The Cardiff Times

OUR NEW SERIAL. ———————————<!————————— [Now First Published.] HERR PAULUS: A His RISE, HIS GREATNESS, AND HIS FALL. By WALTER BESANT, author of "All Sorts and Conditions of Men," &c., &c. [THE RIGHT or TRANSLATION IS RESERVED.) BOOK THE SKCOND. CHAPTER I.-IN THE STUDIO. Carved wood; not at all; it was a simple room built out at the side of the house; not originally intended for a studio, but yet serving very well for one. The house to which it belonged was an old-fashioned square red brick house, still Grounded by a bit of its old gardeD, which had' '*n extensive, and could still show apple and pea.. trees; and still bad some of the old red brick wal! standing at the end of it, 1,1088 and lichen covered, crowned with 1tallflowers. The studio served at the same time a keeping-room. But it was a studio first, here was an easel at which one of the girls was ^tiding; on a table beside it were the usual 1Briplements of the craft: a quantity of drawings R44 etches and half-finished things were pinned gainst the wall and lay piled upon the chairs and 'ven stacked upon the floor. A lay fiKtlle-nothing 00 horribly human as a lay figure or so piteous ghostly in its silenco and the horror of its "*Jplegsnes8—stood in a corner, its hsad serving as a peg for a bonnet, while its arms carried 'tiflUv, und«r protest, a jacket and a silk hand- kerchief and a veil. On tlie re sideatial side, so to 'Peak, of the furniture there were a few chairs, I' sli-ibby, wore carpet, a small round table, and a tarti black sofa. But the hardness of the sofa was litigated by soft and prstty wraps, sliawls, 4ktd woollen things which made it look oriental tikd splendid, and the shabby carpet was bidden 6Y rugs, while the general poverty of the room, lk4o8e paper and paint had not been renewed for 144"Y years, was redeemed by the pretty things from thd wall or standing on the mantel- j* '• And there was everywhere such a *venly litt er as proved that the occupant could yer have belonged to. a large family of girls, all in the same room, and, therefore, taught, in a large family mast be taught, that religion is always proved by tidiness. The ^'Pant was clearly a girl, apart from the *^etice of the young lady at th^ easel—gloves veil lay on the table, and there wa» a ^'niue atmosphere in the room. She was also ffrl, one could perceive, who read a good deal, the sofa rea* piled with books, and i were banging shelve* also tilled with and magazines. Most of tha books belonged Mia dear, delightful, much-abused tribe of y*eI*» The room, io fact, made a comfortable ^*pibg room large enough to walk about in and «old plenty of things and to contain quite an litter; it did very well also for a studio, tj1 a strong light ia the proper quarter, but it been built for a very different purpose. In ''ouse adjoining, Mrs Lavinia Madlook, in the day a when she was more tlwm llhistrioas— ^ybody can be illustrious, but not everybody Jj* be fashionable—Mid every day her BOW ft<*orioal seance* Those days are gone—this is 'lot wondaciut, because all old days are gorte-and *itli them& is g,)ne Lavinia's greatness. She then *Ore t" lines* arid newest of satin dresses and Veived the best of company. Her friends came day long tli^y came in omnibuses, in cabs, in jjough am*, and in statuly chariots they had all of titles to their-names, from plain Miss distress to Gracious Duchess and even Highness tLey came by appointment and tbL Ut!' would not be denied, and because v drawing room was not large enough—it had J/?1* formerly the front parlour—Lavinia built a 1 °n at the side of the house for the reception of th r friends, those in the flesh and those out of it. e former, who concealed as much of the flesh as cuuld in furs, jackets, cloaks, and other things tl 83 not to make the spirits jealous by the ,0v* of what they themselves lacked, were not footed to the house by Lavinia's appearance, was homely, nor by her conversation, which aii plain, nor by her manners, which spoke of ^aitt omissions in early training, but by the re- J^tion she possessed of being the finest inter- in the world of things said and done out of it, q tha most favourite medium know u to the spirits. ^6jtain it is that you could, by Lavinia'a help, eon- with any spirit you chose to call. So affable t d.condescending were they, or so powerful was b: influence of Laviuia, that the most illustrious koicit possible to name would come if invited, converse with the most obscure, and answer question, even the most impertinent, as to j ,e»r own Inppiness or the happiness of their eticlst. The immortal Homer, the equally im- v0ttnl Baid of Avon, Sir Walter Scott, Lord *>11, Milton himself, or Charles the -birst j/ld not disdain to rap out a message, dictate a or show personal acquaintance with the 1 llirei's great aunt. Oh these are old stories, I am talking of oljj days; yet they are but the day before yesterday. Do we not remem- r how scoffers used to call attention to the fact 'Ht our knowledge of the other world was never j?vanced an inch, and that the messages were trash 1 Do we not remember bow the j war* proved to have told the most bare- ( *ced and to hava perpetrated tlte most j tatonnding blunders? Do we not remember how I Lavinia herself was shown up in scientific journals j ">r having caused to speak spirit of u living j*rson and another of a person who bad never lved? Nay, we may remember more than this, nr it is on record that none of these exposures 'M attacks seemed to injure Lavinia until a fatal jkiug happened to her. She ceased to be the ^liiou. She drew no loncsr: she excited no curiosity. As for the credulity of people, at can never be exhausted, and any man among my brothers, who desires to get notoriety and in clover has only to pretend to do what cannot do, and to be what he is not, in order /'Rain his desire* for a while. Lavinia ceased to 6 talked about. Then the people all went off to text show and deserted her, and she began to *'1 into poverty. All that she had in the world this house, which aha had fortunately boughs the time of fatness, and a email and yearly .finishing clientele of those who still believed in just as they would have believed in Joanna °lthcote, and employed her, as they would have '^ployed a wise woman, and inquired of the I 44cle, after the fashion of the ancients, in the aff airs. I She now received this scanty remnant in the u front parlour," and let the studio and a bed- to an artist when she could find a lodger. f*er present lodger was an American girl, who lv«d alone and travelled alone, with more than £ 'e average independence of her country. She lived thus alone in Rome and iu Florence, was now working at her profession alone in But she was a girl who made many ''ends, and was never roally alone. ,t The clause in the creed of women which say?, ^e believe that it is impossible for a girl to live °ne," has been of late years so much questioned attacked that some think it will have to be ^Uck out of the creed altogether, iu which case, ks the Conservative, what will become of the rest "that sacred and ark-like monument? In fact, ^°ini?n who work for their living have long since '"covered tliat it is a elanse which has nofounda- in the eternal verities, because in every j°*a there, are eirls who mnst live alone. In ^fcdon there are thousands; they live with each 6r» sharing rcoms they live in the places ^J^re they work they Jive in boarding houses, they are rich enongh they live, as this *itf-°* ^ve^» 'n their own lodgings, with a "m-room as well as a bedroom, and in a soli- which is pleasing after the work of the day. "Usands and thousands of girls in this city, ^ork girls, like certain poor friends of ours, C 8'riu of respectable parents and responsible tot whose self-respect is as great as that of Joung lady who lives at home. They are l8*s of all kinds, musicians, singers, governesses degree, writers, chiefly of small fiction, O^^ers and journalists, shop girls, saleswomen, H^te, translators, type-writers—I say nothing stresses, because they have long since ttf the Woman's Creed to the winds—women Ik. Professions and trades. They live alone; T thq tetqhkey they go wbwr<) t%iy will; T thq tetqhkey they go wbwr<) t%iy will; they ask for and they need no protection; they are not in the least afraid. As for one of these girls, the slighter of the two, the girl with the light brown bair and the hazel eyes, you have seen her before when she was paint- ing in the Americaa garden and taJftingtoapoetic youth. This is Bethiah Kuysdael, who i¡¡ now known to her friends as Kitty, I believe because she thinks Kitty prettier than Bethiah, as it ia, per- haps, though not so uncommon. The other girl, the girl with the great black limpid eyes and the pale cheek and full figure, is the daughter of Lavinia the Grent—-Hetty Medlock. She bad been standing for a model, a- kerchief tied about her bead, and the early spring sunshine fell tbroagh the window and painted her face through the crimson silk, and made her cheek glow and her eyes burn like coals. She wae standing for a Neapolitan, I believe: or, perhaps, it was a Bohemian, or au Irish peasant, or, indeed, an Andalusian or a Catalonian. But, in reality, the picture came out a fine likeness of Hetty, and a very beautiful portrait it was, though the painting had faults of colour. The carnations, some said, were brutal. The light, some said-but what matter what they said ? "Now, Hetty dear," said the American girl, you must be tired. Take a rest." Hetty threw off the handkerchief and came round to the easel to look at the picture. Kitty," she said, it is beautiful." You like it, really ? Yes. I do think it is pretty good. How giad- I am that I painted out the first hideous thing Yes. But it was like, too." Oh like-" the artist repeated, im. patiently. I dare say it was like— But you were dull and downcast, Hetty. And now you have changed. It seems to me as if another look altogether had come into your face since I began to paint you a month ago. You are ten times as lovely, Hetty." Hetty blushed. Another look, she. koew, bad come into her face. I suppose," she said, still blushing, it is because we have all become so much happier." Oh You mean. the German person who pretends." Don' Kitty. Oh J You don't know what be has done." Why, dear, be is only a —— No, Kitty, be is more—far more than that. It is no common spiritualism. The most wonderful things happen every day. He takes MrBrudenel into far-off countries—" "Hetty!" And he teaches Lady Augusta the most wonderful things, and be talks to Cicely and to n:e as nobody, I am sure, ever talked before." "Oh, but Hetty — He is not at all a solemn person, with airs and pretences; but just a. young man full of life and spirits. Even Tom and Sibyl, wh& wiU not confess that they believe in biro, like him. The house ia so lively that you would not know it again. We talk and laugh at dinner. Mr Brudenel ia no longer pompous, and Lady Augusta laughs with us. And there is no more qnestion a.t all about conversing with spirits. Paul says that we may converso with as many alt we like, but that on the lower plane they will only mock at us and deceive us. When we reach tbe higher plane we are to be brought face to face with the spirits who cannot lie." Hetty, do you believe all this?" "Kityy," the girl dropped her voice to a whisper, "I declare that if there is anybody iu the world who ought to hate spiritualism it is myself. Oh! I cannot tell you aU. It has ruined my mother aad driven away my father, and made my name a by-word. Oh one day last winter somebody read aloud in my presence Browning's Sludge the Medium,' and I prayed that the earth would open and swullow me. But enD I cannot doubt any longer the power that Herr Paulus possesses." Wbat; does he do with his power.) ? Why does he come here? If a man really had such powers, he would employ tbem, surely, to make some fresh discovery for the welfare of the human race. Consider, my dear, if be would only destroy one single disease." I can only believq ia what he says. He has bectw seat by bis Friends to teach philosophy in the West." • "Why has he been sent?" "I do not know." "All the tlungs you Uavatold me about bun are wonderful. But so is oenjuring. It is wonderful when a plum pudding is made in a bat." Hetty shook her head. "You do not understand. Oh! wehav^beeu all our lives living close to the othwr world, within reach of conversation, but we have never been told anything worth bearing, and this matt cotnes and tells us the most beautiful things, and does the most wonderful thioga." Hetty paused. When I think of the things he tells us my brain will not work. I cannot tell you what they aw; but while he is speaking your heart glows and you are ftill of the most lovely thoughts. Cicely says that he opens the gates of Heaveu—but we forget when wo come back to earth what we have seen there. Oh it is wonderful." Hetty-take care." Every day he makes Cicely see her brotbefat- sea. Sometimes he reads our thoughts, sometimes he makes me-but only in onr own room—say and do all kind of things; sometimes he—yes, Kitty- he works miracles forns. Reading, he says, is too slow for us, and ho makes us feel in a moment, and ten times as strongly, all that one feels when one reads a beautiful poem. And he is so hand- Bome. There is not a man in the world so hand- some as Paul. Not broad-shouldered and jolly looking like Tom Langston, but delicate and pale, with eyes which go right into your very soul." Hetty Kitty repeated, taka pare this is dangerous." Hetty blushed, but she laughed. Dangerous Oh, no there is no danger, I dare say any girl might fall in love with him, but he—oh he is far, fur above any girl: she misfit as well fall in love with the moon." < Fortunately, Miss Langston cannot see those eyes of his." She can feel them. And ia a moment she became his servant." Does Mr Brudenel know all this ? Why, of course, he does not lay his will upon us before people —since the nn,t evening. But Mr Brudeuel is as much under him as we Me He has conquered the whale house. Hecurettht servants of toothaches and things. Yesterday he overpowered the butler and made him oonfess his whole past life and his rogueries—he ia the master of the house." "Strange!" said Kitty. "I wonder how it will end?^ "He will go away soon and leave us all miser- able for life," said Hetty. Well, one will remember. And oh! how stupid aud dull alt other men seem beside him. Ithink-Eitty, I am quite sure—that he has lived for thousands of years, and that his name is Apollo." "Well, dear, I hope he will go away soon. It seems to me that the atmosphere of the house i? unwholesome." Yes he will go away soon. And then——" Hetty broke off with a sigh. U Don't let U8 talk about him any more," she said. She began idly to turn over some sketches in a portfolio. Suddenly she started and snatched up a drawing in chalk. It was study of a head, showing the back and giving a little outline of the cheek. ''Who is this?" she askbd.. That is the head of a very old frvend of mine*—* a IIChoolfellow. Poor, ùear, Zilili It is exactly like the head of Herr Panlus." Is it? I drew it in the garden day before Ziph went away to New York." What did he go there for?" She still kept looking at the picture. II e was a poet. He went there to sell hiB poetry. "OhI" Hetty put down the picture. "Only a pcet! And I fear be came to grief, because after three or four mouths nothing mure was heard of him. And his parents could never get the least clue to what became of him. They think that he failed, and took to drink, and died. He was always delicate, and drink kills very rapidly in America. Poor, dear Ziph He was going to do such splendid things. He had a portmanteau full of poems, and he was going to become famous, and he promised he would write to me and tell me of his grand successes. But he never sold me ofanv, and that portrait is all I have of my IScnQolfellow:,1 Were you in love with him ?" No, Hetty, I think not. But I was fond of him. He wanted sympathy and some one to talk with and confide in. and 1 was handy for him. I was very proud of him. But not in love at least, I supposerl was not. Poor Ziph What was his name ?" "Ziphion B. Trinder. I called him Ziph. His father kept a store—what you would call a general øbop-in the little town where my father was a lawyer. But Ziph would nt.1t weigh ont tea and sugar, and measure yards of calico; nor would be study law, which, in our country, is the only way to become President." Ziphion Trinder. It is a funny name. Ob how like the head is to Paul!" In New England some of us stiil have funny names. They chtistened me Bethiah, for in- stance, though you call me Kitty. I changed my Christian name, you see, because Butbiah ia, somehow, impossible out of New England. Poor Ziph He is a genius, and the leaafe fit person in the world to struiigle for himself. He must be dead, or t should have heard something about him long since. Poor Ziph A tear Btood in her eye as she laid down the picture. It is like Paul," øaid Hetty. It is wonderful." CHAPTER IL-Isf THE OTHER ROOM. A house is a theatre with many stages, on which many plays may be going on all at the same tune, with nu front," unless M. le Diabl. Boiteux takes out a sid. of each NOla. Thus, while two girls full of their future talked in the studio, two old people with little but their past talked in the front parlour, which no longer pre- tended to be a drawing-room. Here Lavinia Medlock carried on, but in a small way, thft I business of wise woman, adviser, and in- | terpreter for the intelligences. Ia this soiwtrjjj, if t, ia a street and tells fortunes by cards, the police run, her in, and the magistrate gives her two months, and her house ;« broken up, and her children are ruined for life, and she goes to the workhouse, and foretells misfortunes to the other collegians, for even in the workhouse there are still fresh misfortunes to encounter in the shape of aches and pains, and twists and tortures, beforo the chaplain finally puts on his surplice to do them honour I.y walking before them in a short ^rocessiA. Which shows how determined we are to suffer no witch to live in the land. But if a wonlan lives in a respectable house, and calls herself a medium and the chosen confidante of tbe spirits 'who dwell in the other world, she may do whatever she please without fear of police or magistrate. Which shows that we know how to distinguish. Spirit rire well known to choose for their favourite resotts, places and chambers which appear little desirable to cultivated man. It ii no business of ours. This room. for instance, was very shabby and humble. Yet to think of all that had gone on in it—the stances, manifesta- tions, levitations, table turnings, rappings, messages, counsels, oracles, letters, verse?, incarna- tions, spirit photographs, spirit songs, spirit humours* spirit hands, spirit kisses, spirit pinches, spirit tweak)n#s—wonderfui to think of. Aun the room wa? just the same 3IJ it was before the spirits canie at all, while her husband was still a clerk on a hundred and twenty pounds a year, and they let the first and second floor to pay the rent and taxes, and anything else they could get. The same chairs with black horsehair seats, the old biack sofa, the same old red paper, now faded and patched with other colours laid on by Time, who is a painter as well as a destroyer, and the same cupboard beside tie fireplace — Hetty's heart sank every morning at sight of it—the same great cupboard filled with stores of groceries and food. People who live in one room generally keep their tea, sugar, coffee, jam, cakes, pies, bacon, ham, butter, bread, and wine—only there never is any wine-in the big cupboard beside the fireplace. Last year I paid a visit to the Marsbalsea Prison and saw how Mr Dorrit and his companions lived. In every room there were great cupboards beside the fireplace for the reception of household stores, a fact which throws a flood of light upon the imprisonment of debtors. And as it was in the Marsbalsea prison, so it was in Mrs Medlock's ground floor front, except that there was no bed in it. Mrs Medlock sat in her professional chair at her professional table. She was exercising her profession. She was answering questions, solving difficulties, and consulting the spirits for her clients. Even in consulting tite spirits there is a fashion. Many of them who once came to con- sult them regularly had gone off in other direc- tions. They are now faith healers, captains in the Salvation Army, believers in the ten tribes, astrologers, votaries of palmistry, not to speak of Esoteric Buddhists. Somehow or other they get the same excitement, thouhh in different ways. But they consult the spirits no longer. It is only in New York that the spirits are still consulted in the practical conduct of life. This morning, however, Lavini.a Medlock had two visitors. The first was an elderly lady, richly dressed, who came in her carriage. She came once a week regularly, and used the spirit as a way of getting secret tips as to Stocks. She came in her own carriage: she was quick and imperious in her manner, and her eyes were exactly like small bright beads. Well, Lavinia," she said, sitting dowo, I'm very well satisfied on the whole with the last week's work. The spirits were right for once." I You know them too well," replied the Medium humbly, "to expect them to be always right," H After the awful losses they've caused me, I certainly do, Lavinia. Not that I blame you for it, you poor thing. You can't help it, thongh some- times I think there must be something wrong about your life, or your thoughts, or something. More holiness, Lavinia, more personal holiness, now, might attract a better class of spirit. Can't you try for more holiness—early celebration say,- or a hair shirt-or something ? Your usefulness- and your income—might be trebled." Lavinia shook her head. Well, never mind—now listen." She took a pocket book out of her bag and extracted a paper. Now, get an answer to all these questions. This lady, in fact, spent her whole life and gave her whole thoughts to speculations on the Stock Exchange. She was a. suspicious person, and mistrusted her broker, and as she bad no know- ledge of her own she turned for help to the spirits. Presently, after the usual business, and having got her answers, she gathered up her bag and pocket book and muff, and rose to go. OJ Lavioin," sbe said, think of what I said. More personal holiness, my dear." Half an hour later she had a second visitor. This time it was her old friend, Mr James Berry. He was a little spare old man, one of those who dry up as they grow older, and shrink. His head was ornamented with a thick crop of grey heir, and a couple of white and shaggy eyebrows. When Mr James Berry began to consult Lavinia, thirty yeaxs before, that grey hair was black. Otherwise, there was no change in him at all, either in dress or manner. As for the latter it WAS slow and precise. He was cer- tainly a methodical man—probably something in the city. Lavinia did not know what his profes- sion might bek. His convictions, based on certain startling replies to questions proposed, were now unallowable in apite of ma,ny rubs, and although the spirits sometimes treated him with mortifyiugr neglect and even mendacity. In all times of difficulty and doubt, when most men, find out the wisest tÜürse tiy examinåtion; weighty argument, reason and wakeful thoughts, Mr James Berry cast hinjself upon the spirits. That he was now, at sixty-five years of age, retired from active, work, nis savings all invested in shares of the Company in whose service he had been employed for fifty years, these shares producing fifteen per cent. on their first price was acknowledged by himself as due solely to the prudent counsels, be- stowed upon him by the spirits. That prudence, caution, good conduct, and thought had al^o something to do with it, may also be conceded. The spirits," he said, "may sometimes, when waggishly disposed, deceive and lead astray, and a wise man will look out for jokes, but in the long run they truly serve and advance the iuterests of those who trust them." When Mrs Medlock's popularity began to wane, this excellent disciple remained faithful when actual poverty fell upon her, he gave her money, and now, though his affairs seemed concluded, he still came to consult the oracle, because this method of guiding your life is like tbe practice of Auricular Confession, or the taking cf opium or chloral. It relievos a man of personal respousi. bility, and drugs the confidence and deadens the wilL II Mam," he said-not Madame or Aladam-tite variety of speech which we spell Ma'am, but plain short Mam—"I have come here to-day to consult you upon very petic'l&r business—very peti c'Jar indeed." Well, Mr Berry, you know that I am always ready and willing, though the spirits do some- times, I ullow COXSULTfNO tHB SPTHITS. I "They certainly do take liberties; but not, I hOW. this morning, Katie's last mistakes I am witliug to put down to skittishness, and young folks will be young, whether spirits or flesh. But not tins morning, Mam. If Kittie is in the room—' tIe looked about, and then came three s»^rP from behind the fire-place— then,I beg of her to be serious or to go. Because this is a serious matter." three raps were heard. 1 think, Mr Berry," said Lavinia, "thatyou may trust •Satie this morning." <1 Mam." He put his hat on the Moor attq tQuk off his overcoat and oomforter. I hope J. nuge,; for this is a very serious morning my lifV* <i*a' t'ie most 86nous> may say, in Gawl gracious, Mr Berry "—Lavinia was startl^q a? the haggard look in his face, which was generally comfortable and contented—" what has happened ? h Nothing. M^m, yet. But a great deal may h^pp^nf Well, ait down, Mr Berry, and tell me #11 that's ia your himd. 1 Mr Beiry looked round the room. "Hal he said, I've been very UBMsy—fve been awal^fcufo long nights thinkiug of it. Bat there's i* holy calm in this room. It sootbes my mind only to be here, 1tIam-I feel better already." The shabbiness of the furniture did not appeal to him, nor the Poverty-stricken aspect of the place; he knew all about poverty, and sbabbiness of furniture had been with him, so to speak, from childhood and the artistic side of his character, if he had any, was wholly undeveloped. This was the room-where he had conversed with the spirit? it was sanctified to him by the awe with which ev^n. the most frivolous messages struck his soul: it was to him as sacred and as holy a P ,f a? anyBaptiafc chapel to a fervent beUevei. *r Vwin business that I am come about, ftXrs j^edhsds. Maua"—he leaned forward, breath- mg hard, it *nay be ruin and the workhouse. Listen carefully. Don'c lot the spirits wake so much as ft single rap till you have heard the case right through. Do you know what my profession has been ?° r No, atf, I do not. That is a. question which I never put to any spirits." "X have my life, Mam, a oleik in the service of a great company." He paused to let his words produce their full effect. "Never mind the name of that Company. It was for- merly a big house of business, owned 4,1 a single man, who made a great fortune and died. Then his sons turned it mbo a Limited Company. I've been io that house, under the father and the sons a the Boaxd of Directors, for fifty years." Well, Mr Berry?' u 1 was always a careful man, and had no wife to spend and squander. I saved money. When I retired from the Company's service last year they gave me a small pension; and one of the Directors offered 1pqt ver^ kindly, a* X thought, a& many slures in the Company as my savings would buy. They gave fifteen per cent. on the issue price, and I get, at the price I bought them—for they've gone up per cent.; so that I thought I was doing pretty well." You certainly did very well, Mr Berry," Yes, so I thought. But yesterday I got Dews: which knocked me over. It came from an old friend ill the house. He says he has found out the truth. He says that the house—it's a ship- owning company—hrvs been shaky for years. And uow it may go any minute. On the other hand, it may keep afloat, and even weather the storm." Well, Mr Berry?'' U That is one man's statement. But another man, an older friend, who is in the confidence of the Directors, tells me that the Company never was so safe, and the shares never so high and never so certain to go higher." Well ?" Well—what am I to do ? If I believe the second man I may ba ruined it be is wrong. If I believe the first man I shall have to sell at once, and I shall have to put up with three and a half or four per cent. instead of six and a half; and if he is wrong I shall have shown that I had no con- fidence in the old house where I have made my living. Advise me, Mrs Medlock. It's life or death to me to do the right thing now. I never asked you before on anything half so serious. Life and death it is. Tell me if the company is safe. Put it fair and square to them. Oh it is life or death or tbe workhouse to me. All my savings- all—are in the Company." Mrs Medlock put the question. But she trembled and turned pale, because this, she saw, was a junc- ture beyond hor powers to control. And if she misdirected her old friend—one may be a medium and yet have affections and passions—she would consign him to a workhouse. And she could not rely upon her spirits. Therefore she awaited the result with terror. The answer began with a hailstorm of raps, apparently from all parts of the room at the same tune. Presently they all ceased except from under the table, and the message began. It is slow work receiving messages by raps, and it is greatly to be desired that the spirits would adopt tbe tape system, which is rapidly and easily read. Presently, after many futile messages, and see- ing Mrs Medlock's face growing paler and more. dejected, Mr Berry sprang to his feet. "It's too much," be said. There is ruin before me, and she tolls me nothing but tbnt she is happy and so is her grandmother. Damn her grand. mother, Mrs Medlock!" Lavinia burst into tears. l am so sorry," she said. c. Of late I seem to have lost my power. 1 am the sport of the spirits. Oh, my poor old friend, what shall I do for you ? what can I do for you? Oh and after all these years And when I ought to guide you in your difficulty Oh it's no use to go on—not a bit of use." She wrung her hands while Mr Berry sat down, and gazed at her blankly. Then an idea struck ber. Mr Berry," she said, there's a wonderful young man staying with Lady. Augusta Brade- nel." j With whom ? he asked sharply. With Lady Augusta and Mr Cyrus Brudenel. Let me ask him." No, no; not theBrudenela—not the Brude- nels." I don't want to ask them. I will not mention any names. I will only 8a.y_1 Herr Paulus, here is a case/ and I will tell him your case. Advise me on it for this gentleman'—and perhaps he will advise—' and say nothing to anybody about it, aud he will keep the secret. Oh! Mr Berry, its our only chance. Let me ask him. Let me. Oh my poor old friend, you have done so much for me let me try to do something for you. Let me ask him But bide the name," said Mr Berry. I will ask hinj this very day. J will go to him this afternoon, and unless he is in Abyssinia— sometimes he spends his afternoons in Abyssinia— he will give me an answer. I am sure be will." It's the workhouse, Mrs Medlock. Think of that! Ruiu and the workhouse unless you get a true reply." (To be continued.)*

HYDROPHOBIC AT LIVERPOOL. For more than two months past there has been what has been called a hydrophobia epidemic in and around Liverpool. It should more properly be called a hydrophobia scare." The real com- mencement of it dates from July 30th, 1887. On that date a stray mad dog appeared on the Edge- lane cricket ground, and ran towards some chil- dren who were playing there. Some men present carefully put a high fence between themselves and the animal; but the wife of the caretaker of the ground seized the dog, and, after a terrible struggle, succeeded in diverting its attention from the children. She was fearfully bitten. The dog then made its way into Edge-lane, and severely bit a little newsboy. Struck with admiration for the brave conduct of Mrs Atkinson, a subscription was raised for her, and she was sent to Paris, where she underwent the usual Pasteur treatment. She has now returned home, and, being naturally a strong-willed and sensible woman, she is in no fear of any ill-result from the bites. Six weeks after his bite the little newsboy developed symp- toms of hydrophobia, and died on September 17ch. Towards the end of August the gardener residing at Roby, near Liverpool, was bitten by a young staghouud belonging to his master, Mr Rogers, a well-known accountant in the city. The man, who was aged 26, was treated by a local medical man; but from the very first he was exceedingly nervous and. very apprehensive of the conse- quences. Five weeks later twitchings came on in the neighbourhood of the scars in the right arm, and all the symptoms of hydrophobia rapidly developed. The young man was very powerfully built, and his case is desciibed as having been a particularly painful one. Chloroform was the f If re™0dy that gave any relief, aud the poor tellow died in agony. Mr Rogers was also bitten > at the same time as his servant, but beyond taking ordinary precautions, he is not apprehensive, and has not suffered at all from the bites; but not being satisfied with the condition of the dog, he called in two veterinary surgeons, and the animal valued at j650, was destroyed. During the past seven weeks there have been three cases in Liver- pool, one at Loigh, one at Lowton Junction, and one at Sale. It should be added that early in the year there was a fatal case of hydrophobia in Liverpool. In addition to the above, the fatal cases of Lord Doneraile, and the Lancaster boy, Kirkham, both occurring after the Pasteur treat- ment had been followed, have assisted in deve loping some degree of panic in Liverpool and neighbourhood. The city has for years been noted for the large number of mongrel curs that infest the streets and parks. Naturally, much has been wntten and said locally as to the treat- ment of rabies and of hydrophobia. One curious statement has excited great interest, and deserves mention, although savouring somewhat of quackery. The Rector of Belturbet, Cavan, has written to the Daily Post, stating that a man named M'Goveru, living in the mountainous dis- trict in the west of Cavan, possesses a jealously- guarded remedy, that has been in his family tor centuries, and has never failed as a cure for hydro- phobia. The cure is stated to be a remnant of the wondrous jinedical skill possessed by the ancient Irish, and which, with the cure for cancer, has been kept. for more than 2,000 years." Since this extraordinary story has been made public, a Mr Pennington writes from Bootle to say that he has the remedy, and that he will give M'Govern's medicine to anyone who applies for it-British. Medical Journal.

Glamorgan Antiquities. (By Henry G. Butterworth.) XLII-THE CASTLES OF GOWER. The coatf of Gower westward from Swansea is noted for beautiful scenery. All around the ooast from the Mumbles to the Worm's Head a scene is presented which,instormywoatber, can searoely be surpassed in magnificence. Here the towering limestone rocks are in places rent with huge crevices, which, in some instances, have been transformed into deep caverns by the chemical action of running water in remote ages. This coast then offers a aingular contrast from the low sandbanks at Swansea and the opposite shore in the scuth-east running down to Port Talbot and Portbcaw). Along the Gower coast, so agree- able in fine summer weather, and awfully grand whea the south western equinoctial gales are raging, lashing the sea with mountains of white fQam, and the spray is thrown high up over the face of the cliffs, where the sacred birds of ocean are sheltering from its fury. Along, and approaching the coast there in the immediate neighbourhood of Swansea, are many pleasant and tasteful country residences. Amongst these I must not linger, noticing briefly, or only by name, some of the most important. Foremost comes Sketty Pirk, the seat of Sir J. A. Morris. This family trace their descent, materially, from Owaia Gwynedd, Prince of North Wales, through Cadwgan Fawr, and the Parrys, and paternally from the Morrises, of Bishop's Castle, Salop. Sir John Morris,- of tiie time of King Henry VII., was of this strain. According to Burke, Robert Morris, of Tredegar, married Margaret, the daughter and sole heiress of David Jenkins, of Machynlleth, Merionethshire her mother, Bridget, was sister of Stephen Parry, Esq., M.P., of Noyadd, Cardiganshire, aud daughter of John Parry, Esq.. lineally descended from Owain Gwysedd. Kouert Morris died A.D. 1768, and was succeeded by his Becond son, John Murris. Eaq., of Clasemont, created baronet 12th May, 1806. He married Henrietta, daughter of Sir P. Musgrave, Bart., of Eden Hal), Cumber- land, and left several daughters and one son. This son, Sir John Morris, second baronet, was born 1775, and married Lady Juliana, daughter of JohnByng, fifth Viscount Torrington; their eldest son was Sir John A. Morris. Sketty Park formerly belonged to Lord Broke, a descendant from Henry Newburgh, Earl of Warwick, the Norman conqueror of Gower. Sketty Park was enclosed with a wall by Sir John Morris, first baronet, who also built the house from the Bath and Portland freestone, the remains of the old family mansion at Clasemont. Sketty Hal], in the neighbourhood, the resldrace of T. Kees, Esq, was formerly the old seat of the Dillwyus. I mnst only mention the beautiful residences of the Vivians, Singleton aød Park Wern, and the houses at Heudrefoilan, Ffynone, Paut-y-Gwydir, GI*nrafon, Peulan, Biyomor, Brooklands, Cas Baily, Gianmor, Llwynderw, Danycoed, and Langl~n<i. amongst many others, m proceeding on my way to Oystormouth Castle. This fortress was reared, in all probability, by Henry de Newburgh, or Beaumont, Earl of War- wick, who built mauy other castles in the neigh- bourhood, soon after the NormaD conquest of South Wales, although some state the castle was raised by Richard de Grainville, one of Fitz- hamon's knight", probably his brother, and baron of all the country arouud Neath. All that is koowa of this nobleman has already been detailed. The former statement is probably correct, and Oystermouth was a work of the Earl of Warwick at the time he strengthened and consolidated his newly-gotten possessions. The rains are extensive and beautiful. The plan of the castle is polygonal, without bastions or projecting towers, except at the ereat south-west entrance," the great gateway, which is still nearly perfect. The chapel at the north- east end, which has often been described as tbe 'keep,' is of fine architecture." The great hall and many of the chief apartments are stilt recog- nisable, and several Gothic windows withmullions and elegant tracery remain. Much of this was long walled up aud concealed by plaster and the ivy, which tangled and matted, and perhaps preserved, the hidden masonry. This has been removed, and everything that oars and attention could do has been done to preserve and keep in order these interesting relics of a bygone age. This attention, in the first place, is due to the noble generosity which his Grace the Duke of Beaufort always displays in bis ancient buildings, who, acting as a good steward should do with "ecious antiquities in- herited and dependent on bin, preserves and keeps his trust, as the guardian, for future generations to admire. Would we could everywhere see his noble example followed. The thanks of all lovers of such antiquities are due largely to the fostering care and love of Colonel Francis, F.S.A., for the labour and intelligent attention he has bestowed on Oystermoutb Castle. He has by his own inherent sense of order cleared away the debris, the accumnlated rubbish of centuries, and brought many of the hidden features of these buildings to view, and has done all that can be done for their preservation. The name, Oystermouth, is popularly believed to owe its origin to the quantities of theee bivalves that are taken here, but scliolars contend that it has no such significa- tion, the word being a corruption of the Scandinavian Oatremeare." Mumbles it said to be derived from the murmuring or mum- bling of the sea, The castle stands on a gentle eminence, in an angle of the bay, aad appears boldly aad majestically, affording a delightful view of the bay aud surrounding country. The village of Oystermoutb is pleasantly situated on the shore within Mumble point. This point is a bold projection of limestone rock, which runs out some distance into the sea, with a fine light-honee at the extremity, which is essentially useful in the channel navigation. Passing ronnd Caswell Bay, we reach Pwllddu Head, tbe bone caves "(which I shall notice further on), and enter Qxwioli Bay. At the head of the pill o» creek, between Pewnaan aad Kilvrough, stands, on tha side of a wild hill, another of those old Norman fortresses which, without any great architectural pretensions, served the object both of protecting the lords' domains within and resisting foreign invasion. While we may deplore the hardships that peaceable subjects often suffered in the neighbourhood of these robber's dens, yet we cannot fail to admire the foresight that placed such fortresses, often admirably situated, on the coasts. It was not eo long ago, at the time when many of these war* built. that tiie English and Welsh coasts had suffered, as no living man now can fully realise, from the rovers, the warlike vilringw of Denmark and the North, who, descend- ing on the shores with their strong but light ships, could lay the whole country waste and desolate for miles around, and swiftiy depart with the plunder long before asaietaaco could be offered from within. So it looks as though this essentially pregnable bay was guarded here by two of these strongholds, Pennard in the east, and Oxwich Castle on the western sidik Yet we are assured that Oxwich Castle is not one of those mediaeval fortresses I have alluded to, being boilt so late as 1641 by Sir Rice Mansell, and although I have no authority far saying so* yet iteppears highly probsbie that a etiii older fortress oeeupied tbe site. Pennard CastJ. is the castle on the headland, but the name Oxwich has a Scan- dinavian flavour. Malkiu says U A tine Gothic window is nearly all that remains of Oxwich Castle," so much for entire dependence on tonrist books. Tha present ruin* are considerable, having a tower, probably "the keep," six stories bigit, pierced with irregu- larly placed arched windows far more numerous than we find in old Norman keeps. Dr Nicholas saY$ Perhap, it was built as a IMllOn)W-boQII8 or marine residence, and still aaade strong, to meet the uncertainties of tbe times," a sotqiestieu highly probable. Facing Oxwich Bay Trom the westward, and on an elevation, lies Peurice, or Pen Rhys Castle, as some say, the property of Mr Mansel Talbot, of Margam, with hia modem mansion house clue* under the "grand old ivy-covered wall* Here, perhaps, stood all old British stronghold, strengthened or rebuilt in Norman times, but it is the eminence itaelf, accordiug to tradition, that gave a name to the cattle, Rhys' Head; because on thisspot Rhys, the son oi Onradogab J ?stya, wae slain by theNorrMLas, A.U. 1089, while deieudmg his territories against the uujvwrt usurpation of the N orman freebooter. So goes the old story now for the modern. Dr Nicholas saysM Pen Rbys. the ancient Welsh name, was probably the deaignatien of the rock or eminence opott whieh the castle ia planted, and adopted by the Penrhys family who lived here before the Mansells of Margam, through marriage with the heiress, -entered into possession." The Normans, in all probability, fortified here but the castle, tbe rain of which we see. is said to have been erected by Richard Neville, Earl of Warwick, the great tugf-m*k«x feuo«o&» the q^htiMt, I* at tb* -1 most generous-hearted man of his dsy. I must;, however, be permitted to express tny own doubt* a* to so late an erection; the old ivy-clad wallsappear as though belonging to a far earlier time. I cannot believe they are two hundred years younger than the oldest part cf Caerphilly. Ar the time of this said erection, the middle of the fifteenth cRntury, "the possessors were called 4L>rds I)f Oxwich,' the lIame Peuricp. not having yet became associated with the manor." Sir Haph Mansel, Kt., iirm of Richard Mansel, by Lucy, daughter of Philip Seuriage, Lqrd ot Scurlfige Castle, near Llanddewi, in the time of King Richard II., married Isabel, daughter of Sir John Penrees, Lord of Oxwich and other laree possessions in Glamorganshire, and ttjis Sir Huerb was the great-grandfatner of Anthony Mansel, Esq., who wasafaim in the wars betweea York and Lancaster. So the property remained with the Mansels till 1750, when, heir* male failing, it passed by the distuff, in the person of Mary Mansel, to h<?r second lion by her husband. J.ilvory Talbot, of Laycook Atebey, Wiltshire. The present proprietor, is a descendant. How the old castle became dismantled, aui when it ceased to be inhabited is not probably known, neither does it appear how the property passed from the old ormau barons descendants to the Penrhys faipiiy. Dr. Nicholas laments, and so must every lover of antiouities witli bim, "that the vener- able pile is much neglected. No care is taken to preserve it fram dilapidation." be says, and, if it were not for the friendly ivy -ever partial to the old and &egleetn<$ -its disappearance would hasten apace." A wonderful plant is the ivy green it win bold up an old wall, and it will soon also make a new one old; it reverences age, and throws its protecting mantle around decayed grandeur. Charles Dickens must hrve had some snch thought when he penned his little song: — Oh, a dainty plant is the ivy green, Triat creepeth u'er ruins old Of right choice food are his meals I ween, In his ceU so lonely and cold. The wall mnst be crumbled, the stone decayed. To pleasure his dainty whim; And the mouldering dust that years have made Is a merry meal for him. Whole aeas have fled and their works decayed. And nations have scattered been; But the stout old ivy shall never fade From its hale and hearty green. The brave old plant in its louely days Shall fatten upon the past; For the stateliest building man can raise Is the ivy's food at last. Creeping OB, where time has beea, A rare old plant is the ivy green." The name Oxwich, as I observed above, has a Scandinavian sound. It is surmised tbat thos* sea-rovers, sons ot the ocean, from the northern lands, whom we know as the Danes," in the time of our English Alfred and the Welsh Rhodri the Graafc, aDd Howell IMa, left traces of their visits on the southern eoaets of Wales, and which 6Ucil *ames as terminate in their ?ffix Wick (corruption Wioi»,»')as Woodwick, Gelhswick, Watbwick, Masselwiek, and Oxwich. The affix is Vanish, %nd signifies, according to the great Camden, "the shore" nr "curving of a river," a castle and a port;" a creek or bay perhaps is nearer the mark, but not always, as in the case of Norwich. The author of Welsh place names mentions that-" Isaac Taylor is of opinion that the Vikings, or "creekera," derived their names from the Wice or creeks in which they anchored." In my next I will ask the reader to consider "Arthur's Stone."

ON CATS. A writer in Indian Notes and Queries gives some beliefs prevalent in Southern India. We repro- duce them below :— (o). Accidentally swallowing the hair of a cat is believed to produce severe pair, in the stomach. (b.) It is unlucky to bear caterwauling going on when starting on a journey. (c). It is unlucky to see a cat on opening the eyes in the moruing. {(1.) It is a heinous ain to pour water over a cat; to be expiated by the construction of a golden cat and certain ceremonies. (e.) Children are taught never to beat a cat, and are told, If you do it your bands will shake ever afterwards, so that you will be unable to do anything." (f.) It is unlucky to mention the word cat, so I that if a butler wants bis European master to understand that the oat has walked off with the milk, he will say it has been drunk up by an animal with four legs and one tail that makes a mew mew noise as it runs along. (S*.) It is however, considered auspicious to a house if a cat is delivered of tbe kittens in it-an unusual occurrence. (A.) Cat's flesh is prescribed io treatises on medicine as a specific for certain cases of asthma and consumption. But I have not heard of its being actually practised. (i.) The astrologers wiU tell a person born dur- ing pamartham, (the 7th lunar asteciem) to worship the cat and never to molest it, as an act conducive to his salvation. (i.) The skull of a black cat is a part of every sorcerer's equipment. (k,) In Malayalim the cat is called pucna and pucha-palhi, or cat-tooth, appearing iu a person over 80 years of age. Also the act in wrestling of catching a man by the loins and throwing over the head is called the cat-trick (pucha-karanum).

NEWSPAPER ENTERPRISE. Mr Kajones," said the foreman of a Southern Illinois paper, as he went into the presence of the editor the other day, we've waited a day and a half for the blank paper, and it hasn't come yet. If we don't go to press this afternoon we'll lose two stickful* of legal ads that have got to be printed before to-morrow. What are we going to do?" uHave we any blank paper at all?" inquired the editor. We have ten quires of brown wrapping paper, such as butchers use." "Then," said the editor, as tbe fire of a sudden inspiration flashed from his eyes, we'll use that." And he turned to his desk and wrote the following editorial, which he gave to the foreman, with 10- structions to double lead it and put it at the head of the first column on tbe editorial page:— Of all the papers in the United States, the Welkin Ringer is the only one that has the en- terprise to print a correct portrait of Queen Kapiolani, of the Saudwich Islands. The out- lines of this portrait have been engraved with great care, and the cut is guaranteed to be an accurate copy of the latest photograph of her Majesty while in order to show her complexion as it reallyid, we have gone to the expense of printing oar eutire edition on paper whose colour and quality exactly reproduce the complexion and texture of the skin of this now famous Queen. Extra copies of this week's issue, wrapped ready tor mailing, can be hod at five cents eaoh by implying at this oflige,*cwWi»ca^o Tribunt,

OWEN GLENDOWER: OR QWALIA'S LAST STRUGGLE. 'l (" Ml BY H. J. FORREST, A^T^OR OF CC OROM- WELL IN WALES,! "TUDOR AND PLANTAGI^ET," &o. -:t- CHAPTER XXXVIIL-^THE BATTLE OR LMUjprliijf, Strike now! orelae the irpn Jools.SHAKSPERE. WAR was now the only Way ojjt of the difficulties in which Henry IV. foundjhiijnself. The stubborn resistance of Glendower, âÓd "is refusal to accept anything less than independents, exasperated him, and caused him to place every, man be could spare from England at the serviQe of the Duke of Ireland and Prince Henry, Glendower, on his part, had marched northward at the bead of a small army, with the view qf carrying tbe war into Shropshire but when be arrived in Mont- gomeryshire, he found the English there ready to do battle. The Welsh attacked at once, and the suddenness of the shock threw the English into confusion for a moment, but prince Henry rode forward and prevented further disaster by his presence and example. The Duke of Ireland was posted at a place called Llanfyllin with several pieces of cannon, but tbe mountainous nature of the ground and the dense woods pre- vented his using them. Although the English forces were more than two to one, numbers were of little avail, as the whole country round about was one vasS agglomeration of forest trees and underwood. Arrows and crossbows were of little service, and at last it became almost a hand-to- hand fight. Generalship was out of the question, for cavalry and artillery (which was just then beginning to be used in war) were useless. Neither Prince Henry nor Glendower could judge as to I how the battle was going, and hard blows alone were of any service. The battle raged aU day, and when darkness closed upon tha scene, Glendower found himself with about 30Q men near a waterfall called Pistyll Rhaiadr. He inquired for his trusty friends, bat none were to be found. He then sat down by the waterfall, and calling the soldiers around him, be addressed a few words to them. .°^'er8' Ba"* in a stentorian voice, irf ky e^itemeat, "you have fought we o- ay, ut I do not know if the victory be tint- °r WK enemy. Anyway, we have s muc ground, for tbia grand cascade was p° ,w rnm U3 Wf^8D We "commenced the fight. ° a °Ur enc*s from the neighbouring woods during the night, and guard tbe small batch of prisoners we have captured. In the morning we shall be better able to judge bow matters stand, and can act accordingly." When the morning Caiae> G>]en(jower Bent his men to scour the woods in search of the wounded, and to bring ill prisoners. Hundreds of his soldiers kept passing iu from the surrounding woods, and one by one many of his trusty officers appeared on the scene. The fight had been very savera, for in many watercourses the bodies of the fallen blocked up the way. The English forces appeared to have been drawn off during the night, and had fallen back in the direction of Welshpool. Glendower, on his part, bade his troops make for Carnarvon Castle, where he had stored a vast amount of protons ready for emergencies. Hundreds of the wounded lay on the ground uncared for by either side, in consequence of instructions received from the commanders, and the dead bodies of English and Welsh became food for the crow and the wolf Such was the result of the unfortunate battle of Llanfyllin, in 5 which neither side gained any advantage, and tbe amount of misery caused by the action can never be estimated When Henry IV. heard of the result, he flew into a towering rage, and despatched De Vere ac 0 r an where matters were again assuming a threatening aspect. He then gave Prince Henry chief command, and sent him rein- forcemeats. When Glendower had rested awhile at Carnar- von Castle, be again took the field, determined to seek out Prince Henry, and crush him before his reinforcements came up. He summoned rtir IVoc Chirk( Arthur de Bohun, and several other of bis most faithful followers, and called upon them to make one more sfcaiid for the independence of Wales. I feel the end approaching," he said when tbis frame of mine must be shortly rendered up to its Maker. He has promoted meia a hundred battles* and m a thousand ^her hair-breadth escapes from peril. Yet my destiny tells me that the end a near. I am getting old, and a few years more wiH-wrtaesa the deafch-of- Owen Glen- dower, probably the last prince of Wales. Bolingbroke is weary of this war, and the English people are not well affected towards it. All the prisoners who have come in tell mEt that England is a hotbed of rebellion, and that the days of Henry the Usurper the murderer of Richard II., are numbered. My faithful Celts are still ready to give their best energies to free this little corner of the island from the invader. oh if we were more united, I feel that Wales could be free to- morrow I beseech you. each and all to pray unceasingly to the AlmIghty for that eveufc to take place." He embraced Arthur de Bohun when be had finished, but did not perceive that Hoel stood by his aide. Let this brave young man," said he, be your leader, if I die; for I know that he will be faith- tul to you. He bears a Norman name; but what of that ? There are thousands of your fellow- countrymen bearing honoured Celtic names who are mere poltroons in spirit, and would not strike a blow for their country Arthur has been tried in a hundred battles, and has always been faithful to the Welsh cause. Hoel stood 1 y his father, and tears were in his sightless eyes when he heard his father eulogizing the character of Arthur, and entirely ignore tbe existence of himself. Arthur de Bohun, perceiving this exclaimed. Most noble Prince I •.nuot^t^TSS when I perceive one by your fiide vho hag already suffered more than I have for the Welsh cause- your son Hoel, who has far higher claims to com- mand this army when Glendower has gone than myself." Glendower tenderly embraced his son, and said, CI Poor Hoel has lost his precious sight by the cruelty of Bolingbroke. I should feel proud to yield up the command to him when I die, but a blind leader would be fatal to our caute." CI I would lend him my eyee," said the generous Arthur. "TUeo let it be so," said Glendower, and he led the way to the Eagle Tower to confer with them upon the approaching action. CHAPTER XXXIX.—DEATH or HKSST IV. Kings and mightiest potentates must die. THE results of the battle of Llanfyllin were not calculated to assist Henry IV., who was lying sick at Westminster, in recovering his former state of health and activity. His frame, which at one time seemed capable of undergoing any amount of fatigue, was now prostrate, although a man yet in the prime of life. Sickness bad brought with it time for ruction, and reflection had brought with it remorse, and a desire to undo much of the evil of his unscrupulous career. How- ever, he still urged bis son Henry to pursue the Welsh with unabated vigour, and never to relax until the principality was entirely subjugated. He sent for Cardinal Beaufort and Archbishop Arundel, and took counsel with them as to the best course to pursue. "I am sick," said Henry, taking the hand of his brother, the cardinal, and cannot take the field. The stubborn Welsh still hold out, and events are against me. What am I to do ? Tbe cardinal looked at his brother, and replied, "Send reinforcements, and tell the army that you are coming with further supplies of men, and thus strike terror intc the people." And what saith my Lord Archbishop ?" I echo the words of my brother tbe cardinal," said Arundel. If my presence in Wales can be of any service, I am ready to,la{O there, my liege." "God forbid," exclaimed the cardinal, "that anything should happen to you at this moment, when the kingdom seems torn from one end to another by dissensions." Amen ejaculated Arundel to the words of the cardinal. "Wili you promise," said the king feebly, "to give your counsel aud advicd to my erratic eon should it please the Almighty to take me hence." "We do," exclaimed Arondel. "I can answer 'or my brother Beaufort's conduct in the matter." I feel the end approaching; kneel, therefore, ød pray for my soul. Oil! I have led a way- ward and wicked life, and f fear there is little rest for nay soul hereafter. I charge you to en- large the abbey of Westminster, and to build one at Bolingbroke in my name. In that chest you will find the means wherewith to endow several religious houses, and also to reward you for your Srayers and intercessions. I fear that Prince [enry will soon rnu riot^and wreck this noble kingdom, which I transmit to him not without some alloy, but yet a goodly heritage withal. Would he were here J" Tbe two men of the Church knelt one at each Bide of the bed, and the king closed his eyes. He muttered the word Pomfret," and was silent. Prince Henry now entered the room, and walked up to his father's bedside. He had ridden from Welshpool in hot haste, as he had heard of his father's illness. The king opened b» eyee when be heard hia son s voice, but a slight film suffused them, and lie endeavoured in vain to articulate a word. He extended his hand, clutched at the bedolofehes, and all was over The Lord's will be done!" exclaimed Arundel, and Prince Henry fall upon tbe bed and wept, bitterly. Cardinal Beaufort tried to cheer his old. pupil, but for a time his efforts proved fruitless. At last he arose and went to the window. This kingdom is a great charge for a young man," said he to his uncle, "but with God's help I may be able to rule it. I count on your aid and support, uncle. You have ever been my guide," "That I have already promisad your father," said the cardinal, .e and our good brother here also." Henry V, looked at Archbishop Arundel, and was silent. The Archbishop extended his hand, but Henry refused to accept it. Old man," said he, U my first exercise of power will be to tell yon that unless you change your policy entirely you cannot count on the favour of your king. Promise me to amend, or go and shut yourself up in the towers of Lambeth," u 1 have served your father faithfully, sire," said the Archbishop, "and this is my reward. What part of my conduct do you disapprove of?" What part ?" exclaimed Henry. No part, but the entire course, from the evil moment when my poor father consented to place you at the head of the hierarchy of England. You talk of your faithful services, but know that it is the duty of the church to check tbe vices of men, be tbey kings or subjects. It is no part of the church's vocation to pander to cruelty, and that you have done. It is no part of the chufch's mission to persecute the weak, and that you have done. Y Oll have become the mere tool and plaything of my poor dead father there, who required no priest to urge bim on to evil courses. Let us commence our reign by trying what good government will do, and you will please to proceed at once to Lambeth, and open wide the gates of the Lollard's Tower. The author of 'De Haretico Comburendo' will understand that no more persecution for con- science sake will be tolerated." You are a Wyckliffite, then, sire," said the Archbishop. So was John of Gaunt," said the King. "I cannot do what you tell me," said the Arch- bishop. "Old man exclaimed Henry V., "you are in rebellion already. If you do not obey me within twenty-four hours, I will coipe when my poor dead father is buried, and burn the palace over your ears! Away The Archbishop immediately withdrew, and left Henry V. and bis uncle to coufer together as to the future government of the kingdom. CHAPTER XL.—GLBNDOWKR AND HENRY V. Mirth cannot move a sonl in agony.—SHAKSPERE. THE death of Henry IV. completely changed the aspect of affairs in England. Many of the favour- ites of Bolingbroke were discarded, and Henry V., on his part, soon exhibited that power to rule which only appeared at transient intervals during his father's reign. He possessed more of the characteristics of bis great ancestor, John of Gaunt—generosity, bravery, and clemency. The death of Bolingbroke was looked forward to by many as the inauguration of a brighter era. Henry V., in his wild, thoughtless way, had be- come personally acquainted with many of the disaffected, and he knew their hauuts and strata- gems. He made tham all acquainted with the fact that an opportunity now offered to become good citizens, and that if they aroused bis anger by opposition, bis hand would fall heavily upon them. This had the effect in most instances of transferring rebels into good citizens. In a few months he found his English subjects tranquil, and he then began to cast about him for means to allay the turbulent state of affairs on the western border. After the bloody battle of Llanfyllin the heart of Glendower and the Welsh people began again to give way, as many of his best officers had fallen in that fight. Henry V. therefore thought that if he could once more obtain an interview with Glendower, he might come to terms with him, and thus afford him an opportunity to turn his arms in the direction of France. He therefore joined bis forces at Welshpool, and sent word to Glendower, who was still at Car- narvon Castle, that he had a proposition to make to him. They agreed to meet at Bettws-y-Coed, a wild and lovely glen in Carnarvonshire, and to have no other persons present but themselves. Henry V. approached Glendower in a mild and tolerant manner, well knowing that one false step might imperil the whole fabric which be had built up. Most noble prince!" exclaimed be, offering his extended band to Glendower, if you will not grasp the hand of the King of England, will you meet with cordiality a son of Wales like your- self 1" "You do not love Wales like one of her sons, replied Glendower, "or the first act of your reign would have been to have granted her bar freedom. I grasp your hand with warmth, but know tbat Wales is still unbroken in spirit. "GJendower l' exclaimed the young King, "I love Wales too well, or I should not be here par- leying with you.' You say Wales is still uu- broken in spirit, but you are aware, no one better, that many of your officers have given in their allegiance to me. I know that you cannot com- mand one thousand men at tbe present moment in all the Principality. But L come not here to rejoice over you, but to point out to you the futility of further opposition. Your loyalty secured, I should look to you as one of my most trusty lieutenants in my projeoted, campaign in France." I seek not to subjugate others," replied Glen- dower, "but to achieve, my people's indepen- dence. The French have been our friends; I could not return their friendship with ingrati- tude." Well," said Henry, laughing, "I am not going to be cooped up here in this foggy isle while smiling lands are within a day's sail from cur shores. You take a pride in being a branch of that Kimnierian stock which came from Gaul into Britain. The Romans drove you into Wales, but you will still tind in Bretagne Bome of your ancient race. Let us join them, and claim all Gaul again for our portion. Glendower smiled, and replied, "I fear your ambition will lead you, like many other com- manders, into a sea of troubles. My ambition, on the contrary, is bounded by this little Princi- pality. Bretagne has 110 charms for me, nor do I wish to claim all the lands through which the sons of Gomer have passed." Really you are very moderate in your desires," said the King, and if I did not love Wales so well I should be glad to have you for a neich- bour." Your love for Wales exhibits itself in a curious form, as I said before," replied Glendower; "you wish to keep your foot upon her neck, meanwhile you make protestations of love and affection for her." My apparent unkindness is easily explained, most obdurate prince," said the King I wish to make Great Britain stronger, and able to with. stand her enemies, come from what quarter of the globe they may. Wales was once divided into North and South, and was governed by separate princes. Ireland is divided into four provinces, aud in days gone by, her intestine quarrels made her fall an easy prey to foreign cupidity Eng- land was onse governed by seven princes, and the same fate awaited them all as awaits all weak states. Englan, Scotland, and Wales ought to be welded into one great power, and I will do my best to achieve that state of things. Ireland is already mine, and France will follow at no dis- tant day. Then you will see a Celtic empire worthy of the name." "In which the Scythians rule and occupy the best places," remarked Glendower. Tbe Teutons, sir, and none better fitted in the world. I cannot consent to conquer countries in order to give them up to the Celts. My good nature does not extend quite so far as that." Well," said Glondower, we will not quarrel about race, but about independence. Are you prepared to grant us that ? UNo." said the King. "I am prepared to govern you with mildness and justice; but I am not prepared to weaken my authority by lopping off such a fair limb as tbe mountains and valleys of Gwalia. Ireland would quickly follow, and Euglaud would then be at the mercy of her enemies." "Then," said Glendower, "I must bid you farewell. I had high hopes of you, most noble prince, but tbey are all destroyed. Farewell!" and he extended his hand to the King. Henry V., on his part, graped bis hand, and then fell on the neck of the old Welsh chieftain. Most honoured Celt!" exclaimed he, I am un- manned and ashamed. Yet why should I be so? I admire you even in your stubbornness. I once hoped to call you father-in-law, but that hope was frustrated. I am King of England, and cannot parcel out my power to anyone. I would rather die on this spot than consent to such au unworthy course. We must remain enemies, but while Henry V. of England lives he will never seek the life of the great Owen Glendower, the last of the Welsh princes." Glendower felt touched at the young king's words, and could hardly speak for emotion. At last be said, "Although I cannot call you my kiner, I recognise you as the King of England. I recogmse your good motives, and feel heart- broken to think that we must still be enemies. I am an old man, and have battled for my country for years in spite of adverse fortune. If I had consented to be a satrap of your father, I might almost have ruled this beloved Wales of mine, as you know. But the descendants of a race which was reckoned old in the days of Homer cannot bow the neck to a mixture ef Normans, Danes, and Saxons." "Know, most noble Celt, that the Saxons occu- pied the Elbe in the days of the Ptolemiea, two hundred years before the Christian era therefore we are worthy on the ground of antiquity to mix with the proud Kimmerians. But I look upon all that as mere childish fanfaronade. Let us do Bometbiug worthy of our race, and not claim merit for events which occurred centnriea before we were born." "You are right," exclaimed Glendower, "and that is why I want to keep this little corner of our island independent." I will not tempt you further. Farewell!" said the King, and he leapt on his horse, and was quiekly lost to view amongst the trees. I (To be coiitinued.)

A SEcoND THOUGHT. — A well-known New York homoeopathic physician says that be was once rung up in the middle of the night and requested by a man to call immediately upon his wife. Very well," aaid the doctor. "How much will it cost?" asked the caller. Ten dollars—to go that dis- tance." How much will it be if you call in the morning t" "TwodoUara," "Well, eall in tbe morning," said the husband. Rabbi (to a student): "Never get excit.ed- neither wildly rejoioe in a momentary elation, nor beoome downcast by a momentary terror. Keen a clear head and you will be spared mttoh bitter- ness in life." (At this instant a great dog comes up, barking furiously, and leaps upon thilrabbi. who turns pale and jumps back, trembling.)— Student: "Now, master, why are yott so alarmed? Don't you know that a barking dog never bites ?"—Rabbi: I know it, ewtaiohr# but do I know that the dog ligpws it 2" V, J

[ALL BIGHTS RK&ZKTOD.1 THELAWSCTF HEALTH. By a Member of the Collegs of Surgeons. ;,I,: V.—THE FEEDING o It, CHILDREN. "• I had intended to treat this stibjeet in lwrt week's article, but I found that space wonld not permit, so I have thought it well to devofc a separate article to the subjeot of food for children. It is sufficiently important to merit consideration, for in this country and in this nineteenth century of edqeation and civilisation youthful lives Are falling around us day by day in very considerable numbers-lives which, by a little timely lm?m- ledge and forethought, could be saved. MOTHKB8 WHO DO NOT KNOW HOW TO PJUR> CHILDREN, I can imagine some hardworking metMB, ex- claiming, "Just as though we do not know bow to feed our babies!" Well, a large proportion of the mothers of our community do not know how to feed their children. They feed them until they kill tbem. This fact is sometimes vividly pre- sented to U8 doctors. Two or three months ago I was attending as a witness at a coroner's oourt. There were five inquests to be held, aU on the bodies of children, and three of tbeso five bad died from improper feeding and other preventable causes. One mother confessed tbat three of her children bad died duriag the previous fortnight, and it was elicited that with care these Children would not have died; also that the children were insured for £11. By-tbe-bye, this question of insuring the lives of children immediately after they come into existence is a subject which would bear handling by some of our legislators. I some- times wonder whether the bulk of the population will ever be sufficiently educated to tend and rear their children properly. At present board schools have not produced the desired change, and the ignorance is not entirely confined to the poorer classes. A delight appears to be taken by some people in commencing to feed their babiea improperly immediately they aie born. A mixture of butter and sugar is often given them, and tbey are quite unable to digest it. A woman brought a caild,two days old, to the out- patient department of a large hospital, aonee three or four weeks ago, and stated that she thought the child had something the matter with H, because it had been crying incessantly. She was a^ked what it was fed on, and the answer was, "Oh, bread and butter and gruel!" A UROPUN ROTTWO, The feeling which will prevail in Hygeiopolis, the imaginative city of perfect health, concerning the death of a child from the ignorance and care- lessness of its attendante will be one of ehame- Shame that must be hidden in darkness—of darkness, as a crime against knowledge, and love, and country, and time, the shame that life ill ita earliest dawn should be let go, and run no Olympian game, and sing no swag, and tell no history, and plant no work oi art, and hold no standard, and fulfil no task of duty." The evi- dence of this wrong-doing with regard to the feeding of infants is apparent not only in the rate of mortality, but can be seen by every one amid our daily surroundings. The doctor sees it vary often, inasmuok as he is called on to treat many chi ldren who are suffering from the results of this carelessness, but have you not frequently, M you have walked along the streeta, seen children with deformed limbs, suffering from knock-knee," bow-legs," and other species of dtoformity ? These troubles are, to a considerable extent, the rosults of the improper food the children were fed with when very young. THE BIQRT SORT OF POOD. The proper food for children up to six month's old is the mother's milk. It would be well if every child that is born could be fed for this period on nothing else. The breast milk is the natural food provided, and if the motbe); and child be both healthy, nothing else is necessary. Milk eontaioe every essential of perfect food it contains albumen in the form of casein; there ia a considerable quantity of sugar, and there is a sufficiency of fat, together with saline matter and water. The beat practice is to put the baby to the breast soon after it is born. THE TOST LTSSONS A atABT LXASV9. A baby comes into tSe VWrWa simple, helpless mass of humanity without knowledge of any kind. The first lessooJt Jaajruaja AowJiOohreathe, and the next, how to obtain its food. The sooner it is taught to suck, then, the better it is both tor the mother and the child. Sometimes, however, for various reasons, suoh as the condition of health of the mother, the child has to be fed artificially, and a consideration of how it can best be fed artifi- cially is important. Of course, a wet nurse is the best substitute, but this comes only within the reach of the rich, and,it would, perhaps, be well if some of these rich people who have their children brought up by a wet nurse did not do so unless they were absolutely compelled. The next best substitute for the mother's milk is ass's milk, but it can only be obtained with great difficulty. Goat's milk may be used. but it has the very strong and disagreeable odour peculiar to the animal, and this renders the milk objectionable. ARTIFICIAL FKXDIN4, We then come to cow's milk, and this is plentiful and cheap. It must not be given to the children in its pure state, for it differs in some important particulars from the mother's milk. It has a higher specific gravity, contains more eream and less sugar. The specific gravity can be reduced by dilution with water, and the lack of sugar can be made up by adding a quantity of ordinary white sugar. Even now the milk differs from human milk in being richer in casein and cream, and it is therefore indigestible. We must bear this in mind, for a child's stomach at this age is a tender apparatus, and easily gets out of working order. When milk is put into the stomach it forms hard clots. These clots have to be acted upon by the gastric juice, and broken up, before they can be digested. It is a healthy rule to bear in mind that though food be placed in the stomach, it is still outside the system. THE DIGESTIVE ORGANS. Food must first be digested aud taken up by the blood-vessels and lacteals of the stomach and intestines before it becomes a source of nourishment to the body, while the presence of hard milk clots irritating a baby's tender stomach may be productive of a great deal of trouble. This clotting may be prevented by add- ing a quantity of lime-water to the milk. A tea- spoonful or two are of no use—about one-third should be used. For a very young infant artificial tood may be prepared thus Add a tablespoonful of plain water to two tablespoonfuls of milk then two tablespoonfuls of lime-water and a tea- spoonful of white sugar. This may be put into a bottle and heated to a temperature of 95 degrees Fahrenheit by steeping the bottle in hot water for a little time, and the food becomes ready for use. The quantity of milk is increased as the child gets older. Barley water or gelatine may be used instead of lime water, and it will answer the same purpose. The barley water can easily be prepared by putting two teaspoonfuls of pearl barley into a pint of cold water in a saucepan, boiling down to two-thirds and straining. From half to one-tbird of barley water should be used with the milk. One objec- tion to feeding children with the bottle is the difficulty in keeping the bottles clean. Two bottles should be in use, and the one can be kept in water with a little soda in it while the other is in use. A child up to six weeks old should be fed about every two hours during the day, and at night it rs better for it to sleep in a cot so that the mother may not have her rest disturbed. THE GBOWING CHILD, After six weeks old, the infant should be fed every three hours. Condensed milk is largely used. It muet be well diluted, and is better that it should not be used exclusively 07 the ehiid will tend to develope a disease kao^?. as "rickets." Until the baby is six months it is better that milk should constitute its sole diet, and that no etarcby food of any kind be given. Sometimes with delicate ohtldren it is difficult to find out the food which 1611 agree with them. A teaapoonful of Melton's Food for Infants is very MetuI; it ehould ba ad4wd t0 the milk and water put in the bottle fop tha child. There are other kinds of food, by different makers, whioh will be fonad iNgfttl if given as directed. WAY BABIES CRT. Another danger to be guarded sgaittt Ve.ter- feeding. If a child begins to vomit it« ynflfr in clotted lumps, it ia either suffering from WflrjgM tion or is being fed toorapidly. ItisageeeftmiehUre to imagine that a child is hungry because It criea. If it has not had any food tor some time, then the cry is owing to hunger. It will eagerly take the food given it, and thee probably drop off to sleep, but another cry, which is a cry of an en- tirely different charaotev, will proceed from paia. from over or improper feeding the baby has got indigestion, which causes it acute pain, and if IDoIe food be given that will only inoreaee the pain. After the child is aix flNaths old other food any be given. It* salivary glands and pancreas are developed, and it will be able to digest starchy foods. The form in which this food is given is important. "EQtire wbeaten mur" may be used. A pound of the flour is tied up very tightly in a pudding cloth, placed in a saucepan, and boiled for ten hours when the flour is cold the outer soft covering is cut away, aud the flour from the interior is grated up and preparer1 for use by rubbing up a teaspoonful of the prepared flour with a tabie-spounful of colu milk. Then add some more milk until it has the consistency of cream, and pour a quarter of a pint of hot milk upon this mixture and briBkly stir it up. A child six to eight months old will take two meals a day of this mixture. After the eighth month a little thin mutton or chicken broth or veal tea may be given, free from ail grease. After 12 months the child may beerin to take potatoes, mashed with gravy, light puddings, or the yolk of an egg. No meat should be given until the child is 16 months old. THE PROCESS OF WEANING, The period cf weaning is often troublesome. As a general rule it may be said that a child should be weaned at 12 months old. If the supply of inilk be poor or scanty the infant may be weaned before this time, since it is no use putting into a child's stomach milk which does not nourish it. The mother's health may also demand that the child be weaned. When weaning a child do it gradually, reduciug the number of times the child has the breast until it reaches once a day, and then, after a few days, it may be discontinued altogether, the child being encouraged to take other food.

COOKING tttS GOOSE. Jones: "Hello, Brown, old boy 1 what's tht matter with you this rooming! You doa't loek well." Brown: Cook has been off on strike for the last week and my motber-&*la*r baa baaa doiM tbaf*$i&