THE BALLOON TREE.

CHAPTER I. The Colonel said :— We rode for several hours straight from the shore to the heart of the island. The sun was low in the western sky when we left the ship. Neither on the water nor on the land had we felt a breath of air stirring. The glare was upon everything. Over the low range of hills miles away in the interior hung a few copper-coloured clouds. "Wind," said Briery. Kilooa shook his head. Vegetation of all kinds showed the effects of the long-continued drought. The eye wandered without relief from the sickly russet of the undergrowth, so dry in places that leaves and stems cracked under the horses' feet, to the yellowish brown of the thirsty trees that skirted the bridle path. No growing thing was green except the bell-top cactus, fit to flourish in the crater of a living volcano. Kilooa leaned over in the saddle and tore from one of these plants its top, as big as a California pear and bloated with juice. He crushed the bell in his fist, and, turning, flung into our hot faces a few grateful drops of water. Then the guide began to talk rapidly in his language of vowels and liquids. Briery translated for my benefit. The god Lalala loved a woman of the island. He came in the form of fire. She, accustomed to the ordinary temperature of the clime, only shivered before his ap proaches. Then he wooed her as a shower of rain and won her heart. Kakal was a divinity much more powerful than Lalala, but malicious to the last degree. He also coveted this woman, who was very beauti ful. Kakal's importunities were in vain. In spite, he changed her to a cactus and rooted her to the ground under the burning sun. The good Lalala was powerless to avert this vengeance ; but he took up his abode with the cactus woman, still in the form of a rain shower, and never left her, even in the driest seasons. Thus it happens that the belltop cactus is an unfailing reser voir of pure, cold water. Long after dark we reached the channel of a vanished stream, and Kilooa led us for several miles along its dry bed. We wore exceedingly tired when the guide bade us dismount. He tethered the panting horses' and then dashed into the dense thicket on the bank. A hundred yards of scrambling, and we came to a poor thatched hut. The savage raised both hands above his head and uttered a musical falsetto, not unlike the yodel peculiar to the Valais. This call brought out the occupant of the hut, upon whom Briery flashed the light of his lantern. It was an old woman hideous beyond the imagination of a dyspeptic's dream. "Omanana gelaa !" exclaimed Kilooa. " Hail, holy woman," translated Briery. Between Kilooa and the holy hag there ensued a long colloquy, respectful on his part, sentenious and impatient on hers. Briery listened with eager attention. Sev eral times he clutched my arm, as if unable to repress his anxiety. The woman seemed to be persuaded by Kilooa's arguments, or won by his entreaties. At last she pointed toward the south-east, slowly pronouncing a few words that apparently satisfied my companions. The" direction indicated by the holy woman was still towards the hills, but twenty or thirty degrees to the left of the general course which we had pursued since leaving the shore, " Push on ! push on !" cried Briery. " We can afford to lose no tune." n. We rode all night. At sunrise there was a pause of hardly ten minutes for the scanty breakfast supplied by our havresacks. Then we were again in the saddle, making our way through a thicket that grew more and more difficult, and under a sun that grew hotter. " Perhaps," I remarked finally to my taciturn friend, "you have no objection to telling me now why two civilized beings and one amiable savage should be plunging through this infernal jungle, as if they were on an errand of life or death ?" "Yes,"' said he, "it's best you should know." Briery produced from an inner breast pocket a letter which had been read and reread until it was worn in the creases. "This," he went on. "is from Professor Quakversuch, of the University of Upsala. It reached me at Valparaiso." Glancing cautiously around, as if he feared that every tree fern in that tropical wilderness was an eavesdropper, or that the hoodlike spathes of the giant caladiums overhead were ears waiting to drink in some mighty secret of science, Briery read in a low voice from the letter of the great Swedish botanist :— " You will have in those islands," wrote the Professor, " a rare opportunity to inves tigate certain extraordinary accounts given me years ago by the Jesuit missionary Bu teaux concerning the Migratory Tree, the cereus varjrans of Jansenius and other specu lative physiologists. "TheexplorerSpohrclaims to have beheld it; but there is reason, as you know, for accepting all of Spohr's statements with caution. "This is not the case with the assertions of my late valued correspondent, the Jesuit missionary. Father Buteaux was a learned botanist, an accurate observer, and a most pious and conscientious man. He never saw the Migratory Tree; but during the long period of his labours in that part of the world he accumulated, from widely dif ferent sources, a mass of testimony as to its existence and habits. "Is it quiteineonceivable, my dear Briery, that somewhere in the range of Nature there is a vegetable organization as far above the cabbage, let us say, in complexity and po tentiality as the ape is above the polyn ? Nature is continuous. In all her scheme we find no chasms, no gaps. There may be missing links in our books and classifica tions and cabinets, but there are none in the organic world. Is not all of lower Nature struggling upward to arrive at the point of self-consciousness and volition ? In the unceasing process of evolution, differen tiation, improvement in social function, why may not a plant arrive at this point and feel, act —in short, possess and everciso the characteristics of the true animal!" Briery's voice trembled with enthusiasm as he read this passage. " I have no doubt," continued Professor Quakversuch, '' that if it shall be your great good fortune to encounter a specimen of the Migratory Tree described by Buteaux, you will find that it possesses a well-defined system of real nerves and ganglia, consti tuting, in fact, the seat of vegetable intelli gence. I conjure you to be very thorough in your dissections. "According to the indications furnished me by the Jesuit, this extraordinary tree should belong to the order of Cactacew. It should be developed only in conditions of extreme heat and dryness. Its roots should be hardly more than rudimentary, affording a precari ous attachment to the earth. This attach ment it should be able to sever at will, soar ing up into the air and away to another place selected by itself, as a bird shifts its habitation. I infer that these migrations are accomplished by means of the property of secreting hydrogen gas, with which it

inflates at pleasure o bladder-like organ of highly elastic tissue, thus lifting itself out of the ground and off to a new abode. "Buteaux addedthatthe Migratory Tree was invariably worshipped by the natives as a supernatural being, and that the mys tery thrown by them around its cult was the greatest obstacle in the path of the in vestigator." " There !" exclaimed Briery, folding up Professor Quakversuch's letter. "Is not that a quest worthy the risk or sacrifice of life itself ! To add to the recorded fact§ of vegetable morphology the proved existence of a tree that wanders, a tree that wills ; a tree, perhaps, .that thinks : this is glory to be won at any cost! The lamented Decan dolle of Geneva- "

" Confound the lamented Decandolle of Geneva !" shouted I, for it was excessively hot, and I felt that we had come on a fool's errand.

It was near sunset on the second day of our journey, when Kilooa, who was riding several rods in advance of U3, uttered a quick cry, leaped from his saddle, and stooped to the ground. Briery was at his side in an instant. I fol lowed with less agility ; my joints were very stiff, and I had no scientific enthusiasm to lubricate them. Briery was on his hands and knees, eagerly -examining what seemed to be a recent disturbance of the soil. The savage was prostrate, rubbing his forehead in the dust, as if in religious ecstacy, and warbling the same false to notes that we had heard at the holy woman's hut.

"What beast's trail have you struck ?" I demanded.

"The trail of no beast," answered Briery, almost angrily. "Do you see this broad round abrasion of thp surface, where a heavy weight had rested ? Do you see these little troughs in the fresh earth, radiating from tho centre like the points of a .tar? They are the scars left by slender roots torn up from the shallow beds. Do you pee Kilooa's hysterical performance ? I tell you we are on the track of the Sacrad Tree. It has been here, and not long ago." Acting under Briery's excitedinstructions, we continued the hunt on foot. Kilooa started toward the east, I toward the west, and Briery took the southward course.

To cover the ground thoroughly, we agreed to advance in gradually widening zigzags, communicating with each other at intervals by pistol shots. There could have been no more foolish arrangement. In a quarter of an hour I had lost my head and my bearings in a thicket. For another quarter of an hour I discharged my revolver repeatedly, with out getting a single response from east or south. I spent the remainder of daylight in a blundering effort to make my way back to the place where the horses were ; and then the sun went down, leaving me in sudden darkness, alone in a wilderness of the extent and character of which I had not the faintest idea.

I will spare you the history of my -suffer ings during the whole of that night and the next day, and the next night, and another day. When it was dark I wandered about in blind despair. Longing for daylight, not daring to sleep, or even to stop, and in con tinual terror of the unknown dangers that ..unrounded me. In the daytime I longed for night, for the sun scorched its way through tbe thickest roof that the luxuriant foliage afforded, and drove me nearly mad. The provisions in my havresack were ex hausted. My canteen was on my saddle ; I should have died of thirst had it not been for the belltop cactus, which I found twice. But in that horrible experience neither the torture of hunger and thirst nor the torture of heat equalled the misery of the thought that my life was to be sacrificed to the delusion of a crazy botanist, who had dreamed of the impossible.

The impossible ?

On the second afternoon, stiU staggering aimlessly on through the jungle, I lost my last strength and fell to the ground. De spair and indifference had long since given way to an eager desire for the end. I closed my eyes with indescribable relief ; the hot mn seemed pleasant on my face as conscious ness departed.

Did a beautiful and gentle woman come to me while I lay unconscious, and take my head in her lap, and put her arms around me ? Did she press her face to mine, and in a whisper bid me have courage ? That was the belief that fixed my mind when it strug gled back for a moment into consciousness : I clutched at the warm, soft arms, and swooned again.

Do not look at each other and smile, gen tlemen ; in that cruel wilderness, in my helpless condition, I found pity and benig nant tenderness. The next time my senses returned I saw that something was bending over me—something majestic if not beauti ful, humane if not human, gracious if not woman. The armß that held me and drew me up were moist, and they throbbed with the pulsation of life. There was a faint, sweet odour,like the smell of a woman's per fumed hair. The touch was a caress, the clasp an embrace. Can I describe its form ? No, not with the definiteness that would satisfy the Quackversuchcs and the Brierys. I saw that the trunk was massive. The branches that lifted me from the ground and held me carefully and gently were flexible and sym metrically disposed. Above my head there was a wreath of strange foliage, and in the midst of it a dazzling sphere of scarlet. The scarlet globe grew while I watched it, but the effort of watching was too much for me.

Remember, if you please, that at this time physical exhaustion and mental torture had brought me to the point where I passed to and fro between consciousness and un consciousness as easily and as frequently as one fluctuates between slumber and wake fulness during a night of fever. It seemed the most natural thing in the world that in my extreme weakness I should be beloved and cared for by a cactus. I did not seek an explanation of this good fortune, or try to analyse it; I simply accepted it as a matter of course, as a child accepts a benefit from an unexpected quarter. The one idea that possessed me was that I had found an unknown friend, instinct with womanly sympathy and immeasurably kind. And as night came on it seemed to me that the scarlet bulb overhead became en ormously distended, so that it almost filled the sky. Was I gently rocked by the sup ple arms that still held me ? Were we floating off together in the air ? I did not know or care. Now I fancied that I was in my berth on board ship, cradled in the swell of the sea. • Now, ffiat I was borne on with prodigious speed through the darkness by my own volition. The sense of incessant motion affected all my dreams. Whenever I woke I felt a cool breeze steadily beating against my face—the first breath of air since we had landed. I was vaguely happy, fentlemen, I had surrendered all responsi- Uity for my own fate. I had gained the protection of a being of superior .powers."

" The brandy flask, Kilooa !" It was daylight. I lay upon the ground and Briery" was supporting my shoulders. In his face was a look of bewilderment that I shall never forget. "My God!" ne cried, "and how did you get here.. We gave up the search two days ago?" The Drandy pulled me together. I stag j gered to my feet and looked around. The I cause of Briery's extreme amazement was

apparent at a glance. We were not in the wilderness. Wo were at the shore. There was the bay and the ship at anchor, half a mile off. They were already lowering a boat to send for us.

And there to the south was a bright red spot on the horizon, hardly larger than the morning star—the Balloon Tree returning to the wilderness. I saw it, Briery saw it, the. savage Kilooa saw it. We watched it till it vanished. We watched it with very different emotions, Kilooa with supersti tious reverence, Briery with scientific in terest and intense disappointment, I with a heart full of wonder and gratitude". ' I clasped my forehead with both hands. It was no dream, then. The Tree, the caress, the embrace, the scarlet bulb, the night, journey through the air, were not creations and incidents of delirium. Call it tree, or call it plant animal—there it was ! Let men of science quarrel over the ques tion of its existence in Nature; this I know : It had found me dying and had brought me more than a hundred miles straight to the ship where J belonged. Under Providence, gentlemen, that senti ment and intelligent vegetable organisation saved my life.

[At this point the Colonel got up and left the club. He was very much moved. Pretty soon Briery came in, briskly as usual. He picked up an uncut copy of Lord Brag much's "Travels in Kerguellen's Land," and settled himself in an easy chair at the corner of the fireplace. Young Traddles timidly approached the veteran globe trotter. " Excuse me, Mr Briery, said he, " but I should like to ask you a question about the Balloon Tree. Were there scientific reasons for believing that its sex was—

"Ah," interrupted Briery, looking bored, " the Colonel has been favouring you with that extraordinary narrative ? Has he honoured me again with a share in the ad venture ? Yes ? Well, did he bag the game this time ?"

" Why, no," said young Traddles. "You last saw the Tree as a scarlet spot against the horizon."

"By Jove, another miss!" said Briery, calmly beginning to cut the leaves of his book.]—" New York Sun."

SUICIDE AT NAPLES THROUGH AN AUSTRALIAN LADY.

Italian newspapers to hand give details of the suicide at Naples of" a gentleman who occupied a good position in society there, the cause being a young lady well-known in Melbourne as the daughter of a member of a prominent local firm of solictors. " LTtalie," a paper published in Rome, in its issue of the 9th ult. says :—" One of the two sons of Vice-Admiral Acton, and a nephew of the Minister of Marine, shot himself yesterday. We take from the ' Pongalo ' the following recital of this mournful drama, which has vividly im pressed the population at Naples :—'Theday before yesterday, shortly after noon, Lieu tenant Acton had returned from an excur sion to Sorrento. Having entered his quarters at the Admiralty, he ordered his valet de chambrc to prepare his breakfast. • Some few minutes afterwards the report of a pistol shot was heard in his bedroom. The attendants im mediately rushed to the room, and found that Lieutenant Acton had shot himself. Professors Galloyi and Palasciano, and the naval doctor, Sommer, were called in imme diately, and they at once announced that the case was of a grave character. They stated, however, that there were some re assuring symptoms. There was no vomit ing of blood, and therefore they were of opinion that the lung had not been touched. The ball had probably grazed the heart and punctured the surrounding tissues. Yester day, the state of the wounded man was still very grave, but not desperate. As for the motives which have urged tlie young officer to suicide, a love story is mentioned, At the last carnival, a rich Australian lady was at Naples with her young daughter. Together they were making a voyage through Europe, and their plan of travel comprised a short sojourn at Naples. They found in the town an ancient acquaintance in the person of Sub-Lieutenant Con siglio, who had passed two years in the Australian waters on board the Italian steam into Europe. Sub-Lieutenant Con siglio accompanied them to one of the balls at the Union Club, but the two Australian ladies had great difficulty in forming rela tions with the Neopolitan Society, as they spoke no other language than English. They could hardly make themselves understood in French, and therefore pre sentations were very rare. Amongst the persons who spoke English well, and who were presented to these two ladies, was Mr Acton, an officer of the Fusiliers. The re lations established between him and the two stranger ladies were at first only those of simple politeness, but little by little they took another character, and concluded by Mr Acton falling in love with the young Australian. When the mother of the latter understood that Mr Acton was about to make a formal demand for her hand, she wrote to her husband in Australia, pressing him to come himself to Naples to see to the matter. On the arrival of the father, some difficulties arose, but the love of the two young people did not diminish on account of that, and Mr Acton did not break off his relations with the Australian family. The day before yesterday they made an ex cursion together to Sorrento, where they pleasantly passed the evening. Mr Acton returned yesterday morning to Naples, and nothing in his manner caused his parents to suspect the misfortune which threatened them." Private letters received in tlie colony contain the information that Lieutenant Acton subsequently died from the effects of the pistol shot.

A Wonderful Imposture.

In the year 17SS a young man, the son of a tailor named Gunn, who was a clever artist, but of a wild roving disposition, wa? obliged, in consequence of being engaged in a midnight brawl, to iiy from Edinburgh to London in company with his twin sister. A few years after it was reported that he had died in London, and his sister returned to her native city, Edin burgh. It was noticed that she was a woman of a masculine appearance. Aided by her guardian, her parents being no more, she opened an academy for drawing and painting for young ladies, and was very successful, her school steadily increasing in reputation for at least twenty years, and she was engaged as teacher at all the principal ladies' boarding schools as professor of her art. She was a woman of some literary ability, and published poetry. While in the midst of her prosperity she fell into habits of dissipation which ultimately shut up her academy, deprived her of her outside en gagements, and gradually reduced her to absolute beggary, so that she had to seek a final refuge in the workhouse. There •the discovery was made that it was not the brother who died in London, but the sister. The supposed Miss Gunn was a man ! She was turned into the streets, and resuming male attire, obtained at last employment as an artist, married, and had children, including twins. Of his latter years no record is in existence.

A Murder Revealed.

Chicago, June 22.—Yesterday about noon, Edward Verunuler, a Belgian, living on Ninety-fifth street, about a mile west of the Illinois Central track", beat his wife so badly that she is now lying at the point of death. In terrror of further violence, she crawled to the nearest house and revealed the fact that the body of her murdered stepson, 10 years of age, was buried under the kitchen and that Verunuler had killed him last October.

Chicago, June 22.—The following addi tional particulars of the murder of his step son in October last by Edward Verunuler, the Belgian who beat his wife nearly to death yesterday, are published to-day : Last October, on a Sunday morning, Verunuler sent his stepson, ten years of age, to Roland for some trifling article, and gave him 4dols with which to make his purchases. The boy (was short 40 cents on his return, and Verunuler, seizing him dragged him to the back of the house, and literally pounded and beat the little fellow to death. His wife en deavoured to interfere to protect her son, but the inhuman wretch threatened to give her worse, and her efforts were unavailing. After the boy had breathed his last, Veru nuler put the body in the front room of the house and locked the door, refusing his wife admittance. That night he took up a por tion of the kitchen floor and dug a hole three feet deep, and the body of the man gled and bruised victim was thrown in with out other covering than the clothes lie had on, and the soil and floor were replaced. The murderer then locked the door of his wife's room, and made her swear on her bended knees never to breathe a word of the crime, and threatened to brain her should she make the slightest allusion to the affair. Thus the matter was dropped, and everything was quiet until last Sunday. On that day Verunuler came home, and for some trifling cause beat his wife, who was some six months advanced in pregnancy, Until she was delivered of her immature child. This was not known at the time, as the country is sparsely settled, and the woman did not dare for fear of her life to apply for aid to her nearest neighbours. Not content with the beating of Sunday, Verunuler came home yesterday and im mediately began a murderous assault upon his wife, striking her with anything that came within his reach. He kicked her and finally jumped upon her with his heavy boots as she lay prostrate at his feet. At the first opportunity the. woman, supposing she was about to die, turned herself over, and crawling to the nearest house, told her story.

Sergeant Sheridan was notified, and at once went to see the woman, and ordered the arrest of the man. He showed fight, but was taken to gaol and locked up, The woman, expecting to die, then revealed that the murdered body of her stepson lay buried under the kitchen. Sergeant Sheridan, with Officers Vink and Miller, procured a pick, and tearing up the floor, began to search for the body. They laboured for some time without success, and finally Sheridan went down and brought the pris oner from the gaol. He was taken to where the officers were at work, and ordered to point out the spot where the body lay. He refused, and no threats could compel him to speak. Finally, seeing that the officers would be successful sooner or later, he pointed to a spot in the coiner of the place, saying, "It is there." The soil was thrown up, and the body of the murdered boy was found.

This was about 7 o'clock. In less than an hour the news had spread far and near, and by 9 o'clock 2,000 people were surging up and down in front of the gaol, armed with tools for breaking in the doors and pro vided with an abundance of rope. In the meantime Captain Hunt had been sent for and was on the ground. He slipped out the back way, running at full speed for the depot with the prisoner. The mob dis covered the escape, and rushed after the officers and their prisoner. The station is but one block distant, and the officers suc ceeded in getting their man on board the train, which at once pulled out at a rapid rate. -The mob pursued it some little dis tance before giving up all hope of obtaining possession of the prisoner. He was taken to the village goal at Hyde Park and thrust into a cell. No violence is now appre hended, as Kingston is twelve miles from the Hyde Park Gaol.

Mystery and Murder.

There was a certain murder committed some years ago, the victim being a girl : a man was arrested on suspicion, but event ually discharged for want of evidence. One day about this time Palmer was draw ing these "portraits," when he began thinking over the mysterious murder, and drew a "spirit" group representing the murdered girl and the face and hand of the murderer. The portrait of the latter, when he came to look at it, presented a rather remarkable face of the low type, of which he thought no more. Six months later he went one day to the Grantchester meadows to skate, when a man brought the usual gimlet and bit of carpet, and offered to put on the skates. Palmer looked at him, and instantly recognised his own portrait. "You?" he cried; '' why, you ought to have been hanged six months ago for murdering ." The man started and fled without a word. If this is not true, it ought to be. Let me tell another odd story of this kind, which was connected with his friend Tyrwhitt Drake. They were in Venice together. An importunate beggar followed them ; they tried to drive him off with every form of abuse known to them ; but still the man hung upon their heels and still demanded alms. At last Tyrwhitt Drake bade him begone, adding a word which Palmer had never heard before. The effect on the beggar was remarkable ; he glared, turned pale, spat, made the sign of tne cross, and ran off as hard as he could, with every indication of terror. Then Palmer asked Drake what was that strange word. Drake did not know what it meant, or to what language it belonged, but re peated the word to him. Presently they arrived at St. Mark's, where, after going the round with a verger, Palmer asked that functionary if he would kindly explain that strange word. The verger behaved in the same surprising manner as the beggar, and intreated them that they would leave the place immediately. They came away, therefore, and took a gondola. To the gondolier the same question was put, with similar results of terror and uneasiness ; nor would the man sneak one other word to them until he had landed his passengers. They then called their hotelkeepor. He laughed uneasily, said that an English gentleman, t. be sure, could not know, but —here he Loo went through the same per formance of terror and fled hastily. Subse quent inquiries only resulted in the assur ance from everybody that there was no such a word, and that there could not possibly bo such a word. It is, in fact, a word the mere utterance of which is supposed to bring disaster upon him who speaks it, or upon those who hear it. Under these circum stances I shall not write that word. " The Life and Achievements of Edward Henry Palmer." By Walter Besant, M.Ai

A Lucky Discovery.

1 Samuel. Russia,!,, when a young man, and Cresswell (afterwards of Covent Garden Theatre), belonged to a small strolling comi pany in Kent. This concern breaking up, they applied to the manager of the ileal Theatre for employment, and succeeding in obtaining an engagement. The theatre, it was stated, would open in a few days. In the meantime their finances were in a woeful plight, Cresswell not having a far thing, and Russell possessing only three shillings and sixpence in tho world. To render the matter worse, the latter, fancy ing that he had friends at T)eal, laid out his three-and-sixpence on a pair of second-hand white kerseymere breeches, in which he in tended to enact the part of Belcour. After making this purchase, Russell to his mortifi cationdiscovered that the friends from whom he had expected assistance had quitted Deal. Cresswell was a stout, melancholy person, and paraded the sands with an awfully craving appetite, and no credit. Russell, pour passer le temps, went to his lodging to try on his kerseymeres. Whilst admir ing them, he imagined he felt something like buttons inside the lining at the knee. He proceeded immediately to cut open the seam, and, to his great delight, miraculously discovered three half-guinea-, which had probably made their way from the pocket of some former fortunate possessor of the small-clothes. Highly elated with this piece of luck, Russell hit on an expedient to have some fun, in consequence, with poor Cresswell. Accordingly he went to a tavern— the "Hoop and Griffin"—and ordered a roasted fowl and sausages, and a bottle of sherry, telling the waiter to lay the cloth, and he should return. He then sought Cresswell, whose appetite and despondency had increased in an eminent degree. " What, in the name of Heaven, is to be done, Cresswell ? This is Thursday, and the theatre will not open until Monday next. If you can last so long as that, 1 cannot." '' / last ':" replied Cresswell. '' lam now perfectly empty. Look at my waistcoat." " Come along," says Russell; "let us put a hold face on it. It is of no use being poor and seeming poor too. Let us go to the ' Hoop and Griffin, and try and get a dinner. We cannot be worse off than we aro at present." Cresswell was a modest reserved man ; but he followed Russell into the coffee-room of the tavern, which was vacant. As they stood before the fire the waiter was busily employed in laying the cloth. When he had left the room, " Cresswell," said Russell, " I havemadoupmymindtoonepoiirfc. You and I will dine with the gentleman for whom that cloth is laid." "Heavens! Russell, what is your in tention ?" "No matter," replied Russell; "leave aU to me." He then looked out of the window, if to observe whether any person was coming. " Here goes," said Russell ; and he rang the bell consequentially. "Waiter, teu your mistress to send in the dinner." '' Yes, sir." " Heaven bless us ! " exclaimed CresswelL " You are surely not going to get us in such a dreadful scrape ? We had better be hungry than dishonest." " Necessity has no law," said Russell ; "and so I shall tell the gentleman when he comes." The waiter now entered with the roasted fowls and sausages, placed them on the table, and left the room. " I cannot resist it, Cresswell," exclaimed Russell. "How nice this fowl smells!" Accordingly he sat down and removed the covers. "Let me exhort you to take care what you are about," said Cresswell ; you know we neither of us have got a farthing. Ah ! if you had not laid out your money on those deplorable breeches ! Good Heavens ! you are cutting up somebody else's fowl ! Suppose the gentleman should come ! Hadn't you better wait for him and ex plain ?" "D the gentleman !" said Russell. I'll fight him if he does not like it. Sit down, I say. I'll hold you harmless !" Cresswell was in great distress, and en deavoured in every way to persuade Russell to desist from his fraudulent mode of pro ceeding. At this moment the waiterbustled in with the bottle of sherry. Cresswell in wardly groaned, '' There's the gentleman's wine, too, to add to the misdemeanour!" At length, worn out with hunger, overcome by the savoury exhalation of the roasted fowl and sausages, and persuaded by P^ussell, Cresswell moodily seated himself at the table. While Russell was carving, he took the opportunity occasionally to peer out of the window, and remark, "He has not come yet." After some glasses of wine Cresswell became a little less unhappy. "For what we are going to receive," said Russell, "the Lord make us truly thankful." J " Amen !" fervently ejaculated Cresswell, and devoured his share of the dinner with an appetite that showed how much he was in want of it. When the fowl was de molished, Russell, looking into the street, saw a stranger coming into the tavern. " Here he is,"said poor Cresswell. "Now it is all up with us !" " I will bet you a bottle of wine," replied Russell, coolly, "to be paid in more prosperous times, that the gentleman will not take the slightest notice that we have eaten his dinner/ . ''Ih.?pto Heaven," sighed Cresswell, he will not! "Now, observe," said Russell, "when he comes into the room I will give him a look that shall prevent him saying a word to us " Here the stranger entered; Cresswell modestly hung down his head ; whilst Rus sell rose, and affected a sort of swagger, flourishing the carving-knife, humming a tune, and sitting down again. " You are a wonderful fellow, Russell," whispered Cresswell. "He has not taken any notice of the loss of his fowl and wine I " Nor willhe," said Russell. "He knows better. Cresswell remained on tenter-hooks all tlie afternoon, expecting the gentleman to breakout every moment. He never knew that his companion had hoaxed him ; but he set the stranger down as the greatest pol troon he had ever met in his life.

A Thrilling Tragedy.

Late the other night a man was seen to approach in a stealthy manner a deep po°' of water in a retired spot at Birkenhead. When he thought no one was observing him, he dropped a bulky parcel into the water and made off. Here were the ma terials for a delicious tragedy, a maddening mystery. Information was taken to the nearest police station, and the intelligent inspector on duty, recognising the gravity of the situation, sent for a detachment of the fire brigade, and commenced pumping the water out of the pool. All night they pumped, ana when the sun was winging his measured course across the eastern skies, the mysterious parcel was displayed to light, lying flat and squat on the bottom mud. A vast crowd pressed forward, thrilled to the finger tips with expectation. W* * d^T rr or cartridges, or the limbs of * ma "' „ the head of a man, or the head or « woman, or the body of a murdered chilo . It wa. : neither of these. It was <*__J nat^<i*€C' ■ remains of a worn-out concertina.

STAK SATURDAY BTJ_E_»T nEMEEST; Sl_:PT__M__:E_R X; iBSS.

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