at Oldham In the course of his remarks he said it was urged that the financial position, of the Army was not what was called satisfactory tn the public; but he \y»s not interested in th»t question,' and, besides, he remarked that the giftsimade were purely voluntary. No one was taxed to pay for the .Army ; wVatevcr wnifgivcn waifti'1 free* ill offering. Even if all the report* concerning General Booth were to be credited'- e|ven if General Booth was as bad us Judas' lseaript, and carried the bag nnd appropria'cd ■*»hat it contained to bis own tise—even if ; nll this was true, it would rot litop the progress of the work |of the Salvation Army, j Thesf wore some reasons why he did not trouble himself about their financial position. The Army, he held, was doing- good work in misine the lower clnssrs, and such a btdy was required in the present position of society. !

The Poet Longfellow and the Queen.

Ax account of Longfellow's description of his reception by her Majesty, in the Throne room at Windsor, is wnrthfextracting :— "An imposing lady inSblack, with flowing drapery, came quickly forward to greot me. It was her Majesty Quocn Victoria; She extended her hand, andfj&ffcred to take it. "What," I interrupted,\.'i-tUd you not bend and offer to kiss it ?" " No," skid he timidly ; " I was not ].th,oa familiar or acquainted wick Court bjiquette, as I am now. She oilbred 1110 her."hand evid'ntly to shake, and I shook it." '" Why;" said I, "she is the most inexorably exic/eante of all sovereigns. You must have horrified her." "I presume I did,' said he simply. •'Now I think of it, she was disconcerted, I suppose for that reason ; but she rallied graciously, aud asked me about America and myself. She explained :' We s-peakof America first, because you are America's poet. Tennyson is ours.' 'Tennyson is the world's poet, madam,' said J, bowing gravely She smiled in gratified acquies cence, and continued : 'You ate very gen erous.' Her Majesty was then pleased to converse on general topic*, but persistently f;ot back to the subject of myself. ;I felt she was piqued about something at. first, and her last words wore :' We shall not forget you;' adding, with a laugh, f why, even all my servants read your poems I" The poet thru glanced lip, and, with an almost comical expression, be said : "'What do you think she-intended by it ? I was nonplussed;, and ,to-day, although many years have passed, I am undecided as to what her Majesty's real meaning was."

The Phœnix Park Tragedy.

SAD STATE OF MISS BUiUCE,

Veky melancholy intelligence is published respecting Miss Buvkri, the sister of the late Under-Secreta'ry for Ireland. She felt most kotnly the death of her brother, throwing herself upon his remains and giving way to paroxysms of arid grief. It was with the greatest difficulty Miss Burke was induced to permit the funeral. Her friends removed her from Dublin, bnt despite all efforts to divert her thoughts, these inclined stead fastly iv one direction. Miss Burke ia con vinced that ber brother is not dead. She sits at the window of any room in which she may be placed, for she remaius wherever she ia taken, apparently oblivious of; all her surroundings. Whenever the i sound of wheels or footsteps outside of the house falla upoii her ears tbe unfortunate lady cries out that her.brothor is coming, adding, " I told you he was not dead," From the moment she wai informed of the murder of Mr Burke she has not shed a Binglo tear, nnd this rigid form of grief constitutes one of tho gravest of the physicians'difficulties. Miss Burkes condition is now extremely precarious and is exciting the most painful, anxiety, !>... ;■! v.m •■ i■ ■ .

COMIC VARIETIES.

A crying shame—Our neighbour's baby, Matrimonial arithmetic. —Twice oho ara one. A man may be very sharp, and yet never cut an acquaintance. Hint to young bachelors.—Pay your bills before you pay yonr addresses. "Very good, but rather pointed," an the codfish said when he swallowed tlie bait, Bnshfnlness U often like the plating on spoons—when it wears off it shows" tha brass. An lowa man advertises in the local journal* that ho will prosecute any saloon, keeper who sells him liquor. " I am having myself taken in oil," said a well-known physician, complacently, looking round. "Cod-liver, I supple* growled a wit. The crow is not so bad a bird after all. It never shows the white feather, and never complains without caws. A New York merchant who advertised, recently for a boy found one in a basket on his doorstep next moruing. " Necessity is the mother of invention," but it has never been accurately ascertained who is the father. Which is the most destructive letter in the English aphabet? M, because it tutus " creation " into "cratmvinn.." We think that a man carries the borrow, ing principle a trifle too far when he a»ks us to lend him our ears. In view of tlie practices of some coal, dealers, we would respectfully ask if means cannot be devised to have them see the error of their weighs? , An American says that, from his late experience of Engii-h weather, he should imagine that, " liain Britannia ! " ought to be ai popular in England as "Hail, Columbia !" is in the States. " Madam," said a cross-tempered physician to a patient, "if women were admitted into paradise, their tongues would make it a purgatory." " And some phvsi vians, if allowed to practise there," replied the lndy, " would soon make it a desert," A capable newspaper man does more goi.d in three weeks than a President of the United Status in twelve months, yet no Senator gets up to propose that the c, n. m, shall go out with a pension. When ooe is in the act of lifting his hat to a lady whom ho supposes to be an acquaintance, it requires a good deal of tact to make believe that he is only scratch ing his head when he finds slie is a stranger. A prosy old fallow was lecturing his friends on domestic behaviour, and boast, ingly said, " I've been married thirty years, and have never given my wife one cos« word." " That's because you never dared to, uncle," said a litile nephew; "if you had, aunty would have made you jump," Silence fell upon the circle. An anxious mother, in Scotland, was taking leave of her son on his departure for England, and giving him all good advice, "My dear Sandy, my am bairn, caagsou-h, and get all the siller ye can from the sour*, hron«—tak' everything ye can; but the English are a brave boxia' peop c, and take care o' them, Sandy—never fight a bald man, for ye canna cutch him by the hnir " Sometimes, not often, whon the days are short, And peaceful sits tliobull-dog by tbc gate, ITi'r papa gives a ?udden. gloomy snort Remarking that the hour is rather late: I hear the old man coming up tlio hall. The drowsy murmur ofTiis awful boot. Grabbing my yellow ulster like a pall I get a running start and off I scoot- Sometimes. A young man wh> sent hi* g'nl a ten. dollar valentine on tha 14th has been given the mitten. She told him, the next tima he called, that her father said, and she agreed with him, that a young man who : would squander ten dollars out of his small weekly salary for a valentine must have a soft soot in his cranium, and needed a guardian much more than a wife, fle didn't stay long after that.

The Needle Disease.

The tendency of needles to infest (he human body lias long been known, These trouble* some parasites attack women almost exclu sively, doubtless for the reason that the softness of the feminine tissues renders it easy for need les to drive their galleries and pursue their devious courses. Whether needles are present in the system in an acute or chronic form they are rarely dangerous. A woman who swallows a needle is pretty sure to feel occasional pains of an apparently neuralgic character, hut this is the chief inconvenience which she suffers. Sooner or later the needle is certain to come to the surface, where it can- be easily captured. Cases have been known of women who have become infested by dozens, of needles, all of which have harmlessly made their way to her exterior. The needle disease, therefore, while it affords a curious study to the scientific inves tigator, is not regarded by physicians ac an affair of much consequence, or as one which calls for any particular treatment.

Needles have never been supposed to be hereditary, but a recent case reported by a physician of eminence proves that needles may be inherited. A lady accidentally tan a ■eedle into her foot twenty years ago, and it lay apparently dormant in her system so many years that its existence was almost forgotten. In 1878 she was married, and a year alter the birth of her infant daughter the needle made its appearance in the infant's shoulder. There could be no doubt that it was the original needle by which the mother had been attacked in IS6O, for it was of a peculiar and now. obsolete pattern, and the mother distinctly remembered that needles' of that pattern were in use at the time of her attack. There can be no doubt that the infant inherited the needle from her mother, and that,henceforth physicians will expect to find a, tendency to. needles in children either of whose' parents has suffered from the presence of needles in the tissues. As it is asserted that people hove died from needles, although there are very few such cases on record, the insurance companies, will doubtlessadd to the'questions which they put to candidates for insurance, "Did your father or mother ever swallow needles, and, if so, how many and of what kind—sewing, darning, or carpet?" The needle disease reminds one of a new and remarkable disease which has attacked a' lady residing in Chicago, 0hi0... She is married, and of the age oi forty-seven, and has, hitherto been unusually exempt from sickness. Three Weeks ago she began'to cut a new set of teeth. ' That an adult should cut a new set of teeth is not an event without 'a parallel, but in this instance the Chicago lady's teeth did not; appear in her mouth. They canie to the surface in the most miscellaneous manner, so that she fairly bristled with teeth from head to. foot. Thirty-three teeth had thus been cuUt, the latest advices, and more were'1 confidently expected. As fast as the teeth appeared they were gathered by the lady's liusband,1' \yho , intends to place them on-exhibition;at the ' rooms of a leading local dentist. This phe nomenon is explained by the doctors much as': they explain the phenomena of the needle disease. They insist that the Chicago lady must have accidentally swallowed a lull set of false teeth, and that these, becoming detached from the plate, have worked their way to her surface. This is probably true. The lady, however, denies having ever swallowed her ' teeth, though she admits that three years ago she did own a full set of false teeth, which she ' lost, but which she still believes were either mislaid byj her or) loaned, to some friend whom she cannot recall, and who failed to return them. If she really did swallow them, ■ it is evident that false teeth, like needles, have, the power to explore the recesses of the human body, and to make their way to any. extremity with ease aiid certainty. It is to be hoped that, hereafter men and women who are addicted to false teeth will recognise the impolicy of swa • lowing them, and that the medical faculty will ■ not be required to take notice of a second case of a human being infested by teeth in the. muscles. . ' ' Still more remarkable is the case of a Cin cinnati German who accidentally contracted , the marble disease. He was accustomed whenever he was in the least degree excited to drink a gallon of beer, and for that purpose kept •■> large pewter measure, holding precisely a gallon, on his dining-room table. Being one day engaged in an earnest poik argument with , a neighbour who had called at his house. He hastily took up the measure and drained jt. There was only half .1 gallon of beer m the measure, although the servant girl thought she had filled it. The German's small boy liM , taken the liberty of putting all his marbles in the measure on the previous evening, and had thus half filled it. In his excitement the worthy German swallowed the entire two quarts of marbles, and a month later broke oni ■ with an eruption of .assorted marbles ol all sizes and materials, greatly to the relief of the small boy, who had mourned his treasures as being hopelessly lost. Four hundred ana seven marbles made their way to the surface ot the suffering man, but, after they had been gathered by the physician and nurse, ne recovered, and, although his surface is Dadiy pitted, he is now as well as usual. _ , And, finally, the most remarkable thing ot all is the ease with which the public swallows these stories of needle, teeth, and marble diseases. Of all feats of swallowing, this « undoubtedly the most wonderful, and there seems to be hardly a man, woman, or child in the community who is not capable of swal lowing any and all stories of this general character, '..-; . <

STAR SATURDAY SUPPLEMENT, AUGUST 12, 1882.