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HomeMy WebLinkAboutThe Exeter Times, 1888-11-8, Page 21101111011seeTeddtennee LIKE AND UNLIKE. By M. E. BRADDON, Atreireee00 "Ly AUDieee'S Seen -nee" Wermenn's Wseinto" Eno., Ere. CHAPTER X17,—Tittne To Resit Cerieen. The police had not been'idle during the day of the irquest, or during that day on wet h Mr, Beifit ld was making his first ex- p. t oast in the art of windew-cleaning. T• usual machinery had been at work, and the mewl resmt of failure during the first forty eight hours of pursuit. Tbe first few days in such a hune are generally blank. Markham the detective,. had not gone back to London atter the inquest. Be re- lied on subordinate intelligenee, assisted by. photography, to track the euspeoted cruninal. His own work he fele lay in the neighborhood of Ciiedford, where the final links in the chain of evidence were to be put together. Lord St. Austell was still at the Bridge Hotel, keeping very quiet, but ready at all seasons to center with Mr. Mat khans. * * * * * * St Adrian epent the first day of his iin- prieonment in a lestlesse indifference as re - e • - led. himself or his own convenience, but eeenest anxiety about his bronten. ti Mr.Greseam, the solicitor, with him spon the evening of his arrest and tatked ver the evidence given at the Inquest with ha tgentleman, but committed himselt to statement or admission vehatiever. "You have to de*1 with the evielenee as stands, Gresham," he said. "1 admiu no- hing about myself or my brother." "I am sorry to say, Sir Adriau, that un. less you oan disprove John Grange's state• ment, you tacitly admit yourself guilty of perjury," "I am not in a position, at present,to dis- prove Grange's eeatement ; but I think I hava ae good a right to be believed as he has." ' On any indifferent matter, your word woeld doubtless be taken in preference to bit; but on a question of life and death for your brother, the statemenv of any disin- terested witness would be preferred to yours." "What am I to do in my brother's interest? I do not care about myself." "In both your interests we must try to secure Distin. I will telegraph to him directly the cam 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 Fete he should have the best assis- tance that training and hereditary instinct could afford. Distin had been suckled upon orininal live, and cradled in the Old Beitey. No doubt Distin was the men. It was a shock to Sir Adrian, therefore, when Mr. Gresham came into his room next morning—soon after the coffee and hot eons 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 Deverill." This is unlucky for us, Sir Adrian, it is bad enough not to have Distin with us; but it is worse to have him against !ie.') • "You on get some one else, I suppose, if you are not strong enough yourself to pro- tect our interests." '1 am roe a criminal lawyer, Sir Adrian; but perhaps my regard for your family may stand in the place of experience at the Old Bliley. I am not afraid to undertake your defence if you will trust me." 't would rather trust you than any other member of your profession." The following dey 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, te serious reed • ing and quite thoughb. A gloom had over- shadoweci all his days eince his brother's crime, but Sunday had been net the less a day apart, a time of prayer and meditation, remorseful memory or 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. They at togeth- er through the dull wintry day, taking very little heed of time:—only noting the passing of the hours by the church bells, sounding with a heavy monotony from the old Norman tower near at hand—the fine oIci square tower with its crock-etted finials, rising high above old tiled gable ends, clustering on the summit of the hay 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 convenbiele. To that mourning mother's ear, it seemed as it the air were full of bele and she thought, shudderingly, of that great bell of St. Sep- ulchre's which she had read of tolling with funereal stroke for the passing of a sinner's soul. The hells 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 foe; him. She had Ordered her carriage to come for her at ten o'clock. They sat down at the seabby little table, in the light of a paraffin lamp, and each made a pretence of eating in the hope of encouraging the other. J2here was to be an enquiry before the magistrate to -morrow, an 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 morning came, with drizzling rain and a Routh -west wind, a low gray sky and a heavy mist, through which the long black ridge of the moor looked like the shoulder of a reclining giant sprawling along the level earth, and shutting out the sea. Adrian nose 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, in those lone hours of silettoe, 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 Hoene of his crime? What could he do, he asked hitneelf. And the answer meant only despair. He knew too well that the domim ant fang of his mother'heare was her love for her younger son. Her grief for him were'd is an iteonsolable grief. 'tt The magistrate's room was crowded, as the Corner 1 oom had been. There were three megistratee tit the bench, all of whorn knew and nozionred tee eeme of &Afield,• and felt for the unhappy re -en n vex set epert in her black raiment, with tne cdd madly lawyer by her side. Lord St. Anateli and 41olonel Bayern/ were protent, and the legal eminent was represented by Mr. Cheyhey, the sandy - whiskered gentleman hewn the Treiteury Mt, Meths' who Watehed the cage on bell 1 of Colt:MelDeverill, ahd. Mr. Tompi el. Q. 0.whom Mr. Greehain had engaged to pro - teat his client. Varklutine aims Mehlotte, set near Mr. Diet** The ingeiry before the magistrates involv- ed a recapitulation of the evidence that had been given before the Coroner, except in the caunof Sir Adrian, whose lips were now sealed and, who eat apart with a constable standing near hie chair, The Doctor repeated his statement. Col- onel Deverill 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. Armin Mrs. Marrable, with evident unwilliugness, identified the min- ing Persian rug.. The itnportant question of indentity was fay oetablishect in the min& of the county magistrates, as it had been in the minds of the Coroner and his jury. The next question was how the deceased had come by her death. Thatshehtednot drownedhersolf was estab- lished already by the evidence of the surgeon. Thatshehad been killed by it 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 teie poine, boo the attempt was obviously half-hearted and futile. 141re. Marrahle was severely handled in cross-examination by Mr. Distin. She admitted that Mr. Hatfield had been dis- turbed) in mind ahem his wife's disappear- ance, and had seemed altogether an altered man; that he had avoided the rooms his wife had occupied, and had never been heerd to mentioa her name; all this had been thought only natural in it gentlemen whose wife had run away frona him. She admitted that Sir Adrian's behaviour on the mooning of Mrs. Hatfield's disappear ance had caused some talk in the household. One of the menservants had met him on the stairs going up to his room, early in the morning, and had been struck by his de- jected countenance. " as that before Mrs. Halfield's disap- panrence was known to the household 1" esked 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 it tall man in a loose overcoat with a rur who cameslowly up to themagistrates' table. A silenoe of wonder came upon the whole assembly, which was broken only by a faint cry from Lady Hatfield, who had risen, pale as death, at the approach of her younger son. "Valentine," she cried piteously. "Perhaps it would be as well to hear my evidence beforeyon waste time upon details," said Valentine Hatfield. 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; and who was prepared to endure it in the full strength of his manhood. "1 am here to answer for the death of my wife," he said, gravely and 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 killed her." The clerk began to take down his evidence, which was given slowly and destinaly, with it deliberation that made the writer's task easier than usual. "Yes, it was I who killed her. She had been a loving wire, and I had been a selfish and neglectful husband, over -secure in my confidence, forgetting that there are always scoundrels and profltgates on the watch for snob prey—a pretty woman with a careless husband, 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 that my wife was being pursued by a notor- ious seducer. At first I was inclined to be incredulous, but on discovering certain facts connected with the sale of a horse whieh I had given to my wife in good faith, but which bad practically been the gift of her edmirer, I saw that this parson's intentions 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. "1 came down to Chadford without an hour's delay, meaning to save my wife, if there were yet time, bit 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's house after midmight, with no worse intention than to call my wife to account for her falsehood and her folly, and to have a complete undersbanding with her. Such an explanation might have resulted in total eeveraiece, or in reconciliation, I had not asked myself which way it was likely to end. I was very angry; my heart and my head were both on fire. God knows I had no thought of k011ing her; but I desired nothing more keenly than an encounter with her lover. "1 found lar after midnight, with her trunks packed ready for departure'all her preparatione deliberately made. She was writing when I entered the room. She tried to keep the letter from me in her *error, but I snatched it out of her hand. This is the letter—unfinished." The letter was handed to one of the ma- gistrates, who read it first to hinnielf and then ahead, amidst the breathlees silence of the court. At the fan, end of the room, among the spectators was a tall woman in black, who had entered immediately after Valentine, and who Stood there watchieg and listening. She wore a small black etraw bonnet, very plainly made, and a thick veil. Behind that veil, and in that bonnee, no one noticed Madge Dawley's striking beauty. She wag only one figure more in the closely peeked crowd a intent upori the man who arnod in frone of the magistrates' table, making P confeselon of his crime. "We had sone conversation after I it Ad read that letter, a little dialoguo whieh enly served as a commentary on .ext. She 'eyed another man and she ha ceased to love me. She stood before nie ielling roe leoking tine in the face si,ha elling me that elm meeet to dishonor me. "1 couldn t stand this, and I lifted my malacca cane and strtiok her, I suppose L meant to kneek her doWn. I don't believe I meant to kill her.' There wee a patise, and a little choking sotind he hie dry thresst, before he went on very quietly. "0 altteltily, my oene had e. loaded hen, die. J Isteuek her on the teinple and elle •••••••••••,,,,,, fell at my feet—dead, X hardly know whether she breathed after the fell, for I was unconscious for 'some minutes after her fall, I believe I fainted. " When X recovered ray senses my brother was hethe room, He told me that my wife was dead, and urged me to make the feot public at once, Oncl to exonerate myself kora any darker crime than that of which 1 waa guilty. The crime of an =premed- itated blow, which, had proved. fatal. Had I been wise or retteenable, 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 myself from the danger of an inquiry. My 'state- ment mighe not be believed, my crime might be nailed murder. 1 thought myself clever erongh to escape any question ahout that night a work. My wife's letter announced her intention of running away with her lover. My wife's trunks were packed ready for the journey. The world should be made to believe that she lead carried out her intention. " Uawillingly, 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 water was deepest. I took Mee - sures to weigh the corpse, and is would have lain there quietly till the creek of doom had no search been made. When the businthe was over, I left the Park, and walked all through the rest of the night. I got into Bideford next day, and book a boat, and was knocked about the coast for a week or so before I went back to the Abbey. "No one but my broth* knew of my being at the Abbey that night : no one but my brother knew of my crime. His was not a guilty knowledge. He knew nothing until the deed was done; he gave me no help in getting rid of the body 1he did his uttermost to induee me to cotifess what I had done. The constable who had charge of Sir Adrian, was presently ordered to take Mr. Belfield into custody; but the prisoner was treated with considerable.courtesy, and ao- cornmodated with a seat while the erquiry went on. As Valentine meted himself near his brother, Adrian stretched 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 conflicb• 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 nexe witness was one who had not been called previously, a witness whom Mr. elerkham had hunted down since the in- queet. This was the MRII whose boat Valentine had hitecl on the tweneieth of August, and whor swore to the strange manner of his fare, and the state of physical exhaustion in which he had remained for along time. This was the only new witness. The others only repeated the evidence given at the iuquett, with euile additional details as Sir Adrian's counsel or Mr. Diatin could extort in cross exatnivation. But there was no startling efface produced by any of these witnesses. It was felt by most people present that the drama was ntarly played out. No one doubted. the truth of Valentine Beifield's confession. Efe 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 band acknowledged her guilty intention, and in the unfinished letter there was some justification for the bus - bend's violence. He had done well to be angry—but he had gone too far in his anger. That was all. Between the justifiable anger that would cast off an erring wife, and the savage fury which slew her, there was a wide gull; but that gulf had been too easily crossed by the man who na.d never learnt to curb his temper or to control his evil pas- sions. That was what most people in the magistrates' court though about Mr. Bele field, as the brothers sac quietly, side by side, like anci. yet unlike, but never truer in their allegiance to each other, come weal, come woe, that they were to -day. The result of the inquiry was that Valen- tine Belfield was committed for trial at the next assizes, charged with the wilful murder of his wile, Nelen Hatfield, on the morning of Anguet 20th, while, Sir Adrian Bernell was set at liberty, the Bench of Magistrates choosing to ignore those points in his brother's confusion which showed that though he was guiltless of being an accessory Wore the fact he was admittedly an acces- sary after the fact. Local influence and spotless character here bore down the weight of evidence, and there was a mur- mur of opprobation in the room when Sir Adrian Belfield was ordered to he released from custody. Even the fact that be had deliberately perjured himself was forgotten. Daring the five weeks which elaeoed be- fore the opening of the assizes, Lady &Afield never left Exeter. She saeher son every day and spent hours with him in his im- prisonment, comforted by the mere fact of being in his company, oomforted still more by the 'softened temper which he showed in all things His whole nature seemed to have been subdued and chastened by that long agony of silent remorse, which his strong resolute soul had struggled against in vaiu. •" I fancied I couLd forget that night, mother," he said, "blot the whole thing out, live oat my life just as if no such horror had ever happened ;but I did not know what the shedding of blood means. Never for ens single hour of my life have I forgotten— never shall I forget, while I have mbrain to remember. But I can bear the memory better now. It is not so heavy a burden!' "You have done all you could in atone. ment," said the mother, fondly. "It was noble of you to come back." "Noble 1 I should have been the veriest cur had I hesitated, when I saw my brother's honour at stake. But perhape I might have been that cur had it not been for a we man ' "What woman, Valentine ?" "One who has eaten the bread of de- pendance in your hots*, mother, but se good and noble a woman as you are. I cangive her no higher praise." And then he told his mother the story Madge Dawley s life, from his wicked wooing itt bhe idle autumn afternoons, and her scornful repulse of his overtures, to hie last eeperiencee in the Forlorn Hope. He spared himself in no W1490, confessing how ehonourable his intentiene had been in to beginning ; how trite and steadfast she hadshownherself from firet to last- “ And yet she loves me, mother, as men are net eften loved. She hen loved me ,rorri the firer. She loves me mone the lent breause e this cloud upon ity life. She lute been to this prison owe a week since I was brought here. She has come all the way from London, absenting herself from those duties which she holds sacred, mild she has sat with me her hand clasped in hand, far an hour or eo and then has kieeed ine goedebye, and has gone quietly back to bor work, travelling so many miles jest et that one honr, and she will be true to the to the biker end. If eV* X am a free man again, Madge Dawley will be my Wife. Will it wound your pride, mother, that I should marry A daughter of the peopte ?” "My deereet, if she Le as good a woman as you think her, I will welcome her vvith, all my heart, I would be grateful to her, even if she wero an erring woman, for the sake of her devotion to my son," • "She is spotless, mother, and as true as steel," "Then when the glad day comes that you are free to marry, I will be proud of her." Mr, Gresham, and the famous Tampion, Q. C., who veae to conduct Valentine's de- term'aided by a pair of clever juniors, lied fully dismissed the chances of the prisoner, ani were of opinion tha t he would be ac- quitted on the capital charge. It would be it narrow escape, at best, as the conceal. inent 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 it lenient view of the circumstances, nor eould 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 it. jadge and jury. Mr. Tempi= was not miseaken in this view of the case. Ha rurpaesed himself in the elcquence of his defence he melted at his own pathos; and drew floods of tears from hie audience. He dwele on the agony of the husband's feelings, stung to madness by the treason of the wife he adored; he painted the peaceful family life, the mother with her twin sons, the family circle into which evil feeling had never entered until the seducer mune there, like the serpent into Eden. He depicted the remorse of the unhappy man'who in the moment of mad- dened feeling had sbruck 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, bed tried to forget what he had done, In vain, in vain. You hive 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 relief until he stood up boldly before his fellow -men, and voluntarily confessed his crime, inviting whatever punishment the law might inflict,. And then Mr. Tampion went on to .show that in no case could the crime be more than manslaughter. The act had been altogether unpremediteted ; the blow had been struck by an instrument which happened to be car- ried 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 had been unhappily fatal, Yet it had not been necessarily fatal. Fled the blow fallen upon any other part of the victimhead, it might have stunned, but it need not have killed her. There was nothing to show that the prisoner had ever contem- plated her death. }red he taken his broth- er's advice, and at once alarmed the house, the auspicion of murder could not poseibly have attached to him. This and muoh more, urged Mr. Ton -mien in mitigation of Valentine Belfield'a guilt; and the judge followed with a summing up which strongly feveurecl the prisoner, albeit he took care to point out the reprehensible nature of all his acts after the fatal blow, and the cruel wrong clone to his dead wife's reputation and. to the feelings of her k.ndred, in allewing her to be talked of as a renaway wife, while she was lying in her uuconsecrat- ed grave, un'aonoured and unmourned. The whole eourse of the prisoner's conduct after his first fatal act must be considered as an aggravation of the guilt of that act, said the judge. The result was a verdict of menslaughter. The judge pronounced sentence—two years' imprisonment with hard labour. It was a heavier sentence than the san- guine had hoped for; but to Ltdy Belfield, whose fears had been terrible, thie worst and last result of her sou'a wrong -doing seemed light. She clasped her hands in silent thankfulness when the sentence was pro- nounced. There was another woman who stood with clasped handsefull of resignation—that wo• man who had promised to be his wite when his hair was white. Madge Bewley saw him move slowly away from the dock betweee two warders, and knew that for two weary years the law would hold him in subjection like a little child, meting out his tasks and regulatieg every movement of his life. She knew that his slow houts would pass in automatic labours—cleaning his cell, going out and coming in at the word of command, working with it gang of other toilers, each the image of himself; eating, driuking, kneeling to pray by line and rule, living for the most part in a death -like silence, in which the ticking of the clock or the suddeti opening of a door is al nost too much for the prisoner's weakened nerves. She found a friendly sergeant at last, who told her the Dartmoor regulations, which seemed hard and mei to her, who would have travelled from London to Devonel.ire every week, just for the comfort, of sitting by the captive's side for an hour, in mournful silence for the most parte Sir Adrian met her as she was leaving the court, "1 have been looking for you Margaret," he said. "My mother would like to see you before you go back to London. May I take you to her ?" I should like to see Lady &Meld very much. There is no train that will take me back te London this evening. I have en- gaged it room for the nignt, and shall go by an early train tomorrow.' "Than you can spend the evening with us. My mother wants to talk to you—to thenk you for your devotion to my brother." "She has no need to thank me. I have only obeyed my destiny. I could not help loving him. I loved him only the better hi his sin and misery, than I loved him when he was proud- and happy." They walked together to the old gray house in which Ledy Belfield was lodgitig, and Adrian led Madge Dewley up to the drawing-room,where his mother was sitting in an easy chair by the fire, weeping the quiet tears of resignation for the son whom she must see so seldom in those two un- happy years. She had seen him led off as a criminal, to expiate his crime among other malefactors. It was not enough that he had confeseed hia,guilt, that he had suffered the slow torturee of remorse. He meat pay the penalty. And he had looked so ill and wan in the grey winter light, and afterwards in the glare of the gate iVould he live to accomplish hie penance? Would he evet come forth again into the the light of day, it free man? Madge went over to the sorrowing mother and knelt down amide her, Lady Belfield put her erm round the girl's neck and kissed He told rho all that you had done for ; elle Said. "1 thank God that there is Otte Other woman in the world Who lotteg bit Itti well as Ido,' e�T0 tt eeNTItAtrgOo) The agrioelture and trade of the Bahama Islands ate both declining. LATE CABLE NEWS Tiord Sgokyille's Indi4oretion—Continenta1 A.#3,irs 7 -The Sectiviati Very full details of Lord Saekville's dull folly and of the comments and 'agitation to which it hes given rise have'been cabled to Loudon during the last two days, and the epi sode far the moment transom -ids in interest even the Parnell Commission. I have talked with a good many Englishmen in Parliamentary and offioial life and have found not one who does not regard the thing as an unpardonable piece of egapidity. The London press has preserved an almost ab- solute silence on the oubjeon but the Man- ehester "Guardian's" remark that "the letter was a blunder of tke most unfortunate character, and Lord Salisbury will no doubt deem it his duty to take official notioe of the: indiecretion," expresses the general Eaglish feeling. Lard Salisbury has cable& to him a rebuke <touched in such three and energetic tams that his prompt resignation is taken for granted in Downing -street and that provision has already been made to re- tire hi n on a secondmiaare pension of $G 500 yearly, to whioh his term of service entitles -him. It may be mentioned incidentally. that the fact that he m e brother of the Countess of Derby, who is the stepmother of Lord Seltsbary, does not improve his re- latioes with the Prime Minister. ' Apart from the sudden reappearance of the shadow of Benlangism the only interest. ing thing on the Continent is the Servian politiommatrimonial Ignabble. About this European opinion, speaking now of all Eu- rope save Pranceend Russia, ia curiously di- vided. Personal sympathy runs very gener- ally with Nathalte. Political sympathy is Wibh Milan. No doubt the Q eeen is individ- ually in the right, and has been treated brutally by her dull, deunken gambler of it husband, but, on the other bend, Milan, dis- reputable libertine though he may be, repre- sents the Austrian ascendency in Servia., and that is felt to be more desirabite for Earopean peace and pnblie policy gdnerally than Rus- sian, domination. What will come of the Ring's bold step, which is an odd parody of Henry vim 'a trick in first creating his Arch- bishop and then getting from him hie divorce, remains to be seen. Nathalie is going to St. Petersburgwhen the Czez and Cserina return from the Ceuceems, and will be received there in state. Whether she will get overt assis- tance from Rneeia is another matter, but the pi esent effect will be to increase the scene Pan Stevie agitation in Servia, and thus strengthen Auserea's hold on the Ring. It is well known that if Milan could get money enough to live handsomely the rest of his life he would chuck up the whole business of Kingship and go te Paris, whither all his bectinatione lead him. Per- haps his abdication and a setting up ef his sou under Austrian tutelege is the most likely outcome. Eagland tide month will be deeply agitat- ed by the question of the secularization of public schools. Secterhen schools no w recei ve mily 510,000,000 annually from the Treas- ury. Ihe repore of the Royal Commission on Edueation, a body which contains, besides Cerdinal Manning, a preponderant number of Church of England dignitaries and sym- pathizers, now proposes to levy on the taxes as well for the support of these sectarian schools up to the amount of $250 for every scholar Jet average attendance. The whole Nonconformist) body is up in firms against this proposal and a big edu- cation conference is called to fight it tooth and nail. A Man of Sin. Maekitrate (t Uncle Restue)--This police-. man, Uncle Restive says,he caught you steal- ing chickens last night). Uncle Restus—Yee, eah, an' I bole de gem - man when he 'rested me dat der mheister woe comin' ter dinner de nex' day, an' I hadn't a scrap ob meat in de house. Yo' eee, sa.h it was a matter of relitr,yun vvid me. It wouldn't do ter disappoint one of de leawd's elect. Megirstrate—And what did the policeinan say? • Uacle Restue—Ha said "Rite" sah. Now yer Honah dat man hain't got 'nuff 'rupee' fo' de relijua side ob life ter be ev'n motely connected wif de majasfry ob de law. Music and the Churches. The New York "Chrietian Inquires" (Bap- tist) says : “ In the Chur di of the Divine Paternity of this otty it is proposed to de- vote a suceetsion of Sanda.y 'wettings to music and politics.' To nse the pastor's own words :— 'The idea ks to give more prominence to mimic and less to preaching, and such words as do come from the pulpit; shall pertain to the political isaues of the day.' "To this end a male quartet, and a chorus of forty voioes have been added to the regu- lar quartee, and an elaborate musical pro. gramme will be offered each Sundae/ even- ing." Remedies for Ugly Girls. A New York newspaper lately contained Oil account of it young girl in that city who, in attempting to give her hair, which was of a dull hue, a golden lustre, burned the flesh off her head with a powerful aeid, and in- jured her sight for life. Another young woman, in New Orleans, followieg the directions of some flash Socie- ty paper, in endeavoring to remove the melee upon her face, poisoned the flesh and died in great) agony. The use of certain hair dyes, containing lead, in many instances hes brought on al. fections of the brain. , • A well-known American writer attlibutes itt ebstineee attack of typhoid -fever, which belt her an invalid for years, to her use of it populate .Antilidtt system of diet and violent exercine, She lost sixty pounds oi flesh in a 'few weelese,but the sudden weakening of the tissuen tendered her susceptible to the poieon of typleSid and unable to resist it. APassion for Yellow. "I think that Mime Onigsby hair the worse taste he the World ro -why "She has a perfect ptiesion for yellow. She has yellow boil:meta, yellow dresses, yellow ribbons, aha 1 guese she'sorry that she hasn't yellohate '"Where is she now ?" "Gone to ElOricla, I stippeee she wants to eontraot the yells*/ fever." • ve .1..11..h.r I Joil—nnders Worse than Urimes. The "Daily News "says Lord Sacks ville has done nothing ef which an hones,* man heed he ashatned. But there ate blund. era which %reverse than crimes," PASSING NOTEfil, yesee—ci You never call me an angel now. John." Husband--" I am willing to call yon 011Q, my deter." The new English atat Toast has put up the price of Imre slit from 60o. to $2.2d per ton, and lump export salt from $2 to al3.75. "That's an easy one, said the bffioer or the law, much reiieved. ' 1180 ell I nem war has been declared and a draft ordered Ths only trimntings used on black silk cheeses when made entieely of one kind of silk, faille, grits grain, perm de soie or moire are jet paseementerie,s and fine black chan- tilly lace. "A good deal of real estate is °hanging hands,' said a neighbor. "Oh, no," answer- ed it witty purchaser. • " A goad deal of money is changing heads; that's tihe /real state of the ceee. This is the season when the bride who does not intend, to keep house looks over her wedding presents and finds four &men diver ',peons, eight either piokle dishes, and etiough seup tureens to bail out a water-logged yacht Rural editor—Martha, here's a big head of' cabbage that Abe Jackson left at elle office to -day. Hie wife—You ought to have kept it at the office. Editor—Why? His wife — Then there would have been some sense hi your veriting " we " insteed of "I." " There is too much noise in here," wenn- ingly remarked a policeman to the Proprie- tor of a down town saloon. " Sure it's me - self knows that," said the proprietor, apolo- getically, "but phat can Ot do? The byes - do be dhrinkild that hatred they don't know phat's wrong wid 'em an' they're seaman' fer a war wid Canada over this here fish- eries foight. Oi'd quiet 'em soon enough if 01 knew how." A curious oath hail just been dsoided upon appeal in a Scottish court. A young woman brought an action of broach of promise against a young man who admitted having been engaged to her. His defence was that she obj %Med to his smoking and finally said, "Choose between your ciger and me.* He made the choice in favor of tie weed, arid when she sued him the judge held that by offering the alternative she was responsible for the SWPAI1173 desertion, and the superiar (mutt sustained the decision. A very stylish drese for a young lady is of plain and fancy silk. The skirt is of the plain silk ; the front of the fancy goods, in very elaborate/7 draped folds, The sides are plain from:the edge of the basque to the bottom of the skirt; the back is in very full box -plaits, slightly draped. The body Is plain, with vest and wide revers of the fancy material, like the apron front ; the collar is plain. The sleeves are full from shoulder to elbow, and plain from the elbow to the wrist. Bantle of handsome trimming aro set on th'e neck below the collar, aintmd the sleeveat the elbow, and fall from either side of the front from the baeque point ever the plain side plecea. Bears have not so good a chance in prey- ing on horses, as they are too slow for these swift -footed animals; but a mountain lion can easily) catch it horse, says a Colorado despatch to the St, Louis Glebe-Demo...won An Incident of this kind recently occurred hit South Perk, at August Lesenberg's renehk, near the head of Michigan Creek. A large lion attacked two horses and it colt of this range, killing the colt and badly wounding the mother and a two year-old. The mare and the lion waged a terrible fight, for the f mother made a hard struggle to save her 'e•-• colt. Tho mare bore evidencea of this almost unequal contest with the lion, for she ,was beetle scrstched and her ears were splio. In pawing at the lion the latter had leaped upon her back, and on17 by a terrible efiert did she save herself. She was bleed- ing from various woanela when found in the morning. The colt was dead, and the mare . was nearly exhausted from the result of her struggle with the lion. The twe-year-old oolt was also badly scratched, but escaped. The Thrash. The song-thrueh, or movie, is caw of the best-known and beet -loved of British song- birds, and with reason, as not only is it one of the best of singere, but, with the ex- ception ot its cousin, the missel-thrush, or storm-coek, as it i celled in some countries, it is the first bird that by it song suggests the eoming spring. No sooner has the new year begun than, given it few warm dam the thrush may be heard from its favourite post, on one of the higher branches of a tree, piping—in half-hearted manner, it is tniXtt and as if it were almost ashamed of its pre- sumption, but still delightfully. As it Lon- don bird the thrush is far from uncommon, being found in all the parks and in most of the larger gardens and pleasure -grounds of the inner suburbs, where houses are fewer. and gardens more pleatiful, this bird is al- most as common as it is in the country. It is esientially a "homely" bird, fond of human society, as is proved ley the fact that it will nest in gardens, of ten close t� much - frequented paths. Ucdike meat birds---song- sters—the thrush has a song which can be translated into words, no doubt nonsensical, but nevertheless conveying the song exactly —in face, to cetiote the late Frank Backland, the bird does sing the following words.— " Knee'deep, knee deep, knee deep; cherry du, cherry du, cherry du, cherry du ; pretty joey, pretty joey, pretty joey." • guriosity Fully Satisfied. Small man (on railway train, writing letter to his wife) —It would afford you some amusement, my dear, if you could see the freekle-faoed long, lean, gamble-shanked, knock-kneed, sneaking, impertinent, ill-bred half.breked specimen of it backwoods gawky that is looking over my shoulder as I write •this— Large man on seat behind (fiercely)--Teu lie; you little scoun— , Small man (berning round)—Beg pardopli, sir; are you speaking to me ? Large man (confusedly)—Y—no 1 No 1 I didn't say anything. I wasn't speaking. Small man resurnee his Writing. .Large man goes book- to the lode) platform of the last car on the train and relieves his mind by severing volubly at the flyipg landscape. SurpriSing Ignorance. Jeff (a railroad paesenger)-1 say, Clemo wha—what itt cie ax ate saw hangin' up dar Itt'? Clem—When yo' arsk foolieh questions, Jeff; don't shout ao's yo' kin be /leered all de way fir= de cow,ketcher to do larst 'sta- tion, Day's Lo' entail' railroad aan'tvkhes. Ise 'eprised yo' ignorunce. Nearly Mt new winter dreesee are inade With sleeves in more or less 'fanciful style, andtlie fenalnuerso,saroUnd the armhole maaedfta Clean Oil elletha with milk and. water; soap and brush will ruin them.