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Drawing a Turkish ottoman to her mother‘s feet, Louie dropped down upon it, and with her small hands clasped tightly, her face a little flushed with eagerness, pro- ceeded to speak of the Brentwoods’ antici- pated trip abroal, anzl of her desire to ac- eompany them. They made such a perfect picture sitting there. The beautiful mother, in her velvetaml sill: and (limnouds,the look upon herface that told shellad realized all the happiness ear 11 can give, that th re was with her nothing more to be Lie-,ireil, and the fair young girl,herwhite cashmere dress falling in soft folds about her figure, mthe expression in her eyes half eager, half dreamy, that showed she had life’s greatest pleasures yet in anticipation. “I aim positive that they will,” answered Alinefimpulswely. “It never seems to make much difference where you are to your father, and your mother generally thinks as he does, you knew.“ Louie shook her pretty head sorrowfully. “Yes, 1 know,” she said monrnfully. “Uh, Aline, 1 wish it (lid make more (lifl'er- encc to papa.” “Speak to them to-night about it, Louie, and come round to-morrow morning and tell me what they think of our plan,” she con~ tinned, “and use all your eloquence to plead our cause.” Having kissed Louie *aptnrously. Aline drew her down upon the vexet couch. A Sinking back upon the satin cushions of her low chair, Muriel listened as Louie told her of the bright plans she and Aline Brent- wood had that day made, growing eloquent and earnest as she spoke of the places they meant to visit and the things thev meant to They had been friends at School, she and Louise Authon ; and alter the school‘days were over, and both had entered society, the sehoal friendship had deepened into a. warm and close intimacy; Seerccly a day had passed that they did not see each other,a.nd Louise felt as much at home in the Brent- wood mansion as she (lid in her own house. Muriel apprm ed of and envoui-aged the inti- macy; the Bx‘entweeds mowed in the 5 me high circle of society that the Anthem did; Mr. Brentweed was every wealthy man; the Brentweol name was an honored anti aristocratic one. Had it been otherwise, Muriel would have long ago found ways and means to break oil the intimacy between Louie and Aline ; she had lived too long in the fashionable world not to have become thoroughly inoculated with the idea of social caste. “ Stillin her own heart Alice Brentwoml was very thunk’ul that her own affectionate, demonstrative father had no such cold un- natural way. It was not until after dinner that Louie h‘oached the subject of the trip te Europe to her mother. Mr. Anthon had gone into his sanctum for his usual after-dinner smoke, and mother and daughter were alone together in the magnificent library with its paneled walls, antique furniture, and cum- ously wrought, window and door draperies. Any stranger seeing them together would have taken them for sisters rather than mother and daughter, for Muriel, in her trailing dinner-dress of pearly gray silk and violet velvet, the rare old creamy lace about her neck, leaving exposed aportion of her round, full throat; and a great cluster of purple and gold pansies in her wonderful hair, was no less lovely and but little older looking than Louie. “0h, mumma, I am 5,0 anxious to plearje‘i And then sitting there in the large, ex- quisitely furdished room while the soft May wind crept in through the open wlndows and kissed their face, the two young, fair girls planned out a summer as bright any that were ever spent’u summer all flowers and sunshine. They did not either of them stop to think that; there never was a sun» mar yet without its storms of thunder and min, ofhlack clouds and lightning flashes. d “Indeed it is pleasant, and if everything comes out just as I want it to come, it will be perfectly lovely,” :aid Aline, enthusi~ asticnlly. “Louie, it was decided this mom- ing at the breakfast table, that, we are to go to Europe to spend the summer.” “And that is what I am (lvtc‘rminml you shall do,” said Aline, trininpimnly. “Mann um and I planned it; all O'nL this morning, and we are both quite sure your father and mother will consent to your going with us. We shall sail the second week in J unc. and be gone until October, and only think, Louie, what charming times we will have ; we will go everywhere, promenade Paris, «limb the Alps, run through the Tyrol, go to London, Vienna, and ’~â€"und Aline paused ior breath. SEC. “I thought I would come right up stairs, dear,” she said. “Jackson told me you were here all alcnc. Oh. Louie, 1 have something to tell yJu, guess what it; is ‘3” 7 “How; perfcétly lovely,” said Louie czu'n- estly, and then suddenly, “Oh, Aline, I wish lwag gping with you.” ~ ‘ - ‘ “ltwoull certainly be charming,” mur- mured Louie, her lovely eyes brightening at the very thought. “I wonder will they be willing to have me go.” .u 1 r u '9 “1 cannot guess,”luughed Louie. “It is something pleasant, I know, because your eyes are shining like stars, Aline.” 4.. “It is only his way, Louie, he loves you dearly, I know, for how could he help it? What earthly reason has he for not loving you? None at all ;Iit is on‘l‘v. his‘way.” 1 “But. maxinna, you know I have always wanted to travel through Europe, audit seems too bad when I was born in France that I have no personal knowledge even of the country which was my birthplace. Then it is such a. nice opportunity for me to go ; Mr. and Mrs. lh‘cntwood have been all And wafmuhcai'tcd Aline, who knew the secret of Louiu’s sorrow, and who had seen far herself the cold indifference with which Mr. Anthon treated his only child, made haste to comfort her, savinor : “I (3.011% know,” mulmurcd “mic-l, thoughtfully. “ I do not quite like the idea nf having you go so far away from me.” HIS SACRIFICE : CHAPJ‘I‘IR XIX . --((.‘~.)XT1.\' I: H). ) For Igove of 1101'. CHAPTER X X 0R. no, “she Shelmd listened intently, her dimplcd chinin the pink palm of one little hand, a dreamy, farâ€"away look in her velvety brown eyes. When Municl harl finisher! speaking she was silent a moment, as thoughhex' thoughts were very busy, then she said. snnply : “You must have been very giad when you found you loved papa ; I cannot imagine anything more terrible than to be married to a man and not love him.” “It is not so terrible, Louie, it" a wonmu has all honor and respect for her husband." Louie clasped her hands impetuouely. “Honor and respect,” she said passionate- ly, two [right scarlet spot! coming uponher cheeks, “what are they in comparison to the love God meant husband and wife should have for each other? He did not mean that for honor and respect alone two people should take each other for better for van-g, until death should part th em. No. 0 meant that they should be bound together by the deepest, purest love, and it seems to me that a. marriage without that love can- not be a true one in the sight of Heaven. There can be honor and respect without love. mamma. but there cannot be deep, pure, true love without honor and respect." “\Ve had been married abmt ten months when he was obliged to go away from me~ to go a“ ay into Mexico, Where he had every reason to suppose he might be detained for some time. Louie,” and Muriel’s eyes heâ€" gan to darken with earnestness, “it would break my heart to have him go away from me now to remain for an indefinite period ; I could not bear it. Then I felt differently; the thought of his leaving me did not till me with passionate sorrow and pain. Still I missed him very much when he had gone, the house seemed very lonely without him, andl resolved that when he returned he should find me more bring and devoted than I had ever been. He was detained longer even than he had expected to be. It was March when he went away, itflwas June when he came home to mewand how well I remember that day ! I had no idea. he was on his way back; I had grown weary and heartsick waiting tor a letter to come to me telling me when I might expect him ; yet I did not blame him for not writing; I knew that was impossible, for the business which had called him to Mexico led him out upon the plains, far away from any post-town. I had been lying down and waked out of a sound sleep to hear that my husband was in the house, and just as I was, in my pdynoir, 1 went to meet him. And when I felt: his arms around me, his kisses on my lips, when after so many days my cyrs met his, love for my husband was born inmy heart, strong and mighty even at the very hour of its birth. I have never ceased to love him from that time.” - Rather anxiously Muriel looked ill-1201:1103 (enmest eyes, wondering if that love of \'\ hich Louie hwd Spoken had yet stirred the youlg heart. Years afterward, every word of what her mother had just said, came back to Louie with bitter, terrible distinctuossi “Louie, have you ever seen any one for whom you think you might feel this deep love ‘5” she asked. The truthful eyes met hers unflinching‘y, there was no shadow of deceit in them. "No, mzunmaJ have never met any one to whom 1 0011121 givethis love.” V :- For a moment Louie was silent ; then she asked, abruptly : “Mammu, have you (Alfl'dyn Lvmi papa as you do now ‘3” Muriel’s face flushed at; the sudden ques- tion. Taking Louie's hands in her own white, jewelled ones. she looked down mm the frank, truthful, brown eyes. A-puzzled. astonished 100k leaped into thebrown eyes, there was a shade of re- proachin tne clear sweet voice as Louie said : Though the argument was undeniably a clear one, though Muriel hail spoken very earnestly, Louie was not convinced. Still she did not give voice to her own thoughts and opinions upon the subject, she only said, quietly: ‘ A little over a year,” answered Mui‘iel. xuusingly, i lly playing with one of Louie’s soft, gold~brown curls, winding the tress of sunshiny hair round and round her slender fingers, and thinking of that wild March night when the rain had (lashed against the windows, and the wind had moaned about thehouse, and Russel had told her the story of his rmkless sinning brother’s life, and showed her Arnndel‘a pitiful appealing let- ter, and then had asked her if she was will- ing he should go to him in Mexico. “I have not told'you. demfl but I did not 10\'_e your father when I married him." “Because it was his wish as well as your grandfather’s. I respected and honored him, and he, knowing that, was content to make me his wife, and to Wait until love for him grew up in my heart. There is no surer foundation for love. Louie, than honor and respect, and after awhile love came. Is there any happier woman than 1 am to-day ‘3 is there any wife who loves her husband more dearly than I do ? No ; and the reason for it is that the love which comes after mar- riage. and which is built upon honor and respect, is ineffably deeper, truer, and more lasting than the love which, having attained its greltest height before marriage, is sadly apt to burn itself out after a few years of married life.” “116w long was it. mammu, atter you were married, that you began to love papa?” She had spoken truli. Never could she be sorrowful or misorablc so long as her life was passed by the side of the man whom shellrmly believed to be her lawfully wedded husband. All other paalons~ even her love for her child, that great mother-Iove~were swallowed up by the deep. intense, absorb- ng love which Arundel Authon’s first kiss had awakened in her, and which all these years had been stainlin incrrmihg‘ “1' 011 did not love him ‘3 Then, mamnm, how could you have married him ‘1” Muricl’s e'yes grew golden with deep ten- derncss. “Yes, Iwill have him,” she murmured, drcamily; “and so long as 1 have him, I can never be lonely or unhappy.” “Yes, that is 8.0,” said Muriel, “and I could trust you implicitly with them. They are such charming people, and Mrs. Brent- wood is as particular as I am, and thinks us I do aboutâ€"well,about a. great many things. But I should be very lonely without you, Louie.” ' t “You will have papa,” said the girl, :11- mgsâ€"t b_it_ter1y. over Europe, and they know all the best and most integestipg plgges 159 visjtfr’ _ “Great God! what a mockery it is I" he muttered. “She c 1115 me fatherâ€"w hat would she call me 1f she knew? Strange her eyes unman me as they do ; It seems al- ways as it" Russel was looking at me through them.” Arundel shuddered as he met the lustrous brown eyes; just at that moment they v are so terribly like the eyes of the man he had left; to die alone out on the plains of Mexico, that 11; made him sick and faint to look into them. Mechanically he took up his paper, and, thinking she had interrupted his reading, Louie turned to leave the rooms. Rising from his chair, he poured out, with unsteady hand, a. glass 0t brandy. It was not; the first time Arundel Anthon had taken brandy to quiet and steady his nerves. The tenth of June the Brentwoods, with Louie Anthem, sailed for Europe, and among her many friends there was not one who wished Louie “bon tog/age” with more seem- ing tenderness and sincerity than the man whom all the world believed to be her own father. mureJ. He drcwa long, quivering Eigh when she had left him. “I think it would be a very nice oppor- tunity for you _to go,” he said, more fliendly than he was apt to speak to her, “and since you are so anxious to go, I willingly give my consent. \Vllcn do the Brentwoods sail. Louie ?” “The second week in June, papa." “To remain how long ‘2" “About four months, paga.” “Very good. You can 0 a great deal of travelling in that time, and I have no doubt but that you will enjoy every moment of it. You shall have all the money you want, Louie. I believe young ladies of the present day have a decided weakness for \Vorth toilets and Parisian bonnets, and I shall place at your disposal a sum sufficiently large to enable you to indulge that weak- ness. The lovely face flushed with happiness. “Oh ! papa, you are so kind and good, and I thank you so very much,” Louie said, touched and made happy by her faith: 1"s nnwonted tenderness. “I am not at all surprised that the people love their beautiful Rhine,” murmured Louie Anthon to herself, looking down at the river which was glistening and gleaming in the bright sunshine of a hot August afternoon. “It; is such a beautiful river, and the coun- try about it is so lovely. I believe I would like to live here, or at least remain for some time, it seems so quiet and peaceful.” And then her attention was caught by the pic» turezqne dresses of two peasant women who Were walking slowly along up the shaded “It shall be as papa says ; if he is willing, then, Louie, I will say yes ‘.” Louie sprang to her feet. “I will go and ask him now.” she said gleefully. and in another instant the heavy portion: had fallen over the white-clad figure and Muriel was alone. He drew 2L long breath of satisfaction. Nothing would please him better than that the girl should take herself out of his sight. She was the bitter drop in his cup of happi- ness ; when she was not by, he could stifle the voice of conscience, crush down the bit- ter remembrance of his deadly sin. Géing nearer to him, standing with her hand resting upon the carved table in the centre of the room, Louie made known her request, finishing with, “And mamma says, if you are p rfectly willing that Ishould go, then she will give her consent.” It was very hard indeed to reslst the pleadâ€" ing expression upon the lovely upturned face, the sweet coaxing voice, and Muriel said, as she pressed her lips on the low,white forehead : “Then I should never marry him,” said the girl firmly, a little determined look set- tling about her mouth. “Nothing in this world would tempt me to become the wife ofamzm I did not; love with my Whole heart.” “But, mamma, you have not told me whether I can go abroad with the Brent‘ woods, and I promised. Aline lshould see her in the morning and give her your an- swer. 0h, mamma, please say yes.” In his luxuriously fitted-up smoking-room ma. room whose furnishings and decorations betrayed the highly cultured and aesthetic tastes of its owner. Arundel Anthon was sitting. The evening paper lay upon his knees, but he was not reading. \Vith his handsome head thrown back upon the cushions of his chair, he was watching she feathery rings of cigar smoke, which from time to time he blew from his lips, float away up toward the ceiling. A frown darkenelhis face as the sound of light, rapid footsteps fell upon his earsâ€"he knew to whom those light footsteps belonged. “\Vould to Heaven the girl was wheie I could never see her I” he muttered. “But for her I could crush down this horrible re- morse which of late has arisen so often with- in me. IILS eyes look Out at me from her face ; every gesfiure and posture of hers re- minds me of him. 1 shall never be able to rid myself of the idea. that through her â€"}L2'.s- childâ€"will punishment come upon me.” “Come in,” hesaid, in answer to the low, llulf-t-ilrid knock upon the door. "\Vhat is it ‘2” he asked coldly, as Louie stepped into the room. Muriel was rather unpleasantly surprised. She had never thoroughly analyzed Louie's nature; now for the first time she discovered that there was in it a. de th, and strength, and firmness such as she ad never thought of. “And yet, Louie, you might not Iovca man whom your father and I considered in ever respect suitable for you “You need not be afraid, mamnm, I do not think I am very impressionable. Any- way I should never marry any man unless both you and papa liked him, and gave your full and uncondinional consent. “I am very glad,” she murmured. “That is the chief reason Why I shrank from having you go to Europe With the Brentwoods ; travelling about from place to place as you would do, you would necessarily meet many strangm‘s, and you are so young, Louie, you have mm so little of the world, you do not know hmv much falsity and unfaith there is in it, how many black hearts are hidden un- der lul‘ exteriors, and I am so afraid you might i stow your love upon some one all unworthy of it.” ‘Amin I thank ou dear an m ” she mar g 7 I I ) C HAPTER XXI “Neither of us have 1138!: our htarts,” said Auriga, meyrily, at last. Ali, Aline Brentwood heart, very much sooner idea of. The mxt morning came bright, dear, and beautiful, and at quite an early hour they started for the Schafi'hausen falls. The B05< ton people proved a most agreeable add-tion 1:0 the party. They consisted of pater and matcrfamilias, their married daughter on!“ her husband, and two younger children, a girl about sixteen and-a young gent‘emau of one or two-and-twcnty, who from the very moment he was introduced to her, remained steadfastly at Louie’s side. They were all very enthusiaafiic over the fails, as well they might be, for the Rhine, at that place about three hundred feet wide, descends a height of more than seventy feet. ‘ After they had looked at and cxpatiutcd over tho falls to their liearts’ content, they strolled away in groups of two and threcm Louie and her deVUted friend wandering of? by themselves into the woods to look for ferns and wildflowers. Interested in their conversation, the two went deeper into the woods than they mpposed, until suddenly Louie discovered that she was a little fa.- tiguod, and sat, down upon a rock to rest. “But. 1 have not half. enoth ferns,” she said, as her companion, of whom to tell the truth, she was a. trifle weary, would have seated himself by her side, “And there are so many lovely 01123 around. here ;w0uld you mind getting me a. few more ?” “\Ve met some very nice people this after- noon, Louie,” she continued after a mo~ ment’s silence, “a. party from Boston, and we are all going down to the falls tomorrow morning. I am quite anxious to see those fallsâ€"I think it is lovely here in Switzer- land, don’t you, Louie?” And then the two girls fell into conversa- tion, talking about the various places they had visited, the things they had seen, the people they had met : talking and laughinv as only two young, carelessly happy gil' - friends can talk and laugh. The young Bostonmn would have much preferred to sit down beside her, for he conâ€" sidered her to be one of the prettiest and most agreeable girls he had ever met ; but in his case, “To llear was to obey.” “Mos: happy, I am sure,” he said, and the “most happy” was only one of the little deceits thch are practiced daily and hourly in socic‘y. Many a man who wears 'glossy boots shines. at the wrong extremity. “Is your headache hotter, Louie 1‘” she asked. “Yes? I am so glad, I guess it is just as well that you did not go with us, for, though we took a lovely walk, it was a long one, and it so warm this afternoon. Oh, I am so tired!” and Aline sank down upon the bed and lay there fannin‘g herself with her straw hut. “Don’tbrn'g',” laughe'l Louie, “you may lose yours, Aline, sooner than you think." That morning Louie, who had been out strolling about the town with Mr. Brent- wood and Aline, had gotten very tired, so tired that after dinner a dull headache had come on and she had remainzd athome while the others went for a walk, thinking that the rest and quiet would do more for her than any amount of medicine. For an hour or more she grit there in the open window watching the afternoon shadows beginning to fall upon the distant hills, and thinking dreamily, wondering if her mother at New- port was enjoying the beautiful summer (lays half as much as he was. She had not been ubit homesick ; the greater part of her life had been spent at l>0arding»sch00l, and she had not really been at home enough to make it seem strange or unnatural for her now to be away from it. Still, though she had never been very much with her, she loved her beautiful mother very dearly, and a. sudden longing to see her came over her as she sat there alone. One cannot help feel- ing a little lonely when one remembers that the great ocean rolls between them and illeir nearest and dearest ones. Her reverie was broken up by the entrance of Aline Brant- wood into the room, Aline, her beautiful dark face flushed with exercise, her dusky hair a little disordered by her walk, her wide-brimmed chip hat adorned with ,buneh- cs 01 edelweis. How much she had enjoyed itsâ€"this trip abroad, and not alone to her, but to the Brentwoods as well, had the trip so far been a most enjoyable one. The voyage across the Atlentic had been a charming one, the weather had been very favorable, not one of the party had suffered lrom sicknessâ€"the bane of ocean travelâ€"longer than :1 ‘BW hours. They had stopped in London and Paris long enough to get a. very fair idea of those great cities, had wandered through France and Germany visiting all the places most frequented by tourists, then into Switzer- land, where, after spending afeW days at ILtCl‘lflCllCl}, Lake Constance, and Zurich, they had come directly from the last men- tioned place to Schafflmusen, for Mr. Brent- wood, who had been there before, wanted them to see the famous falls of Schaflhausen, three miles below the town. They had only been there a. day, and in fortycight hours time expect_d to leave it. ' She was sittingin one 01' the open windows of her room in the little inn in the quaint Swiss town of Schafl'hausen, on the Rhine, looking out with that wondering ouriosixy which Americans cannot fail to feel when they visit for the first time the many quaint little towns scattered through Switzerland, and notice the odd customs and manners of their inhabitants. Faraway beyond the walls of the town stretched the wooded hiHs, and by turning her head Louie could see the old castle-«a veritable castle on the Rhine â€"which for so many years has overlooked the town : and over all the landscape fell the golden after- noon aud sunshine. “Just enough to let us know what real seasickness is," Louie had said laughinyly, to Aline Brentwood. “People who have never been across the water donot really know what sea-sickness ls, but we lfnow now, don’t we Aline “I‘d-0 nut believe they ever are,” she thought, “for they always look so content- ed and happy, as though they were pcx‘fcuL- 1y satisfied with life.” street ; and as she watched them, she fell to wondering whether the rosy face-d, stolid- looking peasants were ever sorrownt and “ham- (TO m: 005"“): GED.) was i0 lose her than shohad any Some statistics just issued by the (lovers- ment of Tasmania. are in’ heresting, as show- ing the increase )1] the use of agricultural machinery 111 the colony during 1881. Lil-st harvest the acreage of wheat reaped by ma- chinerywus 29,081, and by hand 22.671. Ten years ago only 2,389acrea were reaped by machinery, as against 60,051 reaped by hand. Lift and force pumps have increased to a very great extent, viz , from 15in 1874 to 175 in 1881 : and all other agricultural machines and appliances, with the single ex- ception of clod-crushers. ’l‘hus ehafilcutters, which in 18613 were (37, last year were 494. the number worked by steam being 4 and ‘28 respectively; cultivators were 43 in 1872 and 168 in 1881. Of com-crusher one was reported as being in the colony in 1872, but there were 126 last year. The use 01 hay~elovntorz has: fluctuated very consider- ably, but, on the whole, it has been 1' favour of the later years; while haywa (horse) increased from 103 to 22!), Hon. shoes, grilhhcrs, and seariliers were {531 in 1381, compared with 858 in 1872 ; subsoil ploughs 238 last year, against :28 in 187%â€" an increase of 743 per cent. Double~furrow poughs, 0t which there were none i0 1871’, and only 4 in 1873, increased to 4.50 in 1881, and in the latter year 11 treble-furrow ploughs were also returned. Reaping ma- chines increased in the ten years from 66 to 140; reapere and mowers combined, from 35 to 357 : strippers, from 2 to 9. The combined reaper and binder was introduced into the colony in 187980. The number then returned was :17, whereas in 138L232 as many as 130 were found to hein use. Canadian manufacturers should make 21 note of these fuctx. s only The Important-e of Rvadmg Before Sign int: Au amuaing anecdote reaches us from a villageiu file Indra et Loire, where a quar rel has been raging between the Mayor and the local achoolnmstcr. The latter was recently summoned to appear before the Prefect of the depaltment, to whom he com- plained offthre‘Mayor’s'negligcnce. , ,a_.D--w~. i In proof of this he showed an cffiuial re- port written by himself and containing the followinggassage: “\Vc have no case of hydropho i8. 01' madness to report, unless it be the Mayor and COI‘})OI'?1.thX1,“VhO are idiots and raving madman.” The Mayor signed and stamped the document without reading it, little dreamiz‘g that it would be used as evidence against himself with the Prefect. xavoul‘ 01 mm later years; while luywa‘k *' (horse) incruased from 103 to 22!), Home shoes, grubbcrs, and scafitiers were {531 i 1 “w . I QC! an“ 1,] A free baking school has been at work in St. John’s the last week, and was largely patx‘nnizad by the ladies. Miles Ixavanagh, who is an informer, swore ti at he drove the err on which Field’s assailants escaped. He is now in custody. Immediately after the Phomix Park murders liewas apprehended and dc- tained two days on suspicion of having driv- en the car on which the assassins ’JI Lord Frederick Cavendish and Mr. Burke escaped It is reported that six of the prisoners who were in the dock offered to become approvers, but up to the present time the authorities have accepted only one of them. who will he examined at the next hearing. It is said that there are three otherinforn‘r ers. The name of Poole, Bevine and Delaney are mentioned. The Detective Department is besieged with persons oilering to give in- formation. Several suspected 'persons left Dublin during the week. A detective is in pursuit of one important individual. The purchase of the revolver that Devine hml when Detective Cox was murdered will he proved ; also the purchase oi; knives found near the residence of one of the prisoners. Evidence will be given of the issuing of summonses in the handwriting of Joseph Mullet for meetings of the “centres.” The appearance ofthree of the men arraigned exactly corresponds with the description of the three murders of Lord Frederick Caven- dish and Mr. Burke. The Police intend making five more arrests. Mullet, the al~ leged leader of the assassination committee, is v. hunehhaek. The Crown is confident of success in the prosecution of t‘n; pl'i'i'illi‘i‘u'. Cnrley is one of the “centres.” Revelations Made by a Fenian Prison- er. DUBLIN, Jan. 25.â€"â€"Twcnty~one persons recently arxest: d here were before the Police Court charged with conspiracy to mur- der Government officers. The court -room was crowded. Great discrimination was exercised in the admission of citizens. There was a large crowd outside. During the progress of the hearing startling revelations were made. An informer swore thatseveral of the prisoners, including Mr. Carey, 6, member of the municipality, were present at a. Fenian meeting, where the informer was asked to iein the inner circle formed for the astassination of officers. The name of the informer is Farrell. He acknowledged haw- ing taken part in the attempt to assassinate a juror. He swore that one of the prisoners, named Hanlon, informed him that he had taken part in the attempt to murder Field; that Brady stabbed Field, and that Kelly also participated in the affair. Ferrell also testified that each Fenian contributed 3d. weekly to purchase arms; that the city had been marked into districts, and military inspections were held occasionally, at which most of the accused men were present. At one of these meetings, John Devoy, who said he came from America. presided. The organization, he said,had existed for several years. Farrell said picked men formed an assassination committee. They were ignov ant of each other. Daniel Curley gave him (Farrell) erevolver, and told him to stop Mr. Forster’s carriage opposite Ellis Quay, when Jim Kelly and Joe Brady would do the remainder. The plot failed through a mistake. Farrell identified Kelly, Brady, Curley, Maloney, Dwyer, and Boyle, all of whomwcre present in the prisoners’ dock as liming been present on Ellis Quay when the attempt was made. Curley was very much vexed at the failure. Farrell said that Brady. Kelly and Rankin, the last of whom is now in Limerick, followed Mr. li‘orster’s carriage in a cab on anoth- er oceasiOn, and that MacMahon, who was lately accidentally shot, was assisting by watching on foot. All the prisoners were remanded for a week. IRISH INFORMERS' STORIES. 1, ulVAl v: lurders of Lord Freder k Caven- Mr. Burke. The Police intend emore arrests. Mullet, the aL rof the assassination committee, _ y « ll\| Inch the assassins ’JI Lord Mid) and Mr. Burke escaped lat six of thc prisqners who dock offered to become up to the present; time the 2 accepted only one of them, \u4-owom Tasmania.