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HomeMy WebLinkAboutThe Brussels Post, 1896-2-28, Page 2HE VICAR'S GPVRNESS "LTot the slightest harm," °says Miss Peyton; with conviction. Woman-l.ko, • she is burning with curiosity Nut for an Instant does she doubt that one of her: greenest wlsites Is aloof to be fulfilled; B'Ite Hastings, who has email tbouah not insignificant iucomo of Itis own, independent of the Church, is about to marry her dearest Georgie. "Iter dearest Georgie," raising 11ar- eelf'a little from ber recumbent post- time oshtion, leans her arm upon Clerisse'sknee, and looks up into her face; there is im- portance largely mingled evith ,de- light in her fair features. "Well, thou," she says, slowly, as though loath Lo part all at once with her treasured news, "last night—he told ing—that he—was in love!' "Did he r—with suppressed. excite- ment. "And—and you—what did you say 1" says BISsa 'I didn't say mlJ much," says might Broughton, regretfully, have said a great deal more, something kinder, more encouraging, You know; but I was so surprised and so--" "Pleased ?"—tenderly, with "Pleased 1 I should think so," so mush empressement tbat even Clarissa is taken aback, "I was never so delignted is my life, only, as I said before, a little confused, and couldn't think of anything pretty ,to say.' "I think it was far nicer your say- ing nothing," said Clarissa, very gently. She is a little disappointed in Georgic; a woman may be pled to marry a man, but she shouldn't say so, at least not exactly in such a cold-blooded fashion. "I can quite understand"—with suf- ficient hesitation to convince herself, at least, that she docs nut understand— how you felt nervous in spite of your happiness." "Oh, you always know everything," says Georgie, so lovingly that Clarissa hates herself for thinking even one un- pleasant thought ot her. "Well, he went on to say he never loved before. Now, boneitly ylarissa,"—ill a thor- oughly matter-of-fact tone,—"do you tbink that could be true?" "Why shouldn't it 1:e true?" says Clarissa, wishing withall her heart the otherwould bo a little more sent] mental over her own first love -affair, as she believes it to be. "Well, yes, of course; he is rather young, and beauty goes a long way with some men: Again Clarissa stares. She hadn't thought Georgie vain of her own charms. How difficult it is to know any one, even ones ehicfest friends! "Then bo went cn to say, he could never feel real happiness again until he knew be was loved in return." "Well?" —breathlessly,— "and then "I said "—wii:h the gayest little. laugh ,imaginable,—" i thought he was loved ut return." "You thought, Georgie? "ithat a strange answer i 1 do think you are a little bit coquette! I am so glad, though. 1)q you know, 1 guessed all along how it would be ?" "So dud I. I know very well how it would encl. I felt he would fall a vic- tim sooner or later. 11 is rather soon, isn't it ? But of course it is only na- tural 1 snould know about it?" "Yes, only natural." Clarissa can think of nothing else to say. Nut like this bad she felt when—. To talk of him as a victim! "I hope everything will be settled soon," goes on Bliss Broughton, gayly, 'Happy is the wooing that isn't long adoing.tend 1 should like the mar- riage to be soon; wouldn't you; I think next Lima I see bim 1 shall ask hum about it." Oh, Georgie, don't I Indeed I would not, if I were you," exclaims Clarissa, in an agony. Good. gracious! Is she lost all sense of shame? "lie won't like it. It is surely the man's part to speak about that," "Oh, very well,"—amicably. "But there couldn't be any harm in my speaking about it" "Just as much as in any other wo- man's." "Not so much as if it was Cissy?" "Twice as much. What has she got to do with it 1" "Well, a great deal, I take i1,"— laughing again. As a friend she may feel some in- terest in him. I suppose. But she is not going to marry him." Well, I think she is. You don't think she will refuse him, do you?"— anxiously. "Cissy Redmond?" "Cissy Redmond." "130 you mean to tell me," sass Clar- issa, growing very red, "that it 10 Cissy you have been talking about all this time, and not—Yourself ?" Myself 1 What on ;earth are you thinking of?" I1 is now George's turn to blush crimson, and she does it very generously. Then she breaks into wild mirth, and, laying her head on (.'larissa's knees, laughs 1111 she nearly cries. "Oh, when I think of alt I have said!" she tone—"howo on, keenest ed enjoyment and how ca.valierIy I treated his proposal, and— what was it I said about asking' him to name the wedding -day? Oh, Clarissa, what a dear you are!—and wbat a goose 1" "Well, certainly, I never was so tak- en in in my life," confesses Miss Pey- ton and then she laughs too, and pres- ently is as deeply interested in Cissy's lover as if ha had indeed been Georgie's. CHAPTER XXI, "Sin and shame are ever tied. together With Gordian knots, of such a strong thread spun, They cannot without violence be un- done." • Webster. "Sharper than the stings of death]" Reynolds. Upon Pullingham a great cloud bas descended, It hasathered in one night,—swiftly, secretly,—and bas fal- len without warning, crushing many hearts beneath it. Shame, and sin, and sorrow, and that most terrible of all things—unoortainty—have come to- gether to form it while doubt and sus picion lie in its {:rain. Ruth Annersley is missing I She bas disappeared,—utterly 1 entirely i-- leav- ing no trace behind her, no'svord, no line to relieve tho heart of the old man, her father, and which is slowly beginning to break, es the terrible truth dawns upon luta. Only yester eye she had poured out Iris tea aas usual, had bidden him good- night, --lovingly, indeed, but not, as 00e would bid an eternal farewell. After- ward, lie • remembered, she had not given him—on that night of all others —the cnstoreery kiss, but bad passed awayfrom him coldly, callously—or i was t that she feared? :Tired out wltb 1115 [lay% work the m111er had gone to bod, 'elle girl, as wasler 11(1(1 set in, had gone for a ller habit ever since the longer evenings wall[ into the dewy woods, wbero ire are told "every bough thatmoves over our bead leas alt 0reoular wisdom." Alas] that [boy should have taught her so little, She had grossed the road before the very eyes of her 1ousoltold, had entered the green forest ot early breaking leaves, bad faded from sight, and never come bank, The old man, Who rises and goes to bed with the sun (most coastaut 1042- nanion of simply naiads), lied slept peace= fully ail uigbt, never ctoubttng that the child of his beart lay dreaming cake and happy dreams in her own room: Not until the morniu was far advane- ed did be discover that Ruth's bed had known no occupant the night before, Afterward, too, he remembered bow little this thought bad jarred upon him just at first. It was strange, vex- ing ; she should have told him where she meant to spend her evening; but, be- yond tbat, it caused him no pang, no su8lrleloa. Her aunt lived in a neighboring town,—probably she had gone there, It was only few* miles away,—a walk Ruth had taken many a day, and thought nothing of it; but it was im- prudent starting on such a journey so late in the evening ; and, besides, there was always the old mare to drive her there and back. Messengers were dispatched to her aunt's house, but they returned bring- ing n0 tidings. She was not there—bad not been for over a fortnight. Day wanes; twilight is descending,— Melting heaven with earth, Leaving on craggy hills and running A softness like the atmosphere of dreams." All day the miller bas sat apart, his snow-white head upon his arms, in the room her hands had beautified and made so dear. With passionate indignation he has thrust from him all the attempts at sympathy, all the hurtful, though well -meant, offers of assistance held out to him by kindly neighbors. Silent, and hale -maddened by his thoughts, he sits dogged and silent, refusing food, and waiting only for her who never comes. But when, at length, the gloaming comes, and day is over, without bring- ing to him the frail form of her he so desires, he rises, and, pushing back hie chair, goes up to Hytlre, and into the presence of Lord Sartoris. "You will find me my girl," ho says, and then he tells Win his story. Sartoris listens, and, as ho does so, sickens with doubt that is hardly a doubt, and fear that is nearly a certain- ty. Is this the end he has so dreaded? Is this the creeping horror that has of late tortured him ? Alas for the un- blemished honor of the old name that for centuries has held itself sans pear et sans reproche. Now can he dare offer consolation to old Annersley' ? He covers his face with his hands, and bends forward over the table. There is something in his atti- tude that denotes despair, and renders more keen the agony in Annersley'3 bosom, "Why do you do that ?" he cries fierce - 1y. "What is there to groan about? Nothing, I tell you ! The child bas gond too far,-11as lost iter way. She didn't understand. She cannot find her road home.—No. more—no more 1" His excitement and grief aro pitiful to see. He wrings his hands; his whole bearing andexpression are at variance with his hopeful words. She will come back .n an hour or two, may - hap," he says, miserably, "and then I shall feel that I have disturbed your lordship ; but I am in a hurry. you see; I want her, and I cannot wait," "What do you want me to do for you?" says Sartoris, very humbly. Ile feels that he can hardly lift his eyes in this man's presence. Find her 1 That is all I ask of you. Find her, dead or alive 1 You are a great man,—high in authority, with power, and servants at command, Find. me my child 1 Oh, man, help me, in some way. He cries this in an impassionate tone. He is totally overcome. His poor old white head fails helplessly upon his clasped arms. Sartoris, pale as death, and visibly affected, can make no reply. He trem- bles, and stands before the humble miller as one oppressed with guilt. Annersley mistakes his meaning, and, striding forward, lays his hand upon his arm. "You are silent," he says, in a ter- rible tone, made up of grief and an- guish more intense wordsttell. ou do nohik she is in the wrong, do you? You believe her inno- cent ? Speak 1—speak I" "I do," responds Sartoris, and only his own heart knows that he lies, Yet his tone is so smothered, so unlike his usual one, that he hardly recognizes it himself. If Mr. Branscombe were only here," says Annersley, in a stricken voice, alter a lengtliend pause, "he would help me. He has always been a kind friend to me and mine." Lord Sartoris draws a deep breath, tbat is almost a sob. "When does be return, my lord?" "On Saturday, He said so, at least. when leaving." A long time," murmurs the old. man, mournfully. "She will be home before that,—if she ever comes at all. His head sinks upon his breast. Then he rouses himself, and, glancing at Lord Sartoris, says entreatingly, "Won't you write to him, my lord? Do, I im- plore of you, and conjure him to re- turn. If any one can help me it will be Mr. Dorian I" "I shall write to him now—now—at once," says Sartoris, mechanically, feel- ing how hideous is the mockery of this promise, knowing what he knows, Even vet he clings to the hope that[ he has been mistaken, Thus he soothes the old man with vain premises, and so gets rid of him, that be may be left alone with his own thoughts, Shall he go to Dorian? This is the first engrossing idea. Yet it affords but little consolation. To see him, to hear him, to listen to a denial from bis lips; that is what it holds out to him, and it is alt insufficient. How shall he believe him, knowing the many things that have occurred? How treat his rery most eager denial as anything but a falsehood? For hours he paces to and fro pond- ering on what is the best course to pur- sue. He 1d not his father, that he can coerce him. By nature suspicious (though tender-hearted and indilgentin other ways), it comes easily to him to believe that even the man in whom he has trusted has been found wanting. "To doubt is worse than to hew, lost," says Maasinger; and surely he is right, Sartoris, ie. deep perplexity, acknow- ledges the truth of this line, and tells himself that in his old age he has been sorely tried. The whole world seems changed, Sunshine has given place to gloom ; and he himself stands alone,— "Stovnde and amazde at his own shade for dread, And fearing greater daungora then was Mede, Not until be is thoroughly exhaust - ad, both ill mind and body', does be de - cede on leaving for town by the mid- day traits next clay. lit the Mean Lime he will telegraph to Claridgo's, damn fttln1 rojssembrapce lingering with liar of Dor•lan's baying made mention of [bat hotel as beim all any Due's fame, (cold possibly paint it, ut the morrow brings its own 1.dings, 11 Ls almost noon, and Sartoris, sit- ting .ie bis library, writing some bas- eless letters, --preparatory to catching the up trail] to loa11,—l3 disturbed by a light knock at the door; 'Come in," be calls out, impatiently; and Simon Gale, opening the door, comes slowly lit, He is a very old man, and has been butler in the family for more years time himself eats count. His head is qui; white,' his form a little beait; there is, all this moment, .a touch of deep dis- tress upon bis facie that makes him look even older tban he is. "Are you busy, my lord?" asks he, in a somewhat nervous Lone, Yes; I ant very much ongaged, I can see n0 olio Gale. Say I ani starting for town immediately." !t isn't that my lord. It is some- thing 1 myself that, to say to you, If you could spare me a few minutes--." He comes a little nearer, and speaks even more earnestly. "It is about Ruth Annersley." Lord Sartoris, laying down his pen, looks at him intently. "Close the door, Simon." he says, hur- riedly, something inthe old servant's manner impressing him. 1 will bear you. Speak man: tvhat is it?" "A story I heard this morning, my lord, whioh I feel it fay duty Lo repeat to you. Not that I believe one word of it. You will remember that, my lord, —not one word," The grief in his tone belies the truth of his avowal. 1lis head Ls bent. His old withered hands clasp and unclasp each other nervously. "You are trembling," say's Lord Sar- toris Sit down. This news, what- ever it is, has unstrung you." "It lias," oriel Simon. with vehem- ence, I am trembling; I tun unstrung. How can 1 be otherwise 1511015 I hear such a slander put upon the boy I have watched from his cradle?" "You are speaking of—l" demands Sartoris, with an effort. "Mr. Dorian: He says this in a very low tone ; and tears, that always come so painfully and so slowly to the old, shine in his eyes, "His sad complexion wears 'grief's mourning livery'." He covets his face with his hands. Sartoris, rising irom his seat, goes over to the window, and so stands that his face cannot bo seen, 'What have you got to say about tier. Br'anscombel" he asks, in a harsh, discordant tone. "My lord, at is an impertinence my speaking at all," says [rale. "Go on. Let me know the worst. I can hardly be more miserable than I am," returns Sartoris, "It was Andrews, the under -gardener, was telling me," begins Simon, with- out any further attempt at hesitation. This morning, early, 1 met him near the Asli Grove. 'Simon,' ho says, 'I Iwant to speak evi' ye. J. have a secret on my mind.' ' '1f you have, my man, keep it,' ! says I. I want none o' your secrets.' For in truth he is often very trouble- some, my lord, though a well-meaning youth at bottom. '13u1 it is on my conscience,' says be, 'and if I don't tell it to you I shall tell it to some one else, because tell it I must, or bust 1' "So when he went that far, my lord, I MAY as how he was real uneasy, anti I made up my mind to listen. And then he says,— Night before last feyther was com- ing through the copse wood that runs ['other side o' the fence from Master Annersley's, and there, in the thickest part o' it, he saw Miss Ruth a standing, and we her Mr, Branscombe: . "'Which Bir. Branscombe?' says I. "'Mr. Dorian,' he says.. 'He seen him as plain as life, though it was dusk, standing wi' 1119 back hall turned to- ward him, but not so turned but what he could see his ear and part o' his face. He had a hold o' Miss Ruth's hands ; and was speaking very earnest to her, as tbough he were persuading her to something she were dead against.. And she were drying very bitter, and trying to draw her hands away ; but presently she got quiet like; and then they went away together, slowly at first, but quicker afterward, in the direction of the wood that leads to Langhate. Ile did not stir a peg until they wss out o' sight, he was so afeard o' being seen. And now it is on his conscience that he did not speak sooner, even since he saw old Mr. Annersley yesterday, like a mad creature, looking for his girl.' "That was his story, my lord. And he told it ' as though he meant it. I said to him as hots Mr. Dorian was in Lonnun, anti. that I didn't believe one word of it; and then he said,— 'Lonnun or no Lonnun, there is no mistake about it. If, as you say, he did go up. to Lonnun, he must ha' come down again by the Longhorn train, for he we him Wi' his two eyes.' fr, Horace is very like Mr, Dorian,' I said. (Forgive me, any lord, but there was a moment when I would gladly have believed the blame might fall on Mr. Horace.) There are tunes when one can hardly know them asundere' but he scouted this notion, "'Feyther seen him,' he said. ' He had one o' them light overcoats on he is .80 fond o' wearing. 11 was him, and 3)0 other, He noticed the coat most perticler. And a damn'd shame it is for him 1 1f you don't believe me, I can't help yon. I believe it; that is enough for mo.' " Gale ceases speaking. And silence follows that lasts for several minutes, Then he speaks again: I ask your pardon, my lord, for hav- ing so spoken about any member of the family. But I thought it was only right you should know," You have acted very kindly," Even to himself his tone is strained and cold, This Andrews must be silenc- ed." be says, after a little pause, full of bitterness, "I have seen to that, my lord. After what I Said to him, he will hardly speak again to any one on the subject," "Sea to it, Simon. Let him fully un- derstand that dismissal will be the re- sult 01 further talk." I wll, my lord." Then, very wise; fully, "Not that any one would dis- trust Mr, Dorian in this matter, 1. feel —I know, he is innocent," Lord Sartoris loots at' him strangely; his lips quiver; he seems old and worn and es a man might who bus just seen his last hope perish. "7 envy' you your faith," he says, wearily; I would give half—nay, all I possess, if I could say that honestly." Just at this moment there comes an interruption. A telegram, my lord," says one of the men, .handing in a yellow envelope, Sartoris, tearing it open, reads hur- riedly. 1 shall, not go to town, Gale," ha says, after a minute or two of thought, ddunter-order the carriage., Mr. Ih'anscombe comes home to -night," (To Be Continued.) THE IRE LICE: BUB, $rattler Od,i dnor Lays DOWIS the LAW 10 YArious Il1enlbere, • "iioah am a letter," said Brother Gardner, as be arose derieg the last eee- sion of the Lime Kiln Club—"hear• am a hitter from do secretary 04 stait'f Ar. 'tensely axle' me -what stepa would be tookou le ease a half a dosen members of dis club should sot out to filibuster au' obstruot alt' delay matters of vital interest to the keetry at ]ergo. Sieh a thing las never yit oeeurrod in do history of ells club, but it may 0um.In- deed, Iso bin prepared fur its coram' fur do lest two y'ars. Dar am sartin signs of recklessness irr connecksbun wid sartin members which 1 hey not bin blind to, en' perbaps it will be to de benefit of dose members to ontlilae my programme, "If sartin members of dis club had conspired to obstruct biznesa and bring de United States to de verge of de aw fulest 31811 of anarchy ebor heard :of, de Rev, Penstock would be probably .de pusson appinted to take de initiative He would wait till eve ]tad got down de order of bizness to de bead of 'Sick- ness and Distress,' and den make a mo - shun dot de sum ell sebon dollars be wetted to I3rudder Sundown Jackson, who almost sawed his beadoff on do lam'ly eloso-lino while running eaross de back yard at night. I should refuse to entertain de moshun. Any member of dis club who can't dodge his own close -line had better resign. When I refused to put de moshun de Rev Pen- stock would appeal from de deeishun; Givoadam Jones would call fur de ayes an' noes; Shindig Watkins would move to amend; Samuel Shin would turn out all de lamps on de ally side, an' Kurnol Cahoots would move to adjourn,. • "114 £rens, yo' kin see de sitoshun .nrear ityo'rs mhydraind-'s heaeye,d an' Anchaarcoshy an' wouldcon- fusion prevail, Sir Tonne Walpole, yo'r vice-president, who hain't got much sand, would begin to shake in his butes; Waydown Bebee,yo'r recordin'-secretary who has a stiff neck, would drop down behind his desk to git outer de way of de splinters; Lord Cornwallis Skim merhorn yo'r trusted treasurer, who was once bit by a' mad dog, would close de doah of de safe on our cash receipts fr de eav'nin', an' varus members wuould hustle fur' do -co'ners to keep clear of de falling plaster. What would 1 be, gerrelen—whar would I be an' what. would be my line of ackshun! A pusson by de name of Bir. Cushin' has writ a manual fur all legislative bodiss to go by," softly continued the president, as ha wipod tee prespiration front his brow. "Dat manual. are all right up to de pint whar' a conspiracy begins. Den it am' spotted dat de pee - stein' officer will peal. off an' sail in, should peal, I should remove my collar, necktie, coat an' west, drap m suspenders off my shoulders . au' ruby any hands, an' 1 shoal[] steer by com- pass' fur the Rev. Penstock. He would. try to grow wings an' fly, but he would- n't hey time. 1 would pounce down on bum an' render bim a cripple fur life inside of twenty 08001( .1, Den I should reach out wid one fut fits Givoadam Jones, an' wid de odder fat fur Shindig Watkins, an' boaf of 'em would f811 like autumn leaves bete' a hurrycane, Sam- uel Shin an' Kurnel Cahoots would hol- ler fur mercy, but dar' wouldn't be no mercy in my heart. When I got threw wallopin' an slammin' deir lifeless re- mains could not be identified by dais own wives. If dar' 1105 any mo' ob- structionists hangin' around arter I had finished wid de pussans named— any mo' filibusters who war' determined to hev deir 010-11 way or ruin de kentry —I should begin again an' make 'em wish dey had neber bin bo'nl "hat's de programme, gem'len," con- tinued the president as his excited breathing twos heard all over the hall, "an' it will be faltered right threw is case of necessity. Wo gather here in de interests of de ken11•y at large. While a minority has rights a major- ity must rule, If Mr. Cushun's manual will kiver a case, all right; if it won't, den de presidia' officer must sail in. While I sincerely hope an' trust no sick lamentable occashum may arise, Ize liftuu' dumb -balls an' pnnchin' de bag ebery day to be prepared fur it un case it does cum. Now dat dis subject ,has riz up befo' tis I hey a fete mo' words to add. I has bio pained to observe a lymphatic a athy on de part of 1Curnei St. John Jones regardin' de bigness which brings us together each Saturday eavenin' in de yew. No matter how 'grave de crisis, tie kernel wedges Myself bebind de stove an' chews peanuts, an' is anus sound asleep eerie de meetin' adjourns. De same complaint of apathy—an' de char assures de meetin' dug 'he knows what apathy means—kin be urged agin Lord Cornwallis Johnson, Purfessor Lay - beak White, Gineral Bull Runnleximrose an' seberab others, 1 want to say to 'em right yens an' now dat Paradise hall am not a lodgin' house, an' dere weekly meetius am not progressive euchre parties. If dey can't brace up an' take an interest in de purceedings an' help the rest of us to hold do United States on a level keel, den dey had bet- ter stay away. Hat's all jest now, an' we will pureeed to attack de reg'lar biz- noss of de meetin'. LONG•W INDED ECHOES. One in an Eng Bob ('b drill Reveille Twen Iy.en° Sri lawes. One of the most remarkable echoes known is that on the north side of Ship- ley Church in Sussex, which distinctly repeats twenty-one syllables. In the Abbey Church, Saint Albans, there is a curious echo—the tick of a watch may be heard from nue end of the church to the other. In Gloucester Cathedral a gallery of an octagonal forms conveys a whisper across tbe nave seventy-five feet. In this gallery is the following inscription : Doubt not but God, who sits on high, Thy inmost secret prayer's erin bear, When, a dead wail thus cunningly Conveys soft whispers to the ear. in the Cathedral et Girgenti, in Sicily, the slightest whisper is borne with per- fectastinetnoss from the great west- ern Adair to the cornice babied the altar, a distance of. 251 feet. In the whispering gallery of St. Paul's the faintest sound is faithfully °moosea from one side to the other of the dome, but, is not heard at any intermediate point. In the Man - trent 'Palace at Venice, in a square room about 25 fent high, with a conrave roof, in which a person standing in the centre and stamping gently with hie foot an the floor, hears the sound repeated a great many times; but as his position deviates from the centre tbe refloated sounds grow fainter, and, at a shorb dis- tance wholly cease. The same pllereen- enon occurs in a large ra)m of the lib- vnplas. o1? FACTS ABOUT THEA. Tea.tlaltnre tutu (90 Evils 0f'r0adtrl1dtlnr -•aY wroisnes An Tes--AAs 41r0Otll Au Auden* [Minn, .en interesting faOI regarding the 101u- perance question .that 680nls to have re- oeivsd 111110 o1' nopttentlon is this; The opponents of aieohol, with hardly en ex- ceetiAn, Oro eleves of the teapot, finding in it the stimulus for tvol'n-out nerves, and NM sohtco that alcohol brings in a different way. Time the definition 1503 been given to tea, " the teetotaler's toxicant." undoubtedly the demand for tea is the expression of&octan• !, and healthy desire, For ages, in three different con, tinonte, men have used the leaves or Seeds of plants to brew beverages whose active prineipio Ives identical. From, this it has been argued that that prin- ciple was intended by the eeonolny of nature to be of eorviee to humanity, But on the other, hand, it is undeniable that in the subtle and potent drug that lurks in e 13 athat be avoidethetead therbecause oaf ditsnger charm, seemisto 10513' n, opwho a't goat along witocenthout a dish o£le tea ecvery day, aro 0o notinless numTlioerouspethan thosne who must have a drink of liquor. In the case of alcohol the system itself gives warning when the limit of pru- dence has been reached. Its effects are readily perceptible at every stage, but thein, the drug at the basis of tea, can be taken into the system innocently and in dangerous quantities, the drinker hav- ing no idea that he has passed the line of peril to his constitution. Toa quickens the heart's action, gen- tly and agreeably. It stimulates the nerve centres pleasantly, and arouses the intellectual faculties, stretching teem to A DANGEROUS POINT. Meanwhile tannin, another chemical principle in tea, slowly impairs ,the coat of the stomach. All this time the drink- er of the beverage le unaware that his nerves are being shattered and his di- gestion ruined, and that the slowpois- oning has long been going op. During the latter half of this century tea drinking has increased enormously throughout the civilized world, and strangely enough, during the time nerve weakness and irritability have largely increased, Over -sensitive nerves and impaired digestion are already most pre- valent in civilized countries. In Eng- land the consumption remains steady, tea imbibing being a thoroughly formed national habit. It is rapidly getting more and more an American custom. Along towards the commencement of the Christian era the mandarins of China began to make a decoction from the leaves of a Corean plant. This aft- erwards became known as tea, and the secret of its preparation was kept in China for over seven hundred years, IC is interesting to note in this connection that beer was invented several hundred years prior to this, Caesar's soldiers hos- ing learned to drink it in 0310 of the campaigns in Gaul. Japan learned the mysteryoftea early in the eighth cen- tury, when Chommo Tenno, the Mikado, entertained a deputation of Buddhist priests from Corea. From that time on tea culture and tea drinking spread through the islands of Japan, anti later the tradesmen never would think of et - tempting a sale without offering their prospective customer a cup of the scent- ed beverage. It was at about this date,. too, that the custom of five o'clock teas first cams into vogue, notwithstanding that it is generally -believed to have been an English innovation. Tea found its way into Europe through the caravan routes to Russia early in the seventeenth century. In 1657 tea was first served on an English table, A curious and almost unknown fact is that the first export of Britisb- rown tea to England was of the crop of 1837. It came in with Victoria. WATER NOT POPULAR. A 5leateal view of lie Use Three centuries Age. It needed a very bold man to resist the medical testimony of three cen- turies ago against water drinking. Few writers can be found to saga good word for it. One. or two only aro con- cerned to maintain that, "when begun in early life it may be pretty freely drunk with impunity," and they quote the curious instance given by Sir Thom- as Elyot in his "Castle of Health," 1511, of the Cornish men, "many of the poor- er sort, which never, or very seldom, drink any other drink, be notwithstand- ing strong of body and like and live well until they be of great age." Thomas Cogan, the medical schoolmaster of Manchester fame, confessed in his "Hav- en of Health," 1589, designed. for the use of students, that he knew some who drink cord water at night or fasting in tbe morning without hurt ; and Dr. James Bart, writing about fifty years letor, could even claim among his ac- quaintance "some honorable and wor- shipful ladies who drank little other drink, and yet enjoy more perfect health than most of them that drank of the strongest." The phenomenon was un- deniable, but the natural -inference was none the less' to be resisted. Sir Thom- as k:lyot himself is very certain, in spite of the Cornish mon, that "there be in water car0ea of divers diseases, as of swelling of the spleen and liver." He complains oddly, also that ' it flitteth and swuinnmmetli," end concludes that complexions hotexlons itt. doeth lessa thatbe of im and sometimes 11 pprofiteth, but to then[ that aro feeble, old, and lnelanoholy, it is not convenient." "Water is not wholesome cool by itself for an Englishman," was the version of. Andrew Bordo—monk, physician, bishop, ambassador, and writ- er on sanitation—as the result o£ .i life's ex-lperienre, And to quote the "Eng - Bete 13ote water and small beer, we make no gnesttOnbn., Are enomles 10 health and good di - But ,the most formal ,indictment against water is that of Vennor, who, writing in 162'), ponderously pronounces "to dwellers in. cold countries it doth very greatly deject their appetites, de- stroy the natural heat and overthrow the strength of the stonraoh, and con- sequently confonndine the concoction is the cause of cruditrons, fluctuatings and windiness in the body." Substitute for Gold, In France a new substitnto for gold has been formed by combleing ninety- four parts of copper with ear parts of apt.mony, and adding a little magne- sium carbonate to increase the weight. It is seed that this alloy can be drawn, wrought and soldered very mush like. gold, and that it also receives and re- tains a golden polish. It is worth about twenty -Live cents a pound. i 3BuA Y 26, 1f,390 ROUND THE WHOIE ORLDS WkIAT 15 .OQINft1 Q.N IN TJI1 FOUR, CORNHRS QF Trte a40B54 v t01Cl old and New World Events a trnn !tiled Briefly--lnterestin8 Happenings of Recent Data, William Emerson, a tiny 1.Bnalishmen; fifteenyearof .ineleis achigh, died in the 02nd hos e, r 'Ohl Ktng Albert of Saxony eanekes a heavy German pine with a porcelain bowl, and is devoted to it. Sir Frederic Leighton, who is the first English painterto be made a peer be- cause he is a painter, was born at Scar- borough sixty-six years ago, Sir John Robinson, having resigned the ,editorship of the London Dail News, his place will be taken by. Mr, E. T, Cook, of the Westminster Gazette, Mohammedans in the district ot Ufa, in Russia, are ordered to re-enter the orthodox 011ure11 under penalty of the sequestration of all their property[, Prof. Knackiuss, wlio executed kaiser '' Wiimelm's allegorical cartoon, hsg been appointed director of Lhe Berlin Nation - at Museum, in succession to Dr, Ju- liet Jules Cambon, at present Geyer- , has accepted tho (36sition of editor-.n-oliief of the Sour- liel des Ilebats, which has now become anIon, creno• paper. nor-General of Algeria., There is an enormous business done b tweerr Australia and Europe in kan- garoo skiers. Not less than half a mil: lion skins aro shipped annually to.the United Kingdom along, A 634 -karat diamond, the finest ever, found. in Africa, eves discovered at Jag- ersfontein,in the Transvaal, on the day after Christmas. When cut it is ex- pected that it will be worth 31,500,000. S. Lewis, who was born do Sierra Leone, admitted to the English bar, and afterwards became Chief justice of Sierra Leone, was knighted on Now Year's day, This is the first time that a full-blooded negro has been knighted, Daring 1895 the London mint struck off 72,245;995 coins, about ten million more than in 1894. The value of the (140gold,995, coins was 43,592,625; of the silver coins, £1,196,168, and of the bronze, William Morris' new edition o£ Chaucer, printed at Kelenscott press, is one of the dearest; books ever published. The copies on vellum costs 1.0 guineas (3010) each'. An edition of Morris' Earthly Paradise," 1.0 be issued in eight volumes, will cost 3285. Superstition has just killed a Bohem- ian bride. A young woman was stand - big up to be married in the church at Tisek, when one of the tapers on the side of the attar nearest her went out. She shrieked "illy candle is extinguish- ed 1" and fell down dead. The popular belief is that if one of the tapers goes out it means calamity for the person on whose side it stands. An imperial bacteriological labora- tory is to be established at Agra and ,an imperial chemical laboratory at Cal- cutta by the Government of ladle. Other laboratories on a smeller scale will be established to each over the Presidencies, and all officers are to have six months' training in bacteriology. There are nearly five and a half mil- lion Catholics in the United Kingdom, 1,500,050 in England and Wales, 305,001) in Scotland and 3,550,000 in Ireland. Fort -one peers aEngland, Scotland and Ireland are Roman Catholics, as are 53 baronets. 15 privy councillors, 3 Eng- lish and 67 Irish members 01 Parlia- ment, An English paper relives an old story about Artomus \Ward. When he was in London he gave a children's party. One of `John Engines sons was invited, and retuvened home radiant, "Olr, papa," he explahied, on being asked whether be had enjoyed himself, 'Indeed, I did 1 And Mr. Browne gave mo such a nice name for you, papa." 'What was that 1" "Why, he asked mo how that gay and festn'e cuss, the governor, was 1" replied the boy. Castor oil is usually associated with medicine, and supposed to be particu- larly well adapted tor infants. It will surprise many to know that it is large- ly used in the arts. Scotland alone uses upwards of 145,000 gallons annually for the process of Turkey red dying. Its use as a' lubricant has been largely re- placed by petroleum, but in other arts its consumption is increasin'. It is largely used for dressingtanned leather. The importation into the 'United King- dom exceeds 2,000,030 gallons annually, Sir Gordon Sprigg, who succeeds Mr. Rhodes as Premier of Cape Colony, is the son et a Baptist minister at 1pswic1, and began lite as a newspaper man, He showed ;signs of consumption in his thirtieth year, and the doctor told him that his only ebance of life was h warm climate. Ho went to the Cape mar- ried a tanner's daughter, and turned farmer himself, and gradually made his way up in the politics of the colony un- til he was elected to the Cape Parlia- ment, After that his career was rapid, and he is now Prime Minister for the third time. The most interesting physician of the present time in Europe is Herr lest, the shepherd doctor, who prescribes for thousands of patients at ltadbruch. Ile diagnoses disease by .examining a lock of the patient's bair, and his universal 'Marge for advice is about auarter of a dollar. Clients wait patiently the whole day through to see lain, even in bad weather, and if by the time ho re- tires,, near midnight, they have failed to have an audience with him, they take their posts uncomplainingly the next morning. The doctor's patients are referred to by the skeptical as Ast's sheep." i A Man -Power Ambulance. John Carter, an :Englishman, has in- vented a perambulator, which its in- ventor calls an ambulance, consists of a stretcher laid on a two -wheeled truck, and provided with handles, somewhat after the manner of a push cart, One improvement over the trevail1ihg sys- tem obvious. The motion of the veh- icle is very oasv. The patient rests on a double set of springs, which do away with the jarring so disagreeable in horse ambulances. The arrangement is styled, the "Saivator. ' I1) has no phis, buttons, springs or catches to get out of order. Everything is automatic. The readiness with which it is handled is of signal advantage in cases where minutes are precious. The hood may bo drawn down thus screening the patient's head from view, but is set arranged that he is not deprived of a constant supply of fresh air. The perambulator le provide ed with surgical instruments, which may be needed in the emergency, besides stimulants and drugs. vas Asia is the most populous quarter of the globe; it is reckoned to contain 500,000,000 of people.