Decatur Democrat, Volume 38, Number 44, Decatur, Adams County, 18 January 1895 — Page 8

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CHAPTER XL OUTSIDE A FISHMONGER’S WINDOW. •In London, if folks ill-together are put, A bore may bo dropt. or a quiz may be cut, We change without end; and if lazy, or 111, AU wants are at hand, and all wishes at will. A few days after this, as Bel'enden was strolling' un Bond street at an early hour -for he was an earlier man now than he had been wont to be - he saw coming toward him Geraldine and Miss Corunna on the same side of the pavement. . . . , Who the latter mie;ht be he knew not; but he took off his hat, and half paused, as hopii g that something more than a mere bow might be forthcoming from the light figure nearest to him. Nothing was. The ladies passed on; and their appearance, or rather Geraldine’s, having awakened afiesh a train of thougnt becoming rap dly familiar to his ireast, he stood still for a moment, absenty ga ing into a favorite shop window, without, on this occasion, seeing what it contained. The shop was Grove's, well known to all lovers of angling, and it was never passed by Bellenden without a thorough survey of its cool, fresh, shining, tempting contents. His footsteps < eased accordingly of themselves, and he was to all appearances completely engrossed, when, just as he was turning to proceed, Miss Campbell came tripping back, and alone. t>he had dropped her companion at the Grosvenor Gallery, and was hurrying home in time to make ready for her ride. Bellenden couldJiardly have avoided the meeting had he wished to do so, and. as it was, he looked her full in the face, and the look was such as could not be ignored. For there was something sad, affronted, almost piteous in it; and merciless and wholehearted as the young girl felt, she could not pass on without impropriety. It was the first time she had ever seen any man look at her like that. On the Sunday Bellenden had been hole to cause anything beyond a faint twinge of t mortification.. How soulgatisfying it would be if it should now prove that she had really the capacity to do morel “I was thinking of yoi just now,” said he, looking down upon her. He could still look down upon her, tall as she had grown. “Well, yes. I passed a minute ago,” replied Geraldine, promptly. “I suppose you are studying this fishmonger s window? Every one does, I think. I can never pass it by myseif if I have a moment to spare —which I have not today,” she was about to add, when he interrupted her. “They remind me,’ he said, “of the waiting bank at Inchmarew.” ‘ Which? The cod? Or tne turbot? Or the lobsters.-” cried Geraldine, merrily. “surely you forget. We had done of these at Inchmarew. We have only common things there; but, of course, voi have forgotten ” “I have forgotten nothing.” “No, really.- Hat 1 must run, or they will think I have forgotten ■ what o’clock it is. I am to ride with my cousin,, and I only just took a moment to see my old governess off on a picture hunt ” „ "Was that your old governess?” said Bellenden, with still the same dangerously retrospective tone: “I—l should have looked at her with much greater Interest had I known. ’ Whereat Geraldine-all credit to her—stared at him? Stared, as blankly and magnificently as though she had been born and bred in Belgravia. What on earth did he mean? the stare demanded. What was he thinking o/? The man must have gone era y. “Good-bye,” she said the next moment, r.o further comment seeming to be needed. ‘ Good bye,” and away she stepped as light as a feather, looking prettier and friskier than ever in her dainty summer roe, with her little white sunshade bobbing overhead. As long as she was within s'ght, even though her back was towards him, she kept up the smile and a trace of the s are-b t once within doors, and withjn her own room, the s ene changed. “You would, you hypocrite?'* blazed forth the little vixen in sudden fury, “youwiuld? And you think to make me now believe—you dare almost openly to insinuate that you have kept up your interest in in me through all these years? These years during which you have never vouchsafed one of us a word or thouuht? You would like to begin it all over again, would you not? You would getme alone, and whis. er vour soft pleasant tilings, and I rin r me gilts, and tell me to remember you by them, and draw me on to be so fooishandso hateful, that I cannot think of it now, now, without a cringe, within myself. No. sir-not again. Not a second time, Sir Frederick Bellenden. I think lam a match for you now. Wbat is more, you shall have to own it. I’ll not avoid him'; oh, dear, no. I’ll speak to him dance with him; ride with him; almost-all but flirt with him. I’ll. ust not flirt with him, because granny would not like it. But if he ever tries again to be sentimenta', or to make allusions and give hints, as he did just now, let him beware! He does not yet know little Jerry of Inchmarew. ” The next thing was Jerry's firslpball, and a famo s ball she had of it. ■ Os course she could have had almost any partners she chose; for tile fame of her had begun to be whispered, and the fashionable, world was on the alert about the pre cty heiress. Every one was Miring his neighbor about her - ■ .... - ■ ' ;

comings and goings, the genuineness of her charms, ana the extent of her rent roll. Old and young,alike thought that an introduction, even if it went no further, could ao no harm. Lady Raymond somewhat sourly warned her mother of the necessity of being careful. are so outrageous,” she declared. “Really one is ashamed of one’s fellows nowadays. Directly a girl with money appears upon the scene, the men swarm after her like a hive of bees. And a fine, unencumbered estate like Inchmarew is not in the market every day. Fray be particular as to whose acquaintance you permit.” It aid just occur to Mrs. Campbell that her daughter might have been some attraction for the bees save in the fine, unencumbered estate, and thatshespoke with some acerbity when she described Geraldine as * a g’rl with money.” IVmade her bridle up, and cut Charlotte somewhat shprt in her next remark, so that Raymond feared afterwards tfeat ,sne had not on the whole done quitb'so well as she had expected. She had meant to suggest that application >as to the character and tenets held by the bees in question should be made by her mother to her son, and that Cecil alone should furnish the password to granny s good graces; but she was obliged to be satisfied with vaguely hinting at what s~e had intended putting into good round terms. As for Cecil hinrelf, he was perfectly satisfied with tne situation as it stood. In the double character of his grandmother’s aide-de camp, and Geraldine s instructor and companion, he went about with the ladies everywhere; and on the occasion of the ball in quest on, had the honor of presenting his cousin with her boa piet, of facing her in the carriage and of following..,her up the broad, red-carpeted steps into the fes tive halls. The scene that here met her eyes was as new as all the rest had been to the little Highlander; but, true to herself, she now walked demurely through tee banks of flower and shrub, and between the long lines of silvery lamps, looking neither to right no to left lest Cecil should see aught amissin her deportment. They were rather late, and dancing had begun. Truth compels us to state that Geraldine was not a good dancer. All the running and climbing in the world will not teach the swing of the waltz without some pains being taken in its accomplishment; and, accordingly, al- ! though partners were rife, as we have | said, they speedily discovered that the ' pretty heiress did not care to be—lnnacShe had never done anything of the kind, and never seen anything of the kind before. ——— — To be sitting or standing outside a London ball room, amidst a crowd 01 ball-goers, in her brilliant ball-bress, on a warm, sweet-scented summer ! night, while the music went tinkling on withip the vast saloons, and the dancers went circling round, and soft voices and laughter and light patterI ing feet filled the air on every side-it was like fairyland. She wondered if all the girls there were having as good a time as she. Some of them looked at her rather hard, she thought; and so, for that matter, did the men. What was it they saw? With all her shrewdness and her ini born share of native self-importance.it did not occur to her that they were saying. ‘That is Miss Campbell. That is the great S otch heiress,’ and that, thereupon, some fell a musing, and some to picking her to pieces. "My dear, you must positively stick a little closer to your grandmother, or to me ’’her Aunt Charlotte admonished her somewhat sharply at last. “Do as your cousins do. Ethel and Alicia are always coming t ackwards and forwards to us' they show they are unde r our charge by staying with us when they are not dancing.” I * But I have been engaged for every dance,” “Where then have you been? You have not been in the ball-room. ” "outside. On the balcony—” began ' Geraldine, but could proceed no further. "That does not do, my dear; it does —not—do,” irowned her aunt, with a terrific whisper. “I though you wou d have known better. Ethel and Alicia never go out on the balconies —never. I ought to have told you. Cecil ought to have told you ” “Why, I have just been there with Cecil.’ said jerry, opening her eyes. “Oh 9 ” and Lady Raymond wished she had held her tongue. “Oh?—Oh? —Oh?—” she said, not knowing what I else to say. “Well, of course, my dear, of course, that—ahem!—makes a difference, to be sure,” Tn an entirely altered tone, “to be sure that—ahem! — completely alters the case. It is only my anxiety that you should he the I same as one of my own daughters, you ; know, Geraldine; and, no doubt, Cecil j —Cecil, no doubt—” floundering on, *T I dare say he took care as to whom you were with,” concluded, tamely. “He introduced nearly all of them.” The next moment, however, brought a new introduction. 1 Geraldine, my love.” said her grandmothers voice, “General Dacre wishes to know you. j He was a friend of your poor father’s,” added she, lower, “he asked of himself to be presented;” and there stood a fine, soldierly-looking map, with crisp, gray hair, a thick, gray moustache, an aquiline nose, ana a magnifl-' I cent star of diamonds on his breast. ' Jerry had never felt prouder in her : life. j A general with a star, at whom, for all her eighteen summers, she would only have ventured to gaze in humble admiration, had he not himself solicited j a nearer acquaintance! She did indeed feel honored, as she took his arm, and moved about here and there, fancying all aiound must gaze at the pair with wonder and with envy. This fine old warrior, whose notice bad been felt to confer such distinction, and for whom she had been racking her brains to find tobies not too i frivolous and foolish, proved to be neither more nor less than a flighty i old fool, anxious still to play his part

among the dandies of the day, and In consequence, to be seen in attendance on any pretty girl who was the mode. That the reigning bell of the evening chanced to be the daughter of an old friend dead and gone, was a piece of luck not to be thrown away; but having made a stepping-stone of the fact, he had not had her ear many minutes ere he had thrown it aside. He had no notion of being longer looked upon in the light in which he had first presented himself, and, indeed, soon began to twaddle so foolishly and so flippantly, that tne poor child, disgusted and ashamed, begged to be taken back to her chaperon, with a peremptoriness which admitted of no denial. She was very short and reserved with her next partner, an elegant youth, who forthwith began the usuai prattle about Ascot Sandown, Hurlingham, and the like, to which she was now becoming accustomed. She would make ouick work of him, Jerry thought; and with the tip of her pretty nose in the air, she all at once volunteered a piece of information which she had not hitherto been eager to impart. “I know nothing of these places,” she said. “I am just come up. My home is in the Highlands of Scotland.” Wonder of wonders, the effect was precisely contrary to that expected. The Highlands oi Scotland? The Scottish Highlands were his Parauise, his Elysium. His whole face lighted upat the mere mention of their name. He was a Lorn Highlander nimself, born and bred within the wilds of Lochaber. Os eburso he had known that Miss Campbell must be Scotch, probably from'Argyllshire-with a smile—b t he did not know, he did not tnink, he thought girls cared for nothing but London, and -and - but did she really

care for the heather, and the sea, ana the tartan, and the pipes? He was learning the pipes himself. He belonged to a Highland regiment, and he was learning from his own pipe-ma.or, the finest pipe-ma.or in the service. The pipe-major had composed a “qui kstey” and a “Hornpipe,’’ and was to play one or other of them, he was noi sure.which, at the Northern Meeting t. at autumn. Did Miss Campbell ever go to the Northern Meeting? No? Well, he could not say he cared for it very much himself, it was getting so awfully big and cockneyfied. Still, he should go, as their pipe-major was to compete —and so on, ana so on.. Never had he a more appreciative listener. There was a true ring in the lad's school-boy enthusiasm which delighted and exhiliarated Geraldine.and which came like a breath of fresh air after the false, artificial vapors which before had been supposed to be her proper atmosphere. It was not, moreover, lost upon her that she had been twice misled within one short half-hour; so granny was not wrong in thinking experience was gained, to which, we may here add, r a,. mrnea round and accepted them, even had he wished—for none were sent him. Neither did he so wish; he only disliked to hear young Haymond incessantly reverting to things that had happened the night before, or tne night before that, whenever it happened—and it happened pretty often—that he was in company with the two cousins. He met them on most mornings in the Row, pretty often in the afternoons, too, at one place or another —(perhaps he noted where they were going)—and now and then in Mo nt street. Not by themselves, of course; but what was grandmother, or ex-gov-erness or cousin? Only some one standing by for propriety’*) sake, some one, too, sure to be engrossed with the pictures, or the music’or the treasures, or whatever it wasthatGeraldine had, .by the way, gone to see, but which Bellenden very much doubted whether she ever did see. She never looked at them after he was there, at any rate. She did not look at him much, neither. Her eyes, her ears, her Questions and answers were for Cecil- or so it seemed to Cecil’s rival. Still Bellenden waited. There were times—solitary moments—when he did not feel quite so sure about this as he might have been. . He had sometimes been himself shot a glance, a flash of the eye, a furtive, swiftly-withdrawn, searching home-thrusting look, which puzzled him; [TO BE CONTINUED.] The Bud of a Duchess. Mme. d’Abrantes did not seek her hero Napoleon on his brief return from exile. Such a meeting would have been trying even to her “rare mental flexibility.” She was in Rome during the Hundred Days, “surrounded,’’ according to the Nouvelle Biographic Generale, “by artistic and literary friends.” Few and meagre are the particulars which can now be gleaned of her later years; there are hardly any materials for bridging the gulf between the Parisian Queen of society and the broken-down wreck of Chorley’s lurid sketch. <The revolution of 1830 found her at the Abbaye-aux-Bois, whither the total loss of her fortune compelled her to retire. She says that on the reappearance of the tri-color she was “saisie d’une de ces joies sans mesure qui revelent le ciel,” but it in no way alleviated her melancholy fate. From 1831 to 1835 her memoirs were in course of publication. She wrote some other books and many stories and papers, some of which appeared in The Revue de Paris. Mme. d’Abrantes, reduced to utter destitution, died at, Chaillot on June 7, 1839; two days after being admitted to a small hospital, having been refused shelter in one of more pretensions without payment in advance. “Abandoned by all whom she loved,” (which would seem to imply that her children had forsaken her,) “but receiving the last consolations of religion from the hands of the Archbishop of Paris.”—Temple Bar. Mudie’s Library. Mudie’s circulating library in Lorr don, has 3,5000,000 books constantly in circulation and employs 178 people. Forty years ago its circulation reached 100, which caused a sensation, ,

TALMAGE’S SERMON. WORK OF CHRISTIAN MISSIONARIES IN CEYLON. Nature’s Luxuriance Adds Weight to the Belief that It la the Site of the Garden of Kden—Christianity Must Triumph Over Hindoo Superstition. The Isle of Palms. In continuing his series of round the world sermons through the press Rev. Dr. Talmage has this week chosen for his subject “Ceylon, the Isle of Palms,” the text selected being, “The ships of Tarshish first” (Isaiah lx., 9). The Tarshish of my text by many commentators is supposed to be the island of Ceylon, upon which the seventh sermon of the round the world series lands ns. Ceylon was called by the Romans Taprobane. John Milton called it “Golden Chersonese." Moderns have called Ceylon “the isle of palms,” “the isle of flowers,” “the pearl drop on the brow of India,” “ the show place of the universe,” “the land of hyacinth and ruby.” In my eyes for scenery it appeared to be a mixture of Yosemite and Yellowstone park. All Christian people want to know more of Ceylon, for they have a long while been contributing for its evangelization. As our ship from Australia approached this island there hovered over it clouds thick and black as the superstitions which have hovered here for centuries, but the morning sun was breaking through like the gospel light which is to scatter the last cloud of moral gloom. The sea lay along the coast calm as the eternal purposes of God toward all islands and continents. We swing into the harbor of Colombo, which is made by a breakwater built at vast expense. As we floated into it the water is black with boats of all sizes and manned by people of all colors, but chiefly Tamils and Cingalese. There are two things I want most to see on this island—a heathen temple, with its devotees in idolatrous worship ana au audience of Cingalese addressed by a Christian missionary. The entomologist may have his capture of brilliant insects, and the sportsman his tent adorned with antler of red deer and tooth of wild boar, nnd the painter his portfolio of gorge 3,000 feet down and of days dying on evening pillows of purple cloud etched with fire, and the botanist his camp full of orchids and crowfoots and gentians and valerian and lotus. I want most to find out the moral and religious triumphs—how many wounds have been healed, how many sorrows comforted, how many entombed nations resurrected. Sir William Baker, the famous explorer and geographer, dia well for Ceylon after his eight years residence in this island, and Professor Heckel, the professor from Jena, did well when he swept these waters and rummaged these bills and tonk borne heroes and heroines for Christ s sake. Site of Paradise. Many scholars have supposed that this island of Ceylon was the original garden of Eden where the snake first appeared on reptilian mission. There are reasons for belief that this was the site where the first homestead was opened and destroyed. It is so near the equator that there are not more than 12 degrees of Fahrenheit difference all the year round. Perpetual foliage, perpetual fruit, and nil styles of animal life prosper. What luxuriance and abundance and superabundance of life! What styles of plumage do not the birds sport! What styles of scale do not the fishes reveal! What styles of song do not the groves have in their libretto! Here on the roadside and clear out on the beach of the sea stands the cocoanut tree, saying: “Take my leaves for shade. Take the juice of my fruit for delectable drink. Take my saccharine for sugar. Take my fiber for the cordage of yonr ships. Take my oil to kindle your lamps. Take my wood*to fashion your cups and pitchers. Take my leaves to thatch your roofs. Take my smooth surface on which to print your books. Take my 30,000,000 trees covering 500,000 acres, and with the exportation enrich the world. I will wave in yous fans and spread abroad in your umbrellas. I will vibrate in your musical instruments. I will be the scruli in brushes on your floors.” Here also stands the palm tree, saying: “I am at your disposal. With these arms I fed your ancestors 150 years ago, and with these same arms I will feed your descendants 150 years from now. I defy the centuries.” Here also stands the nut<atg tree,- saying: “I nm ready to spice your beverages and enrich your puddings, and with my sweet dust make insipid things palatable." Here al»o stands the coffee plant, saying: “With the liquid boiled from my berry I stimulate the nations morning by morning.” Here stands the tea plant, saying: “With the liquid boiled from my leaf I soothe the world’s nerves and stimulate the world’s conversation evening by evening.” Here stands the cinchona, saying: “I am the foe of malaria. In all climates my bitterness is the slaughter of fevers.” What miracles of productiveness on these islands! Enough sugar to sweeten all the World’s beverages. Enough bananas to pile all the world's fruit baskets. Enough rice to mix all the world’s puddings. Enough cocoannt to powder all the world's cakes. Enough flowers to garland all the world’s beauty. Nature’s •Incense. Blit in the evening, riding through a cinnamon grove, I first tasted the leaves and bark of that condiment so valuable and delicate that, transported on ships, the aroma Os the cinnamon is dispelled if placed near a rival bark. Os such great value is the cinnamon shrub that years ago those who injured it in Oeylon were put to death. But that which once was a jungle of cinnamon is now a park of gentlemen’s The long, white dwelling houses are bounded with this shrub, and all other styles of growth congregated there make a botanical garden. Doves called cinnamon doves hop among the branched, and crows, more poetically styled ravens, which never could sing, but think they can, fly across the road giving full test of their vocables. Birds which learned their chanting under the very eaves o? heaven overpower all with their grand march of. the tropics, The hibiscus dapples the scene with its scarlet clusters. All shades of brown and emerald and saffron and brilliance; melons, limes, magnosteens, custard apples, gua ▼as, pineapples, jasmine so laden with aroma they - have to bold fast so the wall,

and begonias, gloriosas on fire and orchids so delicate other lands must keep them under conservatory, but hero defiant of all weather, and flowers more or less akin to azaleas, anti honeysuckles and floxes and fuchsias and chrysanthemums and rhododendrons nnd foxgloves and pansies, which dye the plains and mountains of Ceylon with heaven. The evening hours burns incense of nil styles of aromatics. The convolvulus, blue as if the sky had fallen, and butterflies spangling the air, arms of trees sleeved with blossoms, and rocks upholstered of moss, commingling sounds and sights and odors until eye and ear and nostril vie with each other as to which sense shall open the door to the most enchantment. A struggle between music nnd perfume and iridescence. Oleanders reeling In intoxication of color. Great banyan trees that have been changing their mind for centuries, each century carrying out a new plan of growth, attracted our attention nnd saw us pass the year of 1894 ns they saw the generations of 1794 and 1094. Colombo is so thoroughly embowered in foliage that if you go into one of its towers and look down upon the city of 130,000 people you cannot see a house. Oh. the trees of Ceylon! May you live to behold the morning climbing down through their branches or the evening tipping their leaves with amber and gold! I forgive the Buddhist for the worship of trees until they know oLihe God who made the trees. I wonder not that there are some trees in Ceylon called sacred. To me all trees are sacred. I wonder not that before one of them they burn camphor flowers, and hang lamps around its branches, and 100,000 people each year make pilgrimage to that tree. Worship something man must, and, until he hear of the only being worthy of worship, what so elevating as a tree! What glory inthroned amid its foliage! What a majestic doxology spreads out in its branches! What a voice when the tempests pass through it! How it looks down upon the cradle and the grave of centuries! As the fruit of one tree unlawfully eaten struck the race with woe, and the uplifting of another tree brings peace to the soul, let the woodman spare the tree, and all nations honor it, if, through higher teaching, we do not, like the Ceylonese, worship it! How consolatory that when we no more walk under the tree branches on earth we may see the “tree of life which bears twelve manner of fruit, and yields her fruit every month, and the leaves of the tree are for the healing of the nations!” A Cingalese Ceremonial. Two processions I saw in Ceylon within one hour, the first led by a Hindoo priest, a huge pot of flowers on his head, his face disfigured with holy lacerations aiid his unwashed followers beating as many discords from what are supposed to be musical instruments as at one time can be induced to enter the human ear. The procession halted at the door of the huts. The occupants came vw.de, hxwie ashes, more genuflection. However keen one’s sense of the ludicrous, he could find nothing to excite even a smile in the movements of such a procession—meaningless, oppressive, squalid, filthy, sad. Returning to our carriage, we rode on for a few moments, and we came on another procession, a kindly lady leading groups of native children, all clean, bright, happy, laughing. They were a Christian school out for exercise. There seemed as much intelligence, refinement and happiness in that regiment of young Cingalese as you would find in the ranks of any young ladies’ seminary being chaperoned on their afternoon walk through Central Park, New York, or Hyde Park, London. The Hindoo procession illustrated on a small scale something of what Hindooism can do for the world. The Christian procession illustrated on a small scale something of what Christianity can do for the world. But those two processions were only fragnfents of two great processions ever marching across our world—the procession blasted of superstition and the procession blessed of gospel light. I saw them in one afternoon in Ceylon. They are to be seen in all nations. American Missionaries. Nothing is of more thrilling interest than the Christian achievements in this land. The Episcopal Church was here the national church, but disestablishment has taken place, and since Mr. Gladstone’s accomplishment of that fact in 1880 all denominations are on equal platform, and all are doing mighty work. America is second to no other nation in what has been done for Ceylon. Since 1816 she has had her religious agents in the Jaffna peninsula of Ceylon. The Spauldings, the Howlands, the Drs. Poor, the Saunders, and others just’ as good and strong have been fighting back monsters of superstition and cruelty greater than afiy that ever swung the tusk or roared in the jungles. The American missionaries in Ceylon have given special attentioh to medical instruction and are doing wonders in driving back the horrors of heathen surgery. Cases of suffering were formerly given over to the devil worshipers and such tortures inflicted as may not be described. The patient was trampled by the feet of the medical attendants. It is only of God’s mercy that there is a living mother in Ceylon. Oh, how much Ceylon needs doctors, and the medical classes of native students under the care of those who follow the example of the late Samuel Fish Green are providing them, so that all the alleviations, and kindly ministries, and scientific acumen that can be found in American and English hospitals will soon bless all Ceylon. In that island are thirty-two American schools, 210 Church of England schools, 234 Wesleyan schools, 234 Roman Catholic schools. Ah, the schools decide most everything! How suggestive the incident that came to me in Ceylon! In a school under the care of the Episcopal church two boys were converted to Christ and were to be baptized. An intelligent Buddhist boy said in the school, “Let all the boys on Buddha's side come to this part of the room and all the boys on Christ’s side go to the other part of the room.” All the boys except two went on Buddha’s side, and when the two boys who were to be baptized were scoffed at and derided one of them yielded and retired to Buddha’s side. But afterward that boy was very sorry that he yielded to the persecution, and when the day of baptism came stood up beside the boy who remained firm. Some one said to the boy who had vacillated in his choice between Buddha and Christ, ‘‘You are a coward and not fit for either side,” but he replied, “I was overcome of temptation, but I repent and believe.” Then both the, boys were baptized, and from that time the Anglican mission moved on more and more vigorously. I will not tty which of all th* de-

nominations of Christians Is doing the most for the evangelization of that island, but know this—Ceylon will be taken for Christ! Sing Bishop Hober’s hymm “What though the spicy breezes Blow soft over Ceylon’s Isle." Among the first places I visited was i Buddhist college; about 100 men studying to become priests, gathered around the teachers. Stepping Into the building where the high priest was instructing the class, we were apologetic and told him we were Americans and would like, to see his mode of teaching if he had no objections, whereupon he began, doubted up as he was on a lounge, with ins right hand playing with his foot. In his left hand he held a package of bamboo leaves, on which were written the words of the leason, each student holding a similar package of bamboo leaves. The high priest first read, and then one of his students read. A group of as finely formed young men as I ever saw surrounded the venerable instructor. The last word of each sentence was intoned. There was in the whole scene an earnestness which impressed me! Not able to understand a word of what was said, there is a look of language and intonation tlint is the same among all races. That the Buddhists have full faith in their religion no one can doubt. • That is, in their oponion, the way to heaven. What Mohammed is to the Mohammedan nnd whet Christ is to the Christian Buddha is to the Buddhist. We waited for a pause in the recitation, and then, expressing our thanks, retired. Near by is a Buddhist temple, on the altar of which before the image of Buddha are offerings of flowers. As night was coming on we came up to a Hindoo temple. First we were prohibited going farther than the outside steps, but we gradually advanced until we could see all that was going on inside. The worshipers, were making obeisance. The tomtoms were wildly beaten, and shrill pipes were blown, and several other instruments were in full bang and blare, and there was an indescribable hubbub and the most laborious style of worship I had ever seen or heard. The dim lights, and the jargon, and the glooms, and the flitting figures mingled for eye and ear a horror which it is difficult to shake off. All this Was only suggestive of what would there transpire after the toilers of the fay had ceased work and Imd time to ap- - pear at the temple. Thatqsuch things should be supposed to please Xlie Lord or have any power to console ol help the worshipers is only another mystery in this world of mysteries. But we came away saddened with the spectacle, a sadness which did not leave us until we arrived at a place where a Christian missionary was preaching in the street to a group of natives. I had that morning expressed a wish to witness such a scene, and here it was. Standing on an elevation, the good man was addressing the crowd. AH,was attend - light after a thick darkness. It was the gospel after Hindooism. Ancient Civilization. But parsing up and down the streets of Ceylon you find all styles of people within five minutes—Afghans, Kaffirs, Portuguese, Moormen, Dutch, English, Scotch, Irish, American—ail classes, all dialects, all manners and customs, ail styles of salaam. The most interesting thing on earth is the human race, and specimens of all branches of it confront you in Ceylon. The island of the present is a quiet nnd inconspicuous affair compared with what it once was. The dead cities of Ceylon were larger and more imposing than are the living cities. On this island are dead New Yorks, and dead Pekings, and dead Edinburghs, and dead Londons. Ever and anon at the stroke of the archaeologist’s hammer the tomb of some great municipality flies open, and there are other buried cities that will yet respond.to the explorer’s pickax! The Pompeii and Herculaneum underneath Italy are small compared with the Pompeiis and Herculaneums underneath Ceylon. Yonder is an exhumed city which was founded 500 years before Christ, standing in pomp and splendor for 1,200 years. Stairways up which fifty men might pass side by side; •carved pillars, some of them fallen, some of them aslant, some of them erect; Phidiases and Christopher Wrens never heard of here performed the marvels of sculpture and architecture; aisles through which royal processions marched; arches under which kings were carried ; city with reservoir twenty miles in circumference; extemporized lakes that did their cooling and refreshing for twelve centuries; ruins more suggestive than Melrose and Kenilworth; Ceylonian Karnaks and Luxors; ruins retaining much of grandeur, though wars bombarded" them and tiriie put his chisel on every block, and, more than all, vegetation put its anchors and pries and wrenches in all the crevices. You can judge somewhat of the size of the cities by the reservoirs that were required to slake their thirst, judging the size of the city from the size of the cup out of which it drank. Cities crowded with inhabitants, not like American or English cities, but packed together as only barbaric tribes can pack them, But their knell was sounded. Their light went out. Giant trees are the only royal family now occupying those palaces. The growl of, wild beasts where once the guffaw of wassail ascended. Anurajahpura and f Pollonarna will never be rebuilded. Let all the living cities of the earth take Warning. Cities are human, having a time to be born and a time to die. No more certainly have they a cradle than a grave. A last judgment is appointed for individuals, but cities have their last judgment in this world. They bless, they curse, they worship, they blaspheme, they suffer, they are rewarded, they are overthrown. Preposterous, says some one, to think that any of our American or European cities which have stood so long can ever, come through vice to extinction. But New York and London have not stood as; long as those Ceylonese cities stood. Where is the throne outside of Ceylon on which 165 successive kings reigned for a lifetime? Cities and nations that have lived far longer than our present cities or nation have been sepulchered. Let all the great municipalities of this and other, lands ponder. It is as true now hs when the psalmist wrote it and as true of cities and nations as of individuals, “The Lord knoweth the way of the righteous, but the way of the ungodly shall perish.” The crazy Italian theologian, Paoletti, wrote a book to prove that the North American Indians were the direct descendants of Satan and one ot Noah’s daughters, and that, consequently, they were incapable of rephnt* anca orsalvation. -a <*»•*'