STAR SATURDAY SUPPLEMENT.

AUCKLAND, N.Z, FEBRUARY 24, 1883

Cromwell at Home.

The Kcv. I'nxtnn Hood, who has written many intereHins and instructiva books foi tne peojle, hns just i»sue«l a blogrnp.hy of of Oliver Cromwell, from v.hieh we ex'ract a sketch c( the gicat uu^lisliniau'a home life : -

Tho ninuarchs and inastira of minkiiid i have s iJoiii been ablo to abkl-j ihu Furutiuy ; (ostoiV'.it upon Uiiir home- ami iii>;sldo. It i« tin! uiont domittul of all tcc-ts by which to eximtne a man, aid e-peciaily agrmtniai - a man whom tho world has claimed, whose tin.c and talents have Ucu placed at the world's disposal ; n mm irritated hy <;.<»• tond'tig faculties, who has been compelled to appraise nieu asd theii motiviM, and f e ([iiently to apotaiso tltent very lowly. W hen vj follow jiif :i a man from th- camp lud the Oabii:ef, :\iv' are abk1 to behold a fouMain ;t fitHhiu'.-?. piayius through the hnino

.-oughts of tbo man, to soe a perennial /rconm.H cbout bia life, ami lu;J wilo :vil and children, we <?ec!n to have applied the lust test by which to nt'.cnip' to umlestanil iiis character, Wow.it nrgit bo thnucbt ■ hat Cromwell's character luid liul lit lo li^iue life iv it. Vc'- ie never chain;iM ;it opens lio'ine us in his south, and n hcauii ful fioshutas and iill'octi.iii apecan to pUy about it until thecloio of bla care r. Tliqio is something like an answer to the charges of bia early v.i!duc*s and licentiousness in the fuet that hu wedded such a woman as Elizabeth Boucher, the daughter of a wealthy, knight, possessed of tstat-s in tissues ;'for the conpatit of puch a wife is almost a security fr.r tlio cimracter of her husband. Truly affecting ii tlic imaginary >;pec'ac!c F 80 easily conjurod up, of Crorn wc'l ami his bride standing I y tlio alUr of at, Giles's Church, Oripplrgatc, the chunsli which will by-atid-by to icceive thebodvof his friend and secretary, John Milton, The soft hand <"f Elizabeth—the rough, strong hand of Oliver, the hand holding that little ono i:i it-, rmsd, was to deal deathblows on battle fields : it was to sign a monarch's death vrarraiit ; it was to qmsp the tnin clieon of loyalty and power ; it was to fold the purple of sovcrisjuty <.ver the shoulders ; it was to wave back an olfcrcd crown ! That frank but strongly-lined fuco, so youthful, yet prematurely thoughtful: aud that kind ami gentle cruttnrc, face >o face before him—"hrough what a c-owd of vary ing eh in«es .shall it sonow and smile ; in a lowly bo'iiesteid, directing tho work of maids and churls; iv a palacrs and a court, among nolilcs and sngncious statesmen ; and auain, in silence aud obtcnri'y ; and shining with the s-inio f<(uaMc lustro through all. Beautiful KHzabnih Douchcr ; so humlilf, and yet no diguili d. 'J hose who knew lier have not nc};loctc:d t<> iufortn usi that sho ww a-i exoellcnt housewife, descending to the kilc'irn with n.s much propriety as s'iu ascended to her lofty sta tion. How sho shines in contrast with llrmrii'tta tha Queen of Charles I. Wai she fitted to /ill a throne '! Her name must not ba included in the biographies of ibe Qucous of England ; and yet, perh.ips, not one among tho queens coosort more, truly deserves there a chronicle than she.

Gluttony.

Tub Emperor Cloilius Albinus often ate above a bushel of apples at once, aud for his broalifii.it would swallow twenty pounds of grape*, tea melons, four hundred oysters, a hundred pi aches, and five lmiubcd figs. hi the time of Charles 1 , a birriatcr named Mallet awa'lowed a diuuer provided for thirty men, Fuller mentions one Nicholas Wood, a man belonging to Harrison iv Kent, who »to, at ope time, a whole sheep, raw ;at another, thirty dozen pigeons. For his dinner ho once ate eighty-four labbiis ; for breakfast cif;hleeu y.:rds of black pudding. Once lie at<; a IiOi; nt a sitting, and liuislmditolt'by thrro pecks of damsons. Dr. Morton, in the "Philosophical Trims actions," for 17-15, vol. 43, relates Iho ease of a boy who swallowed, iv tix nieces ive days, oS-ilos, 2oz. of provisions, bread, meat, bucr, &« , or Gllbs. a day on an average. Dr. lSurrows, in another volume, 22ud, the ciae of a patii'.ut who was all'edcd by wcirnis, and tor scvcr.il days together ate o. log of mutton at ;t meal. Dut one of thu most rcuiHrkublc examples is that of a mau called Xarsire, who diod at Versiilo'i about the you ISOD, ;i;;.'d twbuty-s;x. W.ien only tevenleeu years old, he could o;if, in twenty-four hours, v quarter of a bullock, weighing lOOlbs , which washi^ own weight, His would eat seipaiits, bnakts, culh, and other ' animals, a'ud in a few miuutos liuislied oil'the dinner prepared for litie.n German laboui ere. T!u: c s<j a-i related by ML. Percy, is rattier sickeniug in its details. It may be .said that the above cases are not 'genuine gluttony, but depraved appetite; lin reality -y is nothng clao, just as dipsomania or exesssive drinking is another form of the same.

COUSIN ALFRED.

1 Manuscript Found in an Old

Escritoire,

]!v Ma.uy Kyle Dallas,

It is a Btraugo story. I shall Dover tell it while 1 live- -this story of mine; but por h ips, after 1 am gone, some one who lives after mo will like to read it. They might luvu thought me mad, or bcliere me given to falsehood : but wheu they see ibis paper, yellow wiih time, and signed by oue who no longer dwells ou oaith, they will take the tain as I mom il.

TUi.ro may be somo ixplanation of it— fome natural explanation — only it hasnover been given io me, That; \vh eh happoued cuuiu and pasacd like tho vision of a dream, and only tbrco were coguiz-iut of —my in 'ther, my father, aud 1 myself. 1 was named Marjorio Franklin, and I w.'S born ut Newport, over cghty years ago. Theio I lived until I was seveutcen. It was hoc a fashionable watering place as it is now, but it had its little aristocratic cire'e, aud it was very lively - a place to remember always.

1 had had every advantage that a young lady of that day could bavc, and I was al waya taught to remembrr that I Bhould somo day take my place at tho head ot an rlrgantestsblishmeut—tha'oneday I should bu uo longer plain Miss, but My Lady, for I was betrothed to my English cousin, whom I had never seen, and who, as tbo e'dust son of a (load peer, bad inherited his title as well as his estate npon coming of age. 1 had heard that my consin was huad sumo ai.il talented, and I had no fear that I should not be happy, although I had never sewn him ; and as toe time approached ou which his visit was to be expected, f»r he was coining soon, and to stay until wo were muniud in this laud of mine, X felt much tho sort of light-hearted expectation with which I had looked forward to my first patty. I had boon told that marriago was a girl's dcaliny ; and to me it meant only a fino weddiug and an admiring bridegroom. I hud uo doubt my bridegroom would admire me, for my H'ass told mo tbat I was petty; ami uogirl doubts that sho may beloved. The day of my cousin's visit dicw near apace. Wo knew he was to Fail in tho next vessel that left lor New York. At that time there wero no steamships, and tho dute of the arrival of a vessel wan problematical ■ However, ho would come—l never doubted that. My Avardtobe was re plouishcd ; I had robes of all tho high blight colours that became my brunette beuu'y; I had laces and bucklos, glovrs, fans and comb-1, chains and ribbon?, ker chiefs and sorts ; and when 1 had triad all the tilings on, and surveyed mysolf often in tlio glass with my hair dressed iv twenty dill'wcut styles, I louged for my future husband's coming chiefly that I might wear all this u'uery. livery day I examined the lutter-bai! fur the letter wbich should tell of tho O.spicy's arrival, aud tbat of my titled Gou?iu with her. But thtj vessel was de layed ; the winds had been unfavourable ; and though sho was ovoidue, nothing was yet hoard of her. We s;it together, my mother, my father mid I, iv the garden one evening The air was clear, tho twilight still liugeied, though the mo n hid iisen. We spoke of tho Oupr'uy. ' Mauy a gallant yes-el has been wrecked,' m'hi my fattier. ' Seldom have summer storms been so cruel. I Bball be glad to have news that the thip that comes to us is •afe.1

' UoJ g'antit,' answered the mother.

' And bring ray Cousin Alfred safe to land,1 said I. ' 1 aui lired of waiting for biin.'

' Jhe Ospcry is safe,' faid a voice at my elbow. ' She is in port.'

I turned with a start. We all arose to our feet, A strange young gentleman

stood bcforti us. He was as beautiful as the Apollo Bclvidoro, and as pale as the marble fioni which (hat statue is curved, tie smiled, it was a sad smile, lie bowed 1 ny, aud seemed to wait ior some one else to speak. 1 You bring news of the Oapcry. . Tuon you arc—' heuan my mother. ' Let mo call myself what you'called me a moment ago,' interrupted ttic gentleman, turning towards me. ' Let rue 'say I am Cuusm Alfred.'

Afterward wo all remembered a strange thiug. Our warm and courteous greetings wore all In words. There was no hand shakiug; no touch of auy kind. He vaa the sou of my mother's, sifter; but she did uot kiss him, in* did ho kiss her. ' But how did you ojme ! Where is your lu^g.igo V a«k'cd my futhor, iv a little while. '1 neither heard wheels nor the stamp of a hoivc. My dear nephew, how did you mausge to ojhio upon us so tud dcnly?1' My coiisiu laughed. It was not a gay laugh. ' i'hut is my little secret. I will puzzle you with it.for a while,' ho said. 'At present confers that you do uot know whether I dropped from the sky, or came (bating through tile air. 1 felt too auxious to ace my coudn, my betrothed wife, to wait—to be brought—in t'ae regular fa^ilou.'

He had made a little pause before ho said 'to be bfou;',h'.' He made another after it, aud I saw him shudder. 1 Arc you cold, cousin ?' I a«kod. ' All but my heart,' ho answered. 'And you must ba weary,' said my mother, 'and hungry, too. 1 will have supper prepared at ones. Meanwhile come indoors. My dear toe may like to sit outside heic, but pcihapa our guest may not.'

' Certainly, certainly.' responded my father.

lie tteppod forwawl as ha spoke, aud pushed open thu long windows that opened the drawing-room to the verandah. 'Come, iv,' lie said. ' Como indoors, nephew.' At that moment my mother called him, St;e nueddd the Kfya of the wiuc cellar, and his aid iv the choice of the wine ; and he •left ua. ' .

'Come to, Cjusin Alfred,' said I.

'Ooutiu Marjorie,' he answered, 'do not a*k mo indoors. The evouiugia too beauti ful. Conn; with me. AVillyou not walk with iuu ttiirt once uudor tho moon. Yon are not afraid of me, are yon, Marjorie ! Beautiful, dulicate, dniuty creature, bride for n king, do not fear me. Tnere is no need. There is no need.'

I langhud a little. ' Why should 1 fear you ?" I asked. ' You aro no stranger. I have always heard of you. 1 will walk with you {,'ladly.' We set forth silo by side, lie did not offer his arm, aud I was too shy to wish that he would. Yet it seemed odd that ho did not. I eaid to myself, perhaps it is not the custom of the cvuutry.

I walked beside- him. I looked down, lie looked at me. We passed from the garden, aud turned toward the beach, and came at last to tUe ruins of the old building, over which there had been so much talk lately. Then we Ciillcd it tho old mill, i drew his attention to it. ' They say it is centuries old,' said I. " And so many lives have run their course iiutl ended in the tomb, while those stones 'still remain,1 he said, sadly, ' Man dies', and tne-jc insensate things oulla't him Yet, while he lives, what a glorious ihinj! to be a man !' lie paused Ilia eyes glittered iv his buautiful white face. 'Think of mo, your cousin Alfred— youug, strong aa a giaut, ricb, powerful, and with you for his olid.-. You, you brifjut young thing, thiiik ot a man like that, with, all before him he knows not whither.'

His ylauce, his voice, his words frightened me.

"Cousin Alfred, are you ill?" I asked, •Perhaps we had better go home.1 'You .'.'hall «o home,' answered my

cousin, 'you sweet, young living thing._ I see fear in your eje. You trerunle. Give me a moment more. It is so sweet, love, here—on earth, under the moon—with you and lovo. And you have all life before 'you ; give me one moment more.' ' My beautiful cou-in. is entirely deran ged,1 I said to myself. 'Indeed 1 am afraid of biro.' But I held my peace. Suddenly he bent towards me, 'I have not yet saluted you, Marjorle,1 !'c taiii, ' May I not kiss yo.ir hand, I 5 ojt betrothed husband ?' Ob. his soft, fad voice 1 i let him take ir.y (iiiKHrs in his own, and ue bent and pi'ostcd hi1, lip- to thorn. As he did t-o I fels no touch of human llcjli end blood, but through ail my frame thrilltd strange clctric Hushes, I could not speak or stir, but as I stood, turned a« it seemed, tn stone, I saw the beautiful form before mc gradually fade away. It did not move from the ppot where it stood, biUevftua-j I regarded it I saw it change Into a white vapor aud slowly melt into the air. I knew no more for hours. Then I was aware that they bad borne me into the house and restored me to myself, and I lay on the gn-at chintz-covered sofa trembling with tho mtsruory of what had pissed. Out in the dsrkness beyond the win dows, the servant* went to and fro with lant.rns sinrching vainly for the man who had come and goin; so strangely—for none believed n.y stary. But now there was board the clattor of a horse's hoofs ; a man alighted at the gate, a»ked for my father, and wus showu into our presence. ' A seafaring man, tall and btouzed, wear irjg a look that spoke of no good tidings He took the seat otTered him, and addressed my father : 'Sir, I am the second mate of the Osprey, anri I comr: to you with evil tiding, I re gret to bring them, but have no choice.' ' Proceed, sir,' paid my father. ' Jhe 0.-iprey hns im-t with some disaster V , Ne, sir.' repliod the s dlor. Ihs Osprey is in pore, uulurmed by all the evil weather she has encountered on her voyaue ; but when she sailed she had on boird a pas senger, a young nobleman, who crossed the ocean, it was said, to visit his uffianced bride, The name and titlu recorded on onr books is—Alfred, Lord Hardinge, My father bowed his head. 'My wife's nephew,' he said, ' and be trothed to my daughter.' 'Sir,' contiaued the sailor, 'when we reiched port that noblernau was no longer with us. I must tell the tale. He was drowned in mid-ocean, swept overboard hy a great wave. We warned him of his dinger, but he would not remain below, He was brave and rash. The hour was mid night, i.c vanished iv the daikncss, and the black waters closed cvor him.' ' How loi.'g as;o did this happi-u ?' asked my father, in a faint voice. •A month ago,' replied the second mate of the Ospiey. Theu he drew from his bosom a miniature, set with diamonds.

'This,' he said, 'had been placed in our captain's care. If. was v> lio presented to his b.-idt\ Lord Alfred's own ponrait,'

I sprang frjD) my couch, and caught it from him, and I Raw the face that had faded into tho nir in the moonlight beside (be old mill. And I knew it was the spirit of ruy cousin that bad come to me. But^jc said nothing to tho honest sailor. Hotras well entertained, nnd went his way again. Aud we three kept our secret well. As for me, that ghostly kiss left by my dead betrothed upon my lips w'tw the only one that over touched them, Amen.

THE LATE ANTHONY TROLLOPE.

His Method ef Wovlc and

Income,

THE late Mr Trollopo w&a fo well known to colonists that I am sure the following oxcerpts from the obituary notices in the .London papers will be read with interest, Tho method by which Mr Trollopo con trived, within less than forty years, to pro duce tho euormous itinouin of work for which he ia so widely known lias hardly a parallel in the histoiy of letters, although resembling in some dsgroe the laborious career of Sir Walter Scott. Wo should premise that at an early age he was ap pointed to a clerkship in the Post Oflice, and it has pleased some of his readers to imagine that, under the character of Alaric Tudor—his own initials—lit) baa drawn, in his " Thr.no Clerks," a fancy sketch of him self and of what, under sligh ly altered cir cumstances, he migut easily have become. Be (his as it may, that he was a,u intense, energetic, imd, as the Americans-would 3ny, " whole-souled " official, uoue who can look bai;k some six or seven and forty yoars, and knew him then and since, would at tempt to deny. The department which he scivod so faithfully seat hi;u forth to con clude postal conventions with many foreign countries, and when at length his connection with the Post Office ceased, be carred with him into private life the respect and affection of his brother ollicialj, from tho oldest t > ihe youngest. Long befure the arrival of that event he had, iv Dryden's phrase, "commenced author," and (he fact that his* daya were mortgaged to official work may have led to those habits of writing in the early morning which he adhered to from the bcginniug to the end of his literary career. It was his custom, Vi hen icsiiuusf, let us suy, at Waltkam, to riso at half-past four, or, at latest, at live in the morning, and to go down to his writiug-room in his dressing gown, where, in cold weather, the fire bad been lighted for him by an old and faithful Irishman, to whom he was much attached, Mr Trollopc had a theory that it was affecta tion for a professional author to talk of being "en veive"—tint is to say, in the right mood—for his work. Hs sat down to write, mornirjg after morning, as, iv his own phrase. " a cobbler tits dowtv to make shoes." He was no believer in inspiration, forthcoming one morniug and denied to an author uoon another : and as for the " divine alllatus" of the poet, prose writers, ia bis opiniou, had no more to do with, it than a cow with conic sections. ,

Haviug written for four or five hourp, Mc rrollopc, if in the coun!ry, would go out— tho [morning being fiuo—iuto tho garden 'without changing his dressing-gown, and pall the heavy garden roller round the walks uutil his blood was stirred. Then he would return to his dressing-room, talte his hath, and dre^s for the day. As years rolled on, and his mcausi increased, he would .indulge in the luxury of huutinp, which pursuit he f allowed with characteris tic energy and iic;httieartedtiess. His many sketches of what " iNimrod " would have callod " The Chasu " are as refreshing and iuvigo ating as anything that ever came from his genial aod manly pen—wit ness his two essays 0:1 hunting, coutri bntcd to tho "'St Paul's Magazine," of which he was for a short time the editor, and his " Hunting Sketches " which ap peared in the "Pall Mall Gazette." Nor would it be easy for a determined opponent of field sports, like Mr Freeman, to breathe in the healthy and bracing atmosphere with which Mr Ttollope was girt about on every side.

This sketch of one of thci manliest," kind liest, and most genial of men -would be ill concluded without mention being made of the very substantial rewards realised by his patient aud incessaut latiour. Mi Trol lope will be found when the truth is made known, to have beeu the most successful and highly remunerated author of the nine teenth century, Fur at least twenty years he was in receipt of £4,000 a year, aud during tiie other twenty years, or little less, of his literary life be netted from £1,000 a year atjlhc commencement (o £3,000 a year at the close. We arc not aware of any other author .during thn present century who has made considerably more than £100,000 by his pen. If, however, as lias often been alleged, envy bo the .special fault of lueu of letter*, wo doubt whether Mr Trollope's extiaorcliaary success was ever re garded with the f;rcca eyes of jealousy by ono*single member of the If,torary craft. It needed but the most perfunctory acquaint ance with film to discern tint under the rough busk of his buist- rous exterior was coucealsd one of the truest, most sym pathetic, and teudenst or hearts • ia misery's darkest cavern known, His useful care was ever nigh ;' and to no appeal made to him in mercy's namo could, he ever turn a deaf ear,

THE HOUSE OF White Shadows.

By B. L. FARJEON.

AUTHOR Off " Blades ■o 1 - Crass," " Joshua Marvel,' "liraulund Cheese ami Kisses," " Gnf," " London's Heart," Sc, .Co., <tc,

riIAPTKII XXIX. SELF JI'oTIFJCATIO.X

THE slislit action and the sij^niiicaat quen tiou p-eseuted a coincidence so startling that 15 ilcombc was fascinated by it. That there was premeditation or den'gn in thii coiocidouce, or.that the advocate bad cuu uiualy led tbn cotivcsation to this point for tho purpose of confounding and bringing him face to face with his treachery did not cccur to his mind. He was indeed incapable of reasoning coherently. All that he was luonientf.riiy conscious of was that discovery was imminent, that the sword him;; over him, suspended by a hair. Would it fall, and in i's fall cunpcl into a definite- comse the conflicting passions by which he was tortured ? It would, perhaps, be batter so. Already did he experience a feeling of relief at this suggestion, and it appeared to him as if he were bending his head for the wel cuiuc blow. Hut all was still and quiet, and through, the dim mist before his eye* he saw the Advocate gazing kindly upon hiai. Then there stole upon him a wild prompt ing, a mad imp\ilso to expedite discovery l>j" his own voluntary act-to say to the Advocate. "I have betrayed you, Head that note beneath your hand ; take this key and open yonder door; liud there your wife, "What do you propose to do ?" The words did actually shape themselves in his mind, nnd ho half believed that he had uttered tlicni. They did not, bowevor, e-cape his Jips. Ho was instinctively restrained by the consideration that in his punishment Adelaide would ba involved. What right had he deliberately to ruiu and expose her ? A cowardly act thus to sacrifice a woman who in this crisis rel'cd upon him for pro tection. In a humiliating, shameful souse it is true, but none the less was she under his direct protection, at this moment, Self tortured as he was, he could still show that he had some spark of manliness left in him". Had he been alone he would have biaved the consequences of detection, but to rock les-dy dispose of the fate of the woman whose only crime was that she loved him— this he dared not do,

His mood changed. Arrived at this con. elusion, bis fear cow was that he had be trayed himself, tbat in some indefinite way he had given tho Advocate the Key to his thoughts, or that he had by look or expres sion conveyed to his friend a sense of the terrible importance of the perfumed note ■which lay open upon the desk. "You do not answer me, Arthur," said the Advocate.

But Balcombo could Dot speak. His eyes were lixed upon Adelaide's note, and he found it impossible to divert bin attention from tho idle movements oE the Advocate's lingers. His unreasoning impulse to hasten discovery had gone, and he was afllictcd now by a feeling of apprehension. It was his imperative duty to protect Adelaide ; while the Advocate's hand lay upon the envelope wiiich contained her secret she was not safe. At all ilsks even at the hazard of hi* lit *, rnnst slie be held blame less. ■ Had the Advocate lifted the envelope from the dtsk, Balcomba would have lorn it from him.

"Why do you not speak ?" asked the Advocate. " Surely there is nothing oflen sive in such a question between friends like ourselves."

" I can offer you no explanation of what I am about to eav," replied Balcombe, "it may sound childish, tiivial, pitiful; but my thoughts are not under my own control while your hand is upon that letter," With the slightest expression of surprise the Advocate handed lialcornbo the en velope, scarcely looking at it as it passed from his possession. That Balcombe wa? suffering mentally did not rseape his ob-ei vatiou, and if what was written within the envelope related to it, hia mental distur bance was not uuuatural.

"Why did you not ?p?ak of it before?" sa;d tho Advocate, "But wbou a mind is unbalanced, trilling matters ore magnified into importance." " I can only ask you to forgive me," said l!alcotnbe, piacing the envelope in his pocket-book, "1 have no doubt in the couive of your career you have met with many small iceidcDts quite as inexplicable," Then an excuse which would surely be accepted occurred to him. ''It may be sullicient for me to say that this is the first night of my return to tbe house in which 1 was born, and passed a not too happy boy hood, and that in this room my mother died,"

Tho Advocate pressed Balcombe's hand. "There is no need for another word, You have been looking over some old family papers, and they have aroused melancholy reminiscences, I should have been more thoughtful. I was wrong in comiug to you, It will be best to say good-night," Kut Balcombe, anxious to avoid the slightest cause for suspicion) said 'Nay, keep me a few minutes longer, or I shall reprove inyaeli. for having behaved un reasonably You were asking"— " A delicate question. Whether you love without being loved in return." "No, Edward, that is not the case with me." " You have no intention of marrying ?"' "No" "Then your heart is still free. You re assure me. You are not aufferi ng from what has been deecribed as the moat ex quisite of a'l himan sufferings—unrequited love. Neither have you experienced a dis appointment in friendship 1" " No. 1 have scarcely a friend, with tho exception of yourself." •' <\ud my wife1 lon must not forget her, SUe takes a cordial interest in you."

■'Yes, and your wife," "It was Jacob Hartrich who suggested that you might have met with a disappoint ment irf>!ove or friendship. I disputed'it, in the belief that had it been unhappily so, you would have confided in me. lam glid that I was right. Shall I coatinuc?' " Yes." •

" The banker, who entertains the most kindly sentiments towards you, based all his conjectures upon a certain remark which made a strong impression upon him. You told him you were weary of the gaiety and the light and bustle of cities, and that it was your intention to seek some solitude where, by a happy chance, you might rid yourself of a terror which possessed you, i can understand your weariness of tbc false glare of fashionably city life; it can never for any long pedod satisfy the in tellect. But neither con it instil a terror into a man's soul. That would spring from another and a deeper cause." " The words were hastily spoken, Look upou them as an exaggeration " " I will regard them in that light, but they w.re not an invention, and there must have beeu a serious motive for them. It is not in vain that I have studied your charac ter, although I feel that I did not master the study. I am subjecting you, Arthur, to a kind of mental analysis in an endeavour to arrive at some conclusion which will en ab'e me to bo of assistance to you. And I do not disguise from you that were it in my power I would assbt you even against your will. Our friendship, and my age, and moro vaiied experience, would justify me. Ido not s-eek to force your conlidouco, but I ask you iv the spirit of true friendship to con sider, not at pro eat but in a few days,when your mind is in a cihnor state,whether such cunnscl and guidance as it may bo in my power1 to.oflfi" will not be a real help to you, JJo not lightly lvjcct my assistance iv prublug a painful wound. I will use my kuife gently. There was a time when I believed there win nothing that cculd hap pen to either of us which we should be un willing to confide each to the other freely and without restraint. I find lam not too old to Ikii-h the lesson that the strongest beliefs, the liuneat convictions, may be

seriously weakened by the occuncnce of circumstances for which the wisot fore sight could not have provided. Ktop, then. your secret if you arc 50 resolved, and heir ill mind that iv the d;iy you come to me and say, 'Edward, liclp ""'; guide me;" you will (lad me rendy. 1 shall not fail you, Arthur, in nny crisis." I

.I'-alconu rose aiul slowly paced the room, while th'j Adviiniti s I, hte'e in hi? chair, and watched ! is (rleud \vi:.h aflc.c-ticuv.tc solicitude.

"Docs Ibis lossoiv' pres-.mUy said Uil conibi!, "which y;u uve nut too old to learn, i-jirim; oatirely from the newer im pn ss'toi a you are receiving of my character, or has something in your miad which you have not disislo.-j.id h liied to load you to it?"

It was a chance shot, but it strangely hit the mark. Tho question brought forcibly to the Advocutu's mind was the positiou in which ho himsi-Jf wiu plaaud by Gantran's crime. "What a web in the world I" he thought, "hnw the line.: which litre are widely apart, but a abort spaco hojoud crosi and ure linked in closest companion ship," 13 ith Arthur and himself h.tri some thiug to conceal, and it would b;i ac ing in bad faith to his friend word he to teHirn an evasive answer. '■It is not outirily from ths newer iiu-. pressious you speak of that I lam the lesson. It spring! p-mly from a matter which disturbs my miad " "Kcfoniug to me?" " No, to mydi-lf. You aro not concerned iv it." In his turn Baloombo now became the questioner. " A no.v experience of your o«n, iid ward?" " Yes." ""\Vtiich must have occurred i'> jou'siucc we were lust together?" " It occurred during your absence' " VYh'cU camo upon you unaware; for which your foresight could not have pro vided?'1

At all events it did not. It ceituinly CAMie upon me uuawaro." '• You speak seriously, Edward, and jour brow is clouded,"

"It is a very serious matter." "Can Ilk ]i you, Is it likely that my advise would be of assistance ?"

•'lean speak of it to no one I must keep it to myself."

" You, also, have a secret then.'

" Yes, I also have a secret."

Atther Balcotnbe appeared to gather strength fiom the singular directiou the conversation luvd taken. It was ns though part of a burden nas lifted from him, He was not the only one who was suffering, He was not the oaly ono wtio was standing on a dangerous brink. He wus not tho only o c who had drifted into dangerous waters. Even this strong brained man, this Advo cate who hail scemiugly htUl a'ojt from pleasure, whose days and nig'ot.s had baen given up to study, whose powerful intellect uould pierce dark inygti'iief, and bring them iato ckar liiiht, who was tiie last man in the world who could bo suspected of yield in" to a prompting of which his judgment and couscieuco could nut approve. Even he had a secret wh eh lio was guurJihg with jealous care. Was it likely, the;!, tiitit he, the younger and the more impiossionablo of the two, c uikl escape snares int<> which the Advocate had failed, The fat«li»t»' creed rccur.ed to him. All tho>o matters of life was pre-ordained. Wbat folly in v man. What wonc thau folly. What pre sumption fir one »'6«k nun to attempt to stem the universal current I It \>as i'e livertng bims>lt up to destruction, Better to yield and Host upon the auioolh tiile, and accept what pood or ill fate provided for him. 'What me to poison the sunlight and tho bilmy iirj and all the sweets of life by self-torture. The confession he had ex tracted from the Advoca'e was in :. certain sense a justification of himself. He would pursue the subject still further. As he had been questioned, so he would q tcstioti; it was but just.

"To judge from your manner, Edwrad, your secret is no light one." "It is heavy, Arthur, aud bard to l;o:ir." " I almost fear to ask a question whicb occurs to mo.'1

■ Ask freely. 1 have been candid with you, iv my desire to iscertaiu how I ooiihi helj> you in ) our trouble. Be cijujlly Cindid with me."

"But Jt may be miwinsiruel. lam ilmoot a'lifiincd that it should have sng gested itacjif for whicti, of course, the bifer part of me is ro-qiousiblo, Wo, it shall remain unspoken."

"1 should prefer that you asked it, Arthur. ay, I desire you to do so. ih.ro is no fear of uiisoonstrnetioa. Do you think I wi-h to stand in your rye* us ■■• perfect man? Th.>t would bs arrdgaut iiui.-i.ti - or ih.-.t I do.not know that you an.i sll men are filled with contradiction*? Tha ]>iu-o.h: of us—men and women alike—have undig nilimJ thouyh's, unworthy imaginings, to which vre would be loth to give utterance, But sometimes, as in this italanpo, it be comes a duty. I have had occasion nuite lately to quealiou myself closely, aud 1 nave fallen in my estimation. Thee is more baseness in me than I imagined, aod I am not always equal to noble action, You see Ido not placu myself above you. He-itaic no longer, Ask your question and as many more as may arise f:om it ; these thing* are often hydra-headed. I shall know how far to answer without disclosing what I desire to keep buried." Bilcombe put his question baldly, "Is the fate of a womau involved in your secret ?"

An almost fmpcrccpfiWb str.rt revealed to Balcombe's eyes that another cbaoce arrow had hit the mark. Truly, a woman's fate formed the kernsl of bis secret. A virtuous innocent woman who had been most fou'ly murdered. Be answered in sot words, without any attempt at evasion,

"Yes, a woman's fate is involved in it."

"Your wife's?" Had his life depended upon it, he could not have kept back the words,

" No /irihor, not my wife's," "In that ca«c," Eaid Arthur alowly, "A man's honor is concernod."

"You guess aright—it afl'ects my honor." For a few momenta neither of them spoke, and then the Advocate said, "Jo men suspicious of each other— ,19 most men natu rally are, and generally with reason-snob a turn in onr conversation, and indeed the entire conversation in which we have in dulged, m'ght be twisted to fatal disadvan tage. In the way of conjoctnro, I mean, as to what is the esscucu of tho secret which I do not reveal to mv dearest friend, and tho essence of that which my duorest friend does not reveal to me. It is fortu nate, Arthur, that you and I stand higher than most—we have rarely hesitated to speak heart to heart and toul to soul; and if by some strange course of events there has arisen iv each ot our inner lives a mystery which we have decided not to reveal, it will not weaken the fealing of affection we entertain for each other. It that so, Arthur !" " Yes, it is so, Edward,1' "Men of action, of deep thought, of slrong passion*, ofsonsitivc natures, are less their own masters than peaHantS who take no part in the turmoil of the world. An eventful life presents fewer temptations, and there is therefore moic freedom in it. We live in an atmosphere of wine, and often mis'! our way. Well, wo must bo indulgent, of each other, and be sometimes rofdy to say —'The position of difficulty into which you have been thrust, the error you hove committed, the sin, yea, even the siu of which you have been guilty, might have fallen to my lot had 1 boeil placed iv similar circumstances. It ia not 1 who will hi' first to conflcmti you.' ' " Even, said Baloombe, "' it that p'r.>r or that sin may be a grievous wrong iullic ed against yourself. Even then you would be ready to excuse and forgive ?" •'Yes, even ia that casa, I !>liouH bo tiking anairow view of an argument if 1 applied it to all the world, and had not the common fairucs to apply i; to myself." '■So that tho committal (>f a great wrong may be justified by cirr.unisitancOi" " Yes, ;[ will go us far as that. The fault of the child and tho fuuifc of tho man —>t is but a question of degree. Borne err deliberately, some are homed into error by passiona which master tliein." "By natural pasaioas,"

"AH passion i;s natural, although it is the fas-hiou to call certain aSpccta of it; un natural. The workings of t!!c moral and syrnpatheticatFect.iona aro frequently beyond our own'cont.rol."

" Of those who have erred with deliberate ■ntcntion and those who have beeu hurried

blindly into error which should you be most ready to forgive ?'

" the latter," replied the Advocate, on sewns (hat in hi* answer be was condemn ing himself; " they a> c comparatively inno ' cent, having less power over and bji'ng le;s able to roinu'O (heir steps." " You paus','' -aid Balcombr, a sadden (brill •':;it:i ing his veins, "Why;" " 1 t'li'ii^h1 f heard a sound, like a imp. | pn'-siw Jau ;li. fjil you not hear i ?" ; " N). I. board u.Uu.-ijr.1' But Ivj lied rii>j sound of ih-laugh w« low, bat dii tinct, find it proceeded from the room in 'which :h« Advocate's wife was conceak'l. Xi'U Advocate stepped to I hi: door by wlrch he huil tnturcd and loaked up and down tli.- pi.i-a.:>i, t> which two lamps gave ii.lit. it was quiet and deserted. "My fancy," ho said, standmu; within the l.nif-opon <I o>' "My pliysici >n know | nviru uf tlio state ot my uurvea thnu j do; niTself. lamwivn; in mixing myself up with that (rial," Still that tiitt— l.vay.f that tiial! 11 scorned to him as if lie could never lorgot i', as it is would forty.r abide with him, it coUiuvcd bis 'lmujjhis, it gave furui to hi<i arguments Would it cud by ehaugiug liisvury natu c. '• Vim are iiver-wrou^hi, EJnard," said Kalmuibe "if jou wor« to M)«k what I have Ri!ii;:ht >o'i u'c, it illicit be more bciulii'ial to. you th.iv it has bten to me."

" I hoi is solitude enough for nio in this r.fii.d vil'a^c," taid tUo Advocate, "and had I not undertaken iliu dcfcucc of Gnu tra'J, my health might have been com pletely established, \Y'e are here sulliciautly removed fioui tho fierce pus-ibus of the worlil—they cannot touch us in this primi tive l)ir,h-;liico < f yours. Do you recog nise how truly 1 sp >ke when I said that men like ourselves are the slaves, and pea sants the free men? Besides, Arthur, there is a me liuiuc in a friendship like yours which I defy the doctors to rival. Even though there has bica a veil over our coiili ienecH to-nii;l)t, I teel that this lost hour has been of benefit to me. As you well know, I am much given to thinking lo mysilf. As a rule, at those times one walks in n narrow groove ; it ho arauis, the contradiction lie rcc-ivis is of that mild character that is cm lie ea-ily proved wrong,

Ao wonder, when the thinker creates it for tlui puipose rf proving Himself right. It is not always healthy, ti.i* solitiry c. >m nmnionship ■it leads rurely to j iis-t con chr-io.!s. But in conversation i c>v by-roads reveal themselves, in which we wander pleasantly : now vistas appear; new si*g gettioua arise, to giro vaiiety to the argu ment, and to khow that it lias more than cms BtlQsh side. l'orhupß it is the sound of our voices which produces these asjroenble channel- If one lived intirely n life ot thought, if would be a dead life—a life with out movement, without variety. Good night, Arthur. 1 have kept you from your rest. Bou have travelled far to-day, Good night. Sleep well.1'

CHAI'TER'XXK,

ADELAIDE GLORIAS IN HER lIKCKLESSMBSS,

15alcomi)K stood nt tho door gazing at the retreating ligareof the Advocate, It passed 'hroHgh tlie clear light of the lamps, becumo dimmer, was lost in the darkness. The corridor was loii' r, aud befoie the souud of ihe advocate's footsteps was silenced by distance, the Advocate* form was a shadow among shadows, tn Balcorubo's excited mood the slightest impressions became the medium, for gloomy ulluctiuu, As the figure of tho Advocate «rew more aud more indistinct and was finally lost to sight, Balcomlic'a eyes still followed an in visible fonu, inoviuu not through space hut through events, in which ho Mid ndelaide were the principal actors. Confusfd imago?, resolving, themselves i to deflutd pictures, crowdid to his mind, the leadiug features of whicHjwcro tin; coaEcqueuce* arisiug from the duiiblo betrayed of love and fiieadsbip. Viirlcni■ ittngjilei', deadly i-mbraosiu rcoms, in forests, on the brinks of jirccii ice-", in ih> wild torrents of fu.ious livers, in every monstrous shape aud firm which a distorted imagination con'd en ate—a moment's time ■ultk-cd for ,the creation of numberless pictures. He was recalled to himself by a soft tapph'g at thi' door of his iuuer room, tie hastily unlocked it, and reba e.i Adelaide, vlm iniseil I.cr eyes, beaming with abimatioa, to his. In hU eye* nst ul-h'ncnt dwe't. He thought to a o her pale, frightened, trem bling, ft ever h;ul he beheld her more radiant. "tie \* gone," ihe said aland iii a Rny tone. "Hush!" whispered Ealcombe. ''lie may return." '• Ho will not," hlic said, " You will see him no more to-night." "ThaukG.-d. trie danger is escaped. 1 itll.as it" I had been gulty of some furrilile crime." " Whereas you have only boon guilty of 'iiljliginj; p"o: little iunoccnt mo in the most harnilc.'S fancy tbat ever eutered a wonnn's hi ad—to wi»h the man she loves a simple goud-uight— Aith'ir, 1 heard every >vod," "I thuu'ght you would have fillcn asleep." 11 There would luve been positive dungei if I had, f<'i' in my sleep I might have called <>ut > our mine. Yes, 1 head every word." " llo.v could you be so imprudent, so reckless as to laugh }" " Uow can i help being a woman of im pul.ic V As to being rccklcsa -I am reckless —I glory iv it. JJo you thiuk it would hurt me to tacritko myself for you. Ah ! you do not know ot what I am capable fur your sake." ''Will you be cipublc of one thiug for my sake, Adelaide?'

'"Only tell mo what is," " .P'udencc.

•Well, I will try, if you arc good. And lie heard my laugh, and wont to the wrong door to li'tuu. Is that like a man iv love, lint to be ab!o to distinguish tLic sound of his wife's own voicu ! There is not .1 thing lie does that docs not convince me more and more that he has no heart. But if he had come to the ri^ht door and thrown it open and suen me, 1 should have known how to act. Arthur, what did you moan by say iug to him, ' My thoughts are not under con trol while yon havo your hand on that letter. What letter did you refer to 1"

" Your note to me, which Dionotta left in this room How often have 1 warned you t) bo more careful, lie was Bitting by tho do vie upon which I had luid the note, aud liia hand was upun it."

' And you were Lightened. Ah I but you are prudent. To think that he lnd but to open that innocent little bic of paper. What a scene there would hay« been I Does it not p ovo that the Angel of Love is watching over us '! But, Arthur. 1 think there is no ploaauio in life like the pleasure of danger. Tiioae who say women are weak know nothing of us. We are stronger thiu men. 1 tried to peep through the door, but I could not catcti a glimpse of anything. There wasn't a. jingle triendly cicviee. If I had li 'd a fairy godmother, I should have summoned her to my side and implored her to put me soiiipwhorc wheic I could see all that was goiiijt on, What a shock ie would have given him if I had suddenly called out as ho held my letter, " Open it my love, open it, and read it" ' You promised me to be prudent." "Tyrant 1 I did not promise you not to think! I was prudent. Wih the exception of that little laugh, you did not hear me brrathc I hivo a good mind to be angry with you. You are positively ungratoiul. You shut mi; up in a room, all by myself in the dark, where I quietly remain, the very soul of discretion. Upon my word, now I ihiukot it, ihero in something comical in yuur asking mv to bi prudent. And you do not give mo one word of praise foe'my c irage in not screaming out. Tell mv instantly, sir, tbm lam a brave little worn.in,"

" You arc, My thoughts did not wander from you for a moment."

"if you hail on'y given me a harmful of ro-e-li'iiven that I might have burk'd my fai c in and imagined ail sorts of delightful things about you and me! No one clso only you and rac ; He tried hard to get at your secret, Arthur." " Did I daiu reveal it to him ?"

"I suppose not, though if you had I should not lave minded it. A along as you love me you can do nothing wrong. If you \*cre to .^ay to me, 'Adelaide, let us leave this Innsc together this minute, thii very minute, and seek some spot where we arc unknown ; let us go to a distant part of the •.\ orld where we can live a life of peace and love,' I should not hesitate to obey you,"

"I shall nof put you to th-i test. Ade laide. 1 have not the courugo, I wuuld . die for you." I "' Uiit you will not live for me. That is tbn diU'eivneo Mwoen us. I must be con tent, Your word sluill be my law. Djcs it spring from your regard for the Advocate I that yon aro incapiblc nf tho sacrifice 1 would willingly make!"' "Yon livvi: heard,.you nay, nvcy word ut !h (!.invc.isatii>ii wahavi held lie irusta ! me ; h s l».-"li<v.'iM in me." | " !.i! V'.ju luis! liiiii - you i.'Clievi iv him?" "Are yon :<. ii;: v t.li "■'■ ■ '.'insieasnn, or are you utterly utterly 1.-l ml ?" tin nskcil vchiincatlv, ■■■•-•' i':cre was now a red Hush upon h-.'v f.i'i: ::iiil i liphl of augt'l1 iii hfti (•y.-s. "lii'vn you o-.'m a.skcd yourself niisiiirr Bti.-h h miin a" ho is waithy ut 1 tru-t a:nl litflir'f ';" •' If. Inn iHiver ne<;u r.d to me to ask tnuclla f|'.:o-tiuu .:.> hiivi-M'.o. My fiicnil ship fin him ha- <: me in v iiatutal way." She aaxod at him in inn / meat. "Ha? lie never told yn,i he loved me." " N cvfiiv "

"Nor wu* bee/or likely (.-, n« hu loves :moth t." > h '. svviii in n luau of contempt, It v,\i.- his turi! now I.' Pxpn'M iiuiuz.incut "i,'o you fluent alrenly," flio naked, 4: what lias |a-L-<! he?>veen you ? I! it had linppauoil ihat 1 loved h in. uft r hU con fession to ni^ht I should hate liiin wilh n wobiiiu's h.ite, whie'i iv it" way n stronger than n woman's luve. Unt it is iniiiiV. rent to me upon whom ho h.\« s-.t liii affections, With nil my hiiiirs I pity this uufortutiuto \ creature ho loves. Sim need not tear me. I .shall not harm her. You still look incre dulous. It give, one hopes that where you believe you cannot doubt—aud you believe in me : but 1 shall not give yen cause to doubt me. Ho cudeavouiud to gut at tho heart of your secret i hi.1 was unsuccessful lint you gut at tho heart of his when you askud him if a wonun wus involve! in it; and jou compelled him iv confess that his liortiur—ani of course jiora ; mine is of uo account—was at stulfu in his roitcrablulovo affair, He loves a woman who is not his wife : 1 1 ive a man who is no', my husband. Are your rye- o;» lieu ': Of courau he must keep his secret close—f course ho could nut epenk of it 10 hii i i nd, whom Ii!! tries to hoodwink by professions of twisted words. You in us: bo uululeeut of each wher— that is to say, discovering th.it hi is base ins'eiid •■f noble, you must tin indulgent towards liiip, and sir. "Kdwarit, it is perfectly right that ton .hould love ono woman and marry another j i: is a proof of the great ness of your nature that you should betray your wife. He lives ia an atmosphere of wine, and has missed his way. lie is clever at words. That is what makes him so proit. But I should express it more truthfully. I live in an ataioaphcro of wine, and 1 luvn fouud my way. And my way is your way, Arthur, for 1 love you, and ouly you. Ho married me, I suppose, to satisfy his vanity : he wanted the world to .-co that old as he was, i^rave n.s lin was, no .•.oinan cnnld r.sist him. And 1 allowed mjv.clf lob; persuaded liy wnrlrfly friends. Ah I if you had but l»ra near mo then! Hut never mmd the |i,ii. It e.auii' the ro ■ ■ailed. Iho prtsisut is ours, and ihi' future. U it i'ot n proi'i of my ntVcr having luved hiai that instead of lulling him, wh n in mv preiiiice lie roiife<"ncs hi love-' another. I simply laitj;li ■■■' h'jn and despise him. There ! enousjli tar him. l ahoulJ ii<t •h. d a tear over bin) if he died lo niyli?. lie has 'limited me, and vmt uoman ever forgets ir furgiws au in.-ull ? But hu liim done me a kooJ siTvies to-1, and I think h; m. llow sleepy 1 nm. Good-night! My miuut* is up—one ut the Bveeies! i:i my Me, aud I cannot stay 1 ii»cr. I mr.st t'ink r.f my .•oaiplcxion. Good-ni^'lit ! K«od-uigut! aud dream of me, as 1 shall nf y iv." [To be continued )

THE WANDERERS'S RETURN.

I A 3loderii Romance. The mining town of Banko had shanties, 100 tent?, 600 population, and 09 men who drank whiskey, played old sledge, mhl car ried knives and revolvers and stabbed and peppered each other on the slightest provo cation, The one man who didn't drink was ft slim, hungry looking man. whom the boys had elected for justice of tliß peace, police justice, chief of police, chief fugleman at funerals, superintendent of hospitals, and principal of public schools He had all he could do to carry around his load ct dignity. Kad he added one drink of whi-key to his binrden he would have been crushed to eaith. One afternoon it bocarne the painful duty of th 3 man of many honours to proceed to the shanty occupied by Wicked Jim of Arkansas, and to remark to that indivi dual : 'Jamoa. it is the sentiment of this 'ore enterprising town that you git up and git." ' Kin you back them remarks ?' calmly inquired the Wicked, as he turned over the bod. ' I reckon,' whispered the Judge, as he brought two 'Colts' to bear on the lemon shaped head not ten feet away. Wicked Jim surveyed the situation with out a wink, and after the lapse of seventy seconds he placidly remarked : 'I'll git.' • When V ' Soon aa I can pack ' 1 That'll dew James,' obseved the Judgr, and he eased down the hammers of his re volvers and went away so select a site for a college. Wicked Jim betrayed no particular emo tion a? he went about his work packing up, aud at the end of an hour, when he rode his mule out upon the Campus Martius, with all his traps made fast to the saddle no one coujd nave suspected the Vesuvius rasing in bis heart. A crowd had gathVcd to see him off ' Gentlemen,' said the Wicked, as lie bowed to the right and left, ' I spit upon the town of Bunko. I can build a better one of sand and grease ! It ain't a lit town fur an aristocrat like me, and I'vo allus knowed it?' At this point three or four individuals on tne outskirts of the crowd began shooting, but the Wicked took do notice of the fact as he continued : ' The lion can't partner with the jackal ! The eagle can't mate with the buzzard ! Slinks, sludgers, curs, and reptiles I go !' Here the shooting increased one-half, and one of the bullets passed through the Wicked's hat as he raised it and contiu. ued:

' But I will return, and when I do, look out tor oceans of gore ! In less than a year I'll dump your town into tho river and hold tho site fur a private graveyard I Whoop ! Yip —yi!—whoop !' The Wicked held two shoo'ers on the crowd as he galloped oil', aad the result was two men killed and three wounded. A hundred bullets whizztd mound the fugi tive, but he turned the bead without hav ing received a scratch.

Twelve months had p:ifsed away. It was evening when five hor.-emea rode slowly in to Hunko. Wicked Jumes rode ot the head [<>i the procession. He had come to fulfil bia pronv'se, and there was blood in his eye.

' How's this 'ere ?' queried the Wicked as the band reached the brow of the hill and looked down upon the town.

Gas lamps were now burning iv every direction.

The prosession moved down to the spot where the Ked Eye saloon had stood a year before, and again the wicked uttered a growl of surprise.

The saloon had disappeared, and in its place stood a solid brick building bearing the sign : ' Manufacturers' Brand.'

The procession moved down to the next corner over freshly laid pavement. la place of ' The Can Cau Dive' was a line opera house, and across the road was a great hotel.

Like men who walk on the steep roof of a house the procession moved down to tho public square. This was the spot which the Wicked had taken his departure a year ago. No, it can't be ! Here are bl«cks of stores, a street car line, a market house, another hotel, a railroad ticket office, n police station, and a public museum 1 The Wicked rubbed his eyes like a mau who has slept too long, and he looked this way aad that, in dumb amazement. By and by he said :

'Boys, let's gin one old fashioned yell, and break this mirage.'

They yelled in chorus,

The echo had not died away, when men wearing uniforms and silver stars suddenly appeared, as if rising from the earth. The Wicked and bis companions were pulled from their saddles and hustled across the square into prison cells, and wh'le they seemed to be struggling in the embrace of some terrible drsam they were brought iu tq court, and heard the obseivation from a dignified Judge :

' We cannot tolerate tueh conduct in a peaceful, law abiding city like .Bunko The sentence of the Court is ninety days in the workhouse for each one of you I'—Burling ton llawkeyc.

On the Sleep of Fishes

uoks sleep, or a periodical season of repose for the organs of the senses, ever visit fish, rr can it be that balmy slumber is to them unknown ? This question wo occa-ionally see broached, but the generality of writers upon the finny tribes evade committing themselves to an opinion by the simple pro cess of omitting reference to such a phenomenon. HybernUion dmitig the winter mouths in cold Jattitudis, and activation during hot months in tiopical climates, is generally admitted, but n t so simple sleep. Seme authors appear to hold the view that possessing no eyelids, (ish are unable to sufficiently Bhut out external in fluence?, and cannot, therefore, beiupposcd to sleep. Mammals and birds, in I'joit, are sometimes a«sertcd to bo the only animals which are periodically visited by refreshing slumbers, while such as are in a lower (;iado mr-rc'y rest from time to time in their labours, and withdraw themselves to some quiet nook where thoy may remain undis turbed. A few evenings sine?, when cas-iug tlie tiink of tench at the Westminster Aqua rium, I heard a woman exclaim. "Lor, Bill, if one of these 'ere fi-h ban" dead 1" Bill first appeared to doubt, but, indisposed to disagree and iv deference to his fair com panion's opinion, communicated with an attendant, when, to the evident snrpiis* of both, they were informed that the fis.i were merely Bleeping, I heard tho pair as they slowly passed on, debating together whether or no the attendant had been chaffing them, as they never heard of a fish sleeping. On looking in the ii-h tank, I perceived a email "golden tench" lying in a peculiar and apparently uncomfortable position ; its tail half was supported by a pieca ol raised wckwork, while i's head was retting on the floor of the tank, and the slightest amount possible of motiin only conveyed to the mind of a casual observer that he was gazing at anything but a dead specimen. The succeeding evening the little golden one was seen as vigorous as its compunionl, all of which, with a single exception, appeared to be leisurely enjoying their fxistcuce, either by feeding or in the contemplation of the varied sceucs which were constantly passing in front of their glass enclosure. The solitary exception was reclining on its back and scarcely movtd, but on c'oser BCiutiny its mouth could be seen to open every now aod then, and the fish gave a short orasp ; the nevfc ovenins; it was swim' miii" abnut with its follow captives and busy wallowing in the soft sand, some of which it took into its monrh and then dis charged again. Jsut a third tench was now in a somnolent stato, and, without multiply in" instances, any visitor will probably find one or more thus quietly enjoyins? its exist ence and ailbrding an example ©f how fish I can sleep.

General Wolfe overhearing a iyouug officer fay in a very familiar mariner, "Wolfe and I drank a bottle of •wine together," replied, "I think you might say General Wolfe." "No," replied the subaltern, with happy presence of mind; " did you ever hear of General Achilles, or . General Cfesar?'1 '. •-■'



Auckland Music Warehouse, c8 3 QUBEIsT-STEEBT. LIST OF POPULAR AND STANDARD SONGS:- SON G S. Answers (Mumenthal) f jrMfiliipmlto (Arlanir) All that. Cilitlors(Vawn) ; 7illiiW.lino ( N'--l_-.->iil Alas, those Chimes (Wallace) Mj" °«n My Guiding -1' r (Aid arren) \1 the l'Vrry (WollinKs) Music uf Her Voice |\Vri^hton) Arab's farewell (Ulockloy) Jli-noiuile (Cliampion) \ 10.T (lli'hrond) Many Happy Kcturas of tho Day (Blocklcy) A l)rr:un Wiihin a Dream (I'ontntt) afounlulwnk tVlvlon) A Damsel Fair was SinuiiiK (Utwz) Jlajwi.-'s Secret (CJlarlbel) Amity (Hchrend) Muriel (Linley) \D'ivt (Oatty) M.v Swnctlieart V. hen a Hoy (Morgan) iiimity Sleep (Arditi) Jlai.l of vlr.ii? (Allen) Ilird 111 thu Hand (Roockel) No, Sir (\\ akrlicUl) lliMidof tlm Kiver (Jilmncnthal) lorno (Jrnrtei) i;n:il-.wain's Story CUolloy) NU Dcsperniuliim (liloeklcy Hull ringer iWalliicc) Napoleon to JoseiJlimc (On»low) ISrook (Dolores) Never Aeain With You Robin (Williams) Ili-ead and Clicoao and Kisses NoverMore (Mattel) liriilsro (Innds'iv) j ()'lO 3lornni(r. Oh, So Early (Gatty) J)rownKyeaoi;/iltioKyoß(Aid(f) S"^ 13?^" „ llcatlne of My own I Court (MeFarreu) I Our .la. -k ( onv.; j tome (Donors) lilin.l fiir] to'irer Harp (Glover) Hi, V. c ,' \ can i') 1! I.' , Keltor Land (Cowcn) °. llnll' Dove ((Jatt.y) CloansiiiL' Virm (Gabriel) °» Dreanilanda Shore (Waldteufel) Chnmo o£ tho Light Hi-iuado (Blocklcy) 0 Solutarla (Woisa) Children'^ Voices (Cluriuol) Did Love and Now (Cowon) Clailfr Of the Wond(!ii Shoon (Molloyl Oh '■ How l)oli!;htfiil (waltz song) (Alolloy) Oharmnd 8on« (I'ontett) pneo Again SuUlvan) (.'.line Hack to Erin (Clarlbol) E°at^ t ("?, m ~ ~ , Cables In Ilio Air (Adumß) l'u»P»,'»(.llo (Molloy) Oaptlvo Greek Girl iGlovor) Wo bin s Itcturn Clarluol) (ioiiMidm tho Lilioa (Glover) l} ol}S» ' Pi"autl' (VrrierDove Raft (PlnSUtl) Carissima (Pontott) Ilhiuo Maiden (Smart Choriater (Sullivan) IJocrrot jbinloy) Darby and Joan (Jtolloy) Hubyltabnc 1) Drlnlr, Puppy, Drink (Melville) Uln X 0" Bweot Anjjelus (Gounod) Distant Shore (Sullivan) St. Agneu live (Sullinin) Don't Kor K ct Mo (Pinsuti) Spmo T)uy (WohinKS) Desert (Kmnnuol) Star Upon Star (Otlunbach) Duar Little Shamrook (Jackson) Shells of Ocean (Chorey) Dresden China (Molloy) Sleep, ]\ly Lovo. Sleop (Sullivan) Dreamland (Claribcl) Sweetlitiirta (Sullivan) Ivfineralda (Lenoy) Scenes Thai are Jirn;hl<vst (Wallace) Email! Involami (Verdi) Sweot Spirit; 1 feaf .My I'i-ayer (Walla'T) ICileen Allannah (Thomas) y!IC!lk r" Il! ("ainpana) I'Yir Kvor (J!lncUl»y) Silver Chimes (Clanbcl) Kar Away Where "Angola Dwell (Blumonthal) Sumini :>■ '■ ihower Marzials) Kor Ever and lor liver (Tosti) s«'cet; Home (Wnshton) Voa Hell (l'ontettl Smiles and Tears IWrißhton) Fadinjr Away (Kriekcr) S]iinniiis (Cowcn) Korsaken ((Jaliricl) Stranuors \ et (Claribcl) Kairy Jane (Mur/.inW Sucrct (Lady Hill) l.'ar Prom 3l> Even (Campann) s!»«. IJlrdio, Sins (Oan;:) Kor Her Dear Sake (Loiuh) Silver Cup (Adams) Gallants of Kmjlimd (Oatty) Kcoiit «J;iinpan!i) (lott Mlt Dir (Itoeckel) hail Honrt, 0 lake Thy 1 lest (Gabriel) (":olden D,.ys (Claribcl) H'>all I Wasting in D.^pair (Barker) Cninevere (Sullivan) Susan s Story ((Jlanbcl) Goat Holla (Alien) Sainted Mother (Wallace) liood 1 thine Wino (Gray) Sho Wimdcred Down (Clay) (!ood Company (Adams) Sweet Love of Mine (Cowcn) He Thinks 1 Do Not Lovo Him (Dolby) Thou Art So Near and Yot So Far (Deicliardt) Her Name (Hlumonthal) * Thoro's Music, in Tho Fountain (Donizetti) Homo of My Heart (Harvoy) Tit For Tat (I'ontett) Half-mast, Hi^h (Claribel) Thiiß Ooes the Vi orld Around (Tlmrwnll) Hush (Dolorcu) Thy Face (Marriott) Homo Without Theo Cannot Tto (Henrietto) Tompest of the Heart (Vordi) ; Homo They BroußhtHer Warrior Dead (Lindsay) Tako Hack The Heart (Claribcl) Heartless (Gatty) Though Fortune. Darkly (Ualfe) In theGloamin(?(Uarri3Son) To Anlhca (Hattou) In Happy Moments (Wallaco) There is a I 1 lower That Dloometli (Wullaee) If (Pinsuti) Thy Voice (Hlocklcy) It Was a Draam (Cowen) Tell Him I Love Him Yet (Gatty) I Watch For Thoo In Starle«B Nl^'ht (Ilochc) To-morrow IBlockley) I Seek For Theo in F.vory Flower (Ganz) Till Then (I'insnti) I Cannot Sini? tho Old SonifS (Clarlbei) Thy Voico Is Near (Wrip;hton) I Arise From Dreams of Thee (Salanuui) Tliou'rt I'asainß Honou (Sullivan) 1 Van- No Foe (I'iiisuti) Thy Sentinel am 1 (Watson) ! Cannot Mind My Wheel (Linley) To and Fro (Gounod) .l.ick'H Yarn (Dielil) Vanity iirall) .Teraic's Dream (Blookloy) j VnKal'o>"l (Molloyi -~,,„. , liinlilta (Norton) | WoTarsThat O'er the Ocean Sail (llatlon) .111-I Touch the Harp Gently (Dlamphiu) Weary (tiabriel) ,„,,, land's Choice (Claribcl) When Sparrowo llmld (Lindsay and Gabriel) ICatry's Letter (Diillcrin) Waiting (Millian!) Ki-ii'V llanco .Molloy) We'd lieltcr Hide Awcc (niarihel) Kinii'H Ilitrhway (Molloy) What Need Have I the Truth to Tell (Claribcl) Kathleen Mavoiirneon (Crouch) Wny Thro' the Wood (Dolby) K'aio O'Sliano (Linley) When Night 13 Darkest (Laud) ICalhlcen Aroon (Fruim Abt) Will lie Come (Sullivan) Lo.t CUiord (Sullivan) When Thou Art Ni K h (Gounod) London Hridxe (Molloy) Whitn Squall (garkert Lover and the Hird (GiiKliehuo) " hen Soii'ow Sli'epeth (I.aud) Lilly of the Lea'Sniarti Will o'the Wisp [Cherry) Liliiu Maid of Areadeo (Sullivan) When the. Heart is Vouiiß (Buck) LUile Mountain Lad (Uoeokel) Wins?s (Dolores) Let Mo Dream AkiUii (Sullivan) Who Can '1 ell (Allen) Lark Now Leave* His Wut'ry Nost (Hutton) Watchman and The Child (Cowcn) Lovo Not (lllockloy) " Warrior Hold (Adams) Little Mutch (lirl (Molloy) Why Do Summer Hoses l'udo (liarker) Li'i'iidGeni(WriKhton) Ycbterday Limo Trees by tho Itlvor (MoFurron) Yon and I (Clanbcl) „■„.„„.; Love's Request (Iteichardt) Yes, Let Me Like a Soldier Fall m allacc) Lookiu" Back (Sullivan) Yeoman's Weitdinx Sonu (t'omatowski) &c, &c., &0. SACKED SONGS. Vbaalnm (Lindsay) Listening Angels (Tilockley) r,ni:iider tho Lilies (Glover) Nai-.arolh (Gounod) Christian Martyr (l)lockloy) Until (Davis) Comn Into Mo ILinduay) llomember Now Thy Creator (Tophll I Chnri-ter(Sullivan) Hesitation (Lindsay) David SliiKlnK Hefore Saul (Bordese) Kcnim; and 1' lowm;s (I ockled Faith (Glover) There is a Green Hill (Gounofl) -,;<,. Oiiarrlian Ansol (Fairfax) Toroa (Lindsay) lie Wipes the Tear from F.very Kyo (A. Led Too Late (Lindsay) Low At Thy Feet (Lindsay) «''■. KO., Sec. ANY OF THE FOREGOING CAN UK OBTAINED AT Eadvs Auckland Music Warehouse, OH WILL BE FORWARDED TO ANY ADDRESS ON RECEIPT OF 2S. Sn.