to notice the gravity with which Mr. Sinclair was listening to him. Before leaving the cottage he gave him a letter of introduction to Mr. Buxton, and advised him to go to town the following day and deliver it in person. "We do, indeed, thank you," said Mona, coming forward as he was going away. "You are very good to take so much trouble about us." Taking the hint, Mrs. Moreton smiled sweetly, and expressed her thanks in a very pretty manner. Edward, believing himself already installed in the new office, was exultant. He insisted upon accompanying Mr. Sinclair home, and was, as Mona thought, officiously polite. The scale now high in his favour would have sunk low in another direction, had he known what was passing in Mr. Sinclair's mind when, a few days later, meeting Mona in a walk, he asked if she thought her brother suited to the charge he was so anxious to undertake. "I think so; I hope so. Do you doubt it?" said Mona, dismayed as well as pained at the question. "His recommendations are excellent, rejoined Mr. Sinclair," and Mr. Buxton is much pleased with his appearance. But living abroad is less easy for a young man in many respects than living in England. Your brother cannot have much experience of life." "Is that necessary to make a good tutor?" asked Mona, anxiety creeping into the soft eyes, resembling then those of a fawn in pain. "I might find him something nearer home," observed Mr. Sinclair, meditatively. But Mona was alarmed at the suggestion. Not only was Edward extremely pleased with the situation, but he had made a favourable impression on Mr. Buxton, and the employment was immediate, which latter circumstance was a consideration. "I think he will try and do justice to your kindness," said Mona, timidly. "I know that my father thought well of his principles." "Then I may be satisfied," replied Mr. Sinclair in a cheerful tone, hoping to remove the uncomfortable feelings his doubts had raised in her, and half angry with himself for having, even for a moment, clouded the guileless face that looked so patient and so good. "If I could do anything for you, Miss Moreton, I should be very glad. You wish to give up your lessons here, and take a situation as companion or as governess in a family, do you not?" "Wish," repeated Mona, dubiously, "I do not know what I wish." "Would you like to leave home?" he asked, after a pause. "I will do what my mother desires in the matter." When the subject was referred to Mrs. Moreton, Mona was hurt at the willingness she evinced to let her go, and still more so to hear her rush into speculations over the result. Her heart failed her, not for want of courage to face a sterner lot than she had hitherto encountered, but because the severance from home, and the exchange of kindred for strange ties, made the future so very gloomy in her eyes. It was quite the contrary with Edward. His first letter contained a glowing description of his new life; he liked both Mr. and Mrs. Buxton and his pupil too, though he feared that, owing to the lad's delicate health, he should make nothing of him. A few days later Mona's fate had to be decided. She was returning from Payne's shop, where she had been making a few purchases in grocery, when she was accosted by Mr. Sinclair. "I was just about calling at the cottage respecting the subject on which you permitted me to speak to you the other day. I have something to submit to your consideration." He looked as animated as Mona was cold and languid. In her heart she was half annoyed with him for his endeavours to procure her what at the eleventh hour she discovered distinctly that she did not want. I hope my proposal will meet with your approbation," he said. "Mamma will be very glad," answered Mona. "And you ?" "Well, I suppose I am glad too," replied the young girl, trying to look pleased out of compliment. "I wish you to find a situation in my sister's family. She is a widow recently returned to England from India with her only daughter, a girl of fourteen. Since I mentioned you to her, she has become so anxious to secure your services that, not to lose time, she is coming to the Rectory to-morrow." "Your sister?" repeated Mona, flushing with surprise. "I did not know you had a sister." "She is my half-sister, some years older than my elder brother." "Perhaps she will not like me," suggested Mona. "The question most important to decide is whether you will like her enough to live with her. I know very little of her disposition, not having seen her since she married and I arrived at man's estate, but she seems lively and good-natured, and has taken some interest in your history. It may be pleasanter for you to be with her than with total strangers." Mona was of the same opinion, and was quite confounded at the way her mother treated Mr. Sinclair's proposition. "How very officious of him!" she exclaimed, forgetting that only a few days before she had consented to her daughter's leaving home. "You can do better than that." "What can I do better?" asked Mona, disappointed, having now quite made up her mind that she wished to go. Mrs. Moreton did not specify what would be preferable, but continued to reiterate her determination that her daughter should not be a governess in Mr. Sinclair's family. "Rather there than with strangers," replied Mona. "I will not allow it. You must write to Mr. Sinclair and decline. Your father would have liked us to be altogether." There was no prospect of inducing Mrs. Moreton to change her mind when, as in the present instance, her decision had been made through caprice, or, as might also be the case, when she felt some uneasiness about her own comforts, without the dexterous aid of her eldest child. Mona was obliged to refuse the offer so kindly made, which she did as politely as words would permit, and sent her letter early the following morning before the lady's arrival. CHAPTER XIX. "WHEN is this pretty little paragon coming to see me?" asked Mrs. Fraser of her brother, as they sat over the fire after dinner. "I am afraid your only chance will be to go to her. Since I proposed Miss Moreton to you, her mother has changed her mind, and will not allow her daughter to leave ho I am sorry, for she might "I brought you down here, I hope, not Mrs. Moreton; and I still have the pleasure of receiving you at my Rectory," said Mr. Sinclair. "Miss Moreton would, I think, gladly come to you if permitted. Perhaps, if you will take the trouble to pay the mother a visit, you may win her over." With this in prospect, Mrs. Fraser recovered her good temper, and consented to call on Mrs. Moreton the following day. Differing from her brothers in that she was small and slight, and they were neither, she was not less dissimilar in disposition. She had not the thoughtful gravity of Warren, nor the clear sight and light-heartedness which, in Cecil, seized and turned into ridicule the foibles of others; but she was essentially good-natured, and often shrewd, with the intuitive appreciation of character that is sometimes found where least expected. Though turned forty, she looked juvenile, and was rather pretty, with the manners and vivacity of a young woman. She was extremely self-willed, with no mean opinion of her own abilities, which, if not actually nil, were perpetually leading her into grave mistakes. Another peculiar feature was her incapacity to profit by a past experience, owing, in some degree, to the excessive admixture of the sanguine with a thoughtless temperament. Mr. Sinclair saw her depart on her errand the next day, determined to be successful, and cordially he desired it, believing, as he said, that Mona Moreton would be a valuable addition to his sister's household. But there was yet another reason. He did not wish to be shut out of her life, nor did he desire to be too near her, but he did wish to exercise a grave, fraternal care over her, and see her made as happy us circumstances would permit. When Mrs. Moreton saw Mr. Sinclair's carriage stop at her door, her first impulse was to bewail the difference in worldly estate between the late and present rector. Her poor, dear Charles, who was such a good man, had never kept a carriage, and why should Mr. Sinclair? The liveried servant was also an offence, though the dress was of the simplest description-a groom's dark-blue coat, with silver buttons, and a silver band round the hat. She had never been able to persuade her husband to go beyond a gardener, a cook, and a housemaid. The custom of being at home to visitors only when it was agreeable to see them was not among the ways of Hillesden, so when she saw a lady alight at the garden gate, fashionably attired in velvet and fur, she quickly slipped on her best cap, and was seated in carefully-assumed state in the best Rectory chair by the time her small maid-of-all-work had opened the door. Mona would have done it in her stead had not her mother peremptorily forbidden her. "We must remember what is due to ourselves," Mrs. Moreton was saying, as Mrs. Fraser entered the room and gracefully introduced herself. Of the two ladies, Mrs. Moreton was by far the most beautiful, but being cumbered by a weight of dignity she could not lay aside, and for which the cottage afforded no scope, she appeared to the least advantage as they sat talking together upon indifferent subjects, until Mrs. Fraser made known the real object of her visit. Meanwhile, Mr. Sinclair awaited his sister's return with curiosity. Her absence seemed long, but the carriage wheels were heard at last, and soon the little lady came fussily into his study. 'How can you exist in such a hole as this? Why don't you build yourself a larger room? I should suffocate here; and such a fire, too! I cannot breathe in small rooms. Well, you don't ask me what I have done, nor what I think of Miss Moreton." "I shall be happy to hear as soon as you have breath to tell me,' "said Mr. Sinclair, settling himself into a listening attitude. "Oh, but what a silly, vain woman Mrs. Moreton is, and so pretentious! As if I did not know she was poor. And she talked so grandly, her daughter looking so distressed and mortified all the while, and so true and honest, and sweet besides. I mean to have her, but I must pay her mother's price. Happening to say that I did not mind salary, Mrs. Moreton stipulated for a hundred a-year, and I did not know how to go back from my word." What salary did you propose giving?" Seventy; and Miss Moreton actually told her mother that seventy pounds was handsome, more than she was worth, but Mrs. Moreton would not abate a pound, though her daughter sat with downcast eyes, ashamed and miserable. For her sake I concluded the bargain quicker-for bargain it was—and came away. Miss Moreton is to join me in London this day week." "Well, I congratulate you on having achieved a victory." "Or rather on having bribed the enemy to surrender," returned Mrs. Fraser. "Can you guess what I mean to do? It will be some time before Fanny comes out, so I intend to practise a little match-making on Miss Moreton's account. I shall take her into society. She is the sort of girl when well-dressed to make a sensation, but I shall be a capital duenna, and will not let any one approach her but a first-rate parti." "You are talking of marriage as the silly and frivolous do, not as of one of the grand realities of life, upon which much besides position or pleasure depends." Mr. Sinclair said this with a touch of austerity in his tone. "I should not think a girl of Miss Moreton's calibre would thank you for parading her attractions, and looking out for the highest bidder." "If I give the young girl a chance of settling independently of a mother who does not appear the wisest of guardians, her friends ought to thank me." suppose so," said Mr. Sinclair, slowly; "but I hope Miss Moreton's affections will not be hastily nor unworthily bestowed." 66 "On the contrary, most worthily bestowed. I mean to find her a husband, rich, handsome, and good." "Perfection is not to be found," returned her brother, testily, forgetting that he had just expressed fears of an opposite tendency. "I will try." "There need be no hurry about it, she is very young," he answered, dipping into the ink the pen he had laid aside on his sister's entrance. "I fear I am interrupting your studies too long," she observed, taking the hint, and beginning to gather up the wraps she had thrown down. "I was engaged when you entered,” he replied, evasively. But when Mrs. Fraser was gone his occupation was not resumed. He took up his hat and went out, exposing himself to the east wind, which in general he made a point of avoiding. He had no idea that his sister was so frivolous a woman, and began to fear that Mona Moreton was too young to be committed to her care. What was her age? Twenty or twenty-one. Helen Lestocq was twenty-five when he proposed to her, and in the full bloom of her imperial beauty. Mona Moreton's was of a more enduring kind; it would become more sweet, more touching, as years advanced, he thought to himself, "soft and lovely as the sunset tints upon an opal sky." "What romantic nonsense," said Warren, pulling himself up in the midst of his meditations. "As I can have no voice in deciding her lot, I may as well not wish to hinder others from doing so." And then his thoughts returned to Helen. Her superb beauty, as his brother designated it, reminded him of the cold splendour of those awful terrors that had nearly been his tomb, and seemed to separate him from the calm peaceful life he considered the happiest and the best. I AUTOMATA. BY JOHN NEVILE MASKELYNE. IV. HAVE purposely reserved to this part of my papers upon Automata the famous chess-player, as it opened up a new era in the art-viz., the production of apparently intelligent androids. This figure, which for a long time baffled the curious and created intense excitement throughout Europe, was the ingenious invention of Baron Wolffgang de Kempelen, of Presburg, Hungary, Aulic Counsellor of the Royal Chamber, and constructed by him about the year 1769. De Kempelen was an ingenious man, who had made working models of improvements on Arkwright's cotton-mill, and Boulton and Watt's steam-engine; and it is said that, incited by the success of Vaucanson's flute-player, he attempted to rival that elaborate piece of mechanism. How he did so we shall see. Another story is that, being present at the court of Maria Theresa during some experiments in magnetism by one Pelletier, a Frenchman, De Kempelen declared, in the hearing of the empress, that he could make a figure more surprising in its mechanical operations than any of the wonders they had then witnessed; and the curiosity of this true daughter of Eve being excited, she exacted a promise from the baron, in pursuance of which he constructed his chess-player within six months. One other story-much more romantic, yet probable enough of the idea leading De Kempelen to his famous android I reserve until the figure itself has been described. It was of life-size, in Turkish costume, sitting upon a chair fixed behind an enclosed table, or cabinet, three and a half feet long, two feet deep, and two and a half feet high. On the top of this was a chess-board eighteen inches square, and overlooking the board sat the figure, its right hand resting on the table, and the left, somewhat raised, holding a pipe, which was removed before the commencement of a game, the "automaton" then using this hand to move the pieces. The whole structure ran on four wheels, and could so be moved from one part of the room to another, and during such times the rich dress was thrown over the head of the figure, when its body could be seen to be filled with mechanism. There was likewise a door in the thigh, and here another similar arrangement of cylinders, wheels, and pulleys was exposed. When the machine was stationary the costume was drawn down to its original position on the figure, and the door of one of the two compartments in the table opened, a candle being held within to facilitate its examination by the spectators. When the scrutiny was completed the door was locked, and a second compartment submitted to inspection. These cupboards were of unequal size that on the figure's left hand taking up about two-thirds of the whole space, and being apparently much more free from machinery than the small cupboard. In our illustration the doors of the compartments are both shown open at the same time for the sake of convenience; as also is the drawer below, containing the chess-men, and a cushion to place under the arm of the figure during play. The small box standing by the side of the machine was frequently consulted by the baron or his assistants, and was said to contain the secret of the chess-player's movements. A winding-up ceremony having been gone through, the chess-player commenced by taking a knight from its original square, by its proper moves, quickly and without error, over the other sixty-three squares of the beard. In play it took white and first move; its head and arm slowly turned towards the piece to be moved or taken, and its hand opened, the fingers conveying the piece to the square selected, or, if necessary, removing it from the board. When the opponent's queen was in danger the figure nodded twice, and it shook its head three times when checking the king. If play was long delayed, it tapped its chest in seeming impatience, and went through similar movements if its antagonist placed a piece upon a wrong square during the course of the game; in the latter case setting the false move right by moving the piece to the position it had occupied upon the board previously. The figure then took the move itself, if there was advantage in so doing, | out in a Russo-Polish regiment at Riga, in as justified by the laws of the game. Kempelen stated that the machine was a bagatelle, which was not without merit in point of mechanism, but that the effects of it appeared so marvellous only from the boldness of the conception, and the fortunate choice of the methods adopted for promoting the illusion.* Notwithstanding this, he made large sums of money by its exhibition in Presburg, Vienna, Paris, and London, at which latter place the chess-player was on view for about a year, commencing in 1783, at No. 8, Saville Row, Burlington Gardens. In a pamphlet, published by Steckdale in 1784, and attributed to Philip Thicknesse, F.R.S., the father of Lord Audley, we read: "Both figure and counter are railed off, and only one man attends withinside, and he is supposed to be the only person with whom the stranger actually plays, by causing the arm and the hand of the automaton to move the chess-men by some incomprehensible and invisible powers, according to the preceding move of the stranger who plays against the automaton; and that every spectator should think so, he always places himself close to the right elbow of the automaton previous to its move, then puts his left hand into his coat-pocket, and, by an awkward kind of motion, induces most people to believe that he has a magnet in his pocket, by which he can direct the movement of the Turk's arm at pleasure." Many guesses were hazarded as to the means of accomplishing the movements, but they remained an unsolvable mystery for many years, notwithstanding several peculiarities of the figure, duly noted: such as one door being locked before another was opened, and the interior compartments being shown one after the other in unvarying succession; also that the winding-up ceremony was repeated, not at regular intervals of time, or after a certain number of moves, but whenever it seemed to strike the exhibitor that such an effect might well be introduced. In 1785 a French writer came very near the truth by declaring that there was a dwarf concealed within the machine, the noise of the winding allowing him to change from one position to another as the doors were opened and closed. The apparatus was really large enough for a full-grown man to creep into; and it is now an acknowledged fact that two, at least, of the workers of the figure were men with their full complement of limbs, and of the usual size. The exact means employed for hiding the worker (who, when the machine was first submitted to an audience, lay concealed in the cupboards) were hanging frames of collapsable machinery, behind which the man crouched; and by his shifting his position as the various doors were opened, the spectators were effectually deceived. The scrutiny being concluded, the man rose into the figure, and moved its hand and arm with the greatest ease. The halcyon days of the "automaton" were its earliest, when worked by one Worouski, a cripple, who had lost his legs by a cannon-ball, and not been -like the Irish soldier in the song-rewarded with a pair of wooden ones in return. The chess-player, indeed, is said to have been constructed for the specific purpose of assisting this outlawed Pole to escape from Russia. In 1769 a revolt had broken "C'est une bagatelle, qui n'est pas sans mérite du côte due mechanisme: mais les effets n'en paroissent si merveilleux que par la hardiesse de l'idée, et par l'heureux choix des moyens employés pour faire illuslon." which Worouski, an officer, took part. The insurgents were defeated, and Worouski, minus his legs from the causes cited above, lay concealed in the house of a Dr. Osloff, who had succoured and tended him after the fight. In three months, at the house of this benevolent man, De Kempelen is said to have completed the work he took in hand, never anticipating the extraordinary success in store for his ingenuity. Dr. Osloff, who up to this period was not in the secret, first played with the automaton on the 18th day of October, 1769. The game being over, and the worthy doctor beaten, he exclaimed, "Well! if I were not certain Worouski is at this moment in bed, I should believe I had been playing with him. His head alone is capable of inventing such a check-mate. And, besides," said he, addressing De Kempelen, tell me why your automaton plays with the left hand, just like Worouski?" Upon this the baron, satisfied that his mutilated friend would escape detection during their passage from the country, smiled as he told the secret of the Polish officer's prison-house to the warm-hearted doctor. Robert-Houdin had this story from the lips of M. Hessler, Dr. Osloff's nephew. 66 can you De Kempelen started with his automaton in a packing-case, Worouski occupying the most uncomfortable "officers' quarters' " within the figure. De Kempelen at various points upon the road exhibited his chess-player, and its fame travelled far and wide, so that by the time he reached Vitebsk, on the road to the Prussian frontier, the Empress Catherine II had heard of the wonderful novelty, and commanded the baron to appear before her with it. With a heavy heart De Kempelen repaired into the enemy's camp, nor could Worouski have been without some misgivings, thinking of the scant "quarter" he would receive if his disguise were discovered. Arrived at the palace, the packing-case was conveyed to the library, and when the figure was rolled out the empress entered to play a game with it. During the course of this she made a false move, when the chess-player instantly swept all the pieces off the board. Notwithstanding this summary mode of ending the game, her Majesty was mightily pleased with the performance, and desirous of buying the figure; failing in this, the empress, anxious for a peep on the sly into this most difficult of all chessproblems, desired the dazed exhibitor to lend her the automaton for a few days, and take a holiday himself; and, the czarina's will being law, De Kempelen had to submit with as good a grace as possible. The dilemma was a serious one; on the one hand, detection of his trick and implication in the escape of a traitor; on the other, the suffocation or starvation of his imprisoned colleague. Having seen De Kempelen safely out of the palace, the empress returned to the library, and, like another Fatima, opened the doors in the figure and the box-the "blue chamber" she panted to explore-but, to her chagrin, found nothing beyond the usual wheels, etc., and could not by any exhortation induce the machinery to move. The fact is the operator within had taken a step downwards (a way they have not got in the army), from being a major had become a left-tenant, to use a very aged Joe-Millerism, quitting the trunk of the figure for the chest, or packing-case, in which it had been brought to the palace, where her Majesty never thought of looking for the secret. Finding the figure | formance, after dismissing his own scanty audience. could not be made to play, the empress recalled De Kempelen upon the day followng his dismissal, and he returned in time to save his confrère from the extreme pangs of hunger, and to reinstate him within the chess-player. Escaping at length from Russia, with Worouski as safe and sound as the cannon-ball had left him, De Kempelen's mission was accomplished, and the chessplayer laid aside. The baron, indeed, is said to have taken the machine to pieces, but to have rehabilitated it in compliance with the wish of the Emperor Joseph II, before whom it was next exhibited at Vienna. Its great success there induced De Kempelen to carry it to other cities, and eventually through Europe. The chess-player was "the rage at Paris in 1783, and in the latter part of the same, and early in the following, year it was exhibited at Saville Row, London, as before mentioned. At one time, by special invitation of Frederick the Great, De Kempelen took the automaton to Berlin, and he is said to have sold the secret to that most inquisitive of monarchs. In 1803 De Kempelen died, having previously disposed of the chess-player to M. Anthon, who carried it over the whole of Europe, netting large sums by its exhibition. When Napoleon Bonaparte was in possession of Berlin in 1806, he played with the automaton, and attempted to deceive it by false moves, but the wary figure invariably swept the board upon these occasions. Here the secret was again sold, as was the buyer, Eugene Beauharnais purchasing the valuable information for 30,000 francs! On M. Anthon's death M. Maelzel, the inventor of the "metronome" (time measurer), bought it, and brought the figure again to England, exhibiting it at Spring Gardens, in 1819, and in St. James's Street in 1820. Worouski was not now the worker of the automaton, M. Mouret having taken his place, and it was noticed that its play had deteriorated. Mouret has given a version of the mystery in M. de Tournay's "Palamede." In this he asserts that he had a wax taper within the figure, and the shifting of the pieces upon the board was made known to him by the movement of metal knobs (there being one under every square) which were attracted by magnets concealed in each of the chess-men. M. Mouret was romancing; the metal knobs were to add to the mystery, not assist the operator, who had a much more simple plan of viewing the chess-board by peeping through a hole in the vest of the figure. During Mouret's illness, a little old man named Alexandre, a very good player, was engaged by Maelzel to work the figure, and a Mr. Lewis was at one time the inside passenger. Maelzel took the chess-player to America about the year 1833, and, after making a tour of the States, died on his return passage from New York. The figure then passed into the hands of M. Cronier, a mechanician of Belleville, France; and Robert-Houdin saw it at his house in 1844. Subsequently the chessplayer made a return visit to America, where an amusing incident is said to have occurred in connection with it. Being taken to a small town for exhibition, the figure proved so great an attraction as to deprive a conjurer, located in the place at the time, of his wonted crowded audiences. Things went from bad to worse, and the beggarly array of empty benches became at last so wearisome, that ne night the magician betook himself to the rival per Here he found all going brilliantly before a large and excited assemblage, and, piqued beyond measure, he resolved to spoil the sport. Accordingly he called out "Fire!" and there was the inevitable stampede caused by that dreadful word. Then the conjurer had the gratification of witnessing the strange effect of the automaton heaving with some internal convulsion as the worker within struggled to escape. But the angry man missed his mark after all, for no one else noticed the upheaval, nor, had they done so, would any have had the curiosity, under the circumstances, to pause and inquire into the phenomenon. At length the chess-player, becoming the property of Dr. John K. Mitchell, a physician of Philadelphia, U.S.A., was deposited in the Chinese Museum of that city, and-last scene of all, and ending of the eventful history of De Kempelen's handiwork-it underwent cremation at the destruction of the building by fire in 1858. Thus what had been a burning question for nearly a century, with as much mystery attaching to it as the veiled prophet, was appropriately settled, and, like many another marvel, "ended in smoke." Some years back I commenced constructing an automatic chess-player of such small proportions as entirely to upset the idea of its even containing a child withinside; a figure, indeed, not weighing more than twelve or fourteen pounds, and as perfectly insulated and isolated upon a glass column as is Psycho. This project was laid aside for other, and, to the public, more attractive work. The fact is, chess-skilful and beautiful game as it is-cannot be made of a very engrossing character to a general audience, so I prepared other figures with endowments more popular and pleasing, before completing that for chess. I have not, therefore, abandoned the idea. The Hurricane. By sea and land the loosened tempest reigns. Huge uproar lords it wide. The clouds commixt |