Terre Haute Weekly Gazette, Terre Haute, Vigo County, 7 February 1878 — Page 2

THURSDAY. FEBRUARY 7, mS.%.

THE GUEST.

ora out thegrewt wurM'i raeh and din 1 h*re came a RUtht The inner court been era«i in,

And sat at rest.

Slow on the wild tide of affairs Tne Kates were closed Afar the hungry host of cares

At last reposed. ,ThPn through the dim doors of the past, All pure of blam ... Cairn hoylsh memories floating I*st—

His mother's name. "Ah! all this louil wor calls the best I'd give" he said, I •t7 :««t«feel her hand, on her dear braaat

To lean my head it

UI r.ry

wtthin th

That moment passed.

Tltn sacred silence of the rtf6m Did softly stir

Is on his hair.

W'll r.-aeh her boy.

bo'fywhich

crowned !fty,

That rou'd be jov. Oml-1 fhe but he«r me ^ar away, •, j. Once more her boy."

Men's strength isweaknes, after all [le stood con'ossc': None qu fce ran still th*? heart wlu call*

None quito are essed.

Across tha face that knows no fear A shaile swept fast, As if a foil-wing angel near

A sn endor grew wilhin the room,, Other, of nor! "j

Out to the great world's rush and din Has goue my guest The battle b'ame—thepraia^ men win

Are his—not rest.

Far out amid the earth's turmoil A strong man stands. Upheld in triumnh and in toils

By unseen hands. Bnt who may lift wl'h subtle wand The masks we wear? I only know his mother's hand

I onlv know through all life's harms, Through sin's al oy, Somehow, somowhat that mother 8 arms

t: —[Mary Clemmer In the Independent

GEOGRAPHY OF THE FUTURE

CATHOLIC THEORY OF HELL, ITS CATION AND ITS NATURE.

.."Hell Oj ejied to Christians" is the title of a work republished in recent numbers of the New York Sunday Democrat, some lines ot the preface to it, the Sun day Democrat says: Years aejo a holy Jesuit (the Rev. Father Pinamonti) wrote an admirable book of meditation on hell, which was reprinted in thiscoun tr with the approbation of Bishop Kend rick of Philadelphia." In giving some passages from it in the Sun. we trust we shall not diminish their interest by the condensation that is necessary, or leaving out the Latin or Scriptural quo tations which adorn it. The Rev. Fath er Pinamonti says:

III

God has framed a prison in the lowest region of the universe, a very suitable place, as the furthest of all fiom heaven Here, though the place is wide enough

Tour^walls, or the sick

man in turning himself in bed, because here they shall be bound up like a faggot, and heaped upon one another like unfor tunate victims and this by reason of the great numbers of the damned, to whom this great pit will become narrow and 6trait as also because the fire itself will be to them like chains and fetters. The walls of this prison are more than

4,000

miles thick—that is, as far as from hence to hell but were thev as thin as paper, the prisoners will be too weak to break through them to make their escape.

This prison will not enly be extremely strait, but also extremely dark. It is true there will be fire, but deprived of light yet so that the eyes shall suffer with the sight of most horrible appearances, pnd yet be debarred of the comfort which in the midst of all their terror, the lightnings themselves might cause in the frightfulest tempests. ''There will be heat without brightness," by a contrary miracle to what was wrought in the Babylonian furnace, for there, by the command of God, the heat was taken from the fire, but not the light of brightness bul in hell the fire will lose its light, but not its heat. Moreover, this same fire burning with brimstone will have a searching flame, which being mingled with the rolling smoke of that infernal cave, will fill the whole place, and raise a storm of darkness. Finally, the same mass of bodies heaped one on another will contribute to make up a part of that dreadful night, not a glimpse of transparent air being left to the eyes of the damned, thus, darkened and almost put out. I

The misfortunes of this prison, 5 so strait and obscure, are heightened by the addition of the greatest stench. Firstly, thither, as to a common sewer, all the filth of the earth shall run after the fire has purged it at the last day.

Second!/, the brimstone itself continually burning in such prodigtous quantity, ... will cause a stench not to be borne.

Thirdly, the very bodies of the damned will exhale so pestilential a smell that if any one ot them wer£ t« be placed here on earth, it would be enough, as St. Bonaventure observes, to cause a general infection. The devil appearing one day to St. Martin, with purple robes, and a crown on his head: '-Adore me," said he, "for I am Christ and deserve it," but the saint, assisted by a celestial light,, answered him, saying, "My lord is crowned with thorus and covered with blood I know him not 0 this dress," The devil being discovered, Bed away,but left so great a stench behind him, that this alone was sufficient for the saint to discover him. If then one single devil could raise such a stench, what will that pestiferous breath be that will be exhaled in the dungeon where all the whole, crowd of tormenting devils, and all the* bodies of the tormented will be penned up together Air itself, being for a time closely shut up, bccomes insupportable judge then what a sink of such loathsome filth must be to tho*e that are confined in it forever. 1 he divine justice has chosen fire as the fittest instrument to punish those that rebel against God. Even among men there never was found a greater torment. Nevertheless, you must not think the fire of hell is like our»». Happy, I say, would those unfortunates be they met with no other fires than what can be made on earth. Our fire is often applied to subjects not at all pro rationed to its activity but the fire of"hell is kindled by a sulphurous and bituminous matter which will always burn with an nnspeakable fury, as it happens tn the thunder-

Strikes wtitli so mudh, ft

caused bv the violence of that lighted ex half atioiu Finally, our fire destroy* vrttat it biirns, therefore, the more intense it is the 6bot ter it is but that fire in which the damned shall ,/orever be tormented shall bum without ever consuming,,and is. therefore^ by Christ compared unto salt, which torturing them with inconceivable heat in nature of fire, will also hinder them from being corrupt^ a,6. it the nature of salt to do. ....

This infernal prison being to contain all the bodies of the damned, without being compenetrated one with another, it will he requisite it should be a pit of many miles In circumference, depth and height, considering the great number of its prisoners. Now, all this great pit will be full of fire, and if lighted straw, when there is enough of it, will heat an oven, what will lighted brimstone do, so violent as to quality, and so great as to quantity? Besides, the fire here will be shut up without any vent, and, therefore, all its flames will return back by reverberation, and, by consequence, be of unspeakable activity. Flames so fierce and so great will not only afflict us without as it happens with the fires in this world, but will penetrate our very bones, onr mar o#, and even the very principle of our life and being: Every one that is damned will belike a lighted furnace, which has its own flames in itself all that filthv blood will boil in the veins, the brains in the skull, the heart in the breast, the bowels within that unfortunate body, surrounded with an abyss of fire, out of which it can not escape.

Consider that whatever has been said, either to the strength, the quality, or the quantity of this infernal fire, it is nothing in comparison to the intenseness it will have as being the instrument of the divine justice, which will raise it abpve its natural fotre to produce most wonderful effects. The infernal fire will be of that kind it will have its rise from the foot of the throne of God—that is to 6ay, it, will receive an incredible vigor from the omnipotence of God—working not with its own activity, but, as an instrument, with the activity of its agent, who will give to the flames such intenseness as he shall think convenient to revenge the outrages committed against him, and to repair the injuries done his glory.

If the fire, like a sword falling with its own weight only,*Snakes such havoc among us, what will it do in hell, when assisted by an omnipotent arm?

The company of the devils will prove far more tormenting than would be that of our greatest enemies, they being also executioners and ministers of divine justice. They will afflict the damned two differant ways by their sight and by their reproaches. The sight of the devil is so terrible that St. Francis, after having seen him, assured hi6 companion, B' other Giles, "that had it not been for the par ticular help cf God, he could not have beheld such a moster, though for never so few moments, without expiring." St. Antoninus makes mention of a religious person, who, having seen the devil, said he would free'y go into a fiery furnace rather than see him any more. St Catherine, of Sienna, speaking to our Savior,said much more: "That, rather than to behold again so frightful an in fernal form, she would choose to walk in insist.- rtLWi ullig

Uii9*t UIIC Ol LllUSC

monsters alone would be enough to make a hell of the place he was in yet in hell thev will be without rum' er.

What a life will that be, worse than a thousand deaths, to live among such cruel enemies and such bloody executioners.

Conuider that were the pains of hell less racking, yet, being never to have an end, they would become infinite. What, then, will it be, they being both intolera ble as to sharpness and endless as tc duration? Who can conceive how much it adds to grief, its being never to have an end The torment of one hour is

great pain, that of two must be twice as much the torment of a hundred hours must be a hundred times as much, and so on, the pain still increasing in proportion of the time of its duration. What, then, must that be which is to last infinite hours, infinite days, infinite ages? That pain certainly must be infinite, and surpass all our thoughts to conceive it for were it proposed to the damned to suffer either the sting ot a bee in their eye for a whole eternity, or to undergo all the torments of hell for as many ages as there are stars in heaven, they would, without doubt, choosc to be thus miserable for so many ages, and then to see an end of their misery, than to endure a pain so much less that was to have no end. Take an hour glas6 into thy hand, and say thus to thyself: If I were to be buried alive in the middle of afire for as many thousand years as there are grains in this little parcel of sand, which measures the fleeting hours, when should I see ap end of my pain? The world has lasted so long, and yet has not completed 6,oeo years, so that there would not as yet be above fire grains take away, which would not be more than some few atoms, in respect of the remaining quantity and yet, if I die in mortal sin, I am obliged by faith to be lieve that, after having suffered all these ages, none of my pain due to it will be passed, and eternity will remain as entire as ever. Let us go on, and imagine to ourselves a mountain of this small said, so high as would reach from earth to heaven then let every one say to him self, were I to continue in flames so many thousand years as there are graint of sand in this vast mountain, when should I ever see an end of my torments? Let us, then, imagine this great inountuin to be multiplied as often as there are sands in the sea,leaves on trees, feathers on birds, scales on fishes, haire on beasts, atoms in the air, drops ot water that have rained or will rain to the day of judgement. What human understanding can ever comprehend so great a number, which can scarce be comprehended by an angel himself?

If this succession of ages without end could in hell give any relief by variety, it would, on that scare, be more tolerable but how can it be tolerable, it being to be always the same in torments? y-

"It is hard to kick against the Hicks." —Scripture. The beautious widow felt a change of heart,

And frowned on folly^s a thing abhorred Setting the vanities of life apart,

She turned for consolation to her Lord.

Easton Free Press: When you meet a school girl with a far away look in her eyes and nervously moving lips, she «s not thinking of her beau, but wrestling With a conundrum in mental arithemic.

60V.' HENDRICKS.

Telegraphs to the* (N*. Y.) Herald

A. Reply lo Anfflfst mont'D Letter,

Bel-

PuVished in That Journal January 30th,

And Says That the Purport of This Letter Was to Show That His Views on the 7 Silver Question Were

Inconsistent.

He Denies That He UsM the Word "Gold" in His First Speech of the Campaign

In^«»Pp"»A

But had Said "Coin," ani Meant Both Gold and Silver.

New York, Feb. 2.—Hon. Thomas A. Hendricks has telegraphed to the Herald reply to August Belmont's letter, pub lished in the same Journal January 3" Mr. Hendaicks sajs: The putpose of his (Belmont's) letter was t® show that the views attributed to me on the silver Question are inconsistent with my opin ion heretofore expressed and, thereforo that I cannot be correctly reported. The report in the Cinc:nnati paper was correct I verv much desire to be considered consistent, but I would rather be certain that I am right than consistent upon this question. I think I have been consistent. Mr. Belmont quotes me as holding that since the act of March i§.

wtiettier that section

passed, or did not pass, the section, substantially, as I read it in the senate, oecame law ninetesn days af terward. Its force and eftect did not become a question of political contioversy in Indiana in

1872,

the discussion of

but it did enter into

1874.

the Demo

cratic convention that year a resolution was passed declaring the

5-20

b^nds pay

able in greenbacks. I pres-iJed over that convention, and. as I conld not give that resolution my support, I took occasion at the first public meeting which I addressed in Indianapolis, to sav so, and to give mv re&sons. I thought then, as I believe now, that after the faith of the nation was pledged to payment in coin, we could not paj in treasury notts, and that the purchasers of bonds after that date took them relying upon that pledge, and that we are bound by it—that was my argument before the people. Neither my hearers, nor I, thought of ihe question whether payment could be made in silver—it was not then doubted. It was not then known to myself, and I suppose, not lo one of the audience, that the silver dollar had been discarded. Belmont rerers to that address, and to the use of the word "gold" in it instead of. the word "coin," as committing me to the payment of the debt in goid and not in silver. The only question then discussed was the right to pay in greenbacks. The right to pay in silver was not then questioned or considered in Indiana. In the address which I made as president of the convention, two months before, my opinions upon the currency were somewhat fully expressed. I then 6aid, "We cannot too strongly express the importance of the policy that shall restore uniformity of value to all the money of the country, to that it shall be always and readily converted, and that gold and silver are the real standard of value, and it is a cherished Democratic sentiment, not now, nor hereafter to be abandoned." I certainly could not have used that language in the campaign of

1874,

1873

Rnc*

known that silver was no longer money. A more important question, made by Belmont, is that the argument whiqji excludes payment of public debt in treasury notes under the act of March,

1869,

hau*ted before the -passive of the act Of 1S73. Or,is it ri^ht of the public or prira'e creditor, either, to sav to. ccmgr^s, "You shall not exercise the corstifutio'nal power cf coining money ami regulating the value thereof, because by changing the standard you may change the value of the investments," We have not rr{ ognized such rule. There would be force in

such

870,

plies with greater force under the act of

x873,

which excludes the silver dollar from coinage. I think that is not correct. The act of

1S69

wa9 to remove

any doubt to settle the conflicting interpretations of laws, under which public obligations were contracted, and to pledge the faith of the United States to the payment of such obligations in coin. After full consideration it became law. It was soon followed by an act to authorize the refunding of the national debt. That law provided that $1,500,000,000 of bonds, which it authorized, should be redeemable in a coin of the present standard value, because the act of 1869 was a solemn pledge ot my country, trade by competent authority, and I felt it was binding, so binding, indeed, that it could i.ot be repealed to the prejudice of those to whom it was given. The act of

was of such a class and

character, to whom it makes solemn the pledge, that the constitutional power of congress to loan money and to regulate the value thereof shall never again be exercised until the public debt shall have been fully paid. Why and wherein is the coinage act of

1873

more sacred and irre-

pealable than the coinage act of

1834,

which it modified? Does p«wer to coin moi ey and regulate the ralue thereof belong to a class of powers, that once exercised it becomes exhaustive? If that were so the power had been ex.

a claitn under the act of

which provides for the pa- mcr.tof bonds in coin of the then present stand revalue. The act uf

1S73

VCWER

1869,

t^e

bonded debt m*6t be paid in gold, as It contradisguishes from paper or silver In that he is not correct. The bill to strengthen the people's credit was pend irginthe senate in February

1869.

made an argument against, the seciion which pledged the faith ot the govern ment lo the pa ment of these bends coin, and I opposed it because I though the contract allowed the payment of the principal of tie 5-20 bonds to be mad in treasury notes. Mr. Belmont takes one 6er tence to show that I held that th effect of the measure would be to pay in goid. Had Belmont read more carefu ly he would have seen that I read the sectiorvcontaining these words, "That the faith of the United States is solemn! pledged to the payment in coin, or its equivalent," and that I then said, "It will cause the removal

doubts, ana

make the law to read that the debt shall be paid in coin—that is the effect of this section." Upon that conrtruction I made my argument against the section, not as in a controversy whether pavment should te in silver as against.gold, but whether it might be in paper as against coin. It was not ques tibned in that debate that silver wij^oin Tsnv,ct*.

0'ntains no

ple g« nrr contiac# It is legislative un •r the con inking power congress id subject to repeal or amendment, like any other law passed und^r the same power. It is not, therefore, in my judgment, a question cf public faith, but one of expediency oily. Being such, seems 10 me the .part of iom to have some resjarato" the condition of the financial distress that exists in the country, and to the disturbed state of the public mind. That ocrvades a large portion of the country. Any change in coinage is alwavs delecate and important work, and should be made onafter the most careful consideration all interests of the country- «f Should silver money be restored? I have thought so. The pledge of

1869

of the payment

iu coin, and the assurance of the act ol iS7o, of the payment in coin, at the then standard value, would seem to authorize, almost to quire its compliance with the contract, and can not be a breach of public fa-th. Our country is a large producer of silver. The quality of money i& important it6 value I think that when restored silver will approach, and, perhaps, reach gold in value, but should the experience prove that it must remain below gold, bec»use of its greater production, congress has ample power to provide against any evi'.sltkely to follow.

THE OCEAN.

A SIGNIFICANT SUGGESTION.

London, Feb.

—The Journal De St

Petersburg says: If Turkey were a civilized power caring for the interests of all her suhjectR the present occupation of her provinces might compel her to make pe ice, but as the circumstances are otherwise the conclusion of peace is hardly 6ible4^e Wr.LLS IN WASHINGTON—HE SAYS IF

S FRIENDS DO NOT HELP HIM THAT IIK WILL MAKESOMB STARTLING DISCLOSURES.,'

Washington, Feb. 1.—A gentlemarf of Louisiana, generally well informed, says ex-Governor Wells airived in Washingon yesterday and

:00k

lodgings in

private house, not caring to have his locality publicly known, but that a small circle of public men have been confidentially informed that he is in the city and that his demand on them is fori protection from the pending prosecution in New Orleans. If he should be unsuccessful in furnishing it he would leave the country provided means were furnished to enable him to live indeper. dently ab:oad otherwise he would protect himself as tar as possible by making unpleasant disck^ures concerning his connection with the returning board and are no means of corroEratfng tfifs TnTfor mation, owing to the strictness of the alleged concealment. It is not supposed that the petition of the returning board sent to Associate Justice Bradley for writ ot prohibition, having in view the transfer of their case from the state to the United States circuit court, will receive a favorable response

THE METROPOLIS.

LAST PARTICULARS OF THE WRECK.

Washington, February

2,—The

signa

service station at the wreck of the steamer Metropolis reports ihat the survivors would leave at noon to-day for Norfolk.

They are destitute of clothing and -most all are barefooted and bareheaded but are well cared for by the people.

Norfolk, Feb

—The wrecking tugs

have all returned from the wreck of the Metropolis and report a terrible surf breaking all along shore and a strong southerly current. Nothing is visible ot the wreck but her steam drivei s. All her wcod work is gone.

FAILURES.

AN INSURANCE COM* VHY. New York, Feb., 1.—The Sun Mutual Insurance company has determined to reduce its outstanding scrip. The losses and expenditures for the past year are f337°°° the total assets,

$630,000.

suspension is announced of j.

The

j. WOODLEY,

of Quebec, the most extensive "boot4 and shoe manufacturers in the province. I iabilities about

$300,000.

The assets

will pay 50 cents on the dollar.*' "v CONDENSED LIGHTNING.

SATURDAY FEBRUAUY 3.

Thomas Ewing addressed a silver meeting in Cooper Institute. The Anderson (returning board) trial is progressing at New Orleans.

The Brussels Journal says the armistie has beien signed.

THE VOICE OF MR. VOORHEES. Fi$m the 5few York Trioime. Shame upon 6uch incendiary speech! There is no such thing in America as a divition of the people into debtor and creditor classes, no such thing possible a» a discrimination between taxpayer ard bondholder. We are all taxpayers we are all creditors we all bear the same burdens we all share in the properity of the nation, and suffer in its misfortunes. To sow animosities between the people who work in the citie* and the people who work in the fields, to teach the poor man that he must hate and envy, and if possible plunder his mere fortunate neighbor, who, having earned a ccmptence, is now trying toerjoy his own, is a crime against society,. Wha? a commentary it is upon American enlightenment that in the age of free schools a gentleman like Mr. Voorhees knows so little of the condition of his own country and bas learned so little of the lessons ot history.

The Teeth an Advertising Medium. £verv time »lady, whe uses fragrant SOZODONT opens her mou' h, she advertises the article. The state of her teeth is a certificate of its excellence. No spot darkens their *urfece no impurity clings to them,' he coekioas in which they are set am rosy, aad the breath that swells through them is aa sweet as the breeze of June.

gpaldiDg's Liqoid Glne, always ready to on

PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE.

A Novel of Thrlilini Interest About the Great Strikes in England.

jr BY GUAR LBS RE ADR.

LContinned From bast Issue.]

CHAPTER XXXIX.

1 he short interval previous to the wedding day passed, to all appearance, as that period generally does. Settlements were drawn, and only awaited signature The bride seemed occupied with dress, and receiving visits and presents, andt reading and writing letters of that sor which ought to be done by machinery.

The bridegroom hovered about the house running in and out on this or that pretext

She received his presence graciously, read him the letters of her female friends, and forced herself to wear a languid complacency, especially before others.

Under all this routine she had paroxysms of secret misery, and he was in tortures.

These continued until the eye of the wedding, and then he breathed freely. No letter had come from the United States, and to-morrow was the wedding dav. The chances were six to one no letter came that day, and. even if one should, he had now an excuse for keeping Lally on the premises that particular morning. Atone o'clock he would be flying south with his bride.

He left the villa to dress for dinner. During the interval Jael Dence called The housemaiJ knocked at Grace's door—she wjis dressing—and told her Jael wished to see her.

Grace was surprised, and much disturbed. It flashed on her in a moment that this true and constant lover of Hen ry Little had come to enjoy het superiority. She herself had desired this meeting once, but now it could only serve to mortify her. The very thought that this young woman was near her set her trembling but she forced herself to ap pear calm, and, turning to her maid, said, "Tell her 1 can see no one to-day."

The lady's maid gave this message to the other" servant, and she went down stairs with it.

The message, had not been gone long when the desire to put a question to Jael Dence returned strongly upon Grace Carden

She yielded to~an uncontrollable im pulse, and sent her maid down to say that she would speak to Jael Dence, in her bedroom, the last thing at night. "The last thing at night!" said T»el coloring, with indignation "and where am I to find a bed after that?" "Oh." said the late footnjan, now but ler, "you shall not leave the house. I'll that for you with the house

manage keeper.' At half past eleven o'clock that night Grace dismissed her maid, and told her to bring Jael Dence to her,

Jael came, and they confronted each other once more. "You can pro." said Grace to the maid tic wcVtTwronc ana eveo each OtRCf stsangelv. "Sit down," said Giace. coldly "No, thank you, said Jael, firmly. -I shall not remain long after the way I have been received." "And how did you expect to be received?" "As I used to be. As a poor girl who once saved his life, and nearly lo6t her own, through being his true and faithful servant." "Faithful to him but not to me." 'j

Jael's face showed she did not understand thi "Yes," said Grace, bitterly, "you are the real cause of my marrying Mr. Coventry, whom I don't love, and never can love. You look all candor and truth, but I know what you are all the women in that factory knew about you and hitn— read that." She handed her the anonymous lettei, and watched her like an eagle.

Jael read the poison,„and colored a little, but was not confounded. "Do you believe this, Miss Carden?" "I did not believe it at first, but too many people have confirmed it. Your own conduct has confirmed it, my poor girl. This is cruel of me." "Never mind," said Jael, resolutely. "We have gone too far to stop. My conduct What conduct if you please "They all sav that, when you found he was no "more you attempted self-destruct-lOfl* "Ah," cried Jael, like a wounded hare, "they must tell you that!" And she buried her face into her hands.

Now this was-a young woman endow* ed by nature with great composure, and a certain sobriety ami weight so, when she gave way like that it produced a great effect on those who knew her.

Grace sighed, and was distressed. But there was no help tor it now. She awaited Jael's reply, and Jael could not speak for some time. She said, in a low voice.

Suppose you bad a sister, whom you loved dearly—and then jou had a quarrel with her, and neither of you much to blame, the fault with a third person and suppose you came home suddenly, and found that sister had left England in trouble, an.l gone to the other end of the world—would not that cut you to the heart. "Indeed it would. How correctly you speak. Now who has been teaching yon?" '•Mrs, Little." "Ah!" "You have a father. Suppose you left him for a month, and then came back and found him dead and buried—think of that —buried!" "Poor girl "And all this to fall on a poor creature just «ff a sick-bed, and scarcely right in her hea.l. When I fot/hd poor Mr. Henrv was dead, and vr-uat death's door, I cr? w!id home for coint. rt. aad there I fou ri desoliition: my si ..ter gone across the 'sea, my father in the churcn-yard. I

me sea, my laurei uiiurvu-y»ru. ., wandered about all night, with my heavy devils that is your cieed. heart and distraught brain, and at last they found me in the river. They may say

threw mys«lf in, but it is my belief I

swooned away and fell in.

wouldn't

bwear, though, for I remember nothing of it What does it prove against me?" "Not much, indeed, by itself. But they all saj you were shut up with him for hours." "And that i» true ten hours,every day. He was at war with these trades, and his own workmen had betrayed him. He knew

was as strong as a man at some

kinds of work—of course

can't strike

blows, and hurt people like a man—so he asked me, would I

help him grind saws

mith hit machine on the sly—clandes-

tinely, I mean. Well, I did, and very easy work it was^-clvild'* plM to me that had wrought on a farm. He gave me six pounds a week for it. That's all the harm we did together and as for what we said, let me tell you a first-rate workman, like poor Mr. Henry, work very silently that is where they beat us women. I am sure we often ground a dozen saws, and not a wo*d, except on sines*. When we did talk, it was sure to be about you. Poor lad. the very last time we wrought together, I mind he said, 'Well done, Jael, that's good work it brings me an inch nearer her.' And I said, AH the better, and I'd give him another hour or two every day if he liked.

That vcy evening I took him his tea at seven o'clock. He was writing letters one was to you. He was just addressing it. 'Good night, Jael,1 said he. 'You have been a good friend lo her and

me. Oh! did he say that? What became of that letter?" "Upon ray soul he did: ay, and it was the last wofd to me in the* world. But you are not of his mind* it seems. The people in the factory! I know they used to say we were sweethearts. You can't wonder at that they didirt know about vou, nor anv of our secrets and, of course the. vulgar folk like them could not guess the sort of affection I had for poor Mr. Henry but a lady like you should not go by their lights. Besides I was always open with you. Once I had a different feeling for him: did I hide it from you?

When I found he loved you, I set to work to cure myself. I did cure myself before your very eyes after that, you ought to be ashamed of vourself to go and cfoubt me. There, now, I have made her cry."

Her own voice faltered a moment, and she said, with gentle dignity, "Well, I forgive you, for old kindnesses past but I shall not sleep under this roof now. God bless you. and give you many happy days with this gentleman vou are going to, marry. Farewell."

She was actually going, but Grace caught her by the arm. "No, no, you shall not leave me so."

Ay, but I will." And jael's eyes, so mild in general, began to sparkle, at being detained agaist her will, but, generous to the last, she made no use of her great strength to get clear from Grace. "You will not go, it you are the woman you were. I believe your words, I believe vour honest face, I implore your forgiveness. I am the most miserable creature in this world. Pray do not abandon me."

This appeal, made with piteous gestures and streaming eyes, overprowered, Jael Dence, and soon they were seated, rocking together, and Grace pouring out her heart.

The unhappy voung lady lamented her precipitaton, and the idea of marrying Mr. Coventry to-morrow became odious: to her. She asked Jael wildly whether she would not be justified^ in putting attend to her life.

Jael consoled her all she could and, at her request, slept in the same bed with her. Indeed she was afraid to ieave her for she was wild at times, and said would prefer to be married to that dead hand at the Town Hall, and then thrown into the grave with it. "That's the bridal I long for," said 6he. trrtiic morning she was calmer, and told Jael she thought she was doing right. "I shall be neither more nor lesswretched for marrying this poor man," 6aid she: "and I shall make two people happy two people thatdeserve the sacri* fice I make."

So, after all, the victim went calmly. Earlj* in the morning came a letter from Doctor Fynes. He was confined by the. gout, and sorry to jay the ceremony her* had hoped to perform must be done by1 his curate.

Now this curate was quite a stranger to Grace, and indeed to most people in Hillsborough. Doctor Fynes himselfknew nothing about him except that he had come in answer to his inquiry for a/ curate, had brought good letters of recommendation, and had shown himself ac-. quainted with the learned doctor's notes to Apolloniu' Rhodius on which several ^grounds the doctor, who was himself a a better scholar than a priest, had made'.' him his curate, and had heard no com--complaints, except from a few puritanical souls. These he looked on as barbarians, and had calmly ignored them and their prejudices ever since he transferred his library from St. John's college, Cainbridge, to St. Peter's rectory, and that was thirty years ago,

This sudden substitute ot an utter stran-? ger for Doctor Fynes affected Grace Carden not a little, and her wedding day began with a tear or two on that account. But, strange as it may appear, she lived to alter her mind, and to thank and bless Mr. Beresford for taking her old friend's'' place on that great occasion.

But while the bride dressed for church [?-. and her bridesmaids and friends drove up, events were taking place, to deal with which I must retrogate a step.

Joel Dence having gone to Woodbine Villa, Mrs. Little and her brother.dined

aete-a-tete

and the first question she

sked was, "Why, where is Jael/" ''Don't you ltnow? gone to Woodbine Villa. The wedding is to-morrow." "What, my Jael gone to that girl's wedding!" And her eyes flashed with ire. "Why not? I am going to it myself." "I am sorry to hear you say so—very sorry." "Why, she is my goldchild. Would you have me afront her?" "If she is your godchild, He nry is your nephew." "Of course and I did all I could to ma#ry him to Grace but, you see, he' would be wisei- than me." "Dear Quy, my poor Henry was to blame for not accepting your generous offer: but that does not excuse this heartless, fickle girl."

Rabv's sense of justice began to revolt.. "My dear Edith, I can't bear to hear you speak so contemptuously of this poor girl, who has 60 nearly died for love of your son. She is one of the noblest,, purest, most unselfish creatures I ever knew. Why judge so hastily! But that is the way with you laciei, it must be the

Henry going to marry another?" ot that I knew of."

"Is "Not "Then t«hat excuse can there be for her conduct? Does wrong become right when this young lady does it? It is vou bo are prejudiced, not I. Her conduct is without excuse. I have written to her: she has replied, and has offered me no excuse. 'Forgive me,' she says, 'and forget me.' I shall never forgive her and you must permit me to despise her for a few years before 1 forget her." "Well, don't excite yourself so. My poor Edith, some day or other you wil^. be sorry you ever said a word against that & amiable and most unfortunate girl." [Continued on Sevenln Page.j