MRS MARTYN'S VISIT TO ASCOT.

•Pretty littlo Mrs Martyn stood very much jji awe of her elderly husband, and con sequently sho was painfully conscious that in going to Ascot alone with Captain Brooke on tho Cup day she had committed a grave indiscretion. Her conduct, however, had the excuse of boing entirely unpremeditated and innocent. Captain Brooke was to have •cted as escort to his sister, Lady Hesketh, w ho had invited Mrs Martyn to accompany ijgr. They were to meet at Waterloo, but at the last moment Lady Hesketh was de tained at home by the sudden illness of one of her children ; so that when Mrs Martyn reached the station, she was greeted by Captain Brooke alone. There is no doubt ihat, on learning the state of affairs, Mrs Jiartyn should have driven back imme diately- But by that time her carriage had ] e ft the station, and Captain Brooke, Aoaohtlessly but from pure good nature, ie2K°d her not to abandon the expedition. Captain Brooke had the reputation—by B o means undeserved—of being the stupid est man in the army. An utter want of tact was the most conspicuous of his fail ings, and it never occurred to him that this BU m'estion involved any breach of social ; 'etiquette. Mrs Martyn was young and in- \ experienced in the ways of the world, and i laving to make up her mind at a moment's notice, she yielded to the captain's persua sions and permitted him to lead her to the -train, which was on the point of starting. When it was too late she began to be ■troubled with misgivings, which soon de- J -veloped into remorse and uneasiness. A j little reflection convinced her that she was acting imprudently, and that she would ; urobably incur her husband's severe dis- I nleasure. When she remembered that lie j lad only consented to allow her to accom- | nany Lady Hesketh after considerable fetation, and had frowned on hearing ■that Captain Brooke would be there, she -was seized with nervousness and trepida tion. Mr Martyn was a grave, elderly, •business man, taciturn by disposition, and inclined to be censorious and exacting to wards his own wife. Though lie had only been married a year, he already showed symptoms of jealousy, for no other reason apparently than because his wife was thirty veaira his junior. Little Mrs Martyn, un fortunately for herself, was amiable almost to"weakness, and by being too yielding and .submissive sho had thrown away the oppor tunities of asserting herself which the early •days of their married life had afforded. But she loved her husband, who, in his own gracious way, was devoted to her. A guilty conscience and dismal forbodingg ■caused Mrs Martyn to spend at Ascot the most miserable clay she ever passed in her life. The weather, being chilly and sunless, | .served to increase her depression, and i altogether she felt utterly wretched, flowing could have been more decorous— not to say dull—than the demeanour of | Captain Brooke, who gradually awoke to the fact that his fair companion had some ■Musi! for feeling ill at ease. Even to his unimpressionable understand ing it, began to be evident that Mrs Martyn was in rather an individoiis position. In iis perplexity he wisely contented himself ■with being as polite and saying as little iis possible. As for Mrs Martyn, her sole .anxiety was to escape the notice of friends .and acquaintances. Fortunately, the Heskeths had a box in the stand, and in ■this she took refuge, keeping well in the background, and laying strict injunctions on her cavalier to allow no one to enter. After the Cup had been run they returned ■to town. She waited until then for Cap tain Brooke's sake, knowing that ho had considerable pecuniary interest in the result of the race. He had been gallant enough to offer to sacrifice his own pleasure and take her by an early train, but she would not listen to this. She felt grateful to him

rjor his irreproachably correct manners towards her.and his stupid unobtrusiveness, and insisted upon remaining until after the ■chief event of the day. She was unspeak ably relieved, however, at reaching town again, and even more so at being landed at her own door. Her spirits had improved a great deal during the homeward journey, chiefly because, so far as she knew, nobody had seen her in Captain Brooke's company. Cheered by this conviction, she recovered heiseU sufficiently to go through tho form of thanking Captain Brooke at parting for the day's pleasure, while blushingly entreat ing him not to expose her imprudent con duct.

Mrß Martyn had every intention of con fessing to her husband the escapado of which she had buen guilty. Sho fully ex pected an outburst, but hoped to reassure •and soothe him with tho intelligence that she had not been recognised. Sho thought she had nerved herself for the ordeal after : rehearsing what she should say half-a dozen times ; but when , her husband ro-

turned, she commenced to feel frightened

It might have been her fancy, but it struck her that there was a marked coldness in

rlis manner towards her. Ho did not put

his lips to her forehead as usual on reach ing home, nor did ho ask a singlo question • about Ascot. This was perhaps a little strange, but then he had come in late, and iad explained, shortly, that he had.had a ■busy day in the city. All tho same, Mrs Martyn felt her courage 'slowly evaporating during dinner. Her ilusband's humour did not improve, but on

the contrary, he seemed to grow more taci turh and gloomy. When she proceeded to 'expatiate upon what she had seen at Ascot, he disconcerted her by glancing at her ■suspiciously. He made acasualremark once ■or twice in a funereal tone during the

evening, but never referred to Ascot, until I -the rose to leave the room, when ho said S -with studied carelessness—

' So you enjoyed yourself !' 'Yes. It is a pretty sight,'returned his wife, while her heart began to beat in anti cipation of her confession. ' Did Captain Brooke go 1' 'Yes,' answered Mrs Martyn, blushing crimson from sheer nervousness.

' How was Lady Hesketh V / Hero was the opportunity to tell the truth ■which she had been waiting for the whole 'CTening. It was a leading question which gave a capital opening for an explanation. But just at this critical moment ncr deter mination suddenly collapsed, and, conscious that her husband was eyeing her narrowly, she said in a nervous tone :—

'She is very well. We were sorry you were not there.' 'I could not leave my office,' he returned, father quickly, and at the same moment he commenced to close the door after her, and shut'himself in the room. Poor.little Mrs Martyn felt thoroughly mean and despicable when she reached the drawing-room. It was bad enough to have been culpably imprudent, but worse still -^as a matter of conscience—to have told a lie about it. She felt so vexed and humi liated about herself and the whole situation

that she broke into a piteous fit of sobbing, which lasted until the sound of footsteps on the landing outside caused her to dry her eyes hurriedly and prepare to receive hor husband.

But to her great surprise, the footman

ushered in a visitor who turned out to be Lady' Blanche. Terity, a cousin of Lord Hesketh's. Now, if there was one person in the world whom Mrs Martyn would have preferred not to see at that moment it was

Lady Blanche. The Lady Blanche was a strong-minded, eccentric woman of fiveand thirty, who lived/alone in chambers, like a man, and claimed absolute freedom of action. She wore short hair, smoked cigarettes, drove tandem, hunted, read Paul de Kock, and led then-an of the movement for throw ing open trie learned professions to women. But, in spite of her peculiarities and her advanced opinions, Lady Blanche was popular in society, for there was an honest downright frankness and determination about Tier which won respect, while her private fortune) which was considerable, and her high social position, no doubt helped to remove prejudices. Mrs Martyn had been startled and scared by Lady Blanche's loud voice and emphatic manner on first meeting her, and never felt quite at ea3e in her company. But an acquaintance approaching to intimacy had gradually sprung up between them, chiefly owing to the persistent way in which Lady Blanche patronised the" young country-bred girl. Mrs Martyn really liked her eccentric friend, but in her present distress of mind she shrank from such an outspoken and vivacious companion.

'How do you do, my dear?' said Lady Blanche, in her off-hand way as she appro priated a chair. '1 dare say you ai-e sur prised to see me, but I wanted to have a chat with you. How did you enjoy Ascot 1"

'Did you see mo there?' demanded Mrs Martyn, eagerly. 'Of course. You wero alone with Dick Brooke, and I did'nt give you credit for so much spirit. But you looked as though you were ashamed of yourself.' 'It was a pure accident,' said Mrs Martyn, blushing crimson. ' I—l hardly know how it happened. I certainly never intended to go alone with Captain Brooke.' Sho proceeded to give a, hurried explana tion of the origin of the unfortunate expe dition, and made Lady Blanche smile by her eager excuses. ' My dear, don't imagine I blame you for an instant. Thore is nothing to be ashamed of, that I can see. There was no love making or anything of that sort. But Dick Brooke is a fool, and ought tD have known better. It was all his fault.'

' I am afraid it was at least as much as mine,' said Mrs Martyn, somewhat soothed at being tenderly dealt with. ' I hope nobody saw us!'

' I have sharper oyes than most people, my dear, and I naven't said a word to any one,' said Lady Blanche. ' But how about your husbond ? What does he say ? I suppose there's a row on ?' ' Well, the fact is I—l haven't told him,' said Mrs Martyn guiltily. ' Hasn't he asked any questions, then ?' inquired Lady Blanche, looking surprised. ' Yes, but—but —'

' You don't mean to say you've concealed anything from him?' interrupted Lady Blanche, quickly. 'Have you told a lie, then ?'

'That is a strong expression,' said poor Mrs Martyn, vainly endeavouring to be dig nified.

' You little simpleton !' cried Lady Blanche. 'Now you've gone and put your foot in it! Ho will find out you have de ceived him, and will have a real griovanee, which will rankle in his mind. By making a mystery of a foolish piece of imprudence you will cause him to imagine the worst. He is tho sort of man to brood over a griev ance without saying about it. But it may alienate his affection from you, destroy all confidence, and lead to serious differences between you.' '1 will go and tell him everything,' cried the poor littlo lady, starting from hei seat.

' It's too late, my dear; better go on another tack. Now, do you think you can bo firm and resolute in order to socuro your future happiness ?' said Lady Blanche, eye ing her sharply. 'I have no reason to doubt that I shall continue happy with my husband,' said Mrs Martyn, very much scared. ' I have—especially after this little epi sode,' returned Lady Blanche, ominously. 'The fact is, my dear child, you have just reached a critical period of your married life. There is danger of your husband developing into a jealous domestic tyrant, nnd this allair might give him a hold over you which ho might never relax. Unless you want to tremble at his nod for the rest of your existence, you had bettor turn the tables upon him.' !Do what V oxclaimed Mrs Martyn, vaguely alarmed at tho suggestion.

'Hark ! I hear n footstep on tho stairs, said Lady Blanche, excitedly. ' Now, if you value your happiness, don't let him treat you with coldness and suspicion, but insist upon his immediately explaining who tho lady was he took to Ascot.' ' But—but my husband has been in tho city all day,' remonstrated Mrs Martyn, greatly scandalised. ' Has ho ?' said Lady Blanche, shortly■ ' You mustn't bet your sweet life on that. Anyhow, hear what ho says.' Something in Lady Blanche's tono stirred up the young wife's spirit, and brought a quick flush of colour to her cheek 3. Mr Martyn entered at the same moment, look ing particularly stern and unapproachable, but his wife did not hesitate to address him :—

'John, didn't you say you were in the city all day ?' 'I—l said so, yes,' returned he, dropping Lady BlanchoVhand rather hastily. 1 There, now !' exclaimed Mrs Martyn, glancing at her friend with an air of relief. ' Well, all I know is half-a-dozen poople saw you at Ascot,' said Lady Blanche, shrugging her shoulders. 'Saw mo at Ascot?' repeated Mr Martyn, frowning. ' Yes, with a lady,' returned Lady Blanche, looking straight at him. ' With a lady ! Oh ! pooh ! Ridica lous I' said Mr Martyn, rather clumsily en deavouring to laugh off the accusation. ' So your wife says. Of course, you know best. I would advise you to put a stop to this Hcandal immediately if it isn't true,' said Lady Blanche, rising from her seat.

' I will. There isn't a word of truth in it,' said Mr Martyn, growing sulky. ' It is a singular coincidence that several persons who knew you perfectly should have made the same mistake, remarked

Lady Blanche, in an innocent tone. 'It is doubly hard on you, considering that you wero mewed up' in a stuffy office all day. Good-day.'

Lady Blancho took her departure nmid rather an ominous silence on the part of both husband and wife. When she had left, Mr Martyn, oddly enough, did not at tempt to repudiate the insinuations that had been made, nor to give vent to express sions of indignation. He took up a book and pretended to read, but it was evident that he was Beriously disconcerted. He looked, as it seemed to his wife, rather sheepish and ashamed of himself, and Mrs Martyn entirely forgot her own remorse in the suspicious and indignant feeling which gradually took possession of her. She worked herself up into quite an angry frame of mind, and finding her husband maintained an obstinate silence, she could not help saying : — ' I think, John, you should put a stop to the scandal, as Lady Blanche says. You must get one of your partners to write to her and say you were at the office all day.' ' Nonsense !' growled Mr Martyn, ' I—l shall take other Bteps."

He spoke in a very dignified tone, but his wife could see that he shrank from the sug gestion. She soon persuaded herself that she had been cruelly deceived by him, and became very unhappy in consequence. She stalked off tobed without saying good-night, and made no secret of her wounded feelings. Mr Martyn seemed startled and perplexed by her behaviour, and abandoned his air of cold superiority. It was now Mrs Martyn who was full of jealousy and furious indignation, while her ■ husband was inclined to bo humble and ' submissive. j

He went off to town early the next morn ing in a sulky and defiant mood, his attitude towards his wife having taken a fresh phase, though they had not exchanged a word. Mrs Martyn was thoroughly unhappy, for, though she tried hard to disbelieve the story of his faithlessness, his manner plainly showed that thore was truth in it. She had failed altogether to see how the information which Lady Blanche had imparted was likely to secure her future happiness, and felt hardly less angry with Lady Blanche than with her husband. To her great sur- Erise, the latter returned home within an our after leaving the house, and with some

little awkwardness and embarrassment said, in a conciliatory tone,

'My dear, I have come to make a con fession to you. The truth is I did not stay at the office all day yesterday, but followed you to Ascot. I intended to join you there, but, feeling angry at rinding you alone with Captain Brooke, I did not disclose myself. In fact, I played the spy, and have felt ashamed of my deceitfulness ever since.'

' Not more than I, John. Then, you knew Lady Hesketh didn't go. Oh ! how meanly you must have thought of me,' cried little Mrs Martyn, feeling very penitent. ' We neither of us can feel proud of our selves,' said her husband, mildly, as he took her hand. ' Let us forget the episode and say no moro about it."

' Oh, yes, John,' acquiesced Mrs Martyn, eagerly. 'But—but how about the other story ! Were you really at Ascot with a—■ a lady ?'

' That was Lady Blanche's folly. I really think that woman must be mad,' said Mr Martyn, looking half amused and half annoyed, as ho produced a letter from his pocket. ' I found this waiting mo at tho office this morning, so I thought I had better return and set matters straight.'

Mrs Martyn opened the letter, which was in Lady Blanche's manly handwriting, and ran tints:—-

'My clear Mr Martyn,—Peccavi ! The story about the lady was pure scandal. But I really saw you at Ascot, and I think it was shabby of you to watch your poor little wife and then catch her out in a iib. When I found she had fallen into the trap, I determined to save hor. If she only has tho spirit of a mouse, she muxt by this time have averted the force of your indignation against her and brought you to a inoro reasonable frame of mind. A joke isajoko, and I'm writing this to prevent matters going too far. ' From what you saw yourself you must be convinced in your own mind that there is nothing between your wife and Dick Brooke. 1 think mutual apologies would bo a fitting termination to tho domestic squabble. Next timo you both think ,of going to a raeo meeting, tho obvious plan will be to go together. ' Yours very truly, Blanch k Verity.' As Mr Martyn read this eccentric and characteristic epistle sho realised the ser vice Lady Blanche had rendered her, and was dimly conscious that sho would know bettor in iuturo.,how to manage hor lord. But she prudently kept this reflection to herself and merely remarked : —

'That is a very sensible suggestion of Lady Blanche's, John, dear—l moan the last sontenco of hor letter. If you please, wo will go to Goodwood together.'

Divining by Numbers.

"Ahithmaxcy," or tho science of divining by numbers, is tho .subject of tho following remarks in "Harper's Magazine" : "In IStiG many persona in France wore looking to 180'!} ami 1870 as years of possible cntastro plies because of some curious arithmetical lacts in post French history. Louis XVI. came to tho throno in 177-1; adding those figures together givos 10, which added to 1774, gives 1703, in which year ho lost tim crown and lioad. Tho next regular order of government began witli tho full of Kobespiorro in 171)4, mul the Convention out of which grow tho First Empire. To 1794 mid tho sum of its digit*, 21, and yon have ISIG, tho year of Waterloo, tho fall of Napoleon, and the return of tho Bourbon power with Louis XVI IF. Again, add to 1815 the sum of its digits, and you Imro 1830, tho year of tho revolution of July, tho full of Churlos X., and the'accession of Louis Philippe. Hero another rule in arithraancy became operative. LonitJ; Philippe was born in 1773, tho sum of whose dibits is 18. Hie queen, Amolie, was born in 1782. The sum of tho dibits is again IS. His accession was in 1880. Add 18, and tho result is 1848, tho dato of his fall. During tho reign of Louis Napoleon, French be lievora in arithmancy were divided in methods of prognostication. Adding to 1848 the sum of its digits gave LSI!!*, to which many looked iw a year of disaster. Others counted from tho year in which ho was proclaimed emperor and married to Eugenic in 1853. Louis Napoleon wa* born in 1808, and the Empress was born in 18'2I>, both of which years give 17 as the sum of their digits. Following the rule, as in Louis Phillipe's case, and adding this to 186"), gave 1870. By a remarkablo coincidence, tho sum of the digits of ISSB was also 17, and the old rule, as in the case of Louis XVI., also gave tho year 1870 for disaster, which came with tho German war and the fall of the Empire. That this is not an after thought is shown by the publication of this prognostication for 1870 in 18Bb", as I have already cited it. Now, however, the French prophets, by helpof the magic in numbers, are in the darkness which overhangs all lookers into the future. Shall they add to 1870 the sum of its digits and expect the end of the Republic in 1886 ? Or must they take some one's birth year, and if so, whose '! Arith metic is as good as any other method of divination if you only know where to begin and how much to add. Let us not worry ourselves about it."

False Book Backs.

Wiiknt Charles Dickens was living in Tavistock House, ho required somo false bookbacks to fillin a few vacant places in his study, and asking the bookbinders to supply them, gave him the following titles to print on them :—Five minutes in China—l orty Winks at the Pyramids—Mr Green's Over land Mail—A Carpenter's Bench of Bishops —Toot's Universal Letter Writer—Down casters Complete Calculator (sic)— History of Middling Ages—Jonah's Account of the Whale—The Quarrelly Review—The Gun powder Magazine The Art of Cutting the Teeth—On the Use of Mercury by the Ancient Poets—Drowsy's Recollections of Nothing—Heavyside's Conversations with Nobody—Commonplace Book of the Oldest Inhabitant—Growler's Gruffology with Ap pendix—The Books of Moses and sons— Rurke (of Edinburgh) on the Snbline and Beautiful — Teazer's Commentaries—King Henry VIII.'a Evidences of Christianity.

AN ACT OF HEROISM.

A Mail Steamer Saved from Destrnc-

The London papers of July 30th contain particulars of an act of heroism so during and unique that the story will be read at the uttermost parts of the earth with wonder and admiration. The steamer Aurania, bo longing to the Cunard Lino, was on her way across the Atlantic when some serious injury befell her crank shaft. A consequence of this disaster was to convert a portion of the shaft into a gigantic flail of steel weighing many tons. This frightful whip of metal, wielded by the engines, revolved at a tre mendous speed, and the scene presented in tho engine-room battles description. The result of an injured propeller or a broken shaft is to make tho engines " race ;" that is to say, finding no further steadying resist ance in the gyrations of the screw, they go at enormous speed, and furnish tho surest indication to the engineers that something is wrong. Tho "racing" of the engines of this steamer communicated a furious movement to the arm of steel just abaft the engine-room. "Iron and steel," we read, " were knocked to pieces. A sup porting pillar of wrought iron, a foot in thickness, was broken in two, and one piece, weighing a ton, was bitten out, so to speak." Highland left this terrific Hail was dealing destruction, filling the atmosphere with sparks and smoke from its crashing blows, and raising a deafening uproar. It was very soon understood that if the fearful thrashing movement was not arrested by the stoppage of the engines tho ship's plates in the neighbourhood of the whirling body of steel would be beaten out, and that she would sink like lead. It so happened, how ever, that the brake winch controlled tho vast piece of mechanism was situated within two feet of tho revolving mass. Clouds of scalding steam hid it from view, and tho storm of sparks which were thrown up threatened deatli to any man who ap proached the spot. The second engineer, a Scotchman, named Andrew Lambert, de scribed as a "tall, brawny man, of some three or four and thirty, was on duty in the engine-room, Ho was standing at a distance of about thirty feet from tho brake whon the crank broke, and instantly per ceived that if the ship was to be saved tho engines must bo stopped, The brake was invisible ; the rush of steam was sailboat ing ; and the thunderous commotion of the racing engines and tho violent crashing sound of tho rotating mass of metal produced a clamour sulliciout to daunt the bravest heart. Nevertheless, tin's heroic man, dropping on his knees, fearlessly crept through tho blinding vapour and sparks, fooling his way as ho moved, until he was so close to tho whirling Hail that (he wind of it was like a hurricane upon his face, and then, still groping with his hand, ho grasped the brake and stopped the engines. "lie was badly scalded about the face and hands," concludes tho account, "but other wise uninjured, lie had risked his life to savo the ship."

It is not necessary to have much know ledgo of tho ongine-room of a steamer to appreciate tho marvellous heroism implied in Mr Andrew Lambert's devoted behaviour; but certainly tlioso who host know what that interior is liko will most applaud this Scotchman's magnificent courage. Tho passenger standing on tho deck of a atoamor may, by pooling bolow, catch sight of tho cylinders mid moving arms of steel beneath them, illuminated now nnd again by n ruddy gush of light from a furnace. Ho .sees platforms of iron, outlines of massive metal shapes grinding out tho wondrous power that is driving the lingo fabric of tho ship swiftly through high seas and storming winds, and in small screw vessels ho may sometimes get a glimpse of the junction of tho engines with the shafting, and mark tho inexorable arm of steel rotating those massive bars to whoso aftermost extremity tho propeller is nllixod. But little is to bo guessed as to the reality of that interior of mechanism in motion by peering at it through a It' is necessary to descend below the cylinders, to have the giant champing and throbbing overhead and around, to bo in close proximity to tho thrust block, the engine-seating, tho surface condensers. Then at a depth of many feet, with the roar of the furnaces and the rhythmic grinding of the engines in one's cars, it may bo possible to •realise the character of Mr Lambert's exploit by conceiving the place full of .steam and (marks, tlio engines raging liko liberated giants, and a mass of steel weighing many tons furiously revolv ing nnd striking .everything in its neigh bourhood ear-splitting blows until tho very structure that imprisons tho maddened steam-fiend seems riven and flying to nieces. It was an act of heroism in keeping with tho times. This is tho ago of steam, nnd it is right, that steam should have its heroes. As yet the onginc-room has not boon tho theatre of many valorous and groat oxploits. The stirring acts appear to stick to their old ground above clock; though that may bo perhaps because wo can ceo what goes on there. Courage has space for de monstration, sunshine or .starlight is over all, and tho launched boat, tho swimmer battling with the seas to save a shipmate, tho quiet and noble confrontmont of death may be watched with passionate eyes and with hearts panting to yield applause. The conduct of Mr Andrew Lambert, howevor, might well remind us of much neoret heroism, of which many a foundered ship's engine room could furnish thrilling stories, and chiefly of engineers and firemon who have stuck unswervingly to their duties below when they have felt the ship sinking undor their feet, and when tho engine-room has boon half full of water. Many such tales are on record—of engineers perishing at their posts and going to the bottom coffined in the interior, sooner than seek such safety as the decks may offer before the captain summons them to quit their hopoless but noblo struggle in the engine-room. There probably never was a time in the his tory of our Mercantile Marino when examples of manly conduct like that which Mr Andrew Lambert offered were so desirable as now. The tendency of the ago, it is to be feared, is to accept without much questioning the assurances which may be often heard and read that the merchant sailor ha 3 greatly deteriorated from the old standard, and that it is difficult to find anything commend able to-day in our engineers and firemen. Yet those who still have faith in tho En glish sailor, and who dispute much of the evidence that is brought to bear against the valuable body of men who man tho engine rooms of our vast fleets of steamers, have good reason to feel proud of and grateful for the unanswerable testimony on their be half that is supplied by such acts as Mr Lambert's. At all ovents, it is cortain that but little retrogression is to bo found when the call of duty is mado. Tho estab lishment of the lifeboat, no doubt, considerably modified the views which used to be entertained respecting that apparently idle class of " long shore men " who hang about the piers and yards of watering-places. It was discovered that the instant the opportunity was offered them for greatly and unselfishly acting in

the interests of humanity they eagerly seized it, and virtues of a wholly unsus pected kind, courage of a most exalted nature, were remarked among a community who had heretofore been regarded as little better than "loafers." Mr Andrew Lam bert is also but a type of his class. Give them the chance, and they are seldom found wanting. It is right to believo this; for it is constantly being proved. It might be even politic to as sume it, for no class can be the better for a persistent and illiberal refusal to ic cognise possibilities of excellence, of devo tion, of courage, and of, loyalty among them. We read of firemen imperilling their lives by swimming ashore through a heavy surf that they may be the means of rescuing their comrades ; of mates boarding sinking ships at the risk of their lives, and safely bringing oft' men and women and children; ot boats' crows daring terrific seas for humanity's sake only, and perishing martyrs to their glorious-resolution ; of men springingintothewavesafterdrowningmess mates ; and of seamon and firemen, of cap tains and officers, securing the safety of women and helpless foreigners—as in the case of the Kenmure Castle —and then, with folded arms, going to that death which loses half its terror to great and manly hearts. If the action of the heroic Mr Lambert does not remind us how much courage, how much dutifiilnoss there may be found among all classes of seafarers, it almost fails as a lesson. On the other hand, no higher end could bo reached by such conduct than the positive assurance it conveys that we have no occasion yet to lower our prido in tho vast majority of the crows who man our merchant Beets.

The Discovery of America.

Tho Honour Claimed for a Welshman,

Jamks Wood, of Albany (U.S.), in a recent lecture, said:—Tho following curious tradition exists among the Welsh : In 1170 two brothers, David and Madoc, quarreled for the throne. Tho younger, Madoc, be coming disgusted, gave up the struggle, and fitting out a ship, sailed West. Tho next year he returned, said ho had dis covered a fruitful country, and called upon his friends to follow him. He had no difficulty in filling ten ships with men, women and children. They sailed away, and, according to tho Welsh rtory, WOVO never hoard of again.

This would not bo worth much as history wore it not that it seems confirmed by evi dence found upon this sido of tho ocean. In 1070,500 years after il'rinee Madoo loft Wales n Welsh minister named Morgan wassent from Now York to North Carolina to preach to somo Welsh people who settled here. , , , One day ho wandered too far beyond tho outskirts of the settlement and was captured by tho Indians. They took him many miles inland and prepared to burn him at tho stake. Tho fagots were piled around him, and his doom seemed sealed. Suddenly ho unclaimed in Welsh: "Have I come so far to die like a dog at last ?" To Ins surprise tho Indian chief sprang forward, loosed his bonds and embraced him, crying in Welsh! "No; not if you speak that language. Henceforth ho was the honoured vest o£ tho tribe. Morgan's surprise deepened when tho principal members of the Indian tnbo gathered around him and began to converse with him in Welsh. Ho preached to them and they understood him. But what amazed him most was t» discover that they had a manuscript copy of the Biblo in tho Welsh language. Morgan relates this story in a letter sent to friends in Wales. This letter is well au thenticated, but it is the only evidence we havo in the. matter. So far as we are aware, nothing more was ever heard of this Indian tribe who spoke Welsh and had n Widen Bible. , But about fifteen or twenty years Inter an exploring party, returning from beyond the Mississippi Hiver, relate ninong other wonders that they found a tribe of Indians who speak the Welsh language. They, too, have a mauuscripfceopy of the \\ elan lilblo. None of their number can read it, and they kcop it as a mysterious treasure carefully rolled up in the skin of animals. And lifteon or twenty years later still an other exploring party brings us back strange news from tho'Red Itivor of tho North. They have found there singular people with whitened hair and blue eyes. Lastly, Catlin speaks of a tribe of whito Indians dwelling about the upper courses of tho Missouri. They are different from the tribes around them. Somo have fair aid bluo eyes, and their language la strangely mixed with a number of Welsh words. "Now," says Mr Wood, " here wo havo five independent accounts which seem^to tell ono story. They aro so strange that his torians don't know what to do with them. But if Indians on tho American Continent can speak tho Welsh language they must have hcon taught at somo time ; if there aro manuscript copies of the Welsh Bible here, they must have come hero somehow. And you can put these facts together as you please." Another now fact was stated tiy tho lec turer. In speaking of tho discoveries of John (Jabot, ho said in substanco : "Hero is a strange thing. John Cabot reached tho shores of Newfoundland in 14!)7, only live years after Columbus set sail. Ho found that Indians wore in possession of a groat number of Fronch words, and oven under stood him when he spoke in that language. Thoy know tho French terms for codfish and fishing. He learned that tho Breton fishormon from the rock-bound coast of Northern Franco were in the habit of coming to those bleak American shores in their fishing smacks and catching tho cod with which those shores abounded. Re membor, this was only five years after tho time of Columbus. So as these fearless fishermen, in their frail vessels, hod been travelling backward and forward across the ocean long enough to teach the Indians a good part of their language, who knows whether thoy saw the Continent of America even bofore Columbus did 1"

Best Thoughts.

He surely is most in want of another's patienco who has none of his own. Great dangers are not so oftun unforseen as not provided against. He must be a thorough fool who can learn nothing from his own folly. If you want enemies, excel others ; if yon want friends, let others excel you. It is by meditation and observation on the faults of others that wiso men correct their own.

Fancy is the canvas whereon -we paint our wishes for that which wo know we can never A generous mind identifies itself with all around it, a selfish one identifies all things with itself. . Bring thy gift to the altar, and not thy worthiness; thou canst beg, though thou canst not buy it.

STAR SATURDAY SUPPLEMENT. OCTOBER IS, 1883

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