BETWEEN THE LIGHTS.

BY MRS NEWMAN,

Author of

"With Costs," "The Last of the Haddons," "Too Late," &c.

(Conclvdid.)

I SAW that my chance was gone, and rushed out, this time bending my stops towards the saloon again* Elinor and her husband, with their two children and an ayah, were now its only occupants. I moved swiftly to her side. ' Danger !'

1 How stupid sho is !' she murmured, glancing impatiently towards the ayah- One of the children commenced, crying 'Cannot you try something besides that eternal crooning, Secma? Take them to the cabin, and get them to sleep there.' Tlie woman rose from tho floor, where she had been sitting, coaxed the elder child to accompany her, and, with the younger cradled in her arms, went out. , ' Dhildren are a terrible trial to one's nerves,' went on Elinor, settling her self more comfortably in the couch again. I was so much struck by the tones of her voice and the expression of her face as for tho moment to be in capable of uttering another word. It was the first time I had seen her look aud heard her speak in that way. 1 You take care that they shall not try yours,' he replied. ' That is so like a man ! Men are ! so selfish. But one thing is quite cer tain, I shall not bo able to do without another nurse, Reginald, and I think it would be more comfortable if —' ' You are for ever studying what would be most comfortable I wish you would try to understand that wo are not rich enough for you to indulge in your whims.' ' I am not likely to forget what I am bo constantly reminded of. You, too, might allow for something, I think You forget that but for you I might have been rich enough to gratify all my whims as you term them.' 'Not quite all. The wealth of a hundred millionaires would hardly com pass that ; and, unfortunately, you per suaded me that you preferred love to riches. 1 did not then know that I owed my felicity to your quarrel with your mother, and wish to disappoint her of a home.'

And this was the woman I had loved! This—no a thousand times. Faith in the existence of truth and purity might still be possible. But all this had flashed through my mind quicker than it has taken to write it. 'Danger! Fire!' I exclaimed, im patiently laying my. hand upon her arm. She was no more to me now than any other that was in danger. She languidly turned over the leaves of the yellow paper covered book in her hand. ' How completely the white muslin and rose heroines seem to have gone out! They are till dressed by Worth, now. I shall want heaps and heaps of, new things when I arrive.' Hopeless I turned away, moving to wards her husband. 'Fire!' He turned restlessly in his seat. 'It's frightfully hot!' ' Fire!' 'You are always hotter than other people, Reginald. It is because you fidget so much.' With a muttered oath he rose, stretched himself, and walked out of the saloon. Was there! none I could warn 1 What was it that prevented me from making myself understood % Had the shock rendered me dumb as well as powerless to use my physical strength 1 A terrible fear was creeping upon me that my first wild desire for revenge was about'to bo granted. I ran back to the-deck again. . The Captain ! As fast as my feet could carry me, I hastened across to Where he was stand ing. 'For heaven's, sake listen—try to understand me. You can avert a terrible calamity.' He half turned towards mo, then with; grave uneasy eyes scanned the sea and sky, as he murmured—'There must be danger lurking!near, I fancy, to make me feel like this.; But where— where V 'In one of the cabins. Como ; for the sake of the passengers and crew— come!' As one in a dream, lie took a few steps by my side. Suddenly, an arm was thrust under his, and a loud cheery voice said— 'Now, if you can give me five mintit.es to go over the question again, I think I shall be able to convince you.' The same man that he had been previously in conversation with, and evidently eager to recommence the discussion. The Captain thrust his hand through his hair as though to awaken himself, and turne:! with a good-natured but slightly abstracted air to pace the deck by the other. My opportunity—if opportunity it had b een —was gone, and almost despairing I turned away. . ' .. Two ladies had approached and'were standing very near to me, one middle aged and the other, to judge by her figure, her face being turned from me, quite young. 'I think you must allow I have acted handsomely in the matter, Miss Lang leigh. You will not, lam sure, rate your services as more than equivalent to the passage money V 'No,' in a low, clear, melodious VOice. • '.., -j '/■;>;, v.'-i vi■""!

'And you quite understand that the arrangement terminates when we arrive at Southampton V ' , ;, 7.

'Yes.'

' I land there. Friends will. be. wait ing to receive me, and it might not look well for you to remain after I had left.' 'I do not see that, but I intend landing at Southampton, Mrs Reid.' 'And—oh, yes—if it would beot use to you, I should be happy to give you a charac—testimonial as to your propriety of behaviour, good temper, and all that sort of thing, you know.'

'Thankyou; it might bo of great

use.' 'Your health, too—very few com panions arc able to read so many hours at a time, and make themselves so generally useful as you have dono, es pecially after residing for any length of time in India. You have been quite a maid as well as companion to me, really, and if I had not so many nieces

' I have done what I could,' simply replied the girl. ' Fire !' I whispered to the elder woman, as she turned away with a satisßed air. llt is hot even for August,'sho said, fanning her heated face as sho walked away. I moved towards the young girl. She had turned away, and was leaning her elbows on the bulwarks, her chin between her hands, and her eyes upturned to the stars. Something—l thought then it was her beauty, and I think so still, although it is not of the kind to win general admiration—at tracted me. I gazed for a moment at the soft, wistful brown eyes and beauti fully curved mouth, and knew that her voice had not misled me.

' She did not guess,' she murmured to the stars. ' The work is nothing no kind of work will seem hard if I can only go on believing; and thero is Arthur left me.'

1 was standing by her side. Tins last clianco seemed the host one, if I could only mako myself understood How best might she be touched 1 'You are in danger'

Not through her fears for herself, it seemed. She did not lower her eyes, and there was still the pathetic little smilo upon her lips as she repeated, ' There is Arthur.'

'All on board arc in danger, and you can help to save them,' ' Danger !' turning her oyes quickly and inquiringly to meet mine. The iirst 1 had spoken to, who had taken the slightest heed of me or my words of warning. ' How aro they in danger, and what can I do V

'There is a fire smouldering in one of tho cabins. No oue is awaro of it but myself, and it may burst out at any moment.' 'You cannot stifle it without help, and are afraid of creating a panic !' she ejaculated, at onco taking that to be tho natural explanation of my ap pealing to her. ' If 1 can help you you may trust to my nerve.' Yes, I could sec that. Every lino in her faco showed that she was accus tomed to tho exercise of self-control.

' Where V ' I will show you."

I She walked quickly by my side towards the cabin, stripping the lace ruffles from her wrists as she went. ' Miss Langlcigh, I have been look ing for you. Wo want you to sing ' Tho Shadowless Shore' just once more, please,' said ayoung girl emerging from one of tho cabins. • My heart stood still. 'It is in Mrs Eeed's -cabin. If you will aslc her for it, I will come to you,' sho replied, passing quickly on. Without further interruption we reached the cabin. Not a moment too soon ! A tongue of flame darted out from among the clothes as we entered. She turned to closo the door; then, with a white, set face walked up to the danger. The greatest danger to her self was, I saw, in the thin muslin dress sho wore. She must have re cognised that, too, for she stripped the treacherous, covering from her arms, caught back her skirts, and bent for ward as much as possible as she drew nearer the berth. Did I help her 1 I seemed to my self, and I think to her, to do so. But it was her hands that were injured, not mine, as we crushed the burning clothes together, although she uttered no word, until she had made all safe by throwing the water in the ewer upon the smoking heap. . , , 'Thank God.' 1 Your hands are injured.' ' It is nothing,' she whispered with a smile upon her white lips. ' I think we may open the door now.' As she threw ir open, she swayed a little, catching at the side.

I rushed out to obtain assistance for her; but the reaction frqm. the excite ment I had undergone had set in, for I too felt as if I were falling, and sup pose I lost consciousness. Bnt I must in some way have con trived to leave the.ship, for, when I again recovered consciousness, I found myself in the boat again, I was

mentally and physically exhausted, and lay still, letting the boat drift back ■with the tide towards the little cove, without taking tho usual precautions for landing. But help was at hand. I know now that it was not the first time old Martin had followed me about at night, anxiously watching my movements from a short distance. I uttered an ejaculation — not of surprise, my powers in that way had been pretty well used up—but of welcome. ' Mar tin !'

'All right, sir. Now the next wave,' throwing tho rope ho held to wards mo. I managed to catch it, and the next moment stood, though not very firmly, on tho beach by his side. ' Steady, sir, steady ! You've been out too long, Master Everard; but just take a sup of this, and it'll soon set you up'—producing a small flask. I folt wonderfully refreshed after the ' sup.' 1 Have I been out long V I asked, a littlo confusedly, ' 'Tis getting for dawn, sir.' Dawn ! I had left the ship before the passengers had retired for the night. 1 turned my eyes towards the east. Yes, there were the first streaks of day light, sure enough. But where was the ship? ' Where is it V I ejaculated, gazing blankly across the bay, where not so much as a small boat was to be seen.

' What ? Have you lost anything, Master Everard ?'

'The ship !' ' Ship, 1 he echoed. ' I haven't seen no ship.' 'But it was there. The Mercury, homeward bound from India.'

He shook his head, then presently said, as though addressing a wilful child that required humouring—

1 Oh, very like. It's none so uncom mon to see a ship in the bay. I've

only been here an hour or two. Of

course it was there, if you saw it. There ain't no phantom ships in these days.' He had made the boat secure, and wo turned to walk up the steep. ' Phantom ships !' My pulses stood still for a moment. There were phan tom thoughts, and ; but I thrust the horrible fear away. I should find it at Southampton— o( conrso, I should find it there. Had they not said it would touch at Southampton? Come what might, phantom or no phantom, I must follow that ship.

Martin was casting surreptitious glances towards me ; still, rather anx ious, I think. 'Took a nap in the bay, I expect, Master Everard 1' he presently ventured, as a respectful way of telling me 1 had been dreaming. ' Time passes wonderfully quick when you are asleep.' ' When does tlm first morning train leave for Southampton, Martin V

1 First train for Southampton V he repeated, gazing at me in open amaze ment now/ It was indeed so long since I had asked a question about anything outside tho park gates that he had good grounds for astonishment. As if-afraid of showing too plainly what was in his thoughts, he added—

1 Well, there's the early train at six o'clock.'

'I must catch that,' Recollecting that tho stables were empty, that it was between eight and nine miles to Fulton, and that 1 might not have time to walk, I said, ' Can you get mo some kind of conveyance V

Poor old Martin! It had come upon him so suddenly, and ho was so unprepared. He stopped, eyeing me anxiously as he asked, 'Is there any thing tho matter ; do you feel all right, sir V

I saw what he was afraid of. My eccentric habits had given rise to a great deal of speculation, and he had probably heard my sanity questioned. I smiled, laying my hand upon his shoulder. '1 am better than I have been for many a long day, Martin.' He regarded mo fixedly for a few moments, then turned away, passing the back of his band over his eyes. ' Thank God for his mercies!'

I could heartily echo that; but, feel ing hardly strong enough for anything in the way of explanation as yet, I said—

1 About a conveyance 1 Can you manage it, Martin V 'No fear about that. There's the post cart passes the lodge gates a little before five; or, if you think there's time, I could go '

' No, the post cart, of course. We will get back to tho house as quickly as possible, and you can tell your wife to get me some breakfast before we start.' I could even think of the necessity for fortifying myself for the

journey. ' She'll have it ready in no time, nevef you fear, sir,' br;skly.

' Married nearly thirty years haven't you been, Martin V 1 Nigher upon forty. Master Everard.' ' And never regretted it, eh V

' Not mo ! "-. Why, where should Ibe without the old woman V hobbling by my side as fast as his stiff joints would let him.

'We must try what can be done with that rheumatism of yours—haul you off to Vichy, if nothing else will do, Martin.'

'Lord, Lord 1' I heard him ejaculate under his breath, eyeing me somewhat anxiously again, as though still rather afraid to trust to tho evidence of his senses, although he was gaining con fidence at every step.

Unconsciously I was giving him proof that I was clothed and in my right mind in the renewed interest I was evincing in him and his affairs. A hot flush covered my face as I recol lected that I had not noticed this ail ment of his,or given a thought to any one's trouble but my own for nearly four years. But there was a lifetime before me, and I was too,eager to carry out my plans for the future to dwell upon the past

As soou a3 fb reached the house

Martin and his wife set to work with a will; and, after a hearty breakfast, he and I sallied forth for the lodge gates, where we waited for the post cart. When it presently came up I had not much difficulty in persuading the man to give mo a seat. ' Promising old Martin that if I were delayed at South ampton I would send him a telegram, I sprang up by the driver's side, and was rapidly whirled away. Waving my hand to tho faithful old man, who stood in the road gazing after me as long as we remained in sight, I pro mised myself to make the rest of his life a holiday. How strange, even in its familiarity, seemed everything we passed ! I felt as though I were a veritable Rip Van Winkle stepping into the world again, after my four years' imprisonment, mental and physi cal.

It happened that the driver was a stranger to me, and it; was too early to meet people in the vicinity to whom 1 npight bo known. By the time we readied the railway station, I had in a great measure overcome the awkward ness I had at first experienced. It helped me, too, wonderfully, to find myself taken as a matter of course by everyone. But the driver's exclama tion, when I put something into his hand, on alighting a short distance from the station yard, and the booking clerk's look of surprise at my putting down a couple of sovereigns to pay for a journey of twenty miles, gave me a hint that I was doing things more largely than was necessary. The train was duo at Southampton at seven o'clock, and that hour's jour ney seemed the longest I had ever taken. I was in a fever of anxiety as I approached my destination. What would become of me should The Mer cury prove to have been a phantom ship? The moment the train drew up, I sprang out, and made my way as quickly as possible to the harbour. Once there, I stood a moment in hesi tation, afraid to put the question, and trying to prepare myself for possible disappointment. The first person I made inquiry of set my mind at rest. ' The Mercury, Bombay ' Yes, arrived about an hour ago. There she is, and she'll be off again up Channel as soon as the passengers that land here are put on shore.' I hastened to the spot. Yes, it was my ship. There were the words ' The Mercury, Bombay,' which had looked so white in the moon light the night before. With some little difficulty I made my way across the landing stage amidst heaped-up luggage trucks and a babel of voices. The first person my eyes fell upon, as I stood on board was the man whom I had the night be fore accosted, believing him to be one of the mates. What if he should be again blind and deaf to me 1 The moment his eyes met mine my fears were dispelled. I was just what any other stranger might be to him. 1 Aro you looking for anyone, sir V ho quietly asked. 1A young lady.' Then, by good for tune, recollecting the name I had heard her addressed by, 1 boldly added,' Miss Langleigh.' 1 There she is, sir,' as she at that mo ment made her appearance in her hat and travelling dress ready for going on shore, and looking very delightfully real. She was shaking hands ■with two or three who accompanied her from the saloon. Kindly words of farewell wero interchanged, but 1 noticed that no allusion was made to what had occurred in the cabin. I advanced towards her hesitatingly, doubtfully, and not a little anxiously, longing, yet fearing, to know whether or not she would recognise me. The moment her eyes met mine, she extended her hand with a frank smile. I was no stranger to her. ' Good morning.' I returned her greeting with a light heart. 'How did you contrive to f She shook her head, with a little meaning glance around. I understand that she had some reason for desiring the subject not to be touched upon there, and substituted another question for that I had been about to ask— ' Aro you going to land here V ' Yes,' she replied, ' are you V I know now that she was under the impression that I had joined the vessel for the short trip from Marseilles. 'Yes. Can Ibo of service with your luggage, or in any other way V ' Thank you,' in the frank, simple, unaffected Avay which had so much struck me at first. ' If you have the tiroo to spare, I should be glad. I-have not much luggage, and I ought to be able to see after it myself, but I find things a little confusing this morning.' ' You havo not quite recovered the shock V I ventured, finding that we were for the moment a little apart from the others — indeed, they seemed to have quite enough to occupy their at tention—for 1 was burning to find out if everything had occurred as it had appeared to me to do. ' Not quite, perhaps.' After a hur ried glance around, she added: ' Colonel Ross—it was his cabin, you know- came to me directly, and he was easily induced to keep his own counsel in the matter. It spared him blame, and me fuss.'

• You did not wish to play the r6le of heroine 1'

' Not in so small a way as that'— smiling. 'But you were insensible when I ran to procure assistance.'

' Not quite. lam not naturally weak, and I got over it before Oolonel • Ross came,' she replied, evidently under the impression that 3 had summoned him. 'And yonr. hand.' ' Nothing serious. I knew what to do. I hope yours are uninjured. You did so much more than I.'

I had seemed to help her. I was prevented from replying.

'Everard 1 Mr Norman ! This is in deed a good omen !' was uttered in a voice which had once been music to

mv ear. , ' Mrs Westleigh !' I bade her good morning with a. smile, quite as ready to release it.again. Of course, I ex pected to see no. shame nor regret for the past. ' Have you heard from mamma / Did you know we were expected V with an eager light in her eyes, which the revelation of the night before enabled me to interpret. 'No, I heard nothing,' I quietly replied. 'I am here to help Miss Langleigh.' ' Miss Langloigh ¥ gazing from one to the other of us. I thought I had said as much as could be expected—or, at any rate, as much as was necessary —and with a slight bow turned away. 1 Good morning. Great confusion is it not ?'she lightly returned, looking back over her shoulder as she went, with a smile that did not quite accord with the expression of her eyes. I asked Miss Langleigh to point out her baggage to me, and together we stepped on shore. 'Do you expect friends 1 Do you wish your luggage conveyed to any particular hotel V I inquired, as the porter I had procured waited for instructions.

A delicate flush came into her cheeks, and she hesitated a moment, then her eyes met mine, and she quietly replied, ' I am alone, and I only want a respectable hotel, where I can wait until the cheap afternoon "train leaves for London.'

I gave the man directions, then walked silently by her side for a few moments, longing to put questions which I had no right to ask. Did she divine something of what was passing in my mind 1 Her eyes were presently turned frankly to meet mine.

' There is no necessity for any mystery about myself. My father,he'd a civil appointment in India, and when I lost him rather suddenly, it was found that we'—l intuitively perceived the love and loyal;y which prompted the use of the ' we ' —'had been living quite up to our means, and there was barely sufficient for—the last expenses. I have returned to England because my only relative is here, and there is more chance for me in the way of obtaining employment.' I was thinking what her first work had been, as she added, ' I am going to my brother, who is curate in a poor neighbourhood in London, to stay with him until I find some kind of work to do.' ' Is his name Arthur V I asked, in as steady a voice as I could command. ' Yes,' looking at me in some sur prise. ' I heard you mention the name last night,' I a little confusedly explained. * Oh, yes, I daresay,' easily enough accepting the explanation. ' I have been thinking of nothing but Arthur all the way home. There are but us two now, and we have not seen each other for years.' I looked at the sweet, earnest face, and knew that it would be life to love this woman as it was death to love the other. It had been given me to see the heart of each. But I strove to re member that she did not know me as I knew her, and to show only the cour tesy which might be expected from any gentleman to any lady under the circumstances. Still, I contrived that it should be.something more than ordi nary care she was surrounded with, both at the hotel and on the journey up, for I need hardly say 1 accom panied her. My going by the same train was not to be questioned; and, after making one or two little protests against being so much considered, she silently accepted my explanation that I thought the experience of the pre vious night entitled me to the privileges of an ordinary acquaintance. Her quiet and graceful way of adapting her self to circumstances, whilst maintain ing her self-respect, had an especial charm for me.

Her brother proved to bo in poor circumstances, a hard-working young curate, living upon a pittance in lodgings at the East End of London. I easily made the acquaintance of Arthur Langleigh. Had he been less open-hearted and genial than he was, it would not have been difficult for one so earnest as I to compass that, and my' acquaintance with him paved the way forme to make advances to his sister. She proved more than all Elinor Rush worth, had seemed to be, and 1 was living in the light again.

I did not leave the neighbourhood until I had won my wife, and then only to run down to the Park occasionally, iv order to see that my instructions were being fully carried out by the work people preparing for her reception. Light and warmth were let into the old house once more, spaces were cleared in the woods to obtain views of the beauti ful sea and land scenery, the gardens made gay with flowers, the stables well filled, and the whole place transformed.

Even I was satisfied with the as pect of our home, as in some degree worthy of my bride, when we were driven up the broad avenue, and the grand old house came in sight. I had frequently spoken of my place in the country, and they knew that I was independent, but neither she nor her brother had shown any curiosity as to the precise extent of my income. My own allusion to a marriage settlement was regarded as a jest, as was my hint about family diamonds. My bride was completely unaware that she pos sessed a thousand a year of her own, and that the jewels were worth almost as much. , :

• How rich you must be! You did npt tell me you possessed all this, Everardf she ejaculated, flushing and paling as the carriage drew up at the hall door, and she caught sight of the groups of servants waiting .to re ceive US,;

1 You did not ask me. Viva, and I

wished you to have the happiness of knowing, as I do, that you did not sufficiently care about it to put the question.' Shall I make any attempt to describe what our life has been 1 " I think not. We have no town house, preferring country life with our children. Viva is much amused at the idea of our. house having once been considered bloomy. But what place could seem gloomy where dwells such happiness as ours, and with a troop of merry children about it? Her brother is Eector of the parish, and his children and our own keep us too fully occupied in their wcrld to allow of our straying into the mystic regions beyond the range of ordinary experience. To this day my wife is under the impression that my presence on board The Mercury came about in the ordi nary way, believing that I joined the vessel at Marseilles. I have not un deceived her. It would, in fact, be difficult to attempt explanations, and as years go on I feel less and less in clined to broach the subject. I am quite a3 little able to account for the events of that night as I was at the time. I can only say that if it was a. dream it gave birth to reality. If it was not a dream there must be some thing more than speculation in the mystical -writers I was at the time en gaged in the study of, and there is another link added to the chain of evi dence which goes to pi-ove that " there are more things in heaven and earth than are dreamt of in our philosophy."

The End.

THE- AUCKLAND MCTTTO -STAR. WSPA;^ >■ MAY ' HkJ^Hi

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St. Jacobs *>il. DT. JACOBS OIL FOR NEURALGIA. OJUFFEBED FIVE YEARS-CURED. k3 Mr J. J. May, of Stratford, London, an old soldier and member of the Commissioners* Corps, suffered with intense neuralgic pains in his head for fiveyears,from which there was no relief. Two applications of St. Jacobs Oil removed all pain, and it has never returned. SUFFERED AGONY TWO YEARS. CURED. I Mr William Buchanan, for 21 years engineer in the Cunard Steamship Company's ser vice, 8, St. John's Road, Kivkdale, Liver pool, writes—" I suffered two years of agony from an affection in the head which nix physicians pronounced incurable. They were divided in opinion a3 to whether it was acute neuralgia of the head orrheu niatic affection of the brain, but all agreed that I could never recover. In my paroxysms of pain it needed two and Bometimes three men to hold me down in bed. When at death's door, St. Jacobs Oil was applied to my head. It acted like magic. It saved my life. I am well and hearty, and have had no return of the trouble.' SUFFERED IN HEAD AND FACE. CURED. For over one year Mr C. H. Palmer, Secretary of the Conservative Defence association, and Overseer of the District of Islington, suffered from neuralgia in his face and head, and rheumatism in his limbs. No treatment did him any good until St. Jacobs Oil was applied, when every trace of pain in the head and limbs was removed as if by magic. mORTURED WITHOUT HOPE. JL Mis 3 Twomey, CBshier for Messrs Har rington and Son, one of the oldest business houses in Cork, writes, under date July 23, 1885 " For some time I suffered torUire from neuralgia, and tried several remedies in vain. A kind friend suggested that I should try St. Jacobs Oil. Without hope 1 did so, and 1 am happy to stare that alter a few applications I was quite relieved, from pain." r7 PAIN NINE MONTHS-CURED. For more than nine months Mr Harry L. Agnue, carpenter in the Royal Arsenal, Woolwich, suffered from neuralgia in the head. He could obtain no relief from any remedy, but a few applications of Si. Jacobs Oil removed all pain, and cured him. YTNCEASING PAIN CURED, \J "241, High Holborn, London, E.G. * Until a friend advised me of the great value of St. Jacobs Oil as a ' Conqueror of Pain,' I had been a great sufferer from neuralgia in my face and head, and had never been able to obtain a remedy to ease the pain J procured a bottle of the Oil, the contents of which, welt rubbed on, completely re moved all pain, and 1 have not been troubled with neuralgia since. Sidxey C. H. Word." "Wholesale Agents, Auckland— Messrs SARGOOD, SON, & EWEN. Architects. "PIDWARD MAHONEY AND SON, ARCHITECTS, ; Q.UEEX-STREET, AUCKXAXP, MR. P. F. M. BURRO WS, ARCHITE^AND p BUILDING A.M.P. Society's Buildings. P. lIERAPATH, F.R.1.8.A.] Is. M. HERaPATH T> HERAPATH axu SON, -*- * ARCHITECTS, Colonial Bank Buildixgs. JgJ DW A RD BAKTLE.Y , ARCHITECT, RTICHBUKY'S BUILDINGS, QUKKN-STREET. JOHN MITCH ELL «J ARCHITECT, J ' St. Mungo Chambers, Queen-street, ana at Otahuhu. Special Work undertaken for the Profession Perspectives isr Best Styles. aion> Patent Drawing* aud Specifications Carefully Prepared at Moderate Charges. W~K SKINNER AND SON, 9 Builders, Carpenters, and Joiners Vulcan Lane. All Branches of the Building Trade executed by Experienced Workmen. Shop Fronts, Office Fittings, &c. ww ww ww THE RENOWNED OLD CITY CLUB HOTEL, SHORTLAND-STREET. RENOWNED because it was known of old as the resort of the business men of Auckland, who have the credit of appreciating good liquors. I have the pleasure to announce that, having purchased the lease of this Hotel, and being determined to supply only the BEST BRANDS, I do not fear the result. MY SPECIALITY is that I stick to JOHN WALKER and SONS' OLD HIGHLAND KILMARNOCK WHISKY that took FIRST PRIZE MEDAL at SYDNEY, MELBOURNE and PHILADELPHIA EXHIBITIONS; 11EN NESSY'S and MARTELLI'S BRANDY ; and. I will sell them in the bottle or glass UNADULTERATED. BC* ' ROBERTS, PROPRIETOR (LATE OF ALBERT HOTEL),



PARISIAN ■■: I LE sueu'^, I JUST I}b Mb VARI£TYASD*# PRICES UINPRECEDENTE^ Ladies will do well to take aava^|,;. rare opportunity. Tof% GET YOUR DRESSES MAD E fe I *ON MAIt.CiiE I FOR 12s Co, and ensure the hew fe'';'^- 1 procurable in the COLositv 1 AN ENDLESS'VAKIETY of tw^'^pi NOVELTIES in Dress fe which for value cannot bo 3ur|as ße | ct !t { f ASK FOR THE ' I LOUIS YELYETEEsI. Stamped on every half-yard, for k m 2s lid per yard, greatly under wholki.f A Stock of ready-made Costumesfrnmi.' and upward. , ."^Wil PATTERNS POST FREE. ■■ 801N T MARCHE, QUEEX STREET, AUCKIS Three door3from Wellesley StreetE? EXTRA PAIR _QF^gg^ g- MEASURE, X Hj c 50s. 555. ' ~"cOi;; ;^ \ ■ Kig 655. 70s. To^;:,^ ~iß 80s. Sos. Q03.-:#| P '' £ H. ROBINSON, Tailor,^ P \%K CORNEKOP /$/■} \-^ | OKEV S IHEETS. | ty/ M EXTRA PAIR oFTROOSERS ! ' New Goods in Men's, Youths' and J CLOTHING! 'TfATSI M HOSIERY 1 SHIRTS !jMS. "i\*%!irriiMr as every- Department! 1 |)*lsf<^liP^ contains somatlifefßS'- ■ IygPECIALLT (jHEiP ' ■ ' ■ '- ■'■ Which can only be secured &M making an Jh EAELY VlSIT.^g Business Notices. TtrOBRIB AND KE M AUI -i-^l Proprietors of • ; THE EDENDALE MANUFACTURINffPo, Manufacturers of WooUen Hosiery and, Underclotning, •' ;: Importers and Commission Agents,;/;,; 21. BLLIOTT-STKIiiKT, ESTABLISnED 1559.1 (HEE& POTTER, COACHBUILDEK,. \JT LORNE AND BUTLAKI) Stre^c Coaches, Carriages, Waggonettes,'.^* Pony Carriages, Carts,. Drays,-and oterm : scription oC Vehicles kept in stock, «W: order, '.rhe trade supplied. . N.B.—Traps lent, to customers whilst.?^ 5 are being executed. _1. BUTTEKICK'S CUT l^a : • /, PATTEUKS Op All the Latest Loxdon' FabhkusW 1 Ladies, Misses, Boys, and-fiii-ru; CmLDREN*, Can be obtained from KIDD & WILDMAN - '- ■ Shot&f W.P. OGILVIE. .. ~--yic^ J. &W. WILLIAMS - - MUNRO&CO.^ .v » '-;po^p: MISS FISHER - ~ „ Parne Fashion Sheets and Journals illustra^ng W above Pattens may bo had from 80- Stationei-or Bookseller. , ADAM KEIK MURRAY, IMPORTER AND PUBLISHER S3, Queen-street, Auoaand. v -.' FTIHB AUCKLAND Qs®s^ K a COMPANY.,, • KARANGAHAPB BOO THS ABOVE COMPANY Have taken Premises^ 3 , DR. PUHCHAS'S SPLENDID BMCKO* ?^ ; KarangahapeKoad, u(:1)) - Where they have oponed^ej^J^ and are now propffd^ prices.— ■ ments at the following P» Tea, small cup, Id. large do,'2d g^^id i, ■'! Collee „ ~ Id. i< ," A Tarts, \K" ■;■■ Cocoa „ „ Id, .. > tt..;noil &,»'•; Lemonade, Wd per bottle . :; , ter, W, tprl j; Ginger Beer, lid .- Bread& Bu, tte' GiiiKor Ale, lid ~ ilam&inf" Soda Water, lid »>•:..-; wiclie-S -v " Hop Beer, lJd .» jjeefdo..-a ■', Milk, Id per glass Pork Pies, sa^^.^,, 'tea, coffee,^&coqoA,^P " Open daily frorahal^istsix^niv^^ JL with an Extra Pair o£ iW" 4,, —J. H. Dalton, Tailor. ■