JENKINS & CO.; OR, THE EGOTIST.

A NOVEL, BY K. WEItN Rlt,

(Specially Translated for the Auckland Star from the German by E. Nicholson),

Author of "Student's Manual of German Literature," " ClironoloKir-al Guide to English Literature," &c.

CHAPTER VII,

A COMI'LEX WOOI.N-I

Jessie sat sketching in the gare'en, and Gustav Sandow sat in the arbour near her. He had returned from the town, where ho had been doing and undertaking every imaginable duty except, unfortunately, what the future head of the firm of Clifford was expected to do. For instance, he had not set foot in the ollieo, but there were so many other things todo. First, Gustavoalled on a friend of his brother's, a rich banker, in order at his desiro to give his opinion on a valuable picture lately imported from Europe. As critic and connoiseur were alike zealous, the inspection extended itself to the whole picture gallery of tho banker, a moderately valuable one, and took several hours. Then both gentlemen went to a great meeting on the afiVr; of the town, which was held that day, and at which Mr Sandow, jun. had been an interested nnd enthusiastic listener.

La..tly ho had gono to a small private meeting of gentlemen of the press, who re ceived him as a former membor. Tho common interests of Germany and America were here so thoroughly discussed, and it had grown so late, that when they separ ated Gustav thought thore was no use in going to his brother's ollieo. He preferred going straight to the villa and joining tho ladies. Aftor such a useful day's work, ho thought he was quite justified in enjoying himßelf to his heart's content, which could only be when he had had at loast ono quarrel a day with Miss Clifford. With this viow ho had sought for and found her with aa little delay as possible. Jessie had visibly altered during the last tow woeks. Somo secret sorrow, possibly unconfessod to herself, had overshadowed hor lovoly face, which was graver and paler than before, and the lines round her mouth expressed a half scornful pain that had not been there formerly. Tho presonco of• her guest was evidently not conducive to her happiness, for she avoided looking at him, and went on sketching busily, returning only the shortest and most evasive answers to his remarks. >

Gußtav, however, was not so easily got rid of. As his efforts at conversation did not succeed, ha rose and bent over tho half finished sketoh, studying it critically.

" A very pretty subject. It promises well, but you must alter the perspective, Miss Clifford ; it is altogether wrong." This had the desiied effect. Jessio raised hor head, and looked indignantly at hor adviser.

"You do not draw yourself, Mr Sandow ?"

" No, but I criticise." "So I percoivo. But you will allow me to consider my perspective correct until a real artist convinces me to tho contrary."

Gustav calmly resumed his seat. "As you please. I only claim that Frieda shall be our umpire. She has an uncommon talent for drawing, and has been thoroughly well taught." "Frieda!" oxclaimed Jessie, lotting tho pencil rest. "I wanted to speak to you about her, though. Sho scorns not for from success, for my guardian seems to grow More fond of her every day. To me it is very puzzling, when I think of tho indiffer ence with which he received her at first; but Frieda must have known how to find the right side of hii character, for sbo has sud denly awakened a deeper interest in him than I thought hie cold, calculating nature was capable of. He cannot do without her now. He is unmistakeably annoyed when any mention of her possible going away is made, and this morning, without any encouragement from me, he proposed that our young guest should remain here as my companion." "Has he really done that?" exclaimed Gustav. " That is a great deal; much more than I dared to hope for. Then we ore not far from our object." " That is what I think, and that is why I think it is high tirno to releaso the poor child from her painful and humiliating position. She passes for an entire stranger here, while she really stands in the most intimate relations to you, and is obliged continually to net a falsehood. Very often I see how some innocent question of my uncle's which she is obliged to crave brings tho blush to her cheoks, and how anxious and embarassed she is in tho role you have given her to play. lam afraid she is not etr ng enough to endure it much longer." " She must endure it," cried Gustav. "I know she finds It difficult, aid rebels somo timeM; but I know how to keep her Obstinacy in order." Between Miss Clifford's finely poncilled eyebrows appeared a frown of displeasure. "I confess, Mr Sandow, that I dislike the tone in which you speak of Frieda, and the way in which you treat her, extremely. You treat her completely as a child, who must defer entirely to your superior judg ment, and quite forget the position she must some day take at your side." "She must bo educated up to it, said Gustav carelessly. "She is now hardly sixteen, and lam nearly thirty; so naturally I am a person to bo respected by Euch a "So it appears. But I should require rather more from my future husband than that he should be merely a person I am bound to respect." <• You would, of course, Miss Clifford ; that is quite another thing. _ No man would take such a tone with you." "Probably not 2 because my fortune would have greater claims on his regard. But to this poor dependent orphan, whom mon raise in marrying, such a tone is allow * The tone in which this remark was made »ounded so bitterthat it attracted Gußtav g attention, and made him direct an inquir ing look at the young lady. "Do you think Frieda is one of those who allow themselves to be raised! _ » No- on tho contrary, I think she is very proud, and much more energetic than her age wan-ants. All the less can I understand her present unwilling submission to you. "Yes but there is something due to education," replied Gustav. "But with reference to your proposal about telling the truth now, Ido not agree with you. You do not know my brother ; his opposition is by no moans overcome yet; and will be re doubled if he discovers what looks like a trick Tho moment he finds out that 1 havo'purposely brought Frieda to see him with a definite object in view, his.wrath will be brought down on us, and _he will soon ship us back across the ocean. - That would be sad; then you would lose the object of the whole intrigue. Jessie must indeed have been indignant fc_. use the hateful word ' intrigue, but it passed harmlessly over Gustav. "Jessie, that is what I am afraid of, and I do not therefore wish to risk that object by any carelesuness. My all depends on tny remaining here," There was an odd sparkle in his eyes as ho said these last words, Jessie did not see it; she hod bent her head over her book awain, and was drawing with renewed zeal; but the pencil shook in her hand, and her strokes became more and more uncertain. Gustav watched her for a while, then sud denly rose again. «' No, Miss Clifford, that will really not do • you must not treat the perspective so. Allow me a moment." Therewith he took the drawing and the pencil from her, and began to alter it. Jessio would have protested indignantly, but she saw in a minute that a practised hand held the; pencil, and that a few powerful strokes had sot right her mistakes. i " You pretended you could not draw «. she exclaimed, divided between anger an,d astonishment. "0, it is only dtlettan,fe knowledge that I dare not call talent. V «" Just enough to found my mikmJ^ Here, Mm Clifford." He passed !«#■»• book, fesie looked silently at it, mf tlien afc«i mc; n only admire your wcfP^ monts, of which this is a new pro* . are everything possible, Mr SandriF P° tician, journalist, artist---- M « you « And merchant," added Gust.^ forget the most important—ttu, «^, niversa i in most. Yes, lam a sort ot| fc j genius ; but I fare the fate ofjy . fear-that of being unrecogn|f world." .u^fVoung lady His half-sfcttncal bow to *W Kard fd her showed that fo* the t^en'feemark pass as his world. Jessie let the|| ck up j. er unnoticed, and began to K|Li n g CO oler; drawing materials. "It is gr|| t _ ox __\ o I had better go In. Please dgt^. Mch my yourself; I will send a servatfK .y. ft sUgllt tbingi," and rejecting his aidffi. wvemeptpf her »«>•> t_Z__i_w* ***•'

ing only from the tabic, and left the arbour. Gustav shook his head as ho watched her go. "I seem really to have fallen under her displeasure. She has not been the same for some weeks. I would rather hear her worst outbreaks at my egoism and want of con science than this cool, measured sarcasm. I am afraid that it is high time that I brought out the truth, but I dare not risk Frieda's future. A catastrophe too soon would spoil everything." A carriage drove up to the gate of the villa. It was Sandow returning, and he came into the garden. "So yon are here already?" ho said, nodding to his brother. " Where are the ladies'." " Miss Clifford has just left me." " And Miss Palm?" "She is probably down by the shore. I

have not seen her since I returned." Snndow's eyes wandered restlessly to the lower -part of tho garden. He seemed to miss something, as Frieda had not come to

meet him as usual.

" I have not seen you since thismorning," he said discontentedly. " You excused yourself on the plea of an important en gagement, but I took if for granted that you would come to the oflice after an hour or two. What has kept you the whole day ?"

" First I was at Henderson, the banker's.

"Oh, about the new loan that is being negotiated for M . lam glad you have spoken to him about it yourself."

"Of coin-so about tho loan," replied Gustav, who had no conscience about deceiving his brother on the score of his commercial enthusiasm, though in those wanderings through the banker's galleries no syllable had been spoken of the loan. As he had no desire to bo examined as to the other occupations of his day, ho added quickly :

"And then wo talked about a private affair. Mrs Henderson saw our young countrywoman last time she called hero, and was quite fascinated with her. It is odd that this shy, quiet child should make conquests everywhere. From the first minute sho saw her, Miss Clifford was ono of her warmest friends."

"Tho child is not so shy and quiet as you think," roplied Sandow, whoso eyes still wandered to tho shore. " Beneath her resorvo sho hides deep, passionate feeling, and an extraordinary character. I only discovered it by chance."

"Since which you, too, aro conquored. Truly, Frank, I hardly know you now. You treat this young stranger with an amount of consideration, and oven affection, which you never deigned to show your most ex cellent only brother."

Sandow had seated himself, nnd rested (lis head on his hand.

j "There is something so fresh and tin j spoilt in this young creature. Sho in voluntarily rocalle your own youth to your mind. Sho clings so to her enthusiastic ideas, her dreams of future happiness, and cannot understand that the world is in reality so different. Hor ideas aro foolißhand child ish, and will fall away when life teaches hor otherwise; but when you hear her talk, by degrees all that you have once beon lives again, all that you have had—and lost." He again spokt in that subdued tone which those who knew him in those dayß had never heard him uso, and which Bounded like an echo from those far-off days gone by. Frieda must indeed havo known how to find a side of his chaiacter no one else know of. What in Jessio was con demned as exaggerated enthusiasm had in hor found tho way through this man's cold reserve. Gustav folt this inconsistency, and replied jestingly : —

"All that should not bo now to you. You have lived in tho Clifford's houso long enough, and Jessio has grown up under your own eyes." "Jessio was always idolised by his parents," answered Sandow coldly. "Sho was quite spoilt with love and happiness, und if nnyono did not treat hor with affection and (lattery, blic was afraid of

them, and avoided them ns sho did mo. I never was attracted by that blonde, soft, pitied child, and since sho ha 9 grown up we are still farther from friendship. But Frieda, with her self-controlled reservo that has to bo overcome before you learn her real character, has no wonkness or indecision about her. When you have broken through her outer shell, you fiud only fresh life and power. I love such natures, perhaps be cause I feel akin to them ; and I am often startled to hear from this girl's lips opinions and sentiments which wero mine at her age." Gustav did not roply, but ho watched his brother's faco attentively. Tho latter noticed it, and ns if ashamed of the warmth with which he had been led into speaking, broke off, and fell back again into his tißtial businesslike tone and ways.

"You might have como to tho ollieo for an hour or two. There aro somo important matters to bo attended to, nnd another letter from Jenkins, lie is pressing for tho fulfil ment of your promise concerning the C Gazette, and it is timo you did fulfil it. You must havo had it ready long ago."

" I did not know there was any hurry about it," returned Gustav. "You have not said a word about it for weeks."

"There was a good deal to bo done and said about the thing first. I have had a long correspondence with New York about it"

"Which you have not handed over to me, as you did tho earlier correspondence." " Then I wanted to explain things to you. Now, however, it concerns disagreeable differences which I must deal with myself."

• "I know—you wished to get out of it." Sandow turned on his brother with tho sam. look of speechless astonishment with which ho had heard of his independent journey to the property. "I? Who told you that?" "No one. I thought so from what I saw, and now I soo I was right in my guess." Sandow looked angrily at his brother, who seemed quite indifferent to his anger as ho stood before him.

"Your powers of observation are quite dangerous ! A man should keep himself strictly undor control in your presence, or his most secrot thoughts will not be safe. Well—l wished to withdraw. On further consideration I did not think that the speculation would bring us half the profit wo had promised ourselves. I tried to cancel our former agreement, and substi tute somo other partner, but found it im possible to do so. Jenkins insists on tho fulfilment of our contract, and I am fast on all sides. So we must keep to the original programme." He explained all this in a short, angry tone, playing nervously with his note-book which he had drawn out. His manner showed the force of the anger ho with difficulty suppressed. Gustav apparently did not notice it, but answered with quiet decision :

" But means can and will most certainly be found to set anyone free from such a contract."

"No, because the money which I have already invested in the undertaking ties my hands. It will be risked if I withdraw. Jenkins is just the man to hold me fast to tho letter of the contract, and use it against mo, if I do not go on with him hand in hand, So the affair must take its course."

" Ah, Miss Frieda, you havo come at last!" . . .

These last words, which sounded like a sigh, were addressed to tho young girl who then entered the arbour. Frieda, too, had altered during tho last "few weeks, but the impression they had left on her was (jot the same they had left on Jessjs The childish face, formerly so pale, had fiOV? a rosy Hush, and her dark eyes, though they were still grave, had lost their troubled shadow. Thoy sparkled with pjeased sur prise when tho young girl saw tho piaster of the house, whom she approached wfth frank confidence. "Mr Sandow, you have coipe back al ready ! I did not know, or else I should have come long ago; but,"—ami,' seeing the grave faces of the two gentlemen, sho moved as though sho would have left them, '■'I am interrupting you?'' "Oh no," said Sandpw .quickly. "We were having a dispute afeout business mat ters, but lam glad to end it. Stay here." He threw his note-book on the table, and held out his hand. This man, whose coldness and severity never seemed to melt in the family circle, indeed seemed to be quite another creature. The few weeks must have much altered him. Gustav greeted their young guest in the polite but formal manner ho always used when his brother was present. "I havo a me.-sago and an invitation for you, Miss Palm," lio said. "Mrs Hendor son is expecting you in a day or two to ar range the affair she spoke about to Jessie." "What affair is that?" asked Sandow, becoming interested. Frieda for a moment looked at Gustav as if startled and perplexed, and now answered hesitatingly, "Mrs Henderaon has dis missed her companion, and has offered mo the position. I should " "You will not accept it," interrupted Sandow decisively, and with perceptible "annoyance. "What hurry is there? You will easily find other and better Situa tions." ~ _ XT. X. _. " The Banker's house is one of the best in tho town," remarked Gustav. " And Mrs Henderson is ono of the most unbearable women in the town. She bothers the whole neighbourhood with her nerves and her whim*, and Uejr companion is her

first victim. No, Miss Frieda, you must give up all thoughts of it. I should never let you take such a situation a3 that." An almost imperceptible but triumphant smile passed over Gustav's lips. Frieda stood silently looking at tho ground; her old reserve seemed to return with this treat ment. Sandow misunderstood hor silence; he looked inquiringly at her, and added :

" That is to say, I do not wish to oblige you to anything. If you wish to leave us

"Oh no !" cried Frieda with such pas sionate earnestness that it drew a warning sign from Gustav to recall her to herself. She quickly recovered herself, and continued in a sinking voice, "I am only so afraid of being a burden to Miss Clifford."

" That is a foolish fedr for you to raise," said Sandow in a repVoving tone. "A burden on us? My niece will soon convince you to the contrary. She will make you a better offer than Mrs Henderson's. Jessie is too much alone, and needs a companion ; it is not good for a girl of her age to be without a female companion. Will you be that companion, Frieda? Will you remain with us altogether?" The young girl raised her eyes to his; they were dimmed with tears, and expressed something like a mute prayer for forgive ness.

"If you agree to it, Mr Sandow, I will gratefully and willingly accept Miss tlifford's kindness—but only if you tell me to remain."

A smile passed ovor Sandow's counten ance ; it was short and ileoting, but it lit up his grave features Ilko a sunbeam. "Am I such a dreaded authority in the house? So Jossie has already spoken to you about it, ard you wore afraid of my decision. No, child, I leave my niece full freedom to do it, and will go and speak to her about it immediately, to sattlo the affair altogether. Mrs Henderson will hear to-morrow that she must look for another companion."

CHAPTER VIII. A REVELATION. San now roso quickly, nnd, with a slight but kindly bow, left the arbour. Ho was hardly out of hearing when Gustav ap proached the young girl. "Ho was afraid the Hendersons would outbid him, so ho wishou to muko sure of you as quickly as jiO-siblo," he said

triumphantly. " Why did you look bo frightened ? Did you really think I should deliver you over to this Mrs Hondorson ? Sho really did mako you such an offer to-day through mo, but my brother described hor only too well. I wanted to know what ho thought about your going away. Ho was quite beyond himself about it. Bravo, my child ! You havo done exceedingly well, and to make up for the scolding I gave you at first, I must acknowledge that I am very pleased with you now."

Frieda was not listening to thia praiso. Her eyes followed Sandow, who just then disappeared into the bushes; she then turned and protested :

" I cannot docoivo him any longer. Aa long as ho was so cold and hard I could do

it, but now this deceit is too bad." " Throw the whole responsibility on me," replied Gustav. "I obliged you to tako this position. I havo woven the whole

"intrigue,"as Miss Clifford so politely calls it. I will protect you when tho timo for ex planation comee. But now wo must go for ward, and havo no backward movements. Wo must not break down when we are so near our r,oal. Remember this, and promise mo that you will hold out."

Frieda's head was boat down, she did not contradict him, but she did not give him the required promise.

Gustav continued in a grave voice

" Jessio, too, presses mo to como to a de cision, and I sco she cannot understand my hesitation. She does not know tho conncu-

lion between you. Sho thinks you aro a mere stranger to hor guardian, whoso lovo you havo won, aud who would accept you without opposition. But wo know bettor, my poor child !" ho said as he took her hand, and held it in his. "Wo know that you havo a dark hatred to fight agonist, which has already poisoned a whole life, and grown bo oae with that life that a kindly word or two will not bo enough to banish it. I ttrovo to win your rights for you before he loft Europe ; later I havo

striven for them again, but only to find out how deeply rooted this unfortunate idea is. You must bo much more to each other oven than you aro boforo you can bo sure it will not arise and separate you agaiu. But you do not think that anything but dire necossity would induce mo to lay such a burden on you."

" No, lam sure not. I will oboy you un reservedly, but I find it so difficult to tell ialselioods."

"I do not at all," declared Gustav. "I never know boforo what a sulvo to con science the Jesuit principlo of doing evil that good might eoino could bo. I lie, I may say in perfect peace, even with a cer tain consciousness of roctitudo. But you need not follow my examplo. A child like you need not have attained to bucli heights of objective contemplation as I havo. On the contrary, falsohood both ought to be and will bo difficult for you, and I am only too glad to see that such is tho case." "But Jessie!" remsnstrated Frieda.

" May I not tako her into our confidence ? She is so kind, so good to me ; sho has ope'.od her arms to mo like a sister, and I was quite a strangor to hor." "To bo rid of mo !" interrupted Gustav. "It was only for that she oponod her arms to you. To bo rid of my wooing sho would have received ' Old Nick' himself into the houso if I had brought him, so that

ho released her from tho unwelcome ad venturer. Nothing of the sort. Jessie is quite out of the game. It Is a particular pleassre to me to bo despised by her, and I must onjoy it a little longer." "Because it is only sport to you," said Frioda with a meaning look. "But she suffers for it."

"Who? Jessie? Not sho. She is angry at my wickedness, as sho calls it, and I must at least give myself tho pleasure of making her angry." " You are wrong; it makes her very sad to blame you. I know how she has cried about it."

Gustav jumped up as if he had been electrified. "Is that true? Havo you really seen her ? Shs has cried ?" Frieda looked at his excited face in un measured astonishment.

"And you are glad of it? Can you re proach her with acting on an error into which you have led hor yourself ? Can you bo so spiteful as to punish her for that :" "Oh, the wisdom of sixteen yoars !" ho cried breaking into a joyous laugh. " You aro going to defend your friend against mo. You are very wise for your years, littlo Frieda, but of such matters you know just nothing at all, and you have no need to. You can wait for a year or two. But tell

me, when did Jessie cry * And what did she cry for? How do you know her tears con cerned me? Tell mo quickly : you sco I am dying with impatience."

His face certainly did botray great excitement, and he caught at tho words as they fell from the young girl's lips. Frieda did indeed seem to " know nothing of such things," for she looked exceedingly as tonished, but yielded to his impetuosity.

"Jessie has lately been given mo advice, and asking mo how I daro to trust my

future to such a heartless ogotist as you. I defended you clumsily enough, for I was afraid of betraying anything, and was obliged to listen in silence while sho abused you."

" Well?' said Gustav breathlessly; " well, what more ?"

"Then, whilo sho was speaking, Jessie suddenly burst into tears and exclaimed,

' You are blind, Frieda, you are deter mined to bo so, and I have only your wel fare at heart. You do not know what pain it is to me to be obliged to so represent this man to you. What would I not give for him to stand as high in my eyes as ho does in yours.' Then sho hurried uway, and shut

herself into her own room, but I know sho wept there for hours."

"That is incomparable, quite heavenly news," Gustav exclaimed delightedly.

Child, you do not know how clever you

havo been in your observations. Come, I must give you a kiss for that," and ho em braced the girl, aud kissed her affectionately on both cheeks.

A shadow darkened tho entrance of the arbour, and Sandow stood there a witness to this scene, having returned to fetch the notebook ho had forgotten. For a moment he stood there without speech or motion, then advanced, and exclaimed angrily : "Gustav—Miss Palm !"

The young girl started back in affright, and Gustav turned pale as he released her. The catastrophe which he had so much wished to defer was now inevitable; he saw this at a glance, and prepared to meet it.

" What are you doing here ?" asked San dow, looking at his brothor with flashing eyes. "How dare you treat a young girl in that manner who is under the protection of my roof ? And you, Miss Palm, how can you allow him to treat you so? Perhaps you did not object? You seem to be on very confidential terms,"

Frieda remained perfectly silent under three bitter reproaches, Sho looked at Gus tav, as if she expected him to defend her. He had qnite recovered himself, and turned to his brother to exculpate himself.

! " Listen to me ! You aro mistaken, I will explain everything." "No explanation is required,"interrupted Sandow. "I saw what you were doing, and you will not persuade me to disbelieve my own eyes. I always thought you wero careless, but I never thought you were so lost to honour as, under the eyes of your betrothed, Jessie, to " " Frank, listen to me!" interrupted Gustav, in a voice so firm and commanding that it silenced the man in the midst of his anger. "I cannot allow such words as these to be said ; I cannot sacrifice myself to that extent. Frieda, come here. You sec we must speak one. Ho must learn the truth."

Frieda obeyed ; she came to his side, and he put his arm round her. Sandow looked completely confounded. This manner of proceeding was incomprehensible to him. He had apparently no suspicion of the truth.

" Your reproaches are most unjust," con tinued Gustav, "both to mo and to Fiieda. If 1 kissed her I had the right to do so. Sho has been in my charge from her earliest youth up. Tho poor deserted child has been ill-used by nil those who should havo stood by her with love and protection. I was the only ono who claimed tho rights of a relation to hor, Thoso rights I havo used, and I think I can defend them."

It was surprising how deep and earnest the voice became which was usually so merry and jesting. Sandow had started back at the first words, us if with foarful expectations. All colour left his cheeks ; ho became paler and paler; with his oyos resting on Frieda, he repeated mechanically, "Your rights as a relative? What—what

do you mean ?" Gustav raised the young girl's head which rested on his shoulder, and turned her face

towards his brother. " If you cannot guess,rcad this face ; per haps you will be able to see whose likeness it was you wore seeking. I havo deceived you. I was obliged to do so, for you avoided all possibility of an understanding. I soiled tho opportunity and brought Frieda ovor with me. I hoped you would in time understand the feeling that revivified your half-dead heart; I thought some suspicion must dawn upon you that the stranger who attracted you so much must havo a right to your lovo. This has boon in vain ; this dis covery \\a* como suddenly and unlooked for, but look at these features—thoy aro yours ! For long years you havo suffered under v grievous error, and visited tho mother's sin on the innocent child. Awake from it now, open your arms to your only, your ill-used child."

A long, anxious pause followed these words. Sandow trembled, and for a moment seomed as though ho would fall, but remainod standing. His faco was terribly agitated, and his breast heaved with short, hard breathing, but ho did not speak. "Come, Frieda," said Gustav In a gentler tono. " Como to your father ; you sco ho is waiting for you." Ho drew hor forward, and would have led hor to his brothor, but tho latter rocoverod his speech. Ho mado a movement as if to repulse thorn, and said in a hoarso, veiled voico:

" Back. Your victory shall not bo such

an easy ono. I can see through your act ing." Frieda shrank away ; blio toro herself from the arms of her protector, and started back to tho farthest corner of the arbour.

"Acting!" cried Gustav indignantly. "Frank, how can you j^iy such a tiling now ?''

"And what elso is it?" oxclaimed San

low. " What do you cull this wretched luppot show you have boon playing behind ny back ? So for weeks I have been sur •ounded by lios und deception in my nvn

liouso. And you have drawn Jessio into it, for it would havo been impossible without

hor consent. You have all entered into a league against me. You—"he said, turn ing to Frieda as if ho would pour out tho full vials of his wrath upon her ; but when he mot tho girl's eyes, tho words died on his lips. Ho was silent for somo seconds, then continued with bitter scorn: "Thoy must havo mado it appear very attractivo to you to have a father who would loavo you his monoy, and givo you a brilliant career ! So that was what you stole into my houso with a lie for. But what I swore when I loft Europe, I mean to kcop to. I have no child, and will have none, whatovor the law may say. (Jo back across tho ocean where you camo from. I will not bo the victim of a plot." "That is what I was afraid of," said

Gustav hnlf aloud. " Frieda !" ho said, and went towards her, "now awaken his fatherly feelings. You see ho will not listen to mo, but he must and will hear you. Spank—at

cast ripen your lips ! Do you not feel what lepends on this minute ?"

But Frieda did not speak or open her lips, which were firmly pressed together. She, too, was deadly pale, but hor face had tho samo expression of hard defiance as her father's. "Lot mo alone, Undo Gustav," she re-

"I cannot entreat now, no, not if

my life depended on it. I can only aasurc my father that I am innocent of the decep tion he lavs to my charge." Tho gill's slight figure suddonly rone t> Its full height, her dark eyes blazed, and tho feelings so long suppressed broke passion ately ovor all bounds,liko a stream that can no longer be banked in. " You need not send mo nwny so sternly, I should havo gone the moment I snw clearly that tho only thing I sought for hero, my father's heart, was donicd me. I havo nover known tho lovo of a parent. My mother was estranged from mo, and of my

father, I only know that ho lived far awny on tho other side of tho ocean, and that ho had deserted me because ho hated my mother. I did not come hero willingly, for I neithor know nor loved you ; I only feared you. But my undo told me that you led a lonely, embittered lifo, unhappy in spite of your wealth ; that you needed love, and that I alono could give it. So ho obliged me to follow him, in spite of my unwilling ness, and has always refused to listen when I wished to return homo. Now, he shall

keep me here no longer, and if he tried to do so I should escape. Keep the woalth, father, which you thought was my attrac tion here. It has brought no blessing to you ; that I knew long ago, and I hear it again in your words. Wore you poor and deserted, I would still try to love you, but I cannot now. I am going now, this moment."

Tho anger and defianco with which the girl regarded him were unmeasured, but in them lay proof more positive than any en treaty could bring of the daughter's like ness to the father. In the ordinary course of events the likeness botween the face of the girl of sixteen and the man whose hair was already grey was not apparent at all, or only in certain features ; but now, in this moment of excitement, it was so con vincing, so overpowering in its expression, that nil doubt disappeared, Sandow was obliged to see it whether he likod it or not. Those were his own eyes that flashed at him, his own voico that sounded in his ears, his own firm, unbending resolution now turned against himself. Feature for foature ho saw himself repeated in his daughter. Tho voice of blood and nature spoke out so loudly and undeniably that even the long cherished delusion of tho father began to waver. Frieda turned to her uncle. " I shall bo ready'in an hour. Forgive me for having obeyed your teaching so ill, Uncle Gustav, and lor having made all your sacrifices of no avail, but—l cannot help it." Sho threw herself sobbing on his broast, but only for a moment; then tearing hersolf away and flying past her father, she hurried as if sho were hunted through the garden into tho house. When his daughter throw herself into his brother's arms, Sandow mado a movement as though lie would tear her from that refuge, but his hands dropped, and sinking on to a chair, lie hid his face. Gustav, on tho contrary, mado no effort to detain his nieco. He stood quietly there with folded arms, and watched his brother. At last he aßked :—

" Do you believe it now ?" Sandow rose; lie tried to reply, but words failed him, and no sound came from

his lips. " I thought this interview must have con vinced you," continued Gustav. "You could see yoursolf in your child as in a mirror. Frank, if you do not believe this proof, then, indeed, all is lost." Sandow passed his hand across his brow, which was bedewed with cold drops of per spiration, and looked towards the house, into which Frieda had long ago disap-

peared. " Call her back !" he said hoarsely. " That would be useless trouble; she would not come. Would you come back if you had been turned out in that way? Frieda is her father's daughter, she will not come near you again,—you will havo to fetch her back yourself."

(To be Continued.)

THE BOMBARDMENT OF FOOCHOW.

A Sickening Affair.

(FROM OUR LONDON CORRESPONDENT.)

Very brief and inadequate accounts of the bombardment of Foochow aro as yot to hand, tho " Times " alone, of all the Lon don dailies, having a correspondent on the spot. This gentleman cabled as follows on Saturday night:—" Admiral Courbet gave official notice at nine o'clock on Friday night that he had received orders to mako reprisals on the Mm. The British Vice- Consul and doctor left the anchorage that evening, reaching the English men-of-war at midnight. Firing commenced at two o'clock on Saturday. The bombardment was a sickening business. The Chinese fleet lntely on the Mm has, except two ships, been blotted out. No surrender was allowed to tho sinking und disabled vessels ; the guns having been silenced, they were ' shelled for hours. Admiral Courbet opened fire at 2 o'clock and the Chinese lleet replied almost simultaneously. The Dock-yard Arsenal fired immediately, but with only partial success. The eleven vessels forming the Chinese lleet, almost light river and coast transports were really toys. The French had eight heavily armed ships— the Volta, Duguay Trouin, Detaining, Aspic, Vipere, Lynx, and Villars. The Triumphanto ironclad arrived soon after fire had been opoucd. Sevoral of the Chinese gunboats maintained bravely a rcsultory fire for about 15 minutes, whon the survivors of the crows loapt overboard ; but tho combat was practically finished in seven minutes. The superior artillery of tho French mado tho contest, -uftcr tho disabling of tho Chinese vessels, no fight —it was a massacre. This was tho opinion «f every spectator. Two 18 ton bouts fought well, one sinking near the Champion (English), while tho other above the junks, mudo a good stand. Tho French kept up fire on tho arsenal and the neigh bouring buildings, forts, barracks, and oven villages, until four o'clock, although the resistance of tho shore batteries had ceased at about threo o'clock. Somo of tho French and Chinese ships wero firing close to the Vigilant and Champion. I was myself on board tho Champion. Tho burning gun boats floated down tho stream, ono carrying French colours. Ono paaßcd closo to us, and so also did numerous fire-junks, blazing in n dangerous manner ; but thoy wero ull fended off. Ono English barque was saved by the English. Tho French torpedo-boats exploded the steniß of the Ynngwoo transport, and of two of the sink ing gun-boats. Tho sceno on the river as tho dead and wounded mon floated by was terrible. Tho English saved many of tho lattor. The forts lowor down have not yet been attacked,"

A later telegram dated throo o'olock, Sunday afternoon says : —" The French ro commenced firing at noon to-day; their operations being dirootcd nguinsfc the pagoda and above. It is surmised that their object is to obliterate tho transports, shell the villages, and occupy |tho heights round the arsenal. The French aro now shelling the barracks and camps near Quanto, whero no resistance Is offered. At tho pagoda, the Consulate buildings uro being looted by Chinoso soldiers in uniform and armed. From this wo may judge what procuutions at Foochow are necessary, though it is now quiet. Tho chief of tho French staff reports that the French lohs has beon six. In my opinion, this i» untrue. An Engli.h pilot was killed during a scare last night, when tho French opened a heavy tiro, and it i_ bolievod sank ono of their own torpedo boats. In official circles the opinion is freely expressed that tlio conduct of Admiral Courbnt in refusing quarter to the Chinose Hfllors after the onomy's ressols had struck thoir colours, will, unions modified by circumstances not yot known, cause iutonse exasperation among the Chincso at tho treaty ports. It is leurod that the feeling of tho natives may runsohighas togetbeyond the control of the authorities and thuironderitdifficult for tho Chinese Government to give tho European regiments tho nscessary protection. Ap prehensions aro also ox pressed on behalf of tho European missionaries reri ling in the ntorior.

Lady Colin Campbell's Separation Suit.

In the Court of Appeal Lord Justico Bag gallay has finally confirmed tho decision by which Sir James Hannon and a special jury granted Lady Colin Campboll a judicial separation from hor lord. A sorry subjoct for joy, to bo ridded of a husband ! So ono might suppose at first sight, but to anyone who in familiar with this especial suit tho reasons for jubilation over n legal separa tion are not far to find. Tho day boforo his marriago Lord Colin told his brido that ho had an illness, which ho attributed to a fever ho had ouught tho year befoio, and which, ho said, might necessitate her living rather as a nurse than a wife during the tir_t low months of their married life. Little did tho lady suspect tho true signi ficance of those words, but when later sho loft him, and charged him with "cruelty," and tho medical evidence sustained her charge, ho Buffered tho "indoliblo disgrace" of suggesting that he had warned her of his state, and that sho married him with hor oyos opon, Isot a ghost of a Campbell was in Court to hear tho final decision—perhaps fortunately, for the voice of Justice Bnggal lay quavered as he spoke of tho indignity which had beon offored to a young and beautiful woman, and through her to all her Ktx. Lady Colin's father was in Court, and ho wept when lie heard the irrevocable and happy close of tho case. As for Lady Colin herself, blio was among her beloved poor at Nino Elms at the timo, and had the in telligence of hor triumph borne to hor—no astral body boing at hand—in a telegram which consisted of tho single word " Hurrah." It was the third anniversary of her wedding day, and perhaps the next happiest of her life to that.

Moslem Christianity.

It is a fact strangely ignored that the Ma hommedans are Christians. It is true that Moslem Christianity has suffeied a sort of arrest in a primitive phase, outgrown by tlvc development of Christendom; bat the Mahommedun's faith in the present and hopo for the future world centres in Christ. They are called Mahommedan, but it is an epithet; Mahommed is to them little more than what Wesley is to the Wesleyans. I asked Arab!, in the course of a conversation on theology, why he and his friends so con stantly spoke of Christ as to appear instead of Mahommed, and why the Prophet was assigned no function in tho approaching consummation. " Mahommed cannot ap pear," ho said, "because ho is dead." In answor to my further inquiry ho said, " Christ is not dead; it was a mere offigy of him which the Jews crucified. There aro two men who nover died—Elias and Jesus." He did not say that Elias was to bo " he that should come" in form of a Mahdi, being rather reticent on that point, but he was clear in his belief that Christ still lives, and that ho will "appear" to judge the world and reign over it. This, indeed, was warranted by what I havo read in the Koran and other Mussulman books, but I did not realise before that it been formed into so consistent an eachatology. Afterwards I took some pains to converse on such sub jects with other Mahommedans, and found that these ideas of Christ wero held by most of them with a fervour of faith rarely known among those generally called Christians. The Mahommedan also believes with un compromising fidelity that Jesus was mira culously conceived, that Ho is " the Word which he cast into Mary, and a spirit from Him" (Koran), that He alone of all tho human race performed miracles, and when He shall again be heralded and againnppear, will convert European Christians from their one error (belief in the Trinity), and gather them with Jews and Moslems into ono divine kingdom, of which He will be king. In a letter from Dongola (" Daily News," Ist May), it is related that when certain Austrian priests and nuns were threatened with death unless they would abandon their religion, ono of them said to tho Mahdi, " You say that Christ is to come and join you to aid in making the Mahommedan re ligion universal. Then let us live till Christ comes and tells us to follow you." The Mahdi agreed, and gave orders for their release. I was informed by one who has seen OBman Digna that tho cross is con spicuous upon his dress in front, and a cross on a blue ground is on the skull cap of the Mahdi's soldiers. The dervish cassock which the Mahdi recently sent to General Gordon, with the request that he would be converted and wear it, and which tho general kicked across the room, no doubt had the cross upon it. It is posaible that if the impulsive general had worn it, and visited the Mahdi, he would have been wel comed as a brother Mahdi, if not a higher personage. General Gordon's views of Christian doctrine and " mission" are called peculiar, but they are such ac would readily be understood by a Druse of Lebanon or by any Moslem of the Soudan.—Monctoe D. Conway, M.A.

TOPICS OF THE DAY.

(.BY OUR LONDON CORRESPONDENT.)

London, August 28,

Kate Vauohan', the actress anddanseuse, is not, as many people seem erroneously to imagine, the new Duchess of Wellington. Kate's husband is a Colonel Wellesley, but not the one. For a long time the presont Duke had no children, and his cousin (Kate's husband) was consequently his heir presumptive. A fow months ago, however, Mrs Charles Wellesley presented her spouse with a bouncing boy (now known by co-.irtesy as Marquis of Donro), and with his advent all prospect of the too-attractive Kate ever becoming a Duchess vanished for ever into thin air. The new Duke bears the reputation of being, like his great uncle, a strict martinet. He has alieady intimated to Mrs Kate (Vaughan) Welles ley that Nhe must not expect to be received at Apsley House now any more than in his uncle's time, and exhorted her solemnly to quit the stage and livo in retirement abroad.

Ono winter's night, three years ago, a police constable was shot dead in the course of a struggle with a burglar in one of tho most crowded streets of North London. There was a dense fog at the timo, and though several women nnd passers-by obtained a glimpse of tho criminal, ho got away, and (despite a reward of U2OO for his apprehension) could not bo tracod. Tho police were supposed to have abandoned the search in despair, and most people had wholly forgotten the case, when, tho other day, a man named Orrock was placed in the dock at Bow-street, and, on the strength of a chain of circumstantial evidence wonderfully neat and complete, charged with the commission of this three year-old crime. The police had two clues to work upon, viz., a chisel and an old wide-awake hut dropped by the criminal. An expert examined the former, and found tho word " rock " scratched on the blade. This was clearly the whole or part of the owner's name, for it is tho custom of grinders, when workmen bring thorn their chisels to bo sharpened, to scratch the ' Bender's name on tho article thus. As no one answering to the name of "Rock" or " Rook " could be found in tho neighbour hood of Dalston, tho chisel was subjected to another searching examination, with tho re sult that someone discovered tho letter " O " scratchod beneath the word " Rock." This at once set tho police on tho qui_ vice, for amongst the most respectable residents of the street in which the murder took place was a staid and steady young cabinot maker named " Orrock." The idea that Orrock could bo actively concorned in tho murdor did not at first occur to them, for ho bore tho reputation of being a strict churchman, a Sunday-school teacher, and an industrious, worker. Presently, how over, evidence closed round him. It was found that he had not been at home when tho murder took place, but had arrived shortly after and without a hat, and with his trousors torn and much dishevelled. The police also discovered that a short time previously Orrock had purchased a revolver, and practised shooting at somo trees in Richmond Park. The companion who ac companied him on .his occasion pointed out the trees to tho police, and after con siderable trouble they extracted three bullets, which matched exactly with tho balls found embedded in tho murdered con stable's skull. After this Orrock'B com panions, on theni^ht of the mrrder, wero hunted up, und finding the truth known, admitted that ho had told them he meant to relievo tho Dalston Chapol of tho sacramental plate that evening. He was caught red-handed by the unfortunate constable, and in the coureo of a struggle

lired his revolver at him Tho third ehot entered tho policeman's brain. This case (not a very remarkable ono in its*lf) is principally interesting because of the great length of time ithas taken te work up, and the perseverance of the police At tho trial we aro promised one of tho completest and most conclusive chaii s of circumstantial ovidenco ever pieced together under difficulties.

Tho trials of the mieerablo creatures mixed up in tho unsavoury "Dublin Scandals" coins to a temporary end on Saturday. At one time it was believed that neurly all the custle "set" wero more or lessimplicated, butuiiprejudiced persons are now beginning to deeply regret their folly

in over having listened to such a pre posterous story. As tho Judge who tried Mr Cornwall said, " Such accusations are easily made, but most difficult to refute." On Saturday last an officer in the Grenadier Guards was put in tho dock. The Crown hud no case, and the jury acquitted the young man without quitting the box, add ing that he left tho Court " without a stain upon his character." What a hollow mockery, to be sure ! That unfortunate youth is ruined ns completely and ir retrievably as though found guilty. Tho proferment of the charge was in itself dam-

nation.

Lord Ampthill, who diod the other day at Potsdam, was better known to most peoplo ns Lord Odo Russell. Ho had great good fortune ull his lifo in the diplomatic service, being frequently passed ovor the

heads of abler but less influential persons. He was only fairly popular at tho Court of Borlin, and would far have preferred Paris.

On dit thoro has been something in the nature of a quarrel between Irving and Ellon Terry, and that the latter may not after all accompany the great tragedian to the States. Mary Anderson is back in town, nnd busy studying costumes for her revival of "Romeo and Juliet" at the British Museum. living's season at the Lycoura closed last night with •' Richolini." Urury Lane opens for the autumn next Saturday, Mr Aug. Harris's "Tho World" being the piece de resistance, and the same night " Rip Van Winkle " will bo revived at the Comedy Theatre. The run of "Con fusion " at the Vaudeville draws to a close, and early in September Mr Thomas Thome will re-appear in a drama of domestic in terest by Sydney Grundy.

A right royal riot took place last Satur day night at tho Holborn Ihoatro, at which unlucky house a scratch company had for a few evenings been struggling through a molancholy burle-quo called "Little Loten grin." The performers refused to play un less their salaries wore forthcoming, and as the manager had no cash he found him self obliged to go before the curtain and an nounce in usual form that the " money would bo returned at tho doors," &c, &c. Unfortunately, tho money-takers had de camped, a fact which so enraged tho "gods" that they tore up the seats, smashed tho furniture, thrashed tho manager, and generally played havoc in the house. Eventually the police ar rived, and tho "gods" decamped, though not without threatening to burn the place down on Monday.

Marriage Customs in Tartary.

Among tho Kirgheso the practice of poly gamy obtains. Generally theeldestbrother of a family has more than one wifo. The first wife is mistress of the household, and is called baibkhe. To her are subject, not only her husband's other wives, but also all the other females of tho family. The head of a household will often sond a por tion of his herds several hundreds of miles away under tho care of this wife, whilst he himself will cither remain with his other wives about the grazing ground, or go and encamp somewhoro by himself. In winter tho family comes together again. The manifold circumstances connected with marriage among the Kirghese are some what formidable, and involve the payment of a Mini, besides tho giving of - various presents. The affair is arranged as to its preliminaries, by match-makers, and tho bridegroom, after betrothal, has somotimes to wait for a year or more, until he can bring tho remaining portion of tho Icalim. If during this period the betrothed girl should die, her parents are bonud to give instead their next daughter, or in default to roturn the lealim, and pay also a fine of one or two horses and robes of furs. So also is it if the girl should refuse to marry, which sho may do on account of the suitor's ill-health, or his poverty, or (in somo localities) her personal dislike. Yetanother custom is that if the bridegroom die or refuse to marry the girl, his parents are bound te take her for their next son, pay ing a fine, usually a camel, in case of re fusal. When the prescribed period of botrothalis at an end, the bridegroom, dressed and mounted at his host, goes with his friends to the anl or village of the bride, where tho tent has been prepared for his reception. Throughout the ceremonies of betrothal, the bride's brother has tho right of pilfering from tho bridegroom whatever he pleases ; but now the bride's relations como and take as presents almost everything he has—his coat, hat, girdlo, horse, and saddle, saying each one that they aro for the education of the bride—a seizure that is afterwards repaid by the relations of the bridegroom on the visit to their aul of the relations of the bride. - " Leisure Hour."

NOTES FOR THE LADIES.

(Selectedby Our London Correspondent),

1 The newest cambric handkerchiefs have a wide border, either blue or pale red, with a crescent or horseshoe enclosing the owner's monogram in the same colour in one corner. "Hats with high conical crowns and brims, widening out from the sides, are much worn by children for best, and others of coarser straw are adopted for use by their elders for a walk round the garden or fields.

White and pale creme dresses of nuns' voiling are now trimmed with coffee-tinted lace, and not the shade of the material, as before. The effect is exceedingly good, and makes the toilette look less brlde-like.

Bows of ribbons are the most serviceable and appropriate trimming for hats for all travelling purposes; they harbour no dust that cannot at once be wiped off; they last such a long time clean, and, if spoilt, can so well be replaced.

With growing children it is never well to have too many dresses, as they soon out grow them, and as fashions and colours change it will be found that a child is better dressed with a few fresh fashionable frocks than with a great many.

Dust cloaks become more important por tions of dress each season. The newest now are made in brocaded fawn fancy cloths, and are cut to the figure back and front; they have long capo-hkc sleeves, and quite cover the dress.

A great many dresses are made with long tunics open on the left side, and showing a panel of the skirt trimmed in various ways'. Nearly all bodices are made with a puffed plastron of silk or velvet, whether the corsage be tight-fitting or in jacket form.

At a well-known lace warehouse I saw for ,10s, some Lyons lace, intended to cover skirts of black or coloured silk, as is the present fashion. Tho pattern was designed especially for the purpose ; there was suffi cient lace to make a covering for bodice of dress also.

Ready-made children's clothes, if well made, aro a good investment, but then a long price is chaiged for them as an article de luxe ; but with a clever workwoman to execute, and a mother who has taste and ideas, the littlo people may bo well and picturesquely dressed at a comparatively small cost.

To thoroughly clean silk, lay it on a clean deal table, and, following the grain of the silk, wash it with a thin lather of soft soap and rain-water. Rinse it frequently in cola, hard water, and roll in a cloth to dry. On tho following day, spongo with sour stout, and iron it while wet, having a thin cloth interposed botweon the silk and iron.

A most uncommon head gear was a hat of fine red satin straw, the brim crimpled up in irregular curves, and edged with a single row of narrow dead-gold braid ; in front of tho crown, which was dotted with small gold braid dice, was a vory full cockscomb bow of pale pink and creamy-white satin, loops and ends being edged with the same gold braid.

In Paris skirts for dressy toilettes are made more of shot silk than of any other fabric. They are usually plain, or trimmed with tucks or narrow pleated flounces. These flounces are being arranged in groups in the same manner as tucks, the plain skirt appearing between tho groups of flounces. Tho plain portion is, however, usually covered by a band of lace or embroidery insertion,

The petticoat skirts are simply made fuller than they used to be all round, with steels at back, width 2_ yards. Soft woollon nnd calico add white muslin are the materials used. Tucked skirts can be worn up to thirty years of age, provided the wearer bo tall and slim. Thoy are four yards wido ; the tucks ono inch deep ; five to seven aro the usual number.

Tho season, like comedies, winds up with marriages, and as coon as these are over everyone, hurries off to thoir favourite water ing place, anxious not so much to restore their health as to show off the new chapoaux and toilettes that are kept in reserve for the occasion. Of these special modes many are general to all, or nearly all ladies ; others aro the result of individual taste or caprice, and are distinguished for their elegance or eccentricity.

Travelling hats are now trimmed with ribbons or with squares of all bright coloured silks. Flowers are seldom seen upon them, and feathers are quite out of date. Tho handkerchief squares can be deftly arranged, and firmly secured to the brim of the hat by a number of long, gilded pins. A hat of grey straw looks very stylish when trimmed in this way with a bright yellow " Liberty " square, the folds fixed by pearl-headed pins.

The drosses worn this season, owing to tho preponderance of shot materials and of coloured embroideries, have a most kaleido scopic effect that needs the toning down of tho white and ecru fabrics that are equally fashionablo for summer toilettes. Even these quiet-looking costumes are trimmed with Bulgarian or Persian embroidery, or else embroidered with small scattered sprays of flowers wrought in colours. Shot silk, crfcpe de Chine, and velvet with thick ribs are all fashionable for seaside dresses.

Parisian dress materials have been un deniably lovely, and crepe-grenadines aro somo of the prettiest fabrics yet invented ; they are of light delicato colours; sprinkled with deeigns in faint, half-faded tints called " old tapestry" shades. The pre ferred colours tor tho back-grounds are sea green, dark pistacio, fresh butter, faded roses, and all very pale blues and pale greys. The material is used for ceremo nious visiting toilettes between county neighbours, and for promonado dresses at fashionable watering places at home and abroad.

The best seaside dress as a piece de resist ance is always a serge. Such costumes are made this year with plain, full skirts, and white waistcoats to the jacket bodices. But cottons of all kinds are worn—bluo with red spots) crushed strawberry, plain white dresses, spotted ecru muslia; all these are now fashionable at the seaside, with the inevitable sailor hat. It is usual to wear a serge or plain cotton in the morning, and more dressy cottons and muslins in the afternoon; but it depends entirely on what seaside place it is.

Deep orange la a tone which now and during the winter is likely to find its way into nearly all the best dresses and bonnets. Small velvet lobsters in reds, greens, and other varieties of colour are fastened on the loft side of lo*- bodices with diamond pins. Bonnets composed entirely of marabouts are fashionable, especially in light colours. Dresses of printed net, which at a distance look like mousseline de soie, are quite new, and several were prepared for Goodwood. They are made up over silk. Tea-gowns aro mado of black loco over coloured silks, and cut in the Princesse form.

Tho "St. Cloud" is a mantle of drab woollen stuff, woven with moss and pale chalk-blue threads, which give tone, though they aro scarcely seen. It is plaited in front from the neck to the hem, and a narrow fold down tho centre of the back terminates below the waist, and forms a full loosely-puffed skirt. The back breaths, as well as the plaits in frotit, nnd a small cape collar, are all of the figured material, with chalk-blue and moss-coloured diamonds, while tho rest of the mantle is plain, except ing a fold on the square-cut sleeves and somo knots of satin ribbon of the exact drab shade.

Useful seaside dressos for quite young girls are made of the ordinary striped skirt, such as brown and gold, and worn with brown jersey nnd woollen drapery the same shade. Again, in two shades of blue, with plain blue jersey, or blue and red striped skirt, red scarf, and bluo jersey. Dresses of this description are invaluable to young ladies ; there is i.o fear of spoiling, and they aro comfortable and suitable wear for dull or rainy weather. A sailor hat, with blue or red ribbon round, bow and ends at the side, is all that is neces sary in tho way of headgear. For cool wear, pretty mantles and fichus of Spanish laco are worn occasionally made over a foundation of thin coloured silk.

Some beehived-shaped parasols may be mentioned as novelties : they are mado of tulle or lace very full, and drawn up with ribbon round the stick, so that between the full ruche thus formed and the bow of rib bon the stick is almost entirely concealed. The lace or tulle is either gathered or pleated, and falls to the edge ; some of the parasols are unlined, others are lined for about two-thirds of the way up. A very pretty black lace parasol is quite flat and nearly transparent; the top is of lace, the full-pleated lining of figured net, with a ace flounce round the edge, and another falling from the inside of the parasol half way be tween tbo edge and the top. Iwo knots of cerise velvet ornament the parasol; one is placed on the top close to the stick, the other on the handle.

Among the modes that are generally adopted aro the long grey mohair cloaks, that form such convenient travelling wraps, redingotes, and pelisses with long capes taking the place of Bleeves. The fronts of these new mantles are pleated, and fall straight, and are fastened invisibly. The sleeve forms a kind of yoke at the top, and

! is thetf curved out and falls straight like a p&eririe, folded under below the waist, and ending at the back under the group of pleads 'Which occupy the centre, correspond ing \P!w_ the pleats in front. The fronts are sometimes turned back to simulate revei^ and a band starting from the side seams is buttoned below the waist in front. This is the latest model for travelling wraps, and is very convenient, and easily slipped on and off.

I Woollen materials—plain or fancy—over velveteen skirts, are the ne plus ultra of costumes where fashion and usefulness are both required. The velveteen skirt is either quite plain, with rich folds at the back only, or the edge has a scanty puffing of the same, cut on the cross, and about four or five inches wide. The woollen dress is completed by velvet waistcoat collar and cuffs. All such dresses should have a velvet bodice also to wear as a change from the other. The velvet bodice and skirt can then be worn with a scarf tunic of some other material, and thus make three or four different toilettes— an incalculable advantage when travelling trunks have to be taken into consideration. With the tunic raised high at one side only, ovor velveteen skirt, the side shown of the latter is in flat pleats, or a double box pleat ; with either of these arrangements, the trimming round the edge is omitted.

Large lace parasols lined with coloured silk are fashionable, as are also thoso of shot silk in every variety of colouring, quite plain or else ornamented with a large ribbon rosette placed at the top. Crutch and mascotte nook handles, rings, and plain knobs are all fashionable as handles, but Bomo few are made straight and thick, either of porcelain or of wood, decorated with engraving or with incised carving. Small Grouze capotes are in great vogue ; a pretty model is in cream-white (Stamine embroidered with red silk flowers. The crown is of the etamine in full bouillonm's, and is bordered with a thick soft ruche of red tulle illusion. A bouquet of large pop pies with bows of narrow myrtle green satin ribbon form the trimming, and the strings are also of satin ribbon in the same colour, but a trifle wider ; they form small bows with short ends, this being the most fashionable style.

Many French ladies are employing striped skirtings for their travelling dresßes, and with the simplest materials manage to pro duce very ladylike and coquettish costumes, of which the following may be taken as a good sample. The skirt is of blue and red-Blurting in wide stripes, the bluo stripes being wider than the red ones, and thus forming the predominant colour. The tunic is of fine plain blue serge turned up at the edge with a striped revers. The pleated corsage is of the serge, and is open at the neck over a plastron of the striped material, the stripes being arranged across tho chest, as in the vests worn under sailor blouses. Every lady has at least ono lace dress in her seaside trousseau, and many have more, in white, ecru, and black lace. The fashion is one that may well enduro, for the lace used is

fenerally of good quality, inferior laces eing very unsatisfactory and extravagant in the end, and the dross is far more durable and serviceable than one of silk, which is soon d<s modi, if not worn out, while the lace toilette can be worn for a longer period as a dress, and the materials can be utilised afterwards in many other ways.

Religious Manias.

The strange frenzy known as the Dancing Mania differs from that of the Flagellants in several important particulars. The out breaks of the Dancing Mania burst forth —in the first instance, that is—in isolated localities, affecting only a few individuals. Thus, early in the thirteenth century a number of children are said to have been seised with the malady at Erfurt in Prus sian Saxony, and to have danced the whole way along the road to Armstadt, on arriv ing at which place they fell exhausted to the grouud. Many of them are reported to have died in consequeuce of this seizure, and many more to have retained the traces of it to the end of their lives. A large assemblage of persona, pilgrims apparently from different parts of Germany, made their appearance in the neighbourhood of Aix-la- Chapelle, and there commenced their ex traordinary performances. Joining hand in hand, they formed large circles, and began simultaneously to dance, losing more and more the control of reason as they went on, until their enthusiasm merged in delirium, and they fell to the ground completely exhausted. They then complained of acute tympanites, which could only be relieved by tight bandages round the chest. After the application of these, they remained free from pain or irritation, unless they pro voked a return of the malady by again en gaging in tho dance. Those who for any reason failed to find persons able or willing to swathe them in the manner above de scribed, found some mitigation of their pains by the ruder process of having the parts affected violently thumped or stamped upon. During the paroxysm of their ex citement they were insensible to all that was passing around them. They fancied themselves surrounded by [supernatural presences, and frequently shrieked out the names of spirits with whom they imagined themselves to be "en rapport." Some of them declared that they were plunged into a sea of blood, from which they could only escape by high leaps and bounds. Others professed to have seen tho heavens opened, and the Virgin with the Child Jesus in her arms enthroned in the midst. The insanity spread with incredible rapidity through tho neighbourhood, reaching the great Dutch and Belgium capitals on the one side, and Cologne and tho Rhenish cities on the other. In LiiSge thoy excited so much terror that the magistrates forbade the manufacture of any but square-toed shoes, the fanatics having conceived a great horror of such as had sharp points to them, which were the general wear at the time. For the same reason it became necessary to interdict the wearing of red coloured gar ments, which inflamed the fury of the dancers, as they are known to do that of mad bulls. At Cologne and Metz the mania ran to a greater height than in any of the cities proviously attacked. The streets of these towns were filled with hundreds of these dancers, the inhabitants everywhere hasten ing to join them, unable, as it seemed, to resist the infatuation. As in the instance of the Flagellant frenzy, the labourer left his plough, the artisan his work-room, the tradesman his shop, to swell the band of devotees, and these great centres of industry and commerce became for the time scenes of the wildest and most lawless disorder. The young and unmarried of both sexes quitted their homes to take part in the revelry, and scenes of shameless license were speedily the result. The cases of the American Shakers, and the Cornish and Welsh Jumpers, ought not to be omitted. In these, as Hecker remarks, more than in any others, it is difficult to draw tho line between religious ecstacy and disordor of the nerves. The sect of tho Shakers was founded a.d. 1747, Ky one James Wardlcy—a certain Anna Lee (iden tified by her followers with the woman as mentioned in Rev. xii. 1) being its prophetess. The Shakers accounted dancing to be a sign of favour with heaven, because tho younger brother (St. Lukoxv., 25) was received by his father with "music and dancing." The Shakers were wont to kneel in prayer awhile, and then leap up, ' dancing furiously, springing up to the very ceiling. The exertion would bring on cold shuddering, whence tho name "Shakers." The Junipers, a sect of Calvin istic Methodists, wereinitinted by a Cornish man, Harris Rowland, in 1760. At their meetings they excite themselves by the use of certain phrases, such as "David danced before the Lord with all his might," to dance more and more furiously, until they frequently fall exhausted, and are carried in a state of syncope to their houses.

"Sunday at Home."

Cattle Plague in Russia.

The cattle plague is spreading in the Government of Samara, Russia, and in order to arrest its ravages a commision was recently despatched to Nicolaiovsk, con sisting of a veterinary officer, police nnd servants—tho latter as slaughterers. The peasantry assembled in large numbers at the place appointed by the commission noar the town. Here largo trenches were excavated for tho reception of the carcases of the infected and slaughtered animals. By the veterinary officers command, the cattle of the neighbourhood were driven into an extensive inclosuie. So far the various herdsmen and Owners showed no inclination to interfere. The examination of cattle proceeded, and already three animals had been condemned, slaughtered and their caresses cast into the pits, when an extraordinary crowd of frenzied peasant women advanced from the town, making horrible clangorwith all manner of kitchen utensils. Behind the women came the men, armed with fire-irons, bludgeons, flails, spades, etc. The proceedings of the commission were stopped, and the veter inary officer and his followers barely escaped with their lives from the enraged multitude. I The women openly bewailed tho escape of the officers, whom they swore they had in tended to tear to pieces,

Perjury Among the Asiatics.

The extraordinary recklessness of AsfaS in committing deliberate and circumstantiij perjury always causes amazement to Erin! pcans newly arrived among them. Itfl not merely the scoundrels who hang abiti courts of justice, ready to swear to any thing for a shilling or two, who do tiM but in many lawsuits the principals indute in false testimony to an unlimited extent A notable instance occurred at Calculi the other day, when a native sailor lodge. f? rP. al information with the police that%ji chief officer of mail steamer, then on K| way down the Hooghly, had murdered) Lascar and thrown his body overboard [ Every particular of the crime, including the name of the murdered man, was given and the police authorities felt bound, theii fore, to telegraph orders to have the steami stopped and the accused officor arrested This was duly done, and the supposed Wk derer being brought before the magistrate, the formal inquiry took place, For sbnS time the defendant found it very difficulttt meet the charge brought against him, sul ported as it was by his accuser on oath, Bui «iust when it looked as if the charge wool be sent for trial the Lascar, who was suj posed to be murdered turned up in court Instead of being killed and thrown ovl board, he had deserted the ship just befori her departure, and tho accuser, becoming aware of the fact, thought it gave fata \_ capital opportunity to pay off an old grudge he bore against tho chief officer, fie AM agined no doubt, that the LasCar wouTcj keep silence for fear of being proceeded against for desertion.-" London Globe M

The Ace of Hearts.

Some years ago the Mississippi River was famous for its floating palaces, as the largl steamers plying between New Orleans'anil the ports above were called. Many pro'i fessional gamblers used to make these bOatS their home, travelling back and forth on them, fleecing all who wore foolish and verdant enough to fall into their hand! bo well, indeed, was the system manageel that the various members seemed to havl their different steamers marked out for them by common consent, so that no one wonlS trespass upon tho domain of the others One of tho most remarkable men of thi'l class was Daniel Sturdivant, a Frenchman! tho son of a broken-down scion of nobilityi who had settled in New Orleans before the transfer of Louisiana to the United States.l Sturdivant had been raised a " gentleman"?? by his aristocratic father, but on coming of age and finding his fortune very bad, hat_j takon to cards as a means to better thentf His success was so great that ho was induced to continuo it, until ho was one of the mostf notorious gamblers to be found betweenj St. Louis and New Orleans. About twenty years ago, at the time of which I write, M had attached himself to one of the splendid: steamers plying between New Orleans arid Vicksburg, and had publicly announced hit determination to shoot any man who en* croached upon his scene of operations. :.($ course, this left him in undisputed posses sion of the field, and he reaped a goldeifi harvest during the nine years he had cori'2 ducted his operations there. It was my loiji at the time to be compelled to make very frequent trips between New Orleans aridi Vicksburg, and I preferred the steamer o£ which Sturdivant had taken possession, in asmuch as it was not only the most com* fortable but also the swiftest, and time was of the utmost importance to me. It yrad known that at times I carried large sums o£ money, and I was always apprehensive lestf Sturdivant should ask me to play. 1 made up my mind to refuse him, and if ho at-' tempted to draw me into a quarrel, to shod! him without mercy, as I know that the only chance of my life lay in getting the ndvttn^ tage over him. Strange to say, he did hoti make any such proposition to me, and I took care to give him no chance to do so.' One night we had struck out from Vicka^ burg, and were heading down the riverl when Sturdivant came towards the grout)1 that was gathered around the stove. Hi had been drinking, and was smoking a fine cigar as he approached. "Well, gentlemen," he said, in an uni' steady tone, " you seem to be terribly dullj; Who wants to play for twenty dollars ante?'*! There was no reply. No one volunteered, to place himself in his clutches. . - Pi "Humph!" he exclaimed, with an ex pression of contempt. " Afraid to try your: luck with Daniel Sturdivant, eh? Or': maybe you want a little coaxing. I can't stand such treatment. Come, let's see -vim it shall be." ■ *'.-";f? He glanced round the crowd as if to sele?

his victim, and, for the first time, I noticed the gaze of one of the group fixed steadily upon him. He was a stranger to me, and was dressed in plain homespun, and his face" was partly concealed by a broad-brimmSf sombrero which was drawn over it. Ho was a small but powerfully-made man, and-itf the decided expression of his woll-shaped! head I read an unusual firmness and in? tensity of purpose. "Are you Daniol Sturdivant, the gam bler?" he asked in a calm tone.

"Some persons call me so behind ,my* back," he said insolently, "but no one would5 dare apply that term to my face." 7;S "Nevertheless," said the strangerquieflyri "I want an answer—yes or no." _ i " Well, then, I am 1" said the gamblo? angrily. "What of it?" -7; "Simply this," replied the stranger. -'"■■'<% have heard it said that you claim to be the' best card-player in tho south-west, arid, X. have come two hundred miles to prove voa! a liar." ||S Sturdivant strode forward a step or two* and put his hand into his breast quickly as if to draw a weapon. "Stop!" said the stranger. "Ifyotl shoot me, you will simply prove yourself afraid of me. Take your seat at the tagl and I will proceed to make my word goodls There was something in the calm, sferni manner of the stranger that seemed tttf render the gambler powerless. He hesitated: a moment, and then in a bulbing tone:— Jr_"?; "I never play with a man whose face I cannot look at." '' Never mind my face," said the stranger^ "If you are not afraid of losing, you shall see it when I'm done with you." ;,' "But how do I know that you hive money for such sport?" persisted Sturdtf vant. " You look seedy, my fine fellow." A "There!" exclaimed the stranger. '"£ have ten thousand dollars there. If yoS can win it you shall have it." With an oath Sturdivant placed himself at the table, and bade his challenger do like wise. Those of us who had listened to tbi! singular dialogue now gathered around tho table, expecting to see a game of more than usual interest. The stranger had not raised: hja hat-brim, and none of us had yet seenl his face; but we all felt from his general' air and manner that Daniel Sturdivant had' at last met his match. It did not take long to show us that the stranger was an un^ usually good player, and for an hour or' more the playing went on in silence. The* stakes were high, and the contest was. marked with rare skill. Sturdivant exerted himself as he had never done before, but in! spite of all his efforts he lost heavily, and by the expiration of the time mentioned above ho had lost about two thousand dollars.' -I noticed the flush on his face deepened ci, strange light camo into his eyes, mid at last, with an exclamation of triumph, ho dretf towards him the heap of notes. " That was well done," said the stran»eri " You are an expert at cheating, but go^n I can beat you, Daniel Sturdivant, whethei you play openly or dishonestly." Sturdivant said nothing, but dealt th« cards again. The hand was played, anc Sturdivant was about to seize the stakes again, when the stranger laid down a card and checked him. The gambler uttered _ sharp cry and sat motionless, with his eye* fixed on the card, a worn, faded aco 61 hearts, with a dark stain across the face| Sturdivant's face worked convulsively as ho; gazed at it, and the spootatora gatixeteif more closely around the twt, wondering afej the strange scene "In God's name, who are you?" asked? Sturdivant, his eyesstill fixed on the card. .; " Look at me," said the stranger quietly;. And, as if powerless to resist, Sturdivant raised his eyes to tho speaker. The stranger had raised his hat and sat: looking at fie trembl ng man, with eyes; that fairly blazed with fury. Sturdivant uttered a groan and sank back in his chairj his face white and rigid. The stranger^ gathered the money from the tablo with one; sweep, and thrust it into his bosom.

" The ace of hearts is an unlucky card for you, Daniel Sturdivant," he said coolly' "You played it once when you thought H to your advantage. Now, God helnvouY that play is ended!" . • -"|| As he spoke he raised a pistol which wl had not 6een, and before we could stop h«m aimed and fired. The gambler fell hoavily upon the table, a corpse, hiding the fatal card from sight. " Gentlemen," said the stranger, risingtp his feet, as we stood paralysed with horror at the dreadful scene, " that man ruined by wife aud tried to murder me. I have been hunting him for more than ten years." He walked slowly by us down the state way to the lower deck, and just then the steamor touched at the landing, and-ha sprang ashoro and vanished iv the iditffc woods. ' ■ ' ■ . ■ ■ '~ . ,' -._ ■.1 ..',.._ ~A

THE AUCKLAND EYBNINQ STAR, SATURDAY, OCTOBER 18. IWW.

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DECLINE OF MAN—Nortona Wwlipcfe, DyaiwpoTa, Impotence, Sexual Debility, cuiuJ \>y " Weill' a, Ue&lUi lU-nowcr. At iiniKKUt*. JLw- Xwvtbom«. rwww f Cfc, Aiwti, AD_*tairt»



Good fob Babies.-" Wo are ploascdto say that our baby was permanently cured of a Srious"retracted irregularity of the bowels by foe use of Hop Bitters V its mother, which at tho sanu- time restored her to perfect health and strength."—lsa Parents. See.