bosom. No brooch, no human brooch, I'll warrant! but a clot of the blood that dried on the spear of the Roman soldier. Ye have trafficked with the devil and have worn his seal. It has robbed me of my money and my home, my son, my daughter, and the power of my members-look at that blemished arm!”

She watched him for a moment, fascinated, seeing now his palsy; he beheld the pity in her eye, resenting it, and caught with his able hand at the bottle of Bordeaux which he poured with a splash into a tarnished goblet. He was about to drink it when he saw a look of fear and speculation come upon her face.

"May the Lord forgive me, Manor!" she exclaimed, "but I gave the brooch this morning to your son!"

"To my son!" he cried, incredulous. "How could you have seen him? He is far from here.'

One glance only Wanlook gave at the grey dog trotting in, and fell to weeping when he saw a neckcloth pinned upon it with the brooch! He reeled-a moment at the sight, then fumbled at the neckcloth and drew out the gem. With a curse he cast it in the heart of the burning peats where it lay a little, blinking rubescent, then rolled among the cooler ashes. He moved expectant to the open door where the dog was leading: the girl took up the gem, which stung her like an asp upon the palm; she dropped it in the goblet where it hissed and cooled among the wine, and at that moment rose the ory of Stephen in the avenue.

THE Marquis of Halifax of the Commonwealth and Restoration had, we know, some shrewd ideas on the subject of naval discipline and training. He also had certain opinions about the habits and behaviour of the female sex, and was brave enough to put them on paper under the title 'Advice to a Daughter.' Bold nobleman! For much less nowadays would Suffragettes have tied themselves up to your area railings, or had their indignant bodies sent to you by parcels post. Every man is ready with advice enough and to spare for his son, but before revolted Margaret even his Majesty's Ministers are dumb. For this reason, that no ordinary male will now venture to admonish the other sex, it may be interesting to explore the pages of a musty old book written more than two centuries ago, and, if we be very reckless, to extract therefrom certain maxims and apply them to the present generation. In parenthesis, why make sham martyrs by sending people to prison who want to go there? There is a tale of a Russian Countess who dabbled with Nihilism; one evening at a semi - Nihilistic tea - party the house was surrounded, and she was seized by two stalwart wardresses, who removed her to another room. Presently she returned dishevelled and in tears, and "On m'a fouetté comme un enfant," she moaned,

Lord Halifax begins his dissertation with some remarks on religion.

"As to your particular faith," he writes, "keep to the religion that is grown up with you, both as it is the best in itself, and that the reason of staying in it upon that ground is somewhat stronger for your sex, than it will perhaps be allowed to be for ours; in respect that the voluminous inquiries into the truth, by reading, are less expected from you." The Bible is "the best of books," and will be direction enough for her not to change.

On the whole, however, his attitude is not unlike that of the average Frenchman of the present day, who rarely visits a church, thinks as freely as he pleases, supports his Government in its attack on the religious orders-and yet, in his heart, much prefers that his wife and daughter should attend Mass. The Marquis was a religiously minded man, but not a religious Christian, and there is little or nothing in his essay that might not have been penned by a devout Buddhist. Still, he would have his daughter grow up a religious woman.

The largest portion of his discourse is on the subject of husbands. Apparently, lovematches were rare in those days. "It is one of the dis