THE GARDEN OF HEART'S DELIGHT.

New Zealand Herald, Volume XLIII, Issue 13134, 24 March 1906, Page 3 (Supplement)

THE GARDEN OF HEART'S DELIGHT.

BY LOUIS TRACY, Author of "The Final War," Rainbow Island," The Albert Gate Affair," etc., etc., etc. [COPYRIGHT.] CHAPTER I. And is there care in heaven? —Spenser's " Faerie Queene." "Allah remembers us not. It is the divine decree. We can but die with His praises 011 our lips; perchance lie may greet us at the gates of Paradise!" Overwhelmed with misery the man drooped his head. The stout stall' he held fell at his feet, lie lifted his hands to hide (lie anguish of eye and lip, and the grief that mastered him caused long-pent-up tears to well forth. His resigned words, uttered in the poetic, tongue of Kluirussiui, might have been a polished verse of Sa'adi were they not the out]K)uring of a despairing heart. The woman raised her burning eyes from the wailing infant clinging to her exhausted breast. •"Father of my loved ones," she said, "let you and the two boys travel on with the cow. If you reach succour return for me and my daughter. If not it is the will of God, and who can gainsay it'/" • The mail stooped to pick up his staff. But his great powers of endurance, suddenly enfeebled by the ordeal thrust upon him. yielded utterly, and lie .sink helpless by the side of his wife. "Nay, Mihr-ul-nisa, sun among women, 1 shall not leave thee," he cried passionately. "We are fated to die; then be it- so. 1 swear by the Prophet naught but death shall sever us, and that not for many hour's." So to the mother, uselessly nursing her latest born, was left the woeful task of pronouncing the doom of those she held dear. I'or a little while there was silence. The pitiless sun. rising over distant hills of purple and amber, gave promise that this day of late July would witness 110 relief of tortured earth by the long-deferred monsoon. All Nature was still. The air had the hush of the grave. The greenery of trees and shrubs was blighted. The 'bare plain, the rocks, the boulder-strewed bed of the parched river, each alike wore the dust-white shroud of death. Far-off mountains shimmered in glorious tints Which promised fertile glades and sparklinrivulets. But the promise was a lie, tie lie of the mirage, of unfulfilled hope." . These two, with their offspring", had journeyed from the glistening slopes on the north-west, now smiling with the colours of the rainbow under the first kiss of the sun. They knew that the arid ravines and bleak passes behind were even less hospitable than the lowlands in front Knowledge of what was past had murdered hope tor the future. They had almost teased to struggle. True children of the .bast, they were yielding to Kismet. Already a watchful vulture, skilled ghoul of desert obsequies, was describing great circles in the molten sky. the evils of the way were typical of their bygone lives. Beginning in pleasant places they were forced into the wilderness. The Persian and his wife, Us beg Tart re of Teheran, nobly born and nurtured, were now poverty-stricken and persecuted because one of the warring divisions of Islam had risen to power in Ispahan. " It shall come to pass," said Mahomet, that unpeople shall be divided into thrce-and-seven-ty sects, all of which, save only one, shall have their portion in the lire!" Clearly, these wanderers found solace in the beliefs held bp- some of the condemned seventytwo. '

Striving to escape from a land of narrowminded bigots to the realm of the Great Mogul, the King of kings, the renowned Emperor ot India—whom his contemporaries, fascinated by his gifts and dazzled by his magnificence, had styled Akbar " the Great"—the forlorn couple, young in years, endowed with remarkable physical charms and high intelligence, blessed with two fine boys and the shapely infant now hugged by the frantic mother, had been betrayed not alone by man but by Nature herself. At this season the great plain between Herat and Kandahar should be oil-sufficing to the needs of travellers. Watered by a, noble river, the Helmund, and traversed by innumerable streams, it was reputed the Garden of Afghanistan. Pent in the bosom of earth, all manner of herbs and fruits and wholesome seeds were ready to burst forth with utmost prodigality when the rain-clouds gathered on the hills and discharged their gracious showers over a soil athirst. But Allah, in His exceeding wisdom, had seen fit to withhold the fertilising monsoon, and the few resources of the exiles had yielded to the strain. lirst their small flock of goats, then their came had fallen or been slam. the cow, whose daily store of milk dwuidl ed under the lack of food. The patient animal, lean as the Line of the seven years of famine in Josephs dream, was yet tit to walk and wny the two bovs, whose sturdy limbs had bh unk . and weakened until they could no J Ol ti be trusted to toddle alone even on he k*el ground. She stood now, regal ding _ net companions in suffering with her big violet : MUX 1 Jhe man o f ate - . ah Beir Wllfi ' us The r.r-sian-M A » m<u . name -was assured . . d Vcad, lb. cU i a tew more days tni> . cl ty of tivated region _ donuna p- rioc l Kandahar. Iheie, c i,., r ;tv of the East of want, the boundless dianty ot t would save them mother. But the infant was ' of Sho demanded the whole me, z breast the husband wrought .with the at her That four ■"'S'" sic . « "i« dreadful Due should die. 'trembling it last. And .•diet he put forth ie strong man ,>v,. when him 1:1 " mlsy pven th'- all-powerful instinct nS«y e She *-» *•«" M 1 yield" v^l l usbamlTake her, in Cods name and do with her as secmetl. bUt. Not for self - but for thee a " for rS!T himself "stronger and sterner thai ho was Mirza Ah Peg rose to his feet But his heart was as lend, and his hands shook as he fondled the warm and almost plump body ot the infant He was a man indeed distraught. V. U , e "| husband and wife who shall say which ha (ho more grievous burthen? With a frenzied prayer to the Almightj for help lie wrapped a linen cloth oyer the infant's face, placed the struggling little form among the roots of a tall tree, and left it there. Bidding the two boys, lark-eyed youngsters aged three and live, to cling tightly to the pillion oil the cows back, he took* the halter and the staff in his right hand, passed his left arm around the emaciated frame of his wife, and, in this wise, the small cavalcade resumed their journey. Kver and anon the plaint of the abandoned infant reached their ears. The two children, without a special reason, began to cry. The mother, always turning her ho.d, wept with in« leasing violence. hven the poor cow, wanting food and. water, lowed her distress. The man, striving to compress his tremulous lips, strode forward, staring into vacancy. He dared not look behind. He knew that the feeble cr'es ot the by girl would ring in his ears until they >vere closed to all mortal bounds. He

took no note of the rough caravan track tivey.. followed, marked as it was. by the ashes of camp fires and the whitened bones of pack animals. With all the force of a masteiful nature he tried to stagger on and on, until the tragedy was irrevocable. But the woman, when they reached it, point where the road curved round a huge rock, realised that the next onward step would shut out from her eyes for ever the sight of that tiny bundle lyine in the roots of the tree. "So she choked°ba.ck her sobs, swept away her tears, gave one last look at her infant, gasped a word of fond endearment and fell fainting in the dust. Amidst the many troubles and anxieties of their four months' pilgrimage she had never fainted before. Though she was a cr * lan ,ad >' of utmost refinement and great accomplishments she came of a hardy rate and her lina' collapse imbued her husband with a. stoicism hitherto lacking in Ins despair. ° " his, then, is the end," said he. " Ts e /i so \. I can strive against destiny 110 further.

Tenderly he lifted his wife to a place where sand offered a softer couch than the rocks on which she lay. 1 must bring the infant," he muttered aloud. " The touch of its hands will revive her. lien I shall kill poor Deri (the cow), and wo can feast on her in the hope that some may pass this way. Walk, three to carry, we cannot. * This was indeed'the counsel of desperation. The cow, living, provided their sole link with the outer world: dead she maintained them a little while. Soon the scanty meat she would yield would become uneatable, and they were lost beyond saving. Nevertheless, once the resolve was taken a load was lifted from the man's breast. Bidding the elder boy hold Deri's halter he strode back towards the infant with eager haste. As he drew nearer he thought lie saw something black and glistening amidst the soiled linen which enwrapped the little one. After another stride he stood still. A 1 flesh tribulation awaited him. Many times [girdling the child's limbs and body was a hideous snake, a monster whose powerful coils could break the tiny bones as if they were straws. The flat and ugly head was raised to look, at him. The beady black eyes seemed to emit sparks of venomous fire, and the forked tongue was darting in and out of the fanged mouth with a frightful anticipation of the feast in store. Mirza Ali Bog was no coward, but this new fi.enzy almost overcame him. There was a. chance, a slight one, that the serpent had not yet crushed the life out of its prey. Using words which were no prayer the father uplifted the tough staff which lie still carried. He rushed forward. The snake elevated its head to take stock of this unexpected enemy, but the stick dealt it, a furious blow on the tail. Instantly uncoiling itself, either to fight or escape, as seemed mast expedient, 0 it received another blow, which hurled it, with dislocated vertebra, far into the dust-' dust. he man, with a great cry of joy, saw that the child was stretching her limbs, now that the tight clutch of the reptile was withdrawn. He caught her up into his arms and, weak as he was, ran back to his wife. Here is one who will restore the blood to thy cheeks. Mihr-ul-nisa." lie cried. And truly the mother stirred again with the first satisfied chuckle of the infant as it sought her breast. 0

[ The husband, heedless what befell for the ) hour, obtained front, the. cow such slight store of milk as she possessed. He gave some to the two boys, the greater portion • to the baby, and was refuting his wife's . remonstrance that lie had taken none himself as he pressed the remainder on her , when the noise of a commotion at a dis- . tance caused them to look in wonderment . along the road they had recently traversed • in such sorrow. , I here, gathered around some object, were a- number of men, some mounted oil Arab horses or riding camels, others on foot; behind this nearer group they could distinguish a long kafila of loaded* beasts with armed attendants. '"God be praised!'' cried Mihr-ul-nisa, " we are saved !" This was the caravan of a rich merchant; faring from Persia or Bokhara to' the Court of the Great Mogul. The undulating plain, no less than their own anguish of mind, 1/id prevented the Persian and his wife from noting the glittering spear points of the warrior merchants retainers as they rode forward in the morning sun. Surely such a. host would spare a little food and water for the starving family and forage for Deri, the cow! "But what are they looking at?" cried the woman, of whom hope had made a fresh being. "They have found the snake." "What snake'/" "It is matterless. As I returned for the child, when you fell in a swoon, I met a snake and killed it." A startled look came into her eves. " Khodah hai!" ("There is indeed a God!") she murmured ; "it must have been near to my baby !" Two men, mounted on Turkoman horses, were now spurring towards them. Mir/.a Ali Beg advanced a few paces to meet them. One, an elderly man of grave appearance and richly attired, reined in his horse at a little distance and cried to his companion : By the tomb of Mahomet, Sher Khan, 'tis lie of my dream!" The other, a handsome and soldiorlv youth, came nearer and questioned Ali Beg, mostly concerning the disabled and dying snake, which had been pounded into pulp by the foremost men of the caravan. Then Mirza told his tale with dignified eloquence; he ended with a pathetic request for help for his exhausted wife and family. This was forthcoming quickly, and. whilst lie himself was refreshed with good milk and dates and cakes of pounded wheait, Malik Masud, the elder of the two horsemen and leader of the train, told how he dreamt the previous night that during a. wayside halt under a big tree he was attacked by a poisonous snake, which was vanquishing him until a stranger came to his aid. The snake lying in the path of the kafila was the exact counterpart of that seen in his disturbing vision : but his amazement was complete when he recognised in Ali Beg the stranger who had saved him. So, in due course. Mihr-ul-nisa, with her baby girl, was mounted on a camel, and her husband and two sons on another, and Deri, the cow, before joining the train, was regaled with a copious draught of water and an ample measure of grain. Thus it came to pass that Mirza Ali Beg and his family were conveyed through Kandahar and Kabul in comfort and safety. They rode into the gaunt jaws of the Khaibar Pass, and emerged, after many days, into the great plain of the Punjab, verdant with an abundant though deferred harvest. And no one imagined, least of all the baby girl herself, that the infant crowing happily in the arms of Mihr-ul-nisa was destined to be the beautiful, gracious, and world-renowned Empress of India, Xtir Mahal. In that same month of July, 1588, on the nineteenth day of the month, to be exact, the blazoned' sails of the .Spanish Armada were sighted off the Lizard. Sixtyfive great war galleons, eight fleet galleasses, fifty-six armed merchantmen, and twenty pinnaces swept along the Channel in gallant show. Spread out in a gigantic crescent, the Spanish ships were likened by anxious watchers to a great bird of prey with outstretched wings. But Lord Howard of Effingham led out of Plymouth a band of adventurers who had hunted that bird main a time —Drake, Hawkins, Fro'bisher and the restthey feared 110 Spaniard who sailed the seas. Their little vessels, well handled, could 1, sail two miles - to the Spaniards' one, and | lire twice as many shots, gun for gun. "One liv oik-," said they, "we plucked the 1 don's feathers." Ship after ship was sunk. ; captured, or driven 011 shore. A whole week the fight raged, from Plymouth Sound to Calais, and there the last great fight took place, in which the Duke of Medina - Sidonia yielded himself to agonised tore- 1 boding, and Drake rightly believed that the Spanish grandee would ere long wish him- 1 self at St. Mary Port among his orange ; trees." < During one of the many fierce duels be- ] tween the ponderous galleons and the I hawk-like. British ships the Resolution, I

hastily manned at Deal by volunteers who rode from London, hung on to and finally captured the S'-*u Jose. It was 110 easy victory, for the Spaniards could acquit themselves as men when seamanship and gunnery gave place to swords and pikes. Three times did the assailants swarm up the lofty poop of the San Jose before they made good their footing. At last the Spaniards fell back before the fierce onslaught led by the gallant gentleman from Wenslevdale in the North, Sir Robert Mowbray, to wit, who, had he lived, was marked out for certain prefeiment at Cou it.

Unhappily, in the moment of victory, a. voting, pale-faced monk, an ascetic and visionary, maddened by the success of his country's hereditary foe, sprang from the nook in which be lurked' aaid struck Mowbray a heavy blow with the large brass crucifix lie carried.

The Englishman had doffed his hat and was courteously saluting lie Spanish captain. who wars in the act of yielding up his sword. One outstretched arm of the image of mercy penetrated bis skull, and lie fell dead at the feet of his captive. At once the conflict bioke out anew. Nothing could restrain the crew of the Resolution when they noted the dastardly murder of their chivalrous leader. The galleon became a slaughter-house. The monk, frenzied as a beast in the shambles, sprang overboard and was carried past another ship, the Vera Cruz, which rescued him. This vessel was one of the few storm-wrecked and fever-laden survivors of the Armada which reached Corunua. The Englishmen learnt from wounded Spaniards that the fanatical ecclesiastic was a certain Fra Geronimo from the great Cistercian monastery at Toledo. They remembered the name so that they might curse it. They cried in their rage because Fra Geroninio bad escaped them. A black snake in the plain of Herat, a glittering crucifix 011 board the San Jose in I the Channel off Gravelines —these were I queer links, savouring of necromancy, whereby the lives of gallant men and fair women should be bound indissolubly. Yet it was so, a.s those who follow this strange and true history shall learn, for many a blow was struck and many a. heart ached because Nur Mahal lived iv.ul Sir Robert Mowbrav died in that wonderful month of July, 1588. CHAPTER 11. Up then rose the "prentices all. Living in London, both proper and tall. ' —Old Song. Sir Thomas Cave, of Stanford in Northamptonshire, a worthy knight who held his wisdom of greater repute at Court than did his Royal master, was led by the glamour of a.' fine summer's afternoon in the year 1608 to keep a long-deferred promise to his daughter. At Spring Gardens, removed but a short space from the King's Palace of Whitehall, that eccentric monarch. James 1., had established a menagerie. Here could be seen certain mangy specimens of the wonderful beasts which bulked large in the lore of the period, and Mistress Anna Cave, with her fair cousin, Mistress Eleanor Roe, had teased Sir Thomais until he consented to take them thither on the first occasion, of fair seeming as to the weather, when the King would be pleased to dispense with his attendance.

The girls, than whom there were not two prettier maidens in all England, soon tired of evil-smelling and snarling animals, which in 110 wise canne up to the wonderful creatures of their imagination, eked out by weird wood-cuts in the books they read. They found the charming garden, with its beds of flowers and strawberries, its hedges of red and black currants! roses and gooseberries, and its golden plum trees lining the brick waJls facing west and south, far more to their liking.

Nor was it wholly imsuited to their age and condition that their eyes wandered from the cages of furtive wolves and uneasy bears to the smooth walks tenanted by a coterie of Court ladies with their attendant gallants. Anna Cave, eighteen, yet looking older by reason of her tall stature and graceful carriage ; Eleanor Boe. a year younger, at sweet girl, at once timid in manner and joyous in disposition, found much to cavil at in he Spanish fashions then prevalent in high circles. Born and bred in decorous and God-fearing households, they were not a little shocked by the way in which the great dames of the period dressed and comported! themselves. Yet, with all their youthful disapproval there mingled a spice of curiosity, and Nellie, the shy one, often nudged her more sedate companion to take note of a specially ornate farthingale or a Spanish mantilla of exquisite design. Now despite the reverence in which the stout Sir Thomas held the King, he did not approve of some of the King's associates. Especially was he unwilling th.'.t the bold eyes of any of the young adventurers and profligates who clustered under the banner -of' Rochester should survey the charms of his daughter and niece. Therefore, when the girls would have him walk with them in the wake of Lady Essex, then at the height of her notorious fame, he peremptorily vetoed their design. " If you are aweary of the kennels," he said. "we will stroll in our own garden. It is fair as this, and the scent of the flowers therein is not aped by the cosmetics of the women."

" Nay—hut, undo,'' pouted Eleanor, disappointed that lie style of the much-talk-ed-of countess should be 110 more than glimpsed in passing. "we have seen neither lion, nor tiger, nor hump-hacked camel. Surely the King's collection is not. so meagre that one may find as many wild beasts at any May Day fair in Islington?" "Lions, tigers, and the rest, got wot! What doth a girl like thee want with such fearsome cattle?" " "I'is only a few days since I heard one declaiming a passage in Master Shakespere's play of 'Macbeth,' and he said: What man dure, I dare: • Approach thou like the rupnied Russian bear, The arm'd rhinoceros, or the Hyrcrji tiger: Take any shape hut that, and my firm nerves Shall never tremble. Now, save a very harmless-looking bear, neither Ann nor 1 have seen these things, so we know not why thev should be held so terrible." During this recital the knight's red face became wider and wider with surprise. " Marry, heaven forfend!" he cried, " what- goings-on there be behind my back! Anna, can you, too, spout verse as glibly?" " Indeed, father, Nellie and 1 know whole plays by heart. Yet we would not indulge in this innocent pastime if we thought it angered you." Sir Thomas was as wax in his daughter's hands. Secretly lie feared her greater intellectual powers. He believed that girls' brains were better suited to housewifery cares than to the study of poetry, yet some twinge of doubt bade him keep the opinion pent in his own portly breast. "Nay, then, if it pleases- you and wiles away dull hours I will not hinder you, but Nellie here should not betray her gifts in public. Folk hereabouts have rabbits' ears and magpies tongues. I fear me there are neither lions nor horned pigs to hand. I hey are costly toys, and 'tis whispered that His (Jracious Majesty obtained) less credit abroad than among his liege subjects. Further, my boniiie girls, "l have asked a certain youth, (Jeorge Bees ton by name, to sup with us to-night, and it behooves you — What, Anna, has it come to that.' You shrug at the mere mention of him! And lie a proper youth— not one ot these graceless rascals who yelp at Carr's heels!" Again was Sir Thomas Incoming choleric and red-faced, and the girls' excursion promised to end in speedy dudgeon had riot a messenger, wearing the palace livery, approached and dotted his cap, bowing low as lie halted. Happily one said your worship was in the gardens.' he said. "I am bidden to tell you that the King awaits your honour in his closet. The matter is of utmost urgency." Now, this announcement had the precise effect on its recipient calculated by those who sent it. Sir Thomas, inflated with importance, was rendered almost incoherent. Never before had he received such a royal message. All considerations must bow to it. He bustled the girls into a litter in which they could "he carried to his brother's house in the. city without soiling their shoes or being exposed to the gaze of the throng in the Fleet or Ludgate. He himself hurried off to Whitehall, there to be kept in a fume of impatience for a good hour or more, whilst the King disputed with a Scottish divine as to the exact pronunciation of the Latin tongue. Admitted at last to the presence, he found that the urgency of his summons touched no

greater matter than the cleansing of the Fleet ditch, a fruitful source of dispute between the monarch and the city in those day.*. Sir Thomas had wit enough to promise that the King's wishes should be made known to the Common Council and sense enough to wonder why he was called in such hot haste to attend a trivial thing. It was a time when men sought hidden motives for aught that savoured of the uncommon ; the knight, borrowing a palfrey from a merchant of his acquaintance, rode homewards along the Strand revolving the puzzle in his mind. Long before he reached Temple Bar he was wiser if not happier. Soon after Anna Cave and the sprightly Eleanor entered their litter to be carried swiftly along the .Strand two young men approached Temple Bar from the East. (Iheir distinctive garments owed that whilst one was of gentle birth the other wa.s a yeoman : that they were not master and man could be seen at a glance, as they conversed one with the other with easy familiarity, and repaid with ready goodhumour t lie chaff which they received from the cheeky apprentices who solicited custom in the busy street. Indeed, the appearance of the yeoman was well calculated to stir tongues less nimble than those of the pert salesmen of Fleet-street. Gigantic in height and width, his broad, ruddy face beaming with the delight afforded by the evidently novel sights of London, his immense size was accentuated by his coat of tough brown leather and the high riding-boots of the same material which almost met the skirts of the coat. Tight-fitting trousers of grey homespun matched the colour of his broadbrimmed felt hat, in which a gay plume of cock's feathers was clasped by a big brooch of dull gold. The precious metal served to enclose a peculiar ornament, in the shape of a headless fossil snake, curled in a circle as in life, and polished until it shone like granite. Though his coat was girt bv a broad sword-belt he carried no weapons of steel, apparently depending for protection, if such a giant required* its aid, on a long and heavy ashplant. In other hands it would be a cumbrous stake; to him it served ais a mere wand. His preposterous and somewhat unusual garb in well-dresse'd London absolutely eclipsed, in the public eye, the handsome and stalwart voutli who, in richer but studiously simple attire,'strode by his side. The apprentices, fearless in their numbers and unfettered in impudence, plied him with saucy cries. "What d'ye lack, Master Samson? Here be two suits for the price of one, for one man's clothes would never fit thee." Come hither, mountain! I'll sell thee a town clock Unit shall serve thee as watch." "Hi, master! Let me show thee a trencher worthy of thy stomach." The last speaker held forth a salver of such ample circumference tlni,t the two young men were fain to laugh. "I' faith, friend,'' said the giant, with utmost good-humour, " we are more needing meat than dishes. Nevertheless, you have ta'en my measure rightly."' His North-country accent proclaimed him a Yorkshire dalesman, and the White Rose was popular just then in Fleet-street. "If that be so," said the sturdy silversmith's assistant who had hadled him, "you must hie to Smithfield, where they shall roast you a bullock." "Come wi' me, then. Mayhap they need a puppy for the spit." The answer turned the laugh agaiinst the apprentice. He bravely endeavoured to rallv.

s "I cry your honour's pardon," he said. I "1 looked not for brains where there was - so much beef." Therein you further showed your observation. Ofttimes the cock-loft is empty in ; j those whom nature hath built many storeys 1 i high." 5 I Again the buoyant spirits of the Colossus > ! won him the suffrages of the crowd. Clear- . j ly, he had an even temper in his great r ' frame of bone and sinew, for the easy play I ■' of his limbs showed that, big as he was, • j lie held no superfluous flesh, whilst the heat . I of the day left him unmoved, nothwithi standing his heavy garments. ! But his companion caught him by the l arm. j "Come, Roger," he said quietly. "We. t must find our, kinsman's house. There 'is I still much to be done ere night falls." . j ; The crowd made way for them. They passed westward through Temple Bail-, which ..was not the frowning stone arch of i later days, but a strong palisade, with posts and chains, capable of being closed during iii tumult, or when the darkness made it , | difficult to keep watch and' ward in the , ! city. The Strand, which they entered, was an open road, with the mansions and gardens of great noblemen on the left, or south side. Each walled enclosure was separate from its neighbour, the alleys between leading to the water-stairs, where passengers so minded took boat to Southwark and Lambeth. On the north were other houses, some pretentious, but more closely packed togeth- | er, and on this hanid Drury Lane and St. | Martin's Lane were already becoming \ thoroughfares of note. I One of these, houses, not far removed j from the Church of St. Mary-le-Strand,. i thrust the high wall of its garden so far ! into the road that it narrowed the passage ; between it and Somerset House. Here a : group of young gallants had gathered, { whilst some soldiers, of swarthy visage and | foreign attire, were loitering in the vicinity. I This, if my memory serves, should be j the house of Gondomar, the Spanish Ambassador." said Walter Mowbray, the elder and more authoritative of the pair. "Gondomar! Another name for Old Nick! The devil should keep his proper name in all countries, as he keeps his nature in all places." " Hush, Roger, or we shall have a brawl oil our hands. I am no lover of Spaniards, you know full well, yet we must pass Gondomar's men without unseemly taunt. The King loves not to hear of naked blades." Thus admonished, his wonted grin of good-humour returned to Roger Sainton's face, and, as the swaggering youngsters in the road were paying some heed to a covered litter approaching from the west, the friends essayed to pass them by taking the paivement close under the wall of lie Ambassador's garden. As luck would have it, a sort of signal seemed to be given for a row to star!:. Swords were whipped out, men ran forward, and there was a sudden clash of steel. A laughing fop, for his sins, turned to seek someone with whom to pick a quarrel : he chanced to find himself face to face with Mowbray, Roger being a little in front and at one side. I'll have the waill of you. sirrah," cried the stranger, frowning offensively. Walter stepped back, and his right hand crossed to his sword-hilt, so evident was the design of the other to insult him. But Sainton laughed. Ho caught the would-be bully by the belt. "Yea, and take the house, too, if the landlord be willing, my pretty buck." he growled pleasantly, whereon lie heaved the swaggerer bodily over the wall, and they heard the crash of his body into the window of a summer-house. Those who stood near were rendered aghast by this feat of strength: they had never seen its like. Young Lord Dereham was 'no light weight, and his lordship's wriggling carcase had described sufficient parabola to clear coping-stones set 10ft above the pavement. (To lie continued.) [Another instalment of this very interesting story will be given in these columns on Wednesday next, and will be continued on Saturdays and Wednesdays until its completion.] WHAT WOULD YOU DO? Suppose, for example, you need a Cough Medicine for yourself or some member of your family. You go into a store and the clerk hands out several kinds to select from. He may urge one on to you or he may bo neutral. Which one do von select? Does not common sense tell you to take the one you know is free from all narcotics? That one is Chamberlain's Cough Remedy. You have not only the assurance of the Chamberlain .Medicine Co. that it is free from narcotics, but also- know that it is the only Cough Medicine sold in all of Australia that has been officially declared free. We condemn no honest medicine, but when the safety of your life or that of your child is at stake, take no chances. Ask your physician and he will tell you that the dangers of opium are worse than a thousand coughs, i