A Heart's Bitterness

By BERTHA M. CLAY, Author of "For Another's Sin," "A Fair Mystery," ~c.

CHAPTER LV. DAME MAOERT'S I.ODORR. Monday morning, and Dame Magery was in her garden gathering a bouquet of golden and maroon nasturtiums.snd bluo larkspur, for Lady Leigh's breakfast table, when the latch of hor little gate clicked, and turning, sho saw the Lord of Leigh. The old woman hurried to him, and in her warm fealty to his race, seized and kissed his hand, cry ing: " My lord, my dear lord, welcome !" "I think you havo a little stray countess hore, Magory ?" " She's within," said Magory, in a low voice. Violet, hoping almost against hops, buoyed up by Edna's confident promise-, had insisted upon rising early, and sho was already sitting by the window, and arrayed in a pink en„iu_oro morning robe.

As her husband's step crossed tho humble threshold, she rose) and beseechingly hold out hor slender whito hands. Sweet enough sho was, bor pleading brown eyes full of tears, tho Hushes Hying swiftly ovor hor art less, child-like face, tno dark rings of her shining hair milled about her brow. She held her breath ; she dared not stir ; she could not speak.

The man was moved in spito of himself by this young, gentle, mucu-wronged creature, who, by tho moat venial fault, was yet put in tho position of a criminal. He held out both hands and took her. in a kind clasp. "lam glad to find you safe and sound, child. Now you will como homo with me ?" " oh, Norman ! May I?"

" Yes, certainly ! What are you shaking so for, child? Sit down again. Homo as soon as you liko, of course."

And stooping as ho placed hor in hor chair, ho kissed her forehead. "But, Norman, you will fool so embar rassed and ashamed of mo that I ran away, and how to explain." " Nonsense i Of courso, it was the silliest performanco in tho world, bat no one knows of it. It is a dead secret, except to us two, Keith, Edna, aud the two servants. Every ono thinks you're taking a rest in Sussex. We'll go home and appear at a bad or two. And mind, you say you havo had a lovely re3t, and fool quite fresh. "I will, indeed, Norman. I feol bettor, and rested, truly. Oh, how good you are ! I will try not to trouble you again." "I hope you will, lam cure. Such a thing is a hidoous bore ; but, however, we'll say no moro about it. Eh, Kate, that you ? Turned cook, aud butler, and all? I'm glad to see breakfast, and to rind your lady looking so well. We'll start home this evening if Lady Leigh fools ablo to travel. You're not to hurt yonrEelf, Violet, mind that. Your health is very important now, you know." Leigh thought ho was behaving vory well.

Violet, in her deep humility and peni tonce,had no fault to find with him. Per haps Keith nnd Edna would have mado largo discount on his speeches, but happily no ono heard but Kate, and sho was too wise to speak or even look any condem nation. "Edna told you?" faltered Violet.

" Ye?, she did. Jove ! It is the best news I've heard for a year. " We'll go back to London to-day, appear in public for a fow times, or two or thrse weeks, and then we had better go down to the Towers. That will bo the best, place foi you, Violet. You can tako come quiot friends along with you ; yon won't object to Miss Ambro.o this jenr, I suppoto?" "Indeed no, Norman. I am so ashamed I ever was so silly. She is the dearest, love liest, beet. lam never so happy as when I am with her.

"That's what I think," groaned tho un happy man to him.elf; and, giving Violet his hand, he led her to the breakfas:-table. They were alone. Tame Magery had gone to the littlo paddock whsre her pot cow was grazing. Kate was buttering toast in tho kitchen. Lord Leigh wa° wholly intent on serving an ome'etto placed before him, when a swift step crossed the room, and someone noisily dropped into a chair O-poeite tbe earl' Leigh looked up, and saw b.foi _ him, only the table between, the faco which last he had seen framed against the red sunset in the open casement of the Earl's Folly—the face ovor which he thought the waters of the Black Pool had closed for ever—the face that had haunted him as his victim, but now leered at him as his enemy. In his intense amazement he leaped to his feet, bub Violet flung herself into his arms, crying: ... •'Norman! Save mo from that terrible man!" , T At tho samo instant Damo Magory rushed in. • . . " See my head I" began tho man. jerking off his cap; but Dame Magery checked him by grasping his arm, crying : "Out on you ! Can I never keep you whero you belong ?" and ied bim away un resisting. " There, there, child—no one will hurt you " said Leigh, releasing himself from Violet's clasp. -'Some half-wit of the neighbourhood. You will not be harmed.' "But I saw him before. I was lying alone: be came in and said he would kill me i Magery tried to make me b.heve 1 had been dreaming. She said no ono was here." . , , T "Well, since it is some neighbour man, l don't see but she said truo enough. There, be calm or you will hurt yourself, Drink yourtoa at once. You see, Violet, what comes of recklessly leaving your home. A woman is safe under her husband's roof, and there she should stay unless he takes hor elsewhere." ~ ... . . "I know it, Norman," said Violet, hnmble and penitent. But when breakfast was ended Lord Leigh said he would havo a cigar in the garden, and went out to Magery, who was weeding her lettuce. " Magery, who ia that crazy creature ? •'lndeed, ray lord, I don't know." " Where did he come from ? How camo " Well, my lord, it's no harm to tell you, thou eh I did insist to my lady he was a dream. Adam brought him here. "Adam, my valet! And what did he say about him ?" .','.« " My lord, tho man was sick and raving, from a great cut all along the side of his head. Adam said I was such a good nurse he brougnt him to me. He was a fneed of his who had got into trouble, and he did not want to havo hiir. investigated, going to an asylum. So Adam pays me for keeping him, and I have him safe in that strong, comfortable room off the kitchen. Only lately he has £Ot out twice, and I cannot sco how he does it." " Had he no luggage, no papers . "No, my lord, only a fow new things I think Adam had bought in London for him. "Aud when did he come here ■ " The last day of November, my lord. "I think if he does not improve, Adam muse take him to Scotland to a good asylum. I fear for your safety, Magery. "Thank you, my lord." ..„,._ On the third day after this, Mrs Ainelie said to her governess at luncheon : " Mi°s Hope, my niece, the countess, has come home. I called on her this morning. She has had a trip to the Towers, and is looking; as fresh as a rose, and Leigh is so pleased and proud yon cannot think. There is to be an heir there before the year is c ut—a future earl, Heaven eend and, by the way. tbo countess wants to see you tomorrow at ten Don't forget. After this thunderbolt of nowß, Helen Hope neither ate nor slept, and was in a fury of rage and de?pair. She found Violet alone next morning, lying on tbe couch in the boudoir. A new dignity, a serenity, a self-poise, a certain strenpth ot womanliness had come to the littlo counter

through her late experiences. "Miss Hope," Bhe said quietly, _ you have acted to me a wicked, very wicked part, but my trouble is much of my own making in seeing you when I was warned against you, and in listening to your crafty tales. You urged me to do a thing which you knew was wicked, and which yon hoped would be fatal to mo. You promised to meet me when you never meant to clo so, and you sent me to seek a place which did not exist. God has taken ciro of me. God guarded all my foolish way. and sent me friend and safety. Yon need never see mo again, for I am done with you ; and aa 1 know you are not a fit guide for my cousins, you must leave my aunt. If you will give warning, and leave at once, I W'"^P soothe her vexation, and will not "W »»»* against you. If you will »$W£$ U te" fair enough to secure your dismissal.

" Ana then I will ruin you,my fine coun tess." "At aU risk, my cousin shall bo saved. Anna was here yesterday, and I find you havo advi.ed her to olopa with Core."

"And you consider it a decent act to turn mo helpless into the street !" screamod Helen, wildly.

"No. Here are one hundred pounds. Pray go and find a place in France, or whero I will not know whero you aro. .on't hesitate. Tako tho money. You aro welcome. Try and be good."

"Try and bo good!'- cried Helen i _ wrath. "Listen—l will bring you to ruin and shame ! I will beggar that child which you aro SO proudly expecting I I will .low tho world that Norman Leigh i 3 a villain and an impostor, far down on the level of Helen Hope, tho foundling. I will thow that you aro no true wife, only a befooled countess, of a sham Lord of Leigh, and "

Tho door opened, and Edna entered, noble and queenly " Silence, Helen Hope I These aro idle throats, wicked falseh-uds. Leavo Lady Leigh's presence instantly." " You think I cannot do it, ' Recall wbat his mother was, and think if it might not bo shown that he is no lawful Lord of Leigh. Recall what he has been, and say if I am not likely, whon I dedicate my lifo to vengeance, to linda wife of his, married be foro she stood at tho altar in St. George's."

"Edna! Edna! what is sho saying?" screamed Violet.

"Nothing that, .ho can prove—nothing trui', mv darling." " 1 will prove it. <" cried Helen Hope, and rushed away.

CHAPTER LVI,

" HEAR my pkayer, normax !

Night had fallen over London, when Edna Ambrose, that fair maiden knight errant, arrived at Lady Burton's residence. Lord Keith,who was pacing frantically up and down the library, heard tho knock of tho cabmai), and rushed into tho hall. He soized Edna's hand und lod her to tho library, too anxious to utter a word, but his burning oyes read in her tranquil, choerful face good nows. "It. ia aU right, Kenneth," said Edna, clamping h"'s hand, and her faco shining with thorellox of that joy that is in heaven over peniletit sir.nors. "Violet is safe,and only waits hor husband's going for her to return to her homo, Hor running off was all the result of tho deceitful counsel of an enemy. She wont into a paroxysm of griof, thinking you and I and your mother had de ceived her. Now all is woll, and I hope for tho very best, for hor and hor husband." " But ho—what will he do, or say ? I foar ho will bo inclined to play the brute with my poor child." "No, he will not. Every stop of her way can bo traced and proved. Kind women have watched over her from the first, and she is now with Adam Moreland's widowed sister, a retainer of tho houso of L.igh. Whore is Lord Leigh ? 1 must see him at once."

"Ho came back from the .earching in Sussex this evening about five. Ha seoms worried and angry. I begged him to stay hero, saying I hoped for news by midnight, but he wont off angry and grumbling. 1 will try and find him, but doubt if I can."

In fact, Lord Leigh was not found un til Sunday about church timo, when a niessongor"from Edna brought him to Lady Burton's. Edna was waiting for him alono in a little nioruing-room.

Though Norman Leigh was alarmed, angered, antl distressed by tho flight of his unloved wife, and tho social consequences it might ensue, he was yet able to bo mastered by tho one deep passion of his life, at the sight of the beautiful Edna Violet and her dangers were forgotten. Edna looked kindly at him ; Edna sum moned him ; Edna's voice foil gently on his oars ; Edna's soft, white hand lny in hi? clasp. In the intoxication of this joy all cUe war. forgotten. He could hardly re frain himself from falling at hor feel, and protesting his undying, his hourly growing adoration-

" Norman," said Edna, in the oagor joy of her heart, " I bring you news of your wifo —of our V .olot !' L.igh's face fell. " I'm glad to hear of her. I hope to savo a public search. Heaven knows what accu sations Keith was louking ut mo I Where is tho woman ?"

Edna coldly withdrew her hand, aud Steppe'l UoL- ___. him " Norman Leigh ! I will not answer you when you tako that touo of her whom you promised to love and cherish. What was your vow at the altar?"' Lord Leigh stood morosely dumb. Edna was Bilent and indignant. Nearly five minutes sped. . " What shall I say ?' demanded Leigh, angrily. " Say - where is my wifo ? "Where is my wifo? if you will havo it."

"She is with Adam Moroland's sister, in Derbyshire." " Let her come home then, until I inquire into her conduct. Who knows what it h_a been?" , ... "1 know," said Edna, storoly. "I can trace every hour of her disappearance. Her conduct has been that of a poor, lonely, heart-sick, grievod, disappointed, neg lected, little wifo, whose husband haa ignored his promit. to love and cherish her. You must do better, Norman." A mud thought seized Leigh, tnat he could make Violet's flight an excuse for a divorce, and once free, he could cast himself at the feet nf Edna. ' " lam not to be deceived, he said. ln« honour of tha Leigbs is at stake; I will defend it." .. ,„ " And I will defend your wife ! cried Edna, with wrath. "If you continue your neglect and unkindness to her, the world shall know it. Norman Leigh, I take your wife for my sister, hot causo is mino ; she shall have a friend neither weak nor afraid." " Oh, Edna ! Edna !" cried Leigh, franti cally ; " in calm you are a creature seraphic, in wrath you are magnificont!" " Hush !" " wo aro not epoaking of me, but of Violet. Norman, como here and eit by me in this window, while I talk to you. You aro showing yourself a man far other than I hoped. You are losing all my re spect and'kindness. Will you not come back to your better self? Will you not show a tender and noble manhood ? Vv Hi you not be worthy of your race?" I:Whar. do you wish me to do? said Lei<_, doggedly, but seizing tha oppor tunity to sit by her side, and hear her words, deeming them music.even while thoy condemned him. "I wish you first to hear your wifes story," said Edna. She hid no idea of telling what little she knew or guessed of the oarlv love of Keith and Violet; that was sacred to themselves, but sne tried to explain to Leigh Violet's feelings, her dis po .tion— worm, tender, jealous, self-dis trustful, eusoicious, sensitive, easily tor I siving, whilo easily offended, inexperienced, sweetT innocent, childlike-a creature to cherish, encoinage, protect. She told how Helen Hope had pursued her and beguiled her. "Then it ia her own fault, said LeigD, hotly " I told her in Paris that /he must avoid that woman. If she had obeyed me she would have been safe." " Yes • but on your part, you should havo told her more You destroyed the rower of your prohibition when you pre tended that He'en Hope was a stranger. You are yourself largely to blame for her further influence." " But what am I to dn with a wife who deceives me ?" cried Leigh, furiously. "She never meant to deceive you. And you may be sure that in future she will strive her best to please you. She has tried, but have you encouraged her by any response, Norman ?"' , _ , "No, I have not. I am compelled to toll the truth when you say ' Norman in that wav, Edna." , , , . "Well, then, be now all that you ought to be to her." 1 .„ if Leigh saw that Edna was resolute. If Violet came back, he might further entangle her in some wild action or admission. He looked down, and said, sulkily : "Then let ber come back to her home, if she wishes, and I will inquire into the m"Th_.i.not enough," said Edna, with engaging sweetness, laying her fair hand on his arm. " You will go at once to bring her back ; go to be kind, consoling, good and merely accept what she explains, and give hor no further trouble about what is already an unutterable pain." "I'll never do it in tbe world !" cried Leigh, hotly. " I vow " But Edna laid her slender fingers npon '" Vovv nothing. Hush '.-hoar mo, Nor man. Good and happy days ara in store for yon and Violet. She is to have a little child, Norman ; think bow happy you will both bo then ; think how you have wished for an heir of Leigh. And now, m all your treatment of your wife, wuljotl do one thing, speak one word, that will injure tho child you hope for, or one day cau ß e it shame or sorrow?" and Edna turned away her face mantled with lovely blushes.

Leigh sprang to his feet. He had longed much for a son. Was it possible that Leigh should havo an heir? He demanded :

" Edna, what do you say ? Is this true ? And still she dared go away ?" " She did not know—not until she reached Magciy "ogers, Adam's sistor—and now Vio:et is so grieved and penitent for her hastiness. Say, Norman." She rose, looked him earnestly in the face, and took his hand —"Say you will go thero and bring her homo, say yen will bo kind and utter no ru prea-'hos, for her sake, for my sake, for your child's cako; hear my prayer, Norman,"

Lord Leigh, in his stubborness, hesitated for a _iom_iit. But ihe lovely eyes, the illumined face, the ardent words of this charming girl were wont to raise those who saw her to their best possibilities, and so it was with Nerman Leigh. He felt a new manhood rie-e within him ; charity, grace nearly a stranger to hia soul, entered into his 6elfiah heart, an interest in Violet, such as he bad never beforo felt, took possession of him, and pride nnd some moiiugs cf parental feeling stirred toward his future heir,

" It is enou.h, Edna," ho said. . " I will go. You bave conquered. I promise you to bo all that you demand. You shall bo satisiied .with me."

" Oh, Norman 1" cried Edna, happy toar3 rising to her jmatchless blue eyes. I knew you would be a good man." " It is you, angel of my life, who mould mo into goodness," he said, looking other intently. And theu, a black and terrible thought roso in his soul, that he might win Edna by kindness to Violet; that ho might obliter ate tho past, secure hor oßteem and regard, and—Violet was but a frail young creature aftor all—if it should bo that a life was paid for a lifo ; and that whon an heir of Leigh camo to tho home of his father's, A'iolot should fade from her sad honours as coun tes?, ho might bo freo to win Edna. Per haps fate was making a way for him to achieve his groat dosiro.

(To be Continued-)

TWO KEYS: OR Margaret Houghton's Heroism

By MRS GEOKGIE SHELDON, _._thor ot "Brownie's -_a_pU-" "Tho For saken B:ido." " Audrey- lluconinonse,''&_.

CHAPTER XXXIX.

ARTHUR LISTENS TO AN ASTON'ISIUNII STORY. With bated breath and a strange sensation about his heart, Arthur stood still and watched, wondering at all this caution and hesitancy. Anothor instant and it was explained. Uttering a cry of astonishment and dis may, ho sank down upjn his louugo, white, trembling, and horrified.

In tho doorway, regarding him with equal amazement and confusion, stood Margaret Houghton, as if transfixed. For a moment sho could neither movo nor speak ; then al! at once the truth flashed upon her. Louis had turned the tables upon his foo ! He was free, and the wretch who had caused him to much suffering and troutle had boen cunningly secured ; the real thief had been captured at last. " Ah." she said, us soon as sho could find hor voico, " so tho fox has fallen into his own trap !' " What do you moan ? flow came you hern?" Arthur demanded, looking bo wiklercd and wretched enough to havo satisfied his bitterest enemy.

" You aro surprised to . .0 me, are you ?" Margaret asked, coming forward into the room and regarding him curiously.

She had recovered hor self - possession eomeivhat, and now seemed to tako in the situation, it must bo confessod, with evi dent satisfaction. •' Of courso, I am surprised. How do yon happen to ho here ?" ■«_„. ,-„ T-__r- sno — i-_J, :•»-- vantly. " What do I care whero he is ? And how on earth did you know ho was here ?" Arthur demanded. " I have known or suspected it for somo time," Murgio answered, composedly. " You, Margie?" " Yes, /, Margie. But I shall bo obliged to you if you will hereafter uddross me as Miss Houghton, if you must spauk to mo at all" , . -

" How long have you known that Louis Dunbar was in this building?" he de manded. " I havo suspected it since ono day when, sitting in my mother's carriago, I saw an old gentleman como out of the alley below and walk up tho Hue de Blanc."

" What old gentleman?' " A man with whit-3 hair and beard, and dressed in a long overcoat and tall black hat," and she pointed with a withering smile at those very articles of apparel which lay in a heap on tho floor besido him, where ho had thrown thorn. Arthur groaned and began to soe light. Too well he remembered the day she re f. rred to, whon ho bad been started in going from that place, to lind Mrs Hough ton's carriage in that locality. Ho had not seen Margaret, however, for sho had concealed herself behind a cur tain, and ho had hoped tho carriage was crafty. "What made you think it was I? he questioned "You had recontly turned your ankle, you limped with your left foot; r-o did this old gont'eraan. I caught the gleam of his eyes as ho passed, they had a familiar look, while tho hand in which he carried hiß ke>s was not tho hand ol" an old man !"

" Curse the luck ! Why didn't you accuse me then fotrhwitb ?'

" Because I knew how cunning you were ; I could not, of courso, be quite sure that it was you, although several things had already conspired to make me mistrust that you had something to do with Louis's dis appearance." " Such as what?"

"The loss of tho diamond from your sleeve-button, for one thing."

" How could tbat be ?" " Well, you lost it tho vory night that Louis disappeared," "Yes; but that counts for nothing i might have lost a hundred other things at the samo time." "True; but it counted for something when I found it." _ "Did you find it?" ho cried, with a start. "Where?" Ci'Very slowly and oistmetly she spoke now, and every word ssemed to fall like a hammer on his brain. 'I found it in the folds of the draperies, in the corner behind the tete a-tete, wbere Louis and I sat on that night while we dis cussing our plan f) the future, and where he also told me of the anxiety regaidmg tho large amount of money iv his office " i "Ha!" _ . „

" You begin to comprehend, I perceive," Margaret observed with quiet irony." Arthur groaned: too well he compre hended. . ~ , ~ .. " When I found that diamond, Mar garet resumed, " I knew, as well as if you had told me, that you had been concealed behind those draperies, that you must have heard every word of our conversation. I knew that you hated Louis for long years, and that once you had done him a great wrong, why then you would not hesitate to do him another in jury. I asked mysol•", and I immediately began to suspect you of knowing something shout, tbo mystery which so distressed us. I began to watch yon, to weigh all your words and actionß, and my suspicions wore almost confirmed when I recognised you through this disguise. I had teen you come out of this building, and 1 natural y wondered what possible interest you could have in this locality, and in these supposed empty buildings. . "Do you remember, "she continued, grow ing excited as she thus rehearsed the story to him, "that stormy evoning when we played euchre at home, how I would not play with you? I played against you and I told you that I waa playing against you With all on,, might. I meant far more than I appeared to at that time, for I was play ing a desperate game against you- Then, all at once, I began to cultivate your society. Oh, how it went against me. How I bated myself for my duplicity : but, I had a secret to worm out of you.' " Aha, that was your game, then .' in terrupted Arthur, growing white to his lips, as he realised how he had been fooled. "Yes- do you supnose I would have tolerated your company for one moment after what you had said regarding my be, • trothed husband, if I had not been impelled by a powerful motive ?"

"But how, under heaven, did you contrive to get into this building ?" ques tioned Arthur, growing interested in this thrilling account in .p'tto of his own desperate situation.

" Simply by the use of two keys," and she held them up beforo his astonished eyes ; key 3 precisely liko those he had possessed until coi-pollod to givo them up to Louis. "Where did you get them?" he asked, breathlessly. " I had thorn made." "How?" "I have already remarked that I began to cultivate your society, and that I had a powerful motive in so doing." "Yes," he interrupted, bitterly, "you tempted mo, making mo believe you cared for me, only to betray mo, when I loved you to idolatry."

She drew herself up haughtily. " I new gavo you tho slightest; encourage ment to speak of lovo to mo. I always repelled you whenever you at.temp'ei it," sho said, co'dly. "I confess that, for is time, I assumed a friendliness which I did not feel, and it was not an easy thing to do, either, simply to accomplish a purpose."

"What purpose?/ "That of gutting possession of your keys to this building." Ho started to his feot looking almost wild. "But you never succeeded ; thoy have never been out of my poi»_sionjforeven one hour." ho cried, excitedly.

'• No ; but I look an impression of them !" He staggered back, striking his forehoad with his hand as ho seemed to vocall some thing.

" Then all that waa pretence — your fascination ior coins and curious kejs?" ho said.

" No, not wholly ; I have a passion for old coins. It was a hoax about tho keys, though, 1 thought perhaps I could cntica you to hand over what you had to tno, and in that way I could got an impression of tho two that 1 wanted."

" But you did not catch mo that way, he rotortod.

" No," sho returned, regarding him with a curious expression. "For heaven's sake, don't sit there and look at mo in that way. You havo triumphed, it seoms, and I should liko to know just hoiv you did it." "Surely, you have not forgotten nil that occurred tho day of the fete when I waa your guost." "No I" the young man excitodly cried, light at last beginning to break in upon his mind.

" VVoll, I went there for a purpose that day, nnd I accomplished it." "I sco," said Arthur, with a crest-fallen air, " your weariness was all a pretence ; you had seen thoso keys when I showed you the inside of my desk ; you pretended that you needed rest and quiot, and, whilo we all thought you sleeping, you improved your timo by rummaging and taking an impression of thoso keys. An honourable return, surely, for one's hospitality," he concluded, satirically. She faced him with flashing eyes. "Do i/o if presume to talk about an honour able return for hospitality," sho died, in dignantly, "you who had tho meanness to conceal yourself behind the draperies in a lady's parlour—aftor having been courteously received as her guest for many man ths—and listen to a conversation that wa=. purely con fidential, almost sacred ; and then, taking advantago of what you had thus learned, go forth and commit a crime to ruin tho man whom sho loved moro thon hor own lifo. Really, Mr Aspinwall, you need coaching in tho science of diecrimination," sho con cluded, with biting saicasm. " Yi. , I did ' rummage,'as you express it," sho went on after a moment of thought, " and I felt justified in so doing. I believed that the fate of one, dearer to mo than all the world beside, depended upon that hour spent in your room. I knew I was upon tho right trail, for, before lunch, whilo you woro out, 1 hud boon in your closet, "and seen protruding from one of your trunks, a few gray hairs, and knew, as well ns I elid later when I saw tho whole, that your disguise wa? there. But about tho keys; I was sure that by using a Utile strategy I could tako their impronsioo -1 eonld have others made, and then I could come und i-ea for myself what in to ested you in this building. Doubtless you wonder why I did not confide in my lather and save myself all this troublo and perhaps danger. It wan because I wished to do you no wrong in tho estimation of others. If my suspicions, regarding incorrect no ono would be the wiser, you would not bo injured in any way, nor bo wounded by what 1 have c.oao. If, on tho other hand, they proved to bo true, t .on, I reasoned, it would be a very eaiy master to bring you to justice." "(lo on—pray go on ; I am deeply inter ested and would liko to hear tho whole oi this interesting story," Arthursnid, bitterly, as ho paused fer a moment. "I do not object ra telling it," Margaret returned, wiihta slight smile ; "it may serve to show you urns a-woman's cunning and intuition can sometimes outwit a villain s most de.-po ate schemes."

"You are getting complimentry m yon proceed, Mis.. Houghton l" ho interrupted angrily. "lum simply sating facts. But to re turn to my subject: Lefc alone in your rjom, I went directly ro your desk, whero 1 found the kois I had been wanting to got possession of for so long, together with wax and tapers, and it was the woikofbutu fow moments to get impressions cf them both. I confess that 1 folt very unc.mfort able to bo bo thus playing tbo part of a spy and prying into your al_.li. and nothing but Btsriiest necessity could have tempted mo to violate my stnso Ot honour in that way." , , . .. "You- op'jlogy comes rather lato in tlie day to bo of e-)Ueh account," saoered

Artiiur. "The next day," i-he resumed, without heeding his interruption, "I took ray impressions to a loc.su.ito. had keys made, and a few evenings lator I came hither be tween eight and nine o'clock to lest th'iii and the truth of my suspicions regarding "You possess courage as well aa strategy, Miss Houghton," Arthur again interrupted. " I would have been willing to encounter oven more than I did it I had supposed I was going to savo Louis Dunbar from your malignity. Ido not think I really expected to find him here ; I hopod to find somo eiuo that would lead to his discovery. But I did expect to find somo traco of tho missing money, and believed that a revelation of every thing would follow if I did. ■ " But when I entered this room, and found him alive and well, even though a prisoner behind those dreadful bars, oh I — and Margaret heaved a deep sigh utthe remembrance of the shock she had sustained j "no one can ever know, and I nover can I tell, what my sensations wero.

" Of course I could not release him then, for I had no key to that ponderous pad lock ; but, aftor consulting with him, we arranged for that So yesterday morning, I went out to a hardware store "

" Ha a-a 1" " Yes," Margaret said, a littie smile of triumph flitting over her face; "I had just purchased a saw and tile suitable for working upon iron, and conoaled them about my person, when you met me at tho door." "Oh, what a dolt I have beon !' cried hor listener, wildly. " I understand it all now—your capriciousnor-s, playing fast and loose with mo—your queer remarks, which seemed to imply so much, and yet nothing at all-the sudden change in your dress, and your strange gayety and vivacity yesterday. What a dupe you havo mado of mo from beginning to end !" " I suppose the knowledge cannot be vory gratifying to your feeling-," Margaret asserted j " but I had to do it. nevertheless. Yes, I planned the ride yeetoiday afternoon, without the .ijglr.st intention of accom panying you—' "Th'jn your headache was all sham 1 supposed Miss Margaret Houghton to ba abovo the meanness of lying,' snapped Arthur, angrily. "And so I am," Margaret rotunifd, with dignity. "I have told no falsehoods —not ono ; I havo simply employed strategy that was perfectly justifiable. My head ache was no sham, it was terribly real, pro ceeding from nervousness, lest any of my plans should fail. But as soon as I had sent you, and mamma, aud Floy Arnold^ off on your excursion to Buttc-s Chamont —" " And Floy Arnold was only a decoy then ?" groaned Arthur. " Of course. I know that neither you nor mamma would go and leave me at homo bo lioving me to bo ill, unless you stood com mitted to accompany somo one else, and Floy proved to bo a very convenient decoy. I could not cany out my pleas unless you were out of the way, ond . omethmg soetm-.d to make mo feel that I must work quickly. As soon as you were gone I came directly here to bring tho file and saw, and 1 was also inspired to bring Louis papas re- V°" Ah? that was Mr Houghton's revolver "Yes ; it was a good thing, my bringing it, for it seems that Louis has made good use of it," Margareb replied, significantly.

Arthur swore roundly at this reference to his uncomfortable situation.

"You are forgetting your manners, Mr Aspinwall," Margaret said, reprovingly. " I do not think it is exactly kind to exult ovor a fallen foe, but. I must confess that it af fords i_o infinite satisfaction to find you hero, when 1 believed you had loft the city. 1 should not havo como hero to-day, for Louis told mo not to venture again for a fow days, , but for what you said last night about going away. I rolfc that it would bo sale under those circumstances, and 1 wanted to as""-lain how my hero was getting along, ami perhaps aid him a little in his work. Ah ! I think he munt beciinir.g now I" sho concluded, as a step was hoard upon the stairs. The next moment Louis entoied tho room.

(To be Continued),

Yours, Very Sincerely.

When charming little oblong billets aro brought to us, with jimfc a taint of perfume clinging to thorn, and protty hexagonal waxen seals, wo aro happy enough to find, inside, the pleasant fact recorded that tho fair writers are sincerely ours. When letter, of eterner form aro opened by us the envelopes of which aro stained by sturdy and vigorous caligraphy, and ai _ of all linos and smoothness and opacity (from our old schoolfellow's cream " adhesive " to iho uu glossed and commercial " bluo"), wo aro still greeted with ths same assurance, and aro requested to boliovo our correspondents ours, and always vory sincere. Wo lind a littlo variety to this, of courso. Wo como across tho folks who prefer using adjectives to adverbs, and declaring themselves respectful, or faithful, or obedient, or true; and wo como across tho folks' of the sex commonly moro impulslvo and prnnoneec, who pledge them solvcs (to our entire satisfaction) to bo ours in affection or oven in lovo ; but with this small diversity, the gamut—tho sol-fa—of sir 'naturo is done, and though it may be enough, it certainly is no feast. A certain .Tames Howel, who " nourished " in tho reigns of Charles tho First a"d Second, and who moimod out tho intermediate Common wealth in prison, would havo thought it in tolerably irtoagro and ono idoaed. Indeed, ho would have turned his Welsh noso up as high as his own I'linliinmon, if he had been tied to any such a liliputinn tothor. In a quantity 'of his published lctterp, " Domestic and Forren, written upon Emergent Occasion," it is quito reproach ful to find in what a number of "subscrip tions " ho riots. lie had them —so to speak — pale-pink, rose, rod, crimson, flame, lire. Ho signed himself " Yours inviolably :" " Yours, ovon to love and serve you ;" " Yours whole ;" " Yours intirely ;" " Yours in-no Vulgar Way of Friendship ;"

"Yours to dispose of;" "Yours verily and invariably ;'' " Yours most humble auel enchain'd ;" " Yours to the Alter ;" " Yours really ;" "id—sometimes, in a fevor of devotion —throe times ovor, liko a colonial advertisement, " Yours ! _Tours ! Yours I" If his mood changed, ho becamo " Yours J. ET.," simply and confidingly ; " Your entire friend ;" "Your respectfulson and servitor " (that wan to Ben Jonson); "Your son and Contiguous Neighbour" (to raro Bon, also); " Your most assured and ready Friend to do you Sorvico ;" "Yourown true Servant;" " Your loving, woll wishing Cousin ;" " Your true Servitor and Compatriot j" " Yours whilo 3 H. ;" "Yours most ready to bo commanded," Yours to so.wo and revcrenco you ;" " Yours easily to be recovered :" (this was when ho and one of his red-hot friends woro having a temporary tiff); " Your truly de voted Servant ;" " Your 30 yours' Servant;" "Yours at your Lordship's Command ; ' " Tho \7ory Same;" " Intirely yours ;'• and "At your Dispose." Surely tongues __u?t bo right and hoarts icy if wo measure our frieneUhip now by our professions, and if James Ilenvel applied the samo moasur: mont lo his ! And theso proofs of his tios and his fertility aro nothing like all. Ho would declare himsoif to bo a "sorious Servitor," or a "thankful Servitor." or a "thrice humhlo Servitor," or a "Servitor who was true," or "respectful," or "de voted," or "real," or "thrico a-tired." Then tho samo adjectives would pro „• do thi) equivalent noun Sorvant, and would form, also, tho samo con venient (.ppogiatnro to n Friend. Ho would fay, to-) (which ho might havo pro claimed as a new duet), that ho was " hnmblo and hearty," or "humble and rit:'?i!\-.bl-"-Joii',' ,r-inif tV'!A'umi__ ni.('.^ fai'ATiil",'' ar.d "oritiro and true;" and tho English language being clearly too cabin'd and o mlin'il for his ardent utterances, he had re course to French aud Spanish and Italian, and also, at a push to Latin and Greek. He did not rely, either (as suroly he might have dono), on the unsupported strength of superb Finis. There wa" a particulaily .-tartling way in which his letters began "Hail! Half of my Soul!" he exclaimed onco to a gentleman, whom ho after wards called, in somo sudden verbal poverty. "My dear nick." And "noble Tom I" was another way he hud i,f fixing the erratic mind; and "pre cious Tom !'' and, concisely, " Knbin," arid "Sir Edward," and "Nephew," "Cojon," "Contain," "Brother," "Master Hall." Then ho would ho grand again, and say. " Mv Good Lord and Brother ; " and "My Worthy Esteemed Nephew;" and "Excellent Lady;" and, to Jonson, sturdily and comprehensively, "Father Bon.'—" Gentleman- Magazine."

The Blood Brotherhood.

Mr Hknay M. Stanley has described to a loaorier the- peculiar ceremony of pealing tho blood brotherhcol, which ho was obliged to undergo many times with the vati -us chiefs of tha African tribes boforo ho w_s. allowed to enter their territory. He was forced to sit upon tho ground, with ihs chief to whom he was to bo made a blood brother sitting opposite, while tho ceremony was performed by one of the fetish priests. A small incision wouli then bo made in the arms or logs of each by thou _ ot a peculiar instrument, like a lancet, until tho blood flowed. The limbi of tho two woro thon rubbed together so that, tho blood would intermingle. Tho priest would thou sprinkle a peculiar white powder ovor tho wounds, following this with somo wood scrapings from the guvs ot r-ocb, causing them to say, as ho did so, " By tho power of tho gun and tho sharpness of the spear we will defend ono another until death us do part." Mr Stanley's arms and legs aro covered with scars from tho incisions which ho has undergone scores of times.

An Unrehearsed Scene.

A year or to ago all Taris wos aghast, with the scandal that a popular operatic singer had appeared on tho boards of the theatre in a stats of inebriation. The erring sister on that occision has found a brother in mis fortune on tho Austrian stage. News comes from Vienna that a popular actor has been exhibiting himself to theatre goers in nn unwonted part. He came upon the stage of tho Carl Theatro thero " perfectly tipsy," and in that condition of glorious self-satis faorion attendant upon a certain stage of intoxication. Be screamed jokes at the audience, chaffed tho orchestra, and when a lady actnr protested against his "ongoings " he capped the performance by bestowing upon her a loud, hearty, boisterous ki.-s. No such exciting scene has been wit nessed on a public platform since tbo day when Mr Stiggins, in his cups, accused Brother Tadger of being diunk, and knocked him down the stairs head first. It is evident thot in Austria, as iv England, the old-fashioned "three bottle days" are over. Neither actors nor senators now can appear in publio "disguised in liquor," as Sheridan and his jovial boon companions wero wont to do, and the com edian ia no more allowed than the M.P- to bnhaveasdiil that dislinguished wit, when he strolled into tbe Bouse of Commons " half seas over," and ropliod to tho 7oi_ark of his fellow toper that ho couldn't sco tho Speaker, with tho elevated boil mot, "Not slice any Speaker? Why I sheo two ?"

"Vacancy Among the Field Marshals."

Mil Smith and the Duke of Cambridge have once moro to till a vacancy in the list of fi.ld-marshals. At present this highest rank ia strictly preserved for Royal Princes and gonerals who havo passed eighty years of age. Ono of tho octogenarians has lately diod, and it is o cafe prediction that tho general appointed in place of Sir Richard Dacres will bo ovor seventy-five vcars of age, and incapable of sorvice in the field. Th 3 late French Ministry fell be cause of tho de°ire of the Chamber to abolish useless offices. Abolition of the rank of field-marshal is not desirable, but it should not be, as it i-, the rule that no field marshal shall be capable of active ser vice. The rank is highly paid, and is now honourary. No objection io raised to the place of tha Prince of Wales on the list of theee officers, who by warrant are limited to six. But to have reached eighty years of ago should no longer be the qualification for professional soldiers.

More Stories from Hugh Stowell Brown.

Tirr: memorial volume of tho Roy. Hugh Stowell Brown, issued by Messrs Routledgo and Sons, comprises many humorous and satirical jottings which constitute Mr Brown's very original though so called " Commonplace Book." More Scotch Stories A Scotch minister from home was anxious aboui; somo MS. sermons he had left in the manse, lest they should get damp. He in quired about them, and was told that they wore as dry as when he had writlen them- In Perth one night at supper I was very hungry, and my hostess said : " Have you ; had no dinner to-day ?" At a Scotch funeral many friends had I been invited as is tbo custom, but a neigh bour woman who had quarrelled with the family was not included. She watched the funoral pass hor door and said, " Wee!, there'll be a funeral perhaps nt oor roo»o somo day, and we'll see wha:ll be asked then !"

Common roquest in Scotland to say to a minister, "Gio us twa montbfulso' prayer.' A Bargain. Collins told a story of a Mr T , who said to Mr __ (being vory ill at tho time, and both very rich) : "Now, thou leave me all thy money when thou dios, and I'll leavo r.iieo all mine when I die." Mr E de elinod on the ground that he had very poor relations. " Aye, and so have I!" replied T , with an oath ;" I hatos tho verra sect 'o them." E soon after died, and T said, " I thowt he would when I last, seed him." Hence the challenge. An Idea. If tho Gospol wero a forgery, those who got it up would havo mado their Christ something moio than a carpenter. Church Proverbs. (i. German. i>. Dutch. I. Irish. A bantized Jew is a circumcised Chris tian— G. "Bad company," said tho thief, as ho walked to tho gallows between the hangman and a monk. —D. Evory priestling conceals a popoling.— G. Lot the devil got into the church and ho will mount the altar.—l.

" Oh, what wo must suffer for God's Church !" said the abbot when tbe roast fowl burnt his fingers.—G. Tho monk prooehed about stealing npd had tho gooso in his larder. Where thero is a pretty spot, the devil plants a monastery or a lord.—G. Whero thero is mischief, there'? sure to be a priest or a woman in it.—G. Tho Athanasiaa Creed. J. L, a great Churchman, although brought up among Baptists and son of a Baptist minister, said to me, when a certain liturgical reform was proposed, that he hopod it would bo carried, because " we shall not then havo to believe that damned Athanasian Creed any moro." Out of Purgatory. A man wont to tho priest to have his friend's soul prayed out of purgatory, and put a .hilling on the plate. "Is my friend's soul out ?" ho asked. The priest said it was. " Quite sure .' tbe man asked. " Quito sure," replied tho priest. "Very well," said tho man, "if ho is out of purgatory, they won't put him in again —it is a bad .hilling." li.rtli Wad South Manners. Manners.—i\orth and South contrasted. Once in Exeter Hall, listening to Sptngcon, I had to stand until a Cockney artisan,

seeing me, and noticing that I was rather stout (but not old, for I wan only thirty six at the time), he rose, and pointing to his seat, sa d, " Sit down, sir; you're

'oavy." Going with my wifo to see the Great Ea-tern, I said to a Lancashire man, "Could you obligo a lady with a soat?" "I can joost obligo mesen, oud lad, jocss."

When yen are asked to say grace in Lan eaghiri), they will say, "Now, Mr B—-, will you start us ?" or " Will you set us agate?" After elinner, "Now lovve us, if yon plea?o." Condolence. Mr F — told me of a man who w_s very 1 ill. A friond was condoling bim, and he said, " Yes, I fool it very much to leave mv poor wito and children," " Never mind us," said the wife, "you just get on with your dying, we'll tret on very wall " Love inal—ng From the Pulpit. K. W was onco as nearly -as possible in for a breach of promise action, Dscaus-o in giving religious consolation to a lady ho quoted the words, " 1 will nevor leave theo nor forsake thee." Ho "also waa onco .o printed and pathetic with "Lovost thou mo ?" from the pulpit, that a lady wont into the vestry at cloro of service, and told him sho did lovo him. A Yankee Reporter.

Reporting worthy of a Yankee :-Glad stone at Hawarde-n Church. Hymn, "Jeru salem, my' happy home," sung. At tho line " When shall my labours have an ond ?" tho Premier was observed to join with marked emphasis. What a boast that reporter is ! Conscience. Good old story told by Mr Cr.-ok. _ Hob son, a vory rascally lawyer, was posting up a witness as to what ho was to swear on a oonaiq case. "Aye, Mr Hobson," said witness, " I comia swoar that; it's against my coiiscicnco !" " And dost thou think," said Hobson, " that I am going to lose my case because of thy damned con-scienco ?" An Exceptional Patient. (Solicitor-General for Ireland) asked a medical witness, " Mow, doctor, don't you think euch a dose would poi?on tho devil?" "I am not iv the habit ef prescribing for him," said the doctor. " Aud is that." asked , "tho reason why he is so well and strong ?" "A Pious Man." A new way of sounding a trumpet bofore ono when doing or going to do somo religious work. A post-card delivored with this written thereon : — MY Driiii Slß.—Will you ssk all your nraylriß po'iiile to pray for mc, m I KO to Ireland to ho'il Jlisnl.iii oil-vices! Pray that Inmv preach vith unction, with tn_ lloln Ghost sent down fromllcaecn. I _iv that ft.'/rate uarr of salva tion may roll over Ireland, ami that all thrmißh the nine-is to bo visit?, may bo heard.' What must 1 do to be saved !.' _ O. Leonard. V.M.C.A., Manohoßtor. " What a pious man !" quoth the post man. . _

Game to tlio Last. In a North of England graveyard may be seen a tombstone erected to the memory of ono of the ministers of tho palish. This rovorend gontleman is said by old parish ioners to havo been very troublesome and uiip-ipular ; his character, indeed, was very fishy ; and effort after effort to put him out was mad.-, but failed. The parson tri umphed over all his foes ; a fact recorded on his tombstone -" Hedied holding the liv ing." Other Ancedotes, Mrs B. nnd I occasionally correspond. Vv re always humbug each other, and each porfectiy well knows that whatever the other says is humbug. It is silently under stood. I supposo there is much correspon dence and intimacy of this kind. Brombatn toll me a good story of George Paweon. <t. D, lectured somewhere in Norfolk, in the parish schoolroom. The squire, hearing of it, was in a rage, sivore ho should nevor lecture there again, and said, " Why, the damned scoundrel is an Atheist and a Baptist !" A young follow called to know whero he could find a certificate of his great-grand father's death, which took place in 1826. It is some question of property, and tha lawyers want to be satir-fied that tha old man is dead. A guard on lha Ftivness Railway told my son-in-law yesterday thero was no minister of religion in tho country ho respected and esteemed so highly as he did H. S. Brown. "Why, sir," -aid he, "Mr Brown is tho only parson I over met with on thi? line who evor asked mo what I would tako to drink." A gentleman on tho Thames was rather .tightened, am! a_;ed Iho boaiinan whether many peoplo were lost tit or near that part of tho river. "No," said the boatman, " not many, and they aro always found !"

A Scottish Prize Fight.

Tim Scotland-yard authorities wore com pletely hoaxed recently in connection with a prize-tight. They .received information that Smith and Knifton, with a large band of their supporters, had left London for Ed<_waro in' two furniture vans. A tele gram was immediately sent to the superin tendent of police at Edgeware, instructing him to stop and search the vans. It ar rived, however, too late, for the vans had passed through some time before. A tele gram was at onco sent from the Edgeware superintendent to tho police station at the next town, where the vans were stopped and opened, but there was no pugilist in side—nothing, in fact, but ordinary house hold furniture,

Cheating Death.

Onoe on a time there was a lad, who had lived as a Bervant a long time with a man of the North Country. This man was o master at ale-browing; it was so out-of-the way good the like of it waa not to be found. So, when tho lad was to leave his place and tho man was to pay him tho wages he had earned, ho would take no other pay than a keg of yule-ale. Well! he got t,'and set off with it, and he carried it both far and long, but the longer he carried tho keg the heavier it got, and so he began to look about to see ii anyone were coming with whom he might have a drink, that tho ale might diminish and the keg lighten. So after a long, long time a man came, and he was so dry and lean 'twas a wonder his bones hung together. "Good-day," said the man. " Good-day to you," said the lad. " Whither away ?" asked the man. " Oh, I was only looking about to sco if I could find somo one to drink with, that my keg might bo lightened a littlo, it is so heavy to carry." "Can't you drink as well with me as with anyone else ?" said the man. "Yes; why not ?" said tho lad. "But what sort of man are you ?"

" Thoy cull mo Death," said the man. "The very man for my money," said tbe lad. "Thoe lam glad to drink with," and as he said this he put down his keg and began to tap the alo into a bowl. "Thou art an honest, trustworthy man, for thou treatest all alike, both lioli and poor." So he drank his health, and Death drank his health, and Death said he had nover tasted such drink, and as the lad was fond of him, they drank bowl and bowl about, till the alo was diminished, and the keg grew "light. At last Death said, " I have never known drink which smacked better nor did me so much good as this alo that you have given mo, and I scarce know what to give you in return." But after he had thought awhile he said the keg would nevor get empty, howevor much they drank out of it, and the ale that was in it would becomo a heoling drink, by whioh the lad could make the sick whole again hotter than any doctor. And he also said that when the lad came into a sick porson's room Death would always be there, and show himself to him, and it should be to him for a sure token if he saw Death at tho foot of the bad that he could cure tho eiek with a draught from tbe keg ; but if he sat by the pillow, there was no healing nor medicine, for then the eick belonged to Death, Woll, the lad soon grew famous, and was called in far and noar, and he helped many to health again who had been given over. When he came in ond saw how Death sat by the sick person's bod, he forotold either life or death, and his foretelling was never wrong. He goe both a rich and powerful man, and at last ho was called in to a king's daughter far, far away in the world. She was so dangerously ill no doctor thought ho could do her any good, and so they pro mised him all that ho cared either to ask or have if he would only save her life. Now, when he came to the Princess's room, there sat Death at her pillow ; but as ho sat ho dozed and nodded, and while be did this she felt herself better.

" Now, lifo or death is at stake," said the doctor : " and I fear, from what 1 666, there is no hope."

But they eaid he must save her, if it cost land and realm. So he looked at Death, and while he sat there and dozed again, he made a sign to tho servants to turn the bed round so quickly that Death was loft sitting at the foot, and at the very moment they turned the bod tho lad gave her tho draught, and her lifo was saved.

" Now you have cheated me," said Death, " and we aro quits." "I was forced to do it," said the lad, "unless I wished to lose land and realm."

"That shan't help you much," said Death ; " your time is up, for now you bo long to mo." " Well," said tho lad, " what must bo, must bo : but you'll let me bave time to read the Lord's Prayer first." Yes, he might have leavo to do that; but he look very great caro not to resd the Lord's Prayer; everything else he read ; but tho Lord's Prayer never crossed his lips, and at last ho thought ho had choatod Death for good and all. But when Death thought ho had really waited too long, he went to the lad's houso one night and hung up a great tablet with tho Lord's Prayer painted on it over against_his_bed._. _Sp. gan to'read the tablet, and did not quite sco what he was about till he came to "Amen;" but then he was just too late, and Death had him,—"Oocaa Week."

THE LAST FLY OF AUTUMN.

A Tale of Perfidy and Base Ingratitude.

Very nice down at Brighton just now

Although black fog reigns up there in town, down here tho sun shines brightly. In a balmy breeze dance the wavelets mer rily. Folks, old and young alike, frolic frivolously in the exhilarating oxygen. Protty girls drapped in pretty frocks, furs, and furbelows, smilo and flirt furiously Tho whole world and his wife appear to have put on all their best clothes, and to ba bent on enjoying themselves. On this brilliant afternoon thore is only one drawback here-ono syllable will thus spell it— Fliosi Poor, unhappy things I Their time is up ; thoir days, even thoir hours are numbered. Still, still thoy cling to life with quite piteous tenacity. Fading away gradually, drooping off ono by one, like autumn leave?, have they been day by day, hour after hour, till at last, in my warm, cosy lodgings here close by the old hostel of Bedford, count I one single, solitary, sorrowing fly. You have heard of tho " Last Rose of Summer.' Allow me to present to you the " Last Ely of Autumn." Poor, old, decayed, decrepit gentleman ! Prom early morn, over my tea and toast in bed, to "now, 7 p.m., over my boiled pheasant and savoury omelette, hath this unhappy lingerer paid me his faithful, too faithful attentions. I have watched him, tho last of his race, for many days, and, in spite of unlimited lumps of sugar extended for his nourishment, and the warm hos pitality of my abode, I havo seen him, day by day, hour by hour, grow weaker and weaker, floppier ond more floppier. At last, as I finish my yomelette under the soft li _it of a reading lamp, I suddenly miss his uncertain hoppings and painful gyrations. W 7hat, I ask myself, can have become of him ? By tho time my cafe noire is brought up, I fcave, during tbe study of a playbill for the evening's performance at tbe theatre, quite forgotten my fly. As I strive to light a tablespoonful of cognac over a lump of sugar for my coffeo, I become awaro of something casting a shadow upon my coveted pick-me up. _ Looking np,l perceive a black spot; inside tho opoquo globe of the lamp Looking under, what do I see? My Last Ely of Autumn, apparently in extremis. He has evidently gone up there " for a warm," as a last chance. ■ My meal has dono me good. I feel ola charitable and human. position. Placing my teaspoon in the sweet and strong debris of the coffeo and cognac, I put somo of it insido the globe of the lamp towards him. Ono moment's hesitation, and ho fastens eagerly on to the nourishing pick-me-up. But another fly, a four-wheeled one, is now at the door, and I leave my poor patient rapidly recovering to a speedyconvalescence. In the very nick of time saved his ;ife.

Tho curtain has been up, and down. I am also down, very much so. 'Twaß she, hut hot sho. Sho smiled as sho was wont to smils, but not upon mo The -thing with tho eyo-glas. and masher collar in the stago bo-, no doubt.

Midnight! Onco moro back in my rooms. .lore at least, do?pite the perfidy andfairhlossnessof woman,here do I possess the faithful gratitude of ono I have rescued from the jaws of death. Here, also, on the hob, is my much wanted jorum of warm Liebig, "comforted" with a dose of eau de vie. My faithful fly I see nowhere, no doubt ho has retired to rest hours ago. Good. My heart is filled with rage and bitter disappointment. lam cOld, hungry, and thirsty. Let me drown care and com fort my inner man with a good dose of this medicament. . . Now for it .

Phew I Pish I! Bah !!! I feel horribly uncomfortable. It is too, too dreadful. The one, the only one, upon whose faith ful gratitude I relied, has bad the greed, the base ingratitude, during his saviour's absence, to get into his drink, and I have 111—" Judy."

The Glasgow police are endeavouring to trace a child of eight yeara old who waa adbucted from her mother's houae not long since by two women. Several casea of child abduction were previously reported.

Among People Who Write Books.

On Friday we all went to a literary " Even ing," a sort of salon, where the only alloy in our happiness lay in tho fact that the people wero not labelled. We were almost the only individuals present who had not either written a book or invented a new religion, or become the Evangels of some special form of culture, or contributed in some other way towards making social history. It was highly interesting, I assure J'ou, and we observed much that was instructive. For instance, I may tell you, in confidence, that the male genius does not wear his hair so wild as was once his wont, and that if his eye rolls, it rolls in moderation. Genius is no longer incom patible with perfect civilisation. It is no w possible to possess brains and yet show no volcanic eruption of the hyaciuthino locks ; no lava flow collar wards off a cataract of hair. The unkempt Teufelsdrockh exerted an ovil influence upon clothes uud the u.-o of the hairbrush. Since ho went from'us the young lions roar maneless, and their thick locks know tho scissors of the skilled shearer.

Lady novelists were in force on this occasion. Some looked very like their books; othor very unlike. Who, for in stance, would have recognised in a dark haired and bright-eyed young woman in a pretty white gown, the graphic chronicler of barrack life, to whom we owe a delight ful record of the cavalry infant, Mignon ? Not so difficult was it to identify with her books tne eluoidator of acts behind the footlights. Immensely tall, and otherwise oxtensive, this lady was attired in ruby velvet, with remarkable Vandykes upon the arms. Another novelist, a by no means meagre little lady, looked as if she had never beau troubled by any literary work more severe than that of writing out the dinner menu. The mental strain of delineating the Lady Bluegown and chronicles of tho garden-wall had left no traces upon the brow.

But lest wo should imagine that the pro duction of fiction leads inevitably to the de velopment of adipose tissue, we were shown ono or two authoresses who were of more ethereal proportions. It was inter esting to see the high priestess of Grecian folds discuss the mysteries of peplum and polonaise with the new Ameiican apoßtle of drapery. The latter lady seemed unduly weighed with a Kind of beady cassock, which hung in a straight line from neck to feet. I should like to ask her why we women should flatten ourselves, when na ture has so evidently intended us to run in curves 7 I heard tbo male apostle give some valuable information to a lady about the treatment of wrinkles. I reproduce that little lecture in my own words for you. Never stand in the full glare of o chandelier. Turn always your back to it. A light from above throws the shadows of a wrinkle be neath it, and makes that wrinkle look more deeply, darkly, absolutely wiinkly than it possibly could under other circumstances, There ought to be no chandeliers, he said, and he told how a lady had had ono taken down which had been the pride of her soul aud tho costliest thing in her house.

On the way to the sapper-rooms I over heard the following dialogue between two persons who had evidently been just that moment introdnced : —

" Everybody here is somebody. Who are you ?" " Well, I regret to say it, but I am no body. Don't look disappointed, please, if you can help it. Tell me what haveyow done ? Have you written a book ?" "Oh, no ! But my husband has." " And my wife has." " Oh, that's very comfortable ! Is it not delightful to be insignificant ? I havo always preferred the moon to the sun, have not you ? It must be awful to be always expected to shine." And the two moons seemed to enjoy themselves very completely in the absence of the conjugal suns,—" Truth "

Improvement in East London.

I HEAit that Mr George Sims admits there 13 a marked improvement in the East-end of London brought about by the visits of of tha leisured classes during the last throe or four years. A now and very remarkable agency is yet to be brought to bear upon the district. An old couple living io affluence, who must have beon impressed with the work of Mr "Harry Goslett," have secured what they_c^.njiider_a£epre-^ number, drawn from all ranks of society. These they are now educating in a most peculiar manner for work among the poor of the east- ot London. The boys are taught whist, billiards, fencing, and gymnastics, as well as the secrets of skilled labour, the dignity of which is impressed upon tbem with the necessity of helping others less fortunate than themselves. The home in which the boys live is carefully directed by the married couple, who are childless, and who treat them as their own children, simply holding out to them this ideal as the one object of thoir lives'. It will be very interesting to trace the career of this college of thirteen, and to ascertain whether an early life in the home of the rich will really produce such results as Mr Besant has sketched for us.

Homing Pigeons.

The spirt of pigeon flying is practised by many peoples, Eastern and Western, the newest and the most ancient. But it haß been reserved for the Belgians especially to develop the characteristic of homing, or flying from long distances. This is not the Bport of the Eastern pigeon-flyers, who seldom permit their birds to pass ont of their Bight. And the Belgians have been well seconded by the English breeders, who, in spite of all the disadvantages arising from the insular position of Great Britain, have succeeded admirably. This can_ be proved by tha wonderful array of birds exhibited this week at the Royal Aquarium, birds which are largely the property of members of the London Columbarian Society. Severalhundredsof trained homersareßhown many of which have taken part in the great, races from Cherbourg, Ganville, andßennes this season The show succeeded a remark able sale held last week, at which some very great prices were naid for homing pigeons— the highest ever realised in this country. This was at the dispersion of Mr John W. Logan's celebrated stud. Mr Logan has r-een for some years tho Admiral Rous of the flying fancy, aud his carefully bred birds have all the best blood of Belgian flyers. The total amount paid for 70 birdß was nearly £700, the average being cloee upon £10 per bird. Even untrained youne birds realise^ nearly £7 eaoh. One bird sold for £48 65., another for £39 IBs. Pigeon-flying is a pastime which needs constant attention from the trainer, who must be rigorous in his methods. Only the very best workers are bred from. Training commences as soon as the birds can fly. They are permitted out into the cage, or flight, for a few days, so as to get familiar with the surroundings. Then they are flown 50 yards from home, whioh dis tance is gradually increased. Usually a circle of training stations are used, extending to five or even ten miles, so that the bird may be fully familiarised with the surrounding country. But afterwards the training is in one direction only—that which will be the racing ground. Fifty or sixty miles is generally the extent of the first season's work, though not unfrequently 100 to 150 miles is accomplished. At firßt the birds are always flown just before feeding time, bo that they may be induced, from desire for food, to " home " as speedily as possible ; and care ia always taken to have food awaittng their return. By such a sys tem as this the loss of birds is ofttimes very great; though in good lofts the proportion decreases every year, allowing for unfavour able seasons. Out of a hundred birds bred it is by no meatis uncommon to find but a tithe remaining nt the find of the season. Many have bean shot, victims to theropacity of pot-hunters. But. tbe majority have beon unable to home ; and though their loss may bo regretted because they have failed to come up to the breeders_ expectations—yet they are regarded as better absent than present ;• for suoh birds take time and food, and never pay for either. Ar an example of what may be done by careful breeding, it may be metioned that out of six birds entered by Mr Logan in the Renneß race, a distance of over 300 miles, four wore back the same day, though it was stormy and bad in every respect. Tbe others came the next morning. Long and many have been tbe di-uasions on the homing instinct, but as yet there has been no satisfactory ex planation thereof. Sight cannot alone account for it; and it would almost appear as if a sense had been given to tho lower creatures which has been denied to man, and which even baffles his efforts to dis cover. Dogs and cats, as well as pigeons, have been known to return to their old homes under the most adverse conditions, when Bight and memory could have ho share in the business. But thoRO who look at the pigeons shown in the pens at the Royal Aquarium, noting their bright eyes, their development of skull, and their muscular wings and bodies, can see that these are vastly different from the usual denizens of pigeon-shows.—Home Paper,

Burials at Sea.

' A lictik knot of people aro sitting round two officers piaying blackgammon ; others are sleeping or dreaming awake, some in thoir cabins, and some in lounging chairs on deck, three or four smoking and lazily talking in their dreams. Col. Montifex alone seems quite up to time, and is telling stories in the horse-box of little incidents by sea and land of his voyages and travels. He was on board a large steamer return ing from the West when they touched nt Alexandria, and shipped, among others, an invalided soldier, who was so seriously ill that the doctors on board considered he could not possibly live through the voyage. The man, however, had an im pression, or the doctors had by come observation given him the idea, that if he could perspire it would savo him. He further believed that the only way to pro duca this effect would be to put him in boiling water They told him such treat ment would be fatal of course—bo would be scalded to death at once ; but nothing would dis-uade him ; and at length, at his earnest request, they sent for Colonel Montifex to talk the matter over.

Tlio dying soldier fixed his large strained oyes on the commanding officer, and told him his belief, insisting that the cnly thing to make him " sweat" would be to put him in boiling water, and entreating tho colonel to give tho word, which he knew must be obeyed. It was only the hallucination of a mind already wandering; but to humour and quiet him the colonel gave an order, after consulting the doctors ; and they had him put into the hottest water he could bear. Of course, it was all to no purpose, but the man was satisfied, and now calmly made up his mind to die. First he exacted a promise that he ehould be buried at sea, and then asked the colonel to write a letter for him to his father, to be posted the day after his death. Montifex promised that all should be done exactly as he wished, and then the poor fellow dic tated his letter as nearly as I oan remember in the following words : —

•' Dbar Father,—l died yesterday. I was buried to -day in the sea, at my requebt; BO you will have no trouble about mo. Give my love. Sec Your affectionate Son,— When the letter was finished his mind was at rest, and he lay back and slept peacefully—a sleep that will not be broken , till the last awakening. ; The following day, when the ship was approaching Venice, which was her next destination, they buried him in the sea, in fulfilment of the promise made to him ; but as soon as ths vessel got into port, and the health officer discovered what had been done, their suspicions were aroused, and thero was a great disturbance. It was said the man must have died of some malignant and dreadful disease, or else the captain would not have been in such a hurry to bury him at sea, when the ship was so near port. So in spite of all explanation and remonstrance, the steamer was put in quarantine, and no person, of course, was allowed to land. ■

In this unexpected difficulty the captain determined to sail across to Trieste, and utilise the period of probation ; hut on re turning to Venice he found himself in more trouble than before. Tbe body, stitched in canvas, had been washed ashore. There was no mistaking its identity, and the city was in consternation.

Needless to say, no harm came of it, and indue time the excitement subsided; but it was remarkable that the poor fellow waa buried on shore after all; although the object of his simple desire was equally attained, that his father at home should have "notrouble." a

1 was late dressing this morning, and at 8 a.m., while so engaged, it occurred to me that the ship had stooped. It could not have been for more than a few minutes, and when I came on deck no one knew what we had stopped for; bat in those few minutes the body of our head Lascar, the sorang of yesterday, had been committed to the deep by his comrades. He had been ill only a few days of remittent fever, and was a fine, strong, healthy-looking man of exceptionally handsome appearance.'" ' It seems that these Asiatics, when taken ill, are apt to go off quickly; and if there iB anything at all serious tbe matter with them, they are prone to give up t_ once and declare they shall die? When aLascar says ho shall die he has made np his" mind -6__n~ .se"_loctorß can do to save him. Sometimes he refuses to take either medicine or food; and Dr. Quiller told ihe he had before now knelt on the chest of such a man, forced open his mouth, and compelled bim to take stimulating diet.

Our serang, however, was in ho way obsti nate ; he took what was given him, and did all that he was told; bat yesterday hfter neon he said he should die, and at 11 p.m. he was lifeless, although, of course, all that medical skill could suggest was dohe to save him.

Hiß comrades anointed the body and drapsd it in pure white, filling the eyes, nose, ears, and mouth with cotton wool. Then they sang a dirge as they carried his remains to o hospital cabin, where they . laid him, and burned candles and incense . all through the night. At "eight in the morning, nine hours after his death, wrapped up in the usual canvas coffin, weighted at the feet, they launched him into the blue Atlantic, into the silence of a grave 2,000 fathoms deep. Besting on a wooden grating, the body was lowered slowly down, and down, to the level of the sea, then a little lower, till a wave lifted the burden and bore it away. It must have glided silently downwards, past the open port of my cabin, at the moment that I paused to wonder what the ship had stopped for.—" London Society."

Growth of Morphiomania.

Treatme t of the Dreaded Habit in

France. ~

In the course of the last few years the disease -which the doctors call niorphio mania has made formidable headway all over France. In the oapital ita victims almost rival those of alcoholism. At Belle vue a great hospital has been opened foe the care, and, if possible, the cure of these patients. Here at least all the symptoms of the disease may be studied, and curious statistics of its course and of the character of its victims have been collected. < The disease in itß present form is necessarily but of recent origin. Morphia itself was only discovered in 1816. The cure of it is very rare. It is found that both the use and the deprivation of the drug lead the victims almost inevitably to suicide, I and at Bellevue there are cushioned rooms for some of the patients and a constant watch kept on all. One is not surprised!to hear that the chief sufferers are woman. After women come doctors. Ono can see the reason of this. A few years ago the injec tion of morphia was almost a surgical operation. Doctors would have most oppor tunity and least fear of the results. Now, unfortunately, the instruments have been made bo perfect that tbe use of them has ceased to be either painful or formid able.

Amusing Ruffilans.

The playful humour of thieves and burglars has often formed a subject for the ordinary narration of popular novelists. Lytton'a ruffians have always a refined jocularity concealed about their composition; the rascals whom Dumas had painted in such vivid colours can crack a joke as well as a head ; .and Dickens's villains are hardly ever of so low a type as to be unable to appreciate a humorous situation. Mr Quilp enjoyed himself greatly when, he returned, to life and found his disconsolate widow bewailing his loss ; Fagiiv crackled with genuine mirth as he taught his apprentices to pick pockets, i and tho Artful Dodger is the very embodi ment of Arab wit. Fiction, however, has | never come up to truth in this Tespect. There is still wanting among popular novels a parallel to tho northern rogue who broke out of prison, and sarcastically wrote* -upon the door of hia cell, " Rooms to let;" and the delicate irony of the gentlemen who last week absconded with £600 from a railway carriage is unmatched. By a skil ful tranference they replaced the bag of Bovereigns which they appropriated by an identical article containing a quantity of iron nuts. The stroke of satire there iB o_ the surface. What did the thieves .-mean. but that they were giving the police _ particularly bard nut to crack !

Profits of Brewing.

More than a hundsed years ago, when Thrale's Brewery, at Bankside, was about Ito pass into the hands of Barclay and Per kins, Dr. Johnston described the business as "the potentiality of growing, rich, h&^ yond the dreams of avarice." Tnatt.jA^ waa true then appears to be equallyfcr day. The will of Mr Thomas Majv^ East End brewer, haa just brp £410,561 personalty, besides I Norfolk bought for £38,750, V / property in Winchmore Etfll. Tk / does not appear to have any bene, / terest in the will* ] \ / • ■ ,':v:\ ~./.., .;.

THE AUCKLAND EVENING STAR, SATURDAY, FEBRUARY 19, 1887

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