A CONFIDENTIAL AGENT:

BY JAMES PAYN,

author of "By Proxy," "Under One Roof," "Walter's Word," "High Spirits," Etc,

CHAPTER XLIX. A NEW ARIUVAL. "How can ye pipe, ye little birds, and I so weary, full of care ?" inquires the poet in his desolation ; and the demonstration of happi ness In our fellow-creatures, the while we are ourselves bowed down with trouble, jars on us oven more cruelly thnu tlio glad voices of nature. It was Christmas-time, and into the bereaved little household in Cavendish Grove some echoes ot thesurroundingjollity perforce penetrated. Husbands came borne from business, not for a few hours only, but for one or two days of gladsome leisure, and were received with shouts of delight from their juveniles. Sabey heard them, and for once could not thank Heaven for the happi ness of children. No holly decked the house as in old times; Matthew, old-fashioned in his habits, and somewhat conventional in bis observances, had been fond of "keeping Christmas " in the ancient fashion ; and the women, country-bred, had been wont to adorn every room with glistening leaf and ruddy berry ; but they could not do so now, for it would have been a mockery of their woe. Below stairs, indeed, the servant girl had permission, as usual, to invite her father and mother to the annal feast; but even she felt the gloom of Matthew's absence, for master was—or, alas 1 had been—a great favourite with her, as musters will bo who never speak a cross word. Mary did not pretend to understand the ins and oil's of the Moor Street question, but she had the faith which brings forth work; for when tho butcher's boy had ventured to tell her, not in malice but as an interesting piece ot news, that a reward was offered for Mr. Helston's apprehension on the charge of having stolen «' dfamants," she had slapped one cheek for him with such good will that—notwithstand ing the season—he had not dreamt of offer ing the other, but had fled incontinently. Even the sprig of mistletoe which the green- f racer's man had brought as a free gift had eenreceived with a "Dratyourimperenca 1" instead of that " Get along with you 11" which, while seeming to discourage, had invited him on previous occasions. Her " otber maiter," as she sometimes en titled Uncle Stephen—being not so indepen dent of spirit on her own account as on that of others—she described as being " very low in his mind," which she had plentyjof oppor tunity of observing while she waited upon him at his lonely meals. For thero were now times when even Amy had not the courage or the strength to share them. It was not mere disinclination that prevented her doing so. Although wounded to tha very coro by the apostasy of Mr. Durham with respect to Matthew, she was just enough to perceive that he was not to blame for being unable to resist the force of conviction, and never for a moment di I she forget the obli gations which she, and Sabey, and Matthew himself, were under to the good old man. It was her duty cottainly to have borne him company in his solitude and she would have done so had it been possible. But her spirits, already depressed by the catastrophe ot Matthew, had been for the present fairly broken down by the loss of her lover.

With Sabey, indeed, she kept up ths ap pearance ot philosophy; for to have shown herself aa she really was would have been to add a grievous weight to her sister's burden; bnt this effort to hide her feelings cost her dear, and rendered her stiU moro unfit for the compainionship of others. On Christmas, day, however, she didmaka shift to come down to dinner. (Sabey also had attempted to do so, but some pang of recollection, or association, had proved too intense for her at the last moment, and she had remained upstairs with baby.) The meal was early, and, as it happened, it was tho first time Mr. Durham and herself had met that morning. He looked very worn and wan, but mustered up a smile to greet her.

" If I do not wish you a happy Christmas, Amy," he said in a low and gentle tone, " you will nnderstand the reason."

Even that was too much for the poor girl —or perhaps it was the tenderness with which he spoke that moved her—and she burst into tears.

" I am glad to sec you cry, my dear," he said, simply. "Do not be ashamed of it," he added, perceiving her efforts to restrain herself, f' I would cry, too, if I could. How is Sabey ?" " The same—the same. Only, I think the day—being what it is—has upset her." Mr Durham sighed and held up his hands.

" Christmas Day," he murmured,bitterly. " Glad tidings of great joy !" "It has done me good, however, said Amy, humbly. "It has reminded me of my duty—my loving duty. Will you kiss mo and forgive me, Uncle Stephen ?" '•I will kiss you, my dear, but I have nothing to forgive," " Yes, yes, I havo done wrong. Matthow himself would say so if he could speak. I have.been hard and cruel to you." " Not to mo, my dear, not to me, but to yourself-and to another." "Then I ask Ids pardon, too," she mur mured.

" May I tell him so ?" "No, no; that is—any message from me would be misundgrstood."

"Do you know whither he is gone, Amy?" "No; don't tell me; all Is over between ns, past and gone for ever. Spare me, I beseech you, spare me," she added, implor ingly. "Well, we will speak no more of him just now. I wish you to know, however, that his last act before leaving England

" England ?" " Yes; I say his last act was to draw up a will for me by which dear Sabey will very soonbe frcedfrom at least material anxieties. I mention it in case, for the child;.', sake, such fears, in addition to her other woes, should be pressing upon her." " How good and kind you are 1" "She'does not^think so," sighed Uncle Stephen. " Indeed, indeed she docs," cried Amy earnestly. "And does she know how I have been convinced against my will as regards Mat thew, " inquired the old man eagerly. "Oh, no; oh, no. If she did—with me, much as I love Matthew and believe in him, and shall do so while life is in me, it is different—but "

" But if Sabey knew," " you were about to say."

.".Uncle Stephen she must never know." •'I understand. If »he did, she would not take a penny of my money, dead or alive; and never forgive me." "Indeed I fear it."

"But if in the meantime, something should occur which puts beyond all doubt— all hope—the question on which we differ ?" "You mean if Matthew should be proved guilty ?" "Yes. Do not be angry: I merely put a suppositious case; if you will have it so, an impossible one." " In such a case," said Amy slowly, "the child might benefit by your good intentions; the mother would die. But there can be no such proof." Here there was a loud double knock at the front door. "What is that?" cried Amy. with a quick start, " I cannot tell. It may be what I fear and you deny." Shcßhook her head. "It is not that," Bhe said.

" And yet you shuddered, Amy," " Yes ; because it may be tidings of his death—of his dishonour never."

Here the door opened, and the servant maid was pushed aside by a short, spare old man, with withered face, but keen and piercing eyes. "How are you?" he said quickly. "You don't know me, hut I know you. " You're Mr Durham—his uncle, like myself; and you are Amy Thurlow, his wife's sister."

" It is Mr Roger Helston, from Latbury," explained Amy to Uncle Stephen, "Yes, I believe so; though things have happened enough to make one doubt one's own identity," put in the visitor with irri tation. "What is the meaning of it—this reward for Matthew's apprehension ?" " It ia an infamous and lying charge made by Lady Pargiter," answered Amy. "Of course it is. My nephew and a thief t Why, damn her impudence, I'd as soon believe he was—well a unicorn. But what does it mean ? I'll make her pay for it; he shall baye the best counsel in all England—Stork must lead—if it costs me a thousand pounds. We'll lay the damages at ten thousand. Where is he ?" "Heaven only knows," said Mr Durham gravely. '• Oh, I see," replied the other impe tuously : ."Matthew has not turned np yet.

Stark shall be retained, forthwith. My nephew and a Helston called a thief I That shall cost her ladyship a pretty penny. Where's Matthew's wife ?" "She is upstairs, sir," said Amy, unwell both in mind and body — " Ay, ay, sick and sorry too, no doubt, interrupted the other brusquely. "I see you are going to dine. As I have touched nothing since I read this cussed thing at Latbury last night, I'll just sit down and peck a bit. At meals I never listen to any matter of moment, the discussion of which always interferes with digestion ; but after dinner you ihall tell mo what it all means." The first tidings Mr Helston senior had hoard of Matthew's disappearance had, it seemed, been derived from the publica tion of the reward, siuce he had just returned from America, whither he had bscn on important business. If it was not his habit to listen to other people at dinner, that did not prevent his talking himself, and before the meal was over he had put his companions in full possession of the reasons for his presence iv Cavendish Grove.

After Matthew's departure from Latbury ho had missed him much, and would gladly havo held out the hand of reconciliation. He seemed to have expected that the young fellow would have made the first advance; but, as ho did not do so, pride stepped iv and moved him to send for a far away coiuin of about the same age as Matthew to fill his place in the office. This youngster, as he had previously satisfied himself, had one good point—he had not the slightest lean ing towards the mechanical arts. But with this negative virtue his merits appeared to have ended. No Madge had any metal to attract him, but on the other hand he bad been very impressionable to the charms of Moll and Bet. His behaviour, indeed, had scandalised the old lawyer not a little. " Wow, Matthew," said the old man (as though poor Amy had been a lay figure), had only made a fool of himself with gals on two occasions; the first was a mere ileeting faucy Eh ?" For Uncle Stephen, whose thoughts had flashed to Bleak-street and Lucy Mor flock, here groaned involuntarily. "Oh, there was nothing wrong, sir," con tinued Mr Helston with irritation, imagin ing that he had been called to order ou tbe ground of propriety; " moreover, tbe young woman most fortunately ran off With somebody else. The other affair was more serious. Miss Thurlow's presence, of which you are so good as to remind me, frevents my speakiug upon that subject, still think Matthews marriage was a mistake, but I have forgiven it. Well, as I say, he made but two escapades among the petticoats—which is much below the average. Then Richard (hia succesior) was a bom fool besides—the very last thing (not even excepting a knave) which is wanting in a lawyer's office. To "ive you an extreme instance of it, it was ho liimself who on the very day of my return to Latbury pointed out to me the reward in the newspaper, thinking doubtless to curry favour with me, or that it would givo mo pleasure to hear that poor Matthew was in trouble. ' Thank you, Dick,' I said, ' for opening my eyes.' ' That Mr Matthew must be bad indeed,' he simpered. 'You're a liar,' I answered. ' What I thanked yon for was for letting me see into your character, That you were an idiot of course I knew, but I did not know you wero a scoundrel." And I sent him packing. If Matthew chooses to come back to Latbury and be my partner the place is open to him." " Alas, sir, you forget that your nephw is lost to us," sobbed Amy. Sho admired this old fellow for his sure and simple faith, and gave more credit to his honest indigna tion thin perhaps it dcseived. If Matthew had not borne his name it is possible that the ties of blood would not so easily havo moved him. As it was, his nephew's dis grace cast a shadow on himself, which his proud nature resented. As for Uncle Stephen he felt that two minutes' private talk with the old lawyer must of necessity scatter his confidence in his nephew's inno cence to the winds, and in all probability his goodwill with it. , "Lost!' echoed Mr Helston contemp tuously. "He won't be lost for long now that I have come to look for him. What's the matter?"

The maid had entered and whispered to Amy that there was someone in the hall who wished to speak to her "very pettickler. And, oh! please, miss, it's a perliceraan." Poor Amy's nerves for once failed her, but not her faith. She believed that spme crisis had occurred in Matthew's case, or that Lady Pargiter had taken some cruel atop. Tfnr tbo mom on t. rli» wiuM neither move nor speak. "What's the matter?" repeated Mr Hel ston, addressing the maid. " Oh, sir, there's a pcrliccman in the pas-

sago." " What of that ? One wotdd think it was a burglar." He stepped nimbly to the door, whore, indeed, one of the force was standing in the attitude of attention.

" Now, my man, what is it I" " I have a message for Miss Amy Thur low, sir, from Inspector Brail,"

" Very good; here she is. Let's haye

" Mr Matthew Helston has been found, mum."

" God in heaven be thanked ?" she cried, 11 Alive and well?"

"Oh, yes, alive, mum; but to not say well and hearty. I have been sent on hhead in a hansom cab to say as ho will be here in half an hour. They're obliged to bring him pretty slow, fle'll have to be put to bed and looked to." "Port—a glass of port for the young lady," cried Mr Helston vehemently. "That's right. You're better now, ain't you? You won't go into hysterics, not you; you're not a fool, like Cousin Richard."

His rough but kindly tones had the best effect upon the poor girl. Mere sympathy and tenderness would have destroyed her self-possession uttdly. "He is not ill—l mean not dangerously ill ?" she murmured.

" No, mum ; only a bit weak aud off his head, having had nothing to eat f«r tho last eight-and-forty hours." " Nothing to eat on Christ-mas day 1" exclaimed the old lawyer. "What can it all mean?"

Amy had flown upstairs to her sister, so that his enquiry was addressed to Mr Dur ham. Uncle Stephen, however, only shook his head and murmnred, "I know nothing." The question that trembled on his own lips was, "Is he innocent ?" Bat they could not frame it.

There was a sharp knock at the front door; a sound of slithering footsteps as of men carrying some heavy body, Bnt Uncle Stephen knew nothing of it. With a mut tered cry of "Matthew ! Matthew I" which seamed to weU from his very heart, the old man had fainted away.

CHAPTER L FOUND.

Are men better than they seem,or worse ? is a question that we are apt to answer ac cording to our own circumstances in rela tion to them. When Fortune smiles upon us our fellow-creatures appears in rose tints. " There is a deal of kindness in the world," wc observe, when we don't want it; or, at the least, " Depend upon it there is something good in everybody." When For tune frowns we alter our opinion on this subject—it must be confessednot altogether without reason. On the whole it seems doubtful whether one is more often sur prised by an act of generosity, or by one of baseness. I have known quite noble things done by almost the last persons in the world one would have thought capable of them; and also, alas! some very base actions performed by the most highly principled persons. In many cases,perhaps, it has in reality been the merest toss-up whether the man should behave like a hero or a scoundrel; but we, who know nothing of the inward struggle, can only judge by the result. Although Mr Signet had not absolutely told Miss Amy Tnurlow that if she would marry him he would not prose cute her brother-in-law for theft, but that if she wouldn't he would pursue him with the utmost rigour of the law,their last interview had certainly left upon her an impression of that nature; Perhaps the jeweller had not been unwilling that she should think the worst—even though it must needs put his own character in no very agreeable light but though he had, as it were, beld the screw in his fingers, he had had, to do him justice, no intention of putting it on. His nature was not chivalric, but he was not a Colonel Kirk; and before he had proposed that bargain to Amy, let us remember, he had positively forbidden Mr Brail to take any steps towards Matthew's apprehension. When he returned an unsuccessful suitor from Cavendish Grove, the detective in formed him of Mr Barlow's visit, and not only very frankly set before him all that that gentleman had stated, but also (for which, us wo know, he had his private rea sons) said aU that could be said in favour ot his mission.

"He is not gone to Paris—on your be half—of course not—but the main object of his journey is to reclaim the diamonds;

and, considering his connection with Hel ston, he has as good a chance " "It's all nonsense," interrupted Mr Sig net irritably. " The game's up. If Lady Pargiter were not such a brute I'd throw up the sponge and pay up at once,'' " That would be madness indeed, Mr Sig net. Where's her receipt ?" " What the deuce does the receipt signify, Mr Brail, if she can prove the diamonds to be in Helston's possession ? Not that they are there now, of course. He sold 'em for what they will fetch. My money is as good as gone." " If I felt sure of that I'd get it out of his skin."

" I don't want his skin,' snapped Mr Sig net. "They may all be hanged together for what I care."

He tixed even a stronger word than "hanged" : while the comprehensiveness of his " all—" though, fortunately, Mr Brail did not know whom it included—was appalling. The most that the detective could extract from his employer was a promise that he would make no overtures to Lady Pargiter without previously com municating with him. On the sccoud morning came Mr Barlow's letter from Paris, the contents of which re vived Mr Brail amazingly. They pointed to nothing certain, it is true, but they roused his flagging interest in the case, just as the whimper of a trusty hound will put heart in the desponding sportsman : they might not kill the fox, but there was an end to ' drawing blank,' at all events. The diamonds were in Paris, at present undis posed of, and every day would render their negotiation more dangerous. Surely Mr Signet would now entrust him with the commission of gaining possession of them ? There would be a difficulty, unless they could be absolutely identified, in getting a warrant for the apprehension of this man Butt, but that could be surmounted. The inexplicable objection that his employer had evinced to the arrest of Holston no longer applied to the case—for Helston had not got the diamonds, though he had doubt less been their original appropriator. Above nil. the diocovcry of t.lin womnn gave Mr Brail great hopes. With Mr Barlow's letter in his hand he was about to start from his chambers—he occupied a second floor in tho lane at the back of the Temple-for Pnulot Street, when a telegram was put into his hand. It detailed as succinctly as could bo all that had happened at the Hotel de la Fontaino ou the previous night, with a verbatim copy of tbe note found in the bosom of the murdered girl. Mr Brail s first act on the receipt of_ this astonishing intelligence was characteristic. He telegraphed to a French commissioner of police with whom lie was acquainted, that tho jewels in possession of the assassin wero in all probability the Pargiter diamonds, nnd laid claim to them in the name of their owner, pending further and authoritative proceedings. Then ho began to give his attention to the mere matters of life and death. What engaged his deepestattcntion was, of course, the last message of tho murdered girl : "M. H. is still in N-teor—-No starving, For God's haste,"

Some of tho blanks he could easily fill in. "Matthew Helston is still in Moor Street, No. He is starviug. For God's sake make haste," was what ho made out the message to be. Bnt what did that "No," mean? If she had found her information as to his whereabouts incorrect that was surely-' making every allowance for hnsie and fear—not the way in which she would have expressedhetselt. That "No," therefore, doubtless stood for Number ; and the mis sing figures were 10 : _So. 10 Moor Street being Lady Pargitcr's address. If Mr Sig net had been present ho would havo ex claimed, "Then Helston is thoro after nil. I always said that woman was capable of anything!" But Mr Brail jumped to no such conclusion. Ho touched a handbell, and a sharp-looking Hebrew youth was by his side in an instant.

"Has Brown mado his report this morning?" "Yes, sir."

"Where is he?"

" Gone home to bed. He lodges in Mil ford Lane."

" That is but a stone's throw. Bring him In ten minutes, and I'll givo you half a crown ; if you do it in less time, I'll give you ten shillings." We talk of tho marvels of olectricity, but the attraction of metals for a Jew-boy puts lightning into the shade. In seven minutes Brown was in tho room, dis hevelled, panting, and in hia shirtsleeves, but still Brown.

" You havo been on duty in Moor Street every night since this diamond robbery. Aro there any houses in it let in lodgings ?" " Well, there arc hotels, sir." "Will you answer my question? " "There are no lodging-houses: it is too fine a place," " And all tho houses are occunicd ?"

" Yes, sir. That is, all the* furnished houses. Thero is one, however, un furnished."

"What number ?"

"Number 11, sir."

Mr Brail gave it sudden start; then scratched his leg, as if a Ilea had bitten him.

"Does anyone ever enter it?" he In quired in an indifferent tone. "Only the caretaker, sir-a shabby, shambling sort of fellow. I've seen him let hissclf in with a latch-key."

"Often?" " Well, yes, sir; every night mostly," " Last night ? " "Well, no, sir; not last night," ••The night before?" " Well, no, sir. Now yon tpcak of it, I have not noticed him the last night or two." "There's a biU in the window, I sup pose?" " No, sir, there's no bill: the house is let. They were saying so at the public house."

" What did they say ? " "Carberry's man, the houso agents iv Bond Street—he was taking a dram the other night—said they had let it a month ago to somo gentlemen, but thoy had not seen the colour of his money. I think there's some hitch about it."

"Perhaps so. That will do. You may go to bed again. Noah, caU a growler." " Don't you mean a hansom, sir ? " " I think I said a growler. That boy is getting to think for himself," muttered Mr Brail, " which will be his ruin,"

In two minutes the detective was being driven at a_ rapid rate to Bond Street, in company with two members of the force whom he had picked up from a police station on his way. It being Christmas day the streets were comparatively clear; so that Mr Brail's suggestion to the driver to "look alive " could be carried out; but the same circumstance might have proved an obstacle to the detective's wish for speed, if his own character had been less determined. At Carberry's there was only one clerk on the premises, and, as he briefly but distinctly informed his visitor, he was not there to do business with anyone on Christmas-day. "So you'll just have to wait for tho key of No. 11 Moor Street till to-morrow morning," was his peroration. "Very good : it was in mero civility to Carberry that I asked the favour," returned Mr Brail. "It will not take us five minutes to break the door open. Perhaps your employers would prefer that course. lam a detective policeman. Good morn ing."

He not only got the house-key on the instant, but a little oil to make it turn softly in the lock ; and on they drove. Moor Street was as silent and dull as usual, and even a trifle duller. Its tenants were mostly in the country, keeping Christ mas, or rather having it kept for them; but No, 11 was by far the dreariest house in the street. It had been empty only a month or two, but signs of neglect, though not of decay, had become already manifest. The shattered windows were black with du3t, and in a less fashionable neighbour hood (where street-boys arc allowed) would undoubtedly have been broken. Under the sheltering porch the accumulated mud looked filthier by contrast with the sur rounding snow.

Mr Brail got out first and opened the door; ono policeman swiftly foUowed him, and the other remained in the cab, with his eys on the area steps. If he had been seen outside, and on the watch, there would have been a ten-deep semicircle of specta tors round him in as many seconds.

Within No. 11 all was not so neglected as*without. Much to their astonishment the hall was furnished in the ordinary manner, but it struck damp and cold, and, quietly as the two men closed the door be hind them, the sound reverberated through the house. With one hasty glance around him Mr Brail led the way upstairs, explor ing room after room, while nis companion remained on the landing, lest a rabbit should bolt by some second hole. If thej spoke to one another it was in whispers, and when they replied it was in mono, syllables, or more often by a mere gesture. There was not a living thing to be seen except the spiders; nor was there an article of furniture save, as we have satd, in the hall, in the drawing-room, the faded

splendour of the ceilings and tho carved marble of the mantelpieces, rendered Hie surrounding barrenness still more marked. Returning to the hall floor, they still found no traces of recent tenancy, they ex plored the kitchen and ollicca with the same result. The caretaker, as Mr Brown had called him, had cither only visited his charge accasionally, or was a man strangely iudiflerent, for one of his calling, to his' personal comfort. " There is not a soul in the place ?" ob served the policeman, speaking above his breath for the first time.

"I am sure I don't know," returned Mr Brail coolly. "We have not tried the cellar."

The door, which was next the pantry, and in the eeutro of tho house, as cellar doors should be, was locked, Mr Brail stooped down and examined the jambs and the keyhole. "This has been opened re cently!" he observed coolly. " Light yonr lantern and keep your stall'handy. Now give me the jemmy." In two minutes, by aid af this ingenious instrument, the door was forced open, and discovered a flight of steps leading into darkness. The atmosphere was close and, by comparison with that of the outer air, even warm. They descended the steps, and presently the policeman's bullseye Slashed upon a human ligure lying on a mattress and wrapped iv a railway-rug. His face was white and wan, anil his eyes gazed vucantly upon the light and them. "I thought so!" exclaimed Mr Brail, allowing himself a momentary gratification at the confirmation of his own astutenesi, •' It is the very man." "The Butterfly Wing will do it," mur mured the prostrate figure. "The mistake was in the head of the Nut."

"The gent is drunk," observed the policeman, with :i shake of the head that suggested something more than reprobation —a pathetic regret that tho circumstances did not permit of the others being taken into custody—"run in." "Go to l)r Creyke, you fool; ho lives at No. G in tho noxt street; bring him here immediately," oiled Mr Brail with a con tempt that bordered on savagery. Then he knelt down tenderly enough by the side of the mattress, and, pulling a Husk from his pocket, applied it to Matthew's lips. "You shall have soup at Carherry's, my. poor fellow, if I make it out of that younj.) man's liver," ho murmured consolingly " and then you shall be took home."

(To be continued)

Some Pleasant Trerits in the Character of Longfellow.

LONaFELLOW liked to talk of young poets, aud ho had an equally humorous and kind way of noticing the foibles of tho literary character. Standing in tho porch ono summer day, and observing tho noble elms in front of his house, he re called a visit made to him loDg before by one cf the many hards now extinct, who aro embalmed in Griswold, Then suddenly assuming a burly, martial air, he seemed to reproduce for me tha exact iigurc and manner of the youthful enthusiast, who had tos .od back his long hair, gazed approvingly on tho elms, and in a deep voice exclaimed, "I aeo, Mr Long fellow, that you have many trees-I love trees 1" "It was," said tho poet, "as if he (.ave a certificate to all the neighbouring vogetation," A few words like these, said in Longfellow's peculiar, dry, humorous manner, with just a twinkle of the eye and a quietly droll inflection of tho voice, had a certain charm of mirth that cannot be de scribed. It was the same demure playful ness which led him, when waiting, to speak of the lady who wore flowers •• on the congregation side of her bonnet," or to extol those broad, magnificent Western roads, which "dwindle to a squirrel track and run up a tree." He had no particle of the acidity of sparkling and biting wit, but he had abundant,plajf ul humour, that was full of kindness, and that toyed good natnrcdly with all tho trifles of life. That such a senso of fan should be amused by the ludicrous peculiarities of a juve nile bard was inevitable. He had him self pasted through the grotesque and singular period. ' * ' His sense of humour found especial pleasure in the inap propriate worils that woro sometimes said to him by persons whose design it was to be complimentary, and ha weuld relate, witb a keen relish of thoir pleasantry, anecdotes against himself to illustrate this form of social blunder, Years ago he told mo, at Cambridge, . about tho strange gentleman who was led up to him and introduced at Newport, and who straightway said with enthusiastic fervour, "Mr Longfellow, I have long desired the hononr of knowing yon ! Sir, I am one of the few men who have read your ' Evangeline.'" This anecdote, in recent days, he coupled with another about an English lady who, on being introduced, exclaimed: "Why, Mr Longfellow, I thought you were dead 1" "No, madam, you see 1 take the liberty of living." " Yes —but I thought at least you belonged to Washington's time." Another of his favourites was related to me a day or two after it occurred. The poet's rule was to reserve the morning for work, and visitors were not received .before 12 o'clook noon. One morning a man forced his way past the servant who bad opened the ball door, and burst in upon tbe presence of tbe astonished author in his library ; and there upon enßiied this remarkable conversation: " Mr Longfellow, you're a poet, I believe," "Well, sir, some persons have said so.' " All right, Mr Longfellow ! Poet it is 1 Now, I've called here to see if I couldn't git you to write somo poetry for me to have printed and stuck onto my medicine bottles. You see, 1 go 'round sellin' this medicine, and, if you'll do it, it'll help immensely; and I'll just tell you right now, if you give me the poetry I'll give you a bottle of the carminative—and it's Idol, a bottle." For the full enjoyment of this story it was needful to see the poet's face and hear the delicious, bland tone of voice in which ho added, " The idea of its being a carminative, of all things." More than twenty-four years ago he told me that incident-sitting by tbe wide iireplacoin the library back of his study. As I write his words now the wind seems again to be moaning iv the chimney, and the firelight flickers upon his pale, handsome, happy face and already silvered hair. He took such delight in any bit of quiet fun like that! He was so gracious, so kind, so wish ful to make every one happy that come near him ! And now he is gone forever !

A Georgia Hawk Catches'.

Mrs. James Noell within tbe last year has caught between sixty and seventy hawks. The process is her own invention. She makes a circular cage of old iron, places a few young chickens in it, attaches a steel trap well baited on the top of the cage, and awaits results. The hawk comes to the noise of the little chickens, and in attempt ing to get at them alights on the trap, when his liberty is immediately seized upon by the merciless jaws of steel. It is sure pop every time. Mrs Henry Lnmsden has re cently caught six hawks in the same way. —Talbotton Eegisier,

Franz Liszt.

The grand piano was open behind him, but we wero not to hear it; ho seldom touched ft now, although last year he played a good deal of Chopin to me at the Villa D'Este. I told himj of the piano recital mania in Loudon last season; ho said of Kubcnstcin : "He is tho king of all pianists now before the public, ho must carryall before him;" and of Sophie Mentor, whom he bad specially charged me to hear: " No woman can touch her—in every stylo she hi superb." He said he was at work upon orchestral composition, wlrich ho inti uiatcd the public did not always care about: and I spoke oi our painter Watts, who often declares that his lavountc conceptions are those the 1 u jst understood by tlio public. "Ah !" said Liszt; " but hereisauartißt," turning to a stranger present, who paints for the public, and is appreciated''it was his graceful way of turniug the talk of him self 1 and then he wetit on to speak of that eccentric Belgian artist, Wirtz, whom he had known. The Wirtz gallery at Brussels is very famous now, though Liszt seemed to fancy Wirtz was still little known. " His creations were strange and fantastic, he was voted mad, and tho critics abused and laughed at him. I remember ho had a great studio, and atone end a kind of pul pit ; he used to get up ia it and preach against the critics and society, and doclaim about all sorts of things." Liszt told a good anecdote about him "He used to send these odd pictures to tho Salon year after year, which were always icturned; tho judges would have nothing to say to him, Well, he happened to havo become pos sessed of a veritable Rubens, and the ;_nali cious idea occurred to him to put his own name to it and send it up to tho Salon. The judges, taking it fer more Wirtz rub bish, scat it back. Poor Wirty, you cau imagine that he went up in his pulpit next time with a good text 1" I said to him later: "So you will not come to England?"

"I have travelled so much: I have gone about tho world till lam tired. I change residenco as it is three times ayoar—Pcsth, Wehnar, Koine, and if I went about ,moro I could not get through the work which I have set myself to do. The first tirno I was in England I was taken there by Count Esterhazy : you know he was a great friend of George IV ; he took me down to Wind sor. I saw George IV there—it was in 1824-and I played to him ; I was about 12 years old. I remember the King; ho was a fine pompous sort of person." " You were at Antwerp lust year; wo all thought you might have como across. " "(I was present," ho replied, " but 1 shall never go across again."

An American lady here said to Liszt the other day, without, much discretion or tact, "Ah, Abbate, if yon would only come to America you would make a largo fortune?" forgetting that Liszt has made and spent Immense fortunos, and|has left quite as much as he wants.

"Madame," replied the groat virtuoso, with that exquisite touch of courteous but satirical humor of which ho is a master, "if you stood in need of that largo fortune, be lieve me I would go," i We spoke of Waj>ner, and I noticed how he had infected the most opposite schools, how oven Verdi had drunk deop, many por tions of "Aida" being quite Wagneresque, "Yes, ho is well in the air now ; every thing breathes him at last."

"And the ' Parcival,' " I said, "is that new drama really coming off?'' "Surely, next year in July, at Baircutlu We shall have all the world there."

" All the Wagnerites," I said. " No, no, all sorts ; it is the fashion, you see ; tous Us badauds sen melent ;" which might be rendered in elegant American, "every cockney is just on him." I understood that the *bbate would retire early, and wo took our leave. I can sec his noble figure now, dressed in a long black priest's gown; as he rose with us, took a candle and came out into the passage, the light fell flickenngly upon those welbknown and majestic features; the thick white hair seemed to crown him, falling straight on either sido to his shoulders; ho looked like an old world figure carved by Michael An gelo, and standing in a niche apart, always the same strange genial striking combina tion which has captivated society through out Europe nnd been the wonder of the musical world for fifty yeats, always uncon sciously scenic, statuesque and withal superbly human—such will long linger in my memory the Abhate Franz Liszt at Romo in 1881.—if. 11, Haxoeis in Bclgravia.

Pins in the Brain.

There are some strange brains in America, and if the " New York Tribune's" account of what happened to one Lewis E. Avery, a farmer, living at Gilman's Depot, Sullivan County, be correct, that young gentleman —ho was only eighteen—musthavopossessod one of them. It would appear that as long ago as last Septomber he was playing with a gun, when it burst and lodged the breech pin in his skull, over the right eyo. The wound healed, and he seemed as " well as ever " toi a time, going about and transacting his business as usual, and even impressing his friends with the clearness of his intellect, until just lately, when he was taken ill and died. It was then found, on ex amination, that he had carried for six months, in the centre of his brain, an iron pin, four and a half inches long and half an inch in diameter, without any discomfort. A brain that could achieve such a wonder as this must have been capable of better things, and it would seem to be a pity that Lewis JE. Avery did not live longer. Many a man's braiu has been " turned," erenow, by a piece of good or ill foitune, a mere rise or a depression in circumstances, and even a little applause. But one that could bear the weight and disturbing influence of some ounces of cold iron without experien cing any ill effects for several months wab worth preserving.

Indian Wives.

AMONG the Noithwestern ttibes of In dians, innocence ia as marked among the girls as their colour. The impression that the red maiden does not entertain a high standard of morality is an error, for she is taught as other girls arc, and grows up with well-developed ideas of the responsibilities of life and a firm resolution to discharge thorn. Educated in the faith that she was ordained to work, slio trains herself to undergo hard labour, and at 16 years of age, is sturdy and strong,^brave against fatigue and a perfect housewife. She may not possess Now England no : tions of cleanliness, but she takes not a little pride in her personal appearance; and iv tho arrangement of her lodge she displays somo crude ideas of taste and a certain amount of neatness.'" If she mar ries a white manf she makes Mm a- good wife as long as she lives with him. His home is her sole comfort, and his comfort her solo ambition. She thinks of him and for him, and makes it her study to plea«e him nnd make him respect and love her. She recognises in him one of a superior raco, and by her dignity and devotion en dears herself to him and struggles to make him happy. At the agencies of the upper frontier thousands of men are employed and it is not au exaggeration to say that the majo rity of them have Indian wives and live happily. They are not sought after by tho maidens, for the Indian girl's custom is to remain quiet until the marriage con tract is made and the marriage portion paid over. The husband must have the dowry, with which he must invest his pro jected mother-in law before the ceremony takos place. The process .3 k little out of tho usual run, and a description may hoof; interest. ''"' '" '' r) j The aspiring bridegroom must be well known in the tribe before he can hope to win a wife. Her people want to thoroughly understand him and know if he can sup-; port not only her, hut also licr relatives at a pinch. Ho must bo a kind-hearted man, with n temper warranted to keep in any' domestic climate, and he must have a; good lodgo and at least half a. dozen' horses. It he bo and have all.these, he; can a-wooing go.. Selecting the lady, lie, makes application to Jier mother, and'at a council the price is fiaied upon. : '"' If the girl is ' especially pretty, her, mother will demand a gun, two horses! and a lot of provisions, blankets and cloth. A gun is valued at $50, a horse at $20, and he must furnish material to bring the amount up to frosn' §100 to $150. Then; he tries to beat the dame down, and if he succeeds he knows there is sefhie reason for' letting tho girl go; if not, he understands; that he is making ago od choice. The court-; ship is left entirely to the mother.—Ameri can Paper. ~ ," !

Escape of Desperadoes.

CHLOROFORMING GOAL ©FFCIALS,

Keokuk, May I.— Polk Wells, the train j robber, escaped from the penitentiary this morning, with two accomplices named! Fite«. gcrald and Cook, by chloroforming their attendant in tho Hospital, breaking through the iron roof and overpowering the Hospital guard. John Elder, one of the latter, has died from the effects of his injuries and the chloroform. A pursuit has been organised. The " Constitution's " specials from Fort Madison recite the details of the escape. They say that at 2.30 o'clock this morning a noise was heard at the penitentary by Ed. Hoffman, a guard iv the cellroom. Ho immediately opened tho door leading to the Hospital, when he was grabbed by Well's, a convict, aud held by the villain, who exclaimed : "Come and cmt his throat," but the other convicts, who were making a hole through the roof, told Hoffman to stand still and keep quiet, and he should not be hurt. Near by lay Mr Elder, a guard whom they had succeeded in killing. A waiter by_ the name of Cook had a bottle containing wine, he said, and $ot Mr Elder to take a drink. Aft,er dmnking Elder complained of tho wine being strong and took a drink of \yater. He soon: fell to the floor. Wells and Fitzgerald, icon victs applied chloroform to his nostrils and kept it there until thoir escape, at .2.20 o'clock a.m. One convict claimed thijt this all took place at 9 ojclock last night, aud that this performance was kept up until the abovo named "tuuio.qf escape. The names of the escaped'convicts are Fitzgerald, Cook and the notorious, Polk Wels. Officers are jri, ipiirauit. ..Reports are in that two of tho convicts are surroun. ded about four miles fxpsa town in ,a bara on a farm'of Mr.Wintbrbotham.'." "... . i

A later dispatch, says,', The barn was takon by storm and only one prisoner was in it. He was captured. His name is Fitz; gerald. The others are supposed to bo in tho woods near by.

j " Oh, mon papa," replied MJollie, "ilne faut pas dire dcs chdses comme ca." " Well, I didu't," said Mr J.. " say your clothes were dear. But what in thunder are you talking about?" Can't you talk American ?'' " Oh, non, papa, je comprend cette langue laide, mais jenolaparlc plus." "What in thunder," cried Mr J., "do you mean, Mollie, by a long-laid parlplu on prongs? Here I've come all tho way to Ogden with two new silk dresses for you, bought in San Francisco, and you. can't say thank you for 'cm, I suppose, c xcept in some infer nal foreign gibberish." " Youdear, darling old duck," replied Mollae, " you can just bet I don't talk no moro Paree till them dresses i»wore oat,'" and the angel hugged the old man. all the v -ay home until she got her dissses, and then she remarked : "Ob, France 1 jpvous adoT c! ma belle France !" —"Sao FranciscoNfews Letter.".

Handling a Tennessee Crowd.

A Michigan man'who has a patent wind mill went down to Tennessee last fall to see what he could do among the farmers of that State. Reaching a town in the central part of that State, he went to'a dealer in agricul tural implements and stated his desire to erect bis machine and call attentiou to it, i " Well, it can be done, Iguessj" was the reply. . . ~' .. ii. {]'_, " But how had I best proceed ?' ~ :<; " Well, you kin put her up over on the hill thar. I done know who owns! thb ground, butif you treat.'the crowd I guess no ono will object." ,'"' ' ' ;■" "Very well." "Next Tuesday is market day, and there'l 1 ba heaps of folks in town. ' You want to be around early and treat the crovfd." " Yes." " " • '.'.,'.', "Set the old thing going and aik the boys over to drink something.' "Just so."

" You want to stand on a bar'l and make some explanations, of course, for it will be new to most of 'em. But don't talk top long. Make it about ten minutes and, then treat the crowd."

"Yes." " :;;„ ■,;' ',',' "If you have to talk any more, tell 'em there's another drink ahead."

" (see."

" If the old man Jones comes in with his boys there'Ubearowiri.th'e cri>w<L They shoot on sight. Keep your eye peeled, and if you see any signs of a row ask the whole crowd out to drink."

" Ye«, but-—'' "Look out for dog fights. If one take place you can't hold the boys a minute. Keep your eye on the, canines. ~Hyou Sco a yaller purp begin,.to bristle'up aak the crowd'to step over and moislcri.' , „,.; ." Yes, but by that time the whole crowd will be drunk," protested the agent, . " Sartin it; will, 'arid that's what yoii want of coufte.' That will give you a chance to skip out and take your life. alqngwith you, and if you make a stop any where with in a hundred miles I'll send the'windmill by fribght—provided third is anything to send ! Nothing like knowing how to han dle a Tennessee crowd, my friend. Did you ask me out to take sunthin'?"—" De troit Free Press."

Soap-Bubble Parties.

A mono the newest fandies ia fashionable society_ are " soap-bubble parties.'' They began in New Yorkj and, of 'course, says a Washington correspondent, fouudready imi tators at the capital. LikecommOnparties and gertnanfc, they afford an opportunity for the distribution of gifts, which, unless con ducted'with great delicacy arid good taste, quickly degenerate into vulgar ostentation of wealth. ' Ata'recerit event of this pecu liar kind the climax of the evening, wall reached before 11 o'clock, when a large china punbhbowl filled with soapsuds win plac.d upon'the centre-table of tho rear parlour the cafpots having Been prudently Screened witblinen.bsten.ibly forgreater eojiyenierioe in,dancing.' "Long nine "'eighteen clay pipes wero produced, arid all tried id see who could b]ow the biggeit bubble.' T hr^e trials Were granted each person, but all whose bubbles1 burst were compelled to desist! There were'five judgei to estimate'the'size of the'babbles, arid to aNvard the prizes] which were old Knickerbockerpipes) plaques and other dainty souvenirs, to the successful 'blower*." 'J he fun was immense as ro»y lips and perfumed rau.taches tried their akdl upon the "long nines." The ex'chuiye's"of upper-tendon., to whom ho diversion is id good style unlessnewly'discover'ed by them selves, have dropped lawn tennis as alto, "ether "too common," and slyOn it''the go by with croquet arid other gatnes in which' the "herd" indulge. Badminton is how the correct thing for Id creme'de la'creme, as| it is comparatively new in this country. It isplajedwith battledore arid shuttlecock, over a net arranged as iri laWri tennis. It is rather more of a ladies' game than tennis proper, as it makes less demand upon the muscles, but depends chiefly upon the agility; of the players. The coaching and polo cliques are unanimous'in adopting the new game. '•'

A Terrible Slavery.

Strange and sometimes, fearful glimpses of Chinese manners and customs are often given in the " Pekin Gazette." Ina recent issue, the Throne is memorialised by a censor on.tho subject of the,pitiable con ditional the slaves employed in certain coal miDoa'situate In., Hunan..' ,yh'e memorial states that the slaves in question ate ob tained from two sources-they, are either desperate vagrants, driven byjtho prospect of starvation to sell themselves, xt^, uttqr ignorance of the terriblo f ate which awaits them ; or, they are men who have been se duced into gambling dens, and having be come hopelessly involved!there, ha;, o o,oßl} forced tosellthemselvcs.to pay their losings. .As the deep parts,of ..tljq mines are con stantly flooded, the slaves aro'divided into two gang*, one oil duty jiy ,day and the other at night; and the task set them is to bo continually standing in the water and baling it out. Froni this occupation they are vulgarly known as " water frogs," while their keepers have earned the well-merited designation of " living kings of hell,", for their ferocity and savage treatment of the prisoners. These latter, half-naked and badly fed, when temporarily released from work, huddle round a stove for warmth and rest; but so transformed, are they in habits and appearance, that they can scarcely be recognised as human beings. Once immured in the mines all hope of getting away is put aside, and the lifelong servitude is often ended by a'death brought on by the cruel treatment of their masters. No story of the Siberian mines over painted a more dismal scene of hopeless_ misery than these simple details ; and still more sad is it that tho effort to save the unfortu nates may begin and end with this me morial. . d:it) - :'i/ J'lt. .

CHILDREN'S COLUMN.

Cornwalis'a Buclcles,

By A. J. C.

(From St, Nicholas.) lAM not quite sure of (dates, but it" was late,in.the. fall, I. think, of 1777, that a foraging party from the British camp in Philadelphia made a descent upon the fatrhof Major Rudolph, south of that city, at Darby. Having suppllied themselves well with provender, they were about to begin their return march, when one of the soldiers happened to espy a valuable cow, which at that moment unfortunately made her appearance in the lane leading to the barnyard ; and poor Sukey was immedi ately confiscated for the use of the com pany. Mow, this unfortunate cow happened to be the pride of the farm, and was claimed as the exclusive property of Miss Anne Rudolph—the daughter of the house—aged twelve years. Of course, no other animal on the estate was so important as this par ticularcow, and her confiscation by the soldiers could not be tolerated for a mo ment. So, MLss Anne made an impetuous dash for her recovery, but finding the men deaf to her entreaties and the sergeant proof against the storms other indignation, the high-spirited child rushed over the stables, saddled her pony, and was soon galloping'oft^towardsjthe city, determined to anneal to the Commander-in-Chief of the British army, if nothing less would save the life of her favourite.

Meanwhile, poor Sukey trudged along, her reluctant steps quickened now and then by a gentle prick with the point of a bayonet in ber well-rounded side. To reach the city before the foraging party was the one thought of the child as her pony went pounding along the old Chester road at a pace that soon brought her within the British lines. She wag

halted at the; first outpost by the guard, and ihe occasion of her hot haste was demanded. The child replied—

"I must see the general immediately I" "But the General cannot be disturbed for every trifle. Tell me your business, and if important, it will be reported to him !"

"It is of great importance, and I cannot stop to talk to you. Please let go my pony, and teU me where to find the General 1" "But, my little girl, I cannot let you paBS until you'tell me whence you come, and what your business is within these lines.." ' ■

" I come from Darby, and my business is to see the General immediately ! No one else can tell him what I have tosay !" ' The excitement Of the child, together ■with her persistence, had its influence upon the officer.. General_ Washington was in the neighbourhood with his ragged regiments, patiently patching his oppor tunity to strike another blow for the liberty of the colonies. The officer well knew that valuable information of the movements of the rebels frequently reached the British commander through families residing in the country, and still, in secret, friendly to the Crown. Here might be such a case, and this consideration determined the sol dier to send the child forward to head quarters. So, summoning an orderly, he directed him to escortjher to the General. It was late in the afternoon by this time, and Cornwalis was at dinner with a num. her of British officers, when " A little pirl from the country with a message for the General* "Vai. announced.

" Let her come in at once," said the General; and a fear minutes later Miss Anne Rudolph entered the great tent. ; .;: For a moment the girl i hesitated, over, come, perhaps, by the unexpected brilliancy of the scene; Then the spirit of her "Red wolf" ancestors asserted itself, and to her, Cornwalis,, in full, dinner costume, sur rounded by bis brilliant companions, repre sented only, the .power that could saye her favourite from the butcher's knife.

l' WeU, my little girl; lam General Con walks,"-.said, the gentleman kindly, " What have yott to say to me ." ■'- " I want my cow I"

Profound silence reigned for a moment, then! came i ss. simultaneous burst lOf I up roarious laughter, from all the gentlemen around the table. :The girl's face reddened, bnt she held her ground, and her set fea tures and flashing eyes convinced the Gene ral that the child before him was one of no ordinary spirit. Aif few words of encouragement, plea santly spoken, quickly restored the equa nimity of the girl, Then, with ready tact, the, General soon drew from her a concise narration of her grievance.

"Why did not your father attend to this for you!'' " My father is notat home, now." " And have you no brothers for such an errand, instead of coming yourself into a British camp?", "Both of my brothers are away. But, General Cornwallis," cried she impatiently, •' while you keep me here talking they will kill my cow!" "So—your brothers alfo are away from home.. -Now, teU me,.child, where can they be found ?"

"My oldest- btotheV Captain John Rudolph, is with General Gates." JL "And your other brother, where is he?" "Captain Michaelßudolphis with Harry Lee." ■ The girl's eyes fairly blazed as she spoke the name of the gallant " Lighthorse Harry Lee." Then she exclaimed—" But, General, my cow !" •> "Ah, ha ! one brother with Gates and one with Lee. Now," said the General severely, "where isyour .father?" , "He was with' General Washihgtod," frankly answered the little maiden ; '\but he is,a prisoner now." , ..; "So, so. Father and brothers all iv the Continental army 1 I think, then, you mhst be a little rebel." ,';;',* "Yes, Sir, if you please—l am a little rebel. But I want my cow," .. i,i. "Well, you area braVe, straightforward little girl, and you shall have your cow and something more, too." .Then, stooping, for ward,'he detached from his garters a pair of brilliarit kneebuckles,' which he laid In

the child's hands. " Take these, he said, " and keep them as a souvenir of this inter view,'and bekevo that Lord Cornwalis can 'iitiiireciate courage and truth, eyen'ih a little rebel, Then, calling an orderly; 'he instructed him to go with the child through the camp in search of'the, coW, and, when he should find the animal, to detail a man to'drive her home again.' So Miss -Mine .returned in triumph with her cow 1 Anil those sparkling knee-buckles arc still trea sured by her descendants as a memento of Cornwalis and the Revolution. I.; In thfe spring following this event, the same young lady had the pleasure of wit* nessing the celebrated "Meschianza," a ve>y briUiant farewell entertainment of the British officers to Philadelphia, planned arid carried'out'by the unfortunate A_ir6, Time, sped on, and the fittle Anne grew to be a wife, a mother, and at'last a widow ; but many years still remaioe'd to'her, and she lived to see a fourth generation of de scendents, who loved .to,gather in a group about her arrdchair and listen to her stories of the Revolution. -Then, one winter, a taU on the ice disabled her,, and from that time the dear old grandmother remained on her couch. Now, mark the indomitable spirit of this girl of the Revolution 1 Eighty years of age, bed-ridden and suffering, she would permit no watcher to remain with her at night, not even an attendant to Bleep in the same room; but with a wax candle on her table Avithin reach, and her knitting beside her, with which to occupy|her hours of rest lessness and quiet her nerves, alone she would fight through, the silent watches of the night. Ono morning, when the atten* dant early entered her room, the candle was.burninglowin the socket, the vene« rable form was sitting up in the bed, knitting in hand, with the needles creased in|,the act of forming a stitch—but the heart that onco,beat co high and free was now Still for ever, and the brave spirit was at rest. ~'! „j „ . ~,, . .;,. ,-nf

A Very Wise Bird.

A black vulture known as the gallinazo', is a very familiar object on the Isthmus of Panama. One sees it everywhere, perched on heaps of refuse or employed in its great scrvideof cleaning the streets by removing the carrion. The gallinazo is of a uniform black, but its head and neck are entirely devoid of feathers. The inhabitants of Panama have a reason to give for this bald ness. At one time, they say, the gallinazo had feathers on its head. Alter the deluge, Noah, on opening the door of the ark, thought it well to give a word of advice to the released animals.

"My children," said he, "when you see a man coming towards you and stooping doi,\n, go away from him; he is getting _ stone to throw at you." "Very good,''exclaimed the gallinazo } " but what if he have one already ia hia pocket?" Noah was somewhat taken aback at the reply, and decided that in future the galli nazo should be born bald in token of its remarkable sagacity.

STAR SATURDAY SUPPLEMENT, JUNE 17, 1882



AT E W SEIt IA L TALE. Tlio right of Publication in New Zoaland having beon purchased from tho London publishers nt considorablo cost, tho ltomanco entitled "GOD AND THE MAN!" BY ROBERT BUCHANAN. Will shortly bo commonccd in tho "Stab Saturday Supplemrnt." Mr Buchanan Is well-known as tlio writer of "A Child of Nature," "Tho Shadow o£ tho Sword," &o„ Aud also as tho Author ot a number of Poems of great merit. Hia New Stokv, "GOD AND THE MAN," Has created quite an unusual sensation in England and Ainorica; and it Is now, FOB THE PIHST TIME, about to be Introduced to Now Zealand rcadcis. j All who wish to follow tho courso of this! Poworf ul and Intensely Interesting Story from tho beginning, should AT ONCE SKXU IN TJIBIH SUBSCRIPTIONS TO the PUBLISHER. Sub3criptlon to Stau, 7s (Id per quarter by post, payable iv advance.



MONSTER CLEARING SALE CLOTHING, FOR FOURTEEN DAYS ONptJ"; t-QREVIOUS to Extensive Alterations SAMUEL COOMBES & CO., having X purchased the Freehold of the Premises occupied by them, intend making extensive alterations; and, in order to do so, MUST REDUCE THEIR IMMENSE STOCK OF CLOTHING. Also, having Purchased for Cash the Stock of the Australian Clothing Company of Napier, i will include this Stock in the present sale. Heads of Familiies and Storekeepers should give us a call, as they will see Goods at such Prices as have, never been'heard of before in Auckland. THE SALE WILL COMMENCE ON FRIDAY, JUNE 23. NEW ZEALAND CLOTHING COMPANY, 86, QUEEN STREET (Opposite Wyndham Street), ■ ;', ;; AUCKLAND. > ■ ' ,;-■•; SAM UE L COOM fill ill GO.