VELLA VERNELL OR, ANAMAZING MARRIAGE.

By Mbs Sumneb Haymx,

ra( «Uttl« BolQlfc" "The Mldnißht '""'jjjjriago/'-'GeraHine." etc., eco.

CHAPTER L,

"will's or JiM's'i"

• nIIUHMW pliant evening. In after Lvovlc looked back to it, and, out of ZVsscf his heart, fancifully deemed Jtairthabartf a golden gate, which yjdedMol'aradiso. aoubkly M tho Costollos luwJ nung oft' with Vella, they had como to w it not be inferred that they wsro "to ff ho held in derision social distinc- M dlightly m»do friends of strangers. Ihntically wore they tho reverse. Their 3j«oqnaintancoshipwith Volla was ex. jjrtui, T°know her slishtlymade ono 2h to know hor more intimatoly, and JJ5i ma knew her intimately ono lovodhor .

'flair attraction to her, and tho doep ■>Zt they had taken in her was now JKed to Voyle. His remarkable like ■JJr, Kre at degree accounted for this. Km they actually confused tho por iLiltv of the two. KM! Mtnething of an ordeal to tho " - fellow to meet Kitty's half-frightened S Owen's blank " By thundor !" as Sintered the sitting-room. But it was «oideal for which long years of similar Ration had prepared him. to host later, when Mr Costollo had iaffljed himself in a lengthy editorial, 3the joung folks had gathered around bis*, blaring coal tire in the grate, Voyle Suttoufh he had known them all the Loi his" life. They had heard of his fc They had heard of his anxiety, had nmtteed with his fears, and laughed Jjontofthem, in the same breath. Own declared he himself had asked the jjtSot concerning Vella. "AtJeaat this is the way it was," he jj, "When I found myself standing, tf'dadi in the driving rain, I looked mud first thing for mother and the girls. gild see none of them, but by the light (ilutern dashed near by, discovered our mlt; fellow-passenger almost at my feet. lilt bareheaded, but had not undressed til A man was bending over her. You In in what an incredibly short apace of fetbitTM will collect about the scene of iwitbnt, I took him for one—a very njnrml blunder of mine, I confess. I riiom and caught him by the shoulder, "foe of that, you scoundrel?' I cried. <ji looked up quickly, turning his fen as ho did 30. Tbo light fell on his i% and I saw in a moment 1 had been Bdieo, A bearded face it was, with a miity of loDgish hair blowing about the svoed head. Mosi unmistakably, h|b, the countenance of a gentleman, tiii I recognised my mistake, a railroad ial, harrying by, turned his head over itaklerto give me a piece of advice : "Diffl't be too fresh, young fellow ! K'iDr. Laurence!' ;U«reKe, or Lao rent — something Unlike either, anyhow. I apologised, iltf tnt on with his examination, hardly VtH me. I was in a fever to find the tld my folks, but waited just long jaiiloaßk if she were seriously hurt. '% he answered, hastily, but with iihjllittle merited; ' no danger.'" jijlidrew a glad breath, and looked ninth eyes grown suddenly luminous. 'Kindeed, I am beginning to hope I" 'hi you have the very slightest Mtadespairing ! " exclaimed Kitty, fiqmnot quite as full of mirth and k^a,Oren and his sistors, as they had kteght on the train. The shadow iUi tested broodingly over their Hi&rieand Owen talked together JMrtflome joint work at the Academy, %m their guest in a lowered voice irta brother had intended going to ntjUihen their mother's sad and sudden ill I*l altered all their plans. "Ilwned as though in the hour of our ij Iw we grew selfish," sho said, ■$ji passing in her work—a thick, < "muffler" she was crocheting for to;"w couldn't let him go. Not that ifttted to, indeed. He gave up the itt once when he saw how badly it aim leal. His going would have been Mar death."

Mpjokedupthe ball of Berlin she had

"fan imagine how strong now must be im&ty of even closer companion- I'biaid, with grave sympathy. ■I«l mother is not living, Mr Ver-

St golden flame leaping high—still (h-caat a mellow light around the U( «y room. Wook his head.

i\ jo. Vella and I were only about iifanhedied."

V'the busy fingers ceased their rapid willy idle on the sombre gown. rmwta hard." i«,kt we were in one respect very teite,' Our aunt came to take care of t'iiCuraain her power lay all that our 'Bother could have been to us she has

good of her ! She is your mother's

i\;mjr father's. She is a Vernell, ■JliffltDolly has been an angel to us." >nell-.Dplly | Dolly—Vornell! The J'lidi in itself distinct, hummed in wMtello's ears, got mixed up with §Mtlhe was reading—grew compre "t'ljid connected. swopped his paper—wheeled round. Jtem and sauerkraut!" he shouted, yw't mean to say you're one of fldl started—turned to him in hameaf ,3%6» a shade confused. '"»blest if I know, sir. What Vernells wijlming to? There are few of our JfttteNorth." m the Vernells of Old Pallas, of ""■rlknew them all in the days of my Jl There was Jim—and what'« this Joey's name was that ran away Bpr 'iWfeta jumped up. trm.'*"" '' y°u're one °^ . jTßOsoare you anyway—WiU'a or LPwue your hand I Pnt. it. there. W Who'd ever have dv'ined yon 1 7 of those Vernell. V Grnat fill fflN he shook the lad'x hand hr JjjliM« own were a patent pumping

"ftere looked on smiling, astonished 3".« M Owen marvelling how tho im- S^gnitionhad originated. l^j "■ nr |" as soon as he could put in if? 'Sfe'^Ts; 68"-" **• fiw*" ra s°ne too ~*ne his brighfc head in very fe.*' '} He'B Hving-in Chicago, ■Taj . °ero B'nco fil'hpr died." Ci^'-rsay-ao!" l^gdathismannor rim! tono of iif'ite'Papa!" ms:'"A-<\ Kitty, lijVjyonr disolosuren, Mr Vernell,' w2}W> "olemnly, ''' Fire aisy,' as Nftw mi Jim **' drowned-oh, lguees," declared Cos-

■•^j^6ll6 of the five survivors of a ■Sifofci. 6 fact of hia name bein& ■!? It St .an eaß'ly explained mia- HS'VnT 18nlt Poßaible y°u are an ■?*ST'' haven't heard of tbe ■^•PW 8?! at? ly on thß hearth-rug, his ■MS' J", hands in his pockets, hie ■ % tCT UP on his forehead, stood ■tIBN clT^^ent of bewilderment. ■pSofll*.'l Of o'lllrßS l have- B^Cvl?,,? Ilt f "°v C r dreamed KfrtellT1: "lip" your Bißter ■■PHftstT 1 T""Ml'a '»y old friends. ■ i^lffr"1 < ri 'he very identical ■ potion i""1'" "evvr Btruck me' lt ■fe^ came to Voyle. ■?« teUo'" ho "*a, "if you BW tade hi 9* your '"iqnaintanoe ■», "itttln n L y°u °c good enough ■sCta^r ame *°him-or in any ■ (*N »f»» .r tliat y°u aro B°mucn ■ ■T.. By sastenoe or that of my

" Great corkscrows ! You don't mean—" "I do, sir!" with an earnest manliness which impressed thorn, "We've cut adrift from him, Volla and I, for good and for all. Some day I shall toll you oxplicitly why— not now. Of this only, howover, I solemnly give you my word of honour, neithor of us has done tho slightest thing to '10 ashamed of, and tho course wo havo taken is tho only ono left honourably open to us Will you believe mo ?" " Thundoration ! to bo sure I will!" Ho drew his chair into the somicirclo, his precious editorial on Tariff Reform quite forgotten. " And—Dolly !" ho added, with a visible effort. "How is Dolly?" Tho boy smilod. " Quick-tomporod, warm-hoartod, lovable and loving as ovor !" ho replied. A retrospective smilo lighted up tho old soldier's faco.

" Quick-tompored ! H'm I right you arc. I romombor a box"—ho bont his bald head and gave his oar a rub of ruoful rocolloc tion—" phew !it tingles yot!"

" Why, papa !" eiiorused the girls, in mock horror, " Did someone onco actually box your ears ?" Ho mado a comical grimace. "That somp one did, my dears. But it was boforo I met your mother," hastily, "quito a while before 1 mot your dear mother." Voylo regarded him in silence, but with a faitit, amused smilo. Could thoro have been in tho long ago a bit of romanco between this bluff old war-horso and Aunt Dolly—when Aunt Dolly was young and charming? Wouldn't it bo qu">T if it should so trnnspiro? And yet why should ono bo surprised at odd mci lent* or tlio dis covery thereof? Wasn't the world full of them? There was his own position now, for instanco, and Volla's. How strange the occurrences which had led to their separa tion—had brought him into actual contact with the friend of his friend's youth. If ono read it all, ono would sniff at it as in credible, and attributo it to the over imaginative brain of a writer of romance. "I knew your mother, too, my lad," broke in Costollo, after a pause. "A rare fine girl, Muriel—and you're the living imago of hor. Now why," he demanded, with a gesture of disgust, "didn't that strike me before ?" Cheerily the evening passed. It was after ton when Voylo rose to go. As ho did so, the captain laid his hand on his shoulder with a quostion which, if not so kindly put, would have been impertinent. "If you aro adrift, as you say, and homo loss, what do you live on ?" He flnshed. "I have a Httlo monoy of my own, sir." "And you're not working at anything to bring you in more !" " In the sonso in which you put it, no, sir." " Then," grimly business-like, " the little you have will be less before long. One can't live on love in Chicago." Ho laughed, and ran his fingors through the crisp gold of his hair. " No, nor anywhere, sir, I fancy " " Would you like a position !"' Voyle looked up frankly. " That is the very thing I want." Tho captain looked ploased. "That is tho right spirit." He produced a card and gave it to him. "Comedown to tho address to-morrow. "Now, what is it!" For the handsoino brown eyes had clouded. " There is one thing. I am not likely to hold it very long—not if I am successful in another affair I have undertaken."

"Ah! then you have some work afoot? Well, you onn hold this just as long as you need it. How will that do ?"

"Famously, sir. And I'm immonsely grateful, not only for your offer, but for your kindness of to-night." And thon he held out his hand in faro well.

Did ho hold Bessie's fair, soft little fingers a trifle lingeringly in his close clasp ? Ah, let us not suspect our fellow-man. But did he? you reiterate. How inquisitive you are, to be sure ! Woll, truthfully that I know not. But this I know : Into Miss Bessie's witching face came a sudden, sweet, bewildering glow, which Mrs Charu's whole box of " warranted " blooms could not ever so faintly rival,

CHAPTER LI. " VELLA."

" But [ have a soerot I keep from Jonny. And she has a sccict sho keeps from me !" K. J. AlcPriELi.M,

A clear, cold night, blue a«.d bracing. Through the heavy, half-drawn Syrian curtains Evelyn Gage glanced now and then at the vast vault sown " with fretted fire of many stars." Within her own particular sitting-room the gas burned low. In the subdued light the room was o picture. It was not furnished with the modern magnificence which characterised the remainder of the house ; for that very reason, perhaps, was more attractively home-like. A few of Evelyn Gage's inartistic ac quaintances sneered at her fancy for the beauty of by-gono days. "She has developed a craze for the antique," they would remark, " becauso to affect such things is the rage just now, and Evelyn will drift back with the current." But their injustice would not permit them to add that, in her clear, critical eyes, the mere fact of a vase or a chair having been fashioned a couple of hundred years ago did not make it beautiful if it were not so intrinsically ; that her taste was above reproach, and her judgment beyond cavil. ' Here she had gathered her troasu ree, and, aa has been said, the room was a picture, with its huge, soft-toned Persian rug in lieu of a carpet, its purple and dull-gold hang-^ ings to match, its few choice " first-proof " engravings, its numberless books, ite little Louis Quinze writing table, its exquisitely tapestried chairs, its quaint, spindle-legged piano, which had belonged to Evelyn's mother in her girlhood. At it sat, as night darkened, the occu pant of the room. She was playing softly, and without notes. Snatches of anything, everything, merging a merry waltz in a wailing dirge, a martial tune in a rattling racquet, and airily drifting away from all in the strains of "Bonnie Prince Charles. Rat-a-tat. Her fingers fell from the yellowish keya. " Come !'

A servant entered. . " There's a lady below to see you, Miss Evelyn." " To see nw ! Who is she ? _ " She refused to give her name, hubs. "It is not the dressmaker's girl?" "Oh.no. A lady, miss." "Well, show her up." "Here, Miss Evelyn 2"

" Yes." Bho rose and stood waiting, a stately, gracious figure, in her simple, pretty home dross of some soft reddish material, with bands of snowy linen at throat and wrists. The door opened. A girl cnme, a little diffidently, into the room, a girl in a brown cloth havolock, black skirt, and demuro, bird-breasted, bewingedhat.

Th/ttaid word aroused her from her Btunned surprise. She started, ruehed for ward, caught the travel-tired stranger in vXTm'y de Bar, die°ar yVella I is it really you' Are you sure it isn't your ' fetch 1 $hen did you arrive? .Why didn't you write me you were coming? And not a soul to meet you ! Sit down and give me your tilings. Such a surprise ! V Off in a twinkling camo hat and havolock. Then her hostess turned her round so that the light fell full upon her with anothei We^r m E ehl"o g o katyou. Gracious child, where are your J° 3%,f dimples? You've been ill! And, oh, if I wasn't forgetting-where's your husband ! I'm just dying to see him. «. My—who?" gasped \ ella. •' Your husband. The first glimpse I got of you standing at tho door there sent all and forgot she was now a dignified married

W°™Evelyn! Whatovor are you raving abAnd?'now it was Evelyn's turn to sit and Bt"' Why, about you, of course, and your husband 1" . , „ " My dear, I'm not married. I read.it in the Chicago papers, dear ; it was copied in the 6teU°you about-" she began But Evelyn's exclamation stopped her. "5S fBJS n. fILS little-nllo. "that I

ha«VK' lately? WtatwKtJ you come to Philadelphia .for chamxo of an ' But wait! You must not tell me y;'t- xou must have some refreshment first She touched the old-fashioned boll-cord by the mantel and met at the door the servant who came in prompt IMgponM. Her orders givte, she came back to the lov,

many-oushioned lounge where Volla sat, and sank down besido hor. " Now !" sho said. During tho journey sho had deliberated much as to what she should toll Evelyn • how far confide in her. And sho had not beon ablo to decide. New, with tho dear, friendly arms of her childhood's heroine around hor, those loving, bluogroy oyos so tendorly mooting hers, she told horsolf she would toll hor all. Surely sho hod a right to know. She to whom she bad fled for rofugo from hor trouble was worthy hor confidence.

So thoro in that quaint and dainty room whoroin the upturned gas Lurned brightly, while without tho autumn night darkened (I- ■>-»ti. sho whispered to her the story of the !•-' lii.i months, only sho said no word of ■\' ■•■ Trucy. She could not. Oh, she

c •' ! .ut speak yet of him. Their meeting, li ir lovu was too sacred, their ostrango uiont too recont, 100 md. No, no ! Somo time sho would tell her, but not, jui-t now. OF course, it would all bo fair and smooth again soon. Shu would meet him, or hear of liis whereabouts. Then t-ho would write and tell him to come to hor, that ncvor for ono instant had sho been aught we loyal and true. Then who would lot, Evolyn know how happy sho was—how happy. But all concerning tho marriago, which was no marriage nt all—her Might, the collision, her stay at the Starr's, her friend heard. Of the reason which induced her second and successful attempt to reach Philadelphia she did not speak, though. During the relation Evolyn sat very still and attentive, patting now and then tho little blue-veined hand in hers,, nodding sympathetically when sho pausodi but say ing novor a word, When sho had quito finished sho pushed back tho big, shining curls from tho white forehead and looked into tho lovely brown eyes. " My poor little girlie ! That was a capital way to defeat tho scheme of ycur scoundrelly old uncle and hia accomplice Crony. Don't look shocked. You know I will call a spade a spade. I would laugh at tho ridiculous side of the masquerade woro I not, too grieved for all your trouble I am heartily glad you had sense enough to co:no to mo. Now you're going to stay with mo always, and be my iv own doar siater ? !1 YellaV old, swift, sunshiny smilo lit up her faco. She shoo tier head. "Oil, no ! You « ill soon bo ofl'ering mo half your ki'i'.'doni." Evolyn laughed shyly. Sho, too, shook her head. On either colourless cheek stole out a soft carnation bloom. Half hor kingdom ? But so recently hers, and such a glorious domain, whoro sho should always reign solo queon. Oh, no ! "I am not going to woar out my wel come, as runs the saying," went on Vella, in her gay, gentle way. "Ono of those days I Bhall hoar from Voylo. When Ido I shall go and koop house for him, and wo will forget there is such a person on earth as Mr Jonas Claflin."

And in her heart she innocontly planned they would, till her wedding. Evolyn bent her head a littlo and looked up at her with an arch smile. " Are you sure there is no one savo Voyle whom you've promised to koop house for, Vella ?"

Vella smiled and eighod in tho same breath, and blushed rosily. But sho parried the quostion skilfully. " That was just what 1 wa3 about to ask you, Evelyn." Sho would koep her secret a littlo while longer, Evoiyn decided. It was all s-o new, so bewildering new and sweet yet, she would not lightly reveal it—not oven to this loved friend of hers. "What do you tako mo for?" she answered gayly. "To think that I should surrender my liberty, which I so dearly en joy ! Volla think better of mo!" "If thinking bettei of you moans con sidering you vowed against such surrender, I won't!" camo tho merry assertion. " I'll think worse of you." Evoiyn gave a predigous sigh. " Dear mo ! what an eloquent champion of matrimony. My child, it is easy to son that tho noose which throttles but does not kill has never been around your own white throat." " You tried hard onough to convinco mo it was a few minutes ago," laughingly. " Now let us talk senso !" " Wo'll begin by discussing tho most un .■esthotic and ecnsiblo things—food !" avowed Evoiyn, as tho servant ontored with a tray. Five minutes later she laid down her cup with a quick ejaculation "Now, I understand! If I wasn't for gelling to toll you ..bout it. Your deten tion at the Starr's—was that the namo ?— explains Voyle'a telegram." Vella started. "Voyle'stelogram!" shorepcated. "Did he despatch you? From whoro? About mo?" Evelyn nodded. " Yes. From Chicago. Ho asked if you wore with mo ? To roply if you wore not I did so." Vella ponderod. "That is vory strange !" " Why ? Did you write to him sinco you " No, but I wrote Aunt Dolly, and if ho !b in Chicago he must have heard of me through her." "Woll, he may have at tho timo, and bo anxious now to know of your arrival here." " That may be !" musingly. "In any caBO I shall telograph him in the morning.' " But whore? Ho would hardly go back' to your uncle's after his infamous troattnont of him." ~. T " No, he would not. You aro right. 1 had not thought of that. What hod I better do?" "Sleep on it!" suggestod Evoiyn, promptly. " Your brain wlil bo cloaror in the morning, and yeu will be bottor able to decidn." „ •• I." if Voyle is worrying about mo " M . ilo.ir, he won't bo ! Uo will think as yn'i ire not with mo you aro still at Stan■■* " And that settled it. Soundly and peacefully she slept that night. When sho awoke lato next morning Evoiyn stood by hor side a nowspaper in hor "Look I" feh™ nrted. " Was it not woll you decided tv oltcu on your dilemma? You can telegraph Miss Dorothy now with out fear of dotoction by your uncle. Bead that despatd. to the papers !" Volla sal up in bed, her big brown eyes still drowsy, her cheeks flushed with the delicious pink of healthful slumbor. Sho took tho extended paper and read:

" Sooiotv horo is stirred to its foundations at tho discovery of tho marriago of ono of its wealthiest and most wirtely known citizens. Colonel James Vornell, known on 'Channel as ■ the luoky colonel,' to Mrs Charu, a dashing widow of this city, Tho ceremony was strictly private. Colonel and Mrs Vernell aro on route to Florida."

Vella dropped tho paper in blank astonish m Heir uncle married ! And she had always considered him far too old to think of him as a possible Benedict. He was married! And to that flashy widow sho had met at lire Sylvia'B ball. Goodness— (/radons ! "Woll?" laughed Evelyn. But beyond tho bare, bald fact that ho was marriod, her imperious, cold-hoarted, grizzly headed old uncle, she could not even think.

CHAPTER LII.

" on, you sly, sly actnt dolly !" "No, the heart that lias truly loved never for- But as truly loves on to the cloao, ~„ As tho eunllowcr turns on her «od when ho Tho same look which sho turned whon he rO3O-" -Moore. "To Miss DokoTHV Vkhnki.l:-Aiii with Evelyn. Have just read the news. i^Voylc know I am safo and well. v hhhA. Such was tho despatch just handed Miss Dorothy. "With Evelyn !" she repeated amazedly. "Of course she is with Evelyn—has been these woeks past. This sounds as though she had only just reached Philadelphia. That cannot be. She must have gotthero long ago. And to tell Voyle I well I can do that, and openly too, thank goodness ! Sho ordered the carriage and drove down town. She sent Voyle a despatch-Mr Charles Hatley, rather-did some shoppiDg, and went home. The day was waning when he came up the steps of his old home and rang the bell. The servant who opened the door for him fell back a step at sight of him. » You, Mr Voyle ! I'm right glad to see you back, sir. The house has beer, awful lonesome-like without you and Miss Veila. '" Thank you, Roberts ! I'm not back to Bt ay, though. I've only come to see my mint. She's not engaged, is sho? Tell her I'm here, will you?" VoX'went into the library and sat down. Ho looked around. Tho deep-toned luxurious room-how familiar it was ! Just there that bright Juno morning a few months ago had his uncle stood, posrt.ye mUon-flushed, tyrannical, in that spot. white as her pretty muslw gown; and here

ho himself raging against coercion, tramp ling ruthlessly underfoot Jonasl Claflin's glowing flowers. Well, well, it was allowr and done with, only he did so wish ho could sea for just fivo minutes Marc Tracy, or hear ii'om Volla that all was woll between them. A hurrying step—tho rustle of a drese. " My boy !" "Aunt Dolly!" " Woron't you surprised I" He drew up a chair for her, and puckered his handsome mouth into a whistling shape. "Surprised!" with a little comical cat call. " That's nto word at. all for it. I declare, when Captain Cosbello showod me tho paper to-day 1! stood and stared at tho lines like an idiot. That was tho first I saw of it, you know." Miss Dorothy's plump white har.ds fluttered with sudden restlaesaoss. " What was that nnmo, dear? CosteUo!" " Yss. A now f riond of uuino—a regular old trump ! By tho way you used to know him, Aunt Dolly I" "IV" oxcitodly. " Oh, yom must bo mis takon ! I—l did know agon tloman of that name onco, but it was —oh, dear mo, ever so many yoara ago. This can't bo tho same !" Tho lad's oyes, "brown as .a forest brook," regarded her quizzically. " What will yon bet, Aunt Dolly ?" All in a tremor Miss Vornoll stood up. " It isn't s>ossiblo ! To think of his turn ing up after till these years. Ifi it roally Terence Costollo V" Voylo, sitting on .tho centra writing table, swinging his logs idi'y, laughed out at her faltering query. "It is roally Toronco Costollo—Captain Torcnce Coßtollo ! I spont las* ovoning at hiff house, and a jolly hospitable old soul he is!" "Old!" exclaimed Miss Dorothy. And thon she paused abruptly. " To bo euro !" with a shaky little laugh, "If I wasn't about to protest that he was young and handsome—l can't think of him as a middio-aged man—not rollicking Terence Costello ! Doar, dear I" Sho was moro moved than sfio cared to show. Tho old hoart under tho mignonette merino gown was boating tumulfcuously. Sho i» tho shock of inrushing old momories, and ho fascinatod in liis task of resurrecting a long-buriod romanco, quite forgot for tho momont that which brought them together. " Well, I can assure you ho isn't young, Aunt Dolly- And as to beauty—well, ovory eye forms its own, they say, and thero you must judge fior yoursolf. Sit down, Aunt Dolly !" Miss Vornci'l smiled and sat down again, with an air »o thoroughly composed and oa.uy as to arouse no suspicion in the mind of tho least acute observer. "In the first; place, ho is very stout!" went on Voyle, thoeo bright, mischievous oyea of his intent on tho fresh old face, whoro the ashes of roses wore brightening into quite a youthful glow. " Stout .'" in vigorous dissent. " Bless you, ho was slender, and tall, and straight as "

" I'm siwo ho was.'" gravoly. Sho laugiSed. "There now!" smoothing out her soft grconish gown with two "trembling" hands, "if you huvon't caught mo again !" " And ho is baldhoadod—all eavo a greyish fringe. and wears n board and " "Nonsense*"' cried Miss Dorothy, in a tone which niad'o him jump. " That never is Terry Costellc ! Why, ho had a head of the thickest, curliest hair, and his faco was as smooth as yoiu1 own—the idea !" Voylo ilunjjj buck his head and laughed, a boy's ringing, heairty laugh, infectious and good to hear, '' You dear, foolish old auntio, you ! Hot g many years sinco you havo soon him ?" Miss Dorothy pondered an instant. Th'jn, "I think," a trifle roluctantly, "about thirty!" , " And can't a man ftrow a beard ant/ got bald in thirty year's timof Oh, Aunt Dolly !" She joined in his imorriment. " You'ro right, my laddie I" wiping hor oyes. "But how quickly ono duos grow old—doesn't ono?" "Not this ono!" cl'ioorily, and bonding to kiss hor hot chook. "You'll nover bo j old, Aunt Dolly. Such hearts as y ours do not ago or pour. They are a porpotual youth-spring !" Hor bltio oyos grow moist at tho praiso. She put up her hands, drew down ,'nis golded bead: a.id roturnod wan tily hU ci> reas. "Thank you, my doan'o !" "By tho way," lio said, suddenly, "what about Volla? I tamo ovor to hoar tho par ticulars concerning hor. You only told me she was safo nnd woll." " That is all tliore in to fiell. A telegram camo from lior this morning. Hero, road it yourself." " Doesn't it appear as though she had only just reached Philadelphia?" when ho had peruecd it. "That is exactly what .it moans, too. Now that sho is all right I iviill toll you alii know abont her detention on. tho way." And this ho did, relating also all ho had hoard from tho Costollos con corning hor. Miss Dorothy listonod wondor-strickon, trembling, rejoiced at hor escape. She turnod up hor tearful eyes when ho had finished. " Doar Lord, I thank Th oo !" sho mur mured, fervently. Ho onjo.yod immonsoly tho quiot humour of tho whclo affair. "Such a charmine family as tho old follow has, auntio ; two girls nnd a boy." " Indeed!" Sho was busily engaged £n tucking into hor belt tho eivls of hor ombc oidorod muslin fichu. " Yos. I told you his wifo was injured in tho collision, and diod almont immediately altor. didn't I?" "Yos." How much troublo thcro was in making that scarf of soft Hnowiness Ik' smooth, any " Did you know her, too, Aunt Dolly?" " No, 1 hoard of hor." Silonoo. "Aunt Dolly !" "Woll?" But sho did not lock up. "Ho says you boxed his ears once. Is that ko ?" " Oh !" exclaimed Mies Dorothy. "No!" in deliberate misconstruction. " That was just what I supposed!," with his most innocent air. "I knew would novor bo capable of such an act1" She glanced mp in feeblo protest. <« I—l didn't mean exactly no, my dear. I think I said'oh.'" "Did you? How stupid of mo? Well, anyhow, you didn't do it." She was cornered, and sho knew it, but never a word could she say. Voyle put on an air of horioo resolution, "It's shameful of CoBtollo," in gloomy and wrathful resentment, which would have done credit to Lester Wallack, " to slander you so ! I wortder ho dared to attempt it to mo, who knows you so woll, and—" "My dear !" weakly. "Well?" '• I—l did!" Dead silence. Oh, why didn't bespeak—say something! " I—l did, Voylo!" in quavering reputi tion. And now he spoke. " You did !" transfixing her with a stony stare. " Oh, Aunt Dolly !" The shocked pain in his voice was ad mirable. Out of the dear little lady b cheoks went fading tho roses of Life's Indian summer. " I'll tell you how it was, Voyle." He leaned his olbow on bis knee and his head on his hand.

" Go on," in a stifled voice. " Well, it was on Christmas Day—no, tho day beforo Christmas. I was up on a ladder, hanging up a bunch of mistletoe. Psh;iw ! I shan't mind tolling you about it vow. When I camo down tho ladder, look ing up the whilo to soe if it hung evenly, some one caught me just as I reached the bottom—caught mo right in his arms and—" She paused. " And what ?" came the low, questioning

voice. "And—oh, you know. Ki—ki— Bssed me, of course I" "Of course! I'd have done the same thing in his place." "And whoever was it," she went on, in excited recollection, "but that impudent Terence Costello ! I declare Iwas so angry, I up and boxed his ears well for him— there!"

Again absolute silence. How the moments dragged ! She had not considered it such a crime then. She had never thought of it since without a sense of burning shame, but this confession was the worst and hardest of all.

" Voyle !" she ventured, timidly. He was shaking from head to foot, ! ■ Voyle !" repeated the poor little crimi nal, beseechingly. He sprang off the table and stood before her, eyes alight and lips apart, laughing out as royal youth only can in a very par oxysm of mirth. " Oh, Aunt Dolly! I don't wonder he kissed you. I'm willing to bet my last dol lar he was over head and ears in love with you ! I don't see how he could have helped it. Ten to three I'll shake a foot at your

wedding yet. Will you take me ? There, there ! I rotract. Are you going to laugh or cry ? To laugh ? That's right 1 Now, I'm off!" She followed him to the door. "Won't youtuke yourthingsnow, Voyta?" "Thanks, no. I'm going up to 6eeowon Cogtello. I'll call round for them—when did I say I would como?—next Tuosday ovonmg ? Yes ; I'm going up to Costollo's. Any message? You know I'm in the old gentleman's sorvico now." " You rascal!" And she shook her plump forefinger at tho arch, smiling face turned hack to her. " Oniy your love '! Very well. I guoss he won't want any more." And then, with another oxplosivo laugh : " Oh, arn't you ashamed of yourself, you sly, shy Aunt Dolly J" {To be Continued.)

The Butlers of Great Men.

(Ihtebviewku by Ouk Own Baok-mtaiiis RISMtKHHNTATIVK.)

No. ll.—At tho Earl of D by's " Ir you'ro an Australian mombor of Parlia ment, or somo grumbling loafer of that sort, you know, you hud better go and bully thorn in Downing strcot—it's no uso trying it on here." This was my lirst vory natural greoting at tho distinguished statesman's area-gato. A word or two, howovcr, explained tho ■ nature of my mission, and I soon found my self looking through doors ajar, and quietly creoping along back passages under tho guidance of my condescending but com municativo informant. " This," ho said, showing mo a largo empty room with a highly polished floor, " is whero His Lordship has his favourito game of Blindman's Buff. He is always at it. But it's mostly on Saturday afternoons, when ho can manage to got the whole Cabinot to comedown and tulco a turn with him, that he ge'.s his best go. He's 1 Blindman' tho v nole time, for he never catches anybody."

" Dear me," I replied, surprised but in terested, "doos oven tho Foreign Socrotary manago to get out of his way?" "Bloss you, sir. every one of them," was his laconic answer. Besides, ho likes boing in tho dark, and not knowing whoro lio'h going to," ho added, thoughtfully. " He's always bcon Hko that over sinco ho was a boy."

" Then that may account," I suggested, "in some measure for his npparont in decision in pubjic affairs? You know," I continued, wither emboldened by a Blight twinkle I fnjicy 1 dotectod in my informant's eyo, "that what with his saying one thing one day, ajid anothor tho next, he some times scarcely sooms to ba politically tho same porsoo for a fortnight together." "Then you've novpr hoard the story?' asked my -guide, oponing anoth or door, and laughing pleasantly to himself. "No? Woll, yovi do surprise me!" h« continued, ushoricp me at tko same moment into a handHunMo apartment, ovidontly dovotod to the performance of private tlioatricalp. " I L'h vory simple ; and, as I'vo often ro mar! ted to mysolf, explains a good doal." " Go on !" I said, mochauicallv. " Woll," ho rojoincd, "it's meroly, you kii' jw, that His Lordship has always boen vf ry fond of this sort of thing." He pointed t' i tho stage as ho spoko. " Posing and all t Jiat, you see— it scorns to como natural to him ; and among his chief hits - ho only plays to mo and the otljar gentlemon and tho housokeopor and a few of tl\o uppors— is 'Tho Corsican Brothers.' Well, in putting that up, and ho's vory care t'ul in such things, ho got such a capital double—a rotired clown—for tho ghost, that I'll tell you what, sir, &ftor that performance waa over, not ono, for the life of us, could toll which was which, and, though I chalked tho Earl my solf just to mako .sure- of him, tho next tine I mot thorn both ut rehearsal, there waa no mistako about it—l couldn't havo picked him out if you had oH'ored mo a couple of sovereigns ! Now do you understand," ho •ddod, with a significant nod of inquiry, " what has como of that resomblance ?"

" You don't moan that when ho's tirod he sends —woll, the othor down to tako his place at tho Foroign Ollico';" "Send him down? Kathor. What do you say to hist trying it on at a Cabinet Council, too?" I involuntarily gavo a long low whistle A light scorned to dawn on mo. Some strange contradictory, and puzzling evolu tions of policy seemed to bo slowly explain ing thom«olvos boforo mo. " Hut his colleagues '!" 1 asked. "Suspect something, I fancy—but aro far too 'onto to Kay anything about it." This was certainly a etrango revelation, yot still did not account for everything. A thought occurred to mo. " His spare timo," 1 inquired, "how does ho spond that?"

Wo wcro entering a spacious schoolroom now. In tho window woro two largo tor rostial globos ; on the walls sovoral colossal mops. I walked in. At a study tablo near tho firoplaco I discovered ovidencos of recout work. I lookod at tho butler—but I had anticipated his explanation.

" Ho knows nothing about it—novordid," ho said, with an expropsivo wink. " Bo twixt you and mo, he's making up for lost timo, but ho hasn't, got first-class materials to go upon. Look at that thoro."

1 took up tho pioco of papor to which ho pointed. It was a map of South Africa, without any indication of tho Camoroons. At thnt momont a hiirriod Rtop was hoard on tho stairs, and wo instinctively rotired behind a hugo swing chart of tho Congo, "as known to tho geographers in tho year 18!17."

"In it ho—or tho other?" I asked, in a whisper, ns tho familiar figuro of tho Earl ontcrod tho room.

" Blost if I can toll yet. Wait." Tho fi^uro sat down at tho tablo, and throwing up its armß, cried, almost pas sionatoly, " Zanzibar ! Who ever hoard of Zanzibar ?"

" It's him !" said tho butler, undor his broath.

In anothor minute I was in St. Jamos's Square)—a sadder but wisor man,— " Punch."

Rules for Good Health.

Slew, like any other appetite, can bo cul tivated and pamporcd; and just an a mouthful of food more than we really want is waste, and something worse, bo every wink of sloop more than wo need is doad loss, and that without the redeeming quality of over-oating and drinking, viz., pleasure, says Rev. H. L, Haweis. For to be asleep snot pleasure; simply dead loss. To sleep from 11 to 0 in the morning is too much ; from 11 till 6 should be, and is, for our nveragely healthy and normally constituted, quite enough. Tho point I want to fix especially is those precious hours before breakfast. How many people only begin their day after breakfast, say about 10 o'clock 1 I myself lived for nearly forty yearn without roaliaing that I had thrown away about twenty-one thousand nine hundred hours of good working life. Of courso, the candle cannot be burned at both ends. You must get your sleep. I have known more than one professional man to succumb to the habit of retiring too late and rising too early. That was the beginning of my poor f riond the late Baron Amphlet'B collapse. As Q.C. he never should have gone into Parliament, and when he retired from the House on a judgeship the mischief was done. Ho used to be up late with briefs, or down at the House till 2 or 3, rise at 6, light his own fire and work till 9. All such overpressure is, of course, bad. Young men may stand it for a few years—young men can stand almost anything for a few years—but it is a vicious principle. Give the body its dues, or the body will revenge itself. Still, to acquire tho habit of early rising is worth an effort. I recommend it for hoalth and pleasure as_ well as for profit. No one knows how radiant and vigorous nature looks who has not cared to assist her at early toilet, and seen her bathing herself in crystal dew and decking herself with opening blossoms between 4 and (> o'clock on a midsummer morning. So much and how much more for the pleasure-seeker? But the 6arly-rising worker all the year round is rewarded by an increase of produce, an economy of time, and an invigoration of mind and body. Morning literary work is usually characterised by freshness, contin uity, grasp, and vigour jnighfcwork by fever, excitement, and less condensation. This I believe to be the rule, and with exceptions, in speaking thus generally, it is, of course, impossible to deal. Of one thing lam cer tain, that for all headworkera, especially literary men, the following rules will be found golden :— To bed before 12. To work before 7. As little liquid as possible, and no smok ing before breakfast.

GLIMPSES OF THE SUPER NATURAL.

" What may this mean That them, dead corso, again Hovißit'st thus tho glimpses of tho moon, Making night hidecmßJ" " Hamlet," Act 1., Sceno 4,

A Scientist's Glimpse.

It may seem again like kicking away the scaffolding with which wo are building up our structure when we entertain the possi bility—shall we add the probability ?—that science may be destined one of these days to eliminate the word "supernatural " from our vocabulary. It is essentially a limiting word. It makos nature co-extensive with our knowledge of nature. Nothing is really above or beyond natural laws, how over it may transcend our cognisance of thoso laws. This is tho position actually assumod by the Psychical Kescarch Society, or at all events by its founder, the late Sergeant Cox. He postulated the existence of a psychic force which should be adequate to tho explanation of all these mysteries, ancient and modern, of which we treat. And long before the learned sergeant postu lated, or the Psychical Research Society was born or thought of, Professor Do Mor gun, in [his tronchant preface to his wife's volume, " From Matter to Spirit," surmised that there might bo natural causes to account for thoso strange ofl'ects, the exist onco of which he could not call in question without impugning tho evidence of those sonses on which wo rely in matters of overy day life. What if science bo destined to correlate thoso forces under some such head as oloctricity or magnetism ? In that sparkling little San Francisco paper, "Tho Argonaut," appears a story by Mr Robert Duncan Milne, which, under tho garb of fiction, enunciates tho very hypo thesis to which reference has just been miide It opens thus : — " The magic of tho nineteenth century !" I exclaimed. "Tho term is so variously employed that it becomes necessary for mo to know how you apply it before we can comprehend each other exactly." " Well," responded Ashloy, "I take it to moan the production of phenomena by natural means, which nevertheless seem supernatural, or boyond thu present scope of applied science." "As, for instance?" I inquired.

" Well, as, f»r instance, the faculty of in tercomunication between persons separated by immense distances without the medium, aay, of a tangible, pbyei-jal tolographic wire."

"But, in that case, ' 1 remarked, "and granting, for the sake of argument, that the intercommunication you describe might bo carried en without the medium of a wire, how would you explain it?" "By supposing, returned Ashloy, " the existence of a real and actual medium whereby communications can bo transmitted, though such medium is imperceptible to our ordinary senses, and cannot be weighed or measured by ordinary scientific instru ments."

Tho story, whioh is obviously usod only us a vehicle for putting forward a scientific theory of tho supernatural, is briofly as follows:—

Dr. Gerald Ashley is in love with a young lady named Julia lladeliffo, who ia travel ing with hor father, a wealthy Sun Fran cisco merchant, Hor lottore have bcon of lato cooler and less frequent. Ho would know tho oause ; and his friend, who tolls the Htory, takes him to a certain Professor Vohr, with whom the latter had held some provious communication. This is what the piofossor had to say on the subjoct—our subject:— "You have repeated your visit," he eaid, " with a viow to further investigate tho occult. Good. I shall bo happy to oblige you—tho moro so as I havo myself been pur suing tho investigation!, and have arrived at ovon moro subtile elucidations of tho onergios conserved in tho fluid wo call oloctricity than those which you witnessed in tho caso of the mirror. Thoro this pheno menon was continod to the reproduction of optical effect, with a certain reaction on Hie substantial forms of which the figures on tho mirror were the simulacra. Now lam able to oxort an uctual physical oontrolover tho voices as well as tho minds of distant porsons thomsolvcs, so as, if necessary, to oven transport them from piano to placo." I was struck with the last observation of tho professor, and with tho resemblances of its cliiim to that of the depths of tho Oriental Thntwophy, and so intimated. II It iH quite true," ho paid, "that, this formafatioii of tho energy I have just hinted at is, in ofl'ect, tho samo as that controlled by tho Thoosophista. It may be also that, in ono foiifo, thoy havo arrived at that moro comploto mastery over nature whores tho moro effort of mind and will is able to produce offects which I can only obtain in natural corollarios of laws which tho world at largo possesses. Still, ovon granting that such is tho case, my mode of procedure for obtaining my results does not entail thoao ponaltios for their abuse to which ex plorors into tho roalms of tho occult under purely physical conditions are oxposod." Tho narrator of tho story had written to tho professor on tho subject of Gerald Ashley's lady-lovo; and the savant was roady to bring his scionco to boar on tho project of obtaining information about hor, or, ho addod, for "a still moro hazardous experiment, if it becomes necessary, and if you have courage enough to undortake it." Ho had fitted up an apparatus liko a largo diving boll, but which waa really a huge Lovdon jar, that was charged by means of wiros from the Electric Lighting Company, and inside which tho porson to bo expori montod upon was soatod. In this position tho anxious lover was placed, first of all for tho preliminary purpose of gaining informa tion aa to tho absent fair ono. An electro • motor was attached to rogulate tho amount of tho charge ; and tho effects of the two ex porimotit..« nro thus vividly described : — It was now apparent, that whilo wo wore conversing Ashloy had closed his oyos, and was now reclining back in his chair, seem ingly in do^p slo»p, liiß hands still clasping tho handios of th« telegraph-wires that ran into the interior of tho boll.

" That is t ho first effect of a moderately strong chargo of Btatic electricity in the human frnnv, ' explained the professor. " It induces a highly wrought condition of tho norvo*, which in their turnact upon tho ganglion of tho brain ; that, in its turn reacting again, through the duplex series of norves. upon tho wire held in the left hand, which brings tho holder into com munication with whatever object enthrals his attention at tho time of trance. The experiment is, in effect, clairvoyance re dused to an art, the mesmeric trance ac eompiished by sciontifio means and con ditioned by the recognised and accepted laws of electrical science. Your friend is now, as I verily believe, in direct spiritual communication with her who is dearest to his heart — the last object that held possession of his soiil before tho mesmeric-electric trance overtook him. I will put myself in com munication with him and ascertain."

The professor then walked around to the side of the bell whore the wires entered the glass, and applied the forefinger of either hand to the orifices. As he did so, Ashloy gave a visible start. His eyes, however, still remained closed.

"Have you seen her?" asked the pro fessor, in deliberate tones, bending his spectacled eyes upon Ashley, "Where is aha ? What do you see ?" "I see a vast building—a collection of vase buildings. I see throngs of people, gaily dressed, walking in and out of them, and parading the beautiful grounds which surround them. Ifc reminds ue of the Centennial Exposition of 76." "He is evidently in New Orleans," ob served the professor to me. "I have no question that Miss Radcliffe is there. Do you see the lady?" he continued, address ing my friend. "Ha ! There I" responded Ashley, with animation. "There is Julia with her father and mother, and stay !—there is an other—a tall, handsome man, who has just approached the party. He takes off his hat and bows. He steps to Julia's side. She shrinks a little as he approaches. Mr and Mrs Radcliffe smile as he proffers his arm. They walk on. He is bending over Julia and conversing in low, passionate tones. He is telling her that he loves her. She listens to him as in a dream. He presses his suit more vehemently. They have left or lost her father and mother in the crowd. They are now alone in a little Moorish kiosk. He bends down and kisses her, and though she shudders she does not move away. Merciful heavens !" and with a start Gerald Ashley awoke. The professor eyed him calmly. •' Are you satisfied ?'' he said. Great beads of perspiration were standing on Ashley's brow. He looked the picture of agony and apprehension. "You have been there in spirit," said the professor. "You know and appreciate the position your love is in. Would you re gain her ? Would you save her to yourself ? Do you dare to appear betide her in bodily form, and bring her back with you here, wresting her from the new lover who has gained dominion over her, and whom, if

you hesitate now, you will be powerless to rival ? Do you trust to my art ? Believe me, I sympathise with you, and will help you if I can," and tho professor looked calmly and steadily into the eyes of tho man inside the bell.

"I am willing to encounter any risk," responded Ashley, "to regain the love of my betrothed. What must I do?" "Simply retain your clasp upon the handles," eaid the professor calmly. " Keep your attention fixed, as heretofore, and you will presently be in the kiosk of the New Orleans Exposition, not in spirit as you were a minute ago, but in actual, physical body. When you find yourself there, I leave it to yourself to regain the affections of your betrothed. Leave it to me to bring you both here. Be careful, though, not to loosen your clasp on her hand when the! wire sounds the call to re turn. Go, and fortune attend you."

Ashley again clasped the handles of the wires with a set determination in his face which betokened that ho realised and appre ciated every detail of the professor's advice. The latter walked with somewhat quicker step than was hi 9 wont to the insulators where tho wires of the Eloctric Lighting Company lay, and proceeded to adjust them to their respective places on the bell as be foro. Presently Ashley's head fell back upon the chair as before, and hie eyes closed. Tho professor took out his watch, looked at it somewhat nervously, approached the bell at intervals with his olectro-meter, and paced tho floor.

"My instrument is based," he explained to me, "on a centigrade scale of my own. It will take some time for a bell of the size you see before you to become fully charged with the fluid, oven with my wires, which I hare had convoyed almost straight from headquarters; and until the bell is fully charged the experiment cannot be consu mmated.

Wo waited patiently for some minutes more, Ashley murmuring meanwhile: "New Orleans ; kiosk; I can see her ; I can see him, but I cannot approach her ; her father and mother are searching anxiously for her through other portions of the grounds." Presently my friend became silent. Tho professor again, for the fifth ox sixth time, approached the bell and applied his instru ment.

" Hush !" said ho. " The tension in the bell is now augmonting rapidly. A short timo moro, and wo shall witness the success ful accomplishment of our experiment." As he spoke, I noticed a change taking place in Ashloy. Seated there, as he was, his head leaning on the back of his chair, his hands grasping the electrodes, I dis tinctly saw his form become thin, filmy, and transparent. Moment by moment more thin, filmy, and transparent it grew, till the attenuation was such that even the outline was scarcely visible. The handß alone, of all portions of the body, retained something of their pristine substantiality. "Ho has gone," whispered the professor, with subdued excitement. "We must now gaugo the timo till we can reasonably presume that he had accomplished his pur pose, regaining his betrothed, and take measures for their return—the return of both, for if he bo without her, little would be gained. She would again, doubtless, as soon as her lover had left her, become amen able to him who gained a dominion over her in tho absonce of hor original lover, and whoso supromacy would be restored." " But how —how"—I stammered—"how is this to be accounted for ? What has be como of my friend who was seated there but a momsnt ago ?"

"Tho simplest thing in the world, my dear sir," rcpliod the professor earnestly. " You desire to know why your friend's body has disappeared ? Would you ask the samo question had that body been exposed to intense heat ? You answer, no ; because you say that it is a recognised law of chem istry that the most refractory substances— rock or metal—aro first melted aud then volatilised by heat. Heat, in effect, expands and disintegrates the mass, and docollocates tho atoms of every known substance. The static electricity with which that glass bell is charged is, in ono sense, a correlative of heat, and in anothor, a correlative of the physical energy which we call spirit. Is it wonderful, therefore, that tho intense force with which that bell is laden should suffico to produce tho effects which you now witness 1 There is nothing wonderful, my dear sir, in any chemical process, no matter how apparently incomprehensible and in oxplicablo it may bo. You huvo seen a solid block of ico made instantaneously in and projoctod from a rod hot crucible. Is what is now boing done any more incompre hensible than that ? Say t !iat tho human body you lately saw bol'urc you has been volatilisod, rosolved into its primary ele ments, and thon, through tho agency of tho psychic power resident within it, has been transmitted to tho spot whioh that psychic power had most in viow, along tho ordinary toleeraph wires which connect us with that spot. Sound waves can be transmitted in this manner by tho telephone; light waves aro amenable to tho samo law —why, then should not this law apply to matter which has been otheroaliscd to tho same degree as light and sound ? It is but carrying the subject to its legitimate conclusions. But stay ! Hush I Here thoy como I" As tho professor spoke, I became aware of and dim a shadowy form shaping itself within the boll. As it gained shape I discerned, with what feelings of awo can be imagined, that there was not one form, but doo. Slowly but gradually the dim form assumed a moro bodily and distinct aspect. 1 came in a very few seconds to realise that the forms which stood before me in tho boll wore those of Gerald Ashley and his atlianccd bride, Julia Radcliffe. There could be no doubt about the matter. Thero they stood in distinct bodily form, but still with a bewildered, dreamy look upon them, as though scarcely awakened from sleep. Such is the story, minus only an anti climax which was probably added in defer enco to tho requirements of a realistic ago and generation. Glimpses into the super natural need no such disillusionising; they would, no doubt, resent it. In fact, the author is perceptibly writing against his better judgment, for he still says that the oventa in tie professor's room tallied with those which took place elsewhere. On that day Miss Julia Radcliffe had disappeared from New Orleans, the last time that she had been seen being in a certain kiosk in the Exposition grounds with a Mr Arthur Livingstone, though that gentleman avers that be saw her approached by some Btran ger, who claimed an acquaintanceship with her, and with whom she disappeared in the crowd a short time afterward. When Mr Livingstone was pressed for a description of the gentleman in question, Mr and Mrs Radcliffe were at once convinced that it could be no one elee but Doctor Gerald ABhley; and while sadly recriminating him for such a hasty and unadvised step as eloping with their daughter, have no doubt that the pair will turn up when it becomes expedient to do so. " As for mo," adds the author on his own account, " I have taken pains to verify the date of the disappearance of Miss Julia Raddiffe at New Orleans, and find it to be the same day and hour as Dr. Gerald Ashley s aud my own visit to Professor Vehr's apart ments on the night of the grand explosion at the Palace Hotel. I have arrived at a certain conclusion on the facts, and consider that the most judicious as well as the most sympathetic course I can pursne, under the circumstances, is to place the foregoing factß before the public just as they are."

JUST HIS LUCK.

Sad Disappointment of a Fighting Young Englishman.

" I wish I was in London now," said a young Englishman on the front end of the car. " I would enlist and go down to Egypt, by Jove, I would. It makes my boil to think of it."

" Whatch ye leave Lun'on for, in do furst place ?" asked the driver, as he pulled the chain around the brake until the hind end of the horse came over the dashboard.

" Oh, I left London, you know, to come to this blawsted country, and got here just as the war ceased. That's just my luck, by Jove, always to get in too late. I was sorry the war was over when I got here. I would have liked it, yon know, to have taken a hand in this American war."

" So yau'd like to go down to Egypt and take a hand ?" asked the rl river.

"Yaws, I would, by .'ove. But .wats the use? It would be over before I got there. That would be just my luck, you know."

" Whoa !" yelled the driver, tying the lines around the brake. " Say, my young feller, I'm kind o' head of time this trip, and I've got a few minutes to 3par. I'm again England for every confounded thing you 'kin think of it, and I come from Egypt myself. An' as you're spilin' for a fight an' its never been your luck to git into one, I'll just wallup you in that sowdrift, for luck." " But I get off here, my deah fellow, any way, you know. It's just my luck, by Jove. Good-day, you know.

LEON GAMBETTA.

Founder of tho French [Opportuniste Party.

[A resume of a paper read before the Auct land French Literary Society by A. Villeval, Hon. Sec]

Lkon Gambetta was born at Cahors, on the 3rd of April, 1838. His father, of Genoan origin, kept a small grocer's shop in that town, and succeeded in creating a good situation for his family. He sent his son to the seminary, and although he destined him to the priesthood, young Leon showed so littlo inclination for it that he was obliged to tako him out of the seminary and to send him to the Lycde, where young Gambotta achieved the most brilliant successes. On caving the Lyc6e, he went to Paris to attend the courses of the School of Law. At the quariier Latin, ho soon attained a kind of supremacy over his condisciples, who liked to hear him speaking, and already foresaw what he was to be one day. Born an orator, he had the gifb-of interesting his hearers with subjects most trifling in ap pearance. One would have thought that in these controversies among students ho pre pared himself for the great rOlo ho would havo to play, that he tried his oratorical power, and was studying the effect his arguments produced. In 1859, he was admitted as a member of the Parisian bar, and was for a while secretary to Lachaud, the groat lawyer. At that time Gambetta was only known by his fellowstudenta and waß waiting for an opportunity to display the resources of a talent which wanted only to see the light to place itself in the first rank. He soon left Lochaud to go with Crdmieux, who was Ministor of Justice in IS4S, and it was witli him that Gambetta commenced his reputation as a lawyer. Ho appeared for the defence in several political trials, and in each of those the young lawyer showed a new quality. But it was only in IS6B that ho became really prom inent. He was engaged by Delescluze, a Republican journalist, to defend him in one of the most celebrated political cases of the Second Empiro (the proces Baudin). This case, Empire v. Republic, commenced the ruin of the Imperial dynasty, and Gam betta's speech, a most brilliant improvisa tion, was the condemnation of the covp d'etat of the 2nd of December, 1851. The day after this trial Gambetta's name was in every mouth, and even the enemies of the Kepublican party admired this lawyer who all at once had placed himself prominently among all the illustrious men of the French bar. France, so prolific in talented orators, reckoned a tribune more, a tribune whose powerful voice was to give France a liberty of which she had been deprived so long. When the general elections for the Chamber of Deputies took place, Gambetta was olected at Paris and at Marseilles, where ho had as opponents M. Thiars and M. de Lensops, whom he defeated by a large majority. The electors understood what future and virility there were in that young man of thirty-one years of age. Ho had scarcely taken his seat in the Chamber of Deputies when ho made a sensational speech in favour of Rochefort, then a Deputy, who was prosecuted for having written an incendiary articlo in which he called the people to arms to fight against a dynasty which had in its midst the murderer of Victor Noir, Prince Pierre Bonaparte. In 1871, apropos of the plebiscite he made a speech which created a great sensation in the country, and in which he pointed out the instability of tho Empire, which was then beginning to totter to its destruction.

Everyone knows with what rapidity the events connected with* the Franco- German War went on, and as what belongs to the declaration of war is outside of my subject, I shall pass it over. However, I must say that at the beginning of our first disasters, Gam betta would not take advantage of the diflicultios the Government met with. He refused to listen to the offers which eomo Republicans made to him to provoke a rising of the people against the existing power. Ho did not want, patriot as lie was, to paralyse the strength of tho country in so critical a momont. But as soon aa tho result of the battle of Sedan was known, when he saw his fatherland at the mercy of foreigners, when tho Empire had just buried itself under tho universal contempt, he no longer hesitated. He felt that there was a great task to accomplish, that it wa« necessary to show to the wholo world that if France had allowed herself to bo debased by Corsican adventurers, she had still enough blood to preserve her honour, and to make herself respected, and even admired by other nations. He there fore became one of the founders of the Republic, which proved to be the regener ation of France.

On the 4th of September, 1870, when the Republic was proclaimed, he was chosen Minister of the Interior by his colleagues, and in that capacity rendered innumerable services to his country. After the battle of Sedan the Germans marched against Paris, and the Government resolved to send a deputation to Tours to organise tho defence. Soon afterwards Paris was surrounded by the German troops, and the communications with the other provinces became more and more difficult. We heard from the pro vinces by reports which pigeons carried to Paris, and we sent our reports and corres pondence by balloon. On the 7th of Octo ber, when the Germans commenced to bom bard our fortifications, we heard that the organisation of the defence in the province was far from being satisfactory, and the Government resolved to send Gambetta as their most energetic member to take steps which might enable the country to defend itself. Gambetta left Paris in a balloon, and went through all kinds of dangers. He arrived at last at Tours, and things took at once quite another aspect. He sent to all parts of the country proclamations, the energetic and patriotic tone of which produced an immense impres sion. He reminded the population of the glory of the first Republic, when the people fought bare-footed against the best armies in Europe to obtain their liberty. He showed our fathers fighting at Jemmapes, and at Valmy to the strains of the Marseillaise. He entreated his countrymen to forget the eighteen years of effeminacy they had gone through, to resume again the virility of the great days of the Revolution. Eloquent speaker and man of action, he attended to everything; the management of public services as well as the organisation of armies; the strategic combinations of policy as well as the operations on the battlefield. He was every where ; it seemed that he had the gift of übiquity. To-day he was at Lyons, t_> morrow at Lille, the day after' at Orleans; everywhere the sound of his words, full of warmth, excited the enthusiasm of the people. He organised the army of Loire, the command of which he gave to the Gene rals d'Aurelles de Poladines and Chauzy ; the army of the North, which he entrusted to General Paidherbe ; the army of the East, of which he appointed Bourbaki com mander; and, in fine, he applied to the modern Bajard—to Garibaldi —who, re membering that Italy, united and free, was indebted to France for her liberty, came and placed his sword at the service of the French Republic, with his sons Menotti and Riccioti.

On the 3lßt of October, when the treason of Metz was known, Gambetta addressed to the French people an ardent appeal. Ho showed thorn tho wounds of the father land ; but, full of hope and cnorgy, ho exhorted all citizens to arm thom solves to drive away the invaders; lie advocated defence till tho laat drop of blood should have been shod; ho dis played all his energy to avoid the dismemberment of France. Never, in so critical a circumstance, had such a man been seen, dealing with everything in such a masterly manner. When everyone doubted of France, lie alone remained firm and un flinching ; healonehad confidence in a people who had to fight for their liberty, for the integrity of their territory. But, alas! events were stronger than the will and the firmness of one man. The Empire had disorganised everything during its eighteen years of reign. The soldiers and the edu cated officers had been changed by the im perial regime into dandies and courtiers, and when Gambetta was looking for men he met only with admirers of the "Grand Duchess " and the habitues of the opera house. Nevertheless, thanks to his perseverance, he improvised armies and generals, and the only successes Franco can boast of were achieved by the generals of his choice: Faidherbe, Chnuzy, d'Aurelles de Polac'ines, and. Garibaldi. If Paris*, that is to say, if Trochu had helped Gambetta, if the Governor of Paris, instead of deceiving the Parisians, I had led them to the battle-field as they

asked him, as they wero willing to do, on the day of the battle of Coulommiers, Paris could have joined the army of tho Loire, and things might havo then changed; but the generals and rapportersof the standing army were not pleased at the idea of seeing an army composed of citizens freeing France when their own army had failed. They would not understand that there only was the strength of the nation ; they did not re member that during the glorious years of the Revolution it was the people who fought, and those who then ruled France had enough confidence to entrust them with the honour of saving the country. Gonorals ! They had none yesterday, but to-day a Hoche, a Klcber, a Morceau come out from tho ranks and lead, them to victory. Trochu, the great general of 1870, made only plans, and amused tho Parisians until starvation had reduced the city to the last extremity, and all tho efforts of the great patriot failed before tho inaction ot those who had in their hands the elite of the nation. When all waa over, when France had breathed her last, Gambetta tendered his resignation as a member of tho Government, and waited for tho olections which were to take place. He was elected by nino different departments or districts, amongst others Bas-fihin, Haut-Rhin, and Moselle, which now are German. He chose to repre sent Bas-Rhin, and at the time of the discussion of the conditions of peace be op posed the cession of Alsace and Lorraine to Germany, and even proposed to fight again, and when peace was signed he left the National Assembly with tho Alsacian-Lor roine deputies. He then went to Spain to enjoy a rest, which his fatigues had rendered necessary. At the elections of ""v» 1871, he was again elected by three departments, and represented Paris at Uie Assembly. In November, 1871, he started the "Republique Frangaise, a daily newspaper, which took a prominent place amongst the leading Parisian journals on account of the value of the articles it published. Soon after he started tho petite "Republique- Fran.;aise," a half-penny journal which spread the ideas and policy of Gambjtta among tho working classes. In the Assembly he was indefatigable in en deavouring to unite all the Republicans under one flag, in order to fight tho Legiti mist and Orleanist parties, which threatened to rule over the Assembly. He failed, and it was then he founded tho " Opportuniste party, which was to secure for France the Liberal institutions she possesses now. The Opportuniste party met with a strongopposi tion not only from the lovers of monarchy, but also from certain Republicans, who, under the nameof "lntraneigeants." did not understand that the best policy at llic time was the one which, little by little, without boasting, without confusion, gave to France one by one the liberties sho had been so long asking for. The negotiations of Gambetta, his speeches, the influence he had acquired over the people gave him a great weight at tho National Assembly, and it is owing to his initiative that is duo the constitution which rendered Republic the legal govern ment of France (25th February, 1875). At the general elections of 1870 he went on a Parliamentary tour, and the result of his speeches brought a Republican majority to the Chamber of Doputies. Ho was himself elected by four departments. From that day he was really the unopposed loader of the Republican majority. When Marshal MacMahon dissolved the Chamber of Depu-

ties, Gambetta again visited the large cities of France, and under his influence all the Republican representatives were re-elected. At last Marshal MacMahon tendered his resignation as President of the Republic, and M. Grdvy was elected in his stead. Gambetta then took M. Grevy's place as Speaker of the Chamber of Deputies. This was significant enough : after Grevy, Gambetta, and it was easy to foresee that Gambetta would be in his turn President of the French Republic. In 1881, the Chamber of Deputies ejected Gambetta Speaker pro tern. It indicated clearly that they intended ho should be a Minister, and soon after M. Grdvy Bent for Gambetta to form a new Ministry. During his term of office, he made useful changes in the public services, and separated the Ministry of Marine from the colonies, trying to give the colonies a civil govern ment instead of the military one they pos sessed. But envy and jealousy were at work, and Gambetta was obliged to resign. M. de Freycinet was then sent for, and formed a Ministry, which was soon replaced by a Uambettist Ministry, of which M. Duclerc was the Premier. Therefore every one expected to see Gambetta again assume the Premiership. He was Hion in the prime of life, his talent had never been so powerful, and France looked to hin; as the future President of the Republic. But an unex pected catastrophe, one of those blows from Destiny which break in on the best contrived combinations, came and struck Republican Franco with stupor. Tho news circulated that Gambetta had wounded him self with a revolver he was loading. At first his wound was considered asnotbeingdanger ous, but little by little it became worse, and when France awakened herself on the morn ing of the first of January, 1883, shelearnt that the great orator, the patriot, the statesman had just died at the age of forty-four. The whole nation went into mourning to weep over one of her most de voted servants, over him whom she liked to look to as the man of tho future. Was it not he who, during the days of misfortune, had remained to his post till the last moment? Republic, that goddess which cost so much blood to the peoplo, was it not he, who, by his wise and enlightened policy, by the influence he possessed—was it not he who had made it strong and able to resist the attacks of the monarchical parties? France wept over the great man, and I my self, so far away from the mother country, was deeply moved when I heard of tho loss the Fronch Republic had sus tained ; ana when I saw the reports of the funeral of Gambetta, I was proud to belong to a country which knew bo well how to de honour to its dead. The whole nation was there; the peoplo, the soul of France, was there to pay the last tribute of homage to him who had devoted his life to the triumph of liberty. The body of Gambetta was placed in the Hall of Honour of the Chamber of Deputies buildings.

Thousands of crowns sent from all the provinces were placed on these remains of a national glory which had just passed away The front of the whole building was covered with black crape, as well as the statue of Strasbourg, and all business was stopped in Paris during the funeral. Then the pro cession left the Chamber of Deputies to go to the cemetery of Pfcro Lochaise. Three large chariots loaded with crowns advanced slowly before the hearse. The Senate, the members of the Chamber of Deputies, the magistracy, the bar, the army, the ambas sadors of foreign countries followed. More than 150,000 citizens, representatives of all the communes of France, accompanied the body to the Pere Lochaise. On tho way a crowd of 500,000 spectators was there, dense, meditative; it seemed as if it were witnessing its own funeral. It was because this crowd knew what it had just lost, and silent and dull it looked at the flying away of this light, which had enlightened it for twelve years. At the cemetery, Brisson, now Premier, pronounced a dis course, in which he reviewed tho brilliant career of Gambetta. He exhorted tho Re publicans to unite themselves to carry out the dearest hopes of the deceased : Franco free and happy, delivered from prejudices, and going with confidence towards the future.

Franco, in IS7I, wounded, broken, dis membered, was about to sink under the weight of her misfortunes ; the people wore uneducated, no liberty existed, the newspapers could not fpeak without being prosecuted, and discord was in tho Republican camp. All at once a man reveals himsolf; ho is a peacemaker ; he takes upon himself to educate the peoplo ; he disciplines the Republican party, he makes it a power ; with his dis courses, full of wiedom and moderation, ho gains to the Republican cau^o the peasant who had been taught to hate Republic anism. Then these peasant-*, seoing they had been cheated, sond to the House, under the influenco of tho samo man, Republicans as their representatives. Now, through the powerful impulse of Democracy, wo see our a>my re-organised, free and com pulsory education, the liborty of the press ; and little by littlo tho liberties come and imposo themselves, without anyone being frightened or even astonished. We pay our war indemnity to Germany, and Franco

breathes freely. Republicanism is estab lished, and if sometimes a dark cloud makes a spot in its beautiful blue sky, it is only to disappear at once.

That is the work of a man forty-four years old. And if death had not come to striko with its scythe the regenerator of France, Alsace and Lorraine would have returned to the mother country, for it was the dearest hope of the great patriot, and the Germans havo not disguised their con tentment on hearing of tho death of their most sanguino antagonist.

THE AUCKLAND EVENING STAR, SATURDAY, MAY % 1885.

3



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