THE AUCKLAND EVENING STAR, SATURDAY, APRIL 16,1887.

! SUPPLEMENT.]

MORNA DALE.

Thß Guardian's Forgery

Br gYLVANUS C 08.13, Jn

CHAPTER VIII. ~.,KKOR ! . +fl he had been .so unceremoniously fit -oh, and lifted upon a P dkl our take thought of ***' tnrm that had set in. The rain tbe neneed to fall in large drops bad commence. .^ sh° rtly, vmrt-vard of the burned house, and Uttered COXXTJ Qr had been when he "T^sed in a Hood. He had ob- W8S «d shortly before turning into the 8 ay where the ruffians had met him, TTricls w.ro rolling up from the of the Channel, piling themselves in CboP fc masses, and overspreading the gloom- S1 ** v TA-c n nail, r.nd he had fancied 1' htning and thunder were to follow. thlrt had been one advantage from the at that had been thrown over his »ut? e T t ], a( i come down so far over his that his clothing had been kept ?er3On™+ivelv dry. His coat-sleeves were the lower part of his pants, ffWave no thought to this. His chief i mof the dampness was given to ftomfortable weight that had been "55 Ato the heavy coverlet. It had f" „ soaked that it clung to his r his"soft Scotch cap or bonnet, which i wore for a head-covering, having no fJpncY towards bearing it away. n leneth every breath he inhaled drew rtfUiMM close against his lips, so that v. breathing became even more painfully ■ than it had been before, and once ahe P"t i°rth what efforfc he could to" A askin" that relief might be given him. ffiTaims t°o' were in pain> but he would j,,-, that if he could but gain a bit of S air to his exhausted lungs. By and h his captors seemed to understand him. Ho was aware that they spoke a few words neto the other, and presently the muffler was lifted away from his ear as before, and Z heard the same voice asking him if he would be perfectly quiet, and offer no re liance, if the gag were removed. He promised readily. He did not regard an attempt to escape in the light of resist ance And after a little time the cumber- Lie »as 3 was wholly lifted off from his head, and thrown upon the iloor of the reticle. . . 0! what a blessed relief ! Ihe captive youth expanded his chest to its utmost, and fairly revelled in the life-giving labour of breathing heaven's pure, fresh air. For a little time he could think of nothing else. As his broad bosom rose and fell, and life and strength returned, his thoughts wan dered away into a philosophical thesis on the wonderful properties of oxygen and the cala mitous results of being deprived of it. But he soon came out from this mood. With his breath perfectly restored, he be^an to view his situation and surround ings. It was intensely dark, and the rain fel in torrents ; yet, after a time, he was able to catch vague and indistinct outlines and shadowy forms. The moon must have been a considerable distance above the horizon, and that, notwithstanding the dense blackness of the clouds, had a ten dency to relieve the night of utter im penetrability. At all events, he could Mly determine that he was in a close coach-not unlike a clarence--that a man safcifMs side, while another occupied the but seat, and sat facing him. There ijerelarge panes of glass in the doors, and ; ■ otter glass forward. The doors were shut, and the glazed sashes closed. What with the closeness of the place, and the noisy rumbling of the wheels, and the tramping of the horses, Ralph thought it must be a powerful voice in trumpet tones that could reach ears outside. But he did not care to tiythe experiment. The next thought was of the direction in which lie was being- carried. Pie knew they were on the road that followed the shore of the Channel : so Walling Cove must be the first settlement they would reach. Could it be possible that this was the destination ? He resolved to speak. If be spoke modestly, they would not harm him for it. The most they could do would be not to respond. "Mates," he said, being careful not to rake his voice to a higher pitch than was absolutely necessary, " will you kindly tell me what this means ': Will you tell me whither you are carrying me ?" The answer wan prompt, and not un iind, though there was a ring of impatience bit,

"Not a great way farther, sir.'1 " What do yon propose to do with me?'1 "As true as the world I can't tell you. I don't know anything about it.'"' "You know not why I have been thus sized and dragged away from home and friends''"

"Idon'tknow nothink about it, sir," the man declared, with a spice of doggedness in tone and manner. "The man as knows fre'flfindatt' other end o' the woy'ge." " You can tell me—"

"Hold on !" the ruffian interrupted—the one at his side. " Don't ask nothink more. Just belay where you are." Believing that further speech would be useless, and, perhaps, worse, our hero re solved to hold his peace until a more favour able opportunity should present itself. -■ne.rain still poured down in a flood, and the night seemed to be growing more and more dark. At length, not more than «n minutes after he had heard .spoken, the raptive felt that the speed of the horses was wing slackened, and shortly thereafter an abrupt turn was made, and very soon they *ere going down an easy slope towards the wannel he knew, not only by the course Ponied, but he could distinctly hear the of the surf distinctly ahead. ~ , ntl now the puce of the horses was slackened until they were suffered to weep over the treacherous way only at a r? ntl careful walk. But it was not a peat while thus. At a short distance rL i turn tne coach came to a dead r7\L Ral Ph heard a man getting down onTm driver' B box- Shortly after this, «c ot the vehicle was opened, and the two ruffians got out. r» n ir W' my man ! !ook sharp — come ! u Ji you stand up ?" l bonm) eram Ped up in the coach, with his itX an? s Pressed against the padded JJJern back, Ralph °had not fully re hitti^K t .torture the bonds were giving of J- Dut»teame to him now in an agony »S^ r uld have been utterlyin 4t!nt v- ad not other things tended to rain tV v tho«ghts and feelings. The reallvZw f as fallin S » torrents, was and it^ efu •■ Ifc cooled his fevered brow, WttofV a towards rendering the w nt °.f, arms less acute and agonizing. clo2 Wl* standing the density of the 1 lfle presence of a moon, so near

its full, did much towards breaking the utter gloom. The captive could make out that three men were engaged in his abduc tion, and that one of them must have driven the horses on their way, as there was no one on the coach-box now.

He discovered, further, that the man who appeared to be the leader of the; trio was by far the tallest and most powerful of the party. He was, in short, about Ralph's own height, and he might have been a trifle heavier. This tone, when he spoke to his companions, and his manner, generally, plainly told that he was used to command! He was certainly young. Though his fea tures were invisible, there was that in his bearing, in his movements, and in his speech which betrayed youth. Who could he be ? What did it all mean ? What was to Gome ?

Ah ! he was soon to know ! They had at length reached the water's edge, where two boats were seen—one, a small, dumpy affair ; the other larger, and evidently better.

"Come, help yerself, if you can," said the chief as his two companions took the captive by the arms, and started to lift him into the smaller boat.

" What is it for ? Will you not tell me where I am going ?" " We're going for a sail, young man ; and let us hope 'twill be a pleasant one. Hi ! There you go ! Now find a seat. Here,—into the stern-sheets ! There we are !"

At that instant, as tlie captive youth hart sank clown upon the extreme after thwart of the boat, a broad, vivid sheet of flame leaped from out the blackness of the :>!-;ht, bathing land and sea in a flood of light. Ralph saw one thing, clearly and distinctly, —the chief of the ruffianly trio. Tho man stood, at the moment, in the bow of the boat, facing him. Not a feature of tbr face did our hero lose. It was the face of a man not many years older than himself, —the face, he could have sworn, in all save that of age—of Jonas Crandal !

The light was gone, and tho crash of the thunder followed ; but that face the cap tive still saw, as clearly as when the light ning had revealed it. He remembered Tom Crandal ! They had met once, in the other years, when they both were little more than boys, and he had not forgotten him. Yes, — it was the son of the steward of the Abbey —now the steward of Morna's father ; and — O ! just heavens ! what might he be to Morna herself! O ! what—what was coming ? Why had Tom Crandal done this tiling ?

His frantic, agonising thoughts were in terrupted by the next movement of his captors. Both boats had been pushed off from the shore ; the two helpers had entered the larger one, and taken the oars ; then their chief had turned, and seated himself on the midship thwart of the other —that is the stern on which the captive was seated, and was placing .1 pair of oars in the row-locks, when a second Hash of lightning streamed across the heavens, lighting up the scene even more viv illy than before.

Naturally, in order to ply his oars to the best advantage, the man who was t» row sat with his oack to the bows, facing his unwilling passenger in the stern-sheets. Once more that weather-bronzed face was revealed to its slightest lineament ; and, without stopping to reflect, moved thereto by the impulse of the moment, the captive spoke : " Tom Crandal! For what have you done this thing ?" The light was gone, swallowed up in a blackness more dense than any which had preceded it, and the words of the speaker found echo in a crash and roar of thunder that shook both earth and sea. But the man with the oars had heard them. Ralph saw him start, and heard his quick gasp of surprise. He did not answer, however, but applied himself to his oars, which he handled with marvellous power and skill.

Out into the Channel went the large boat—far out beyond the headland—and then its head was turned to the southwest, directly towards the broad Atlantic ; and the smaller boat was kept close in her wake, the single oarsman of the latter putting forth strength fully equal to that of both his companions.

Anon another sheet of electric flame lighted up the dark waters, and the eyes of the two men—the oarsman and the passenger — captor and captive—met. As soon as the loud thunder had died away, our hero spoke again. " Tom Crandal, will you tell me why you do this thing ?" "So! sol" muttered the pirate, speak ing rather to himself than to the other. He raised his voice as he added : "So you know me. Well, it does not matter. Not very favourable weather for a pleasure excursion, is it f

" Tom ! Tom ! If you have one spark of human feeling in your bosom, will you not tell me what this thing means ? Why have you brought me hither, and in this manner ?"

" Wait, wait, my dear fellow. You shall know all about it very soon. Don't in terrupt me now. No man can row and talk at the same time, and do justice in both directions."

With a deep, painful groan, the unhappy youth sank back and bent his head. A few moments later, came another stream of lightning, and lie looked vp —looked to find the gaze of his companion fixed upon him with an expression of triumph and satisfac tion. There was no mistaking the look. The smile that curled the heavy, animal lips was the smile of a demon. Ralph's heart sank within him—sank utterly and hopelessly. Again he bowed his head, not caring to speak further. In spite of the pain in his arms—a pain that had now gone to every part of his frame—Ralph's thoughts were busy. He called to mind the dark hints he had heard regarding Tom Crandal's life at sea. That he had been engaged in smuggling was known ; but it had been whispered that darker deeds than that had marked his career. ' Sitting there in his bonds, with the rain beating down, and the breaking waves ever and anon adding their volume of wet, he wondered if the young pirate chief had ventured to run his vessel into the Channel, and was now taking him to it, for the purpose of carrying him away to some distant point, where he would be un able to interfere with the doings of Crandal senior.

Several lightning bolts had fallen since the boats had put off, and by the glare of the last the captive saw that the bold head lands had been left almost out of sight. Not only had the oars been plied vigorously, but a strong north-easterly wind, setting down the Channel, had helped them on their way. He did not then think of the tide, but he thought of it later. Of the lapse of "time Ralph had been able to keep no clear account. It had been not far from a quarter-past eight o'clock when ho had been intercepted by the ruffians. More than an hour had passed from that time before they had reached the boats. Yes, an hour and a quarter, and perhaps more than that. Then they had certainly been on the water another hour, and more. He was thinking of this, and had told himself that it must be very near 11 o'clock, when he noticed that the larger boat had stopped, the men in her |liaving ceased rowing and raised their oars; and a few moments later Tom had pulled his boat to her side. A few words were ex changed between the chief and the two

stand ' °V her° eol*ld notnnder former l^V? kneW that in the end the Sid , ht d,b^ leo^°fthe others thathe bt?i d ii kdtfr n the -™le <*>*> And then Tom Crandal arose, and with bhalll look at the lashing on your arms, young man ?" he asked, as he reached the open space in the stern-sheets "G!" cried Ralph, imploringly, " why will you not .all me by my name ? You know it well enough." "Look yon, my dear boy," said the other coolly and seemingly with a wicked smile on his face, "lam not more than two or three years, perhaps, older than yourself • but when you have lived even those years you may have come to know that a man had better not call every name he knows I may know yours and I may not. But, say shall I look at that lashing ?" "Yes! yes! 0! remove that, and I think I can bless you !" The wretch reached over, and felt care fully around the turns of the cord, and ex amined particularly the knot. Two minutes, perhaps, ho spent thus, and then he drew back.

" The lashing is all right, my dear fellow. 1 would be a pity to disturb it." And with that he turned, and started to make his way to the centre of the boat.

Ralph was too utterly astounded - too shocked and too miserable for speech. He knew, further, that words would be thrown away upon the heartless wretch who could so cruelly and wantonly torture a fellow creature. He saw the man stoop, and feel around with his right hand—a flash of lightning at that moment revealed the iiiovement—saw him feeling under the thwart, at the bottom of tho boat, as tiough searching for something ho hul dropped. The watcher had reason to remember it afterwards ! Whether hepicked up anything Ralph could not see. The next thing he saw Crandal -for Tom Crandal he now knew the man to be—paw him pass his two oars into the larger boat, and quickly follow them, and take his scat at t\e stern, and ship the tiller ; then a mast vas. stepped and a sail loosed. One last cry for mercy the suffering prisoner sent forth, beseeching thorn, if they were human, that they would at least cut his bonds. But they paid no attention to his ta.ll - appeared to give him not a thought.

" Let Ml !" shouted Tom to his helpers. " Pull av,uy !" he added, as tho oar-blades fell into tto water. In a moment more the lung boat was shooting away, and very soon the mfortunate youth had seen the last of her. No, not the last. Twice after that the lightning revealed her, farther and farther awaj, her sails drawing ; but tho third flash \ghted up to his view only a boundless waste of turbulent, inky waters inky save where the breaking crests threw out phosphorescent scintillations. When the h?t glare of electric light had shown to the bound captive the desolate solitude of wafers, the last hope seemed gone, and in thi wild agony of tho moment he could think ojly of Heaven. He started to throw himsellforward upon his knees to pray. He attempted to gain his feet -to rise from his feit—but could not. His bonds had bcconii entangled in something in the woodwork at his back. He found afterwards that it vas a small brass cleet, to which the sheet->f the boat's sail was be layed when in ust He pulled smartly ; then leaned forwar], drawing upon the cord as he did so. This he had done thrice, and was changing the direction of his draught upon t\e cord to a sidelong movement, when he felt a giving way—a loosening —and at the same time he could feel the position of ontor two of tho turns around his wrists slijhtly change. He stopped, and thought, vith his heart in his mouth. Could it be posible that a turn or bend of the knot had become caught on a horn of the cleet, and tilt he might draw it out —loose ?

With his heart hushed-with every nerve strung to its utmost tension -he slowly, carefully and steadilyraise\ himself as before Yes, he felt the cord beconing looser. The knot was being broken. One more pull, another, and an end of the »ord fell at his side, drawn completely outfrom the knot. Then he worked his hands a few times to and fro, and finally "") ! Merciful Heaven ! I thank Thee withall my heart !" The words burst from his lip£ as he felt his hands free, and the cruel tfrturing bond fallen at his feet. \

Then, in the depths of his gratitude, he clasped his hands, and sank dVn upon his knees. But he was up again iistantly. A new horror was upon him. H had found the raised floor of the stern-shfets buried deep in water ; and above the bwl of the wind, and the beating of the rain he heard the terrible bubbling of rushig water, seeming to come from a point staewhere amidships.

Ha ! The boat had been scuttld ! He remembered the stooping and the mnipula fcion of Tom Crandal in that vorypiace ! The boat's bottom had been boredbefore hand, and the heartless wretch had imply found the plug and drawn it out ! With a sharp cry of alarm, the hoified youth sprang forward. Away frorr. the raised floor the water in the boatwas more than knee-deep ! Ah ! Heyen help him now. And for that heir he prayed. (To be continued.)

A CHEMIST'S CLEVER TRICK

What might have proved a very tragici occurrence "was adroitly nipped in the but on a recent Sunday by a Parisian chemist An elegantly-dressed young woman, wearing a thick veil over her face, went into a phar maceutical establishment at Clichy, and asked for a phial of vitriol. The chemist, whose suspicions were aroused by the mysterious manner of his fair customer asked her some questions, to which she returned evasive replies. He then gave her, instead of vitriol, a bottle of perfumed water, and directed a man to follow the fair damsel and to watch her movements. The amateur detective did so, and soon saw the woman take up her position at a street corner, phial in hand. After having carefully uncorked the bottle, she waited, and as a young man well known in the neighbourhood passed by she flung its contents with a yell of triumph in his face. The man received the perfumed water in his eyes, but, although it only made him smart for a moment, he roared like a bull of Bashan, and cried out that he was blinded for ever. Meanwhile, the emula tor of Marie Beer, who thought she had in flicted a terrible punishment on her false hearted Adonis, ran away with the speed of an Atalanta, vainly pursued by some of the bystanders who had witnessed the scene. The chemist's man, however, set everybody's mind at ease by describing the pious fraud employed by his master for the prevention of another Parisian drama.

The Indians say, ': If a dog howls in the night a stranger will come to-morrow." The saying does not state why the stranger will come, but it is probably to murder the dog.

FATAL ACCIDENTS TO A JOCKEY.

A ST ANGE STOKY,

The following strange story is published in the "Nelson Evening Mail," under the heading, " Second Sight or What V"

"A very strange story in connection with the late fatal accident to poor young Alan Herd, and one that is certainly "worthy of publication, has been told us by Mr Canton, a well-known and highly respectable farmer living at Hope. By way of preface, it must be ex plained that Mrs Canton's maiden name was Roberts, and that she had a brother named Jem, who was a liorse trainer at Blenheim, and was at the Nelson races two years ago in charge of the horses Hero and Satellite. From here he returned to Blen heim, and a few months later died there in the hospital. Roberts had taken Alan Herd in hand, and was very fond of the lad, who was with him for some years, and always called him 'Jack.' Mrs Canton had also taken a greai liking to young Herd, and invariably spoke of him as ' Jem's boy.' So much by the way of introduction. On Thursday last Mr Canton was in town, and left o&\ the re turn home in the afternoon. He called at the Turf Hotel on Ms way out, where he had a glass of beer, and between that and his own house did not see a soul to speak to, everybody being on the racecourse. Ho reached home shortly before 6 o'clock, knowing nothing of what occurred at the races, in which he took little or no interest. On his arrival at home he found his wife trembling all over, and it was apparent that she had been crying a good deal. He asked her what was the matter, and in reply she statod that she was sure something had happened to 'Jem's boy.' He laughed at her fears, and told her not to worry herself, but she persisted in stilting that she was certain ho had met with un accident. Mr Canton then pro ceeded to question her more closely as to the ground for her fears, when she made the following remarkable statement :—

" I was sitting quietly in the room when suddenly I saw my dead brother .Icm and the boy as real as life. The boy was on horseback and riding very slowly along and not in jockey dress, and Jem was following and leading another horse. All was per fectjy silent, until I distinctly heard Jem call ' out 'Jack, Jack,' and the boy then turned slowly and looked round, and then both disappeared. Both of them were most j*unfully near to me. I was terribly frightened, for I felt sure that something was wrong with the boy, and I got up from my work and went out."

Mr Canton called at our oflice yesterday afternoon and told his story, and as he was naturally enough a little excited over it, we asked him to put his statement in writing after talking over the matter with his wife, and ascertaining from her exactly what it was that she saw, and at what time. The result appears in the foregoing .statement, to which Mrs Canton has added the follow ing : —

" The time that I felt 1113' brother and the boy were with me was as near as possible the time when the accident happened to Herd. I had not even thought aoout him before. 1 was sitting quite quiet in the room, and was .sewing at the time."

We have only to add that neither Mrs Canton nor her husband knew anything whatever of the accident until the following morning, for the hit lei1 rather pooh-poohed his wife's story, and attached ho little im portance to it that lie took no trouble to make inquiries of any of his neighbours. He was, however, considerably startled when early the next morning lie met Mr Cole man, who lives close by, and learned from him what had occurred. That the story as told to us is absolutely correct we have no doubt whatever. Both Mr and Mrs Canton are we.l known as steady, hard-working, respectable settlers, and certainly would be the last people to weave a web of liction.

Something Like $ Bullfight.

" I was one day enjoying a ramble," says Lord Saltoun, in relating his Indian ex perience, " along tlio shores of a beautiful lake, 1 was alone, and having a book with me I .sat down under the .shade of a tree to read for an hour or ho, .My position was one of the hills covered with line smooth turf and studded with pretty large .single trees, and neat' the spot the declivity sloped gently towards the water, but did not reach to it, the ground having given way at some former epoch and formed a small precipice, fifteen or twenty feet in depth from the edge, sheer down to the deep water below. There was a herd of cattle feeding around, of the ordinary Indian breed, the Zebu, or ' Brahminny' cattle, as they are sometimes called, which in that district are of large size ; and I had not been long seated when I noticed that something appeared to disturb the equanimity of the bull belonging to the herd, a very fine fellow, with a sleek white coat, tinged with grey about the neck and joints, grand horns, and magnificent hump. He began to bellow and tear up the ground with his forefeet, and for a while I was a little apprehensive that these tokens of his wrath might be directed towards me ; but having my gun at my side, without which I seldom went far, and seeing that the tree under which I sat was pretty easy to climb, I was reassured, and watched the old fellow's proceedings with interest. Soon the cause of. his disturbance became ap-. parent; a mighty voice answered his challenges, and around the hillside came another bull, as nearly an equal match to the first as could be imagined, and as like him as two peas, except that perhaps his grey markings were a trifle darker. Proudly he advanced, bellowing defiance, vhile the lord of the herd vehemently re ponded, and seemed to become the incar ation of fury, until, when some twenty lids from each other, down went their Tads, and they met with a crash that re sinded over the whole place, and sent each ciabatant back on his haunches. The herd, muiwhile, had gathered together, and st(!d looking on. Both champions rose fi'Oi the first shock, and closing again moi deliberately, brow to brow, a

trenmdous tussle began. I have never seen^o ■well matched a pair of gladiators. Rouii. and round they went, backwards and f-wards, each straining every nerve to overpyer tlie Other, but without success ; only whichever happened to be upperitet on the hillside had a little the best oft, and drove his adversary back so long as ° preserved that advantage. lam sure the s must have been fighting for a quarter Can hour, and the struggle, which began to ill upon both, had brought them close to \e edge of the little precipice mentioneclibove, at which moment a sud den turn peed the stranger bull under most on thrill-side, when the lord of the herd, aidedby the advantage of ground, made a vigors push, the stranger's hind feet slipped rer the edge, and he plumped with a loud sash into the lake below, dis appearing as y magic from the view of his antagonist, wJj very nearly toppled over and shared hisate. The scene was most absurd. Reco«-ing himself, with a roar of surprise, the asiunded victorwheeled about and galloped t.l in air, bellowing as he ran, and followe.by the herd."

THE LITTLE FOLKS.

Whkn is an artist like a cook ?— When he' drawing a little duck.

The following contains an admirable hin for both ministers and teachers :—Rev. Smith Baker, of Lowell, Mass., knows a short cut to the hearts of the host of children in his charge. First learning the birthday of each, he enters all in a record. Then, as the happy anniversary for each. little parishioner arrives, he sends a leaflet or card with a pastor's, blessing and a word of counsel.

An old bed-rid peasant in Fife one day called to his grandson, a little boy, " Jock, bring me a drink o' cauld water." Jock, who remembered that there was no water in the house except a small quantity at the bottom of a pitcher which had become muddy, asked the venerable relation if ho would prefer it with what he called "a ditcher o' meal on the tap o't." "No," answered the old man, " bring it by itself." "Then," said Jock, in a tone of evident chagrin, "I'll hae to gang to the well fort."

A little boy was once walking along a dusty road ; the sun was very warm and oppressive, but, as was his usual way, he stepped along quickly, thinking the faster he walked the sooner he would reach the end of his journey. He soon heard a car riage coming, and when it had come up with him the drivcrreined in his horse and kindly asked the.lad to ride, which he gladly ac cepted. When he was seated in the waggon the gentleman, a good old Quaker, said, "I noticed theo walking along briskly, and so asked thee to ride ; but if I had seen theo walking lazily I would not have done so by any means." Boys, think of this, and you will always be paid for your trouble in some way.

SAVED BY A CAT.

During the time when England was rent and torn by civil strife between the two factions represented by the red and white roses, Sir Henry Wyatt, a brave and noble soldier, wore the red rose, and after a brilliant victory won by his enemies, was captured and imprisoned—so the record tells us —" in a cold and dark tower." Here he was allowed to languish, unsupplied with sufficient food to keep the wheels of life moving on. In vain lie begged his gaoler to increase his allowance, but fearing to disobey those who ruled over him the man refused. Ono day Sir Henry discovered that a visitor had made her way into his dark and nar row cell. She purred and rubbed against him, and soon the knight and the new comer were fast friends. Every day she came for a while through a narrow aperture in the wall, and day by day the attachment grew. Whether in the course of their interviews Sir Henry told his new friend how hungry ho was we do not know. Perhaps it was only puss's desire to show her affection for him ; but one day she came lugging something in her mouth, and soon nlie laid a fine fat pigeon at the knight's feet. Hera was food, and just in time to save his We. The gaoler was not heartless, and though he (hired not buy food for his prisoner, he did not refuse to cook wlu\t the knight supplied. In the courses of a little while puss brought another bird. Then, one came every day. Sir Henry began to recover and grow strong. Finally his enemies learning how miraculously his life had been preserved, granted him a pardon. You can imagine, after this, how grateful the knight was to puss. To show his feel ings towards her, the old chronicle says, " Perhaps you will not find his picture any where but with a cat beside him."

CLOTHES AND CREATURES.

A little girl and boy wore once seated on a flower bank, and talking proudly about their dress. " See " said the boy, "what a beautiful new hat I have got, what a tine blue jackctand trousers, and whata nice pair of .shoes ; it is not everyone who is dressed as finely as 1 am." " Indeed, sir," said the little girl, " 1 think I am dressed finer than you, for I have on my silk pelisse,, and a line feather in my hat ; I know my dress cost a good deal of money." " l\&b so much as mine," said the boy. " I know." " Hold your peace," said a caterpillar, crawling in the hedge, "you have neither of you any reason to be so proud of your clothes, for they are only secondhand, and have all been worn by some creature or other, of which you thinkjbub meanly, be fore they were upon you. Why, that silk ha.s first wrapped up such a worm as I." " Thero miss, what do you say to that?" said the boy. "And the feather," exclaimed a bird, upon a tree, was stolen from, or cast off, by somo of my race." " What do you say to that, miss ?" repeated the boy. " Well, my clothes were neither worn by birds nor worms." " True," said the sheep, grazing close by, " but they were worn on the backs of some of my family before they were yours ; and as for your hat, I know that the beavers have supplied the fur for that article, and my friends the calves and oxen in that field were not killed myely to get their flesh to cat, but also to/get their skins to make your shoes." Seeithe folly of boing proud of your clothes, smce we are indebted to the meanest creatures for them ; and even then we would not use them if God did not give us the wisdom to contrive the best way of making them fit to wear, and the means of procuring them for our comfort.

An Eccentric Baron.

One of the most eccentric of Parisians, the Baron de Joesfc, has recently died, bequeath ing his property, worth more than £100,000, to the Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals. As was to be expected, the baron's relatives intend to contest his will, and the revelations expected to be made during the lawsuit promise to be full of in terest. The baron lived in a simple manner, attended only by a female servant, young and good-looking, like the soubrettes whom one sees on the French stage. He was in the habit of changing his soubrette once or twice a month. Dr Joest might be com pared, owing to his eccentricities, to the mad Marquis of Waterford. On one occasion, aftei1 making his coachman get his carriage ready to drive him to the Bois do Boulogne in a blinding snowstorm he countermanded the order, and towards ten o'clock at night repeated it again, going down to the stables to observe how the unfortunate coachman liked his caprices. The Jehu, exasperated beyond measure, fell upon his master like a maniac, pommelling him without mercy, and, fling ing him into the carriage, drove him off, nolens volens, to the Bois, bringing him back half-dead from the cold at 4 o'clock next morning. Next day the baron, summoning his coachman to his presence, gave him a hundred francs, and commended the strength of his arms. The baron belonged to seventeen different humanitarian socie ties, but showed little proof of benevolence to man or beast during his lifetime.