"HAND AND RING."

CHAPTER XXXV. TOO AND CON. Hamlet.—Do you sco yonder cloud that's almost in shape of a camel.' ,?n' ( j"V By tho mas3' ""d ' tis like a camul Ai»n/c(—Mcthinka il is liku h weasel. Polonius.—lt is back'd Uku a weasel. —Hamlet. Shoktly after tho adjournment of court, Mr Ferris summoned the two detectives to his ollicc. "Wo have a serious question before us to decide," said ho. " Are wo to go on with tho prosecution or are wo to stop ? I should liku to hoar your views on tho sub ject." Hickory was, as usual, tho first t* "I should say stop/ ho <«•' •■>*?©*«. fresh applicant for tho ' - <<xt- "This slain the Widow Cleir. -•«"'?«»• tof having ing at least." -aQtoj deserves a hear " But," hu>-' , don't givr .'<«U,V interposed Byrd, " you if you ' . - <my w™it to her story now, even jjp . <Kid beiore tho prisoner spoke? You -^\r bl*o did not commit the crime her- K&%. whatever she may choose to doclare in fcer auxiuiy to shield tl o prisoner. I hope, sir," he proceeded, glancing at tho District .Attorney, " that you have no doubts as to Miss Dare's innocence 1" But Mr Ferris, instead of answering turned to Hickory and said 4 "Miss Dare, in summoning you to con firm her statement, relied, I suppose, upon the fact of your having been told by Pro fessor Darling's servant-maid that she that is, Miss Pare—was cone from the observatory when tho girl camo for her on tho morning of the murder ?" "Yes, sir," 11A strong corroborative fact, if true ?" " i ok, sir." '^But is it true? In the explanation tchich Miss Daro gave me last night of this affair, she uttered statements oK&ntially different from those she, made in court to day. She then told line she wan in the ob servatory when the Rtrl came for her; that die was looking through a telescope which was behind » high rack filled with charts ; and that Why do you start J" " I didn't start," protested Hickory. "I bog your pardon," returned Mr Ferris.

" Well, then, if I did make suoh a fool of myself, it was because so for hor story is plausible enough. Sho was in that very position when I visited the observatory, you remembor, and she was so effectually ooncealed I didn't sco her or know she was there till I looked behind tho rack."

" Very good!" interjected Mr Forris. "And that," he resumed, "she did not answer the girl or make known hor pres ence, because at tho moment the girl camo In sho was deeply interested in watching something that was going on i« the towu," " In the town I" repeated Byrd, " Yes ; tho telescope was lowered ro as to command a view of c ne tmvn, and she had taken advantage of its position i,&s she assured me lasi night) to consult tlw church clock."

11 Tlie church clock Il' echoed Byrd once wore. " And what timn did she say it was ?" breathlessly cried both detectives. "Five minutes to twelve."

"A critical moment," ejaculated Byrd. " And what was it she saw going on in the town at that special time I" " I will tell you," returned the District Attorney, impressively. " She said—and I believed her last night, and so rocalled her rto the stand this morning—that she saw Craik Mansell lleeing toward the swamp from Mrs Clemmens's dining-room door." Both.men looked up astonished. " That was what site Void me last night. To-day sho comes into court with this con tradictory story of herself being tho assail ant and sola causo of Mrs Clommens's death."

" But all that is frenzy," protested Byrd, " Sho probably saw from your manner that the prisoner was lost if she gave this fact to i'he court, and her mind became dis ordered. She evidently loves this Mansell, and as for me, I pity her." "So do I," assented the District Attorney; "still »

' *Xs it possible," Byrd interrupted, with feeling, as Mr Ferri3 hesitated, " that you do doubt her innocence? After the ac knowledgments made by tho prisoner too ?" Rising from his seat, Mr Ferris began slowly to pace the floor.

" 1 should like each of you," said he, without answering the appeal of Byrd, " to tell mo why I should credit what she told me in conversation last night rather than what she uttored upon oath in the court room to-day ?" •'Let mo speak first," rejoined Byrd, glancing at Hickory. And, rising also, he took his stand against the mantel-shelf where he could partially hide his face from those he addressed. "Sir," he proceeded after a moment, "both Hickory and my self know Miss Dare to be innocent of this murder. A circumstance which we have hitherto kept socret, but which in justice to Miss Dare I think we are now bound to make known, has revealed to us the true criminal. Hickory, tell Mr Ferris of the deception you practised upon Miss Dare in the hut."

The surprised but secretly gratified de tective at once complied. He saw no reason for keeping quiet about that day's work. He tola how by means of a letter purporting to come from Mansell, he had decoyed Imogene to an interview in the hut,"where, under the supposition she was addressing her lover, she had betrayed her conviction of his guilt, and advised him to confess it. Mr Ferris listened with surprise and great interest. "That seomato settle the question," he aaid.

But it was now Hickory's turn to shako his head.

"I don't know," ho remonstrated. "I have sometimes thought she caw through the trick and turned it to her own ad vantage." " How to her own advantage ?" "To talk in such a way as to make us think Mansell was guilty." "Stuff!" said Byrd; "that woman?" "More unaccountable things have happened," was the weak reply of Hickory, his habitual state of suspicion leading him more than once into similar freaks of folly.

"Sir," said Mr Byrd, confidingly, to the District Attorney, "let us run over this mattor from the beginning. Starting with tho supposition that the explanation^ she gave you last night was tho true oney* let us see if tho whole affair does not hang together in a way to satisfy us all as to where tho real guilt lies. To begin, then, with the meeting in the woods " "Wait," interrupted Hickory; thore is going to bo an argument here ; so suppose you givfe your summary of events from the lady's standpoint, as that seems to be the one which interests you most." "I was about to do so," Horace assured him, heedless of the rough fellow's good natured taunt. "To make my point, it is absolutely necessary for us to transfer our selves into her position and view matters as they gradually unfolded themselves be fore her eyes. First, then, as I have before suggested, let us consider tho interview held by this man and woman in the woods. Miss Dare, as we must remember, was not en gaged to Mr Mansoll; she only loved him. Their engagement, to say nothing of their marriage, depended upon his success in jife—a success which to them seemed to hang solely upon the decision of Mrs Clem mens concerning tho small capital he desired her to advance him. But in the interview which Mansoll had held with his aunt previous to tho meeting between the lovers, Mrs Clemmens had refused to loan him this money, and Miss Dare, whose feel ings we are endeavouring to follow, found herself beset by tho entreaties of a man who havinc failed in his plans for future fortune, feared the loss of her love as well. What was the natuial consequence'; Ke bellion against the widow1 * decision, of courss-a rebellion which she showed by the violent gesture which she made-and then a determination to atruggle for hei happiness, as she evinced when, with most unhappy ambiguity of expression, she be-ged him to wait till the next day before pressing his ring upon her acceptance, be cause, as she said : -11.4.1, " 'A night has been known to change tne whole current of a person's affairs.' " To her, engrossed with the one idea of making a personal effort to alter Mrs Clem mens's mind on the money question, these words seomod innocent enough, -out tne look with which he received them, and the pause that followed, undoubtedly impressed ■ her, and prepared the way for the interest Bhe manifested when, upon looking through the telescope tho next day, she saw him flying in that extraordinary way from ins aunt's cottuge toward the woods. Not that , she then thought of his having committed a crime. As I trace her mental experience, .-■-.- she did not come to that conolusion till jt wa« forced upon her, Ido not know, ana

mifrde"-—" *"** Bh° first heard of the " Sho was told of it on the street-corner," interpolated Mr Ferris. "Ah, well, then, fresh from this vision of her lover hastinsc from his aunt's door to judo himself in the woods beyond, she came into town and was greeted by the announce ment that Mrs Clemmens had just been as saulted by a tramp in her own houso I know this was the way in whicli tho news was told her, from the expression of her face as she entered tho houso. I was standing at the gate, you remember, when sho came lip, and her look had in it determination and horror, but no special fear. In fact the words she dropped show the character of her thoughts at that time. Shedistinetlv murmured in my hearing: 'Nonfood can come of it, none.' As if her mind Welo dwelling upon tho advantages which miuht accrue to her lover from his mint's death and weighing them against tho foul men"; by which that person's end lid , "I hastened. Yet { will not , ' '.*, "fT [ may have been infh.cn- . , *x)> m 3° which she took h- "**' '? Vp 'course prehension of ' -f 6<rtwi H*"** or «p ---she camo •*W 'oVr>> The fact that havir **«. W* house at all, mirl, <■' -if C5"WiVv insisted upon knowing all, .••• Vtetflils of the assault, sobiu to prove fc'Mi was not without ti desiro to saiWy her self that suspicion rightly AtWchod itself tg t!ie tramp. Rut Hot until she saw her over s ring otv tho floor (tho ring which she had wth her own hand dropped into the pocket of his coat the day before) and heard that the tramp had justified himself and was no longer considered the apsaijant, did her true fear and horror come. Then, in deed, all tho past rose up beforo her, and, believing her lover guilty of this crime, she laid claim to the jewel as tho first and only alternative that offered by which she might stand between him and Hie tfotleo quonecs of his guilt. Her subsequent agitabon wh'tn tho dying woman made use of tho okolamation that indissolubly con nected tho crime with a ring, speaks for itself. Nor was her departure from the house any too hurried or involuntary, when you consider that tho vengeance invoked i by tho widow was, 1» MissiMrt's opinion, \ called down ttpoh ono to wholly sho had nearly plighted her troth. What is tho ■next act in the drama* The scono in the Syracuse dop<*>t. Lot mo see if I cannot ex plain it. A Woman who has Onco allowed hersoir to suspect the man she loves of a murderous deed cannot rest till sho has eithor convinced herself that her suspicions aro false, or until she has (Mined such knowledge of tho truth as makes her feel justified in her seeming treason. A Woman of Miss.paro's generous natttro especially. What does sh« do, then ! With tho cour ago thftt 'characterises all her movements, sho determines upon seeing him, and from lis own lips, perhaps, win a confession of guilt or innocence. Conceiving that his flight was directed toward tho Quarry Station, and thence to Buffalo, sho em braced tho first opportunity to follow him to tho latter place. As I Jisro told you, her ticket was bought for Buffalo, and to Buffalo sho evidently intended going. But chancing to leave tho cars at Syracuse, she was startled by encountering in tho depot tho very man with whom she had been as sociating thoughts of guilt. Shocked and thrown oil' her guard by the unexpected ness, of the occurrence, cho betrays her shrinking aud her horror. ' Were you coming to see mo?' she askg and recoils, while ho, conscious at tho first glimpse of her face that his guilt has cost him her love, starts back also, tittering, in his shame and despair, words that wero similar to hois, ' Wore you coming to sco me?'"

" Convinced without further speech that her worat i'sars had foundation in fact, she tims back towards her home. The man she loved had committed a crime. That it was partly for hor sake only increased her horror sevenfold. Sho felt as if sho were guilty also, and, with sudden remorse, re membered how instead of curbing his wrath the day before, sho had inflamed it by hor words, if not given direction to it by her violent gestures. That fact, and tho self-blame it produced, probably is the cause why her love did not vanish witli her hopes. Though he was stained by guilt, sho folt it was the guilt of n strong nature driven from its bearings by the conjunction of two violent passions —ambition and love; and she being passionate and ambitious herself, remained attached to tho man while she recoiled from his crime.

"This being so, sho could not, as a woman, wish him to suffer the penalty of his «ickedne?s. Though lost to her, he must not bo lost to the world. So, with the heroism natural to such a nature, she shut the secret up in her own breast, and faced her friends with courage, wishing, if not hoping, that the matter would remain tho mystery it promised to bo when sho stood with us in the presence 4f tho dying woman.

" But this was not to bo, for suddenly, in tho midst of her complacency, fell tho start ling announcement that another man—.lll innocent man—one, too, of her lover's own standing, if not hopes, had by a curious conjunction of events so laid himself open to the suspicion of the authorities as to be actually under arrest for this crime. 'Tuas a danger she had no* foreseen, a result for which she was not prepared. " Startled and confounded, sho let a tew days go by in struggle and indecision, pos sibly hoping, with the blind trust of her sex, that Mr Hildreth would be released withouther interference. But Mr Hildreth was not released, and her anxiety wa» fast becoming unendurable, when that decoy letter sent by Hickory reached hor, awaken ing in her breast, for the first time,perhaps, the hope that Mansell would show himself to bo a true man in this extremity, and by a public confession of guilt release her from the task of herself supplying the informa tion which would lead to his commitment.

"And, perhaps, if it had really fallen to the lot of Mansell to confront her in the hut and listen to her words of adjuration and appeal, he might have been induced to consent to her wishes. But a detective sat there instead of her lover, and the poor woman lived to see the days go by without any movement being made to save Mr Hildreth. At last—was it the result of the attempt made by this man "upon his life ?— she put an end to the struggle by acting for herself. Moved by n sense of duty, despite her love, she sent the letter which drew at tention to her lover, and paved tho way for that trial which has occupied our attention for so many days. But—mark this, for I think it i 3 the only explanation of hor whole conduct—the sense of justice that upheld her in this duty was mingled with the hepe that her lover would escape conviction if he did not trial. Tho one fact which told the most against him—l allude to his flight from his aunt's door on the morning of the murder, a." observed by her through tho telescope—was as yet a secret in her own breast, and there she meant it to re main unless it was drawn, forth by actual question. But it was not a fact likely to ba made the subject of question, and drawing hope from tiiat consideration, she prepared herself for tho ordeal bofore her, deter mined, as I actually believe, to answor with truth all the inquiries that wore put to hor. "But in an unexpected hour she lcarnod that the detectives were anxious to know whoro she was during tho time_ of tho murder. Sho heard Hickory question Pro fessor Darling's servant-girl as to whether she was still in the observatory, and at once feared that her secret was discovered. Feared, I say—l conjecture thh—but what I do not conjecture is that with the fear, or doubt or whatever emotion it was she cherished, a revelation came of the story which she might tell if worst came to worst, and she found horeolf forced to de clare what sho saw when tho clock stood at five minutes to twelve on that fatal day. Think of your conversation with tho girl Koxana," he went on to Hickory, " and then think of that woman crouching be hind the rack, listening to your words, and see if you can draw miy other conclusion from the expression of her face than that of triumph at seeing a way to deliver her lover at the sacrifice of herself." As Byrd waited for a reply, Hickory re luctantly acknowledged: "Her look was a puzzler, that I will allow. She teemed glad " "There," cried Byrd, "you say she seemed glad ; that is enough. Had she had the weight of this crimo upon her con science, she would havo betrayed a different emotion from that.. I pray you to consider the situation," he proceeded, turning to the District Attorney, "for on it hangs your conviction of her innocence. First, imagine her guilty. What would her feelings be, as, hiding unsoen in that secret corner, she hears a detective's voice inquiring where she was when the fatal blow was struok, and hears tho answer given that she was not where sho was supposed to be, but in the woods—the woods which she and every one know lead so directly to Mrs Clem mens's house that she could without the least difficulty hasten there and back in the hour she was observed to be missing? Would sho show gladness or triumph, even of a wild or delirious order ? No, even Hickory cannot say she would. Now, on the contrary, see her as I do, crouched there in the very place before the telescope wliich she occupied when the girl came to the observatory before, but unseen now as Bho was unseen then, and watch the change that takes place in her countenance as she hears question and answer and_ realises what confirmation she would receive from this girl if she ever thought fit to declare

that she was not in the observatory when the girl sought her there on the day of tha murder. That by this act she would bring execration if not death upon herself, «he does not stop to consider. Her mind is full ot what she can do for her lover, and she does not think of herself. "But an enthusiasm like this is too frenzied to last. As time passes by and trail; Mansoll in brought to trial) she begins to hope she may bo spared this sacrilice. She therefore responds with por feet truth when summoned to tne stand to givo evidence, and does not waver, though question after ques tion is a,kcd her, whose angers cannot tail to show tho a { a f.o of her totad in regard to %„ p^Sfj^ Lie^xnd honour. v ,, 0 SW eet even to one in her condition - f if hw , om . could b(j sii\ca w.cnout falsehood it was her natural '"•lunct to avoid it, .

And it looked fte If he would be saved. A d'sfen'oc both skilful and ingenious had b'Aeli advanced for him by his couiwjl—a defence which only tho one frtcfc so securely locked in hor bowtu euuld cohtrdv'rtt-. You can imagine, their, ,thta horror fttlii alarm which must haV* IJwMeU her when, in tho very hoHr df hope you approached her with thy demand which proved that hor Con fidence in her power to keep silence had ooen premature, and (hat the alternative

was yet to be submitted to her of destroy ing her lover or sacrificing herself. Yet, because a great nature does not succumb without a struggle, die tried ovsn now the effect of the truth upon you, and told you the one fact sho considered bo detrimental to the fttfety of her lover.

"Tho result was fatal. Though 1 can not presume to Ray what passed between you, 1 can iMnJfinß hofr thechange in your countenance warned her of the doom sho would bring upon Mansoll if she went into court with (he same story sho told you. Nor do I find it difficult to imagine how, in , one of her history and temperament, a night of continuous brooding oVeV ttUfi olio topic should hftvtt tulminntetf in tho act which startled iii so1 ['rofOundly in tho court-room this morning. Love, misery, devotion aro which sustained her through the ordeal of denouncing her lover in ordor that an inno cent man might bo relieved from suspicion, was tho samo that mado it possible for her to denounce herself that sho might redeem the lifo she had thus deliberately jeopar dised.

" That she did this with a certain calm ness and dignity proves it to havo been the result of design. A murdercen forced by couscienco into confession would not havo gone into tho details of her crime, but blurted out her guilt, and left the dotails to be drawn from her by question. Only tho woman anxious to tell tier story with tho plausibility necesscry to insure its belief would have planned and carried on her confession as she did.

" Tho action of tho prisoner, in face of this proof of .dovotion, though it might have been foreseen by a man, was evidontly not foreseen by her. To me, who watched her closoly at the time, her faco wore a strange look of mingled satisfaction and dospair—satisfaction in having awakonod his manhood, despair at having failed in saving him. But it is not necessary for mo to dilute on this point. If I havo boon suc cessful in presenting before you tho truo condition of her mind during tho struggle, you will see f:>r yourself what her feelings must bo now that her lover has himsolf con fessed to a fact, to hide which she made tho greatest sacrifice of which mortal is capable."

Mr Ferris, who, during this lengthy and exhaustive harangue, bad eat with brood ing countenance andananxious mien, roused himself as the othor ceased, nnd glanced with ft smilo at Hickory. "Wall," said he, "that's good reason ing ; now lot us hear how you will go to work to demolish it."

The cleared brow, tho playful tono of tho District Atturnoy,sho»cu the relieved state of his mind. Byid's arguments had evi dently convinced him of tho innocence of linogene Dare.

Hickory, seeing it, shook his head with a gloomy air.

"Sir," said he, " I can't demolish it. If I could tell why Mansell lied from Widow Clemmens's houso at live minutex to twelve I might he ablo to do so, but that fact stumps me. It is an act consistent with guilt. It may bo consistent with innoconco, but, as we don't know all the facts, we can't say so. But this Ido know, that my convictions with regard to that man huvo undergone a change. I now as lumly believe in his innocenco as I once did in his guilt."

" What has produced tho change ?" asked Mr Fen is.

" Well," said Hickory, "it all lien in this. From tho day I heard MUsDaro accuse him so confidently In the hut, I believed him guilty ; fro'n the moment lie withdrew his defence, I believed him innocent."

Mr Ferris nnd Mr Byrd looked at him astonished. Ho at once brought down hj» fist in vigorous assertion on tho tnblo.

"I tell you," said he, " that Craik'Mansell is inn«ccnt. The truth is, he bclioves Miss Dare guilty, and so stands his trial, hoping to savo her."

" And bo hung for her crimo ?" asked Mr Ferris.

"No; he thinks his innocence will sare him, in spite of the evidence on which wo got him indicted."

But tho District Attorney protested at this.

"That can't be," said ho; " Mansell haa withdrawn the only defonca he had."

"On the contrary," asserted Hickory, "that very thing only proves my thoory true. Ho is still determined to save Miss Dare by everything short of a confossion of his own guilt. Ho won't lie. That man Is innocent."

"And Miss Dare is guilty?" said Byrd. "Shall I make it clear to you in the way it has become clear to Mr Mansell ?"

As Byrd only answered by a toss of his head, Hickory put his elbows on the tab's, and checking off every sontonce with tho forefinger of his right hand, which ho pointed at Mr Ferris's shirt-stud, as if to instil from its point conviction into that gentleman's bosom, he proceeded with the utmost composure as follows :

" To commence, then, with the scene in the woods. Hemeotsher. She is as angry at his aunt as he is. What does sho do ? She strikes the tree with her hand, and tells him to wait till to-morrow, since a night has been known to change the whole .curront of a person's affairs. Now tell mo what does that mean ? Murder ? If so, she was the one to originate it. He can't for get that. It has stamped itself upon Man sell's memory, and when after.tfee assassina tion of Mrs Clemmens, ho recalls those words, he is conrinced that eho has slain Mrs Clemmens to help him." "But, Mr Hickory," objected Sir Ferris, "this assumes that Mr Mansell is innocent, whereas wo have exceedingly cogont proof that ho is tho guilty party. There is tho circumstance of his leaving Widow Clom mons's house at five minutes to twelve."

To which Hickory, with a twinkle in hia eye, replied: "I won't discuss that; it hasn't been proved, you know. Miss Dare fold you she saw him do this, but she wouldn't swear to it. Nothing is to bo taken for granted against my man." "Then you think Miss Diro spoko falsely ? !> " I don't say that. I beliovo that what ever he did could be explained if we knew as much about it as ho does. But I'm not called upon to explain anything which has not appeared in the evidence against him."

"Well, then, we'll take tho evidence. Thoro, is In 3 ring, found on the scene of murder."

"Exactly," rejoined Hickory. "Droppod there, as he rauf t Buppose, by Miss Dare, because he didn't know she had secretly re stored it to his pocket."

Mr Ferris smiled

" You don't see the force of the evidence," said he. "As she had restored it to his pocket, he must have been the one to drop it there."

" I am willing to admit he dropped it there, not that ho killed Mrs Clemmens. I am now speaking of his suspicions as to the assassin. When the betrothal ring was found there, he suspects Miss Dare of the crime, and nothing has occurred to change his suspicion." " But," said the District Attorney, " how does your client, Mr Mansoll, get over this difficulty ; that Miss Dare, who has com mitted a murder to put fivo thousand dollars into his pocket, immediately after ward turns round and accuses, him of the crime —nay more, furnishes evidence against him ?"

"You can't expect the same consistency from a woman as from a man. They can nerve themselves up one moment to any deed of desperation, and take every pains the next to conceal it by a lie."

"Men will do the same ; then why not Mansell ?"

"I am showing you why I know that Mansell believes Miss Dare guilty of a murder. To continue, then. What does he do when he hears that his aunt has been murdered? He scratches out the face of Miss Dare iv a.photograph ;he ties up her letters with black ribbon as if she wore dead and gone to him. Then the scone at the Syracuse depot! The rule of three works both ways, Mr Byrd, and. if she left her home to solfe her doubts, what shall be ti*id vi bun ? Pc recoil, too—was it l«ee

on his part than liers ? And, if she had cause to gather guilt from his manner, had he not as much cause to gatherit from hera ? If his mind was full of suspicion when he met her, it became conviction befcrj he left; and, bearing that fact in your mind, watoh [how he henceforth conducted himself. He does not conic to Sibley j the woman ho Fedrs to oncounter is there. lie hears bf Mr Hildroth's arrest, reads of the discoveries which led to it, and keeps silent. So would any other man have done in his place, at least till he saw whether tins arrest was likely to end in trial. But ■io Cannot forget he had been in Sibley on the fatal day, or that there may bo sDtue one who saw this interview with Miss Dare. When Bynl comes to him, therefore, and tells him ho is wanted in Sibloy, his first question is, 'Am I Wanted as a witness '!' \ And cvon you have acknowledged, Mr Fen-is, that ho seemed surprised to find himself accused of tho criin). But, accused, ho takes his course and lifiajps to it. Brought to trial, ho tamciiibors tno curious way in v:hli;lt he c ossod the river, and thus cut short the road to tho station ; and, seo ing in it great opportunities for a succoss ful defence, chooses Mr Oreutt for his counsel, and trusts (ho secret to him. Tho trial goes on ; acquittal soems certain, whon suddenly she is recalled to tho stand, and ho hears words which make him think sho is going to betray him by some falsehood, when, instead of following the lead of the prosecution, sho launches into a porsoiud confession. What does he do? Why, rise and hold up iiis hand in a command for her to stop But she docs not lined, and tho rest follows as ft mailer of course. The !ifo sho throws awuy lie will not itceopt; Ho W innocent, but his defenco is fulso ! He says so, and leaves the jury to decide on tho verdict. Thero can bo no doubt," Hickory finally concluded, "that some of these eircumstnncoß pro. wnfiiatsi't o^ly with, hla l!*;list' tliai iliss Dare is a murderess: such, for instance, as hisscratch ing out her lace in tho picture. Others favour the theory in a less degrco, but this is what I want to impress upon both your mind?," he declared, turning first to Mr Ferris and then to Mr Byrd : " If any fact, no mailer how uliyltt, laid* its to the convic tion that Cmik Slmuett, »t any time after the timrilcr, entertained the belief that Mist Dare committed it, Ms innocence follows (is a matter of eoitrne. Fur the tjiulty could never entertain a belief in the guilt of any other person."

"Yo«," said Mr Ferris, " I admit that, but we havo got to sco into Manvell's mind beforo wo can tell what his beliof really was."

"No," was Hickory's reply; "letue look at his actions. I say that that defaced picture is conclusive. Ono day ho loves that woman, and wants her to marry him ; tho next, ho defaces her picture. Why? Sho had not offended him. Not a word, not a lino, passes botwuen them to cause him to commit this act. But ho does hear of his aunt's murder, and he does recall her sinister promiso ; ' Wait; there is no telling what a day will bring forth.' 1 say that no other cause for his act is shown except his conviction that sho is a murdorem "

"But," persisted Mr Ferris, " his leaving the houso, as he acknowledges ho did, by this unfrequented and circuitous road ?"

" I hay« said before that 1 cannot ex- Flam his presence Uioro, or his flight. All am now culled upon to show in, some fact inconsistent with anything except a belief in this young woman's guilt. I claim I have shown it, and, us you admit, Mr Ferris, if I chow that, ho is innocont."

"You," said Byrd, speaking for the first time ; " but wo havohoard of people manu facturing ovidonco on their own behalf."

"Como, Byrd," replied Hickory, "you don't seriously mean to attack my position with that suggestion. How could a.man dream of manufacturing ovidenco of *uch a character? A murderer manufactures evi dence to throw suspicion on other poople. No fool could snpposo that scratching out the faco of a girl in a photograph and lock ing it up in hia own de»k would tend to bring her to tho scaffold, or to save him from it."

"And yet," rejoined Byrd, "that very net acquiti him in your ovo*. All that v necessary is to givo him credit for being smart enough to foresee that it would have tiiicli a tendency in the eyes of any person who discovered tho picture."

"Then," miii Hickory, " ho would nlso have to foresee Uiat eho would aooimo her self of murder whon lie was on trial for it, und tliut he would thereupon withdraw his defence. Byrd, you are foreseeing too much. My friend Mansell possesses no such power of looking into tho future- as that." "Your friend Mansell!" repeated Mr Ferris, with a smile, "if you wero on his jury, I suppose your bins in his favour would lead you to acquit him of this crime?" " I should declare him ' Not guilty,' and stick to it, if I had to bo locked up for a year." Mr Ferris sank into an attitude of pro found thought. J lorace Bj rd, impressed by this, looked at him anxiously. " Ilavo your convictions been shaken by Hickory'k ingenious, theory ?" lie ventured to inquire at last. Mr Furris abstractedly replied : " Thin ia no time for me to state my con victions. It is enough that you compre hend my perplexity." And, relapsing into his former condition, ho romained for a iqoment wrapped in eilonco, then he said : '•Byrd, how comes it that the humpback who excited so much attention on tho day of the murder was never found I" Byrd, astonished, survoyed the District Attornoy with a doubtful look that gradually changed into ono of quiot eatis faction as he realised the significance of this recurrence to old theories and sus picions. His unswor, howorer, was slightly embarrassed in tone, though frank onough to remind ono of Hickory's blunt-spokon ad missions. "Well," said ho, "I Bupposo tho main reason is that I mado no attempt to find him." " Do you think that you woro wiso in that, Mr Byrd ?" inquired Mr Ferris, with somo severity. Horace laughed. "lean find him for you to-day, if you want him," ho declared. ~ "You can? You know him, then ?" " Very well. Mr Ferris," ho courteously remarked. "I perhaps should hare explained to you at tho time that I recog nised this person and knew him to be an honest man ; but the habits of secrecy in our profession are so fostered by the lives we lead that we sometimes hold our tonguo when it would bo bettsr for us to speak. The humpback who talked with us on the court-houso steps tho morning Mrs Clem mens was murdered was not what ho seemed, sir. Ho was a detectivo ; a dotec tivo in disguise; a man with whom I never presume to meddle—in other words, our famous Mr Oryce." "Gryce!—that man!" exclaimed Mr Ferris, astounded.

" Yes, sir. lie was in disguise, probably for some pnrposo of his own, but I know his gyo. (Jryco's eye isn't to bo mistaken by anyone who has much to do with him." "And that famous detective was actually on the spot at tlio time this murder waa discovered, and you lot him go without gaining me of his presence?" " Sir," returned Mr Byrd, " neither you nor I nor anyone at that time could foresee what a serious and complicated caec this was going to bo. Besides, he did not linger in this ■vicinity, but took the cars only a few minutes after ho parted from us. I did not think ho wa»ted to be dragged into this affair unless it was necessary. He had im portant matters of his own to look after. However, if suspicion had continued to fol low him, I should have notified him of the fact, and let him *peak for himsolf. But its vanished so quickly in the light of other developments, I just let the matter drop." The impatient frown with which Mr Ferris recoiled this acknowledgment showed he was not pleased. "I think you made a mistake," said ho. Then, after a minute's thought, added : " You havo seen Gryco since ?"

" Yes, sir; several times." " And ho acknowledged himsolf to havo been the humpback ?"

" Yes, sir." " You must havg had somo conversation with him, then, about this murder. He waa too nearly concerned in it not to take some interest in the affair ?" " Yes, sir ; Gryco take 3an interest in all murder cases."

"Well, then, what did bo have to say about this one? He gave an opinion, I sup pose?" "No, sir. Gryce never gives an opinion without study, and we detectives have no time to study up an affair not our own. If you want to know what Gryce thinks about a crime, you have got to put the case into his hands." Mr Ferris paused and seemed to ruminate. Seeing this, Mr Byrd flushed and cast a side glance at Hickory, who returned him an expressive shrug. "Mr Ferris," ventured the former, "if you wish to consult with Mr Gryce on this matter, do not hesitate because of us. Both Hickory and myself aeknowledgs we are more or less baflled by the case, and Gryce's judgment is a good thing to.have in a perplexity." " You think so ?" queried the District Attorney. "I do," said Byrd. Mr Ferris glanced at Hickory

" Oh, have the old man here if you want him," was that detective's blunt reply. " I have nothing to say against your getting all the light you can an this affair. "Very good," returned Mr Ferris. "You mtty give mo his address before you go.'' "His adrlreia fof to-night is Utica," ob served Byrd. "He could be .here before morning, if you wanted him."

"I am in no such hurry as that," re turned Mr Ferris, and ho sank again into thought. The detectives took advantage of his ab straction to uttor a few private condolonces in each others ears.

"So it seems we are to be laid on tho shelf," whispered Hickory. "Yes, for which let us bo thankful," answered Uyl'd, "Why? Are ydu getting tired of t)io aff/iir?" .

. A. h'uffl'c'rbils twinkle shone for a moment in Hickory's eye.

"Pooh!" said he, "it's just getting in toresting."

" Opinions differ," quoth Byrd. " Not much,' retorted Hickory. Something in tho way he said this nindo Byrd look at him more intently. He in utantly changed his tone. "Old follow," eaid ho, "yon don't boliovo Miss Daro committed this crime nny moro than I do." A sly twinkle answered him from the do tcctivo's half-shut eyo.

"All that talk of having seen through your disguise in the hut ia just nonsense on your part to cover up your real notion about it, What Is that notion, Hickory? Como, out with it j Ictus understand each other thoroughly at last." " Do I understand you?'1 " You shall wheh you, tell ms just what your qonnotions.rir°B lli tills mattbi'." "Well, then," roplied Hickory, with a short glance at Mr Ferris, "I beliove (it's hard ns pulling tooth to own it) that neither of them did it: that she thought him guilty and hs thought her bo, but that in reality tho crime lies at the door of some third party totally disconnected with either of them."

" Such os Gouvorneur Hildreth ?" whispered Byrd.

" Such —as — Gouvorneur Hildroth," drawled Hickory.

The two detectives oyed each other, smiled, and turned with relieved counten ances toward tho District Attorney. He was looking at them with great earnestness, "That is your joint opinion?" he re marked.

"It is mine," cried Hickory, bringing his list down on the table with a vim that made every individual article on it jump. "Itit and it is not mine," acquiesced Byrd, ns tho eye of Mr Ferris turned in his direction. "Mr Mansell may bo inno cent—indeed, after hearing Hickory's cx plunation of hin conduct, I am ready to beliove ho is—but t« say that Gouverneur Hildroth is guilty comes hard to me after the long Btrugglo I have maintained in fuvour of his innocence. Yet, what other conclusion remains after an impartial view of tho subject? None. Then why should I shrink from acknowledging I was at fault, or hesitate to admit a defeat where so many causes combined to mislead mo ?"

" Which tnonnsyou agree with HicKOry?" vonturcd tho District Attorney. Mr Byrd Hlowly bowed.

Mr Ferris continued for a moment look ing alternately from ono to the other : then ho observed :

" Whon two such men tinito in an opinion, it is at least worthy of considera tion." And, rising, he took on an aspect of'sudden determination. " Wlmtovor may be tho truth in regard to this matter," said ho, " one duty is clear. Miss Dare, as you inform mo, has been' —with but littlo idea of the consequences, I nm sure—allowed to romnin under the impression that the inter view which sho held in tho hut was with hor lovor. As her belief in the prisoner* guilt doubtless rests upon tho admissions winch wore at that timo made in her hear ing, it is palpablo that a gravo injustice hai been dono both to hor and to him by leaving this miKtako of hera uncorrccted. I there fore consider it duo to Mies .pare, as noil as to the prisoner, to undeceive her on this score beforo anothor hour has passed over our heads. I mutt therefore request you, Mr Byrd, to bring tho lady hero. You will find her still in the courthoiißO, I think, as slio roqussted leave to remain in tho room below till tho crowd had left the street?."

Mr Byrd, who, in the now light which had been thrown on tho affair by his own and Hickory's suppositions, could not but sco the justico of this, roao with alacrity to oboy. " I will bring her if she is in the build ing," ho declared, hurriedly leaving tho room.

"And if she is not," Mr Ferris remarked with a glanco at the consciouely rebuked Hickory, "wo shall h&vo to follow her to her homo, that is all. lam determined to hoc this woman's mind cleared of all mis apprehensions before I tako another step in tho way of my duty."

(To be Continuel.)

AUSTRALIAN LARRIKINISM.

Rolgn of Rnfflanism In a New South Wales

Town.

DI'MKG the past fow months the inhabi tante of Ultimo, near Sydney, havo been kept in a continual state of alarm by the numoroiiH bands of larrikins who infest tho district, and whoso daring outrages have created a porfoct reign of torror. The larrikins, whose ogos range from \i to 20, eeeraod to regard all rospectablo people as their natural victims, and the contents of thoir houses as thoir own peculiar porqui sites to be had by plundering. Tho auda city with which they carried on their operations is without parallel, and they had b( come more and more emboldened as they saw that tho polico seemed to bo power less to cope with them. Tho neighbourhood became notorious. Thcso larrikins, not content with breaking into people's houses and assaulting strcot passongers, have in cluded in tho list of their victims respec table young girls, who could not pass through the atrects In tho day-timo with out being insulted, and who at night time ran great risk of being subjected to outrageous violence by «no oftho numerous gangs infesting the thoroughfares. The polico eoemed powerless to grapple with tho evil; persons were assaulted and b« sieged in their very houses; windows wero broken, and women outraged with impunity, and whenever the polico Interfered to pre vent crime and disorder, they were brutally ill-used; the favourite mode of repulso'of these larrikinß being a shower of stones. Things hod come to such a pass that the attention of the police authori ties was specially called to tho mat ter, and two of tho smartest men in tho force, Senior-sergeant Koatinge and Detec tive Lewis, were sent to tho Ultimo district to see what could be done to purge the dis trict of tho larrikin scourge. To the great credit of these two officers, bo it said, thoy

havesot about their task in a highly moth odical and enterprising manner, and it is satisfactory to observe ilint thoir efforts have already been attended with the very best results. A short time back a man named Wm. Scowen waa brought up on a charge of attempting to ravish and carnally know one Elizabeth Moon at Ultimo, and he was committed to take his trial at the forth coming Quarter Sessions, bail being refused. Ho was known to have had accomplices, however, and Detectives Kcatingo and Lowis have been busily engaged over since this committal in endeavouring to trace them, though for some time their efforts wore unavailing. Ultimately they were charged with the investigation of a case of breaking and entry, and stealing from tho house of Isabella Goodonough, at Ultimo, from whom a quantity of clothing and jewellery, valued at £10, was stolon, and two youths named respectively James Moloney and Michael Hickey were arrested and brought up on Friday morning and charged with the offence. After hearing the evidence, Mr Abbott, S.M., committed the two prisoners for trial at the next Quarter Sessions, and rofused to allow bail. It appears that since the arrest of these two, Detectives Koatinge and Lewis received information which eeemed to implicate Michael Hickey in the above-mentioned case of attempted rape, it being alleged that he was tho person who stood by to watch while Scowen threw the girl down and attempted to ravish her. He wa3 on Friday charged with aiding and abet ting Scowen, but the case was remanded in ordor to allow the case for the prosecu tion to be completed. At the same court James Kiddle, James Varley, James Tighe, and Michael Moloney wero also brought up on remand on thecharge of assaulting Mr Ed ward Croke, at Ultimo, whom they brutally assaultod, and afterwards surrounded his house, which they proceeded to wreck, but were prevented by the police. One of the ringleaders of thebandwas sentenced, for his share in the outrage, to 6 months' hard labour by Mr O'Malley Clarke, on the 11th inst.; and Mr Abbott now sentenced Riddle, Varley, and Motonoy each to 2 months' hard labour. Tighe was discharged. There can be no doubt that euoh prompt and decisive action as thia cannot fail to produce a beneficial influence, and it has already been observed that a marked change has taken place in the attitude of tho rowdy element of Ultimo society.

Hints on Hearing Chickens.

Now is the time to set eggs to obtain early chicken?. Nevjr mind the little extra trouble entailed in attending to young chickens iv winter tinlet the benefit of having them early will amply repay yon. In this climate of North New Zealand you never have any weather in winter that need be fatal to chickens if only ordinary care and attention is devoted to their manage ment. But my ideas of ordinary care and attention arc probably very different from tho.se of the general run of people who have never as yet taken the trouble to study poultry and their requirements very closely. Experience has taught me, and anyone ■fyhd is, sdccpsiJfi.il with fpwlk that atten t'on to' numberless siiiall titiiigs, requir: ing close and minute observation to find out their importance, is essential to profitable poultry keeping. Only the poultry brooder who takes a pride in his occupation will ever become thoroughly coinpotent to manage fowls with great .suc cess. It is particularly in the rearing of young chicks that beginners break down. Chickens hatchedunderagood mother inline wannsiiinincnvoather, with unlimited spneo to range over, will, bar violent deaths from accident, rear llumnehvu. 13ut it v the chickens hatched in July and August that arc tho most worth rearing. Again, a limited range, which is all mnny suburban poultry keepers have, greatly enhances the difficulty of keeping your young chicks strong nnd healthy. But nevertheless it ean'bo done by anyone who cares to take tho troublo to find out how to do it. A correspondent of the "Amorioan Poultry Yard," a lady by tho way, has evidently taken this tniubl", and 1 can oii'lorrie as true nnd sensible all she, says on the sub ject, which 1 here quote !—" Do not expect iino vigorous birds from poor, weak, or diseased parents. Let your breeders In; tho strongest and best birds of your Hook. Then, having secured your sitting hen, make her nest of fine hay, or similar sub stance; if not, on tho ground, with soil at the bottom, tlnis Riving the needed moisture. Sprinkle in a little sulphur to destroy any lice now present or likely to appear. It is better to give her a few china cgirs for a few days until she proves hor good intentions. During incubation she should have a convenient dusting place, pure water, and food daily. On the appear ance of the chicks, I have found it well to remove them from time to time, us they are often crushed by rolling eggs in a full nest. All that is necessary for the first twenty four hours ia warmth, then feed them until four or five days old with hard-boiled egg, grated with cracker, four or five times a day, all they will cut; for drink I give them new milk. Drink of some form should always bo within reach, thus avoiding water crop, which is caused by extreme thirst nnd then an excess of water. After tho first few days I give dry oatmeal, and a cak» made by thickening about a quart of milk with provender, adding one teaspoon ful of bone-meal, another of salt, bake and crumble. For green food there is nothing bettor than lettuce ; a hotbed on the south sido of somo building will furnish this very easily at littlo or no cost. Where chickens are confined something of the kind must be given them, as also to tako the place of bugs and insects they wouldcatch if at liberty. To supply this want I give them occasionally a little fresh fish, or tender meat mashed fine with potato. Provide them with plenty of line gravel and a place to dust themselves ; corn should not be fed them under three months, or very sparingly, it being too hearty, causing crooked toes; good whole wheat will always bo in order after they are old enough to swallow it; rice whole and dry is beneficial. In nny disturbance of the bowels a bit ofr ed pepper given in milk will also be of service should the chick in any way become chilled or seem to bo drooping. "Chickens should ulwnys bo provided with suitable shelter, both from wot and dump, as also from tho intense heat at noonday, and with perches by themselves as soon as they show indication to leave tho nest or sleeping place. I have often been obliged to raise my chicks without a mother, and thus far with excellent suc cess ; chicks thus cared for are more con tented, and do far less peeping than those raised in the ordinary way, the great essentials being plenty of warmth, suitable and varied food, never forgetting that per fect cleanliness, good pure air, and sunlight must be furnished at all times.

" Poultry raised in this way is more tame, consequently more easily managed. My White Leghorn pullets of last year, brought up in this way, weighed at laying fvjlbs., this being with mo evidence of correct mathods from known results.

" Everyone wishes to make each under taking a success ; circumstances at times render this impossible ; but with patience and energy, remembering that whatever is worth doing at all is worth our best effort, and that six fine, plump, working hens are worth twenty-live undersized, deformed unfortunates whose plumage is all set the wrong way. Wo will all, I think, be willing to incur a little more labour and euro, knowing there will bo sure returns. Do not understand me that good •hicks can bo raised in no other way ; but only this—they can bo in this way, and sometimes poor luck is but another name for poor management."—"Chanticleer" in " North New Zea'and Settlor."

Poultry in England.

Tun Right Hon. W. E. Gladstone, in addressing his tenants at Hawarden, said : —"I will now take another case—that of eggs ; that is a very good illustration, for it is in everybody's power to raise poultry, and, if I may say so, grow eggs. In 1855, though that was a time when freedom of trade had advanced largely in tho country, and when thero was, consequently, a very good increase in the consumption of good food by tho people, 100,000,000 ojrgs were, imported from abroad, which represented a consumption of an average of 34 foreign eggs to overy man, woman, and child. You might have said, if asked to send eggs : ' Oh, no ; there aro already plenty, or more than enough in tho market' But that is not tho fact, for in ISSO tho import had increased to 750,000,000 eggs from foreign countries. It is hardly credible!, so vast and so multiplied is the demand for these littlo but very useful commodities, every one of them helping to feed somebody. The consumption per head has increased from 3J to no fewer than 36J eggs. That illustrates what I have said to you about tho enormous, insatiable capacity of the human stomach. Depend upon it, that if it be in your power to turn your attention —I don't say at flint on a very large scale, but on a modorato Eeale—to the production of those articles which are of the nature of comfortt?, or even comparative luxurios, for popular consumption, you will find that tho market will gradually open and adjust itself for their reception. I think tho figures I have quoted aro a distinct proof of tlio truth and ronliry of what I havo said.— Enylhh Lire Slock Journal,

Men and Women.

It appears from the gathered statistics of tho world that women havo a greater tena city of life than men. Nature worships the female in all its varieties. Among insects the male perishes at a relatively early period. In plants the scniinate blossoms die earliest, and aro produced in tho weaker limbs. Female quadrupeds have more endurance than males. In the human race, despite thcintcllectual and physical strength of the man, the woman endures longest, and will bear pain to which the blind man succumbs. Zymotic diseases are moro fatal to males, and moro male children die than females. Deverga asserts that tho proportion dying suddenly is about 100 women to 270 men ; 10S0 men in the United States in 1870 com mittod suicide, to 285 women. Intempcr anco, apoplexy, gout, hydrocephalus, affec tions of the heart or liver, scrofula, paraly sis, are far more fatal to males than females. Pulmonary consumption, on tlio other hand, is more deadly to the latter. Females in cities are more prone to consumption than in the country. All old countries not dis turbed by emigration have a majority of females in the population. In royal families tho statistics show more daughters than sons. The Hebrew woman is exceptionally long-lived. The coloured man exceptionally short-lived.' The married state is favourable to prolongation of life among women. Dr. Hough remarks that there are from 2 to 6 per cent, more males born than females, yet there is more than 6 per cent, excess of females in the living populations. From which statistics we conclude that all women who can possibly obtain one of theso rapidly departing men ought to marry, and that as men are likely to become so yery scarce, thoy cannot be sufficiently prized by the other sex.

Chasing a Fortune.

Botk at school and at collego Bernard Hooker had been one of the wildest and moat dare-devil youths imaginable. He had been the terror of meek companions, the aversion of crdsr:loving dummies, the triumphant outwitter, on more than one occasion, of oven that great man, the

proctor,

But these halcyon days were past. Any particular exuberance of spirits, in Ber nard's prosent position, would have been as phenomenal and as incongruous with his sur roundir.gs as the presence of English hedge blossoms in Eastern desert. He was chained to the oar of daily toil as tightly and as hopelessly as any galley slave. Tho sturdy symmetry of his figure, the humorous cast of his frank and open countenance, tho twinkle of his light blueeyes, weieallthat«utwardly remained of the idiosyncrasies that had made him tho idol of his comrades in class and on college walk. Tho pressure of adverse cir- Clliimtanccs had nut an iron curb upon his vivacity, if it had not altogether crushed it.

Ho had looked forward to reading for tho bar, with the prospect, if he displayed ability, of a capital start in his ehoson pro fession by reason of his father's position and influence. Instead of this Bernard Hooker found himsclf^at the age of two-and-twonty, merely an insignificant unit in tho already overcrowded ranks of professional quill drivers.

His father had become the dupe of an unprincipled business partner, and had lost everything. Even Edwin Hooker's hitherto fair fame had suffered aspersion, for it had been hard to persuade the great careless world that i:ho villainy which had made the trading name of Hooker and Qlenning a byword in the city, ■ was the work of Archer Glcnning alone.- Yet it was so, and the criminal rrittl which followed the crash tod a talo1 of forged signa tures and stolen securities which sW the elder and victimised partner free, and would certainly have relegated the junior to the keeping of prison-winders for a long term of years, had he remained to face tho storm. He had fled, and carried with him Edwin Hooker's fortune.

Thus it eamo about that the eon was earning his daily bread in Ihe Fpmbury branch bank of Kenworth & Co. That tie was located in the country, with open skies abovo him and pleasant fields around, was the ono mitigating circumstance of his hard and dreary lot. In other respects even the average London bank clerk was betteroff. Mr Hollis, Messrs Ken worth's Fembury manager was an irascible little man, who believed, as

firmly a» an Egyptian taskmaster, in get! ing the very utmost in the way of effort out of hu subordinates. Tho bank hours might nominally be from nine to five, but he had a trick of piling on extras which materially lengthened them.

It would be, "These letters cannot be loft, Mr Styles," or; " This ledger requires attention, Mr Hooker." To have refused, or oven expostulated, v. as to court instant dismissal, for Mr Hollis was as passionate as he was haughty, aud knew himself to be inTested with plenary power within the bank precincts. There was no resource but to obey.

It was a bright May morning, fragrant in tho Fembury Innes with tho Fcent of early wild flowers, and vocal with melody of birds. It was market day in the littlo country town, and the clink of gold in consequence frequently resounded on the bank counter. As a rule, Bernard Hooker paid little or no attention to tho litful procession of clients that passed the door on his right. He was not cashier, and the burden of hia own duties was sufficient for his oftentimes weary shoulders. But as the surly office clock announced tho quarter before the

luncheon interval, the sound of a voice he surely knew mingled with its dull bass. An instinctive tromor ran through every

fibre of the young man's body. He looked sharply up. What he saw for the moment puzzled him, and seemed to refute tho evidence of his ears.

The voice was emphatically that of Archei1 denning ; the*outward presentment of the speaker was that of an absolute stranger. But a closer scrutiny a.id the recollection of the fact that the accomplished swindler was of necessity a fugitive explained the phenomenon. Edwin Hooker's absconding partner was of a truth there in the flesh be fore Bernard's eyes, but to cunningly dis guised that the cleverest Scotland Yard de tectivo might have been pardoned for a blunder. The shapely moustache and heavy beard had both vanished ; the light auburn locks of the " Hue and Cry " de scription were now raven black ; the very eyebrows had discarded nature, and applied for protection to the artist in flesh and hair tinting.

In carriage and attire the revolution was equally striking and equally complete. The stately, upright gait of the Lombardstrtet merchant was exchanged for a stooping shamble that would have provoked the ridi cule of many a clodhopper. The trim dress - invariably on tho model of the latest mode in paEt days —was superseded by a hybrid makeup of turf and stable costume. And yet Bernard was sure of his man. That crisp, metallic utterance was in itself a well-nigh sufficient clue. It awakened bitter reminiscences with the enunciation of every syllable. "Will you bo good enough to cash this cheque, please ?" The cash was shovelled out on the gleam ing mahogany, and an instant later had found a new resting place in the stranger's purse. He turned, and for a second caught the half-stupified glance of the young clerk. The effect was magical — a scared, terror stricken expression leaped into the furtive, shifty oyos, and every vestige of colour for sook tho sallow cheeks. Bernard Hooker waa recognised in his turn.

With the sharp click of the closing door, Ben ar I's senses returned to him. Hero, when least expected, was the opportunity of recovering lost hopes. The rumour that tho scoundrel ( had sailed for South America was plainly false. Ho was still within reach of British justicr, and, if captured, might be com polled to disgorge his plunder, er at least such portion of it as was yet unsquandered. He must be follower!, tracked, and that instantly ! Tho fatuity that had brought him on some casual errand to Fembury and to Messrs Kenworth's bank must be trans lated, by immediate enterprise, into a mani festation of that Nemesis which, by the logic of the story-books, treads inevitably on tho heels of wrong.

A decision was reached in far less time than it takes to recount the fact. Bernard seized his hat, and with a muttered inco herent apology, pushed his way past his scandalised superior, and literally ran down the stone steps into the street. "What is the meaning? Is the fellow mad I" gaspod Mr Hollis, a portentous frown gathering upon his brow. It was certainly mysterious behariour, and the fellow-clerk, to whom this query was pre sumably addressed, was taken nearly as much abank as his chief. Ho had no expla nation to offer.

Carolcss of tho consternation which his nbmpt proceedings had occasioned, Ber nard's stops were towards tho railway sta tion. This was clearly tho aim of tho pur sued.

To be thirty seconds too lato is, under all circumstances, abundantly annoy ing. This was Bernard Hooker's lot on the prosent occasion. Ho reached the platform of tho Fembury station just in tiino to see the up-train steam into the yawning gulf of the north tunnel, and to know that in one of that train's compart ments sat, in retrained security, his father's foo and his own. There was nothing to do but lo confess failure, and to return, after dining, to the drudgery of the bank desk. He did not even know the alias of the rogue, and,' after all, his evidence of identity, if sufficient for himself, might fail to convince another. It would be useless to appeal to the local police force for these reasons.

"An impudent and a madcap freak, Mr Hooker, whatever may be your oxcuse," growled Mr Hollis. "If you want to leave the offico in a hurry again, to overtake any body—anybody, sir !—bo good enough to ask leave."

Bernard was compelled to promise that he would. For the rest of tho afternoon he went on his way with the tedious columns of figures in a state of mental agitation and chagrin unparalleled since the day on which ho had first learned that his parent's bank ruptcy was unavoidable. " Those scraps of paper, Mr Styles, had better ornament the waste-basket than the floor."

The manager's accents were harsh and querulous ; his temper seemed to have been toured for the day by Bernard Hookers escapade. ' „ , " I have not dropped them, sir, replied the inculpated junior, resenting as much as he. dared the implied charge of untidiness. •'One foil from your own desk, and the other was left behind by tho gentleman whom Mr Hooker tried to catch. Bernard's ears tingled anew. What it the last-mentioned fragment should bear upon its surface some clue to the villain's assumed name or whereabouts ! By easy strategy lie gained possession of the slip, -and found it to be half an envelope, with tfie letters " Joyn "on one side, and the postmark "Ickford" on the other. This might or might not lead to a discovery,

In the rolitude of his own apirtmenti that eve- in Bernard Hooker ►•■ i-i.hed ctji the name vi . i » a Brad .nv'smsp He found it t<; v ti.a- .<) » sm-ili oi v in tn north of Englniif 1. "Whatever the emsquencc, I'll run down there and mike inquiries; if I win, the game will be worth tLe caudle," he soliloquised. And the next day a note in the bank letter-box accounted —though hardly satis factorily to the critical judgment of Mr Hollis—for the second clerk's absence. At Ickford the trail was unmistakably struck. Skilful investigation showed that a Mr Joynson—whoso outward man ap peared to tally precisely with Bernard's sketch-description—had been staying at the chief hotel for several weeks, and had pased as an individual of position and wealth. Alas ! it showed also that he had decamped with both bag and baggage a few hours before Bernard's arrival. " Foiled a second time !" groaned that young man, in bitterness of spirit. "The scamp lias smelt danger, and probably will make for South America, or tome other safe hiding-place, in earnest now." With hopes sinking rapidly below zero again, Bernard took ticket for London. Ho would put a professional detective on the track, and then return to Pembury. If Mr Ilollis dismissed him for his pains, ho must just re-commence his weary fight with for tune in foine other arena. " Why, Bernard ! This is. an agreeable surprise indeed !• I was wondering not above a day or two ago what had become of my ancient ally. So many pranks as we've been guilty of together ! Ha, ha I" The speaker was Frank Allerton, Ber nard's dearest college chum, and a young northern squire, whose sister Amy , but this was a romantic dream which had faded into an absurdity in the thick gloom of environing disaster. v< hy recall it ? The new-comer had joined the train at Jotchley Junction, and, like Bernard, was bound for tho metropolis. As the friends ; were alone in the compartment, Bernard's I etoly was soctl told. " And you are hunting tho rascal down ?" i ''I ha\ v'e attempted it, and ho lias beaten me." " What sort of a fellow is be'—in personal appearance, I mean ?" For tho fourth or fifth time Bernard ran i glilily over tho salient characteristics of ; that figure which Fate,, rather than any i consciou.-? mental effort, had photographed so minutely upon his memory. " It is he exactly ?" cried Frank Allertort with an almost ludicrous combination of amazement, disgust, and wrath mirrored upon his countenance. " Why, the fellow has been living at Beckham, within a stone's throw of our own manor-house, for eight or nine months, Mr Joynson — " Yes, that is the name he is using." " Is reputed in the village to be worth half-a-million of money—more or less. Ho is the resource of all the amateur mendi- j cants in tho district, and, figuring as a well- | to-do bachelor, he has even dared to make i certain proposals for my sister's hand. Amy I refused his offer, solely on the ground of disparity of years." Not solely on thot ground, Bernard took leave to hope, in despite of his friend's dog- j matism. But he had no word to answer at ! the moment. AnA there was excuse for his temporary bewilderment in the presence of co strange and unlooked-for a revelation. In the hour of his darkest despair the fair i promise of contingent victory had come. j "What a reckless and daring hypocrite the man must be!" Frank continued. "I'll admit I never liked him from the first, but ' he had no idea of such a sword of Damocles i being suspended over his head. Amy has had a lucky escape, and she will think so." , At last Bernard regained his power of utterance. "I'll go on to London now," he eaid, "apply for a warrant, and aoquaint my father with the facts; and then, in com pany with a police-officer, seek out Mr Joynson at home." This programme was fulfilled,and success crowned the enterprise. A few weeks later commercial circles were discussing every where v new cavsn eclebre, and the strange chain of events—as unfolded in the spcechof counsel for the prosecution—by which not only had a notorious swindler been en meshed in the net of the law, but stolen ■ bonds had found their way back into the j cotters of the rightful owners. I But not the least happy result to Bernard Hooker was that he learned from Amy Allerton's own sweet lips that at least one reason bej ond that of age had existed for her refusal of Archer Olenning's suit. She had already bestowed her heart upon her brother's friend. Her hand soon followed. And now Bernard Hooker — a rising and popular barrister—sometimes tells his wife with a Bmile that on a certain memorable May day he chased a fortune in two senses.

SNA KE POISONING.

Dying by Inches after the Bite of One of India's Deadly Serpents. Amosr: many instances of snake-bite poi soning I have seen, uas a strong young Brahmin of 20, well-known to me, who had been bitten during tho night while watch ing his maize crop. Ere I knew of it, they had brought him into my compound in front of the bungalow. As yet, he walked quite steadily, only leaning slightly on the arm of another man. There was that pecu liar drowsy look in his eyes, however, as from a strong nnrcolic, which indicated his having been bitten for some time, and left but little room for hope now. Ho could still clearly tell me particu lars. He had been bitten, he said, on putting his foot to the ground while moving off his charpoy in the dark, but thinking the bite was that of a non poisonous snake, had given no more heed to the matter, and gone to sleep again, till ho was awoke bj his friends coming in search of him. With some difficulty I was able to find the bite - very faint, no larger than the prick from a pin, but still the un mistakable double mark of the poison fanes. He felt the poison, he said, gradually ascending the limb, and pointed to a part just above the knee, where he felt it had already reached, the limb below that being, ho said, benumbed and painless to the touch, like the foot when " asleep." I gave him the usual remedies, and kept him walking to and fro, but gradually his limbs seemed to be losing their power of voluntary motion, and his head was begin ning to droop from the overpowering drow siness that was sm-ely gathering over him. At intervals he pointed out tho poison line rising higher, and was still able to answer questions, clearly on being roused. At length it seemed to be ofno use torturing him further by keeping him moving about,, and he was allowed to remain at rest. Shortly after this, while being supported in a sitting posture, all at once, without any promonitory sign, ho gave one or two long sighs, and lifo ceased, nbout an hour after ho had himsolf walked into the compound. Thoro was something torribly real in this faculty of pointing out each stage of the ascending poison (as tho snakq-bitton pationt always can) that was gradually bringing him nearer and nearer to doath, with the prospect of only another hour or half-hour of life remaining to him; and yet the patient does not seem to realiiso this with the keenness that an on-looker does, pro bably from the poison benumbing at the same time the powers of the mind as well as of tho body. — From "All the Year Round,"

Sweet-Minded Women.

So great is the influence of "a sweot minded woman on those around her that it is almost boundless. It, is to her that friends come in the season of sickness and sorrow for help and comfort, ©ne soothing touch of her kindly hands works wonders in the feverish child ; a few words let fall from her lips in the ear of a sorrowful sister do much to raise the load of grief that is bowing its victim down to the dust in anguish. The husband comes home worn out with the pressure of business, and feeling irritable with the world in general; but when he enters the cozy sitting-room and sees the blaze of the bright fire, and meets his wife's smiling face, he succumbs in a moment to the soothing influences, which act as the balm of Gilead to his spirit. We are all wearied with combating with the realities of life. The rough schoolboy flies in rage from the taunte of his companions to find solace in the mother's smile, lhe little one, full of grief with its own large trouble, finds a haven of rest on its mother s breast; and so one may go on with instances of the influence' a sweet-minded woman has in the social life with which she is connected. Beauty is an insignificant power when com pared with here.

AN OLD SLAVE SELLER.

Strange Story by the Last of the Nogro Air: ■ w.-s - slaves Lost and Won G.astet r,. " \" .•:■*, sir. .< ) far as I know, and I think I krnvv ~!! ••■ !■• it, I'm Ihe last living repre* ! seiHii ;\o nf [ac profession—the last man alive in the United States who made a busi ness of selling niggers from the auction block. I'm 72 years old now, and I pucFß my time has nearly come." Thus spokeo!d Jack Campbell as he filled his glass for the ; fourth time at a Broad-street bar, aid leaned back against the counter to open up his budget of reminiscences. " I went in' o> tho slave auction business in 1835, and nover quit it until tho war broke out. I ha\e sold niggers in Baltimore, Richmond, Charleston, Savannah, Louisville, Mobile, New Orleans, Memphis, and all along in the other towns of tho South. I don't blow my own trumpet—you know that on their own merits modest mon are dumb—but I can say that Jack Campbell had the reputation for showing up the good points of a ' buck * \ or a ' wench ' and drawing out bids that made him in demand wherever there was a :. big sale. "The nigger traders have made me travel ! 500 miles to run off a lot for them, and they paid me my own price for my work. . $ " How many have I sold % I was in the business some twenty-five years, and I guess I always handled 50U or 000 a year. " I've had plenty of queer experiences as you call them," he continued, after he had wiped his lips with a nobby white silk hand kerchief. "Long as you ask about it, I re member the biggest money I ever got for a nigger was 9,000 dollars for a pretty quad roon wench that I sold in Louisville about | '51 or 'J3. She was only 18, and was about as white as you or me, and her two children had light curly hair. Her master, lived . «' down near Bowling Green, and though l.c in his luck that ho had to sell her. I heard, too, that his wife swore that nigger must | leave tho plantation or she would go home !to her family. My instructions were not to | take lesa than 0,000 dollars for the girl, and I was to get a big percentage an all over that; so when they put her on the block I . talked her up for all she was worth. "There were more than twenty men bid ding for her, and the fellow that got her for f. 9,000 dollars was a rich and gay young bachelor from Tcncssee, who happened to be in the city on a spree and was attracted by cuwiosity to the sale. He was a little H drinky, and wasn't caring anything for his ducats. He was so set on having the girl, I believe he would have given 20,000 dollars for heij, if anybody had bid her up that high. ■;■ He carried her homo that day, and I ain't ... going to tell you anything more about him than that he made a big name in the South ern army, and ivas killed at the head of his soldiers. ■ - . ■}, "One of this women's children by her : first master lives in a Massachusetts town now, and is a rich man. There isn't a sign of . i black blood in him." '' Have you.sold many of such people ?" "Plenty of likely girls, from chocolate '•:■. colour up to nearly white, and got from ■'. 3,000 dollars to 6,000 dollars apiece for 'em. ■ *- There always was a good market for that _ | kind of stock. No, it didn't come from any particular place in the South. You could ,-;.}} find it everywhere from Maryland to Loui- -| siana. Southern gentlemen took an interest in it, sir, and no decent master would let one of those girls marry a black man. They were superior people, superior people." '' Which were the best markets ?" / k "New Orleans, Louisville, Charleston and ; Baltimore used to be about the same till - the cussed black Abolitionists got to- run ning the niggers north by the underground ' railroad. After that it was always a little . dangerous to do business in Baltimore or Louisville for fear the Yankees would steal them across the Pennsylvania line or the Ohio River. " I brought six blacks to Baltimore once on my own account, and put 'em in the pen at the corner of Eutaw and Camden-streets,' to wait for a sale. Two got loose that very - night, and that was the lust I ever saw of ! them. Of course they got over into Penn sylvania, but they never could have done it without somebody helped them, for they ' had come clear from North Carolina. They were worth l,£oo dollars apiece, and I was . , clear 3,000 dollars out of pocket. There was a nest of infernal Quakers up at a place called Christiana in this State, and they were always lookin1 out to rob a man of his ' ' honest property. ' "Another time a nigger ran away from me at Newport, Ky., and got to Cincinnati. I went across the river and saw a friend of mine who kept a place where I had played ■ in a good many thousands of my hard ~% earned dollars. I told Mm I wanted his J help to get the man back, and, says he, 'Jack, if you ain't a fool, you'll let that moke go. It mightn't be healthy for you ';% to raise a row liere over one nigger, 'cause the nigger lovers are bosses here.' He was a sensible man, and I took his advice. " This was in 'SS, and after that I didn't do any more business on my own risk bo close to the North. The last sales were made in Baltimore and Louisville in 1861, but for fire or six years previous New Orleans was out best market. "Maybe it ain't any use telling people 30, but the hardest masters on the slaves were the Yankees who had settled in the South or had como there .as overseers. I never saw one of them that wouldn't break up a family when he wanted, tosell. I had to deliver two field hands once at a planta tion three miles out from Milledgeviile. I was marching them along the road, and one turned as quick as a flash and knocked me down before I knew what he was doing. They started to run, but I drew on them, ' and brought ono of them down with v bullet in his back. He wasn't badly hurt, but after I got them up to the plantation the one I shot was laid up for three weeks, and cuss me .if the man who had bought him Z didn't offer to sue me for the loss of his services, after I had saved his nigger for him. That man was a Yankee squatter, and there was plenty more just as mean as ' him." "I suppose there are not many signs left of the slave trading days!" " More than you'd think unless you know where to look for them. Go into any Southern hotel that was built before the war, and ask them to let you go down into the cellars. See if you don't find there the old cells where servants of travellers were shut up for the night. The Baltimore Cus tom House was once a hotel, and there are more than two dozen cells under it now. Ben O'Hara's slave gaol in that city is still , :: standing on Pratt-street, although it has been turned into a beer garden. And : through all the larger cities in the South ; the old residenters could show you the private pens." " When did you last sell a negro !" • '- " Going down tho Mississippi from St. .j^g Louis to Now Orleans on tho steamer Star of the South in May, 1861, I was getting out of tho South, for things were becoming too hot for mo thore. A fellow who was taking some niggers to v plantation he '."..' owned in Arkansas got cleaned out in a little game of draw, and put two of 'em up on a small straight. They were scooped in by a man who had three deuces and a pair of jacks, and, as he didn't want them, he offered them for sale. " Pretty much everybody on board knew mo, and I was called to ask for bids. They ,'.. • were two as good young I ucks as ever you saw, and I only got 1,600 dollars for both. I When the war bad brought business down ~ ; - I that low, I thought it was time for me to drop out of it, and I did." " I have heard it said that these stories ,: ; about betting slaves over a gambling table . '. are all lies." ' "You just take old Jack Campbell's word : for it that it is true. I've travelled the t Mississippi a hundred times before the war, j and he'd a hand in many a game where • nl'gg°rs right on board were the stakes. I ' Yes, I've won some of 'em, too, and lost _ ; 3 'em again."—From the "Boston Herald."

The Woman Who Works.

! Tj^; woman who works. - strong in her s! self respect, strong in the respect of all who ) '' toil that they may live, strong in the favour ' of all who have known what it is to earn 1 their bread by the sweat of their brows, ■'H I strong in the spirit of personal indepen.' ' deuce, needs no protection from the "pity ing patronage" of anybody. If she is at> times disposed to regard any slight put ■■ upon her by thoso who have no business in ' life save to amuse themselves, she may enjoy* ' a revenge every day, for the ravens of mis fortune fly in at all windows. And tWo ] ' are, doubtless, among women who hava found it necessary' to go out into the worltf ": and battle for existence, those who find: stings in tho "pitying patronage "of thct • t fortuno favoured, and who sit back in sack-/ i- cloth amid the ennobling inspirations o£ a their work-a-day lives. To them is com ® mended the words of Carlyle: " All truet '. ,r work is sacred; in all true work, were its c. Irat truo handrlabour, there it; something o£ II divineness. Therefore, 'Hut's off' to-.tha , fa wdSuen who work 1 It would be idle to life > up their heads, for their beads are already*1 • uplifted." • .-'

THIS APO&LANP fcVENlim STAR, SATURDAY, AtfGtST 9, 1884,

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By Anna Kathkrine Gueen, Author of "Tho Loavenworth Murder,I'"The Sword of Daraodos," "The Defence of.tho Prude," otc.



At the poultry market.—Customer: "I should like to look at a fat goose. SUop boy : "If you'll wait a minuto, missus will bo here direotly." ««onlTfiH ON. RATS."—CIMiro out r&ts, mice. ro*ch«, 1 .XwopUwim, rromi $ Co., AB«at», Audtlftti .



Benefactors.—"Whena board o£ eminent physicians and chemists announced the dis covery that \>y combining some well-known valuable remedies a. most wonderful medicine was produced, which would euro suet a wide range of diseases that most ull othei remedies could bo dispensed with, many wer< sceptical, but proof of its merits by actual tria has dispelled nil doubt, and to-day the tiiecov erers of that great medicine, Hop Bittos, an honoured ana blessed by all as ooneiaotors. Read. ■ '