The Stourbridge Observer, Cradley Heath, Halesowen & District Chronicle.
Stourbridge, West Midlands, England, 1886-08-21 00:00:00

THE MARKETS.

MARK-LANE.
l
The grain trade at Mark lane has been firm. 'D.?.
York market is strong, and the weather is inditle
hence the sLeady :aspect. The quantity of honic-gS
wheat disposed of in the leading markets of Engi
Wales during the that .9 weeks of the season were
qrs., against 2,7r35,038 qrs. last season, the average ))
being 80s 9d against 33s 2d per qr. Barley 2,;.•22,1%)
agalust 2,854,1,93 qrs., average 27s 9d against 305
and oats 357,618 against 402,821 qrs.. at an averag,
193 5d against 20s 9d per qr. English wheat wa.,5 ,
firm, and was about Is per qr. dearer on the week. lolt
wheat was firm, with the tendency of prices again°,
buyer. Flour was firm sad quite as dear. Barley ^;
steady trale, prices throughout being well supP°'
Oats realised full prices, with a fair inquiry. Mail°,
steady in value and demand. Beans and peas WO'
with a fair demand. The exports of grain, &c.,
.Louaon last week were: Wheat, 2575 ; barley, 4; malt..:
oats, 29 ; linseed, 1009 ; rapeseed, 533; canaryeeed,
hempseed, 34; sundry, 238 qrs; and flour, 1794 cwt.

METROPOLITAN CATTLE MA.RKET.
The total imports of foreign stock into London last 7
Mounted to 17,356 head. In the corresponding perio46
year we received 10,263 ; in 1884, 11,294; in 1863, ?'1
in 1882, 20,W9 ; in 1881, 15,041; us 1880, 21,966; 19
23.109; in 1878, 21,737 ; and in 1877, 18,619 head.
Liverpool were received 609 beast§ from Din och,
beasts and 1688 sheep from Montreal, and 272 beasts 4
New York; and at Southampton, 64 beasts from J`•
and Guernsey. The cattle trade was wanting in au]
tion.. Supplies offering were about the averse
sufficient for the cemand, which was at no time active
fair number of beasts was on sale, the quantity and. .
clition being about the average. A depressed maricev 1
vail,d throughout, and prices were distinctly weaker ,
choicest Scots and crosses did not make more than
to
more
decidedlOel per
bireedsstohavehuenxghibliieated;
mi
band, and prices throughout ruled in buyers' favour.
supplies of sheep were in the pens. A 'dull market %1
vailed throughout, and prig:es were drooping. Tiv,
Downs and half-breds made 5s 10d to Os per Slhn
were fat at 5s 6d to 6S 60 per 81b. Calves and pigB.,
quiet on former terms. The following are the prices: I.
• 1
and inferior beasts, 3s 2d to 4s Od. ; second quality 1A
4s 00 to 4s 6d ; prime largo oxen, 4s Cal to 48 8d
Scots, &c., 4s 100 to Od ; coarse and inferior sheep, .
to 48 64 ; second quality ditto, 4s 0d to Is ; prime CO
vroolled ditto, Is 60 to 5s 8d; prime south,,
ditto, Is 8d to 6s; lambs, Is 6d to 6s 60 1
coarse calves, Is 2d to 4s Od ; prime small ditto,
to 5s Od; large hogs, 2s 60 to 3s ; neat small por,;
3s 80 to 4s 40, per 131 b to sink the offal.
supply: Beasts, 3160; sheep and lambs, 9420
33); pigs, 0; ranch cows, 30. Foreign: Beasts, 790
and lambs, 2220; calves, 0. From the Midland,
and Western Counties we received 2160 bets;
Norfolk, Suffolk, and Essex, 200; from Ireland, 250
from Canada, 610 beasts.
METROPOLITAN MEAT MARKET. t,
A short supply was on sale, but the demand
exceedingly small, clearance could not be
firm, effecte.d. b
trade was generally bad, and prices less rm. Inferlo`.. di
2s 4d to t's Od ; middling ditto, 3s Od to 3s 8d ; prima_.° eri
38 Sd to 4s Oel ; Scotch ditto, 4s Od to 4a 40 ; 1";:rt
(Liverpool killed), 3s Sd to 3s 100 ; ditto hindqu,
3s Pd to 4s ed ; ditto forequarters, 2s 40 to 25
English, 3s 40 to .1s 8d ; ditto, Dutch, 2s sel to
inferior mutton, 2s SO to Is 40; middling ditto, os
4s id; prime ditto, 4s 4d to Is Od; Scotch ditto.
58 40; New Zealand ditto, 28 80 to rs 00: lap-11).
to 5s 40; large pork, 2s Sel to 3s 40; small (IMO,
to 4s Od -per 818. by the earcase.

FISH. 4,1
A moderate supply, with a quiet trade. Prices
is 2d to is 4d; slips, 8d to 10d; salmon, is Od 6,
gril3o, la ; tnrbot, 8d to 10c1; halibut, Bd to ; e
8d; crimped skate, 4d to Pd: roker, 2d to 3d; 001,4 e.
3,1 to 4d; hake, 4d to 6d; fresh haddock, 2d to I'A—in
10d to is; cod, 3d to 4d; glirnet, 4d; lemon 501e5.7.., to
plaice, 3d to 4d per lb; oysters, 6d to 2s; whiting,`"ao
fresh 'eerring, 6d to 3d; bloaters, 9d to 2s per 10
mackerel, 2d to 4d; crayfish, is to 3s; smoked 11-3,
r.
id to 3d; crabs, 6d to 2s; and lobsters, is to Zs

POTATO.
fair"
There w,s a large supply of potatoes on offer, A
was prevailed at the annexed rates: Essex regen96
ills; r ssex shaws, 70s to 8s; early roses, 70°1100
Jersey kidneys, 100 s to 120 s; Jersey flukes, 1005
ton.

LALL RIGHTS RESERVED./
THE HEIRESS

ATHERSTONE GRANGE.

BY THE AUTHOR OF
4s Allan Thornton," "Effie Baird," "Almost
Criminal," " Leonora's Legacy," 4-0.

I

CHAPTER XXIV.
NEWS FROM ENGLAND.
I had a message to send her,
To her whom my soul loved best.
—ADELAIDE PROCTOR.
MRS. DALTON was whispering and muttering to her-
self as she read the placard, and started visibly when
Allan Temple addressed her.
"It is a strange thing—a very strange thing, is it
not ?" she said.
"Very."
"They won't find him, Mr. Temple."
"What makes you think so ?" he asked, regarding
her with keen scrutiny.
"Because he stayed behind of his own accord from
some motive. Ho does not want to be found, depend
,upon it."
"Oh, you take that view of the case, do you ?"
"What other view is there to take? People do not
disappear in broad daylight from off the face of the
earth, and leave no trace nowadays. We live in
civilised times, Mr. Temple. There are no dungeons
and oublietes in our houses for obnoxious acquaintance
in these times."
"I am not so sure of that. Does it not strike you
that there may have been foul play in this business—
that this young man may have been murdered out
here?"
" Murdered!"
Her face was white, and working, as she gasped
out the word, but she seemed to recover her lost
composure again in a moment, and went on with the
utmost calmness:
"Such an idea never occurred to me, certainly; the
absence of all motives make it so very improbable.
The young man was quite a stranger here. Why
should anyone want to murder him? I don't suppose
he had anything of value with him to tempt a common
thief."
"No: the motive WS a deeper one than theft, if
such a thing has happened to him. I think I shall
know sometime, Mrs. Dalton."
"You think you shall know— why ?"
"I have a presentiment that way, I suppose," he
answered. Somehow he could not tell her that
Graham Carson was alive and in the flesh, at his
father's house; he felt that there was a mystery con-
nected with it, and that this woman and her house
had something to do with it. He coud not tell what
put the idea in his head, but there it was, and the
more he tried to scout it, the more firmly it seemed
to fix itself.
"I must wait and watch," he thought, "and watch
her too. lam glad the Psyche has arrived safely," he
went on aloud. "Of course this notice is a proof that
she has. I wonder I have not had a telegram. Beryl
promised that the first money she spent on English
ground should be in sending me the news of her
arrival."
"Miss Atherstone has kept her word," Mrs. Dalton
said, with a smile of evil triumph lighting up her pale
face. "She has altered the destination of her mes-
sage, that's all."
"I do not understand. Who has had her mes-
sage."
"I have."
" You Y"
"Just so."
"And no word for me?'
"Not one."
Allan Temple put his hand to his forebeadand tried
to think. What could it mean? No word to him
when she wrote, in the midst of her trouble, at sea.
No word now that she had landed safely at her
journey's end. Had her money turned her head, and
made her thoughtless and selfish? He could not think

it, and yet it all seemed so strange.
"You look astonished, Mr. Temple," Mrs. Dalton
said, presently.
"I am astonished and grieved more than I can tell
you."
"Why?"
"Because I am convinced that there is something
more in this than appears on the surface—some
tampering with her letters or with he."
"I think you are talking a little wildly," she re-
plied, in her most cutting tones. "You seem to
forget there has been no time for any letters to be
tampered with; and the telegram I have received
you can see for yourself if you will walk as far as my
house. If you have any suspicions of me they are
hardly to your credit, young sir.'
" I beg your pardon. I did not mean to insinuate
anything of the kind. I was so surprised, that was
all."
"I didn't see anything very surprising, in Miss
Atherstone having sent me a message. Her mother
died in my house, and the young lady was pleased to
consider me as her friend. Mv granddaughter died
--while on a voyage with her. She loved my Ursula,
and that makes a still closer link between us. She
wonld be ungrateful to forget me."
She spoke though in a harsh, constrained tone, as
If she was exercising—as, indeed, she was—a strong
command over herself; and he made up his mind to
go home with her and see the telegram.
It was only few words from " Beryl Atherstone
to Angela Dalton," announcing her safe arrival, and
that she wai well; that was all.
"You will be writing to Miss Atherstone, I sup-
pose," Allan said.
"I am going to write to-night; there is a mail to-
morrow."
" You will give her my love, if ysu please, and say
all I have to say to her is Semper Fidelis.' "
Will you not write yourself?"
"Not to Miss Atherstoue, the heiress, until I am sure
my letter would be welcome," said the young man,
turning his head to hide a quiver of the lip he could
not repress. "If she were a struggling actress still,
parted from me by some chance of business or duty,
the mail should carry as much love to her from my
pen as my heart can pour out. Things are very dif-
ferent between us now, Mrs. Dalton, from nhat they
were once."
"And you'd better let well alone, and be content
to have them different,' said Mrs. Dalton, as she
watched him walk away. " You'll find Beyrl Atherstone
is no mate for an actor now. So he thinks somebody
has murdered that Mr. Carson, does he? Is he going
to get up a search for him, I wonder. I wish him
success if he does, with all my heart; but I think he'll
have further to seek than he bargained for."
When he was out of sight, she sat down and wrote
a letter to Miss Beryl Atherstone, thanking her for her
kindness in thinking of her. She wrote:
"I am very grateful to you. I cannot tell you how
cheering it was to me in my loneliness here to feel
that I was so kindly remembered. I thought, when
my poor Ursula went away that my heart would break.
I have known bitter sorrow in hearing of her death.
My heart seems to turn to you now she is gone, as
•though you were my own; and whenever you can
spare time, in the midst of your new friends and many
engagements, I shall be very thankful for a line from
you. I need not till you how amazed I was to find
that Mr. Carson had not sailed with you. How
lonely your voyage must have been! There are bills
on the walls here, just put up, offering a large
reward for him. I don't fancy he will be found, some-
how, as it is three months since he disappeared, by
all accounts. Mr. Allan Temple has called on me two
or three times. He seems a very inquisitive, over-
bearing young man. lam afraid you may find him
troublesome. You must forgive me if I run on about
things which don't concern me; but Miss Atherstone
of Atherstone 'Grange, and Miss Atherstone of the T.
R. Melbourne, are two very different people. Any
little love passages might be easily ignored, if you
wished it to be so. He seemed very much hurt at
receiving no message from you— says he was promised
a telegram directly you landed. I was to give you
his love, and add the words Semper Fidelis '—he said
you would understand. I think it is quite possible
we may meet again. Ursula's death has so unsettled
me that I think I shall leave Melbourne. If I come to
England, will you permit me to call upon you? You
need not fear my attempting to intrude upon you, or
presume upon our forcnsr acquaintance. I shall
never forget the difference in position between you,
my dear Miss Atherstone, and
"Yours truly and affectionately,
"ANGELA DALTON.
"Miss Atherstone may show that letter to all the
fine relations she has in the world," the old woman
said as she folded it up. " They will only think the
better of her for kindness to me, and believe that
an old woman can be grateful for a girl's goodness."
Another letter went to England by the same mail,
of which Angela Dalton little dreamed. A letter from
Allan Temple, with the intelligence that Graham Carson
was alive.
The young actor went home much perplexed in
spirit—he wanted to keep the secret he held as long
as he could, in the hope that the terrible doubts that
worried him might be set at rest by one sensible
word from the sufferer's lips, yet he knew at the same
time that he ought to send to England and relieve the
suspense that the friends of Graham Carson must be


-in.
"You had better go to the police at once," his
father said when he heard of the handbills which were
out.

" I'm not so sure of that, daddy."
"Why not ?"
"We might be accused of anspiracy.”
"How ?"
"Trying to obtain money under false pretences.
Look here, dad—it's a queer affair altogether. Iknow
•the poor fellow—so do you; but I don't suppose there
are a dozen people in the place that have ever seen or
heard of him besides ourselves; his own mother
wouldn't know him now, if he has one. I think the
best plan would be for me to communicate direci,ly
with his friends. If ever he comes to himself, they
will understand our keeping him as we have done; if
not the doctor will bear us out that he has had no
harm at our hands::
"It's a miserable business, Allen. Shall yfu tele-

graph ?"'
4 So, write—it will give us more time to think."
" Be is quite well, and I begin to have hope that his
ining3 Will gain strength as well as his both-. I shall

go into his room to write. .1 teruk toe sight of Loin
will nerve me to tell the story better."
Allan Temple was right when he said that Graham
Carson's own mother would not know him; the pain-
ful vacancy of a mind quite blank, and the pallor of
his recent illness, had worked such an alteration in
him that Allan Temple was almost inclined to doubt
his identity himself sometimes. If it had not been
for the ceaseless babble about England, and people
there with which the name of Atherstone somehow
mingled, he would have come to seriously doubt
whether the man he had saved and succoured were
really the young English lawyer or not.
Be sat down, as he intended, by his side, and wrote
to the Rev. Norton Atherstone a minute account of
all that had passed, and a description of the finding ot
Graham Carson, and his subsequent illness. "I write
to you, sir," he said, "feeling fearful that what I have
said may be too great a shock to Mr. Carson, sen. I
cannot feel that I am to blame in not having written
before, because I have been daily hoping to be able to
explain what has happened to the unfortunate young
gentleman. .1 still hope, for I think I see signs r:f. some
little return' of intelligence. That there has been
treachery and foul play lam sure. The note which
summoned him ashore from the Psyche purported to
have come from his father, who, he said, had followed
him out on pre3sing business. I did not think any-
one knew this but myself; and in the hurry and an-
noyance of seeing Miss Atherstone start on such a
voyage with only her maid, or companion rather, for
Miss Rhodes was hardly a servant, I do not think I
mentioned to her who had summoned her escort
away. May I beg for your earliest instructions how
to act, and that you will assure Mr. Carson, sen., that
everything is being done for his son that science and
skill can do, and that nothing is spared that can con-
duce to his comfort. I hardly know why I make
such a request, but I should feel thankful if you would
not let Miss Atherstone know anything about this
matter at present. My mind is full of torturing
doubts and anxieties regarding her., and I think it
might be better if she were not told till she sees Mr.
Carson alone once more."

"What on earth made you write such a thing as
that, my boy ?" asked the elder Mr. Temple, when he
had read his son's letter. "Why shouldn't Beryl
know ?"

"I can honestly tell you, dad. Sometimes I feel as
though I were going mad when I think of her. I
have a doubt in rcy mind so horrible that it makes
me shiver when I read my own heart, and find it
there. I would give my life to see her face for
one minute, but I never shall in this world again,
never."

"My dear boy, what a notion."
"I never shar, father. I feel as sure as though I
had stood by her open grave, and heard the sods
rattling on her coffin-lid. There's mischief afoot some-
where, and if it pleases heaven to restore that poor
fellow's mind, we shall know where to look for it."
The two letters went away across the sea
in the Hebe, sister ship to the Psyche,
and the placards still hung on the walls, and
the police busied themselves in a lounging sort of
way to look for a man they had never seen, and could
not identify if they did, and no one thought of asking
Allan Temple any questions. The general opinion, if
anyone thought about the matter at all, was that
Graham Carson had levanted at the last moment and
gone to the diggings, as many a young man did in
those days of gold fever.
Three months passed away after the departure of
the Hebe, and Allan Temple began hourly to expect a
telegram in answer to his letters. They would hardly
wait to write about a matter so important. It was
close on Christmas, and so hot that they could not do
much more than sit gasping in the verandah, far away
from the flies, and sip cool drinks. They had seen
nothing of Mrs. Dalton for some time. Allan had had
an interview with her, and had gone home from it
looking, his father declared, like a changed man.
"She has heard from Beryl, father," he said. " /
shall never hear from her; don't talk about it, please
—some time or other I may learn to forget it."
That was all; but Mr. Temple, sen., gathered from
it that Miss Atherstone, in her prosperity, had for-
gotten all about " Semper Fidelis," and wished to
ignore Australia altogether.
Both father and son had begun to perceive a great
change in Graham Carson just before the hot 22nd of
December. There was more intelligence in his
eyes, and he moved with more life and energy than at
any time since he had been with them. His good
looks were coming back too, and in his fresh white
house suit and snowy shirt he looked like the Graham
Carson of the old summer days at home.
Still he did not know them, or where he was. The
elder gentleman's white head prompted him to call
him "father;" but Allan puzzled him, and he would
would sit staring at him by the hour in seeming be-
wilderment.
"I do think he's better," the young man said to his
father, in a low tone, as they sat together languidly
talking. "He notices things now, and I fancy that if
he saw anyone that he knew he would rouse. I hope
they'll send at once."
"It's costly work telegraphing to Australia, my
!ad, and I don't fancy Mr. Carson can be very rich, or
Atherstone either."

"But in a case like this they'd manage to raise
twenty pounds, I think."
"Mr. Atherstone never had twenty pounds before-
hand in the world, except when he put by for his
children, and never rich—he's too good to every
body."
The father and son stared at each other in silence,
half afraid to utter a word, for it was Graham Carson
who had spoken, and with no trace of imbecility in
his tone.
(To be continued.)

THE LS OF THE LY-EE-MOON AND
SEVENTY-SIX LIVES.

The lapt Australian mail steamer to arrive in this
country brought information of the committal for
trial of the captain of the ill-fated steamer Ly-ee-
Moon, which was lost near Sydney, N.S.W., with 70
lives. The Ly-ee-moon, with a large number of pas-
sengers, was going from Sydney to Melbourne, and
got ashore at Green Cape on May 30, becoming a
wreck in a very short time, 70 persons perishing.
Captain Webber and the third officer, James Fother-
ingha.in, were held for manslaughter. Both of them
were brought up at the Sydney Police-court on June
14, when the Crown, who had taken up the prosecu-
tion, withdrew the charge against Fotheringham.
Captain Webber, however, was committed for trial,
bail being allowed. The Ly-ee-Moon belonged to the
Australian Steam Navigation Company.

SELLING-UP LORD ST. LEONARDS II
MELBOURNE.

The Melbourne Daily Telegraph of June 24 con-
tained the following: "The licensee of the Cathedral
Hotel (Mr. Swanston-street, yesterday
carried into execution his threat to have the effects of
Lord St. Leonards sold by auction, if a sum of -£l9
owing for luxuries supplied was not paid. Accord-
ingly, in the morning, sundry tin boxes and huge
portmanteaus, &c., were conveyed to the Rus&ell-
street Police station and mounted on a table. Police-
constable Quinlan, who had executed the distress
warrant, assumed the r6le of auctioneer for the
nonce, and submitted to the large assemblage,
old clo.' dealers whom the sale had
attracted, the various articles. The collection was
a varied one, and many were the jests indulged
in at the expense of his lordship as his horse
racing apparel, dressing-gowns, ivory-headed dressing-
table requiiites, bearing his monogram, &c., were com-
peted for. It must be confessed that his lordship's
wardrobe was in a state of great disorder, but his dirty
shirts, both white and Crimean, were competed for
with an eagerness which exceeded the expectation of
the promoters of the sale. For a writing desk, a box
of paint, and such articles the buyers vied with each
other, and the total realised was beyond the amount
of the debt. Mr. Thomas Lloyd, financier, of Little
Collins-street, who is acting for his lordship in a ease
at home, whereby he hopes to obtain £70,000, offered
a certain amount in liquidations of the debt before the
sale, but the offer was declined. It must not be under-
stood that his lordship has been completely sold out.
It was only those things left at the Cathedral Hotel
that were sold. Nor is he financially ruined. He is,
the gentleman who has lent him some hundreds of
pounds recently says, only embarrassed. All is to be
well soon, and he is to have a large income. As it is,
he only enjoys a small one.