A Heart's Bitterness.

By BERTHA M. CLAY,

Author ot "For Another's Sin," "A Fair

Mystery.' fee,

CHAPTER XLVI.

"A SLKNDEU PIOURR, KI.YINIi TIIIIOIIIIII TIIK NKIHT " Whenever Helen Hopo introelucod the name of Kenneth Keith in her irecpiont conversations with Violot, Violot was either silent or quickly and adroitly changed tho conversation. But though not one word was said, Helon folt moro aid moro assured that Kenneth had beon tho one groat love of Violot's life—that in spite of hersolf her hoart still clung to him in a silent, liopoloss agony. To hor surpriso Violet boomed to favour a union betwoon-Ednaand Keith—it was only in this connection that she would mention him at nil. Holon could not under stand this ; tho idea of self-renunciation was foreign to hor, and it had nover ontored her mind that one would jdo Jrigllt for simple lovo of Tightness. Ono day sho said boldly to Violet:

" Since it is evident that Lore! Loigh doos not caro for you, why don't you givo him up ontirely, and mako othor friends, and find happiness with some, ie who would caro for you."

Violot looked inexpressibly shocked. " Cannot you sco that w« "V- ',Vl'v '" 'his world Trevor-and wo Bheuld.'of aU _'■ —^"t.rivoto pleaso God, and thon -_„ ______ Tpeace and happiness in tho world to eomeJ iometimes 1 ftink you are a very

'''. trffiTnk SO, dour Lady Leigh. I ro. lyjj, nn _., j only spoke to try you, and know Mu . 9 p|.; n g,| n f action, for you are so silent t out t ,i loa(3 (ioep feelings. I liko to bosuro^, |, avo _it comforts mo when 1 think of YL >■ And thyf 0 ] en turnod tho conversation to Bubjectyhjeh the know would ploaso Violot—ch* tic!< w i,ich sho might dispense, ways sho i^ llt t , llte> ir) tlio advancing summor, to f) ko herself lovod and roniom bored at Lei^ Towors "aftor sho had gone.

But in hor fkrp OSO of rovengo on Leigh, in bringing hi\ to |, or | cvo i ___ s |,o had throatonod.ishe , ag not willing that Violot thculd dio in poo, ant ] honour in her homo, and Leigh slinuld^ a i. oc j ocorou3 mourning, and, rich in Violot, foviuno.come out aftor brief retirement to n^( CQ a „ ow choieo, and still ignore herself. \f B ho could contrive to cover Leigh witli ?ll9 pi c j o ii and con tumely, so that for v t ; rae f ,t least sho should bo fairly dri^u out, of English onciety to tho Continent s h o flattered hor solf that sho might acct_mp an y him, and in somo moment of dep. eas io n , illness, or evon inebriety, might tecure a mnrriago and bo Lady of Leigh. ll s l, c could goad Violet in hor declining health to fly from her liußband's house, then all tho powerful connection of tho Montressors and Ainsliss would lift up a world clamour about Leigh's cruelty, would boliove any tales eho might set in ' circulation, and tho early doath of Violot—which Helen did not for ono in stant doubt—would fix public opinion in execration of Leigh. Craftily, again and again, Helen returned to this themo.

"Why do you not abandon all this life that is wearing you out ?" sha said. " Why not go away by yourself for a year or so, until you recover strength and live down your sorrow ? Such a course would bo a lesson to Lord Leigh ; he would miss you and treat you woll when you would bo willing to return." " I would not do such a thing for the world," Baid Violet. " Even if my husband would be glad to bo rid of me, other friends would care—my aunts—— M

" How much doos Lady Montret^Dr lovo you"! Hid not Mrs Ainslie deliberately sell you, to secure a high position for you, so you could aid hor daughters in social lifo? She is already planning that, 'if dear Violet dies,' sweeto«t Anna or darling Flora shall take her placo as Countoss of Leigh." "Oh, Helen! Helen !"

" Why should I not tell you the truth . You might be free of all these schemes and false friends." "But Lady Burton, Edna?" faltered Violet.

"If you wer,B not quite blinded you would see that Lady Burton is sotting all her love Oil Misa Haviland, and trying to got hor for. Lord Keith. Miss Haviland will take the greatest match offered her. From the way she and lioigh eichango glances, I think ikyou were out of the way that would bo her match. Lord Keith evi dently adores her. At yourdlnnor horo tho other night, when you wero so swoet aa to let me eomo and look on, dear, I saw them talking together in a window for a long time. I understood—ho was plsading hu suit, and she waa putting him olfeasily, to soe if the marquis would propose." Yes, Violet also had noticed that long, ploee conversation, and had robukod hor natural jealousy, and had told herself that it wa3 juat what she most desired, to see these two united in dearest bonds. And what had really been the subject of dis cussion ? In' tho weeks spent under ono roof a warm friendship had grown up be tween Keith and Edna. Deep lovo. of Violet panoplied hia heart against a passion for any otbor woman, but all that a sister mi"ht havo beon ito him ho found in Edna ; and thit evoning Edna had suddenly to.d Keith that it was for Violet's sake that she had sought out his mother, aod come into society ; that tho dearest hopo of her life was to bring joy and light into tho life of the darling littlo host, s, who drooped pathetic smong her guests, nnd seemed weighed down by her point-lace and diamonds. In the sudden confidence of that inter view, Edna told of hor early acquain tance with Leigb, of hor changed name, and how ehV sometime 3 felt aa if sho de ceived Violet, and acted a fake part in not telling her all. "I hate deceit, and I am not acting openly to her. Lord Kenneth, will you not help me to unfold all ? Will you tell your friend, Lady Leigb, tho real story of my early fancy, and all that haa followed, ex cept that in any way Lord Leigh has seemed to follow me sinca then ? Make all fair and open between us." "I cannot," said Keith. ',< Let tny mother do that " . "Some v/ay I thnk you could do it better." „ , . , _ „ "loannot venture to sco Violet alone, burst out Keith. " Sho looks so lonely, so sad, so forlorn, it would overmaster me. Then Edna road his bitter secret, and Violet's. She started. '.' Oh, Lord Keith, your heart . She stopped. , "My heart has a grave in it, wide and deep, and wet with ceaseless grief; in it lies dead and cold the love of my life, the fairest, Winnirigest, Bweetest young creature ; and her namo—was Violet." ' '! And she? I know sho must have loved you.'' Keith bowed. "Love her only the more, help ber moro; in that sho is dowored with double sorrow, Bhe has a grief to match every pound in hor f*"yS!rmot 3h. shall certainly tell her all," said Edna; "and there shall ba deoper confidence between us." But Lady Burton took a severe cold, ana wan for a tew days threatened with dangcr oTeonsequencos'. Edna devoted herself to her, not leaving her room. Sho sont a little note or two to Violet, nut d.d not see h&r That abaenco and silence worked fearful results, Helen Hope was given time to use her last argument. She had kept pressing that notion of " going_ away alono" on the innocent, .noxper.enced Violet, She depicted a charming cottage in Derbyshire, a cottage draped in rosea and honeysuckle, in a peaceful village, beside a grey old church, where^ a saintly man ministered to. a flock that were of the fashion of simplo early Christians. There Helen claimed to have the most comforting of mothers, who would welcome the little lonely counter Helen declared that she herself would go thero and devoto herself to Violet-thnt the price Violet could pay would make the widowed mother oomplotely happy, bhe half crazed Violet by. these ?»gg°»' The little oiuntosß waa in a terribly nervous state, ard Helen had a curious influence over her. Then eama the note stating that Lady Burton was ill, but that in a few days Violot would again be visited by ncr devoted friend, Edna Haviland. " Humph I that note is as true as her name," said Helen. „ , "And why ia not her name true? de manded Violet. ._,_.„_,_, "Itis, in away, taken lately to secure property, you know." . ,i j "No, I don't know. I never heard of

"Do you mean to say that she has been all this time deceiving you, and you do not know that she ia my old pup. E™a. Am broae, from Cornwall and Hoso Lodge '.

" What I what'" cried Violot.

" Poor child I Thon thoy huvo deceived you, Lady Burton, Keith, nnd all ! I sup posed you know.Shaset out tosoeif sho could keep hor empire over Leigh; no doubt he put hor up to it, as you refused to invite hor. They made you do it by this trick. But sho 8068 Keith is a good match, and so she has engrossed him. Every one of them is making a tool of you, and playing with your innocence.

Violot sprang to her feet, her eyoa burned, her wholo framo quivered. " You swear this is truo - that she is Edna Ambrojo—that all know it but mo—that Lady Burton, Erlnn, Kenneth, Leigh, all aio dosoiv ing me?" "Isivoar it on my knees—thoy aro all deceiving you, evory ono of them."

" Thon I will fly from them for evor. I will never roturn. I will go and I ide, and die—awny from deceivers. I will go to morrow morning. Yos,yes, I will go. Oh, this is too cruel I Edna, Keith, Lady Bur ton—all leagued against me - against poor littlo Violet I"

The noxt May morning had not risen whon from that grand Bolgravian mansion might havo been seen a slcndor figuro Hying through the night.

CHAPTER XLVII,

"WHY ASI I *D lIKr.I'I.BS.S »'

Out nf her palatial homo flod tho heroino of tho Ainslie millions. Of all the rich garb that 111 loci her many wardrobes and elosots, sho hnd only the simple grey silk and little bonnet of Milan braid which sho woro, and a ehango of underclothing in tho lil.tlo embroidored velvet bag in her hand. In that bag also, sho had two sets of jewels, .am live su™« Bi whilo sowed in tho bosom of her dross M,o had bank notes of one hundred pounds. No one of (ho sleeping I fc«tb™ know tho mistress had departed. T oi;.ilr a- w.Uh wi _° nnil wi,l> l'iay at piquet, in hor upper-room, had nn notion that her I in ._-... ...„„ 0 lir,:„„ Vi.elnl. «I,n l.nrl

i-'C-ircoly closed hor oyus all night, roso bo foro tho first Btroak of dawn, put on tlio un-

conspicuous groy silk, tho littlo bonnot with groy ribbons, grey silk gloves, and pa"keil a fow necessary articlos in tho groy velvet hag, worked by Anna Ainslio when

tho heiress's wedding outfit; was preparing. Mono, tho young countess hardly know the streets of London. Sho ma lo a fow turns, and as tho May dawn lightened into primrose and pink, sho signalled a stray cab, and bade tho sloepy driver tako her to tho King's Cross station. Terrifiod nnd tearful, tho fugitive wifo passed Iho monument of royal conjiigalMovo and woe, and alono and dazed by hor un usual surroundings, waited for tho o-irly train north. Helen Hope had told hor to tako a hekot to Bod ford, whore she horsolf would join her, and thoy would go to tho village of which sho had spoken, n hamlet, sho slid, called Doo, in Derbyshire, by Dorwentwater. The morning was already hot and glaring whon Violet alighted at Bedford station. Sho looked eagerly around for Helen, but only strange faces mot her bewildered gazo. Sho was faint from wakeful woe and tho oarly ride. ... ... Aftor sitting for an hour in tho steition, searching every train that arrived, and scanning every passer-by, without seeing her friend, Violot became co weak and dizzy that sho feared she would faint, and go ing to tho refreshment oountor, asked to have ton sent to hor. .__■_, _._. Until throo o'clock she waited for the I treacherous Holon ; thon entirely overcome, ehe asked tho old woman who tended the waiting-room to sond any lady that might come to look for her to tho nearest hotel, I and crossing the street, went with faltering steps into tho large, barren publichouse, and asked for a room The sharp, scrutin ising bold look of tho head clerk failed her with dismay She could only shake her weary head when hedemanded, Lugarage -t nnd did not understand the distrust implied in "Payment in advance, please, as he summoned a waiter, and gave over a key to a room. . , , The room was as poor as any assigned to her sorvants. Nurtured to all dolicate things, poor Violot grow fainter than ever at tho closo, stuffy odour, and looked in dis may at tho small pitcher of wator and two minute towels, supposed to represent her toilet privileges. When tho staring, inquisitive chambermaid left her.she washed hor hands, took off her dress, let down her hair and considered with astonishment that ehe had neither dressing-socque nor morn ing gown to put oa. Thon she fell on the hard littlo bod, with pillows smelling of stale feathers, and thinking of her hideous fate of her misorablo married life, of her treacherous friends, of her lost, forgotml love, Kenneth, eho wopt until from utter exhaustion eho fe'l ivleop. _ 11 nigbt long she heard I nrough hor un easy slumbers the thunder of pasting trains. The buying, hungry flies whieli tortured her until twilight returned to haunt her with the blank stare of tho early day through the poorly curtained windows. Do:, d and hoavy from her feverish slum boi-pi sho roused *r Ind herself lying, partly dressed, In that strange inhospitable room Jt was a now day ; twonty-four hours Bhe had been absent from her home : and Helen, who had promised to eomo with her, to take to n refuge, to nurse her as a sister.had not como to her. What had h»pp_icd ? Had Helen decnived hor, or was she ill or dead ? Or had sho herself mistakon the given

directions, takon a wrong railway, and gono to a wrong place? She found hor little gold-mounted tablots, and surely thero sho had written that Ifelon would moot hor at Bedford and go with hor to Doe, in Dor byshiro. Perhopa sho had mado nn orror, and Helen had said _ie would moot hor at Deo. Ought she to go a'ono to .oo ? She felt that she could riot' spend another day In that hideous, hot, staring, close, wretched hotel. She would go on, on, somewhere, whero at least it wap, silont, cool, frosh. She arose, mado tho host toil-, that sho could, and i-aig for tho maid. Ilelon had arrangod that Violet should call herself Mrs Leater. Against this falso name tho honest nature of Violot had re volted, but tho stronger will of Helen had dominated her. Sho asked tho servant to inquire of the clerk, and at tho station, if a lady had been to sock for Mrs Leater. " There's beon no ono, ma'am," said the girl, returning. . " Can you bring me some breakfast in a private room ?'.' , "Private room for oaten ia ten allium extra , , Violet took ton shillings from hor purse, and two shillings for the girl, which promptly m*de tlig freckled sorvant hor Amodorately good meal was served, and the girl asked if sho could do anything more for tho lady. «' I want to co to a small place called Uee in Derbyshire," said Violet, timidly, "and— I don't know how to got thero.'-' "What placo is it near? asked the maid. , , T . , . " I—l don't know," faltered Violet. " Laws bless us !" said the damsel. " I have never been there—it is a country place where I moant to spend the summer with a friend, I expected she would moot mo here. Sho has lived in Dee. And " I have not found her, I fear I misunder stood, and that she has gone on to Dee to meet me, and will be alarmed for me. __ "Goodness, slid the rra. d, eyeing Violet's little ringed hando. " Any ono can son that you ain't used to knocking about for yourself liko U3 poor girls ! I<i think nothing of it.' _______ -j " Tell me just what y/ojf v/ould do,' said Violot. . , . , . . , " Why, I'd go to Dorby straight, sooin as its shiro town to Derby County, and there, of course, they would know where Doo was ; no doubt it s some littlo place oft tho railroad, and yon get to it by a fly. " Oh, thank you I" criod Violet And would you toll mo how to go to Dorby ? The girl laughed. " I declaro, you're no bettor than a new born baby to tako care of yourself. Togot to Derby you look at a time-table, and tako tbo right train." , "I haven't any Bradshaw with me % hesitated Violet. Whon she had travelled hitherto, a Bradshaw's guide had been nmoner bor paraphernalia ; ond p. vornoEP, oi-maid, or valet, had duly consulted it, and bought the proper tickets, and taken her whero she ought to CO. She began to hata herself for her helpless-

n6" If I bad been poor, I might have beon mcte-ende-it. like that girl, she said, to herself " Now I cannot even find my own wav on a short, journey." . But tha cirl had marked the quiver of the lovely lips, the sudden filling of tho brown eyes, the coming and going of red and white on tho sweet young face, and hor heart was moved, and her sympathies ""Don't fret yourself, there's a dear." she said. ■' I'll go look out your train, and buy your ticket, and see you off all right She went away for a little and Violet heard her pay in the hall, that sho "was going to look out for o young lady asditJn t know a mite how to manage for ersolf, but aa pretty aa a picter, and rich-by her rings." ■

This recalled Violot to tho fact that she had on her hands a number of jewels, and at hor neck a pin of rubies and diamonds. She hastily^ropped all these toll-tale orna ments into^her satchel, and covored her small white hands with the grey Bilk gloves. "Thero, miss," said the girl, returning. "Lot mo tako you to the station. Th. e'e a train starts soon for Derby. I'll tell the guard to sco to you. You havo to change at Choeter."

Sho handed Violot ovor to tho pleasant faced guard, roseived anothor douceur, which charmed her, and went singing bnek to her bed-making, whilo the truant little Countess of Leigh, shut alono in a first-class carriage, ant in trembling terror nt the change at Chester.

(To be Continued.)

TWO KEYS: OR, Margaret Houghton's Heroism.

By MRS GEORGIE SHELDON,

Author of "ilrowoie'a Triumph." "Tha For-

.ken Bi tde>," " Audrey's Recompense," &°.

CHAPTER XXXV. A T.ITTt.U STRATAOKM,

"Mamma, lot in drive out to Butt C|iamont this afternoon," Margarot st ilonlyproposed, while thoy woro at hint [ havo nover had a view of llio cityTß»>«Js 1 that point in tho winter, and wo could gotn line ono to day, it is so ploisnnt and tho air so clour."

" Vory well. lam roady for any expedi tion that will interest you," Mrs Houghton responded, glad to areoilo to anything that would pleaso her daughter, if by co doing sho could keep that bright look on her

faco. " Oan you go, too, Arthur ? Are you ot liberty for all day "" Margarot asked, turn persuaaivoly to him. "Certainly I can go. I should bo do lighted." " Thon I nm going to sond a noto to Floy Arnold and invito hor to como with us,"

said Margarot. Floy Ari.old was a young lady from Now York, whoso acquaintance the Houghtone , had mado In tho early part of tho winter. Sho hatl some to Paris for a yoar to acquire tho correct pronunciation of tho languigo, and the had boon a vory kind and sym pathising frieind to Margio during her trouble.

" Thnt will make a party of four, and just a carriage full," Margaret (JQ ntinued, add ing, with pretty imperativeness : " And I lay my command upon you, Sir Arthur, to carry tho invitation to her directly after lunch, and uso your most porsuasivo powers to induce hor to acsonipany us." It was vory artful, and she know it, to make him commit himself thus—to make him carry the noto to the young girl, and thus virtually plodgo himself to hor to net as escort to tho party, of which she bad no intention of making one. "Your commands aro always as a law unto me." Arthur gallantly responded. "Thanks; excuse mo, thon, and 1 wil write it at once," Margaret said, rising hastily from the tablo, to stem the in dignant tide which sho folt was creeping up to hor brow in a hot Hush at his presump tion in saying fond things to her. How sho loijged for the time when she could unmask him, and tell hiip that sho know what a miserable villain hp .>.

"What hour shall I toll Floy, m. hid throo?" ".lust as you liko j suit yoiirsolf, Margie, and tho rest of us will be satisfied," said her mother. Ho she wrote tho noto, and said " threo o'clock." Arthur was soon on his way to Miss Arnold with it, and commissioned also to stop at the stable and order Mra Houghton's baroucho to be at hor door promfrtly at a quarter to threo. A littlo before that time ho preoonted himself again in her parlour, to find, to bis chagrin, Margaret lying upon a sofa, covered wilh an afghan, her head bound about with a wot napkin, and looking very Unshod and feverish, whilo tho room waet full of tho odour of aromatic vinegar.

" What is the mattor?" ho questioned in

alarm. "Nothing sorious, I hope." Mrs Houghton auewjjred, "only Margie, I fear, haa taken a sudden cold by going out this corning. Sho complained of a headache soon aftor you loft, hor faco grow very much flußhod, and she seemed nervous and feverish " "Thon of course yon oanuot go to Buttos Chamont," tho young man said, in a disap pointed tono. " Mamma thinks It will not do for mo to go," she replied, with a slight srallo, but almost dazzling him by tho brilliancy of tho glnnco that she lifted to him. " No ; I think it will bo best for hor to remain quietly at homo. There will be somo other opportunity for a view from Buttea Chamont." " Then I suppose I shall order tho car riugo back te tho stable, whon it cbmes," said Arthur, "and wo will poatpono our trip indefinitely." " That would perhaps be best, If wo had not invited Floy to go with us," Margaret interposed thoughtfully. "I wrote her that wa should call promptly at three, and to ba sure to be ready. She said she would go, did sho not?" " Yea; she seemed much ploaaed by tho prospect," Arthur admitted, reluctantly. "Margie, I cannot boar tho idea of going and leaving you at home slok and alono," said her mother.

" Never mind mo, mamma," Margaret answered cheerfully. " Annette oan do everything necessary for me, and it would be hardly fair or Civil to disappoint Floy." "That is 'true; but Arthur could drive around and explain matters to' her. She would excuse us, I know," returned Mrs Houghton " I would not do that. Really there is no need of giving up the drive on my account." Marearet urged. "It will look as if I was of more account than anyone else, and 1 know Eloy would foel it. She will of course be somewhat disappointed that I cannot go, but Arthur will bo company for' her, you csvii aot as choiperqn, and sometime we will niako up another party and go again." Arthur would gladly have excused him self. Miss Arnold was very nice, but she was not Margaret, and the charm of the ex cursion for hira was all gone now that aho could not go. But it would be very un gallant to rofuse to aooompany the ladies, particularly as he had himßelf been the bearer of the invitation to Miss Arnold, and urged her acceptance of it. Therefore Mrs Hougliton and Mr Aspin wall reluctantly departed in the carriage, but resolved that they would not be gone longer than politeness to their young guest required. The sound of the wheels had not entirely died away beforo Margarei sprang to hor feet and flitted like a spirit upstairs, un tying the bandage from her brow aa sho went. She hastily assumed the Bimple cos tume that sbo had worn the provloue even ing, taking the precaution this time to tie a thick veil over her face. She waa about ready to descend again, when she paused at the hold of tho stairs, as if considering some project that had sud denly presented itself to her mind. At length she turned slowly back and entered-her father's chamber. Opening a drawer in an escritoire, she took from'it a black morocco case. Touching a spring, the lid flew back, re vealing a handsome, silver-mounted revol ver. She examined it closely, and saw that tlie chambers were empty, and, turning her at tention again to the drawer from which she had taken the weapon, she searched until she found a small box containing cart ridges. , . Both cf these articlos she uoneealed be neath her wrap, then quickly left the room and the house. She hurried through the streets toward her destination, for she kuow that hor mother would shorten her drive on her account, and that she must be back hefore the party returned from Buttes Chamont. Reaching the Rue do Blanc, she walked boldly along the street, and on arriving at the alley, turned unhesitatingly into it, as if it was her intention to pass through to the Rue de CastigHone. ...,,. .__. She turned and glanced behind her after a moment, but no one had appeared to notice her ; and, watching hor opportunity when no ono was opposite the opening, she sprang up the steps of the building she wished to enter, passed within, closing and looking the door after her this time. It was broad daylight now ; ehe had been over the ground, and knew the way well, and did not fear to be locked in now j besides, it would keep out intruders.

Sho ran lightly upstairs and tapped gontly on tho door of the room where her lover was confined. " Louis, 1 have come," she said. "Margie!" came the quick, eager ro sponso, and the next moment she was iv his presence, "My darling I" ho cried, " have you dared to venture here in the daytime ." Ah, if he only know why she could never venture to eomo there in the night again I But she would not tell him that yet. She went up to him and put both her hands out to him. "It was muoh ploasanter to come by daylight," she said, smiling. • Ho took thoso two small hands and kissed them tenderly. "But I fear it is not safe, dear, if we hope to aocomplish our purpose ; he is liable to como at any hour, and ho has not beon hero yet to-day." A silvery laugh of triumph broke from her lips. " Ho will not. como for a couple of hours at least," she said. Then she told him how she had managed to send him away co that sho could eomo safely that afternoon. " I went out thia morning and bonght what you wanted," sho wont on. "Horo is tho saw and this is tho file. Oh, Lo»is, I hopo you will mako speedy work, for I mn wild to havo yon free onco moro." " You must not bo too impationt, Mni-gio,'' ho snid fondly. •' I will complain of nothing now, if 1 oan only rostore that monoy to the company, You aro a troasuro, dear, (o got mo thoso fools so promptly, and you may be euro 1 shall not dolay in putting thorn to efficient sorvico." " But thoso arc not all, Louis, sco !" and sho placed in his hands her father's re volver and cartridge box, "Oh, Margie I how dil you happon to bo so thoughtful '! Thoy nro lifo and freo dom for mo !" ho exclaimed, ns ho critically

oxamined tho rovolvor. " Margie, I h

«C I nothing now !" " 'LoFTtVi- p J'onn that yon »'«l -"J »<i»J use tho weapon. r j'o~smvc--;. Jirocions tin begin work at onco. How long will i. IaKO you 1" "I cannot say j thoso iron bars nro vory strong, and I shall havo to tako out nt least two beforo I shall havo an nportnro largo enough to got through. DM you bring mo tho wax?"

"Ah! yes; I nearly forgot that," and sho proilucod it. "Thanks: that will do nicely. Now I think I shall take ost thoeo two bars by the safe. Aspinwall will be less likely to not ico them than any of tho others. But I shall havo to movo it—tho siifo n littlu in order to get at them, and so I boliovo 1 will wait until ovening, for if ho should como in and find anything out of placo his suspicions would bo arousod at onco."

" That is truo, porhaps it would bo well to wait. But lam so impatient."

"I am not going to lot yon stay mush longer, my darling," Louis said. "I am in dread lest you should bo found horo. Sit down, however, for fifteen minutes, and tell me something about theso long wooke, sinco I havo boon shut up away from you. Thon I will send you away and you must wait pationtly'until I como to you." " Do you moan that I must not come again ?" Margarot asked, quickly, and with clouded fuco.

" Yos ; I do not think this is a safe locality for you to bo in ; besidos, your froqu. it coming might attract attention and arouso suspicion that something was wrong horo." " Woll, I will do as you sny, an. try to bo patient," Margarot said, gravely, then addod eagerly : " But, Louis, how will you bo ablo to get out of tho building, oven if you succeed in gptting out of this wrptchod cage ?' " How stupid of me not to havo thought of that," ho ropljotl, laughing. "I wish you could leave your keys, but that would net dq, fqr the|) you cquld not lock tho doors tutor yqu. I think you will havo ti como onco moro, Margie, altor all. I am sorry, but I soo no othor way.'1 " I shall not mind "

'< Well, then, wait a fow days-say throo i thon I trust 1 shall bo ablo to nicot you on tho outside of thin plane. You nan then lot mo havo your keys, and I will tuko cure cf tho locks whilo I am looking for my treasure " " But, Louis, I do not bolievo you will find tho money horo ; whoro could ho hide it in this empty building?" Margaret asked. . ,

"Thoro aro plenty of placo?," he replied, " botweon tho iloors, in tho cellar, or ovon in a door-casing." " Whit makos yon thiuk that ho has con cealed it here."

"I notice that nlrnost always after ho leaves mo, Aspinwnll goos prowling about, whilo his movoinents aro very stealthy and pat-liko i and I am sura "tiit.ro is nothing to detain him horo unless it ia to look after his ill-gotten gains " " Woll, I hopo you will provo your thoory correct." ...

Sho remainol a little lot>gor with him, giving hiai somo account of horeelf and how she had followed tho cluo of tho lost dii. niond. Then, at his urgent ontteily, she re: luotantly departod, and soon afterwards reachod her own homo. After returning her wrapper, sho took up tho paper, nnd thore; to hor surprise, read an account of tho ar rest of Louia Murray, and tho suspicious circumstances which seemed to connect him with Louis Dunbar's disappearance, and tho robbory of hia eafo. " But for what / havo dano, circumstan tial ovidonco might convict an iiluoaont man," sho murmured to horeelf, ns, aftor reading tho account, sho throw tho paper asidoandfellto musing upon tho joys in store for hor,

CHAPTER XXXVI,

ABTIIUR I.S SOMBWHAT SHBrMSEn,

VViikn the party returnod from Buttes Chamont thoy .'.md thoir fair invalid much improved. Sho was sitting in her favourito nook by tho firo, her pretty elippoMd feet resting upon the low fonder, and actuary engaged upon the embroidery of her long ne^'octod lambrequins, while she looked as bpwitc . ingly lovely in hor white netjlme, with her crimson shawl about her shoitldors, as it Is possiblo for anyoneto be. "You aro better, Margie?" exolalmed Mrs Houghton, In a relieved tono, as she entered tho room.

"Much better, mamma," ahe replied, with a bright smile. " But lam afraid you are foyorish still your choefcs aye very red anu youv eyes unnaturally blight," continued the fond mother, anxiously, whilo Arthur, who had come'in purposely to learn how she was, thought, if such was the case, a fevorish stato was a vory beautifying ono to hor. " I thinli not,". Margaret returned ; thon afkod : •' Did you havo a pleasant drive?"

" Yos, and the view from Biittes Chamont is very fine. Wo must surely go again somo day when 'you aro able; and Floy Arnold ie a lovely girl. lam more charmed with her every timo I boo hor. Don't you admire her, Arthur?" inquired Mrs Houghton. " Yes," he replied, indifferently, vyhile (lis eyes plainly betrayed that, to him, no one waa so lovely as Margaret Houghton.

" Tako ofif your coat and stop to dinner, Arthur," bis hostess said to him, os sho removed hor own cloak and hat.

He stared and flushed at thp invitation. 'tThanks, 'hut Ijl cannot, he eaid. "I havo au important engagement which mwy result in niy. being obliged to leave town for a few dayß, and I must run away this minuto."

Margaret's heart throbbed sj audibly that she thought tho pulsations could bo heard by all in the room. Ah, sho bad not been a minute too soon in carrying Louis relief.

" Going out [of town, aro you, Arthur ?' she asked.

Ho waa almost dazzled by the light in her oyes, while an uncomfortable thrill ran through him. " 4 may not G° to-night; but, Margie, X qm afraid you c,re very feverish. 1 never saw your eyes so bright before." She laughed out lightly to hide hor agitation. "Well, I confoss I havo beon vory nervoua this afternoon ; but my headache ia all gono, and I shall be all right after a night's rest." " I hope §o, truly," he eaid boartily ; then talking loa,vo of them both ho went away. Hp repaired directly'e his lodgings, and informed his landlady that he might bo out of town for a few days, although sho need not be surprised if he returned by night. A littlo later ho went forth agaiu, carry ing a noatly mado-up package in hi 3 hands, Ho proooodod ta tho Hue Oaatiglione, where, entering a provision monger's shop, he purehaaed a baskot, which he had filled with bread, meat, and various other articles of food, then kopt on down the Btreet and finally turned into the alloy which lod to the Ruodo Blanc. About midway of this, he quietly slipped into a deep doorway, whore he opened his

package and quickly donned a long groat cont, a wig and beard as white as enow, nnd a tall old-faphioned silk hat, putting tho soft travelling cap that he wore into one of his capacious pockets ; then he proceeded toward the building where Louis Dunbar was imprisoned, This had been his habit-to enter that alloy from ono street and go out at tho other end ; thus, anyone having seen him enter from the Rue Castiglone in one dress and happsnimr to meet him elsewhere on leaving tho alley at the other end would not re cognise him as the B.amo person.

After Maßgaret'sdeparture that afternoon, Louis sat down and foil Into a brown study. i He must hare sat thore nearly an hour whon ho aroused himself. "I beliovo 1 will lisfc it,"he said ; "I am getting desperate. Ho is sure to go off with thnt gold before very long ; then I shall not know whore to look for it " He concealed the caw and file, then ex aminod tho revolver with great care, and finally loaeled every ono of its chambers. It was after dark when ho heard a slight noiso below and know that Arthur Aspin wall was about to pay him a visit, to ronow his slock of provisions. It was somewhat lutor than l»o was in the habit of coming, but that was all tho bottor for tho plan that ho had in viow. Ho hastily laid his rovolvor upon the tablo and covered it with n newspaper ; tho noxt moment a koy was inserted in tho door of his room, and thou tho whilo head and board of his gaoler came into viow. " Ah I good ovoning ; I trust 1 liud you comfortable," ho said, coming forward and bowing with mock politeness, whilo ho set his basket upon tho floor with n sigh of re lief, for it was heavy. Louis made no reply, although ho oyed tho basket that Arthur had brought, with somo surprise. "That contains your provisions," tho

_,_ I vnmifMiuu' said, re;»f ''■"■', •*-. ,' vT'y f 0 r| 'brought yotr,; lw«r 1' u> »<">&* C< °n _,„„,/not UV-,; t l, c Plouaul' eof MolnU J'f for a fow day. ~., .«. „~"-?,'. n. °<i'of tnwji.'i a limo, and you'll havo ti mako the contents of tlio basket do you until I fotuni."

Louis's hoart gavo a startled bound at this

intolligonco," "Itis as I feared," ho thought "Ho is about (o decamp with his booty." " How long do you intend to be away '! ho asked. " I cannot toll -it will depend npn cir cumstances." " How much longer do you intend to koe-p nio hero ?" " Until you will swoar to mo that you will leave tho country." " Where nould I go that I should not be recognised and arrested for tho crimo that yon have committor) V

" You can go to Austral!*, or some other rcmoto country. 1 will furnish you with an effectual disguise, and as tho excitement regarding tho affair has somewhat Bub. dod, you would have no difficulty in escaping, and in somo fur off land, wi th'your wonder fiil energy and pereevorance," this with a sneer, " you could easily earvo out a fortune for voursolf." " Suppose I refuse to do this? lou can not koop mo hero alwny. Your continued coming to this uninhabited building will eventually excite suspicion,"

" I am aware of that," Arthur retorted, " but thoro are othor ways of taking care of you. I don't moan that I havo any designs upon your lifo," ho oddod, as ho caught the sharp look that Louis bestowed upon him. '• I havo no dosiio to stain my hands with your blood, though it is not bconuso I bour you any lovo, as you woll know. But thoro aro plenty of places in .and about Paris where you could bo so woll effectually cared for thnt no ono would ever bo troubled on your account." " You mean—" " I mean ~ private mad house," inter rupted Arthur. "It is not a novel idea, I know, but it is an t-ffeelual ono foi troublo somo onomics. nevertheless."

" You would not daro," retorted Louis, growing palo, "Oh, butl .*. iiMdare!" Arthur replied, promptly. " 1 havo too much ut stake not to iliro a groat deal. You havo beon my ovil genius ovor since 1 first know you."

"Say, rather, that you havo boen mino, for you triod tv ruin mo ovon when I wus a boy."

" I haled you," ciod Arthur, oxoitodly : " nnd my hatred did not abate whon you cro_od my path again horo in Paris. Mar garet Houghton would havo been my wifo long boforo thia but for you."

" Margarot Houghton nevor would havo " lla, hoi! how confident, wo are I" re sponded Arthur, riprixjvply : "bnt lot mo assure y-iu that you uro liablo to bo mis taken. 111 wagor a now hat against a pair of gloves, tint eho will bo Mrs Arthur Aspinwall iv lens than six months.'' Lculs Dunbar's hands opened and closod c< nvu'fi> _/. ---" Thon that ie your 'stake,' as you term it," ho quietly said, restraining his anger with a groat of. rt,

" Well, I imy as woll spoak plainly," re turned Arthur. " I lovo tho girl, and lam liound to win her ii it can bo done, and her money, too. So you con make up your mil d to relinquish all claim npon her at onco and forevor. If yon will ogroo to this, and swoar to leave tho country in tho way which I will provide, you can loavo this place any tin\o you choose j if not, you will go into sotiio other placo forthwith, whore you will never trouble mo again..?

"Aro y.;.it ■ uo't fearful that I should fool justifiod in breaking Mich an oath, oven if I could ho persuaded to tako it ?"

" No ; I believo that if you once gave me jo ir wor ■■ af honeur jou W-iuld nover break it."

" You are rlcht s I should novor break my word ; but I shall nevor give it," Louia said, lirmiy.

"Then you know tho alternative,".hie companion retorted, growing vory whito. "I shall denounce you to the authorities tho moment I am free.""

"You will never be frjo to da it. But." he nddyd, after ri moment of thought, "if Margaret Houghton were my wifo to-day you _>«ld not harm mo ; you might go freo and weloomo-j I should bo glad to wubli my hands of you." '•• " How can that be, when I shdui(i"n\?"e you instantly arrested for the robbery'of my offico and for detaining mo jn this vile p^ace ?" "Who would believe) you?" snoered Arthur. " You would bo tho one to be arrested ; you disappeared and tho money vonished at the same timo. Not a shadow of suspicion has rested uionme. I have lived my usual lifo going and ooming aeoordlng to my custom, and no ono haa the slightest knowledge of the events of that night, while you could procure no evidence to" prove your assertions, and you can imagine how they would ba received V.

Yesterday, at that time, this reasoning would have appeared incontestable to Louis: but now ho exulted that, through the zeal and tireless exertions ot hia loved one, the game waa all ih his own hntida. Bfowover, he must adopt gome bold mea sure immediately, for Arthur had evidently arranged his own course of proceeding and was npon tho point of carrying it out.

"Once more I givo you the opportunity to accept my proposition," Arthqr said. " I reject it utterly," returned Louis. Tho young man before him utterod an oath. I(o had planned to loave Franoo that night, aa Louia had surmised, to carry hfs spoils to a place of greater safety, and whoro ho could avail himsblf of them to bottor advantage

" You are as obstinate as a mule 1" ho cried crosßly; " but tho consequonces be upon your own hoad. Your fate la soalod, and you may oxpoct the worst upon my ro!urn. Herp, ij will pass these provisons in to you, and then I'll leave yon again to your own mediations." He stoopad and began ta unpack the bas ket he had brought.

He took out several packages nnd thrust them impationtly between the iron bars, and Louis, taking 'hem one by ono, carried thorn to hi* table, and appeared to exor oiee considerable care in arranging there there.

All but tho last onp had bean thtis dis posed c\f. Arthur was still in a steoping posture, waiting for his prisoner to eomo and take thjs ; he was busily thiuklng, and did not look up uctil Louis came closo up to that iron grating ; then ho raised-his head, and found himself looking directly into the barrel of a revolver I (To Be Continue..)

A Wise Deacon.—"Qeaoon Wilder, I want you to tell me how you kopt youi-self and family so well the past season, when all the rest of us have been sick so much, and havo had the doc tors running to us so often." " Brother Tajlor, tho answer is very easy. I used Hop Bitters in time, and kept my family well, and savedlarge dootor's bills. Four shillings' worth of it. kept us all wen and able to work all the time, and I will warrant it has cost you and moaf of the neighbours £10 to £100 apiece to keep sick the same timo. I fancy you'll take my modloln* -^rttflft/ep. Ha_

A MAMMOTH AIR SHIP.

A New Scheme for Aerial Navigation,

Dr. A. tie BoussßT.of Chicago.is convinced of tho practicability of a sohomo to navigate the air. Ho is perfecting his invention and a company hat already beon formed to push the enterprise. He claims that by his plan the dillieulties which have attended the handling of gas balloons will be entirely re moved. With ascensional forae greatly in creased by his as yot untried invention, he believes that his air ship will be capable of sustaining not only its complement of machinery, but in addition a large number of passengers and considerable freight. The inventor departs from tka old method of obtaining ascensional force by moans of hydrogen, and proposes to get the desired result by what he torms the vacuum theory, not heretofore trie . In regard to this point, ho argiios that balloons filled with hydrogen rise in the air because hydrogen is about fifteen ti.nes lighter than the atmosphere, the gas being but one ftftcenth of the samo volume of air. The ascensional force ia suflioiont to lift a silk balloon with its car, ballast and passengers, for the foreo of suoh a balloon ton yards in diamoter wauld bo tho difference between SH poutids,tha weight of tho gas./ind 1,376 pounds, tho weight of tho air displaced by it. Tho inventor proposes to increase the ascensional force by doing away with tho hydrogen audits weight. Briefly, tho vacuum air ship consists of a stool cylinder 1118 feet in diamotor an cending in cones, having a total length of 654 feot. Its Indy will bo mado of steol plates one-forty fourth of an inch thick, which, with interior supports and braces, will weigh 200,(180 pounds. The platos havo boen tosted and proved capablo o. c sustaining prossuro doublo that of the atmosphero. Tho volume of air contained in the proposed cylinder would weigh 719,707 p unds, giving an ascensional force, if tho vacuum woro completo, of 4511 026 pounds. If only half tho air bo exhausted thoro will still bo a vory groat aseonsional ores-., obtained. Tiie_oikr l -'' -y- fc'^'wW'ejHhjf ,«-.-., capablo of exhausting ,'{o,ooo cubic foot per minute, which it is c.,.-. _,_., „, propel tlie ship at the ralo of soventy mile* per hour. Power for diiving the screws will bo obtainod from an olectri c motor

which receives ourronts from auto-accumu lators sufficient in number to givo 100-horae powor. As tho forco calculated to propel the BhipMs but twanty-five.tho remaining sevonty-fivo will be held in reserve. It is estimated that tho exhausting air screws a 1 ovo inonlioned will givo at least 210,000 cubic foot of air blowing against tho atmosphere, which creates tho propulsion desired. It Is proposed to travel at nn altitude of four or fivo milos abovo all atmosphoric disturtianc- .

SUNSET ON MONT BLANC.

A. r.Anos audionco'"aFaomb.' Hall Whitochapol, ono t»'t!r.'°t loynbee when Lnslio Stophon dclix&r_•'")? recently, "Among tho Alpine Glncietj ™ ''^nro o< s-iid that a hundred y-£ «r S.oody eoemod to look at tho Alp. "T^ themselves until Rosseau mado them fashionable, and Byron and other English pools followca suit In 1856 Professor forbps and Mr Rue'kin wroto certain hooka about thorn which so fitod the imagination of somo young men that thoy deter mined to got, to tho top of th' moun tains. In 1857 they formed the Alpine Club and at the ond of ten years thoy had got to the top of nearly every mountain in tho chain. In 1801 an attempt was made to break down tho'monopoly instituted by the guides of Chomounis, and he (the loc turor) undertook to, aspond with guides that ho had brought with hun from a distance. His party aomMad of live Englishmen and throe guides, and thoy dotorminod to at tempt the ascent by way of one of the largest glaciers Instead of by tho usual route. An accident to ono of the party necessitated their roturn to tho village. Another attempt waa made as soon as pnspdblo, and this proved auoooastul. He had ascended Mrmt Blanc four times alto gether, and on tbe last occasion witnessed (ho sunset from tho top of tho mountain. Tho impression created on htm by this spoc ; tacle was a lasting ono. The Rut Wgn oi the sotting of the sun was that tne moun tains began to light up with that extraordi nary Alpine glow, which was like noth_ ing else in tho world, and which seomod to bo a sort of mysterious solid faro gloaming along tho whole rango of gla ciers; and botweon thorn and bimseii, as tho ovening mist roso, it seeded as ,f thoro were a j;reat acq «. eoiflo transparent, ethereal, bluish Uuid. Thon suddenly ho bo eamo aware of a great dark triangle that was out out of tho twilight. At first he hardly know how to account for this, but ho soon saw that It was tho great shadow of Mont Blanc itself that wal gradually creeping down tho valloy, and Reelect as though it would go tho yUolo way to the distant ltoriiioiv _. aonlly this shadow, by somo ouriou* effect, appeared to oiimb up Into the sky. Then all tho mountains disappeared, and tho dark shadow sprang up and began to enve lope the moon, rising pale and ghastly opposite the sun. Tho final spectacle was witnessed from a lower attitude. Tho immediate rango of snowy elite was turned livid and ghastly pnlo to tho side kgomrt tho sun and on the othor Gioo was stiU glowing and rudely against tbo dark night that was coming np, and far away feeyoftd tho fako of'Geno\:a thoio WHS a great orange band, of 'light brooding over 1 raneo.

Protestantism Shocked.

Tun restoration of the north porch ot Westminster Abboy (says our London correspondent) is now approaching com pletion, and, judging from what may oven now be aeon of tho work, it promises to be in every way worlby of the ancient glory of I that famous building. Qne feature of tho sculpture is the introduction of tho figures of tho V_ tfl'* and Child on a pedestal in the centre of the doorway. Mr A. H Guinnesß, tho Soorotary to the Protestant Alliance, asks why " this image " has boen " so con spicuoiißly placed in tho very face of all the worshippers who attend the Abbey ?. Ho is not satisfied whon he told that tho ereotion cf tho figure ot the Virgin is morel,: a restoration of one that was ft, re in termor times, but he fanoies that it may have b&S_ «et up in recognition of the protecting Careoof,. f, tbo Virgin over her devotees, or because the __.. °1 d Chapter desiretoconciliato Roman Catholic-p.'.,?"11"' It does not appeal' to occur to Mr Guinness that there is such a thing as religious art and that it is possible to produce a presentment of the mother of tho Saviour which would bo froo, as this is, from any trace of supersi. on. Tho Protestant Alliance and kindred bodies aro also much exercised by tho exceptional privilege which they say was granted on October 13 to certain Roman Catholic pil grims to recite tho devotional service of the ',' Rosary of the Virgin '•'• and tho " Invoca tion of Saints" at the shrine of Edward ths Confessor. Nino reasons are given by the Protestant Societies, in a lottor to tho presont Dean, against tho Popish innova tions which ho is supposed to have sanc tioned, and they ask him to revort to tha practice of his predecessor, who closed the Chapol which contains the famoua shrino on Edward tho Confessor's Day, Mr Guinness and his friends frame a formidable indiotment against Dean Bradley, who as little sympathises with saoordotalism as evor poor Dean Stanley did. Tho present Dean, in a very dignified letter, assures them that they have boen misinformed, and that no sanction or coromonial such os they have imagined took plane on the day in question. He adds—" I am quite aware that among the numorouß visitors to the tombs of tho Ringa some of our Roman Catholic oountrymen havo knelt for devotional purposes before tha shrine of the Confessor, But they had done this aa individuals without any approach to a public service of any kind, and without unduly interfering with tho throng of ordinary visitors. It is not our practice to discourage any visitor to tho Abboy from offering private prayer within ita walls or to question those who assume the attitude of devotion as to the nature and object of their pevaonnl petitions." This istheDeao'aanswer to tho complaint, and wita it he closes the correspondence; but the Protestant Alliance is not satisfied, and is still hanated with the apparition of tho Scorlot Woman. Mr Beecher has come and gone, but not with out creating somo theological stir in the Nonconformist world. His parting message consisted of a protest against the Qalvinlatie idea of tho Almighty as a God of retribu tion. Ho made other remarks in the same vein which might have been expe6ted to make Jonathan Edwarda turn over in his grave. All this excited the indignation of Mr Spurgoon, who, although he now keeps the doctrine of election somewhat in the background, is still closely identified with what Mr Beecher and Dr. Parker regard as the narrowest school of Christians. Mr Spurgeon dubbed Mr Beeoher "a blas phemer." One naturally asks " Who made Mr Spurgeon hiß brother's Judge ?" More over, many of hie admirers think that the application of such an epithet to Mr Beecher in a prayer in itself smacks of irreverence.

Monarchs and Marriages.

I Tun sovereign states of Europe aro com monly supposed to be so few that they might be told npon tho fingers. As a matter of fact there are exactly thirty-nine crowned heads in Europe. Excluding the groat powers, the Porte, anti the Papacy, which claims to still possess the temporal power dejitrc, these crowned heads are represented by twolvo small kingdoms, olevon princi palities, six Grand Duchies, and four Duchies. In the " Almanaeh do Gotha " the King of Donmark it described as being likewise " King of Uie Vandals and Goths ;" and tho Empiror of Austria, among some fifty othor titles, is still set down as King of Jerusalem, and Duke of Lorraine. The same authority throws a curious light upon the matrimonial relationships of Royalties and their connections. The English Royal Marriage Act is a mild enact ment beside the stringent regulations which govern the marriagos of Continental, and particularly German, Royalty. The con sequence is that the numbor of morganatic unions has beoome enormous. Thore are only threo instances of such marriages in the present English Royal family. The Duko of Cambridge has beon fur miiif yoars tho husband of a vory estimable lady, who happened not to bo hochtjeboren. The children of this union bsar tho naiw of Fitz-Gonrgo, and they possess all tho strongly - marked characteristics of the House of Brunswick. In the Bocond easo, tho Duke's sister, the Princess Mary of Cambridge, is married to tho duke of Took, himself the child of a morganatic marriage —his father. Duke Alexander of Wurtem burg, having espoused Claudine, Countess of Hohonstein. The Huttsr of interest which passed through tho feminine breast whon tho Princess Frodorica of Hanover, rogardloss of the opposition of hor brother, the Duke of Cumberland, married Baron Alphonse yon Pamel Ram mingen, is still remembored. Since thon, the Princess Pauline of Wurtemburg has . married Dr. Willim, a young^Brct_ aw fPnyttcian.^hf _3or?il_fon upon w^ioh' the j'ri3 / royal assent to the match was given being dit _Uu__-.tl.__. !,..).. ~_'? , __,_.__ i.t,__«_,tl Mm '

being the name ol tiet luiuut a Toin_ iah estate. Tho sister of Prince Christian, tho Princes.s Cajoline of Sohloawig-Holstein. Sondorburg-Augustenburg, haa alao rn.ar lied into the ranks of modi&ina, having espoused Dr. Esmarch, a professor qf modicine at Kfiel. The marriage of the Heredity Pi pee of Monaco with the sistor af the Duko of Hamilton was, it will be remembered, annulled during 18 The prosperity of the State of Monaco is likely to bo annullod also, it would seom, in view of the long, oontinueel agi_,t(oii tor tho closing of tho Monte Carlo hell, Portugal furn'iijhoß i;s with ono of the pv 'b ren^arkab.lo modern instances of a

I panntic marriage, King Ferdinand, the Im ' ' i *'1C Pre3Bnt poetical monarch, who J . "ptstinguiehed himself by tho translation j, _ime of Shakspere's plays, having J o lfoueed Mademoiselle Elise I^e.ns!or, \\_\nom life found upon the opei;atic stage, arid created Countess Ed .■ An unole of Prince Christian made ono of the earliest of tho noiy fashionable American marriages. Prince Frederick Em lie Augustus, of Sohleswig-Holsteln, took to himself en seco»des noce.s in 1564 Mario Eet. or Lee, daughter of David Leo, rentier of New York, Tho bridegroom's dignity was gently lowered by his creation as Prince de Noiir in Austria. The phildren of the Prinoo and Princess, de Noeir hear tho title of Count. Frederick, the prince's aon by his first marriage, went out to Venezuela, where ha married tha daughter of a marchanil— which in thin easo means bouligitier— and cheer fully said good-bye to tho princely title, Tho Blanc family of Monte Carlo haa, singularly onough, becamo ec.,nn_;tod hy marriau.o wih two ftoyal families—tho Bonapartea i\nd tltie Neapolitan Bourbons. The yi. er of Princess Ronald Bona parte, »«(. Blanc, la married to the Prince Philippe do Bourbon. The spangled lights of the circus rider have been replaced by the princoly inantlo in the case oj Mdllo. Loiesot, who waa fortunate enough to cap tivate tho heyt oj P-ii.ica Honvy XX. of Rousi-ScUlei. _ ivstriU Actresses galore Ijive married into tho purple, and even governosaea have had their opportunities. Duko George IL, of Saxe-Moiningon nnd Hildbourghausen, who rejoices lv somo seora of princely and ducal titles, is morganatieally married to a _ rauletn Helen Fran:;, who has boon created Bareness Yon Holdbourg, and is, his third wite. The wifo of King Milan, of Servia, was the daughter of a Russian Colonel named Kechko and a " Princess " Stourdzi. We know what Russian Princes and Princesses are liko.

Tho number of absolute mesalliances chroniclod by the " Ali^anach de Gotha " is fow. In the wain, the large number of morganatic marriages which are eontraoted hy tno male membera of German and other continental royal and semi-royal houses, are marriages to ladios of good blood and cJd family, who, nlthough well born *noiigh for ordinary purposes, £^ro debarred by rigid monarchical ideas from enjoying the full royal dignity. In these times, domestic ties are so easily lbosoned, it is oUserii^g to find tha,t ovei^ stern laws against royal mixed marriages are insufficient to prevent nipn from giving their hands where thoy hayo already gjven theiif feeayta.

ROPE BEDS.

The Accommodations Afforded S'ramps

in New York.

The nights aro growing colder and benches in the parks aro in less douand. A tramp if he is tough and doesn't mind ccld feet, can find a lodging plaoe without trying oiore than one square, and if he is particu lar about it, he oan havo a whole bench to himself. Business at the bumming hotels of the Bowery is picking up in proportion i to the falling off of park patronage. The , gentleman of inelegant leisure who can ac quire 5 cents goes to a dive whero beer dregs are kept on draught, pays his nickel foi? a drink, and has the privilege of sitting on a bench for the rest of the night. If thd placo is not crowded he can lie down, but he has to get bis legs, out of the way and Bleep sitting up if more guests arrive, ns hi* nickel entitles him only to one seat. For tramp.s oui of luck there is a less expensive lodging place on tho Bast Side. The proprietor formerly had benches in the back room, but his patrons were the more .disorderly class of wanderers, and they broke- -HP bo many benches during their boisterous'T^evaeqienta that the profits were all absorbed _¥>ami to the furniture. Therefore l\o had disoartree. -isjebes' and chairs, and stretches three stout ropb'a . _C°? 9 tho room—two at the height of four feet"' • from tho floor and ono at about a foot and a half. He draws staler beer than the henchhousee keep and charges only 3 cents a. glass. The purohaaer cf a glass of beer acquires tho privilege of leaning against a rope all night, and sleeping thero if he can. Early customers get the low rope and can sit on the floor with their backs against the cable. By throwing tho arms over the rope and letting it support tho body under tho armpits, an attitudo of sybaritish comfort ia attained. An old customer said: "It's a littlo tough at first, bosß ; but you try it, foi' a few weeks, and it's reg'lar swell anoozin'-. I've got callouses on my back and undur my arms, and that we ropo's fino as live feathora now. Yer oughtor try it." Late comers havo to put up with loss luxurious accommodations on tho high line, standing up and hanging over it in such a posture oa the individual fanoy or experi ence suggests. Late at night this unique lodging house presents a picturesque ap pearance. Some of tho guests have thoir backs against tho ropes and their anna over it—an attitude of somewhat careless dignity and ease ; but thoso who are notoriously ad dicted to snoring are constrained by pressure of public opinion to reverse the position and hang over the high line with their breasts against it and faces downward. The proprietor usu ally cautions now guests that gentle men who snore are not permitted to sloop on their hacks. Toward morn ing, if the house is full, tho rope gets aaggy in the middle and the guests are in clined to slide down from the ends toward the middlo, which tends to crowd tho line worse than three in a bed, ond promote discord, ill temper and kicks, Guests are supposed to depart at G a.m., and promptly at 6.10 o'olook the hose is turned on tha floor, which never fails to arouse the slug gards. There is a tradition among the patrons that a humorous tramp onco soaped the floor under the high ropes and made it impossible for a guest to maintain any other than a strictly erect posture. As soon as anybody began to doze bis feet slid away from him and he came down with painful emphasis. The weak point in the tradition is attributing to one of the fraternity the ownership or intimate acquaintance with a piece of soap. How ever, the fact that cleats have been nailed I to the floor in front of the ropes gives an ap pearance of probability to the stery.

LORD TENNYSON'S NEW VOLUME.

"Loeksley HaU Sixty Yoars After."

It would he affectation to pretend that a certain amount of apprehension did not enter into the intorest with which students of English poetry awaited the appearance of the present volume. Lord Tennyson labours under tho hoavy burden of an all but poerless reputation. Ho has always been the most fastidious and exacting critic of his own work, and the simple fact that ho deemed a poem worth publishing has come to bo acceptod as antecedent evidence of its claims. With some very trifling exceptions popular confidence has been fully justified by the result; and in no in stance, perhaps, have the favourable expec tu ions raised by announcements of Lord Tennyson's intentions been more signally f v filled than in this his latest effort. The o iginal poem of " Lockeley Hall," by the v .pi y force and individualityof its matter and f.' m, and invited parody, are since the first eil'jrt at travesty was made more than 40 years ago in the " Bon Gaultier Ballads," hardly a season has passed without some more or loss successful imitation of tho poem in burlesque. Perhaps the highest tribute to its poetic merit is the fast that in spito of all the vulgarising as sociations that have grown up round its familiar passages, they still retain intact their fresh and passionato charm. Apart altogether from the adaptations of the poem to tho purpose of parody, a regular series of mock sequels and satirioal after-thoughts have at frequent intervals made their ap pearance. Lord Tonnyson is not by any means the first or only verse writer who has thought of puttiug into words the mature refactions of tho horo on the love incident which produced such an outburst in the heyday of youth. When it was announced that the Laureate himself would undertake the labour of retrospect, it was reasonably felt that he had choson a theme of no small delicacy and danger. Thin indeed ia the partition between the sublime and the iculouFTn-poo. y oi e,io pu..-~r"~r hvrambic character. l»„.- ;„ ' Ally conceded that the epilogue is wholly worthy ftf the original piece. "Loeksley Ha'! Sixty Years After " does not so much contrast with the first " Loeksley Hall" as complete It. It is not a retraction or an explanation, but a development Taken together, tho two pieces will remain a mar vellous picture of the chastening power of time on tho impulses and hopes of an ardent soul. Thero ia r;ct the smallest incongruity between the two portraits. Life has not quelled the spirit or quenched the hope, but it has taught the madness alike of wild hope and sheer despair. The same problems press upon the mind of the veteran which fired tho spirit of the yovjng man ; but the superstitious oan^deißoe in this or tbat solution has heap, dissipated, and all the rancour Vgred of purblind enthusiasm has passed away. If there ever was any excuse for the notion, religiously held by many a votary of Tennyson,that the hero of "Looks ley Hall" waa none other than the poet himself, there is surely the fullest warrant for the belief that in thia pendant to the masterpiece we have em record the ripe life thoughts qf the laureate. If he was not the)disappointed lover andthe wild dreamer, ho at any rate entered with dramatic in tensity into all the emotions and aspira tions of his hero; and now, "60 years after," when experience and disillusion ment, it may be, have done their work, when it is possible to contemplate with clear eyes the condition oi tho world after it has spun for half a century " dovvn tho rigging grooves of change," we are invited to hear what false hopes have vanished, and, in their stead, what true and firm grounds of assurance, undiscerned, or at least undescribed, in the hot, fanciful day, remain to us. In ita main intent the poem is a sober study of tho harsh realities of existence-^a subdued, yet nob wholly despondent, confession that change is not progress, and that the goal of happiness lies within no horizon that can be scanned by weak mortal vision, Pessimistio it is not, for it bids us hope for happiness be yond these sorrowful confines. Religious it assuredly is, for it breathes the fullest spirit ol devotion,of self-sacrifice, of courage and of duty. As to form and treatment there is no ailing away from the model which the poet sot to himself 50 years ago. If there had been no prototype the present " dramatic lyric " would be immediately recognised as one of the finest of Tennyson's productions That it is the work of very recent years internal evidence sufficiently attests. That being so, we ran only wonder and con gratul.-.tvi ourselves upon the matchless vigour with which the Laureate's genius still moves. Nover did he touch the keys of passionate utterance with a firmer hand ; nevor did he clothe in more vividly poetic form the conceptions of a masculine intelli gence. So cpivndid an eld age is a welcome feature in the literary annals of our timo. The scene opens on the sandy tracts where in earlier days the hero had "watched th* ocean ridges roaring into patents." There, on the spat memorable by the agonies of big own young heart, he awaits hia grandson, who has suffered just such a loss as he had Buffered. But there was a difference as well as a likeness be tween the two loves. Neither faithless eweetheart nor jilted Bwain \v. 8 the same — So —your hippy suit was blasted—she the fault less, the qiviao! And you liken— boyish babble-thls boy-love of yours with mine.

In my life there was a pioture, sho that clisp'd my seek had flown; I waa left within tho shadow sitting on the wreck alon _ Yours haa been a slighter ailment, will you sicken for her sake 1 Yon, not you 1 your modem amourist la of easier, earlier make. Amy loved me, Amy rail'd me. Amy was a timid chi d; But jouc Judl h—but your worldling—ahe had never driven me wild. She that holds the diamond necklace dearer than the golden ring, She that finds a Winter sunset fairer than a mo;n of Spring. What was tho fate of Amy ? This, no doubt, la the question with which most feminine readers will turn to this late post script to the old lament. Hero is the answer:— Dea,d-and 00 yeara ago, and dead her aged hus band vow, I, this old white-headed dreamer, stoopt and klss'd her marble brow. Gone the fires of youth, tho follies, furies, cures, passionate te-pira. Gone like Ares and floods and earthquakes of the planet's dawning years. Gone the tyrant of my youth, and mute below the chancel stones. All Ifis virtues -1 forgive them—black in whito above his hones. Nay, he does more than forgive. Look 'Jng back through the mellowing mist of"V_!_! he sees more truly, because with eyes of honesto' l' l"*?' what the real char acter was of the mm. .whom once he reviled aa a drunken lout. A..}., moment he speaks, the once hated rival lie. deacl 1B the once accursed hall: — ■"■*-, Not the Hall tonight, my grandeon I Death and* Silence hold their own. Leave the master in tho rtrst dark hour of his lass sleep alone. Worthier soul, was ho than I am, sound and honest, riistio squire, lylndly landlord, boon companion—youthful jealousy Is a liar. Cast the poison from your bosom, oust the mad ness from your brain; Let the trampled serpent show you that you have not lived In vain. Silent ochoeßl you, my Lsonard, use and not abuse your day: Move amongSyonr people, know them, fallow him who led the way, Strove for 60 widow'd years to help his homelier brother men. Served the poor and Millt the cottago? raised the school and drainM the fen. That is, indeed, the moral of tho whole philosophy which cad experience has brought. Do the duty that lies nearest; be honeat, be kind, but do not dream vain dreams, or vex the air with empty cries.

There was reason, and reason enough, why the once broken-hearted lover should be content with his lot. He lost Amy—and woll it was for him that be lost her. For losing her ho gained Edith. But she, too, the wifo of his love, the light of his life, has passed away—

Gone with whom for forty years my life in golden sequence ran. She wiih all tho charm of woman, she with all the breadth of man.

Strong in will and rich In wisdom, Edith, loyal, lowly, Bweet, Feminine to her inmoßt hoart, and feminine to her tender feet. Very woman of very woman, nurse of ailing body and mind. She that link'd again the broken chain tbat bound me to my kind. Philosophy enters as largely into these after-thoughts as into the first wild laments and forecasts. The hatred and contempt which Lord Tennyson feels for the mere mouthing school of politicians and the cant of Democracy finds the fullest expres sion. AU the confident talk abont pro gress sickens him. Is there progress, he asks, or rather is there not decline ?

"Forward" rang the voices then, and ot the many mine waa one. Let ua hush thia cry of "Forward" till ten thousand years have gone. Progress in an age when_ Moonlight out rages are instruments of agitation.? Have we grown at last beyond the passions of the primal clan? "Kill your enemy, for you hatohlm, still "your enemy" was a man.

Have we sunk below them? peasants malm the helpless horso, and drive Inaooent cattle under thatch, and burn tna ldndlcr brntes alive. ' Brutes, tho brutesare not your wronger*—burnt at mtdslght, found at morn. Twisted hard In mortal agony with their off' spring, born-unborn. Universal suffrage and election-hsaring campaigns, he sees, are no cure for the ill of humanity— Chaos. Cosmos! Cosmos, Chaos 1 onoe again the sickening game; Freedom, free to slay herself, and dying while they shout her name.

Envy weara the mask of Love, and, laughing Bober face to scorn. Cries to Weakest an to Strong est, "Ye are equals, equal-born." , ~. Equal-born 1 O yes. If yonder hill be level with the flat, Charm un. Orator, till the Hon look no larger than the Cat. . . Till the Cat thro' that mirage of overheated language loom larger than the' Lion,—Demos end In working its own doom.

The only panacea, it would appear, ac cording to the voices of the mob Batterers, lies in destruction.

Bring the old dark ages back without the faith, without the hope. Break the State, the Churoh. tko Throne, and ro.l their ruins down the elope.

The canker invades every pat* and (unc tion of life, Authors-atheist, esmylst, novelist, realist,

rhymester, play your part, paint the mortal shame of nature with tha living hues of Art.

Rip your brothers' vlcea open, strip your own foul pasßions hare; Down with Reticence, down with Reverence* forward—naked-let them stare. Feeding tbo bui"diog rosa of boyhood with the drainage of your sewer; Send the drain into the fountain, lest the s'rearn should issue pure. Setthem aiaeuo... of Zolaism.— " **_; —"Mm_gip|£_s*=St*i"='"*^pr Forward, forward, ay. a nu-v-^ *.'J «>;*,'« i ward too into the abysm. -•-. . "©<?„ «,„■*. ». V*-... »"o<j Do your bust to charm the worst, to lowei ~,,, ' rlslnj. race of men; , _ • r>« Havo we risen from out tho beast ? Then DtoK v^w

into tho beast again. Here is a terrible picture of modern " Pro gress":— It la well that while we range with Science,

glorying ia the Time, , •■-'___, City children soate and blaoken sool and sense in city slime.

Thera among the booming alleys Progress halts on palsied feet. • . ,-■ Crime and hrager cast oar maidens by tno thousands on the street

There the Master norimps hl3 haggard semp stress of her dally bread. . There a single sordid attic holds the living aotl the deed.

There tho smouldering Are of fever oreeps ao crOßS the rotted floor. And the crowded couch of Incest in the warrens of the poor. Heßper—Venus—wore we native to that splen dour or in Mars, . ■ ,- ._, We should see the Globe wo groan ln, fairest ot their evening stars.

Could we dream of wars and carnage, craft and madnesß. lust and spite. Roaring London, raving Paris, ln that point ot peaceful light?

Might we not Inglano'ng heavenwMd on a star bo silver-fair. - .„„. Yearn, and olasn the hands and mnrmnr. " Would to God that we were th. el Who is therenot familiar with thesadread ful realities could imagine them'possible in so fair a world of ours 1 Forward, bsckwara, baokward, forward, ln the immeasurable sea, , '_ Sway'd by vaßter ebbs and flows than can be known to you or me.

All the suna—are these but symbols of Innumer able man, Man or Mind that sees a shadow of the planner or tne plan ?

Is thore evil bnt on earthl or pain lo every peopled spheral . Well, he grateful for thesoundlng watch word, " Kvolu' lon " here.

Evolution ever climbing after some Ideal good. And Reversion over dragging Evoluteon Jn tbe mud What are men that Ho should heed us? cried the kins ct sacred son?; ..'.■.. Insects ot an hour, thathourly work their brother in eet wi-ouk, While the silent Heavens roll, and Suns alone their fiery war, _ . All their planets whirling round thorn, flash a million miles a day. Tho interest of the volume centres in this one poem, nnd perhaps is bounded by it. The political jeremiad on " The Fleet" and tbe ode written for the opening of the Indian and Colonial Exhibition are reprinted ; bat will hardly add to the fame of the Laureate. The little drama called the "Promise of May? fffls ISO out of the 200 pages. It was no great success when produced on the stage and hardly atones by i_ merits as a eloseat drama for its deficiency in theatrical interest As a study of character, no doubt. It is thorough and effective. " A surfaoo : man of theories, true to none," Is a common type just now, and deserves the exposure and the poetic justice which he receives in the piece. The dialect of the dialogues ia as conscientiously done as would naturally be expected in a work from the hands of the author of the "Northern Farmer." There ore ono or two very pretty songs— songs with which we must take our farewell of a volume that will be most welcome to all who wish well to Lord Tennyson and to English literature. -- BONO. What did ye do, and what did re soay, Wi' the wild whits rose, and the woodbine sar An' the mlddlers all mhw'd, and the sky as blue— What did ye ea _•. and why did ye do. When ye thowt there werenawbody watohln* o'you, And yon and your Sally was f orkln' the haay.' At the end ot the aaay. For the last load hoam ? What did we do, and what did we saayv Wi' tha hriarsa green and the wilier sa gear. An' the midders all mow'd, and the sky sa bine- Do yon think I be gawn' to tell it to yon. What we mowt saay. age what we mowt do. When me and my Sally was f orkin' the haay, At the end ol tlie daay, For the last load hoam ? " 0 happy lark, that warblast high . bovothyfowlr nest, O brook, that brawlest merrily by Thro' field that onco were bleat; O tower spiring to the sky. O grave in daisies dre»t, O Love and Life, how weary iml, And bow I long tor rest. London "Standard."

THE LAUNDRY SECRET.

The question how the brilliant gloss on linen done up in laundries is obtained is often asked, and the general impression is that this shining surface is owing to some peculiar substance put into the starch. But a skilled laundryman, when asked what was the secret of this work, replied: " The secret 1b pressure, nothing more." The pressure of moving hot cylinders is used in steam laun ___!_ ** must be admitted, however, that (.[,j g pj^auro combined with heat, is very bard upon~£te*ext?ra of the linen, and every woma7_3 __to * convenience In the oity sends her husb_stsii h _ tß. and collb^ and cuffs out to bo laundr£e3;« _£[J^ *[ c" how much sooner they, are worn otfakJfiSSj when of old she had them done up by her serving maid, or by ber own busy hands. A correspondent of an exchange, writing on the subject of laundry work, has some suggestions we fancy our readers will find! of interest, and we quote at length : In a recent visit to a steam laundry we wero much interested in the patent appliances for laundering cuffs and collars to make them look like new, and we found that the linen was passed between two moving hot cylinders under a pressure of 120 pounds,. and thus receives the high polish. The laundry work of the Chinaman ia> unsurpassed, .and he seems to gain the re sult by suitable irons and the expenditure of physical strength. The ordinary ironer will succeed well if, after being sure the articles are washed thoroughly, rinsed free from all traces of soap and dipped in pure, clean starch, she will use clean, smooth irons, and bear down heavily upon th. round toe of the iron in robbing the linen. Practice will give a good degree of sncoess. I It might be easier to try a tuff at first, then a collar, because. the former haa a broad, smooth snrface, with fewer seams and edges to turn yellow if the iron is too hoi. There are starches of various kinds, patent glosses and divers inventions said to produce _ polish upon linen ; but the better way is to depend npon the common starch bought ia the balk and of the best grade. Yon .can add the other ingredients to suit yourself. Some laundresses stir the hot starch once; of. twice round with a spermaceti candle kept for the purpose, and others add a bit of clean mntton tallow ; but foreign substance like wax, gnm arable,' salt or sugar must b. added with caution. Very nice laundry work is done by the aid of pure starch I alone, with no additions. Whatever may be the preparation used In large laundries, we know they do not depend entirely upon the starch to produce the coveted glow,

NG STAR, SATURDAY, FEBRUARY 5, 1887

THE AUCKLAND EVEN

3