side, and you will almost certainly reap a good harvest of moths. Attracted by the light, they fly against the glass plates marked 1 and 2, and flutter along them until they come to plate 3. They flutter along this in the same way, and so are safely dodged in the trap.

Once in, they never get out again; and even if they do reach plates 3 and 1, they only flutter along them until lodged in the angle. The whole trap is, in fact, constructed after the fashion of the "madrague," or chambered net, in which the tunny is taken. The "keddah," or chambered pound, in which Indian hunters capture the elephant, is made on the same principle. There should be doors at either side for the

though undecided about their movements; and, until they have fairly reached plate 3, they cannot be considered as secure. My friend, whose trap I have mentioned, does not employ the laurel-drawer, and his success proves that it is not needed.

There is really no necessity for killing the moths directly they enter the trap. They will not hurt themselves in the least. They cannot scorch themselves at the lamp, because they are stopped by the glass marked D, and even if they do flutter up and down the glass for a time, their wings will take no hurt. Unlike Mrs. Bond's recalcitrant ducks, they have come to be killed, and you may kill them when you like. Killing, setting, and preserving insects will be described in another article of this series.

lofty crags, and cropping the velvety moss which grew on the ledges. On one occasion I saw a group of seven standing on the top of a mass of rock, rising up like a gigantic tower to the height of 700 or 800 feet; three of its sides being nearly perpendicular, and the fourth was formed by a narrow ridge of rocks running up from the top of a great precipice at an angle of sixty degrees. In some parts this line was broken by great perpendicular steps, that ap peared to render it impossible to ascend. Still, along that rugged ridge they had climbed to the summit.

A great chasm, at least 1,000 feet deep and 600 yards in width, separated us from them, much to the regret of our little party; and no place could be found by which to descend into

introduction of the hand, when the moths are to be boxed; and it will be as well to have another in the lid.

Dealers make their moth-traps of japanned tin, and fit them with a "laurel drawer.'

This

A Leap for Life.-p. 246.

THE MARAL'S LEAP.

BY THE LATE T. W. ATKINSON, F. R. G.S.,

F.G.S.

THE maral, or large stag, is found in all the

the gorge, and scale the opposite precipices. Could we have succeeded in this, some of the maral must have fallen to our rifles. It was a tantalising sight to hungry men, one that often prompts the hunter to feats of daring; but in this fustance we could only look with admiranearer acquaintance another time.

laurel leaves, the vapour of which rises through little holes in the floor. Tin, however, is not one whit better than wood, and I have no belief in the laurel drawer.

If you do wish for it, there is no difficulty in making it, and in that case there should be a false bottom of perforated zinc or wire gauze, below which comes the drawer. But the vapour soon loses its potency, and is continually escaping between the front glasses.

Moreover, I am tolerably sure that many moths would be deterred from entering the trap by the scent of the laurel leaves. You may see them fluttering about the mouth of the trap, as

Mus-tau. He affords noble sport for the hunters, and his horns are highly valued by the Chinese. But it demands a fearless hunter to follow him into his haunts among the precipices, glaciers, and snowy peaks of this region. In winter and spring he is found in the valleys, but as the weather becomes warmer he ascends, to escape the flies and other insects.

Marals are seldom found in herds, though groups of ten or twelve are sometimes seen standing on the brink of a precipice 1,500 or 2,000 feet in height, quite inaccessible to man. At other times I have beheld them climbing the

I have followed my game, commencing the chase without a breakfast, having had no dinner or supper the preceding day. After stalking a stag for five or six hours, his branching horns are seen above the copse in which he is lying, some 400 or 500 yards distant; another. halfhour of cautious creeping places me within range, whence the shining black eye can be marked as the target. Stretched at full length on the ground, yet scarcely daring to raise my head to obtain a sight along the tube, the bead of the rifle covers the speck of black, giving a

certainty of an approaching banquet. At last the finger touches the trigger, but instead of the whistling bullet performing its function, the hammer falls on a bad cap. This slight crack, however, rouses the mafal, and in an instant he bounds away, carrying my dinner with him. The Cossacks and Kalmucks display a finer sense of honour in their hunting than many highly civilised Europeans.

Two Cossacks were qut hunting the maral for two objects, food and antlers. They had followed the game far up into the Ala-tau, and had been successful, sleeping at night near their spoil. The next morning they started again in pursuit, when, after some hours, they found a magnificent animal, whose horns they saw were worth 120 roubles (£17), a prize well worth securing. They hunted him from one valley to another, till at last he retreated to a high craggy region.

His pursuers were not the men to be deterred by obstacles. They scaled the rugged height, still following on his track; whichever way he turned some slight mark betrayed his path. Late in the afternoon they caught sight of his branching horns in a deep rent in the mountain, whose sides were nearly perpendicular, while the opposite end terminated on the brink of a great precipice-thus preventing all chance of

escape.

When they entered the gorge he rose from his lair, about 300 yards in advance, and started forward among fallen rocks. They followed rapidly, and gained upon him fast. Having reached within about one hundred paces of the end of the ravine, he stood hesitating, and looked back-seeming inclined to double and

make a rush to pass them. From this circum

stance the Cossacks knew that some other animals were in the pass. They did not fire, but gradually approached. The stag went slowly on, evidently in fear. Having passed some large blocks, two huge bears sprang out into the ravine close behind him.

The stag suddenly bounded into the air to a pinnacle of rock, standing detached from the precipice, and leaped across a chasm thirty-three feet wide. One of the bears springing after him rushed over the cliff, falling more than 400 feet -and thus ended his career. The other stood on the brink of the chasm growling, and in a fearful rage at his disappointment. The hunters advanced, and when they came within twenty paces he stood up and gave a savage growl of defiance But this was his last-a leaden messenger sent him rolling after his companion.

The mara stood gazing at the hunters without showing any sign of fear, while they admired his beautiful form and noble horns. To the honour of the Cossacks be it told, he was left in peace, great as was the temptation to these illpaid men. Within a few paces were the coveted horns, equal in value to the annual pay of five of their body. The fellows were, however, as good as they were brave.

After noting some peculiar marks on the animal's body, by which to recognise him again, they departed. Retracing their steps was a most difficult and dangerous task, which they had not felt during the excitement of the chase. The following day they sought the bears at the bottom of the precipice, when, to their great delight, they discovered that the maral had releaped the chasm on to a ledge below the brink, and had escaped. When the Cossacks joined their companions at the piquet the whole of the circumstances were related. A correct description of the maral was given; and greatly to the credit of these men he long remained king of his native wilds.

OUR NOTE BOOK.

All Right, Bill.

I REMEMBER an anecdote which struck me wonderfully that was told me by a missionary from Fiji. It shows what an impression the Bible produces on the minds of men, even those who have not fully realised in their own experience its mighty power. This missionary told me

that there were some seamen wrecked at a con

siderable distance from land; they got into a boat and altogether lost their reckoning, until at last they gained the land. One of them who had been there before recognised it as one of the Fiji Islands. It was before the Wesleyans had effected such a mighty change in these islands. They were under very considerable apprehensions, as you may suppose, and every moment they expected to be eaten up. They crept into a cottage and lay in a corner there for a considerable time. At length Jack crept out 10 see if they could get anything to eat, when all of a sudden he called out, Bill, there is no fear! It is all right! Here is a Bible. There is no harm; it's all right!" What a strong proof of the effect produced on the minds of people who feel that where the doctrine of the Bible is received, there is peace and order and safety.Lord Shaftesbury.

Population of Great Cities.

THE population of the great cities of the world is a matter of perennial interest. According to the latest census, where these are attainable, they range as follows: London, of course, heads the list with its 3,533,484; Paris comes next with 1,851,792, by the census of 1872; then Peking, with 1,500,000, and Canton, with 1,300,000; next comes New York, with 1,069,362, and closes the list of those having more than 1,000,000 inhabitants. Of those

having less than 1,000,000 and more than 500,000, Berlin comes first with 994,343; then Philadelphia, with 850,856; next Tokio, Japan, the Yeddo of the old geographies, with 800,000; Vienna, 690,548; St. Petersburg, 669,741; Bombay, 644,405; Kioto, Japan, 560,000; Glasgow, 555,933; Ozaka, Japan, 530,000; Brooklyn, 527,830; Liverpool, 527,083. Louis claims 500,000, and if allowed her own

St.

Habit and Little Things. little things, but some of the world's greatest WE are too much in the habit of despising things. In the cathedral at Pisa Galileo disdiscoveries were the result of studying little covered that a pendulum would mark the time: Sir William Brown, by watching a spider, formed the idea of the first suspension bridge; Franklin, by the aid of a silk kite, invented the lightning conductor; West's first brush was furnished by a cat's tail; and so with the invention of the steam-engine and Faraday's experiments with an old bottle. Little things are likeflakes of snow-harmless enough in single flakes-but what was more powerful than an avalanche, carrying away villages in its course of devastation?-J. B. Gough.

The learned man felt helpless, but, having written an account of the circumstance, laid it

The king said to him, "Go and seat yourself near the shop of that druggist for three days, during which time say nothing whatever to him. On the fourth day I will pass by that place, and will salute you respectfully, and do you make When I have passed, ask the druggist for your no sign nor speak in answer to my salutation. money, and come and report his answer to me.

estimate, heads the list of those ranging down-before the king (shah). ward, from 500,000 to 250,000. Then follow Naples, with 457,407; Chicago, with 440,000; Calcutta, 429,535; Nanking, 400,000; Madras, 397,552; Hamburg, 393,588; Birmingham, 377,346; Manchester, 359,213; Baltimore, 355,00; Boston, 354,765; Shanghae, 320,000; Dublin, 314,666; Buda Pesth, 314,401; Amsterdam, 302,266; San Francisco, 300,000; Leeds, 298,189; Rome, 282,214; Sheffield, 282,130; Cincinnati, 280,000; Breslau, 259,345; Melbourne, 250,678; Havana, 250,000.

Home.

WHERE is the happiest home on earth?
'Tis not 'mid scenes of noisy mirth;
But where God's favour, sought aright,
Fills every breast with joy and light.
The richest home? It is not found
Where wealth and splendour most abound!
But wheresoe'er, in hall or cot,
Men live contented with their lot.

The fairest home? It is not placed
In scenes with outward beauty graced ;
But where kind words and smiles impart
A constant sunshine to the heart.
On such a home of peace and love
God showers His blessing from above;
And angels, watching o'er it, cry,
"Lo! this is like our home high!"
-The Sunday at Home.

The learned man acted according to the directions of the king until the fourth day, when his majesty with a brilliant and numerous retinue, came that way.

The king, on seeing the wise man, saluted him with great respect, and entered into conversation privately with him, saying aloud as he departed, "Come and tell me of your affairs."

The druggist, seeing all this, began to feel alarmed, and when the king had gone, said, "Oh, friend, at the time you deposited this. money with me, where was I, and who was with me? Tell me ; perhaps I have forgotten it."

The learned man again repeated his story, when the druggist exclaimed, "Certainly, certainly; you speak the truth; it had escaped my memory." Accordingly, he immediately returned the money.

II.

Two men entrusted the whole of their money to an old woman, telling her that when both returned together they would claim its restoration.

After some time one of the men came to the old woman and said, "My partner is dead; deliver up to me the money which we placed in your care."

The old woman, being over-persuaded, gave him the money.

Some time clapsed, when the other man presented himself, and demanded his property.

"Alas!" said the old woman; your partner has been here; he represented you as having died, and, in spite of all the opposition I could offer, has taken the whole of the money."

The man carried the old woman before the

Faraday's Lost Cup. THERE is a story told of a workman of Faraday. One day he knocked into a jar of acid a little silver cup. It disappeared, was eaten up by the acid, and could not be found. One said he could find it; another said it was held in solution, and there was no possibility of finding it. The great chemist came in, and put some chemical into the jar, and in a moment every par-judge, and demanded justice. The judge, after ticle of the silver was precipitated to the bottom. He lifted it out a shapeless mass, sent it to the silversmith, and the cup was restored. If Faraday could precipitate that silver and recover his cup, how easy it ought to be for us to believe that God can restore our sleeping dust.

some reflection, decided that the woman was blameless in the matter. "Your original bargain was," said he, "that when both partners returned together the property should be restored. Go, therefore, and find your partner, and ther claim your money."

III.

A certain man deposited a sealed bag containing two thousand pieces of silver with a cadi or judge, and himself proceeded upon a journey. Upon his return he received the bag, sealed as before, from the judge, but on opening it discovered it to be filled with copper coin. He demanded an explanation from the judge, who replied, "Begone, you lie! In the first place, you never showed me the contents of the bag, and in the second, I have returned it to you

sealed, as I received it."

The servants of the judge then drove away the complainant, who, however, went and stated the circumstances of the case to the king. The king, having taken some time for consideration, said, "Go, leave the bag for the present with me; I will take measures to procure you justice." On the following day the king tore a small hole in a new cushion which was upon the throne, and went out hunting.

The ferash (or carpet-spreader) whose turn it was to be upon duty that day, while arranging the royal pillows, discovered the hole, and was seized with fright, so that he trembled from head to foot. He showed the tear to another ferash, saying, "When the king discovers this he will certainly put me to death!" "Have you shown this to any one else?"

asked his comrade.

46

No," was the reply.

"Then make your mind easy," said the second ferash, for I know of a man in this city who will darn it in such a manner that it will be impossible to detect it.

The cushion was accordingly taken to the shop of the professional darner, who returned it upon the following day, receiving double the amount he asked, as a reward for the excellence of his workmanship. When the king returned he examined the cushion, and demanded to know who had repaired it.

The ferash, being in a great fright, pretended ignorance, but the king reassured him, acknowledging having torn the cushion himself, and insisting upon learning who had darned it. All was confessed, and the darner was sent for.

On his appearance, the king asked him whether he had ever repaired a bag in the same manner as he had the cushion.

On his replying in the affirmative, the king desired to know whether he would be able to recognise the bag if it were shown to him.

"Certainly," said the man.

The bag was then produced, and identified by the darner, who stated that it had been given to him for repair by the judge of that city. The king then summoned the judge before him, and after bitterly reproaching him for his faithless conduct, ordered him to prison. The owner of the bag received the amount he had lost, and on the following day the judge was bastinadoed.

ing badly for the villain-hero, always gave
a long and successful course of wrong-
doing, and described always the utter dis-
comfiture of schoolmasters, magistrates,
and other properly constituted authorities.
The careers of these heroes, whether boys
and he longed to imitate their exploits and
or brigands, seemed very splendid to Illings,
to share their fame.

besetting the close imitation of these pro-
There was, however, one great difficulty
grammes, and that was the certainty that
the results would be, in his case, widely
different from what the tales set forth.
He knew the head master too well to
think otherwise. Thus he was impelled
to invent some scheme by which he could
perform some deed of defiance, and yet
avoid detection and punishment.
At length, after much cudgelling of his
brains, he hit upon a plan that seemed to
He made it known to
promise success.
two of his comrades-chosen spirits-and
persuaded them to join him. They were
to form a secret feasting society. The
members were to rise secretly at midnight
once or twice a week, and betake them-
selves to the assistant master's sitting
room, there to demolish a store of pork

pies, veal pies, tarts, and confectionery of
various kinds. Fortunately they decided
that lemonade was strong enough as a
beverage for heroes.

To lay in this store was easy enough, as we were allowed to go into the town to spend our pocket-money on Saturday afternoons. The chosen few could go and perform their foraging, and by returning home early get their luxuries locked up while prying questioners were absent.

For a time all went merry as a marriage bell, at least so far as impunity was concerned. It could hardly, however, have been a very merry business to get up at midnight in November, descend into the dark, dismal regions below, with nothing to warm oneself by but a gas-jet-and what for? To eat tarts, etc., that could have been eaten with far more comfort in broad daylight. But then there was the charm of its being contrary to rules, or rather it would have been so had Carson ever imagined that any one would do a thing so superlatively foolish.

The society increased to six members, but numbers did not add to its stability. Several grumbled at having to keep awake three mortal hours till midnight; and the fun seemed to be losing its flavour. Illings, however, like a true hero, was equal to the occasion. He was a boy of resource. He enacted that they should take it in THE MIDNIGHT FEAST. turns to count the loitering hours and

HERE were about thirtyfive of us studying, more or less, at Ascham House School. The head master, whom we called among ourselves simply by his name Carson, was fond of boys, and knew how to manage them. He was kind, but did not let the reins of discipline hang loose.

One of our number, Illings, a youth of some fourteen summers-not of "bashful fifteen," for he was a saucy fellow-was fond of reading the low and trashy periodicals issued for the refreshment of boys who have no taste for anything better. His imagination was fired with the wonderful tales these " 'penny dreadfuls contained of deeds of disobedience and lawlessness. These tales, while sometimes end

arouse the others.

Alas! The plan that seemed likely to galvanise the society into new life led to its dissolution! One dark night the "weary watch" was proceeding to awaken his jovial (?) messmates, when, feeling his way, he happened to touch the handle of Carson's door. Carson was a light sleeper, heard the noise, imagined that some one had come to his door on account of illness, and at once turned out light in hand. Seeing no one about, he went into one of the bedrooms and observed that a boy was missing. Fancying the youth had gone to pay a visit to another room, he extended his researches, and, after looking into every bedroom, found that six beds in all were vacant. Where could the boys be? They could hardly have gone out in the cold dark night. Ah! now be bas it-the pantry! Down he went, quietly enough, expecting to catch them flagrante delicto.

But no! No signs of any living wight; no signs of buttery invasion. Everything wore an aspect of profound propriety. The class-rooms next claimed his attention. He drew near the room where the feast was just about to commence. His footupon the quick ear of Illings, who desteps, although by no means noisy, fell camped with amazing rapidity. The endeavouring to cover the retreat by others followed suit, except two, who, covering the viands, were too late to escape. One lay on the floor behind a desk, and was unobserved. The other, Cross, pinned himself very flat against the wall behind the door of the banqueting room. The master entered, looked around,

and lo! behind the door he beheld Cross

standing like a statue, but rather more inclined to shiver and shake than statues generally are, while, unlike "Patience on a monument," he was not "smiling on

Hope."

Cross was soon marched into the study, and interrogation began; but he was not particularly communicative. This only made matters worse, for Carson, finding him so extremely reticent, and not having the ghost of an idea as to what was on foot, imagined it must be something very serious. He told Cross in his firmest tones

that he was determined to sift the matter to the bottom, and that the best thing Cross could do, both for himself and his companions, would be to disclose the purpose of their nocturnal rising. The culprit had further the honour of seeing the master's cane, a kind of sacred object that became visible only on very grave occasions. None of the boys then at the school had seen it flourished, but there was a tradition that if, like a comet, it rarely appeared, its effects when it did gleam were much more real than those formerly ascribed to the fiery-tailed visitor. Cross knew that under these circumstances discretion was the better part of valour, and he made a brief statement of the intended feast. He was surprised to find that a mere outline satisfied Carson, who seemed most anxious as to whether intoxicating drinks were included in the bill of fare. Having given a solemn assurance that they were entirely excluded, Cross was dismissed to bed.

Before retiring himself the master strolled round to view the delinquents. They one and all appeared to be enjoying the peaceful slumber of the innocent, and to be thunder-proof fast asleep.

The next day all the members of the society were summoned to a court of inquiry. Following Cross's cue, they answered fairly the questions put, listened

to a lecture on the folly of such deeds, were informed of the punishments awarded (by no means so heavy as they had expected), and handed over their stores to the housekeeper as per order.

These stores reappeared some days afterwards, when there was a nice dinner of roast beef and jam tart, and were distributed among the members amid the Carson merriment of the non-members. spoke of it as a "little treat," a "little surprise," instead of the plain dinner of the other boys, and regretted that the delicacies were not quite so fresh as when they were first made.

Good-humoured inquiries were afterwards made at intervals by the head master as to whether they had had another midnight feast, but the affair was much too ridiculous, both in itself and in its results, to command either repetition, sympathy, or admiration.

JACK AND JOHN:

Their Friends and their Fortunes.

BY MRS. EILOArt, Author of "Ernie Elton," "Tom Dunstone's Troubles," "Archie Blake," etc.

CHAPTER XIX.-DINNER UNDER DIFFICULTIES.

POTTS had ordered a good dinner Pat the Blue Skittles. Wherever he

went, he knew the especial delicacies of the place, and what it would be best to have; and as there was a shop in Barnsley famous for sausages, sausages Peter Potts had resolved to have. He went up with Dick into the little sitting-room. "An' if you'd never left it," he said, "there'd have been all this bother saved, an' my walnuts too; an' there's no getting such walnuts anywhere else, an' this was the last lot Mrs. Dodds had got left. I beat her down sixpence, and now to think of it-four shillings thrown in the gutter! When we come to settle accounts about this habby, I shall look to you to make that straight; but even then," said Peter, dolefully, "1 shall be without pickled walnuts for a year."

Blossy was pretty good for a time. Enoch had brought her up to 'muse herself, as he called it-that is, to sit on the floor, suck her thumbs, and look about her;

but when the dinner came up, Blossy intimated that she wanted other'musing besides her own, and began to make a disturbance. Mrs. Johns, the landlady, looked at her. "Pretty dear, I reckon you'll have cryin' enough. Why don't one of you take her up an' nurse her?

"Mebbe she'll sit on your knee," said Dick to Peter, "while we're eating; an' sausages are main easy to some."

"An' I mean to ease 'em," said Peter. "I said I'd pay expenses, feedin' an' all; but when I pays I carves, an' I couldn't get my dinner wi' that babby a clamourin' an' clawin' at every mouthful."

"P'raps you wouldn't mind holdin' her while we take a mouthful?" said Dick, with wonderful civility, to Mrs. Johns.

"Me! I'll have nowt to do now with the child. I meant to do you a kindness, takin' her from where she was like to be sat upon an' squashed as flat as a pancake. But I'll wash my han's of her now. Kidnapped, indeed! an' the perlice to be brought into the house! No, no. Kill the baby, an' kill it ye will, unless it's taken back to its mother; but all I've got to do now is just to give evidence against you at the coroner's 'quest when you've done for it."

"But how be I to get my own dinner ?" said Dick. "I tell 'ee what; I wonder however they gets girls at all as nurses, or how babbies are reared, indeed, if they're all such as this one."

"It isn't the baby," said Mrs. Johns, contemptuously.

"You might take it for a spell," said Dick, appealing to Peter, "just while I picks a bit."

"I vow not, I vow not!" said Peter,

emphatically. "I pays and you nurses. I don't know nowt about the handlin' o' children; let them that owns them keep to them. But I tell 'ee what I'll do for ee," said Peter, with ingenuity. "I'll cut up your food, an' if there's no other way o'

keepin' the child quiet, you can walk about with it, an' take a mouthful 'tween whiles. Quiet it must be kept; I've allus heerd that screamin's enough to send a child into fits, an' how'll we git the money for it then?"

Dick had to take his dinner in this manner. It was nearly cold by this time, and, as Dick often said, when he did have a thing hot, he liked it hot, not half an' half. But Blossy, who had found somehow that Dick knew nothing of the proper management and due control of babies, kept him on the move. She was becoming Dick's mistress, in fact. He walked up and he walked down, putting now

a bit of sausage in his mouth, and now a bit of potato, and handling the baby rather roughly.

Mrs. Johns lifted up hands and eyes. "The idea of a man using his own child like that!"

"What can a man do more?" said Dick, fiercely, "ain't I walkin' up an' down, up an' down, till I feel nigh ready to drop? Can't get even a mouthful in quiet!"

"An' won't its mother be obliged to ye when you take it back to her ?" said Mrs. Johns. "You'll have to keep at that little game now you've begun it. Babies is the rummyest cretors alive. Are you going to stop here all night with it now?"

66

Yes, to be sure," said Dick. "Didn't we bespeak the double-bedded room at the back o' this?"

66

Ay, to be sure, now I think on't; but I don't know that I'd have let you two had it if I'd known what muffs you are with a child. If you're in my house, mind, I'll have it kept quiet, an' I shouldn't

wonder at all if that baby don't keep you at that pace all night. Babbles will have it once they're used to it. I shude advise ye to go to bed with your stockin's on. You may have the rheumatiz else, an' not get over it for life. That's just how it was with my sister Jane's husband's brotherin-law. It was the first baby, an' he spoiled it the way you're doin' now. That man couldn't put his foot to the ground for a twelvemonth; he was that bad with rheumatiz through walking with the child in the night. He's had a many since, but he never began the walkin' with onehe couldn't, that's one thing-he's allus been lame in that foot since, an' it's nothing but the night walking with the first as done it. However, all I know, I can't have the house roused. If you stay here my place has got to be kept quiet."

He

Peter adhered to his resolution of not nursing the baby, and Dick, however reluctantly, had to submit. He stood in a little awe of Peter. Somehow every one believed that Peter was a wonderfully clever person; and then, too, he was paymaster for the journey, so that altogether Dick did not care to offend him. managed Blossy after some fashion the rest of the day, and Mrs. Johns so far relented that she brought her up a basin of bread and milk, and undressed and put the little creature to bed, lending her some of her own children's night things. Blossy was tired by the excitement of the day and change of air; besides, she had made more noise in the few hours she had been in Dick's charge than she would have done in as many days if with Enoch. So, as soon almost as her pretty little head rested on the pillow, she put her thumb in her mouth and sucked herself off to sleep.

"Bless her! she's a darling," said Mrs. Johns, looking tenderly at her; but added, with a little malicious satisfaction, "She won't keep like that all the night through. Those two wiseheads will have a nice time of it before the morning, or I'm much mistaken. Serve them right. The idea of men thinking they could manage a baby!"

Now Peter Potts had been very well pleased at seeing a double-bedded room. He did not altogether like to trust Dick out of his sight with the little one, and Dick was still less inclined to trust him. The double-bedded room seemed a capital arrangement. Dick went in several timesfor there was only a small landing-to look at her, and came back on each occasion saying, "She's as sound as a roach. Well, we shall have a quiet night, at all events."

"The child ought to sleep after the row she's been making," said Peter Potts;

besides, children allus do sleep o' nights unless they're ill; and nothing ails this one, to judge by the way she takes her food. You've got her in your bed, Dick," he added, sharply.

"Yes, the big un, with the patchwork quilt," answered Dick.

'Oh, there'll be room enough there for her to kick about; but mind you hush her off if she's contrary. I shall be fit for nuthen if I don't have my night's rest, an' one wants all one's wits about one in Lunnon; besides, one's got to be stirring early, so we may as well have supper, an' then we'll turn in."

Dick had his supper in rather more comfort than he had had his dinner. The Welsh rarebits, which Mrs. Johns excelled in making, were admirable, and they were followed by the strong potions of which Peter was certainly fond.

(To be continued.)

THE OMADTHAWN:

A TALE OF IRISH SCHOOL LIFE. CHAPTER I.-SHOWING HOW WE CAME TO KNOW THE OMADTHAWN.

A

NY Irish boy will tell you that the title of this story is Erse for fool or idiot; and, if ever any one had a right to this sobriquet, it was surely Pat Donegan.

Nor was it quite a matter of certainty that he had any right to that surname, seeing that he answered readily to any other, and there was only hearsay evidence that he had lived in his youth with the Widow Donegan, being employed by her to gather herbs for the concoction of simples, which were confidently believed to be certain cures for the " shakes," or for the effects of

the "evil eye." The widow was held to be a witch whose friendship was not deemed desirable, but whose anger was to be dreaded. She was consequently left to herself and the society of her witless companion.

Occasionally he was seen upon the mountain side half clad, and with a body which needed scarcely the rags that served as protection against the cold, for it was covered from head to foot with brown hair almost like that of a monkey.

How he came to be generally known was in this wise. My father, a medical man near Curraghtown, happened to go up in the mountain to see a sick person, by a path which ran by the hovel of the Widow Donegan.

Saved!

Presently he came in sight of the Omadthawn sitting on the roadside, uttering the strangest cries, fondling his mother, who lay extended on the grass, and trying apparently to induce her to eat some potatoes.

As soon as he perceived my father, he ran towards him, caught him by the hand, and dragged him to where she was.

He pointed to the sun, shook her, and burst out laughing in his silly way, as though he would intimate that, although the sun was high in the heavens, his mother would continue asleep.

My father turned the poor woman over, and was shocked at discovering that she was quite dead.

It was impossible to make the Omadthawn realise this, so he was bade take her up and lay her on the wretched heap of straw which served her for a couch.

It was a peculiarity about the Omadthawn that he invariably did what he was told at once, a satire on those who had better sense.

Having accomplished this, my father hurried off for assistance. It was ascertained that the old woman had died from natural causes, and had been dead for two days.

It was necessary to bury her immediately. The following day a crowd assembled to see her put into the coffin and buried. The Omadthawn evidently considered the coffin a huge joke, for he laughed immoderately when the body was put in, and accompanied thern all to the cemetery. He remained very quiet while

the burial service was being read, but when they attempted to lower the coffin into the grave, made strenuous opposition, accompanying the same with the most plaintive cries of grief. At last, seeing they were bent upon it, he suddenly became furious, snatched one man round the waist, and flung him with so much violence against another as to stun them both. Then picking up the coffin, as easily as one would a basket, he marched off to his own home.

What was to be done? He appeared to have the strength of six men, so that it was useless to try and overpower him; and, besides, not one in all that superstitious crowd but would as soon have thought of cutting off a finger as laying hands on " a Natural!"

There were not a few wet eyes following the movements of this witless creature as he walked away with his burden, uttering the most plaintive cries.

At last a farmer hit upon a plan. Getting his gun, he shot a bird, and with it and a spade proceeded to the Omadthawn's hovel. He showed him the carcase, and succeeded in making him see that it was like the dead woman. When he had accomplished this, he dug a hole in the ground, and buried the dead bird.

At first the Natural did not appear to take in the proceedings, but suddenly he gave a terrible cry, which went straight to the heart of every spectator.

Seizing the coffin, he started out for the graveyard at a pace which left every one behind, but when they arrived there the grave was almost filled up, and he was