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. ~YQL, 33. *" ~ YOBKYILLE, S. C.. WEDNESDAY. OCTOBER SO,. 1886. ISTO. 42. Jwal FIYE MILLION POUNDS. By T. WEMVSS KKID. CHAPTER IX?Continued. A STRANGE VOYAGE. "My God!" he cried, iu an agitated voice, while be advanced and took my hand, "he has not been lying, as I hoped might be the case! And you have been here?a prisoner? ever since we sailed! This is monstrous! Ob, if I had only known! But come?come at once, my poor fellow, and let me give you back your liberty!" "Ah, doctor," I cried, in a tone the feebleness of which startled even myself, "how I have longed for you! I knew that you would save me if you could." "My dear fellow, dont exhaust yourself," he said, still visibly agitated. He placed his arm x round my waist,, and drawing me "gently out of that black prison in which 1 had endured so much, led me into the main saloon of the .* v yacht. The flood of light dazzleJ my eyes; the sound of human voioes after that long spell of silence made all my nerves quiver. There was a mist before my sight, a buzzing In my ears, and a sensation of choking in my throat But Branksome was as skillful as he was gentle and sympathetic. "Lie down here;" and as he spoke he laid me on one of the soft couche3 of the saloon. "Good C4odl how you have suffered! Here, take this," and he almost forced a restorative of tome sort down my throat There was some one standing beside him whom I now recognized as Fosdyke. He had a look of deep pity on his face?nay, it was almost ore of horror and incredulity. I saw the same expression on the face of the captain of the yacht and of a steward, who were also in the saloon. They seemed quite overcome s at the contemplation of the crime of which I had been the victim. I cast my eyes round the beautiful apartment, and to my relief saw that the hateful Fiinter was not among those present Very quickly I recovered my strength and composure so far as to be able to give Branksome and the solicitor an account of all that had happened to me since I received the note inviting me to go on board the yacht "That note?have you got it?" said Branksome, eagerly. He was manifestly resolved to know the whole truth regarding my abduction. I handed it to him. "Ah, it is Flutter's handwriting. But, captain, how come it tlyit you never mentjnnod until thf? mnmincr that Mr. Fenton * bad been on board the yacht on the morning that we sailed'" He turned with a haughty look upon the captain, a plain, matter-offact seaman with a somewhat bloated face. More than ever was I impressed by the sense of power which seemed to distinguish Branksome in all that he said and did. "Why, sir," returned the seaman in manifest embarrassment, "I "was told that the gentleman had left the ship In one of the shore boats, besides?well; to tell the whole truth upon my honor, sir, Mr. Flinter said I was not to mention anything about it to you. He said as how this gentlemap was no longer friends with the master and that you would be displeased if you knew he had been aboard." "Eshawl" cried Branksome, impatiently. ^Boould almost believe that the whole of you , were in a conspiracy aeainst Mr. Fenton, and against me also. The chief steward knew that Flinter was supplying food to Mr. Fenton, and never sai 1 a word to me, simply because he bad allowed himself to believe that the poor fellow was ill, and that for some reason of his own he did not wish his presence on board the ship (o be known. Why, great heavens! he might have been kept a prisoner forever, so far as any of the ship's officers were concerned. I never heard of such stupidity. If I had not accidentally mentioned Mr. Fenton's name to you, captain, half an hour ago, and if you had not in consequence ashed if I was speaking of the gentleman who came aboard the day we sai'el, God knows how long this outrage might have continued." Dr. Branksome spoke with warmth and indignation. The firm mouth was angrily compressed, and his eyes gave emphasis to all he said. I felt that I had found a protector and a champion. At a sign from him the captain and steward left the saloon, and I found myself alone with the doctor and Fosdyke. "I have hardly recovered from the shock causeu uy toe aiscovery 01 your conuuiou, said the former. "Indeed I bad no tb ought when I heard of your being in confinement save instantly to release you. I have not, therefore, had time as yet to get the whole truth out of Flinter as to his extraordinary and abominable behavior. Of course I shall do so, and you may depend upon my calling him sternly to account for an outrage which has brought him within the reach of the criminal law. That is so, I think, Mr. Fosdyke." "Certainly!" replied the lawyer. "I should say that there never was a clearer case of abduction in this world. Mr. Fenton, if he chooses to prosecute, may undoubtedly send Mr. Flinter to jail for a couple of years at least" "May I ask," continued Branksome, "whether you are able to account to yourself in any way for this unheard of procedure?" He looked earnestly at me, and evidently awaited my reply with interest "I have formed a theory," I said, "but I do not know that I ought to name it in the presence of a third person." "Oh, pray consider Fosdyke as being on the same footing as ourselves. So far as you are concerned, he knows everything." There was no mistaking the emphasis with which the lasi word was spoken. "Then I shall tell you exactly what it is that I have thought during my long and weary confinement I believe that Mr. Mauleverer is deeply offended because I have venture 1 to pay my addresses to his niece, and anxious to get me, for a time, at least, out of her way, has arranged this outrage with Flinter." Branksome looked puzzled for a moment It was evident that the idea was one that had not occurred to him before He shook his head slowly. "I cannot believe that the affair has been brought about in the way you describe My poor friend Mauleverer is, I know, in a very curious state of mind at present, and be might do desperate things in one of those fits of desperate passion which have visited him recently, and which, I think, are connected with some obscure disease of the brain. But I should be slow to suppose that he could ever stoop to that which is neither more nor less than actual crime. You have never yourself seen any reason to suppose that he would be guilty of such conduct?" "I? Certainly not. In all my personal relations with Mr. Mauleverer, up to the moment when he wrote the note in which he dismissed me from his house, I have bai nxrafTT ranonn tr? fpal t.hftfc ho U'Ai nun of fha kindest of men. But you know that both you and?and?Daisy have thought him greatly changed of late." "True, true! and it is possible that, after all, he may have forgotten himse.f in the way you supposed; though I still think you are mistaken." "As for Flinter," I continued, "mark my words, doctor! that man is a villain who is capable of anything. I should not care to trust my life in his hands, and if you are wise you will cease all connection with him as soon as possible." "I don't wonder at your expression," replied Branksome, "but at the same time I can hardly think so badly of F.inter as you naturally do. Howover, I shall examine him at once, and make him reveal ihe whole truth, whatever it may be." He was going to leave the saloon for the purpose of seeing the man from whom I had suffered so much, when I stopped him. "Forgive me!" I said, "but I am quite in the dark as to where we are. The yacht has been at sea now for ten days, but lor all I know to the contrary we may still be within a mile of Scarborough." "No,we have not bem standing still," he replied, with a smile. "\\ e are at thif moment nearing the town of Bodo, on the coast of Norway. You have been carried away up into the Arctic regions during your painful sojourn in the duke's punishment celL " He hurriedly left the sa.oou where F03dyke remained with me. The lawyer explained that the trip to Bodo was a business one, connected with one of the numerous European investments of Mauleverer. At the same time he strongly advised me to take legal proceedings against Flinter. "There is not a jury in England tut would give you swinging damage," ho declared; and I quite agreed with him that tha damages were due to me. But e -en as we were talking of this Branksome returned. He was pale and his face wore an expression of the utmost gravity. "My friend," he said, "I grieve to have to say that you were right in your suspicions. Benjamin F1 inter has proved to me by documentary evidence that in treating you in this infamous fashion he was nothing more than the agent, the tool of our revered friend Mauleverer. Alas! it is incomprehensible that a man whose whole life was once so full of goodness should have resorted to lawlessness like this. There is only one explanation of it" He tapped his forehead significantly as he uttered the last words. CHAPTER X. TERRIBLE NEWS. Although I had all along believed this to be the true account of the outrage of which I had bean the victim, it wai not altogether pleasant to have my suspicion confirmed. My thoughts flew instantaneously to Daisy, shut ud in the hall with a man who was either a desperate criminal or insane. "Doctor," I said earnestly, "I have no wish to punish Mr. M uleverer for the cruel trick he has played upon ma Even if there were no other reason for sparing him, the fact that he is Daisy's uncle would be sufficient. But I am terribly anxious about her. Has she no friend with her at Great Lorton? Is it not dangerous for her to remain alone with a man in Mauleverer's state of mind!" "She is not alone," replied Branksome. "I thought I had told you that her old friend and companion, Mrs Cawthorne, who accompanied her to England, tad joined her at the hall Sin was visiting in Derbyshire at the time when Mr. Mauleverer wa, at Scarborough." I remembered to have heard Daisy speak of this lady in the warmest terms of affection. and I felt thankful that there was at least one person near her of her own sex, in whom she could confide. "It is a sad business, I fear," pursued Branksome. "I have not told yon yet of all that happened after yon left us so suddenly. Tell me, my friend: did Mr. Mauleverer show any symptoms of anger or even suspicion while he was with you in the smoking room that night when you stopped at the hallf" "Certainly not He was just as friendly and as courteous in his manner as usual" "That is bad, I fear?very bad. Will you believe that he had already discovered at that tim9 what had taken place in the garden between you and Daisy " <*How could he discover that?" I cried. "Don't you understand? Did you not see Fiinter leave the garden at the same time that we did? No," he said, raising his hand to check my impetuous cry of anger, "it would not be fair to blame Fiinter for what he did then. Remember he is devoted body and sonl to the service of his master. But what I feel is that Mauleverer's concealment of bis anger while he sat with you in the smoking room is very bad, because it looks so much like the cunning of insanity. And that he was mad?really mad?when you left tha hall lam nranarad nnnn mv nath to aver. He would never otherwise have treated Daisy as he did." I shuddered. "Do you mean to say that there has been positive ill-usage?" "Aye, more than enough of it Of course, you understand that the poor child is neither starved nor beaten. But there are moral weapons which are still more cruel and terrible than these." "Oh, how could you leave her to hU mercy?" I cried in an agony of pain. "I cannot understand how any one could have deserted her in such circumstances. Let us go back to her at once.", "My good fellow, keep calm," replied the doctor, on whose face sympathy rather than indignation at my fiery language was expressed. "Do you suppose that if I could have been of any service to the dear child I would have left her as I did? I found, however, that my presence, for various reasons, actually aggravated her sufferings; so I did what I could. I summoned Mrs. Cawthorne to her, and in obedience to Mauleverer's orders I came up here to attend to his affairs." "But you say we are in the Arctic regions; what can be the affair* of Mr. Mauleverer in this part of the tforld?" "Have you not heard of the discovery of gold in Norway? Our friend has a very large interest in what may turn out to be one of the most important properties of its kind in the world." "Where are we at this moment?" I asked. "Within half an hour of Bodo, the place where I am to see the agent of the mines." "You will p it me ashore there," I said, sternly, for 1 was cut to the heart by the thought of Daisy's situation "I must return to England instantly." "I understand your wish; but pray, Mr. Fenton, do not act rashly. You will get back to England, I imagine, quite as soon by sticking to the yacht as by adopting auy other mode of making the journey." "Thanks," I said, ungraciously; "but you can hardly be surprised that I should have no desire to remain the guest of Mr. Mauleverer for a single hour after I have the power of leaving his too hospitable ship." He looked At me gravely. "Well," he remarked, presently, "I shall not attempt to prevent the carrying out of what I feel is a natural impulse. But now, if you will excuse me, I would suggest that you change your attire. I have ascertained that Flintes did not do things by halves. After you had been brought aboard the yacht be sent ashore for your baggage, and I have just had it placed in one of the staterooms." "Upon my wcrd," I said, "I shall remember my obligation-; 10 Mr. Fknter as long as I live, and some day I hope I shall be able to repay them." Branksome made no reply. I was conscious of the fact that, although very indignant at the treatment to which 1 had been subjected, be was not inclined to take any active part in my quarrel with F.inter. That being the case, 1 was resolved not to reveal to him those darker suspicions which I entertained against the villain. If I did so it was just possible that the doctor might let drop some incautious word which would put Fiinter on his guard. That the latter meditated murder?either my murder, or Daisy's, or perchance Mauleverer's?and that he had thought of using poison for the purpose, I was almost certain. 1 had not spent tAn in chlrfvintr f.hnf. ciniafzxv nKon. ter in the medic il work without having formed a theory of iny own regarding it. It was certa nly true that I needed before everything else a change of attire. Although I bad been able to indulge in unlimited ablutions in my cell, I had been compelled to go without any change of clothes for the whole period. Enraged as I was at the daring insolence of F.inter, I could hardly find it in my heart to rebuke this last instance of it when I found myself comfortably clad in clean linen, and in a more suitable att.ro than that which I had recently been wearing. I heard the engines stop and the anchor chains go rattling through the hawsj hole as I was putting the finishing touches to my toilet; and immediately afterward Branksome appeared at the door of the sumptuous little cabin where I had found my property, and invited me to go on deck. I was altogether unprepared for the scene that now presented itself. All around, as it appeared to me at the first glance, were great snow clad mountains, glittering under the cold sunshine in a dazzling robe or white. We were in a landlockel harbor, within half a mile of a little town, the roo's of which were heavily laden with the silvery snow. It was only the water in the harbor, and the winding channel which seemed to lead to the outer sea, that afforded any re ief to the glittering white which covered the whole landscape. It was in very truth an Arctic scene which I beheld. No wind was blowing, and I was surprised to find that the temperature was by no mean* painfully cold. It was delishtful once mora to be hold the outer world. Strange and barren as was that land, I longed for the moment when I should set foot upon it, and find myself free from the accursed vessel which had been my prison. "I am sending ashore for our lett* rs." said Branksome. "If you are really determined to leave the yacht at once you may go with the boat; but if you will allow me to advise you, I should certainly recommend you to stay on board till the letters have b. en received. Who knows what news they may give us of affairs at Great Lorton? Do not let your natural and justifiable anger carry you too far?" I yielded to the temptation, and agreed to remain until the steward had returned from the poste res;ante, and meanwhile I watched the strange and interesting scene before me with a curious eye. There was only one vessel in the little harbor, and all its rigging and spars seemed to be coated with ice. I could see men and women walking on the shore clad in unwieldy garment! of fur; while close at hand thousands of eider duck and other beautiful sea fowl were swimming on the water or nestling on the little black rocks which everywhere rose just above the surface of the sea. "Luncheon is ready, and this keen air must have given you an appetite." It vas Branksome who spoke. I had hoped that I should not have to make another meal on board ths yacht, but I felt that I could not refuse the doctor's invitation without discourtesy, so I went below. Certainly this meal was very different from those of which I had partaken lately. My companions at the table In the magnificent dining saloon were Branksome and Fosdyke, and it was evident that they were resolved to do all they could to entertain mo. My companions were Branksome 'and Fosdyke. It scorned as though they were anxious to make some amends for the shameful treatment I ha I already received on board the Golden H .wk. Fosdyke had an endless store of interesting anecdotes relating to criminal cases and the peculiarities of famous judges and counsel; while Branlcwrno'e tftilf una whflt1. T hurl fniind it fn hA At I Scarborough?penetrated with a wit and an intelligence such as very few men with whom 1 have ever been in contact have possessed. But all conversation was stopped by the arrival of the letter bag. Ridiculous as I knew that it must be to expect anything else, I confess that I was disappointed when I found that there was nothing for me in the bag. i had secretly clung to the hope that Mauleverer might have betrayed my position to Daisy, in which case I felt assured that shi w ould seek some means of communicating with me. But though there was no letter for me, there was n ws from Great LortonHalL My instinct told me which of the letters that I saw Branksome turn over when he received the parcel from the steward was that which concerned me most deeply. Yes, I remembert d the large, square envelope Daisy had used when she wrote to me, and across the table I could even identify my darling's handwriting. I could not take my eyes off Branksome's face as he read this letter?the first which he opened. It was not very long, but evidently it gave the doctor something to reflect upon. He read it a second time, and apparently pondered its contents carefully in his own mind. Suddenly he looked up and caught my eyes fixed intently upon him. "Ahl" be said, with a smile, "I can understand how much you mast wish to see what Daisy has written. Well, there are no secret?, so far as I can see, which need prevent you reading her letter," and he tossed it lightly across to me. It was written in a tone of affection and confidence, and it i elated some of the events which had happened at the hall since Branksome left. As the letter had been written only some ibree or four days after his departure Daisy had not much to telL But to my s r prise and relief the news she told, bo far as it concerned herself, was good. Her une'e. she said, had altered considerably during the last two or three days. The pas-ion and irritability which had marked his tempe.- for some time had al most entirely disappeared. "He is becoming more like bis dear old self, and be no longer treats me in the strange, cruel way in whicb be did at firet O, I do pray so earnestly that tbis happy change may continue. God grant that he may yet give mo back his love, and that the cloud which has arisen between us may pas* away. You know, dear doctor, what I mean when I say that?or rather you know what I do not mean. I shall never prove untrue to Mr. Fenton. I have promised him to be faithful, and though I may never marry at all, I Bhall never marry any but him." My eyes sparkled with delight as I read the dear words. I could tell that both Branksomo and Fosdyke were watching me, but I could not l-estrain the smile of joy that broke upon my l.ps. "Where can ho be?" she continued. "I am surprised that I should not have heard from him again, and sometimes I fear that he is ill, or that some misfortune of another kind has befallen him. When you return to England do befriend me, dear doctor, and try to ascertain where he is. I am forced to trust everything in your hands now. You will not di s-rt us bath?" There was a postcript to the letter which I confess I read with little interest compared with that with, whicj I perused those passages that more immed.au ly concerned myself. It ran as follow.-: "I should have told yon sooner that my uncle has not been very well of lata He has not had the doctor again, however. Ha is taking the medicine the doctor prescribed when he first saw him " I hoped that Branksomo would allow mo to keep this letter, in which there was so much that had the deepest interest for ma But I was disappointed. * When he saw that I had read it through he held out his hand and received it from me. "Now, Mr. Fenton," he said presently, "I am going to reason with you. Daisy's letter proves, I think, that Mr. Mauleverer is recovering his senses. You, who have seen him when in his ordinary state of mind, must know how gentle and amiable he is when free from mental excitement or disturbance. I want to plead with you for his forgiveness. Can you not see that when he is himself again there will be no man living who will be more horrified at the thought of the outrage of which he has made you the victim than he will be?'' I assented to what Branksome said. "Well, then, be generous to him. Remember his close connection with Daisy, and forgive him for his conduct, not merely by word of mouth, but in your inmost heart." "I am quite ready to do that; indeed, I thought I had already done so." "No, there is only one way in which you can show at this moment that you are not unforgiving. That is by remaining on the yacht. Yes, I see that you do not like the suggestion, but before you reject it consider one or two points. First, then, you will unquestionably show a magnanimous spirit which can hardly fail to impress Mr. Mauleverer in your favor when he recovers entirely from the excitement from which he nos lately suirered; next, you win dg complying with what I know under such circumstances would be Daisy's wish. Do you not see in her letter how she recommends you to my protection? Well, I am ready to protect you, so far as I can do so, if you will follow my advice. Lastly, I believe that you will be able to get to England sooner by remaining with us than by any other way." I wavered?and was lost The truth is that I had no grievance against Branksome or Fo3dyke. The former I had learned to like immensely and to trust entirely. The latter was one of the most amusing of companions. It was unploasant, no doubt, to reflect upon the fact that Flinter was one of the company on board the vessel. But he had carefully kept out of my way since my release, and the ship was large enough to permit him to avoid me entirely if he wished to do so. I took the outstretched hand of Branksomo and declared that I would finish my voyage, as I had begun it, on board the Golden Hawk. Three days we lay in the harbor at Bodo. This is not a story of Arctic travel, and therefore I shall not dwell upon the novel and interesting sights which I witnessed during our stay in the little port Neither the novelty nor the interest of the thing, however, prevented my rejoicing openly , when at last we started on our return journey. Thirty-six hours after quitting Bodo we were at anchor in the port of Trondhjem, the ancient capital of Norway. We were not to remain long here; but there was time, Dr. Branksoms told me, to see the grand old cathedral of St Olaf, and the other sights of the place. Accompanied by Branksome and Fosdyke, I went through the wide streets of the quaint old city. The first place we visited was the postoffice. j There was a batch of letters here for Fos dyke and one or wo ior rsranKsome. out , there was no further news from Great Lorton. "Let us go to the Hotel d'Angleterre," said Fosdyke, when we had done our sightseeing at the cathedral "Suppose that we lunch there, and have a look at the newspapers." "By all means," was the simultaneous reply of Branksome and myself; and before long we were seated in the cosily-furnished i little salon of that well-known hotel. The | friendly waiter brought the latest copy of ; The Times?six days old?to us. and Brank- | some, after courteously offering It to me, began to peruse it with the hungry avidity of a man who has long been ihut off from news of the outer world. Fosdyke and 1 turned over the old illustrated papers which littered the table, and the well-thumbed register of visitors from all parts of the world, while ever and anon Branksome gave us the particulars of some incident of interest recorded in the journal Suddenly a cry of horror startled me out of the placid frame of mind in which I had been awaiting my luncheon. It was Branksome who had uttered i. I looked up and saw him with a white, panic-stricken face, holding the newspaper towards Fosdyke, his hand trembling with emotion. He was apparently incapable of speecL "In heaven's name, what is the matter, Branksome? Are you ill?" cried the lawyer. "Oh, my God! my God I" he groaned, "read it! read it for yourself. Was there ever anything so dreadful in ihis world?" Fosdyke did not seem to yndcrstand. I snatched the paper from Branksome's fingers, and after a moment's delay I found the dreadful news which had moved him so deeply. This was the paragraph which I read: "Sudden Death.?Our Lorton correspondent telegraphs to us to say that a profound sensation has be en caused throughout the district by the news of the sudden death of Mr. George Mauleverer, the Australian millionaire, whose purchase of the Great Lorton estate was recently announced in our U pn?ma +Via+. \ft? Monlovornr wna WlUUiUSl ? BW?U3 VUftW Mill M4M.V.V.V. found dead in his bed yesterday morning, and the appearances indicate that ho died during a lit of epilepsy, to which it is rumored that he was subject. It is not thought likely that any inquest will be held. Mr. Mauleverer had only recently settled in England, his vast fortune having bean accumulated in Australia, where he was well known as the wealthiest of the squatter aristocracy. He leaves behind him a niece who resided with him at Great Lor.on HalL Mr. Mauleverer during the short period of his residence on his Yorkshire estate had endeared himself to his tenantry by his liberality and kindlines. Ho had, however, been in ailing health almost ever since his arrival in England. Nothing is known as yet as to the disposition of his immense wealth." We sat utterly paralyzed by the sudden blow that had thus fallen upon us. Even I, although I bad no great reason to feel drawn towards Mauleverer, was stunned by the greatness anl unexpectedness of this calamity. Fosdyke was manifestly agitated and incredu ous, unable to realiza what it was that had happened. As for Branksome, his faqe was ghastly. All the brightness had fuded out of it, and he sat with drawn features, pallid lips and eyes wide open, staring into space. After that muffled cry of horror he had seemed to be literally incapable of >peich. "I don't lelieve it!'' cried Fosdyke at last. "It is some d 1 infernal lie of the newspapers. Eh, Branksome, don't you think so, too/ For God's sake, man, don't let this upset you! I'll telegraph at once." He started up as though about to leave the room lor that purpose. Branksome fe.bly raised his hand to stay him. "Don't go," he said almost in a whisper, "for th? Jove of heaven do not leave me yet" There was something in his tone that made me feel that I was de tropi I had no right, i saw, 10 intrude upon such grief and "horror as his. I got up qu etly and stole out of the room 1 went out into the street, where the snow was lying, and walked up and down : bareheaded, regardless of the cold, trying to j collect my thoughts and realize what it was that had happened. And my first clear idea was one of which at the time I felt ashamed, of which I am | even more ashamed now after the lapse of | years. I forgot all about Mauleverer him- I sen ana only graspea toe taea inac at iasc the obstacle which stood between Daisy and myself had been 1 emoved. There was nothing now to prevent our marriage. Nothing? Yos. I remembered myself. There was the dork shadow of Mauleverer's gold. Even now?from his grave I felt well assured that with his dead hand he would strive to keep us asunder. The thought of Daisy had quickened my intellect, and I saw that there was at least one step which I ought to take. I went back to the litt'e room where I had left Branksome and Fosdyke. I found them engaged in conversation of the most eirnest description, carried on in those low tones which, when the shadow of bereavement lies heavy on a man. ho naturally adopts. They looked up when I entered as though they scarcely relished my intrusion. Fosdyke at all events could scarcely conceal his impatience. I made a liastv apology, and seizing my coat and hat left the 1 oom. Five minutes later I was in the telegraph office writing a message to my darling, in which I expressed my sorrow a', hearing the news of her bereavement, and my hope that within a few days we might meet again. As I waite 1 while the clerk checked the message, my thourhts were naturally busy with that solemn event, which had in a moment robbed Mauleveror of all his wealth and reduced him to the common level of our poor morta'ity. He had been dead now just a week. Probubly this was the day of his funeral. My imagination took wings across the stonn-to <?ed Northern sea, and I saw in fancy the funeral procession starting from that gloomy old hall among the Yorkshire voids, with one slight girlish figure, draped in black, following the coffin of the man at whose riches all the world had wondered. "0 my darling," I cried in my heart, "why am I not with you to belt you to bear your sorrow, and to drive away that sense of loneliness which is never felt so keenly as by the side of an open grave?" And then, like a flash of lightning, there darted through my brain the remembrance of the words spoken to me by Gregson in the railway carriage, and all of the sinister portents that had attended my visit to the hall. Up to that moment I had regarded the rich man's death as anv othnr person would have done who had read the paragraph in The Time-. But now. in an instant, I saw it all Fool that I was, not to huve seen it soonorl Mauleverer had been murdered! Murderod! but how and by whom? One man there was whom I suspected above all others. But he was here, moro than a thousand miles from the spot where the evil deed had been done. Even if I could have been told by a revelation from heaven that Flinter had slain Mauleverer, I should have had to acknowledge that the thing was impossible. The arm of the assassin may be long; but it cannot reach across hundreds of leagues of stormy sea in order to strike its coward's blow. Yet while I reflected on all the perplexing contradictory facts, my conviction that Flinter was guilty grew and grew, until it took possession of my whole frame, and quite suddenly the explanation of the difficulty which had troubled me became clear to my mind. He had an accomplice?some one wnom ne naa leic dohind hirn at Great Lorlon and through whom he had slain the man he professed to love with so do^-like a fidelity. "Ah! Mr. Flinter," I said to myself, with a bitter smile on my lips, "you little thought what a pitfall you were digging for yourself when you lured me on board the Golden Hawk. If 1 had never been your prisoner, I should never have been able to confound you as I am about to do." I took up one of the blank telegraph forms on the table of the little office, and wrote hurriedly as follows: Chief Constable, Barton, Yorkshire: ' If Mauleveror's symptoms apparently those of epilepsy, I strongly urge post-mortem j examination. Have grave reason to suspect ! foul play. Return to England immediately. Fenton, yacht Golden Hawk. When in the dark after days I recalled the moment when I penned the lines which were destined to influence in so terrible a manner .not only my own life, but the lives of so many other persons, and when in n^y agony I cried aloud to God for forgiveness for the evil I had wrought unwittingly, I never failed to remember one fact. That was, that I seemed to have written that fatal message under the inspiration of some will outside mv own. It was done in an instant. before I had even attempted to weigh the act itself or its possible consequences; and I was once more under the roof of the Hotel d'Angleterre before I fully realized the step which I had taken. There is no need to dwell upon our hurried departure from Trondhjem. Branksome had recovered his calmness and self-possession before we sailed that evening, but it was evident that the terrible event of which we had heard so unexpectedly filled him both with sorrow and anxiety. He was very friendly in his manner to me; but neither ho nor Fosdyke was now disposed to lighten the passing boars with the gay sall'es of talk and story which had been so frequent before. They spent the greater part of every day deep in consultation with each other in Branksome's private state room, and I soon found that Flinter was not unfrequently admitted to their confidence. We had been three days at sea. In another four-and-twenty hours we ought to be at Hull, and in a few hours more I would see Daisy. I was counting those hours as I paced the deck after dinner under the frosty starlit sky, when I was told by one of the stewards that Dr. Branksome wished to speak to me at once. I found him in the handsome cabin which was nominally set apart for the private use of the owner of the ship. To my surprise Fnnter was with him as well a? Fo^dyke. I was struck by the extreme gravity of Branksome's face when I entered the room. Fosdyke seemed to be worried and nervous; while as for Flinter, he received me with a scowl of hatred that he- made not the slightest attempt to conceal. "Mr. Fenton," said Branksome, who was standing and whose stately figure seemed to 1 fill the whole cabin, "it has just come to my knowledge, within the last hour, and by the purest accident, that you dispatched a message by telegraph from Trondbjem, after bearing the terrible news of Mr. Mauleverer's death. 1 am very sorry to take what you may possibly regard as a liberty; but I have to ask you if you will kindly iuform me concerning the nature of that message and the person to whom it was addressed." 1 colored up and looked around In some embarrassment Branksome's dark eyes were bent upon me in a gaze which, to say the least, was singularly grave and almost stern, while Fosdyke, impatiently biting his finger nail--, seemed bursting with anxiety to hear my answer. I did not look at Flinter: but I knew well enough the spirit of which he was possessed. For a moment I hesitated, and thought of declining to reply to the question. But I felt that I had no right, after the way in which I had been treated by Branksome, to deal with him otherwise than frankly. "I telegraphed, Dr. Branksome, to Miss Stancliffe. It was a simple message of sympathy and an intimation that I hoped to see her before long." Fosdyke continued to gnaw his finger nails restlesslv. Dr. Branksome's face did not change by a single hair's breadth. "And that was the only message you sent!" he said, gravely. "No, sir, it was not the only message," I answered, annoyed and embarrassed, yet feeling that my best plan was to tell everything. "I sent another message to the chief constable at Barton to tell him that I suspected that Mr. Mauleverer had been poisoned." CHAPTER XL I MEET DAISY ONCE MORE. There was a hoarse cry of anger?a growl such as might have broken from the throat of a wild beast?and almost instantaneously I found myself borne down to the floor, where I lay with Fiinter's hands grasping my throat and hLs knees firmly planted on my body. I had hardly realized my position, however, when I saw Brnnksome throw himself upon the ruffian. Fosdyke also came to my assistance, and after a short, sharp struggle I was released from a grasp which, ViorJ linnn s*rkn finilA'l mil^h lonorpr mfchfc have put a premature end to my adventures. Branksome's indignation against Flinter was great; but it was not to be compared w'ith that which Flinter evidently entertained against me. For the moment he seemed altogether to have lost his self-control, and I verily believe that if. Branksome and Fosdyke had not been on the alert, ho would there and then have murdered me b ;fore their eyes. "Curse you! curse you!" he cried, shaking "Cicr.se you! Curse you.n' he cried * ? ? *?* *i-- - ?i.n ms cuneueu ust ui? mi,*, muiic pu^nn/u vr*. most frightful character blazed from his j evil eyes. ''May I be lost forever if 1 don't i pay you for this!" There is no need to inflict upon my readers the horrible imprecation* he launched against me, or the foul epithels he applied to me. For some minutes Branksome and Fos- i dyke continued to remonstrate with him unavailingly. At .a-t, however, he lapsed into t a state of sullen calm, though his bloodshot ; eyes, his swollen veins, and the spumy froth j that gathered at the angles of his mouth j showed that he was still under the influence j of the frenzied excitement which had led ! him to attack me. So soon as Branksoino was able to leave \ Fosdyke in sole charge of the rufflan he turned upon me, and in language, the stern- j ness of which astonished me, he said: "You see the effect your statement has I bad upon this man. Probably you see in it some confirmation of the extraordinary sus- i picions you appear to entertain regarding ! him. I know not and I carj not whether it is so; but this I must tell you, Mr. Fenton, that to your dying day you will regard with horror and remorse the act to which you have just confessed." "What do you mean by such a statement? j Sureiy I had a right " "Enough, enough, sir!" he cried in a voice which I hardly recogniz?d as his. "Excuse my inability to talk to you in conventional nnoa nr turmi But I cannot tandv words i with you at present God in His mercy 1 grant that something may yet happen to avert the evil which it is but too certain that 1 you have done by your inexcusable conduct" | I tr;ed to justify myself, but it was in vain. Feeling more like a culprit than I had ever done in my life before, I left the cabin and went to my own state room. I am not a coward, but I confess that I passed an un- ; easy night, knowing that Flinter was on board the yacht. At every moment I expected to hear his footstep by the side of my berth, and to feel his hands upon my throat. Neither Branksome nor Fosdyke had much ; to say to me next day. Fosdyke's nervousness was unmistakable, and when I spoke to him he answered in monosyllables. Brank- I some was grave and preoccupied. His man- ' ner to me was courteous, but decidedly cold. When afternoon fell we were running up tho Humber, over which a light November fog hung, adding to one's depression of spirits, in another hour I knew that I \ \ should be free from the yacht. I could not bear the thought of parting on unfriendly terms from Braftcson-" I had fallen completely under the sw.iy of the man's character. and had recognized that fascination to which Daisy and all others who knew him well had 'iiccumbed before me. It was almost hui. b : that I approached him now, and aske > uim to pardon mo if I had been guilty of any indiscretion in sending the tele- ( grams from Trondhjem. He looked at me for a moment with that searching, fearless gnzj which was characteristic of the man. Then he spoke: "It is I who ought to ask you to pardon 1 me, Mr. Fenton. I undoubtedly was guil y of a breach of good manners in speaking to you as I did last night. But I was agitated < to on o-srfortf. of whif>h vmi r??n If now t?ofh ing. You ask me whether you were guilty of an indiscretion in sending that message to the Barton police. Ah! sir, I dare not hint even to you the terrible suspicion that , fills my mind, and that has intensified a hundred-fold my grief at the death of my benefactor. If you knew the feeling of apprehension with which I am awaiting our arrival in port, and the news we may find there, you will not wonder that I lost control of myself last night I can only say now, as I said than, God grant that my worst fears as to the possible consequences of your act may not be verified!" What did his strong language mean? It was evident that he was resolved to leave events to interpret it Full of trouble and perplexity, 1 waited with impatience for the moment when we should arrive in port As we slackened speed off the entrance to thedocksl sawaboat, containing the customs and other officials of the port putting out to meet us. In the prow of the bo it was a telegraph messenger. Branksome, Fosdyke and I stood side by side, leaning over the bulwarks of the yacht and awaiting the approach of the little craft There was none of that joyous excitement which usually prevails on board a vessel entering port after a voyaga Our tongues were silent and our faces showed too clearly the anxiety that possessed our minds. Above us the leaden cloud of fog hung like a pall. Its desolation and gloom seemed to have taken possession of our hearts. We heard the measured beat of the oars as the boat drew near, and we could see the features of the men occupying it To me they seemed to wear an air of stern preoccupation. It was only the innocent little telegraph boy in the prow of the boat who seemed altogether careless and unconcerned; and yet, too, probably, he was the messenger oi aoom, wuoso coming we ureaueu. The gangway had been lowered and the customs and health officers came quickly aboard, saluting us as they did so. They were followed immediately by the telegraph messenger. "Mr. Fenton here?" I snatched from his hand the envelope he held towards me and without waiting to see if he had any message for Branksoma and Fosdyke I turned away to read that addressed to myself. It was from the chief constable at Barton and was brief. "Thanks for message. Shall be glad of personal interview at earliest convenience." I felt relieved. After all there was nothing very terrible in this dispatch, nothing to justify the dark forebodings of B rank some. Yet with the feeling of relief was mingled a sense of disappointment. I had hoped that possibly I might have received a message from Daisy. I turned to look for Branksome but could see nothing either of him or Fosdyke. At that moment one of the persons who had boarded us in the customs boat came up to me and entered into conversation. "Porhnm von would like to see the even Ing paper, sir. I got it just as we left the landing stage. You will find in it the latest news about the Great Lorton mystery. But, by the way," he continued, as though a sudden light had broken upon his mind, "the Golden Hawk was the name of Mr. Mauleverer'a yacht, was it not? Is it possible that you are a friend of his? Have you heard ?" In an agony of impatience I interrupted him, and asked him to allow me to look at the newspaper. "You will see the latest telegram there," he said, indicating a particular spot, as I took the sheet into my hands. 1 saw at once that "the Great Lorton mystery" was the leading feature of the issue. It filled a column of the paper?a column udorned with big type and striking head lines. I carefully ran my eye downwards, not taking in the sense of the words I read, until I came to the place indicated by the man, and found the following: "LATEST INTELLIGENCE. "arrest on suspicion. "Barton, Friday morning. "This morning Mr. Eastmead, chief constable of BartoD, acting on information received, proceeded to Great Lorton Hall, and there arrested Miss Daisy StanclifTe, niece of Mr. Mauleverer, on suspicion of being concerned in his mur ler. Miss StanclifTe, it will be remembered, was the only known relative of th3 deceased, and attended his funeral on Monday as chief mourner. She is said to b? a young Indy of remarkably prepossessing appear.'.net. It is rumored that evidence of a very startling kind will be laid before the magistrates in support of the chnrgo against her. The prisoner will be brought before a special sessions at Barton this afternoon; but it is understood that on this occasion only formal evidence will bo tendered." 1 read it all The words burned themselves into my brain never to be effaced; and then?I suddenly grew sick and cold, the objects nbout me seemed to be spinning round, and immediately all was blank. For the first t m? in my life I had fainted. As I j lowly recovered consciousness, Brnnksome s voice was the first that I heard. "Ho is coming round. Take him below." in oueaience 10 ms curi tuuuumiu, i ?u? carried down to the main saloon and laid upon a sofa. In a moment Branksome followe 1 me. He waved aside the sailors who had attended me. "Well." he said, "you understand now, I suppose!" His face was almost as white as I felt that mine was. "No; I understand nothing," I answered in faint tones. "Do you not see, Fenton," he said, in a hurried whisper, "what it is that you have done! You have put an idea in the heads of those fools at Barton and the consequence is the arrest of Daisy." "You cannot believe that," I said, with more energy. "Surely you do not charge me with having caused her arrest? It is some hideous mistake on the part of these clum-y Yorkshire policemen. We shall have it put right immediately. I shall go to Barton this evening, and see about it." "My dear young friend," said Branksome, speaking in measured tone* and a softened voice, "your eyes are closed to the truth. If you had r.ever hinted at such a thing as murder, Daisy would never had been suspected. But you have lighted the match, and you cannot now prevent the explosion." I shrank back from him in horror. "Why, you speak as though she might be guilty." He shook his head slowly, mournfully. "Did I not tell you that I feared for the consequences when a girl like Daisy, proud, passionate, sensitive, is subjected to such persecutions as those which she had to suffer at Mauleverer's hands?" "But they were over! Do you not remember the letter you had from her at Bodo? Besides, the thing is ridiculous. Daisy a murderess 1 I shall believe that you and I are parricides sooner than suspect such a thing." "Yes," he said, thoughtfully, "I knew I should shock you. But for Daisy s sake, as well as yours; it is better that you should know the worst. You and I have got to save that poor girl, for remember it is you who have brought her into periL" I was overwhelmed with a grief such as I had never known befora Very hurriedly we made arrangements as to the future, for I felt that we must work together if anything was to be dona He meant, be said, to go to Great Lor ton the next morning. For my part I was thankful when 1 landed to find that there was a train by means of which I could reach Barton that night. Barton is a pleasant agricultural town, boasting a big market place, where once a week the cattle from the surrounding district are offered for sale, a good hotel, an old church, a jail and a sessions house. It was ten o'clock at night when I reacbod the end of my journey. I hurried to the hotel and deposited my portmanteau, and then I took the porter who had carried it as my guide to the police sta ion. [TO BK CONTINUED NEXQVKEK.) /Z?~Some very quiet young ladies do 1 up their hair with a bang. miscellaneous Heading. RIOTING IN BELFAST. For some months past the Irish city of Belfast, usually the most hustling and prosperous of Irish towns, has been in a condition of disorder, which has resulted, now and again, in ferocious and bloody riots. The slightest pretext seems to have been the signal for the gathering of mobs, collisions between the people and'with the police, the sacking and burning of buildings, and the killing of men, women and children. The latest outburst of this spirit of violence was caused by the arrest of two drunken men for fighting in the streets. This incident clearly shows to whatan ex LMtecl pitcii the leenng ol the hostile parties in Belfast has attained. The causes of this state of things are, unhappily, easily found. They exist in the bitter animosity with which the two branches of the Irish race regard each other. They arise from a hostility which is both religious and political. Belfast is the capital and centre of that part of the Irish population which is Protestant, is descended from English and Scottish settlers, and is resolved to retain English rule in Ireland. It is the chief city of the province of Ulster, and Ulster is the stronghold of those who have been especially fostered and favored by England, and who are utterly opposed to the establishment of an Irish Parliament. This Protestant and "loyal" section of the Irish is represented by the famous "Orange" society. The Orangemen derive their title from William, Prince of Orange and King of England, who was the Protestant champion against the Catholic James the Second, two centuries ago. They form a secret society, which has its lodges throughout northern Ireland. The objects of the Orange society are, to maintain the ascendency of England in Ireland, to oppose the Catholic majority, and to use every effort to prevent the adoption of Home Rule. Belfast is the headquarters of the Orangemen, and this is why thecity has long been so turbulent. For, in numbers, the Protestants and Catholics in Belfast are nearly equal. Each party is intensely bitter in its feelings towards the* other ; and on the occasion of the political holidays, the processions of each are often attacked by the other. If the Catholics have a procession on St. Patri/.L-'u Hut* ? mnh nf Dninffpmpn is very apt to assail it with stones, and even pistols; and the same thing is almost certain to occur if the Orangemen parade on the anniversary of the battle of tne Boyne. There can be no doubt that the bloody riots which haye ocourred in Belfast, at intervals, during the past live or six months, have arisen from the intense feeling caused by the proposition of Mr. Gladstone to grant Home Rule to Ireland. This scheme aroused the fears of the Orangemen, and lifted high the hopes of the Catholics. The result was that their mutual hostility was intensified, and led to a state of anarchy and violence which the authorities of the law have not yet been able to suppress. Race, religious and political hatred, is thus responsible for the terrible condition of things which exists in Belfast. This hatred is hereditary and ancient, beginning with the period when the English crown forced English settlers upon Irish soil. ' It is hard to see how it can be softened or removed. The Orangemen fear that if Ireland had her own Parliament, that Parliament would persecute the Protestants of the Xorth. On the other hand, the Catholic majority, as it is to-day, is profoundly disaffected to English rule. It is a pity that time has done so little to soften and wear away a race hostility which is rancorous in its intensity, a^d barbarous in its action. A HOME OF YOUR OWN. One of the very first things that a young married couple should think of, is the getting of a home of their own ; a house which is theirs "to have and to hold" for lifetime, if possible; one that shall be to their children a place around which all their youthful memories gather, and bring a glow to their hearts, 110 matter what may come to them in after years; one in which each room will, in process of time, become endeared through its associations. It may seem far away in the distance at first, but persistent thought and effort in that direction will bring it to pass in time, and much sooner than at first seemed probable. ^Necessity or expediency may make renting the only thing to do for a cancan - t.:;f I ufill nrlhere to the ODinion that it is the truest economy and highest wisdom to get a home of your own at the earliest moment that you can make it practicable. These peripatetic people have rarely much of value that they can call their own, for in the very nature of things they could not have. The family lack the sense of permanency in regard to a home which is always so desirable, and especially when people are upon the down hill side of life. While young and vigorous, with brains busy with what is going on in the world, its absence is not felt so much, but the day must come when the interests will be gradually withdrawn with the waning strength from purely outside matters and centre within the home, and it is ihen that the heart longs for and is best satisfied with what Jong habit has made dear and familiar. Another thing is true. Your expenditures are much more likely to be carefully looked after if you have such an object in view. I know a couple who boarded for some years after their marriage, then rented a house and went to housekeeping. They lived up to every cent of their income, though never running in debt. Finally they concluded to have a home of their own, and took advantage of the installment plan; that is, they had a house built for them by persons who make that sort of thing their business, gave a mortgage upon it to secure the builder, and paid for it in monthly installments. The undertaking caused a complete change in their way of living. Without being niggardly, they looked closely after expenses, and found that they could enjoy life just as well as ever, and even better, because they had a definite object in view which absorbed their thoughts, and for which they were planning lrom (lay 10 ciay. They go without many little luxuries to which they were accustomed, but they do not feel the deprivation in the comfort they take in what is to be really a home, not just simply a temporary place to live in?Toledo Blade. An Odd Bit of Irish History.?We are indebted to the English Illustrated Magazine for the following odd bit of Irish history. In 1558?the last year of the reign of Queen Mary?Dr. Henry Cole, the Dean of St. Paul's, was sent to Chester on a special commission from the Queen to prosecute the heritics of Ireland, who were beginning to increase alarmingly. The hostelry at which he stopped was then kept by a Mrs. Mottershead, a singular name that still survives in the street. The Mayor of Chester called at the inn to pay his respects to the Dean, and Mrs. Mottershead overhead the Dean say exultingly that he carried that which would "lash all the heretics in Ireland," and then he took out a leather box and showed it exultingly to his worship. Now, the landlady had a brother in Dublin, and, anxious for his safety, she took occasion during the night to abstract the commission from the leather box and substitute a pack of cards tied together by a thread, with the knave of clubs uppermost. On his arrival at Dublin he presented his box to the Lord Deputy and the Privy Council, who were surprised to X v find such an authority, and at once dismissed him. He returned to London to retrieve his loss, but on his arrival he learned that his royal mistress was dead, and Elizabeth granted Mrs. Mottershead a pension of .?40 a year for the part she had taken in the transaction, a sum that would at least represent $200 of our money. S EN S1TIV F~ A NIM A LS. A gentleman who recently made a trip on horseback through the mountain region of the West, evidently made an observation which was to him a discovery. In writing an account of his journey, he says: "The behavior of our saddle horses was very amusing, and showed the prairie life plainly. The moment they felt the cold storm they turned their backs around toward it and dropped their heads, and took no little urging to induce them to proceed, as at each gust they would whirl their tails toward it as if turned by a crank." The writer seems to have thought the conduct of his horses peculiar to those bred upon the prairies. It was, however, just what any horses would do under the circumstances, no thatter from what part of the world they were brought. It should be known to all drivers of horses with what reluctance these animals face a storm or even a chilling wind. It may be quite reasonable to drive before the wind on a stormy day, when it would be positively cruel to go over the road in the opposite direction. It is convenient to know this habit of the horse in case an animal has strayed away during a storm or a high wind. It will be found to havegone in the direction of the wind. The habit of the sheep is just the contrary. This animal steadily faces the storm, holds its head well up, and is inclined to move forward. No domestic animals give their keepers so much trouble by wandering off in stormy and boisterous weather as do sheep; but the shepherds are saved much of the trouble they might have in finding theirflocksby makingsearch in a direction against the wind. This instinctive action of horses and sheep is common to all breeds, and is inherited from their undomesticated progenitors. Whatever may have been the origin of these habits, we can turn a knowledge of the facts to good account in giving our horses more rational care and treatment.? Youth1* Companion. Lucky Hits.?It would be a stupid misreading of events to say that the famous duel to which David owed his rapid rise was a single lucky hit?a chance shot, in which success redeemed what would otherwise have been a foolhardy adventure. Men rarely owe their success in life to chance shots of any kind. But they often do take their start from some single act which serves to disclose what manner of men they are, and to foretell to the sagacious what their career must prove. It was not in reality the slinger's skill, which aimed cool and fair at the giant's forehead, when an older hand might have swerved for fear?not that alone which revived the decaying ardor of Israel, bound Jonathan to his friend in life-long admiration, and made David the hero of' the war. He became the man he was just because he carried this same devout reliance upon an arm unseen into all his affairs, acted ever as in Jehovah's sight, and knew himself to be by day and night, beneath' Divine protection. The qualities which made him the conqueror of Goliath were the qualities which made him the founder of the Hebrew empire, and the type as well as ancestor of the Messiah. ? ? Some Remarkable Features.?It is a remarkable but invariable feature of mild earthquake shock that they are felt by some persons and not by others in the same situation. This is true of persons i who are on the same floor of the same building. And-it is sometimes the case that persons in the top of a high building have let the shaking pass unnoticed, while persons in the lower stories of the same building have rushed out of their rooms in terror. It would be interesting to know whether some persons are constitutionally more sensitive to earthquakes than others, and whether quick observation of seismic disturbance is a matter of intelligence or merely of the nerves?New Haven News. ? Wonders of tle world.?ine seven . wonders of the world in ancient times were the Pyramids of Egypt, the Pharos of Alexandria, the walls and hanging gardens of Babylon, the temple of Diana, the statue of the Olympian Jupiter, the mausoleum of Artemisia, and the Colussus at Rhodes. The seven wonders of the world in modern times are the printing press, the steam engine, the spinning jenny, the telephone, the phonograph, telegraph and electric light. The so-called "seven wonders" of the ancients were mere trifles compared with those of the present time. The whole put together would sink into insignificance could their builders have seen a lightning express train at full speed. B@F Hidden in the swampeof Livingston parish, Louisiana, is a hamlet with a pop ulation of oOO souls, where until fifteen years ago not a word of English was spoken or understood. It is a settlement of Acadians who displaced the Spanish founders of the village, and to-day are living in contentment far from any other habitation. The people >are engaged in the lumber business, and despite the swampy and malarial condition of the surrounding country, are a hardy and long-lived race. The younger villagers now use English to a greater degree among themselves, but their elders cling to their mother tongue. Though isolated, the settlement is hospitable and a pleasant spot to visit. BkaT A story comes from Mexico that the natives on the coast inoculate themselves with the virus of adders, cobras and rattlesnakes, and persons who have been thus vaccinated are rendered forever proof against injury from any bite or sting. An eruption immediately breaks out, accompanied by fever and much swelling of the body, ai'ter which the skin gradually flakes off" in scales, as in leprosy. It is said that people who have been vaccinated in this manner can not only handle the most poisonous serpents with impunity, but the bite of these persons themselves is as fatal as that of the snake whose virus has been transferred into their blood. ? ? #aTlf it were possible to rise above the atmosphere which surrounds the earth, we should see nothing but an intense and sharply defined ball of fire, while everything else would be wrapped in total darkness. There could be no diffusion of light without an atmosphere or some similar medium for it to act upon ; but if the air about us extended to a height of seven hundred miles, the rays of the sun could not penetrate it and we would be left in darkness. At the depth of seven hundred feet in the ocean the light ceases altogethUolf n KoAfKorl in CI , UUC-imil ul llic ucuj^ auov/i ia.u iu passing through only seven feet of the purest water. ?>?? The mountain lions of Montana are large and ferocious and they frequently attack full-grown steers. The territory offers $8 for every scalp, and the cow-boys make quite a business of hunting them in the winter. Lions are often killed measuring nine feet from tip to tip, and weighing 200 to 300 pounds. Many more measuring from ten to eleven feet are frequently bagged, and occasionally a monster reaching twelve feet. The conductor is a ladies' man. He is always after the fare. 'tr >