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 LIKE AND UNLIKE. /â- -. ^wHfe m m By M. B. BRADDON, AUTHOB o» "Ladt AuDijrr's Seobbt," "WYLuatD'a 'Wjosd," iETa.,Esgp., CHAPTER XIV.â€" Tbtte to Each Otheb. The police had not been idle daring the day of the inqnest, or daring that day on which Mr, Belfield wu making his first ex- periment in the art of window-cleanini;. Theasnal machinery had been At work, tmd with the ainal resalt of ilare daring tiie first forty- eight hoars of porsait. The firt few days in such a hont are generally blank. Markham, the detective, had not gone back to London atter the inqnest. He re- lied on sabordinate intelligence, assisted by photography, to track the snspeoted criminal. His own work he fell lay in the neighborhood of Chadford, where the final links in the chain of evidence were to be pat together. Lord St. Anstell was still at the Bridee Hotel, keeping very qaiet, bat ready at all seasons to confer with Mr. Markham. Six Adrian spent the first day of his im- prisonment in a Ustlesss indifierence as re- garded himself or hu own convenience, bat in keenest anxiety aboat his brother. He had Mr.Gresham, the solicitor, with him upon the evening of his^ arrest and talked over the evidence given at the inquest with that gentleman, bat committed himself to no statement or admission whatever. " Yon have to de*l with the evidence as it stands, Oresham," he said. " I admit no- thing aboat myself or my brother. " "I am sorry to say, Sir Adrian, that an^ less yoa can disprove John Grange's state- ment, yoa tacitly admit yoorself gailty of perjary." "I am not in a position, at present,to dis- prove Grange's statement; but I think I have as good a right to be believed as he has." "On any indifferent matter, yoar word would doubtless be taken in preference to his but on a question of life and death for your brother, the statament of any disin- terested witaess would be preferred to yours." "What am I to do in my brother's interest? I do not care about myself." "In both yoar interests we most try to secnre Distin. I will telegraph to him directly the office is open to-morrow morn- ing. ' Mr. Distin's fame as a criminal lawyer was not unknown to Sir Adrian Belfield, and it seemed to him well that in this strug- gle with Fate he should have the best assu- tance that training and hereditary instinct could afford. Distin had been suckled upon crimiaal law, and cradled in the Old Biiley. No doubt Distin was the man. It was a shock to Sir Adrian, therefore, when Mr. Gresham came into his room next morning â€" soon after the coffee and hot rolls which an obsequious official had brought over from the Ring of Bells^-carrying Mr. Distin's reply telegram " Sorry I cannot accept your retainer. Am already engaged by Colonel Deverili." " This is unlucky for us. Sir Adrian. It is bad enough not to Ihave Distin with uis but it is worse to have him against as." " Yoa can get some one else, I suppose, if you are not strone enough yourself to pro- tect our interests. ' " I am not a criminal lawyer. Sir Adrian but perhaps my regard for your family may stand in the place of experience at the Old Bailey. 1 am not afraid to undertake your defence if you will trust me." '• I would rather trust you than any other member of your profession." The following day was Sunday, a dismal Sabbath for Adrian, who had so rarely been absent from his place in the old parish church, and whose Sundays had been verily days of rest days devoted to kindly visit- ings among the old and infirm, to seriooR read ing and quite thought. A gloom had over- shadowed all his days »ince bis brother's crime, but Sunday had been not the less a day apart, a time of prayer and meditation, remorseful memory of the hapless dead, and intercession for the sinner. This day he spent with his mother sitting beside him, in mournful silence, or in silent prayer, for the most part. Tney sat togeth- er through the dull wintry day, taking very little heed of time â€" only noting the passing of the hours by the church bells, soundint; with a heavy monotony from the old Norman tower near at handâ€" the fine old square tower with its crocketted finish, rising high above old tiled gable ends, clustering on the summit of the hilly street. More distant bells came with a softer sound from a church on the other side of the river, and mingled with these, came the shrill single bell of a Nonconformist conventicle. To that mourning mother's ear, it seemed as it the air were full of bells and she thought, shndderingly, of that great bell of St Sep- alchre's which she had read of tolling with funereal stroke for the passing of a sinner's soul. The bells had done their worst by seven o'clock in the evening, when Adrian entreated his mother to share the dinner that had been brought from the hotel for him. She had ordored her carriage to come for her at ten o'clock. They sat down at the shabby little table, in the light of a paraffin lamp, and each made a pretence of eating in the hope of encoaraging the other. There was to be an enquiry before the magistrate tormorrow, aa enquiry at which Adrian would appear in his new character no longer a witness, but a prisoner, accused of being implicated in his brother's crime. The monung came, with drizzling rain and a south-west wind, a low gray sky and a heavy miat, through which the long black ridge of the moor looked like the shonlder of a reclming giaift sprawling along the level earth, and shattiujr out the sea. Adrian rose after a sleepless night, horribly depress- ed. His ignorance of his brother's move- ments filled him with anxiety.. The unutter- able anguish in his mother's face yesterday, m those Ion? hours of silence, broken only by half mechanical speech, had agonised him. What could he do to comfort her if the worst should happen, and Valentine should be arrested and brought back to the seme of his crime What could he do, he asked himself. And the answer meant only despair. He knew too weU that the domin- ant feeling of his mother's heart was her love for her younger son. Her grief for him would be an inconsolable grieL The magistrate's room was crowded, m the Coroner's room had been. There wan thtM mubtntM on the bench, ftU of iHiom knew uid lioiioared die name td ffftlfinlj, usd Mt for the nn'iappy mother who sat apart in her black raiment, with the dd famuy lawyer by her side. Lord St, Anstell arc CoVniel Deverili were present, and the logal element was represented by Mr. Cheyney, sandy- whiskered gentleman from the 9^easury, Mr. Distin, who watched the case 9q behalf of Colonel DeverOl, and Mr. Tomplini, Q. C, whom Mr. Gresham had engaged to pro- tect his client. Markham, aZtas Melnotte^ sat near Mr. Distin. « The inquiry before the magistnterlnvolv- ed a recapitulation of the endenoe tbathad been given before the Coroner, except in the case of Sir Adrian, whose lips were now sealed, and who sat apart, with a constable standing near his chair. The Doctor repeated his statement. Col- onel Deverili once again declared his con- viction that the body found in the Abbey river was that of his younger daugh- ter, and again swore to the rings which she had worn. Again Mrs. Marrable, with evident unwillingness, identified the miss- ing Persian rug. The important question of indentfty was fully established in the minds of the county magistrates, as it had been in the minds of the Coroner and his jury. The next question was how the deceased bad come by her death. Thatshehadnot drowned herself wasestab- lished already by the evidence of the surgeon. That shehad been killed by a blow upon the temple, and had been thrown in the river after death, was indisputable. Mr. Tompion cross- examined the medical witness in the endeav- our to shake his testimony upon this point, bat the attempt was obviously half-hearted and futile. Mrs. Marrable was severely handled in cross-examination by Mr. Distin. She admitted that Mr. Belfield had been dis turbed in mind since his wife's disappear- ance, and had seemed altogether an altered man that he had avoideid the rooms his wife had occupied, and had never been heard to mention her name all this had been thought only natural in a gentlemui whose wife had run away from him. She admitted that Sir Adrian's behaviour on the morning of Mrs. Balfield's disappear ance had caoaed some talk in the honsehold. One of the men-servants had met him on the stairs going up to his room, early in the morning, and had been struck by his de- jected countenance. " W as that before Mrs, Belfield's disap- pearance was known to the household 1" asked Distin. "Two hours before." Mr. Gresham objected that this was not evidence. It was only an impression de- rived from another person. " We can call the servant who made the remark," said Distin. At this moment there was a movement, and the sound of voices at the further end of the room, near the door opening to the street, and then the crowd made way for a tall man in a loose overcoat with a tur collar, who came slowly up to themagistrates' table. A silence of wonder came upon the whole assembly, which was broken only by a faint cry from Lady Belfield, who had risen, pale as death, at the approach of her younger son. " Valentiiie," she cried piteonsly. "Perhaps it would be as well to hear my evidence beforeyou waste time upon details," said Valentine Belfield. He too was pale, but he was thoroughly self- possessed, confronting all those eager faces calmly, as one whose mind had fully realised the worst that could befall him, an 1 who was prepared to endure it in the full strength of his manhood. " I am here to answer for the death of my wife," he said, gravely an! quietly, standing like a rock, with his face towards the bench, and with an air of seeing no one but the magistrates who sat there. ' It was I who kUled her." The clerk began to take down his evidence, which was given s'owly and distinctly, with a deliberation that made the writer's task easier than usual. "Yes, it was I who killed her. She had been a loving wife, and I had been a selfish and neglecttul husband, over-secure in my confideuce, forgetting that thers are always scoundrels and profligates on the watch for such prey â€" a pretty woman with a careless husbuid, intent on his own pleasures. We had never quarrelled, and I had never seen occasion for jealousy, till one night in a railway carriage, I over-heard a conversa- tion between two men, which informed me thst my wife was being pursued by a notor- ious seducer. At first I was inclined to be incredulous, but on discovering certain facts coimected with the sale of a horse which I had given to my wife in good faith, but which bad practically been the gift of her pdmirer, I saw that rhis person's intentioru were as vile as they could possibly be. The fact that he had been my particular friend would, I suppose, hardly make his conduct baser. The seducer is generally the hus- band's friend. " I came down to Chadford without an hour's delay, meaning to save my wife, if there were yet time, but in no soft temper towards her. The first thing I heard upon arriving was that the seducer was living in the neighbourhood, in hiding. I entered my mother^a house after midnight, with no worse intention than to call my wife to account for her falsehood and her folly, and to have a complete understanding with her. Such an explanation might have resulted in total severance, or io reconciliation. I had not asked myself which way it was likely to end. I was very aUgry my heart and my head were both on fire. Gnd knows I had no thought of killing her but I desired nothmg more keenly than an encounter with ner lover. •• I found her after midnight, with her tarunks packed ready for departure, all her preparations deliberately, made. She was wntang when I entered the room. She tried to keep the letter from me in her rerror. but I snatched it oat of her hand. This 'is the letterâ€" nnfinlshed." ,Tbe letter was handed to one of the ma. i^trates, who read it fimt fo himself and then Blond, amidst the 'breathlan â- fleo.re of the court. At the fur end of «ha rbom, Hnoiig the iimMnn ma « taU^mUM in UMk^who ^•^ ^^m^rfrnf^mm^ ie« valentine. and who stood there watchiiog and lutening. She wore a small black straw bonnet, very pisinly made, and a thick veil. Behind that veil, luid in tint 'b»Bat| no oi.#iKoti6ed Madge Dawley's striking beacty. She was only one figure more ii} the closely packed crowd, all intent upon tfa pun who stood in front of the magistrates' table, making a confession of his crime. " We' had some conversation after I had read that letter, a little diidogue which oijy served as a commentary on that text. SKe loved another man itnd she had ceased to love me. She stood before me telling me this, loofcii^'me in the face and tiglling me that she meant to dishonor me. " I conldn't stand this, and I lifted my malacca c«ne and struck her. I suppose I meant to knock her down. I don't believe I meant to kill her." There was a pause, and a little choking sound in his dry throat, before he went on very quietly. " Unluckily, my eane had a loaded haii- dle. I iitcack hw on the temple and she fell at my feetâ€" dead. I hardly know whether she breathed af ser she fell, for I was unconscious for some minn'es after her falL I believe I fainted. " When I recovered my senses my brother was in the room. He told me that my wife was dead, and urged me to make the fact public at once, and to exonerate myself from any darker crime than that of which I was guilty. The crime of an unpremed- itated blow, which had proved fatal. Had I been wise or reasonable, I should have taken my brother's advice but I was mad- dened at the thought of my wife's treason and my own peril. -I wanted to save myaelf from the danger of an inquiry. My state- ment might not be believed, my crime might be called mnrder. I thought myself clever enough to escape any question about that night s work. My wife's letter announced h:r intention of running away with her lover, ^y wife's trunks were packed ready for the journey. The world shonld be made to believe that she had carried out her intention. "Unwillingly, under strongest protest, my brother looked on while I carried my dead wife through the shrubbery to the river, and threw her in at a spot where I knew the watei was deepest. I took mea sures to weigh the corpse, and it would have lain there quietly till the crack Of doom had no search been made. When the business was over, I left the Pork, and walked all throush the rest of the night. I got into Bideford next day, and took a boat, and was knocked about the coast for a week or so before I went back to the Abbey. I' No one but my brother knew of my being at the Abbey that night no one but my brother knew of my crime. His was not a gailty knowledge. He knew nothing until the deed was done he gave me no help in getting rid of the body he did his uttermost to induce me to coiifess what I had done. The constable who had charge of Sir Adrian, was presently ordered to take Mr. Belfield into custody but the prisoner WiS treated with considerable courtesy, and ac- commodated with a seat while the enquiry went on. As Valentine seated himself near his brother, Adrian stretchjd out his hand, and the brothers clasped hands silently, amidst the silence of the court. Lady Bel- field sat with her head bent and her face hidden. There was a strange conflict of feeling in her breast. Gladness and pride because her beloved had acted an honest part, apprehension at the thought of his danger, that peril which he had of his own accord returned to face. The nex*- witness was one who had not been called previously, a witness whom Mr. Markham had hunted down since the in- quest. This was the man whose boat Valentine had hired on the twentieth of August, and who swore to the strange manner of his fare, and the state of physical exhaustion in which he had remained for a long time. This was the only new witness. The others only repeated the evidence given at the inquest, with' cu3h additional details as Sir Adrian's counsel or Mr. Distin could extort in cross examination. But there was no startling effect prodused by any of these witnesses. It was felt by most people present that the drama was n.arly played out. No one doubted the truth of Valentine Belfield's confession. He was there, a vol- untary witness against himself, and there was the stamp of truth upon every word he had spoken. His wife's own hand acknowledged her guilty intention, and in the uofinished letter there was some justification for the hus- b*nd'8 violence. He had done well to be angryâ€" but he had gone too far in his anger. That was all. Batween the justifiable anger that would cast off an erring wife, and the savage fury which slew her, there was a wide gulf; but that gulf had been too easily crossed by the mux who nad never learnt to curb his temper or to control his evil pas- sions. That was what most people in the magiatrares' court though about Mr. Bsl- -j 't.^ "® brothers sat quietly, side by side, like and yet nnlike, but never truor in their allegiance to each other, come weal come woe, that they were to day. ' The result of the inquiry was that Valen- tme Belfield was committed for trial at the next assiz3s, charged with the wilful murder of his wile, Helen Belfield, on the mornina of August 20th, while Sir Adrian Bslfieli was set at liberty, the Bench of Magutr^ites choosmg to ignore those points in his brothers confession which showed that though he was guiltless of being an accessory b'/ore the fact he was admittedly an acces sory after the fact. Local inflaence and spotless character here bore down the weight of evioence, and there was a mur- mur of opprobation in the room when Sir Adrian Belfield was ordered to be raleased from custody. Even the fact that he had deliberately perjured himself was forgotten Valentine slept that night in Exeter iail Lidy Belfield and Sir Adrian traveUed bv the sajnc train that carried the prisoner and took up their abode at a house near the Catoedral, where comfortable lodginga were to be had, and where the brekw-hearted mother micht dweU fai retirement, exempt from the publicity of an hotel, where her entrances and exits wonld have been watch- ed by a score of carious eyes. Daring the five weeka which elapwd be, fore the opening of the aaaisea, Lady%alfi«ld never left Exeter. She aaw her son evirv day and spent honn with him in hk inf. priacoment, comforted hy the mereibot^ resolnto aonl had atmggled againat in vain. "I fancied I could forget that night, mother," h9 taiif "blot thai ifhote tMngontk ^Bte out nlyltfe joist aa if no aach horror had ever happened but I did not know wlnt the shedding of blood means. Never for one single hoar of my life have I forgottenâ€" never shall I forget;' while have a brain to. remember. Uat I can bear the memory better now. It is not so heavy «; biirdmi." " Yoa have done all yon oonld in atone- ment," said the mother, fondly. "It was noble of you to come back." " Noble I shoald h^ve been tht veriest cur had I hesitated, when I saw my brother's honour at stake. Bit perhaps I might have been that cur had it not been for a woman ' " What woman, Valentine " "One who has eaten the bread of de- pendance in your bouse, mother, but aa good and noble a woman aa yon are. I cangive her no higher praise." And then he told his mother the story Madge Dawley s life, from his iricked|wooing in the idle autumn afternoons, and her scornful repulse of his overtures, to his last expsriences in the forlorn Hope. He spared himielf in nowise, confessing how dishonourable his intentions had been in tbe beginning how true and steadfast she had. shown herself from first to laat- " And yet she loves me, mother, aa men are not oftn lovei. She has loved me from tbe first. She loves me mono the less because of this cloud upon my life. She has been to this prison once a week since I was brought here. She has come all the way from London, absenting herself from those duties which she holds sacred, and she has sat with me here hand clasped in hand, for an hoar or so and then has kissed me good-bye, and has gone quietly back to her work, travelling so many miles just for (hat one hour, and she will be true to me to the bitter end. If ever I am a free man atrain, Madge Dawley will be my wife. Will it wound your priie, mother, that I shoald marry a daughter of the people " " My dearest, if she is as good a woman as yoa think her, I will welcome her with all my hear% I would be grateful to her, even if she were an erring woman, for the sake of her devotion to my son." " She is spotlesa, mother, and aa true as steel." "Then when the glad day oomea that yon Kn free to marry, I will be proud of her." Mr. Gresham, and the famous Tompion, Q. C, who was to conduct Valentine's de- lence, aided by a pair of clever juniors, had fully discussed the chances of the priaoner, and were of opinion that he would be ac- quitted on the capital charge. It would be a narrow escaps, at best, as the conceal- ment of the body was a damning fact. But it was hoped that the wife's letter would in- fluence the jury, and incline them to a lenient view of the circumstances, nor could the feeling inspired by the respectability of the Belfield family be ignored. There was no doubt that Lady Belfield's personal character would have weight with a jadge and jury. Mr. Tompion was not mistaken in this view of the case. He rurpassed himself in the eloquence of his defence he melted at his own pathos and drew floods of tears from his audience. He dwelt on the agony of the husband's feelings, stung to madness by the treason of the wife he adored ha painted the peaceful family life, the mother with her twm sons, the family circle into which evil feeling had never entered until the seducer came there, like the setpent into Eden. He depicted the remorse of the unhappy man, who in the moment of mad- dened feeling had struck down the creature he idolized. How, in his horror at finding himself an involuntary assassin, he had tried to hide his deed from the light, had tried to foivet what he had done. In vain, in vam. You have heard, gentlemen, that the prisoner was a changed man from that hour. He was no hardened reprobate. The pangs of conscience tortured him by night and day, and he knew not one moment of I relief until he stood up boldly before his I fellow-men, and volunUrOy confessed his crime, inviting whatever punishment the law might inflict. And then Mr. Tompion went on to show that in no case could the crime be more than manslaughter. The act had been altogether unpremeditated the blow had been struck by an instrument which happened to be ear- ned in the prisoner's hand, and to which no evil intent could attach itself. It had been the act of a single moment. The medical evidence showed that there had been but one blow, and that bad been unhappily fatal i et it had not been necessarily fatal. Had the blow fallen upon any other part of the victim 8 head, it mieht have stunned, but it need not have kiUed her. There was nothing to show that the prisoner had ever contem- plated her death. Had he taken his broth- era advice, and at once alarmed the house. the suspicion of murder could not posaiblv opemngofadoori,., piaoner's weaken^ ""tttoo ,. Andthis^^.*J«*ve,."»'.4,^^ "polled child of «7L** *» ist.^. athlet* whose «t???»««j7?** Wtl -tivity th:'p^ ,J'1^4^V4 dog and gun wer. " wbl^i**** hirelings -- â- * •»* himself. and court, waitbXa P'"'""'^ft^' " to the tiJoiR'i""^^o£' ti;err^'"---"Cj;^c;?[ She found a friendly told her the Dlri'*»«K»l seemed hard and crnTtoT ^^'" S h»ve travelled from Loal^! *ho Z sittmg by the capi •^""t W. m mournful .t\»d.^f, the'^oul?'"'"'^-".^.,,.,^, " I have been looking for v«n x, " he said. «.My moSVo^^^^' you before you go back tn t ^*« *0| take you to her ' " "" H,, "I should like to see X t „ much. There is no trdn t^^ ^?^«W ' backtol^ndon^bhTvJi"' tak. gaged a room for the nfaJT h ""e an early train to mo3^«"l«kaUp " Thtn you can spend the ««.; us. My mother wants to tIlkT«' th^uk you for your devotiontomvi •' hhe ha^ no need to thank me u' only obeyed my destiny. T Lu' ' " loving him, novedhimoiirtS^!' his em and mUery, than I loved ht"' he was proud and happy " ' " hoL'e^Sh^SfBi^tti and Adrian led MaVe Se7 .* drawing-room, wherehis motbJwL5«^L in an easy chair by the fire. weeniZ^ quiet tears of resigLtion for he ^.^ shemust see so seldom in those tw!^ happy years. She had seen himledl* cnmma to expiate hU crime among oS, m^efactora It was not enough tt had confessed his guilt, that he WMfeS the slow tortures of remorse. He mS the penalty. And he had looked to H wanm the grey winter light, andaftenrt m the glare of the gas. Would he X! accomplish his penance? Would he ew come forth agam into the the light of dw freeman? » "ii Madge went over to the sorrowiMmotiio and knelt down beside her. Lady Bdfii put her arm round the girl's neck andkiued her. "He told me all that you hid dooe k him," she said. " I th*nk God that thm is one other woman in the world who bâ„¢ him as well as I do." (to BE CJXTISUED.) I •gony (rf- aOMit '%%^'v?m Suv^.TffvfS"" have attached to him. This and much more, urged Mr. Tompion m mitigation of Valentine Belfield's gnilt and the judge followed with a anmming up which strongly favoured the priaoner, albeit he took care to point bat the reprehensible nature of all his acta after the fatal blow, and the cruel wrong done to his dead wife's reputation and to the feelings of her kindred, m allowing her to be tidked of aa a runaway ^fe, whUe ahe waa lyinir in her nnoonsecrat- ed grave, unhonoured and onmonmed. The whole course of the priaoner'a oondnct after his first fatal act muat be considered as an aggravauon of the guflt of that act said the lodge. The reault waa a verdict of manslaughter. Ihe judge pronounced sentenceâ€" two veara' imprisonment with hard Uboar. It was a heavier sentence than the san- guine had hoped for; but to Lady Belfield. whose f eara had been terrible, thi» worat and Sfh^""!!" her son's wrong-doing seemed Sfi^w?*" clasped her hands ailent thankfulness when the sentence was pro- nounced. 1 '^««w" another woman who atood with clasped handa, full of reaiguation-tiiat wo^ man who had promiaed to be hia wife when hwhafrwae white. Madge Dawley aaw him S2rt'Sr*^yiyJ'"«^« dock betweet yeara the law would hold him in aubiecS â- ^ A DOG-FACED GIEL. Her Expression. ;ait. and Spcich Hart Canine PeeDliaritles. In a londy cahin on tbe banks of Oaelii Creek, in the town of Willett, CortLuid county New York State,, may befomdi remarkable freak of nature, known throngl the county roundabout as the "dog-W girl." Here mother and daughter mmed respectively Orilla and S:irah VS^alh, lire alone, and in poverty, gaining a precarii/Di sapport by picking berries and githerii; roots and herbs, and from gifts atthehudi of the numerous visitors whom cnrioei^ brings to their hut. Tue peculiarity of the dog fased girli features lies in the chin, mouth and Doie, which protrude frcm the head and neck to an ei^cessive and unnatural degree, and at shape~ strikingly like a dog's snont or mnzzle. Otherwise she is well formed nil fully developed for a girl of 1-5 yean, vi is notably robust and active. BatdHi weak-minded, and the wonderful thingkboii her imbecility is its canine characteristiaB voice and movement. Up to about 10 years old the girl peruiW in running about on all fours, and fa nm posture she could outrun any child of m age. Her vocal utterances, also, weremu vellously like the barkingorhowlingof a to As she approached the period of womanhw she learned to walk erect, and her voice lon something of its canine tones, bntherf*â„¢^ ea and utterances are still bo unnustauW doglike as to attract marked attention m wonder. .^ •«, She has a constant stream of viaitors, i^ eluding physicians and scientists »'"'" ordinary curiosity mongers, and these w told truthfully that her father, who dJM shortly after her birth, was innoway m» ed or peculiar. Her mocher is £ooi looKU* in ieatore and figure, and ordinarily mtm eat. None of the dog-faced g" « "^^^ have asyet suggusted any plausible theory" the freak which gave her to the wor a. His first NigW Out. Bride (of a month)-My husband seem3 to be oat very late to night. Maid-Yes'm it's after H o clock. " Mercy on me Do yon mP'\°^,^' have met some former sweetheart, «»na "No, indeed, mum the butler tellB» your husbaud is at the duh having » 8^ time with his bachelor f "«""' '"'Iw it" ma'am, you ought to do ^f «t^"Sle» I "Why, of course, Hjjw *Mn8" „ Get me that box of phosphorus am! the cabinet." " Djarie ms anioide ' "Suicide! You You ain't going must iffcomnai I'n» ,n musii he crw^ ^^ goingdown to the front door tomb pno^i a« on the keyhole." An Every-Day Marten ^^__^ Jink»-«What was the »»«*'â- Â«* house last night?" Blinksâ€" "Matter? -ojog cm "Yes; something nnnsaal go"-** wam't there?" .„ t '• Not that I know of. j,on* i Eh? Wiiy, as iJ^J!^ 'Brn*; heard a woman's """ voice ia» a Uttie chiid,-meti5r ^to ?S2.~SS *^^^ «wy movOTwnt of mm. She tajinhlioiii;^riSni;Sad'Su1SLS JlliSf S^^"'^*^^^ ud I don^ know whax all. ^j^^j,, and day. YQUNG FOLKS JACKY'S TKAMP. BY H. BOTSFOKD. -ujier left Jacky and me in chai ^f^J-jien he and mother starte r Creek. They only meant t returning on the early t ,. bnt they might, I'm si aii winter, if they'd chosenâ€" itoanaged well enough alone. of the out-door work that I'm fZtll posted about, if I do say i |vjjcky's cooking is good enoug There's nothing strange in Jacky' I Zlthinit about housework, for, ""is a girl« She insiata that he leline, and I ought to call her 1 J, too long for every-day use, Jacky, and when she puts on Kled shoes, and piles all her hair '^hoad to look young-ladytied, I CLt of calling her Jack. It tease S^ anything I could call her. iWell, things went on all right fdkswere off, until just at night. -oe eating supper ihere %vas a kn J^, and Jacky answered it. Iha " Vhere I missed it. I should j^ygelf and saved all the fuss i Sterwards. I wouldn't have let ai l_jn come in to stay all niglit. jwu just what Jacky did. Thi le nor I could understand wha .xcett that he wanted to see M Ifld would wait tUl he came. Tl i,re could make out, for we couldn msn, and he only seemed to know 1^1 words. Wasn't it a nice situ If the stranger couldn't talk ht well enough, and he seemed to no tUng. Wasn't it likely that he v a part, merely to get into the h wotW have a good chance to rob I u in the night, and no one eve 'out. I thought then as I think It wasn't wise to let him stay wouldn't hear to turning him out stormy night. Besides, it's dou coidd have made bim understar wanted him to leave. "Why, it's four miles bac village, and he looks tirid out i Sunk it wonld be cruerto turn 1 Jacky said. " There's no harm Hire. He doesn't look like a t like a weary, travelstained gentl may be poor, but I know he isn 1 never thought ycu were timis but it looks like it," she added. That settled the question. have sent him off then for co but I know she did not feel the ity I did, if she was sixteen, an older than 1. So the stranger stayed and w late I showed him to the bedroi mine, and opening from tl room. I meant to sleep wit open, and wanted to have by for company, of course, that I owned a pistol, but fa never let me buy one so I put (it's almost as old as my grand chsdr at tbe head of my bed, an deep. I do not know how long J asleep, but I suppose it was q and that it was past midni I suddenly awoke. I listene out if all was quiet in the next an indistinct murmur caught m I could not hear the words, bi whispering going on there, whic been what waked me. The man must have ace thought, and wondered wh do. Could I rout two, or pi growii men? While I was wita together, to make some bol heard some one come out of the and Walk about the sitting ro for money, of ' course. Thei window opened, and the loud pistol. What was on foot I sprang up, seized the gun, I reached the door the footsteps si retreating into the bedroom, struck me. 1 laid the gun crept cautiously out ot the sitting-room was dark, though left the lamp burning ;but theds ed my plan. I reached the b drew it stealthily to, and lock aayone inside the room could Then I crept back to my owr ed, and, with gun in hand w other man. I felt pretty sur tramp, for I knew he could window to escape without m^ What that report meant, or vs dde man was about, I could n wasn't very jolly to sit there in Wonder amd listen. It was a ci very coldest, it seemed to me uw. My hands began to gi iaet were like lumps of ica, ar ay reaolntion I began to get s mean to watch till morning if 1 1 tempt. Time went very slowl; as though hours must have pai last I heard a clock strike. It b ~1 thought it must be as late a four â€" why, it is near inornin aqd yet the strokes did not c (dock moat be wrong," I mutt ttaaperating thing kept on as *ibly conld, and struck tweh iicaae waa perfectly quiet aga I began to feel doubtful i **ake until morning. At an; â- Bake myaelf a little more g»ii I laid tue gun down within luuid, and palled a blanket *nip myaeu in and that is â- Â«mber of the night's ezperie I waa wkked by a loud kn ootaide door. I started up, si ^ylight, and heard my tath me to let bim in. At i »acky harried out from the! *he liad been getting breakfai "â- â€¢irith an astonished look ai ** Why George, didn't you i IMMet the folks? I was w 'TO Wore gone so long." -Then, when I had let them S««ked that I failed to (x ^S^.a^ cairii^ie, audi sa SSlfeB ready for me. JV%* have been waitmg u Igfcoir," heaidd, "and I "*â-  MiNdd have to come on fo oa oqplain how it hapi idrifveover. I shan't tn man, if yon can't laoMi aa I oonld^efea cfa ,^t» aseaae myaelf, thoi .^^•fe anelf for overaleei l^ther, Uyoatnei yon went awa -â€" .«. .^â- i?'