STAR SATURDAY SUPPLEMENT.

AUCKLAND, N,Z., SATURDAY, APlilL 14, 1883,

THE HOUSE OF White Shadows.

r>y B. L. FARJBON.

AUTHOIt OF

n Blades •o' - Grass," " Joshua Marvel' "Bread and Chcc&v and Kisses," " Grif," " London's Heart," iCc., dx., etc.

CHAPTER XLII (Continued.) "We will pass that, by t " said Vanbrugh, helpioi! himself to Vine. "Keilly your wine is exquisite, In some respects you are a man to be en.vied. It is worth much to a man, not O'jly to posses the best of everything the Vorld oiui give, but to know ho hiv the m'\ans and the power to purchase it, With i'jat consciousness within him he walks wii ' n his head in the air. You used to be fond of discussing these niceties. I had no ta%£o for them. I left the deeper subtle ties o f l.fe to those of thinner blood than ffi: .iue; pleasure was more in my way, and 1 will be again." "You aie wandering from the point, said the advocitc." "There is a meauiut; in everything I say, but I will clip my wings. Your «vor<t against a hundred men such as I and Gau tran. lam afraid you are right -we are vagabonds, you are a gentleman. So, then, my knowledge of the fact that you treated Gautran as a friend after you had procured Us acquittal is worth nothing. Adiui'ted ; buG put tint knowledge and tbat face in connection with another and a sterner knowledge and fact -that you know Gau tran to be guilty of the murder. How then? Dots it begin to assume a value? Your silence gives me hopes that my visit will not be fruitless. Between men who were once equals and friends, and who, after a lapse of years, come together as we have come together now, candour is a useful attribute, let us exercise it. I am not hero on your account, nor do 1 hold you iv such regard that I would trouble myself to move a finder to save your reputation. The maiter lam working foi is Self; tho end lam working for is an easy life, a life of pleasure. This accomplished with your aid I have nothing more to do with you or your affaire. Tlie business is an unpleasant one, and I shall ba glad to forget it. Kefuse what I ask, and you will sink lower than I have ever sunk. There ore actions that the world will forgive in the igaoraut, but not iv men of ripo in tellect." He paused and gazoi negligently at the Advocate, who timing lha lattar part of Vanbrugh's speech, was considering tbe dangers of his position. The secret of Gautran's guilt belonged not alone to him self and Gautran'; this man Vanbrugh had been admitted into it, and he was an enemy Bore to be dreaded than Gantran. He saw his peril that he uuconsciously acknow ledged to be imminent, was proved by the thought which intruded itself—against his will us it seemed—whether it would be wise to buy Yanbrugo. off, to purchase his silence.

"It is easy," he said, "to invent tales. You and a dozen men, iv conjunction with tlie monster Gautran "

"As yon say," interrupted Vaubrugb, gently nodding his hejd, " die monster Uautran. But wny should you call him so unless you knew him to be guilty ? Were you assured o! his innocence you would speak of him pityingly, as one undeservedly oppressed and persecuted. The monster Gaatrau! Thauk you, it is an admis sion,"

—" M?.yinvent,"contioued the Advocate, not heeding ths interruption, but impressed by its logic,'' may invent any horrible tale you -pleas'l, oJ any man you please. The difficulty wid bo to get the world to believe It."

"Exactly; but in this case there is no difficulty, although the murderer bo dead." "Gautran I Uead !" exclaimed the Ad vocate, suipri'cd out of himself But, in deed, f haken a3 he was by the scene he hid witnesssd between Ar.hur Balcoinbe and his wife, he was not master of his speech or

thought. Gautran was dead, .Encom passed as he was by danger and treachery, the Dews was aieliei to him.

"Yes, dead," replied Vanbrugh, pur posely assuming a circle's tone ■' Did I not tell you bdfors 1 Singular that it should have escaped me. But I h»ve so much to say, and in ruy brightest hours I was always losing the sequence of thinj>s." .'•And you," said the Advocate, " meet ing this man by chance -" "Pardon me. I asked you whether 1 should consider our meeting provtdcnti.il." "Is uiutera nnt. You inseting this man come to me after his death /or the purpose of extracting money from mi. You will fail," " I shall succeed." "You killed Uautran, and want money to escape."

" No. He was killed by a higher agency, and I want no money to e?cipe. "You will hear to-morrow how he met his death, for all the towns ana villages will be ringing with it. I continue. Say that Gau'rau at death made a dying confession on oath, not only of his guilt, but of your knowledge of it when yon defended him—say that this confession exists in writing, duly signed. Would teat paper, in conjunction with wbat I nave already offered lor sale, be worth soui purchase ? Take time to consider. You are dealiug'with a nun in desperate ctrcams'ances, one who, if you drive him to it, will pull you down, high as you are. Koiiwill help me, old friend." "It may be Hav^ you possesion of the paperyou sprak of ?". ''Ihnve. Would you like to hear it ?" ' Yes."

Vanbragli moved so that a table was be meenhimand the r'dvocate, and taking Uotran'a confession from his pocket read to a clear voice : - "I, Oiiitran, the woodman, litely tried lot the murder of Madeline, the flower gin, biiog now at ilio poiat oE death, and conscious that I have only a few miuutes to "»9i aud being also in the full possession wßy reason, heiebv make oath and Wear:—

"Tbat being thrown into prison, awaiting ■j>y trial, l believed there was no escape ™v the doom I justly merited, for the 'Won that I was guiitv of the raurdsr. That some days before the trial was to '«epla C 3, the Advocite, who defended me 'oiantarily, undertook to prove to my dl%s that I was innocent of the crime I wmmitteJ.

"Thatwiih this full knowledge he con oucted my caie with such ability that I i?mt tlree aad pronounced innocent. Inat on the night of my acquittal, «'«midnight had struck, and when every Person but himself in the House of White ™«fows was .asleep, 1 secretly visited him 'is study, and remained with him some

, Nat he gave me food and money and Me me go away. riii • * am ignora-.t sof the motives wcu i naaced hin)i , t0 whom j was a per _ of usti" IKer' to dtf!iberately defeat the ends •nift' the Proof laat he k[>ew me to be Cm, to "• the faCt "lat l made a tall C°n" , W whiuh Isolamily sv/ear, beia' about lorm P vPea- r b(ifore a Jaat God t0 iln'>wer merev Crinie' I p ay for for Slveness antl

w ... "(Signed) "Gauthan." 'Mtaout comment John Vanbrugh folded j^WPer, and replaced it carefully in his

locate 011* 689' 011 may bs forgod" said th °- „'Gantran's signature," said Vanbrush, *Z ite such a charg°> He could *tti i namt>> and documents can ny be found bearing hu signature, ir^?* n he compared with this." jjun1"1, that document in your posses •Wlv **iP ' dvocate, speaking very Conn i are you not afraid to be here J:*»i»g if it state the truth, how Klhfve at stake." "*kt° i-? nt)" exclaimed Vanbrugh, ttZ 5 e,neSM:a there are in human \n' a? d tow tbin the line that divides ■tiitn i the noble? Afraid! No- Hi» y * "and upon me, for whom k W° mor^ than a matcb. I will rouse ™»we. and. proclaim you. Restrain

yourself, and he >r me out. I have that to ■ay, which will piove to you Ilia necessity, if you have the slightest regard for your honor, of dealing handsomely with me. It. relates to tho «irl whose murderer you set free—to Madeline the flower-girl and to yourself."

CUAPTER XLII

A TitK . 11JM5 UEVKti H'lON

Without requestim; i • nni^irm, John Yanbrugh filled his f; I:i - with iviil'1, which ho drauk leisurely "ith Ms e>es tixed on tb.9 advocate's pule lno >h; while. When he spoko it did i.o rsc'i>3 ''ll! A;'vootito that ho seemed to il up; n>-ide the flippancy ot manner which hud hitherto characterised him, and that his voics wai unusually earnest.

"I do not oek you to excuse mo," he said, " for recalling the inemoiy of ft time when you did not despise my compaulon ship —wo were indeed more than com panions, we were friends. Whit it was ihat induced you to consort with me, is just now a mystery to me, tor socially we stand at two extremes The contrast between our characters may have tempted you I, a careless light-heaitcd fellow, who loved to enjoy iho honrs, you a serious cold-hcaited student, dreaming porhaps of the pisitiou yon have attained. It, may bs that you delibe rately made a study of me, to sec whin you could make of my weaknesses. However it was, I lived in the present, you in the futiuv. Tlm case is now reversed it is you whu live in .the present, I in the future. I luve said you were cold-hearted, and I do uot suppose you will trouble your self to deny it. Such nun as you are forme 1 to rise, while we impulsive, reckl. an devils are pretty sure to tumble in the mud But I no or h:ul such a fall as you ar.' threatenc I with, nnd, scapeg'ac'1, vagabond as I am, 1 am thankful not to havn en my conscience what you have on jours.'

" Now for certain facts."

"I oantemnlated—no, I mis'ako, I never contetup at d 1 sefc'.len to go ova lour for a low Wreks, anil .-c amblo through puts of France, Italy nnd swi'zelmd. You will rcajeuiber my msntif'Uing it to you Yes, I see in your fiice th;ir, you are following me, and I shall feel utilised by your comet inor me it in my statement of Lets I should happeu to trip. The ttory I inn telling nceas no eilor; of the imagination to om bellish it Ie ia in its hare aspect sufficiently ghastly and cruel. When I was abouttostart oa my tpur, you of your own accord offered to accomp .ny me. You had boon studying too hard, and n wise doctor rcciimuietidod you to rest awhile, if you did not care to have brain fever, aud also recommended you to seek now scene< in company of a cheerful friend, whoac light spirits would be a good medicine for an owr-worked bmin, You took the doctor's advice and you did me the houour to choose mo for a companion. I wa? glad to have you, 1 had gaiety enough for t.vo, aud so wj started on our little tour of pleasure. To shorten what I have to say, 1 will not dwell upon the details of our jaunt, but I lix myself svith you, at Zermeir, where we stayed for three weeks. The attraction -what wa^ it? Tue greeu valleys—tbe grandeur of the sc nory ? No 1 a womau—more correctly speaking, two women. Young, lovely, incxperieuced, innocent. Daughters of a peasant, whoso cottage was always open to us, and who was by no means unwilling to accept small preseots of money from liberal gentlemen, like our-clvcs. rig lin I skip details—tbe story becomes tat<\ « o captivated the hearts of tlio simple uuiideos and amused ourselves with them. In me thsit was natural ;it \\^ my way with womeu, who have played me more scurvy tricks, throe to on*-, tbau ever 1 played tbem. But in. you wtio never cared for women, this diver-ion was something to be astonished at. You played the game well —much better than I—and for just as loni; a^ you r. mained at Zermatt you wen: a transformed being. I do.it think, until that time, I had ever heard you laugh heartily. Well, suddenly you disappeared ; one morning I found my friend had do serted mo It was shabby behaviour at the best. Certaiuly you had said to me on the night before that you thought we h:ul b-eu at Zermat'. already to lung, and I had replied that the place was so pleasant to me that I intended to remaiu for another week or two. You did not leave a line be hind you te'linj! me your reasons for running away in such haste, or asking to meet you furtuer on in some other partof the country. However, it did not senoiuly trouble me; every man v his owa master, and I think we were beginning to tire of each other. It was awkward though to be asked by one of our pretty peasant girls—yours, not, mine - where niy handome friend had gone to, and wbrn he would return, and not be able to give a sensible answer. This girl, who in your presence had always been bright and joyous and happy, became in your absence aad and anxious, and appearoa to have on her mind a secrui. that was'making her wretched. I s'ayed ou at Z :rmatt for aaot ier m >ntb, and then I bade good bye to my sweetheart, promising to come again in less than a your. I kept my promise, but when 1 asked for her in Zermalt I learnt that she was dead, and that her sister and fatber had left the village, and had cone no one knew whither. I remind you hore that du'ing our say at Zeruiatt, we give no home address, and that no person in that villinge knew where we came from or whero we lived. 85 > p-udeot wtre we that wo acted as if we were ashamed of our same. Three years afterward*, in another part of Switzrrland, I met the woman to whom you had dovoted yourself, she had lost her fatber, but wa< not without a companion She had a little daughter, your child, as sulely as you hear the'worcU I am speak ing." "A lie," said the Advocate, with d ill culty controlling himself; "a inouatrous fabrication."

"A solemn truth," replied Vanbrugb, " verified by dates, the mother's oath, and the certificate of birth. To dispute it will be a wa^te of breath aid time. la your own heart you know whether you betrayed the simple girl, then deserted her. Hear me 'o the end. The mother had but one auxiety—to forget you and your treachery, and to be able to live so that her shame should be.concealed. To accomplish this, it was necessary sho should Jive among strangers, and it was for tlrs rcasm she had left her naive village. She asked me about you, aud I—well 1 playeti your game. I told her you hid gone to a distant pavt of the world, and that I knew nothing oEyou. We were still friends, jou ard J, although our friendship bad cooled. When I next saw you, I htd It on my miud to re late the circumstances to you, but you will remember that just at tbat timn you tiok it into your head to put an otsd to our intt inacy. We had a few autry words, I think, aud you were pleased to tell me that you disapproved of1 my habits of life, and that you had resolved we should henceforth bo strangers. I was not' man araiabJc mood when I left you, and 1 determined on the Brst opportunity to seek the woman you had brought to shune, and advise her to take such steps against you as would bring disgrace to your door. It would be paying you ia ynur own coin, I thought. However, good fortune stood your friead that time. My own difficulties, or pleasures, or b'th combined, c'aimed my attention, and occupied me for many month*, and when next I went to the village, in which f had lastseon your present sweetheart and her child, they were nnt to bs found. I made inquiries, but could learn nothing of them, so I gave it up as a bad job, and forgot all about the matter. Many years have passed since then, and I sank and sank, and you tost and rose. We did not meet again, but I confess when I used fr> read accounts of your triwrfphs aad your rising fame, that I would not have neglected an opportunity to do you an ill-turn, had it been in my power. I was at the lowest ebb, every thing was agninst me, and I was wondering how I should manage to extricate my affairs from their de-perate position, wheu I met in the streets of Geneva two women. They were hawking nosegays, and the moment I set eyes upon the elder of these women I recognised in her your old sweetheart from Zennatt. You appear to be faint. Shall I pause awhile. "No," said the Advocate, and he drauk with feverish eagerness two glasses of wine. " Go on to the end."

"It was your sweetheart from Zermatt, and no other; and the younger of the women, one of the loveliest creatures I ever beheld, was known an Madeline the Flower Girl." •

The Advocate, with a sudden movement, turned his chair, so that his face was hidden from Vanbrugh.

"They were poor—and I was poor. If what I suspected when I gazed at Madeline waspoirect, Isaw notonly an opportunityfdr

rovenso upon you, but a eettaii.ty of being able t<i obtain money from yon. The sccrc't to such a mao. as you was worth a fair sum, which 1 wa-i satisfied to divide with Pauline —that was the name adopted by the mother of your ch'ld. You cmnot accuse me of a want of frankness. I discovered where they lived. 1 had s crvt, a ccjli wiih Pauline. My Suspicion \v,n confirmed, Madeline, tlie Flowc Gil, was jour daughter." He pans (1, but lh- Advicats made no movement, ami did no1 'peak.

"How," con i- uu ■ Viiubrugh, "to turn that discov.ry to tlie he-i. advantage? How, and iv what was to malci it wo th n sum pufiicieutly laige t > eiiiiblo nii>. to enjoy mylife? Tnilt was whu. o oapiod my thoughts. Madeline and li, r hi oilier were even poorer thun I aiipp isod, and f ro m Pauline's lip.i did I hear how anxious she was to remove her daughter from the temp tations by which she was surrounded. In dealing with you I recognised the necessity of being well prepared. You nre a power ful antagonist to cope with, and one must hold sure cards to have even a chance of winning any game he's playing with such a man us yourself Paulino and I fpoke fre quently together, and gradually I unfolded to her the plau Iha I re-ii lvcd upon. With out disclosing your name, I convinced her that with my aid she might obtain a sum of money from ilia man who had wronged her, which would enable lu:r to place herself and her daughter in a safer imiii m in a posi tion In which a girl us boiutiful as Made lino, would ulinoit to a certainty meet with a lover whom shu would innrry, ami wiih whom she would lead a happy 'life. Thus would she escape the snare inio which Pauline fell when she mot yon. I his was the mother's dream. Satisfied that 1 could guide her to this ei>d. Pauline signed an agreement which is in my possession, by which al>« bound herself to pay me half tlie money the obtained from ;ou in compensa tion for jour wioiik. umy oue thiug was to remain untouched by her ami me— a sum which 1 resolved to obtain from you as « marriage portion for your daughter. Probably, uuder other circumstance-, you would not have given me credit for so much consideration, but viewed in the position in which you staud, you may Had iv your hoart to believe mo. If you doubC it, I CUU show you tho clause iv black aud white. This much being settled between Pauline, and mo, I told her who you were—how rich you were-how famous; aud how tbat you had lately married a young, beautiful woman. The affairs of a man as cmincut as yourself are public property, and the newspapers delight iv recording every par ticular, be it ever so trivial, connected with the lives of men of your rauk. It was, then, necessary to ascer;aiu what proots we hold that you were the father of Madeline. Our visit io Zermatt could be proved— Pauliue's onth and mine, in association with date*, would hullice. Then there would surely be living in Zermatt men and wouica who.se testimony would be valuable. The important points were \hu birth of the child and tho dato—and. t> my discomfi ture, I learut that Pauline lud lost the certificate of her c auuhU-r's birth. But the record existed ols.-wlie. c. and it was to obtain a copy of it, aud to collect other evidence, that Pauline left her daughter. Ht-r mission was a seca't one, necessarily, aud even Madeline had no knowledge of its purport, What, notf, remains to be told» It was arranged upon Paulino's return that she and I should meet in Geneva on a certain date. She would bo absent a few weeks; and, having busiuess elsewhere, I was n couple of hundred miles away when the monster Gautrau murdered your help less child. I arrived in Geneva on tho last day of Gautran's trial, aud on that evening, aa you came out of (he Court, I placed in your band tho letter asking jou to give me nn interview. I will say nothing of my feelinas when I heard that you hail success fully defended aud set frae your daughter's murderer. You who at the commencement of this interview rejected a renewal of our friendship, may probably inwardly confess that bad you accepted tho hand t offered you, it is not i who would have been the g\incr." Again he paused, aud again, neither by word nor movement, did the Advocate break the silence.

"It will be an well," mosently said Van brugh, " for me to recapitulate wll it I havo to sell. First, that you, a man of spotless character—so believed-deliberately be trayed an innocent xirl »nd then deserted her. Unless the fro .fs weie incontestable, the world would say it was inconceivable ; next the secret of the birth of your child — and your brutal—there is no other word to express it, and it is one that would be freely used—negligence to acortain whether you had brougnt open shame and ruin to the girl you had betrayed. Next, the dis closure of the life of poverty aud suffering led by the mother and child, while you were in possession of great wealth and living in luxury. Next, tbo murder of your child by a man whose name is utieied with execration, and your successful dofcuce of lie monster whom all men knew to ha guilty of the foul crime. .Next, your knowledge whon you espoused his cause that he was guilty of the murder of your own child—proved by his dying declaration, solemnly sworn to and signed by him. No etronger hand has ever beun held by any man's enemy—and I am your enemy until you come to my terms. It you refuse to purchase of me what 1 nave to sell for such a sum as will mauc my future an easy one I will we my p iwcr aguio>t you, and will dra^ you from the height on which you stood. I cannot, speak in more distinct terms. I work for my own interests. You can rescue mo from poverty—l csn rescue you from sbamo. "

The Advocate turned his faco to Van briigh, who saw tbat in the few minutes during which it had been hidden from bis sight, it had Hssumed a deadly hue. All the sternness had departed from it, and the usually cold, piercing eyes wavered as they looked at Vanbrunh, then at the objects in the ronm. It was as ibough he were gazing for the fi-st time upou the familiar things by which he WdS surrounded. This change ia him seemed to declare, '■' Hern and old hearted as I have appeared to the world, Ia m susceptible to tender ness." The misk hid fallen from hU faco, and he stood revelled—a man with human passions and human weaknesses, to wbom a fatal error in hi< younger days had brought a retribution as awful as has ever been the lot of human being to sutler. '1 here wns some thing pitiabl>! in this new p C'onlmont of a strong, oarue^t, Bclf-coululent nntuiv, ami even Vaubnigh was touched by it.

During the last hour the full force of the utonii had hurst over the House of White Shadow?. Xhe rain poured down with tcrrilic power, and the thunder shook the building to its foundation. The Advocate listened with a singular and curious intcut nc3s to the terrible sounds, and then Van brugh ic'iiarkd, "A /earful night' He smiled in reply; but it was the emile of a man whose heart was tortured to the ex treme limits of human endurance.

Once [again ho filled his glass with wine and raised it to his moutb, but when the liquor touched his lips ho shuddered, and slowly poured the witto upon the ground; then with gentleness replaced the glass upon the table.

"What has become of the woman you sp^ak of as Pauline ?" he asked. His very voice was changed. It was such as would proceed from one who had been prostrated by long and almost mortal sickness. " I do not know," replied Vanbrugh. " I have never seen nor hoard from her since the day she left her daughter, " fiay that 1 was disposed," said the Advocatp, speaking very slowly, and paus ing occasionally, aa though apprehenuve that ho might lose control of speech, "to purchase your silence, Do you think I should b; safe in the ev.nt of her appear ing on the scene ? Would not her despair urge her to seek revenge upon the man who set her daughter's murderer free J" " It might be so, but she would he igno rant of your knowledge of Uautran's guilt, That danger at least would be averted. The secret is ours at present, and ours only." "True. You believe that I knew Gau tran to be guilty when I defended him?' "I am compelled to believe it. Explain otherwise why you permitted him to visit you secretly in the dead of tn« night, and why you filled his pockets with gold ?" "It cannot be explaiued. Yst what motive could I have had in setting him free?" "It is not for me to cay. What I know, I know. I pretend to nothing further." '"Doyou suppose I care for money?" As the Advocate asked the question he opened a drawer in the escritoire, and pro duced a roll of notes. " Xake them; they are yours. But I do not purchase your silence with them. I give the money to yriuasj^gyt."

"And I thank you for it. Hut I must have more."

"Wait, wait rlhi3 story of jouvs has yet to be c noludcd."

" Is it my fancy,'' null Vaiibrngh, " or is it a roil sound lin a ? no ringing of a boll; and now a bo'itiug at the gates with out, and a man's voxe wiling loudly !"

Without hesitation, the Advocate went from his study into the "rounds. The fnry of th; storm made it difficult fur him to keep his feet, but lie succeoded i > reaching the i'ate ami oponiuti if. A hmil grasped his, and a man clung to him for niipporr. I'lw Advocate could not ace tiie face of his visitor, nor, although he heard a voice speaking to him, did tho wods that were tiered fall upon his ears. Maggeriug blindly through Ihe grounds, they arrived at the door of the villa, and stumbled into the passage. Ther*1, by the aid of the rose lamp which hung in tho hall ho raw at the sama moment the fair face of his wife as he had foou it an hour a< t :o looking up at Arthur Balcombo—ho distinguished the features of his visitor. It was Fahcr C.ipel. " Have you come to see me," asked the Advocate," or are you seeking shelter from tho storm 7"

"I have come to see you," rr plied Father (Japal. "I hardly hoped to find you up, but I perceived I'ghts in your study win dows, and they gave mv conlidcueu to make tho attempt to speak with you. I have bk'on beating at the gales for full} half-an hour."

lie spoke iv his usual g 'ntle loms, and guzad i>t tho Advocate's white face wiih a look of kindly and pitying penetration. " You arc wet. to iiic ■ kin," slid the Ad vocate ; " I luu.-t li-: i .i change of clothing for yon."

"No, my son," raid the Driest, "I need none. It is not ihe '•term without I droid— it is the storm with n." Although desirous that this rcmaik should sink iu'o the Ad vocatu'ts heart, ha paused for a few moments before ho spoke again. " I fear fiat tliis ti'inpiMt will do much harm, Tu'cs are being uprooted and buildi.ita haltered dowu. The c is dang r of a Hood, which tuay devastate the village atid b.ing misery to the poor. l!ur. there i* » gracious uod above us " -he looked up reverently -"and if a man's conscience is clear, all is wol1." " 'lhere is a significance iv the words you utter," said the Advocate, conducting ihe priest to hia study, which, impresses me, Your mission is an important one." " Most importaut. For it concerns the soul." "Afriend ot iniD«;"said the Advocite, pointing to Vanbrugh, who wis standing when they eutcred, " who bus tisited me to-uight for the first time for many years on an errand aa grave ns yours It was he who hca;d your void at tlie gates." Father Caju 1 Inclined his head to Van brugh, who acknowledged the courtesy. '• 1 wish to c infer with you privately," said tin: priest; "it will bu be.it that we should hi alone."

"Nay," said tho Advoca'e, "you may speak freely in bis presence, I hivo hut one stcret from him aud nil men 1 beg you to proceed."

['To be continued.)

A Head on Him.

at a recent reunion of " veteran^" —Federal survivors of the war between North and South—in ChiSasjo, was Theo. li. Davis, the artist of " Harper's Weekly," who was ull tbrjugh the war,

Ono of the Chicago veterans, who some times drank i\ little too much, became very excitable. The visiting, Iho mu*ic, the marching, tho cheeilog, had made him feel quite lively, aud h« wanted to fight his battles over again ; but the bojs kept Him quiet, and dually got him to bud, and soon he slept like a log. The boys were in the room tolling stories, whou tome one called attention to the sleeping comrade, and in a second an ido i occurred to Davis, the artist.

Ho «<>t hh watcr-e dour paints ;u.d brushes, aud some court plaster, and was =oou «t work with lih soft camul's-luiir brustie-. He iirs! painted two black eyes, then he painted a swelling on one check, and on the forehead he paiutal what looked as though a sledue-hainnur had smashed ia the skull. Thi'U h« took some strips of court-plaster, aud .- tuck ouo across the p anted bvokcu ivso, and another across the msuth, s aliug botu lips. Waiting for the court -plaster t> dry, the hays got a strange vetcraufroiu Mshkuah to personate a doctor.

After a little, the s-leepcr t'o^nn to wake up ; aud one ot his friends took a seat by his bed s'ulc, fch his pulse, ami, as be opeiie-.l his 6yo», said : " No don't, exert yourself, and dout try to talk. Tho doctor says you will be all right if you remain quiet." The victim of the juke opened his eyes, and was gnina t > ask whit was tho mat- tcr, when be found hi* mouth held together by court-plaster, ar.d his vuioe sounded like that of i. man with a hare lip.

l>y tliis time one of the jokers was having trouble to keep from laughing, to ho put a haudkerchief to his fuee, sobbed, and said : " Merciful powers, bojs, this is horrible !" At this point the Oshkosh villiau said hopl fully :

" Don't be discouraged, my boy ; we will pull you through, if you do not get excited, I have ciHtd worse cases."

Th. v he took a pair of seissorj and cut the C'.urt-plaater that held the lips together, nud said :

" There—how do you feel now? Don't talk much ; but don't you feel relieved ?'

The victim looked at the doctor aud at the boys who weic picturesquely ttaudiDg around the bed, and said :

" Doc, for Heaven's* sake what has hap pened to me!" The doctor told bim to be quiet, aud then whispered to him :

" You have bad the worst ii«ht that a man ever had and lived. A man attacked you on Wells Struct, with a vi'w of robbing you, nml you defended \oursclf; but it wa? a hnrd struggle. MrDrury, plea c hand me that hand-^lass. There—you can ate for yourself. There is a contu-bn of the braiu, theeye-i arc riismlourel, and Ittionghtyour jaw was brokeu, but as you can talk, I guess it ia only dactrucd. Don't talk." Tbe vic'iui tool; a long lo*k at himself, and the fir.it ihin« he suit was :

l; Is tho other f.llow alive ?'

It was all tho boys could do to keep from bursting ; but they kept sjber faces, and the doctor said the other fellow was alive, bathe was tbe worst used-up man ho ivcr rewod up. He sanl ono arm was broken and one eye out, anil I)Ia f.-\cu looked as if a pile-driver had struck him Tha victim smiled a fatisiicd smilo as he hs.ird how he had whipped the other fellow ; and then the boys asked him if ho bad any message to send home. He took tha mirror aud looked at himself again, and theu said, with a sort of a sob ;

" Telegraph for my wife 1" That was too much, and the hoy* loireil ; whereupon the doctor sore oif the court plastcrfrom his no.-c. another fellow Drought a wet rowel, and tho paint was washed oil" and, when the victim was clean, the boys handed him the mirror, aud he looked at himself ucuin; au'i theu he saw it was a joke, and hi wanted to kill sonic of them.

Improving the Occasion.

P*1

A hk^VY snow had begun falling, and had soon completely blockaded :i railroad, stop ping tho train with its single paa*ougcr car far from v placj of habitation. There weie a. doz-n or more travellers; but, aa tlio prospect of relief withiu a few hours was good, they wove taking the unpleasant situation calmly. Amongst them waa a tall, lank, lay-preacher, whose countenance waa chiefly remarkable for a prolernaturally large mouth, Soon after tha train came to a standstill, ho arose at the forward cud of the car, and with his blandest professional smile, begun ; " Now, brethren and 9istors we've got to stay lure shut up together for an hour or two—so let us make tue best of it. i soy brethren and sisters—because we are all brethren und sisters—aiat that so 1 We're all Christians, ain't we? of couise we arc. Now, let in have a little expe rience meeting here. To begin With, we all believe there's nothing the I ord couldn't do, if he wanted to—we all believe that don't we I" At this point a green-looking countryman startled him by saying; " Waal, now, I durnw 'bout that. I think I know one thing the Lord couldn't do." •'Oh, do you?" exclaimed the preacher with great delight; "do you indeed ? Well, let's hear it. Speak up, loud, and let us all heir what it is the Lord couldn't do." " Waal," said the countryman with great deliberation, "He couldn't ha' made your mouth any bigger unless he'd ha' sot your ears back!" This ended the conference meeting.

OUR LONDON FLANEUR.

Social, Theatrical, Literary, and

Musical Gossip,

Tub Oi'knint. ok Parliament—Tun coming London Season—Miss Chamuerlaine, the New BeautyI—Her Wealth andManikold Charms- Tiie Piunoe ov Wales Approves Her—Miss CiiambkbliAlNb's Battle Royal with the duciilcs3 of vallomhhosa—a Mabqdis in thk Divorce Court—The BCANDiroitD Cash—Matrimonial iMßEOtt ity IN High Lini—TiikMauquis Strikes his Spouse-Shis Foucuves and Fouoets-He Elopes with IjAdy Aylesford — Lord Ayleseoui) is Complaisant —Reconcilia- tion, UVITURK, AND A "DECREE NISI "— Anthony Tuoi.i.ope's Will—Tun Earnings oi' Modern Novelists—Theatrical Gossip —FoimicoMi.vu Novelties—Tun Spring PUBLISItINCI SISABON-NOTABM N«W BOOKS —Cueap Editions, &c,

LONDON, February 22nd

the opeuing of Parliament at a rather later date than usual has had the effect of attract ing to town a number of leaders of society who do not as a rule come up till after Enster. In Uoud Street yesterday, tho block of.carriages reminded one of an after noon in tho middlo of May. The picture galleries were all crowded to excess, and an attempt to secure stalls at St. James's or ll.lymarkct Theatres proved utterly futile. Tliii condition of things at tho end of Kebruaiy augurs a specially early and orilliant season, indeed, I understand that contrary to custom tho Queen's first Draw ing Kooiu will be the greut crush of tho trio. ■ lready the grandes dames of Belgravia are preparing their female offspring for another serious raid on eligiblo bachelor dom, and from Nice and Monaco come whispers ot a wonderful American beauty whom H. It. H, the Prince of Walo9 lias pronounced perfect, and who will create a greater furore than ha» been known since tho day (now ci»ht years ajo) when the " Jersey Lily " first astonished London with her loveliness. This Yankee heiiess (tor sho adds money to her other attractions) is named Chaniberlainc and belongs to ratber a rough stock, bnt of her supreme charms there can bo no manner of doubt for even tho beautiful Mies Dudcooibc looks plain beside her and it seom» scarcely likely that either Mn Wheeler, or Mra Cornwollis West (who are now rather passec) will venture into competition. Miss Chamber laine has already tried her power by openly Uouting the famous Italian leader uf fashion at Wenne, Madame la D aches? c do Vallom brosa. The Duchess, it appears, did not send Miss Chamberlaino a ticket for her Bail and tho American lady retaliated by inducing her mother to give one od the same night aud to the latter the Prince of Wales, Mr Gladstone aud many other notabilities went.

A divorcs case, ia which tho dramatis personal arc without exception shining lights of the ariatocry, i«naturally a "tit bit" of the most welcome kind to inetropo litiiu journalist*. Ono of those causes eclcbras has dming the present week been exciting considerable attention in society, aud though I fear 1 cannot do justice to the scandal in truo penny-a-iiner Btylo un earnest endeavour shall be made to limn lightly Its gracious outlines. Our hero then (10 couuniaencc the narrative in duo form) is the Miuqui.-i of iilandfoid heir ti the Dukedom of Marlborouith and brother to that ■'lislng young politician" Lord Kan dolph Churchill. Lord lilaudford raitried in ISG9 Lady Frances Hamilton a moinber of the Abercorn family and their union seems to have been a rno'icrately happy one uptolST-ibywhicluimethrctchiliireuoleistd tho uoblc pair.—The niarquia iirst snowed signs of infidelity in tlio autumn of that year. "»ear Oak Dene,his country house, He." Packington Hall, then the homo of the tiarl aiul i.ounte-s of \ylesford. 'Well, over to Packington Lord lilaudford rode to call on Lady Anglesford at fust occasionally and then iiO frequently that there aro^e in the county what tho petitioner styled "qui'c a -caudal." This trouble did not, strange to say, eventuate from any jealous suspicious on the part of tlio Eirl of ayloiford. That worthy Ecion of an ohjccliouable fitul/y (who has dissipated three fortunes and recently sought au asylum in the Bankruptcy Court) luil a game if his own to (day. Tired of his wife ho wished to ob tain a t-cpjratiou aud wida ballet girl from tlio Alhnmbra so ho threw no impediments in the way of Lord Blandwd's love-mating bnt rather smoothed the way for a nice friendly divorce suit. Unfortun»tcly L»dy lJlaudfonl could uot be persuaded to view the proceedings with equal noncha lance Mio loved her husband and ull that a pood and faithful spouse could do to win him back to his decent be haviour she did. Her reward was cruelty and neglect. I<ot only did this incon ceivably naughty Marquis philander with another man's wife but he coldly neglected his own leaving her for mouths without money or eveu knowledge, of his where abouts and declining altogether to listen to her plrading or even see his children, Lady Blamlford swore in Court that she was enceinte her Lord struck her brutally, jusc as a coal-hcavor might hia wife — and doiug such injury that ahe feared her un born babe would be deformed for life. Luckily this did not provo to be the case though the child certainly wus markoil be hind the head. It positively makes my blood boil to read this sort o( thing and re member that l)cc;iuse ibis atrocious cad happens to belong to a great family his Crimea arc coudonod aud his oxceii smiled over.

Well Lite, in 1575 matter* came to a climax, Lord Blaidtord bolted with Lady Aylesford and th* friendly divorce suit was brought. Alas 1 for the Karl of Aylesfoid's tiopef, the (iuecnfc Proctor iatorvened. He declared there was collusion between the patios and adviaedaguiostiofecreewm After this Lady Ayluslird quarrellod with Lord H land ford. She aas hoped when Lady B. divorced him and Lord A. divorced her to oeconie a Marchimesi but instead she had lost her positiot, in society and gained nothing. In IS7C l-ady Blandford hearing her husbaud had apparently got over his infatuation for Lidy Aylcsford wrote to him and being a kincly. affectionate, forgiving woman a reosne lintion was soon effected. From that tiius to 18S2 things seetn to have yonc ou pretty srioothly but last AprllLady Blaudford learnt the Marquis had renewed his nttuntiom to Lady Aylcsford and pur chased a houst for her in tbe country. Charged with the infamy be admlt'ed it and with ongngng frankness put into bis wife's hand thctitle deeds of thcicstatc ho was settling ou Lady a. whom bo further stated had bone a son to him. Lsdy Bland ford sooms lo aove now felt any further trust in the Miriness shewn to her husband would oe]misi>liced. She placed the objec tionable deeds in her brother's hands. A divorce suit was Brought and as might be exdected tbe J.idgc has pronouncid a, decree nisi

The leporti circulated about Anthony Trollopc's wealth turn out to be mere moonshine, 'here was (as a writor in ode of the society journal* points out) a time some years a;o wlieu successful novelists made immons! sums George Eliot is said to have got X' 5,000 for ouo of her earlier works and rtlkio Coiliul! received a similar euuif-r " Aruadale " whicli by-the-way is uot one of hisb.'.st known books ; of modern writers of iiitiou, the last named author and James Piyu probably earn most. Miss Braddon, "f course, publishes her own stories (at leist her husband does it for hci) and so one cannot tell exactly what sbe sets. Onethng,bo\vever,Ucertain: Trollope received conparatively sainll honoraiuiun for Ms later yoiks and at no time can he have been attill well oft', for his personalty as proved by'will is under £*/5,000. Ti.is is very ditfercnl to the £100,000 tiist talked of, Charles Dickous left £90,000 and Thaokerai about £40,0 CD. Many people can't manage to read TrolJnpe at a*l, colonists cspeci illy who like their fiction (like their whiskey and water) b t a'.o strong, finding bis tales deadly dull. To an .Englishman of the middle class* s th j are however most in teresting pictures of contemporary life namers.

The theatres are citing such good business with their present attractions that an unusual dearth of novelty prevails. At the Lyceum immense cowus still have to be turned away nightly, but as Miss Ellen Terry begins to comjlain of oyer-work it is probable the " Lyod 'Mail" will shortly be revived and plajed alternate nights with " Much ado About Jfothirjg." " Impulse" at the St. Jamea'B, rod ''The Silver King " at the Princeßses eoitiuue to do an enormous

busincsl, and are sure tj rua through the present year, hut 1 doubt "lolanthe" laniig auothcrsix mo iths. The whole of the fairy chorus now wear electric lights iv their hair i'ud the effect is dtzzliug. At the Av.'nua Theatre, curiosity to see the prima donna, Flonnca St John, (who has just appeared in the Divorcs Court) is keeping ■■ Olivets" olive, but the niauagt-menfc underline ' (Fcnbach's "Belle Lurttte" - ntvoi yet p'ayul iv London, auo'liit opuia bouflo low drawing crowds tv this rvouveauies in Palis, will also b \ brought oiu at one of tho smaller tir.usi-a (probably the Striind) shortly. It h call d, ■• fcDiuitd' lnosso " which being Iran luted siKiiifyoth ''Tho niijlit-iof Prinu-.o aluro," but in all pro bability some nuch lit o ai " Sun aud Heir " will lie adopted. The composer, M Chassaigne, has made quite a reputation through this opera ; i:i fact the French critics ta;k of him as "Another Audrar." Miss Genovieve Ward, who has acted no tlrng else since she achioved her extraor dinary succe-s a? the adventuress heroine of '• Forget-me-not," will shortly essay a character of quite a different de'scriplioti. The part ia the p incipil one iv Mr Hamil ton * ides new comedy, " A Groat Catch and Miss Waid's oppportunities are said to bo great. Mauy people, you know, con sidcrher the finest of all character actressc.

The spring publishing season has just commenced and is if anything yielding a better supply of new books than usual. The article on Mr Gladstone's schooldays, which appeared in "Temple Bar" for Feb ruary was so successful that the author means to follow it up with further reminis; ceaces of eminent contemporaries and will shortly issue a volume entitled "Seven Years at Kton." another interesting work just published is Mr Jttoswoitk Smith's, "Life of Lord Lawrence" which records in a most cntertainins: form, the wondrous tale of the growth of consolidation of British power in iiindostan, I suppose you all road "John inglejant" when it first came out, if not, send to the booksellers at once. The famous story can now be obtained in a cheap form for a few shillings, and it is a standard work that should be on everyone's shelves. Two shilling editions are also out of "Mount Koyal" byMissßraddonand the "Dean's Wife" by Mrs Eiloart. The former is a much better tale than the " uoldcn Calf" at present tunning serially through the "Pictorial World" indeed the author of " Lady Audloy's Secret" seems at length to have completely written herself out. Geniu3 however still lingers in the family, for a daughter of the popular nove-1 list has just produced anonymously a story called "Who is Sylvia?" which hit the public tasto, at once, and is haying a tre mendous run at the circulating libraries.

A mongst works announced to be forth coming immediately, may be mentioned, "Mr Scarborough's Family" from Trol lope's last story. " Annau Water" by llobert Buchanan, "Hearts" by D. C. Murray, " Wanda" by Ouida, " Unspotted from the World" by Mrs Godfrey, the "Admirals Ward" by Mrs Alexander, and " Heart and Science " by Wilkie Collins. All those are"by reliable authors, and may be safely ordered from the circulating library, if your city possesses Buck a luxury.

Important Biblical Discovery in Egypt.

THE following letter appears in the "Lon don Daily Telegraph " :—Sir, —M. Neville writes from Tell-cl-Maschuta to announce that t\y > excavations undertaken by him on that site for the Egypt Exploration J'und have already yielded a result of the first historic »1 and Hcouraphical importance. This site—Te!l-el-Mascliuta—roughly mid way between Ismalia and Tcll-el-Ivebir, is proved by an inscription dus; up by M, Ncvillo, to bo at otice the l'ithom and the Succoth of the Bible. Pithom was tho sacred name descriptive of tho Temple, and Succoth (l uku) the civil appellation, Wo read of Pithnin :is one of the cities built by the Isaeiites dining the oppression. (Exodus i. 11), nod Succnth was their first station in the march of the Exodus (Bxodus xii. 37, xiii. 20). Tho discovery not only places I'ithom-iSuccoth iv the map, but in doing so aives us at last a fixed point ia the route of the Israelites out of Egypt.

A full discussion of the lesults of this discovery would bo premature, but it may he rtMirkul thut it greatly modifies Dr Biugsoh's attempt to reconstruct the pri mitive geography of tho Delta, which, like & broken geographical puzzle, Will now be put together. It must not, however, bo fcr gotten that with the help of bis collection of literary document* tho labour is compara tivtly easy, It is to be hoped that the work t-> which M. Na»ille has devoted his gicat knowledge will uot languish for want of funds. Hitherto it has oeen supported single-handed by bir- hrasmus Wilson. - Your obedient servant. Kkginai.e Stuaht PO'LB, Hon. Sen Egypt JKxploration fund. British Museum, Feb. 20.

Noses.

THE annals of surgery contain niauy cases where tho nose has been cut and torn off, nnd, K*iug replaced, has grown fast again, recovering its jeopardized func ion?. One of the earliest (16S0) is related by the sur geon (Fiorvavontl) who happened to be near by when a man's, nose, having bees cut off had fallen hi the eaml. He remarks that he took it up, washed it, replaced it, and that it grew together. S ill this is a little bit hazardous, and in warm weather the nose might refuse tn catch oq. It would be mortifying in the extreme to have the nose drop oft" ia a dish of ice cream at a large banquet. Not only would it be disagreeable to the owner of the nose, but to those who sat near him. Ho adds the address of the owner of the repaired nose, and requests every doubter to go aud examine for him self. Kegnault, in the Gazette Salutyria, 1714, tells of a patient whose nose was bitten off by a smuggler. Tho owner of the nose ■wrapped it ia a bit of cloth and sought lteguaalt who, " although the part was cold, reset it, and it became attached." Tbis is another instance, where, by being sufficiently previous, the nose was secured aud handed down to future eeneratiens. Yet, as wo said before, it is a little bit risky, and a nose of that character can not be relied upon at all times. After a nose has once seceded, it cannot be expected to still adhere to the old constitution with such loyalty as prior to thr. t change. Although these" cases call for more credulity than most of us have to spare, yet later cases, published iii trustworthy journals, would seem to corroborate this. In the Clinical Annals and Medical Gazette, .of Heidelberg, 1830, tuerc are sixteen similar cases cited by the surgeon (Doctor Hofacker) who was appointed by the senate to attend profes sionally the duels of the students It seems that during these duels it is uot uncommon for a student to slice off the nose of bis adver sary and lay it on the table until the duel is over. Af'er tbat the surgeon puts it on with gum, and it never misses a meal, but keeps on growing. I ho wax nose is attractive, but in a warm room is apt to get excited, nnd wander down into the mous tache, ox it may i-tniy away under the collar, and wlion the proprietor gocs_ to wipe his feature he does not wipe anjthing but space, A gold nose, that opens ou one side and is engraved, with hunter-case aud key-wind, is attractive, especially on a bright day. The con-silver.nose is very well in its way, but rather commonplace unless designed to match the tea-service and tbe knives and forks. In that case, goud taste is repaid by admiration and pleasure ou the part of the guest?. "Iheyapier macAc nose ia duraoie' and less liable to become cold and disagree able. It is also lighter, and not liable to season-crack. Fal-e noses are made of papier mache, leather, sold, silver and wax. Tnesc )a*>t are iitted to spectacles or springs, and arc very difficult to distinguish from a true uo3e. Tycbo Brahe lost his nose in a duel, and wore a golden one, which he attached to his face with cement, which he always carried about. This was a good Fcheme, ns it found him always prepared for accidents. He could, at any moment, repair to a dressing-room, pr even slide into an alley where he could avoid the prying eyes of a vulgar world, and glue his nose on. Of course, he ran the risk ot getting it on crooked, and a little out of line with his other features, but this would naturally only attract attention and fix the minds of those witd whom he mi^ht be called upon to converse. A man with his nose glued on wrong side up could hold the attention of an audience for hours, when any other man would soem tedious and uninteresting.

Language, is the amber in which a thousand precious thoughts have been safely imbedded aud preserved. - Trench.

FOR THE LADIES.

EXTRACTS FROM ALL SORTS OF Papers.

Matchless maid—The kitchen girl out of lucifers.

Trie Marys a^o the most amiable of the ?ex, because they can always be Molly-fied.

In 1881 only 5,532 out of 119,000 females in Victoria, ready lo be married, entered he bjuda of matrimony.

A i oung lady attending balls and parties should always secure a female chaperon until she is able to call sonio male chap her own.

A wit, speaking of a belle ot former days, said,'' Poor Mis — I As she was chatting to me the other day she brought ray youth back to me ; but, alas I she could not bring back her own!"

An fowa man was fined ten dollars for squeezing a woman's thumb. "At that rate," observes the Wilmington News, " uobody but a millionaire could afford to put an arm around her waist."

Eve was the only womin who never threatened to go and live with mamnuj; and Adam was tho only man who never tantalised bis wife about "tho way mother used to cook."

" If I have cv. r used any unkind words, Hannah," said Mis Smiley reflectively, '-I take them all back." " Yes, I suppo: e you want to nse them over again," wu< the not very soothinc reply.

AD INFINITUM.

So naturalists obsorvo, a flea Has smaller fleas that on him prey; And these have smaller still to bite 'om; And so proceed ad injinitum. -Jonathan Swift, 1667-1715.

An old man said one d*y to a young lady : " I never see you, my dear, but 1 am a score of years the youuger." "Then, pray," wittly replied the giil, "letus not meet often, or you will toon be in your second childhood."

A lady once a«ked St. Francis de f-'alea whether she might use paint to improve her complexion. His reply was-I'Some holy men object to its use, while others see no thing wrong in it. I would adopt a middle course, and grant you a dispensation to paint one side of your face only."

LIFE.

Wo live in doeds, not yoara—in thoughts, not bnjatii^— In foolinse, not in figures on the dial-; Wo should count time by heartthrobs. He

most lives Who thinks moat, (eels tho noblest, acts tho best.

—Philip James Bailey, 1810,

A correspondent of Modern Society vouches for the tiuth of the following story. - Some vonng lanies at school agreed to give an entertainment at Christmas, The mistress was not to know wuat tbe things were. It went off beautifully. Charade: Ist Scene-—A young couple en gaged. 2nd Scenp.— Ihe Marriage. 3rd Scene,—The delivery of a tele^nm calling him away to India. N. B. Interval of five years, Ist Scene. -He Co nes home and produces tusks, ikins, and great riches, &c. &c. She then throws aside a curtain and displays five little beds containing babies, and says : "Setl,l too, dear Charles, have not been idle "

Vanity Jfair qms this hona fide incident of modern life, and example of luw they do and view things in America. Quite lately a young and very haud.-omc Englishwoman, the wife of an American, vhom ahe had married against the wish of her relations, died while in this country, after a com paratively short illness. She had came to England in the interests of her husband, who meanwhile remained in America. He was apprised of the serious nature of her illness, but took no notice of that intim ation. Un her death being made known to him however, he teat the followitg cable gram :—"Bury remains, send effects."

" Modern Society " says:—Mdlle. Marie Bierc, an actress who obtained notoriety some time since by firing several shots of a revolver in the Place de I'Opdra at a lover who deserted her, and, although she nearly killed him, thought herself ill-used on being awarded six month's imprisonment, will shortly be a princess ! After unsuccessful tours i<i the provinces, during which, won derful to relate, she received many .offers of marriage, she took seriously one which came from Prince Boud-sco, a Molilo- Wallachian. He had read her story, and on the strength of that and a photograph bought in a shop, fell in love and pro posed by letter. She encouraged him, and he came to Palis, saw and conquered. The marriage will take place in a few days at the Russian Church, Rue Daau, and then the happy couple—let ns hope they may bo happy— will start for Bucharest.

GOETHE AND BYRON AS HUS BANDS.

Poets—at least Moore says so in his " Life of Byron "—have not been specially famous for making good husbands. Marriage is always a serious business. Lord Byron mule a sorry mess of it. Goethe did not manage it in the tublimust style. In his youth he indulged pretty freely in incalcul able flirtations ; but when he did marry at last he proved himself a good domestic man, and lived happily with the mother of his family for thirty years. How's this? Because he knew bow to deal wiih women, which Byron did not. Witness the follow ing versicle :

Uso the woman tenderly, tenderly; From a crooked rib God made her slenderly; Straight and strong Ho could not make her; So it you try to bond you'll break her; But let her alone and have her own way, She'll grow more crooked every day. What's to bo done with her, Adam, my boy! Use her tenderly, that's what I aay— To break your own rib will bring you small joy.

THE TRAINING OF CHILDREN.

Sometimes tender, loving mother* hurt their children by lovo and tenderness of the wrong kind. Both are good in their places, but not in excess. In nine cases out of tan a man's life will not bo a success if he does not boar burdens in childhood. If the fond ness or vanity of father or mother has kept him from hard work, if another has always helped him out at the end of his squabble, if what was light always fill to him and what was heavy to some one else, if lie has been permitted to* shirk unil shirking has become a habit, his life will be a failure. On the other hand, if a boy has been brought up to do his part, never allowed to shirk legitimats responsibility or dodge work, whether or not It made his head ache or soiled bis hands, until bearing burdens has become a matter of pride, the heavy end of the wood his choice, the elements of success arc his, and at some time, in so me way, the world will recognise his capacity.

LADIES AND DRESS.

Women are accused by their masculine friends of continually talking about dress Well, perhaps they do; but is there no ex. cuse for them ? Dressing, like music, is a fine art, but the artists are few and expen sive ; so mopt women, being forced either to devise robes for themselves or let some stupid seamstress attire them according to her own lack of taste, are compelled to be come amateurs in dress. Besides, dressing in distinction from merely being clothed is esteemed a necessity at the present day. The period in which, a woman was well dressed when she wore a plain bat well fitting robe with a bit of white at the throat disappeared some yean ago, and the man who complains that women talk perpetually of dress would be the vesy one to complain if his wife or sweetheart were merely well dressed, and not elaborately ornamented. On the other hand, what do men talk, about 1 Why, business, almost without ex ception-stock", real estate, mines, cotton, iron, wheat, hops, or something else in which they seem widely interested, but which they discuss merely on compulsion, and because there is no other method of keeping the wolf from the door except by devoting their entire energies to doing something which they cannot afford to nird anyone else to do for them. Wumeo are exactly in the same position with regard to dress. They talk about it from sheer neces sity. "

ODDS AND ENDS.

Notice of a peal—a flash of ligbtniug. A countryman on seeing the yacht Psyche, exclaimed, " P-s-y-c-h-e I Gosh ! What a way to spell a fish 1" ! It is the seeds of the cucumber that plant the doctor's bill. Watered silk* are the popular fashion for temperance people. Does loss of sleep make a man look worn because it tab s the nap out of him 1 'Ihe inhabitants of the North Pole coun try will be sociable enough when the ice is broken.

Never dcs-pise the meanest metal, Be member that even tin-can be useful on the tail of a dog. The time wasted by men in ',f eeling in the wrong pocket would make the next genera tion rich if they had it. A coloured porter in in Austin store asked the proprietor for a day's leave of absence. "What's up now?' "Dar's a niggah gwine ter get married, and I oughter be present to see him fro." "Who is this coloured man at whose wedding you have to be present ?" " I'se de niggan, boas."

An Irishman wanting to buy a stove, was looking pver a stock in a stote. The dealer in praiaioe a certain stove said, "If you buy one of these stoves, you will save half the coal you would otherwise use." ' Faith,' said Pat, ' then I'd belter take two stoves, and save all tbe coal.'

An advertisement in a New York paper says.:—"An errand boy wanted; oaly a live boy need apply." It is well to be ex plicit in matters of this kind. Tnere is no thing more heartless than to advertise for boys indiscriminately, and have p-rhaps 20 or 30 dead ones apply for the po.-iiion, only to bi disappointed,

The baby rolls upon the floor, Kicks up his tiny feet, And pokes hia toeß into his mouth- Thus making both ends meet.

The dog, attached to a tin pail, Goea howling down the street, And, as he madly bites bis tall, He make th both ends meet.

The butcher slays the pensive pig, Cuts off his ears and feet, And grinds them in a sausage big— Thus making both ends meat.

The Key. Richard Cambridge was one of the contributors to a literary paper called «• Tbe World," published by Dodsley. A note from the editor, requesting an essay, was put into Cambridge's nands one Sunday morning as be was going to church. Dur ing the sermon his wife observed him to be very inattentive, and whispered to him, 'Of what are yon thinking Y 'of the next World, my love,'was the witty reply. When the Earl of Chesterfield was Lord- Lieutenant of Ireland, during the Kebellion of 1745, he was one morning awoke by a K jntleman entering his clumber very abruptly exclaiming -' My Lord 1 My Lord 1 we are nndoae 1 This cojnntry has been agi tated, and by every account I hear, all Ire land is expected to be np immediately.' 1 Pray what o'clock is it ?' said the peer. ' Ten my Lord,' said the gentleman. ' Why then," replied he, veiy calmly, ' I'll get up myself, for I think every man should ba up by 10 o'clock. A man in Fort Worth, Texas, purchased a mule from a farmer for seventy-five dol lars. Some days later he returned, his countenance glowing with an expression of gratitude, and begged; the seller to accept twenty-five dolla's more. ' But I got all 1 asked,' remonstrated tbe honest agricultur ist. ' Never mind,' peraisted the man, ' make it a clean hundred.' The farmer re luctantly accepted the money, and the two were about parting, when the purchaser of the animal said : ' You'll come to the fune ral, won't you ?' ' Whose funeral V asked the other, with a puzzlea look. ' My wife's.1 1 You don't tell me she's dead, poor thing?' • Ye 3; the mule kicked her.1

The history o£ human kind to trace Since Eve, the first of dupes, our doom un-

riddled- A certain portion of the human race Has certainly a tasto for being diddled.

Over the grave of a Springfield, Mass., man, in the old Methodist grounds, who died from the kick of a horse, is the fol lowing quaint epitaph, |cnt in cold marble :— Blame not the beast who sent me to the dust, Tor the God of Nature said he must.

A schoolmaster, in the suburbs of Lon don, who asked a small pupil of what the surface of the earch consists, and was promptly answered, ' Land Bnd water,' varied toe question slightly that the tact might be impressed on the boy's mind, asked ' Wba f, then, do land and watei make ?' to which came the immediate res ponse, 'Mud?' 'Your Honor, the defendant waa making a great deal of noise, aud was swearing at at me.' 'Did he speak English?'asked the defendant's counsel, 'No, sir, he spoke Italian,' ' Then how do you know he was swearing at you ?' ' Wny, I could tell by the wrinkles iv bis face,' replied the officer,

A man in Indiana, on returning home from a business journey recently, found that bis wife, during bis absence, had raffled all the furniture and departed, and the sheriff arrested him for allowing gamb ling on his premises. A fountain in a, public squaie of San Francisco nct'.led painting. An artist agreed to do it for nothing, provided he could take as much time as he pleased for the job and erect a fence to protect him> elf from idle curiosity while at work. The contract was made on those terms. But it seems that the painter has sold the surface of the feoce to advertiser*, and nobody knows how long he will be painting the fountain.

The late Charlei Lever wheu Coniul at Treste, accompanied bis daughter on a visit to London. Lord lytton, hearing of his arrival, invited him to dinner. 'Ah, Lever,' said he, greeting him, ' so glad you were able to come 1 You will meet your chief — Clarendon,' then Minister for Foreign Affairs. But Lever had omitted the formality of applying for leave. ' I fear I must retire - my nose is bleeding.' he replied, making for the door, which at that instant opened, Lord Clarendon being an nounced. After shaking hands with tbe host, his lordship espied Lever before he could make good bis retreat. ' Ah,1 Mr Lever, I didn't know you were in England! I didn't evea know you bad asked for leave.' 'N-n-o, my lord,' stammered the witty novelist-, '1 thought it would be more respectful to yonr lordship to come and ask for it in person.

"Dutch Mail."

A New Yoek paper says that England can boast one editor at least who might be trusted to run a country paper in the United States. In his youtb Sir Richard Phillfpps edited and published a paper at Leicester called the " Hetald." One day aa article appeared in it headed "Dutch Mail," and added to it was an announcement that it had arrived too late for translation, and so had been set up in the original.

This won-Irons article drove half England crazy, and for years the best Dutch scholars squabbled and pored over it without being able to arrive at any idea of what it meant. This famous " Dutch Mail" was in reality merely a column of "pie." "Pie," it may be as well to explain, is a jumble of odd lettera set on end to save their faces from being scraped, to be distributed at the leisure of the printers in their proper place*. Some letters are upside down, often teu or twelve consonants or as many vowels come together, and the whole Is peppered with punctuations, dashes, and so od, till it might pass for poetry by a lunatic Choc taw.

' The story Sir Richird til's of the par ticular "pie" he had a whole hand in is this—

" One evening, before one of our pub. lications, my man and a boy overturned two or three columns of thi paper in type. We had to get ready iv some way for the coaches, which, at four in the morning, required four or five hundred papers. After erery exertion, we were short nearly a column; but there stood on the galleys a tempting column of pie. it suddenly struck me that this might be thought Dutch. I made up the column, oveicame the scruples of the foreman, and bo away the country edition went, with its philological puzzle, to worry the honest agricultural reader's head. There was plenty of time to set up a column of plain English foe the local edition." Sir Richard tells of one man, whom he met in Nottingham, who for thirty-four yeara preserved a copy of the "Leicester Herald," hoping that some day the letter would be explained.

SELECTED POETRY.

THE DYING S9LDIBR.

A hundred paces from the field, Whero mortals fought in dread array. By claßtering brambles, hall concealed A dying soldier lay.

He had received a fatal wound, And slowly thither crept to dio; Hia pillow waa a mossy mound Baneath tho boundless sky.

Tho silent eve was cool and clear, The trees stood forth in sunset's glow; But no physician's hand was near To stay life's crimson flow.

A stillness o'er his senses stole— A dreamy feeling, unexpressed, A weariness of heart and soul, A listless, vague unrest.

He oped his eyes in faint distress, And saw 'mong grasses, dewy, chill, Some violets in their russet dress, Beside a shimmering rill.

Ho fondly gazed on those blue flowers, And thought on England's pleasant lanes, Of early loves and hazel bowers, And happy village strains.

Ho saw the cot through memory's tears, Where Love's first throes ho keenly felt, And where in childhood's soldon years, His earliest teacher dwelt.

He traced in fancy all the flowers, And all the friends he knew so well; And felt tho warmth of summer hours. Along the -woodland dell.

Ho saw tha landßcapa, bright and fair. The grey stone churck and cypress tree; And lisped onco more the Saviour's prayer, Upon hia mother's knee.

Ho saw the form of her ho loved. She whom he called hii faithful Kate; Who falsely smiled and faithless proved— And left him to his fate.

The violets seemed with warnings fraught. All deeply huol with blue of heaven; He thought of aU the Ills he'd wrought, And prayed to lee forgiven,

Ho grasped tho violets 'neath the thorn ( In starry twilight, cold and grey, And ere the breaking of the morn His soul bad passed away.

—John Blackman.

CHOICE EXTRACTS.

a tjjabned fool is more foolish than an ignorant fool.

Tho greatest question of life is: " What shall we do V

He who loves little, prays little; be who loves much, prays much— Austin. Be bold and' bold, and everywhere be bold, but not too bold.— Old Legend. 'Tis but a step out of a chalk circle of imbecilicy into fruitfulnces. — Emerson.

They are never alone who are accompanied by noble thoughts'.— Sir Philip Sidney. It is not what you see that makes you popular among your friends; it is what yon don't tell. . .

The one doctrine in which all religions agrea is that new light is added to the mind iv proportion as it uses that which it has.— B, W. Emerson.

Diversity of worship his divided the human race into seventy-two nations. From all ttheir dogmas I have selected one— Divine Love.— Persian, 11th century. So it is that a great, silent, moving misery puts a new stamp on as in an hour or a moment, as sharp an impression as if it had taken half a lifetime to engrave it. — Oliver Wendell Holmes,

Foolish are they who are perpetually in quiring where the Deity resides. God dwells iv all things in his fulness. Kioa are of different colors, bat all milk is white, j The flowers on altars are of many species, but all worship is ane. Systems of faith are different, but God i 9 one.— Hindu.

lnexhaustable good nature is the most precious gift of heaven, spreading itself like oil over tho troubled sea of thought, and keeping the mind, smooth and equable in the roughest weather.— Washington biting. The object of all religions is alike. All men seek the object of their love, and all the world is love s dwelling. Why talk of a mosque or a church? He alone is a true Hindu whoso heart is just; and he alone is a true Mohammedan whose life is tine,— Nanac Shah, Hindu,

Violent excitement exhausts the mind and leaves it withered and sterile.

Levity is often less foolish and gravity less wise than each of them appear. The men who learn endurance are they who call the whole world brother. <

Goodness consist* not in the outward things we do, but Id the inward things .we are. . .-■';■

Tho man who wishes all is very strong in comparison with one wbo wishes but half. Good taste rejects excessive nicety; it treats little things as little thing?, and la not hurt by them. Truth never turns to rebuke falsehood ; her own straightforwardness is the severest correction.

Bleesedness consists in the accomplish ment of our desires, and in our having only regular desires.

The virtue of a man ought to be measured, not by his extraordinary exertions, but by bis everyday conduct.

A great deal depends upon a man's courage when he is slandered and traduced. Weak men are crushed by detraction, but the brave hold on and succeed.

Every mind was made for growth, for ' knowledge; and its nature >U sinned against when it is doomed to ignorance. ': ■' We ought always to deal justly, not only with those who are just to us, but likewise ' with those who endeavour to injure us, ' and this, too, for fear lest, by rendering them evil for evil, we shbnld fall into the same vice. ■"

To suppose tbat certain individuals are favoured through life with a frequent recur-1' reace of advantageous chances, while others are; exposed to the reverse, is inconsistent with the laws of nature and wUh every idea which we can form of a just and beneficent Deity.

In the height of thy prosperity expect adversity, but fear it not; if it come not, thon art the more sweetly possessed of the happiness thou bast, and the more strongly confirmed; if it come, thou art the more gently dispossed of the happiness thou nadst, and the more firmly prepared.

EDITORIAL QUALIFICATION.

Tho editor of the British Medical Journal, at a professional dinner, in retaining thanks for bis health being drunk, quoted a hu morous American poem, in which these lines occur:

Can ho leave all his wrongs to the future, and

carry his heart in his cheek? Can ho do an hour's work in a minute, and Uvo

upon sixpence a-week? Can ho courteously talk to an equal, and brow beat an impudent dunce, 1 Can he keep things In applo-pio order, and do half-a-dozen at once? Can he press all the springs oE knowledge with quick and reliable touch. And bo sure that he knows how much to know, and knows how to not know too much! Does ho know how to spur up bis virtues, and put a check-rein on his pride 1 Can he carry a gentleman's manners within a rhinoceros'hide? Can he know all, and do all, and be all, with cheerfulness, courage, and vim i If so, we perhaps can bo making an Editor " outer of him." , And 'tis thus ■with our noblo profession, and

thus it will ever bo; still Thero are somo who appreciate its labours, ana some who, perhaps, nevor will.

The Imperial Parliament.

What a Seat Cost3.-Vio»ifica»t Fact*. * '.',

THE following figures showing the cost;of contested elections in England since 1880 wM wo imagine, cool the ardour of those ; colo'nlal politicians whose ambition it v to some day to obtain a seat in the House of Commons. Ie appears the North Riding B tu"(;lecost £15,000, of which the share of Mr Dawnay, the successful candidate, amounted to £9,447. North Durham coat £13,733, of which Sir George Elliot paid £7,156. The Noi them division of the West Riding comes next, with, £13,500; then North Lincoln, £10,922; West Cheshire, £8,263 ; Carnarvonshire, £7,200, of which Mr Rathbone paid £4,000; and East Corn, ■wall, £6,900, The returns from Derby are incomplete, but the election cost nearly o £8,000, of which Mr Porter spent half. This contest for the shire of Bute cost £3,670: ! Mr Dalrymple paid at the rate of £3 17s 4d for every vote he received,'and Mr Russell at the rate of £2 12s 6d. M'igton Bnrghf? cost £2,176. Sir John Hay's votes cost him £112* 6d each, and Mr McMickmg s were obtained for £116s 7d per head. Bel fast election cost over £11,000; Walling ford, £2,392, or nearly £2 for every voter in this agricultural borongh; and Carnar. yon boroughs £3,450 for 4,223 voter*. —