THE CHARITY GfilSL
By EFFIE A. ROWLANDS
CHAPTER XXIV.
The Glemiurwooil carriage was stand
ltif; whore Jack had ordered it to remain
vlien lie arrived. Jack had thrown him
self back in his comer aud had folded
liia arms across his breast ; Audrey sat
bolt upright, her two cold little hands
clinched tight together, her teeth set so
that the sobs that rose to her throat
chould not escape her lips.
Who shall attempt to describe the
:ate of those two hearts, both wounded
the very quick, both heavy with that
deep sorrow that comes when one has
Wen deceived where one loves best?
"Why did they take me to him? Why
wns I married to him? I would sooner
have died than have listened to what
those women said to-night, and know
that he has never, never loved me," said
Audrey to herself, passionately.
"And so my happiness is over," ran
Jack's troubled thoughts. "Well, it has
not lasted long. Fool fool that I have
been, to believe that any woman could
be the ungel I have pictured her to be,
and that she should love him him, above
all other men ! I fieb as though his
very life's blood will not give me satis
faction." They reached the gates of Craiglands
at last ; a few minutes' drive through the
well-kept avenue, and then the door. Jack
pot out, and then forcing himself by an
almost superhuman effort to appear nat
ural before the servants, turned to as
sist her. Audrey put her cold hand in
his as she stepped out of the brougham.
How little did either of them thiuk that
they would not clasp, or even touch,
hands again for many a weary day.
The fragrance and warmth of her bed
room seemed to choke Audrey. Hastily
flinging off her domino, she passed to the
window and pushed it open, and then
stood by it, the sound of her own heart
beating in her ears like a sledge hammer.
Would Jack come? She waited several
moments. If he had come to her then
6he would have done that which would
have put matters straight at once, for the
agony in her breast was urging her to
speak out to ask him why he had deceived
her, why he had married her? The hot
blood rushed to her cheeks again and
again, as she recalled tne remarks those
two women had made, and realized how
cruelly the world judged her already.
Five, ten, fifteen, twenty minutes went
by, and Audrey still stood waiting for
the sound of her husband's footsteps on
the stairs and the passage outside.
Her happiness was ended ; Jack no
longer loved her indeed, had never loved
her. She was his wife, that was true, and
it must be her lot to bear with the diffi
culties as with the joys that fell to her
as his wife.
' "Still," the child thought sorrowfully
to herself, "he has acted wrongly; he has
been cruel to Sheila, to himself, to me.
I am glad he did not come in just now,
yes, glad, for it shows that he is tired of
deceit and hpyocrisy, and and I cannot
bear to think that the nature I thought
bo honest should only prove false. What
was it that those women said? "The
worst day's work Jack Glendurwood did
when he married me.' People should be
careful how they speak out the truth."
Jler lips quivered, but her face flamed
-with proud color. "The worst day's
-work for Jack," she repeated slowly, "and
I am the one who has brought that to
him. I I who would lay down my life
for him. Why did I ever meet him? Why
did I ever leave home? Why did not
heaven let me die before all this sorrow
came upon him through me? Jack! My
darling! My darling!"
Her hot, tearless eyes stared into the
fire, as if to seek some solution of this
painful problem there. In her loving gen
erosity Audrey made all excuses for her
husband now. She no longer blamed; he
was still to her the dearest creature on
earth ; and yet so great was the agony at
thought of his deceit that, had he held out
his arms to her and called her tenderly by
name, she would have turned from him
and stood aloof.
CHAPTER XXV.
Jean Thwait was lying in a delicious
doze, half waking, half sleeping, on the
morning following the Dinglewood masked
ball, when a sharp tap at the door, fol
lowed by Audrey's rapid entrance, arous
ed her completely.
"What is it, darling? Something has
happened?" she cried, hurriedly.
"Jean, can you pack up a few things
and come with me at once?" Audrey
apoke faintly, her face was deathly white,
6he Bhook in every limb ; then before Jean
could answer, she went on swiftly, "My
mother is very ill. She has telegraphed
for me. Perhaps even now I may be too
late ; she may be dead. I have ordered
the carriage to be here in an hour, can
you be ready?"
"Yes," replied Jean, briefly. It needed
no words to tell her that more was the
thnn this teleeram from Ger
many. Audrey had never spoken like this
to her before, naa never looKea as sue
looked now.
Audrey made no Inquiries about Jack,
although she knew she must acquaint him
t.ar imirnev before she started. Jean
found plenty to do in the time allotted to
her, but she was wonuerruuy quick, ana
1 in hr hat and coat when she went
to the door to open it in answer to a
harp summons. It was Jack, also fully
attired in outdoor costume, with a rail
way rug over his arm.
rirwwi moraine. Miss Thwait," he said
hurriedly. "Please forgive me for this
unceremonious Intrusion, but I wanted
to speak to you before I leave."
"Are T00 not going with us?" she ask
ed in surprise.
It was Jack's turn to show astonish
input
"Where are you going?" he asked husk-
ilv.
t. in rhree words, explained what
bad happened, and then she knew some
thing wu Tery wrong, inaeea, u iub ex
pression on Jacks lace.
ir ("nnatjtnce !" she heard him mut
ter under hia breath; then he gave a
uick sixh. "I hP things ma not be
so bad. Miss Thwait. It is quite impos
sible for me to get to Cronstadt yet."
"Does Audrey know you are uot going
with us?"
"I have not seen her this morning," was
the answer, given with much evident
pain.
Jean clasped her hands suddenly. Then
her worst fears were realized, and some
thing more had, indeed, happened ; some
thing, too, very terrible, to work such a
change as this.
"Lord John," she said, involuntarily,
"you must please forgive me, but is your
business so important that you are com
pelled to attend to it rather than accom
pany your wife on such a journey as
this?"
"Miss Thwait," he said as well as he
could speak, "the business I am going on
touches that which is dearer to me than
life my honor ! I am sure that you at
least would not wish me to neglect any
thing with which that is concerned."
"I will answer for Audrey as for my
self," Jean said, hurriedly, "if your honor
is concerned, Lord John, no other reason
is needed ; but is there nothing I can do?"
"Give this letter to Audrey, Miss
Thwait." his voice quivered as he spoke
his wife's name. "It is a sacred trust,
one that I would not give to every one ;
but I know you are her friend, you will
comprehend and sympathize with what I
am going to do."
"Stay, Lord John ; you must hear me !"
Jean's gray eyes were full of tears. "I
love Audrey better than anything on
earth. I do not ask to know the reason,
but I see, alas! only too well, that some
thing has arisen between her and you. I
ask you now, and it is my love for her
that urges the question, will you not see
her yourself before you start on this
journey? will you not smooth away the
quarrel? She is in trouble will you not
take her to your arms?"
"It is impossible," he said quickly, but
with such determination in his voice as
made Jean shudder, and sent a thrill of
exquisite torture through Audrey's aching
heart, as she, at that moment, opened the
door in time to catch Jean's last words
and her husband's reply.
By and by, when they were speeding to
Dover, Jean and Willie Fullerton who.
when he found Jack did not join them,
insisted on going in a corner talking
earnestly, Audrey drew out her husband's
letter.
"Audrey In future, after the events
of last night, it will be impossible for us
to live together. This, I take it, will 1h
as much your wish as mine. To continue
to live as we have been doing would be
a mockery of marriage, a disgrace to our
race, a dishonor to our name. This, then.
is what I propose to do. There shall be
no divorce ; the pride and honor of the
Harborough family protest against such
a course. Atter all, you are very young,
a mere child ; you may have erred through
ignorance, but be that so or not, from
henceforth you can never be my wife in
aught but name. My wife must be above
suspicion pure, sweet, true not a gin
who, before scarcely six months of her
marriage have gone, encourages a man
for whom she openly expresses horror and
contempt.
"As for Beverley Rochfort, before many
hours are over unless he be a cur, which
I take him to be he will have answered
to me for his own part in this affair.
Audrey, I am trying to write kindly ; I
am trying to remember your youth and
the many disadvantages that have been
vours since the first, and you if you
have justice and honesty in your heart
you will recognize that I am not treating
you harshly, lour future is my care.
This morning I have made my will. I
leave you all the money I possess, to
gether with Minster, in RIankshire, the
property my father has just settled upon
me. Whether I live or die, I wish you
to make your home at Minster. I should
like to think Miss Thwait was with you.
Your money will be transmitted through
my lawyers. I intend to start at once
on a tour or tne worm, giving ine conai-
tion of my health as a reason for thus
relinquishing my parliamentary career. I
shall be absent, perhaps, two years, and
I leave it in your hands to judge whether
at the end of that time your conduct has
been such as to permit me to occupy the
same house as yourself, and nppear be
fore the world in my proper position as
your husband.
"JOHN GLENDURWOOD."
When Dover was reached a telegram
was brought to Jean.
"For Lady John Glendurwood," the
waiter said, inquiringly. "Is that right,
madame?"
"Quite right."
Jean hesitated only a moment, and tore
it open. She gave a little sound of sor
row as she read. It was from Marshall
poor, faithful Marshall and ran thus :
"Mrs. Fraser died this morning. Her
last wish was that you should not travel
here, but that she should be carried home
and buried in England. I, therefore, beg
your ladyship to obey this wish. I have
telegraphed for my poor mistress' lawyers.
"SUSAN MARSHALL."
Poor little Audrey! Robbed already of
the mother she had longed for so much,
loved so dearly, and possessed so short a
while !
CHAPTER XXVI.
There was nothing to do. Audrey fell
into a sickness that threatened serious
consequences. Jean sent at once for Lord
Glendurwood and Fullerton, and he came
in hot haste from a vain search for Bev
erley Rochfort. There was nothing to be
done but wait. Audrey had fallen into
a stupor. Her dear mother was buried
without the presence of her beloved child.
For three days and nights Jean sat
beside Audrey's bed, watching and dread
ing for the moment when that fair, fmil
face should grow even whiter, the faint,
low breathing even fainter. Three long,
weary days these were ; but if she found
them terrible, how much more m did the
one who had nothing to do put to pace to
and fro In the wet, leafless garden, bin
hungry eyes fixed always on the low,
quart window which hid his darling frcui
his view? The doctors forbade Jack Glen
durwood from entering bis wife's sick
room. He had crept in for a few mo
ments (he night he arrived no argument
or threat could keep him out; and as ho
had bent over the girl's silent form, call
ing to her in his agony to speak to him,
she had opened her eyes, and at sight of
him she had given one little scream, ami
then had relapsed into unconsciousness,
in which condition she had remained for
three days and uights. When reason re
turned Audrey was better, and Jena
sought out Jack and told the good news.
"And may I see her when?" he asked,
eagerly. "When may I see her? My darl
ing ! My darling !"
"The doctor will tell you. Perhaps to
night !"
As Jean sat by Audrey's bedside that
evening, resting back wearily in the chair,
now that all extreme anxiety was gone,
a small, sweet voice came from the pil
low, and she was alert at once.
"Jean," she said, after a little pause,
"is Ja is my husband here?"
"Yes, darling; he has been here nearly
all the time. Do you want to see him?"
"No, no, no! I will not see him, Jean.
If you love me, send him away! I shall
go mad if he is here! Promise! Prom
ise ! You must ; you shall !"
"It shall be as you wish, my dearest,"
Jean said, softly. "You can trust me?"
"Yes trust you always," she mur
mured, and in a few seconds she was
asleep.
Constance Fraser had been brought
over to England and laid beside her moth
er in an old-fashioned country church
yard. It had been a simple funeral
enough, though flowers had come from
far and near. High and low, rich and
poor, one and all, had a sorrowful thought
for the sweet, gentle woman, who had
merited a better sojourn on earth.
Sheila was left to herself nnd her not
very agreeable reflections. The masked
ball had cost her an enormous sum. Lady
Daleswater had never offered to take her
away with her ; she had absolutely no no
tion of what had happened to Jack and
Audrey. Beverley Rochfort never made
the least sign, and to crown all, Murray,
the whilom maid at Craiglands. and her
much too clever accomplice, took matters
into her own hands and bolted one night
with all the available jewelry and lace she
could lay her hands upon.
Enraged beyond all expression at the
loss of her property. Sheila at once put
the matter into the hands of the police,
and, in fact, was far more interested in
this affair than she was at the death of
her stepmother.
But a more disagreeable condition of
things than this awaited Sheila when
the report of Audrey's disappearance
spread to Mountberry. She was fairly
frightened ; ignorant of what might really
happen, she conjured up all sorts of evil
that would be visited upon her when the
whole truth was given to the world, as
it most probably would be. She eagerly
searched for Rochfort, to force him to
exonerate her from blame in the mischief
they had brought about, but like a coward
he was hiding from its consequences.
Then one day she had a frantic visit
from Alice Fairfax, who was in great and
terrible fear lest something would hap
pen to her. She had seen Willie Fuller
ton, who had boldly stated that it was
Lord John's intention to sift out the
whole gossip that had been spread about
his wife, and clear away much that he
could not understand.
"And if so, we shall be ruined, Sheila,"
sobbed Alice Fairfax; "but, anyhow, I
shall tell the truth, and say you asked
me to do "
"You dare to turn on me !" Sheila
flashed, furiously, white with anger, and
then she would have proceeded to fur
ther ebullitions of -wrath had not the
door of her room been opened at this
moment and Mr. Fullerton announced by
the waiter. A glance at the two flushed
faces would have satisfied Willie as to
their guilt, if he had not, at that mo
ment, reposing in his pocket, a complete
confession signed by Murray, whom Daw
son, the detective, had easily found this
had been done at Jean's suggestion and
who, discovering that her chance of a
brilliant career on Sheila's jewels was
briefly cut short, eased her conscience and
her spite by disclosing the whole plot.
Willie's interview with Sheila was
short and to the point ; and when he left
the room he carried with him her signa
ture and a few words at the bottom of
Murray's confession testifying that all
the maid had written was true.
(To be continued.)
Fully Qualified.
"So you're after the Job, eh?" said
the milkman who had advertised for a
holier.
"Yes, sir." replied the young man.
"Well, what exiorlence have you
had?"
"Why, I've pumped the orznn down
to our church fur years." Philadelphia
Press.
A burnt Mlntlcd.
Stranger (with suitcase) Can you
advise me. sir. as to the nearest route
to the leading hotel?
The Native Straight ahead three
blocks. Two dollars, please.
Stranger Eh!
Native Beg pardon. Force of habit.
My card. I'm Dr. Pellet. Cleveland
Plain Dealer.
No Kraft In It.
"See here," said the lieutenant of po
lice, "that countryman claims he told
you of his experience with a bunko
man. but you paid no attention to hini."
"Dafs all right," replied the cop. "lie
didn't Interest me none. He admitted
de bunko man had took de last cent be
had." Philadelphia Press.
i:uallr the Cane.
"Say, pa," said Tommy, looking up
from h!s paper, "what does 'obvious
reasons mean?"
"Usually, my son," replied pa, "It
means reasons that the writer U too
lazy or too Ignorant to explain." Phil
adelphia Press.
Coarenfent.
. "So you hire three pairs of glasses,
prof or?"
"Yes one pair to read with, another
for ni fir-slgbfedwvw, a:i.I a third pair
to lk for the other two with!" File
giade Blotter.
GIRLS AND BOYS AT THE
:U,7 'SHJ 'Mj
JULIET T. STRAUS.
The young animal of either sex, when arrived at the "smart" age, Is Indeed
a trial to beholders In general and to parents In particular.
Patiently, and In a chastened mood, we must live through the pert
speeches, the heavy tragedies, the sickening affectation, the mouthing, the
baby talk, the mincing walk, the wagging head, that belongs to the fool age.
By turns we take courage, remembering our own idiocy and how we came
through it, and again we never were quite so bad, and that our child is not
merely at the silly age, but that the fool goes all the way through and there
Is absolutely no remedy. In moments of desperation we wonder If a cudgel
or a perforated shingle would do any good, and then parental affection gushes
forth and we are appalled at the thought of so disgraceful a thing as corporal
chastisement for a child supposed to be "grown."
No, there is no help for It. We must let nature take Its course, thanking
our lucky stars if the happy young fool comes off without ruining his prospects
In life.
In gazing upon the youthful subjects of this sketch, I wonder which Is
more painful to the beholder who has come to years of discretion, to see
them walk or to hear them talk. In walking there seems to be a sort of
spiral wiggle In the gait that produces, at once, a strut and a wobble of the
head deemed particularly pleasing. In talking there Is a disposition not to
speak plainly, to bite off the words about half articulated and to assume a
peculiar quirk of the eyes or twist of the mouth, which, It Is to be hoped, Is
thoroughly enjoyable to the speaker as It Is so utterly exasperating to the
hearer as almost to provoke to assault and battery,
I once knew a rather belligerent old lady, who, In a luckless moment,
fell afoul of one of these young women who was living through the fool
period. After listening to her queer Jargon a while, the old lady Inquired:
"Is there anything the matter with your talking apparatus, or Is this here
mumblln' meant for style?"
After all Is said and done, however, we old folks must return to the
only remedy for our rasped nerves patience. We must bear with our dear
ones and love them through It all and stand ready to confront them when
the gayly-tinted balloon of fatuous fancy and self-esteem bursts and they
come down with a dull thud to life and Its actualities. Juliet V. Strauss, In
the Chicago Journal.
HER LIFE'S SUNSET.
ItoTV the Anstel of the Red Cross la
Spending Her Declining; Year.
Thirty years ago and even later, the
name and the fame of Clara Barton
were spread through two continents.
She ranks to-day with the greatest
heroines the world has ever knowa
and history a half century from now
will glow with accounts of her noble
work. Yet she lives just out of Wash
ington In a retirement that Is almost
isolation, surrounded by only a few
faithful friends, who have spent their
lives In her service, and nearly forgot
ten by the heedless generation that fol
lows her. Now and then some old aud
stanch friend of Miss Barton makes
the long trip out from town to the big
yellow house at Glen Echo, occasional
sightseers and curious strangers Invade
her solitude, and from time to time
she makes a short trip Into the city
herself; but for the most part she
spends long, sunny days In the silent
house overlooking the Potomac.
This house, a roomy one built for a
hospital for sufferers in the Johnstown
flood and afterward given to Miss Bar
ton and moved by her to Glen Echo, Is
a rather dreary place In winter, al
though It Is delightfully cool In sum
mer. A trip down the wide hallway
running through the center of this
house, on a bleak winter's day, Is
enough to chill the marrow In one's
bones, but the long walk ends in a
warm', sleepy sitting room which Is In
viting In Its comfort Old-fashioned
cushioned rocking chairs, u lounge with
brlght-colered Afghans upon It, and a
great waterfall of Wandering Jew In
the window all breathe of the quaint
home-likeness of a quarter century ago.
Miss Barton fits into It like a picture
Into Its frame, and a chat with her
there Is the Bort of experience that
finds one coming away 6mlllng a little.
The winter months, when the Vir
ginia hills opposite her study windows
are forlornly bare. Miss Barton spends
writing and reading. In spite of her
80-odd years, she Is still mentally keen
and interested in all the events of the
day, and she keeps up with current
affairs to an amazing degree. Now and
then articles from her pen are sought
by various publications, and It Is hint
ed, too, that she Is busily preparing a
volume of recollections, which shall
perhaps be somewhat In the nature of
an autobiography. Miss Barton has
for years been urged to write such a
book, and since her connection with all
public affairs was severed, some two
or three years ego. she has been giving
more and more time and attention to
ner personal writings.
Her habits while thus at work are
curiously erratic. Ebe Is op earl la
MISS CLARA B A ETON.
SMART "FOOL" AGE.
It Is to bo presumed that there Is n tlm In
every life when the being that sustains a partic
ular entity Is more or less a fool. It Is not
presumable that one can always remain sensi
ble. The greatest genius has his weak spots,
and wo are to be congratulated If wo ever get
past the fool mile post and reach the limits of
rationality and mere common sense. It has
been said that there Is no fool like nn old fool,
and I admit that an old fool In the bosom of
one's family Is trying, but I do not believe that
he Is more so than the perverse, high-headed,
young fool who has Just waked up to the seem
ingly Incontrovertible fact that he owns the
earth and the fullness thereof and that every
body Is sitting back awe-stricken at his clever
ness. In using the masculine pronoun, I do not
mean to point out merely the boy fool, for I
sometimes think his female contemporary can
give herself away more completely than he can.
the morning, and often by daybreak
the scratch of her pen may be heard
In her study. During the day she often
takes little naps, resuming her writing
with fresh vim, and frequently she will
lie down from 8 or 9 o'clock In the
evening until 10 or 11, rising then to
go vigorously to work and write busily
until 1 or 2 o'clock in the morning. One
of her most faithful companions Btates
that frequently, when she has had some
difficult piece of writing to be done,
she would go to the kitchen and work
energetically with her hands, at can
uing or Ironing or some domestic task
all the while revolving her subject
nnd Its arrangement In her thoughts.
Then suddenly she would go to her
room, take up her pen and write her
article with scarcely the change of a
word. She Insisted that her thoughts
came much more clearly and smoothly
when her hands were occupied.
During the summer mouths Miss
Barton generally goes to her old home,
the little town of Oxford, Mass,, where
she was born and where her remaining
relatives still live. She Is dearly loved
and reverenced there, and Is usually
the patron saint of the young men and
maids of the graduating classes. She
has an unfailing Interest In young peo
ple, and enters Into their ambitions and
troubles with real sympathy. Another
of her great pleasures Is the annual re
union of the G. A. R., where she is
always a beloved and honored figure.
The old "boys" have never forgotten
the heroism and courage with which
she went among them, helping to save
their lives, and here at least there goes
out to her a gratitude which never for
gets nor takes for granted the great
work she has accomplished.
Cloth to Stop Ballets.
"A new protective principle for sol
diers has been discovered by an Italian,
Sig. BenedettI," says the Technical
World Magazine. "Experimentation
shows that great resistance Is offered
by substances that have air within
their cells. The principle may be Illus
trated In this manner : Fire under pre
cisely the same conditions In both cases,
a bullet at each of two calendars, one
of which consists of thick sheets of pa
per, the other of thinner sheets. The
ball will penetrate farther Into the cal
endar of heavier material. This dif
ference Is due to the elasticity of the
layer of air that Is Imprisoned between
the successive sheets. The thinner the
cushion of air, the more elastic It Is,
and the more sharply It reacts.
"BenedettI, adopting this principle,
has constructed a cuirass of a kind of
felt It Is not rough, however, like or
dinary felt The special features of
this new device for stopping bullets the
inventor has not as yet disclosed In
any detail."
Doi't Fit the Caaa.
"Ton shouldn't have hit that man
who called you a liar."
"Shouldn't, heyr
"No, yon should have demanded the
proof, and If be could not produce It
he would have been branded as a falsi
fier." "That's all right ethically, but I knew
he had the proof." Philadelphia
Ledger.
Extremal?.
"The subject of the club discussion
to-day was an extremely difficult one
to bring op."
"What was !tr
"Children." Baltimore Americas,
BITTY YEARS A PUBLIC SINGER
Nil iHfeM
CHARLES SANTLEY.
Fifty years a public singer Is the
record of Charles Santley, the most
celebrated of English barytones whose
Jubilee recently was marked by con
gratulations and presents from musi
cians and music lovers all over the
world.
Santley Is In his 74th year, and still
retains a remarkably vigorous voice.
In an Interview with a London corre
spondent he said that he had no
thought of retiring. Whatever time Is
uot spent in rehearsal and performance
In concerts Is devoted to the teaching
of his art to students In London. He
Is a complete master of his art, and
he has succeeded perhaps more than
any other Briton In spreading a love
for It In his country. Though his ac
tual debut took place In his birthplace,
Liverpool, In 1853, he dot's not count
his consecutive career to begin before
his London debut, In 1ST7, when he
sang off the same score with the great
Julius Stockhauser. Ills inspiring
barytone at once fascinated the public,
and In both hemispheres he has been
acclaimed as the equal, If not the su
perior, In some respects to Edouard de
Reszke.
At Pavla, Italy, In the beginning of
1857, he stepped the boards for the first
time as the doctor in "La Travlata."
lie was an Impecunious youth then,
and In Milan later he felt the pinch of
poverty keenly till he met the famous
Impresario, Henry F. Chorley, who
sent him back to London, when he en
tered the concert tours under the late
Manuel Garcia, who recognized his
wonderful talent. Since then he gain
ed world-wide fame In oratorio and
opera.
A financial genius Is a man who can
have a family and money at the same
time. New York Tress.
Either a man Is fool enough to specu
late In the stock market or to try to
have a vegetable garden. New York
Press.
Most people's Idea of a good cook Is
one that can fix up a thing that you eat
without guessing what it Is. New
York Press.
A woman can never understand how
a man who Is careless about parting
his hair can be successful In business.
New York Press.
It's a funny thing how so many
widows think they ought to wear yel
low hair for mourning the second year.
New York Press.
When a girl protends she doesn't like
candy It's a sign she Is trying to grow
thin. New York Tress.
Vlevra of Maori Member,
Twenty years ago when a bill fot
the enfranchisement of women was In
troduced into the legislature of New
Zealaud one of the Maori members
made a speech which for directness
and force, from his standpoint, could
not be surpassed, and It Is a littld
strange thnt the radical opponents of
woman suffrage, especially In England,
where the Bubject Is an exciting one,
have not unearthed It. The pithy and
somewhat humorously suggestive re
marks of the Maori member were as
follows :
"It will be a source of trouble. I
think we hnve only to look back to the
trouble that came upon Adam through
his wife giving him an apple. We
sliould bear In mind the evil that be
fell Samson when Ws locks were shorn
by Delilah ; also the story of Naboth's
vineyard, where a woman incited a
man to murder another In order to ob
tain possession. If ladles were allow
ed seats It would distract the attention
of some honorable members. Although
I am getting on In years, I must con
fess I should be affected by a weakness
of that sort. If only plain women were
allowed In this bouse the source of
danger would be removed, but If any
beautiful ladles were sent they would
lead astray the tender hearts of some
honorable gentlemen, particularly the
elder members. In conclusion. If at
tractive ladles are allowed to come Into
this house I aru quite certain my own
wife will never consent to my return
ing' here."
Win Mam.
, Wise He doesn't feel that he's ellgl
ble for membership In your Browning
society.
Wood by You mean because be does
not know anything about poetry?
Wise Not at all. I mean because
' he's sensible enough to admit It FhU
'adelphla Press.
1 IrWtM