For some time past I had observed that Miss Duncan made a good deal
of occupation for herself in writing, but that she did not like me to
notice her employment. Of course this made me all the more curious;
and many were my silent conjectures--some of them so near the truth
that I was not much surprised when, after Mr. Dawson had finished
reading his Paper to us, she hesitated, coughed, and abruptly
introduced a little formal speech, to the effect that she had noted
down an old Welsh story the particulars of which had often been told
her in her youth, as she lived close to the place where the events
occurred. Everybody pressed her to read the manuscript, which she
now produced from her reticule; but, when on the point of beginning,
her nervousness seemed to overcome her, and she made so many
apologies for its being the first and only attempt she had ever made
at that kind of composition, that I began to wonder if we should ever
arrive at the story at all. At length, in a high-pitched, ill-
assured voice, she read out the title:

"THE DOOM OF THE GRIFFITHS."

[At this point comes "The Doom of the Griffiths"--already released by