been mentioned again.

"Aren't you going to bring your friend Mr. Bracebridge," Arthur had said as he was shaking hands with his brother-in-law at the hall door. "We're always glad to see you, you know, whether you come alone, or who you bring, but I want to enlarge my acquaintance now for Louy's sake."

"Penridge old fellow," replied Mander, feeling the unselfish good nature with which the other spoke, "it's needless to say that you are a brick. I will bring Brace if I can, with all the pleasure in life.”

Consequently upon these last words was it that Fred declared to his friend during the week, and pledged his spiritual existence as to the necessity of the measure, in the way already described, that Brace would really have to go down with him where the pigs lived, on the ensuing Saturday.

It is not a matter of course, in the nature of things, by any means, that Bracebridge should have gone, but, as a matter of fact, he declared when, the project was suggested, that they would see about it when the time came, and when the time did come, having no reason to the contrary, and the weather being, as it will have been perceived, necessarily oppressive in town, at the latter end of July, so that a Saturday and Sunday out of town somewhere was a necessity, he went.

Arthur Penridge was a regularly unselfish man, who could even refrain from boring his friends with his hobbies. When a man keeps pigs, gets you to come and see him at his country house, and refrains from taking you to see the pigs he, proves himself a man of men.-You might trust him with a five pound note. Arthur Penridge made no reference to the pigs when Fred Mander and Bracebridge came up the drive on Saturday afternoon, and he emerged out of the ground (at that particular spot converted into a sunk hothouse for cucumbers, and other exacting vegetables) and received them. Far from taking them to see the pigs, he escorted them into the presence of his wife, engaged in the drawing-room with a perennial ball of white cotton, and a crochet needle. Louy had no passionate love for the interesting pursuit in which she was engaged, but had received it from her mother, as part of the whole duty of woman, to have her fingers always occupied with something in the nature of needle work, and kept a crochet needle and a ball of cotton,which went a long way considered in reference to time, in her pocket, always ready for emergencies. Embroidery, lying on a lady's lap, looks just as well if it has just come out of her pocket, as if it has just been laid down from her hands, a fact to which Mrs. Arthur Penridge was well alive.

Brace, it will be remembered, already enjoyed the pleasure of Mrs. Penridge's aquaintance and an introduction was unnecessary. He put a series of questions to the lady in reference to her impression of continental travel, and appeared to take the deepest interest in the replies. Louy had not yet reached that perfection in the art of conversing which enabled her to feel when her guests might be weared with a particular topic. Indeed, conversation always flowed

more freely with her when it took the narrative form, and she could describe her own experiences. She was never at a loss for talk under such circumstances, and on the present occasion might have gone on for a fabulous length of time but that Fred, about the time when Brace's questions died away, and his share in the dialogue became chiefly acquiescent, interrupted his sister with the rudeness only possible in a brother.

"Write it all out Loo, and send it up to Somerset House by the post!" he said, jumping up and stretching himself, "or give us the rest in the evening. We're wasting the afternoon. What little amusements have you designed for the entertainment of an affectionate relative between this and then?"

Louy did not yield up her right of speech willingly, but made the sacrifice, nevertheless, merely suggesting that Fred for his part might perhaps like to walk into Tunbridge and back, in which case they would try and spare him till dinner. The young man however, let his sister off that time without returning the thrust.

"If," he said to his friend, "you are ever overcome by feelings of admiration for me, Brace, come and discuss the subject with my sister. She'll bring you round if possible. But meanwhile you must really see something of the hills on which my father feeds his flocks. My foot is on my native heath and my name is Norval, room No. 400 at the Inland Revenue office, Somerset House, my feelings can only expand freely in the open air, so let us all go out."

YUK NOO,

THE ROUND HEAD'S DAUGHTER.

A ROMANCE OF 1,600 YEARS AGO.

TRANSLATED FROM THE CHINESE by the late REVD. EDWIN EVANS, CONSULAR CHAPLAIN, AMOY.

CHAPTER III.

The marriage ceremonies were soon concluded, after which the bridegroom proceeded to his bride's chamber. Just as he was entering the apartment, evidently quite exalted with gratified pride, and carrying his head very high, suddenly, from each side of the doorway, there rushed upon him seven or eight old female slaves, each of them grasping a bamboo cane with which they began to thrash him well, and the blows fell upon his back and shoulders like rain.

Mô Ke called out loudly to his father and mother-in-law for assistance, and just then he heard a delicate voice from an inner room, telling them to leave off beating, and not to hurt him any more, also to bring him in, that he might be seen. They immediately obeyed, and the old women dragged and pushed him along into the presence of the bride. Mô Ke kept exclaiming all the time, "What crime have I committed?" when, raising his eyes, the brilliant lights in the room clearly revealed that, in the person of the stately bride seated before him, he saw his own wife Yuk Noo!

At this sight he nearly fainted, and cried out "it is a ghost!" All the attendants hearing it, burst into a laugh, but Hew Tih How at that moment entered the chamber and said.

"My good son-in-law, do not doubt, this young lady is from Chae Yew Keang, and is no ghost!"

Mô Ke then fell upon his knees, and folding his hands said, "I confess my crime, and hope it will be pardoned."

Hew Tih How replied, "I must leave you two to settle that between yourselves, and if my daughter will forgive you, of course I shall say nothing about the matter."

But Yuk Noo, spitting in his face, and abusing him, said, "You vile mean thief! do you not remember the words of Sang Kung? The woman you have married in poverty should never be forgotten in affluence, and the wife who has eaten with you of coarse rice, must not be set aside.' Formerly you, empty handed, as a son-in-law, entered my family and shared my father's wealth, which enabled you to study, and qualify yourself to acquire your present dignity, and which he looked forward to my sharing with you. How was it you forgot all the claims of gratitude, and all sense of what was right, as well as your conjugal duties, and threw me into the river? Fortunately, the High Ruler took pity upon me, and this kind father saved and adopted me as his daughter. If it had not been for him I should certainly have found a watery grave. Your heart must be destitute of all mercy, and with what feelings can you regard me, now we have thus unexpectedly met!" Yuk Noo then wept and ceased not abusing him.

Mô Ke was completely overwhelmed with shame and confusion, and could not utter a word in reply, but only bowed himself before her. Hew Tih How, thinking he had been sufficiently punished, then raised him from the ground, and said to Yuk Noo.

"My daughter be no longer angry! Mô Ke now repents of his crime, and besides, he will not again dare to treat you even with disrespect. Although you were formerly husband and wife, yet now, in my house, you are bride and bridegroom, and have always myself to whom you can look and appeal, so let this unfortunate affair be forgotten from this time." He turned to Mô Ke and said;

"My good son-in-law, you must now exercise a little patience and I will

go and call your mother-in-law, to assist in reconciling you." He then left the room.

Very soon the old lady arrived, and, after a great deal of advice and persuasion, succeeded in settling matters amicably.

The next day Hew Tih How prepared a feast in honor of his son-in-law, and taking the golden flowers, and embroidered silks, which Mô Ke had sent to his Bride, returned them to him saying; "It is not proper for a wife to receive two sets of wedding presents. When you first married and entered the Kim family, you presented suitable gifts to your bride, therefore it is unnecessary for you to do so again. The regret which you felt because your father-in-law held no good station in society, caused a breach of affection on your part. I have now appointed him to an office which confers some little rank, though perhaps not so high as you could wish." Mô Ke hearing this could not restrain his blushes. He rose from his seat and expressed his thanks.

From this time Mô Ke and Yuk Noo lived together very happily, even more so than when they were first married. Hew Tih How and his wife, treated them both as though they had been their own children, and they, in return, regarded the old people with the same affection as if they had been their own parents.

The old Round Head, Kim Laon Ta continued in the happy enjoyment of his honorable office till his death.

When Mô Ke was a little more than fifty years of age he died, leaving Yuk Noo a widow. Some days before his death, he dreamt that a heavenly messenger appeared to him who addressed him thus.

"Your life was not originally appointed to end so soon, but because you formerly, without any cause or provocation, attempted to kill your wife, the anger of the Gods was roused, and they shortened your days by twelve years, and deprived you of three higher steps in rank. The preservation of your wife, and her subsequent reunion to yourself, was owing to the merciful protection of the Gods, who have lightly punished your crime."

Mô Ke upon awaking was greatly troubled, and related to his family what had been told him by this divine visitor. He very soon fell sick, and died.

The descendants of Mô Ke and Hew Tih How ever after remained united as one family.

THE END OF YUK Noo.

MUNTO, THE MONKEY GARDENER.

IN TWO PARTS.

I.

A paper by Mr. Frank Buckland on a pet Monkey, published in a recent number of "Temple Bar," brought very vividly to my mind, reminiscences of a Monkey which we had in our possession many years ago, and whose story may be interesting, as another proof of Mr. Buckland's theory, that Monkeys are gifted with a higher faculty than instinct.

It was in Malacca, about the year '44 or '45. We were sitting in the verandah one morning, taking our early cup of coffee, when some Malay men entered the compound, leading by a strong chain, a large Baboon, which they offered for sale, five dollars being the price asked. It was a formidable looking animal enough, and certainly no beauty. The face had an expression of low cunning upon it, and the limbs, especially the arms, were as big and brawny as a blacksmith's; but that was well accounted for when we learned his accomplishments. Edwin first asked the Malays why they demanded such a high price for such an ugly unprepossessing animal, and one of whom it was impossible to make a pet, when they gravely informed him that he would make a very good "head gardener!" To which profession they said he had been trained.

Now a gardener's duties in the Straits, in those days, were very different from a gardener's duties according to our English ideas, for, as nothing was cultivated there, but flowers and fruits indigenous to the climate, and as they grew almost without any cultivation whatever, a gardener's duties were principally confined to picking the produce, and this the Monkey had been taught to do most cleverly. We had some hundreds of cocoa-nut trees in our grounds, at that time, and when the fruit was ripe, the custom was to hire a Malay man to gather the nuts, he keeping a tithe of the produce as remuneration for his trouble. We thought it would not perhaps be bad economy to secure this trained Monkey, for the purpose. After we had been fully satisfied as to his capabilities, "Munto," as we afterwards named him, was put on trial, proved a great success, and we at last concluded his purchase for two dollars, little guessing, at the time, how far his capacity for evil and mischief outweighed all his accomplishments.

There was always so much "method in his madness" that we could not help being as much amused as annoyed at some of his pranks, though they often cost us dear enough. He was an anxiety to us from first to last, for we might almost as well have kept a Tiger chained up in the premises. No one dared go near him, but Edwin and the Syce, a Madras man, who made friend with Munto at once, saying he was a countryman of his. I believe they ever afterwards shared both bed and board.