case. So I went up and saw her. She was dreadfully thin, and her eyes bright and far back in her head. The baby was lying in a cradle by the fire-such a little bit it hardly kept the room warm.

"'Esther,' says I, 'do you know me?' "She looked up and saw me.

"Ben!' says she, and then fainted off dead in her chair.

"I took some water out of the basin, and sprinkled her face a bit, undid the top hooks of her gown, and took off her bit of velvet round the neck. She came to, and broke out:

"Oh! Ben, Pen! I've done wrong. I know it, but I've suffered punishment. I've not seen him now for four months, come Wednesday, and the child's a month old to-morrow. Oh, Ben! I know I've done wrong. You must forgive me; he was such a handsome man and so fond of me. I know he didn't mean to wrong me."

'It was a queer notion of her's that I should forgive her 'cause he was such a handsome chap. I was, rather, till the small-pox spoilt my phiz. I says to her:

"Esther, you've done wrong, I know, but it's not for me to punish you. God has begun that, and there ain't wanting them as be willing enough to help Him any other way. I'm sorry for you, Esther. I'm not going to blame you, I want you to go home again.'

"Esther, they won't curse you, I know. I found 'em mad enough when I went to them first. but I went to the new curate, who was just come to the place instead of old Jenkins, and told him about it, and he came down to see them and read them that chapter about the prodigal son and about the lost

"No, no, Ben! I can't do that. Why, all the girls of the old place will mock me.'

"Says I. I can't help it, Esther; but think of the old man and the old woman at home. I came home three months ago, and have been looking for you ever since. I saw them not two weeks back, and, if you'd have heard 'em ask if I'd found vou, you'd go back.'

"I can't--they'll curse me! I know they will. I can't go back. Father was so looked-up-to amongst them all. No, Ben! I can't go back.'

sheep, and talked to 'em, and old mother cried -I saw him wipe his eyes too-so they won't curse you. Come, Esther, go back with me--do now.'

Back with you, Ben? No, not that. Why, they'd speak against me, Bensay I was soon suited again.'

"Go back, then, anyhow, won't you? I tell you if you don't, you'll kill the old folks.'

"She began to hesitate at this, so I left her to herself a bit, for I know enough of woman-kind to know that when they hesitate it's best to let 'em

alone-let 'em seem to choose of themselves.

"Well, she agreed to go at last then came another difficulty-she was a fortnight behind in rent. I told her I would lend her some money. I knew she would not take it as a gift, so I made her sign a paper for it, and she paid, and next day we came home. I took her to the old folks, and then left them all together I was not one of the family, you know. After a day or two I went down, and then they were all gratitude to me. I took it all as matter-of-fact as possible, though I could have blubbered my eyes out. Then came another hitch: they had inquired, and no one would employ her. I hadn't thought of this, but I didn't say anything about it, then; but when I left I went to the curate again. I don't know what made me take a fancy to him, for I was not a regular pious man, never could see it that way as some people do: I suppose we ain't made all alike; but one day I saw him pick up a child that had tumbled down in the road just outside the village, pull out his white handkerchief and wipe the mud off its knees and hands, then find a clean place to wipe its eyes with, and give it a penny, I suppose, and then walk a little way with it back, holding his hand. I didn't know then he was the curate, for his clothes were not black, but a sort of reddish grey; no white choker either, but just a sailor's knot and the ends flying. Well, thinks I when I heard who it was, that beats mehis white handkerchief too--he's the sort of Christian I like: so I went to hear him at church and I liked him there too. Well. as I was saying, I went to him next day about eleven o'clock; he asked me in, and his wife was sitting there. She was a little grey-eyed woman, very pale and thin, more like a little girl than a woman, till you noticed her.

"Alice. dear, this is Mr. Stevens, that I told you about.'

"I remember: I hope you found her, Mr. Stevens.'

"'Yes, ma'am, I have-I've come about her.'

"Sit down, Ben,' says he. I do like a fellow who calls you by your Christian name-seems more friendly than Mr. So I sat down. 'Now, what can we do for you. eh?"

"I told him that nobody would employ her here, as she'd lost her character, and that her father and mother could not keep her, though she might live with them. So I asked him if he'd mind paying her to make shirts for a man in Liverpool I knew? He'd pay sixpence each for the making of the shirts, and I'd leave her my half-pay, for I made up my mind to go for a long voyage, if he'd make it out so that it should seem as if she was earning more for the shirts than the sixpence, for I knew she'd never take the money of me. Well, he agreed to do it. 'For,' says I, 'I think we are all of us too much down on a woman when she goes wrong. What would it be,' says I, if people were to serve us men in the same way? A good many of us would have to beg."

"Ben,' says he. 'you're quite right!' starting from his chair rather excited like you're all right, man!' and he groaned as if he was in pain.

He

"My dear Walter,' said his wife, and she put her hand on his shoulder. sat down trembling like.

"I meant no offence,' says I, 'none sir. I'

"No, Ben, I know it; but a random shot tells sometimes.'

"I noticed that she'd let her hand slide down from his shoulder, and had caught hold of his hand with both hers. She was sitting just a little behind him, as he sat back in the easy chair. She thought I could not see in the shadow of the chair, but I could see, and she was holding his hand as hard as she could.

'No, Ben,' says he; 'but we're none of us better than we should be, and ought therefore to be less harsh than we are. I've no reason to complain though, thank God.' He turned and looked back at her.

"I never saw such a change cor over a woman's face before. She opened

her grey eyes and looked at him in a way that put me in mind of a flash of sheet lightning in the twilight in summer-when it's not quite dark, you know-and the light of it makes it seem as though day was come back again. I never saw such a look; it said as plain as words, she knew all, and forgave him. It did me good, did that look, and when I've been inclined to joke about women being censorious and fault-finding, I've thought of it. I think she must have had what some women would call 'good cause' to find fault, from the way he spoke, but she didn't. So they agreed to give Esther my half-pay, so that she should think it came from the shirts.

"I went down to Esther just before I left to say 'good-bye', and tell her about the work.

"Esther,' says I, 'I'm going a long voyage-perhaps four years-whaling. You know I went two or three voyages before. Now don't leave the old folks again, there's a good girl. You'll never find that-'

"I was going to say 'fellow,' but I didn't; for you can't do yourself more harm in a woman's eyes than to call her lover names

"You'll never find Fitzjames unless he comes back here, I know; so don't leave them.'

"Ben,' says she, and the tears were in her eyes, 'you've been a friend to me. 'I'll never forget it. I know he'll come back-I'm sure of it, and if he don't I'll never marry another man. He never meant to do me a wrong like this, I know. He got intom ischief through drink-he never meant me to come to this, I know.'

"God bless you, Esther. Good bye.' "She came up to me, put her arms round my neck and kissed me.

"Ben, says she, 'you always seem like a brother to me-always did, and that's why I kiss you. You've been a good brother to me; I wish you'd never have tried to be more.'

"Good-bye, Esther', and I kissed her for the first time in my life."

My friend, Ben Stevens, has a cough

which obliges him to use his handkerchief now and then. The red and yellow bandana was in vigorous action for a few seconds now.

"So I determined to go on a whalingvoyage, as that was the hardest life I knew, and hard work keeps a man from thinking of himself and his feelings. Taking in the foresail with a north-east gale blowing, don't leave a fellow much time to look inside himself, neither does harpooning, when you like to do it like

a man.

"Well, I went, you see, to Aberdeen and shippedf or mate in the 'Belle of Aberdeen', Captain Macaulay. We left in March and reached Cape Farewell about the middle of April, but as the wind fell dead as we left the harbor we got into the Spitzbergen drift, and were carried with it as far as 66 degrees north; then we met with a regular northeriy breeze that chilled you through to sniff it.

"Of course it froze us up, being early in the season, and there we were till nearly the end of May, the wind north. the whole time.

"One morning, after breakfast, the captain says to me:

"Mr. Stevens, there's a little west in the wind this morning; it may go round south, so that we can get out of this perhaps if the ice breaks up with it.'

"I was in the nest this morning', said Cummins, our second-mate, and it seemed to me that that shore-lane reached open water.'

"Might be worth while to cut a bit to get into it, in case this don't get southerly', said the captain.

"Might be worth while to track it and see. We could get some game perhaps if we didn't find what we want about the lane', says I.

"That's true,' says the captain. 'We'll see how the wind is in an hour, and then get up a party to go.'

"The wind shifted a little to the north'ard, so we got up a party; the captain, of course, couldn't leave the ship, so I was the one, and he told me to take my pick of the men.

(Continued in next number.)

THE footprints of this people may now

be seen over the whole southwestern portion of the continent, up and down the valleys of its rivers, and there are indications that they roamed over the northern portions too, from certain developments made on or near the line of the Northern Pacific Railway; but their great capital, where they crystalized themselves in marble, which has survived their ruin and fall, was the isthmus, washed by two oceans, and which commanded the commerce of the world.

It is believed that the mound-builders and the Toltecs were one and the same people. Mr. J. D. Baldwin, in a valuable work called "Ancient America," and to which I refer the reader who is curious in these matters, argues the question with considerable ingenuity. Dr. Foster, in a later work, inclining to the same opinion, thinks that they they passed as colonists up the Mississippi, built their cities, mounds, inclosures, intrenchments; cleared up forests; mined the earth; organized governments, had their religions and laws, and possibly through wealth and luxury, were finally driven back again by the Chisinecs, which may or not be the name by which the Indian tribes were then known; but at all events a savage people, too strong for the demoralized race they assailed and finally conquered.

If the Toltecs of Central America and mound-builders were one, what is the history of the former? When did they people that country, and whence did they come? Baldwin, in his valuable work, already cited, has examined the various theories on the subject.

There is "The Lost Tribes of Israel" theory, he says, (started by the Spanish monks and supported by Lord Kingsborough,) who it is claimed left Pales

II.

tine and crossed Behring Straits, and established this civilization. This was about 700 years before Christ. There does not seem to be any evidence to support this claim, but it rests mainly on speculation.

There is the "Malay" theory. The Malays, away back in pre-historic times, were a great people, over a great empire. This empire was described by travelers 600 years before the first voyage to India by the Cape of Good Hope. It had ships, and its islands were so numerous, that the fastest vessel, it was said, “was unable to go round them in. two years." Its metropolis was in the island of Java, where the ruins still show great architectural beauty, and even splendor. Wallace says they surpass those of Central America and even India. The remains of a city called Modjo-pohit are very wonderful. The ships of the Malay, it is supposed, sailed as far as Central America, and the old books already referred to, as well as the traditions of the Aztecs, say that centuries before. they were visited by a foreign people, who came in ships. But Baldwin says that the theory does not hold out, as there is nothing Malayan in either the antiquities or speech of the early Americans.

The Phoenician theory is also very popular. Those maritime rovers who spread their sails in the face of the Greek philosophers, who despised commerce, and planted colonies on the shores of the Mediterranean, are supposed to have explored that "extensive ocean" so much talked about by the people of their day, and to have visited. that "great Saturnian Continent," which in some way had been brought to their notice, and in the existence of which they fully believed. The Phoenicians were great navigators, and may have. sailed up and down the great rivers,

while the Egyptian kings were building their pyramids; but it has always been. possible to track them and their works by their language, and there is not a Phoenician word or letter to be found on a monument in Central America, or a sign or symbol remaining there which points to that nation in any way as its origin.

One of the most romantic yet probable theories of the origin of the Chihaus, or Toltecs, is the "Atlantis" theory. There is just enough mist hanging over it to render it bewitching, and to stimulate the explorer into a wild enthusiasm. This theory attributes the civilization of Ancient America to the Atlantides or Atlantic race, who once occupied the lost island of Atlantis. It is supposed, and there is very much tradition and history to be found among the older nations of the earth to confirm the supposition, that this continent of ours once extended from New Granada, Central America, and Mexico, partly across the Atlantic, and was a part of what is now known as the Canary, Madeira, and Western Islands, and on beyond these islands was still a large tract of fertile country. It is supposed that the whole was sunk by earthquakes, and that the West Indies and other islands were mountains whose peaks are still out of water, monuments of the destruction around them.

There is considerable evidence to be found corroborating this theory, wild and poetical as it seems. The old Central American books allude to the tradition of a catastrophe of this kind, and it was maintained among Central Americans themselves, when Cortez first overran the country. One of their festivals, celebrated in the month Izcalli, commemorated this terrible destruction. The tradition declares the continent was once extended as stated, and was destroyed by a succession of frightful convulsions. To use the language of this tradition: "The land was shaken by frightful earthquakes, and the waves of the sea combined with volcanic fires to overwhelm and engulf it." Most of the

inhabitants were destroyed, some escaped in ships, and some fled to the mountains.

This history of Atlantis is also found. in the annals of Egypt. It is stated in Plutarch's "Life of Solon", that while in Egypt "he conferred with the priests of Persepolis, Heliopolis, and other cities, and learned from them the story of Atlantis." Plato makes a record of it; speaks of a great army, which came across the Atlantic sea, and invaded Europe and Asia; speaks of the island of Atlantis; that "three kings reigned there, with great and marvelous power"; says their power at one time extended into Lydia and into Europe as far as Tyrrhenia. "Afterward," says Plato, "in one day and one fatal night, there came a mighty earthquake, and inundations, which engulfed that warlike peopie Atlantis disappeared beneath the sea, and then that sea became inacessible, so that navigation on it ceased, on account of the quantity of mud which the engulfed island left in its place." It is supposed that Atlantis was destroyed before Athens became a city, and therefore it is only groping among shadows, but still not without a considerable evidence, traditionary and otherwise, to establish this strange and startling theory.

And so it is supposed that the survivors of this catastrophe fled inland and planted themselves on the isthmus now known as Central America. That they were distinguished in arts and sciences, that they built mighty works there, that the Toltecs succeeded them, and that they are the Mound-builders, the remains of whose works are strewn far and wide, up and down our streams and valleys.

Strange that Time, omnipotent as it is, can thus destroy the history of a nation, turn its language into a mysterious collection of characters which may never be read, and its monuments into puzzles to perplex antiquarians; so that not one reliable link between the present and its past, can be found, to determine from whence its people came, and whither they went!