Hugh follows me down-stairs and into the Mk pnrlour. “ Aunt Willa, we have found my uncle's ï¬ll I" " You hove found the will 2" my aunt ex- eklme sitting erect in her chair, with 3 deep brick-red colour in her cheeks. “Do you tell no you hove found the will 1'" “ ugh ‘found itz': luneweregl, setting ALâ€" A “ Ho [1 found it," 1 unawered, settin the can la down on the table deliberately. N \thm 9" For a moment I am tempted to con- sign the thing to the limbo where it has lain for so many years. But then I think that it in nomcnee to suppose it can make any change in the Essition of affairs, even if it ehonld prove to the missing will. My uncle had never made any secret of his in- tention of leaving Grayacre to me, and it is not very probable that he changed his mind within a month of his death. My mother was his only sisterâ€"he had never had a brother. The next of kin would be the “'illa Treeeilian who had gone out and eettled in Canada, or his descendants. But these were ao diarantly related to my uncle that they had no claim upon the property beyond the mere fact of bearing the name name. Even the fanciful injustice of leav- ing a place to in Ludlow which had belonged to Trcaailiane for centuries had been appar- : ently avoided, as at the time of my uncle‘s death I was engaged to be married to a son ‘ of, thin very Willa Treeailian of La Hougue ‘ " But who could have put it in the gshle sttio l" . “ M uncle Denial must have put it there himse ." Like e delirious person snnt “’ills stores at me with diluted eyee. " Have vou read it, Joen Ludlow 3" “ No. Nobody has reed it." " It is tied up and sealed,†Hugh says, exsmining it. †Whether it is the missing will or not, this document is certainly a lepnl instrument of some kind, though it any be nothing but on old expired lease," " Let me look et it." - “ Ymi had better lock it up in your own duh. Juan." 1 put it any In the wdnnt bun-an. A. Aunt Will- take: it, but her htnd shakes no that she immodineiy lets it fail. Hugh stoop: to pick it up. “ Itâ€"will mule no difference 2" I uh, in n sudden panic, my lips almost refuting to tame the question. " It doe- not take 0922ch “-mem we 3" , , "Throw it Iwny !°’-â€"lanh humbly. “Itln not very prohblo t uh.“ like to throw “my Gnyncro. "’ “I mp not" “ 1 lb adviu you to send for \\ inder Curti- w- -morrow. Hugh suggest. avely, ï¬nding on the rug Wlth hi. hefto the ï¬re. “ 8They will know At once how to plo- coed" “ \ «4. "I newer stupidly. " (mod night Mint \\ illsâ€"good nivht, cousin “nah. W ill you Ezeep it for me till to -.morrow ’ ’ “ Weit e moment," Hugh says ; and put- ting the candle on the edge, he springs *throngh the opening, returning in a moment with something in his hand like e paper whet, inch-thick with dust. “ What have you there 2†“ The missing .m u “ \Ve cannot. do thnt. I suppose we are bound to make the thing pnbhc, now than we have found it 2†“'No," annt'WillI nay- without looking at ma. “ It does not take Gnyocm uuy from you unless you choose to throw it “my." “Thra- 3t 1'.†I"_I-nnlul‘n L-..LI_ the openihï¬. " I never went further thi’n this in my fe, nor anybody else that I know of. Whnt do you see I" “ Nothing but dust and cobwebe." " Then come sway, for pity’e sake ! My teeth em chattering, and the terrible musty rodouiiemeking me i_ll._â€_ “ The mining will I†“ I verily believe it. Your uncle Daniel did not come n p here for nothing. I Wander you never thought of connecting the two things in your mindâ€"hie midnight ramble and she diappearunce of the mill. I always suspected your uncle or making Emmy with that will himself.†I am too I ewildered even to connect them now. Hugh looks eager and excited, ex~ mining the flatly-folded paper, tram which he has wiped name of the dust and cobwmbs with his handkerchief. while I stare at him, holding the candle in one hand and with my tires: mill instinctively clutched up in the other. “ What will you do with it ?" “ T‘ke it down-stairs, I suppose ; or,†he adds, looking at me. “ shall we put in back where we found it 2’" “ Well, I think it would be the beat p.lan But it shall be exactly as you please. †“This is ï¬x; haunted ohe,“ iiy, stand- ing in the middle of the second room, while guy oogsin {Inlorfl} the 1996 u it}; u be cm :2 putting hi; head and his candle £55612}? 0 opening. “ I never went further than There ere three lesser mete, one within the other, ell with high a oping roofs of lath end plaster, pientifnlly ieetooned with en- dent cobweb; The outer one be: e dor- Iner window, the next no window at nil, the third end lent neither door nor window, only e eqnere aperture ebout e yard from the ï¬t or, throu h which one might ecrunbie hto_t_h_e yen} go ie-end of the roof. end empty boxee nnd other lumber, the other upon a range of smaller rooms opening one 01:“ of the mixer. the inne:l of hhelf: be- ' t eone .u url eu so to e unt- le-dg I do notpkodow byy will?“ whom. iiugh merely given a glance into the up larger gel-rot, w ith its pile. of dusty rubbish then lends the way into the one opposite; end I follow him, shivering more with cold in actual fear. The attlce of Greyecre are on cold in winter, when there in snow on ï¬e roof, on they are eufl'ocetingly hot in common end, u there ere no ï¬replaces: they heve never been occupied as bed room, itchy of the cements. . I lov tht “ Where. ’" “ In the guble Attic. " I! Ru} -“8" MI â€A ‘u-nn Hugh «nice 3 candle, leading the way ; I follow. holding up my velvet gown from who! within)? dusty bond}. Azl‘hg gal-rot, .A-l-_ - , 0n the 1056; “(tutâ€"he top of th; gorrot flight there are two low doors, one opening into | apmionn attic full of broken furniture mire ure et the up'per end of e kind of pal-ego leading from the corridor, and nthe: removed from the inhabited part of the house. My room in at the lower end of we oouridor, not fer from the head «I the “you? legdjug down into :herherll. TWO CHRISTMASES; THE MYSTERY BE THE HAUNTED GARRET. CHAPTER III. OR, Aunt \Vills has always been kind to me, though she never loved me. I think she was jealous of my being mistress'oi Grayacre -â€"I was only a girl of ï¬fteen when she ï¬rst came from Canada, but uncle Daniel had never dreamed of deposing me for her. Laurie had been ordered to Europe for his health, and they had lived in the South of France for two years before they came to Greyacreâ€"I believe my uncle’s inviting them was a plot to introduce Laurie and me to each other, connived at if not ï¬rst in- sti ated by aunt Wills herself. remember lour ï¬rsit ingroduction, iuh} very oak or, an w at a pretty had thoughï¬im, in his fur-lined coat a’nd white silk mother, with his fair complexion and blue eyes and ï¬ne soft golden hair, and how uncle Daniel and aunt \Vills both lau bed at us for being so ,ehyâ€"for, though we ooked at each other, we never spoke. I believe we fell in love with each other at ï¬rst sightâ€"I never remember any joy or pleasure afterwards in which Laurie had not a part. ‘Ve rode together, skated together, walked together ; what he liked I liked, what he disliked I hated ; I sat up late at nioht to keep pace with him in his studies ; he taught me German, and I helped him with his Latin and Greek. And he seemed to grow Well and strong in the sweet clear air fragrant with the breath of the pastures and pine woods, and to outgrow the delicacy of lungs which had made it impossible tor him to live in Canada, and at one time threatened the consumption of which his father died. There is no change in my cousin’s look or manner, no anxiety, no indication in his dark face that he hopes or fears anything trom our discovery last night. He never mentions it, and if it were not for an odd twinge of apprehension now and then, I should be inclined to think our adventure in the garret was nothing but a feverish dream. That I could in any way lose or be deprived of Grayacre is utterly impossible. My uncle could do what he liked with it, and always told me, and my mother before me,that he would leave it to me.He was not a man to be moved from his purpose even by the most undue influenceâ€"supposing such influence to have been brought to bear upon him. But there was nobody in the house at the time of his making the will who could have influenced him in any way, ex- cept aunt “’ills, and she was not very likely to wish Greyacre left away from her son’s . wife. Hugh was her favorite certainly, but then I am perfectly certain no power on earth could have induced uncle Daniel to leave Greyacre to Hugh, whatever he might have been coerced into leaving to Laurie as my husband. Nor was aunt \Vills capable of counselling such an act of injustice, little‘ as she ever cared for me. I think myself that the only difference in the new will will prove to be a legacy to my auntâ€"she had been very kind and attentive to my uncle during his last illness, and, though he was not fond of her, he respected her, and was very willing to have her remain at Greyacre as long as she pleased. He must have had a good deal of conï¬dence in her when his last request to her was that she would take care of his “ poor little girl." I do not think I ever reelly enjoyed exit- teuce tlll Laurie come ; it wee for my nke thet Uncle Denieltï¬remd them to etey on mouth otter man and your otter you. Aunt Willa went beck to Condo two or three timee to see her eldeet eon, who could not leeve hie form, but Lsurle Itnyed with ueâ€"he liked Gnyecre better then Ln Hon e Bic, he sold, end his cousin Joeu better tï¬n Leslie Creed. Leelle come beck with euut Willa onoe, md remeined for e you: but she was so much younger than Laurie end I, and no fond of pleylng in the house, "1",! we did not. mlae her very much when ehe went back agnin. Aunt Willa, however. woe u pmeionntely fond of her no it the had been her own child, though Idon't think Leslie cared for herâ€"die was 3 eelf posses- eed, old‘fuhioncd chill, very pretty, but a cold no ice. ' “ What has brought you down-stairs at this unearthly hour, Mr. Tressilian 1'" “ I am going to church.’ “ Nowâ€"with me 3†“ If you will allow me.†I am glad he is coming. Dorothy has laid breakfast for us at the end of the table nearest the ï¬re ; but, though I make a pre~ tence of eating, I can scarcely swallow the strong tea I have pouyed out for_niyeelf. [ Dorothy calls me early on Christmas morning. before the stars have be u tofade {in the sky. I have not slept at a l, and am lad when she comes into my room with her ï¬ning candle, a grotesque little ï¬gure in her short pettiooat with a shawl over her head. But a feverish excitement prevents my looking or even feeling tired when I come down to the oak parlor with my wra over my arm. I always go to the ear y service in the church on Christmas morning. " I hope you are satisï¬ed with the result, cousin 1†I turn from the tall narrow glass between the windows. I suppose Hugh thinks it was pure vanity which prompted me to stand before It, but I never was vain of my- self. Vain of Grayacre I am, vain of Laurie I was, but never vain of my personal ap- Pemm- - I should not have denied him one calm, oousinly kiss. though I do not in general approve of such familiarity: but perhaps. though he asked for in, Hugh Tresailian thinksa kiss so iven would scarcely be worth the having, or he does not take it. “ Good-nigh: again, auut Wills." My aunt gives me her cheek to kinâ€"I love aunt Wills, for Laurie's sake, more than the has ever loved meâ€"and then I go up-ataira to bed. “ I must be the ï¬rst to wish you a merry Chliatmu, cousiniqogn.†Hugh draws bsok the heavy curtains and opens v.0 sash with its little lozenge mes, sud he and I lean out together, listening to the faint hurrying olnsh-nnd-oldn of the balls as it comes sweet and clear on t e frosty My eyes. are full of tears, but I smile at him in my contradictory way. I‘ “ain't an“ Ohinlr unn unfnkb "Inn m- n “Don't. you think yt'm uiight give me a kigs._oou_a!n, on_ Christina}: {nqning Y†I drop the koyl into my pocket, I raise my head with a sudden exclamation. "The joy-bells! Open the window, nun“ N Hugh. “ It is n we improbehle story," my cousin aye, we] ing to the other window, when he etnnde n minute or two look out et the flower beds, like groves in the co snow. Then he turn! about tuddenly on walks out of the rorm, And I do not see him again until I am sent for an hour later. And ï¬nd him in the oak parlor with my nut and the tin attorneys. Aunt Wills in in her ens -ohuir. with n etrunge flueh on her face. ugh standing on the rug : the two attorney. on sittin a: the tableâ€"Mr. Winder in u plump on u room travelling 'in Switzerland ? Be wee fast in e crevesse, end she weited end weit- ed for yeers, ho ing the ice would melt snd restore him to er, till the pretty youn bride chenged into en old, old women. An etleet the gleoier did cerry him down, end she sew him egeinâ€"the young boy'hnebend -â€"jnetes she bed seen hin lest, with his blue eyes end golden heir. How etrenge it must heve seemed to her to think thet led could be her hnebendâ€"ehe e withered old women. with e ieoe fin-rowed by grief end teen 1" “’e breakfast again when we get back ; but Hugh does more justice to the coffee and hot cakes than I do, and to Dorothy’s round of spiced beef. I have exchanged my seal- ekin-eoat for a limp {osmotic-looking gown of bronze silkâ€"I am fond of brownâ€"and wear some of Bob‘s white ohryeanthemume. Hugh looks at me a good dealâ€"I am sure he thinks I am very tiredâ€"but he does not say much, except that I am foolish to fret for Nannie Dobeon. " The world is 3 ve sorrowful place 1’ I have made old Mic eel sweep the snow from the window-sill that I may feed In rohine. and I am watching them now. wi a frown .on my hoe, “ And yet' you have more to make you happy than most people.†my cousin an- swers from the rug. “ Do you think so 2†“ You are not three-and-twenty yet, J on, and you sneak as if you_ were thrgeaocre." “ Somefimes I wiEh I were. Do you re- member thaguatory: offlthAe bride _a_nd"bride- “ I dare my she will write to-day.†" I don't suppose there will be much dif~ ference between the two wills 2" " I have no idea. My mother never mentioned the subject to me until last night." " I suppose aunt will write that note to Winder . Curtis 2†I say, as we walk up the road. The two old attorneys are always bracketed together in this way at Gray- acre “ You are coming over this evening, Joan 3" Ann says, turning to me. “ Mr. 'l‘resailian says he will come if vou do. I’ve iua: been telling him what a shame it was he did not come to help us decorate the church." “ I gave him your massage, Anne." “ All ï¬ght. We'll be looking out for you. She nods to me, but she looks at Hugh, who, however is looking at my chrysanshegn- nms. It shacks m8 3 littlé to hear of it, though I could scarcely have expected anything else. There are not more than half a. dozen peo- ple in the little old-fashioned church, with its dim candles and Christmas bravery of holly and ivy. ' “'Have you heard anything of Nanny Dobson 2†I ask Anne Carmichael, as we come out of church. Dr. N eabitt happens to be standing beside her, gpd he apawcra the guegpion. " She is dead, Miss Ludlowâ€"died this mqrnipg gt a qusnfex: past_four.â€_ _ The sound of the church'bell is coming clear and sharp across the snowy ï¬elds when we go out a few minutes later, the morning air is raw and cold. A dense frosty fog blots out the distance, a dull vellow glow sud‘using it in the east ; as for as we can see stretch the snowy ï¬elds and sombre ï¬r woods, skirted by the dark frozen lake with its border of still" reeds and rushes, with the black water showing through the ice here and there, where it was broken by my Ay- lesbury ducks. I look at' him now in the flickering light of Dorothy’s solitary candle and feel that when the time comes I shall not be able to twithontasense of loss. He has been ike a brother to meâ€"he could not be kind- er if I really had been his brother's wife. And then he is familiar' with all our house- hold sayings and doings, understands all our family afl'airs, sits down to his meals in common with us, takes an interestâ€"for our sakeâ€"in stable and paddock, storehouse and burn, walks about the house, comes in and goes out, in a kind of protecting pre- sence, which, inde ndent as 1 am and prone to think myse f sufï¬cient for myself, hassomethin pleasant about itâ€"so much so that I am icginning to be quite fond of tobacco-smoke ! gothnt. wHugh hnd been able to give himself : holiday an mme to England, though, to please aunt Will: I had invited him over and over again. 'Aunt \Villea came back with me to Gray- ncre. I loved her for Laurie's sakeâ€"fer Laurie‘s sake I love her still. The climate 0! Canada, though the most bracing and healthy in the worle, did not suit her dis- ition exactly; and, though she would ave gone back to her son Hugh if she could she was so strangely attached to Grayaore, partly for its own sake, partly because Laurie loved it, that she was not altogether unwilling!» (equip: It was only six weeks A month after uncle Daniel's death he did break a blood-vessel, but he rallied a ain for the last time, and aunt Wills took h mto Bournemouth. She would not take me, though Laurie pleaded hard to have me -â€"-1 think she was jealous of his love for me, and wanted to have her boy to herself. But I would not remain at Grayacre. 1 went to a London hospital as a robationer nurse, and during the year Laur e lingered at Bournemouth went down to see him con- stantlyâ€"{or the last six weeks remained at. Bournemouth, Laurie liked to have me, though I knew aunt Wills had rather I had kept away. But Laurie liked to have me, and he was mine ; it. was my hand he held when he died, in was my li a he kissed lest. my namenwas the lasc_word espoke. When I was seventeen cud Lsurie nine- teen. we were engaged to etch other with the full consent of our eldereâ€"wo hsd pri vetely promised to marry each other long before that. Very soon eiterwsrds uncle Dsniel fell ill of the melody of which he died. He Wu s ver old men, sud though he lingered for neery a year. we had no hope of his recovery. At this t me Lsurie seemed to me quite strong and well; but sunt Wills told me afterwards that even than old Doctor Murray had told her that it was only a question of timeâ€"he might live for 3 year or two, or he might break a blood- vessel and die in a few hours. The men-get of the New York telephone compnny sum thet on 3 recent. day they received en Henge of 7} cell. from etch of their elmost seven thoueend snbecribere. One lubecriher mede 68 cells Ind mother received 131 calls. honor mny cone to be wtï¬ed, just no duel- llng. to “yd-{y the honor lndividneh. hu caused to be y,rnotioed to a inrge egreeln Enï¬lnnd nn Amerion. Arbltntion. I} it (I be udoRted. would be nn nnnpeahble bleedn to n the world. end the exomple of Eng \nd nnd the United Stetee, eettling their dlfl'erenoee in thin way, mey result in greet good to 311 the world. Meny more exem lee mi ht be teken from history to show ow use ess even Ion end bloody were ere, to bring ebout ï¬ settlementa between netions. The hisoo of peeceinl settlements, on the other hen , by diplomecy or by reference to e court 0! erbittetion, shows that disputes which ere brought to en end in this wey usneliy en- tirely diseppeer. Une strong argument, however, in favor of arbitration la, that ware very rarely settle the disputes which have revoked them. Thousands of men are slang terod ; millions of mono are squandered; territori-a are deaola ; industries are mined; and yet at the end of it all, the seeds of future quarrels and future ware remain. Two hundred (yearn ago, a French king eeized and adde a German province to his realm. The Germans were not, however, made content to lose it by defeat ; and in 1870, they rose up end took the province back by force. W th this again, the French are not satisï¬ed; and are at this day watching their opportunity to reconquer the province. Many more exam lea mi ht be token from history to show ow use can even long - It Is to a. large degree owing to this fee]- ing. that all Europe is to-dey burdened with enormous military armaments, and that treasuriee end the pocket: of the people are being dreined to support them. One of the great obstacles in the way of the adoption of arbitration for the settle- ment of international quarrels is, that no nation is willing to submit aqneetion in which its "honor" is concerned to such a court. It is still the prevailing doctrine that if a nation has been “ insulted†by another, the shedding of blood can alone preserve its honor. That subject had long threatened to bring about a war between the two countries ; but when the arbitration was agreed to, and the Court at Geneva adjudged that Eng- land should pay the United States ï¬fteen and one-half millions of dollars, for the damage done by the Alabama and other vee- eels, the decision was promptly acquiesced in, and the money was paid over Without a murmur. The most striking example ever set in this direction was that of the United States and England, when they agreed that the claims for the depredations of the privatee: Ala~ bama and other confederate cruisers ehould be submitted to a court of arbitration, with authority, not merely to detirmine how much was due to the United States by Great Britain, but to decide if an thing was due. Thus it won commiesione to sit in judgment upon the conduct of a proud and independent goyernment._ It is ï¬tting that such asubject 'ahoulii be taken up by the two great Anglo-Saxon powers, and that an effort should be made by enlightened nations to devise a peaceful method of settling the disputes which are constantly arising between formidable pow- ers. The delegation waited upon the President at Washington, and presented to him a memorial in favor of “arbitration in politi- cal diï¬'erences, when diplomatic agency has failed to settle such diflerenoes." Sir Lyon Playfair remarked that the times are favor- able to such a course, since “ the whole world is startled at the new aspect of war, which the progress of science is making a huge engine for the hatchery of men, and the wanton waste of property.†he added the startling fact that during the past ten years the cost of maintaining European armies has increased at least tWenty-ï¬ve per cent. The President responded in a sympathetic manner, and expressed the hope that arbi: trarion might one day be generally adopted. A delegstion of prominent Englishmen, represenung two hundred and thirty-ï¬ve members of the House of Commons, has re- cently vislued the United Bates on an errand of peace. Among the delegates were several members of Psrusment, and at their head wee Slr Lyon Playtsir. who has several times so?“ in the English Ministry. "‘ Encily uo-if he data an}. wmt marry you.†(To an ooxnsuzn.) " ltâ€"means that your uncle was determin- ed you should not die an old maid. my dear ! ’ he laughs a little uneasily, litigating on his chair. “ But. it ignores Laurie altogether !' “ Oh, ucâ€"ic does not do that i†“ 1 am not forced to marry any one [by this new arrangementâ€"uncle Daniel would never hnve been so cruel as to force ms to marry any one I did not like i†" Certainly not.†“ And nebod ls forced to unrry me 3 ' “ No,†Mr. inder allowu again, with a glance at Hugh. “ Things remain just as they are ifâ€"if my causindoes not_want to marry me 1’" “buy 135 that wgn in dofqnog of nation] At ï¬rst I can scarcely comprehend it; the words seem to mix themwlveu u ,to oonvay no distinct impression to my rain. Mr. Curtis’ 8 voice humv on and on: [lug h lundu motioplou, punt Willa looks into the ï¬re. " What does is mean I" I Mk at Int, turning to Mr. Winder, who_ sits next to me. My uncle Daniel leaves (lreywre and everything belou ing to him to me. For this the new will in exactly like the old. But there in a condition. I am to marry one of Willa Treeeilien'e eons. Failing his second son Laurence, I am to merry Hugh â€"â€"if he nuke me. if he decline: to eek me, Grnymre is mine as long an I live. and will belongtao my heirs after me. or, should i die without children, will revert to Hugh or his deoendnute. But, if he eeke me, and I re- iuee, Gruyucre ie no longer mine, but hie. The will luoon road ; und. if lt Iur rin- mo, lt mom: to surprise my cousin {ugh 'l‘reuiliau still more. and not only tolur- priae him, but. to nuke hi. quburnt lace tuft} pale. _ my a Mr. Curti- h oadsvoroun and thin. They we both lrleudn of the funny. and I may they l 00!: at me rather oddly u I come law the room nnd take my place mm the tire. oppoollo to aunt Wills. Arbitration. tery conï¬nement, who in without ooumel. without hnowled of the low, without the wt of e eing e friend in this eupren. e of her life, brute down At lent and. the etnin of deedly leer, end tell. the III- {whiter ell ehe hum She in et once to. eued,hnt only to suffer egonlee of IO!!- reproech end remom u ehe eeee her rein. tivee end demntfriendurreeted, lmprieoned end exlled to Siberie, upon inform-Mon uni clewe which ehe herself hoe furnished. It frequently be pone, however, thet 3 girl remains etee feet end refueee to emu neetione even efter monthe of lolltery oeu- game“ The eutharltlee then resort to other end even more diecredlteble methoh. It in no: u nutter for lnrprho if A Km“ girl who bu thus been tom {tom he: one, yho in (1ng And dighoq’tpnoti by Col! The poor girl i! well ewere that the re- ference to Siberian exile in not en empty threes. Belonging-e Ihe does to en “un- trustworthy" femily, she has often hard dlecneeed the cuoof Merle Prieodlkl, who was exiled before she wee sixteen you! of e beceuee ehe would not betray her older eter, end the case of the lvltohevltoh children, one seventeen end the other four- teen yeen of ego, who were erreetod in Kiev end neat to Slberle in 1879 for no pertlouler reeeon except thet thelr two older broth†were revolutionllu end hed been Ihot deed while reel-ting erreet. At last, two weeks perhaps after her arc ‘ rest, when her spirit is supposed to be enfli- oently broken by solitary conï¬nement and grief, she is summoned to the depros, a pre- liminary examination, without witnesses or counsel, conducted by General Strelnikoii’ in person. He begins by saying to her that is “ charged with very serious crimes under such and such section of the Penal Code, and that she stands in danger of exileto Sibena for a long term of years. In View however, of her youth and inexperience, and of the probability that she had been misled by criminal associates, he feels authorised to say to her that if she willshow repen- l’anee, and a sincere desire to reform, by making a 'cristoeerdechni' â€" ‘cleanv hearted’ confessionâ€"and will answer truth- fully all questions put to her, she will be immediately released. If, on the contrary she manifests an obdurate disposition thus proves herself tobe unworthy of ale.- ency, it willbeoome his duty, as proseontv in ofï¬cer of the CroWn, to treat her with algthe rigor of the law." and outrage ; the occasional clang of a heavy door; the moaning and hysterical weeping of other recently arrested prison- ers in cells on the same corridor, and the sudden and noiseless appearance now and then at an unknown human face at the little square port-hole in the cell door through which the prisoners are watchedâ€"all com- bine to make the ï¬rst night of a young girl in prison an experience never to be forgotten while she lives. This experience, however, is only the beginning 0! the trial which her courage and self-control are destined to un- dergo. One day passesâ€"two daysâ€"three daysâ€"ten daysâ€"Without bringing any news from the outside world, or any iniormation concerning the nature of the charges made against her. Twice every twenty-tour hour! food is handed to her through the square port-hole by the taciturn guard, but naming else breaks the monotony and the solitude of her life. She has no books, no writing materials, no means whatever of diverting her thought or relieving the mental strain which soon becomes almost unendurable. Tortured by apprehensions and by unocr~ tainty as to her own fate and the fate of those dear to her, she can only pace her cell from corner to corner until she is exhausted, and then throw herself on the narrow prim- bed and in sleep to lose consciouscess of her misery. Tsar with almost diotetorial po m- in 'order that he might ï¬xtii te sedition the pro- vruoes ol southern unis, be arrested end threw into prison in tinsingle city at Ode-a no less than llSpei'so in three days. He then Went to Kiev and arreswd eighty-nine persons almost simultaneously, anti ordered the imprisonment oi hundreds of others in Kharkcll', Nikolaiei, l’ultavs, Kurslt, and other south Russian cities. Most of these arrests Were made entirely without what is knowu as “ probable cause," and for the sole purpose 0! obtaining clews to plots which the police believe to exist, but which they had not been able to discover. Many of the persons arrested were more childrenâ€"- immature school-boys and girls from ï¬fteen to seventeen years of ageâ€"who could not possibly be regorded as dangerous oomph- wra, but who might, it was thought, be terriï¬ed low a oonlession of .tll they know with reg-ird to the mchments, conversa- tions, and occupations of their older rein- tivee and friends. General Strelnihofl‘l plan was to arrest simultaneously a large number of persons belonging to the “In- trustworthy" class; throw them into prison; ‘ keep them tor ten days or two weeks in the strictest solitary eonnncment, and then sub~ jeot them to a terrifying inquisitorial ex- unination, with the hope of exwrting screps of information, here a little and were 0. little, which might be pieced tagether, like the parts at s dissected map, s: u to reveal the outuntsoi a revolutionary plot. 1!, fore:- unple a young girl belonged to an “un'or. thy 'Lmily, and a“ suspicious "letter toner but been Intercepled by the authorities 3 or it she had been seen coming out of a “m- picious †house at a lsto hour in the em- ing, she was arrested in one of these police raids, generally at night ; conveyed in a close csrrisge w the Odessa prison; put into a small solitary-conï¬nement cell and lett to her own sgomzing thoughts. N 0 ex- planation was given her of this summary proceeding, and if she appealed to the sen- tinel on duty in the corridor, the only ly she obtained was “ Prikazano M an " â€"“Tallring is forbidden." The eti'ect pro- duced upon a young, inexperienced, impres- sible girl, by the overwnelming shock of such a transition from the repose, quiet, Ind security at her own bedroom, in her own home, to a narrow, gloomy cell in a common criminal prison at night, can readily be im~ agined. _Even if she were a girl of courage and ï¬rmness of character, her self-control might give way under the strain of such on ordeal. The sounds which break the sill- ness of a Russian criminal prison at night â€"the stealthy trend of the guard ; die faintly heard cries and struggles of a drunk- en and disorderly " casual" who is strapped to his bed in another part of ï¬le prison, cries which suggest to an inexpu'i- enced girl some terrible scene of violence Government Terrorism l Russia. The following ha from Goo: e Kennw’l M- mum. at " l’. hon Lilo of we uulnu Rove. Edwin-"in the â€wombat Century; Whoa General Strenhkofl wu Etna-tea by {in 'l‘.._._ mun. ,.I_‘....A JLLA