The Express.
London, England, 1851-06-21 00:00:00

ITCHEN AUDT.N.

Successions of the Braasica family may he planted upon
land which has already been cleared of its former occupants,
or intermediately amongst other crops, which will shortly
ho removed, provided that the ground had been well
manured previously. Another sowing of peas should be
made; and the last in about ten (Lys after. Sow cabbage
for enleworts, endive for main crop, and make the usual
sowing. of radishes, turnips, lettuces, chervil, &c. Atten-
tion should he paid to the earthing up of potatoes, using tho
three-pronged hack instead of the sharp draw-hoe, which
it is a common practice to use, although very liable to cut
otf the young strings which lie near tho surface of the
ground. The soil for earthing should be drawn from the
centre of the space between the ridges. The earliest crop
of celery now requires partially earthing up; and as this is
intended for immediate use, it should be earthed up by
degrees, as the growth of the plant renders it us eessary.
Carrots, parsnips, &c., should be thinned, the perfection of
such plants greatly depending on the space allotted to them

. pleat.
indually.

BEtlf:EaTa.—The treasurer of King's College Hos-
pita' has just received the handsome legacy of 2001. from
the late Mr. Thomas Harris Bradshaw, and a further sum
of 1001. front the executors of the late Mr. Frederick Robin-
son, forming, it may be obserred, an important addition to
'the funds of the hospital, dependant, as it is, entirely open
such voluntary marks of benevolence.
ENGINE-DRIVER KILLED ON TIIE CALEDONIAN
RAILWAY.—On Friday evening last, an accident occurred
on tho Caledonian Railway, which resulted in the death,
under peculiarly painful circumstances, of James Watson,
one of the steadiest and most experienced engine drivers 011
the line. He left Edinburgh on Friday evening in charge
of the 915 mail train. Finding that he was losing time,
notwithstanding his utmost endeavours to keep up the
steam, he twice left the engine and went across the roofs of
the carriages, to see if anything was wrong with the
"drags." There being a cattle truck in the train, which
had an awkwardly situated drag, he was in the act of ad-
justing it, when he misted his tooting, and fell Olson the
line. The wheels of one or more of the carriages passed
over his leg, and severed it nearly through at a point about
as far up as the groin. He wait not observed to fall off the
carriage by either of the guards or stoker. The train pro-
ceeded onwards to Carstairs, on reaching which a special
engine was sent back along the line to ascertain what hail
happened to the unfortunate engine driver. The poor
fellow was found lying on the side of the railway in a pool
of blood, with his napkin and jacket tied round his leg to
stop the haemorrhage. Its was conveyed without delay to
Edinburgh, but died soon after his arrival at the Royal
Infirmary.—Caredonion Mercury.
RAILWAY MEETING AT DEvizEs.—A large and
influential meeting of the inhabitants of Devizes and its
neighbourhood was held on Tuesday last at the Town halt,
fur the purpose of taking into consideration the propriety
of memorialising the directors of the Great Wes:ern Rail-
way Company to complete without delay the branch line of
railway from this town into the main line at Stet erten, for
the purpose of making which they had obtained the neces-
sary act of parliament, and had advanced considerably with
the works. The chair was taken by the Mayor, and there
were ?resod, T. 11. S. Sutheron, Esq., M.P., G. W. II:1,c-
-age, Esq., M.P., Colonel J. B. B. Esteourt, Co;oial
Olivier, H. Butcher, Esq., the Rector of Devil., tho
Rev. E. J. Phipps, and nearly the whole of the leading
gentlemen and tradesmen of the town. A memorial to the
Great Western Railway Company, requesting that the line
of Railway from Devizes to Staverton may be completed
and efficiently worked without further delay, and that the
powers originally confided to the Wilts, Sem, rat, and
Weymouth Railway Company, and adopted and under.
taken by the Great 'Western Company, shall be put in fore'
by the immediate formation of that line, was unanimously
adopted. The meeting was then adjourned to Tuealay,
July 22, to receive the answer to the memorial.— !Veils
Independent.
DERBYSHIRE, STAFFORDSHIRE, AND Won( ESTER-
smut JUNCTION RAILWAY.—The ordinary half.yealy
meeting of the company was held at their offices, No.
2, Guildhall-chambers, yesterday; Rowland Gardiner
Alston, Esq., chairman. The report of the directors recom-
mended the forfeiture of 7,666 shares, belonging to parties
against whom proceedings had been instituted for the re-
covery of arrears, but who had submitted to bankruptcy of
insolvency. A resolution declaring those shares forfeited,
and giving authority to the directors to sell them, was car
ried unanimously, and the proceedings terminated.

LITERATURE.

always 90. Strange as it may scent to you, !lave sat in
high plum., been caressed by haughty =., and kissed
the hand of royalty. I was proud then, but my pride was
destined to be lowered. First came humiliation, then Da-
*Orr Conroy. By Captain :goatee. Culburn and Co.
Ten), ; faugh ! those yelping suns culottes, how they howled
About three years ago Capt. 'Haman, nephew of and snarled till they had hunted us Mg or Paris."
St. Paul's literary dean, gave the world, in a volume "Cannot you enjoy yourself in London as well ?"
of "Murray's Home Library," some lively pictures "It might be tolerable, had I the means to make it
of Andalusia and Spanish life. In the three volumes
soto. But „to live in this desert, ,without money, is hard
bow published the gallant author has embodied re- '
ugh„hali , want it, me dear sir, if f succeed
Collections of character and scenery stored up. whilst thro your means; that trifle is but an earnest of what 1
owing with his regiment in our West India islands. will do when my ends accomplished."
For the purpose of displaying these he has chosen a ' At this moment a servant opened the door, and an-
nounced one of the king's physicians. ll:Tared
btoo—a high-souled young gentleman, whom, after
. , a little surprised at seeing a shabbily man
hmesting with becoming iny;t:7, :Ind duly plunging sitting
familiarly at the tame table with the fashionable
him in all the distress of unrequited love,—ho with- baronet , but he was a man of courtly manilas, and when
Out more ado suddenly transports to Dominica, and Sir Waller introduced the abb6 as an Mil friend whom he
Seta him down as captain of a King's company, just , bad sot seen he yea" be returned the Prie.2t's haughty
as the republican commissioner, Victor Hague', is bow pedamily, and offered his diamond-studded snuir-...x.
bast' in the C'arribean sea attacking and Kara sin ; The tomumt pressed him to be meted' but he declined, and
B „unbind sanding by the table.
the ponce. *ens of the " tyrant George." " How is yoor patient ?" said the baronet.
ithout troubling ourselves with the plot of the The 'byname 4sook his head, and took a pinch of snuff
novel, w hich requires the gradual development before he replied, " She is :limy ill indeed. It was a stroke
Of the story to make it interesting, let us turn over, Ifetimnirtitl:ndblinfejLthas she
n broenr%nroyreareron..7er from
it,
for
these leaves and select whatever striking or beautiful ii an with the better," thought the baronet. " This will
Sketches may be enjoyed apart teas the main theme. be a mil blow to her only son, poor fellow ! I sent for him
The first extract shall show us how a good prows- heir„ yen arrived; but I fear he will come too late."
taut may be made to die in the communion of the "He will," said the physician, solemnly.. " There is in-
holy catholic church. It is only n to pre- deed as hope • Mn. Conway will die to night."
"This is ..a, indeed. Has she spoken ? Has she reco-
gnise that the wealthy Sir William Devere is dead, Tend her senses?"
having willed his enormous possessions to a distant .. She was in a state of coma when I arrived, but before
relative, on condition that that person should not I left there was evidence of a partial return of the senses,
marry a catholic. The lady actually married, a firm and her lir moved. By the bye, continued the phy,i,rician,
protestant, is supposed to be just dying, and the and whispering in the baronet's ear 1 did
itnolltiw that Mrs. Conway catholic." '
=et mentioned is rho heir-et-law, who thinks Sir Walter looked athimywith astonishment, and hardly
to profit by making her a catholic. suppressed an exclamation; but said quickly, in a low voice,
THE PUIRST AT THE DEtTil-RED. "ilia?, known it for some time."
The wind murmured and sighed mournfully amongst the "I was, I mates., taken by surprise," resumed the phy-
leafless trees in St. James's Park. There were faint dashes olden, in a hurried whisper, . when standing by her side,
gleaming across the dark sky, and occasionally a low, rum- I saw her snaking signs for me to stand back. I turned
bling sound came borne on the heavy air. Large drops of round, and there was an ivory cross with a Christ crucified
tarn fell at intervals, and the whole atmospere Seemed on it. She moved her head so as to get a view of it and was
loaded and oppressed with a palpable darkness. evidently praying to it, for her lips moved, and I think she
A solitary individual was crossing the Park from the tried tomes, herself. Excuse my rudeness in whispering,
Westminster side. He walked with a slow, but firm step, but I did not like to say this before a stranger."
and his whole appearance indicated etrength and resolution. The King's physician then took out his watch, looked at
Ile was about forty-lire years of age, and bore in his mien it, shook his head, as if he had said too much, bowed,
something that denoted high birth, although he was now and, saying that he would be back in an hour, left them
clad in it rusty suit of black, and carried a bundle under vain fete-O-tote.
his arm. • " • •
• • •
"There will be a fearful storm to-nicht," muttered the It was soon settled; and the priest, unrolling his bundle,
man, in the French language. " The darkness is fright- clothed himself in his violet-coloured robe. The maid, who
hi; but it is welcome, for it hides my poverty. Curse was in attendance on her dying mistress, was sent for her-
on those howling revolutionary dogs who hunted me out riedly, and the abbe conversed with her apart for a few
of Purim—but I forget," added he, bitterly, " I am a minutes. The maid, being a catholic, was easily convinced
priest, and we are taught to despise riches, and to mor- that what was to be dune was for the good of her mistress's
any the Mesh; but have we not our feelings and our passions soul, particularly as it never occurred to her that there
like other men? only we must bide them from the world as could be any sinister object in the performance of a holy
if we were better than others. What can this Englishman sacrament. The priest, therefore, having requested that
want with the persecuted French priest ? Has he some one he might be informed when his assistant arrived, ascended
to confess ? Is he one of us ? Well, well, I care not, for with her to the chamber of the dying lady.
he offers sae money—besides, is it not for the greater glory • • • • •
of God ? and dues not the end sanctify the means ? but can " I will exhort your mistress to confess, before she re.
I attain that end without money ? shall I scruple then to °elves the last sacnneent," said the priest to the agitated
obtain it ' —this is the reasoning, and it suits me. Will maid, as they entered the chamber. • Leave us alone, but
that foul Chaumelin meet me as I appointed, with the remain within call."
cross, and the vase, and the brush—these tools which we A single wax candle, burning dimly, stood on a small
use, and which such fools as he put trust in. And 1— marble table shedding a faint light on the furniture of the
what do I believe in ?—nothing." room; but the priest's eves did not wander.
The privet, for such he was, awful as his thoughts lie approached the bed and drew back the heavy curtains
were, crossed the l'ark, and stopped before a large house gently, with a tremulous hand, and gazed for a few minutes
In the Mall. Lights were moving to and fro, gleaming at the pallid countenance of the dying woman.
from the windows. The street-door was open, and there Hoe eyes were wide open and upturned towards heaven,
seemed some unusual bustle. One carriage with post- but there had spread already over them a glassy film, and
horses was just starting from the door, and another had they moved not.
that moment driven up. Her lips were closed, and round them flickered a faint,
"Is this life or death ? diem one more wretch come sweet smile, that spoke—
into the world to swell the vast tide that is ever hurrying of peace, and rent, sad Moose= wens.
on to annihilation, or is only one more added to the heap She did not gasp or moan, but lay there like an alabaster
of corruption and rottenneas that forms the earth ? Which- figure, still and motionless, and as spotless and pure. No-
OW it is, I will profit by it." Thus muttered the priest, thing indicated that the breath of life was still in that fair,
as a dapper little man jumped nimbly out of the carriage, emaciated frame, but a scarcely perceptible movement of
and entered the house. " Does te Conway live the nostril so slight, that the priest at first thought that he
here ?" the priest inquired of a man-servant, who was had come too late, and that she was already dead.
standing at the dour.
"Yes, But, as he looked at that pale, seraphic countenance,
he dues," answered the footman, in that super. acmes which
there sum fast spreading his veil of apathy,
callous tune, which that description of animal knows so well over his own there came a fierce and sudden change, hen
how to assume, letting his gooseberry eyes wander over the he stood there like one struck by an electric shock. Then
priest's .hubby draws, " what may you please to want ?" he stooped down and gazed at her, as if he would read
" I want your master, fellow," replied the Frenchman, every feature, and raised with shaking hand a tress of the
with a %Lilco of peculiar command, and an air that spoke long hair which lay loosely and carelessly on the pillow, as
authority.
if scarcely belonging to the form that had once been so,
" I duel think he will see you," said the servant, dof 't rou
lowering his tone •' " mistress has had a lit, and is very ill ; p The hair had beam formerly of a bright golden colour, but
but I'll sec: what name shall I say?" now appeared dull, and streaked with grey.
" Say that the man he sought is come." Still, the priest seemed to recognise it, and for a moment
" Walk into the ball, and 11l go and tell him," said the his features relaxed, his eye dilated, and the fierce stern
lacquey, as lie lounged lazily away. look gave way to one of unutterable love. His lips parted,
" 1 had nearly forgotten myself," muttered the priest. and he murmured one word : " Eugenie !"
"Name—have I a name ? Curse on this poverty, see how
the veriest cur of a laequey despises me • but I must have The priest now recognises the form of one whom
a sane; let it be, then, what the fool Chaumelin calls me in another character and a distant country he had
—the Abbe." years before met, and to possess whom he had in
. . _

. .
vain slain two fellow-creatures. And had she a son,
and that son not his? Then on that eon should tho
hatred born of disappointed passion alight; hence-
forward the baronet and he bad one end.
So occupied was the priest with this dark and ominous
thought, that he scarcely heard a knock at the door.
The dying woman's maid entered, and told him that the
physician had returned.
. Say unto him, my daughter, that the minister of the
Holy Church is with her, about to administer the last sacra-
ment, that she may not appear before her God unannealed.
She k cielseelag her sins, and will soon bo ready to depart
ie
The hesitated, but the priest quickly shut the
door, and turned again into the room.
He now examines the little piece of cabinet furni-
ture surmounted by. a crucifix, to which the short-
sighted court physician had supposed the dying
woman was paying a superstitious adoration. Its
inscription, a scene on its painted panels, convince
him that this is a gift to tho lady from Cardinal
Pictra, and commemorates the deliverance of the
receiver, a Huguenot, from a convent, or a hated
marriage, by the donor.
"It was you, then, my Lord Cardinal,' muttered thepriest,
la a deep, smothered, husky voice—" it was you, thee, who
steed betwixt me and my love—my love and my vengeance ! 1
You—the Cardinal !—ono of the shining lights of our holy
church, who sheltered and protected the fugitive heretic!
Anathema!—Maranatha! Ile thou accursed! But thou
set dead, and my curses are unavailing!" added he, with)
memealuded bitterness.
Oh, te was a terrible sight ! The priest—the holy men—
the wasesegeo of peace—gnashing lii, teeth, and cursing
the died hem the foul depths of his heart, before the
=which his knee ought to have bowed in humble
I and this, too, in the chamber of the dying!
It was terrible to hear, instead of the heart-felt prayer, 1
that fearful anathema from the lips of him who should hare '
brought tidings of consolation to the departing soul !
Now, for the first time, the priest perceived a small
golden key, hanging by a thread of twisted hair from an
arm of the cross. Wm it curiosity alone, or did he
expect to find in the drawer some precious relic, that he
opened it ?
The slight grating of the lock in the silence of the
ehasaber startled him, mid he paused and turned his head
round, as if the thought of sacrilege had paned before I
him. Then he went and bolted the door, returned with
stealthy pace, drew back the curtains of the bed again, and
intently,
listened to hear if the dying lady still breathed.
As be stooped over her, her lips parted, and she mur-
mured in a whisper, sweet and plaintive as the sighing of
the wind amidst the aspen leaves :
"My son! my son!"
The voice, low as it was, seemed to him to echo through
the room. The words rang in his ears painfully ; they went
back—far, far back—from the present time, into the
dreamy past; they recalled to his memory something that
made his eyes flash fire, his limbs tremble, and his breath
conic shorter and quicker. lie wished to hear more, in
I spite of his lineation, but the invalid's eyes remained fixed, 1
and her lips closed again. tie turned away, and went
back to the crucifix, and took from the drawer a small
fiat purse, such as the Moors make, of crimson velvet,
embroidered with gold. There was a folded paper en-
closed in it. Was it some charm against the evil eye, or
something more holy, thus carefully preserved?
The priest opened the paper, and reed he emOsals.
The effect on him was strange : at first he appeared pow
Jody rodysed ; then a mocking smile owed over his
as he said, " Chaumelin weld call this • 1
4.1111".1=11:1 Providence, and thank God Ihe it; bat I am
Mt oodt•hypocritc—l call it chance, sad *irk unlit ;
lot ellgover it be, chance or Provides's% ayetiest is
ollidsi. The book is open before me, sad I as nod ft."
A. he said this, the priest returned the pow to the
bower, shut and locked it, and hung the small key
soda on the arm of the cram; but plead the paper care-
hilllyd& about his own person, and went halt win to the
ho
Ilan is those few brief moments a visible change bad
Mid in the countenance of the invalid. Death was
Illel
ea slowly, but surely, foreshadowing with unmis-
his fearful advent. The priest perceived
that bror ar:ras near; he went hastily to the toilette-
-, took up a - of scissors, and, re,. ' - to the bed,

The smart soon returned, and ushered the priest into
the prt wove of Sir Walter Conway. The baronet was
sitting by a blazing fire, with a table before him, on Ala
were several decanter of wine and a plate of olives—
for he was a true don vivant, and repudiated the delicacies
of a dessert as injurious to his port or burgundy. The
Abbi was evidently not an unexpected guest, kit • plate
and glasses were placed opposite to the Yo
aall
cosy arm-chair wheeled up near the fire, widdo we& of
them.
" Peace be unto this house," said the priest, craning
himself as he entered the room.
"The Abbe Latouche, I presume? Will you excuse my
not rising ?" said the baronet. " Take a seat, Sir, I beg,
and help yourself, if your order does not forbid it. The
wine is old, and the olives new."
The priest smiled scornfully, as he seated himself in the
arm chair, and pouring out a glare of wine, he said:
" It is my poverty, and not se ceder that forbids it, Sir
Walter ; burgundy and I have set but rarelaiely "
There was something in these few words, be dm
manner in which they were which AB haannet
that this was the man he ZiriPhur
peer—one who would ratifies manteheedlpe
MOMS would allow ham. M.d at lb
poverty, and showed that he wee partial all VA Mir
of this life, cod this in one inietimatenos.
Just the man for him. Vet be determined In passest
eautiow.:y at first. But, flushed with wine end lIIW to
the practice of dissimulation. tie baronet woe ao ash&
fur the abbe, if the latter haillms its *ley a put.
As they sat opposite to ono assease hefts eircerfel
fire. he themselves at I liberally te fie sparits
hug burgundy, the following enaversstion pond between'
them ; the baronet being the first to speak.
" You must be aware, Monsieur l'Abbe', that I did not
send fur you on my own account. I think I mentioned
in my note to you that there is a lady connected with nais
by marriage who follows the doctrines of the Roma
catholic church ?"
" You did, Sir Walter; and I was much surprised at it."
" Why so?"
" Simply because I thought it strange that there should
be a catholic in a family so essentially protestant. May I
ask the lady's name ?"
" There is no need now of making a mystery of it,"
thought the baronet, " I may as well tell him. It is mg
late brother's widow ; she is of your nation, and there was
something romantic in her history, I believe; but uI I.
not know the facts, I cannot tell it."
" If you did, Sir Walter, I should not wish to hear St
reminiscences of the put are bitter things sometimes. DO
are you sure that she is of our holy religion ? llu she ear
any priest ? lies she had a confessor ? Such are yet to be
retina, fur though hunted and persecuted, we still exist ?"
" No, I think not," answered the baronet, venturing a
terrible lie; "my sister-in-law is very timid, and has been
of late years a dreadful invalid; but a few days ago she
express:il a wish to see a minister of your creed : perhaps
she is anxious to confess."
" Nay, that can hardly be under the circumstances, for I
heard tint the lady was already in extremis. If so, I haw
come ton late; and, indeed, I ought to have convincing'
proof that she is not a heretic before I administer the rites
of the holy church."
" She has not professed it openly, it is true, for the Wee
of her son, who is at Oxford; but there can be no doubt of
the fact. She has a small oratory, and prays daily, Mean
before a crucifix. No protestant does that."
" Even granting that, it is now too late for her to receive
the extreme unction, that last holy rite of our church, pro-
vided what your servants said is true; they told me their
mistress was actually in the death agony."
" The babbling fools," thought the baronet. "If this
man is sincere, there is no hope for me. I must be more
open with him." Ile filled a bumper of burgundy, and
drank it off.
" I will confer to you, Monsieur l'Abbe, that I wish most
particularly that this lady should receive the last rites of
your church before she dies."
"It is impossible, Rir Walter, unless she recovers sue-
deafly to be sensible of their performance."
" I will give you five hundred reasons to make it pporanable.
and five hundred more if it can be done before wkaseea
Bar own maid is a catholic."
There was a pause, and they looked at one another
steadilyy.
" M violet robe is there • and the conseented ail ill
round my neck ; and m assistant Chaumelin will be bon
" said ' abbe.

P.llll4isa .111 e, slowly and distinctly.
• !be gement. Asa, my dear abbt," exclaimed the ba-
maskjyytally.
M.
"Illy seal earboly church is so great," said the priest,
meningly, " that if the lady is Dot dead already I will ad-
minister the last sacrament. But you men give me your
One= before I do it."
°lva write you them in gold, Monsieur TAW, or what
It wore as much. Will yon accept this trigs ?"
"Fee the IMIP of the poor, and the greater glory of God,"
Mid the priest, rising and taking a slip of paper which the
baronet handed to him across the table. It was a note for
live hundred pounds.
" Will that remove your scruples? If so, we will speak
more openly, if you please."
Your arguments are liberal, and your reams convinc-
ing. I am now at your service."
" Are
e you really what you pretend to be--a priest of the
catholi religion r
" That question cams rather late, Oir Walter OW to my
sorrow I am s pleat, oat • poor privets too, but I was not

table, ...ons tip a pair
returning 7 _
cut off a tress of that beautiful goldeii hair, and placed it in
his bosom. Was there love or hate in this simple set ?
When he had done this, he rang the bell sharply, and de-
sired the maid who answered it to let the physician know
that a sudden change
.had taken place, and that her mis-
tier was evidently dying; and he requested her to send up
his assistant directly, Vint had arrived, lest it should be too
late to administer the extreme unction.
This done, the priest, having deposited the t hial of con-
secrated oil on the little marble table, placed himself in au
attitude of humble prayer before the enacillx. The physi-
cian entered, followed by the maid and a rickly-looking,
middle-aged man, dressed in a black soutane, and carrying
• cross, a small vase of holy water, and • sprinkling-brush.
He wore a boon, and Ids look was downcast and de-
hewed they maw Into die room, the priest rose and
lowly to the physician, who returned it slightly ; not
recognising, in his sarplies and violet robes, the shabbily-
droned man whom be bed sem sitting by the baronet's
In.

" I tear the lady is in the death agony.," said the priest,
addressing the physician in French, as he approached the
bed and looked at her now agonized countenance. Her
jaw had fAlen her eyes were fir.d on vacancy, and her
small white handsi were clutching nervously at the bed-
clothes.

TM plipirian turned away sorrowfully, and said, " You
are a asibter of the catholic religion, I presume, sir, by
you dress: if BO perform your Mikes quickly, for in a few
saimsts ale will have ceased to breathe."
Clummialin lighted a consecrated taper at the wax-light.
The AMM, with the holy-water brush, sprinkled the pillow
and Am al the invalid, repeating the prayer commencing
" Prelehore =Las Christiana;" then he took the silver
meth; awl held it to her lips to kiss.
He hawed his heed down over her: in doing this, with a
convulsive erect, the dying lady started up in her bed, and,
with a low bat tigamising shriek, that pierced the ears of
all, she cried, "My son . my son !" Then her head sank
slowly back upon the pillow, and her sad soul separated
from her wasted body.
In that last moment upon earth, she had reeognhca the
countenance of the priest, which, in truth, bore a strange
resemblance to the face of the man in the left-hand panel,
who was carrying off the child.
liequieseat in pare," said the Abbe, agitated violently,
in spite of himself: be, however, whispered something to
Chaumelin, and hurried hastily from the room.
The maid closed the ghastly eyes of the corpse, shedding
many tears, and lamenting bitterly the loss of her des r mistrms.
The physician., accustomed to scenes of death and misery.
remained a minute or two as if watching whether life was
really extinct; then, dashing away a tear, lie took a pinch
of muff, and left the room. The aiY tint, Chaumelin,
placed a small cross on her breast, between her hands the
vase of holy water, and the sprinkling-brush at her feat,
and knelt down by the bedside.
This terrible imposture orer, the baronet and the
priest, now become his master, confer in this wise—

"Do you not think there is sufficient evidence to prove
that Mrs. Conway was a catholic r inquired the priest,
hesitatingly.
"No,' replied the baronet, impatiently: "the evidence
is only presumptive. Both judge and jury, being protest-
ant', would look upon it with suspicion ; nothing having
been apparently done by her own act or free-will."
" That is unfortunate. What sort of young man is her
ion ?"

---IHe u diver, proud, and high-spirited ; but he has not
what is commonly called a well-regulated mind, for he has
been left too much to himself."

" Does he, then, not love his mother much ?"
"He has been away at school and college a great deal,
and has spent most of his vacations with us, in Devon-
shire; and although his mother was generally there, she
was always an invalid, and kept to her room ; so that he
has not seen so much of her as sous usually do; still he
always loved her, and is proud of her high birth and noble
family."
The thought of Arthur's attachment to his own daughter
occurred to him at that moment, but that he reserved to
himself for the present.
"Cause it to be whispered abroad," said the priest, in a
hoarse, unnatural voice, for the struggle had commenced,
"that Mr. and Mrs. Conway were never married; that is,
not legally married ; fur rumour, with her pointed tongue,
will soon bring it to the first point."
" What good will that do, if we cannot prove it ?"
" Leave that to me, Sir Walter; I will undertake to
prove it, if necessary. He will hear this, he will inquire
into it; he shall find that there is strong evidence to that
effect, which, if produced, might blast his mother's fair
fame. Then, if I can read human nature, and this young
man is such as you describe him to be, he will not go to law
at all. The memory of his mother must be sacred, and he
will not like to run the chance of its being defamed, opealy
defamed in a court of law, which it must necessarily be if a
trial takes place ; but it must come upon him by degrees.
If you are rash, and threaten him with proceedings at
once, he will kick against it like a young colt, harnessed
and put into the ahafts without any previous preparation."
- -

The artifice succeeds so far that, as we afterwards
learn, young Conway, out of regard to his mother's
name, resigns all clam to the inheritance and accepts
service in a deadly clime. This removal gives our
author a fine opportunity of describing the principal
features of tropical scenery. This part of his task
is performed with great art.
In Captain Militian's description, the features of
the tropical west seem to live and play before us.
Over these islands, rent and disfigured by earth-
quakes and volcanic shocks, Nature has hastened to
cast a thick veil of vegetation, as if eager to hide the
scars which there mar the earth. Chasms and gul-
lies suddenly yawn in the midst of plateaus, from
which once fiery mountains rear their hollow cones.
But ravine, plain, and peak wear alike a perpetual
mantle of the richest green. Where the hand of
man has not taught the sugar-cane or coffee-plant to
rise, nature wantons in the luxuriance of ten thou-
sand fantastic forms. The guinea grass waves over
savannahs, the wild vine adorns the mountain side
or the craggy rock, and ten thousand shrubs and
creepers throw out their tendrils across the primitive
sward, to form a matted habitation for insects and
reptiles innumerable. Above this lower world, the
feathery bamboo, the graceful tapering palm, wave in
the breeze, the tamarind and the orange trees cast their
shade and the limes give out a delicious fragrance.
Birds of brightest plumage are on the wing, and
moths of golden hue dart like meteors through the
air. Amid this scenery is beheld through a grove of
mangrove trees the planter's low green-shingled house,
with its verandahs, its trellis covered with climbing
plants, and its orange-coloured hedge of Barbadoes
pride. Such is the world amid which Captain Mil-
man has chosen his hero should love, work, and suffer,
defeating the jesuit whose arms are stretched across
the nuun for his ruin, and finding gratitude, faith-
fulness, and resource in a cannibal Carib. His
mysterious island enemy, one Marinier, proves to be
the Chaumelin who had played second to L'Abbe
Latouche, the ci-devant Marquis de Charolles, iu the

death-chamber of Arthur's mother. It is unneces.
nary to say that poetical justice is in the end done
to all.

Arthur Conway is a work of rare merit. The style
is always facile and smooth, the construction skilful
and combined with considerable descriptive power.
The story never flags, every line serving to heighten
its interest. Unhappily for the public the author is
beyond the reach of mortal praise, having some
months since met with an accident which brought
his life to a premature close.

rhe Registration of Deeds in England; its Past Proyressi
and Present Position. With an Analysis of Lord
Campbell's Bill for the Registration of Assureni‘es, now
before Parliament. By WILLIAM H.tzurr, Esq., Bar-
rister-at-Law. Stevens and Norton.
The object of this pamphlet is stated by the
author to be, "briefly to explain the general prin-
ciple of registration, and to trace the steps by which
it has obtained almost unanimous recognition, as a
measure of public utility, especially to the landed
interest." Remarkable testimony was borne a few
nights since of the competency of Mr. Hazlitt for
the task he has performed. Lord Brougham spoke
on the subject in the House of Peers, and Lord
Campbell echoed the commendation. After this it
behoves every possessor of real property to examine
Mr. Hazlitt's pamphlet, and to scrutinise the im-
portant subject it refers to. All are deeply inter-
ested in the question of registration, and the subject
appears now to be in such a position, that if the
owners of the soil bestirred themselves in earnest to
support the legal members of the House of Peers,
there is a probability of our obtaining a satisfactory
change in faulty existing arrangements. Au extract
or two from Mr. Hazlitt's treatise may illustrate
this: