MORNA DALE; OR, The Guardian's Forgery.

By SYLVANUS COBB, Jr.

CHAPTER V. NEWS FROM ABBOAn.

Jonas Cbandel was as quick to read human character as was the gentle girl before him, and his powers of intorponetration wore as koen and far-reaching. He saw in a moment that he had betrayed an unfortunate facial expression to tho lady ho would fain have made his ward. He waa enabled to judge of tho character of that expression by call ing to mind the thought of tho moment. He could remomber clearly. On the instant when she had looked up so quickly and un expectedly, he had boen saying to himself —thinking of the folded paper in his pos session, bearing her father's signature—" A ha I young lady ! W ait! Wo will boo who shall conquer in the end I"

Those were the words that had shaped themeelvos in his thoughts ; and nil can judge somewhat of the look which tho male volent feeling must havo called to his face. At least, ho could judge ; and ho now felt that he must overcome tho impression he had made.

" Dear lady," his voice low and tromu lous, as though not yet recovered from something that had previously moved him, "can you imagine of what I waa juat thinking? No," ho addod, as eho gazed ■steadily into his faco without replying, " you could never guees. But I will toil you. You may blame mo : perhaps you will say that I had better have minded my own business ; but it waa boyond my power to control myself. This morning, at tho railway station in Wallingham, I hoard a man apply to your doar father—l may call him a saintly parent—l hoard a man, of gentlemanly exterior, apply to him an epithet co opprobrious, so utterly infamous, that I could not let it pass. Ho was speak ing of Doctor Dale in connection with the young phyßician at tho hospital—Ralph ABhmore. I will not insult your ears with his language, nor with the subject thereof. I spoke to him sharply. He retorted. Had he simply retorted upon mo, I should scarcely have noticed it; but his rotort was a repetition of his scandalous abuse of your father, and upon that I knocked him down. You can imagino that in such a place a crowd quickly assembled. " The man regained hia feet, and for the second timo repeated the ecurrileus lan guage ; and thus, for the second time, I knocked him down ; and upon that his frienda came forward and took him away. They did not blame me, but they explained tfoat their companion waa intoxicated. He would never have usod guch language in in hie sober moments.

■'Dear lady, it has occupied my thoughts much of the time since. It ia not pleasant to be drawn into such a position. Yet, I much fear, I should do the same thing again under like provocation. Do you think I did wrong ? I wish you would tell me." Morna knew not—she could not judge— if this story were true or false. But, if it wor* trne, it could not account for the look she bad caught on hi 3 face. That look had beon directed upon herself—a look Satanic and malevolent—and ho now sought to explain it away. She felt, how ever, that Bhe must answer him ; so, after ft little thought.she said : " Mr Crandal, I cannot judge In such a case. If your own conscience excusos you, surely I should not condemn. I can con ceive of caeoa in which one man may be justified ,in knocking another man down. But Bir," Bhe went on, beginning to wish that he would present his business and go away, "you did not come for the sole pur pose of telling me that ?" " Ho I surely not," he answered her, with a light laugh. " And perhaps I havo trans gressed the laws of good breeding in telling you the etory. But, really, it has mado such an impression on my thoughts and feelings, and it dwelt so tenaciously in my mind, that I had to tell somebody. No, no; I have come on. business of more im portance than that, aa you will acknowledge when I have presented it. In concluding this other matter, I will only say to you, - Forget it as aoon as you can. I was sure you'bad discovered by my face that some thing unusual worked within—hence my telling tbe story." At this point he changed bia position and assumed a look both serious and Bmiling; -but the smile was false, and there was a ring of falsehood in tho tones of his voice as ihe spoke. "Morna," he said, calling her by her Christian name for the firat time, " I will be very brief in the present matter. Let me ask you, first, —Did your father lead you to expect that he would leave a sum of money.for your use?" "Certainly he did," replied tho girl, .quickly. "He told me distinctly that he would do so." " Was anything said about the amount ? *• No, sir. I left that to him, knowing very wall that he would be generous." "Morna," —with a look of real concern, an earneEt, imploring look—l wish you would trust me. It is in my heart to do ■for you, aod for your good, the best I can. Your father remembered his promise to you while he and I were in tbe bank together, and he spoke to me about it. He bade me to place in your bands—he said, at first, one thousand pounds ( then he made it two thousand, remembering tho various objects of charity that might enhat your sympathies, and also certain house hold expenses which you might not care should be left for me to settle. Now what I would propose is this : The money is in the hands of our bankers at Wallingham - two thousand pounds — subject to your order—you shall go, either with me or with Doctor Ashmore—l suppose we must call him Doctor now, since he haa received bis di plomas from the Royal Colleges—you shall co with one of us and draw that money, and at once deposit it in your own name, subject to your individual check. Vt course, you would not think of keeping so large a sum, nor any considerably por ti on of it, in your house. The danger the temptation to thieves—would be too "Indeed, sir, I should never think of keeping such a sum of money in the house," she returned, promptly. A little pauße, and then Bhe went on—"your pre sence would not be necessary to my drawing the amount, I think you intimated." "Not at all. You aro not known at the bank, so you can do it without assist tance." ~ „ , ~, " I am thonkful to you, Mr Crandal "Morna, wby will you not call me imcle 1 You used to give me that title. But never mind," he added, seeing a cmick, painful flush mounting to her cheeks 2nd temples. " I only ask you to trust me and you may call me what you please. You were going to Bay, when I interrupted y°"7was about to say, sir, tbat I was cratefol for your kindnoss in offering your assistance ; but I will not take your time. Mr Ashmore will go to the bank with me at any time; nnd ho can do it without trouble, bis office being very near to tue place. 1 will attend to it at once-to jnorraw, God willing." "Then I may consider that part ot my business disposed of. Further I have only to say, you will conduct your household affairs as you please; the bills will all be sent to mo. You are to have no trouble with the servants, only to see that they do their duty. If you find cause for dissatis faction ; if any of them prove refractory, or give you trouble in any way, just speak to me, and you Bhall be relieved of their presence at once. This your father left in my hands, because he knew how painful it would be for you to be forced to discharge an old household attendant. " One word more," he added, rising from hia seat and smoothing down the ekirts of his coat: " Whatever may be the nature of your wants—no matter what the trouble - i _>fc me beseech you, come to me freely; *reat cue as a friend ;il you cannot come in person, send your messenger, with the as surance that I will quickly respond, if I am .alive and able to move." He did not wait for her to answer ;be poke a few words farther in tho came .strain ; and then, having bade her a friendly .adieu, he left her. On his way to the Abbey Jonas Crandel ennttered to himself, speaking aloud, in half formed sentences, the thoughts that stirred within j and tbe whole might be summed up in a sentence that fell from his lips just before he reached the great gate °f «AhA!" bhe ysa?dl Cwith a dangerous gleam • ' i m. „« "I am glad she did not try eh6alloweaher

i-enl feelings to come to the surface. Had ■Oie boon mild and gentle anil good, with never so little a Bpice of affection in her manner ; and had she called me uncle, with i. warm and loving Bmilo, I might have felt a relenting in my bosom ; but now— note I can go on without compunction. I feel it in my bones that the opportunity will come If it does—if It does—Ah ! she Bhall fee! ■uid know what it is to have a guardian of whom her own disposition has made an enemy !"

Lett alone, our heroine did not long allow herself to dwell unpleasantly upon the visit of Mr Crandal, turning her thoughts rather to tho munificence of hor beloved father, and thence to the joy ond comfort ehe should find in the many deeds of charity and benevolence she would be enabled to do.

Evening came, and brightness came with it—a visit from Ralph, who could spend two nights and a day away from the hospital. After toa Morna told him tho story of Mr Crandal's visit, and of the important item of business he had left with her. It afforded a pleasant theme of con versation—that,and tho absent loved ono so intimately associated with it—and not until the hand* of the clock on the mantel told them the hour for retiring had arrived had the momentous subject boon disposed of.

"To morrow morning, darling," paid Ualph, aftor thoy had arisen, and tho latter had taken hie lighted hand-lamp for his chamber, "wo will visit the bnnk, and aftor that wo will drive which evorway you pleaso. Dream pleasantly over it, and may all tho good nngela watch over you meantime"

Accordingly on tho following morning, ns soon as thoy had eaten breakfast, a pair of tho best horses in the stable, attached to a light, airy curriclo, wore brought to tho door, and the lovers wero soon on thoir way to town. At tho bank Mornn's business was transacted without difficulty. The officors know hor well; the money—two thousand pounds sterling—wns there, sub ject to hor order. Sho was in possession of aa much ready monoy, without any of this, as she would be likoly to require for a month at least j so Bhe deposited tho whole amount in her own namo, and thoy gayo her a little book,with the deposit act down, and with it another bookof blank cheques—a smallcom pact affair, easily carried in tho pocket—at the same time explaining to her how Bhe could draw her money when she should chance to want it. If ehe required furthor information.Ralph would give it to her. From the bank they rode away 38 far as Lnngburn, where they rested their horseß and lunched. Then back to Wallingham, whoro they put up tha horses again and dinsd, aa they had previously promised, with Dr. Laybrook. Supper thoy ate at the dear old Grange, and an evening of calm and tranquil enjoyment followed. From this date the days, tho weoks and tho months rolled on into the record of the past. At the hospital of Wallingham our hero wns winning golden opinions on all hands Among the attending physicians there waa nono other so well boloved by the patients as was he. Not only was he kind npd attentive, bestowing tho same care In time and labour upon the unfortunate ob ject of charity that he bestowed upon the wealthiest and proudest, but ho wae skill ful and fortunate. Ho lost fewer cases than could be shown by the record of any of hib confriars, and in surgical needs and op orations he had come to be an authority. The secret of it all lay in two things : First, nature had peculiarly adapted him to tho calling. Nature had mado him a physician in the outset. Second, he studied hard. His patrimony, wow grown to a goodly fortune, was in tho hands of the eamo bankers who held Dr Dale's funds, where it was steadily growing. He had not touched it, nor did he expect to touch it until he could use it in tho home of his wifo. At tho Grange Morna lived calmly nnd peacefully, and at times happily. Mr Cran dal had troubled her not at all. Once in a while he looked in upon hor, but hia visits were brief, and only on business. Ho never offered to converse on any othor sub ject. Never again had he askod hor why she did not call him uncle, nor had ho manifested tho least displeaaure because she did not. , Her father had left hor the i econd week of June. Time went on until tho saro and yellow of autumn without a word of hia wel fare. PiAt last, however.towarda the end of Novembor.came a gleam of sunshine. One evening, Ralph eamo over from tVallingham with the blessod letter for which sho had waited co Jflng. It had come in a packet to him, and had been brought by n merchant ship to Liverpool. It waa a long letter, covering a dozen pa<*6B of goodly size, and had boon written at "various times on the voyage to Cape Town. The first was dated not moro than a week after leaving England ; the closing paragraph bore dato August Sth, and had been written on board the ship in Table Boy. Ho was well, and and been woll all the time since he left home. He told her of his life on shipboard ;of the pleasant acquaintances he had gained ; of a severe storm the ship had encountered just below tho tropics; and of the final arrival at Cape Town, and of what he had Been on shore.

"Alas!" he wrote, "my heart aches with a burden of sorrow laid upon it since our arrival hcte. My brother—your doar Imc c U llliam— is dead. Word was brought to me in n letter from ono of his physicians-brought by a ship that arrived here from Calcutta on the same day that wo arrived from England. Ho died iust a wees; before I left homo lo go to him. The physician writes that William was expect ing me, and his business i 3 so arranged that I shall llnd no difficulty in settling it up. So I am now Sir Lawrence Dale. Ah 1 I doubt if over a man received a title with more of naln. How gladly would I surrender the title, and cast my own wealth into the same lot, if by so doing I could bring him back to life, well and strong. Hut It cannot be. His time had come, and I bow to tho will of the All Father with whntof resignation lean command. One thing, darling, is settled by this event. I shall make no extended stop in Calcutta. On mv arrival I shall ar once proceed to tho settle ment of the estate in India, and as soon as the work is done, I shall sot forth on my homeward voyage ; and you will doubtless see me with the spring blossoms." He had written a separate letter to Ralph, and also one to Jonas Crandal, which had como in tho same cover, and which the youth had immediately for "Now, darling," said Ralph, after the letters had been read—he drew her to hia bosom and kissed her as he spoke—"you will have no more dark and dismal fore bodings, you will henceforth think of ihe dear one as safe and well." •' I will try. But, 0, I wißb he were at home i The worst of his voyage was bo fore him when he wrote. That ia a treacherous ocean beyond the Cape of Good Hope. But - No, no, I will not be foolish. I will trust that Heaven will do for the beßt." " And you wjll not be disappointed, sweet one." . , ~ .. He kissed her again ; and after a time they talked freely and pleasantly of the ab sent parent. At the Abbey, on this Bame evening, Jonas Crandal sat in the magnificent old library—sat alone, with a Bingle oil lamp burning on the table ot his elbow—with an open letter in hie hand—a letter which he had read thiough twice, and which ho was now coilsideriug. This inclosure to Crandal had been in two parte, one of which had been wriiten by Sir William himself shortly before hia hand bud utterly failed him ; the other being from the same physician who had written to Mr Dale. In the page from the hand of the baronet was a paragraph which the steward read a third time. It was as follojvs :

" Of course, my estate of Oovedalo, together with the old Abbey and its belongings, will go to my natural helr-my brother Lawrence: but I have a large estate here in India. 0£ that tho larger part I shall leave to my adopted son, Ralph Ashmore. A portion will go to my dear r.ieee, Morna ; but bo sure you will not be forgotten." Crandal laid the sheet upon the table and arose to his feet. " Well, well, he said to himself, as he started _ owly across the room, •' I suppose I should have expected no more. Sir William has been a bountiful employer.and I have found opportunity to be bountiful to myself. At tho very worst, let Lawrence come back safe and sound, and'lot Sir Wil liam's will bo administered, and I shall yet make a handsome thing. Bud-will the doctor come back? 0, if I could know where Tom is I IE ho gets either ono of my letters, all may yet be well. If he does find one of them, he will surely obey my direc tion. Then-good-bye to Sir Lawrence Dale." . .. The man thought further on the same subject, but the thoughts were such as he would not whisper, even to the welb. At length, however, they became too earnest for silence, and onoo more tbey found ex pression in spoken words. " 0 I" he exclaimed, smiting his heavy hands together with an impact that sounded afar, "if Tom succeeds, or if the natural course of events reeults io my favour,_ my way is clear. Tbe old attorney, Mortimer Rivers, I am told, is sick unto death. With him out of the way, the deed of guardianship ia as good aa mine. Thon for tbia young interloper, Ralph Ashmore. With Tom's assistance we will soon dis pose of him, And then—Oho ! the dream of years will be fulfilled. There may be difficulty ; but I can afford to—Ah 1 What now 1"

I " A gentleman to eeo you, sir," said a ser vant at tho door. "Not at hone. I can eeo no ono to night." •■ Old man, ahoy ! I think you'll tako me aboard, — to-night .'" shouted the new-comer, pushing aside tho servant and passing him. Jonas Crandal started and caught his breath. At first he thought hie senses miißt be playing him false ; but, even by the light of the single lamp, he quickly saw a sub stantial figure of flesh and blood. "Tom ! Tom ! In tho name of all that is wonderful, how came you here?"

CHAPTER VI.

C'APT. TOM -A RETROSPECT—STARTLIXO NEWS !

Jonas CrandAl'.H first order to his eorvants, aftor he had greeted hia eon, was for more light: his next, for a bowl of rum and bandy punch, hot ond strong; and hia next, that a royal banquet Bhoutd bo pro pared forthwith, "Wo won't kill a fattod calf, Tom j but we'll find something vastly bottor.—Now stand here in the light, and let mo look at you. Upon my word, you have matured unto a man worth looking at !" lv one sense Jonas spoko simple truth. Physically, Tom Crandal was aa magnificent a specimen of manhood as could be found in a day's journey. Straight as an arrow, vory nearly as tall as his father —six foet, at least, muscular oa a young ox, and as strong, perfectly proportioned, his head covered by a mass of nut-brewn curls, his features very far from ugly, with a pair of dark grey oyoe '.that would have beon sparkling and bright, had not the shadows of deop drinking somowhat blurred and dondened them.

Looking at tho two, ns thoy stood facing each other, it was not dillicult to determine that thoy woro father and son. Thore was certainly a striking roßomblanco Of tho two, tho son was the bottor looking, as socioty intorprets tho term. If ho had not the wickod gloam of his father'B oyos, ho yot looked tho more dangorous man. There was ia his really handsome face—it was a tigorieh face—a look of rockloss daring ; of firm, uncompromising will, which addod to strong animal passion, and an entire lack of everything approaching moral principle, rondored him about as dangoroue aa n sano and sonsible man could bo.

Ho waa bis father's only child—tho daughtor, as we know, being a myth ; his mother a Brazilian Creolo ; reared from his infancy on shipboard, and amongst tho very worst and most abandoned clnßees that follow the soa for a livelihood. Ho was now four-nnd-twonty yeara of ago ; and wo may as well spoak the truth here asanywhore. During tho first fourteen yoars of hia life he had soiled with his '.father, most of tho time in the slave trade, between tho African coast and Brazil and Cuba. Two or throo of thoso yoars, howevor, found Jonas Crandal, undor another name, Hying the black flag at hia peak. On tho Spanish Main, and in tho waters of tho Lessor Antilliee.that norn tie guerre becamo a terror oven to tho largest ships, if thoy were not war ehipa. When Jonas finally gavo up tho soa, and tho nefarious lifo ho had led thoroon, and eamo to set tl o in Covedale, Tom remained bohind, shipping first on board a Spanish smuggler, whero he remained until ho was captured and lodged in prison. But prison bars did not long restrain him. Ho soon broke looso, and next returned to tho slavo trado, making immense profits, which ho spent as fast as they eamo to his coffers. At tho ago of twenty, an accomplished seaman, ablo to whip any man ho know, afra'd of nothing earthly and knowing nothing of things heavenly, ho found him self in possession of fifty thousand dollars in Spanish gold ; nrd instead of squandering it, ho purchased a swift biig, armed hor heavily, manned with a crew aa bold nnd rockloss na himself, and sallod for his father's old ground on tho Spanish Main, whro he becamo oven o greater terror than tho parent had been beforo him. " Tom," said tho siro, after tho'punch had boon brought in, with pipes and tobacco, and tho door had been locked behind the departing sorvants, " I don't know whether to be glad or sorry to sco you at this timo. 17pon my lifo, I'm afraid my regret out weighs the joys of onco moro beholding you." "Is that a conundrum, Admiral I" a«kod the son, betweon his sips at tho fragrant beverage. " No," said tho father, sotting down his glass and leaning back in his ensj-chnir. "I'll tell you: About the midrllo of Juno last,! wrot-3 and despatched to your address four letters —they wore copies of ono original —in which I laid out for you a b't of work which l was vory anxious should bo woll done. I would have done it myself hud it boon possible; but tho vory nature of the easo forbade."

"Aye, and where did you sond your letters ?"

" I sent one to the caro of your old agent, De Costa, at Saint Pierre, Martinique. I gent another to the care of Joan Arvilla, at Rio. The third I sent undor cover to our old Dahomy driver, at Saint Poul, Guinea. And the last I ventured to send to the hands of Captain Philip Watterly, at Cape Town. The last I had no hope of your re ceiving, yet I thought I would send it. It could do no harm, if it did no good, as tho particular business of the mi'sive waelwritten in our Congo cipher. Ah I If you could have got one of those 1 But It ia too lata now. We must tru.»t in Providence, as iho eaying ie," A curious smile lurked round tho cornors of Tom's gross lips. Ho ladled out anolhor glass of punch, and having slowly drunk half of it, he lowered his hand and looked

up. " Father, let me toll you about my last cruise. Something like a year ago the Spanish Main had become too hot for mo. Thero wore, to my certain knowledge, twelve vessels of war—two of them frigates —on the lookout for my brig; and at length, after a Bharp fight with a French corvette—my two long rifles giving me the advantage of hor at long range—l concluded to change my quarters ; and after thinking the matter over, I made up my mind to run across the big pond and ship a cargo of niggers. 1 landed at our old place up the Qubsbo River, and there took aboard as fine a lot. as you ever saw. But ill luck was mine. While we wero loading I was taken down with the coast fever, and was sick enough, I assure you—bo sick and so shaken that I would not sail. At this point my fortune changed. My two mates had long been anxious to buy my brig ; and when I told them that I shonld let them run the cargo across, whilo I looked up a good doctor, they came down on me again to sell out. I knew they had the money. We had had wonderful fortune, and they had been saving. "Well,—to make a long story short, I sold—sold everything—tbe brig, and her armament; my share of tho niggers; and my nautical instruments. They paid me fifteen thousand pounds, in good monoy— part in gold—only a little, however,—moat of it being in orisp Bank ot England notes and certified letters of credit on London, from the Bank of Rio. Thoy landed mo at Saint Philips, where I took passage aboaid a Dutch galiotfor Cape Town, feeliog sure I should find Doctor Torville thore, and feoling equally sure thnt ho would make me a welfmao. And it all eamo to pass, I—" tt g u t—Tom !" broke in the father unable to hold in longer, " did you get my letter?"

'* Well, old 'un—l did." " And why did you come homo ? Why didn't you go at once to Calcutta, whero the one great stroko of your life might have been made T "Haveyou got through, old man ? For the present—yes." " Then." said the son, with a darkly sig nificant smile, "the thing that I suppose you meant by Providence had got iv ahead of us I" " Eb ! Tom I what do you mean ? " Simply this : As soon os I had read your letter, which Watterly gave me on the very next day after my arrival, 1 began to mako inquiries ; and very soon learned tbat tbo English Btoamer Regulus had been in -the harbour two or three weeks before, and that Sir Lawrence Dale had been on board—" '' Sir Lawrence ?"

"Yos. Such news travels fast. It seems as though about everybody at Cape Town had heard ot Sir William's death, and that bis brother Lawrence was on his way out. W.i as I was saying,— I learned that the baronet was on tho Rogulus, and that she had sailed little more than two weeks be foro, My next move was to secure pas cage to Calcutta, which I at length did on board the eamo Dutchman that had brought me down from the upper coast. But not six hours before she was ready to sail word came-brought in by an English transoort - that the Regulus had been caught in a tornado, and had gone with all hands on byard I" "Tom! Tom !—you don t mean it.' cried Jonas, leaping from his chair liko one upon whom a thunderbolt had burst. 'If you have one spark of regard for me, don't —" , • "Pshaw! Sit down, old man! One would suppose you had lost your everlast ing fortune by the sinking of that ship. But honestly- it is as I tell you. I saw the

captain of tho transport, and talked with others of hor offieere and crew. They wero not moro than six to eight miles away from the Regulus,yet the tornado —it roust havo boen a savage whirlwind—did not touch thorn. They saw tho track of tho terrific blaat on the waters! saw it striko tho great steamer, and saw her go ovor and go down- disappearing—liko an egg under tho foot of an elophant! Tho transport lay-to awhile, and then up helm and ran down to where the steamer had been last eoen. They picked up a hencoop and a fow spare spars ; but everything of any consequence had gone with tho ship " '• And," said tho old man, breathlessly, " you are euro no ono was saved ?"

" ___, of courso not. They had not a minute's warning. You know how quickly they strike. A man on hor poop, discover ing the first sign of tho visitation, would havo just about time enough to Bay a hriof prayer, provided ho knew it by heart, •bo foro tho atroko came. You may rest en tirely satisfied that not a living thing—not evon a rat nor a cockroach—survived that Bhoclf."

The parent gassed for a fow seconds into tho face of his son, aa though to mako sure that the whole thing, from boginning to end, was not a sleeping fanoy of hia droams, born of his much pondering of that very subject i but no |it was a fact) it was true. Providonco had saved thorn from the commission of a crime, for Tom had fully determined t > go to Calcutta, and send tho father of Morn i Dalo nftor his doparted brother, if tho ovont could bo accom plished. Assured that ho did not dream, the stoward started across the room, rauttoring, as ha wont: "It is hotter so !—hotter bo I" Sevoral turns ljo took to and fro, and thon atoppod, and caught hia son's hand. Ills oai had cnuilhl tho Bound of approaching foot, and hi would not havo tho curiosity of tho servants oxoitod,

" Tom Iwe will talk more by-andby. I hoar tho old butlor'sstop— O ! in ail but the empty name, I sco you, oven now, lord of this broad domain. But it Bhall not bo wholly ompty. I have influence with many of our great men. You shall bo mado —a juatico, at loaat." Tho last sentonco waa whisporod over tho shoulder, tho butler having laid his hand on tho knob of the door. Tho mustor had forgotten that tho key had boon turned in the lock. However, tho way was speedily oponocl, and supper nnnouncod.

Novor mind about the meal. Servants wero present, and tho twain could not bob tho subject nearer thoir hoarts. The only foaturo of tbe oecaaion worth making a noto of wns tho astonishment of tho good old butler at peeing the newcomor oat. He thought ho had noveraoon a human being eat so voraciously ; nor had ho over eeen a man oat co much. Towards the end Tom caught tlio old man's eye fixed upon him with an astoundmont not to bo mistaken, and tlio circumstances amused him.

" Hi! Martin llt surprises you to see me eat !"

" Lord eavo us,my doar young Bir ! -Cap tain I-I never thought—"

" Pooh 1 pooh !" interrupted tho sailor, laughing heartily at tho old man's distress, " you have a right to ho surprisod. Liston to mo, good Martin I What would you cay of a man who had livod fourteen days and fourtoen nights on four Brazilian bugs, two Capo toads," and a littlo Dahomey nigger, no largor than a j-ick in thebox ?'' "0 1 Lord havo morcy on ue I—don't montion it, sir 1"

"Well, Martin, that has beon my fato, exactly. Can you wonder that I am hungry V "O! no.—Blos.a mo 1 Captain, 1 don't eoe how you lived " "I eamo very noar to kicking tho buekot, I assure you | but 1 didn't "

■ Whon fathor and son woro onco moro alono togothor, tho eldor man's first thought —a thought that had not oceurrod to him until after thoy had reached tho tablo— was of when tho startling news would be likely to reach tho Grange

"Do you think it probablo that Morn-i has boen informed of hor father's death ?" he nskod his son.

"Certainly not," Tom replied, quickly. " Sho cannot know it beforo to morrow,nor can anyono eleo hereabouts. Let mo tell you : I hoard the news at Cape Town whilo on my way to tho Dutchm in with somo of my luggago for Calcutta. Lying diroctly alongside tho galiot was a French eteamev, bound fur Brest, and ready to sail. 1 had just time to see the captain of the transport, and a few of his odicora and crow, and get the pirtioulara of the loss of tho Regulus, whon tlieFrenchman'sßteam white sounded. Yoa may believo I moved q-iickly. The steamer was in motion, swinging her head on to her course, whon I wont over hor side with my traps in my hand. Wo bad a quick run, without mishnpa, and, as luck would have it, off Saints' Island, whsre wo had signalled for a pilot, I a»w a Cornish lugger just poking her nose under the steamer's stern. I hailed her commander, and made him understand that I would givo him ten pounds if ho would land mo any where on the Channel coast of Cornwall. Enough to say he did it. I m-ido it an extra two pounds, and ho brought me to within two miloa of tho cove, whore ho lowerod a boat and sot me on shore. Now you can understand. I shouldn't wonder, if you koep your own counsel, if nobody else hereabouts heard of it for two or throo days. Tho noxt thing to leavo Capo Town for England, when I eamo away, was tho trans port, and sho was not only a lumboiing cralt, but she was to roman thoro two days at least."

"Tom," said tho parent, looking up from a thoughtful posturo, which ho had held for several seconds, " if it is as you say, I cannot soo how tho news of the disaster can roach England before the transport arrives."

"It cannot," responded tho son, em phatically. There is no earthly way for it to coined Thank fortune—it is fortunate for ua —there is no such thing as a lino of telegraph to the Capo yet " " I'll toll you how it may bo fortunate, my boy." He took one more turn across tho room ; then slipped to the door and turnod the key ; and then came back and resumed hia seat. "Tom, I wish you could Bee Morna." "For what?" "To sea how beautiful she has grown." " Hold on, old 'nn. What are you driving at?"

" Plainly, my boy—to be sure if you are really and truly eager to gain the hand of the girl who muat bo—aye, who . —owner of this grand old ostate. Also, of vast wealth in India. I want to know if your heart is i.i the work."

"Old man, what do you take me for ? What do you imagine I have come all these thousand miles for ? Bah ! Show me the work to be done ; and if mortal man can accomplish it, I will. Are you satis fied ?"

" Tom ! My doar Tom ! I am proud of you ; I believe you'll make a better husband for tho girl than she would be likely to get if left to her own choice."

" Eh I Then she has a choice ?" " Yes i and it is of that I wih to apeak." "Who ia ho? What is ho? Do I know h:m ?"

"You saw him onco, Tom, when you were hero just aftor I had fallen in with Sir William. You remember the boy the baronet had informally adopted ?"

" Yes, yos, I remember there was such a boy hero, aud a good-looking young fellow he was. You mentioned him in your letter."

" Yes. Ralph Aehmore. his name is ; and, Tom, he is iv our way."

"Then we must put him out of it. You and I have done enough of that kind oi work to—"

" Sh! Not so loud,dear boy. Heavens ! if we should bo overheard !"

" You are right, governor. I will be more careful. And now tell me all about this youthful hero. 18 he an accepted lover of the girl?" " Aye, not only that, but her father, be foro he went away, gave his sanction to their marriage."

" Well, well," said Capt. Tom, with a knitting of the heavy brows, and a com pression of tho full cruel lips, that denoted a deapor feeling than one might have sup posed such a cause could have produced in him, "if the dear girl is to be miuo, the sooner this obataole to tho arrangement is removed the better "

"That's it, exactly, Tom. We must have him out of the way, if possible, before the newa can come of Doctor Dale's death. With him gone, Morna will be obliged to look to me for help in hor great trial. "Then," the parent continued, quiveriug like an aspen in hia intensity ot eagerness, " you remember our old friend, Captain Jack Armstrong ?" " Be sure I do." " He is, I believe, at this very moment at Walling Cove, with his lugger. He landed a cargo of brandy and wines not a week ago ; and some of tho brandy we have drunk this evening. In his crow we shall find ' help, if you thiok it will be wanted." | " I'll think of it; I'll think of it, old man. The work shall be done, at all events." And then a ellenoe fell, while Tom Crandal thought. It was a Bubject too

deep, and of too much moment, to be lightly considered. (7'o be continued.)

TWO KEYS: OR Margaret Houghton's Heroism

By MRS GEORGIE SHELDON,

Author of "Brownie's Triumph." "Tho For-

saken Bride," " Audrey's Recompense," Seo.

CHAPTER XLVII.

LET THE FUTURE REDEEM THE I'AST.

" What nro your plans, Arthur ?" Mr Forest questioned as he entered his room and found the young man Btanding thought fully beside his portmanteau, which he had just finishod packing.

"I have nono boyond gotting out of this country ns soon as po=siblo," he answered moodily.

"Do not let your mistake make you rockloßs, my boy," said Mr Forest, kindly, "It in novor too lato to b?gin to do right whilo wo havo lifo and health."

" Alas !my lifo has been nothing but a mistako from beginning lo end."

' Well, half the battle is fought when wo become conscious of our ein—tho other half must ho fought to conquer it," said his unclo. " I cannot forgot," he resumed with Bomo emotion, " that you aro my sister's son, and I shall always feel an in terest in you. I hope you will try to do well from this time on, but if you get sick or in trouble at any time, I want you to lot me know."

"Do you suppose he will countenance your intorest io. one who has done him nothing but injury?' Arthur curtly asked, with a motioti of hia head toward tho room whoro Louis was.

'•You wrong him, Arthur,' Mr Forest returned, quickly. "Ho told you himself that ho should grudgo you nothing that I might chooao to do for you. And aoe—l can prove it. I asked him to name some sum to givo you a start with, and he filled out thia chequo for you with his own hands." Mr Forost handod it to him as he spoke. Arthur took it and stood silently regard ing it for a moment. He was vory pale, hia faco wa^ overcast, thero waa a doep fur row'botweon his browe, and his lips twitched nervously. " Uncle Albert, I cannot tako it!" ho burst out, at longth. " Why not?" " It is too much ; it burns me like n red. hot coal," and the paper fluttered from hia nerveless lingo s to the floor. Mr Forest s fuco brightened. It was an indication of better things, ho thought, to havo him show his fooling of un worthiness. Ho stood in doop thought for a moment. " But how much shall I givo you, then '_" ho naked.

" Just enough to get mo home, I would not a_,k that if I had a dollar of my own ; and —and," ho Btommored, a hot flush mounting to his brow, " those debts—l am ashamed of thom—tho bills aro in this drawer."

Ho pulled out ono of tho drawers of tho littlo tablo that Margaret had ad mired, and revealed a pile of papers with-

" Very well ; I will attoad to them," his uncle Eaid, quietly. " And now," he addod, stooping to pick up tho fallen check, " I think it will ba bost for you to take this ; if you liko, when you get homo, you can fctart in eo-.ao businosd, and this will be v groat help to you. You need not take it as a gift unless you chooEC ; take it as a loan, and if you aro over üble to replaco it you can do so." The younjj man bo. tatad a momont ; then betook tho paper, folded it carefully, and put it in his vallet. " 1 will Bay good-bye to you horo, Uncle Albert ; I cannot meot them again," with another nod toward tho adjoining room. " You havo boen very good to me," he added, epeaWng with difficulty, "and though I havo acted the part of a knave and a fool, I boliove I have como to my eunsoa sufficiently to appreciate your gen erous conduct " He hold out his hind ns ho concluded. It shook like v leaf in tho wind, and hi) lios woro sot in a whito straight lino of pain. Mr Forest took it and wrung it; it waa a most painful parting for him, and ho would gladly have kept tho young man with hjin until his own return if ho could have done so.

"Good-bye, Arthur," ho said, Badly; " let me hearfiom you; my address will bo here for tho present; and, I hog of you, lot tho future, us far as may bo, redeom the past " His nephew made no response, but, turn ing suddenly away, took up hia hat and left the room.

A servant soon eamo lor his baggage, and in an hour from that timo Arthur Aspinwull had left Paris forever.

Mr Forest returned to his friends and inforjied thorn of tho young man's depar ture.

The wholo party wero saddened by tho event. Thoy had known him ever since boyhood, and could not help fooling doep regret timt one who had so many advan tages, and everything to contribute toward a life of usefulness and success, should have co misused hiß opportunities.

"It is vory unwise to roar children in luxury and idleness," Mr Foreet remarked ; " they should bo taught, to act and think for themselves, and mode to feol that thoy have duties and responsibilities in lifo."

Ho glanced with an air of pride at Louis as ho spoke. It was wonderful, he thought, considering the unfavourable influences by which he had been surrounded during the early yeara of hia life, that he should have developed into the noble, cultivated geatlo man that he was.

Of course the young man's prospectß were all changed upon learning hia identity.

He was now the heir to a large fortune, and ho could return to hia own country whenever lie wished, and livo as ho chose.

His father argued this matter with him one day. " But, father, I can nevor consent to live in idleness," he objected ; " if I knew 1 should inherit five times as much, I should be very restlese and unhappy not to have some regular occupation." " Of course, I know that, and I do not aak you to sit down and fold your hands. But at the same time I do not feel like spending my life hero with tho?e chattering Freuohmen ; I long for ray native land and the scones of my youth ; but I cannot be separated from you; now that I have found my son I want to enjoy his society. Indeed, Louip," Mr Forest concluded, "you once told me that you would not like to make this a permanent home." "No ; I am too thorough on American not to prefer my own country," Louis responded, " but my position here is an excellent one, and I naturally feel a pride in making tho most of it."

" True ; but it will be a good opening for some other worthy young man, and I willgo. homo and establish some business that will bo both agreeable to us and helpful to others. I believe we oan do more good there, too; we understand the ways of Americans better than those of any other people, and I long to do something for poor boys there who aro struggling upward as you struggled. I shall never sco a street gamin after this without thinking ot your sad childhood. Will you go, Louis ?"

" Yesi I believe that duty, as well as inclination, points that way," Louis though fully replied. Other influences also combined to draw him homeward.

"Mr and Mrs Houghton would shortly return, and they could not endure the thought of being separated from their only child, and of course thoy seconded Mr Forest's proposals and arguments most heartily. Margaret alro longed to go home, although she did not say very much about it and would have remained with him without a murmur; yet she drooped whenever tho snbjent wa-p entertained, and her happiness was more to Louis than any other consi deration.

So he gave his notice that he should re sign at the end of the year, and i. was ar ranged that they should all return to gether. The time parsed very quickly, and one bright morning about a month before the day fixed for sailing there was a brilliant wedding in Mr Houghton's elegant man sion.

For more than two months previous, Worth had been busily engaged upon the

' trousseau of the lovely hrido-elect, and it was whispered iv many a boudoir that it was seldom that a richer or more complete outfit was sent forth from his noted estab lishment. The wedding itself was one long to be remembered, and was attended by many of the elite of tho French capital. Mr Houghton gave away ths bride, while Mr Forest nnd Mrs Houghton stood bonide tho handsome couple, each feeling that a new joy was about to be added to thoir own life in this crowning happiness of their children.

Louis had bean strongly urged by his company to stay with them, and was offered as an inducement a large advance upon his previous salary.

" No," he had Bftid, although gratified by this evidence of their appreciation of his services, his duty to his father pointed in another direction and ho could not recon sider his decision.

Among the elegant gifts presented to Mr and Mrs Louis Dunbar Forest, there was o service of solid silver, lined with gold, and accompanying it a letter asking their ac ceptance of it as a slight testimonial of tho company's high esteem for him as a man of honour and integrity, and also of their gratitude for the signal eervico that he had so recently rendered them.

Count Lorraine, who had so befriended Margaret on that night of her first visit to Louis, had never avnilod himself of her per mission to call upon her. Ho had learned, before the woek was out, why Bho had beon abroad unprotected, and in learning that, had realised at onco that thero waa no hope of hia ever winning the lovely Americin for his wifo, as he had hopod to do. Margaret 1 ail wondered why ho did not call—she wantod to thank him again for his kindness to her ; but she understood it all, whon, after sending him cards for her wedding, blio recoived costly and beautiful tiara of diamonds, accompanied by the fol lowing note ;

•• Will Maaemoisnllo Hiiißht-in accept an odcrinp: rromono win cannot t-.-uet hlnifo'f In hor p-n*cnc9-from one who has da-pd to horc hn mleht asnlrs to be to her somfith'nj mire thin a friend 1 Foruive the preanmDtion. May jour life bo rich in blowings, and may he who haa won you Ktmrl and eherißh the troasuro that is to crown his lifo. Adl. n . PHILLIPS. Count of Lorrmn.

Margaret copild not help shedding tears over this pathetic littlo note, and in return sho sent the young nobleman a kind reply, thanking him for bia gift, whieli, ehe told him, eho would prize aa one of her greatest treasures, as it would alwaya remind her of h 8 nobility and kindne. to her when ehe was in deep trouble, Anothor touching incident had occurred only tho evening bef're her marriage A young girl called and begged to see her, but was told that Miss Houghton could receive no one that day. Sho instantly produced a card, wrote somothingupon it, and sentituptoMargaret, saving she would wait for a reply. Tho card contained less than a dozen words, hut they proved.effactive. A brilliand flush suffused Margaret's face aa sho read. " Airaoo Porrine beseeches a moment with Mademoiselle Houghton," and she instantly doepatchod Arnetta to ask the maidon if she would waive ceremony and como to hor in her boudoir. Sho was indeed " beautiful na an angel," as her brother had said. Sho waa vory youthful in appearance, and yot. there wns a certain dignity about her that fhowed depth of character nnd high breeding. Sho was slight, tall and delica. , with groat dark eyes that thrilled one through and through. Thore was a flush on her round cheek, while her chest rose and fell with emotion aa sho approached the young bride-elect. " Mademoiselle," ehe eaid in low, aweet tones, drooping upon one kneo upon the hassock boforo Margaret, whilo she looked appanlingly into hor face, " Auguste has told mo all—ho ropents—ho has been in despair. Again ho sues for mademoiselle c pardon, and he begs, na an assurance, her nccoptanco of a trifle to grace hor gift Tho young girl laid a beautiful mother-of pearl casket upon Margaret's lap ns she spoko, touched a secret spring, lifted the covor, and revealed a cross of pearls and diamonds fit for a queen. The setting was of exquisite work manship; a row of whole pearls nearly aa large as peas extended down tho centre and acroee the urma, and on eoch sido of these thero was a row of diamonds half the size of tho pearls, while a curious aud beau tiful chain was attached to the top. "Ah 1 mademoiselle, you will not refuse," pleaded' tne lovely stranger. " With hie lips pressed to the eros:- Augusto swore ho wou'd never wrong anyone again. \ou havo mado him v good man -you have saved my bvothor, mademoiselle. I thank you, I lovo you, and may your life be full of It is impossible to describe tho eornept nesa and grace with which this waa ut tered, and Margaret's heart instantly went out to tho gill with a gush of tender-

nesa. , . , . , She leaned forward and impulsively kissed hor fair whito forehead, saying: " . adouioiselle Perrine, how glad lam that you did not go away without eoerag me, and how kind of you to come yourse f to bring me this beautiful gift. I shall keep it, and I shall prize it more than I can tell you, and I shall always remember you with bo much pleasure." "And Augusto, my brother? pleadeJ Airn-ee, wistfully. Margarot flushed. She could not recall that night oven now without a thrill of horror. , , . , , "Present him my thanka for this lovely cross, nnd say to him that ail was forgiven whon ho gave mo his pledgo that he would henceforth respect my sex without regard to position. Preeont my ejmplimentß also to the Marquis Do Perrine, and cay I con sider him a fortunate man to possess the love of euch a sister," Margaret responded, with hor charming smile. Her lovely visitor seized her hands and kissed thorn in a transport of gratitude. "Thanks, thanks 1 Mademoiselle is de lightful I" she said in a tremulous tono. She thon arose to go and Margarot ac companied hor to the door, where she msßed her once more-upon the lips thia time and remarked that she hoped they shoulu meet again ; and sweet Aimee Perrine went away wondering if all American girls were such angels and as beautiful as Mademoiselle Houghton. Two weeks of festivity and excitement followed tho wedding of our young friends, during which they were feted in every imaginable manner, and then they went to spend a fortnight in London before sail ing for home.

(To be Continued.)

CHARMING TOYS.

Somo Which aro Provided for Eng lish Youth.

One of the pleasantest children's play things that wo have seen for come time is called " the young protector pistol,' a plaything, moreover, which. " can be carried in the waistcoat-pocket." Parenta will be gratified to learc that in this pretty toy a pellet may " be driven clean through a half-inch board "at a distance of twenty feet. Scientific papas and mammas may find pleasure in calculating how far a pellet that would go " clean through a half inch board " might permeate their own in teriors. That this valuable addition can be made to the already rich treasures of a schoolboy's pocket for the low prico of 7b 6d (by post 7s 9d) is a matter of agree able reflection. The weapon, in our opinion, would be safe provided one could be sure that a boy would endeavour to take aim at onco with it j but if he were to try to hit some other object we would not guarantee that aa acaident might not happen. It is pleaßantto read that "se-'eral thousands of the young " protector pißtol " have already been sold, and so great has been its SUCC96S that its makers have been "in duced " to bring out another pistol, costing la more, which will " fire a ball sixty feet with tho greatest accuracy." This beauti ful instrument is only four inches long and might bo mistaken by the uninitiated for a Derringer. Itisa comfort to think that every other boy one meets may have one of these weapons in hia pocket. But the nicest of all playthings for children that has come under our notice is a " powerful six-chamber revolver," which can be obtained at a cer tain toy shop for 83 6d. Like the other pistole that we have noticed, it has tho advantage of being without any guard for the trigger. A papa with a revolver is not invariably a very safe person, but a boy, of course, always ia. Children who-e parents object to their using firearms may console themselves by buying at a wellknown toy i-hop a sword-cain, having all the_ appear ance of an ordinary walking stick, the sword being inside the stick, for Is 6d. By the way, we wondor whether thero is any chop now where birch rods are sold.

FRENCH AND GERMAN ARMIES.

Relative Strength and Efficiency of the Two Forces.

Both in her land and sea forces France has a peace effective numerically superior to that of Germany. Tha difference is greatest in the navy, and there also it could not be made up should a war occur at any time before 1890 ; yet, though it may seem a contradiction, in the navy this French numerical superiority is the least im portant. Germany has no colonies worth attacking, and her comparatively small coast line at home, where accessible at all, is well provided with defences, while France has a long coast line to guard. Above'all, the tremendous vigour with which war on laud would be wageu between these powers would make^it tho decisive element, just as in 1870, when the French naval superiority was perhaps even more marked than to-day, it yet availed nothing. For this reason it is not important to compare the naval forces of the two countries.

The army peace establishment of France ie the larger, but in population and poten tial arms-bearing reeourcea Germany has tho advantage. France has the greater debt and heavier taxes to sustain, but from these taxes the Government receives the ampler appropriations each year for mili tary and naval purposes. The peace effec tive of the French army, according to last year's budget, is 523,283, comprising 31,140 officer's and 492,143 enlisted men. Major Huberding, of the German War Ministry, in reporting recently to the Special Committee of the Keichstag on the Army Bill, estimated tho French peace force of enlisted men at only 471,000, possibly subtracting cither the goiidaiooorie, numbering 25,825, or eleo the military schools and bureau troops, which combinod amount to 21,000. The peace footing of tb-> Herman Empire comprises 18,143 officer., and 427,274 men, making an aggregate of 445,417. Thus in the peace effective the advantage ia clearly on the side of the French. News of recent date, however, announces that 68,200 infantry and 4,800 riflemen, making a total of 73.000 men of the German reserves, have been summoned to drill during the present week, so that for the next fortnight the effective force with the colours will be about as great on the German side. Turning to the war footing, the first ad dition ol France would be what ia called tho territorial army, which comprises an aggregate of 610,000 officers and men. Other additions might carry the total effec tive under the first call up to 1,600,000 men, including all arms and staff services. The German mobilisation for a war footing, without the landaturm and special organisa tions, but including garrison and field reeervee, would comprise 35,427 officers and 1,456,677 men, with about 27,000 more for tlio medical and collateral forces. Thus we see again how close the two mobilisations would come in numerical strength When the landaturm is called out on the one side and its French equiva lent on the other the Germans have an ultimate superiority of numbers, although the Frocch nominally counterpoise the advantage of population by making a larger ratio of their people liable to a military service. Still, co far as numbers aro con corned, the French would be much better off at the outset than in 1870. Were it possible for them, by a sudden dash, to invade Alsace and Lorraine, and neutralise the advantage in population which their possession gives to the Germans, a new face might be put upon tbe Btruggle. The German fortifications, military ekill and watchfulness, however, and tho probability that if thore Is war thia year it will be due to Germany's taking the initiative, render this contingency unbkely to occur. Tha difference between the respective organisations of the two forces may be briefly inJlcated by saying that France is a little etronger in infantry, about in pro portion to trie general strength of her peace organisation She is decidedly the etronger in artillery, and especially in the number of her field guna. Major Huber ding declared to the Reichstag that the French batterieß now contain 452 mounted field pieces more than the German, the lat ter having 1,404 to the 1,856 of France. On the other hand, the Germans are very much stronger than the French in cavalry, having fully seventy more squadrons and about one third more total cavalry force. One of the highest cavalry authorities in France declares that the dispersity in this respect at the outsat would be much greater since a large part of the French mounted force ia absent in Africa, making the Ger man available force nearly double that of the French. In a week or ten days, however, the absent French could be recalled, and then the respective Btrength in this arm would be an aggregate of about 04,000 officers and men for tbe Germans against 45.000 for the French.

How to be Happy, Though Single.

We lately wrote a book which has been most favourably received, called " How to be Happy, Though Married," but we think that quite as much might be said on the possibility of single blessedness. Thou sands of women and even of men cannot marry for one reason or another. Let them cultivate the contented state of mind of that old Scotch lady who said, " I wadna g'ie my single life for a' the double anea I ever saw." People may admire tbe marriage Etate and yet have their own reaaona for not entering it. Under the dying pillow of Waahington Irving there was found a lock of hair and a miniature. Who will say that a man or woman ought to marry who treasures up Buch memo rials, and thinks of all that might have been ?

lmpecuniosity is another reason for deny ing one's eelf the luxury of a wife. A mis take may, of course, be made as to the amount of money necessary for marriage. Thero are tboso who could drive a coach ond-two, but, waiting-fora coach and-four, they are carried into the desolation of con firmed bachelorism. That roan, however, ia much to be pitied who leads a pure life and whose "I can't afford it" is no mere excuse. Let Mm continue to work and economife, and before] very long he will have —

A guardian angel o'er his lifo presiding. Doubling his pleasures, and his cares dividing

And here we must protest against the foolish and cowardly ridicule that is some times bestowed upon elderly men and women who, u-<ing the liberty of a free coantry, have abstained from marrying. Certainly some of them could give reasons for spending their lives outside of the temple of Hymen that are.far more honour able than the motives which induced their foolish detractors to rush in. Some have never found their other selves, or circum stances prevented the junction of these selves. And which is more honourable, a life of loneliness or a loveless marriage? There are others who have laid down their hopes of wedded blisa for the sake;of accom plishing some good work, or for the sake of a father, mother, sister or brother. In such cases celibacy is an honourable and may be a praiseworthy state. —" Cassell's Maga zine."

FOR THE YOUNG FOLKS.

HATTIE'S H&T.

Hattie came in with a bright colour, and

es which flashed. "Aunt Marjorie," she exclaimed, "is there anything about my dress ? I met Cousin Ed, and he saidt ' Good-morning, dear. May I ask, when did you arrive from Tonga ? And when I said, ' Please explain, Cousin Ed ; I do not un derstand,' he answered, ' Pardon me ; I was looking at your headdress, mademoi- On Hattie'a hat nestling daintily among the ribbons, was a tiny wren. On another of her hats, as I remember, there was a grey wing, the wing of some eeabird; and still another waa adorned with golden plumea. "My darling child,' I said, "in the Tonga Islands travellers tell us that the ladies wear whole forestfuls of birds on their bonnets, and trim their gownß with feathers. In some of theße and in the Malay Islands the men wear garments composed of feathers, and have queer dances, in which they look veiy groteeque, for each has mounted on hia own head the head of a murdered bird. It ia, you Bee, a saxago fashion, and if our girls thought abo it, they would hardly like to wear dead song birds on their pretty heads just aa those fierce islanders do. The Audubon Society, of which your cousin is a member, is trying hard to protect the birds, and the Legisla ture has been invoked to. prevent .(adieu from killing all the little warhlers. In the past few seasons thp darling things have been ewept off by thousands, because fashion has ordered that they should bo worn on our bonnets and hata. That tiny wing on your hat, dear, no doubt was torn from the hird on h6v neat and her fledd' lings.''

" I Bee," said Hattie, " that I have been a horrid, thoughtless girl." And unpin ning the bird from its place with energy : "I for one will never wear a dead bird again. It is a hateful fashion."

Robert's Reckerlekshun.

Wen I was jest in the werry prime ond wigour of my manhood I used to get a good | deal of werry good work down at Grinnidge. It was a much more fashonable place than it is now, as all the West-end swells used to drive down ocashunally with their fare companions and have such dinners as we seldom sees now excep at the Manshun Ouse, or the Livery Companies Alls. We ueed to think notbink of 16 courses. I've heard my Father say that sum of the Stock Exchange gents used to cum down sumtimes, and the; used to go it pretty freely, aod thort no really good dinner could be had under .; Ginnys a hed, and tho great Quartermanes, and setterer, of them days, used to encourage the noble idear. I remembers his telling us that there WS3 one Gent among 'em who had wunce been tolr" as he werry much ressombled his moat reli Igeous Majesty George the 4th, co he always dreet hiaself like him, and one day whin he came to dine with 'em at Grinnidpo, being rayther late, when he hentered the recepshun Room, they all formed a double line, and struck up as loud aa they could holler, " God. save the King I" and them as couldn't eing pretended ito play it ou warious hinstrumentoi, and wen he got to the werry end of the room, he turned hisself round and sed, " Blesa yer, my peepel 1" Ab, they i 3 a jolly lot, Ss them Stock Exchange Gents, and werry ginerens to us, as all trew Gents, naturally is.

I remember tho' tbat one of the weny briteet on 'em rayther puzzled me the other day. Itwaaa3ginny dinner, witchis rayther a rare thing in theae regenerate days, and he Baid to me, says he, "Robert," says he, "what difference is therebetween a3ginny dinner and a 30a one?" Well, for a mo ment I wbb almost thrown off my gold, but I pulis myself together, and I says boldly. "AU the difference in the world, sir." " But in what way ?" says ho. "In ewery way'" says I. "Give me sum xamples," Bays he. " Well, take the sorces," says I. "You've had reel natives in your Oyster sarco, ond reel Lobster with your Tubbot, and how offen do you git them I wunders ?" " Ah, well,-"' says he, " there's sumthink in that, so I'll allow harf a crown for 'em. Now, what elsa is there ?" I was almost stumped, when a "brite thort struck me, and I says, Bays I, *' If you'll be kind enuff to notice, Bir, ycu'll ccc as all up Waiters haa new wite kid gloveß on, and I don't suppose aa you .ewer geta that for i your 30s dinner." And with that I leaves: him and gos to another part of the table, and I acshally seed him a telling of the story to his naybor, and a pinting at me, J and both of 'em a lading like two kan garoos. A speaking of Grftraidge, as I did jist now, reminds me of my greens and Sallad days, when I went a courting of the future Mrs R. Grinnidga ain't at all a bad place for courting. You can meet your Beloved in the Park, and arter a little wark you can take a coat, and look at the chips a going backard and forreds with their wite sales or their black smoka, as the case may be : and then if it appene to be a bootiful warm evening, as mine waa, and there ain't no boddy n cumming you can take off yer At, coz of the heat, aa you cay, and then you can take yer darlin's and with no glove on it, coz of the heat, as she cays ; and then, giving a look rito into her downcast eyes, you say, " Deer Looweeser! shall we jine out fortunes together like them ere two ships as is a going along ao nice and cum feral? Yon shall be the bootiful sailing weasel, so lovely and so fair, and I will be the ueeful steamer as shall tug you safely into the Arbour of appineas." Then you gives her and a squeeze, and then she says, "Yes, Robert, dear, we will." And then you gives her a kiss, and it's all over, and you warts her off in triumph to the coorest Restorong, and gives her a nice little dinner.

Ah ! Mrs Robert, was a reel lovely creechur in them appy days; and ewen now, tho' of course time, and Bobbys, and suckumatancea alters cases and alters forms, she's still a remarkable fine woman, and I've never had no cause to regret my bold hact on that there lovely summer evening in beautifool Grinnidge Park. 1 shood strongly recommend all my yung readers to marry nice, pretty-look ing wives —they iites up the house like a sunbeam all the mnrnin, and are as good as a good fire, and a Sugg's gas-light of a heavening. And as for them aa is unfortnet enuff to be plane, why, when they quite tires of Sunday skools, and Dorcus meetings, and Moody's novels, there's all the Collonys areddy to reeseve em with bopen harms. Sum of my {rends at the Collinderies told me as how the werry planest need not despare so long as they was good tempered and cheerful. Why in some placeß I was told as all the Bachel dores of the places cums off to the ship in Botes, afore she was ankered, and jest takes a look round, and makea their choice, and the matter's all settled in about ten minuets ; and if too or three on 'em chooses tha same one, there ain't no quarrellin about it, but they gos hod man who shall have her. Sum of them Collonys must ha' bin rayther rum places to live in a good many years azo. I remember a young friend of mine going to Wan Demons Land, when I was quite a lad. He cum back in about 5 years, and I never could find oat who paid his passage, either out or ome. There was alters a little mystery attached to it, so I didn't enquire no furder. But he told me as all the servants, waiter and all, was trarnaported theeves, and all the reel natives used to wark about Obart Town as naked as oysters 1 But like every think elee in this mortial world, you soon get used to it, and thoit nothink of neether of them singular suckemstances, and he had the imperance to say that he had bin told as the Marsters and Missuses didn't find werry much difference as re gards their Ousekeeping xpenses.—Robert, —"Punch."

THE GREAT SPHINX.

Progress of the Excavations Now

Being Made.

The last occasion on which the Great Sphinx was cleared down to the level on which the paws rest waa in honour of the opening of the Suez in 1569. The ever-drifting eanda had, however, reburied it almost to the throat when Professor Maspero, during his last year of office at Boulak, began again the work of disinterment. This work has now been going on, somewhat intermittently, for more than twelve months, and Is at the present time in active progress under the direction of Professor Maepero's ouoeessor, M. Grebaut. A tramway has been laid down from the Sphinx to the edge of the Pyramid plateau, passing close under the west faoe of the granite building popularly, though incorrectly, called the Temple of the Sphinx. Along this tramway light trucks convey the Band to the point at which their contents are discharged, the trucks being loaded by Arabs of both sexes and all ages, who carry the sand upon, their heads in large fiat baskets, ascending and descending all day long, from the ex cavations below to the tramway above, and vice versa The means look curiously in adequate, but tbe results are astonishing. Already the entire fore part of the great stone monster is laid bare, and already the huge chest, the paws, the space between the paws, the altar in front of them, and the platform upon which they rest are once more open to the light of day. Nor is this all. Between the Sphinx.and the edge of the Pyramid plateau, a vast space has also been cleared, thus bringing to view a fine flight of stops some forty feet in width. These steps, which are de scribed by Pliny, were uncovered by Caviglia in 1615, but have been entirely lost to eight for nearly twenty years. A second flight of stops and tbe remains of two Roman buildings were also found by Caviglia, and will again be brought to work in this direction.

To the right of the Sphinx—that is to say, I in the direction of tbe granite temple, to the southward—a further excavation ia in progress, the result of which will probably confirm the surmises of those who believe the Sphinx stands in the midst of a huge artificial amphitheatre hewn out of the solid rock. This gigatitic work would, of course, be contemporaneous with the Sphinx ,itself, which Mariette attributed to the mythic ages before the advent of Mena, the first king of the first dynasty, and which Maspero considers tabe 4 if not ac tually prehistoric ,%t all events the oldest monument Egypt. From the level of the area below the great flight of steps (which lead down, and not up, to the Sphinx) one _^ow measures tbe whole height of the huge human headed monster, whose battered oounte nanco stands out against the cloudless sky 100 feet above. The space between the paws is thirty-five feet long and ten feet wide. The space was anciently converted into a small sanctuary lined with votive tablets, only one of which — the famous stela of Thothmes IV—yet remains in situ. This stela records how the King, when upon one of his hunting expeditions, lay down to Test at midday in the shadow of the Sphinx. He there fell asleep, and dreamed a dream In which the venerable image conjured him to dear away the sand in whioh it was nearly buried. Then the Prince awoke and " made silence iv his

jliel. t," and vowed to' do that which the gfcd'hadcommandedi The lower part cf thia tablet is obliterated,,and W. M. Flin ders P'etrio; who visited the spot about a fortnight ago, rejibits'.tliat an important part of the fourteenth line, containing tbe name ot Khafra (Chephren),' has scaled off since the last time the inscription was, copied. Tbe tablet stands fourteen feet, high, and is cut from a block of the same red granite of Assouan whereof the neighbour ing Temple of Khafra is built. There seems, according to Mr Petrie's report, to be very good reason for concluding that the pious Thothmas, notwithstanding his respect fcr the memory of Kbafra, actually pilfered thii vjry block from Kbsfra's own temple, for in the back of it there are two pivot hole;, or rather "holes for letting in pivot blocks," precisely similar to tbe pivot holes which are to be seen in the lintel stone 3 and doorsills of that building. Tbe granite altar between the paws is of the same syenite, ami most probably came from the same convenient quarry. Th's last, however, is of Roman work, very roughly executed. The paws of the Sphinx as they now ap pear are a restoration of Roman date, being cased in comparatively small slabs and to some extent hollow underneath. The breaet of the Sphinx has likewise been faced with slabs apparently in Roman times, and these slabs have again been re paired by cutting away the weathered sur face and.inserting a fresh facing. Like the legs of the Colossi of the Plain and those of the great Etatues of Aboo SimbeJ, the paws of tbe Sphinx are covered with ,tho Greek scrawls of early travellers, bnt these graffiti are mostly of a late perioc", sited co slightly scratched that few are legi ble throughout. Such as they are, however, Professor Maspero has, it is understood, de voted himself to the ungrateful task cf translating them.

M. G rebnut's excavations arenotlimited to the clearance of the Sphinx only. Various interesting tombs have lately been dis covered in the vicinity of the Great Pyra mid, and to the westward the face of the Libyan cliff has been reached, where it forms the boundary of tbe pyramid plateau. Some good, early, rock-cut tombs, with built fore-courts, have been found io tbe face of this cliff, in two of which the walled up recesses or secret chambers called "serdabs," which were constructed for the safe-keeping of funerary portrait statues, are yet intact with their contents. One contains a monolithic group of four figures representing the deceased, his wife, his brother, and a child. In another has been i found a beautiful alabaster altar, sculp tared in bas-relief, with the likeness of one Ra-ur; and on the walls of another occurs tbe name of Aeeska f, the successor of Menkara( Menchores, of the fourth dynasty). By far the most interesting of these recent tomb discoveries is that sf the sepulchre of a certain "Buten Se," or "Royal Son," named Kubfu-kha-f (" tho glory of Khufu"), who was probably the son of the builder of the Great Pyramid. The doorway of the inner chamber of this tomb is decor atad in bas relief with the earliest repre sentation of a column yet discovered. The shaft is shown to be cylindrical, tapering slightly toward the top, where it ends in a ring surmounted by an everted capital, resembling the usual lotus capital, but without the graceful curvature of outline which distinguishes the lotus order. The base of the shaft is finished by a rounded drnm. In this interesting doorway we have the profile portrait of a perfect column, base, shaft, torus, and corner complete, thus showing that as an architectural feature the column, with all its members,' waa already fully developed at the time of the fourth dynasty. The celebrated tombs of Beni Hassan, in which occur the earlier, columns previously known, belong to the twelfth dynasty, and are about 1,200 years later than the era of Khufu.

Children of the London Poor.

Abrived on Caley-street, wo enter tbe school, and I proceed to pass in review a tatteidemalion congregation oi hungry children. In the girls' school I Bpoke to some twenty children, all of whom fully justified the last sentence. One, little Caro line, aged ten, and still in the first stand ard, although comparatively neatly attired, showed all Bhe had on, for beneath the dress there waa nothing but skin and bone. She bad eaten one slice of bread and buttc-i" eince yesterday, and there waa nothing for dinner at home. Her mother earned, I was subsequently informed, 4a a week, and paid 3s and 3d for rent, the balanoe being required to feed three children. An other child, Lizzie Gay, an exceedingly tiny child of seven, with a pretty, but very pale face, answered my questions very, pathetic ally. " Father sells fruit, but 'c don't make much. I ain't got no mother. Father's got two more besides me. . They're younger' than I am. I didn't get no dinner yester day jI do sometimes. I 'ad a slice for breakfast, lam a little ungry." This' child had nothing on bub a tattered dress and single petticoat. Maria Wood I found attired in a petticoat and no drees, her body 'being covered only by a woollen crossover, much the worse for wear.. "Do you dine every day ?" I asked this child of thirteen who has five brothers and Bisters. "No sir," comes the whispered reply: *'we 'aa dinner sometimes, but not every day.'' In the infanta' school I fin .Esther Lington, x tat tour and a half, who after much hesita tion confessed that she had a piece of dry. bread to day, and that ehe had a " tater " for dinner yesterday. And what are we'to say to Alice Harvey, who informs me that she " don't'ave not nothink for dinner on ' week days, but generally 's snmmat ,on Sundays"! ,or, if these be nob sufficient I will introduce the reader to Sarah Ellis ' aged eight, one of seven children, a walk! ing skeleton, with boots worse than useless and clothes in rags. At this school no fewer than forty-nine girls attended on the ; day of my visit without either hat or jacket The thermometer stood at 2° below freezing i Wrapped as I was, in heavy coat and muf fler, I felt cold. Many of these children tramp half a mile to school through tha' snow, which still remains uncleared in the slums of Stepney, and when, in addition, we take into consideration that the major ity are underfed, and a large proportion, come without any breakfast at alii' we begin ; to realise how the poor little children of tha East fare in the great metropolis.—"Lon don Globe.!' . . . y' •-'"•"

A CITY COURTSHIP.

The proper place for courting-, - ' * . By the story bookß'reporting. Is some lane or meadow pathway out of eight I With the sweetness blowing over , j 2l' oj _ . c flaMs ot beans and olover. And the skylark dropping westward as the sun goes down, »««. But I'vo met my little Sally At the mouth of Dawson's allay. - - As we w^keuaJong together toward the dome. !}fid the jostling crowd that nouses '"'.' _ Neath tho glaring lamps and gases boya' UiS_f °lUle dr'vew- andthenews- And the lily of the valley !fe' txr .That I gave my little Sally _o!s • PBDny btra,Wlßt that the fldwerglrl i She has never seen one growing '■._ ,A__l_ easytobeshowfia. ; For its gjthptoeia in DreamlaH that's beyond - Oh lit pains me in our walking— a a A"??. 08** and shameful talktofc And v^l___x^ r^i ***, w«-B_Uth_ , Ji«§i_SSJ^ *""""°^ «««ow_r k ,_fK.i!_ 3 .^wnntoypUoas. ■.■■■■:■:{.: _ , IMidtheSsMsandaimplefa^M. Out ot ■£** an . souna of evfi. u£t_ poor heart I fat It's here in London city. In the Bin, and shame, and pity; c. iw SsS__£«gg T tt__-______±^_+.^. I waa coars^and low. and selfish, aa the beast : But her grace began to win me. ' And my heart was changed within me. _v_%%. vias uom *** •»£§V "London Sfbotatob.

A CLEVER CAT.

I once had a cat who always sat up to the dinner table with me, and had his napkin round hia neck, and bis plate and some fish. He used his paw, of course, but he was very particular, and behaved with extraordinary decorum. When he had ' finished hia fish ,T sometimes gave him a '■' piece oLmine. One day he was not found when the dinner bell rang, ao we began without him. Just aa the plates were pa* i round for the entree, puss came ruahbur, ~ upstairs and sprang into his chair, witb § two mice in his mouth. | Before he could bv'-h stopped he dropped a mouse on. to his own ' plate, and then one on to mine., He divide* 7 his dinner with me as T had divided m__,fi; with him. _sg__sL

THE AUCKLAND EVENING STAB, SATURDAY, APRIL 2, 18S7.

3



Cant Preac. Good.—No man can do a good |ob of work, preach a good sermon, try a law suit well, doctor a patient, or write a good $r tide when ho feels miserable and dull, with oluggish brain and unstrung nerves, and none Bhould make the attempt in euch a oondition when it oan be so easily and cheaply removed by a little Hop Bitters. Look for.