nel and the part bricked in and completed, is two or three hundred yards. It is in this last space that the work is of course being carried on. * The following figures concerning the length of the tunnel, the rate of progress, and the depth of the central part, will be interesting: : Portion completed from the north end, 15th Portion completed from the south end, 15th Uncompleted portion :: Total length of tunnel Progress of excavation, July 1-15, 1870, north side Progress of excavation, July 1-15, 1870, south side Feet. 15,624 Such then is the state and such the history of the great tunnel under the Alps. It is a work altogether exceptional, being the first instance of the perforation of a great mountain axis; the first in which an important tunnel has been attempted exclusively from the two ends without shafts; the first in which the ingenious machinery for boring the rock preparatory to blasting has been carried into effect. It will probably be completed within the time origi2,674 nally contemplated. It has been carried on throughout by Italians; the original se40,094 lection of the site and the suggestion and Feet. perfecting of the machinery by which it 125 has been possible to carry it through in reasonable time, are also Italian. The countrymen of Galileo and of a host of ingenious inventors known to fame, have shown that they are no unworthy descendants of these great men. 21.796 130 255 the Total excavation in a fortnight's work The central part of the tunnel is about 5,546 feet below the observatory on the summit, and 4,130 feet above the sea level. It has been passed on the Italian side. THE ESCAPE OF A FUGITIVE IMPERIALIST.THE story of the Duc de Grammont's escape from France after the disastrous collapse at Sedan is so full of romance as to make us feel doubtful whether we are really living in the matter-of-fact nineteenth century. It is, at all events, says the London Globe, worthy of being preserved, and we present our readers with the following facts, which we have good reason to believe to be perfectly correct : ered, and he himself, as seemed only too prob- The Duc de Grammont, as Minister for Foreign Affairs, naturally heard of the Emperor's surrender a day before the news was published in Paris. He saw at once that flight was necessary, as the wrath of the mob was sure to be turned against the Ministry, who was responsible for the war. He accordingly went to his banker's to provide himself with money and various securities, but was informed that the partner who had charge of his affairs was in the country whither the Duc pursued him. The partner was found engaged in burying his propSWIFTNESS OF BIRDS.- A GERMAN paper, erty in his garden, but returned to Paris and speaking of the swiftness of various birds, says: delivered up to the Duc de Grammont the papers A vulture can fly at the rate of 150 miles and money which were required. On the next an hour. Observations made on the coast of day the bad news was published, and the Min- Labrador convinced Major Cartwright that wild He sent off a servant in his carriage geese could travel at the rate of 90 miles an openly, and escaped himself by a private door. hour. The common crow can fly 25 miles, and The mob pursued the carriage, but of course swallows, according to Spallangain, 92 miles an found no one in it that they wanted, and the hour. It is said that a falcon was discovered at Duc got safely to Calais. On his arrival there, Malta 24 hours after the departure of Henry IV. however, a new cause for alarm arose. It was from Fontainebleau. If true, this bird must necessary for him to produce his passport before have flown for 24 hours at the rate of 57 miles be could leave the country, and it was evident an hour, not allowing him to rest a moment that in this way his identity would be discov-during the whole time. ister fled. 66 CHAPTER XXXIV. "WHAT CAN HE WANT?" AUDREY and Geoffrey Dynecourt carried off the exclamations of surprise at their absence in a very clever manner, aided greatly by Lady Laura's perfect tranquillity regarding their movements. She said she certainly ought to scold Mr. Dynecourt for permitting Audrey to act so foolishly, although, as she remarked to those near her, "I quite expected her to be missing, for Audrey can't stand the heat of a room, or of any covered place when she has her bonnet on. I remember Lady Alfreton taking her to an affair of this kind, and she went roaming about the grounds, and was absolutely lost." She did not mention that this was in the height of summer, when most of the people there did the same. In her heart, Lady Laura was very much annoyed at her daughter's conduct, but she was too wise to give others a handle against her by betraying the slightest vexation. "It's absurd," thought she, "for Audrey to be setting everybody at defiance; and Mr. Ford would not probably like to hear that she was so entirely engrossed with another in his absence. I shall speak to her as soon as we are alone." poor man at any time would have been a dreadful crime; now, when a rich suitor was at her feet, the offence would be a thousand times greater. "I wonder what could have prevented Mr. Ford from coming," continued Lady Laura, "I dare say you will have a letter from him to-night. I hope he is not ill." "I hope not," returned her daughter. "And, Audrey, I must say that I think you acted very unwisely to-day in permitting Mr. Dynecourt to pay you so much attention." "Did he pay me much attention, mamma?" "Well, you know what I mean. I sup pose if it had not been for the sake of get ting up some stupid sort of flirtation with him, you would not have gone roaming into the garden, or to some distant greenhouse, or wherever you did go. I made the best of it, but I assure you I was not pleased; and, let me tell you, nobody can afford to set people's tongues at nought before marriage.' "Can they afterwards? because if so, I shall get married as soon as possible." "Well, of course, when a woman has a husband, and a good house, and her posi tion is established, people are very lenient to her peculiarities. If you choose to Very soon after this she was expressing make a friend of one person then, do so; to Mr. Majoribanks how much she had en- though, remember, it's rather a task to joyed his pleasant gathering. Then, lean-turn a bear into a domestic animal," and ing on her host's arm, she left, distributing Lady Laura laughed at her own sharpsmiles, adieux, and farewell compliments, causing a perfect chorus of, "What a charming woman!" to follow her depar ture. Mr. Dynecourt escorted Audrey to the carriage. Just before it drove off, he asked Lady Laura if she would be disengaged at two o'clock the next day, as he wished her to give him a few minutes' con versation. "Certainly, I shall be very pleased to see you," she said, with her most fascinating smile. Waiting for a moment, she turned suddenly to her daughter, and said, "What can he want? I have not been speaking about him to anybody, have I?” Audrey was glad that her face could not be seen. Left with her mother, she did not know what to do. Tell her she must; she could never let this thunderbolt be launched by Geoffrey first. She knew a storm would be sure to follow, and thought it best to allow some of the violence to be spent before he came. Yet how to begin, or what to say or do she could not tell. To have contemplated a marriage with a ness. "I don't quite understand the allusion," said Audrey. "Don't you, dear?" replied Lady Laura playfully. "Well, you know I always look upon Mr. Dynecourt as having something of the savage about him, and one never knows when the nature of such people will peep out." 66 'I am sorry you do not like him," replied her daughter. "Oh! I like him well enough; and if he is to be a favourite of yours, my dear child, rest assured I shall never interfere with you." "Then is securing my regard the same as securing yours, mamma?" "Of course it will be, love." "But is it now?" 66 "Yes, decidedly." "Then in that case, I need not hesitate to tell you why Mr. Dynecourt is coming to see you to-morrow," said Audrey; her heart beat very fast, and she felt desperately nervous; but it was of no use waiting; she had better have it over — "and -- that is because he wants your consent to marry me." Lady Laura paused for a moment to take in the words fully, then she laughed, "Marry you! well, that is a good joke. Has he never heard about Mr. Ford?" "Yes." 'Then, my dear, you are carrying the thing a great deal too far. I had no idea that there was any flirtation going on between you; but I think you might have spared me the trouble of answering him. If you did not want to make an enemy of the man, you need not have said you did not care for him. You could have given him to understand that you had already accepted Mr. Ford.” "But I have not accepted Mr. Ford." "Well, perhaps not in words, but you mean to marry him." 66 No, I do not." Not intend to marry Mr. Ford?" “No, mamma, and I may as well tell you all, at once. Mr. Ford has proposed to me, and I have refused him; and Mr. Dynecourt has asked me to marry him, and I have accepted him." "Audrey!" almost screamed Lady Laura, "you're mad; I'm positive you are, you wicked! bad! abandoned girl! you must be. I don't believe it's true, you're only saying this to worry and annoy me, and I can't stand it; your conduct already has so upset my nerves that I feel as if the slightest strain would make me break down altogether." "Mamma, I am very sorry. I know I told you very abruptly, but it is better that you should know the truth." "Do you mean to tell me, then, that what you have just said is true, and that you really intend to act in this way?" asked Lady Laura, speaking very slowly. "Yes, mamma." "Then you never shall!" exclaimed her mother. "I'd rather put you into a lunatic asylum than allow you to marry that penniless, senseless beggar. Never, Audrey, never shall you marry that man.” "Of course, I am prepared for your being very angry, and very disappointed, mamma. I have no doubt were I'in your place I should be the same. Perhaps just now it is useless for me to say how sorry I am to grieve you, still I am truly sorry; but don't say I shall never marry Mr. Dynecourt. Listen to reason, mamma." "I will listen to nothing; and you had better write and tell him not to dare to come near me, or I'll have him put out of the house the impertinent, presuming, red-headed fellow." "I know, mamma, my choice must appear to you to be unaccountable, but when I tell you I love this man well enough, I believe, to beg my very bread with him, surely, with such a feeling in my heart, you will not counsel me to marry Mr. Ford." "You ought to marry Mr. Ford, and have no feeling in your heart." "Quite so; and as long as I had no feeling I was willing to become his wife - but now I would rather jump into the river than do so." "And I would rather see you lying there than disgraced. Oh, what have I done, that my children should treat me so shamefully! But as you have no thought for me, I will have none for you, and I'll tell every one that you're mad, and your new lover shall have a nice account of your former conduct. I'll tell him how you have deceived and cajoled others, that your love for him is only a pretence; that you have no heart, and never had one." "All that will fall on deaf ears, mamma; he knows my best and my worst, and, thank God, he is content to take me as I am. But understand, mamma, although I wish to give you all the obedience and respect that you are entitled to, yet I intend to marry Geoffrey Dynecourt; therefore I trust you will not force me to do anything which might give rise to scandal. I am content to wait your time, to take your advice, to follow out any plan you may think best, but I intend to marry Geoffrey Dynecourt; and I also intend the world to know it." "Oh yes, publish your disgrace as soon as possible." Do not speak in that way, mother, for love has so softened me that I long to throw my arms round you, and sob out my happiness;" and she hid her face in her hands and cried bitterly. "If you had made a proper choice I should have been very pleased to have received any proof of your affection. But when I remember how you have deceived me, by never saying one word of this, and leading me to suppose that you would marry Mr. Ford, I can put little faith in either your love or your tears. What I can possibly say to that man I know not. I fully expect he will threaten us with an action, and I cannot blame him if he does." "You need not fear Mr. Ford troubling you; he was far kinder to me than you have been, mamma.” Very glad to get quit of his bargain," sneered her ladyship; "and I am sure no one need wonder at it. You seem to think that you are somebody, to encourage and lead people on, and then refuse them; but I can tell you the world won't be so ready to believe your story. Common sense will tell people that, unless you are mad - as I believe you are- it is not very probable that a passé woman of thirty, without good looks or accomplishments for I don't know what you can do - would refuse a man whose only folly is, that with such a fortune as his he has not aimed higher. Lady Inverlochy would have jumped at him for one of her girls; and as for the Grahams, they were after him like a pack of hounds.” "Well, mamma," said Audrey, smiling, now they can try their chance. I will promise not to interfere with any one, if they will only let me alone." His poverty, she feared, would be rather a sore subject with him when made the target for all the arrows with which her mother intended to pierce him. If Charles were only at hand, she thought he might make matters smoother for her. So, after thinking over it she wrote and asked him to help her. Lady Laura was similarly employed; so the same post conveyed two letters to Captain Verschoyle, both of them begging him to return home at once. Audrey's said. "DEAREST CHARLIE,- For the sake of old days, give me your help. Something has happened which has made mamma very angry, and she will not listen to me, or to sense or reason. To you she would probably pay more attention; will you therefore come home as soon as you can, and try to set matters straight between us? "Ever your loving sister, "AUDREY." "P.S.-I cannot explain anything in a letter; but I am so happy, and I am longing to hear some one say they are glad to hear it." Lady Laura wrote: "MY DEAR CHARLES, Oh, yes! just like your selfish nature," exclaimed her mother. "As long as your wishes are gratified you never consider Audrey has gone other people. It will be very pleasant for me to hear the sneers and innuendoes of mad; quite mad, I believe. I can give you no women whose daughters have made excel-explanation of her conduct in a letter. As I trust it may still be hushed up, I do not like to say a word on paper; but I must see you. So make any excuse you like to Mr. Egerton, and return at once to lent matches. I know their way of supposing it is a love-match, and adding, What else could it be for?' A polite reminder that they are quite aware of the poverty of the whole affair. What your brother will say, I do not know." "Say! What can he say? I am sure he did all he could to put me against Mr. Ford." "That is only because men always underrate what they consider secure. You'll find he will not be so delighted to have a brother-in-law whose present position I consider to be only one step above that of a tradesman." Audrey laughed outright. "Well, mamma, that is just what I want you to see that, after all, Geoffrey is in advance of Mr. Ford." Lady Laura shrugged her shoulders, saying, if they had come to quibbling about words, it was time to put a stop to the conversation. She sat silent for a few minutes before they reached home, stepped out of the carriage, and betook herself to her own room, from which she did not emerge during the rest of the evening. Audrey sat considering how she could best soften her mother's wrathful indignation, and keep her rather sharp tongue in check, during the interview which she so much dreaded for Geoffrey Dynecourt. "Your affectionate, but really distracted mother, "LAURA VERSCHOYLE." CHAPTER XXXV. RED-COAT ASSURANCE. ABIGAIL FLETCHER, Patience Fox's only sister, was a tiny, fragile, dark-eyed little woman, with a stout will and opinion of her own, a quick vivacious temperament, and a general interest in the affairs of all her friends and acquaintances. Most people in and about York knew the Fletchers. Therefore when Dorothy told Mr. Egerton she was going to visit her aunt, he made greater friends with her, telling her he remembered her mother well, and adding, "Though I have not a shake-hands acquaintance with your aunt, we know each other." To Captain Verschoyle the old gentleman was not disposed to be quite so amiable, and to Dorothy's horror Charles received two or three decided snubs. When they reached the station Miss Fletcher was waiting for Dorothy. Mr. Egerton jumped out and told her that he had been en trusted by Mr. Crewdson with the care of her niece, and he had much pleasure in finding that York could claim an interest in the young lady, "for her face does as much credit to it as her mother's did before her." This led to a conversation about Patience and old days, during which Dorothy and Captain Verschoyle found time to say a few words to each other and to arrange a meeting. "But you must introduce me to your aunt," said Charles. Oh, yes," said Dorothy, feeling very nervous about performing this ceremony. A pause occurred, and she began, "Aunt Abigail, this is Charles Verschoyle. Mother knows him," she added timidly. "That's right, Miss Fox, back him up with a good reference; I am sure his appearance requires it," said Mr. Egerton. Fortunately Aunt Abigail knew the eccentric character of Mr. Egerton, so without replying to this comment she held out her hand to Captain Verschoyle, made a few remarks to him, and, asking Dorothy if she were quite ready, entered the fly which was waiting for them. The two gentlemen watched the fly till it was out of sight, and Mr. Egerton taking his god-son's arm, walked on for a few minutes in silence, and then said to know this girl? Who is she? What's her father? Captain Verschoyle tried to cover his vexation by pretending to be amused. "Upon my word, sir, one would imagine that you thought I had some serious design upon the young lady, whom I know because she is the sister of Mrs. Hanbury, of Fryston Grange." "Well, then, who is the father of Mrs. Hanbury of Fryston Grange? and who's Hanbury? You don't think I forget your ways of asking everybody's pedigree, that after eating their dinners and drinking their wines you may turn up your aristocratic noses at them and their belongings. I know you're beating about the bush, Charlie, so you may as well tell me whether he's a tallow-chandler, or a cheesemonger; for, fortunately for us, card-playing, racing, betting, or most other ways of getting money under false pretences, are not popular professions among the middleclasses yet." Captain Verschoyle saw that he had better answer in a straightforward manner, so he said. "Mrs. Hanbury's husband is a corn merchant in London, and her father is a cloth dealer in the West of England." "West of England! What do you mean by the West of England?" Why, Plymouth." 66 "Why don't you say Plymouth, then? That's where you were sick so long after landing in England. Oh, so you made the acquaintance there." 66 "When I unearthed you twice near Miss Fletcher's, why couldn't you have told me what took you in that direction? What need was there for trumping up a story about Hartop? I suppose you aren't ashamed of knowing the girl, are you? "Ashamed!" said Captain Verschoyle, Really, sir, you are making a great showing through his bronzed skin the deal out of nothing," said Captain Verscolour which the question brought to his choyle, losing his temper. "Out of mere cheeks; "I don't quite understand you." courtesy I call upon a young lady, to ask "Oh, that is a pity!" replied Mr. Eger-if she has any commissions for her sister, ton, with a sneer. "You're so uncom- - and you twist it about and question me, monly sharp generally, particularly in de- as if you thought I were going to propose ceiving other people when you have a to her immediately." game of your own on hand. Ha, ha!" he suddenly roared, "I can't help laughing when I think of your face; I never saw a fellow so chop-fallen in my life. So you thought I didn't know you were going to Leeds?" "I really did not think or care about it. Miss Fox's sister has shown me a great deal of kindness, and knowing that I should probably see her in town, I thought it would only be civil to call and inquire for the young lady." "You're your father's own son, Charlie,” said the old gentleman. "You've a precious awkward way of telling a lie. Now your mother does it handsomely; but then it's a woman's trade. How did you come "No; I've not got that thought in my head, Charlie. But I have this one, you have a good many philandering ways about you which a girl like that doesn't understand. The young fellows she has been accustomed to, haven't been blessed with your red-coat assurance, so they don't take it for granted that anything becomes them. Why, she's a baby compared to the women you're accustomed to. Her blushing smiles and tears come as quickly as sunshine and cloud on an April morning." "You're speaking plainly, sir." "Yes, I generally do, particularly to you, my boy; but I never yet left you in a scrape if I could get you out." "That you never did," replied Captain |