steadily on to the Woolsack. In politics, an unbending Tory, he distrusted all reform. But he was a good lawyer, though harassed by a capacity for doubting and the love of an "if."

DR. JAMES WAKLEY.

(Photo: Barraud, Oxford Street, W.)

To the month of January belongs the establishment of the Hospital Sunday Fund. From the year 1869 to the year 1872 the late Dr. James Wakley, editor of the Lancet, urged the establishment of such a fund; but it was not until January 16th, 1873, that the meeting which gave birth to the movement was held in the Mansion House. Sir Sidney Waterlow was Lord Mayor that year, and he became the first treasurer and president of the fund.

There are several anniversaries in the month of January which have a peculiar interest for the supporters of foreign missions. On January 16th, 1736, the Rev. John Wesley was appointed by the Society for the Propagation of the Gospel a missionary for Georgia. On January 9th, 1752, the Rev. T. Thompson, the first missionary sent to West Africa, landed at Fort Gambia. On January 1st, 1861, the heroic Bishop C. F. Mackenzie was consecrated in the cathedral at Capetown, the first bishop for Central Africa. There is no more pathetic story in the history of foreign missions than the account of his short episcopate. He was the first bishop consecrated in the Colonies for a region outside the limits of the British Empire.

BISHOP MACKENZIE.

PLEDGED

By Katharine Tynan, Author of "A Daughter of Erin," Etc.

CHAPTER VII.

MOTHER AND SON.

"I have bad news for you, Anthony," said Lady Jane Trevithick, when the butler had at last closed the door behind him, and mother and son were left together.

"Not very bad, I trust, mother?"

"It is about your poor Uncle Wilton. I did not bother you with it till you had had your dinner. He is ill."

"Ill? What's the matter with him?"

"A very serious collapse, I'm afraid. The last letter said he was unconscious. You'll have to go to him, Anthony, I suppose."

"His state is not dangerous? Surely not, or you would not have delayed about telling me?"

"There is no immediate fear," said Lady Jane coldly. "I have only known of his illness a few days. If you had not been coming, I should have wired to you, of course. But since you were coming, I didn't see the use of it. The doctor said that everything was being done."

"Poor old Uncle Wilton. He is alone and ill, then?"

"He is always alone, so I do not see that that fact adds anything to his being ill."

"Of course, I must go to him. I didn't want to, though. Not just now."

He looked up at his mother's handsome face, almost as though he longed to find some tenderness in it; but there was none. Lady Jane, a superb figure in her brocade and diamonds, was calmly waving her fan to and fro, as if no such things as illness or loneliness or death existed in the world.

"You won't rush away, headlong? You can spare a day or two to me—and to Kitty?" She smiled frostily. "Kitty has been looking forward to your coming, Anthony."

"It is very good of Lady Kitty," he said, contracting his eyebrows in a frown. "She is still with you, then?"

"She is good enough to brighten up my loneliness, dear child. I don't know what I should do without Kitty."

"You seem to get on well together."

Again his fingers drummed impatiently.

"She is a dear child to me," said Lady Jane, her face becoming almost warm. "I wish she had been my daughter, really."

"You would rather have her than your son, mother?"

"You have never given me any trouble, Anthony, but you are more your father's child than mine."

"Some women would have loved me all the more," said the boy, again frowning heavily.

He took a cigar and lit it. Then he said, with apparent carelessness—

"It was good of Lady Kitty to go out to-night. I suppose she thought we would have things to talk about after nearly six months of absence."

"Oh, dear, no," said the mother. "It was an old engagement, that was all. Kitty knows I'm not sentimental."

"Except where she is concerned."

"I shall think you are jealous, Anthony," and as she spoke the half-softened expression momentarily lit her face.

"Of whom, mother?"

"Not of your mother, Anthony."

The young man again made an impatient movement.

"You are not interested in my six months of absence."

"Among savages, my poor Anthony."

"They are not the least bit in the world savages, mother. They are very charming people."

"I daresay, but who are they?"

"Mr. Graydon—and his family."

"Oh, I didn't know he had a family. Of course, he was married before he sold out. He married beneath him. It was something rather disgraceful, I think. Afterwards—he went under."

"I am sure he did nothing disgraceful, mother. He would be no more capable of it than—my father. Besides, I have seen Mrs. Graydon's picture; it hangs over his study mantelpiece. She was a lovely young woman, and very distinctly a lady."

Lady Jane yawned.

"Indeed! I am not interested in Mr. Graydon's family affairs. I know he married beneath him."

"Mother, why do you detest Graydon so much?"

At the point-blank question a dark flush rose to Lady Jane's cheek.

"I am not aware that I detest him. You are like your father, always making absurd friendships, and jumping to absurd conclusions."

"I am glad to be like my father."

She said nothing, and he went on, "Yes, of course, I must go to uncle at once. If I go to Liverpool to-morrow night, I should get a boat on Thursday. Yet I did not want to go now."

His mother glanced over her shoulder at him. There was an expectancy in her face which brightened and softened it.

"No, surely. Why, you haven't yet even seen Kitty. She will be vexed that she was out."

"I wasn't thinking of Lady Kitty."

"Oh!" and her face stiffened again. "I don't profess to understand the young men of the present generation."

"Mother," said the young man—and he blushed like a girl—"tell me plainly: how much truth is there in what you are always suggesting, that Lady Kitty's affections are involved where I am concerned?"

"What do you mean, Anthony? It is a question you should ask Kitty yourself. You are not afraid of the answer, surely?"

"I hope she cares nothing for me."

"You hope!" cried Lady Jane incredulously.

"Yes," said her son doggedly. "It is a disgustingly foppish thing for a man to have to say; but I hope it——"

"Are you mad, Anthony?"

"Not that I know, mother. You have always suggested a marriage between us, and have behaved as if there were some such understanding, but it has been entirely your doing. I was a young idiot not to have put my foot on it long ago, but worse than that I have not been."

"You will not dare to play with Kitty."

His mother had stood up and faced him, and her eyes blazed at him.

"I