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And'dispatched to subscribers b) the earliest mails. or other conveyance, when so desired. The YORK Hmmu) will always be found to contain thalatest and most important I"oreign and Provincial News and Markets, and the greatest care will. be taken to render it ac- ceptable to the man nfbusiness. and 21 valu- able Family Nchpnpcr. TliRMS:â€"()ue Dollar per annum, 1N AD- VANLE; if not paid within Two Months, One Dollar and Fifty cents will be charged. Allletwrs addressed to the Editor must be oat-paid. No paper discontinued until all urrearnges are paid : and parties refusing papers without paying up, will be held accountable for 'the subscription, Six lines and undm‘. first insertion” ..$00 50 Each subsequent inserlimh... .... ... . 0013 Ten lines nuzl untlv". firstinsertiou. . . . 00 75 Each subsequent insertion” . . . . . . . . ... (JO ‘20 Above ten lines, first insertion. per line. ()0 U7 ‘ 'Iuch suhsoquam insertion, per line. . . . 00 02 Una Column per twelve umulhs. . . ... . 50 (H) Hall'ncnlmnn do do ....... 30 (H) Quartz): of u coin mu per twelve months. 20 00 ()na column pm six nmmhs.. .. . . . .. . 44) [IO Hulfncolumn do ... 25 (‘0 Quarter of a rohllnn [mr six months. . . . 18 [In A card of ten hams. for one year. . . . .. 4 ()0 A card 01' fiflunu iiuus. do , u. 5 ‘25 A cardoftwenly lines, do G50 EFAIHCN'HMHOMS without written (“motions userled iii) I'm-hid. anz' charged accordingly All ndvortisumnnh puhhd‘ed for a less peliod ‘han one month, musx he paid for in advance. All transitory advex'lisemenls, from strangers orin‘ngular cusmxnors. musL he puid for when and rd in for inser'ion. _ R, HUS H‘I Fri-HUS numerous friends le l1!0n:<n accept Ins sincere thanks for their libi'rul pau'unagn and prompt paymem. and wonhl announce (hm he wiH continue lo devote t “o wlmlu uf his numninh to 1le prac- tice ot‘Mudiclno. Surgm‘y and Midwifery. AH calls. (night. or day! prompfly aliendud {0. Elgin MiHs, ()clohur 5. 1566. JOHN M. REID, M. D., 008. 0F “33% mm CBLBURNE STS., V] ILL genei': - Em fauna at home before haH' pad 8 mm and from 1 m ‘2 p.111. AH parties owing Dr. J. llnngsmfi'm'e nxpecl' ad to (tail and pay prmilpliy. as be has pay- menis now Hm must he met. Mr. (Eco. Hurliiit i»; aqthorised Lo coliect,and give receipts Iur him. Richmond Hill, June. ["65 1 Consultzuimus in the office on the mornings of Tuesdavs‘. Thursdays: and Saturdayu. U to “La. m. {IQ’AII consultations in the ofl'lco, Cash EVERY FRIDAY MORNING, OEFICEâ€"over the Gas Company office Toronto Street, Toronto. Toronto. August 1. 1867. ,1 RICHARD GRAHAME, 'Barrimct nub fittotncg-at-fiam, SOLICITOR IN CHANUERY, &c READ & BOY D: Barristers, Attorneys at Law, Solicitors in Chancery,&c., 77. King Street East, lover Thompson's East India House) El. T E BC 7.5.4" Y, E S (1-, N0 1111.? Y Pm: LIO, CUMMESSEGFEER iN THE QUEEN’S BENCH, cm! prompL (JONVEYANCER. AN!) DIVIflIOE-I COURT AGENT, GEO. B. NICOL, BARNSTER, fittarnayâ€"a’t-Law. Solicitor in Chancery, C ONVEYANOE R, &c, &c., &c OFFICEâ€".Ill the “YorkHemld” Buildings, Richmond Hill. {1:} Mnney to Lnnrl. July, 51214550. 5-ly M‘NAB, mam 85 JACKES, {Earrng 33's £3; Misra ’s-at-Law Solicitors in Chancery, ' CONVEYAXCI-zns, &c. Ol-‘fICEâ€" In the Court House, . .TORONTO fixme 1, 1866. 59 -& RAE-’2". VANS" SEEMS cmrmms AND PUMPS 1 Muuummured and for Sale Flooring and ler lumber dz'esde, Fellows saw“ and Shingles for sale by 301111 Langstafl THOMAS SEDMAN, Carriage and ‘Waggou MAKER. UNDERTAKER 4m. 5m. &c. Residenceâ€"Newly opposite the Post Ofiicg RmLmond Hill Thornhill, June 1A'l‘1‘lr3 OF A DV E RTISING. May 7.1866 Richmond Hi flue {99th germ . N . B L A K E , BARRISTER AT LAW, CONVEYANCER 8L0 mcnmnxn mu. PWST OFFICE. GRICSJNH‘IN'I‘S, fond-z, DPQHL“, Mortgages. - Toronto. READ, 62.0. 1 J.A. BOYD \Vle iszm‘fi Elaimctomz. AM Mums Tnmmmm LAW CARDS. IS PUBLXSHED I'UUHNHILL L\zc.,r1m\'.'n WM" Terms moduraio‘ Juno 9.1855. 1 1860 TORONTO. wnh attention 40-” NEW SERIES. NOTICE TO FARMERS. RICIIBIOND HILL l‘IlLLS. GEO. H. APPELBY EGS to inform the Famets in he neighbor- hood of Richmond Hill, that he has leased the above Nhlls. and has put them in thorough repair, and will be glad to receive a share of the patronage of the pulllic. G-R‘ISTIVNG AND CHOPPING, WILLIAM COX, Done 1 “Lu. um“ mu..- m. ...., . . - 'l‘he higheu lnarket'lm‘c:girvéu for Caule. Sheap, Lambs. &0. Richmond IL”. October 15. 1867. Ly Done on xhe shortest nouce. WThe highest market price paid for \'\ lit-M. Richmond Hi“, N0v.14, 1867. 2nd door north of Barnard’s store. RICH MO ND HILL, EEPS always on hand tho lmsLof Beef. 7 Mutton. Lamb, Veal, Pork. Sausages, ‘tc, and sells at the l-Iwed p.i(:es. flEMON’S HOTEL! r I U . . , travellan cmnmunily. 1hn.ne has lens- ed the above Hotel on Richmond iill, and will dz-vmu Ins attention Lo tho (‘omt'oyt and convenience of L: (we who may favor him with their palmnage. The host, Stabbfing and Driving Shed on Yonge St. The bus\ Brands of Wines, Liquurs and Cigars kept constanl‘y on hand. A careful lloslel' alvays in attend» 2111' B. u..- .1. Au Omnibus leaves this Hotel athaif past seven mm. daily. DANIEL HORNER, Jun, Maple 7 ‘HE Subscriber begs to inform his menus and the public genernhy, that he has opened an HOTEL in the VilIage of Maple. 41h Con. Vaughan, where he hopes, by atten- tion 10 the conn'urls of (he travelling commu- nity. to merita share of their patronage and uppon. Good Stabling. A'Lc , hvn‘v. h!\ ‘7 A II‘ PC 7W1”: SUBSCRIBER announces to the Sla R MALLOY’S A XE l lCSll)ENGEâ€"â€"Lot ‘26. 2nd Con. Markham on the Elgiu Mills Plank Road. A large Stock ofS‘I'Avms and Sumaus. km)! constantly on handmnrl snld uflha lewesl Prices [13" Call and examine Stock before purchas» lug elsewhere. l’ust Office Addressâ€"Richmond Hill. Maple. Jan [866. Ladies and Gentlemen, win true chart of the foot, can prm either French Kid or Calf, hy c ordering it at T. DOLMAGE’S. Richmond Hill, April 4, 1867. June 18.65 'E‘ M 3*} 0 i; 5} “91‘ E 51, Tho hoct of \Vines, I, he found at Lhe bar. 0 (in!) fur [lflvulldl'éh A in attendance. Thm‘uhill, July 4,1857 ’i‘HE Subscriber begs to inform the Public that ho has leased the above Hotel. where he \villkoepconstantly on hand a good suppiv of first-class iaiquors, die. As this house possesses every accommodation Tra- velterr (:nu desire. those who wish luslay where they can find every (tomfuriure respecti‘uii) in- viwd to give him a call. DOLMAGE’S HOTEL, GIDEON DOLMAGE. Proprietor Richmond Hill. Dec.1865. ‘28-:1' Kept on hand, SA WING (lone promptly ; also Lumber Ton gued & Groved Al the lowest possible rates. Saw Mill on lot 25,211d Con. Markham, 2; xmllvs easlol' Richmond [III] by the Plank Road Richmond Hill. June L'G, l865. 4-ly Plamml Lumber, Flooring, &0. itéQFICPIIILLIPs 8: SUN Provincial Lam! Surveyors, PLANEING TO ORDER, Sales attended on the shortest notice' and on reasonable terms. Orders [anal the " Herald" office for Mr. Carter's services will be promptly attended Lo. Jnno 27, 1867. 4OR the Counties of York, 1‘90! and On- tano. Residence : Lot 8, Glh concess.on Markham. l’ost Officeâ€"Uniouville. LUMBE BING- ABRAIIAM EYER June 7,1855- Vol. Vlll. N0. 33. GEORGE LEMON Richmond Hill. Doc. 4. 1807. 490-13' J O H N CA RT E. R, LICENSED AUCTIONEER 'I'HORNHILL. HENRY HERON, Proprietor. lmlyoctnf \Vines, Liquors audCignrs will \ found at Lhe hm‘. Comfortable accolnnmda- m for umullws. A careful Hosller always "B AVID EYER, Jun., ave 8; Shingle Mamufacturer EGS requectmlly (o iufovm and the publlc that he in In any quantity, (LATE HAYMUNLVS) RICHMOND HILL Successor to James Holliday, RICHMOND'HILL A'ND YONGE ST. GENERAL ADVERTISER. ‘ATE VAN NOS'I‘RAND’S, SEAFORTII. C. W PHYSIOLOGY- Lot 20. 2nd (‘uceossion Markham BUTCHER, Gentlemen, who require a 1e foot, can procure one in (id or Calf. by calling and FOR SALE BY RICHARD VAILES. 32- ly and on short notice '2an Con. Markham inform his friepds 1 his customers prepa-rud to do for Toronto 1-H It had floated awav from the beach and bay. Out of sight of tower and town, An empty and a. battered boat, And that boat would not go down. The morning rose on the waters wide, And the night. fell cold and dark, Yet ever on with lhe wind and tide Drifth that balttsred bark. The sail had passed from its broken mast, And its painted pride was dim; The salt sea. weed clung round its 130“ 5, Which had been so sharp and trim. Where were the merry mates and free, \Vho had gone with it afloat, We never learned ; but the world's wide sea. Hath lives like that drifting boatâ€"- Lives that in early storms have lost Anchor and sail and car, And never7 except on Lethe’s shore, Can come to moorings more ; Out of whose, loveless. trustless days The hope and the heart have gone-â€" Good ships go down in SLormy seas, But those empty bouts drift on I Theyhad hearts to sail in the Wind's eye once '1 hey had hamds L0 reef and steer, With a strength that would not stoop to chance, And a faith that knew no fear; But the years were long and the storms were strong, And the rainbow flag was furled, And they that launched for the skies have A TRAGIC STORY. VVlwt I am about to relate is of so singular a nature that had it not occurred within my own ken, 1 should hesitate to speak of it as plain fact. Forming, however, a part of my own personal experience I can, of course. vouch for it. In telling my story, I mean to confine myself to the relation of things ,as they occurred, leaving you to form your own solution ol'what. first and last has been a mystery to me. I am rough. and mattcruotifact; and quite deficient in that acuténess of intellect which \Vlll scent and trace a mystery, and hunt it down in spite of obstacles and difficulties. I am, as you see, a very old man now. I was a very young man, but a short time ondainvd, at the period of which I shall first speak. A Welshman born and'bred, l feltl more ('lale than it I had succeeded to a principality on the day when, having managed to exchange my comparatively well‘paid English curacy for a Welsh one, with ten; times the work. and tt quarter the stipend, I stood and looned about the in the little solitary house: which was heneelorth to tiold my l’enaies. Mv little gl‘eV house was small, and mean, and utterly void: of tlte liundred-and-one so-called necessaries ol ciVitized life. That is what you would have thought of it. It suited me, I extilted its rudeness, its isolation, its contrast Will] my late residence in highly eiViliZed England. lierel was my, own master ; there, society's abject and most unhappy slave. It did me good, this grand, Wild. melancholy landscape, which formed my world‘ now. its every detail suited me; the dark depths ot the lake by whicn my house was built, and in- lto Which the overhanging moun- ziains cast their shadows, the. pictur- esque masses ol'stone, lying about, ‘crushed into the sward ot' the val- ley ; ilie sweepingutines of hill, of ‘l'Ofik, of“mountainâ€"the majestic cloud-shapes that hung low upon their necks; the. splendour of ever- varving light and shade, which to lto an artist would have been Tilp~ titre. Day alter day l blessed God for my freedom. My home in the lake valley was in every sense ol the word, a lone- ly one :â€"I liked it all the better tor that. High up amongst the hills were two ofthe great sheep-farms, or l'lul'od-lai, as the. welsh call them (literary, sommer-farmsâ€"from Hafod, a summer restdence) (or 1 which our country is remarkable. 1 The owner of these terms, my nearest neighbours, were both shrewd, clear headed, intelligent men. So, indeed, to my mind, were most of my flock, scattered here and there, at wide intervals. over an extent of parish that exer- cised my walking powers very fully. With my poor Welsh friends lgot on much better than with my urbane and punctilious English sheep, whom I was constantly grown But the drift-wood Cf the world. MYNACH-HEB-UN-PEN. THE DRI FTING BOAT. fii‘lmmm figmmg. “ Let Sound Reason weigh more with us than Popular Opinion.” RICIIEIOND HILL, F RIDAY, JANUARY 17, [868. ; ‘slranger to me. ' grand poise of head offending by my plain speaking and rough wavs. it was about three months subsequent to my arrival at the lakevallcy. I was returning home from attending at the death-bed of a parishoner-an : old woman who had just departed at the ripe age of one hundred and threeâ€"n sage in years, a child in conscious, she had gone to meet 1 her God with a smile upon her face leaving three generations to mourn her. While musing over this Christian death-bedJ struck across the hills in a direction which, , I fancied. would shorten my walk at least half a mile. My supposed t short-cut gave me plenty of up and down hill walking and clambering, so that l doubtedâ€"~21 doubt after» wards fully confirmedâ€"its being a shortcut at all. libwaver, but for my short-cut, or long cut, as it proud, 1 should not have had this story to tell. As 1 clambered and scrambled onwards,l saw before me a hill, somewhat higher than the rest, which. from my side, bore some resemblance in outline to a headless draptd figure. I at onCe concluded that this was the hill with winch a. foolish legend connected the stone eliigy of a moak'which had, once upon a time it was said. been fished out of the lake, and which now lay moss- ' grown, and half imbeded in the soil, about a stone’s throw from my house. There certainly was a curious resemblance of shape be- tween it ani the hill before me. . as l have said. lconcluded that my short-cut would presently lead me to the hill I had heard ofin connec- tion with the foolish legend of My- w... traclt-heb-un~Pen, and of which tne poor headless monk lying below in the valley was at once the foundation, the theme, and the proof. To my surprise, as 1 near- ed the hill in question..- " ’sawv 45w smoke, like smoke from a chimney. Had I been in Ireland. I should have fancied that my short-cut was leading me to the discovery of an ‘ illiclt notheen manutactory. As it 1 was, curiosity quickcned my steps; very soon I had clambered up the ‘ neck, peering eagerly forwardsl Not, however, until l had descend-t ed three parts of the other side, did' ldiscover, built into a hollow at its loot, either natural or scooped out for the purpose. a long rudely-con- structed dwelling, which= but for sort of chimney, would still have defied my observationmwing to the fact ol it sloping roof being cover- ed with turf as green and close as upon the hill of which it seemed to form part. Seated outside this rude dwelling. bending low over some site was young, dark, and an utter Presentlyl notei with growtng curiosity and sur- prise, the classic grace and beauty ofthe bent head and figure. Un- consciouslyd had checked my pace, and my steps fell so lighliy on the became aware of my approach. As hergreat dark eyes, fell upon me. a crimson flush suffused her face and throat; with the gesture and impulse ofa startled fawn, she dropped the old fishing net she was mending, and half rose to fly. Next some intruder upon her privacy. An impress, indeedâ€"a very Juno was this woman, dressed in rough, peasant garb. busied with this mean \tt'ot‘kâ€"â€"t‘esidirtg, apparently to his hovel amongst the hills. Juno-like she was, notwithstanding in me enough of artistic perfection. to know that there was in her all that one understands by the tertn classical; the low wide forehead, with its sweeps of waving. blue- black hairâ€"the delicate brow, the firm nose, the short, curled, upper, for vouth and youth’s rounded out- lines, would have been to massive for beauty. lu all this, and more â€"â€"tbe rounded, pillar throatâ€"the thereonâ€"the slope ofshoutder and bust; slen- derness of waist, whiteness and (le- l t l l l t , 7 ,‘ . . | 'cending lromrirâ€"r'fitrml :eloud’wf 1 l l side of Mvnacn’heb-un-Pen. and was standing upon his reverence’s its whitevwashed walls. and the volley of smoke whirling from a work. was a woman of whom my first glimpse only informed me that short, thick award, that l was close to this young woman before she moment. however, she might have been an empress, haughtilv eyeing “superb in face, figure, hearing. Rough \Velshman, as l was, 1 had lipâ€"the sharply chiselled mouth-â€"â€" l the sweep ofjaw and chin, that, but licaey of handâ€"she would have matched, aye E surpassed, any pa- Worm. l l was piqued, and stubbornly determinod to make. her reply. Do you not speak Weluh, then I I ask- ed. No. That seems strange in a mountaineer. as you seem to be. l had no idea that any of my flock lived here. She eyed me contemp- tously from head to foot. the most intense scorn in look and voice, as she said: Nor do they. We are nothing,, to you, you to us. with a slight, proud obedience, walked into the cottage shut the door behind her. [lad 1 been the \‘ilest men, she could not have been treated me. with greater ignominy. Caring nothing for this mysterious Juno, and being naturally by no means thin-skinned, her singular manner had no other effect than to puzzle and excite my curiosity to a pitch lnever remember to have felt before. \Vondertng, pondering thinking, supposing, my brain busied with this adventure, l arriv- ed at home in a state bordering on Irwirrbc A guessed nor The woman rose, and,f .that from everyone I know i sought for some clue of the mystery of the 'mvaterious dwnller or dwrellers on Mynach-heb‘un-I’en. That this singular Woman was a. lady, even the tetfiwmds she had spokenJalten with her refinement of person and grand air, left no doubt upon my mind. But it was in vain l sought to solve the riddle of her present existence in such a place. Most of those to whoml spoke upon the subject, heard for the first time of such an abode being in existence. All that I succeeded in learning was, that about a year before the turf thatched house had first been discovered by some children hunt- ing lor bilberries ; that from one. or two trival circumstances, which circumstances, which might or might not be correct, it was sup posed that the folks now living in the. hoilow of Mynaclt-lteb un-l’en were man and wife, and were lrish Beyond this 1 could discover noth- ing; and now what had [discover- ed? Nothing.â€"â€"Thcre ended my researches. A Couple. of months elapsed befme 1 again saw or heard anything of this imperious Juno lt \vasa wild night, towards the end ol September. The day had been very fine, but for a couple of hours belorc dusk 1 had bobde 3 Common change. The increased beauty of light and shade upon thel mountains, the heavy cloud wreaths drooping low upon them, the pecu- liar wail ofthc horns which upon the Hafodtai were used in place of belts to summon the shepherds to their supper, were. to my now ac- customed enr, stuns infalliable of a storm, which before morning: would have swollen the waters ofthe lake and transfon’ned tiny mountain rills into streams and cascades. indoors l was very comfortable. i had closed the. shutters, sent my one servant, to bed, built up the firmand‘ set the tea-kettle on the blaze. With a stout roof over my head, a good fire on my hearth, a, supply of new books, my tea~ltettle singing, and my slippcred feet on the lender, I settled down for some. hours of quiet enjoyment. The wind, that whist~ led and moaned amongst, the hills â€"but intensified my sense. of the comlorts of my “ ain fireside.” About an hour had passed thus, when a loud knocking startled me- front my book. The book tell from my hand, and I sat staring, in doubt whether! had heard artght, so unusual. indeed unprecedented. was the occurrence in this lonely spot. The knocking, repeated with fierce violence, soon assured me of its reality. l was startled a little. The place was so secluded; my trician of ancient Greece and Rome. i see some of you smile at this pic- ture of my net-mending Juno. Aye! ladmircd her, as I admired our mountains and lakes, our grand scenerv. Stayâ€"~not quite so. For, whereas those attracted me, this. grand creature ’ repelled me. There was ferocitv, as well as beauty, in her mien; a sullen, dark lookâ€"a smouldering gleam of eye â€"â€"-that impressed me most uncom- fortably. In my mind, I likened her to a beautiful panther. Not without an effort did l recover pre- sence 01 mind to greet. herâ€"as was customary with me, using the old Welsh salutat-on, which, from the first, had made me welcome amongst my flock. It had no such effvct hme. A stately inclination of the head was the sole reply to my greetinf’. TERMS $1.00 in Advance only domestic, a deal old Welsh- woman was snoring in her bad; I was away lrom all human aid. 1 might bc murdered; but, pooh! who would murder a poor curate like me? . Robbers? I glanced around me; the poverty of every. thing reassured me on that score. Yet. before going to the door, I look the precaution to arm myself with a pislol, which I kept loaded over the fire-place. Having seen that it was in ()ldel. I look up the candle and walked out. The knocking had continued, growing fiercer and l()l]ll(‘l’. Amid a passion of blows, I undid the bolts, but litfpt the chain up while Iqueried: ‘ \Vho is there?’ " r woman !â€"-only a. woman-â€" open l” The angry. scornful tone. struck me as falttiliarâ€"so tar. at lvust, that I thought I recagnised it The idea by no means mussuwd me. While I was laminating, the voice spoke again. ‘Fur Christ‘s sake. open !’ it sllrieked, in toan of agony too terrible to be assumed. a life. is ebbing away ior want of hell), you stand trembling for sell, and parloying with a wretclttrd,‘ maddenod woman !’ l was ash-am od of my hesitation. and Hung the door wide open. In from the storm rushed a. tall figureâ€"a woman, panting, raging; hair and dress torn and disltcvelled. the long, black locks streaming nearly to her leet ; [0am from her lipsâ€"«blood upon her breast, and over her drenched clothes. It was the im- perious Juno oiMynaclrhehnmpen. Beaten, wounded, blc-Hding, her eye‘s blazing, ltcr f‘ulut‘es convulsed with anguish and (lesltatr, the wo- man was still imperious and grand. ‘ Vhy do you stand staring and hesitating.’ she cried. while a life worth ten of yours is being lost for want of help 'l It is murder, I tell Vonâ€" foul, cowardly murder 1’ and she shuddercd, and grc N paler still. Then she turned on me. stamping her foot at me. ‘ Make. haste ifyou have the heart 04 a than within your breast,’ ' Bring wine with you.~ Wine might have savvd him, but 1 had none. Do you hear iâ€"hring wine. I tell vou!’ Wine 1 had none; 1 never drank il. l told her so. ‘But l have got a little brandy, lsaid,’ ‘ which [ keep by me in case of sickness. Come in while I fetch it; and let me give you a hot cup of tea.’ She made a gestnre of retusal, and passed out again into the night. ‘Make haste,’ she re, peated, ‘I will wait nerc lor you.’ In Immher minute I stood beside her, and put the flask into her hand. She thrust it into her bosom, clutch- ed my hand in a firm, strong grasp,; that held it like a vice, and hurried me furiously onwards. i had thought ofa wrap for her, but, know- tng that the impracticable W0- man would reject it with scorn, l forbore. She said no trom; nev- er relaxing her clutch of me, and dragging me on at a pace that. left me b.eatltlcss and speechless when we stood within the hill-side dwell ing on Mynach-heb-nn-Pen. Wait here a moment, my guide said, as with a sort of cry, half gasp, half sob, she {lung open the door, and let me in. A light in one of the windows had flickered. and waved a signal to us as we approached. Snatchinu this from the window- ledgc, she sprang towards the torn remains of a curtain that divided the room into two‘portions, and passed behind it. There was a hush than. only broken bv the sound of laboured breathing, with, at in- tervals, a low moan, as of one in some terrible agony. ‘ You are a minister of the All- Mcrciful!’ it wailcd, ‘and, while Though sorer hewiltlercdâ€"feel- ing, indeed. Like the unconscious actor in a (ll't’fdlflâ€"-i had curiosity enough to glance around me while waiting. The light, such as it was. now streaming through the. rent cttrtaina.sttllicctl to show that. in this poor abode, there “as nothing beyond what the exterior betokenetl I had looked for hooksâ€"«for pictures, perhapsâ€"4m marks of refinementâ€"- for what there was not. The only thing I could see at all retnarlta‘tle. was the heavy crimson curtain, stretched across the room; this was ol handsome material. apparently, and the rents in It gave me the idea ol recent violence-â€"not of accident. or wear and tear. In places, it had every appearance of having been forcibly torn from the rod along which it run. In fact1 the disorder ‘of the furniture, overthrown and dis- arranged ; the rents in the curtain, and the low, feeble moan~ l had a \Vllole N0. 496. ed with woundsâ€"his face livid, motionless. and insensible; even the low moan, which now and again stirred his lips, seemed to me an unconscious utterance of nature. [its features. even in deatl1â€"-for death‘s seal was upon themâ€"were ,strikingly handsome, of their kind. As far as 1 could judge, in his blood stained condition. he was fair, rath- er elfeminate in person, with fea- tures of almost womanly delicacy, and long. waving, golden hair. He looked young, tooâ€"«younger than the woman upon whose breast his head rested. She had raised him in her arms, and laid his head upon her bosom; in the very clasp of her arms round him there was a pas. slottate tenderness that stirred me to deepest pity. Here, by this ghastly death-bed. she was a was man to pityâ€"a woman tender; pai- sionate, subdued. Her upturned eyes, as they questioned mine, were toll of piteous entrealy. God knows â€"â€"I never did, and never shall know ~~what was the connection between this woman and this murdered man. ldo not think he was her husband: she never spoke of him as such; there was no ring upon her hand. Attire time, I lelt that, ill the presence ol Death, their great love was sanctified. It may be a strange thing for ‘a minister of re- ligion to say, yell will boldly say, I hold that woman to be less sinful who, loving truly and deeply. is tempted to her fall, than she who, for money or worlle position, sells herself to the highest bidder. The one degrades herself; the other de- hases not liersvifalone, but makes of God's sacred institute the debas- ing medium. She had in vain been trying to get some of the branth be- [Vt een his clenched teeth; the hand which had forced me at such speed onward, now trembled and shook like that of a decrepit old woman. I knelt beside her. and with my handkerchief moistened the parched- nps, Even then. I knew he had but alew minutes to live. In si- lencel felt the heart and pulse-m the livid brow. wet with the dews of death. ‘ Who did this 3’ l asked ‘ What has happened 'l' ‘ Murder !' Foul, cruel, cowardly murder l on God! have mercy, and spare him l: ln my very arms, upon my breast. they butchered him. Butâ€"~he may recover yewâ€"may he not 'l’ l shook my head. ln pity to her 1 spoke truth. ‘ Belorc longâ€"~before many minutes, all will bo over.’ ‘ Oh God !â€"â€"â€"Oh ‘Saviour leâ€"be merciful l’ she moaned. ‘Let him, at least, l: now me before he dies ! One look even, astoken ol forgiveness! Ah! It is hard, hard to bear.’ lIer arms tightened around the unconscious man; her knee sank over his, as her voice fell in a low despairing cry. A minute after, she started up, and looked questionineg at me; she, had felt his last cenvulsire quiverâ€"he was dead. ‘ What is this in is it come 1‘ she gasped, with shuddering anguish. ‘lt is come. He is dead.’ ‘ Deadâ€"~dead-â€"deadâ€"-dead !’ In the si- ‘lt nce of the night it was as if, in that cry, another human soul went forth. J was mute before such agony. A little and she kissed the pale lips. lald her dead upon the blood-stained bed, and rose. ‘ Leave me- now.’ As she spoke voice and face were altered anew. Youth and grace, softness and beauty, were fled; in their place, hardness and desperate ferocity, and gloomy resolve. ‘ 1 must be alone awhile,’ she added, seeing me hesitate; - you can return with early morning. There will be work to do.’ ‘ Aye, this must not go un- punished,’ I answered, giving utterance to one 01' the thoughts that had been occu- pying my mind since my entrance. Hue e) es blazed at my words. ‘ Unpunished !’ she hissed-«Wt thall not! By the God ahote, whose eye has witnessed all, I. swear it; and by the blood that once for wengeancefl swear it. Hushl~to one who has strut-red liked‘me such words are impotent. Do you know what was his crimeâ€"his, Who would not have hurt. or pained the least ol~ God’s creatures. It Was loving me. (froâ€"I mu~t be alone awhile. or I shall go mad.’ I went ou', leatingqr her on her knees once more, with. her dead clasped upon her breast. Outâ€" side the threshold I paused to kneel myself and pray to the gentle Saviourto be mer- ciful to this, his hardly-tried creature. \Vhen, at daybreak, I returned. the door was locked. When [ lou-nd that to my knocking there was no reply. I forced in. the door. and enteied. The place was empty; the woman was gone; the corpse had disappeared. There, doubly horrible in the fresh light of day, was the bloody much; there was the torn curtainâ€"the over turned furniture. The living and the dead had vanished, leaving no trace, no clue to the past, or to the future. couple of times heard from behind it, all gave witness to some fresh and terrible strife. 1 had barely time 10 note all this, when the wo- man’s voice called to me~â€"her voice though so low and tremulous-e‘ He yet lives! He may. perhaps, re- cover!’ she said. ‘Will you come and see him 1’ A few steps brought me past the curtain. to lhe Slde ofa. low. rudely-constructed bedstead, thP sheets and coverings 0! which were positively saturated with blood Upon this a man lay, his body gash- The Record says “Jerusalem is soon to be lighfed with gas.” A fearful gale swept over Gibraltar on Dec. 10th. Vauban, the most successful three-year. 01d race-horse of the season, ran 13 races, won 9, and- landed £13,425 in stakes to his owner.‘ To be continued.