a servant in his family for six months, during which period he was in charge of his master's only son Lalljee, a boy nine or ten years old. The boy had repeatedly complained to his parents of having been illtreated by the servant, and Shunkur Missa was thus com. pelled to send away the man, who said at the time that he was hardly less willing to go than his master was to dismiss him. But he had come back to the house afterwards, and was now begging the master to take him back into his service.

"Give me another trial, sir, only one, and I shall take good care never to give offence to you again."

"That won't suit me," said Shunkur in reply; "and the fact is I have already engaged another man in your place."

Mudhoo Dhanook went away from the house displeased; but of course the master did not care for that at all. "Had he only spoken kindly to me," muttered Mudhoo to himself, "I would not have entertained the thoughts that are tormenting me; but he forces me on to it, and I shall have my vengeance yet."

He came to the house again in the afternoon, when be knew that Shunkur Missa would be absent in the cutcherries, and he had no difficulty in getting his poor victim in his toils.

"Ah, Lalljee Baboo!" said he to the boy the moment he met him in the compound of the house, " see what a beautiful present I have got for you," handing over a little doll to him; "and if you will come with me I will make you a palkee for the doll which will not be easily matched."

"How far must I go with you, Mudhon, for the palkee?" asked the child.

"Oh, a few paces only. I shall just cut some twigs from the nearest bush and make the prettiest conveyance for your doll. But 'you must get a knife from the house, as I have none with

me.'

The delighted boy ran into the house for a knife, and, having procured one, went out with the servant willingly. He was taken. a short distance from the house, among the trees, and, pretending to sit down to make the plaything he had promised, Mudhoo suddenly attacked the boy, threw him down on the ground, thrust his cap into his mouth, and deliberately cut his throat with the knife the boy had given him. He then rose well satisfied with the vengeance he had taken, and turned about to see if there was no hole hard by where the body could be concealed. Not finding any, he took the body up on his shoulders, and, carrying it some further distance, flung it into a well, after first stripping it of the ornaments worn by the boy. One small arm ornament only was left on the body, apparently by accident, as it was concealed by the sleeve of the boy's kortá, or shirt.

Mudhoo respired freely when his work was completed, and, having cleaned the knife, he again proceeded to Shunkur Missa's house in the evening to return it.

"Ha, Gobind Baboo!" said he, addressing a cousin of Lalljee, aged about fourteen, "this knife belongs to the house. I saw it with Lalljee Baboo when he was playing here in the afternoon. He must have drooped it on the ground, and then forgotten all about it. I have been a good servant to the family, and will not steal it. You can restore it to its place, for you know where it is kept."

"But where is Lalljee ?" asked Gobind. "He has not returned to the house yet."

"I do not know," said Mudhoo with a tremulous accent. "He must be playing with other children in some house or other hard by."

Shunkur Missa returned home a short time after, and as Lalljee had not yet made his appearance, a very diligent search was set on foot for him in the neighbourhood, but all to no purpose. An idea then crossed the father's mind that Mudhoo was perhaps playing some pranks with him, or perhaps had done some mischief to the boy. He had visited the house during Shunkur's absence, was the last person with whom the boy was seen, and had come late in the evening to return a knite which the boy had taken away with him. The whole affair looked extremely ugly, the fears of the father were excited, and the alarm at last became so intense that he ran over personally for the assistance of the police.

Mudhoo was apprehended on suspicion at ten o'clock that night.

"What is the charge against me?" he exclaimed. What have I done?"

"You have kidnapped your late master's son," said the policeman. "Give him up, and stave the ruin that must otherwise overtake you."

"I kidnap Lalljee Baboo!" exclaimed Mudhoo with well-feigned surprise. "Why, you may as well charge me with having murdered him. I know nothing about him at all."

The mystery was not cleared till next morning, when the marks of blood were found on the ground, and these being followed up, led to the body being found in the well. Up to this time Mudhoo had denied all knowledge of the boy's loss; but he now grinned hideously when all eyes were inquiringly turned on him for infor

mation.

"I am discovered-am I?" said he. "Well, I will confess that I have done it. But I was instigated to it by Runjeet Sovár." He then described how the crime was committed, and pointed to the spot where his share of the spoil, two silver anklets, were concealed.

Besides the prisoner's confession, other evidence also was now forthcoming, and, among the rest, that of a man who said that he had seen the perpetration of the murder from a high bank which overlooked the spot where it was committed. This person accused four persons of being implicated in the crime-namely, the prisoner, the sovár, or goldsmith, named by him, and the parents of the prisoner, all of whom were present at the spot. The boy was murdered, he said, by the first two, while the other two kept watch. But the proofs against the additional three persons were not conclusive, and Mudhoo Dhanook alone was, therefore, convicted and punished. He was sentenced to death, and underwent the punishment without fear or remorse.

TO MAUD.

ET. SEVEN.

Laughing eyes and flaxen hair,
Dimpled cheeks, untouched by care,
With their many beauties strange,
Time, my little one, will change.

But, believe me, love and truth
Do not fade with fading youth,
For the charm of virtue's smile
Cruel time may not defile!

CECIL MAXWELL-LYTE.

H

LAKE PAPERS.

BY LAUNCELOT CROSS.

No. V.

ROBERT SOUTHEY.

COME forth into the light of things,
Let Nature be your teacher.

She has a world of ready wealth,

Our minds and hearts to bless-
Spontaneous wisdom breathed by health,
Truth breathed by cheerfulness.

WORDSWORTH.

KESWICK was our first lake-love. We visited it before the railway awoke the echoes of Blencathra, and shook the sleepy romance out of Threlkeld. A coach and four bore us from Penrith to the metropolis of the lakes. Ah, that was in the spring time of youth! During the evening we had climbed the Beacon at Penrith and got a glimpse our first glimpse of the land to which we were bound. It was a thrilling moment when, through an opening in the trees, we beheld the region of our dreams and cur hopes, afar, but clearly, and knew that of a certainty we should be within it on the

morrow.

The morning was beautiful, the drive exhilirating-stern and rigidly conical as it was, we hailed with delight Pell-Mell—the first lake hill which we passed. After that, we came to the great northern mountain chain, and we scarcely dared to give any the preference for grandeur of form over another. That day we climbed Skiddaw, and from her elbow-a third of the distance up-got one of the most ecstatic views that we have ever seen, and which can only be equalled by what is obtained from Castle Head and Castlerigg. Bassenthwaite to the right; Derwentwater far in front of us; the intervening plain on which stand Keswick and a score of distant separated villages; the charming, shy St. John's Vale, peeping out from the hills to the left; the glorious throngs of mountains, each for grandeur of outline, green sweetness, or massiveness, seeming to claim attention, and yet as a whole making a complete and sublime spectacle, and all steeped in the golden light of an autumu sun. It was almost more than the senses could bear. Even at the remembrance a swooning feeling comes over us. Our heart swims to bliss. Thank God, we have lived to know it!