CHAPTER XIX.
Of thnt night's fntnl work tlic couutry
Kldc remains In complete Ignorance. Of
Mr. Dysart's sudden death it hears the
following morning with h feeling of
strong curiosity, but with none of regret.
The fimcrnl thnt takes place on the third
day Is small, certainly, yet. considering
all things the dead man's open hostility
to his neighbors, nnd the dearth of hos
pitality that characterised his sojourn
among them larger than might have
ben expected, nnd at nil events select.
Among others I-ord Hlversdale uttended
out of conipinient, It was supposed, to
Seaton, as he and the old man had never
so much as seen each other's features.
Hut It was found Impossible to conceal
the existence of Sedley from the two
girls, l'eytou had undertaken to give
them a rather careful nccount of what
had happened; .and In truth, when all
was told, he was almost as much at sea
about it as they were, as the stranger re
mained n stranger to him. Sedley had
determined to reveal the secret hold be
had had ou Mr. Dysart to Senton. think
ing the latter would make good his fath
er's promises.
It Is in the old man's private den that
he does this. Going up to the old-fashioned
bureau he, by a subtle touch, un
locks the secret spring.
The door falls back, the hudden shelves
and their contents lie all unconcealed.
Selling upon a fast yellowing parchment.
Sedley draws It out, and overcome by
fatigue and excitement, drops upon his
knees. Kagerly he opens and scans It,
and then holds it out to Dysart.
"Compare that," says he. In a high
tone of triumph, "with the will of your
grandfather, that left all to Gregory Dy
sart, cutting out the elder son. Compare
it, I say, and yon will see that this was
executed three years later than that oth
erthat other which is now in force, and
has been these twenty years."
Mechanically Dysart takes it. Xo word
escapes him. Speech, indeed, is impossi
ble to him, so busy is his mind trying to
take in all the miserable dishonor of the
story that as yet has but the bald out
lines laid before him.
"Xo one knew of it but me," says Sed
ley, feverishly, yet with an undercurrent
of delicious excitement in the recital.
"But me and Crunch. What she made
out of it no one can tell, as the old chap's
gone, but she's as knowing a file in my
opinion as you'd meet in a day's walk.
You can see our two signatures. Eh,
can't you read 'em? We witnessed it.
We alone knew, and he bought us over.
Well, 'twas worth a quid or two; 'tis a
tine old place."
Dysart makes no nnswer. He has sup
ported himself against a table near him,
and is gazing blankly, hopelessly, through
the window at the dull landscape outside.
He sees nothing, heeds nothing, save the
voice of the man who is speaking.
" 'Twns felony, mind you, besides the
fact of having to give up the money, nnd
property, nnd nil, so I knew I could turn
on the screw as tight as I liked. But,"
he laughs, "you see, I counted without
my host. I never dreamed the old man
would show tight like that. He took it
hardly, my return guess he believed me
dead, and resented the breath in me
and I shouldn't wonder If, after all these
years, he had got to believe the place,
money and everything, was legally his
own "
Still Dysart says nothing. He has in
deed withdrawn his dull eyes from the
scene without, and Is now staring with
unseeing eyes at the parchment that tells
him how the property was never his' fath
er's, but was left to his uncle, and how
his father suppressed the will, and kept
the property in spite of law and honor,
and all things that go to give a sweet
savor to man's life on earth. It had never
been his father's, all this huge property,
It never would be his. And If not, whose?
Vera's? He starts as if shot.
"Is that all?" he asks.
"Well, no. Xot quite. Your face says
very politely that you'd be glad to sec my
back, but business first, pleasure after
ward." He grins. "It is as good for us
to come to terms now as later."
"Terms?" repeats Dysart, gazing at
bim darkly.
"Ay, why not? D'ye think you'll get
out of It scot free?"
DyBart stares at him as if scarcely
comprehending.
"Want time to think It over like your
respected parent?" with a sneer. "Xot
for me, my lad. We'll settle now or nev
er. You see you're in my power, and
I'm not the one to "
"Sir, I am in no man's power," says
Dysart, calmly. "I trust I never shall
be. This will," striking It with his hand,
"through which my uncle and his daugh
ter hove been been fraudulently" he
says the word with difficulty "kept out
of their property for so many years, shall
be ut once restored to Its proper owner."
A yellow tint overspreads Sedley's face.
As If entirely overcome, he sinks upon a
chair,
"You'll surrender?" he says with n
gasp. "And your father's memory? How
will you like to hear him branded ns a
common swindler, whom death ulone sav
ed from the law's grip?"
Dysart blanches. Involuntarily he puts
out his hand and seizes the chair next
him and clings to it as If for support. Xo,
no, that he could not endure.
"I will give you .100 the day I see
you on board a steamer sailing for Aus
tralia," says Dysart with dry lips and a
heart that seems dead within him. "I
am now, comparatively speaking, a poor
man," his words coming from him slowly,
mechanically, In a dull, expressionless
wuy, "I can offer you no more."
"Double It," says Sedley, "and I'll
leave the country to-morrow,"
"I haven't It at this moment, but 1
date say I shall be able to manage It,"
says Dysart, In the same wornout, Indif
ferent manner. "In the meantime, while
1 try to get It, I shall require of you thit
you stay within .this house and hold
speech with no one sot Qruuch."
wt 4
"Well, I guess I'll chance It." says Sod
ley after a long glance at the young
man's ale, earnest face.
CHAPTER XX.
With the fatal will clasped In hi
hand, Dysart goes ftraight to the smnll
moralng room, where he knows he will
be sure to find Vera. Twilight is begin
ning to fall, nnd already the swift herald
of night Is proclaiming the approach of
bis king. She starts slightly ns he comes
iln.
"I am sorry to disturb you, says Dy
sart, with an effort at calmness, "but It
was so necessary that 1 should come,
that "
"I am glad you have come. I, too,
was anxious to see you," says Vera, u
touch of nervousness in her tone. "I
you must know it is Impossible that we
should stay here any longer. Our uncle,
who was our guardian, is gone and"
she has risen to her feet nnd Is looking
at him lu sore distress "I have wanted
to speak to you uhout it for a long time;
I thought, perhaps, you would help us
to tiud another home." He can tee that
she suffers terribly in having to throw
herself upon his good nature, to opeuly
demand bis assistance. "We must leave
this, nnd at once," says she, stnminerlng
a little, and with a slight miserable breuk
in her voice.
"You will not have to look for nnother
home," says he; "this is your own
house."
"Oh, no!" drawing back with a haughty
gesture; "I have told you it Is Impossi
ble. I shall certainly not stay here."
"As you will," quite as haughtily. "It
will be in your power for the future to re
side exactly where you please, but If the
fear of seeing me here is deciding you
against this place, pray be satisfied on
that point; I have no longer the smallest
claim to consider myself master here."
Warned by a chauge in his manner,
Vera looks at him.
"Something has happened?" she says,
abruptly.
"Yes; something I find It difficult to ex
plain to you."
Still be manages to tell her all and to
show her her grandfnthcr's will the will
which his father had suppressed all these
years.
"But this is horrible!" she says, faint
ly, when he had finished. "I won't have
It!" She throws out her hands as though
in renunciation. "Why should I deprive
you of your home? Give me enough to
live on elsewhere with Griselda, but "
"You are quick to fall into error," says
he, grimly. "I have begged you already
to try to grasp the situation. It Is I,
It appenrs, I who" he hesitates, and
after finding it impossible to speak of
his father, goes on "who have deprived
you of your home. You must sec that. I
beg," slowly, "that you will not permit
yourself any further foolish discussion
on this subject."
He turns away abruptly. There Is
something so solitary, so utterly alone in
his whole air, that without giving her
self time for thought she springs to her
feet and calls to him.
"Where are you going? To sit alone?
To brood over all this? Oil, do not.
Why," going swiftly to him and stnndlng
before him with downcast Hps nnd trem
bling fingers and quickened breath, "why
not stay here with me for a little while
and let us discuss all this together and
try to see a way out of it?"
"My way is plain before me; it wants
no discussion," says Dysart, resolutely,
refusing to look at her.
"You mean," tremulously, "that you
will not stay?" One white hand hanging
at her side closes upon a fold of her soft
black gown and crushes it convulsively.
"I mean," in an uncompromising tone,
"that I fully understand your mistaken
kindness the sacrifice of your Inclina
tions you would make and decline to
profit by it."
"You are disingenuous. What you
really mean Is," In a low tone, "that you
will not forgive."
"There is nothing to forgive, save my
presumption."
He opens the door deliberately and
closes it with a firm hand behind him.
Vera, left standing thus cavalierly In the
middle of the room, with the knowledge
full upon her that she has been slighted,
spurned, her kind Intentions ruthlessly
flung back upon her, lets the quick, pas
sionate blood rise upward, until it dyes
cheek and brow. She presses ber hand
upon her throbbing heart, and then all at
once It comes to her that she Is no long
er poor, forlorn, but rich, one of the rich
est commoners In England. And with
this comes, too, a sense of deeper deso
lation than she has as yet known. Drop
ping into a chair, she covers her face
with her hands and cries as if her heart
is broken.
CHAI'TEIt XXI.
Three months have come and gone.
Great changes have these three months
brought. They have unhoused Seaton
Dysart and given his Inheritance into the
bauds, the roost unwilling hands, of bis
cousin. Hands too small to wield so
large a scepter.
But Mr. I'eyton has nobly come to her
rescue. It is to htm that most of the
innovations owe their birth. The hand
some landau, the pony trap, the single
brougham, all have been bought by him.
He has perfectly reveled In the choosing
of them, and has perforce dragged the re
luctant Vera up and down to town, aid
ed manfully by Griselda, now his wife,
who has also been reveling, to view the
several carriages, and give her verdict
thereon.
To-day Is rich In storm and rain. The
heavens seem to have opened. Down
from their watery home come the heavy
drops, deluging the gaunt shrubberies,
nnd beatlui; into the sodden earth such
presumptuous anemones and daffodils as
have dared to show their faces. Ver
has Just ensconced herself cozlly before
the leaping fire, book In hand, having
resigned all hope of seeing visitors to
day, when the sound of carriage wheels
on the gravel outside the window, the
echo of n resounding knock, startle her
out of her contemplated repose.
AlUl HOW tllCI'O IS mile qnii- i""
i......i. it... Lull n snrliiulnir step up the
Mn!rcHM the rustle of silken skirts In
the ante-room beyond, a voice thnt makes
Vera slnrt eagerly to ber feet, and pres
ently Mrs. l'eytmi. looking supremely
hnppv. nnd. therefore, charming, lllngs
herself into her sister s nrnis.
"Oh. 1 urn too glad to be surprised,
says Vera, fondly.
"You're nn Improvident person, says
Mrs l'evton. beiimlng on her from out
the musses of furs thnt clothe her dainty
,.... tii.i.iMilul tor us. to belli
her with a dinner parly thnt Is to come
... II. 1 A...1 l.i.la.t
off to-night; so come we um. ...
so close to you. 1 felt 1 should see you
or die." .. ...
"It's selfish. I know, lint rm so ginn iu
have vim. Let me take off your furs.
What'a delicious coat! You hadn't that
when 1 was down with you. eh?"
"No. It's n new one. Tom gave It to
me. He's uhsurder than ever. But I
haven't braved the elements to talk
about bim. It Is about Seatou 1 want
to tell you." , ,
"Seatou? To come out such a ilny as
this to talk of Seatou! But why? It
must be something very serious, says
Vera, changing color perceptibly.
"Vera, I ennnot help regarding us-you
and mi as In part criminals. Poor, dear
fellow. It must have been a blow to lose
everything iu one fell swoop. And yet
what more could we have done than what
we did do? To the half of our kingdom
we offered bliu. but. us you know, he
would none of us!"
"1 know nil thnt. We nnve uiscusscu
it n thousand times."
"The face Is, Senton Is leaving Lng nnd
forever, and he bus n 'desire, n longing he
ennnot subdue, nnd, I'm sure, a most
nntural one, to see his old home before
he goes."
"Well?" says Vera, coldly.
"Well." lu exactly the snme tone, with
n little mockery thrown in, "that's the
whole of It. He wants to. get n lust look
at the old place before leaving It for
ever. At least, that is how he puts It.
Cnn he come? that Is the question. I
renlly think It would lie only decent If
you were to drop him a line nnd ask him.
It would lie the most graceful thing, at
all events."
An hour later Griselda drives back to
the Friars with the coveted note from
Vera to Seaton In her hand.
(To be continued.)
BREAD 1,800 YEARS OLD.
Loaves that .Were Heine Ilaked When
1'ompcll Wn Destroyed.
Sufferers from Indigestion nre ad
vised to cut stule bread; the staler the
better, they are told. There Is In tbo
museum at Xuples some bread which
ought to be stale enough for anybody.
It was baked one day lu August, 71)
A. D., lu one of the curious ovens still
to be seen at Pompeii.
More than eighteen centuries, there
fore, have elapsed since It was drawu
"all hot" and Indigestible from the
oven. So It may claim to be the old
est bread In the world. You may seo
It In a glass case on the upper floor of
the museum. There are several loaves
of It, one still bearing the Impress of
the baker's name.
Iu shape and size they resemble the
small cottage loaves of England, but
not In nppearnnce, for they arc as
black as charcoal, which, in fact, they
closely resemble. This was not their
original color, but they have become
carbonized, and If eaten would proba
bly remind one of charcoal biscuits.
When new they may have weighed
about a couple of pounds each, and
were most likely raised with leaven,
as Is most of the bread In oriental
countries at the present time.
The popular Idea that I'ompell was
destroyed by lava Is a fallacious one.
If a lara stream had descended upon
the city the broad and everything else
In the place would have been utterly
destroyed. Pompeii was really burled
under ashes and fine cinders, called by
the Italians lapllll. On that dreadful
day In August, when the great erup
tion of Vesuvius took place, showers
of fine ashes fell first upon the doomed
city, then showers of lapllll, then more
ashes and more lapllll, until Pompeii
was covered over to a depth In places
of fifteen and even twenty feet.
Other comestibles besides the bread
were preserved, and may now be seen
In the same room In the museum. There
are various kinds of grain, fruit, vege
tables and even pieces of meat. Most
Interesting Is a dish of walnuts, some
cracked ready for eating, others' whole.
Though carbonized, like nil the other
eatnbles, they have preserved their
characteristic wrinkles and lines.
There are flgs, too, and pears, the
former rather shriveled, as one would
expect after all these years, the latter
certainly no longer "Juicy." But per
haps tbo most Interesting relic; In the
room Is a honeycomb, every cell of
which can bo distinctly made out. It
Is so well preserved that It Is hard to
realize that the comb is no longer wax,
nor the honey, honey.
A piece of the- comb seems to have
been cut out, and one can Imagine
some young Pompollan having helped
himself to it nnd sitting down to cat
It, wheti ho hnd to Jump up and fly for
his life. One cannot help wondering
whnt became of the piece whether tho
young fellow took It with lilm nnd ato
It as he ran, or whether he left It on
his plate, Intending to return for It
wheu tho eruption was over.
Mmle It Herself,
"Did you dream on Amy's wedding
cake?"
"Mm yes; I thought It was safer to
put It under my pillow and dream on
It than to eat It and have the night
mare." PWbxdelpblaBulbjtln
Tho royal crown of Persia, which
dates back to remote ages, Is In tbo
form of a pot of flowers, Burmounterl
by an uncut ruby tho slzo of a hen's
egf.
The Joys of meeting pay the pangs
of absence; clso who could bear It.
IUjwc
Nits
TIBET, the one bind of mystery
yet roinnlnlng In I ho world, bus
at Inst been ln idled by the pho-
togmphlc ciiinerii. Every rout or ai-
rlea has been explored nnd that con
tlnent Is now grldlroned with railroads.
Tlu railroad uisii runs inrougii wi
whole length of Northern Asia. But In
I the heart of Asia Is one great mystorl-
' oils, semlsuviigo land, guarded by stu
pendous mountains, from which tbo
Innovating white uiiiii Is fiercely ex-
! eluded. That Is Tibet. It seems as if
nil the strangest ami must fantastic
customs on earth bud taken refuge In
this last retreat, for there olio woman
has tunny husbands, the ruler is a child
who dies before he comes of age. tho
Inhabitants wash themselves with but-
I ter and pray by machinery.
The attempt, of the Tibetan govern-
I incut to keep foreigners absolutely be
yond the borders of Tibet have not
been entirely successful, but they have
' Miceeeiled lu keeping them nwny from
the saered white city of Lhasa, lu the ,
heart of the laud. That Is the'
holy of holies, the mystery of myster- I
les. where the Grand Dalul Lama ,
dreams away his sacred, but brief ex- (
Istence. Explorers from time to time i
cross the wild mountain borders, but
they must advance amid great natural
dlllleultles and In fmv of a murderous I
population. The rulers at Lhasa hear
of their coming months before they can
reach the capital, ami can make ample
arrangements for murdering them.
When Henry Savage Lander crossed
the frontier In an attempt to reach
Lhasa, he was seized, tortured and
barely escaiioil with his life. Mr. Will
lain Woodvllle Rockhlll, the distin
guished diplomat, lately special Amer
ican envoy In China, has explored Kast-
' cm Tibet and written the most valua
ble modem account of the people and
their customs. He did not try to reach
Lhasa.
Tibet lies between India, Asiatic
ftiiwwln mill (Miltm fin the southern
side arc the Himalaya Mountains, the
I highest In the world, and the' whole of
I Tibet consists of mountainous table
land, rising 20,000 feet nnd more above
J the sea laud. The Inhabitants die of
, bilious fever when tnken to a normal
I level. On the northern nr Russian side
are great deserts. The least explored
part of China lies on the remaining side.
Tibet has an absolute religious govern
t meiit or theocracy. The bead of It Is
tne urnnii or ihiiiii i.iiinii in i.iuisii,
who Is supposed to be an Incarnation of
Buddha, but the real ruler Is n person,
curiously named "the Gynlpo," or torn-
I poral chief. He. too, Is a lama.
Years ago the lamas were not so anx
ious about excluding foreigners from
their land ns now, probably because
they believed the visitors would rever
ence their greatness. It Is one hundred
and forty-ono years since the Jesuit
priests were expelled from Tibet, but
even for many years nfter that It was
not dltllcult for a foreigner observing
the Buddhist religion to enter the coun
try. In 1811 nn Englishman named
Manning entered Lhasa disguised as a
lama, and In 18-10 the French priests,
Fathers Hue nnd Gabct, did the same
thing. But since then no white man
has seen the sacred city. Every ono
attempting to approach has been killed.
This Ucrcc cxcluslvcncss hns natural
ly stirred civilized curiosity to the ut
termost and much Information has been
gathered from Asiatic Buddhists con
cerning the Sacred City. This curiosity
hns now received nn unusual gratifica
tion In n remarkable series of photo
graphs of the Holy City and Its most
holy places. These were all obtained
by Asiatics. One of them was a Kal
milk chief named Ovcho Xovzounof, a
Russian subject, and the other a mem
ber of the Nepal Embnssy to China.
Nepal Is n native state between India
and Tibet. These photographs con
firm the most extraordinary state
ments that have been mnde concerning
the place. The I'otnlu or Grand Lama's
abode Is situated on n steep rock, about
1,500 feet high, nnd rises nlno tnll
stories nbnvo that Into tbo sky. The
lower stories nre occupied by the
Gyalpo and hundreds of Lnnins, while
the Grand Lama Is hidden away at the
top.
The Grand Lnmn, who Is regarded as
a rclncaruntlon of Buddha, Is usually
chosen nt tho age of live or six. Under
tho influenco of the Gyalpo he dies of
somo mysterious malady at the ago of
fifteen , or sixteen. His spirit then
passes Into another child. Fathers
Hue nnd Gabot are the only white men
who have left a description of the en
thronement of a now Grand Lnma.
When one dies the Tibetans watch for
a rainbow, nnd when this appears It Is
a sign of aid from Bumllia. The lamas
como out In procession and their oldest
member says to them: "Your Grand
La mil has reappeared In Tibet nt such
a dlstunco from your Lnmnsery. You
will And lilm In such n family."
The lamas go to the placo named and
there they llnd a child who always
proves to bo the true reincarnated
Grand Lnmn, Doubtless all this busi
ness Is arranged by tho crafty Gyn.po
and his assistants. Tho poor little
Grand Lama is conducted In triumph
I to the great pnlaco outside Lbnsa.
I There ho Is hidden In tho top of a nine-
3 tnjti5Sjj
story pnlnec mid never comes forth
again. A bell announce to the world
that the (iriiiul Lnmn Is Installed lu tlm
sacrisl chamber. This enthronement
Is accompanied by ceremonies so
strange and elaborate that It would re
quire volumes to describe tliem. Knell
one of the nine stories Is tho sceuo of
somo symbolical and mysterious per
formance. The Tibetans say that tho
wealth of the Grand I.utim lu Potnlii
Is ten times that of the rest of tbo
world put together. Outside Lhasa Is
the sacred grazing ground, where IMXI
brood mures feed, from whose milk a
fermented liquor Is prepared for tho
Grand Lama. A great temple of Lhnsn
contains the greatest Image In tho
world, culled the .In-Vo. representing
Buddha. It Is I '.Ml feet high, rises up
through four stories and Is covered
with Jewels.
About one-third of the population of
Tibet consists of Iannis, who dwoll In
lumnscrlcH, or Buddhist monasteries.
They possess practically all the wealth
of the country and rule It absolutely.
The biuinserles are situated in the most
t'antiistlc places, some on the tops of
mountains, others on the sides of them,
bunging over precipices so that one
can only reach them by ropes. The no
ble philosophy nf Buddhism Is almost
entirely lost among the degrading su
perstitious ami mummeries of these
liiiuns. Many of them do not know Its
eleuientary principles.
The bunas of n certain superior order
have the strange custom of manifest
ing their power to die and como back
to He. There Is another equally Inter
esting class of bunas known as Kkoo
slinks. These are men who have at
tained such a pitch of virtue that they
are fitted to attain Nirvana, the last
reward of the Buddhist religion. But,
Instead of entering Nlrvann. the Skoo
sboks conijcnt to be reincarnated nnd
live again for the good of their fellow
men. When an old Skooshok Is dying
lu the llcsh, a newly born child Is se
lected mid the sacred one trunsfere his
spirit to this child. Tho new Skooshok
Is then carried away to a Gotupa. or re
treat, where be dreams away his life
lu meditation. It Is considered prob
able that the Miiliatiuns. about whom
considerable has been heard lu Europu
nnd America, are really Skooshoks.
It Is well known that Buddhists are
lu the habit of praying with the aid of
n wheel, but the extent to which the
system Is curried In Tibet Is Impres
sive. The Buddhist. It should be re
membered, hns to pass through n long
series of Incarnations In various animal
forms until be has so purged himself
of sin that he Is lit to enter Into Nir
vana. The process may be accelerated
by prayer, and for convenience the
the prayer Is written and fastened on
a wheel, which the devotee turns. In
Tibet n devout nnd prosperoue mnn has
a collection of prayer wheels driven by
wind nml water power. In this way ho
may In a few years, make progress
which would otherwise occupy million
of years of relucuruatlous.
KIplliiK as a Outdo Boole.
Henry Sturges Ely of Blngbamton
has Just returned from a Jouruay
around the world. The trip hns Induc
ed In htm an exalted Idea of Rudyard
Kipling. "There Is no guldo book In the
far East like him," said Mr. Ely. "Tho
crows of the freighters nnd tramp
steamers anil all the dcep-Boa wander
ers know him by heart. Ho Is line
decker plus Imagination, yot an abso
lutely faithful reporter. Take his line.
'And the dawn comes up like thunder
outer China 'cross the bay. I not only
saw the dawn do that a hundred times
from the deck of a tramp steamer on
tho northeast route from Singapore,
but I bavo heard deck hands quote tbo
phrase. Tho effect of tho lino repro
duces tho phenomenon perfectly tbo
utter sudd less of It, ns If It leaped
nt you from ambush. It Is even truer
of the sunset. 'The night comes down
llko thunder,' bo might bavo said. Kip
Hug as a statesman tuny or may not
bo corrvct, but as a guldo book for tho
East be has no equal." New York
Tribune.
Now Wall Pnper.
A now wall covering Is being placed
upon the market. It Is an artificial
leather nnd Is the Invention of n
Frenchman. French leather papers
bavo not been sold In this country to
anything llko tbo extent they woro
twenty nnd oven ten years ago. Deco
rallno nnd the various high reliefs,
Anaglypta, Llncrusta, Llgiioinur, Cam
cold nnd Tyncastle, which lend them
selves so readily to decorative treat
ments, bavo very properly taken tbo
place of tho foreign leathers. The now
paper conslsta of pieces of refuse slsln
and bides cut exceedingly nmnll, mixed
In a vnt filled with an Intensely alka
line solution.
His Itlng.
Mr. Lothario Who was that girl
you Just spoke to?
Mr. Benvollo Why, was her faco fa
miliar to you?
Mr. Lothario No, but one of tho
rings she's wearing was. I must hnvo
been engaged to her onco. Catholic
Standard and Times,
BHIPUUILDINU OF Till! WOULD.
Atnrrli'ii Hunks Hreoiiil to lliiulimd,
liieliidltiu Colonics.
Hulled Hliites Consul .Mimilglnui at
Clieinnll. bus iniiile ti report In lb"
Stale Depiiiliiieut In regard to tho
world's shipbuilding Cor IIMIII.
Tim total number of vessels of uver
KM) reglHtered tons built during IIKH)
Is given In Geliuiin returns ns MID will
ing vessels and WW steamships, with a
total tonnage of '.VJIIH.WIH tons. Of Ibis
number. W sailing vessels ami 7b
steamships, with a tunimgo of 151 1.H.K)
tons, were built by tleriiiany.
The following table gives tlm relative
pnsltli f the shipbuilding countries
for 1WH. number or ships titnl regis
tered tons:
Hnglnlid (exclusive of col-
miles) "' ,'.'7'';""
America
l,'r,iiue U 101..I1H
i.aiy !l7 M':is-
Accordlng In these figures 10 per cent
of the whole fulls to Germany.
During the six months ended Dec.
.11, UKJ1. them were built III the United
States and olllelnlly numbered by tbo
bureau of navigation 717 rigged ves
sels of 151.07:1 gross tons, compared
with WW rigged vessels of ITIWID K'ross
tons for the corresponding six months
of 1IMMI. Canal boats and unrigged
barges nre not Included.
The principal decline. It),7rv.! tons, Is
on the Atlantic seaboard, and Is attrib
utable to work on several large ocean
steamers, which will be completed dur
ing the fuming six months. Included
In the six I tlm' figures are thirty
eight vessels, each over 1,000 tons nnd
aggregating 10M.NI- Ions. Of these
fourteen steel steamers, aggregating
fi'.'.MIO tons, were built on the great
lakes. Four are for the senbonrd, two
banana steamers. W'utsoii and Buck
mini, each of I.S'.'O tons: the llugoma,
J.IN'J tons, and the Mlnnetoukn. fi.VJO
tons. The Mlnnetonkii will be cut In
two to pass the canals.
On the seaboard fifteen wooden
schooners of L'l.MII tons were built,
says the Washington Star. Ilvo Kjccl
steamers for the coasting trade nnd one
steel ferryboat, aggregating '-'O.Wll
tons. Squnri'-rlggnl vessels are the
steel ship William I'. Frey. M..VM tons,
nml two barkeiitlnes on tho Pacific, ag
gregating i!.M10 tons.
About Gems.
The diamond, although not so rare
or precious as the ruby, holds tho first
place as favorite among precious
stones with almost every one. Tho
high estimation lu which It Is held Is
due to Its remarkable hardness, rarity,
and brilliancy, lu spite of Its beauty.
It merely consists of cnrlsin-a simple
elementary substance, and In Its great
est beauty. Although diamonds are
usually colorless nnd clear, like water,
occasionally -rrom some slight foreign
Inter-mixture -they nre white, gray,
yellow, green, brown, nml more rarely
nraiige. red. blue or black. The burli
ness of the gem-ns everybody knows
- renders It Incapable of being scratch
ed by any other substance, nml lu cut
ting and polishing diamonds diamond
dust Is employed The art of etinlng
diamonds, although long practiced In
I in 1 In and China, was not known In
Kuropo until after the middle of tbo
fifteenth century.
Poor Aotrfsses' Costumes.
In Germany there Is a society for the
relief of needy actresses. As ordinary
actresses have to supply their own cos
tumes It Is often most dltllcult for
those who nre poor to obtain good en
gagements, says Homo Notes. Accord
ingly certain practical philanthropists
started a society for their benefit.
The society Is now In Its second yenr,
and In the first report It Is stated that
"branches have been established In
Berlin, Cologne, Munich, Stuttgart,
Carlsruhc mill Mannheim, nnd It Is In
tended to have a branch lu every Ger
man city of Importance before the end
of another year. In every city the
business of tho society Is conducted by
a Joint committee of wealthy society
women and the most conspicuous net
rcss In the place. So far tho demand
for costumes has been much larger
than the supply, but this condition ha
only Impelled tho women workers to
greater activity."
I'n I III nml Works.
A piece of bright class-room repnrtea
comes from a Western college. Tho pro
fessor had been annoyed by the tnrdy
entrance of n student Into the lecture
room, nnd pointedly stopped talking
until the man took his scat.
After class the student went to the
desk and apologized.
"My watch was fifteen minutes out
of the way, sir. It's bothered me a good
deal lately, but after this I shall put no
more faith In It."
"It's not faith you want In It," ro
pllcd tho professor; "It's works."
British Hloutrlo Railway.
Tho estlmiitn of tho cost of con
structing the electric railway between
Brighton and London Is In round fig
ures 7,338,403. Tho stations will cost
330,000, und accommodation bridges
nnd viaducts 1,128,3111, while no loss
than 'J,408,71!0 is to bo spent on tun
nels. Pass It On,
"Have ynu had a kindness shovn7
Pass It on,
'Twas not given for you nlono
Pass it nn.
Let It travel down tho years,
Let It wipe another's tears.
Till In heaven tho deed appears,
Pbbs It on,"
Women tu Glasgow University.
Among tho 2,038 students at Glasgow
University last term there woro B50
women.
Tho man who Is willing to lend you
money to morrow always wants to bor
row to-day.