STAR SATURDA Y SUPPLEMENT.

AUCKLAND, N.Z., SATURDAY, OCTOBER 20, 18sb.

RANDOM SHOTS.

[By Zamiel.]

Some write, a neighbour's namo to lash, Some write—vain thought!—for needful cash, Some write to please the country clash, And raise a din. For me, an aim I never fash— I write for fun.

Xet me drop the motley for a moment ■while I pay a tribute to departed worth. Professor Denton, the American geologist, whose able lectures here were heard with delight by hundreds besides myself, is dead—Bay rather has gone hence—a martyr to scientific zeal, which is zeal for the wel fare of humanity. Attracted to New Guinea by the hope of being able to make fresh conquests in the domain of knowledge, he was attacked by a deadly fever, and has been called from this life to enter upon the grandest of all knowledge (and a subject which he loved to contemplate), an unfold ing of the future destiny of the human soul. I do not endorse all that he taught with so much eloquence, but his philosophy was at least pureand ennobling. He deserves recog nition for his straightforward, attempts to reconcile (not Genesis and Geology, for their reconciliation is complete) the two great branches of Science—the Materialistic and the Spiritualistic. His theory of a "Spiritual tendency" in matter presupposed a Spiritual Creator, and this was something to rejoice at in an age when even sections of Christians are found who sneer at the idea of the im materiality of man's soul. If his researches into material science have been cut short, is there not a pleasing fitness in the thought that he is now in a position to pursue, from ■a higher standpoint, his investigations into spiritual truths ? " Spare useful lives," is a prayer. I have frequently heard. As if •even One life shall be destroyed Or cast as worthless to tho void! So, though Denton's removal may seem a Joss, who shall say that it really is so? Usefulness does not cease with this earthly life any more than does consciousness. He who believed in "the soul of things " —in ihe power of inanimate matter to receive, treasure up, and convey correct impressions —shall ho be doomed to find all his hopes of eternal and progressive existence end in nothingness ? Shall he Who toiled, who suffered countless ills— Who battled for the true, the just, Be blown about the desert dust, Or sealed within the iron hills ? Scientist and Spiritualist, Farewell. I will not say " Rest in peace ;" but rather — "Rest not; go onward, upward, and for ward in those quests you loved so well— learning the lessons of this marvellous universe, and the mind of Him who is its seul." ■

XXX It may not be generally known that ever • since he left Auckland Mr Ponton had been busy with inves tigations in the soi-disant and occult science of psychometry. As probably vory many of my readers nave never met with the term before, it may be as well to explain that it is used to designate a class of quasi spiritualistic phenomena of a very peculiar kind. The believers in it claim that every inanimate object in nature preserves a re cord of its own history, and an uninterrupted chronicle of every incident and occurrence that has transpired in its vicinity, and that there are people in the world endowed with the faculty of obtaining from any such object this record or chronicle in a close series of vivid pictures presented in exact chronologi cal sequence. Mr ftenton, I understand, has been in regular communication with a number of psychometrists living in various parts of the colonies, and with the object of publishing some volumes on the pre-his toric condition and state of Egypt and Great Britain, he has kept them employed in tracing the antecedents of curios and fossil remains from those countries. These facts possess a local interest from the circum stance that this band of psychometric inves tigators includes a quiet and very respect able old gentleman residing in Auck land. No one would suspect him of a, taste for antiquarian lore or archreologi cal research and indeed he makes no pre tension nor con lay any claim to literary taste or ability, and yet the ac counts he gives in halting speech of the things he has found out by psychometric power would astonish a savan. He amused mo a few days ago with an explanation 6f the manner in which the huge stones of the Pyramids were got into position and the colossal work carried on ; interested me with a circumstantial statement of the pomp, ceremonial and domestic habits of the Egyptians ; and at other times has recited strange descriptions of the pristine loveliness of New Zealand and the semi tropical aspect of Great Britain, all the de tails agreeing with the course of scientific speculation. I cannot think that he is such a deepandupscrupulous old party as to lend himself to deception ; it is possible that he may be a victim to some un accountable illusion ; but the whole sub ject affords food for serious reflection. It inclines one to endorse Hamlet's declara tion :—

There are more things in Heaven and earth, Horatio, Than are dreamt of in your philosophy.

Readers of my lucubrations will by this time have arrived at the conclusion that •"Zaraiel" is a philosopher of the peripa tetic order. Nomadic by nature, noctam hulationa are my chief delight, and in the ■course of these nightly ramblings I pick up the particles of metal which, smelted in the crucible of my mighty intellect.subsequently iurat, meteor-like, on an astonished world in the shape of "Random Shots." A few ■Wednesday evenings ago, noticing lights in the Baptist Church, I strolled in and took a seat in a shady corner. It was a " baptism " night, and a considerable number of persons had assembled to witness the immersions. The first two or three candidates went through the cere mony without anything extraordinary hap pening. I was just beginning to frame a mental resolve to adjourn for some more fruitful field of observation, when I noticed a young country lass, who was amongst the spectators, pressing forward to obtain a better view of the dipping tank. She soon .reached the edgo.of the font, and I was just groping for my hat when I heard a shriek, aud lo ! and behold I saw the girl disappear into the tank, heels uppermost. The dea cons fished her out, and the sisters were drying her in the vestry when I left. '

I have been asked to express an opinion of a modest-looking brochure which has just issued from the Auckland Press, under the title of "No JMore Mystery—Look to the Sciences," by "Torpedo." It would, ol course, be very easy for me to dismiss it

with the contemptuous comment, "I have no opinion of it at all;" but such is only the method of the would-be smart, can't be-clever, and shallow-pated critic, and therefore not the method of " Zamiel." I have carefully perused "Torpedo's" book, and though I cannot say that I have been particularly surprised or pleased with his theories and deductions, I confess to a strong feeling of curiosity as to the possible contents of his next forthcoming work on " Man an Epitome of the Universe." And this not so much that I hope to find any thing verjr new or startling in it, but rather that I anticipate a lively interest in being introduced to a number of old acquaint ances in the shape of fanciful, not to Bay fantastical notionsof men and things, which have been held and promulgated by eccen tric geniuses in all ages. That, I confess, pretty nearly describes my sensations on reading "No. 1" of the "No Mystery" series (rather suggestive, isn't it, of " the mysterious Number One?") The book proves "Torpedo" to be an amateur scientist with a turn for original thinking, and who it a fit subject to illustrate the adage that "a little learning is a dangerous thing." Such a one I formerly corresponded with— a retired naval officer in England, who had re-discovered the old truth that the earth was flat, and the sun only thousands instead of millions of miles distant from our planet, which truths he was prepared to demonstrate by geometry and mathematics, and explain Ehilosophically in a stupendous work which c was writing "On Space." That men otherwise well-learned and intelligent should hold strange views of the science of the universe is, therefore, by no means un precedented, and " Torpedo " may consider himself in very good company when he looks over the list of these men. Did not the great masters of ancient philosophy believe our earth to be the centre of the* sys tem of which we now know it forms but a fractional part ? Did not Bishop Berkeley hold that matter had no real exist ence ? And has not Professor Wiggins, in our own day, discovered that storms on our planet originate in the wide inter-planetary spaces, if not among the fixed stars ? Of course, all that is so ; and I have even read of more deluded people who believed in the Philosopher's Stone, the Great Carbuncle, and the Elixir of Life ; and I further recol lect a scientist (whose name is lost to me) who made the brilliant discovery that our sun was neither more nor less than nn enormous block of ice! This latter theory was advanced as plausibly and defended with as much learning as any of the others ; and when I say that I examined it with the same amount of care and impartiality as I did the discovery of the naval officer already referred to, it will be conceded that I am well qualified to deal with "Torpedo's" scientific treatise. What are his views ?

In one word, " Electricity," the key-note to the new science is obtained. The author speaks of this "in a very broad and general sense ;" he holds in short, that matter is simply condensed_ olectricity—that eloc tricity is the beginning and source t f all things—the substance of which the Creator formed the universe, and by which ho keeps the heavenly bodies revolving in space. Gathered around this central doctrine, ho to speak, there are a number of minor truths, such as that electricity, and not combustion, is the source of the solar light and heat; that " there is no such thing as nothing;" that " Electricity was never mado by man ;" that " Electricity in itself is cold, and only when it is set in motion it becomes hot by the rapidity of its motion and consequent friction that is brought about," and othor similarly important facts. (Rather a good idea of a streak of greased lightning—that it has " becomo hot by tho rapidity of its motion !") What I especially admire about " Torpodo " is that ho is not at'all dogmatic, as too many scientists aro ; he does not attempt to prove his statements either by figures, logic, or analogy ; and the reader is spared all tho annoyance of having to disprove his theories if he happens to disagreo with them. Says "Torpedo "in his introduction, " Although I do not pretend to bo in all things abso lutely correct, I do nevertheless write what I honestly beliovo to bo true, and it is not for me to prove a negative; thoso that think lam wrong let them prove it." This is absolutely delicious, and I do not know how easy I should feel if all authors were satisfied to base their teachings upon thoir personal honesty and conscientiousness, and not upon hart! facts, tough arguments and other disagreeables.

Space will ■ not allow mo to notice other suggestive features of the book (it can be had for a " Colonial Robert," so is within the reach of all), such ns the inquiry into the nebular theory, the other side of the moon, the possibility of man visiting other planets, and the like lihood of Mount Eden bursting out in volcanic eruption. In addition to thin, there are "Plashing Thoughts," which read for the most part like extracts from the literature of modern Spiritualism, all fitted to awaken thought and stimulate inquiry. The inquiry which is stimulated in my case is this: Is not the title of the book a mistake? "No More Mystery" professes to be its aim; but it seems to me that the "No" had better bo struck out. From beginning to end it is mystery upon mystery. On the front cover there is a quotation from "one of the greatest of men," whose name for some mysterious reason is withheld. On the back of the title page there is an extract from the works of "that man of thought, Bovee Dodd." Who is Bovee Dodd? — more mystery ! Passing over the oontents pro per of the work, and coming to an explana tory note at the end, I find it, too, deals with an unexplained "mystery," the in cognito of the author; and last of all, I ccc from the fly-leaf at the back that "Tor pedo " has discovered a motive force, which is no other than that mystery of mysteries— the Perpetual Motion, which he is willing to make known for the small sum of £500. I commend the book to the lovers of the mysterious; it is in many respects a moat creditable work, but it is not a scientific one, though I hope it may have the effect of causing those who read it to " Look to the Sciences." . XXX So Mary Anderson, niece to New Zea land's most excellent friend and admirer, Consul Griffin, has declined an in troduction to the Prince of Wales, alleging as her reason that she desired to avoid scandal. This is rough on " Wales," as the Americans delight to call him, and some folk will be disposed to say manifests a little prudery on the part of Mary. But when you .come to look at it a minute or two, you will see that Miss Anderson has played the part of a sensible girl,anditis not "Wales,"butAmericanlove of a spicy Btory,she condemns by her reserve. We must suppose that Miss Anderson felt her own virtue secure enough against the

charms of the somewhat obese and rakish Heir - Apparent : thoreforo, what Mary was afraid of was not any real cause of scandal in her modest courtesy before England's future King, but she knew that the busy tongue of slander feeds not upon the truth, but on any well - concocted fiction, and she knew also how every trifling personal incident is exagger ated Dy American newspapers to feed the depraved appetite for scandal. Mary Anderson might have been introduced to Royalty in England with perfect security to her good fame, but she, no doubt, is the best judge of how far hor well-deserved reputation for beauty, talent, and untainted virtue, would sustain her good name with her countrymen under the announcement of her admission to the Royal favour. I believe however that the whole story is a Yankee yarn; the Prince of Wales was on the Continent when the pretty American actress opened her London season. Mary Anderson is one of the most accomplished and successful artistes of the day. Her professional career has been one continuous record of suc cesses. In America she never fails to crowd any theatre where she engages to play ; and, though a very young lady, she has amassed a very large fortune, keeps a luxurious steam yacht, and owns a large amount of valuable real estate. Withal, the whisper of scandal has never soiled her fair fame; and that, in America, is saying a good deal. XXX

One of the most curious instances of the American love of a spicy piece of personal gossip is the avidity with which the papers seize upon and embellish every bit oi news abouttheQueenandthelateJohnßrown. We should naturally look for anything authentic on this subject to the English Press, but the scraps which one comes across occasionally in his English papers aro trivial compared with the fullness of detail with which the American penny-a-liners, who write London letters in Chicago and other leading cities of the States, pourtray Her Majesty's overwhelm inggrief over theuntimely death of her faith ful gillie. I am among those who regard John Brown as a very much maligned individual. He had made his way into a position coveted by the very highest nobles of the land. Every office around the Court is hold sacred to the poor relations of the aristocracy, and the favour bestowed by the Queen on this faithful servant was gall and wormwood to the arrogant aristocrats and haughty dames with whom he was constantly coming into collision. The hatred which his presence created is reflected in the bittorness of tho attacks made upon him, and even the Queen did not escape slandor. If John Brown had been the gowk his detractors mako out, ho could not have- hold his place and treated his enemies with that rough Scottish inde pendence which excited their ire. No doubt the Guelph obstinacy helped him, —tho very fact that there was a set mado against him being enough to increase the Queen's de termination to protect him and have her own way. It comes with bad grace, howovor, from democrats to join in tho hue and cry against John Brown, anil to perpetuate the contemptuous references to his humble origin, which aro jwintlcss to anyone but » tuft-hunter. Brown's paronts wore not lords or dukes, but they wore a.s honest Highland farmers as can be found in tho North country, and Brown's staunch PresbyterinniHin probably commended him to tho favour of the Queen as much as nny thing eleo. There is tho spirit of innate flunkoyism and toadyism about these derogatory allusions to a man's origin. Tho genius, that has illumined tho world has come moro from tho poor than tho wealthy, and that notwithstanding tho difficulties of tho former and tho neglected opportunities of tho hitter class.

I have a word or two of which to deliver my indignant soul respecting the Solon who drew up our postal regulations. By tho 'Frisco mail I received from a friend at Homo a small magazine bearing upon tho wrapper in printed characters tho ominous legend, "Deficiency, Id; line, id." The parcel carried a j>enny stamp, but it rc ?[uired a twoponny one ; anil for this drcad ul breach of tho law I was amerced in a fine of fourfold severity iih compared with tho amount of tho delinquency. Now I suppose the imposition of tho iino was in tcnaivj tO'bo of a punitivo and deterrent character; but upon what principle is the punishment meted out ? Thcro may possibly bo some reason in fining tho porson who infringed the regu lations, although, porhaps, it is not very apparent; but to imi>oso the penalty upon tho innocent recipiont of a very unaccept able missivo as a dun or threatening letter, for instance, is surely opposed even to the crudest and most primitive eoncep i tions of justice. Let tho post-office authori ties amend the orror of their ways, then, in good timo. The case I havo advanced is not sufficient with which to arouse an out raged community to the necessity for a cleansing of tho Augean stables of wrong doing within the Civil Sorvico, but still it embodies a reprehensible practice. I com mend tho matter to M r Biss's notice, and advise him to fbrbear the oxtortion of iniquitous fines in future.

One of the most pious men in this city of ours was sadly victimised tho other day. Ho had purchased half-a-dozen membership tickets of the V.M.C.A., and determined to present them to the most deserving of hie employes. The first young man he tackled —a neighbour of mine by the way—is quite a "hard case," but the religious character of the firm compels him to adopt a thin veneering of hypocrisy. "George," said the good man, "I have determined to pre sent you with a quarterly ticket for the Young Men's." George looked a little as if he had just taken a mouthful of vinegar, but with a mighty effort he pulled himself together and thanked his employer effusively. "I will be only too happy to go, sir, when I have time," he said. " Let me see. Igo to the Arch Hill Bible Class on Monday evening, Tuesday the Salvation Army claims my attention, Wednesday I have to escort my sister to Mr Spurgeon's prayer-meeting, Thursday choir practice, and Friday—let mo see— what the dcv—no, sir; I mean on Friday I learn book-keeping, and all my spare time on Saturday I give to devotion." Then he took a long breath and offered up a silent prayer for forgiveness. "Well, George," said the master, "I don't think it will be any use giving you the ticket. Your even ings seem pretty well employed. Keep on believing," and he moved on to find a young man with more time on his hands. On Saturday George received an increr^a in his salary, and on the'strength of it in dulged himself with a ticket in a sweep on the Cup. Mai de iner is, to my mind, one of the most distressing ills to which the human

flesh is heir. It is the more distressing because the victim feels, in addition to the material discomfort of the disorder, an alarming loss of dignity. There he lies on the broad of his back, pale in the face, parched in the throat, uncomfortable in the stomach, and ready to part with his vitals at the very mention of soup. That any human atom liable to the terrible disorder of sea-sickness should have the temerity to joke about it seems scarcely' credible; and yet, in the course of his chequered career, "Zamiel" has met irreverent beings who occasionally joked about {he weakness of their stomach. The first is Johnny Hall, the well - known comedian. I met him on the Queen-street Wharf some years ago, just after his arrival from Sydney. " What sort of a pas sago had you, Mr Hall ? Were you sick ?" I queried. "Sick," replied Johnny, "I threw up breakfast, dinner, and tea; I was so sick, indeed, that I very near threw up my engagement!" Tho second irreverent joker is Mr '' Josh" Pickersgill, of the "Innocents Abroad Pantascope." He used to tell a very funny story about a sea journey ho once had between Melbourne and Sydney. Amongst the passengers was Mr Bagot, secretary of the Victoria Racing Ciub, and botli Pickersgill and the sports man believed themselves to bo the champion sea-sick men of Australasia. A suggestion that they should have a match to decide the championship was eagerly taken up by both. Crew and passengers took great interest in the edifying contest, Bagot, who was as bilious as a bandyeoot, being made a hot favourite at six to four. The contest started just outside Port Phillip Heads. Both the contestants performed frightful feats of sea sickness, but before Sydney Heads were in sight Bagot was compelled to retire, and his opponent came in an easy winner. I did not ascertain the rules that guided the participators in this re markable contest; indeed, I did not care to ask ; I merely repeat the story because it appeared to me to be a wonderful instance of the facility with which some people turn their woes into sources of profit if not of pleasure.

XXX

I think I am safo in saying that there aro but few among my oxtensivo circlo of readers who have not either seen or heard of Abraham Moore, otherwise known as the "Lancashire Lad," who was ono of the pioneers of the Salvationist movement in Auckland, and whose simple and unpolished discourse and quaint sayings havo ofton been brought to bear upon the solect audiences at the Temperance Hall. Abraham was romoved to another sphere of operations further south some months ago, and since his departure ho has boon tho hero of quite a little romance, which has led to his retire ment from tho "Colonial Forces." Under ordinary circumstances, I havo a decided objection to assist in tho circulation of that class of goasip which embraces any kind of scandal, but in this instance I am conscious of tho fact that there aro' ninny of Abraham's friends to whom tho most recont chapter in his career would bo "nows indeed," and who would never for givo mo if I were to withhold from them a story in which thoy would bo even more interested than "Zamiel" hiniHelf. Taking everything into consideration, I am con vinced that it is ray duty to mako my readers as wise on the subject as I myself am, and believing that thoy will not botray the contidonco which I am about to repose in them, I will proceed to communicate tho story. xxx

When Abraham arrived in tho southern city, his mind was filled with thoughts of conquests over souls stooped in sin, but subsequent oventH provud that his troubles were to be in connection with female hearts, and not sinful souls. Amongst tho maidens who worshiped with tho fold over which Abraham presided was one whoso charms of mind and porson were said to be con siderable. Abraham was earnest and simple, but he was also possessed of human foelings, and while ho gavo out tho "next hymn" and kopt his weathor eye on tho collection, his faculties for tho recognition and appreciation of female beauty were also fully alive. It is therefore not surprising that this youthful Adonis should havo been charmed by this pretty Hallelujah lass, that his wanderingeyo should occasionally etoanco upon tho learning glances from her beauteous orbs, occasioning delightful sensations in tho bosom of each, and that h« should invariably exhibit a preforenco for her company on the walk homo after tho service. Thus it would appear to have hap pened, and the courtship, which was scarcely likely to bo retarded on Abraham's part l>y tho knowledge that his inamorata was an heiress, progressed wonderfully. But a stern Nemesis was at hand. Tho rules of tho service provide that cadets shall not "court" for a period of two years, and Abraham was thus violating the terms of his holy apprenticeship. He was called upon by his superior officers to relinquish his "mash," and ho unconditionally refused. Troubles threatened, and Abraham, faithful to his new love, seceded from tho Army. His charmer was, however, not bo faithful, and whon sho found that her Adonis was no longer Lieutenant Abraham, sho actually jilted Tiim, and remained true to the ser vice. Poor Abraham endeavoured to find solaco for his lacerated feelings in tho work of establishing a new Army at Oamaru, of which ho was to be Lieutenant, but it didn't " gee," and now he is endeavouring to earn a living as a labourer. Thus has the mighty fallen.

Exactly His Case.

A good story is told of a certain Bishop, who, from information received, felt it his paramount duty to remonstrate with one of his clergy for hunting; and so the reverend Nimrod was expostulated with by his chief.

" Well, yojir lordship," was the reply > " I think you will agree with mo that not a little generalship is required in the manage ment and marshalling of our pleasures, and I really don't see that it is any worse than going to a ball." "I conclude," rejoined his lordship, "that you allude to having seen my name among the list at the Duchess of M 's ball; Dut I assure you I was not in the same room with the dancers during any part of the evening!" "That, my lord, is exactly my case," was the calm rejoinder; "I am never in the same field with the hounds !"

Can a man marry his deceased wife's sister in any part of New Zealand?— Not unless the sister is willing, and as a general thing she isn't. She knows him tod well. It is stated that 1,000,000 cattle have died from the plague in Russia during the last four years.

SELECTED POETRY.

A HATTLE FIELD.

On yon deserted fields, Whcro trampling nrmies strove, Kind Nature softly heals The wounds of warfare with the wine ollovc! She scatters blessings o'er the plain Whoro bright-oyed daisies grow, |rain, And decks the valo where blood ran down like Years, years ago. There rustle raaidona bond, And gazo through memory's tenrs, And spring's first offering blond (years, Wltli saintließt revorencc, o'er nnsculptur'd And bless Hwcct Mercy's sovereign hand, O'er manly hearts laid low, [father's land. That Knapped the soourgo Unit cursed their Years, years ago. Now Commerce spreads her wings, And Peace her sway resumes, And virgin Beauty Bpringß From broken skulls in scented roscato blooms; And blitho birds pipe their merriest songß 'Mid smnmor'B genial glow, . [wrongs, Whom Death's dark banner waved o'er ghastly Years, years ago. Thus Nature wins us hack To homo and friendly bowel's; And o'en the blood-stain'd track [dowers, And soldier's grave with golden moss she And soothes the hearts of those who pine— Whoso burning tears still flow— For miseries wrought at War's polluted shrine, Years, years ago. John 13lack»:.-.>.

"THE PRIDE OF BATTERY B."

South Mountain towered on our right, Far off the river lay, And over on yon wooded height, We held tho lines at bay. At last tho muttering guns were st illcd, Tho day died slow an' wan. At hist tho gunners' pipes were filled, I |Tho sergeant's yarns began. When, as the wind a moment blew Aside tho fragrant Hood, Our briorwood raised, within our view A little maiden stood. A tiny tot of six or sevon, From llrcsido frosh she seemed (Of such a littlo one in Heaven One soldier often dreamed). And, as wo stared, her dimpled hand Wont to her curly head In gravo saluto, " And who nrc you ?" At length the Sergeant said. " And wherc's your home?" ho growled again. She lisped out" Who is me { Why, don't you know—l'm littlo June, Tho pride of Battery 11." "My homo? Why, Unit was burned away, And pa and ma are dead, And bo 1 rido tho guns all day, Along with Corporal Ned. " And I'vo a drum that's not a toy, A cap with feathers, too; And I march beside tho drummer boy On Sundays at review. " But now our "baeca's all give out, Our moi»can't have their smoke. And so they're cross—why, even Ned Won't play with mo and joke. " And Uio big Colonel said to-day (I hate to hear him swear). He'd g'vo a leg for a good pfpo, Like tho Yanks had over there. "And so 1 thought whon night had come And tho big guns wore still, I'd creep benoath tho tent and como Out hero across tho hill; "And bog, good Mister Yankee men, You'd give mo some tabac; Plf.aseHol when toe get some again I'll surely Mug it bock." " Indeed I will—for Ned"—says he— " If I do what I say, I'll bo a Gen'ral yet niaybo, And rido a prancing bay 1" Wo brimmed her tiny apron o'er; You should have heard her laugh. As each man from his scanty store Shook out a gen'rous half. To kiss tho littlo mouth stooped down » A score of grimy men. Until tho Sergeant's husky voice Said "Tcntion Squad!" and then Wo gave her oscort, till good night The pretty waif we bid, And watched hor toddle out of sights Or else 'twas tears that hid. Her tiny form, nor turned about A man—nor spoke a word, Till after 'while a far hoarse shout Upon the wind was hoard. That's all, save when tho dawn awoke Onco more the work of Hell, And through tho sullen clouds of smoke The screaming missiles fell. Our General often rubbed his glass. And marvelled much to soe. Not a singlo shell that whole day fell In tho lines of Battery B,



NEW STOKY r By the Author of " The Leavenworth Murder." IN NEXT WEEK'S "SATURDAY SUPPLEMENT" Will appear tho Opening Chapters of a Cleycr Sensational Story, entitled, Tx r H V , 8 z I A STORY TOLD BY A DETECTIVE. BY THE AUTHOR OF "THE LKAVKNWOKTII JIUHDEE," "A .STRANGE DISAPPEARANCE," " THE SWORD OF DAMOCLES," ETC. OPINIONS OF THE PRESS ON WORKS UY THIS AUTHOR: ---" Wilkio Collins, in his best period, never in vented a more ingeniously constructed plot, nor held the reader in mich suspense until tho final denouement,"—A r. Y. Ex})rcss. " Sho has proved horsclt as well able to write an intcrostiiiß story of mysterious crime as any ninn living."— The Academy (London).



* This rceitation is frequently given with grfiat effect at the Savago Club dinnera by Mr Fer nandez, the actor.