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NEW HAVEN MORNING JOURNAL AND COURIER, SATURDAY, JULY 21, 1894.
TALES OF TEN TRAVELERS. THE VERGERS' DAUGHTERS. BT BIXIA L. WAKBMKH. (Copyright IBM. All riuhtt reearvedj "However othere may feel." began the clerical traveler rumlnatlvely and with iorm hesitation. "I never enter an Old-world cathedral without awe In my heart apart and dlitlnct from that di rect and unconscious reverence which the sacred character of the structure Impels." "This Is because I stand In a spot which Is a tomb of Innumerable per sonages who have assisted In making, or have gained places In the world's history; because the upbuilding, preser vation, destruction,, rehabilitation of what my hands may touch or eyes be hold, have often changed dynasties, Impoverished treasuries, created pil grimages and sacrificed countless lives; and more than all else because, for cen tury after century, thousands upon thousands of great minds have with matchless fidelity given of their best effort or absolutely their lives' devo tion, towards the perfection of this mighty prayer in stone. I mention this personal feeling and tendency In these matters because they connected me with a pleasant life ro mance growing out of a reverential pll grlmage.durlng my earlier years among the cathedrals of England; and I will relate the somewhat curious incidents, as nearly as I can recall them, precise as they occurred." Through the generosity, of my patron and uncle, Klrby Dorklin, who had re turned from his extensive mining oper ations at Ballarat in time to witness my ordination, I had taken orders at Oxford, had Just entered orders and was as happy, hopeful and proud a young clergyman as could be found in all the United Kingdom. As for Klrby Dorklin, his happiness knew no bounds. At times It took on the form of almost ecstatic imbecility. He, would sit by the half hour and regard me with grin ning face, open mouth and a trembling little shake of his grizzled old head, which would always terminate in his always closing his eyes and giving vent to some explosive expression In dicative of his lack of verbal power to fully convey his enjoyment. "Bless me! bless me! Robert Dork lin," he would say, "it's all like the gold of Ballarat twenty-three and a half karats fine, In every pennyweight o' thlnkin' of it; so it is Indeed, Robert Dorklin!" Then the good, grizzled old fellow would stamp up and down the apart ment, puff hard at his pipe, mop his red face, red forehead and the shiny red cfbwn of his hard, knotty neaJ with ' his. fiery red handkerchief and poke his huge walking stick gayly and vle-nrmislv at the furniture and chan delier, as though merrily besting some Invisible antagonist. I would of course, thank him again and again for the kindness which had led to this mutual delight This always had curious results. The bid fellow would stiffen up with: "Not a bit of It! Not a bit of It! Non sense! Tut, tut, tut! Thank the 'toth ter one; not me. Thank the hussey-mussey-fussey; not me. Thank the fudge-budge-mudge: not me. Thank the nlnny-pinny-winny; not me. Aha, wouldn't the 'totber one like to know . how the 'tother one was fooled, and what the 'tother one has missed? Per haps not, though! Bah!" - Then he would whip his arms around Ills DOuy gieeiuiiy, nug mmseiL a.a 11 Inexpressibly enjoying '"tother one's" imaginary discomfiture over his long cunning and present happiness, and temporarily end his strange antics by embracing me and pitifully begging me to' never become .entangled with a "'tother one," In which case all would be well. " , Strange old soul! As grateful to him as I was, as much as I really loved him, despite his often offensive eccentrici ties, there was to me something deeply pathetic In these expressions of child like happiness, thinly disguised victory over the mysterious '"tother one" and his plaintive implied pleadings that no love affair on my part should ever change op lesson the affection between 7 For Uncle Klrby Dorklin, so the leg Mid In our family ran, had suffered In love affair, which had made him What he was, and all he was. A quarter of a century before, some where in England he had come upon a Bilte of a maiden, fair as an English rose. He, had loved this girl madly. Some foolish misunderstanding arose; a week later he had found himself on board a vessel bound for Melbourne, shaking, tals fist in bitterness back at bis native land; and he had never once returned until, 'rich and old In appear ance, If hot in years, he had come to gloat over the success that I, his pro tege, had made, and to lavish upon me an effectlon which In youth had been untimely diverted from Its proper aource. ..J, ., ... So far as our family could learn, he bad never divulged any of the particu lars of the infatuation or Its unfortu nate ending; nor had he written to a friend or relative for years. In a dim way only we all knew that he was pros pering. ' ,. ' Suddenly brief word came that he had decided my career should be a clerical one; and, as an astoundingly large remittance had accompanied this announcement, as well as word that If I minded my ways and did him honor, I should be his only heir, what bad so far happened was but natural and se quential. . . . .'. But:- here.;le' was, a crabbed, gro tesque, hilarious and ecstatic person age; cunning and frank by turns; par simonious and illoglcally generous, as the mood might take him; ogre-like and chlld-Uke In the same moment; in fact, grand nature dwindled and gnarled and, ..In:; places,' distorted r through hia years of brave miserliness , and effort to be rich, simply as an ab " (tract " victory - over disappointment! positively gloating in this pitiful, weak way at the mortification il riches must cause soma mythical or real hu man, and often gibbering in an almost senile exaltation that ha' had finally purchased outright, like a Uallarat mine, the right perforce to human af fection and gratitude. Study him as I might, lay snares for his confidences as I continually dl.1. nil that I could know of his Inner life, save from Its odd every-day expression, was that the "hussey-mussey-fuxiey." the "fudge-budge-mudge" and the "ninny-plnny-wlnny," to whose discomfiture rather than Klrby Dorklln's Inherent generosity I was ceaselessly command ed to attribute my fortune, present and perspective, were simply contemptuous terms for the, to him. omnipresent and Intolerable "'Tother One." And the "Tother One," I saw more and more clearly, must have been, a quarter of a century before, the real cause of the embltterment 'of his life, and had become, In his disordered and pervented mind, an unbearable phan tasm, standing to Klrby Dorklin as the source of every ill to humankind, con centrated In an emanating from the one word Woman. It was an age of romance with me, and I Immediately built a romance about Klrby Dorklln's "'tother one." That strange contrariness In human nature, which affects the relations of men more than is generally allowed, also took possession of me. I treacherously built about the wo man he had loved all manner of bright and gentle attributes. I was even fool ish enough to resolve to find her. If liv ing, and make some sort of love to her myself; or,at least, some secret repar ation for what I felt must have been the crabbed old fellow's Injustice; and, though It is an unpleasant confession, I was actually determined, if my quest should prove successful and I ever came Into possession of Klrby Dorklln's wealth, to divide It fairly with "'Tother One," for what she had suffered far more keenly than the one I conceived to be the author of both her own and Klrby Dorklln's embittered lives. In this mood and with these Quixotic resolves, I announced to my uncle my purpose of a brief tour, half In youthful and vagarious sentimentallsm and half for Its direct bearing on my chosen vo cation, among the cathedrals of Eng land; and Insisted upon his accompany ing me. "Lord! Nonsense! Bah!" he in stantly retorted, reddening startlingly. "Tut, tut, tut! I'll cut you off, sir, first! After the ninny-ptnny-winnies! After the huesey-mussey-fussies!That's what's in your head, sir! Bah! Tut, tut, tut! Never!" As I watched him puff and stamp and make vicious lunges at the furni ture, I felt that I had already made un expected progress In unlocking the mystery of the '"tother one." Youth is ever recklessly brave and I ut once pitted my will against his. "I shall go to-morrow," I answered stolidly. "No you won't; no you won't! Not a penny, you young rebel! How'll you go without money? Bah!" he gurgled with cunning triumph. "Oh, I'll walk," I returned deter minedly. He looked at me excitedly for a mo ment and his scraggy features con torted hideously. He had never been opposed like this. At Ballarat he would have struck a man down for less. "We evidently do not understand one another, Mr. Dorklin," I added with out a quaver in my voice. If I had said "Kirby Dorklin," or "Uncle Klrby," he would have stormed on indefinitely. But to him, as he con fessed to me years later, a seemingly immeasurable distance flashed upon him through .the mere words "Mr. Dorklin," which startled him wofully, as he thought of the possible loss of all that on which his selfish though tender old heart was now so doggedly set. "Boy! Tut, tut, tut! You wouldn't throw away everything for a fool's er rand, would you? No, never! Bah!" he returned gloweringly and hoarsely, but with a pathetic trace of whimper ing in his voice. "Oh, no; but I wouldn't be anybody's cur, for any sort of prospects, no more than yourself, sir!" His eyes closed tightly at this. His head sank and wavered strangely back and forth. He seemed to shrink and double Into half his usual figure; and both his hands rested feebly and trem blingly upon his stick. He remained so long a time like this that I became alarmed, and was about' to step to his side; The move awakened him with a start. . "Gad, but there's mettle In him! He's like Ballarat gold twenty-three and a half karats first assay!" This bravely as if to some invisible audience; and then wheedllngly: "Who said I wouldn't go? Nobody! Bah! Of course we'll go! to some; to some of 'em, Robert!" "Thank you wholeheartedly," I re piled with real feeling; for I saw how the old man's heart had been torn in the brief and sudden storm. ' In an instant more his irrasclbillty had reasserted itself. "Damnation!" he shouted, jumping up and down and banging the floor with his stick in a, petty frenzy. "Not all of 'em, mind you! Bah! If It's any thing like all of 'em, I'll cut for Bal larat!" "We'll havea glorious time.and you'll see England at its fairest again," I per sisted enthusiastically. "I hate cathedrals and all that's in 'em! Good time? Never! Bah!" he snorted savagely. "And I'll make you love cathedrals and all that's in them for the rest of your happy life!" I urged glowingly. "'Gad, you'll drive me mad sir!" he roared as he tore away from our little parlor overlooking Covent Garden, and rushed in a rage to his own room. "Egad, I'll drive you glad, sir!" I un sparingly shouted after him, as his door slammed upon my words, and my heart smote me for my unfeellngness, though still, as is the way with aged youth and youthful age, elated at my partial victory. - . Klrby Dorklin did not appear to sup per or during the evening. Snorting, fretting, fuming, he stumped about his room, lunging at invisible objects and whacking at tangible furniture, ever and again storming at the' bugaboo, "Nlnny-pinny-winnles" and the "hus-sey-mussey-fussles-'' of 'ills poor beleag ured brain. 'i: f 'v -. : r.-; - I knew he was having It out with '"Tother One. For now and then, af ter a lond resounding whack he would snort defiantly, "Not to- all .of 'em, I'll throttle him flrstwNotv,neai, to:: 'tother one neverj Damnatlonl Bah!"' ' - But I remember .as: I turned: lq jny own bed to sleep, -I -said io'.myself: . - ; "Klrby Dorklintfaa -cathedral- town you aro determined not to enter la the very one I will try to lead you Intoi and If I am not much mistaken, some where within Its mossy, tranquil cathe dral close, I will search for and And tht key which will unlock to the sunlight the sepulchred disquiet of your pitiful old wasted life!" He was ready for me and our journey in the morning, chipper and cheery as when he had nearly choked me with embraces, as I stood before him in the first Hush and exaltation of ordination. We first visited Oxford. Then we ran down to Canterbury and Rochester. Back through the south and southwest, we came to Winchester, "dear old Win chester" to him, for he was a Wyke hamlte, to Exeter and to Salisbury. I loved him better and respected blm moro as we progressed. I found him to have cometlme been a profound student, and to still be a keen critic of ecclesiastic architecture and art, and a wonderful storehouse of pro fane and religious history. The differ ent periods, their relations and con trasts and the false notes of "restorers" were all as an open book to htm. Clearly, masterfully, he traced the various examples In church architec ture from the time of the old Saxon builders, down past the early Norman workers and the transitional Norman, and along through the splendid devel opment of first and middle pointed, perpendicular and the modern Gothic, Interweaving the whoje with a world of legend and fact from the time of Lucius In the second century, to that of Victoria in this. One day at Winchester as I was mar veling at his knowledge, he Involuntar ily exclaimed: "Nonsense! Tut, tut, tut! I helped Dr. Jeune plan all the restorations for the cathedral of" He never finished that sentence as he had begun it. What he did say was only: "I mean a castle of air! Tut, tut! Nonsense! Bah!" Pressing him was useless. As we neared the West of England cluster of cathedrals, his irascibility, nervous ness and cunning returned In full force. Leaving Salisbury, we visited that. myaterie of tbe human hand, Tbe pride of Itrlstowe and the Wosterne land," St. Mary Redcliff church at Bristol, "the fairest, the goodliest, and the most famous parish church in England," with Its sad memories of Chatterton; and at the Bristol railway station I accidentally noticed that Kirby Dork lin had secured our bookings through Gloucester to Worcester, although he knew, from my Interminable praises of Gloucester cathedral, that I desired to visit and study It more than any other sacred edifice in England. I kept silent, resolved to meet cun ning with stratagem. It was night, we were both exceed ingly tired; I tucked up the old gentle man carefully in our traveling rugs, and he was soon sound asleep. I sent a message from the first tele graph station, ordering a carriage to be in readiness at Gloucester. Cjn ar rival there, I waited In my seat until the train was Just on the point of de parture; and then with, a lively scram ble and unfeeling halloas of "Worces ter!" I rushed my easy and drowsy vic tim out of his corner through the din and clamor of the station platform, and, finally, Into a tranquil apartment of the ancient "New Jnn" wjiere un conscious of the ruse whioh had been perpetrated upon him, he slept sweetly as a child until morn. "In a moment! In a moment!" shout ed Klrby Dorklin, In response to my gentle tapping at the door of his cham ber the next morning. "Ah!" he' con tinued gayly, "at old Worcester cathe dral we shall find the tomb of King John, the most ancient regal monument in England!" "But we will first see the tomb of the murdered Edward, here, at Glouces ter;" I answered back as cheerily. There was at first a loud snort with in the apartment. Then my uncle re torted fiercely: "Here In Gloucester?" "Certainly.- Gloucester. You booked from Bristol to Gloucester, didn't you? We are at the most charming of all ancient Inns of England the 'New Inn,' on Northgate street, you know; built during the abbacy of Thomas Sebroke, over 650 years ago, to house the pil grims to Edward's tomb." ' There was ominous silence In Klrby Dorklln's room. "Think of it!" I continued enthusias tically. "What an experience to pass a night in a hotel more than half a thou sand years old; to perhaps sleep in the very bed where pilgrim princes have slept; to" "Damnation! Bah!" roared Klrby Dorklin, as I heard thehuge Inner iron bolt of the door crash Into Its sooket. . "Come, now; make haste! Let's have an early breakfast I want you to point out to me all the interesting things about Dr. Jeune's restorations!" There was no answer from Klrby Dorklln's room. "If you won't ' come," I continued proddlngly, "I'll hunt up "'Tother One" and get her to act as my guide!" : There was now a commingled uproar of snortings, stormliigs, exasperated exclamations and crashing furniture In Kirby Dorklln's room. v I waited a long time for the resump tion of tranquillity, which evidently fiually resulted more from exhaustion than the calming of Klrby Dorklln's spirit; and then, after various efforts to rescue the self-made prisoner from him self, with hearty assurances that his breakfast would be served at hjs door and with as cheering parting words as I could muster, I descended Into the vine-embowered court of the ancient inn. Never elsewhere can be seen such a radiant jumble of odd - corners, little arches, rose-covered, galleries, protru ding upper stories, peep-holes of tlny paned windows, fantastic dormers and gables, low and shadowy offices, strange Vostries," shining . tap-rooms and wealth of foliage and chubby cheeked bar-maids, to heighten; the mysteries, cheeV and charm of the typ ical old English inn, as was here.". The gray cathedral town, far from the ways of travel, rich lit history, legends and the quaint old architecture of the. long ago, and still simple and peaceful in its provincial coloring and ways; at last won me from the oosy breakfast room, out upon old Northgate street,' on past .the ancient city "Cross," along dim Westgate street, through the nar row passage or ."slype" of College' Court and into the shadowy .and sunshine-dappled cathedral close. - ' ' It was a glorious morning and I was glad I was alone. .-I endeavored to an' alyze my Strang eense- of elation and my- stranger indlfferenoe "to Kirby Dorklln's savagery. .and- discomfiture. But I found that my tinge of regret was as ' fleeting as the gentle breese whispering among the limes of St Mary's square and the dreamy, restful close. As I wandered about the exterior of the massive pile another curious feel ing possessed ma I could not see where, when nor how, but an impres sion, a presentiment, or a conviction, seised me that right there, near me, something was to be discovered, re vealed, or was to occur, which would happily effect my eccentric uncle's strangely ordered life as well as my own. , This was so strong upon me that I looked up startled Into the windows of the fine old fourteenth century houses which huddled upon, the close and the square, half expecting thu embarrass ment of their occupants' consciousness of my thought It was early, and only here and there had a tiny old window been thrown open to the llglit and fra grance of the morning. Not a soul was stirring within the close nor In the. sweet old thorough fares surrounding It I stepped for ward towards the open door of the south cathedral porch, smiling at the vagariousness of my own thoughts. With this smile still on my face, I turned again and looked above me at the quiet houses. Just over my head I saw a maiden's face, fair as the morning. Its owner was leaning from a window casement, bareheaded and radiant, as If for a draught of the sunlight and odor of the roses and flowers. Our eyes met. She, too, was smiling, as though she had In terpreted my thoughts as they had sent tbe glow of genial merriment into her cheeks and great hazel eyes. At almost the same Instant a woman stood beside her. She had come for ward with that Intangible trace of a smile in her own face which a smile In a sympathetic companion's always prompts, even ' before Its cause Is known. It was a kindly face, the face of an elderly woman who had known dolor, but had conquered pain; a face sweet and good and patient, molded Into divine If not physical beauty out of consideration for others, out of the still ing of some life cry in her own heart, out of the brave and tender burial of self. Some sort of swift and unexplalna ble Intelligence must have flashed be tween us; for I saw her face grow pale. She stepped back quickly, the maiden with her, and a half repressed excla mation escaped her lips. "The "Tother One!' " Involuntarily burst from my own. If her look, her sudden paleness and her quick disappearance were not enough to force this willing conviction upon me, her words they were so near me as I could hear her companion's anxious expressions of soothing and alarm, dispelled all doubt. "It's nothing, nothing, Grace;" she said, "for a moment he was so like him It startled me!" "And you lost your precious keep sake, the little, prayer-book that he gave you, at vespers last evening, poor dear! That made it worse, didn't It, auntie?" I could hear the maiden com fortingly reply. "Was was he very like the the young,. man in the street, auntie?" "Very, very like, Grace. Oh, very, very like!" "Poor, poor auntie! Let's run right over and take another good look for the prayer-book before the visitors be gin coming to the cathedral." This Is all that I saw and overheard, for I passed Into the cathedral at once; but there was a tone in the elder wo man's words which I longed to have reach the ears of the' savage prisoner from Ballarat, and a thrill In the mai den's Inquiry which stirred another member of the Dorklin family as no ca thedral incident had ever affected him before. A moment later the woman and mai den had croSBSd St. Mary's square and the oloee and entered the cathedral, passing at once to the choir.From with in the west window angle, where I re mained unobserved,' I now and then saw their forms flitting between the ohoir screen and the altar. They were still bareheaded, and they moved about the place as though hav ing known its mellowed lights through, years of loving familiarity. Their search had evidently been futile, for tbey finally slowly retraced their stepq, with baitings and frequent quests through" transepts and nave. Just as they disappeared the elder woman turned at the porch door, shaded her eyes and cast a sweeping, longing glance around the sanctuary; as though the wraith of Klrby Dorklin, conjured By my accidental presence beneath her window; might be fluttering somewhere among the Inner shadows, "itetver mind, auntie. Come along;" said . the maiden cheerily.. "Here's papa now. He'll keep a sharp look out for the prayer-book." "Yes, yes, dears;" heartily answered a portly, merry-faced man, who at that moment entered the cathedral. - A comfortable looking man he was, with pompous little ways; ways that In any other pktoe would have puzzled one whether to set him down for a bishop or clergyman. Huge keys jingled mu sically in his hand, and a bright air of vigor and bustling came with him. He trundled bravely to a little table beside the choir-screen, tossed the keys upon it, clapped his chubby hands together smartly, looked approvingly from arch vaulting to nave tiling and from tran sept to transept, as if to say: "Ah, everything !s here, Just as I left it - Monuments, effigies, brasses and all! We are now ready for the busi ness and recitals of the day!" Then I knew that he was the verger; that the sweet young face at the win dow was the face of the verger's daugh terter; that the "'Tother One" I had s , strangely discovered was a sister m -hap; and an unaccountable feelip. of fondness for the cheery old fellc , half prophetic and grateful, follov j,: him from my heart where his e?h , :,g foot steps led. ' '. Confused as my emotions were, the influence of the sacred and glorious structure was for a time paramount Standing just beneath its west win dow, beside the font, my eyes followed its splendid lines of. depth and height,' up and on, up and on past choir-screen and choir, past delicate flying buttress es across the huge transept-opening above, past the wondrous carvings of the chancel and chantry faces, past the high altar and the filmy Gothic rere dos, to that marvelous east window, greatest in Britain and feasted upon' as perfect a Christian temple as the in spired builders have ever wrought Rapt and exultant I started idly for ward, musing; that could be likened only to the arched vaulting of majestic forest trees wbei innumerable Interla cing branches and leaves se filter) kut never turn back, the sunlight, that from point of aroh to sward beneath there is a pulsing, palpable, transcen dent glow, when my foot touched some tiny dark object beside the font I stooped and picked It up. Days of dreams' and miracles! thought I. here was the anxiously sought prayer-book! I tremblingly scanned its yellow pages. Inside the first cover I saw the Inscription, K. D. to Dorothy Newton. At the back, bound In next the 'Table of Kindred and Affinity," were blank leaves for a diary. Only one page had been written upon. In red Ink, near the bottom, opposite the date, May 24, 1861, was the legend: Our engagement day D. N. and K. D. Just beneath this was the one word, Mlseria! This was all, but the entire miserable and pitiful tragedy was revealed and sank deeply Into my heart. I do not remomber just how It all came about, but that evening I found myself walking arm and arm within the tranquil cloisters with portly John Newton, verger of Gloucester cathe dral. Oddly, too, his daughter, Grace Newton, was beside him, looking, with the same qulszlcal, merry smile I had first seen glowing from her hacel eyes, now in her father's face and then Into mine, with a shade of anxiety, a flash of Interest, or a deeper glow of enthu siasm, occasionally heightening Its beauty Into greater wlnsomeness for me. Stranger still, I had become their pledged guest and arch conspirator, for we . were already conspirators three. We had got Dorothy Newton, the ver ger's sister, daughter of another ver ger Newton for the Newtons had been vergers here since the days of abbot Newton away back In the sixteenth century, and Grace and her aunt Dor othy were affectionately known as "the vergers' daughters" away to Chelten ham for a few days' visit, mercifully unconscious of my identity or the pres ence of the man from Ballarat, that very afternoon. The whole .story of my uncle's splen did architectural labors under Canon Jeuhe In the restorations, his betrothal to Dorothy, the lovers' foolish quarrel, the young and hot-headed architect's sudden disappearance with the suc ceeding oruel, unbroken silence, had been recounted; and now, every Imag inable plan for a possible reconciliation of the long suffering lovers was being discussed with the mutual enthusiasm of friends of many years. Nearly a week of double life passed by; idyllic days they were with Grace and her father at their rose embowered home; Idyllic days In my dreamful let terings In ancient cathedral and more ancient cathedral town; but they were days and nights of anxiety and unrest as I sought by every art to win over the unyielding spirit within the New Inn. My uncle had extended his prison bounds to the limits of the inn court. NOt for all the mines of Ballarat would he budge a foot farther, not he! "Stay as long as you like, hunt 'toth er ones till the end of time If you will, Robert Dorkiln," he would say with ex asperating resignation whenever I touched upon the subject of the city or the cathedral, "but don't you dare to leave this Inn till you're ready to take me as I come by night and In a closed carriage 'that can go! Bah!" And Klrby Dorklin would have fair ly contentedly sat about that pleasant old Inn until this day, Innocently dis turbing Its discipline of service with Mar ill considered and grotesque generosi ties, had I not again resorted to heroic measures. One afternoon, after making secret arrangements with Grace Newton re garding her aunt, upon her arrival from Cheltenham the same day, I re turned to the New Inn, and, finding Klrby Dorklin dozing In a corner of the-. churchyard, I awakened him with, "Dorothy Newton has passed away!" I fully expected him to storm and rave furiously. But he only looked at me' fixedly, feebly and pitifully for a time, as though he had suddenly lost the power of speech. . "The young architect who jilted her, -or whom she' jilted, has no more to fear from her gentle, suffering presence. HerVwas a saint's life, until it was stilled, I anvtold;" I carelessly added. Hot tears trickled from the old wo-man-hater qui vering face. "f Wish you would go with me to see and know and remember where she is at rest;" I urged quietly but with em phatic finality in, my tones. Poor old soul! So long as he could' marshal his offended pride, stubborn ness, and self -Inflicted- hurts against the living phantasm of his disordered mind, no .human power could touch his stern and . flinty blindness. Even the fancied irrevocability of death had never before set its awful and Impassive relentlessness against his own. A stopm-burst of remorse swept over him for a time; when he staggered to bis: feet, and, clutching my arm for support, said feebly but deter minedly: . . "We will go. We will go at once, Robert!" As we entered the cathedral the vesper-chanting of the Magnificat had just begun. The uplifting notes of "My sotil doth magnify the Lord," swept glori ously among the massive arches. With' bowed apd uncovered heads we softly crossed the nave into, the north tran sept, The verger, standing beside the, north door, gently opened it and in a. moment we were within the tranquil cloisters, moving slowly beneath the marvelous fan-shaped arches of the South Walk. The figures of. two women were ap proaching us from the opposite side of the garth, along the West Walk. The attention of one. was ounningly divert ed from us. We met them at the cor ner just where the wise abbots In ages gone stood to scan the tidy arched re cesses where the old monks studied and wrote.- . "My God!" shrieked Kirby Dorkiln, with trembling, upraised hands. "Rob ert! Robert! . It's Dorothy's ghost!" Ghost or human, in an instant more the taller figure of the two was locked In Klrby DorkUn'e arms. Somehow in the confusion and the overwhelming exoltement of it all, the other little woman clung, fast to meiand I to her; and I. was glad to have it so; for at that, moment I saw the face of John Newton, at. the open north cathe dral door, glowing through tears of joy upon the .verger' daughters and their companions; 'while from the cathedral came the mighty .organ notes with the pean of voices In praise: . "As it was In the beginning, is now, and ever shall be: World-without end." And all our hearts, If not our speech--less Hps, joined fervently In the exulv. ,tant and solemn ''Amenf 4 ' i m jt A 9CCK1'P' M KG I C EE O N- For Nerve, Brain and Blood. MAGIC IRON-TONE is an ldal tains with soda it is incomparable. It must be remembered that tha average summer drink is just so much syrup and water, having no medicinal properties, and which only serves to provoke instead of to assuage thirst. But MAGIC IRON-TONE not only quenches thirst, it gratifies the longing for "something that will go to the spot; it sparkles and bubbles along the palate and the throat ; it gratifies the parched stomach and immediately clears the films from the brain. It dispels the despondent, depressed feeling inseparable from weari ness and overwork; it lightens the load the system seems to be carrying, causes the eye to flash, the mind to spring into activity, and the nerves and muscles to jump from a flaccid to a& elastic condition. MAGIC IRON-TONE 25 CTS. A BOTTLE. One bottle makft tblrt7-flve Delicious Drinks when prepared as per. direction, and eerved with Ioe Water or Ice Cold Carbonic Water. SUPERIOR AS A BEVERAGE TO ROOT BEER And prepared with lees trouble. Ask roar Drngglet for It. MAGIC IRON-TONE is especially recommended for Brain-Fag or Mental Exhaustion, Nervousness, Physical Weakness, as in convaK escence, or from Excesses, Sour Stomach, Flatulence, Mal-assimilation Night Sweats, Insomnia, Gravel, etc, , i Nursing Mothers will find it a True Tonic, not beneficial to therm selves alone, but also to their offspring. Bottles for home use, 25c. IROH-MALT CHEMICAL CO., Props., New York. Rubber Soled Shoes are easy and insure a firm but elastic footing. During July we offer Men's and Women's High Shoes and Oxfords at special low prices. One thousand pairs of Boys', Misses' and Children's low-priced Tennis Shoes for vaca tion use. The New Haven Shoe Company, 842-846 Chapel Street, New Haven, Conn. rm ur. i tut a AeinsiAUSt cuniouui no opium oruUwri anndvnA. hut dwtrovB tho gDeoWo asthma Dolson in the blood, gives s night's sweet sleep ii 0 that yoa need not neglect your bueanees or git np 11 nisht ewdIiut for breath for fear of suffocation. I Vbr br all droarbtn. na. MONARCH Your Choice of Rims and Tires Call and See Them. V TONE summer drink. Served at foun EXTRACT tor HOME USE. "On rsceiDt of name and" Post-office address we mail and CUKCMf trial bottle FREE and prove to yon that: ASTHMAIENE will and does core afthmal TiPT not. MEDICM CO. lOeHEfTHR. T. BICYCLES. Highest Grade. Weighs 25 Pounds,