The Cardiff Times

A thing that grows upon you: A wen. Our own happiness greatly depends upon oar MiiMVuww to pe«>mote the happiness of otbera. 4

[ALL BIGHTS BSSEBVJBD.] A LATE REMORSE. BY T. H. GEE. Conscience, anticipating time. Already rues the enacted crime, And calls her Furies forth, to shake The sounding scourge and hissing snake ) While her poor victim's outward throes Bear witness to his mental woes, And show what lesson may be read Beside a. sinuer's restless bed.—ROKEBY. It was late oue Saturday evening in December when I received a letter, which I found to be from Frank Watson. It begged me to get down to Cambridge at once, in my double capacity of friend and lawyer. The letter concluded thus :— Do not delay your journey. My urgency will be explained by the change you will perceive in your unhappy friend, Frank Watson." I had known Frank Watson in youth and in early manhood. We had been intimate, without having been altogether friends; perhaps the attraction which bis society possessed for me arose rather from his excellent conversational powers than from any genuine sympathy. For many years I had seen comparatively very little of Watson. His occasional letters came more and more seldom, and for the past two years had ceased. The author of "Rasselas would deduce a valuable moral from this fact; but it is frequent and not to be wondered at. How few are our friends—how fewer still our life- long friends t I knew that Watson had married; that be had suffered from the malady which appalled President Lincoln—chronic impecuniosity that his father in-law had died, and had left a large fortune to his wife that she had died, and left him a rich widower; that he had married a sesond time, and that be was now the father of three children. From the tenor of his letter I gathered that Watson had been suddenly seized with some dangerous illness, and was desirous of settling his worldly affairs. Accordingly, early next morning I set off to Cambridge, and soon found myself at Frank Watson's house in Tiumpington-street. I anticipated a change, but certainly not such as was presented in the person of this poor, broken down man. Watson could not have been forty but he would have passed for sixty, or more than that, baing white as to his hair, and thin-visaged and cadaverous. His expression, too, was changed; there was an uneasy restlessness in his glassy eyes, and he was manifestly under the influence of extreme nervousness. There was a canker gnaw, tag at his vitals. Mind and body were con- suming. He received me with a. somewhat forced cordiality, thanked me for my ready compliance with his wish, and at once told me that he required my professional servipeij in the disposalof bis property. But I had no difficulty in perceiving from a certain reserve, hesitancy, and even dis- tractedness of manner that something beyond the mere making of a will had brought me to Cam- bridge. I made no observation on the immense change in his appearance, but expressed a hope that his desire for legal assistance did not arise from apprehension about his health. To this be only replied that his health, though indifferent enough, was not worse than usual, but that it was always well to be prepared-a. truism in which I acquiesced. Come, Thornton, let us to business," he added; and to business we went. I need hardly say that I was prepared for instructions to divide the father's fortune according to some rule of division or of mors caprice among his children, and to secure a life-rent interest to his wife. Great was my surprise when Watson, after enumerating a few small legacies, named, as the sole successors of his vast fortune, two persons utterly unknown to me, and of whose connection with the testator I was entirely ignorant. I laid down my pen, and looked np. It Mr Watson," said I, hesitatingly, "you bave a wife and children." I have children," said be, but Heaven pre- serve them from the curse of wealth that does not belong to them." Really Watson," I continued, you are un- duly scrupulous. I am aware that this large fortune has come to you through your first wife, but it was hers to give. She became sole heiress of her father when his three sons by a former marriage were unfortunately ilrowned in the Hush, Thornton," he cried hastily, and a convulsive shudder shook his whole frame. Watson," said I, we weee once companions —I might say friends. As a friend as well as a lawyer you have sent for jnp. There is some mystery here, of which I beliewe-it was your design to disburden yourself. Your secret, whatever it be, is safe in my keeping. But Ifnus tell you plainly that if you are resolved to make beggars of your innocent children without giving adequate reasons for doiug so, some other than your old friend Thornton must be the instrument for doing it." Thornton," said he, in a voice of sepulchral solemnity, and without raising his eyes, there is a mystery- It—shall be told you this night. That done, neither you nor any man breathing will be my friend, but I shall no longer require friends." These words came slowly from him, who seemed writhing in inward agony. I could hardly conceal my horror. "Reach me some wine," he continued, "and pour it out for me. My nerves are shattered. Another glass—yet another—Thornton." After another awful pause, the wretched Wat- son, somewhat revived by copious draughts of wine, spoke as follows:— "It is now upwards of ten years, Thornton, since I married my first wife, the daughter of old Belleuden, the lawyer. She was the child of a former marriage, and the large fortune of my father-in-law, which in the end came—no matter how-to me, belonged to him, or rather to his three sons, in right of his second wife, who was also dead at the time of my marriage. "I could not have indulged any expectation that this fortune would ever descend to me; for, although I knew perfectly that, failing my wife's three half-brothers, it came' entirely into her father's power, yet there could be no ground for any reasonable expectation that three healthy boys would die off and make way for my wife Agnes. Mark me, Thornton, I did not marry for money, and the thought of the succession never then entered my mind. j "I will tell you, Thornton* when first the dangerous hope dawned upon me. There was an epidemic in this part of the country, and my three sons were simultaneously seized with it. All the three were in the greatest danger; and one evening when the disease was at its height, and when my wife seemed extremely distressed at receiving a Hiesfcage that it was doubtful if any of the three would survive till morning, • And if they should die,' said I within myself. This supposition constantly recurred, and was so willingly harboured that I lay awake the whole of the night, planning to myself the disposal of tbe large inheritance, forgetting at the moment that another life, that of my father-in-law, stood betweeu us and the succession. Next morning a favourable change took place, and ultimately the three youths recovered. But I felt a certain evil disappointment, and I continued to brood over the fortune that once seemed not distant from my hands. But I was no murderer—no murderer then "You know something of the river here at Cambridge, and of the passion for boating. The three boys often indulged in this exercise, and I sometimes accompanied them. One day, near tbe end of August, we bad spent, the day at Eel. pits," and it was not far from sunset when we began to row back to Cambridge. Scon it began to rain heavily in the scramble for cloaks and umbrellas which the suddenness of the shower occasioned the boat was nearly upset. Something seemed audibly to whisper, If it bad upset 1"- and while tbe boys were laughing and jesting I sat silent in the stern, gloomily meditating. Still, it was only a fancy. I knew no one save myself could swim but anything premeditated was yet far from my thoughts. Well, we continued to row; and it soon fell dusk, and then the moon arose, and we continued to ascend the river—ours the only boat on it— till we were within two miles of Cambridge. Sud- denly something dark was seen floating towards us, and was seen at once by us all; at last it came within oat's length. At once the three boys made a spring to tho side of the boat, extending arms and oars to intercept it; in an instant the boat was keel uppermost, and as you read in the papers, the three boys were Here Watson suddenly stopped, and seized the decanter, filling bis glass. "Drowned in the Cam," said I. "Yes, I knew of this accident, but I did not know that you were present." "Now for my confession—how my heart trembles! The two youngest boys I never saw. I suppose they sank beneath the boat, and floated down beneath the surface. But the eldest: he rose close to me. We were not twenty yards from the bank I could bave saved him. Swift as lightning the thought of the money entered my mind. I did not turn to help him. I made for the bank-reacbed it—turned again, a better thought arising. But it was too late. I saw the ripple on the water, and the boat floating away nothing else. Virtually, I am bis murderer!" Imagining bis communication bad ended, after a prolonged pause I ventured to suggest that, though it waa only just that tha inheritance should revert to the heirs of those who had been deprived of it—supposing them to have been deprived of it by bis act—it was nevertheless proper to consider the thing coolly; that, after all, he might havo unduly connected the fancies preceding the event with the event itself; that want of presence of mind might have been mistaken for something more criminal. No, no. Thornton," be rejoined," it was no imagination believe it to be as I have told you. But any doubt will be removed by what, alas I you have yet to hear. "The fortune became my and my wife Agnes became a wealthy heiress. But my circumstances did not mend. Brighter pros- pects led to increasod expanses embarrassments accumulated. Of these you know something you vainly tried, as you remember, to extricate me from the meshes. Once, and once only, did I venture, in my short straits, to ask my father-in- law tor some advance hut the hard answer was, 4 Not a shilling, Frank, till I die. Be patient- it will all go to Agnes.' I feel that Ijmight confess anything after what I have related. The words, Not a shilling till I die,' rang constantly in my ears. Nay, my crime seemed the blacker since no advantage had fol- lowed. I began to cherish a longing for the fulfilment of my father-in-law's harsh saying. It haunted me day andnight. "You recollect very well, Thornton, my appli- cation to you some six years ago. You recol- lect its urgency, and the partial success which ensued—success sufficient, however, to keep me from the igaominy of a debtors' gaol. You might well, as you did strongly at the time, express your great surprise that my wife's father should permit such a state of things. But he, in fact, would permit anything, save parting with bis beloved money. He was a raiser. The love of riches, as the old saw in our Eton grammar informs us, grows by accumulating; and I believe he would have suffered me to perish in jail rather than draw upon his ample coffers. "It was just at this time, or perhaps a week or two later, that Mr Bellenden, my father-in-law, was attacked by a malady to which he had tor long been liable—one requiring immediate medical aid, but from which, on various previous occasions, he had perfectly recovered. Agnes was exceedingly attentive to her old father, and on Christmas evening, as we were both on our way to the sick room, we encountered the family doctor leaving the bouse. You are perhaps going to spend some time | with my patient," said Mr Hampton. My husband,' said Agnes, • means to spend an hour or two with my father. I have a particu- lar engagement at present, and am only going to see bow he is getting on.' I have some slight fear of another attack ap- proaching,' said Mr Hampton; do not be alarmed, my dear madam; you know how to treat these things—promptness is the one great requisite. It will be necessary, my dear sir '— addressing himself to me—'to lose no time in sending for me should Mr Bellenden experience another attack; all depends upon the immediate and free use of the lancet. There is no occasion for alarm. The good old gentleman may live to eat twenty Christmas dinners yet.' The doctor passed on. We entered the house, and ascended to the room whore the sick man lay. My wife remained for a few minutes only she had some particular engagements at home. As she left the room she charged me to lose not an instant in summoning Mr Hampton should there be the slightest call for his aid. "She closed the door, and I seated myself in a large chair near the bed. Mine was a strange situation. I who for many years had fixed my hopes on a great in- heritance—who, by my own most guilty omission of aid, had removed a formidable obstacle—was now watching the sick-bed of the only person who stood between me and the coveted prize. 4 Not a shilling till I die' lang in my ears ominously. Oue powerful temptation I at once resisted. On the table near me were several phials—one labelled 'Laudanum.' Whie I held it in my hand the voice of the demon was whispering ready suggestions. Suddenly the old man asked for drink. Shall I? But no This ouce only did I repel the foul and tearful insinuation. I giwe him the drink that he sought. But no sooner bad I done this than I began to accuse myself of inconsistency. I did not save a drowning youth true, but 1 did not with my own hand drown him. While agitating myself with these miserable and dangerous refinements— the ghastly casuistry woven by Guile when pricked with the arrows of cOr. victlon-certain indications assured me that another attack was imminent, and that Mr Hampton's fears were about to be realised. Influenced again by my evil genius, I rose in desperation. I rushed into an adjoining apartment, where, with my face buried in my hands, and myself torn with a thousand conflicting emotions, I remained for about a quarter of au hour. The attack hadc ime, nnd had done, apparently, its fatal work. Violently I rang the beli and summoned Mr Hampton. In a few minutes the doctor entered the room. He approached the bed, looked at the sufferer, and said, 'I fear it is too late, Mr Watson.' "Perhaps not," said I; "at all events, make the attempt." Mr Hampton, of course, did make the attempt, and in a few minutes desisted. He shook his head, saying, "A httle-and, I have reason to believe, only a very little-too late and in a few minutes I was again left alone. Thomton, I have had the money but since that hour I have never known peace. I am miserable—undone." Another pause. At length he resumed "Since that hour, Thornton, I have never known peace. My wife's tears for her father fell upon my heart like drops of fire; every look she gave me seemed to pierce my innermost thoughts; nay, she never spoke wlien I did not suppose she was about to be my accuser. Her presence—dear, fcood wife that she always was—became intoler- able it was an agony to endure it. I withdrew from her and from all society. I formed the dire notion that every man looked suspiciously upon me, and I had no companion but Conscience, which once I fondly thought I had overcome. Look at me, the mere shadow of a man, and you will see what conscience has made of me ? Agnes sickened, and, as you know, died. This I really accepted as a relief. What if I could jrsfc over my calamities in new scenes, new associa- tions—in a new life ? I began for a season to breathe more freely. I married ag-a.;n. But my old feelings returned—returned with renewed bitterness and terror. Events long, long passed became now more vivid. And now you know all. This is my history—the confession of my life!" And now," he continued, are you ready to draw up the will as I directed ? Now do you seo that it is the only possible fragment of reparation that I can possibly perform ? I am possessed of a quarter of a million, and it rightfully belongs only to the heirs of those for whom it was originally destined." Some conversation here ensued, in the course of which I laboured to show that, although the large property at Watson's disposal ought of course never to have come into his possession, yet if the terrible events which be had related bad not taken place it could never have belonged to those for whom he even now designed it. I admitted, however, the propriety of the principle of restitution (this, indeed, was a fear- ful kind of "conscience-money 1") to the branches of the family in which originally it had been vested. But I prevailed with Mr Watson in having a competency reserved for his own children and for bis wife, who married in the full belief that he was entirely able to provide for her. And so, at last, upon these principles the testament was framed and completed that same evening. It grew late. Frank Watson," said I, rising to take leave, let this painful subject drop for ever. When we meet agaiu let there be no allusicn whatever to your narrative — to the transactions of this evening.' Thornton, said be, we shall never meet again." But there, remedies, my friend," said I—for could I refuse to call the poor, miserable man before me by that kindly name ?—" there are remedies, unfailing remedies, for the accusations of conscience. If really you are sorry for your past evil life, if you really have compunction, it is yours to seek the consolations of religion. Bodily health, too, might then return. You are yet but little pastthe prime of life most sincerely do I trust that we may yet meet again in happier circumstances. Conscience, Watson, is not given us to kill, but to cure." Watson faintly smiled. Ye«, Thornton," said he, there are remedies. I know them. I will not fail to seek their aid. Good-night." I returned to my inn, and soon afterwards re- tired to bed, as may be easily believed, to think of tbe singular revelations opened to me that evening. I was greatly agitated and oppressed with these meditations and recollections, but at last I sank into a kind of fitful sleep. My dreams were disturbed, and they all were connected with Frank Watson. Sometimes he was swimming in the river or standing on the bank, pointing with his finger to a human bead that was just sinking sometimes he was sitting by the bedside of old Bellenden, examining the phials and the physic, and walking on tiptoe to the door and listening, or else be appeared rushing frantically from the room. Sometimes the scene of the past evening was renewed, and I again sat and listened to his dread recital. Then, again, be bad a phial in his hand, and uncorked it; raising it to his mouth, it seomed transformed to a small pistol; and just at this moment, with the fugi- tive "dreams of a sick man" (as Horace calls them) strongly impressed upon me, I started and awoke, The last scene remained forcibly and vividly on my mind; do what I would, I could not shake off the clinging impression. I do not call myself superstitious—am not, I believe, usually con- sidered so—but I felt impelled, as by some invisible hand or influence, to return and look after the unfortunate Watson. I locked at my watch it was an hour past midnight. Obedient to this singular impulse—I scarce knew how or why—I hastily dressed, and hurried down to Trumpington-8treet. There was yet a' light in one of the windows. I knocked gently at the door, and at the same time I applied my hand to the knob vigorously. Fortunately, it yielded to the pressure. I hurried upstairs, directed only by the situa- tion of the light I had seen. I entered the room. It WM just in the nick of time that I did .0. Watson, partially undressed, stood by a small table; he had raised within bis hand a phial; turned at my entrance, and with one stroke of my cane I broke the phial, and its contents were spilt on the floor. It was labelled Laudanum." TO his other sins he did not add that final one of im- penitence, despair, and suicide. His attendant and bis wife shortly entered the room, and in their charge I left him, now quiet comparatively, and subdued. I never saw him more. He retired, I afterwards learned, to a secluded spot in the South of France, where—voluntarily stripped of his wealth, and living in an honest poverty among French vIllagers-he sought for the remainder of bis life the only remedy, the only anodyne that would avail for a case complicated as his own. In his lowly habitation he was respected and beloved for his many acts of self-denial and kindness—as though he would fain manifest his deep contrition for the fearful past. Then he, too, passed away— the sigh of the "Requiescat" from the poor peasaut-fnlk being the solitary tribute to his name. None could conjecture the terrible story of that darkly-sinning, yet much-sorrowing, mortal; and, in the expressive words of Hamlet— The rest is silence.

THINGS BETTER LEFT UNSAID In the hurry of speech, and often in our anxiety to be polite, some of us are liable to occa- sional slips which may have the ludicrous effect of putting an entirely different construction upon a sentence than that intended. For instance, upon arriving at an entertainer's house, you say, "I beg a thousand pardons for coming so late," and are met by your hostess with the words, My dear sir, no pardons are needed; you can never come too late." Take another case. At a grand dinner a very heedless gentleman, who talked a great deal, forgot that his neighbour, a young lady, was un- unusually tall, and exclaimed, I do not like big women The lady bit her lip and the speaker seeing he bad made a blunder, and trying to repair it as gallantly as possible, added, When they are young, madam." At an evening party in Cork, a lady said to her partner, "Can you tell me who that exceedingly plain man is sitting opposite to us That is my brother." Oh, I beg pardon!" she replied, much con- fused. "I had not noticed the resemblance," That was certainly putting one's foot in it, and yet was, perhaps, not so awkward as this:— Do you see that gentleman over there, the handsome fellow twisting his moustache?" said one woman to another, to whom she had been introduced. He has been watching me all the evening, and making eyes at me. I think he must be smitten. Do you know who he is 2" "Yes; he is my husband." After a certain concertk a well-known German cantatrice asked a gentleman to whom she had been introduced bow he liked her duet. "Yon sang charmingly, madame. But why did you select such a horrid piece of music ?" "Sir, that was written hy my late husband Ah, yes, of course. I did not mean— But why aid you select, such a person to sing with you?" Ach Himmd, that is my present husband." Some people have such a pleasant way of putting things. "Now, do let me propose yon as a member," says Smith. But suppose they blackball me ?" replies Brown. "Pooh! Absurd! Why, my dear fellow, there's not a man in the club that knows you, even." A lady, very desirous of concealing tbe awful fact that she is the same age as her husband, observed to a visitor- My husband is forty; there are just five years between us." Is it possible?" was the guarded reply of her friend. "I give you my word, you look as young as he does." As unexpected must have been the reply of the husband whose wife said, 44 You have never taken me to the cemetery." No, dear," he answered, "that is a pleasure I have yet in anticipation." A rather different meaning from the one con- veyed was intended by the old lady who said to her friends- "No man was better calculated to judge of pork than my poor husband was. He knew what good hogs were, for he had been bronght up with 'em from his childhood." Much better unsaid would have been part of the address of a collector for charities, who, raising his hat to a lady at the front door, began, Madam, I am soliciting sor home charities. We have hundreds of poor, rageed, vicious children, like those at your gate, and our object is-" "Sir, those children are mine P and the slam- ming of the door finished the sentence. What are called "random shots" of a speech have a peculiar knack of hitting the mark. Not long since a negro customer entered a barber's shop, and said, I hope, gentlemen, you dout object to smoking?" The barber, without turning .found from his occupation, replied, Go on smoke till you are black in the face." A lady said something the other day at a friend's dinner that found a mark the archer little meant. There were several strangers present, and, in response to a remark made about a certain lady of a certain age, the fair guest in question exclaimed, Why, goodness gracious, she is as old as the hills!" and could not imagine in the least what had caused the consternation. She did a little later, however, when it was explained to her that two maiden sisters at the table, whose names she did not catch in the introduction, were called Hill, and were extremely sensitive on the subject of age. An alderman's wife, overtaken by a heavy shower of rain, took refuge in a shop, and pro- ceeded to make a few purchases. You seem very quiet to-day," she said to newly-engaged clerk, who was very attentive and obliging you are generally so very busy." gracious, madam, just look at the wea- ther What respectable lady would venture out of doors a day like this ?" Similarly ambiguous are some of the speakers in the following incidents:— h ^7P°mP0U3 physician said to a patient's wife, Why did yon delay sendiug for me till he was out of his mind 1" u Ob, doctor," said the wife, "while be was in his right mind he wouldn't let me send for you." Another doctor said to his wife, "You see, dear, I have pulled the patient through after all— a very critical case, I can tell you." Yes, dear hubby," was the answer, "but you are so very clever in your profession. Ah, if I had only known you five years earlier! I feel certain my first huaband-my poor Robert—would have been saved." To turn from doctors to clergymen. One Sun- day, as a certain minister was returning home- ward, he was accosted by an old woman, who said— Oh, air, well do I like the day you preach." The minister was aware he was not very popu- lar, and he answered— My good woman, I am glad to hear it. There are few like you. And why do you like when I preach 1" Oh, sir," she replied, when you preach I always get a good seat." A crooked compliment was paid to a German I young lady, who said— "Now, Herr Lieutenant, if you don't at once cease your flatteries, I shall have to bold both my ears shut." "My adorable Fraiilein," answered the officer, "your pretty little hands are far too small for that." Very sorry, sir," said a young beauty at a ball I am already engaged. I hope you are not very disappointed." "On, dear, no, miss, quite the contrary," was the unexpected reply of the gentleman. "And what do you think of the engagement ring I sent you, Jennie said a lover tenderly. ¡ Jennie answered, in delighted tones— 011, it is beautitul-in fact, the handsomest one I ever had given me." At a wedding breakfast the groom remarked to a little girl— You have a new brother now, you know." U Y eth," responded the little one. "Maseth it wath Lottie's latbt chance, so she'd bettor take it." "Here, my dear husband," said a loving wife, "I have brought you a dear little silver pig for luck. It's a charm, you know, dear, to bring hap- piness to a house." Ah, how kind of you, darling! But why should I need a little pig to bring me luck when I have you still ?" An awkward compliment recently rather dis- turbed the harmony of a wedding breakfast given by a substantial farmer blessed with five daugh- ters, the eldest being the bride. A neighbouring young farmer, who was honoured with an invita- tion, thinking, no doubt, he ought to say some- thing smart and complimentary upon the event, addressing the bridegroom, said— Well, you have got the pick of the batch The countenances of the four unmarried ones may be imagined.

BANC NOTE LITEP^TDBE,— Some laborious and ingenious person has been making a collection of bank note literature," or what people have scribbled on that esteemed paper. A few of the specimens he gives of the inscriptions are divert- ing enough:— It co nes as a boon and a blessing to men, Like the Pickwick, the Owl, and the Waverley pea, says one author, as a note to which another has added. They come as a boon-this is perfectly true, But aU ti.at comes her are damnably lew. A third author thus consoles himself 1uídør be- reavement, and parodies the Laureate :— 'Tis better to have had and lost Than never to have had at aU. Whilst the following was noticed on a Scotch bank note:— It's odd that any man should wish A dirty scrabbit rag like this; Yet mony II. aile ".oulll cut a caper To at a wheen sic bits o' paper. Thomas Rawlinson, an iron-smelter aJJd an Englishman, was the person who. about or prior to A.D. 1728, introduced the philabeg, or short kilt, worn in the Highlands. This fad Îifertab- lished in a letter from Ewin Baillie. of Aberiachan, in the "Edinburgh Magazine," 1785, and in the "Cullodcn Papers." The earliest dress of tbe Highlanders consisted of a large tartan wrapper extending from the shoulders to about the knees in one piece. Rawlinson's workmen, finding this garment inconvenient, separated the lower from the upper, so that they might, when heated, throw off the upper and leave tbe lower, which thus became the pbilabeg. or short kilt,

DymuoirWn gobebwyr Cymreig gyfeirio eu Roheb- 'I laethau, liyfrau rw hadoiygu, &c., fel y canlyn: Dufydd Morcranwg, [organwg House, Llaatwit- street, Cardiff.

AT EIN GOHEBWYR. "Y Goeuen. Y mae hon yo eitbaf addfed. "Merch y Seer."—Eithaf cymmeradwy. I U Pennillion Cyflwynedig i Mr S. Sb."—Lied anystwyth yw'r pennill cyntaf, uherwydd sill- golli rhwng y cydseiniaid, ac hefyd i ddechreu llinell. Heblaw hyn, y maent yo rhy bersonol a lleol. "Y Niwl."—Mae'r symudiad o'r cyrch i'r ail linell mor anystwyth fel y bu rhaid newid ei Surf, rhag iddo fod yn dywyliwch yn lie niwl. "Rhewac Eira yn Hvdref."—Prydlon a phri- odol. Byddwch yn fanwl gyda.'r gynghanedd. "Y Severn Tunnel. Darn eithaf celfydd a. chyrcmeradwy. "Y Segurwr."—Darn lied dda, ond yn rhy ddifrifol. Buasai gwatwargerdd yn taro y testyn yn well. Y mae ambell fai, neu becbod 011 mynwcb, na wna dim ond gwawd ei ladd, neu ei wella. "Er Serchus Gof am J. D."—Nid yw'r llinellan yn ateb ein dyben. U Cyfarfod y Groglith yn Seiloh, &c."—Rby Ieol. Y mae genym barch mawr i'r teulu y eyr. ciriweh ato, ond rhaid cadw at y rheol. "Craig yr Oesau."—Byddwch yn ofalus gyda'r mesur, frawd. Mae'r llinell gyutaf yn rby fyr. Y Ddau Leidr."—Rhagorol, "Y Flwyddyn," Yr Hen Lane."—Ymddang- 08ant. Traws Gyfioithiau Prydain. Y mae'r awdwr yn rby dyner yn eu trin. I Y Cwpan."—Gresyn na fyddai yr awdwr yn llunio'r llinellau yn fwy celfydd. Y mae'r odliad yn wallus iawn. Dylai'r llinell gyntaf odli drydedd, yn ogystal a'r ail a'r bedwaredd ar fesnr fel hwn ac befyd y bummed a'r seithfed linell. Yr ydym yn galw sylw at hyn mor ami fel ag i beri i ni gredu na ddarllenir y sylwadau, ac felly mai y ffordd oreu yw peidio gwneyd sylw o gwbl o ddarnau annghelfydd. Wrth gwrs, yr ydym yn cymmeryd yn ganiataol fod ein gohebwyr yo gwybod beth olygir wrth y gair "ODLAC." "Tra y Gelwir hi Heddyw.Testyn da, a llaw ysgrifen dda; ond yr odlau yn anaftxs. Os ad-drefnwch yr odlau fel ag i'w gosod yn lfydd, bydd yn dda genym eu cyhoeddi. Yr an fath hefyd am y dam ar Y Cwpan."

BARDDONIAETH, GORPHENWYD. Gorphenwyd gair o ffiniau-ysbrvdol, Sibrydwyd yn angau Prif air y Groes i'r oesan, ei hedd sy'n llawenhau. Allwedd lor i drysorau—mawr y lawn, Lie ma'i ras yn maddau Agor hwn i drugarhau Yn rasol wna trwy'r oesau. Gorphenwyd agor fIynon-i achos Afiectyd y galon; Duw o'i ras yw awdwr hon, A'i gariad arni'n goron. Iesu i'r byd yn ra.801-a lefodd O'i lwyfan condemniol, Nes i furiau nos farwol-banes dyn Falurio, wedyn nef hawl waredol. Gowerton. GRUOFBTK.

Y WAWR. Y Wawr! 0, fun foreuoIt A'i gwen o liw amrywiol, Mor bert y cwyd o'i gwely clyd Ar war y byd dwyreiniol. Bob boreu, bys arian, Agora'i dor yn egwan, Ac yna'n glau yr huan glftn Gusana ruddiau auian. Ymafla'n esgyll daear A'i llaw yn ewyllyggar; Ysgydwa'r byd i gyd yngn I ganu iddi'n gynar. Tra Uu y nef yn Uonydd, A'r tarth ar fin afonydd, Bydd don, yn llenyrch bon, Yn lloni mewn llawenydd. Mae'n deffro y dyffrynoedd Yn nwyfus dan y nefoedd, adar del, ar fryn a dot, Yn moli wrth y miloedd. Y dyn ar ffordd ffolineb Y nos, yn mbair anmhuredd, A trilia fel o byrth y bedd Pan ddengys gwedd ei gwyneb. Y claf yn ei afiechyd Yn oriau'r nos Ry'n sychlyd Yn ngwenau'r wawr fe ei glwy' Adfywio'i fwy o fywyd. O! wawr, bell, IAn o liwian, Mal aurdlos arian dlysni, Y Haw fu'n lliwio hon mewn lliw Yw eiddo Duw y duwiau. Paentiad wna Duw heb bwyntel-»yw'r waft A'r aur-leni'r gorwel; Ebrwydd y trengai Gabriel Dan ei faich cyn gwneyd un feL Caerdydd- lOAN GLAN TILWL

CARIAD MERCH. (CTFIKITHIAD.) Can i mi ganiad y crychiog wyllt ddyfmedd, rvn i mi ddarlun o freuddwyd wag, fiol; Cerfia im' ddelw cyrff tecaf dy ferched, Casgl im' eiriau y ffrwd yn y ddol. yn mhelydr yr haul yn ei harddweb, Ciym hwy yn euraidd gylymau i mi Hefyd trvsora ber sawr y blorieuvn. Mesur ddifesur ddyfnderoedd y 11'. Chwilia am ]ais yr ystorm yn y daran, Mesnr byd cywir y ffiachiau ddaw mas Gorwedd a meddwl, cyfrifa ryfeddol Nifer y Uafnau mewn erw o dir glas. 'Mafla'n y gwyntoedd tra n tramwy yr eigion, Rhwym bwy A thidau y nenfwa gljin Ceisia ddystewi y môr pan mewn cvffro, Cyirif ronynau yr aur-dywod m £ n. Gwylia y tonau yn golchi y creigle, Gan ymgusanu dy draed fel yn syn • Yna pan welir hwy'n gymhleth, pwy ddywed Fod ynaill dou oddiwrth y Hall pryd byn? Casgl ddyferynau y gwlitb yn y boreu, Plyg fyny lesni yr wybren fawr dderch Cyfrif y eer sydd ar balmant y nefoedd, Ond byth medri dreiddio i galon ddofn merch. Gowerton. CTNLKISTDD.

Y PAGAN. Y Pagan trigt, hwnt yn byd Arweinia'i einioes; cilia'i ddyddiau't gyd Yn 01 i Dduw, ac yntau'n ddall mewn dwysder Yn ymbalfalu hyd barwyddyd aniser, Heb wvbod dim am HWNW sydd o hyd Yn geni ac yn claddu dyddiau'r byd. Pob dydd dywyna ar ei fywyd sy' Yn nghyfrol brudd ei oes fel dalen ddu; Yr haul fel cawr i redeg gyrfa ddaw Hyd fendigedig faes y nefoedd draw, Gan chwerthin arno drwy belydrau claer, Wrth wisgo'i ddaear oil mewn amdo aur; Ond nid oes uu pelydryn bach erioed 0 Haul Cyfiawnder wedi rhoi ei droed I lawr i wasgar y tywyllwch oesol Sydd fel yn gorwedd ar ei enaid bytboL Cymylau duon anwybodaeth doa Holl nen ei fywyd, nid oes un symuda; Nid ydyw balmaidd wynt Calfaria'n chwytbn Byth i wneyd hollt yn uu o'r cymyl fyny. Rby dywyll yw i wel'd 'run Seion Fryn Yn cytarch gwenau Haul Cyfiawnder wyn; Ni wyr am Groes" na'r Dwyfol waed a. fu Yn llifo drosto yntau'r pagan du. Mae'r Seren Foreu eglur" heb gyfodi Yn nwyrain ddu ei fywyd i wasgaru Ei golau sauctaidd hyd ei ddwys fodolapth, A chwerthin ar ei wyneb prudd Dros iacbawdwriaetb. Mae rhywbeth yn ei fynwes ef yn tystio Fod Duw yn bod,—mae yntau fel yn chwilio Yn ngolau natur am y PKRSOX bwnw Sydd wrth y cread wedi rhoi ei enw. 0 flaen marwoldeb syrthia i addoli, Gwastraffa'i fawl yn ngwyddfod coed a. meini, Abertha iddynt, tybia mai hwy sydd Yn sibrwd wrth ei galon nos a dydd. Ei drem sy'n bwl. rhy bwl i dremio draw I anfarwoJdeb-oi ddaeth byd a ddaw Erioed i'w feddwl; uwch y bedd eye, Fe gyll ei holl symadau Eu ffordd yn niwl y glya. Mae llnsern aur Efengyl bur y nef Heb dafiu llewyrch ar ei enaid ef. MICKAK. THOMAS.

MYFYRDOD WRTH WELED GWENOL OLAF 1887. 0, wenol fwyn paham ar 01 arbosi Yn Nwlad y Gan, ben wlad y swynol delyn, Tra, mae dy hoh gymdeithion wedi croesi i I dir mwy hafaldd-pam na wnai en canlyn? Y mae awelon oerion hydref weithian Yn dweyd mai croesaw gwael a gei di yma, i Am fod yr haf dywydd diddan Yu rboddi ffordd i 'stormydd oerion A ydyw mawredd y rnynyddau oesol Gofleidir gan y cymyl yn dy hudo, A murmur y cornentydd giau, mor swynol Nes gwell yw marw genyt uag ymado? Neu, oes yn my y llwyni fangre dawel Orcbaddir gan y dail, sydd gyssegradig, Am fod cydymaith yno nisei, isei Ei ben, edyn chwim yn fyth gloedig? Angbofia'r rhosydd teg, a'r dolydd ffrwythlon, A'r oil o'r swynol bethau dy ataJ, A dispyn ar chwim edyn i gysuron Yr beulicg dir, a'i froydd teg, a'i anial. A thra yn mwyniant nef sydd yn ddigwinwl, 0, cofia etc dd')d yn ol I Grymu, Oblegid fe fydd Ilawer yu dy duysgwyl O'r rhai dristaent wrth dy wel'd yn cetaQ. Dw ymadawiad gwenol ddiwedd hafddydd 'Madawiad Cristion &'r byd hwn i'n meddwl, Pan mae yn araf adael gwlud y cystudd, A'r enaid mawr yu hedeg o'r drycbfeddwl, A'r Ryniad gwan o Dduw oetid yn feddiaau. I'w woled fel y mae, a byth ei foil. Alltywalis, Caerfyrddin, W. T,

BEH IN DTHE COUNTER Sketches by a Shop Assistant. I.—SEEKING A SITUATION. Like everything else, business houses are ia- creasing and advancing at a very rapid rate. He who insists upon doing business in the old- fashioned jog-trot is as much out of place aa a man would be who insisted upon travelling in a stage coach instead of by rail. The easy-goin* business man of a few years ago, with his small returns and large profits, has had to give way to the energetic and enterprising men of to-day with their SMALL PROFITS AND caDICE nETURS. This has revolutionised the system of trading with the masses, fostering ready-money transac- tions by active and keen competition. Business men rush forward at breakneck speed, and so. thoroughly has the public mind been educated in this direction that the amount of patronage received depends upon the prices of the articles offered; hence the extensive retail establishments with their armies of assistants. Yet the "upply of shop assistants considerably exceeds the demand, and this has brought about a very unpleasant state of affairs, affecting the whole aspect of an assistant's life. Salary has become a pittance, and the good feeling which should exist" between employer and employé has in manj- cases become, on the one hand, a tyrannical despotism, and on the other a slavish fear. THOUSANDS OF YOUTHS. The number of shop assistants has been aug- mented by thousands of youths who have flocked into our shops and warehouses to undergo a legitimate training, while a great number of persons have been promoted to the counter from the warehouse and the goods delivery vans— a proceeding the wisdom of which is open to criti- cism. Another proceeding which is a source of considerable dissatisfaction to the old hand" is the indiscriminate employment of the perienced, and when we consider the monopoly, v of situations enjoyed by junior assistants, no onaf, can blame him, for in his case a life-long expend ence, and the business tact which is the out-* come of a complete training, go for nothing A youth is apprenticed to the trade for two or three years, the term of apprenticeship being divided between the delivering of parcels on a sack truck and doing some odd jobs in and around the premises. After the completion of hit apprenticeship he remains in tbe same place for another year at a remuneration of ten pounds. A PUSHING JUNIOR. A desire to see a little about" haying taken possession of him, be offers himself as a candidate for the post of a junior assistant, and in the majority of cases secures the coveted situation, and is paid according to his height and appearance. I do not blame those young IDeII, who have the "go" and energy to secure and": retain such situations, but I desire to impren upon our business men the ad visabilityand advan- tage of allowing experience to receive their due, sstimation and acknowledgment. It should be remembered that although junior assistant! possess a perfect knowledge of the general routine of a business house, they cannot be expected to. have the tact and varied accomplishments of counter bands of nany years' experienoe. This false economy, only too often practised by many firms, is detrimental to their best interests, and often produces disastrous results. A few months, ago one of the MOST SUCCESSFUL BUSINESS KEN IN WALES, man interview with writer, attributed hie phenomenal success to the employment of men of experienoe, for," in bilJ own words, "if you are forced to obtain assistance in the working and management of your business, you should be care- ful in the selection of your men. They should be of long experience, loud paid well." This gentle- man is well known in the commercial world, and has never wavered from this opinion or failed to act on it. ADVERTISING FOB ASSISTANTS. Seeking a situation involves much patience, and many a weary glance over the Shop Assis- tants column ef the newspapers, and when your hopes are seemiwgly about to be fulfilled, they. alas, often prorve to be mere bubbles. It is the custom of some employers, for the sake of ap- pearances—to make a good outward show-to advertise fop four or five assistants, when, ia reality, they do not require one. I have known cases where personal applications have been made at nine o'clock on the morning of the' -first appear- ance of an advertisement, and the applicant has been gruffly informed that the vacancy was filled, though I knew it to be not the case and could not be the case, as there was no vacancy to be filled. The nature which could thus tempt dozens of unemployed assistants to spend their hard-earned savings in railway fares in order to make an early and personal application for long- needed employment must have a most con- temptuous desire to appear in print, or a wilful inclination to mislead the public. In seeking for a situation you are not infrequently brought into contact with SOME CONSIDERATE AND GENEROUS EMPLOYERS tP) About ten years ago I recollect writing to a grocer not 50 miles from Cardiff, who was adver- tising for an assistant. I received the following reply :— Dear Sir,—Yours to hand. We shall require youtc attend to provision counter, deliver goods, and take the care of a horse and trap occasionally. Must be non-smoker and total abstainer, and willing to make yourself generally useful. Salary to commence jBIS per annum. Indoors.— Yours, kc., » lotal abstinence from alcohol and tobacco wouht be almost imperative in an assistant receiving £18 a year if be had a desire to keep up appearances. "Making yourself generally useful" opens up such a wide and unknown field of labour that failed to pluck sufficient courage to accept th considerate and generous offer; yet it Was'1 accepted, then, by a fellow-assistant. Such offers have been eagerly accepted since, and continue to- be accepted by many. An advertisement for an experienced hand in the grocery or drapery trade generally secures from 20 to 60 applications in tbe course of three mornings, in addition to many personal calls. APPLICANTS CATECHISED. On applying, the applicant generally has to., undergo a veritable catechism of questions, and is asked to produce testimonials from all previous situations, despite the fact, of which employers are well aware, that all testimonials are private. communications to tbe applicant, and that it is an invariable rule with employers not to repeat an assistant's character. A few years ago I entered tbe offices of a firm of large operations, and waa assailed with such a volley of questions that it may not be amiss to append a few ot them with. What i» your age?" "Twenty-four." Do you drink ?" Yes, aa occasional glass." "Iobject to young men who have a habit or spending their evenings at a bar. Of course, I have no objection to an occasional glass.' Why did you leave your last situation?" Long hours." wOh!" VV hat is your fat ber?" A builder." Yonr mother is alive ?"* Yee." Have you any brothers 7* "Yee, one." What is he ?" Printer." Oh The above are a few. 1 left with the assurance of a communication in the course of a week, and walked home with the strange idea that the shop- keeper intended engaging our family, but it wasn't so, for I never beard from nim. His firm employ over one hundred assistants, and all applicants undergo this catechising ordeal, which serves to keep the gentleman well posted in the pedigree of his slaves. A LRGAf, AGREEMENT. Another class of employers require the appli- cant to enter into a legal agreement that on leaving their employ be will not accept another sitoatioa within ten miles of their establishment, nor open forhimself within the same radios, I am sorry to state that there are many young men in the trade who are submissive enough to consent to this form of slavery. Nothing but tyranny could possibly dictate such unreasonable terms. I hope employers will awake to the injustioe ef sucb agreements, and will endeavour to cultivate those mutual feelings of consideration and friendliness which should bind capital and labour together. Let there be an attempt made to win the obedience of love and not of fear. The subject of my next article will be Salary and Work."

The general average of the human pulse, tboqgfa the exceptions are numerous, may be put at birth at 140 two years, 100 from 16 to 19, 80 at manhood, 76; and old age, 60. Downey is not a bad sort of chap, but be under- stands more about horses and dogs, and such kind of things, than be does about literature and taw classics. The other day he was comforting a ■friend who had taken up the study of tbe law rather late in life, and was somewhat despondent as regards his prospect of success. Why," said Downey, where there is a will there is a way. Hercults translate the Bible after he tons sixty P Lord Derby has recently expressed the opinion that to have a well-instructed people is no 1_ than a question of life or death to a nation, and £ he specially commends competitions, prizes, scholarships, &c., as valuable agencies for the, diffusion of sound and useful teaching. Apropoe* o/this, it may be mentioned that ttie editor of Cassell's Magazine has prepared a mfeme of an amateur free university, of which details tr given in the December part, <

[Now First PubiishedJ HERR PAULUS: -Ø FIIS RISE, HIS GREATNESS, AND HIS FALL. By WALTER BESANT, Author of All Sorts and Conditions of Men," &c., &e. [THE RIGHT OF TRANSLATION IS RESERVED.] BOOK THE SKCOND. CHAPTER IX.-T-THE MESSAGE OF THE BANK BOOK. r- R Brudenel retired to his study. But this retreat, sacred to learning and medita- tion, was now trans. formed, in the man- ner peculiar to the operations of fate, into a Chamber or Cave of Despair, peopled by monstrous fiends, who accused him of wasting and throwing away the Property entrusted to his charge. For a man of honour and integrity to lose trust money, the fortunes of wards and children, is a very dreadful thing. By crippling himself and living in poverty he might, in course of years, replace the money. But he was now old he would certainly reach the Plotted term long before the money could be replaced. He would bequeath his lands to make the amount for Tom and Cicely; and then k'byl would have nothing. And to think that the greatand honourableand prosperous Company, which he himself founded and endowed with the Magnificent business created by his father, and christened with the name of his father, should break I Is it a light thing to hear one's name associated with failures and bankruptcy and the curses of thousands I Sibyl came to console him by all the endearing acts and the soothing words at her command. Go, child,' he replied. Gc, Sibyl, and leave me alone. The family is disgraced. We can never hold up our heads again. I have lost the fortunes place'i in my charge. I am a defaulter. Yours is lost, child, as well as Tom's and Cicely's. Leave me alone to face the disaster." Then Lady Augusta came to him, bringing, in token ot peace, the Message concerning the Bank Book. Mr Brudenel scoffed at that Message and, ndeed, a Bank Book seems a futile thing in jtself with which to retrieve a loss of five and Mfty thousand pounds. One might as well 'Btrieve a lost battle by collecting the spent car- fidget Lady Augusta conjured him to obey in name of the great and wiselziik Ibn Menelek. derided that sacred name. She implored him 01 the sake of Paul, their guest, their guide, their friol,d, to obey. He blasphemed the name of He shall go," cried Mr Brudenel Paul shall go this very day. Saice his Friends are unwilling or Suable to avert disaster, let him go. I want not their kind of friendship any longer, Augusta; \Ve have been tormented all our lives by the aPathyt the ingratitude, and the mockery of those Iotn we have striven to belt). What did nltnuel Chick's spirits—or Lavinia's either— f.Ver d° for us ? Nothing. We sacrificed our for them—wo tolerated all kinds of self- Peking people. They did nothing for us in return. What have Paul's Friends done for us?" In spite of his disappointments, Mr Brudenel still believed fervently in the spirits and their messa- ges, as well as in the Seer of Abyssinia. "Tell him, Augusta, that I am bitterly disappointed in him. He bad better pack up and leava us*. I want to tee him no more. His Friends must have known what was wrong. They can annihilate space, they can transport things and people two thou- sand miles in a moment. Yet they could not Interpose to save these innocent children from losing their.all. And he calls it a trifling matter Tell him he may go, my dear. When he is gone we 1\>ill have nothing irore to do with the other world Or with those in communion with it, or with those Who have acquired power over the spirits. I will 8:11 niy llurary-we will sell this house and go and live in some country cottage so as to save for the children some of their fortune back again. And e will go to church, Augusta, like other folk, Satisfied with what they know. That shall be fittough for U8, my dear. Tell Paul he may go this Very day. As for sending for the Bank Book, I "lirlit as well take and draw a cheque for the Nvhole five and thirty thousand pounds. Go, my dear, and leave me alone, since I am deserted by those who ought to help leave me to think, if I can, what may still be done." Lady Augusta withdrew in tears and reported his contumacy. And presently they all retired 111 Various directions—Sibyl sat somewhat apart, IInd the sound of the piano and her singing tvas not heard. Cicely went to her room, where Hetty was waiting for her, but there was little teadlllg done—mostly the two girls talked over What had happened, and Cicely considered the Object of Poverty as applied to hevself, partly in the light of Hetty's experience, which was cer. tainty wide and deep and also most discouraging, -nd partly from a speculative point of view Educing its lessons and finding its consolations, on which the girl who had never known its pains discoursed movingly in the manner of Paul to the other who had known those pains and pinches. As for Tom, he was consulting the family solicitors. Paul himself was out. He went, in fact, to .pend the morning with his amiable friend in Beaumont-street, about whom, for his own reasons, h, did not tell anybody. On his return at one o'clock, he met Sibyl cross- ing the Hall. "Herr Paulus," she said, regarding him with the utmost severity, I wish to tell you that toothing in the whole history of the Impostors who have been the curse of this house has ever inspired me with more disgust than your conduct this morning." Paul bowed gravely, putting his heels together III the foreign fashion. He was clad in his magnifi. ^nt tur-lined great coat, and, with his hat in his hand, looked like some young foreign Prince or otentate. But Sibyl regarded not his looks. Had you really possessed those powers which you claim "—Paul raised his eyebrows slightly— *you would have prevented this calamity. Other- wise you would deserve to be turned out of doors with ignominy for your treachery. '■That you have nt done so proclaims aloud that you are an impostor." Sibyl was really **toni»hed at her own freedom of speech, and went on encouraged Your affecta- tion of superiority to mjney considerations also Proves your trickery. It was overdone, sir. It *as brutal. It was underbred." Paul reddened t the last word, which perhaps touched him 'la tender place. "No gentleman could have behaved in that manner, I have always strongly 8ls[jected and disliked you now I despise you. That is all, Herr Paulus, that I have to say-ex. cept," she added, "that I trust my father's eyes Inay be opened by this incident, aud that we shall yery soon indeed bid you farewell." Again Paul bowed. "There is something written somewhere," he laid, about coals of fire upon your enemy's head. Perhaps He b.,wed again, and, leaving the sentence unfinished, he went up- 8tlirs to his own room. The luncheon, which had become since Paul's arrival an animated and cheerful meal, enlivened With many a youthful jest and merry tale, began fnost gloomily. Only the ladies wera present, and they were all dejected. Sibyl, in addition, had Rteat wrath, and was also perhaps a little ashamed uf herself for her attack on Paul. He, however, preserved a cheerful air, and worked his way through the dishes with ft steady appetite and Continued display of that, callousness which Sibyl calie<J brutal and underbred. On such occasions as that of 't family calamity, the cook ought to make the table it-elf glow with synip;»thy. A bereavement requires cold meat Jf it be a bereavement which brings a legacy Pp a succession, it should be cold chicken If it possesses no such consolation, cold boiled Litton. Loving memory should bo marked the disappearance of tho lighter and ^ore festive dishes there should ba no purge, lao fillet of sole, no cut.et a la Soubise, and II() Hi de veau no jolly little lllnh, such as ^"Vers, snipe, partridges, pheasants, or blackcock. 0 ge ie*, aspics, omelettes, iees, creams, or 1)"Itty c-akes. A sombre array of chops and steaks, ^si&ly cocked, suggestive of solid plebeian work- aday ccmiorc, col,1 bailed beef, tongue, with at I In,lot half-pay pudding, should alone be served Perhaps the season why Sibyl ate nothing at was because thi* rule had not bseu carried t-- out, and the table smiled and sparkled with artistic plenty and festive variety, as if nothing had happened. Had the cook no feelings ? Yet all the household knew by this time that the fortunes had been lost. "Where is your father, dear?" asked Lady Augusta, with a sigh. He is ill in his study. I do not think we shall see him at luncheon," said Sibyl with a pro- found sigh and a glance at Paul. "The Trifling Incident of this morning has been too much for him." Then Tom came in, cheerful, but with that cheerfulness which the brave young man pre- serves and exhibits on all occasions, say, after losing a boat race, or having his play damned, or after being beaten at the hundred yards, or after losing his first class, or on getting his MS. re- turned by the editor, or on getting the sack or after proving to himself how easiiy nd swiftly and unexpectedly a fortune of -015,000 miv take wings and fly away without saying farewell, aud be no more seen, leaving not a trace behind, nor anything to prove who has got it all. That is the most wonderful thing to understand who does get all the money that is lost ? Well, good people," he said, "let me have luncheon. One may be a pauper and yet get hungry. Paupers are always getting hungry, and it is a great nuisance for the ratepayers. Eating ought to be a luxury for the rich. Cicely, you and I are paupers. Yes, Sibyl," his voice dropped a little, because this meant so much more to her than to Cicely, I have now got to work in earnest." That is, indeed, a great misfortune," Paul ob- served. Your friends ought to go into mourning for you, Tom," My dear philosopher, you benrup so well and so nobly that I hope you will yourself shortly meet with a similar alffiction. I should rejoice to keep up my own pecker while you lost your money, and I would follow your example in not being depressed more than I could help with other people's misfortunes, I will take a cutlet. Well, I have been since breakfast to Lincoln's Inn Fields, where 1 have conversed, but without getting any comfort, with the Man of Law. I have been likewise into the city. So far as can be learned there « no chance of anything being saved. There is but one opinion. lotal wreck. Cargo lost. Urew-tilat is the shareholders-cast away. MANY are already, I hear, inquiring into the menu of the workhouse dinner, and whether the nature of the sleeping accommodation has been maligned, and what is the uniform. The liabilities are anything you please, and the assets are as low as they make make 'em. Beer for me. We shall be lucky, all of us, if we continue to get beer." If everything is gone," said Piml, with a sweet smile of patience, can we not agree to say no more about it ? We talked about nothing else at breakfast, and Mr Brudenel actually lost his temper over it." We can, Panl, and we will," Tom replied. I am going to whistle fortune down the wind. I don't quite understand how to do it, but you shall show me. It is a. part of the Ancient Way, I am sure. If fortune is not kind to me, what care I how fair she be ? You are quite right, Paul; it is best to talk about it no more." "More is lost than money, Tom," said Sibyl, shaking her head solemnly and mournfully; the Family Name is disgraced. We can never look people in the face auy more we can never get over it; we can never go into society any more we can never lift up, our heads again; we can never, never recover from the dishonour of-" At this point Mr Brudenel himself appeared, and so transformed was he, so miraculously changed, that Sibyl could not in common decency finish the sentence, though she bad been quoting her father word for wt-rd. If the family name had been really disgraced by the event of the morning he must have found some wonderful soap capable of instantaneously removing any stains, because joy and satisfaction shone upon his face like the sun upon a fie.d of golden grain. Yes-joy, satis- faction, content, and happiness were all shown on that happy face, wreathed with smiles. He walked as if he wanted to break out into a dance; he spoke as if he wanted to laugh and sing. Paul I" he cried, forgive me 1 I ought never to have doubted. How could I doubt ? Forgive me I was hasty and of little faith. Oh my dear friend, they have not forgotten me after all They have not forgotton ice They remembered that whatever my own views might be as to the worthlessness of the niolley-I bad wards-and a daughter—and a daughter." He offered his hand, which Paul grasped with effusion. There is nothing to forgive," lie said. "I know' what has happened. But you will tell us, will you tiot ? our doubts were natural. Tell evetybo'.iy what has happened. You have the Bank-Book, I see." It was in Mr Brudenel's hand. "It was only five minutes ago that it was brought to tha door. Who sent for the Bank- Book ? Did you, Augusta ?" Have you forgotten, my dear Cyrus," sho replied, somewhat coldly, what pas-ied in the study when I suggested the sending for the bank- book ? It was not likely that I should take upon myself after that to send for the book." Then it was you, Paul, was it ?" c. Certainly not. You can easily ask the clerk at the bank who sent for it. Go on. You have got your bank-book. Let us start with that." Well, Augusta Girls I rl\m 1 We are saved after all I We are saved That is what I have to tell yuu-we are saved I" 11 This morning," said Tom, we were lost. Are we the shuttlecocks of fortune ? Perhaps to- morrow we shall be lost again. I beg your pardon, sir, for interrupting. How were we saved ? Some swam ashore some clung to——" Well." Mr Brudenel's face showed bewilder- ment. It was always an expressive and a candid face, which revealed every emotion, and there was no doubt now that he felt the extremity of bewilderment. By some extraordinary accident I had forgotten—clean forgotten—I cannot under- stand how I should have forgotten hut as a matter of fact-I-I-I-sold otit-it seems—yes I sold out all the shares in the Compauy standing to my name three weeks ago." "Sold out?" cried Tom. "Is it possible? How could yon forget buch a thing as that." "I sold the shares. The bankruptcy of the Company, I rejoice to say, has passed over our heads like a harmless thunderstorm. It cannot hurt us in any way." "But the disgrace to the fomily name," said Sibyl. My dear Mr Brudenel hastened to im- press a distinction of 81) much importance upon his daughter—"a thing which seems disgraceful when it is coupled with such a loss of money loses its terror when there is no loss of money. We have been separated so long from the direction of the compauy that no stain, I now perceive, can attach to us." "And we are not paupers after all said Ciely. Then I know whom we have to thank." No doubt," said Sibyl. U Herr Paulus will explain it all to us presently." Why did you sell the shares?" 1-1-1 cannot remember." Never anywhere had one seen more bewilderment in the face of human creatures. "It is a most wonderful thing. I cannot remember anything at all aoout it." L Nofc remember making so great a change in your investments?'' "No It is a most remarkable thing. I see that it is; I confess that it is. Yet I cannot re- member why I sold tho shares or how I gave instructions, or anything at all about them. It is most remarkable." It is, indeed, said Tom, gravely. He remem. bered his guardian's complaint about forgetting every day what pt.ssed in his excursions to and from Abyssinia, He didn fc believe iu those excursions, but he began to suspect some sort of softening. Only a man whose brain was going could forget such a thing as the transfer of thirty- five thousand pounds. I did seil tiiem, that is certain. And I have not yet invested the money in anything else," Mr Brudenel went on. It is all in my current account. Most wonderful. Paul, do you know anytllitig ? Can you throw any light? Can you help us to understand this?" Ask me anything," Paul replied, except about business. I know no more of shares and money than I know of Tom, cog-wheels, and springs." Here is the Bank-Book, with a note from the manager, which I found in the drawer of my table," Paul took both. On the left hand side of the Bank Book was an entry,— By sale of shares, C35,456 13s 6d." The manager's letter, dated on the same day as the entry in the book, was short. Dear Sir,—In accordance with your instruc- tions I have sold all your shares in Brudenel and Co. The stock was at 37. I have placed tho amount realised, viz., L35,456 13s. 6d., to your credit until further instructions." That was all. You see," said Paul, he says, in accordance with your instructions.' To be sure, he could not sell them without your instructions. At least, I su ppUS6 not." And you do not remember giving those instructions ? Tom asked. To begin with, you must have had reasons for selling them." Well, Tom, I must have had reasous. I sup- pose I had reasons. What do you think my reasons were now ? If anybody could remind me of those reasons I might remember." Somebody must bgv4 bave warned you-tal t you something—aroused your suspicions. In such a matter as the solvency of this Company—your own Company—it must have been something very seriou3 indeed that could m ike you resolve to take such a step as to sell out all your shares. You must have gone through a considerable period of doubt and hesitation—you must have argued with your:eli-perhttps with someoue else- Never with uio," said Paul, on whom Tom's eye rested firpt.. Nor with me," said Lady Augusta for the same reason. You must, one would think, have passed days of consideration and doubt-you must have felt most anxious about the safety of the company. The resolution must have caused you the greatest pain. And yet you forget—you forget." "Of course," said Cicely, "Paul's friends helped. He asked them, this morning, to help, and thsy did. They told us to send for the bank book." "Unfortunately for that theoiy, Cicely," sad Tom, the transfer of the shares cook placs three weeks ago. Even Paul's friends, I presume, with- out wishing in any wny to limit their power. can- not actually put time back for three weeks. To annihilate space is one thing. To bring back and alter the past is another." Perhaps," said Mr Brudenel, my daily visits to Abyssinia absorbed my attention altogether, and made me foraet everything." "Possibly," Tom replied. "If I went to Abyssinia and back every day, I should think the journey would account for every tiling." It is most wonderful," Mr Brudenel said, for the tenth time. "If I iniglit offer a suggestion," said Paul, gently, "it would be this: On the 23rd of this month, Mr Brudenel's guardianship ceases. He may have intended to hand to each of his wards their portion entire, to be re-invested as they might think best, and, therefore, he sold out with- out any doubts at all in his mind as to the solidity of the Company. He had invested theirs to the best advantage he would now in surren- dering his trust give them not an investment, but the whole portion in a cheque." "That was it—that was it!" cried Mr Brudenel, eagerly jumping at the suggestion. I remember now. Ttiat was the reason why I sold out. That was my intention. That was in my mind. That accounts for it. In fact, I remember everything now. You see, Tom, don't you, why I sold out ? Thank you, Paul. You always come to our help in everything." But," said Tom, who had now looked at the other side of the Bank Book, there is something else here. How do you account for paying away the whole of the money a. week after to other people ?" What paying away? To other people ?" In three cheques." Tom read the following entries: To Izak Ibn Menelek, £ 20,000 j to Rupert P. Zeigler, 910,000; to Surabjee Kamsit- jee, £ 5,000. What?" This was more unexpected even than the entrr on the left-hand side. "Look for yourself. Do you remember those cheques ?" Mr Brudenel read the entries. Yes; the whole of the money so wonderfully rescued from the falling Company had been paid away in those three cheques. He looked about him helplessly. What does it mean ?" he asked. "I remember nothing at all," he said. "Nothing at all about any of these cheques." Then all with one consent turned to Paul. Even Thomas the Doubter and Sibyl the Infidel turned to Paul for explanations. Come," said Tom. The first of these gentle- men, Mr Izák Ibn Menelek, the illnstrous Saga of Abyssinia, who gets a cheque for £20,000, is, I believe, a personal friend ot yours, Paul. The least you can do for us in the matter is to ask him for an explanation how and why he got the money." Certainly, I will ask him to explain the whole business. But they are all three friends of mine, I will ask them all." Put it to the Wise Man," said Tom, from a modern point of view. Let him understand that money is III these days only paid to people in return for services rendered or promised explain to him what getting money under false pretences means perhaps he is only posted in the Ancient Law and the Hidden Way. Tell him how awk. ward things are made now-a-days for people who persuade other people out of their money." I will ask thein all why they took the money. But perhaps they will not tell me." That is very likely," said Sibyl. Perhaps we may make them. Let us under- stand each other, Paul. It is Sibyl's money and Cicely's and mine that is concerned. I want no fooling around in this matter." My friends never fool around. If they will not tell me I cannot make them. And frankly, I believe they will not tell me.' I shall hold you responsible tor this money, said Tom. "If you please. Let me, however, point out to you that you will find it difficult to connect me with the cheques. One of them has been pre- sented by a 6 friend of mine now in Abyssinia another by a friend in Philadelphia; and the third by a friend now in Bombay. That is all I can tell you. Why the cheques were drawn by Mr Brudenel, for what consideration, or the thought of-wiiat promise—I cannot tell you. Ask Mr Brudenel." Very good. This was reasonable. Mr Brudenel had not connected Paul with the cheques lie remembered nothing at all abottt them. Let us," said Tom, see the cheques." They were in the pocket of the bank book. -They were drawn in Mr Brudenel's own handwriting — firm, clear, straight up and down — a handwriting which was difficult to imitate. There could be no doubt at all that they were all drawn and signed by himself. They were made payable to order and were crossed. They were also endorsed. They were therefore paid into some bank, not across the counter. Tom replaced the cheques in the pocket, and put book and all into his own pocket, saying nothing.. Am I," said Mr Brudenel, dropping into a chair, "the sport of the Spirits? Is it their revenge upon me for deserting their Cause ? "On!" Cicely clasped her hands. Why do we make such a ? Why do we doubt ? Why do wo feal'? Paul told us that we must send for the Bank Book. Only let us have a little faith!" „ But Tom laid his hand upon the breast pocket of his coat, in which lay the Bank Book and the cheques. And he tapped that pocket as much as to intimate that Faith, even when taken in large quantities, would not render inquiry unnecessary. CHAPTER X.—THE FIRST INVESTIGATION. It was the morning after. On the morning after a storm, as everybody knows who has been wrecked at sea, the sun always breaks gloriously, the sky is clear, the air is soft and balmy, though the 8e may heave and be still unquiet. The shares wore sold. That was the first thing. It was like escaping in an open boat from a sink- ing ship. But all the money was mysteriously conveyed away into the hands of three unknown persons, one of them certainly the Instructor, but hitherto the unseen Instructor, of Mr Brudenel, and all three stated by Paul to be his own per- sonal friends. This was like the dangerous heav- ing of the boat. No one knew what might happen with these uncertain factors in the problem. That was like having no port within a thousand miles, yet to be lying in the track of vessels. After breakfast, Sibyl followed Tom to his workshop. No one comes here, Dodo," said he, "we can talk as much as we please, undisturbed. My dear Dodo, what shall we do if the money is all one 1" "WHAT SHALL WE DO IF THt- MONEY IS ALL GONE?' "You will make yourself a great name, Tom; and I will wait-Oh and perhaps you will get tired of waiting." My dearest Dodo, if yon look so sweet I shall get tired of waiting immediately." These are the marks which show that what I followed is irrelevant and beneath the dignity of the historian. They are also symbols which silly lovers in the humbler walks, where they are less I eloquent m words than the better educated, use i as tokens to show the depth and intensity of thnir passion, their fidelity and their constancy. Like J all symbols they fall very far short of the reality. J And now, Tom, let us talk soberly. You said you had 'quantities of things to tell me. Quantities, Dodo ? Nona of the," half so important as the things I have just told you as that I 10-" No, Tom not again. Let us proceed to business." 15 Well, then, if one must. We are persuaded, are we not, that this fellow Paul—I wish I didn't like the I)eist-is at the bottom of the whole business ?" <! £ erfectly certain." -fc or some purpose of his own wo are assured that he has decided the whole thilig-bow, we are not yet certain." We are agreed so far, T,)m. I am also per- fectly certain that he means to carry off the whole of this money." 1 "There we differ. I am convinced that his was I the hand that executed and his the head that planned the whole plot. But I am not so sure that he means to stick to this money. It would be a coup too audacious even for a man who sends another to Abyssinia and back, all in a single morning." Titeii wbatoe be do it for?" I don'c quite knew. I've watched Paul ever since he came here, and I've talk-id with him nearly every night in this room, Dodo. I like him, and I believe in him. That is. I believe that he has not come here after n:oney." My dear Tom, they all come after money." He knows that I am watching him and trying to find out how he does it. We always talk on that assumption,v It is understood." » Wao tbiJ finao, Tom, that be should different from the Emanuel Chicks and the rest of them ?" Ie He is an American. Of that I have not the least doubt. Not that such a fact lifts him necessarily above old Chick. Do you know, however, that there is a certain kind of American who craves for notoriety above nil thing-; ? There are plenty over here who wouid give a good deal for notoriety, but with this American kind it is a craze. Paul is one of them. He has betrayed himself to me a hundred times. He cannot bear the thought of being one of the common herd, to live unnoticed, and to be for- gotten as soon as he is dead. He wants distinc- tion." "Oh what distinction ? One of the tribe of impostori who pretend to supernatural powers." Perhaps nature did not give him the qualities which go to make a man successful on the ordinary lines. But then, on tlic- ot:ier.liiii(i, -,lie gave him more than his share of nervous quick- ness, so that he sees at once while ordinary people are only feeling their Way." Well ?" "Then-I have been reading up the subject lately. I used to laugh at it. There is the power called mesmerism, about which so much nonsense has been written. It is a real power, though so little under control that physicians refuse to use it. Paul has that power, and he has developed it. You saw, Sibyl, how he acted upon Cicely and Hetty." Yes. He mesmerised them." "He made them think as he pleased, and he made them see what he willed. It is an uncom- mnn phase of this force, but there are instances of it." Well, Tom ? But all this does not remove him from the tribs of impostor-. How about Prince Menelek and the Abyssinian Sage ?" They are the patter of the profession. Did you ever hear a conjuror talk while he does his tricks? The faster he talkr, the more he diverts your attention, the more astonishing are the things he does." But the papers from India?" They are also part of the patter. The great trick in this case is, I am persuaded, the exercise of mesmeric influence." Oh You see that an immense reputation "may be established by tha performing of miracles. Paul aims at the reputation of supernatural powers. Hence his miracles. The blind girl sees her brother; the photograph of the brother floats down from the ceiling the paper comes all the way from India.' And all thi3 money takes wings and flies away, Tom." You persist in believing the man to be dis- honest, Sibyl. Let me go on. Paul is locked up every morning with your father. Every day lie spends an hour with L--id y Augusta. Most days, I have ascertained, he has an hour or so as well iu Cicely's room. He has acquired influence almost absolute over your father, and over the two girls, while Lady Augusta firmly believes in hira. But ho does not move her to the same extent as the others." Yes, I suppose that is RO," "Wehoarof daily visits to Abyssinia. But mark I Your father forgets every day what he has said and done there. Cicety sees her brother as often as she wishes, by Paul's help. Hetty obeys if he lifts his littie finger. This is a dangerous state of things, Sibyl. In the hands of an unscrupulous person it would be very dangerous. The man has opportunities which no one should be allowed to have." "Yes, and how has he used them ?" He has taken all our money, Sibyl. Of that I am certain. And yet I do not believe be has stolen it." I do, Tom." "Now, I have made one discovery which may help us. I have found out that he knew a moutli ago that Brudenel and Company were shaky." Oh I and he pretends to know nouhing at all about business." We must be tolerant, my dear. When a man goes in for this line of life he must be prepared with a good many Crackers and a Brazen Brow. He is like a novelist." "Everybody knows that a novelist makes up." Yes, but it you stop to think that it is made up, you are lost. Now listen, I have found out one ot the Crackers, which is something. Four weeks ago Lavinia Medlock had a visit from an old gentle- man, all of whose money was in the Company. He had received a private and confidential warning from somebody who had access to the books or could put things together. He had also received an assurance from somebody else in the office that the Company was most flourishing. Then this old gentleinau, bewildered and uncer- tain, went to Lavinia for counsel. He might as well have asked tbe town pump. Lavinia's spirits behaved in the usual ridiculous manner, and she finally gave it up and made out a case for counsel and sent it to Paul, who ordered the old gentleman to sell out instantly." "But how did he know the private affairs of the firm ?" My dear child, I told you that Paul possesses extraordinary faculties. He found out, I suppose, just as I have found out, only much more quickly, that in the present condition of trade, aud considering what the Company have done of late years, the concern could not possibly keep up the high dividends which it has been paying. If I had given my attention six months ago to the subject, I would have convinced your father as well as myself. Very good, that is my discovery. As for the letter of introduction to the manager, it was written—I have seen it-by your father. Nothing could be clearer. The cheques were also signed by him. Moreover, the three persons to whom the cheques were tJayable the Right Honourable Izale Ibn Menelek the Falasha, Mr -probably Geueral-Rupel.t P. Z-iigler, of Phila. delphia, and the respectable Surabjee lvarnsitjee, of Bombay, have all opened accounts in their different banks, each giving the name of your father as a reference of respectability. In each case he has written a letter attesting the respectability of the person. No hesitation was made in opening an account which began with so big a cheque and so sound a reference." All this is very wonderful, Tom. But it does not prove the man's honesty." It does not, I confess. But so far, not a single cheque has been drawn at any of the banks. I have found that out, and it seems to me a very significant circumstance. Well. One more dis- covery I also made. The cheques were paid in personally. The first was brought by an old man infirm and crippled, who could scarcely walk- Paul. The second was brought by a middle-aged man with an immense light brown beard and st)ectacleg-Pittil again. The third was brought by a man in Eastern costume, brown-skinned, with a thick black beard and black eyes. I have Paul's photograph painted and adorned with a turban and a black beard—here it is-the true portrait of Surabjee Kamsitjee—only, unfortu- nately, they do not, remember at the Bank." Tom continued summing up the situation. Well. The position is sufficiently alarming. How could we prove that Paul caused these cheques to be drawn by false pretences? Mesmeric influence is not recognised by the Courts of Law, though undue influence might be urged. You have to prove it. A man apparently iu the full vigour of his intellect orders, in an autograph letter which cannot be disputed, the sale of certain shares. He then with his own hand draws these cheques— the counterfoils being entered with care—and sigus them. The signature cannot be disputed. He then writes three letters, in each of which be vouches for the respectability of a certain person. His oniy answer to these facts is that he forgets all about it; that he does not know these persons. But he cannot tell how he came to do it. Next, how are we to connect Paul with the money? How can it be proved that he was the infirm old man? I confess that it will be difficulty. As for Mr Rupert Zeigler, the beard is all one has to go by, although I am perfectly sure that the beard was on Paul's chin, And as for the gentleinau of Bombay, they remember very little about him, though they own that my picture seems very like. So far, you see, I think the most acute detective would fail to connect Paul with the cheques. It remains to find out, if we can, his method of working upon your father, and on that point I hope to be able to throw light be- fore long." •' And meantime, I suppose," said Sibyl, he will make my father sell bis land and his bouse and everything." It is possible. In such hands anything is possible." "Aud yet you are not alarmed." "Not a bit. I have no fear. Paul is only working up for another miracle. He is arranging his effects, and getting together his little pro- perties. It will be, ho thinks, a truly beautiful miracle only, this time, perhaps, we may have the satisfaction of knowing how be does it. And, perhaps, Dodo," he took her band again, per- haps the discovery, if we do make it, may act as an eye-opener to your father, Imd the Vestal Virgin of the Cause may be allowed to leave the Temple of a fallen god." (2'o be continued.)