Chapter 1278774

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Chapter NumberI - IV
Chapter TitleSHOT DEAD.
Chapter Urlhttp://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article1278774
Full Date1867-01-05
Page Number7
Corrections0
Word Count10246
IllustratedN
Last Corrected0000-00-00
Newspaper TitleThe Brisbane Courier (Qld. : 1864 - 1933)
Trove TitleGrantford Grange
article text

GSANTFOSD GBANGE.

.BY MABY KATE DALLAS.

CHAPTEB I.

SHOT DEAD.

(THEOUGH the leafy shadow of some thick woods in the northern part of New York, not many milos from the shores of Lako Ontario, - strode one sunny autumn morning a handsome

gentleman of middle age, who oarried a fowling piece over his shoulder and walked with a rapid step and an evident desire to gam somo destina- tion as speedily ns possible. Sometimos he gave o shrill oall, as though companions were not for off, and listened for on answer with something between a laugh and a frown.

" It's late in tho day for mo to lose my way in theee woods," ho mutterod, as ho walked on. " I wish I had not given them the slip. Where have thoy gone to ? Here-Durmont! Leslie! Groy! Hang tho Mows ! where aro they ?"

The gentlemen thus irreverontly alluded to were either out of hearing or disinclined to re- ply ; but almost as he spoke a slender, boyish form parted tho bronchos and stopped direotly in his path, where he stood almost motionless. Ho was a handsome young fcUow, who would have been exceedingly gontlomanly but for a cortain diBBipatod look whioh marrod tho effect of fine feature", splendid coloring, and graceful form; and the likeness between the two men betokened kinship, but that they were not in consequence friends was evident from the scowl which settled upon the faco of tho oidor gentle- woman as he recognised the new-comer, as woU as sjiy the words :

" What do you want hero, sir ?"

The younger man repliod humbly enough :

" I wanted to Beo you, uncle, and wont to the Grange. You were out, and I know enough of your habits to expect to find you here on an October day ; and by good luok I've met you. The fact is, I need a little monoy."

/ " Bad luck, Dick-bad luck, said the elder man. " I'vo told you time and again I never want to see you. As for being your banker, I respectfully deolino. You haven't a Bhadow of a right to claim anything, and I won't give it. Work, if you want to live. It's the only chance you have of making yourself a decent man. There are no old shoes of mine to wait for (as vou know), and I say again I'll not help you to live in idleness."

" About tho matter of right I'm not sure,' said the youth. " Old grandfather must hove beon mad when he made that will, and poor mother was his daughter, you know. Bosidcs you bi'ought mo up to expect everything, and turned mo off at last with nothing ; and if I am in difficulties, it's your fault, Unolo Grantford. You treat my sistor Uko your own daughter and make a beggar of me ; is thero any justice

in that ? You know thero's not."

" Your sister is a sweet child," said the elder gentleman. "She has always'boon as good and lovely as hor mother. No ono can say I must treat a good niece whom I love as I do a bad nephew whom T have no reason to liko much. Mako yourself what she ia, and I'll bo as kind to you. Thero-there, Diok," he added, more mildly. "If you only would reform, I'd forget and forgive in a moment ; but you know what a life you lead, and I'll neither help you nor have you at the Grange while you do load it. I wonder you can't beheve mo by this time."

" I know you hate me, well enough," said tho young man. " I never expootod you'd rush into my arms, but I did suppose and do suppose you won't like to hove one of your own family openly diBgraoed, as I shall be if I don't have a hundred dollars to-day. You needn't look in oredulous, uncle ; it's a fact."

" A foot or a he, I've had enough of it," said the other, sternly. " Disgrace mo if you can ; bo sent to gool or hung ; I'll not Uft a finger or pay a cent to help you. I won't listen to the story ; I don't caro what scrape it is you've got into now. Bear it or dio of it. It's all one to me. Remember that, Dick Osprey, for the future. Stand out of my way, wdl you ; and ho strode post his, nephew with ,an almost me- nacing motion of tho hand. ,

The young man endeavoured to arrest his steps. Hastening after him, ho cried :

"Uncle-Unolo Grantford ! One moment listen to me one moment. I'U never appeal to you again. I-Ah! he's gone! gone!"

Ana a torrent of oaths burst upon the air, and the youth fell to tearing handfulls of hair ?from his head, and absolutely weeping with

vexation.

Suddenly, as he stood in the ecstasy of rage the report of a gun sounded through the woods and through the leafy solitude his uncle's voice

came hack to him : -

" Great Heavens!"

Nothing beyond this ejaculation ; but it brought Dick Osprey to his senses, and ho started off at full speed, terrified beyond expression, in the direction whence the sound

came.

In two minutes he Stood beside his uncle's outstretched form, in a shady Bpot under an v immense oak tree, upon whose oxposod and

^moss-grown roots the body lay, stdl grasping

the fowUng-piece. From a spot just over the heart a littlo blood was trickling, and the eyes were glazed, and the jaw had fallon, and it was evident that Ufo was already quite extinct.

Time was when Dick Osprey hod loved this uncle of his dearly ; and at the awful sight, old rocoUeotions rushed upon him with overwhelm- ing force, and he caught the inanimate form in his arms, and implored the dumb Ups to speak

to him. i

" Only ono word, TJnole Harry,-only one," he moaned. "Tellme yon forgive mo ; call me, Dick, my boy, as you used. Oh, Unolo Harry ! Uncle Harry !"

And as he spoko a hand carne down on his shoulder, and a voice whispered :

t « What aro you staying hore for ? Why

?don't you cut? There'll be plenty here to see . Syou before long, and that won't do, you know."

Dick Osprey looked up, and Baw at his side -a man of about hiß own, age-dwarfish, dark skinned and coarse featured-dressed in a

flashy style, and wearing a quantity of gaudy

jewellery.

He knew the face weU, and burst out into a Wailing cry.

"Oh, Sim., look here-poor old uncle! I think his gun must have gone off of itself. He's dead-quite dead! And IIÍB last words were words of anger. He used to be good to me. Oh, Uncle Harry ! Unolo Harry !"

11 Don't gammon me," said tho other. " Come, Dick, none of that. I'm your friend, you know. I suppose ho provoked you. He WOB a cantank- erous old boy; and I ain't ono to peach. But don't try it on."

di. " What do you mean-what do you dare to

.3-eon, Simeon Blix ?" shouted Dick Osprey.

r /" I mean I know who fired the shot," said "---.. vneon. "Come; it's time you were off.

You'll be caught else. Como."

" Simeon, Simeon," cried the youth, " how can you suspect me ? We wore not on good terms, but I wouldn't kill a dog in cold blood. Oh, Sim., he Bhot himself, I think, by accident."

And tears Uke a girl's poured down the youth's smooth cheek.

Simeon Blix picked up the fowUng-piece and

examined it.

" This has never been fired," he Baid. ?"Look!" AB he spoke ho extracted the load deftly. "KI beUeve you," he said, "no one else will. Unless you want to be hung, you'd better cut. That's plain, but it's true."

The weak youth he addressed turned deadly pale.

" No, no, they'd beUeve me," he said -" they'd behovo me."

" They'd hang you," said Simeon. " Come." " And leave poor uncle-no, no."

"Nonsense! He'll be taken care of," said *Sini. " You can't do no good to dead men by lookan' at 'em. Think of the living,. say I. Have you gbt the money ?"

" Money ?" said Dick, in bewildered accents. ".Yes; you said yon were going to ask him

for some." .

" I remember."

" You moy well. What wül happen to you if you don't put that hundred back in old Draftem's safe to-night ?"

" Yea ; it wül be hard for me."

" He hasn't got it about him, then ?" " How should I know ?"

" Know ? Haven't you looked ?" ?" I'm no robber," Sim."

"Bah! Como, hurry,-I hoar guns."

"Sim., don't! My brain is whirling; I am going mad! .." Could you fancy I would rob the

"Easier than to rob the living, Diok. Woll, I don't mina helping you. There-that's his pooket-book. You know the place, and every penny would be'yours if tho'young un wasn't

at the Grange. So help 'yoursolf. Won't? 1 Well, I'll carry it awhile. Come, Dick 1 I say do you want to bo arrested for murder P That's it, do you ?"

" Oh, Sim., Sim.," moaned the youth ; " they could not think it. My good uncle, who used

to be so kind to mo !"

" Confound it ! come along," whispered Sim. "This way. Nobody must soo you, Hush!

Como, come now." 1

And ho dragged tho trembUng Diok away from tho awful spot by main forco, just in timo to escapo the little band of sportsmen who were crashing their way through the under-growth, and calling in stontorian voices for the comrade who would never answer thom again.

At the same moment another figuro gUded from the shadow of the trees, and vanished in tho hoart of the woods-the figure of a woman, * wrapped in oloak and hood, bouoath whioh glittered an eye hke that of a tigross.

OHAPTEB U.

THE PASTOS AND THB OTGHWAYHAK.

AEOMBALD HELiriroNE, pastor of the Uttlo ' ohureh whioh was tho pride of tho Episcopal residents of Pulaski, a town of New York State, came from the door of the " Washington Head Quarters'," a roadside tavern not many miles from the banks of tho Lake Ontario, and stood fitting on his gloves and waiting with mild patience for tho little nag which was being slowly made ready for the road by a heavy look- ing Gorman boy.

Behind him-the mon a littlo in advance, as became the mostor of the houso-followed landlord and landlady, rather to retard than " speed their parting guest," if their motive could be judged by their speech and gestures.

" You ain't never goin* tu start at this hour, Domino," began tho woman. "Sun's a'most down, and there's a rain comin' on, or I'm no Yankee. 'Taint for tho sake of a longer hill, as I hope you know, for Jonathan ud be ashamed to charge a mite more, but seems to mo I can't let ye go to-night no how."

i " We're of one mind on that p'int, anyhow," said the landlord. " Jest send the boast back, Domine, and como in ag'in. Tho road aint,' to tho best o' my boliof, over safo at night-not any way to au old gontloman, and a man o' peace by profession, as you may say. Maybo ve haven't heerd down tu your town how't Farmor Oats was robbed and weU about mur- dered a wook ago comin' home from market."

" And your cold not over yet," said the land- lady. 'J If you was my partuor, I'd not let you go, ef it come to takin' and lookin' up your

hat."

" Lot me see any woman durst do that for mo," said the landlord. " If I was sot on goin' I'd go; but she's right about you, Domino, considérai' the storm and the cold, and the rascals at large, and everything taken togethor."

" AB to the storm," said the old gontloman, buttoning his coat, " if it should oonie on, I never stop for weather. My oold is well, and in this country and this age I trust tho days of highwaymen aro over. Besides, I carry no- thing to tompt'them. And, good folks,'I'm wanted at homo. Mrs. HolmBtone writeB to mo that Aunty Pratt is near her end, and I muet Bee her. She has been a member of our church ever since I oame to it., Tho little good we have to do Bhould bo done at once, for life

is short, and I have boen away from my flock too long already. Ah, Hans, ready with my horse ? Good bye, good bye, frionds." And shaking hands,' the elergymau gained his saddle with an activity remarkable in one who must havo seen nearly sovonty years of life, and rode away without farther parley. ^

It was a splendid day as yet, dospito the few clouds whioh, in the landlady's ooutious eyes, foreboded rain. Tho gross was green, tho flowers brilUant ; birds sang in the bushes, and butter flics flitted over the broad fields of wheat and

corn. Everything in nature wns"vcaloulated to raise the spirits of the traveller, and ho was not one to brood or mopo at any time. If his face was. as true an index of his character as faces

usually are, ho might be known at a glance as a happy, benevolent, God-fearing old man, who kept the golden rule, and loved his neighbor as

himself.

He ambled on slowly amidst tho pleasant ecenos, thinking of many homely things and of many pleasant duties ; of the now church pul- pit; of the best way of reconciling ¡ Deacons Grunt and Grumble ; of -his cosy, comfortable littlo old wife ; of his wards, Estelle and Aure- lia Kent ; and last, but not least, of little Otho Grantford, whoso winning ways and bright beauty would have won his hoart, ovon if cir- cumstances had not made him in a certain degree the little orphan's guardian, and placed him in a position which demanded all his

caution.

" 'Tis no Ught matter," he said to himself. ' A suitable tutor for the child I am commis- sioned to find and engago, and whoro shall I find him? Many a man understands Greek and Latin and mathematics, but that is not all. A good tutor may make the boy a good man, a baa one ruin him. I must wait, and pray the Lord to aid mo in my choice. Mr. Morgan wants the placo. He is genial and well edu- cated, but my mind miBgives me. His face is that of a gentleman over fond of wine. An evil habit, and one which I trust- Hey, Sukey« Mercy on us, I forgot where I was." ^

And truly the good clergyman, unused to the saddle, had wandered -from it in mind to the pulpit, t and unconsciously commencing a dis- course,' had executed sundry flourishes whioh which were not to be borne even by the amiable

animal he rode.

The heedless equestrian had only discovered this by finding that the saddle and himself had parted company, and that he was sitting in the road, with Sukoy staring at him, with her white lashed eyes fuU of rebuke and inquiry.

It was a sudden fall, but not a violent one. In a few momenta the old gentleman discovered that no bones wero broken, and that the marshy spot where he had fallen was as soft, if not as pleasant, as a feather-bed.

Gathering himself up, and looking with dis- gust at his bespattered garments, Mr. Helm stone approached Sukey with the intention of mounting her. To his alarm and grief, the attempt proved that she had not escaped as well as her master. She was injured by the stumble against the stones on the road, and al- together too lame to be of any use upon the journey.

1 Mount he could not, and Pulaski was yet too

far to render the prospect of a walk thither agreeable to a gentleman of Mr. Helmstone's weight and age.

1 The clergyman cast a look toward the setting

sun, another toward the road whioh wound

toward the "Washington's Headquarters," and

wished for the moment that he had tarried there until morning.

However, it was too late to return, and walk he must, if ho would reach home that night ; so, taking the poor animal's bridle on his arm, he Bet off on MB journey.

< Slowly and patiently ; but the hours sped on as swiftly as before. The sun reached the hori- zon and sank below it amidst gorgeous rifts of clouds. Then gold and purple faded from the sky, and left only dim twiUght, with the pale ghost of an early-risen crescent moon over bead, and stiU the roofs of Pulaski were not evon in Bight.

A less patient man might have given vent to i his annoyance in hasty words and looks, but in y such cases Archibald HolmBtone bore his fate [. meokly. He did think of supper growing cold

-of a great arm-chair and a pair of slippers standing empty-and of a face presBcd against the panes of the parsonage window on the look- out for him ; but he only trotted on a little

faster, and murmured :

"Poor Sukey! poor old beast!"

i Still, plod on as he might, night gathered over the parson's way. The lame horse was a sad clog, and ho waa unused to pedestrian exer- cises, and the moon had grown yeUow as gold, and the distant hills ink-blaok, when suddenly from behind a clump of bushes beside the road emerged the form of a man, tall, formidable in

appearance, and woaring'over his faoo a/crape

maBk. - -

" Stand and deliver !" oried a voice from be- neath the mask. " Your money, parson, or your Ufo 1" '

Mr. Helmstono lookod upon the apparition muoh as wo look upon fearful objects in a dream. At first ho did not quite comprehend hia own position. Stand and deliver ! Did the ruffian mean to possoss himself of Sukoy P The hand upon the bridle clutohod itaolf moro firmly.

Moanwhilo the highwayman did o very sin- gular thing. From hia breast he drew a little ink-horn, a pon, and a piece of paper. Thoso he extended to the olergyman.

" Sign your nanu to this, Parson Holmstono," he said, " and you may go free. I wont neither your old blood nor your lame beast-only your signature."

" My signature to what, lawless man ?" askod

Mr. Helmstono.

"Bead if you Uko, the moon is bright enough," said the highwayman. And ho stretohed tho document towards the old olergy-

man.

Tho latter took it, settled his glassos upon his nose, and read : ,

" Humphrey Hollingsworth, Esq., Bankor. Sir : Please deliver to tho boaror the caakot of jewels and ornaments now in your possession, conflded to your caro, Maroh 3rd, 17-, and obligo thereby--"

"Your name is oil that is needed," cried the highwayman as tho clergyman's eye rested on tho last word. " Writo ' oblige thereby Arohi bald Holmstone,' and tho jewels aro mino and your Ufo safe. Refuse, and your brains strew the road, as surely OB you're a saint and I'm a sinner, parson."

Archibald Helmstono folded the dooumonti cooly, wiped his glassos, removed thom from, his eyes, and spoke : .

" I refuse to sign." . " Refuse ?"

" Positively !" ( The highwayman laughed. He put one hand, in his breast, drew forth the heavy pistol then in use, and brought it close against the old clergyman's forehead.

" An argument, good sir," he said, flippantly. " Confuto it if you oan."

Tho cold steel made Mr. Holmstone shudder, but ho lookod up unflinchingly.

" Tho jowels belong to my wards, Estella and Aurolia Kent," he said. " I hold them in trust against their majority. Should I lose thom I havo no means to mako thom good. I will not rob two helpless orphans of their inheritance to save my Ulo. What I haye about me is my own. Take that and go, in Heavon's nomo ! Stain not your soul with blood."

Tho robber uttered an oath.

"Preaoh to yourself, parson," ho oriod. "Your name or your life ! I am not joating."

" Nor I," said the pai'Bon.

There was something in the old hoad, with its silky, white hair falling low upon tho shoul- ders ; in ' the soft, bluo oyes and ' the smooth brow, in the » mild mouth and placid double chin, that would have made a stranger fancy the old olergyman easily terrified, and still moro easily porauaied to compliance. But, undor all this softness, was strength and bravory in any just cause. ' * *

Whon he said, "Nor I," a change como over his countenance, and the robber saw ho had no coward to deal with. The knowledge onroged him. Ho _ seized tho old man by tho arm and hold ¿ho pistol to IIÍB oar.

" I give you untd I count ten," ho said, " to decido. Then I blow your stubborn brains out, or ride away with your signature. Remomber, I am not afraid to koop my word. Ono--"

Tho clergyman stood still. "Two-" Not a word.

"Three-"

Then tho robber heard :

''Have moroy on my sinful soul and on this

my murderer/

"Four-"

A tear stole down tho parson's chook. It was for the dear ones at home. It was hard to die away from them, very, very hard ; but if the highwayman drew inferences of cowardice from this glittering drop, he was mistaken.

" Five-six-BO ven. Parson, tho time is al- most up," cried the robber.

"Eight-ni-"

Tho last numbor was novor uttored. Bofore it posBod his Ups the desperado lay motionless upon the road ; a man's knee upon his broast, a man's hand at his throat, disarmed, senseless.

A stranger had como to the clergyman's rescue. 3T stranger who, ten minutes before, had beon slumbering as only an exhausted way- farer oan slumber, amongst the bushes by the road-sido. A man, tall, dark, and perhaps eight-and-twenty ; a man handsome enough to charm the proudost maiden in Christendom ; and yet in rags. Rags such as only Uno clothes ovor fall into. Rags to mako the heart bleed.

The olergyman looked at his proBorvor, and

at the bleeding, senBoless form of tho highway-

man.

In those few moments he had prepared him- self for death, and hero was life again. Ready as his soul had boen he rejoiced in it, for ho

was not tirod of life. Words of thankfulness struggled to his lips. As they wore uttered the robber stirred and groaned.

" Ho is not dead, thank heaven," said the : clergyman.

"No; more pity for tho world," said the young strangor. " I havo disarmed him, and I fanoy he will not bo able to harm us for some time. Yet we had better hasten on ; comrades are seldom far distant from suoh rogues as these, and even now we are but two."

ABJUO spoke he offered his arm to the old man and thoy hurried on, leaving the highwayman struggling back to oonsiousness, with muttered

oaths and execrations.

One thing the old man noticed : strong as the arm had seemed when it overthrow his enemy, it was of almost skeleton thinness. The fingers were long and wiry, and cold as ice. The chest and shoulders sharply defined und el the tattered garments. Tho more the parson looked at his companion the more certain he became of two things. First, that this man, by birth and breeding, was a gentleman. Secondly, that he was starving.

A, starving gentleman, and one with no signs of dissipation or lawless habits on his coun- tenance to_ account for the fact! It was a strange thing, which had never bofore come undor the parson'B observation. Most men

would have said :

" This man is bad. His crimes have brought bim to poverty." The charitable soul of this old man gave birth to the thought: "Ho has been unfortunate, nrobably he is friendless. He hoB saved my life, and I, in return, will ho

his friend."

Meanwhile they had reached their destina- tion ; the white walls of his pretty parsonage arose before him, with a twinkling light in the parlor window to tell that he was watohed and waited for ; and ho pointed it out to his com- panion.

" Home at last," he said. " Mrs. Helmstone must see and thank you for herself. She will havo Buffered some anxiety on my account. Mr.-Mr.-I beg your pardon, I" forgot your

name."

" I believe you have not heard it," replied the stranger ; "and you can judge for yourself whether this attire is ono in which a gentleman would wish to meet a lady's eye. As I can be of no further service, goodnight, sir."

Ho would have turned away as he spoke, but the parson caught his arm.

" Stop," he said, " stop ; we cannot part this way. You have saved my life. You have done me what man always thinks the greatest service possible. I needed a friend, as I may need one again. Your liand aided me. I beUeve that you also stand in Bore need of friendship. I offer it. Awhile ago I said God had sent this mon to help me ; now I begin to think perhaps he hsB Bent me to help yon.". .,

The younger mon looked at him.' His lip quivered ; his breath came fast.

"You judge from-from my dress that I am poor," he panted.

«Yes.«»

"You think-because I wear rags-from ohoioe or caprice-that I am a beggar. Per- il | hapi you would offer me bread, money, alms.

It is natural ; bufyou' insult a gentleman-you do, indeed. - Good night."

But more tightly than, before the old parson

clutched his arm.

" Liston to mo," he Baid ¡ " I arnold enough to be your father, or your grandfather. I am o clergyman.» You aro wrong in showing such pride to mo, whom you hove just bonofited. I make no mistake. I saw at once .you wero a gentleman, but I saw also that you had beon unfortunate. My friend-my doar young friond, wo aro all human, with human Woes and Bins and wants upon us, and I of all men could not dospiso you bocauso I seo that you are starving, and too proud to own it, with an old man's homo so near, and a weloomo there for you."

The young man struggled to roloaso himself, tried to spook ; and even in the moonlight tho

parson could seo his chook flush. At last ho gasped s

" You aro right. Lot mo go. I am starving,

and I will die before I will eat tho broad of charity. You insult mo by offering it." And, bursting from him, ho staggered a few steps, and foil upon his face, in tho dust of tho high- way, in a swoon.

"Poor fellow, poor feUow," muttered the pastor, bonding over him. "How dreadfully proud wo poor worms aro. There; ho can't run away just now, and I'll havo him taken in at onco. Bloss mo! bloss mo! what strange things happon when wo least oxpoot thom."

Then, hastening to tho,gate of his parson- age, ho cried aloud :

" Hulloa, John ! John Jacks, I say ! Como out hore ! You aro wanted, John !"

At tho ory the parsonage, door burst opon, and out into the road rushod, first, a stout, old lady, hi curl papers, who flung her arms about tho parson aud kissed him ; socondly, a parlor maid with a candió ; and thirdly, the individual who answorod to the namo of John Jaoks, and who, sorving his master in a hundred capaci- ties, was called and "believed himself to bo the coachman. ,

"Mylove!" cried the lady, "what I've suf- fered no mortal tongue can toll."

" What has kept you, sBir ?" cried the moid.

John Jacks contented hiiusolf by walking up' to Sukey and solemnly examining lier injuries.

" Thank you, my dear," said the curate, " No wondor you wore olormod. I've beon in somo littlo danger from, in faot, from highwaymen, and this gentleman-Don't bo alarmed, my dear, ho is not dead,, only in a swoon. kJohu Jacks, I shall need your holp."

And with this diBJointod explanation, the old gontloman signed. to his faototum to assist him in boaring the insensible mail across the thresh- old. , , --

Johu Jacks stared a moment, oolleotod IIÍB sensoB and his energies, and then multoring : "Don't need no help, sir," shouldered tho sensolosB stranger; as ho might a baby, and, marching into the house, dopoaited him in what was known as tins " spare bod-room " with all the tenderness of à woman.

"Not much of a lift," he said, as ho laid him down. "Ho's a long un, but he's a thin un."

And thon marched off with Sukey to tho stabla to proparo washes and mashes, without a quostiou or a thought upon the events which had caused BO muoh oxoitomont in the usually quiet housohold. (

For this, however, Mrs. Helmstono mado amends, and, while applying necessary roatora tives, heard the whole Story of the atrangor's providential appearance upon the road, and of her husband's danger. '

It made her as tender to the scnsoloss objoot of her caro as though ho had boon hor own son, and when, in the absence of the maid, tho clergyman related tho sceno at the gate, her eyes and her heart overflowed.

" Wo must bo very good to him door," abo said. "Poor and proud! Ah, me! I pity suoh peoplo moro than I do beggars. And ho savod your UfoP Poor boy! I wonder who ho is,

and whother he has a mothor. He is a Uttlo justa littlo like what I fanoy our Archy would havo beon had he lived." . i

She had hardly spoken tho words when tho lids which voilod tho groat dark oyos wero lifted, and as if in a droam - the young man spoke. i

- "Mothor," he said. "Mother, I've boou

away from you too long. When did you come, mothor." _ >

And, stretching out his hand, ho caught the matron's dimpled fingers and pressed thom to his Ups. At that her ovos fairly overflowed.

"Ho thinks I am his mother," sho said. " Poor follow ! ho really thinks I am his

mothor."

Good Mrs. HelmBtono nursed the stranger back to life moro tendorly after this, perhaps, for sho could but think that so her dead boy might havo spoken had ho lived to be a man ; and hor efforts and those of the good olorgy man wore rewarded by sooing strength and the hue of health return to tho meagre form and worn foco of their guest. Soon he waB con- valescent, and then the matron and hor spouse held a consultation on an important subject.

It was in the olorgyman'B study, sitting in the two arm-chairs of groon leather studdod with brass nails, which stood on eithor sido of the bright fire-place. Mra. Helmstono began

it. '

"Ho must have 'em," sho said. '

"What, my dear? who must have what)" queried tho parson, looking up from his volume

" That poor dear up starrs must have olothos." " " Ycs,*l)orothea." ' * ' ,

And thó curate plungod into his book again. " You speak as if it was an easy matter," Baid the lady.

"Is it not, my dea? ?" '

"It's the most difficult affair I ever had to manage. He's so frightfully proud."

" So he is-so he is." " And a gentleman."

" As you say-a gentleman,'!

" Woll, don't you BOO, Archibald, if you offer him a decent suit of clothes, he'll refuse 'em ; and he mustn't-he-such a handsome young gentloman-who has saved your Ufe-ho mustn't go from us looking Uko a beggar. > I'm abso- lutely afraid of making him angry by doing" him good-I who might almost bo his grandmother. I say, Archy, love."

" Yea, dear." l

" Tho only way wiU be to put, tho things whoro ho will seo them and destroy the old 'ones, and then he'll be obliged to wear 'em,

eh?"

"Right, my dear." i

So Mrs. Helmstono had her way. One morning the stranger's disused rags wero stolen away, and a suit, plain but somewhat coBtly, placed in their stead.

Then both waited somowhafc impationtly for sounds of their guest's awakening.

They carne at last ; first a hasty passing to and fro j secondly a ringing of the boU, and tho young stranger's voice in tones of tho greatest agitation.

In a moment or so a servant came hurrying

to his master.

" The Bick gentleman, sir," she said, " wants you to come, sir. Ho's in the greatest way,

sir." '

The curate looked at his wife. She nodded. " Go, my dear," abo said. " Mind,tdon't let him hare 'em back, on any account." '

" Rely on mo for that, Dolly," said tho par- son, and away he went up stairs to the room his guest occupied.

Once within the chamber door, his courage failed him. The young man was pacing the floor in the most-frightful agitation. His , Up quivering, his, cheek palo. As the parson entered he advanced and caught him by both

shoulders.

" The clothes !" ho panted, "the old garments which I laid hero last night, where are they ? Speak 1 where are they?"

" Gone-burnt or torn, I've no doubt," Baid Mr. Helmstone, calmly.

- "Gone! burnt! torn! No, no! They are safe somewhere-tell me they are safe!"

The curate smiled benignly.

" My dear young man," he said, " you are too prond ; indeed, your efforts to succor mo, your struggle with that highwayman caused the garments to suffer so that they wero unwear ablo. This is a goodly suit, and as there is no help for it I advise tho wearing thereof."

" The clothes are gone then. ' ( " Quite," said Mr. Helmstone, blandly.

" Yon .have destroyed them! you! do you know that you have ruined me ! ruined mo !

ÍDo'you know that. ~ Thero-I mean no harm ; forgive mo ; but you havo niado me a, beggar."

" Gracious goodness !" oricd the curate ;

" this is delirium."

" It is not doHrium," said the young man, more calmly. "It is not even the shamo o gentleman ímiBt foel in accepting oharity. I forget all in tono groat loss. Romomber-tri) to remombor-what has boen done with thoso

rags? Oh, oldman, for tho sako of Heaven! tell me thoy are safe ! You do not understand mo ; thoy contain somothing of valuo-of im-

mense value to mo ?"

The olergyman began to comprohend.

" You don't want to put thom on ?" he asked.

" No-no."

"You aro doceiving mo for the sake of tho gotting them P"

"No-OB Hive!"

"Dross yoursolf thon; I'llsoaroh for thom. But, forgivo mo-if unintentionally I havo lost money-"

" Nay, no money-I understand you ; noth- ing oould compensate mo for tho loss of tho packet stitched into the bosom of that ragged coat-nothing."

Tho olergyman heard, trombled, and trotted away. Fortunately good Mrs. Helmstono had notyot destroyed the garmonts ; and though refusing to bring thom within the roach of her guoBt, sho seal ched thom thoroughly. AU sho discovered waa a paokot stitohed into the boaom of tho coat. This tho parson took to the young

stranger.

" Is this," ho bogan, but as ho sp ok o tho dark eyes of his guest flashed aud ho caught the

packet from him.

"Safo! safe!" he cried; "safo! God bloas you! Safo!" and burst into tears.

An hour after this he stood bofore the parson and his wife, dressed in tho garments thoir kindness had bosto'wod upon him.

" I am about to leave you," ho said. " But, beUeve mo, I am not ungratofui. At present I will not toll you who I am, or whonoo I como. I will not oven oxplain tho oiroum stan ces whioh have brought mo to tho condition in whioh you havo soon mo. lu all human probability tho worst is over, and I shall soon boablo to appear before you-to appear boforo tho world as-"

Ho paused, hold out both his hands, and grasped thoso kindly extended to him.

"Loavo explanations for tho future," ho said. " Enough for you that you have bofriondod a stranger. The stranger's thanks, the strangor's blessing be with you until wo moot again."

Ho stopped, as ono might stoop boforo an einprosB, pressed his Ups to tho plump fingers of Mrs. HolmBtone, lookod, rather than uttorod, an adieu, and was gone from boneath tho kindly roof whioh j had snoltorod him for one short .Week.

He oame thither namoloss; ho loft it un- known. Who he was, what ho was, still ro mainod unsolved enigmas. But tho good couplo could think no ill of him, and felt as though ia the few days just past thoy had found oucl lost

a sou.

OHAPTEB HL

THE OBANGB.

ON leaving tho parsonage, tho strangor turned his stopsat once in tho dirootion of Pulaski, and passing through it with many pauses and some wrong turnings, gainod the opposito su- burbs, and oamo at last to a large building sur- rounded by gardens and fenood from tho road

by a low Btono fence, at tho gato of whioh woro {ilacod two elaborately carvod lions. Over tho

oft wing of the mansion an onormous oroopor spread its glossy leaves, and on tho right aroao a double row'of dark old poplars. It was o comfortable, ' well-to-do houao, one ovidoutly owned by people of wealth and consoquonco, and the stranger stood regarding it oarnostly for many moments.

As ho lookod, his expression grew absolutely joyous and triumphant. Ho smiled at first, muttered to himself, and at last laughed aloud.

" Good morrow, Grantford Orango," ho said with o low bow, as though tho spirit of frolio was too strong to be subduod. " My mothor painted you rightly. You aro a noble old place -a placo to bo proud of-a place for a gontlo- man to livo and die in-tho old house of a good old family."

Truly, its worst enemy oould not have ao ouBod tho Grange of being now. What with the rough bown stono of whioh it was built, the anoiont creeper on its wall, tho venorablo trees, and tho prim walks of its largo garden, whore no modern and fantastic innovations had been modo-some might havo fanoied it rather too solidly old-fashioned and sombre. Not so the new comer. It satisfied his eye and heart. Ho gazed at it with flushed chook and smiling Up, and lingered long oro passing through the gateway, he followed tho broad pathway to tho principal door of the Grange.

Hero hung a great brazon kneokor, at tho ' sound of which, as the stranger hftod it, steps wero hoard within, and in a moment or so the door, oponed by o man in a dress whioh, whilo not exactly a livery, betokonod at once that ho held a servant's position in the household.

" WoU, MiBter, what moy bo your business ?" was the singular salutation of thiB domostio, aB he held the door ajar, and the étranger replied with an amused lifting of the eyebrows : '

" My business at present is to ask afow ques- tions, ho said with a laugh. " This is Grant- ford Grange, I believe."

" Whoover told you that told no lie," Bald i the man. ,

, " Tho deceased proprietor was Mr. Honry

Grantford."

" YOB, sir-that's as true as t'other."

" I am an old friend of his, or, rathol', the son of an old friend," said tho stranger, look- ing down and trifling with his glove, " and bo- ing in PulaBki, I naturally desired to BOO the place."

The servant interrupted him,

'* Of courso you did. Du teU. Friend of his, oh ? Walk in. I've lived in the family twenty years. Name of Jonathan Johns, sir. Xou'vo maybe heard teU of mo. Como in and sit down.'' ' i )

<é Thank you," replied tho stranger. " If it is convenient, I should Uko to visit tho picture gallery,' I have heard it spoken of so often.

" It was the pride of master's heart," said Jonathan. " How he sot by his pioturs, to bo sure. ThiB way, sir."

He closed the outer door carefully, and led the way along tho broad hall, and through a narrow corridor at tho ond to an iramonso double door Unod with baizo whioh opened noiselessly, and admitted thom to a long room lighted by a skylight, on tho walls of whioh hung no mean array of pictures ; some, dim old masters, somo glowing modern landscapes, a dozen German " interiore," and a number of portraits in the costumes of the past and pro sent generations. f

Less attractive, perhaps to the ordinary stranger," tbo present visitor passed tho other pictures and paused boforo these portraits, which ho regarded with an earnest eye. '

" Family portraits ?" ho Baid.

" Yes, sir-kith and kin of master, all of'em," said'the servant. "That's his mother, tbo old lady was ninety when she died-but that's her as a girl, in low neck and ourls. Purty, wasn't Bhe, sir?" '

" Very," replied tho stranger. " Mr. Grant- ford $ed suddenly, did he not ?"

" Awful sudden," repUed Jonathan "A suddoner tiling couldn't be. Went out shoot- ing birds tho pictur of health, and was fetched hum dead. Shot with his own gun, sir. They say it caught ha the brambles and went off. He'd hod a presentiment his end was near ; hut la ! sir, when it carno/ or just before, ho was laughing and talking, and never thought of it. .1h\s is master's sister Boatrice, sir. Ran away, they say, with a foreigner that her brother sot I I his mind against her having ; but that was be-

fore my time."

The stranger gazed intently upon the picture Jonathan's lean finger pointed out. It was that of a blonde beauty, with long, fair bair, and blooming cheeks, and eyes of purest blue.

Yet in the giriish face was so strange a like- ness to that of the young man who stood be- fore it, that Jonathan Johns observed it on the

instant.'

"A friend of the family?" he asked. "I should take you fors relation. You've got the re^lor Grantford oyes. They wore all of 'em light complected."

But the visitor made no answer.

Soon he passed to othor faces, young and old; ti bearded men and blooming girls, aged womon t< and young infants ; no striking beauties, no ro- s markablo works of art-until, in a Uttlo nook, t a picture painted by some one worthy the title y of artist flashod upon him.

A wild, elfish face, shaded by a pioturosque Scotch cap, boncath whioh olustored a mass of

ebon ourls. A littlo dimpled shoulder, emerg- ing from a volvot sloovo, a tiny hand grasping

a bunch of wild flowers. It was a vory fasoi- t noting pioturo, as the gontloman who looked upon it Boomed to think.

" This, I presume," ho Baid, " is not a por- trait-at loast a Grantford portrait."

" Oh, yes it is, sir," said Jonathan. " That ia about tho most portioklor portrait boro. That's poor master's only son, Mastor Otho. Poor Mi-. Grantford hod it dono only two years ago."

" His son !" oxolaimed tho gontloman ; " his son ! You ore dreaming. Ho had no son. I am euro of that, for his wife died yoirs ago."

" Thoro you'ro right," said Jonathan," and

yet again you'ro wrong. Tho first lady is doad. < You may soo hor monnyment in the churchyard 3 any day. But, you soo, this is tho second Mrs.

Grantford's son."

"Ho married again, thon," muttered tho stronger. " But surely tho second wifo is also dead, and tho ohild also."

"No, sir, said Jonathan. "Best o' my be- lief, noithor on 'om. Why, you arn't Biok, ore you ?"

For as ho uttored the last words, tho stranger sunk into o ohair, palo to tho vory lips, and stared at him with torror iu his eyes.

" Hov o glass of water P" askod Jonathan.

" No, thank you. I am fatiguod, that is all. I have boon ill, and am not strong. So Mr, Grantford married again P"

" Yes, Bir. It was tho talk for milos around. Sho was a quoor sort of lady. 'Tisn't for mo to talk, though."

" Yes-go on. I want to know all you oau toll me."

" Woll, sir, she was beautiful, but just Uko a gipsy. Folks said she was ono. Sho waan't

Bixteon, and master, you know, was forty-flvo, ' Nobody know who sho was, nor who hor folks wore, nor whoro he met hor. Ho brought hor

home ono night and said to UBI

" ' This is your mistress, Mrs. Grantford.'

" Her nomo was a quoor one-it was Hogar. Woll, sir, o year after thoro was a baby hore, and when it was christened thoro WUB a grand timo. Suoh a party ! music and dancing, and speechifying. In tho middlo of it sho went."

" Who went-where ?"

" Mrs. Grantford, sir-she took and ran away. She didn't loavo a word bohind her. I don't believe sho so muoh as put on a bonnot. Sho just out off in hor party dross, and nobody has ever seon hor since. Somo Bay tho gipsies woro around a bit boforo, tolling fortunes, and that sho was ooaxod back to hor own people Sho's gono, anyhow."

" And the ohild-sho took that with hor ?"

" No-thero's the p'int, unnatural OB it sooms, sir, sho loft it ; suoh a littlo critter, too. Mastor was distraotod. Ho offerod raonoy enough to stook a farm for information, but it did no good. Master gave it up at last, and littlo Otho has never heard his mothor spokon of. Hork! d'yo hoar, Bir? That's him. A splendid ohild ; but ho's got a toarin' temper of his own. Now, du hoar P"

Through tho pioturo gallery, as Jonathan lifted a foroflnger to onjoin silonoo, rang oloar and shrill a ohild's young voioo.

" Let mo go, Betsy ! I won't mind ! I'll do as Iplcaso. I will run in tho grasB without my shoos ! I'm Mr. Otho Grantford, and I'm to mind nobody."

" Ho, ho, laughed Jonathan ; " hoar him. SometimoB it's that, and sometimes that ho is

a king. I don't know who put suoh things into his mind, without they re born thero. He'll rulo tho roast, will Mr. Otho, whon ho's a man. I say, sir-I'll call bim for you to BOO."

"Seo him!" gasped tho gontloman-"st that child P No ! no-novor ! I am ill-I Ho is coming! Show mo tho way out! Ido not wish to moot him. Quiok ! before tho boy

comos." *

,"WeU, some folks don't Uko children," Baid Jonathan. " Could you find the way by tbo sido-Rato, d'yo think ?" 1

"Yes, yos," gasped'tho strongor, scarcoly able to speak. " Indeed, I am vory ill ; I need the fresh ah1. Be quick I"

Jonathan opened a Fronoh window, and in an instant the stranger darted through it, and disappeared amidst the shrubbery.

"Tho queorost orittorlovor did soo!" mut-

tered Jonathan. " Reckon ho's oraokod. Ho's

too gentool looking to havo took anything; besides I'vo watohod. Thore's no spoons around, and tho pictures can't bo carriod off on tho sly. Lor ' what a quoor critter. But somo folks is quoor by natur', aud it is a misfortin, not a fault."

So saying, Jonathan shut tho window, took tho precaution of bolting it, gavo a look around, felt in his pockets for pui-Bo and handkerchief, and left the gallory just as. tho littlo heir of tho Grange reached its threshold.

CHAPTEB IV.

WHAT HAPPENED*AT THE OnUBOH. j

THE pastor of St. Gcorgo'e; sat, with his wife, upon tbo poroh of his protty parsonage, lato in the evening of this day, when an old man carno hobbling up the path, and stood boforo him gasping for breath, and trombling with fatigue and agitation. I

It waa tho olerk, Hiram Hodges, a man of past eighty, who had held his office for moro than thirty years, and clung to it still, though age and infirmity had brought him to tho vory verge of tho gravo, and noarly unfitted him for labor. Ho «as, in truth, a spectacle most alarming as ho Btood panting, with his eyes starting from their sockets, his cheeks sucked in, and his Ups quivering. One would have fancied that ho must then and thoro givo up the life whioh seemed to hang upon so slight a

thread. '

The pastor and his wifo wero on their feet in an instant, tho former ejaculating ; (

"What now, Hiram P Nothing the matter with tho old wife, I hopo." '

"Nothing, thank BLcaveu!" gasped the old mon; "nothing. But I've had a turn. A gentleman has poisoned himsolf in the vostry ! Tho doctor is there, and I'vo como for you. I'm to blame-I'm quite to blame for it's hap- pening there. I believe ho is dead, sir. A suicide in St, George's vestry, sir."

"Dead!" ejaculated the ourate. "A gontlo- man, you say P Any one we know ? I hope

not-I trust not ?"

"A stranger, sir," repUed the olork-"a young man, and very handsome. Ho oamo to me about sunset, and.asked to look at the marriago register, such and such a year. Thoro was no reason why he Bhould not do so ; and as the book was locked up in the vestry, I took "him thoro, found it for him, and turned to the page. ." I waB looking over his shouldor, and saw what he read, not once but a dozen times. It was the record of Mr. Grantford's odd second marriago. As I say, Bir, ho read it o dozen

times. At last he turned to mo.

"'Were you present whon this marriage took place?' he askod mo, suddenly, pointing

with his finger to the record

" . Yes,' I told him. ' Yes, sir, I've been clerk for more than forty years. This is a 1 matter of ton yoars back.'

" He gove a heavy sigh.

" ' Hager Esst,' he repeated. ' Hagar East,

an odd name.'

" ' An odd lady too, sir,' I answered. ' Per- haps you know how it ended P'

" < I have heard,' he said.

"Then, as if ho was crazy, he looked atme

and said :

" « It was all regular,' I suppose-' all ac- cording to rule and ordor. She was his lawful wife, and the boy the next heir to the name and

title of Grantford.'

" ' Lord, sir,' BayB I, ' do you suppose that our Mr. Holmstone would marry anybody ir- regular V says I. ' Gracious goodness, sir. In St. George's too,!*

" Ho looked at me with eyes so bright that I C felt frightened.

t " ' True,' said he, * true. Of course I knew

that.' And then hid his face between his hands.

" Pretty soon ho asked me if ho could go over

tho church to examino it; and I left him. I took my too, sir, at home, and then went hook, supposing, of oourso, that he'd bo gone, and in- tending to look up and como away. I took my youngest grandchild along for company, and ho ran into tho vostry and out again, calling :

" ' A man asloop, grandad-a man asleep.' " " I went in o' course, and first I did think the gontloman toas asleep ; but when I carno to speak to him ho didn't answor, and whon I touohod him, ho dropped off over the bench he was lying on hko a log. Poisoned, the doctor says.'"

" My hat, Dolly," oriod the ourate. " Per- haps he's not dead. Dolly, will you como with

me ?"

The old lady had tied hor handkerchief over her cap already. ,

"Yes," sho said, I'll oomo,-Arohy."

Then as sha took her husband's arm, she put into words the thoughts which had flashed into both thoir minds at the sexton's first words.

" Con it be he?"

" Our young friond P Hoavon forbid ?" said tho curato-" Hoavon forbid ! Dolly, how did you como to think of him !"

" How P I don't know," said his wife.

" I trust it is not anything but a foolish fancy."

And in silenco the good old pair foUowed tho olork along the rood to tho threshold of St. Goorge's

Thoro Mrs. Helmstono paused.

"If it should bo-P Oh, Archy, I can't go in."

" You eau. Courage ! We havo no reason to suppoao--"

" No rooaon whatever," said the old lady, and thoy passod in together.

I ^horo woro lights in tho vestry ; quito a little

crowd gathorod about tho door. Another little crowd within about the figuro prostrato on tho floor. Tho good couple advancod.

At first thoy could not oatch a glimpso of tho face, for tho intervening hoads bont abovo it ; but the noxt moment aU respectfully mado room for the pastor and his wifo, and with horror striokon hoorts thoy saw in tho apparent corpse the young unknown who had so dooply in-

terested them.

" It is ho," gasped Mrs. Holmstono. " Oh, my poor by ; my poor, poor boy !"

The curato only askod :

" Is ho doad, Dr. Muir ?"

" Not yet," ropUed tho dootor. "Will ho dio P*

" It ÍB impossible to toll. I foar so. Ho has

taken laudanum."

As ko spoko ho lifted a vial from tho floor, and pointed to the label. " Laudanum-poison," upon it.

" I havo triod tho best antídotos," said ho. "Perhaps thoy will have o bonoflcial oflbol. Youth is on his side and a good constitution. It depondB muoh on tho quantity ho may havo takon. Wo shall know in a fow hours. You scorn to know this unhappy man, sir,"

" Kuow him I ho saved Arohy's life, whon ho was attaokod by a band of highwayinon," oried tho old lady, " nearly at tho oxponse of his own life. Know him, poor boy !"

" Softly, softly, said the clergyman. " Novor exaggerate, Dolly. Thoro was but one man. Yet ho did mo good scrvioe. I trust you can

savo him for a botter end.''

" Lift him up, good friends," thon Baid tho p IIB tor, mildly, and with a quiot trust in heaven's moroy in his kind, bluo oyoa. " Lift him up and bring him to my houso. Mrs. Ilolmstono is the boat nurso in the world, and if you should savo him, doctor, she will mako him strong again, if broths and jollios can do it."

As though a father had Bpokon to his childron, tho littlo group bogan to moko preparations for obeying his orders. And soon tho inanimate body of tho stranger was horne onoo moro to tho parsonage Thoro tho doctor and Mrs. Holmstono busied therasolvos in the sick room, and tho pastor wont to his own room ' TO PBAY.

To TBAY ! It was all ho could do. It was

much ; for whon a good man prays with a faith-

ful heart, God listons. Tho ourato fait that a. suicido's soul could not bo fit for heavon, and novor had ho boon moro oarnost-never laid be- fore tho Throne a moro forvont petition. The night woro on, tho moon illuininod tho diamond panes of the littlo study window. Soon the venerable hoad, with its fow whito trossos

clustering liko tho tpnsuro of à priest about the bald crown and temples, soomod onoirolod by a halo, OB brightly fell tho moon upon it. Still the ourato knott and prayed.

At dawn there carno a low tappiug at the door. Ho know whoso_ flngors touohod the pannols, and openod. 'There stood his old wifo, worn by hor vigil, but with a glad light ia hor eyoi <''

" He livos, Archibald," she said, " and is Uko to livo."

And thon, as sho might have dono in the earliest days of thoir wedded Ufo, she put both hands upon his shouldors, and lifted hor Ups to his. God bo thanked, love novor nood grow old.

[TO ME CONTINUED]

SCOLDING WIVES.-On a oortain occasion a reverend father, who' was proaohing to a rofinod audionco on tho pangs of a guilty consionce, mado use of the following familiar simile : " An evil consienco is hko a soolding wife." But he did not stop there ; ho oontinuod to draw out every possible thread of his illustration to its full length. " A scolding wifo, my brethorn, will not let you rest at home or abroad, at dinner or at supper, in bed or ovbn out of bed ! Her UtigiouB temper and loud tongue (whioh is worse than thunder to the wino cask), toko all the juices and savoriness out of the regouts you cat ; all tho sugar and sweetness out of tbo coffee you drink. Whether you go forth on foot or on horsebaok, or in a coach drawn by four galloping horses, is all one ; she is always at your skirts, following you whithersoovor you go." ,

OLD SUNDAY LAWS.-About 1603; Sunday bull and bear baits, plays Seo., were forbidden. in England by royal proclamation, James tho First then boing king. But the peoplo mur- mured against the prohibition, and tho king subsequently issued his famous "Bookof Sports,

in which dancing, arohery, and many other pastimes, were pronounced Sabbatical. It was not until toward tho middlo of Charles theFirat's reign that tbo strict Sabbatarians, afterwards so famous as tbo "Puiitans," began to figure prominently in religious history. Snbbaticism made rapid progress, and in 1657 a law was en- acted in England whioh forbade aU traveling and resort to ale-houses, dancing, and playing

on instruments, "profano walking' and carrying

of burdens, and even " idle Bitting, openly, at gates or doors, on the Sabbath day." Thirty seven years before the passage ofthat law, che " Puritan Fathers" had londed at Plymouth Bay, and goodly colonies of the most austere observers of the Sabbath Christendom has ever seen, wore then flourishing in the New World. The first draft of the laws of Massachusetts, preparedcby John, Cotton, a Puritan minister' from Boston, England, embraced the following stringent specifications : Whoever shall profane the Lord's day by doing unnecessary work, by unnecessary travelling, or by sports and recrea-. tiona, he or they who so transgress shall forfeit forty BhUlings, or be publicly whipped ; but if it shall appear to have been done presump- tuously, suoh person or persons shall he put to. death, or otherwise severely punished at the discretion of the court. No one shall run on the Sabbath-day, or walk in his garden or else whore, except reverently to or from meeting. No one shall travel, cook victuals, make beds, sweep houso, cut hair, or shave, on the Sabbath day. No woman shaU kiss her child ou the Sabbath or fasting day. H any man Bhall kiss his wife, or wife her husband, on the Lords day, the party in fault shall be punished at the

discretion of the magistrates.

1 THB celebrated Bubb Doddington was very d lethargic Falling asleep one day after dinner

with Sir Riohard Temple and Lord Cobham, the General reproached Doddington with his drowahiees. Doddington denied .having been asleep, and to prove that he had not, offered to repeat aU that Lord Cobham had been saying. Cobham challenged kim to do so. Doddington repeated a story, and Lord Cobham owned that he had been teUing it. "And yet," said Dod- dington, "I did not hear* word >f it; but I went to sleeep because I know that at about this» time of tho day you would toll that story."