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â€" ~j,Vi,J. ««(!(*. I i.i^t.j[j. . V *k *** ^r y^ â-  i. i 'A Hake Mer rillow Kon. "Sir! »rc yim the uiidertftkor Tbat buries thu paiiptir di'ad? Ttiou you are to (utch iny Marf - For that'll what the tlo<-ti>r kaid. lou !«â- Â«â€¢. Iain po-iiau' freu'lvu, Ku lame from h cruei (all. An' the aiekue^H an' the initdiciuo Has takeu our uioney all. f"*â€" • I'gh -ugh ex.iiHfthlrfJiackiuio It luakea iiiH aliiw to Ktieak, I am triiubltMl t\ itli a c.»i«h, hir, Au' biith inv i-vesare weak: It a Kittitl' up all lilijht. ail;, A-watcbhr at (loathK door - Veh. yea I I kuiin I'lii tediaus, Ifh tt>diuuH to be jK")r. ^ " What do I Maiit .' .>uiit wa(t, air, I'lli coiniu' |o Ilint aaliit*. Vliatdid Marv .liHot? Huuffer and coM. Her lialllQ? I \t» told her unnifâ€" my Mary -i I'll bet it down for yoti ; ** a She diml laHt ni(;lit in inv Kriiil^*flr, We were aloneâ€" we two. < â- '•^\ â-  â-  An I want !<' ask a favor: ,. .'' When you make my Mary'a Hed I'leatie -make -herâ€" pillow -aoU. Hir. Soft for her achln' head, 1 Ituow it'H tinnu with the achin' All' all that hinted it oft. Itiit twill comfort nie a bit, air, If >ui] iimkeâ€" her- jiillowâ€" Koft." The undertaker heard hliii .\nd hilent turned away; hilt he made poor Mary'a pillow With u-ndi r harida that day. And (>ft4*n aomethiiiK choked him \» of riHinij tearn â€"and oft H«- heard throiifih the tap of the hammers " J'lease makeâ€" her^iillow -aoft.'*" â€"Sim U. L. Uaync. A NOVEL. I'nder Fal*e Colura. lACK KBOSI . am, I'll. vour old friuud iiie back, though you lui^ht Vou don't look, though, Gti'xl da\ . my deai .iiu-k Fro*;, W'Uit In Ixiiind t > (' think hill) lot Here I am ; how d'- edo? tooideaawl. Oh, you tnink I'm :ou fr6<« in my wayâ€" wall, I'm free?,ed ! V . dUVHKWIKK. Oh, my dear Mr Jack, if you only could gueaa \N'hat misi-hief yon cause, 1 ata in such a me*is ! For niv pipuK are all burst, and from ceiliutf to tloor I'm lioode'l don't kuuw what to do, I au iuru. JACK PROST. Ily |{orea» ! really your welcome is cold. It is uut very ofu<a my face you behold ! Now, tell me what aeaA<>n more beauty can ahow Thau luv splendid wblt« carpet of soft fleecy hllOW 7 Mils. HUUHKWIPK. Oh. y<*n. Mr- KriMit, it is jiruttv, I'll own. Hilt itH lH»auty, vou see, sir, stxjuickly is flown ; And llieu how tlie air becomes cutting and raw Aa we Hlop thronuh the slud aud the slush of the thaw * UIK KllDHl. Now. really, you KruniMe without a just cauae. If I do send the frosu, I don't at. '. tfie thaws ; Then just think of your wiudowathatchariuluKly Kleam \\ hen ui> tracery 1 weave, like a fioet'a sweet dream. Mils. HOUHKWIPK. Yes. the windows I will not deny, sir, look nice. Hut the t<ame fri>st will cover my steisi with siU'Nfth ire i I aiu friiihteued to put Iny foot now to the ground. For iii> head follo%'ssult, I too often Imve found. J»lCK FBoaT. I see. nil dear madam, you like to complain. Well, I'll leave for awhile, but I'll onme l>ack attain Slie> Mo Verx tfuMir. 'â- i kind to those Hies vi'r> 111! W^M, Uwiks li«*r stticy ml -. Tlie youiia lolks tliliik alio tiardly kaows Jt(nt wktAl sHw tallfta aImj««S ; ^Im : all th.' WMiI.fi, sl.ove, ' For they brootlht n--arer than a sUir Tllf Itentle iiftllt of love. Ves. she is qtiei'r. we all roiifesa. And yet her wrinkled face Has such a wealth of ttmderness, she needs no (oethful ||raee ; She talks of one so Ioiik away .\nrl hearts so far apart ; She Ha\a it seems but yt^sttirday 7lmi III* was near her heart. "I'ls haril to make her rompreheiid That she has ttild before 'I'lie story of a sailor's end l'|K>n a friendlusH shore. She sa\ M he was to duty true And bravely met hiji ibxiin, Insisting thai his eyes of blue Htm uuhle her through IheKloum. I'erhaiMi when we apprttach the shore Where worldl> Jonrnwysend, We. I'M!, may tell our sttiries o'er And yoiiiiMer eni-s otieiid ; For nt(e has thoiiKhl from youth apart. And only time can Ittatdi Tilt* etoiritv of iiiind and heart That '•iijfhi ir> govern each. •• Not 81 ranger* Tin-re," To whom would heaven's doois so freely open As to a little ehild. Who stand., with tiinid feet iiiion Its threshold, l,ovel\ and lllidehled '/ And siieli nil one, of late, whs lowly lyiiiK, With fust reeedlHU breath ; Over her lace the lirsi, last hIihiIow falling She WH-'i iifraid of death ! Her IovihI once said. ' oh, do not fear to enter That land so wide and fair." To all their words ol cheer she could but answer, " I rio nut know them there!" iillt, even as she spoke, her bun. I.-, wiie llftetl In sudden, sweet surprise. And the tetleetion ol solile dawning Hpleudor Illnined her wondering eyes. NoloiitC'i I lliiKiiiK to her tender watchurs. And darkened bv their woe, Hlie looked ns if she saw some l-ived one beckon, Aad was in haste to t,'o. What she Ixdielil we saw not, and her rapture Our hearts not yet mittht share. Hut witli n laht.brit^htsmilesbewllisperefl itladly, " They are not strauKers llioru ! " The Ho(us Veteran. Mr, Hliiilihy (ienteel " Will you l«) kiiul onoui(li to tell me if it ih a fact that the PresitJi'iit has vetoed tlin I'miHiDii iJill '.'" (ieutleinati "lie has." " Well, if this country ^ets into nnotlu'r war, jiiHt coiiiit ine out. I'll iievor riuk my life a^ain in thu service of my country," " Were yon liurt (luring; tlio war V " Iiidoaa I was." " What regiiiiuiit were yon id '.'' " I WAHii't in any re)jiinenl L , ot tlie I'lieuniatiuin from l)atliin){ in thu H:- Luv/- runce Kiver liming the Henonil<(ltty uf ilio battle of (iettyHhur);. All I Hir, tlioao were tlio tinioii that tried iiien'H Houla. Haven't t{ot a .'<urplu8 dime for an old vet., have yon ?" â€" fern* Niftingt. The near «:hlld's WIsli. Little Toddles " 1 wihIi yon had some NkateB. too. Aunt Meg." Aunt Me^ (wishing to encourage generosity) " You might let me take yours " Little 'I'oddlea "filo; ytm dpn't know what I 111. Hi. I thotii^ht it would he ho nice fii. you to ekalo ahead of mo aud find all th.i weak places in the ioe," Th«ii the Zulus uluiad in upon the dooine^l band, with a shout of " Btilala Umluiigo I" (kill the whitcmao^ Out rang the postol-shotB, aift fire flew from the clash of sworda and assegais, aud still the little band, momentarily growing fewer, fought on with laboring breuth. Never did hope-forsaken men make a more gallant stand. Still they fought, and still they fell, one by one, aqil as they fell were stabbed to death ; but scarcely one of them wa uthere whose death-wound was in his back. At last the remaining Zulus drew back ; they thought that it was done. But no : three men yot stood together upon the very sammit of the mound, 'told- ing Hi.\ foes at bay. The Zalu captain laughed aloud when he saw it, and gave a rapid order. ThereupOU the remaining Zulift formed up, and, stabbing the wounded as they went, departed swiftly over the dead, after the main body of the corps which bad now vanished round the mountain. They left the six to finish the three. Three hundred had come to attack AJston's Horse ; not more than one hundred departotl from that attack. ^The over- I)owored white men had rendered a good account of their foes. The three left alive on the summit of the little hill were, as Fate would have it, Ernest, Jeremy and the ex-sailor, who had complained of the "sargustio" companion, who as it happened had just died by his lile. 'Pheir revolver* were empty ; Ernest's sword had broken off short in the body of a Zulu ; Jeremy still had his sword, aud .ne sailor a dabbed carbine. Presently one of the six Zulus dodged tin uader the carbine and ran the tailor throug 1. Glancing round, Ernest saw his face turn gray. The honest fellow dimi as he had lived, swearing hard. " Ah, you black mate," lie sang out, " take that, and be dâ€" d to you !" The clubbed rifle came down upon the Znla's skull and cracked it to pieces and both (ell deatl together. Now there were five Zulus left, and only Ernest and Jeremy to meet them. But stay : suddenly from under a corpse upriaes another foe. No, it is not a foe, it is Mazooku, who has been shamming dead, hut rtuddenly and most opportunely shows hiiiiHelf to be very much alive. Ailvaiicing from behind he stabs oue of thu attacking party, and kills him. That leaves four. Then he engages another and after a long Htnig^ kills him too, which leaves three. And atUl the two white men stand back to back, with Hashing ayes and ((â- '•ipiuii breath, and .lold their own. Soake<I with blood, desfieratr and expecting death, they were yet a gallant sight to see. 'Vmo of the remaining Zulus runh at the giant Jeremy, one at Ernest. Ernest, having no elTective weapon left, dodges the assegai-thrust, and then closes with his antagonist, and they roll, over and over, down the hill together, stru^^ding for the asscifai th» Zulu holds. Lt tkuays in two, but tne b^atie and about «lt(U« Inohaa ul aliali ranaalB wiM Kmam. ^« drtvaa tt aHrooah tela aniMiiy'a throaa and he dies. Tlien hi'sfriiunlcH U|) to see the ('losing scene of tite ilraiiia, but not in time to help in it. Ma/.ooku has wounded his man badly, and is following to kill him And Jeremy. He has struck at one of the Kafirs with his sword. The blow is received on the e(l|{e of the now hide shield, and sinks half way through it. so that the hide holds the steel fast. With a sharp twist of the shield the weapon is jerkiil luit of his hand, and he is left defenceless, with niithiiiK to trust to except his native struM^th. Hurnly he is lost ! }iut no--witli A Hiiililen rush ho s<n/.es both Zulus by the throat, one in ua<:li liniid and, strong men as they are, swiiins them wide apart. Then with a treinniidoiis effort he jerks their heads together with such awful force that they fall sensuless, and Mazooku comes up mi H|iears thetu. Tims was the tight endml. Ernest and Jeremy sank u|>oii the bloody grass, gasping for breath. The tiring from the direction of the camp had now died away, and, after the tumult, the shouts, and the shrieks of thu dying, the silence seemetl deep. It was the silence of the dead. There they lay. white man and Zulu, side by side in the |>euceablo sunlight ; and in a viigiie, IsAvildered way, ErncHt iiotice<l that the faces which a few mliiiitos before had looked 80 grim, were mostly smiling now. They had passed through the ivory gates and reaciied the land of smiles. How still they all went ! A little black and white bird, such as tly from ant hill to ai.t lull, me and settle<l upon the forehead of a young fellow acarcely more than a boy, and the only son of his innther, who lay quite across two Zulus. The bird knew why he was HO still. Krnest had liked the boy, and knew Ins mother, and began to wonder as he lay paiiliii^ nii the grass what she would feel when she heard of her son's fate. Hut just then Ma/ooku's voice bioke the silence. Ho had been standing staring at the IkkIv of one of the men he had killed, and v^'as now apostrophi/.ing it in Zulu. \h. my brother," he said, " son .if my own father, with whom 1 used to play when I WAS little ; I always told ytni that you were ajierfcct fool with an assegai, but I little llimiHlit that 1 should ever have such II opportunity of proving it to you. Well, it can't he helped ; duty is duty, and family ties nuist ^\\u way to it. Hleep -.veil, my brother ; it was pain^il to have to kill you â€" very." Kriiest lifted himself from the (jiouiid, and lain<he<l the hystorii.al lautjh of shattered nerves at this naive and tlioroiiglily Zulu nioializing. Just then Jeremy nwo and came up to him. He was â- A fearful .ti^ht to see his linnds, his face, his clothes wore all rod -, and he was hloed- im from a rut on the face, and another on thu hand. "Coino, Kriiost," ho said in a hollow voice, " we uiiist ilear out of this." •' I suppose so," said Ernest. On the plain at the foot of the hill several of the horses were ijuielly cropping the glass, till such time as the inferior animal, niii.ii, had settled his differences. Anion); them was Ernest's black stallion, " The Devil I" which had been wounded, though slightly, on the l1,.nk. They 'Aialkcd arm themselves from the weapons whiah layabout. As they passed the body of the man Ernest had killed in his last stru^le for life, he stooped and drew the broken assegai from his throat. " A memento," said he. The horses were caught without difficulty, and "The Devil" and the two next best animals selected. Than they mounted, and rode toward the top of the ridge over which Ernest had seen the body of Zulus lying in reserve. When they were near it Mazook got down and crept to the crest on his stomach. Presently, to their great relief, he signalled to them to advance: the Zulus had moved on, and the valley was deserted. And so the three passed back over the neck, that an hour aud a half before they had crossed with sixty-one companions, who were now all dead. I think we have charmed lives," said Jeremy, presently. All gone except us two. It can't be chance." " It is f(te," said Ktneat, briefly. From the top of the neck they got a view of the camp, which now looked quiet and peaceful, with its white tents and its Union Jack fluttering as usuU in the breeze. They must be nil dead too," said Ernest ; " which «ay shall wo go ?" Then it was that Mazook's knowledge of the country proved of the utmost service to them. Ue had been brought up at a kraal in the immediate neighborhood, and knew every inch of the land. Avoiding the camp altogether, he led them to the left of the battle-field, and after two hours' ride over rough country, brought them to a ford of the Buffalo which he was aojuainted with, some miles below where the few survivors of the massacre stru) gleu across the river, or were drowned in attempting to do so. Following this routt they never sav single Zulu, for these nad all departed the other direction, sod we' > spared the horrors of the stampede aud of " Fugi- tives' Drift." At last they gained the farther side of the river, and were, romparatively speak- ing, safe, on Natal ground. They determined, after much anxious consultation, to make for the little fort at Uelpmakaar, and had ridden ^ont a mile or so toward it, when suddenly the Zulu's quick ear caught the sound of distant firing to their right. It was their enemy the (!ndi corps attacking Korke's Drift. Leaving; Mazook to hold the horses, Ernest and Jeremy dismonnted and climbed a solitary koppie or hill which just there cropped out from the surface of the plain. It was of an ironstone formation, and on the summit lay a huge flat slab of almost fiure ore. Un to this they climbed, and ooked along the course of the river, but could see nothing. lU>rke's Drift was hidden by a rise in the ground. All this time a dense thundercloud had been gathering in the direction of Helpmakaar, and was uow. as is common before sunset in the South African summeraeason, travel- ling rapidly up against the wind, set in a faint rainbow as in a frame. The sun, on the other hand, was sinking toward the horizon, so tliat his golden beams flying across a apaoo of blue sky, impinge>.', upon the black bosom of the cloud, and were reflected thenee in sharp lights and broad shadows. Hunt,' hke celestial spears and ah.nlda acruas the plains of Zululaud. la«>n»ah tn aw < ^ Uuuubkiu wa* touched bv an. «r y « l»S 'Whlofa t^oka |a> jUa*9 iwo'n his savajje rtost, and orownefl him Oii»» day's kin(< of di atli, but the battle-held o'er which ho towereil was draped in gloom. It was a glorious scene. Above, the wild expanse of sky broken up by flaming clouds and tinted with hues such as might be reflcctml ft )m the jewelled walls of heaven. Behind, the an^ry storm, set in its rain- b<iw frame like ebony in a ring of gold. In front, the rolling plain where the tall l^rasaes waved, the broad Buffalo Hashing through it like a silver snake, the sun- kissed mountains, and the shadowed slopes. It was a glorious scene. Nature in her most splendid moo<l Hung all her color- streamers loose across the earth and sky, anil wavetl them wildly ore they vanished nto night's abyss. Life, in his most radiant ecstasy, hla»xl up in varied glory before he sank, like a lover, to sleep awhile in the arms of his eternal mistress Death. Ernest gazed upon it, and it sank to his heart, which, set to Nature's tune rusiKinded over when her hands swept the chords of earth or heaven. It lifted him above the world, and thrilled him with indescribablu emotion. His eyes wandered over the iiiAiiite sjiaco alMive, searching for the presence of a (lod ; then they fell u|K)n Isandhlsvana, and marked the s|Mit just where the shadows were deepest; where his' comrades lay and gazed nisiii the glorious sky with eyes that coulil not see, ami at last his spirit gave way. and, weakeneil with emotion and long toil and abstinence, he burst into a paroxysm of grief. < O Jeremy," he sobbe<l, "they are all dead, all, except you and 1, and I feel a coward that I should still live to weep over them. When it was over, I should have let that Zulu kill me, but 1 was a coward, and 1 fought for my life. Had I but held my hand (or a stx-ond I should have gone with \lston and the others, Jeremy." "dome, coiiie, old fellow, you did your best, and fought the corps like a brick. No man could have done more." Yoa, Jeremy , but I should have died with them ; it was my duty to die. And I do not care about living, and they did. I have betin an nidortunate dog all my life. I shot my cousin, I lost Eva, and now I have seen all my comrades killed, and I, who was their leader, alone oscafied. .\nd lerliag s 1 have not done with my mis- oitunes yet. What next, I wonner ; what noxf.'" Ermst's distress was so acute that Jeremy, liKtking at him and seeing that all le had ^oiu through had boon too much for him, tried t" soothe him, lest he should go into hysterica, by putting his arm round his waist, and jjiving him a good hug. Look here, old chap," ho said ; " it's no use botliering one's heid about these things. Wo are just so many feathers blown about by the wind, and must Hoat where the wind blows us. Hometiiiies it is a good wind, and sometimes a bad one, but on the whole it is bad, and we must just make the best of it, and wait till it doesn't think it worth while to blow our particular feathers about any more, and then wo shall come to the ground, and not till then. And now we must have been up here for more than live minutes, and given the horses a bit of a rest. We must be makaar before dark, and I only hope we shall get th^ before the Zulus, that's all. By Jove, here comes the stormâ€" come on !" - and Jeremy jumped off the lump of iron- ore and began to descend the koppie. Ernest, who had been listening with his face in his hands, rose and followed him in silenoe. As he did so, a breath of ice-cold air from the storm-cloud, which was now right overhead, fanned his hot brow, and when he had gone a few yards he turned to meet it, and to cast one more look at the scene. It was the last earthly landscape he ever saw. For at that instant there leaped from the cloud overhead a fierce stream of jagged light, which struck the mass of iron-ore on which they had been seated, shivered and fused it, and then ran down the side of the hill to the plain. Together with the light- ning there came an ear-splitting crack of thander. Jeremy, who wa* now nearly at the bottom of the little hill, staggered at the shock. When he recovered, he looked up where Ernest had been standing, and could not see him. Ue rushed up the hill again calling him in accents of frantic grief There was no answer. Presently he found him lying on the ground, white and still. CHAPTER XXXVIL THE cLirra or olj> England. It was an April evening ; off the south coast of England, The sun had just made up his mind to struggle out from behind a particularly black shower-cloud, and give that part of the world a lookbefore he bade it good-night. That is lucky," said a little man who was with difficulty hanging on to the bul- wark netting of the R. M.^. Conway Castle ', " now, Mr. Jones, look if you can't sec them in the sunlight." Mr. Jones accordingly looked through his glasses again. " Yes," he said, " I can see the.m distinctly." "8ee what?" asked another passenger coming up. "The cliffs of Old England," answered the little man joyously. " Oh, is that all," said the other ; " curse the cliffs of old England !" " Nice remark that for a man who is going home to be married, eh?" But Mr. Jones had shut up bis glass, and vanished aft. Presently he reached a deck cabin and entered without knocking. "England is in sight, old fellow," he said, addressing somebody who lay bac smoking in a cane-chair. The person addressed made a -novement as though to rise, then put up his hand to a shade that covered his eyes. " 1 forgot," he answered with a smile ; " it will be very much in sight before I oau see it. By-the-way, Jeremy," he went on, nervously, " I want to ask yoa somethint;- These doctors tell such lies." .\nd be removed the shade. " Now, look at my eyes, and tell me honestly, ami disfigured? Are tliey shrunk, I mean, or got a squint, or anything of that sort?"â€" and Krnest turned up his dark orbs, which except that they had ac<)uired that painfal, expectant look pecoliar to the blind, were just as they always had been. Jeremy looked at them, first in one light, then in another. " Well," said Ernest, impatiently, " I can feel that you are staring me out of oouut«uaiice. ' ' " n&mtm K»ehl», rvpHeO t^ 'jknper turbablo ....o. "1 am diâ€" diâ€" dia^osiug the case. There, that will do. To all apiwarance, your optica are as sound as mine. You get a girl to look at them, and see what she says." "Ah, well: that is something to be thankful for." Just then somebody knocked at the cabin-door. It was a steward. " You sent for me. Sir Ernest?" "Oh, yes, I remember. Will yon be so goixi as to find my servant ? I want him." " Yes, Hir Ernest." Ernest moved impatiently. " Confound that fellow with his everlasting ' Sir Ernest' !" " What, haven't you got used to your handle yet ?" " No, I haven't, and I wish it were at Jericho, and that is a fact. It is all your fault, Jeremy. If you had not told that confoundedly garrulous little doctor, who went ami had the information printed in the Natal Mercury, it would never have come out at all. I could have dropi>ed the title ill England ; but now all these i>eopl« know that I am Sir Ernest, and Sir Ernest I shall remain for the rest of my (ays," " Well, lyost piHiple would not think that such a dreadful misfortune." 'â-  Vi's, they would if thoy liapiiencd to shoot the real h 'ir. By-the-way, what did the lawyer say in his letter ? As we are so near home, I supjiose 1 had better post myself up. You will find it in the dis- patch-box. Head it. there's a goo<l fellow." Jeremy oiiened the box, battered with many years of travel, and searched about for the letter. It contaiiie<l a curious col lection of articles â€" prominent among which was a handkerchief, which had once belonged to Eva (leswick ; a long tress of ohestnut hair tied up with a blue ribbon ; ditto of golden, which had come â€" well, not from Eva's trosses ; a whole botanical col- lection of dead flowers, tender souvenirs of goodness knows who, for, after a while, these accumulated dried tpecimeiis are diflicult to identify ; and many letters and other curiosities, r\t last he came to the desired document written in a fair clerk's hand ; and having shovelled back the locks of hair, etc., began to read it aloud : " lir. ErHKLriiKD's Couht, toward the horse*., stopping on thetr way to I j,„,,,i„j, „„ j, ^^ ^^,,4 to get to Ileli; HY, 22nd January, 1879.)" Hir : " You see," broke in Ernest, " while we were fighting over there at Saiishlwana, those beggars wore writing to tell me that 1 was a baronet. " C-'ase of the ' bloody hand' with a ven,'4eance, eh ?" Sir" (began Jeremy again), "r is our ilutv to inform you of Mic deatu, on the Itith of the present mon"i, ^f oiir ostoemed client, Sir HufJ; Kerslia.. , Ban , of Arch- dale Hall, Devonshiie, and of the con- sequent dtvoUitioi. of the baroi\etcy to yourself, as only sou of the late Sir Hiigh's only brother, KrntKt Kershaw, Ekj. Into the c|uo8tion of the unhappy manner in which you came to be plaoeti in tho immodiate succession it ttoos not become iia to enter. We have before us at (his moment a copy of ller Majesty's pordoii, granted to you under the Trans- vaal Amnesty Act, and forwarded to us by Reginald Cardiis, Esq , of Dum'a Ness, Suffolk, which we have neither the 'wish nor the will to dispute. It is clear to us that, under this pardon, yon are totally free from any responsibility for the breach o' tho law which you perpetrated some years since ; and of this it is oar doty to advise yoa. Your title to succeed is a clear one. " As was only to be expected under th« circumstances, the late Sir Hugh did not bear any feeling of good will toward yoo. Indeed, we do not think that we shall be exaggerating if we say that the news of your free pardon materially hastened his end. On the attainment of full age by th* late Hugh Kershaw, Esq., who fell by your hand, the entail of the family estates was cut, and only the mansion-house of Arch- dale Hall, the heirlooms, which are numerous and valuable, therein contained, and the deer-park, consisting of OEM hundred and eighty-five acres of land, wera resettled. These conseiiuently pass to yoo, aud we shall be glad to receiv; your instructions coucerning them, should yoa elect to honor us with your confidence. T'ha estates pass, under the will of the lata baronet, to a distant cousin of his lata wife's, James Smith, Esi]., of o2 Camper- down Boad, Upper Clapham. We now think we have put you in possession of all the facts connected with yoar accession to the baronetcy, and, awaiting your instruc- tions, have the honor to remain, " Yoar obedient servants, (Signed) Paisley Jt Paisley." " Ah, so much for that !" was Ernest's comment. " What am I to do with Arch- dale Hall, its heirlooms, and its deer-park, consisting of one hundred and eighty-fiva acres of land, I wonder ? I shall sell them, if I can. Mine is a pretty position ; â-  baronet with about sixpence half-penny per annum to support my rank on ; a very- pretty position!" " Hamba Uachle," replied Jeremy ; "tine enough to consider all that. But now, as we are on the reading lay, I may as weU give you the benefit of my correapondenca with the oflicer commanding Her Majesty's forces in Natal aud Zululaud." Fire away," remarked Ernest, wearily. First letter, dated Newcastle, Natal, 27th January, from your humble servant to Officer t^ommandiug, etc." " ' Sir " ' I have the honor to report, by order at Lieutenant and Adjutant Kershaw, oC Alston's Uosso, at present incapacitated by lightning from doing so himself "â€" " Very neatly put that, I think," inters polated Jeremy. " Very. Go on." â€" " â-  that on the 22nd inst., Alston's Horse, having received orders to check the flank- ing movement of the I'ndi Corps, pro- ceeded to try and 4o so. Coming to a ridga cemmanding the advance of the Uudi, the corps, by order of their late commander. Captain Alston, dismounted and opened fire on them at a distance of about three hundred yards, with considerable effect. This did not, however, check the Undi, who appeared to number between three aud four thousand men, so Captain Alston issued aa vrder to charge the enemy. This was dona with some success. The Zulus lost a number of men ; the corps, which passed right through the enemy, about twenty troopers. Captain Alston and his son Ro|;er Alston, who acted as his aide-de-oamf. Several horses and one or two men were also severely wounded, which crippled the further muvemeuts of the corps. •• • « I II ,<: -^^ AUiutaut Kershaw, on taJuiiK couitnaud of thq corps, i\«t^.nu^~.Ml to attempt to retreat. In this attempt, however, he failed, owing to tho presence <A dismounted and wounded men ; to the detachment of a botly of about three hundred Zulus to intercept any such, retreat ; and to the presence of a ItkrgB body of Zulus ou the farther side of the Iiass leading to the valley through which such retreat must be conducted. "'Under these circumstances he deter- mined to fight the remainder of the corps to the last, and dismounting them, took (losseusion of a fairly advantageous poai- tiou. A desperate hand-to-hand encounter ensued. It ended in the almost total exter- mination of Alston's Horse, aud in that ol the greater part of the attacking Zulus. The names of the surviving members a£ Alston's Horse are â€" Lieutenant and Adjutant Kershw ; Sergeaut-Major Jeremy Jones; Trooper Mazooku (the only tiativa in the corps.) " • These ultimately cffecteil their escape, the enemy having either been all destroyed or having followed the track of the Undi. Lieutenant and Adjutant Kershaw regrets to have to state that in process of effecting his e8ca{>e he was struck by lightning ana blinded. " ' Ho estimates the total loss inflicted oa the enemy by Alston's Horse at from four huiulre<l to four hundre<l and fifty men. In lace of such determined bravery as was evineed by every one of his late gallant comrades, Lieutenant Kershaw feels that it would be invidious for him to mention any particular names. Every man fought desperately, and diet! with his face to the enemy. He begs to inclose a return of the names of those lost, the accura y of which he cannot, however, guarantee, as it is com- piled from memory, the papers of the corps 'laving all been lost. Trusting that the maniouvres attempted by Lieutenant Ker- shaw under somewhat difficult circnm- stanoes will meet with your approval, I have, etc., " ' By order of Lieutenant Kershaw : (Signed) " ' Jkiiemy Jonks, Sergeaut-Major." (To beooutluued.) How .She Fetched Him. Tho Roston Courier publishes tho follow- ing, evidently for tho benefit of tho ladies : Wife (to husband who is arranging hia toilet at the mirror)- Can't you take aie to tlie opera to-night, dear ? Husband (de- cisivelyiâ€" No ; I cannot, OiMjra indeed t Do you think I am made of money ? AVifo (after a pause)- I don't see any neeii of your sjiending so much time brushing your whiskers, dear. Husband (turning around with an angry glitter in his eye) â€" Why not ? Wife (smilingly) -- Because one brushing is enough, and you are handsome enough without going to all that trouble ; it would be hard for you to make yourself any handsomer, at least in my eyes, than you are natu'-ally, no matter what care yotl give to your toilet. Husband (after com- pleting his toilet) -I'm going down town tor awhile, l!y the way, Ilclla, on second thought, I guess I can managa to get a couple of opera tickets, so you can consider thorgoing settled, Ta, ta. Wife (solus, after his departure)â€" I thought I would fetch him. 1