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’ BEYOND RECAL'. CHAPTER I.-â€"Liks .i Tnizr. A clock was striking eleven as I stood still to listen on Richmond Hill. I was too early by an hour. There was time for a rest be- fore gain any further, and I needed it. From 01 Street Road, Shoreditch, to Richmond, is not much of a walk for a young man of tWenty, in good condition; but when a man’s heart is heavy, and he had eaten nothing since midday (and then but bread and cheese), a march like that late at night makes him shaky at the knees and sick. I sat down on one of the benches under the elms on the terrace there, overlooking the river. The moon was not to be seen, but its light was diffused in the white, woolly mist that hung in the still air. The fallen leaves Were covered with moisture;heavydrops from the boughs above plashcd down nowaud then as if it had been raining recently. The gas burnt sluggishly in the lamp hard by, the mist forming a halo about it. I remember noticing these things, for my mind was ina condition to receive the impression of trifles â€"just as the fall of a pebble may be marked after a fall of snow has buried the earth. It was chill aswellasdamp. I felt it,sitting therestillafter the warmth of a alking. Iturn- ed my collar up, and hunched my shoulders up, sticking my hands deep in my pockets. The policeman on the raised causeway be- hind might well pause to look down and speculate upon the kind of man I was, and the reason of my coming here to sitin the horrid fog at such an hour. After glancing behind me to know whose heavy step had stopped, I settled my cars down in my collar again. It was cold. “ Never mind; it’s better to put up with a shiver than to walk about and grow weak with fatigue,” thought I. So I sat there, watch- ing the drops run zigzag, by fits and starts, down the glass of the lamp, as they flowed from a touching spray of elm, till the police- man, having rounded the corner and come along the terrace, stopped in trout of me, planted his thumbs in his belt, gave me a nod, and spoke. ” Well, old man ; got the key of the street '3” he asked. I did not then know the meaning of the phrase, but I answered, “ No,” briefly, feeling disinclined to meet his familiar ap- proaches. “ Out 0’ collar ‘2” he asked, in the cheer- ful, high-pitched tone of conscious superior- ity. “ No,” I answered as before. “ Going to stay here all night 2" H No " ' T “ \Vhy you’re all nose, like a poll par- rot,” said he, with a laugh at his own mis- erable witticism. “.Ain’t you got nothin’ else. to say? What are you thinking about?” “ I'm thinking,” said I, “ that if I wore a decent suit of clothes, you wouldn’t trou- ble yourself to ask -me about affairs that don’t concern you." “ You may as well be civil, young feller, or I may move you on a little sharper ’an what you looks for. It’s my duty to keep an eye on dangerous characters, and you’ve got a face like what’s more oft-en seen in a dock ’an elsewhere. I turned aside, leaning my shoulder on the back of the seat in silence, to signify to him that I had no wish to quarrel or make friends. .“Oh, you may turn your back to the gas,” he continued ; “ but I’ve got 3 our face printed on to my mind, and I could identify you on the book as sure as if I’d got your photograph in my note-book. I could ” He waited for me to replyâ€"for even a dispute must be an agreeable relief to the monotony of night dutyâ€"but getting not a word more from me he presently went off with measured step, slipping his lantern in his belt, and giving me one more scowl over his shoulder. The half hour chimed ; I might move on now without waiting for the constable's aid; it was too chill sitting theref The policeman was standing in the shadow of a tree, not far from where he had left me. He made himself known by turning the light of his lantern as I passedâ€"a gratuitous insult, as it seems ed to me. I wondered if he really thought 1 was a thief; perhaps my jaded look justi- fied the suspicion. I turned down towards Ham, by the path through the field, and got out into the lower road. The mist there was thicker than above, so that it was difficult to keep to the path. A dull, yellow spot of light guided me onward from one roadside lamp to the next. I had gone but a hundred yards or so along the road, when I heard the shrill sound of a policemou's whistle behind me. It was a stupid thin v to make an enemy of that constable. I dill not want him on my hrcls. “'us be following me? I stood still mi looked back. Nothing was visible but the grey mist and the dim glow of the lump I huii pzi-sed. I held my breath to listen, and. hearing no sound, came to the con- clusion that, having followed me down the hill, and there being at a loss which way to turn, be. had given up the pursuit, conteutv ting himself wuh a vindicativc whistle. It is ii law of nature, thought I, the strong pvtirputc the weak ; and this fellow is no worse than the well-fed dog who snaps at a starved and spiritlcss cur. With this rellcclion I was about to go on again, when a quick, hecvystep fellsudden- 1y upon my car, and a man passed so close that I could hear his deep breathing and mstiuguish his silhouette against the light- or buckground. It was a second constable, hastening to answer the call of my first ac- quaintance. He must have cut across the strip of common that borders the road in that part. The damp turf made his approach noiseless until he gained thc hard pathway. He did not see me, that is certain, for the inouicnt after he reached the read he broke into a run us the whistle was blown again. I waited till the retreating footsteps grew faint, and then I hurried on towards Ham with all the haste and silence possible, for if_the police got upon my scent the int-pose with which} had come here would 0 frus- trated. \\_ hen I got through the village, and. stopping, heard no sound, I felt safe. About hall a mile beyond Ham is an estate which at that time had recently been pur- chased by Mr. Percival 'l‘hane. It dcrivcs its name, the "Cedars," from a ma- jestic avenue of those trees which line ihc Carriage drive from the road, by the i-iier-sidc to the house. In the front we grounds are separated from the road by a pur of enormous iron gates and a lake. The filtlv'fl arc ph‘lCCKCd by heavily buttress- ed brick walls ten feet high, but the back is cut 03' from the adjoining park by a wooden paling, then in course of repair. By an opening in these paling: I got into the grouan easily, for I knew my way well. I was not afraid of pursuit. The police would never think of looking for me here, whither only one could make his way on such a night who was accustomed to grop. ing along the walls in the dark. Yet 1 had to approach the house with caution. The clock in the belfry over the stables had - struck out twelve just before I reached the “Cedars.” Idle people don’t go early to bed like those who have to be in their work- shops by six in the morning. Some of the servants might yet be about. There had been a fierce storm a few days before; and the ground in the little wood was covered with fragments of rotten boughs that creak- ed sharply under foot. It was a relief when I reached the wicket and felt the soft turf of the paddock under my feet. By an- other wicket I entered the garden, and now skirting the inside of the high wall I drew near the house. It was black as night when I reached the shrubbery. There was no possibility of distinguishing the path from the borders. Presently I drove my I foot with a crash into a bell glass, and for a few minutes I stood in doubt whether to beat a retreat or go on ; then, as no sound indicated that my misadventure had raised an alarm, I ventured to push on again. A dozen cautious paces brought me to an opening. The lawn was before me now, and looking across I made out a feeble point of light that showed where the house stood. Keeping close to the shrubbery, I skirted the lawn until I was close enough to the house to make out the sashes of the one window illuminated from within ; then I stopped. The blind was down; the time had not yet come. The clock close at hand struck oneâ€"the sudden clang in the perfect silence scaring me; yet still I stood there. with my eyes on the blind, shivering with cold and men- tal agitation. Ten minutes more passed and then a corner of the blind was raised. I had shot in my hand ready; I threw them and heard them patter upon the verandah under the window. The blind dropped iimr ediately, and I crossed the lawn to the south side of the house, with which the domed conservatory is connected, and there at the door I wait- ed, shivering with cold, and apathetic like a dog waiting to be let in. I heard a key turn in the lock, and the door grating as it opened ; then a. soft voice asked, in a whisper, “is that you, Kit ?” “ Yes,” I answered in a sullen undertone. “ Here are the india-rubbers. Be care- ful; they have only just gone up.” I had grown callous to depredation. It was nothing to me now to play the part of a sneaking thief. Without a word I took the overshoes and slipped them on my feet, as I kicked 0E my old shoes one after the other. The girl coming from the light could not see me as distinctly as I saw her. She waited there till I told her I was ready; then she turned about, and, feeling lier' way with outstretched hands, retraced her steps noiselessly through the conserva~ tory, and I followed, softly closing the door behind me. \Ve passed through a. room where the foot sank deep in the yielding carpet. “If I had but; a few feet of this for my bed, thought I ; what a luxury!” There wasa light in the hall. The reflected rays glittered here and there in glass and polished funiture, and costly nicknacks. My guide, raising her finger in warning, went on first to the Vfoot of the great stairs, to make sure that no one was stirring, and then beckoned me. At one time I would have scorned to follow any woman in this ignoble manner; but that time was passed ; now my only feeling was of hunger and cold. “I hope there’s a fire and something to eat up here,” thought I, as I stealthin followod along the - corridor past the chambers where the household were asleep. W e came to a door that stood partly open, and went in. It was like a drawing room. You wouldn’t have known it for a. bed chamber but for the bed with its sides down, quilt and tent hangings of blue satin covered with lace, and a glimpse of the toilet room be- [youd The pancls of the doors were painted to match the hangings of the bed, the win- ] dow curtains and the quilted stuffing of the . chairs and loungesâ€"a pale blue picked out with gold. There werc cabinets of beautiful workmanship in the corners'rilled with pretty triflcs, slender stands for cut flowers, and tables for every useâ€"all that caprice could I suggest or ingenuity supply to an extrav- agant taste. But I took no notice then. of these things â€"I was too cold for that. Leav- I inn my companion to fasten tlie'door, I hastened across the room, and, sinkng on my knees in the soft, thick liearthrug, I I spread out my clammy, cold hands to catch the generous glow of the fire. “Are you so cold, dear?” said a voice behind me presently, in a low, tender tone of commiscration. I turned round without rising and 1001;- ed up, my eyes blushing at first, for I was ! dazzled, as if I were looking at a greatlight. l ' The wrap in which she had mufllcd herself Elo fetch mounts thrown off, and now her lhead, her neck, and her arms were bare. l She wore an evening dress of delicate rose- pink, and a thick silk that, following the line of her figure to the waist, brokc there i into sharp folds, like ii drapery of the old 9 wood-carvers. A glow of light clung about the fabric, making her arms look like un- polished marble, just as her face was made i whiter by contrast with her dark hair coil- fcd upon her head. Diamonds sparkled on i her slender throat, and on her wrists and hands. Looking upwards at her she seemed taller and more graceful than ever I had seen her before. The fine curves of he: ' figure were those of a woman rather than a girl of eighteen, There was'no color in her face. Her eyes were large and dark, and a I tear of pity added to their lustre. That is what Isaw, and whatI see now as I write. It was a vision to impress itself forchr on my mind. In the soft glow of the wax lights she stood there, bending over me. It recalled to my mind a picture I had seen of Diana descendiu to Endymion on Setnios. But what an En ymion ! My eye, travelling down to herlittle foot, _ in its buckled shoe and light silk stocking, i fell upon my red hand as rested it for sap- pori on the rugâ€"on my frayed cuff and threadbare sleeveâ€"on my “thief‘s friend," aswe in Shoreditch called those in iiidia~ : rubbersâ€"on my coarse sock and mudcaked l fringe on my corduroy trousers. A reek of M before mill was more than Endymion to Diana. TheyMere lovers; we, alas, were liqusloi- and poverty rose with a steam from! “ Why. a year's wages at that rats was weak enough, base enough, must it husband and Wife ! CHAPTER II. CAUGHT. my sodden clothes. Yet to this young and beautiful ere tare “ Are you so cold, dear, that you cannot speak to me 1'" she asked again in mournful reproach. “ Yes, and I am hungry and wet,” I add- ed, sharply, as she put her hand upon my shoulder and bent lower. But that warn- ing did not prevent her kissing my cheek. There are misfortunes that soften a man’s whole nature ;miue had hardened my heart and made me brutal. I lost sight of her when I looked at myself, and the moment- ary feeling of delight and admiration chun - ed to loathing and disgust. “ Why should I be thus, ragged and starving, an ob- jcct to be pitied by my wife ‘2" I asked ‘ myself. ~ “ Why should I be compelled to shiver in the fog till the household was at rest, that I might cree stealthily, like a thief at her heels, to her rooms ‘2" It was all my own fault‘; yet, !soured by misfortune, brutalised by hard- ship, 1 bore a. a raucorous ill will towards my poor wife, as though she were the cause of my sufferings. I had not the grace to acknowledge her kiss. Moodin I bentovcr the fire, unbottoning my jacket that the heat might get at my chilled body. Swiftly and silently she brought a’table to the fireside, and set out the contents of a lunch basket she had prepared for me, and then, having set a chair before it, she again laid her hand tiinidly on my shoulder, and said » “ I have your supper ready, Kit.” On that I got up, and seating myself in the chair ran my eye greedin over the good things. She poured out a tumbler of Bur- gundy; I gulpcd it down, and then attack- ed the hamdeaving the chicken till my crav~ ing was ,first satisfied with more solid food, All this time I spoke never a word, not even to thank her for the provision she had made. - “ Papa gave a dinner party, and some of 1 the gentlemen did not leave till past twelve; that is why I had to keep you so long wait- ing,” said my wife, apologetically, thinking that my ill-humor arose from this cause. “ And that is why you are dressed up like a princess,” muttered I, glancing at her malignantly. She made no reply. Per- haps she gave me yet credit for sufficient sense to see that she must receive her I father’s guests becomingly, and t-hatto have changed her dress after their departure would have prolonged my stay outside. As y I glanced at her I perceived that she had taken off her diamonds, in deference prob- ' ably to my senseless susceptibility. “ Why have you removed your trinkets ‘2” I continued. “Are you afraid I shall take 5 hem ‘3" _ “ Oh, Kit l” she said, clasping her trembl- ing hands, and with supplicution in her l tender eyes. I pushed my glass towards é her to refill, and having done With the ham ‘began upon the fowl. “ Who has been here to-night ?” Iasked, after eating in silence a while. “ Some boating gentlemen, to whom we were, introduced yesterday by Major Cleve- den. ’ “ And who’s Major Cleveden '3” “A friend of papa’s. They were very int-i- mate in India; and,” she added,admonitive- ‘ly, for I had raised my voice in speaking, I “ he sleeps in the next room.” “ Oh, he is staying in the house ” “ He has been with us a week. He came the very day after you were here.” “ \Vhere’s his wife ‘2” “ He is not married.” “ I see ; your father thinks he would be a suitable catch for youâ€"anything with a title â€"-anything that would givc him a place in . society.” I had fallen now into a. jealous mood. V “ Major ()leveden is old enough to be my father,” said she, with a look and an accent l which showed how innocent she was of sus- v pecting the thing I spoke of. “ But he is a 1 real friend, for all that,” she continued, her i spirit rising in revolt against the‘unmerited fharslmessâ€"“a friend whom I could trust Ewith my life; generous and kindâ€"yes as l generous and kind as you were once, Kit.” I pushed my plate away and turned to the fire. “ Yes.” thought I, “ when one is , rich it is not difficult to be generous ; in a ; moral sense or in a material sense the thing ,is equally true. And I was rich then in iliope and courage ; now I’m a beggar in ,cvcrything, and all my feelings are sordid ' and moan and base. I’m done for. ” , Hebe crept to my side, and kneeling on i the rug leaned her arms upon my kncc . (though she would have shrunk from plac- ing her delicate skin in contact with such lfoul stuff as my trousers were made of at another time), and looking up into my face, ' with all her sweet tenderness, she murmur- cdâ€" . “ It is only eleven months ago dear.” I kucw what she meant. It was eleven months ago that she ran away for a day from the Parsonage to be clandestinely mar- ried to me. That was just before I left Fel- fortune.” .. How we loved each other then ; how we clung together as the time came to “ part; how she ran weeping after me to say good- bye" oncc mote when we had torn ourselves apart ; how we promised each other to meet again quite soonâ€"as soon as I had found employment, and got a little home ready for her! Oh, she wouldn’t mind how small it was, or what privations she was put to, so that we could only live together. That was before her father came home with half a million of money; before she knew what it was to wear silk and diamonds ; before I had found that my skill, which passed for genius in a small provincial town, was look- cd 11 n as ver ' poor talent in London. “ I‘llmught had the world on a string then,” said I. “ You felt your power, dear ; that is all. You knew you had gifts of a high order. 0h, every one said there was no one so clever. You cannot. have lost your talent 3" “ No," said I bitterly. “ I have just enough left, and the consciousness of it, to make me a bad workman. That’s all it’s good for. I've yet got to find my level and reconcile myself to it before I can be a steady workman. There are thousands of follows with as much skill as I have at woodmrw ingâ€"I know it‘thourands who would be glad to work at the bench ten hours a day for eighteen shillings a week 2" “ Eighteen shillings a weekâ€"would that keep us two, Kit 2" she asked hopefully. I laughed. I 1 tenhaiu to come to London and “ make my will throw you at the head of that. follow I l l ’D ~‘V __._., ...._.. ‘H wouldn’t buy the dress you are wearing,” in my pocket. But the consciousness of my said L . own indigui made me savage, and going “ I could do without it," said she. “ I back to the o d theme I tortured my poor wore nothing but stud eleven months ago." little wife with my jealous taunts until she That softened my heart. But I Was not Wept, and I fell asleep in the chair. It was such a fool in worldly matters as I hid been thus our meetings generally ended. Hobo a year back. Ay, we were fools then, in- watched over me. ' 0h Heaven, what acou- deedâ€"boy and girl tools, nothing more. trust between ustwo! She seventeen ; I only just in my twentieth I know not how long I had been asleep year. It should be illegal for such simple when I woke with a start, hearing a shrill tons to marry. A year in London had opeu- whistle. For the moment I thought I had ed my eyes, an i I had used them to advau~ been 'lresinin of the police that followed tags in learning something of the reality of me down the ill. lint there was my wife lite. siltiug beside me and clutching nfv Min. “No; I’ve done one foolish thing. I’ll Then another whistle sounded outside bo- not do another of the same sort. That would low the window. be just a crime,” said I. “ What is it '2" gasped Hebe. “ A crime ! I don’t understand you. A window sash was thrown up, audible What foolish thing Kit 3" enough to our strained ears. “Supposing I settled down to the life of A voice called out, " W he's there 2” a plodding artisanâ€"suppose I got a place at Then from below came the clear reply- eighteen shillings a week '3" ” Police, sir ! Come down and let us in, H Yes," said she cheerfully, drawing it please. And let some one look to that little closer. room on your ri ht. There‘s a light there, “ Supposing I could manage to get some and there‘s burglars in the house l” sort of a home for youâ€"a. room in the sub- (To BE coxnmmn.) urb With a. few SLISRSIOI ifur‘iiiiture, wlielre V _ on would have to o t is l ru gery; am we - cribbed up all day while I was at work ‘3" I Apprentith Afterward‘ looked down to see what effect this pictu c There are times when men have to be made upon her; She was actually smiling. treaicdlike children : when they are very The dreamy look in her eyes showed than ill, for instance, or when they are in im‘ she was not thinking of the hardships and minent danger which must be averted first miseries, only of the romantic sentiment as- and explained afterward. A member of cri ed to the bearing of burdens by loving the Alpine Club read a paper before that heuns_ body on the comparative skill of travellers “ Yes, dear,” she said again, encourag- and guidesâ€"a question of great practical ing|y_ interest to mountain climbers, and one as to “ Do you know what wouldhappcn then ‘3” Which there exists a considerable difference I asked_ of opinion. He began his paper by relating She held her head on one side, and, look- mllflllecdote : ing in the fire wistfully, said, after a ino- Some years ago a member of this club meut’s imagining of the worst_that could WG-8 ascending a small and easy peak in haPPenâ€" company with a famous Oberland guide. “ I’m afraid papa Would be very angry. ” Part of their course lay over a snow-field “ That’s certain enough. You’ve told me smkmggradually on one side, and ended enough about him to show that he loves him- Sharply by a precipice on the other. self more than he loves you, That‘s only The two men were walking along, not natural. He wouldn’t have sent you to Eng- far from the edge of this precipice, when land, and lived alone in India for sixteen the EDBHShmfi", thinking that an easier years otherwise," path‘might be made by going nearer the w The doctor ordered me to be sent, to edge, diver ed a little from his companion’s England, dear, when I was a child.” track. To iis surprise the guide immedi- “ Yes ; but the doctor did not order him ater caught lIOld 0‘ him, and plilled him to live in India, till he was an old man," back with more vigor than ceremony, near- “ “Yen, dear 2" said she, admitting the ly throwing him down in the operation. conclusion \vith a, si. h_ \Vrathful, and inclined to I‘CIvllI‘Il “ His purpose in coming to England was , the compliment,‘ the Englishman ruinou- to get what money could not procure him {titrated- The guide’s only answer was to out thereâ€"a position in society. He is ambi- 113011”: to a small crack. apparently like tious. You have said so. Your beauty has scores Of other Cl‘uCks in tho icy SHOW. encouraged him to hope for an alliance which E Which ran for Some distance parallel to the will favor his designs even more than his , edge 0f the Pl‘eclpice. and about fifteen feet wealth. If he found you were married to : from it. such aâ€"a thing as I, even he would abandon 'lhe traveller was not satisfied, hilt W113 on to the man of your choice, and go back I too.wise to spend time in dispute while a to India, taking his precious money with ‘ desired summit was still some distance him_” above him. They went on their way, gain- “ \Vell, dear,” she said again 8.31 paused, ed the top. and the traveller’s equanilnity “ you do not “'ant his money,” was restored by 8. splendid view. “ No, not a penny of it.” _ When, on the descent, the scene of tho “Nor I,” with a. cheerful shake of he): morning's unpleasantness was reached, the pretty head. guide painted to the little crack in the “ You would be content with the single SHOW. Wllicll had grown perceptiny Wider. room,” V “This,”.he said, “marks the place where “ And you, Kit, '3” the true snow-field ends. I feel certain I coum go no further for the minute, look. that the ice from here to the edge is noth- ing down at her little face all aglow with ; mg but an unsupported cornice banning love. She stretched up her arms and drew Over the tremendous precipice beneath. It my face down to her lips, and my brain ‘ might possibly have borne your weight in swam as if I had been suddenly broughtout ' curly morning. though I don’t think it of the darkness face to face \vith a, glimpse would. A8 to \Vlltlb lb will bear DOW that of paradise. It was a return of the old I a powerful sun has been on it for some time dream of simple days. It passed. I was ‘ -â€"-wliy, let us see !" aWake again. “'ith that he struck the snow on the “ Yes, your father would abandon you to I: further side of the crack with his axe. A huge mass, twenty or thirty feet long, at once broke way, and went roaring down the man of your choice,” I said. “ \Vell, dear ‘2” she said once more. “ You see nothing more than that ‘2" the cliff. “No, nothing.” The Englishman shivered to think how “ I do. You see what hunger and cold do near he had come, even on an easy moun- for incâ€"they make me a brute. I must be ; tum andun smilmg weather, to going down hungry and cold again. The privaticns I the preCipice in just such an avalanche. suffer you must suffer also. That will not ADAM S HEIGHT. add to my contentment. Your love must die. You must think with regret of all you havegsacrificed. You must wish that we had never metâ€"wish me dead. \Vc must The Statements nm'cr Widely, But Somcof hate each other.” Them Are Very Precise. . She Stol‘Ped me: flying “ No l “0,! "0 I have often wondered where M. Henrion in terror, and covering her month With her the French swam got his dam for the cur: hand, as though she feared ‘her emotion ions speculations 3,8 gives as to the height would force “Waller 1*, betray 138 or)!" and other proportions of Adam and Eve. “ X °“ wouk 2 I .ms‘st’edi Yo.“ d." “0” i In his remarkable work, “ The Degenera- knO‘jV “311W hard3111179 are; What hfe “5 yerI tion of the Human Raco,"publishcd in 1718, awhile. _ , , the learned academician gravely informs ‘I‘ “’ ‘3 enmml' g? 9“ for ever llke “"5, K";- his readers that Adam was 123 feet and 9 It 1511 13 natural ; It 18 t0” cruel- inches in height, while his disobedient con- _ “ Life is cruelil" I :33“ l and the“ lapsmg sort was but a paltry 118 feet from the sole mto “‘OOdy med‘tat’lo"! I added, vaguely! of the foot to the crown of the head. 0! “ N0, “'9 03-01109 8’0 0" like lhis‘ Something course all who have read very extensively must be $10133- ‘Vho were those me“ Who of Talmudic literature. or oven Baring- dmed llcl‘e .’_ Gould’s “ Legends of the Patriarch Proph- “ Officers "1 the army, two of them! “Tl l eta,” remember the wonderful stories told another was Lord Somebody. I forget his of how Adam was made ; of his gigantic Hame- It? d’filesuyt matter- Don’l’ “wiry size, andliow, after the fall, his stature was 81301117 themo She 5”" my face 010mm”; reduced several miles by the offended God himself. The Talmud has this to say of Adam’s height: “He was so tall that he stood with feet on earth and head in Heaven until God pressed him down at the time of {she fall.]” Rabbi Jliuda‘ says that when lie ' , ay on ‘. to earth “ his )Oll com lctcl cov- :: 395v yo? do know! , I muttered' ercd it.” Another Talmudibstorg'snyill: “to 1â€"1 think Pill?“ 83"“ them “ general judge how lon I he was, understand that his invitation.” ,u H body stretchc from one end of the earth to Yes, and you know they come- 0 the other, and it takes a man 500 years to [n again. “ But it does matter. Of course they are invited to come again.” “ I don’t know.” Her voice quavcred with fear. She knew thatjealousy was get- ting the mastery of me. walk that distance. The angels were awod with wonder when they saw that gigantic human being and bowed before him, crying, ‘IIoly, holy, holy.’ Tlicn God reduced his size by cutting off rcat chunks of flesh.” These are all absurl lc eiidaiy stories, of course, but where did Icnrion get his fig- ures for the Bil-foot calculation mentioned in the opening? with thehandle before his name. I’m glad I didn’t know they were here. I should have gone mad, as I shivercd out there in the fog, if I had known that you, down there amongst the flowers, were smiling at men and listening to their flattery. Oh, they’ll come again 3 You had better not tell me next time,” I added, fiercely. Then in- consequently l pursued, for I could not get the gnawing suspicion out of my heart, “ Those diamonds were put on to please them: which you took off not to offend me. Perhaps you did not wish me to know that you had been decking yourself out to fascin- ate those men ‘2" She rose, and, fetching the diamonds, said, gentlyâ€" “ Take them away with you, Kit." - “ No ;it hasn’t come to that yet," said I brutally. “I came here as a thief, but I leave empty handed. I’m ashamed when I think that I owe your father for what I have eaten. But I’ll finish that bottle nev- ertheless,” and I ured out and drank an- other tumbler of firgundy. It did me good. I was warm enough now, and sinking my head on my shoulders I sank down into the soft quilted chair, and stretch- edm legs out before the fire. “ fyou would take my purse, dear,” whispered my wife, leaning over me, “ on] as a loan, it Would help you to face your troubles with more courage ; then you would overcome them, and getting on little by little you could pay me back again." She slipped a purse into my hand, and I 1.16st2 WILL 0111'. A filrnlliroy Mun Confesses his films After Ten Yearsâ€"lie Killed lit» Psi-t- her. A Harrisvillc, Mich., dcspatch says :â€" Upon examination Alfred Henshaw, one of the most wealthy citizenshcre, broke down and confessed to a brutal murder committed by him at Strathroy, 0nt., ten years ago. Henshaw was a lumbermsn in Strathroy, and begame involved in financial troubles. His partner, Richard Drake, found fault With his conduct, and one night in aquarrcl Henshaw stabbed him to death in the office. locked thebodgoin the safe, and fled. Ten days later the dy was discovered, but no clue could be found to the murderer. Largo rewards were offered, but nothing came of them. Six months ago a son of Drake offer- ed two local detectives SLOW) if they should. Capture his father’s murderer. The men ac. cepted, and after a long chase through New York,Mexico San Francisco. Chicago, and Michigan they finally located hzahaw here. ,:J_‘