DONALD'S PLOT. A STORY OF An Unfaithful Guardian.

By SYIiVANUS COBB, Jr.

CHAPTER 111.

THE WIDOW'S STORY. It was a hard thing for Georgo to sco the villains pulling away beyond his reach ; but what could he do towards apprehending them ? Setting aside the need there was of immediate attention to the dear ono who looked to him for succour and safety, the strength of the enemy was a good and suffi cient reason against any attempt at capture. Alford was eager to fire at the rascals as they pulled away, but Bortram begged him not to " Let us bring these sufferers to a place of safety and repose as quickly as possible," he said. A moment latter ho added, laying a finger upon his friend's arm : "Does it not strike you, Dick, that tho villains pushed off as they did in fear that help might come to us from the fort; It would be folly for us to tarry here to fire upon them unless wo intended to givo them battle if they ehou'd return, which they would be sure to do when they had dis covered that wo were likely to remain But tho plea was not needed. A low wail of discomfort from Doris, as she tried to wring a portion of the water from her drippuig skirts, at once called the attention of the young men to the situation of herself and her maid, and, with further thought of nothing else, they turned to givo them Less than quarter of a mile away, towards the town, was a stable where a comfortable carriage could bo procured, and, while Ber tram and Alford took charge of the girls, ! Mark Nottling hurried on in advance, prom- i ising to have a carriage ready by the timo ; the othors should arrive. Doris would have i chesrfully walked home, claiming that the t exerciso, in her dripping contrition, would do her good, but George would not listen, t He felt that the soonor sho could bo at home \ aud her garb exchanged tho bettor. "We will walk briskly to tho stable," ho i Bttid, cheerily, " and I think that will be i walking enought for you in your present t situation," £ Doris had tried to pour forth her thanks, 1 but she was so exhausted by the late ordeal t —her lungs had become so pained by the c wretched atmosphere within the closed sack, t and her whole nervous syst em was so shocked c —that she spoke with difficulty, especially \ while walking. Her lover, seeing how the i effort effected her, bade her cloße her lips c until she could speak more easily. There were many questions he would have asked t had she been in fit condition to answer, but t he put them off, content to wait a more ] favourable opportunity. c The stable to which Mottling had gone c was not on the Btrand, but on the street \ running parallel therewith, next to the I eastward. When they reached it they found 1 the carriage in readiness—a closely-covered a coach—with two horses attached. The \ girls were assisted in, George and Dick c following them, while Mark took his seat on the outside with the driver. Thus they ] were driven to Doris's home, where the drip- k ping pair were got indoors as quickly as c possible ; and, as good luck would havo it, j Doctor Bloom had not yet gqpe. -v Outside, as soon as the eirls had been as- f. sisted in, Bertram would have explained to i, his friends why he could not invite them to v enter, but they would not allow him. They understood the situation perfectly, and only , desired that he would give his attention to , the young lady, and afford them enlighten- * ment, if he could, on the morrow. , * " I shall be anxious," said Alford, " until i I know that Miss Ashton has taken no serious : harm ; and, if you can do so, we should like f much to know the meaning of this outrage." £ "I fear," returned Bertram, with o D dubious shake of tho head, " that it will not F be in my power to properly answer your D last question, but I will do tho heat I can." ° With this the two friends entered the ? coach and were driven away, while Georgo JJ entered the house, and ascended to the *• chamber, where he found the doctor in n attendance upon the invalid. He did not enter, however, without first knocking and f' receiving a nod of permission from Mrs |. Driscoll, who still remained at her post. * Had tho thing been possible, Dr. Bloom J would have prevented Mrs Ashton from *' hearing any partof the story of her daughter's ° late adventure, but as it was very evident £ that the intense anxiety consequent v pon re- a fusel would be worse for her than tho ' story itself could be, he allowed tho young J man to tell it, simply giving him a sign T that he should be as calm as possible, and J make the story as simple and unexciting " as he could. George took his seat by the bedsido, and " taking one of the thin, wasted hands in his *J strong, warm grasp, he began the story. Ho * told the dear mother that she must not be 'J alarmed. Doris had not been harmed in the '' least; and he was going on to tell how he had -j fallen in with his two friends, and how the three of them had overtaken the abductors, v when a door was opened and Doris herself 3' appeared. She had put on dry garments, * and her glowing face, and happy, healthful a look, teld very plainly that as yet no evil f result bad manifested itself. "Now, my darling mamma, don't you bor- JJ rowone bit of trouble or anxiety. George " has bravely saved me this time, and I will be very careful that the bad men do not have ?. another opportunity to lay their hand 3 upon *' me." t' The'anxious mother was not to be put off, n however, until sho bad heard tho whole story; and when that had been gained she J> had Btill further questions to ask ; but she '< was in no hurry. She was evidently waiting ° for Mrs Driscoll to go; not that she feared to *' trust her, but she cared not that the secrets v of her family should be known further than * woe needful. The kind watcher had heard » the whole of tho story as told by Doris, and * having duties of her own to attend to, she jj shortly thereafter took her leave, begging h thatthey would nothesitate to call her when- D ever she could be of service. If she had v mistrusted that her further presence was not wanted she made no sign, nor did sho take * offence, ? Marking the quick eagerness with which jj Mrs Ashton turned to her daughter after f Mrs Driscoll had gone, the doctor quietly h laid a band upon her arm, saying : r "Easy, easy, my dear lady. Do not let 8 your feelings excite you." 1 She returned him a smiling look, at the 8 same time shaking her head. c "Do not fear for me, doctor. You cannot s promise me long life, and I must make the Jj best use possible of the short time remaining. - Let me have my way, please." ' She turned again to her daughter. j " Doris, the time has come when wo must j have an understanding. I want you to ' think clearly, and answer me truly." ( "0, mamma!—and youwill answer me ?" • " Yes, my darling; I will tell you all that 1 is known tome. But there are important ' things entirely unknown to me. I have never deceived you—never." "Mamma! I did not mean it. I never < thought such a thing. I only meant that ' you had refused to tell me certain things which I had wished to know." " I think you are in error, darling. Ido ■ not remember that I ever kept from you anything of importance that was clearly known to myself. But enough of that. There were two men engaged in the outrage this evening ?" "Yes." * " One of them was tho same man who has met and spoken to yeu heretofore?" "Yes; lam sure of it." "What did ho look like? Did you see his face ? " No; his face was covered with a mask ; bat he was the same man, I know." " You heard his voice plainly ?" "Yes." "Of what country is he, do you think ?" " 0, he is an American —what they call a Yankee—l am sure." "I have feared it." " Dear mamma, what does it mean ? What in the world can anybody in America want of me ?" The sick woman reflected for a little time, and when she next spoke there was a change in her voice. The tones were deeper and more solemn, taking on a hollow sound - a sound that caused Doris to start and to shudder. She caused them to put another pillow at her back, so that she might sit more nearly upright, and then said : " Doctor Bloom, 1 am going to speak in your presence, as I wish you to hoar. I wish that you should know the story, because I am sure you will give help to my dear child if you havo tho opportunity." The doctor promised that he would do so, and Mrs Ashton proceeded : "Doris, you know that your name is not Ashton. You wero only three years of ago when your father died, and only five whon I became Mrs Ashton. After my second mar riage you formed an attachment so deep and so strong for your step-father, and his love for you was bo ardent, that it seemed almost cruel to call you by another rame, At all

events, you soon became known aB Dons Ashton, and so we have called you to the present time. But it should be so nolonger. Hush ! Do not interrupt me, I will tell you why I say this." , , At this point the doctor gently moved Doris aside and stood in her place. _ " My dear Mrs Ashton," he said, with un usual earnestness, "I entreat you to put by this conversation for the present. The effort is too much for you. I tell you truly —it is dongerous." Sho looked at him reproachfully. "Doctor Bloom, have you not told me that I was dying }" '• 0, no ! no ! no I You did not tell her so! You did not,-did you, Doctor?" _ The man of medicine looked first at Dons and then at her mother, the latter look seeming to say, "There—now you've done it !-just the thing I would have avoided." But thero was no help for it. As soon as he could collect his thoughts he took the startled girl by tho hand, and said, with paternal kindness : " Doris, you should know the truth. ¥our mother has asked me—sho implored me—to tell hor my belief, and I have told her. Sho is vory low; her life is ebbing fast." "Tell hor all," urged the sufferer, huskily. " Let her know tho worst. Tell ber what this new pain at my heart moans." " It means, Dons," said tho doctor, after a brief pause, " that your mother is liable to fall asleep at any moment. She will know no aufforing, and may have no warning. That is true!" "0, mamma ! mamma I" " Dear child !My own darling !—do not make mo unhappy. If the end is near, let us prepare for it and meet it bravely. Help me to bo happy, Doris. Let me see you smile once moro. 0 ! let not that sweet smile fail me when I need it so much." Mother and daughter exchanged kisses, and when tho latter had called a gentlo smilo to her lips—a smile that lurked in the dimples and beamed in the golden eyes— the former resumed : "I said I would toll you why you should henceforth assume your true name. Now sit you here and listen. What I shall tell you will not all be new to you, but I must make a connected story of it if I would bo understood." At this point Mrs Ashton took a sip of cordial, and after a little reflection she went on : "Little moro than seventeen years ago,

in eightoen hundred and forty-three, I was in Paris with my father. He was an Ameri can—from the State of New York—and a sea captain. His ship was at that time lying in Marseilles, loading for India —for this vory port. In Paris I became ac quainted with Ralph Owen. Early in our acquaintance I learned that he was from one of the central counties of Virginia, whoro I had relatives living—relatives whom he knew. That drew us together, and a natural result followed. I loved him with all my heart and soul, and I knew that he loved mo truly and sincerely. He told mo that he had a confession to make. He had already been married, and the death of his wife and child—the death, it had seemed to him, of all that be had in the world to love—had stiicken him severely. But his heart had not failed, nor had his love died out. He could love as warmly and truly as ever. Enough for me to say, we were married, and a truer mutual love I do not think ever existed. " Ralph had little to tell me of his early lifo. He assured me that no taint of any kind was upon his family name, and that no cloud had ever cast a shadow upon his personal character. ' Further than that, he was amply able to support a wifo end family. He said he was the owner of a large plantation, tho income from which was considerable, besides being sure. " I havo often wished that I had asked him more particularly about his house in America—about Ids property there; but I thought he shrank from speaking of it, and I never pressed it. Mind you, he never re fused to give me direct answers to my ques tions ; but those subjects which he seemed to avoid I preferred to leave untouched. So ho passed away, without giving me im portant information which ought to havo been mine. But this was not intentional Dn his part. lam as confident as I can be .if anything not directly proved to me that tie had planned to give me all the informa tion I could have desired. I will tell you how it was. " With Ralph, when I first met him in Paris, was a man named Jack Clearstar. fie had beon adopted in childhood by Ralph's father or grandfather, I forget ivhich, and the two had been brought up .ogetber from that time, and no brothers jould have loved one another more truly. &s they grew up,the adoptod child of his own iccord became servant to the other. Ralph, ivhen I first knew them, seemed to regard lack more as a companion than as a Ber rant, yet no page, or valet, or esquire ;ould have been moro watchful of another's Interests, nor moro ready to serve, than was Tack Clearstar in his relations with my lusband ; while to mo his devotion was of ;hc heart. Ralph and I were married in Paris, and I was ready to go with him any rvhere, but he wished to go to India in my 'ather's ship. Then it was that I heard Tack say, with hia hand over his heart: Go whore you will, Ralph Owen, I go with ron and servo you, pay or no pay, until you ,'o-jreelf shall cut Hie knot.' And he came villi us ; and ho was as tender, and gentlo, md kind in his helping of me as any maid lould havo been. 0, Doris, how many lours did he bear you in his arms, even vhile you were a nursing infant ! True leart ! There were not many like him ! "We arrived here in Calcutta in the early ipring of 1844. On the first of the follow ng June you were born. O, I was happy hen — very, very happy ! And so tho nonths of happiness passed on into years. " And now comes the first of that mystery vhich has given mo trouble, in greater or ess degree, ever since. One day, when we md been residing here about a year, Jack ;old ub he had reason to believe that a man vas watching our movements Or, I should ay, he told my husband. They had not me nded that I should know. It came fo my tnowledgo accidentally. Later, Ralph told ne that we need not borrow trouble. He md seen the man, and he did not think he neant any harm, and after a time my fears yore set at rest. " Time passed on until you, Doris, were ;hree years old. It was on the first of June, if forty-seven, that your father went with ridnoy Ashton up into the Pubna jungles 'or the purpose of hunting tigers. Ashton iad become the one friend upon whom he relied—the friend that was to him all in jll; and I know that the love on Sidney's part was reciprocal. Of course, Jack Clear itar went with them. Ralph would have as joon thought of going away without his »rms as without Jack. There were two jthere in the party, besides several servants. They found a large bungalow entirely un- Dccupiod when they arrived, though other hunters took up their quarters there on the Following day, and among those hunters I have reason to believe was our mysterious enemy. Sidney was confident he heard Tack say so. But, be that as it might, we know he had no part in the harm that came to Ralph. .... .., . , " It was on the third day in the jungle ; Ralph had killed a large tiger, and was eager for the sport. They were in a dense thicket—a tangle of vine ond wildwood when he (Ralph) was attracted by what ho thought the crashing of an animal through an adjacent, cover. Without thought of danger-without precaution of any kind he plunged on, going a considerable dis tance from his comrades before he was aware of it. Ho had his rifle in his hand, ready for instant use, making his way through the tangle almost upon liib hands and knees. In that position, it is supposed, he stopped to listen. ~,.., ~ " Now it so happened that the othei hunting party had come out, and with then: wore several native Shikarees whom thoj had hired to guide and serve them. -One oi these Shikarees-a man who had long beer known and employed, and always implicit}} trusted, by Europeans—chanced to be it that same tangle, probably drawn v by the same sound that had attracted Ralph Ho caught sight of a moving object in thi dense thicket, and never dreaming that an other hunter could have reached suchaposi Hon, fee raised his piece and fired. He hoc fired at my hushand ! The bullet-" At this point the sufferer was forced v stop She covered her face with her hands and the doctor would have urged her to pu off tho remainder of bcr story to anothe time, but she would not listen. •' Ah ! n time like the present," she said, and th present alone is mine." And presently sh r°S« The bullet pierced his lungs, going er tirely through his body, but he did not fal. He called for help, and those who went t him-Jack being the first-met him strugg ing to work his way out. Of the Skikare who had fired the fatal shot I will only sa ho at once came forward and acknowledge himself as the author of the mischief, an offered to give himself up if they would tak him. He had known Ralph and had hunte with him, and when he knew whom bo ha shot his grief waa frantic. Ralph forgav him then and there, earnestly ontroatin that on thought* should be for a momcr entertained of punishing him for an act i

which he was cot at all blameworthy, Said he:

"'lf ho had not shot mo as he did, I might have shot him in a moment more, for I had heard him and was only waiting for a eight.'

" As soon as possible Ralph was borne to the bungalow, where he had the service of a good surgeon—Doctor Fulton, of Fort William, who was one of the party. His first question was—Could "he live to reach homo ? The doctor shook hia head. ' Tell me the truth,' said the sufferer. And he was told that he could not live beyond twelve hours.

" Oh I if he had told me, before he went away, what ho told those about him in that hour, he never Bhould have gone on that fatal expedition. He said he had antici pated what had come to pass. So strongly had it been impressed upon him that he had gone in a measure prepared for it. 0 ! how well did I remember, when thoy had told mo, how ho looked, and how ho had acted and spoken, when he hold me in his arms, and kissed me and bade me adieu, before he went away. He clung to rue ns though he could not let me go, and he came back, after he had gone from the houeo, to claim one more kiss.

" When ho had come to the knowledge that must die, he called Jack Clearstar to his side and gave him a messago for mo. So much wo know, though the message was novor brought to me. Sidney heard him speak to Jack, and knowing that ho had a private messago to deliver, ho withdrew to another apartment, leaving Ralph and Jack alone togother.. The conference lasted half an hour, at the end of which time Jack camo out, his face wet with tears, scarcely ablo to speak ; but ho managed to deliver a messago to Sidnoy Ashton. Ralph wished him to come to him quickly, and to come alone.

" Sidnoy went in. Ah !ho knew then how deeply he had loved Ralph Owen ! He hold tho stricken man in his armß and re ceived his dying message. Aye, his dying messago it provod, for the faint whispering had not ceased from his lips when thelight wont out, and my child was fathorless !"

CHAPTER IV. A rKOMISE TO THE IvyiXG. It was a considerable time before Mrs Ash ton felt equal to going on with her story, The doctor sought no moro to deter her. but Doris, seeing how weak and faint she was, and how deeply moved, begged of her that she would give over tho attempt until another time. It was without avail, how ever. " Only the present is mine," sho said again ; and she was determined to make the most of it. The sufferer drank moro of the cordial, and, after a season of rest, she mate a sign for attention, which was quickly given. " You know," she said, with an unwonted fire in her sunken eyes, " that there were people who wondered how I could marry so Boon after losing such a husband. 0 I how heartless it was I Ralph had been gone more than two years when I became Mrs Ashton. But what matters that? Why did I marry him ? First, because I loved him. And how came Ito love him ? Ah I there it is. Ralph's dying messago to mo, given by him to Sidney, was to the effect that thenceforth I should look to him—Sid ney Ashton—for counsel and assistance. Further than that, holding Sidney's hand, and looking up into his tear-wet fnco, ho said to him : 'Dear Sidney, if I could think that in the time to come you would feel lovo enough for my Mary to take her to your heart and to your care for your own, I should die happy and content.' What the answer was I cannot tell you. Almost two years had passed before he told mo of the circumstance at all, and by that time wo had come to love one another well and truly. Yo* know he had been my only source of help. To him I had been forced to look for guidanco in matters where I could not guide myrelf; and to his unceas ing care and devotion was I indebted for most, if not all, of my enjoyment abroad in society. You, Doris, have really known no other father ; and it was natural, when ho was taken from us so cruolly, that you should mourn for him, and hold his memory in your hoart, as your father in truth and in deed." Again, for a little time, the widow covered her face and thought. Sho thought of her second husband—so good and true; so gontlo and so kind ; so fondly loving and so devoted—thought ef him as she saw him last, proud of his newly won rank of colonel, kisting hor and leaving her for tho purpose of going to put down a serious mutiny of a division of nativo troops in Kajmahal. The mutiny was quelled, but Colonel Ashton gave his life to the work. Twice the dying woman tried to rosumo hor nnrrativo without being able to fix in her mind tho point sho would preeont. It was not lack of speech, but her thoughts appeared to be in a whirl, and difficult to arrange At length sho called Doris to her aid, and asked her to reach in and take from beneath her pillow tho little silkon bag which was there. Tho bag was brought forth, and given into her hand, after which she said : *' I told you that Ralph, when ho was dying, called Jack Clearstar to his side, and held a long conference with him ; and when Jack came out of the dying man's presence, Sidney Ashton went in, and in his arms Ralph breathed his last. Vory shortly after it was known that Ralph was dead, Jack drew Sidney aside—drew him into a small, close apartment, tho ono door of which ho closed and secured—where he placed in his hand this beautiful piece of carved gold, saying as he did so -i remember tho words as Sidney repeated them ; and he assured mo that ho remembered them woll—said Jack : '- ' Mr Ashton, I want you to tako chargo of this thing for Mrs Owen. Her husband gave it to mo for hor, and be Bure it is of importance. It may be stolen from me. Don't laugh at me. I know I have an enemy in this bungalow, and I have reason to believe that if he could know of this crucifix he would try to get it; and suppose ho should hire one of those Hindo jugglers to do his wor*. Why-I might loose it — that's all ; but he won't think of your having it.' " At that point Sidney asked him what reason he had for believing that his enemy would suspect him of having the article, wherupon Jack told him that ho was sure he had aeon the man's dark face at the win dow, as he was in tho act of taking the crucifix from his master's hand. Then ho went on to caution the major—Sidney was only a major then - that he should keep the thing Bacredly; said he : " ' There is a mystery about this bit of gold —a mystery which I alone of all the world, now that poor Ralph is gone, can un ravel. Do you keep it sacredly, and give it to Mrs Owen, or give it back to me so that I can place it in her hands, when we are once move in Calcutta, and I will then tell her the secret.' " Sidney aeked him why it would not bo best for him to givo him the Becret with the objecr., so that there could bo no danger of its loss. But Jack shook his head, saying that he had given his solemn promise that he would give the secret only to the lady hereelf; and it wa-t a promiso which he dared not break. So Sidney had to_ be content with the possession of the crucifix, which he put away in his bosom, whence it could be taken only with his life. " And the crucifix came Eafely to me; but alas ! tho secret is a secret still. The mystery has not been unravelled. It was early morning when Major Ashton set forth forhome, with my husband's body in charge. That day they reached as far as Jessore, where they put up for tho night. On the next morning, when ready to set forward, Jack Clearstar was not to bo found. They searched high and low, and far and near, but not a trace could they discover. A man ■ who had been upatmidnight, and for an hour . or two thereafter, reported that during his watch ho had seen sevoral men leaving the : caravansary by one of the side entrances i who had in charge a man apparently unable ' to walk. He said that upon going to coo i what the movement meant, he was told that i a man—one of their companions—bad been . bitten by a cobra, and thoy were going to ) take him to the temple, where was arenowned - fakir who might cure him. "Of course that must have been poor 1 Jack. He had been captured by the enemy, and had been carried away, whither d no ono could tell; and from that day to , this wo have never hoard a word nor found t a trace of him. 0, it was cruol !-it was r dreadful ! I did not think so much of the o loss of the Eecret of tho crucifix as I did of c the fate of the loving, faithful friend who c through all the years had been bo true and so loyal; ever ready to lend a helping i- hand, always bringing sunshine with 1. him when he came, and leaving fond o memory behind when he went away. 1- Whether he was killed or not we could not c be sure, though we thought not. If they y had only sought to take his life I hey could d have done it without a moiety of the trouble d they really took. Yot, there was another o consideration : They might have carried d him off as thry did hoping to obtain the d crucifix, failing in which they might after c wards havo taken his life. But speculations g are vain. He was lost to us, and with him it we lost tho key with which to unlock the n mystery of the golden crucifix.

"Here it is. it is a beautiful thing. What is its mystic lesson ? O ! when I think how a word from Jack Clearstar might rend the veil, my heart aches, and I feel in my soul to cry out against the fate which so cruelly robbed me !"

It was indeed a thing cf beauty. It was a crucifix of virgin gold, four inches in length by three in width, and three-quarters of an inch in thickness. These were the dimen sions of the crose proper, the surface of which was beautifully engraved with a re presentation of flowering vines. The figure of the crucified Saviour was a master piece. It Stood out in full bodily substance, every muscle and cord and vein being dis tinct, tho whole comprising a work of art seldom equalled, and probably never ox celled. Upon its upper part was fixed a ring by which it could be suspended from tho neck, should its owner wish co to wear it.

Dr. Bloom took tho crucifix and examined it critically. Ho balanced it in his hand, then studied its beauties, and finally hold it to the light and minutely oxamined every part, particularly tho edges and the angles, but no trace of any secret could ho find,

"I do not think," he said, holding it on tho ends of his fingers, in which position he could m"3t clearly estimato its exceed ing weight, "there can bo any hollow place in it. It is too heavy to admitof it. And, moreover, it must bo solid gold. I can conceive of but one possible source of good not apparent on its surface."

With sudden interest the widow asked him what he meant.

"Did Ralph Owen over intimate to you that he was tho possessor of moro property than he had given you to know ?" The failing woman could not answer with direct assurance, yet Bho thought he had done so. He had never told her in so many words of wealth, but ho had talked of pros pects that wero golden. In truth, she did not think he had been tho possessor of moro property than he had ever told hor of, though she had no reason to think be bad been wealthy.

"Ono quostion more," the doctor went on : " Did you gather from the word which came to you with this sacred emblem that it was of most peculiar value—that it was of more worth than appeared on tho out sido."

" Most certainly, yes," cried tho widow, with energy. " Sidney said that Jack had told him that it must be guarded sacredly, Ho could not tell how much might depend upon it. It was in short a priceless treasure."

"Well," said Bloom, still holding the crucifix upon the open fingers of his right hand, "there arms of the cross and this body of tho Crucified Ono might hold in concealment a considerable fortune in tho shape of Old Mine diamonds. Ido really think, if it were mine, that I would open it and be satisfied. At all events, if there is substantial, material benefit of any kind in tho thing, it must be found by opening it." " But how can it bo oponeu ? I have ex amined it in every part, as did Sidney. It has been sounded, and weighed, and twisted, and thumped, and pounded, all to no purpose." "I should havo expected all that," was tho doctor's laconic response. " The man who mado it did not intond that a stronger should open it without force. In short, force a'ono will show its interior. If it were mine, I should apply the chisol and mallot, or else try the compound blow-pipo and carbon-flame."

Mrs Ashton uttered an exclamation of horror. She would as soon think of cutting ber own hand off as to think of violating that sacred talisman : for as a talisman she regarded it, and Doris already looked upon it in the same light. No, no; thoy would not so abuse it for the world. It would be the meanness of avarice

" All right," said the man ef medicine, with a nod and a smile, at tho same time giving tho crucifix back to its owner.

"But," he added, soberly, "allow mo to assure you that you will nevor solve the mystery of your golden talisman until you have mado up your mind to find its internal arrangement."

" It will not bo broken open while I livo," the widow solemuly declared ; " for I know that my child will so far respoet my feolings. And now," sho added, extending tho treasure towards hor daughter, "to your keeping, Doris, I consign it ; and with it I wish you to take your father's namo; and I will tell you why. But, first, promise mo that you will hold this talisman as a sacred trust. I have not lost tho hope that Jack Clearstar may yet bo living. If ho is, and tho power should over bo his, bo sure ho will not fail to find you, aud thon tho mystery will be a mystery no more."

Doris took tho crucifix, and restored it to its soft leathern bag, after which sho gave the promise which hor mother had re quired "And now," pursued the loving parent, with a yearning look upon her datllng, " I

havo an important communication to make. A month before your father wont upon that fatal expedition into tbo jungle, ho must havo had a shadowy premonition of tho coming evil. Ono evening, after I had put you away into your bed he drew mo into his lap, and told me that he had a solemn injunction to lay upon mo. I remembor his very words as though his Mps wero now speaking them. 'Mary,'said he, ' I some times feel that 1 havo not long to remain with you hero bolow. Should I bo taken away, you, of course, will livo as you please. Tho property I own in Virginia is now in care'of my uncle. So I havo always called him. Ho was my father's cousin ; so, I supposo, properly great cousin to me. However, his name is Donald Owen. Should you want money, write to him and he will send it. I shall writo to him to do

" At that point ho got up, and wont nnd got ono of Donald's lottors and gave it to mo, as a guide to direct me in writing. Thon he took mo again upon his knee, and went on : ' Donald is now sixty years old, and, as a matter of timplo courtesy, 1 call him uncle. I have mado ample provision for him, as ho knows, so bo sure he will not fail to answer promptly your calls for help.' " Here Ralph became more serious. ' My darling,' he said, ' this is the charge I givo you. You shall live where you ploaso ; but, should you be called away to join me before our child is settled in life, you will see that sho makes her way to my old home in Virginia, where she will be sole mistress of my estate; and I assure you it is well worth her going for it, oven to that dis tance. O, would that I had a son to in herit it! But, ns that may not bo, we must be content that Doris shall represent mo, Tho future may bo kind, who shall say ?'

" Then he threw his arms around my neck, and, drawing down my face and imprinting a warm, rapturous kiss upon my lips, be added, with an earnestness that was proyer ful: ' O, my own precious wifo ! Promise mo that if it shall bo in your power, you will see my ehr'ld in possession of her birthright.' " And I gave ;him the promise. Doris, will you help me to keep it ?" The trembling girl knew not what to say. She lcoked from her mother to her lover, and pressed hor hand over hor heart as though Bhe felt a • pain there. In this emergency George came to hor assistance. He had been upon the point of opeaking twice before, but he spoke now.

" Dear mamma," he said, standing by the bedsido and taking the widow's hand, " why need Doris take the name of Owen ? If you aro to leave us, surely you will givo her into my care and keeping. If you will do co, I will givo you my promise that I will go with her to Virgiwa and there find a home, if it shall appear that it's for her interest to re main there. Give me this dear hand, and I will cherish it as a sacred trust while I livo, You know me ; you know if you can rely upon me." The face of tho mother brightened. "George—if I give you Doris for your wife, you will go with her to America, as you have promised, and you will fail not to make search for poor Jack by every moans within your command 1 "I promise, most cheerfully. Doris's good shall be my good; her home shall be my home; and I give you my word,—if we find inducement to remain in Virginia, our homo shall be there. With regord to Jack Clearstar and the mystery of the crucifix, 1 will find the one and solve the other, if it can be done. At all events, no possible means to that end shall be left un sought or untried." A light came to the wan, sunken face that was like sunshine.

"My dear children—God bless and keop you both ! I shall die happier for this. There i—take her, George, and be good to her—honourable and true I know you wiH be, I only beg of you that you will bear with her foibles, and seek to give her strength where she is* weak. And you, Doris, will do all that may become a true and loyal wife. I know your hearts both ; and if I did not feel that this was for your lasting happiness, I would not do it."

As she spoko sho placed the right hands of the youthful twain together; sho blessed them once more, and then sank back ex hausted.

As yet George and Doris gave no thought to their own happiness. They simply ex changed kisses after their hands had been united, and then forgo all else in atten dance upon their mother. When Dr, Bloom

saw that the woman was inclined to rest ho gave a fewdirectiona touching her medicine, and having promised to call early in tho morning, he took his leave. Doris followed him out into the hall, where she took him by the sleeve, and begged of him that he would tell her what he thought of hor mother. Was she dying?—and, if so, how long might she live ? The doctor would only say, "Be watch fulandbekind. Lotherdowhotshewillwith in the bounds of reason. She may live sev eral days; and she ia liable to drop away at any moment. Her heart is seriously affec ted, and a very slight cause may bo sufficient to bring the end." He reflected for a brief space; then taking Drris by the hand, ho addod, " As matters are now arranged I would advise that you ask Bortram to remain with you through tho night. It will bo better so, I feel euro "

"O ! thank you, Doctor. I know he will stay ; and his presence will be a support to me."

We oan readily imagine that tho youthful lover made no objections to obeying the in junction of tho physician. Ho said ho would stop, and for a time he and Doris sat together by the si''o of the dear mother. At ten o'clock Loila was sent away to her bed, her young mistress urging upon her that sho Bhould got what sleep she could, so as to be ready to relieve hor when the need should come. Had Doris been alone, the faithful maid would have doubtless refused to leavo her, butasit was, sheoboyedwithout further remark than simply to urge upon her that she should call for relief as soon as she felt need of sleep.

When Leila had gone Doris and George sat hand in hand, contemplating the faco of the sloeper. It was near the hour of mid night when Doris whispered, scarcely above her breath :

" How sweetly she sleep.?. She has not breathod so oasily for a long time." George responded that ho had noticed it What a happy thing it would be if it should be a sign of improvement. "O, if she could only be with us, and see our happiness for a little while."

Shortly after this tho clock upon tho mantol struck twelve. As tho last silvery note died away upon tho midnight air the sleeper awoke with a start and gazed upon the couplo at hor bedside. "AVhero is Doris?" " Here, mamma." " Where is George?"

" Hero I am, doar mother."

" Good !I am glad you aro horo. Georgo, did you not givo me a promise ?" "Yes, and I will keep it unless yeu for bid mo."

" No, no, I shall never forbid you. You must go to America. Doris, you will holp motokeoptho faith with yourfatbor. Whon I nm gono you will loso no timo in seeking tho estate which is properly yours on tho other sido of tho great ocean. George will help you. He will point out the logal stops necessary to be taken ; and, further, you will be his wifo before you go. I havo your promise ?" " Yos, mamma. I will not fail. But you will not leavo ua yet. George and I were just speaking of how much better you ap peared," A faint smilo was the only answer, and in a momont moro the dear woman was aguin asleep. As tho quaint littlo clock on the mantel struck the half hour aftor midnight tho slcopor gavo a sudden start, and a low, painful cry. Both the watchers wore quickly bending over her, asking what was tho matter. Was eho in pain ?

"It is nothing. Let mo sloop. Good night, my darling I George,—good night I God bless and keep you both ! Thoro—tho pain is nil gono. Good—good—-" Sho soomed to fall asleep before sho could finish tho sontence. Her right hand rested over her heart, hor loft by her sido ; a sweot smile rested like a shimmer of light upon tho cloar cut features ; and there was no moro oflbrt in her breathing.

"How restfully sho sloops," said Doris, in a whisper so low that hor companion barely caught it. Georgo mado no answor. He aroso and looked down upon the still, white fnco ; then he bent his ear until it almost touched the bloodloss lips.

" George !"

"Hush ! Darling, our mothorslcops with the loved ones gono before !"

And, heart to heart, in fond, confiding cmbraco, tho youthful twain mingled thoir tears over tho dear ono whom thoy had so truly and tendorly loved.

(To be Continued.)

Singular Litigation

A Goldon Cup With a Most Remark-

able History.

I am going to toll you about a lawsuit over a cup worth $10,000, although it U no bigger than, say, a good-sized oream pitcher. In the year 1601 Don Juan Fer nando do Frias de Valexo, Duke do Castillo, was Spanish Embassador to England. While in that country ho negotiated a treaty of peaco between James I andhis own sove reign, nnd in recognition of which tho former monarch mado him a present of a chalico of massivo gold, tho handiwork of some arti.-t. of tho thirteenth or four teenth cotitury. Not only was tho material valuablo and tho workmanship wonderful, but it was set with precious stones antl or namented with two remarkably clear onamols representing the martyrdom of St. Agnes. Around tho foot was a Latin in sciption reciting the reasons cf tho royal gift. Tho Embassador was a pious man, and when ho got back to Spain he had the "saint ciboiro" solemnly consocrated by tho Archbishop of Toledo ; then ho cavo it to tho chapel of Santa Clara, in tho Convent of Medina do Pomar, near Burgos. The cup was accompanied by a deed of gift stat ing the conditions on which it was made, and these-were, that at no timo and undor no circumstances, oven though it were with the consent and approval of the Popo, should this communion cup be sold, or ovenloaned, undor t>.e penalty of a right arising, in that caso, were to his heirs to reclaim it from tho convent along with a lot of othor voluablo presents. Three centuries afterward, that is to say, in November, 1883, the Baron Pieho, a well-known French col lector of art curios, wrote to tho Duke do Frias, a descendant of tho Embas sador already named, that ho had purchased in Puris from a Spaniard an onamolled saint-ciboire of tho 14th century ; that the vendor had assured him that it had once be longed to the famiiy of the duke, and that as somoofhisfriendsquestioneditsauthenticitv, he would bo grateful for any information on I the subject that he might possess. The duke was aware of tho existenco of the cup,' also that it had boon presented in former times to the nuns of Medina do Pomar, but ho did not know anything about tho condition on which it was held. Whon the duko commenced turning over his family papers for the purpose of finding somedocu ment which would set at rest tho authen ticity of tho cup, he tumbled on a copy of this old deed of gift, and, supposing that the cup must have been stolon from the convent, he wrote to the Superior about it. Now, as a matter of fact, the convent had sold the cup, through the inter mediary of the Spaniard, to tho French Baron, and when the duke's letter reached tho abboss her first roply was evasive, She finally confessed, however, that she had made tho sale through tho interme diary of a priest, but though tho convent had received tho money sho was not aware who had purchased the cup or where it was. In hor last letteron thesubjocttheabbess im plored the duke not to make any oxposure of the disagreeable affair, if for no other reason than that of saving the good charac ter which had always been enjoyed by the community of Santa Clera de Medina de Pomar, which had been forced to make this sale through an absolutely pressing need of money. It seems that the convent only got 81.000 out of the $1,300 which the baron paid for the cup, the rest having been retained by the priest as commission. But tho cup is to day worth §40,000, and that no doubt is the reason why tho duke has commenced suit to recover possession of it. Tho baron holds that under all the cir cumstances he haa a right to its ownership, and that tho duke and the Mother Nun will have to settle the matter as best they can. —From letter in " New Orleans Pieayuno,"

Woman's Friend.—A mother's advice te mothers: "ICeop by you, for yourselves and daughters, Mrs Dr. Stuan's Female Remedies. I have nevor met with any medicines co well meriting the name of' Woman's Fi iend.' They are invaluable for the weiknrases, headaches, nnd other troubles ex:periencod by femal. B." Read.-[ADVT.]

Tho demand for the great American remedy. Hop Bitters, in thin part ot the world ban bo como so great that the Hop Bitters Co., whoso linad-quarlcrs are at Rochester, Now York, U.S.A., hove been compelled to open a laboratory in Melbourne. It is in charge ot Mr M. 11. Van li-.rgu. a gentleman or several years' experience with this Company, and ihe trade may be .assured o£ receiving goods equnl to the parent, house, and tho most courteous treatment* The H. 13. Co. havo establishments at London, Paris, Antwerp, Bcljjiuin. Breda, llnliaud, and Toronto, and their Ameiican Hitlers are probatly tho best known medicine in the world.

" BUCIIU PAIBA."-Quick, coinrl-tc curt-, oil niinojUll Ktdlicv' lilaJdel mill Urinary 1.i5.m.i... At lliiij-^lsts. Kianc>, jm»ui« j __ m^l ., lU _. IWI:Jr 4 Co . p ..^> u .,, Auckland.

Narrow Escape of the ss. Duke of Devonshire.

Two Largo Vessels Seen to go Down.

(From "The Colombo Times.")

Tine steamer Duke ot Devonshire, which arrived to day, experienced for five hours tho roughest weather over met with by the captain (27 years at sea) in the Gulf of Aden, Two steamers were seen to founder at the same time, but no assistance could be given, as they oxpeoted their own to go clown every moment. The Duko of Devonshire was chartored by Government to bring troops out to India, but tho order was countermanded at the last moment. It was fortunate, as with such a number of men tho hatches could not have boon kept closed, and tho steamer must have inovitably foundered.

Dr. Edwards, Burgeon of tho Duke of Dovonshiro, gives tho following thrilling account of the passago through the cyclono: — "On June 3, going through tho great channel, as tho morning advanced there were signs of atmospheric changts. Tho weather became squally and unsettled, and the barometer went down fast, tho mercury standing at 29.70 at 10 a.m., at noon 20.50, and at 1 o'clock 29.20. During this un mistakoable warning tho wind increased most furiously from the north, and rain camo down in torrents. Tho sea arose with marvellous quickness, hugo waves rearing themselves perpendicularly and breaking in a mass in mid-air. The horizon was soon obscured by tho heavy mass of vapour held in suspension, and soon it was impossible to define anything over the ship's side; sea and rain meeting aloft ; tho foaming crests of tho now truly gigantic waves breaking off and dashing over the ship in overwhelming torrents. Tho vessel was now straining aud quivering from stem to stern, huge seas breaking over her stern and threatening to wash away tho whoel-houeo; tho davits of tho jollyboat were unshipped, and tho boat itself smashed by the terrific violence of the storm, All hands woro now engaged in making fast the after hatches, whoso tarpaulins wcro washed away almost immediately. Captain Long stood alono on the bridge, and hove tho ship to on tho port tack. The wind was now quickly tacking from north to west, and thence to couth. At this juncture tho indi cator from tho rudder-hoed to tho bridge and whcelhouso went wrong, and addod im measurable to tho difficulties of this terrible oncountor. A huge soa lifted up the port unchor and literally threw it over tho rail on to tho forecastle head, whore it was now with difficulty lashed. Then onsued a period of tho most awful strifo, when for nearly two hours no man on board could move without being blown away. The men woro carried off their legs and driven with cruel violonce against tho standing rigging or bulwarks, nnd many woro the narrow j,.,,,,,...1 frvn h.>ing washed away. On tho after deck the 8h .eppons were dashed about, broken up, and tho distraught animals carried overboard, Tho signalling cannon broke looso from its trunnions, and was hurled about the dock amongst tho men, who with difficulty avoidod this and othor looeo gear which continually placed them in great danger of serious injury. Tho boatswain, in making an attempt at secur ing a hatch, was carried off his feet, and sustained a fractured leg, which there by disabled ono of tho most active of our small crow. Sundry other accidents of-moro or less seriou3 nature kept tho surgeon employed, and before tho storm had beon raging an hour eight mon woro totally disabled. The captain exposed to the ex tromovioloncoof thohurricano on tho bridge, was sorely tried in his endeavour to retain his position ; tho personal danger being en ormously increased by the crashing te and fro of tho poultry-boxes, which had broken from thoir lashings. One of those coops having dashed out thesky light and shattered tho glass panels, the soas now got into tho saloon and deluged souio of the cabins. The awning over tho upper deck was quickly carried away, and tho sails, furled though they were, at tho first onset of the hurri ciinu were torn into a thousand pieces and left nuked poUs. The wing fires were put out on tho leesido of the stokoholo, tho crown of tho donkey boiler furnace camo down, all tho boat covers wero torn away, two doors smashed in tho after-house and the com pass wrecked. It.now became apparent that the fate of tin ship was only a matter of timo. If she wero subjected to such violcnco another hour, sho must go down ; nothing of human construction could ride out such a storm much longer. (Still tho ongiiies woro moving sufficiently to givo her ruddor some command over her, but tho good ship was sorely tried. About 5 o'clock it seemed as though the rolling of tho vessel was not so laboured, and tho torriblo anxiety of the afternoon was lifting from tho hearts of thoso on board. Tho atmos phoro began to clear somowhat, and at 0 o'clo.-k Capo Aden was sighted, bearing true north about 24 miles. Tho ship's head was then put cast, going slow. Tho storm had passed over, leaving, however, a heavy sea. At midnight, wind andseahaving gone down, the order was given to go full speed. But it was a doplorable sight that mot ono in every part of Hai ship. Not a moveable thing but had gono by tho board. Not a sail but was now a handful of pitiful rags hanging limp in tho standing rigging. Short handed as the crow now was, ovory available hand was up on deck clearing wreckage At 11.30 p.m. wo stopped and spoko tho s.s. GUnochil, who reported having picked up five Arabs from somo wreckage a few hours before, and those castaways had seen two largo steamers go down stern foromost two days previously. During tho day wo passed several largo pieces of floating wreckage There is abso lutely no record of a cyclone evor having boeu met with in tho Gulf of Aden before this ono."

Stonebreaking Women of Schleswig.

In a region of such great prospority and wealth wo scarcely know what to make ef a cluster of hovels by tho roadsido within sight of the slender spires of Stralsund. Thoy woro built liko gypsy huts, dug out of tho hillside und roofed with turf. A half dozen ragged chilJron wero playing with a latgo dog-cart, and tho great ugly beast ac customed to draw the vohiclo growled from his turf kennol as wo passed. Our driver, whoso local pride was shocked at tho eight of this wretched camp, hastened to oxplain that tho people wero nothing but Schles w igora—road-builders by trade-who were encaged to break stones to repair the chaussee. A little further on wo came upon a score of those peoplo at work. For fully a mile ahoad of us there was a lino of stone heaps along tho road, and thestonebreakers wero energetically hammering thoir way through this mass of flinty field stones. Sheltered from the sun by rude awnings of matting, young girls, bright-oyedand ruddy cheeked, pounded away with heavy ham mers on the large fragments into which tho men and women had split tho stones. Children and old women broke the pieces still smaller and piled them in regular heaps. There was something coquettish in the dress of tho young girls, which was quite out of harmony with their occupa tion. A bright handkerchief, wound turban liko aroußd the head, set off the deep brown of their facep, and gave a softness to the weather-roughened skin. A bodice of strong cloth fitted closely to the plump figure, and a short petticoat was girded closely to tho logs, showing bronzed feet and ankles, well modelled and graceful, though neither small nor soft. Chatting merrily as they hammered, they wore the picture of health and contentment. Their hands, somewhat protected from the rough stones by flaps of thick leather, showed to what a ooarse and rudo occupation their lives had been devoted, for they were as hard and knotted as those of the men, their fellow-labourers. Hero was a life-work for a woman I wielding a heavy sledge-hammer all day long, lifting and hanaling rough stones from the time she had eaten hor black bread and raw onions in the morn ing until she retires to the straw heap in tho mud hut at night, Why women should be engaged in such convict labour in a country where prosperity is the rule was a problem which we were unable to solve. Wo found out, after a chat with them, that the Schleswigers are famous for their skill in road-building, and are sought for the country over to repair the ckaussees. They said a smart stonebreaker could earn forty marks a week (about £2.) " If the men didn't spend all they earn in a spree every pay-day, we'd bo well off," crumbled an old woman, whose face was the texture of a dried fie, and her hands all gnarled and calloused like some strange animal's claws. "Itis a free life, wander ing wherever work calls us, and we should bo" able to livo at our ease in tho winter but for the money that goes for schnapps."— " Harper's Magazine."

TYPEWRITERS

(Feom Our London Correspondent.)

Colonial ladies who wish to earn a little pocket monoy and occupy thoir spare time profitably should invest in a type-writer, and undertake the copying of manuscripts, legal documents, catalogues, &c., &c. A great many English and American girls now make quite a little income at type-writing : Lawyers, solicitors, authors, and theatrical folk are their principal patrons.and the pay, I understand, varies from Gd to Sd per folio. There are four different sorts of type-writers the "Eclipse," the "Hall," the "Callio graph," and the ** ftemington." They are all exhibited at bo Inventions Exhibition, aud as I consider tie subject interesting, I have inquired carefully into tho merits of each.

The " Eclipso " is tho newest invention, It has the advantages of being small, simply constructed, and inexpensive. The letters are shown on a circular dial about tho size of an old-fashioned watch. In tho centre is a moveable hand worked by v lever from without. Tho operator moves tho lever until tho hand on the dial points to the letter required, then he exerts a strong downward pressure (like striking a liand bell) which prints it off. Tho exemplars at the Exhibition talked volumes concerning tho ease with which this machine could bo learnt, but when it came to rapidity of execution, I found even their most ex perienced worker unable to write more than twenty five words a minute. Tho cost of an "Eclipse," packed in a small wooden box with brass handle, is five guineas. It prints, I should mention, capitals only. The chief drawback to tho "Hall" writer is, that it requires good eyesight and strong nerves. I confess I can't stand tho fidget of moving the pencil from one littlo hole to another. Fast operators can write thirty words a minute with this machine, but it is difficult to learn and tiring to work, Cost, eight guineas.

Tlie only really practical typewriter (in my humble opinon) is the improved "Rem ington's No. 2," capitals and small letters. Thoro aro many so-called " Pmmingtons " in use all over the world, but it is only within tho last year tho No. 2 machine has boen absolutely perfected. Tho experts at the Exhibition profess to write seventy words a minute. I timed ono of the girls there, and she managed fifty-nino with ease. The beauty of a Remington is that when once you know tho keys, thoro is no more necessity to look at them than at the keys of a piano. Moreovor, the sequence of the letters has been 80 admirably arrangod that after a little time the operator's fingers fall with perfect cortaintly on the right ones. A very few days' practice should enable any girl of average intelligence (more ospeicially if she plays tho piano at all) to write from twenty to thirty words a minute with a Remington. The " Calliograph " is an elaborated "Remington," Thoro aro sixty koys in stead of only forty, and the mannor of their arrangement seems complicated. It is lighter than tho Remington, and a little loss expensive. I couldn't sco any other difference.

A Number 2 Remington, writing capitals and small letters, costs £21 ; a No. 4 Rem ington, capitals only, £18. Each machine is fitted with a strong travelling case of metal, and a table to stand upon. Tho purchaser can choose from tho following typos :—"Long primor," "pica," "italic," " Roman," and " Gothic."

THE CURSE OF THE KOHINOOR

Sorrow-Laden Diamonds - Tho Troubles WhichHavc Overtaken Thoir Owners— Story of tho Most Valuable Diamond Among tho British Crown Jewels,

Tin; belief in the curse-carrying power of cortain precious stones is almost as old as tho world itself. Emeralds and, pre-cmi- ' nontly, opals, are deemed unlucky gifts. Wilkie Collins's " Moonstone " affords an in teresting illustration of Oriental beliofs re garding ill-otnoned jewels, and tho Kohinoer diamond especially has beon thought a boarorof misfortune to all its possessors. It certainly has not been an accompaniment of good in the East, whether one ascribes tho evil that ha' followed its ownership to coin cidence or tosomc eubtlo causo. A recent writer seoms to think that tho recent events and possiblo occurrences in tho public af fairs of Groat Britain havo given increased interest to the suporstitions connected with tho Kohinoor, or mountain of light, which became the property of tho British Crown after the conquest of the Pun jaubinlSflO. It was discovered in the mines of Golconda aboat IGSO. Mir Jumia, the lessee cf the mines, a man notorious for his cruelty to wards his omployes, presented it to his sov ereign, tho King of Golconda. Soon after the King nnd Mir Jumia quarrelled, and tho latter teacherously invited Aurungzobe, the Mogul Emperor of Delhi, to invade his master's dominions. Tho invasion was a success, and the King of Golconda became a vassal of the Emperor. He speedily re boiled, however, and lost everything. Mir Jumia died wretchedly in exile. Almost simultaneously with tho acquisition of tho Kohinoor, Anrungzebo's hitherto uninterup ted good fortune began to decline. He died in 1707, leaving his sons to engage in fratri cidal war for his possessions. Sliah Alum, tho contestant who first got tho jewel, died five years later. Tho next possessor livod only seven years, and within twelve yeai'3 from tho timo of Aurungzobe it passed through the hands of five claimants. Six other competitors died during the same timo. The Mogul Empire broke in pieces during tho reign of tho noxt holder of the diamond, Mohammed Shah, the grandson of Shah Alum. In 1730 Delhi was captured by Madir Shah, the Persian, who carried off $20,000,000 in booty . Ho was assassinated soon after his return to Persia. Ahmed Abhdu, who noxt assumed command of tho Mogul Kingdom, dosigned founding an Empire for himself in Afghan istan, and was crowned at Candahav in 1745 ; he did not live very long, and his son, the eleventh possossor of the Kohinoor, had a short and unhappy reign. Ono of his sons put out the eyes of his brother, reign ing sovereign and owner of tho stono. Still anothor enacted the part of a rebol, but was obliged to floe to the Punjaub, carrying back tho Kohinoor. He waß its fifteenth and last Mohammedan possessor. Rungeot Sing, sovereign of the Punjaub and a Hindoo, ex torted the jewel from the fugitive, and very soon after died, in 1836, in his prime. His Bon, Kurruch Sing, was poisoned in IS4O, and his son was killed by a falling beam before the funeral services of his father had be"un. A civil war now broke out between the widow of Kurruch Sing nnd o reputed son of Rungeot Sing. The latter pucoeeded, but was assassinated in 1843, Two or three years of anarchy followed, and finally (1246-49), the British invaded and conquered the country. Tho Kohinoor, it is claimed, has proved hardly loss fatal to its Christian than to its Moslem and Hindoo owners. Soon after tho acquisition of the Punjaub, tho East Indian Company was broken up, Lord Dalhousie, who presented tho stone to tho Queen, July 31, 1850, is said by Mrs Barton, wife of tho travoller, and a most earnest believer in the fatility accompany ing the stone, to have died "soon after." As he survived until 1860, a poriod of ten years, the mysterious influence was rather slow in operating. The Duke of Welling ton did not fare so well, He died three months after giving tho first turn to its cut ting. Prince Albert has also been held up as a victim, but he lived until December, 1851, and one might as well ascribe tho premature decease of Princess Alieo and Princo Leopold to tho eamo occult influence, saying nothing of the distin guished dead of 1850-54. Ono need not be very sceptical cr philosophical t® find an explanation of the woes that have followed the ownership of the stono in Hindoostan— to tho vices of tho dynasties through which it passed. They would have perished just as surely without it, unless its great value gave a special stimulus to an insurrection against its owner. There are English mon and women, however, and thoso not even stupid fanatics, who think tho deadly gem was worth possessing, notwithstanding the disasters it is working. As far as an ac cumulation of troubles is concerned, the Queen of England and Empress of India, or rather her respoi sible chief adviser, is busy with perplexing matters just now. The Kohinoor came to England with reform and Corn Law abolition. The bane of Oriental despotism, may it not be also the bane of whatever of medi.-eval despotismhas survived in British legislation, and thus cleared the way for progress and freedom ? W ro may not share the superstitions of those who as cribed to it a casual power of any kind ; but certainly it will loso none of its sparkle wb»n swollen real properties are reduced by erfftitable division ; when ancient privileges are no longer the prize of the few, and when emigration ceases to be with many the sole alternative of starvation. If the Kohinoor brings destruction, it is to the few who have dominated over the many, thus insuring final order ou,t of immediate chaos.— •'Boston Times,"

A TRIP TO ENGLAND

What Will the Cost Bo?

(EROM OUR LONDON CORRESPONDENT.)

London, June 4. As, owing to the Whitsuntide holidays, there is really littlo or no Anglo-Colonial news of importance to chronicle just now, it has occurred to me I might do worse than fulfil a promise made in one of my recent letters and jot down sundry facts and hints which experience leads me to think may be useful to people who aro projecting a trip to the " ould country " sometime or other.

1 fancy it is a fact that many folks aro frightened out of coming to England for a holiday by the vague indefiniteness of the expenses to which thoy fancy thoy will be put. Parerfamilias frequently say, "I would go Home for a year if I know what it would cose." Unquestionably, too, there must bo a number of tho young born colonists who would bo gladto see something of Europe and take a six month's holiday if they thought they could "do"the eights comfortably and have a good time for, say, £250.

My impression is that a man without extravagaut tastes ought to bo able to cover the whole expenses olasix month's holiday and see London, Paris, the Rhine, Belgium, the English and Scotch Lakes, and certain show places in both countries, comfortably for £300, and Ithink a married couple might easily uudertako the same for £500. Tho voyage homo would of courso have to be made in one of the direct linors. Theoreti cally, the difference in the passage monoy be tween the clipper and the P. &0. boats is very small; practically, it is considerable. Thoman who thinks he has done with serious expense when he sets foot on an outward bound P. & 0. or Orient liner in Sydney Harbour makes a « oeful mistake. On aP.& 0. boat, unless the passengers aro an exceptional lot, you may get rid of £20 or £30 between Sydney and Gravesend without being guilty of any particular extravagance, or indeed spending moro than you are (practically) obliged. The passengers aro mostly monied folk. Loo, " nap," subscriptions of all sorts and sweepstakes on the " run " form evory-day features of life. A man can. however, to some extent control them, but it is a different matter with the constantly recurring trips ashore. Jolly parties are mado up for drives, lunches, and dinners, &c, at which cham pagne flows like water and pcoplo enjoy themselves thoroughly. Save undor very exceptional circumstances, a voyage on a 5,000-ton P. & 0. boat with a hundred and fifty passengers in tho saloon, is indeed a delightful experience, well worth the money it costs. One requree, however, to face the fact that there will be many oxtra expenses before embarking. The man who can't or won't afford to join in the amusoments of his fellow passengers finds himself in a miserable tantalus—anxious to play eight eonpenny " loo," yet afraid to do so because ho may possibly lose half-a-sovereign ; anxious to daneo, yet unable to do so because ho has not subscribed towards hiring tho steward who fiddles ; and so on. Aboard chip, of all places, ono must do as others do. Otio's oxponses on board one of the N.Z.B. boats or Shaw-SaviU's steamers should not exceed £5, clear of wine bills. The pas songeis belong to a different class to thoso travelling by the P. &0. Orient lines. More over thoro is only ono trip ashore : that is at Rio Janeiro. For this I shall allow £1, which, by the way, is probably much under tho mark with most people—Rio being a place where all sorts of strange curios con jure monoy out of pockets. The stewards' fees for the passage will amount to about £2—a guinea for your bedroom steward, ton shillings for the man who waits on you at table, five shillings for tho bathroom attendant, and five shillings for " boots." These are fair vails, neither stingy nor extravagant. If you are ill, or give either your bedroom or saloon steward special trouble, the sum must be increased. Young travellers often make themistako of ordering tho stewards about miscellaneously, with tho consequence that tlioy have to tip right and left when the end of the voyage comes. It is simplctt and wisest to confino orders as far as possiblo to one special man. Sorc.o people make a boast that they get all they can out of the stewards and yet never tip. "The custom 13 an imposition," I once heard a little beast of a commercial traveller say. "I paid for attendance once, when I bought my ticket. I'm not going to pay again. These men get their wagos." That sounds hard-headed common sense, but it isn't. The scalo of stewards' wages is by long custom fixed on the understanding that they will receive vails from the passen gers. The lattcr'know this, and ought to bless tho system. It provides them with a service which is fifty times belter than if there were no tips. Cards aro a great resource on board ship, and wli6n the stakes aro low (sixpenny points at whist, sixpenny and eighteon penny "leo," threepenny " nap," or limited "poker") cost but a trifle. Parties who play together most days during a long voyage como out pretty even in the end- A few shillings either way represents the amount of damage done. Never, if you can help it, permit the stakes fixed on at the commencement of a voyage for a gome to be raised, It always results disastrously. Remember, moreover, that small stakes aro tho only real safeguard against "sharping." Cheating at cards is, I imagine, far commoner nt sea than people imagine On board the Pacific mail, the Orient, and tho P. & 0. there is a good deal of it. Quito recently, a flagrant case was detected on ono ot the latter liners. The culprit was a commercial traveller. He did not appear to win much or frequently, but an onlooker noticed that somehow whenever there came a specially heavy pool (the game was " 100 ") it went into this party's pocket. Curiously enough, too, these " coups'" were generally coeval with hi 3 own. Suspicion being aroused, the man was watched, and seen to perform an operation called " santer la cou fer," or, in plainer English, to negative by a skilful action the cut. At first tho inclina tion was to expose him publicly, but tho pur ser of the ship, when consulted, advised so strongly against this courso that it was abandoned. Mr Purser thon volunteered to take the caso into his own hands, and inter viewed tho culprit. He disgorgod £20, and left the ship at Suez. Nothing is to be gainod by landing at Plymouth with tho mails instead of going on to G ravosend. One savos a day certainly, but tho railway journey from Plymouth to to London is long, tiring, and costly. Baggage agents como aboard before tho steamer reaches Gravesend, who will pass your luggage through tho Customs and delivor it safely to any address you liko to givo them, for a few shillings. This saves an infinity of trouble. You can then pack a small handbag with things for tho night, and disembark at Gravesend. From there to Charing Cross is half-an-hour by train. Arrived in London Young Antipodean will, unless he ha 3 friends who offer to put him up, bo obliged to go to an hotel for a night or two. Well, there are plenty to choose from in the neighbourhood of Charing Cross. I should recommend the Grand or the Metropolo Though they aro two of the biggest and most gorgeous cara vanscrios in tho world, your bill, if you are content with a bedroom on the fifth or sixth floor, will not come to more than it would at the Golden Cross, Haxell's, orMorleys. The latter used to bo a great Australian house, but it is now behind tho times in everything but its charges, which continue villainously high. The Caledonian, in Adclphistroet, Strand, bears the reputation of being ono of the quietest and cheapest houses near Charing Cross, and tho Station Hotel one of tho dearest, dirtiest, and worst. The Grand and the Metropolo arc palaces The splendour of their appointments oxcels anything I have ever seen in the States. Tho Grand boasts the best five shilling set dinner in London and good all-round cooking. Tho charges aro tho same as at less pretentious houses. It is worth the while of a stranger to spend a night or two at one of these two big hotels as an ex perience. Scale of charges : —

Grand or Haxell's, Metropolo. Caledonian, &c. 8. d. s. d. Bed 5 0 — 3 0 Breakfast ... 3 0 — 2 0 Cold Lunch... 3 0 — 2 0 Dinner with wine, coffee, and liqueur.. 7 0 — 4 0 (To he Continued).

Pauperism in London.

The weekly return of metropolitan pauper ism in London shows that in the third week of April there were 59.951 paupers, of w^hom 54,4(35 were indoor and 30,440 outdoor. Thi3 is an increase of 430 as compared with the corresponding week of 18S4, and a de crease of 2,558 and 021 as contrasted with 1883 and 1882. Tho last day of the third week of April 533 vagrants wero relieved, of whom 385 were men, 137 women, and eleven children under sixteen years of age,

A Famous French Pickpocket.

Mimi Lepreux is tho most adroit pick pocket in Paris. Many of tho police agenie know him well, and are incessantly watch ing him ; and yet they have never been able to establish legally a single ono of tho numerous robberies of which ho ha 3 been guilty. " 1 remember," writes M. Gisquet in his memoirs, "a report made to mo, in which so many curious things were said of this man that I was led to question an officer familiar with the doings of Mimi Lepreux. The officer informed me that this robber had at least 15,000 francs a year, payable out of property purchased with tho produce of his larcenies ; that he was very liboral to tho poor, and still more so to tho petty thieves who served him ; that he had always a dozen of the3o, on great occasions, employed to keep a look-out for him, to penetrate into tho crowd, to ascertain how such or such a person placed his purso, his gold snuff box, his pocket-book, etc. ; that these auxiliaries executed nothing them selves, confining themselves to acquainting Mimi with what they had observed, who takes upon himself to turn their discoveries to profit, For example, one of these robber appren tices will come to Mimi and whisper in his ear in slang phrase, "That old gentleman, fifteen paces to tho right, with white hair and a cane in his hand, has put » heavy purse into his left breeches pocket." " Very well," replies Mimi, "there's ten sous for you. Cut!" A quarter of an hour afterwards the purse is in Mimi'a possession, but not to remain there two secondß. There are always accomplices near, ready to receive tho stolen article, which passes from hand to hand, and disappears in a twinkling. If, therefore, the almost imper ceptible" movement of tho thief should happen to be remarked at tho instant of the obbety, and even if the party robbed seize the culprit's arm, there is no means of establishing the crime. In such case, Mimi, with perfect calmness and self-possession, expresses his surprise that any one should dare to suppose him capable of such conduct. He appeals to the by-standers, shows his purse well filled with gold pieces, and hia pocket-book stuffed with bank-notes, which contains, by chance, too, tho receipt for hia last taxes; and asks if a father-of a family, ia affluent circumstances like his, may not despise an accusation of this sort.

"I am willing to suppose," ho says, "that tho gentleman may have spoken without thought, and bear him no grudge for a mistake, which happily can do no harm to me."

It is not an uncommon thing to sco the victim stammer out apologies to tho robber, and depart through a crowd of persona murmuring their indignation against him. On the day in which M. Rodde presented himself on tho Place de la Bourse, to exercise the profession of public crier, Mimi Lepreux was met by tho same poaee-officer in the midst of an extraordinary concourse of republicans and curious spectators, "What are you doing here?" said the agent of authority, in a severe tono. "I am doing like others, looking on, and walking about." " You aro well aware that I know you ; you are here for the purpose of doing some mischief."

" As I tell you, I am doing nothing at all, Why do you bother me ? Is not the pave ment free for everybody '!"

" Don't stand arguing there; move on, or I will have you taken up. You arc here for tho purpose of robbing. We havo plague enough on our hands, without your coming hither, with your band, to pilfer." " Bah !" said Mimi Lepreux, impatiently, and losing his • tempor. " Leavo me alone ! Your republicans aro nothing better than canaille ! I have picked moro than fivo hundred of their pockets, and nevor found a sou in any one of them."

Remarkable Balloon Voyage.

There is at present being commemorated atGuines a remarkable balloon voyage of a century ago, when two aeronauts, Blanchard, a Frenchman, and Dr. Jeffries, an American, descended in tho midst of tho neighbouring forest, after having been borne across the Straits of Dover. Towards tho end of 1754 it was the desire of French balloonists to acliievo tho first passage from England to France. Blanchard betook himself to the English coast, whore his plans were warmly entertained. While there ho mot Lunardi and Dr. Jeffries, a physician, and a native of Boston, United States. They proceeded to Dover and awaited a favourable breeze. A start was at la3t effected from the Castle, amid the firing of artillery. Blanchard did his utmost to get away alone ; but- Jeffries held firmly to the agreement, which had been signed and sealed. By this agreement Jeffries provided all thef unds requisite for en suring the ascent contemplated, socured in consideration of these a seat in the car, and bound himself, on his word of honour as a gentleman and an officer, to jump out of the car the moment his further presence and weight should jeopardise the success of the expedition and imperil Blanchard's life. Shortly after 1 p.m. the balloon rose and drifted seawards amid the enthusiasm of the inhabitants, and to the dismay ot Mrs Jeffries and hor children. The poor woman had in vain tried to retain her husband, who, more over, had been advised in a letter from the Prince of Wales not to attempt the cross ing. Tho travellers soon found themselves drifting towards the Goodwin Sands. They found when in mid-Chanuol that the balloon, tho total weight of which, including thea:ro nuutß, ballast, and accoutrements, had been at the start 9001ba,wasgradually settlinginto lowercurrents. The sandbngswere emptied till at last everything available had been cast from tho car, even tho rudder and sails. The advantagogained was a momentary one. Tho question wnatshould be dispensed with next must have caused Jeffries to shudtler. A respite was granted by the ejection of the nnchorjand provisions; and, as a final effort, of such garments as were not absolutely necessary. Tho last sacrifice caused aquiek ascent, and broughttho balloon to the neigh bourhood of Guinea, and over tho forest.

The loss of the anchor mado tho men desirous of lauding without delay; so they managed to grapple some of the uppermost branches, and lowered themselves into the dense wood. Tho descont.not an easy one, took place a littlo over two hours after the start, whon Blanchard aud Jeffries, onco moro on terra firma, hung on oaeh other's necks. They wero convoyed to Guinea and then to Calais in great triumph. Every honour, evon to the freedom of the city, was conferred on the Frenchman ; and the two travellers wore thenceforward con sidered heroes.

Costly Courtship.

In the Queen's Bench Division, Miss Charlotte Spiers, dressmaker, has brought an action torecoverdamagesfrom Mr Gaorgo Hutt, fish 'salesman, at Billingsgate, for breach of promise of marriago. Tho parties became acquainted in the latter part of 1883 at a dancing class, and soon afterwards were engaged. Tho defendant gave the plaintiff an engagement ring sot with diamonds and emeralds, and made her a a number of other presents of jewellery. Ho frequently took her out for drives, and on ono occasion she was thrown out of the vehicle and seriously hurt. She had con sequently to go to the seaside for tho benefit of hc-r health. The defendant visited hor there, and showed great solicitude about her wolfare, sending hor jiresent.s of jellies, fish, fowls, and rabbits. He also wrote to hor in endearing terms, such as "Dear old pet" and "Darling, do look after your dear sejf for my sake." The parties woro introduced to each other's friends as an engaged couple. A house was taken for them at a rent of about £40 a year, and all tho plaintiffs preparations wero made for the marriage, except the purchase of the wedding dress. In the autumn of last year, however, tho defendant broke off tho engage ment without giving any satisfactory reason, and wrote to tho pluintiff in terms which, her counsel Eaid, presented all the elements of contrast with his earlier com munications.—The plaintiff, who is a little over 20 years of age, stated, in hor evidence, that latterly, thinking tho defendant's manner strango, she said to him, " Georgo, as your intended wife, 1 havo-a right to know what is the matter with you.' He then told her that he had lent his father £80, and lost £50 in betting, and thorefore he proposed, for pecuniary reasons, that the marriage, the day for which had already been fixed, should he postponed. She readily consented, expressing her approval of his lending the money to his father if the father needed it, but reproving him sharply for betting, and saying she hoped ho would loseevery penny if ever hedidbet. (Laughter.) —In crose-examination the plaintiff said she did not know the defendant was only a clerk, withapotitidaweekassalary. Hohadalwoys represented himseif as being in a good position, and ho spent a pound a week on herself in presents during their courtship. She gavo up her dressmaking business at his request, in view of tho marriage. Ultimately the jury gave a verdict for the I plaintiff for £150.

THE AUCKLAND EVENING STAR, SATURDAY, JULY 25, 1886

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