doubt, be a certain quantity of "oitavas," which, at a certain rate, would yield a certain profit. There were "explorations," "shafts," "adits," "spalling floors," "workings," and "rejected killas." But for the present they only waited for a "donkeyengine" from England, which, no doubt, would soon arrive. Mr. Waddle laid the report aside in despair, and took up No. 4, which happily gave the most flourishing accounts of the Irish bogs and peats. This was decidedly reassuring, and his face brightened. Besides, what did it matter, with shares at a premium?

Yet Mr. David Waddle would fain have satisfied himself about all the technicalities in Report No. 3. He looked towards his daughter, who, as now was her wont, lay wearily back in the easy-chair beside the fire, her cheeks flushed, and her frame alternately shivering and burning. For the first time he noticed. her glazed eyes.

"Pussy, have you not a 'Johnson's Dictionary'?" A pocket edition of this most useful manual was accordingly produced. But "Johnson" had no explanations to offer of the terms employed in the "Division of Profits." Kate sat by her father, and tried to help him. At last Mr. Waddle grew impatient. It was no use, he thought, to give children a good education. He wished he had never spent so much of his money in that way. There was neither pleasure nor profit in it, and children should take some interest in what their parents undertook.

This and much more to the same effect did Mr. Waddle ponder, in reality perhaps not meaning so much poor Pussy, as inwardly addressing his remonstrances to Report No. 3. It was a pity, however, he should not have made this more clear. As long as she could, the fevered girl bore the unmerited looks and manner of reproach, the while trying to lift up her heart from earth to heaven, and to find strength to bear whatever additional trials were sent. Then of a sudden she felt all around give way, and she slid heavily to the ground.

In a moment her father and mother were by her side. Her father lifted her tenderly, and carried her gently up to her room. The burden was, alas! too light-not much heavier than when he had borne her about as a child. How these days, with their bright hopes, came back upon him, as he stood by the unconscious form of his last remaining child! Were they to lose her also? And for what then had he been working and planning? The keenness of the pang cut like a dagger to his heart.

At length colour returned to her cheeks and consciousness to her mind. With a hasty kiss, David Waddle left Kate in her mother's hands. As he returned alone to the parlour he felt increasingly uneasy. He paced the room, and pictured to himself the wretchedness that might be before them. Why had his wife never called his attention to the danger? She had been culpably negligent. Had she? And then his conscience whispered to him certain things, which somehow seemed to remove the blame from his wife. For the first time these many weeks he listened to the whisperings of conscience. For the first time since he had visited Mr. Graham's office did he entertain serious misgivings about the course on which he had entered.

Three times during the next half-hour did Mr. Waddle send Phebe upstairs to inquire after his child. Each time the reply was more reassuring. It was only a fit of weakness, from which she would

quite recover by the morning. Only a fit of weakness! That was quite a different thing from disease and death. She needed strengthening. She had not been out ever so long. There was no remedy so sure to restore strength and appetite as the fresh air. His wife had said that Pussy was not strong enough to walk much. Were there not means to enjoy plenty of fresh air without walking? Mr. David Waddle thought a while. He had found it; he had solved the problem! How happy that he had been so successful in his speculations. What a providence he had so invested! Otherwise he could not have done what he now inwardly proposed for the morrow. Let him see? What was the exact state of his funds? What could he at that moment reckon upon with certainty, according to the present state of the share-market?

Mr. David Waddle was deep in his calculations when the door suddenly opened. His wife had come back to say that Pussy had gone to sleep. Her heart sank within her when she discovered how her husband was engaged. To do him justice, he was ashamed of himself, and crumpled up the paper on which his figures had been put down.

That night, when Mr. Waddle retired to rest, he emphatically declared to his wife that all Pussy needed was fresh air, and plenty of it. He was aware she was not strong enough to walk much at present, but he would provide for that. With which mysterious assurance, thrice repeated with evident and increasing self-approbation, Mr. David Waddle blew out not only the candle, but also his own better convictions.

CHAPTER VI.--IN THE STORM.

IF Mr. David Waddle had gone to bed with a good purpose, he rose next morning with the firm determination of carrying it into immediate execution. Pussy felt better, and would be up in the course of the forenoon; and there now remained, in her father's opinion, only the use of his special remedy to perfect her cure. Fresh air, and plenty of it!

As Mr. Waddle stepped forth into the April air, he told himself never could there be a restorative like such a day. The sky was clear, the sun was bright, the ground was dry, and a sharp “bracing" wind drove down the street. Though not generally given to observation of nature, Mr. Waddle noticed approvingly that even the birds and hedges acknowledged the healthiness of the season. The robins chirped merrily, and the hawthorn and brier were bursting into leaf.

As always, Mr. Waddle's first walk was to Graham's office, where he was received with the old melancholy smile by "Puddles," who shook his hair ominously as the capitalist disappeared within his master's sanctum. Mr. Graham had good news that day. The reports of the directors had made a very favourable impression in the City. There could be no reasonable doubt that within a few days shares would be at a higher premium. The Mining Gazette" of that morning had a leading article which eloquently described the beauties of scenery amid which these new undertakings lay. After a long discussion of the various lodes, it concluded as follows: "We unhesitatingly declare there never were mines on which so much machinery has been placed; though for market purposes shares may be flattened, yet truth is great and must prevail. They may have been beared' for delivery, but we

urgently entreat our friends to lose no time in securing such prizes."

As these were exactly Mr. David Waddle's own sentiments, he cordially agreed with them, on much the same grounds that readers generally peruse and agree with " 'leading articles." What, however, was better and more to the purpose, he now felt himself greatly encouraged to proceed with his scheme concerning Pussy and the fresh air. But Mr. David Waddle would not act rashly, he prided himself on being a cautious business man, and every one knows that nothing so sharpens the wits and enables you to go on with the coolness requisite for great returns as success in speculation. Your new man always plunges headlong forward, and so exhausts himself; he has lost all his wind before the first corner is turned. But commend us to the calculating coolness of him who is accustomed to take up his gold by hatfuls. And the same rule holds good in small as in great transactions. Proceeding on this great principle, Mr. David Waddle walked along the road which led out of Greenwood with a mien quite unconcerned, apparently only bent on a "constitutional." Just on the outskirts were the premises of a saddler, coach-builder, and horse-hirer, all combined in one; and just before these premises, as good fortune would have it, was the owner of said premises himself, critically inspecting the neatest of little basketcarriages. What more natural than for said owner to tempt the rich Mr. Waddle with that basketcarriage, or what more becoming than for Mr. Waddle with modesty to disclaim the impeachment? Still, somehow Mr. Waddle allowed himself to be talked over-at least, so far as to give the basket-carriage that afternoon a trial, "for the ladies." The two ladies were to sit in front, the driver on an elevated seat behind, and the horse was to be the steadiest in the stable. Here, then, was Mr. Waddle's scheme initially realised, at no cost that afternoon, and, if it suited, at a comparatively small weekly expenditure hereafter. Why should he, David Waddle, not have a basket-carriage? With £300 a year, and a sure capital-to-be of £8,000-and that only to begin with -why should a man not indulge himself, or at least his wife and delicate daughter, with a drive? Was it not true that he had planned and wrought for them and not for himself?

Mr. Waddle was radiant as he returned to dinner, and found Pussy at table, apparently quite recovered. Not for worlds would he have spoiled the pleasure by giving them even an inkling of the surprise that awaited them. The meal was scarcely over when the expected basket-carriage rattled in upon the gravel-walk, drawn by a fat pony, and commanded by a man in what might be mistaken for a livery coat. For a few moments Mr. Waddle watched the astonished faces of his wife and daughter. Beyond that he could not contain himself, and announced at the same time the conception and execution of his pet scheme. The effect upon his hearers was grievously disappointing.

"But, David, she is scarcely strong enough to go

out."

"That's it, Ann; you always oppose all that I propose. Do I want her, then, to go out? Haven't I got the carriage to drive her out?"

But, David, the wind is so high and keen." "Then wrap all the warmer," retorted her husband, sharply.

It was evident he was disappointed and vexed. Mrs. Waddle reflected how kindly and thoughtfully he had meant it. She could not bear to seem ungrateful, or to give him what might be a needless pang, when he had so evidently set his heart upon their pleasure and good; so, not without serious misgivings, the two prepared for the drive. Shawls, comforters, and wraps of every kind were brought forth and piled up. But Mr. Waddle's face brightened, and he regained more than his former goodhumour, as he saw the ladies fairly starting off, and received the last wave of their adieu, as the basketcarriage slowly turned into a country lane.

It had been intended that the drive should last only about an hour; but it was nearly three hours before Mr. Waddle's growing uneasiness was relieved by the sound of approaching wheels. In a moment he was outside "the premises" to welcome the return of Pussy, and notice the effects upon her of "fresh air." And plenty of it, assuredly, she had had that afternoon. Wind and air, which had been sharp enough when they started, became cutting as they reached the top of a hill. This road could not be continued; they must find some sheltered lane. Down the hill rolled the basket-carriage at a rate quite incongruous to the habits and inclinations of the fat pony. It was decidedly not a comfortable drive, with an unwilling animal before, a stupid man behind, and a couple of loose reins between them. But this was not all. At a most inconvenient and exposed turn in the road the fat pony suddenly lost a shoe. Then Pussy had to hold the reins, and so could not shelter herself in her cloak from the keen blast, while the man would examine each foot of the pony separately, and then shake his head over it. As a natural consequence of the mishap, the pony was lamed, and the return journey proceeded at the pace of an ordinary funeral.

When they lifted Pussy from the basket-carriage at her father's door, her lips were colourless and her whole frame chilled. Still she tried to talk rapidly and cheerfully. They had been out a little too late; but that could not be helped. Her chief aim seemed to give pleasure to her father. Tea was brought, but failed to restore warmth to the girl; indeed, she could scarcely taste it. Her teeth chattered, then her whole frame burned. It was too evident, even to Mr. Waddle, that so far the result of his speculations and profits were not what he had proposed. That afternoon, at least, Pussy was not the better for the basket-carriage whose permanent acquisition had been the object of such careful negotiation.

When her father left the room, Kate turned piteously towards her mother, and entreated to be taken upstairs, and that her mother would not leave her that night. Would she stay beside her? Would she read and talk to her? She so longed to be a child again, and to be always with mother! She had felt it often difficult of late to pray and to read the Word of God; her mind had seemed somehow to wander. But now she would be quite different again. Would she not? Already she felt much better and much happier. All this, and more to the same purpose, she talked rapidly and in short sentences, while her mother undressed her, the while carefully trying to conceal the tears that would roll down her cheeks. Why was it that these two just then seemed to feel as if the gulf of years were once more bridged over, and they transported into the

and depressed. Then, coming close to the doctor, he said, in a low, earnest voice: "Tell me what it is; tell me everything; tell me exactly."

At last the first streaks of daylight fell in. With what longing her mother listened to the slow ticking of the clock on the stairs, and the slower measured tones in which it told the passing hours! Six o'clock! She could endure it no longer; she went to rouse her husband. Her sudden appearance and frightened look startled him even more than her words.

"David, you must go at once for the doctor." "What! for the doctor? At this hour! Why ?" "Kate is very ill. He must come immediately." How he tumbled out of his bed, dressed, and hastened into the street, and how he would not leave the sleepy servant, nor yet the reluctant doctor, till he brought him back with him-all within the space of less than half an hour-Mr. Waddle never afterwards distinctly remembered. But there was all his life long before him a vivid picture of his own breakfast-parlour, not warm and comfortable and tidy, as usual, but cold and unswept, and with a look as of a desolating calamity over the whole house. Phebe came out and in, apparently to tidy the room and to prepare for breakfast; but he heeded her not. The consultation upstairs lasted very longapparently too long. Once or twice Mr. Waddle was on the point of interrupting it; but he always shrank back just when he had set out, as if he felt himself unworthy to enter the sick-room. At last steps were heard on the stairs. It was the doctor alone. He shut the door carefully behind him, and put his hat on the table-lifted it, put it down again, and looked at it, just as if it were the study of his life how to place it most comfortably. Mr. Waddle watched his movements nervously.

"Well, doctor," he at last said, trying to look cheerful, "only a cold, isn't it-only a cold?" he entreated, as the doctor seemed unwilling to respond. Well, yes; a cold, no doubt-a very, very severe one," and the doctor took up his hat.

"A very severe one," repeated Mr. Waddle. Then, seeming to catch at the relief afforded by that very common word "cold," "But nothing morenothing more, doctor?"

"Well, I did not say precisely that," interposed the doctor. But Mr. Waddle paid no heed to the interruption.

"A few days in bed, I dare say, and plenty of warm drinks-eh?"-Mr. Waddle was trying to look facetious" eh, doctor? And then plenty of good food and fresh air-eh?"

"Hark ye!" broke in the doctor, roughly, "there must be none of that. None of your fresh air, as you call it. She has had too much of it by far. Your daughter is very seriously ill."

"Very-seriously-ill!" The words came one

For the first time these many weeks Mr. Waddle did not feel inclined to go to Mr. Graham's-did not even remember him. For the first time he tried again to compose his mind, to read the Bible, even to pray; but his thoughts went away from the Book of grace and from the throne of grace-he knew not whither; but restlessly onward, not to any definite object, but on and on, as over a wild, lonely heath, where the wind swept at its free will, where there was only one tree left, whose branches were bending, and creaking, and breaking in the wild blast.

THE

PROFESSOR JOHN TYNDALL, LL.D., F.R.S., PRESIDENT OF THE BRITISH ASSOCIATION, 1874. HE British Association meets this month at Belfast, and will be presided over by Dr. John Tyndall. Dr. Tyndall's original discoveries and success as a scientific expositor, whether as writer or lecturer, have given him an eminent place among living philosophers. The successor of Faraday at the Royal Institution, he has worthily sustained the reputation of that home of original research and brilliant illustration. Like his predecessors there, Davy and Faraday, Tyndall owes his eminence to his personal talent and untiring industry, and in not degree to the adventitious aid of fortune or patronage.

John Tyndall, though desconded from an English family, is a native of Ireland, and was born at Leighlin Bridge in the year 1820. From his father, it is said, he derived in early boyhood a taste for controversy; he read with avidity the works of Chillingworth and Tillotson, a kind of reading that may have been serviceable for intellectual growth, but not likely to be conducive to higher profit at so early an age.

He attended school in his native place, and from a teacher of the name of Con will he first derived, we are told, a taste for mathematical knowledge. In 1839 a division of the Ordnance Survey was stationed at Leighlin Bridge; and Tyndall, then at the age of nineteen, joined the Survey, and very soon acquired a practical knowledge of every part of the work.

By the advice of a friend, he planned a course of more systematic study. Next day he was at his books by five o'clock, and for the next twelve years steadfastly adhered to the practice of early morning study. Having no suitable opening in view, Mr. Tyndall was at one time on the eve of departing for America. His friends dissuaded him from this step, and engineering employment offering, he was for three years engaged in work connected with railways.

In 1847 he became for about a year a teacher in