for' told all.

honour!'

He checked himself there, but the tone

"The more need to go, if that's the case,' said Reginald, hardening himself. 'Honour! Val, 'I know it will be,' cried Val, rising and casting his arms upon the mantel-piece. He looked round with haggard eyes. "I know it!' he cried again, and dropped his head upon his arms. 'How do you know it?' asked the other, almost sternly. 'Val! you haven't-spoken to her?' 'What do you think of me?' cried the miserable Val, not daring to confess. 'But I know

it.'

'I've never been hit in this way,' said the young philosopher, laying a friendly hand on Strange's shoulder; but I suppose I shall take pot-luck with the others when the time comes. And if men and books speak the truth, the only courage is to run away, in such a case as this. Start at once. Go to Naples.'

'I'm sick of Naples,' said Val, raising his head drearily. But I'll get away somewhere, and I'll catch the tidal train to-night. Will youwill you say I'm gone?'

'Yes,' answered Reginald, moved by his friend's trouble. And Strange, look here! Stop away till it's all over. There's a good fellow. We shall have you back as jolly as a sand-boy in a few months' time. And I'll tell you what we'll do. We'll go to Bassano's and have a room to ourselves, and dine together, and I'll see you off.'

Do

you want to watch me?' asked Val bitterly.

'That's not like you,' said the little man, reaching up and putting a hand on each of his friend's shoulders. I want to cheer you up a bit.'

Strange rang his bell, and ordered his servant to pack for the continent and book for Southampton. I'll go there to-night, and start for somewhere,' he said recklessly. Come on. Let's to dinner.' He rattled away in an almost hysterical fashion until the time for parting came. But when Reginald had shaken hands with him, as the train moved from the platform, and had withdrawn his hand, he felt that there were tears upon it.

(To be continued.)

INDIAN FOREST-NOTES.

I. THE MONKEYS AND THE TIGER.

MONKEYS in their wild state are subject to many chances and vicissitudes, of which little is known save to those who have had opportunities of studying their habits and mode of life in forests and jungles. Gregarious, with the exception of a very few species, they abide in one locality as long as food and security are assured; but lack of the one or loss of the other often causes the disintegration and dispersion of a tribe or colony, so that it is not unusual to come across two or three individuals by themselves; and on such occasions it is reasonable to conclude that a tribe has met with some adverse vicissitude, that these wanderers were once the members of a considerable body, and that they in all probability now form the nucleus of what at some future date may become

again a formidable family. Of all the species found in India proper-and the monkey race is somewhat largely represented there-the greenishgray variety (Macacus rhesus) is the most interesting; and its docility, when caught young and reared with care and kindness, is remarkable. Amongst the natives of the North-west Provinces it is known by the name of bundar, and shares almost equally with the Hunuman (Semnopithecus entellus) the veneration of the Hindus.

It was amongst this species I found myself one day, on my arrival at my tent on the banks of the river Kurialli, in Upper India; and on inquiry I ascertained that a belt of forest at least twenty miles in length and three in breadth, bordering on the river, was inhabited by countless families of these creatures. Each family, consisting often of as many as thirty members, strictly retained its own individuality, and confined itself to a fixed area, where it roamed during the day and slept at night. From dawn till sunset each troop searched for seeds, fruit, and the roots of edible plants, jealously guarded by its gray-bearded patriarch; and it was amusing to watch the anxiety displayed by this individual, if by chance his family came into too close proximity with that of another. Nor was it an unusual occurrence to see the elderly heads of families engaged in a 'battle-royal,' vehemently claiming some too coquettish ladymonkey, who in the fierce heat of the combat generally escaped, in a more or less dilapidated condition, and with extraordinary agility returned to her own tribe, only, however, to be chased about and bullied by her more demure and circumspect relations.

Monkeys in general, and the above species in particular, entertain the greatest antipathy to tigers and leopards; nor is this to be wondered at, for it is these animals only that attempt to molest them; indeed, by the former, monkeymeat is considered a high delicacy. When, therefore, their domain is invaded by the stealthy tiger, and his whereabouts detected, the violence of their anger knows no bounds. High up out of the reach of their foe, they give free vent to their enmity, and with prodigious chatter assemble in all their strength upon the trees beneath which the tiger is lurking; shaking the branches with might and main, and pattering down upon and about their would-be devourer such a shower of dry sticks, twigs, and leaves, that the latter is forced, with an angry growl, to quit his lair and seek other and quieter quarters. But no peace is he allowed so long as he remains in their vicinity; and should darkness set in, these sagacious animals will, on the ensuing morning, search diligently, to see whether or not their enemy has really taken his departure.

Illustrative of this antipathy, a very strange incident came under my notice. After I had been encamped a week or so on the Kurialli, I was informed that there had been for some days past, and still was, a most unusual commotion existing among a large tribe of monkeys in a distant part of the forest, and that it must be occasioned by the persistent presence of a tiger or leopard in their immediate neighbourhood. From my previous knowledge of the habits of monkeys, I was aware that they treated other animals, such as wild-pig, deer, &c.,

with perfect indifference, and what the natives represented was probably the real clue to the state of frenzy the creatures were reported to be in. Unfortunately, I had no elephant with me on which I could with perfect safety venture to explore the place in question, which was in the very heart of the forest, and overrun with a dense undergrowth of bushes, &c. I was determined, however, to do the best I could; so, taking a thoroughly reliable gun-bearer to carry my second rifle, I set out for the scene of the com

motion.

After a while, we arrived within a comparatively short distance of the spot, where a vast concourse of monkeys, chattering and screaming, created an almost deafening clamour, as they bounded and scrambled up and down some trees clustered close together. I knew the risk I incurred in the hazardous undertaking of walking up to a tiger or leopard under such disadvantageous circumstances; in truth, the very nature of the excitement depicted on the faces of the monkeys, which from time to time I carefully noted through a powerful binocular, warned me of the description of animal that stirred their wrath. Moreover, as the air was untainted by odour and free from the presence of wheeling vultures, I felt convinced that the object of their dread was alive, hence my progress became slow and cautious to a degree; yet all the time I felt puzzled to explain why the animal remained in one spot, worried as it undoubtedly must be by the continuous shrieking of a host of monkeys overhead.

Gradually my companion and I approached to within fifty yards of the excited throng; then I became reluctant to proceed farther without again thoroughly reconnoitring the situation. With considerable difficulty I hoisted the native-a lithe, spare man-so that he was able to seize hold of the branch of a tree and swing himself into a commanding position, whence, with the aid of my glasses, he endeavoured to ascertain what was really the matter. The fellow had hardly been on the bough a minute, when he slid swiftly to the ground.

'Come along, sir,' he exclaimed; 'it is dead.' 'What is it?' I asked eagerly.

But the native was moving ahead rapidly through the jungle, and though I followed close on his heels, his reply was lost in the terrible uproar the monkeys were making. I was therefore quite unprepared for the strange sight that in a few seconds met my eyes. A full-grown tiger had jammed himself inextricably between two stout sal saplings that sprang from the same root, and widened, so that at the point where he was caught at the waist and pinned, they seemed not more than six inches apart, and perhaps five feet from the ground. The animal was quite dead, and, by his emaciated condition, had evidently succumbed to slow starvation.

Of course it is impossible to describe the exact process by which the tiger got himself into this extraordinary predicament; but the following is, to all appearances, a very likely solution. In the first instance, he must have invaded the domain of the monkeys, and in return been constantly harassed by them for some days. Finally, some monkey more daring and malevolent than his brethren, must have come a

considerable distance down one of the saplings, to vex and annoy the tiger still further; and the latter, believing he saw a chance of gratifying his resentment, and at the same time satisfying his appetite with a choice morsel, very probably made a spring at him, which Jacko probably neatly avoided. But his antagonist had proved less fortunate, and had evidently fallen between the two smooth saplings, and been caught in their embrace; and the more desperately he struggled in his efforts to release himself, the lower he sank into the fork, and the tighter and more unyielding grew the grip of the stems. Thus inextricably wedged in, harried by countless hordes of shrieking monkeys, racked by hunger, tortured by thirst, the unfortunate beast had remained imprisoned till death relieved him of his sufferings.

II.-MONKEYS MIGRATING.

Some three weeks or more after the incidents recorded above, I observed that great multitudes of monkeys began to occupy the trees which grew along the margin of the Kurialli River. By degrees the interior of the forest became entirely deserted. Then for the first time I learned that an annual migration took place, owing to the lack of food in the forest at this season of the year; for every edible particle had been searched out and devoured by these intelligent and, in this respect, industrious creatures. Yet I could hardly believe they meditated crossing the wide river; for wide it comparatively was even at this its narrowest part, where the monkeys were congregating in such vast numbers.

This information I derived from a semi-nude, wandering jogee or Hindu devotee, who, to the practice of mendicancy, added what he was pleased to term the science of astrology; and for the most part obtained a subsistence by working on the credulity of his fellow-countrymen.

'I have roamed these forest tracts for many years,' he said in answer to a question of mine, and I am bound to be present when these my children'-pointing to the throngs of monkeyscross the Kurialli, for they will need my

services.'

'Indeed,' I replied. 'Pray, tell me in what way you propose to help them.' For I naturally concluded that, during his long residence in the jungles, living as it were with wild animals for his neighbours and constant visitors, circumstances in connection with them must have come under his notice, likely to prove both interesting and curious.

'I will with pleasure, sir,' responded the native. 'You are aware there is just now a dearth in the land my children inhabit. This will continue for the space of two months, that is, till the rains set in; then the roots of the plants, &c. on which they thrive will again become plentiful. In the meantime, those that can get safely across the river will find food on that sandy expanse that you see in the distance covered with low thorny bushes, which at this period produce in perfection the sweet-tasted bher-berries.'

'But you have not told me how you will assist such vast numbers,' I remarked. 'I feel sure many will be drowned.'

'A few will no doubt lose their lives,' answered

' Journal

, 1882.

the man, 'for the river is swarming with alligators, who appear to know that my children are collecting on the banks, and are in hopes of snapping up some of them when they go down to drink. But as a matter of fact, the poor creatures are only waiting for my permission to cross. I will direct them to do so as soon as I have ascertained a propitious moment, one in which nearly all the alligators will be asleep; and they will thus be able to swim to the other side in comparative

safety.'

'You are really a remarkable man,' I said, somewhat ironically. Perhaps you will kindly let me know when you intend giving this signal, as I should very much like to watch so extraordinary a spectacle. Buksheesh, too, for yourself will be forthcoming.'

'I shall be sure to inform your honour,' replied my sable friend with much politeness; and with that he stalked importantly away.

It was probable that in bygone years the wily devotee had witnessed at least a dozen such crossings; hence it seemed to me very likely that, by accurately observing certain signs and indications in the behaviour of the monkeys, he was able to tell to a nicety the exact moment the creatures would enter the water. Using this knowledge for his own glorification, he pretended to be gifted with preternatural powers; and I had but little doubt that the ignorant and superstitious natives who lived in the vicinity were thoroughly impressed with the idea that the migration took place under his immediate superintendence and at his express word of command.

Next morning, just as the first streaks of dawn were reddening the sky, I was roused from my alumbers by a strident voice calling out, 'Sahib, I sahib !'

'What is the matter?' I exclaimed, somewhat drowsily and unamiably.

'In about a quarter of an hour I shall give my children the signal to cross. If you wish to witness the scene, you must make haste.'

In the above sentences I recognised the accents of my friend of the previous day. Springing out of bed, I dressed as quickly as I could. Very soon I emerged from my tent, and made my way to the river-bank, which was about one hundred yards or so distant.

The old devotee, full of importance, was standing on the margin with a dozen natives around him. As I approached, raising his arm impressively, he pointed hither and thither for my edification; and truly the sight was an amazing one. Lining the bank of the river for nearly half a mile on each side of me, and squatting along its edge, were thousands and thousands of uncanny-looking brown imps, varying in size from the full-grown and bearded patriarchs of families, to the tiniest of youngsters. Moreover, in the motions and gesticulations of these monkeys, I could detect symptoms of an intense, though apparently suppressed excitement. It was evident they were contemplating a step which they regarded as one of supreme moment to themselves. From the monkeys my gaze next wandered back to the mendicant. He was eyeing his children-as he called them-very intently, and with a look full of eager expectation. Then my glance turned towards the river. A thin light mist lay on the

surface of the water, which, being narrowest at this particular spot, was rather deep, and ran with a fair current. I was trying to see if I could detect any stray alligators on the qui-vive, when the loud voice of the old devotee once more rose in the air.

'Jump in, my children-jump!' he shouted, taxing his lungs to their utmost capacity; and sure enough, as though in obedience to his word of command, the long, crowded line of monkeys sprang almost simultaneously into the stream. The continuous splash they created resounded up and down the river like the roar of an Atlantic breaker on a pebbly shore. Then the next instant a myriad brown arms were seen whirling in the air like so many miniature windmills in full swing the monkey method of swimming being somewhat similar to what we term the 'hand-overhand' style.

At starting, their progress was fairly rapid, and they kept well together; but soon the pace diminished, and the weaker animals began to lag behind. Then a new and painful interest was added to the scene; the alligators seemed to become aware that something unusual was transpiring in the element they considered peculiarly their own, and the river suddenly became alive with them. Every here and there, first was seen a ripple, raised by the rush of one of these reptiles below the surface of the water, towards a struggling monkey; then a sharp anguished squeal followed as the victim vanished almost instantaneously, having been jerked under by some voracious monster; finally, the observant eye could detect a crimson stain rise to the surface, which, however, speedily mingled with the turbid current and disappeared.

Many victims must have perished in this manner; but of course the main body at length reached the opposite shore, evidently in a very weak and distressed condition, as most of them with difficulty dragged themselves up on to the low bank and out of the reach of the jaws of their hideous foes.

Of course the same painful ordeal would have to be undergone by these unfortunate creatures when the berries on the further bank became exhausted, and hunger compelled them to face renewed loss, by once more swimming back to the forest.

THE MORTLAKE PEERAGE.

CHAPTER III.-CONCLUSION.

IN this narrative, as in real life, there must be times when nothing of importance occurs. It was so for some time after the events which I have narrated. In the meantime, my young protégé was making rapid advance in his education. I never came across a more amiable or intelligent lad. As soon as I had rubbed off what I may call his nautical rust, and had coached him a little in mathematics and the classics, I sent him to reside with a clergyman who took private pupils; and I was gratified with the reports I received of his character and progress.

Months had elapsed, but I had received no answer from Lord Mortlake. At length there came a communication from his bankers. It

e

stated that the last that was known of the missing Earl was that he succeeded in crossing the Rocky Mountains, and had entered California; but after this there were no traces of him, and it was supposed that he had been murdered by the Anahuac Indians. My letters had therefore never reached him ; and after a time, believing him to be dead, Lord Mortlake's agents forwarded them, with the rest of his effects, to this country.

It was generally believed-and I must confess that I shared the belief-that Lord Mortlake was dead. There was no reason, if he was alive, for his keeping out of the way. At this juncture, the next of kin, one of the Stanhopes of Leicestershire, assumed the title, and was about to take possession of the estates, when I at once instructed my solicitors to put in a claim on the part of my protégé.

The case caused a great deal of excitement in the fashionable world; for the boy's identity, as well as his legitimacy, was hotly contested by Mr Stanhope. The fact that the register at Knutsfield had been tampered with, and that a child had died and been buried as the offspring of Mrs Stanhope, together with many other incidents which I thought were only known to myself, had somehow got to the knowledge of his solicitors-how, I could not imagine.

A case like this soon got into the newspapers, and the principal facts were freely commented on. One editor, more bold than the rest, said that doubts were entertained if the ceremony said to have been performed at Knutsfield had any existence except in the excited brain of a rather susceptible clergyman, and in the hallucinations of a woman predisposed to melancholic depressions, and a pronounced somnambulist!

I must confess that all this caused me a great deal of anxiety. I was quite convinced that the lad was the legitimate son of the Earl of Mortlake; I was quite satisfied with the evidence of Mrs Minter and Mrs Moody; but I could not help seeing that there were so many elements of romance and apparent improbability in the case, that I could not expect a judge and jury to look at it in the same light as I did. I knew that there were enormous difficulties in the way of the prosecution of this suit; but nevertheless there was to me a certain amount of fascination about it that led me on; and I felt that whatever might be the obstacles in the way, or whatever might be the costs of the suit, I should eventually prove my protégé to be the rightful inheritor of the Earldom of Mortlake.

It was at this epoch that one morning a lady was announced. I say a lady, because she gave no name the servant was instructed to say that a lady wished to see me. I bade the man usher her into my study.

The lady who entered was tall and finely formed; but she was too closely veiled for me to distinguish her features. As soon as the servant had closed the door, she raised her veil. It was the Countess of Mortlake.

'You are surprised to see me here,' she said. 'I am equally surprised to find myself in your presence. I have been taught, and I believed, that you were my enemy-that you had destroyed the evidence of my marriage, and denied that it had ever been performed. I now know

that all this is false, and I come to ask you to be my friend. I believe that you are an honest man and a gentleman, and I place myself entirely in your hands.'

I replied, that she might do so with perfect safety-that I greatly sympathised with her, and that my only wish was to serve her and her son.

'My son' she exclaimed with great emotionmy dear boy, from whom I have been so long separated. Tell me, where is he?'

He is with a clergyman, who lives near to Whitehaven. He is well and happy, and you shall shortly see him.'

She thanked me warmly; and after I had stated to her some of the circumstances under which I found the boy, as these have been already made known to the reader, I naturally expressed a wish to know something of her own fortunes since the day on which I married her to George Stanhope in the church at Knutsfield.

'Mine,' she replied, 'is a sad story; but I will make it as short as possible.'

'My father,' she said, 'was a stern, unrelenting man; and my mother was just the opposite. She was very kind to me; and it is hard to speak ill of the dead; but in truth she was but a weak woman, and did not influence my mind for any good. At the same time, though my father was a stern, proud man, he was very indulgent to me. I was an only child, and consequently a spoiled one. In a moment of weakness, I contracted, as you know, a marriage without my parents' knowledge or consent. It was not my husband's fault; it was all my own stupidity and folly. He entreated me to let him write to my father, and ask his consent; and even when we were married, he wanted me to write and tell him, and beg his forgiveness. After my mother's death, I was more than ever afraid of my father, and I felt that I dare not acquaint him with it. In due time I informed the Misses Onslow of my situation. They refused to believe my story. I had no certificate of my marriage, and they treated me with great severity; so cruelly indeed, that I was about to risk all and run away, when they discovered my plan, and frustrated it. After that, they treated me better. At this point, I wanted to send for my husband; and intended that he and I should go over to Florence to my father and ask his forgiveness. But this, the Misses Onslow would not listen to; it would ruin the reputation of their school, they said; and they so acted on my fears, that I consented to keep the marriage a secret till I returned to my father. Up to this time, I had been corresponding with my husband, through the agency of one of the servants, and had been receiving letters from him by the same means. by, however, his letters became less frequent, and at length ceased.'

By-and

The lady was here much affected; she buried her face in her handkerchief and sobbed audibly. After a little while, she mastered her emotion, and went on with her narrative. 'I then wrote a long and pathetic letter to my husband; but he never answered it, and at last went to India, and deserted me.'

'Were you really made to believe that he had deserted you?' I asked.

'I was,' she replied. 'But why do you ask such a question?'