THE STAR SATURDAY SUPPLEMENT.

AUCKLAND, SATURDAY, JULY 1, 1882.

THE LEAVENWORTH MURDER BY ANNA KATHERINE GREEN.

Authoress of "A Steanob Disappearance " and "Tim Swokd of Damocles."

BOOK I.—THE PROBLEM.

"A GREAT CASE."

A dcod of dreadful noto.-MACBKTH. I HAT) been v junior partner in the firm of Voeley, Carr & Raymond, attorneys and eoniuellfois at liiw, for about a yea; when one moruing, in the temporary absence of both Mr Voeley and Mr Carr, there came into our ollice a young man whoso whole appearan c was so indicative of haste and agitation that I involuntarily rose as ho ap proached, and advanced to meet him. ''.What is t'lo nutter, sir ?" I inquired. " You have no bad news to toll me, I hope." "I have come to see Mr Veeley; is he

in?" . ~ " No," I ropliod; "he was unexpectedly called away this morning to Washington; cannot bo h-uno boUo to-morrow; but if you will make your business known to me—" , "To you sir?" interrupted ue.turning a very cold, 'but steady eye on mine ;then seeming >o be satislied with his scrutiny, .continued, "There is no reason why I shouldn't: my business is no secrot. I came to inform him that Mr Leavenworth is dead." . "Mr Leavenworth !" I exclaimed, fall ing back a, step Mr Leavenworth was an old cli nt of our firm, to say nothing ot his , being n particu'ar friend of Mr Veeley. "Yes, murdered j shot through the head by some unknown person while sitting at his library table " " Shot! murdered ! M I could scarcely believe my ears. What! the genial wnole soul'Kl old gentlemao, who, but a week be fore had stood in that very spot, twitting roe with my bachelorhood and asking me in tho same breath to come to Ida house and sec what he had th»re to show me ! I stared at the man beside me, half incredu lously. " How ? when?" I gasped. "Last night. At least, so %ye suppose. Ho was not found till this morning. I am Mr Leavenworth's private secretary," he explained, "and live in the family. It was a dreadful shoclc," he went on, " especially to the ladies "

"Dreadful!"! repeated. "Mr Voeley will be overwhelmed by it."

•' Tuey are all alone," continued he in a low business-like way I afterwards fo'ind to be in«cpirable from the man; "the Misses Leavcnwrtb. I mean—Mr Leaven worth's n-eces; and as an inquest is to be held the c to-day, it is deemed proper they should have some one capable of advising them. As Mr Veeley was their uncle's best friend, they naturally sent me for him, but ho being absent, I don't know what to do or where to go." "We'l," replied I, " I am a stranger to the ladies, but if I can be of any assistance to them, my respect for their uncle is such—"

The expression of the secretary's eye stopped me. Without seeming to wander from my faoe, its pupil had suddenly dilated till it appe&red to embraca my whole person within its scope. " I don't know," remarked he finally, a slight frown testifying to the fact that he was not altogether pleased with the turn affairs were taking. " Perhaps it would be best The ladies must not be left alone—"

"Say no more," interrupted Ij "I will fo." And sittine down I despatched a nrricd message to Mr Veeley, after wbicb, and the few other preparations necessity, I accompanied the sccrcary to the street. " Now," said I, " tell mo all you know of this frightful affair." " All I know ? A few words will do that. I left him last niaht sitting as usual at .his library table and found him this morning, seated in the sami place almost in the same position, but with a bullet hole in his head as large as the end of my little finger," "Dead?"

" stone dead."

11 Horrible 1" I exclaimed. Then after ajmoment, " Could it have been a suicide ?" "No The pistol with which the deed was committed is not to be f'Und."

"But if it was a murder, there must have been some motive. Mr Leavenworth was too benevolent a man to have enemies, and if robbery was intended—" " There was no robbery. -There was no thing missing," he again interrupted. "The whole affair is a mystery."

" A mystery ? "•

" An utter mystery." Tv irng, I looked at my informant curiouly The inmate of a house in which a mysterious murder had occurred was rather an interesting object. But the gqid featured and yit totally unimpres«iv countenance of the man beside me offered but Hi tie basis for oven tlie wildest imagina tion to work upon, and glancing almost immediately away I asked, " Are the ladie3 very much overcome ? " He took'at least a half dozen steps before replying, ".It would be unatural if they were not," he said at la*t; and whether it was the expression of his face at the time or the nature of the leply itself, I felt1 that in epeaking of these ladies to this uninteres ting self-possessed secretary of the late _Mr • lioavenw^jjv, I was somehow teading «P°n 'Iflgero'iis kHJffiK.^., As liheard' they . werr very accomplished worsen, I was not together pleased at .thin dtkt.rnyery. It was thoroforfe; withaentoin consilijiou«nes9 of relief that I saw a Fifth, avenuty? stage approach. Jii" ''! We will defer our conversation,1!; said '. I. "Here's, the-stage." *Ljt Bnt once seated within it, we soonVais eovered that inte course upon suciji a subject was impossible. KmployingJ&the time, therefore, ia running over in ray mfipß<f what'l knew of Mr Leayeovorth, Ifouinu that my knowledge was limited to the bar* fact of his being a retired merchant of jgl»Bv wealth und fine social position, who in (^e fault of possessing children of his own, h;< al> Ukan into his home two nieces, one/. 01 ■ whom had already been declared his ]?»«* oss. To be sure I had heard Mr Vtpey ■speak of his eccentricities, giving as «&'/?* ' -stance this, very fact of his ranking a w-.l"la favour of oue niece to the litter exclusion of the other, but of his habits of life [»"» " with the world at large, I kff*ew little or nothing. i >.. There was a great crowd in front ofglllo house wlien we arrived there, and i ■\$ vu*- imrely time to obierve that it was a corner dwelling of unusual depth as woll as wid|«ii when I was seized by the throng.and carried itiuito to the foot of the broad stone Bte;™. Extricating myself, though with some din?* «ulty, owing to the impbrtnMties of a boo*' Vkxck and butcher-boy,■ who seamed ;*»'° 'think that by dinging to WJ arms tlyey enight be able.to smuggle them/ielvca irj'to the very scene of the tragedy, I mount" eu iSie steps, and'finding the'Bffiratary p>y eoinc unacßoantablo good fortnna ctaoeu to myflido.huriiedlyM.ngthebnH Imm«!=r,;;-iy the door opened, and a face I recognise! us that of one of our city detectives, apptfar:^ in the gap,- ■ , .' ' I "MriGryce-1" I exclaimed. .;* " The same," replied he. " Come in, ;! ft" Kaymnndj" And drawing u« quietly it?»° the house, ho shut the door on thed|a?*P pointed crowd withont. "I- trust you t^re not surprised t> sco me here," said he,ho,« ing oat Ha hand, with a tide glanco at W7 companion. ■*< , ' !'. Y'f > Oi " returned I. Thed with a vagtMe idea that I ought to introduce the yonj|B man at my side, continued, "Uvs is k\ r -~lilr' , , -tWW" ""* but I dcrf not know your name," I said turniofj wiiM ■ aglauee of Jn^ik." towmrA.-. %ar^m>a.tyoa ''.': —"the private.secretary-ex Ane ma ;,mt L«ava»-worth,'- f I hastened to add, ; ; "(O " rctui'tsc^^a, "thepetrctaTyt .'iho : ! coroner has been askiag to" yea, -sir." -•- ', ' ■'. ■■',' The coroner is here,then," wsri: i. " Yes; the jury have just gone upstairs, io.visw the body; Ayoiild you like to^ follow ihentftfri'"! ".■■' ''■} ■■' -: '". "-' ' ■' ■ "No,"Bai<iLL *'It is not necessary. I . tovcmeiely cow in the hope of being of

some assistance to Ihc young ladies. Mr Veeley is away." "And you thought the opportunity too food to be lost," he went on; "just so. till n-iw that you are here and as the case promises to be a marked one, I shouM think that m a rising yomu lawyer, you would wish to make join self acquaiutod with it in all its details. Bin follow your own judgment." I made an effort and overcame my repug nance. "I will go," said I. ".Very well then," he replied, " follow

But just as I set foot on the stairs I heard the jury descending, so drawing back with Mr Gryce into the iccess between the re ception room and parlour I had time to re mark, •' The young man says that it could not have been the work of a burglur." " Indeed !" fixing his eye on a door-knob near by. '' That nothing has been found missing -" " And that the f istenings to the house were all found secure this morning; just so. " " He did not tell me Unit. In that case"— and I shuddered—"the murderer must have b en in the houso all night." Mr Gryce smiled darkly at the door-knnb. "It has a dreadful look I" cxc aimed I. Mr Gryco -immediately frowned at the door knob.

And here lot me say that Mr Gryc°, the detective, was not the thin, wiry individual with a shrewd eye that seema to plunge into tho core of your being and pounce at once upon its hilden secret, that you are dnnbtles9 expecting to see. Mr Gryce was a port'y, comfortable praonago with au eye that never pounced—that did not even rest—on you. If it rested anywhere, it was always on some insignificant object in your vicinity, some vase, inkstand, book or but ton. These things he would seem to tako into his confidence, make the repositories of his conclusions, but you—you might as well be the steeple on Trinity Churcti, for all the connection you ever appeared to have with him or.his thought-". At present then, Mr Gryce was, as I have already suggested, oa intimate terms with the door-knob. "A dreadful look," I repeated. Bia eye shifted to tho button on my sleeve. "Come," he said, " the coast is clear at last." . Leading the way, he mounted iho stairs, but stopped on the upper landing. "Mr Raymond," said he, " I am not in tho habit of talking much about tho secteta of my profession, but in thi* case everything de pends upon getting the right clew at the start. We have no common villainy to deal with here; genius has been at work. Now someiimes an absolutely unioitiat-d mind will intuitively catch at something which the most highly trained intellect will miss. If such a thing should occur, remember that lam your man. Don't go round t ilking, but come to mo. F*.r this is going to be a great case. Now come on." " But the ladies ?"

"They are in the rooms above ; in grief, of course, but tolerably compose'! tor all, 1 hear." And advancing to a door, ho pushed it open and beckoned me in. All was dark for a mom- nt, but presently my eyes becoming accustomed to the place, I saw that we were in the library.

" It was here that ho was found," paid he j "in this room and upon this very spot." And advancing he laid his haud on the end of a large, baize covered table that, together with its attendant chnirs, occupied the centre of the room. " Y»u see for yourself that it is directly opposite the door," and, crossing the floor, he paus-d in front of the threshold of a narrow passage way, opening into a room beyond, "As the murdered man was discovered sitting in this chair, and consequently with his back towa ds the passage way, the aisassin must have advanced through the doorway to deliver his shot, pausing let us say about here." And Mr Gryce planted his feet firmly upon a certain spot in the carpet, about a foot from the thicshold before mentioned.

"But-" I hastened to interpose. "There is no room for but," ho cried. "We have studied the situation." And without deigning to dilate upon the sub ject, he turned immediately about and stepping swiftly before me, led tho way into the passage named. " Wine cl< set, clothes clo et, washing apparatus, towel rack," expl lined lje, waving his hand from fide to side as.~ we hurried through, finishing with "Mr Leavenworth's privato apartment," as that room in all its elegance opened upon us. Mr Leavenworth's private apartment 1 It was here then that it ought to be, the horrible blood-curdling it thatyestorday was a living breathing man. Advancing to the bed that was hung with heavy curtains, I raised my hand to put them back, when Mr Gryce, drawing thoin from my grasp, d:s e'osed lying upon the pillow a cold, calm face looking so natural, I involuntarily started.

"His death was too sudden to distort the features," said he, turning the head to one side in a way to make visible a ghas'ly wound in the back of the cranium. " Such a hole as that sends a man out of the world without much notice.. The surgeon will convince you it could never have been in flicted by himself. It is a cose of deliberate mnrder. \ Horrified, I drew hastily back, when my glance fell upon a door situated directly opposite me in the fide of the wall towards the hall. It appeared to be the only ou'let from the room with the exception of the passage through which we had entered, and I could not help wondering if it was through tilers' tl;c ngsqissin bad come on his round abiut course to the . library. But Mr Grycc, seemingly observant of. my glance, though his own was fixed ifpba the phan delier, made has'o to remark, as if in reply to the inquiry ia'riiy face, " Found locked on tho inside} may have comb that way and may not ,• we don't pre tend to say." Observing that the bed was undisturbed in, its arrangement, 1 remarked, " fie had not retired then ?"

" No; the tragedy must be ten hours old. Time for tho murderer to have studied the situation and provtd. d for all contingen cies."

" The murderer t Whom do you suspect ?" I whispered. He iooJcod impassively at the ring on rfiy finger . , "h'-> ;' :i s."/. i. ' Every one and nobody. It i< not for me to suspect, but to_ detect." And dropping the curtain into i slormcr position be led mo from the room. '.

The coroner's inquest being now in ses sion, I felt a strong desire to be present, so requesting Mr' Gryce to inform the iadies tbat Mr Vecley being absent from town, I had come as one. of his partners, to render them any assistance they might require on so melancholy an occasion, 1 proceeded to the large pafJonr blow and took my seat among tho various persons there assembled.

11. THE CORONER'S INQUEST,

The baby figure of the giant mass Of things to come, —Troilus and Crkssida. For a few momenta I sat dazed by the suddou ilood ql light that grpejted me from the many open windows, Jtn,en as the strong ly contrasting features of the s,cen,e bpfo-e me bc^au to impress themselves upon my contclon'tnosg, I found myself experiencing 9r.TH!ttiir.K "j tlio same sensation of double j JN i- -.nulity, which years befpre hadfo'lowed tit ■ > V'.-otid use of ether. A sat that tjmp j.t afjpssvi ;.>\ 10, me that I was living two lives at oucc, wiv>o_distinct places, with two separate sot* o{inci4en'a Roing on, so now did I scorn to be divided between, irreconci lable trains of thoucht; the gorgeous house, its elaborate furnishing, the little glimpses of yesterday'a-life as seen in the open piano with ;its sheet of music held in place by a lady's daiuty fan, occupying my attention fully as roucb. aa the aspect of the throng of incongruous and impatient people, huddled aboutme. . ; ■

Perhaps one reason of this lay in the |ex traordinary fplendour of the room I was in; jJie glow of satin, glitter of bronze and glim mer meeting the eye at every turn. But lam rather inclined to think that it was mainly due to thef,g;.coandeoquence of a certain picture that confronted we from the oppo site yaJJ. A syeet picture—,sweet enough and poetic enough. ,to haye be.en by Uib most; We.ii-ljstie of .^rtMts ; simple, too —the vj4o!i at a .Iyow&goWw-taJr^%B

cyid coquette, dressed in the continue of the First Empire, stauding in a woodpath looking bick over her shoulder as at some one following—yet with such a dush of something not altogether saintlike ill the corners of her meek eyea and baby-like lips, that it immvsscd me with the individuality of life. Had it not been for the open dress with it* waiat almo.-t beneath the armpits, the hair cut short on the forehead and the pcrfcctii'iiof thoneck and shoulders, I should have taken it for a literjl portrait of one of the Indies of the house. As it was, I could not rid myself of the idea jthat one, if not both of Mr. Leavenworth's niece", looked down upon me from the eyes of this entran cing blonde, with tho beckoning glance ami forbidding hand, So vividly did this fancy impress me, that I half shuddered as I looked, wondering if this sweet creature itii) not know what had occurred in ihis house since the hnppy yesterday, that she should stand there Ninili g ho invitingly,— sudd-illy I became aware fiat I had been wntuhiiig the little crowd of men about me, with as complete an ii'tention as if there were nothing else in tho room but them selves. That the face of the coroner, sternly intelligent and attentive, was as distinc ly imprinted upon my mind ns that of this lovely picture, or the clearer cut and mure noble fcatuies of tho sculp'ured Psyche, shining in mellow boailty from tho crimson hung window at his right. Yes, oven that tho various countcnunces. of the jnrymen clustered before me, commonplace and in significant as most of them were, the trembling forms of tho excited servants crowded into a far corner, and the still inoro disagreeable aspoctof the pale-faced seedy reporter, seated at a small table and writing with a glioul-liko avidity that made my ftVph creep, were each and nil as fixed an element in the remarkblo scene before me us the splendour of tlvi surroundings which made their presenco such a nightmare of discord and unreality. I liavo »pokou of the coroner. As fortune would have it, he was no stranger to me. I had not only seen him before, but had had frequent conversations wi'h him, in fact knew him, His name was Hammond, and tie was uuiversally regarded as a man of mote tlmn ordimvy acutones<, fully capablu of conducting an important examination with tho necessary skill and address. In. terested as I was, or rather wai likely to bo in this particular inquiry, I could not but congratulate myself upon our good'fortunc in having so intelligent a coroner.

As for his jurymen, tln-y were, as I have intimated, very murh like all other bodies of a similar character. Picked up at random from tho streets, but from such ttrscts us the Fifth and Sixth avenuos, they presented much tho same appearauoe of average intelligence and refinement as might hi seen in the chance occupants of one of our city stages rolling down Broad*ay. with its quota of business men. Indeed, I marked but ono amongst them all wh» seemed to take any interest in the inquiry, as an inquiry ; nil the rest appearing to be actuated in the fulfilment ot their duty, by the commoner instincts of pity and indignation. Dr Maynard, the well-known surgeon of Thirty-sixth Street, \va* tho lirst witness called. His testimony wa« mainly con cerning the nature of the wound found in the murdered man's head. As somo of tlm tacts presented hy him are likely to prove of imponanco to us m our narrative, I will proceed to give a synopsis of what ho said.

Prefacing his remarks with some account of himself, and the manner in which he had b?cn summoned to the house by one of the servants, ho went, on to state that upon his arrival, ho found the deceased lying on a bed in the sccend-story front room, with the blood clotted about a pistol wonnd in the back of the head ; having evidently been carried there from the adjoining apartment some hours after death. It was the only wound discovered on the body, and having probed it, ho had found aod extracted the bullet which he now handed to the jury. It was lying in the brain, having cnt-red at the baso ot the skull, passing obliquely upward, and at once stutck the medulla ohlongata, causing instant death. Tho fnc' of the ball having entered the brain in this pecu liar manner, ho uVmcd worthy of noto, since it would produce not only instanta neous death but an utterly motionless one. Further, from the position of the bullet h»le and the direction taken by the bullet, it was manifestly impossible that tho shot could have been fired by the man himself, even if the condition of the hair about the wound did not completely de monstrate the fact that the shot was fired from a point some three or four feet distant. Still further, considering the angle at which the bullet had entered the skull, it was evident that the decea»ed must not on'y have been seated at the time, a fret about wh'ch the c could be no dispute, but he must also have been engaged in somo occu pation which drew his head forward. For, in order that a ball should enter the head of a man sitting at the angle seen here of 45°, it would b< necessary not only for the pistol to be held very low down, but in a peculiar pn.«iion; while if the h"ad had been bent forward as in the act of writing, a man holding a pistol Daturally with the elbow bent, might very easily firo a ball into the bain at the a'tgle observed.

Upon being ques'ion>d in regard to tho bodily health of Mr Leavenworth, he re plied tbat the deceased appeared to bare been ia gnod condition at the time of his do 1 th, but that not being his attend mt physician, he could pot speak conclusively upon the subject without further examina tion ; and to tho remark of a juryman, observed, that he had not seen pistol or weapon lying upon the floor, or indeed anywhere else in either of the above-men tioned rooms.

I might as well add here what he afterwards stated, that from the position of the table, the chair and the door be hind it, t-e murderer, in order to satisfy; all the conditions imposed by the situation, must have stood upon or just withjn the threshold of the pas'ivfje way leading into the room beyond. Also, that t^e ball was sm-ill and from a rifled bar. el, and thus espe cially liable to deflections while passing through bones and integuments. It seemed to him endent that the victim had made no effort to raise or turn his head when advun ced upon by bisdestrover; the tiarful con elusion being, that the footstep was an accus tom d one, and the presence of it* possessor in the room eith' r known or expected. The physician's testimony being ended, !he coroner picked up the bullet wnich had boon laid on thetaMa before him, and for a moment rolled h contemplatively between his fingers, then drawing a pencil from his pocket, hastily scrawled a line or two on a piecs of paper and calling an officer to his side, delivered some command in .1 low tone. The officer taking up the slip looked at it for an instant knowingly, then catching up his hat left the room. Another moment, and the front door clnsed on him, and a wild halloo from tho crowd of urchins without told of his appearance in the street. Sitting where I did, I had a full view from the window of the corner, Looking out, I saw the officer stop there, hail a cab, hastily enter it and disappear in the direction of Broad way.

111. FACTS AND DEDUCTIONS,

Confualon now hath rnado his master-piece; Most sacrllogiouß murder bach broke cue

Tbo Loid's an'.int-d temple and stolen tln-nce Tho life of thelbullding.-MACBETH. TURNING! my attention back into the room where I was, I found the coroner consulting a memorandum, through a very impressive pair of gold eyeglasses; •' j[s thp butler here ?" he asked. Immediately therp was a. stir among the group of servants in the corner, and an in telligent looking though somewhat pompous irishman stepped jut from their midst and confronted the jury. "Ah," thought I to mj self as my g'ance encountered bis precise whiskers, steady eye, and respect fully attentive though by no means humble expression, '• heTe is a model servant who is likely to prove a model witness." And I was not mistaken, 1 homas, the butler, was in all iespects one in a thousand-and he knew it;

The coroner, upon whom as upon all otheisin the room-he seemed to have made llie like favourable impression, proceeded without hesitation to interrogate him. "Your name, I am told, is Thomas Dougherty?' "Yea, sir."

'.'Well, Thomas, how long have you been employed ju your present situation !" '

" It must be a matter of two years now, sir." " You arc the person who first discovered I the body of Mr Leavenworth ?"

" Yes, sir; I and Mr Harwell."

" And who is Mr Harwell ?" "Mr Harwell is Mr Leaveuworth's pri vate secretary, sir; the one who did his writing."

" Very good. Now at what time of the day or night was it you made' this dis covery ?"

"Ie was early, sir; early this morning, about eight." " And where?"

"In the library, sir, oil" Mr Leaven worth's bedroom. \Ve had forced our way lv, feeling anxious about his not coming to broikfast,"

" You forced your way in ; tho door then was locked ?"

' Yes, sir."

"On the inside? "

"That I cannot tell; there was no key in the door."

" Where was Mr Lcuvcnworlh lying when you first found him ? "

" lie was not lying, sir. He was seated at the large table in tho centre of the room, his back to the bedroom door ; leaning for ward, his head on his hands."

" How was ho dressed ?"

" In lii-t dinner suit, si', just aa he came from the table last night." " Where there any evidences in the room that a struggle had taken place ?" "No, sir." " Any pistol on the floor or table ?" "No, sir."

"Any reason to suppose that robbery had been attempted?"

" No, sir, Mr Leavenworth's watch and purse were both in his pockets." Ueing asked to mention who were in the house at the time of tho discovery, ho re plied, " Tho young ladies, Miss Mivry Leavenworth and Miss Eleauore, Mr Har well, Kate the cook, Molly the up-stairs girl, aud myself." "Tho usual niombors of the household?" "Yea, sir." " Now toll me whoso duty it is to closo up thehouse at nights." "Mine, sir."

" Did you secure it as usual, last night ?" " I did, sir."

"Who unfastened it this morning ? " " I, sir."

" How did you find it ?" " Jii9t as I loft it."

"What, not a window open nor a door unlocked ?"

'■ No, sir."

By this time you could havo hoard a pin drop Tho certainty that the murderer, Whoever ha was, had not left tho houso, at least till after it was opened in tho morning seemed to weigh upon all minds. Fo>o warned as I had been of the fact, I could no*, but feel a certain degree of emotion at having it thus brought before me; a-ul moving bo as to bring the butler's face within viow.sea'ched it for some secret token that lie had spoken thus emphatically in order to cover up his own dereliction of duty, But it>as unmoved iv its candour, and sustained the concentrated gaze of all in the room like a rock.

Be;ng now asked when he had last seen Mr Leavenwoi th.alive, he replied, "At dinner last night."

'* He was, however, seen later by some of you ?'

'• Y'os, sir ; Mr Harwell says ho saw him as late as half-past ten in the evening." "What room do you occupy in thi« house ?"

" A little one on tho basement floor."

"And where do other members of th* household sleep ?" " Mostly on the third floor, sir, tho ladion in the large back rooms, and Mr Harwell in tho little one in front. Tho girls sleep above."

" There was then no one on tho same floor with Mr Lcavcnworth ?"

"No, sir."

•' At what hour did you go to bed ?" "Well, I »hould say about cloven." " Did you hear any noise m tho house either before or after that time, that you re member t"

" No, aii."

"So that tho discovery you made this morning was a surprise to you ?" " Yes, sir. 11

Requested now to give a more detailed account of that discovery, he went on to say that it was not until Mr Lcavenwortli failed to come to his breakfast nt the call of the bell, that nny suspicion aroso in the houso that all was not righ'. Even then they waited sometime betore doing any thing, but as minute after minute went by and he did not come. Miss Elcanoro grow very anxious, and linal'y left the room say ing she would go iec what was the matter, but soon returned looking very much frightened, saying she had knocked at her uncle's door, and had oren called to him, but could got no answer. At which he and Mr Harwell had gone up and together tried both doors, and finding them locked, burst open that of the library, when they saw Mr Lcivonworth, as ho had already said,sitting at the tahlc, dead."

" And the ladies ?"

" 0, they followed us up and came into tbe room and Miss Eleanore fainted away." ' And tho other one, Miss Mary, I be lieve they call her?'1 " I don't remembor anything; about her, I was so busy fetching water for Miss Eloanore, I didn't notice."

"Well, how long was it boforo Mr Leavenworth was carried into tho next room ?"

" Almost immediate, as soon as Miss Eleanore recovered.and that was as soon aa ever the water touched her lips." "Who proposed that the body shoald be oarried from the spot ? " " She, sir. As soon as over she stood up ghe went over to it and looked'at it and shuddered, and then calling Mr Harwell and me, bade us carry him in and lay him on the bed and go for tho doctor, which wo did."

" Wait a moment 5 did she go with you when you went into the other room 1" "No, sir." "What did she do?" "She staved by the library table." "What doing!" " I couldn't see : her back was to me." " How long did sbc stay there ?" " She was gone when we came back," " Gone from tho table ?" ''Gone from the room."

" Humph ! « hen dd you see her again ?" "In a minute. She came in at tlie library door as we went out " " Anything in her band ?" " Not as I see."

"Did you miss anything from the table?" " I never thought to look,sir. Tbe table was nothing to me. I w>is only thinking of going for the doctor, though 1 knew it was of no use."

" Whom did you leave in the room when you went out ? " The cnok, sir, and Molly, sir, and Miss Eleanore."

"Not Miss Mary?" "No, sir." " Very well. Have the jury any ques tions' to put to this man!"

A movement at once took place in that profound body.

" I Avould like to ask a few," exclaimed a weazened faced excitable little man whom I had before noticed shifting in his>seat in a restless manner strongly suggestive of an intense but hitherto repressed desire to interrupt the proceedings.

"Very well, tir ? " returned Thomas. But tfio juryman stqnping to, draw a deep breath, a large and decidedly pqmpous nun who had sat at hia right hand, seized the opportunity to inqu;re in a round listpn-to me sort of voice.

" Y-ou say yqu have been in the family two ye.-j.rs. Was it what you. migljt call a unitpi family?'1

"United?"

" Affectionntcjou know-on good terms with < ach other." And the juryman lif ed the very long and heavy watch chain that hung across his vest, as if that as well as himself had a right to a suitable and well considered reply.

The butler, impressed perhaps by his manner, glanced uneasily around, "Yes, sir, as far as I know." ■

"The young ladies were attached to their uncle t"

" 0 ye 3, sir." " And to each other ?"

" Well, yes, I suppose so; it's not for me to say." ! l

" Yon snpposo so. Have you any reason to think otherwise,", And he doubled tbe

wa'ch chain about his fingers as if he would double its attention an well ashisown

Thomas hesitated a moment. But just as his interlocutor was about to repeat his question, he drew himself up into a rather stiff and|formal attitude. "Well, sir, no."

The juryman for all his self-assertion «oomed to respect the reticence of a servant who declined to give his opinion in regard to such a matter, anddrawing complacently back, signified with a wave of his hand that he had no more to say. Immediately tho excited little man, before mentioned, slipped forward to the edge »f his chair and asked this time without hesi tatirm, "At what time did you unfasten the houne this morning?"

"About six, sir."

" Now, could any one leave the honso after that time without your knowledge ?" Thomas glanced a trifle uneasily at his fellow-servants, but answered up promptly and as if without reserve,

" I don't thiuk it would be possible for anybody to leave this house after six in the morning without either myself or the cook's knowing of it. Folks don't jump from second story windows in broad daylight, and as to leaving by the doors, the front door closes with such a slam all the house can hear it from top to bottom, and as for the back door, uo one that goes out of tlmt can got clear of the yard without "going by the kitchen window, and no one can go by that kitchen window without the cook's a seeing of them, that I can just swear to," And he cast ah ilf quizzing, half malicious look at the round rcd-faccd individual in ques'lon, strongly suggestive of late and uu fo-gotten bickerings over^the kitchen cofi'eo urn and enstor.

This reply, which was ot n nature calcu lated to deepen the forebodings which had already settled upon the minds of those present, produced a visible effect. The house found locked, and no one seen to leave it! Evidontlv, then, we had not far to look for the assassin.

Shifting on his chair with increase) fervour, if I may so speak, the juryman glanced sharply around. But perceiving tho renewed interest on the faces about him, declined to weaken the effect of th« last admi-Bion b> any further questions. Settling, thetefo'O, comfortably oaok, he lojt the iiold opon for any other juror who might choose to press the-inquiry. But no one seeming to be roady to do this, Thomas iii bis turn evinced impatience, and at last looking respectfully around inquired, " Would any other gentleman like toa»k me anything ?' No one replying, he threw a hurried glanco of relief towards the servants at his side, then while each ono marvelled at the sudden change that had tnken place in bis c luntcnancco, withdrew with an eager alacrity and evident satis faction for which I could not at the moment account

Uut the next witness proving to be none other than my acquaintance of the morning, Mr Harwell, I soon forgot both Thomas and ■he doubts his last movement had awak ened in the interest which the examination of so important a person as the socretnry and right-hand man of Mr Leavonworth wa» likely to create. Advancing with the calm and determined air of one who realised that lifennd death itself might hang upon the words ho would oe called upon to utter, Mr Haiwell took his stand before the jury with a degree of dignity that was not only highly propos s Bsing in itself, but to me who hud been over and above pleased with him in our first interview, admirable and surprising. Lacking, as I havo snid, any distinc tive quality of face or form, agreeable or otherwiso—being what you might call in appearance a negative sort of person, his fiale regnlar features, dark well smoothed mir and simple whiskers, all belonging to a recognised type and very commonplace— theie was still visible, on this occasion at least, ft certain self-possession in his car riage, which went far towards making up for tho want of impr ssiveneas in his coun tenance and expression. Not that even this was in any way remarkable. Indcrd there was nothing rcmarkablo about tho man, any more than thnre is about a thousand others you meet every day on Broadway, unless you except the look of concentration and solemnity which pervaded liin whole person; a solemnity which at this time would not have been noticeable, perhaps*) if it had not appeared to bo the habitual ex pression of one who in his short life had seen more of sorrow than joy, lets of plea sure than care and anxiety.

The coroner, to whom his appearance one way or the othor stcmoii to bo a matter of no moment, addressed him immediately and without reserve.

" Your name ?"

" JamesTrueman Harwell.'

" Your business I"

" I havo occupied the position of private secretary and amanuensis to Mr Leaven worth for the past eight months." " You ore the person who last Haw Mr Leavenworth alive, are ynu not ?" Tho young man raised his head with a haughty gesture that well nigh transfigured it.

" Certainly not; as lam not tho man who killed him."

This answer, which seemed to introduce something akin to levity or badinage into an examination tho seriousuess of which we were all beginning to realise, produced an immediate revulsion of feeling toward tho man who in face of iacta, revealed and to be revealed, could to lightly make uso of it. A hum of disapproval swept through the room, and in that one remark, 'James Har well lost all that ho had previously won by the self-possession of his bear ing and the unflinching regard of his eye. He seemed himself to realise this for lie lifted his head still higher, though his gen eral aspect remained unchanged. "I mean," tho cqroner exclaimed, evidently nettled that the young man had been able to draw »uch a conclusion from his word", "that you were the last one to sec him previous to his assassination by some unknown individual 1"

flic secretary folded his aims, whether to hide a aortain tremble that had soized him or by that simple action to gain time for a moment's further thought, I could not then determine. " Sir," he replied at length, '• I cannot answer yeß or no to that question. In all probability I was the last to see him, but in a house as largo as this I cannot be suro of even so simplo a fact as that." Then observing the unsatisfied look on the faces around, added slowly, "It is my business to see him late." ~-;

" Your business, oh, as his secretary, I suppose ?" He gravely nodded.

"Mr Harwell," the coroner went on, " the office of priva'e secretary in this country is not a common one. Will you explain to us what your duties were in that capacity; in short, what use Mr Leavon worth had forsuca an assistant and how he employed you?"

'• Certainly. Mr Leavenworth was, as you perhaps know, a man of great wealth. Connected with various societies, clubs, institutions, etc , besides being known far and near as a giving inan,he was accustomed every ■ day of his life to receive numerous letters, begging and otherwise, which it was my bus;ness to open and answer ; his pri vate correspondence always bearing a mark upon it which distinguished it from 'he rest. But this was not all I was expected to do. Having in his early life been engage i in the tea trade, he had made more than qne voyage to China, and was consequently much interested in tho question of inter national communication between that country and our own. Thinking that in hV Various visits there he had learned much wlvch if known to, the American people, would conduce to our better understanding of the nation, its peculiarities and tho best manner of dealing with it, ho has been 'or some time writing a book on the J»ub jtict, which same it has been my business for the last e;ght msnths to assist him i n Ereparing, by writing at his dictation, three ours out of the twenty-four, the last hour being commonly taken from the even; ntr, say from half-past nine to half-past ten"; Mr Leavenworth b ing a very methodical man and accustomed to regulate his own life and that of those about him, with almost mathematical precision." " You say that you were accustomed to write at his dictation on evenioga? Did you do this as usual last evening !" "I did, sir." ' : ■■ ' " What can you tell ns ot his manner and appearance at the time. Were they in any way unusual?" " ':■• ••'•

A frown crossed the secretary's brow. "As he probably had no premonition of his doom, bow should there have been any change in his manner ?"

This giving the coroner an opportunity to revenge himself for his discomfiture of a moment before, ho said somewhat severely. "It is thebußinessofa witness to answer questions, not to put them." The secretary Hushed and the account stood even.

11 Very well then, sir; if Mr Leavenworth felt any forebodings of his end, he did not ■reveal them to me. On the contrary, he seemed to be more absorbed in bis work than usual. One of thri laat words he said to me was, "In a month wo will have thi book in the pre<s, eh, Trueman ?" I io menber this particularly, as he was filling his wineglass at the time. He nlwayH drank one class of wine before retiring, it heing my duty to bring the decanter of sh-rry fr.im the closet, tho last thing before leaving him. I was standing with my hand on the knob of tho hall door, but advanced ns ho said this and replied, ' I hope so in d-od. Mr Lcavcnwonh.' ' Then join me in drinking a glass of sherry,1 he cried, motioning mo to procure another glass from the closet, ■ I did so, and lie poured mo out the wine with his own hand. I am not especially fond of sherry, but the occasion was a pleasant one and I drained my eta. I remember being slightly ashamed of doing so, for Mr Leavenworth sot his down half full. It was half full when we found him this morning." Do wlut he would, and being a reserved man, he appeared anxioua to control his emotion.tho horror of his first shock seemed to o crwh' lm him hero. Pulling his hand kerchief from his pocket he wiped his forehead. •'Gentlemen, that is the last action of Mr Loavenworth I ever saw. As ho set the glass down on the table. I said good-night to him and left the room." The coroner, with a characteristic'imper viousneas to all expressions of emotion leaned back and surveyed the young man with a scrutinizing glance. " And where did you go then ?" ho asked.

"To my own room." " Did you meet anybody on the way ?" "No, sir." " Hear unusual?"

anything or see anything

The secretary's voice fell a trifle, " No, sir "

"Mr Harwell, think again. Arc you ready to swear that you neither met any body heard anybody, or saw anything which lingers yet in your momory as unuaual ?" His face grew quite distressed. Twice he opened his lips to speak and as often closed them without doing so. At last with an eilort he replied,' "1 saw one thii.g, a little thing, too slight to mention, but it was unusual, and 1 could not help thinking of it when you spoke." J "What was it?' " Only a door half open." " Whoso door ?'? "Miss Eleanorc Leavenworth's." His voice was almost a whisper now. " Where were you when you observed this fact." " I cannot say exactly. Probably at my own door, as I did not stop on the way. If this frulilful occurrence had not taken place I should never have thought of it again." ' When you went into your room did you close your door ? " ''I did, sir." " How soon did you retire?" "Immediately." " Did you hear nothing before you fell asleep?" Again that indefinable hesitation. " JJarely nothing." " Not a footstep in the hall ?" " I might have heard a footstep." "Did you?" " I cannot swear I did." " Do you think you did ?" " Ye», I think I did, To toll tho whole, 1 remember hearing, just as J was falling in'o a doze, a rustle and a footstep in the hall, but it mmie no impression upon me and I dropped asleep." "Well?*' " Sometime Inter I woke, woke suddenly as if snino'hing had startled mo, but what, a noise or move, I cannot say. I remember rising tip in my hod and looking around, bnt hearing nothing further, soon yielded to the drowsiness which possessed mo and fell into a deep sleep. I did not wake again till morning." Here requested to relate how and when he became acquainted with the fact of the murder, he substantiated, in ailpaiticulars, tho account of tho matter already given by the butler ; which subject bcin« exhausted, tho coroner went on toa<k if he had noted tho condition of the library table after the body had been removed. " Somewhat, yes, sir." 11 What was on it ?" "The usual properties, sir, books, paper,, a pen with the ink dried on it, besides tho decanter and the wineglass from which he drank the night before. " Nothing more ?" " I remember nothing more." " In regard to that decanter and glass," broke in the juryman of tho watch and chain, "did you not say tho latter was found in the same condition in which it was at the time you left Mr Lcavcnworth sitting in hia library ?" " Yes, sir, very much," "Yet ho was in tho habit of drinking a full glass?" " Ye.», sir."

" An interruption must then have ensued very close on your departure Mr Bar well." A cold bluish pallor suddenly broke rut upon the young man's face. He started and for a moment looked as if struok by somo horrible thought. "That docs not follow, sir," he articulated with somo difficulty. "Mr Lcavcnworth might"—but suddenly stop ped as if too much distressed to proceed. " Go on, Mr Harwell, lot us hear what you have to say."

"There is nothing," he returned faintly, as if battling with some strong emotion.

As bo had not heenansworing a quostinn, only volunteering aa explanation, the coroner let it pass, but I saw more than one pair of eyes roll suspiciously from side to side as if many there felt tliey had at last found some sort of a clue in this nan's emotion. The coroner, ignoring in his easy way both the emotion and the universal excitement it had produced, now proceeded to ask, —"Do you know whether the key to The library was in its place or not when you left the room last night ?"

" No, sir; I did not notice."

" The presumption is, it was ?"

"1 suppose so." "At all events the door was locked in the morning and the key gone ? "

"Yes, sir

"Then whoever committed this murder locked the door on passing out and took away the key ? "

"It would seem so."

The coroner turning, faced the jury with an earnest look, "uentlemtn,'1 said he, "there seems to be a mystery in : regard to this key which must be looked into?'

Immediately a universal murmur swept through the room, testifying .to the acquiescence of all present. The lit1 le juryman rising hastily proposed that an instant search should be made for it, bus the coroner, turning upon him with what I should denominate as a quelling look, decided that.tbo inquest should proceed in the usual manner, till the verbal testimony was all in.

" Then ajlqw in,c to ask a question,' said the irrepressible. "Mr Harwell, we are told 'that upon breaking in of the library door this morning, Mr Lpavcnworth's two nieces followed you into the room.' 1 , •'• One of thorn, sir, Miss Elcanore." " Is Miss Elcanore the one who is said to be Mr Lcaycuworth's tole heiress ?" the coroner here interposed. " No, sir, that is Miss Mary," " That blic gave orders," pursued the juryman," for tbe removal of the body iuto the further room?"

" Yes, fir."

" And that you obeyed her by helping to carry it in ?" "Yes, sir."

'•Now in thus passing through the rooms did you observe anything to lead you to form a suspicion of tbe murderer ? " .

Tbe secretary shook bishfad. "I have no suspicion," he said emphatically. - Somehow I did ' not believe him. Whether it was the tone of his voice, the clutch of his hand on the sleeve—and the

hnnd would often reveal more than the countenance- I felt that this man was not to be relied upon in making this assertion. " I would like to ask Mr Harwell a ques tion," said a juryman who had not yet suoken. "We have had a detailed account of what looks like the discovery of a mur dered man. Now murder is never committed without some motive. Does tin secretary know whether Mr Leavenwortli bad any secret enemy V " I do not "

"Everyone in the house seemed to be on good terms with him ?"

"Yes, sir,", with a little quiver of di3 ent in the assertion however.

" Not a shadow lay between him and any other member of his Household, so Lvuh you know ?"

" I am not ready to say that," he returned quite distressed. "A shadow is a .very slight thing. Thee might have bern n shadow—"

"Between him and whom" A long hesitation. "One of his neices, sir," . ,(..r.f.,j

"Which one?"

Again; that defiant lift of the head "Misa Elcanpre." , ; r

" How long has this shadow been obser vable?"

"I cannot say." „'. ~, .... ,". "You do not -know the cause?' 'I do not.", '~',,'

" Nor the extent of .the feeling." "No, sir." 'nil ']■[ " You open Mr Leavenworth's letters ?" "I do." ,„).,<

" Has there been any thing in those lately received by him that, recurring to your memory now, might seem to throw any light upon this deed ?" It actually seemed as if he never would answei. Was he simply pondering over his reply or was the man turned to stone ? "Mr Harwell, did you hear the jury man ?" inquired the coroner, " Yes, sir 5 I was thinking." " Very well, now answer." '•t-ir," he replied, turning and looking the juryman full in the face and in that way reveaUng..his^unguarded left hand to my gaze,"'1! have opened Mr Leaven worth'slcttersfor the last two .weeks,'and 1 can think of nothing in them bearing in the least upon this t-agedy." . The man lied; 1 knew it instantly, The clenched hand pausing irresolute, then making up its mind to go through with the he firmly,was enough for mo. "Mr Harwell,this is undoubtedly true according to your own judgment/ said the coroner ; " but Mr L aveuworth's .cor respondence wrl have to be searched for all that."

'' Of course," he replied carelessly, " that is only right." This remark ended Mr Harwell's exami nation for the time. As he sat down I made note of four things. That M r Harwell himself, for some reason not given, was conscious of a suspicion which he was anxious to suppress even from his own mind.

That a woman was in some way connected with it, a rustle as well as a footstep having been heard by him on the stairs. That a letter had arrived at that house and not long since, which if found would he likely to throw some light upon this sub ject

That Eleanore Leavenworth's name came with difficulty from his lips ; this evidently unimpressible manj manifesting more or less emotion whenever he was called upon to utter it.

(To be continued.)

ARTEMUS WARD IN ENG LAND.

A DYINd HUMOIIIST'S LAST ADDEKSSE3 TO

BBITIBH AUDIKNOtS.

When Artemus arrived here Id 18GG he was a dying man. I can see him now as he came on the narrow platform in iront of his inferior panorama. Hia tall, gaunt, though slendr figure; his curly light hair and largo aquiline nose, which always reminded me of a macaw; his thin face flashed with con gumption ; his little oongh, which seemed to shake him to pieces, and which ho said was ".wearing him out," at which -we all laughed irresistibly, and then felt ashamed of our selves, as well we might; but he himself seemed to enjoy, his cough, it was all part of that old topsy-turvy mind in which every thing appeared most natural upside down. On first entering he would seem profoundly unconscious that anything was expected of him, but after looking at tbe audience, then at his own clothes, and tlien apologetically at his panorama, he began to explain its merits, The fact was that Artomus intended having the finest scenes that conld be pointed, hut he gave that up on account of the expense, and then determined to get the worst, as the next best thing for his purpo-c. When anythtng very lad came up ho would pause Mid ,goze admiringly at. the canvas, and then look round a little reproachfully at the company, •• This pic ture," he would say, "is.a great work of «rt; it is an oil-painting done in petroleum. It, is by the old matters. It was the lest thing they did before dying. They did this, and then they expired. I wish you were nearer to it so you could see it better. I wish I could tske it to your residences and let you see it by daylight. Some ol tbe greatest artists in London come here every morning before daylight with lanterns to look at it. They say they never ssw auytbing like it before, and they hope they never shall again." Nothing could be more impromptu, and there riveting, than bis manner throughout from the moment he entered; he seemed to be doing everything for the first time and without the least preparation, and indeed he was most unlike such mechanical aitists as Albert Smith, who used to say he could go through his "Mont Blanc" half asleep Artem.ua was always in reality ai high pressure. He was never twice the same'; he poured out now jokes with prodigal invention, and every gesture: was original, and arose out of the immediate occa sion. | His finger was over on the pulse of the people; they were always absolutely in his power, whilst .he flattered them by appearing to be oulirely in theirs. He would conciliate them, inspire pity, claim indulgence, throw himself upon their generosity, pretend to exeit himself, to labour under a depressing sense of failure, even make capital out of his poor cough ; and then he was so deeply wounded if some very mild joke failed to elicit applause that he would stop and look reproachfully at the people until they shook with a now seme of the absurd situation. At other times, when interrupted by laughter, he would look around wiih sur prise and say, "I did not expect you to laugh at that. I can throw off numbers of those little things, bat I assure you 1 can better than that." '

The Channel tunnel

Dk. Siemens has by request presented to the military committee on the subject of the Channel Tunnel a novel and ingenious plan for defending the tunnel,if constructed, fiom hostile invasion. .He proposes that, immediately above tho lateral drainage tun nel, there should be a drift way-or tube terminating on the tunnel sidein a; doulle a,rch,;,with numerous perforations, .end in the land side several chambers of wrought iron sunk into tho ground.. Them chambers would be filled.. with' comtnou chalk, and connected with a large cistern filled with diluted muriatic acid, and, on.opening the communicatan, the acid wouid flow into the upp r portion of one of the chambers, from whence it would be distributed by tho perforated pipes over the entire area, 'J he result woiild.be a poWorful chemical reaction, giyiiig rise to a generation of carbonic acid, Svhich would for half a mile or m'Qr'e form an impassab'e barrier to the' passage jof human beings through the' tunnel.' Dr Siemens reconi mends this plan as being cheap aud easy of adoption, whilst'leayjng the tunnel intact. \

/fc man getß angry-.on being tolcl that be has a cheek of bra's j but 'a wton an smiles sweetly whenever informed that she has a, brow of- marble,'a'neck of alabaster, and I ps of coral. ' The difference in/tb'e disposi tion the sexes', js', no doubt, owing tor thi

POETRY.

AN UXPUBLI3HKI) POEM BY LONG FELLOW. [Since Mr Longfellow's death nothing hns been published relating to him of bo much In terest as a poem bearing the title of "Via Solitaria," wh eh wns written bt him not forthu public eye, but simply to give uttoranco to his sorrow after the denth of his wife in 1801. Tho poem has just been published.] Alone I walk the peopled city, ; ■ Where each seems nappy with his own; Oh! friends, I ask not for your pity— '; 1 walk alone. No more for mo yon laUo rejoices. Though nioveil by loving airs of Juno; Oh! birds, your sweet and piping voices Are out of tune. In vain for mo tho elm-tree arches Its plumes in jna> y a feathered spray; In vain theleven ing's starry marches And sunlit day. In vain your beauty, summer flowers: ' Yiscannot greet these cordial eyes;■ ' They gazo nn other fields.than ours— On other skies. The gold, is rifl.d from the coffer. Tho blade is stolen from the Bheath; Life has but one more bo >n to ifl'er. And that is-Death. Yet well I know thn voico of Duty, :. And. therefore, life and health must crave, Though she who gave ihe wo, Id its beauty Is in her grave. I live, O lost one 1 for the living, Who drew their earliest life from Ihoo, And wait, until with glad thanksgiving I shall be free; For life to mo is as a Btation, ■ Wherein apart a traveller stands— One absent long from homo and nation, In other lands. '■■ ■ ' And I, as ho who stands and listens, Amid the twilight's chill and gloom, To hear, approaching in the distance, The train for home.- For death shall bring another mating,' Boyond tho shadows of the tomb, " "*' On yonder shore a bride is waiting r,'<U Until I come. . . , : ; < In yonder field are children playing/ '','."l ' And there—oh! vision of delight; !i-<- -» I see tha child and mother straying >i!ifi > i. -: In robes of whita, , ;, j Thou, then, the longing heart that breakoßt, Stealing the trea' ures one by one, • I'll call Thee blessed when Thou makest Tho parted—one. ■ ' ,", . September 18th, 1883. A SAILOR'S YARN. [From the Detroit l<rce Press.] This is the tale that was told to me. By a battered and shattered son of the sea— To v.cand my messmate, Silas Green, When Iwas a guileless young marine. Twos the good ship Gyascutus, All in the China seas, With the wind a-lce and tho capstan free To catch the summer breeze. 'Twas Captain Porgie on tho deck, To his mate in the mizzen hatch, , -1 While the boatswain bold, in the forward hold Wa9 winding his larboard watch. " Oh, how does our good ship head to-night 1 How heads our gallant oraft J" " Oh. she heads to the B. S. W. by N., '". ' And the binnacle lies abaft 1" " Oh, what does the quadrant indicate. And how does the sextant stand ?" " Oh, tho scxtant's'down to the freezing point, And tho quadrant's lost a hand!" " Oh, and if. tho quadrant has lost a hand; And the sextant falls so low. It's our bodies and boneß to Davy Jones This night aro bound to go I ■ 11 Oh, fly aloft to the garboard strake 1 , , And reef the spanker boom ; Bend a studding sail on the martingalo •' : ■ To give her weather room. " O boatswain, down in tho for'ord hold. What water do you find V " Four font and a half by tho royal gaff And rather more behind!" " 0 sailors, collar your marline spikes And rach belaying pin ; :-'■ f. Come stir your stumps and spike the pumps, Or more will be coming in 1 " They stirred their stumps, they spiked tho pumps, They spliced tho mizzen brace; Aloft and alow they worked, but oh! The water gained apace, They bored a hole abovo the keel To let tho water out; But, straDgc to say, to their dismay,' Tho water in did spout. Then up spoko the cook o£ our gallant ship, | And lie was a lubber bravo: '■ I have several wives in various ports, And my life I'd ortcr save." Then up spoko tho Captain of Marines, Who dearly loved his prog: "It's awful to die, and its worse to \>B dry And I move we pipes to grog." ' Oh, then 'twas tho noble second mate What filled them all with awe; The second mate, as bad men hate, And cruel skippers jaw. He took tho anchor on his back And leaped into the main ; Through foam and spray he clove his way And sunk and rose again. Through foam and spray a leaguo away The anchor stout ho boro; Till, safe at last, ho made it fast ; < And warped the ship ashore! Taint much of aiob to talk about. But a ticklish thing to see. And suth'in' to do, it I say it, too. , ■■ < For that second mate was mo I Such was the tale that was told to vie By that modest and truthful son of the sea. And I envy the life of a second mate Though cajHains curse him and sailors hate ; For he ain't like some of the swabs Pve seen As xoould goand lie to a poor marine.

HIS LOVE AND MINE,

[Prom the Clivpci'.l Ha gives his lady rubies, ; , ■ ■ I give my girl a kiss-~. The one may bo bcmijht tor money. But no money oauld purohasa this. Ho crowns t,^o hwid of his lady ■ ■•;,■■ With a, phaplet of gold and pearls. . .. • WWl<? my darling lias only the sunlight To crown her bronze-brown curls. ■ His lady lives in a palace. My girl in a oottuge dwells, And eaoh has her chosen companions. To whom all secrets she tolls. Pride and Name and Riches— < . i» ! i £ these his lady can boast, While Innoc nee, Truth, and Dutr Are the guests my girl loves most. His lady is robed in satin, In silka and Honiton laoo; My girl, in tho cheapest of muslin. Outshines her in beauty and grace. ; ; By.the virtue of art, his lady I The figure of Hobo may ape; But what art would attempt-to romodol " My girl's unapproachable shape? Are tho cheeks of his lady like roses? ;. Is her brow, th» n, lily whito I So, too, are my girl's cheeks roay. And her brow as dazzling, quito. But wore you to ask his lady To batho her face. 1 fear Tho rose, as well as the lilioa. Would, strangely disappear. ; ■■•;■■•■■ I know that in all the worl i envies, ' ■ >> In rank and rioh.es aid name, ', ■, , His high-born ard haxighty lads- Would put my darling to shamo'» Bat I k now, too, of riches fop rarer" i '■'■<• Than ho ever has even guessed, i" . And of theso. though tho world may not ' know it, '•■. •• " My darling nod I are possessed. iIJ bxtilt Yes, \vo ' walk! through ' lovo's fair dominions; ••"' -"■,••■• And wo pluck the apples of gold, ' :s: And tho now to us is a heaven, , i. > Which hardly our souls can hold.' •■•>• n So his lady may wear hor rubies, And her ohaplet of gold and of pearls: HehasWon tho ooldlily of ladies, : . I have won tho red rosebud of girls. , r t ■

THE MESSAGE OF THE ROSB.

[From the Century Magazin£.\ ' "'"',■ ' ■' HE. She gave mo a rose at the ball to-night. ■, -; '< •- •■ • ■■ Andl—l'mafoollsupposo, -.-• ■ : For-my heart beat high with; a vague delight: Had she given me more than the rose J'' !' hi ''i'ju . . ; ,;..., ,:••.! . , (wn; in v> I thought that she had, for a little while. • U,i Till Isaw hor. fairest o£ dancers, ;l , QlvQ another rose with the same sweet smtto, i. To another man in tho Lancers. • . Well, roses are plenty, and smiles "not rare' It is really rather uudacians •■ < ■'■ To grumble becauso my lady fair ■ •"> .Is to other nicn kind and gracious. : Yet -who can govern his in-n-ardtlreaflis'?-'" "■ ---,. And my dream so precious and bright, >~, Nowfoollsli. broken, and worthless bc'ouib.'' ' Asitfades, with hor roses, to-night, n •'• •. ■,'■*. '. '" srtEi: ■ "■'' ' ' '■■':'.' I gave him a ro°e n t the ball to-nfeht,., , '', ■ A deep red rose withfragranoo dimi',. " Ayd tho warm blood rushed to my elieekn with fright; I could not, dared not, look at him. , «ifl n. ■ For the depth of my soul ho seemed to scan).' His earnest look I couWriot bear,: ' '" /> *.; So I gave a rose to another man, ."s/« -,» ■■•■ .ififoifp else, I did not caro..;. A '^itsiiu". •*• • And- yet. splto of all/ he has *cad, I taio^f,, I ij- Mv message ,-' he could not Have mlsseait s For his rosol heldto my/bosom, BOi -urn j»MJ And then (o my lips whllolkißßcdip f ; 7 ;i>,ii'»^j