ng.

"Obstinate Lord Howel persisted in refusing to take the fortune that was
waiting for him. In this difficulty, the conditions under which I was
acting permitted me to appeal to the bride. When she too said No, I was
not to be trifled with. I showed her poor Lady's Howel's will. After
reading the terms in which my dear old friend alluded to her she burst
out crying. I interpreted those grateful tears as an expression of
repentance for the ill-considered reply which I had just received. As
yet, I have not been told that I was wrong."

MR. POLICEMAN AND THE COOK.

A FIRST WORD FOR MYSELF.

BEFORE the doctor left me one evening, I asked him how much longer I was
likely to live. He answered: "It's not easy to say; you may die before
I can get back to you in the morning, or you may live to the end of the
month."

I was alive enough on the next morning to think of the needs of my
soul, and (being a member of the Roman Catholic Church) to send for the
priest.

The history of my sins, related in confession, included blameworthy
neglect of a duty which I owed to the laws of my country. In the
priest's opinion--and I agreed with him--I was bound to make public
acknowledgment of my fault, as an act of penance becoming to a Catholic
Englishman. We concluded, thereupon, to try a division of labor. I
related the circumstances, while his reverence took the pen and put the
matter into shape.

Here follows what came of it:

I.

WHEN I was a young man of five-and-twenty, I became a member of the
London police force. After nearly two years' ordinary experience of
the responsible and ill-paid duties of that vocation, I found
myself employed on my first serious and terrible case of official
inquiry--relating to nothing less than the crime of Murder.

The circumstances were these:

I was then attached to a station in the northern district of
London--which I beg permission not to mention more particularly. On a
certain Monday in the week, I took my turn of night duty. Up to four in
the morning, nothing occurred at the station-house out of the ordinary
way. It was then springtime, and, between the gas and the fire, the room
became rather hot. I went to the door to get a breath of fresh air--much
to the surprise of our Inspector on duty, who was constitutionally a
chilly man. There was a fine rain falling; and a nasty damp in the air
sent me back to the fireside. I don't suppose I had sat down for more
than a minute whe