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' / Copyright 1W. br K??i CHAPTER XXIII. Continued. These observations convinced me that uncle 8am bad that morning de- ' ceivod me when he had so Jauntily as-4 ' erted that old Mr. Wolsey could tell ' his wife nothing which she did not al- ^ ready know. I was not, however, so much Interested In that consideration 1 an In the disquietude of Constance. ' and in hope that I might be able to 1 comfort her, my aunt had no sooner taken up her position by the piano than 1 I crossed over and occupied the sea! ' be had just vacated. The attention of the company was 1 wholly bestowed upon the singer, and the sound of another voice, though bnt j In a whisper, would have been rightly regarded as an ill-mannered lnterrup- ' tion. Though I could not for the mo- ' ment speak to my fair one. I was able, ' ren in that pnbllc situation, to press 1 her little hand In mine with a slgnifl- * canoe which was not misunderstood. Aunt Gertrude was followed by several other singer* of various degrees 1 of merit, bat all alike In so far as they 1 prevented conversation between Con- ' stance sod me, nor coma l ma any convenient opportunity to Intunogste her until we were again on board the , Iroquois. Fortunately 1 bad not long to wait for tbls, for tbe river being a alow way to return to New York City It waa decided that we should leave Tarrytown early. We were no sooner on board than my aunt whom I suspect partly understood the aspect of affairs, wtbdrew to the cabin to resume her book, leaving Constance nnd, I to do as we would. Tbe evening being delightfully line and cool, and the sky an unfathomable blue stndded with innumerable stars, to say nothing of other reasons, of course we preferred to remain upon deck. Notwithstanding my impatience to know precisely how Constance was affected by the. information sue bad gained from Mr. Fuller's letter to Mr. Price, we were seated dbsely together for several minutes before I ventured to ask her. and when I did so my question received no reply, but hot tears Kell. upon my hand. I was painfully (surprised and unnerved by this inci-1?-t, HmMo tho /11a. <0UII? UUU AUVU UV11U ?#V*aw? WW tressed girl, saying I know not what, but doing all in my power to comfort Iber. After a little while she became inore composed and looked at me steadIlly. "My sister most never know of this." she said; Mlt would kill her." "Most never know of what?" I asked. "Of the contents of that letter Mr. Price showed me." "1 have not read that letter, but I fear X know what yon refer to," I inswered. "Your words confirm the lettti. I feared It was true as I read it Poor dear Gertie! and she is such a loving wife, and has such unbounded admiration of ber husband. Can It be that aO men ire false?" "V? iltrlln* ! Mnn/it Knt T MnfM* I greatl/ fear there are many <ucb. ! Speaking (or myself, I swear by the , sky shore and the water beneath, and ( by the great Being who created them both, that yon aire the only woman I have ever desired; that if you will be aalne and faithful to me. according to your promise and my belief, 1 am yours, and yours oftly. till I die. With x your faith in mankind tbtui rudely shaken, and knowing that I must leave you to-morrow not to see you again for at least a month, can you trust Constance looked up at me. and the tears in her eyes glistened in the starlight as she softly replied: -I will trust you." I caught the dear girl in my arms, and pressing ber face to mine, for the first time restowed open her Hps? llfk.4 t. *kt. v ? _ * + * met. n? niwi is uu* t biu writing; jlan wui ever do. On reading this page It really impresses me as more like a leaf from a novel than a passage from the memoirs of a middle aged English squire. CHAPTER XXIV. tn ACCUSATION. Holdenhnrst Tillage! Was it possible that I bad been absent from it but little more than three weeks? The calendar affirmed that soch was the case. Why. In those few. days I bad traveled farther, seen more of mankind, and committed myself for good or for evil more deeply than In all my life besides. Yet; this was my native place, unchanged In any respect, yet somewhat strange to me now that I regarded It Id the light of an enlarged experience. There was the quiet, straggling street; the old Norman church on the hill surrounded by moss-grown, half-obliterated stone memorials of bygone generations; the Truman Arms, our village Inn. with the carrier's horse drinking Water from a trough outside while bis master refreshed himself within, and the great iron gates of the Hall, surmounted by the heraldic devices of the Truman family, a lion struggling Id the coils of a python. It was past midday when I entered Holdpiihunr an font. nn?l th? was more than usually deserted, bat the village folk, with exception only of the very young and the very old. oould be dlscorned harvesting In tbe fields beyond, while over tbe whole scene brooded that oppressive heaviMas which /a England not commonly heralds an autumnal storm. At I bad not communicated with my father since despatching the telegram from New York announcing my intended return, no conveyance was at Bury St. Edmund'a to meet me?a circumstance for which I waa inclined to be thankful, for my Journey from New York, long and tedious as It was, bad aot sufficed for me to digest all my recant experiences, and I was any thins rst.liHallij ==- IT ILTER BLOOMFIELD est b mnt 8o?? Uut prepared to meet my father and John Adams-particularly the latter. A long walk alone on a country road [ bad always found a favorable condition for solving any problem which perplexed me. but to-day my specific failed to produce its usual effect; I tvas unable to shape or in any Tray adequately realize the results which might follow the doing of that which [ bad returned to England to do. and irhen I turned Into the patoh which led !ip to the Hall my mind was scarcely more clear than the sky above me? now more than ever dark, but emit* ting frequent flashes of lightning. On entering the house I was told by t servant that my father and Mr. Wolsey were together In the study, ind I went there to them at once without ceremony. Both were unfeignedly pleased at my return, my grandfather regarding me with much curiosity, and 'xpresaing his pleasure at my increased taelght and apparent health. "To think that Ave years should make such a difference T exclaimed my grandfather. "When I left Hoiienhurst you were a mere boy; now fou are almost a man." -Not quiter I asked. "Well, hardly." said my grandfather. 'A fellow-passenger of mine, a clever old fellow who came from 8ydney to England with me, used to say there iras no man under thirty years of age." "Your friend is wrong." I replied. "A large part of the world's best work baa been done by men when they were lesa than thirty. For my part. I am convinced that my judgment In general matters is aa sound as it will ever be. and I shouldn't hesitate in making nnasslsted decisions In all matters relaHnv tn mrialf " Mr. Wolsey seemed a little disconcerted by my vigorous reply, and looked Inquiringly at my father, but tbe latter, affecting not to notice It, turned the conversation by asking If [ had a pleasant voyage to England. "A very pleasant voyage. Indeed." I replied; "no such storm as this either going or returning"?for at that moment tbe rain was lashing against the windows with tremendous force, and thunder and lighting were almost constant. MI was just completing an arrangement with your grandfather," ssld my Father, speaking slowly, as he turned Dver a number of leases and agreements which lay piled upon bis desk in front of him. "Mr. Wolsey has igreed to settle down at Holdenburst,. though not as my tenant As you know, I have no less than four farms at present vacant, and as soon as Mr. Pflnnar *am T shrill hnrs finnthor Tn look for an agricultural tenant In these times Is like seeking for tbe philosopher's stone, so I have offered ywr grandfather his old honse (it has remained empty ever since he left it) and a small salary, and he has undertaken to superintend the cultivation of my tenantless farms. What witb bad reasons and the low prices at which foreign agricultural produce is put upon our markets, the farmers are really in desperate straits, and it's difficult to see what the end of it all will be. Nothing but a doty on the Importation of corn, or a European war. can are them from ruin. Mr. Fuller himself admits as much, though be doesn't see his way clear to pray for either of those things. Oi course you are glad that your grandfather is to be near us again.** "Most assuredly I am. and?** I added with a sudden outburst of cour age?"I am very pleased that be has accomplished tbe purpose which occasioned bis going away. How is my cousin Annie?" My grandfather seemed surprised at my question and remained silent, while my father glanced uncomfortably at us both. "Is she quite well?" I inquired again. -"Poor Annie is better in health than reputation." said my father after a pause, answering for Mr. Wolsey. "I am sorry to say it. but my brother is a heartless villain. I never thought be was to black aa be la." "And I don't think be Is so black as some people regavd film." I answered, with unguarded warmth. "Is it not possible uncle 8am may be able to urge some consideration which will extenuate the fact that be took Annie away without her father's consent? Besides, Annie is old enough to know the consequences of her acts." "Did your uncle tell you to say that to us?" asked my two companions Is a breath. . "No. Indeed, he did not; nor did he suggest any such ideas to mc. I speak only for myself." "Then I am sorry. Ernest, that you have no clearer ideas of right and wrong." said my father. "Ob. as to that, different people View a matter differently. Even If a man were convicted of a particular offence I should not regard that fact as proof nt hit arilllt of Another nnil tntnllv illf. ferent offence, but there are people whose Ideas of right and wrong permit them to reason so." I felt strongly for my uncle Sam. and could nqt hear the man who bad been so extraordinarily kind to me abused without a feeling of indignation. As If to add force to my declaration I had scarcely aracuiaieu me ia?i worn whgn a terrible flash of lightning brilliantly Illuminated the almost darkeoed room, and was followed by a tremendous thunderclap which shook the whole bouse. The veiled reference to the Inference my father had drawn from nncle Sam's affair with Annie Wolsey did not escape attention. But my father was too firmly convinced that his b-other had stolen the sequins to wince at any satire I was master of. Looking at me steadily he said In a reproachful tone: "You have been away from home nearly a month, and are no sooner r* - i i i Mrtft Tl :v~-$2rr torned than ire almost quarrel, a thins we never did till my brother came here. Has not that man caused mischief enough?to me. to your grandra'iher. to your cousin, and I know not who else besides?but he must need destroy all sympathy between you and m??" "Not your brother nor any man could do that." I asserted stoutly. "I am your son, and honor you as a good fi.ther' to whom I owe everything, but BMie the less do I profoundly believe t.'iat you are the victim of a disastrous riistake, and I don't despair of a day to come when you will be thankful that my opinion in the matter of the sequins differed so widely from yours. What If I were to establish beyond question that your brother never had anything to do with those sequins?" "I should be immensely relieved and most devoutly tliankful. But I have - ? do sucn nope: common kusc iviu.u> me to entertain It." "And my common sense will not permit me to reject it." I replied. ''That being db, It is useless for us to talk any more of the matter until you bare something tangible to show In support of your views." said my father, turning away. "Quite so," I agreed: "let us speak no more on this wretched subject until I have." The gong In the hall was sounding for luncheon, but could only be heard Imperfectly amid the din of the Rtorm. which still raged furiously. My father led the way to the dining room, where luncheon was laid for three. There, nervously fussing about the sideboard and appearing older and more decrepit than ever, was the man who bad occasioned my hasty return from America. John Adams regarded me with a pastied look, and with that familiarity which is not unfrequently permitted in Old servants congratulated me on my safe return from abroad. We were no sooner seated at table than Mr. Wolsey, with the laudable | desire, as I thought, of preventing the j conversation from running upon disagreeable topics, inquired how I liked New York, to which I answered that I thought it was a very fine city generally, but that Its harbor and chief river were magnificent. "New York did not impress me so favorably," remarked Mr. Wolsey:"lt Is evident that you have seen only the better part of that city. I was there for two months, and I never want to see the place again." MI was in New York for only five days, and I hope to see that city again very soon. Indeed I am not sure but that I would like to live there entirely" "The absence of a middle class corresponding to what we in England understand by thnt term," pnrsued Mr. Wolsey, Ignoring my remark, "strikes me as very bad for the whole of society there. Perhaps you did not observe that It Is only rich persons who can affon) to keep a house entirely for their own use. and that the smaller traders, artisans and laborers are herded together in tenement houseshug?, unsightly barracks of great height, each accommodating scores of families. What can be said for such a system In a climate where in summer the thermometer commonly stands ninety In the shade, and for weeks together there Is not so much breeze as would flutter a leaf?" "I noticed none of those things." "They are to be seen by whoever i looks for them." continued Mr. \tol- \ sey. "And then again, the conditions ' of life are every bit as hard as in London or any other great city. Work in New York Is fully aa difficult to obtain and is no better paid for. prices considered. than in any city of the Old World. No intelligent American who has traveled denies this." "I am afraid Erneat take* but little interest in public questions." remarked my father. "They will force themselves upon his attention as he grows older." Mr. Wolsey went on. "With but little modification my remarks apply with equal truth to Melbourne and Sydney, or indeed any city of modern creation. In all of them the old-fashioned qualities of patient perseverance, abstinence and thrift are as necessary to the amassing of a fortune as in England to-day. though tbey afford greater opportunities for the wily and unscrupulous to grow ricb speedily in the manipulation of monopolies and public funds, and the practice of rascalities not possible In older communities." to ue continued. > The Billboard X a Isaac*. The Springfield (Obio) Republic takes & sensible view of tbe sign-board advertising nuisance, which it comments upon as follows: In Columbus there is a discussion on at present about street signs. Tbe Capital is much in need of labels for tbe corners (a subject which Springfield ought to be investigating, by the way), but It is the display of popular sentiment in another direction that has been most interesting. Owing to the expense of manufacturing and placing suitable signs, tbe feasibility of granting the contract to some advertising company who would pay for tbe privilege of putting up sign posts with eulogies of its various wares displayed on them, was talked over. Instantly tbe people were up in arms. They declared that such a proceedcre would deface tbe Rtreets and make Columbus a laughing stock. Street signs, tliey said, were already too numerous. and they would rather foot the bill for any proper signs Couucil might see tit to buy. than have money put into the city treasury by an advertising scheme. Ail this goes to show which way the wind is blowing. It may be yearn, but some day fence signs and bill boards aud baru placards will go. The people are gettiug tired of them. We are glad to note the fact that newspapers in all sections of the country are beginning to take up this tight. Tue ranks are growing day by day, and. as the Republic truly say*. "the people are getting tired of them and they must go." This matter Is in the hands of the newspaper publishers IlUCUiBV-nCO. AUCJ' UU, UJf UJUAIU^ UUf ftnlld. united front, \rina nnt tlia mil. sance in tbe twinkling of nn eye?and if they bat knew it, tbe great American people are anxiously waiting for tbe eye to twinkle.?Fourth Estate. Thero is no coronation ceremony for the King of fcpain. jj-.-Kiji: ~ ..... The Largest Eta 1^^ THIS PLANT SUPPLIES THE 1 OF NEW 1UKK l/ITl. Ttll SEVEN MILES OF UAII.V ii THE GREATEST OP 8 ELECTRICAL POWER E HOUSES.::::: J T1IE great electrical power bouse of tbe Manhattan Elevated Railroad system at Seventy-sixth street and the East Kiver. in New York. Is tbe largest of tbe kind in tbe production of electrical units in the world. It has tbe capacity to supply thirty-seven miles of elevated railroad, and will soon l>e In full operation. This great power house contains eight massive electrical generators, which are intended, tinally. to supplant 310 steam locomotives, pulling 1200 cars, and carrying 200.000.000 passengers a year. Each of the generators produces as much energy as WW.000 men would produce working con tinuously. Each generator weighs 3?0.000 pounds, nnd rents in frames fortytwo feet high. The rotary port of each machine is thirty-two feet in diameter, nd revolves at the rate of 7540 feet, or nearly a mile and a half, a minute. These machines are driven by stationary engines of 8500 horse power capacity. The normal capacity of each of these enormous generators is 5000 kilowatts, or 0700 horse power. When driven at their greatest speed they will each prodace 7500 kilowatts, or 10.000 horse power. There is also In the large power house an extensive auxiliary plaut for the use of the power house alone, employing multipolar generators, converters and transformers. There are twenty-six rotary converters. each of 1500 kilowatt capacity, at eight sub stations of the system in the city, and seventy-eight transformers. each of .V?0 kilowatt capacity. to reduce the elcetrlc current from a voltage of 11.000 to .'100. The transformers deliver an alternating current to the converter?, anil thrse in turn deliver a direct current of tI2"i volts, through the third rail, to the car motors. German Capital In Forrlsn Countries. Until thirty years ugo the tSeruian empire was one of the weakest nations financially, hut now, instead of being Id need of foreign capital tiermany is following the example of Knglaml ami France, and Is loaning and investing money in foreign countries. According to a recent Keml-ofticial statement there are about <2.UU0.0UU,000 of (Jeruiuu capital invested iu tla- I'nitcd States and Mexico. It is estimated that another $2.U(NMNJoimni arc Invested in Central and South America. some $?*0,000,000 in Turkey, and al?out $1.000.000.000 in Africa. Australia and the Far East. In addition to this it in claimed that $3,000,01)0.000 are invented in stocks and bonds in different countries. Gallon* or tflMrr. It is estimated that over (100.000 gallons of castor oil are manufactured annually in the United States. . 7 - rr ~9-h. v - - --. ' * n 1 f JS^raoS 9BK||MMHH^^^M|f!l- >'^ki j$1 S^MIVa 9Bfll% 18?.. - .j^9BBB^^^^Bn^Bq^TrglF ^E? ELECTRIC POWER FOR THE MAN ? ENGINES EQUAL 80.000 HORSE V A Y. A ROW or CARVED FIGURES, EASTER ISLAND Among the wonders of the South Sons mny be accounted the curiously carved figures on the shores of Enster QUEER STATUES ON EASTER ISLAND. Islaml. Thfy urp'monoliths, and some of them are over fifty feet In height. These figures terminate Invariably at ! the h'ps and the hack of the heads are [ covered with pictorial inscriptions. The pictures of these strange figures j are reproduced from the Tall Mall Magazine. TOMB Or PRESIDENT FILLMORE I MILLABD FILLMORE. A tall granite shaft oil a wood oil hill In a iK'autiful part of Forest I .awn Cemetery, at Buffalo, N. Y.. marks the spot where Millard Fillmore was buried. Then? Is nothing on tbe face of the monunieiit to show that Fillmore* was once our President. Ireland'* Lunatics. Ireland lias one lunatic for every 178 of tbe uoDulatloD. SKSYSffiitft'fc r *?? i^y^gg^ ^ ?f ; in the World. *~ "i: lr r ] ?ltll 2^wl$ ^B\j5skqhv BBBbBB&SSR? E^fla! r'll ' m&j^nH^Bp ^hp IjBSF'K4 vi HHr HmHBRBRRT!jT nHHUDBi jfr^BkJV^FPB, K < K ^Rj , f ^ m'fitslmMmm j " ^^^ |! ' ' * ^^ HATTAN ELEVATED RAILROAD, POWER. AND OPERATE THIRTY?From Harper's Weekly. I I The " Old-CIo* " Man. Every morning a dark, thick-set rann may be seen walkug up and down Broadway, between Twenty-third and Thirtv-tbird streets. Ofteu be pauses several times to accost some of bis fellow-pedestrians, but qpinetimes be walks bis beat without giving more than a glance to the passers-by. This Sj"Kpty*. A " 1 '-'S ?-?w? -" * . 888- vokh GRACE REFORMED CHl'R mao Is n dealer in old clothe*, and for the last fifteen yenrs he has done most of his business in this particular I part of the city. A great many of the men he meets are his regular customer*. and hi* never worries them by I look or word, knowing that they will I always come to him whenever th'ev i have cast-off garments to sell. But j If the denier sees a stranger?and he j has a faculty for pieking strangers out of a crowd?he Immediately selects that man for his vietim. The "oldI do'" man says that in addition to his I regular customers he catches many ! strangers, and altogether the business | is profitable.- New York Post. The Marconi Kjrutetn Atloplrtl. The Mareoni system of wireless teleI graphy has filtered the Hudson Valley. A station for the transmission of mes - -...1 I.. V* I I sajles Is lllitt- hemp en-run III .nnuur); | mill another will *0011 he established iii Hudson. Yniikerx. Pounhkecpsieand Albany are also selected for stations. A Curloti* Aflllrltnn. "Third-rail eye" is tlie term applied to n curious aftllcllou. supftosedly caused by tlie iniKlern third-rail electri< railway. It necnm to I* due to tlie eiitrunee of niiiiute particles of steel into tin- eye. and cnuscs much anguish. A Mothers' and Kilhrrt' Club. The Mothers' and Father's Club, of Roston. has a full library of books on educational matters, and which relate to the training of children. All one's life is music, If one touci.< the notes rightly. | Where (be President | | Goes to Chorcb. i J >7 Gabrtclle Harts JicoM. $ THAT Theodore Roosevelt should have chosen oue of Washington's smallest and least prctentbus churches as I hi* place of worship was characterisi tic of hitu as man and President. Cirnce Reformed Church occupies the roar portion or n valuable piece or lami at the northeast corner of Fifteenth and O streets. Just at the eastern border of Washington's most fashionable residence section. In common with many other small churches, whether in elty or village, it represents years of supreme self-denial on the part of a few devoted souls?In this case the descendants of those sturdy pioneers who came from the Rhine Palatinate early in the fifteenth century, and settled In Montgomery County and other eastern counties In Pennsylvania. The adherents of this denomination. later known as "The German Itefiirmn<1 f'linrch In tliA I'nlfml Stnfai "* spread upward along the Hudson and downward Into North Carolina. establishing places of worship and founding institutions of learning, and otherwine so deeply taking root in the fertile s-jil of a free country that at its second general synod, held in Itayton. Ohio, in 1WD, the word "German" was dropped from Its name, and It became known qp the "Reformed Church lu the United States." Its worship Is liturgical and its government presbyterian. The first of Its ministers who came to this country brought with them the liturgies of those sections of Germany and Switzerland from which they emigrated, preference being given to that of the Palatinate. This, with a few modifications, continued in use until 1866. when the present order of worship was reported by a AAinntl(to/t n nn/?lr? tn<1 mirtVAon vwiiiujiuru ivi (lie j/ut |/vo* Each congregation Is governed >>7 a consistory, composed of pastor, elders and deacons. The elders and deacons are ordained by the laying on of bands. Tlie Washington congregation was organized in 1877, and the church at Fifteenth and O streets was built two or three years later. It is a small building, of red brick, crowned by a tpodest spire and cross. The sloping ceiling Is frescoed In a delicate shade of blue, with friezes in neutral tints, and the windows are of stained glass In a simple, yet tasteful design. Over the altar are three black tablets, bearing in gilt letters the Lord's Prayer, the Apostle's Creed and the Ten Commandnu-nts. At the left of the altar a slightly elevated Inclosure forms the choir loft. Every Sunday morning, just at the sfpnlrn t\f 11 #1 vnlitnfnrr cnnnfla frn?n the sweet-toned chapel organ. It la followed with an anthem by the choir, during which an usher escorts to the second pew in the middle tier the President of the United States, usually accompanied by one or two of his chlldren. He leaves the White House a few minutes before 11. and with rapid strides passes up Sixteenth street, scarcely slackening his pace when he gains the brick walk leadlnfe to the* door of the church. Taking bis place reverently In his pew Mr. Roosevelt follows tbe order of worship and sings the hymns with a reverence befitting a descendant of the sturdy Netherlands am ' wltA fA?KrlnfM rmrwic ft nil t h/i CI0 T? I1U |"/|'vn mmm ?hv ocean itself, and during their warfare planted and nurtured the seed* of an undying faith. When the benediction has been pronounced the worshipers ??-? * CH. WASHINGTON, D. C. ' remain standing in the pew* until be has left the church. The present pastor of Grace Church, Ilev. J. M. Schick. IX I)., assumed bis charge four years ago. Since hi* incuinlK'ncy the membership has rapidly increased, and the little church is now too small for even the regular congregallon. Consequently, during the past summer ground was broken for the foundation of a very much larger house nf worship, on the vacant space whh'b lies just south of the parsonage I and fronting the present church.j Woman's Home Companion. Ilullrilng l*p .Manhood. Tlie even-tempered, happy-hearted. '? ... .t._ ? ? su:u:u;;-iaceu >vuuiiiii in iur tint- ?ui? has the strong au?l unvarying lutluenee over a man. Cheerful words are tin warm sun-rays which melt the ley rust from a man's heart, penetrate to the springs of all his l?est impulses, and quic ken into life and action his affection. his generosity, his ambition, his pluck, his buoyancy of spirit, li!* faiih in others, his conlidence in himself. and make of him the good-natured companion at home, the clearheaded, earnest worker in business, and the brave, ready-witted mj?n for all exigencies. Such are the products of woman's love and cheerfulness, and from such emanate the shining marks trim fire cnsllv rm>ni?nlu>tl m ftir> limne UIcIh ami the world-heroes of the buI man race. ! The panorama of I^omlon. painted in | :SJ!> by Mr. liorner, covered over an :.tp of canvas.