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:~ - m -â€".â€"â€".__ __ " shelf, with my head on one side admiringldrawiugs, and do my best to explain them BEYOND RECALL a9nbllshed by special arrangement from advance sheets of Chambers" Journal. CHAPTER. XV. RAISED F303! THE DEAD. The inventive faculty which had led me in bygone days to model clay figures and then to carve them in wood, revived in me 181 gained health and strength. My de- termination to do nothing which would bring back the past to my contemplation kept me from employing this faculty in artistic creation, and for atime I kept it in idlesubjection,like aman holdiughis tongue for fear of saying something foolish ; but the power to form ideas was alive within me, and sooner or later it was bound to find expression in some form or other. I found great comfort in a book of kphy- sics that I go: from the library. It ‘ took me out of myself, and gave a turn to my thoughts when they were in danger of wandering into vacancy. I have known the time when that idle wandering of the imagination is full of delight ; but never in my prison. Many a night, for want of mental occupation, I have cried myself to sleep like a child for I would not think what. And so, as I say, that book upon physics was a source of comfort to me. Every evening I had it out, and when I came upon a new problem I would ask my- self why it was worked out in that way and not in another. Then I set myself to solve the problem in that other fashionâ€"a task that gave occupation to my brain in the dark waking hours after the lights were out. In this way I came to invent all sorts of things, from gases to planetary sys- tems. Mechanics afforded me the greatestinter- est, for here I could give visible shape to my ideas. I had a slate and pencil, and with two splinters of wood that I brought in up my sleeves, an old screw found in the tool stores, and a darning needle picked up outside the tailor’s shop, I contrived to make a useful pair of compasses. With these I drew my mechanical contrivnucesâ€" plan, elevation, and sectionâ€"all to scale as if they were working drawings. Our chaplain was an excellent man -â€"the very best that could have held that posi- tion. One could believe that the reforming of men was his vocation, and not a mere trade, chosen for its pecuniary or social ad- vantages. Hc had the clear sense to see that, before we could be converted to angels, we must be humanised, and he sought to . humanise us by encouraging our better ten- dencies, and developing any taste that might lift us above the condition of torpid brutes. “ Well,” said he, one Sunday afternoon, as he seated himself on the stool in my cell, “ what is the last invention 2’” “ A lamp, sir,” said I, fetching my slate from the shelf. “ You see the light here is very poor and trying to the eyes”-â€"there was no gas in prison at that timeâ€"“ and I’ve been thinking how it might be improv- ed without expense or danger.” “ Why, this is a subject that interests me,” said hemcheerfully, as he took the slate, “ for.the girl has broken two chim- neys iii the week, and nearly set the house on fire last night ; and it’s a serious ques- tion whether I should not go to the ex- pense of laying on gas.” “ You ought- to get gas from petroleum as good as that from coal, and cheaper.” “ You shall show me how. Come explain it all. that’s thisâ€"Fig. i?" “ That’s a reservoir for the oil, six inches in diameter, with a convex bottom of burn- ished tin or white enamelled iron to re- flect the light, and fitted with a hemispheri- cal glass below.” “ No fear of breaking that How do you fix it ? There‘s no foot." " No, sir; that would show a shadow, for the same reason there is no burner or jet under the flame ; the light parts in a spray from the circumference. I planned it to drop through a hole in the iron over~ head ; but it could be hung from a. ceiling or hooked on a wall equally well.” , “ I see. It looks promising. Now let us cans to the section, for I’ve no idea how it’s to work." I made my drawings clear to him. There is no need to repeat the explanation here. The invention is old now: my lamp has superseded the ordinary gas illumination on one of the Continental lines, and the system i is sufficiently well known to those who in- terest themselves in such matteis. “It seems possible,” said the chaplain, ' when I had shown all. “ I don't see why it should not answer.” “ The only proof is a that is not practicable." experiment. slate 3" “ Of course I will sir ; you know that." He nodzled shaking my hand kindly, and went. away with my slate. About three weeks later he came with more than usual animation in his genial face. " It’s a success, your lamp," he said rub- bing his hands. I“ A brilliant success." \Ve talked about it for some time. He tactical trial and p ’ lztliought I, “I shall calm down “ \Vhy not ? I should like to muke.the land d0 g°°d work i I can afford Will you let me have yourl ‘ moment a generous glow to my breast. It was the consciousness that I lived again. and had the power to spend my life in the service of that dear soul in the outer world to whom I was linked. “ Raised from the dead?" I cried, my spirit exalted almost to madness. “ Raised from the dead! ” But indeed even that did not express all I felt. For the dead are better than those who live only because they cannot die. “ I see I was not mistaken, 365," said the chaplain, “ You know what to do with the money.” “ Yes, sir. It shall all go to my poor wife. I can talk about her now ; I can think about her night and day now. I have had to drive her away from my thoughts all these years, for fear I should go mad with the knowledge that I could not in any way alleviate the misfortune and suffering I have brought upon her. You can under- stand how a poor fellow feels in here, sir. Think what it would be, sir, if you had to keep the thought of heaven and God's mercy out of it for a dayâ€"think if you had to keep the place they filled a blank?” Something of tho frenzy I felt as I looked back upon the terrible struggle I had gone through must have been in my looks, for the chaplain stopped me with an admonish- ing gesture. “ That will do. that now," he said. - “ No, sir, no; I won’t make a fool of myself.” Then I burst out crying to prove the contrary. “ If you knew how good and beautiful she was l” said I, between my sobs. “ Yes, I can believe that,” said he. “ Come, be a man.” “Ay, sir, but I must be a child first.” I laughed hysterically, like a girl; then, with a simplicity no less girlish as I strove to be calm, I continued ; “ She is but twenty-two now, sir. Her face was like Clytie’s you have seen the bust. She can’t have changed as I have. So sweet and gentleâ€"yet bright, yet quickwitted, and bright and gayâ€"then. “'e were married clandestinely, and then her father came home. A millionaire, they say he is ; I was nothing but a. poor cabinet-maker. He hasn’t a good heartâ€"a selfish man with a great desire to make a position in society. If he has found cut my poor dear's secret, he will make her life unendurable, even if he does not send her away. And now she may be dependent for subsistence on her own resources. thnt can a girl, trained No need to think of as she has been, do '2. It’s difficult to those - who have been brought up in hardship. Perhaps she may be dependent on the charity of friendsâ€"iii terrible misery. That’s why I dared not think of her ; but I may now. This money will give her in- dependence ; that will besome relief to her, dear soul 1 And there’s no reason to keep this n. secret from you ; I will tell you all.” , “ Better not just yet, 365.” “ You can tell me Wyndham now, you like. I am a man again.” “ \Vell, Wyndham, that is a great deal. But you must not let your hopes carry you too far. My friend is too good a man of business to venture upon an undertaking without a tolerable assurance of commer- cial success. Still the result'may be less rcmunerative than I have led you to ex- pect.” “ What of that, air! If I could only throw a bunch of violets in her path it would be something to live for.” ” Limit your hopes to that for the pres- ent. I will speak to the governor about this matter. Idon’t think he will object to your seeing my friend in the ordinary way. and hearing what he has to say about the lamp ; at the same time it may be con- trary to the regulations of the prison, in which case you may entrust the affair to a personal fiiend. Individually I fear that my position will not allow me to do more than I have said. I think,” he added, rising, “we shall do well to say no more upon this subject until the governor has considered it.” “I understand you, sir,” said I. “You shall not hear another word about it from my lips until you give me permission to speak." I shall never forget the joy of that day. It was impossible to sit still for two min- utes together. I walked up and down my little cell with feverish haste, revolving in my mind all the inventions that had occur- red to me, with a view to finding the best material for building up a fortune for her. I saw nothing clearly, for the host of ideas that chased each other. “Never mind,” presently, to do no- thing this evening.” Then I stretched my arms out, spreading and closing my fingers sir, if ‘strenuously, as if feeling for some object on which to expand my overflowing energy; I felt I must- be doing something, after all , and so, impatient already of idleness, I sat down and opened my book. How often had I buried myself in it that I might not think of her ; now I could not follow out a sentence for thinking of her. Oh, I might take her back into my heart again i told me he hoped to get the governor's per- l I might conjure her up before my eyes in mission to let me see it alight ; then, grow- ing grave, he seated himself on my stool thsdarkness ! I was no longer a dead in- cumbus, crushing the life out of her dead and said, “ Now, my good follow, I want : body, chilling the life-blood in her heart. I to speak to you upon a subject that I have hitherto avoided in reference to your wishes." “There's no one I should be more loth to deny, sir," I replied. “I am sure you would not wish to speak about that"-â€"I know that it was the past he meantâ€"“ un- ‘ She a prisoner ? could think of her future without that mad~ dcuing sense of impotency. It was in my ll. the effect of my neatly folded blanket with itonigut. You will know the result when the bright tins on each side. " What are you doing of 2" “I’m just looking around my cell and thinking how happy a man may be even in prison." “ Is that all ‘1” he asked,with a suspicious glance. senses at this moment, when they were, as I may say, coming back to me. I woke in the morning with the old buoy- though I had slept but a few hours of the night, I sprang up at once, and was dress out feeling of vigor and freshness; and! ed before the bell rana. It was as if not only life had come back to me, but youth I my lam “. you see him to-morrow. In that way two birds may be killed with one stone, which is advisable, because it seems to be a moot oiut whether the overnor is quite Within is right in accort log you permission to enter into business transactions of this Ireally think I was losing my kind." The next morning I was taken up to the visiting room ; there brought face to face with Mr. Renshaw, a warder standing in the divided space between us. I trembled violently widi excitement ; it seemed hardly possible that my new born hopes could be realized. He began to speak at once about \Vith my hand against my ear I with it. I could almost think myself back lleant forward, listening greedily, fearful of in my home at Feltenham. with a half-fin- ished panel in the workshop that promised to be a real masterpiece when it was done. When. the time came to go down in the yard. I marched off cheerfully with a springy step. My aspect must have chang- ed with this alteration in my feelingsâ€"the lost expression came back to my features, for that morning old Beeton, who I met in the yard, recognised me. I noticed his brows met in perplexity as be scanned my face, and then expand as he jerked his head. I The gesture seemed to say, “ Oh, it’s you, is it?” and I nodded with a grin in reply. I! was no longer afraid to think of the past, or anxious to avoid recollection of the world outside. Two or three days after that, a convict who was drifted into our gang from the road-mending set, in which Beeton worked getting alongside of me, saidâ€" “ Is your name Kit Wyndham, what's got put up for ajob at Richmond '3” “ Yes,” said I. s “ Well old Beeton told me to let you know as he wants to speak to you. He’s got some- thing to tell you about your wife.” CHAPTER XVI. nssrox's TERRIBLE news. I was now trcmulous with excitement to know what Beeton had to tell me. At. times I quaked with apprehension lest the news should be bad. Her secret might have been found out; her father might have cut her off; she might be friendless and in want ; but still a more terrible foreboding lay be- yond these possibilitiesâ€"a foreboding that I dared not to whisper to myself, but was present in my mind, for all that. She might be dead. My hand trembles asI write the words with a recollection of the terror that unnamed suspicion carried to my soul. At other times and more frequentlyâ€"for Hope predominated over Fearâ€"I anticipated better things. Hebe might have charged him with a message of love and comfort to deliver to me. Again and again I tried to get near him in the exercise yard, but all to no purpose, I for though in the fields it was impossible to ‘ prevent communication between prisoners, the rule was rigidly enforced in the prison. There was no alternative but to wait'until a. favorable opportunity came. Meanwhile I was not idle. I In thinking about my lamp it occurred to me that the expansiva force developed by the flame in vaporising the oil or spirit to give light might be employed as a motive power. If the force were thus got direct from the fuel, there would no longer be a necessity to use water as a medium. That Would be an advantage, opening up bound- less possibility in locomotion. Even aerial navigation might be made practicable with l a powerful motor, disencumbered of the Weight of water necessary to produce steam by the old system. Gradually my notion took practicable shape upon my slate. Night after night I worked steadily on, devising, simplifying, improving until at length I be- gun to feel satisfied with the result. The cylinders of my engine I jacketed in the boiler itself to prevent loss of heat by radia- 3 tion. The vapor, after producing the stroke, was carried off by the exhaust to the l furnace, where, in combination with atmos- l pheric air, it produced the beat requisite' for the further development of vapor. The i same governor I had designed for the lamp 4 served to carry off the excess vapor to ul condenser, whence it was returned in a l liquid state to the boiler. By a diaphragm l in the cylinder, and by enclosing every I valve in the boiler itself, there was no pos- sibility of the vapor escaping unused. Here, then, 1131 said, was an engine in which heat wasconverted into motion with the leastpos- siblo waste, capable of being set in motion at once, throwing off neither smoke nor steam, and by its portability applicable to any purpose in which the ordinary steam engine is employed. I had carried my alterations to a point whence I could see nothing left to improve, when the chaplain came to tell me that the governor had acceded to his request, and, that his friend had telegraphed to say that he would come to Prince Town that evening and see me next morning according to the rules of the prison. “I thought it advisable to let you know nothing until the last moment, in case of any hitch," said the chaplain. “ The delay has given .Vlr. chshaw time to consider the affair, and his coming proves that hole pre- ared to make terms with you.” ” I wish I knew how to thank you, sir,” I began. “ But if you knew the light youl have let-in upon my darkened heartâ€" the wonderful joy and happiness I have felt since you changed me from a hopeless, use- less clodâ€"" “If I knew all that I should need no better reward, hey? Well, I’think I do know it," he said, patting me on the power now to lighten her burden. to smooth shoulder “so we will say no more about it. her path, to make life cndurable to her. \V'hat’s this ‘2” What should I do, thought- I, if our relative positions were reversedâ€"if I were free and Assuredly my heart would less you felt it was my duty, to hear what, l ache wheneverI thought of her, and nothing you have to say." " It is your duty. Well, there, you must know that your lamp is worth a great deal of money. The manufacturer who has worked out your ideaâ€"a crsonal friend of mine in whose integrity I ave the utmost confidenceâ€"is prepared to pstent it. and pay you a royalty on all that are sold. It - would seem that. money would be of no use to one in your position : but you and I know better, don‘t we. " Ho tool: my hand and held it in his, speaking with touching earnestness. It was not responsive gratitude that shook my ' frame and thrilled me with an emotion impossible to expressâ€"not the thought of With anythin . and unconlcicusly in the world could console me for her loss ; but I cohld find distraction in travelling abroad, in visiting the cities of Europe, and searching out all that was beautiful in nat. ore and arts. What I might do she also could do if only she had an independent fortune. “ And that she shall havo,‘ said I, shutting up the book and starting to my feet. “ It is in my power to give you that, dear Hebe !" . To be doing something I took down my bedding and rolled it up aneW, polished up my tin vessels, and dusted the cell from end to end. I had never seen my cell look so nice. I was in a humor to be leased fell to such kindness and delicacy being shown by singing anatc es of songs I knew years and a stainless min to acouvicted criminal. that years ago. ' . r in which to me afterso long a silence; it seemed awoke my heart from the torpo Myown voice sounded strange it had wanted so long, driving the hot blood not less astonishing to the warden tingling through my veins, where for fourl years island flowed sluggishly. he nor for one " What's the matter 2” he asked, coming in as I was standing a little way from the He took up my shite to change the subject. “ Why, sir, that’s so 1 ething else for Mr. Renshaw, if he will have it.” “He will have to enlarge his works if you go on this way,” said he, smiling ; " is this another lamp 1'” I told him all about my engine, and he listened attentively, sitting down and ex- amining my drawings as I explained them. “An engine without smoke or steamâ€"- that ought to be taken up by the under. ground railways; they need it badly enough," said he ; “and an engine lighten. ed of water and fed from the nearest oil shop should be acceptable to the Fire Brigade. That's good enough ; your aerial navigators need not be pressed for the moment.” I feared from his tone that he did not re. card my new invention ascapable of serious development ; but he undeceived me on this point when he spoke again. “I am not very good at mechanics : don’t think that my perception oes beyond- lamps; but my friend is an ant , ority upon such matters. and I win .chow him your- losiug a word. He told me that acting on the chaplain‘s authority, he had already protected my invention, and put specimens into the market. “You think it will be a success," I said, . when he paused. "Oh, that is beyond doubt,” he replied. “Orders are already taken for a consider- able number. A suburban tramway company are going to give it a trial : that will be an excellent advertisement. Fifty are wanted for a hat factory in the North. The success, indeed, is so well assured that I am prepared to buy ycur invention right out at once. In your own interest, however, I should advise you to hold your patent and take it royalty on what are sold. I am prepared to give you a couple of hundred in advance if you need a sum for immediate use; further pay- ments to be paid at the half-yearly balancing of accounts.” “Thank you, sir, for your advice” said I. eagerly. “I accept the offer of course. The two hundred pounds down I should like as soon as possible.” “I will draw out the cheque to-morrow ; you have only to let me know what I am to do with it.” The question had never occurred to me how I was to convey the money to my wife. I had not even settled whether I should let her know where the money came from. I did not know her address, or how I was to learn it. “I will let you know where to send the cheque,” said I, after a little consideration. “Meanwhile if you will take care of it for me-il "Certainly, certainly. At the same time if you can give me the name of any friend of yours who will enter into a. legal agree- ment on your behalfâ€"” I told him I knew no one in whose honesty I could place greater trust than his, and that I should be quite content to leave the matter of payment entirely to his sense of justice. “Very good,” said he; “and now with regard to this new invention shown to me by the chaplain. last night. Are you willing to place that in my hands to devel- op in the best way I can ‘2" “With all my heart, sir, if you think favorably of it.” “I do think favorably of itâ€"very favor- ably. Your engine has certain advantages over the ordinary gas engine which should lead to its employment where the other is impracticable. One can never answer be- forehand for inventions of this kind ; but if it answers one’s expectations as well as your lamp has, there is reason to believe that your remuneration will be measured by thousands instead of hundreds.” I hardly know how I went back to my cell; I was intoxicated with the achieve- ment of success, and the prospect of still greater. I was tempted that night to write to my wife and tell her all. “Surely,” thought I, “she will be glad to know of this change in meâ€"-glad to know that I am better and not worse than I was. Will it not enlighten her heart to hear that I have found happi- ness in a prison, just as it would rejoice me to learn that she also had found some such source of joy? To be sure, my long silence, my persxstent refusal to accept letters or hold any communication with her, might have produced the effect I desired when I resolved upon that line of conduct. And if her heart under such treatment had grown callous, and she had become in- difl‘erent to my condition, was it kind or generous to soften that heart again, and revive a hopeless affliction in her dear bosom ‘2” But my own feeling told me that her heart was not hardened and that as long as we lived she must think of me with a mournful longing for some re- turn of her love-,â€"if it were only a written word. These healthier and more natural feelings overcame in the end the morbid sentiments I'had fosteredâ€"one being just as much the result ofa new condition as the other. And I wrote my letterâ€"letting my pen go as my heart dictated, and alter- ing nothing that it occurred to me to say. When I had written my letter and read it through, I was glad, and lay down to sleep with a feeling that I had done right. She will cry over my letter. thought I, just as I should break down if she wrote to me ; but she will be happier afterwards. Those who neither weep nor smile are not the http- pier, as I know well enough. Now how was I to send my letter to her 2 That perplexed me terribly. To send it through Mr. Lonsdale after four years of silencewould inevitablyarouse the suspicion of the vicar's wife, perhaps invoking a dis- cussion which would involve Hebe in new difficulties. It seemed wiserto enclose it in a letter to the major, asking him to for- ward it privately; but I did not know what address to send it to. However, it was prett certain that my friend the chaplain woul help me :so I kept back the letter, with the hope that I should see him in the course of the day. That afternoon it rained so heavily that the outdoor gangs were kept in, and put to work about the prison. I with some more hands were sent in to limewhite the wash- house. A brush and a bucket of white- wash was given to me, and I was sent off to help to do the passage leading to the baths. Some men were already at it ; the wall was marked off into portions,each being the task for one man. “ Number 5’: your lot,” said the warder. I set down my bucket and turned up my sleeves. While I was about this, I cast a glance at my neighbors. To my delight I erceived that the man next to me was old eeton. I can hear the major’s address from him and hear what he has to tell me about Hebe as well, may be. We went each to our buckets for a dip of whitewash at the same moment. He gave me an unmistakable wink, and, taking him- self to the further side of his division, be- gan topaint the wall with the air of an artist born to the trade. “ If he really wanted to speak to me he wouldn’t get as far as possible away," MW“ thought I, as I drew my pail close to his division. go further away. I saw his design. ’ both beginning at the further extremity we must in the end work up side by side, with out fear of being .ut back bya suspicious warden I shifts my position and arried out my part of this manoeuvre. As we got through our work we drew nearer to each other, and before long not within whisper- inc distance. I was the first to begin. “ What is Major Cloveden‘s address 3" I asked. “Why do you want to know 3" “\Vant to send a letter through him to my wife.” He took a slap at the wall with his brush and coming back askedâ€"â€" “ What- are you writing to her about 2" “Sending her some money.” Again he took sale at the wall ; it: seem- ed to be the irresistib e impulse of one who could not otherwise give expression to a feeling ; and his puckered face showed that it was one of amusement. “ Why don't you answer 2” I whispered, angrily, when I got the chance ; “what are you grinning at 2" “You are such a dâ€"d fool l" he replied, with another slap, wagging his wicked old head from side to side. 1 let him reopen the dialogue. . “ Playing into their hands from the first!" he whispered : “I »warned you. I know that major, and the game he was playing ; and I saw through her game, too.” “ What do you mean 2" I gasped. “Mean ‘2 Why the major and your wife were publicly married three weeks after they got you away for life, and they’vo been living together ever since 1” - - (TO BE cosrmmâ€"zn.) PERSONAL. Algernon Charles Swinburne, who is one of the candidates for the laureateship left vacant by the death of Tennyson, resembles some of the preceding laureates. particular- ly Wordsworth and Tennyson himself, in feats of pedestriunism. He likes to take long walks, though he is probably not fond of forty-mile tramps, such as Wordsworth used to take with his sister. Mr, Swin- burne is quite unlike Tennyson in physical ‘ appearance. He is as insignificant as the laureate was imposing, and is as thin as \Vordsworth was. His hair is red, and his whiskers are Parisian. He is said to have the lamented Hannibal Hamlin’s antipathy to overcoats, and goes about without one in the teeth of the southeast winds he likes so well to describe in verse. There was a curious Moslem religious ceremony at the opening of the Jall‘a and Jerusalem railway for traffic. The Jerusalem terminus of the road was decorated with palms, when the Mohammedan priest had offered prayer, three sheep with snow-white fleece and gilded horns were dragged upon the rails and slaughtered. They were left there until the blood had run from their veins and reddeued the ties, and then the locomotive, freed by this sacrifice from the machinations of evil genii, wont pulling out of the Holy City. Augustus J. C. Hare tells an interesting ancedote of Disraeli, who went to Liver- pool, “ a young man all curly and smart,” with letters of introduction to Mr. Duncan Stewart. When he was shown the Ex- change, crowded with busy merchant-s, he said : “ My idea. of greatness would be that a man should receive the applause of such an assemblage as thisâ€"that he should be cheered as he came into this room.” At that time Disraeli remained in the building unnoticed, but when some years later Mr. Stewart again conducted him to the Ex- change a. cheer arose that deepened into a roar. The Prime Minister was greatly pleased by the demonstration, and recalled to his host the remark he had made years before. General Benjamin F. Butler is said to make $100,000 a year from his law placticc, but age is coming upon him with rapid strides, forcing him to give up some of the hard work necessary to earn such an income. He is now nearly seventy-five and visibly older than he was a few years ago. He is very much bent, and his eyesight is poor, but his mind is as keen as when young. For a man of his blull'natu c he had always had a curious weakness for striking clothes. He used to like to wear fur overcoats and cow- boy hats, the latter an adaptation of his army chapeau, but nowadays his tastes are quieter. - Oliver Wendell Holmes, who recently he- came eighty-three years old, had the good fortune, the distinguished honor, as he himself terms it, of being born the same year with Gladstone, Darwin, Tennyson, and Lincoln. The genial doctor, philoso- pher, and poet was very “smart” and activé when his last birthday was cele- brated. His eye was bright and his mind clear, and his sense of humor as seen as when the “Autoerat ” was young. The only literary work which he nowhss in hand is a volume of reminiscences, to which he devotesa brief part of the morning. The remainder of the day is given to the enjoy- ment of life and the preservation of his health. To the latter the aged poet pays close attention, eating simply and regularly, I walking half an hour every day, and driv- ing for two hours, and adding to his night's sleep a short nap during the day in his easy chair. ~-â€"-‘“â€".â€"â€" The Rising Generation. " Pa," said the boy, shaking his head. dubioust as he looked up from his book. “ I’m afraid I can never understand all these words.” “ Tut, tut, my boy,"returned the father, laying aside his paperâ€"“you musn't get discouraged! Once you learn the deb- nitions, you will have no trouble at all un- derstanding how to use them. Take any word on wish.” " ‘ ‘ast,’ ," suggested the boy. “ Yes, 0 course. ‘ Fast means rapid, speedy. Understanding that, you can't make any mistake.” " A fast horse is one that runs, isn't it 3" “ Well, yes, sometimes. You’re begin: ning to understand." _ " But, pa. a fast man generally rides, doesn’t he 2" “ Um, my boy"--aud the old entlomen looked at his son over the top of is lease! â€"“ you're beginning to get technic " “ And a fast colour isone that won’t run, isn't it t” “ There, thereâ€"thaw! do." “ But, ps, I want to' know." " Run out and p”?- lnd don't bother use any more when)"11 re«ding the paper. A jerk of his eyebrows bung}: ‘ “wwwht ., V_ “i 5., $51“ m,,wmm,.,m...w...we... .. .