muffins, and the blasphemous familiarity with the Deity of revival hymns; while, opposed to it, rampant secularism jeers at the notion of a Deity, and ignorantly points the finger at the word" fear," being apparently unable to comprehend that there is a holy awe which is as far removed from abject terror as the exalted paganism of Marcus Aurelius is removed from its own blatant annihilation of what it is pleased to call the superstition of a God. Vociferously its adherents denounce the God-fearing man as a puerile creature, a prey to timid superstition. Neither that orthodoxy, nor this heterodoxy would know what to make of the stern, cold religiousness, the unyielding righteousness of those ancient" God-fearing" men, any more than they could own anything to be good which lies outside the pale of their own dogmatism and their own crotchets. There were giants on the earth in those days, as Judith Conisbrough often thought, for she had a high opinion of these departed Quaker dalesmen. Where is the hero in the ranks either of secularism or orthodoxy, who will bring the same concentrated fervor to bear upon his cause; who will suffer all things and endure all things, and such things as were suffered and endured by those early Methodists and Quakers-those "Godfearing," uncultivated rustics?

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Judith left the village behind her, crossed the bridge, and took the road up the hill to the left, and now, as ever, though her heart was not light to begin with, the glorious sweep of country which met her eyes, made that heart bound. Ay, it was bonny, she often thought; it was solemn, too, this rare, unspoiled dale, this undesecrated temple of nature. She loved every foot of the road as well as she knew it, and that was by heart; she loved the quaint, bleak shape of barebacked Addlebrough, with his scar" of gray rock on the summit. She loved the three or four great hills which brooded over the other side, treeless and cold; and dear to her was the little group of very old houses shaded by a wood of broad-boughed trees, which hamlet went by the name of Counterside. She had heard her great-uncle tell how he and his sister, her mother's mother, used to go to school at a queer little brown house in the said

hamlet, trudging with hornbook and slate in hand from Scar Foot to Counterside, and back again from Counterside to Scar Foot.

Then the road grew lonelier and wilder; the birds chirped in the tangled autumn hedgerows a tiny little crested wren hopped forth and impudently nodded into Judith's face ere it flew away. The spikes of the wild arum, the "lords and ladies" of our childhood, gleamed scarlet through the lush grass. The brilliant berries and sinister beauty of the black briony cast their charm over the hedges of thorn which in spring had been a waste of hawthorn blossom. The few autumn flowers flourished-the yellow coltsfoot, the lilac scabious, the blue duckweed. But chiefest and most glorious were the red berries; what is the tale of the number of those bushes, plants, and herbs which die down in the autumn in the shape of a scarlet berry? There were the aforesaid "lords and ladies," the aforesaid black briony, and in addition to them, the spikes of the honeysuckle, the broad, flat tufts left by the wild guelder rose; the hips and the haws in their thousands, all helping to make the hedgerows a vivid mass of color.

Judith lingered because she could not. do otherwise. She was one of those people who cannot rush along such a road, without pausing or pondering. She felt it a desecration, a thankless course too, as if a beggar spurned the hand held out to him, filled with gold.

Turning a corner, she suddenly had in view on the left, and far below her, a small and lovely lake, perhaps a mile in length, of an irregular oval in shape, bordered on all sides by the great fells before spoken of, and, on its margin in many parts, by trees. From the moment in which she came in sight of it, her eyes dwelt upon it with an earnestness that was wistful in its intensity. She knew it well, and loved it, every silver foot of it, with a deep, inborn love given by the inherited tastes of generations of forefathers, who had lived and moved and had their being by the side of that fair sheet of water, in the midst of those pure and elevating natural surroundings. For it-this fairy sheet of water, this Shennamere, as it was called, an old corruption of Shining Mere"

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-and the old house at its head, of which she had not yet come in sight, were inextricably woven in her mind and fancy with all of glad and happy, of bright and pleasant, which her life had contained. There was no remembrance so far back as not to include that of Scar Foot by Shennamere. Infancy, childhood, little girlhood, young womanhood, large portions of each of these periods had been passed here, and passed happily. Influences like these must have sunk somewhat into even a light nature, and hers was no light one, but deep and earnest; calm on the outside, and undemonstrative, but capable of intensely concentrated feelings-of love and resentment keen and enduring, of suffering and patience practically unlimited for that which she felt to be worthy, noble, or right; tenacious of early impressions which colored and modified all her thoughts and feelings. Should she live to be a hundred, should she pass through the most varied, distracting experiences, to the end of her days Judith Conisbrough's heart would leap up at the sight of this mere, and the name of the beloved old house would be as music in her ears.

For about a mile the road went above the lakeside, then down a long, steep hill, with a rough stone wall at one side, and with shady trees stretching over it, till, still turning a little to the left, the back of a large house came in view; behind it ran a roaring beck; a small wood of large old trees gave it shelter-trees in which the rooks were cawing hoarsely. There was the farmyard to pass through, and the farmer's wife to greet ere she came to an old stone gateway, and, passing through it, found herself in front of the house. It was a large, fine old three-gabled house. Over the stone archway she had passed through, a slab was let in with the initials, J. A., and the date, 1667. John Aglionby of that period had built himself this house, but upon the remains of an older and a smaller one, where his fathers had lived before him. Over the doorway was a larger slab, with the same date carved on it, and "IOHN AND IVDITH AGLIONBIE, THEIRE HOVSE," above and below it.

Judith passed several windows, and paused before the door in the porch, be

fore she went in, surveying the prospect. The clouds had lifted a little, and one pale, white gleam of light stole through them, and slipped adown the side of the hill opposite, showing up the bare gray houses and stone roofs of the tiny village called Stalling Busk, and then slid gently on to the lake, and touched it with a silver finger, so that even on this dark afternoon it was veritably "Shennamere.

Raydaleside and the Stake Fell looked. black and threatening, and the clouds that were piled above them seemed big with the coming storm. From where Judith stood, a most delightful old-fashioned flower-garden, with no pretensions at all to elegance, and therefore full of the greater charm of sincerity, sloped down almost to the lakeside. There was just a paling, a little strip of green field with. a path through it, and then, the margin of the mere, with a small wooden jetty running into it, to which a boat was moored, with the name Delphine painted in white letters on its grass-green side. Many an hour had the two girls passed in it, floating about the lake, with or without their grand-uncle. Just now it rocked. uneasily; not constantly, but occasionally. The whole surface of the lake seemed to sway restlessly. It all portended a coming storm, and as Judith looked across the water, there came a sound from Raydaleside like some prolonged, weird whisper. Storm portents, all. She knew it; and as the breath of that whisper struck cold upon her face she turned to the door, and with a strange, unwonted chill at her heart, lifted the latch and walked in.

CHAPTER X.

"IN THE PLOT."

THOUGH large and solidly built, and with some pretensions to elegance outside at least, the house at Scar Foot was in reality planned more like a large farmhouse than anything else. The door by which Judith entered let her straight into a splendid old square kitchen or houseplace, with flagged floor, warmly carpeted over, with massive beams of oak, and corner cupboards and flat cupboards, wainscoting and chair rail of the same material. There were solidlooking old oak chairs, too, black, and

polished brilliantly by the friction on their seats and arms, of generations of small clothes, hands, and elbows. This room was furnished comfortably and even handsomely, but it was always used by Mr. Aglionby as a sort of hall or entrance chamber. Over the way on the right was another spacious, comfortable room, serving as a sort of library, for all the books were kept there. Up-stairs was the large drawing-room or receptionroom" the great parlor" had been its name from time immemorial. The master's own favorite den and sanctum, into which no person dared to penetrate without first knocking and being invited to enter, was a much smaller room than any of those already described, arrived at by passing through the houseplace on the left of the entrance. This little room was panelled throughout with oak.

Not finding her great-uncle in the houseplace, where a roaring fire was burning cheerily, Judith knocked at the door of the sanctum, and a rough voice from within bade her enter. She found the old man there, puffing at his "churchwarden," with his newspaper beside him, and his colley dog, Friend, couched at his feet. He looked up as she entered, and she saw with surprise that a black look darkened visibly over his face. He did not speak.

"Good-afternoon, uncle. I have walked over to see you."

'Vastly obliged, I'm sure, my dear," he replied, with the urbanity of tone which with him portended anything but urbanity of temper.

"We have heard nothing of you since our return," she pursued.

"I was at your house this morning, anyhow," he said snarlingly.

"Were you?" she said in great astonishment." Then didn't you see mother?"

"Of course I saw her."

'She did not mention your having been. How very extraordinary!"

Humph!" was the only reply. Judith seated herself, as she usually did, opposite to him, in an oaken elbowchair, and stooping to take Friend's head between her two hands, and brushing the hair from his eyes, she said, “Perhaps she will tell us about it to-night. She was tired, and went to lie down after

dinner, so she doesn't even know that I am here. I came early to save the daylight. Do you know, uncle, I think there's going to be a storm.

"

"It is more than probable that your surmise is correct," he rejoined sententiously.

"Shennamere is restless, and the wind comes moaning from off Raydaleside," she went on, keeping to commonplace topics before she approached the important one which lay near her heart, and which, after long and earnest discussion with Delphine, they had decided should be broached to-day. She was sorry to see that her uncle was not in the most auspicious mood for granting favors, but she felt it impossible now to turn back with the favor she desired, unasked, after all her heart-beatings, her doubts and difficulties, and hesitations, andshe took heart of grace-he never had refused any of her rare and few petitions. He might, perhaps, have grimaced over them a little, in his uncanny way, but in the end they had been granted always.

"I don't think I should ever care to perform on the guitar," she proceeded, though I should like to know Italian well enough. But I did not come to you with any such absurd request. It was a much more serious business that brought me here. Uncle, mamma has often told me that you are rich."

We can starve and pinch, and economize upon her income, but we can't have any comfort upon it, and it is terrible. We cannot speak about it to strangers -we don't wish to; but it is none the less misery that we live in. And I am so tired of being idle, and so is Delphine: we should like to work sixteen hours a day, if we could keep ourselves by doing so. And if you would give me a hundred pounds now, uncle, you should never need to think of spending another penny upon me as long as we both live, nor of leaving me any money when you die; nor to Delphine either. We have a proper plan. We want to work, not to waste the money. Oh uncle, dear, you know what it has cost me to ask this. Surely you won't refuse!"'

The pleading in her voice amounted to passion. She laid her hand upon his arm in the urgency of her appeal, and looked with an intensity of eagerness into his face.

Mr. Aglionby put down his pipe and rose from his chair, his face white with anger, his lips and hands trembling.

"And if she had never said so, we have heard it from numbers of other people. And mamma has often said that when you died-" she hesitated, faltered.

He removed his pipe from his mouth, and, with gleaming eyes, and lips that had grown ominously thin, relieved her from the necessity of finishing the sen

tence.

"You lasses would have my money to cut capers with, eh ?"

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Oh no, no! But that, as you had no one else to leave it to-we-you, uncle, you know what I mean; and do listen to me. You quite misunderstand me. I hope you will live for years and years-for twenty years to come. Why not? And I do not want your money. I hate to think that people point us out as being your heiresses; and when mamma talks about it it makes me feel fit to sink into the earth with shame. But uncle, you know--for you cannot help knowing--that mamma has not enough money for us to live upon.

Judith recoiled, her face pale, her eyes dilated, and gazed at him as if fascinated.

"Your precious mother has bequeathed her impudence and her slipperiness to you too, eh? A bad lot, those Arkendales, every one of them. The men were freebooters, and the women no better, and you are like the rest of them. You thought to come and wheedle something solid out of me before it was too late. I know you. I know what it is to be an old man with a lot of female vultures sitting round him, waiting for him to die that they may pick him clean. It seems some of them can't even let the breath leave his body before beginning their work. But," his voice changed suddenly from raving in a broad Yorkshire dialect to the treacherously smooth tones of polite conventionality, though I am past seventy two years of age, my dear, I am not a drivelling idiot yet, and so you may tell your respected mother on your return. And-"

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"My mother knows nothing about this," Judith said, or rather, she tried to say it. She was stunned, bewildered by the torrent of anger she had drawn upon herself, and utterly at a loss to comprehend his repeated references to some "plot," some scheme," of which he seemed to accuse her of being cogni

zant.

gotten by now the errand on which she had come, while her mind, in painful . bewilderment, sought to assign some reason for this fit of frantic anger. The accusations and the epithets he used at last roused her indignation beyond control. Raising her head, she fixed her clear eyes unblenchingly upon his face, and standing proudly upright, began in a louder, clearer voice:

Begone!" he almost shouted, with a stamp of his foot, and turning upon her with eyes that scintillated with fury; and may you never darken my doors again."

She paused a moment, for her mind refused altogether to comprehend his words. Then as some understanding of what he had said began to dawn upon her, she turned to the door, saying, in an almost toneless voice :

'Good-by, uncle. You are not yourself. You are making a dreadful mistake. Some day you will repent it."— Temple Bar.

THE WILD CAT.

AMONG animals once common in Scotland, but now nearly extinct, is the wild cat. In the forests of Germany, Hungary, and Russia, in the western parts of Asia, and in certain districts of Switzerland, these ferocious animals abound, and they are found occasionally among the mountains of Scotland, Wales, and Ireland. During the day they lurk on the branches of large trees, in the hollows of decayed trunks, or in clefts and holes of the rocks, whence at night they sally forth in quest of plunder. Hence it happens they are rarely seen, but the presence of a wild cat soon becomes apparent from the slaughter made during its nocturnal excursions. Hares, rabbits, grouse, partridges, and other creatures are stealthily seized, and the fur or feathers of the victim alone remain to mark the presence of the destroyer.

The wild cat is larger than the tame animal, being about six feet from the nose to the tip of the tail. The general color of the body is a dark gray, a dusky

black stripe running along the spine, while the sides are decorated with transverse waves of an obscure blackish-brown color. The fur is thick and deep. The animal has an abundant whisker, larger teeth than the domestic cat, and it has a yellow throat. On the face its color is a yellowish-gray passing into grayishbrown on the head, and several black stripes extend from the face between the ears to the top of the head. The strength of the wild cat is enormous in proportion to its size, and its eyes glare fiercely. Though it shuns the face of man, it turns to bay when hard pressed, darts ferociously on its assailant, aiming chiefly at the face and eyes, and using claws and teeth with vindictive fury. The female makes her nest in a hollow tree or rock, but sometimes in the nest of a large bird, produces four or five young ones at a birth, and in defence of them will face any danger.

Besides the genuine wild cat there are specimens of domestic cats that have become wild. The house cat, which through accident has lost its home, is a