The Aberdare Times

G THE SHOALS; OR, CED BY A PORTRAIT. BY CYRIL HATHWAY. CHAPTEB I. 6 this brief story opens—now a little *7 years ago—a quaint old place was luare, nestling in the very heart of the )f Northville. Leaving the busy street stranger found himself in a paved quiet, so full of fantastic houses, with >es and diamond paned windows, that fed to have been flung back some three 78 of the cathedral spire filled St. ■e from end to end at eventide, and when lown, and the shades of night crept from ■hanging gables and grim archways, a pressive silence reigned. It was more the hum of traffic in the city, a droning the echoes of the busy day had con- ihange confidences in some retired spot; y could not have chosen a more secluded oseph's Square, where life seemed at a the glimmer of a few lights high up in ndows alone spake of its existence and had been famous in its time. Its worn re-echoed the footsteps of many a fair, .dy, and gallant noble; its walls had 10 strains of music and the sweetness ghter as faithful knight, worn with con. ad with triumph, returned to reap the 3088. aph's had known its troubles. It had Roundheads with avenging swords 'tauneh-hearttd Cavaliers, who refused :e the Commonwealth and defIed their oyally in honour of their lawful king, women and children sobbed out their to Heaven, shoulder to shoulder stood 3 kinsmen, prefering death to dishonour, d flowed as water, a*d the pale moon upon the once peaceful homes veiled t1 sorrow behind a cloud, for stiff and flagstones lay the representatives ef house. is scythe had mown down year after h scenes became a matter of history, and Ambling, decayed, yet sturdy in old age, of a few quietly-disposed people—people quaintness, its wealth of forgotten art, MB, and the rest it gave from the glare broad streets which had sprung up with Iwth; and shunned the out-of-the-way thing to be ashamed of—just as men.of It old acquaintances who have fallen in ife and lie wounded to the heart's core, BP* in and ends all care and sorrow in a of grace, 1820, there lived in the midst of aietude and seclusion a family bearing 8 Caux. They were four in number. latU, a venerable grey-haired man; on were deep-set lines, showing that he had ion sorrow. His wife, an elderly dame, n excellent match for the man of re- and her love and pride were in the 'k-eyed youth, her son Richard and shter, a lovely, simple-minded girl, whose lose of her parents', and whose heart de. ■sing them in all things. ard was engaged at a bank not far from oDd premised to make his way in the remained at home, ever busy, uncom- cheerful while the old people, who *eir home, save on Sundays, when the iral found them worshipping devoutly, i with the society of their children, and as the days were long. Ethel were born in St. Joseph's Square, IX'S had lived there many years. Nobody given themselves the trouble to ask ne from. They were civil, they paid their was enough to gain them the respect and yet people would point at the pre- man and shake their heads, as much as carries a great secret in his heart I" and sips avowed that Richard De Caux had mensely rich, but had lost all in one tion. If he ever read his neighbours' leard the rumours, he never mentioned urently gave heed to them. iger days he had studied painting, and in artist, found eolace of mind and quiet the pleasant occupation. Many of his ted considerable ability, and one among ccited the attention of his son on more sion. Strait of a sallow, gloomy.looking man, Ie ng pheek-bones seemed to cast a shadow s st° sunken eyes. Cau* C0Vered up at one end of the room thf> ,w°i"ked in, and though seldom th;/ A0* the family, the old man would Used' » r?8u^ his work, for hours,' itK 7.. ar' involuntarily and turn away lth quivering lips and trembling hands. ()b questioned him as to the original of out so sharp and passionate was the "e young man, alarmed and abashed, re- portrait of a man who wronged another," • "Take heed, Richard, that your path framed that you will have nothing to re* If with in your declining days." een the picture but twice, and then with here was an expression in the features id perhaps faithfully pourtrayed, that avoid gazing upon them. There it stood, stand, enclosed in its green-baize 1 she endeavoured to blot it out of her e Caux it is necessary to say a few more describing the first aoene of this short nstory. + er^ow<rd with such charms and beauty .attention was what only could be ex- of many suitors she had selected Her- ug, the son and heir of a well-to-do ho? rna?ch was approved of by both loTely. accomplished, and domes- r handsome lover's worldly prospects e average, it was natural that her reel aglow of pleasure that when called j is w°rld, they would know that their IT **W-e^ Provided for; while on the r. Mainwaring, believing that the De relics of an ancient and respectable ?° obstacle in his son's way, though in nsned there had been "money on both v,r, the young people were perfectly L**° other; and if all went well, the 'ng would see them wedded. Ie winter season of the year, and such a tell of hard weather could not be remem- F the most aged,—changing from rain on 'e, to snow and frost lasting for weeks aning of the new year, without inter- cry of anguish went up from the poor 1e land, a cry telling of a people tortured of oold and starvation. ? in January had passed away, and busi- !re over, when young Richard de Caux Mainwaring wended their way through treet towards St. Joseph's Square. w anxious to get home to announce that 8 had given him an increase of salary; other hand, Herbert was burning to take 'J™' and tell her that on that very day « purchased a pleasant little villa for -side the city. w very happy. His heart was light; he with elastic footsteps, and pleasantly uture brother-in-law on his slowness of imes we will have, Dick!" Herbert in-arm they turned into the archway of square. The house that is to be Ethel's Wt a sloping lawn running down to the arse we shall keep a boat, and on summer will make up jolly parties—rowing and mow. IS Caux smiled at his friend's enthusiasm. Vou arf K°mg to live so near 1* he re- I could not bear Ethel to be far awav » her very much as it is." Y' Ire"b™1''le ie»loa. of d»k thi. old pl&e i„luW'K»"«"hg. ad moans like a restless spirit T riLii thinking that gladne^ la £ ^ays where Ethel dwells. I love its darkness and its shadows," De Caux. "There is romance in every :anny-a something that appeals to the I and makes one banish all thought that live in is so full of rude shocks and dis- s. For my own part I should be con- i in quaint old St. Joseph's Square all my it a misconstruction on my speech," Her. aring said, stopping short. I did not lilt a reflection on your home, dear as I to you. Have I no reason to love it, its walls not shelter your sister, who is If life to me?" tand you thoroughly," Richard De Caux aw! This would be a dull and stupid were all constituted alike. But here we or; and here comes Ethel with a light te way up a staircase with more timber in it f9und in the whole of one of your modern ^-opened, &nd the young men passed into hall, a whirl of snow-flakes and a cutting d reminded them of what they had left they were not sorry to be seated at the 1 tea-table. his story to tell, and as the firelight rose ting warm shadows upon the oak-panelled was at least one happy group assembled oseph's Square. over, the elder De (Caux retired to his Ie fireside. He was a man of very «id had even little to say on this occasion, lerstood him, and as they chatted merrily, oaatlea of endless hope and joy, the pre. old 1 was almost forgotten He sat as they had often seen him his hands upon r his knees, and his eyes fixed pensively on the fire, e The hour of ten struck, and it was now time for Herbert Mainwaring to take his leave. He did so. stopping to give Ethel a kiss at the door, and then j away into the darkness of the storm, laughing as it hustled him about rather unceremoniously, and [ without giving a thought to two stalwart men, who t passed him silentlv, and melted away into the gloom. Ethel had returned to the room, and was in the act t of bidding her parents good night, when there came j. a loud knocking at the door—a knocking that brought f out all the echoes of the old house and startled its occupants.. g Who can this be? Richard said, catching up a light I'll run down. Perhaps somebody has wan- dered into the Square by mistake, and cannot hnd his way out." Downstairs he went, with his heart beating quicker than usual, though he could not tell why, and even hesitated as he drew the bolts, and lifted the ancient latch. Before he could utter a word there was a man on each side of him, their hands upon his shoulders, and he felt instantly by their touch that 1 they had come armed with the authority of the law. ] "In the name of Heaven Richard De Cauxcontrived to articulate, what is the meaning of this ?" 1 Don't be afraid, youngster," said one of the men we shan't harm you, if you keep quiet and answer our questions. To put matters on a clearer footing, 1 ] may as well explain who we are. My name is ( Fenton; my friend is John Dibbley, and we are < officers from Bow-street. What is yowr name ? "DeCaux." 1 Son of Richard De Caux ?" queried Fenton, while j his companion went to the base of the staircase and listened. "The same." ) "Ah! "said Fenton, drawing a deep breath, and ( looking compassionately at the young man; we j have business with your father, and must see him. < So lead the way to where we can find him, or there will be unpleasantness, which will be regretted by all parties." One moment!" Richard said, pressing his hand to his brow, where beads of cold perspiration had started. Just one word Tell me what you want 1 with my father. I have a right to know, surely." "Now, look here, my lad," said Fenton; "I'll tell you nothing—only this. If you don't do as you are told, why—click! will go these handcuffs on your wrists, and you'll find yourself in the eare of two other J men we've got waiting at the entry of this coal-hole- like square. Which is it to be—upstairs er outside ? It doesn't matter much to UII, only we would rather not have any fuss." Come with me," said Itichard, rebuking his vague fears with the thought—" Tush What has my father to dread? Hebaaledablameleaalife. These fellows have made a stupid mistake, for which they must apologise." Ethel and her mother were seated side by side, and they stared in amazement at Richard and the two un- welcome guests, but the elder De Caux's back was turned towards the door, and he saw nothing and apprehended nothing until his son said, "Father, these men wish to speak to you;" and then, wheeling his chair slowly round, an awful cry, and the words, Oh, God to think this should come at last! burst from his lips, and his face drooped into his trembling hands. "Come, don't give way I" said Fenton. Think of the ladies- Your servant, ma'am and miss. Why you ought to be proud to think that you have baffled the lot of us for twenty years or more, and I'll be bound that no judge will send you back, though-" Send him back," Richard cried, turning from one to the other. Mother, if father has nothing to say, speak, or I shall go mad? "She knows," De Caux said in a hollow voice, as he raised his face "but the story should oome from me." There isn't time to tell it properly now;" Fenton aaid, with a show of impatience, "they can see you to-morrow." He advanced a step, but Richard threw himself in the way, saying— "I'll know the meaning of this fearful mystery," he said. Beware what you do, for my blood is up, and I have the strength of twenty men!" Ethel had fainted, and lay upon a couch without sense or motion, and her mother bending over her bathed her fair face with tears of agony, but said never a word. "Well, then," said Tenton, calmly, "the truth must out, sooner or later, and it may as well fall from my lips. Henry Clare—alias De Caux—the man who sits there, is an eseaped conviot, and here is my war- rant for his arrest. Stand aside, young man, or the consequences will rest on your own head. The blood left Richard's face, his limbs gave way, and without a word or sign that he had heard the officer's speech, he fell on his knees at the feet; of the man whom he had loved so dearly and called by the sacred'name of father "See here," said Fenton to the old man; "why couldn't you say we had business with you and walk out quietly ? 1 wish this could have been donejCmore quietly." An instantaneous change came over the elder^De Caux. Quietly," he repeated, with a child-like whim- per "yes, I'll go quietly. But don't put me to work to-day—those chains have eaten into my flesh. Leek at my wrists. Ah it is cruel—cruel! Where is.the doctor ? I am not fit te gc road-mending to-day j" "He's gone daft, as sure as I'm a sinner," Fenton said in an excited manner. "Now then, Dibbley, take that light and we will get downstairs we are wasting time." "Father," Richard cried, as he wrung his handajn a paroxysm of agony; "speak to ma. In the name of all the sacred ties that are between us, tell me that these men have made a great mistake ?" But the old man continued to babble incoherently, and Richard gazed in horror at his mother, who hade sunk down on the couch beside Ethel. "Go to her, if you are her son, Dibbley cried do you not see that the is ill. Mine are not ,;the handa that should touch her now.' Richard ran to his mother's side, and took.her in his arms. The old lady's eyes were closed, and her face so white and ghastly, that it seemed to bear the stamp of death upon it; but as the young man gazed in indescribable horror, and trembling in every limb, a deep-drawn sigh escaped his mother s lipt. Life had not fled, but it flickered faintly, 'and all save Ethel, and the now childish old man who con- tinued to babble and whimper that he was not fit to work, knew the end could not be far off. Are there no people about here who will render assistance ? Fenton asked. Young Richard waved his hands towards the Square, to imply that they were known by all who lived within its precincts. I "Quick, thenl" said the detective, "We'll rous the neighbours fast enough. It seems to me that we are only in the way here. "Just Heaven!" Richard exclaimed, "this is murder Father—dear father-look upon me, your aon I— Appalled and stupified by the ghastly spectacle of a hale and hearty man transformed into a drivelling idiot; horrified at his mother's sudden illness, Richard saak under the weight of his woes, and burst into a fit ef tears that racked his frame, and seemed to be drawn from his very heart. Hearing strange voices, he knew that people were in the room; that Ethel and his mother were being ) cared for but the paroxysm of grief left him without power even to utter his thanks, and day had dawned when he staggered to his feet, and went to the window. Surely he had been sleeping, and all the events of the previous night were but the result of a hideous dream Alas, no He was alone in the room, and the house was very quiet—so quiet that he could plainly hear the snow- flakes rustling against the window-panes, and the beating of his heart was audible. There was silence in the street beyond St. Joseph's Square, and the smouldering embers of the fire, which some hand had replenished, fell with many a dismal rustle. And in the dim light of that snowy morn how lowly sank the soul of the young man—his mother all hut dead his fathar furnished with a name unknown to him, and branded a felon. It was a hideous faroe, mocking sudden madness, call it what you will—any- thing but the truth. Richard De Caux started, as a hand was placed lightly on his shoulder, and wheeling round, ho found himself face to face with Herbert Mainwaring. Of all men in the world" Richard cried out, in another burst of anguish, "you are the last man I wished to see just now "Why, in the name of common sense?" Main- waring said, having gleamed some particulars respec- ting the arrest. "Come, come! This is a terrible blow but there may be a silver lining even to this dark cloud." What can give me back my father's good name?— who shall restore my mother's health?" Richard wailed. "And so Herbert, you, too, have heard the news. Tell me—I can bear anything now—the truth of this dreadful secret; how it has been kept, and what will be the end of it." "I have heard but disjointed reports," Herbert Mainwaring replied. 'Tis said that twenty-six years ago, a man named Henry Clare was convicted of forgery, and sentenced to transportation for life, that he escaped, changed his name and is Alas for him and us all, the truth cannot bo denied, Herbert Mainwaring." "But tell me," said Richard, "how his arrest has Tn^^ w^ter so many years. If he is really the r>°U y they not take him before? S16 authoritieB were thrown off the tion was sent^ repUed- "My dear Richard, informa- England tbat:Y onres if.°t.rom the AustraliAn police to England that one" IfchLrd Clare ha.d escaped, and. thus broken the conditions ° STIY!"6 °F WU°H » C HWEB,.°HH„^S& De CraI ™iJ' It seems, Heibert Mainwaring continued "that Clare obtained work, and by dint of honesty and attention became possessed of a considerable amount of money, with which he escaped, and^ amoun'1 "On which we have been living here," Richard said, dismally. Do you think the account you have heard is correct ? Yes. But hush here comes one of the men who Fenton walked very leisurely up the staircase, and stood bareheaded in the doooway. May I come in ? he asked. Richard De Caux laughed ironically. You were not so particular about asking permission last night he said. This-Ob, God !-tbis is no longer my home." See here, now," said Fenton advancing, and placing his hands kindly on Richard's shoulders. You are a fine stalwart young fellow, one who is likely to make his way anywhere. I don't say that this is not a bitter pill to swallow, but men have got over worse things. Thero art other landa apross the soa where you may live to retrieve all save your own memory 01 cms areaaiui t affair. j My father Richard groaned. "I was coming to him," Fenton said, We've got him, and yet in a measure we haven't got him. He's past pleading on earth—don't flinch, man. He is harmless, and is living the past over again. I have brought you an order to see him." Richard's head had drooped upon his breast, but tears no longer fell from his eyes. The well of grief had dried up, and left a nameless pain that gnawed and tugged at the young man's heart strings. "Think of your mother and sister," Fenton was saying, when Ethel entered the room, and the de- tective, with a respectful inclination of his head, walked to the table and turned over the leaves of a book. Richard," Ethel said, our mother wishes us to be near her now. Come, it may be too late. She is dying." "Ethel," Herbert Mainwariifg cried, "do you not see me ? This awful visitation has made no alteration in me. I am here, loving you as I have always loved you. You are still all the world to me, my darling. Ethel made no reply, but pointing to the door of the room in which her mother lay, took her brother Richard by the arm and led him away. The life that had trembled in the balance all the hours of the weary night was waning fast. Mrs: De Caux, as we still must call her, was indeed dying and, as her children knelt at the bedside, she stretched out her feeble hands and placed them on their heads and blessed them. "It is not this hour I have dreaded," she said, "for I can cross my hands humbly and commend my soul to Him who gave me life. Richard, I am commencing that journey we all must take, and I cannot tell you all I would, for my strength and voice are failing. But rest assured of this, your father is innocent of the crime he was accused of—as innocent as you are, my child. He was the dupe of a wily villain—his partner—Ah 'tis night again. Hush Let me fall asleep." "Mother," Richard said, "Nay, nay. Speak to me. Tell me that man's name." These words roused the dying woman, and she con. tinued to speak, but her voice grew fainter and fainter. His name was "(here she whispered in his ear, as if afraid to mention the name aloud)—"but it matters little," she said. "If alive there i-.n8 legal proof of his guilt, and—and it was given out that he died in Australia, four years after—after your father was dragged to a living death. Your father wrote his version, and doubtless the true one, of the terrible mis- fortune. You will find the papers in the secret drawer of the bureau, which stands in his study. I can tell no more, my voice grows faint. Ethel, come nearer, my eyes are din, and I cannot see you." The poor girl, sobbing as if her heart would break, threw her arms round her mother's neek, and placed her tearful cheek against the one growing so eold. "I so loved your father," the dying mother said, "that when he escaped from his cruel fate I took the name he assumed. You, my darling, my hope, my pride, must remember this; for God knows that there is no stain upon you or your brother, though the hard- hearted world may turn its back upon you. If Herbert Mainwaring loves you-loves you for yourself alone, he will make you his wife. I commend you to his care. I charge him not to reproach you for the deceit that has been practised, for you are innocent of that. That rests with me, and your unhappy father. You say Herbert is here. Quick let me see him. Hasten, for I am going away Richard rose, and summoned Herbert Mainwaring, and he, taking the dying woman's hand, pressed it reverently to his lips. Herbert," Mrs. De Caux said, You know all. There is nothing to hide, nothing to tell but the truth of a long and dismal story, which may be revealed one day. My daughter is here. Speak, and tell me whether your heart-has-haa changed towards her." "No, by Heaven Herbert Mainwaring replied. "This misfortune has bound my heart closer to hers than ever. A terrible curse would fall upon me if I left her in such sorrow." "Then there is no pain in dying thus," Mrs. De Caux said. Kiss me, Richard—Ethel—Herbert— Tell — your — father— that—I—will—meet—him—at Heaven's gate. Yes, yes, I come—I am ready They thought that she had fallen asleep, for a smile was on her lips, and it was only when they spoke in vain, and endeavoured to rouse her gently that they knew she was dead, and then as the truth dawned upon them and they stood in silence, not daring to move, a sudden burst of sunshine flooded the cham- ber, and a bird fluttered for a moment at the window and soared away. (To be continued.)

THE LARGE BELLS OF DIFFERENT COUNTRIES. In noticing the preparations for raising "Great Paul in its place, the Daily News remarks :— Another step is thus taken towards the completion in all its details of Wren's great work. The bell-tower was built for one of the largest bells in the kingdom, and it will now possess the very largest. If the good fortune which haa already attended the bell still waits upon it, the public may expect soon to hear its clear toae floating over London. "Great Paul" is the heaviest bell which has ever been hung in this country; it is said to be the heaviest which is anywhere actually to be rung by swinging it, instead of being merely struck, as "Big Ben" is, by a hammer as it hangs. Great Paul" is the largest bell in this country, and consequently occupies no insignificant place among the great bells of the world. The bell is broad rather than high. It measures rather less than nine feet in height, but the diameter at its base ie, nine feet and a half. Its actual weight is 16 tons 14 cwt. 2 qrs. 191b. Big Ben weighs nearly three tons less than this; while Great Peter" in York Minster, weighs but ten tons and three- quarters; "Great Tom," at Lincoln, only reaches five tons and a half, and the laige bell already in St. Paul's five tons and a tenth. Theae are the chief bells which have been cast in this country, and the two bells which will reply to each other from the Clock Tower at Westminster and the Bell Tower of St. Paul's are consequently very far the largest we possess. Much more ambitious castings have been made in foreign countries. There are bells at Olmutz, Rouen, and Vienna which weigh eighteen tons. There is also one at Rouen, which was cast in 1501, which is a few pounds less than "Great Paul." The largest bell on the American Continent is in the Roman Catholic Cathedral at Montreal. The great belt at Pekin, which is fourteen feet in height and thirteen feet in diameter is said to contain fifty- three and a half tons of metal. There are two at Moscow which dwarf even this magnificent casting. One of these, which was moulded in 1819, is said to weight eighty tons, and is the largest bell the sound of which is ever heard, though, we believe, it is only chimed, and no attempt is made to ring it. The monster which dwarfs all others is in the same city, and is called the Monarch. It is the king of bells, but it is a bell no longer. It was cast in 1734, and its height and diameter, which are equal, are twenty-one feet, and its weight was HI3 tons. "Great Paul might hang in this huge bell in place of the clapper. The Great Bell of Moscow was success- fully hung in its place in 1734, but in 1131 a fire took place in the tewer, and the monster fell, bringing down everything with it, and burying itself in the earth. It lay broken in the ruius for a hundred years, and in 1831 was raised out and placed on walls, so that it now forms the dome of a chapel which has been excavated underneath it. The new bell, now to be added to the peal of St. Paul's is of a shape and weight to give great volume and penetration to its sound. Its note is E flat, and its tone is said to be exceedingly clear. It will probably be clearly audible over all the metro- politan area.

THE ELECTRIC LIGHT IN A ROCK-SALT MINE.— One of the largest of the salt mines at Northwich, the Witton Hall Mine, is, during the present week, open for the inspeotlon of visitors, and is illuminated by the electric light. Sixteen large lamps, each giving a light equal to 2,000 candles, have been placed in various parts of the mine, and particularly in the place where the men are at work, making the subterranean walls and ceiling glisten like the spar rock in some of the Derbyshire mines. The lights have been supplied by the Hammond Electric Supply Company, and the motive power for the dynamo machine is obtained by passing a band round part of the ordinary machinery belonging to the mine. The lamps are all supplied with the electricity necessary for them by one wire, and all are thus connected with each other. This, however, dees not prevent their being worked separately, as each lamp can be taken down or put out without the others having to be touched.

RËLÍõious STATISTICS IN FIJI.—In his official report upon the Fiji Blue Book, Mr. IhuriitotJ, Colonial Secretary, tstiinates that 103,000 out of the 124,902 persons le.^refenting the entire population of the colony, are W^slevans. Members of the Church of ngland number 1,900 only, and Roman Catholics 9,000. There are stated to be in the colony twelve lkoman Catholic priests, two ministers of the Church ot Jingland, and nine Wesleyan missionaries. The labours of these iunctionaries, so far as they are of a missionary character, would seem to be drawing to a close, as Mr. Thurston puts down the "unknown and miP°w0ni °* 'he population as now only V 1 j "missionaries are said to have 1,208 chapels and other places of worship the Roman Catholics 57.1

LORD DERBY ON HOSPITALS. Speaking at the opening of a bazaar and fancy fair at Stanley Park, Liverpool, on Monday, in aid of Stanley Hospital, Lord Derby, who was received with much applause, said they could not put a holiday to a better use than by coupling enjoyment with the sup- port of an undertaking which commends itself to the sympathies of all. It would be only what people called burning daylight" if he were to talk about the utility of hospitals or the necessity of their existence. They, perhaps, were the only form of charity absolutely free from the suspicion of imposture. In addition to their direct good, they conferred indirectly an immense advantage on the community, because they were schools of professional teaching by which all classes profited and by whioh no class profited more than that of the comparatively wealthy, who, except as visitors, were never likely to set foot in an hospital. It was by the bedside of the hospital patient that the eminent physician or the eminent surgeon acquired a large part of the skill which he used in the relief of his wealthy patient. Many people said that hospitals ought to be made more self-supporting, said the noble lord. He agreed in that view, and would be glad to see them at least partially become so. He should be very glad to see some provision made for that numerous and im- portant class who, while they could not afford to pay largely for medical relief, were yet honourably unwilling to aocept charity, and who might—and, under an improved system, ought to—make some provision for themselves in that respect by a mode- rate payment beforehand. That waa a movement whieh had taken hold of the public mind and which was advancing, but it was a movement which bad not yet altogether made its way; and as people would suffer from accidents and would fall ill, how- ever movements prospered or whatever delay occurred, it was quite clear that in the meanwhile they must keep up the hospitals on the eld footing. When a man fell ill or suffered an accident they could not stop to inquire whether he could afford to pay for being cured. They must practically try to pu him right in the first place and consider afterwards who was to pay the bill. tie did not talk about the right to relief, because rights were vague and inde- finite things, especially in these days. But when a man was suffering, the common feelings of humanity would not allow them to see him suffering whether he could afford to pay for his cure or not. While that feeling continued—and he did not think it likely to cease in our time—it was evident there must be hospitals which were not self-supporting and which required to be maintained by appeals to the public, and if that was the case, those appeals to be successful must be freely and frequently made. In remarking upon the objection some people had to raising money bv means of a bazaar, Lord Derby said that he could not say he ever could see why. It seemed to him a bazaar was a very good means of throwing the net rather wider than they could do otherwise and getting a larger number of people to contribute who did not contribute when they simply appealed by means of circulars or begging- letters. Anybody familiar with the charities of a large town must have observed as a curious fact that nearly all the work was done by a comparatively small number of people, and that the great bulk of the well- to-do persons contrived to escape. That was just what they wanted to prevent, and he had not the least doubt that they should get many contributions which they would not have got in any other way.

A MISER'S HOARD. To allow oneself to die literally of hunger, and to j suffer the slow tortures of such a death stretched upon a mattress in which are sewn up nearly a couple of thousand pounds, is to carry a miserly love of money to an unusual stretch (says the Evening Standard). This, however, was the self-inflicted fate of an elderly woman, whose condition had been so pitiable for many years past, that her neighbours in the wretched lodging-house where she lived in Paris had, poor though they were, given her food and clothing from time to time, believing her to be absolutely destitute. Even the landlord of the house had charit- ably forgone the payment of the rent for her garret, little thinking that a small fortune was concealed within its poverty-stricken walls. A few days ago, the woman not having been seen for some time, the room door was forced open in the presence of the f>olice superintendent, and she was found ying dead on the bed. A doctor called in certified that she had died from starvation, and after the funeral the few articles of furniture in the garret were disposed of to a brie-li brae dealer. When the latter had taken the goods home be discovered the miser's hoard hidden in the mattress, amounting in gold, securities, and bank notes to but little less than fifty thousand francs. Being an honest man he informed the authoiities of the discovery he had made, and inquiries have been set on foot to ascertain whether the deceased had any relatives alive to inherit the property which was of such little use to her during her lifetime.

FROZEN MEAT from NEW ZEALAND. The Timet ot May 27th published the following interest- ing letter :— Sir,—We beg to inform you that the sailing vessel Dutiedin, belonging to the Albion Shipping Company, has just arrived in the East India Docks with the first consignment of frozen meat which has been sent to this country from New Zealand. This shipment differs from sll other importations of frozen meat, from the fact of having been made in a sailing vessel, which has been 98 days on the passage, during which time the holds of the ship containing the meat have been kept at about 20 degrees below freezing point. The vessel has on board 5,000 sheep, and the apparatus for freezing was fitted up by the Bell-Coleman Mechanical Petrigerating Company. The meat is in tine condition, and the shipment has been managed by the New Zealand and Australian Land Company (Limited). We consider this the most. remarkable instance on record of what can be accomplished by mechanical refrigeration.—Yours faithfully, WM. FRED. CÙTT, for the BeII-Coleman Mechanical Refrigeration Company, 21, St. Helen's-place, Bishopsgate within, London, May 25.

The Times has the following interesting leader on the above letter:- To-day we have to record such a triumph over physical difficulties as would have been incredible and even unimaginable, a few years ago. Had any fervid Protectionist told Parliament in the heat of the Free Trade controversy that New Zealand would send into our London market five thousand dead sheep at a time, and in as good condition as if they been slaughtered in some suburban abattoir he would have brought on himself a Btorm of derision, and would have been otherwise than honourably mentioned on a thousand platforms. But this has actually come to pass. We seem only just now to have arrived at the certainty that meat can be brought in good condition a mere week's voyage across the Atlantic in the most temperate of the earth's zones. The present arrival is by a sailing ship, after a pas- sage of ninety-eight days across the tropiox indeed, for a large part of the voyage in heat which English- men find almost intolerable. The ship that has accomplished a feat which must Ion: have a place ia oommeroial, indeed, in political annals, is the Duntdin, belonging to the Albioa Shipping Company. An apparatus, supplied by the Bell-Coleman Mechanical Refrigeration Company, has kept the temperature constantly down to twenty degrees below freezing point. Under a torrid sun and in a tepid sea an arctic winter has been steadily main- tained below, where coolness and circulation are gene- rally least expected. How this has been done and what is the nature of the mechanism we have yet to learn. The fact is prodigious. It is the produce of a very large grazing property, extending over kalf-a- dozen parishes, brought from the Antipodes, and discharged into our dead-meat market in a day. Sheep farming has always been regarded in this country as something to fall back upon. When tenants would not pay, or the land either, when the most enterprising agriculturist had become weary of steam-ploughs and chemical manures, and when, finally, there arose the question whether to pull down an acre or two of farm buildings or rebuild on a better plan at an indefinite cost, there always remained the last alternative of letting sheep into the ground to live as they pleased in it. At the very bottom of Pandora's box there still remained the prairie value." The un- happy King, who, while his subjects were fighting for and against him, wished himself a poor shepherd watching his sheep and notching his stick, has had many an imitator among our own gentlemen farmers. Nothing like sheep farming, unless you have plenty of money and can run heavy risks. The last hope of the Bribish agriculturist seems to be on the wine when the mountain slopes of New Zealand compete successfully with our own downs. But all things have their day. Among the sights and sounds of the past are the long streams of sheep flowing into Smithfield Market through all its narrow approaches on a Sunday evening for the Monday market. The market has been latterly supplied more quietly, but not quite in so picturesque a fashion. But even the dead-meat market is undergoing a sea change." As the total number of sheep in all our Antipodean colonies is considerably more than twice that in the British Isles, it is impossible to say where this will end and how it will affect the destinies of this country. Few people have the land, or the money, or the skill, or the spirit, to contend with such odds. Yet for everybody sheep farming has a certain fascination, for everybody thinks that he can take care of sheep, till he tries, and then finds that a good shepherd fully deserves his name. It is plain that ordinary people with a pastoral taste had better go where the land is to be got, and where the sheep are want- ing shepherds. There is a certain grandeur in the thought of flocks of twenty or thirty thousand, and sheep walks twenty or thirty miles across. It is the real thing in comparison with our theatrical and make-believe scale. Of course, if all our wheat is grown abroad, and all our beef and mutton, and all our pork, and a good deal more, there will arise the question what is to be done with our land ? It is a problem which concerns landowners more than the general public, who can, indeed, afford to look on and wait for the slow solutions of time. Even the dairy is revolutionized. Few people can say whether their butter and cheese are English or American and if the Channel is ever tnnnpUed there may be several milk trains every day horn France to this metropolis. Then, as for small husbandry, it is the very speciality of our neighbours, who will beat any Englishmen in the productive management of an acre or two. So we repeat, what is to be done with our vast ancestral domains? It appears to be generally agreed that planting may be carried on with some improvement to the climate, and certainly much to the scenery, though with doubtful profit. After a time, though not at first, plantations can take care of themselves. They always require watching, to prevent all kinds of ill uses, wood fires particularly. Such a suggestion, however, can only be understoed as offered to those whose income is independent of land, and to whom its cultivation is an amusement and no more. People who, to use the common phrase, have more money than wits, that 18, who do not go into scientific husbandry simply be- cause they have no occasion to do so may devote themselves to improving the face of the country, and reproducing the forests it is so pleasant to read of. Epping Forest has now been secured as a forest for all time, and the only pity is there are not more of them. Of course, if every country gentleman could sow his land with shillings and get back sovereigns we should not recommend so slow-growing a crop as eaks and beeches, and as the relation of outlay and return is generally the other way, and people do not always succeed in getting even shillings for their sovereigns, they do not lose much by planting, and they will earn the thanks of their remotest successors, not to say of a grateful nation. It may be said that even the arrival of five thousand sheep in a day from the Antipodes need not alarm any one who thinks of the distance, the risks, the cost, a.nd certain irregularity of a supply under such conditions. We have no wish to alarm any one, but contingencies must be faced. Now near the clole of the nineteenth century, and on the eve of centenaries recalling events that change the face of the world and turned the course of history, we find still the truth of the old saying that nothing is so certain to happen as the unexpected. All the problems of life are receivine new elements of difficulty, and the country gentleman who finds his carcases underbid from the world below our feet is only in the same case as his neighbours all round. The inventions and improvements we are so delighted to enumerate may be good for the world on the whole indeed, that hardly comes into question but they are equally available for all purposes, and can be used against us as well as for us. They are but weapons which naturally fall into the hands of the strongest or the cleverest. Education ought to keep pace with progress, even in its most meohanical and commercial :? forms. If it fail to do so, the consequences cannot but be disastrous to those who have to get the means of living, or even only to keep what others have got for them. At present nothing is more serious than the prospects of many thousand young gentlemen now entering life with the idea that a just and appreciating world will find places and positions for them according to their quality and just claims. While the aristocratic and gentlemanly world increases day by day, what they are to live on either refuses to increase or sen- sibly, and even rapidly, diminishes. Acres do not in- crease and multiply. Estates never increase without toil and thrift. The cattle are not on the increase. The hands to till the land are everywhere decreasing, and the agricultural reports tell a sad tale of weeds and of land generally in bad condition, all for want of labour, which is now too costly or not to be got on any terms. Where are the men to be found is now the cry in many quarters where man was a weed half a century ago. The only thing that increases is the income derived frem trade and manufacture. Happily, a large portion of this overflows from the seats of industry in a constant and beneficial stream, recruiting the exhausted strength of the land. It is the town that enables the soil to retain its full strength. But this doesnot prevent the continual upcropping of a vast necessitous crowd asking for employment—that is, for life on pleasant, easy, and dignified terms. They must follow the old rule of tracing the Nile to its source. They see many a. life- giving stream of food for man and beast flowing into this country across the broad seas, and they must go where the food comes from. New Zealand, from all account?, can accommodate a good many more, and is a very healthy, very pleasant, and extremely beauti- ful country. Its only troubles are that it has too much of what we want, land and produce and not enough of the people we are ready to send them.

In connection with the above, The Times has also published the following letter Sir,—Every New Zealand colonist will thank you for vour article of to-day. Let me ask your per- mission to add a few words to say why the arrival of our 5,0C0 sheep should be welcome to you. In a striking letter on American meat supplies which appeared in The limes last December, your correspondent, in order to show how enormously the export of meat had increase rom America to Eng- land, told you that the States had sent you in 1880 more than 715,000 cwt, of fresh meat, nearly the same amount of tinned and preserved meats, and still larger quantities of hams and bacon. Another letter said that these hams and bacon alone, in fact, had amounted to 7.000.000 cwt. In his "Balance-sheet of the World » Mr. Mulhall elis vou how your annual deficit of meat is more than 600 0*00 tous; how every year you are becoming m< rt and more dependent on other countries for the food supply of your people and how 33 per cent, of all the meat you consume and 4W per cent, of the grain (weigh. k ing together nearly 8,000,000 tons) come to you from foreign natiows. Is it not better, since you must needs have so huge a supply that you should get as much of it as you car from your own colonies rather than from foreign coun tries* We in New Zealand, at any rate, mean t< send you plenty of it, and you must regard thiB first > shipment as only the harbinger of a great trade. I For our soil and climate are favourable to laying down land to permanent pastures, and, therefore, to the production of meat and dairy produce of high quality. Last year we had nearly nine times more land in English grasses than all Victoria, New South Wales, Queensland, and South Australia put together, and tor six years past the sowing of these grasses has been extending at the rate of 300,000 acres a year. This means that New Zealand meat and dairy stuff will be coming to you, in these new refrigerating chambers, not only in large quantities, but (what is more to the purpose) in exceptionally good condition. If the landowners and farmers of England have to look at these food-supplies from the other side of the world as a prodigious fact," they will remember how much better it is tor England to receive the food from her own kith and kin than from those who may one day be her enemies.—Yours obediently, THE AGENT-GENERAL OF NEW ZEALAND May, 27.

A FATAL MACHINERY ACCIDENT. On Saturday afternoon Mr. E. A. Carttar, West Kent Coroner, held an inquest at the "North Pole," Greenwich-road, on the body of Alfred Holmes, aged 27. The deceased, described as a very steady young man, had been employed from a schoolboy at the kamptulicon works of Messrs. Wright Brothers. On Wednesday afternoon in last week the deceased was working at a masticating machine, in which a ball travels for masticating indiarubber, and his duty was to keep the cover closed while the machine is work- ing, the machine being fed through an aperture 41in. square, but he would have to open the mas- ticator occasionally to see that the ball was working properly and remove any sand that might be there, and stop the machine when the cover was opened. Henry Gibbs, the foreman, who was at work at a calenderer, with his back to the deceased, heard him cry out, and, on turning round, saw him in the machine, and the engine-driver, who also heard the cry, ran to the engine and stopped it, and deceased was released from the machine, his left arm having been cut or dragged off close to the shoulder, and fell into the machine, but rolled out immediately after- wards. A portion of deceased's waistcoat, brace, and a shirt button remained in the machine. Deceased's left side was mueh bruised, and a wet sheet having been wrapped round him, he was placed in a cab and removed to the Sea- men's Hospital, walking from the cab to the buildirg. Gibbs also took the arm to the hospital, and it is rather strange that it was uninjured from the elbow to the fingers. As the deceased lay in his bed at the hos- pital, the arm being placed near him, he remarked to Gibbs, "There is my poor hand." Deceased could give no account as to how his arm got into the machine, but Gibbs was of opinion deceased must have pressed with his arm as the ball was entering the box, and his shirt-sleeve, being, perhaps, a little loose, was caught in the machine and deceased thus drawn in. Deceased had worked the machine five or six years, had perfect command over it, and could at once throw it out of motion. There had not been a drop of drink on the works on the day of the accident. The j ary expressed an opinion that no one was to blame for the accident, but thought it should be a stringent rule on the works that the ball, while in motion in the machine, should not be touched by hand, returning a verdict That deceased died from shock to the system from injuries accidentally received while working a masticating machine."

THE RISE OF BRANDON. The rise of Manitoba is exceeding in wondrous sur- prises the wildest legends of the "Theusand and One Nights" (says Land). The rapidity with which "cities" spring up in the Western States is a slow and gradual growth compared with the startingly sudden uprising of towns in the great North-west. Twelve months ago the surveyors staked out the selected site of a new town, to be called Brandon. To- day Brandon has a population of 4,000 souls—or rather it bad when the letter from which we are quoting was written a month ago. It is probably much more now. Brandon already contains some 400 buildings, several of them being hotels and stores of considerable size. In the two months of February and March this year over £24,000 worth of building was contracted for in Brandon, and, in the main, completed. It is expected that a further sum, closely approaching B200,000, will have been spent in building operations in the new town by the end of the year. The place is extending with such astounding rapidity that all the land for fifty miles round is taken up, and farm lands which eighteen months ago had hardly been trodden by white feet, are now selling at from S2 to £ 4 an acre.

THE CENSUS OF CANADA. The first volume of the Canadian Census Statistics of 1881 has just been submitted to the Dominion Parliament by the Hon. J. H. Pope, the Minister of Agriculture, and contains various interesting sche- dules, among which are those relating to the religions and nationalities of the population. With regard to the former the particulars are as follows :—Roman Catholics, 1 791,982; Presbyterians, 676,155; Adventists, 7,211; Baptists, 225,236; Free Will Baptists, 50,055; Mennonitee, 21,234 Brethren, 8,831; Church of England, 574,818; Congrega- tionalists, 26,900 Disciples, 20,193; Episcopal (Reformed), 2,596; Jews, 2,303; Lutherans, 46,350 Methodists of all classes, 742,981; Pagans, 4,478 Protestants, 6,519; Quakers, 6,533; Unitarians 2,126; Universalists, 4,517; no religion, 2,634; other denominations, 14,269; not given, 86,769. Total, 4,324,810. The population of Canada includes the following nationalities — Africans, 21,394 Chinese, 4,383 Dutch, 30,412; English, 881,301; French, 1,298,929 Germans, 255,319; Icelanders, 1,009 Indians, 108,547; Irish 957,403; Italians, 1,819; Jews, 667; Russians, 1,227; Scandinavians, 4,214; Scotch, 699.863; Spanish and Portuguese, 1,172; Swiss, 4,588; Welsh, 9,947; all others, 43.587. According to nativity, the population of the Dominion stands thus:— Natives of England, 169,504; Ireland, 185,526; Scotland, 115,062 Ontario. 1,467,988; Quebec, 1,227,809; Prince Edward Island, 101,047 Nova Scotia, 420,088; New Brunswick, 288,265; British Columbia, 32,775; Manitoba, 19,590; Territories, 58,430; other British possessions, 10,348; France, 4,389; Germany, 25,328; Italy, 777; Russia, 6.376; Spain, 215; Sweden and Norway, 2,076; United States, 77,753 other countries, 14,169. The male population of Canada number 2,188,854, and the females 2,135,956; married, 1,380,084; widowed, 160,330 unmarried, 2,784,396. Canada was divided for census purposes into 192 districts and 2,139 sub-districts.

MONEY MAKES THE HEART GLAD.—Grandfather (to Mary, going out to service): You'll think o' yer old > gran', thin, sometimes, Mary?" Mary: "Oh, yes, I grandfather!" Grandfather (dreamily): "It's little ■ gladdens a old man's 'art. I've knowed two-an'-six I in postage-stamps do it! Ah!—one-an'-six I've I knowed do it!"—Fun. THE METROPOLITAN TABERNACLE.—On Monday 1 night the Rev. C. H. Spurgeon conducted a prayer 1 and baptism meeting at the Metropolitan Tabernacle. J The ceremonies, notwithstanding it being Bank 1 holiday were well attended. Those givit g in their 3 adhesion to the church went through the baptismal lite at the latter portion of the proceedings, the 1 earlier portion of which was devoted to prayer and sacred song. An unusual feature characterised the 9 evening's procedure in the delivery of brief addresses 1 by two students of Mr. Spurgeon's college, who were about to sail for Australia, to take charge of mis- 0 j Bionary work there.

ONE HUNDRED MILES BICYCLE RACE. The annual 100 miles road trial of the London Bicycle Club from Bath to London was run on Monday in fine weather, with the wind slightly favourable. The roads were very good, and the times very fast. Mr. H. R. Reynolds came in first in 7h. 26m., after a capital race for the last twenty miles with G. F. Beck, who ran second in 7h. 27m. Barker and Newman ran a dead heat for the third place in 7h. 43m. Twenty-four men started, of whom fourteen completed the distance under nine hours.

THE IRISH SUNDAY CLOSING ACT. At the end of this year the Irish Sunday closing Act, which was pasaed in 1878, c?mes to a close, unless it he renewed. In a Bill for rendering it per- manent, Mr. Richardson, M.P., propases to do away with the exemptions which at present allow intoxi- catillg liquors to be sold at certain hours on Sundays in the five large towns of Dublin, Cork, Limerick, Water- ford and Belfast. The Bill also makes the closing of licensed premises obligatory on Good Friday and Christmas Day, as well as on Sundays. The bond-fide traveller, too, receives another defini- tion. A new qualification is that he must have lodged the preceding night at a place at least seven miles distant from the premises where he demands to be supplied with liquor. Moreover, to enable the liquor to be served, it is made necessary that the licensed premises contain, at least, four apartments set apart exclusively for the sleeping accommodation of tra- vellers, and be otherwise structurally adapted for use as an inn for the reception of guests and travellers, and be mainly so used.

THE SALVATION ARMY. Morning, afternoon, and night meetings were held on Monday ia the large building, now called the Con- gress-hall, at Lower Clapton, London, under the leadership of "General" Booth, and notwithstanding the fineness of the weather and the many holiday attractions in other directions, there were about 8,000 people at the morning gathering, seme 4,500 in the afternoon, and over 5,000 in the evening. The interior is arranged somewhat after the manner of an old Roman amphitheatre, the converted rink, how- ever, being an oblong, and not an ellipse, and seats are provided for 4,700, but on this occasion the forms were crowded and people were standing in the gang- ways and passages throughout the building. The two earlier meetings were holiness councils, when the members and followers of the army were in- structed in the offices of the Holy Spirit and encou- raged to give up the world in act and not merely in theory, and to devote themselves more wholly to the Master's service. The General drew from passages of Scripture in a homely way lessons suitable to the celebration of the Feast of Pentecost, and at the close of the afternoon's council about 1,000 persons stood up to signify their readiness to enter the service as soldiers of Christ, willing to give up all for Hia sake. Short addresses were also delivered by Mrs. Booth, Captain Payne, and Mrs. Walker. It was announced that about £1,000 were wanted to provide an iron building to receive c he overflow from the great hall. Last Sunday week it was estimated that 10,000 people were sent away from the door, and crowds had to be turned baok last Sunday beoause, not only the main hall, but two tents, each capable of holding 1,000 persons, were crammed almost to suffo- cation. As illustrating the unexpected way in which help and encouragement is given to the movement, "General" Booth read the following letter in the evening:— "Dunedin, New Zealand, April 5. Dear Sir,—Can you see your way to send to the rescue to perishing souls in this respectable and highly-favoured city ? Herewith please find draft £200. The Lord reward you and yours. (Faithfully) A WELLWISHEB." Another noteworthy fact, perhaps, is that the War Cry has now reached a weekly circulation of 280,000, and the children's paper, the Little Soldier, a circula- tion of 60,000. In the course of the evening "Commissioner" Railton, who had been during the past week in Northampton, gave a hopeful account of the progress of Salvation work in that town. Since a suitable building—a circus—had been procured, and large meetings ha.d been held, much success had attended the efforts of the army. A hymn having been sung the General" said he shoald next call upon the Rev. Dr. Hutton, a clergy- man of the Church of England, to address the meeting, but before doing so he had to announce that there would on Tuesday, be a great meeting in the park at Chalk Farm and that new barracks would be opened at Camberwell. It would hold about 2,500 people. Dr. Hutton, who was received with a mighty shout, which the General called a volley," and then with another and with fervent cries of "Amen," said he hoped the wish of the General" to establish a com- missariat deparment and canteen to supply those who came from a long distance would soon be fulfilled. Speaking, then, of his love for the Church of England, he expressed his desire to see its members and clergy give countenance and support to this movement—a wish which called forth cries of "Lord, bless the Church of England!" "May the Lord help them to-press forward ?" Referring to the great meeting of the army In Exeter-hall, he stated that he saw the Archbishop of York there and said he was happy to know that his Grace, from what he had seen and heard, was disposed to do what was in his power to help the Salvationists. The "General" next read telegrams sent by his son from Rochdale and Liverpool, giving the resultB of successful meet- ings held in those towns. Mr. T. A. Denny, who was then called on to speak, said these services were spoiling him for the churches. He had been to a quiet and orderly meeting on the previous night, and continually wanted to say "Amen or "Hallelujah," but had to hold his peace, because he would have been had up as a brawler had he given vent to his feelings. He was glad to see the clergy looking kindly on this movement. It was also with great satisfaction that he had heard that the audacious courage of the "General in buying and re-construct- ing this hall had been justified and that the amount required to'pay for it was already subscribed. The fact was the movement was growing. He would, however, counsel them to be quiet and not to jump too high. They must not get too much excited. He could wish sometimes, however, he was more excited himself, and if their excitement were real they might jump as high and shout as loud as they wished. "Colonel" Clibborn, who was introduced as the "Quaker Colonel," recently home from service in the campaign in France, told of the favour with which the Society of Friends generally regarded this work. Mrs. Booth, whose address concluded the speaking in the evening, said she believed the Lord would use the Salvation Army to break the shackles of couven- tionality, so that all the people in the Church would say "Aman" when they felt it. All this silence, this long-facedness, this sanctimoniousness was of the Devil. People would say II You must not have animal excitement." What excitement then could could they have ? There could not be spiritual excitement without a measure of animal excite- ment, for the animal contained the spiritual, and if God moved her spiritual nature, He moved her animal nature at the same time; and to prevent the movement of the latter was to hinder God's work. A black man had once said to her he should burst if he did not jump. She would say, then, let him jump, provided, as Mr. Denny bad said, that it was the real expression of what he felt. It was rational, it was reasonable, it was philosophical that they should express their feelings, and those who talked of philo- sophy and logic, while they were forbidding the energies of the mind to express themselves through the channels God had provided, did not know what they were talking about. They wanted the outward expression of the inward fire. They did not believe in the shouting of people who would do nothing else, but those who had prayed, and wept, and suffered im- Erisonment in this cause might shout till they were oarse. A hymn was sung, and after prayer the great assembly broke up, the contingents from Whitechapel and more distant parts of London marching home, carrying their Army banners and singing their hymns to cheer them on the way.