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The Fairfield news and herald. (Winnsboro, S.C.) 1881-1900, January 18, 1882, Image 1

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Persistent link: http://chroniclingamerica.loc.gov/lccn/2012218613/1882-01-18/ed-1/seq-1/

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tas IiADY," "THE SEW ilAGHPr
damn," sra, Era
The leaves had fallen in the gronndi
n at Ten Acres Lodge, and stormy winds
told drearilv that winter had come.
An unchanging dullness pervaded th<
house. Romayne was constantly abseni
in London attending to his new religions
duties, nnder the guidance of "Fathei
Bienwell. The litter of books and mannscripts
in the stndy was seen no more.
Il Hideously, rigid order reigned in the TinuL^^csed
room. Some cf Romayne's papers
3, been burnt, others were imprisoned
j^rvwers and cupboards?the historj
hfcigin of Religions had taken its
place among the suspended
Eyrecourt (after
K reconciliation with her son-in-law) visited
her daughter every now and then as
k an act of maternal sacrifice. She yawned
perpetually; she read innumerable
novels; she corresponded with hex
friends. In the long dull evenings the
once lively lady openly regretted that
she had not been bora a man, with the
k three masculine resources of smoking,
r drinking and swearing placed at her disposal.
It was a dreary existence, and
happier influences seemed but little
likely to change it. Grateful as she
was to her mother, no persuasion could
induce Stella to leave Ten Acres and
amuse herself in London. Mrs. Eyrel
court said with melancholy and meta^
phorical truth, "There is no elasticity
left in my child."
>; On a dim coming mother and
daughter sat ^ /he fireside, with anotherlong
day before them.
" Lewis is staving in town," Stella
answered, listlessly.
^ " In company with our enemy V
Stella was too dull to immediately understand
the allusion. "Do you mean
Father Benwell ?" she inquired.
"Don't mention his name, my dear.
I have rechristened him on purpose to
avoid it. Even his name humiliates
^ me. How completely the fawning old
wretch took me in?with sill my knowi-?
edge of the world, too! He was so nice
and sympathetic-such a comforting
contrast, on that occasion, to von anr?
l;;'. your husband?I declare I fcrgot every
reason I had for noi trusting him. Ah!
we women are poor creatures?"we may
own it among cm selves. If a man only
? t*; has nice manners and a pleasant voice.
|- nowmany of ns can-resfet him? ' EvenBomayne
imposed upon me?assisted
by his property, which in some degree
J^^^excuses my folly. There is nothing to
be done now, Stella, bnt to humor
him. Do as that detestable priest does,
and trust to yonr beauty (there isn't as
much of it left as I could wish) to turn j
the scale ia your favor. Have you any j
r idea when the new convert will come j
back ? I heard him ordering a fish diu
ner for himself yesterday?>>e cause it
was Friday. Did you join him at dessert-time,
profanely supported by meat ?
- \VLat did lie say?"
""What he lias said more than once
already, mamma. His peace of mind
is returning, thanks to Father Ben well.
He was perfectly gentle and indulgent,
but lie looked as if lie lived in a differ'*
ent world from mine. He told me lie
* proposed to pass a week in wliat he
called retreat. I didn't ask him what it
meant "Whatever it is, I suppose he is
there cow."
" My dear, don't you remember your
sister began in the same way? She
retreated. We shall have Eomayne
with a red nose and double chin offering
to pray for us next! Do you recollect
that French maid of mine, Stella?the
woman I sent away because she would j
spit when she was out of temper like a
cat ? I begin to think I treated the poor
i creature harshly. When I hear of Ko'
mayne and bis retreat T almost feel inclined
to spit myself. There, let us go
on with our reading. Take the first
L volume?I have done "ivlth it."
I " What is it, mamma?"
" A very remarkable work, Stella, in
the present state of light literature in
England?a novel that actually tells a
V story. It's quite incredible, I know.
Try the book. It has another extraordinary
merit - it isn't written by s
Stelia obediently receiver the first
volume, turned over the leaves and
wearily dropped the wonderful novel on
* her lap.
"I can't attend to it," she said. " My
mind is too full of my own thoughts."
"About Bomayne?" said her mother.
"No. "When I think of my husband
now I almost wish I had his confidence
in priests and retreats. The conviction
^ grows on me, mamma, that my worst
troubles are still to come. When I was
younger I don't remember being tormented
by presentiments of any kind.
Bid I over talk of presentiments to you
in the bygone days V
"If you had done anything of the
sort, mv love (excuse me if I speak
plainly), I should Lave said, 'Stella,
m youi liver is out of order,' and I should
L have opened the family medicine-chest.
will only say now, send for the carriage;
let U3 go to a morning concert,
dine at a restaurant and finish the evening
at the play."
This characteristic proposal was
^ entirely thrown away on Stella. She
was absorbed in pursuing her own train
of thought.
" I almost wish I had told Lewis,"
she said to herself, absently.
" Told him of what, my dear?"
" Of what happened to me with Winterfield."
Mrs. Eyrcourt's faded eyes opened
wide in astonishment.
" Eou you really mean it 7" she asked.
" I do, indeed."
"Are you actually simple enough,
: -> Stella, to think that a mart of Romayne's
temper, would have made you his wif
if you had told him of the Brussels
^ siaxnager
" Why not?"
" Why not! Would Romayne - would
any man?believe that yon really did
part from Winterfield at the churchdoor?
Considering that you are a mar'
ried woman, your innocence, my sweet
j child, is a perfect phenomenon! It's
| well there were wiser people than yon
1 | to keep your secret."
" Don't speak too positively, mamma,
j Lev,-is may find it out yet."
" Is that one of your presentiments ?'?
! "Yes"
I ..
" now is ne xo una 11 our, 11 you
I please':"
: (i I am afraid, through Father Ben.
well. Yes, yes! I know?you don't
3 fe^r him as I do. He has some abom3
inable object in view, and his eye3 tell
me that I am concerned in it.'
i Mrs. Eyrecourt burst out laughing.
; "What is there to langh at?" Stella
* asked"
I declare, my dear, there is some
thing absolutely provoking in your
utter want of knowledge of the world!
When you are puzzled to account foi
| anything remarkable in a clergyman's
conduct (I don't care, my poor child, to
what denomination he belong*), you
can't be wrong in attributing his moend
gentleman in charge of his spiritual
welfare would not have forgotten?as you
have forgotten, you little goose?that his
convert was a rich man. His mind
would have dwelt on the chapel, or the
mission, cr the infant school in want of
funds, and?with no more abominable
object in view than I have at this moment
in poking the fire?he would have
in TYrw^nAirier Vii? mnrlocf. cnV>.
scription-list, and would have betrayed
himself-(just as our odious Bemvell will
betray himself) by the two amiable little
words, please contribute. Is there any
other presentiment, my dear, on which
you would like to have your mother's
candid opinion ?'
Stella resignedly took up the book
"I dare say you are right," she said.
"Let us read our novel."
Before she had reached the end of the
first page her mind was far away again
from the unfortunate story. She was
thinking of that " other presentiment,"
which had formed the subject of he:r
mother's last satirical inquiry. The
vague fear that had shaken her when
she had accidentally touched the French
boy on her visit to Camp's Eili till from
time to time troubled her memory.
Even the event of his death had failed
to dissipate the delusion which associat- :
ed him with some undefined evil iuflu- ,
ence that might yet assert itself. A su- ;
perstitious forewarning of this sort was :
a weakness new to her in her experience !
of herself. She was heartily ashamed
of it, and yet, it kept its hold. Once
more the book dropped on her lap. She
laid it aside and walked wearily to the
xcipdow fn at.the weather*
Almost at the same moment Mrs. '
Eyreconrt's maid disturbed her mistress; 1
over the second volume of the novel; :
by entering the room with a letter.
" For me?' Stella asked, looking j
round from the window. ^
" No, ma'am, for Mrs. Eyrecourt."
The letter had been bronght to the
house by one of Lady Loring's servants.
In delivering he had apparently given *
private instructions to the maid. She
laid her finger significantly on her lips, 1
when she g-avo the letter to her mistress. 1
In these terms Lady Loriug wrote: (
" If Stella happens to be with von. s
when you receive my note don't say ?
anything which will let her know that I [
am your correspondent. She has al- 1
ways, poor dear, had an inveterate dis- f
trust of Father Benweli; and, between 1
ourselves, I am not sure that she is .
quite so foolish as I once thought. The
Father has unexpectedly left us?with a s
well-framed excuse which satisfies Lord j
Loring. It fails to satisfy me. Not j
from any wonderful exercise oi penetra- ?
tion on my part, but in consequence of j
something I've just heard in course of
conversation with a Catholic friend. ^
Father Benweli, my dear, trims out to r
be a Jesuit; and, what is more, a person
~ftnlTirtwfv in 4)iq fl>of ^
UJ. DU^-U. -LLX^XX 44 C4 UiiViiVJ Xi-4. WAV4.VX UUMW I J
his concealment of his rank while he (
was with us must have been a matter of j
necessity. He must have had some
very serious motive for occupying a position
so entirely beneath him as his
position in our house. I have not the
shadow of a reason for associating this
startling discovery with dear Stella's
misgivings?and yet there is something j
in my mind which makes me want to
hear what Stella's mother thinks. Come
and have a talk about it as soon as you
possibly can."
Mrs. Eyrecourt put the letter in her
pocket, smiting quietly to herself.
Applying to Lady Loring's letter the .
infallible svstem of solution which she
v 8
had revealed to her daughter, Mrs.
Eyrecourt solved the mystery of the
priest's condiict without a moment's /
hesitation. Lord Loring's check, ] .
Father Benwell's pocket, repres
such a liberal subscription that mjKrd
was reluctant to mention it to m -f lady (
?there was the reading of the riddle, {
as plain a<; the snn at noonday. Would j
it be desirable to enlighten Stella ? Mrs. <
Eyrecourt decided in the negative. As 3
Boman Catholics and as old friends of
Romayne, the Loring's naturally re- ,
joiced in his conversion. But as old ,
friends also of Bomayne's wife, the; ,
were bound not to express their senti- ,
ments too openly. Feeling that any j
discussion of the priest's motives j
vwvni.l nrnhn.hl v lead to the delicate
subject of the conversion Mrs. Eyre
court prudently determined to klet the
matter drop. As a consequence of this .
decision Stella was left without the ,
slightest warning of the catastrophe ;
which was now close at hand.
Mrs. Eyrecourt joined Stella at the
window. i
"Well, my dear, is it clearing up: I
Shall we take a drive before luncheon ?" |
"If you like, mamma."
She turned to her mother as she answered.
The light of the clearing sky, (
at once soft and penetrating, fell full
on her. Mrs. Eyrecourt, looking at her :
as usual, suddenly became serious; she
studied her daughter's face with an
eager and attentive scrutiny.
"Do you see any extraordinary
change in me ?" Stella asked, with a
iaiai smile. I
7 I ~, . Jrenng, Mrs. Evrecour
Instead of airfL ? J . .
, , J? Stella with a loving
pnt her arm rota* , . ?
,, ,. It at- variance with
gentleness, enti W" . , , _
^Bssxon of her cbaracany
ordinary exrM , , ,
* * ,,,-iBnother s. eyes res+Qd
ter. The worldlv? ,
... ,. - ^mendernsss on tn<
with a lingering1,*
daughter's face. ... , ,
"Stella!" shcsaiSP0^11^.^
at a loss for words f?l&at tlme m
her life. .
After a while she
"Yes; I see a chasK?e -11 JOQ> sae
whispered; " an inv"4est;^1o change
which tells Can you
guess what it isjHiwBii
! Stella's color 7 faded
again. She laid WHhm ^ silence on
her mother's boflHV^J) frivolous,
nature was the naflH^^Bf01?an, and
the one great tridBHBB^^P^ a
woman's life, appe^flHSSn as a trial
and a triumph sooiSfljHjp her own
child, touched fibers^^HBljtf^'dened
surface of her still
"My poor darling,'B0H^B" have
-mtL t
"He 'doesn't care
Son may wii|
him back to you by a -word?and do yon
hesitate to say the word ? I shall tell
lrim !v
Stella suddenly drew herself away
from her mother's caressing arm.
"If you do," she cried, "no word*;
can say how inconsiderate and how
cruel I shall think yon. Promise, on
your -word of honor, promise you will
leave ifc to me I"
cc TTT-ll ? 1J1 I-- Ti? t i
>> in vuu wjix iiiiu vuurseix ii j. leave
it to you
" Yes?at my own time. Promise !"
" Hush, hush; don't excite yourself,
my love; I promise. Give me a kiss.
I declare I am agitated myself I" she
exclaimed, falling back into her customary
manrer. oucn a snocs to my
vanity, Stella?the prospect of becoming
a grandmother! I really must ring
for Matilda, and take a few drops of led
lavender. Be advised by me, my poor (
dear, and we will turn the priest out of :
the house yet. When Romayne comes |
back from his ridiculous retreat?after ,
his fasting and flaggellation, and heaven
knows wha" besides?then bring him
to his senses; then is the time to tell ,
him. Will you think of it?" ?
"Yes; I will tliink of it." ! ]
,;And one word more before Ma ilda E
comes in. Remember the vast import- j
ance of having a male heir to Vange j
A.l>bey. On these occasions you may ^
practice "with perfect impunity on the []
ignorance of the men. Tell him you're fc
sure it's going; to be a boy 1" i
Situated in a distant quarter of the a
i'ast western suburb of London, the e
^cuae catted r^e"~iiciTsat sccocrru-arcr t
nidst of a well-kept gardeD, protected r
>n all sides by a high brick wall. Ex- I
?epting the grand gilt cross on the rooi f
)f the chapel nothing revealed exter- c
aally the devotional purpose to which
;ae Roman Catholic priesthood had v
ledicated the building. c
Bat the convert privileged to pass the t
jatos left Protestant England outside, s
md found himself, as it were, in a new c
;or.ntry. Inside the Retreat the pater- t
ml care of the church took possession c
>f him; surrounded him with monastic J
?. . _ r i. J
Simplicity in rns zieau iuub ueuiuuui, j;
wd dazzled him with devotional splenlor
when his religions duties called hi:n y
nto the chapel. The perfect taste?so
seldom found in the modern arrange- g
nont and decoration of convents and s
jhurches in southern countries?showed
tself here, pressed into the service cf
eligion in every part of the house. The "*
everest discipline had no sordid and
lideous side to it in the lietreat. The }
nmatez fasted on spotless table-cloths, /c
md handled knives and l'orks (the hum;ie
servants of half-filled stomachs) with/ *
>ufc a speck o" ' -ieir decent brightness, f
Penitents \ d the steps of t!ie e
Jtar (to " j6 v. xpress!ve Oriei&tal a
>hrase), "e. t r. Friends^LVbernl v
riends, per - ^Totisit the/inmates I
>n stated days, sawcfcpies ybl famous j
loly Families in ^$J^rec6ption-room s
vhicli were reall^ftBRE art, and trod t
l carpet of studjjjv ^^Bodest pre ten
;ioDS, exhibiting??sJ<^Enblems beyond L
eproach in co^^Klesign. Tlio Ec;reat
bad its affSjMesian well; not a E
person in theiwi^^^drank impurity in t
lis water. perfume of incense c
vas percep^i^Bthe corridors. The
loothing aataJsjjKerious silence of the v
)lace was spoilt tied rather than dis- 0
nrbed ifootsteps, and gentle ^
>penin^sfjHrosing of doors. Animal
ife wd$yKven r. presented by a c-it a
n thdKjKaen. And vefc, pervaded b: c
omj|ps era table influeace, the houso v
/On the morning when Mrs. Ejreconrt 1
aid her daughter held their memorable C
nterview by the fireside at Ten Acres;, \
Father Benwell entered one of the pri- c
rate rooms at the Retreat devoted to 0
;he use of the priesthood. The demure s
attendant, waiting humbly for instruclions,
was sent to request the presence i
>f one of the inmates of the house a
lamed Mortleman.
Father Benwell's customary serenity 1
s-as a little raffled on this occasion by | a
in .iMne.w.r.ee of anxiety. More than | e
>nce he looked impatiently toward tin |l
loor: and he never even noticed the j a
last new devotional publications laid j a
invitingly on the table. j f
Dr. Mortleman made bis appearance j r
?a young man and a promising convert, j
"Be seated, my son," Father Ben weil j s
said. Mr. Mor tiers an looked as if 1 c ! r
srould have preferred going down on
[lis knees, but he yielded and took a ,
thair. r_
" I think you Lave been Mr. Bo- r
tnayne's companion for a few days, in c
the boors of recreation?'' the priest be- N
?an. 6
"Yes, Father." ^
" Does he appear to be at all weary ?
Df his residence in this house ?" <
"01. far from it! He feels the be- x
uign influence of the Retreat; we have <
[iad some delightful hours together." t
" tt __ JV? X - iCM
nave you anyming 10 repuis,j
Mr. Mortleman crossed bis hands on i
liis breast and bowed profoundly. e
" I have to report of myself, Father, ]
that I have committed the sin of pre- ]
t sumption. I presumed that Itfr. Ror
marne was, like my?elf, not married."
i " Did I tell you that lie was not mar
I "No, Father."
^ t
! " Then you have committed no sin.
You have only made an excusable mis
take. How were you led into error?"
"In this way, Father. Mr. Eomayne
lio/3 l"\oon CTkAolrin r* f a m Ck o
which you had been so good as to send
| him. He had been especially interested
by the memoir therein contained of the
illustrious Englishman, Cardinal Acton.
The degrees by which his eminence
rose to the ranks of a prince of the
church seemed, as I thought, to jhave
nroused in my friend a new sense of vocation.
He asked me if I myself aspired
to beloug to the holy priesthood. 1
answered that this was indeed my aspiration,
if I might hope to be found worthy.
He appeared to be deeply affected, j
T A .1 L _ 1. it 1. - L 1- - *1 il .
x YemrjJTCU. tu asii. n uv, wu, una me
same prospect before Mm. He grieve.1
me indescribably. He sighed and said:
"I have no such hope; lam married.
Tell me, Father, I entreat yon, have I
done wrong ?'
Father Benwell considered for a mo
"Did Mr. Komayne say anything
ignore!" he asked.
j*' No, father."
r Did you attempt to retnrn to the
suBjject ?"
" IMhonght it best to be silent."
Father Benwell held out his hand.
" Mjj? young friend, you have not only
done/no wont" you have shown the
most | commendable discretion. I wili
detain\you no longer from your dnties.
Go to Mfr. Romayne and say that I wish
to spealn with him."
Mr. ]\Kortleman dropped on one knee
and bagged for a blessing. Father
Benw^l gave the blessing.
Lew by himself again, Father Benwell
patced the room rapidly from end to
end. fche disturbing influence in his
face haB now changed from anxiety to
I'll try at to-day," he said to himself,
and stopped, and looked around
Lirvt A r\rtK+ V n 11 tt " l-v/%
112.UJ. *-* UUIJIM. lAiiJ . O-'l V} UV U UVi t-j
decided; "fit may get talked about too
soon. It Wi 1 be safer in every way at my
lodgings.'j He recovered his composure <
md returned to his chair.
Romayne opened the door. <
The Rouble influence of the conver- <
sion an/d of the life in the Retreat had ]
ilread^ changed him. His customary $
seennejss and excitability of look had 3
>ubsid/ed, and had loft nothing in their ]
jlace <but an expression of suave and (
nedimtive repose. All his troubles j
vere /now in the hands of his priest.
Chere( was a passive regularity in his
>odihf movements, and a beatific serenty
in Jhis smile. 1
"Sir dear friend," e.aid Father Ben- i
veil,I)cordially shaking hands, "you t
vere pood enough to be guided by my c
dvicsb in entering this house. Be gnid- t
d. bk-?c again _whexL_Xsav.th.it.rmr _r
tava been Here long enough, xou can r
etam, after an interval, if you wish it. j
>ltfE 1 liavo something lo eiiy iu juu j
ir^t, and I beg to offer tlie hospitality a
?f jmj lodgings." E
trhe time had been when Romayne
rciuld have asked for some explanation
this abrnpt notice of removal. Now
ik passively accepted the advice of his s
piritnal dictator. Father Benwell
a S
oiade the necessary commtmication to
hie authorities, and Eomayne took leave
if his friends in the Retreat. The great
esuifc and the great landowner left the
>ljace in a cab.
yl hope I have not disappointed ^
ofc," said Father Benwell.
h I am only anxious," Romayne an- ^
veered, <:to hear what you have to ^
w" d
{ ?
/On their way through the streets, &
lather Benwell talked as persistently F
>f the news of the day as if he had P
tothing else in his thoughts. To keep aj
asTJ5SQps3Hdn'-s--?iBd-ia-a-stp.te of sus>ense
was, in certain emergencies, to fl:
xert a useful preparatory influence over
. man of Eom'ayne's eharaeter. Even
fhen they reached his lodgings the w
>riest still hesitated to annroach the ob- ^
ect that he had in view. He made coniderate
inquiries in the character of a
lospr table man. i 'c
They breakfast early at the Ee treat,"
tesaid. "What may I offer you?" p
"I want nothing, thank rou.," Eoaayne
answered, with an effort to con- .
rol his habitual impatience of needless
lelay. **
"Pardon me?we have along inter- m
iew before us, I fear. Our bodily ne:essities,
Eomayne (excuie me if I take
he friendly liberty of suppressing the 01
ormid 'Mr.')?our bodily necessities a
re not to be trifled with. A bottle ^
>f my famous claret, and a few biscuits **
rill not hurt either of us." Ee rang P1
he bell and gave the necessary direc- ^
ions, "Another damp day," he went ^
?n, cheerfully. " I hope you don't paj
he rheumatic penalties of a winter resifn
"Rn eland? Ah. this arloriou? m
iouniry would be too perfect if it pos- aJ
essed the delicious climate of Rome!" ^
The wine and biscuits wei:e brought n:
n. Father Benwell filled the glasses
,nd bowed cordially to his guest.
" Nothing of this sort at the Retreat," I
le said, gayly. "Excellent water, I 91
.m told?which is a luxury in its way, a(
specially in London. "Well, my dear &
/iomiyne, I must begin by making my ei
ipologie.'>. You, no doubt, thought me S
, little abrupt in running aw?,y with you ic
rom your retirement, at a moment's tc
lotice?" ei
" I believed that you had good Tea- a J
ions, Father, and that was enough for f=
ae." b
" Thank you; you do me justice; it
vas in your best interests that."[ acted, tl
["here are men of phlegmatic tempera- "
nent, over whom the- wise monotony of k
liscipline at the Retreat exercises a h
wholesome influence?I mean an in flu- s<
;nce -which may be prolonged with ad- b;
rantage. You are not one of those per- p:
?ons. Protracted seclusion and monot- g
ray of life are morally and mentally
mprofitable to a man of your ardent eu
lisposition. I abstained from men;ioning
these reasons at the time out ol h
i feeling of regard for our excellent iJ
esident director, who believes unre- a
jervadly in the institution over which ai
le presides. Very good. '[Che Retreat a
las done all that it*could usefully do a:
m your case. Vfe must- think next oi
how to employ that mental activity
which, rightfully developed, is one oi
the most valuable qualities that yon
possess. Let me ask, first, if you have
in some degree recovered your tranquillity?"
"I feel like a different man, Father
"That's right! And your nervous
T 3 T.-1 il *
simemigs?jl uon i; ass wear tney are, i
only want to know if you experience a
sense of relief ?"
"A most welcome sense of relief,"
Romayne answered, with a revival of
the enthusiasm of other days. " The
complete change in all my thoughts
and convictions which I owe to you?"
"And to dear Penrose," Father Benwell
interposed, with [the prompt sense
of ustice which no man could more becomingly
assume. "We must not forget
"Forget him?" Romayne repeated.
" Not a day passes without my thinking
of him. It is one of the happy results
of the change in me that my mind does
not dwell bitterly on the loss of him
now. I think of Penros^vatli admirat
on, as of one whose glorious Jife, with
all its dangers, I should like to share."
He spoke with a rising color and
brightening eyes. Already the absorbent
capacity of the Roman Church had
drawn to itself that sympathetic side ol
his character which, was also one of its
strongest sides. Trulyand deeply indeed
had the physician, consulted in
bygone days, reasoned on Eomayne's
case! That"occurrence of some new
and absorbing influence in his life," oJ
which the doctor had spoken?that
" working of some complete change in
his habits of thought"?had found its
way to him at last, after the wife s simple
devotion had failed, through the
enVflAK AC 1
"No," said Father Benwell, " Yoni
life must not be the life of our deai
friend. The service on which the
Church employs Penrose is not the fit
service for you. Yon have other claims
on us." Komayne looked at his spiritual
adviser with a momentary cliange oi
expression, a relapse into the ironical
bitterness of the past time.
" Have you forgotten that I am, acd
can be, only a layman?" ho asked.
"What claims can I Slave, except the
common claim of all :Eaithful member^
of the church on the good offices of tM
priesthood?" He paused for a momerft,
md continued with the abruptness of a
nan struck by a new idea. "les! 1
lave perhaps one small claim of my
>wn~the claim of being allowed to do
ny duty."
Tr? TcT^n/f. *rocrrui/*4: A .say T?/^mr^Tm/^0,,
" Surely, you can gness? I am a rich
nan; I have money lying idle, which it
8 my duty (and my privilege) to devote
otho charities and necessities of the
ihureh. And, while X am speaking of
his, I must own that" *m a little suririsM
of, your; having >aid nothing to '
lie on tlid biiujcco. jlv^u mufc j
>ointed out to me the manner In which (
; might devote my money to the best .
,nd noblest uses. Was it forgetful- .
iess on your part?"
Father Ben well shook his head. ]
" No," he replied; " I can't honestly j
ay that."
"Then you had a reason for youi
?/ n r T 1 1 "i. ]
** luay jl hoi jshuw is r
Father Benwell got up and waited to ^
Le fireplace. Now there are various
lethods of getting up and walking to a ^
replace, and they find their way to out- 1
ard expression through the customary ^
leans of look and manner. We may ^
>el cold, and may only want to warm *
urselves. Or we may feel restless and <
lay need an excuse for changing our ?
osition. Or we may feel modestly con- )
lsed, and ma.y be anxious to hide it. 1
'ather Benwell, from head to foot, ex- t
ressed modesit confusion and polite r
Qxiefcy to hide it. i
"My-good friend," he said, "I am 1
Eraid of hurting your feelings." c
Romayne was a sincere convert, but s
lere were instincts still left in him i
hich resented this expression of re- s
ard, even when it proceeded from a a
ian whom he respected and admired." $
"You will hurt my feelings," he an- r
vered, a little sharply, " if you are not
lain with me."
"Then I wiill be plain with you," t
ather Ben well rejoined. " The church g
-speafcmg tnraugn me as her unworthy ^
terpreter?feels a certain delicacy in j
>proaching you on the subject of
oney." ^
" Why ?' g
Father Ben well left the fireplace with- ^
it immediately answering. He opened
drawer and took ont of it a flat ma- .
jgany box. His gracious familiarity ^
acame transformed by some mysterious ^
rocess of congelation into a dignified ^
irmality of manner. The priest took -jie
place of the man. n
" The church, Mr. Eomayne, hesitates
> receive, as benevolent contributions,
oney derived from property of its own .
bitrarily taken from it and placed in a
yman's hands. No 1" he cried, inter- ^
ipting Eomayne, who instantly under- j.
;ood the allusion to Yange Abbey.
No! I must beg you to hear mo out.
state the case plainly at your own relest.
At the same time I am bound to i
Imif. f.Tust. fho lanaA nf ^pnt.nripq "has, rn H
ie eje of the law, sanctioned the delib- l
rate act of robbery perpetrated by
"enrv the Eighth. Yon have lawfully 1
ilierited Yange Abbey from your ances- c
>rs. The church is not unreasonable t
lough to assert a merely moral right
gainst the law of the country. It may 1
:el the act oi spoliation?but it sub- 35
its." He unlocked the flat mahogany r
ox and gently dropped his dignity; <3
ie man took the place of the priest.
As the master of Yange," he said, "you s
Lay be interested in looking at a little 1
istorical curiosity which we have prejrved.
The title-deeds, dear Bomayne, c
y which the monks held your present "v
roperty in their time. Take another c
lass of wine." c
Romayne looked at the tiUe-deeds 1
n/3 lai.^ f.Ti Am aside unread. \
Father Benwell had roused liis pride, r
is sense of justice, his wild and lavish 3
istincts of generosity. He who had c
lways despised money?except when it r
ssumed its only estimable cluiracter as v
means for the attainment of merciful f
ad noble ends?he was in possession of f
' property to which he had no'moral right, |
without even the poor excuse of associa- j
' tions which attached him to the place. !
" I hope I have no-.!; offended you ?' '
said Father Benwell.
"You have made me ashamed of myself,"
Bomayne answered, warmly. "On
the day when I became a Catholic I
ought to have remembered Vange. Bet- J
i f-i- J.1 T P . i !
ter laoe tuau never. . x reixise zo ta?e ?
shelter under the law?I respect the
moral right of the church. I will at
once restore the property which 1 have
Father Benwell took both Roms.yne's
hands .in bis and pressed them fervently.
" I am proud of you!" he said. <c"We
shall all be proud of you when I -write
word to Borne of what has passed between
us. But?no. Bomayne, this
must not be! I admire you, I feel with
^ < y-v i 1
you; ana x reiuse.. un oeuaii 01 tne
church, I say it?I refuse the gift-1 *
" Wait a little, Father Ben well! You
don't know the state of my affairs. 1
don t deserve the admiration which you
.feel for me. The loss of the Yange
property will be -so pecuniary loss in
inycase. I have inherited a fortune
from my aunt. My income from that
source is far larger than my income
from the Yorkshire property."
"Komayne, it must not be."
"Pardon me, it must be. I have
more money than I can spend without ;
Vange. And I have painful associations 1
with the house which disincline me
ever to enter it again." '
Even this confession failed to move ^
Father Beuwell. He obstinately crossed ^
his arm3, obstinately tapped his foot on
the floor. ?
t: No," he said. " Plead as generous1.? i
as you may. my answer is; No." *
Romayne only became more resolute 1
on his side. ]
" The property is absolutely my own," I
he persisted. "I am withont a near s
relation in the world. I have no chil- a
dren. My wife, if I die before her, will *
be amply provided for. It is downright ^
obstinacy-'iorgive me for saying so?to
persist in yonr refusal."
"It is downright dntv, Romayne. If
I gave way to yon, I should be tho means "
of exposing the priesthood to the vilest j ^
misinterpretation. I should be deserv- | ^
edly reprimanded, and your proposed I ^
deed of gift would, without a moment's ; ^
hesitation, be torn up. If you have any j fcc
T *
regard lor me, drop tne subject." u'
Eomayne refused to yield, even to ^
this Tin answerable appeal. P1
"Veiy well," he said, "there is one ^
document you can't tear up. You can't d(
interfere with my making another will. Ci
I shall leave the Yaage property to the w
church, and I shall appoint you one of 311
the trustees. You can't object to that."
Even rigorous Father Benwell was 5V
now at a loss for any further expression
of honorable protest. He could only f*3
?3 3. .. ft 3 3 ? 0 ? *0
mediate change of subject. "fto more>
dear Eomayne, you distress me? "What
were we talking of before this unfor- sp
tunate topic turned np ?"
He filled the glasses, he offered more w
biscuits; he was really_and even percepttbly
agitated. gp
Noticing this unusual expression of ca
feeling, Eomayne began to regret that pr
tie had not more gently expressed his fe<
intentions to his sensitive and excellent ha
In offering the hospitality of his ev
lodgings the Vange property had been
she object which Father Benwell kept
h view. He had gained the victory foi
;he church without (to do him justice) ?
hinting of himself; like Romayne ha fr<
jared nothing for money for his own dii
;ake. The necessity that now remained no
vas to make the victory secure. He to
lad resisted the temptation to accept Rc
;he deed of gift in Romayne's lifetime, yo
Che restoration in that form, while there
emained a possibility of an heir being to
jorn to the estate, would, under those pe
iircumstances, havo led to a public
vandal. On the other hand, a testa stl
nentary legacy (especially in the ab- " 1
pnr.a of an hair) would be an nnassail- is i
,ble proof of the testator's attachment m?
0 the church of which he had become a sj]
aember. Still, even with these prosactive
advantages, adverse chances
night lead, as things were, to a revocaion
of the will unless some serious oh- J
tacle could be placed in the way of any ^
ature chauge of purpose on the part of
Father Benwell had long since made m
p his mind as to the choice of an obtacle.
The agitation which he be- s*e
rayed had its origin in his own keen
ense of the perils that threatened him
1 safely setting the obstacle up. Uner
astute encouragement Eomayne had
ecome a Catholic, and had pledged j.
imself to restore the Vange property, in
fader astute encouragement there re-' ?oe
IttlLlCU UiiO 1UVJ.C Vi OUUXUiOOlVli ll03
irions and even formidable in the con- t^e
equencss that it involved?into which waj
t was now necessary to lead the ne'w
onvert. Even the priest's steady nerves ^
rere shaken by the prospect before exe
im. thii
****** mai
Romayne sat looking thoughtfully was
nto the fire. Father Benwell, walking unc
ip and down the room, was the first to Sra
ireak the silence. ^
""What was it I had to say to yon?" jn ie
resumed. " Surely, I was speaking tka
m the snbject of your future life, and
he right employment of your energies?'- ^
" You are very kind, Father Benwell. en(j
.fie subject nas utue in teres u xur mc. urn
ly future life is shaped out?domestic o\o
etirement, ennobled by religion* so 1
I ? V w maJ
tuties." 8ke
Still pacingthe room, Father BenweH 0th
topped at that reply, and put his hand firs
indly on Eomayne's shoulder. -rai
"We don't allow a good Catholic to ^
Irift into domestic retirement who is an(^
rorthy of better things," he said. " The ban
hurch, Eomayne, wishes to make use of r
if you. I never flattered anyone in mj S13^
ife; but I may say before your face
rhat I have said behind your back. A ^
aan of your strict sense of honor, ol jan
nf -crmr M&h aSDiratioUS. arVi
Ulu 0 A- . .?
>f yonr personal charm and influence, is and
tot a man whom we can allow to run to *?e'
paste. Open yonr mind, my friend,
airly to me, and I will open my mind ^
airly to yon Let me set the example. str<
ra g???aca? 11 ?en?MMnro
! I say it, with authority, an enviabli
| future is before you."
j Komayne's pale cheeks flushed witl
; excitement.
! "What future?" he asked, eagerly,
1 "Am I free to choose? Must I reminc
you that a man with a wife cannot fhinV
only of himself?'
" Suppose you were not a man with a
14"What do you mean?"
"Romajne, I am trying to break my
way through that inveterate reserve
which is one of the failings in your
character. Unless you can prevail upou
yourself to tell me those secret thoughts,
those unexpressed regrets which you can
confide to no other man, this conversation
must come to an end. You have
found a refuge in the bosom of the
Catholic church. Is there no yearning
in your inmost soul for anything beyond
the position which you now occupy?"
There was a pause. The flush on Komayne's
face faded away. He was
"You are not in the confessional,"
Either Ben well reminded him, with
melancholy submission to circumstances.
"You are under no obligation
to answer me."
Bomayne roused himself. He spoke
in low, reluctant tones. "I am afraid
to answer you," he said.
That apparently discouraging reply
armed Father Benweil with the absolute
confidence of success which he had thus
far failed to feel. He wound his waj
deeper and deeper into Bomayne's mind
srith the delicate ingenuity of penetration
of which the practice of years had
made him master.
" Perhaps I have failed to make myself
clearly understood," he said. "I
vill try to put it more plainly. You
T,-. T>
no u.\> Aisui.-JJ.caa *ICU mail, XVOInaTEe.
iVhat you believe, you believe fervently,
impressions are not dimly and slowly
>roduced on your micd. As the necesary
result, your conversion being once
ccomplislied, your whole soul is given
o the faith that is in you. Do I read
our character rightly ?*
" So far as I know it?yes."
Father Benwell went on.
" Bear in mind what I have just said,"
eTesumed, "and you will understand
hy I feel it my duty to press the ques
:on which you have not answered yet. ,
ou have found in the Catholic faith i
le jpeace of mind which yoQ have failed !
> obtain by other .means. If I had been |
saline with an ordinarv man T shonld .
ive expected from tlie change no hap- <
ier results than this. But I ask yen
is that blessed influence taken no jeper
and nobler hold on your heart 5 }
m you say to me, 'I am content with <
hat I have gained; I wish for no ^
ore?" s
" I cannot truly say it," Eomayne an- c
The time had now come again for c
leaking plainly. Father Benwell no t
nger advanced to his end under cover *
"A little while since," he said, "you (
oke of Penrose as of a man whose lot ii
life you longed to share. The career *
lich has associated him with an Indian g
Lssion is, as I told you, only adapted c
a man of his special character and a
ecial gifts. But the career which has ?
rried him into the sacred ranks of the ^
iesthood is open to every man who f
sis the sense of divine vocation which, ti
s made Penrose one of us." :
"No, Father Benwelll Not open to 0
erj man." f
"Isayyfcs." jJ
" It is not open to me." t<
"I say it is open to you. And more fi
I enjoin, I command you to dismiss *
>m your mind all human obstacles and ^
scouragements. They are beneath tiie t]
tice of a man who feels himself called a
the priesthood. Give me your hand,
>mayne! Does your conscience tell ^
u that you are that man?" u
Romayne started to his feet, shaken a\
4-Via c?/\nl T-\tr onlflwnifrf nf fVna o-rv el
"I can't dismiss the obstacles that ?|
rronnd me!" he cried, passionately. ^
[o a man in my position yonr advice e]
absolutely useless. The ties that bind oi
j are beyond the limit of a priest's
"Nothing is beyond the limits of a 0j
iest's sympathies." us
" Father Ben well, I am married!" tl
Father Benwell folded his arms over ni
s breast, looked with immovable reso- p
;ion straight into Eomayne's face, and ?]
nek the blow which he had been
sditating for months past. st
:tKouse your courage," he said,
raly. "You are no more married ^
m I am." ft
[To be continued.)
_ m
A Portrait Sent by Mail. di
i souvenir of the electric exposition
Paris has been brought to this Wl
mtry by the Hon. Strickland Kneass. P*
s a lifelike drawing of the shoulders, E
id, face and mouth of an officer of
French Grenadier guards, which
5 transmitted a considerable distance ,
electricity. The drawing is about SiJ
inches loner bv three wide, on ordi
y white paper, and the method of a'eating
this remarkable feat was in
i wise: The original sketch was m'
3e by hand in the form of dots, at
fcallic ink being nsed. The sheet stl
i then placed on a table directly *h
ler the pointer uf an ordinary teleph
wire. This pointer was moved 1S
idly to and fro over the drawing, a
eiver at the other end being worked
precisely the same way. Each time m
t the pointer came in contact with ^
metallic ink dots the circuit was in
?ed and a corresponding impression
3e upon a piece of paper at the other w<=
I of the line. This process was con- tei
led until every dot had been carried
r the wires, and tne transmission was ab
perfect that without a distinguishing 00
rk the person who made the original
tch could not have t:ld one from the
er. The words ' Parteouneaux,
t brigadier de .fans," were also ?
ismitted in fac-simile. During the .
;ion o the congress letters were
tten an d transmitted by electricity, .
; signatures to checks and notes of ,W1
id are now being forwarded hundreds
niles in the same manner in the
er republic.
' SP
.nother monster devil-fish has re- pv
tly been secured on the Newfound- wi
i coast. The creature was driven pr
ore by the high tide at Portugal cove be
[ secured by fishermen. It is 33 ca
t long from the tail to the termina- m<
1 of the long tentacles. This is tha
t fresh, complete, unmutilated speen
secured and landed of this mon- nu
>us fish. fr<
j The Great Tunnel thai is to Connect New
York and Jersey City?Working on the
Jfew Tunnel Beneath the River's Bank.
A reporter of the New York Herald
I stood tinder the Hudson river 550 feet
from the New Jersey shore. He was in
the Hudson turmeL Fifty feet overhead
rolled the water of the river,
some of which trickled through the
great walls of mud and dripped monotonously
into the chamber, where, by the
electric light, about twenty men were
in^ncfrinriulTT nr/\>Vvr>ft Tf titoo n
scene. The men looked like spirits, |
and very dirty ones at that Their
spades were noiseless in the work, even
thongh a whisper was magnified by the
compressed air that made a visitor's
head buzz, but did not seem to affect
the men in the least. There were two
things that connected the scene with the
realistic world and forced the belief
that it was not all a fancy. One was the
presence of General W. Sooy Smith,the
chief engineer of the company, and the
other the telephone, that looked as natural
and comfortable as it might have
looked in the corridor of the Fifth
Avenne. This tAlfitihonfi is ttiavaiI fnr
ward under the river as the work
progresses, and communicates at the
shore end with the'engine roont- The
jingle of the b<?F-by1;he superintendent
on duty at the r heading " is heard by
the engineer. Perhaps a corner of the ;
overhanging mnd appears to be settling. ?
The telephone conveys the order to .
increase or reduce the air pressure, i
as necessity requires, and the order is i
obeyed instantiy. The presence of the 1
telephone seemed to have an assuring j
loo? It xvasthe only connection with <
the outside world, save by a lo g jour* j
ney through air locks and chambers and ]
shafts,and up steps an (^ladders innumer- i
able to the bottom of the great shaft, to j
the top level of which the waters hissed i
and bubbled on that awful July day of t
1880 when so many men lay buried 3
under tens of clay far below. There has t
been a great change since then in the ;
appearance of everything, and probably \
the miners worked without a thought c
of the fact that they were 500 feet g
further out than the spot where their t
comrades had met death, so bravely. g
The dirt as fast as dug out was 1
thrown by the diggers into a sort of c
trough, through which a stream of n
water was constantly forced by a power- <3
ful steam pump on shore. There I
were two pipes, one of which forced S
the water in, and the other which drew e
the mud and water out of the chamber li
through the air locks and completed e
tunnel up to an enormous tank on si
shore, where the mud settled and the 1<
water flowed away into a reservoir to u
be u>ed again. It is an ingenious ai
apparatus and seemed to work like a al
charm. It did awaj with the tedious tc
md laborious method of filling the silt j tl
into cars and dragging it to the_ shore | si
jnd, to be iioisted to daylight. Its use ; fi<
nakes the work easier and quicker in : p<
svery way. t vs
_ One tunnel is cow 550 feel from, the : fiN'ew
Jersey chore, the other is about: th
L50 feet. They are progressing at the J
ate of between three and five feet each i
lay. There is no suspension of the J
york. The men, divided into "shifts," j
tucceed each other with the regularity i he
>f clockwork. Day and night, week-;00
lay, holiday and Sunday, the digging i
joes on. Each foot of new work is j th
arefully propped and secured and the j do
unnei is folly arched and cemented [ ?r<
or several hundred feet beyond the J ^
!.rifOu TTi?' i'Zi'i,?*jx> .. "tijCO nf.-u.n atnn Trritn ; th
)ne tunnel is lower than the other and I
b was found that an equal pressure of arir
would not do. So a system of bulk-1caLeads
was adopted which works very;*3
atisfactory, both to the engineers in .3311
harge and to the men themselves, who ! ?*
re very quick to appreciate anything m<
hat is done for their comfort or safety, j ax
5y means of these bulkheads it is now | 28
ossible to do away with compressed ori
ir at the completed or shore end of the j ?*
annel which is also lighted with elec- j *h
cicity. The entrance is still at the |
Id shaft, although the caisson that was !
ank after the accident is about forty J ^ni
jet nearer the river. A long and wind-m
ig stairway leads down the great shaft;
3 the mouth of the old air-lock in which ; ^
re or six men were drowned. This ; ^
Ir-lock is now kept open at both ends, sa
nt is iiardly large enough for two men p*)"p?5S
in opposite directions. Passing
irough with body bent one comes on im
little wooden platform, from which | ?*
aother pair of stairs lead down about sti
*elve feet further to the bottom of the
innel proper. Here the two tunnels
nite, and a large electric light hangs 210
t the junction, casting fantastic ?*
ladows on the slimy walls. j *0]
A small railway track leads down P*
ich of the tunnels and a car is now .
rawn to the first bulkhead with
lengthening timbers, brick or anything : es*
ise that is necessary for the progress , or(
t the work.
Looking out from this point towards
le middle of the river the scene is a pelliar
one, and there is a greater ^
expressiveness about the place than is ^
snal with underground work. The ?
lought that the river rolls overhead is
ppermost in the mind of the visitor, ?
3d one can imagine the face of heroic ___
eter Woodland peering out of the
late-glass windows of the air-lock. j *r
" This is the spot where Woodland \ *
ood," said one of the superintendents, ' '
when he gave the men directions to jrc
iss out, and this is the spot where he ?r
ive his final command to break out f
Le deadlight and save themselves." i. ^
The reader of the Herald will reember
that Woodland was one of the ^
iperintenderts at the tim6 of the ?rc
saster, and was heioically cool and V18
ave even after the advancing water - n
?s up to his chin. His spirit seems to
srvade all the men, and the reporter
iver saw laboring men display so much ve?j
inrtesv towards each other as he saw >wn
under the river. J
Passing forward toward the New York 8 n
.ore the tunnel is found to be com- ?we3
eted for several hundred feet. It has P01
I been bricked and cemented and is
/, with the exception of a certain Pro
oisture made bv the condensation of arLC
* v ?- y in j an ,
mospnere. up xo me ouisneaa zma :
ite of affairs exists; beyond that, :
rough the air locks, the men are at exa
>rk digging ontthe silt and everybody ; ma
wet and muddy. There are two air ; a.n:
;ks leading into the extreme end, one nV*:
which is kept always open, so that: ^ 1
case of real danger the men may ;
irry into it. The longer one remains ??
the tunnel, however, the more the ; 3?1
ipression increases that everything is !
>11 ordered and safe, and that tiie sys- .
cn of discipline is very perfect.
It is expected that under fairly favor- cou
le circumstances the work will be
mplete J in about two years and a-half. ^
A Big Baby. P>i
Sarah Jane Koland, of "Waynesville, was
, is eight yearn old, twenty-seven ' riar
;hes high and weighs eighteen pounds, j Car
le looks like a baby of two years, ' yea
th the exception of a mature look in ; atti
r face and eyes. " No bigger than a j sch
inute or a piece of chalk," it was dif- | on 5
in fn roo M<zo f.Viat. on^Vi a diminntivft i frm
ecimen of humanity could weigh even i life
jhteen pounds avoirdupois. Her ! stai
es are dark and "bright and overhnng ! pet
th long silken lathes. She is well- j froi
oportioned in body, the only thing ! wh<
ing an amplitude of forehead, indi- the
ting an unhealthy mental develop- the
\ A
It is the care of a very great part of ren
mkind to conceal their indigence woi
)m the rest. at I
Musical Fish.
That some fish make an approach -to
vocal performances bj emitting tones
was known to Aristotle, who specifies .
sis different kinds. The family of the
Haigres are famous for the sounds they
make on being drawn from the water,
and also when remaining in it These *
fish are remarkable for the size and
complicated structure of their air-bladders,
which, however,in many instances ijlp
seem to have no external openings; and great
cavernous recesses existing in the
crania of many, it lias been suggested
that these sinueses may afford the true
explanation of the phenomena. In some
of the genera they are more striking
than in others; and one of ther most ^ '
remarkable, the Pogonia (of the Maigre
family) had acquired the popular name
of drum-fish. The sounds seem to.
vary widely in their character and tones,
and are described in very different not
to say discrepant, terms, being designated
sometimes as dull hummings, at
other times sharp whistlings and fre
quently as the fishes' song. It has
sometimes been supposed that they are
uttered by the males aioce, aa.d the
quently Collect a troop-of the fishes
putting.their ears to the "gunwale of
their bo&? c&il often r^dily'perceive the" ; ,'7isounds,
though at the depth of twenty
fathoms, and thus guided can success- '7
fully cast their nets and procure a
draught. Lieutenant White, of the
amencan service, in His " voyage to tbe
China Sea," published in 1884 relates
that, being at the month of the Cambodia,
his crew and himself were greatly rfistonished
by hearing certain unaccountable
sounds from beneath and :
ironnd the vessel. These were various,
:ike the bass notes of an organ, the
sound of bells, the croaking of frogs,
md a pervading twang which the 'j?,
imagination might have attributed to :
;li? vibrations of some enormous harp. :<g|S3
far a time the mysterious music swelled 3^1
iponthem, and finally formed a uni-- : '
rersal chorus all round, but as the :-5j
essel ascended the river the sounds
liminished in strength and soon alto- ^gg
:ether ceased. Humboldt was witness
o a similar occurrence in the South
tea, dui wieqoiie snspccting me cause. , >-a
toward seven in the evening the whole
rew were astounded by an extraordiary
noise which. resembled that of
rums which were beating in tLe air.
t was at first attributed^) the breakers. ,>
Ipeedily it was heard in the vessel, and
specially toward tiie poop. It was .3
ke a boiling, the noise of the air which
scapes from fluid in ebullition. The - ''-M
lilors began to fear there was some
jak in the vessel. It was heard
nceasingly in all parts of the vessel, ,^8
id finally, about 9 o'clock, it ceased
together. The interpreter belonging
> Lieutenant White's ship stated that
le marine music whioh had so much ^
Lrprised the crew was produced by
shes of a flattened oval form, which i*jjm
jsse^sed the faculty of adhering to - - %
.rions bodies by their mouths. Thia
>Lt mi^ht have been the Pogonia.?All
s YearRour.cL
China's Army.
The troops which compose what may
i regarded as the regular army of China
nsist, it is estimated, of only 140,000
an. These receive monthly pay at
e rate of from five dollars to eight
'liars, and a daily ration of rice. They
9 lodged in barracks, and supplied
th arms from the Government; but
PV kw in TirAV7-^^r;r own cUfthfaff,
e nominal effective ot tne uwnese
my to 700,000 infantry, and 227,000
valry, can hardly be regarded as
gular troops, since they have to '
lintain themselves by cultivating ?
ound allotted them by the Govern- :|^ai
int. Most of these men are married,
id their sons at their birth are enrolled
future recruits for the army. The
ganization and conditions of service
the cavalry are similar to those of
e Russian irregular horse, to whom
ey are admitted, even by Russian
iters, to be in no way inferior. On *"^8
0 other hand, the artillery of the !
my is miserably inefficient. The "".f^gg
moer of guns is large, but they are of
xuiereiiu uuuuuioutore, 1121 vo
age nor accuracy, and are badly
rved. The number of fortifications in >
dna is extraordinarily great. No '"-"yM
ver than 1,709 towns are fortified
fch walls and ditches, while thousands
fortified posts of greater or less ri-Ji
ength are scattered over the country. >J|a
jst of the latter, however, consist only
brick walls with ditches, and would
t be capable of withstanding the fire
even light field pieces. The only
rtifications in China which can cmore
with modem European works are
ds6 constructed for the defense of the
iho or for the protection of other
;uaries, and which are armed with
inance purchased in Europe.
A Master of Twenty-Six Trades.
Ransom Cook, who died &t Saratoga
t summer, was master of twenty-six
des, and owner of seventeen patents.
long the latter was one for the im)vementin
the manufacture of wrought
n and steel cannon. This idea was
aropriated by Sir "William Armstrong, .
o made both fame and fortune ont
it. Among the other patents was
3 for a lunch case, one for a fan
iwer, one for a hydraulic apparatus
producing a blast, for an improved
ctro-magnetic ore separator (made
Mr. Cook when eighty years old) an r'- m
provement in blast pipes for carrying ' \ J
ited air and gases to furnaces, an imminent
in scissors, an improved bor;
instrument known as the "Cook JM
ger," an improved machine for tnrn;
the lips of augers, an improved bit '
boring wood, an improvement in
itilating and excluding dust from M
w&y cars, an improved exhaust Can,
I an improvement in the mode of .
lining saws for saw-mills. There
re several others of more or less im- . 1
tance. Some of his inventions, parllarlv
the patent auger, were very
'Stable. He was making a machine,
I wanted an auger that would bore at
angle with the grain without starting
h a gouge. He hit upon the idea of
mining the tips of the worm com- j
uly known as the wood-borer, with
licroscope, and from this model, fur- -V
pea oy nature, lie maae ais auger,
ich was very successful. His work- \-?fl
p was a curiosity. He made all his :
i models, and had engines and ma- .
aery well ^adapted to the purpose.
also accumulated one of the most 4*
iple^e and valuable collections of
-ntific and mechanical books in the
The Cat Woman.
l woman died recently at Philadela
in squalor at the age of fceventyht
who, irom a singular monomania, ^9
; called " the cat woman." Her
ae was Myers, she came from South
olina to a Philadelphia school sixty
rs ago, when she was a handsome,
1." ---1 .ii. J_ ?
racuve gJLfi, aiterwiurub utu^uu a
ool there, finally became irrational
some subject and developed a strange -V<H
dness for cats. She lived a solitary
, supported by i ienda, and almo 8 t ;*
:ved herself to feed her numerou
s, allowing them to steal her food fl
3i the table and going inAo ecstacies
in an adroit pussy wonld jump over JM
hot stove and get a bit of meat from -J|
l Paris surgeon received $5,000 for . _ .V
Loving a-wart from the nose of^-^jgjS
nan who wasn't very

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