professed astrologer and fortune-teller? Was that
the kind of man in whose testimony any
confidence could be placed? Then, with regard to
the question of identity, was the evidence
satisfactory as to that particular? By his own
account, this Mr. Vampi the very name had
something unreliable about it this Mr. Vampi
had only seen the face of the deceased on two
occasions, and yet he professes to speak with
confidence of his power of pronouncing decidedly
that the lady of whom he had thus caught two
cursory glimpses, and the original of the portrait
shown to him in court, were one and the same
person. And in a case of such importance as
this, was it right to trust so much, to a thing
like a portrait? There was always a degree of
uncertainty attaching to likenesses, even when
executed by the photographic process. Were
not people continually in doubt about such
portraits as to who they were meant for? Was it
not a common thing to hear people say, in speaking
of such likenesses, "Well, I should never
have known it, if you had not told me."

Thus he went on. He spoke of the uncertainty
which must attend any attempt to identify
such a thing as a medicine bottle, the very
labels on which might have been afiixed after
the bottle was found. And then he adverted to
the extreme improbability of the statement
made by the defence that the witness Vampi
had remained for so long a time in ignorance of
facts so widely known and so openly discussed
as those which were connected with the present
case. He confessed that he found a difficulty,
which he could not help thinking that the jury
would share, in receiving such a statement as
this. The case for the defence was supported,
there could be no doubt, by some very strange
witnesses. The jury had received a mixed
testimony, supported by a nineteenth-century
astrologer, and a gentleman who lived by playing
on the drum. It was not often that
representatives of these two uncommon professions
appeared in a court of justice.

In short, the learned serjeant did, as has been
said, all that he could to depreciate the witnesses
for the defence, and to invalidate their testimony.
A strong proof of the value which that testimony
bore in his eyes. It was impregnable, and he
must, therefore, seek to throw doubt on the
characters of those from whom it had come.

Another of the sections into which a trial is
divided, got over. The end is drawing near now,
in very truth. This reply of the prosecution is
the last stage but one. Gilbert, who has listened
breathless to every word of that speech, which
has here been condensed to the utmost, would
like to answer it again, did the arrangements of
our courts of justice permit. But they do not,
and he is obliged to content himself with the
thought that, at any rate, it will be answered
now by the next speaker, and that with such
wisdom and discretion as can only come from a
lifetime given to the consideration of questions
such as these. For the next speaker is the
judge, and on what he says all will depend.

There is, as has been said, no function fulfilled
by man upon this earth which partakes so much
of the Divine as this that the judge executes,
and now the moment had arrived when this
function was to be exercised under
circumstances of the extremest impressiveness. There
was no need to enforce silence now. The scales
were adjusted, and the evidence given was about
to be weighed in them. Which way would the
balance turn? Men hoped, and believed that
they knew; but there was a doubt still. And
so all leant forward with indescribable eagerness
to catch even the first few words of the judge's
speech, which were uttered in low faint tones, but
audible because of the intensity of the silence.

For those words on which a human life
depends, and on which the whole interest of this
drama in some sort hinges, it is needful, owing
to the exigencies of the present form of
publication, that the reader should wait just one
week more. At the expiration of that time,
however, he shall most certainly know, not only
what is the issue of this trial, but also the end
of all things connected in any way with the
course of this narrative.

      DEAR MEAT AND CHEAP FISH.

THE present scarcity and consequent high
price of animal food is most alarming. As there
is but little probability of its becoming cheaper,
it behoves us to look about for means to add to
the general stock.

Various attempts have been made, by
acclimatisation societies and by individuals, to introduce
new varieties of animals; but all these
well-meant attempts have hitherto failed. It is
indeed a very doubtful matter whether any known
animals, either domesticated or in a semi-wild
state, are better than those we already have
besides, it is obvious that our pasturage, being
limited and fully occupied, we cannot introduce
any new variety without displacing or driving
out something we already possess. It would be
better, therefore, to turn our attention to the
animals we already have, and to try to improve
them, or in some way increase their numbers.

The land being pretty well stocked, there is
but little to be done in that direction. Our
fresh-water lakes and our rivers are also limited
in extent; something, however, might be done
here, by cultivating trout, rather than the coarser
kinds of fish; but not much. Their value is
estimated rather as a means of relaxation and
sport than as a means of supplying food, and as
such, no doubt, they might, by cultivation,
become very valuable.

There is, however, one most valuable fish,
whose fecundity is enormous, whose
feeding-ground is unlimited, which is under our
complete control during three-fourths of its
existence, and which is at the same time utterly
uncultivated—this fish is the salmon.

The experiments at Stormontfield are nothing
more than experiments, though so important
that, but for them, we should know little or
nothing of the habits of the salmon. Up to