watch. My plan was to catch the dog and Wke the Maoris pay °>™™* *£*££ AY* watched, and at las b he come though his ascustomedholein the hedge. Bo ore he was half through, we slipped a noose over us head.lecVhim to an out-house.and thereshub 'him up. however, found us out how, I knW not. Next morning as we .were having Wcfast, what shou 1 I see jbut half-a-dozeK natives running past the 'house. Meta, astride of Ins dog and Idling it alongly the ears, was at the rear!" Alter them ca^e the boy, shouting :« q fcoD t hi e f » There * a s but one thing to i Wdo?e, and I did it. A rifle «™ h WJf over the mantelpiece; I snatched it up. land rushing to the open door, I commanded 'them to stop. Meta. however went on jeering at me in Maori I took aim and lired at the dog. He dropped dead. The ■natives were so astonished and hightened 'that they took to their heels and tied. Lver after this they looked upon meaaa «toa (warrior) To this day I wonder at toy rashness in tiring; if I had hit one of the men they would certainly have killed me and'my wife and children, and fired my This adventure was but one of the many that I had with the Maoris. Soon after this we received tidings that wav had broken out in Taranaki. At first we were much alarmed, but as everything went on as before for some time we gradually forgot our fears But the natives did not allow us to forget them long ; they showed much bad feeling towards us, and continued to annoy us by stealing sheep, and any thing else they could lay their hands on. A year thus passed on, and still the Maoris were outwardly at peace. Two years passed on, and still our part of the country was quiet, but wo daily heard rumours that made our blood ruu cold. New Zealand, unable to defend herself through lack of soldiers, was forced to look to England for help. Long ago troops had come,"and more were arriving. Another six months passed, and daily we became more and more alarmed for our safety. "Whenever we met the once friendly Maoris, we were greeted by sullen, "Hark looks, omens of the future. And now the fatal year of 1863 was approaching. If we had but known what it would bring, how we would have flown to a refuge. One day a ' woodman came in and told me that the mutilated body of a fellow-woodman had been found in the bush, stripped of every thing of value and dreadfully tomahawked. Then indeed we were alarmed. The morn ing of the next year dawned, dark and lowering, a sad omen of the times. Every morning we rose, thankful for not being i murdered in our beds; every evening we went to rest, but not to sleep, fearful for our safety. Every day we heard fresh rumours; houses were being fired, and the settlers flying for safety not two miles away. The war had in truth broken out. Troops of soldiers came into the district, and many skirmishes took place. One night we were sitting in our little kitchen, when my wife happened to lodk at the uncurtained •window. She pressed my hand, and with out a word I took up my rifle (which I had been cleaning), and looked. I saw two evil dark-skinned faces peering in, and two guns pointed at us. Without a moment's hesitation, I took aim and fired. I heard a howl and then all was silent. In a few minutes we heard fearful war whoop 3. Ima gine my horror when I saw a band of hostile Maoris advancing towards our house with lighted torches and uplifted tomahawks. Looking round for a way of escape, I saw Ngahine hurrying my wife and children out of the back door, and beckoning to me to follow. She led us-across the creek (whose murmur 1 shall remember to my latest day, and so on, into the bush. Looking behind, I saw our little house, a honie no longer, on fire,.while the Maoris were seeking for plunder. Silently we follo\ved our guide through unfrequented paths to the little settlement, where we found a dozen or more settlers, all armed with rifies,ready to march to the next settlement, about three miles away. All the women and children were placed in our midst, and then we proceeded to march, keeping well together and ready for an attack. I cannot describe the horrors of that journey. Enough to say we reached the settlement in safety. All the people were collected in the little church which stood on a small hill. The windows and doors were strongly barricaded. Some provisions and a little water had been hastily carried there. Our force now numbered twenty men. That night we were attacked, but the natives, unable to'withstand our steady fire, fell back. There are perhaps some living now who remember the gallant defence. OnJdie second day our ammuni tion was alljpost exhausted, and we had long been without water. The natives were preparing bundles of dry fern to seb fire to our roof. This would have been done long before, but it had been wet by recent rains. -

For two long days we had held our little fortress, but that night we:expected nothing but a fearful death, when .to our great joy we were rescued by a party of forest rangers, who quickly dispersed the natives, killing and wording several. We were saved, and it- was with thankful hearts that we prepared to march towards Auck land, guarded by our brave deliverers. We reached that city without any more adventures. Once there, we did not venture into the country again till long after the war was over, and New Zealand had once more settled down peacefully.

A WEEKS CAMPING OUT.

SECOND PJtIZB.

By Ethel Bull, -Mount Eden.

" Hukrah !" School was over, Christmas holidays begun, and oh such lovely weather that all hearts rejoicedfumt it was during the second week that the merry party with whom our story has to deal with had such cause for merriment, for were they not going to have a whole delicious week of camping out, and -only those who have camped out know how delightful it is. Our party consisted of Jack and Ethel Edler, Willie and Julia Anderson, Mr Jackson and his four children, Ray, Bertie, Charlie and Alice. Just fancy a whole week camping out! Why the mere notion of itseflt them wild with delight, and as most of them had never camped out before it would be a pleasant novelty. The favoured place is the Waifcakerei Falls, where they hadnever been before, so everything would be new to them. ! \ At last the longed-for day arrived * and high were the spirits of the whole party as they met together at Mount Eden etafcioa at the unfashionable hour of seven in the morning, as they wished to have the whole day before them on account of the heat. " I know ,we have missed the train !" exclaimed Alice and Ethel in one breath, but their fears were not verified, for the train just came in sight. Merrily they bundled in, opened all the windows, and their heads were out of the windows till they arrived at Swanson, where they jumped out. After buying one or txrp things at the Temperance Store, and seeing their baggage safely off under the care of some gum-diggers who were bound in that direction, they started off by the track over the hills. About fifty yards from the station is a brictee over which the more ad venturous passed after Some hesitation, and the timid went farther down. Striking in^tp the bush, they took their way laughing, and in the highest spirits, when a scream from Alice, who was in the front, startled all. A pig had darted across the track just under her feet and nearly knocked her qver. Coming along they had noticed the ground turned over in every direction, and hadj wondered what had done " ifc. -JNpw, the mystery wa» wived. After ft sjteep

climb through a lovely bush, where they obtained some stout sticks that helped them along greatly, they arrived at the top of a hill from where they obtained a distant view of the Palls, now about three miles away. Down in the valley below is a small farm where they obtained water. The woman, after a great deal of talk, showed them a road which led to the Falls and which she declared was " The only proper road." By keeping direct to the road, and only stopping once to have lunch, for the girls declared they were starving, and I can tell you the others were not behindhand in eating their shave, they arrived at the Falls about two o'clock. Their baggage had arrived hours before, and so everyone was soon busy the boys pitching the tents of which there were two, the girls- unpacking the provisions and clothing, but with all their spread, it was past five before everything, was in order. Then they prepared tea, and after that they did the proper thing, lighted a huge, tire, roasted potatoes, and by turns, told stories till past ten- o'clock, when Mr Jackson ordered them off to bed as he said they would be fit for nothing the next morning. 0 what fun they had, planning all they would do, what places they would visit and such like. I don't believe one of them had a wink of sleep that night, yet they were all as fresh and jolly in the morning as if they had slept the whole night. Alice roused up first. " I say what fun it would be to bathe in one of those darling little pools *>c saw last night," she cried. "We will! we will," cried Ray, clapping her hands. " Hush, don't let the others heur us" said Ethel excitedly, and so waking Julia, they all stole quietly out of their tent. " What a magnificent day !" said Julia, but ttie stick gave way on which she was balancing her self and she tumbled in the mud below with a scream, and when Ethel laughingly assisted her up she was a pretty picture. How they did enjoy themselves in their X^ools. They were loth to get out, and when they related their delightful experiences, the others sped down to enjoy themselves in a like way. After breakfast all except Mr Jackson and Jack Edler, for they had decided it would hot be safe to leave the tents alone, so a certain number should re main each day, took their lunch and went to explore. What fun they had, tumbling into puddles amid shrieks of laughter, bruising and scratching themselves in o.Very possible way. But what did they care ? During their excited search they found some lovely ferns and bush flowers and their merry faces and laden baskets bore witness as to the way they had spent the day when they returned home hungry, but quite ready to do it all over again. Next day Alice, Ethel, Willie Anderson and Bertie Jackson stayed to guard the tents. After performing some of their duties such as replenishing the fire and fetching up water, they took to explor ing the vicinity of the Falls which I have not ye* described. There were three Falls, all of different sizes. Their tents Avere pitched near the largest one, which they admired tho most as the water rushing down nearly deafened them. It is a groat pity that this Fall -has been made rather open by a large fire which has destroyed the surrounding trees. At the foot of the second Fall is a large pool which they called " Our Bath " and in which they had bathed that morning. Early in the afternoon Ray and Charlie Jackson came back dripped and covered with mud, while crossing on a trunk of a tree over a, wide pool the treach erous branch had^given way, precipitating them both in tho water with the result already seen. " Let's make them a dinner that will be worth eating " voted Charlie. "Rightyou are," echoed the other two boys, and the girlshavinglaoghingly agreed, they set to work in good earnest, with the result that when it was eaten, the ungrateful party said that they would have to go on short commons as nearly everything had been cooked for dinner. "Catch us taking that trouble again," grumbled the disappointed cooks.

Next day, Thursday, Mr Jackson had to send to the station for more provisions, partly through that unlucky dinnei-, and partly through their own capacious appetites, and aa he volunteered to stay at the tent all their party set out taking their lunch. They had a long talk with the woman of the farm who was delighted to see them. They took ft rest on the top of the hill from where they could see the Falls. They arrived at the station about eleven, but then their way was all down hill. After obtaining their things at the Temperance Store, they started off again, crossing the bridge quite easily now. To their dismay they noticed the sky was a good deal overclouded, but they were too lighthearted to disturb themselves by evil forebodings. They had lunch half way up^he hill, as it took them double the time to get up the hill. Then, and only then, did they notice there werei heaps of dark clouds about. " Surely it can't be going to rain ?" re!* marked Ray, dismally. At this c vary one exclaimed : "Of course not. Donothintafcsuchathing !" "Whyof course," and Ethel's face lighted up, " they are night clouds." 11 Yes, I am sure it is fearfully late, let's hmry, "cried Julia, but notwithstanding this argument, their spirits were considerably dampened ; for though no one had a watch, yet the time could not have passed so quickly as all that. They arrived at the Falls about two o'clock and found Mr Jackson anxiously watching the weather, as he, knew that Christmas week was rarely finei . Alas! before any time had passed a drizzling rain set in, and steadily increased. MrJacksonhad all the luggage packed up, for he said that though they woul<i certainly stay if it cleared up, it would be no good staying in the wet. Our party had stftl some hopes, and retired cheerfully to bed at an early hour; but in; the middle of the night Alice awoke (she and Ethel slept together), and still that wretched rain was going on, harder than ever it seemed to her. Her foot feeling cramped she' moved it, when suddenly she felt something wet. "Somebody has been playing tricks," she said, andj awakening Ethel, she lit" tjhe candle,' "Ugh! Wh&fc is it ?'V cried Ethel, also, feeling it; and looking up she cried, "Why, All, just look; the rain is. coming through." ;'''■■ €ire>t was the laughter when similar ejaculations were heard in the other teat. Not much sleep did any of them have afte that, as some creatures sfcefcing protection from the rain crawled ia the tents and greatly disturbed them. But woebegone were their faces when Mr Jackson told them to get ready to start, After a stormy meeting they decided that it would be no good stepping in the rain. Carts met them a short way off. ' Alice, Ethel, Willie Ander son arid the two Jacksons went, in one; Mr';Jackson,-Bay, Jack Edler and Julia Mderson in the other.. The roads were fearful, and once their cart, stuck so firm in the mud thati they all had to jump out. But they soon caught up to the other cart which they found at a stand-still on account of a tree fallen right across the road, and iiotall theii: united efforts could move it. They were in despair when some n*en apr peared, who helped them, bulj.it was a long time ,before they were ready to start, It was very lucky that Mr Jackson had taken into account such stoppages, but af ifc was, they were, not a bit too. soon, for the train steamed in soon after they arrived; The boys obtained some lollies af> the stove, an^they %$a th«im in the train,. An old gunMJigger;; gqt in atr Ayoj^ale,. and he amused.tne# greatly by ; rejafeing all his ad T ventures, x They arrived at the Mo.uiit Eden, station-just in time to catch the. 'hue, [and now, when they are all comfortable and. relating their adventures to interested hearers, we will bid adieu to our ''Christ maiJJwrt&v" ''t: ? '-I "son?" PA . ■[/,,,

Prize Humorous Paragraphs.

KITPETf.

By Thomas Shaw, Riverueatj,

In a fertile little valley on tho borders of Te Uriwera country lived John Dower, a sheep-farmer. Perhaps he lives there still. His neighbours were all Maoris, and being an admirer of the race, he one "day took unto himself a Maori wife. Her name was Rangi. AH went well for some time, until Rangi began to have sulky fits, which Mr Dewer could not account for. _ It was jealousy was Rangi's failing, for if her hus band only spoke to another girl Rangi sulked. John leturned home one evening, tired and hungry. Entering the house, he could see no signs of the ordinary repast, and Rangi was sitting on the floor sulking. " Well, well, what is this ? Where is the supper?" inquired her'husband, in a morti fied tone.

" No supper," mumbled Rangi. " Well, you're a nice cup o' tea, anyhow ! he exclaimed.

" A what?" she angrily inquired. John was not easily put out of temper, so he paced backwards and forwards on tho verandah without .speaking. In the gather ing gloom he re-entered the room and made a discovery. Rangi was gone.

In solemn conclave were squatted the chiefs and elders of the tribe. For four days they had been trying to fathom the meaning of the word " kup.ebi." Rungi had complained to her father. " He called me a*' kupeti.' " Still the rangitiras sat and smoked, smoked and sat, as much puzzled as Belshazzar's guests. But on the fifth day a chief solved^it by saying, " Foul is the in sult, • kupeti ;' vile is the word ' kupoti;' time was when blood alone would satisfy us. , But the utu, the payment, thin time shall be ten sheep, two pigs, double barrelled gun, and a blanket. I have spoken." This fine was agreed to, and was paid ; Rangi returning to her husband.

PRIZE CONUNDRUM.

By T. L. White,

Why is the Waitoa stuff like the prosent commercial' crisis ?— Answer: Because it abounds in filings, and the materials dealt with are generally r&fractory, and not sol vent. The following conundrums were placed second and third in the competition : — What is the difference between tho embalmed corpse from America, and tiho Right Rev. Dr. Cowie ?—Answer: One ia a sometime departed Bishop just arrived, and the other is a sometime arrived Bishop just departing. Clkrxocs. Why is cho Christmas number of tho Evenint: Stak like a freak of nature and pedigree wonder of the world ?—Answer : Because it has many tales (tails) grown from prize heads. Wortu.MAX.

HAPPY CHRISTMAS.

May sunshine and gladness follow, Where'er thy lot may bo, And thy heart, liko this Christmas greet ing, From sorrow and grief bo free. Zeitgma.

A TENDER WISH.

I wish that Happiness may throw Her brightest sunbeams o'er thy way ; And hide thee 'neath her golden wing, Till life's rough storms havo passed away Ala isa ma Sam.

THE CHRISTMAS MESSAGE.

Summer in the South Land ; Winter in the North ; Still old Father Christmas Smiling comes forth. Still tho grand old message— Theme for poet's pen— Sounds from heaven's portals, 11 Peace, good-will to men !" Taraweka,

GOOD CHEER.

A happy now year and abundance of cheer To drive away cure for a season ; And who will not lend a good hand to his friend, May he be imprisoned for treason.

NORTHERN LIGHTS AND SOUTHERN CROSS.

Where the Northern Lights are glancing Pile the hearth with Christmas logs ; Mirth and.music, feast and dancing- Send all sadness to the dogs ! Where the Southern Cross is gleaming, Ap 'mid summer woods wo roam Memory evermore is dreaming Of the friends and scenes of Home !

A CHRISTMAS LOVE-SONG.

I heard in the golden sunrise The tui's sweetest song, And the bell-bird chimed in chorus The clover fields among. Oh ! what did they sing, my darling, What was their happy lay ? 'Twas : " A true heart sends a greeting To thee, this Christmas Day." Fairfield. .'

GREETING TO DISTANT FRIENDS.

Soft winds, whose gentle pinions cool out summer heat to-day,; As fche New Year dawns in glory o'er the ■ sea, ' ■' ' ;' ' Shall bear my hearty greeting to those so far away, A happy,, glad New Year to thine and : thee* Rmo Rmo.

"RING IN THE NEW."

Ring in the glad New Year with joyous pealing While Summer spreads her golden wealth around, ' And balmy breeaes through the woodland stealing O'er ail the country bear the gladsome sound. Riro Rmo.

PEACE AND LOVE

Within pur.sunny southern Isle, Where Peace her snowy wings displays, The leaf is green, and sweet flow'rf smile And blush 'neath Summer's golden ray, And heav'n and earth, in joy unite, To bless this tide of peace and love. Oh, may no shade of sorrow blight These blessings sent thee from above ! ,„:,;./'' : ', ■>', [ ... t , . Thalia.

BENEVOLENCE.

Christmas is with us again, , tfringingits festive joys, Christmas,, is with us again, Welcome by girls and.boys. While we are happy and gay, , Let*s give a thought to the poor, Remember on, Christmas Day 1 nobody frow your door. o rfV - ;.; Lights of Londok.

WALTER'S GIFT.

A TALE OF TWO CHRISTMAS EVES,

By Geo. Barker, Dairy Flat.

,^fN§s®3 AIL ! Christinas, season of joyous otIrMC anticipation to the young! Iffifltf Halloaed by past memories str&lr to those of riper years! Bright W^'fe alike t0 all in the K lorioLls .^fc&g^lSai/c, promise of its advent 1 . •^SM^s some ' l^s recurrence brings r v?' Bacl recollections, but mingled with their pain is a bitter-sweet thought. Bitter in that they are parted from thei? loved ones ; sweet in the trust that, at the second great Christmas Day, when He shall come, not as " the babe in lowly manger laid," but " in majesty and glory they shall mest again. Chapter I. "Good-bye, sweetheart, good-bye.." Ralph and Walter Annitage were the sons ot an early settler in the Waikato Their father liad in dying left thorn joint heirs to a considerable estate. / At the time when our story opens Ralph was 24 years old, and the senior toy about three years. Near to their property resided a Captain Esmond, an old friend of their late fathor. He bad but one child, a daughter. Kath leen Esmond was '' sweet seventeen'," pos sessor of a pair of liquid violct-bluo eyes, brown hair, shot wil.h a golden .sheen", a pretty, rather than a handsome face, and a softly-roundqd figure that promised a glorious womanhood. Living in such clos:e proximity, and inti mate connection, need it be wondered that both brother* conceived affection for one so altogether loveable. Walter, however, was the chosen of the twain. He was a handsome young fellow, of excellent heart, possessing an open and generous disposition, .somewhat in antago nism to his elder brother, who was oi a more secretive temperament, and less fa-, voured by Dame Nature with gifts of person and of mind. It becoming necessary that one of the brothers should proceed to Mel bourne, in connection with some legal business appertaining to property situate in Victoria, which matter was somewhat in tricate, and likely to involve a lengthened stay, the choice was thrust on, rather than sought by, Walter, who, however, made due E reparations, but determined to speak co aptain Esmond, and to learn his fate from his beauteous daughter ero his departure. Captain Esmond had no objections to offer; indeed, ho would have accepted either brother as a suitor for his daughter's hand, and was pleased indeed that Walter had spoken, but he would not consent to any thing definite being said to her until Walter's return from Melbourne. "For," he said, " you are young: you have no ex perience of tho world. See other women, and be certain of your heart; then, if you can, on your return, win Kathleen's consent, of which I can hardly doubt, I will gladly give her to you." Walton sought her in the garden, and found Kathleen wandering amidst her flowers.

Tho girl was ill al eaao. She had heard of Walter's early departure, und, mingled with tiho hoiiro of loss which she felt his absence would create, a new and strange emotion lilled her heart.

Of Kive, save that siio gave her father, .six; kntKv not. She had heard, and read, of the other love, and hud sometimes con jured np the"image of the "young tirinco who would a-wooing come." Was Walter thatprUce? she asked her heart. Response came nai:, but an nndol'umblo sensation. That who was aliyui, to bo separated from whai had become part of her life, oppressed her.

Walter had no doubt of his love, and would havo boldly declared himself, for he was not such as

" Either Tears his fato too much, Or his doscrts are aimUL Who dares not put it, to the touch, To win or lose It all." But' his lips were sealed by her father's wishes, and his tacit acquiescence.

The feelings of each were constrained, " Kathleen, I havo come to pay good-bye," said lw.

For a moment she stood with drooping eyes, without reply, then answered simply ; " So soon?" a sudden palenesa showing in her face The tone and look convinced Walter that if he could but speak, lie need not fear the answer.

He rapidly and in an embarrasse.l manner told her that, in consideration of their long friendship, her father had consented to thd correspondence which it had been arranged should pass between them during nis absence, and promised to write at once <5n arrival; she on her Bide promising to duly answer his letters. Thin and other small matters served for a disjointed conversation as they slowly paced the shrubbery—the scene of so many another conversation in happier hours. At length the impending moment of parting came. Walter affected a cat'eldss ncss which greatly" belied his throbbing heart.

" Give mcf a flower, doar maid, said ho,"

ho half sung. Kathleen smiled, a poor little smile, at his affectation of sentimentality; but* as answer, stooped and plucked a flower, and handed it to him, saying,— " I hardly expect yon to treasure it hear your heart," as the song says. "Heartsease," said 'Walter, '"which assuredly I don't possess at present, for I can hardly bear to say good-bye." Whilst speaking, he had taken her unre sisting hands in his, continuing^.—" You will think of me, sometimes, Kathie dear ! and of the happy times we have passed to gether." "Yes, Walter, always," she answered, witih a half sad, half joyful tone, in the voice he loved so well. ,

Fearful of breaking his implied promise, Walter pressed one light kiss upon her brow, and was gone.

Many were tho regrets that accompanied ■Walter's departure, for he was a general favourite. One man openly spoke ihis pleasure, Mike Callaghan, the Captain's mun-of-all-work, whom Walter had; chas tised some time previously for aai insult to fcho daughter oPone of their own hands, but wJio had been no further punished, at her intercession, on account of his aged mother being dependent upon him. One other was glad in secret—his brother.

Chapter 11. "As the tint brothers stood."

Tho life of Waiponga went on with Its accustomed quietude. Two months had gone by since Walter's departure. His brother had heard of his safe arrival, and of some business matters, but Kathleen had received no letter. She wondered at this, for had he not promised to write to her directly he was settled. She. thought per haps he had been too busy, and that the next mail would bring her the eagerly looked for letter. As the date of its arrival drew near, she "became feverishly anxious, so much so, that tit; did not escape notice. Ralph Armitage had since his brother's departure become, a constant visitor at the' cottage, and one morning, as the father and daughter sat at breakfast, he lounged in. After the customary salutations, ho said, — " Oh, by the way, Captain Esmond, I've had a letter from Walter this morning, full of news. The business is going on all right, and Master Walter appears to be having quite a good time, .Nothing but picnics arid water^parties, Miss thia and Miss the other. I'm afraid that city life will spoil him for our quiet ways and homely enjoy ments." I '/• it :: . ;, ,'.,.. ;,■.,!

Tnts speech was a poisoned shaft aimed directly at Kathleen. Turning to1 her he con tinued : . " Have you heard from riiy brother? Kathleen, biting her lips with vexation, answered': , " No, I suppose he has too many engage ments, and has made too many new friends to think about oi 5 give a time to those ot older standing." , , She managed to say this much witti a show of carelessness, then hastily quitted the room. Hurt, and mortified, she sought her own apartment, and gave vent to her feelings in tsars. , Why had Walter so impressed upon her his desire, and promise to write ? Was this his friendship, which indeed even to her innocent mind had seemed so like undeclared love—she who had given her whole confidence, and who had almost betrayed a feeling deeper than friendship ? Womanly pride came to the aid of her outrayed feelings. If he can so lightly forget, why not I ? If a man can woo, and ride away, was a girl to wear the willow for his sake ? bhe turned tho matter every way, in her poor struggle to forget the happy hours that they had spent together. She could not forget, but she put away her sorrow and determined to live it down. Her father was angry for his child s sake, for he saw the cause of trouble to her young heart; but he could hardly approach the matter directly, and unconsciously played the very part that Ralph would have assigned to him. For he had said to her :— "I am more than surprised at VValter Arraitag'e's conduct' in ignoring us after our long friendship, but we will try^ and forget him, until ho dhpOHC to explain." Six months elapsed, nnd although Ralph had several times heard from his brother, no direct news had reached Kathleen. Strange to say Ralph had no message to her from- the absentee, or at least he said so. He could have cleared the mystery, and ho would, but he had long since determined to take advantage of his brother's absence to endeavour to win Kathleen as his wife. Ho knew that there was no distinct en gagement, and argued to himself that all was fair in love, but could not blind him self to his dishonour in the course he was taking. Although he could not understand the non-arrival of the promised letters^ he gladly took advantage of this, to him, stroke of fortune, nor sought an explanation. He became assiduous in his attentions to Kathleen, and the poor girl, somewhat heart-sore, was glad of a friend. Ralph spoke to Captain Esmond, who could offer no objection to him. He then approached Kathleen, he pleaded his love, winch he asaerted was not of a day. He spoke of his brother, saying that so long as he had thought Walter was about to declare himself, ho had stood aloof, but that now, when from all they could hear, his brother was happy enough without any home ties, he felt his hands unfettered, and finally asked Kathleen to become hia wife. The poor girl asked for time to consider his proposal, and promised to give an answer within a week. She sought her father, but he was fain to confess that during a visit to Auckland lie had spoken with a friend recently returned from Melbourne, who had seen Walter, and that it was becoming rumoured that he was engaged to a beautiful and rich young lady, although his informant was careful to add that bo far as he knew it might be but mere gossip. Her father said he had not spoken before of this, as he had not wished to re- Open the Old wound, which to all appear ance was fast healing. This news decided Kathlean, and without even giving herself time to think, she gave Ralph the desired promise. - It was arranged that the wedding should take place in about two weeks, and as an old college friend of tho captain's was about to pay a visit at Christmas, he being in holy orders,, should be asked to celebrate the wedding oh Christmas Day. ■ All days were alike to Kathleen at this timo, and far from resenting the hastening of the nuptials, she almost appeared eager to have the matter finally settled. On Christanafl Eve Ralph was sitting in his study, thinking of the morrow, and of his bride, wonderine what Walter would gay and do when he heard the news, for, coward-like, he had not written his brother of the impending marriage. His reverie was interrupted by tho clattering: of hoofs outside, and ore he cowld barely riso to in quire into the unexpected arrival, Walter burst into the room.

" Well, Ralph, here I am, hungry and tired. Did you get my letter ? No ! then I have outridden Her Majesty's mail." He had been speaking boisterously and rapidly, but his tone had changed as he paw his brother's face, which Was ashy-pale, and no ticed that Ralph did not attempt to take hU proffered hand. " What's the matter, Ralphf he continued. "Cant you speak? Are you illi or can it be that you are not glad to see me ? Well, if my brother will not greet me, I will CO down to tho cottage and see if they will welcome the prodigal con, although I roust be in bad odour there, as I have had no replies to my letters or mes sages. Perhaps, however, I may bo able to explain matters." With this, Walter moved towards the door.

" You mußt not go there," cried Ralph, hoarsely. •• Surely there is nothing thS matter? Ralph, speak !" " No," said Ralph, abruptly. " Then," asketi Walter, with a puzzled air, " what, in,the name of fortune, doea all this mean?"

Ralph!, who had been bracing himself to the effort, answered hurriedly and quickly, " Miss Esmond is to be married to-morrow."

Starting back in amazement, and for the moment deprived of speech, Walter.'at length asked, in bioken tones, " Mailed, to-morrow, to whom ?"

Ralph did not answer, until the queries were Repeated. Then, avoiding his brother's eye, he said, " To:me." For a moment* Walter stood as if trans fixed. Then, stepping forward, he erasped his brother's wrist, saying, "Is this true, or is it a horrible dream ?"

Ralph answered not, but shrank from'his brother's touch.

Walter's face grew hard, and atern, arid a fiance shot from his eyear under whjchfhis rother quailed. A tone of,deep sorrow and despair sounded in his voice, as he de manded:--" Brother, is/.this well done?".

There game no response from Ralph's white lips, and an awful pause ensued, j "I will not curse my father's son," Walter continued, "but he and I niuat henceforth be as strangers. Asfor Kath leen ~> V,;. ';//■ "

"You will not see her?" interrupted Ralph with trembling voice. ; "No, what claim have ,1 on her?"' I shall go away at once. Any action on my part will but proclaim a brother's dishonour. Good-bye, Ralph ; perhaps we may never meet again. I cannot at this moment Wish you happy. My last hopo is that you will be good to* her, my lost love." Forth from the paternal, roof-tree he passed. The season,, which above and beyond all others is the one of peace and goodwill beheld tho parting of home-ties, the wrenching asunder of one of, the holiest bonds. ; ' .

GHAI'TER 111.

" Coals of Fire."

A year had cpmo and almost gone sinoe Walter Armitage had become a wanderer. He had been homo, and visited tho,places made familiar po hun by the conversations of his father and Captain Esmond. His great disappointment and solitary life had thrown him more upon himself, but being of iv strong, intellectual nature, this had expanded rather than contracted his mind,'and the outcome was a chastened but en,uoWed,apkit, ,' , >; ; , ~ , - ;

In Londen he felt strangely alone; the thousands hurrying around him, he the unit lonely. Ho "heard of, and saw, the mad whirr of pleasure, but he had no tastd to join the pursuit. Dissipation had no charm for him, and the smiles of wanton beauty did not lure. The memory of a sweet face haunted him, go where ho would, and al though the deep pain had ceased, he was long ere he could calmly look back upon the past. , Back again in his own country, he ex perienced a strange longing to look once more upon familiar; scenes, to hear the voices that he once, nay still, loved. With this feeling all-pervading, can we wonder that on the eve of Christmas Day we find him riding toward his old home. He had been delayed upon his journey, but had determined to push on. Night fell,, and found him some distance from his .des tination. Favoured by a brilliant moon light he rode on, thoughts of the past crowding thick upon him. His horse 'noticing'the abstraction of its rider, was making but little progress. Walter was wondering, how would she greet him ? Was she much altered ? He knew that she was happy, or at least what the world calls happy, for he hadheard this much/indirectly, his informant adding that Ralph's mar riage appeared to have made a wonder ful°change for the better in him.,, How would Ralph meet him, and what should he on his part say to put his brother at ease, for in'his heart he had long since forgiven him, bitter though the wrong had been. Neaving his destination he was recalledto his present position by the evident lateness of the hour. Looking at his watch, he saw it was after1 twelve o'clock. " So Into," ho exclaimed ; "no matter, I won't disturb them, but stable my horse, and shake down anywhere. It won't be the first time."

Mounting the last ridge that shut out the view of the houses, ho gained the summit. For one instant he paused horror-struck, then exclaiming, " My God ! Fire !'' he dashed down the hill. Ride, Walter, ride. On! on! good horse. Ho had seen the tongues of flame leaping from his old home. Ho was nearly two miles away. The minutes seemed ages as he madly urged his panting Hteed to fresh exertions. The short time that had elap.ied since his first viow and his arrival at the house had sufficed to convert the house into a mass of flames, and at almost a glance Walter saw the old home was doomed —but what of its inmates ? As he threw himself from his horse, he became aware of an excited knot gathered upon the lawn. Rushing1 towards them, " la everyone safe ?" he shouted. Kathleen x-ecognised the voice, and emerging from the little crowd, ran towards him.

" Your brother—the study !" she cried in agonised tones. There is no time for explanations. Wai? ter ran towards the burning pile, despite the cries of the men that it was useless, and certain death.

Deuth ! What recked he of the grim tyrant ? Was his life so excellent, or useful, that he should fear him ?.

Into the circle of blinding smoke and flame he went, through what had been the doorway. He staggers to the study door. One (fiance — a still inanimate form. He raises his brother. Half dragging, half carrying him he regains the passage, his brain is on fire. Scorched and blinded by the smoke he yet keeps on his way. One struggle more, he cannot. A weight as of lead oppresses his senses. With one last supreme effort h<i drags his brother yet nearer the pure aii;, then all is blank.

Willing hands drag Ralph outside the danger, then turn to Walter. Too late ! With a crash and shower of sparks a mass of burning wood-work falls tlpW'hfnt, and the flames shoot up as if in joy that one moro victim is added to their fatal list.

When Walter next became conscious of mundane affairs, he was stretched upon a bed at the cottage. His senses came back to him, as it were, one byone. He knew there had been a fire, that he had tried to save his brother, that he was hwrt—yes, hurt even unto death. Slowly he opened his eyes. They fell first; upon Kathleen, fcemlerly hanging over him with cooling bandages, who, Beeing his eyes unclose, exclaimed, ''Thank God, he is conscious !" "My brother,",. he murmured, • "Is nearly recovered. Oh, Walter ! what a bome-conungi Are you in much pain ?" "Not much," oamo the feeble answer. "How did this happen, -Kathio |" i . " Ralph had persisted in returning to the house to fetch some valuable papers, when he was overcome, by the fumes. You had saved your, brother when you were struck down By falling timber. I never thought to see you alive, but thanks to the brave exertions of the men, you were got out, and will, I hope, soon be well. The doctor will be here in afew hours."

"He can do but little for me, I fear," was the low response. - "" Oh, Walter! do not say co. Bear up, all may yet be well/* she said in tearful tones. "No Kathie j I feel that life is ebbing fast away. Do not cry ; it is perhaps bean so."

" Do not say your home-coming will cost you and us so dearly," she exclaimed amidst her sobs.

" But you must not waste your strength by talking—try and rest." , „,„ ' " J3o not leave, me— 'tis but for a little time longer," pleaded Walter in weaker tones. ■ ■

Exhausted'by even this brief conversation he sunk into a'-semi-unconscious state, which lasted nearly two hours. Awaking with a start ho exclaimed, as though he had forgotten something, "'■' . •• Where is Ralph ?" "Here, Walter," came the brother's response. Turning his eyes he fixed them with the old-tima look of love upon his brother's face, faintly saying— , . .-; "My brother." It'was enough ; Ralph knew that he was forgiven. A '•I want to speak to Kathleen alone/ continued Walter. . 'V-'. '•'' '■''■

Ralph glanced quickiy in his brother's face, who answered with his eyes, simply adding— , ■•< ; "Iknow;" '>•'.> '-. ': I m: '

With a last pressure of his hand Ralph slowly left the room, knowing in his heart that Walter,would be loyal and not betray his secret. He was weighed down by re morse. At this moment his repentance came, and he would have laid down his own life to save that of Walter,

: Waiter turned to Kathleen saying-r- '' " Kathie, is it morning ?" "Yes, Walter," she answered, for the rosy tinted heralds of day were fast dispel ling the lingering darkness, and paling the lamp's ineffectual rays. "Oh, what a sad Christmas Day," she continued, the bitter tears starting from her eyes, as she looked upon the form of Walter lying so passive, weak, and helpless as a child.

" Christmas Day," he echoed; "a year to-day since you were married. Did you wonder why I did not stay, or had you for gotten ? Why was it that you did not answer my letters ?"

" I never had them," she replied quickly, a sudden light dawning on her mind, that here was the secret which had parted them.

, Walter in his excitement almost raised himself from hw pillows, as he exclaimed in pitiful tones, "What horrible treachery is this ?"

The feeling pf pain and, weakness over powered him, and he sunk into quietude. Arousing himself he slowly and with laboured utterance, addressed himself him self to Kathleen, who stood with her cool hand upon his fevered brow. : ( " Kathie, my loye ? for I can say it now without dishonour, I cannot 6,ie without telling you that I loved you from first to last; true I was in word and deed. Fate has parted us, but if thee '«? a hereafter surety we shall meet again," , ; , ,

"50J ■ .-: -.~ Great tears rained from Kathleen's eyes a& she answered in broken tones :

" Do not doubt it, VValtev." lJ \ After a while, growing calmer, he said : " Tell me the old story of Christmas." ' She knelt by hia side, her hands in his, and told him of the coming of the Saviour, of His life on earth, and dwelt, in conclu sion, on how that He gave Hia life that others might live. A great joy seemed to light up Walter's face, and as her voice died away he whis pered : . . " Kiss me, Kathie." She leaned over him, pressing her pure lips to his brow ; but when she looked upon his face, she saw that, he had joined the martyr throng.

Accident some time after brought to light the fact that Mike Callaghan, who/ amongst other duties, acted as postboy,,, had abstracted the letters, in revenge, but too accurately, guessing that their hour receipt would work mischief to Walter. "[, Ralph's repentance was sincere, and his after life made some atonement for the past, Kathleen deeply mourned the loss of him whom to her was ever her lost love; and,, stripped of all carnal taint, purified by pain," treasured the memory of his self'sicri-, rice. .. •

Succeeding years found her, accompanied by a noble boy, laying pure-hued flowers upon a simple cross, which marks the place or Walter Armitage's sleep—life's fitful fever ended. . • .

HOW THE PRINCESS'S PRIDE WAS BROKEN.

By Howabd Pye.

Author of " Pepper and Salt," Etc.

Theee was a Princess' who was as pretty as a picture, and she was so proud of that that she would not so much as look at the lads who came a-wooing. This one was too young, arid that one was too old; this one one was too lean, and that one was too fat; this one was too little, and that one was too big-; this one was too dark-, and that one was top fair ; so there was never a white sheep in the whole flock, as one mie"ht say.

Now there was a good, tight bit of a lad whose name was Florimel, who was a King, in his own country, and a fine one at that. The only thing wrong about him was that he had a mole on hia chin ; apart from that he was as fresh as milk and rose leaves.

Well, he came courting with the rest; but when the Princess saw him she burst out laughing. ''Who would choose a specked apple from the basket '•" said she ; and that was all the cake the Prince bought at thatßhop, for off he was packed. But he was not' for giving up—not he. No, he went and dressed himself up in rags and tatters ; then back he came again, atld not a soul knew him.

Rap, tap, rap ; he knocked at the door. And did they want a stout lad about the place? Well, yes ; there were wanting a goose herd, and if the lad liked the place he might have it.

Oh, that fitted his wants like a silk steck ing, andjthe'next day he drove the geese up on the hill back of the King's house, so that they might eat grass where it is fresh and green. By-and-by he took.. a. golden' ball out of his pocket and began tossing it up and catching it, and as he played with it the sun shone on it so that it dazzled one's eyes to look at it. The Princess sab at her-window, and it was not long before she saw it, I can tell you. Dear ! dear ! but it was a pretty one —the goldon .ball. The Princess would like to have such a plaything; so she scut one of; the maida out to ;ask whether the gooseherd bad a mind to sell it. v Oh yes, it was for sale; the Princess should have it for the kerchief which she wore aboufc her neck.

Prut! but the lad was a saucy one; that was what the Princess said. Bub after all a kerchief was * only a kerchief; fetch the gooseherd over and she would give it to him, for she wanted the pretty golden ball for her own, and she Would have it if it was to be had. •

But no ; he would not come at the Princess's bidding. If she wanted to buy the golden ball she must come up on the hill and pay him, for he Wa«snot going to leave his flock of geese, and have them waddling into the garden perhaps ; that is what the.gooseherd said* • So the upshot of the matter was that the Princess went oqtwith her women, and gave the lad the kerchief up on the hill behind the hedge, and brought back the golden ball with her; ' . . *,1 ',i'< rrtlA I

As for the* goo.«eherd, he just tie^ the kerchief around his arm so that everybody might see it, and all the folks said, " Hi! that is the Princess's kerchief."

The next day when'he "drove, hisilock of geese up on the hill he tookasilver looking glass and a golden comb out of his pockety and began, to comb his hair, and ybu should have seen how they glistened in the sun. , As for the Princess, it took her no longer to see the comb and the looking-glass than it had the golden ball, and bhen she must and would have them, for she thought she had never seen anything so pretty in pll of her life. And was the lad. of a mind to sell them? now that was what she wanted to know. . , ■ - "';;' /,,.,' ;, ■ : /, r

Oh,'well, since the Princess asked so prettily, the-lad supposed he would have to let her have them ;. all the same, she must give him something in return, arid it should be the golden necklace she wore about her throat, and she must 6ome and give it to him up on the hill back of the hedge, for he could not think" of leaving his iiock of geese. ■The Princess made a fade, but the goose herd would take nothing hiore nor, less than what he had said; so she and her maids "tucked up'their dresses and went up on the hill; there she paid him his price,, arid brought home the silver looking-glass and the golden comb. The lad clasped the .'necklace about his throat, and, dear ! dear,! how. all the folks did giggle and Stare! "See," said they, "the Princess has been giving the goose herd the necklace from about her own throat!"; , ; - . , ;i

The third day it was a new thiri^ the pooseherd had, for he brought out a musical box, with figures on it dressed up and look ing for all the world like real little men and women. He turned the handle, and when the music played it was sweeter than drops of honey. As for the little men and women, why, they bowed to one another and then went through with a dance, for all the world as if they knew what they1 were about, and were doing it with their own wits. : '

Good gracious ! how the Princess did open her eyes, and how she stared when she saw the pretty musical box! She must have it at any price; but this time 'it was ! five-and-twenty kisses that the lad was wanting for his musical box, and he would take nothing more nor less than jusb that for it. More over, she would have to come up on the hill-side and give them to him, for lie could not leave his geese even for five-and-tveuty kisses;-, ■

But you should have seen what a stew the Princess was in at this. Five-and twenty kisses indeed! And did the fel low think that it was for the likes of her to be kissing a poor gooseherd? He might keep his musical box if that was what he was wanting for it. Asjpr the lad, why, he just played the music and played the music, and the more the Princess heard and saw, the more she wanted it. "After all," said she at last. " a kiss is only a kiss, and I will be none the poorer for giving pne or two of them;

Jnn(!.eße «nd. the gbo^h«fef *°*tie 1 then and there, and ftSSfS?^ I business, !Then.^ff;S3^PfS 1 they were not to iwKSSfcSS ft* *« 1 hls bundle to fc tSm ?&«** I had to take oil' her fine cJoSm'JH »>• I rags and tatters, and that 3r»P pub °> I came horaeif "■ .• ■■ ■,: > ;■; - : .. ?*^fV&' "Well," said the gowehnd «'/■ good endpf the bargainCttilMl^^. marrying ■ all the s^SJI^ best one can of a crQo|<t& stick It H** 0 is none other to be cut inffidiiSF r? little or .nothing you are fit fa 'l at, ' a a basket of eggs, anl W^ffi^ So off the poor i >rincesa'iWSiviij? ml the corner of the market wi&K By-and-by there came alone a tir■« —tramp! tramp'! t&fopi a\f , basket of, eggs, why, he ofofcj i°L the more than so many green %Ho^K*o • no and there they lay on the ground -mUI lib for nothing but to pih X? 9 Jinees, or; to card pig's v, : « -.f °" our town. - • "* As for the poor Princess, * 9 did nothing' but wring her hands ami eryand m f! she was afraid to go home 'toW husLui because of the hard wo^SffifißS: to (ling at her. All th« E an,e; &4S other placejfor her to go, so back «£ ■ There 1 heiilways knew ffiat^g w£| for nothing bub to look- at. and nowh e «»i more sure of it than eref j tjie :ebjs nfoC was never fit to send trp the wellJffi(Ht waa' a xainy d-ay for him . wjben he^rei^y a left-handed wife as the i)rincesaj:.thatf vvas what the gopseherd said. AlUheiiame i sire should try again. - This time she slioul! take a basket, of ap'pl^l^ijl^jj^^^i sell. So off, she went again. . Well/ by-and-by came a fellow d^tin? swipe, ais there. sat the Princes"Mtts'> way.;., That was bad luck '. for her,' foifiwerl tumbled the basket, and the sppteffetfi:. foiling all |b"out the : street. ( ■ W|g| tkj drove had passed, there was not a'stoglei apple tv be seen, for the nij^ had oateaj every one of them. So there was notlunjrfor the Princess but to g<; }.on.c isiiagwiUj her apron to her eyes. , l> ' " Yes, yes," ? lid the gtnweherd; "*- it ia as plain as reading and writing afci; the nose on your face'that you are just' f| for nothing at all. All the same. weJSipake one more try to mend the crack 'in your luck. The1 Kingup iCthe fcastle | married and is going to give a grarncl | They are wanting ft b&dy ni thf *i§||jS t« draw the water and chop the" v/oed, at i you shall go.and try your hand aUhj^and see what you can make olit.' Afiid^tetß is a basket; you .shall t|k'f it' toa|,jai)d bring home the kitchen gcr^pinsa for jraj per." ', ' . So off went tlje rrjnc.e^^tjiaT^Jisft) kitchen, and there g^e drew th 6 Ya^ afid = chopped the wood for the cook, After- her j work was done, the. cook .filleri herVtasket j full of the leavings frpm, the pots. a|| ; the ] pans.. . ....." ,' \ ■ ,j. ' : , i home, so she picked ;up her-baskeli,"^, off. slto weiit; ' Just ' outside '||o^| $||M soldiei-s. " Halt," said "they! the.lass whq.had been.chopDii!g tlie;vot)d| and drawing the water, for the cook thai day. Yes t Then gWtapligO falong wi^i; them, for she had been sent' for, and was wanted-upstairs. Npji-lf d^JW; pw for her to beg and to pray_ and •to cry md to wring her hands, ftfld it rdafefce|t^i JtdiA&g if her good man was waiting' for ber at homo ; she had been sent up yoqder^and she must g0,., She had only/ time to fling her apron over-her'ba||*|;ahd off-.tßey: marched her.' ... ■■, < ■ There sat the Idng on his golaen ,^nfone, dressed in golden robes, and with a golden crown upon his head. .. ■ . :,^ . ( "What have you; nwer your tptbn? :said thf Eing.' feutfto this.the B-iMcess. could not answer a singbwoM. ;%|»:: bodY: wlib stood near snatcMawWi, her apron, and there was'the basket full of kitchen scrapings. " ' , > .. Then"the King stepped'down.trom nu golden 'throne, dressed'al]' in".Bh:gto robes, and took the< Princess b|. to ton<L " Do toii riot kn6w lie?'; saidhfev^LooM, I am king Florimel; but I am the goose vet He was the tipsy, soldier,,;and,hati knocked over her basket of eggs..hffljelj, and more than that./he^^sgheri who had driven his pigs, over ty» ba| ? to apples,' so that ;were, iS mllei| a ground. But the Princess ,only,te^« head lower and lower; for her pride «as said King ,mv own:.sweetheart;" and he kisssdher, and seated her beside him. ■ , ...

THE BACHELOR'S BUGBEAR.

One Christmas Day w^f^^p: The broad,, secludedjicool vefl^h.; , And.talked of mamage»fro:>»W With; very unromaiticcanaoar^ -^ We spoke, as calmly.it wul4W •■ :Of Redded joys; a^Me^fgg g As though our coovepatioaetiiißßiß^ Wereiashions, races, or the gather, "The man to whom I gire myl«wd,"-; Said she, directly atMe]o^»§> «S&0 be 'well «WlW. i S 4 i 3ggt i Both making up hisbedand-coomg, I had intended to propose, _ Ande^S boil the beef or mifon^ .; To see me sewing on a batto^"

; .. Please tell me '-jS^t ?. Why; I told y»aS;S*iofpW» I another woman." •■' '•-,:- >™

THE ■ AUCKLAND = EVENING STAR, SATtIRI>A^ PEOEMBgR jjg_lgg|

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