MORNA DALE; OR, The Guardian's Forgery.

By SYLVANUS COBB, Jr.

[We here give a sjnopsisof lhat portion of "Morna Dale " which has nlroady been pub lished, so that new renders o£ the Stab can begin with this instalment and understand tho story jußt the same as though they had read it from the beginning : The heroine, Morna Dale, is tho only daughter of Dr. Lawrenco Dale, and is betrothed to Dr, Ralph Ashmore, a young physician ot great promise, who has a fortune of eighty thousand pounds. Dr. Dale's brother. Sir William Dale, is ill in India, where he holds a high government appointment, and has sent (or tha doctor to vißlt him as speedily as possible. Dr. Dale resolves to go to hlB brother, and to leave his affairs in the hands of Jonas Crandal, who is Sir William's business manager. Ralph and Morna both distrusted and disliked Crandal, and did not want to havo him left in charge of the estate, but Doctor Dale was immovable on that point: and as Ralph lett tho library, ho aaw Jonas Crandal coming Blowly anil thought fully up the gravelled walk of thehouao. From thlß point the story is continued in tho chapter which follows.]

CHAPTER 111,

AS ADROIT PIECE OF RASCALITY

Jonas Crandal was a man Blightly above the average height, hoavily-framed, broad shouldered, full-chested, with limbs muscu lar and powerful; in Bhort, he was, phy. sically, a large man in every way. His age was five-and fifty; his complexion was dark, and rendered darker by long years of exposure to the weather, in storm and sun shine, and in the regions of tropical hoat. His face, studied by the physiognomist, would be called hard, selfish and cruel; -yet he had a way of smiling and a manner of speaking that might well deceive even the most intelligent observer. His eyes -were vory dark, in the deep shadow ap pearing black ; but whon in a strong light they took on a purple tinge, verging upon a dark, changeable green. His brows were

heavy and deeply arched ; his hair, once almost black, was now plentifully sprinkled with silver, being thin, almost to baldness, on the top of his head, but quite thick and crisp at the back and over the ears.

When Jonas Crandal was in pleasant tnood, and in social converse, be might be called a handsome man : and many people thought him puch under every circumstance. Id. the matter of his relationship to the Dales, Sir William's wife had been his half sister, she having been Lucy Crandal. The name father had been parent to both, but Lucy had been tho child of a second marri age. When Sir William was married Jonas was away at sea, and had been away many years. The one human beinjr he had loved In his youth had been his little bright-eyed half-sister: and when he at length came home, after on absence of ten years and more, he brought to her gifts from every quarter of tha globe. She hart been married •then four years. Whether the half-brother was moved by selfish aims, or whether it came from the worm promptings of hia heart, does not matter. Enough to say, when he found her the wife of a wealthy and influential baronet, he bent eve«*y •energy to tho winning of the husband's con fidence and good-will: and he succeeded. The baronet gave him a comfortable dwell ing, and to it Jonas broughthisson, Thomas, a boy, then, of tender age

A few years later Sir William's beautiful young wife died, and shortly tbereafer Jonas went away to sea again, taking bis ■son with bim. This time he was absent six ■years, and when ho again returned he bad Heft his Bon behind him, the youth having

And thus, in brief, it came to pass that when Sir William had mado up his mind that he would obey the call of his govern men., and go to India, he gavo to Jonas Crandal entire charge of his largo estate, calling him to come and make the grand __ld abbey his home; to keep on the old .servants ;in short, to keep up tho bouse as (though the lord were himself there. And sve will say, no man, no agent, no lieu tenant, could have been more faithful to his trust than he hod thus far been. He was not a man of small vices. If he had done things not e_.ac.ly on the square, be sure he had done them so secretly that the world never knew it; and if he had in mind any plan of wrong for self again, be sure it was a grand scheme, deeply laid, to be wrought only when it could be done safo.y and surely. __,_., Once more Jonas Crandal devoted him self to cultivating the friendship ond good graces of his wealthy and aristocratic brcther-in-law ; and with wondrous suc cess. Jonas talked, and shed tears whilo he talked, of his departed sister. It won ±he widower's heart. It had so chanced, on a certain day not long after Sir William had gone to India, that Dr Lawrence Dale, while rounding the upper headland of the cove in a small sail boat, was overturned and cast into the deep ■ees. He had been careless and inattentive, never thinking that on losing the lee of the .high bluff he might be struck by a cross wind and a fresh. Such was the case. As the sudden blast from the cove struck his sail the boom jibed, striking him on the side of the head, so that man and boat went over together. Had the doctor been in pos session of his senses he might have swum, but not a sense was left him after the ,ibmg of the heavy boom. When Dr Dale came to his senses he found himself on the green sward of the shore, tbe face of Jonas Crandal looking down upon him, whilo the hands of others were briskly rubbing his breast and his arms and his sides with wadded blankets. He afterwards learned that Crandal had eeon his mishap, and had at once leaped into a light skiff and put off to his asais tance. , . " On reaching the spot where -your boat still lay upon her beam-ends," said Jonas, " I saw you several feet below the surface, where you seemed to be suspended, with your knees drawn up almost to your chin, and your hands clasped over your breast. Of course I supposed you must be entirely gone—drowned—yet I resolved to save you, if a spark should be left. Quicker than 1 can tell it, my coat and boots were off, and I was in the water, having pluDged in head foremost, I caught you by tho hair and h -ought you up. ¥heo I changed my hold in -.*« clothing, and struck out for my v-ff Qy that time, however, two other boats had ."«<*****> and you were dragged boats nao . - quickly discovered hE? you were l 4* drLisd- Your lungs reflated you would "°*K WV"^,X^ Then the doctor himse.' explained toe mystery. With the blow that had deprived & ymofL.se his breath had wrfM^ he had not breathed again The cOTUrtoM condition which had resulted had at once suspended the involuntary action of the diaphragm and the intercostals, so there had been no act of inhalation, consequently no drawing of water into the lungs. However, it was a narrow escape, fcven before that Dr. Dale had come to regard Jonas Crandal as a most excellent man, but after that he loved him. In h« great, warm heart he could find no disposit.on to criticise the man who had so gallant by saved his Ufa { so if one spoke slightingly ,of his brother's steward, he would not ■listen; and if, perchance, ono spoke> disj iparagingly, he warmly repelled what no held to be a slander. And this was the man who on wus sum mer afternoon entered Dr. Dale's library, finding only the host himself present. He knew that otherß had been there as he came up the path to the outer door, for he had seen them plainly ; but he was neither sur prised nor disappointed. He had come to see the doctor, and he cared to see no one "My dear Crandal "—after they had shaken hands and were both seated—"l am glad you have come. I have my matters all fixed, and can turn over everything to your care and keeping in a very few minutes. J have so arranged with my backers at Wal lingham tbat you can take the account as my agent to-morrow. Aye, you might do it this evening, were the bank open. The visitor bowed modestly, seeming to find hiß feelings too.deep for words - at least, that was the idea he meant his manner should convey.. , , " Tell me," continued the hoßt, at length breaking the silence, " do you think of any thing in which you would like instruction or advice?" ~ , .-,_„,___,„, "There is one thing," replied Crandal after a little thought. "Wehave *'

it right and proper to exerciso over your precious child-God bless her dear, good heart I What a priceless treasure you leave bjhind you. Did you know I once had a daughtea ? Ah, how beautiful she was I But tho angels took her within ono short month aft9r her mother passed over the dark river."

"No," said the Doctor, " I never knew,

His heart was full of sympathy; and when ho saw Jonas Crandal wiping his dark eyes, he was forced to wipo his own. No wonder Lawrence Dalo had never known, Tho man had Hod to him. Ho had never had a daughter. As for his wife, when she had passed over the dark river, or if sho bad gone over at all, he did not know ; for be had deserted her, taking bis infant boy with him, in a land far, far away. She had been a beautiful Creole of Brazil, whom he had there married and there left.

" With regard to Morna," went on tho visitor, whon he had done wiping his eyes, "I only wish to insure her best good. I may tell you frankly, however, of what I was thinking. Suppose something should hap pen—somo question should arise of a legal aspect—something where tho authority of a parent might be needful to her good. If I could produce a written paper under your hand, giving me the right to fight for hor, if nood bo, or, at all events, to protect her, it would simplify mottors. The chances aro that the paper would never see tho light of day j but—'"

At this point tho loving father put out his hand imploringly. He romemberod what his daughter had said, and what he had promised her.

" No, no,no I" he cried,with a perceptible shudder at the thought of what his dear child would say if she could overhear. "We will not think of that. Morna is old enough to take care of herself ; and,more over,! have this vory doy given my consent to her union with Ralph Ashmore. They will not marry immediately, but we may consider it an event sure in the not distant future. So, you see, sho will find a de fender-and a gallant ono—in her dear lover."

Probably novor before in hia life had Jonas Crandal been called upon to exercise a more powerful control over tbo outward manifestation of his feelings than he had been forced to exerciso when tho ansounco menfc of Morna's engagement with his patron's prot-gii had fallen upon bis ears, He had turned pale, and had boon shaken from head to foot ; and for a fow moments ho had turned away his face to hide the emotion which he could not instantly crush out of sight.

In the end, however, he waa as calm and sereno [as could be, and the doctor,deeply engaged with his own feelings, had noticed nothing strange or unusual in his com panion. "My dear Doctor, you will pardon mo for tho thought I spoke, and you will attri bute it to my love for you and yours, and my deep desire to bo of use. And you will allow me to congratulate you on tho brilliant prospect opening to ycur daughter. I have known young Ashmore intimately, and I regard him as one among ten thousand. I—"

At this point a servant entorod—a man in the doctor's employ—and to him the latter turned to learn what was wanted. At that same moment the brow and the face of Jonas Crandal grew black as night. The veins of bis temples swelled : his hands wero tightly clenched ; and his strong jaws shut like a vise. If his thoughts could have taken words, they would have been curses, dire and deep, upon the youth to whom the hand of Morna Dale had beon promised.

"What Is it, George?" asked tho doctor, mildly, turning to the intruder $a he spoke. " If you please, Doctor, what shall i do with tho hamper that has your bedding In it!" " Why, put it with tho other things, of course, and send it along. The drag should be hero by this time." "It is horo, sir, ond everything is on except the bati-p-i*, uijd that is not marked. Thoro Isn't a scrap nor a'dot on it to toll whose it is."

"Surely, that will not do!" eriod ths master. "Here! t will give you a slip with my name on it. You can draw it under ono of tho strands of the cover, or tie it to the handlo. Wait a moment."

With that the doctor turned to his writing-table, which stood directly .at hia elbow, and taking the first piece of blank paper that came to his hand, he proceeded to fold it over at the bottom, thus making a crease by which it might be torn, after which he smoothed it back in place, and on the slip thus plainly marked he wrote his name, using an old quill pan, and dashing it off quickly and freely. Ho had thrown down the pon, and was turning tho paper to tear jt, whon a new thought occurred to "Ah IBy the way, I have a small pack age of books whjeh may as well be put on the drag. Como with mo, George, and tako them along with you." Ho had arisen while speaking, and turned towards the door communicating with an other apartment of tho library, into which he made his way, closely followed by his servant. . Jonas Crandal was quivering like an aa pan j his face, of an ashen hue, bent slightly forward, gazing with an eager, lurid inten sity upon the papsr upon which tho doctor had written. It was an ordinary sheet of foolscap j about an inch and a half of the lower margin had been folded over snugly, then put back in place, and on it now Btood boldly out the name " Lawbenop Dalp." Perhaps for the space of three seconds the man gazed upon that written name after the host had left the room ; and then his whole aspect changed. He became a thing of life and action With swift, noise less movements ho glided to the table j drew to his hand another sheet of paper— a duplicate of the first—folded it os that had been folded, then took the pen, dipped it in the ink, and wrote aB the doctor bad written. Something of the man's character for firmness ond tenacity of purpose—for stern and unrelenting pursuit o£ his prey— may bo found in the fact that while he forged that name not a nerve nor a muscle shook. Had hia fingers been of Bteel, and his arms of iron, they could not have been more firm and steady. When be had put aside the pen, hp gave a single instant to a comparison of tho two signatures ; and a smile of diabolic satisfac tion curled around his bard lips as he marked the similarity. The sheet upon which Dr. Dais had written he carefully folded, and put ft away into an inner pocket of his waistooat, laaving tho other [n its place. Then he resumed his seat.and toek up a copy of the "Times," which he appeared to be busily reading when his host returned, followed by the servant. "One moment, George, and I will give you tbe slip for the hijmpsr. He came to the table, moving and manipulating quickly. First, he pressed a blotting-pad over the written name; then he took a sharp-edged ruler, laying it along upon the crease where the paper had been doubled ; then tore off the slip, and, without a thought of looking at it further, gave it to the waiting serving man. .-"fhere, George; secure that to tho hamper, and tell the drayman there ia nothing more for bim to carry. Bo sure the books go. And 1 think you had better go with him. jf want you to s&o my things propsrlv handled and safely stowed.' The man promised that he would do as he had beon bidden; then took up the package of books and went away. " My dear Doctor i" ejeciaimed Jonas, as his host once more turned towards him. " I wish you were not going from us. ~ ou do not know how the people love you I You would not believe how deep is the reg-et that you are going from them I Tbo great-hearted man was deeply moved. He waif not open to low flattery ; but such words os Cranial had spoken, seeming to flow from the depths pf honest feeling, rinsed him. anS mad* Mm grateful, however, he would have it go no further. Before his companion could continue in the same strain, wj-ich he was evidently prepared to do, the doctor came back to bU"H ßfs' very near the close of the day," he said, " and w.e have several matters yet *° "Sink wo shall como to an understand ing readily." returned Jonas, blithely. Thou, after a xsom.ont's P»°f°*. aD,f ™ £ a lowering of tone, he added: vvitn regard to your precious daughter, we will consider that tX settled. She is her own mistress in every way. Really I shall be happy to serve her. Suppose wo so under -8 The'doctor nodded with a pleased and grateful smile ; and the other went on : " Doctor, let me beg of you, I ask you to promise me. that you will not speak to Morna about any.hipg I have said with re gard to her. Were she to know that I even hinted to you anything with vegard tc; a written paper, giving me authority, sao wouid be afraid of me. You will not speak of it to her ." __ . „ " Certainly I will not 5 I promise you. " You will not mention that tbe subject of care over her was in any way alluded to by me ?" , "I will not, dear Crandal s yon may de pend upon it. I shall simply tell her that she may find in you a friend to whom she

may look at any time for guidance, for help or for protection. No, no, dear friend, so far from speaking a word that can sot the heart of my child against you, I shall strive, by every means possible, to inspire her with confidence and esteem."

Jonas Crandal laid his hand over his heartandbowedprofoundly.his swarthy face lighted by a glow of pleasurable satisfac t on. It was not wholly the promise of Morna's father that so happily moved him. Between his right hand and his heart lay the folded paper bearing the bona fide signa ture of Lawrence Dale ; and above that signature was a broad, blank page, where on was space sufficient for the conveyance of a kingdom I Ah I who should say what might befall tbe voyager amidst the storm and tempest that must be inevitably encountered in thoso thousands of miles of ocean pilgrim age I

CHAPTER IV,

DEPARTURE — A VISITOR,

Two days later Dr. Lawrence Dalo stood upon tho quarter deck of a large govorn mont steamship that lay, swinging by an anchor-buoy, in Plymouth Harbour, and with him, m close conversation, was tho man in whose care ho had left all of material wealth that ho owned in England—Jonas Crandal.

"My dear Lawrence I" cried that indi vidual, unusually pathetic in look and tono, " even now, if tho power were mine, I would not let you go. In spito of all that I can do, the thought will haunt me—tho dark, harrowing thought—that— But.no ! I will not darken tho last moments of our communion with gloomy Imaginings. God bless and keep you I and bring you back to us in health and strength and happi ness I"

"Amen I and Amen I" fervently ejacu lated tho doctor, at the same time grasping the other's band, and pressing it warmly. "I go,' he nddej, "knowing that my business is in safe and faithful hands. Jonaß,—you will havo an eye to that pre cious child. Let her not want for anything that you can give or do."

"Lawrenco Dale!" said the dark-faced, powerful man, with a ring of truthful candour in his voice not to bo mistaken, "I will regard her as a child of my own, Wero sho of my own blood—my living daughter, grown to beautiful womanhood, —I could not do more for hor than I will do I Let your heart rest satisfied on that score."

" It shall, Jonas ! It shall I And now, — God bless yourself I ond make you pros porous and content until wo meet again I Faithful I know you will bo."

A little later Crandal turned away, wiping his eyes as ho did so, and passed ovor tbo side of the ship, and sat down upon tho deck of a modest tug-boat that lay alongside

And then Morna and Ralph, who had been standing apart, against tbo taffrail, came up to speak their words of farewell and blessing. The doar girl had promised her father, if he would allow hor to como with him on board the steamer, that she would not break down with her burden of griof; and she did not. She wept; but she could hold her dear lover's band, feeling that he, at least, would bo left to hor.

" Papa, what was Mr Crandal saying, when he looked round at mo so sharply ?"

" My precious child I" said the anxious parent, taking her hand, and gazing upon hor imploringly, "let mo beg of you that you will not look upon your Undo Crandal with ao much of doubt and suspicion You havo no reason for it,—indood you have not. If you could know all that he has said, and the manner in which ho has said it, I boljeye you would hate him. When ho looked, around upon yourself, darling, shortly beforo ho went away, he was speak ing of his own little daughter that he loet." " lan't It curious, papa, that in all the years we have known that man wo never heard of his littlo daughter before '."

"Not at all, Morna. It is with him a painful subject. She and her mother diod in tho sumo month, in a far distant land. Ho was saying, my biassed ono, that, if you would lot him, bo would lovo you as though you wore his own. But enough ot him. You will bo your own mistress ; and you may seek at his hands just as much or just aa littlo of favour as you please." At that iuncture tho voice of an officer was heard calling upon all visitors to "stand by for leaving the ship." And as au echo to his call came a shrill shriek frnm tho steamer's safety-valve, followed by a Joud clang of tbe bell.

"0 I papa I must you go so far away from us'f" Her arips were around his neck ; hor head pillowed upon his bosom - with all thoughts of Jonas Crandal gone in the shriek of steam and the clang of tbe bell.

"Hush, darling! I shall come back In good time, finding you happy and contont. Come—remember your promise. Let mo

carry with me the memory of bright and gladsome smiles." "0' no papa,- not gladsome! Do not ask of me that. I cannot be glad."

" Well, well, sweet one,—bo blithesome and gay. Think of my home coming, and of tho lovo that I shall bring back with me. And—think, —suppose I should be permitted to bring back my doar brothor, alive and woll I"

"Oil say Amen I to that, papa, with all my heart. But if you will only bring back yourself, I will be grateful and con tent." "Morno I" sajd the doptor, holding the dear one away, and gating into her face with an expression of calm and holy trust, —" Morna I"—with a world of strength and faith In his voice—" Something tells me—l hear.l feel it, as though it were a voice from heaven —that I shall come back to you safe and well. There may bo storm and tem pest, and I may meet dangers on tbe way, but in the end all will be well.'

" Heaven grant it I" " Amen I and amen I" burst from Ralph's lips. And ho turned away to wipe from his eye a tear ere it should reveal itself upon his cheek, Before further words could be spoken, the call of the ship's boatswain— his voice like the blast of a trumpet—fell upon their ears: "Hear! Hear! Hear! All ye for the shore away to the tenders I Remember your gangways I" There were two smaller crafts alongside, one on the starboard side for the gentle-folk, and another on the port side for those of lesser degree who had come to see members of the crew. &t this moment a few whispered words from Ralph brought bappy thoughts to Morna's heart and a bright smile to her face. She onco more threw her arms around her father's neck and kissed him ard blessed him, while the smile still lurked around the dimples of her ruddy cheeks, and gleajped in her radiant eyea; and bo fore the bjtter grief of parting had chaaod it away, hor dpar lover had taken her band und drawn her apart ,* and jvhen she would have given away to hor tears, a great surge of tho shore-going people called all hor thoughts in tho direction of self-preserva. tion ; and once she really laughed at the ridiculous figure presented by a fat, fuEsy old lady of high degree, who had como very near to being knocked over and treoldpf) down by a gang of seamen who were "running away " with the fall of the tackle by which the ship'o gig was being run up to the davits at the atera, She did not laugh at tho old lady's mishap, but at tho language she applied to the poor Bailors in whose way ahe bad been. So.in ti'uth.Lawrence Dalo was permitted co carry with him tho picture, i*i memory, of his daughter's face wreathpd in happy smiles.

Ralph and Morna were among the last te leave the ship, tho executive officer, who was a dear and devotod friend of Dr. Dale's, having kindly kept a spaco open for them, and gone himself to see them over the As Boon aB the last'visiter had loft the great ship, a gun was fired from one of her bow ports, and before the smoke hod rolled away she had been ca9t loose from the buoy, her powerful engines were In motion, and ere long hor sharp prow was pointed on hor course to India.

"Ralph .1 Ralph!" " What is it, darling 1" the young man asked, in quick alarm, for there was tho ring of a sharp pain in Morna s voice. _ , "Papa never said a word about money- He said he would leave ft so that I should not bo obliged to coll upon .Jonas* Cran dal " "My precious," said Ralph, drawing her further away from other ears and speak ng in a whisper, " do you really dread that man so much ?" , "O, Ralph, I cannot tell you how muoh I fear and distrust him. I Bupposo It is foolish, but I cannot help it. Do you think me so very foolish !" ._..___._._*_. -t Had he spoken tho honest sentiments of hia heart, he would hove told her that, far from thinking hoi foolish, he agreed with her entirely. His distrust of Jonas Crandal was aa deep and abiding aa her own. But he wijuld not add to her weight of oare and anxiety if he coulcj help iji.'"

"I do not think you foolish stall, dear Morno. We can none of us help our strong impressions. I do not wonder that you dielike the man.' But, surely, you have no reason to feat him. I believe he will be very kind to you. At all events, if I wero in your place, I would treat him respectfully and kindly, if I could. Don't lot any act of your own give him cause for harshness or ill-feeling."

.0 I I shall be respectful, Ralph—never fear ; but I shall never like the man. For the life of mo, I cannot understand how papa can put such trust in him." " Remember, dear one, ho saved your father's life; and I must say it was a gallant thing ho did, Your father's great, warm, generous heart could not, after that, fall to hold him in grateful remem brance. ITurther, think how Mr Crandal haß administered —or, rather taken care of —your dear uncle's property. I believe ho has the reputation of being one of tho moat honest and upright men, and ono of tho most trustworthy, we have in our section of country."

" Well," said tho girl, with marked hesitation in her manner, " I may be wrong, but I do not think it, I cannot put away tho feeling that Jonas Crandal is our enemy. He is my enemy ; and he mast be yours." " Hush I Other ears are near."

When Morna found opportunity to speak again,sho roferred once more to tho fact that her father had forgotten to tell hor about her money. He had promised her that ho would so arrange matters that sho should not be obliged to call upon his steward—in which light ho rogardcd Mr Crandal —for money. " Wait, wait," said Ralph, hopefully. " He moy havo made arrangements at his bankers'. If ho has done so, you will hear from thorn." And thero tho subject dropped, Tjgother tho lovers stood near tha taffrail of tho small steamer as sho moved towards tho shoro, and watched the great ship on her way out into the broad channol ; and when tho headland intervonod, and thoy could sco hor no longer, thoy turned thoir attention to othor objects of intorest, of which there wero plenty on overy hand. It was past noon when they stepped on Bhoro from tho tender, and having found their hotel and oaton dinner, they thought of home. Thero was a train to leave for Wallingham at four o'clock, by taking which thoy would bo enabled to roach homo ear)y in the evening ; and this thoy took. At six o'clock they wero in tho old cathedral town, where Ralph visited tho hospital to which ho was attached, taking Morna along with him. He had hoped that he might bo sparod for a day or two, knowing what a reliof his society would bo to tho lovo one in tho first hours of hor father's absence, but the call of duty was Inexorable. His rooont absence In London had caused a prossuro upon the time of others, and tho demand for his presenco during the few days' immediately following was imperative. "Do not ask them any more," said Morna, with a bright sparkling of prido in her beautiful eyos. "I ought to be proud that you aro so nooossary to tho institu tion. In a few days, porhaps, you can got away, and then you can come and see me. I shall need you then more thin I shall need you now. Fur the prosont I shall think, ln a few days your dear father will bo sunshine to mo." And bo it was loft. . __ But ho was to have that evening and the coming night to himsolf. They ato suppor with good old Dr. Laybrook, tho president of the college, with whom Ralph had pur sued his medical studios, and after that thoy rode home to Covedale, distant only five miles, in the bright moonlight, reach ing tho Grange shortly after nine o'clock. That nie.it Balph slept beneath the samo roof with his promised wife ; and on the following morning.aftor an early breakfast, one of tho grooms mado ready to drivo him over to tho hospital. " Morna," ho said, as tho pair of thorn stood In tho Hear old library, after tho carriage had beon brought to the door, " 1 wish you would promiso mo ono thing ; that you will tako to yoursolf no more trouble in thoughts of Mr Crandal. I havo thought tho mattor all over ; havo given it caroful and oandid consideration. You know Ido not llko him. I should fear to trust him In a matter where it could bo for his material iotorost to do me wrong. Yot, in tho present caso, I do firmly beliovo that lie will feel it for his interest to bo as kind and gontlomanly—as just and honourable— in his doportment towards yourself as he con possibly be. At all events, you will havo .10 ooo»,ioa for four or dread for a fow days to como ; and then I shall bo once more with you. You can keep your eyos open, and report to mo your discoveries." Tho dear girl smiled as sho replied ; and presently a light, .(Ivory laugh followed. Tho idea of reporting her discovonos ap peared comical. . "O I Ralph I" os he was upon tho point of turning away, " will yon not go into the bank at Wallingham, and see if papa lott word there about monoy for me . I think he must havo dono so " The young man promised that ho would attend to tho business that vory day, and drop hor a lino bofore night. Then the parting kiss, and tho parting blessings, woro given, and tho youthful physician was vory soon on his way to his post of duty. The day pasaod with Morna droarily. Sho spent most of it in the gardon, and in tho ttablo, with her palfroy and her dog. Whou tho shadows of evening had fallen the postman brought her a letter from Ralph He had seeu her father's bankers, but had been able to gain no satisfactory information.

"They tell me," ho wrote, "that your father called upon them several times pre vious to bis departure, for tho purpose of arranging for tho conduct of hia financial affairs during his absence. His accounts, thoy said, had beon all brought up to tho present time, and placed in tho hands of Jonas Crandal. Ho had drawn out but vory little money for his own uso, having instead toKon drafts or lottere of credit on Calcutta. Your name, thoy assured mo, had not been montioned. But don't bo down-hsarted, darling. It will all como out right, bo sure. Ono thing you know, and let it easo your mind at onco :If you find yourself without money, and will not go to Mr Crandal, como to mo. I ask it aB a favour, as a blessing. Mark you, fail not in this." That was the end oithe business portof tho letter. She read it to tho end ; then road over tho passage of love asecond time, and athird timo ; then she glanced onco more at the bueineas report; then folded it up, and told herself that she would think of the pro position her dear lover had made. Two days passed since her father's de parture, and a third had dawned. After breakfast she called hor faithful Newfound land, Rover, and walked up to the high point of the headland, where Ralph had told hor of his lovo She came home to dinner ; and after dinner ahe wont into the library, whore sho throw herself into her dear papa's great oasy-ihair and fell fast asleep. ghe slept; and she dreamed—dreamed of her father; thpn of a storm on the ocean She stood with Ralph on the summit of the headland", and looked off upon thp waters of the channel lashed into fury by a mighty tempest. Anon sho saw fragments of wreck, and, clinging to one of them, a human form. A little longer and she recognised her father ; and he was sinking. She turned to speak with her companion, but, instead of looking upon the face of her dear lover, she behold the most terrible creature sho had over seen pictured-a^ dragon's head upon a human body j then it changed, and became tbe body of a dragon with a human head, and the face was the faco of Jonas Crandal! With a great effort she struggled to get away; sho tried to cry out j but her strength was gone-an oppression as of suffocation was upon her. At length, with one last desperate throe, she cried aloud, and—awoke. Awoke to find a servant at hor Bide, with a hand supporting her head, which had fallen over into a position of great discomfort. "Deai lady, Mr Crandal is in tho draw- ] ing room, and wishes very much to see Morna started up, and rubbed her eyes. Had she caught the name aright ? "Who wishes to see mo ?" " Mr Crandal. He 6ays he will detain you but a few minutes. " Do you know what he wants ?" ' * No. I will ask him, if you would like to have me." " No, no. It does not matter. Wait a moment. Let me think. O I what a dream I had I" , , "J do not wondor at it, doar lady. W hen I oame in your head had slid away down towards tbe arm of your chair, so that you must havo found it hard to get your breath." Morna nodded, and presently walked to a wiudow and looked outj 3be aßked herself --should she Bee the man ? Her hesitation was not long, however. She must see him at Eome time ; she might be obliged to see bim often. In fact, duty to hor father respect for her father's wishes - required that she should see hisa without delay. So she turned back, and said to tbe messenger:

" You may tell the gentleman that I wil' be with him shortly. I must look to my toilet before I go in ; so, If you will you may say to him that you lound me asleep. It will account for my delay."

The servant promised to do as she had been bidden, and went her way. Our hero ine went up to her dressing-room, where she bathed her face and smoothed out her tangled tresßes, after which she descended to the drawing-room, where she found the visitor seated by the centre-table with a book in bis hand.

" Door lady," he cried, as he arose, with deep concern in both tone and look, "had I known that you were resting, not even business of importance should have brought me to break the oharm. Yet, lam glad that I am permitted to see you ; and more glad than I can tell to see you looking so well."

Thuaspeaking,he advanced and extended his hand. There was a smile on his face— » pleasanter smilo than Morna had ever thought it could wear ; and, following the kindly prompting of her generous nature, she had given him her hand before she fully realis3d who it was that took it. She spoke a few words, gently and modestly—not implying that she was glad to see him, but. that, as her father's trusted friond and agent, he had tho right to her timo and at tention.

lie tlianked hor with a grace that might havo become-a princo ; and tbo smilo that lighted up his sombro features was ovon brighter and warmer than that with which he had first groetod her. Ho then pointed her to a soat; and when sho had takon it„ ho fnund a ohair for himself.

Whon Morno next looked up Bhe found the man's gaze fixed upon her with an intonslty that startled her; and beforo ho could change tho expression of his dark face, sho had caught a gleam from his oyes and a compression of the hard, wicked lips that drove all memory of his smiles from hor thoughtß for over. Never, never again was she to think of that face in con nection with anything approaching a warm or kindly smile. For what had ho como ? (To be. Continued.)

TWO KEYS: OR Margaret Houghton's Heroism

By MRS GEORGIE SHELDON,

iuthor of "Urownio'a Triumph." "Tho For-

aaken Brido," " Audrey's Recoinponsa," tic.

CHAPTER XLVI,

OKKBROSITY TO THE ERRING*. ' But my surname should bo Forest if I

am your eon, and my mother always gave her name as ' Mrs Dunbar,' " Louis said, as Mr Forest paused in his story.

" Truo ; but thero is a reason for that," replied Mr Forest, with a grave face.

" When I was in America I spent a day or two with my youngest sister ; she had had the ciro of my niothor during her laat ill ness, and the furniture belonging to her had been given to Augusta. Among other things thoro was a desk that bi-longod to my fathor. His papers had remained un touched in it ever since hia death, but alter my mother died my sister thought it foolish to keep them longer, and aftor looking them thoroughly over sho destroyed most of them. But among them sho catno across a scrap which sho thought might throw some light upon the fato of my wifo, and so she saved it in caao 1 should ever return Here it iV

Ho took a folded paper from h.'s poeke book and handed it to Louis :

On one sido there «a. como writing in a lady's delicate hand ; on tho other a few ines dashed off in a bold, running stylo.

Tho first proved to be a noto from Annie Forest, to hor husband's futhor, and written

a number of months after her husband's departure for the East. It stated tbat she had hoard nothing from him—that tho money ho had left her had all given out ; hnr hoalth KM vory delicate, and sho ap pealed to him for assistance until sho could receive news and a remittanco from his son.

It was a delicate appeal, delicately worded and very carefully written ; but it had not availed to move the hard heart of the stem, unrelenting man whosa authority had been defied, and he had evidently turned tho letter and dashed off on angry aud unfeeling reply, probably intending to send it back t. her in that way. He must, however, hivo thought best not to insult hor in that exact way, and probably copied his roply. upon anot'ior shoot.

" Madam," it ran. "my eon hns defied mo llis distirnced liiillßC-1' and his fan ib*. and 1 have forbidden him ever to return 10 us; there fore It Is not likely that I can havo much respect cr sympathy for tho woman who would con sent to m»rry him in tho fico ot hi. father's iixnrcss command to the contrary tf jou are, •j.l/i's Annie Forest.' please never flaunt it in my faci* a^al*. ; but if your ' himband *-co called-has playid you false, my advice would bo to bido yoursfilf and your sh-mo undor seme other Linne, and not still further disgrace hts relatives by claiming a tlo tho exl.tonco of which, pcrhapy, . oil havo no metins to prove "SamuulKohhst.'

" What a cruel letter !" Louis cried, in dignantly, whilo hia faco Huehed a hot, angry crimson. "It was a heartless reply to a sensitlvo girl like hor, ond it must havo boon tbo last blow to crush hej* heart," roturned Mr Forest, bitterly. " tsihe had, Indeed," he wont on, "no means of proving her marriage, for I had tho certificate in my own possession, never dreaming that any one would doubt the fact cf her being my wife ; whilo, porhaps, after all, in her lone liness and poverty, sho may have grown gradually to fear that I regretted the hasty steps, and had ' played hor false,' as my father hinted, and, acting upon tho sugges tion in his letter, she must have taken her maiden name, hidden herself in some ob scure locality, and lived out her sad life in silent suffering. No one can over know the pain this has caused me : I was nearly wild at firßt over it. My father is doad, and I would not traduce him, but if he was living I should demand a serious reckoning."

" Thia writing is like my mother's—it is like that which I have in the littlo book of which I spoke," Louis said, turning to the first half of the sheet, while his lips trembled witbemotiqn. " Another proof I" responded Mr Forest, adding: " And 1 have here in my hand the proof of my marriage with Annie Dun bar."

He pasEcd a small caso to Louis as be spoke, It was that mother-of-pearl case which we have already seen in Arthur Aspinwall's hands.

'Louis opened it, and found himself gazing down into the face of that exquisitely beautiful woman whom Arthur had at once recognised as belonging in aomo way to him, from the strong resemblance between thorn. It was, indeed, very muoh like tho por trait that he had seen at Versailles in _£a Petite Trainon, and he could not doubt that she was a descendant of the lovely ond noted Mllo. l.ouiso de Brienzo.

Those large liquid eyes, that white, shapely forehead, those sweet, sensitive lips, seemed very familiar to Louis as he looked, and he knew that it was, because his own fine face reflected something of this fairer loveliness.

Mr Forest reached forward and removed the velvet pad from tho other side of the case.

'I here was a folded paper underneath. " Take it out and read it," he said. Louis obeyed, and found it was the cer tificate of marriage before referred to, and that the date corresponded with that upon tho ring which he wore. "Yes, it must be true," he murmured, looking up and meeting the gaze of the ncble man beside him. " I believe that I am your son," A thrill of prido and affection shot through Louis's heart as their eyeß mot,and involuntarily he extended his hand.

Mr Forest grasped it eagerly. " If thoro is anything in tbe wide world that would help to heal tho wound that has rankled in my heart for so many years, the knowledge that you aro my son will do much toward it. Heaven bless you, my boy I" "What is this?" Louis asked, taking up and unfolding that little paper that con tained a curl of silken, nut-brown hair.

"It is a lock that 1 cut from your mother's hair the evening before I Bailed, and her own fingers coilod it and tied it with its knot of blue ribbon for me ; that other paper contains a little scrap of tho dress that ehe was married in—they, with the picture, are the most sacred treasures I possess." Louis handled them tenderly—they were sacred to him also ; while he was so grateful

for that picture, so glad he could know just how the young mother, for whom his heart had always yearned, had looked. How lovely she was, and how sad tho story of her brief life. " I wonder.Louis," Mr F. rest said,break ing iv upon this sad reverie, " how you havo ever attained to such a noble man hood with all the world against you, aa I know it was, at the outßet." Louis's eyes turned involuntarily toward his betrothed. " She has had much to do with whatever good there is in me," he said, a fond smile wreathing his lip.. Margaret coloured crimson at this tri bute. "Do not let him make you believe any such nonsense,"shereturned, trying to smile aa she wiped the tears from her cheeks. Sho had been deeply affected by the sorrow ful story that Mr Forest had related. " You may bo sure," she continued, "as I havo often told him, that the good was in him, and he had only to cultivate it to make it bear fruit abundantly."

" I feel assured oi that," Mr Forest answered, earnestly regarding the manly face beside him; " still I am not unmindful of the good influences that were thrown around him years ago ; nor of those which, I am proud to say, will grace his future life. 1 congratulate you both, my childron, and I trust that you will be willing to give mo a little corner in your hearts and your home."

Tears sprang into Louis's eyes to hoar this man plead so hungrily for the love which had been so long denied him, and his heart went out to him in a glad thrill of love and veneration.

He had admired him from the moment of their meeting, and now that it was proved that they belonged to each other, it Beamed almost the proudest, the grandest hour of his life.

Father I His childish lips had never been allowed to give utterance to the word, though his young heart had often rebelled at being so poverty-stricken in all that makes the life of little children happy.

Henceforth it would be a sacred word to him, ar.d almost unconsciously be looked up into his companion's face and spoke it aloud.

Tho strong man nearly broke down as ho heard it, while he reached forth and grasped Louis's hand again almost con vulsively.

Mr Houghton turned to the window to hido his emotion, whilo Margaret and hor mother were forced to use their handker chiefs anew.

But Mr Forest soon regained command of himsolf.

"Timo is passing," ho said, with a glance at Arthur, " and aB he has decided to leave Paris to night on tho midnight express for Havre, ho must be on the move. But I fool, Louie, that some acknowledgment is due you in his presence for tho noble part you took towards obtaining his release." Louis flushed, but he answered, quietly : " I boar him no malice ; of course I feel the wrong, but I have no desire to take any revongo for it, and I am greatly relieved that wo succeeded in Btaying proceedings against him. I know be olwayß disliked me as a boy—why, I cannot conceive ; but I suppose his enmity of late has beon oc casioned by my being tho cause of a deep disappointment to him," and again hia gaze wandered to Margaret. " Not wholly," Arthur answered, raising his head, and meeting his eye for the first timo sinco entering the room, "though I confess I did deeply hate you for supplant ing mo in Margie's affections. But I may as well out with tho wholo. I havo always been jealous of you • whon I first met you I recognised in you a strong character- I recognised your superiority, and it galled and angered mo ; that alone is the secret of my early dislike of you. Since coming to Paris I discovered, as my uncle has sur mised, that you were his son, and I knew woll enough that your mutual odmirotion would eventually load you to make the dis covery also. Iv that case, instead of in heriting his handsome fortune, you, whom I bad tilways hated, would get all his money. I might succeed in winning all that 1 desired," with a glance at Margoret. " I meant to keep you locked up, as I said beforo, until you would consent to leave the country, and that failing I should put you in some private mad house where you would bo safely out of my way for evor."

" What a wretch I " murmured Margaret with whito lips " You are even worse than I believed," said Mr Forest, Bternly.

" I make this confession, not because I am reckless or defiant," Arthur pursued, humbly, *' but that you may know just how I have stood ; it is a part of my punish ment. I know that I havo been wilful and selll-b all my life ; if adversity has served to make Louis Dunbar a strong, true man, prosperity and unlimited indulgence have been my ruin. I can see it now when it iB too lato. lam not, however, ungrateful for what you havo done to-day to save me from a felon's doom, although any such ex pressions might seom forced and hypocritical in connection with tho confoßeione tha. I havo just mado ; but if I should never see any of you again I would like you to remember that I was not so hardened that I could not bo grateful or would not soy that lam sorry." no looked up appealingly to Louis as he Boid this, Louis bowed with a troubled face, and then all at onco ho turned his frank gaze upon Arthur. " I rogrot the past moro than ever now," he said ; " since this recent discovery makes us relativos. I wish that we could have boon friends; then our future relations might have been so pleasant." "That sounds very kind," Arthur retor ted, bitterly, " but I can hardly believe that the son and heir of the wealthy Albort Forest would be willing to share his good fortune with a penniless relative ; surely you and I have exchanged places very strangely." "You wrong mo if you think that I would grudgo you any good which my fathor might choose to bestow upon you," Louis replied, earnestly, "and—and — pardon mo," turning with an embarrassed air to his father, "how wid be be provided for in tho future?"

Arthur started from hia chair, muttering something inaudible, and hastily quitted the room.

Mr Forest thought a moment before re plying to Louis's question. "Before my suspicions regarding you were proved to bo correct," he at length said, " t had hoped to induce him, upon re turning to America with me, to enter upon somo regular business or profession, and if he showed himself worthy, I should have undoubtedly made him my heir upon my death. Of course, all that will be changed now, and to day, when I dis covered the extent of hia crimes, I felt that no penalty, however severe, would bo too bad for him But he is the son of Gertrude, my favourite Bister. I know he has nothing ; that ho is deeply in debt here in Paris, and I am afraid he is not likely to do much for himself in the way of earning a living. I cannot bear that he should suffer. What do you advise me to do for him ?"

"I do not feel that I am competent to advise," Louis returned, more embarrassed than before. "Of course I knoiy nothing regarding your resources, and it tyoujd be very presumptuous in me to tell you what to do." Mr Forest Broiled. "You may call me a millionaire! you will not rate me too high then," he said, smiling. "Now, I will fill Arthur out a cheque for whatever amount you say." " I would rather not, sir," objected Louia, with heightening colour. " My son, all that I have is yours from this time forth," said Mr Forest, and drawing from his pocket a cheque-book upon the Bank of England, together with a stylographic hand, he laid them both in Louis's hands.

" Now what would you do if you were worth that Bum and in my place ?" he asked. " Write the amount upon one of these slips, and let me see it."

Louis saw he was in earnest, and he could not refuse to comply with his re quest. He took the book, wrote something upon one of tbe cheques, and then paaaed it back to his father, saying : " That will give him a start in life il he is dianoaed to uso it rightly ; if not, you certainly need not be troubled with re morse for not having done your duty to ward bim."

Mr Forest read the amount—it was for ton thousand dollars—and smiled a pleased assent.

Then tearing the cheque from tho book, he signed it, after which ho excused him self, and followed his nophew from the room. (To be Continued.)

How We May Telegraph to the Moon.

Some fifty years ago, the astronomer, J. de Littrow, Director of the Vienna Observa tory, started the idea of establishing^ tele scopic communication with the inhabitants of the moon. A triangle described on the surface of tho moon by three luminous lines each of twelve or fifteen miles in length would be visible from this earth by tho aid of our telescopes. We observe de tails even much smaller than this, for ex ample the peculiar topographical designs seen in the circle on the surface of the moon to which the name of "Plato" has been given. A triangle, then, a square, or a circle, ot such dimensions, constructed by us on some vast plain, by means of luminous points reflecting the solar light by day, and aided by electric light at night, would be visible to the astronomers in the moon—if those astronomers exist and have optical instruments equal to our own. The result of this reasoning is simple in the extreme. If we were to observe on the surface of the moon a triangle correctly described, we should bo" somewhat puzzled. We should think our sight deceived us. We should ask ourselves whether perchance it wero possible that geological changes could have given birth to a regular geo metrical fieure. No doubt we should end by admitting thi3 as an exceptional possi bility. But if, all at once, we Baw this tri angle changed into a square, and, some months later, replaced by a circle, then we should logically allow that an intelligent effect proves an intelligent cause, and we should with reason belie ye that such- figures reveal, beyond doubt, tho existence of geo meters in that neighbouring world. Thence it would bo but a Binglo step, very easily made, to inquire the raison d'etre oi such marks on the moon's surface, and to ask why and to what end our un known brethren formed those figures. Could it be with the idea of entering into relations with ourselveß? The hypothesis is not preposterous-. It may be put forth and discussed, rejected as dogmatic, or de fended as ingenious. Why, after all, should not the inhabitants of the moon be more curious than ourselves, more in telligent, more elevated in their aspir ations, less entangled than ourselves in the alime of materialism? Why should they not have supposed that the earth might be inhabited like their world; and why should not those geometrical tests be applied to ascertain the fact of our exis tence ? If so, it would not be difficult for us to answer them. They Bhow ua a tri angle 1 let us reproduce it here. They trace a circle ; let us imitate that. There at once would bo communication es tablished between heaven and earth for the first time since tho beginning of the world. ....

Geometry is the same for the inhabitants of all worlds ; two aud two make four in all the regions of infinity, and everywhere the three angles of a triangle are equal to two right angles. The signals, therefore, ex changed in this way between the earth end the moon would not involve even so much obscurity as the hieroglyphics deciphered by Champollion, and the communication once established would soon become regu lar and productive of results. Moreover, the moon is not so far off from ua. Her dis tance of 96,000 leagues is only equal to thirty times the diameter of the earth, and many country postmen have gone over as much ground on foot in the course of their lives. A telegram would get there in a second and a quarter, and light takes no more time to accomplish tho distance. Tho moon is a celestial province annexed to ns by nature herself. Up to the present time we have observed nothing on the moon's surface which can warrant ua in suspecting the existence of an intelligent human race inhabiting that little celestial islet. Yet astronomers who speci ally watch our satellite, attentively and per eeveringly studying hor peculiar aspects, are generally of opinion that this star is not so dead as she seems to be. We must not forgot that in the present state of optical science it is difficult to apply practically to the study of the moon a magnifying power of more than 2,000. To see this orb two thousand times nearer than she is in the heavens is only to bring her within forty-eight loagueß. And what can we dis tinguish at a distance of a hundred and forty-four miles ? An army on the march ? A lar^e city! Porhaps; but it is very doubtful.

What we know for certain is that puzz ling changes do actually take place on the nroon's Burface, especially in the arena of II tTbo Oir-li •< tll.la " wko-oof mo opnlra above. What is also certain is that the lunar oib, forty-nine timeß smaller than the earth, and eighty-one times less heavy, ex erts on its surface a gravity of only one-sixth the power which exists on the surface of our planet, so that an atmosphere analo gous to that which we breathe would be six times more rarefied and difficult to perceive from the earth. There is nothing sur prising, then, in the fact that this neigh bouring world differs so much from ours. Moreover, when viewed from a balloon at a height of only four or five thousand yards, the earth appears desert, uninhabited, silent as a vast cemetery, and anybody who came from the moon in a balloon might inquire, even at that minute distance, whether there were any people in France or any noiße in Paris. Tha oold and dead aspect of our pale satellite offered little encouragement for realising the original project of tho astrono mer, J. do Littrow, and-soon forgetting our adjacent province, the imagination of cer tain astronomers ventured to soar even to the planet of Mars, which never approaches nearer to us than fourteen million leagues, but which is the best known of all the heavenly orbs, and which presents so many points of resemblanoa to our planet that we should scaroely fnel otherwise than at home if wo transported thither our household gods. The appearance of Mars, in fact, somewhat compensates ub for that of tbe moon. We can, indeed, believe ourselves in some terrestrial region. Continents, seas, islands, shores, peninsulas, capsa, gulfs, waters, clouds, rains, inundations, springs and autumns, days and nights, mornings and evenings,— all are found nearly the same as with us. The years are longer, since they last for six hundred and eighty-seven days, but the effect of the seasons is exactly the same as here, the inclination of the axis being the same as ours. The days there are also a little longer since the diurnal revolution of that world takes twenty-four hours thirty seven minutes twenty-three seconds; b\it, as we see, tbo difference is not great. And notice that all this is precisely known ; this diurnal rotation, for instance, is fixed to tho tenth part of a second I

When, during the beautiful starry nights, we examine that world by the aid of the telescope, when we see thoße polar snows which melt in springtide, those continents so sharply defined, those inland seas with their long gulfs, that geographical outline so suggestive and ao varied, we cannot help asking ourselves whether the sun which shines on that world, as on ours, lights up nothing living ; whether those rains fertilise nothing; whether that atmOßphere is breathed by no being,and whether that worldof Mars which rolls swiftly through space is like a railway train which speeds along empty,. without passengers or goods. The notion that the world whereon we live could proceed as it does round the sun without being inhabited by any creature whatsoever, appears so inconsistent that it is difficult to entertain it. By what permanent miracle of sterility should the forooß of nature, which act there as they do here, remain eternally inactive and unproductive ?

They havo just finished, in the United States, the most powerful telescope that has ever been constructed. It measures almost a m-tro in diameter, and twenty metres in length. One of the earliest applications will be to point it towards this neigh bouring world, which is still a riddle to us, and to endeavour to under stand the remarkable features pre sented in its gooeraphy. Next to steam, the telegraph, the electric light, and the telephone, would not the discovery of in dubitable evidence as to the existence of a humanity inhabiting another region of our solar archipelago be the most marvellous apotheosis of scientific glory in the Nine teenth .Century»

How a Company is Promoted

A financial agent conceives the idea that a tramcar company started in Patagonia would pay. He does not mean, nor has he the remotest idea, that he or anyone else will see tramcars in that land ; no, but he thinks if such a scheme is started on paper, and the wires well and cleverly pulled in this metropolis, the undertaking will pay those who have the eourage;andJpertinacity to work it, and that, no matter who loses by it, he himßelf will not do so. His first 1 care is to find one of those ready writers who are able by their pens to prove almost anything. For a five-pound note, which is to be refunded out of tbo first money paid on application for shares, the work is undertaken, the prospec us is drawn out, and, as a specimen of proving with pen and ink what the writer knows nothing about, it is certainly a remarkable document. The next step is to get six or seven gentlemen to act aa chairman and directors of the company. These individual,, who in joint-stock company are desig nated " guinea-pigs," are not difficult to find; but a wise promoter does not take every-one who offers, for it:iis upon the names of these personages that the success, or otherwise, of the concern mainly depends. The long-suffering, ever-ready to-be-takon-in public has a great respect for titles and ranks ; and a real nobleman as chairman goes a long way with thorn. Io fact, the greater number of those who apply for shares in new companies do so on the faith of the names of the chairman and directors. They do not inquire whether these gentlemen have any experience in business matters, or whether they know any thing of the special work for which the com pany is got'together. Any-one with a title or a handle to his name will inspire more confidence in the class of people who become shareholders than would tbe name of the Director of the Bank of England. The board having been got together, and their names in the pro spectus, the next step is to publish the document in all or most of the leading London newspapers. This is an expensive piece of work, and especially hard for the promoter, who rarely has a shilling for bis own. But what will not the hopo of profit accomplish ? An advertising agent is found who will take the matter in hand, and will pay the expenses of advertising, large as they are, on condition of receiving a fifty or sixty per cent, bonus out of the first money the promoter can command. Here, then, the company is fairly launched so far as to make a show before the uninitiated public. Real bona fide City men know perfectly well what value to put upon the whole affair, but it is not for their acceptance that the dainty financial dish has been prepared. It is to the gullibility of the public at large that the document ap peals. Let us suppose that the capital required for the concern is £150,000 in shares of £1 each. Matters are made all the more pleasant and easy for the expected victims by tbe announcement that do more than five shillings is required for each share on application, and a similar sum on allot ment ; aud that the balance will not be re quired for six months, and even then by in stalments of only five shillings each. In this arrangement the promoter shows his wisdom. The share-taking public will al ways prefer companies that are supposed to have a large capital; and if those who join the concern are allowed to pay their contri butions by small instalments, so much the better

Another thing likely to ensure success is to give out that no applications for shares will be received after a certain date. Ths outside public reading this are convinced that the shares are selling rapidly, and that they had better follow the prudent example set them. In the mean time the oracle is worked in certain papers by means only known to the initiated, and the publio is made to believe that shares will soon be at a premium. The Board meet every three or four days, and learn from the promoter that things are going on bo well that they could hardly be better. The result of all this is that a certain number of shares are really applied for, and the deposit of five shillings paid on each, so that there areatany rate funds enough in hand for the promoter to pay whatever is owing in the shape of expenses, and to give the chairman and directors the fees which they have earned. After a few weeks of this sailing in calm waters there comes a change, The shares are no longer in demand. A shareholder— who is in most cases a creature of the promoter, though not known to bo such— petitions the courts that the company be wound up. A solicitor and a liquidator are put in to see that; an goes rignt, „_ _~- „«_„ words to make pleasant for themselves and the promoter. The Bharholders find them selves obliged to pay up the whole £1 value on each share. The whole affair dies a natural death, and is very soon forgotten, except by the unfortunate shareholders who have been fleeced.

The promoter and his friends have not lost anything, they have gained something — not much perhaps, but in any case a few hundreds. Just enough to encourage them for next timo. The chances are that the promoter will, within a few months, or even weeks, build and launch another financial ship, whioh is pretty certain to come to the same end. But what of that? If some win, others must lose; and the latter must feel thankful that they have at least learned a practical lesson which they will not quickly forget. —' Gentleman's Magazine."

"FAITH HEALING" EXTRAOR DINARY.

An Australian Implicates.,

On 15th January the Brighton (England) magistrates were occupied for a consider able time in hearing a summons charging two local tradesmen, named Barker and Hughes, with disturbing a religious service at an assembly hall in Edward street. The case created great interest, in consequence of disturbances which have lately taken place at the hall, where it is stated most extraordinary scenes are witnessed. The allegation against the defendants was that on the evening of the 4th January they forced their way into the hall, followed by a large crowd, and created a disturbance. Evidence in support of this was given by a Mr Baddeley. In cross-examination, witness said the disturbances had not been caused by indecent behaviour of the women, and Btated they occasionally fell down under the power and Spirit of God against their will; sometimes they lay down half an hour and sometimes three hours under the Spirit of God. It was not a fact that they lay with their legs exposed. Lately rugs and wraps had been brought in to avoid any sugges tions of indeoency. Of course, there was a liability to limbs being exposed. Witness was asked, " Do they occasionally dance at the hall?" and replied, "You can call it 'dance' if you like.' "What do you call it ?" " Perhaps it would be difficult to des cribe. God put these women under a epell." Mr Wood, the leader, and who lately come from South Australia, was sometimes called "Ring Solomon." Witness admitted there was a room under the plat form oalled the " Glory Hole." People went to the hall for cleansing, healing and forgiveness. He had never seen any heal ing business going on, nor seen Mr Wood attempt to hoal people. When he put his hands on people he aßkod them to look to the Lord only for healing. John Chat ffeld, who lives with his wife and family at a house attached to the hall, denied that anything indecent took place. Cross examined :He was called "King David," his wife "Rebecca," and his children "Samuel," "Peace," and "Love." He had seen women and children dancing. They were not under the influenM of a epell. He called it the power of God. On one ocoasion a girl was under power and i remained till 3 o'clock in the morning. He knew Mrs Walder was kept at the home for a fortnight against the will of her hus band. Mr Buckwell, for complainant, said this was not an action for imprisonment. Mr Nye, for the defence, said people were got to the home and mesmerised, or'some thing of the sort, and kept there to aot as mediums. He had people present who had been so kept. The stipendiary said even if this were so he did not think Mr Nye was taking the proper course. Mr Nye said it was a surprise these proceedings had been allowed to go on so long. He would show how the defendants went with the best motives. Examination continued: Mrß Walder stayedatthe house aboutaweek, She was not under a Bpell. During the time she was there her husband came. He did not refuse to let her go. The mon Walder was not under a spell, but under the power of God. Mr Threadgold was there, and was called " Caleb." When the defendants gained admissioa he said something to the effect that the meeting was to bo closed, as the dovil was in the room. He did say the devil was in the room, and bo he was. Witness, continuing, said he had not had the burial service read over him. He got bis new name straight from God himself, through Christ. The stipendiary called attention as to the relevancy of this evidence. Mr Nye said, he could I prove " King Solomon" read the I burial service over the people whilst

I they had an iron bar round their I necks. Witness, continuing, said they did not take the jewellery from people who at- I tended the meeting, but people had given lit up. He had taken some of these to pawnbrokers and some to another shop. Hs gave his services.—How do you live 1 The Lord keeps me. William Tbreadgold. miller, of Toiri, near Maidstone, one of the trustees of the hall, said the building was registered as a place of worship, and waa used by the army of the Lord. Cross examined : Thetrustees were Mr Wood, Mita Webb, and himself. It was not true thatMUs Webb was kept at tbe place against her will. She purchased the hall for £2,000 odd, and gave it to Mr Wood. Misa Webb's friends, however, objected to it being given to Mr Wood alone, and it was settled in the names of three trustees. This closed the case for the complainantt. - Alphonse 1 Lukowski, called for the defence, stated that he went to one meeting when he saw three girls dancing and fall down several times. Their clothes were disar ranged very much when they fell, and their legs were showing. He denied that Barker created a disturbance, Similar evidence was given by William Wood, and Henry Bullard, farmer, stated he took two Christian ladies to see what some who pro fessed to be Christians were doing. Thede fondants wero committed for trial at the quarter sessions, bail being accepted, them selves in £100 each, and two securities cf £50.

A CURIOSITY OF COMMERCE.

African SavagOß Wlto Come to the

Shore to Traffic.

Along tbe northeast coast of Africa, south of Cape Guardaf ul, there are no towns worth mentioning for some hundreds of miles. The Somali natives who live along the ooaßt have had scarcely any dealings with white traders. A little while ago a smart firm in Aden made up their minds that by maintaining regular communications with this coast they would be able to work up a good trade. They therefore bought a steamer and sent their agents along to tell the natives that at certain times, if they would look out on the sea, they would see a steamer coming, laden with beautiful goods to give them in exchange for hides, palm soil and the other products of the Somil region.

The little vessel has now made several trips, and the experiment has proved a great success. Knowing that they may expect tbe steamer at the date' fixed, the natives from many miles in the interior flock to the shore at Ihe different points where the vessel stops. A large crowd well burdened with objects of exchange await the steamer, which anohors off the coast while trading boats put ashore, and a lively market is soon in progress where a few hours before nothing oould be seen but the .wide-stretching sands tbat border thia coast.

The goods that are most in demand among these new customers of the whites are Venetian glassware and Amerioan cotton shirtings. They drive very fair bargains, and it is noteworthy that the poor stuffs they bought at first they now discard for better goods. The same keen ness has been observed among other African natives. The Congo tribes, for instance, will not touch now tbe poor jackknives and flimsy cottons they were greedy for a few years ago. The grades of goods that the Congo State now takes to Africa for bartering purposes along the river, cost, on an average, from sixty to a hundred per cent, more than the goods that were sold to the natives six or seven years ago,

Slang: Its Use and Abuse.

There is little hope that the writer in the . "St. James's Gazette," who was protesting the other day against the use of cricket slang, will be gratified byg-eeing the disap pearance of a habit that has taken a firm hold on those concerned, notwithstanding his emphatic declaration that "slang in boys, and men, too, should be looked upon as a modified form of swearing." There can, ef course, be no doubt that cricket reporters- teem _witar-iang-e-_>reß»iuu_i. _x~ there are two ways of stating a plain fact, one in common English and the other in some more or less fancy phraseology, the cricket reporter will generally choose* the latter. The wickets become the "sticks," the ball is " the leather," two runs are " a brace," and so on with almost everything connected with tho game, whilst th_e report will abound with expressions which are simply unintelligible to people who are not thoroughly familiar with the game. But that is just tho point. These reports are written for persons who understand cricket, and to most of them the expressions in question, however closely they may border on slang, are as clear as AB C to ordinary readers. Not only this, but it would often be difficult to describe the game without a reßort to such phrase ology as that against which the correspon dent of the " St James's Gazette " enters hia protest—although, of course, a good deal of it might be avoided. Tho" cricket re- Eorter knows the class of people for whom, c writes, and belioves that what he says will be not only understood bnt appre ciated by those whose interest he keeps mainly in view. He cares nothing at all for those who have so little knowledge of the game that they would not be able to make out what he says, even if they went to the trouble of looking through it, which he considers very doubtful. The same sort of thing is found in football, as well. An elaborate football report. ' by a writer who flatters himself that he has a good descriptive style, and wants to show it off, is little better, than Chinese to those who know nothing about the game; but here, again, it is perfectly intelligible to tW.se for whom it is really written. The. fact Is that every sport, game, or recreation has a phraseology of its own, and the same may be said of art, music, trades, industries, and the various classes of society generally, ln every instance more or less slang is in übo either because oi. habit or because the phrases madeuae of really express in tho readiest manner the particular idea that a person wishes to convey. Not only could ; racing men make np a slang dictionary of their own, but the more highly refined artist or art critic has his slang phrases which would almost pass the comprehension of persons not familiar with the mysteries of the artistic circle; Let the non-sporting artist and the non-artistic ', racing mail talk to one another each in his most idiomatic style about.what interests him' most, and it is just a question as to which of the two would be the mora ' incomprehensible to the other. Mem bers of Parliament have a slang of their . own, and commercial travellers use among themselves, or in talking of business matters, phrases that other people would be puzzled over. Legal documents ara notorious for what is really, nothing less than lawyer' slang, and one expects to find it there just aa readily as one finds slang in cricket and football reports. The lawyers, like tbe sporting reporters, could no doubt, if they thought fit, use language which would be more intelligible to tha, world at large, bnt they prefer their own style, "Society" talk Is full of slang, for. such expressions aa" " awfully jolly " are aa much slang aa any thing tbat is heard among the lowest ; classes. Newspaper men generally are, too, just as bad as other people, j Tha leader writer has his stook of classical or foreign quotations, whioh are really editorial slang, though more elegant in style than what ordinarily passes under that title. The "descriptive writer" is an even worse offender, and the ( reporter helps him to . make the newspaper reader still more familiar with hackneyed ,' expressions, and to transform simple words into long and imposing ones. In a cricket report one expects to read that " So-and-so snicked Somebody through the slips for » brace;" but just in the same, way one may almost take it for granted that " coign of vantage " or " _ea of upturned faces '* will be brought somewhere or other into a de- • scriptive report of a great public assem blage ; whilst it tea matter of course to I find from ordinary reports that an accident jis a " catastrophe j" a fire a "conflagra-' 'tion;" the flames "devouring element:"' and so on. In the same way people who write to the newspapers generally begin by asking for " a few lines in your influential journal,'' and will wind up by , saying tbat they "will not trespass further oa' your, valuable space." This te slang, to all intents and purposes, just as much aa the expressions made use of by cricketer* and their critics; so that, altogether* if anybody should propose to stark. a campaign for the purpose of converting: everybody to the use of perfectly pure-, plain, and matter-of-fact English, he wllfe have a gigantic task before him/"" '

THE AUCKLAND EVENING STAR, SATURDAY, MARCH 28, 1887.

3



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