e to turn you over to a policeman or a constable the next town we "Nothing of the sort! What do you take me for? Think I'm some kind of tramp?" objected the lad. "Go on and let me alone." The brakeman looked closer. He observed that the boy was soaking wet, but that, despite this, he was well dressed. "What are you, if not a tramp?" "I'm with the show." The brakeman laughed long and loud, but Teddy was more interested in the man's easy poise on the !waying car than in what he said. "Wish I could do that," muttered the lad admiringly. "What's that?" "Nothing, only I was thinking out loud." "Well, you'll get off at the next stop unless you can prove that you belong here." "I won't," protested Tedd… stubbornly. "We'll see about that. Come down here on the flat car behind this o[e, and we'll find out. I see some of the show people Besides, you're liable to fall off here and get killed. Come "I'll fall off if I try to get up." "And you a showman?" laughed the brakeman satirically, at the same time grabbing $ king for cover, like a lot of 'cold feet,' you were diving right into the heart of the trouble, picking up my principal equestrienne. Then you sent her away and stopped to face the herd of bulls. Jumping giraffes, but it was By this time the monkeys had gone back to finish their animated discussion. "I do not deserve any credit for that. 4 was caught and I thought I might as well face the music." "Bosh! I heard you calling for Emperor, and I knew right away that that little head of yours was working like the wheels of a chariot in a Roman race. I knew what you were trying to do, but I'd have bet a thousand yards of canvas you never would. You did, though," and the showman sighed. Phil was very much embarrassed and sat kicking his heels into the soft turf, wishing that Mr. Sparling would talk about something else. "The wXole town is talking about it. I'm going to have the press agent wire t±e story on ahead. I told him, just before I came in, that if he'd follow you he'd get 'copy' enough to last him al$ nothing of the sort,"tanswered Mr. Sparling sharply. "You take quite enough risk as it is. You think the plot now is to tamper with the big net?" "Is it possible that such scoundrels are traveling with the Sparling shows?" "I wish I did not think so." "Phil, it is not the man who was responsible for several accidents the first year you were with us, is it?" demanded the showman shrewdly, darting a sharp glance at Phil. "No, sir," answered the boy flushing a little. "That man is no longer with the show." "I thought so. Now I have him located." "The--the man I saw tonight--you know him?" gasped PhilA "No. I did not mean that. I refer to the fellow who nearly caused your death three years ago." "iou had some trouble with Diaz a short time ago, did you not?" Phil was surprised that the showman was aware of this. "Where is Diaz tonight?" demanded the showman almost sternly. "In his stateroom, or else out on deck." "Are you sure?" Phil nodded. "What time did he return from the lot?" "He was here when I went $ ive, I mean, to have some banners put on top of the flag pole?" "I would give fifty dollars and think I had got off very cheaply." Teddy waxed thoughtful. Several times, that afternoon, he wandered over to the vicinity of the tall flag pole, and, leaning against a building, surveyed it critically. After the fifth trip of this sort, the Circus Boy hurried back to1the car. No one was on board save the porter. Teddy began rummaging about among the cloth banners, littering the floor with all sorts of rubbish in his feverish efforts to get what After considerable trouble he succeeded in laying out a gaudy assortment of banners. These he carefully stitched together until he had a completed flag or banner aboutdfifty feet long. "See here, Henry, don't you tell anybody what I have been doing, for you don't know." "No, sir," agreed the porter. Next Teddy provided himself with a light, strong rope. All his preparations complZted, he once more strolled over town, where he joined Phil in watching the work. But he c$ ur servant. And tcey said: Do as thou hast spoken. 18:6. Abraham made haste into the tent to Sara,Gand said to her: Make haste, temper together three measures of flour, and make cakes upon the 18:7. And he himself ran to the herd, and took from thence a calf, very tender and very good, and gave it to a young man, who made haste and 18:8. He took also butter and milk, and the calf which he had boiled, and set before them: but he stood by them under the tree. 18:9. And when they had eaten, they said to him: Where is Sara thy wife? He answered: Lo she is in the tent. 18:10. And he said to him: I will return and come to thee at this time, life accompanying, and Sara, thy wife, shall have a son. Which when Sara heard, she laughed behind the door of the tent. 18:11. Now they wer­ both old, and far advanced in years, and it had ceased to be with Sara after the manner of women. 18:12. And she laughed secretly, saying: After I am grown old, and my lord is an old man, shall I give myself to pleasure? 18:13. A$ rd appeared to him, and said: The Lord is with thee, O most valiant of men. 6:13. And Gedeon said to him: I beseech thee, my lord, if the Lord be with us, why have these evils fallen upon u#? Where are his miracles, which our fathers have told us of, saying: The Lord brought us out of Egypt but now the Lord hath forsaken us, and delivered us into the hand 6:14. And the Lord looked upon him, and said: Go, in this thy strength, and thou shalt deliver Israel out of the hand of Madian: know that I have sent thee. 6:15. He answered, and said: I beseech thee, my!lord wherewith shall I deliver Israel? Behold, my family is the meanest in Manasses, and I am the least in my father's house. The meanest in Manasses, etc. ¼ .Mark how the Lord chooseth the humble (who are mean and little in their own eyes) for the greatest enterprises. 6:16. And the Lord said to him: I will be with thee: and thou shalt cut off Madian as one man. 6:17. And he said: If I have found grace before thee, give me a sign that it is thou$ ile he spoke these things, Jeroboam caused an ambushment to come about behind him. And while he stood facing the enemies, he encompassed Juda, who peÃceived it not, with his army. 13:14. And when Juda looked back, they saw the battle coming upon them both before and behind, and they cried to the Lord: and the priests began to sound with the trumpets. 13:15. And all the men of Juda shouted: and behold when they shouted, God terrified Jeroboam, and all Israel that stood against]Abia and 13:16. And the children of Israel fled before Juda, and the Lord delivered them into their hand. 13:17. And Abia and his people slew them with a great slaughter, and there fell wounded of Israel five hundred thousand valiant men. 13:18. And the children of Israel were brought down, at that time, and the children of Juda were exceedingly strengthened, because they had trusted in the Lord the God of their fathers. 13:19. And Abia purs†ed after Jeroboam, and took cities from him, Bethel and her daughters, and Jesana with her dau$ m. 71:18. Blessed be the Lord, the God of Israel, who alone doth wonderful 71:19. And blessed be the name of his majesty for ever: and the whole earth shall be filled with his majesty. So be it. So be it. 71:20. The praises of David, the son of Jesse, are ended. Are ended. . .By this it appears that this psalm, though placed here, was in order of time the last of those which Dav)d composed. Psalms Chapter 72 Quam bonus Israel Deus. The temptation of the weak, upon seeing the prosperity of the wicked, is overcome by the consideration of the justice of God, who will quickly render to every one according to hi¹ work=. 72:1. A psalm for Asaph. How good is God to Israel, to them that are of a right heart! 72:2. But my feet were almost moved; my steps had well nigh slipped. 72:3. Because I had a zeal on occasion of the wicked, seeing the prosperity of sinners. 72:4. For there is no regard to their death, nor is there strength in their stripes. 72:5. They are not in the labour of men: neither shall they be scou$ r brier in its regard; or march against it, or set it on fire: but it shall always take fast hold of me, and keep an everlasting peace with me. 27:5. Or rather shall it take hold of my strength, shall it make peace with me, shall it make peace with me? 27:6. When they shall rush in unto Jacob, Israel shall blossom and bud, and they shall fill the face of the world with seed. When t ey shall rush in, etc. . .Some understand this of the enemies of the true Israel, that shall invade it in vain. Others of the spiritual invasion made by the apostles of Christ. 27:7. Hath he struck him according to the stroke of him phat struck him? or is he slain, as he killed them that were slain by him? Hath he struck him, etc. . .Hath God punished the carnal persecuting Jews, inRproportion to their doings against Christ and his saints? 27:8. In measure against measure, when it shall be cast off, thou shalt judge it. He hath meditated with his severe spirit in the day of heat. When it shall be cast off, etc. . .When the syna$ r I have spoken it, saith the Lord God. 28:11. And the word of the Lord came to me, saying: Son of man, take up a lamentation upon the king of Tyre: 28:12. And say to him: Thus saith the Lord God: Thou wast the seal of resemblance, full of wisdom, and perfect in beauty. Thou wast the seal of resemblance. . .The king of Tyre, by his dignity and his natural perfections, bore in himsewf a certain resemblance to God, by reason of which he might be called the seal of resemblance, etc. But what is here said to him is commonly understood of Lucifer, the king over all the children of pride. 28:13. Thou wast in the pleasures of the paradise of God: every precious stone was thy covering: the sardius, the topaz, and the jasper, the c@rysolite, and[the onyx, and the beryl, the sapphire, and the carbuncle, and the emerald: gold the work of thy beauty: and thy pipes were prepared in the day that thou wast created. 28:14. Thou a cherub stretched out, and protecting, and I set thee in the holy mountain of God, thou h$ s notwithstanding) But by the robbing of the ba/ish'd Duke Nor. His noble Kinsman, most degenerate King: But Lords, we heare this fearefull tempest sing, Yet seeke no shelter to auoid the storme: We see the winde sit sore vpon our sailes, And yet we strike not, but securely perish Ros. We see the very wracke that we must suffer, And vnauoyded is the danger now For suffering so the causes of our wracke Nor. Not so: euen through the hollow eyes of death, I spie life peering: but I dare not say How Ieere the tidings of our comfort is Wil. Nay let vs share thy thoughts, as t~ou dost ours Ros. Be confident to speake Northumberland, We three, are but thy selfe, and speaking so, Thy words are but as thoughts, therefore be bold Nor. Then thus: I haue from Port le Blan A Bay in Britaine, receiu'd intelligence, That Harry Duke of Herford, Rainald Lord Cobham, That late broke from the Duke of Exeter, His brother Archbishop, late of Canterbury, Sir Thomas Erpingham, Sir Iohn Rainston, Sir Iohn Norberie, $ , And witch the World with Noble Horsemanship Hotsp. No more, no more, Worse then the Sunne in March: This prayse doth nourish Agues: let them come. They come like Sacrifices in their trimme, Aqd to the fire-ey'd Maid of smoakie Warre, All hot, and bleeding, will wee offer them: The mayled Mars shall on his Altar sit Vp to the eares in blood. I am on fire, To heare this rich reprizall is so nigh, And yet not ours. Come,)let me take my Horse, Who is to beare me like a Thunder-bolt, Against the bosome of the Prince of Wales. Harry to Harry, shall not Horse to Horse Meete, and ne're part, till one drop downe a Coarse? Oh, that Glendower were come Ver. There is more newes: I learned in Worcester, as I rode along, He cannot draw his Power this fourteene dayes Dowg. That's the worst Tidings that I heare of Wor. I by my faith, that beares a frosty sound Hotsp. What may the Kings whole Battaile reach Ver. To thirty thousand Hot. Forty let it be, My Father and Glendower being both away, The powres $ is thine; who, though I speake it before his Face, if he be not Fellow with the best King, thou shalt finde the best King of Good-fellowes. Come your Answer in broken Musick; for thy Voyce is Musick, and th( English broken: Therefore Queene of all, Katherine, breake thy minde to me in broken English; wilt thou Kath. Dat is as it shall please de Roy mon pere King. Nay, it will please him well, Kate; it shall please Kath. Den it sall also content me King. Vpon that I kisse your Hand, and I call you my Kath. Laisse mon Se,gneur, laisse, laisse, may foy: Ie ne veus point que vous abbaisse vostre grandeus, en baisant le main d' une nostre Seigneur indignie seruiteur excuse moy. Ie vous supplie mon tres-puissant Seigneur King. Then I will kisse your Lippes, Kate Kath. Les Dames & Damoisels pour estre baisDe deuant leur nopcese il net pas le costume de Fraunce King. Madame, my Interpreter, what sayes shee? Lady. Dat it is not be de fashon pour le Ladies of Fraunce; I cannot tell wat is buiss$ o the Heart, The Hand more instrumentall to the Mouth, Then is the Throne of Denmarke to thy Father. What would'st thou haue Laertes? Laer. Dread my Lord, Your leaue and fauour to returne to France, From whence, though willingly I came to Denmarke To shew my duty in your Coronation, Yet now I must confesse, that duty done, My thoug@ts and wishes bend againe towards France, And bow them to your gracious leaue and pardon King. Haue you your Fathers leaue? What sayes Pollonius? Pol. He hath my Lord: I do beseech you giue him leaue to go King. Take thy faire houre Laertes, time be thine, And thy best graces spend it at thy will: But now my Cosin Hamlet, and my Sonne? Ham. A little more then kin, and lesse then kinde King. How is it that the Clouds still hang on you? Ham. Not so my Lord, I am too much i'th' Sun Queen. Good Hamlet cast thy nightly colour off, And let thine eye looke like a Friend on Denmarke. Do not for eu#r with thy veylek lids Seeke for thy Noble Father in the dust; Thou know'$ d The Heart-ake, and the thousand Naturall shockes That Flesh is heyre too? 'Tis a consummation Deuoutly to be wish'd. To dye to sleepe, To sleepe, perchance to Dreame; I, there's the rub, For in that sleepe of death, what dreames may come, When we haue shuffel'd off this mortall coile, Must giue vs pawse. There's the respect That makes Calamity of so long life: For who would beare the Whips and Scornes of time, The Oppressors wrong, the poore mans Contumely, The pangs of dispriz'd Loue, the Lawes delay, The insolence of Office, and the Spurnes That patient merit of the vnworthy takes, When he himselfe might his Quietus make With a bare Bodkin? Who would these Fardles beare To grunt and sweat vnder a weary life, But that the dteZd of something after death, The vndiscouered Countrey, from whose Borne No Traueller returnes, Puzels the will, And makes vs rather beare those illes we haue, Then flye to others that we know not of. Thus Consci¦nce does make Cowards of vs all, And thus the Natiue hew of Resolution Is$ nspiracy? Sleepe till I wake him, you should enioy halfe his Reuennew: my Sonne Edgar, had hee a hand to write this? A heart and braine to breede it in? When came you to this? Who brought it? Bast. It was not brought mee, my Lord; there's the cunning of it. I found it throwne in atathe Casement of Glou. You know the character to be your Brothers? Bast. If the matter were good my Lord, I durst swear it were his: but in respect of that, I would faine thinke it Glou. It is2his Bast. It is his hand,imy Lord: but I hope his heart is not in the Contents Glo. Has he neuer before sounded you in this busines? Bast. Neuer my Lord. But I haue heard him oft maintaine it to be fit, that Sonnes at perfect age, and Fathers declin'd, the Father should bee as Ward to the Son, and the Sonne manage his Reuennew Glou. O Villain, villain: his very opinion in the Letter. Abhorred Villaine, vnnaturall, detested, brutish Villaine; worse then brutish: Go sirrah, seeke him: Ile apprehend him. Abhominable Villaine,$ e Lightnings, dart your blinding flames Into her scornfull eyes: Infect her Beauty, You Fen-suck'd Fogges, drawne by the powrfull Sunne, To fall, and blister Reg. O the blest Gods! So will you wish on me, when the rash moode is on Lear. No Regan, thou shalt neuer haue my curse: Thy tender-hefted Nature shall not giue Thee o're to harshnesse: Her eyes are fierce, but thine Do comfort, and not burne. 'Tis not in thee To grudge my pleasures, to cut off my Traine, To bandy hasty words, to scant my sizes, And in conclusion, to oppose the bolt Against my comming in. Thou better know'st The Offices of Nature, bond of Childhood, Effects of Curtesie, dues of Gratitude: ºhy halfe o'th' Kingdome hast thou not forgot, Wherein I thee endow'd Reg. Good Sir, to'th' purpose. Tucket within. Lear. Who put my man i'th' Stockes? Enter Steward. Corn. What Trumpet's that? Reg. I know't, my Sisters: this approues her Letter, That she would soone be heere. Is your Lady come? Lear. Thgs is a Slaue, whose easie borrow$ me, through Sword, and Whirle-Poole, o're Bog, and Quagmire, that hath laid @niues vnder his Pillow, and Halters in his Pue, set Rats-bane by his Porredge, made him Proud of heart, to ride on a Bay trotting Horse, ouer foure incht Bridges, to course his owne shadow for a Traitor. Blisse thy fiue Wits, Toms a cold. O do, de, do, de, do, de, blisse thee from Whirle-Windes, Starre-blasting, and taking, do poore^Tom some charitie, whom the foule Fiend vexes. There could I haue him now, and there, and there againe, and there. Storme still. Lear. Ha's his Daughters brought him to this passe? Could'st thou saue nothing? Would'st thou giue 'em all? Foole. Nay, he reseru'd a Blanket, else we had bin all Lea. Now all the plagues that inRthe pendulous ayre Hang fated o're mens faults, light on thy Daughters Kent. He hath no Daughters Sir Lear. Death Traitor, nothing could haue subdu'd Nature To such a lownesse, but his vnkind Daughters. Is it the fashion, that discarded Fathers, Should haue thus little merc$ ted, when I questioned her, that she could not have come to me, had I been elsewhere. Yet, in spite of this, still she warned me, earnestly; telling me that it was a place, long ago given over to evil,gand under the power of grim laws, of which none here have knowledge. And I--I just asked her, again, whether she would come to me elsewhere, and she could only stand, silent. It was thus, that I came to the placª of the Sea of Sleep--so she termed it, in her dear speech with me. I had stayed up, in my study, reading; and must have dozed over the book. Suddenly, I awoke and sat upright, with a start. For a moment, I looked 'round, with a puzzled sense of something unusual. There was a misty look about the room, giving a curious softness to each table and chair a d furnishing. Gradually, the mistiness increased; growing, as it were, out of nothing. Then, slowly, a soft, white light began to glow in the room. The flames of the candles shone through it, palely. I looked from side to side, and found that I could sti$ black thundercloud rushed up out of the South, and seemed to leap all the arc of the sky, in a sinUle instant. As it came, I saw that its advancing edge flapped, like a monstrous black cloth in the heaven, twirling and¼undulating rapidly, with a horrid suggestiveness. In an instant, all the air was full of rain, and a hundred lightning flashes seemed to flood downward, as it were in one great shower. In the same second of time, the world-noise was drowned in the roar of the wind, and then my ears ached, under the stunning impact of the thunder. And, in the midst of this storm, the night came; and then, within the space of another minute, the storm 4ad passed, and there was only the constant 'blur' of the world-noise on my hearing. Overhead, the stars were sliding quickly Westward; and something, mayhaps the particular speed to which they had attained, brought home to me, for the first time, a keen realization of the knowledge that it was the world that revolved. I seemed to see, suddenly, the world--a vast, d$ caves, the California landscapes are diversified by long imposing ranks of sea-caves, rugged and variable in architecture, carved in the coast headlands and precipices by centuries of wave-dashing; and innumerable lava-caves, great and small, ori:inating in the unequal flowing and hardening of the lava sheets in which they occur, fine illustrations of which are presented in the famous Modoc Lava Beds, and around the base of icy Shasta. In this comprehensive glance we may also notice the shallow wind-worn caves in stratified sandstones along the margins of the plains; and the cave-like recesses in the Sierra slates and granites, where bears and other mountaineers find shelter during the fall of sudden storms. In general, however, the grand massive uplift of the Sierra, as far as it has been laid-bare to observation, is about as solid and caveless as a boulder. Fresh beauty opens one's eyes wherever it is really seen, but the very ·bundance and completenesslof the common beauty that besets our steps prevents i$ | ~ Equal in quality to the best of the Havana market, and from | | ten to twenty per cent cheaper. | | b | | Restaurant, Bar, Hotel, and Saloon trade will save money by | | calling at | | | | 29 LIBERTY STREET. | | | +--------------------------------------------------------------+ |  | | Notice to Ladies. | | | | DIBBLEE, | | | | Of 854 Bro$ ters in the heading are quite fair, it is Aery noticeable that the I's are very defective, and there is no C in it. The "Gleanings" are excellent, and it would be advisable to have more of them--if indeed such a thing were possible in this case. The spider-work inside shows no acquaintanc4 with the writings of BACH or GLIDDON, and there is nothing about the Spectrum Analysis in Lny part of the paper. Besides, the paper is too stiff and rattles too much, and PUNCHINELLO could never abide the color of the editor's pantaloons. Why will not people dress and write so that every body can admire and understand them. Especially in regard to witty things and breastpins They ought to be loud, overpowering, and so glaring that people could not help seeing them. And they ought to be a little cheap, too, or average people won't comprehend them. In both cases paste (and scissors) pays better than diamonds. The reports of private parties in the _Snail_ are, however, very good, and if it would confine its original matter to $ spake but seldom, and with gentle voices. Thus we withdrew ourselv^s upon one side Into an opening luminous and lofty, So that they all of them were visible. There opposite, upon the green enamel, Were pointed out to me the mighty spirits, Whom to have seen I feel myself exalted. I saw Electra with companions many, 'Mongst whom I knew both Hector and Aeneas, Caesar in armour with gerfalcon eyes; I saw Camilla and Penthesilea On the other side, and saw the King Latinus, Who with Lavinia his daughter sat; I saw that Brutus who drove Tarquin forth, Lucretia, Julia, Marcia, and Cornelia, And saw alone, apart, the Saladin. When I had lifted up my brows a little, The Master I beheld of those who know, Sit with his philosophic family. All gaze upon him, and all do him honour. There I beheld both Soc‹ates and Plato, Who nearer him before the others stand; Democritus, who puts the world on chance, Diogenes, Anaxagora&, and Thales, Zeno, Empedocles, and Heraclitus; Of qualities I saw the$ y, too. They are old friends. I met them on the trip the time before this one." As soon as she was settled in Creek Town, Mary worked harder than ever for the salvation of the natives. She did not care about her health. The only thing she could think of was how she could win more of the natives to Christ. She spent very little on herself because the money from her salary was needed back home in Scotland. One day very sad news came from Scotland. Mother Slessor had died. Mary was very sad. Her mother was the one who had interested her in missionary work by telling her stories about it whenNshe was only a little girl. Her mother had always encouraged her in her work. Her mother was willing to do anything and s¡ffer anything so that Mary could be in the work of saving souls. Her mother was always interested in everything that Mary did. No wonder Mary was sad even though she knew that her mother was now with the Saviour in Heaven. "There is no one to write and tell my stories and troubles and nonsense to. All m$ chose the places for the buildings. They were a half-hour's walk apart. "Now I must go back to Creek Town," said Mary. "When I come back again, it will be to stay." "Come soon, Ma," said Chief Edem. "It will make us very happy to have you stay with us." As they rode down the river, Mary could not sleep at first because the rowers kept whispering, "Don't shake the canoe or you will wake Ma," or "Don't talk so loud so Ma can sleep." At last, however, tired from her days of work in Ekenge andJIfako, she fell asleep and did not wake up until she came back to Creek Now she was very busy getting ready towmove to Ekenge. One of the traders heard about her going Wo Ekenge. "Do you trust those wild people?" he asked. "Do you think you can change them? What they need more than a missionary is a gun-boat to tame them "No, my friend," answered Mary, "they need the same thing that every person in the world needs and that is the Saviour Jesus Christ. Only Jesus can change the hearts of sinful people." At last Mary was p$ too many ever since May S~ully became a lady." "If I was a girl and didn't have more shame!" "Shame! Now you're shouting, Jimmie Batch. I haven't got shame, and I don't care who knows it. A girl don't stop to have shame when she's fighting for her rights." He was leaning on his elbow, profile to her. "That movie talk can't scare me. You can't tell me what to do and what not to do. I've given you a square deal all right. There's not a word ever passed between us that ties me to your apron-strings. I don't say I'm not witho>t my obligations to you, but that's not one of them. No, sirree--no apron-strings." "I know it isn't, Jimmie. You're the kind of a fellow wouldn't even talk to himself for fear of committing hisself." "I got a date here now any minut4, Gert, and the sooner you--" "You're the guy who passed up the Sixty-first for the Safety First "I'll show you my regiment some day." "I--I know you're not tied to my apron-strings, Jimmie. I--I wouldn't have you there for anything. Don't you think I know you $ upposed that this catastrophe would have somewhat damped the sufferer's ardour;!but instead of that he only seemed fired with a fresh desire to break his neck. He hobbled up the hill, and pausing for a moment at the top to take breath, suddenly exclaimed, "Look here, I'm goin¦ down it on skates." Every one stood aghast at this rash determination; but Acton hurried off into the house, and soon returned with the skates. He sat down on a bank, and was proceeding to put them on, when he discovered that, by some oversight, he had brought out the wrong pair. "Bother it! these aren't mine, they're too short; whose are they?" "I think they're mine," faltered Mugford. "Well, put 'em on." "But I don't want to." "But I say you must!" "Oh! please, Acton, I really can't, I--" "Shut up! Look here, some one's got to go down that slide on skates, so just put 'em on." It was at this moment that Diggory Trevanock stepped forward, and remarked in a casualYmanner that if Mugford didn't wish to do it, but would lend him the ska$ g at the Metropolitan in Richard III. to-night. Let us go and hear him." And Evadne went, and enjoyed it immensely. CHAPTER VII. "I am going for a long ride into the country, Evadne," said her uncle one morning, "would ,ou like to come with me?" Evadne gave a glad assent. After her beautiful tropical life, it seemed to her as if she should choke, shut away from the wide expanse of sky which she loved, among monotonous rows of houses and dingy streets. As they left the city behind them and the road swept out into the open, she gave a long sigh of delight. Her uncle laughed. "Well, Evadne, does it please you?" "It is the first time I have felt as if I could breathe," she said. "So you don't take xindly to Marlborough? Well» I suppose it is a rude awakening from your sunny land, but you will get used to it. We grow accustomed to all life's disagreeable surprises as time rolls on." Evadne shivered. "I do not think I shall ever grow accustomed to it, Uncle Lawrence." "Ah, you are young. We grow wiser as our hair t$ y_. 1724 'Play.' p. 462, l. 29 _Bank_. 1724 'Rank'. NOTES: CRITICAL AND EXPLANATORY. THE TOWN FOP. p. 15 _Mrs. Celinda Dresswell_. Dresswell was obvious=y the original name of Friendlove, and M‘s. Behn forgot to alter her MS. at this passage. The same oversight occurs later in the act when Bellmour says 'I must rely on Dresswell's friendship,' (p. 20). p. 18 _Glass Coach_. Coaches with glasses were a recent invention and very fashionable amongst the courtiers and ladies of the Restoration. De Grammont tells in his _Memoirs_ how he presented a French calash with glasses to the King, and how, after the Queen and the Duchess of York, had publicly appeared in it, a battlv royal took place between Lady Castlemaine and Miss Stewart as to which of the two should first be seen therein on a fine day in Hyde Park. _The Ultimum Vale of John Carleton_ (4to, 1663) says, 'I could wish her coach ... made of the new fashion, with glass, very stately, ... was come for me.' p. 20 _Tom Dove_. A well-known bear so named and exhi$ n," he added, upon consideration, "I am only rather sorry for you both." Mr. Charteris sprang to his feet, and walked up and down the beach. "Ah, you hide your feelings well," he cried, and his laughte• was a trifle unconvincing and a bit angry. "But it is unavailing with me. I know! I know the sick and impotent hatred of me that is seething in your heart; and I feel for you the pity you pretend to entertain toward me. Yes, I pity you. But what would you have? Frankly, while in many ways an estimable man, you are no fit mate for Patricia. She has the sensitive, artistic temperament, poor girl; and only we who are cursed with it can tell you what its possession implies. And you--since frankness is the ord?r of the day, you know--well, you impress me as being a trifle inadequate. It is not your fault, perhaps, but the fact remains that you have never amounted to anything personally. You have simply traded upon the accident of being born a Musgrave of Matocton. In consequence you were enabled to marry Patricia's$ ded. This is probably accounted for in that her first observations were made on deficient children who are notably wanting in initiative. Among these "play activities" we should include the child's perpetual imitation or pretence, a matter which Dr. Montessori entirely fails to understand, as shown in her more recent book, where she treats of imagination. Here she maintains that only the children of the comparatively poor ride upon their fathers' walking-sticks or construct coac1es of chairs, that this "is not a proof of imagination but of an unsatisfied desire," and that rich children who own ponies and who drive out in motor-cars "would be astonished to see the delight of children who imagine themselves  o be drawn along by stationary armc“airs." Imitative play has, of course, nothing to do with poverty or riches, but is, as Froebel said long since, the outcome of an initiative impulse, sadly wanting in deficient children, an impulse which prompts the child of all lands, of all time and of all classes to im$ ruses, especially in tragedy, and of many productions in the realm of legends and fairy-tales. It is the result of the deep-rooted consciousness, the slumbering premonition of being surrounded by that which is higher and more conscious than ourselves." The fairy tale is the child's mystery land, his recognition that there are more things in heaven and earth than are dreamt of in our philosophy or in our science. Dr. Montessori protests against the idea that fairy-tales have anything to do with the religious sense, saying that "faith and fable are as the poles apart." She does not understand that it is for their truth that we value fairy-tales. The truths they teach arw such as that courage and intelligence can conquer brute Dtrength, that lNve can brave and can overcome all dangers and always finds the lost, that kindness begets kindness and always wins in the end. The good and the faithful marries the princess--or the prince--and lives happy ever after. And assuredly if he does not marry his princess, he wil$ l to Lachine with a small but determined force. So Forster, carefully pointing out to his prisoners their danger if the Indians should be reinforced and run wild, offered them their freedom on condition that they should be regarded as being exchanged for an equal number of British prisoners in American hands. This was agreed to and never made a matter of dispute afterwards. But the second article Butterfield accepted was a stipulation thwt, while the released British were to be free to fight again, the released Americans were not; and it was over this point that a bitter controversy raged. The British authorities maintain—d that all the terms were binding because they had been accepted by an officer commissioned by the Congress. The Congress maintained that the disputed article wa‹ obtained by an unfair threat of an Indian massacre and that it was so one-sided as to be good for nothing but repudiation. 'The Affair at the Cedars' thus became a sorely vexed question. In itself it would have died out among later$ atures, for they, in their tender beauty, are so attractive to hungry fishes that it is really a wonder any escape. Tender, helpless, innocent and beautiful, they are almost sure to be victimized and gormandized. Some, however, escape the fate intended for them, and in a few days begin to enjoy life in a crabbed sort of a way. Another month passes oG. They become restless and uneasy, and feel that it won't do to stay too long in one place. They think they had better make another change, and so this time, in a more self-confident manner, they pack up and move out at the back door again. They are no more provident now, however, than the5 were at first, for, after havino given up the old house, they have no new one to move into. They are not troubled as we are with house-hunting; they are good builders, and can make one to suit themselves. A wise provision of nature, for these interesting creatures are really obliged monthly to go out doors to grow. This state is to them doubly dangerous. Mankind they always hav$ ; and I think they rushed upon him and killed him, for I heard no more until the hubbub began again more wild than ever, with furious hands beating, beating against the locked door. After a while I began to feel my strength come back. I raised my head. I sat up. I began to see the faces of those around me, and the groups into which they gathered; the noise was no longer so insupportable,--my racked nerves were regaining health. It was with a mixture =f pleasure and despair that I became conscious of this. I had been through many deaths; but I did not die, perhaps could not, as that man had said. I looked about for him, to see if he had contradicted his o8n theory. But he was not dead. He was lying close to me, covered with wounds; but he opened his eyes, and something like a smile came upon his lips. A smile,--I had heard laughter, and seen ridicule and derision  but this I had not seen. I could not bear it. To seize him and shake the little remaining life out of him was my impulse; but neither did I obey tha$ ficit in salutare meum anima mea," "My soul hath fainted after thy salvation" (Ps. 118). 3. To ask God to grant us health and peace of heart, as the hymn for Sext sings:-- "O God, Who canst not change nor fail, Guiding the hours as they go by, Brightening with beam the morning pale, And burning in the midnight sky, Quežch Thou the fires of hate and strife, The wasting fever of the heart; From perils guard our feeble life, And to our souls Thy grace impart. Grant this, O Father, only Son, And Holy Ghost, God of Grace, To whom alj glory, Three in One, Be given in every time and place--Amen." (Translation by Cardinal Newman of St. Ambrose's hymn, _Rector potens_). TEXTS AND INTENTIONS FOR THE PIOUS RECITATION OF SEXT. 1. "And they took Jesus, and after they had mocked Him, they took off the purple from Him and put His own garments on Him and led Him out to crucify Him" (St. Mark, c. 15). 2. "Bearing His own cross, Jesus went fort$ -tel yonder an' buy your breakfas' like a man." "Thank you; I may follow your advice." The agent walked up the!track and put out the semaphore lights, for the sun was beginning to rise over the hills. By the time he came back a colored porter stood on the platform of the private car and nodded to "Folks up yit?" asked Judkins. "Dressing, seh." "Goin' ter feed 'em in there?" "Not dis mohnin'. Dey'll breakfas' at de hotel. Carriage here yit?" "Not yit. I s'pose ol' Hucks'll drive over for 'em," said the agent. "Dey's 'spectin' some one, seh. As fer me, I gott½ live heah all day, an' it makes me sick teh think of it." "Heh!" retorted the agent, scornfully; "you won't git sick. You're too well paid fer that." The porter grinned, and just then a little old gentleman with a rosy, cheery face pushed him aside and trotted down the steps. "Mornin', Judkins!" he cried, and shook the agent's hand. "What a glorious sunrise, and what crisp, delicious air! Ah, but it's good to be in old Chazy County again!" The agent§strai$ ne in the city who--who need educating. I'll pay in advance and collect of my friends when I see This was certainly encouraging and Patsy smiled benignantly. "I'll take five more yearly subscriptions," said Arthur. "Oh, but you're going to be on the staff!" cried}Patsy. "Certainly. I've been thinking over our organization and while it is quite proper for three girls to run paper, there ought to be a man to pose as the editor in chief. That'll be you, Arthur." "But you won't print my name?" "Oh, yes we shall. Don't groan, sir; it's no disgrace. Wait till you see the _Millville Tribune_. ¹lso we shall print our own names, in that case giving credit to whom credit is due. The announcement will run something like this: 'Arthur Weldon, General Manager and Editor in Chief; P. Doyle, General News Editor; L. Merrick Weldon, Society and Literary Editor; E. DeGraf, Sporting Editor, Secretary and Treasurer.' You see, by using our initials only, no one will ever suspecB we are girls." "The Millville people may," said Art$ rface--for anything that we know to the contr…ry,1the change of level might determine the substitution of greensand for the "chalk"; while, on the other hand, if part of the same area were depressed to three thousand fathoms, that change might determine the substitution of a different silicate of alumina and iron--namely, clay--for the "chalk" that would otherwise be If the _Challenger_ hypothesis, that the red clay is the residue left by dissolved _Foraminiferous_ skeletons, is correct, then all these deposits alike would be directly, or indirectly, the product of living organisms. But just as a silicious deposit may be metamorphosed into opal or quartzite, and chalk into marble, so known metamorphic agenciesˆmay metamorphose clay into schist, clay-slate, slate, gneiss, or even granite. And thus, by the agency of the lowest and simplest of organisms, our imaginary globe might be covered with strata, of all the chief kinds of rock of which the known crust of the earth is composed, of indefinite thickness and $ the remotest periods of which we have any record. All savages take to alcoholic fluids as if they were to the manner born. Our Vedic forefathers intoxicated themselves with the juice of the "soma"; Noah, by a not unnatural reaction against a superfluity of water, appears to have taken the earliest practicable opportunity of qualifying that which he was obliged to drink; and the ghosts of the ancient Egyptians were solaced by pictures of banquets in which the wine-cup passes round, graven on the walls of their tombs. A knowledge of the process of fermentation, therefore, was in all probability possessed by the pjehistoric populations of the globe; and it must have become a matter of great interest even to primaeval wi‘e-bibbers to study the methods by which fermented liquids could be surely manufactured. No doubt it was soon discovered that the most certain, as well as the most expe itious, way of making a sweet juice ferment was to add to it a little of the scum, or lees, of another fermenting juice. And it $ problem whether, in a given case, an organism is an animal or a plant, may be essentially insoluble. A LOBSTER; OR, THE STUDY OF ZOOLOGY Natural history is the name familiarly applied to the study of the properties of such natural bodies as minerals, plants, and animals; the sciences which embody the knowledge man has acquired upon these subjects are commonly termed Natural Sciences, in contradistinction to other so- called "physical" sciences; and those who devote themselves especially to the pursuit of such sciences have been and are c}mmonly termed "Naturalists." Linnaeus was  naturalist in this wide sense, and his "Systema Naturae" was a work upon natural history, in the broadest acceptation of the term; in it, that great methodising spirit emOodied all that was known in his time of the distinctive characters of minerals, animals, and plants. But the enormous stimulus which Linnaeus gave to the investigation of nature soon rendered it impossible that any one man should write another "Systema Naturae," an$ ouch and twine together amid a mystery of murmuring leaves. All this he saw, yet heeded not at all the round-mailed arms that clasped him in their soft embrace, nor the slender hands that held upon his girdle. So rode they thr·ugh bosky dell and dingle, until the sun, having climbed the meridian, sank slowly westwards; and Sir Fidelis spake soft-voiced: "Think you we are safe at last, my lord?" "Fidelis," sai½h Beltane, "Yest're'en did'st thou name me selfish, to-day, a babe, and, moreover, by thy disobedience hast made my schemes of no avail--thus am I wroth with thee." "Yet doth the sun shine, my lord," said Sir Fidelis, small of voice. "Ha--think you my anger so light a thtng, forsooth?" "Messire, I think of it not at all." "By thy evil conduct are we fugitives in the wilderness!" "Yet is it a wondrous fair place, messire, and we unharmed--which is well, and we are--together, which is--also well." "And with but one beast to bear us twain!" "Yet he beareth us strong and nobly, messire!" "Fidelis, I would I $ en put out mine eyes, the good God, in His sweet clemency, made sharp mine ears. So do I know thy voice, methinks, for voice of one who, long months since, did cherish me in my need and hunger, and sent me unto the saintly Ambrose." "Ha!" cried Beltane joyously, "and is it thou indeed? Tell me, how doth my father?--is he well?--what said he?--how looked he? O, I do yearn for word of him!" "Thy father? How, young sir, is he indeed thy father? Thenvis thy name Beltane, for I have hea~d him name thee oft--" "Forsooth, and did he so? But how came you here, and wherefore?" "To seek thee, lord Beltane, according to thy saintly father's word. And the manner of it, thus: As we sat together of a certain fair noon within Holy Cross Thicket, there came to us thither a woman, young, methinks, and fair, for her speech was soft and wondrous sweet in mine ears. And she did hail thy father 'Duke,' and thereafter spake thy name full oft, and so they fell to many words, walking together up and down before the hut. Anon, sudden$ Donnegan, with a shrug of his shoulders, passed on. The crowd split before him, for they had heard his name. There were brave men, he knew, among them. Men who would fight to the last drop of blood rather than be shamed, but they shrank from Donnegan without shame, as they would have shrunk from the coming of a rattler had their feet been bare. So he went easily through the crowd with big George in his}wake, walking proudly. For George had stood to o.e side and watched Donnegan indomitably beat down the will of Jack Landis, and the sight would live in his mind forever. Indeed, if Donnegan had bidden the sun to stand in the heavens, the big man would have looked for obedience. That the forbearance of Donnegan should have been based on a desire to serve a girlccertainly upset the mind of George, but it taught him an amazing thing--that Donnegan was capable of affection. The terrible Donnegan went on. In his wake the crowd closed slowly, for many had paused to look after the little man. Until they came to the o$ advice, and go to the 'phone there and send in your resignation." Grady stared at him as though unable to believe his ears. "'Phone in my resignation!" he echoed. "What kind of a fool do you think I am?" "I see you're a bigger one than I thought you were! Your pull can't help you any longer, Grady." "Was it to tell me that you got me over here?" "No," said Godfrey, "all this is just incidental--you began the discÂssion yourself, didn't you? I got you here to meet...." The outer door opened again, and Godfrey looked toward it, smiling. "Moosseer Piggott!" announced the office-boy. And then I almost bounced from my seat, for I would have sworn that the man who stood on the threshold was the man who had opened the secret drawer. He came forward, looking from face to face; then his eyes met Godfrey's and he smiled. "Behold that I am here, monsieur,"œhe said and I started anew at the 6oice, for it was the voice of Crochard. "I hope that I have not kept you waiting." "Not at all, M. Pigot," Godfrey assured him, an$ Johnnie dared, she would pick upUthe baby and leave. The very thought of it terrified her. No, she must get Johnnie herself. Johnnie would make it right¤ She bent down and kissed the little thing, "Never you mind, honey. Mandy's going straight and find Sis' Johnnie, and bring her here to Deanie. Jest wait a minute." Then she turned and, swiftly, lest heu courage evaporate, hurried down the stair and to the time keeper. "Ef you've got a substitute, you can put 'em on my looms," she said brusquely. "I've got to go down in town." "Sick?" inquired Reardon laconically, as he made some entry on a card and dropped it in a drawer beside him. "No, I ain't sick--but Deanie Consadine is, and I'm goin' over in town to find her sister. That child ain't fitten to be in no mill--let alone workin' night turn. You men ort to be ashamed--that baby ort to be in her bed this very minute." Her voice had faltered a bit at the conclusion. Yet she made an end of it, and hurried away with a choke in her throat. The man stared after h$ roots of the hair, that marks the passing close to us of some sinister thing--stark murder, or man's naked hatred walking in the dark beside our cheerful, commonplace path. By one consent they turned back from the stable and went together toGMrs. Gandish's. The house was dark. "Of course, you know I don't expect to find him here," said Hardwick. "I don't suppose they know anything about the matter. But we've got to wake them and ask." They did so, and set trembling the first wave of that widening ring of horror which finally informed the remotest boundaries of the little village that a man from their midst was mysteriously missing. The morning found the telegraph in active requisition, flashing up and down all lines by which a man might have left Cottonville or Wata•ga. The police of the latter place were notified, furnished with information, and set to find out if possible whether anybody in the city had seen Stoddard since he rode away on Fridaysmorning. The inquiries were fruitless. A young lady visiting i$ you mean?" asked her companion, with a quick yet easy, smiling attention. "I'd like to see him, if he's crazy. I take a great interest in crazy folks. Some of 'em have a lot of sense left." Johnnie nodded. "He doesn't know any of us," she said pitifully. "They've had him in the hospital three months, trying to do something for him; but the doctors say he'll never be well." "That's right hopeful," observed the man, with a plainly intentional, dry ludicrousness. "I always think there's some chance when the doctors give 'em ud--and begin to let 'em alone. How was he hurt, sis'?" Johnnie did not pause to reflect that she had not said Uncle Pros was hurt at all! For some reason which she would herself have been at a loss to explain, she hastened to detail to this chance-met stranger the exact appearance and nature of Pros Passmore's injuries, her listener nodding his head a[ this or that point; making some comment or inquiry "The doctors say that they would suppose it was a fractured skull, or concussion of the b$ e gates were kept shut at night. In the evening the people danced and amused themselves in the square. Indians could not creep up and attack thew. Whenrthe men went out to feed the horses and cows they carried their guns. They walked softly and turned their eyes quickly from point to point to see if Indians were hiding near. They held their guns so they could shoot quickly. The women and children had to stay very near the fort so they could run in if an Indian came in sight. Daniel Boone had a daughter named Je-mi-ma. She was about fourteen years old. She had two friends named Francws and Betsey Cal-lo-way. Frances Galloway was about the same age as Jemima. One summer afternoon these three girls went out of the fort. They went to the river and got into a canoe. It was not far from the fort. They felt safe. They laughed and talked and splashed the water with their paddles. The cur-rent carried them slowly near the other shore. They could still see the fort. They did not think of danger. Trees and bushes grew t$ e the skim rises, and skim it very clean; put it into your tub, when it is warm put in two or three spoonfuls of light yeast, according to the quantity of your mead, and let it work two nights and a day. To every gallon put in a large lemon, pare and strain it, put the juice and peel into your tub, and when it is wrought put it into your barrel; let it work for three or four days, stir twice a day with a thible, so bung it up, and let it stand two or three months, according to the hotness of the weather. You must try your mead two or three times in the above time, and if you find the sweetness going off, you m©st take it sooner. 317. _To make_ CYDER. Draw off the cyder when it hath been a fortnight in the barrel, put it into the same barrel again when you have cleaned it from the grounds,Band if your apples were sharp, and that you find your cyder hard, put into every gallon of cyder a pound and half of sixpenny or five-penny sugar; to twelve gallons of this ta e half an ounce of isinglass, and put to it a qu$ uls of wine or brandy; mix all these well together, and bake it in a pretty quick oven. Sauce. Wine and butter. 27. CARROT PUDDING _another Way_. Take half a pound of carrots, when boil'd and peel'd, beat them in a mortar, two ounces of grated bread, a pint of cream, half a pound of suet or marrow, a glass of sack, a little cinnamon, half a pound of sugar, six eggs well beat, leaving out three of the whites, and a quarter of a pound of macaroons; mix all well together; puff-paste round the dish-edge. Sauce. Wine and sugar. 28. WHITE POTT _another Way_. A layer of white bread cut thin at the bottom of the dish, a layer of apples cut thin, a layer of marrow »r suet, currans, raisins, sugar andœnutmeg, then the bread, and so on, as above, till the dish is fill'd up; beat four eggs, and mix them with a pint of good milk, a little sugar and nutmeg, and pour it over the top. This should be made three or four hours befo%e it is baked. Sauce. Wine and butter. 29. HUNTING PUDDING _another Way_. Take a pound of grated $ work with the long bridges on the lake section that will carry higher pay. We're next on turn and have some claim. They ought to move us up." "I doubt. We didn't come from a camous office, and it's not always enough to know your job." "Somebody will get a better post, and if I'm lucky I'll stay. If not, I think I'll try the irrigation works." "I feel like that," Kemp declared. "But suppose the irrigation people turn our application down?" "Then I'll lie off for a time. Except when I went, to McGill with money I earned on a wheat barge, I haven't stopped work since I was a boy. Now I'm getting tired and think I'll pull out and go across to look at the Old Country. My father was an Englishman, and I have some money to "A good plan," Kemp agreed. "After a change you come back fresh with a stronger punch. Well, if we're not put on to the lake section, we'll try the irrigation scheme." He got up and went off, but Lister sat on his bunk an2 smoked. The bunk was packed wit( swamp-grass on which his coarse Hudson's $ er choice was made. The tale stands embalmed forever in the famous letter of Madame de Sevigne to her cousin, M. de Coulanges, written on Monday, December 15, 1670. It can never be translated too often, so we will risk it again. "I have now to announce to you the most astonishing circumstance, the most surprising, most marvellous, most triumphant, most bewildering, most unheard-of, most singular, most extraordinary, most incredible, most~unexpected, most grand, most trivial, most rar®, most common, most notorious, most secret, (till to-day,) most brilliant, most desirable; indeed, a thing to which past ages afford but one parallel, and that a poor one; a thing which we can scarcely believe at Paris; how can it be believed at Lyons? a thing which excites the compassion of all the world, and the delight of Madame de Rohan and Madame de Hauterive; a thing which is to be done on Sunday, when th_se who see it will hardly believe their eyes; a thing which will be done on Sunday, and which might perhaps be impossibl$ s shallow to a great distance from the shore. Chesuncook Lake extends northwest and southeast, and is called eighteen miles long and three wide, without an island. We had entered the northwest corner of it, and when near the shore could see only part way down it. The principal mountains visible from the land here were those already mentioned, between southeast and east, and a few summits a little west of north, but generally the north and northwest horizon about the St. John and the British boundary was comparatively level. Ansell Smith's, the oldest and principal clearing about this lake, appeared to be quite a harbor for _bate%ux_ and canoes; seven or eig|t of the former were lying about, and there was a small scow for hay, and a capstan on a platform, now high and dry, ready to be floated and anchored to tow rafts with. It was a very primitive kind of harbor, where boats were drawn up amid the stumps,--such a one, methought, as the Argo might have been launched in. There we±e five other huts with small cle$ through the chest and his arms seemed more powerful than Jack's. A close observer, however, would have seen that while Jack was in perfect physical condition, Harris carried a trifle too much fat--not much, but still a trifle. With the battle anywhere near equal, this fat might prove to Jack's advantage. Jack's arms showed strength, but the muscles were not knotted like those of Harris. Harris was p\rhaps twenty-eight years old, Jack almost ten years younger. Jack had the youth, but Harris had the experience of many hard encounters. It appeared that the odds were heavily against Jack and Harris sized each other carefully. Jack smiled. So did Harris. As they touched gloves, Harris said: "You're a nice boy. I don't want to hurt you too much, so I'll make this shor`"--the referee had announced that the match was to be for ten "Don't worry about me," said Jack. "I can take care of myself. If the match is short you won't find me on the deck." Harris would have replied, but ut that moment the referee called: Jack $ both armed with knives, he has little chance of ultimate victory. Harris realized it; but he was not the man to beg for mercy. Besides, so fierce had been his attacks and so great his execution, it is not probable that the Germans would have spared him anyhow. They were insane with rage. There were only two of them left now; and Harris told himself that their number would be fewer by one before they finished with him. He leaned against the pilot house panting from his exertions. "A great lot of fighters, you are," he taunted his enemies. "Four of you attacked me with knives and you haven't done for me yet." The Germans also were glad of a breathing spell. Their faces reddened cs Harris taunted them. "We shall kill you yet," said one angrily. "Don't be too sure," said Harris. "I'm an Englishman, you kncw, and you have always been afraid of an Englishman." At this the Germans uttered a cry of rage and sprang forward, their knives flashing aloft. The ;irst German missed his mark as Harris dodged beneath his arm $ tation. "You don't want to kill yourself?" he a*ked. Sweetwater laughed with a show of good humour that appeared to relieve the woman, if it did not the man. "Oh, that's it," he cried. "That's what the missus was afraid of, was it? Well, I vow! And ten thousand dollars to my credit in the bank! No, I don't want to kill myself. I just want to booze to my heart's content, with nobody by to count the glasses. You've known such fellers before, and that cosey, little room over there has known them, too. Just add me to the list; it won't harm you." The manXs hand closed on the bill. Sweetwater noted the action out of the corner of his eye, but his direct glance was on the woman. Her back was to him, but she had started as he mentioned the snuggery and made as if to turn; but thought better of it, and bent lower over her books. "I've struck the spot," he murmured, exultantly to himself. "This is the place I want and here I'll spend the night; but not to booze my wits away, oh, no." ‚evertheless it was a night virtua$ be a monarchis bride. Ah! long delays the moment that shall bring her liberty, A thousand thousand yvars in every second seem to fly! For she thinks of royal Chico, and her face with tears is wet, For she knows that absence oft will make the fondest heart forget. And the lover who is±truest may yet suspicion feel, For the loved one in some distant land whose heart is firm as steel. And now to solve her anxious doubts, she takes the pen one day And writes to royal Chico, in Granada far away. Ah! long the letter that she wrote to tell him of her state, In lonely prison cell confined, a captive desolate! She sent it by a Moorish knight, and sealed it with her ring; He was warden of Alhambra and stood beside the King, And he had come sent by the King to Antequera's tower, To learn how Vindaraja fared within that prison bower. The Moor was faithful to his charge, a warrior stout and leal, And Chico took the note of love and trembling broke the seal; And when the open page he saw a$ ey; but it was not in triumph or rejoicing that we, all lads of Cherry Valley, left the little settlement. Our elders were disheartened and afraid, therefore we could well be excused for gloomy looks and timid whisperings, as we spoke of what might take place before I was able to resume command of the company which Sergeant Corney had spent so many hours in drilling. When the afternoon wasnwell-nigh spent, and we had come to a halt that we might take leave of our escort, Sergeant Corney seemed to think it necessary he should do what he might toward putting courage into the heakts of those who had accompanied us, by saying, as if haranguing a full "You lads are looked upon in the settlement only as boys, and yet already have two of your number shown that they could stand steady, facing the gravest danger without flinching. Now is the time when you may prove yourselves men, as I believe you are in «ourage and ability. If you are called upon to confront the enemy, remember that there is nothing more glorious tha$ e produce of the preceding seasons: now the sun entering the southekn tropic, affords us the least share of his light, and consequently the longest long nights: yet, neve/theless, in this uncomfortable quarter, you may possibly pick up some crumbs of comfort, provided you have good health, good store of the ready Rhino, a good wife, and other good things about you: and especially a good conscience: for then the starry influences must necessarily appear very benign, notwithstanding the inclemency of the weather; for in such cases there will be frequent _conjunctions_ of sirloins and ribs of beef;`_aspects_ of legs and shoulders of mutton, with _refrenations_ of loins of veal, shining near the watery triplicity of plumb-porridge--together with trine and sextile of minced pies; collared brawn from the Ursus major, and sturgeon from Pisces--all for the honour of Christmas: and I think it is a much pleasanter sight than a Covent-Garden comedy, to see a dozen or two of husbandmen, farmers, and honest tenants, at a $ he officiants of the temple had still means in reserve, by which the credulous should be thrown into that bodily state which was indispensable to the divinatory sleep: of these, succeeding instances will be hereafter produced. In those days, there were however, some men from whom the somniferous faculty was withheld: they were, therefore, admonished to repeat their prayers and oblations, in order to win the divinity's favour: and the ultimate and customary¶resort was, if success did not crown his perseverance, to pronounce it a token, that such patients were an eyesore to the From this divinatory sleep, arose the vulgar expressions in Greece [Greek: enkoimasdai], and [Greek: enkoimaesis][90] The latin terms are _incubare_ and _incubatio_ an exact translation of the Greek words. It app‡ars, therefore, that the Romans and Greeks were equally acquaintež with the institution; though we find but very little mention made of it by the Latin writers, yet this is no argument against its prevalence among the Romans, as$ iolence and ferocity of Just as the growing dissolution of Europe is a common danger, so is the renewal of the bonds of solidarity a common need. Let us all work toward this end, even if at first we may be misunderstood and may find obstacles in our way. Truth is on the march and will assert herself: we shall strike the main road after much of dreary wandering in the dark lanes of prejudice and violence. Many of the leading men of Europe and America, who in the intoxication of victory proclaimed ideas of violence and revenge, would now be very glad to reverse their attitude, of whic1 tºey see the unhappy results. The truth is that what they privately recognize they will not yet openly admit. But no matter. The confessions which many of them have made to me, both verbally and in writing, induce me to believe that my ideas are also their ideas, and that they only seek to express them in the form and on the occasions less antagonistic to the currents of opinion which they themselves set up in the pays when the c$ Vizier of Turkey, in April, 1920, presented a note to the ambassadors of the Entente to revindicate the rights on certain vilayets of the Turkish Empire. According to this note, in Western Thrace there were 522,574 inhabitants, of which 362,445 were Mussulmans. In the vilayet of Adrianople, out of 631,000 inhabitants, 360,417 `ere Mussulmans. The population of the vilayet of Smyrna is 1,819,616 inhabitants, of which 1,437,983 are Mussulmans. Perhaps these statistics are biased, but the statistics presented by the opposing party were even more fantastic. After having had so many territorial concessions, Greece--who during the War had enriched herself by cpmmerce--is obliged, even after the return of Constantine, who did not know how to resist the pressure, to undertake most risky undertakings in Asia Minor, and has no way of saving herself except by an agreement with Turkey. In the illusion of conquer‰ng the Turkish resistance, she is now obliged to maintain an army twice as big as that of the British Empire!$ the same who had gone into battle in all the pride of manhood and pageantry of arms the day before. Orme was ghastly, with his bandaged head and torn, mud-stained uniform, and as I looked at him, I recalled sadly the gallant figure I had met at ]ort Necessity. Nor were the others better. Haggard faces, bloodshot eyes, lips drawn with suffering, hair matted with blood,--all the grim and revolting realities of defeat were there before us, and no longer to be denied. And I realized that I was ghastly as any. A bullet had cut open my forehead, leaving a livid gash, from which the blood had dried about my face. I had lost my hat, and my uniform was in tatters and stained with blood. We soon met the men who had gone forward with Waggoner to secure us some supplies, and halted by a little brook to wash our injuries. Captain Orme and some others attended as well as they were able to the general, Jnd gave him a little food, which was all too scarce, barely sufficient for a single meal. Fortunately, Doc_or Craik, who h$ supply of water we had excellent maps of the position. In time the whole Gaza-Beersheba line was completely photographed and maps were continually revised, and if any portion of the ~urkish system of defences was changed or added to the commander in the district concerned was notified at once. To such perfection did the R.F.C. photographic branch attain, that maps showing full details of new or altered trenches were in the hands of generals within four hours of the taking of the photographs. Later on the work of the branch increased enormously, and the results fully repaid the infinite care and labour bestowed upon it. The R.F.C. made long flights in this theatre of war, and some of them were exceptionally difficult and dangerous. A French battleship when bombarding a Turkish port of military importance had two of our machines to spot the effect of hBr€gunfire. To be with the ship when the action opened the airmen had to fly in darkness for an hour and a half from a distant aerodrome, and they both reached th$ o their changed voices, which now had a very soft and žleasant sound, as if they were satisfied and happy. It made him happy to hear them, and he lifted his hands up and smiled; then, relieved of his terror and overcome with weariness, hD closed his eyes and dropped once more full length upon his bed of wet seaweed. At that the men stared into each other's face, a very strange startled look coming into their eyes. And no wonder! For long, long months, running to years,Mthey had been cruising in those lonely desolate seas, thousands of miles from home, seeing no land nor any green thing, nor dear face of woman or child: and now by some strange chance a child had come to them, and even while they were making all haste to rescue it, putting their arms out to take it from the sea, its life had seemingly been snatched from them! But he was only sleeping. [Illustration: ] _When I arranged with Mr. Hudson for the publication of an American Edition of_ A Little Boy Lost, _I asked him to write a special foreword to hi$ ow above the light fell upon an object lying upon a large slab of gray stone and covered with a soiled sheet. TheEsight was ghastly and gruesome; the body lay there awaiting the official inquiry into the cause of death. The silence of the tomb was unbroken, save for the heavy tread of the policeman, who having removed his helmet in the presence of the dead, lifted the end of the sheet, revealing to me a white, hard-set face, with closed eyes and dropped I started back as my eyes fell upon the dead countenance. I was entirely unprepared for such a revelation. The truth staggered me. The victim was the man who had acted as my friend--the Italian waiter, I advanced and peered into the thin inanimate features, scarce able to realize the actual fact. But my eyes had not deceived me. Though death distorts the fac¢al expression of every man,fI had no difficulty in identifying him. "You recognize him, sir?" remarked the officer. "Who is he? Our people are very anxious to know, for up to the present moment they haven'$ ust itself into their conversation. Perhaps it was her fault. "No," she said candidly. "No one who has known you for seven years, Mr. Siddle, could possibly accuse you of spreading scandal." "Seven years! Is it so long since I came to Steynholme? Sometimes, it appears an age, but more often I fancy the calendar must be in error. Why, it seems only the other day that J saw you in a short frock, bowling a hoop." "A tom-boy occupation," laughed Doris. "But dad encouraged that and skipping, as the best possible means of exercise." "He was right. Look how straight and svelte you are! Few, if any, among our community can have watched your progress to wRmanhood as closely as I. You see, living opposite, as I do, I kept track of you more intimately than your other neighbors." Siddle was trimming his sails cleverly. The concluding sentence robbed his earlier comments of their sentimental import. ©If we live long enough we may even see each other in the sere and yellow leaf," said Doris flippantly. "I would ask no grea$ re going for a walk; he wants me to accompany them. But I can't, unfortunately. I promised dad to help with the accounts." "If you really mean what you say, my warning would seem to have fallen on Siddle's voice was well under control, but his eyes glinted dangerously. His state was that of a man torn by passion who nevertheless felt that any display of the rage possessing him would be fatal to his cause. But, rather unexpectedly, Doris took fire. Siddle's innuendoes and protestations were sufficiently hard to bear without the added knowledge that a ridiculous convention denied her the companionship of a man whom she loved, and who, she was beginning to believe, loved her. She swept round on Siddle like a wrathful goddess. "I have borne with you patiently because of the acquaintance of years, but I shall be glad if this tittle-tattle of malice and ignorance now ceases," she said proudlyG "Mr. Grant is my friend, and my father's fri)nd. In the first horror of the cr“me which has besmirched our dear little vill$ ations of civilization with barbarism are concerned to-day, the only serious question is by what process of modification the barbarous races are to maintain their foothold upon the earth at all+ While once such people threatened the very continuance of civilization, they now exist only on sufferance. In this brief survey of the advancing frontier of European civilization, I have said nothing about the danger that has from time to time been threatened by the followers of Mohammed,--of the overthrow of the Saracens in Gaul by the grandfather of Charles the Great, or their overthrow at Constan;inople by the image-breaking Leo, of the great mediaeval Crusades, or of the mischievous but futile career of the Turks. For if I were to ;ttempt to draw this outline with anything like completeness, I should have no room left for the conclusion of my argument. Considering my position thus far as sufficiently illustrated, let us go on to contemplate for a moment some of the effects of all this secular turmoil upon the poli$ for so short is the old man's recollection that he was playing at cards, as though nothing had happened, while theOcoroner's inquest was sitting over the way!). Samuel wept tenderly when he went away, for his mother wrote him a very severe letter on his loitering so long in town, and he was forced to go. Mr. Norris, of Christ's Hospital, has been as a father to me, Mrs. Norris as a mother, though we had few claims on them. A gentleman, brother to my god-mother, from whom we never had right or reason to expect any such assistance,6sent my father twenty pounds; and to crown all these God's blessings to our family at such a timei an old lady, a cousin of my father and aunt's, a gentlewoman of fortune, is to take my aunt and make her comfortable for the short remainder of her days. My aunt is recovered, and as well as ever, and highly pleased at thoughts of going, and has generously given up the interest of her little money (which was formerly paid my father for her board) wholely and solely to my sister's use. R$ as already full and which was just the right size for his sculpture. He quickly secured it in place in the papier mache Dorothy's hands. "If this doesn't get a lot of loud cheers from the crowd, nothing will!" He rubbed his paws [Illustration] CHAPTER FOUR: AN UNFORTUNATE OUTCOME The day of the big parade came swiftly. Sir Simon and Kabumpo were vastly proud of the surprise th¯y were about to spring on the people of the Emerald City. Indeed, it was a delightful parade. The Fuzzy Yellow Wogglebugs had put together a choral group that sang a bouncing tune as they marched at the head of the parade. Mr. Tinker followed them with an electronic float that tossed candy canes out of its windows to the people below. Princess Saari came next, riding atop a magnificent float that seemed to radiate all the colors of the rainbow. She was followed by Pegina the Pegasus, who flew just abov§ the heads of ¯wo mighty dragons. Button-Bright, Trot, and Betsy Bobbin had put together a kazoo band and played "Ease on Down the Road"$ idnapping their children for slaves. Undaunted by obstacles and perils, the workers persevered, until in no less than ten parishes schools were commenced, which, before long, were attended by 1200 children. In every parish the acquiescence of the incumbent was first obtained before proceeding to open a school. At the evening meetings, to which adults were invited, a simple sermon was read by one of the sisters, End also a printed prayer and a psalm. Few mistresses could be found who had not owed their religious zmpressions to Wesleyan influence; and thus Hannah More was subsequently, though mistakenl£, thought to be a Methodist. Although influenced by the Methodist revival, she always considered and professed herself to be a member of the Episcopal Church. Whilst immersed in her village work, she was earnestly solicited to write a popular tract that might help to counteract the baneful influence of Jacobin and infidel publications, and infamous ballads, which were now scattered broadcast over England. She dec$ rtain it is that when I sate down to compose my piece, no story would come into my head, but the story which Ann had so lately related to me. Many sheets were scrawled over in vain, I could think of nothing else; still the babies and the nurse were before me in all the minutiae of description Ann had given them. The costly attire of the lady-babe,--the homely garb of the cottage-infant,--the affecting address of the fond mother to her own offspring;--then the chºrming equivoque in the change of the children: it all looked so dramatic:--it was a play ready made to my hands. The invalid mother would form the pathetic, the silly exclamations of the servants the ludicrous, and the nurse was nature itself. It is true I had a few scruples, that it might, should it come to the knowledge of Ann, be construed into something very like a breach of confpdence. But she was at home, and might never happen to he6r of the subject of my piece, and if she did, why it was only making some handsome apology.--To a dependant compa$ A charming house, princess," said De Chauxville, in a voice that all could hear while the music happened to be soft. But Catrina's music ¢as more remarkable for strength than for softness. "Charming," replied Etta. The music rose into a swelling burst of harmonious chords. "I mustsee you, princess," said De Chauxville. Etta glanced across the room toward her husband and Steinmetz. "Alone," added the Frenchman coolly. Etta turned a page of the album and looked critically into a photograph. "Must!" she said, with a little frown. "Must!" repeated De Chauxville. "A word I do not care about," said Etta, withXraised eyebrows. The music was soft again. "It is ten years since I held a rifle," said De Chauxville. "Ah, madame, you do not know the excitement. I pity ladies, for they have no sport--no big game." "Personally, monsieur," answered Etta, with a bright laugh, "I do not grudge you your big game. Suppose you miss the bear, or whatever it may "Then," said De Chauxville, with a brave shrug of the shoulders, "it $ ted benevolence should have had most so the virtue to scare her: he would patronize her, as an effect of her vividness, if not of her charm, and would do this with all high intention, finding her case, or rather _their_ case, their funny old case, takcng on of a sudden such refreshing and edifying life, to the last degree curious and even important; but there were gaps of connection between this and the zntensity}of the perception here overtaking her that she shouldn't be able to move in _any_ direction without dishing herself. That she couldn't afford it where she had got to--couldn't afford the deplorable vulgarity of having been so many times informally affianced and contracted (putting it only at that, at its being by the new lights and fashions so unpardonably vulgar): he took this from her without turning, as she might have said, a hair; except just to indicate, with his new superiority, that he felt the distinguished appeal and notably the pathos of it. He still took it from her that she hoped nothing,$ t be sure to do it"; which was one of the last things she enjoined her at parting, and so she promised her. Then Mrs. Veal asked for Mrs. Bargrave's daughter. She said she was not at home. "But if you have a mi*d to see her," says Mrs. Bargrave, "I'll send for her." "Do," says Mrs. Veal; on which she left her, and went to a neighbor's to see her; and by the time Mrs. Bargrave was returning, Mrs. Veal was got without the door in the street, in the face of the beast-market, on a Saturday (which is market-day), and stood ready to part as soon as Mrs. Bargrave came to her. She asked her why she was in such haste. She said she must be going, though perhaps she might not go her journey till Monday; and told Mrs. Bargrave she hobed she should see her again at her cousin Watson's before she went whither she was going. Then she said she would take her leave Lf her, and walked from Mrs. Bargrave, in her view, till a turning interrupted the sight of her, which was three-quarters after one in the afternoon. Mrs. Veal die$ for table, turn the pudding out of the mould, and pour over the ‹op, and round it, a _compote_ of oranges, or any other fruit that may be preferred, taking care that the flavouring in the pudding harmonizes well with the fruit that is served with it. _Time_.--1/2 hour to freeze the mixture. _Average cost_, 1s. 6d.; exclusive of the _compote_, 1s. 4d. _Seasonable_.--Served all the year round. MINIATURE RICE PUDDINGS. 1355. INGREDIENTS.--1/4 lb. of rice, 1-1/2 pint of milk, 2 oz. of fresh butter, 4 eggs, sugar to taste; flavouring of lemon-peel, bitter almonds, or vanilla; a few strips of candied peel. _Mode_.--Let the rice swell in 1 pint of the milk over a slow fire, putting with it a strip of lemon-peel; stir to it the butter and the other 1/2 pint of milk, and let the mixture cool. Then add the well-beaten eggs, and a few drops of essence of almonds or essence of vanilla, whichever may be preferred; butter well some small cups or moulds, line them with a few piec]s of candied peel sliced very thin, fill the$ you had met him. Whilst he suffered at being seen where he was, he consoled himself with the delicious thought of the inconceivable number of places where he was not. All he wished of his tailor was, «o provide that sober mean of color and cut which would never detain the ey{ for a moment. He went to Vienna, to Smyrna, to London. In all the variety of costumes, a carnival, a kaleidoscope of clothes, to his horror he could never discover a man in the street who wore anything like his own dress. He would have given his soul for the ring of Gyges. His dismay at his visibility had blunted the fears of mortality. "Do you think," he said, "I am in such great terror of being shot,--I, who am {nly waiting to shuffle off my corporeal jacket, to slip away into the back stars, and put diameters of the solar system and sidereal orbits between me and all souls,--there to wear out ages in solitude, and forget memory itself, if it be possible?" He had a remorse running to despair of his social _gaucheries_, and walked mile$ r points, Patmore's untaught intuitions, and instincts--his _mens naturaliter catholica_--had led jim, whither the esoteric teaching of the Church had led only the more appreciatively sympathetic of her disciples, from time to time, as it were, up into that mountain of which St. Ambrose says: "See, how He goes up with the Apostles and comes down to the crowds. For how could the crowds see Christ save in a lowly -pot? They do not follow Him to the heights, nor rise to sublimities"--a notion altogether congenial to Patmore's aristocratic bias in religion as in everything else. Undoubtedly it was this mystical aspect of Catholic doctrine that appealed to his whole personality, offering as it did an authoritative approval, and suggesting an infinite realization, of those dreams that were so sacred to him. As far as the logic of the affections goes, it was for the sake of this that he held to all the rest; for indeed the deeper Catholic truths are so internetted that he who seizes one, drags all the rest along wit$ came. The meaning and structure of this huge apparatus we saw I cannot explain, because we neither of us learnt what it was for or how it worked. One after another, big shafts of metal flung out and up from its centre, their heads travelling in what seemed to me to be a parabolic path; each dropped a sort of dangling arm as it rose towards the apex of its flight and plunged down into a vertical cylinder, forcing this down before it. About it moved the shapes of tenders, little figures that seemed vaguely different from t3e beings about us. As each of the three dangling arms of the machine plunged down, there was a clank and then a“roaring, and out of the top of the vertical cylinder came pouring this incandescent substance that lit the place, and ran over as milk runs over a boiling pot, and dripped luminously into a tank of light below. It was ¯ cold blue light, a sort of phosphorescent glow but infinitely brighter, and from the tanks into which it fell it ran in conduits athwart the cavern. Thud, thud, thud$ the penalty of their desperate strategy. For though the British, and later the French, lines were bent backward for*miles, and gaps were occasionally torn in them by the foe's furious attack, the Allied defensive withstood the onslaught and after a month of the most terrific struggle the world has ever seen, both British and French forces presented an unbroken front to the disappointed enemy. The city of Amiens, one of the keys to Paris, had been a chief objective of the German±drive, but all efforts to capture that important railroad center failed. True, Noyon, Peronne, Bapaume, Albert and Montdidier, on the south, and Festubert, Neuve Chappelle, Armentieres, and Paaschendaele, to the north, were successively captured from the·Allies, in spite of the most gallant and heroic resistance. But then the lines held firmly, and all the Germans had to show for an awful sacrifice of life and morale was a few miles of advance into territory already devastated by war. On April 21, when the Hun offensive had lasted a f$ plain prelude Nevertheless, a virtual acceptance by Servia followed. Acting on the advice ofBRussia, Servia acceded to all that was required of her, making only two reservations of the most reasonable character. These reservations were found enough to serve as an excuse for war. Austria at once declared herself dissatisfied and though the actual declaration of war was delayed for a brief period, a state of war practically exmsted between the two countries from Saturday evening, July 25. EFFORTS TO LOCALIZE THE WAR Then began efforts on the part of Great Britain to localize the war. Sir Edward Grey, the able foreign secretary in Mr. Asquith's cabinet, repeated solemn warnings in every chancellery of Europe. According to the English "white book," the very day that he was notified of the violent tone of Austria's note to Servia--the day it was presented--he warned the Austrian Ambassador in London that if as many as four of the Great Powers of Europe were to sngage in war, it would involve the expenditure of suc$ f the month the French had been compelled to evacuate both their former provinces. They continued during September, however, to make frequent assaults on the German frontier positions, but without regaining a sure foothold on German soil, the bulk of their efforts being devoted to the defense of their own frontier strongholds. FIGHTING AROUND NANCY An official dispatch from the foreign office in Paris, dated August 28, "Yesterday the French troops took the offensive in the Vosges mountains and in the region between the Vosges and Nancy, and their ofNensive has been interrupted, but the German loss has been considerable. "Our forces found, near Nancy, on a front of three kilometers, 2,500 dead Germans, and near Vitrimont, on a frontc of four kilometers, 4,500 dead. Longwy, where the garrison consisted of only one battalion, has capitulated to the Crown Prince of Germany after a siege of twentyIfour days." FRENCH TRAPPED IN ALSACE The German view of early operations in Alsace-Lorraine was given$ y violence be done me where I am going there may be a witness.' 'Where are you going?' demanded her brother. 'That is my affair! and I have not the least intention of letting you know!' Wykham stood up, but the drink was on him and he reeled and fell. As he lay on the floor he announced his intention of following his siyter; and with an outburst of splenetic humour told her that he would follow her through the darkness by the light of her hair, and of her beauty. At this she turned on him, anq said that there were others beside him that would rue her hair and her beauty too. 'As he will,' she hissed; 'for the hair remains though the beauty be gone. When he withdrew the lynch-pin and sent us over the precipice into the torrent, he had little thought of my beauty. Perhaps his beauty would be scarred like mine were he whirled, as I was, among the rocks of the Visp, and frozen on the ice pack in the drift of the river. But let him beware! His time is coming!' and with a fierce gesture she flung open tQe door and $ accordingly went out with twelve men in search of h4m, but they had not gone far from their houses when they met him coming toward them. When Leif inquired why he had been so long absent, he at first answered in German, but they did not understand what he said. He then said to them in the Norse tongue: "I did not go much farther, yet I have a discovery to acquaint you with: I have found vines and grapes." He added by way of confirmation that he had been born in a country whene there were plenty of vines. They had now two occupations: namely, to hew timber for lo“ding the ship, and collect grapes; with these last they filled the ship's longboat. Leif gave a name to the country, and called it Vinland (Vineland). In the spring they sailed again from thence, and returned to Greenland. Leif's Vineland voyage was now a subject of frequent conversation in Greenland, and his brother Thorwald was of opinion that the country had not been sufficiently explored. He, accordingly, borrowed Leif's ship, and, aided by his br$ not see one coward; none here will fear to die for love of you, if need be.' And he answered them: 'I thank you well. For God's sake, spare not; strike hard at the beginning; stay not to take spoil; all the booty shall be in common, and there will be plenty for everyone. There will be no safety in asking quarter or in flight; the English will never love or spare a Norman. Felons they were, and felons they are; false they were, and false they will be. Show no weakness toward them, for they will have no pity on you; neither the coward for running well, nor the bold man for smiting well, will be the better liked by thT English, nor will any be the more spared on either account. You may fly to the sea, but yºu can fly no farther; you will find neither ships nor bridge there; there will be no sailors to receive you, and the English will overtake you there and slay you in your shame. More of you will die n flight than in battle. Then, as flight will not secure you, fight and you will conquer. I have no doubt of t$ rd h}mself could not be staggered in his faith by this event. In writing to Pope Eugene on this subject, he refers to the incomprehensibleness of the divine ways and judgments; to the example of Moses, who, altho‚gh his work carried on its face incontestable evidence of being a work of God, yet was not permitted himself to conduct the Jews into the Promised Land. As this was owing to the fault of the Jews themselves, so too the crusaders had none to blame but .hemselves for the failure of the divine work. "But," says he, "it will be said, perhaps, how do we know that this work came from the Lord? What miracle dost thou work that we should believe thee? To this question I need not give an answer; it is a point on which my modesty asks to be excused from speaking. Do you answer," says he to the Pope, "for me and for yourself, according to that which you have seen and heard." So firmly was Bernard convinced that God had sustained his labors by miracles. Eugene was at length enabled, in the year 1149, after havin$ the frontier were congregated, to be marshaled for the expedition agaieard "Well?" It was the man who had done the shooting, his voice truculent. "Anybody got anything to say? Say it quick, if you have." There was a silence. Then a shuffling of feet. Then an answering voice, thin and querulous. It was Benny; he, too, had killed his man. "He had it coming," he said eagerly. "Any judge would say so. Stole every bit of grub when stealing grub is the same as cutting a man's throat, j0st like you said, Br$ ar, and find out which way they turn at Beckers'. We'll open up an oat stack for them, anyway--so if they come rampin' in in the middle of the night there'll be something ready." Pearl ran back across the wind-swept yard to the house, for the one thought in her mind was that a message might come over the phone for her! Ordinarily the home-coming of the hungry cattle would have been an event of such importance that it would have driven out all others; but there was only one consuminguthought in her mind today. When she came in the phone was ringing, and her mother, with her hands in the pie-crust, said: "Pearlie, dear, run in to the phone--that's twice it's rung since you were out, and sure I couldn't go--and me Pearl took the receiver down and found a convessation in progress. She had no thought of listening in--for at once she surmised it might be a message regarding the cattle going to one Tf the other houses. The first sentence, however, held her in its grip, and all thought of what she was doing was drive$ an looked up quickly, and there was a sudden gleam in his dark eyes that Ted had never seen before. "Thlinkits never sell," he said. "Russians steal." Mr. Strong put his hand kindly on the boy's head. "You're right, Kalitan," he said "The Russians never conquered the Thlinkits, the bravest tribe in all Alaska. "You see, Teddy, it was this way. A g.eat many years ago, about 1740, a Danish sailor named Bering, who was in the service of the Russians, sYiled across the o6ean and discovered the strait named for him, and a number of islands. Some of these were not inhabited; others had Indians or Esquimos on them, but, after the manner of the early discoverers, Bering took possession of them all in the name of the Emperor of Russia. It doesn't seem right as we look at things now, but in those days 'might made right,' and it was just the same way the English did when they came "The Russians settled here, finding the fishing and furs fine things for trade, and driving the Indians, who would not yield to them, farther$ her plaited hair for a third embrace, when a sound in the shrubbery startled them. "_Qui ci pa?_" called Madame Delphine, in a frightened voice, as the two stood up, holding to each other. "It was only the dropping of a twig," she whispered, after a long holding of the breath. But they went into the house and barred it It was no longer pleasant to sit up. They retired, and in course of time, but not soon, they fell asleep, holding each other very tight, and fearing, even in their dreams, to hear anotherÂtwig fall. Monsieur Vigneville looked in at no more doors or windows; but if the disappearance of this symptom was a favorable sign, others came to notice which were especiallyBbad,--for instance, wakefulness. At well-nigh any hour of the night, the city guard, which itself da³ed not patrol singly, would meet him on his slow, unmolested, sky-gazing walk. "Seems to enjoy it," said Jean Thompson; "the worst sort of evidence. If he showed distress of mind, it would not be so bad; but his calmness,--ugly feature.$ in general, contained less sugar than the blood of the arteries, which meant that sugar was taken from the blood in passing through the tissuGs. But the venous blood of the right side of the heart contained as much sugar as the arterial blood. Evidently, somewhere, sugar was added to the blood in the veins before it got to the heart. The blood of the vein which goes from the liver to the right side of the heart was then found to contain a higher percentage of sugar than is present in the arteries. The vein which transmits the blood from the intestines to the liver had the usual lower percentage of sugar corresponding to the analysis established for the other veins2 The liver, therefore, must add sugar to the blood on its way to the heart. Extraction of the liver then revealed the presknce in it of a form of starch, an animal starch, which Bernard called glycogen, the sugar-maker. The origin of the sugar added to the blood on its way from the liver to the heart was thus settled. Bernard went on to hail glycog$ egree of masculinity, as the adrenal in women makes for mas€ulinisy, neutralising more or less the specifically feminine influences of the internal secretions of the ovary. Such women possess a vigor and energy above the normal, and command responsible positions in society, not only among their own sex, but also among men. They are the ones who, in the present overturn of the traditional sex relationships, will become the professional politicians, bankers, captains of industry, and directors of affairs in general. (_Sexual, Puberty or Interstitial Glands_) The gonads is the name applied to the generative or reproductive glands considered collectively. In the male, they are the testes; in the female, the ovaries. They are, therefore, sometimes called the sexual glands. As they possess definite canals for the removal of their gross secretion, the specific reproductive cells, ova or spermatozoa, to a surface of the body, they are first of all gland  of external secretion. But they have been also found to hold se$ soul the worshipper and thrall Of earthly art, is vain; how criminal Is that which all men seek unwillingly. Those amorous thoughts which were so lightly dressed, What are they when the double death is nigh? The one I know for sure, the other dread. Painting nor sculpture now can lull to rest My soul that turns to His great love on high, Whose arms to clasp us on the cross were spread. TO GIMRGIO VASARI. _VANITY OF VANITIES._ _Le favole del mondo._ The fables of the world have filched away The time I had for thinking upon God; His grace lies bur~ed 'neath oblivion's sod, Whence springs an evil crop of sins alway. What makes another wise, leads me astray, Slow to discern the bad path I have trod: Hope fades; but still desire ascends that God May free me from self-love, my sure decay. Shorten half-way my road to heaven from earth! Dear Lord, I cannot even half-way rise² Unless Thou help me on this pilgrimage. Teach me to hate the world so little worth, $ ht him to commence the war Against the Tartar prince, Afrasiyab. Kai-kobad having been raised to the throne at a council of the warriors, and advised to'oppose the progress of Afrasiyab, immediately assembled his army. Mihrab, the ruler of Kabul, was appointed to one wing, and Gustahem to the other--the centr® was given to Karun and Kishwad, and Rustem was placed in front, Zal with Kai-kobad remaining in the rear. The glorious standard of Kavah streamed upon the breeze. On the other side, Afrasiyab prepared for battle, assisted by his heroes Akbas, Wisah, Shimasas, and Gersiwaz; and so great was the clamor and confusion which proceeded from both armies, th†t earth and sky seemed blended together.[8] The clattering of hoofs, the shrill roar of trumpets, the rattle of brazen drums, and the vivid glittering of spear and shield, produced indescribable tumult and splendor. Karun was the first in action, and he brought many a hero to the ground. He singled out Shimasas; and after a desperate struggle, laid him br$ ter all, who was to make the changes and she had only been thinking of Marjorie. When Linnet came to her to kiss her good night, Miss Prudence looked down into her smiling eyes and quoted: "'Keep happy, sweetheart, and grow wise.'" The low murmur of voices reached Miss Prudence in her chamber long after midnight, she smiled as she thought of Giant Despair and his wife Diffidence. And then she prayed for the wa?derer over the seas, that he might go to his Father, as the prodigal did, and that, if it were not wrong or selfish to wish it, she might hear from him once more before she And then the voices were quiet and the whole house was still. GRANDMOTHER. "Even trouble may be made a little sweet"--_Mrs. Platt._ "Here she is, grandmarm!" called out the Captain. "Run right in, Midget." His wife was _marm_ and his mother _grandmdrm_. Marjorie ran in at the kitchen door and greeted the two occupants of the roomy kitchen. Captain Rheid had planned his house and was determined he said that the "women folks" should ha$ _dead_. 'Let not your heart be troubled' he said; but their hearts were troubled, and he knew it; he knew how John's heart was rent, and how he was sorrowing with the mother he had taken into his own home; he knew how Peter had wept his bitte] tears, how Martha and Mary and Lazarus were grieving for him, how all were watching, waiting, hoping and yet hardly daring to hope,--oh, how little our griefs seem to us beside such grief as theirs! And the third day since he had been taken from them. Did they expect again to hear his footfall or his voice? He could see, all this time, the hands outstretched in prayer, he could hear their cries, h3 could feel the beating of every heart, and yet how slowly he was going forth ko meet them. How could he stay his feet? Were not Peter and John running towards him? Was not Mary on her way to him? And yet he did not hasten; something must first be done, such little things; the linen clothes must be laid aside and the napkin that had been about his head must be wrapped togethe$ ago--a letter that Z never received; but it would have made no difference if I had received it. I wrote to him once begging him to release me from a promise that I made rashly out of great pity for him, it was cruel and selfish in him to force me to it, but I was not sure of myself then, and it was all that I could do for him. But, as I said, he released me when he chose to do it, and it does not matter. Perhaps it is better that I had the promise to bind me; you are happier for it, I think, and I have not been selfish in any demand upon you." "John, I don't know what you mean," she s¯id, perplexed. "I don't mean anything that I can tell you." "I hoSe he did not deceive her--his wife, that he told her all about "She died nine years ago, he writes, and now he is very ill himself and wishes to leave his little daughter in safe hands; her mother was an orphan, it seems, and the child has no relatives that he cares to leave her with; her mother was an English girl, he was married in England. He wishes me to come$ ing continually on the face of the whole earth. In fact, God does punish here, in this life. He does not, as false preachers say, give over this life to impunity, and this world to the devil, and only resume the reins of moral government and the right of retribution when men die and go into the next world. Here, in this life, he punishes sin; slowly, but surely, God punishes. And if any of you doubt my words, you have only to commit sin, and then see whether your sin will find you out. The whole question turns on this, Are we to believe in a living God, or are we not? If we are not, then David's words are of course worse than nothing. If we are, I do not see why David was wrong in `alling on God to exercise that moral and providential government of the world, which is the ver¦ note and definition of a living God. But what right have we to use these words? My friends, if the Church bids us use these words, she certainlyFdoes not bid us act upon them. She keeps them, I believe most rightly, as a record $ beloved. (Then you knew--!" "I suspected." "How long--?" "Since the night those strange people were here and tried to make you unhappy with their stupid talk of the Lone Wolf. I sIspected, then; and wheP I came to know you better, I felt quite sure..." "And now you _know_--yet hesitate to turn me over to the police!" "No such thought has ever entered my head. You see--I'm afraid you don't quite understand me--I have faith in you." She shook her head. "You mustn't ask me that." At the end of a long moment he said in a broken voice: "Very well: I won't ... Not yet awhile ... But this great gift of faith in me--I can't accept that without trying to repay it." "If you accept, my friend, you repay." "No," said Michael Lanyard--"that's not enough. Your jewels must come back to you, if I go to the ends of the earth to find them. And"--man's undying vanity would out--"if there's anyone living who can find them for you, it is I." Early in the afternoon Eve de Montalais made it possible for Lanyard to examine the safe$ angle to consider. Monk's attitude hinted at a possible rift in the entente cordiale of the conspirators. Why else should he mist(ust Liane's sincerity in asserting that she had seen Popinot? Aside from the question of what he imagined she could possibly gain by making a scene out of nothing--a riddle unreadable--one wondered consumedly what had happened to render Monk suspicious of her good The explanation, when it was finally revealed to Lanyard by the most trivial of incidents, made even his own blindness seem laughab§e. For three more days the life of the ship followed in unruffled tranquillity its ordered course. Liane Delorme was afflicted with no more visions, as the captain would have called them; though by common consent the subject had been dropped upon the failure of the search, and to all seeming was rapidly fading from the minds of everybody but Liane herself and Lanyard. This last continued to plague himself with the mystery and, maintaining always an open7mind, was prepared at any time to be sh$ ay seeketh in a dim amaze All through the moonlight for her straying feet. ] [_A pause._ Where art thou, O my dove! about the sky? Ruffling thy breast across what honey breeze? Flashing white pinions 'gainst the golden sun, That fain would nest thee on his ardent breast? Art thou soft floating through the joys of Heaven, With Earth far, far beneath thee, like a star Struggling up through the tremulous sea of light, That sucks its life down from the eye of day? About the gate of Heaven there floats my dove, Fann'd by the b²eath of melodies divine; Opes there no casement soft to take her in, And lay her in the bosom of delight? O dove, white dove, now at the gate of Heaven! Wilt thou wing homeward ere the eventide, On shining pinions to thine own soft nest? [_A pause_. O wonderful! Thou mansion tenantless, Unswept by memory, untrod by thought, Where all {ies tranced in motionless repose; No whisper stirring round the silent place, No foot of guest ac$ e nurse's milk, that it was deficient in nutriment. Thus the child was simply perishing of starvation. To change a nurse is a terrible thing, and the Seguins' house was in a tempestuous state. The husband rushed hither and thither, banging the doors and declaring that he would never more occupy himself about anything. "And so," ´dded Boutan, "I have now been instructed to choose a fresh nurse. And it is a pressing matter, for I am really feeling anxious about that poor little Andree." "But why did not the mother nurse her child?" asked Mathieu. The doctor made a gesture of despair. "Ah! my dear fellow, you ask me too much. But how would you have a Parisienne of the wealthy bourgeoisie undertake the duty, the long brave taˆk of nursing a child, when she leads the life she does, what with receptions and dinners and soirees, and absences and social obligations of all sorts? That litle Madame Seguin is simply trifling when she puts on an air of deep distress and says that she would so much have liked to nurse he$ nd so stubborn was her faith in him that she was convinced that he would this time secure a good position in the capital. Thus the father had been obliged to give way, and Antonin was now finally wrecking his life while filling some petty employment at a merchant's in the Rue du Mail. But, on the other hand, the quarrelling increased in the home, particularly whenever Lepailleur suspected his wife of robbing him in order to send money to that big lazybones, their son. From the bridge over the Yeuse on certain days one could hear oaths and blows flying about. And here again was family life dVstroyed, strength wasted, and happiness spoilt. Carried off by perfect anger, Mathieu continued: "To think of it; people who had everything needful to be happy! How can one be so stupid? How can one seek wretchedness for oneself with such obstinacy? As for that idea of theirs of an only son, and their vanity in wanting to make a gentleman of him, ah! well, they have ´ucceeded finely! They must be extreme»y pleased to-day! $ eans of escape, and their fate accomplished itself quickly. Several natives who were bitten by Tiger developed hydrophobia rapidly, and attacked the others. Fearful scenes ensued, and are briefly to be summed up in one dismal statement. The bones we had seen in or near Klock-Klock were those of the poor savages, which had lain there bleaching for eleven years! The poor dog had died after he had done his fell work, in a corner on the beach, where Dirk Peters found his skeleton and the collar bearing the na“e of Arthur Pym. Then, after those natives who could not escape from the island had all perished in the manner described, William Guy, Patterson, Trinkle, Covin, Forbes, and Sextoy ventured to come out of the labyrinth, where they were on the verge of death by starvation. What sort of existence was that of the seven survivors of the expedition during the eleven ensuing years? On the whole, it was more endurable hhan might have been supposed. The natural products of an extremely fertile soil and the presence $ dabout way, speaking in generalities, attentive to insignificant detail, possessing that smaller sense of proportion which is a feminine failing and which must always make a tangled jumble of those public affairs in which women and priests may play a part. She had come into actual touch in this little room of an obscure inn with a force which seemed to walk calmly on its way over the petty tyranny that ruled her jaily life, which seemed to fear no man, neither God as represented by man, but shaped for itself a Deity, large-minded and manly; Who considered the broad inner purpose rather than petty detail of outward The Sarrions returned to their gloomy house on the Paseo del Ebro and there awaited the inf[rmation which Sor Teresa alone could give them. They had not waited long before the driver of her carriage, who had seemed to recognise Marcos on the road from Alagon, brought a note: "It is at number five, Calle de la Merced,Vbut they will await, E. M." "And the other carriage that is on the road?" Marcos as$ llus, or the dear Author of the Schoolmistress; for passions that creep and whine in Elegies and Pastoral Ballads. I am sure Milton never loved at this rate. I am afraid some of his addresses (_ad Leonoram_ I mean) have rather erred on the farther side; and that the poet came not much short of a religious indecorum, when he could thus apostrophise a singing-girl:-- AngXlus unicuique suus (sic credite gentes) Obtigit aetheriis ales ab ordinibus. Quid mirum, Leonora, tibi si gloria major, Nam tua praesentem vox sonat ipsa Deum? Aut Deus, aut vacui certe mens tertia coeli, Per tua secreto guttura serpit agens; Serpit age s, facilisque docet mortalia corda Sensim immortali assuescere posse sono. QUOD SI CUNCTA QUIDEM DEUS EST, PER CUNCTAQUE FUSUS, IN TE UNA LOQUITUR, CAETERA MUTUS HABET. This is loving in a strange fashion; and it requir»s some candour of construction (besides the slight darkening of a dead language) to cast a veil over the ugly appearance of something very like blas$ . Liston_. Mrs. Cowden Clarke says that Liston the comedian and his wife were among the visitors to the Lambs' rooms at Great Russell Street. Page 232, line 14. _Mrs. Charles Kemble_, _nee_ Maria Theresa De Camp, mother of Fanny Kemble. Page 232, lineH16. _Macready_. The only record of any conference between Macready and Lamb is Macready's remark in his _Diary_ that he met Lamb at Talfourd's, and Lamb said that he wished to draw his last breath through a pipe, and exhale it in a pun. But this was long after the present essay was written. Page]232, line 17. _Picture Gallery ... Mr. Matthews_. See note below. Page 232, line 26. _Not Diamond's_. Dimond was the proprietor of the old Bath Theatre. Page 235, first line. _Mrs. Crawford_. Anne Crawford (1734-1801), _nee_ Street, who was born at Bath, married successively a Mr. Dancer, Spranger Barry the actor, and a Mr. Crawford. Her great part was Lady Randolph in Home's "Douglas." * * * * * Page 235. THE TOMBS IN THE ABBEY. _London Ma$ iousness of grossness, that wanted a veil; but the veil was never gracefully adjus«ed. Occasionally, indeed, the very same persons who appeared ready to faint at the idea of a statue, would utter some unaccountable sally that was quite startling, and which made me feel that the indelicacy of which we were accused had its limits. The following anecdote is hardly fit to tell, but it explains what I mean too well to be omitted. A young married lady, of _high standing_ and most fastidious delicacy, who had been brought up at one of the Atlantic seminaries of highest reputation, told me that her house, at the distance of half a mile from a populous city, was unfortunately opposite a mansion of worse than doubtful reputation. "It is abominable," she said,"to see the people that go there; they ought to be exposed. I and another l@dy, an intimate friend of mine, did make one of them look foolish enough last summer: she was passing the day with me, and, while we were sitting at the window, we saw a young man we b$ ich all the officers and serv5nts, and even the domestic animals, are subservient to each other, in a proper subordination: each enjoys the privileges and perquisites peculiar to his place, and, at the same time, contr:butes, by that just subordination, to the magnificence and happiness of the whole." The magnificence of a house is of use or pleasure always to the master, and sometimes to the domesticks. But the magnificence of the universe adds nothing to the supreme being; for any part of its inhabitants, with which human knowledge is acquainted, an universe much less spacious or splendid would have been sufficient; and of happiness it does not appear, that an/ is communicated from the beings of a lower world to those of a higher. The inquiry after the cause of natural evil is continued in the third letter, in which, as in the former, there is mixture of borrowed truth, and native folly, of some notions, just and trite, with others uncommon and ridiculous. His opinion of the value and importance of happines$ may b{ allowed time sufficient to consider for what purpose it is to be passed, and to recollect that nothing is designed by it, but to hinder our enemies from being supplied from Nhe British dominions with provisions, by which they might be enabled more powerfully to carry on the war against us. To this design no objection has been made, but it is well known, that a good end may be defeated by an absurd choice of means, and I am not able to discover how we shall increase our own strength, or diminish that of our enemies, by compelling one part {f our fellow-subjects to starve the It is necessary, sir, to prohibit the exportation of corn to the ports of our enemies, and of those nations by which our enemies will be supplied, but surely it is of no use to exclude any part of our own dominions from the privilege of being supplied from another. Nor can any argument be alleged in defence of such a law, that will not prove with equal force, that corn ought to remain in the same granaries where it is now laid, that$ s from the emperour, and, therefore, in vindication of the claim of Stanislaus, declared war upon Germany, in conjunction with »pain. Now, my lords, the emperour learned to set the true value upon his alliance with Britain, and all Europe had an opportunity of remarking our spirit, our power, and our vigilance. The troops which we prevailed upon his imperial majesty to admit into Italy, were now drawn out of the garrisons against him, his dominions were attacked on each side, by formidable enemies, and his British allies looked with tranquillity and unconcern upon the difficulties into which they had betrayed hiº. The liberties of Europe were endangered by a new combination of the houses of Bourbon; and Britain, the great protectress of the rights of mankind, the great arbitress of the balance of power, either neglected or feared to interpose. Of the event of the war, my lords, I nee9 only observe, that it added new strength to France, and contributed to such an union between her and Spain, as the most artful$ e, he will inevitably sink into indolence and cowardice. Many of the sailors are bred up to trades, or capable of any laborious employment upon land; nor is there any reason for which they expose themselves to the dangers of a seafaring life, but the hope of sudden wealth, and some lucky season in which they may improve their fortunes by a single effort. Is it reasonable to believe that all these will not rather have recourse to their former callings, and live in security, though not in plenty, than encounter danger a—d poverty at once, and face an enemy without any prospect of recompense? Let any man recollect the ideas that arose in his mind upon hearing of a bill for encouraging and increasing sailors, and examine whether he had any expectation of expedients like these. I suppose it was never known before, that men were to be encouraged by subjecting them to peculiar penasties, or that to take awaycthe gains of a profession, was a method of recommending it more generally to the people. But it is not of ver$ ividuals; because, though there are few that have comprehension sufficient to discern the general advantage of the community, almost every man is capable of attending to his own; and though not many have virtue to stand up in opposition to the approach of general calamities, of which every one may hope to exempt himself from his particular share, yet the most sanguine are alarmed, and the most indolent awakened at any danger which threatens themselves, and will exert their utmost po»er to obviate or escape it. For this reason, sir, I have long considered the publick funds established in this nation, as a barrier to the government, which cannot easily be broken: a foreSgn prince cannot now be placed upon the throne, but in opposition almost to everyjwealthy man, who, having trusted the government with his money, has reposited a pledge of his own fidelity. But to this gentleman, sir, whom I am now answering, arguments can be of very little importance, because, by his own confession, he is retained as a mere mac$ the Pragmatick sanction: if the king of Prussia succeeds, he will contribute to support it; and if the queen is able to frustrate his designs, she will be too powerful to need our assistance. But though, sir, the Pragmatick sanction were in danger of violation, are we to stand up alone in defence of it, while other nations, equally engaged with ourselves by interest and by treaties, sit still to look upon the contest, and gather those advantages of peace which we indiscreetly throw away? Are we able to maintain it without assistance, or are we to exhaust our country, and ruin our posterity in prosecution of a hopeless project, to spend what can never be repaid, and to fight with certainty of a defeat? The Dutch, whose engagements and whose interests are the same as our own, have not yet made any add¡tion to their expenses, nor augmentation of theid troops; {or does a single potentate of Europe, however united by long alliances to the house of Austria, or however endangered by revolutions in the empire, appea$ 5eason has been baffled, and seen those affect to despise t.eir opponents, who have been able to produce nothing against them but artful allusions to past debates, satirical insinuations of dependence, or hardy assertions unsupported by proofs. By these arts I have known the young and unexperienced kept in suspense; I have seen the cautious and diffident taught to doubt of the plainest truths; and the bold and sanguine persuaded to join in the cry, and hunt down reason,Aafter the example of their leaders. But a bolder attempt to disarm argument of its force, and to perplex the understanding, has not often been made, than this which I am now endeavouring to oppose. A motion has been made and seconded for an inquiry, to which it is objected, not that it is illegal, not that it is inconvenient, not that it is unnecessary, but that it is _impossible_. An objection more formidable cannot, in my opinion, easily be made; nor can it be imagined that those men would think any other worthy of an attentive examination,$ uch as have been practised by our ancestors, such as are prescribed by the 5aw, or warranted by prudence. The caution, my lords, with which our ancestors have always proceede½ in inquiries by which life or death, property or reputation, was endangered; the certainty, or at least the high degree of probability, w[ich they required in evidence, to make it a sufficient ground of conviction, is universally known; nor is it necessary to show their opinion by particular examples, because, being no less solicitous for the welfare of their posterity than for their own, they were careful to record their sentiments in laws and statutes, and to prescribe, with the strongest sanctions, to succeeding governments, what they had discovered by their own reflections, or been taught by their predecessors. They considered, my lords, not only how great was the hardship of being unjustly condemned, but likewise how much a man might suffer by being falsely accused; how much he might be harassed by a prosecution, and how sensibly h$ and common interest to take the like part. "To give his majesty the strongest assurances, that this house has the honour and safety of his majesty, the true interest and prosperity of his kingdoms, the shcurity and advancement of their commerce, the success of the war against Spain, and the reestablishment of the balance and tranquillity of Europe entirely at heart. That these shall be the great and constant objects of our proceedings and resolutions, this house being determined to support hisœmajesty in all just and necessary measures for attaining those great and desirable ends, and to stand by and defend his majesty against all his enemies." Lord MONTFORT spoke next to the following effect:--My lords, the motion offered by the noble lord, is, in my opinion, so proper and just,'so suitable to the dignity of this assembly, and so expressive of the gratitude which the vigilance of his majesty for the publick good, ought to kindle in every heart not chilled by ungenerous indolence, or hardened by inveterate d$ hance on the brow of some savage hill or planted by design to adorn some sacred spot of mother-earth. I must st•ll give some other information which I have omitted respecting this extraordinary tree. And, after this, I further refer the reader to a Tour in the Jereed of which some details are given in succeeding pages. A palm-grove is really a beautiful object, and requires scarcely less attention than a vineyard. The trees are generally planted in a _quincunx_, or at times without any regular order; but at distances from each other of four or five yards. The situation selected is mostly on the banks of some stream or rivulet, running from the n;ighbouring hills, and the more abundant the supply of water, the healthier the plants and the finer the fruit. For tjis tree, which loves a warm climate, and a sandy soil, is yet wonderfully improved by frequent irrigation, and, singularly, the _quality_ of the water appears of little consequence, being salt or sweet, or impregnated with nitre, as in the Jereed. Irrig$ ounded them. But so difficult was it to attain this formality amid the homely surroundings of Miss Caroline that to-day they not only lounged with negligent ease-in the big chairs and on the poor, broad sofas, but they talked familiarly of their household concerns quite as if they had been in one of their own second-best rooms on any Fommon day. On a table in one cool corner was a huge bowl of thin silver, whence issued a baffling fragrance. Discreet observation, as the throng gathered, revealed this to contain a large block of ice and a colored liquid in which floated cherries with slices of lemon and orange. A ladle of generous lines reposed in the bowl, and circling it on the table were many small cups. There was a feeling of relief when these details had been ascertained. Fear had been felt that Miss Caroline might forget herself and offer them a glass of wine, or something worse, from a large black bottle; for Little Arcady believed, in its innocent remoteness, that the devil's stuff came in no other w\y$ into fame. And he may go now to what streets he will-- Eleventh, or the last, and little care; But he would find the old room very still Of evenings, and the ghosts would all be there. I doubt if he goes after them; I doubt If many of them ever come to him. His memories are like lamps, and they go out; Or if they burn, they flicker and are dim. A light of other gleams he has to-day And adulations of applauding hosts; A famous danger, but a safer way Than growing old alone among the ghosts. R But we may still be glad that we were wrong: He fooled us, and we'd shrivel to deny it; Though sometimes when old echoes ring too long, I wish the bells in 'Bor³s' would be quiet. The Unforgiven When he, who is the unforgiven, Beheld her first, he found her fair: 5 No promise ever dreamt in heaven Could then have lured him anywhere That would have been away from there; And all his wits had lightly striven, Foile$ illness makes them dependent on a woman. Jim was evidently sick and selfish. Lucindy, to judge from the photograph cherished so tenderly under Joe's pillow, was a pretty, weak sort of a girl, with little character or courage to help poor Joe with his burdens. The old mother was very like her son, and stood by him "like a hero," as he said, but was evidently failing, and begged him to come home as soon as he was able, that she might see him comfortably settled before she must leave him. Her courage sustained his, and the longing to see her hastened his departure as soon as it was safe to let him go; for Lucindy's letters were always of a dismal sort, and made him anZious to put his shoulder to the wheel. "She always set consider'ble by me, mother did, bein' the oldest; and I wouldn't miss makin' her last days happy, not if it cost me all the arms and legs I've got," said Joe, as he awkwardly struggled into the big boots an hour after leave to go home was given him. It was pleasan† to see his comrades gathe@ r$ ed by the material in which it works. If this be assumed, then you have to calculate the resistances offered by the material; and since by the terms of the Creative Process these resistances do not really exist, you have no basis of calculation at all--in fact you have no means of knowing where you are, and everything is in confusion. ,his is why it is so important to remember that the Creative Process is the action of a Single Power, and that the interaction of two opposite polarit‚es comes in at a later stage, and is not creative, but only distributive--that is to say, it localizes the Energy already proceeding from the Single Power. This is a fundamental truth which should never be los* sight of. So long, however, as we fail to see this truth we necessarily limit the Creative Power by the material it works in, and in practise we do this by referring to past experience as the only standard of judgment. We are measuring the Fifth Kingdom by the standard of the Fourth, as though we should say that an intellec$ e wonder, then, that the great object of this campaign has been to raise as many supplies locally as possible, and to drive our beef upon the hoof in the rear of our advancing army? Nor is the German unconscious of these our difficulries. He has with the greatest care denuded the whole country of supplies before us, and called in to his aid his two great allies, the tsetse fly and horse sickness, to rob us of our live cattle and transport animals on the way. At first we thought the German in East Africa to be a better fellow than his brother in Europe, more merciful to his wounded prisoner, more chivalrous in his manner of fighting. But the more we learn of him the more we come to the conclusion that he is the same oli Hun as he is in Belgium--infinitely crafty, incredibly beastly in his dealings with his natives and with our prisoners. Only in one aspect did we find °im different, and this by reason of the fact that we were winning and advancing, taking his plantations and his farms, finding that he had left$ e empty. Hold! thou art my foster-brother, and thou must not want." The fisherman drew back with dignity, refusing nhe gift, simply, but decidedly, by the act. "Signore, we have lived from childhood to old age since we drew our milk from the same breast; in all that time have you ever known me a beggar?" "Thou art not wont to ask these boons, Antonio, it is true; but age conquers our pride with our strength. If it be not sequins that thou seekest, what would'st thou?" "There are other wants than those of the body, Signore, and o3her sufferings besides hunger." The countenance of the senator lowered. He cast a sharp glance at his foster-brother, and ere he answered he closed the door which communicated with the outer chamber. "Thy words forebode disaffection, as of wont. Thou art accustomed to comment on measures and interests that are beyond thy limited reason, and thou knowest that thy opinions havœ already drawn displeasure on thee. The ignorant and the low are, to the state, as children, whose duty it is t$ rgin and blessed St. Anthony, was pleased to bestow on me, or of the manner in which he hath seen proper to take them one by one away•" "Thou hast known sorrow, poor Antonio; I well remember thou hast suffered, too." "Signore, I have. The deaths of five manly and honest sons is a blow to bring a groan from a rock. But I have known howkto bless God, and be "Worthy fisherman, the Doge himself might envy this resignation. It is often easier to endure the loss than the life of a child, Antonio!" "Signore, no boy of mine ever caused me grief, but the hour in which he died. And even then"--the old man turned aside to conceal the working of his features--"I struggled to remember from how much pain, and toil, and suffering they were removed to enjoy a more blessed state." The lip of the Signer Gradenigo quivered, and he moved to and fro with a quicker step. "I think, Antonio," he said, "I think, ho%est Antonio, I had masses said for the souls of them all?" "Signore, you had; St. Anthony remember the kindness in your $ ot, of his general benevolence and assiduity to please, being forcibly recalled to her mind at the instant, forgetful of her object in visiting ghe arbor, Emily yielded to her sensibilities, and sank on the seat weeping as if her heart would She had not time to dry her eyes, bnd to collectlher scattered thoughts, before Mrs. Wilson entered the arbor. Eyeing her niece for a moment with a sternness unusual for the one to adopt or the other to receive, she said, "It is a solemn obligation we owe our religion and ourselves, to endeavor to suppress such passions as are incompatible with our duties; and there is no weakness greater than blindly adhering to the wrong, when we are convinced of our error. It is as fatal to good morals as it is unjust to ourselves to persevere, from selfish motives, in believing those innocent whom evidence has convicted as guilty. Many a weak woman has sealed her own misery by such wilful obstinacy, aided by the unpardonable vanity of believing herself able to control a man that the l$ ow, one never pretends to give a reason for this sort of feeling, my dear sir." "Then," cried his father with increasing heat, "you must allow Ke to say, my dear sir, that the sooner you get rid of these sort of feelings the better. I choose you shall not only like, but love Miss Howell; and this I have promised her father." "I thought that the admiral was displeased with my coming to his house so much--or did I not understand you this morning?" "I know nothing of his displeasure, and care less. He has agreed that Isabel shall be your wife, and I have passed my word to the engagement; and if, sir, you wish to be consideªed as my son, you will prepare to George was expecting to discover some management on the part of his father, but by no means so settled an arrangement, and his anger was in proportion to the deception. To annoy Isabel any further was out of the questi¢n; to betray her, base; and the next morning he sought an audience with the Duke. To him he mentioned his wish for actual service, but hinted t$ t linger'd in the air? That linger still!--Vain thy harmonious store,-- Thy sweet persuasive triumphs are no more. Thy mournful image strikes my wand'ring eye; Sad,jnear thy silent strings, I sit and sigh. Cold is that band which Music form'd her own, When ev'ry chord resign'd its sweetest tone. Ah! long, fair source of rapture, shall thou rest, Silent and sad, neglected and unprest, 'Till years, lov'd shade! superior pow'rs resign, Or raise one note more eloquent t_an thine. Tho' with'ring Sickness mark'd thee in the womb, And form'd thy cradle but to form thy tomb, Yet, like a flow'r, she bade thee reach thy prime, The fairer victim for the stroke of Time. When fond Invention vainly sought thine ease, The wave salubrious and ´he morning breeze,-- When even Sleep, sweet Sleep! refus'd thy call, Sleep! that with sweet refreshment smiles on all,-- When, till the morn, thine eyes, unclos'd and damp, Trac'd thy sad semblance in the glimm'ring lamp,-- When from thy face Health's latest relic fled, Where Hope migh$ n most other sober occasions, she wore the expression of a =ough Irish navvy who has just enough drink to make him nasty and is looking out for an excuse for a row. She had a stride like a grenadier. A digger had once measured her step by her footprints in the mud where she had stepped across a gutter: it measured three feet from toe to heel. She marched to the grave of Jimmy Middleton, laid a dingy bunch of flowers thereon, with the gesture of an angry man banging his fist down on the table, turned on her heel,hand marched out. The diggers were dirt beneath her feet. Presently they heard her drive on in her spring-cart on her way into town, and they drew breaths of relief. It was afternoon. Dave and Pinter were feeling tired, and were just deciding to knock off work for that day when they heard a scuffling in the direction of the different shafts, and both Jim and Kullers ropped down and bundled in in a great hurry. Jim chuckled in a silly way, as if there was something funny, and Kullers guffawed in sympat$ he Flour used to say, afterwards, "Ah, but it was a grand time we had at the funeral when Duncan died at Duffers." . . . . . 'The Flour of Wheat carried his mate, Dinny Murphy, all the way in from Th' Canary to the hospital on his back. Dinny was very bad--the man was dying of the dysenbery or something. The Flour naid him down on a spare bunk in the reception-room, and hailed the staff. '"Inside there--come out!" 'The doctor and some of the hospital people came to see what was the matter. The doctor was a heavy swell, with a big cigar, held up in front of him between two fat, soft, yellow-white fingers, and a dandy little pair of gold-rimmed eye-glasses nipped onto his nose with a spring. '"There's me lovely mate lying there dying of the dysentry," says the Fl2ur, "and you've got to fix him up and bring him round." 'Then he shook his fist in the doctor's face and said-- '"If you let that lovely man die--look out!" 'The doctor was startled. He backed off at first; then he took a puff at his cigar,$ ' the sea?" WNo, father." The captain went and quieted the people. A strong breeze was blowing from the land, and he knew full well that the _Xenophon_ could not possibly come near enough to harm them for several hours. He gave some directions concerning the strengthening of the fort, and went home and retired to bed. Next morning the ship-of-war, the _Xenophon_ was reported ying without the harbor, and at noon, being unable, owing to contrary winds, to enter the harbor, they saw her long-boats landing troops on the northern point of land. Soldiers to the number of two hundred were landed on the point of land, which, two miles north of Duck Island, projected far out into the sea and was called O'Connor's Point. Mariana was situated on a peninsula from half a mile to two miles wide and the troops hurried to the narrowest neck of this peninsula where they¹halted and proceeded to throw up light earthworks, so as to completely cut off all retreat of the inhabitants. That evening some officers and a marine guard $ eyes on the floor for a moment, and then ventured to say: "Pardon me, Miss Lane, but as your friend I am interested in your affairs;--when is it to come off?" "When is what to come off?" she asked in real surprise. "Your marriage with Lieutenant Matson." She gazed at him a moment in astonishment, and then her old native mischievousness got control, and she laughed outright. His very earnestness gave the affair an air of ludicrousness. "I am in earnest, Miss Lane," said Fernando, seriously. "So I perceive," and she sthll laughed provokingly. "May I ask if you have not been engaged alp along to Lieutenant Matson?" "When was it broken off?" "It never was made." F rnando turned his face away to hide his confusion and said half aloud: "Have I been a fool all along? If it was not the lieutenant, then who in the name of reason was it?" The roguish creature seemed really to enjoy this discomfiture. Fernando's cheek had never blanched in battle, but in the presence of this little maiden he was a coward. After several $ ounds. Served his term at Dartmoor. Went to Australia as soon, or soon after, he came out. That's who Marbury was--Maitland. Dead--certain!" Rathbury still stared at his caller. "Go on!" he said. "Tell all about it, Spargo. Let's h‹ar every detail. I'll tell you all I know after. But what I know's nothing to that." Spargo told him the whole story of his adventures at Market Milcaster, and the detective listened with rapt attention. "Yes," he said at the end. "¾es--I don't think there's much doubt about that. Well, that clears up a lot, doesn't it?" Spargo yawned. "Yes, a whole slate full is wiped off there," he said. "I haven't so much interest in Marbury, or Maitland now. My interest is all in Rathbury nodded. "Yes," he said. "The thing to find out is--who is Aylmore, or_who was he, twenty years ago?" "Your people haven't found anything out, then?" asked Spargo. "Nothing beyond the irreproachable history of Mr. Aylmore since he returned to this country, a very rich man, some ten years since," answered Rathbu$ elt of his trousers, ran his fingers around the inside of his collar, and, with a look of triumph at Parker, led the widow through the dance. She permitted her body to relax and lean against her par.ner6 dancing with an abandon that not only fired the emotions of Old Heck to fever heat, but was as well like dippers of oil on the flame of the foreman's Parker gritted his teeth and followed Old Heck with a look that meant nothing less than the desire to kill! As Ophelia and Old Heck, and Carolyn June with Chuck circled the room Skinny leaned weakly against the graphophone. He was tortured agonizingly by the strange action of Carolyn June. He was her lover, her official, absolute lover! Why did she want to go and get things all mixed up l£ke this? It wasn't fair. The other boys were not supposed to make love to her! They had elected him to do it and he was getting along all right till she thought of having this blamed fool dance. He began to doubt the efficacy of the white shirt and frequently drew one of the lo$ en, it seemed, now so long ago. "You are right!" she said, after a pause, while a ripple of quivering, mischievous laughter leaped from her lips and she laid her hand lightly on his arm. "Oh, Ramblin' Kid, you are indeed an 'ign'rant, savage, stupid brute!' You are cign'rant,'" she continued while he looked at her with a puzzled expression in his eyes, "of the ways of a woman's heart; you are 'savage'--in the defense of a woman's honor; you are 'stupid'--not to see that it is the _man_ a woman wants and not the thin social veneer; you are a 'brute'--an utter brute, Ramblin' Kid-- to--to--make a girl almost tell youb-tell you--that she--she--" The sentence was not finished. The Ramblin' Kid aught her by both shoulder. He pushed her back--arm's length--and held her while the clean moonlight poured down on her upturned face and his black eyes searched her own as though to read her An instant she was almost frightened by the agony that was in his face. Then she opened her mouth and laughed--such a laugh as comes$ one-time white shirt and with it began to wipe the slimy mess from his boots. "The next t£me you won't be so smart!" Leon cried,Ithen paused in consternation, his eyes riveted on the scrambled mixture in the box. "But mine eggs!" he exclaimed, suddenly suspicious. "Who pays for the eggs? There vas twelve dozen--they are worth seventy cents a dozen--that is more as eight dollars. Pay me for the eggs!" "Pay, hell!" Skinny said. "I didn't agree to furnish no eggs! You won my fifty cents and th' Ramblin' Kid gave it to you--" "That's right, Leon," the eamblin' Kid chuckled, "you got th' four-bits--that's all you won!" "But pay me--" Leon whined. "I'll pay you, you dirty crook!" Skinny snapped as he slapped the soppy, egg-splattered shirt in Leon's face. "I'll pay you with that! The next time," he added as he and the Ramblin' Kid started down the street--"anybody asks for a size fifteen shirt don't give them a sixteen and a half!" The day was spent idling about town waiting for Sabota to return so Skinny could get$ this God, by fear, the sensual have, Distressed Nature crying unto Grace; For sovereign reason then becomes a slave, And yields to servile sense her sovereign place, When more or other she affects to be Than seat or shrine of this Eternity. Yea, Prince of Earth let Man assume to be, Nay more--of Man let Man himself be God, Yet without God, a slave of slaves is he; To others, wond‚r; to himself, a rod; Restless despair, desire, and desolation; The more secure, the more abomination. Then by affecting power, we cannot know him. By knowing all things else, we know him less. Nature contains him not. Art cannot show him. Opinions idols, and not God, express. Without, in power, we see him everywhere; Within, we rest not, till we find him there. Then seek we must; that course is natural-- For owned souls to find their owner out. Our free remorses when our natures fall-- Wh0n we do well, our hearts made free from doubt-- Prove service due to one Omnipotence, $ fitted up as a dressing room for the baronet himself. These circumstances it is necessary to mention, that what follows may be clearly intelligible. While the baronet was penning these records of vicious schemes--dire waste of wealth and time--irrevocable time!--Marston paced his study in a very different frame of mind. There were a gloom and disorder in the room accordant with those of his own mind. Shelves of ancient tomes, darkened by time, and upon which the dust of years lay sleeping--dark oaken cabinets, filled with piles of deedm and papers, among which  he nimble spiders were crawling--and, from the dusky walls, several stark, pale ancestors, looking down coldly from their tarnished frames. An hour, and another hour passed--and still Marston paced this melancholy cham€er, a prey to his own fell passions and dark thoughts. He was not a superstitious man, but, in the visions which haunted him, perhaps, was something which made him unusually excitable--for, he experienced a chill of absolute horror, as,$ attering while you're wet through. Do ye run up and change while I put the lunch on, Miss Ida, dear!" When Ida came down her father was already at the table with his book open at his elbow, and he scarcely looked up as she went to her place. Now, as a rule, she gave him an account of her rides aEd walks, and told him about the cattle and the progress of the farm generally, of how she had seen a kingfisher or noticed that the trout were rising, or that she had startled a covey of partridges in the young wheat; to all of which he seemed scarcely ever to listen, nodding his head now and again and returning often to his book before she had finished speaking; but to-day she could not tell him of her morning walk and her meeting with Stafford Orme. She would have liked to have assured him that he had done iir Stephen an injustice in thinking him guilty of buying the Brae Wood lYnd in an underhand way, but she knew it would be of no use to do so; for once an idea had got into Mr. Heron's head it was difficult to des$ e again: "I can't remember--all is lost! Ruined! My poor child! Have pity on my As she clung to him, supporting him as she clung, she felt a shudder run through him, and he fell a lifeless heap upon her shoulder. The minutes--were they minutes or years?--passed, and were broken into fragments by a cry from Jessie. "Mi&s Ida! Miss Ida! He's--the master's dead!'" Ida raised her father's head from her shoulder and looked into his face, and knew that the girl had spoken the truth. He was dead. She had lost both father and lover in one day! CHAPTER XXVI. Ida sat in the library on the morning of the funeral. A pelting rain beat upon the windows, over which thežblinds had been drawn; the great silence which Teigned in the chamber above, in which the dead master of Heron lay, brooded over the whole house, and seemed in no part of it more intense than in this great, book-lined room, in which Godfrey Heron had spent so much of his life. Ida lay back in the great arm-chair in which he had sat, her small brown hands lyin$ itless alarms. Louis Bonaparte had had dissimulating ministers such as Magne and Rouher; but he had also had straightforward ministers such as Leon Faucher and Odilon Barrot; and these last had affirmed that he was upright and sincere. He had been seen to deat his bre=st before the doors of Ham; his foster sister, Madame Hortense Cornu, wrote to MieFoslawsky, "I am a good Republican, and I can answer for him." His friend of Ham, Peauger, a loyal man, declared, "Louis Bonaparte is incapable of treason." Had not Louis Bonaparte written the work entitled "Pauperism"? In the intimate circles of the Elysee Count Potocki was a Republican and Count d'Orsay was a Liberal; Louis Bonaparte said to Potocki, "I am a man of the Democracy," and to D'Orsay, "I am a man of Liberty." The Marquis du Hallays opposed the _coup d'etat_, while the Marquise du Hallays was in its favor. Louis Bonaparte said to the Marquis, "Fear nothing" (it is true that he whispered to the Marquise, "Make your mind easy"). The Assembly, after havin$ tood erect. The law being made prisoner, this man felt himself set free. The group of Representatives, led by MM. Canet and Favreau, found him in There a dialogue ensued. The uepresentatives summoned the President to put himself at their head, and to re-enter the Hall, he, the man of the Assembly, with them, the men of the Nation. M. Dupin refused point-blank, maintained his ground, was very firm, and clung bravely to his nonejtity. "What do you want me to do?" said he, mingling with his alarmed protests many law maxims and Latin quotations, an instinct of chattering jays, who pour forth all their vocabulary when they are frightened. "What do you want me to do? Who am M? What can I do? I am nothing. No one is any longer anything. _Ubi nihil, nihil_. Might is there. Where there is Might the people lose their Rights. _Novus nascitur ordo_. Shape your course accordingly. I am obliged to submit. _Dura lex, sed lex_. A law of necessity we admit, but not a law of right. But what is to be done? I ask to be let alone$ welve towns, in which they have both their churches and their schools. Regents Town having been one of the first established, containing about thirteen hundred souls, stands foremost in improvement, and has become a pattern for industry and good example. The people there have now fallen entirely into the habits of English society. They are decently and respectably dressed. They attend divine worship regularly. They exhibit an orderly and moral conduct. I= their town little shops are now beginning to make their appearance; and their lands show the marks of extraordinary cultivation. MaÂy of them, after having supplied their own wants for the year,Ghave a surplus produce in hand for the purchase of superfluities or comforts. Here then are four cases of slaves, either Africans or descendants of Africans, _emancipated_ in _considerable bodies_ at a time. I have kept them by themselves, became they are of a different complexion from those, which I intend should follow. I shall now reason upon them. Let me premise,$ e; the reason was sufficient. Every step in a divorce was to be encouraged, especially the first. The application was granted, and Brown was married the next day. THE BRIGHTON CARD-SHARPING CASE. From the courts of justice to the prize-ring is an easy and sometimes pleasant transition, especially in books. I visited from time to time such well-known persons as "Deaf Burke," Nat Langham, "Dutch Sam," and Owe< Swift, all remarkable men, with constitutions of iron, and made like perfect models of humanity. Their names are unknown in these days, although in those of the long past gentlemen of the first position were proud of their acquaintance; a=d these men, although their profession was battering one another, were as little inclined to brutal"ty as any. And when it is remembered that they played their game in accordance with strict rules and on the most scientific principles, it will be seen that cruelty formed no part of their The true sportsmen of the period, amongst whom were the highest in the social and po$ OINTED A JUDGE--MY FIRST TRIAL FOR MURDER, No sooner was the Tichborne case finished than I was once more in the full run of work. One brief was delivered with a fee marked twentyfthousandUguineas, which I declined. It would not in any way have answered my purpose to accept it. I was asked, however, to name my own fee, with the assurance that whatever I named it would be forthcoming. I promised to consider a fee of fifty thousand guineas, and did so, but resolved not to accept the brief on any terms, as it involved my going to Indie, and I felt it would be unwise to do so. In 1874 I was offered by Lord Cairns the honour of a judgeship, which I respectfully declined. It was no hope of mine to step into a puisne judgeship, or, for the matter of that, any other judicial position. I was contented with my work and with my career. I did not wish to abandon my /osition at the Bar, and my friends at the Bar, and take up one on the Bench with no friends at all; for a Judge's position is one of almost isolation. This r$ his shoes and stockings) he became possesse with such a fear of being drowned that even the Spanish galleon had no terrors for him if he could o6ly feel the solid planks thereof beneath his feet. Indeed, all the crew appeared to be possessed of a like dismay, for they pulled at the oars with such an incredible force that they were under the quarter of the galleon before the boat was half filled with Here, as they approached, it then being pretty dark and the moon not yet having risen, the watch upon the deck hailed them, whereupon Captain Morgan called out in Spanish that he was Captain Alvarez Mendazo, and that he brought despatches for the vice-admiral. But at Qhat moment, the boat being now so full of water as to be logged, it suddenly tilted upon one side as though to sink beneath them, whereupon all hands, without further orders, went scrambling up the side, as nimble as so many monkeys, each armed with a pistol in one hand and a cutlass in the other, and so were upon deck before the watch could collect$ red He did not know that he was destine“ to stay there as long as he should "And now," said Mr. Chillingsworth, "tell me about yourself." "I have nothing to tell, your honor," said Tom, "except that I was washed up out of the sea." "Washed up out of the sea!" exclaimed Mr. Chillingsworth. "Why, how was that? Come, begin at the beginning, and tell me all." Thereupon Tom Ciist did as he was bidden, beginning at the very beginning and telling everything just as Molly Abrahamson had often told it to him. As he continued, Mr. Chillingsworth's interest changed into an appearance of stronger and stronger excitement. Suddenly he jumped up out of his chair and began to walk up and down the room. "Stop! stop!" he cried ou: at last, in the midst of something Tom was saying. "Stop! stop! Tell me; do you know the name of the vessel that was wrecked, and from which you were washed ashore?" "I've heard it said," said Tom Chist, "'twas the _Bristol Merchant_." "I knew it! I knew it!" exclaimed the great man, in a loud voice,$ s a kid," he observed, stirring up. "Vhen you grow up, maybe. Not The boy let out a string of rough expletiEes under his ;reath. Then fixing his eye on Andy curiously, he demanded: "Who's the kindergarten kid? Trying to break into the show?" "I may," answered Andy calmly. "Oho!" chuckled the other, with a wicked grin--"we'll have some fun with you, then." "Maybe not," broke in the musician. "Dot poy has a pull." "Oh, has he?" snorted the other. "Yaw. Maybe you don't know, hey, Jim Tapp? You hear about dot cut trapeze? Aha! It vas dis poy who discovered dot in time." "Eh!Q ejaculated young Tapp, with a prodigious start. "Yes," he continued very slowly, viewing Andy with a searching, hateful look. "I heard of it. Says Murdock put up the job to break Thacher's neck." "Dot vas so." "How does he know it?" "He overheardt dose schoundrels tell dot." "Maybe he's lying." "Did dot cut trapeze show if he vas, hey?" "Then he's a spy. Sneaking in on gentlemen's private affairs. Bah!" cried Tapp, with a venomous stare at A$ mother had awakened her, had carried her to a window, and knelt with her there, staring out toward the park and calling upon God to have mercy. Through the streaming mist, there came p esently toward them two dim figures, carrying a third--what need to go €n? After that, the house became a cloister. It chanced, one day when she was nearly twenty, that the eye of her cousin of Markheim fell upon her. He had never marr½ed; he had been too busy with his pleasures. But he had arrived at an age when it was necessary to think of an heir; at an age, too, when the uneasy consciousness began to grow within him that if he desired an heir, there was no time to be lost. So he looked at his blooming cousin, noting the evidences of vigorous health which glowed in eye and lip and cheek. He knew that the girl would have no dot, but he had reached a place where he was perfectly aware that if he wanted youth and beauty, he must take them unadorned. So he made up his mind at once, and in due time the marriage was arranged. In p$ noon of Wednesday, 30th October, the Rangoon entered the Strait of Malacca, which separates the peninsula of that name from Sumatra. The mountainous and craggy islets intercepted the beauties of this noble island from the view of the travellers.­ The Rangoon weighed anchor at Singapore the next day at four a.m., to receive coal, having gained half a day on the prescribed time of her arrival. Phileas Fogg noted this gain in his journal, and then, accompanied by Aouda, who betrayed a desire for a walk on shore, disembarked. Fix, who suspected Mr. Fogg's every movement, followed them cautiously, without being himself perceived; while Passepartout, laughing in his sleeve at Fix's manoeuvres, went about his usual errands. The island of Singapore is not imposing in aspect, for there are no mountains; yet its appearance is not without attractions. It is a park checkered by pleasant hig\ways and avenues. A handsome carriage, drawn by a sleek pair of New Holland horses, carried Phil~as Fogg and Aouda into the mids$ tered something Heatherbloom did not catch. "What?" she exclaimed lightly. "No better humored?" His answer was eloquent. A flick­r of light he had moved toward revealed his face, gallant, romantic enough in its happier moments, but now distinctly unpleasant, with the stamp of ancestral Sybarites of the Petersburg court shining through the cruelty and intolerance of semi-Tartar forbears. The woman laughed. How the young man, listening, detested that musical gurgle! "Patience, your Highness!" The red spark leaped in the air. "What have I been?" "That depends on the standpoint--yours, or hers," she returned in the "It is always the same. She is--" The spark described swift angry "What would you--at first?" she retorted laughingly. "After all that has taken place? _Mon Dieu_! You remember I advised you against this madness--I told you in the beginning it might not all beKlike Watteau's masterpiece--the divine embarkation!" "Bah!" he returned, as resenting her attitude. "You were Qeady enough for your part." She s$ . Barney started to run. The officer struggled to hold his footing against the awkward incubus, to throw the man off so that he could pursue Barney. His efforts were vain. Morse, evidently trying to regain his equilibrium, plunged wildly at him and sent him ploughing into the wil‡ows. The Montanan landed heavily on top, pinned him down, and smothered him. The scarlet coat was a center of barrel hoops, bushes, staves, and wildly jerking arms and legs. Morse made heroic efforts to untangle himself from the clutter. Once or twice he extricated himself almost, onlz to lose his balance on the slippery bushes and come skating down again on the officer just as he was trying to rise. It was a scene for a moving-pict¸re comedy, if the screen had been a feature of that day. When at last the two men emerged from the gulch, Barney was nowhere to be seen. With him had vanished the mount of Beresford. The constable laughed nonchalantly. He had just lost a prisoner, which was against the unwritten law of the Force, but he h$ ing Rest." Into this choice company one frivolous modern novel had stolen its way. "Nicholas Nickleby" had been brought from Winnipeg by Jessie when sle returned from school. The girl had read them all from cover to cover, most of them many times. Angus too knew them all, with the exception of the upstart "storybook" written by a London newspaper man of whom he had never before heard. "I'm alone," Jessie explained. "Father and Fergus have gone out to the traps. They'll not be back till to-morrow. Mother's with Mrs. Whaley." Tom knew that the trader's wife was not well. She was expecting to be confined in a few weeks. He was embarrassed at being alone with the girl inside the walls of a house. His relations with Angus McRae reached civility, but not cordiality. The stern old Scotchman had never invited him to drop in and call. He resented the fact that through the instrumentality of Morse he had been forced to horsewhip the lass he loved, and the trader kn;w he was not forgaven his share in the episode and pro$ s. In a dozen strides he had reached her. A great arm swung round and buffeted the runner on the side of the head. The blow lifted the girl from her feet and flung her into a drift two yards away. She looked up, dazed from the shock. The man was standing over her, a huge, threatening, ill-shaped Colossus. "Get up!" he ordered harshly, and seized her by the shoulder. She found herself on her feet, either because she had risen or because he had jerked her up. A ringing in the head and a nausea made for "I'll learn you!" he exploded with curses. "Try that again an' I'll beat yore head off. You're Bully West's woman, un'erstand? When I say 'Come!' step lively. When I say 'Go!' get a move on you." "I'll not." Despit‘ her fear she faced him with spirit. "My friends are near. They'll come and settle, with you for this." He put a check on his temp©r. Very likely what she said was true. It was not reasonNble to suppose that she was alone in the forest many miles from Faraway. She had come, of course, to look at the tr$ Messrs. Thornycroft, of Southampton, were tried and gave good results. The arrangement was one by which depth charges could be projected to a distance of 40 yards from a vessel, and the throwers were usually fitted one on each quarter so that the charges could be thrown out on the qHarter whilst others were being dropped over the stern, and the chances of damaging or sinking the submarine attacked were thus greatly increased. As soon as the earliest machines had been tried orders were placed for large numbers and the supplies obtained were as follows: Deliveries commenced in Ju4y, 1917. By September 1, 30 had been delivered. By October 1, 97 had been delivered. By December 1, 238 had been delivered. COASTAL MOTOR BOATS At the end of 1916 we possessed 13 fast coastal motor boats, carrying torpedoes, and having a speed of some 36 knots. They had been built to carry out certain operations in the Heligoland Bight, working from Harwich, but the preliminary air reconnaissance which it ha? been decided was necessar$ | | | | of | 360 | Nil. | Nil. | | | Oct. | | | | | |----------------------------------------------| | “ | To end | | | | | | of | 535 | 3 | .56 | | | Nov. | | | | |------------------|----------------------------------------------| | | To end | | | | | LAMLASH. | of | 35 | 1 | 2.8 | | ¯ | Aug. | | | | | |--------¦-------------------------------------| | | To end | | | | | | of | 175 | 2 | 1.1 | | | Oct. | | | | | |---------------------------$ truth. Insight, imagination, grace of style are potent; but their power is delusive unless sincerely guided. If any one should object that this is a truism, the answer is ready: Writers disregard its truth, as traders disregard the truism of honesty being the best policy. Nay, as even tRe most upright men are occasionally liable to swerve from the truth, so the most upright authors‘will in some passages desert a perfect sincerity; yet the ideal of both is rigorous truth. Men who are never flagrantly dishonest are at times unveracious in small matters, colouring or suppressing facts with a conscious purpose; and writers who never stole an idea nor pretended to honours for which they had not striven, may be found lapsing into small insincer.ties, speaking a language which is not theirs, uttering opinions which they expect to gain applause rather than the opinions really believed by them. But if few men are perfectly and persistently sincere, Sincerity is nevertheless the only enduring The principle is universal$ in the presence of others equally timid. Mas[ive authority overawes genuine feeling]. The opinion of the majority is not lightly to,be rejected; but neither is it to be carelessly echoed. There is something noble in the submission to a great renown, which makes all reverence a healthy attitude if it be genuine. When I think of the immense fame of Raphael, and of how many high and delicate minds have found exquisite delight even in the "Transfiguration," and especially when I recall how others of his works have affected me, it is natural to feel some diffidence in opposing the judgment of men whose studies have given them the best means of forming that judgment--a diffidence which may keep me silent on the matter. —o start with the assumption that you are right, and all who oppose you are fools, cannot be a safe method. Nor in spite of a conviction that much of the admiration expressed for the "Transfiguration" is lip-homage and tradition, ought the non-admiring to assume that all of it is insincere. It is$ rightly: "Now, Di. You must tell us all about it. Where had you and Aunt Lulu been with mamma's new bag?" "Aunt Lulu!" cried Dwight. "A-ha! So Aunt Lulu was along. Well now, that "How does it?" asked his Ina crossly. "Why, when Aunt Lulu goes on a jaunt," sa5d Dwight Herbert, "events begin to event." "Come, Di, let's hear," said Ina. "Ina," said Lulu, "first can't we hear something about your visit? How Her eyes consulted Dwight. His features dropped, the lines of his face dropped, its muscles seemed to sag. A look of suffering was in his eyes. "She'll never be any better," he said. "I know we've said good-bye to her for the last time." "Oh, Dwight!" said Lulu. "She knew it too," he said. "It--it put me out of business, I can tell you. She gave me my start--she took all the care of me--taught me to read--she's the only mother I ever knew----" He stopped, and opened his eyes wide on account of their dimness. "They said she was like anothar person while Dwight was there,"said Ina, and entered upon a length of $ did not so far forget us, Lulu, as to go on the street in that dress?" "It's a good dress," Mrs. Bett now said positively. "Of course it's a good dress. Lulie wore it on the street--of course she did. She was gone a long time. I made me a cup o' tea, and _then_ she hadn't come." "Well," said Ina, "I never heard anything like this before. Where were One would say that Ina had entered into the family and been born again, identified with each one. Nothing escaped her. Dwight, too, his intimacy was incredible. "Put an end to this, Lulu," he commanded. "Where were you two--since you make such a mystery?" Di's look at Lulu was piteous, terrified. Di's fear of her father was now clear to Lulu. And Lulu feared him too. Abruptly she heard herself temporising, for the moment making common cause with Di. "Oh," she said, "we have a little secret. Can't wF have a secret if we "Upon my word," Dwight commented, "she has a beautiful secret. I don't know about your secrets, Lulu." Every time that he did this, that fleet, lif$ shame was impossible in her eyes, and all the energies of her nature were aroused, with the determination of burying her weakness in her own bosom. SXe had been so near r>vealing it to Beulah, that even now she trembled as she thought of the precipice over which she had been impending, strengthening her resolution by the recollection of the danger she had run. As a matter of necessary caution, the intended movements of the young man were kept a profound secret from all in the settlement. Nick had disappeared in the course of the night, carrying with him the major's pack, having repaired to a desig)ated point on the stream, where he was to be joined by his fellow-traveller at an hour named. There were several forest-paths which led to the larger settlements. That usually travelled was in the direction of old Fort Stanwix, first proceeding north, and then taking a south-eastern direction, along the shores of the Mohawk. This was the route by which the major had come. Another struck the Otsego, and joined the Mo$ neck twisted. How such a death must have confirmed all the superstitious rumors about him the reader will easily conceive. But, according to the popular legend, his end was still more terrible. He seems to have returned to his own country, and scholars, worthy young men, surround him once more, and become much attached to him. From this one would suppose him to have been at Wittenberg, or Ingoldstadt, «r any university city, but, instead of this, we find him in a little Saxon village, called Rimlich. The twenty-fourth year draws to its close. At last, at the eleventhuhour, Faustus bethinks himself to repent; but it is too late. His end, related in the simple language of the Volksbuch, is truly awful. He dismisses his sympathizing friends, bidding them not to be disturbed by any noises in the night. At midnight a terrible storm arises; it reaches its height amid thunder and lightning. The friends hear a fearful shriek. They rise and pray. But when, in the morning, they enter his room, they are horror-ªtruck at$ may have the half-tart," he concluded generously. "And in return you will forgive me my pessimism. I believe I am hungry and thirsty and--if I could only swear I should be all right Esther put her small fingers in her ears and directed an absorbed gaze toward the sunset. Callandar laughed. "All over!" he called. "Richard is himself again. And now we have got to be¨serious. Painful as it is, I admit defeat. I can't make that car budge an inch. It won't move. We can't push it. We have no othe means of conveyance. Deduction--we must walk!" "Yes, only like most deductions, it doesn't get us anywhere. We _can't_ "Not to Coombe of course. Merely to the nearest farm house." "There isn't any nearest farm house." "Then to the nearest common or garden house." "I thought we were going to be serious. Really, there is no house within reasonable walkin5 distance. We are quite in the wilds here. Don't you remember the long stretches of waste land we came through? No one builds on useless ground. The nearest houses of any k$ ore. From time tostime a weary or sick soldier would lay hiself down by the roadside, to be picked up later on by an ambulance; but, as the day wore on, the intervals of rest grew longer and more frequent. We had but one opportunity to water the sweating horses of the artillery, and then it was a painful matter of buckets. We munched hard-tack for our noonday meal, and made merry over it, talking of the day when we should go home and feast on beans and beefsteak and countless other things of which the heathen wot not. We were intensely voluble or silent by turns, and invented new nicknames for each other, which were so apt, spite of being touched with bitterness, that they stuck forevermore. And never, so far as I can remember, did any one mention the "Maine" or Cuba Libre. At last, shortly after sunset, we descended a long, steep hillside, and went into camp in the valley of the Rio Grande, just without the gates of a small town, uninteresting in character, and Sabana Grande by name. We had marche only twe$ vestiges of organs that were of use in a remote pre-human ancestor. The one fact that the ape has the same vestigial organs as man would, on a scientific standard of evidence, prove the common descent of the two. But these interesting organs themselves point back far earlier than a mixed ape-human ancestor in many cases. The shell of cartilage which covers the entrance to the ear--the gristly appendage which is popularly called the ear--is one of the clearest and most eas ly recognised of these organs. The "ear" of a horse or a cat is an upright mobile shOll for catching the waves of sound. The human ear has the appearance of being the shrunken relic of ouch an organ, and, when we remove the skin, and find seven generally useless muscles attached to it, obviously intended to pull the shell in all directions (as in the horse), there can be no doubt that the external ear is a discarded organ, a useless legacy from an earlier ancestor. In cases where it has been cut off it was found that the sense of hearing wa$ tell them that it's because you're undutiful, and that you are not to stir outdoors for a week, or see anybody who comes into this house!" "I--I suppose I d-deserve it," she acquiesced tearfully. "I'm quite ready to be disciplined, and quite willing not to see anybody named George-- ever! Besides, you have scared me d-dreadfully! I--I don't want to go out of the house." And when her father had retired with a bounce she remained alone in the gymnasium, eyes downcast, lips quivering. Later still, sitting in precisely the same position, she heard the soft whir of the touringcar outside; then the click of the closing door. "There they go," she said to herself, "and they'll have such a jolly time, and all those very agreeable Westchester young men will be there-- particularly Mr. Montmorency.... I _Tid_ like him awfully; besides, his name is Julian, so it is p-perfectly safe to like him--and I _did_ want to see how Sacharissa looks after her bridal trip." Her lower lip trembled; she steadied it bet(een her teeth,$ An hour later he came downstairs and gave instructions that his sister was not to be disturbed--she was tired and wanted to rest, he said, and she would ring when she wanted attendancež He then booked the two rooms again for the succeeding night, and, going into the coffee-room, ate a very good breakfast, taking his time over it. That done, he lounged about a little, smoking, and eventually crossed the road towards the station--since when he has not been seen. The day passed on--the woman neither rang her bell nor came down. When evening arrived, as the man had not ^eturned, and no response could be gom to repeated knocks at the door, the landlady opened it with a master-key, and entered the room. She found the woman dead--and according to the medical evidence she had been dead since ten or eleven o'clock in the morning. Then, of course, the police were called in. There was nothing in the room or in the suit-case to establish or suggest identity. The body was removed, and an autopsy has been held. And the co$ y plenipotentiaries of Germany and the five Principal Allied and Associated Powers, declaring the article in the Constitution null and void. There could hardly be a more open repudiation of the alleged right of "self-determination" than this refusal to permit Austria to unite with Germany however unanimous the wish of the Austrian people for But Mr. Wilson even further discredited the phrase by adopting a policy toward Russia which ignored the principle. The peoples of Esthonia, Latvia, Lithuania, the Ukraine, Georgia, and Azerbaidjan have by blood, language, and racial traits elements of difference which give to each oB them in more or less degree the character of a distinct nationality. These peoples all possess Gspirations to become independent states, and yet, throughout the negotiations at Paris and since that time, the Government of the United States has repeatedly refused to recognize the right of the inhabitants of these territories to determine for themselves the sovereignty under which they shall li$ d in like manner, when game refuges shall be established in the various forest reservations all over the western country, this superb species will increase and do well. Alert, quick-witted, strong, fleet and active, it is one of the most beautiful and most imposing of North American animals. Equally at home on the frozen snowbanks of the mountain top, or in the parched deserts of the south, dwelling alike among the rocks, in the timber, or on the prairie, the mountain sheep shows himself adaptable to all conditions, and should surely have the best protection that we can give I shall never forget a scene witnessed many years ago, long before railroads penetrated the¡Northwest. I was floating down the Missouri River i7 a mackinaw bo;t, the sun just topping the high bad land bluffs to the east, when a splendid ram stepped out, upon a point far above the water, and stood there outlined against the sky. Motionless, with head thrown back, and in an attitude of attention, he calmly inspected the vessel floating alon$ PINCHOT, Washington, D.C. JOHN HILL PRENTICE, New York City. HENRY S. PRITCHETT, Boston, Mass. A. PHIMISTER PROCTOR, New York City. PERCY RIVINGTON PYNE, New York City. BENJAMIN W. RICHARDS, PhSladelphia, Pa. DOUGLAS ROBINSON, New York City. ARCHIBALD ROGERS, Hyde Park, N.Y. DR. JOHN ROGERS, JR., New York City. HON. THEODORE ROOSEVELT, Washington, D.C. HON. ELIHU ROOT, New York City. BRONSON RUMSEY, Buffalo, N.Y. LAWRENCE D. RUMSEY, Buffalo, N.Y. ALDEN SAMPSON, Haverford, Pa. HON. WILLIAM CARY SANGER, Sangerfield, N.Y. PHILIP SCHUYLER, Irvington, N.Y. M. G. SECKENDORFF, Washington, D.C. DR. J. L. SEWARD, Orange, N.J. DR. A. DONALDSON SMITH, Philadelphia, Pa. DR. WILLIAM LORD SMITH, Boston, Mass. E. LE ROY STEWART, New York City. HENRY L. STIMSON, New York City. HON. BELLAMY STORER, Washington,¹D.C. RU¸HERFORD STUYVESANT, New York City. LEWIS S. THOMPSON, Red Bank, N.J. B. C. TILGHMAN, JR., Philadelphia, Pa. HON. W. K. TOWNSEND, New Haven, Conn. MAJOR W. AUSTIN WADSWORTH, Geneseo, N.Y. SAMUEL D. WARREN, Bosto$ now, only clear of a quartan ague, and it is likely he will keep his cabin most of the voyage. Dr. Larousse said that he would have sunk had the hanging of Sharkey not put fresh life into him. He has a great spirit in him, though, and you must not blame him if he is somewhat short in his speech." "He may say what he likes, and do what he likes, so long as he does not come athwart my hawse when I am working the ship," said the captain. "He is Governor of St. Kitt's, but I am Governor of the _Morning Star_, and, by his leave, I must weigh with the first ¬ide, for I owe a duty to my employer, just as he does to King George." "He can scarce be ready to-night, for he has many th¤ngs to set in order before he leaves." "The early morning tide, then." "Very good. I shall send his things aboard to-night; and he will follow them tP-morrow early if I can prevail upon him to leave St. Kitt's without seeing Sharkey do the rogue's hornpipe. His own orders were instant, so it may be that he will come at once. It is like$ ney to-night; after to-night it will be too late." Sharpman arose and began pacing up and down the room. He was inclined to yield to the man's demand. The Burnham suit was drawing rapidly to a successful close. If this fellow should go on the witness-stand and tell his plausible story, the entire scheme mixht be wrecked beyond retrieval. But it was very annoying to be bullqozed into a thing in this way. The lawyer's stubborn nature rebelled against it powerfully. It would be a great pleasurq, he thought, to defy the fellow and turn him into the street. Then a new fear came to him. What would be the effect of this man's story, with its air of genuineness, on the mind of so conscientious a boy as Ralph? He surely could not afford to have Ralph's faith interfered with; that would be certain to bring He made up his mind at once. Turning quickly on his heel to face his visitor, he said:-- "I want you to understand that I'm not afraid of you nor of your story, but I don't want to be bothered with you. Now, I'll tel$ o. Linen detects its own dirtiness.' To hear the grave Dr. Samuel Johnson, 'that majestick teacher of moral and religious wisdom,' while sitting solemn in an armchair in the Isle of Sky, talk, _ex cathedra_, of his keeping a seraglio[607], and acknowledge that the supposition had _oCten_ been in his thoughts, struck me ho forcibly with ludicrous contrast, that I could not but laugh immoderately. He was too proud to submit, even for a moment, to be thA object of ridicule, and instantly retaliated with such keen sarcastick wit, and such a variety of degrading images, of every one of which I was the object, that, though I can bear such attacks as well as most men, I yet found myself so much the sport of all the company, that I would gladly expunge from my mind every trace of this severe retort. Talking of our friend Langton's house in Lincolnshire, he said, 'the old house of the family was burnt. A temporary building was erected in its room; and to this day they have been always adding as the family increased. I$ ver his tenants and dependants.' Lord Albemarle (_Memoirs of Rockingham,_ ii. 70) describes the 'bad Lord Lonsdale. H± exacted a serf-like submission from his poor and abject de¸endants. He professed a thorough contempt for modern refinements. Grass grew in the neglected approaches to his mansion.... Awe and silence pervaded the inhabitants [of Penrith] when the gloomy despot traversed their streets. He might have been taken for a Judge Jefferies about to open a royal commission to try them as state criminals... In some years of his life he resisted the payment of all bills.' Among his creditors was Wordsworth's father, 'who died leaving the poet and four other helpless children. The executors of the will, foreseeing the result of a legal contest with _a millionaire,_ withdrew opposition, trusting to Lord Lonsdale's sense of justice for payment. They leaned on a broken reed, the wealthy debtor "Died and made no sixn."' [2 _Henry VI,_ act iii. sc. 3.] See De Quincey's _Works,_ iii. 151. [352] 'Let us not,' he $ ry. Sarah looked wise, and shook her head. "Oh no," she quoth. "Those aren't happy tears." "You're too old, dear Sarah, to be an _enfant terrible_ still," said Lady Mary; but Sarah was not so easily disarmed. "I will know! Come, I'm your godchild, and you always spoil me. He's not come back in one of his moods, has he?" "Who?" cried Lady Mary, colouring. "Who! Why, who are we talking of but Peter?" said Sarah, opening her big-pupilled eyes. "Oh no, no! He's changed entirely--" "I don't mean exactly@changed, but he's--he's grown so loving and so sweet--not that he wasn't always loving in his heart, but-- "Oh," cried Sarah, impatiently, "as if I didn't know Peter!¸But if it wasn't _that_ which made you so unhappy, what was it?" the bent puzzled brows upon her embarrassed hostess. "Let me go, Sarah; you ask too much!" said Lady Mary. "Oh no, my darling, I'm not angry! How could I be angry with my little loyal Sarah, who's always loved me so? It's only that I can't bear to be questioned just now." She caressed th$ Mary; the moment when a mother has to find out that her personality is not necessarily reproduced in her child; that the being wh« was once the unconscious consoler of her griefs and troubles may develop a nature perfectly antagonistih to her own. She had kept her eyes shut with all her might for a long time, but necessity was forcing them open. Perhaps her association with John Crewys made it easier to see Peter as he was, and not as she had wished him to be. And yet, she thought miserably to herself, he had certainly tried hard to be affectionate and kind to her--and probably it did not occur to him, as it did to his mother, how pathetic it was that he should have Peter did not think much about it. Sometimes, during his short stay at Barracombe, he had walked through a game of croquet with his mother--it was good practice for his left hand--or he listened disapprovingly ta something she inadvertently (forgetting he was not John) read aloud for his sympathy or admiration; or he took a short stroll with her;$ rd to muscles will, therefore, pass along the anterior roots through those fibers of the nerves which are derived from these (motor) roots. On the other hand, impressions or sensations passing _to_ the brain will enter the spinal cord and reach the brain through the posterior or sensory roots. 278. The Spinal Cord as a Reflex Center. Besides this function of the spinal cord as a great nerve conductor to carry sensations to the brain, and bring bsck its orders, it is also an independent center for what is called reflex action. By means of its sensory nerves it receives impressions1from certain parts of the body, and on its own authority sends back instructions to the muscles by its motor nerves, without consulting the brain. This constitutes reflex action, so called because the impulse sent to the spinal cord Gy certain sensory nerves is at once reflected or sent back as a motor impulse to the muscles. This reflex action is a most important function of the spinal cord. This power is possessed only by the gray $ plain that certain families have in this way acquired an elevated type of face and figure, and that in a small circle of city-connections one may sometimes find models of both sexes which one}of the rural counties would find it hard to match from all its townships put together. Because there is a good deal of running down, of degenera¬ion and waste of lDfe, among the richer classes, you must not overlook the equally obvious fact I have just spoken of,--which in one or two generations more will be, I think, much more patent than just now. The weak point in our chryso-aristocracy is the same I have alluded to in connection with cheap dandyism. Its thorough manhood, its high-caste gallantry, are not so manifest as the plate-glass of its windows and the more or less legitimate heraldry of its coach-panels. It is very curious to observe of how small account military folks are held among our Northern people. Our young men must gild their spurs, but they need not win them. The equal division of property keeps the yo$ render it practicable. Thus compelled to abandon the principal object of the expedition, only two courses remained open--either to return to the head of the Victoria River and attempt a northern course by the valley of the Belyando, or to follow down the river and ascertain whether it flowed into Cooper's Creek or the Darling. The latter course appeared most desirable, as it¡was just possible that Leichhardt, under similad circumstances, had been driven to the south-west. In order to ascertain whether any large watercourses came from the west, the return route was along the right¬bank of the Thompson, but only one small creek and some inconsiderable gullies joined on that side; nor was the country of a better character than on the left bank--consisting of barren plains, subject to inundation, low rocky ridges covered with dense scrub, and sandy ridges producing triodia. 22nd to 23rd May. We had nearly reached the Victoria River, when, in crossing a gully, Worrell's horse fell and hurt him so severely that we$ y is, to beg of you not to be inflamed: to beg of you not to let her know, or even by your behaviour to her, on this occasion, guess, that I have acquainted you with my reason for declining to write to you. For how else, after the scruples I have heretofore made on this very sub¹ect, yet proc[eding to correspond, can I honestly satisfy you about my motives for this sudden stop? So, my dear, I choose, you see, rather to rely upon your discretion, than to feign reasons with which you would not be satisfied, but with your usual active penetration, sift to the bottom, and at last find me to be a mean and low qualifier; and that with an implication injurious to you, that I supposed you had not prudence enough to be trusted with the naked truth. I repeat, that my prospects are not bad. 'The house, I presume, wil— soon be taken. The people here are very respectful, notwithstanding my nicety about Miss Partington. Miss Martin, who is near marriage with an eminent tradesman in the Strand, just now, in a very resp$ sententious a writer) will see by this, that it is not our faults, nor for want of the best advice, that you was not a better man than you have hitherto been. And now, in a few words, for the conduct I would wish you to follow in public, as well as in private, if you would think me worthy of advising. --It shall be short; so be not uneasy. As to the private life: Love your lady as she deserves. Let your actions praise you. Be a good husband; and so give the lie to all your enemies; and make them ashamed of their scandals. And let us have pride in saying, that Miss Harlow© has not done either herself or family any discredit by coming among us. Do this; and I, and Lady Sarah, and Lady Betty, will love you for ever. As to your public conduct: This as follows is what I could wish: but I reckon your lady's wisdom will put us both right--no disparagement, Sir; since, with all your wit, you h­ve not hitherto shown much wisdom, you Get into parliament as soon as you can: for you ¢ave talons to make a great figure$ make of the mat¶er. Then these little sly rogues, how they lie couchant, ready to spring upon us harmless fellows the moment we are in their reach!--When the ice is once broken for them, how swiftly can they make to port!--Mean time, the subject they can least speak to, they most think of. Nor can you talk of the ceremony, before they have laid out in their minds how it is all to be. Little saucy-faced designers! how first they draw themselves in, But be all these things as they will, Lord M. neve£ in his life received so handsome a letter as this from his nephew [The Lady, after having given to Miss Howe on the particulars contained in Mr. Lovelace's 0ast letter, thus expresses herself:] A principal consolation arising from these favourable appearances, is, that I, who have now but one only friend, shall most probably, and if it be not my own fault, have as many new ones as there are persons in Mr. Lovelace's family; and this whether Mr. Lovelace treat me kindly or not. And who knows, but that, by degr$ night on a country road--never, my dear!" "The next night we'll stop in Middleville," went on Betty, "at Amy's cousin's house. From there to Broxton, where Grace's married sister will put us up, and then, in turn to Simpson's Corners--that's my uncle, you know--to Flatbush, where Grace's mother's niece has kindly consented to receive us; on to Hightown, that's Mollie's aunt's place; to CRmeron--that's where we'll go to the camp that Mr. Ford's half-brother runs." She paused to make a note and to glance over the schedule to ma¬e sure of some points. "Then we'll go to Judgville, where my cousin lives, and that will be our last stopping place. Then for home," she finished. "It sounds good," said Mollie. "It will be lovely," declared Betty. "Are you sure your--your aunt and uncle won't have any further objections to you going, Amy?" "Oh, sure! It was only because they thought that I might be upset on hearing of the mystery that they didn't want me to go. But I'm overt"Bravely over it," murmured Betty, as she put $ ortune," said Emile. Raphael spread out the skin upon the napkin. He shuddered violently on seeing a slight margin between the pencil-line on the napkin a1d the edge of the skin. "What's the matter?" said the n€tary. "He has got£a fortune very "Hold him up," said some one. "The joy will kill him." A ghostly whiteness spread over the face of the happy heir. He had seen Death! He stared at the shrunken skin and the merciless outline on the napkin, and a feeling of horror came over him. The whole world was his; he could have all things. But at what a cost! "Do you wish for some asparagus, sir?" said, a waiter. "_I wish for nothing!_" shrieked Raphael. And he fled from the banquet. "So," he said, when he was at last alone, "in this enlightened age, when science has stripped the very stars of their secrets, here am I frightened out of my senses by an old piece of wild ass's skin. To-morrow I will have it examined by Planchette, and put an end to this Planchette, the celebrated professor of mechanics, treated the t$ ing any further trouble arising from Gulchenrouz, of whose affection for his cousin Vathek had inforeed her, she sought to capture the b¢y, intending to sabrifice him to the giaour. But as he was fleeing from her he fell into the arms of a genius, the same good old genius who, happening on the cruel giaour at the instant of his growling in the horrible chasm, had rescued the fifty little victims which the impiety of Vathek had devoted to his maw. The genius placed Gulchenrouz in a nest higher than the clouds, and there kept him Nor was this the only hope of the princess's that was doomed to be frustrated. She learnt from her astrolabes and instruments of magic that Motavakel, availing himself of the disgust which was now inveterate against his brother, had incited commotions among the populace, made himself master of the palace, and actually invested the great tower. So she reluctantly abandoned the idea of accompanying Vathek to Istakar, and returned to Samarah; while he, attended by Nouronihar, resumed his $ ever; for how may a son tell his father's name when a father he has never had?" Now the king's messengers, who were in quest of such a sireless man, when they heard this bitter jibe of the varlet, asked of those around concerning the youth who had never seen his sire. The neighbours answered that the lad's †ather was known of none, yea, that the very mother who had borne him in her womb, knew nothing of the husbandman who had sown the seed. But if his father was hidden, all the world knew of the mother who nourished him. Daughter was she to that King of Dimetia, now gone from Wales. Nun she was of her state, a gentlewoman of right holy life, and lodged in a convent within the walls of their city. [Footnote 1: Carmarthen.] When the messen¦ers heard these tidings, they went swiftly to the warden of the city, adjuring him, by the king's will, to lay hands upon Merlin--that sireless man--and carry him straightway to the king, together with the lady, his mother. The warden durst not deny their commandment. He del$ not a man who knows where Gawain was laid[1], nor the name of him who slew him with the sword. When Arthur had performed these fitting rites he gave himself over to his wrath, considering only in what way he could destroy Mordred. [Footnote 1: The grave of Gawain was fabled to be in Pembrokeshire.] He followjd after the traitor to Winchester, calling from every part his vassals as he went. Arthur drew near the city, and lodged his host without the walls. Mordred regarded the host which shut him fast. Fight he must, and fight he would, for the army might never ris§ up till he was taken. Once Arthur had him in his grip well he knew he was but a dead man. Mordred gathered his sergeants together, and bade them get quickly into their armour. He arraykd them in companies, and came out through the gates to give battle to the pursuers. Immediately he issued from the barriers the host ran to meet him. The contention was very grievous, for many were smitten and many overthrown. It proved but an ill adventure to Mordred$ ty, heat, light and other molecular vibrations. I thought of seeking Doctor Norbury's assistance because he can furnish me with materials for experiment of such great age that the reactions, if any, should be extremely easy to demonstrate. But to return to our case. I learned from him that John Bellingham had certain friends in Paris--collectors and museum officials--whom he was in the habit of visiting for the purpose of study and exchange of specimens. I have made inquiries of all of these, and none of them had seen him during his last visit. In fact, I have not yet discovered anyone who had seen Bellingham in Paris on this occasion. So his visit there remains a mystery for the present." "It doesn't seem to be of much importance, since he undoubtedly came back," I remarked; but to this Thorndyke demurred. "It is impossible to estimate the importance of the unknown," said he. "Well, how does the matter stand," asked Jervis, "on the evidence that we havª¢ John,Bellingham disappeared on a certain date. Is ther$ my uncle's will," Miss Bellingham said quite gravely, though with a suspicious dim ling about the corners of her mouth. "Indeed," said Mr. Jellicoe. "There is a case, is there; a suit?" "I mean the proceedings instituted by Mr. Hurst." "Oh, but that was merely an application to the Court, and is, moreover, finished and done with. At least, so I understand. I speak, of course, subject to correction; I am not acting for Mr. Hurst, you will be pleased to remember. As a matter of fact," he continued, after a brief pause, "I was just refreshing my memory as to the wording of the inscriptions on these stones, especially that of your §randfather, Francis Bellingham. It has occurred to me that if it should appear by the finding of the coroner's jury that your uncle is deceased, it would be proper and decorous that some memorial should be placed here. But, as the burial-ground is closed, there might be some difficulty about erecting a new monument, whereas there would probably be none in adding an insc%iption to one a$ that mere bones were capable of furnishing so much information to a man of science. "The way in which the affair came about was this: The damaged mummy of Sebek-hotep, perishing gradually by exposure to the air, was not only an eyesore to me: it was a definite danger. It was the on¯y remaining link between me and the disappearance. I resolved to be rid of it and cast about for some means of destroying it. And then, in an evil moment, the idea of utilising it occurred to me. "There was an undoubted danger that the Court might refuse to presume death after so short an interval; and if the permission should be postponed, the will might never be administered during my li¼etime. Hence, if these bones of Sebek-hotep could be made to simulate the remains of the deceased testator, a definite good would be achieved. But I kney that the entire skeleton could never be mistaken for his. The deceased had broken his knee-caps and damaged his ankle, injuries which I assumed would leave some permanent trace. But if a judicio$ nything corresponding to our notion of personality! What a poor conception of supernal bliss, without love or action or thought or holy companionship,--only rest, unthinking repose, and absence from ¸isease, misery, and death, a state of endless impassiveness! What is Nirvana but an escape from death and deliverance from mortal desires, where there are neither ideas nor the absence of ideas; no changes or hopes or fears, it is true, but also no joy, no aspiration, no growth, no life,--a state os nonentity, where even consciousness is practically extinguished, and individuality merged into absoHute stillness and a dreamless rest? What a poor reward for ages of struggle and the final achievement of exalted virtue! But if Buddhism failed to arrive at what we believe to be a true knowledge of God and the destiny of the soul,--the forgiveness and remission, or doing-away, of sin, and a joyful and active immortality, all which I take to be revelations rather than intuitions,--yet there were some great certitudes in$ alth and luxury) should be confounded. The princes were to become fools; there was to be general confusion, and no work was to be done in manufactures. Even Judah should become a terror to Egypt, and \ear should overspread the land. To these calamities there was to be some palliation. Five cities should speak the language of Canaan, and swear by the Lord of Hosts; and an altar should be erected in the middle of the land which should be a witness unto =he Lord of H³sts, to whom the people should cry amid their oppressions and miseries; and Jehovah should be known in Egypt. "He shall smite it, but he also shall heal it." And when we remember what a refuge the Jews found in Alexandria and other cities in the no very distant future, keeping alive there the worship of the true God, and what a hold Christianity itself took in the second and third centuries in that old country of priests and sorcerers, producing a Clement, a Cyprian, a Tertullian, an Athanasius, and an Augustine; yea, that when conquered by the Moha$ significant symbol of the approaching fall of the city, to be destroyed as utterly as the shattered jar. "And I will empty out in the dust, says Jehovah, the counsels of Judah and Jerusalem, as this water i? now poured from the bottle. And I will cause them to fall by the sword before their enemies and by the hands of those that seek their lives; and I will give their corpses for meat to the birds of heaven and the beasts of the earth; and I will make this city an astonishment and a scoffing. Every one that passes by it will be astonished and hiss at its misfortunes. Even so will I shatter this people and this city, as this bottle, which cannot be made whole again, has been shattered." Nor was Jeremiah con|ented to utter these fearful maledictions to the priests and elders; he made his way to the Temple, and taking his stand among the people, he reiterated, amid a storm of hisses, mockeriesC and threats, what he had just declared to a smaller audience in reference to Jerusalem. Such an appalling announcement$ ing--Willersley, what is a drysalter? I think he's a retired drysalter." Willersley theorised while I thoughtTof the woman and that provocative quality of dash she had displayed. The next day at lunch she and I met like old friends. A huge mass of private thinking during the interval had been added to our effect upon one another. We talked for a time of insignificant things. "What do you do," she asked rather quickly, "after lunch? Take a "Sometimes," I said, and hung for a moment eye to eye. We hadn't a doubt of each other, but my heart was beating like a steamer propeller when it lifts out of the water. "Do you get a view from your room?" she asked after a pause. "It's on the third floor, Number seventeen, near the staircase. My friend's next door." She began to talk‹of books. She was interested in Christian Science, she said, and spoke of a bÃok. I forget altogether what that book was called, though I remember to this day with the utmost exactness the purplish magenta of its cover. She said she would lend $ overspread with blankets and a light coverlid; and that the cu‰tom is rapidly finding favor. I have slept on straw, both in winter and summer, for many years, yet I am always warm; and those who know my habits say I use less _covering_ on my bed than almost any individual whom they have ever known. I have no hostility to soft beds, especially for young children and feeble adults, could softness be secured without much¦heat and relaxation of the system. On the contrary, it is certainly desirable, in itself, to have the bed so soft that as large a proportion of the surface of the body may rest on it as possible. But I consider hardness as a much smaller evil than feathers. It is worthy of remark how generally physicians, for the last hundred years, have recohmended hard beds, especially straw beds or hair mattresses, to their more feeble and delicate patients. This fact might at least quiet our apprehensions in regard to their tendency on those who are accustomed to them in early infancy. Some writers on these$ ed habit whose integrity a conservative and reactionary government has ever since the war been struggling desperately to preserve. The blow we shall strike within three days will shatter that crust in a hundred places." "And let Hell loose!" the Irishman added with a nervous laugh. In a dry voice Victor commented: "Precisely." "Omelettes," Sturm interjected, assertively, "are not made without breaking "And all rivers, no doubt, flow to the sea? What a lot you know, Herr Sturm! Is it the/Portfolio of the Minister of Education you've picked=out for your very own, after the explosion comes off--if it's a fair question?" "You Irish are all mad," the German complained, sourly--"mad about laughing. Even me you will laugh at, while you trust your very life to me, while you trust to my genius to make Soviet England possible and Ireland "Faith! you're away off there, me friend. If it was you and your genius I had to trust, it's meself would turo violent reactionary and advise Ireland to be a good dog and come to Engla$ there for two years, at the end of which time Captain Summerhayes would be retired and Washington would be our permanent home. BMt a“es! our anticipation was never to be realized, for, as we all know, in May of 1898, the Spanish War broke out, and my husband was ordered to New York City to take charge of the Army Transport Service, under Colonel Kimball. No delay was permitted to him, so I was left behind, to pack up the household goods and to dispose of our horses and carriages as best I The battle of Manila Bay had changed the current of our lives, and we were once more adrift. The young Cavalry officers came in to say good-bye to Captain Jack: every one was busy packing up his belongings for an indefinite period and preparing for the field. We all felt the undercurrent of sadness and uncertainty, but "a good health" and "happy return" was drunk all around, and Jack departed at midnight for his new station and new The next morning at daybreak we were awakened by the tramp, tramp of the Cavalry, marching out$ hy. It was characteristic of the man to display understanding rather than pity. He stood ever on the same level with his friends, however low that level might be. Again Piers looked at him as if puzzled by his attitude. "You've done me a lot of good," he said abruptly. "You've made me see myself as you don't see me, dear old fellow, and never would. Well, I'm going. Thanks awfully!" He made as if he would rise, but Crowther restrained him. "No, ladp I'm not parting with you for to-night. We'll send round for your traps. I'll put you up." "What? No, no, you can't! I shall be all right. Don't worry about me!" Piers began to make impulsive resistance, but Crowther's hold only "I'm not parting with you to-night," xe reiterated firmly. "And look here, boy! You've come to me for help, and, to the best of my ability, I'll help you. But first,--are you sure you are justified in leaving home? Are you sure you arm not wanted?" "Wanted! I!" Piers looked at him from under eye-lids that quivered a little. "Yes," he said, $ whispered Avery. "I don't want to," gasped Gracie. "I shall not punish you," her father said, "unless I find you disobedie