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mmhckbmmdmntflly bk a to Pilili HURACE‘S SPEElllllilll. It had been for months a moitedquestiou (n the little village of Glendale who would fall heir to Aunt Martha Mamle’s money when she died There were her two nieces, the nearest of kin, in the first place. One, Miss Bertha Marvels, an amiable oung lady, who was immensely proper an respectable, and had been very dutiful in her attendance upon her invalid aunt. The other, a pee bit of a maiden. with sunny eyes, and short dancing curls, who taught school for her own and her mother‘s support, and did not seam to mind it at all, she was always so bright and mu- some. She had done nothing in particular for her aunt except to make sunshine in the prim old rooms by ocmsional Visits, and in a saucy, inveigling sort of way to get her- self very much liked by the eccentric old lady; it was very hard to see upon what grounds Miss Dot Mayburne based her ex- pectation, so the neighbours said. . Then there was the church of which she had been a life long member. with its many charities, missions, and relief works. The trustees fully expected to be remembered by Miss Marvels ; but many of the neigh- bours know too much of her “closeness” and ride of- family, and were :sure she would’not give her money to charitable-in- stitutions. Still, the weight of opinion went in favour of either bliss Bertha Mar- vale or the church. And now the good, queer Miss Martha Mari-ale was dead, and buried with due solemnity and proper gloom. Soon it would be known who was the fortunate possessor of her fabulous wealthâ€"for “fabulous” it had become, under the busy tongues of in~ terested friends and acquaintances. To be sure, she had never made a display of riches and no one in Glendale had ever seen her money except in quite meagre sums. I But she was known to have been qiute miserly in her habits, and no doubt had large amounts stowed away in odd corners. The lawyer sat at-‘the head of the room rattling the important document ominously. Miss Marvels set in a high backed 'cliair, looking ale, melancholy, and severe in her new andeashionablc mourning dress. Mr. Peter Horace, a gentleman who never in his life had evinced a liking for anything but money until he met Miss Marvale, sat attentively near. Dot Mayliurne in dolcful black. reclined in the uncompromising recesses of the big stifl’old sofa, with a sadness in her pretty face that appealed to every tender heart in her presence. \Villard Hayes, 9. young and peiiniless physican, and her most devoted admirer, supported her, figuratively speak- ing, of course, on her left. The deacons of the church sat in decorous silence, and one or two “oldest inhabitants” occupied the spare corners of the room. The reading be- an. 8 After the usual preliminaries it was found that all of Martha Marvale’s real estate, moneys, and personal properly were left unconditionally to her belovod niece Doro- thea Maybourne, excepting a few insignifi‘ cant legacies to church and friends. To Bertha. Murvale, in consideration of affec- tionate attention, she willed her favourite; foot-stool. Its many dear associations, 1 the fact that she had seen it for years 1 the support of her aunt’s wearicd ' feet, would indear it to her, and. as she often expressed a pious contempt for cainril , wealth, shr- would prize it above all earthly i dross. The whole fortune was not a munificent ; one, after all, and even Dot was not a rich ‘ woman. And she could only open her blue eyes in wonder while Willard Hayes smiled 7 l l ' brightly upon her and whispered his con- I gratulations. \Iiss Marvule’s face was buried in her bluclocdgcd hundkcrchicf and no one i could tell how she was affected. Mr. i lIorace ’3 face was a picture of blank dismay. 1‘_;c deacons looked glum, and said not a; word. Everybody seemed inclined to get' out of the way with as little ceremony as possible, and soon the cousins were left alone. ' “ 1 hope, Cousin Bcitlia, you will always make this house your home,” Dot began; tiiui-lly. “ You know this is as great a sur- prise to me as to you, and, while I am lad of a home and comforts for inamina, do, not want you to be poor or homeless. Can’t '- we all live together '1” “No, We can’t all liic together,” suap- , ped Bertha, coming out from behind heri pocket handkerchief. “ You are a. little nn- l tlcrhund cheat, and I wouldn't accept { charity from you if I were starving ! And it 5 is not necessary, as I am engaged, and Mr. llorace is amply able to see that 1 do not come to want.” Dot retired, overcome by the stupendous intelligence, as Miss Marvale intended shc ' should be. “ i am sure I congratulate you,” she mur- mured. “ And I hope, if ever you need a friend, you will not besilute~â€"” “ Bother your friendship E” exclaimed the , .rstc lady. rising: “ I think we can dis- 5 sense with each others company, and as Ii :annot ask you to leave your own house, ll will take the liberty of retiring myself.” That evening the will was discussed over i hundred tea-tables, and many queries, wanderings, and “I told you so‘s" passed to and fro. What the old lady had seen to tdinire in Dot so much, what had become if all the wealth she was supposed to have aimed, why she had left a paltry old otto- iian to Bertha, who had been so faithful, ii..l so forth. were all dutifully discussed, ind left as unsatisfactorin disposed ofas before. In a little meagre private office down town Mr. Peter Horace sat, with his head :csiing dejectedly in his hands, and a gen- eral air of forlorn despondency in his atti- tude. He had for forty years loved him- stlf, his money, and his single-blesscdnoss more than anything else on earth ; if ever a woman had stirred the religion under his shirt-front where his heart is an posed to boa". it was pretty. saucy, gay ittle Dot Maylinrne. And yet he had deliberately engaged himself to marry a plain, prim, elderly maiden who possessed nothing in the world more valuable than sworn‘out 7oot9tool ! , What a donkey he had been ! And how ind it come about? Why was not Bertha Slarvale the heiress. as he had calculated ipou! The old lady’s money seemed not intircly accounted for, either. Bertha had iied in the house for years. and he had deemed her a person of good sense ; yet she ainst have bungled in her management m'iichow. Then he burrowed deeper in his out- itretrlied arms, and thought it all over ogain. Suddenly a bright idea struc : him. Did not limple invariably, in stories and I trappedâ€"«I won’t stand it. romances. who‘had queer ola'legacies left them knock them bpieeas, sooner or lam; by accident, or in a fit of ill-temper, and find them stuffed full of gold pieces 2 . Thism certainly the solution of the co. centric gift, and it also accounted for the missing wealth which everybody seemed so sure existed somewhere. He sprang up and paced the room in a sprightly manner guite at varian' cs with histormer moody emeanor. " I will play the disinterested lover,” he said ; ” I will swear to be true, come weal or come woe, and thus gain the approba- tion of the entire community. “ I’ll marry the poor, disinherited Bertha Marvale, and at the very first. dawning of matrimonial infelicity I’ll kick that beastly foot- stcol viciously across the floor. Then won’t I be astonished to see the papers and gold roll out? Won’t. I clasp my tearful com- panion in my arms, magnanimously forgive her, and calmly take possession of her for- tune? Whata lucky idea ofmine that was 1” Miss Marvale was deeply gratified of be- ing assured of her lover’s devotion and disin~ .terestedness, and her spirit-s and dignity rose in proportion. Indeed, she carried herself in the presauce of her unpretending cousin as though she were the heiress and Dot the insignificant possessor of a footstool. She claimed the right to remain in the house which had been her home so long till she should be married from it, and, as far as appearances went, might as well have been the mistress of Marvule Mansion. Mr. Horace rented a pretentious house, and furnished it completely, referring with beautiful deference to his betrothed‘s team in everything. “ Be sure and bring your footstool," he said playfully, “ and we will dedicate a. whole corner to it. I would not keep house without it for the world.” And Miss Mar- vale thought this very delicate in him, as it might nr- turally be supposed the stool would be a disagreeable object. They were married, and the wedding was the “ event of the season.” Dot was not invited, but she was busily engaged else- where, and did not mind the neglect, and when Bertha left the old house to enter her brand new home, Dot and her happy hus- band, Willard Hayes, moved in. For a few weeks everything went on smoothly. Mrs. Horace carried herself with a great deal of dignity, as became the newly-married wife of a. well-to-do money lender and the mistress of a. handsome new residence. Indeed, the fashionable people of the place paid her more attention than they did the real heiress, who “as so little likes. wealthy matron that the fact was almost forgotten. Mr. Horace bore his happiness quiet- ly, and contained himself with .pa- tience. * Perhaps he was ‘ a little _irri- table in the privacy of the domestic circle but he was only preparing for the grand ino- nient when it would be appropriate to “ luck that beastly stoolclear across the room.” To be, sure, he might have suggested to his-Wlfe that they examine the stool, and see if it contained anything of value ; but she would peihaps la ugh at his whim, and would not allow it to be spoiled, and when the wealth was found she might suspect him of knownig something about it and of marrying her for it ; and, as be rather preferred peace to un- necessary squabbling lio wished the discov- cry to come about accidentally. _ _ At last, one evening, he found it standing directly in his way. Bertha, looking ap- prehensiver at herliiisband’sstern counten- ance. hastened to remove it, but he was too quick for her. A well-applied and forcible kick sent it dancing across the room, where it was shattered against the marble fireplace, Mr. Horace eagerly sprang to the spot, where Bertha regretfully followed him. He did look at it in amazement, as he had often pictured himself doing, but the amine- meat was very genuine. He grasped each piece, and shook it fiercely ; he tore every- thing apart that could be torn apart With furious haste. Alas, in vain ! At his feet lay a heap of broken mahogany, torn purple velvet, and dusty horsehairâ€"nothing more â€"nothing less. “ What do you mean ? 'What did you ex- pect to find '2” asked Bertha with trembling 1i 9. P“ Your aunt's legacy. I’ve been fooledâ€" IVhat have you done among you with all her money? She couldn’t have carried it with her.” Peter Horace was angry enough, as he strode up and down the room, to have demol- ished forty ottomaus, and Bertha Went into hysterics on the sofa. It was a dreadful blow to her vanity to think that she had not been “ married for herself alone,” after all : they had a terrible scene, but finally a sort of reconcilation was patched up. Both were too respectable to let the world know of their disappointment. and they agreed to keep the fate of her aunt’s lcgccy a secret. Bertha. owned that the old lady had given her £500 before she died, telling her she was not its rich as had been supposed, and that was probably all she would ever receive from her. Still, she had hoped against hope that more would fall to her share, and had only been reconciled by Mr. Horace’s seem- ing disinterestedness. With renewed devotion to business. and a little extra fleecing of customers on Mr. Horace’s part, they managed to retain their handsome residence and keep up appear- ances, which was, after all, what they both cared for most of anything in the world. â€"â€"â€"-.â€"â€"-â€"-â€"V Two Men Shot By a Sentry ' A Berlin correspondent telegraphszâ€"A fresh case has occurred of a sentinel firing with ball cartridge in the middleoftlic town upon two civilians. It must be admitted, however, that the soldier in this case acted onl under strong provocation. About mid- nig t on Friday a sentinel pacing to and fro in front of the barracks in the Wrangel- strasse was approached by two men, who began to call him names. The soldier call- ed upon them to desist, and they would have done so but for a woman in their com- pany, who cgged then: on afresh. The sol- dier thereupon loaded. and declaied them his prisoners. The two men pulled out their knife . but when they saw that the soldier was about to rire one of them run off. After thrice challenging him to stand, the sentinel fired, and struck him in the lowor part of the stomach, the force of the pro. ectile being so great that it passed through his body and hit another man, who had stopped to see what was going on. He stood with his hands in his pockets. and the bul- let passed through his thumb and thigh, and lodged itself in the wall of a house. The first man has since died. Contentment with to-day’s lot makes can. didacy for a better lot to-morrow. ~[Charles H. l’arkhum THE BRIE-SNAKE. I. lat us come away from this end of the garden,‘ Miriam Wardale said to her lover, as they walked up and down. “ You can’t think what an uncanny chill comes over me whenever I this way. Lhe proofs 0 some old crime must lie buried ere- h “ Nonsense, my darling,”auswered Roger Garnett, trying to laugh away her fears with assumed levity. » Her words had affected him strangely, for on approaching this remote end of the gar- den he had experienced a chill, sickly sen- sation himself. It was an old house at Highbury, the pro- perty of Miriam’s guardianâ€"just the sort of old house where an imaginative fancy can picture a hundred strange sights and sounds. ‘The present owner was well off, but he was a strange man and had let it go to rack and ruin. Weeds grew unchecked I feel as though in that garden. It was surrounded by high walls, and the roar of busy London was waited with s muffled sound to its green seclusion. “ Mr. \Vestwood used to keep this part fenced ofi', didn’t he 2'” Roger asked. “ Yes, untilâ€"until the other day. strange old vineis one that he brought over 'I'hat from abroadâ€"South America, I believe. \Vhen I expressed an interest in it, he had the seat placed under it for me.” “ That was very considerate of him, but his kindness does not extend to sanctioning our marriage.” “ Oh, he is good enough to me. It is not that butâ€"-â€"” “But what?” asked Garnett, glanciu g quickly at her; was she trying to conceal something from him? Bur. no, that could not be. They were in the very hey-day of their love ; distrust must not enter their Eden‘. ‘ - “ Oh, nothing,” she replied, “onlyâ€"only I don’t know why it is, but I have got to dread that spot.” So did Roger, and at that very he was racking his brains to think what moment ceiild be the cause. But he said nothing, for he knew that Miriam was not very happy there, and would not needlessly add to her cares. By this time they had reached the house, and Garnett 'soon took his departure; for he was there to a. certain extent on sufi'erance, not being exactly approved of as a. suitor to the young lady’s hand. II. That evening Miriam \‘Vardale was once more out walking in the garden; but this time with a totally different companion; her guardian, Robert Westwood. “Mr. Garnett has been again to see you today," he said, breaking a. long silence between them. ~ “Yes.” "‘ I have already said, Miriam, that I hardly approve of his attentions to you.” “ And I have reminded you that the time is not far distant when I shall be my own mistress.” He bit his lip, and a malignant look shot from his splendid black eyes; but it was gone in an instant, and a farsoftcr light had replaced it. “I only speak for your good. I think he is wild, and that he only wants you for your money.” “I don’t think so,” she answered, very quietly, but firmly. “Ali, if you had only consented to cast your fate in with mine,” he said in a. deep, passionate tone, “many things might have I am not old, you know.” Nor indeed “as be. He was barely forty, and did not look so much as that. A hand- some man, too, with a black beard ; and al- though now a peaceful citizen, he had just that dash of the adventurer about him which would have casta glamour over some women. But not so with Miriam Wardnlc. Her heart was too definitely gone elsewhere out of her own keeping. “ You are presuming on your position, Mr. IVestwood, when you speak to me like this. You accuse others ; what proof haveI of your own sincerity '2” , There was something which Miriam had It was this, for been different. concealed from her lover. the present was not the first painful scene of the kind which had taken place between her and her guardian. She had not spoken of it to liarnctt, because she thought to do so might only cause further mischief. VVestwood had by this time led her down to the old vine, and almost mechanically she had seated herself upon the be’nch. He stood a few feet away. ' “ Perhaps you may have cause to doubt my sincerity now. For your sake I would actually have settled down into everyday respectability. Otherwise I shall once more be an Ishmael, wandering by myself on the face of the earth, Without a hope in life. I would have been so kind to you, Miriam. You should not have had a wish ungratified. But you have changed me by your coldness _ 0u_____n k . ' There was a. strange gleam in his eyes. She sprang to her feet in terror, but the same sickly feeling as before came over her. The earth seemed to rise up and swim around her, and she fell unconscious among the branches of the vine. \Vestwood had not stirred a step to assist her. His face was livid‘; his lips were set and from between them there broke the words : “ \ ’liat have I done? done ‘5” ' Then he fled towards the house, as What have I though a thousand demons had been pur- suing him, and ordered the servants to go to the assistance of their young mistress, as she had swooncd in the garden. III. Two days later Roger Garnett called to see Miriam, and found the house in commo- tion. Miss \Vardale was seriously ill in bed, from which she had never risen since her fainting fit. Dr. Lameron, the family physician, was in attendance, and the young man anxious~ ly asked him what was the matter. “Frankly, Mr. Garnett," he answered, “I am pmled myself. It seems a nervous attack, complicated with wasting symptoms thatI ncver detected in her constitution before. Shcis a little better to-da , and you may rest assured that she is aving every care and attention. The amount of consolation contained in these words was not very great, and it was with a sad heart that Roger rose to take his departure. Miriam‘s forebodings on his last visit i was directed against her guardian. went down into the girdsa, thin ‘ leave quietly by the back a, but on he came face to face with - Westwood, who was pacing up and down. said, stoppin abort. “ I think I have be fore espresso my disapproval of your visits to my ward. I should net like to see any~ one marry her for her money. “You have no right to Say that to me, sir,” Robert Garnett answered hotly. “ She will soon be her own mistress, and I shall be thankful to be able to get her away from the baneful influences of this place. Tell me what this curse is which blights every- one who comes here ‘3” i “ What do you mean 2” cried \Vestwood, white with rage ; “leave my house?” And he so far forgot himself as to strike the young man across the chest. Both were passionate naturesâ€"the one generous, the other nialignantTâ€"and their blood it as up now, Garnett gave the other a blow which sent him staggering backwards among the bushes of the old vine. A wild cry broke from him : “ Not hereâ€"for God’s sakelâ€"no there l” But Roger did not heed him, and strode angrily away. u - Meantime, Robert \Vestwood tried vain- l to disentangle himself from the branches; but they surrounded him like the arms of some terrible monster. He seemed under the influence of a weird spell. The fibres encircled him closely, and soon he lay there calm and motionless. ._â€"_ IV. The following morning, at an carry hour, Roger Garnctt was pacing up and dowu the street, opposite Westwood’s house. He could not enter these doors again ; but he was in a feVer of anxiety, and felt that it was at least some comfort to be near Miriam. After he had been there some time, J eu- kins, the old servant, came up the area. steps and ran across the road to him, evi- dently much agitated. “Oh, Mr. Gsruett ! ” he exclaimed; do come in, sir.” “ Not now. morning ‘2 ” “ Very much better thank goodness ; but something has happenedâ€"something so terrible ! " “ To her? ” . “No, no; you must come in at once, Sll‘.” . “ I tell you I cannot.” “ You must indeed, sir. Dr. Cameron is there, and bade me fetch you.” Something in the man’s manner surprised Garnett, and he accompanied him to the house and up to the drawing-room. There stood Dr. Cameron with his back to the fireplace. “ \Vell, Mr. Garnett,” he said, “ Isup- pose you have heard the news '2 ” “No; Jenkins tells me you wish to see me, andâ€"â€"-" “ Mr. IVestwood is dead ! ” “ Dead he echoed. He could hardly be- lieve he heard aright. “ How did he die ?” “ That is a mystery, so far~as great a mystery as Miss Wardale’s illness, for the symptoms are the same. As for her, I am thankful to say she is out of danger now. The servants declare they saw you in the . How is Miss VVardale this garden with Mr. \Vestwood-â€"that high words were passing between youâ€"â€"â€"-” “ They may have seen him strike me. I struck him back.” “ And he fell among the branches of the vine,” Jenkins rejoined. “There I found him late last night; he was unconscious; we carried him in, and he never breathed He must have fallen when or spoke a sin. Did you not see him on struc him. fall ‘2” “ He certainly staggered,” replied Roger, “but I went away without looking back. You surely do not mean to suggest thatâ€" that he died by my hand ‘2" “ No, no, Mr. Garnett,” said old Jenkins ; “I ain’t superstitious, but I believe this house is haunted, and there’s a curse on the s at where that tree grows." “That’sbosh, you know,” said the doc- tor; “I thought you had more common sense, J enkins.” “ Well, sir, I only know this, that when poor master had it over from South Ameri- ca, the young man as planted it sickened and died suddenly.‘ Then Miss Miriam swooned at the same place.” “ From South America you say it came?” “ Yes, sir.” “ Well, anyway, let us go down and look at this wonderful tree.” . They all went down accordingly into the garden, Dr. Cameron a few paces ahead of the other two. He stood for some moments examining the fatal vine; then suddenly started back again, and rejoined them at a. much quicker pace than he had employed in going down. “ Keep back 3” he cried, “ keep back both of you as you value your lives 1” The usually calm physician was much excited. “ The thing must be burnt by whoever has : courage enough to go near it. It’s a Devil- Snare l” - “ A DeviLSnare l” echoed Garnctt, more bewildered than ever. “ You have never heard of the Devil- Snare of Nicaragua?” “ No never." “ Neither should I have done, that I have studied the botany of ; South America. It is a terrible | only plant which deals death to every- thing that comes ncar it. Its powers of suction are contained in a number of infini- tesimal months, which drain the blood from any living thing placed among is ghost~like fibres." It was even so. Robeit \Vestwood had had the horrible tree laced there with the diabolical intention o destroying Miriam’s lover by a death whose cause should re- main enveloped in mystery. Then, when she persistently refused his suit, he induced the poor girl herself to sit under the shade of its treacherous boughs. But the hand of God had frustrated his evil intentions, and he had succumbed to the same fate which he would have meted out to others. Miriam, now without a guardian. soon found a protector in a loving husband. She was married to Roger Corbett assoon as she hadrecovercd from the shock consequent upon these terrible events. __.â€".+_â€"_ A stout heart may be ruined in fortune but not in spirit.-â€"â€"{Victor Hugo. - Life is not so short but that there is al- ways time enough for courtesy-[Emerson Men of culture are the true apostles of equality. â€"{Matthew Arnold. n mosses 1mm. Asians as expected. Ireland Ins Been“- !lost Prune “fie-s. The annals of the Emerald Isle bristle With incidents of duelling in which Irish hu- “ Good "smug. Mr- Garnett.” the latter nior,if not at all times Irish bravery, is oeu- spicuous. On one occasion Sir Jonah Bar. riu ton-fen vht a duel with a barrister named Mci'ally. he latter had one Is shorter than the other, and because it was iis habit when in a hurry to take two thumping steps with the short leg to bring up the space made up by the long one he was nick~ named “ One Pound Two. ’ McNally could get no one of his bar to fight him and so be challenged Barrington, who good~natnrezily exchanged shots in the Phoenix Park. The 7 baronet hit his opponent in the braces, then ‘ called the “gallows,” and feared he had killed him. When the result was made known one of the seconds shouted : “ Mac, you are the only rogue I ever knew who was saved by the gallows." Sir Jonah Bar- rington givessevcral instances of duels in which the comic side of the Irish character ‘csme out. One of these occurred in 1773, when Mr. Frank Skeltou, a boisterous, jok- ing. fat young fellow, was revailed on, much against his grain, to ehal cuge the ex- ciseman of the town for running the butt end of a horsewhip down his throat when he slept drunk with his mouth open. In vain did he reuionstratc. The excisemau could snufi‘ a candle with a pistol ball, and he was as big as a hundred dozen candles. He was forced to the combat. Hundreds of eople came to see the fight on the green of liar) borough. The friends of each party pitched a ragged tent on the green, where whiskey and salt beef were consumed in abundance. Skeltou screwed up his cour- age with two heavy drama and each arty took pistols. “ Blaze away, boys l” be low- ed the seconds, and Skelton, minding his instructions to lose no time, let fly with one weapon. “ Halloo,” shouted the excisemen. “I’mbatteredby-r." Thedevil’scure toyou, _ said Skelton, finding his second pistol and bringing thoexciseiuan to his knees. Then, howevar, judging that if he gave the excise- mau time to recover his legs he might have to stand two shots, lie bolted as fast as his legs could carry him, followed by his second who cursed him for a coward. better to be a coward than a corpse.” How- ever, hc was dragged to the ground, and, luckily, the exciseman was too much hurt to shoot. On his recovering the latter in- sisted on challenging Skelton, 'who chose fists as the weapons and the affair dropped. I‘IRED UP THE CHIMNEY. Cornelius O’uowd,in one of his inimitable essays, tells us that once upon a time in the County of Clare aquarrel occurredin the hunting field between two gentlemen whom we will call Capt. Robins and IV. Jones, esq. Very hot words passed between them. “Let us settle the business at once,” cried the captain ; “ I have istols iii the house." “ Nothing better,” sai the squire : " I’m your mm.” It was at length decided that they should fight in the stable yard at fif- teen paces, cach man to hold a lantern as a mark for his opponent. “ \Vliere are you, you scoundrel ?” cried the captain, when they came out into the' "yard. “ I’m here, you shoe-black,” replied the squire. “Stand out bold,” said the captain. “ It's what I’m doing,” said the other. “ Give the word and no more talking.” “ Got behind the pump, Yer Honor, get behind the pump before you fire,” whispered the groom, ul- liiig the captain by the coat. Ho di so and when they blazed it was the squire who got it and it was more than three months before he could get out again. A ropos of this duel in the dark there is a eautiful but pathetic anecdote of two men, the one a “ kind man” and the other a. “ timid man,” who. finding themselves unhappin bound to fight, chose the dark-room duel. The “ kind man” had to fire first and, not wish- ing to hurt his adversary, groped his way to the chimney-piece,and placing the muzzle of his pistol straight up the chimney pulled the trigger, when, to his consternation,with a. frightful yell down came his adversary, the “ timid man,” who had selected that fatal hiding place. How prevalent duelling was in Ireland may be gathered from the fact that men of the highest dignity and most responsible position were ready to eat fire and taste steel. The Lord Chancellor, Lord Claire, fought the Masterof the Rolls, Curran. The Chief Justice, Lord Clonmel. fought Lord Tyrawley and two others. The Chancellor of the Exchequer, Isaac Corey, fought Henry Gruttan. The provost of Trinity College, Mr. Henry Hutchinson, fought the Master in Chancery, Mr. Doyle. O’Connell fought and killed Mr. d’Esterre, the chain- pion of the Dublin corporation, and, as Bar- rington, says, the duel “was fatal to the champion of Protestant ascendancy. These are not the only eminent Itisliincn who fought duels, for Sir Jonah Barringtoii states that duringI his “grand climacteric, ” 2'27 memorable and official duels had been fought. He tells of one man who had fought no less than sixteen duels, and Mr. S. C. Hall describes a field near (lastlebur where it was stated that sixty fatal duels had taken place, the last being that of an uncle who had shot his nephew or anephcw who had shot his uncle. ._...â€"â€" Discovery of Human Bones. An interesting discovery of human bones was made on Saturday afternoon last at Hastings, Ema, as some excavations were being made to form a carriage drive to a new church which has just been erected for the use of railway men. The edifice is built on a patch of land which has for years been used as a kitchen garden, situate below the old castle walls on the western side. The workmen first came across a skull, and on digging carefully unearthed six skeletons almost complete, and in one especially, all the teeth were found. The bones were sub- mitted to Dr. Redmayn, who states that they were those of young men, and ventures an opinion that the place was a disused burying ground connected with St. An- drew’s Church : but haying made a careful survey of the round a correspondent doubts this, and thii s that during the wars which followed the battle of 1066 a trench was dug on the western side as well as the deep one there, the latter being still shows to visiv tors. The discoveries will probably lead to a thorough investigation, and the bones are to be kept. W Our Modern Homes. Mrs. Lincrusia Waltonâ€"“ I like the dc. sign of this wall paper very well ; but I can not take it.” Salesmanâ€"“ Why not?" Mrs. Lincrus:aâ€"-“ It is too thick. It is my flat I am going to paper, and I hate to economize space as much as possible." ” Sure it's 1 ._ u w’,'3.~caa-\.M o m.,â€"..s-..â€"q um-.." pmw W 1% mm- m I. P I. 5