similar circumstances, could be thus precisely the same, not only in action but to the very turn of a phrase. A very nice question, and not a little curious, seeing how slight is the connexion between

these two events.'

"It is a strange story; but events are sometimes linked together in a way that it is not in our power to explain at once, though time may throw light on the connexion, and perhaps it will. To you, as a medical man, who hear more of the private affairs of families than many of its own members, and habitually preserve the confidence of strangers inviolate, I can speak as freely as to my friend De Fleury. Without preface, then, let me ask, does your professional glance enable you to say sometimes whether a man is guilty or not?"

"I will admit frankly that it does. I was once summoned to a murdered man. The person who came to fetch me was a labourer; I noticed from his gait that he was left-legged, that meant lefthanded as well. There was a manner with him that roused my suspicion. I spoke of it to my assistant. Aided by my first impression, I found out that no right hand could have inflicted the wound. This circumstance, corroborated by other evidence, convicted that very man."

"It was very singular, and it leads me on to ask you, in confidence, whether anything about Master has set your mind at work in the same way?""

"Allow me, for the present, to reserve my answer; it is one that I should decline to state in court, because a man is not called upon to enter on such inquiries, and if he does so involuntary he is extremely liable to err."

"Before you are prejudiced by what further I have to say, you will perhaps write the answer in your note-book."

"That I will do willingly, and perhaps one day I may have no scruple in showing it to you."

Mr. Travers took out a memorandum-book, and wrote half a dozen lines in it.

"As De Fleury, my trusty friend, is well aware”—and the baronet gave the count his hand in a way that brought a film over the young man's eyes that was soon on his noble moustaches"the loss I have now to bear puts Master in my son's position. With that shot the reversion"-here the baronet took an accountbook from his drawer and opened it-" of sixty-three thousand pounds per annum-never mind the odd figures-changes hands. Master is now the heir. If he is innocent, his position is a very painful one, and I would, in such an event, be the first to support him by every means in my power. I am now going to pay you a compliment that your delicate justice has just prevented your pay

ing me. I mean to tell you my mind. I have no doubt that Master has murdered my son in cold blood!"

Mr. Travers drew himself a little back; he had a mild, polished manner. De Fleury remained motionless, as his own thoughts had anticipated this announcement.

Sir Jacob then went on to justify his suspicions:

"Circumstances are at this moment coming to light which show plainly that Master has lived for seventeen years or more behind a mask; one so well fitted, that none of his family has suspected him of the falsehood he has practised. The bishop, his father, is deceived in him to this hour; such is my belief. Until within a few days I was myself ignorant of his character, and I am not easily taken in, though on this occasion I admit that no man could have been more thoroughly duped than myself.

"The way in which I have arrived at this discovery is singular in the extreme. De Fleury is acquainted with the whole matter, and he will tell you all; let me, then, leave out the intricate chain of evidence that has led me to a certain knowledge of his baseness. It involves facts so apposite, yet so contradictory, that no jury could entertain them; indeed, few less interested than myself would have patiently waded through them. There is a loop-hole artfully devised at every turn of his career, and every plot is so contrived that it is like a medal with innocence on the face of it, and guilt on the reverse. However, let me omit details here, and sum up in a few sentences the charges against Master.

"De Fleury knows them. I sat up last night with my worthy friend and told him what a few days had brought to light, not dreading that the crowning act of villany was at that hour planning itself in Master's heart. Why did I not speak out plainly, and tell him that he was henceforth disowned? Why did I not drive him from my home? Had I deserved the name of a man, I should have let him know openly how a woman claimed him as her husband, a youth as his father. A lovely wife whom he had deserted and endeavoured to destroy, with his own boy hanging at her breast! Not satisfied with this, he has attempted to decoy the child; and now that his many failures are complete, and no other means of escape remained for him, he stopped inquiry by laying all his crimes at his brother's door.

"I subjected him to a trial, however, under which he broke down, despite his hypocrisy, and it was then that I should have driven him from these doors. He was here as a suitor to my daughter, and when the prospect of success in gaining so high a prize had vanished, he saw one way only left to retrieve his fortunes the grandest scheme of all.

"But, my friends, he who has robbed me of my son has yet to

enter the lists. He shall share no peace until he acknowledges his former crimes and accepts their burden; and should he be truly guilty of this last deed, the confession shall be yet wrenched from him.'

"Your situation is indeed worse than could have been believed; it is devoid of consolation. Would that I could serve you! Tomorrow Count de Fleury and I will enter on these subjects afresh, and we will sift this last sad event to the bottom. The first thing to be done is to examine the ground where the accident took place."

"I am very anxious that you should do that. De Fleury will assist you, and give you particulars that I am incapable of supplying you with in my present state of mind.

"Good night. I will now go to my daughters."

ON THE LOSS OF H.M.S. "CAPTAIN."

BY MRS. BUSHBY.

THE wind was fresh'ning, and the rising sea
Betokened a wild night-but all were free
From thought of danger, and the fleet rode o'er
The waves, regardless of their threatening roar.
'Twas a proud scene which Britain's naval might
Displayed, that ne'er to be forgotten night!
The splendid ships, each with its gallant freight,
Appeared beyond the reach of adverse fate;
The thunders of the billows and the gale,
Of coming ill told no prophetic tale.
At sunset all were safe, a watery grave
Undreamed of by those hearts so bold and brave.
When morning dawned, a noble ship was—where?
Not where it lay at eve-no, no! not there-
But down beneath the raging, treacherous deep-
Oh, horror! it had sunk! From nature's sleep
What numbers passed into the sleep of death,
No time to sigh a prayer with their last breath!
It sank without a sign, without a sound,
To warn the glorious fleet that clustered round!

How sad that he* whose energetic mind
After ten years of struggling against blind
And jealous opposition, when, with pride,
He saw his views triumphant, should have died!
No blame to him† who had the chief command
Can be attached; his name shall ever stand
Upon the honoured list of those whom most,
As her best sons, will be Britannia's boast.
Alas for him, for them, on all of whom

Such swift destruction came! Their awful doom
A startled nation mourns. But who shall dry
The tears of those bereft? That God on high
Who called the loved, the lost, to brighter spheres,
Away from earth-born hopes, and cares, and fears!

A few survived to tell the dreadful truth
How perished in their manhood's prime, or youth,
The rest, now lying in their sandy beds,

With ocean's wild waves sweeping o'er their heads.
Few relics of the fated ship have come
To give the world their testimony dumb,‡
But these confirm the melancholy tale,
And further search would be of no avail,
For the vast deep but seldom yields its prey.

When the loud trumpet's blast proclaims that day
The last of mortal life, and sea and land
Shall into chaos pass, by God's command,
"Twill matter not from whence the dead arise
To meet their Lord and Judge above the skies!

*Captain Cowper Coles, R.N.

† Captain Hugh Burgoyne, R.N., V.C.

Captain Commerell, R.N., V.C., C.B., of H.M.S. Monarch, a personal friend of the lamented Captain Burgoyne, picked up, at the extremity of Cape Finisterre, the pendant and ensign-staff of the ill-fated Captain. Th ship's ensign was hauled down at sunset on the 1st September, at Vigo Bay, never to be rehoisted. The Captain sank on the night of the 6th September.

STRAY THOUGHTS AND SHORT ESSAYS.

VI.

HYPOCRISY AND RELIGION.

When hypocrisy prevails, it is a sign that religion flourishes. Hypocrisy is the leaves, religion the fruit. Hypocrisy is the shadow projected by religion. Where there is little of hypocrisy there will be little of religion. There was but little of hypocrisy during the Reign of Terror in France. There was much of it in England during the Commonwealth; but there was also much religion. Hypocrisy has been termed the homage which vice pays to virtue; now, where the homage is paid, the object of that homage must be present. There is more hypocrisy among women than among men, but then there is more religion; a fact which confirms my original position.

CALVINISM AND ARMINIANISM.

It is wonderful that any man of combined piety and intelligence should have been a Calvinist of the type of Dort, and should have gone with approval into those presumptuous speculations, which seem to be even profane when we consider the Divine attributes, and to have a licentious tendency in respect to man's duties. What have we to do with the secret counsels and decrees of the Most High?

Viewed in one aspect, Calvinism is a metaphysical theory, devised to account for the co-existence of Divine foreknowledge with human responsibility; to account, too, for the original differences between individuals; and, in fact, to give reasons why one man is not another man!

The Arminian system is not more satisfactory in solving the mystery, for, as it has been well observed, there is as much difficulty in understanding why one man should choose God and another reject Him, as in understanding why God should choose one man and reject another.

The Calvinistic system creates other difficulties than that which it pretends to solve. The Arminian system only shifts the

difficulty.

The question, What determines the human will? is a question which has often exercised the human mind, and must always exercise it in vain. It was a congenial topic to the schoolmen, in one of whom, Thomas Aquinas, we find nearly the same system as that which we call Calvinistic. The Stoics were fatalists; so