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.