The Sun.
London, England, 1866-03-17 00:00:00

THE SUN, LONDON, SATURDAY EVENING, MARCH 17, 186

.inion. It requires some special education or train-
g. No one supposes that the various noble lords

nd hon. gentlemen who succeed each other at the
Admiralty have any intention of wasting the public
. money ; but it is unquestionably true that, what
with the division of authority, the rival systems, the
changes of plans, and the whole cumbrous and
1 veighty organisation, a great deal of money is
wasted, and there is :a growing doubt as to whether
the work is efficiently done. Mr. LAIRD, in speak-
ing of our ironclad ships, said very forcibly, that
" we had got so many of these new ships built on a
new principle, and involving the large outlay of
over £.2,000,000, that he thought it wasthe duty of the
Government to send some of them out to sea—across
the Bay of Biscay, for instance—and to allow them to
pass a whole winter in the Atlantic, with some of
those built on the old principle, in order to enable
the country to form an opinion as to whether the
public money was being well expended or not in
their construction." This suggestion, how-
ever, would be far too practical, and would
submit the new vessels to too searching
a test to find favour in high quarters. It is the
fashion at the Admiralty to treat their favourite
vessels in a sort of hot-house system, which the old-
fashioned men-of-war of NELSON'S days were never
favoured with. The idea seems to be that it is the
first object to make a good appearance to the
House and the public to be able to bring forward
satisfactory accounts of the trial trip when awk-
ward questions are asked, rather than to construct
a really sea-worthy and efficient vessel. Thus, if we
are to accept Mr. GRAVES'S story, the Bellerophon,
" the most perfect vessel yet produced, when on her
preliminarytrial, did not attain the wished-for speed,
and consequently before the final trial at the mea-
sured mile 16ft. more funnel was added, with the
intention of its removal as soon as the trial was
over. Lord C. PAGET professed his ignorance of
what Sir JOHN PAKINGTON termed " a discre-
ditable trick," but from the tone of his re-
marks we should imagine that he thought
it not unlikely the device had been resorted
to. But it is not the question whether this or that
vessel by any particular builder attains a particular
speed ; the point at issue is whether the large sums
annually voted for our navy are efficiently
laid out. " The results," said Mr. GRAVES the
other evening, " had not been equal to the pro-
mises and expectations under which the public
money has been voted ;" and he based this assertion
not on the failure of any individual vessel, but on
the experience of some years' careful observation.
Our navy is, no doubt, in a transition state, but
the very fact of the uncertainty and alteration in
our position should make our naval authorities give
careful and unprejudiced attention to the question in
all its bearings. They should not suffer themselves
to be influenced exclusively by a gentleman who,
whatever his cleverness and enterprise, has cer-
tainly not been remarkable for his practical suc-
cesses. The treatment of Captain COLES is per-
haps an extreme, but it is certainly not an ex-
ceptional instance of the manner in which sug-
gestions from the outer world are received at head-
quarters. The inventor gets neither thanks nor
acknowledgment ; his design is hidden away in the
musty recesses of the Admiralty, until he himself,
sick with hope deferred, has ceased to exert himself
about it. Then it comes to the light with slight
alterations, under a different name, and some
favourite of the superior powers, to whom is de-
legated the task of adaptation or improve-
ment, gets the credit of the original in-
vention. This has not been exactly the case
with Captain COLES and his turret ships, but the
grievance is nearly as great. The Admiralty ad-
mitted that the experiment was worth a fair trial,
which it has never received, and all the evasions and
excuses of noble lords and honourable gentlemen
will not remove the painful impression of unfair
treatment from the public mind. Even now, though
Captain- COLES has been reinstated, the matter is
not settled. This vast unwieldy Monarch, of 5,000
tons, is not what Captain Cous has been so long
and so anxiously recommending, and whether it
prove a failure or a success it cannot be said to
settle the disputed point. It would certainly not
have demanded an extraordinary outlay to construct
a small turret ship entirely on Captain COLES'S
principles. The public will fully endorse Sir JOHN
PAKINGTON'S opinions when he says, " I trust that i
as the Admiralty have at length consented to build
a sea-going ship upon the turret principle their
Lordships will fairly test the invention of Captain
COLES." This appears to be the feeling of the
House generally, hon. members being naturally
dissatisfied at voting such large sums year after year
for what seems to be at best but a fair-weather
fleet.

CORRESPONDENCE FROM PARIS.

(FROM OUR OWN C ORRESP ONDENT.)

PARIS, Thursday Evening.

As some misapprehension appears to exist rela-
tive to the precise objects which the Conference at
Paris have to discuss, it may be well to explain that
it was not summoned in consequence of any com-
plication in the political affairs of Europe, but
simply to provide for an anticipated condition in
previous Treaties in the case of the necessity for the
election of a new Hospodar of Wallachia and Mol-
davia. The flight of Prince Couza realises exactly
the eventuality to be provided for. The arrange-
ment was that after the reign of Prince Couza
there should be a meeting of the representatives of
the Powers parties to the Treaty to concert with the
Porte the best plan of rendering permanent the
principles then only adopted as temporary. The
first point to be settled is therefore to ascertain the
just and reasonable desires of Turkey. When these
are made known to the Conference officially the
members will proceed to consider how far the views
of Turkey, in regard to the government of Wal-
lachia and Moldavia, are compatible with the gene-
ral interests of Europe. The Conference has also
to decide upon another matter of importance—the
regulation of the navigation of the Danube. For
nine years the question has been under considera-
tion which of the mouths of the Danube would be
the most easy to place in perfect navigability. The
Powers parties to the Treaty of 1858 decided, in
the course of last year, in favour of the Soulina,
and the present Conference will discuss the pro-
priety of ratifying the decision, according to which
various temporary works have been carried on
there.
The Journal des Debats has the following forcible
remarks upon the policy and importance of the Op-
position :—" A portion, the great part even, of the
most advanced party, in spite of the energetic and
persevering efforts of M. Thiers, voted on behalf of
the policy of maintaining the principle of free trade.
The Opposition thought the moment opportune to
show that its hostility is not systematic, and that
it accepts frankly what is useful, good, just, even
when the initiative in that course is taken by the
Government. Thus, in the list of Opposition mem-
bers who voted against the amendment of M.
Pouyer Queutier, having for object to re-impose a
duty upon 'corn, are to be found the names of
several of the leading members of that party.
These honourable members thought it would not be
wise to practise the maxim, too much in vogue
among the French Opposition party, of times
Danaos—or, all that emanates from the Govern-
ment is bad, and that even the good it proposes
conceals a snare. The Opposition would not sanc-
tion the allegation that the Government is the
cause of all the sufferings of the rural population.
Instead of doing so, the Democratic Opposition,
Which adheres to the principle of freedom of com-

merce, and considers it eminently prolific in pro-
ducing useful results, without hesitation gave its
sanction to the Government."

A most extraordinary but real case of confusion
of identity of a dead man has just occurred at the
town of Jargeau. A corpse was found in the Loire,
and several persons who saw it agreed that it was
the body of a man named Herteau. It was there-
fore interred with the accustomed formalities and
weeping. Only an hour after the funeral the son
of the supposed dead man went to the market, and
there, to his great surprise and delight, he met his
father alive and well, and in his usual good spirits.
" My God, father," said the young man, " we have
all just returned from your funeral, and, to prove
it, here is my black cravat round my neck, and in
my pocket I have a receipt for 62f. for your funeral
expenses." Mutual embraces took place in spite of
the costs which had been unwittingly incurred.
Further researches took place, and the body of a man
named Levacher was found in the Loire. Ile had
fallen into the river accidentally on his return home
from market late at night, and such was the re-
semblance between the two men that all the wit-
nesses unanimously identified him as Herteau. The
relations of the supposed dead man claim from the
representatives of the really dead one the expenses
they paid for the funeral, and this knotty and un-
precedented point of law is likely to engage the
attention of the tribunal of the department of the
Loire.

The Hallo, or central market, was yesterday the
scene of some alarm, in consequence of the sudden
appearance of an immense and ferocious cat, which
ran to the adjacent corn-market, and took refuge
among some sacks of flour. Many of the persons
employed at the market were armed with sticks,
and when the cat was dislodged it bit a man who
was passing. The animal was at length killed.
The man had the wound cauterized, but he is under
some alarm. The cat is described as being as large
and savage as a young tiger.
M. Chigi, the Pope's nuncio at Paris, is about
to leave for Rome ; and it is said will not return to
this capital as the representative of his Holiness
here. Several prelates have been named as the
successor to M. Chigi, among others M. Frauchi.
Baron Budborg, the Russian ambassador, has ar-
rived in Paris.

The musical mass, the composition of the Abbe
Liszt, which I have already mentioned, was exe-
cuted this morning at the church of St. Eustache.
It was immensely successful, and the effort was very
solemn, imposing, and gratifying. It was a real
religious ceremony, and was most numerously at-
tended. The result will be very advantageous to
the communal schools. Cardinal Bonnechose
chanted the office, and also pronounced an eloquent
allocution in behalf of the schools. The preludes
on the organ were executed by Liszt himself. I
reserve an appreciation of the character of this
musical composition.

In the Senate to-day a discussion took place upon
the proposed award of a prize for the most use-
ful ;proposals for new applications of the power
of the voltaic battery.

PARIS, Friday Evening.

The discussions in the Chamber still nearly fill
the papers, so that there is little miscellaneous
news. There was nothing in yesterday's debate to
interest the English reader. The Paris journals
speak of the introduction of the Reform Bill in the
House of Commons, but the measure seems rather
to bewilder them, and I see nothing in their re-
marks worth translation.

The attitude of Prussia in regard to the question
of the Duchies is the grave event of the day. An
influential writer, M. Forcade, who views the mat-
ter financially and not politically, says it is so
gratuitously aggressive and provocative that it does
not appear possible that Prussia can maintain it
much longer. She could not make war without a
loan, and, to be legal, a loan must be voted by the
Chamber, and this sanction M. Bismarck could not
obtain. No one would subscribe to an illegal
Prussian loan.

A woman named Anne Merilhae died a day or
two ago at Dax, in the Department of the Landes,
aged 105 years. Her support was an annual pen-
sion from the Emperor, who expends a great deal of
money from his private purse to succour those who
are represented to him as deserving of bounty or
urgently requiring assistance.
The application of typography to telegraphy has
just received a new and important impetus.
M. Bonelli, who formerly required five wires to
work his system, now carries it into effect with only
one. Some exceedingly interesting experiments
have just been made with the electric telegraph
between Milan and Neufchatel, in a direct line of
670 kilometres, which prove that electro-typography
has been improved to an extent which could hardly
have been imagined. By this new system, whatever
may be the state of insulation of the line, a despatch
arealmosta y
twhich
performed
i s
of. 20 words may be transmitted in 20 seconds.
Thus by a single wire 120 despatches, or 1,400
words, may be sent in an hour, and received at the
various offices printed in legible Roman characters.
By the systems of Mosse and Hughes errors were
very frequent. With the present telegraph of
impossible.quite
w oTherd independent
c omm ap oy s
bi -e
of the apparatus, m
tßeiv:ennneollithey
f children.th e despatches,
A despatch of 20
composed in two minutes, four compositors being
required to work the typographic machines when
the transmission is so urgent as to require the ex-
change of three despatches per minute.
It is unfortunately too true that the cholera again
manifested itself in some of the provinces of France.
There are still reports of its existence in Paris, but
they are vague, and it is better not to make
further allusion to them. The Moniteur du Calvados
says—" The cholera, although every day, diminish-
ing in intensity, continues its mysterious progress
on the right bank of the river Orne, successively in-
vading villages separated by great distances. Out
of 18 persons residing in the village of Val-de-
Laize, isolated at the base by a ravine and sur-
rounded by woods, seven were attacked with
the disease, and five died. The rest of the
residents followed the advice given them to
leave it, and now the only human beings
remaining in it are two old women, who,
after assisting those attacked with the terrible
disease, stop, as it were, to relate the sad scenes of
sudden death and terrible forms of suffering of which
they were witnesses.
The life of man is said sometimes to hang by a
thread. There are instances, as it would appear,
when even a snail may save a man from death. At
all events, as the Evenement records, a man has
been prevented from hanging himself, in conse-
quence of the involuntary interference of a basket of
those insects. A dealer in snails in the Rue des
Canettes, took it into his head that he would commit
suicide by hanging. He fixed a rope to a nail in
the wall, and mounted on some baskets of snails to
tie the rope round his neck. Fortunately for him,
however, his weight overturned the baskets, and
they made such a noise on the floor that the con-
cierge, who happened to be going upstairs, was
alarmed, and he knocked at the door to ascertain
what was the matter. Not receiving any answer,
he broke it open, and was just
in time to prevent
the suicide. Some readers may ask what do they
want with snails. The fact is that large quantities of
them are eaten in Paris. They are now in full season.
They are exposed at the window of almost every
traiteur (eating and wine shop), and are devoured
by many as a great luxury. They are fried in
butter with parsley, and smell savoury. I never had
the courage to eat any, so I cannot speak of the
flavour. What is certain, however, is that large
sums are expended daily in Paris in the snail busi-
ness. The march of the trade is much more rapid
than that of the article composing it.
The Moniteur of this evening states that the
Semaphore of Marseilles having circulated a report
that vessels from Alexandria had been subjected to
quarantine at Malta alarm had been excited at
Marseilles. The Government had immediately sent
a despatch to the French Consul, who, in his reply
by telegraph yesterday, stated that there was ro
longer any case of cholera in Egypt, and that only
one case was under treatment in the European
Hospital on the 7th of March, and that since that
period the public health was everywhere excellent.
This morning a very cold wind was prevalent,

but it ceased in the afternoon, and the weather be-
came warm and beautiful. At the time I close my
letter the temperature is that of spring. Dur-
ing the afternoon people have been sitting outside
the cafes and in the public promenades and gardens
as if it were summer.

LITERATURE.

Greatheart ; by Walter Thornbury, author of

"Haunted London." 3 vols. Hurst and Blackett.

Mr. Walter Thornbury has made choice of a
happy type for the hero of his new romance—Mr.
Greatheart of the Pilgrim's Progress. " Mr.
Greatheart was a strong man, and he was not afraid
of a lion," neither is Arthur Tolpedden. Here is
a picture of the hero in his bright, impetuous
youth :
The parlour door flew open, and in darted a find young
fellow cf twenty, wearing a well-fitting grey uniform, the
cuffs and collar scarlet. His white gloves, a little stained
with powder, were tucked in his broad leather belt; and
he had Lis rifle still slung over his left shoulder.
Arthur Tolpedden was a fine, well-made fellow, plea-
sant to look on, and dangerous to encounter. There was
an unquenchable vigour and life in every glance of his
quick, frank brown eyes ; good humour and high courage
even in the manner ho strode forward to grasp his bluff
old uncle's hand, at the same moment tossing off his cap,
and placing down his rifle in a safe corner. There was
nothing shy or awkward about the young Cornish rifle-
man—his strength was without clumsiness, his self-confi-
dence without vanity. In his every look there was the
indescribable bloom and magic of youth, and his fervid
manner, and the quick and elastic versatility of his ques-
tions and replies, were pervaded by a sense of that bound-
less hope and imagination that but too soon desert us.
Yet in no look nor gesture did ho betray the slightest
consciousness of his own courage or talents. He was
neither a book-worm nor a groom ; no one would have
doubted that he rode well ahead in the hunting-field, but
they might not have conjectured that he was also pas-
sionately fond of reading.
But the great charm of his character, his bold defiant
moral courage, could not have been so long concealed
from a keen observer, for it was at once apparent in the
manly way in which, without any foolish shame, he ran
up and touched his father's forehead with his lips. There
was none of that absurd affectation of cynical coldness or
indifference, or that sham immovability about Arthur Tol-
pedden, which is the insolent characteristic of some of our
modern youth. He had not yet learned to stare at his
father with a sort of blank superciliousness, through an
unneeded eye-glass, or to repress his own generous and
warm-hearted individuality, and affect a stoicism that only
age should bring, and that age has always so much reason
to regret. That immovability can only be purchased by
the loss of the hopes and pleasures, of the illusions and
ideals, that irradiate and glorify youth. We need not be
eager to put on that changeless and death-like mask.
Time thrusts it on us soon enough, and stops, one by one,
with his cruel, chilling hand, all those warm impulses of
the heart that fools who still feel them so anxiously
disown.

The genial, manly character of Arthur Tolpedden is
very happily preserved throughout the whole story.
" You only needed to shake bands with Tolpedden
at any time to shake out of him at once all anger
and malice." The scene of the narrative is princi-
pally in Cornwall, and upon the fluctuating success
of the various mines, Wheal Fortune, Wheal Ar-
thur, and others mainly depend the fate and for-
tunes of the Tolpedden family. Fluctuating, in-
deed, are the fortunes of the mines.—" Bad luck to
you," exclaims one sufferer over the black shaft of
a ruined mine, round which widows and orphans
are clamouring—" I shall :never set my heart
on a mine again. There's Mammon and
the devil at the bottom of all of you. Your
master was worth a hundred thousand pounds
yesterday, and now he's only worth the value of an
old engine and some rusty buckets." As the best
evidence alike of the chivalrous, gallant character
of the hero, and the animated and vigorous style of
the narrative, let us quote some passages from the
enthralling description of the terrible catastrophe
at Wheal Arthur, by which the hero nearly loses his
life as well as his fortane. Arthur has taken his
old sailor uncle, the lieutenant, to visit the mine at
an important moment :

While Tromuan was still preparing for tho blast, Arthur
and the Lieutenant arrived.

" What is the depth, captain ?" said Arthur.
"Four feet deep. We'ie going to use seven fingers of
powder, but the rock's damp here, Mr. Arthur. The swab
stick won't quite clear it—and we've had to use the tin
cartridge."
" Is the powder in ?"

" Yes, sir."

" Then in with the clay tampin," said the irritable lieu-
tenant, "or we shall bo here all night. Take care of the
lights, you boy there. flow foul the air is, Arthur; why,
tho candles will hardly burn."
"Turn the candles down, my dears," said the captain.

The men turned the candles horizontal, so that the tallow
dropped into the flame. The only sound was the ram-
ming in the soft rock on the powder, and the roll and roar
of the sea overhead.

"I should like to have for pocket money all the ore this
blast brings away," said the captain, who was fixing the
touch paper to a hollowed rush full of gunpowder.
"Who'd have thought, Arthur ?" said the lieutenant,
" that we should ever have been down in the hold in a
place like this, 480 feet beyond low-water mark, and the
big Atlantic overhead. By George, it is in a work, too.
There's as dirty weather brewing as ever a Dutch skipper
was out in. Oh ! they'll have it warm to-night off the
Welsh coast—there'll be drift-wood for the old women to
pick up to-morrow, I tell you, between hers and St. Anne's
Head."

"Thera is no danger, and I feel no fear," said Arthur,
"but this waiting for a blast always reminds me of the
sort of feeling which a sailor must have who is expecting
the first broadside in a sea fight. There go the boulders
again—what a night it will be !"
"That's the drag back. Not pleasant when you're
washed on shore, and clinging to a rock by your eyelids
for dear life," said the lieutenant.
" When will the gentlemen be down, if you please ?"
said Captain Tremuan, coming round with the swab stick
in his hand ; bring the snoff here now, Penhaluna."
"As soon as we give the signal," said Arthur, g, my
father's with
.them. By-the-bye, is that ladder repaired
yet, captain ?"
"No, sir; carpenter's been away—we go up in the
kibbles."
" Hang these fellows," said the lieutenant, as the ram-
ming of the tamping bare still wont on, they make as much
fuss about firing a few handfuls of powder as if they were
working a battery in a hot engagement."
"Now they're ready, uncle," said Arthur.

" Under cover, my dears," cried the captain ; " now
light the match, Penhaluna."
The men drew back behind the angle of rock--a dark
mass. All the lights were out but three; Penhaluna
stepped forward, took down one, and disappeared in the
darkness.

" There was never such a bunch of ore," said the de-
lighted captain, at his ease now the work was all done ;
"the charge is well tamped, and it'll bring it down with a
run."

"The snoff's well lit," said Penhaluna, as he returned
with the candle ; "it'll go in three minutes."
There was a dead silence. The lieutenant chafed at the
time.

"It's another blunder," he said.
As he spoke there came a crash that seemed to rend
heaven and earth ; a volcanic blaze of light burst from the
darkness, a shower of rock beat and splashed against the
wall of the level. It was as when the last wall of a be-
sieged city is shaken by a mine and falls into a gulph of
fire, with jarring, thundering, and tumultuous ruin.
"I never heard a blast go like that before," said the
astonished captain ; it is noise enough for the blowing up
a powder magazine."

" There's something wrong," said Bore ; " I hoar a
sound of water."

They listened.
There was indeed audible a strange gurgling splash, in-
creasing almost to a roar. Then came the rage of resistless
waters pouring through the rent wall of the mine. The
sea was in.

" The see, is in 1" cried all the men with one voice.

Then there was a rush to the engine shaft—a blind,
selfish, cruel, trampling rush as the water came roaring
down the level to where they stood.
In a minute or two more the men stood clinging to the
platform of the engine shaft, dripping and frightened.
Arthur and the lieutenant were the last to come, half
wading, half swimming, both still vigorcus, calm, and
resolute. They had no time to think of the future.
" Call the men's names, captain," said the lieutenant.
Tremuan called them.

Arthur, followed by the lieutenant, makes a des-
perate effort to rescue the missing ones, but in vain.
In the fruitless attempt the lieutenant disappears.
Accompanied by two volunteers Arthur returns to
the search.

Off dashed the three brave men, breasting to/Tether the
current, that now rose beyond their waists. Their search
was unavailing—floating timber that was all they could see
on the turbid current by the dim light of their candles.
Every moment the water rose higher and more threatening.
They shouted, but the only answer was a lonely mocking
echo from the roofing of rock.
At the corner of the second level they came to the two
mon paused, and refused to go further, for beyond them
in the darkness the water could be heard rushing in faster
and fiercer.

"Go back, then," said Arthur; "I will die here. I'll
not go.back till I have found him, living or dead."
hilt then, from the level near which they god, there

came a faint groan, then a cry of " Heave a rope there,
somebody !" Arthur held his candle downwards, to make
it flare, and leaped down like a shark into the deeper
water. A huge beam fell from the roof just where he had
disappeared.

" He's lost !" cried the two men. " God hare mercy
upon him."

While they stood watching the darkness, however, a
figure emerged with a splash, carrying an apparently
lifeless man in his arms. It was Arthur.
" Quick," he said, help me back with him to the engine-
shaft - that beam that fell struck him on the head—the
water is rising fast."

The three men hurried along the level towards the en-
gine-shaft, and rested for a moment with the body as they
reached the last gallery. There came a roar and a rush of
rolling water dashing through a confined passage, and
chafing at the restraint.

" We're lost, my dears," said Captain Tremuan, still cool
and collected as ever ; "it's all up —the sea's on us —we're
cut off from the engine-shaft—don't you hear them shout-
ing and struggling yonder, at the kibbles ?—aw dear !
they can't help us, and we shall die like drowned rats !"

"No, still there is one hope yet, men," said Arthur;
"hurry on—this level to the left leads to the tram gallery,
and I trust in God the ladder there is not washed away."
" He's got ahead, he has," whispered Tremuan to Bere,
as they dashed up the dark gallery, their last candle all but
burned out.

As they reached the entrance to the level, which led by
a, ladder and a trap-hole to the tram gallery above, the
candle flickered and went out.

"Aw clear ! aw dear !" said Tremnan ; " and before we
could find the ladder, too. Tho water's up to my knees,
Mr. Arthur. Aw dear ! how cold the lieutenant's hand
gets!" The last portion of the red wick dropped and
spluttered in the water.

" Feel for the ladder, men, quick, or we shall be lost !"
cried Arthur, sternly, for his mind was now clenched to
groat efforts, and the genius of heroism was upon him.
Tremuan groped hopelessly along the wall, groaning
and sighing—his courage began to fail. The water was
racing after them with cruel and irresistible haste. There
was no help near. The engine-shaft was a point of safety,
but from that they were inexorably and for ever cut off.
While Time lasts, no human foot would ever again tread
those passages which they had just left.
Arthur was raging with impatience.
" Hold his head, Bere, while I look. Tremuan, come
here, I'll find 'the ladder—why, what a dolt thou art man !"
Arthur felt along the wall with quick care, bat he failed
also. A thought struck him. He passed to the other aide,
in their haste they must have mistaken the bearings ;
but there was no ladder, no where any sign of a ladder—
they had evidently mistaken the level—this was an un-
worked one.

"Yes, it is gone," he said in a low voice. "Lads, we
must prepare for death, let us pray tog-other. Death will
be on us now in a few minutes. But one try more—those
who help themselves God helps. Shout with me, shout
with all your might, shout, men, for God's sake shout, or
we're lost !—for here comes the water !"

And they did shout ; such a bellow as the wounded
Cyclops might have given—such a roar as Goliath's when
the stone struck him.

" I heard a shout far off," said Bore, and he roared again,
enough to burst his lungs.
" Yes, there was an answer," cried Arthur.
" Aw dear ! thank God !" cried Tremuan.
There was indeed an answer, first from one, then two,
then a dozen voices. They came nearer.
" Who's there ?" shouted Penhaluna, down the trap--
hole.

"Mr. Arthur, Lieutenant Tolpeddon, Captain Trainman,
and Jack Bore. Let down a rope, the ladder's gone."
" Gone ! there never was one. You're in the dead level,"
cried Penhaluna, as a dozen candles glimmered sorer the
hole.

Down came the rope. Ina moment it was round the
waist of the lieutenant.

" Haul up gently there, d'ye hear, the lieutenant's been
hurt, he's in a faint," shouted Arthur.
In a moment or two the three men, with the body, were
in safety, thanking their delighted preservers ; and in a
moment more they had reached, by a passage or two, the
tram-road gallery, where some twenty dripping men were
collected, struggling round the tram, fighting who should
first ascend, for there was a panic on them, and a selfish
brutal fear had extinguished all better feelings.
Arthur leaped forward, and drew his revolver from his
side-packet. It was soaked—he remembered that, but lie
knew also that the men were too excited to observe that.
"Shame on you, cowards! cowards!" he cried. " Hers
is a dying man, and his life depends on his reaching the
air soon. Make way for him there; I'llshoot the first man
who touches the signal. I will be the last up; I, Captain
Tremuan, and Bero will wait last of all, but there shall be
room for the lieutenant, if I kill one of you for it."
The three men forced their way forward and placed the
swooning man in a corner of the tram. As it passed out
of sight the miners gained a little fresh courage, and fell
into some sort of order. Last of all, through the rising
waters, wont up, from the very jaws of death, Greatheart
and hie brave backers.

There was a deafening shout as they rose into the
light; a hundred hands stretched towards them, lights
flared, women screamed, wept, and tossed their arms,
even children shrieked with an hysterical delirium of joy.
Mr. Tolpeddon and Mr. Hookem, and Dodgoson, Fisher,
and Hewer, were the first to embrace Arthur, as he leaped
out of the tram, and thanked God that he was safe.

In another trial of a yet more painful character
Arthur's self-denying heroism is forcibly attested,
and his father proudly exclaims—" I have proved
you now to be Mr. Greatheart indeed ! You are
steel of the true temper ; you only get harder in the
fire." Endued with these gallant qualities we are
not a little surprised to find Greatheart, in one in-
stance, unworthy of his name, engaged in a duel
with one of the blackest characters in the story.
Till the last fatal moment we were loth to believe
that the hero would prove so lamentably wanting in
moral heroism. He does so, however, and our ad-
miration abates in proportion. A highly sensa-
tional episode concludes the history of the sur-
geons Bradbrain and Mordred, partners in
practice, partners in speculation, but rivals
in iniquity. The strange secrets discovered by
the investigating policeman, when it appears
highly probable that Mordred has " doc-
tored" the sherry wine that his partner is in the
habit of drinking, and equally evident that Brad-
brain has bestowed like care upon the port wino
beloved by his companion, are, to say the least of it,
highly improbable, and partake too much of the
absurd extravagance which has gained for so large
a portion of recent literature the epithet sensational.
Equally absurd are the extravagancies of Mr. Waver-
ton, the high-church clergyman, who holds the
feast of, St. Lucifer, and whose absurdities, ima-
gined of course by the author himself, give occa-
sion to many remarks not characterised by a great
spirit of religious charitableness, or too great an
adherence to matters of fact. If religious questions
are introduced into works of fiction, authors should
content themselves with a representation, as forcible
as they please, of the excellencies of their own
opinions. They may also, if they choose, express their
dissent from the views of others, but what they should
ever especially avoid is a misrepresentation of the
acts and opinions of their opponents, making them
speak and act in the pages of fiction as they never
have been known to do in real life. Fair contro-
versy is open to all, but the introduction of such
incidents as the career of Mr. Waverton can hardly
be said to come under that denomination. We more
particularly mention these blemishes because the
general tone of the whole work is like the character
of its hero—frank, generous, and manly.