THE AUCKLAND EVENING STAR, SATURDAY, OCTOBER 8, 1887.

fSDHPLEMENf

Ruby's Reward.

(VII , s ss* IBSHEU>OK-

I r(Th Forsaken Bride," '.**&£ "That

CHAPTER XXXVIII. P®o^-Kto expedition ; and, as she $mC bsr hetffc, for Bho looked p#? IBb Lff I cannot bear to gC Vj^ou. I wish you wavuid 2* Sink it would be best. Se doßOt Wdnotbe time now, unless Mother train, and-I sii3S? IS" M- Gordon >>S her arms about her VgSkissedll6l' almost PfEftS which she had re \ IKS seemed likely to result •ft hHero*" favourite sister.had >* dS influence upon the proud SO3 beganto feel a good deal #°> SnV the part she had taken urtprofecteo. good omen, and '^f Zf she bad written to send to '& wkn who should drive up the * ifcliatgentlemaß himself. % was new more glad to see a friend ftSSrSen, flitting was ex- Se last farewell said, and then she {Sabtathe psriour with a sense of •S3 comfort such as she had not !Un in along time. .. « kcoald not get a moment alone Ifa for Edmund Carpenter followed !!7 D d persistently remained in the rtiughouG his call-thus she had no Jlity to tell him of her discovery. f w almost tempted once to brave £&&&&' reveal it in his presence, Sfeal a scene, while there was a UflMibt.tbe young man might not Uirachas she feared he did. Sbtoid Urn that she had concluded to (.fctalville to stay with him for the IU sad Mr Buggies appeared much MUh her decision, only he said he RiW to go home that afternoon jKelebsdascertained that he could do ftrnogooduDfal the time of his trial. •I caa be rfeady to go with you this fe», ;i Ruby said, eagerly. "I am stiWdoftherain*" ■■'■■. "Jus I can wait until fair weather iffteaftejou out in such a storm," considerately. :fe do not. I would rather go to ii'toby interposed, nervously, and then i realised her own eagerness to ■|nd Carpenter frowned, and set his Sky. He knew that she was anxious mitm from Ms presence which was ■pSiiggles understood also, and an- Hffwi; then ws will take the four Bn, and I will send a carriage for Rms; I will be ready," Ruby BWi But as he arose. to. take his HLtebejan to get excited. B^ifascnuld only get one word alone H&i!,:o tsll liim her secret, and ask Hjnh^ln ought to do about it. But B^kijßssible, for the master of Forest ■S;:l*fd them to the door, and re- WH fee until the last word was said. ■tik \a friend had gone, and it was mmvh blamed herself for not having ■Ra?bP.e she had the opportunity. ■J&'«dasthedoor closed after him, i|!! :i ji» stairs to pack her trunk, but fj*aiOirpenter came forward, laid his g|si'.!<skr shoulder with something of H'assnlhority, and said: H 'fe Gordon, I would like a few mm Hjfesiifßation with you.' 1 Iptest bounded into her throat, and iRi lave lost her self - possession lljwfi but that his familiar touch angered l*«l(wUck from him and lifted her fE^g v?i7 special? I have all ill, to do >vyouu v know," she said B^f^fU'ichitnporance that I must »J w7°Pe not to detain you many ntT i mi? tfca Pariour> if you Ksl » wh to say to you is of a BalT'* to be war, IW T\ for tk Protection.of Mr ilSat ■ braced herself for the Iti4rrf T Eon bef°™him into the Ws^tehe immediately locked the ll£ d*nnim with flashing eyes ■(far,* this a very un- KJF"^ lb Carpenter," she i^S b*Ky°ur Pardon for dia- H. ;"-';■! ho replied, with a smile ft"4y~" tocon»o to the point at ||H%^H ient gesture. Wi'fosH ( ~t?".a (1"e 88ed so faraili m leS nter la«ghcd outright at i^ffibfe% -and ted in m- '»lather enjoyed arousing ft V& G?*K if th»fc suits ■j^K^^ your possession ml^ £ S y' and not changing Sfc* iJ?° U? h her heart™ jj|k rapidlty tU almost suffo ft'^S^l,^ him some" g|;#4, ' . uieat>6ffaoe earnestly for l|?'^L3 afc I 1 refer," he MTf^Cl S flde?^- "A paper a^ayfi?? found^tnightwh^n |l^IS rrmili| a t tdocume''T-?'' «V*«2i!,T ko him oonfeas K'Sw^^Pationtlv. "I WwJ^lb*!,*?^l^ me last ■JtS^Sfc* 8 obli^ d fc° iHIKfe 4 Bat ISolne1 Solne ofßcial to jK\HI JS« with a little IBrflV* m\^i gifting of ■^^ bf v ? H ttle mom

"It is useless for you and me to play at cross purposes," he went on, after a moment; "for I am confident that ■ you have found it, and that you are resolved to make the fact public. But that is some thing that I shall'not allow, after all. this time, if I can'help it, and I insist upon your giving it up to me."

"You have known ever since Mr Ralph Carpenter's death that his will was con cealed in that desk '?" demanded Ruby, without appearing to need what he had said last.

"Yes." " Perhaps you even put it there yourself, Mr Carpenter ?" "It was not all my doing," he confessed, his glance wavering before her clear, steady look. "It was partly by accident. It slipped down with a crash while I was ex amining some of my father's papers, and I simply allowed it to remain therei" " That was very honourable!" Ruby said, with a curl of her red lips.

" There never ought to have been a will made," the man retorted, sullenly, " and when fate slipped it down that hole, I could not get at it without breaking the desk to pieces." " Would you have given it to the public if the accident had not occurred ?" Ruby questioned, sternly.

A lurid flush shot over her companion's face, and he shifted his position uneasily.

"No, you would not," she went on, in the same tone. "You would have found some other hiding-place for it; or, perhaps, you might even have destroyed it, in order !to have kept one, whom your father loved, . out of the portion which yon feared he had bequeathed to him. Yes " Ruby continued, in a clear, ringing tone, "I did find Mr Ralph Carpenter's will last night, and my first impulse was to give it directly to you ; but, remembering how much I had heard said about it—that some believed a great wrong had been done—which belief I con fess to having shared myself, since knowing of your implacable hatred towards Mr Richardson —I resolved that I would try you first. I reasoned that ib might possi bly have been an accident which might have occurred during your father's life, and of which you would thus be entirely ignorant. I felt sure that I could tell whether this was so by your manner when you should learn how I had broken your desk. If you betrayed no anxiety or knowledge, if yon did not look for anything, I should have been convinced of your in nocence, and would have given you the document at once. But when you betrayed that you knew, I felt that such a course would be unwise, and I resolved to retain it until I could be sure that justice would b« done. lam afraid I have made a great mistake, how ever. I think I ought to have told Mr Buggies when he was hero in spite of your presence." " Where is that document, Miss Gordon ?" Edmund Carpenter .demanded, with an evi dent effort at self-control, while bis face was absolutely devoid of colour.

" Will you promise to have it probated at once if I will tell yon ?" Ruby asked.

"No, I will not. It shall never see the light of day, if I can prevent it!" he cried, in towerihg passion. "Doyou "mean that you intend to des troy it?" " It is no matter what I mean ; but of one thing you may be very sure—that I will never share my inheritance with Walter Richardson," the young man affirmed, in a dogged tone. " It is a great crime to destroy a will," said Ruby. "It is a great erimo to steal a will, Miss Gordon," he repeated, imitating her man ner and tone. " You had better give it to me." .

''Even if I did, 1 could tell that 1 had found it; I should do'so," ■ * " You would have to prove your state ment, and, sincb you could nofc possibly have been so dishonourable as to read

" No, indeed," she interrupted, flushing ; "I do not know one word that it con tains. "

" Then you could not prove how the property is to be divided," he sneered, but with a triumphant air. "Mr Carpenter, you are arguing against yourself," Ruby replied, with dignity: " I shall not give you the will." "Oh, yea, you will, Miss Gordon." " Indeed !" " I shall c6mpel you to do so," her com panion retorted, in a tone and with a look that made her heart quail for an instant. She thought a moment, then she said : "Mr Carpenter, I wish to. do what is right about this matter, and I suppose it would seem rather strange to have it found in my possession. I will give it up to you in the presence of a third party." Her companion suppressed an oath. He saw that he had made a great mistake in allowing his anger to get the better of him; but he never could bear to be opposed in anything. He might have temporised with her— promised anything that she asked ; and when he had once got the will in his pos session, he would not have hesitated to burn it before her eyes, and then let her prove, if she could, that such a document had ex isted. It would have been a doubtful question to settle, while no one would have been the wiser as to its contents. . After a few moments, however, he said: " Very well, I accept your condition. I will call Thomas, who has just returned from the station, and he shall be the third party." "I should prefer that you would call Mrs Coxon," Ruby said, and remembering for the first) time that she had not seen the housekeeper that morning. " Mrs Coxon is not at home to-day," Mr Carpenter answered. , ■ He had been afraid that .Ruby would make a confidante of her,.so he had posted her off at an early hour to superintejrjtj the cleaning of his bachelor apartments in the city, and she would not be back until evening ; mean time, he was determined to secure and de stroy the will—after that she might tell whom she pleased. " I am sorry," Ruby said, greatly disap pointed, for she knew that Thomas was completely under his master's thumb, and would doubtless swear to suit him, " for, in that case, I shall feel obliged to wait until I can "see Mr Ruggles again." Edmund Carpenter was in despair. He saw that Ruby was resolute ; he had not believed that she possessed a tithe of such determination. "Ishall not permit you to remove your trunk to-day," he said, angrily, imagining that she might have the document concealed "Very well," she returned,,quietly; "I presume you will allow me to take a few necessary articles in a travelling bag ?" "Yes; but I must see you pack th6m. The young girl's lips curled with scorn> not unmixed with amusement. "Thank you," she returned. "I will pack them in tne presence of one of the servants, and yourself, if you desire." "Ruby Gordon," he cried, "I believe that document is concealed about your per son !" His eyes glowed fiercely, and he took a step or two toward her, as if to search her for it. :. With the agility of a squirrel she flew to the bell-rope and rang a sounding peal that woke the echoes through th» bo'uso. Then she turned upon him ker face blazing with indignation. "Do not dare, to come a step nearer !" she cried dauntlessly. " You forget that the door is locked, Miss Gordon, and no one can come to your aid," he said, with an evil smile. " You will unlock it at once, or I will cry for help, and arouse every servant in the house, and proclaim the truth before them,' she retorted defiantly.

He knew she would do as she said, and, as a step sounded in the hall, he walked to the door, with a crest-fallen air, and unlocked it, tor he did not wish a scene, and, besides, another plan was taking form in his mind. J-iie next moment a maid appeared. Mary," said Ruby, turning with one of her winning smiles to the girl, "I am going away this afternoon. Will you come upstairs and help me do some packing ?' Indeed I will, miss, " was the ready re-

Did I understand that you wish to superintend the work, Mr Carpenter?" Ruby asked, with sarcastic politeness. l-i" ni.' pack ancl take away whatever you like, he answered, turning abruptly upon his heel, and leaving the room ; for ho had become convinced that the will was con cealed about her person, and he must adopt some other measure to secure it. Ruby uttered a sigh of relief, and sped nimbly upstairs to her work, but feeling afraid she would be obliged to go away after all without her treasure, for she should not dare attempt to get it while the man was in the house.

CHAPTER XXXIX. | BUBY FALLS INTO A TRAP. Ruby hurried her things into her trunk with all possible despatch, finding action her only safeguard, for she was so excited by her recent interview that she must have broken down entirely if she had allowed herself to give way to her thoughts. In the midst of her packing she glanced from the window and saw Edmund Car penter driving away in the storm. A sense of safety cheered her as he dis appeared from view, and he hoped that she should never meet him again. "Now is my time to get the will," she thought; and leaving Mary to fold some clothing, ehe sped downstairs to the library.

But the door was still locked, and the key missing. Buby was bitterly disappointed ; but she stole out upon the verandah, thinking per haps she might get in at one of the win dows, She hated to go away without that will, for the house might burn or a hundred things happen before she could return to secure it. But every blind was closed and securely fastened on the inside; so she was obliged to give up and return to her work upstairs.

"I will tell Mr Ruggles, the moment I see him, and he will know what to do about it," she said to herself, and after that, knowing she would not have to encounter Edmund Carpenter again, sho became more composed, and began to feel quite happy at the prospect of going to Redville, in spite of the distance that would separate her from Walter.

By the time her trunks were ready lunch was served, and she went down to the dining-room, more to while away the time than because she was hungry. It was very lonely in that great house, with only the servants for company ; every noise startled her, and she began to grow nervous and depressed again, and to won der how she should spend the time that would intervene before the carriage would come for her.

She bitterly bemoaned Mrs Coxen's ab sence, for she had conceived a great liking for the good-hearted woman, and she could not be rooonoiled to going away without taking leave of her. Sho had thought it very strange at first, that she should leave home on such a stormy day ; but she was sure now that it had been Edmund Car penter's work, in order to prevent any communication to the housekeeper about the finding of tho will. She tried to read after she had finished her lunch, but she could not get interested in anything, and finally, throwing down her book, ahe .wenfrto the piano and resalufcely practised for an"hour. It was then half-tiast two, and at three a cariiage came dasning up tho drive-way and stopped before the door. It seemed as if it had never rained harder than at that moment. Both carriage and horses were dripping; the driver was en veloped in a huge rubber coat, and his head was covered with a havelock, in which there was only a space for breathing and two holes for his eyes. Ruby ran to put on her wraps and waterproof, and was ready by the time her trunks had been strapped upon the carriage. "The gentleman said I was to come for you and then take him up on the way back," the coachman saicf to Ruby, as he held the door open for her to enter the carriage. "All right," she replied, and sprang quickly in ; the door was shut, and tho next moment she waß speeding toward the city. The rain seemed to come down almost in sheets, so that it was almost impossible for Ruby to distinguish the names of the streets through which she passed. But at length the hack stopped before a plain house in a quist street, with which she was unfamiliar.

The man sprang to the ground, ran up the granite steps, and rang a bell. A neatly dressed servant soon answered his call, and he stood talking with her-a moment, after which he entered the houee. He was absent several minutes, and Ruby wondered what could detain him so long- Presently be came out again, and open ing the carriage door, he said : "It's rather unfortunate, miss, but the gentleman has been suddenly taken sick, and don't care to come out in the rain. He's sorry to disappoint you, but he says would you just step up and see him for a minute ; then I am to drive you to some nice quiet hotel, or anywhere you choose, to stop for the night." Ruby's fac# fell ;shefc«« bitterly disap pointed, for she had made up her mind that she would be cosily settled in the hospitable farm-house at Redville before night, and now it was evident that ehe must wait at least another day, or until the storm was over, if Mr Ruggles was ill. But of course she would go up to see her kind friend ; then she would send hor trunk to the station, and go to spend the night with her friends, Florence and Annie Partridge. . She alighted and passed into the house, the hackman shielding her from the rain with an umbrella. , A servant-girl met her in-the hall with a pleasant smile, saying : . _ " This way, if you please, miss," and led her upstairs. • . The house was large, the halls and stairs richly carpeted, and there was an air of quiet elegance about everything that im pressed Ruby. '■■■-.:„.':.,',*■ it. The girl led her up three flights, and she was nearly exhausted when she got; to the top of the last one. '' It's a long climb, miss," the maid said, in a tone of apology ; " but the gentleman wanted a room at the top^of the house where he could'get good air." She opened a door as she spoke and ushered Rubyinto a pretty^ parlour, with a bedroom opening oat *& It. But no sooner had she stepped over the threshold than the door was quickly closed a"-am, there was a ebund as 01 the click ot a key turning in the lock, and-Ruby Gordon was a prisoner. . ' , She realised this in an instant, and her heart gave one startled bound, and then sank like lead in her bosom, while a deadly whiteness spread over her face. She darted into tho bedroom, with a faint hope that she might find her good friend there. But no; it was empty !; . There was another door,, however, m the r°She sprang to it, but of course that was locked also. . , j ■, vla nn + She went to a window and looked out. But she only saw, far beneath, a small court, inclosed with high brick walls.

Back into the parlour she ran, and looked out of a window there.

Four stories beneath her lay the street — avory quiet street—and she did not recognise the locality, while the houses on the oppo site side looked gloomy and forbidding in the extreme, with their windows half shuttered and their curtains drawn low.

She tried to raise the window, but could not, for it had been securely nailed down. She knew, without being told, that Ed mund Carpenter had sprung this trap upon her.

He had sent a carriage early, in order to be before Mr Ruggles, and had brought her to this place to try to break her spirit and make her give up the will. She wondered now that she had not sus pected something of the kind. She might have known, she thought, that, desperate as he was, he would not have left her so peaceably at Foresti, rale except to adopt stronger measures for the accomplishment of his purpose. Doubtless he believed that she had the will concealed uponher person, and intended to keep her there, a prisoner, until she would give it up, or pledge herself to secrecy regarding it.

She could but acknowledge that the whole thing had been verycleverly planned, and she felt a good deal relieved, and at the same time a little triumphant, that she had not the will with her after all.

She believed it would be safe where it was, and she could thus defy Edmund Car penter to the end. He.would not find her a very submissive prisoner, and she would at least have the satisfaction of trying his patience to the utmost.

Still her position was anything but agree able, and she sat down and tried to think calmly what she could do to ameliorate it.

She know that Mr Ruggles would be very much troubled by her mysterious disappear ance. Still she reasoned that he would be likely to suspect Edmund Carpenter, and would leave no stone unturned to discover her whereabouts.

Yet everything had been conducted so skilfully she doubted if he would know where to look for her; she believed it would be difficult for even a detective to find her.

Mr Ruggles had promised to send a carriage for her ; one had come according to his word, and she had entered and been driven away, while it was doubtful if, in the rain and confusion, any of the servants had noticed the number of it; she had not thought to look herself, while the driver could never be identified, for he had been so disguised by his waterproof and have lock. Perhaps, after all, it had not been a public carriage, but a private vehicle hired for the special purpose of decoying her. A feeling of dismay took possession of her as she realised that she might be kept there for weeks, perhaps months. Mean time Walter's trial would come off, and she alone knew of the plot that had been laid to ruin him ; she alono could save him from shame and imprisonment, for he would surely be convicted if Eatelle's diamonds were found upon his person, as his enemy had planned. Oh, if she had only told all to Mr Rugglos that morning ! She saw now that she ought to have done so—that her shrink ing on account of Edmund Carpenter's pre sonce had resulted in a delay that might prove fatal to him whom she so dearly loved.

It was a very pale and distressed face that Ruby wore as she thought of all these things, shut away in that room on the fourth story of an unknown house. But she was a brave little body, notwith standing, and would not allow herself to give way to useless weeping and repining. She, on tho other hand, determined to put a bold face on the matter, and show ncr captor that sho would not yield an iota to him, while would go hard, with hpr.it sho could not set her woman's wil to devise somo way but of1 her trouble. ■ "I can ait at the window, day in and clay out, and watch for some one whom I know ; then I will break a pane of glass and cry out for help. There must be some way to get out of this dreadful place," she said, resolutely. Just at this moment she heard steps out sideher door, then something heavysotdown in the hall.

The next instant the key was turned, tho door opened, and Edmund Carpenter walked into the room.

(To be Continued.)

A Victorian Heiress.

Otf September 9th an order was made in Melbourne, by consent, by which the trustees of the estate of the late W. Grant were directed to hand over to his daughter, Bessie Susan Grant, the sum of £80,000. Thero is a little story about this young lady and her fortune, which only came to light when the order was made. In 1874 Mr William Grant, who was a quartz crusher at Stawoll, died, leaving a very considerable sum of money behind him. A handsome annuity was left to his widow, and the sum of £800 to the children of his brother, the late Hon. J. M. Grant, the residue to be divided between his own two children. Since the death of Mr Grant his widow and one of the children have died, and some time ago a suit was commenced by the survivor, Miss Bessie Susan Grant, to have the estate administered under the direction of the court. While this suit was in progress this fortu nate young lady wastravelling on thecontin nent; and, while in Paris, shefound the sum allowed her by the trustees too small, for she wrote to his Honor (now Sir Robert Molesworth, a very lengthy letter, com plaining that the allowance given her by the ,trustees,- ; was quite ins»»cient r , She wanted, she said, to lay in a stock of dresses while in Paris, in order that she might show to advantage at tho Governor's ball upon her return to Melbourne; and the young lady finished up by asking his Honor what he thought the trustees knew about " feminine instincts" His Honor did not deal with this epistle, being" on the point of re- J tiring, but handed it over to Mr Justice Webo, his successor on the Equity Bench. Judge Webb refused to take any steps in the matter, but said that if the young lady wanted any larger allowance, she should apply to the court in the proper way. How ever, a few months ago Miss Grant attained her majority, and has now come into full possession of the sum of £80,000.

Four Little Kings.

The King of Greece is very tall and slim, with a dull, heavy face, sleepy blue eyes, fchiok, straight nose and a dropping, brown moustache. # . The King of Denmark is tall, with a broad, compact figure. He has the face of a sea captain; his complexion is very red ; his face has not much expression ; and his features are irregular. He wears a mous tache and side whiskers, which are of an iron grey colour. His shaved chin is square and positive in its lines. The King of Belgium is tall and straight, with a full chest and broad shoulders. His hair is a dark brown-black, parted exactly in the middle. His eyes ore dark, set deeply under very straight eyebrows. Hi» nose is straight; and he has a full,,sweep ing brown moustache and a very full brown beard. _ . •■• The King of Saxony is a very ordinary looking man. He has the appearance of a retired merchant with a small income who lives a'peaceful, narrow life. He is of medium height, with sloping, round shoulders. His hair is grey, his complexion sallow, his eyes cold greyrblue, his nose large and straight. A snowy-white mous tache and large side whiskers concealin a measure the weak character of the lower part of the face, . ji;

AMONG THE SPIRITS.

My First Night's Experience.

(Original.}

" Well, Jack, you will have ifc, I suppose, so I may afc once give in—it will save time— but, remember, I am only about to tell you what took place as I saw and heard it. I shall put forward no theory as to the cause of the phenomena."

Jack Brown and myself were born near the same place, and we are. within a few days of the same age. We had been play mates, schoolmates, and, in short, regular chums until Jack took his departure for the West Indies, some 18 years ago, and for all those years I had seen nothing of him until a day or two ago. Jack was not long in England before he hunted me up, and he has been staying with me now for nearly a week. We have talked on all kinds of subjects, Jack being, as a rule, the greater talker, while I do most of the listening and smoke the most cigars. On this particular evening we are sitting in the summer-house in my garden, looking through the open window upon the broad river, and lazily watching the boat races which some amateur boatmen are indulging in.

It's little, however, I see of the races—at least, it's little I heed them, for Brown has been telling me of a wonderful night he spent, about 'two years ago, at a hut in the interior of one of the smaller West Indian Islands. The events, as related by Jack, were certainly strange, and as he assures me he has been a total abstainer from in toxicating liquors during his residence at the Islands, I must give him credit for being sober.

When I told him I believed his tale and that I was satisfied he had simply related facts which actually occurred he was quite thunderstruck, and told me it was only be cause he had, during the past, been such thorough chums that he broke a resolution he had made to try and forget the circum stance by never mentioning it again. He had told his tale to several people,'his last confidant being an old doctor who occupied the next state room to his on board the steamer which had lately brought him home, and he knew the old gentleman had made the Stewart fossick out a key to fit his cabin door, and had henceforth locked that door at night as if tc guard himself from the attacks of a madman.

I think my old friend felt a positive relief when he heard me say I believod his tale, though certainly it was strange enough. Thare was an Obei woman in it, an old nigger with a red stick, a mysterious baby, and other horrible things. However, lam not going to give you Jack's experience, but my own.

Our conversation turned on matters mysterious and inexplicable, and if Jack had shown his astonishment when I first said I could believe his tale of a night in a West Indian interior, he was ten times more astonished when he discovered that I was not only interested in matters relating to. psychology, but was a firm believer in the reality oi psychic manifestation. "By Jove, Ned," said my friend, " I believe you've forsaken the faitli of your fathers and turned spiritualist!" " I have done nothing of the sort," I replied. "I am simply an investigator into the apparent mysteries of what is commonly called spiritualistic phenomena, but is known among scientific men as psychism or psychic force. I admit the phenomena. I submit, however, we have as yet no conclusive proof of the cause. It was under peculiar circumstances I first had ttn opportunity a few years back of witness ing the phenomena, and since then I confess I Jmye taken great interest in the subject.-,, JFfom the mpment I admit this Jack is determined I shall tell him all about this

"first opportunity." I see I cannot get out of it, so with the best grace possible I come out with the words written above, and give him an account of my first night's experience of the subject matter. You remember Tom Birch, at old Cockayne's, the boy we used to call Corky; he with the short corkscrew curls all over his head? Well, Tom Birch turned out a Civil engineer, and made the profession pay. He went to India/and while there mixed up in some great irrigation works and big contracts and came back with a small pot of money. He married the only daughter of old Paul Lyons, who lived a couple of miles from this, and when the old man died a few

years ago the property, consisting of a very comfortable houso and eleven hundred acres of land, passed to his son-in-law. Tom p&idoffthe mortgage, and now is as com fortably established as he could wish, with a grand little wife and small family. About eighteen months ago I bought this place, and after twenty years' roaming about, settled down as a confirmed old bachelor. Somehow Tom Birch heard of me, for he sent a note asking me to corae and see him. So pleased was Ito renew an old acquaintance that I rodo up to his door the next morning, receiving, on my arrival, as hearty a welcome as a man could wish for. We did a good hour's yarning before lunch, and then I was introduced to his wife, with whom I was charmed, and his two children.

The house was large and comfortable— health and happiness was apparent in the blooming faces of my host and his family, and I came to the conclusion that Tom Sirch, of Landslow—that's the name of his place—was a man to be envied. I enjoyed my lunch after my ride, but I noticed one peculiarity about it; there was -no meat served—fish, a few nick-knacks, and fruit. I remembered it was Friday, and I thought he might have married a Roman Catholic, and had. himself joined that Church to keep his domestic affairs satisfactory. There was plenty of wine for me, but my friends seemed to be temper ance" folk, for they drank nothing but water.. .; ; .■ ~. -: ,-. ■. ■■■ ~ '■■

During the afternoon; we two men took a turn, first through the grounds adjoining the house, and, then extending our walk. Tom showed me the various improvements he had made, and so time passed until near five o'clock.

As we returned to the house I casually asked at what hour he dined. You would have been as astonished as I was had you seen him start and look at me.

He stopped short, and putting his hand on my shoulder, as I also halted, he said ; "By Jove, Arkell, I forgot all about to-day being Friday, and you must be hungry." I submitted the necessity of occasionally recruiting exhausted nature, but I was puzzled about the Friday. Had he turned Roman Catholic, or what ? " No," he said, " I have not done that, but lam rather fixed. Come in here ; you can light another cigar and I'll be back directly. The fact.is we do not dine on Fridays at Landslow—that is, not what you call dine —but excuse me, old man, I must go and consult my wife." He left me in the snug library he had taken me to and vanished, while I can only say I was quite mystified at k:s sudden change of manner. My cigar was half burned out when he returned, accompanied by hie wife. Mrs Birch objected to my putting away my cigar. She said she did not object to the smell, although Tom was no smoker, but that under the circumstances an ex planation was necessary. lat once started to assure her, etc., etc., but Tom stopped me, and an explanation ensued. . There -were, now several visitors in the drawing-room who would stay for the even ing, and I was informed that I, too, should be welcome, bub that I would have to make the best of what the larder afforded, as, , visitors notwithstanding, no- dinner was, as a rule, either cooked or eaten afc Landslow on Friday. The reason was this ;•—Tom

Birch and his wife and the visitors in the other room were believers in spiritualism, and every Friday evening they had what they called a " sitting " for " communica tion."

They considered it advisable to eat little or nothing for some hours previous to sit ting, and their Friday's dinner consisted only of a little fruit; " but," said Mrs Birch, " there is no reason why you should fast, and I will see what I can find for you and leave Tom to explain another matter." Mrs Birch departed on her errand of mercy, and then Tom told me what the other matter was. It was simply this :— He wanted my room rather than my com pany between the hours of eight and ten that evening, as of course I could not understand the matter which would engage their attention, and he trusted me to ex cuse him on the score of our very old friend ship.

I said very little. What on earth could I say ? Here was a man who had made his mark in a profession requiring a brain, coolly and deliberately telling me that he believed in table-tilting, spirit-rapping, and all sorts of queer things. What could I say or what could I think ? I cannot re member whab I said, and I would not like to tell you what I thought. I can assure you I felt quite uncomfort able as we all sat down to dinner after I had been introduced to his friends. Various kinds of fruit were spread upon the table, but at one side of my hostess was a cold chicken and a ham with a bottle of clarefc for my especial benefit. • I seated myself, as requested, in front of these viands, and had indeed made up my mind that if the rest were fools there was no reason why I should starve, when the parson spoke to me: —yes, positively a parson —of all persons and things, and I may at once tell you he's a jolly fellow too—the best cricketer in the county, and a man who for two consecutive seasons pulled stroke in the 'Varsity Races! Perhaps I had better first tell you who and what sort of people composed our company. Well, first there was Birch, with his pleasant face rather bronzed with his residence in India, and next a Miss Adams, a sharp-nosed spinster of uncertain age. She wore spectacles, which were fixed with a piece of elastic round her head, I fancied because she had too little nose to hold them otherwise. Thirdly, the Rev. George Beere, and a man of only thirty or five and thirty, with the build of a gladiator. Birch's daughter was next the Reverend; she was only a girl of eleven or twelve years of age, as lively as a kitten and promising to be in the future a duplicate of her mother. Number five was Mr Mc- Ara, an old Scotchman of at least sixty—a mass of shrewdness and wrinkles. He had been a famous lawyer in his day. Between Mr McAra and myself was our charming hostess, a woman who at nearly forty years of age looked about twenty-five. On the other side of me was a white-whiskered old gentleman, very bald and very pleasant. His wife was there, too, and they were as pleasant a couple as you will often see. There name was Vaulette, and he was the senior partner of the firm of Vaulette and Sons, of the County town. The remaining guest was Miss Purkiss, a niece of the old Scotchman, and a very attractive young person ; age, I should say about 20. Well, the parson spoke to me. He said he understood Mr Birch had explained to me the reason of their meeting that even ing, and he asked me if the subject of spiritualistic phenomena was one I had ever inquired into

I readily told him I had not; and per haps it was something in the look of the honest parson made me say I should be glad to do so, and asked if it were not possible for me to be present at their sitting. In a few minutes ifc was resolyed^fc*!| should join them, with the proviso that if requested I should withdraw. They said it was possible; I might disturb faT^Ur&ble conditions, and if they found ii so they would ask me to retire. .

When one's at Rome, you know, one must do as the Romans, so I left my chicken and ham, and the claret too, contenting myself with some fruit. We had a pleasant hour or so in the drawing-i'oom, Miss Purkiss proving her self a perfect artist at the piano, and Miss Adams and the Rev. George about the best amateurs singers I have heard. Now came our visit to the sitting-room, into which we filed about eight o'clock. It was a room about 18 x 14, with a plain oblong deal table in the centre and a few chairs round it, a heavy, old-fashioned sideboard at one end, and a substantial looking piano at the other. Across one corner hung a pair of dark curtains,.and behind these was alight, easy chair. Now Mark Birch locked the outer doors of the drawing-room, and then the door be tween the drawing-room and this room in which we were to sit, and certainly it seemed impossible for any outsider to enter without our knowledge or consent. As we were about to sit a difficulty arose as to places, or rather the place I was to occupy, as the rest were accustomed to their regular seats. It was only decided after certain mysteriqus workings with a wand or stick about four feet long, held on the. hands of the old Scotchman and his niece. Our positions having been determined, we took our seats—Birch'at'.one end of the table, McAra at the other end, and the rest of us mixed up. , Upon the uncovered table were a concer tina, a bell, a candle, some sheets of writ^ ing paper, a box of matches and a pencil. On the sideboard was a lamp burning, but turned down low, and with out hands placed on the table in front of us we chatted for a while pleasantly enough. Suddenly Miss Purkiss started singing in a low, but sweet voice the immortal Psalm of Life "Tell me not in Mournful Num bers." I shall never forget my astonish ment when I heard the accompaniment played on the piano and no one at the instru ment—at, least no one visible to me. Yes, there was the piano shut up, and yet it was played apparently with no small andount of skill. I did wonder, and well I might, and as the parson noticed my looks of astonish ment he leaned back in his chair, and reach ing forth his long arm, he opened the piano. . . More mystery! I could see the keys de pressed, but could see nothing of the angers that pressed them. When Miss Purkisa had finished I was about to make some remarks, when, lo ! the piano glided from its place, and moved close up to my chair, and the invisible per former was busy again, this time playing some strange air, inexpressibly sweet, but altogether unknown to me.

The last sound had died away and the' piano had returned to its original position, j when I noticed Birch's daughter waa affected in a curious way—her right hand and arm trembling and jerking with con siderable violence. Suddenly .she clutched the pencil, made what I thought were a few scratches on a sheet of paper, and then sank down in her chair with her head rest ing on the table in front of her. \ Upon the paper she had written "Put out the light." The light was accordingly put out, and having each of us grasped the hands of our neighbour's right and left, we waited to see what phenomena would present itself next. . ' ' ■: • ■ : , ...'

In a few minutes hands—warm a'tid ap parently living hands—were playing round us, patting our faces, ringing the bell, playing the concertina, and they at last left us after stealing Miss Adams' spectacles and old Mrs Vaulette's, cap. Thi3 was too much, so Birch got up and re-lit the lamp, while he explained to me that they were occasionally bothered with spirits of a not over serious turn, and who evidently en joyed a joke. I noticed now that my friend's little girl had vanished, but Birch pulled on one side the black curtains in the corner and showed me the child sitting there, apparent! asleep.

Meanwhile the gentlemen were laughing at Miss Adams and Mrs Vaulette, who were searching for the missing articles, but without finding a trace of them, when a voice from behind the table said, "Put your hands on the table," and no sooner was this done than down in our midst fell the missing cap, which Mrs Vaulette ac once transferred to its proper place upon her head. "But where are my spectacles?" said- Miss Adams.

You will hardly believe it, Jack, bub almost before the words were spoken, a hand, and only a hand, but a large sized man's hand, was seen by us all upon the centre of the table. Where it came from I could not say. It was simply there, and its picked up the pencil and wrote on one of the sheets of paper; and then—well, it was gone. It seemed to go through the table. It was only a few seconds in front of U3 altogether. The spinster darted at the piece of paper and secured it; but the absence of her spectacles prevented her reading, so she handed ifc to the rev. gentleman, who read it.

It purported to be written by a spirit calling himself "Bill Cole," and informed us that as Mr Askell had taken such an interest in the sitting, and had shown a serious desire to investigate the truths of spiritualism and had never before witnessed spiritualistic phenomena, the abstraction of Miss Adams' spectacles had been done for a "test." The glasses would be found on the table in the drawing room, and could now be recovered, after which, if we would again sit round, we might expect a visit from a friend who wished to converse with us.

I toll you, Brown, I was staggered, for it was physically impossible for any mortal hand to write all that was on that paper in the few seconds I had seen it done.

I asked to be allowed to see if the spec tacles were really there, and lighting a candle I unlocked the door of the drawing room and found them upon the table. ' You must understand that although I was wonder-struck, the others were not, bub treated the matter as an ordinary affair.

Well, we were requested by a a voice to turn down the lamp and again seat our selves, which being done, there walked from behind the curtains, which hung across the corner of-the room, a tall, thin, benevolent-looking old gentleman, who was immediately greeted by all present as an old friend, and by old Mrs Vaulette as " dear uncle Thomas." .

The old gentleman shook hands with us all round, and was not only glad to see hia old friends, but especially welcomed me, and hoped I should profit by that evening's work. 1 could scarcely believe my eyes. How did he get into the room? The door I well knew was locked. True, the lamp was turned very low, but there was plenty of light for us to see each other, which we could do always, excepting, of coarse, the little girl in the chair behind the curtain. The stranger seemed to read my thoughts, and informed me that he had passed from earth life over forty years before, and was now a resident in spirit land. He assured me I was privileged in, being introduced into such a circle as this, and recommended me to follow up honestly the investigation of spiritualism. He then gave us what I might call a sermon of about ten minutes or so, and I must say that for common sense talk and moral teaching I had never heard the like. Thomas Kyte (that waa his name, he said) left us after wishing us all good-riighfe. He seemed to vanish through the curtains-- I do not think he pulled them on one side— • and a voice said "Sing, please, sing."

Miss Purkiss struck up a hymn, in which Miss. Adams and the parson at once joined, and gradually the rest of us. .* *■ »* . ■ Several times I noticed- ihe black curtains shake and part, and once or twice I thought I saw a face, but at) last, when the sound of the chant had died away, a young lady, whose face I could not but remember well, came forth timidly and with apparent caution. She seemed to lack confidence, and I think tried to speak, bufc was unable to do so, and gradually melted away through tlie floor,: while* I am bound to admit the cold perspiration oozed from every pore in my body. Then again,, from behind the curtains, came the pleading voice "Sing again, please, sing;" and this time Miss Adams led off with "Dream Faces."

Not only once, but three times she sangr that song, and then again from behind the dark drapery glided the same form, the one I remembered so well. Her tall figure en cased in a dark tight-fitting dress, with plain white collar and cuffs, her hair braided in the fashion of years gone by, and her eyes looking at ire, and at me only, as they had looked in the old times. How could I fail to recognise her ?

In my astonishment, I might almost say fear, I should have fallen, for I had risen and approached her, had s"he not come to my assistance. She. caught my extended hands, and the touch thrilled through me as with an electric shock, and 1 further recognised her voice as she said: " How pleased lam for you to see me again. How glad I am I succeeded in getting you here. I wish I could stay longer. Another time when we have more power." My armsVere around her, her warm lips pressed my cheek, yet while I thought I held her safely she was gone. She faded, melted, I might say, from my arms, I could not tell whither.

The parson held me, or I should have tried to rush behind the curtains from which we could now hear low moans pro ceeding. My old friend Birch unhooked the draperies and let them fall to the ground, exposing to bur sight the chair in which, was huddled up his little daughter, as ib seemed, insensible. * .'•*'" After Tom and his wife had examined the child, they left her to recover, and we were proceeding to open the door in the drawing; room, when loud knockings were heard on the ceiling and the walls. By answers to questions put by that matter-of-fact lady, Miss Adams, we were informed that "the spirit" wished us to sit round the table once more in the dark.

Hardly was the lamp out when something fell upon the table, and a succession of peculiar knocks were heard. These lasfe were interpreted as " Good-night," and the lamp was immediately re-lit, and we all rose. ■ .'. ' ::'"'. ■' v ;/• \'; / ■'■ •.

But what was it fell on the table? you will ask, for you could never guess. It was my great coat, a very heavy one I rarely use, and which I had that morning lefb hanging here in my house two miles dis tant. You may not believe me. You may think, old fellow, I am1, mad, but I can. assure you I have told you nothing bub what actually occurred. *

Ten minutes later we were all seated in my friend's dining-room enjoying a good supper, and when I left and rode home shortly after I found the great coat useful in shielding me from a very heavy rain, and I feltthankful to theinvisiblemesseiigeir who had brought it for me. This was nearly all my first night's exper ience, but not quite, for as I took off the wonderful great coat I found a letter in the pocket. Jack, I'll show you that letter by and-bye, and let you compare it with her writing of twenty years ago. " Do you mean Agnes V I "Yes, Agnes."



A Wise Deacon.—-" Deacon Wilder, I want you to tell me how you kept yourself and family so well the past season, when all the rest of us nave been siok so much, and have had the doctors running to us so often.* ''Brother, Taylor, the answer is very easy, I used Hop Bitters in time, and kept my family well, and saved large doctors' bifla, Folrrshillings'worth of it kept us all well and able to, work all the time, and I will warraat it Has <Josfc you and most of the neighbours £10 to £100 apiece to keep siok the same time. I fancy you'll take: mr medicine hereafter.' See,