but the clerk became deaf, and went on with
some writing, precisely as if Mr. William
Wallace were invisible and inaudible.

The Miller was the only resource. He was
from home, and his wife gave the same
answer as everybody else had done. "But,"
she said, pointing to an individual who was
sauntering into the Close, "there's one as can
tell 'ee. He's a ratchetty man he is." Without
waiting to inquire the meaning of this
strange expression, off starts the record-hunter
upon the new secret. He runs down his game
in no time. It consists of a burly biped,
bearing a cage of fine ferrets. Round his person
is displayed the broad insignia of office,–––
he is a rat-catcher.

Here Mr. William Wallace's perseverance
triumphs. The Rat-catcher knows all about
it. "Why you see, Sir," he said, "I contracts
for the Registrar."

"What for?"

"What for? Why, I catches the rats for
him at so much a-year."

"And where do you catch them?"

"Where do I catch them? Why, where
the old wills is."

"And where is that?"

"Where is that? Why, there."

The Rat-catcher points to a sort of barn
that rises from the edge of the Minster Pool.
It has no windows on the ground-floor. On
the first-floor are six–––two in the front of the
building and four at the end,–––twenty-seven
windows less than are displayed in the front
of the Registrar's beautifully glazed house;
but much of the little glass afforded to the
registry is broken. To mend it upon seven
thousand a-year would never do, especially
when old parchment is lying about in heaps.
Why pay glaziers' charges when ancient wills
and other ecclesiastical records keep out wind
and weather as well as glass?–––for light is a
thing rather to be shunned than admitted
into such places. Accordingly, as the
Rat-catcher points to the shed, Mr. Wallace
observes numberless ends of record rolls and
bundles of engrossed testaments poked into
the broken windows: in some places
variegated with old rags.

Judging from the exterior, and from the
contract for rat-catching, the interior of this
depository of the titles of hundreds of
thousands of pounds worth of property, must be
an archaeological Golgotha, a dark mouldy
sepulchre of parchment and dust.

Lawyers say that there is not an estate in
this country with an impregnable title; in
other words, it is on the cards in the game of
ecclesiastical and common law, for any family
to be deprived of their possessions in
consequence of being unable to establish a perfect
title to them. How can it be otherwise when
the very deeds by which they have and hold
what they enjoy, are left to be eaten by rats,
or to be stuffed into broken windows?

                       THE SOWER.

       "This is the strife, and eke the affraie,
        And the batill, that lasteth aie."–––CHAUCER.

      THOUGH his heart may dare to glory,
      Conscious of a God innate–––
      Yet to read his future story,
      To foresee his future fate,
      To fore-sing his future singing,
      Never doth the Poet heed:
      Every day to him is bringing
      All of which the day hath need.

      Faithful is his hand and fearless:
      Wholesome seed, he knoweth well,
      May be sown in weather cheerless,
      But will spring up where it fell.
      Seed was given to his keeping,
      And from Heaven it was sent;
      He has sown it. Is it sleeping
      In the soil?–––he is content.

THE NEW ZEALAND ZAUBERFLÖTE.

IN THREE CHAPTERS.–––CHAPTER III.

IT so chanced that the direction taken by
the kangaroos led towards the sea-coast, and
to that quarter of it where Waipata had been
sent since his conversion to Christianity. The
young man being out with three or four of the
Maori youths, amusing themselves in
practising with their spears, were suddenly alarmed
by the advance of large wild creatures of a
kind they had never seen before, and, therefore,
regarded as very strange and dangerous
monsters. Onward came these nine monsters,
almost in regular succession, with their large
dark eyes staring like lamps before them
their long ears sticking up like horns–––their
long thick tails stretching out straight behind
and taking leaps of ten or twelve feet high,
–––and from twenty to thirty feet in length. As
the first passed along, Waipata–––partly in fear,
and yet partly from a daring spirit, flung a
spear at the creature. The weapon pierced
it deeply in the flank.–––so that the leaping
flight was at once turned to a limping escape.
The instant the effect was seen by the other
youths, away sang their spears, and down
stumbled three more of the poor kangaroos.
The hunting mania was now in a blaze, and
with a loud yell, the young men gave chase,
and in a very short time, the kangaroos, who
though wounded, had all contrived to keep
together to the last, lay rolling on the sand near
the sea, with their huge hind legs kicking
in the air. At this moment Ta?nui and his
party made their way round a rock, and
beheld the slaughtered creatures–––and who
had done it!

The king sat down upon a stone, and bent
forward, looking at the dying and dead
kangaroos. The chiefs explained to Waipata the
mischief he had done; but Ta?nui said
nothing. He saw how it all was.
Witchcraft–––the "dibble"–––the influence of his old
enemy Te Pomar–––of Te?ra–––of Kaitemata
and her black one-eyed pig–––and of the magic
flute! Against all explanation and apologies