THE DOCTRINE OF EVOLUTION.

[By T. AW Leys.]

In preparing those articles, the difficulty has not been to find material, but to seloct the salient points from that mass of evidence which has led the most eminent scientific men of the present century to icject ihe doctriues espoused by Mr Darwin, or only tt allow them a very minor place in the de velopment of the forma of life now repie sentcd upon the earth. It may be admitted that naturalists, in their anxiety for minute classification, have perhaps sometimes drawn the line too tightly between species, and that the observations of Mr Darwin partially account for variation." within the great families which haye ap peared in successive uges. But Mr Darwin's ' monstrously exaggerated claims on behalf of a very subordinate law in Nature, in volve such a total reversal of everything we know of the methods by which species maintain their position on the earth, that we should be compelled to 1 eject them if the supporting evidence were a hundred-fold stronger thau any that has yet been adduced, and were not con tradicted at every step by phenomena which are utterly inexplicable npon tlu hypothesis of evolution. Mr Darwin made no attempt to account for the origin of lift or sensation ; his theory ia entirely coniiucd to suggestions regarding possible causes ol modification after life has arisen, And those theories, as we have seen, mainly rely for proof upou variatisns within species ex hibited by domestic animals, fuueiful re semblances, strained deductions, and purely dogmatic assertions. Professor Owen will not bo suspected of prejudice against Mr Darwin's work, when he declares his dis passionate judgment on tho observations recorded iv "Iho Origiu of Species:" "All these, however, are conceptions ol what may havc,nol of what have originated a species, applied to the structures whicl differentiate Troglodytes from tiomo, oi Otiiromys from Lemur, they are powerless to explain them, and the structural differ ences in these instances is greater than iii many oilier species maintuiumg their dis tinccion by sexual incapacity to produce fertile hybrids."*

ISeforo glancing again at the ground ovei which wo have pa»serf, it is desirable to consider what the Darwinians reallj ask people to believe. .Professor Hiecke'l requires them to picture " the prime val parents of all other organisms,1' in some microscopic " homogeneous organisms ai are yet not differentiited, and are similar to the inorganic crystals ib being homogeneously composed of out single subatance."t These organisms pre sumably made their first appearunct on the planet at the bottom of some sea in the Laurentian poriod. Let us fust imagine the task set out for this simple germ, without sensa tion, and hardly visible under the most powerful microscope, and conceive, if we can, any possible variation, or any strugglt for life, by which might be evolved from it the' order, the variety, the beauty of Animated Nnture. Think for one motuen' of the dclicale mechanism of the human body, in no portion of which can a piuV point be inserted without perforating » nerve nnd a blood-vessel. An obtusoness bordering upon intellectual stupidity, n neces-iary to believe that these and myriad. of other effect.", visible everywhere arouod find any rational explanation iv such ab surdly ioadequate causes as Mr Darwin and his apostles offer. Mr Denton candidly confessed that he could no more believe that such results wore tho product of acci dental variation than he bilieved that a rock rolling down-hill had sculptured the statue of the Duke of Wellington. No? can any other reasonable man do so who is not wilfully self-blinded. The entire atti tude of evolutionists of the tine Darwinian school i? utterly absurd and inconsistent In the occurrence of rude flints in caves and gravel beds, disassociated from human re mains, they perceive and eonfiden lj assert tbe presence of man, and yet lhej can survey a creation in which law, order and marvellous design aro unitcrsal, and declare it to be the product of a succession of accidents. One achievement of this new development of teleology as interpreted by Huxley ii the domODstratien to those ignoraut people who conceived that eye* wcrs made to see with, that they are labouring under a sad delusion—the eye, they assuie us, is simply the effect'of outward impressions on a piece of sensitive skin ! 'ihe skin that would produce the eye, die reasons for itn production ami location, are, however, left to the imagina tion ; they aro nowhere to be found ii Nature. The very potsibility of variatioi in marine monads is simple assumption. Dr. Wyville Thomson, of 11. M. Challenger acientitic expedition, declare) that his eight years1 observation of tho ocean fauna " refust to give the least support to the theory which refers the evolution of species to extreme variation guided by natural selection," and Professor J, Gwyn Jeffries fays ht "cannot understand how either natural oi sexual selectiou can affect the marine inver tebrates, which have no occasion to struggle for their existence, and have no distinction of sex " Aud we prefer their observation* to a volume' of Huxley's and baockel's theories, however ingonious and plausible. We have rummaged those thcoiies iv vain torasingle intelligent answer to thejrpiestion befote propounded : Why, if these /orms are constantly developing; towards the posses sion of eyes and ears, Naturo'a inevitable failures are nowhere to be found ? Every where creatures are perfect after their kind Mr Darwin says : " Tbe most humble organism is something much higher than the inorganic dust nnuer our feet j and no one with an unbiassed mind can study any iving. creature, however humble, without beiog struck with enthusiasm at its mar vellous structure and properties."^ First of all, then, wa see a fixed and im passable gulf between tho organic and the inorganic— the living and the dead. Next, we have the perfection of every typa of life after its own order, a perfection that must have been subject to constant and notable exceptions if the higher species were the products of variations in the lower. Per sistence of species is the universal order ol the universe, and variation is limited byun fruitfulness—even the double flowers, acci dentally or artificially produced,-.are bar ren. Mr Darwin admits that "Some groups, as we have seen, have endured, from thf earliest known dawn of life to the present day."ll [The genus lingula is an ex ample.] We have next asserted that the geologi cal strata is uniformly adverse to the tbeorj of evolution. Jhe fact tiiat Lyoll, after 30 years' study of the fossils of the earth's cruat, and so long as he relied on his own observations, was found writing against tran«mutation of specios is sufficienth sigu'ficint; but specific facts tending m the same direction might be mnlt;pli«d in definitely. Suddenly in the Bilunan rocks contemporaneously with the humble cepha laspis, appears a shark—the very lrghest type of fishes, although lower f rms, afterward* known to us, are nowhere to bt found in these rocks. Again, in the Permian Period, lizards abruptly make their appearance which, upon Professor Huxley's own ad mission, "Differ aaton-'shingly little from tbe lizuds which exist at thu present day." And Mr Huxley is compile Ito acknow ledge that thoush_ these lizards continued almost without variation, and can be traced down through the succeeding strata to the present time, " We find no trace of lizards, nor of any reptile whatever in the whole mass of formations beneath the Permian." Uor are there any intermediary forms. Abruptly, again, in the l'riassic age, gigantic sauiians come on the scene, reptilos more highly organised than any now existing, thirty-two species of three toed birds, four times iarger than the ostrich (probably the imm*diate relation.* of ths New Zealand Moa) nnrl marsupialiaD mammalia. Again evolution is at fault — no intermediary forms have ever been found, Mr Huxley-lamely resorts to the plea of defects in "the geological record: "For my part," he observes, "J entertain no sort of doubt that the reptiles, birds, and mammals, of the trias, are the direct descendants of the reptiles, birds, and mammals which existed in the latter part of tho paleozoic epoch, but not in any area of the preaent dry land which has boen ex plored by tbc geologist. "§ Professor Hasckel, speaking of tho reptiles, says : " In the present state of our knowledge we are obliged to give up tbe attempt at es tablishing their pedieree."ir Principal Dawson says : "Physically, the transition from the Permian to the Trias ia easy. In the domain of life a great gulf lies between. The geologist whose mind is filled with th«

forms o 'lha'paleozoic period, ron Arising into the nnxt succeeding bed, feels himself a sort of Kip Van Winkle, who has slept a hundred years and awakes in a new world."* * lv the Oolitic, ,md again in Tertiary strata, the sarnn thing occurs. Professor Williamson says oE tbc transition from the Eocene to the Miocene : " Kemember, then, that in tha loweit part of the Tertiary series wo have scarcely any of thaso mam mals. The few found in Iho Kocene period am but scanty lepesentatives ot the nioup, but when wa turn a i-omcr it appears as if some threat musician had waved his hand, and, in response to the_ magic summons, life of tiie mos' varied character and in forms moat dis similar from what immediately preceded Hash into exis:enco."t|- Mr Deuton con fesied that he had hiraselt seen evidencr of the disappearance of one set of fosaile and the succession o£ a totally different net, having no relationship to them, within the space of two or three feet—an occur rence in which the theory of evolution was utterly untenable, rpeaking of fom great sub-kingdoms into which Animated Nature is divided, Mr Huxley says :—" Hi definitely and precisely marked is the structure of each animal that in the pre sent state of our knowledge there is not the least evidence to prove that a form in the slightest degree transitional between any of the two groups of vertebrated annulssa, mollusca. and crulentenita cithei ext3is or has existed during that period ol the earth's hUtory which v recorded h\ ihe Upon what, tuon, it will naturally ba a9ked, do the evolutionists rely in refuta tion of the mass of facts of which Wi have only indicated the barest outline ? Their stock of arguments, which arc reiterated with a wearisome monotony ol barrenness, b.-u afforded the nairow tract marking the limits of these papers : Varia tions in domesticity and under cultivation, far-'ctched deductions from animal rt sem blances, rudimentary or»aus. embryology A little novelty was give.i to ihe oU-toid story by Mr Huxley's atttm, t in the New York lectures to trace the pedigree of the horse in certain resemblances exhibited h\ tuo teeth and lunbi/jf tau lutlc h puariou ; but whi c car.fill to dwell upon points ol similarity, the lecturer \ery scrupulouah excluded all references to ihe many differen ces which discredit his theory. The idea that thi archreopteryx was iatenuediati between the reptile and th.- bird was earh demolished by Professor Oweu's iden'ilica lion of the fossil as the remains of a tru bird—and thousands of giant birds hud existed on the earth ages before it. Ever) teat that has ever been sug.es el to deter mine the power of vanatiou to alter species; has resulted adversely to evolu tion. The nuunniici of Egypt proved that a peiiod of four or five thousand years had left roan and domestic animals unchanged, and the discovery of human skulls, giving tbc evolutionists at still wider range of time, has extorted the confeaaiou tbat theii theory receives no suppsrt from the com parison. We have oil'ar.d tneui, in the fauna of New Zealand and Australia, a period ex tending from tho earliest dawn of life on the earth till now, and the answer is (till ihe same. Are we, then, to accept Mr Darwin's theories and opinions aud possi bilities against the teachings of recognised facts, the foice of which evolutionuts are compelled to acknowledge ? To do so is to undermine the very foundations of exac scieuce, and drive it from the secure fortress of ascertained truths into a thing of creeds aud beliefs. Passing on to the most paraded argu ments of Darwinist—Reversions, Embryo losy, and Rudimentary Organs-we have seen these thing--, when not ridiculously inconsequential, turn fatally ugain-it evo lution. The existence of unused organs strikes a deadly blow at tUe lav of Natural Selection, which insists on the conservation only of variations tha are beneficial and useful to a >pscie>. t>> strongly is this position suopoited that Mi Darwin withdrew many of tbe claims he had originally advanced 01 behalf of his pet theory. PKOOF OP A CRKATIO*. Having, therefore, teen the ycry found* tiona of Darwinism crumble away wheie ever a test is applieJ, we now coirn to consider Mr Demou's favourite barri cade :"I challenge anyone," s-aid ni, "to adduce scientific evi<!enca of creation." if by that wj arw to under stand that no one is tqual in these days to the inauufac uro of a iviuz being we leave him and his c «ba iev> ra in spon tanoous generation in undi pa c.l posses-ion ot the field. It, how vor, he means e»idence such as wo ord nirily accept as a demonstra tion of creaiion when ap| lieil to the produc tiou of au> anicloof human man- faaiure.we retort ttiat there is overwhelming evidenci in thousands of instances. Wa see a creature spring suddenly into being with out parentage, endowed with life, and ex hibiting a structure marvellously de»isned ; and, applying oar ordinary modes ol ronconiug, we say it is the handiwork of a higher intelligence. Lot us suppo eMr Huxley wandering with his frisnd Pro fessor H.Tckel in the midst of a tracklesi and uninhabited desert, when they stumble upon a well-built house. Mr Huxlaj says : " Some man has been this way befor. üb." "Oh, no," responds Hseckel, " (hat's i impossible; look at tbe country, no man could live here—that house has got there by chance-it ha» sprung up _ spon taneously, or the wind has blown it from the nsa^est town." Huxley retorts, " Why, there are ihe foundations well laid, and the liouta is constructed of sued excellent proportion) that not only a man, but a very intelligent one, has been at work," Hoockel, however, persintu that th» thinj; in impossible, and Huxley leaves him to his theory as a harmless sort of mono mania. Instead of a miserable house, we have exquisitely-formed creatuns, into the intricacies of whose structure and processes of self-development human intelligence lu> failed to penetrate; and yet Mr Huxley cannot perceive any insanity in attributing chia to chance. "Ah 1" says Mr Denton. "I agree with you there—the thing i> utterly incredible} but then it U 'spiritual tendency' supplies the key." Despite the most earnest and respectful solicitation, no definitixn of this " Spiritual tendency" has yet been offered; andificbad, there is a serious obstacle to its acceptance in the overwhelming weight of evidence against any succession of life by transmu tation of one species into another. It is, moreover, surely easier of belief that creatures were called into existence by the workn^ of the Creative Will, and endowed with all the powers necessary for perpetuating their species, after their own order, than that ihey have been moulded into shape by any "spiritual tendency." acting miraculously outside them, changing primitive form*, in the course of countless ages, to some ideal .of which the original creatures Wtre utterly unconscious, If, however, creation, in these days, U outside our own experience, _ Mi Deuton has assured us it i* within hia, He has gravely stated that a spasmodic female, sitting in trance condition, can materialise out of the air the substance of the human body, He has, himstlf, if wo rauy believe him, takeii caats in clay of hands so created. He refers us with perfect faith to Professoi Orooke*, who declares that he has hugged the full figure of a materialised spirit of the feminine gender and found it very sub stantial. He points us to Professor Zolluer, who testifies tbat a gold riug was takeD fiom his finger and passed through tbe -olid substance of a series of wooden boxes locked oue within another, without the boxts being opened or the material of tho ring 01 the wood injured. 'Ihe man who believe' all this and asks v* to show him a creation, or doubts the power of Deity to do won ders less repugnant to our knowledge of tlu properties of material substances than a be lief ia Zollner's rinar experiment demauds, is surely somewhat unreasonable in hU alternations of scepticism and ctedulity. Evolution in the Production of Sen sation and Mind. Let us now look for a moment at evolu tion from another aspect. If it has broken down in its attempted explanations of the physical structure, how much more lament ably has it failed to throw the faintest light upon sensation, the mental power*l, and spiritual existence. Darwin feels that it is folly to make the attempt; these phenomena are above aud beyond his philosophy. He says :-'' In what mannei the mental powers were first developed in the lower organisms is as hopele«s an in nuirv as how life itself first originated, these are problems for the distant future, if they are ever to be solved by man. ill! But it is just the mental power that make' the man; not his animal structure and propensities. A theory of the origin of man, without taking into account hi. mental and moral power, is a veritable Hamlet, with the prince l«ft sur. And Dar winism in every shape In confessedly tnat theory. The smallest mak human *kuil

has twice ihe braiu capacity of the largest gorilla, but the proportion of 2 to 1 is not fractionally typical of the va»t jjulf fixed be tween man's intelligenct and moral powers and the highest type •£ animal {which Mr Wallace justly observes would not be found in uny of ilr -i monkey spae'et, but in the ele phant or dog). Tbe quality of the brain substance is nioro important than ita size. Some of the very largest healthy brains have been found in men and womou without in tellectiiiil capacity, and heads average larger iv size in high than in equatorial latitudes, irrespective of the average iatel liaenee. A certain amount of brain is in 'lispennalile to tliu discharge of merely animal functions, An infant eighteen months old exhibits infinitoly higher intel tactual powers than an ape of mature age. The gap between uiau aud the ape, wUieh structurally evolutionists confens t» 1*« biidgeless, ia mentally and morally removed toa degree that places tbe possibility of a ili* tontafliuity beyondcr»dence. Mistaken idea* of ilia intellectual status of barbarous races, alluded lo in a former paper, have had some thing to do with the belief that thin chasm tni»ht one day be spannod by future discovery. Man contains iv hii own person the completa answer to the evolutionist. The fruit of the ages, he i* symbolical of t-verythiuj; which ia an evolutionary sense is a weakness. Tho mo3t helpless of al creaturej ; for the tirst year of his life un able to walk, and for many year* incapable of supplying his own bodily necessities ; utterly destitute ot clothing, without claws or teuth, or physical strength or nwiftness, to procure for himself food or nafeiy, it is, as »ir John Lubbock acknowledges, extra ordinary that he should have held his own agairut the terrible enemies that roamad ihij earth.§§ His, intelligence—tho sole means of his preservation—could not have ilways belonged to him if ho were the pro duct of evolution, and for its acquisition evolution offers no explanation. i'iik Moral and spibitualj Aspects ok the Question. 'When we pas* from the mental tv the moral and spiritual seusos of man, in herited variations, natural selection, and all the puny artillery of the evolutioniit aro trundled off the baule-field. They cannot explaiu the puwer of thought, how much lea can they approach that 'Still small voicH " of conscience which is unwearying in its protests against all the animal in atiuct.i, the sharp claws, the ruthless crush ing down of weaker members, which ia the essence of evolutionary ethics, and in elevated by its philosophy into a divine law, Kead by the light of Darwinism, the conscious instinct of immortality, c instant in the human mind, is nliko a fraud and an inexplicable phenomenon. Grant the widest latitude to every evolutionary principlc,aud it is incapable of genoratiug aught that is not puroly physical -notkiug that is above material causation. The admission of Bjnrit compels an acknowledgment of miracle and the supervising coutrol of a personal Deity. And_ whore does the doctrine ot i!V«lution, viewed in i's strictly logical and materialistic suiuo, laud its votaries, save in the presence oi tha Infinite and Uu tnowable. Eloquently declaimed that eminent French physiologist, M. Pastenr, upon this subject, at v meeting of the Proneh Academy, on the 27th of April last: "He who proclaim! tha existence of au infinite—and no one oun evade it - igaerts more of the supernatural iv tbat attirmiition than exists in all the miracles of all religions; for tha notion of the infiiiiio has the twofold character of baing Imsistible aud incomprehensible. When this notion surges on the mind thcro is noihing left but to bend the knee. In that inxi'jiis moment all tho springs of intellec tual life threaten to suap, und one feels near being seized with the sublime mad ness of Pascal.'• Of what possible ueo is this doctrine of evolution to a humanity which craves for living realities to quicken its ptilneß of action and impel it onward to a higher destiny ? If w« want brute tj pas, we have uor, ala«, to seek for th.m in fossil bone*. It baa been vauntingly said that scence is to regenerate the world aud create the religiou of the futuru. Tbe veneration and humility of a Newton and a Hcrscbel might have done this, but what has the world ever <wed to the arrogant exponcuts of Darwinism ? To tho true workers in science—the Watts, the Arkwrights, the Stephen sons, tho Karadays, the Davys, the Morses, the Kdisons, and hundreds ot others who are workers, not talkeis, the world owts much, and will yet owe more. But what is the amount of ite debt to the Darwins, tho Hrockels, and the Huxley*, that we should acknowledge their claims to fill the whole field in soienco,in r2ligion,and philosophy? Look around on toe crushed down masses strutting sorrowfully but bravely amid the weight of inequable sur roundings for some glimpse of the noble and divine. What, consolation, what hope is there for them in tbis creed, which makes tbe instrumeutu of snecess in a ti^ht for brute supremacy its Alpha aud Ume^a, ahd telfishness the governing law of life? Read by its light philanthropy, patriotism, and all tho^e deeds of self sacrifice" which give nobility to the soul, are amiablo weaknesses. Is this tbe creed that is destined to regene rate the world, aud to accomplish what the inculcation of virtue as a duty alike to God and mun has lailod in accom plishing? lot those who believe it go ou .-"earchiug with their mole-like cjes for 3omo new lionu to link man te the brntea ; what can they know of tbo.is higher truths tbat are revealed, not to the intellect, bat direct to the heart—tho indwelling spirit of man ? Still will there be thousands, with quickened spiritual in sight, seeking after some new truce of the Sod-l'ks in huniauity, aud carrying with them the panting heart of the people. Still will the conscious living presence uf God's sp; rit in the soul of man bring to him a perfect rest, lifting him above and beyond die mournful incongruities of his material circumstances, and nerving him to the en durance of those human cares, and tho per formance of those hard unyielding human duties, which fall to the lot of mankind, Still will humanity draw now hopes, new aspirations, new impulses to virtue, and new consolation from that image of the Infinite Spirit reflected in a perfect humanity. And wbeu Darwin and hia apostles shall have been forgotten, still will Do" heard in ever-growing tervour, welling up from the depths of mau'a spiritualnatmp, tbe song and the prajer-^

Rock of *> ges, cloft for me, Let mo hide myself in thee,

An Extraordinary Story.

A CORRESPONDENT in the West of England writes :—A remarkable affair is reported from a fashionable sea-side town in the west. About eighteen months ago a respectable artisan lost his wife, and being left with several children, he advertised for a housekeeper. He received a reply from a "widow," and after negotiations by letter they came to terms. She represented that she had been left .£3,000 but being desirous of continuing in service she had accepted the present situation. In a few weeks she became her employer's wife, the ,£3,000 proving a tempting bait. In the course of a short time a '' gentleman who was going abroad" called on the family. He wished as an old friend of the lady to give her a present before leaving England, and he was accordingly represented as having deposited £1,800 in a local bank to her account. Up to this time the parties had been living in a respectable terrace, bnt the lady now objected to a " terrace," and a villa was taken. In a short time she expressed a desire to purchase the villa —" they might as well become their own landlord " —and negotiations were accord ingly commenced, and the work of laying our a carriage drive, building stables, &c, was begun. All this time letters and " docu ments" were coming to and going from the house. Before, however, the deposit for the villa was paid the husband was anxious to have the legal control of the "fortune" made over to him as had been arranged, but the wife urged various excuses. Meantime a creditor met at the house a solicitor, who had been engaged by the wife to draw up the necessary " documents," and the result was the visit of a , legal gentleman to a town some miles off to see i a " colonel," represented by the lady as one of her trustees. No such person, however, could be found, and on a subsequent visit to the Probate Court of the county town to inspect tlie wills of both her father and late husband, who were stated to have been both clergymen of the county, no trace of any such wills could be found. The lady, finding that inquiries weie being made, absconded, and the husband soon discovered that she had run him into debt to the amount of /700. The poor man, who had given up his employment soon after his marriage in view of the "fortune," is thus ruined, and much sympathy is felt for him. The woman is suspected to be the same person whoa few years ago, in a seaside resort in the same county, took a large house, furnished it elaborately as a lodging-house, and, after living in the best style for a time, and making away with some of the furniture, suddenly dis appeared,

Mr. Parchment's New Client.

Mr. Parchment generally regarded anew client with ;i certain amount of distrust, being an old-fashioned family .solicitor of Conservative notions, with n very respect able and wenlthy connection, lint Mr John Downing came to him wiih an introduction from a reliable source, and at a glance Mr. Parchment was favourably impressed by him. He turned out to be an elderly gentle man, .somewhat infirm, with an air of im portance and quiet dignity which the lawyer had learnt from experience to associate with a good rent-roll and a predilection for the Three pr centi. Mr Downing commenced by apologising for tha lateness of tho hour ha had chosen for hiii visit, it being then between six and sev«u o'clock in tbe evening. Observing that the old gentleman was mntilod up to the eyes, aud spoke in a hoarse whisper, as though he were suffering from some affection of the chest, Mr Parchment remarked upoi the imprudence ot his venturing out aftC' dark. " If it does me any harm, I shall have to bear the consequences," replied Mr Down ing, rather sharply. "The fact is, noboiiy knows I have come out. At the present moment I am supposed to bu confined to my room with bronchitis." Mr Parchment opened his eyes at this. but said nothing, while the old gentleman ' indulged in a quiet chuckle which termin ated in a lit of coughing. " I—l asked our mutual friend, General Turnbull, to introduce mo to a solicitor of eminence, on whoso discretion aud integrity I could rely," said Mr Downing, when his cough had ceased. "He gave me a letter to you, and I have taken the earliest opportunity of wiling. I wish to make si fre-li will, Mr Parchment.' "So I anticipated," said the lawyer, who had gii'.ssed what was coming. " 1 intend to dispose of my property ia a manner that my relatives would not approve of," continued Mr Downing," and therefore I wish to have my will drawn by a gentle man of eminence aud standing ia the legal profession. ' " A wUo precaution,"said Mr Parchment drily. " 1 shall also auk you, as a matter of business, to net as one of my executors," said Mr Downing. "It will theu be your duty to npliold the will, in case it should he disputed. "I hardly think, sir, that my business engagements will permit me to accept the ollice," replied the lawyer, who did not relish the prospect ot being made respsn sible for the] vagaries of un eccentric testator. " I said, an a natter ot business. Of course, I should not think of asking you to act for nothing," said Mr Downing. "1 will leave you five hundred guineas for your trouble, and besides tiiat, there will pro bably be a good deal of profit attachud to the winding-tip of my estate." Mr Parchment poiceired from thiatpeech that he had to deal with a rhrowd, clear hcatlod man, nnd hi» therefore felt lean hesitation about complying with his wishes. No doubt tho legacy and,the prospect of future busineis had their influence nl o, though the lawyer afl'ectoJ to be quite in iMferent to these inducement*. Ku rellect cd a few moments and then said :— " Well, Mr Downing, it will depend, of c-u so. on tho nature of the trusts." " There will be no complication, for I pro pose to lejve everything to one individual," replieJ Mr Downiug, " I may mention tint I tun a bachelor, and my only ncur relation is a nephew, wuo has behaved badly to mo, so 1 determined to disinherit him." " If, ns you say, the matter h quit* straightforward, I shall have no objection to act," said Mr Parchment, taking up his pen, and drawing a sha«t of paper towards hiiii. " Will you give me the necessary iustructiona for your will!" " I leave everything to Edward Alfred Husketb, and I appoint him joint executor with you," said Mr Dewning. rendily. "And who may Mr Husketti bo?' in quired the lawyer, as he wrotd down the name. " My man—valet, I suppose you ought to cull him," answered the old gentleman. "Dear me!" exclaimed Mr Paichment, leaning hack in his char. " And you leave him everything ?" "Yes." "Absolutely ?" "Of course. You ace your dutios will be very simple." " lint have jou considered, Mr Downing ? A man in his position " " I know all that," interrupted the old gentlomnu, testily ; "that is what everyone will say, and tlwt is why I wish a lawyer of respectability like ycursclf to act as my exoeutor, in order to protict his interest*. You will find Huskcth a very decent fel low, well educated, ana bo on, and quite gentleman euou»h to ninke better use of my money than my nephew could." Mr Parchment »aid no more, a« it wan qnito clear tlmt Mr Downing had deliber ately made up h'S mind. After ad, the lawyer felt no interest in the ditinheritod heir, and ho knew instinctively that h'S new client was not a person likely to be swayed by impuls", or to take a icrious ttep without exercising his judgment. He therefo'c drew up the will according to in structions, not omitting the legacy to him self ; aud Mr f'owning called and exocutcd it in due form the following cv ning, in-ist ln<t upon pivying the fees on thu >pot. The will was confided to Mr Parchment's care, and Ihe new client ' tonic his departure, apparently much relieved in his mind. But the lawyer felt very uncomfortable whoa ho reflected upon the nutter. The idea of a client bequeathing his property to a servant, to tbe exclusion of his own: relatives, was repugnant to Mr Parohmeut's old-fushioned notion* of justiou and decorum j and his conscience tmoto him for not having protostod inoro strongly against su:h a disposition, T" "*so his miud, ho roso'ved to call upon old Mr Downing, and make an ofFort to induce him to modify his will in favour of iho nephew ; bat this pro ject wns the outcome of several weeks', uneasy reflection, and in accordance with the legal procastination, ho put off his visit from day to day, until ho was shocked and startled to hear of the death of the object his solicitude. Mr Parchment waa too practical to worry himself with vain roivets, and, ho therefore at Qiioe proceeded to discharge the duties imposed upon him by the will. Ho found the fortunate legatee a sleek, e'enn-shaven, quict-manneicd, middle-aged individual, answering very well to his late master's description of him. Mr Huskcth expressed mild surprise when the important news was communicated to him, tout allowed no emotion whatover. Though he treated Mr Parchment with respectful deference, the lawyer could scethathe intended to manage his own affairs, and was not likely to dovelopo into a tractable, confiding client. Perhaps it was owing to this circumstance that Mr Parchment conceived a strange aversion to his co-executor—-so much so, that he did ivit feel very lfiyajly disposed towards him. On the othpr h,and, he sympathised very much with the qld man's nephew, Arthur Downing, who came up to town to attend bis uncle's funeral. When Mr Parchment informed him of the purport of the will, he bore his dis;tpointnient >o bravely, without ajtraoe of anger or rosentment, that the old lawyer's expressions of coudolanoe had a genuine ri, gin them. Arthur Downing explained that ho had incurred his uncle's displeasure by marrying against the old man's wishes, and lie was therefore not altogether surprised at being disinherited. ; At the same time, his uncle bad written him a letter shortly before his death, in which he did not repeat his threat of alter ing his will, and Arthur Downing had come up to town in the full expectation that he was his uncle's heir. Mr Parchment was much struck by tho magnanimity which the youns; man displayed towards Mr llusketh. Far from attributing lji s rival's good fortune to chicanery or undue influence, he said that his uncle had always rather distrusted tl\e man, and was not the Jesst likely to have consulted him about the disposition of his proporty. He expressed l;is conviction that Huskcth was a highly respectable person, and frankly admitted that his long and faithful service cntitlod him to substantial bonefit3 from his late master. When the young man proceoded to say that he must now resign his commission, and emigrate to tho Colonies to be&in life afresh, Mr Parohmont felt that he would gladly forfeit his legacy if he could find a flaw in old Mr Downing's unjust will. However, he knew very well that the document was perfectly valid od the face of it, and he therefore had to content himself with wringing William Downing1* hand sympathetically as they parted with mutual expressions of good will. Tbis interview, though it tended to in crease the lawyer's antipathy to Mr Husketh served to satisfy him of the man's integrity, and he therefore took the necessary steps for proving tho will without delay, leaving his coexecator to dispose of the testator's furniture and household effects. As old, Mr Downing, though a rich'-.-jnan, only occupied tho upper part .of a house in - i fir ■nn n il| M.-mtwjt y "CT7I JXUU&XtUiQ*'-' "'*' • ">■ -

Darewood-square, his domestic adaii's.were easily arranged, ami the lawyer was much impressed by the cool, business-like mannoi1 in which the late valet set to work. One cveninsr, about a week after the funeral, Mr Parchment was preparing to leave tho oflice at an unusually early hour for him, when Mr llusketh was announced. The ex-valet appeared less placid and self possessed than usual, and asked the lawyer to let him have a loan of £200 for a few d*ys until the probate of the will could b' obtained. Though surprised at the request Mr Parchment asked no questions, but a' once wrote a cheque for the amount, llusketh was auxious to receive tnc money in cash, but as the lawyer could not accommodate him, and the banks were closed, ho had to be coutent with an open cheque. Hating hinded forer the draft, Mr Parchment dirouted hU confidential clerk to prepare a formal receipt for Mr Husketh's signature and hurried oil' to keep an appointment. Next morning, when he reached the oflice, his clerk, anintellifientyoungfellow, who had a desk in the corner of Mr Parch ment's room, closed the door behind him with au air of mystery, and said: — "If you please, sir, I have ventured to ston that cheque you gave Mr Hutkclh last night." 1' What!" exclaimed Mr Parchment,quite aghast. " How dare you* do such a thing without asking me?" " When old Mr Downing signed his will, sir," said the clork hurriedly, " I was one of the attesting witnesses, *and I noticed that he had a singular acar on the back of his hand. 11 " Well, and what if he had ?" exclaimed the lawyer, irritably. " It is a singular coincidence that Mr Husketh has a precisely similar mark on the back of ha hand—a scar like a burn just below the wrist. I noticed it when he signed the receipt yesterday," said the clerk impressively. It.fore Mr Parchment had time to com ment on this communication, another clerk entered the room, followed by a young womau, who did not wait to bo announced, but pushed herself iv front of him, and con fronted the astonished lawyer with Uaming cheeks and Hashing oye». In her hand she held a slip of paper, which ho recognised as one of his own cheque*, and this circum stance helped him to identify the youug woman as the servant-maid who iiad opened the door to him when he called at U aro wood-square to announce to llusketh his good fortune. "What is the meaning of this?" she cried, holding out the slip of paper, with trembling lingers. "I am sorry," said Mr Parchment, per ceiving that it was tho cheque lie bad given to Huskcth. " Thore hai been a misunder standing, I'm afraid. Pray be Mated. 11 "Misunderstanding I Yes, I should think so I" exclaimed the young woman, speak ing in a shrill and excited voice. "He told me I had only to go to the bank and I should got two hundred sovereigns for that, instead of which I am treated hko a pick pocket, and sont over here. I knew it was only a trick of his. He wanted me to go without the money; but I knew him too well; so then he gives me this to quiet me." "Where did he want you to go to?" inquired Mr Parchment, pricking up his eara. "To Holland first, and then he was to join me in week or two, as soon as he'd got the money," replied the young woman, who seemed carried away by furious indignation; "but i.fter being treated like this, he won't get mo Mit of the country'—not he I I can ko ■: his game; he wants loget me out of the way because I know too much—the mean-spirited, slyfacal scoundrel!" "If you tell me what you know it will be to your advantage," said Mr Parchment, wit i sudden int.rest, : "I don't know what he has been up to, if you mean that," replied the woman, viciously ; ' I only wish 1 did. But you ssk him why tie came crecpin' iv with master's cloihcs, and so disguised that I thought it was master himself for the minute, though I knew poor Mr Downing was lying up stair* too ill to movg hand or foot " "Bess my s ail!" oxclaimed Mr Parch ment, uoarly jumping out of his chair. " Can you—ahem ! —are you aware whether the lite Mr Downing had a scar on the back of his right liaßd, like Mr Huskcth has?'' " I'll swear he had not, for I nursed him through his last illness," said the woman, promptly. Mr Parchment drew a long breath, and exchanged a significant glance with his clerk, who at once took a cab, and drove to Scotland-yard, while the lawyer despatched a brief telegram to Arthur Downing.— Truth.

Fishing In the River Jordan.

My tents were pitched among the olive trees on the bank of the east branch of the upper Jordan, only a (evf rods below the mighty spring? at Banias.thc ancientCwsarea Phillippi. The Jordan rises from various grent springs in the west and south-west sides of Mount ller mon. The western branch, which comes down the gorge between Herinon and the Lebanon range, flows practically southward from its source till it comes out on the plain above the waters of Merom. The Banias branch springs out of the rocky mountain side, at that vil lage, descends the declivity in a torrent, receives the flow of the great spring of Dan three or four miles l»elow, then joins the west branch and the river pursues its course, widening into Merom, and resting again in the Sea of Galilee.

The sun was an hour above the western hills. So I took out a light rod and a book of flies and small spinners, and went up to the spring where the waters began their course. What fish might be in the river and what flies to use 1 knew not. But it is very certain that if there be any game fish in any river or lake a judioious use of flies or spin ners will bring them to hand.'

The cavernous opening in the precipitous rock of the hill, out of which the spring once flowed, has crumbled, and the clear water gushes and bubbles out in countless little springs' among the debris. Remains of pagan worship are numerous, for the Romans, as well as their Qre?k and Phoenician prede cessors in power, had pultivated here the reverence and worship of the gods of the water, the woods, and the lower regions.

Turning my back on the old myths, I began to whip the stream where the various oozings of the fountain gathered in a some what smooth flow for a little. There w?r? a host of small fish not three incite? long, and at every cast I would r,al^p ono or two. But these young, descendants of the sacred fish of pkjen times were entitled to respect, and were carefully restored. I always regretted that I made no careful notes of the characteristics of the fish I took in the Sea of Galilee and in various parts of the Jordan. I then svmpasod that .they were known to the bo,ol;; and cata logued. I then only said to myself, " These seem to be some of tho small fry of tbe perch family^ 11 and I began to follow down the stream, seeking larger fish.

From the very start the river began a series of white plunge*, winding on its course, lush ing itself into millions of spavUUr\s bubbles too gay and evanescent to, bp callpd foam, pitching, tp,ssing, furiong. S.Therejwas no place for use of spinner, fly, or bait, Never was a more riable torrent. Crossing it was impossible. Down, down, down I followed, and followed content, for tho glory of such a cataract was worth enjoying. Still the sun went downward also over Lebanon, and the night was coming. Close by the bank of the stream I came on a group of Arabs, six men, surrounding a small fire of a few stalks of grass and weeds, They, welcomed a stranger with frai\k cor diality, and pressed me to share their evening meal, which they were then and there about to eat. It consisted of tough flat cakes of bread, roasted snails, and Jordan water. The snails were roasting in the ashes, big fat fellows, the shells nearly two inches in diameter. Roojst snails are not at all to be despised. Iliad eaten them before. I ate them with the Arabs now; and somewher,c I have tvvo or three of those giant shells, kept as a memorial of the hospitality of Lebanon Arabs to a strolling angler. High overhead the snow-clad summit of the Sheik of mountains, Herraon of old, was glowing in the light of the sun, which had gone down beyond Sidon on the waters of the great sea. A deep gloom seemed to be pour ing into the southern view, where away between the ranges of hills the gorge deepened downward, beyond Capernaum and Chorazin and Bethsaida, toward the sea of death. A cold wind swept down, making the Hermon dews to seem icelike instead of soft.

Slowly, rod in hand, without fish, I climbed the hill toward the tents among the olive trees at Banias. The red light faded on Hermon. It was dark before I reached home : for tents are homes, though they be movable homes, and all our homes are at best but camping places.—W.C.P. in the "Journal fo Commerce."

The acrobats of every household,—The pitcher and tumbler, An average m*n gives oiF 4.08 per cent, carbr.nic gas of the air he respires; respires 10,606 cubic feet of carbonic gas in twenty four hours, and consumes 10,669 cabic feet of oxygen, four_ drinks and an average of three five-cent cigars a day.

Her First Appearance.

It really \va3 'quite tool awfully vexing,' after all her preparations were made, that now, nearly at the last moment, such a con-' tretemps should pecur, aud the more she, thought of it themoro wits Mrs Stewart Allenhy in despair. ■ v ■And with good Tcnson, for she had issued cards for a morning conceit- a 'matirieje! muiicale, as shu cailuii io on the invitations;! the first she had ever given since plie^movedl to the yreat house in one of the mod fashionable roads in South Kfensinjjton and she particularly desired that it Should 'bo n success—and now Signorn Belcore ha'dgoiie and fallen sick at thu etevi nth hour, aud tho programme would tie too shore unless some one cuuld be found to sing the cavatinn from ' Linda do Clumounix.' 'Put iv a comic song instead,' suggested' Mr Allenhy, whose taste was not educated up to concert pitch. ' A. comic song indeed,' echoed his wife with a scornful laugh. ' George, yon urea fool.1 But an Mr Allenby had heard this brief statement a good many times before, be waa not at all discomposed by it. At that moment the door opened softly. Mrs Allenby started up. 'Williams' the cried to the footman, ' I'm not at homo ! Did'nt I tell you 1 could see nobody this morning I 1 1 Yes>, madam,1 the footman answered, coughing behind his hand ; ' but it isuJt company, madam—it's tUc visitiug gover ness.1 'O!' Mrs Allenby was visibly relieved, 'Come in Miss Ashton. Williams, call Miss Constance at once to her lessons.' Margaret ABhton came quietly iv, a little, gray dressed creature like a nun, with soft huzel eyes, a complexion as pale as ivory, and mended gloves upon her small hands, ' You are not well, Mrs Alleuby, 1 am afraid ?' the said gently, as she seated her self. ' I am well enough !' said Mra Stewart Alkaby, petulantly—' only Pra in despair. You donft know of anyone who could sint that Ciivatina for me, do you Miss Aahton ? ' ' Perhaps—l could,1 said Margaret. 1 You 1' Mra Allenhy stared as if the visiting governess had stated that she could con struct a sentenoe in Sanscrit. 'I could sing a little once,' said Mar garet ; ' aud that cavatina was one of my favourite pieces.' 1 You darling !' she cried. ' If only you could help me out of this dilemma. I'll be grateful to you all my life long.1 Margaret went back to the humble little suburbau cottage where she rented three rooms—a cottage where ahe supported a fretful valetudinarian mother, and a pretty widowed sister, whose life had been a failure all tho way through. 'Charlotte,1 she said to the latter, 'I'm going to sing at a concert next WedneS' day !' ' You !' echoed the widow. ' Yoa'll fail, for a certainty.' ' I can try,' said Margaret, with a flutter ing sign. ' Your voice is well enough," said her sister disparagingly; 'but it has no volnme. And you will never have the coutiudeuce to Bing before an audience,' Xhe tears came into Margaret's eyes. ' I must do somcthiDg, Charlotte,' said she. ' We cannot live ou as we are liviug now. We are in debt everywhere ; and siuce the doctor has prescribed dainties for mamma I haven't known where to look to for the money to buy then with.' ' Perhaps 1 shall got something to do soon,' said Charlotte, ' But, in the meantime,1 said Margaret with a sorrowful uplifting of her eye brows. She was a magnanimous little thing this hard-worked, pale-fuced, visiting governess, or she w.uld have reminded her elder sister that fitting all day with curl-papered locks aud dog's eared novels was no way to ob tain a lucrative atuation of any sort. 'It's very hard oo me,1 said Mrs Ashton, who sat with a devotional book in her lap and a bunch of grapes on a china plate be sido her. ' If Margaret had been like any one else she would have made a brilliant match long ago,' Margaret did not rcm'ud her mother how she had discarded Basil Hepburn long ago, because ha was not tsnllicicutly aristocratic and wealthy to suit Mrs Ashton'.-i lofty ideas—and how Mr Hepburn had had since become v rich man, and a man of rank. ' If he know how very poor we are,' said Margaret to herself, with a sigh, 'I think he would be sorry. But I could not tell him ; and now that he has gone to travol in Egypt and up tbe Nile, it isn't likely I shall soe him again.' 'You luiven't any more voice than a sparrow,' faid Mrs Ashton. 'You have nover cultivated what little you linvo,' said Miss Gharlotte; 'and the idea of your standing up to sing among those professional vocalists is simply pre posterous !' But Margaret stood valiantly to her colours, and when the eventful night arrived she stood there on the velvet covered platform in her well worn black silk, Hoftenod by bunches of palo piuk rose buds and drapery of misty blaok lace, a spray of rose buds in her hair, and an intent look in her soft brown oyes, 1 Now don't fail,' Mrs Allenby had whis perod as the portiers of crimson velvet were liftfid for hor to pirn upon the mimic stage. " No,' aln? answered, quietly, ' I shall not fail.' But fov an instant, as she faced the brilliant audlonco, the flutter of fans, the fltuh of diamonds, the glitter of the foot lights seemed to blind and dazzle her; a snfi'ocating sensation arose in her throat. 'I am going to fail,' she thought, and the recollection of Charlotte's disma.l pio phecics occurred to her, her mother's prog nostications of evil, her awn tormenting doubts. ' I will not iail i' ahe said to herself, and advancing boldly into the little arena, she faced the oirole of the intent eyes and beaan to sing, . Sweet and clear, like the liquid noted of a lark, her voice soared up, until, forgetting hor own identity in that ot Donizotti's Swiss heroins, she became ttlmnst inspired; and at the close a po'rfeot. shower of bouquets rained down upon the stage at her feet —an ova tion of voices rang up again and again hiideafening applause. But Margaret was conscious ouly of one tiling— sho had not failed. Mrs Allenby woloomod her rapturously to the pretty little ' green room.' 'Mydeai'Misa Ashton,'sbo cried, 'you n,re a gouius—a second Jenny Lind I Who was to suppose that you had such a divine voice? You aro the star of my little con cert —the prima donna of the evoniug ! JVo, don't take your bonnot,' as Margaret mechanically etretohed cut her hand for it. ' You must come into tho dtawing-room. They aro all wild to know ysu.' 'Hat I cannot,' pleaded poor Margaiet, with a downward glauce at hor dress. ' I am not prepared.' I You ac perfect,' said Mrs Stewart A Ueuby, with winning despotism. ' Besides oue of my guests says you are au ola acquaintance of his—Mr Hepburn, who has just returned from Palestine and the Holy Laud.' So Margaret was led into the midst of a flittering throng, ana introduced here and there, uutil like one moving in a dream,she found herself leaning on Basil Hepburn's arm. ' So you are a great singer,l bo said. ' 1 never sang in public before in all my life. 1 ' Yon will bo prouder and more haughty than over.1 I 1 was never humbler in all my life.1 'Margaret,1 he uttered softly. 'Well, Mr Hepburn !' ■Mr Hepburn ! that sounds cold. Suppese you say, as you used to say, Basil! ' 'Bnt things are not as they usad to be,' said poor Margaret, her heart beginning to boat unevenly inher breast. ' Can they not be so again, dear little Margaret?' he whispered, oending his tall head to the cluster of toco buds iv her hair, 1 Can we not go back to the initial chapter of our lives, and begin it all over again, lam a rich man now, but all my money cannot buy me any tieasure half so sweet and priceless as your love. Dearest Margaret, tetl me that you, tco, have not entirely for. gotten the past.' And Miss Ashton went home from Mrs Stewart Allenby's matinee musicale an en gagi-d young lady. ' I didn't tail after all,' she said radiantly. 'And I bad half-a-dozen applications to sing again at private_ concerts, and Mrg Allenby's money will just buy my wedding dress,1 So the current of true love was running smoothly again after all.

"Why," said the .-esthetic editor as he came into tho sanctum, "is my cigac intense!," "Give it up," said Ephraim. "Because it's too all butt," remarked the M E., plaintively. His place is now vacant. i >''•■■' <: •■■■' ' *~~£i —^~.7-V."".V".-".'."^-" "" •gecm«y. x

The St. Gothard Tunnel.

March 23rd witnessed the inaugaration of, perhaps, the grandest engineering feat ever attempted. In the St. Gothard Tunnel one more proof hns been afforded that modern enterprise refuscS'to recognise the impracti cability of any project, however stupen dous, which promises to meet, the con venience of the world. That prospect brings with it a hope of large profits, and for these man will attempt almost anything, as we have present witness in the prelim inary borings for tbo Channel Tunnel. The great hole which has just been completed is not one-half of the length ot the contemplated subway to connect England with Franco. The exsct distance of tho St. Gothard boring is 9 miles 46S yards, being about a mile'aud a half longer than its Mont Ceuis rival. Thanks, how ever, to recent improvement in the mechanical appliances used in tunnelling, the greater work has been finished in less time tban the smaller one. But this celerity does not appear: to have conduced 'to economy, the estimate of total expendi ture on the new tunnel being £7,000,000, or roughly:speaking, about £700,000 per mile. At the same ratej therefore, tho Channel Tunnel would cost £15,400,000, provided the strata through •which it was bored presented no greater difficulties than were met with beneath, the great Swiss mountain. Odd to say, the ohiet impedi ment was not the hard rock, but a layer of plastic clay. Of course, this could be cut through quickly enough, but the engineer in charge found immense difficulty in preventing the superincumbent mass from filling in the hqlo as quickly as it was excavated. Out of the 4,000 men who, from first to last, have been engaged in bringing this ma?nificcni undertaking to a successful conclusion, between sixty and seventy have lost their lives, while many more will suil'er for a long time to come from the diseases they acquired while constantly working in an unwholesome atmosphere, with a temperature of 100 degrees oi more. This, however, is the only shadow to mar the day's rejoicings, unless it be that some of the shareholders in tho St. Gothard lino doubt whether they will ever see a good return for their money.

Denominational Drops.

The North India Methodist Conference, which works almost exclusively among the heathen, has at present no less than 3,144 communicants, of whom 1,945 arc wembera and 1,199 probationers. The Conference is growing rapidly. The annual statistics of the Moravian Church in the States show that there are now 9,697 communicants, a gain of 13G; non-communicants over 13 years of age number 1,530 and there are 5 307 children. During the year 25 were excluded and 943 '■ dropped." Bishop Peterkin says that, contrary to the assertions of somo, it is a very common thing for ministers to decline churches that are ottered to them, with much larger salaries than they are receiving, because they are unwilling to give up a work in which they have become interested. There arc in the United States 3,239 Lutheran ministers. Of these the largest number in any one State is in Pennsyl vania, which has 550; Illinois has 365; Ohio, 340; Wisconsin, 265; Minnesota, 228; New York, 180; lowa, 168; Indiana, 135; Michigan, US. No other State has a hundred. • • The American Board in 1820 had 23 sta tions, with access to a population of 250,000, 88 missionaries, no native agents and no tcUools. It now reports 812 stations, with access to 100,000,000 souls, 404 mission aries, 1717 native agents and 87 schools, with 3,000 pupils. The expenditures have risen from $57,000 to §693,000.

"What is the meaning of a backbiter?" asked a clercyman at a Sunday-school exa mination. This was a puzzle; It went jown the class until it came to a simple rchipj who said, "^erhapß it be a flea," „..„.„ "'HKTtttY'fe'TPftNKß.'"

The New Eddystone Lighthouse.

The new tower stands on a rock about forty yards distant from its predecessor, and the surface of the rock is only just above the level of low water. On July 17tU, 187S, the first landing upon this plat-' form was made, and from that day up 'id' the present, arre-tod, of c urse, for a few weeks during the most stormy months a*> winter, ha-< proceeded to completion with-,' out daniago to life or limb. Tlu result is that instead of Smeaton's tower, seventy eight feet high, consisting of rather loss; than one thousand tons of stone, containing five stories, and lighted, until the present century, byfive-and-twenty tallow handles, We have now a fairy structure one hum! roil■ and thirty feet in height, consisting of four thousand six hundred and sixty-e;ght tons „ of masonry, containing nine stories, and ' lighted by Douglass's six-»iek concent ie ' burners. In Smeaton's day the illumina-,1 tion was produced by twenty-five can'dlcg 1 arranged on achmdelier, with no reflector/ to aid thnni. Early in the present ceimiry, twenty-five oil lamps with r-fleoro i's ■obit the place of the candles, and in li> t SFhs-' nel's dioptric system, producing ivi'e'Urgja!'' central flame With its raysmagTi iied%."_ii refracted—that is to say, bent iv lie'Hirbi'--; tion required — superseded the Argaiul - lamps. The two: lamps of Mr DouglaS3,;o'f, \jrhich on ordinary occasions but Obe isuse-', give a combined illumination power of it'J- qnartcr <;f. a million of candlts, or, in Mr' Price Edward's words,; "about six ilitin- ' sand times the'intensity iif the original candle-light of Siileaton's time." It may readily be imagined- that a ray so intense!'." shot fortu in flashes from a tower nearly twice as high as ihat of Smcaton, will bti seen by the mariner at a distance viistly greater than that penetrated by iis pied *- ccssor. hi this age of electricity it may be asked why the new agent has not be i utilised in the latest triumph of iiglitliqus V engineering; but a moment's reflection' will show that there is not room in tlie edifice for the enjjinos indispensable to the generation of clec'ricitv. The day, in nil probability, is not far distant when elictrio '; acciimulators will be brought to such per fection as 10 suffice for the maintenance nf light in a lonely S''a-tower for many weeks in succession ; but for the present the i»i w _' Eddystone is ligbtrd by colza or rape-seeil x oil, which is not subject to the dangeis in- ' separable from so inflammable a liquid as petroleum. An important fea ure in Ilit> ' now fabric is added by tbejtwo large b 1 h, ' weighing n couple of toris apiecl, and fixed ,'! under the lantern gallery, to be sounded l>y 1 thp same machinery which makes the ; lamps revolve. : • ■ linunv'l

A Remarkable Boy.

JoiiNNiß Beardsi.ee, youngest Bon of the ! Eev. J. W. Btardeloe, pastor of tl.e- Keformed Church at Constantine, Michigan, was born July 14th, 1879. He knew "this letters of the alphabet shortly after he w<n ..-.. . a year old j began to spell when a year and ji ' a half, and to read whoa two yea's aid : ' Wben he was two and a half years >• .1 01 had mastered Webb's First School liixi r. I have heard him read, writts v ,-• : ■' respondent (MrgN. JL>, Williamson, nf ' ' South Bend, Ind.), the lo»sonsnnd thelon; '■''• lines of words with such taste aa to' be assured that it was an intellectual and' nut a routine process. He obtained the liiun -'■ f of this book-knowledge by absorption, Wbil.} '■ ! bearing the drill gives by hh mother, tj a ' little coloured boy in the family. ' •'•■{ His parents then tried the sys'rem of re- ' pressioo, endeavouring to content him with '' the knowledge he possessed. But after rj. '■ ing this for three or four months, and fading '" they were compellfd to hide the childiuu'^ ;1 paper from him, they decided that it was ' wisest to give his mind freedom to work in ,L '• legitimate way, and s« gave him the Second ' l Keader, which ho began when two years .in I ' '■'" ten-months old. As he is a real boy in big ! ! love of fun and frolic, it does not lrjiiid' :;f'^ him physically j and as there has beo n.i "' "il crowding or cramming, it does not hiurii -'" him ißtellectually. 1 clobo with the quo . ' tion,j "Is ho the youneost reader n W ' ' '° living in tho world I". . , ..Ueidqua

STAR SATURPAY SUPPIEME^ -Mf^3¥A'M'iiWm



*Owen—" Introduction to Anatomy o£ Verte brates." tHreckel-" History of tho Creation, toi. 1, JDanvin—" Descent of Man." JlDarwin—" Origin of Species." SHuxley—" Crit. and Addresses." HHteckol-" History of the Creation," VOL 2,



••Dawson-" The Origin of the World.'' ttWilliamson —"Succession of Life on too jfe-; 'ffi~M a >D.''pa 8 e66,



§§Lnt>t>ock—" Origin o£ Civilisation."



... , i 7 iM. ■ I ■I'l !. ? n vf_, • ! . . . ~ ,:v ... |. | i r,..,,, .. || No. 300. Wl. H...SMITH'S 'No'B:p2. Cheap Drapery Warehouse. -V .;'I" ■•', ■ i (v..,,.) ■■■. i. ':-,;.:■] I,:/.A) P.UUl'ili •> NEW BUILDINGS (OPPOSITE ARMY AND NAVY HpTfs)'. i;" ' '.' . ' ~;!,,,: |,t'i,l uilv The follow in (j Special Goods are now on'^ale';— 1. ;',','i" ",! ,' .l.o:-.uo-w nnUn Good Value in Blankets, from 9/11 to 45/ per Pair l> i ■■•■• • -«* jni u°(rio-« Good Value in Quilts (choice of 200), from 4/6 : ;r "' " 1"-.""'1'"! ''" Good Value in 72-in. Washed Twill Sheeting, 1/ " ;].J,,,^!"|".7ut: jjlrij Good Value in Grey Calico, from /2^ ; White, /$ " ; '„,; \-wiliU U. Good Value in Twilled Homespuns, /4jJ£, /s^, &c. 'iiio kisl»ov^ Good Value in the Balance of our Winter Dresses >VIB !'!,'" Good Value in Lace Curtains, from 3/11 to 25/ ""'dt Jr> Good Value in Ladies' Ulsters, from 6/11 up Hi.->tsn Good Value in Ladies' Jackets (Tailor-made), 18/6 ' ' : '■>■ •♦ Good Value in Irish Linens, Damasks, and Handkerchiefs Good Value in Black Satin, at 1/11, 2/6, 3/6, &c. Good Value in Black Silks, at 2/11, 3/3, 4/6, to 6/9 :■ • 1 '\> Good Value in Shirting, from j^y^ upwards Good Value in Tapestry Carpets, 1000 yards at 2/6 Good Value in Ladies' and Children's Underclothing - ', '-, ■ !,', , Good Value in 500 pairs Corsets, from 2/6 to 10/6 . ■ , . . < >r: Good Value in Hosiery of every description '■.•'/ Good Value in Real Maltese Laces, from /i 1 to 4/6 Good Value in Haberdashery. Discount to Dressmakers Good Value in Large Towels, \\Y^ to' 2/6 ■:, < . ' : : Good Value in Flannels, from /6^ to 2/3 Good Value in Roslyn Flannels, 1/2, 1/4, 1/6, t/S, 1/10 Good Value in Gloves, Ribbons, Laces, etc. ' ":.!." 11 Good Value in Tweeds, from 1/3 to 4/6 Good Value in Black Cashmeres at 1/6, 1/11, 2/6 to 4/9 Good Value in Linoleum, 3/6 per square yard %M* SPECIAL VALUE!— We have purchased from a Dunedin firm, at an average of zzYi °^ Wholesale Prices, an almost complete Sot of Traveller's Samples, including Men's and Boys' Trousers, and Trousers and Vests, Suits, etc. HOSIERY. WOOL GOODS of every description. EUGS and BLANKETS. PELISSES, from 6/ 9 .— UNDEI?CLOTIIING.—MKWS HATS, from 2/. Real Laces—Shawls—Silk Squares-.lnfants' Robes- Pinafores—Men's Shirts, from is. ud. ; Men's Merino Vests, from is. 6d. etc., etc., etc. asf The above Goods are of ihe besi makes and choicest patterns, and will be sold at One-tkird less than usual Prices. Inspection and Comparison Invited.