Weekly Mail

LAUGH &GROW FAT HUMOROUS PARS FROM EVERYWHERE. Mr. Smith: "I'm not a bit sensitive about my name. I'd just as soon it was Smith as —as Winthrop." Miss Winthrop (demurely): "So had I." (The engagement was announced next day.) The poet and the editor were playing tennis, and the latter was beaten. You serve well. but you cannot return," said the poet. "Can't I?" asked the editor. "Send me a poem, and see." Uncle Silas (to nephewx Well, Jack, did you pick up any new ideas while you were in the big oity? Jack (just returned): Yes; I found out that it costs you twenty shillings to cheek a p'liceman. Auntie: Johnny, did you enjoy the book I sent you on your birthday? Johnnie: Never looked at it yet. Auntie: Why, don't you like it? Johnnie: ma said I'd have to wash my hands when I road it. Bobby: Mamma, am I a lad? Ma mma Yes, Bobby. Bobby: And is my new papa my step- father ? Mamma: Yes. Bobby: Then am I his stepladder ? Laura: I get so nervous trying to pass pedestrians. Flora: It is no trouble if you know just how. All one has to do is to wobble one's wheel until the pedestrian gets so scared he can't move, and then he is as easy to pass as a post. He: I fel! in love with you the first time I ever saw you. "What did you think of me? She: I thought it was a pity you were so thin, and that you'd never look well in kn iokerbockers. Then he wandered out into the moon-lit night, and kicked six planks out of the garden fence. Oonjorer (pointing to a larg>e cupboa.rd): ladies and gentlemen, I take the liberty toO present to you the last piece on the programme. I beg a lady in the audience to ascend the stage and enter this cupboard. I will then cloce it; and. when it is opened, she will have disappeared." A man in the audience to his wife: "Here, old lady, yon go on the stage!" KINDLY CONSIDERATION. A man was "tried" at the Old Bailey. On the first witness being called, the prisoner asked, My Lord, is this man going to give evidence against me?'' "Yes," was the reply. "Then I plead guilty—not that I am guilty, but I wish to save him from committing perjury!" STOPPING THE EXODUS. During scrvioe in a certain church on one of the warm Sundays recently experienced, many of the congregation, finding the air oppressive, rose and silently stole away. The minister, percpiving that the exodus was about to become epidemic, paused in his discourse. "Brethren," he said, "I am here to deliver a sermon, not a soliloquy!" IN A GLASS HOUSE. A "bad boy" was catching frogs with a small net. He had just secured a fine specimen, when a young lady. who was out for a walk, addressed him. "Little boy." she said, "don't you know it's very cruel to catch those poor little froggiee ?" The lad looked at her, and saw that she was wearing a "creation" in millinery which was distinguished for its orni- thological specimens. "I want 'em to wear on my hat!" he said. THE QUALITY OF "MERCI." Madame Sarah Bernhardt had an amusing experience with an Irish policeman during her last toui; in America. On her arrival at New York she wa.s met by a huge crowd of people, who surrounded her on every side, and pushed and hustled in a moat uncomfortable manner. For a time it looked as though the actress would never maike her escape, but presently a burly Irish policeman appeared, and began hitting out right and left with his truncheon, in order to clear a path for her. "Oh, merci, monsieur!" said Madame Bernhardt, with one of her most gracious smiles. "Don't beg for mercy to this orowd, mum," repued the policeman. "Leave 'em to me; I'll soon teach them to behave themselves!" A DIAGNOSIS. Your liver's, very bad, my friend I" The doctor tapped his eyeglasses nervously on the thumb of his left hand, and gazed earnestly at the stout, red-faced man stand- ing before him. The stout, red-faced man became even red- der than before, and almost tottered, so great was his emotion. It was easy to see that he was of the plethoric order. He had lived freely and well, as men do live who make good incomes, and he had not stinted himself of the good things the earth offered. Now here was this man telling him solemnly that his liver was bad! He thought he knew well what that meant He had been living in a fool's paradise, then! His liver bad! And he had always supposed it to be excellent! But no! He- would not believe it! "You're a liar!" he shouted; "and you're the fust ma.n that ever said a thing a.gin the meat I sells!" So violent were his gestures that the. doctor, who did his own buying. left hastily and made his purchase another market.

LOVE AND MADNESS. MEDICAL MEN'S VIEWS ON THE SUBJECT. The Paris Eclair" has for some time past been consulting prominent men in the medical profession on the grave problem whether love can lead to madness? Dr. Briand says emphatically Love never leads to madness." Dr. Borellon says a dis- tinction must be made: there are two kinds of madness, incurable a.nd transitory; and it is to the latter form tbat love may lead. The concensus of opinion appears to be contrary to Dr. Briand's theory. Most of the great aliemasts hold tha.t love, which in itself is transitory madness, can quite well lead to durable madness, sometimes curable, often incurabie. Dr. Voisin, of the famous SaJ.pe- triere Hospita-l, supports this view. It is a very delicate question," he says. Love has ma.ny aspects. There is ideal love; there is animal love; but, however you take it, real love, violent love, is a passion— that is to say, a malady; and if intense passion is thwarted, and a person be predie- posed by birth amd temperament to fed acutely the deceptions and disillusions inseparable from disappointed love, there are many chances tha.t he will go mad- The evil influence of depression consequent upon commercial, financial, political, artistic worries, and the like may quite well drive a man mad; why, then, should not disap- pointed love, which destroys your dream. and ruins your- life, also send you mad ?"

A HOME HEMEDY THAT REDUCES FAT. Would you like to have a nice firm figure, yet escape the tiresome, exhausting exercise and the .siokeuing diet of the old-time methods of reducing the fatty excess? Then go to the chemist and for this inexpensive mixture:—One half-ounce of Marmola, one ounce of fluid extract of Glycyrrhiza B.P., one ounce of pure Glyce- rine B.P., and Peppermint Water to make six ounoes in all. Take a dessertspoonful after meals and at bedtime, and in a few weekS you can be as fit physically as it is possible to be. It is best to mix the ingre- dients at home, but see you get the Marmola in a sealed package. When fresh it acts quicker and more thoroughly. wl627

UPROAR IN A CHAPEL. A regrettable scene occurred at a church meeting in the Barking (Essex) Congre- gational Church. After the agemda had been gone through a resolution that Mr. T. Belling should preside was carried by 51 to nineteen votes. The pastor, the Bev. F. H. Somerville, who was in the chair, ruled the resolution out of order, but Mr. Belling mounted tboe platform and placed a chair beside that of the pastor. General uproar followed, and the church secretary called in the police. A resolution giving Mr. Somerville notice to vacate the pastorate was afterwards sarried, and was followed by further scenes 3f confusion. As the secretary refused to ?ive the church keys to the pastor, Mr. Somerville and his friends remained all night in the building, where they had breakfast at seven o'clock in the morning. It is stated that the differenrl between ihe pastor and his opponents have been referred to the London Congregational Gnion and that a satisfactory settlement is hoped for.

LASDSRt.—Ladder* for BaKert, Filittn, Ptaoterers, Private 17. fee., aU b1m« at OpttrtH t lUnulMtory, BKt-MtMt. HrltMl. w33Ui

T 0TO T | SHORT STORY, T T ♦ J | FOR MARIAN'S SAKE. t He was set free one March morning with the marks of seven years' penal servitude upon him—marks he would bear through, life. He set out immediately for home-for the town which had been the scene of his unmerited disgrace. His parents would never leave the place, hateful as it had become to them, lest by d.)ing so they should em to imply that they had anything to be ashamed of, which they did not feel, and would not allow others to t-hink. Dear loyal hearts! Did the town still ring, he wondered, with the story of James Way- burn, the banker's head clerk, who had forged the name of one of hie master's rich customers for a large sum and then bolted to the Continent with his booty? He thought of that fatal trip abroad—the outcome of a young man's natural longing to see something of the world; how he had saved for months and months with a view to it. and then, his health suddenly failing: him, had resigned his position at the bank and set off on the holiday he so long promised himself, his blood tingling under the anticipated delight of wandering where- ever fancy led him. Oh. that he had remained at home and kept hie clerkship at the bank! The whole catastrophe might have Keen averted. As it was, he was sus- pected and brought back; the circumstantial Tidenc proved astoundingly strong against him, and a terrible miscarriage of justice took place—he was sentenced to seven penal servitude. Except his parents, no one believed in his innoccnoe. Even the girl he loved and hoped one day to make his wife doubted him. His parents thought it best to break this to him in the early days of his disgrace. Marian—to whom he had given his hearts warmest love! He thougnt of the agony he had endured when this bitterest drop (f all was gently and compassionately added to his cup of misery, and wondered whether he could ever suffer like that aga-in. Well, he was free once more—but his good name was gone! the horrible, horrible injustice of it! The loving hom«-reception he received made him fcrget for a time that he was an outcast. Hie parents held him to their hearts and wept o\ei him; and when he had been refreshed by some weeks of home care, his father—now in affluence, for business had made vast strides during the years- went him away to finish that interrupted trip abroad. Whilst staying at an in.n in (Switzerland, he was attracted by a young man who formed one of a party also staying at the inn. An unmistakable cloud enveloped this young fellow, although he tried hard to throw it off, ajid eagerly joined in all the exploits of his companions, jim Wayburn was unhappy himself, and this bond of sympathy drew them together. One morning, while cnatting together before the door of the inn, they exchanged cards. The instant the stranger s eyes ieli on the name, J amies K. Wayourn," a terrible change sho* td ielf in Lie* lace and manner, lie turned ghastly pale, and shrank tremblingly back as though an unexpected blow had been dealt him. appear to know me by name," said Jim coldly. "I did wrong to encourage your advances. I beg your pardon." "Why—why don't you change it?" etammered the other. "My name? I am not ashamed of it. I am waiting for Nemesis to overtake the man who made me a con, iot w110 had oommi t.t.e<1 no crime." And with that he turned and left him. That evening the young man was brought back to the inn in a dying condition, lIe had met with an accident while exploring. Medical aid was immediately summoned, but nothing could be done for him He earnestly begged that he might I be furnished with his writing materials and then loft alone until he rang. His friends propped him up in bed, laid his desk open before him. and then retired. In less than an hour's time his bell was heard. He requested that a notary public be sent to him at onoe. When this official was at length ushered into the room and left alone with his client, the injured man was sinking fast. St-i-ntc freshly written sheets lay on the desk before him. He gathered them up. and pinned them neatly together. "This is a confession," he said, faintly, as he let his hand fall feebly on the manuscript and looked at the notary with the awful, impressive stare of the dying, "which I wish to and swear to before you in your official capacity." It was soon fettled. "And now," said the dying ma.n, as the notary gent.ly relieved him of the desk, "on your way out, will you kindly request the landlord to send Mr. Way- burn to me? Thank you. Good-bye." When Jim came to the room, he gently drew -up a chair to the bedside and sat down. On a little table at hand there was a small basin of clear water and a sponge. Jim took up the sponge and tenderly wiped the moisture from the suffering face, and skilfully made the dying man more com- fortable on the pillows. "I was grieved to hear yon had met with an accident," he sa.id, in a quiet, soothing tone. "What can I do for you?" "Nothing." "And yet you sent for me," he gently urged. "To give you this.' heart gave a bound as the manu- script illI held out to him; his quivering lips just managed to utter the words: "What is it?" And the feeble voice was like a trumpet in his ears when it grasped—almost with its last breath: "Nemesis at last r' The paper once read, Jim lost no time in setting out for England. Strange to say, he did not first turn his steps towards home. He had, of course, asked his parents for news of Marian Summer—the woman who muat always reign supreme in his heart: whom he had loved far too well-und he had learnt that she and her parents were living at Dinidale when last heard of, now some years ago. Dirndale was a very small town, and her address would no doubt be easily obt^jned. Thither he directed his steps. Tne afternoon of the morning of his arrival at Dirndale found him knocking at the door of Mr. Summer's modest dwelling. Marian herself opened it. She gave a gasp of astonishment as her eyes fell on the visitor, and stood before him pale and trembling. No greeting passed between them. Marian," he said, calmly, "I have a few words to say to you alone. They are im- portant." She mechanically ushered him into a small sitting-room, and begged him to be reated. He looked keenly at her as he sat down by the little centre table. Marian was a pretty, fair-haired girl of eighteen when he had last seen her. She seated her- self opposite him, and looked at him in silence. Marian," he said, "my love has survived your cruel doubts—it has lived to bring you the proof of my innocence." And he drew the manuscript from his pocket and laid it on the table between them. nOh, Jim!" The old familiar name she had not uttered for seven years oame :^nr^ ws■ "-1 am"° so glad! And so very, very sorry for the past. Do you forgive me, Jim? And she leaned across the table and laid a gentkT appealing hand on hi8 arm, and the blue eyes were full of tears. "Forgive you!" he said, as he laid his hand on hers and looked at her tenderly. Yes. Love forgives everything." Her pale faoe flushed, and Sone drew her hand hastily "Who did it?" she asked, abruptly. "One of my fellow-clerks, David Kennon." She gave a violent start, and clutched the table with both hands. As he looked at her blanohed face a sudden horror stole over him. "Absurd!" she said. "Impossible!" He pointed to the paper between them. "There is the confession of his accom- plice," he said, slowly, "signed and sworn to in the presence of a notary public Read it." She snatched up the document and de- voured its contents. It fell from her hand when she had finished, and she laid her head beside it. "Oh. God, have mercy upon me!" she groaned. "What does this mean, Marian"" he faltered. She raised her ghastly face; a mad despair glittered in her eyes. "I am—his wife!" she aaid. The black cloud enveloped him once more like a pall. He looked at her for some moments with unseeing eyes. "With the money that he stole," she went on, in a strained, unnatural voice, "he bought his interest in these works hero and married me! Success has not attended his efforts; we have found it hard to oover expenses—that's why we're sharing this house with father." Jim did not speak; he was just beginning to struggle out of the darkness that had overwhelmed him. "Oh, Jim!" .she moaned. "God forgive me, I cannot see it as I should! David has been a loving husband to me and we have three little children. Such mites, Jim! Only throe, two, and one year old!" And in the midst of his compassion for her and the awfuil shock of knowing that she was irrevocably lost to him, his heart was crying out.— "Think of me! I am but twenty-nine-a. mail of integrity and ability-tbe only child of living parents whose trust and devotion have never wavered. Think of my rained Think of their misery! Think of mine! It is right that the guilty—not the innocent —should suffer." These thoughts burned themselves into his brain and pieroed bis heart, until the agony they occasioned was almost more than ne oould bear; but he set his lips together, and fought it down in silence. "Has anyone else seen this?" she gasped. "No." he said, with painful slowness, and as he spoke a deadly chill came over him. "I vowed in prison you should be the first I would bring proofs of my innocence to." There was silence for a few moments. "You will spare us, Jim?" Did man ever hear a more piteous cry? He rested his elbows on the table, and let his face fall into his hands. A sudden sick- ness and faintness took possession of him. At length he raised his head. It was a terrible faoe to see with its awful pallor, its growing agonised eyes, and drawn mouth; but as she met his glance, the woman knew instinctively that she had conquered,, and she admired and loved him in his brave despair. "Yes," he gasped, "I will spare you. Could any man do more?" She poured forth a torrent of gratitude, which he did not even hear. His mind seemed far away from his surroundings, and his eyes had wandered from her face and were gazing dreamily through the window into the blue, cloud-flecked vault beyond. A stupor was steadily creeping over him. She tried to rouse him. She put one hand on his arm, and held the confession up before him in the other. "What is to be done with this?" she asked. In a pitiful, dazed way he looked long at the priceless document; then he took it gently from her. "I will-" he waited so long with the I unfinished sentence on his lips and his eyes bent on the papfer that Marian ventured to timidly re-call him. "Well, Jim?" she faltered. He looked up at her. troy it," he whis- pered hoarsely. It was all over now. He rose and held out bis hand. "Good-bye," he said, gently. She suddenly sprang up and snatched the paper from him. "What!" he cried, and as he spoke his apathy fell from him, and a keen note of pain rang out in his voice. "Still doubtful of me, ^lurian! You won't trust me yet?" A beautiful colour flooded her face; a soft light—half proud, half tearful—shone in her upturned eyes.. She held the document in her left hand, closely pressed against her heart. "No," she said, softly, as she took his hand heart. "No," she said, softly, as she took his hand and put it to her lips, "I won't trust you." And thus they parted. He went home that night. His father was away on business. His mother was surprised, He went home that night. His father was away on business. His mother was surprised, though rejoiced, to see him. For one even. ing she had her darling all to herself. She was jealous even of her beloved husband's share in the delight of his presence, so much did her heart yearn over her slandered son. As she sat before the cheerful hearth, her boy on a footstool beside her, his head rest- ing against her shoulder, her heart went up in gratitude that he should have been restored to her, sound in mind and body. There was no room for regretful thoughts. He told her he had a sudden impulse to return home, and had obeyed it. "The change has done me all the good it can ever do, mother," he said, sadly. "I want to be with you myw." She bent and kissed him. "You must keep up a brave heart, my dar- ling," she said. "For the present you must be content with your poor old parents' un- dying love and trust, cheered and streng- thened by the thought that some day you will have all men's—in full measure, too, my son. The truth must come to light sooner or later." Poor fellow! He put his arms round her and sobbed his heart out on her bosom. Tne early post next morning brought a letter to Mrs. Wayburn. The sight of the handwriting stirred both their hearts. It was a. dismal morning. Mrs. Wayburn sat down before the glowing hearth, and called Jim to her. "We will read it together, Jim," she said. He knelt by her side and encircled her with hit; arms. It read as follows:- "Dear Mrs. Wayburn,-This afternoon your son brought me the proof of his innocence— an authenticated confession of the accom- plice of the culprit. The culprit is-my hue- band! And in my first anguish and bewil- derment I implored the man whom I have already so cruelly wronged to spare my hus- band, my babies, and myself, and he pro- mised to destroy the evidence that gave him back his good name and all the innumerable blessings that follow in its train. But as he stood before me, heart and spirit broken, with that priceless document my mad words had rendered useless, held so limply in his hand, the Divine truth flashed upon me, and I saw my sin in all its glaring horror. The truth however cruel it might seem—is always best. To shield the guilty and consciously to let the innocent suffer coaid never really benefit my inno- cent babes, my poor. sinning husband, or my weak self. So I snatched the paper from him-he was far too noble to be trusted with it, now that he knew all. That same evening I took advice and despatched the confession to the proper authorities. Your son's name is vindicated, and my soul is free from sin. I have a right to look to Heaven for aid. May God protect me and my helpless babes' Tell your son that, even in the midst of my grief and despair, I revere and esteem him above all men. and amongst the myriads of regrets, congratulations, and good wishes that will pour in upon him, there will be none more heartfelt than those of her who soon will be a convict's wife.—Yours in sorrow, "MARIAN."

MUNICIPAL BABY SHOW. Sheffield had the other day what may be regarded as a "municipal baby show." It was organised by the local Motherhood League, a.n association which devotes itself to getting mothers to take an intelligent interest in their babies. The corporation gave it cordial support, the lady mayoress distributing the prizes. About 500 babies were ahown. There were classes for breast-fed babies, bottle-fed babies, dried- milk babies, twins, champion heavy-weights, and premature babies. The show fully established the superiority of breastfed babies. The champion heavy- weight prize went to a child of fourteen months weighing nearly 341b.

FIGHT WITH A BULL. At Edmondstown, County Louth, a farm lalourer, named Patrick M'Eneany, who- had gone into a field to attend to some cattle, had a fight with a bull lasting ovei an hour. Four times the bull knocked the man down and tried to gore him, but M'Eneany saved himself by seizing hold of the ring in the animal's nose. His dog tried to render assistance, but was rendered unconscious by a blow from the bull. With two of his ribs broken and in an almost fainting condition M'Eneany evaded further onslaughts by the bull by crawling through a gate.

COMPLETELY CURED. SUFFERED FROM LIVER AND KIDNEY TROUBLE FOR FIVE YEARS. DR. MORSE'S INDIAN ROOT PILLS RECOMMENDED BY A NEIGHBOUR PROVED A GOD-SEND. Mr. Alfred Slater of 28, South Street, Ashton- under-Lyne, gives his experience of Dr. Morse's Indian Root Pills in the following clear and concise statement, that should carry weight with the most sceptical:—" May I be allowed to give my testimony for Dr. Morse's Indian Root Pills. For the last five years I have been 0. worth their weight in Gold." troubled with weak, diseased kidneys, and a bad liver, and have had no pleasure during this time. I tried many of the remedies that are on the market but none succeeded in curing my back. I was under the doctor a considerable time, but at last he gave me up. About six months ago a neighbour named Sam Fay asked me if I had ever tried Dr. Morse's Indian Root Pills. I obtained a bottle and in three months I felt a bit of benefit from them. I still persevered with them and can now say at the end of six months I am completely cured. I now know the pleasure of living such as I have not experienced for the last five years. I wish every suffering man in Ashton knew of your remedy. It has been a God-send to me. I would not be without them. They are worth their weight in gold to me. I shall recommend them to all my friends and relatives. I still take them regularly and find they keep me in good health, and I am able to fulfil my duties as a collier, which you know is an occupation which entails a great amount of backwork, and I am now free from all pain. You are at perfect liberty to publish this testimonial if you wish. Sold by Chemists and Stores, price 1/1 J per bottle, or The W. H. Comstock Co., Ltd., 21, Farringdon Avenue, London, E.C. I

wwwwww\ All Rights Reserved. A Poached Peerage. By sir w. wag may, bart. 0 Author of The Heiress of the Season," Pauconberg," The Red Chancellor," A Prince of Lovers," etc. K. A. I < CHAPTER XXVHI. (Continued.) He was about to give a practical sugges- tion of how they might make the best of the ?Unil5r hours, with his arm only prevented rom encircling her waist by a vigorous re-1 l^ive action on Ulrica's part, followed by a suggestion that the conditions did not lend themselves to waltzing, when suddenly a man emerged from the bushes stood in front of them. It was not the r<l Quorn they were expecting, but the 'eal Quorn, who. had sighted them while DrowMng about the grounds, and now con-1 fronted them with an expreesfton of jealous Trita.,tion on his now chronically aggrieved face. Hallo, my cunning little puppet," he ex- claimed rudely. Enjoying yourself this 1ine morning?" Trying to," replied Peckover, betwixt re- Ben.tment and politic submissiveness. That's right," said Quorn with a dis- tinctly objectionable sneer. "Poaching on the preserves of the person who calls him-' Oelf Lord Quorn, it strikes me." Who is this rude person?" asked Ulrica, 310t knowing whether to be amused or farmed. Oh, he's all right," Peckover assutod her ',ln easily, "Tea," responded Qu-orn with dismaying ^•Sgeetiveness. I am particularly all l'igllt. About the only man on the place who 16 all right, it strikes me." Peckover, reduced to an apprehensive and Bloomy silence, noticed that Quorn's eyes "'ere fixed on Ulrica with a look of unmis- Jjakable and more than passing admiration. The aggressive manner was softening, too, clearly for the lady's benefit, and, indeed, 1fies Buffkin showed signs of a temptation J° laugh at the embarrassment of her cava- lier. "Right you are," Peckover said, nodding to Quorn as pleasantly as the situation per- mitted, and, at the tame time, trying to get a chance of winking at Ulrica to intimate thereby that she need not take the new- eonler seriously. ""Well, we must be getting IIlp to the Towers now." But QUOrll showed no intention of budging -ttroma their path. His eyes were still fixed in the same resolute admiration on the fasci- nating Ulrica, and it \ya.s ma.11ifŒt that the "ell of her beauty was holding him more 8trongly every moment. You run off to the Towers, old man," he Ordered Peckover with a wave of the arm, 'WbUe his eyes never left the object of their attraction. You're wanted rap there at noe. I'll escort the lady." There was a note of determination in his J"pice that Peckover had not noticed before. it was derived from the enchant- ment of Miss Buffkin's personality. Peckover dared not disobey. Happily a ruse suggested itself to him. He nodded to Ulrica. "See 170u again presently," and made off down the winding path. Scarcely had Quorn time to pwH himself her in his overmastering admiration "d frame the preamble of a rough flirtation ^hen Peckover oame rushing back with ^preheneive face. "Well, what's the matter now?" Qnorn 'demanded, upset by the interruption. "Lions on the prowl," Peckover announced a lourl whimper. „ Lione?" cried the exasperated Quiarn. ^^hat do you mean. You must be dr—" the meaning flashed upon him, and he r:.ew white. "Not the L-eos?" h demanded °°areely. Peckover nodded warninsrly. "Both of 'em. faking masty. They'll be round the corner 111 a moment." Lord Qnorn had decided before that foment, elapsed not to stay to test the truth the statement. With an exclamation ^hich savoured less of good manners than abject, if wrathful, fear, he sprang with- Qut a word of leave-taking or excuse into the bushes and disappeared. Then Peckover winked at the astounded Stfis^Buffkiu. „ Tha.:t was clever of you," she remarked ivrifh a, puzzled laugh. How did you do it?" "Superior power of intellect," was his ■" gpo-mewh-at va-Jrue and unsatisfying explana- V Ilind orvn f-tart muscle any day. ^s^Jever mind, that poor chap. Where did we •Wotrtdn't," s»he replied significantly, ''jr. Member rightly." ^ith *hore I won't," Peckover exclaimed, Ti, "°ldnese increased by his late con p. wasn't x ingt—? I don't mind beginning X1'. « you don't." 3d J^Pndenoo made her burst out laug'n- You are absurd. And yon are not your friend well." raps not," returned. But when I JpMJ at yon I feel called npon to treat myself ell. Besides, he'll never "miss it." Mies wba/t?" ehe asked, innocently or by design falling into his trap. "A kiss," he answered. "You'll let me kave one, Ulrica?" Miss Buffkin was saved the trouble of de-al- JOg with the perhaps embarrassing—reqxiest the appeara/noe of Gage, who oame uip ?°niewihat heated and resentful, followed by Z?"7y Ormstork, whose face wore the look hioh dowager pee re-pes wear when their ■Watts, matrimonial and financial, succeed. CHAPTER XXIX. Gage, eoi-disant Quorn, was, to put it mudly, anything but pleased at Peckover's anoerrvre. Nevertheless, he did not take first opportunity of proposing to the fas- Hating Miss iiuffkin. In point of fact he re.ferred the role of Philander to that of enediok. He was in no hurry to settle ~i°,WT1. however strongly the superb Ulrica rJ1Sht tempt him to matrimony. He was than rich enough to treat her wealth 46 a negligible quantity, added to which he fl"ired to taste the sweets of life as dished :}P to a bachelor peer, and this was the rjfst of them which had not turned sour in ais mouth. Jtaturally, he was not going to allow any Pjterferenoe or competition on the part cf 11,18 paid confederate, Peckovor. That gentle- had, he considered, put off the trap- of nobility for a handsome considera- and was in honour bound not to staTt 7"11 opposition business on his own acctrant to obtain credit in the guise of a gP^llionaire within an equitable radius from ^aplewick, or, indeed, from the person, ^j^rever it might be, of the peer by pur- The first practice of the scheme not having reduced the desired effect, namely, a pro- «^°SaI, it was arranged to repeat it next day, €hage was too resentfully wide-awake to taken in again. He stuck to Peckover •Jth all the persistency, and much more ^n the annoyance, of his shadow, and Rally took care as the hour of their visitors' <jrew near to post himself at the J°l,1t of inteTceptance, the wily Peckover tna.ming at the house in a state of tanta,lis- |> discomfiture. .^t Lady Ormstork, who had not lived in in a world where even peeresses play "■eat my neighbour," was equal to the occa- and more than equal to the suddenly jj.^rt Mr. Gage. Perhaps she had anticipated ^s ttove; anyhow, she was prepared with Prompt counter. j "7s Gteige met the carriage by the lodge, the *iolVer' 'Je'TL^ either new or instructed, did j^t Pull up for a hundred yards or so. Then Ooranstork quickly alighted, and the rriage bowled on at a good pace towards To-wers. With a wealth of amiability the lady •h ^noed towards Qag-e, who was hurrying J^'th a lowering face. Where's Miss Buffkin?" he cried in a cold, j^Perated voice. Ormstork held ont both hands gush- "8»_. delighted to come again. So I ««^et of yon to have us!" she crowed, ^^ttother quite heavenly day. And the <t^^f>old park looking more lowly than where's Miss Buffkir," Gage demanded ^sely, clntohing the old lady's double- toji hands and thinking unutterable dear "Ulrica is rather tired," was the >^sibly artles? reply. "She went for a to the Scotton Woods this morning. So ^Ulr go'n'e on 'n the carriage, and will e herself at home till we come. I am e that yo-u, as the soul cf hospitality, will that." I • Gage looked as though he did mind it Qiuoh, indeed. However, he shut his >V perhaps to keep back the unspeakable, ••fjbegan to move on towards the house. TNark is truly delightful to-day," I ,l31>ed has companion with studied na.p- The air is simply life-giving. Do stroll up by the beach avenue, dear

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Lord Quorn. It is a sin to hurry indoors on an afternoon like this. Ulrica will not mind." Gage's face suggested thoughts too poignant for words. "Shall we stroll round by the rhododen- dron walk?" Lady Ormstork suggested with a fine air of ignorance of anything abnor- I mal in the situation. Must go up to the house first," Gage insisted bluntly, his rage being almost too great for coherent epeech. Was on my way there when you drove in. Just remem- bered forgot to give Bisgood an important order." Oh, then, do let us go by all means," the lady assented graciously, her heartiness stimulated by a wave of satisfaction in thinking that the proposal could not be far off now. "If only you had told us you might have got into the carriage and driven up with Ulrica. What a pity." Considering the steps she had taken to obviate such a contingency this was a. eome- what bold speech on Lady Ormstork's part. But the grand manner carries a certain, if not altogether convincing, plausibility with it, and disarms rude censoriousness. So they walked towards the house together, the gracious dowager finding, as was natural, the slight incline up to the Towers rather against anything like pace. We have had rather a disagreeable sirr- prise to-day," said Lady Ormstork, summon- ing back to her side the irritated Gage, whose impatience kept him farther in front of her than politeness might have dictated. "Oh?" he responded discouragingly, wish- ing she would keep her breath for the pedes- trian effort and defer conversation till the Towers and the elusive Mies Buffkin were i reached. "Yes!" she proceeded. "I think I told you—or was it Mr. Gage?—of a very pereis- tent suitor of dear Ulrica's, the Duke of Salolja, a fiery S-paniard, who had been pay- ing her great attention in town lact sea-son. In fact, it was mainly to escape his impor- tumitiee that we came down here." "Oh! Then you didn't come to see Staple- wick?" he observed between chafing and chaffing. That ivao my object," the lady main- tained with dignity. And I brought dear lilriea with me to Great Bunbury as to a sanctuary, where we could be safe from the duke. Judge, then, of our embarrassment when, driving up the High-street, we saw him coming from the station." Awkward, if you've been fed up on him in town and don't want any more," Gage commented. Very. He proposed five times at least to Ulrica, and would not take a refusal." It's a way they have in Spain, I believe," remarked Gage, wondertng gloomily how this new development might interfere with his amusement. "Still," continued Lady Ormstork, "as I thank I told Mr. Gage, one cannot h^ve the dear girl forced into a. marriage, even with a Spanish duke, against her inclination. One cannot blame him, poor man; she is lovely and altogether most adorable; but from our point of view why should she exile herself in Spain for the sake of a man she does not care for," "Why, indeed?" assented Gage, wandering what the odds were on the Spanish duke being a creature of the old lady's imagina- tion. Meanwhile, the fatigued Miss Buffkin had oome as an agreeable surprip-6 upon the baffled Peckover, and that alert opportunistt had lost no time in making the most of his good fortune. Dear old Ormstork has hooked Qnorn down by the lodge," she explained laugh- ingly. But I expect they'll be up here before long by the look on his face as she fastened on him and he saw me bowling on up here." shouidwt wonder," said: Pectowr with a grin. Well, if we've got to maloe him ieaJous, don't let's lose any time in pre- liminaries." Mr. Gage, you are too absurd," Ulrica remarked, as she unwound her feather vioto- rine. "D:il't see much absurdity in that, sugges- tion, anyhow," he rPtumed. Whatt's the good of a chance if yon don't take it?" We need not exactly iILOItin earnest," she suggested. I've always thought tfaa$make-believe was poor sport," he rejoined engagingly. "We were gettimg on nicely yesterday, if only-" Ah, yes," she oomtmu-ed archly, "there's always an 'if only'—" If only," he continued, Quorn wasn't on our track. We need not be in such a hurry t.o say what's uppermost in our minds. As it is—" His arm seemed to her alert eyes to have a caressing twitch about it. Shall we go out into the garden?" she proposed, by a plausible manoeuvre putting the table between them. Too many men about setting the place straight," he objected knowimgl7. Safer here, and snugger, too, Ulrica!" "Oh, Mr. Gage!" she expostulated, as by a swift dart he got round to her side of the table. Ulrica," he said seriously, for since yes- terday a wild design and hope had taken possession of him, Ulrica, need you merry Quorn? Tell me, like a dear girL Y<m don't love him as much as all that, do you?" She laughed. "How do you know? I'm not going to tell you." It's only for the title," he pleaded, feverishly anxious to arrive at an under- standing while the chance lasted- "That's nothing. It can be bought if you go the right way about it. Ulrica, I don't believe you like him as well as you like me. Tell me you don't. Tell me the troth, dearest." He seized her hands insistently. There was no doubt about his earnestness, and she could hardly laugh at him now. "I like you well enough," she answered. "Darling!" he cried, with genuine rapture. "Then you'll marry me? w't you? Say 'Yes.' You're your own mistress. Say you'll marry me?" How can I?" she laughed evasively. 'Tve got to marry Quorn." Because he's a lord?" She nodded. "Is that a.11 P" She shrugged. "You like me best?" You're more my sort," ehe was fain to answer. "But it is no good." Then, suddenly breaking' away, she said, "I've just seen another of my admirers, a real Spanish duke." Oh, that chap! I've heard of him,J said Peckover with sovereign contempt. "Well, you wouldn't look at him again?" "I d,aren't," she replied. "I was afraid he'd see me." "You leave him to me," said Peckover in his grand m-&-nfnor. I'll settled the dook. I'll slice the top off the Spanish onion. Ulrica, you'll have me? Hang the title. Have t,he man you like." She looked at him. He was very different from the reckless little fugitive who had nnce tried to put an end to his existence at the Quorn Arms. Prosperity, high living, and a general good- time had transformed him, smartened him up, and, backed by a certain native shrewdne^ss, made him fairly presentable. Still—Ulrica laughed. Her ideas and original breeding were but middle- class in spite of her wealth and expensive education. But for certain successful specu- lations on the part of Buffkin pere (who knew his striking limitations, and wisely kept in the background) there would have been nothing very unequal in the mating of his daughter with Peckover. And, after all, in spite of the transmuting power of wealth, of changed circumstances and surroundirtigs, human nature has always a tendency to seek and revert to its old level, to. find most pleasure and ease in the society of those who are as it once was. So it was that she made answer to her eager wooer. I like you well enough, but a rich girl can't choose as she likes." "I should have thought," he urged, "she can like where she chooses." So she can," Ulrica rejoined. But ehe can't marry him." I'm just as much a gentleman as Quorn," he argued. He happens to have the title, but I might have bad it and flttedtlhe part just as well as he," he added with hidden truth. So you might," she agreed. But you haven't got it. And that makes all the difference." I'll get one if Y'Ol1'H marry me," he pleaded, vaguely optimistic on the subject. Then he fancied he heard Gage's voice out- side. I say," lie urged with desperate affection, "here thev come. Quick. If you love me give me a kiss." I don't know that I do," she objected, her voice rising to a half scream of remon- strance as clutched her. Give me the benefit of the doubt," be insisted, drawing her face towards him. But before his lips could reach hers, Lady Otmstork's slhrill voice called, "Ulrica!" The handle of the door was turned, and Peok- over sprang guiltily over as much carpet as he ocnid cover from that interesting take- off as Gage buret in upon, them with a face of suppressed fury, which was not diminished by the obviouis snggestiveoaess of the atti- tudes of the conscious pair. CHAPTER XXX: "Look here, old man," sa-id Gage to Peck- over, as they settled down to their cigars after dinner, "you're not playing the game." "WhaJt about?" his confederate inquired blandly. He had felt from Gage's sulky attitude all d'inner that something was coming, and was, consequently, prepared for it. "YouT carrying on with Ulrioo. Buffkin," was the blunt answer. She is my girl, and you know that as well as I do." It's not in our oomtraot that all the girls belong to you," Peckover suggested gently. Gage frowned. She came for me. She was after me," he returned in an exaspe- rated tone. That was the arrangement. And I don't pay you five thousand a year to interfere in my love affairs." It's not my fault," Peckover urged coolly, having drunk champagne sufficient for a reckless enjoyment of the controversy, "if the girl fancies a change. It's your business to make yourself sufficiently interesting to keep her affection. If you don't, well, I may as well take her on as any other fellow." Don't you talk a lot of conceited non- sense," retorted Gage, keeping down his fury with an effort. "The girl's all right; but she's led by your infernal monkey tricks into thinking that I'm neglecting her, so, natur- ally, she pretends to take up with you." Well, that's one way of looking a.t it," Peckover shrugged with vinous sarcasm. It's the only intelligent way," Gage returned. "From your point of view," his friend re- joined, tossing off a glass of port wine. It's from my point of view t-hat we've got to look at the affair," Gage said, with rising anger, for the other's coolness and confidence were more exasperating than his words. And," he proceeded, banging his fist on the table, "my view of the case is that if you don't stop your little game and sheer off the Buffkin there's going to be a row." "I wouldn't," observed Peckover sent^n- tiously, have anything to do with a girl, however good-looking, for whom my sole attraction was my title, and who didn't mind showing as mii-ch." Has she told you that?" Gage snapped. Peckover shrugged. "Pra-etically." Of course," Gage returned with an ugly mouth, that's because fih-e's huffy with me, thinking I'm not so keen on her as I ought to be, and you are." I suppose her feelings don't count," PecIt- over retorted, being pretty sure of himself with the fair Ulrica. "Mine do, at any rate," Ga.ge declared wrathfully. I've been humbugged enough over this precious title. And as to your expecting me first to take on your revolting Australian pet and then to give up a girl like Ulrica Buffkin, why, you don't diagnose my character right, that's all. This is my show. I'm paying for it, and I'm going to run it." Then," returned Peckover, still cool and unmoved by his friend's thumping and shouting, you'd better make it your busi- ness to see who that is prowling round the booth." Gage's irate eyes followed Peckover's nod to the window. Outside, just discernible in He ran de Fulano through the hegt. the dusk, the figure of a man was moving to 1 and fro. Gage jumped up and threw open the French window. "Who are you? What do you want b-?" he demanded in a rough and unnecessarily loud tome. Peckover rose and lounged against the mantelpiece, cigar in mouth, lazily interested in the encounter. The man outside stopped, turned, brought his heels together, and made a low bow. HaTe I the honour to address myself to his Excellency the Lord Quorn?" he asked in a high-pitched voice and foreign accent. You have. What do you want?" was the ill-matching, even brutal, reply. The man approached the window; then bowed again. I have the honour of the friendship of the most gracious Lady Orm- stork," he said. As one who enjoys that privilege, I trust I may not be regarded as a trespasser." He spoke with such ceremonious politeness that Gage was shamed into gulping down his ill-humour and softening his mode of address. Wlhat cam I do for yon?" he inquired. "I have," said the stranger with another courteous flourish, "already given myself the high pleasure of surveying yonr charming park and castle by moonlight. It is roman- tic, it is enchanting. And, now, there but remains to me to "crave the honour of a- gh-ort conference with your lordship. Am I permitted, then, to flatter myself that my request is granted?" "011, yes. Step in," said Gage, not over- cordially. Before I so .unceremoniously cross the threshold of your window," observed the man with another bow, "permit me to announce myself—my name and condition." With more flourishes he produced a pocket- book almost entirely covered with an immense gold coronet and cypher, extracted therefrom a card of unusual ditnensrens, and, with a deep bow, presented it to Gage, who drew 'back into the light, glanced at it, and showed it with a. wink to Peckover, that worthy .greeting the information it conveyed with a low whistle of amusement. Your friend—?" said the stranger with a low bow to Peckover. Mr. Gage." Ah? I have heard of him, too. Mr. Gage, I have the honour." And he bowed again. When at last he resumed an upright posi- tion with some prospect of permanency the friends could see what manner of man the stranger looked. He was small, wiry, and rather bald. His bristling moustache turned up from under the longest nose and above the most prominent jaw nearly into the fiercest eyes they had ever seen. With less aggressively piercing eyes he would have been rather a comical figure; as it was, except when he shut them (which he had a trick of doing), or hid them by bowing, he was no laughing- matter. His jutting chin wore a closely-clipped Vandyck bea.rd, and his clothes were black. Both men, as they regarded him, tried to persuade themselves that they were amused, without, however, the result being quite con- vincing. I have the honour," said the sttranger, inclining his head and shutting his eyes, "to reqticet-I do net say demand—the grace of a few words with my Lord Quorn and his honourable friend." "Have a glass of wine?" Gage proposed. The stranger made a stately gesture of refusal. "We have a proverb in my oountry, Spain," he said, 'The thistle before the fig.' You are too kind. Bat, with your permis- sion, I will defer the acceptance of your gracious hospitality for the present." Not a cigar?" Peckover suggested, push- ing along the box. Again the pantomime of refusal. "At con- siderable pain to myself, I must decline—at least, till I have done my poor best to make myself understood," the man replied, with his eyes shut. Nevertheless, you will not impose upon me the heavier penalty of see- ing you forego the enjoyment of your own cigars?" They bowed, none the less appreciatively, that neither man had entertained the slightest inteittion of doing so. But they were strangely subdued. Somehow, ridicu- lous as they assured themselves it was, the stranger's personality chained and fasci- nated them. He was a Mttle man with an absurd nose, but they found themselves staring at him, drinking in every detail, every flourish, as he drew forward a chair with a gesture of asking permission, then eat down and faced them with a quiet mas- tery of the situation which was horribly disconcerting. So they in a silence î vprobe-dta, haif fltdzxical, for bdm to begin, not without a shrewd idea of the pur- port of the approaching communication. At length, with a preliminary flourish of a ringed haind and an effective raising and dropping of the fierce eyes, he began. You will have already graciously noted by the acceptance of my poor card that it is the Duke of Salolja, Hereditary Grand Sword Bearer to his Most Gracious Majesty the King of Spain, Lord Keeper of the Royal Vaults, Duke also of Bswalta, M-arquess of ¡ Risposta, with many other titles and offices, and a Grandee of Spain"—at the recital of each succeeding dignity he raised his voice till, at the culminating title, the reverbera- tion made the glass rattle-" who has the honour to address your grace." Both men bowed, and, at the same time, did their best not to feel much smaller than the diminutive duke who held them as an under-sized rattlesnake might fascinate a couple of finches. "I must begin," said the duke, with what looked like the dangerous calm of a quies- cent volcano, by craving your grace's most amiable patience while I toucii, very briefly, on a few points which stand out in my family history, the chronioles of the noble House of Salolja, of which I have the honour I to be the present unworthy representative." Peckover glanced at Gage, and his look said, Family history. We've got hold of a crank," and they both looked less uneasy. I Families have their characteristics and idiosyncrasies," pursued t.he duke, nodding his head to a.nd fro sententiously. In my country, Spain, this is peculiarly the case. Family tradition is strong, it is tenacious, inexorable, immovable." At each succeeding adjective hi-3 voice rose til! it reached the climax in an intense scream. Then he dropped back quite casually into a conver- sational tone, and proe;ded- It is a notorious tradition in my fa.mily that we never suffer an interloper in affairs of the heart." The faces of his two listeners indicated a realisation that he was now coming to busi- ness, and their interest visibly quiokened. "In the year," the duke threw back hie head, as though searching for the date in the ceiling, "1582, my noble ancestor, Alfonzo do Ra.lolja, was pleased to love a Castilian lady of great hea-uty. Donna In do Madrazo. A certain vain Hidalgo, one Lorez de Fulano, was ra«h enough to cast eyes on her and enter the lists with him. Alfonzo did not insult the lady by quest ion- iny her preference. He ran de Fulano through the heart. His blood is still to be seen on the'Toledo Wade which hangs in my poor psla^e in Segovia." He paused to let the anecdote soak in He paused to let the anecdote soak in before pouring out another. His audience I looked interested, but uncertain in what spirit to take the recital. Nearly a hundred years after that," the duke resumed, chattily rernnteoent, "a rash Frenchman, the Comte de Gaufrage, suffered himself to indulge a passion for the lovely Donna Astoria de Rivaz Cortano, heiress of the do Rivaz lands and wealth. Duke Miguel de Salolja, who at that date represented my honoured family, heard of this hretach of punctilio on the morning of the day he had appointed for offering the fair Astoria his hand and dukedom. By noon the Comte de Gaufrage was in Purgatory and Duke Miguel in Paradise." ) "Both killed?" asked Gage. M3 him on't?*' suggested TYrkover. tonesya^0e8t<>r'" the dwke rep,lied in stately die tilf* t+,-1*ith a of th* eyes> "did not to his J^rty ,">ea'TS later' Axti-" he turned wave oHh^ KqT*Tti?ner >,tb a bow and a Excedlency V t0 te11 yoUT stooped to'' f ♦ Saloljas ever not enter °Ut- *7™ term We do shorter anw We have a more effectual way I mav coffin nandtD\n00n C°Inte was in his lady." Uke Miguel accepted by the to -snub their densen^s elucidation with I* tb« For a faint and mept jsmi'le. the duke satni^nwi r^'a6 sitenoe were the \vi i™100*0' ,c°nfident in, as it ■wtoich he haJ? of llomici,dal tradition in Then wmW°d Mmself. two jump aor whk* the their nerves he beginning to get on stained na^Xe h,isUood' family Dtrait>Ver inaT,y instances of this modern times C°"!e ,to comparatively pened to e mld "it hap- tofero to ^fa-t-rrandfather, Duke Ohris- unknown to Pr,mc* de Oarmona, the danwh+.o,w. other, loved two sisters, *the Man*"is Montalban. their both determined to serenade arrived aTtt?'* ]ad>lwoR- When the duke came upon castle ho hear<1 » guitar, and the unfortunate Prince beneath when he wa«°I tl>e aP»rtments. Only Prince's 1cir;wil^ his rapier out of the Donna Maria nR learn that it was the cornnlim aT?C' not ^anna Lota for whom xiSo^t *nt hK<J in^ded. It was trateth« 4 n^erthelms, it tends to ilius- woTkir.g of the traditional law which governs our house." Oh, I b"lieve that sort of mistake fh lit i^ n in the good old times," was confident remark of Peok- fe5t he must make a stand against this sanguinary catalogue. k t„>>,+ thR duke's remarkable eyes brought any further tendency to volubility to a full stop. Suoh occurrences," he said pointedly, are, pardon me, by no means confined to bye-gone time.s. flie traditions of my house will end only when my ra/ce is a thing of the past. In the year—to venture with your courteous permiion to resume—in the year 1841 a titled compatriot of your own, Sir Digby Prior. allowed himself at one of the Escurial balls the freedom of paying-too much attention to my father's fiancee, the sainted lady whofe unworthy 8011 I have the honour to be. X-ext morning they met on the Buon Retiro Park, whence in that same hour 8'1' Digby was carried with a bullet in his brain. Ye, He sighed reflec- tively. It is not, perhaips, a cheerful or agreeable record; still, it is curious and interesting to trace the same inevitable characteristic of our blood in almost each succeeding generation." Very," Gage agreed. "Most singular," Peckover chimed in mechanically, as he tried to fall into a poee of polite indifference under the duke's eye. Th-e little man received their appreciative commonplaces with a grave bow. We have now arrived at a point," he said, glaring at them, but spesuking with quiet, if significant, cldi, "when it becomes my duty to cla.im the honour of your unwavering altten- tion." The request was in the highest degree -an- necessary. Both men were incapable of greater heed than they were already giving. "Now it's coming," was the simultaneous and uneasy thought in their minds. But I fear the politeness with which your graces lrav>e brought yourselves to listen to my long preamble has caused your citrars to extintruisih themselves," remarked the duke, with an arabassadbrial smile. "Pray let me have the supreme pleasure of seeing you re-light them." (To be continued.)