A DEAD MAN'S FACE

(~,y lIDGH CONY.AY, IS "HAKI'EU's MOKTHLY.")

Imaginative beings who invent marvellous talcs' may toko what license they picas* but a simple narrator is nothing if not accurato; so, before beginning this, I looked up old correspondence and various memoranda made at the timo when the following things occurred. Tho first paper upon Which I put my hand was a lotter. I may as well open with a copy of it :— • 'Dear Old Boy,—l have mot her at last fate—tho one woman in tho world for Z_T Nothing is settled as yet; but I Should not write this unless hopo wore a certainty- You must wish me joy, although sho is a widow and an American two qualifications which I know you will 7_ l fault with. No matter : when you see klv you will recant and be envious.—Yours nu •> "Claud Mohton." ovor,

Tbo write wont by brother—l was going t.Biwmv only brother, but I had another ™« although tho less said about him the bettor. Nearly every family Ims its black •diccp ouw '"--■ b*'en :l Pecul""'-y • s,lbl° " c When he died some years ago, 1 nnss-d DlO spongo over his long list of Sollnquoncios, ami tried to think of him as kindly as possible. Ho died 11 disgraced ml ,n, far away from homo. I call this black sheep, Stephen, my brother, not Claud's, the fact being that Claud can scarcely bo said to have known j.; m I stood in ago midway between the two' Claud was si-toon years younger than Stephen, so that when tho latter was shipped off lis irreclaimable, tho former was a little goldon-haired follow of seven The above letter made mo feel both glad and sorry. I was glad that the boy—ho -•aa still tho boy to me, although his ago was Bevon-ond-twonty—was going to bo married; but 1 was sorry that his choice bad not fallen on ono of his own country women, and one who could have givon him her first love. Still, all this was his own peculiar business. No doubt he had made asuitablo choice, and the only thing loft for mo to do was to write him a cheerful letter 0 [ congratulation, and hope that his lovo ..lairs would soon bo happily sottled. A week went by, then came a long letter from him. He had proposed in orthodox form, and lukl been ***lly OCCPted- Hia lotter liea boforo mo at this moment, and I feel snd as I road again tho two page, covered with the lover's usual raptures. lam not a mercenary man, but I own I felt somewhat disappointed on learning thatahe was poor. Somehow one associates wealth with au American widow who ia sojourning in England. But, so far as I MU Id gather from Claud's letter, Mrs Des pard or Judith, as ho called her, was not well off. Ho spoko of hor as boing all alone in London, which fact, ho added, would necessarily hastou his marriago. It would take place, ho hoped, in a week or two. In conclusion, he pressed mo to run up to town in order to mako the acquaintance of my future sister-in-law. _ I was very busy at the tirao—l may say in passing, that my business is to euro peoplu's ailments, not to tell stories— nevertheless I managed to pay a (lying visit to town, and was duly presented to Claud's Yes, she was handsome—strikingly hand some.' Her appearance was much out of tho common, She was tall, superbly built—on a large scale, perhaps, yet graceful as a pantherin every movement. Hor faco gave evidence of much character, power, nnd de termination, and of passion also, 1 decided. Her rich dark beauty w.a at that time in full bloom, and although I saw at a glanco that she was somo yoars older than my biother, I was not at all inclined to blame Claud for his rapturous expressions. So far as personal charms went, I could find no fault with Judith Dospard. For tho rost, it was easy to aeo that sho was passionatoly in lovo with Claud, and for the sake of this I gladly overlooked all my fanciful ob jections to his choice, and congratulated him heartily on having won so beautiful a creature. Yet, strange to say, in the midst ot his new-found happiness my brother seemed anything but his usual cheerful solf. Ho, tho merriest and most talkative of men, seemed taciturn, moody and preoccupied. The curious thing was that his changed manntr struck me particularly whilst wo H-ere in Mrs Despard's company. He spoko and behaved in the most affectionate and lover-like way, but thero was in his general bearing something which puzzled me altogether. It seemed to.mo that he might perhaps be norvous as to what impression his fair friend might make upon the eldor brother whom ho so reverenced and respected. This theory of mine was strengthened by the fact that when, at night, wo found ourselves alone, and I was able to freoly eipross my admiration of Mrs Despard's good looks, he brightened up considerably, and we Bat until a very late hour, and talked over the past, the present, and tho future' "When do you mean to be married? I sited. , ."In a fortnight or three weeks. There is nothing to wait for. Judith is living alone in lodgings. She has no friends to consult; so we will just walk to church some morning and get it over." " Well, let me walk with you. I should like to see the last of you." " All right, old fellow. But you'll be the only ono, unless Mary likes to honour us." Mary was my wife ; but as her timo was just then fully occupied by a very young baby, I did not think it at all likely she wonld be able to mako the long journey to town,

"I shall fix the earliest day I can," addod Claud. " Tho fact is, 1 have beon feeling rather queer lately. I want a change." Thereupon I questioned him as to what tiled him. So far as I could ascerta;n, all tktwos tho matter was his having worked toohard, and being a little below par. _ I pracribed a tonic, and quite agreed with iiin aa to the benefit which ho would derive from change of air. When I reached homo my wife Bcolded ffle for my stupidity. It seems that it was oy duty to have found out all about Mrs Deepard'a ontecedents, relations, connec tions, circumstances, habits, and disposi tion, whereas all I could say was that aha was a beautiful widow with a small incomo, and that sho and Claud were devoted to one another.

"Yes," said Mrs Morton, scornfully, "likeall other men, tho moment you see a pretty face you inquire no further. I quite tremble for Claud." Whon I refleetei how little I really knew abiot Mra Despard, I felt abashed and guilty, However, Claud was a full-grown sian, and no fraternal counsel was likely to turn him aside from his desire.

In the course of a fow days he wrote mo that ho was to bo married on tho sth of next month. I made arrangements which would en&blo me to go to tiio wedding ; but three day. before the date named I hoard n^ain from him. The wedding was postponed for a fortnight. ' He gave no reason for tho delay; but he said ho was anxious to sco me, and to-morrow he should run down to »y home.

He came aa promised. I was nghast "ton I saw him. He looked worn, haggsrd, fetched. My first thought was that en .nees matters had gone wrong with him. sii_s loobi might well be thoso of a man on the brink .of ruin. After the first greeting •■at once took him to my study in order to "Put out of suspense. Just as I was about tofcegin my anxious questions he turned to ae. '

'Frank, old follow,"hecaid, imploringly, f1"! with a faint attempt at a smile, "don't aogh at mo." Laugh! That was tho last thing I was likely to do. I pressed his hand in silence. _ "You won't believe me, I know," ho con tinued. "I can't bolievo it myself. Frank, I »m haunted."

" Haunted !" I was bound to smile, not itottt any disposition toward merriment, but an ardor to show the poor boy tho absurdity this Won.

"Yes, haunted. The word sounds ri diculous, but T can use no other. Haunted." "What haunts you?" He came close to mo and grasped my arm. Hir voice sank to „ hoarse whisper. , "A horrible, ghastly, gruesome thing. It is killing me. It comes between me and Wy happiness. I have fought and struggled ■against this phantom terror, I have rea soned calmly with mysolf. I have laughed uiyown folly to scorn. Tn vain—in vain. It goes, but it comes again." ■■'. Overwork," I said, "insomnia, too many ""•gars, late houra; and had you beon a drinking man I should add, too much stimu lant, too little food, anxiety perhaps. tlave you anything on your mind-any »pecial worry ?" < _-.E Courß° * have," he said, pettishly. Did I not tell you it is killing me ?" \Y hat is killing you »" He rose and paced the room excitedly ; Wen suddenly lie stopped short, and once more clutched my arm. _ ~' """id wildly—"a man'sfacej P ,Mrt-»l *tW face that comes to m ; »

horrible mask, with features drawn as in agony—ghastly, pale, hideous ! Death, or approaching death, violent death written in every lino. Every feature distorted. Eyes starting from the head. Evory cord in tho throat standing out, strained as by mortal struggle. Long dark hair lying flat and wet. '1 bin lips moving and working— lips that are cursing, although I can hoar no sound. Why should this como to mo why to me. Who is this dead man whoso faco wrecks my life? Frank, my brother, if this is disease or madness, cure me ; if not, let mo die."

His words, his gestures, sent a cold thrill through mo. He was worse, far worse, than I had feared.

"Claud," I said, " you are talking non sense. Cure you !of course I mean to cure you. Now sit down, colloct yourself, and tell mo how this hallucination comes."

" Comes ! How does it como ? It gathers in corners of the room—it forms and takes shapes—it glares at mo out of the wall—it looks up at mo from tho floor. Ever the same fearful white dying faco, threatening, cursing, .sometimes mocking. Why doos it como';" I had already told the poor follow why it came, but it was no use repeating my words. "Tell mo when you see it," I asked ; "at night—in darkness. ' Ho hesitated and soomed troubled. " No, nover at night. In broad daylight, only. That to 1110 is the crowning torror, tho ghastlinoss of it. At night I could call it a dream. Frank, believe me, lam no weak fool. For weeks I havo borne with, this. At last it has conquered me. Send it away, or I shall go mad."

"I'll send it away, old boy, uover fear Tell me, can you see it now ?"

"No, thank God, not now." "Have you soon it to-day" " No ; today I havo beon freo from it." " Well, you'll bo free from it to-morrow, and tho next day, and tho next. It will be gone for ever boforo you leave mo. Now come and see Mary and the babios. \ haven't oven asked you how Mrs Despard is."

A curious look crossed his faco. " I think she grows mora beautiful every day," ho said. Then he seized my hand. " Oh, Frank, ho oxcl.imod, " rid mo of this horror, and 1 shall bo tho happiest man in the world."

"All right,'' I answered, perhaps with mora confidence than I felt.

Although I made light of it to my pationt, his state greatly alarmed me. I hastened to put him under tho strictest and most approved treatment. I enforced the most rigid sumptuary laws, made him live on plain food, and docked his consumption of tobacco unmercifully. In a fow days I was delighted to find that my diagnosis of the caso was correct. Claud was rapidly re covering tone. In a week's time he seemed quite restored to health. The days went by. As yet Claud had said nothing about leaving me ; yot, unless tho date was once more adjourned, ho was to bo married on the 19th. I did not counsel him to postpone the happy day. He was by now so woll that I thought he could not do better than adhere to his arrangement. A month's holiday, spent in

the society of tho woman he loved, would, I felt certain, complete his cure, and banish for ovor that grisly intruder begotten of disorganised nerves. From the monotonous regularity ond voluminous naturo of their correspondence

was evident, delay and separation not

withstanding, that matters woro going on quite smoothly between Claud and Judith Despard, Every day he received and wrote a long letter. Nevertheless, it was not until

the Kith of tho month that I know exactly what ho meant 10 do about his marriage.

" Frank," ho said, " you havo beon won derfully kind to me. 1 believe you havo saved my life, or at least my reason. Will you do something mora for me?"

" Even unto half my kingdom," I an swored,

" Look horo. lam ashamod of tho feel ing, but 1 absolutely dread returning to town. At any rate, I wish to stay there no longor than is needful. Thursday morning I must, of courso, be there to bo married. You think me curod, Frank?" lie added abruptly. "Honestly, yes. If you take caro of yourself you will be troubled no more." " Yet why do I dread London so ? Well, never mind. I will go up by the night mail on Wednesday—then I neod only be thero for a few hours. Will you do this for mo—go up on Wednesday morning, see Judith, and explain how it is that 1 shall not see her until wo mot in tho church?"

" Certainly, if you wish it. But you had hotter write as well."

" Yes, I shall do that. Thero nre sovoral other littlo things you must see to for mo. Tho license I have, but you must let the clergyman know. You had better go and see my partners. Thoy may think it strange if 1 marry and go away without a word."

Thinking it better that he should have

his own way, I promised to do as ho wished. Upon my nrrival in town on Wednesday afternoon, I wont straight to Mrs Despard's. I was not sorry to have this opportunity of seeing her alone. I wished to urge upon her tho necessity of being careful that Claud did not again get into that highly wrought nervous state from which my treatment had so happily extricated him.

Sho was not looking so well as when last

I saw her, At times her manner was rest less, and she seemed striving to suppress agitation. She made no adverse comments on her lover's strange whim of reaching town to-morrow only in time for tho cere mony. Her inquiries ns to his health were most solicitous, and when I told her that I no longer feared anything on his account, her heartfelt sigh of relief told me how deeply she loved him. Presently sho looked me full in the face. Her eyes woro half closed, but 1 could soe an anxious, eager look in t them. " He saw a face," she said. " Has it left him ?" "He told you of his queer hallucination, then?"

"No ; but onco or twice when sitting with mo ho sprang to his feot and muttered, ' Oh, that face ! that ghastly, horrible faco I I can bear it no longer!' Then ho rushed wildly from the room. What face did he see, Dr. Morton ?" To set hor mind at rest, I gave her a little scientific discourse, which explained to her how such mental phenomena woro brought about. She listened attentively, and seemed satisfied. Then I bade her adieu until to-morrow. The marriage was to bo of the quiet kind. I found that Mrs Despard had made no arrangement for any friend to accompany her ; so, setting all rules of etiquette at defiance, I suggosted that, althoueh the bridegroom's brother, I should call for her in tho morning and conduct her to the church. To this she readily consented.

Somehow that evening I did not carry away such a pleasing impression of my brother's bride as I did whon first I met her. I can give no reason for this, excopt that I was not forgetful of my wifo's accusation, that when first I met Judith Dospard I had boon carried away by tha glamour of her beauty, and thought of nothing else. As I walkod to Claud's rooms, which I occupied for tho night, 1 almost regretted that ho had been so hasty—certainly I wished that we knew more of his bride. But it was now too late for regrets or wishes. I called for Mrs Despard at the appointed hour, and found her quite ready to start. Her dress was plain and simple—l cannot describe it; but I saw that in spite of her excessive pallor she looked very beautiful. In the carriago on our way to the church sho was very si.'ont, answering my remarks with monosyllables. 1 left her in peace, sup posing that at such a moment every woman must bo more or less agitated. When the carriage drew up at the church door the bride laid h6r hand upon my arm. I could feel thateho was trembling. "Claud will bo here?" sho asked. "Nothing will stop him?" "Nothing. But I may as well step out and see that he is waiting." Yes, Claud was in tho church waiting for us.' We exchanged greetings. The old sexton summoned the curate : and Judith De?pard, my brother, and myself walked up to the altar rails. Claud looked vory well that morning—a little fagged, perhaps, but the long night journey would account for that. He certainly looked proud and happy as he stood on tho altar side by side with the woman who in . few minutes w.ould be his W But before the curate had finished reading the opening address a groat change came: over him, From where I was standing I cou d cc only his aide face, but that was enough to show me that he was suffering fromg _ome agitation-something far above the nervousness so often displayed by a bridegroom. A deadly pallor came over his face, small beads of _»™piratu» TO%J? his brow, and I noticed that those tell-tales of mental disturbance, the hands, were so tightly clenched that the knuckles grew white; It was evident that he was suffer ing anguish of some kind, and for a moment I thought of stopping the service. But the rite is but a short one, and from whatever cause Claud's agitation might proceed, it was perhaps better to trust to him to curb it for a few moment, than to make a wow. Neverthelee* I watched Mm l_ *W W« ajwiQujljr.

Then came the charge to declare any im pediment. As the curate made the conven tional pause, Claud, to my surprise, glanced round in a startlod way, ns if fearing that hia marriage would at the last moment be for bidden. Tho look on his faco was now ono of actual torror. Both bride and bridegroom said their " I

wills " in such low tones that I could scarcely hear their voices. Then, in pursuance of my duty, I gave the woman to the priest. He joined the hands of Claud and Judith.

After having playod my little part 1 had moved back to my former Btation. I was now close to tho bride, and aa Claud turned to her, could Bee his face to advan tage. It was poaitively distorted with sup pressed emotion of some kind. Hie mouth was set, nnd I could Bee that his teeth were closed on bis under lip. He did not look at his fair bride. His gaze passed over hor shoulder. In fact, he seemed almost oblivious to hor presence. I was dreadfully frightened.

Theclcrgmnn'h voico rang out—"l, Claud, tako thoo, Judith, to my wedded wife." Then, hearing no ocho of his words, ho paused. " Repeat after 1119," he prompted. Again he began, "I, Claud "

Hut, his voico was drownod in a loudor one, which rang though tho empty church. With a lierco cry, as of inexpressible rage, Claud had thrown the bride's hand from him, and wan pointing and go«ticul»ting to ward tho wall, upon which his eyes had Boon riveted. "Hero!—oven horo !" ho almost shrioked. "That cursed, white, wickod, dying face! Whoso is it. Why doos it come botwoon mo and my love ! Mad ! Mud ! I am going mad !"

I heeded not tho olergyman'slook of dismay, or the bride's cry of distress. I thought of nothing but my unfortunate brother. Here, at tho moment which should be tho

happiest he had yet known, the gruesome hallucination had come back to him. I threw my arm round him ond tried to calm him, "It is fancy, dear boy," I said. "In a moment it will bo gone. "Gone! Wby does it come ? What havo I to do with this dying man? Look, Frank, look ! Something tolls me if you look you will see it. There ! there I Look there !"

His eye's were ovor fixed on tho samo point. Ho graspod my arm convulsively.

I am ashamed to say that I yielded, and looked in tho direction of hii gaze. "There is nothing thero," I said, sooth ingly. " Look !" ho exclaimed. "It will como to you ob to me."

It may havo been tho hopo of convincing Claud of the illusionary naturo of the sight which tormented him, it may have boon somo strange fascination wrought by his words and manner, which made me for some moments gaze with him. Cod of heaven ! 1 saw gradually forming out of nothing, gathering on tho blaub wall in front of me a faco, or tho semblance of a faco, white, ghastly, horriblo! Long, dank, wet-looking dark hair, oyes starting from thoir sockets, lips working—the whole appearanco that of the faco of a man who is struggling with death in every dotail as Claud had de scribed it. And yot to mo that faco was more terriblethan ever it could havo been to Claud.

1 gazed in horror. 1 felt my oyos growing riveted to tho sight as his own. I felt my whole frame trembling. I knew that in a moment I should bo raving as wildly as ho raved. Only his hoarse whisper recalled me to my sonses. " You soe '_"' ho asked, or rathor asserted. Horror forced tho truth from mo. "I see, or fancy I soo," I answered. With a wild laugh Claud broke from me. Ho rushed down tho church and disap peared. As ho loft me, tho faco, thank Heaven I faded from tho wall, or from my imagination. I turned to my companions. Judith Despard was lying in a dead swoon on the altar stops: the curate with trembling hands was loosening the throat of her dross. I called for water. Tho eoxton brought it. I bathed the poor woman's tomplos, and in a fow minutes she sighed, oponed her oyes, and then shuddered. I took hor in my arms and staggored to the church door. The curate removed his surplieo and followod mo. I placed my almost sonseloss biuden in the carriage "For Heavon's sako, see her home," I said to the cuyato. "I must go and look after my brother. As soon as I have soon him I will come round to Mrs Despard's. Got her homo quickly. Tho coachman knows whoro to go." The brougham drove off. 1 throw mysolf into a cab, and drove toward Claud's rooms. I hopod ho might hare gone straight thoro. To my great relief, when I reached his house ho was on the doorstep. Wo ontercd

his room together ; lit sank wearily into a chair, and buried his faco in his hands. I was scarcoly less agitated than himself, and my face, ns I caught its rotloction in tho mirror, was white as his own. I waited for him to speak. Presently he rained his head. "Go to her," he said. " Ask her why that face comes between us. You saw it—eren you.

It can bo no fancy of mine. Tell her wo can meet no more."

"I will wait until you are calmer bofore 1 g°-" J " Calm ! lam myself now. The thing has left me, as it alwaya doos. Frank, I havo hidden from you ono peculiarity of my stato. That awful face nover shows itself to me unless I am in her company, Even at tho altar it came betwoen us. Go to hor; ask her why it comes." 1 left him, but I did not quit tho homo for some time. I went into an adjoining room and tried to collect my thoughts ; for, as I said, my mind was more troubled than oven Claud's could bo.

lam ashamed to reassert it; 1 am will ing to own'that excitemont, my brother's impressive manner, superstition which I did not know I possessed—anything that may bear a natural explanation—may have raised that vision. But why Bhould that phantom, gathering and growing from nothing until it attained to form, or at least semblance, have boon tho faco of ono I had known? Why should the foatures distorted in deadly agony have been those of my brothor Stophon ? For his was the dreadful face which Claud's prompting or my own imagination had raised.

Almost like one in a dream I went to do Claud's bidding. I was thankful, upon reaching Mrs Despard's, to find that she had gone to her room, and left word that she could see no one to-day. This gave me time to consider tho position. Acting on a suddon impulse, I went to tho telegraph office, and sent instructions to my wifo to forward to me, by passongor train, a small box, in which I kept old letters and papers. Then I wont back to Cloud, and after somo persuasion, induced him to leavo town at onco. I told him I would arrange everything on tho morrow. He was bettor away. In the morning my box arrived. In it I found what I wanted. After the calming effects of a night's rest I felt ashamed of my weakness as I drew from old letters a photograph of my brothor Stephen—one taken about two years before the report of his death reached us. Nevertheless I put

the portrait in my pocket, and about noon went to Mrß Despard's. I was at once admitted, and in a few minutes she came to me. She looked worn and haggard, aa if sleep had not visited hor for nights. Dark circles had formed round her fine oyos ; lines seemed to have deepened round her firm, passionate mouth. She advanced eagerly toward me and held out her hand. I took it in silence. Indeed, I scarcely knew what to say or how to act.

"Where is Claud!" she asked, in a quick voice, but scarcely above a whisper. " He has left town for a few days."

She pressed her hand to her heart. " Doos that mean I shall see him no more ?"

"I am afraid I muat say it does. He thinks it better you should part." She gave a sharp cry, and walked up and down the room wringing her hands. Her lips moved rapidly, and 1 knew she wan muttering many words, but in so low a key thut I could not catch their meaning. Suddenly she stopped, and turned upon me fiercely. '." Is this your counsel and advice ?" she demanded.

" No. It is his own unbiassed decision." « Why—tell me why ? He lo.yod me—l love him. Why does he leave me ?" The paseionate entreaty of hor voice ia indescribable. What could I say to her? Words stuck in ray throat. It seemed the height of absurdity for a sane man to give a sano woman the true ressjn for Claud's broken faith. 1 stammered out something about his bad state of health. " If he is ill, I will nurse bim," she cried. "I will wait for years if he will give me hope. Dr Morton, I love Claud as I never before loved a man." She clasped her hands and looked im ploringly into my face. In a mechanical way I drew the portrait of my dead brother from my breast. She saw the action. "His likeness!" she cried joyfully, "He eenda it to me ; Ah, he lovea me !" I handed her the photograph. " Mrs Deapard," I asked, "do you know " I did not finish t .c question, yet it was fully »niw._tf. Jfow, I believe, lipge

then, did a human faco undergo Buch a sudden, frightful change. The woman s very lips grew ashott, her eyes glared into mine, and I saw them fall of dread. She staggered—all but foil. . „ , , "Why is it hore-who is it ?" sho gasped

I was a proy to tho wildest oxcitemon.. To what revelation was this tending ? What awful thing had I to learn ? " Listen," I said, sternly. " Woman, it is for you to answer the question. It is the face of this man, his dying face, that comeß botwoon you and your lover." " Tell me Mb name." I road rather than heard the words her dry lips formed. "The name he was once known by was Stanley." . . A quick, sharp shudder ran through her. For a moment I thought blio was going to

faint. "Ho is dead," she said. " Why doos ho come betwoon my lovo and me ? Others have lovod or said they loved me since then. Thoy saw no dead facos. Had I lovod them I might have married and beon happy. Claud 1 lovo. Why does the dead man troublo him ?" "That man," I ropliod, "was my brother—Claud's brother. Sho throw her arms with a gesture of utter despair. " Your.rother—Cloud's brothor!" she repeated. Thou she fixed her oyos on mine as if sho would road tho secrets of my soul.

" You nro lying," she said. "I nm not. lie wns our eldost brothor. lfo loft England years ago. He passed under a false name. He died. When and how did lie die ?" . . She sank, a dead weight, into a chair ; but still she looked at mo like one undor a spell. I seized hor wrist. "Toll me, woman," I criod—" toll mo what this man was to you ; why his dying face comes to us 7 Tho truth—speak tho truth!' Sho seemed to cower boneath my words, but her oyoi wore still in my face. " Speak !" I cried, fiercely, and tightening my grasp upon hor wrist. At last sho found words. . "He was my husband ; I killed him, sho Baid, in a strange voice, low, yot perfectly distinct. , I rocoiled in horror. This woman, the widow and self-confessed murdoross of ono brothor, within on ace of being tho wife of the other! " You murdorod him ?" I said, turning to

thewoman. " I murdered him. Ho made my life a hell upon earth. Ho beat me, cursed me, ruined me. He was the foulest-hearted fiend that ever lived. I killed him." No remorse, no regret, in her words. Quito overcome, I leaned against tho chimney-piece. Bad as I knew Stephen Morton to havo beon, I could at that moment ouly think of him aa a gay, light hearted school-boy, my elder brothor, and in those days n uerfect hero in my eyes. No wonder my heart was full of vengeance. Yot oven in tho first flush of my rage I knew that I could do nothing. No human justico could be meted out to this woman. There was nothing to prove the truth of her self-accusation. Sho would oscapo scot-free. " Would that 1 could avenge his death I" I said, sullonly. Sho sprang to her foot. Her dark oyes blazod. " Avenged !" she cried. "Is it not doubly, trebly avenged ? Has ho not takon all I caro for in life from me ? Has he not takon my love from my side ? Coward in life, coward in doath. When I killed him I know ho would try to come back to mo. He has tried for years. Ah, I was too strong for him. I could banish tho face with which he strovo to haunt mo. I could for got. I could lovo. I could have beon happy. Yot ho has conquered at last. Not me—he could not conquor mo—but tho ono I love. Oh, the coward is avengod !" In spite of my feeling of abhorrenco, I gazed on the speakor in amazement. Hor words woro not those of ono who had com mitted a black crimo, but of ono who had suffered wrong. Tho strango, fanciful idea that tho dead man had boon trying to haunt her, but had boen kopt at bay by her strong will, was in my experience unprecedented. As I saw the agony of mind undor which she was labouring tho thought came to mo that perhaps hor words woro truo, that my brother's doath was this day avongod. I resolved to leavo her. I could gain no good by prolonging the painful acono. Sho was still pacing tho room in fiorco passion. Suddenly sho stoppod short, and in thrilling ncconts began to speak. It seemed as if she had forgotten my presence. "See," she cried, "the river bank—tho daik rushing stream. Ah, wo aro all alone, side by Bide, far away from everyone. Fool ! if you could read my heart, would you walk so near to tho giddy brink ! Do you think tho memory of tho old lovo will stay my hand when tho chance comes ! Old love is dead : you boat it, cursod it to doath. How fast doos the stream run ? Can a strong man swim against it? Oh, if I could bo sure—suro that ono push would ond it all nnd give freedom ! Onco I longed for lovo—your lovo. Now I long for death —your doath. Oh, bravo, swift tido, aro you strong enough to free mo for ovor? Hark ! I can hoar the roar of the rapida in the distance Thero is a deep fall from tho river cliff; thore are rocks. Fool! you stand at the very edge, and look down. The moment is como. Ah !" With hor laßt oxclamation sho used a violent gesture, as if pushing something from hor. She was, I knew, in her oxcite mont, reacting tho tragedy. " Free ! freo ! freo !" she cried, with a rapturous laugh, and clasping her hands. "Hold him, bravo stream 1 Sweep him away. Soo !ho swims ; but ho dare not swim with you. You are hurrying down to tho rapids. He must face you, and wrestlo with you for his life. Boar him down ; keep him from me. If ho masters you, ho will land and kill mo. Hold him fast, brave stream ! Ha! his strength fails.. Ho is swept away ;he is under. No, I see him again. He turns his face to mo. Ho knows I did it. With his last breath he is cursing mo. His last breath! He is gone, gone for over ! I am free I" Tho changes in hor voico, ranging from dread to tearful joy, her passionuto words, her eloquent gestures, all these combined to bring tho very Fcene before my eyeß. I stood spell-bound, andeven.'as sho described it, seemed to Beo the unfortunate man battling for dear lifo in tho rushing stream, growing every moment weaker and weaker. As the woman's lost wild exclamation, "I,"ono for ovor ! I am freo !" rang through the room, I seemed to hear tho cry of despair drowned as the waves closed over the wretched man's head. I knew every detail of my brother's fate I turnod to leavo tho room. I longed to get away, and if possible to banish tho events of tho day from my mind. It was not given to mo to bo Stephen Morton's avenger. My hand was on the door, when the woman sprang to my side. Sho grasped my arm and drew me back into the room. " Look," sho whispered. "Do you see it? Thero! The faco—that awful face ! It has come at last to me. The dead man has conquered. There ! look ! His eyes glaring, his mouth mocking. Now it has once come I shall see it always—always. Look!" . . _ No, I was not doomed again to see or to fancy I saw that face. Its mission, so far as I was concerned, was at an end. But the look of concentrated horror whioh Judith Despard cast at the wall of the room beggars description. Then with a piteous cry she fell at my feet, and seemed to strive to make mo shield hor from something she dreaded, I raised her. She broke from my clasp, and again fell upon the floor, this time in paroxysms of madness. My tale .b ended. That night she was removed to a private lunatic asylum, where for three years she was kept at my expense. She died raving mad, and frem inquiries I made I know that from the moment when it first appeared to her to the hour of her death the face of the man sho had killed was ever with Judith Dospard.

Sedatives and Sleeping Draughts.

A word about sedatives, or sleeping draughts. It is impossible to spoak too strongly against the habitual uso of these. They should never bo taken without a doctor's orders. Chloral, though not pro ducing the ill effects which follow opium, is depressing. One or two teaspoonfuls of the syrup is thedose foranadijlt. "Chloral drinking "is a fearful evil, against which none can keep too sedulous a guard. Of bromido of potassium, five to twenty grains is the ordinar/adult dose. Jt is a powerful sedative to the 'nervous system, but should never be used as a habit, for, besides other evils, it leads to an eruption on the skin. Laudanum is the preparation of opium most employed by the public. Children are exceedingly sensitive to it. One drop of laudanum has killed an infant. It should never be taken without a doctor's prescrip tion. Dover's powder, a ten grain dose for an adult, is useful in checking a cold. Every tea grains of this powder contains one grain of opium. Therefore, it should be used with great caution. Elsewhere we have warned mothers against all manner of soothing syrups for their babies, unless such are ordered by the doctor.—"family Pfl?to,," io ** &ujm Wotfe,"

EXPERIENCES OF A DETECTIVE.

BY JAMES McGOVAN,

Author of " Bn.otJ.irr to Bay," " Hunted Down,'1 and "Strang-; Clues."

THE CHINESE CHESSMEN.

The place where the murder took place is a small manufacturing town more than twenty miles from Edinburgh, which I may name Grangely, -£_. in this town the man murdered, Josiah Fletcher by name, had enjoyed the reputation of being the best hated and worst-tempered man in the com munity. Ho was a bachelor, and so I sup pose had never got tho corners rubbed off him ; but, apart from that, ho appears to have been grasping and stingy in the ex treme, especially jvhen tho sufl'eror happonod to bo poor and not able to retaliate. I was called oiit to investigate tho affair becauso thero woro sovoral vory peculiar cir cumstances which the local police could not unravel. These can be readily summed up. Flotehoi- was an old man, and had at one time been a hedgor and ditchor, but by a life of rigid economy had saved enough to purchnso a rickety tcnomont at ono end of tho town, which was just falling to pioces, A small factory happonod to bo built near tho building, and Fletcher lot this ruin of his in singlo rooms to the workers as dwelling houaes. As a landlord ho was known to oxaet tho uttermost farthing, and never to part with a ponny till forced. Ho was hated by his tenants, und continually quarrelling with them aud others, so I guessed that the task of forroting out tho person among all these who had token upon him the crimo of ending Flotcher's existence would be no easy ono. Thero was surprise, oxcitemont, and busy speculation on tho ovont in tho town, but, so far as I could find, no pity or regret. Fletcher had lived alono in a two-roomed cottage at tho outskirts of the town, and occupiod himsolf chiefly in tilling a largo garden, the produce of which he sold. A woman camo once or twico a week to clean tho house or help him in the garden, but she did not sleep in the place, and was alwaya gone by eight or nine o'clock at night. It was this woman, Sib Chapman by name, who discovered the murder, at least twenty four hoars ufter it had been committed. It woa hor day for coming to work for Fletcher, and she was there by six o'clook in tho morning. She found tho door shut, but after knocking for Borne time, and getting no answer, sho tried tho latch ond found tho door unlocked. Thinking that Fletcher had gone to the garden nt the back, sho fearlessly entered, intending to begin her work ; but she got no further than the kitchen, which was also Fletcher's sleeping ploce. She saw the form, of the old man stretched on tho earthern floor in an awk ward heap, face downwards, with a crimson pool beneath his iaco, and big splashes of the same colour at;>&fferont parts of the floor, as if tho unfortuWe man had stag gored or walked about id tor receiving his death wound. S0&10 of those splashes had dried, thus indicating tha* the crime had been dono somo time. Horrified almost into fainting, tho woman bent over tho prostrate figure, and at once guossed, from tho waxen pallor of tho featuros, that life was extinct, and wisely refrained from raising tho body, or moving it in any way. Indeed, thoro was a gap in the throat per fectly visible from the side, which gave her a wholesome aversion to any closer inspec tion.

" The old nioosor's dead—murdered very likely for his siller, or may be jist cut his am throat in ano o' his mad fits," was her first reflection. " I hopo nobody will think it's mo that has done it I"

Away she ran to the noarest houso with the startling news, and in a vory short timo she had no lack of company or assistance in the houso of tho deceased. Thoso were all promptly turned out as soon as the police appoarcd, accompanied by a medical man. Fletcher's form was raised, and pronounced to havo been lifeless for twenty four hourß.

The cause of doath was a long nnd deep wound in the throat. Thore woro no decided traces of a struggle having taken place, but two very striking facts were speedily dis covered. The first was that no knifo or othor lethal weapon could bo discovered near the body, or in tho house, stained with blood, or in any way indicating that it had beon used in tho commission of the crimo ; and the socond was a crimson footstep on the cam'stanod floor, near tho spot whore the body had been found, which showed clearly tho marks of about a dozen round tackcts or hob-nails in tho solo, and nearly tho whole outline of an iron heel.

Tho body of Fletcher had no boots, but slippors, on tho feet; and tho boots lie usually woro, which wero found by tho firo, woro so caked with eartli about tho solo and hocl that it would havo beon impossible to get a print of the hob-nails or heel without first having beon cleanod. Bosidos, in size and shape tho footprint of blood on tho lloor did not match the foot of the dccoased, oven if tho nails had not boon caked ovor with his garden dolving. The foot whioh had made the imprint appeared to have stopped inadvertently into tho crimson pool, and thonco on to the unstained portion boyond. It had stepped in the direction of the back room, and the window of that room, which looked into the garden, waß found open. To follow tho footprint was now tho object of tho investi gators. No traeo of it was to be found in the back room, but there wore confused and rough footmarks on the earth outsido the window. A bunch of pansios had been trodden on and crushed, and further across tho ground there wero indications of a pause having been made und tho earth disturbed. A little scraping up of the soil with a hoe which happened to be lying near soon laid bare a long clasp knifo, open, stained with blood, and ground to a keen and razor-like B.arpnosa of odgo and point. This knife was readily identified by Sib Chapman as having belonged to Fletcher, butshe said nothing at tho timo of an incident which had impressed that fact upon hor memory. Thore was now no doubt in tho minds of the police that a murder had been committed, but bow it happened that Fletcher had beon slain with his own weapon they were unable evon to guess. What the object had been was not so mysterious. By the direction of Sib Chapman an inspector of an old meal crock hiddon at the bottom of a woodon chost by the fire was raado, and a bundle of bank notes, which Sib declared she had Boon thoro a fow days before, had vanished. Tho only other thing missing waß a valuable set of ivory chessmen, which I found had quite a history of its own. The police of Grangely traced no one, arrcßted no one, and finally sent for mo to help thorn out of tho difficulty; and the first thing which staggered mo in tho cnso was this missing set of chessmen. It soomed strango and incomprehensible to me how such a man as Fletcher should havo hod such a set as they wero deacribed to bo, for he know no more about tho royal game than tho man in tho moon. He did not evon play draughts, and though said to be cracked on many points, he waß in regard to money, or valuables likely to produce money, ono of tho wisest of the wise. When first Sib alluded to these Chinese chessmen in my hearing she said— " Oh, it was them that Fletcher and his freend Bailie Broon was aye quarrelling aboot. A cuisin o' Fletcher's deed in Edinburgh and he got the chessmen, but Bailio Broon, who's a relation, said that he Bhould have got them, and bo they wero aye feucht, fouchtin' aboot them." "Do you moan that they actually came to blows about the chessmen ?" I asked, wondering why Bailie Brown had not beer looked after sooner. "No, but they were aye canglin' and quarrelling, and at last Fletcher tell me no to lot the Bailie in if he earn near tho hoose whenl waß there. He said the Bailie-.vanted to buy the chessmen, but they conldna agree aboot the price ; and an day I saw him busy sherpin' his knife on a razor-hone, and he tellt me it was to cut Bailio Broon's throat if ho bothered him ony mair." I questioned the woman closely upon this point in case she might have inverted the facts • but no—she described Fletcher sharpening the knife and grinding it to a point, and all the while malignantly gloating over the fact that' it was for Bailie Brown's throat the keen edge was being prepared. That being the case, how did it come that the knife had been used with such terrible power against his own ? Bailie Brown, I found, was a man c position and worth, very much beloved and of a gentle, kindly disposition, and i' did seem improbable thqt such a igan shoiild suddenly change into a ferocious murderer and robber. The general opinion of those who had heard the circumstances detailed was that the Bailie had right and justice on his side in his claim to the chessmen, but being a man averse to going to law he had submitted to his grasping relation. Now I did not think it likely that anyoneso circum stanced would have taken a man's life and then carried off the very thing likely to direct suspicion to himself, even if he bad Jjeea geaaefl to tjie act in _, mojaeat of

frenzy; but I thought that there could be no harm in seeing tho Bailie and getting a littlo information from him on tho subject.

Another point was that though tho meal crock had boon emptied of money, nothing in thoboxhadbeendisturbedorunduly tossed about in laying thotroasurobare, thusclearly indicating that tho robber had somo know ledge of tho hiding place and of Fletcher's habits.

I found the Bailie's house to be quite a contrast to that of the deceased. It was _ fine largo building at the end of the town, and not far from a factory which owned Mr Brown as the chief proprietor. I went to the houso, though it was midday.and asked for the Bailie. I was invited to enter, but shortly the servant reappeared with the statement that the gentleman I Bought was at the factory, but would be sent for. While I waited a curious idea came into mr head, and I rang a bell at my elbow, ond asked the servant to oblige me with a look at a pair of the Bailie's boots. Quite a change came over the girl's face at the roquost. I had givou no name, and she appeared to think me not nearly such a great man when I asked for the boots. "Oh, you aro a shoemaker?" sho said, and forthwith sho brought mo a pair of boots of the kind known as half Welling tons.

Thoy were very light and neat, and much smaller than I had hoped for, and thore was not a trace of a nail or iron licol about thorn. From tho stylo of tho boot I took the Bailio to bo a neat littlo man, and not the burly, rough customer whom I had pictured as the murderer.

"Ah, you'vo brought mo his host boots," I remarked, anxious for information ; "it's tho course ones I wanted—the heavy ones, with tackets in the soles."

"Tackets?" cried tho girl, in evident amazement. " I nover saw them, and I clean all tho boots he has." " What! never saw tho nails in his boots?" " Never ; lie wouldn't put on a boot if it had so much as a sprig in it," she said, with great firmness. "I'm sure of that, for I onco had to tako 0 poir back on that account,"

"Then you may tako these away, "I remarked with a smile, "for I am not the ahoomakor after all."

She seemed to believe mo, and alao that I was an escaped lunatic, for she snatched at the boots and vanished with groat ala crity. I could hear hor and her mistress in tho lobby, spying me through the keyhole, and speculating in whispers as to whether I was likely to be dangerous or outrageous.

Presently the Bailie arrivod and walked into the room—a slight, little man, as I had pictured him. 1 gavo him my name at onco, and that Beemod to upset him a littlo. 1 cannot say that it was a look- of guilt which instantly Hashed across his faco, out it cer tainly was one of excitement ond uneasiness. He seemed to tremble and fear me. What had he to dread if he was innocent ?

"I suppose you'vo como to talk about Fletchor's death ?" he remarked, at length, whon ho had bustlod about tho room a little and so recovered countenanco to somo oxtont. " Isn't it very singular that that sot of chessmen which he and I have often wrangled over should have been taken away ?" " It is singular, and I wish to give you some description of those chessmen, for they will bo much more easily traced than money." " 1 heard of the money boing taken, too," he hurriedly continued; "but in spite of that, I have an opinion quite opposed to that of tho police horo. 1 don't suppose you would care to hear it ?"

1 quietly negatived the supposition, studying his faco closely the while, and not making much of tho attempt. " Well, my opinion is that Fletcher com mitted suicide," rejoined the Bailio, with great firmness. " And afterwards ran away with his own money and the set of chessmen—eh ?" I answered, with an incredulous smile. "No, no; that won't do. The modical man declares that he could not livo fivo minutes with a wound like that in his throat; so how can you account for a knifo being buried in the garden ?" "Was it, actually?" he said, with a Beared lock ; for we had kopt many of tho details quiot. " It was, 1 assure you, and we havo pretty good evidence that the deceased did not put it there."

" I beliovo that I 1 believe that!" criod tho Bailio, fervently. "It is impossible that he could have put it there," ho added, with extraordinary docision, "I know that—at least, 1 think that," he stammered, moro nervously. I sat watching tho man, and analysing and weighing his words, but utterly failing to sum thorn up. Ho seemed to bo inno cont, yot to know somothing of the crime ; to bo oagor to havo the mystery cleared up, and frankly communicativo, yot to bo keoping something back which might assist me materially. I questioned him regarding the chossmon, and loarned that thoy were a valuable sot, elaborately carved as only tho Chineße^can carve ivory, ond worth at least £1 a piece. "I've had my eye on thorn for years," he addod, " and it was always understood that 1 was to got them when my friond died, but Fletcher was first on the ground aftor tho death, and he stuck to them out of sheer Bpitofulness. Ho had no use for thorn, and was misorly enough to bo eager for tho money they would bring, yet he would not gratify me by selling them oither to me or to anyone else who might havo resold thorn to mo. Death alone could relax his grasp. A Bingular fact is that I meant to have Bono over and reasoned with him on the subject; indeed, I resolved to do so only a night or two boforo his doath, but—but," and here he wavored a little and seemed confused— " I nover had tho chance."

"You mean that you had not timo or opportunity to go over?" I said simply. He crimsoned to his oars, and hurriedly answered — " No. I moan that I never again saw him in life. Oh, ho was mad, undoubtedly. It is not good for man to bo alone. I still hold most positively that he committed suicide." "Do you not think it more likely that Borne needy tramp had taken his life, and afterwards robbed the houae ?" "No ; for how could a tramp know that a sot of chessmon were worth carrying off? There are circumstances which_ I cannot account for, but I am sure it. was a suicide."

Of courso ; it was to his interest to get us to believe that when he was under sus picion himself. He was right about the chessmen, though; tho samo thought had occurred to mo vory early in my investiga tions ; and now I began to wonder if the Bailio could havo employed someone to steal tho chessmen, and if that robber, boing reßisted, had unexpectedly found himsolf a murderor. I left tho Bailie, and made some inquiry for any disroputablo character about tho place likoly to bo so employed, but I was told that the num ber of such characters wus logion, and made little progrosß in that direction. I had to return to Edinburgh unsuccess ful, and a day or two later received a note from Bailie Brown, enclosing a cutting from the advertising columns of one of the Edinburgh daily papers. The advertisment ran something like this— " ' To Cumo Collectors.—Bare set of Chinese chessmen for sale." The address given was that of a well known Edinburgh dealer in such articles ; and the note of tho Bailie was to the effect that if I thought it worth while I might, being in the city, go and see the chessmen, and ascertain if they were honestly come by, and whether they resembled the set stolen from Fletcher's house, some peculiarities of which he described. My surpriso and bewilderment at tho curious discoveries which followed may be faintly imagined. I went to the address of the dealer, whom I had spoken with frequently before, and, aftar some idle talk, asked to see tho Chineße chessmon which he had ad vertised. "I knew there was something coming, McGovan," he laughingly responded. "I look upon you as a kind of stormy petrel; when 1 see you walk into my shop I know there's mischief not far behind. But for once you're off tho scent. There's nothing wrong with that set of chessmen, for I bought them from a bailie; no lees." He brought out a curious casket as he spoke, which I examined with the most intense interest. It answered the descrip tion given by Bailie Brown in the most minute particulars, and on opening it and -looking over somea:' the pieces I found other points confirmed. "Well, what was the name of the precious bailie who sold you those ?." I asked at length, ' "Bailie Brown," wgs the prompt reply. '' He belongs to Grangely." "Impossible !" I got the word out in a shout, for the answer was the very last I should have oxpeotsd, I must have looked strangely horrified, for the dealer got alarmed at once, and said— "There is something wrong, then, after all! And yet he gave me all the particu lars, told me he was a relative ef Leighton Brown, who, I had heard, had just such a set of men, and got them at bit deatji, w^ieh happen?, not long age,"

" What was the man like?—little, slight figure, dark hair, gentlemanly manner ?" "No, not tho least like it. He was a very common man for a bailio—big strong fellow, with sandy coloured hair, sun browned face, and heavy, taoketed boots." " Tacketed boots ? you're sure of that ?" I cried, with great eagerness. " Quite, for they made noise enough. He was clownish in everything but the price he screwed out of me for the chessmen. He knew their value, I tell you." '* Would you know him again ?" •'Ay, in the dark. I wondered why ho kept his right hand so much in his trousers pocket, but when he did take it out I saw the reason—he had by some accident lost the middle finger. A blind man could tell him by that." I took possession of tho chessmen, and while doing so chanced to not'ee that some of the carving on the outside of the casket had got filled with earth, thus silently in dicating that it had been buried in the ground, and then but imperfectly cleaned. Tho earliest train took mo to Grangoly, where my first visit was to Bailio Brown. I had now no idea that ho was guilty, and told him nil I had discovered, and showed him the chessmen, which ho identified al most at a glance. Yet it was apparent to mo that tho nows agitated him powerfully, even before I had described the man who had so boldly taken his name and title. When I did describe tho man, and came to tho right hand wanting the middle finger, his pallor and concern increased. " It looks like there was a plot against mo," he feebly remarked, "but my con science is clear, whatever may happen. I think I know who has done it—it's Willie Melvin."

" Willie Melvin? Who and what is he ?" "Anything or nothing—an idle scamp who's been in gaol nearly as often as there ure hairs in his head. He's a great poacher, and I wonder I did not think of him before, as it was said that Fletcher used to help him to get rid of the game. It was sent into tho city hidden among Fletcher's cabbages and curlies." I had no timo to lose. I got the Bailie to describe the position of Willie Melvin's home, and started for it alone, though he advised me strongly to take a man with me. The house was quite outside the town, a wretched hovel, with a garden in front, and a pig grunting in its sty noisily. A man stood by tho sty, smoking lazily, with his right hand in his trousers pocket—from force of habit, I suppose. I had no doubt of his identity, though I had never clapped oyes on him before, and went up to him boldly, saying— " Hullo ! Willie Melvin, I want you."

I suppose he must have seen me, though I had not soon him, for he instantly changed countenance He was but a big lump of cowardice after all, for he submitted to be handcuffed without a word.

"What is it for? he at last sullenly in quired, while a slipshod woman whom I took to be his wife came out and stared at ua without any groat surprise. "The murder of Josiah Fletcher," I quiotly answered. He laughed loudly and carelessly. ■' Y*oa can tak' yeroath I dinna dao that," ho said, with a look of relief, "though maybe I ken wha did," " I suppose you did not do the robbery either," I returned as cheerfully. "The chossmen, I suppose, went and buried themselves, and then dug themselves up, walked into Edinburgh, and sold the meelves to a dealer on purpose to get you into trouble ?"

His jaw fell, and with a painfully crest fallen look he relapsed into a silence which lasted till I had him at the station-house, boforo tho Fiscal of the town. He had no very intelligible explanation to offer, and was locked Up, while I took some men out to his homo with spades, and turned up a part of his garden till wo came on a bundle of bank notes enclosed in a tin soapbox, and pretty well Boddened with the burial. At first Melvin had no explanation to offer regarding the treasure in his garden, but seemed to conclude that the Chinese chess men wore rather strong for him, for he asked to bo heard by the Fiscal a socond time, and then made an extraordinary statement and accusation.

Ho had boen passing along near Fletcher's cottage at a late hour, whon he was sur prised to see Bailie Brown leave the cot tage in great haste, and so excitedly that he omitted to close the door after him. After waiting for some timo, Melvin passed through the hodgo, crossed the read, en tered the houso. All was dark, and in cross ing thekitchon floor hoßtumbledand fellover something on tho flcor. Striking a light, ho found that the "something" waa Fletcher's body lying in a pool of blood. Close by lay an open clasp knife. " Bailio Broon has murdered him and left tho knifo there, so that it might look liko a suieido," was Molvin's exclamation ; and he immeditaoly began to consider how ho might make profit by the discovery. Ho thought of extorting black-mail from the Bailio as tho price of his silence, but finally concluded to let that scheme stand over for a littlo till ho saw how things worked, and meantime to take what loose money the crock happened to contain. He then re membered about the chessmen, and decided to take them too, ao that the guilt might be tho better fastened on the doer of the deed, Bailio Brown. Then, that it might not be mistaken for a suieido ho lifted the knife and plunged it point first into tho garden behind, stamping it down with his feet and scraping some loose earth over the spot. The chessmen he first buried in a field at the back of Bailie Brown's house; then, hearing nothing about them, he lifted them and buried them in his own garden, and finally took them in to Edinburgh and sold them in the manner already desoribed. This queer story was utterly ridiculed, but it chanced that ono of the gentlemen present during Melvin's omission of the declaration remembered distinctly meeting Bailio Brown on tho night in question coming hurriedly from the direction of Fletcher'B cottage. Other circumstances cropping up, there was no alternative but to arrest the Bailie. It was now that gentleman's turn to make a strange state ment. Confronted with the declaration of Melvin, ho admitted tli^t he had been in the cottage of Fletcher at the hour stated, and had left it in the manner described. He had gone to argue some point about the chessmen, and, receiving no answer to his knock, had lifted the latch and entered. All was dark, and bo ominously still that he took a match from his pocket and struck a light. Fletcher was lying on his face, quite dead, as described by Melvin, aud with a clasp-knife lying open near his hand. He was greatly horrified, and so struck with the fact that he was there under suspicious circumstances that he decided to say nothing of the matter to onyono, which resolve ho acted upon until forced to declare the truth for his own protection.

This statement, I fear, was credited quite as littlo as that of Willie Melvin's had heon before it j but two singular facts turi-od up a fow days later to modify the scepticism. At the salo of Flotoher's effects a Bihlo was discovered, having pins stuck into certain leaves, along with a bit of the deadly night shade, a toad's foot, and some other auxiliaries of witohcraf t. In tho same book was found a written paper, in whioh Fletcher deolared that he was being tor mented by Bailie Brown by means of evil spirits who haunted him day and night, and were always striving to get hold of his knife that they might cut his throat. They might yet succeed, the paper went on to declare, but if they did his blood would be on the Bailie's head, and the murder lie at hia door. He was nevertheleas hopeful that some charms which he was working with tho Bible would invert the whole, and make his enemy's plotting fall back upon his own head.

The. second confirmation came from a relative of the deceased, who had come from a distance to wind up his affairs, and who produced several letters of Fletcher's couched in the same insane terms, and full of ravings of the same description. The conversation and manner of Fletcher for some time before his death was also recalled in evidence, and at length Bailie Brown was set at liberty. Willie Melvin was put out of mischief's way by being about the same timo sent to prison for five years, for his chare in the work. As for the chessmen, they are now in the Bailie's pos session, and he tells their story a great deal more proudly and better than I have dono here.

Mrs Weldon has agaiu wen her case against Dr. Winslow, the "mad doctor," after displaying a cleverness in the conduct of it which is boybnd praise." She has been one too many for the lawye.rs, ai_d even sometimes for the judgo ; a,nd hpr success \Va3 received w^th great satisfaction all found. It shows tholunacy laws to be still effectual for the protection of the publio, and will put an ond to the carelessness of people who aeem to think that it is no shame to put an exaltablo person among the insane. The Bum recovered is small—only £500 ; but from the point of view of the public that is all the better. There is less reason to expect that the verdict will be disturbed.

MURDER OR SUICIDE?

A Vardlct on Circumstantial Evirtonoo,

(FROM OUR LONDON CORRESPONDENT.)

A .stranoe murder trial has just been comploted at the Old Bailoy by tho judge sentencing Elizabeth Gibbons to death for murdering her husband. This case has caused a vast amount of interest, because the only evidence against tho condemned woman is of the most circumstantial char acter. Now that the trial is over, the friends of the poor woman are leaving no stone unturned to effect her respital, and they will, in all probability, succeed in getting the death-sentence commuted. The facts of the case are thoß briefly stated in the " Daily Telegraph." Mr and Mrs Gibbons resided near Hayes, in a house not situated very close to any other, and they seem to have been without a servant living with them at the time of the tragedy. The hus band was a contractor, agod sixty-three, and his wife was ten yoars younger. Thoy had been married, as wo have said, thirty-seven years, and had no family. On tho fifteenth of Novomber, at midnight, Mr and Mrs Gibbons woro in their bedroom, preparing to retire to rest, when the deed—be it mur der or suicide—was committed. Shots wore tired in rapid succession; and Mrs Gibbons rushed out of tho room, after having at tempted, as she deposed before the coroner, to prevent hor husband from injuring himself further, When Mr Parrott, tho surgeon, arrived, he was not sure that the unfortunate man was dead, and could not tell for certain, in consequence of the cries ot grief which the wife continued to utter. She appeared to be in the deepest distress, and had to be taken out of the apartment where her husband was lying. Mr Parrott also testified that while his examination was going on Mrs Gibbons threw her arms round her husband's prostrate form and kissed him. It is evident that if she had shortly before fired four shots at him with intent to murder, this appearance of affection and grief was only simulated, unless we imagino her to have been suddenly stricken with remorse for her crime. It seems that the surgeon saw the wife afterwards downstairs, and asked her if Mr Gibbons had any trouble on his mind which would account for his committing suicide. The conversa tion that followed is of much importance, as an attempt was made duri«g the trial to show that the accused had given differ ing accounts at various times as to what occurred in the bedroom. In answer to the questions as to what cause there could bo for suicide, Mrs Gibbons told a tale about the girl who lived at Taunton, who had previously been an inmate of their house, and to whom her husband was attached. She left it to be inferred that it was through grief for tho departure of this person that her husband had tried to take his own life. Mr Parrott further questioned her as to whether she had done anything to prevent the suicide, and she replied, acoording to his testimony, " Yes, I threw my arms around him, and fell with him." It was noticed that there were stains of blood on the night-dress of the wife, and there were also one or two smears high up on the wall. As regards the pur chaße of the revolver, it seems certain that tho deceased bought the weapon himself, and he habitually kept it under his pillow at night, if his wife's tale is correct. To Police - Inspector Morgan Mrs Gibbons stated that one shot had been fired while she was in the room, and that while she was rushing downstairs for help she heard the sound of the others. To a female friend the next morning she appears to have said that their were two shots fired before •he left the room, and two shortly after wards. The prosecution made a point against the prisoner when tho medical wit ness affirmed that it was impossible for any such interval to have elapsed between the different reports, as any ono of the wounds would have been almost instantly fatal. Such discrepancies as these in the wife's account of the tragedy formed a very heavy count in the indictment against her. It certainly is not a little strange that a person who had been present at such a scene should not have given one single and unvarying account of what occurred. We must, how evor, remember the appalling naturo of the tragedy, which may very well have disor dered the memory of its sole witness. That a woman's testimony is blotted with some contradictions rather tends to make lawyers believe in the honesty of the witness as a general rule, and here there was a special reason for inaccuracies in the wife's story in the terrible shook which she had just received.

Looking at all the evidence in the case, there seems to be a strong probability that the verdict of the jury is right. On the other hand, it is not a case in which satis factory and moral certainty is attainable. The crime, if crime it was, was a peculiarly cold-blooded and treachorouß ono, and deserves the worst punishment of the law. If we admit the story of the jealousy on one side, and the unconsoiousness of danger on the other, all the materials for a tragedy were present. There was a motive, the desire of a woman to be avenged for supposed wrong done to her by her husband. They were in a lonely house, and not another soul besides themselves was within its walls. The hour was very late, and the conditions were as favourable as they oould have been to a crime being perpetrated without risk of discovery. If the first shot had been fatal, it is reasonable to suppose that Mrs Gibbons would never have beon put on her trial at all. In that case the mysterious Bhot in tha back would not have been thore as a tell-tale of wicked purpose, and the mere fact that the wife was known to be a little jealous of her spouse could not have given rise to more than vague suspicions. If Mr Gibbons, a pros perous contractor, and apparently a usually happy aud jovial individual, w(\a not foully murdered by the hand of his wife, the question was, What reason had he for taking his own life? These were the only alternatives left to the jury, as it was impassiblo that the revolver could have gone off four times in succession by a puro aocident. On the part of the prosecu tion, it was shown that Mr Gibbons was in seemingly good health and spirits. Mr Adams, the Hayes stationmaster, who walked with him tc his bouse on. the evening of the murder, stated, that the deeoased showed no si_m_ whatever of despondency. It seyns, nowever, to have been admitted that he had received an injury to his head by falling off a truck, and a witness stated that one of his relatives was insane. Thus it is just possible that madness suddenly arising iaay have caused Mr Gibbons to do^t^y himself. His wife stated that he had appeared odd for somo time, and could get no sleep. The motiyea of qll instances of suieido that occur canno.t always be determined, but it is not for that reason that they can bo supposed to be murders instead. In this mysterious case it was the concurrence of a number of circumstances pointing to guilt which sealed the fate of Elizabeth Gibbons, and especially the assertion of Mr Parrott, tho Hayes Burgeon, as to the impossibility of ono of the shots being self-inflicted.

The Talking Dog.

It was in a Market-stroet restaurant. A solemn man entered, followed by his d?g> seated himself, and asked for th _tiil of fare. It was given him. " \Yh"ya would you like to have, sir ?" osiked the waiter, flipping the table with his napkin. The dog meanwhile had climbed upon the chair on the other side of the table, and was gravely regarding his master. " Well," Baid the solemn man. reflectively, " gimme two fried eggs, turned over." "Gimme the same," sa\d the dog. The waiter gazed at the ftityis^l \vitb, amaze ment mingled with ho'fro'.. Tho solemn man continue^;—'.'.The* I guess you can gimrao a ejiribih steak, very rare, with fried ppfetoea." " Gimmo the same," said tho dog. The waiter's face assumed the colour of cold boiled veal. " Cup o' coffee, plenty o' milk," went on the solemn man. " me the same,' said the dog. TV waiter shuddered, and, turning, fled for tho kitchen. A man with a squint, at the adjoining table, was much intoi-astcd in the scene. He had observed it closely, and finally spoke to the solemn man, "It must ha' dqgu a fearful lot o' work to learn'that dag to tajk, mister." "It was," said the solemn man. " I shoulid smile," said tho dog. " What 'ud you take for him, now?" said the man with the squint. "Wouldn't Bell him," sajd _$ ■ solemn man. "You'd better not,'I '_,_{[_ ___ c dog. The man with thq squin-*, was muc h impressed. Ha began. 'mairing wild offers, and when he reached l.OOOdols. the solemn man relented. " Well," said he, "I can't refuse that. I hate to part with him, but you can have him." " He'll be sorry for it," said the dog. The man with the squint drew a cheque for the amount, which ho gave to the solemn man. The latter was about leaving when the dog cried out, "Never mind—l'll get even. I'll never speak again." Hb never did. The gentle man with the squint was proprietor of a Plme and Freak Museum on Market-street. The solemn man was a, ventriloquial crook, »..-•' Argonaut."

A LADY'S LETTER FROM LONDON.

Feminine Facts, Fancies, and FrlvolltiOS.

(BY ELISE.)

London, January lßt, 1885. Dear Mr Editor,—Christmas, thank goodnesß, is past, and Christmas festivities nearly over, so that I have a little time to spare to write you my monthly letter. I have been dreadfully busy all December, for we have been entertaining a host of Tom's brothers, cousins, and other relatives. You in New Zealand can have no idea of what this really means. First of nil, thcße country cousins have to bo taken shopping, and in London at this time of the year, that alone is an appalling task; then they must soo all tho sights of the metropolis, go to all tho theatres, and sec every pantomime; and lastly, they havo to bo fed. I think this is the hardest task of all. Fancy providing dinner for fourteen every day for a fort night, instead of lour ; my little resources have been taxed to the utmost, but now it is all over I look back with satisfaction, while I look forward with pleasure to tho summer holiday I hopo to spend with these dear country cousins. I do not think I havo ovor sent away more Christmas cards than I have dono this year, and I am certain I havo never re ceived so many myself. On Christmas Eve each post brought scores, and when I came back from church on Christmas day, I found my table covered with them. I say I think people are rather over-doing it when they send so many cards. Some people send a card to every member of a family. I saw a rather amusing instance of th_3 the other day. A cousin of mine who has four dear littlo girls received on Christmas Day an envelope containing thirty cards. On examining them she found that they were from the six children of a friend, each of whom had sent a card to my cousin and each of her children.

Some of tho cards sent this year are simply lovely, and I know many of them cost two or three shillings each. These ex-f pensive ones are, of course, most elaborately finished, but the prettiest ones I have seen are simple water-colour paintings en rough cartridge paper. The words on many of these cards are simply idiotic, while somo of them are open to misconstruction. For instance. That wicked Tom sent a card to a couple who aro for ever quarrelling over trivial matters, the words on this card wero, " Wishing You a Peacoful Christmas." I dare say you havo seen some of thoso Christmas cards in which sparkling snow is represented. I hoard the other day that this snow consists of powdered glass, which is put on the cards by girls. Fine particles of the glass float into the air, and get into the lungs of those poor girls, and eventu ally cause their death by consumption. This seems very dreadful, but I am assured that it is true, and that English girls will not do the work any more, so that the manufacturers have to employ Gorman women for the purpose. I went the other day to see the " Truth"

toys at Limmer's Hotel. Every year tho • proprietor of "Truth" gives.» prize for the most ingenious toy constructed by ono of his j, readers. An immense number of toys are always sont in. They are first exhibited^ . and thon distributed amongst the children in the various London hospitals. Shis year, in addition to an enormou3 col lection of toys, "Truth" had received ' from a benevolent gentleman. 8,000 new sixpences for distribution with the dolls, &c., whilo a lady had sent the money to purchase several largo musical boxes. As for the toys, they included every variety from dolls and wooden soldiers to rocking horses. Ono of the most remarkable was a large modol representing tho sands at some seaside place in the height of tho season; on these sands was placed a motley crowd of children, nurses, mammas, mashers, bathers, niggers, donkeymen, and all sortsof interesting figures. Another very clever tojj was an ingenious model of two artilleryman seated on a gun-carriage. In my opinion ' the prettiest thing in tho show was a realisation in miniature of the cottage made of cakes in Grimm's fairy tale of " Hansel and Grethel." The snow that covered the ground was sugar-icing, with a lovely layer of brown cake beneath. The roof of the cottage was also cake, andthe chimneys were layers of chocolate. The front was made of rows of macoaroons, large round. pink sweets and chocolate bonbons, and in the doorway stood a witch -like old woman, who camo out, as all readers of Grimm remember, to ask who was eating pieces out of the roof of her house. Another very amusing toy wa3 a model of Robinson Crusoe's hut.

There is not much now music out this Christmas, and what thore is is not very brilliant. Tho " See-saw Waltz "ia played at every dance now, and a new one entitled " Shadowland," by Hugh Clendon, is very popular. The latter, however, will not come up to our old friends " Myosotis," and "Vonotia." I heard a very good set of lancers the other night entitled "1884." This included all the popular airs, and was very lively to dance to. Two now waltzes called "Hypatia" and " Eurydice " aro very well spoken of, but I have not heard either of them yet, so I cannot say what they wre like. I havo heard two very pretty contralto songs lately; one is called " Only a Little While," and the othor "The Winter Story." The latter is written in Michael Watson's best style, and will, I expect, become a great favourite. The Drury Lane Pantomime has alto gether come up to expectations, and on the morning after its production all the papers raved about it. I have not timo enough to desoribo it at length, but I may say that it Includes among other scenes the abode of tho man in the moon, the Emperor of Morocco's pavilion, and a glorious proces sion, the Lord Mayor's Show, which out shines even the procession of Kings ond Queens of England, and the fairy tales whiohAugustußflarris gave us lastyear and the year before. The transformation scene representing earth, air, fire, and water, is also a wonderful production.

And now for a few words about fashions. It is no use my sending you • accounts of ordinary costumes, for we are wrapped up in furs, while you lucky antipodoans are, I suppose, revelling in muslins and other light fabrics. But I havo before mo the de scription of somo wedding dresses which may perhaps interest you. Tho brido is to wearawhitsvelvctd.oss, trimmed with white fur.'a close-fitting white plush jacket and bonnet to match. Tho dross is to bo simply made, quite plain in front, with a band of fur edging the bottom. Tho train, which rests about a quarter of a yard or* tho ground, has a similar trimming, only narrower in width. Tho sleoves of tha jacket reach only a littlo bolow tho elbow, long gloves, fur trimmed, meeting tho jacket sleoves The bouquot is to bo of real orango blossom and tiny oranges. It will be tied with white satin ribbon, and the loops and ends will roach to the bride's feet. Tho bridesmaids' drosses aro to be of whitonuns* veiling bordered with ruby volvot, jackets to correspond, and bonnets of white silk , trimmed with the fashionable garnet bead embroidery; garnet combs will be worn in the hair at the back, brooches, earrings, and bangles being all set with those fashionable stones. The bridesmaids will also wear ruby silk stockings and satin shoes of t_B same colour, embroidered with garnet. beads and white kid gloves correspondingly beaded; their bouquets will bo of dark red camellias. Tho bride's mother is to wear a garnet-coloured silk bonnet, and mantle of garnet velvet embroidered with garnets. A married sister of tho brido U to appear in steol-colourcd velvet, made to show a great deal of tho palo pink silk which servos aa lining. Tho drawn bonnet is lined with pink, and there is a pink aigrette outaide. Tho dpVnan mantle is fashioned so as to shew plenty of the quilted pink Bilk in ' terior.

There is a fashion, now coming into gene ral use, which I think is a very gcod ono. It k this :— Tho bridesmaids afc „ wedding instead of all wearing dresse.s of the same colour and make, are droned in contrasting colours. The groups ' joo k very pretty, and much more pleas^ than if all tho brides maids wero dressed in ono tint. Much soreness 0 f feeling often exists between brf'iosmaids when tho choice of colour ia left to one selfish girl, who chooses what suits herself without thinking of hor com panions at all. Now, however, each brides maid can select her own colour, and much heart-burning and jealousy is avoided.

A singular examplo of method in mad ness was afforded recently in Yorkshire. A railway signalman went out of his mind, suddenly, so far as thoso about him could judge, and departed from the scene of his duties. Before doing so, however, he had put all the signals at "danger," and thua rendered an accident impossible. His fore thought is suggestive, nevertheless, of un. comfortable ideas of what would have hap pened had he been mad in a less uncommon -ay.

THE AUCKLAND EVENING STAR, SATURDAY, FEBRUARY 14, 1 88 5.

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FLIES AND BUGS, _KtiM..i___wu, __h«, «_,_., u_. but, _oj*»_, clilpwunkj,- cleared out by " Hough oo