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lewis >i- christ. proprietor, j gin Independent Tamils gleicspaper: Ifor. the |romofion of the political, ,$ocial, gfgticultiiral and Commercial Interests of the South. |terms?$2.00 a year in advance VOL. 40. YOBKVILLE, S. C., WEDNESDAY, NOVEMBER 14, 1894. 3STO. 46. ] _ ? BY RIDER Author of "King Solomon's "Allen Quai Pnnvrlnht IS?, hv the Author. m -o-'i * 1 - * ? SYNOPSIS. Chapter I.?Thomas Wingtield was born in England of an English father and ?, a Spanish mother. His mother confided to him that a certain Spaniard had sworn to take her life. Chaptkr II?One day, when Thomas was about 18, he went out into the mayfields to a tryst with Lily Bozard. A Spanish stranger attacked him on the road, and the boy cudgeled the ruffian into helplessness, leaving him tied to a tree. Chapter III.?Lily's father detects Thomas kissing the maiden to seal a love compact and forbids further meetings of the lovers." Returning home, Thomas finds the Spaniard gone and his mother lying dead on a scene where foot prints betray a struggle. Chapter A*.?The mother has been stabbed by the Spaniard. Jean de Garcia, her cousin. Thomas' father tells the story of his own early adventures in Spain, of Do Garcia. Chapter V.?He sails for Spain. Lily Bozard pledges eternal love. Chapters VI and VII.?Thomas is a medical student and finds employment in Seville with a popular quack?Dr. Fonesca. He meets DeGarcia and is prevented from killing him by a woman whom the villain has wronged. CHAPTER VIIL thomas becomes rich. For many months wo heard no more of n? fiarela or of Isabella do Sicuenza. -- Both had vanished, leaving no sign, and wo searched for them in vain. As for mo, I fell back into my former way of life of assistant to Fonseca, posing before the world as his nephew. But it camo about that from the night of my duel with the murderer my master's health declined steadily through tho action of a wasting disease of tho liver which baffled all skill, so that within eight months of that time ho lay almost bedridden and at the point of death. His mind indeed remained quite clear, and on occasions ho would even rcceivo those who camo to consult him, reclining on a chair and wrapped in his embroidered robe. But the hand of death lay on him, and he knew that it was so. As the weeks went by ho grew more and, more attached to mo till at length, had I: been his son, ho could not have treated me with greater affection, while "for my part I did what lay in my power to lessen his sufferings, for ho would let no other physician near him. At length when ho had grown very feeblo he expressed a desire to see a notary. Tho man he named was sent for and remained closeted with him for an hour or more, when ho left for awhile to return, with several of his clerks, who accom-. panted him to my master's room, from whence I was excluded. Presently they She thought awhile, then threw off her cloak. ell went away, bearing sown narchments with them. That evening Fonscca sent lor me. I found him very weak, but cheerful and full of talk. "Como here, nephew," ho said. ''I have had a busy day. I havo been busy all my life through, and it would not be well to grow idle at the last. Do you know what I havo been doing this day?" I shook my head. "1 will tell you. I havo been making my will?there is something to leave?not so very much, but still something." '"Do not talk of wills," I said. "I trust that you may live for many years." He laughed. "You must think badly of my case, nephew, when you think that 1 can bo deceived thus. I aui about to die, as you know well, und I du not fear death. My life 1ms been prosperous, but not happy, foritwus blighted in its spring ?no matter how. Tho story is an old one and not worth telling. Moreover, whichever way it hod read, it hud all been one now in tho hour of death. Nephew, listen. Except certain sums that 1 have giv en to bo spent in charities?not in masses, mind you?I have left you all I possess." * iou havo left it to me!" I said, astonished. "Yes, nephew, to you. Why not? I have no relations living, and I have learned to love you, I who thought that I could never again wire for any man or woman or cnua. I am grata ui to you, wno novo m proved to mo that my heart is not dead. Take what I give you as a mark of my gratitude." Now I began to stammer my thanks, but ho stopped ma "The sum that you will Inherit, nephew, amounts in all to about 6,000 gold pesos, or perhaps 12,000 of your English pounds, enough for a young man to begin life on, even with a wlfo. Indeed there in England it may well bo held a great fortune, and I think that ^ your betrothed's father will make no more objection to you as a son-in-law; also thero is this house und all that it contains. Tho library and tho silver ore valuable, and you will do well to keep them. And now one word more. If your conscience will let you, abandon tho pursuit of De Garcia. Tako your fortune and go with it to Englund, wed that maid whom you desire, and follow after happiness in what^ ever way seems best to you. Who are you that you should mete out vengeance on this knave Do Garcia? Lot him bo, and he will avenge himself upon himself. Otherwise you may undergo much toil and danger and in tho end lose love and life and fortune at a blow." ' But I have sworn to kill him," I answered, "and how can I brcuk so solemn an oath? How could I sit at home in peace beneuth the burden of such shame?" 'T do not know. It is not forme to judge. You must do us you wish, but in the doing of it it may happen that you will fall into greutcr shames thun this. You havo fought the man, and he hus escaped you. Let him go if you are wise. Now bend down and kiss me and bid me farewell. I do not desire that you should 6ee me die, and my death is near. I cannot tell if we shall meet again when In your turn you have laid us I lie now, or ^ if we shupe our course for different stars. If so, farewell forever." Then I leaned down and kissed him on the forehead, and as I did so I wept, for vot till this hour did I learn how truly I hud come lo love him, so truly that it bLVUJl'U IW IIIU iid IUUU?1I IIIJ KlUHl AU%> there dying. 'Weep not," he said, "for nil our life is hut a parting. Once I had a son like you, and ours was the bitterest of farewells. Now I go to seek for hint again who could not come back to me, so weep not because I die. Goodby, Thomas Wingfield! May God prosper and protect you! Now go!' So I went weeping, and that night, before the dawn, all was over. I buried Andres de Konseca, but with no pomp, for he had said that he wished as little money its possible spent upon his dead body, and returned to the house to meet the notaries. Then the seals were broken and the parchments read, and I was put in full possession of the dead man's wealth, nnd having deducted such sums as were payable for dues, legacies and fees the notaries left me, bowing humbly, for was I not rich? Yes, I was rich. Wealth had come to me without effort, and I had reason to desire it, yet this was the saddest night that I had passed sinee I set foot in Spain, for my mind * was filled with doubts and sorrow, and, moreover, my loneliness got a hold of me. But sad as it might be it was destined to seem yet more sorrowful before the morning, for as I sat making, a pretense to eat, a servant came to me, saying that a' woman waited in the outer room who had Sift?:i ZEi^Q-Gk^IRJD, Mines," "She," "He," "Jess," terinain," etc. ! asked to see his late master, (luessing j that this was some client who had not j heard of Fonseca's death, I was about to order that she should be dismissed, then bethought mo that I might be of service | j to her or at the least forget some of my I 1 own trouble in listening to hers. So I ! bade them bring her in. Presently sho come, a tall woman wrapped in ft dark cloak that hid her fuco. I bowed and mo- j tloned to her to bo seated, when suddenly she started and spoke. ,4I asked to sec Don Andres do Fonsc' ca," sho said in a low, quick voice. ''You arc not he, scnor." ''Andres do Fonsecawas buried today," i I answered. "I was his assistant in his business and am his heir. If I can servo ' you in any way, I am at your disposal." "You are young?veryyoung," shcmurmured confusedly, ''and tho matter is so j terrible and urgent. How can I trust you?" "It is for you to judge, scnora." I Sho thought awhile, then drew off her cloak, displaying the robes of a nun. "Listen," she said. "I must do many a penance for this night's work, and very ; hardly havo I won" leave to como hither ; upon an errand of mercy. Now, I cannot : go back empty handed, so I must trust J you. But first swear by the blessed Mother j I of God that you will not botray me." j "I givo you my word," I answered. "If j that is not enough, let us end this talk." i "Do not be angry with me," she plead- : ed. "I havo not left my convent walls for ; many years, and I am distraught with 1 grief. I sock a poison of the deadliest. I | will pay well for it." "I am not tho tool of murderers," I an- j swered. "For what purpose do you wish j the poison?" "Oh, I must tell you?yet how can I? In our convent there dies tonight a woman young and fair?almost a girl indeed? who has broken the vows she took. Sho ( dies tonight with her babe?thus, O God, ! thus!?by being built alive into the foun! dations of the house she has disgraced. It ! is the judgment that has been passed upon fcor?inilimipnt. wirhnnt forgiveness or re ? ? o I pricvc. I iun the abbess of this convent? i ask not its name or mine?and I love this j ; sinner as though she were my daughter. I j havo obtained this much of mercy for her ! because of my faithful services to the I church and by secret influence?that when I give her tho cup of water before the work j | is done I may mix poison with it and touch I the lips of the Imbc with poison, so that | their end is swift. I may do this and yet havo no sin upon my soul. I have my par- ! don under seal. Help me, then, to bo an j innocent murderess and to save this sinner from her last agonies on earth." I cannot set down the feelings with which I listened to this talc of horror, for ! i words could not carry them. I stood aghast, | seeking an answer, and a dreadful thought j | entered my mind. 'Is this woman named Isabella do Slg- I uenza?" I asked. "That namowas hers in tho world," i : she answered, "'though how you know it j ! I cannot guess." "Wo know many things in this house, | mother. Say, now, can this Isabella bo | , saved by money or by interest?"' t "It is impossible. Her sentence has been | i confirmed by tho tribunal of mercy. She must dio and within two hours. Will you not give mo tho poison!"' "I cannot give it unless I know its purpose, mother. This may bo a barren tale, and the medicine might l>c used in such a I fashion that I should fall beneath the law. At one price only can I give it, and that Is that I am thero to see it used." Sho thought awhile and answered: "It may.be done, for as it chances the wording of -my absolution will cover it. But you must come cowled as a priest, that those who carry out the sentence may ; know nothing. Still others will know, ' and I warn you that should you speak of tho matter you yourself will meet with misfortune. The church avenges itself on j HIOSC wxio uciruy us sareis, miiui. "As ono day its secrets will avenge themselves upon the church," I answered bitterly. "And now let me seek a fitting drug?one that is swift, yet not too swift, lest your hounds should see themselves i lMifflcd of their prey before all their dcvil| try is done. Here is something thuf will do the work," and I held up a vial that I drew from a ease of such medicines. ; "Come, veil yourself, mother, and let us 1 be gone upon this 'errand of mercy.' " She obeyed, and presently we left tho house and walked swiftly through tho crowded streets till we came to the ancient part of the city along the river's edge. Here the woman led me to a wharf wliero a boat was in waiting for her. Wo entcrj ed it and were rowed for a mile or moro up tho stream till the boat halted at.a landing place beneath a high wall. LeavJ ing it, wo came to a door in the wall on which my companion knocked thrice. Presently a shutter in the woodwork was drawn, and a white face peeped through the grating and spoke. My companion i answered in a low voice, and after somo delay the door was opened, and I found myself in a large walled garden planted with orange trees. Then the abbess spoko i to mc. "I have led you to our house," she said. I "If you know where you are and what its ; name may be, for our own sake, I pray you, forget it when you leave these doors." I made no answer, but looked round in the dim and dewy garden. Here it was doubtless that De Garcia had met this unfortunate who must die | this night. A walk of a hundred paces j brought us to another door in the wall of a long, low building of Moorish style. J Here the knocking and the questioning were repeated at more length. Then tho door was opened, and I found myself in a passage, ill lighted, long and narrow, in i the depths of which I could see the figures of nuns flitting to niul fro like bats in a i tomb. The abbess walked down the pas 6age till she came to a door on the right, which she opened. It led into a cell, and I here she left me in the dark. For 10 minutes or more I staid there, a prey to j thoughts that I hud rather forget. At length the door opened again, and she i came in, followed l?y a tall priest whose face I could not sec, for lie was dressed in the white robe and hood of the Dominicans, that left nothing visible except his eyes. "Greeting, my son," he said when ho had scanned mc- for awhile. "The mother ; abbess has told mc of your errand. You j arc full young for such a task." "Were I old I should not love it better, j i father. You know the ease. I am asked ! to pro' ido a deadly drug for a certain ; merciful purpose. I have provided that drug, but I must be there to see that it is put to proper use." "You arc* very cautious, my son. The church is no murderess. This woman must die because her sin is flagrant, and of late such wickedness has liecome common. Therefore after much thought and i prayer and many searchings to find a ! means of mercy she is condemned to death i by those whose names are too high to bo j I 6poken. I, alas, am here to see the sen- | tence carried out with a certain mitigation which has been allowed by the mercy of j her chief judge. It seems that your pres i ence is needful to this act of love; there- j fore I suffer it. The mother abbess has warned you that evil dogs the foot of those i who reveal the secrets of the church. For j your own sake I pray you to lay that warning to heart." "I am no babbler, father, so the caution is not needed. One word more. This visit should be well feed; the medicine is costly." "Fear not, physician," the monk an- [ swered, with a note of scorn in his voice. ' "Name your sum; it shall be paid to you." j "I ask no money, father. Indeed I ' would pay much to l>e far away tonight, j | I ask only that I may lie allowed to spcrk ! *_I*V. *1.1 ! -1 lw.f..11.... >> una gin lAiuiu nuv uivo. ' What!" he said, starting. "Surelyyou are not that wicked man? If so, youaro bold indeed to risk the sharing of her fate." j "No, father, I am not that man. I ncv- ! er saw Isabella do Siguenza except once, j and I have never spoken to her. I am not i j the man who tricked her, but I know j him. He is named J nan de Garcia. 'Ah," ho suid quickly, "she would never 1 tell his real name, even under threat of j torture. Poor erring soul, she could bo j faithful in her unfaith. Of what would I you speak to her?" "I wish to ask her whither this man has gone. He is my enemy, and 1 would fol- ' low him lis I havo already followed him far. He lias done worse by me and mino than by this poor girl even. Grant my request, father, that I muy be able to work : my vengcanco on him, and with mine the church's also." "'Vengcanco is mine,' saitli the Lord. { "I will rep.-y.' Yet it may lie, son, that the Lord will chooso you as the instrument of his wrath. An opportunity shall j be given you to spook with her. Now put j on this dress"?and lie handed me a white j Dominican hood and robe?"and follow me." "First," I said, "let me give this medicine to the abbess, for I will have no hand in its administering. Take it, mother, and ; when tho time comes pour the contents of ' the vial into a cup of water. Then, hav- ( ing touched the mouth and tongue of tho bai?c with the fluid, give it to the mother to drink, and be sure that she docs drink | it. Before the bricks are built up about j them both will sleep sound, never to wako i again." 4JT ?ill -1 14. M mtimninwul tin) nKKnCU I X WI1X UU lb, luuimuicu viiv "Having absolution, I will be bold and do it for lovo and mercy's sake!" "Your heart is 600 soft, sister. Justice is mercy," said the monk, with a sigh. "Alas, for the frailty of the flesh that wars against the spirit!" Then I clothed myself in the ghastly ( looking dress, and they took lamps and , motioucd to mo to follow them. CHAPTER IX. THE PASSING OF ISADELLA I)E SIGUENZA. I Silently we went down the long passage, j i and as wo went I saw the eyes of the dwell- ' i ers in this living tomb watch us pass I 1 through tho gratings of their cell doors. ! i Little wonder that the woman about to dio I J had striven to escape from such a homo i back to the world of lifo and love! Yet for < that crimo sho must perish. Surely God i will remember the doings of such men as theso priests and tho nation that fosters i I them. And indeed he does remember, for < whero is the splendor of Spain today, and j I where are the cruel rites she gloried in? i Here in England their fetters arc broken 1 forever, and in striving to bind them fast i upon us free Englishmen she Is broken < also, never to be whole again. 1 i At tho far end of a passugo wo found a < stair, down which we passed. At its foot i was an iron bound door that tho monk tin- : locked nnd locked again upon the farther f B1UC. int'll UII11U Uiiutiivi nutlowed in the thickness of the wall, and a second door, and wo wero in the place of death. j It was a vault low and damp, and tho waters of the river washed Its outer wall, for I could hear their inurniurings in tho silence. Perhaps tho pluce may havo ! measured 10 paces in length by 8 broad. For tho rest its roof was supported by mass- | ivo columns, and on ono side there was a second door that led to a prison cell. At tho farther end of this gloomy den that was dimly lighted by torches and lamps | two men with hooded heads and draped in coarse black gowns were at work silently mixing lime that sent up a hot steam upon the stagnant air. By their sides were squares of dressed stone ranged neat- j ly against the end of tho vault, and before them was a nlcho cut in the thickness of 1 tho wall itself, shaped like a large coffin ! set upon its smaller end. In front of this J nicho was pluccd a massive chuir of chest- ' nutwood. I noticed also that two other 6 such coffin shaped niches had been cut in 1 c this same wall and filled in with similar 1 blocks of whitish stone. On tho face of \ each was a date graved in deep letters. J One had been scaled up some 30 years be- 1 1 fore and one hard upon a hundred. These men were the only occupants of i s the vault when wo entered it, but present- | t ly a sound of soft and solemn singing j f stole down the second passage. Then tho | i door was opened, tho mason monks ceased j laboring at the heap of lime, and the sound j of singing grew louder, so that I could , catch the refrain. It was that of a Latin t hvmn for the dying. Next through tho open door came the choir, eight veiled ' \ nuns walking two by two, and ranging ! s themselves on either side of the vault they 1 ceased their 6inging. After them follow- ] ed tho doomed woman, guarded by two t more nuns, and bust of all a priest bearing i ] a crucifix. This man wore a black robe, ) and his thin, half frenzied face was un- 1 covered. All these and other things I no- i ticcd and remembered, yet at the time it t seemed to me that I saw nothing except 1 the figure of the victim. 1 knew her again, s although I had seen her but once in tho ! a moonlight. She was changed indeed; her I lovely face was fuller, and the great, tor- f mentod eyes shone like stars against its a waxen pallor, relieved by the carmine of I her lips alone. Still it was the same faeo p that some months before I had seen lifted j in entreaty to her false lover. Now her s tall shape was wrapped about with gravo ; ' clothes, over which her bluek hair stream- ! r ed, and in her arms she bore a sleeping i babe that from time to time she pressed \ convulsively to her breast. ! t On the threshold of her tomb Isabella j c de Siguenza paused and looked round wild- I ly as though for help, scanning each of the I d 6ilcnt watchers to find a friend among i t them. Then her eye fell upon the niche, j a ond tho heap of smoking lime, and tho ' e men who guarded it, and she shuddered I d and would have fallen had not those who s attended her led her to the chair and plac- j b ed her in it?a living corpse. i fi Now tho dreadful rites began. The Do- ; n minican father stood before her and rcclt- ! a ed her oflfenso and the sentence which j I had l>een passed upon her,' which doomed | si her "to be left alone with God and tho I v child of your sin, that he may deal with : v you as he sees fit." [Lest such cruelty b should seem impossible and unprcccdent- j a ed, the writer may mention that in the uiu- j t 6cum of the city of Mexico he has seen tho 1( desiccated body of a young woman which u was found immured in tho walls of a roll- a gious building. With it is tho body of an , s infant. Although the exact cause of her | t execution remains a matter of conjecture, j I thero can be no doubt as to the manner i of her deuth, for in addition to other cvi- i t dcnccs the marks of tho rope with which ! I; her limbs were bound in life are distinct- p ly visible. Such in those days were tho | b mercies of religion!] j n To all of this she seemed to pay no heed | t nor to tho c? hortation that followed. At p length he ceased, with a sigh, and turning j 1) to me said: o "Draw nearer to this sinner, brother, t and speak with her before it is too late." f< Then ho bade all present gather them- t selves at the fur end of the vault that our e talk might not be overheard, and they did n so without wonder, thinking doubtless v that I was a monk sent to confess the c doomed woman. r So I drew near, with a beating heart, t and bending over her I spoke in her ear. p ''Listen to mo, Isabella de Siguenza!" I k said, and as I uttered tho name she start- t ed wildly. "Where is that Do Garcia who C deceived and deserted youf" \ "How have you learned his true name?" l she answered. "Not even torture would have wrung it from me, as you know." s "I am no monk, and I know nothing. I i am that man who fought with De Garcia ' i on tho night when you were taken, and . who would luivc killed him hod you not j seized me." "At the least I saved him?that is my j oomfort now I" "Isabella dc Siguenza," I said, "lam your friend, the best you ever had and tho last, as you shall learn presently. Tell mo j whero this man is, for thero Is that be- \ tween us which must lie settled." "If you are my friend, weary mo no more. I do not know where ho is. Months ago he went whither you will scarcely follow, to tho farther Indies, but you will never find him there." "It may be that I shall, and if it should j 6o chance, say, have you any mcssugo for this man?" j "None?yes, this: Tell him how we j iied, his child and his wife. Tell him that ! I did my best to hide his name from tho priests lest somo like fato should befall ! him." I "Is that all?" j "Yes?no, it is not all. Tell him that I j passed away loving and forgiving." ''My time is short," I said. "Awako ! e and listen." For having spoken thus sho j s seemed to l>e sinking into a lethargy. "l j was the assistant of that Andres do Fonscca whose counsel you put aside to your ruin, and I have given a certain drug to the abbess yonder. When she offers you the cup of water, see that you drink and drink deep, you and the child. If so, nono ! shall ever die more happily. Do you un- j derstand?" | l*Yes, yes," she gasped, ''and may bless- j ings rest upon you for the gift. Now I am | no more afraid, for I have long desired to j die?it was the way I feared." 1 "Then farewell, and God bo with you, unhappy woman." "Farewell," sho answered softly, "but call me not unhappy who am about to dio thus easily with that I love." And sho i glanced at the sleeping babe. Then I drew back and stood with bent head, speaking no word. Now the Dominican motioned to all to take the places where they stood before and asked her, "Erring sister, have you aught to say before you are silent forever!'" 1 '"Yes," she answered in a clear, sweet | voice that never even quavered, so bold ' had she become sinco sho learned that her death would bo swift and easy. "Yes, I 1 I "Erring sinter, have you aught to say before you arc silent forever/" have this to say?that I go to my end with i a clean heart, for if I have sinned it is i against custom and not against God. I broke the vows indeed, hut I was forced to take those vows, and therefore they did ; not bind. I was a woman born for light j and love, and yet I was thrust into the darkness of this cloister, there to wither j dead in life. And so I broke the vows, and I am glad that I have broken them, though | it has brought me to this. If I was do- ; jcivcd and my marriage is no marriage be- ; tore the law, as they tell me now, I knew i nothing of it; therefore to 1110 it is still j ralid and holy, and on my soul there rests no sin. At the least I have lived, and for 501110 few hours I have been wife and ' mother, and it is as well to die swiftly in ;liis cell that your mercy has prepared as more slowly in those nbove. And now for rou?I tell you that your wickedness ihall And you out, you who dare to say to Sod's children, Ye shall not love,'and o work murder 011 them because they will lot listen. It shall And you out, I say, ind not only you, but the church you servo. Both priest and church shall be broken together and shall be a scorn in the mouths if men to come." ''She is distraught," said the Dominium as a sigh of fear and wonder went ound the vault, "and blasphemes In her madness. Forget her words. Shrive her, I irothcr, swiftly, ero she adds to them." Then the black robed, keen eyed priest J same to her, and holding the cross beforo : lcr face began to mutter I know not what. But she arose from the chair and thrust ho crucifix aside. ''Peace!" she said. '"I will not be shriv- I n by such as you. I take my sins to God ' ind not to you?you who do murder in j ho name of Christ!" Tiic fanatic heard, and a fury took him. ! "Then go unshriven down to hell, you ; ," and ho named her by ill names nnd ! truck her iu tho face with the ivory cru- j iflx. The Dominican bade him cease his re- i rilings angrily enough, but Isubella do | Slguenza wiped her bruised brow and i aughed aloud a dreadful laugh to hear. I "Now I see that you arc a coward also," 1 ho said. ' Priest, this is my last prayer, j hat you may nlso perish at tho hands of anatics and more terribly than I die to- , light." Then they hurried her Into tho placo ircpared for her, nnd s>ho spoke again: "Give me to drink, for we thirst, my ! >abe and I!" Now I saw the abbess enter that passage vhence the victim had been led. Presently he came back bearing a cup of water in lcr hand and with it a loaf of bread, and ! knew by her mien that my draft was in lie water. But of what befell afterward [ cannot say certainly, for I prayed tho Dominican to open the door by which wo lad entered the vault, and passing through 11 stood dazed with horror at some disance. Awhile went by, I do not know iow long, till at length I saw tho abbess tanding beforo me, a lantern in her hand, ind she was sobbing bitterly. "All is done," she s-ud. "Nay, have no car, tho draft worked well. Before ever i stone was laid mother nnd child slept ound. Alas for her soul who died unro entant and unshriven!" "Alas for tho souls of all who havo harcd in this night's work," I answered. 'Now, mother, let mo hence, and may wo j tover meet again!" So soon as I could clear ray mind somovhat of all that I had seen and heard in hat dreadful vault I began to consider tho I ircumstances in which I found myself. First, however, I inquired secretly and Liligently as to the truth of tho statement hat De Garcia had sailed for the Indies, ,nd to be brief, having the clew, I discovred that two days after tho date of tho Lucl I hud fought with him a man anwering t> DeGurcia's description, though caring a different name, hod shipped rom Seville in a earak bound for the Caary islands, which earak was there to wait the arrival of tho fleet sailing for lispaniola. Indeed from various circumtances I had little doubt that the mun ras none other than Do Garcia himself, j rhich, although I had not thought of it efore, was not strange, seeing that then, ' s now, the Indies were the refuge of half ho desperadoes and villains who could no mger live in Spain. Thither then I made p my mind to follow him, consoling my- j L'lf a little by the thought that at least I houhl sec new and wonderful countries, j hough how new nnd wonderful they were did not guess. Now, it remained for mo to dispose of he wealth which had como to mo sudden>\ While I was wondering how I could lace it in safety till my return I heard y chance that the Adventuress of Dartmouth, the same ship in which I had come o Spain a year before, was again in tho ort of Cadiz, and I bethought me that tho est thing I could do with the gold and thcr articles of value would bo to ship hem to England, there to be held in trust ur me. So, having dispatched a message o my friend, the captain of the Adventurss, that I had freight of value for him, I made preparations to depart from Seville irith such speed as I might, and to this nd I sold my benefactor's house, with uany of the effects, at a price much l>clow i heir worth. The most of the books and j ilate, together with some other articles, I :cpt, and packing them in cases I caused hem to be transported down the river to j ,'adiz, to the care of those same agents to vhom I had received letters from the Yaruouth merchants. This bciiig done, I followed thither myelf, taking tho bulk of my fortune with no in gold, which I hid artfully in nuncrous packages. I came to Cadiz in safety and without oss of any of my goods or gold, and takng boat proceeded on board tho Advcnuress, where I found her captain, whose j lame was Dell, in good health and very dad to sec me. What pleased mc more, lowcver, was that lie had throe letters for ne, one from my father, one from my sis- j er Wary and one from my betrothed, Lily 3ozard, the only letter I ever received from ier. The contents of these writings were , lot altogether pleasing, however, for I earned from them that my father was in iroken health and almost bedridden, und j ndeed, though I did not know it for nany years after, he died in Ditchingham 1 Lurch udoii the very day I received his ettcr. It was short and sad, and in it ho aid lie sorrowed much that ho had allowed no to go upon my mission, since lie should ;ee nie no more and could only commend no to the care of the Almighty and pray lim for my safe return. As for Lily's Inter, which, hearing that the Adventuress vns to sail for Cadiz, she had found means o dispatch secretly, though it was not ;hort, it was sad also, and told me that so ;oon as my back was turned on home my ) rot her Geoffrey had asked her in mar- j iage from her father, and that they pushed lie matter strongly, so that her life was nude a misery to her, for my brother wayaid her everywhere, and her father did not :easo to revile her as an obstinate jade vlio would fling away her fortune for the ake of a penniless wanderer. "But," it went on, "be assured, sweetlcart, that unless they marry me by force, is they have threatened to do, I will not ludge from my promise. And, Thomas, | ihould I be thus wedded against my will I shall not be a wife for long, for though I ' mi strong I believe that I shall die of ihumc and sorrow. It is hard that I should j xi thus tormented, and for one reason | inly, that you are not rich. Still I have jood hope that things may better them- j elves, for I see that my brother Wilfred is j much inclined tower 1 yr-.:r sister Mary, uid though lie also urges this marriage on ue today she is a friend to both of us and nay lie in the way to make terms with lim before she accepts his suit." Then the writing ended with ninny tender words j and prayers for niy safe return. Now, all this news gave nic much eauso for thought. Mcanwliilo I did this: Going to a nota- i ry, I caused him to prepare a deeil which I translated into English. By this deed I vested all my fortune, except 200 pesos that I kept for'my own use, in three persons, to hold the same on my behalf till I i came to claim it. Theso three persons I ( were my old master, I)r. Grimstono ofBungay, whom I knew for the honestcst of men; my sister, MnryWlngflcld, and my i betrothed, Lily Bozard. I directed them 1 by this deed, which for greater validity I i signed upon the ship and caused to be wit- ! nesscd by Captain Bell and two other 1 Englishmen, to deal with the property according to their discretion, investing not less than half of it In the purchase of lands and putting the rest out to interest, which | . interest, with the rent of tho lands, was to | J bo paid to tho said Lily Bozard for her own use for so long as she remained unmarried. Also with the deed I executed a will by which I devised the rao6t of my property I to Lily Bozard, should sho bo unmarried at the dato of my death, and the residuo to my sister Mary. In the event of the 1 marriago or death of Lily, then the wholo was to pass to Mary and her heirs. 1 ] These two documents being signed and 1 ( scaled, I delivered them, i?ogcther with all my treasure and other goods, into the keep- , ing of Captain Bell, charging him solemn- j ly to hand them and my possessions to Dr. Grimstonc of Bungay, by whom ho would ' bo liberally rewarded. This ho promised > ' to do, though not until ho had urged mo j I almost with tears to accompany them my- ' i self. With the gold and deeds I sent several , letters, to my father, my sister, my brothcr, Dr. Grimstonc, Squire Bozard and lastly to Lily herself. In these letters I gavo i i an hccount of my life nnd fortunes sinco I 1 had come to Spain, for I gathered that I others which I had sent had never reached < England, and told them of my resolution j to follow Garcia to the ends of the earth. , "Others," I wroto to Lily, "may think | mo a mailman thus to postpono or per- i chance to loso a happiness which I deslro 1 above anything on earth, but you who un- ' dcrstand my heart will not blamo me, I however much you may grievo for my dc- i cision. I could never bo happy even at | your side if I abandoned my search now. ( First must come the toil and then the rest; first the sorrow nnd then the joy. Do not fear for me. I feel that I shnll live to re- 1 turn again, and if I do not return nt least 1 ? -1-1- A 1-1- * 1? I I 1 IUII UU1U IV pruviuv lur )UU HI autii kuau- - ion that you need never bo married against your will. While De Garcia lives I must j follow him." ! And here I may state that those letters and everything else that I sent came safely ! to Yarmouth. And now Lily wept?first for joy because of my good fortuno and then for sor- i row because I had not come with my treas- I ure, and when he had seen all and heard the deeds rend by virtue of which Lily was 1 a rich woman whether I lived or died the j squire, her father, sworo aloud and said that he had always thought well of me and , kissed his daughter, wishing her joy of lior luck. In short, all were pleased except my brother, who left the houso without a word : and straightway took to evil courses. But j all talked loudly of my madness bccauso I would not abandon tho chaso of my enemy, j but chose to follow him to the far Indies, , though Squiro Boznrd took comfort from > tho thought that whether I lived or died ' tho money was still his daughter's. Only Lily spoke up for me, saying: "Thomas has sworn an oath, and ho docs well to keep it, for his honor is at stake. Now I ge to wait until ho comes to mo in this world or the next." TO HE CONTINUED N KXT WKEK. THE KING AMUSES HIMSELF. Re Is Happiest When lie Thinks lie 11m Killed a I'cnsuiit Willi Ills Gun. The one insane monarch who now oc- j cupies a European throne, King Otho of Bavaria, shows no symptoms of reeov- j ering from his mental malady. I am i told that lie has lucid intervals, which j are very brief and occur but rarely, and ! it is as well, for these ileeting gleams of i reason only serve to make tho poor man i miserably unhappy, lor wnue mey nisi | ho realizes his own wretched condition i to the full. Everything is dono to amuse ! and interest him in his ordinary state, i which is that of hopeless as well as dan- ! gerous insanity. He spends his days in unceasing occupation of an insignificant and mechanical nature. At one time he worked from morning till night in rolling cigarettes. Then he rook to peeling potatoes, and bushels upon bushels of them were provided for his amusement. Of late his favorite pastime is by uo means of such an inoffensive nature. He has taken to shooting peas- j ants and will sit all day long with his gun at the window waiting for this new ! kind of game on which to exercise his skill. Even this freak his guardians have contrived to satisfy without injury to any one of his subjects. His gun is loaded in his presence, as he always insists upon seeing the powder and shot duly put in, but for the latter !iia attendant substitutes dry peas. Orders have been given that 110 person shall be allowed to pass along the road in front of his dwelling lest King Otlio ! f should fire upon him or her and bo ( driven quite wild by seeing his intended ( ( victim walk off unhurt. But at stated ; 1 intervals a man in a peasant's garb 1 makes his appearance on the road. The j j king takes aim and fires, and the man - 1 drops down to all appearance dead. The ! 1 supposed body is removed by two of the j 1 guards, and some hours later the per- j formance is repeated to the immense | i satisfaction of his majesty. ( The make believe peasant is a figurant j ?' from one of the minor theaters of Mu- i 1 nich. Generally ho simply drops on ! t hearing the shot and remains motion less, but occasionally he varies the per- j f formance by dying very hard, turning ! s round two or three times before ho falls j t and then expiring in terrific convulsions, 1 i a catastrophe that always greatly inter- j ) csts the royal maniac.?Paris Cor. Philu- I delpliia Telegraph. , i ! i ZTT" " ! t When the Major Was Dumb. | i The major and I had been talking of j 1 war for a couple of hours as we sat on s the veramla in the moonlight, when a t man came limping down the street, i i Just as we caught sight of him the ma- j jor was relating how lie charged against ; .? Hooker's forces at the battle of An tie- ] tarn, but he cut it so short off that I | turned to him and said: ( "Well, you had driven back the lines ) and were rushing after them when? ?. when" { "Say, major," called the new arrival ( as lie halted at the steps. "I reckon I'll j hev to see the doctor ag'in!" ( "Yes, go and see him,"replied the ma- ! ( jor. "I'm rather busy just now, Ben." i "I think another bonesplinter is work- j j in out on me," continued the man as ho ! s felt of his leg. " "Yes, perhaps so. Better see tlie doc- j ( tor in the morning. I'm engaged now. ! Ben." "Cur'us that it don't heal up, ain't it?" 1 queried the man as he felt his leg some { niorp. I "I'll see yo' in the morning, Ben," replied the major, who seemed to be un- | i ;m viiuis tnifi't riil uf tlu> 111:111 "Y-e-s. Say. major, that was a hot fight, and no mistake. Wo lost 1(5 men out of our company." "Yes?yes! I'll see yo' in about an hour." "An awful hot light. Yo' orter bin tlmr when we drove Ilooker hack through ' the cornfield." "I'm engaged just now. Ben." "But yo' wasn't tliar. I was thai- fur i yo', however?as a sub tituto?and whenever the battle of Antietam is men- J tioned yo' kin feel that 1 did my hull dooty. Good night, major." The major and I sat there for a long, i long time after that, but not a word was j spoken. V-ro did not even look at each other. We did not know that each oth- j er lived. By and by. when I wishing ! that I was at rest in the cold, damp grave, the major whisperiugly observed that he had an appointment to see a man about a mule and rose up and glided t awav?glided out into the quiet night, 1 and I never saw him again.?Chicago < Times. I IHiordliincous Reading. LETTER TO THE CHURCH. MISS ELLA I* A riDSOX WHITES OF IIEH U'OICK IX CHIXA. CHRISTIAN PROGRESS AMONG THE HEATHENS. By Teaching, Working and Prnying Among ' the Meek and Lowly, Many Benighted SiiuU nr?> Turned to the Way of Life. The following letter from Miss Ella 0. Davidson, formerly of Yorkville, but now a missionary in China, was read by ltev. W. (J. Neville to a greatly interested congregation in the Presbyterian church last Thursday after- ; noon : Shanghai, China, Aug. 20, 1894. Io the Members of the Yorkville Presbyterian ' Church: My Dkak Fhiknds?It gives me much pleasure to comply with Mr. Neville's request to write a letter to be read at the monthly meeting of "Prayer for Foreign Missions." Borne one has said, a true missionary ! society or church has missionaries at Dotli ennsoi ilie line. 1 quae agree wuu I ho statement, and I know what a great help and comfort it has ever been to me to remember how many mission- J iries there are at your end of the line. Paul may plant and A polios may wa- | Lcr, but we know God alone can give [lie increase; so while you give of j your means at one end of the line, ! md I give my time and strength at llie other, may we all pray most earn- ' ?stly that the Giver of all good may icknowledge our efforts and send ;reat and rich blessings to many perilling ones in China. It is a great ! privilege, is it not, that of praying and j working for others? It is a privilege that lifts us out of and above ourselves, md that is in itself Christlike. And then. tco, how often our efforts for jtliers bring a reflex blessing to our 3wn souls ! Is it not always so ? As I think of you all assembled for prayer, I can but remember the many I <eats that have been left vacant since [ last had the privilege of meeting with you. Yes, God has been busy ! gathering in the ripened grain. The ! young, the middle aged, and the old liave "gone on before," and many of jur hearts know what it is to have one I less tie binding us to earth, and one more binding us to heaven. Looking back upon the work of the three years that have elapsed since I iade you farewell, there is much I should like to tell you?many initnnccs of God's goodness and mercy ; :iut I shall confine myself to a few . vents of the past year that stand out prominently in my thoughts this aflernoon. First, there is a vision of a sick bed 11 our hoarding school last autumn, j where a little sufferer from meniugi- . is tossed to and fro for1 a day and a i an If, her brain burning up with fever, j Almost from the first, she was uncon- ' tcious; but after she had breathed her : ast, I went to my room and read a letter she had given me to translate j ind send to the friends in the United j States of America who supported her, { ind in this letter she told them her i treat desire was to be "Jesus's little j amb." I could but rejoice that he I tad taken the little lamb safely to j Himself in heaven. One day in the I spring, when I was talking with one of | lie girls who had asked to be received j nlo the church, I asked her what had i irst made her think of her soul's sal- ' ration, and she replied that it was this j irl's sickness and death. "A little diild shall lead them." ; Again, I have a vision of our sick ooni last autumn, and this time three j >f our own girls are lying low with yphus fever. One, the smallest child ; n school; one, a girl who had already ! irofesscd her faith in Christ and had ; isked to he received into the church ; ind the third a girl of 13 or 14, who, i we feared, had but little interest in ; spiritual things. The youngest was too nuch of a child to understand more ban that she was very uncomfortable; nit the other two fully understood I heir condition, and as I talked and irayed with them from day to day, it was indeed a cause for thanksgiving to >ee their perfect willingness to go if it were God's will to call them at that imo. Since then, the one who had brmerly asked to become a church nember has been received into the hurch; and the other one has asked o be received, and given much evilence that she has truly the grace of . 1 I 1 , .mo 111 hit iieuri. We have hud much sickness in school i his past year, and there is one more j ;ase, that ofLien-in, a clear little gil l )f 12 years, that I should like to tell rou of. She was very ill with pneu nonia for six weeks in the spring, and [ have never seen more perfect faith : n Christ, or a stronger belief in the >ower of prayer than she showed all luring her illness. She took her med- ; cine; hut it was always with the feel- ' ngthat without Christ's blessing, she muId get no benefit. It was to Him done that she looked for restoration. ; [ felt it a privilege to talk and pray I ,vith her from day to day, and I shall , lever forget the general rebuke she ;ave me one morning. There was mother little girl, quite ill at the time, itid 10 or 11 others sick with measles, md my thoughts were so occupied ,villi these, that as Licn-in seemed to i ic getting on well, I gave her her i nedicine as usual one morning, but ; icglected the customary talk and pray r. The following morning she was lot (piite so well, and when I entered ler room she looked up at me and j .aid in the gentlest?almost hurtones, "De Ku-nyang (Miss Davidson) ,'oti did not pray with me yesterday, ; md you see I am worse to-day." She showed such evidence of faith and ove during her illness and afterwards, hat when, about two months ago she I nine before the native session of our i itllechurch to ask for church-member- ! ;hij>, she was accepted at once. Only ' me or two persons have ever been ae- j sepled in this waj, as it is usually bought best, from one cause or anitber, to have the applicant wait for , wo or three months. I have told you these little incidents I lecause the amount of sickness in i icliool during the past year has been i 'renter than that of the preceding 10 >r 12 years taken together; and one night he tempted to think God's hand tad been heavy upon us. We see so ilainly though how He has given to lie gills and to us the richest spiritual dessings through these afllictions, that ve can but thank Him for them all. -'or the past half year there has been i spirit of player and of seeking after liglier things pervading our school hat has filled our hearts with joy. Ml the girls who can read suflieiently veil belong to the "Scripture Union," mil daily read the suggested passages. S*early all the older girls prefer to end privately ; hut my heart has been [ specially touched by 15 or 1(5 of the tills whose ages range from 12 to 1(5, 1 ill of whom have recently been received into the church, or else arc"cnquir- i rs,"and who have, of their own accord, brmcd the themselves into circles of i ive or six for prayer and for their laily Bible reading. They go in the ifternoons to a private room that we lave for them, read the appointed hapter, and then one of their number 1 earls in prayer. There are many otht incidents in the lives of of the girls luring the past year that I should like J o tell you of; but I cannot at this ; ime. I should especially like to speak if those who have completed their ime in school and have gone out into I the great world. Some of them, dur ing t he past year, were married t< Christian husbands; some have dom good work in women's hospitals ii Hangchow, Sooehow, and Shanghai and some have taught. Our great de sire is to see every one of our girls ai earnest faithful worker for Christ, am we trust that those who are already working for Him may become mor< and more zealous in his services. I an sure yoir will all unite with us in thii prayer. And now, to give you one instanci of the help, comfort and joy we sei Christianity bring to these poor dark ened souls, I shall ask you to go will Mrs. Stuart and myself as we went 0111 day during the last Chinese New Yea holidays to the home of one of ou Christians named Tse. And us we go I shall tell you something of the his tory of this, one of the happiest Chris tian families I know. Between five am six years ago the husband and father,; weaver by trade, was a slave to opium brought down by this, China's curse, l< the most abject poverty. I shall huv< to tell the story in a few words. H< heard the good news of salvation anc believed. Miss French gave him med ieine that helped him to overcome hi< thirst lor opium ; and being a really good weaver and naturally industrious he was soon able to get at least suffi cient food for his family. About tbre< years ago be was received into tin church and his wife was received i year later. God prospered him in his work, and sometime ago he was abb to leave the miserable but where w< lirst saw them and to come to a homepoor indeed, to Western eyes?bul from a Chinese point of view ver\ comfortable. The most noticeable facl about this husband and wife is tin great joy they find in Christianity. 1 have never seen them when they had not a bright, glad look in their eye? and something to tell of God's greal goodness to them. They have learned the sweet lesson of seeing God's hand in every little event in life, and of tak ing everything, health, food, clothing; etc., as blessings coming directly frotr Him. When we entered their home during the holidays, we were greeted by them in their usual huppv way The father was busy at his loom in one end of the room, and the mother, with her little ones around her, was sill ing near, busily sewing on the upper half oi a Chinese dress for the eldest child, 11 girl of !) years. They were in a high state of happy excitement over getting this little girl, Kyin-vong, ready to en ter our boarding school, the only preparation the making of this one new garment on which the mother was sewing. The child was delighted al the prospect of being with us, and the parents were so much pleased ti have her receive a Christian education - - -.1 .. U ~... 1 A .1-.., DU? fame lu u?f iinu iui nuuiit i\j iiuj: was as well and happy as could he Then she took measles with which r number of girls were sutiering, and ir a few days we found she had also taker pneumonia. Almost from the first, tin physician pronounced her critically ill and we sent at once for her father and mother. One rarely sees greater lov< for a child than they showed at this time. They insisted on taking hei home where they could nurse her, bul in a short while she became so ill thai they took her to the hospital of the Church of England missions in Hangchow, where her mother stayed and nursed her until the end. They had had no sorrow before since they had become Christians, and I wondered how this would a fleet them. And, oh ! whal a lesson I had in the joy Christianity brings! With eyes filled with tears but joy in their tones and faces, they told how they were looking forward tc the day when they would be with hei in glory. How different, how very different, their case from that of the heathen around them ! The Chinese love children, hut when a little one h taken from them their love for it is stifled by the belief that it was in reality a hated enemy who had come t( them in this form to steal their affec tions and thus torment them. We have had much encouragemeul in the work in Hangchow this pasl year. There have been more appli cants for church membership and more interested in studying the Bible than ever before. Will you not all pray for a great outpouring of the Spirit upon this, the oldest station ol our mission in China ? Perhaps you hear much of the wai between China and Japan. We art praying that if it can be in accordance with God's will, the termination may be quick and decisive ; and we trust that whatever the result, it may be for God's honor and glory. We dc not anticipate personal harm. The government assures us of protection and our only danger is from mob violence. You will See from the heading ol this letter that I am now in Shanghai I have not been very strong this spring, and the physician in Hangchow' said I had been a little overworked and that I needed complete rest and change during the hottest nart of the summer. I have been here now for three weeks, and am beginning to feel like a new person. So I hope to return to ITangchow much built Uf in health and strength for the work of another year. Trusting that I am ever remembered in your prayers, and that God's richest blessing may be upon you all, I am, your friend and co-worker, Ella C. Davidson. A CONFEDERATES JOKE. Story of an Adjouriiieiit of the CJoorglii Legislature. It is not often that an outsider, especially if this outsider he a citizen ol another State, can adjourn a session ol a legislature, yet this happened once when the legislature of the State ol Georgia was adjourned by a Tennesscean, says the Washington Post. II all happened in the fall of 1S(>4, during the civil war, just alter the battle of Franklin, Tenn. It will he remembered that the battle of Franklin was a most disastrous one to the Confederates, so far as loss ol men was concerned. Hood was in command of the Confederate forces, having recently succeeded General Johnston, and he was foolish enough to think that he could capture the Yankee forces when they were ensconced behind impregnable breastworks, The action of Hood and the criticism to which he had been subjected on account of his management of affairs during this'and other battles, is a part of history and has nothing to do with the story which Congressman McDeurinond, of the Ninth Tennessee district, was telling to a crowd ol friends. It was just after the battle ol < ' i .u 1' in II Kill), IJOWt'VlT, illlil lliu (.uiimuiate army was somewhat demoralized, none of them liking Hood as a commanding ollicer, when Congressman McDeannond, then a private in the rear rank, in company with "Ivnapp" Clillespie, of Humboldt, Tenn., was making his way to the army in North Carolina to join their command. On their way they passed through Georgia and chanced to stop in Milledgeville, then the capital of the State. The two Confederate soldiers were feeling pretty good, having on their rounds been fortunate enough to get hold of a good supply of ''mountain dew," when, strolling down the streets of Milledgeville, they stopped in front of a little church, and, learning from some passerby that the Georgia legislature was in session in the church, they walked in. The proceedings of the session were not of an exciting nature, at least not - I enough to interest men who had so 3 lately hcen stirred to action by the e trumpet's blare and the cannon's roar, i and after listening to the dull routine ; for half an hour, Lieutenant Gillespie, - emboldened by a goodly load of "mouni tain dew," rose from his seat and mov1 i ed that "the legislature do now adf journ." Some old member from a 3 back district promptly seconded the l i motion. "To what hour shall the ad3 ! journment be?" asked the chairman. "Till eight o'clock," replied Lieuten3 ant Gillespie, and the motion was put 3 and carried. After adjournment some of the meml hers got onto the joke, and McDear3 mond and Lieutenant Gillespie were r the heroes of the hour, and when they r left Millcdgevillc they had added con, j siderably to their supply of "mountain - ! dew." This is the only instance on - record where a legislature was ever i ; aujuumeu on motion ui uu uuisnn-r, 1 and Congressman McDearmon vouch, ! ed for the truth of the story. It may ) i he added that these were war times, 3 ! and since that time both McDearmon 3 and Gillespie have reformed all their 1 wicked ways. j s | ABOUT BLUE LAWS. Some of the Things That Made Life a Dreary Waste for Conneetlcut Yankees. 3 j The severe puritanic laws alleged to 3 ' have ex iled at New Haven, Conn., i ; and the adjacent parts were not laws, 5 | as a matter of fact, but a selection of ^ judicial decisions. These laws, enact! ed by the people of the "Dominion of I : New Haven," became known as the r | blue laws, because they were printed t j on blue paper. They were as follows : ' The governor and magistrates convened in general assembly are the I supreme power, under God, of the ini dependent dominion. From the deter' : initiation of the assembly no appeal ' ; shall he made. ' ; No one shall be a freeman or have a { vote unless he is converted and a memi her of one of the churches allowed in 1 j the dominion. ! j Each freeman shall swear by the blessed God to bear true allegiance to this dominion and that Jesus is the ou! j ly king. 1 i No dissenter from the essential wor'< j ship of this dominion shall be allowed f : to give a vote tor the electing of magis1 trates or any officer. 1 No food or lodging shall be offered to >' a heretic. * j No one shall cross a river on the ! Sabbath but authorized clergymen. No one shall travel, cook victuals, 1 j make beds, sweep houses, cut hair or ' i shave on the Sabbath day. 1 No one shall kiss his or her children ' on the ftaouatn or leasnng nays. | The Sabbath day shall begin at sun' set Saturday.. Whoever wears clothes trimmed with 1 ! gold, silver or bone lace above one 1 J shilling per yard, shall be presented by 1 | the grand jurors, and the selectmen i | shall tax the estate ?300 ($1,500.) ? , Whoever brings cards or dice into ' I the dominion shall pay a fine of ?5 5; (?5.) > No one shall eat mince pies, dance, j pluy cards or play any instrument pf k i music except the drum, trumpet or t ! jewsharp. 5 | No gospel minister shall join people ' in marriage. The magistrate may ' ] join them, as he may do it with less ' ! scandal to Christ's church. When parents refuse their children convenient marriages the magistrate ^ ! shall determine the point. ' | A man who strikes his wife shall be . fined ?10, ($50.) A wouiftu who strikes her husband ) j shall be punished as the law directs. No man shall court a maid in person ' : or by letter without obtaining the eou5 ! sent of her parents ; ?5 ($25) penalty - f' ?? < 1?a <5Afliinoo 1 A ffni* thn UM tilU 1IIOU UlU-IIOt- j .1wiv y 1VI IIIV ' ! second, and for the third imprisonment 5 j during the pleasure of the court. > INTERESTING FACTS AS TO CHINA. j We have been reading since boyhood ; ; of the Chinese wall and the walled t, j cities of the Celestial kingdom, but it ! is only recently that we ever got the ' j exact information we needed. Frank | Carpenter, a well-known newspaper k man, has been traveling in China, and f has written an interesting and in| struetivc letter to the Chicago Herald. . ; We have no space to copy it, for it is , I long, and must pick here and there a , few items that editied us. Nanking is , the biggest walled city in the world. It is more than 2,500 years old. It is , 200 miles from the seacoast. All of the , large cities are walled about. They , , range from 40 to 70 feet high and are : so thick two-horse wagons can haul [ j them abreast. The great Chinese wall is 1,500 miles long. There are 4,000 f walled cities and they have eaten up I vast sums of money. We have con\ densed in small space much he tells. . | We quote now from his letter. He . j says the "materials used are stone and , j large burnt bricks of a bluish gray ^ color. These bricks are each about 15 , I inches long, 5 inches wide and 3 inches , thick. They are put together in a | ! solid masonry in the shape of two , walls running parallel with each other, and the space between them is filled in j with earth and stones. This is stamped . j down, and upon its top a paved road. | way is made, upon which the guards walk and upon which in many places are old cannon, and near them piles of i stones ready to be thrown down upon the enemy. The length of these walls j is much greater than is necessary to inclose the cities. I have seen none i less than 10 miles long, and this wall of Nanking is 32 miles in length. The . i city of Nanking, which is bigger than St. Louis, occupies only a small part of f the inclosure." i i He estimates that a mile of wall F; costs more than a mile of railroad. He thinks there are fully 25,000 miles of ; j fortifications or enough to have covered the country with railways. They : Iiavc 111 mils uuisiuc aim kuiiii; ocii ; expand into lakes. The moat at Nanking is from 70 to 100 feet in width, i The present city is built upon the f ] ruins of another city that was far i larger than the present city, as outside , ruins show. There was a tower built I in honor of a ruler's wife in the long ago. It cost $0,000,000 and was built of porcelain, and nearly half as high as the Washington monument. It was blown down by another ruler. Mr. . Carpenter writes of it: "It was octagonal in form, with a base about half the size of that of the , ' monument, and this base rested on a i 1 foundation of brickwork ten feet high. It had nine stories, and a spiral stair case within the tower led the visitor ' to the summit. The top of it was a ' great basin of iron, and the colors of its brick were green, red, yellow and white. At every one of the nine stories a roof of green tiles jutted out, . and to the corners of these roofs were hung bells which tinkled when swayed by the wind. It took nineteen years ! to build this tower, and it was kept in good condition till about forty odd i years ago. Its every brick has since I disappeared and when I visited its site yesterday the only vestige of it j remaining was the great iron basinlike dome which crowned its top. I This has been placed upon a foundation of marble. It is a hollow mass of i miam An/Mwrli In r?rvtlio Inn nf llm I llUll Ulg V.HJUg.. IUX.UTV. lliu lvr V.X, ! largest haystack you have ever seen. . It would make a hath tub for an elephant. And it would to-day be called j a fine specimen of artistic casting. When it covered the tower it was i plated with gold, and could he seen j for miles up and down the Yangtse I valley.?Wilmington Messenger. DON' T BEGRUDGE PRAISE. Why is it that even with the nearest and dearest praise is so begrudged, while blame is always so freely be! stowed ? In nine cases out of ten the ' former does infinitely more good and I incites to fur greater exertion than the j latter. Nevertheless, as a rule, the i fondest* parent, the kindest teacher, the most faithful friend, often hesitates to praise, while seldom failing to censure when the occasion calls for it. There is ever the feeling latent that the recipient will be unduly elated by any approbation bestowed ; and parents and teachers sometimes hesitate on that account to express unstinted commendation, wnuc nromers ana ! sisters, and even friends, often at heart really begrudge the satisfaction and perhaps self-complacency they might | evoke by giving expression to the admiration they may honestly feel. I While flattery is ever profuse and I easy to obtain, honest praise is a rare I commodity, seldom given even when most deserved, and grudgingly withheld when most needed. How often a child feels "there is no use trying," simply because his feeble efforts for the right obtain no recognition, while his faults are constantly recapitulated. How often the weak endeavors of a selfish nature to "give up" pass un, noticed, while the original sin is constantly commented upon ! Many a puny plant has died for the want of kindly nourishment (hat might have grown strong and vigorous under : favorable conditions, and it is sad to j think that in many a careful house; hold, where children are apparently ! brought up under the best auspices, ; the germs of better things constantly wither away for the lack of the sunI shine of loving praise and commends! tion. Gave Himself Away.?The best j way to meet an impostor is to treat him to some of his own medicine, as | the man did who made the beggar ' give himself away. A beggar accosted a gentleman, and j whined, "I'm paralyzed in both my : 'amis and can't work, for I can't grasp 1 anything with 'em. Could ver spare I me a trifle, maister?" "I'm deaf," replied the gentleman ; ; you u neucr wrue uown wnai you j luive to say. "Here's a pencil and a piece of paper." "Deaf, is 'e!" thought tlie beggar. ! "then he didn't 'ear about my paraly' sis." So he wrote down, "I've got a wife an' six children starvin' at 'omc, mister. I've been out o' work fer six murvths, an' ham in a drefTuI state o' destertushun." He handed the paper to the gentleman, who read it, and said, "I thought you said you were paralyzed in both hands and couldn't write!" "Did?didn't ycr say yer was deaf?" stammered the beggar, who now really did feel paralyzed. "Yes?just to find out if you were an impostor, which you are, as I suspected," replied the gentleman. "Well, of all the bloomin' frauds, ye're the biggist!" exclaimed the beggar. "The hidea ofyersayin' yer was deaf, and tryin' to impose on a pore feller !" and he shuffled off sniffing the air with righteous indignation.?N. Y. Herald. A Titled Engineer's Coolness.? j The Earl of Rosse, a mechanical enI gineer of no mean order, the other [ day entered the engine-room ofa large j manufactory and gazed carelessly at j the working of the machinery. SudJ denly he was "seen to shake his head, j pull his watch out, and to look first I at the engineer and then at his timepiece. The engineer's attention had been attracted by this somewhat odd behavior of the stranger, and apostrophized him in a rude and I aggressive manner with a "Well, j what's up now? What is it that you ! have got to find fault with, anyhow?" "Oh," replied Lord Rosse, "it's all the same to me ; I've got no fault to find. I'm just waiting till the boiler explodes." "The boiler explodes ! Why, you ! are crazy, man 1" exclimed the engiI ueer, angrily, preparing to turn the peer out as a dangerous crank. "Well," retorted the earle, "if you work 10 minutes longer with that loose screw there, the boiler will certainly explode." The engineer, gazing in the direction i indicated by Lord Rosse, paled, and jumped to stop the engine. "Why, the devil didn't you say so ! sooner?" he blurted out. j "Why should I? .I have never yet had the opportunity of seeing a boiler explode." A Remarkably Fine Nose.?A 1 good story is told of a well-known ac! tor who, in a piece he was playing "on . tour," had to "make up" his nose to ! rather large proportions. He gener' ally used a special paste for this pur! pose ; but at one place falling short of paste, he sent a boy out to buy some I flour. He used this in the form of ' stiff dough, painted it to suit his purpose, and went on to the stage in due course. Presently the nose began to | grow and swell. I Seizing a moment when he was not needed behind the footlights, the actor rushed to his dressing-room, tore off the superfluity of nose, again "made up" the rest, and returned to the stage. But still the nose grew, and it was not until the play ended that the victim had leisure to read the inscription on the paper in which the material for his marvelous nose had been brought to him. Then for the first time he saw the words: | "Self-raising flour. Requires no yeast or baking powder. Mix with a little cold water and set in a warm place, and in a short time the dough will rise and be ready for baking !"? Free Press. Canon Bowles and the Maid.? Canon Bowles became very absentminded and nervous in bis later years, and was always singularly alarmed by thunder and lightning. When a widower he was once the guest of Lady Lansdowne, when a terrific storm came on shortly after the guest had retired for the night. Lady Lansdowne, was , startled by hearing his bell ringing violently while she was undressing, and she at once sent her own maid to see what was wrong. After tapping at the door, the young woman was admitted, and said : "Mr. Bowles, her ladyship has sent me to see what is the matter. Is there anything I can do for you, sir?" "Oh, yes," said the old gentleman, in a state of abject terror; "I'll give i you a guinea if you'll stop here and sleep in the room." The maid went back laughing to her mistress, to whom she told what occurred, and at breakfast the next mornj ing Lady Lansdowne chaffed the good canon unmercifully, to the amusement I of every one present. Wanted?In 100,000 households in America, a willing, sunshiny daughter, who will not fret when asked to wipe the dishes, or sigh when asked to take the baby ; a daughter whose chief delight it is to smooth away mother's wrinkles, and is quite as willing to lighten her father's cares as his pocket; a girl who thinks her own brother quite as fine a fellow as some other girl's brother. Constant love, high esteem, and a most honored place in the home guaranteed. The same kind of hoys i arc wanted.