r's
face when he opened the door. The steward inquired for the Duke.

The man's voice was subdued as he replied: 'Sir, I am sorry to say that
his Grace is dead! He left his room some time in the night, and wandered
about nobody knows where. On returning to the upper floor he lost his
balance and fell downstairs.'

The steward told the tale of the Down before the Vicar had spoken. Mills
had always intended to do so after the death of the Duke. The
consequences to himself he underwent cheerfully; but his life was not
prolonged. He died, a farmer at the Cape, when still somewhat under
forty-nine years of age.

The splendid Marlbury breeding flock is as renowned as ever, and, to the
eye, seems the same in every particular that it was in earlier times; but
the animals which composed it on the occasion of the events gathered from
the Justice are divided by many ovine generations from its members now.
Lambing Corner has long since ceased to be used for lambing purposes,
though the name still lingers on as the appellation of the spot. This
abandonment of site may be partly owing to the removal of the high furze
bushes which lent such convenient shelter at that date. Partly, too, it
may be due to another circumstance. For it is said by present shepherds
in that district that during the nights of Christmas week flitting shapes
are seen in the open space around the trilithon, together with the gleam
of a weapon, and the shadow of a man dragging a burden into the hollow.
But of these things there is no certain testimony.

Christmas 1881.

A COMMITTEE-MAN OF 'THE TERROR'

We had been talking of the Georgian glories of our old-fashioned watering-
place, which now, with its substantial russet-red and dun brick buildings
in the style of the year eighteen hundred, looks like one side of a Soho
or Bloomsbury Street transported to the shore, and draws a smile from the
modern tourist who has no eye for solidity of build. The writer, quite a
youth, was present merely as a listener. The conversation proceeded from
general subjects to particular, until old Mrs. H--, whose memory was as
perfect at eighty as it had ever been in her life, interested us all by
the obvious fidelity with which she repeated a story many times related
to her by her mother when our aged friend was a girl--a domestic drama
much affecting the life of an acquaintance of her said parent, one
Mademoiselle V--, a teacher of French. The incidents oc