A Heart's Bitterness

By BERTHA M. CLAY, Author of "For Another's S n," "A Fair Myetory," &o.

UUAITER L,

" A HUSK, BUB LIVBO AS IIOSKS LIVE." Tub auu that chinos on, over all human joy Vuid pain, had roachod and passed mid- TlOaveri, Tho insects whirred tirelessly on \\vi print c;i, but the biuU had stolen to tho foufy shinies, and I ho flowers droopod in the lioat, whrlo Violot still lay unfriondod in hor covort. She tossed and moaned, then began 'to babble in a fovored dream. Out upon the 'still air wont tho words of hor complaining : "Why does ho one care for me? Why 'do thoy all deceive me? Oh, I am so alo'no, bo alone! Inm lost nnd afraid Why don't I die 1"

i Thoeo moantoga reached, at last, a human oar. A woman, old and plain, but singu larly large^f rained, erect, and vigorous, a cottage woman, in a white cap, a chock lineey gown, and a .great white apron, was passing by. She stopped at tho unexpected sounds, thon followed whence thoy came, aad finally parted tho green branchoa, and iookod in on Violot in hor ferny nost. Strange pictur'o,, indeed, it waa that mot her eye—a daintily-dressed girl, tho dia ordered silken, robo, tho war,k of London's most fashionable mantua maker, the little boots, tho hat with its grey ribbons and small marabout blumo elegant in its simplicity, bad come from Paris. Tho hat liad fallen off, and Violoi'a dishovelled rings of dork, ahining hair framed a faco whore fever had returned to. the round <<hooke the r wonted roses, and tho red glow of tho lips—those ewee'fc lips, parted In wild moan ifl*?»""lhoTßd the whito TOWB of beautiful nttlo teeth, and Violet's great brown eyoa nxod on the stranger without sooing her, **ell,ed ever with tears.

...'"Goodness <-ayq us!" cried tho dame, 'who are you, my littlo pretty, and wherever did you como from ?' " Kenneth ! ivonneth ! Have you for gotten mo ?" cried Violot. Tho old woman bent down and moved Violet gontly That showed hor tho plush bag, embroidered with pansios, and a monogram and a coat of arms—these last ornamonta appearing to tho dame as " more embroidered quirliquos." But tho bag waa a rich one, and evidontly this stricken damsel wad the nursling of woalth and refinement.

" Whoever you aro, my dear," said tho old woman, "you need to bo taken care of quick and well, or into your grave you will go." She had gathered Violot up in hor strong nrms, as if the girl had been a mere child, and ehe did not negloct to slip tho handle of the big over her wrist, and tako the silk umbrella in her hand.

Not vainly had Mistress Magery Rogore boon called "the strongest woman in all Derbyshire.!' She carried her own Bixty years, and tho slender figure of tho Countess of Leijrh, as if both wore trifles, and with long, firm Bteps, she passed the hazel bushes, and turned into a narrow path, and so to a small thatched cottage, with diamondpanod windows, glittering like best plate, and nasturtium vines growing over tho low paling fence, until it seemed to eet tho houso in a flame coloured border. Here she entered. A great dog, groy and heavy with age, mot her, and also came a big tortoifo-cat. These wore her only retainers. A bed, with a white fringed counterpane, stood in odo corner, and on this the laid Violet, and began at once to undress hor, Aa she took off one article alter another of the dainty clothing, ehe exclaimod :

" Why, this must bo a princess at least I Did one ever see the like ? Sure, this petti coat is like a wedding-gown, and hero's one might be good enough for a christening robe"

She had hung up Violet's bag ani scorned to have no thought of looking into it, but when el) 6 wanted a nightdress, went to a chest of drawers thut stood in a corner, and took from it a gown carefully laid up in lavender. No nurso could bo more skilful nnd gentle than thia strong cottage damo, and under hor ministrations, Violet coolod, soothed, calmed, fell asleep.

The dame looked at her in her deep slumber—so fair, so helpless so like a little child—and shaking her head, sM :

"Here's a mystery. Howsoever, she must be well cared for; and as 1 need things from the 'pothecary and the shop, I'll go out again. I wondor if I shall meet any more lost princess ? Its like the fairy tales I used to tell the childien. Heaven Eend her sound sleep till I get back !" So, shading the windows, the dnmo wtnt out, gently closing tho door. Quiet, quiet, waa the warm May day, a true forerunner of tho summer. Violet had passed isto the second hour of her slumber, whon a stealthy step came around tho cot tage ; the door was softly puehed open, and a queer figuro entered the still room—a ehort, spare man, in a flannel dressing gown, carpet slippers, and with a velvet cap pulled forward to his bushy eyebrows- giv ing his face a singular, sinister appear ance. His beard was long and ragged, as if never visited by razor or scissors ; bis eye had the wild look of insanity.

He went straight to the dame's work basket : and not finding what he wishod, jerked open tho table-drawer. Tho noise woke Violet, whose slumbers had from childhood been carefully guarded. She lifted hereelf on one elbow—her beauti ful hair dishevelled over her shoulders—and seeing the strange, bumble cottage room, the coarse if clean bed, and the grotesque man, Bhe gave a scream. The man whirled about, and stood look ing at her, as if highly dolighted " Who are you ?" shrieked poor Violet. " The wolr, my angel, the wslf! and you are dear little Bed BidiDg, asleep in her grandmother's bed ! Your grandmother is out, isn't she ? Hope she'll never come back. Meanwhile I can eat you." Ho showed double row of great white teeth, gleaming from under bis moustacho, Violet had never seen anything ao hideous. She waa so frcz3n with horror that Bhe could neither movo nor speak. " See my head ! Handsome, ain't it!" cried the man, and snatchiDg off his cap, he showed a shaven portion of scalp with a great red fear across it. "Looks as if an Indian had got after me, don't it ? Where does your fool grandmother keep her knives ! Here's ono ! Shall it do for you, or for me, or for both of us !" Violet gave an agoniisng shriek. A loud and clear voico from without answered her : " Coming !'' The man dropped the knife and cropt under the table.

"How did you get here?" cried Dame Magery, dashing in and dragging him forth. " This was a time for you to break out! You're trickier than Satan, indoed you are." She marched him off—ho making no resistance. Presently Bhe returned to the trembling Violet. "He'ssafe.my dcario. He'll trouble you no more." "Oh, who is he? Who U ths fearful croature?' "Just a crazy man I'm in charge of. And he i 3 well shut in now. _ Fear him no tuoro. There, he is sent off" 11 But who are you?" aeked Violet, cling iug to the strong brown band. " I'm Dame Magery Kogcrd. I found you fallen in the field, and a bit feverish and light-headed, Come now-drink what is in this cup, and lio down to sleep. I'll not leave you. Tliero, my dear, you are as safe .13 a May. Lio there, and IM sing to you." She put Violet back on her pillow, and began the Ballad of Montroee. " Come hither, Hvan Cameron. CJomp, siand be ide my kute, I hoar the river nurins down Toward tho wintry s-o. I hoar the pioroch wa'iiai? Amidst the din of fight, And my dim spirit wukeß ttßEttia Upon the verge ol vhht." And as the verses crooned on, Violet fell asleep. She slept most of the time until next morning. When she awoke the episode with the crazy man seemed to her a dream of her fevered sleep. The dame waited on her with motherly care, and after she had eaten her breakfast, Violet lay back on her pillow, with a great sense of rest and comfort. Only there was that dream—or wae it a reality ? She spoke. " Will you please tell me if there is a horrible crazy man, or did I dream it!" " You've had many ill dreams," said ths dame, evasively. '"There's no one haro to harm you, my pretty ; you are safe." " How kind and strong you look !" said Violet; " but I seem to know your face —it looks familiar." " I used to be a nurse. My family are dead, and now I live alone!

" I should like to stay here -for a long, long whilo," said Violet. "Would you let me stay with you ? I will make you no trouble. I shall be quite well by to morrow, and I know well how to wait on myself."

" Where ia your mother, child ?" de> manded the old woman.

" Doad long ago, or I should have gone to her. I would not have needed to go away at all, if I had a mothor or father or anyone to lovo me or take care of mo.

"No ono to love you, my little dear. Sure thoro is eomo one who ought to love you well."

"Yes, but he doesn't; no one does. I don't know what it is in me, that no one can love, or be true to mo."

"But you should muko <iaoplo do thoir duty by you, my j_o O r little dear." "I can't—l'vo tried —it'a 1.0 ueo It. made mo so desperate, that I felt as if I must run away from them all. I liko it here, it is so quiet, and you look so kind and so true. Won't you let mo atay? I'll pay you. I havo eomo monoy. Tharo aro a hundred pounds in that bag hanging on tho back of your chair."

"A hundred pounds ! Savons! I nevor saw bo much money in my life at once 1" cried the old dame, jumping up and eying the bagjin awe.

"Oh, that is not much -but—it will takn care of me for a month or so, won't it ? Till I get strong, and earn more." " A month or two \ However havo you been living, child ?"

" Why, liko tho rest of people around mo, I piippoee. I never learned much, nor did much but amuse myfolf, nnd go about, and enjoy music, and flowere, and pictures, and tiuo things. I suppose it is as tho French say. " I havo beon a rose.and lived as roses livo, but I can do dif forontly."

CHAPTER LI,

"Oil, WHAT HAVE I DONE 1 WHAT HAVE 1 DOMK !" TUB old respectfully took the grey plash bag and laid it by, Violet's aide. Violot was roady to opon it at onco, say ins : " I will givoyou tho money ; only I muet got some changos of clothes, a very fow, not cottly ; nnd by tho time tho rest is gono I will earn eomo more. Pooplo do earn thoir living, nnd so con I—l can learn. You will tell mo. Aro there not ways ? It will not take much to support mo." " But it will be long boforo you can be gin, my dear." " Oil, no : I will bogin at onco—next woek. I can embroider, and mako lace ; and I could, teach music to little childron, maybe. Why, any young girl can sup port, hersolf. How much doo3 one need ?" ' "But two, my dear—two needs more." "Two, certainly. But there ig no ques tion of two —only of mo. Kate could do for herself. But if you will keep me, maybe I'd not send for Kate : so it is only one." " But there may be a little child, my dear." . "No, no;" spid Violet: " I've done hoping for that. It might liavs made things right: but it'a too late." " My dear, have you run away from your friends?" " Yes, I have. I could not endure tho de ceit, the—" "And will you tell mo your name, my dearie!"' "I'd rather not—only Violet." The dame shook her head. "My dear, you should go back, and set things right—if not for yoursolf, for tho child, you know." "But there isn't any child !" said Violet, pettishly. "But thoro will bo, my donrio, aftor a little. Surely you think of that. Surely you know that !" Violet seized her arm.

" Tell me !Do you mean—do you think I am to have a child ?—a little child ot my own ? Quick— speak ?" "Why, certain—euro, you know. ' But the little Countess of Leigh had fallen back in her pillows, covered her face with her hands, and burst ioto a flood of teara.

" Oh. what have I done V" 11 Huah, hush, my dear ! Don't tako on so ! Oh.pray think of tbo littlo child ! Be calm, my dear. You are so young, so sweet and pretty, purely you can make it all right. You will go back ; you will have justice done to you ; you will not bring shame on tliß little child : you will be married to tho father, my dear? 11l man ho must bo to de ceive a child like you ?"' But Violot had started up in bed with flaming eyes and a crimson face. She cried out:

■'How dare you ? What do you mem ? Ob, ho«- can you be so wicked ? Do you mean to say you think I am Dot nmriad !" "You have run away alone," said the old dame ; '■ your hand has no rinfr on it.' " Judged me by my rings ! Oh, you wicked woman, to think ill of mo just for that!" cried poor Violet furiously, tearing away in a frenzy at the plush bag, and tossing on tho floor tho laced night robo, and the soiled silk hose, and tho change of Cambric, and fluff of kerchiefs at ton shillings apiece, and then she shook tho hag out and rolled on the counterpane before the amazed old dame, a watch and chain, some sovereigns, a jewelled broooh, and a heap of rings. From these sho snatched two, the half hoop engagement ring and the unhappy shackle that had eealei her bitter fate at St. George's, nnd thrusting thorn on her linger, sho held out a litt'e quivering hand, crying : "Now you aro (atisfkd? I took off tho hateful things for foar of being robbfd ; but here they are, I hope you'll not think so ill of me ! And you may believe that my little baby will bo bb good a baby as ever wbb born in this world. I"

" Oh, my dear, my little dear !" said the dame, bending over her, " it joys my heart to hear this, for I have been sick of eoul for your care since I brought you in ;" and tears rolled over her cheeks.

Violet threw up her arms and clasped the wrinkled neck.

"Forgive me ! Please forgive me ! I will love you for ever. Are you sure, very Bure, about—about—"

" Yes, sure as snro, if you don't do your self an ill turn."

" But what have I dono ? Oh, what hove I done by running away." " You'll send for your frieDds and explain all, and no ono will blame you —they'll make all right for the child's sake, my dear. It will never do to keep on in aught that might shame or hurt your baby, my sweet. By these rich things, you como of good family."

Violet waa fumbling among her trinkets. She said :" I forgot; the money ia not here. It is sewed in my drees. I will do whatever you tell me. Mv husband doesn't love me ; but, for the child's sake, he ™>ay let me come back. Oh, I hope he will ! I don't want mv poor little child turned out of its rights."

" And now, my lovey, for the child's sake, you'll tell me your name, -won't you ?" " Oh, yes," slid Violet, readily. "lam Violet, Countess of Leigh, from Leigh Towera, Sußsex.'

But to her amazemont, the old dame flung herself over the bed, gathered her in her arms, rocked her on her bosom, and lamented ovor hor, and loverl her.

"Oh, my lady, my own sweet lady! Ob, my dear little mi=tresß ! Thank God, who Pont you to me, mv dea>- !" "But who are you?" said Violet, whon the dame's eager words gave way to sighs and p-ilsnce.

"My dear lady purely knows Adam Moreland ?"

" Lord Leigh's valet ? Indeed yes—good old Adam "

"I am his twin pipfer Magpry, nnd I lived at the Towers till I was eightoorj, nnd came away with Lady Fanny Leigh when she married, aud now I live on a pension she left me. Acam has told me about tho Bweet young larly my lord married ; and, indeed, my dour lady, I guessed as much as you wore not happy, but 1 nover rlreamod it would come to that you should fly away by yourself, sick and miserable, with only what you carry in your hand. Sorely, my lord is not so cruel to you as that ?"

'" No, no. I we all, Mapery ;it is my own fault " I have been hasty, and foolish, nnd impatient. Oh, I h.ivo been wrong. I have thrown all away I" "No, no. my dearie!" said tho old womnn, soothingly • " M v lord will be most anxious for you, and for fear for the child

" But he does not know about that, nor did I" " Then, my Indy dear, aa soon as he hearß of that he will be proud and kind, and never be a word anery for your running off. The hop 9of the little ono will be your peace making. No doubt you w<>re a weo out of your head when you wpnt." " No, n \ I was not," Raid Violet, seizing rhs hond of the old family retainer, and prmrinc on* »H her heart ; " huh I was fo wretched aoH lonely. Mv hnsb.inrl does not love me, and his words Bud look" hurt ire ; and I feel 83 if all my friends were forget ting me. And then, there was one-she seemed to be my friend-ehe kept urging me to go."

"The wicked sinner !"J broke out Dame Margery Rogers. " She had her own pur pose in it, I'll be bound." " I've no doubt sha did. Sho was as false as the rest. She promised to meet me, and she did not ; she left mo to be forlorn and loet, looking for a place that never was; and eho will put Norman against me." " Hmh, my dearie, don't vex youraolf. Nothing will put him against you, with a child looked for. The Loigha are won dor ful anxious for continuance, always."

" Yes, Norcuan is very desirous of a son," said Violot.

" And a son there will be," said the dame, courageously. "Such a beauty as never was, I'll bo bound."

But poor Violet must pour out her whole story.

" It wua not Lord Leigh alone, Magery, that drove mo wild. It was—there waa a lady—such a lovely girl 1 had come to love moro than I ever did anyone else in my life but ono ; and she docoitfeS mo, in hor name and her friendship, and all. If Edna Am brose had not decoivod mo, I could have ondurod, Oh, Edna ! Edna ! how could you be co cruel ?"

"But you muet be quiet, my doar lady ; and hark mo — Miaa Ambrose never do ceived you, jure. Some one has lied about her It ia not in her to deceive you, sure. Some one has lied about.hor. It is not in hor to deceive. She is like an angol out of heaven. You could trust hor to the world's end. My lady, Adam and I are dear to each othor: and wo write long, long lettors, and ho comes twice tho yoar to see me, and knowing ms true to tho house of Leigh, and never ono to talk out of it, he lias told me| many things, else ho would Dot mention. I can toll you tho whole story of Miss Ambrose, my lady dear : and you'll see sbo could not doceivo anyone, nor come between husband and wife."

Thon Uamo Magery sat down by the bed, and placing Violet comfortably on hor pillows, sho smoothed her hair and fanned her, and in a low, pleasant voice, with tender boko and words, she told the story o! Edna Ambrose ; of all she had been and wished to bo, as old Adam knew all, who had often seen hor, who distributed her bounty to country nnd city poor, and who rerorenced ovon tho shadow of the boauti rul nnd gracious girl. Whon tho atory was ended Violot gavo a deep Bigh.

'■ Damo, how rash and wrong I have beon. Bring mo paper and pen, and I will writo to Edna to eomo to mo."

"No, my doario j writo mo n telegram out, nnd I'll go to Bolpor with it this blessed hour."

{To be Continual.)

TWO KEYS: OR Margaret Houghton's Heroism

Br MRS GEORGIE SHELDON,

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

j»vo- Tjride," " Audroy'B Rocomponao," SCO.

CHArTER XXXVII. A fox IK HIS OWN THAT.

Fok nn instant ho eeoined paralysed ; a look of blankest surprise ecttlcd over his faro, which took on tho huo of death ; a cold sneat camo out upon his forehead, and a norvouß trembling pervaded hia frame. "Thunder and lightning! Whoro did you got that ?" he at last exclaimed, aghast. " That is a quostion which I no not feol disposed to discuss just at present," Louis composodly roturned. " How on oarth Who has been here Nobody could got in—l can't undoistand !'• Arthur gasped. "No, you cannot understand, and I do not intend to enlighton you. It is a self evident fact, howovor, that I hold in my hand a Colt's revolver, with which I intend to do good service for myself."

" That moans, Ji suppose, that you intend to kill me ?'

" I will spare you upon one condition," Louis answered, still covering hi? captor with that formidable weapon. " What i» that?" questioned Arthur, to gain time, but knowing well enough what it waa "That you release me from this place in stantly." " And if I refuse " "The consequences will lest upou your own bead." " You would bo no better oft'if you should shoot me. I should lie hero and rob, and you would starve," Arthur retorted with an air of desperation. "Your proposition sounds conclusive ; but you are mistaken," Louis quietly replied. "Allow mctoinform you that I have here the means of releasing myself, in the form of a steel file and saw, made expressly for cutting iron ; but 1 do not chooso to spend either my strength or my time to effect my own rcloaso in that " I don't believe it," cried Arthur In credulously. With his eye still Dxed upon tho man now in hia power, and the revolver pointing directly at his hoad, Louis unbuttoned his coat, and with his left hand drew forth tho implements of which^he had apokon. Arthur's face grew almost wild in its ex prnseion of fear and astonishment. " Heavens ! Who hae dono this ? Who has been here? Tho dogrs were safely locked when I camo. It is all a mystery to me," he said, in a savage tono. " Unlock the gate of this place and let me out," commanded Louie.

Arthur hesitated, even though he felt that bo waa absolutely helpless, while he inwardly cursed himself for coming to the place unarmed ; but then who would ever have dreamed of anything like this occur ring? "Como," reiterated Louis, in an impera tive tone ; " you may be very sure that I mean business ; as you have already re marked.. ' I have too much at stake' just now to be very tender-hearted toward* you " Ono look into his stern face and blazing eye convinced Arthur of that. And yet. in spite of all, he hated to givo in, and stood irresolute. It was terrible to h»ve all his schemes frustrated in this un expected way, and juet at a time, too, when everything waa promising ao much. Slowly and awfully those threatening sounds fell upon Arthur's ears. "Hold!" he cried. "If 1 will tell you where that money is- if I throw up every thing and swear to leave the country, and nover cross your path again, will you lot me go?" He was actually shivering, and his face twitching from nervous excitement, and pearly crushed with humiliation at thus being obliged to reverse tho conditions that ho had tried to make with Louie only o few moments before. " Four—fi " " Unlock that gate," thundered Louis. " Will you permit me to go unmolested if I let you out?" Arthur parleyed, and glancing helplessly towards the door. " I promise nothing," Louiß returned, relentlessly. " I shall count five ;if the gate is not unlocked on tho last number, I tire." " Blast you ! curse you ! This ia too much—just as my victory seemed com plete I" groaned the captor, who was now oven more helpless than the man whom he had hold in bis power so long. " One—two-three—" "Stop, stop—for Heaven's Fake! I'll unlock it.!" he almost shrieked, a?, looking into Louis's blazing eyes, he saw there was not so much aa a shadow of relenting in them. . " Put down that revolver," ho continued, in a|ehoking|voicp, "lean do nothing with the muzzle pointing at me that way." " No, I shall not put it down—l shall cover you ; }on are perfectly safe if you do as I tell you. But if you mako a bolt for the door, ac I see you aro meditating, look out for yourself," waa the significant re sponse. , . , , Arthur groaned aloud ; too plainly for his own comfort, he paw that he had no weak character to deal with, and, with trembling hands and a face that was ghastly in its whiteness, he drew from one of the pockets of hia coat a key of brass, which ho proceeded to insert in the ponderous pad lock which fastened Louis's prison, and turned it in the lock. , The sound was like the sweetest music in Lo"i3'i ears. „ " Hemove the lock and open the gate, he commanded. Obediently his foe did as he was told, and Louis walked forth a free man once more. A long breath of relief and thankfulness escaped him. "Now, I will take all the keys belonging to this place, if you please," he said, holding out his left hand for them

"I will let you out when 1 go," Arthur said, trying to epoak calmly, but glancing almost wildly about him. "j The keys, "ropeated Louis, in an inflexible tone. "Now,"' he continued, aa he received the keys, "we will change plaues for a whilo; you go behind those bars and eoe how you like the life that / have led during the last fow weeks." , "Morcy!" cried Arthur in despair, and clutching frantically at the massivo grating before him, "You do not moan ib—you cannot bo so rolcntloss." " Hut I do moan it—quick ! I shall wntte no time upon you." The despairing man saw (hat there was , no reprieve.

With a dejected air and a pinking heart bo slunk iusido the place whore his own victim had so recently beon incarcerated, and dropped weakly upon a chair. Louis quickly closed the gate upon him, returned the padlock to its place, locking it securely, und pocketed the key. Thia accomplished, his own strongth

eoomoii to fail him, and ho, too, sank into a seat to rest and recover himself. His nerroa had been strained to their utmost tonsion during tha last half hour, and now he was free and all personal danger past, the money safe for ho boliovod it was safo, oven though ho did not know where it was—and the thief locked up, tho oiction followed At iiret ho could hardly realise his good fortune; it soemed almost an exciting dream - tho events of tho last two days— and, had it not beon for Margaret's thought fulness in bringing hor father's revolver to him, it might havo taken him several days to saw those bare and work himself free ; meantime tho cunning roguo would havo (led with his spoils, the money would have been lost, while his story would novor havo boon credited by lnlf tho people who would hear it ; he would always havo boen an ob ject of suspicion, nud his honour vaniahod for all timo. But now he had tho teal rogue safe, and ho could make his own terms with him. Aftor resting a whilo, his strength began to return to him in a measure, and with tho new hope that wa; beating strong within him ho felt roady to undortako almost any- ] thing for troafuro he had lost. "Now, sir." ho raid at length to Arthur, who was sitting in sullon silence, his hoad bowed upon his hands. " I am going to find out what you havo done with that money."

" Aro you, really ?" was tho sarcastic ro tort.

" Yes ; will you toll mo what you havo dono with it ?" " No j" with an oath, " Vory well," Louia returned quiotly, and apparently not in tho least disturbed by his refusal. Ho rose and moved toward tho door. " What are you going to do '"demandod Arthur.

" 1 do not feel obliged to oxplain my movements or plans to you," coolly replied Louis.

" Gome, Dunbar, can't wo compromise this matter?" Arthur askod, in a concilia tory toue ; "if I will mako a clean breast of ovovything to you, will you lot mo out of this and givo mo timo to oscapo tho country ?" " No." "If I will give you a written confession to take to tho authoritiesl, will that movo you ? It is vory mom to take advantage of a follow this way."

" Oh, you begin to eoe it in that light now."

Arthur flushed angrily. " You may not twit mo," he muttered. "Your father has boon arrested for tho crime, and, as I understand you aro not vory fond of him, and have wanted to got rid of him, this would bo a good way to do it."

" My fathor arrested I" Louis cried,

" Yea ; he was run down this morning or laat night. It camo out that ho had bcon trying to bleod you pretty freely, and that you had rofusod his demands ; co suspiuioa naturally foil upon him."

" And you think I would lot an innocent man eullor for your crime!" Louis indig nantly oxclairaod.

" hmcKnl ? when 1 o lias boon up to Buch things all hie life. I had no idea you woro so fond of the gontleman gamblor," retorted Arthnr, with a dorisivo lnugh.

" Whatever ho may havo dono in tlio pait, ho ia guiltless of this crime," Louis snid, etornly, "and you greatly mistake my character if you imagine I would entortain tor a moment your nefarious pro posal. 1 will make ho conditions with you. I havo you just whero I want you, and I shall pursue whatovor courso I may think best. At all events you may remain just whore you are for the present." " You may keep me haro until I starvo, or you may givo me up to the authorities with in an hour; but J will nnver rlivulgo the secret you aro so anxioua to learn," Arthur declared, driven to do?poration, " you shall ncixr havo the satisfaction of restoring that money to your company. ' "We ahull see about that," responded LouU, in an unmovod tone. " I'erhsps 1 shall even ferret it out myfolf, since 1 am convlncod that, like myself, it is concoalcd in this building." " Ha ! whot makoa you think that?"

Louis was watching him intently, and noticed his aurpriee and alarm. Thoy con firmod his suspicions."

'•I am right," ho said to himsolf with a thrill of triumph, "It is hidden here." " Your own movemonts havo made mo think so," he raid aloud " I have listoncd to your footsteps, and I am sure that you bavo not lingered in this ompty building simply for tho walking about." " Much satisfaction may you derivp from that theory," muttered Arthur, mockingly ; but his tone was constrained.

Louis turned again toward tho door, which ho unlocked and passed out into Iho rcom beyond, leaving his victim to his own bittor reflections.

C'rAPTE'f, XXXVIII.

A STKUUOLE FOU LIBKKTV

Meanwhile, Louis was diligontly searching for the hiding place of the missing money. The rooms, as we know, woro baro and empty - not a thing in them to conceal any thing ; while, carefully examining tho floor?, he could see no evidence of a single board having been removed from its place. Thoro was a closet in tho outer room and ono leading from the landing at the head of tho stairs ; but upon exploring these ho was confronted only by bare walls, empty drawers and shelves, and all fe3toonod with cobwebs, and musty from dampness. He descended to the lowor room, only to find the same unpromising prospect before him thoro.

Under tho stairs, howover, ho found a long deep closet. Entering this, ho began to investigate. Like tho others abovo, it was empty aad bare, but at hia foot ho saw a trap door in tho floor Raising thii ho saw another flight of stairs, leading, aa ho conjectured, into tho cellar.

It was rather late,'he thought, to attempt to explore such a place that day, and ho finally returned to tho room whero ho had left Arthur to wait un.il morning.

Ho found him pitting as ho left him, sullen and despondent. He looked up, however, with a doftant toss of his head and a muttered oath, as Louis entered.

" I supposed you hnd gono and loft mo to my fato," ho eaid, after a moment. " Oh, no ; I intend to pass the night hero with you. I do not intond to phow myeolf in public until I know Bomethinn definite about that monov, and I shall make a thorough soarch of theeo preiniess for it."

" It will be a pity to havo bo much labour loft "

" It will not be labour lost," Louis re turned. "I am sure that it is somewhere hero, tt in my belief that you came hero to-night to remove it to a place of pafety— perhaps to take it to some other country to deposit it whero you could draw upon it without attracting suspicion." " ' Plato, tbou reasonest well,' " was the f.ireastic response, as the young man paußed in these reflections.

Louis paid no attention to his ill humour, but, seating himself upon a chair, be de posited his revolver upon the floor bepido him, and began to inepect the package that Arthur was in tho net of passing to him whon he fnund himeelf confronted by tho muzzle of Louis' weapon. It contained some fresh rolls, from which be began So feed himself, as fee was hungry and faint, after the excitement of recent events.

Having at length eaten sufficient to ap pease his appetite, he drew forward another chair for his feet and made himself aa comfortable as circumstances would allow. In this position ho succeeded in catching an occasional nap, and thus the Dight passed and tbo rooming of a new day dawned.

Louis nwoko at an early hou', and, re freshing Mm?clf with tome of the roll* loft over from the previous night,stole as quietly as possible from the room and began again his Honrch for tho lost treasure. Hia first venture waa to mount into tho third atory ; but this was aa bare a3 the rooms below.

He kept on to the attic, but here the dust upon tho floors had not boon diaturbod by even so much aa i» foot-print, and ho know that it would be useloss to waste any timo in looking about among th« rafcars and beams. He then descended to the Grst floor again, where ho removed the trap leading to the collar. Ho cropt down tho narrow stair-way and found himself in a large, open collar, running undor the wholo of that portion of the building, Horo ho dotorminod to examine ovory inch of ground to fee if it had beon dis turbed ; and every stono iv tho wall, with tho same end in view.

Tho momunt the door was closed and luokod nflcr Lonia, Arthnr Aspinwall sprang from l)ia cuuah, inuttorirjg a malediction upon hirt foe, and began to loolt wildly about him for some moans of escape. On two sidos of him there wore thoso im passiblo iron b-.irs faatouod into the iloor at tho bottom, and running up into a beam above tho ceiling. It was impossible oven to stir thorn, though ho throw his whole weight against them, hoping that some of them might be loosened in that way. But ho found himself powarless in that direction. On the other two sidos of his placo of imprisonment, there wero only bare walls that had been painted somo noutral tint.

Suddenly his face lighted, ns hia eyo caught tho gleams of a substantial-looking knifo and fork upon his tublo. "1 wondor if I could cut through this plastering, thon whittle through the ltttha, thus milking my way into another portion of the liuildiiiy, and oscapa in that way," he muttered. Ho pounded upon tho wall with hia fist na if to ascertain what ho would have to contond against : but it only gave forth a dull thud that did not appoar very promis ing. "If I could havo time enough I boliove I Could do it,'' ho murmured; "but it ho ehould take a notion to deliver me up with in a day or two, I ehould have all my labour for my pains. Howover, it will do no harm to try." 110 pullod out his loungo from the wall nnd marked off v placo to bogln opera tion?. ...

" If I could mako a holo I could conceal tho debris undor tho lounge, and ha would never Buspoct my purpoeo; ho is down in tho collar, and cannot hoar mo plainly, and," with a littlo dorifivo luugh, " ho may hunt thoro for his troasuro until doomsday : moanwhilo I will not be idlo ; this kind of lifo is maddening to n-.0." 110 foil to work at once; marked oil a square M-hich ho thought would be large enough to allow him to creep through, and thon began to cut into tho plastoring. Ho coon found that it would not bo bd dillicult as ho had at first imagined; o couplo of hours would euilice to take away tho wholo cquare. This discovory so oncourogod him that he stopped for awhilo to oat somothiag, for ho wob very hungry His aiipotito was excellent, and ho partook hoartily of the food that ho had brought for LouU. " What an idiot ho was ! ho said to hirnsolf, while making bifl broakfast; "ho might have done tliia very thing—worked his way out and escaped me aftor all. Strange that ho did not think of it! but, blaVt mo ! ho, and whoever has helped him, hae boon cunning onough at the: r other If lie could have known of another holo, not threo foot from him, where Loui», not so idiotic aftor all, had himself laboured for long, weary hours for his liborty, only to find himsolf ooming out against a hugo liro proof wall that cxtondod from oollar to roof, hi* spirits would not havo boeri ho buoyant aa they appeared to bo over his brill'ant (?) idea. Having oaten all ho wished, ho resumed hi.H labour and worked bueily for two or three hours, taking caro to koop all hie rubbi«h in a compact pile, whore ho could hastily conceal it by wheeling tho lounge back into pluco if lio should hour a.iyono coming. Midday camo, and with it Louis, to strongthon himself for bid aftcrnoo-j'ts work ato «hat remained of hts rolls. Everything in the room was apparently just as ho had loft it in the morning, whilo Arthur was iyinunt full longth upon his couch, oiflior a?loop or feigning to bo so — ho could not tell which. 110 had not boon encouraged by Ills own work that, morning ; ho had not found a tr»co of anything to show thatany ono had boon into tho collm for an unusual purpose ; but ho had not expeotod that puccese would attond him all at once, and ho had nointon tion of relinquishing it until ho lmd boon, as ho said, over overy inch of ground Ho ato his meagre dinner in eileiico, and fien betook himself again to his work.

As soon an he was gono Arthur sprang up to rcsuino his own operations. Ho had succooded in removing all (lit plastering, and now began to work upon the lath?.

This was nut .so 0.-ifly, for they wuro tough nud hii knifa wa» dull. Ho triod his pookot-knifo, but broke it in cutting tho lirst ono, and was forcud to go back to tho other. For moro than an hour he toilod tlili genl ly, but his success was not encouraging. llii hands woro lamed and blistered, but that was of no omecquonco oompared with tho object in view. A 3light noiao in tho room boyond atartlod him.

Ho paused, but could hoir nothing, lie was about to resume his work, whon he was sure that ho hoard somo ono cautiously in eorting a key in tho lock o' hia door. Ho had not hoard Louis como upstairs, and it »ai not liko him to exorciso so much care.

Perhaps it was tho privato dotcctivo, whom ho imigined to be in league with him.

His heart boundod into his throat at tho thought. A.i quickly and as noiselossly a? he could ho aro*o from his knees, brushed the lime from hid clothing, and pushed the lounca back to its placo, thus concoaling the rub bish ho had made.

Tho next moment tho door swung slowly and silontly on iks hinges, pushed by some unseen force on the outside.

(To be Continued)

China's Great Wall.

Ok course we had to go to the great wall of China, pays the Peking correspondent of the Davenport "Demoeia1:." China ntounde in great walls. Her mural defences wore mo=t extcnsivo—walled country, walled citiefl, walled villages, wullo 1 palaces and templos- wall after wall and wall within wall. But the greatest of all is tlie groat wall of China, which crests tho mountain rnopea and crosses tho gorgo from here eome^forty miles away. Squeezing through the last deep gorge and a deep rift in the solid rock, cut out by agO3 of rolling wheels and tramping foet, we reached tho great frowning, double dab tionod ;»ate of stone and hard burnod bricks ono archway tumbled in. This was tho object of our mission— tho great wall of China, built 213 yoars before our era ; built of groat sluba of well hewn stono, Liid in regular courses some twenty feet high, and then topped out with largo hard-burned bricks, tilled in with earth and closely paved on top with more dark, tawny brick - tho ramparts high and thick and castellated for tho use of arms. Kighfc and left tho grreat wall ppran'j far up the mountain side—now straight,now curved, to moot tho mountain ridge, turrotted each 300 feet-a frowning structure built to keop the warlike Tartars out—2s feet high by forty thick, 1.200 miles long, with room on lop for six horses to be driven a>>rercst. Nor need I tell you that for 1.400 years it kept those hordes at bay. Dor that in the main the material used upou it is just an good and firm and strong as when put in plice. Twelve hundred miles of this gigantic work, built on the ruggod craggy mountain tips, vault ing over gorges, spanning wido streams, netting tho rivor archways with huge, hard birs of copper; with double gate?, with swinging doors and bars Bet thick with iron armour- a wonder in tho world, before which the old-time classic seven wonders, all gono no.v (save the great pyramid), were toys. The great pyramid has 55,000,000 cubic feet, the great wall 6,350,000,000 cubic feet As engineer in Steward's party, hero some years ago, gave it as his opinion that the cost of this wall, figuring labour at tho same rate, would more than equal that of all the 100,000 miles of railroad in the United States. The material it contains would build a wall fix feet high and two feet thick right straight around tho globe. Yet this was done in. only twenty yearE, without a trace of debt, or bond. It is the greatest individual labour the world has ever known.

A DUEL WITH SWORDS.

A Hard Fight for the Richest Holros In Virginia.

A despatch from Alexandria,Virginia,saye: —Mrs Honry Novil, nee Dulaney, the richest heiress in Virginia, has taken up her residence in this aristocratic old town for the winter. Sho is often seen on the streets with hor husband, tho handsome young Irishman who won her at tho point of the sword, and tho pair are much admired. Thoir presence here has sot people to talk ing about tho fnmons sword con te?t in which Nevil shoved him self to be tta finest fencer in tho South, and by which ho won hie brido and great wealth, It occurred some ton years ago Mise Dulaney wan then the belle of thU pirt of Virginia. llor father, (Jol. IIa! Dulanoy, was worth 5,000,000d01a., and the daughtor was to inherit half of tho amount As iho was beautiful as well a» wealthy, there woro many suitors for her hand. Among thorn, the two most favoured wero a young Englishman named Randolph, who was an ofllcer in hor Majesty's Household Guards, and Henry Nevil, an Irishman, who had fought in tho French and Aua triao armios Both were handsome, manly follows, though not burdened with riches, and for a time their chances seamed about equal. It soon bocamo evident that thoy hatod each other vory cordially, and all tidowater Virginia eagerly awaited tho rosult of the contort for Miss DuUnoy's smiles As both wero very high-temporod and familial with tho use of weap> n , the lady had a hard timo to keop them from venting their hatrod in a bloody war. Still, with a girl's coquotry, she led them on,, showing no docidod proforenca for either, and sometimes appearing indifferent to both. One ovoning tho throo woro in tho drawing-room to gother. Tho rivals addressed each other only when absolutely nocepsary, and then with smothered anger in their tones.

Finally Miss Dulaney got tired of that sort of thing, and said laughingly : " Why don't you go out and have a good fight in stead of snarling at each otil^r always 1" " We will do it," they exclaimed in one breath. Tho lady continued the conversa tion in a bantering tone, not dreaming that tho men wero in oarnest. Next day, how ever, she diacovored that thoy had actually adopted her laughing suggestion. When the rivals loft tho house they at onco arranged the preliminaries for a duel. A meeting-place was selected just off the Dulaney ostato, tho timo fixed upon was tho following morning at sunrise, and swords were chosen as weapons. At the time agreod upon thoy met, with thoir seconds, and there ensuod the most bloody duel that has ever takon place on Virginia soil. It was evident from the beginning that Nevil wag tho moro oxperl swordsman on account of his experience in the French army, llon dolph handled the sword well, too, but lacked the grace and facility of movemont of hia opponent. Moreover, the English man was very much excited. As they faced each othor day thoy exchanged glances, which meant plainly a fight to tho death. Thoy sot to, Randolph striking fiercely and wildly at hid enemy, while tho Irishman coolly took tho defence, parrying hie blnwa with easo and awaiting his chance for a thrust. It came at last, and ho noatly removed a largo piece of Ran dolph's oar. Tho pain seemed to madden tho Englishman, and ho bore down on his enemy with indiscreet desparation. Novil quietly got in another strike which mutilatod tho Englishman's noeo. Tho roat of tho fight was rough and tumblo on Randolph's part, while Nevil not for a inornont lost his presence of mind. Ho finally disabled the Englishman by get ting in a thrust on hia sword arm. He did this moroly to provont downright murder, for ho knew that ho could take Randolph apart pioco by pieco without injury to him polf, and ho know, too, that Randolph would dio rathor than yield as lon* as he could hold a sword. Miss Dulanoy wan sorry for Randolphs misfortune but she emiled more than evor on Nevil, whoni.it turned out, she had loved nil (ho timo. Throo months afterwords Kindolph roso from his sick bud dish'gurod for lilfo, left tho country, and has not been heard from einco. About tho eamo timo Nevil and Mis.i Dulanoy woro murriod.

A Young Husband's Delicate Errand.

Tiik attendants in dry-goods floros aro oflcn nmusod by customors who am [•.shamed to namo tho articles they havo como to purchase. A cbatty brunette, a (saleswoman in ono of tho most popular store in tho metropolis, describon a quaint rcono which will bo quite interesting to young \rivos : " Hardly a day pause* but that a man comes into our store on eomo ridiculous domestic mis'ion, fluttering himeolf that he is a good follow for taking tho matter out of his wifo's lian I, and not realising that thoro is a vory little dillerenoo between a .'ood follow and a fool. The dividing lino is very slight The other day I was startled by hearing a masculine voice at my ear ai 1 was leaning over some account", which I was vainly trying to balance. This ia the conversation that ensued between

"Have you any outfits?1' whispered

he. , „ "'Of course. What kind ? " 'Outfits. You know what I moan— b-bsby's outfits.' " I looked at tho young man. Ho had the rod faco I begin to know so well Of course ho immediately stammered out: ■ i [ want thorn f-for m-mv sister's little fa boy.' Then I know that this poor little follow was married Married men always want baby's clothes for their eisters' little boys It's inevitable. They seem to bo asuamod to bo suspected of having babies of their own. "' Shall I begin with tho bootcos V 1 asked

" ' What are they ?' •' 'Oh, boots or shoos. A bootee is a little boot. Perhaps, however, your wife—l mean your aiater-enn make them borself.' '"Why, nno. I-I don't think I—IVo over Beon - 1 moan ever heard of her d-d oing

" 'Well, then,' said I,' theeo are excellent. How raauy needlework dresses shall I put iv?' ,

" ' Will twelve do, do you think I 1 he asked, doubtfully. ' Porhapa two dozen will bo bnttor. I—l don't know anything about it, I'm ture !' Thero wero tears in his " ' Twelve is a largo numbor,' said I, aff ably, ■ and as they co?t Bdol. each, it eeeins to mo that COJoI would bo an unnecessary oxpondituro. Suppoeo wo put iv four dresses.' "That poor young fellow was the greenest specimen 1 havo over dealt with. Ho posi tively wanted to buy tho baby pocket-hand korchioffl, and I had to impress upon his mind with coneidernblo care that infants do , io t W ear collars. He had plenty of money, but, I felt it wai my duty as a woman to prevent him from spending it all upon a baby, who would never appreciate it. I think ho was grateful for the efforts I made in his bohalf. He Binilod upon mo very be nignly, and whon ho had paid hia bill— 45- ho voluntoerod the information that tho child wus his own, and that ho was going to surprise Mb wife."

How He was Roused.

Bufhon Oio trro.il French naturalist, had ono constitutional infirmity whict. soriously intoiforod with his studios —ho would sleep lnt.e into the morning. Aftor trying several -jiana to conquer thi*, aud finding that, though thoy Feemed ctfoctlve, they did not overcome hia habit-, ho adopted the following. The valet who attended him waa strictly enjoined to rouse him in the morning, aud not to desist until ho had thoroughly awakened and induced him to rice. All tho efforts of the valet ftiiled, however. To his mortification und chagrin, tho naturalist found him?elf dny aftor day waking to self-reproach and the sonse of time lost and oppjrtunities of study gono by. He bitterly accused hia servant of neglecting hia orders by allowing him to Bleep. " But, mnsieur," replied the man, "you are co augry with mo when I call you !" " What of that ?"

" You abuse and drive me away ; you command, throaten. It paina me. lam ashamed to persevere, and dare to torment you no longer." " Have I not told you many times," ex claimed BuffoD, "not to mind my anger, not to listen to my threats V" " Yeß, moneieur." " Have I not ordered you to rouse me, shake me, pull mo out of bed ?" " Yes, moaeieur."

:' Stay !" added the philosopher, as a new idea occurred to him. "Enry morning that, you huvo mo up ah tho desired hour I shall roward you with ft deceur. Ten minutes buyond that, aud not, a sou do you touch " From that day forth the valet gained money, the master time, and posterity in struction.

Man-Eating Tigers.

Tiie following is from an article by the Eav. J. G. Wood in " Good Words : — Restricted to Southern Asia, the tiger is brought into much closer contact with civilisation than v the lion of Africa ; and, inconsequence, " man-eating" tigers are far more common than lions which possess the same terrible habit. Tho population of Asia is much more dense than that of Africa, while the char actor of tho vegetation is such that it affords shelter to the tiger almost on the

very borders of the villages. The causes for tho practice of man-eating are the same a3 thoso which atfect too lion.

Wero it not for the presence of civilised man, with his flocks and herds, a tigor could never reach old agi\ Its etiffoning or rather failing limbs would no longer onablo it to capture the doer and O'her active animals which aro its natural prey, nor could its blunted teeth tear the dead cireasos in pieces. It would become more and more feeble, and, in the coureo of nature, would creep to some retired spot, and there breathe its last.

But the proseneo of civilised man gives it a longer lease of life. For some time it can haunt the outskirts of the villages, picking up a stray ox or goat, and so sustaining life, as the infirmities of ago make themaelvea felt, even so slight an exertion becomes too burdensome, and the animal finds that an old woman or child who has strayed from

the shelter of the house is a still easier prny. When onc3 established in either of tho?e stages of artificial life, the tiger becomes the moat torrihle foe which the mind of man can conceive. In the graphic language of Colonel \V. Campbell, "a confirmed man eater always larks in the neighbourhood of villages, or close to some well frequented road, and rarely preya upon any other animal but man. When a tiger thus quarters himself almost at the doors of the inhabitants, a curse has indeed fallen upon them. The ryots can not cultivatn their fields but at the risk of their lives. The women dare not fetch water from the well. The perse cuted labourers, returning at sunset from the r daily toil, may be soon hurrying along wi h hoadlong speed, and uttering loud yells in hope of scaring their bidden foe. Peace and security are banished from that devoted village. Day after day some member of the little community disappears — the land is filled with mourning, and the death-lament comes swelling on tho evening broQzs, instead of the gay notes of the zittar and the merry laugh of light-hearted maidens. The des troying fiend revels in blood, and becomes daily more open in his attacks." In one district only, that of Kandeish, the officer in command reported that during his four years' tenure of the post the tigers killed annually an average of ninety human being?, and six thousand cattle. An old man-eater develops an amount of cunning which is simply appalling. It never remains for any length of time in one place, but incessantly travels from one vil lago to another, concealing itself with the utmost art, carrying off one of the inhabi tants, and immediately making its way to some distant spot. A single tiger has been kr.own to piralyse a triangular district of some forty miles in extent. The natives feel themselves powerless, and all they can think of is to offer rice to their numerous divinities. Their only real

hope lies in the European, whom they despise and abhor as an unbeliever, but r* epect for his power?. Mounted on trained elephants, and guided by native trackers, mostly belonging to the Bheel tribe, the English hunters tirst discover the beast in its hiding place, and then destroy it. Not until it becomes a man eater is a tiger much dreaded, especially in the ca*e of those natives who do not possess flocks or herds. Indeed, when an Englishman has offered to kill a tiger whose lair was well known, he haa boen requosted not to do so, ac the tiger did not harm, and killed so many deer tlmt it supplied the neigh bours with meat.

A remarkable examplo of thia mutual fellowship between man and tiger is nar rated by Colonel Campbell. Hearing shrieks of distress, ho ran to the rescue, and found that they proceeded from a young lad of 15, on whom bis fathor, a celebrated hunter and bushranger named Karaah, was operating with a bamboo. His crime (?) waR that ho had killed a tiger ! Moat people would have thought it a most gallant action, and felt proud of their son. Not bo Kamah, who was full of angry regret. "It ia all vory well for thoso who live in the open country to wage war with tigers, but with us, who live on social- terms with thorn in the jungle, the cisc is different. I have no quarrel with the tigers. I never injured one of thorn -they nover injured me; and while there was peace between ub I wont among thorn wirh out fear of danger. But now that this young raecal has picked a quarrel there is no saying where the feud will end " There upon the discipline of the bamboo was re newed.

The tigress is much more to be dreaded as a man-caior than the male animal. Should flio happen to havo cubs, it isneces sary to kill tho entire family, as the young ones have been accustomed from the first to feed on human flesh, and begin, instead of ending, by being man-eaters.

Horrible Discovery in a Cathedral.

In the proeocution of the repairs now being efleeted on tho cathedral at Panama a singu lar discovery has been made. In the third ptory of one of the bell towers a doorway is being formed from what was formerly a wide and long opening Eerving to give exit to the sound of the bells. The lintel of this opening was formed of solid masonry work, cemented over. On its removal it was found that at some period long antece dent, fifty or perhars one hundred years ago, a portion of this cement work had been removed, and a child of from perhap3 nine to eighteen months of age had been thrust in there alive. Its little wrists and feet were cloßoly tied together, and from the manner in which the hands were, clutched and the feet twisted, it is evident the sufferer had died in tho utmost torture.

Effects or Elevator-Riding.

Kkoent experiments touching the efl'ectß upon different persons of the upward and downward motion of oleva'ors, the Now York " World " enys, pre-ent some curious results A man of IGI pounds weight stand ing upon the platform of a scale placed in an elevator rinds the balance indicating 174 pounds on the upward journey, nod 148 duringthe descent, thus showing adifferonce in his weight for tho time being of twonty six pound*, or about 16 percent In thia case the elevator was of ordinary speed, and in proportion as the spood was increased or diminished the chaneo observed a corre sponding alteration, the elevator moving po rapidly aa to indicate nearly 40 per cent. In this we havo tho secret of why bo many por sona havo a sensation of soa rick ness in ele vators, especially after a recent meal In a great uptown store, in which tho different stories are devoted to eonarate branches of trade, tho speod of the elevator is regulated so aa to s»vo time, but so many ladies are mnde sea-rick by tho motion they prefor the old modo of stair-climbing. Standing well forward or woll aft on the deck of a ship in a heavy soaway gives the same lifting and falling sensation as that experienced in the elevator : but the roll of tho ship is absent, so that it would seem aa if eea-sickness resulted moro from the up ward and downward motion than the sway ing of tho deck away from a horizontal poaitiou. It will bo romombored that the experiment of building passenger vessels with pendulum cabins, whose decks re mained horizontal throughout the voyage, failed to avert sea-sickness? All the motion was overcome exceptiug in the direction of the perpendicular. That di;eaee of tbo soa m«ft thereforo c due to the alternating conditions of the pres sure of tho food in tho stomach ; and as the patient recovers when the stomach has time to adjust itself to the motion and be cornos proof against further attack, it is pb vlous that voyaging in a rapidly-moving elevator, in anticipation of a sea voyage, would make "old salts "of the moat doli cato ladiea before embarking.

A New Wedding King.

" So Miss Blank ia married ?" he inquired. •■ Yea." " I heard that her father gaveher a cheque for S10.000." "Yep, he did." " Was it sood for enything?" '; Wei), that a the point, that puzzles every body who vra? there. They were all crowd ing around to preif it was certified, when F-ho held it aloof and exclaimed, ' Dear Father, but these diamonds are enough !' She touched it to the gas and away it went. I think it's a new kink, and one intended to save the old man."

CAPITAL PUNISHMENT

The Garrotte in Spain,

The garrotte, or, as it is called in Spain, the Argolla, if not a remnant of the Inquisi tion, must have found its way into the Iberian peninsula from the East, for it is simply a mechanical means of strangulation, and strangling, we know, has for centuries

been the usual moans employed by Orientals in carrying out doath sentences, whether legal or arbitrary. In Spain, as in all othor European countries, the extreme penalty of the law is carried out in public, England being (ho only one which has adopted private oxecutiona. Whether thia ey3tem be a deterrent from murder or not, it in uot my province here to discuss ; suffice it to sayihat, in the opinion of the most eminent legists and philanthropists of Continental Europe, public executions are best, and exercise en influence oa the lower orders that awakens in them a healthy dread of the law, whereaß if executions were to take place in private, the majority of the criminal and illconditioned orders would never believe that they were carried out—a belief which would develop assassin ations and militate ogainßfc that respect which the law, when administered publicly, obliges Though of recent years Spain has been the hotbed of revolutions and conspiracies, the Spaniard, as a rule, is a law-abiding, if not a law loving mat). Certain classes of crimes are by him looked upon as venial sins ; yec there ia no people so acute or who recognises more quickly the necessity of punishing with severity certain offences against social order, bb long aa they are not offences of a political character. They hold murder in the utmost abhor rence, whether it be prompted by revenge or rapacity ; and it is for this reason that the abrogation of capital punish ment has never been seriously entertained by them. Although their system of strangling ia quick, and, I am assured, as devoid of pain to the criminal aa the guillotine, yet is iB more repulsive and awe-inspiring1, and the efiect of it on the senses of the epecfator, as well as the subject, revolting in the axtreme. It is true there is ostensibly no blood spilled, still it ia as hideous a sight as any that public executions furnish, and, withal, as sickening. In the Plaz» del aire puro (the place of pure air) the public executions are carried out It is on a high eminence and near the humble quarter of the city. From it you see all tho environs of Madnd as far aa the mountains of Guadamara, which fringe the horizon. It waa here I witnessed, a couple of years ago, the judicial death of a murderer. It was one morn ing in the spring of the ye«r, when the weather had already begun to ba warmed with the sultry grinds of Africa, when the trees began to blossom arid the air was laden with tho perfumes of the mag nolia and the rose. I shall never forget the scene. All Madrid seemed to be making festival, and thousands of men and women the women were in a large majority—had gathered in the Place garrulous and gay, and as frivolous a3 if they had come out to see a bull fight or a theatrical spectacle. No one would have imagined that they had come hither to see a fellow creatuie done to d' ath by a grim executioner. As the execution was to take placa be tween ten and eleven, I took caro to arrive on tho scene early enough to obtain a good view. I confeaa the deßire to assist at exe cutions manifests a morbid taste, but atill such taates, I take it, belong more to the tender-hearted and sympathetic than to the cruel and ungenial. Aa soon as I ap proached the place the crowds became dense, and it appeared to me that I should not be able to get as close to the scaffold aa I should wish. The people, however, see ing I waa an Englishman, courteously made a passage for mo, so that I managed to get as noar as the soldiery would permit, and even these exhibited a courtesy to which we, alas! are strangers, but which is tho! strongest of Spanish characteristics. Around the scaffold there were several detachments cf calvalry and infantry—Lan cers, Hussars, Carbineers, and soldiers of the line. There waa, so far aa I could judge, no ostensible reason why euch an array of armed men should be present,- unless it waa to make the lugubrious scene a 8 imposing or a? impressing aa possible ; for in every ceremonial, ecclesiastical or civil, your Cas tillian loves pomp—and what would all the pomp and ceromoniea in the world of Spain be if the military were absent? Every criminal sentenced to capital pun ishment receive forty-eight hours' notice of his execution. These are given him to make his final peace with his God, and are always pa?sed in tho chapel of the prison in which he is confined. During these fearful hours, he and his fellow-prisoners have to assist at the office for the dead. He has to hear over and over again supplications to heaven for forgiveness of his sins, and _np to the moment prior to his being led from tho chapel to the scaffold he has to suffer death many times in his imagination. It is a system of torture that cannot be too severely cenanred ; but it is a torture inflicted from a re'igioua motive, and therefore must be excuaed, if not pardoned. Our system is even worse. But until you can persuade a legislature that the mental suffering ia not outweighed by the spiritual boom, or lulled by spiri tual comfort, there ia no hope of tbiß mode of augmenting a criminal's agonies being frustrated or as much aa poaaiblo eliminated. On the Bcaffold were the murderer was to expiate his crime, I saw, on a stool or low table, which was covered with a white cloth, the garrotte glittering in tho morning sun. It waa a broad band of polished steel, like a dog collar, having no appearance whatever of a death dealing instrument. Close by was n chair, on which the criminal is seated, and at the back of it was o this tho girrotte is attached after having boen placed round the culprit's neck. It is then tightened by a screw, which is twisted by a handle long enough to give sufficient leverago so that in turning it no great exer tion or strength on the part of the execu tioner is required. While I wait with nervous anxiety thi» arrival of the criminal, I hear in the dis tanca the tinkling of a bell. For a moment I imagine that it is the signal o[ hU ap proach. But it is not, for I Bee slowly advancing through the crowd, which makes way for him, a man dressed like a priest, who is vigourously ringing it. Around his neck is a large green money-box, on which are printed in large red letter?, " Paz y catidad " (Peace and charity). His duty is to collect alma from tho people to pay for masses for the repose of the boul of the wretch who co soon is to expiate his horrible murJer on the scaffold. A few momenta afterward? there fa some commotion near me. The Boldiera stand at attention and draw closer to the platform. At the same time I see the executioner and his two assistants approach. The chief alone mounts the ladder ; the others stand on tho ground a little distance from the soldiers. He is of low stature and alight frame, apparently about forty-five years of age. His oyee ate dark, or gliaseu with suppressed emotion. Yet his movements are regular and deliber ate. After having carefully examined the garotte, and striven to move the post to see that is is socur ho walks up and down the low platform awaiting the arrival of hie victim. We are not long kept waiting ; for in about five minutes a prison van ia driven through the assembled multitude up to the steps of the scaffold; from out of it first coinos a priest in hia canonicals, bearing aloft a large crucifix. He iB the first to mount the ladder nnd to tako hia stand in front of the criminal's chair. Immediately after follows aaother priest, supporting the condemned man, who the while repeats, in a monotonous intonation, prayers for the dead.

The laughter in the crowd, the babel of clatter* the flirting of fans, on the instant ceased. The woman grow deadly pale and quiver from fear -they dread to witness what they came out to see-; and the men etaud aahaet. I mysolf feel as if I would faint. The grim excitement of suspense oppresses me, and the time from (he arrival of the executioner till he clutches his victim seems hours— awful hours, fraught with agonising pity for tho miserable wretch who bo soon shall be sent to his eternal doom.

As soon aa he approaches the chair, whither he ia conducted by the priest, the executioner motions him to be seated. He then gentiy but securely pinions him to the post, his shoulders being pulled back till they touch it. He then binds bis feet and hands. The wretch is livid with fear. Each time the executioner touches him he shivers. He knows that in a few seconds all will be over. He looks pleadingly to wards the cross, which the priest who bears it pre=Bea to his lips. He kisses it for the last time. The bright garrotte is placei round hie neck and attached to the pole. There is not a found to ba heaul from the thousand-; which aro (»npiti(r at thia horrible eight. Even their breathing seercs suspended for some (seconds, till the supreme moment ia over. Now the executioner f<ots behind his victim, and, like a flash, he flings a white cloth over his head, I see him move the

handfes of the screw which tightens tfe garrotte} then 1 hear a dull sound. Is i* the rumble of the screw, or is it the crush ing of the vertebras' of tho neck ?' Almost simultaneously with this dull, sickening sound the victim's body shivere, his legs and! arms move three or four times spasmodi cally, and then becoma rigid. AH in over. He is dead—the murdered is a.enged, the law is satiated. At this moment, signalled by the priests, who raise their berrettof, every one nncovers and mutters a prayer. As soon as he has assured himself that his victim h dead, the executioner lifts away the white cloth. Ob I what a fearful, revolting sight. The face, which but a few minutes previously was livid and em»ciated with mental pain, i* now purple and swollen. The lips are blue-, the tongue swollen protrudes from tbo mouth, the eyea aro open, glaring, blood-, shot, and leaping trom t'aeir sockets, ancf <*ere it not that tho body is bound to tho post by a rope round the chest, it would present a hideous spectacle presenting th appearance rather of a man hang tbat» garrotted. A black mitre-chape cap, with a white cross on it, is then placed on tho dead man's head, there he is left under the charge of two sentinels till sunset, when a religious order like the Mirericordia of Florence, called the Congregation of Weepers come and take the body away ana give it b decent burial in the cemetery where all criminals are interred, outside. Madrid.

I returned to see this melancholy service The air was balmy, night wag Jailing, and for a time there was an awful, deathlike eilence surrounding the scaffold, near which were gathered about twenty of these Weepers. Aided by an assistant execu tioner, the poor motionless body was> loosened from the deadly grip of the garrotte, and laid in a pauper's coffin amid murmured prayers and low moaning?, which seemed to my heated imagination to disturb the spectres of all who had been done to a judicial death on the spot. The coffin was then placed in a funeral cart, which proceeded immediately to the burial ground, where, amid lamentations and prayor, all thtt was mortal of a wretched criminal was left in peace for ever.

On the If Decetfulness of Human Nature.

[By A Youngest Boy,]

I now had a dredful experyense of the dsot fulness of human nature.

Mi sister (the eldest wun) sais it will be a warnin to me for the fewture to avoid

makeing promieskewse acwaintanswf. i shel be jolly careful after this i can tell yon. i am obliged to rite this essai in a verdict puziiiahuu, as there is nuthin to cit downe upon in the garrit where i am lockt up. Not that i care about eittin down thow. Ever since that pette interview with mi mail progennitor in the etuddy after the secret of mi intimasy with Plantagenit was reveled to the ice of mi fammerly, i hay not karod mutch abowte cittirjg downe. To begin with, all this wold never have hap poncie if Gorge Parker had not had the meezles. i ahold never hay thought of cbumeing'up to eny other felow if George had been healthy enuf to get into scrapse and enjoy them as yewsual. But Georgo was laid up, and I get so July eick of loping; abowte by misolf that when I met that boy cummin owte to the tofy shop with a bag of mint bnlsize nnd a pakit of sigarets, and he offerede to trete, I thowt that the finger of providense mi ante keeps goin on abowt, had sumtbin to do with it, and aksepted the proffered hospitality with alakrity " Mi nairn is Richard Plantagenit Mont morensy," said he, " what is yourae ?" i told him, but you may gess it sounded chepo alongsid of such a splendid nairn as that boyse. N.B.—He was a pail, elite yutfr, with a good dele of hair, in check soot and a clene colar. His voyss was hi and his teeth were wite; be shoed them a good dele wen he smiled. -Then he ast me were i lived, and i shoed him the house. N.B.— Mi sister (the eldist wun) was in the akt of coming down the stepse.

" How luvly she is !" said the pail, slim boy, heaving a tremendis si. Then the teers trikled downe his face in ernest. " I am a miserable, lonely orpan," sais he; " how gladly wold i change plaeis with you in spito of all mi ritches ;" here he heeved another si.

" Are yu so very welthy ?" i aat him. " Welthy is nod the nairn for it," sais he, pulling a hanfiil of half crownse oat of his ' i trousirs' pokifc, and giving me a glimpse of a gold watch and cbane. "i am tho last surviving sighon of the houee of Montmor ensy, and the air of a noble dukedom." I felt a little ebi at the thought of Fluntng enits being a duke, though he was only an utlnr boy. He put his hand into his pokifc ogayne and pulled oute a kupple of notec, which he banded to mo. N. B.—i had newer held so much muney in mi hand before, and regarded the preahua dokmentr with re spectiul aw. " Here yung shaver, run and get these changed for me," eais yung Plantagenit^ "Be sure and go to a plais were yu are knone," he added. "Is that the grene- ». grosers were yure fammerly deels ?" " Yes, yur graship," sais i. "Then go and get 'em changed there, and be sure yu say yure father sent you," says he I departed, and presently returned with the munny in gold. He pokited it, and gave me wun of the half-crownse. N.B.—i wold hay refused to aksept the coyne, but that i feered to hurt his feelings by doing so. "If you kpu how weery i am of the splendor of mi_ pallia in Pikadilly," sais he. "Gold and Bilver palls upon the i, and pik cures, and statutes is woerying to the jaded sensis. If you would content to pass the evening with me," eais he, "shold.be grateful for yur kumpanny." i hesytated, ut he wold take no denyal, eaying that mi parentee wnld not be likely to thro obstykleß in the wai of my intimasy with a Plantagenit, and after aranging to call with a carriage and bayse, to take me to hia pallia that vorry eevening, he wistlad, and a parson with a horse voyse and a stubly beard came up, Plantagenit said the person waß his tewter, and though he mite hay bene oleener, he was verry reepeckful, and kept calling me my lord, till i wished George Parker bad bene there to hear him. Then the yung duke xchanged watchis with me, takening my old silver wun, that mi ante gave me, and giveing me his luvly gold wun meted. We then partid and i went home to diner, feeling as if everyboddy who went past must wispar to sumboddy eleo, "There goes the boy who kno's a duke !"

As the sbadse of evening fel, i put on mi Sunnday Eoot, and brusht mi lockee with kare, and borrowde a clone color and a ban kerchief from mi suterse rume, and de sc»nded to the hal in splendid xpectashun. There was a thundering nock at the door , but it was only a paliseman. In his glov'd hand he graspt two five pound notee. Our greengroser akumpanied him. Ho wag pail with wroth. " Yure the yung raskle as changed two forged five punnotse at miahopp this morn ing," sais he, and seisis me by the color. I kicked his shine, and my mail projennitor came out of tho studdy, heering tho noise. Then it alia kame owte. .

Plantagenit was a glairing impostor. The story abowte the pallis and the carrige and bayso was lisa. The wotch he had giveden me in xchange for mine was imitashun golde. Even the half-crowne he had prest upon mi ackseptanca was a bad wun. Worst of alle, he was not a genuine yuth', only a female emasber, the paliseman aed. A retchid misrable girle in trowsis pretending to be a boy ! A retchid misrable girl in trowsis sruoak ing siggarets, and lafing as I sukumed be neeth the parralising vapourse of the knockshus wede, which I own I did pretty proper.

This is a beestly world, when yu hey nuthing but dri bred and a silver fork for diner,—"Judy."

Power of Money.

We never did yet doubt the power of money in any phase of life, but this little incident shows bow useful it may be under peculiar and trying circumstances: At a recent protracted meeting held in this city, one of the brethren became very noisy and shouted and responded with bis amens until he became a positive nuisance. The minister called one of big deacons op to the altar, and asked him if he wouldn't manage somehow to atop the old fellow's noisp. The deacon went to sea aod talk a few words to him undertone, and the ebouter at once l" ame aa quiet as a spring lamb. After (services were over the minis ter asked the deacon bow he managed to quiet the old fellow ao .quickly. "Oh," replied the deacon, "the power of money did the business. I asked him for £5 to help spread the gospel that waa making him feel bo good."— Lonitn Faptr,

THE AUCKLAND EVENING STAR, SATURDAY, FEBRUARY 12, 1887

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How to Get Sick.—Kxpoao yaaruelf day anct night, sit loa much without exercise, work too hard wiihout reßt, doctor all the time, take all the vilo nostrums advertised, and then you trill want to know