"HAND AND RING."

Br Anna Katherini*. CrSen,

Author of "Tho Leavenworth Murder," "The Sword of Damodes," "The Defence ■of ."the Prude," eto.

CHAPTER XXXVI,

A MISTAKE RECTIFIED,

If circumstances lead me, I will find Whore truth is hid, though it wero hid, indeel, Within the centre.

—Hamlet,

If Mr Ferris, in sooking this interview with Miss Dare, hod been influenced by any hope of finding her in an unsettlod state of mind, ho was effectually undeceived, when, after a few minutes' absonce, Mr Byrd re turned with her to his presence. Though her physical strength was nearly exhausted, and she looked quite pale and worn, there was a steady gleam in hor oyc, which spoke of an unshaken purpose* Seeing it, and noting the forced humility with which she awaited his bidding at the threshold, tho District Attorney, for the first timo perhaps, realised the power of this great if perverted nature, and ad vancing with real kindness to tho door, he greeted her with as much deference as he ever showed to ladios, and gravely pushed toward her a chair. Sho did not take it, On the contrary, she drew back a stop, and looked at him in some doubt, but a sudden glimpso of Hickory's sturdy figure in the corner seemed to reassure her, and moroly stop ping to acknowledge Mr Forris's courtesy by a bow, sho glided forward and took her stand by the chair he had provided. A short and, on his part, somewhat em barrassing pause followed. It was broken by hor.

" You sent for me," she suggested. " You perhaps want some explanation of my conduct, or some assurance that the confession I made bofore the court to-day was true J" If Mr Ferris had needed any further firoof than he had already received that mogone Dare, in presenting herself be foro the world as a criminal, bad been ac tuoted by a spirit of devotion to tho prisoner, he would have found it itt the fervour and unconscious dignity With which she uttered thoso few words. But he needed no such proof. Giving her, there fore, a look full of gravo significance, he replied: "No, Miss Dare.^ After ray experience of the case with which yott can contradict yourself in matters of tbe most serious im port, yon will pardon me if I say that the truth or falsehood of your words must be arrived at by some other means than any you yourself can offer. My business with you at this time is of entirely different nature. Instead of listening to further con fessions from you, it has become, my duty to offer one myself. Not on my own be half," he made haste to explain, as she looked up, startled, "but on account of these men, who, in their anxiety to find out who murdered Mrs Clemmens, made use of means and resorted to deceptions which, if their superiors had been consulted, would not have been countenanced for a moment." "I do not understand," she murmured, looking at the two detectives with a won der that suddenly merged into alarm as she noticed the embarrassment of the one and tbe decided discomfiture of tho other. Mr Ferris at once resumed : "la tho weeks that have elapsed since the commission of this crime, it has been my lot to subject you to much mental misery, Miss Dare. Provided by yourself with a possible clue to the murder, I have probed the matter with an unsparing hand. Heedless of tho pain I was inflicting, or the desperation to which I was driving you, I asked you questions and pressed you lor facts as long as there seemed questions to ask or facts to be gained. My duty and the claims of my position demanded this, and for it I can make no exause, notwithstand ing the unhappy results that have ensued. But, Miss Dare, whatever anxiety I may have shown in procuring the conviction of a man I believod to be a criminal, I have never wished to win my caso at the expense of justice and right; and had I been told before you came to tho stand that you had been made the victim of a deception calculated to influence your judgment, I should have hastened to set you right with the same anxiety as I do now." " Sir—sir " she began. But Mr Ferris would not listen. "Miss Dare," ho proceeded with all the gravity of conviction, " you have uttered a deliberate perjury in the court-room to day. You said that you alone were responsible for the murder of Mrs Clemmens, whereas you not only did not commit the crime yourself, but were not even an accessory to it. Wait!" he commanded, as she flashed upon him a look full of denial, "I would rather you did not speak. The motive for this calumny you uttered upon yourself lies in a fact which may. be modified by what I have to reveal. Hear me, then, be fore you stain yourself still further by a falsehood you will not only be unable to maintain, but whioh you may no longer see reason for insisting upon. Hickory, turn around so Miss Dare can see your face, Miss Dare, when you saw fit to call upon this man to upbear you in the extraordin ary statements you made to-day, did you realise that in doing this you appealed to the one person best qualified to prove the falsehood of what you had said ? I see you did not; yet it is so. Ho, if no other, can testify that a few weeks ago no idea of taking this crime upon your own shoulders had ever crossed your mind ; that, on the contrary, your whole heart was filled with eorrow for the supposed guilt of another, and plans for inducing that other to make a confession of his guilt before the world." " This man !" was her startled exclama tion. "It is not possible; I do not know him; he does not know me. I never talked with him but once in my life, and that was to say words that I am not only willing but anxious for him to repeat. " Miss Dare," the District Attorney pur sued, "when you say this you show how completely you have been deceived. The conversation to which you allude is not only one which has passed between you two. Though you did not know it, you held a talk with this man at a time which you so completely discovered the secrets of your heart, you can never hope to deceive us or the world by any story of personal guilt which you may see fit to manufacture.' " I reveal my heart to this man 1" she re peated, in a maze of doubt and terror that left her almost unable to stand. " You are playing with my misery, Mr Ferris." The District Attorney took a different tone. . , , ~ , " Miss Dare," he asked, "do you remem ber a certain interview you held with a gentleman in the hut back of Mrs Clem mens's house a short time after the " Did this man overhear my words that day ">" she murmured, reaching out her hand to steady herself by the_ back of the chair near which she was standing. " Your words that day were addressed to this man." ... " To him !" she repeated, staggering " Yes, to him, disguised as Craik Man sell. With an unjustifiable zeal to know the truth, he had taken this plan for sur prising your secret thoughts, and ho suc ceeded, Miss Dare, remember that, even if he did you and your lover the cruel_ wrong of leaving you undisturbed in the impres sion that Mr Mansell had admitted his guilt in your presence." But Imogone, throwing out her hands, cried impetuously: "It is not so ; you are mocking me. This man never could deceive me like that!" _ , _ -, _■ _ But even as Bho spoke she recoiled, for Hickory, with ready art had thrown his arms and head forward on tho table before which he sat, in the attitude and with much the same appearance he had preserved on the day she had come upon him in the hut. Though he had no assistance from disguise, and all the accessories were lacking which had helped forward the illusion on the former occasion, there was still a sufficient resemblance between thisbowed figureand the one that had so impressed itself upon her memory as that of hor wretched and rem£sefulW, that she stood rooted to the ground in her surprise aud dismay. "You see how it was done, do you not? inquired Mr Ferris. Then, as he saw she did 1 not heed, added : " I hope you remem. ber what passed between you two on that struck by a thought which altered the whole atmosphere of her hopes.and feelings, she took a step *«?***&£ power and vigour that recalled to mind the Imogene of old. , , "Sir," she exclaimed,^ "let that man turn around and face me ! Hickory at once rose. " Tell me," she demanded, surveying him with a look it took all his well-known hardi hood to sustain unmoved, " was it all laise -all a trick from the beginning to the end . - I received a letter—was that written by ,-. your hand too?" Are you capable ot it forgery as well as of other deceptions? fhe detective, who knew no other way to,' ■liiHHnMi

escape from his embarrassment, uttered a short laUgh. But finding that a reply was expected of him, answered with well simulated indifference: " No, only the address on the envelope was mine ; the letter was one which Mr Mansell had written hut never sent. I found it in his waste-paper fetfket in Buffalo." " Ah ! and you could make use of that ?". "I know it Was a mean trick," he ac knowledged, dropping his eyes from her face. " But things do look different when you are in the thick of 'em than whon you take a stand and observe them from the outside. I—l was ashamed of it long ago, Miss Dare "—this was a lie ; Hickory never was really ashamed of it—"and would have told you about it, but I thought ' mum' was the word after a scene like that." She did not seem to hear him. "Then Mr Mansell did not send mo the lettor inviting me to meet him in tho hut on a certain day, somo few weeks after Mrs Clemmens was murdered?" "No." "Nor know that such a letter had been sent ?" "No." "Nor come, as I supposed, to Sibloy? nor admit what I .upposod ho admitted in my hearing? nor listen, as I supposed he did, to tho insinuations I made use of in tho hut ?*' "No." Imbued with suddon purpose and energy, she turned upon the District Attorney. "Oh, what a revelation to come to mo now !" she murmured. Mr Ferris bowed. " You are right," ho assented; "itshould have come to you befote. But I can only repeat wh«t I havo previously said, that if Iliad known of this deception m\ self, you would havo been notified of it previous to going upon tho stand. For your belief in tho prisoner's guilt has necossarily had its effect upon tho jury, and I cannot but see how much that belief must havo been strengthened, if not actually induced, by the interview which we have just been con sidering." Her eyes took on fresh light; she looked at Mr Ferris as if sho would road his soul. " Can it be possible " she breathed, but stopped as suddenly as she bogan. Tho District Attorney was not the man from whom she could hope to obtain any opinion in reference to the prisoner's innocence. Mr Ferris, noting her hesitation and understanding it too, perhaps, moved to ward her with a certain kindly dignity, saying: " I should be glad to utter words that would give you some comfort, Miss Daro, but in the present stato of affairs 1 do not feel as if I could go farther than bid you trust in the justice and wisdom of those who have this matter in charge. As for , your own wretchod and uncalled-for action in co*urt to-day, it was a madness ■ which I hope will be speedily forgotten, , or, if hot forgotten, laid to a despair al- ; most too heavy for mortal strength to en- , dure."

! Thank you," she murmured; but her look, the poise of her head, tho colour that quivered through tho pallor of her cheek, snowed ehe was not thinking of herself. Doubt, the first which had visited her since she became convinced that Craik Mansell was the destroyer of his aunt's life, had cast a momentary gleam over her thoughts, and she was conscious of but one wish, and that was to understand the feel ings of tho men before her. But she soon saw the hopelessness of this, and, sinking back again into her old distress as she realised how much reason she still had for believing Craik Mansell guilty, she threw a hurried look toward the door as if anxious to escapo from tho eyes and ears of men interested, as she knew, in gleaning her every thought and sounding her every impulse. Mr Ferris at once comprehended her in tention, and courteously advanced.

"Do you wish to return homo?" he asked.

" If a carriage can be obtained." " There canhe no difficulty about that," he answered ; end he gave Hickory a look, and whispered a word to.Mr Byrd, that sent them both speedily from the room

When he was left alone with hor, ho

"Before you leavo my presence, Miss Dare, I wish to urge upon you the necessity of patience. Any sudden or violent act on your part now would result in no good, and lead to much evil. Let me, then, pray you to remain quiet in your home, confident thai Mr Orcutt and myself will do all in our power to insure justice and mako the truth evident."

She bowed, but did not speak, while hor impatient eye, resting feverishly on the door, told of her anxiety to depart.

" She will need watching," commented Mr Ferris to himself, and he, too, waited impatiently for tho detectives' return. When they came in he gave Imogene to their charge, but the look he cast Byrd contained a hint which led that gentleman to take his hat when he went below to put Miss Daro into her carriage. CHAPTER XXXVII. UNDER THE 810 TREE. We but teach Bloody instructions, which, being taught, return To plague the inventor. Thus even-handed j astlce Commends the ingredients of our poisoned chalice To our own lips. —Macbeth. Imogene went to her home. Confused, disordered, the prey of a thousand hope, and a thousand fears, she sought for soli tude and found it within the four walls of the small room which was now her only refuge. The two detectives who had followed her to the house—the one in the carriage, the other on foot—mot, as the street-door closed upon her retreating form, and con sulted together as to their future course. "Mr Ferris thinks we ought to keep watch over the house, to make sure she does not leave it again," announced Mr Byrd. " Does he ? Well, then, I am the man for that job," quoth Hickory. "I was on this very same beat last night." " Good reason why you should rest and give me a turn at the business," declared the other.

"Do you want it?" " I am willing to take it," said Byrd. "Well, then, after nine o'clock you shall."

" Why after nine ?" "Because if she's bent on skylarking, she'll leave the house before then," laughed the other. "And you want to be here if she goes out?"

"Well, yes, rather I" They compromised matters by both re maining, Byrd within view of the house and Hickory on a corner within hail. Neither expected much from this effort at surveillance, there seeming to be no good reason why she should venture forth into the streets again that night. But tho watchfulness of the true detective mind is unceasing. Several hours passed. The peace of evening had come at last to the troubled town. In the streets, especially, its gentle influence was felt, and regions which had seethed all day with a restless and im patient throng were fast settling into their usual quiet and solitary condition. A new moon hung in the west, and to Mr Byrd, pacing the walk in front of Imogene's door, it seemed as if he had never seen tbe town look more lovely or less like the abode of violence and crime. All was so quiet, especially in the house opposite him, he was fast becoming convinced that further pre cautions were needless, and that Imogene had no intention of stirring abroad again, when the window where her light had burned suddenly became dark, and he per ceived the street door cautiously open, and her tall, veiled figuro emerge and pass rapidly up the street. Merely stopping to give the signal to Hickory, he hastened after her with rapid but cautious steps. She went like one bound on no uncer tain errand. Though many of the walks were heavily shaded, and the light of the lamps was not brilliant, she speeded on from corner to corner, threading the business streets with rapidity, and emerging upon the large and handsome avenue that led up toward the eastern district of the town be fore Hickory could overtake Byrd, and find sufficient breath to ask :

" Where is she bound for ? Who lives up this way 1" " I don't know," answered Byrd, lower ing his voice in the fear of startling her in to a knowledge of their presence. "It may be she Is going to Miss Tremaine's; the High School is somewhere in this diree tian." But even as they spoke, the gliding figure before them turned into another Btreet, and before-they knew it, they were on the car-track leading out to Somerset Park. "Ha ! I know now," whispered Hickory. "It is Orcutt she is after." And pressing the arm of Byrd in his enthusiasm, he speeded after her with renewed zeal. Byrd, seeingno reason to dispute a fact that was every moment becoming more evident, hurried forward also, and after a long and breathless walk—for she seemed

to be urged onward by flying feet—they found themselves within sight of the grand old trees that guarded the entrance to the lawyer's somewhat spacious grounds. " What are we going to do now ?" asked Byrd, stopping, as thoy heard the gate click behind her. " Wait and watch," said Hickory. " She has not led us this wild-goose chase for no thing." And leaping the hedge, he began creeping up toward the house, leaving his companion to follow or not, as he saw fit. Meantime Imogene had passed up tho walk and paused before the front door. But a single look at it seemed to satisfy her, for, moving hurriedly away, she flitted around the corner of the houso and stopped just bofore the long windows whose brightly illumined sashes proclaimed that the master of tho house was still in his library. She seemed to feel relieved at this sight.

Pausing, she leaned against the frame of a trellis-work near by to gather up her courage or regain her breath befortfproceod ing to mako her presence known to the lawyer. As she thus loaned, the peal of the church clock was heard striking the hour of nino. She started, pdssibly at finding it so late) and bending forward, looked at the windows beforo her with an anxious eye that soon caught sight of a small opening left by tho curtainß having been drawr. together by a too hasty or a too careless hand, and recognising the oppor tunity it afforded for a glimpse into the room before her, stepped with a light tread upon tho piazza dnd quietly peored with in.

Tho sight she saw nover left her memory. Seated before a deadened fire, she behold Mr Orcutt. Ho was neither writing nor reading, nor, in the true sense of tho word, thinking. The papors he had ovidontly taken from his dosk lay at his side undis turbed, and from ono ond of the room to the other solitude, suffering, and despair seemed to fill tho atmoßphero and weigh upon its dreary occupant, till the single lamp which shone besido him burned dimmor and dimmer, liko a life going out or a purpose vanishing in the gloom of a stealthily approaching destiny. Imogene, who had come to this place thus secretly and nt this late hour of the day with the sole intent of procuring the advico of this man concerning the docop tion which had been practised upon her beforo her trial, felt her heart die within her as she surveyed this rigid figuroand realised all it implied. Though his position was such she could not see his faco, thero was that in his attitude which bespoke hopelessness and an utter weariness of life, and as ash after ash foil fram tho grate, she imagined how tho gloom deepomed on the brow which till this hour had confronted the world with such undeviating courage and confidence.

It was therefore a powerful shock to her when, in another moment, he looked up, and, without moving his body, turned his head slowly around in such a way as to allow her to catch a glimpse of his face. For, in all hor memory of it—and sho had seen it distorted by many and varioui emotions during the last few weeks—she bad never behold it wear such a look a* now. It gave her a new idea of the man ; it filled her with dismay and sent the life blood from her cheeks. It fascinated her as the glimpse of any evil thing fascinates, and held her spellbound long after he had turned back again to his silent contempla tion of the fire and its ovor-drifting ashes. It was as if a veil had been ront beforo hor eyes, disclosing to her a living soul writh ing in secret struggle with its own worst passions ; and horrified at the revelation, more than horrified at tho remembrance that it was her own action of the morning which had occasioned this change in one she had long roverencod, if not loved, she sank helplessly upon her knees and pressed hor faco to the window in a prayor for courage to sustain this now woo and latest if not heaviost disappointment.

It came while she was kneeling—camo in the breath of tho cold night wind, perhaps ; for, rising up, she turned her forehead gratefully to tho breeze, and drew in long draughts of it bofore sho lifted her hand and knocked upon tho window. Iho sharp, shrill sound mado by her fingers on the pane reassured her as much as it startled him. Gathering up hor long cloak, which had fallen apart in her last hurried movement, she waited with grow ing self-possession for his appearanco at the wirdow.

He came almost immediately—came with his usual hasty step, and with much of his usual expression on his wolldisciplincd features. Flinging aside tho curtain., he cried impatiently: "Who is there?" But at sight of tho tall figure of Imogeno stand ing upright and firm on tho piazza without, he drew back with a gesture of dismay which was almost forbidding in its charac ter.

She saw it, but did not pause. Pushing up the window, she stepped into the room ; then, as he did not offor to help her, turned and shut the window behind her and care fully arranged tho curtains. Ho meantime stood watching her with eyes in whose fierce light burned equal love and equal

anger. When all was completed, she faced him, Instantly a cry broke from his lips:

" You here 1" he exclaimed, as if her presenoe were more than he could meet or stand. But in another moment the forlorn ness of her position seemed to strike him, and he advanced toward her, saying in a voice husky with passion: " Wrotched woman, what have you done? Was it not enough that for weeks, months now, you havo played with my love and misery as with toys, that you should rise up at the last minute and crush me before the wholo world with a story, mod as it is false, of yourself being a criminal and the destroyer of the woman for whose death your miser able lover is being tried ? Had you no con sideration, no pity, if not for yourself, ruined by this day's work, for me, who have sacrificed everything, done every thing the most devoted man or lawyer could do to save this fellow and to win you for my wife 1" " Sir," said she, meeting the burning anger of his look with the coldness of a set despair, as if in the doubt awakened by his changed demeanour she.sought to probe his mind for its hidden secret, " I did what any other woman would have done in my place. When we aro pushed to the wall we tell the truth."

"Thetruth!" Was that his laugh that rang startlingly through the room? "The truth ! You told tho truth I Imogene, Imo gene, is any such farce necessary with me?"

Her lips, which had opened, closed again, and she did not answer for a moment; then she asked:

"How do you know that what I said was not the truth?"

'' How do I know ?" He paused as if to get his breath. " Howdo I know?" here peated, calling np all his self-control to sustain her gaze unmoved. "Do you think I have lost my reason, Imogene, that you put me such a question as that ? How do I know you are innocent? Recall your own words and acts since the day we met at Mrs Clemmens's houso, and tell me how it would be possible for me to think anything else of you ?"

But her purpose did not relax, neither did she falter as she returned :

" Mr Orcutt, will you tell me what has ever been said by me or what you have ever known me to do that would make it certain I did not commit this crime my self?"

His indignation was too much for his courtesy. " Imogene," ho commanded, " be silent! " I will not listen to any further arguments of this sort. Isn't it enough that you have destroyed my happiness, that you should seek to sport with my good-senee? I say you are innocent as a. babe unborn, not only of the crime itself, but of any com plicity in it. Every word you have spoken, every action you havo taken, since tho day of Mrs Clemmens's death, proves you to be the victim of a fixed conviction totally at war with the statement you were pleased to make to-day. Only your belief in the guilt of another and your—your— -. " He stopped, choked. The thought of his rival maddened him.

She immediately seized' the opportunity to say : " Mr Orqutt, 1 cannot argue about what I have done. It is over and cannot be remedied. It is true I have destroyed my self, but this is no time to think of that. All I can think of or mourn over now is that, by destroying myself, I have not suc ceeded in saving Craik Mansell." If her purpose was to probe the lawyer's soul for tbe deadly v.-ound that had turned all his sympathies to gall, she was success ful at last. Turning upon her with a look in which despair and anger were strangely mingled, he cried:. " And me, Imogeno—have you no thought for me ?"

" Sir," said she, " any thought from one disgraced as I am now would be an insult to one of your character and position." It was true. In the eyes of the world Tremont Orcutt and Imogene Dare hence forth stood aa far apart as tho poles. Rea lising it only too well, he uttered a half inarticulate exclamation, and trod rest lessly to the o'her end of the room. When he came back, it was with more of the lawyer's aspect and less of the baffled lover's. " Imogene," lie said, " what could have

induced you to resort to an expedient so dreadful ? Had you lost confidence in me ? Had I not told you I would save this man from his threatened fate ?"

"You cannot do everything," sho re plied. " Thero are limits even to a power like yours. I knew that Craik Mansell was lost if I gave to the court the testimony which Mr Ferris expected from me." "Ah, then," he cried, seizing with his usual quickness at the admission which had thus unconsciously, perhaps, slipped from hor, " you acknowledge you uttered a per jury to save yourself from making declara tions you behoved to be hurtful to the prisoner ?"

A faint smile crossed her lips, and her whole aspect suddenly changed. " Yes," she said ; " I have no motive for hiding it from you now. I perjured my self to escapo destroying Craik Mansell. I was scarcely the mistress of my own actions. I had suffered so much I was ready to do anything to save the man I had so relentlessly pushed to his doom. I for got that God does not prosper a lie." The jealous gleam which answered her from the lawyer s eyes was. a revelation. " You regret, then," he said, " that you tossed my happiness away with a breath of your perjured lips ?" '' I regret I did not toll the truth and trust God." At this answer, uttered with the simplicity of a ponitont spirit, Mr Orcutt unconsciously drow back. " And, may I ask, what has causod this suddon regret ?" ho inquired, in a tone not far removed from mockery ; '' the generous action of the prisoner in relieving you from your sclf-imposod burden of guilt by an acknowledgment that struck at the founda tion of the dofenco I had so carefully pre pared ?" "No," was her short roply; "that could but afford mc joy. Of whatever sin he may be guilty, ho is at least frco from the reproach of accepting deliverance atthe oxpenso of a woman. I am sorry 1 said what I did to-day, because a revolution has since boon made to mo which proves I could never havo sustained myself in tho position I took, nnd that it was more suicidal folly in mo to attompt to save Craik Mansoll by suoh means." "A revelation?" "Yes." And, forgetting all else in the purpose which had actuated her in seoking this interview, Imogeno drow nearer to the lawyer and earnestly said: "Thero havo beon some persons—l have porceived it— who havo wondered at my deop conviction of Craik Mansell's guilt. But tho roasens I had justified it. They were great, greater than any ono knew, greater oven than you knew. His mother—wero sho living—must have thought as I did had sho boon placed beside mo and soon what I have soon, and heard what I have hoard from the time of Mrs Clommons's death. Not only wore all tho facts brought against him in tho trial known to me, but I saw him—saw him with my own eyes, running from Mrs Clemmens's dining-room door at the very timo we sup pose tho murdor to havo beon committed ; that is, at five minutos boforo noon on tho fatal day." "Impossible!" oxclaimed Mr Orcutt, in his astonishment. " You aro playing with my credulity, Imogeno." But sho went on, lotting hor voioe fall in awe of the lawyer's startled look. "No," she porsisted; "I was in Pro fossor Durling's observatory. I was look ing through a telescope, which had been pointed toward the town. Mrs Clemmens was much in my mind at the time, and I took the notion to glance at her house, when I saw what I have described to you. I could not holp remembering the time," sho added, " for I had looked atthe olock but a moment bofore." "And it was fire minutes bofore noon ?" broko again from tho lawyer's lips, in what was almost an awe struck tone. Troubled at an astonishment which scorned to partake of the nature of alarm, she silently bowod her head. " And you wore looking at him—actually looking at him—that vory moment through a telescope perched a mile or so away ?" " Yos," sho bowed again. Turning his face aside, Mr Orcutt walked to the hearth and begun kicking the burnt out logs with his restless foot. As he did so, Imogono heard him mutter between his set of teeth : " It is almost enough to mako ono believe in a God !" Struck, horrified, she glided anxiously to his side. "Do you not believe in a God?" she asked. He was silent. Amazed, almost frightened, for sho had never heard him breath a word of scepti cism before—though, to be sure, ho had never mentioned the name of the Doity in her presence — sho stood looking at him like one who had recoived a blow ; then sho said : " I bclievo in God. It is my punishment that I do. It is He who wills blood for blood ; who dooms the guilty to a merited death. Oh, if Ho only would accept the sacri fice I so willingly offer ! —take tho life I so little value, and give mo in return " "Mansell's?" completed tho lawyer, turning upon her in a burst of the fury he no longer had power to suppress. '' Is that your cry —always and for over your cry ; You drive me too far, Imogene. This mad and senseless passion for a man who no longer loves you " " Spare me I" rose from her trembling lips. " Let mo forget that." But tho groat lawyor only laughed. " You make it worth my whilo to save you the bitterness of such a remembrance," he cried. Then, as she remained silent, he changed his teno to one of careless inquiry, and asked: "Was it to toll this story of the prisoner having fled from his aunt's houso that you came here to-night ?" Kecalled to the purpose of tho hour, she answered, hurriedly : " Not entirely ; that story was what Mr Ferris expected me to testify to in court this morning. You see for yourself in what a position it would have put the prisoner." " And the revelation you have recoived?" thr lawyer coldly urged. " Was of a deception that has boen practised upon me—a base deception by which I was led to think long ago that Craik Mansell had admitted his guilt and oniy trusted to the excellence of his defence to escapo punishment," " I do not understand," said Mr Orcutt. " Who could havo practised'snch deception upon you ?" " The detectives," she murmured ; " that rough, hearties fellow thoy call Hickory." And in a burst of indignation, she told how she had beon practised upon, and what the resultß had been upon her belief, if not up on she testimony that grew out of that belief. The lawyer listened with a strange apathy. What would once have aroused his fiercest indignation and fired him to an exertion of his keenest powers, fell on him now like the tedious repetition of an old and worn - out tale. He scarcely looked up when aho was dono; and despair— the first, perhaps, she had ever really felt— began to close in around her as she saw how deep a gulf sho had dug between this man and herself by the inconsiderate act which had robbed him of all hope of ever making her his wife. Moved by this feeling, she suddenly asked : " Have you lost all interest in your client, Mr Orcutt ? Have you no wish or hope re maining of seeing him acquitted of this crime? " My client," responded the lawyer, with bitter emphasis, "has taken his caso into his own hands. It would be presumptuous in me to attompt anything further in his favour." " Mr Orcutt!" . ' "Ah!" he scornfully laughed, with a quick yielding to his passion as startling as it was unexpected, "you thought you could play with me as you would j use my skill and ignore the love that prompted it. You are a clever woman, Imogene, but you went too far when you, considered my for bearance unlimited." "And you forsake Craik Mansell in the hour of his extremity ?" "Craik Mansell has forsaken me." (To be Continued.)

THE GARDEN.

Calendar of Operations, August 16,

[By Ho ex us.]

(Hob.tus la willing to answer any queries. Cor respondents must give their full names and addresses, though not for publication.]

TO CORRESPONDENTS. Protecting Sbkdb from Birds (Dcvonport).— I will give you a recipe taken' from " Garden ing Illustrated":—"No bird, rat, or mouse will cat any vegotable substance that is well

coated with red lead. I have üßed it for many years for all kinds of seeds that birds attack, just damping tho seeds and then stirring a little of the lead amongst them till they are quite red, and cowing them, and I never saw either a bird or vermin meddle with them, whereas without it wo cannot got such things aa seed of the cabbage tribe and other vege tables through tho ground.—J.S." I would advise my correspondent to try the above. I have scon it tried with success, and it is re commended by the whole horticultural preis in Britain. Pears GtRAFTBD on thr Quince ("Orchard,' Onehunga).—Pears aro commonly grafted on tho Portugal quinco stock. It is supposed thero are more than forty varlotioa which re fnso this union, and which can only bo man aged by double grafting. First graft a variety of pear that makes a good union on tho quinco, then tho variety whioh does not tako on the quinco can easily be worked on tho pear; thus having a doublo grafted troo which is soid to fruit all the bettor. Profossor Decaisne. on tho first trial of tush an experiment under his own observation, succeeded with twenty of theso antipathotic varieties without difficulty, but somo —among which aro clairgeau and haurr. boso-oDßtlnatcly refuse to unito with the quince stock. Soot as NUNimE (Amateur, Ponßonby).— Soot is odo of tho most valuable substances tho gardoner can omploy. That from coal is bettor than that from wood, it can bo em ployed as a fertiliser for any orop.and it is not only valuable as a manure, but to drive away insects that attack cabbage turnip, radish, and other plants. It contains a bitter prinolplo which insects do not fancy, and repels, also, by its grittincss. Keep or get all you can, and apply it to your crops while they aro growing, but don't use it now. Removing Tiiee Ferns ("Ferns," Symonds-st). —It is hardly any use to try and remove tree feni3 from tho bush at this season of the year. Tho proper timo to move them is In the autumn. The oent plan of all is to take them up in the autumn, plant them all together In a shade house, or build a temporary shade over them, and let thorn stand under this for ono season, Tho following season havo them removed to their permanent place. It is much easier to lift forns and send them home to Britain than to lift and transfer into an open, exposed situ ation here. They want a good deal of atten tion till they recover from the effects of the removal, Road Scrapings (R.G., Parnell),—Scrapings from tho roads possess mauy manurial pro perties. Of course theso vary according to the nature of the matorials used in the formation of tho roads. On strong clay soils, scrapings from roads dressed with scoria will bo very beneficial In disintegrating and rendering them more fertile for tho growth of fruit, flowors, and vegetables. In fact scrapings from any roads, especially thoso upon which thero is plenty of traffic, are always impreg nated with considerable quantities of import ant fertilising matorials. Those scrapings should be collected and stacked. When wanted for uso, Bpread thorn ovor tho surface of the ground liko any other manure, and fork or dig bi;o tho ground. Use in any quantity. You cannot have too much.

Kitchen Garden.

, Plant a fow more early potatoes in worm, 1 dry situations. Continuo planting out cabbage and cauliflower. Make fresh sowing of tho same. It is better to sow small patchoe frequently, and plant a few from those fortnightly, than to bow largely all at ono time. Plant out your rhubarb in bods about 3 feet apart. Dig a large holo for oach plant, put In each hole about a barrow-load of well decomposed manure, cover over with a littlo soil, and plant your rhubarb on top of it. To obtain good crops of tho abovo, rich good soil and plenty of manure will bo required. Plants loft in the ground during the winter, cover with boxes and manure, and force in the same manner as directed for sea-kale last week. A fow cucumber, melon, marrow, and tomato seeds should now bo sown in pots, and placed in a cold framo for early planting out. Mako another small sowing of carrots, turnips, and parsnips, &c.; look after slugs as thoy come through tho soil. When favourable opportunities occur, have all vacant piecos of ground manured and dug, so that it may Ho and become pulverise*! and sweetened for a few weeks beforo cropping. Seed sown or crops planted on well-swcotoncd soils will succeed much better than on newly - laboured ground. Tho old surface, fully impregnated with air, will have had time to generate and dis seminate those gases throughout the soil which aro essential for the woll-being of all crops. Flower Garden. Tho weathor is beginning to get a little warmor, showing that tho spring is ad vancing. Growth is apparent in a large number of plants, showing clearly that tho planting and transplanting of all shrubs must bo completed as soon as possible. Late-planted shrubs as a rule do not succeed well unless a groat deal of at tention is given them in tho way of watering and mulching during the summer months. Tho pruning of roses will need to be atten ded to. Leavo the pruning of a few till tho end of the month, bo as to give a succession of flowers. Prune back to two or threo eyes ; mulch liberally each plant with cow manure. Rocollect it is on the liberal supply of manures given that tho quantity and quality of tho flowers will depend. Continue sowing a fow of the hardy annuals, sow in rings or short rows, and mark each lot with a label so that you may know where they are. Prick out in a bed the different hardy annuals, and perennials sown last autumn in a seed pan. Cuttings stuck in tho cutting bed which have become well established plant out in the borders in their permanent places. Continue the planting out of bulbs. Lawks.—Continue as directed last week. Greenhouse. Still continue as directed last week. Aspect of Soils. According to the position or aspect of a garden, so will vary the different periods for producing crops. On warm light soils with a northern exposure vegetables will come much earlier to maturity than vege tables grown in cold, damp, heavy soils with a southern exposure. Therefore, vegetables for early crops should be sown er planted in tho warmest part of the garden, reserving the coldest and dampest situations for late cropping, Grafting. Preparations must be immediately made for the usual spring operation of grafting, so as to increase the number of varieties of fruit trees in the orchards. Scions should be cut and tied in bundles, labelled with their names and heeled in the ground ready for use. Taking off the scions now will have the effect of checking or keeping them bask a little behind the stocks. Grafting succeeds better if the action of the sap in the scion is not quite so far advanced as it is on tho stock. In grafting when the stock is to remain as the permanant root of the future tree, it is always better to graft about six inches above the ground; in fact, when using the blight proof apple stock it is imperative. Stocks grafted low down are apt in the future to have the soil raised, and the union becomes covered. The scion under those conditions sometimes throws out roots, thus nullifying the object of obtain ing trees not on their own roots ; though in tho case of pears, etc., which have been grafted originally on bad stock, we might have frequently seen this, what we might call second rooting being the means of pro ducing crops of fruit. Of course, where trees are wanted on their own roots, it is better to graft a root on to a cutting as we already explained when dealing with the question of raising stock. There are one or two observations I would like to make to those who have not had much practice in grafting. Whip grafting is the most popular method for the ordinary young nursery stock; it is the easiest and quickest method, and is performed in the following manner : First, head back the stock at the required height you want to graft at, then make a cut diagonally across the top of the stock, and about an inch in length. Make a similar cut on the bottom of the scion, cut a tongue on the scion, and a similar slit on the stock. Apply the scion to the stock, inserting the tongue into the slit on the stock. These are tied up securely with matting or old cotton rags, then covered up with grafting clay or wax, so as to exclude the light and air from the wounded parts, and the operation is complete. The sap ascending from the stock will soon establish a union between the two parts, and then, rising, will cauee the buds left on the scion to burst out into growth. There are one or two points to be observed while performing the operation. The Btock and scion must be made to fit closely together ; the inner bark of both being placed in close contact, so that tho flow of sap from one to the other will be easy. If the stock is larger than tbe scion, make the inner bark meet only on one side of the stock. It is on the closeness of this union of bark that the success of the operation depends. Always use a sharp knife when making your cuts, as jagged or rough, uneven bark is hard to heal. In fact, if you receive a clean cut with a knife on the finger, how much easier to heal than a rough, jagged cut with a saw. So it is with wounds made on the bark or limbs of a tree.

RE-GRATiriNO Old Trees.—Where such has to be performed, it is better to cut your branches straight across; then, with a sharp

knife or chisel, make a downward cleft in the stock. The cleft is kept open with tho chisel. The scion is then cut in the form of a wedge and inserted in the cleft, and tho chisel withdrawn. In this case also the bark must be made to tit on one sido of tho wound ; when such is properly dono tie up and clay. The above is the best method of re-grafting old trees or large stocks. Old grape vines are often renewed with some other variety by this means. There are a number of different mastics or waxes used for grafting ; but for the amateur who has only a few trees to graft, it is better to make up tho composition called grafting clay, which is simply a composition of clay and cow dung, two parts clay and one part dung. These are well worked up together, and kept for about a fortnight and re wrought up again. It is then ready for uso. When applying tho clay, always keep a box or pan of dry ashes with you, so that when tho fingers got cloggy you can clean them by rubbing them in the ashes. When grafting large old trees, the ciay is almost imperative, a large quantity being required. Root grafting is often used for raising such plants as are hard to raise otherwise. Take roots of almost any plant about throe eighths of an inch thick, a branch of the same tree about the samo size, and graft them, using the whip method. Tie them together ; place them out in nursery rows, covering all the root and part of the scion ; press the earth closely around them. Thoy will need no claying. Almost, if not all, manner of plants could be raised by the abovo means if propor care and attention wero givon them. I have raised walnuts by this means when I could not manage it by grafting abovo the ground.

MOUSTACHIOS; OR, WINNING THE CROSS OF THE LEGION.

Tim incident on which the following narra tive is founded occurs in a Fronch journal among others particulars about tho Great Napoleon who ruled France sixty years ago.

I Pierre Gustavo was a drummer-boy in a regiment of tho line. Pierre was proud of his profession. To beat a drum and march with the Emperor's soldiers had been the desire of his heart for many a day, and the first time he camo en parade, dressed in a real soldier's coat, with a real drum slung beforo him, no king was happier than ho. But every pleasure has its pain, and just as in gathering honey wo sometimes are stung by the bees, so sorrow comes along with joy, and thorns with roses. Pierre Gustavo had a soldier's coat and a drum ; but then he could not beat on tho drum as he liked and when he pleased—he had to learn how to play it properly. Tho drum-major, a stout man with a red face and a cane, was his instructor, and ho beat timo on poor Pierre's shoulders as he taught him the rataplan, till the poor little fellow was forced to shed unsoldiorlike tears.

At last Pierro conauored tho difficulties of tho drum. He could beat on tho strained shoopskin in first-rate style, and the soldiers said, and I say too, and you would have said the same if you had heard him, thero was not a better drummer-boy in all Napo leon's army. But even this has its drawback ; soldiers and drummer-boys cannot always stop at

home. Tho regiment to which poor Pierre belonged, and in which his father had perished, was ordered on servico. Pierro had to say good-byo to his mother. It was

a hard trial; there was homo and all its plcusures to be left behind ; tho dun cow he had milked so often; theshagey donkey he hud so often ridden to watering; tho littlo garden ho had so carefully kept; the boys, who had loved him as a companion and adored him as a soldier; more than all,

his mother. Ah me !it is too sorrowful to talk about. Rub-a-dub —we must all part some day, but we shall meet again ;

hurrah! we shall meet again when the fighting is over. Ono day a great battle Mas fought. Thero was a small entrenchment, which a fow of the enemy were gallantly defending. It was so situated that almost certain death awaited those who approached it, but that it should be taken was essential to securing the victory; so a number of men wore selected from the regiment to which Pierre belonged—nine-and-thirty tried veterans, whose moustachios had grown grey in the service. They were volunteers, brave fel lows who would die rather than surrender. A drummer to beat the calls was necessary, and the officer in command looked round for a volunteer. Not a voico was heard. "France needs a man," said the officer; " whore is he?"

" Hero," answered a shrill voico, and be foro anyone could stop him Pierro ran to tho front. There was a laugh, and then a shout, and then tho littlo company marched on. A few moments and the fort was taken, takon without a single death, though some of the men were sovcrely woundod. Pierre came back exulting at his success, and the red-faced drum-major declared that he hid always predicted groat things of him, and that Pierre's drumstick would yet bo ox changed for the field-marshal's baton. Some days after there was a distribution of prizes. The officer, appreciating the service rendered by the company of brave men on tho day of the great fight, assembled the troops, and presented to tho band of heroes that reward so coveted by Frenchmen, the Ciojsof the Legion of Honour. One after another tho mon camo up and received tho award j nineand-thirty were presented, when the general, looking round, asked, — " Where is the fortieth ?"

"Here," said t'ierre, stepping from the line, and approaching tho officer. There was a laugh. " My brave little man," said tho officer, " your sorvice was well done; hero is a five franc piece, but you must wait for the Cross till you have moustachios like the bravo heroes who fought so well that day." " Moustachios," said the child, turning red, and then white, and trying hard not to cry ; " do they make brave men ?" " Away, boy," answered tho officer, who had very big moustachios himself, " and never prosumo to ask so silly a question," The drum-major was heard to remark that Pierre was always too forward ; that he had always predicted ho would come to harm.

Pierre took tho money, and went sorrow fully to his place ; he said nothing when the greybeards condoled with him, or his companions laughed at him : so tho time passed on. There was another battle— another groat fight; and for tho second timo Pierre made himself conspicuous by an act of daring. Ho drew the lighted match from a bomb, and by this means pre vented a dreadful disaster, for the shell had fallen noar a powder magazine, and the result of an explosion would havo been terrible. The fight endod, and tho town was takon; tho soldiers poured into the streets, and the peoplo hid in their houses, or lied away. Pierro went in with the troops, but they lost sight of him after a little whilo, and knew not where he had gone. In passing through the town Pierre had noticed a barber's shop, with imitation beards, and wigs, and moustachios in the window. To this shop he returned as soon as he could get away from his regiment, and, finding the owner—for he was much too honest to steal—bought a fine grey pair of moustachios, and paid for them his five franc pieco. Next day, in the public square of the town, rewards were distributed to the soldiers who had distinguished themselves in tho action by tho Emperor himsolf. Pierre's heroic deed had been noticed, and his name was in tho list.

When Pierre's name was called, ho came forward wearing the pair of moustachios he had bought with his five-franc piece, and very odd he looked in them, so odd that tho gravest soldier could not help laughing. " What is the meaning of this child's play ?" said the Emperor. Ho was a fine looking man, wearing a long great-coat and a cocked hat.

"Pardon, sire," said the boy; "I wear these things in earnest, not in play. They told me I could only have the Cross of the Legion when I had moustachios, and, sire, I am a child, but I am a soldier, too, and I could not wait for a beard !"

The Emperor took him by the ear and pinched it playfully. " What had you done," ho asked, " when they refused you the cross ?" Pierre told him.

"They did then a great wrong, child," he said. " I love a young soldier as well as an old one; here, take this cross, and take this purse as well." The Emperor took from his coat a beauti ful little jewelled cross, and fastened it to the boy's jacket; he pressed upon him, too, a little silken purse, and Pierre knelt down, and with his hand uplifted, cried—

" God preserve the Emperor ! " There was a great shout raised by the men, and the red-faced drum-major was heard to remark that he had always said Pierre was a good lad, deserving*of reward, and that he had many times predicted he would cut a figure in the army. _ Was there a happier woman in France than Pierre's mother when her son came back to her unscathed, with his little cross and purse of money ? Was there a happier boy in France than Pierre when with his arms around his mother's neck he told her all the story? I think not. Well, and what became of Pierre? Really I dont know. Of course I could imagine that he would be a great man ; but if we have to imagine, yon can do that just as well as L

THOUGHT-READING

By 0. E. Hugo,

It is now about two years since the Society for Psychical Research was formed in London, with tho object of inquiring into a class of semi-supernatural phenomena, the reality of which has long been a matter of dispute both among scientific and un scientific men, and the explanations of which, among thoso who affirm the genuine ness of their occurrence, are as contrary

cud numerous ns the political views enunciated by the many leaders of Her Majesty's Opposition in New Zealand Parlia ment. Mesmerism, spiritualism, thought reading, apparitions, &c., &c, will all in due time be handled by tho experimentalist of the Society, and the truth (if any) which is concealed and buried beneath mountains of fraud " as high as blue Olympus," will be lifted with scientific exactness and un prejudiced method. Tho fact that such men as Henry Sidgwick, Professor W. E. Barrett, Professor Balfour Stewart, C. Lockhart Robinson, M.D., Rev. Maxwell Close, Rev. Canon Wilberforce, etc., are the active members of the movement, is a guarantee to the public that no matter what conclusions may be established by the research, thero can be no fear of the scientific world nt largo treating them with the " pooh-pooh" so successfully adopted in Germany towards Reichenbach's experi ments. Wo havo before us the two first numbers of "The Proceedings of the Society," published in pamphlet form, and each numbering 64 pages. The contents of each consist of the reports by the sub-com mittee whioh were ordered to investigate the so-called thought-reading phenomena.

Some time ago "tho guessing circle" was a favourite game among young people of both sexes. The 'modus operandi was somewhat thus. One of the company would leave tho room, and the rest of the young folks would then agree upon some thing the subject had to do. Usually an object was concealed in a certain part of the room, which the subject was to find at first trial. When he or sho ro-entered the room each individual would think of the thing hidden, and two took hold of the hands of the subject. This was supposed to establish a connection by which tho thoughts wore transmitted to the mind of the guesser, who generally after a few seconds commenced to go round the room, and when arrived at the place where the thing was hidden would stop and take it up. A goodly number of experimentalists asserted that the only explanation of the mystery could be found in the assumption of a transference of ideas from one brain to another by means of nervous contact.

But such a theory would of course run counter to all accepted doctrines in as far as it asserts the possibility of subjective ex pression independent of objective instru ments and material senses. Dr. Carpenter, as a real Tory of science, now thought the subject worthy of his attention, and at tacked it as he at ono time did mesmerism. The phenomenon, he urged, was not at all thought-reading, but muscle-reading. The subject did not guess correctly because tho will of the rest present suggested the idea ; but ho guessed because those holding his hand unconsciously guided him to the object, and perception did the rest. This is decidedly a probable theory. Yes, we think it is a correct theory as rogards the greatest number of facts in connection with thought-reading-, as from careful experi ments we have ourselves observed that the hands will always in fiomo degree lead tho subject to tho place where he is desired to go, although the individuals are themselves not conscious of this. But of course this theory covers only the cases where there is direct contact with the subject. It is out of tho question as an explanation of tho experiments recorded in "The Pi*»_eediiigs" by Professors Balfour Stewart and Hopkin son. One of tho subjects experimented with was the daughter of the Rev. A. M. Creory, Miss Maud. At every seanoe with this young lady she would leave the house while a test was agreed upon, and when entering would stand away from all; fre quently sho would turn her face towards the wall, These are a few of the questions asked by Professor Stewart, " What have I thought of?" Answer*. "A flower." "What is the name?" Answer: "Lily of the Valley." " No." Answer : "Oh, I know, Snowdrop." " What have I in my hand ?" Answer : "A pin." "What colour is it?" Answer: "Black." "What shape?" Here Miss Maud held up hor index finger and b?nt it in shape like aC. Unknown to anybody, Professor Stewart had bent the pin while holding it in his hand behind his back. Professor Barrett "contributes also a re port of his proceedings in the same inquiry. Of 300 trials made by him upon various subjects, chiefly females, 202 wero success ful ; and some of the tests were most diffi cult, impossible to solve by mere clever guessing. On one occasion fictitious names wero chosen. The first row of names were some of those chosen, the second are those written by the subject. William Stubb William Stubbs Eliza Holmes Eliza H Isaac Harding Isaac Harding Sophia Shaw Sophia Shaw Timothy Tailor Tom Tailor Albert Snelgrove Albert Singroe As perceived of Eliza Holmes, sho recog nised only H of the surname, Timothy Tailor was written Tom Tailor, and Snel grove was made Singrore. But even these failures aro remarkable. The following statement by Canon AAril- berforce is still more astounding. The subject in this case was the celebrated Mr Bishop, who created such a sensation throughout England by his thought-reading feats. "The experiment most interesting to my self was this. I took from my pocket a shilling, read tho date, replaced the shil ling in my pocket, made a mental picture of the date, which Mr Bishop thereupon wrote in chalk upon a blackboard. A still more striking experiment with a £5 note was made as follows :—Sir John Lubbock, who happened to be staying here, took from his pocket a £5 note and having privately observed the number, replaced the note in his pocket-book. Mr Bishop correctly inscribed the number upon the slate, with tho exception of the second figure, which he afterwards corrected." A multitude of further illustrations could be cited; but we have quoted suffi cient to show that we have heio some genuine phonomena, entirely new to science, and which wo cannot account for on the present materalistic doe'rines. To offer any theory at tho prosent stage would be hazardous, as after all it would but be a hypothesis. The Society does not attempt it. It's work is tp test facts, not to furnish theories. Their tests have been so con clusive that everyone reading the reports in "The Proceedings" will conclude with a con viction of the existence of some occult, im material, communication between mind and mind.

The individual experience of most of our readers will to some extent corroborate such a doctrine. How often have two persons simultaneously expressed the same idea oc casionally, far distant from tho point of conversation ? Have not most of us caught ourselves, in answering a question before spoken, in replying verbally to an unuttered sentence ?

The Society quotes in its "Proceedings" a case said to have been recorded by all the colonial papers. . " A murder had been committed in Aus_ tralia by a convict upon a settler who had disappeared. An officer of the police was sent to try and discover the perpetrator. He for this purpose went to watch the house of the convict, and whilst so doing the convict came to the window and looked very hard at the officer, who then fancied he saw a murdered man dragged from a post near the house, and thrown into a pit of water. This impression was so strong upon tho officer that he at once fetched a black tracker, who came to tho spot, and said, 'Blood! Blood!' and immediately seemed to follow tho trail to the pit~ of water, where the body of the murdered man was found. Before execution, the convict confessed that he had killed the man at the port with the blow of an axe, and had then dragged him to the pit. He also said that when the policeman was looking at him through the window, tho whole scene of the murder was vividly present to his mind." The limitation of distance affecting these transferences of impressions would be a further object of interest, but space forbids us to enter thereupon. In conclusion we would advise those of our readers who have spare time during the winter evenings to set a couple of hours apart for such experi ments. Many of our a.9"am^™ ce n 8 throughout the colony have tried and been very successful. Of course, some have failed. The literary society in Greymouth instituted a series of seances for the in vestigation of the phenomenon during our stay there, but their patience and persever ance was not rewarded by the slightest success. All individuals are not capable of making good subjects. From Professor Bar rett we learn that young girls between 15 and 18 are the best.

DECLINE OF MAN.-Hwjw, W'******'.*''™*^ liapotoO'-e. Sexual DeMity, c-ieil by**tt ells s Ue.lth Kcua- er. ■.thrutgisu. X( ___ th __ a , | p-.uer.4c,. AgmW, ArdOM-4..

UNKNOWN.

Ox a sultry afternoon in July, 18—,a brig

antine, with all sails set, slowly rounded

■ the North Head of Wick Bay, and steered to an anchorage to wait the rising tide to a height sufficient to admit of her entering the harbour. As the vessel passed iutco the bay, persons on the headland observed that sho was followed at a distance o c. two or three hundred yards by a whale, which at intervals rose to the surface, sent a jet of water into the air, and then plunged down wards with a flourish of his tail. The appearance of whales off that part of the coast is no unusual thing, but one of those huge animal? actually entering the bay was an exceptional occurrence, and was noted accordingly. In a little time the brigantine furled her sails, dropped her anchor, and swung round on the tide. Tho whale, which appeared to be about forty feet in length, now passed close to the vessel, and began a series of gambols in hor immediate neighbourhood. It subsequently transpired that the animal had followed the brigantine all the way from Stornoway, being evidently attracted by the bright new metal with which the vessel's hull was sheathed.

There were, as usual at that period of the year, many persons about the shores of the bay, engaged in putting things in order for the great " herring harvest" which was about to begin, and no sooner was their attention drawn to the presence of the whale, than by a common impulse a grand hunt of the marine monster was resolved upon and a general launching of small boats took place. When the boats were got into the water, quantities of stones from the beach were thrown into them, and the men about to embark seized such weapons of offence as were handy. The plan of attack was to form a line of boats across the bay to the seaward of the whale, and then advance towards the shore and try to drive the animal on the sands at the river-mouth. In order to carry out this design, the boats were rowed along the shoro on either side of the bay, until they got some distance beyond tho scene of the whale's gambols, when they were extended into line and advanced in that formation, their crews in the meantime hallooing and throwing stones into the water. In due time the whale appeared to realise the situation, and shaped its course towards the sands which occupy tho inner angle of the bay, the boats closing in rapidly on its track. When the animal found itself in shallow water.it began to plunge about wildely,and at one moment appeared to be completely stranded. By a desperate effort, however, it got away, and headed towards the lino of boats. This movement created intense excitement, as it was feared that a flurssh of the animal's tail might work havoc among the hunters. The shouts of the men, tho beating of the water with their oars, and the rain of stones

had their effect, however, and the whale again and again got into difficulties on the sands. In tke meantime, the report that a whale-hunt was in progress had got abroad in the town, and the cliffs and jetties were soon lined by eager spectators. Among the people on shore when the whale first came into view was old Sandy Manson, who had struck many a " fish " when serving as harpooner on board a Peterhead whaler. Promptly recognising what was the proper thing to do, Sandy thrust into his waist coat the short clay pipe he was smoking, and hurried to his house, which was not far off. The chief ornament in his sitting room was an old harpoon, a trophy cf his early achievements in Davis Straits, which was slung from two stout nails over the mantel shelf, aud which had formed the text of many a yarn spun for the delectation of the fisher-lads who made Sandy's home a place of resort on winter evenings. Snatching the harpoon from its resting- Elaco, and threw ing a coil of rope on one of is arms, Sandy hurried to the shore, full of that fervour which the cry of "A fall!" used to excite in him of old. Jumping into the first boat he came to, Sandy was soon a conspicuous figure in the hunt as he stood erect in tho prow, with the harpoon poised aloft in his right hand. Unfortnnately for him, however, he never got a chancre of using the weapon, for the whale, as if by instinct, avoided the neighbourhood of his boat. For upwards of an hour the animal, dodged about without being able to pass the line of boats, and during that time it frequently appeared on the surface, and' was assailed with oars and stones, and in one instance a small anchor was thrown upon its back. A bullet, from a rifle struck it, evidently in a sensitive part, for it tumbled about in agony for some time afterwards, and it was noticed that the water was tinged with blood. A feeling of pity for the animal which had struggled so bravely against its assailants now began to manifest itself, and the beaters of the waters relaxed their efforts. The excitement was revived, however, when, after remaining for an unusually long time under the water, the whale was seen to be onco more in difficulties on the sands, lash ing the sea into foam with its tail, and making a loud noise as it blew jet after jet of water into the air. None of the boats were near at this , moment, but some venturesome persons among the crowd on the shore rushed into the sea to attack the animal as they best could, and to place themselves in a position to claim the prize should the whale fail to work itself clear of the sands. Their ap proach stimulated the animal to fresh efforts, and once more it got into deep water and headed seaward. When it next ro.=e to the surface it was outside a numoer of the boats, and in a fair way of getting out of harm's way. A ready rifleman in one of the outer boats, however, succeeded in lodging another bullet in its body. This caused it almost to leap out of the water, and then taking a grand plunge into the deep, it continued its jurney out of the bay at a speed which defied pursuit. It was seen.to come to tho surface soveral times afterwards, but was soon lost to sight. The hunters, seeing their game beyond reach, then gradually returned to the shore, and began to exchange speculations as to the size of " the fish," the quantity of oil it would yield, and the chances of its having received a fatal wound, Sandy Manson sulkily restored his harpoon to its old resting-place, and the townsfolk, after the passing thrill of excitement, resumed their avocationswithrenewedvigour. Three days afterwards, by which time the incidents of the hunt had been thoroughly talked out, the carcase of a whale was washed ashore at a fishing station a few miles south of Wick, and an examination of the wounds which it bore proved it to be the same animal that had afforded such an afternoon's excitement. One of the rifle-shots, it was evident, had reached a vital part, and the conclusion arrived ,at was that the whale had died j within an hour or two after it got beyond j reach of its pursuers.

Mahomedan Festival in Mel bourne.

The Mahomedan Festival was celebrated on 23rd July at Melbourne. About 70 dis ciples of Mahomet took part in the cere mony. Some ten cabs brought the Maho medans to the Albert Park, and they imme diately made preparations for worship. First they proceeded to the lagoon and washed thoir feet, mouths, hands, and faces. They next selected a grassy plot of ground alongside the railway line, and after having taken the " bearings," prepared to worship, with their faces towards the west. A largo stool, bearing a very handsome cover, was placed on the ground, and upon this the Koran was deposited. They next busied themselves spreading on the grass a quan tity of calico, and then, having removed their boots, stood on the cloth in three rows. The priest stood a yard from the rest, and pronounced in a singing tone the words, " Allahil Akbhar." Immediately this was done the assemblage bowed rever ently. The saying of the prayers continued for a minute. , The priest alone repeated them, and then all fell on their knees, and almost immediately afterwards prostrated themselves. The priest continued the prayers, and the Mahomedans constantly bowed. This lasted for half-an-hour, after which they sat down. The priest then retired from his place, and another man stepped forward ;" and, standing on tho stool facing his auditors, read for half-an hour in a sing-song tone select passages from the Koran. After this was done all joined together in prayer for about two minutes, and the ceremony terminated. Service over, they embraced one another in true Mahomedan fashion. There is a par ticular art even in this, and several gentle men holding high positions in India are adepts at it. They approach one another smilling, and, having seized the waist, bend over each other's left shoulder first, then over the right, wink over each shoulder, and then release their hold and gaze af fectionately at one another. It took about ten minutes or a quarter of anhour to finish this ceremony, and then they put their boots on and repaired to their cabs. Some of them went as far as Sandridge, where they bought two goats, and having returned to the spot where they had prayed, sacrificed the animals, and took the carcases away with them to their houses. All were dressed in Indian costume. They kept their caps and turbans on, but removed their shoes. The priest wore a large cloak made of Cash mere goat's hair. During the whole service the worshippers wore a remarkably revgr-, ential;aspect, ■ ,„_hin„-„i4'_

TRAINING DOCS.

• Tiikre arc many circumstances connected i with the acquirements of both dogs and niiii which are extremely difficult to unfler- • stand. That such mental gifts as areW ■ stowed upon n man by nature should descend ■ in pirt t'i ids children seems reasonable , enough, and it is a matter of everyday ob servation. The gift of music proceeding from a fine ear, of drawing, painting, facility in calculating, and other natural talents, are undoubtedly to a great extent heredi tary. We havo all seen instances of the children of persons so gifted inheriting such accomplishments oven when brought up in remote districts, and away from tuition ; and we all know how fatally true the doc trine of hereditary crime is. But it is much more difficult to understand how acquired knowledge should become hereditary, and yet such is the case, to a certain extent, with men, and to a much greater degree with dogs and other inferior animals. It is a fact known to experts that there is even a certain degree of similarity in the handwritings of father and son and of brothers under ordinary circumstances. Now, it is a well-known fact that dogs, unless they are spoiled by bad training, will follow the instincts of their parents. At one time of my life I owned & large sheep and cattle station, whene we kept some twenty or twenty-five dogs of several kinds, and it was very amusing when out with'a party of them to see each follow his own trade, so to speak—the sheep dogs walking soberly in advance, leading up to where they expected to find the sheep, and taking no notice of anything else; the little terriers, sniffing and scratching at every rat hole; the sporting dogs, ■ quartering all over the ground with their noses on the look-out for feathered game, although what they expected to find at that time it was hard to say, and I doubt not, had there been such a thing at that time as a pheasant or partridge they would have run the scent f, down, notwithstanding that they had never seen one in their lives. H one was to record all the wonderful cases of intelligence in dogs that come under one's own observa tion it would occupy, not merely the space of an ordinary article here, but a good large volume ; and what is worse, I fear many of these stories, although perfectly true, would not be believed. I don't think my friend.* Mr. King, of Queen-street, would be dis- W pleased at his name being mentioned in connection with his good old dog—hifl fifteen years friend—who died a short time ago, and some of whose virtues deserve to be recorded. This fine animal, a pure-bred retriever, used to carry in the firewood OM it was cut, and deposit it in its proper place, for which it always claimed the usual reward of a piece of bread. Every day it used to wait at the main road for the post man and receive the newspaper, and carry it home to Mr. King's country house; but one day, after delivering it into his mis tress's Hands, it sieemed greatly put out, and declining its usual reward, left the house; on being watched, it was seen to return slowly along the road it had come, looking for something, until it came to the gap ir_ the thorn hedge it used to come through, where it discovered a portion of the cover of the paper that had been torn off; this it took up and carried home, and then claimed its piece of bread. I have known scores of instances of pointers and setters which had never been trained in any way point per-, fectly, and make first-rate dogs to shoot over, whereas all th. thrashing and train ing upon earth would never teach a bulldog or a mastiff to do such work., or if it did it would be a rare instance. In the earliest days of Otago, a shepherd from the Cheviot Hills came there to settle, and brought with him a pair of pure-bred collies. They were very handsome dogs, and came of a long line of celebrated sheep dogs, and it was. not only wonderful to see the way these dogs worked, but all their descendants took up the business instinctively without any „ ; . training whatever. Mr. Miller (such was^;1 his name) made quite a small fortune out of pups. I had the good luck to get one for. £25, and I certainly would not have taken, four times that for him. By care and . industry this man came to be a large sheep stationer himself, and many o time have I seen his fine old '' Jack " herding a flock of weaned lambs without a,ny other shep herd ; he never was known to lose one. He would take them round to the sheltered side of the hill and watch them all day with the greatest care : but one of the most peculiar virtues of "Jack" was, that . although no amoun:, of coaxing, bribery, pv corruption would : nduce him to quit his master's side, yet ii Mr. Miller was to order him to accompany any stranger he would do so at once, and work faithfully for him too, and when his neighbours got into a fix with their sheep it was a common practice to beg the loan of "Jack." My dog, "Help,' was quite as good as his father, and possessed all his rare qualities. To give* you an idea of what we required of our dojgs, ' I will instance a few of their works. Sheep on an open country never settle within a few miles of where the houses are, and when you require to kill for your people's use you drive down a score or so of wethers, select what you require, and the dog is expected to take back the rest by himself and join them on to their own flock, no matter how far they may be off or what other flock',, ground he may have to go over. When wo were short-handed, which was about always, the sheep were allowed to run pretty scattered along the spurs, only so distant were each flock that they did not often mix, and occasionally the master would ride round and put them together a bit, and give them a rough count. For this pur pose he would take four or five dogs, collect the sheep off the spurs on to the leading ridge, and leave them in charge of a dog ; going along the rid^e he would thus put all that flock up in hits, and eventually join them together. The next thing wos to tie the horse to a flax bush or tuft of gross, send the dogs round the sheep, and; run them between himself and the horse. It was now that he wanted a prime dog like "Help" to stand by his side and check them if they ran too quick, and such a dog knew as well as he did just how they ought to be put through, and would check without any telling; it was not a case of 1, 2, 3, 4, &c,, but of 4 and 6 and 8 and 10. . This was a very common operation. The next was more difficult, and required generally two men and several good dogs. It was what was called "shedding," that is, separat ing different flocks that had got mixed without taking them down to the pens; for instance, where some wethers had got into a flock of breeding ewes in lamb. The sheep were run as before, but when a wether came your best dogs had to dash in and separate or "shed" it into a separate flock ; most dogs required a sharp clap of the hands and ashout" Shed I" but" Help" would do it of himself. There is no end to the sagacity and usefulness of such dogs. One day when the pens were full of sheep to be dressed, and dinner time came, we all went todinnerbut "Help," who refused to go, and' on being compelled to do so, sulked, gobbled up his dinner in an unusually ungentlemanly style, for "Help" was always fed on a plate with slices cut up for him like a man, and ran back to the pens. When we returned we found there had been a stake broken, and the sheep were all gone, and off to the hills; but I presently Mr. " Help" was seen fetch ing them back again. Sometimes your sheep will have got over the little streams at the bottom of their projer spurs, and are in danger of going further and getting mixed; they ara wild young wethers. Well, you have to start your dog quietly, and make him run very wide of them. Perhaps he does not even see them, and yet he will stop every now and then to get a signal from you which direction to go in, and you will guide him till the first the sheep see of him is coming up in their rear. Then you signal for him to bring them towards you, and when they are sufficiently near, to stop and retire as he came, leaving them there; and all this is done quietly, without a word being spoken. Again, you arc driving, and the sheep are very tired, and there is no getting them on. OfSeOuree the dog- cannot be allowed to bite their legs, and if he is a good dog he will not wish to do it, but he will come up to you and As good as ask you to tie your handkerchief ', round his neck and under his loins to make him into a bright-coloured dog,, and the sheep don't recognise him, and., will travel along as quick as thoy can. .I have ■ '.*. often heard of dogs belonging to drovers knowing their master's sheep from those of other drovers ; whether it is so or not does ■ not come within my personal experience, but one thing I do know is that there are barely two sheep in a large flock of 1000 head that have exactly the same expression of countenance. At first, when I heard the shepherds talking of this, that, and the , other sheep, I thought they were joking, but when I came afterwards to lamb down a flock of ewe. I soon found that there were no two alike, and therefore I think it is possible the dogs might know them indivi dually. How these dogs are trained to such perfection I must leave till next month. Our respected editor is very indulgent, and very anxious to afford his readers all the information he can in every number, but there is, nevertheless, a limit to all things. If subscribers had only the sense to do what they could to increase tho circulation they would enable the editor to " add to the number of reading pages, and - improve it in other respects M well, and . make the paper more valuable to them selves. It is a hint worth acting upon.— . .fc-^^-in "The North New-Z^lanAlß

ffifl AtJCtfLAttD BVUfclNd STAR, SATURDAY, AUGUST^ 16, 1&4.

3



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