sincere concern, commiseration for the childless
rich man, and also with the thrill, half
of curiosity, half of painless jealousy, with
which one regards the familiar and beloved
handwriting, when addressed, however
formally, to another. He returned the letter
to Mr. Gould, with a simple expression
of thanks, and sat silent. No one noticed
him. Every one had forgotten the dismal
occurrence about somebody whom nobody
knew, down in some place that did not
belong to anybody. He had time to think
unquestioned.

"I wonder she has not written to me.
The accident occurred four days ago," he
thought. "I suppose she has too much to
do for them all. God bless her, she will
be their best comfort."

Though unversed in the minor arts and
smaller tactics of society, Walter was not so
dull or awkward as to be ignorant of the
skill and kindness with which Lady Caroline
had acted on his behalf. When the ladies
were to leave the room, as she passed him,
their eyes met, and each looked at the other
steadily. In her glance there was
undisguised interest, in his—gratitude.

              RABBIT SKIN.

THERE was a tune when I was ignorant
enough to wonder why a ragged little urchin
with the London cry of "Any rabbit skins
today, marm?" distressed himself to shout so
often at my area steps. I then thought that he
was a seller, not a buyer, and it had perplexed
me to discover what use persons in private
life could possibly find for the article he seemed
to be offering for sale, a string of which he wore
suspended about his youthful neck. That
was crass ignorance, but now that I know
better, ever so much better, I go about
doubting whether one man in fifty thousand
of all those I see about the world could
give anything but the vaguest answer to
the question, What's done with the rabbit's
skin? Shall this state of ignorance
continue? These disclosures are the answer
to it.

The elementary fact is, of course, this. All
hare skins and rabbit skins disappear. They
are bought at our doors, taken away and never
sold again. Nobody ever bought fur
warranted as real coney, or met with rabbit's fur as
such, in any other shape; and the only avowed
form of hare skin is that sold by chemists as a
Hare-skin Chest Protector." I solved the
mystery by getting an introduction to a wholesale
skinner upon the south side of the Thames.

"Yes, sir, we perform the skinning part of the
business," said he, as he led me through a dry
and rather spacious warehouse, on one side of
which, stowed away in racks, stood some
hundreds of brown-paper bags, like so many half
peck loaves.

"Contain rabbit wool, those, sir; ready for
the market. Worth at the present moment six
shillings per pound. That is, the best sort.
During the summer months the wild rabbit is
let alone, and at that season his coat is like the
tame rabbit's, coarse and thin, what, indeed, we
of the trade calls 'stagey.' About November
my gentleman puts off his summer dress and
goes into a new and beautiful warm suit. Then
it is that collectors go round, both in town and
country, buying up the skins. Now, sir, you
would say a skin is a skin, we say it is a 'whole,'
or a 'half,' or a 'quarter,' or a 'rack,' or a
' sucker.' Suckers are skins of infant rabbits,
and of little value. Eight racks are equal to
one whole. The relative value of the others is
told in their names. Wholes are worth from
three shillings to three and sixpence a dozen.
At a rough guess more than two thousand dozen
of coney skins are cut in London in one day.
There are country towns such as High Wycombe
in Bucks, where the business is also followed.
The wool is chiefly used in the manufacture of
felt hats. Cloth also has been made from it,
When the cutting used to be done by hand it
was a very slow process, but it is now done by
machinery. A good workman by hand labour
would get through sixty or seventy skins in a
day. A machine can be made to cut one
hundred and twenty skins in an hour. We can't
find skins enough to keep it always going.
The average day's work of a machine is seventy
dozen. Before the skin is fit for cutting it has
to be prepared by the puller; but if you will
follow me you may see the process."

A long broad flight of stairs conducted
us to a workshop from whence there came
wafted on a strong animal effluvium, the
refrain of "Champagne Charley." The strain,
but not the stink, died away as we entered.
Sitting upon low benches were ranged seventy
or eighty women, young, middle aged, and old,
busily pulling. They were all in rags; but I
learned that ragged gown and torn boots was
the regular working costume, and that most of
them had other and better clothing stowed
away in a room hard by. The stamp of very
low life was on the features of many, more
especially among the elder ladies. While passing
along their ranks, once or twice there was a
confusion of smells, including something
unmistakably suggestive of Old Tom. My conductor
accounted for this presently, by informing me
that, as it was only Tuesday, a good many of
the hands had hardly got into working fettle
yet, after keeping the feast of Saint Monday,
whose shrines are the bars of public-houses.
The air was bad enough if there had been no
smell in it, for dust and fine particles of hair
were floating all around and settling quietly
upon the heads and shoulders of the labourers.
I directed my attention to a woman who had
just received a bundle of work. She took up
a skin turned inside out, as it had been torn
from the back of the rabbit. With a sharp
knife, such as may be found upon any leather-