COMMERCIAL.

September Returns. Tub following statement shows the amount of Customs duties collected at the port of Auck land, in the Colony of New Zealand, for tho month ol' September, 1883 :— Spirits, Us per gallon 50ns tj lj j Ditlo, lils per gaon 58 15 11 ' Ditto,] 2s dot gallon 103 11 3 : .Cigars, cigarettes, and snuff, (is por lb. .. .. ~ JOG 1 11 I Tobacco, ?sC,d per Ib. .. \\ " 3 ,Tl§ 05; \\ me, os per gallon .. .. 385 7 G' JJilto(S|mrklinKl, (is per gallon .'.' 56 S li I ■Wine (Australian), Is per gallon .. 150 17 8 .Ale and beer, &c. (in bottle), Is Gil i per gallon 37G 1 0 Ale and beer, &c. (in wood), Is 3d per gallon 4" 16 3 Tea Id peril). 01G 11 3 Coflee, cocoa, chicory, and choeo- I late, 3d peril) 101 12 9 bugar, molasses, ami glucose, Id .. 1.1S!) IS 8 Goods by weight 1,556 19 3 Ad valorem 10.75S 1!) fi Other duties not specified above .. 1,137 19 1 Total £25,809 10 1 Deer duty 90.5 15 1 uold duty SSO 2 0 Quarterly Returns. The following is n comparative return showing the amount of Customs duties collected at the port of Auckland [or the quarter ending Sep tember 30, 18S3 : £ s d Spirits, 12s per gallon 2l(> 0 G Spirits, 11s per gallon 17,782 10 8 Spirits, perfumed. 21s per gallon .. 9!) 15 0 Cigars and snull". Us per lb 1,913 y 8 Tobacco, 3s fid per lb 10,061 8 3 Tobacco, shcepwash, 3d per lb .. 2 1!) ? Wine, 5s per gallon 1,095 17 A AVino, sparkling, !).s per gallon .. lot' •?» Wine, Australian,-Is per gallon .. 3C </ f< Ale, beer, &c., in bottle, la Bd per <* $ Vl gallon .„ Ale. beer, &c., in wood, Is 3d pc- I#l9 8 0 gallon .. .. «■' Tea, Id per lb. .. .. - .J*ll 3 Collbe. cocoa. &c, 3d per lb . - 3,270 11 ,1 Sugar and molasses, Jd per ,;• " • i!S D 12 •' Opium. 20s per lb. .. -^ '- 1,330 12 0 Goods by weight .. •- ■■• 26 1 3 Ad valorem, 10 per cc- « •- ■•■• s,lK> 510 Ad valorem. 25per' *'<• •■ •• 31,908 J3 (i Otherduticsnots a^ove ;; *«. Total .."Him The amo' , ,_ . L , .. ing quart am collected during tho correspond £B3,2ls 1 -MM tie previous yeur amounted to JS- t H I* ilovenuo Summarised. T1 aICi following Is n summary of receipts and pay. Jttcnls by II.M. Customs at tho port of Auck land for the quarter ending September 30\ Consolidated Revenue, viz.: fi b d Customs duties .. .. .. .. 82,GSS 5 4 Boer duty 2492 0 8 Bonding warehouse duty .. .. 13 17 s Shipping and Seamen's and Mor* ' chant Shipping Act fees .. .> |>ie iq i. Light dues, pilotage, &c .. .. 38 17 a Sale of charts .. ~ ~ 118 fl 1 Land Revenue: Gold duty .. .. „ ; i3ii v - Harijour EBVBSVB .. .. '590 15 0 Auctioneer* „ 2l 'jj " Q 'r °tttl i £87,923 13 2

AUCKLAND PRODUCE MARKET.

Farm and Dairy Produce, — Wholosalo: Butter, fresh, 8d; Buttor, salt, W to 9d; Cheese, food local. fid to GJd: Canterbury, do., fijd to 8d; ggs, per doz., lOd; Lard, per bladder, Gd to 7d ; Bacon and Hums, Provincial, 6d to Sd: Hams, Sd to 9d; Canterbury Ham andßacon, BJd to 9Jd, in cloth: Hams only, lid; Jams, per case, sdoz., £117s fid to £1 18s d; Fowls, per pair, 2s 6d to Is; Feathers, baked, clean and selected, up to 2s per lb. Retail: Milk, per quart, 4d; Butter, fresh, lOd; salt d0.,10d to Is: Cheese, colonial,do.,9d to lOd ; Eggs, per doz.. Is ; Lard, per lb, Gd to 9d; Fowls, each, 2a to 3s; Ducks, do., 2s to 3s; Goeso, do., 5s to 7s ; turkeys, do., each, 5s to 8s fid; Bacon, pcrlb, lOd to Is; Hums, do., Is tola Id. Flock Market. — Wholcsalo — Superfine flour, sil It dressed, per ton, £1310s; do, do, house hol(l-,!£l210s; hundreds, ss; fifties, 10 perton extra, sacks and bags free ; Southern do, £10 to £12; bran, per ton, sacks included, locnl> £510s; South ern, do, fii to£s Hs ; sharps, £,ilos ; cabin bread, do, £1*', oatmeal, do, £13 ; pearl barloy, do, £2i to .21 ; bread, pcrJb loaf, 3id. Kauri Gum. FLAX, &c—Tho market con tinues dull. We quoto:—Ordinary, £32 to £37; good ordinary, £10; East Coast, £50 to £51; ■produoo, for October to date, GO tons; Jlax por ton, £18 to £21; tow, do., £7 to £9; fungus per lb, 2Jd to 3d; coeoanut fibre per cwt, ■los to 17s; beeiftax, 9d to lOd lb. Coal ani* Firewood Market.—Coal: New castle (sM'p's side), cargo, 30s to 338 per ton; yard, Sis to 355; Hay of Islands, at yards, 275, scareo; screened, 30s; ditto at the mine, l?s ship's side, 25s to 2Gs; Waikato, 8s to 12s; in Auckland, 18s to 2'2s; ICanio, 12s per ton at loading ground; Taupiri at mine, Ss6d to'2s; at yard, lSs G.I to 225; Wlumgarei, at mine, !)s 6d; yard (steam), 17s; household, 21s; delivered, 235. Firewood: Uncut at wharf (cargo), 9s to 10s per ton ; delivered, Us; cut. 17a to 18s. Buir.mxfi Materials.—Timber: Boards and Bcanthng, lOOt't, best, lls ; second-class, 8s Gd1; best, planed, tonguod, and grooved, first-class, S(is; medium, 13a; second ditto, lls. Mills: Cargo, host, lls: second-class, (is; baulk, 8s Gd. New Zealand palings, oft (sap), V!s ; sft (heart), 13s; Gft, 13s; tl-treo rails. £i 10s por 101; puriri posts, «G 10s to £7 10s; shingles, lUs fid per 1,000; Hoburt palings, sl't, *0s ; lift, 225; Hobart rails, 100a, selling quotations. Bricks (at Avomlulc), COs per 1,000; town yards, Bos to 70s ; delivered, M)s. Drain pipes (at workc), por 100 (G inches bore), 10s; 1 inches, Ms ; 3 inches, Ha; 2 Inches, *2 10s per 1,000; socket glazed pipes, 19 inches; 2s Gd per foot; 15 inches, 2s per loot; 12 inches. Is Gd por foot; 0 inches, Is por foot; 0 inches, 6d per foot: 4 inches, Id pur foot. Manures.—Bonedust, Sydney, £0 10s to£io, according to quality; boncflour, £9; Auckland £7 to £S 10s; Peruvian guano, £18; Maiden Island, £3; Huon guano, small lots, £5 to £G, bags included; Hurst's chemical manure, £11 10s. Hay and Corn Market.—Wholesale: Maize, local, 3s to 3s 3d; oats, 2s Gd to 2s 9d; wheat, is Gd to is 9(1; fowl, 3s Gd ; barley, 2s 9d to 3s 3d; malting barley, 5s to 5s 3d; hay, meadow, por ton, pressed, £G to £G ss; lucerno, do., £6 to £6 10s (nominal); straw, per load, 18s to £110»; chalT, mixed. *5; oaten cha'F, *6; hay, oaten, *5 to £0; clover, £510s to £G; potatoos, per ton, £3 15s to £4 ss. Retail: Maize, 3s 9d to 4s: oats, do., 2s !)d to 3s 3d; bran, per lOOlbs., 6s; sharps, per lOJlbs., 6s; wheat, fowl, per bushel, 3s 6d to 4s; barley, feod do., 8s lid to Is; hay, per cwt, Cs Cd to 7s; lucerno, do., 7s Gd to 8s; oaten, do., 6s to 7s; straw, do., 3s to Is; chaff, do., 6sto 7s Gd.

BIRTHS, MARRIAGES, DEATHS.

BIRTHS. ARNOLD.—On Soptember 13th, at St. Stephen's Road, Parnoll, tho wife of Charles Lo Nere Arnold of a son. • ADAMS.—On September 23th. at Homo Bay, Ponsonby, tho wife of William Adams of a daughter. „, , , BAHNETT.—On September 18, at Charlcoto, Rcmuora, tho wife of Mr Tom Barnett of a CLEVELAND.—On Soptember 20, at her rosi ■donco, Victoria Avenue, Eden Terrace, tho wife of F. A. Cloveland of a son. BLARK.—On Soptombor 29th, at Grafton Road, tho wife of R. It. Clark of a son. COX.—On Soptcnibcr 29th, at Selwyn-streot, Onehunga, tho wife of Honry Cox, locomotivo driver, of a son. Both doing well. DAJ.IPIER.-On September 26 at Angluspa streot, Ponsonby, th» wifo o{ W. H. Dampier EL LJS.^On August 26th, at Ellerslie, the wifo of J. B. Ellis of a son. GELDART.—On September tl, at her residence, Manukau Road, Parnell, the wifo of Francis Gcldart of a daughter. GIBB-On Soptember 27, at her residence, Richmond Road, tho wife of William F. Glob of a daughter. ~ HANNAFORD. —At her residence, tho Auckland Registry, Upper Queen - street, Mrs T. B. Hannaford of a son. Both doing HARDING.-On October 2nd, at Grafton Rood, the wife of A. Harding of a son. HOLMWOOD.-At Brighton, Parnell, on the 12Ui Soptombor, tho wifo of Bernard Holm- HAIUUSoV.—On September U, at Epsom, tho wife of M. H. Harrison of a son, KEXSLNGTON.-On Octobor 4th, at Avenue Road, Parnoll, Mrs Wm. C. Kensington of a KNAGGS.-On Soptember 16, at Shelly Beach Jtoad, Ponsonby, the wifo of Richard Knaggs MARKs"-On 17th inst., at West-street, Nowton, the wifo of John Marks of a daughter. MKTCALFE.-On September 11, 1884, at her residence, Abercrombie-slroct, tho wife of vv. MASSKY.—On Soptember 27, at her residoncc, Porcival Parade, Ponsonby, the wifo of W. J. McCULLii aH d-^Sei;kembor27th.atC.arence. street, Ponsonby, the wife of J. G. McCullagh MURRAY.—On October it, at Franklin Rood, the wife of T. Murray of a son. NAUGHTON.—On Soptomber 17, at the AC. Station, Helensville, tho wifo of Constable NaiiKhton of a daughter. ral i fnn OTEILL.-On Soptember 19th. at Hamilton, Waikato, the wife of Lowis O'Neill, barrister- PEAROk— On°sfepteinber 19, at Auckland, tho wifu of Arthur Pciirco of a son. KAYNES.—On the 13th September, at Darga ville the wife of Mr G. Raynus of a daughter. RFDFERN.-On September 25th, at Richmond Road the wife of R. Redfern of a son. ROWS -On '.'3rd September, Shelly Beach Road," Ponsonby, tho wife of Mr & Rowc, sSte-OnS oo%mWlß,atthore g id e nco o C HTOlivo, Blake-street. Ponsonby, the wifo of W Spikeinan of a daughter. . SC'OTT-On September '5, at her residence, Mount Eden the wife of Andrew Scott, punr., SJHTiL-On September ' VSl^miW'a Ponsonby, the wito of R. M. bmitn ol v. SMITH!-On September 3th, atlthe residencesof Mrs Griffin. Vincent-street, tho wife of Mr vv. W. Smith, Waitaria, Gisbornc; of a son- SMITH.-On September 23rd, at her res^denoej St. Stephen's Avenue, Parnell, tho Me »' Arthur Smith of a daughter ; both doing wol. SHERA.-On the 23rd September, at her icsv dencc, ■ Remuora, Mrs 3. M. Shora oi a SHES^-On September 16th, at Church-strcct, Devonport, the wife of John Sheen of a son. SOLOMON.-On Soptember 20th, at her resi dence, Vincent-street, the wife of Mr Laurie TAYLOI"—On September 13th, at Alborton, Mrs Allan Kerr Taylor, of a son. TOLE.—On September 1 -.the wife of J. A. T ole, TAYLOR.—On October 2nd, at Newton, the wife of G. F. Taylor of a son. TVATJRRICK —On September 17th, at Devon ptrt North Shore, the wifo of Alf.Warbrick WYMAN -On September 27, at hor renidence, Mount Eden Road, the wife of W. H. Wymon W°ma°NSoN.-0n September sth at Lincoto %tn>pt Ponsonby, tho wife of Mr William WiikSison Tt a son.-Thames papers please WOODLOCK.-On Soptember nth, at hoi residonce, Commercial Road, Newton, the wife of J. L. Woodlock, of a daughter. WELCH.-On Soptomber U, at her residence, Cambria Lodge, Onehunga, tho wife of b. J. Welch of a daughter. .. VVISHART.-On September 17. at her residence ; Liverpool-street, the wife of Mr A. Wißhart 01 - a son.

MARRIAGES.

A:\SIAMp-BRpWN.-On Monday, Soptom • per 111, at St. licncdict's Church, tfowton, by the Rev. Father Downey, 0.5. H., James Ansenne.of Auckland, to Frances Brown, o£ BUCKLANp-TAYLOR.-On October 3,atSt, , John's College, by the Rev. X H. Gulfiret -ftl.A., Alfred, second son of Alfred Rn^klttnd i Esq., of Auckland, to Lnunv jtf»ft dßlitrhtei' I\St Tain lakl! Ord J' &*>'^owlo, CHEESEMAN^POra-JOn August 2, by the S^IamASSS ECJKiEV-SMITH.-On August3o, at the resi- V. c. n?, c. of "ie bride's father,Tjy the ltov. W. J, \\ atkiji, Richard, eldest son of Mr X Fcl-lov or Auckland (Into of Cardiff, Wales) to Aiiniu , Liiman, second daughter of Mr J. H Smith milder, Morntagsido, Mount Albert!-)" „, « papers please copy. <iuinu HOLMES-HOWKLL-On Soptomlw 17, i«i at the Registry Office, ffi£iffl Holmes to Caroline Alice Howek "mA W hanKaroa North, to Maria li r.l in- "i 100' Mr William Lainif J[alci>' •* "> J- I-'U|U'-'.V, ,V.;..m(. 5cr.,,,,,1 sni-vivi .- ••«>^rt. fonnnisoibn Malcolnison ICs.i of - v'*»of the late JamM Scotland^ to Jane ' ,-<^»»->.V, Abcrdcensliiro, the late John D ,^n?»-,secoftd datipi'.ror oT ton, London. .«WMy, Ksq., Artist, Kciwing- Benedict's AVigust 12th, at St. Father J .Miurch-, NflwtOn, by the Rev. lloal- J v Mvney, Kcnry McVcigli to Ellen , ~*-.\1.:i(.-IX(;i(AM.-At AncKland, on sti )Xl> Heptrmber, Kob-ri JteConnc-li of Via-ttii to Jtary Inffi-ant, lilto of Tuakau. i'dn'AA-FIiYN^.-Oii Uio 25th September, by i the Ucvr. Fathpf Wnltcr MacdonnUl, at the Catholic (Vi'.Uedral, Joseph Silva to K. Niellv Flynn.. eldest daughter o£ l\lr W. Flynn, of Port thsjroy, Bltr Marrier. SALTIOIt-aAINTY.—On September 27th, by the Hey. J. Batcn, at Holy Trinity Church, Dovpnport, Robi'rt, Son of Kicliard Saltcr, to Jlatilda Siirah, daughter of Captain Salnty, North Sho'fo. STONJC -r.IGBY.-On the 26th Septembor, at . SI. Mathias' Church, Woollahra, Sydney, N.S.W., by the Rev. Dr. Barry, LI/.D.- ArUmr, youngest son of C. J. Stone, ESq.; of ! Auckland, N.Z., to Minnie, ydungest daughter of tho late William Rigby, Ksq., o£ Mt. St. John, Epsom, and formerly of liivbrpool, Eng- - land. WELLS~IiONG, T Oh September 1, at tho llcnui Ohailcl, Uaranaki, by tho father of the bridoi '.'hiirlos Archer, eldest son of tho late Mr U, Wells, to Emma, youngest daughter of the I!cv. J. Long. WAIU)—PKAKCIC—On the 17th September, at the Registry OIHco, Auckland, Thomas Ward, | oldest son of Mr Ward, Newton, to Rebecca I Ann Pearco, daughter of the Into Simon Jamca Pearce, Ksq. I WALTERS—ROSE.—On Octobor Ist, by tho ' Registrar. George Walters, of Auckland, to i Kloanor Elizabeth Rose, late of Monscl-strcot, : Swansea. I WILSON — CRAIG. —On July SGth, at tho ' Registry Ofllco, Auckland, Frederick J. Wil- | son, Wairoa South, to Sarah, third daughter , of Thomas Craig, Esq., Ilardinge-stfeet, ! Auckland, I

DEATHS.

BOYD.—On September 11, by accidont at Corby mine, Cofomandol, John T., only beloved son j of John and Mary Ann Boyd, and grandson of the late John Boyd, Seneschal of Newry, and J.P. for Down and Armagh j aged 2G years, ! Deeply regretted; — Newry, Belfast, and ' Loughborough papers please copy. BROWN.-On the 29th Septomber, at his father's 1 rosidonco, Victoria-street West, Francis, the j bolovod and only child of Charles and Emily ' Brown, aged 3 months t CROWE.—On September 23, Alice Ethel, socond , daughter of Mr P. Crowd ngod 3 years and 8 months. CHEW. — On. Soptombcr 3nth, at his late residence, Kamo, Whangarei, Joseph Kalpli Crow, late of Ilowick ; aged 58 years. DACItE.—On July 2«, at Clanham, London, Margaret, wife of Ranulph Daero, formerly of Auckland ; aged 70. DYER.—On September 29th, at Oshornc-street, Newmarket, Ivato Winnoford, child of John Dyer, aged 7 weeks. FRASKR.—At Waipu, on September 13, Rodo rick Fraser; aged 7,'!. FITZPLUMLEY.-On Soptember 21, Lney. second daughter of Jmnrs Fitzplumley; aged II) Tears. HENLEY.—On September 11th. at the Thames, John Henley. HOWARD.—On October 3rd, at his residence, Scotia Place, Upper Queen-street, S. Howard ; aged175. KlfrßY.—On September lGth, at his father's residence. Chapel Square, Patrick Michael Klrby, beloved son of Win. Kirby; aged 11. LEYS.—On September 12th, Muriel Jean, infant daughter of T. W. Leys; aged four months. LUSH.—On September 15th, Charles Hawkins, eldest son of .tho Into Venurublo Archdeacon Luah : aged 31 years. LYNCH.—On September 21, at tho residence of bar son-in-law (Mr P. Cilocson), Catherine Lynch; aged G3. MUNRO.—On September 12, Donald Stewart Munro, eon of tlio lato Robert Muiiro;agod !) SfiJLLINS.—On Soptember 113, at her mother's (jlre lmpey), Svmonds-street, Annie, the beloved wife of It. Mullins, of Coromandcl, aged SO. SI AUKS.—■ On tho ?4th September, at Wust-st., Newton. Isabella, the beloved wife of Jno. Marks, Engineer. " Fell asleep in Jesus." MANN.—On September !LUI, W3, Elizabeth Mann; aged 22 years. McLEOD.-On September 18th, at his residence. Great North. Road, John McLood, In hiss9th your, brother of Captain Jiiines McLuod, of the Hay of Island*.—Wellington papers please MlL PLS.-On October 3, in his 89th year, James John Mills. May his soul rest in peace. NAUUHTON.—On September iH, at the A.C. Station, Helonsville, Nora Tlicrcja, infant daughter of Constable Naughton. OAKLEY.—At Mount Edon, Septembur 17th, Elizabeth Oakley, tho beloved wife of Albert Oakley (Into of Fielding) ; auod 30 yours. PHITOIIAUO.—On tho loth August, ltfS3. at her lato residence, Talimatau Upolu. Samoa, after a lingering illness, Atalina, the beloved wifo of G. A. Pritchard. PHILLIPS.—On September 21, nt his rosidonco, Chapel-Btreot, Adam Phillips, of Rolfnst, Ireland, tho beloved husband of Martha Phillips.—liolfast papers plcaxo copy. POIITKU.—On 29:h September, at Richmond Hoad, David, infant son of J. W. and Rachel Porter; aged" weeks. ROGERS.—On Septomber 30th, I*B3, Olivo May Rogers, aged 5 years, tho bolovod daughtor of Henry and Jane Rogers. SMITH.—On 28th inst., at Vincent Lane, Samuel Murray Smith; aged 38 yoars. SHANNON.—At To Awamutu, on tho 11th Sept., William Shannon, lato of Auckland ; aged 29 years. SANDERSON.—At Onchungn, on Septomber 11, Susannah Rachel Sandorson, in the DSth year of her age. SMITH.—On tho 20th September, at Carlton Gore Road, Newmarket, Blanch Ellen, 3rd and youngest daughtor of Thomas and Olivia Smith; aged G months. STEEL.—On the Ist October, at Bath-stroot, Par nell, Margaret, the wifo of T. Steol; aged 78 Years. VAZEY.—At Hobsonsville. on October Ith, Emma, tho bolovod wifo of George F. Vazoy. WILLS. —On October 3, Robert Wills, at his residence, Chapel Square, aged 13. WOOLLAMS.—On September 8, 1883, at Fair lawn, Coromandcl, Margarot, tho bolovcd wifo of Fred. Woollams, Esq., in her 4ith WALKER.—On 11th Soptember, drowned, near Little Barrier Island, N.Z., James, tho youngest and beloved son of Alexander Walker; aged WAKDELL.—On Soptcmbor 28, Mr Francis Joseph Wardellj aged 42 years. *~* I

CRIMEAN CELEBRATION.

Several months ago, the proposal was mado that the Crimean veterans resident in Auckland and surrounding districts should celebrate the then approaching anniversary of tho fall of Sebastapol by a banquet. The idea was warmly takon up and enthusias tically carried to a most successful conclu sion. The gathering was held on Sept. 10, in the Commercial Dining Rooms, there being 40 veterans present in addition to Superintendent Thomson, chief of tho local police, Major Shephord, Commanding Officer of the Volunteers, and the represen tatives of the various newspapers. Apologies for non-attendance were received from His Worship the Mayor, Major-General Gossett, and Colonel Lyon. The1 hall in which the dinner was laid was most artistically decor ated, stars being formed on the wall of swords, of ramrods, bayonets and revolvers, and of ramrods, sword bayonets, and scab bards. Stands of arms were also arranged with due regard to effect. There were also on tho wall printed streamers, containing names of battle-fields and places _ which figured prominently in connection with the Crimean campaign. To one whose acquaint ance with the stirring and memorable events of that period is dependent upon history, the; appearance of the company of veterans, every one of whom wore several medals on his breast, and many of whom bore the external evidence of some encounter, was interesting in the extreme. The assem blage comprised the following :— C. N. McMurdo, Land Transport Corps ; W. J. Robertson, H.M.S. Vengeance; A. Cairns, H.M.S. Hastings ; Captain Loverock, trans j port Bournabax ; R. May, H.M.S. Tiger, Jos. Forrest, 10th Hussara ; G. Linthwaitel 6th Carbineers ; 11. Harrison, Army Medical Staff; H. W. Napper, H.M.S. Sanspareil; ' W. Tower, H.M.S. Transit; W. H. Hazard, ■ H.M.S. Cossack; T. T. Anderson, 79th i Highlanders; W. Steen, 57thInfantry 4 Cap : tain Burningham, H.M.S. Retribution; Cap tain Handley, Scots Greys ; Dr. Bayntun, Army Medical Staff; H. T. Howe, H.M.S. Albion; H. White, H.M.S. Diamond; , Jas. Madigan, Land Transport Corps ; J. H. , Waite, 97th Infantry ; W. Pryke, 6th En ' niskillen's.; Captain Tunks, 68th Infantry ; . ' J. Oliver, 38th Infantry ; J. Salt, 6th Ennis ■ : killen's ; Dr. Tennent, H.M.S. Feroze ; F. Such, sth Dragoon Guards; G. Lyon, 89th ' Infantry ; P. Johnstone, 72nd Highlanders; W. Kelsall, 33rd Infantry ; Dr. Stockwell, A. Medical Staff; Rowland Hill, H.M.S. 1 Leopard; Captain McPherson, 93rd High . landers; Dr. Monkton, H.M.S. Hastings ; : P. Whelan, 50th Queen's Own; Thos. Ashley, lOthHussars; Captain Haddock; \V . 1 Monro, H.M.S. Tiger; J. Thorpe, Army Work Corps; E. G. Clements, H.M.b. • Wellington. The dinner was a most recherche one, and every detail down to tho printing of the menu reflected 1 credit upon the establishment. Captain ti 1 E.-Handley (late Royal Scots Greys) pre sided, and was supported by Messrs Ihom ! son and Shepherd. The vice-chair was occupied by Mr A. Cairns (H.M.S. Hast | ings), The gathering was an unqualified ,7 success... -

NAMELESS; OR, NOBODY'S DARLING.

BY JENNY WREN. (Written for tho "Star Supplement.") * j CHAPTER VI, j MRS GRERX'j" lIEMISISCENCES. MkAXwUjwr Namie still watched by tho fete&ptag child, who really seemed a little better. The other children were in bed, ■ and Naiaio prevailed on tho raothor to lie do/ivn a little while, as the patient was So 1 quiet. The light burned low in the silent room, and Namie's thoughts How back to 1 Aunt Rachel and the Captain as she fell a-tlmikirig ot her birthday and tho tender words that had accompanied Aunt Rachel's gift that morning, and all'unwittingly the thought arose, " I wonder why Auntie Ims never spoken of my parents, arid why she calls me ' Nameless' so tenderly sometimes, so seldom giving mo tho name of ' Agnes' ? Then a more tender thought sent the crim- j son Hush to cheek and brow as she won- j dored "whether Archie would remember' her now that he_ was away at College '!" And j as she sat so still, while only tho ticking of the clock or the low breathing of the sleep ing children broke the silence of the night watch, her hands fell listlessly into her lap and her eyes closed for very weariness. Slio knew not how long she had slept, but when she awoko with a sudden start, Mrs Green was sitting besido her, looking with a strange, earnest wistfulness into her face. : "Oh! dear! have I been asleep?" cried Namie. "I'm sorry ;is Patty worse ?" "No, no, dear," replied the mother, "she's doing right well now; and with God's blessing we'll have her all right again soon. This sleep will be the saving of tho clear lamb." Yet Mrs Green seemed strangely agitated, Namie thought, and continued to watch her with that peculiar wistful expression, saying never a word. Presently a low knock was heard, and the Captain entered with Miss Carthrew. "He had come to take Miss Naraie home," he said, " and Miss Carthrew would relievo guard." That lady expressed her intention of ro mainingall night, insisting that the weary mother should scok her couch, lost sho should become ill from fatigue. So, having been assured that little Patty was mending, and that Namie was well wrapped up against the cold night air, tho Captain bado them good night, and accompanied Namio homo to Peggies faithful charge A few words of loving greeting and tender care from Miss Rachel, who insisted on her taking the hot cup of cocoa Poggio had prepared, and then tho weary gin lay down to rest, peaceful and happy in tho consciousness of having dono what sho could. Happy Namie! tho God of tho orphan hath cared for theo ; and while the eyes of thino earthly guardians soo tho sable cloud, thou canst only catch tho slimmer of its silver lining. Miss Carthrew had tho satisfaction of seeing tho weary mother sleeping quiotly besido her littlo ones, secure in tho know ledge that her watchful oyo would directly note- any chango in tho still sleeping patient. Day was just breaking when Mrs Green nwokc from tho slumber tired nature had demanded, and found Miss Carthrew in the act of preparing a steaming cup of cofl'eo, which sho directly prevailodupon tho anxious mother to drink, declaring that the child was rapidly improving, tho feverish symptoms abating, tho pulso more regular, the breathing less laboured and difficult, as tho littlo sull'erer lay still and tranquil in a sweet life-restoring sleep. " So I think I will leave you for a while, Mrs Green," added tho lady, " and by-and by Miss Kachel will most likely come in." " Thanks for all your kindness, Miss," re plied Mrs Green. "I feel a new creature after that lino sleep; and, if I may bo ko bold, I would very much like an hour's talk with you and Miss Rachel after you luivo taken some rest. I have a communication to make that 1 think will in part repay you for all your goodness to me and mine.'' Miss Carthrew looked at her wondoringly, but forbore to question her, as, with a grate ful pressuroof tlie hand, she bode her "Good morning," and returned homo to snatch a fow hours' sloop before tho eight o'clock breakfast, which tho Captain hud promised to share with thorn, True to his word, tho old gentleman appeared precisely at that hour on tho verandah of Rcoria Cottage. Namii; was busy with Poggio in tho dairy, and Miss Kachel preparing breakfast as he entered. Sho advanced to meet him witli eager inquiries respecting the child, which he answered favourably, having just called at tho dame's cottage. Fresh and bright as a mountain daisy, Namio eamo in to ro coivo her morning greeting and thank the Captain for the welcome contents of the parcel he had left for her. "I was just longing for a now book and somo fresh music, sho said, gratefully, " and they are just lovely." "That's all right, littlo ono," ho replied, "and I shall ask the favour of half-an hour'a entertainment presently, while Miss Rachel pays Mrs Green a morning call. 1 am glad to see you quito rofroshod after your nursing last night. "Oh ! thanks ; I'm not at all tired this morning, Captain," sho answored gaily. "Peggie seemed afraid to wako me, sho moved about so softly; but you know I love my flowers too well to sleoplate." Miss Rachel looked fondly at her bright, animated countenance, and sighed softly to herself as the thought again intruded, "I must toll her tho truth." "Good morning, Captain,"said Miss Car thro'/, " I hope you have not been waiting, breakfast for me, Rachel," sho continued ; " I did not think it was so lato." "I did not wish to disturb you, dear," replied Rachel, "as I heard you enter your room at daybreak. I intended sending your breakfast to you presently." "Tut tut! that would never do. You and I have an errand of importance this morning. Mrs Green desires to mako a communication of peculiar interest. lam quite curious to learn its import." So, after breakfast, they left Namio to entertain the Captain, and went over to Mrs Green's cottage, wondering greatly what tho tale might bo that eho wished to unfold. The littlo patient was docidedly better, and already tho good woman had sent tho other children out to play in the sunshine, and " ridded up" tho littlo room in expectation of her visitors/ She inquired eagerly after Miss Namie as sho bado them be seated, and herself took tho only vacant chair near Ijttle Patty's couch. The child opened its eyos as Mi.w Rachel bent over it, and putting up its little, thin hand, said softly, " Oo'a good ; I love oo." 'Twas over so, the weak and suffering would cling to this gentlewoman, whoso heart was ho full of sympathy and love. " Dear ladies," said Mrs Green, "you'll maybe think it strange of mo to ask you to como over this morning; but I have some thing to tell you that I havo kept a locked secret for many years." Then sho told them how just eighteen years ago there had come to her door a poor i young creature begging for shelter from tho storm for herself and her child. How Joe, her husband, being absent in the bush, she had taken tho poor thing in, and stripping offherwetclothing, hadmado her lie down on her own bed, and fed tho little one with warm milk until it had fallen asleep in her arms. How, as the night wore on, the young mother fell ill, and she became alarmed. How she had listened to tho saddest story from her lips, and given a promise con erning the child ere she would allow her to call in a doctor. How then I she had followed the directions of the almost dying woman, and taking the dainty cloth ing from her small bag, had packed the basket as a bed for the sleeping child, and wrapping it up warmly in a blanket, had placed it therein. The younf' mother had clung to her little one in a last, weeping embrace, had then directed a label with her trembling hand, which she bade Mrs Green fasten se curely to the basket, and begged her to carry to Adam Flidgett's door. The poor thing as serted that she was the wife of Adam's older brother in England ; that she had known heavy trouble ; had left herhueband because he refused to acknowledge her and her child to his proud old father, fearing lest, in his displeasure at what he would deem a misalliance, he might disinherit him. She shrank from making herself known to his 1 brother, but, hearing much of Miss Rachel's goodness, would trust her child to that lady's tender care, under Providence, hoping that the relationship might somo day be 1 discovered. " She bound me to secresy by the mo3t Eolemn promise," continued Mrs 1 Green, "but said that if over I should hear of the child whon she was grown up, and see that it would be for her benefit that the truth should bo told, I might then give I this paper to Miss Rachel as a guarantee of | tho truth of my story." [ " I have kept my secret long enough ; my heart yearns over the dear girl who has been so kind to me and mine ; here is the | paper the poor young mother wroto with ' her dying hand. I have kept it safe from 1 Joe, or he might have sold it for drink," J

I Astonished beyond measure, Miss Rachel I unfolded the sheet of yellow paper Mrs Green placed in her hand, and read: "I, Felicia Agnes Flidgett, do solemnly 1 assert tlmt I am tho lawful wife of Reuben i Flidgott, of Oakloigh Hall, S—shire, Eng ! land, although lie has refused to aeknow -1 ledge me as such ; and that this child is

■ the sole and legal heiress of tho said Reuben j Flidgett. With my dying breath I freely forgive him the bitter wrong he has done J we. and commit this child, his and mine, Ito the care of his sister Rachel, whom I j have heard spoken of as a truly Christian I woman. j '' May the Lord bless and reward her if she ! takes this child, and rears it tenderly know [ ing not that she is its near relative ; and : may He bless the little one I now leave in His keeping, is tho dying prayer of a broken hearted mother, ■

''Felicia Agnes Flidoktt."

" Here also is a sealod envelope directed to you, Miss liachel," said Mrs Green; "she told me it contained the certificates of her marriage and the baptism of her child. A few hours after she had written that note, she breathed her last in my arms. The doctor said it was heart-disease, accelerated by cold and exposure."

"True enough," cried Miss Carthrcw, as the poor woman strove to conquer her emotion, "it was heart-disease, but what motive had the poor young tiling for con cealing the child from its father after her death»"

I ". She thought ho wished to marry a lady of his own position, and .she would not have her child placed in his way, think ing, it might meet with scant kindness. She said he had loved her at first, she ; did not doubt it; but his father had urged him so strongly to marry a wealthy heiress that lie dared not confess he was already fettered. Feeling most bitterly that filie was indeed ' in his way, ' she re solved to leave England witli her child, and be lost to him for ever, leaving him free. She had but recently landed in Auckland, had justsullicient mean.i to live upon ; had searched long and far for Miss Rachel, of whom she had heard her husband spook in endearing terms; had frequently watched her enter her house, and noted her kindly countenance ; had also soeu Mr Flidgett, but could not venturo to mako herself known.

" What brought her to my humblo homo, I cannot tell," continued Mrs Greon, "savo that she liud no further moans to pay her lodging, and perhaps felt the sickness of death creeping over her. In tho bosom of her dress she had stitched a little bag containing ten sovereigns, which sho said she had saved for her burial ; and she desired that no name bo written on her grave. Sho told tho doctor her namo was 4 Miss Strange,' and truly sho was a stranger in n strange land. Sho mado mo promise to toll no ono of the child; tho doctor never knew sho had it with her. And last night," added tho poor woman, as Miss Rachel hid her face, and sobbod bitterly as she thought of that ' nameless grave,' "as Miss Namio sat in that chair for very weariness, I sat watching her, and it sooraed to me that sho had a troubled droam, for sho murmured two, or threo times in her sleep, and 1 caught tho words at last quite plain; 'Nameless,' said sho, ' Nameless, why do they call mo Namo less V

"Then I caught tho name of' Archie,' and I thought perhaps her unknown birth might have something to do with his going away. Do not third; mo over bold, Miss Cartlnw," pleaded tho good soul, " but last night when I fell asleep after Miss Namie had gone homo, I saw her poor mother quite plainly in a dream, and she told me ' it wits time, it was time.1 .lust that, and I awoko. It may have been partly a diseased fancy, but it helped mo to decide this morning, ko I have told you all."

Miss Rachel was greatly moved to iind that Namio was indeed her beloved nieco, and with tears of joy she thanked Damo Green for the revolution, telling her aluo of the contents of Adam's letter, and of the evident, repentance of her brother .Reuben. Miss Cartnrew, also, was deeply gratified by this discovery, mid expressed her sincere satisfaction to Mrs Green, with grateful delight thnt "Nomio was their own little Namio after all."

Bidding tho worthy damo n kindly faro well, thoy returned home, Miss Kaehelwith mingled fouling* of Borrow and joy: joy Hint >lie had boon permitted to shelter and train tho child of her brother; sorrow that the Implofw young mother was beyond all need of comfort or earn.

■' What shall J do, Esthor?" inquii-od sho Oiijjoi'ly, us they walked down llio green road towards Scoria Cottago ; "of courao 1 must write to Adam iminodiatoly."

" I don't think your letter will bo very welcome, Raehol," replied Miss Carthrow,

"but I think it will bo expedient that you take Namio to England as soon as possible to prove her identity."

"Wo will consult tho Captain," said Rachel gently, thinking of the new tie that bound her to this faithful, though eccentric friend.

"Will you lako Namio to your room, Either dear, and tell her this strange, true story '!"

Miss Carthrow pressed a tender kiss upon tho fair, calm brow, as she assented, and they went into the house,, where Namio sat at the piano, playing some of tho Captain's favourite aiis, while ho lay back in tho great easy chair regarding her with unwonted tenderness.

She ceased playing as they entered, and the old gentleman roso from his seat with a look of inxious inquiry in his keen, gray eyes. " Namio," paid Miss Carthrow, " will you come into tho studio with mo ? I havo a now sketch to show you, dear."

fJlnelly enough Namio followed her, and then Rachel sat down beside the Captain and told him the story of "Nobody's Darling." 110 was delighted boyond measure, and agreed with Miss Carthrow Hint it would bo advisable* to hasten homo with Namio and prove her legal claim to the Oakleigh estate. Miss Rachel romainod cilent a momont, and then replied slowly, "Yes, that is plainly my duty. I supposo E-ithor will remain hero." Then sho added, feelingly, " And you ?" "I shall wait hero until Colin comos homo," replied the old man with emotion. " I know ho will come, oven yet; and I will let you know immediately. I dare say you will both come out again ; there's Archie"—

"Yes," roplied Miss Rachel, "of courso they aro both young ; but I sco the founda tion of a firm attachment, and I sincerely favour it now."

"Well. I can only say that ho is.a good boy. Sly poor sister told mo with 'nor (lying breath that ho had novor caused her .1 tear ; and I have ever found him honest and true in all things ; but, bless my buttons ! Rachel, we are planning too fast. Namio may moot someone in England who will bo proud to win the heiress of Onkleigh for his bride, and my poof Archie may bo quite forgotten." "God forbid that riches should prove a fjnaro to my darling," cried Miss Rachel. "Father," sho added, so tenderly, "I wonder whether Colin is poor ?"

"Poor boy, poor boy," exclaimed tho old man. " I have but littlo to leave him now. That property I sooko of i.i all gone, gone.". " Yes, Rachel," ho replied, in answer to her questioning look ; "I took it hard after Silver died. Without her restraining influence I went astray. I drank, I played, I gambled till I had nothing left but this little place where poor sister Jane died. When I came to my souses I resolved never to touch tho drink again, and by God's help I have kept my word, and trained up poor Jenny's boy in the right way, always remembering my poor Silver's last charge, ' to waitfor Colin.' Poor boy, poor Colin ! Rachel, I think you havo a welcome for him too, you have for given him all the pain ho caused you ?" "Yes, father," she answered softly, "you miy tell him, if he returns whilo wo aro away, thnt Rachel is true, has ever been, will over be."

Tho door opened softly, and with a little cry of joy Namio threw herself into the loving arms hold out te welcome her, and clasped in a fond cmbraco, she says, i with simple earnestness, " Auntie, dear auntie, my oivn Aunt Rachel." AVc draw a veil over tho scene, as Rachel 1 softly caresses the fair head that lies on her bosom, and thanks again tho loving Father who has to every sablo cloud pro vided a beautiful silver lining. By-and-bye sho sat down to write to Adam, no easy task indeed, bringing for ward explicit proofs that in "little Namie," she had found the child of that ill-fated couple—the missing heiress of Oakleigh. ('To he Continued.)

" What a man your father is !" exclaimed Mrs Homespun, looking up from the letter she held in her hand. "He says he has bought a French clock, and shall bring it home with him. What will it be good for, except as an ornmnont ? None of us can tell tlio time by it, unless you can, Edith. You know something about French, don't you V The first thing a city man does when ho becomes rich is to buy a farm, move into the country, and bankrupt himself trying to raise enough to keep him from starving. jV rich countryman, on the other hand, buys city premises and becomes. interested ja stocks, with a like result,

DEMAS DODD'S DAUGHTER.

[By Helen Forest Graves.]

" I'm sure I don't know what to do about it," j said Mr Griggs, hopelessly scratching his oar with the feather end of the quill pen. I It was a glorious August day at Bilberry , Four Corners. Themulleinstuddedpastures : were baked with heat; the closed cups of ■ the morning glories hung disconsolately among tho wilting leaves, while cattle : stood knee dcop in the Bilberry River, where I pollard willow's made a, friendly shade. At the Town House, however, there was no such luxury as trees. Trees shaded the cabbage field ; their roots drew all the strength outof thogarden soil, where onions, potatoes, and sugar beets wore to be grown, and their leafage made a green mould on the roofs. Tho Town House was meant for use, not show, and the selectmen had no scruples on the subject of beauty ; and so the sun came in liko tho breath of a fiery dragon, through the uncurtained casement, amfsmoto Mr Griggs, the superintendent, on the very crest of his bald head. "Pulldown the window shade somebody I" said Mr Griggs, writhing uneasily in his chair. " Oh sloar ! oh dear ! I wish Mrs Bibb was here. She knows I"

" What is the man calling about ?" said Mrs Griggs, bustling in from an adjoining room. " Don't you know that Mr Demas Dodd is waiting V" "Make tho books yourself," said tho superintendent, pushing a huge pile of folios toward his bettor half. " What is ono to do ? There was two of 'em left on the doorstops tho same night. Wo called ouo Ruth and tho other Naomi; and we surnamed her Snow, because it was an awful stormy night. Tho equinoctial, don't you remember? And ' here'sDeinasDodd ' says one of 'em is his darter, and he wants her ; and Mrs Bibb is gone to hury her second son. And how in tho name of all creation be I to tell which was which ?" "Let him pick and choose for himself," said Mrs Griggs impatiently. " Tell him jest how it was." . ~ , ' "No," aaid Mr Griggs, authoritatively. "That would derogate from tho dignity of tho Town Superintendent. It ain't to be supposed as the Town Houbo authorities can bo mistook."

" Stuff and nonsense 1" said Mrs Griggs. "We're all human, ain't wo? But if you foel like that, why flip up a ponny. If it comes up heads let him have Naomi; if it's tails say Ruth." And sho produced a copper cont on tho spot, twirling it nimbly on the table. For a socond or two it spun around—then fell heavily on its side, revealing tho ex pressive lineaments of the Goddess of Liberty. "Heads!" said Mrs Griggs. "Send Naomi down to him. And I ain't sorry, for Naomi always was a caroloss, flighty thing, and Ruth is dreadful handy with tho houtso linen and mon's wash." " But a man ought to havo his own daughter," feebly remonstrated Mr Griggs. " Wo can't do no bettor by him," said Mrs

Griggs. "And if ho hadn't no moro natural affec tion than to leave his own daughter in a baskot on the doorsteps such an awful stormy night as that was—" " Ie wasn't him ; it was old Mrs Dudgick, his wife's aunt,"- explained tho Superin tendent of tho Town Poor. " You see ho was awful down in tho world, and he'd gono to the Azores to gather yarbs to make a cough cure as should knock everybody's colds into tho middle of noxt year. An' when ho heard the child was dead ho hadn't no heart to come back. Ar.d ho novcr kuqwed sho was livin' until old Miss Dud gick mado an afferdavy on her death bed, arrd it was sent to h'iru by tho lawyers. And hero he is now." " And here's a grown up darter for him, said Mrs Griggs, curtly, "and ho'll bo suited, and we'ro mited, and I daro say Nami'll bo suited into the bargain, and no body need nover bo no wiser." With which astounding succession of donblo negatives tho matter terminated. Naomi was a pretty, blue-eyed girl of seventeen, who was to havo been "bound out" the very next week to the clergyman's family. Ruth was a dimpled, smiling brunette, whom all tho little children instinctively sought in times of trouble, and who was MrsCriggs's right-hand woman. And the two solitary young things had always loved each other like twin sisters. " I wish [iapa would take us both I" sob bed Naomi, with her arms around Ruth's " Don't hint at such a thing," said Mrs Uriggs, indignantly. "And after all," said Ruth, who always saw the consoling side of things, "wo can see each other often. And isn't it exactly like a novel, that your father should come to claim you after all theso years I" So Naomi went to tho pretty, old brick house which Demas Dodd, who had con trived to make a fortune out of his " Oriontal Cough Cure," had purchased—a pirstnrcaque old place, all mantled with ivy, where there was an ancient garden, full of sweet Williams and lilac bushes, and wan dering tendrils of clematis ; while monster jxot trees flung thoir ponuono of shade across tho bordered paths. " What a chango it was aftor tho toil and drudgery of tho Town Poor House, this life of easy comfort, with the softly carpeted floors, tho curtains of snowy muslin looped with ribbon, tho books, tho flowors, tho atmosphere of repose. Naomi's young life seemed to oxpand within it, like a daffodil in tho sunshine. And Demas Dodd, himself scarcely forty, was so gontlo, so refined, so companionable " Papa," criod Naomi, who was an im petuous little croatnro, and always spoke out her thoughts and feelings, "you are bo nice ! I don't think I over loved any ono bo much as I lovo you." And yot there wan a cortain shadow of awo in the girl's mannor towards him. "What is it? Naomi asked herself. "I sin not afraid of him. Do all girls feel so towards their fathor? But then I haven't known papa all my life. Of courso that accounts for it. It's simple enough when ono comes to think of it. Demas Dodd's daughter had scarcely dwelt in her new home a month when a greasy, ill-spelt noto arrived from Mr Grigg, the Superintendent of tho Poor House. "Ho wants mo to como down thore,' said Mr Dodd. '' I wonder what for ?"

" Papa, can't I go, too ?" said Naomi. "Not this time," Mr Dodd re sponded gently. "But perhaps 1 will bring Ruth back with me to spend tho day—if MrsGriggs can spare her.' Tho Superintendent was sitting up in stato before his ledgers and account books when Mr Dodd was shown into the recep tion room.

"Mrs Bibbs has come homo," said the Superintendent. "Mrsßibbsisourmatron." "Has she?" said Mr Dodd. "But lam at a loss to know how that fact can possibly a fleet uh." "Sho has oponod our eyes," said Mr Gri<rgs, with a nourish of his loft hand. "°oh," said Mr Dodd. " Proparo yourself," said tho Superinten dent. "We'vebeen mistook. Naomi's the wrong one. Ruth was your darter all along. Mrs Bibb knows. Sho brung 'em both tip by hand. Naomi belongs to the old brickmaker who fell into tho kiln and broke his neck sixtcon years ago. Truth is truth ! And I ain't the man willingly to deceive my fellow creators, not if it waslawto. Naomi's the wrong one, and Ruth is your darter, Mr Dodd/'

Mra Bibb, an elderly female, with a bottle nope, and a succession of double chins, was called to give her testimony, and it was incontrovertible. "I am sorry for this," said Mr Dodd, gravely ; "I have crown very fond of Naomi." "Ruth's a deal handier about the house," interposed Mrs Griggs. "Naomi always was a feather-headed erector. Sho's got a jiretty face, and that's all." Littlo Ruth came in, trombling and palo. Was the fairy story about to bo revived ? Wasshotho disguised princess, after all? And Naomi only an inebriated bookmaker's daughter ? Sho would rather have drudged on at the Poor House all her days than to have Mrs Bibb divulge her identity thus. 1 But, as Mr Griggs declared, "truth was truth." Naomi returned to the Poor House, and Ruth took possession of the pretty, old red brick house, where the China roses Binclled so sweetly, and the canaries sang in the bay window. "My dear," said Mr Dodd, stroking the pretty head. "I hope you will be very happy here." " Papa," said Ruth, plucking up courage. " I can't be happy without Naomi." Mr Dodd smiled. A tender softness came into his eyes. "That's what I was thinking myself, Ruth," said he. " Shall Igo after her ?" " Oh, papa !" cried the girl, ecstatically, " if you only would I" Toward evening Demas Dodd came back to the old brick nouso with Naomi sitting beside him in the pony phaeton. Ruth ran to meet her,and in half a minute the girls were clasped in each other's arms. "Oh, Naomi—my Naomi!" cried Ruth. i •' I have been building such a castle in the air." '' Have you 1" said Naomi. '' What is it?" " You are to stay here for ever," eaid ' Ruth.

RAMBLES ROUND THE WORLD.

* [By the "Star's" Wandering Con-

tributor.]

Wottiix were there with woman's sympathy and kindly offices, but they were rudely put aside, and a drawn sword was already aimed at the Pontiffs bosom, when the cries of a fierce multitude, threatening to burn or batter down tho house, arrested the aim of' the assassin. An arrow dis charged from behind reached and slew him. The walls rocked beneath the strokes of the maddened populace, and Cencius, falling at his prisoner's feet, became himself a sup pliant for pardon and for life. ... In profound silence, and with undisturbed serenity, Hildebrand had thus far submitted to thesd atrocious indignities. The occasional raising of his eyes towards Heaven alone indicated his con sciousness of them.

The next day, Sunday, I went to tlio Presbyterian Church and made the acquaint ance of the Rev. J. Gordon Gray, the resi dent minister, who is doing a good work in Rome, not merely as a stated labourer in his church, but as the patron and advocate of several evangelical organisations. In the evening I was present at a mooting held in connection with the British and Foreign Bible Sociotv, in the largo dining-room of an hotel. The Italian agent of the Society, whoso name I forget, was present, and gave an interesting account of the progress of tho work of tho Society, He is a man of pleas ing personal appearance, and tho effect of his simple but chaste address was rather heightened than injured by the foreign accent with which he spoke tho English language.

On Monday I made an excursion to the Villa Doria. It stands whore once the gar dens of the Emperor Galbar stood, and where, after ho had been murdered, his body is reputed to have been buried. Tho grounds around tho villa are extensivo, and beautifully laid out, diversified with wooded avenues, fountains, a lake, and cas cades. From tho terrace, one of the best views of the Cathedral of St. Peter is obtained. The Cassino contains somo statues and pictures of Venice in the seven teenth century. A temple erected on the grounds commemorates tho soldiers who fell during tho siego of Rome in 1849. In tho garden tho word " Mary " is traced in immensely large letters of clipped box, in tended to do honour to the memory of Lady Mary Talbot, a princess of the House of Doria. I found a day's deviation from tho ordinary sight-seeing in tho city to be a pleasureablerelief. Themindisapttobecome burdened with tho weight of wonders, and an interval spent amidst the rural charms of the villa was refreshing, and agood prepara tive for further researches.

Returning to tho city, I stopped at the Church of S. Piotro Montario, built by Fordinand and Isabella, of Spain, on the traditional sito of the martyrdom of St. Potor. In the chapels within tho Church arc somo pictures painted on stono by Sebastian del l'iombo, from drawings by Michael Angelo. But the chief interest centres in tho Tempietto, ft domed build ing supported by sixteen Doric columns, erected over the very spot on which the cross of St. Peter is said to havo stood. The logend i3 as follows ;—" When Peter arrived at tho placo of execution ho besought the officer to allow him to bo crucified with his head downwards. ' I am not worthy,'said tho Apostle, 'to suffer in tho same manner as my divine Master. I havo proached the Cross of Christ, have borne it in my heart, and its marks irpon my body by sufferings and mortifications, and now I am happy in the prospect of dying on the Cross. Hut my Master looked towards Heaven, which by his death he opened to men. I, a sinner formed from dust and about to return to dust, ought rather to look on tho earth, as unworthy to raise my eyes to Heaven. 1" To this is added by somo of tho old chroniclers the following: "The Ararat on which Noah's ark, the emblem of tho Church, rested after the subsidence of tho waters, was not a mountain in Armenia, butMonsTaniculum, at Home, and Peter's cross was raised on the very spot whereon tho progenitor of tho new races of men sot his foot as he stepped from the nrk. Thus tho rock on which the ship of salvation remained standing, and tho rock on which the Church is built, are brought into relation with each other." Indubitably there is a round hole in the centre of the floor of the Tompietto, and tho jld monk who acted as my conductor assured mo, with evident conviction on his part, that the licel of the cross was insertod in this hole. To prove it, he took a staff, armed at ono end with a tin scoop, which ho thrust to tho bottom of the hole and brought up some yellow dust. " This," said he, "is port of tho wood of tho cross; you must preserve it as a sacred relic." " But," interposed I, " are you quite sure that Peter was in Rome ? Tho Scriptures are silent on tho subject; and, for various radons, and from indirect but very pro bable incidental testimony, it is very questionable whether tho Apostlo over saw tho city of Rome." I wish thoro had boon an artist at hand to depict the look of astonishment and horror with which the old man regarded me. He mado no reply, but hurried mo out of tho building, as if my presenco profaned it. I smiled at his superstitious indignation, and as ho would not accept my proffered hand, with a good-humoured nod I bade him fare- W jll. Rajiblee.

Tricks of Smugglers.

At one of tho Paris barriers thoro exists a museum of tho contrivances used for smug" gling liquors into tho city which have been captured on various occasions by tho employes of tho octroi. Horc aro piles of common white plates, tho top one of which, on being lifted off shows a cylinder of tin piercing tho re mainder of tho pilo. Here aro rolls of linon, which aro merely a few yards of stuff wrapped around a tin box fashioned of the requisite shape, and with ends artistically finished off with strips of linen set on end. Iloro is tho bust of india-rubber of o. make believe wet-nurse, who used to take her littlo charge out daily to breathe tho fresh air boyond tho barriers. Here are two groat blocks of stono that, on closer inspec tion, provo to bo tin-lined boxes with artis tically-fitting onds. Hero are thrco stout folio volumes, bound calf, and labelled " Tho Philosophy of Nations." With these books under his arm, a pale, interesting-looking young student used to wander forth into tho suburbs to pursuo his studies. One day an inquisitivo custom-house officer, grown suspicious from tho fact that tho youth always carried out tho samo books to study, insisted on opening ono of these volumes. Ho found that tho leaves had boon nicely cut away with a sharp knife, to afford a secret niche for a square case bottle, which was tilled with brandy, a similar contrivanco existing in each of tho other two books. But "the cleverest trick of all was one which was very complicated and costly in its details, but which must havo paid hand somely, as it was carried on for months without detection. A lady and gentleman, seated in a plain, respectable-looking coupe, drawn by a good horse, and driven by a coachman in livery, woro wont to drive out to tho Bois do Boulogne every afternoon, returning usually about dusk. Tho gontloman was ovidontiy an invalid. He was always enveloped in a fur-lined cloak, with tho collar,, raised around his throat, and had a fur cap pulled down over his brows, while tho little thnt could bo scon of his countenance was of a sickly pallor. Ho was always reclining ma corner of tho carriage, as if too fooblo to sit oroet, whilo his attentive wife sat bosido him, evidently solicitous forhis wolfare,boinsf especially careful to keep his cloak well wrapped around him. Tho guardians of the octroi saw this vehicle and its inmates pass by them daily without suspicion. One day, however, after making tho usual inquiry, "Havo you anything to disclose ?" the cus tom-house officer, on closing tho door, struck the supposed invalid's foot. "I beg your pardon, sir I" said the officer. No response—not so much as an inclination of tho head. Rather surprised, tho officer repeated his remark in a louder tone,- at the samo time touching the sick man's shoulder. At that moment the lady and tho coachman leaped from their respective places and fled with surprising swiftness, leaving in the hands of the officers tho horse, tho carriage, and tho invalid, which last was found to be made of tin and tilled with brandy, his face being most artistically constructed in wax. The space under tho seat of the coupe and the coachman's box were also reservoirs of tin j so the smuggling transactions of the party had been practised on a very extensive scale.

It is reported that Mr Edison is building an electric locomotive of 375 indicated hour.

FOR THE LADIES.

Apple gbkes is one of the most popular colours. She neglects her heart who studies her glass. Butterflies of silver and gold are used to fasten the collar, Pointed hoods on the back of summer costumes aro much worn. They are lined witli surah satin of some contrasting colour. Tho most approved phaso of footwear has been developed in the direction of low heels, broad toes, and comfortably thick soles. , "So your daughter has married a rich husband ?" " Well," slowly replied tho father, "I believe she has married a rich man ; but I understand he is a very poor husband." Stories heard at a mother's knee are never wholly^forgottcn. They form a little spring that never quite dries up in our journey through scorching years. Poufs and crinolettes promise to be kept in bounds, and tho partiality to tho redingote form of garment will prevent any extra ordinary exaggeration of steel springs or horsehair for a time at least. Wings are to be the decoration par ex cellence of autumn hats, butfortha winter bonnets ostrich tips are moro likely to hg adopted, besides all kinds of fancy plumago and birds applicable alike to hats and bonnots. For seaside and garden wear, this hat called " chaise do cusino " is most in vogue. It is in natural straw, plaited like a chair seat, and only wheat ears for the brim ; the trimmings consist of poppies, field-flowers, and notched-out bows of red ribbon. ; Not only does grey promise to be all the rage for winter felt and silk hats, but for bonnets, and looking on further for tho early straw productions of next, I have seen a pattern book of straws, containing some hundred different shades of grey and fawn.— l Jans Correspondent. Gold braid is provided among other things very largely for tho decoration of bonnets, also gold and amber heads, but gilt brooches are not in the lists, only those in oxidised silver and dull grey steel. Tho use of tortoise pins will be restricted to the hair for fixing the bonnet or hat in its placo. Ladies are henceforth to be relieved of tho trouble of fanning themselves, electri city being now applied to the working of fans for drawing-room use. The playful tap of an ordinary fan was electrifying enough for male mankind, but who can estimate the thrilling potentialities of a doublo patent " electrozepherfier '!" Some ladies have latterly been wearing a sold cross, like an order of knighthood, on their evening dress. With the red ribbon it looks well. Questioned as to the origin, and for what achievement it wan given—if for beauty, wit, or sweet benevolence of nature-^the reply given was, "They are tlie fashion, you know." Perhaps one reason why women bear affliction—as I believe they generally do better than men is because they make no attempt to fly from the cause of it, but botake themselves patiently to the duties, however painful, which they have to per form. It is the old emblem of the reed and tho oak ; they bond and therefore are not broken ; and then comes peace of mind, which is the fruit of resignation.— Southey. The Paris correspondent of the " Ware houseman and Draper's Trade Journal " is assured, on the best possible authority, that fushion will lean very decidedly towards plain dress materials for next winter, plain woollens as well as silks. Tho taste for broad patterns is rapidly dying out, as far us gowns are concerned, and the fancy small patterned materials prepared for the present season are to be used as a transition between one style and another. _ , A-correspondent of the " Queen, writing from Paris, says : I have seen at Felix the renowned dressmaker of tho Faubourg St. Honore", the seventy toilets he has made for tho trousseau of Mias Murphy, the youth ful American, who marries this week Sir Charles Wolseley. I will describe the most remarkable. The bridal dress (de ain-ned by tho fianciSe herself) is in white not over white satin; the net, which is culled "tulle riiseau," is draped, bouillonne, and embroidered with raised silver flowers, which form the border to the skirt, as well as to the train, which measures almost four yards in length. Bouquets of orange blossom and white chrysanthemums are scattered everywhere over the dress, and both skirt and train are edged with c, mass of narrow flounces of real Alengon lace, modern but of exquisitely fine quality. Tho satin bodice is sewn to the train, which is heavily embroidered with silver. The veil is Alencon lace of exquisite design and workmanship. There ore twenty-five ovoning and ball dresses. One is of the most tender pink brocade, with a design of tulips in silver white; tho tablier is thick pink satin, with tho flowers embroidered in relief in silver chenille, and outlined with pink pear-shaped pearls that form grelots. The front of the pointed bodice is of similar pearls; the folds or berthe arc of crepe. Another evening dress is of the shade of pink known as " aile do flamant;" a bird of paradise, with out stretched wing 3, porchmg on a bouquet of flowers, is enbroidered on the train. The b.tdice is ornamented with a smaller bird. There is a no-called travelling costume, in reality the dross for which the bride changes hor wedding attire. It is short, and of white stamped velvet, with fan-shaped quilles of satin at each side of tho skirt; tho hHi bodice is of the two materials, and thero is an oxquislto little mantelet of the embossed velvet, the ends of which termin ate with enormous aiguillettes of beauti ful pearls. It has a large collar of pearlcd-silk guipure, besides a small upright Medicis collar. There aro half a dozon exquisite dishabilles in blue and pink cropan, the sleeves of which are bouillonnos, with small clusters of ribbon no3tlinginthepuffs.Thedinnertoiktte,worn when tho contract was eigned, is white volvot, printed in shaded red roses and pale-green loaves ; tho tablier is pink silk, studded with small pearls sewn on net; the train is in straight folds from the waist, Tho tea gowns are in pale-coloured Sicil ienne, one or two being beautifully orna mented with rare crystal grelots. Mine. Murphy, the bride's mother, will wear at the ceremony rod brocade, flowered over with large bouquets of white lilac; simple poinjbed bodice, Brussels lace tablier over red silk. Tho four briedsmaids wear Bongalino costumes in the beautiful shade of pink called "Trocadero;" the skirts are ornamonted with embroidery, and the yokes of tho Louis XV. bodice* are also embroi dered. . Heard in a boudoir: " Will you wear a rose in your hair!" "No, indeed; roses have becomo too cheap. I shall vroat a strawberry, set in a cluster new potatoes !" A great deal has been said lately respect ing the costumes of H.R.H. tho Duchess ol Connaught, and it is generally agreed that if a little moro taste was displayed we should not hoar of so much grumbling re specting Her Royal Highness's toilettes. Well, certainly, says a society weekly, we saw tho Duchess arrivo at Waterloo Station a fow weeks ago clad in a dress of chocolate cloth trimmed with white ribbon in tho most simple style, and with a bonnet equally simple, and wo could not help noticing the remarks of several bystanders, largely com posed of the " Uppor Ton," v.-hich wore, " She doesn't look much like n Princess ; in fact her dross looks as though it had been thrown there with a pitchfork." Very thin and cool toilettes are tho principal features in London fashions for August. Tho kind most in favour aro the muslins which wo mentioned last month as being made up over silk. A later fashion is to combine them with very good sateen, the colour of th'o prevailing blossom; the trimmings being a profusion of lace, and a variety of bows of very narrow satin ribbon. This way is, of course, less expensivo than silk would be, and looks equally well. Sateens, both plain, spotted, and striped, are made up into polonaises, prottilj trimmed with lace, for wearing over skirtf of plain coloured sateen, covered with lac< frills; the make of lace for this purpose shoulc have a strong, coarse thread. Striped am checked ginghams are made with blous< bodices and hsh-wife tunic, over a contrast ing under-skirt, either plain orkilted. Fo: tonnis wear these find great favour. Browi holland, prettily trimmed with colouret embroidery of the shade of the holland makes up into strong morning dresses foi country wear, also dark navy blue linei with red embroidery. Vory bright colouri are the rule rather than the oxception, bott for millinery and dresses. Skirts of poj.py red silk or sateen aro worn with redingotes are suitable for garden> parties, fetes or flower-shows; in fact, all the costumes for occasions of this kind are composed of the most brilliant colours. Nuns' veiling makes the most useful summer co3tum.es for young girls, and takes the place of sateens when the weather is unfavourable for washinf; goods. Crfime nuns' veiling, when intendec for evening wear, looks most effective wit! trimmings of gold lace or gold braiding.

THE ELDER BROTHER.

A GEXTLEMANof England had two sons, tho eldest of whom, eager for adventure and weary of the restraint of home, obtained his father's permission to go abroad, j Ten years later, a traveller, permaturely old, covered with fags and dust, stopped at an inn near tho paternal estate. Nobody i knew him, although by his conversation [ he appeared to have had some previous i acquaintance with tho neighbourhood. Among other questions, he asked concern- I ing the father of the two sons. "0, he's dead," said the landlord. "Been dead theso five years, poor old man! dead and forgotten long ago!" " And his two sons," said tho traveller, after a pause ; " I believe he had two." "Yes, he had. Thomas and James. Tom was the heir, but he was unsteady, had a roving disposition, gavo his father no I end of trouble, poor old man ! poor old man 1" And the landlord, shaking his head sorrowfully, drained a good tankard of his own ale by way of solace to his melancholy reflection. The traveller passed a trembling hand over his own pale brow and rough beard, and said a<*ain, " But James, the second I I son, ho is ah ye ?" | [ " You would think so," said tho landlord, ! smacking his lips. " Thingshave happened well for him. Tho old man dead, hia brother dead too-—" " His brother dead ?" said tho traveller, with a start. " Dead, or as good as dead. Ho went off on his travels ten years ago, and has never been hoard of since. So James has come to the estate—and a brave estate it is; and a gay gentleman is James. What! going, sir?" " I beg yourpardon," said the traveller, rising; "I—l have business with this James." He proceeded at once to tho house of the younger brother, whom he found just mounting his horse at the door of the paternal mansion. Jamcstaking him for a common beggar, repulsed him rudely : when the traveller cried out in deep agita tion : "James, my brother James, don't you know me ? lam your long-lost brother Thomas!" "Thonws! Zounds, Tom!" said James, in utter astonishment. " Where, in the name of wonder, did you come from ?" "The ship in which I sailed fell into the hands of pirates. I was sold as a slave in Algiers. I have but lately made my escape, and begged my way home. Oh, James!" sobbed forth the wretched man, quite over come by his emotions. " Bless my heart! Is it possible !" said Jamas, by this time recovering from his sur prise, and beginning to think that for him to regain a brother was to lose an estate. " I heard you were dead. I have the best evidence that you are dead I I mean that my brother is dead. I don't know you, sir I you must be an tmpostor,sir! Dick, send this beggar away!" And,without giving the amazed Thomas a chance to remonstrate or prove the truth of his Btorv, James leaped upon his horse and galloped off. The elder brother, driven from the house to which he was himself the rightful heir penniless, and a stranger in his own country —returned to the village, where he en deavoured in vain to enlist some old friends of his father in his behalf. His changed ap pearance justified them in refusing to re cognise him; and his brother had now grown to be a man of influence whom they Feared to offend. • At last, however, he found an honest attorney to credit his story and undertake his cause. "If I win for you," said he, " you shall give me a thous and pounds. If I fail, I shall expect no thing, as you will have nothing to give And failure is very likely, for your brother will be exceedingly liberal with your money, and it will be hard to find a judge, or jury, or witness that he will not be able to bribe. But I will do what I can, and in the mean time I will advance you .what money you need to live upon." Fully satisfied of Thomas's integrity, and moved by his ex pressions of gratitude to make still greater exertions in his behalf, the attorney resolved to go to London and lay the case before Sir Matthew Hale, the Lord Chief Justice of the King's Bench, a man no less conspicuous for his abilities than for his upright and impartial character. Sir Matthew listened with patience to the story, and also to the attorney's sus picions as to the means that would be used to deprive the elder brother of his right. "Go on with the regular process of the law," said he, "and notify me when the trial|is to take place." The attorney did so, but heard nothing from Sir Matthew in reply. The day of trial came, and the elder brother's prospects looked dark in the extreme. That morning a coach drove up to the house of a miller in the neighbouring town. A gentleman alighted and went in. After saluting the miller, he told him he had a request to make, which was that he would exchange clothes with him, and allow his coachman to re main there with the carriage until the follow ingday. , • The miller at first thought the Btranger was joking, and on being convinced to the contrary, would fain have fetched his best suit j but no, the stranger would have none but the dusty clothes he had on. The ex change was soon effected, and the stranger, transformed to a white-coated, honest-faced old miller, proceeded on foot to the village where the court was sitting. The yard of the court-hall was crowded with people waiting for the celebrated case to be called. Among them a sturdy miller —who must have come from a distance, since nobody knew him—was seen elbowing his way. The elder brother was there, look ing pale and anxious. "well, my friend," said the miller, accosting him, " how is your case likely to get on V "1 don't know, "replied Thomas ; "badly I fear, since I have reason to suppose that bath judge and jury are heavily bribed, while Ihave to dependsolely upon the justice of mycauso."' Finding a sympathetic listener, he went on to relate all the circumstances of his case in a simple and sincere manner, which carried conviction with it. "Cheer up, my friend !" said the miller, grasping his hand. "I have had some ex perience in these cases, and perhaps I can help you a little. If you will follow my advice, it can do no harm, and it may be of use to you." The elder brother willingly caught at anything that might give the least prospect of success. "Well, then," said the miller, "when the names of the jury aro called over, object to one of them, no matter which. The judge will, perhaps, aik what your reasons are: then say,"'l object to him by the rights of an English man, without giving my reasons why.' Then, if asked what person you would prefer in his place, you can look carelessly round and mention me. If lam empanelled, I think I may be of some use to you—though I can't promise." ■ Something in the honest old fellows manner inspired confidence, and the elder brother gladly agreed to follow his direc tions. Soon the trial began. As the names of tho jury were called, Thomas rose and objected to one of them. "And pray," said the judge, sternly, "why do you object to that gentleman as juryman ?" " I object to him, my lord, by the rights of an Englishman, without giving my reasons why." "And whom do you wish to have in his place ?" •'An honest man, my lord, if I can get one I" cried Thomas, looking round. "Yon miller, I don't know his name; I'd like him." "Very well," said hia lordship. "Letthe i miller be sworn." i Accordingly the miller was called down from tho gallery and empanelled with th« rest of the jury. He had not been long in i the box when he observed, going about i among the jurymen, a bustling, obsequious little man, who presently came to him smil i ingly and slipped five guineas into his hand. , intimating that they were a present fron , the youuger brother. ' "Yonder is a very polite man," said the i miller to his next neighbour in the box. j "I may well say so," said the delighted I juryman, "since he has given me tor I guineas to drink our friend James's health,' 3 And on further inquiry, the miller dis - covered that each man had received double r the sum presented to himself, i He now turned his whole attention to the I trial, which aPP«redto leandecidedlv in ' elv«ri^^rmrtodeliv O r his ; -charge to the jury, he no notice whatever of several palpable contradictions in the testimony of these false witnesses, but proceeded to expatiate upon the evi dence as if it had been overwhelmingly in James's favour. When he had concluded, the usual ques tion was put to the jury—Were they all agreed! The foreman rose, with his ten 1 guineas jingling in his pocket, and was about to reply, supposing all to have been ; equally convinced with himself by the same ; golden arguments, when the miller stepped \ forward calling out—" No, my, lord!-.We are ; not all agreed I" i "And pray,I', said his lordship, frowmn| i j with contempt and impatience, " what ob ; ' jecttons taveyoill 11

"I have many objections, my lord. In 1 the first plaoo, all- these gentleman of tlio jury have received ten broad pieces of goia from tho younger brother, while I have re ceived but five I" Having made such a simple announce ment, to the consternation of the Court and to the amusement of the spectators, tho sup posed miller proceeded to point out tho contradictory evidence which had adduced in such a strain of cloquonce that all present —especially the elder brother and the at torney—were filled with amazement. At length the judge, unable to contain himself, called out with vehemence— "Who aro you? Where do you como from 1 What is your name ?" ,-. To which tho miller calmly replied, "I com i from Westminster Hall—my name is Matlhew Halo—l am Lord Chief Justice of the Ring's Bench, and convinced as I am of your entire unfitness to hold so high a judicial position, from having observed your iniquitous and partial proceedings this day, I command you to como down from that tribunal which you have dis graoed. I will try this case myself." Sir.Matthew then ascended the bench in his miller's coat and wig, ordered a new jury to be empanelled, re-examined the witnesses, and drew out confessions of bribery from those who had sworn to tho elder brother's death. He then summed up the case anew, anfl it was unhesitatingly decided in the elder brother's favour.

A STAGE TRICK IN A STAGE COACH.

How a Comedian Foiled Two Hlßb waymen, Haiiley's assumption of idiocy was one of tre most perfect things ever witnessed on or off the stage; it was the most imposing —we say imposing, for it enco actually im posed on two thieves—regular, professional, well-armed thieves, who stopped and plundered the leathern convenience called a Yorkshire etago-coach in which Harley was taking his annual Thespian jouruoy from Wakelield to Hull. On a wot December night a lumbering, slow-going stage-coach was wending _ ite\ way towards Hull. Within this capacious, machine sat a pale, thin young man, who had been recently invested with tho cap and bells, and had been doing Momus through the circuit of York. This young man was Harley, soon to become one of tho principal London comedians. Opposite to him was deposited the capacious and well- , wrapped-up body of a iat and woalthy clothier of Wakefield, who rejoiced in tho appellation of Jeremiah Dobs. They were the only passengers j and Buch an unmatched pair were never before jostled together, even In a Btage eoaeh. Dobs confessed that he knew nothing of Melpomene or Thalia, Harley sighed at Dobs's want of taste, and Doba laughed at Harley's ignorance when he confessed that he knew very little of wool, and less of dying, except at the end of a five-act trtgedyl Dobs had a hint from Morpheus. The hint was soon taken, and the gentle Jeremiah reposed in his arms. \ Not so fortunate was Harley. It would : have (been rather wonderful if ho had been, considering the loud key in which the fat. and gentle Jeremiah opposite pitched his in domuable snore. Harley bore the horrid soundsforsometimowithmostChristianforti-. tude; but a whole hour's repetition of every note of the gamut was too much even for his meekness. At length there came a sound so dire, so dreadful! " Hang it 1" cried Harley, "this wont do—no.'. He was roused, and resolved to rouse his tor mentor ; and placing the heel of his boot as nearly aB ho could calculate upon the great toe of the snoring manufacturer of broadcloth, he raised himself up to a posi tion which left the whole weight of his slim body upon the aforesaid ,toe. , The pressure was felt—the snoring ceased. Jeremiah writhed, and Jeremiah groaned an oath or two, then slept again. At this time they were passing the skirts of a dark and dreary common. Harley was. just getting up his bile for another assault" on his snoring tormentor's great toe, when a firm, but not loud, authoritative " Stop,!" was heard through the whistling wind. It was given in a-deep, gruff voice. "Stop !' cried a second" thief, to which was added a potent threat of sending the gentleman who managed the reins to a warmer place than a wet coach-box on a Yorkshire common on a bleak December night; therefore, as; in safety bound, coachey stopped instanter. When the first cry of "Stop!" struck on Harley'sear, hia fingers, as if by instinct,.^ fixed on his purse, for it contained his all--| the savings of two hard-earned benefitSS The purse, conscious of approaching dangelp flew from his pocket as ft by magic, arg concealed itself in the vacuum between tH$ collar of his coat and the collar of his necfc At that instant the coach doors' were! forced, and on each side a large brass: pistol was seen, tho holder of one: of which weapons, intruding his crapei visage, growled, in a sotto vote, "Youxi money, quick 1" at which Harley, now;, prepared to act his part, put on; hi idiotic stare, his ponderous jaws distended,! and grinned, and smiled, and nodded. But such " nods and wreathed smiles " only en-; raged the impatient thief, who placing the pistol to the mimic'fi laughing face, pried," " Your money—hang your grinning—your; money or your life." "Money 1" laughed out tne pretended fool, in his best idiotic stylo, and, shaking his head like c. mandarin on a ohimney-piece, shouted, *• MoneyTl" Bobby never no money ; Nunkey pays for Bobby" (pointing to the still snoring'j Jeremiah Dob's, at the same time kicking his shins, and in a screaming key bawling " Nunkey! Nunkey! poor man wants money! Nunkey I give poor man money!; Nunkey!" The robber stared, then,, with-; drawing his pistol from the wide-extended mouth of Harley, said to his thieving colleague, " Why, Tom, I say, this" chap's a spoony. Come quick! 'Draw? tha old one!" A rough, backhanded blow on the loud-pealing nasal promon tory of the gentle Jeremiah soon brought him to a knowledge of "his unfortunate whereabouts^" He was soon sufficiently awake to see that two robbers; were before him, each with a pistol to his breast, when finding his rhetoric could not overcome such powerful and striking argu ments, and hearing his apparently idiotic fellow-traveller, though not'fellow-sufferer,; continue chuckling, grinning, and bawling; "Nunkey pays for Bobby! Nunkey pays for Bobby ! he made a merit of necessity^ and resigned watch, purse, and pocket book into the ruthless spoiler's hands,, who had no sooner realised than they vanisliot from his sight, which done " Harley w«i himself again." Within his nether Eas ment's pouch he replaced his t'arling cash— cash now doubly prized as doubly won, : fpi it was tho first sum in his then early life h« had ever saved, first by his frugality, noit by his ingenuity, and well' he merited thi pleasures it has since parchased for him They reached Hull to breakfast. Th( comedian in due time chuckled and grimed, and told the tale at so many convivui boards that soon all Yorkshire knew it, an? the ears of the unfortunate Jeremiah Dobi were saluted until the day of his death wit tho fatal sounds of " Nunkey pays for alt.*** Best Thoughts of Best Men, A falling drop at last will cave a stone; Hope is but tho dream of them that wal-,e He that dies this year is quit for the nex| Small service is true service while it lasts Make provision for want in time of plenty; Your secret kept to yourself is safelj anchored. Adversity exasperates fools anil dejocb cowards. ' Men are never so good or so bad as the! opinions. Her grief is real who grieves when n< • one is near. i ! Let your actloni correspond with you! i good report. , | llight principle* will by no means buE i . wrong practices. . ; | Rashness belongs to vigorous youth, pra i dence to old age. ■ It is the beautiful necessity of our natttr. [ to love something. _, . . , He that has wit and learning blioi.Jd nd< '. ldhaPP&«^ gl^S ™* ' i- Innrf nlacodSpOn the top of a smooth©! '. iZZd'sT^ «D try to climb am like spring flowers, break through the most frozen soil at last; am the heart which asks nothing but anothei heart to make it happy will never seek ii vain. Understanding does not always drive on ward like an arrow. The mind.sometimes by makinga halt and going round for ad vice hits the mark, much better than if she hat let fly directly upon it. We never respect persons who aim slmpl; to amuse us. There is a vast difference be tween those we call amusing men and thqs we denominate entertaining; we laugl with the former and reflect with thelatter. Envy is destroyeid by true friendship, aril coquetry by true love. To judge ourselves is our duty, but t i judge our. brother is our sin. ~.; ,' Ho is a fool who cannot be angry;, but h i is a wise man who will not.- ■ Promise cautiously ; but when you hay f jiromised, -fulfil scrupulously^ . y- Guard against the vanity which pWjjJS :iftmpliment; or is fed by it-, ;

THE AUCKLAND EVENING STAR, SATURDAY, OCTOBER 6, 1883,

5