STAR SATURDAY SUPPLEMENT.

AUCKLAND, N,Z, FEBRUARY 3, 1883.

FOR THE LADIES.

The Flathead Indians are praised because they saw wood for their wives. But they did not get their name for any such reason,

Let women be brought np to habits of industry and economj and learn to support a husband and the tramp nuisance will soon cease.

Costumes are to be less clinging this sea son, bnt pricos will stick. Why does a young lady resemble a rifle ? Because she has to be charged with powder before the ball.

It's a mean boy, who, knawlng that his sister's young man is still in the parlour, will Blip downstairs near midnight and gaily ring tho breakfast bell. Washington has 'comet parties." "A good idea, by Jupitor," says young Spinlts, " fc.r tho boys o*n now planet to get tho girls away from their Mars." The man who travels one thousand miles in ono thousand hours may be tolerably quick-footed ; but ho t'tt't a touch to the woman who keeps up with tho fashions. Tnirteen female phyeiciuns are practising in Clayton, Ja., and at a recent fire there were uot well men enough in the town to run the engine out. It is one grand incor porated hospital. A mau advertised for a " helpmate, who shall be a companion of my heart, ray head, my lot," A candidate for the situa'ion wrote: ''I don't care to know anything about your head and heart, but how big )s jour lot?" A crusty old follow asks : " What is the reason tint griflins, dragons, and devils are ladies' favourite subjects from embroidery designs I" " Ah, because they are continu ally thinking of their husbands," was the quick retort. At the last costume fete Riven by Mmc, X. at Dieppe, before tne return to Paris, the hostess was dressed vaouclv in .green gauze anil rtecouets beyond measure "What a splendid costume!" exclaimed Dumas, who had coma over from bis villa at Puy to be present at tho fete. "And what, madam, do you represent ?" " I am Amphitrite," repliid the lady, modestly. " At low tide," suggested Dumas. When a Detroit man snored his wife didu't grumble and find fault. Ho was awakened ono night by a curious sensation in the nose. His wife implored him to go to till cp again, as she was just getting so sho could play Yankee Doodle on bis nose by fingering it while he soored. He's cured.

A bear broke into the house of a Nevada man the other night. Ho was away, and his wife supposed it was he coming home drank. Sue didn't stop to light a lamp, but began operations. TVheu the bear finally got away ho didn't stop running till he had travelled oleven milas into tho heart'of the mountains, and ho was such a sight that other bears wouldn't associate with him.

HER GLOVE.

Thou more than most sweet Glove,

Unto my more sweet Lovo SulVor mo to store with kisses This empty lodging that now miasos Tho pure rosy band that wore theo. Whiter than tho kid that bore theo. Thou art soft, but that was softer; Cupid's Bolf hath kissed it otter Than e'or he did his mother's dovos. Supposing her the Queen ot Loves, That -«*s thy mistress, Best of Gloves 1 Sen Jonaon,

" Who is Maria!'" was the question that Btartlcd Mr Brown (who talks in his sleep) as ho woke the other morning and tound Mrs Brown sitting up in bed with an inter rogation point in one eye, and an exclama tion point in the other. " Maria ? Mario who!" "That's just what I want to know; you repeated the name over and over again la«t night," "i ct me see—oh ye*; that's Parker's dog—a splendid, ani mal. I have been trying to buy her." " You ought to own her, certainly, you ore so excessively fond of her. Yon asked Parker's dog to put her arms round her neok and kiss you. Ten even went so far as to tell Parker's dog that yeu loved her with all your heart, and that wben yon came to die if you could only lay your head on Parker's dag's boaom yon could bre&the your life out sweetly there. Then you asked Parker's dog to have another plate of ice-cream, and if the watch you had given her kept good time. During the night you kissed JParkor's dog a dozen times, called her all the pet names known, and proved to me conclusively that you ought to live with Parker's dog and not with me." Mrs Brown has gone to her mother.

LADY BILLIARD PLAYERS.

Ladies have been billiard ,'players abroad ever since the days of Mary, Queen of Scots', of whom the historian says sno wrote just before her execution that her billiard table had been taken from her as a preliminary step to her punishment. "Tho game," an American in the art said, " possesses quite as much fascination for tho ladies when they learn the secret of managing the cue, as it does for the male playors. There is no indoor pastime that can comparo with it for the amount of real receation to be derived from practice. It combines mild exertion,'with amusement in a thoroughly enjoyable way, and physicians say that it is, in a certain sense, a tonic to the system. I can say, speaking from my personal observation, thatitia becoming more and more popular as a household sport in all parts of this country, In the South the ladies are, some of them, very expertindeed, and a year or two ago all the newspapers chronicled the brilliant play of a Southern society belle, who in a private match game ran out a GOO-point French carrom game with "a. run of 300 consecutive shots. In New York and Chicago she will soon be abo to find rivals worth this unusual prowess." It is a matter of current society gossip that matches are often played between Murray Hill belles for such stakes_ as new gloves and toilet trinkets. Sometimes the sterner sex are invited to these little select entertainments', and recklessly squander all their immediate pocket-money in gallant wagers on their favourites, "The best lady playera," Mr. Slosson said, "in the world are undoubtedly to be found in Prance, where the wife of Maurico Vignaux, the greatest player in Europe, is a disciple of her husband in the game. The game was really invented and perfected there, you know. It was popular with and played by the titled ladies at tho court of Louis XV, and Queen Marie Antoinette was an admirer of the pastime. I paid five franks one day to look at her relicß at Versailles, and the first thing that attracted my attention after I entered the

apartment was the curious looking table on wnich she used to play. Nowadays the ladies of France follow the example of the royal ladies, and they are very partial to tho game. It is a usual thing there for ladies .of good standing to go to the cafes with their male escorts, and watch them play at tho game. They never play in public themsel»e*, however, but only at homo. Tbore they have matches with each other, or with male friends, and it is apparent to a spectator that they enjoy the contests greatly. They have not gone so far in America as to visit the billiard-rooms, but one evening recently a German woman came into my room here from Booth's Theatre and sat chatting while her com panions played a game. Everybody stared, and I stared myself, for 1 had never seen such a thing outside of Europe. Yet nothing would havo been thought of that abroad, where ladies where amongst the most curious who watched my practice games befpro Vigoaux and I played our latest match, Thsy used to crowd about the table, the gentlemen spectators making room for tbcm, and chatter in the liveliest way. Their eager interest and open-eyed wonderment at some fancy strokes that 1 used to make for fun made me laugh heartily at times. "Tha English ladies make fine billiard players, too,"Mr. Slossoncontinued, ''and no English gentleman of means considers his house complete without a billiard-room, where bo and bis wife and friends can play when they desire. I know many New York and Brooklyn ladies who play the game. Thero is something charming in having them for opponents when they .are skillful. They can make the game far more attractive and interesting, and they certainly elevate it by their presence."

A WOMAN'S LOVE LETTERS.

There is not much variety in love-letters. For the moat part they appear honelessly silly to all except those concerned in their production. My fist love-letters, says "Lady Beauty," were written when I was 10 years old, and were inspired by a page boy in my father'a service, whose buttons madetan indelible impression on my already susceptible heart. The page boy was a Victim to the charms of a housemaid fifteen years his senior, and spurned my advances. This resulted in the heartrending epistles above mentioned, which, however, were in tercepted, while the unlucky writer was re warded by t eing sent to bed for spoiling the contents of a now desk. Since that time -a period ot nearly fifteen years—l have, if not wiittop, received quantites of love-letters in mauy languages, from people of all ayes and nationalities, and have not yet lost my interest in them. As a study thoy'are amusing, not to say instructive. As letters they are flattering to ono's vanity, which is not inconsiderable.

The most impassioned letters are usually written by men from 40 to 50 yeara of age, if the water be an Englishman. Attach ments at that age are deeper, and less anx iety not to compromise one's self is shown aud felt. From 25 to 40 they are more cau tiously worded, and even occasionally signed with initials. Men between these ages, besides being desirous to avoid com mitting themselves, arc more or leas ashamed of any display of sentiment. A young man from IS to 25 will inundate the object of his affection with letters full of the most fervent protestations, as evanescent as they are ardent. After 50, men are often wise enough to vote the writing of letters an unprofitable occupation ; but some carry on the practice to a very advanced age. Their protestations are then ingeniously ilavovred with touches of the paternal, which sometimes entirely mislead the un sophisticated recipients.

MATRIMONY AND MATCH MAKING.

It is recorded of an ancient sage that, on being asked at what period of his life a man ought to marry, he replied : " When he is youn» it is too soon; when old, it is too late." Discouraging as such an answci may be considered, it still leaves the ques tioa open as far as middle-aged individuals are concerned; whereas the matrimonial aspirations of these, as well as of juvenile and hors d'age would-be Benedicts are summarily and uncompromisingly checked by the oft-quotdd prohibitory monosyllable, "Don't" ! That marriage is a lottery, more suggestive of blanks than prizes is ; we be lieve, generally allowed; and the possi bility of this drawback being admitted, it would be unreasonable to blame the candi < date for the happy state if he looks before he leaps abd weighs well the pros and cons of the undertaking ere he irrecoverably commits himself. Every ono is not bo for tunate in his choice as the painter

Charlet, who tells us that on his first inter view with the woman destined to become his wife 'he found her engaged in the homely but practical employment ot darning stockings. " Mine are already in holes," he reflected, and this reminescence of bachelor discomfort decided the matter. Ho pro posed, was accepted, and, as he conscien tiously adds, "never had "cause to regret it."

It is, moreover, a melancholy fad; that young men of the present day are lens im pulsive and more calculating than—:if tra ditional reports are to be credited—they formerly were, and are rarely inclined to barter their liberty except for a proportion ate " quid pro quo." Love in a cottage has long been an exploded myth, and the pleasant fallacy, that where one can dine two can, only requires a few months' trial to be at once and forever disproved, We are gradually—although not, perhaps, without protest—adopting the usage in vogue among our neighbours acrosis the channel, and accustoming ourselves to re gard matrimony as an "affair not to be entered upon lightly, but demanding the fullest and most mature deliberation ; like Talleyrand, we are inclined to distrust first impressions, alihough not precisely for the reason alleged by that astute diplomatist, Many young men who willingly succumb to the attraction of a pretty face, and plunge unhesitatingly into a flirtation-on every available opportunity, yet, however closely they may flutter round the candle,, take especial care not to bum their wings, while on their side thd fair ladies, we may be sure are equally cautious as to the amount of encouragfluient they may safely venture to bestow.— All the Year Bound,

Hoffenstine's Bugle.

LEAVING THK STORE AND GOING WITH

THK SOLDIERS. " Mr Hofpbnstihk," said Herman, as he folded up a pair of pants and placed them on a pile, " if you don't haf any objections I vould like to get from de sohtoro avay yon ofening, und go mit de soldiers to de Spanish fort." "Veil, Herman, I dinks you had petter keep avay from de soldiers," replied HofFenstine, "und stay mit de store, pecauso you know you don't Can put any confidence mit de soldiers. I vill tell you vhy: "Yon day vhile I vas in Vickabnrg, during de var, a cook-eyed soldier came in my atore mit an old bugle In his hand, und he looks around. I asks him vat he vants, und he buys a couple of undershirts. Den he tells me to keep his bundle and bugle behind de counter until he comes back. After de cock-eyed soldier vent de store out, some more soldiers come in und v&lk all around, vile aey look at de goods. ' Shentleraens,' I cays,: ' do you vhant any ding?' 'Ye are sbust looking to see vot you haf,' said one of dem, und afdeir avile auodder saya, ' Bill, shust look dere at de bugle, de very ding de Captain told us to get. You know we don't haf any bugle in de company for dree months. Jfiow much you ask for de bugle?' I dells dem dat I can't sell de bugie, pecause it belongs to a mau vot shust vent out. ' I vill gif you $50 for if,' said de soldier, putting his money out. I tells him I don't can sell it, pecause it vasn't mine. 'I vill gif you §100,' he said. My gracious, Herman, i vants to sell de bugle so ba dat I vistles. I)e soldier dells me vile dey vos leaving de store dat if I buy de bugle from de man vot owns it dey vill gif me §125 for it. I dell dem I vill do it, I sees a chance, you know, Herman, to make some money by de oberatiou.

" Yen de cock-eyed soldier comes back be says, ' Git me my bundle and l>u«lo ; I got to go to de camp, 1 I says, •My Irent, don't you vant to sell yonr bugle 1' He dell me no,, nnd I says, 'My little boy Leopold, vet plays in de store, sees de bugle, und he goea all around crying shust as lond as he can pecause he don't get it. Six dimes I dakes him in de yard nnd yips him, und he comes right back und cries for de buglo. It shows, you know, how much trouble a man vill haf mit a family. I vill gif you ten dollars for it shust to please little Leopold.' De soldier von't dako it, und at last I offers him fifty dollars, und he says, ' Veil I vill dake fifty, pecause I can't vaste any more time; I haf to go to de camp.' Afder he goes avay I goes to do door uud va.tches for de toldiera vat vanted the bugle. I sees dem passing along de street, und I says, 'My frents, I hal: got de bugle,1 unct dey say, 'Veil, dam it, vy don't you blow it V My gr-r-a-cious, Her man, vat you dink? Air dem noldiers belong to de same crowd, und dey make de trick to swindle me. Levi Cohen, across de street, ha finds it out, and efery day he geU boys to blow horns in front of my store, so as to make me dink, how I was swindled. Herman, I dink you had better stay mit de store."

THE HOUSE OF White Shadows.

By B. Lv FARJEON.

AUTHOR OP

"Blades -o' - Grass," " Joshua Marvel, "Bread and Cheese and Kisses," *' Gr-if," " London's Heart," •fee, die,, tic.

Continued.

The radius of this light, of which it seemed to form a part, she saw distinctly a white figure, like a spirit. The curtains were drawn aside, and all within the room— with the exception of Pierre Lamont, who tyas loft without an audience—pressed tor* ward and peered into the gloom. JNo thing was to be seen; ro glimpse of light or white shadow; no movement; but the slight siir of leaf and branch. But the y«ung lady vehemently psrsisted in her statement, and questioned more closely, declared that the figure was that of a woman; she seen her 'face, her hair, her white robe.

The three persons whom her story most deeply impressed were the Advocate's wife, Arthur Balcombe, and Father Capel, With the Advocate it was simply a delusion of the senses; with Jacob Hartrich " nerves," Balcombe and Father Capel weni out to search the grounds, and when they returned, reported that nothing was to be seen. The story, however, had reac hed the ears of tne servants, ana Dionetta, iv a whisper, asked Mother Denise whether it was not strange that the white shadow should have appeared on the first night of the young master's return to the old house.

During this excitement Pierre Lamont was absolutely nnnoticed, and it was not till a groan proceeded from the part of the room in which he sat huddled up in the wheeled chair in which he was imprisoned that attention was directed to him. He was evidently m great pain ; his features were contracted with the spasms which darted through his limbj, "It almost masters me," ho said to the Advocate, as he laughed and winced, " this physical anguish. I will not allow it to conquer me, but I must humour it. I am tempted to ask you to give mo a bed to night." " Stop with us by all means," said the Advocate. " The (night is too dark, and your house too far for you to leave while you are suffering."

So it was arranged, and within half an hour all the .other guests had taken their departure.

CHAPTER XX. JOHN VANBUBGH WAITS FOR THE SIGNAL, For more than twenty years the Honse of White Shadows may be said to have lived without a history. Its last eventful chap ter ended with the death of Arthur Bat combe's father, whose tragic story had been related by Mother Denlse. Then came a blank—a dull uniformity of days and months and years, without the occurrence

of a single event worthy of record in the annals of the family who had held the estate for four generations. The doors and windows of the villa were but seldom opened, and on those rare occasions only by Mother Denise, who had too strict a regard for the faithful dtscharge of her duties, to*

allow the costly furniture to fall into decay. Suddenly all this was altered.. Life and light reigned again. Startling was the transformation. Within a few short weeks the House of White Shadows had b'come the centre of a chain of events in which the affections which sway mankind were displayed in all their strangest variety. At a short distance from the gates, on this dark nigbt, upon the rise of a hill which commanded a view of the villa, some times stood, and sometimes lay, a man in the prime of life—not a well-looking map, nor a. desirable man, and yet one who in his better days (for it was clear tbat he and good fortune were not ,on the best of terms) might have passed for a gentleman-even i now he might with the aid of fine feathers, have reached such a height in the judgment of those who were cot given to close obser vation. His feathers at the present time were the reverse of fine—a sad fall, for they had been once such, as fine birds wear—no barn-door fowls, bnt of the partridge qua lity—so that between the past and present condition ot the man and his garments there was something of affinity, as for the man himself, he was tall and well shaped, and he bore himself with a certain air Wbich in the eyes of the vulgar would have passed for grace. Bat his swagger spoilt him, and his sensual mouth, which had begot a coarseness from long and unres trained indulgence, spoilt him, and the blotches on his face spoilt him. His handg 1 were still well-shaped, and rings wonld have looked well on them, if rings ever look well on the hands of a man, which may be doubted. As he stood, ot lay, his eyes were for the chief part of his time fixed on the House of White Shadow*. Following with precision? bis line of sight it would have been dis covered that the point which claimed his attention were the windows of the Advo cate's study. There was a light in them, bat no movement. " Yet he is there," mattered the man, whose name was John Vanbstet, "for I see his shadow." His sight unassisted would not have en abled him to speak with authority upon this, but he held in his hand a glass, which brought the villa nearer to him, and he saw by its aid what would otherwise have been hidden from him. "His company has gene," continued John Vanbstet, " and he has time to attend to me. I have that to Eell, Edward, which it is worm your while to purchase, Every hour's delay increases its price. It must be near midnight, and still no sign. Well, I can wait—l can wait." He had no watch to take count of the time, which passed slowly, bat he waited patiedtly nevertheless until the sonnd of footsteps approaching in his direction diverted his attention. They came Dearer —nearer, until this other wanderer of the night was close upon him. "Who the devil 1" he thought, "has taken it into bis head to come my way ? This is no time for honest men to be about." And then he said aloud, for the intruder had paused within a yard of him, " What particular business brings you here, friend, and why do_ you not pass on V ■ A great sigh of relief escaped the breast of the new-comer, who was none other than Gautran. With the cuff of bis shirt he wiped the perspiration from his forehead, and muttered in a grateful tone, " A man's voice—That is something to be thankful for."

The sound of this muttering, but not the Words, reached Vanbrugh's ears. "Well, friend?" said Vanbrugb, who, being unarmed, felt himself at a disadvan tage- "Well?" " A re you meditating an attack upon me ? It will be time and labour—and talent— thrown away. lam not worth it, I a'sure you. If you are poor, behold in me a brother in mi>fortune->-Go to a better Market." "Idon't want to hurt you." " I'll fake your word for it.' Pass, on, then. The way is clear for you." He stepped aside, and he observed hat Gautran took step with him instead of from him. "Are you going to pass on?" asked Gautran— " Upon my soul, this is getting amusing, and I should eujoy it if I were not devilish • angry—No, lam tot going to pass on." "'Neither am 1." Vanbrnnh found this sufficiently perplex in?. •" in the name of the father of mis chief," he cried, "what is it you want?" ~ "Company," was the answer, "till day light ; that is all. You need not ba afraid of me." • ■■ ■ ■

'" Company ?"exclaimed Vanbrugh; "mv company?" h J

''Yours, or any man's.somethinc human. And you must talk to mo; I'm not going to badnven mad by silence." " You are a cool customer, with your this and that. Arc you awaro that you are robbing me ?" "I don't w.int to rob you." " But you arc—of solitude, the possession most valuable to me, the only possession, indeed, I cuu c ll mine, am] you appro priate it. Come, no further fo^iin" : leave me."

"Not till daylight." "There is something scriptural in your resolve. Let me have a better look at you." He laid his baud upon Gautran's shoulder, and the man did not resent the movement. Vnubrugh had been in Geneva durin« the day, and had made an attempt to enter tho Court-Honso but he was unsuccessful. Therefore—Gautran being otherwise a stranger to him—he did not recognise in tha face of the man he was now looking at as the prisoner whose trul for murder had caused so great an excitement.

1 Jf lam any judge of human nature," he said, "which I claim to be, you are in a bad way, I toke it. From a social point of view, you are a ruin, a very wreck of re spectability, If your lines ever crossed in that dirocioii; in which respect, I, who once was a gentjeman aud am still, cannot deny that there is something of kinship be tween us. This confers distinction upon you—upon me d sgrace. But wo must take the world as we find it—a v'lla<nous world, a cursed bad world.—What siy you?" "A damnab'e world? Go on talking." "I am willing to humour you for just as long as it pleases me." Yanbrujih stood with his face towards tho House o£ White Shadows, watching for the signal he had asked tho Advocate to give him. Gautran facing the man upon wheui ho had forced his company, stood, therefore, with his back to tho villa, the lights of which he had not yet seen. " Onr condition may be borne," conti nued Vanbrugh. "with greater or lesser equanimity so long as wo feed tho body, tho quality of our food being really of no great importance; but when the mind is thrown off its balance, as I see by your eyes is the case with you, tho condition of the man becomes serious, What is it you fear ?'

" Nothing human." " You you are at war with society ?" " I was, but I am a free man now."

" You have been in peril, then—plainly speaking, a gaol-bird. What matters? The world is apt to bo censorious. 1 find no fault with you for your misfortune. Such things happen to the best of men. It has happened—you will hardly believe it— to mo. But you are free now, you say, and you fear nothing in human shape. Wbat is It then, you do fear ?" " Were you ever followed by a spirit?" asked Gautran, in a hoarse whisper. "A moment." said Vanbrugn, "your question startles me. I have been deli cately nurtured, reared in the very lap of luxury, and my nerves are constitutionally tender. I have about me two mouthful* of an elixir, without wh eh life would not bo worth the living. Share and share alike,' He produced a bottle containing about a quarter of a pint of brandy, and saying, " Your health, friend," put it to his lips. Gautran watched him greedily, and when he received the bottle, drained it with a gasp of savage satisfaction, " That is fine, that is fioo," he said, " I wish there were more of it."

"I echo your wish, and that is the ex tent of my power. Mow we can continue. Was I ever followed by a spirit ? of what kind ?"

"Of a woman," replied Gantran, with a shudder.

"A dead woman!'1 " Aye, a dead wdmaii—one who was mur dered."

3 A look of suddenly and newly awakened intelligence flashed into Vanbrugh's face. He placed his hand again upon Gautran's shoulder.

'•A young woman," he said. ">*ye," responded Gautran, " Fair and beautiful." "Yes." " Who met her death in the river Rhone." \ "Aye—it is known to all the world." " One who sold flowers in the streets of Geneva, and whose name was Madeline." The utterance of the name coujuredup the phantom of the murdered girl, and Gautran, with violent shudders, gazed upon the spectre. " She is there, she is there I" he muttered, in a voice of agony, " AVill she never, never leave me ?'

The words confirmed Van brush's smpi cion. It was Gautran who stood before him.

" Another winning card," he said, in a tone of triumph, and with a strange smile, " The man v guilty, else why should he fear ? Vanbrugh, a life of case is yours once mote. Away with these rags, this money-pinch which has nipped you for years. Days of pleasure, of luxury, are yours to enjoy. You step once mere into the ranks of gentleman. "What would the great Advocate in yonder study think of this chance encounter, knowing—what he has yet to iearn—that I hold in my hands what he prizes most, his fame and honor."

Gautrail heard the words : he turned and followed the direction of Vanbrugh's gaze.

" There is bat one great Advocate, the man who act me free. He lives yonder, then I"

" You know it rogue," replied Vanbrugh, " There are the lights in his study Window. Gautran, you and I mnst be better acquaia> ted."

But he was compelled to Bubmit to a postponement of his wish, for the next moment he was alone. Gautian had dis appeared.

Chapter XXI,

A BATTLE WITH CONSCIENCE.

Alone in his.study, the Advocate had time to review his position. His first feel ing, wben he listened to Gautran's con fession, had been one of unutterable horror, oad this feeling was up n him when he entered the villa. It had been his intention, after exchanging a few necessary words with bis wife, and with Arthur Balcombe, whose arrival he had expected, to retire at onco to his study, and reflect upon this new and horrible turn in the case of Gautian. It would have been easy for him to iirid an exevse for withdrawing himself from tha society of his wife and his friend. His in tention was frustrated by tbe unexpected presence of guests in whose eyes bis absence would have appeared strange. This it was imperative to avoid; he recognised the im portance of not drawing upon bim-clt and his movements any uuu-ual attention. He was therefore compelled to remain with his guests, and take part in a conversation which added to his difficulties. Bad he been silent; he might have laid himself open to injurious construction. From his out ward demeanor no person could bjve gassed how terrible was his inward ftgijta. tion. Self-repression was in him a second nature. The habit of concealing hjs thoughts had been of incalculable in his profession, and had materially assisted in many of his great victories." • But now he was alone, and when he had locked his study door he threw off the mask. He had been proud of this victory; it was the greatest be had ever achieved, He knew that it would increase his fame, and that it was an important step in the ladder it had been the delight of his life to climb. For, cold as he. appeared, and apparently indifferent to success, his ambition was vast, overpowering. His one great aim had been not only to achieve the highest dis tinction while he lived, but to leave behind him a name whicn would be placed at the head of all hfs class—a clear and unsullied name, which men' in after times should quote as a Symbol of the triumph of intel lect. It was the sublimity of egotism, con temptible when allied with intellectual inferiority and weakness of character, but justifiable in his case, because it was in association with a force of mental gifts little short of marvellous. In the exercise of his public duties be had been careful nevec to take a false step. Before he committed himself to a task he invariably made a study of Its minutest detail; conned it over and over, strioped it of its outward aspect, probed it to i:s very heart, added facts to it which lay npjb oijlyu within the region. of probability,. bjtf possibility; and the result had been tain

his triumphs were spoken of with wonder ment, with something almost higher than human, aud within the capacity of no other man, It had occurred that tho popular voic3 > was against the cause he espoused, but it was never raised against him, and, perhaps, the sweetest record whicli was ever b.stowed on him, was when, in an unpopular cause which ho had conducted to victory, it was afterwards proved that the name wai an offence—was in honest truth a victim instead of a wronger. This had so f '•equontly occurred that it had grown into a fashion to say, "He must have right on his sido or the Advocate would not defend him" ■ Here, then, was a triple mllianco of justice, tiuth and humauity—and ho the vindicator and upholder of right. In another sphere of life, and in time when iho dragon of oppreision was weighing heayilv upon a people's liberties, sirh achievements as his would have causett the champion to be worshipped as a saint—cer tainly ai a hero imbued with kingly quali ties

No man ro*lly deserves this aptitude though it be sometimes reached. Human nature is too imperfect, its undcr-currents are not sufficiently translucent for Truth's face to lie reflected as in a crystal. But we judge the deed, nut the doer, and the man is sometimes crowned, tho working of whose inner life, were it laid bare, would shock and disgust. It was when he was at tho height of his fame that the Advocate met Adolaide. Hitherto he had seen but littlo of women, or, seeing them, had passed them lightly by, but there comss a time in the lives of most men,'even of the greatest, when they are abruptly arrested by an iufluence of which they novor dreamed. Only onco in his life had tho Advocate wandered from tho path ho had formed for himself; but it was an idle wandering, partly prompted by a small and unworthy desire to prove him self, of two men, the superior, and ho had swiftly and effectually thrown the folly aside, nevor again to bo indulged in or renewed. That was many years ago, and had beon long forgotten, when Adelaide appeared to him a star of loveliness, which proved, what few would have believed, that he had a heart,

Tho new revelation was to him at first a source of infinite gladness, and ho yielded to tho enchantment. But after a time he questioned himself as to the wisdom of this infatuation. It was then, however, too lato. Tho B£ell was upon him, and it did not lay in his power to remove it. And when|he found that this sweet pleasure did not —as it would bavo dono with most men —interfere with bis active duties, nay, that it seemed to infuso a keener relish into their fulfilment, he asked himself the ques tion, why not ? In tho f implo prompting lay the answer.

lie poas:s3ed an immen-o power of cou centration. With many subjects claiming closo attention be could dismiss them all but tliu one to which it was nocossnry he should devote himself, and after much self communing he satisfied hiniself that love would be no block to ambition. And in deed, so it proved. Adelaide, dazzled by the attention of a man who strove so high, accepted his worship, and, warned l>y friends not to be exigent, made no demand upon his timo which interfered with his duties. He was a devoted, but not npan sionate lover. On all fides she was con gratulated- it gratified her. By many she, was onviod—that delighted her; and she took pleasure in showing how easily she could lead this man who lo all otber womon. was as cold as ice. In those days it was out of her own vanity aud thirst for con quest that she evoked pleasuie in the as sociation of her name with his. After their marriage he strove to interest her npon which he was eagaged, bat dlscover iog-tUat her t.aitns dirt not lin In-, that >)i rectiou he did not persist iv his endeavour. It did uot les.-en his love lor her, nor her hold UQon him She was to hinvou %his nieht as she had been all through, a sweet affectionate, pore woman, who gave to him as much love and honour as a much older than herself could reaaonablyexpect. Some. thing of what has beeu here expressed passed through liis mind as he reflected upon the events of the day. How should he deal with Oautran'a confession ? Thit was the point he debated. When he undertook the defence he had a firm belief in the nun's innocence, He bad stated the case exactly as he had conceived it—vile, degraded, brutal, without a redeeming feature ; but not tho murderer of Madeline, the flower giil. Ho reviewed the case again carefully to see whether he could have arrived at any other conclusion. He could not per ceive a single defect in his theory. He was justified in his own eyes, He knew that the entire putlic sentiment was against him, and that he had convinced men against their will. He knew that iheie was im ported into this matter a feeling of resent ment at his successful efforts to set Gautran free. What, then,fluid induced him to come' forward voluntarily in defence of this monster? He asked the question of him self aloud, and he answered it aloud—a reverence for justice. It consoled him somewhat, He had not indulged in self deception when he declared to Gautran'e judges that the leading principle of his life Inii been a desire for justice in small matte's as well as great, for the meanest equally with tho loftiest of his follow creatures. Teat it did not clash with his ambition was his goodfortune. It was not tainted because of this human coincidence. So far, then, he was justified in his own estimation.

But he mnst bo justified also in tho eyes of the world—and here intruded the torn uring doubt whether this w-re possible. If the made it known to the world that Gaatran was guilty, the answer would bo, "We know it and know it, as we {believe you yourself did white you were working to set him free. Why did you prevent justice being done upon a murderer ?'' Bat I be lieved him innocent, he would say; only now do I know him to be guilty. Upon what grounds ? would be neked. Upon Giutran's own confession, given to me alouo, on a lonely road, within an hour aftot-the delivery of tho verdict. He saw the incredulous looks with which this would be received. He put himself in the place of the public, and he asked, " Why, at such a time, on such a spot, did Gautran confess to you. What motive had ho? You are not a priest, and the high road is not a con fessional." He could supply to this ques tion, no answer which common-sense would accept, arid say that Gautran was questioned, as ho would assuredly be, he would deny the statement point blank. Liberty is sweet to all men. Then it would be one man's statement against another's. He would be on an equality with Gautran, re duced tv bis level; and in the judgment of number* of people Gautran would have the advantage over him. Sides would bo taken ; ho himself in a certain sense would bo placed upon his trial, and public resentment, which now was smothered and would soon be quite hushed, would break out against him. Was he strong enough to withstand this ? Could he arrest the fnrious torrent which would set towards him, .could be overcome if, could he drive it back, and stand unwounded on the shore, pure and scatheless in the eyes of men ? He doubted. He was too profound a student of human nature not to know that his fair fame would be blotted, and that there would be a stain upon bis reputation which would cling to the last day of his life. Still he questioned himself, should he dare it, and brave it and bow his Jiead ? Who humbles himself lays himself dp^n to the blow, and men arc not merciful when the chance is ofl'ered to them. But he would and,;clear in his own eyes his, con science would approve. To none but him self would this be known. Inward ap proval hts sole reward, his sole compensa tion. A hero's work, however. For a moment or two he glowed ot tho contcmpla -1 tiou. He soon cooled down, and with a smile, partly of self-pity, partly of self-dig pisal, proceeded to the calmer consideration of the matter.

The meaner qualities came into play. The world did not know. What reason wa-91 iere that he should enlighten it to his owninjuiy? The secret belonged to two men, to himself and Gautran. It was not likely Gautran would blutt it out to others ; he valued bis liberty too dearly. So that it was as safe as though it were buried in a deep grave. As for the wrong done, it was a eilent wrong. To ruin oneself for a senti ment would be madness ; no one really suffered. The unfortunate girl waa at rest. She was a strangerj no person knew her,

or was interested hi her, except tot her beauty. She left no family; no father, mother, or sisters to mourn her cruel death. There was certaiuly the woman spoken of as Pauline, but she had disappeared, and was probably in no way related to Madeline. What more likely than that the elder woman's association with the younger arose out of a desire to t-ade upon the gM's beauty, aud appropriate thu profits to her own US3. A Iliac vie.v of the matter, but natural human. And luviug roiped a cer tain profit out of their trado iv flowers, larger than was suspected, the crafty woman of thu world had deliberately deserted Madeline, and left her to her fate. Why, then should he step forward as her avcDgor, to tha destruction of the great name he had spent the best fruit* of his mind and the best years of hi 3 life to build up ? To think of such a thing was Quxotism run mad.

One of the threads of those reflections— tnat which forced itself upon him as 4 the toughest and the most prominent—was'con tempit for himself lor permitting his thoughts to wander into a current so base. But that was his concern; it affected no other person so long as ho chose to hold his own counsel. The difficulty into which he was tluugod was not of his seeking, Fate had dealt him a hard stroke ; he received it on hiti shield instoad of ou his naked body. Who would say that that was not wise? What otuer mau, having the option, would not have done as he was about to do V

He bad not alone himself to consider, Tho (happiness, tho peace of mind of the woman ho loved were lv his keeping. Jf he fell, she fell with him. Ho had no right to inflict humiliation upon her. "Cunning sophiiit, {canning sophist," his conscience whispered to him, " think not that wan dering in these crooked paths of reasoning you can Bud the talisman which will trans form wrong into right, or remove tho stains which will rest upon your soul,"

Ho answered his "To none but myself is my [soul visible. Who, then, can see the stain i"

" his conscience replied—"God."

"I will conies* to Him," he said, "but notto'nian."

"There is but one one right courso," his conscience said ; " juggle as you may, you know there is but one right course," 111 know it," ho said boldly, '• but lam east In human mould, and am not strong enough, heroic enough, for the sacrifice you would impose upon me."

"Listen," said his conscience, "a voice from tbe grave Is calling to you." Ho.heard tho voice—" Blood for blood."

Ho stood .transfixed. '.-The-images raised by that silent voice were appalling. They culminated in the impalpable shape of a girl, with pallid face, gazing sadly at him, over whose form seemed to bo traced in the air tho lurid words, " Blood for blood 1" God's decree

The vision lasted for but abiicfspaco In the li£;ht of his strong will such airy terroru could not long exi-t. Blood for blood ! It once held iudis putablo sway, but thero uro great and good nion who look upon tuo fullilmout of the stern decco as a crime. Mcroy, humanity, and all bigbor laws of civilization were on their nido. But ho could not quite stiQo the voice.

Ho took another view— supposing that be yielded to the whispering of his con science—cay that, braviug all the conse qaeneßS of his action, he denouueed Gau trao. The man had already beoa tried for inarder, and could not be tried again. Set this a-.ide. Say that a way had been dis covered to bring Gautrau again to the bat of earthly jus'ice, of what value was the new evidence tbat could be brought against him. His own bare word—his recital of an interview ot which he held no proof, and whicn Gautran's simple denial would be sufficient to destroy. Place this new cvi dance he himynlf. li.-irf natablished in nrnnf of GautroVs innocence, aad it became a featherweight. A lawyer of mediocre at tainments would blow away such oviden.ee witU a, breath. It would injure only him who brought it forward. Ho decided. The matter must rest where U was. In silencj lay safety. It was not probable tbat In and Gautran would ever meet again. There was siill another argument in favor of tlii« conclusion. The time for making public tbe horrible knowledge of which he bad become po.'sossed was past. After ho had rcceivod Gautran's confession ho should not have lost a moment in com municaiinawitU the authorities. Not only had he allowed th>j hours to clip by with out takiog action, but in the conversation initiated that evening by Pierre Lamont, in whicl he had joined, ho had tacitly comniitttdjh inaelf to the countenance of a belief in Guuiran's innocence. He faw no way oat of the fatal construction which all who knew him, as well as a 1 who kuow him not, would place upon this lino of con duct. Ho had b:cQ caught in a trap of bh own setting, but he could bide his wounds. Yes—tbe question was answered. He must preserve silence. 1 his loDg self communing.had exhausted him. He could not sleep, tie could neither read tior study. His mind required relief and solaco in com panionship. His wife was doubtless asleep: ho would not disturb her. He would go to his friend's chamber; haply Balcombe would be awake, and they would pass an honr ia sympathising converse, Ualcombe had asked him, when they bade each other goodnight, whether he intended immediately to retire to rest, and he answered tbat lie had much to do ia his study, and should probably be up till late ia the night "I will not disturb you," Ualoombe had said, " hut I too, am in no mood for sleep. I have letters to write, and if you happen to have need of society, come to my room, and wo will have one of our old cbats." as ho quitted the study to seek his friend, the soft silvery chimes of a clock [on tbe mantel proclaimed the bour. He counted the strokes. It was midnight.

Chapter XXII, GAUTHAN FINDS A BEFTJGE,

When John Vanbrugh found himself alone,, he cried, " What, the devil! Tired of my company already t That is a fine compliment to pay to a gentleman of my breeding. Gautran ! Gautran 1" He listened, JSo answer came. "A capital disappearance," he continued, " in its way dramatic. The scene, tha time, alt aßrcoing. it dooa not please me. lam not used to be treated in this cavalier style. If I were not tied to this spot in the execution of a most important mission, I would after you my friend,and teach you better manners, He drank my brandy, too.the ungrateful rogue A waste of good liquor. A sheer waste. You get no more, frieud, withoat paying its equivalent." Vanbrugh in indulged in tills soliloquy without allowing his wrath to interfere with his watch; not for a single moment did ho shift his gaze from the windows of the Advocate's study. " Now, what induced him," he continued after a pause, "to spirit himself away so mysteriously? From the violont fancy he expressed for my company, I regarded him as a fixture, ouo would have supposed he iotended to stick to mo like v limpet to a reck. Suddenly, without rhyme or reason, and just as the conversation was getting interesting, ho takes French leave, and m iKes himself scarce. I hope he has not left his ghost behind him—the ghost of pretty Madeline. Not likely tbough. When a partnership such as that is en tered into—devilish unpleasant and incon venient it must be—it is not dissolved ff* easily. Perhaps he was spirited away wanted, after the fashion of our dear Lothiirio, Don Giovanni. There was no blue fire about, however, and I smell no brim stone. Wo, he disappeared of his own prompting; it will repay thinking over. He said his phantom, oven my holy pre sence, could not keep her from him. He murdered her-not a doubt of it—and the Advocate lias proved his innocence. Were it not a tragedy I should foci disposed to laugh. We were speakine of the Advo cate when he darted off. Hut you cannot escape mo, Gautran; we shall meet agaiD. An acquaintanceship so happily commenced must not be allowed to drop ; nor shall it, while it suits my purpose. At length, John Vanbrugb, you are learning to be wise. You iillowed yourself to be fleeced, sucked dry; and being thrown upon the rocks, stripped of fortune and the means to woo it, you strove to live as knaves live, upon the folly of others like yourself. But you were a poor haud at tae trade; you were never cut out for a knave, and you pulled through a succession of reverses so infernally hard as almost to break an honest man's heart. It is all over now. I see the sun. Bright days are before you, John—the old days

over again} but you Will spend your money moreprudßntly my lad} no squander ing ; cSxdct its value ; be wise, bold, deter mined, and you shall not go down with sorrow to the'grave—Edward, my old friend, if I had the liquor, I woJd drink to you— as it is '"

As it was, he wafted a mocking kiss to wards the House of H hite Shadows, and patiently continued his watch.

Meanwhile Gautran had not been idle, Upon quitting Vanbrugh, tho direction he took was from the House of White Shadows. Vanbrugh had observed this and was not aware that it had been done to deceive him. For while Gautran was at a safe distance from Vanbrugh, out of sight and hearing, he paused, and delibe rately set his face towards the villa. Be1 skirted the hill occupied by Vanbrugh, at. its biso, and walking with great caution, i pausing frequently to assure himself that he was alone, and not being followed, ar rived at the gates [of the villa. Ho tried the gates ; they were locked. Could ho climb over them? He would have risked the danger—they were sot with sharp spikes — had be not known it would take some time, and feared that somo per son passing along the high road might detect him. He made hie way to the back of tho villa, and carefully examined the walls. His eyes were acouatomed to darkness, and ho oould see pretty clearly ; it was a long time before he discovered a means of ingress afforded by an old elm which grew within a fsw yards of the wall, nil ihe far-spreading branches of which: stretched over the grounds. He climbed' the tree and crept like a cat along the stoutest branch.

{To be continued,)

ARCHIBALD FORBES.

War Correspondent.

CHOICE 'EXTRACTS.

.Revenge at first, though sweet, bitter ere long back on itself recoils,

Of all the riches that we hug, cf all the pleasures we enjoy, we caa carry no more out of this world than out of a dream.

The road to success is not to be run upon by seven-leagued knots. Step by step, little by little, bit by bit-that is the way to wealth, wiadom and glory.

When the Breton, mariner puts to sea, bis prayer is, "Keep me, my God; my boat is small, and Thy ocean is wide." Dees not this beautiful prayer express the condition of each of us?

We are not only pleased but turned by a feather. The history of [a man is a calen dar of straws. If the nose of Cleopatra had been shorter, said Pascal, in his brilliant way, Antony might have kept the world,

We are never without a pilot. When we know not to steer, and dar^ not hoist a sail, we can drift. The current knows the way, though we do not. The ship of Heaven guides itself, and will not accept a rudder.

As a wife was holding her husband's aching head in her hands one morning, she asked, " urea man and wife onej" " 1 sup. pose so," saia the husband. «TheD," re joined the wife, " I came borne drunk last night, and ought to be ashamed of my self." • . . L=J

During the rebuilding of an orthodox church in a Massachusetts town the society worshipped morning and evening in the Unitarian church, the building being occupied in the afternoon by the Unitarians. A visiting clergyman at the evening service, having called Upon the Lord to bless the evening and morning service, added : "And wilt thou bless as much of the afternoon;ser vice as thou approveat." #.**i.^Zi»>™& 1 ~*<-/* . ~,.^1 —r^is~~s The London Christian Life pronounces M. Pastour "the foremost of French scientists," anp it quotes him as saying : " He who proclaims tbe existence of an In finite asserts more of the supernatural in that affirmation than, existf in all the miracles of all the religions; for the notion of the Infinite has the twofold character of being irresistible and incomprehensible. When the notion seizes on the mind there is nothing left but to bend the knee."

A very pretty story is told of the mother of Rev. Dr, Cnyler of ;Brooklyn, who re cently completed her eightieth birthday at Saratoga, where Bhe has been spending the summer. She is too deaf to hear her son preacb, but every Snnday morning before church he tells her what he is going to preach about and gives her an outline of his sermon, and then ehe prays for him^ in her room during the hours of service. She was left a widow forty-five years ago, when her son was only four years old.

The following is told of a Saphir, a de formed Jew, who lived centuries ago in Germany. He wag travelling in a stage coach in company with two Jesuits, who made allusions to the personal appearance of Saphir, and were disposed to make fun of him generally. He put up with it tor some time, but finally he asked. " Who are you two fellows, anyhow?" "We be long to the Society of Jesus." "Which .society of Jesus?-his first or his last?" " What do you mean ?" "Well, his first Society were donkeys in the manger, and his last were thieves on Mount Calvary. i Now I want to know to which of those

a mispelled word may lead a whole gen eration off the tight track. { . " Nine tailors make a man," is an old saying, and a good illustration of our statement. To look down on the worthy profession of the clotb cutter because of such, a proverb shows a want of proper instruction, Iv the olden time, when a person died, the church-bell tolled once for every year the departed bad lived. But from the tolling of the bell no one could tell whether the deceased yeas a man or woman. To (satisfy public curiosity, perhaps, on that subject, the sexton, after tolling the age, gave ekht cjiiick strokes of the bell if the decease"was a woman, and nine if it was a man, and these quick strokes at the end of the tolling were called " tailers," because they were at the tail end of the whole business.... Hence the proverbs " Nine tailers make s man,"

■'■-am :In the debating clubs of German univer sities there is a rule prohibiting two kinds of argument from being used in discussion, Tlie one consists in saying, "I am very glad not to think as you do," and is called the spinach argument in recollection of a famous bit of reasoning once used by a lady —'■ I am very glad that I don't like spinach, because if I did I should always be having some for dinner, and I can't bear it." 'lhe other forbidden argument is that of reminding a speaker that he'has altered his opinion, and it is styled the apple formula, because an apple, being twitted of having changed its colour, is said to-have answered that" it is "only bad fruit that re mains always green."

The fallowing letter was written to General Graat in 1874: "It is with pleasure I take this opportunity of writing to you. lam well at present, hoping these tew lines will find you enjoying good health and prosperity. lam doing all I can for you in this locality and I hope and expect you will be oar next President of the United States. I would like to have an offis of sirellseing the Indians. What salary will you give me per annum please write to me and let me no. In fact I am in need of a litttle money at present. Will you please send me 600 or 1000 dollors ? Something ought to be done for the poor Indian, and I believe that I can tivelize them if you will give ma 200 or 300 per month it will doo,"

Proverbs About Women.

An old Spanish proverb expresses charac teristically the high-bred courtliness which was once peculiar to the race; ''The counsel of a woman is not worth muoh, but he who does not heed it is worth Bothing." In Puttenham's " Art of English Poetry," a carious and interesting work published at the end of tne sixteenth century, the author, speaking of the tender-heartedness of the female sex In general alludes to the com mon proverb: " A woman will weep for pitie;to see a gosling goe bare-foote." There must' have been a touch of real humour about the originator of this ancient proverb, ridiculing, but nevertheless loving, the pro digality of tenderness, which caused him such amusement. The preference generally given in the seventeenth century to the gray mares of Flanders over the coach horses of England gave rise to the vulgar proverb : "The gray mare is the* better horse." George Herbert gave the world many pro. verbs which are descriptive of the lives and qualities of " Empty chambers make foolish maids," a proverb presses a half truth ; for we are willing to believe that some very wise little maidens have grown.into woman hood like moorland blossoms, which only the grouse and the adder and the humble bee have looked on; but foolish is no doubt used there in its slighter significance of bashful, in which case the proverb ia of course a true one. "A fair wife and a frontier castle breed quarrels " reads like the si«h of some baronial benedick who fruitlessly thirsted after quietness in the weary ages of warfare. ' 'Milis and wives ever want" was no doubt the miserly con clusion of Eorae mediaeval Harpagon; one can almost recognise the snap with which it was uttered, in the laconic brevity of the phrase: " Who lets his wife go to every feast and his horse drink at every water, sballneifcherhavegoodwifenorgoodliorseß," to this day accordß with the sentiments ol many married men, Choose a house made and a "wife to make,"- said some stroDf; minded gentleman, who flattered himself that be had moulded the character of the girl whom he had married, who very pro bably all the while had gained entire as endaney over him in essentials by flatter ing his weak point of moulding her in non essentials. For that is a way these' dainty creatures have,





TTITCHENS'S* BLOOD* RESTOEEB. FOR CLEANSING, PURIFYING, AND • INVIGORATING THE BLOOD. Seven Years' Test in Auckland. fT^HIS Medicine differs from ordinary pro-' X prietary preparations, inasmuch as.it was the product of years of study and investigation by mi eminent physician of the Army Medical Staff, with whom Mi HHchens served daring the New Zealand : War, as Assistant Dispenser to the Im perial Forces* tin its introduction to the public as a specific for the cure of Rheumatism,' rheumatic uout, Scrofula, Skin Diseases, Blood Impurities, and General Debility, it. quickly attained great celebrity, and soon was sought after from every part of New Zealand, ■ . Its curative and depurative properties have been fully testified by the* numerous testimonials received by the proprietor from patients who had long suffered from the above distressing maladies, who had ap plied in vain to physicians for relief, and in whose cases, Turkish Baths, Hot Springs, and other popular remedies had been re sorted to without efi'cct. This celebrated medicine is compounded from products of the vegetable Kingdom, is . palatable and easily taken, mild, but effec tual,' in its action upon the animal econ omy-. It is, in sootb, a veritable BLOOD Bestokbe, cleansing it, and thereby, restor ing diminished vitality. It presents, un questionably, a purer, safer, better, and. more reliable alterative medicine than any that has hitherto' been available to- the ' people, MORK TESTIMONY! > Nota SURPRISING CURK To those who know what fcl itchens 1 Blood Restorer HAS DONE. In the Auckland BvrfinNa Stab of the 27th April last, appeared the following local, which explains itself :^- The brig Bella Mary, from Melbourue in . ballast, bound for Kaipara, put into har bour yesterday morning to. obtain medical', aid for Captain Owens, master of the vessel, - who has been very unwell during the latter part of the voyage; Captain Owens, who has followed the seafaring profession, for many year?, and had never until leaving Melbourne on April 10th last, suffered from illness of any severe nature, was suddenly seized on that date with violent pains in the back. Since then he has been swung up in a hammook ?^s^ff^alplra~^^6TrilJn^hTHßdayTast, but the weather being thick and foggy, it was deemed advisable to come on to Auck land for medical assistance. The barque arrived early yesterday morning, and Dr Moore having been sent for, visited Capt. Owens, and gave instructions to the mate of the vessel regarding treatment^ The invalid is^ suffering- from a species, of rheumatism of a severe nature, and the doctor considers it advisable to effect a partial recovery before attempting the re moval of his patient to more suitable quarters on shore. Capt. Owtns is well known in Auckland, and many residents will be sorry to learn of his affliction.".



Referring to above, Captain Owen has this day (Ist December), stated: "After being treated'for about five weeks by two medical men successively, with very little alteration in my condition, except that the pain in my hands and back was' made somewhat easier through the effect^of'thß galvanic battery,' I felt a. g'-adual sinking; that told me the dread cad was not far off, and one of my visiting friends Eugges'ted that I should try what Hitchen's Blood Restorer would do, as it was being so talked about far and wide. Without much" faith in it, I consented to try it,'bus did not notice any good effect until I had taken about the third or fourth bottle, when my appetite decidedly quickened,' and I felt that my strength was coming back to me. I then ceased to take the medicine, and allowed, nature to take its course, but. finding my appetite going, I stimulated it by email doses of the Restorer, using no other medicine, 'but applying the ointment freely. By degrees my whole system; seemed to be invigorated; and now, after a treatment of six months, I am able to re« smne charge of my vessel, and am only waitiug her. arrival in port to do to. I can easily walk four miles a day without the slightest inconvenience. I consider my friend's suggestion, saved my life, and that it is a duty that I should publicly testify to the extraordinary power of Hitchens's Blood Restorer over the severest cases of rheumats.. ism." w. M.OWE&;■;:.■ The agents will be happy to she^f original manuscripts of the several pub« lished testimonials anent the Eemedy,witn scores of others not yet published.; , L, D. MATHAN & Co. «»fE HAVE THIS CELEBRATED AND FAVOUBITB BBAND BASS'S ALE & GUINNESS'S STOUT Always in Stock. ■ L. D. NATHAN & CO. 1883-3 teas. ISS2 ~3 We have received oat SKCOjm SffIPMBNT by the Kisg&roouia, from Sydney, tnnftUPPM . ex Ganges. tff, 314(8 PACKAGES, Conatetiii? o' EX Tit A CffOICE K&ISOWS & CHOICE & MEDIUM CONGOUS Of neat twisted even loaf, and very strong »nd r Jc!i fl'iVJ uc, , " Alro 125 BOXES CHOICEST MANDARIN SCENTED UK ANGUS PEKOE. abova.wlih about 2000 PACKAGES OF FINEST QUALITIES (Balanco of First Parcel). ■ *ad ■ : v 300 PACKAGES OF ASSAM AND DAEJEKLIMGB, Suable us to offer s very Kiure Salcotion buyers. Our Foochow oorreapoßdonto Inform us His saven-tenths of last shiprjsont was scoured a EXCBPTIOHALLY CHEAP EATBS, And wa ere determined to give our clients th FUIIII BENEFIT OF THIS, L. D* if 1™" & G°