"What good is life to me?--what good am I for life? Then why live? A guilty conscience only means a living death. You have been very good to me--both you and your wife. But I am going to end it all. Let me confess. It will bring me some small comfort even now in the dying hour I have given to myself. You remember poor Huntingdon? I shot that man--murdered him. Listen and then 'Good-bye.' Huntingdon and I were friendly rivals. You remember my picture of 'The Duel'? Yes. One day I visited Huntingdon. That same morning I had been making some studies of a revolver in the act of being discharged. I had it in my pocket when I went to see Huntingdon, and one chamber remained loaded. I walked straight into his studio. As I entered Huntingdon had a pistol in his hand pointed immediately towards me and--fired. In an instant my revolver was in my grasp and a bullet had entered his heart. That is the simple history of the crime. I fled from the place and none knew. Thank God this is written. A life for a life. I am passing through death all the day, and at night I do not cease to die. You do not know what that means. The guilty do. Angels of darkness play with you all day long and at night watch over you--watch over you that you do not escape, that they may gambol with you on the morrow. They are making merry now. They have got what they want--_Me_. Yes, a life for a life. I will deliver my own up. Good-bye." _The Queer Side of Things._ [Illustration: A USE FOR GENIUS] Young Bansted Downs had finally arrived home from school; the cabman had placed his box in the front hall, and young D. was in the act of hanging up his hat on the stand, when the elder Bansted Downs, his father, put his head out of the library, and said:-- "And now, young Bansted Downs, what sphere in life do you propose to fill?" "I have been thinking, old Bansted Downs," replied the youth, respectfully, "since I left school seventy-five minutes ago, that I should prefer to be something prosperous." The father nodded his head approvingly at this evidence of foresight in his child, and said:-- "I think you have come to a very wise decision, young Bansted Downs. No doubt you have, while at school, selected such studies as were best fitted to prepare you for the struggle of life?" "I think so, old Bansted Downs," replied the son. "The head-master took in regularly for our use all the best prize-competition periodicals; in fact, he was of opinion that a complete selection of these rendered all other educational books superfluous. I myself have attained to such dexterity in guessing the right word, deciding on the best eight pictures and the two best stories, divining the correct number of pairs of boots made in London on a given day, and so forth, that Dr. Practiccle pronounced my education singularly complete." "Good--very good! young Bansted Downs," said the father, thoughtfully; "and now as to a more specific choice of profession?"