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KERSHAM MANOR. CHAPTKlt X XVIII. yilll.'s koVC.H. "Phil ! Phil : Don't you know me ?" Ksther had snatched hr hat from a nail a* he ran downstairs, and now *iood in the open stre t, arresting the father and laugli- ter on their homeward wy. The girl wat erect a* a dart ; her mouth was still rigidly set, and her g-at eyet looked iiii'i Kuher's face without the -.lighten sign of recogni- tion. K.ther hail iild out h.-r hind, but I'hillis Wyatt's fingers were locked within her father's and would not move. "No," she said, in a voice at u mender st her looks. "I do not know you. ' " Look at me," SAI 1 Ksther eiig'-rly. Don't you remember? lam Kuhir Ktlher Denison, who used to play with yu at Woodbu'y, when we were children 1 Don't you remember coming to see us on the night wheu we arrived? Where are your grandfather and grandmother, Phil'.' Vuu must not say that you forget me wiien I re- member you so well." Ksther was unusually excited, and the I " usad to know her when wewereohil- dren," said Ksther, with some surprise. "And you are goin s ' to know her now?" His tone was decided : he hvl evidently made up his mind that she wat to do it whuther she liked it or not. "I'm sure you are." If s'ie will let me" "Now you have, with your usutl acumen. iezed up'ni the very heart of the inaltei. It'* jnst that if she will let yon! I never knew anybody who was o determined to have no friends as Mils Wyalt. Her pride! it's tremendou*. It's ridiculous, in fait. An 1 yt 1 don't know but what one likes her tne bettor for it." And Jack's eyes grow soft with a yearning for vrnpithy, and in unspoken question that Ktther was to answer. I think it shows that she is strong and brave a-il in lep mdent. " H did not show that she wat amiable: but Ksther reserved her opinion on this point. "His she no friends at all '." I never heard that she had," said Jack color came and went in her checks. For a gloomily; "and I think I should have known, moment Phil looked straight into her eyes, That is why I came to you as soon a* I then Ksther knew, a* well a* if (he had , heard that yon had been speaking to her. been told in word", that Phillis Wyatt re- j I want you to do something for me. Miss numbered her perfectly, but did not choose i Denison. Oh, not to speak abiat me, or to show thst she remembered. I anything of that sort" lack's face betray- "Phil," said Kilher reproachfully, " it i' ed confusion "but to notice, to find out, not that you have forgotten, it is that you whether she is really really in want, you i know. That wretched old tatW of hers is an awful brute spends every penny on \ drink that he can lay hold of; and if there do not care!" A Dicker of some strange emotion passed over the girl's tace. "I can't wait, 1 am orry tosay," she anything said Imldly. "I am taking my father home." 'money. if you co "May J come lo see you some time?" letting her know " Ksther asked. "Oh yes, if you choose. 1 shall most likely be out," Phillis answered proudly. There was something childish in her defiance after all. "I won't detain you," Rsihcr said, drawing back. "I see that you want u that one could do, with > il 1 tell mi without get home. Hut will you tell me where you live ? ' "It's the top flat, Number Kight, Forth Building*," Phil replis 1, without looking at her. The name it OP the door." <;ood-by." said Ktther siilly. She telt disheartened by her old friend's coldness, and the tears came into her eye* as she held out her hand. But Phillis would uot ' I will do my b;t," said Rsther gravely , " but if nhe is as proud a* yon think her she is not likely to accept help frcm any one." "She might take from a wo-nan what she i I wouldn't from a man, don'i y i think ?" 9 " P.Miibly ; one can but try. I ni' must know iier better before I promise to do Miii'-h." Her hand was taken and pressed with a warmth which seemed disproportionate to the smallneM of the service Kslhcr had prof- ered. % Meanwhile Phillis Wyalt had gone with her father through a mare of back street* j to the lodging whio i she called her home. . She had areat iltfit Miltv in irettini? him UD take any notice. 1 She had great difficulty in i-enin^; him up A youthful reporter had Uen dispatched | the ,j v flight* of stone slept at ihe top of by his coadjutors to see why Miss Denison , wnic h her " flat " wa* situaied. He sat had tied in so unaccountable in so unaccountable a manner, and electrified (hem on his return by the information that she was "hobnobbing with the Wyatls in the street. ' This com- munication was made in a low tone, and Mr. Hasiatr., suited in a digmflad silence at his desk, did not apparently take any notice of it But he heard it, aud saluted kather with an inquiring twinkle of his eyes, when ihe returned to the Kvening down several times and refused to move. She wa* not (low in *peech, nor apt to mince matter* when stirred to wrath. She spoke very sharply a* he sat helplessly on the step*, with hands hanging and hat on one side of hi* head, a pitiable object. She had not strength of arm wherewith to force her father up the stair ; but by dint of stinging words she got him home at last. Their fUl const -ti-d of three small Gazette office on her way to her own little roomi very . p re l, f urm shed : the kitchen den. Possibly ho might have asked her a ' question if it hvl not been that at that moment the door of an inner room opened, and the chief proprietor of the paper* king ot the place canu forth in conference with the editor of the Chronicle, and in presence of these two authorities all head* were bent industriously over desks and tables, and silence was restored. Memories of her childhood were always dear to her. For this reason nhe wa* especially grieved when Phillis Wyatl re- ceived her advances so coldly. She had so often dreamed of Phil. rather suddenly. Phil "aside by her grandparent* just about the time when Mr. Denison quitted U'nodhury. The children had written to each other once or twice ; then the correspondence languished. Ksther expected Phillis to return to Woodbury ; but Iwfore long she heard that Mr. ami Mrs. Neave had left the town. Mr. Neave had had losses in business ; indeed, some |>"<>ple said that he wa bankrupt, but Ksther never ascertained the truth or falsehood of this story. Cer- tain it was that the Neaves were gone, and Phillis with them; and during all ihe years that had elapsed Kslher hail never heard of her friend again She was pale and depressed with die- appointment when she came out of the dressing. room and prepared to go down- Uir* to the street. Bui in the passage ihe encountered Mr. Jack Drummond, agenlle- man whom she did not expert to meet, because he was on the staff of the Chronicle, and was not due at the otfioe until later in the afternoon. He turned round upon her quickly when In- HAW her, and held out hi* hand. Kilhrr took it with some surprise. She had larn- ed by degrees that a friendly nod was the only greeting expected from her, and that wilh a press-bed in it where Phillis slept her father's room : knd a bar* little pirlor, which nobody used at all. Phillis's earn- ings raised them above destitution, and there wai no need for Henry Wyatt to de- vise modes of cheating Sir. Hwlam out of a few shillings. He earned nothing for himself, however, and Pnillis would not give him money to spend on drink. He was a clog upon her, but she never even thought ol abandoning him to his fate. She would work for him as long as she had .strength ; but it sometime* seemed to her They had parted M though her strength would fail in the was taken to the | a,,,,*,,, strife with circumstance, the hop.. less baltle that was all she knew of life. She law him safely laid on his tied, and then she got food ready aud brought it to him. When she had taken w.iy the remnant* of her father's meal, she ought to have eaten her own. She always attended to her father's dinner fir*'. 1'ut. on this day she stood looking at tha food for a minute or two, and then turned from it with a shudder of sick abhorrence. She could not eat; she occupied herself in washing the dishes and putting them away without swallowing a morsel. When she had done her w >r'<, her hands dropped idly to her sides, and her face grew very white. She stood g i/.mg at the floor for a little time ; the circles round her eyes seemed to grow mure lividly vio- let than ever, a slightly bluish tinge showed itself round her lips. She knew what was the matter ; she had done too much that day ; she had excited herself, spoken angrily, struggled wilh her father. Then she had eaten nothing sines morning. She wa* going to fainl that was all, She dragged herself to the bed, and threw her- shaking hand* wa* looked on a* a waste of time and energy in the office. Bui .lack Drnminoiid nol only shook her band, he held it quite affectionately. " How are you ?" he said, as if she wore an old friend whom he had not seen for year*. Hi* voice was peculiarly sympathetic, oft, and melodious, yet deep; In- could use ' eyei and tender oustretch^d bands, saying, it like a trumpet on occasion! and subdue " Phil, Phil, do you not remember me?" it to the teudercst of murmurs when he wanted to bo gently impressive. When K^tliur knew him better, she used to tell him that he had an Irish voice; but here- self down upon it, straight, pale, inanimate, like a woman already di- id. For a few minutes the room wat black to her ; she lost consciousness. When she came to herself again, she wa* very cold and very miserable. It seemed to her as though Kitiier were still before her, with loving plied that Ibis remark only proved ' and that although she would have given all the world to speak, a power stronger than her own had sealed her lip<. She turned her face to the wall, and lay t'lere, her | shaken with long-drawn miserable, des- ignorance, and that she meant 'thai lie had pairing sobs. good Celtic blood in hisj/ Iwing, indeed, quite three-fourths of a wild Ilielan'min j afterward informed Ksther, Phil Wyatt I I Hut at seven o'clock, aa Jack Drummond un. I thai il was from ihe Uaelir Celt* that was at her post at the door of the dress- circle, mnirlly dressed, sharp-wilted and sharp-tongued as ntaal, with a basket of programmes in her hand and a neat answer is mat i he derived his musical voice and Ills ready tongue, "llownr. you?" he said. "I waited for you in the passage. I knew you were just 1 ready for every witty remark that the putting nn your hat. Do you mind .omirg golden youtli ol 1 Kinross choose to address in hem OIIH moment? I won't detain you to her. Smiling, jesting, Ilirting what long." Ho led her by the hand into a little ide-room, on the door of which "Siili-Kdi- tors' Room" was painted in large M irk letters. Al preset!', however, it was desert- mi, and Ksther looked round it with some natural feminine curiosity, as she had never penetrated the** sacrsd precincts before. There wat nothing much to see. however, o her eyes ravened to Jack Drummoud, who, having, shut the door, now set his ba.-k against it, and eyed her earnestly from be- neath his shaggy brows. "Mm Denison," he said impressively,' "1 believe that you are a kind-hearted woman." Ksther's brows went upa little. "Possibly, some-limes," she said. "And a sincere one," "Cynics lay that no woman is sincere," "Ah 1 bat you're not a cynic, Mis* Deni- son; neither am I. They tell mi I've just heard -tkt you wsre speaking to MIH Wyatt In the street as if you knew her." remained of the while lipped girl with haggard eyes who had sobbed her heart out that afternoon over her father's degrad- ation over hoi own, perhaps, is well ? Which was the Phil that Kit her hid known and loved long years ago? CHAPTER XXIX. IIII.'M STORY. Esther had been eight months in Dun ross, and the treacherous sunshine, the vicious east winds of a Scotch May, led her to think regretfully of the exquisite warmth and brightness which she had enjoyed so keenly on the North African coast when, a little more than twelve months ago, ihe h ad been dispatched by Mn La. Touche to bring Nina. upatcl Malet borne. Mrs. Sibaitun Mtll had been only too happy to linger a little on her way to Kng- land. It wa* the end of May when ihe left Algeria, it wi the middle of July before i he reached Kersliam. Paris hid been s , delightful that she had stayed there quite three weeks, and only the heat diove her away at I in. On Arriving at the Dower Housu, it wa* found that N'tna and her babies an I their nurses lookup so mu.;n room that even the tohool-room would have to be sacrificed. Cecily had a holiday ; the temporary Mt lernoiielle went away for a time ; Knher packed up the few goods that *he called her own, and went with them to Miss Meredith's for a fortnight. But she was restless, with the reit- letsne** 'hat come* of a secret sorrow. There wa* something at her heart that would not be stilled. Ignore it as she would, there wa* a gnawing sense of pam.aiickness of life, a* she knew it, which vitiated all her old enjoyments. She would not yield to it. Above all things she drtaded thu she might yield ; she shrank desperately from acknowlsdgiiig that she had received a secret hurt. It, would make it so much morse, she thought, if she gave way. She fought down the pain and the sorrow ; she tried to absorb her-elf in her work. But she could not do this at Kennel's Green, where every face and voice evoked old memories. Change of *ceno might effect what resolution failed to do She resolved to give up her holiday anil set to work at once. It wa* early in August when she arrived at Dunrosi, and she had not been to Kugland since. Her remedy seemed to have been success- ful. She had crushed down her heart and her love with it. and spent no time in mourning over what was lost. Shs worked nard, and was resolutely cheerful. She was almost gl^d lhai Xin i wrote to seldom, thai Sebastian never at all. It seemed to her thai il would be good for her never .o hear of ihem again. They had pasted out of her life She thought that she ha 1 been or some service to them ; if so she wat glad of it, but it wa* better that she should see and think of them no more. They belonged to the past. Nevertheless, a*d in spite of all good resolutions, her heart beat and her hands trembled one day as he read a letter from Mis* Meredith, who prided herself on her epistolary powers and on giving a complete resume of me village new*. Nina is back again." (he wrote, " and her husband not with her, of course. I do not at all like the way in which she speaks of him. It Hcems that he had been re idairf and writing a great deal more than he used to do ; I believe he thinks o.' bringing out a bo >k of hn uncle's letter and memoranda ; ind Nina complains that he neglect* her. He is doming to Kugland in the autumn, however, for a long holiday, and I think that he will take bis wife to the lakes or even to .Votlatid. (It would In very p'eai- ant if '.hey came to*ee yon, dear.) They will not go to Kersham Manor, %ltliough I hear thai, the Squire has invit- I them; but Nina is very uncivil to Mrs. Malet, espe- cially since the birth of the lillleboy, which is exceedingly illlv of her, and cm do no- body any good. No doubt it was annoying both to her and to Sebaitian to hear of the fussmtde about the 'young heir', ai people insisted on calling him ; bat it is always better to hide that tort of feeling. Mrs. L. Touc'tie does not wanl them at the D >w -r House, as ' the dtar Colonel' i* actually roming home at last ; and, between our- selves,! believe that Mr*. La Touche iiquite nervous about the chiingos that he will pro- bably make in her life. She says that he talks of going abroad ; and if so, her house can 'no longer be a home for poor dear Nina aud her children.' I (ay, all the bet- r : for Nina depends too much on her mother and not en > ;h upon her husband. Depend upon it, .n/ ilear, these love- matches very seldom come to good A hus- band ami wife may be too fond of each other .o be happy. Mrs. Malaprop wat quite right ; and at any rate, it's better to begin than to end with a little aversion. '' Ktther folded up the letter with a sigh. She could do nothing to help the friendt that she loved so well. She could not even pray. For the outer rind of rilual had slipped awty from her faith she scarcely knew how or why and the faiiK itself, she found, was dead at heart. The old emotion al life beiing gone, ihe had worn out her power! of fee'ing ; her old ecstasiei, her traniport* of lovi-and joy had vanished like dew from a flower when the sun is high. She had been brooding over thoughts like these on the day when (he received Miss Meredith'* letter, and being already de- pressed was piru.'uUrlv open to the shock of pain which il give her. She found her- sell so cut down, so unstrung, that she tool herself seriously t > task, and began to devise remedies for her evil cso. It * t a commonplaiw maxim, much insisted on iu ier childish day, that by trying to cure other people ssa I ness we may cure our own. Shesmiledat its triteness, but roseup imme- diately to put it into practice. She would see Philhi Wyatt, and try again to mkke friends with hr, It wat a diffi- cult and rather disagreeable duty ; there- fore, Ksther argued, one vhat might bring satisfaction in th* performance. There was a remnant of Puritan harjne*s in the argument. Kit her looked anything but hard as she set out upou her errand, which, after all, he but dimly suspected lo be an errand of mercy. Her eye* had grown very sofl of lale, when she wa* deep iu thought ; they lent a look of pleading satinets to her facu which added to its charm. She was a woman whom other women trusted ; her gantle eyes, her steady mouth, invited confidence, and her sympathy was never wanting when required. If she could ti"t gain Poll Wyatt's heart, it Was pretty safe to assort that no other woman ever would. It wai four o'clock when she mounted the stairs to the Wyatts' little flat, lack Drummond had told her that at this hour she was almost sure to Mm) Phillis at home. She rang the bell with some trepidation ; would Phillis be sorry that she ha1 come? Phillu ivrt unlv did not look glad. Sh* herself opened the door, and stood with her hand on the door-knob, firm, straight, an- conciliatory, with a look on her unsmiling face which said as plainly as a look could ay : " What have yon come for?" " How are you, 1'hillii?" said Estber, ex- tending her hand. " You laid lhal I might come to lee you if I likrd." Phillii let three tiff fingers be thaken. "Certainly, c.nnu in,' 1 ihe said. And she stood aside to lei Kslher paia. When ihe doo>- wa* shut, the narrow pasiftge was very dark. Phillis opened the door of the chilly little sitting-room and bade her guMt enter. The room wai cold yet close ; it wa* poorly furniihed wilh a round table, a horse-hair covered *ofa and three chair* to match. Ktther sal down on one of I he chain, and I 'hi II is look another. The girl crossed her hands in her Up, and sat with her f ale, rigid face turned toward the win- dowaway from Ksther. There was an ominous tightening of her lips, a perceptible larkening of the hazel eyes. But ihe smiled, as if in defiance, when Esther spoke lo 1 You have a view of the river, I *ee." Either could, tor ihe moment, find noth- ing but trivial word* to say. " I suppose *o. I haven't tint to look at it. I Yoa are very buty ?" 'Almnet a* busy a* yon are yourself, Miss Denison." A look of pvn pitaid over Either'* face. Phillis saw it and was delighted. She had made up her mind that Either wanted to Mtronize her, and she would not b pat- ronized. " Phil," laid Hither pleadingiy. " Ye Miss Denison." " Phil, don't call m3 that., (.'ill me Es- ther, at you used to do. Hava you quite orgotten me ? ' i >h, dear, no,' si 1 Phil, with a cool smile. " I have* very good memory." ' Then don't you rem*inbar how fond I was of you? And you were fond of me too. We were children then, but I never ceased to love you." We were children then," I'hillis antwer- ed with emphasis. " We liked manv things then that we do nol car- for now. I should not have thought then that I should like to ue a tort of maid-of all-wrrk at a theater, but you see I do like it now." ' You like your wjrk? Yoa ara hippy in it?" Oh yes. I like it belter than anything in the world. I am as happy at it u pos- sible for a girl to be." What hava you to do at the theater?" said Either, le 1 on to the qaettion by the puzzling expression ol the pretty face before her. ' All sorts nf thing*.," said Phil, with a triumphant air. "I am hired by the manager, you know.aa a 'general utility' person. Tney say that I'm peculiar to S-otUnd ; that only in a Scotch town can you find a person who is able and willing to sell programmes, take ladies' wrapi in the cloak-room, ling a comic song, dance a break-down when wanted, and help to ssrub the boirds ami iilish the furniture in the day-time. Oh 'm very useful to Mr. Macalister. He lays I'm like the man iu the long, I'm so vena- tile. And I like variety." Thi speech j irred on Ktther's ear. She listened gravely, not conscious that she wa* looking grave until Phil burst into a wild laugh. Pnillis, when did you leave your grind- motner?" "When my father came forme, of course. Wha*. you want the whole history? We left Woodbury, you know, when my grand- Father failed, and we lived in L >i loo for a time, Iir-t in Bloomsbury, and then iu a diimsl street in Whitechtpel. (Grand- father's mind gave way; he was paraly^-d and imbecile. (Grandmother did nothing but cry I think her mind went too before very long. I was ill; I had one illness after another, till everybody thought that I should die. Oh, it was a merry time ! Km 1 would nol die. 1 said that I wpuld live ; 1 said that I would work whether I was ill or not, and I had my own way. When 1 was sixteen, I got taken on at a theater as a chorus-girl. I could always sing, you know. And it was better lo do work like that than to see grandfather and grandmother starving, wasn't it? al- though it might not be v*ry respectable!" She Hung the word at Ksther as if it were a stone and she wished it to hurt. But Ksther only said, "You were quite right Phil dear," and looked at her with steady loving eyes which never wavered in their gaze. In spite of herself, Phil's tone was low- e-ed a* she went on. "Then grandf ther lied. (Grandmother and I went on living together. I was obliged to give up the chorus-singing for a time, because (he was o feeble that I could not leave her at nights, she was quite childish at last, and could not move herself. I did every- thing for her until she died." The girl'* lip* trembled, her eyes swam in sudden lean. "She did not know me for weeks toward the end. She was alwayi scolding and complaining of me. She used to tell the neighbors that I ill-treated her. Poor old grandmother > I was working my fingers to tn bone for her all the time, and she never knew. I did plain sewing for shops. Do you know that they used to give u* twopence-halfpenny a shirt, and we had to find our own thread? I would sooner have sold flowers or sung in the streets; but I couldn't leave grand- mother. 1 was eighteen when she died.' "What did you do then, Phil?" The softness passed out of the girl's eye* and voice. "What did I do ?" she laid sharply. "You may well ask that. You were safe away at a boarding-school, I suppose, hardly alii wed to walk oul by yourself, well-housed and wall-clad, and I was miming about the itreel* in arch of a morsel of bread. Oh, 1 cnuld take care of myself if it came to that. I've a tongue in my head and wits of my own. if I haven't a strong arm ; and I've defended myself with my tongue many a time when 1 hadn't any other Wf.i|> >u, I 'kept myself respectable. ' a* the poor people *ay. You needn't be afraid to come near me on .hat score. But oh, the things that I've seen and heard in the wicked, brazen London streets ! My grand father used to talk about a Cod ; your father uted to preach about Him. Ksther, but don't, you think that if He had any power. He would put a stop to all tha terrible things that go on in this great, dreadful wond ?" II was the first time thai sho had called Ksther by that name. Ksther drew closer le her, ami ventured to lake her hand, but Phillis took no notice of the caress. (TO Bit OlINTINOtD.) He that wrestles with us strengthens our nerves and sharpen* our skill. Our antago nist i* our helper. Character is not cut in marble, it i* not something solid and unalterable. It i* sonu thing living and changing, and may become dine used as our bodies do. Whoso neglect* a thing which he suspect* he ought to do, because it seem* to him too small a thing.is deceiving himself ; it is not too little, but too great for him, that he doeth it nol. Many ideas grow better when transplant ed into another mind, than in the one whers they sprung up. That which wa* > weed iu one intelligence becomes a flower in the other, and a flower again dwindles down to a mere weed by ihe change. TWO TRAVELLERS, Stragfle in a fiailway Tunnel- 4 W..-I Ji-luri- BessUtlBf I r.m Ihr HuroVr ' Mr. riffs '> WIIIIT A writer in Chambers 1 ! Journal in an article on " The Iron Ron? " relales the fol. lowing singular adventure. Some of our reader* may remembeer the muriier, in a first claw compartment, of the unfortunate Mr. Brings by the Herman Muller. A wave of tragic norror passed over all respectable traveller! in or near London, and. it it said, greatly lessened the numbers of the first- <:las ticket- holders. However that may be, it happened that a Mr. Wilson took his teat in a tim claat compartment at Cannon .Street Station on the afternoon of the day succeeding that terrible crime. The friend who saw him off rrmtrkedon hishavingthe compartment to himself.adding that he was not likely ID bs troubled with compioy oa account of yesterday's catastrophe. Ac- cordingly, the pause at London Bridge had been mule without any one entering Mr Wilson'* carriage, and the train was in mo* ion again, when the doer flew open, and a man rushe. 1 . ic. and was flung into a seat by the marling of thaengm-. Mu'-h wrap- ped up, with his ht crushe 1 down over h forehead. hU height and appearance at once suggested to Mr. A'Uson thu he was shut in with Muller himaeif. The resolute nonth and pointed chin th3 only features dis- tinctly visible Milled with the DKS<-KIPTIONS OF TBB MI'RDBRER, of which Mr. Wilson's mind wa full From behind the shelter of the Times newspaper he eontmned to observe the newcomer ami to compare item by item his sppearanra with the description in the columns before) him. Kver and anon, while so engaged, his eves met she wsver'ng glances of the stran- ger, lull ef ominous meaning to it teemed to him and when he rose, unbuttoned hi* overcoat, and consulted a handsome gold watch with pendent seals, Mr. Wunon thought he saw before his eye the very property of the unhappy Mr. Kriggs. Reason is a light rider, and easily thrown when Imagiua'.ion runs away with it. and fear, thoug'i i. m*y brace for a moment the sinews of the body, r.-Uxe- tho-e of the mind ; so, whtn the stranger moved along the carriage, seated himself opposite Mr. \ViKon. and asked, in a hesitating guttural voice in every toneof which Mr. Wilson heard the accent of the Teuton if " they were not limed U> run ihirty in. antes with- out stopping ?" Mr. Wilson could only nod his tongue clave to the root of hi* mouth, and his eyes could not withdraw their gaze from the grey orbs opposite. While the two men sat thus, glaring at each othr, the train dahed with a pro- longed s ream intd the 8 - tunne', and the carnage was instantly in total dark- nees. At that moment Mr. Wilson's wrisu were 8KI/.ID WITH A CRl-T <)t IRON. Deprived of the power of resistance, he sat preparing h'nuelf for the death-struggle a* best he might, his hands held as in a vice, his eye* straining tnrough the tiarkue**, a cold sweat oozing at every pore. As he sat thus, it tinned into his miiid that hi* assailant would probably wait for a glim- mer of light before aiming his detth-blow. As he thought thu, they were out into the daylight, glaring v each other and gasping. Then Mr. Wilson felt his enemy's hand* re- lax, and heard him aay in an interrupted voice : " I beg your pardon ; I'm afraid I've startled you. The tact is the plain truth I di l.i t like your looks, and the way you tid your face behind that paper and watch- ed me. I suppose my mind is full of this lorrible murder. I see now I wat mis- taken. Bui pardon me : 1 re illy began to think you might be Muller !" With a half- lysterical laugh, Mr. Wilton responded ; And I've been in an awful funk, for that'* just who I thought you were !'" In this in- itance, prejudice yielded to tiie knowledge rained by travel : for before they reaolied Si -- , the seeds of a friendship, still flour- shinu,were *on in the minds ol the-e two wayfarers on the Iron Road. A HTK AVVK t Tfce rls* nf !' Warqtalt eVCgavllle Be vet a sti-iM irkahlf 'hararlrr Mis-sit lave ro.r4 as f !>- A Paris special say* : " A remarkable character has pawed away in the Marquis d'Kguille, who might have pasted for the hero (or viliian) of one of Alexandra Du- mas' romances. He had, according to hi* account, been condemned to death in most countries for political or other orfencss, and although he mt y have exaggerated his ex- ploit* in this direction, it is certain that he wa* the man who followed the late M. Blanc, of Uomburg, into hi* sanctum, gagged him, anil threatened to blow his brains out if he did not hand over a large sum. He turned the key in the door wheu he had got inside, and was well away be- fore M. Blanc was released. At Sps, upon one occasion, while playing, he noticed a little Belgian " militaire " wilh immense moustache*, whereupon he observed in a loud tone to a fiieud : " Ave/.-vouz jamais vn de si grardes moustaches sur nn si petit corp* T" The little Belgian was, of course, furious, challenged d'Kguille, and was badly wounded. Many yr* ago at Prei- burg during the race meeting there he had a roulette tble of his own, ami when the I'arliat war was going on in the north of Spain, he wa* just aero** the French frontier at Irun, or ruher upon it* out- skirts, where he had started a small casino, in humble imitation of his old friend, M. Blanc. However, a* his estab- lishment was raided in turn by the t't- rists and Alphonsists, he found that it did not pay, and since then the old Marquise, whoec family is an ancient one, and parchments unimpeachable, had found it no easy matter to do what Abbe Sieye* said that he had done during the Revo- ution namely, live. Klsie " Yesterday mornu.g 1 gave a poor tramp those nice biscuits I made for break- fast, and 1 told him if he came back in the evening, I would give him Rome dinner." Jack " What did you give him for din- ner ?" Elsie "He didn't come back.'' How little our knowledge of mankind i* derived from intentional, accurate observa- tion ! Most of it hat, unsought, found it* way n to the mind from the continual pre- sentation of the objects to our unthinking view. It i* a knowledge of sensation more than of reflection.