creature's sense of smell, that at the distance
of five or six leagues from the house which I
inhabited at Philippeville, she used to discover
the existence of the carcass of a dead
animal. Then the natural instinct of the
wild beast awoke, and would not be restrained.
She used to manage to elude my
vigilance, dart off with marvellous rapidity,
and ere long return, gorged with flesh and half
dead from fatigue. It was in one of these
gastronomic excursions that I lost her. A
panther, who had committed great ravages
in the district, attacked and wounded her so
severely, that she died in a few hours after
her return home.

This account we can corroborate. Colonel
Sykes having sent a pet hyæna to the Gardens
of the Zoological Society, returned several
years afterwards, and went to visit the
Gardens. The moment the creature caught
sight of him, he recognised his former master
with all the joyful manifestations of an
attached dog.

STOP THIEF!

I AM not quite old enough to recollect the
stage waggons, in which the wearied passengers
performed a tedious journey that now occupies
a few hours; and in which so many
strange adventures occurred; including perils
by land and water, and an occasional stoppage
by highwaymen or footpads. But I remember
the time very distinctly when coaches were
first introduced,—long, heavy, lumbering
vehicles they were. They were as unlike their
successors the Phenomenon, or the Tally-Ho,
as their predecessors, the Yorkshire Diligence
or the Edinburgh Fly. Nor were adventures
altogether unknown. Very lively expectations
of a double-barrelled pistol being popped into
the window, accompanied by a demand for
money and jewels were still momentarily entertained;
and, on entering some of the long
lines of road which were then bordered by
woods, the most courageous might be accused
of keeping a sharp look-out for the leap of
the highwayman's horse as he sprang over
the small fence of the plantation, and breathing
freely as he emerged again into the open
country. It is now more than sixty years
since I was face to face with one of the
"minions of the moon," and a very accomplished
gentleman of the road he proved, as
you shall hear when I tell you the story. But
I must go back a little to explain to you how
I got into such agreeable company.

I was only six years of age when I was
sent home from our estate in Jamaica to be
educated in England. I was consigned to
the care of the excellent Mr. Davies, who
was curate of Moddingfield, in Warwickshire;
who performed his duties so well—was so
kind, so charitable, and such an honour to
the church—that you will not be surprised to
hear that he never rose above the degree of
a curate. But he was happy, nevertheless.
He had no other pupil, and I was in great
danger of growing up that most miserable of
creatures—a man without any friends of his
youth; who has never played, quarrelled and
made it up again with companions of his own.
age. But I was fortunately saved from this
wretched fate by the appearance in our parish
of a little girl. This great event happened
when I was ten years old, and the little girl
was five. I could tell you how beautiful I
thought her when we first met; although we
were both so shy that we looked at each
other from the corners of our eyes, as if afraid
of being caught in the act; but you would
think it ridiculous in an old man of seventy-four
to dwell upon the charms of a longhaired,
red-lipped child, and you would laugh
still more if I told you that that vision of
beauty has haunted me ever since. It was
gratitude perhaps; for I feel day by day a
softening and refining of my own nature by
having something to love and protect.

So Mary—let that be her name—and I
grew lovers in a very few days; and, whenever
we thought of the future, it always was
with a splendid vision before us of our being
constantly together. Life would have had
no happiness even then, if we had contemplated
the possibility of our being separated.
Mary resided in the old Manor House, which
was the property of her godmother—a silly
queer old maid of the name of Sidleton—who
was perpetually on the point of marrying somebody
or other, and who carried on enormous
correspondence with the happy expectant;
but, as all her mysterious announcements of
approaching bridecake and whispered denunciations
of the tediousness and intricacy
of settlements, always came to nothing, it
came at last to be believed that the wooers
were entirely the work of her imagination;
and that she would continue her course to
the end,

"In maiden meditation, fancy free."

Yet this was a bold supposition, for the
power of wealth was almost as great then
as now, and Miss Sidleton was immensely
rich. The last of a large tribe of that name,
that had been settled in the county for many
generations, she united in her person the
fortunes of several branches of the family;
and had no one to leave it to except a cousin
who lived with her—a girl, at the time I
speak of, of fifteen or sixteen years of age—
who held the dubious position of half-kinswoman,
half-dependant; but grew up, in
spite of all drawbacks, one of the fairest and
gentlest creatures I ever saw. Well, here were
three of us, and the retirement in which we
lived united us in the ' firmest friendship
— which was still further increased by
our combined veneration for Mr. Davies,
and our united dislike of Miss Sidleton.
But we were not always alone. There came
down to see his sister Mary, once or twice
a year, a tall, handsome, clever young man,