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James Wilson was of respectable family. He had been well educated, then articled to a firm of solicitors. Afterward he set up in practice at a. rising watering-place on the Bristol Channel, where. as :I have already stated; he became involved in some unfortu- nate building transachions. failing in conse- quence. He had married, whilst in prac- tice, the daughter of n well-to-do retired tradesman;but as sevoral members of his In five days’ time the agent sent me word that his report was readv. I had been anxi- ously sweating it, so hastened to hear what he had discovered. There was a good deal in it that was of no consequence whatever ; but the detective had done his duty in getting the fullest in- formation. Slftiug out all extraneous mat ter. I learned as follows : “Case ofdefz'alcatiofi, I éuppose 7" said the mm: olosipg his pope-book. I did not choose to take anyone into my confidence this time. I would get all the links together before I put the chain into other bands. ' “Then you will go to the place at which he originally lived, and find out all you can aboEt him. His connections, private life, etc. “Cartsinly, sir.” replied the agent, pro- ducing his note-book ; "we are rather slack jusLnow." The agent nodded. “Then you will ascertain his private ad- dress in London. and get all particulars you can of his history since he came to town. As soon as you know enough, write me, and I fiill call for ypuryepogt.” Then this fact was pretty well establish- ed ; the paper, Whoever wrote it. came from Wilson’s house. I saw clearly that my first proceeding was to ascertain every thing I could respecting his antecedents and private life. I looked up my letters of 1867, and found from them that Wilson had been re- commended to me by Forbes and Thwaites, of Bristol. I. firm of high standing. Having ascertained this much, I went tin search of a rivate inquiry agent. I hated the idea of fiaving to spy on one of my household. as it were, but the serious nature of the case gave me no option. “Can you attend to a bit of business for me 1" I said. "A few private inquiries I The heads of my instrluctions wére jotuteg down “Somethrng of the sort;" I replied, and wished him‘ gqod morning. “I wantyon to go to Bristol to-night. Inquire there of Messrs. Forbes and Thwaites solicitors. from what part of the world James Wilson came. He was bankrupt in 1866, I believe: and they were concerned.” want made." “It was one of the first things I did for on, before I had quite caught your style. remember, as we were very busy, I draft- ed it at home, and you altered a good deal of it before it was fair copied.” "Do you remember the circumstances un- der which you drew this up? I ask as there are several little things in it I should have worded differently.” With triambling hands I detached the slip of paper, opened my secretaire, and laid it side by side with the not: of warning. I had been deceived by no fancied resem- blance, the writing was the same, and so peculiar was the penmanship that I felt convinced that no chance could have pro duced these two specimens from different persons. Trne;the writing on the newly- fonnd paper was better and firmer than on the other ; but I compared letter for let- ter and found them exactly alike in their formation. The hand that wrote one wrote the other: and as the two slip; of paper lay before me I felt that the murderer of Roland Northwiok had had his day. Then, with professional instinct, I sat down to think calmly over my discovery. The paper which I had so unexpectedly found contain- ed what appeared to be a portion of Byron's “When we two parted.” Probably the writer was an admirer oflthe post, and had transcribed in for her own pleasure. The paper had been torn, lengthways, down the centre : so that only the first halves of the lines were left. But this was more than enoughâ€"I could have sworn to the identity of the writing had only two letters ap- peared. Now came the difficulty. How could I connect the two papers? What theory could I form 7 Here, through an extraordi- nary chance, was the clew starting from my very office. Here it had been lying for five years. New thatit was within my hands, whither would it lead 2 Could it be possible that Wilson was in any v ay mixed up in the affair! I shuddered at the thought, and felt inclined to dismiss it as preposter- ous, At first I even contemplated asking him point-blank whose writingjt might be on the back of the slip of paper he had used; but recognizmg the necess ty for extreme caution, I decided not to do so. Iendeavor- ed to thr0w my memory back to the time when Sir William's will was made. Looking through my old diaries, I found that about that date we had a. press of business in haud;but I could recollect nothing more than taking Sir William's instructions, and. afterward, seeing him execute the will. I felt I must endeavor to get some more in- formation belore I took any decisive steps ; so, pinning the two pieces of paper together I placed them in my pocket-book and sent for Mr. Wilson. I was quite composed when he entered, and running over the sheets of the draft, asked : Wilson look the paper in his hand, look- edfifi the date al‘nd‘reglied : 55 I bent this piece of paper back. to read the words concealed, I saw writing on the other side of it, and my heart stood still as I knew that the writing was identical with the writing of those words which had been stamped upon my brain since the day of Roland Norgbvyick's death. Some months after this cowl-nation with my extrat rdinary clerk, Sir William Jarvxs, an old client of mine, died. I we: summon. ed to attend his funeral, and 153 read the will altctwsrd. The day before I went down to his country-house, I thought it would be as well if I looked through the dralt of his will, in order to be familiar With its provisions. His box was brought in, and I soon put my hand upon the document I wanted. 1* was dated in 1867â€"the year Wilson came to Inaâ€"and the draft was in my clerk's handwriting. It was a volumin- ous,docnmei t, consisting of a good many sheets Of‘paper, joined together at the car- ner. To the front page was affixed a slip of white paper, bearing sundry memorandaâ€" also in Wilson’s handwritingâ€"suggesting, most likely, a. few alterations to be made if I approved of them. THE TRUTH (IF IT, Still if was not without relief I saw, upon entering my office :in the morning. my con- fidential clerk at his usual post. He saint ed me with his invariably calm politeness. For the life of me I could not return the greeting ; but. averting my face, hurried in- to my room, the entrance to which lay through his. I opened my letters in a. me- chanical way, in the present excited state of my mind giving little heed to their cantente. I could think only of one thingâ€"was I not wrong, after all? Could that quiet, self- possessed. gentle-spoken man. now sitting within a. few feet of me, be guilty of one of the fouleat and most dastardly crimes ever perpetrated? I began now almost to wish that my fear of the preceeding night had Tired as I was with the day’s work, I slept but little that night. I was drawing mental pictures of the paunful proceeding of no mormw. Then, betwwn sleeping and wakin , a wild thought took possession of me. I lsncied that for some reason or other WAJBOD had divined my suspicious, and that on the morrow he would be absent. So strongly did this idea impress me, that I actually rose, determined to go to the do» tective at once, reveal all I knew, and let the arrest be made at once, so that justice should not be defeated. Then, as my senses returned to me, I saw how utterly impossi- ble it was that Wilson could suspect any- thing, and' lying down once more. 1 re- solved to let matters follow in the train I had designed. Inspector S-barâ€"pe promised obedience to my instructions, so I left him to dream. no doubt, of the reward he might claim to II )râ€" IOW- I hesitated. Something restrained me from telling him to whom my suspicions pointed. It was not mercy ; but [wished to give Wilson one chance of explaining the thing which had led me to accuse him of the crime. “No,” I replied. “I cannot eVen tell you his name at this moment. I must manage matters in my own way. He will come to my office to-morrow, utterly unsuspecting. I will then point him out to you, and you can mke thehproper course.” ‘ “If you will be at my office at eleven o’clock precisely to-morrow morning, I will point out to you the man who murdered Roland Northwick." The inspector stated. “Tell me Where to find him," he said, “and the haudcufl's shall be on his wrists to- night." Late as the hour was when I reached Paddingtm. I drove straight to Inspector Sharpe’s house. Accustomed to surprises at all hours. the astute gentleman expressed no as1onishment at seeing me, but awaited patiently any communication I had to make for his benefit. Yet for once. at least, in the course of his checkered career I believe he was taken aback. With all my lingering doubtsâ€"with all the hopes! chenshed as to Wilson’s inno- cence dispelled, I hastened back to town, nerving myself to perform a. harrowing duty the next dayâ€"the duty of denouncing as the murderer of Roland Northwwk the man who for eight years had been my constant companion and trusted associate in busi- ness. This identification must be my first task. I determined to make no delay. The thought that for years I had been in daily contact and communication with the cold- blooded murderer of one of mv dearest friends was to me horrible. With this dreadful suspicion hanging over him, I felt it almost impossible to breath the same air with \Vilson. much less to transact my usual business matters with him. Ifelt that I might betray myself in his presence, and, with the acute suspicion which such a crime must engender, he would guess what was pas-sin through my mind, and fly from jus- tice. left tue oflice, stating that I should not return that day, and the next morning sent Wilson a letter, saying that an urgent private matter had called me into the coun- try. The link that joined the two others I must have before proceeding any further. I knew the name oi the church in which Wilson had been marriel ; the object of my journey was to wait it. I inspected tne register of marriages, and, knowing the date of the ceremony, had but little difficulty in lighting on the signatures of Adelaide Fletcher and James Wilson, The resem- blance in the writing here was even closer to the warning message than that of the lines of poetry I hai so fortunately found. Perhaps, from the emotion natural to a young girl when signing her maiden name for the last time, the strokes were trema- lous, even as from another cause they were iremulous in those fatal words that now lay side by side with the bride’s signatureâ€" "My husband knows alL I couldn’t help it. Beware l" Although I had gained little direct evi- dence, my suspicions gathered strength. Impossible as the idea seemed, the testimo- ny of the handwriting proclaimed that James Wilson must in some way be connect- ed with the perpetrator of the foul crime. At least, he would be able to identify the writer of the message. My agent had ascer- tained that his wife bed died on February 22.1, l1870â€"tw0 days after the blow was struck. As I thought the matter over, the fact of Wilson not having mentioned his wife's death at the time, and his misleading words in me on a. recent occasion, which had medeme conclude he was unmarried,itended to make it appear possible that the writer of the warning note was Mrs. Wilson herself. Even the tremulous nature of the hand- writing m uld be accounted for; as she must have been at that moment lying on her death-bed. How Rfland Northwiok be- came entangled with James Wilson’s wife was a. matter of little consequence now. Detective skill must unravel all that, and no doubt drag a. painful scandal to light. For me, at present, it was suflici‘nt to know that could I prove the writer of these two papers lying l1] my pocket to be James Wil- son’s wire, I had enough ground to justify his arrest as the murderer. “And,” added my informant, with a lurk- ing smile, "I find that since he has been in London he held the post of confidential clerk to Mr. Maitland, solicitor, of Bedford Row. ” “Thank you,” said Mr. Mait‘and. "I am much obliged to you. It has been pamful to me to institute these inquiries, but I was bound to set my mind at rest about Mr. Wllson. " wife's family lost considerablo sums of moneylby his failure, they became complete- ly estranged. Wilson cams to London in 1867. taking lodgings at Cvmlsea. His wife died on February Q‘an, 1870. They were apparentlv a happy and much attached couple. They had no children. and since her death Wilson had continued to occupy the same rooms. ever. As, tremblmg at death, and the judgment she feared after that death. she sobbed out her shame to me. praying for my forgiveness, so that the God whom she dreaded might, perhaps, forgive her, then I laid my lips beside her ear and whisper. ed: ; He smiled faintly, almost oontemptuonsly. He might really have been an uninterested i spectator of the scene. He began to speak, and. in a moment, his whole manner chang- ‘ ed. He was transfigured, and I knew that at last I was face to face with the true man. His brows contracted, his deep-set eyes burned with fierce light, his cheek flushed, and the veins on his forehead stood out with emotion. His speech was rapid, and his language eloquent. His gestulation was striking; his thin, lithe fingers clasped each other, or were extended to give due influ- ence to his powerful words; and as I watch- ed his actions and listened to his words, I comprehended that under the cold surface of reserve. under that well-fitting mask of suave politeness, beat a heart shaken by the strongest passions and capable of the deep- est feeling. As I stood face to face with him, I could scarcely reilize that this was the same man whom I had seen daily for eight years. v “I will be brief, Mr. Maitland," he said, “I killed Roland Northwiek because he se- duced my wife. I had loved her as a boy â€"1 loved and married her as a men. If I had no wealth to give, I gave her such love as man has never yet given woman. I be- lieved her to be the most pure, as well as the most beautiful. of Women. To me she was simply my life. Every hope, every thought of mine was for her happiness. Oh, how I leved that woman I loved her, wor- shipped her, trusted her, slaved for her 1 And that night when, stricken with the ill- uses which she knew w0uld be fatal. when I hung over her pillow and tended her with loving hands, she whispered that cursed confession to me, my life was at an end for ever. As, trembling at death, and the judgment she feared after that death. she .Yonr knowledge 0! common law cannot be very great. Mr. M-iuund, if you think that any English Jury will convicts man upon the fancied resemblance between two scraps of writirg. But your deductions are better than your lawâ€"I did kill Roland Northwiok.” “Villain ! Ruffian!" “Yea,” continued this strange man, “ I killed himâ€"I willtell you why I killed himâ€"that is, if you care to [when to the tale, and if there is time before the war rant arrives. " "The information will be sworn at eleven o’clock,” I stnmmered; marveling at his ex. traordinary composure, and by it compelled to give him an answer to his question. “Till then." I added, “I shall not lose sight of you for an instant.” The audacity of this full confession, spoken as if he were mentioning an Incident in his career of little moment, so smpriaed me that 1 could only state at him and ejacu- late : Wilson sat silent for some time. I was on the alert, expecting that my accusation would be the signal for an attempt to es- cnpe. But nothing seemed further from his thoughts. After a while he raised his eyes to mine, and said quietly. “The day before he WM killed, Roland Northwick received a letter of warning from a. womanâ€"a woman whose husband be bad doubtless Wronged. Till a. few days ago her name was unknown. Now, from the similarity of the curious writing to that of another specimen which I have ascertained was written by your wife, I know that the warning was sent by her, James Wilson. you wretched murderer! Your hour has come I I have already denounced you. and in a short time the oflicers wxll be here.” “You must be mad, Mr. Maitland. to make men an accusatiOnâ€"against me. of all men in the world? Without troubling to deny it, I ask you. as a lawyer and a man of business. what possible motive couigl I have for committing guch a crime ?" Wilson race. He was perfectly calm, and speaking in his usual quiet; voice, said : "And." I concluded, "from certah: fact; which have come to my knowledge. I have decided that you, even if you did not strike the blow yourself must know the murderer." As I spoke the last words he knew what was comingâ€"I could see it in the man‘s face “I find." I éonfiuued, "thaf; ydur wife died on the 2271 of Februaryâ€"two days after the murder of Roland Northwick." Wilson, whose acuteness told him that I did not maka this assertion with the primary object of reproaching him for c‘mcealing the true state of his domestic affairs from me, made 3 simple gesture of Vassent. Many atimz afterward. in cold blood, I have wondered at my folly at thus. of my own free will, cooping myself up with a. min whom I sunpected to be a. murderer ; a man who might have made preparations against a surprise of this manure, and to whom my life might be as nothing. But I was the stronger, although the older, man of the two. Wilson. althounh tall, was nlim, almost to thinness, and I was certain that ina band-to-banrl struggle I could overpower him. I felt disgust and horror at my companion, but not fear. He looked at me inquiringly._ “Mr. Wilsoh," I naid, “some time ago you led me to understand you were unmar- riad. I have since mam-mined that your wife died in Februarv. 1870 " I man and walked to the ofl‘ice door. locked it, and placed the key in my pocket. Then I resumed my seat: and motioned Wilson to one near me. My unusual pro. ceedinga, I fancied, troubled himâ€"he turn- ed a shade paler if that were possible, but he_aaid nothing. - But the'ti'me for hesitation and uncertain- ty was gone by. In an hour Sharpe would be here, eager for his pray: and until he came I determined that Mr. James Wnlaon shguld not bq a m9_me_n§ outpf mVAsight. I shuddered as he spoke; but he stood there with his impassable exteriorâ€"his mind. evidently- bent only on business-At sez med absurd to suppose that this was the being who, with hellish vengeance in his heart, crept up the staircase to Roland's bedroom ; that those White fingers, holding now a. harmless pen, were the Rama which closed round the handle of lhe knife that pigced my poor frigudjs bosom. "Ifuyiwu are at liberty nowI Mr. Maitland. there are several things about which I shgulrfl like to consglt youg” In afew mxnutes~the door of my office opened and Wilson entered. H had a. num- ber of papersin his hand, and running them thropgh. said : been well founded. and his flight had given me_ assuArance of his gqilt. _ “The reason of my rash act is extensive defalcatious, which, sooner or later, you must d‘scover.” The letter he had just penned was ad. dressed to me. It: contained only these words : Before I could call tor assistance, In. specter Sharpe, who was waiting outside.; burst open the door and rushed to the dying man. He sighed once. and then we knew that all was over with him. “ I have been thinking, Mr. Maitland.” he said in his gentle voice. “that, after all, I should like to escape the gallows. As there are only two ways of escapingâ€"one over yourlbody. and anotherâ€"I choose that other one.’ And before I could comprehend the hid- den meaningof his words] heard the loud report of a pistol, and James Wilson fol! forward across my office-table, deluging it and all it held with his heart's blood. The :minutes stole Du, surely it must now be eleven o'clock. I would have looked at my watch, but a. kind of feeling of deli- cacy restrained me I waited some time longer and then glanced at Wilson. I was sitting nearest the door. with the idea. of cutting 011' any att‘ mpted escaps. Wilson was in my usual sent at the table which was 1i tsred with letters and legal documents. Thi table, I should add, was between us. A be finished his letter he took up a brief and commenced perusing it. Even at this aw» ful moment he appeared to be interested only in the work which had done so well for so many years. His left hand held the sheet he was perusing near his eyes; the remem- der of the document hung down. hiding his right hand as Well as the greater portion of his body. As I sat waiting until the hon sounded from the neighboring church towerr and wondering at the self-command dla‘ plsved by the remorseless murderer, he look‘ ed across and met my gaze. There was an expression in his eyes, which I had never before noticed there. His letter was i. very short one. He placed itin an envelope, laying it on the table with the address downward. I told him he was at liberty to write what he liked; but I should not quit him. He slightly shrugged his shoulders, and aying. "As you will,” took a. sheet of paper and commenced writing. “I see that my time is short.” he said. "I have one letter I wish to write before the haudcufin are on my wrists. Would it: be asking too great a. tavor if I requested you to leave me alone for a few minutes I” I thanked him mentally for his considera~ tion, but said nothing. I was determined to to speak no more. It was too painful, and I longed for Sharpe to arrive and terminate the interview. Wilson.“ though reading my thoughts, glan_oed at Ms watcht I felt it was too horrible to hear this man discussing his crime and approaching a shameful end as coolly as though he were speaking of some client’s ordinary business matters. “Now you see. Mr. Maitland.” he contin- ued, “why I refused your kind 0391- of a partnership. It will matter very little your clerk being warranted for murder ; but had I been your partner it would not have im- proved fihe standing of your firm." “I tell you, Mr. Maitland. :I neither felt nor feel remorse regret. or even wish to evadejuatice. My life,’asI understand life, ended. I simply waited, never doubting but all would some day be known." “But how could you meet me? How could you go about your business as usual, with th_l_s awful_cri_n}a o_n ygur_con§cjeuce ?'f “Simply by not trying to escape it- I cared little whetherI was discovered or not. Some strange instinct induced me to take the watch and chain, which now lies a shape less mass. buried in one 001-: at of the cellar beneath this house. I only wanted access to the room. Having done what I had re- solved to do, it mattered little whether I came out again or not. By some strange chance no one saw me ; so I walked down the stairs and reached the office as usual. My glove was on my hand when I struck the blow. It was stained with blood, so I burnt it. That was all. Had I been arrested that dayâ€"as, indeed, I fully expected to have beenâ€"I should have made no defense paying the penalty of my act as carelessly as I shall now " At the inquest ‘held on my ill-fated clerk I "‘But how could you avoid detection?" I asked. In spite of my horror and disgust, I could not help feeling a certain amount of curios- ity._ Wilsofi had again seated himself, and re sumed his usual mask. His recent excite» ment had vanished. and left’ no trace. His ordinary quiet smile passed over his feat- urea. "Intellectual men with my views,” he said. “trouble little about the future, and fear it less." “I reached home in the evening. and lean- ing over my dying wife whispered: “He i0 dead-I forgive on now." "She spoke no more. be next day she dien, and that look of horror which settled on her face when I Whispered those words of forgivenness never left it." He was silent. ‘ You wretched man!" I cried. "Do you feel no remorse?" "I feel no remorse. M y life became a blank. Lwe passed out of it with me wife’s death. Hate left it When I drove that knife through her aeducer's heart. Since then I have cared nothing for lifeâ€"nothing for death." "But the hereafterâ€"beyond death!" I criirj,rapprallqd by‘ such callounneas. v "To-morrow,”I whispered to my wife, who now lay almost speechless and innuen- ibleâ€"Bnd ‘ to-morrow ’ it was! You know the rest. ' “Had you ever loved awommn as I loved her. you would pity even whilst condemn- ing me for what you call the crime. I cared not which was to blame. the man or the wo- man; but I said. ‘ That man shall die,’ The details of their intrigue were of limle inter- ent They hai first met outside this verv office, where she would frequently wait t» accompany me home. How their acquaint- ance ripened. or what arts be used, I know not. She was a. beautiful woman, and he was a gallant handsome young man. Yet the day has been when I could have whown as gay and gallant a front as M.- Roland Northwickl He had made an end of my llfe, and his owa should pay forfeit. “The next morning Iwaq outside his house, but found no mean! of gaining m entrance, I knew all his habit; well, and several times had been to his rooms on busi- ness. “ ‘Wben I have killed him, I will forgive you._Npt till then_.' The East Indians are naturally free hen - ed carvers. Long before the Ceristian e the H ndoos beautified the interiors of their temples and homes With the most intricate work of the kind. The facility of carving ' has not leil them, and a block of teak wood under their chisela soon became the bed of the most beautiful traceries and reproduces the flora of the East in all its variety of forms. The Oriental wood carvers in one respect are unequaledâ€"they have original- ity of conception united with :3 power of ex- ecutiOn which is wonderful. They receive simply the suggestions of the artists on draughting paper with none of the hundred minutiae of background supports and the like. which are necessary to the workmen here. There they in truth use their chisels ea brushes, for their hands are firm. They are acquainted simply With the ides. which is conveyed, and with one or two scoops of the chisel a lily or a passion flower or a pomegranate lies imbediled in the wood as though it had been waiting simply to be picked and enjoined. But while they are unsurpassed in what is known as emotional carving they are ata loss at the broad sweeps which are required in the decoration of large apartments or halls.â€"~[N. Y. Commercial Advertiser. It seems like the irony of fate when milkman gets drowned in his own well. “A little Virginian climbed up the steps like a little pea squirrel; she was just“ frisky; her hair a: black, bushy and abund- Joaquin Miller, the poet and novelist, has been down in the VVesh Vitamin mountains and he writes to the New York Star: Moltke has recorded his opinion that be- cause in luture the des‘ractive fire of artill- ery will necessitate a scattered formation, the role of cavalry will be most important. :‘rreater skill will no doubt be required in handling it so as to bring it into action de- cisively at the critical moment. cito parare victoriam, for nnly by rapidity in manoeuvr- ing can the effect of the breecl'losder be paralyzed. History proves that Without cavalry a Victory :5 mrely brilliant. If cavalry is beaten, according to Montecucu- li, the battle is entirely lost; if, on the other hand, it is victorious, the Victor-yin cimplete. From the day when Hasdruba} destroyed the Roman host at Cannae, until that on which, 2 000 years afterward, the British squadrons, chewing the flanks of the old guard at Waterloo, “prevented all rallying” after the annihilation of the French cavalry, this axiom has been true. In the last great war cavalry on both side were on several occasions noblv sacrificed in order to gain time for the infantry, or in heroic effort to avert disasters already irre- parable, but neither in the "death rides” of Worth or Rejonwlle, or in the terrible- slaughter of Sedan, were the losses as hea as those incurred by cavalrv in the days of muzzle-loaders. That the effect of the fire of modern weapons. requiring as they do in their use considerable skill and a correct judgment of distance, would be very des- tructive to cavalry moving rapidly outside the zone of 400 yards remains to be proved. In a trial which took place in India between 4 Gardner guns and a. detachment of 60 picked shots file-firing at 6 stationary tar- gets at 585 yards, the distance being un- known, the latttr made only 24 hits out of 411 rounds, and at 900 yards volley-firing, the distance being known, only 36 hits out of 630 rounds. The Gardner guns were even less successful, a result highly encour- aging to cavalryâ€"[The Fortnightly Re- view. Among the militu-y nations of the Con- tinent it in reconn zed that, so far from the time for the efficacious employment of cav- alry either on the battlefield or in enter- prises egainet the flanks or met of an enemy being past, a glorious future is dawning for that arm, and that opportunities will arise when well disciplined. well-triined. and well-commanded cavalry may, through its power of securing for itself comparative immunity lrom the danger! to which other arms are in a higher r tm exposed. ttke a l‘ad'mg par: in the confl ct and perhaps de- cide the fate of a campaign. Among other high authmratiea, Field-Marshall Count I never looked for any defalcations. well knowing that none would be found. Th& detective, no doubt, formed his own conclu- aious as to the identity of the man he came to arrest, fer he asked ma nothingmore about him; but Iâ€"aud I onlyâ€"knew the whole truth Why Rfllwd Nflrthwick was murdnred, and why James \Vilsnn shot hims~ If in my office. And the truth is the nmranive above written. had to appear. I stated truthfully enough, that our conversation that morning “‘1 bern upon a matter of business which he conduCTed much to my divsatzsfaution. he Iemer which I prnduced apparently explain- ed all. Tue verdict wasâ€"“Suicide Wmlst in an unsound state of mind." Oriental Wood Carvers. A Little Virginia Girl. European Cavalry. pl ‘”<->«¢ TEE END-