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Now there were five Zulus left, and only Ernest and Jeremy to meet them. But stay ; suddenly from under a corpse uprises another foe. No, it is not a foe, it is Mazooku, who has been shamming dead, but suddenly and most opportuner shows himself to be very much alive. Advancing from behind he stabs one of the attacking party, and kills him. That leaves four. Then he engages another and after a long struggle kills him too, which leaves three. And still the two white men stand back to back, with flashing eyes and gasping breath, and hold their own. Soaked with blood, desperate and expecting death, they were yet a gallant sight to see. Two of the remaining Zulus rush at the giant Jeremy, one at Ernest. Ernest. having no effective weapon left, dodges the assegai-thrust, and then closes with his antagonist, and they roll, over and over, down the hill together, struggling for the assegai the Zulu holds. It snaps in two, but the blade and about eight inches of shaft remain with Ernest. He drives it through his enemy’s throat and he dies. Then he struggles up to see the closing scene of the drama, but not in time to help in it. Mazooku has wounded his man badly, and is following tolkill him. And Jeremy. He has struck at one of the Kafirs with his sword. Theblow is received on the edge of the cow-hide shield, and sinks half-way through it, so that the hide holds the steel fast. With a sharp twist of the shield the weapon is jerked out of his hand, and he is left defenseless, with nothing to trust to except his native strength. Surely he is lost 1 But noâ€"with a sudden rush he seizes both Zulus by the throat, one in each hand, and, strong men as they are, swings them wide apart. Then with a tremendous effort be jerks their Good day, my dear madam, I'm your old friend Jack Frost, Who is bound torcome back, though you might think him lost. Here I am; how d'ye do ‘2 You don't look, though, too pleased. 0h, yqu think I'm too free in my “'ng'wwell, I'm Oh, my dear_Mr. Jack, if you only could guess What mischief you cause, I am in such a mess For my pipes are all burst, and from ceiling,I floor I‘m fionded~dmÂ¥t know What to do, I am sure By Boreas! really your welcome is cold, It. is not very often my face you behold I Now, tell me what season more beauty can show Than my splendid whim carpet of 30ft flmwy snow ? Oh, yes, Mr. Frost, it is pretty, I'll own, But its beauty, K011 see, 511', so quickly is flown : And then how r 6 air becomes cutting and mw As we slop through the slud and the slush of the thaw ! Presently one of the six Zulus dodged 'in under the carbine and ran the sailor through. Glancing round, Ernest saw his face turn gray. The honest fellow died as he had lived, swearing hard. “Ah, youâ€"*Ablack mate,” he sang out, “take that, and be dâ€"d to you!” The clubbed rifle came down upon the Zulll’s skull and cracked it to pieces and both fell dehfl together. Now, really, you grumble without. a just, cause, If I do send the frosts, I don‘t send the thaws ; Then jpst think of your windows that charmingly The three left alive on the summit of the little hill were, as Fate would have it, Ernest, Jeremy and the ex-sailor, who had complained of the “ sargustic” companion, Who as it happened had just died by his afie. Their revolvers were empty ; Ernest’s sword had broken off short in the body of a Zulu; Jeremy still had his sword, and .ne sailor a. clubbed carbine. éleam When_my tracery I weave, like a poet‘s sweet Yes, the windows I will not deny, sir, look nice, But the same frost will cover my steps with smooth ice ; I am fr' htened to put myfooc now to the ground, For my and follows suit, I too often have found. But no: three men yet stood together upon the very summit of the mound, hold- ing six foes at bay. The Zulu captain laughed aloud when he saw it, and gave a rapid order. Thereupon the remaining Zulus formed up, and, stabbing the wounded as they went, departed swiftly over the dead, after the main body of the corps which had now vanished round the mountain. They left the six to finish the three. Three hundred had come to attack Alston’s Horse; not more than one hundred departed from that attack. The over. powered White men had rendered a good account of their foes. I see, In dear madam, you like to complain, VVell,I'l leave for awhile, but I'll cnme back again. At last the remaining Zulus drew back thgy thought _tha.t it. was done. Out rang the postol-shots, and fire flew from the clash of swords and assegais, and still the little band, momentarily growing fewer, fought on with laboring breath. Never did hope-forsaken men make a. more gallant stand. Still they fought, and still they fell. one by one, and as they fell were stabbed to death ; but scarcely one of them wa sthere whose death~w0und was in his back. THE CHOICE OF THREE: Then the Zulus closed in upon tho doomed band, with a shout of “Bulala Ugllungo !” _(kill the_w}1itema.n.) » But, even as she spoke, her hands were lifted In sudden, sweet surprisn, And the reflection of some dawning Splvndm' lllmned 1101' wondering 9y) ‘. Whm 51m beheld we saw um, and hs-r mpmw Our hearts not yet might share, But with n. Mambrightmnileshe whispurodgludly “ They are not strangers there !" To whom would heaven's doors so freely 011911 A8 to a little child, Who stands with timid font upon its throxlmld mely and undufilod ‘2 No longer clinging to 1101' tender watt-hm 5. And dm‘kuncd by their woe, She looked as if she saw some loved 0m- Inn-km] And was in haste to go. And such an one, 01‘ late, was lowly lying, With fast receding breath ; Over her face the first, last shadow falling She was afraid of death I Her loved ones said, “ 011, do not fem 0 enter Thur land so wide and fa" ' To all their words of cheer she could but answer " I do not know them there!" She’s very queer, yet kind to those Who hear her story out; The young folks think she hardly kilo“ 5 Just what she talks about; His eyes, she says, were brighter far Than all the worlds above, For they brought nearer than a star The gentle light of love, Yes, she is queer, we all confess, And yet her wrinkled face Has such a, wealth of tenderness She needs no youthful grace ; She talks of one so long away And hearts so far apart ; She says it seems but yesterday That. he was near her heart. 'Tis lmrd to make her vompn‘llmul That she has told before The story of a sailor's end Upon a friendlnss shore; She says he was to duty true And bravely met his (100m, Insiuting that his eyes of blue Still guide her through the gloom Perhaps when we approach the shun- Where worldly jnuruo (and, We, too, may tell our 510: vs o'er And younger Burs ()flcud; For age has thought from youth apart And only time can touch The charity of mind and heart That ought to govern each. freezed ! drémn Under False Colors. “ Not Strangers The: MRS. HOUSEWIFE A NOVEL. MRS. HOUSEWIFR MRS. HOUHEVVIFF. 80 Very Queer. JACK FROST‘ JACK FROST‘ JACK FROS JACK FROST t0 “Come, come, old fellow, you did your best, and fought the corps like a brick. No man could have done more.” “0 Jeremy,” he sobhed, “they are all dead, all, except you and I. and I feel a coward that I should still live to weep over them. \Vhen it was over, I should have let that Zulu kill me, but I was a coward, and I fought for my life. Had I but held my hand for a. second I should have gone with Alston and the others, Jeremy.” “Yes, Jeremy, but I should have died with them ; it was my duty to die. And I heads together with such awful force that 1 do not care about living, and they did. I they fall senseless, and Mazooku comes up have been an unfortunate dog all my life. and spears them. i I shot my cousin, I lost Eva, and now 1 Thus was the fight ended. g have seen all my comrades killed, and I, Ernest and Jeremy sunk upon the bloody I who was their leader, alone escaped. And grass, gasping for breath. The firing from ' perhaps I have not done with 1ny Inig- the direction of the camp had now died fortunes yet. “'11th next, I wonner; What away, and, after the tumult, the shouts, next ‘2” and the shrieks of the dying, the sileIJCe! I‘lrliest’s distress was so acute that seemed deep. It was the silence of the Jeremy, looking at him and seeing that all dead. helmd gone_through lied been too much Ernest gazed upon it, and it sank to his heart, which, set to Nature‘s tune, responded ever when her hands swept the chords of earth or heaven. It lifted him above the world, and thrilled him with indescribable emotion. His eyes wandered over the infinite space above, searching for the presence of a God ; then they fell upon Isandhlwuna, and marked the spot just where the shadows were deepest; where his comrades lay and gazed upon the glorious Sky with eyes that could not see, and at last his spirit gave way, and, weakened with emotion and long toil and abstinence, he burst into a pnroxysm of grief. There they lay, white man and Zulu, side by side in the pcaceable sunlight -, and in a vague, bewildered way, Ernest noticed that the faces which a few minutes before had looked so grim, were mostly smiling now. They had passed through the ivory gates and reached the land of smiles. How still they all were 1 A little black and white bird, such as fly from ant-hill to ant-hill, came and Settled upon the forehead of a young fellow scarcely more than a boy, and the only son of his mother, who lay quite across two Zulus. The bird knew why he was so still. Ernest had liked the boy, and knew his mother, and began to wonder as he lay panting on the grass what she would feel when she heard of her son’s fate. But just then Mazooku’s voice broke the silence. He had been standing staring at the body of one of the men he had killed. and was now apostrophizing it in Zulu. It was a glorious scene. Nature in her most Splendid mood flung all her color. streamers loose across the earth and sky, and waved them wildly ere they vanished into night’s abyss. Life, in his mesh radiant ecstasy, blazed up in varied glory before he sank, like a lover, to sleep awhile in the arms of his eternal mistressm Death They determined, after much anxious . consultation, to make for the little fort at l Helpmakaar, and had ridden about a mile or so toward it, when suddenly the Zulu’s quick ear caught the sound of distant firing to their right. It was their enemy the Undi corps attacking Rorke’s Drift. Leaving Mazook to hold the horses, Ernest and Jeremy dismounted and climbed a solitary koppie or hill which just there cropped out from the surface of the plain. It was of an ironstone formation, and on the summit lay a huge flat slab of almost pure ore. On to this they climbed, and looked along the course of the river, but could see nothing. Rorke’s Drift was hidden bye rise in the ground. All this time a. dense thundercloud had been gathering in the direction of Helpmakaar, and was now, as is common before sunset in the South African summer season,travel- ling rapidly up against the wind, set in a faint rainbow as in a frame. The sun, on the other hand, was sinking toward the horizon, so that his golden beams flying across a space of blue sky, impinged upon the black bosom of the cloud, and were reflected thence in sharp lights and broad shadows, flung like celestial spears and shields across the plains of Zululand. lsandhlwana’s Mountain was touched by one great ray which broke in glory upon his savage crest, and crowned him that day’s king of death, but the battlefield o’er which he towered was draped in gloom. It was a glorious scene. Above, the wild expanse of sky broken up by flaming (clouds and tinted with hues such as might be reflected from the jewelled walls of heaven. Behind, the angry storm, set in its rain. ‘ bow frame like ebony in a ring of gold. In ‘ front, the rolling plain where the tall ‘ grasses waved, the broad Buffalo flashing through it like a silver snake, the sun» kissed mountains, and the shadowed slopes. “Ah, my brother,” he said, “ son of my own father, with whom I used to play when I was little ; I always told you that you were a perfect fool with an assegai, but I little thought that I should ever have such an opportunity of proving it to you. ‘Vell, it can’t behelped ; duty is duty, 8.]1d family ties must give way to it. Sleep well, my brother ; it was painful to have to kill you “very.” ._. U- ‘1 '1 Ernest lifted himself from the ground, and laughed the hysterical laugh of shattered nerves at this naive and thoroughly ’llulu mornliziug. Just then Jeremy rose and came up to him. He was a fearful sight to see-whis hands, his face, his clothes were all red ; and he was blood- ing from a cut on the face, and another on the hand. “Come, Ernest,” he said in a hollow voice, “ we must clear out of this." “ l suppose so,” said Ernest. 0n the plain at the foot of the hill several of the horses were quietly cropping the grass, till such time as the inferior animal, man, had settled his differences. Among them was Ernest’s black stallion, “The Devil 1” which had been wounded, though slightly, on the flank. They walked toward the horses, stopping on their way to arm themselves from the weapons which lay about. As they passed the body of the man Ernest had killed in his last struggle for life, he stooped and drew the broken assegui from his throat. “A memento,” said he. The horses were caught without difficulty, and “The Devil” and the two next best animals selected. Then they “ They must be all dead too,” said Ernest ; “ which way shall we go ‘2” Then it was that Mazook‘s knowledge of the country proved 0f the utmost service to them. He had been brought up at a. kraal in the immediate neighborhood, and knew every inch of the land. Avoiding the camp altogether, he led them to the left of the battle-field, and after two hours’ ride over rough country, brought them to a. ford of the Buffalo which he was acquainted with, some miles below where the few survivors of the massacre struggled across the river, or were drowned in attempting to do so. Following this route they never saw a single Zulu, for these had all departed in the other direction, and were spared the horrors of the stampede and of “ Fugiâ€" tives‘ Drift.” At last they gained the farther side of the river, and were, comparatively speak- ingjrsafe, pn Nam] groupd. “I think we have charmed lives," said Jeremy, presently. “Allgone except us two. It can’t be chance.” “ It is fate,” said Ernest, briefly. From the top of the neck they got a View of the camp, which now looked quiet and peaceful, with its White tents and its Union Jack fluttering as. usual in the breeze. next best animals selected. Then they mounted, and rode toward the top of the ridge over which Ernest had seen the body of anns lying in reserve. \Vhen they were near it Mazook got down and crept to the crest on his stomach. Presently, to their great relief, he signalled to them to advance: the Zulus had moved on, and the valley was deserted. And so the three passd back over the neck, that an hour and a half before they had crossed with sixty-one companions, who were new all (lead. I “Into the question of the hnhappy manner in which you came to be placed in the immediate succession it does not become us to enter. \Ve have before us at this moment a copy of Her Majesty’s pardon, granted to you under the Trans vaal Amnesty Act, and forwarded to us by Reginald Cardus, Esq., of Dum’s Nests, [ Suffolk, which we have neither the wish nor i the will to dispute. It is clear to us that, under this pardon, you are totally free from any responsibility for the breach or the law with a vengeance, eh ‘2" “ Sir”(begim Jeremy again), “it is our fluty to inform you of the death, on the 16th of the present month, of our esteemed client, Sir Hugh Kershaw, Eart. of Arch- dale Hall, Devon‘shire, and of the con- sequent devo‘ution of the bm‘one‘ocy to yourself, as only son of the late Sir Hugh’s only brother, Ernest Kershaw, Esq. “ Sir : ” “ You see,” broke in Ernest, ” While we weve fighting over there at Smnshlwana, those beggars were writing to tell me that I was a bayonet. “ Case of the ‘ bloody hand’ with a vengeance, eh ‘2" l‘li'ilest’s distress was so acute that Jeremy, looking at him and seeing that all he had gone through had been too much for him, tried to soothe him, lest he should go into hysterics, by putting his arm round his waist, and giving him a. good hug. At last he came to the desired document; written in afair clerk’s hand ; and having shovelled back the looks of hair, etc”, began to road it aloud : “ \Vell, most people would not think that such it dreadful misfortune.” “ Yes, they would if they happened to shoot the real heir. Bythe-way, what did the lawyer say in his letter? As we are so near home, I suppose I had better post myself up. You will find it in the dis- patelrbox. Read it, there’s a good fellow.” Jeremy opened the box, battered with many years of travel, and searched about for the letter. It contained a curious colâ€" lection of articlesgprominent among which was a. handkerchief, which had once belonged to Eva Ceswiok; a. long tress of chestnut hair tied up with a blue ribbon ; ditto of golden, which had comeAwell, not from Eva’s tresses; a Whole botanical col» leetion of dead flowers, tender souvenirs of goodness knows who, for, after a while, these accumulated dried specimens are difficult to identify ; and many letters and other curiosities. “ Look here, old chap,” he said; “ it’s no use bothering one’sx head about these things. We are just so many feathers blown about by the wind, and must float where the wind blows us. Sometimes it is a good wind, and sometimes a bad one, but on the whole it is bad, and we mint just make the best of it, and wait till it doesn’t think it worth while to blow our particular feathers about any more, and then we shall come to the ground, and not till then. And now we must have been up here for more than five minutes, and given the horses a bit of a. rest. We must be pushing on if we want to get to Helpâ€" niakaar before darkY and I only hope we shall get there before the anus, that’s all. By Jove, here corres the stormâ€"come on i” â€"and Jeremy jumped off the lump of iron- ore and began to descend the koppie. “What,lmven’t you got used to your handle yet ?” “N0, Ihaven’t,and I wish it were at Jericho, and that is a fact. It is all your fault, Jeremy. If you had not told that nonfonndedly garrulous little doctor, who went and had the information printed in the Natal JIwrcurg, it would never have come out at all. I could have dropped the title in England ; but now all these people know that I am Sir Ernest, and Sir Ernest 1 shall remain for the rest of my daysf’ Ernest, who had been listening with his fmce in his hands, rose and followed him in silence. As he did so, a breath of ice-cold air from the stormâ€"cloud, which was now right overhead, fanned his hot brow, and when he had gone a few yards he tu“ned to mth it, and to cast one more look at the scene. “Ah, well ; that is something to be thankful for.” Just then somebody knocked at the cabin-door. It was a steward. “ You sent for me, Sir Ernest?” “ Oh, yes, I remember. Will you be so good as to find my servant ? I want him.” “ Yes, Sir Ernest.” Ernest moved impatiently. “ Confounfl that fellow with his varlasting ‘ Sir El‘nest’ l” It was the lust earthly landscape he ever saw. For at that instant there leapea from the cloud overhead afierce séi‘ea1.1 of jagged light, which sti .mk the mass of iron-ore on which they had been seated, shix cred and fused it, and then ran down the side of the hill to the plain. Together with the light- ning there came an emusplitting crack of thander. JBIC'YI)‘, who was now nea‘ly at the bottom of the little hill, staggered at the shock. When he 1‘?covered, he looked up where Ernest had been standing, and could not see him. He rusl ed up the hill again, Calling him in accents of frantic grief. There was no answer. Presently he found him lying on the ground, White and still. “Well,” said Ernest, impatiently, “I can feel tlnt you are staring me out of countenance.” “Hamba gachle,” replied the imper- turbable one. “I am diidi#idiagnosing the case. There, that will do. To all appearance, your optics are as sound as mine. YOJ get a. girl to look at them, and see wlmt she says.” THE (ILIl-‘FS OF OLD ENGLAND. It was an April evening ; off the south coast of England. The sun had just made up his mind to struggle out from behind a. particularly black shower-cloud, and give that part of the world a lookbofore he bade it good-night. Jefemy looked at them, first in one light, then in another". “ That is lucky,” said a. little man who was with difficulty hanging on to the bul- wark netting of the R. M. S. Conway Castle ; “ now, Mr. Jones, look if you can’t see them in the. sunlight.” Mr. Jones accordifigly looked through his glassprs agAaiI}, u “ Yes,” he said, “ I can see them distinctly." Presentlv he reached a. deck cabin and entered without kvockfilig. “England is in sight; old fellow," he said, addressing somebody who lay back 91 zoking in 9. ca eâ€"c’nir. “ I forgot,” he answered with a smile ; “ it will be very much in sight before I can see it. By-the-way, Jeremy,” he went on, nervously, “ I want to ask you something. These doctors tell such lies.” And he removed the shave. “ Now. look at my eyes, and tell me honestly, am I disfigured? Are tl‘ey shrunk, I mean, or got a. squint, or anything 02 that sort ?”-and Ernest turned 1m his dark orbs, wl ich except that they had amiuired tl‘et pn'nfnl, expectant look peculiar to the blind, were just as they always had been. “See w-mt?” asked another passenger coming up. “ The cliffs of Old England," answerefl the little man j0y01s‘y. “ 011, is that al‘,” said the other ; “ curse the cliffs of old England !” “ Nice remark that for {L man who is going home to be married, eh ‘2” U BHt Mr. Jones had shut up his glass, and vanished afu. The fierson afldres’ ed made a movement as though to rise, then put up his hand to a shade that covered his eyps. » _ CHAPTER XXXVII “ ST. Ifl'l'nlzm‘mm‘s Cox‘n'r, .PHI‘L‘I‘RV,2211(1Jallukn'y, 1879 which you perpetrated some years since; and of this it is our duty to advise you. Your title to succeed is a. clear one. â€"A politician should have tough Vitals. Lord Iddesleigh provoked his fate byacceptâ€" ing office. He had heart trouble, and doubt. less: when he was broken of his office his heart broke, too. ” As was only to be expected under the circumstances, the late Sir Hugh did not bear any feeling of good will toward you. Indeed, we do not think that We shall be exaggerating if we say that the news of your free pardon materially hastened his end. On the attainment of full age by the late Hugh Kershaw, Esq., who fell by your hand, the entail of the family estates was cut, and only the mansionâ€"house of Arch- dale Hall, the heirlooms, which are numerous and Valuable, therein contained, and the deenpark, consisting of one hundred and eighty-five acres of land, were resettled. These consequently pass to you, and we shall be glad to receive your instructions concerning them, should you elect to honor us with your confidence. The estates pass, under the will of the late baronet, to a distant cousin of his late wife’s, James Smith, Esq., of 52 Camper. down Road, Upper Clapham. We now think we have put you in possession of all the facts connected with your accession to the baronetcy, and, awaiting your instruc- tions, have the honor to remain, “ Your obedient servants, (Signed) PAISLEY & PAISLEY.” “ Ah, so much for that l” was Ernest’s comment. “What am I to do with Arch- dale Hall, its heirlooms, and its deer-park, consisting of one hundred and eighty-five acres of land, I wonder ’2 I shall sell them. if I can. Mine is a pretty position ; a baronet with about Sixpence halfvpenny per annum to support my rank on ; a very pretty position!” Little Toddlesi“ No; you don’t know What I mean. I thought it would be so nice for you to skate ahead of me and find all the weak places in the ice‘” . Aunt Meg (wishing to encourage generosity)r“You might let me take yolujsf’ m ~w. ,.‘V 1 n I Little Toddles#“ I wish you had some skates, too, Aunt Mpg}? Mr. Shabby Genteelfi“ Will you be kind enough to tell me if it is a fact that the President has vetoed the Pension Bill '2” Gentlemun»â€"” He has.” “ \Vell, if this; country gets into another war. just count me out. I’ll never risk my life again in the service of my country.” “ \Vere you hurt during the war ?” “ Indeed I was." “ \Vha.t regiment were you in ?” “ I wasn’t in any regiment. I got the rheumatism from bathing in the St. LEW» rence River during the second day of the battle of Gettysburg. Ah ! sir, those were the times that tried men’s souls. Haven’t got a. surplus (lime for an old vet., have 3 you ?”-T('.rus Slfliilgs. pretty position?” “ Hamba Gachle,” replied Jeremy ; “time enough to consider all that. But now, as we are on the reading lay, I may as well give you the benefit of my correspondence with the officer commanding Her Majesty‘s forces in Natal and Zululand.” “ Fire away,” remarked Ernest, wearily. “ First letter, dated Newcastle, Natal, 27th January, from your humble servant to Officer commanding, etc.” “ ‘ Sir : “ ‘ I have the honor to report, by order of Lieuter wt and Adjutant Kershaw, of Alston’s Hosse, at present incapacitated by lightning from doing so himself’ "â€" Wife (to husband who is arranging his toilet at the mirror)ACan’t you take me to the opera toâ€"night, dear? Husband (de- cisively)â€"~N0; I cannot. Opera indeed! Do you think I am made of money ? Wife (after a pause)â€"I don’t see any need of your spending so much time brushing your whiskers, dear. Husband (turning around with an angry glitter in his eye)â€"‘VVhy not ? VVifo (smilingly) â€"â€" Because one brushing is enough, and you are handsome enough without going to all that trouble ; it would be hard for you to make yourself any handsomer, at least in my eyes, than you are naturally, no matter what care you give to your toilet. ‘Husband (after com- pleting his toilet)â€"-I’m going down town for awhile. By the way, Bella, on second thought, I guess I can manage to get a couple of opera tickets, so you can consider the going settled. Ta, ta. Wife (solus, after his departurelvl thought I would fetch him “ Very. Goon.” â€"“ ‘ that on the 22nd inst., Alston‘s Horse, having received orders to check the flank- ing movement of the Undi Corps, pro- ceeded to try and do so. Coming to a. ridge commanding the advance of the Undi, the corps, by order of their late commander, Captain Alston, dismounted and opened fire on them at a. distance of about three hundred yards, with considerable effect. This did not, however, check the Undi, who appeared to number between three and four thousand men, so Captain Alston issued an order to charge the enemy. This was done with some success. The Zulus lost a number of men; the corps, which passed right through the enemy, about twenty troopers, Captain Alston and his son Roger Alston, who acted as his aide-de-cemp. Several horses and one or two men were also severely wounded, which crippled the further movements of the corps. “Vet? neatly pfifi that, I think,” inter 1)0]a:09& J erepy. “ ‘ He estimates the total loss inflicted on the enemy by Alston’s Horse at from four hundred to four hundred and fifty men. In face of such determined bravery as was evinced by every one of his late gallant comrades, Lieutenant Kershaw feels that it would be invidious for him to mention any particular names. Every man fought desperately, and died with his face to the enemy. He begs to inclose a return of the names of those lost, the accura y of which he cannot, however, guarantee, as it is com- piled from memory, the papers of the corps having all been lost. Trusting that the manoeuvres attempted by Lieutenant Ker- shaw under somewhat difficult circum- stances will meet with your approval, I have, etc” “ ‘Under these circumstances he deter- mined to fight the remainder of the corps to the last, and dismounting them, took possession of a fairly advantagoas posi- tion. A desperate hand-to-hand encounter ensued. It ended in the almost total exter- mination of Alston’s Horse, and in that of the greater part of the attacking Zulus. The names of the surviving members of Alston’s Horse areâ€"Lieutenant and Adjutant Kershw ; Sergeant-Major Jeremy Jones; Trooper Mezooku (the only native in the corps.) “ ‘ These ultimately effected their escape, the enemy having either been all destroyed or having followed the track of the Undi. Lieutenant 21nd Adjutant Kershaw regrets to lmve'to state that in process of effecting his escape he was struck by lightning and blinded. “ ‘ Lieutenant and Adjutant Kershaw, on taking command of the corps, determined to attempt to retreat. In this attemptY however, he failed, owing to the presence of dismounted and wounded men; to the detachment of a. body of about three hundred Zulus to intercept any such retreat; and to the presence of a. large body of Zulus on the farther side of the pass leading to the valley through which such retreat must be conducted. “ I’Bryrolrder of Lieutenant Kershaw: (Signed) “ ‘ JEREMY JONES, SergeantMajor.” (To be continued.) The Boston Courier publishes the follow ingfigyidlenfily for [he lzenelfit of the .ladies' The Dear Child’s \Vish. How She Fetched Him. The Bogus Veteran M‘V‘NVGéll, he 111an generally shoots the col lectors.”â€"Omaha Herald. 7 7“ I can symupathize with him. “mat does he do usually ?” “ It. may be. I know all about that. My family is the most sensitive folks you ever seed ; can’t stand nothing. Why, I’ve got a. brother that goes most crazy if he sees a dollector coming with a. bill he can’t pay.” Decline ofBrltish Possessionsâ€"Fncts About West India. U. B. Pewter, a resident of Kingston, on the Island of Jamaica, is at the Laclede Hotel. He is the manager of a. company which is engaged in mining phosphate on the GrandCayman’s Island, near Jamaica, and shipping it to the United States, Where it is used for fertilizing purposes. This phosphate is the remains of animal life, jaccording to geologists, and is thought to have been left in the immense beds in which it now lies by the subsidence of some prehistoric sea. The deposits upon the Grand Cayman’s Island are in masses from three to fifty feet deep and at some distance from each other, some of them sustaining upon them the growth of forests known to be more than one hundred years old. Upon the present commercial and sees] condition of J amaioa and the Whole group of West Indian islands, Mr. Pewter talks discouragingly. Colorado manâ€"So you think the trouble wiph yqur boy is sensitiven'ess, eh ? w .1 Orflaha ma;n--â€"Yes; he isn’t fitted for knocking arpund_i_n the world. \Vhen near his end, Lord Northington was reminded of the propriety of his receiv» ing the consolations of religion, and he readily agreed that a divine should be sent for, but When Rev. Dr. M , not with whom he had formerly been intimate. was proposed, he said, “No, that won't do. I can well confess to him, for the greatest sin I shall have to answer for was making him a bishop.”~~(;lasyow Harald. “The islands and their inhabitants are re- trograding rapidly,” said he yesterday. “They are exporting less and less every year, and the natives are departing more and more from civilization. The reason I believe to be the abolition of slavery in 1824. The effects of that step were not felt by the white planters until the old slaves began to die, and the new generation had to be depended upon for labor. They would not work, not having been bred to industrious habits, and each old slave that died was so much loss to the quantity of labor to be obtained. Some of the planters resorted to the expedient of importing cooly labor and did very well, but a large number of owners did not do this, and estates on the island went to ruin fast. As time passed on it became more and more diffi- cult to obtain laborers, and the evil effect of this unusual idleness was seen in yearly decreasing imports. The negroes need not work to get food and a housewthese can be had for iiotliixigAaiid the only reason why they work at all is that they may earn enough money to dress in expensive and gaudy colored clothes. That is the only use they have for money. If slavery had not been abolished, or if it could be re» established, the islands would flourish.” Half an hour later he gets up. His breakfast has been kept warm for him. It is set on the table and a fresh cup of coffee made. His mother dances attendance on him during the meal, unmindful of 21]} past threats and promises.~Tid-Bit~. H ‘2’) “I’ll ‘hey’ you, you idle thing, you! I’ll tell your father on you.” “ Tell away.” “ You’ll see what you’ll get, Wait VVin- throp. Not a single bite of break!" mt do you get.” “ Guess I’ll stay in bed, then.” “I guess you won’t, if I come up there ; you out of bed yet ‘2” “ Almost.” ” \Vell, I’ll help you the rest of the way with the broomstick if you aint out in five minutes.” out?” “ Yes’m.” Another half-hour passes, and Mistress Temperance Prudence Piety Winthrop’s voicggoegiripgi‘pg upstairsâ€"â€"â€" throp l” “ VVhacher want ‘2” “ I want you to h’ist yourself out of that bed too quick! You hear ?” “ I ain’t deaf.” “ Breakfast was over an hour ago, and not one single bite shall you have in this house before dinner.” “ I’ll see about that.” “ So’ll I, young man 3 You crawling “ I’ll let you know if there ain’t, about the time I come up there with a. pan of cold water.” ” Can’t ye let a teller sleep half a minute '1” ” ‘Halfa minute !’ I’d say ‘ halfmminute’ if I was you, when you’ve been in bed thirteen hours. Now you crawl out of that instantly l” “ All right.” Half an hour passesâ€"Waitstill does not appear. His mother’s voice cuts the air in the hall. “ What of the reports that the prac. tiee of cannibalism has been revived in Hayti ?" “ In the main they are true. Ha-yti, of all the West Indies, is the most marked exâ€" ample of the decay of the islands. “Then the French left it, in 1772, they left a superficially, at least, religious people, with churches, factories and roads. Now there is not a church or factory in the island,and but one road, while the Catholic religion has been abandoned for the Obi or fetish worship, and cannibalism has again sprung up. The island is a black Republic, and no whites are allowed to own property. In fact, the only whites on the island are afew European traders, who conduct the finan- cial aflalrs of the Government and lend it money. The island is not communicated with by the people of the other islands, and the negroes are left to devour one another as fast as they please. Their human flesh eating is not that of the past century. They do not eat the flesh of those who have died, and having nobody to war with they can take no prisoners to cook and eat. They eat the flesh of children, taken when young, penned and fattened for the feast. Some- times they steal children from the neighbor- ing islands and fatten them for their tables. They are drifting back into complete bar- barism, and there is no inclination on the part of other islanders to interfere with their gradual extinction.”â€"~St. Louix (Holm- Darlmrmr. “ VVaitstill, you getting up ?” And fancy Waitstill surlin replying : “ Yes’um, by’n by.” “Well, I don’t want any by and by about it. Hump yourself out of that now.” “ Well, purty soon.” “ It had better be pretty soon, young man, if you know What’s good for you.” “ Well, I reckon there ain’t no hurry about it.” We do not sigh for a return of the “ good old days” when boys went barefooted until they were 21, and walked ten miles to and from school. There are now new and im- proved methods of “ toughening” boys. They are about as tough, generally speak- ing, as they can very well be. But we do sometimes long for a little of the old-fash» ionecl discipline and “ trouncing” methods that imade boys subservient to the will of their parents in some slight degree. Imagine a good, old puritan mother getting her son Waitstill or Godspeed up of a morning after this, the fashion of our mod- ern mother. Fancy her saying: Ydu Wait You Waitstill Prosperity Dogood Win CANNIBALISRI IN HAYTI. A Colorado Sensitive Plant. A Peel"s Cmnpunction The Modern NIethuds. In A Dakota. woman in the upper James valley decided that she wanted a fur cloak. She began trapping mink and tanning the skins. These she sent to St. Paul, where they have been made into a beautiful cloak for which she was offered $125. Bypodennlc Injections “’liich Cause Death in Many Cases. Opium has been known as a drug from a remote period, and is produced as an article of commerce in India, Persia, Egypt, and Asia Minor. In China opium is used to an enormous extent by all classes, the mode of taking it being to smoke an aqueous extract in a peculiarly formed pipe. Opium smoking began in China in the latter half of the seventeenth century, and in spite of all the efforts of the govern- ment to prevent it rapidly spread till now it may be called a national practice. That the drinking and smoking of laudanum and opium are not unknown vices in New York any physician will allirni. But there is a practice which is even more deleterious, the use of the hypodermic syringe. To estimate the growth of this ‘ evil, it is only necessary to take the testi- mony of druggists and dealers in surgical instruments. The fact is, it has become a problem with which social reformers must deal. Acquaintance with this method of taking opium is made innocently enough, it generally having been prescribed by the family physician to alleviate some tem- porary ailment. The effect is observed by the patient, and too often when the doctor goes the syringe stays. There have been many stories of large quantities of opium taken by those addicted to the habit without producing a fatal effect. An Englishman lately resid- ing in this city was known to consume sixty grains each day. Prominent up-town druggists declare that they sell more needles to their general customers than to the medical profession. Equally conclu- sive as to the prevalence of the habit of subcutaneons injection is the fact that, whereas druggists’ customers used to buy in quantities of from (30 to 120 grains in the crystalline form of thc muriate, the sulphate, or the acetate, the sale now largely consists of the solution in quantities of from one to six ounces. A reporter talked yesterday with a prominent physician upon this topic. “Many medical men,” said he, “are un- aware that the use of the hypodermic syringe is always attended with danger of instant death. The cause of this danger is not well understood, but the fatal accidents that have been recorded were not due to the taking of larger doses than usual by mistake, nor to the culminative effects of the drug. Cases have occurred in which persons have taken large doses for months without producing a single unpleasant symptom, and have died in a few minutes from the effects of a quarter of thcliabitual quantity taken in the usual manner and at the regular hour. in the demonstration of esteeiii for Her Majesty. In a few weeks the names of one hundred and seven farmers willing to con» tribute were received by, and published in the lflitenhage ’J'imr's, the proprietors of which paper undertake to have the articles made up and forwarded to Her Majesty. A rare collection of feathers will doubtless be got together, and some valuable and unique articles of dress made up. A Novel Dress. A novel suggestion in connection with a gift to the Queen on the occasion other jubilee comes from South Africa. Shortly before Christmas the Eitenhage '1'1'2111'5’, 1L Cape paper, suggested that a present he made to Her Majesty the Queen of a robe, dolmnn, fan, etc., made of South African ostrich feathers, contributed by South African ostrich farmers. The conditions were that no person contribute more than three feathers, so that all might participate So much has been said from time to time in relation to the Morgan affair of 1826 that I have been induced to give parâ€" ticular attention to the affair. Half a century ago most of the men connected with the affair were alive and willingly gave me their statement of the facts. Some time in 1824 a man calling himself \Villiam Morgan, 9. stonemasou, came from Canada to Rochester, N.Y., and settled there. He was a disreputable, worthless fellow, but smart and forward. He brought with him what purported to be a Masonic diploma, and he succeeded by its aid in visiting the lodge there. A few months later he began to travel among the lodges of Western New York, and in 1826 removed to Batavia. Here he was detected as an impostor and publicly exposed. This so exasperated him that he announced his purpose of publish- ing an expose of the secrets of Free- masonry, and actually began, in company with one Miller, a printer, to prepare such a work. Some of the more thoughtless Masons threatened him with grievous penalties if he did not desist, and the public gave credence to the idea that he was in peril of his life. Gov. De \Vitt Clinton, who had long been Grand Master, concern» ed for the honor of Masonry, took the lead in raising money to induce Morgan to go back to Canada. A committee of most respectable gentlemen took the matter in hand at Clinton’s request, and on Septem- ber 10th, 1826, Morgan started for Canada, where he had promised to settle down near Hamilton, and his family were to be sent to him. But free, and with money in his pocket, he pressed on to Montreal and all trace of him was last. He may have been murdered for his money by the roughs with Whom he associated, or, which to me is more probable, he may have shipped before the mast on a Europeanâ€"bound vessel. At any rate he absolutely disappeared from the pages of history. rrrrr (for. St. Louis Ulnlm “mum'rat. Form-«1m Remain in an Antique Chair by a Mechanical Com l'i‘ RIIOP. An amusing story concerning the Duke of Edinburgh is being told. \Vhile at Chester His Royal Highness was shown, at his own requestY by Canon Tarver, en es“ tablishment where antique furniture might be picked up. The foreman who waited on them was all unconscious of the quality of the Duke. and on His Royal Highness noticing a. peculiar antique chair, asked him in jocose manner to try it. The Duke sat down, and immediately his arms were im- prisoned by a mechanical arrangement of the chair. The Duke struggled to get out, but could not do so until the shopkeeper re‘ leased him, after giving him a certain amount of polite chaff. The Duke asked the price of the chair and bought it. The shopkeeper asked where he was to send it, and on being told that he was to send it to Canon Tm‘ver’s for the Duke of Edin- burghY the shopmen was literally dumb- founded at the fmniliarity he had used. The Duke afterward remarked that never had he seen a men so frightened in his life.“ London Exchange. “There is a danger of fatality against which no vigilance can guard. The symp- toms are not always so severe as to produce coma, unless arrested. They occur about once in one hundred administrations, and prove fatal at least once in ten. That is to say, a man who uses the hypodermic syringe at the rate of ten punctures a day, which is a very modera e average, should encounter the symptoms and their attendant danger of death once in every ten days on the average, and the probabi- lity is that they will prove fatal within six months after the habit is formed. The danger that he may be found dead is thus always a real one with the habit of the hypodermic, a danger that may at any moment involve a coroner’s inquest and the imputation of suicideWâ€"Now l'm'lsflluil and l‘lfl'pl't‘ A VERY DEADLY NEEDLE. An Old Masonic (vandal. TRICI(ING A DI THE CWK’S BEST FRIEND The Husband of Five Xvives and Father of Twenty-five Children. One of the most familiar characters about Hamilton, and one whom everybody knows, is Uncle Tommy Sterett, writes a. Hamilton, 0., correspondent of the Cincinâ€" nati Cummm'viuL(hm/mu The 7th of this month he celebrated his 77th birthday anniversary, and from appearances will live to celebrate many more. He was born near Venice, on the Miami. His first work was for Isaac Anderson, with whom he lived as a farm-hand, receiving 33 a month for the first year. Mr. Sterett has outlived four wives, and now lives in hap- piness with his fifth. He first married Mary Wells, of Kentucky, the couple startr ingin life together in a log cabin twelve feet square with dirt floor and a. chimney made of mud and sticks. The wife weaved and purchased flour, while the husband mauled rails in exchange for meat. By his first wife Mr. Sterett was the father of eighteen children. Mr. Sterett‘s second wife was Isabel Brosior, by whom he had one child. The old man said he could not remember the dates when he married his different wives, as his memory was poor, and he “ couldn’t recollect these little things.” _ After living four orfive years Isabel died,aners.Martha Nichols took her place. This was along about 1852, and five children resulted from this union. Mrs. Robert Pierce became the forxrth Mrs. Thomas Sterett, and she died about twelve years ago in Indiana, without leaving any children. Uncle Tommy’s present wife was the widow of William Smith. 0116: childâ€"Johnnie, aged lOâ€"is the last addition to the Sterett family,and he completes the even quarter of a hundred children who claim the old man as their father. These children have grown up, married and emigrated, and many of them are living today in parts unknown to their aged parent. Mr. Sterett lived in Hamilton in 1815, when, as he says, 1t was a common sight to See Indians, bears, pan- thers, deer, wild turkeys, foxes und wolves in the roads, and prowling about the town. He has always been a Democrat, always expects to be, and first voted for Andrew Jackson for President. When the war broke out five of his own sons and four step-sons went to the front and served until they became veterans. The old man wanted to go, but the boys thought there were enough out of one family, and that he had better stay home and take care of the children, while they did the fighting. The farthest ho was ever away from home was a trip to Louisville to see his boys during the rebellion. Although a bitter Democrat, and from Butler county, too, the old man was loyal, and opposed to the conduct of the South. Had he had more sons fit for duty they, too, should have gone, Mr. Sterett asserted, as he recalled those stir- ring days. Uncle Tommy has been a laboring man all his life, and was boss of the First \Vard street gang for nine years. 'l‘o-day he is able to walk to his daughter’s house, fourteen miles away, in less than four hours, and none can work harder than he. He has used the weed since his Mth year, and worked for half a century, seeing nolhing but hard knocks and much trouble, lml is at present strong and hearty. 14). W. Ran, a Gornmn compositor of Ba]â€" timore, told \Vai‘ner Rieve that when he died he wanted his body sold to a. medical college and his debts paid with the proceeds. He died on Wednesday, and Rieve obeyed his friend‘s wish and Hold the body for $10 to the Maryland University. Rieve was greatly surprised the next day when he was arrested for dealing in dead human bodies. First Larlines, I have tried three dif- ferent Hmving-nmchines in the past six months. Second LadyiV’Vhat pests these smvingâ€"machine agents are, 9.11% they ? First Ladyâ€"Pests ? Why, if it wasn’t for them ,I Should have had to buy a. machine ten years ago 1” Doctor~ Your heart is in a normal conâ€" dition. Nervous ()ld Ladyâ€"Goodness! And is it fatal? Doctorâ€"‘It’s beat is iam- bic. ()ld Ladyâ€"M‘s just dreadful! Doe» tor WVere it trouhaic, or even spondaicâ€"" Old LadyAiDoctol‘, don’t keep me in this horrible suspense. Give me some medicine at once. Doctoery dear, there’s nothing the matter with your heart. 01d lodyir ()h ! there isn‘t? \Vhy didn’t you say so, then ‘2 “ I don’t mind giving up my neckties before they're half wornout,” said a society young man yesterday, “because they look pretty in crazy quilts. But I’m going to draw the line on my married lady friends hereafter.” “ Why ‘2’ asked a. friend. “ The last lot. of smurfs I gave to Mrs. ~ ~ her husband has been wearing ever since. Do you blame me ?”v‘1>’14fl'alo Courivr. The chilling wintry winds develod rheumatic affections, for which the surest cure known is MoCollom’s Rheumatic Re- pellamv, prepared by \V. A. McCOllom, druggist, Tilsonhurg, and sold by druggists at $1. Sample bottles 25 cents each. At the Club: “Upon my soul, Dodson ! you are the dismalest company I know of since that Brown girl gave you your congi. I never saw it fellow take the mitten so wretchedly.” “ \Vretchedly 5 Haw ! “'retched isn’t a name faw it. You can, aw, fawncy how wretched I am when I tell you, I, aw, don’t cnyaw a wap how my, aw, bweeches fit me.” Town fl'npics. Strictly True In every respect and attested by the testiâ€" mony of thousands tlmt Putnam‘s Painless Corn Extractor is EL sure and painless cure for corms. The claim that it is just as good made by those endeavoring to palm off imitations for the genuine only proves the superiority of “ Putnam’s.” Use only Putnam’s Painless Corn Extractor. Sure, safe, painless. ()hserx'ing‘ the I‘roprletios. At dessert : One of the guests has been speaking of rather a lively song which has made a hit in the Lutinqumter. “ Oh, sing it to us,” says the Countess de Santa Grne. “ Impossible, it’s really too naughty.” . _ y . V. “ Well, then,” pm'msts the countess, “glve us only the words." I’dl'ix ["I'gru'u. may 1w 11ml by all who are sufficiently intelligent and cntorpriszing to emhmcn the opportunities which occasionnlly are on} ed them. Hullett & (10., Portland, Maine, have somothing new to (film in the lilli‘ of work which you can do for them, and live at l1mne.whorever you arelocatod. Profits immon, a and ovory worker is sure of over 55 n (1113' : sv ' ml have made over 550m {L single day. All ugvs ; both sexes. Capital not required; you are started from; all particulars true. You had hettur write to them at once. Branch ome'é'; 3‘7"iafig3st., Toronto , , . \ u. ulnlus amuumg lune [men (-un-Il. )utlcsd, m strong is my mmm m enivnry, that I \\‘ I m‘nr‘ 'I‘\\'0 BOTTLES FREE, together with a VALUAJELE 'I'KEA’J‘ISE (In [his disable IO tn, sum-Mr. (HYUCMIH'E and? O addren. _ DR. QLOI'UM, Tired of Giving Away Neckties. UNCLE TODIRIY STER ETT. The Utmost Dry”: 0!“ M Sn 11g Lil tle Fortunes N L. 10. 87. II nu xlincase ; In Its us; ‘ orlong standing is [fallhiu Ill