A STRANDED SHIP.

A STORY OF SEA AND SHORE.

By L. CLARKE DAVIS.

PART IV. (Concluded),

"Will you take her up and bo kind to her J" Luke said to tho old wifo, whoso arms wore alroady about her.

" Ybs, I will—for her own sake, as we!

as yours," she answered.

Ho entered tho bathing-houso then, and when he came out again a fisherman's great coat, reaching to his feet, covered him. He walked out among tho crowd of villagers, who formed a lino on either sido of him, through which ho might pass, as they would have done for a great conqueror, and then stood sorrowfully watching him as ho passed on to his certain grave.

Tho wreckers had tho lines quite ready, and waited for him. The ship lay a quarter

of a mile offshore, tho sea thundering against her broadside, every tenth wavo making a clean breach over her ; her passengers and orew huddled together on tho forward deck, clinging to tho rigging, gunwales, or any possible object of protection. "Are you quito ready, Capt'n Connor!" the wrecking-master asked, wiping great . toads of sweat from his face. "Allready,Captain." Thovoicoinwhich the answer was given was blithe and cheery; the man's step was freo and assured. " One moment, Captain Brown. My horse there. He has never felt any other legs than mine across him ; promise me that no othor than youtsolf shall over use him." "I promise, Captain Luko." The men gathered around and hid him from tho villagers above. The old wrecking master securoly fastened tho thin, strong cord about his shoulders and under his arms. That in turn was niado fast to a thickor, stronger cord, and that in its turn to a cable of sufficient strength to sustain tho weight of the life-car. Then the wreckers manned

the ropes stretching down to the surf. The time had come. The naked figure of the man gleamed white and solid as ivory - the knottedmuscles stood up about the arms and thighs and breasts in hard, steely bunches. The Hercules scarcely stood stronger, fairer to tho sight. He looked death in theface squarely, and did not falter. He looked out to the far soa-lino, to the wreck crowded with its living freight, then he looked back over his old, foul life, back to the time when it was pure and true. Forgive the man bis one moment of weakness, for it was his last; but ho thought for a single instant of the beautiful world he was giving up for ever, of the women who had lain in his bosom, of tho children who had loved him, of Margaret; and as the mountainous wave rolled in foaming and hungry, he closed his eyes, saying farowell and farewell to them all, adding only, " God have mercy on me, a sinner r

" Wait for the next, Capt'n—not that one—the next," shouted the old wrecker.

" I will wait till you toll me to go," he said. "Keep the line slack, but under roady control; and in no case are you to draw it in until an hour has gono by. If you have to draw it in then, first send the women and children away. Shall I try this breaker, Captain t"

" Yes. God bless you, Capt'n—God bless you—God for ever——.—1'

Tho man was gone. He had waited until the instant that the thundering wave reared its a\#ul crest and poised itselffor the break upon the shore ; then he sprang forward, plunging headlong under it. Then the men about the ropes stood ready to receive back his body with life or without it. But it did not return to them on that wave, and with a piteous sense of terror on their faces they turned to watch tho line that slowly began to uncoil itself, and to glide through the master's fingers. For a moment, while they all stood gravclv watching coil after coil glide away, no man spoke ; then the master looked up, his lips white, his hands trembling. "Thank God, mates, he has passed the first breaker."

He had, and was thus far safe. Diving under, instead of into tho wave, it had swept harmlessly over him, and ho know lie would have a second's breathing space to prepare himsolf for the next one. Ho saw it, a» W emerged into the trough of the sea, sweeping down upon him with a mighty surge and roar, but beforo it could reach him he was down again, benoath it and in the undertow of the first breaker, going rapidly out and out to sea. The villagers and guests cf the farm came down to the shore, and stood where the spray dashed over them, looking out among the traves with anxious, hopeless eyes, but nowhere could they distinguish the head of the swimmer; and they thought sorrow fully of him, as one over whom the deep waters had closed, leaving his place vacant among living men for ever. The line stood still, or swayed from side to side, then ran out rapidly and tightened in the Captain's fingers ; again it slackened, and yard after yard of it was flung back to shore on the crest of a wave; but as often as . hopo seemed certainly to die in the hearts of the watchers there, the line would gather up and tighten, giving assurance that Luke Connor was still alive.

He was alive, and having treated the third breaker as he did the former ones, it passed as harmlessly over him, and by no power of theirs would he ever touch the shore again. Between him and the ship there was yet nearly a quarter of a mile of mad, turbulent sea, rolling and heaving be fore tho wind, on which he was tossed like a cork—forward sometimes; sometimes backward. But all that was really nothing to the skilful swimmer, who had learned his art in tho ocean. If his strength endured tho man was certain to win. So on each wave he ro3o and fell, now going ahead, now losing more in one moment than he had gained in three, yet on the whole Burely lessening the distance between him and the Bhip, for the tide carried him forward. By the side of the old Captain stood Mar garet Daunton, very quiet, pale and tear less. She touched the wrecker's arm, and he.looked up. "I would like to hold that cord, if you will let me," she said. "My band is even steadier than your own. I know what is to be done. I have stood here watching you from the first. Will you let me take the cord now ? Do not fear; no harm shall come to him through my hands. Will you trust me with it ?"

" Yes, • I will, Miss Marg'ret— I'll trust you ; but remember, he's past tho breakers now, and it's only a question of main strength with him. There are a thousand chances that the sea will wear him out be fore ho can reach that ship; and if, when every breath was precious as life to him, that cord tightened in your hands, it might drag- him down never to come up again, I've told.you now, Mies Marg'ret, will you take it?"

"Yes, Captain Brown, and it shall not be tighteiftd nor loosened in my hands •wrongly. I know what is to be done. There is no one here that has my right to hold that cord."

He handed it to her, and she stood ovqr it in hid placo and felt, as it glided through her fingers, that Luke Connor was yet safe, and directly came to know by its decreas ing coils that either ho had drifted far away from it, or tint ho was near tho ship. She held it until tho minutes seemed to have crept iuto hours, hours into days, and it yet glided away, or stood still, or was washed shoreward, while other hours and days seem to evolve themselves out of its coils, until all boiipo of time and scene was lost to her. But as certainly as hope seemed to die out in their hearts, causing them to look blankly into each othor's faces, so surely would the lino tighten again and fling back assurance that Luke Connor wa3 etillamong living men. But in the moment that the smilo was brightest in their laces, and hope greatest in their heart?, yards and yards of tho slender cord glided swift as lightning, or a fish's flight, through the girl's 'lands, and tho Captain sprang toward her, dragged it from her gra3p, and hauled it fiercely

" What is it, Captain Brown ?' shecried piteously. " What is it that I have done wrong ?" "Kothin' wrong with you, Miss Mar g'ret," he • answered, gruilly. "Nothin' wrong with you, but more nor an hour is gone, Miss Marg'ret, and wo should have a-drawed in afore no«v."

A frightened whisper, which she eagerly caught at,'wont through the crowd, and killed every particle of hope within them. What she hoard was this :

"There be a dead man and a shark at t'other end of that line."

She started up from among them, her hand tossing back from her eyes the golden splendour of her hair, her right arm stretched straight out before her, her voice ringing, resouant. "No, no up, you mis take. Sea there! see there ! Look' at the

ship, and thank God. Oh, thank God, all of you !" They turned their eyes to where the white arm pointed, and they saw a man naked, dragged up from among the jib chains of the wretched ship, they saw him mount to the deck, and heard the passen gers and crew shout out their joyful cry of deliverance.

"Now.^then, some of jou women take care of that girl, can't you ?' tho old Cap tain yelled. "And men, can't you raise a single cheer for tho brave fellow as saved a hundred lives ? Can't you yell, you devils, you ?"

No, they could not. The old Captain could not do it himsolf. "I can't help blubbering a bit, Tom Hemphill, for I am mortal fond of that young fellow, I am," the Captain eaid. For awhile they wero all .dumb; their sudden gladness, after the sharp pain, was crackins their heartstrings, choking them. But the moment gone, th y shouted till they. were hoarse, and then all of them went to work like men who had just waked up and were beginning a new day, fresh and hearty, evory one of them working like six. Then away spun tho line, through no body s hands now, away and away until the last strong cable of all was made fast to tho slrip, drawn taut, and then along spun tho life-car, with a couple of bravo fellows in it, to the wreck.

In fivo minutes it was back again on shore, full of womon, with thoir babes on their breasts, and a hundred womon more, fish wives and fanners' wives, with thoir babies snug at home, all crowding about the poor, delivered poople, trying to show them, by all tho kind ways thoy knew, how thoy rejoiced over the rescue. But there was ono little baby in tho car with no mother's breast to lie on now, for she had gone down into tho cruel foam of the sea whon the ship parted ; and Margaret Daun ton took it reverently in her arms, saying that God had sent it to her, and calling it Theodora, and she calls it that to this day. The sturdy wreckers worked with a will; but somehow, they wore silent and awed over this doliveranco, for tho curious fancy of Luko Connor had got abroad among them; and rough and coarse as many of them wero, they believed in his fancy ; and as they dragged the life-car to and from the ship, until every man and woman and child, except the ship's officers, wero landed, they wero strangely impressed with the belief that God had wrought as great a miracle that day among thorn as Ho had done long ago, when ho bade othor fisher men, humble as themselves, "launch out into tho doep and let down thoir nets."

Dressed in it suit of tho commander's clothes, Luke Connor stood with the officers of tho wreck around tho life-ear ready to embark, when tho steward called to them from tho after-deck. "Hold on there," ho said, "A passenger has been left in his berth, too ill to leave it without help. He w-as left in the cabin when the ship parted, and I have not seen him sinco. It is tho young India Ensign, Abel Dun letho."

" Let me go for him, Captain Stovens," Connor said. "I am the stronjost and freshest man among you all. I would like to give this Bick man his first sight of land and safety.

" Very well, Mr Connor, you shall have your wish. Thero is nothing that I could deny you to-day. I will show you his quarters." Connor darted past the Captain, caught up a plank, bridging over tho chasm in the ship's deck, crossed to tho other sido, and the next moment stood in tho after-cabin ; the only other occupant of which was George Lawrence, the man Luke Connor flung off of Dunlethe's wharf, that com mencement-night long ago. The two men for a moment faced each other, unutterable amazomont stamped on their features. " Thank God, thank God for this," Luko Connotsaid under his breath, awed, and feeling as if God himself stood somowhoro near.

The gaunt, emaciated face of tho sick man grew whiter and thinner as ho stnied blankly into Connor's eyes. He tried to raise himself upon his elbow, but was too weak. "Have you come again to kill me ?" he asked, his voice husky and weak. "I am less able to cope with you now than when you thought you had murdered me, but I will not ask my life at your hands. I deserved that you should kill me, yot now that I have seen you again I would like to live. I laid hero waiting for death with the breaking up of the wreck, when J hoard your step upon the deck, and then I thought 01 'rescue and a chauco for a longer Ufo over there in England. I was coming homo hero only to clear ysur name, to show myself among those who thought you had murdered me. Have you come to save or to kill me, Connor?"

"I came to save you. Tell me how it is that I see you alive?" asked Connor, still speaking in an awed whisper. "I was picked up from tho side cf tho wharf where you threw me, by a Loat that had already started for the landing to take me on board tho steamer fur California. I was carried aboard of her, my wound dressed, and I arrived safely in San Francisco. Then I went to India."

The light of the recognition of a brave man shone in Luke Connor's eyes. "Aro ypu the soldier," he said, "that they call Abel Dnnlethe?—the man who won tho Victoria Cross for planting tho standard on the ramparts at Lucknow f'

" i'ea, I am," George Lawrence said, a momentary glow of pride in his tone, his fingers touching the ribbon of tho cross laid under his pillow. " I first tried to get shot, and then I tried to live a better, truer life than I had ever known, I started home to tell you that the man you thought dead yet lived, and to ask you in your mercy to forgive him."

What were the words of Kingsley's legend ? Luke Connor asked himsolf. Pre sently, recollecting them, he said, "Law rence, I have read that God grants it to but few men to carry a line to a stranded ship, or to plant the standard on the enemy's ramparts. To me He has granted the first, and to you the other. I accept it as a token that Ho has forgiven us both ; and as He hears me now, so do I forgive you." "God bless you, Connor. Will'you carry me out now? lam not a heavy weight," the Ensign said. Luke Connor wrapped the sick man in a blankot, placed him in tho life-car carefully, as mothers- that day had placed their chili.' rev thicro, iincl then tlio ctir was hauled away, bearing the last living soul from the wreck.

A curious motley crowd of human beings, wreckers and wrecked, fishermen and thoir wive?, and guosts from the old farmhouse by tho river, stood massed upon tho shore, as noar to the sea as they could get, waiting to welcome their hero among them again. When he landed, the shout they sent up was not only for him, but as a defiance to tho defeated winds and waves. Ho, the man who bad brightened their homos, had conquered eoa and storm, delivering from tho jaws of death a hundred lives. The rescued alone could not join in the shout, but they drew near to him, craving only to touch the man who, when they had looked into each other s eyes, mutely asking how soon their watory graves would open^had turned.the hand of death aside and made home and happiness possible realities to all of them. Higher up tho shore Margaret Daunton stood alone, waiting for him. Seeing her there, they released him, and he went to her. He put out both his hands to meet hers. " Margaret," he said, "Ihavo comeback to you." " Yes." she answered, ", God has given you back to me." They walkod up the beach to whore the Professor stood apart, looking out at the old hulk. He went down to meet them, and I think that, in the brief moment in which they stood with hand clasped in hand, there came to each of these men thorough recognition of the other. "It was curiousl," tho Professor said, " that tho Captain's last act aboard should be to set his flag at the peak, Now, we would naturally think that his mind would be bent on graver things."

"I don't know aboufc that, Professor," Luke answered. "The flag will still wave and keep guard over the old hulk after her docks have gone under; and passing sailors seeing it, will know that her captain" was the last man to leave hie ship. But, Professor Daunton, there is a sick man yonder whom you once knew. Wherever the story of Luck now is repeated, he will be known as Abel Dunlethe, but we, Professor, know him as George Lawrence. I would be glad if you could be kind to the man. Ho means to show himself among the- people who once knew him and me, and then to return to England, where he has - friends, and where he hopes to find health again. Yes !it is true, the dead has returned to live, and 1 would like Margaret to hear the story now ; but I would like you.to toll her, Professor."

'' Captain Connor; you'll excuse me break ing in here, where I'm most likely not wanted," said the old wrecking-master; " but " Mies Marg'iet here, who's by sights the most oureasonable young woman I

know, obleegcd me to give her that line to hold, because you was strung onto the other end of it." As the old fellow fired this tremendous shot, his face, which had been grave as an owl's, suddenly relaxed into a broad smile, and there was a jolly gurgle of laughter in his throat. '' So you held tho line, Margaret ?" " Yes, Luke."

"See, Margaret," ho said, taking her hand in his," "see how tho old fables re peat themselves! An Argonaut sails into your inlet one day, and as he steps ashore the aun is shining on tho tawny masses of your hair, and ho knows that he has found thegolden fleece he sought, and that it waves alone for him, a symbol ol eternal happiness."

_ Starlight has fallen on field and sea and river, and Margaret Daunton's shining hair is lying on her mother's breast; she has told her secret to the only woman who has a right to know it. " Bring Luke Connor hore, Margaret," her mother said, "But listen to me first; when I took you across the threshold of your desorted homo (and you wero only a little child then, with your head upon my breast, as it now is), I mado a solomn vow to God for you, which I am trying hard to keep. I hope God hoars and sees mo now, when I give you to this man, and >o keep the oath I mado; for it should count in His eyes against a multitude of sins. That is all, Margaret: bring him hore,"

Starlight on field .and sea and river, and tho stars looking down saw somo wreckers grouped about a fire on tho shore, like jackals waiting for thoir prey, patiently watching an old hulk stranded on tho bar, battered and hammored at by tho sea, with the red cross of St. Goorgo flaunting bravely at her poak. Thoy saw her, as she was slowly beaten to death on the shoals, lurch suddenly to leeward and go down for over into tho unknown dopths. Tho stars looking in at tho farm-house window, saw tho old Profossor sitting at the bedside of a man, on whoso breast gloamed the colours of the Victoria Cross, thinking grimly that a bit of ribbon, or a woman's golden hair, might count in men's lives as tho greatest triumph—or tho greatest loss. "Of all the wrecks upon tho shore," he thought, "tho worst aro those with which tho foa has nothing to do." The stars looking down saw Margaret Daunton and Luko Connor standing together by the gato, looking seaward, quiot and happy in their triumph of love. They saw no more rough seas nor stranded ships. " God is good, and all la well. Bald Margaret.

[TDK END,]

To Would-be Runaways.

Sage Advick to Youtuful Asmkants for Greater Glokies than they Have at Home.

Come, now, my lad, but you want to run away. No boy ever yot ronched the ago of 15 without having several times firmly re solve-! to leave home. When a boy has made up his mind to a thing of this sort ho ought lo carry it out by all means. Tho first step in tho programmo is to begin saving up bread and meat. Whon you havo a bushel or so of provisions hiddon in tho barn or under the woodshed, you aro ready for the battle with the_ cold world. Mako your start at night. This will prevent tho sun from tanning your complexion, and you will be quite cortaiu of tho company of a tramp or

Somoboysleavo a note pinned to tho pillow of their bed. This noto goes on to say that tho boy has been jawed, bulldozed, atarvod, pounded, and knocked down and dragged out, until ho has mado up his mind to Bcvor tho connection. Ho will never bo heard of more. It is probably tho best way to leave a noto of this kind, as tho family are then made to fully realise thoir cruelty in driving the poor boy out among strangers. When you havo packed your little bundle and aro off it will be well to settle upon somo plan for the futuro. Perhaps you want to bo a sailor? Nothing is easior. Make your way to somo lako or seaport, and most any captain will take you. If he can't disgust you with tho sniloring business in a week, tar buckets, seasickness, ioor pro visions, then a ropo'd end will be called upon to assist him.

I'orhaps you want to become a mighty hunter ? Mighty hunters aro not made in letting your hair and finger nails grow, aloepinginaawanip, and wasting ;J2O worth of ammunition to kill a ten-cent chipmunk.

Ifyouhavedeeidedto beconioa bankclerk, well and good. Mako tracks for the nearost city, and tho first bank you enter will jump at the chance of employing you at a salary of §200 per month. If it should so happen that the bank didn't do any jumping as you made your application, you can console your self with tho reflection that it is about to bust.

But, speaking in all seriousness, my boy, if I had a dozen sons I should bo glad to have each and evory one of them take his turn at running away from homo. It is the best euro in tho world for that disease called

"swellhead." There's aheap of romancoi i the idea of running away. V.ou think of the sparkling sea, tho green prairies, coral strands, robbers' caves, and pirates' treasures. You feel that you know so much more than your father that it is a waste of brains for both of you to remain in the same house. You havo baen forced to go to school, and have been ordered to split wood, and go to the grocery after-butter like a common slave. Don't stand it any longer ! Pick up your duds and leave the house and go forth into tho world. What I Come to a full stop in the road before you are a milo away ! You've got a peck or more of sour meat and mouldy bread in a pillow case, Eovonteen cents in your pocket, and just think how your father and mother have misused you at home ! The romance begins to wear off, eh ? You don't care half as much about mer maids and palm groves and pirate ships as you did an hour ago. You hate to leave mother aftor all, and perhaps father isn't so much to blame for bossing you around. Come to think it all over, perhaps you'd better return homo and try and stand it for a fow moro weeks. Ah ! my son, but we'vo all been there ! All those wrinklod, and dignified, and bald headed old men you meet on tho streets

lmvo had about tho same experience. We'vo had that same period of " swell heud," and eight out of ten of us havo packed our bundles and slid out to escapo parental tyranny. Eight out of ton of us havo slipped back again, too, and the ox perienco was the right sort of medicine for the disease. Any time you coino to feol that you are a poor, ovor-worked, and down trodden boy, and that if you only had a tair show you'd know more in a minuto than your father does in an hour, just skip. Thero's nothing liko it.

A SCOTTISH BILL OF FARE.

The annual supper of tho Canterbury Caledonian Society to commomorate St. Andrew's Day and the return of tho Presi dent from his visit to tho Old Country was

held at Arenas, Cafe, Christchurch, on 4th December, and attended by about eighty members of the Society. The chair was occupied by the Vico-President, Mr H. A. Watt, who had Boated at his right hand the guest of tho evening, Mr Cunningham, and at his left Captain Kidley, of tho Coptic. Mr Campbell, also a Vico-Prendent and .Dr. Stewart were the Vico-Uiainnen. At tho head of tho room the Scottish Standard was unfurled, on Iho tablo near

tho Chairman was tho largo silver challenge cup presented by Messrs liillcoat and Co., and among those present were several members in costume. Tho bill o' fare was headed with the grace-

" Some hac moat an' canna Sttt, . An' some wad eat that want it; Bui wo hac meat, ar.il we can nat, An' sac tho Lord be tbaukit. First was "A hue o1 Hillooat's best,' which of course meant whisky, followed by "Saumon troois vvi' buttor bice") " Noo sato tho stately saumont sail, An1 troota bedropped wi' crimson ntul. And "Ao we drappic o' Milton-Duff." The "first coorse" comprised "NowtcV feet, tripe an' ingana, pottit heitl, minced eollops wi' a whecn enia' peas ;" second coorae, "Howtowdies bakit in an ashtt; jigot o mutton wi' curran' jeolie." Tho third coorse consisted of tho huegis, the dish of the evening, which was ushered in by the piper, tho lines selected for it reading— •• Ye, pow'rs wha niak mankind J-ere care An' difh them out their bill o faro, Anld Scotland wants nae akinking ware

Thatjaupsinlaggics; But iC ye wish her crate£u pray r, Gie her a haggis." This coorse was succeeded by " a half mutchkin among four," and there were also "tawties biled, chappit, andetovod, bashed necs, and green kail syne end up W» cheese, ait-farles, syboes, an' ithcr green meat, and then a houpie o1 Hillcoat.B.

THE TWO PROFESSORS.

(from "belgbavia.")

" Chablie ! You frighten me! What can have induced you to venture into this house ?"

" Venture! What do you mean ? I re ceived a note from your father inviting me to dinner. You may suppose I didn't spend much time in getting ready.» I just jumped into my dress clothes, and here I am." '' Oil, my doar boy, there is somo mistake. Where do you como from ? I thought you were in Scotland." "Not at all! Tho day after you loft I was telegraphed for to Diisseldorf, and only came back to-day." " Where are you putting up ?" "At Morrison's Private Hotel." " Oh, Charlie, not really ! How extraor dinary ! I see it all now. You are here by mistake." " Don't say that, darling. I thought it wns all right, and that you had told tho parents;" " Oh, no. I've never darod. Dotakoyour hand away, Charlie; go farthoroff—suppose anyone should come! Oh dear, oh dear, what shall we do "!" "Suppose you explained matters a little." "Tho invitation was not for you ; it was for a Professor Mullor just arrived from Bonn. You know Kitty is staying there, and she wrote to mamma to ask her to be civil to him. Look, hero is the letter :— " ' Dearest Mamma, —Our dear and in every- • respect - tO'bo - admired Professor M tiller is, to our great regret, about to leave us in order to bo present at a meeting of the " International Society of Geologists " to be hold in Loudon. He starts to-morrow, a weok boforo tho time, in order to familiarise himself beforehand with the language, for though ho reads and writes English marvellously well, ho finds a difficulty in speaking ; and, indeed, as all horo say, our mothod (or rather want of motliod) in pronunciation is simply bar barous.' "

" There, that'll do, Trixy dear. Don't read mo any more of that pompous rubbish. To think of a slater of yours boing such a prig'"

"She'squite young, poor little thing," said the elder sister of nineteen, " and has naturally fallen into the German way. She goes on to bog mamma to ask him to dinner."

"Of courso, I see it all now. Tho in vitation was for the geological specimen, tbo in-overy-rospoct-to-bo-admired Miillor from tho Vatorland, and my name being Miller, tho waiter at the hotel brought it to me. Nevermind, it's all right. I'll per sonate tho worthy Professor."

"Oh, but you can't. You'ro not a bit like one. You haven't oven a pair of spectacles,"

" Can't you rake out an eyeglass or some thing?" " Do be serious, Charlie dear ! Papa will be so awfully angry. You don't know what

he is ; ho will bo euro to find you out, and then things will be worso than ever." "Tho latter end will be worse than the beginning, you think. Not a bit of it! In fact, it can't bo. Already ho hates my very name, and won't have it mentioned before him; but personally he can't dislike mo, bocause he has never soen me. Now I will so ingratiate myself into his favour to night that ho will retract all his former errors."

"That is a thing ho never does. Ho prides himself upon never being mistaken in a first impression. My poor boy, all you say proves how little you know him." " Little, do you say ? I don't know him at all! am just on the point of making his acquaintance) thcugh to-night, for I mean to see this affair through to-night. Don't be afraid, I shall make a splendid Professor 1 So geology is his lino; that's stones, isn't it ? I know nothing about them, but that don't matter. I know something a great deal moro to the purpose, and that is, a few of your father's littlo weaknesses. Trust me for humouring them, that's all! I can eco how the mistake came about. It was ontirely your fault, you dear little " " Indeed it wasn't. I took groat pains to oxplain everything. I myself gavo tho letter to Thoinns to carry to tho hotel, and I enid particularly Mr Midler, the gentle man just arrived frmn Germany.' " Of course you did, and if your German accent had been a littlo worso, I should nnviy h/Lvn f»nfc.,the lotter. WJiv, mv doar child, tho waiter Knows nowuhjlf about accants and modified vowels, and all tho rest of it. M-u-I—Mul, 1-o-r—ler ; Mullor, to rhyme with sculler, don't you know?" "Hush, here comes papa; thoro's tho tap-tap of his stick. How you can dance about like that" (for Charlie was oxecuting a sorios of onorgetic pus senls on tho Jiearth rug) " irhen everything is so sorious, I can't imagine. I feel as if I should faint!" While Beatrico's father, tho Honourable Horatio Morryweather, ia slowly descending the stairs, we must explain matters a little. Charlie Miller was generally called Charlio Sherwood, his mother having married Captnin Sherwood about two years after her first husband's death. Lieut. Miller and Captain Shorwood had been creat friends, and when the forraor died, leaving a chaiming young widow of four-and-twenty, and a baby boy, Captain Sherwood thought it his duty to supply the husband's place. He had treutod his step eon as his own child, and few people sus pected that Charlio father's was dead, and that tho numerous brothers and sisters who adored him woro his relations only on his mothoi's side.

lie had met Beatrice Mcrrrweather at a country house in Scotland. The two young people had been a good deal thrown to gether. Beatrice was pretty, Charlie waa ardent) and they bocamo engaged. Now, Mr Merryweathor had a standing feud with tho Sherwood family about some ridiculous lawsuit. Tho disputed point was the boundary between two moors, and a great deal of bad money had beSn thrown away over a very little bad land. The very name of Sherwood was an abomination unto the Honourable Horatio: nobody dared mention it in hi 3 presence. The good gentleman was a terrible invalid; at least ho thought himself one, which is the same thing, only worso. Any excitement was said to bo bad for his nerves, any shock was said to bo bad for his heart. It may or may not have been so, but one thing was positively certain : any contradiction was

bad for his temper ! Mrs Merryweatbcr, a largo, warm-hoarted woman, with -no angles of mind or body, acted as a buffer between tho misorablo

hypochondriac and the outer world. How sho retained her genial, kindly nature, not to speak of her adipose tissue, was a marvel to all her acquaintances. Ono would have expected both to be worn away by the con stant wear and tear of her fretful husband's continual complaints. But Mrs Merry weather seemed to fatten on thorn, and to

grow sweeter and sweeter in proportion as hoy lord and master grow sourer and sourer. They had a- large family. Horatio, the eldest eon, was at Oxford, developing his muscles instead of his mind ; Bo&trico, the merriest maddest maiden of them all, was, as wo know, secretly engaged to Charlie Sherwood, or rather Charlie Miller ; Kitty, the next girl, was studying in Germany ; the rest wore good average children, but have nothing to do with our story. Mi- Mcrryweather, a tall, cadaverous in dividual, now entered the room leaning upon a stick. It was early in May, and the twilight was gathering ; but though the lamps wore lighted in the dining-room, the butler had not thought it necessary to light them in the drawing-roora. Mr Merry weather looked anxiously round for hi« visitor. He had never been abroad, and had a great prejudice against foreigners, so that Mrs Merryweather had had much difficulty in persuading him to invite the eminent professor of geology to his house. Thero stood Charlie, looking as if "the eternal feminine" was much more in his line than fossiliferous strata, &c. Mi- Merrywcuther was. an extremely punctilious man, and never omitted any conventional form cf politenesH. Ho was also very particular with regard to the ro finoments of tho toilette ; scrupulously nice and neat himself, he required others to be fcho same. Charlie's appearance theroForo impressed him very favourably. llq had expected to see a ragged-lookingindmdual with long hair and dubious linen ; one, mereover, who would wear the inevitable spectacles and huge square-toed boots of his kind. But tho clean, well-dreesed, well put-together young man before him was a very different affair. Mr Merryweather advanced with more cordiality: "I am glad to make your aquaintanco, sir," ho said aflably; my daughtor speaks of you in glowing terms. Tho spurious professor shook hands deferentially with his host, and then made a low bow .towards Beatrice. She turneJ away and pretended not to see. " How stupid he is," she thought, trembling with nervous apprehension ; "Papa means Kitty, of course " But her father had no suspicion 01 any thing wrong. ',He presumed the professor, naturally enough, was expecting an in troduction.

"Ah, yes. This is my eldeat daughter, Beatrice ; not quite so gifted as my daughter' Katherine. I am afraid you would find her sadly wanting, She is far behind your pupil." "I think I should be satisfied with the young lady," said Charlie, bowing again: a magnificent professorial salaam which Beatrice was obliged to return, looking intensely uncomfortable as she did so.

" You must forgive me if I do wrong—if I make a mistake—everything here is so new to mo," said Charlie slowly. • "Pray don't mention it," cried Mr Merryweather. He spoke quite eagerly for him : this quiet respectful manner was exactly the kind of silent flattery which tho malade imaginaire enjoyed. He went on : " I hope you will like England. You must consider us all quite at your command. I shall be happy, as far as my poor health will allow, to do anything to render your visit agreeable."

"Then the question is settled beforehand, lam certain to enjoy my visit in that case." Charlie spoko rather too fluently and en thusiastically for his role, and Beatrice, who was watching her father's countenance with an intensity of anxiety, saw a slight ex pression of surprise pass over it. The strain was too much for her; murmuring some pretext of finding her mother, she left the room.

Her absence was a relief to Charlio, who folt he could play his part more comfortably when she was not there.

" Did you havo a good passage, Mr " Splendid. That is—rather, what you call - rough—boisterous." Charlie's accent had become slightly Teutonic, and his worJa followed each other more slowly. " You know my daughter, I hear," "1 do, but I would like to know her better ; she has great qualities. All her friends love her—/love her." It was now Mr Merryweathor's turn to bow, which ho did with gratified paternal pride. The unusual warmth of tho expres sion he passed over as merely, tho natural mistake of a foreigner. He knew nothing of German, and very littlo of French ; still, he know enough to realiao the different ap plications of the verb " aimer;" no doubt the Gorman word was equally feeble. "I hope she profits by your lessons ?"

" Oh—ah—yes—but sho does not obey me yet. I hope she will some day." " Yea, yes j that will como. Girla are apt to bo wilful, you know ; but sho appre ciates your teaching, I cap assure you. Tho professor bowed. Thore was such safety and polite acquiescence in thatmovo mont, and ailonco would bo considered to proceed from ignoranco of tho language. It was so difficult to speak at all and not speak too woll.

Mr Morryweather began again. "I must apologise for the lateness of our dinner hour. I fear everything here will be dif ferent from your German customs. Ah ! here \a my wife." Mrs Merrywoathor shook hands warmly with the prepossessing German professor of goology. She could see better than her husband, and her maternal heart took alarm at his youth and good looks. "No wonder Kitty raves about him," she thought. "Dear, dear, I hope she won't be wanting to marry him ! Sho never mentioned his ago, certainly, but I took it for granted that a professor would be old. I'll never ask him to the house again, and really Kitty had botter como home. I'm afraid Germans are lax in their ideas of :

intercourse between toachera and pupils. A foroignor in the family would never do, and of course he's poor."

Beatrice now summoned up courage to return, supported by a brother, a young hobbledehoy about sixtoen, and a pretty slim sister who lookod very shy and re tiring. Mrs Morrywoather introduced them all, Charlie rising and making a fresh obeisance to Beatrice with polite gravity.

When dinner waa announced, Mr Merry^ weather rose quite briskly, and held put hie arm to his eldest daughter in a jesting manner. This proved that ho waa in high good humour; the young brother and sistor followed, Charlie brought up the rear with Mra Merryweather, "the main body," so to speak. Seen in the full light of the lamp, Charles certainly failed to come up to tho ideal of a profossor, and a feeling, half misgiving, half suspicion, crossed Mr Morryweathcr's mind. But it was very transitory; a much moro important subject engrossed his attention, namely, tho weighing and measuring'of his principal moal. A dainty pair of silver scales, and a small measuring ■"'"I <"cro?{)olFnlliv S'wi\c<Eiroi- fyou have given much attention to tho subject of food— scientifically, of course. lam of opinion, in common with many great and learned rainda of past generations, that the amount generally eaten by people, in health is greatly in excess of tho body's require ments."

Charlio bowed . acquiescence. Ho was conscious that his host talked much moro

like a professor than lie could, and lie was also well aware that nothing would stamp him so'successfully as a man of intelligence and mental culture in the cyos of tho

Honourable Horatio as the listening in ailonce to that gentleman's wordy exor diums.

" Indeed, poople in tho present gonera lion aro becoming alivo to the fact. A learned countryman of your own, Dr. Ebstoin by namo, and alao a gifted hdy writer in ono of our now periodicals, are ondoavouring to stem tho torrent of boozing and gluttony which threatens to engulf thia country. I strive to follow tho ex ample of the nsble Venetian, Cornaro, who preserved his health to one hundred years and upwards. He maintained his vigour, both mental and bodily, upon a diet which never exceeded twelve ounces of solid food and fourteen ounces of wine."

"Is that all you allow yourself, sir?" asked Charlio, with as good an imitation of v German accont aa he could manage, for his present audience, especially tho young hobbledehoy of sixtoen, disconcerted him. Mr Merry weather shook his head. "No," ho answered in a tone of deep rogret, "my rule is thirty ounces alto gether, but I often reduce it to twenty eight. I differ from Cornaro in tho propor tions, allowing myself less wine and more food. But this is sorry conversation for you, who aro young and have no doubt a healthy appotito. Do not let my abstinence, due in somo measure to my unfortunate health, deter you from making a good dinner. After the fatigues of your journey it would bo unwise to oxpect too much of your digestive powers, but no doubt thore has been wasto to be repaired. I hope our English viands mayI'tempt your palate."

Now Charlio required no tempting ; he was ravenously hungry,, and could have made a clean sweep of everything he saw before him, but Mr Meupveather's dislike to great eaters had long been confided to him by Beatrice. It was tho subject on which her father enlarged most frequently, with the one exception of tho boundary lawsuit.

So Charlio sat fasting alid silent, bowing at intervals to Mr Merry woathor, who, more and more enchanted with the deferential Profossor, laid down tho law moro dog matically than usual;. while liis trembling hands, white and delicate as a woman's, measured out his various ounces of bread, meat, and vegetables, arid his various table spoonfuls of whiaky and water. Mra Merryweather, on-the contrary, was quite distressed at her guest's want of ap petite, and kept prossing him to eat; but her husband silenced her by a majestic wavo of the hand.

" Savants, my dear Matilda," ho said gententiously, " know better than to weigh down the ctheroai substance—the intellect

—by grosa foeding, or to becloud the brain by indiscriminate drinking. They are more solicitous about mind than matter.>" Now, as Mra Merry weather's fat, round face was bent over her plate in undisguised appreciation of some delicious sweet, this seemed a sneer at her ovident enjoyment. Charlie began to repent the sacrifice ho had made, not on account of his own internal cravings, but for tho sake of his kindly hostess.

That worthy lady, however, did not trouble in tho least about her husband's re marks, continuing thoroughly to appreciate her dinner. In the silence which ensued tho young hopeful of sixteen volunteered a remark. "Perhaps you don't like what we've got, sir. Germans always eat sausages and dunk beer, don't they ?" There was an awful pause. The parents knew this was meant for an impertinence, but as the supposed Professor might really be fond of these dainties, they did not know what to say. ( harlie replied with cheerful condescen sion to the yonng gentleman, that in spite of the fact that both sausages and beer were highly appreciated in Germany, he did not like either.

But though he came successfully through these little episodes, Charlie felt the dinner a very trying business indeed. It was true that ho had made a very good impression on the invalid father, but the difficulty of supporting his assumed rulo unde"r the scrutiny of the younger members of the party waa almost more than he could endure. Would the time-never pass? He

felt sure he could manage Mr Merryweather even better alone. -I Beatrice felt equally anxious for the dinner to come to an end. She sat on thorns, eating little and saying less. At last Mrs Merryweather rose and led her young people to the drawing-room ; Charlie standing by the door and contriving to ex change a look of encouragement and a tiny squeeze of the hand with Beatrice as she went by. The young boy of sixteen had been dis missed by his father and had gone with the rest, to Charlie's unutterable relief. Left alone with his guest, Mr Merryweather plunged into the subject of the lawsuit. It was to him like the head of Charles I. was to Mr Dick :it came in everywhere. So in spite of his hearer being, as he supposed, a foreigner and ignorant of tho laws of this country, the Honourable Horatio began the

long history of his grievances. "And in the face of all that, sir," he concluded, "the decision has twice been given against me. "Sou see the absurd anomaly is that Scotch procedure ia differ ent to English. I suppose you know nothing of the Scotch law of Hypothec." Charlie could conscientiously answer he did not, "Well — well — it's a long history and slightly involved, and I won't enter into it all noiv. I fear the ladies will be expecting us. But you quite see the case, I'm sure." Charlie had listened very patiently and with a groat appearance of sympathy ; he could now declare with sincerity that if he had tho powor, Mr Merryweather should fix his own boundary to-morrow. Mr Merryweather was completely won. "My dear air," ho said, button-holing his guest as they rose from tho table, "for so young a man and for a stranger to this country, you have a most remarkable—yes, a most remarkable—grasp of facts. Your knowledge and command of our language is also very astonishing—the little accent you will soon lose—and I feel persuaded (and let me toll you I am very seldom deceived in first impressions) that a very fine career lies before you. I can always discover talent, whether in Englishman or foreigner."

Oppressed by these undeserved and pompous eulogiums, Cnarlie preceded his host into tho drawing-room. In order to escape further conversation he asked Beatrice for a song. Sho chose a duet, one they had often sung together in Scot land, and aeked him to join. It was a German Yolkslied, so the selec tion seemed graceful and appropriate to the visitor, and appropriate indeed it was ! Tho littlo ballad with its simple music is well known. As the young people were carolling this with much fervour of expression, an unex pected interruption occurred. The servant suddenly flung open the door, after the manner of his kind, announcing in a loud voice Professor Miller. An explosion of dynamite could scarcely have been more startling. Everyone not in the secret looked naturally Beatrice turned as white as a sheet, and even Charlie lost colour and assurance. The newcomer was an enormous person, tall and bulky. His hair, which was brushed straight back from his forehead, hung about his shoulders like a mane ; his beard, which was long and untrimmed, covered his ample chest; the soiled and crumpled wristbands alone gave evidence of the existence ot a shirt.

This waR precisely tho typo of individual which Mr Merryweather most loathed. He looked upon 6uch people as utter bar barians ;'. wild unkempt men of the woods, to be relegated to thoir native forests. As

he rose slowly and confronted the new arrival, Landseor's picture of " High Life and Low Life" came involuntarily to Charlie's mind.

But the cheery foreigner was not rebuffed by the attitude and expression of the Englishman, "I come for to present my respect. Mies Kitty she gif ze address of her fader and moder, and beg me to call and gif zis leedel bagged:" and the burly German fumbled in his pocket for the little packet in question.

" What does this mean ?" asked Mr Merryweather, turning to Charlie. His tone waa not angry or auspicious, but helpless bewildered; hs looked to his pleaaant acquaintance to help him out of tho diffi culty.

1' Thore has boon a mistake," said Charlie, "and I think I can explain everything; but I beg to say I came to dinner by in vitation," and ho got out the little note

from his pockot. iisr4fii%ra;e&ft£V.siy noUako it ; : h 0 was versation going on between his wife and the Gorman.

Thore waa no doubt as to this being^ the genuine Professor of Geology; his bulging pockets wore full of geological specimens— dirty, dusty stones, which he laid on the Indian table-cloth without compunction as he still searched for the "leedgl bagged ;" then his hammer fell out and nearly smashed a valrivble Kaga ware bowl. There could not havo been a more apt illustration of the proverb about a bull in a china Bhop. As he rummaged about ho was answerine; Mra Merryweathor's hospitable offers of re freshment in tho most exocrable Engliaji.

" Ach, noin, gracious lady ! I can every thing in tho hotel become I pray you, trouble not yourself wid ze tea; or, a glass beer, a leedle wiirst, vat you call zauzago " "My dear Matilda," interrupted Mr Merryweather impatiently, "you will give orders for those—ahem—those refreshments to be sorvod in the dining-room." Professor Mttller looked puzzled andalittle distressed at the tone and manner j he saw at last something was wrong. He had inontionsd the beor and sausage, hot from any excessive relish of those articles of diet, but simply and solely because he thought it would give the housewife less trouble to pro vide them. His ideas of household economy werenaturallyGorman; he had noconeoption of the powor and sway of the British cook, and the subordinate part of a lady in the upper classes of English society plays with regard to that omnipotent menial. Meanwhile Charlie and Beatrice bad come forward and were standing each side of Mr- Merry weather. They had been confabula ting, and had decided to strike while the iron was hot. No moment could be "■ so propitious as now, when tho.huge untidy Gorman was thero to mako a foil to Charlie's noat prcpossoesing appearance. So the latter began : "Allow me, sir, to explain ali this, and why you have two visitors in stead of ono. This invitation to dinner was brought to me at my hotel a and I came, only too dolighted to make your acquaint ance. I did not know till I arrived at your house that tho invitation was intendod for another. Tho situation waa awkward, but

[ could not resist taking advant-ago of the opportunity which chance threw in my way to become acquainted with Beatrice's father. I met your daughter in Scotland, and loved her at first sight. If you will only give your consent to our marriage, I will do my utmost to make her happy. My namo is Charlie Miller, but you havo hither to always heard me spoken of as Charlie Shorwood, stopson of your neighbour in the uorth. Let mo assure you, sir, that«s far as the question of tho boundary is con cerned, I will do all in my powers—-" " Really," interrupted Mr Merryweather, "all this is very strange—very unexpected. I don't approve of your conduct—coming to my houso under false protences ; two pro fossors " —(tho Honourable Horatio looked across at his German guest with ineffable disgust); "both my daughters, Beatrice and Kitty, involved—l can't understand it. Thi3 confusion is too much for my shattered nerve?. • You must- excuse me. : I will retire."

And Mr Merrywoather took himself off to bed—tap-tapping alon" with his stick in a very feeble manner. Charlie held the door open for him, and waa rewarded by a courteous bow : Professor Miiller was quite ignored.

" Oh, it's all right," whispered Beatrice rapturously; "I know papa's ways so well. Ho'll never like to alludo to this evening again, but having once liked you, he'll always Hkd you. I am thankful for the mistake in the name ! You' would never have managed to know him without that." The genuine Professor meanwhile was holding forth to Mrs Merryweather and her younger children. And hero let it at once bo said that the big German was a kindly, as well as a clever, man. Handsome withal, though not after tho finikin pattern of London loungers. He laughed heartily at the mistake that had amen, which Charlie hastily explained to him in German, while Beatrice revoaled her engagement to Her astonished but indulgent mother. " Well, dear," said the kind, comfortable lady, "I am sure be ia a very nice-looking young follow, and if he can really arrange that fearful lawsuit about the boundary, I'll thank him on my bended knees. No one can tell what I'vo suffered from that, nor the money your poor father has spent. Now let us go into the dining-room. The Professor's supper is ready. . Before Dr. Miiller left that evening ho had quite won the hearts of his hearers. In spite of his grotesque accent and his want of cleanliness, iv spite of his ignorance of conventionalities, he impressed them all with a sense of his genuine worth. What

were the curled darlings of society, lisping the small talk of the day, compared to this genial giant? They all felt that the lion like man with his streaming hair and dusty paws was worth a hundred empty-headed " mashers." He told them anecdotes which kept them in roars of laughter, partly on account of the real fun in them, ■ partly on account of the queer expressions he used in their relation. He gave them news of Kitty in the most affectionate manner, but as in the same breath he spoke of his wife and children, Mrs Merryweather's anxieties were allayed. As to Charlie and Beatrice, they were radiant. It was a delightful e/ening to all concerned. The fortunate result of the mistake in the name caused Charlie at once and for over to renounce the appellation of Sherwood, and (when once Mr Merry weather should have been won over, which Beatrice declared was certain) to hurry on as much as possible the happy day when both he and Beatrice will share the surname of Miller.

HORRIBLE SYDNEY.

The " Sydney Morning Herald," referring to the present outbreak of small-pox, makes some unsavoury revelations of the horribly dirty and insanitary condition of many parts of Sydney. It says :—

"It is much to be feared that our im munity hitberja from any serious wide spread visitation of epidemic or disease has lulled us into a false sense of security. Abuses have sprung up in our midst which may precipitate upon us the evil from which we have come to regard ourselves as secure. A visit to some of tho localities where the recent cases of small-pox have occurred cannot fail to impress the visitor with an opinion that unless a very radical change is effected in the sanitary state of the crowded parts of the city, we will be visited at no very remote time with a terrible punishment for our neglect such as no human skill can hope to avert before many lives have been sacrificed. The man or woman whose walks are confined to the wide cleany streets, and whose eyes see only the well kept fronts of rows of houses, has no idea of the filth and squalor of the lanes and allies in'which men, women, and children are crammed 'like salted fish in their barrel.' The filth one finds in such places is not so much the result of poverty as of that tendency among the people to live dirtily, not because cleanliness or order are costly things, but because dirt and disorder are regarded as natural surroundings. In the filthiest lanes one finds amidst garbage rotting in the mud such evidence of 'good living' as the cans which have held pre served meats, ale-bottles, sauce bottles, then as evidence of wastefulness, pieces of bread, bones with the meat but half cut from them, and many other articles, which, in cities less prosperous than this, would have been used to the hat fragment. Here plenteousness and filth appear to go hand in hand., The slattern woman, with dirty gown and towzled hair, fares on the best meats, and would not think of taking her dinner without her pint of beer. The rooms of the houses ef this class present equally strange contrasts. In one room you may find abundance of good furniture, greased and foul smelling, the floor half esvered with frowsy carpet, and, where the bare boards are exposed,, black and shiny with the accumulated dirt of months. From the back door you look out on a yard literally 'not big enough to swing a cat in.' In one corner of it is a closet, in another a pile of rubbish, composed of rotting! pieces ot wood, old canvas, tin, and a topping of decayed potato peelings and cabbage leaves. Such are hundreds of the homes packed in terraces and rows in the thickly populated parts of the city.'! - :: Proceeding to describe a visit paid to the localities where funall-pox had broken out, out contemporary says:—" Here is a house iv a somewhat pretentious terrace. A policeman paces up and down the pave ment in front of it, and on the door is posted a yellow placard bearing in black letters the following words : ' This house is infected with small-pox. The public are cautioned against approaching it.: Any person so doing will incur the danger of infection.' Leaving the front of the premises, a visit is paid to the back; here again one finds a policeman, and more placards are pasted up. The entrance is from a lane, whose gutters are filled with greasy dirty water. The yard of the house from which the inmates have been removed ift VPj^Rtate-of filth afld.djgordertjrith j>Ues old tub with dirty clothes in a tumbledown shed, and with fragments of rag, Vegetables, and other rubbish strewn about. The yard is asphalted, but. the water has gathered here and there in pools in the worn places.. The yard next to it is much the same. Looking on the lane is a row of small houses, whose back yards extend to the, dividing .wall between them and the infected houses. The yards of these houses are about nine feet square, and in one corner, .within six feet of the back door—where a dilapidated looking fellow is binding up hk .braised foot—is the water-closet, whose odour fills the stuffy little room, where dirty tea-cups, beer bottles, and babies are mixed in con fusion. The next infected house is/several streets away; it is the end one of a small twe-story terrace, and is next a green grocery shop. Herethe yard is larger, and some attempt has been made to keep it clean. The lane at the back of this place is just wide enough to permit a cart to pass along.. It is on either side margined by what was a paling fence, but .what is now, virtually a fence without palings. Along tho line are closets in various states of dirt and stench. The lane itself is a puddle, with all sorts of garbage, including a rat and other decomposing matter scattered about. The constable states the stench in this place on a warm day is abominable, '~. ' 'A few streets further away the next house is reached. Here iron-railing has been placed across the foothpath; and insido the house a couple of men are engaged fumi gating the rooms with sulphur. The yard of this house is cleanly, and the neighbours cay the people were cleanly and used plenty of carbolic acid about the place. The houses here are crowded on', top' <?f < one another, and in the bdek premises ■ eyeryf one soes everyone cko's business, The ground slopes a little, and pipes aro carried under the houses to take off the drainage into the street gutter/ The sink where the. pipe enters the yard is, no doubt, in the majority of cases, made tho receptae'e for all tho suds and slush about the houses, and thus emptying into the gutter is carried along it to the entrance to the sewer at the cornerl of the.street.' The next infected house is some-distance away. 'There is; some difficulty in' reaching the back yard, and a neighbour ;is interviewed. 1 That yard,' says she, pointing to one ad joining* that of the infected house, *is simply awful. All.jthe winter it is covered with green, stagnant'water.' 'Afterclimb ing a fence or two the- back yard of the house itself is reached. It is absolutely a mass oi rubbish, with an avenue cut through it. A couple of boxes, piled one on1 the other, hold,a collection of dirty pots and pans, A broken-down shed is ..stuffed with a miscellaneous collection of rubbish, an old torn pillow with the feathers soaking in the mud, a sheepskin, what appears to be tho remnant of a dish of beans, old mouldy timber, and any quantity of tins and old bag?, make up as motley a col-, lection as could be crowded into such a space. And in the midst of all this rubbish and its musty sickly stench is a scarlet geranium in a tin can.. The flower is in full bloom/and its brilliant blossom and green leaves are conspicuous against the rags and rottenness that, surround it. Such are some of the dirt spots in the c ty, and looking at them one realises how terrible would be the visitation were disease but to become firmly rooted in their midst. " A correspondent writing upon the sub ject of tho carelessness of the municipal authorities with regard to tha sanitary con dition of Sydney, cays: 'For instance, at the lower 011,1! of Palmer street there is a piece of vacant ground on which all sorts of rubbish, e'eud cats, rats, &c.,' are deposited, and the footpaths are a chain'of stagnant water . puddles, strewn with filth and rubbish. This has been the case, for the last two yoars to my own knowledge.'"

Religions of France.

It is stated that the number of Protestants iii France is at prebent 580,000, of whom 350,000 belong to the Reformed Church, 50,000 are Evangelicans, and 180,000 are divided between Independents, Methodists, Baptist*, etc. Comparing the figures with the general population.itappears that there is in France one Protestant to every sixty three Catholics. The State pays 782 Pro testant pastors, although the total number of the latter is as high as 906, of whom by far the greater number (G99) belong to the Informed Church. Paris cotfnta 40,000 Protestants of all sects, and no less than iA buildings devoted to Protestant services. It has been reckoned that, counting the subsidy paid to the p-islora, each Protestant costs the State 50 cente and each Catholic only 25 cents.—" Brooklyn Eagle." '

Another Han's Telephone.

By the Authob of "A Bad Boy's Diary."

Whiss — busa—whir-r-r —rattle—bang— wJiir-r ! Bother those telephones! they al ways make me jump when I'm not expect ing them to go off. One of 'em went off this morning, about eleven o'clock, in the little business office of a certain merchant. I sha'n't tell you whether it was in Kalama zoo or Peoria, or where it was, but I ex pected to get a liberal order from him; he hadn't come in yet, and I was waiting in the little cubby-hole partitioned off for his private room 5 the clerks wondered why he was so late, and I was losing valuable time trying to read the morning paper, when I jumped half out of the merchant's leather easy-chair to hear that thing go off right behind my left ear.

" Burr—whirr—bur-r—whir-r-r !" I wished the man would come. It seemed < to me'he was too aristocratic as to his hours , for a Western fcnrn. "Whiss-fiss!" " I'll settle the whole thing myaelf," said I, springing up, "I'll just let 'em know Crackle s out," so I hollered: " Hello!" and a faint, sweot voice, like New Orleans sirup gurgling out of a barrel, responded: "Hello!" The preliminaries thus arranged, the far-away voice went on to inquire—" is that you, Darius!" .. . Now, a drummer who had no cheek would be worth his weight in gold for a side-show ; it was an awfully dull morning; 11 remembered that Darius Crackle's and my voice, were much alike, only he had a slight lisp; so, without an instant's hesitation, I responded: ■ ■■■ ■ " Yetb, I am Dariuth."

" Are you really going to give me that sleigh-ride this evening ? I want to-know, so's to be ready." : ■ ■.< " Thertainly, my angel." " You won t let your wife know, will you 1" , -..;■.

" Let my wife know ! What do you take me for ? Why thiveotest, you know this ish the night our lodge meets. That ith a good excuth, you tsee; , " Well, dear, I'll be ready. You'll lend me one of those lovely sealskins out of your store, so I won't be cold ?"

"Thertainly, thertainly! I'll thee you don't freesth." ~ • . "And—Darius!" , ; "Hello! 11 ] " You'll bring along a pound of chocolate drops !" , „■.!. " Thertainly. On, yeth." "Well—good-bye. 11;. s : "Good-bye, thwcetheart." ~■ ;... ;> I returned to my paper, and still Crackle arrived not. , V • , ■

Whirr—buss—bußS—fur—r—r! ,r., , Well, it's sort of; interesting, when you have nothing better on hand, so lup and "Hello t" again; and a grcff voice, like that of a Newfoundland dog, with a cold, shouts back— ! ■ '': JTi" : "Hello! is that you, Crackle V '-• - • ."Whoelthwoulditber : " Any them cle»ks in the office V ■ "Not a thoul but mytholf." ■ . •« I did that little job las 1 night.1' ••Youdid!" :; ;■_■'!■ .--:;-'' ; -: " I managed j is' as you -tol1 me—waited on the dark corner an' hit him a crack on the head with a crowbar—knocked him stonodead." ■ ! " ; : ■ " Stone dead I" ; - ' ':■> Il***/'"'

" Yon bet. Nobuddy seen me; It can't never be proved on you. orj me. I'll be round for -the spondulicks you promised meby'm-hy."' •'':''■' ■• ..• I I trembled slightly as I sat down to tho paper again; in fact, I felt cold and horrified—l had just read, in the morning daily, that a man had been found on Wash' ington-street, with' a wound on his ; head, but the surgeon couldn't say whether it had been made by a Bharp instrument, or by a fall on a slippery side-walk, and hitting his head on the ■ curb-stone;- 'What eort;ota fellow was this Crackle, anyhow ? • ' '"' •* He ' seemed ■ a good-natured, generous hearted fellow, as ever lived-; and lie had, on1 the_ previous'■ day, rinvite<r me'to'-.dine with him at six o'clock'thiS/veryiaftOThobii. Ting-a-ling-^barr^-whlr-r-r! .xiiifxsa >>»

I guess I'was 'actually1 pale when I' J-M«A ( , T^. U^ ;- ■- ••'.:...■. ..^ ■' ;. ■ ! have sent upttf the'house for dinnerr—xw ™t most anything you ask for rb^day1." ' F drew my- breath more "freely and* began td' scratch my head. "If I've got to order my own dinner I'll not be stingy," 1 thought. "Oystherson the'half-sbeU~ iii"i ■'■'• ] "Allright,sir/1 J '■'' '-"'•'''■ ," J'iANo. lsoupbone.1' '■■ - * ; '-' "Allright."- -: ■■-"•'' 4"'" / ;;' " :;; rl; f Potter, south roasts, ten poundth." 'A Got a beauty, Mt Crackle j wo* "6xt ?" ' \ "A fine young hen turkey, ifyotf-have1' ,[(;,«, .; ~. ',[■■: r ;■_;-,,.',: t.i -.-I' ■■.- .. ■■■■*. i-. ■■■ t ?'I havajus'-wotfllsuit you, 6ir.—wwfWe me, that's good i, • '-:i' j ; "And a dozen quftil?'- '!' • ! '.'•■: ' " Yes, sir; What nekt ?" J '". '"A few thweetbreatfth¥.' At all, ;T gueth."-: •■■' ■■ " \- '.-■ '''"■' '■'■-■ ' '■ "I'll send'em right up. G6odbye." •: '' Good-bye,' a long gMd-bye'.!'^'''' s. , i I had otderedalavish dirinerj;^nd was pacing up and down the cramped confines of the Office Wondering'if, after all, I should venture to partake or it With a person who had had a man brtiined as carelessly as he*1 Would a calf j when that 'confotindeW thing; went off again. '', \ ' V ; Having already put my foot in it, I thought I might as well die for an old 'sheep as a lamb, so I marched, to the instrument-^a; woman's voiceagaini -riot so Sugary'ob^the' flrstjjußt a trifle Bharp. ; "Hello, Darius, is that youf" :i "Hello, yourthelf. Of courthifth nie." "I hope to Heaven youhavn'tasked that New York drummer to dinner this evening!'' ':" Alath ! I have l ; TjVhy, ,>rha|tlj Ihe, matter?" '■>"',' \ '' ";".■ ' ~,i -^-^ . " Matter'matter enough ! CookVgpther, batk up an' left,;,there> nothing in the house but the rest of that boiled leg of i mutton—and iVe told \ yoii, over an', over, Darius;'those ;drummers" aren't jiist "the kind of society we oughter, keep,, now Rose, EvangelineVgrdwri up into such, a hand some girl. VS^qught.to know^who's who, before we invite him into our'house., We can't be too particular'l If you've gone an'; iwked thit druninier, :l sna'n'fc. .Jotßoae Kvangeline'come down at all—an'l'll have cold sliced mutton, potatoes, canned toma tuses, an" apple pie for dihner,: See if \I /[ don't! I never knew_ one o' those drummers yet who wasn't sweet on a handsome girl with money. My' daughter isn't going to i marry a New-Yprk drummer." v i, ".But thithorieith jutnttoo modethtand thweet for anything.' He's engaged, he telths me—wouldn't look at a Westhern cirl if she had a while bonnantha,;' I've thent up thupphitli-r-coffie, Wife, get, up ' the riitheit dinner you kri^w how. I want to show him we 'v^ethstern folkths know whath what. , Have those raw pystertb packed in ithe for the first courth, with & bottle of that Thinthinriati Burgundy; thend'out.an' got a liiko thalraoh, an' have it biled With egg; then We'lVjhave thoso thweetbreads therfed ath an eritray. ' Oh, you iusth get up a big dinner that'll make his mouth water,1 won't you, wife, to pleath me'?";" ,:'' ,: ", ,';,' I;/,'', ,','.■ '■'.-■ ■', ' " S'pose I've got to." .; '. 'i. \ "Thankths. An' I'll pretend I hadn't thont you any wordi ;you thee, an' he'll think it's only bur evefy-day grub, an' he'll be thurprised at the style we put on. By-, bye." - ..." "Iresume my paperi Whirr-in^buzz-zz, whirr! • . "Hello!" ; "Hello!" -' _- ~ :. '; ■,' ::"■. •f That you, papa'" ," -"You'bet! fl ! ■-'■"' ■■■■"■■..'•' "; ".: ;.?,£.£.'■ "Be sure to bring the New York drummer, papa. I'll be at the diniug table, never fear. '" '. j■;: ;", " All.right, my pets" :\,,J " Don't notice if my eyes look like I a beet crying, papa. Bobistfead. ,He^ found dead on the stTeet -knocked in the head. I'll nover have another beau that 11 love me like Bob. Oh, pa, my heart is broken; but if that drummer ishalf as good-looking, bring him along, pa. By-by,' ,'; I had just time to appear to be intereßtea in the newspaper when my merchant came in. Ho had a guilty look. I Was sure of that. He saidhis hand 'trembled with the cold; but I thought to myself if that was the way fathers got rid ■of niiWelconif suitors—hiring a wretch to knock them'ii the head, I was glad I did not live in that town ! I gave a glance at the name of the poor fellow- who was found "unconscious—• Robert Jones; just as I expected, poor Bob ! However, business, is business, and I went on with mine with? this whitod Sepulchre, who took women out flleigh-rlding, hired ob noxious lovers, assassinated, and so forth, just if he was an honest man. After I-had gotten a $50© order out; of him, I went to another place, but I stopped at ■noon again and ihyited Crackle to lunch nitfa'-ts&^l

didn't want him to go home, you see. I wanted to surprise' him with a good dinner. "By the way," says he, looking em barrassed, as we left the restaurant, "I for got all about telling my wife I had invited company to dinner. Our cook went off this morning, tho yon will have to put up with pot luck." :;, : • ■;; '' Don't think of it, Crackle; if there's any kind of a dincer sure to suit my taste, it's a pot-luck dinner." ■: .; ' l . -■ .'•■■' ■'■'£ I called at his store at half-past five, and, we went to his house together.' Well, you' better believe he opened his eyes when we went into the dining-room—l don't think Delmonico ever served a finer dinner. As course arter course came on he began to put ■ on airs. l ..,•-»

"I'm thorry we can't do better tor you," { he says, complacently, " but our cook left us thith morning, and I forgot to tell wife I' wath going to bring home a vithitor. If Ihad i thought to speak to my caterer we might > have nad more of a spread." . " More of a dinner than this!" • '■'■"■■'■•■-'■>

"Oh, yeth, thith is only our wash-day.,; dinner," . : >", (h My eyes happened to meet those of Miss Cackle—a perfect witch 6i a girl, about' nineteen, pretty as a picture,, and full of fun; I don't know what my eyes said, but she began to laugh. I thought it was heart less of her, so I aaked, abruptly : \iiav* "Whoisßob?" - . .-/..

"Oh, poor, poor little Bob! He is, or was, my little Spitz. He was found dead this morning, and, if pa would own up, I ■ believe he knows how it happened. Me: was always afraid Bob would bite me and I would go mad." . , ...■.,',- :■-'',■ ■ <:Oh-h!' By, the way, Crackle," im politely taking out my watch as the quail came on, "it is five minutes past the hour appointed for your sleigh-ride; hadn't you ■ better go? I will excuse you.* , - . f .u'-<i " My thlayrido ?" "'Vyell, ye«i. I don't know as you'll for give me, Crackle, but I'll own up and rm., the 1 isk. Before you came in this morning, your telephone kept calling. 'I had-tio thinetodo so I answered it. You know.? we drummers are great fellows for practical jokes." : • ' ''"'''.

"Was it you answered meV' asked Mjsa ' Crackle, blushing like a damask rose," ; ', ''' f ' "Was it you answered met' stammered' Mrs Crackle, looking as if she would eink . through the floor. '. • ! ,^'.'[ "Yes, madam; and as you said you had, nothing bat cold mutton in the house and ; the butcher called for orders, I just thought I would tell him what to send up. I'm awful sorry, Crackle, I- didn't hit -off ijour,. taste better ! I thought I was ordering a first-rate dinner, but you call it a wash-day affair." v'■: ' './'■'- '■;'■':: : '■' \ r Ji

" Never mind the dinnoi-," says the lady,' ,' flashing a lightning look at her husband. . " Tell me the name of the woman ha agreed . to take out sleign-riding. 11 ; „ .. : :"C "It was Aunt Jeruefia, I suppose," says , Crackle, trying to laugh. , , , .., I "I etiess it must hsive been,",:say>l>!~ | " for she told you hot to forget to bring £j I pound of candy; but I've made up my mind : never to answer another man's telephone . ' again—it's awkward. ' *' '. j

"To Be Shot Dead at Six.

A tebbible example has been made in Ton- ■ gain. 'One of the special correspondents •Bt-' r ! tached to the expedition now in the field wa» ; Camillo Farcy, weir known as a brilliant ; ' writer. ; He Haii' long' been 'connected ytjfoi ■'

■ "LaFrance," one of the leading journals. Thearmy which he was de'feiledtoacroinpapy " wasthat of Gen.;Forgomol. The officer. U a>u martinet, and entertains the most rigid ideas : regardin^dispiplirie ; , ,Bfewrptheex]^iJitio'ti»ri 1 ary force landed, bo, in conjunction with' i Gen. Vincendon, concocted the folldwingf* pledge, which all journalists were,obliged" to.sign:-. f p ■,•*:•■.*. •>-•» ;:, ,'■■;<" r.v>* • : t-*-V^—.prbmifleupon my honour, totrana- ! m itno i nf ormatlon whatever, elther"by telegraphY ormail, or by any other means, wl thont first ha v- " Ing submitted my nianusoript to the officer com- . mandinKsuchexpcdition.or tosuch officer or of-, ■ fleers as he may aelegate that power to. I fur- * ther [agree that any failure to keep this pledge "' will expose me to the rigorns of martial law. ■ •-. ■■ ' h

. ThW document was 'Signed ty all the.<B)r-^; respondents . attached .'tq^iha 'expedition; ],,...": When Farcy's'tarn caino, he took thepen* ' but'ifc'was with evident reluctance that tie•"*-.' signed!. When He had done so he, raid Co/ Fbrgemol:' '■'■'".' —'ffiftP.'&al.-I-jiign this document only be-" . out doing so jrcannoTrinini~my, fluty"flßTf~~ correspondent; Jjecanse, t without doing, so,; j I could not accompany'the expedition Bu(/.,, I Warn y6,uj iix; thatrtshall jßpeak tlie 'jtjuihV . thewhotetrnth, ami n'obfiing butthS tojiiili^^; touching '"matterß ifiS'-nm^'-'dpHje ppdeVi^* ■ rayobaervatioiu" ' Andwithadefianljglance. ;j at the General, Camille withdrew. , ,*,.] T, The old general gnaVed his grizzledinoua-ij,{ *,■ tache to conceal hisVwrath.} He did what '.' r * perl'aps most men' wonM haVe : dpne—he pet',,! s a spy to'dog the footsteps i»f .I'aroyL J.^ VfJ.*V\ The expedient" Was sucoesaful; " Two' " evenings after the spy' defected, the. jour,-., .^ nalistjunnder i:la 'dfegtiisfe, qWttitig 'the^ ■-. camp. Hefpllowed,andSavrhimdepoait.a u3 large eavelope in one. of theiiiiripr'^st;'^ offices upon the frontier! ,He Was at «fcce'j._ arrested and conducted to Forgomol'a head;, : quarters. ; '•'■'-"[" ''"'o ■' ■■•'•_ "■;:■■ -:'"' jL;' t , "Aha l"said the General, "at it alr6ady^^ my "fine fellow?- Well, what bave'wehere ? ' and he seized and broke open the envalorje/ ~ } ", Hutri '-td addressed to •* La Franbd'. jfvi-: ,• iJefatly' ''80016 ebrres)pdridende . wlioh ypiij"^ jweresendingwithbutmy^knpwledge." f -., r, f j, , VTWJ 'Geberal,*'-Bald -Farey1 calraly. !' ': *! *' Let us see -what it is^' said Fp^gembi, '?■ as he began -td peruse the |letter. '■ " General," said Karoy, coldly,' "permifc ;.J me ttt reniinld yotf that you are violating**' private corres^iohaenee'. "'-,',■' f "Private; correspondenoe? Bab I" (^e^fj tortedrorgemol. *'' Very•private,' indeed til" All: Paris would know it anptfaerday,'' and;: '4 he resumed bid reading. 1 There were some severe strictures in the ,!' letter upon the conduct of tho daiiipalgns;■•;,^ Forgemol's reading was interrnp^edlwJojrtHfc'^, and "tvhen he finished he was piirpla^ith"', - <r :>»■••' e»f| :'" - ■■ \ :Tt ■"'aJv • I "So,".Ba|d he; grimly, "yott'*<!ojWdw!,,jj ybUTSeif: comjietent; to judge of the dperli-" tipns of a, General' in the, field, :d6,;you ? ."^ Well; afav ito^ shall, have a tasto of t-.njaAial*l. -law toadd >tdyour knowledge of military;* affairs." . ' -A ' Farcy disdained to'defend himgelf.^;A','x court-martial was immßdiately convened. ~'. Its proceedings were Buinmary—itesentence?.! short;""^!amme Far'cvis bbndemned.tQjrel:'^ Bhofcat'aixin,the'morning,"' ' ''V - . It'Vftg then midnight..' 'The doomed ina.n'" •" waa-placed'in charge of a lieutenant and ( a :j squad bf soldiers; put ,upbn a Bpe|oial'traJ(^,',:T: and ivas borne switUy into' the capital city," .'„ : where'tiie execution^'ivasto take pla'oei,;. ,T£ At half-past five the train dashed into the'"". city. It passed under the waljs of the 'paiace'wliere: Albeft Grevy; thi'wdvernpr- ; ," General, lives in atat*^- The windbwa were j;.; brightly lighteßi'and the attains of ■' a wiiltz" ' were borne to the ears of the prisoner. VThs.J Governor was giving a ball.'» *' J !'- '"*""_,' , ; "You have half an hour in which to pre- f\ ■ pare- for! death;'1 said' the' lieutenant, bom- •'•" passionately. ''Wbuld'yonykbtohavb'm6r^ sendfor'a'pjriesb?" :■-■' ''■'■■,■ , ', • i'fli.suppose'i" saidl Fairey, -"you wiU'' granfmy'fastrequest!'* :: ' " ■; ' .; . ;"Yes.'^!'"'■'■'!•. ■'i:'{-«-t'-iil '•■• ''. '/''.j'^'':^": ' "Then let me go to the ball. I w6uld_!t like to?haveia waltz before I iW" ■''" j;',' The officer:bowed, and repaired to M.*^. Grevy'spalace. ; ''■ ;' . ' '': - I" His request shall be'granted,!' said the;S President'sbrother. ;",Who cbuld refuse a. .^ flying man's requesi V • Bring him here; ho f'.' shall dance with my daughter." ; And it was dphe. The last momenta; of , his life were spent on a ball-roonj fl6or. A.t 6' o'clock the officer spoke:," Thefile, ;^ is waiting," said he.. ' • .. ■..'■; "Let us go," said Farcy. He samtea;^. the dancers ancT withdrew; whin ho;"; reached ->the ground where the file' was /. waiting'hinii he refused to'allow his eyes to . j be bandaged, and demanded permission to give the Word of command. '~' ':, ,; ■ 1" May all journalists do as I have dbne,";. . gaid he; r "it is their s 4nty." ,Xhepj;.folc|",..:' ing his arms, ho cried : ' -'■;;' ' :' !. *' j:!; .- '"Fire!" '- ':' ' -' ■ .- ' ' " \ ~■ d The craßh of the muskets rang pufi. thi? '..\ t morning air1. . Camille Farcy " fell 4eod, \ "* pierced with balls. ; ;-. ~; 1 ;The vengeance af Geii. ForgemOl ,Svas .* accomplißhedi—"Paris Figarp.'r ; , 0 4 *

THE AUCKLAND EVENING STAR, SATURDAY, DECEMBER 20, 1884

3



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DON'T DIE IN THE HOTOE^."iaoih mß»ta«, "*: tan out r«U mil* tKtta, WMhM, yd-boji, Ola, tuU, towcti/- Good Words—From Good Anr&osrrft-^, ' • • • We confess that wo are porfectly amazed ■ at the ran of your Hop Bitters. ; We never had m anythlnK like it, and never heard ot the like. , The writer (Bonton) baa been soiling drags here' i. nearly thirty years, any lias • reen the rise of • \ Hostettor's Vinegar and all other bittfrs and * patent medicluca, bat never did any ot them, in i a tholr best dam btgin to hare tho run that Hop,' :- Bitters hareT • : We can't get onough of them. **J We are out c£ them half tho time. • • "Extract :■ (rom letter la Hop Bitters Co-nAngflSt jB, ,18. « » from Bbntok, Myers fc Co.. Wholesale Drug- M glfita, Cleveland, 0. Be sure and tea, ;