106; F 1J N [NOTEMBEn 30, 1861.


-=----= ._-C-~_~ ---i ~


IF MS.\SlE SYKES HAD NOT AT THE OPPORTUNE MOMENT CRIED OUT, "W:IIIP BEHTIND-SITARP i!" THIS RESI'ECTABLE PERSON (WHO lA) NO
 THOUGHiT OF HANGING ON BEHIND) NEED NOT HAVE SUFFEriED THIIS PAINFUL INDIGNITY.


STRANGER THAN "A STRANGE STORY."
 (Letter from M1R. LE DESTIAr, SIR E. B. L-TT-N's valet,
 to the Editor of FUN.)
 MR. EDDYrTu,-IMo an the littorurry SR E. B. L. as partid
 cumpenny. He ad finnisht is Strange Story sum time ago, he rote
 too t the times noosepaper to say, not like wITLK. COLLINGS wich rote is
 11l,'iniunn it svite weak bye weak: which he aint no more to be cum-
 paird to Smi E. B. L. than hibernian to a satire. i egstraktid is
 mannyskrip for you an the grattyfykashnn of the Brittishe public
 kurosity befour Marsh nex.-Yours ever,
 Ride, Her Wite. -- VAL. LE DESHAM.
 CHAPTER LAST.
 I had perused the greater portion of Silt PIILIP DERVALS' badly-
 written manuscript, when I laid it on one side to got married.
 I, ALLAN FENWICK, married! and to LiLA.x! The Rational united
to the Ethereal, and obtaining the Real and personal. Let me real that
happy time-gently-goetly-when, my scepticism no longer existing,
[ had become a lirm disciple of MESMEIR, and had-oh! inexpressible
joy-discovered that my wife, my LmIIAN, was a Pythoness.
 Six weeks after our wedding we were seated in my old Study; I
engaged in deciphering SI PIurlP's Hieroglyphics, while LIILIAN,
who had not boen quite well for the last day or two, was leisurely
tasting a nauseous draught of my prescription. What a picture!
The Sublime and Beautiful sipping the Distasteful, a Calm Intelligence
tracing the Illegible. On the table before me lay the Mysterious
Casket which the Policeman, whose sister's mother's son's aunt I had
cured of a toothache, had obtained from SIR PHILIP's butler. Now
at last MAhin AVE's secret was in my hands: now I should discover
how I[e, who should have been hideous, wrinkled, and scarce human,
had preserved upon his cheeks the undying Bloom of ncver-flding
Youth. My LIi AN, the Pythoness, opened the casket : small silver
boxes met our view, labelled "Cosmetic."


 "There!" she cried, laying her finger upon some golden letters,
 "is the name of the Sorceress whose spells have preserved his
 youthful charms." I looked and read, "RACHEL, Enameller of
 Faces."
 Scarcely had an exclamation of surprise and horror escaped my
 lips, when in the street, above the hum of the city, there carolled
 forth the song of a human voice, a wild, half-savage melody-foreign
 broken words-air and words not new to me.
 "'Tis MIAReGRAVE! said the Pythoness in a thrilling whisper.
 I opened the window and looked forth. It was HE.
 G-r-r-ra! he cried exultingly. "G-r-r-ra! "
 With what a lightning bound he sprang! In a moment he was up
 the towering steeple of the opposite church, and, as he sat sternly
 upon its pointed apex, the wondrous brilliancy of his lustrous eyes
 and dazzling teeth seemed to rest upon us like abstracted moonshine.
 I pointed to the open manuscript and casket, but he only waved
 his stalwart arm aloft, and hissed defiance from the tapering pinnacle.
 The rain descended in torrents, and I saw that my hour of victory
 was at hand.
 "Man,.fiend, Troglodyte, or whatever be the secret of your fearful
 existence! You, who hato Suffering, Beware! You have caught your
 First Cold!"
 Even while I spoke, sneeze after sneeze rent the air: and as the
 Dread Existence writhed in strong convulsions, the cosmetics of the
 Magician Enameller RAcnEL cracked and crumbled from his face. I
saw him now in all his hideous truth, penetrated the secret of his
huge strength in those long hairy arms, and of his shiny teeth in the
long hideous fangs which now protruded.
 Feebly, yet unconquered, he raised the old Barbaric Chant. It
was his last spell, and the Pythoness broke it.
 "I know it," she cried, Genius MACNE and throwing her
arms wildly above her head, she hurled the song's burden back upon
the gasping monster:
 "In the Strand! In the Strand! In the Strand!"
 I