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"a""" “J , a - “ There will be a stupid jury utterly in- capable of appreciating evidence, and the councel for the petitioner will tell them that he leaves the case with confidence in their hands. never having yet seen or ad- reased twelve more intelligent men. Dear me! It nlmost reminds me of ‘ Pickwick.’ When a jar) man is in doubt, or when he wants to get away, he always finds for the plaintiff. The plnntiif would not have gone to law, he argues with himself unless he knew he was right, and he must know a greet deal more about it than we do. ” We both burst out laughing. Then Mrs. F in. said: “Pray light another cigar M~!iine. Neither ’of usminds. ” ’ “‘ r smoke in the morning.” he “’ Well, he must go his own way. There is no help for it. The faithful Jackson will of course do‘ber dutyâ€"that. is to any. she wxll lie through thick 3nd thin. There will be any number of other witnesses at a few pounds a head to swear to all kinds of things that never happened, and whose evidence will telly as neatly as the pieces of a. Chinese puzzle, when it. has been fitted together by the ingenuity pf counsel. , 1,. 9.. “ I don’t know,” he answered lightly. “I really feel disposed to say for my own part. that miter one or two things which I have seen, and. one or two others that. I know oi, nothing astonishes me. Sir Henry is, to put the matter as mildly as possible. 3 miserable, unhappy old fellow, eaten up with doubts and fears and vanities, as much of his own creation as Falstnfl’il men in buckrum, and entirely Revoid of these re~ deeming points which his use and experience ought to have given him. His morbid vanity would be ludicrous were it. not, as it. huppens. so troublesome. nu “ Did you ever hear anything more mon- strous, more shameful. more outrageous. more downright and abominably mean and éontemptible. and cruel and vindictive in your life?’ asked M rs. F ortescue, stamping her foot by wsy of emphasis at. each im- pormnt adjectiva ... ..... Mr. Sabine (I have before described his keculiar gnu) slouched along to our door flocked. and was shown in. The first. thing to be done was tell him a.“ that. had happened. He listened without. interruption, And with an expression of amusement on his features. answered, gnvely. “Thu,” 1 repliad, shaking my finger at. him, “ is wickedly untrue. We saw you making as you came along, and saw you give your cigar away. " 1 nu- J..- plum-nan- “ There’s a. mm for you my dear ” said Mrs. Fortescue. “I dare any that cigar cost him two shillings org halts-crown; And so, although he has only just begun it, he gives it to thst cabmu, who in: never smoked anything like it before in his life 4nd never will ogain. Now I can that simple, unaffected, kindness from the heart. It has the secret of kindness, which is thoughtfulness. " -§a’ Egg; and {lit a cigar. Common- place as the remark my seem, I cannot. help noticing {new that'it in only your bourgeois , -, ”MM. .- LA .M.M-ml who neids a genuine request :0 be pressed np0n him. As the blue smoke began to curl shout the room, Mrs. Fortescne pro- duced chumptgne. “Quite htrmless, my dear-fake observed, “ if properly qualified.” And she filled up the tumblers with seiner frym a. guogene. ,A,AL__ We were laughing and talking 'toge'ther, when I heard a parley in the passage, and then the steps of a. man on lhe stairs. The door w” opened without. the formality of knocking, andn painfully respectable look- ing mm, about. tifly years of age, with old-rimmed npeclncles, and a silk um- grelln, inado his appearance. u My Ceven ? ” he asked, looking from me to Mrs. Forte-cue. l inclined my hand. “This is for yom. my lady.” And he politely handed me a. piece of paper. “ This gentlumsn, I presume, is M r. Sabine? I thought so. And this in for you. sir. Thu My, i presume, in Mrs. Fortes-me 2 ” “(30 d Havens. mun ! " .bursi. out. \lra. Fortmue, " you’re not going to serve me with sciatica. are you? My poor hus- band has been dead for years.” " No, Mndam. Bu!» I wished to be able to recognize you again. Hood-day, my luly; good-day, minim : goodflay, air.” And wish: bow tint Sir Henry himself might. hue Itudied with ndvnnuge, the stung" withdrew. , ,, g.-- anonlu‘fl of nilence. v . . 3 28.8» “airings! Pop 2.2% a: :39 a one) 212:. I mention this little detail, because it is one of many circum- stances that. will enable my readers to form their own judgment of the man. A fly was pnssing him and he chopped it. A few words passed between him and the driver. Then the msn took the cigar from Mr. Sabine, put it into his own mouth, touched his hat. gratefully, and drove on. ltrsngcr Wham-cw. There were a few seconds of silence. Then Mr. Sabina shook himself, and SAikl very quietly and steadily : “ Do not. allow yourself to be troubled by all this, Lady “ I will‘ watch over ya: from first. to “and the one thing absolute} neces~ my 3!. Mt is that you thong! keep There was shrewd wisdom in what. Mrs. Fortescue had. said : and I began to feel the same reckless spirit again coming over me u that in which I had flung away Sir Henry’s money in Puis. While I was looking over these things, seated in the window and looking down the street, towards the sea, I saw Mr. Sabine coming town-d: use house with a cigar in his mouth. I should beat last, Assuming the very worst, an entirely free woman, as free as the air, still young. and without thebss of asingle soul whom I loved or cued for. ’ 1 had clmngml a state of slavery in whtt wuliule better flan t hovel, under my father, for a slavery in many wuyn more irksome, although the bars of my cage were gilded. Probably Sir Henry would fail in the august tribunal presxded over by Sir James Hmmen. Justice is not always infuflible : but. my cause must. muredly prevuil. In anyfim I should be rid of my father, rid of my husband, sud comfortably pruvsded for (or the remainder of my days. Recollect what. untrauge life mine bud been, and then think how I must have wel- comed the prospect of liberty, even though it. came with unwelcome conditions. Next. morning about. eleven o’clock, Mrs. Forteacue and I Were lining together chat- ting uncut!“- rncdly, and really without any thought or the nutter: that so gravely monaceJ my peace of mind. J at Let all hm] come to accept. the position, and m !t‘z‘ that. at the very worst 1 should be u gainer in certain respects. THE DEAN AND HIS DAUGHTER \'()l.l N0 29 CHAPTER XIII “ Trust me for that,” cried the little wo- man. “ Mr. Sabine is quite right my dear. And now for to-day at any rate we will let this unpleasant matter pass altogether out of our minds. Mr. Sabine, you mustn’t ldme here; you must finuh your cham- pagne and seltzer and go away. Call to- morrow morning. about ten, and if you are very good and penitent, and the weather is very fine, I will go out for a. walk with you myself. We must have no more worry to-day. Now get away at once to the tennis court, or to your yacht, or anywhere you like, and do not trouble us any more. Sufficient for to-day has been the trouble thereof.” Mr. Sabine laughed and took his depar- tm'e. “Now look here, my dear,” again insisted Mrs. Forteseue, “no more Lt“: about this worry. No more shop; we’ve haul quite enough for to-day. I for myself am going to Be happy.” "‘This terrible, this crushing newa, Mir- iam.hu.s reached me from Sir Henry himself. He himself snggestnl~so atleust I gathered from his letterâ€"that I should come down here; I should have done so in any event. It isa. fatal and indelible stain that you have inflicted on the family name. Were your poor mother alive she would never have survived the shock. For myself I am heart-broken; Ishall never again lift up my head. A life that might have been of service under Divine guidance to the Church, and possibly to the State, is hopelessly wrecked. But why should I speak of my- self? My first’duty, my daughter, is to- wards you.”A - I Wu by this time quivering with indig- nation. “How dare you assume my guiit?" I cried out. passionately. “ How dare you do it '3” “Alas, my child,” he said, “the matter is beyond proof ; u is idle to talk of guilt, and innocence, and of proof, where every- thing is knoyn," “It is not. idle !” I answered, now thor- oughly roused ; “and you, who sold me.are the last. person in the world ,who ought. to constitute yourself my judge. You sold me for your own pricemnd you have received it. Now,leave me and go ! As surely as I shall have to answer in this world and in the next, the guiltof all this misery rests with you, and you alone 2" “I repeat. Miriamâ€"â€"-â€"" “Go I" I repeated, and advanced gowards him. I felt. as if 1 were possessed. I could feel the pulses in my head throbbing. I could hear the beating of my heart as dis- tinctly as I heard the stamp of my foot up- on the floor. Utterly regardless of this interruption, mngbher cqgginugglz "Have you. " ’ asked M rs. Fortescne. “And what, may be your own cpinion of your own part of 1L? Take my a. lvice, Mr. Dean, go back to your hotel. Have you not the tact. to see that you are not want.- ed 3" “ I am not addressing my remarks tc you. madam,” interposed the Dean. “ I have my own opminn, as every right- ”linking person must. llifih‘, of your conductâ€"oi the guilty part. you have played m this terxible traggdy.” “ To do what, Mr: St. Aubyu '3" burst in Mrs. Forte-sane. “Do you think your daughter wants you down here pottering and bothering about. like a. bumble bee under a. glass? What good on earth can you do, and who wants either you or you: interference 3” My father looked round helplessly for a. minute, and then, with a. limp effort. to re- tain his dignity. turned round and left the room. lnever before saw him so thoroughly cowed, even in the presence of the most. insistent. and obdurate creditor. He posi- tively seemed toshrink within his canonicals end his limbs trembled under him as be aided himself by the balustrades down into the street. The tension had been too great, and I only remember that, some time afterwards, I found Mrs. Fox-teams aponging my fore- head with Em: de Cologne, and that. the room_was gyiumfiing round me. “Then, Miriam, I must. say that. I have come down with the very deepest pain and grief, and I must also add the very deepest sense of shame and humiliation. 1 know everything ; and no one feels more deeply than myself that the present. is not, mm: for upbraiding. l have come because it in m_y_ sag! durty as p. fame!" tgâ€"tojtoâ€"f” ' I smiled gratefully at her, and she sat down close by me. Then my eyes closed and I suppose I must. have fallen asleep, again; for, when [next remember anything it was to find the room dark. and it was not. unnil I stirred that Mrs. Fortescuemho was still sitting by me,lit the candles, bunt- led about,a.ttending Lathe fire,and her labor concluded, exclaimed triumphantly : “And now, my dear, We’ll have a. nicqquiet even- ing together,with no more bulking or worry. And I shall sleep tap-night! in your room, in case you should want me.” And, ’by way of giving effect to this virtuous resolution, she poked. the fire vigorously, composed herself in an armchair, angbegan to toast her feet. There was another nng at. the door that. afternoon, and there were more steps on the staircase. Even Mrs. F orteanue looked puzzled. “Come in,” she snapped out viciously, u a. knock made itself heard on the door. “Come in, whoever you are.” uNo talking," said the little woman “no talking. I have sent. out. for some sal Volatile, and here. you are. Down with it. and let. me put this cloak over your feet, and than just go to sleep again. If you don’t I shall send out for the doctor. But if you are good, and do as you are told, I will sit here by you and won’t, move until yuu are. 1}! right_again. ” Mr. Sabine, who had not. taken advantage of Mrs. ["01 tescue' s invitation, made his ap- pea‘rance nexcmoming about: eleven o ‘clock, i “'S'u- Henry,"he said, “has his own solicitors. They ar’e, I perceive from the Hi5 gaiters, his buckled shoes, his decan- al coat, his shovel but with its rosette, were faultless. “Dressed for his part, my dear,” as Mrs. Fortescue afterwards most unfecl- ingly observed. “And I do not intefid to sfieak to you alone, papa. [ had much sooner that Mrs. Fortescue remained." and, of course, we bégan almost. immedil utely to dnscuss the cnsis. n‘ ... . . The doc} was opefied again, and the Very Reverend the “can of Southwicx appeared on‘gm threshold upd spgppefl intofihe _room. ‘M'y hither seated himself with solemn dignity, and in his awn way touk up his P39349- ' “Miriam, ” he said, looking at. Mrs. Fortescue, “I wish to speak no you alone.” Ha was not at. all staggered by the re- bufl'. Mrs. Fortescue, describing the in- terview afterwards, claimed the resultas being “first blood" for myself, whgcever that may mean. your mind at ease. Whatever you may do you must. not allow yourself to break down. It. would be fatal to the last degree. M rs. Fortescue must look after you most care- fully.” CHAPTER XIV. I had forgotten to mention money matters ;these gava me an trouble. 1 re- ceived a.- l'etter from Messrs. Nisi, Slow~ coach Absolute, intimating that. in order to avoid any unpleasant application for alimony, they had received instructions from their client to place a thousand pounds to my credit at any bank I might direct; and that, should the hearing or the suit be at all delayed, a. further sum would he at my disposal on any application for it. Thus: than: there was; ndthiug' to do but to wait ; and 'l agreed with Mrs. Fortes- cue that we might as well remain com- fortably at Brighton, as trouble ourselves with a. move or anything like traveling. In this manner nearly six months passed pleasantly and almost rapidly away. Then, after, Easter, came what Mr. Wylie called the snmmersibtings, and the case of Craven 2v Craven and Sabine found its way into the list. and, as Mr. Wylie gave me to under- stand, migh', come on gny day. )4 n “ Sleep, my dear,” she insisted, “ sieep, champagne, and exercise are the three finest. things in the world for the healiih, the temper and the complexion. I believe I should look ninety if I did not dosie my- self with them regularly. 'l‘hey save all your doctor’s bills, and keep you young and happy ever, They are the salad-dressing of life, which without, them, would be a. very sorry diah indeed of very bitter herbs.” Application was made 'to the Court to fix a day for it, with an inmnation that. it. might possibly last two or three days, if not. more. and ultimately a day was ap- pointed towards the end of May. The evening before I came up to town with Mrs. Fortescue, and at. the suggestion of \Ir. Wylie, we took Rod gings together in Sackvflle Street: “Lodgings," said Mr. “ ylie, “look better than an hotel; and Sackville Street 13 sufficiently near the Law Courts, and is 9. most unexceptional locality.” What I should have done without her I hardly like to think ; very possibly some- thing foolish or desperate. But she kept me bright and cheerful in spite of myself ; insisted on taking me out for walks and drives; assured me that dry champagne was better than all the an! volatile in the World, and made me act on the advice, and kept me up chatting at night until she could make sure in her own mind that I was sufliciently tired to go soundly to sleep the momentI went to bed. Sir Henry, of course, could prove noth~ ing at all bearing on the real issue. The Very Reverend the Dean looked the very picture of pateruulsnguish, and with sub- lime ingenuity contrived to give the jury the impression that he had warned me against Mr. Sabine. that he hmd specially come up to London to do so, and had been practically refused admission by me to she house, and told to mind his own business; endâ€"this of courseâ€" that the whole thing would bring his gray hairs with shame and sorrow to the grave. His voice trembled with emotion as he told his story, and the jur_y_ were visibly nfi‘ected. u There was something in his manner that seemed to reassure me, and I made my way back to Brighton in infinitely better spirits than when I left it. There was evidently nothing more to be done, exuepbas Mrs. Fortescue observed, to trust in Providence and keep our powder dry. I really believe that, Mrs. Fortescue would, like Sir Thomas More, have joked upon the scaffold. Meantime, by Mr. Wylie’s advice. Mrs. Forcescue and I re- mained in Brighton, while Mr. Sabine Went away to London. although we heard from him two or three times a week. And I now began to see how much I had misjudged Mrs. Forbescue. In the mo- ment, of trial, when I had imagined she would forsake me, she proved my most staunch and kindest friend. She was with me literally day and night. It is'not my intention to go into the de- tails of the trial. I suppose it was very much like any crials of the same sort. A vast. amount of the evidence was purely formal. The importené wicuess. the one whose evidence decided the case, Was Miss Jack. son. She had evidently kept, a. most care~ ful diary, and her memory was never once at. fault, although, as Mr. Wylie whispered to me, she was far too clever to over- lond herself with details. I knew that it was her regular time to return to Paris, and I pressed her to go. But she answered that. she had alrezul let. her flab, and should consequently stop with She declared that the frequency of_ Mr. Sabine’s Visit had aroused her suspicions; that she had spoken to me on the subject, and had been sharply reprimanded, and told to hold her tongue -, that, without her constituting herself in any way a spy. circumstances had been so recklessly forced upon her notice that she could not help oh- serving them. These circumstances she gave in detail, with a most malignant ingenuity. _ Ultimately, she said she hadfelt it. her duty to communicate with 811' Henry himself, and having done so, had of course left my service. He listened to what I had to any, took notes of in, said he would arrange every de< tail, and give the matter his own personal attention, and so bowed me out. with the assurance that. I should hear from him at. once, if in were necessary for him to see me again. Crag-examination failed to shake her in any way, and I saw that. Mr. Wylie by no means liked the turn which her evidence hag given to the case. -u V‘- r, -93- “You, Lady Craven, had better go to Messrs. Wylie 8:. Wylie, the sharpest firm in London. I will give you a letter of introduction to Heorge Wylie myself. He is about the clevcrest man 1 know in his profession, or out of it, and if he takes up a case, can amnre, will win it if it is to be won. 11 he had gone to the Bar he would have been an Attorney-General long ago. The great advantage of going to him is, when once you are in his hands, you have really no further trouble. He never needs to be stirred up or even jogged. He takes a. pride in his work, and he cun only pursue it for its own sake, for one way or another he_must be by this time a very rich mag." I went. up town accordingly, and saw M r. Wylieâ€"a. sharp-featured Intle man, dressed in perfectly good taste, and with the most exfl-ex‘qe possession 9f mim‘uer‘: Th: other witnesxea on Sir Henry’s side were comparatively unimportant; bus the jury exchanged glances with one another when is was proved by the lawyer's clerk, who served the citation, that. he found Mr. Sabine, Mrs. Fortescue, and myself alto- together in my sitting-room at eleven in the morning, drinking champagne out. of tumblers. Another witness, whom none of us had expected, was a. eontguardsman, who proved that, after dark, I had accompnnied Mr. Sabine on board his yacht, which was lying m the offing, and had stayed on bafil'd at. least a couple of boots. ..' Interesting document with which they have favored me, Messrs. Nisi, Slowcoach Absolute, a very respectable firm in Lin. coln’s Inn Fieldsâ€"just a sort of' firm an Ambassador oughtto employ. I shall have my own solicitor, of course, and a. separate defence. That. is absolutely necessary.” “I know nothing about 'bhese maiters,” I said. “ 0Z1, WAD SOJIE POWER THE GIFTIE G'IE US, TAE SEE DORSELS AS ITIIEIBS SEE US Asked. wheée me yachts and the crew now ()A’IER’IEE. ONT. FRIDAY, JUNE 2:2. 18.94. My own denial was no doubt entitled to their most careful consideration, as also was that of Mr. Sabine, the co~respondenL They could not have shut, their eyes to the fact that, on one side or the other there must. be something very like wilful perjury. in was only their duty to remember the gravity of their issues which they were called upon to determine, and to allow no consideration of the result of their verdict, to influence them in the slightest. degree. How m all this aided thé'bwelve Middle- sex tradesmen who filled the box 1 cannot pretend to say. They were absent for ADORL an hour and a. half, and at. the end ofthat Lime they returned into (‘ourb with their minds made up. An Electric Road That Will Mialn a Speed of 01m Hundred )llles an Hour. The most ambitious railroad project yet planned, if the proposed elevated electric railroad between Washington and New York be accepted, is the construction of an electric line from Philadelphia. to Harris- burg. It is said to be already farsdvanced, and to require for its realization only the connecting of a number of small local lines, some of which are now completed and in operation. The project, it is stated. has the support of the Pennsylvania. Railroad Company, and the line, when in running order, will be operated by that corporation. If there is anything Utopian about the scheme it is the announcement that the promoters expect to attain a speed of not less than one hundred miles an hour, and that only through trains will be run. This is precisely wherein the expectations are apt to be disappointed. No electric motor cars have yet been constructed which can rival steam locomotives in speed. .Then, too, the transmission of powerful electric currents, such as would be needed to whisk along a heavy train of cars without too greatu loss over long distances, is still an incomplete problem. Mrs. F onescue’s evidence was too nega- five to be of much service in enabling them to make up their minds. As far as it went it was in my favor, but it: went a very little way. If, his lordship told the jury, they be- lieved. the evidence of Miss Jackson, then, of course, them was an end of the whole matter, and it, was for them to say whether they believed her. If she was telling the xrubh, she was only discharging a. painful duty. If she was telling falsehoods, they must conclude that, she was doing so out of the most. pure and wanton nmlignity, inas- much as it. had not. even been suggested for a. moment that I had in any way done any- thing to arouse in her a. feeling of revenge. Whéro trutlic is heavy, as in cities, elec- tric car lines are an undoubted commercial success. but the transmission of large quan- tities of freight. at much lower rates involv- es some hitherto undeveloped features. The greater probabilities are that at some time in the future, with the extension of waterways, there will be a. division of traffic, but not such as is now regarded as the most feasible. It is altogether likely that heavy slow freight willeeek the canals as the cheapest method of transportation. Electric cars, being economical for short distances, will afford the means of travel between points not remote from each other, while to railroads, us their share, will fall the through passenger trntlic. Such a. di- vision is regarded as the logical outcome of carrying facilities by men who have made a. close study of recent developments in this field of enterprise. ‘ Mrs. Fortescue puzzled Sir Henry’s counsel extemely. It. was admitted that she had been staying with me, with Sir Henry’s consent. and that. she consequently enjoyed his confidence. The summing up was a. very lucid recapib ulucion of the evidence, coupled with when. cermjnly seemed to me a somewhat, feeble running comment. She declared that, with the exception of the one visit to the yacht, she did not be- lieve I had been out, of her sight, the whole time that we were at. Brighton: and, as she afterwards said herself, the more they pressed her With questions, the less change they got out of her. Terrible as the crisis was, I enjoyed hear- ing things said of my father which 1 had often felt, but, never been able to express. And when he spoke of my unhappy girl- hood without a. mother’s cure, and without companions. and invited the jury to believe that. I was, in reality, more ignorant. of the world and of its conventions than any vil- lage school girl could be, I did not need Mr. Wylie L0 whisper to me that. the case was magnificently put. This practically ended the case, although I can even now recollect, the vigorous and magnificently brilliant speech which my counsel made in my behalf, and in which, I am pleased to say, he did not at all go out of his way to consider the feelings of the Dean of Southwick, or even to spare him unnecessary pain. Mr Sabine made, as Mr. Wylie remlrked to me, an admirable witness. Th is! piece of evidence was, of course, strictly true, and 1 did not. need \Ir. \Vylie to be“ me that. it produced a. very unfavor- able impression. After this, even I had sufficient. sense to see that, the case was virtually over. I was called, and I, on my ouch, denied the ahmneful charge bronght against me. And I do not. think Lhzw I was more uervousar heaicating than might, have been expected under cross‘examimbion. But I could not tell, instinctively, that; the jury did not. believe me. Leaves of Trees as Fodder. The United States‘ Consul at Chemnitz in a recent report, describes the experiments made by farmers on the Continentlastyear to feed their cattle on the leaves of trees. The French, he says, have taken the lead in the movement. They recommend exclusively the leaves of the hazel, aspen, ash, elm willow. The leaves, after being gathered, are spread on the barn floor to the depth of three to four inches, and are turned once a day. They dry in from three to five days, according to the weather. When dry they are piled up ready for use. It is profitable to prepare each day’s supply 24 hours bo- iore hand. There is mixed With the leaves to be served each day a. small amount of chopped-up turnips, leaving the whole to ferment. Just before feeding, clover, hay, or lucerne is sometimes added. This food has been especially good for milch cows. Young shoots and branches of trees, vvith~ their new leaves, are picked off every _hve years and given to sheep. These animals are very fond of the aspen, because of its resinous and sv‘veet buds. Willow leaves and bark mixed with cats are regarded as a very pleasant, nutritious, and strengthening food for horses. were, he replied that, to the beat, of his be- lief, they were now in the Mediterranean, but that the yacht had sailed shortly after my visit to her.‘ THE FUTURE OF RAILWAYS. (To m: éox'rmmn.) A city of marble was Cesareaâ€"wharves of marble, houses of marble, temples of marble. This being the ordinary archi- tecture of the place, you may imagine some- thing of the splendor of Governor Felix’s residence. In a room of that palace, fioo' tesselated, windows curtained, ceiling fret- ted, the whole scene affluent with Tyrian purple, and statues, and pictures, and carv- ings, sat a very dark-complexioned man by the name of Felix, and beside him a woman of extraordinary beauty, whom he had stolen by breaking up another domes- tic circle. She was only eighteen years of age, a princess by birth, and unwittingly waiting for her doomâ€"that of being buried alive in the ashes and scorin: of Mount Vesuvius. which in sudden eruption, one day put an end to her abominations. Well 1 one afternoon Drusilla seated in the palace, l weary with the magnificent stupidities of the place, says to Felix, “You have a very distinguished prisoner, I believe, by the name of Paul. Do you know .he is one of my countrymen '? I should vezy much like to hear him speak, for I have heard so much about his eloquence. Besides thatthe other day, when he was being tried in another room in this palace, and the windows were open, I heard the ap- plause that greeted the speech of Lawyer Tertullus, as he denounced Paul. Now, i very much wish 1 could hear Paul speak. Won’t you let me hear him speak?” “Yes,” said Felix, “I will. Iwill order him up now from the guard room.” Clank. clank comes a chain up the marble stair- way and there was a shuttle at the door, and in comes Paul, a little old man, pre- maturely old through exposureâ€"only sixty years of age, but looking as though he were eighty. He bows very courteously before the Governor and the beautiful woman by his side. They say, “Paul, we have heard a great deal about your speaking : give us now a specimen of your eloquence.” ()h i if there ever was a chance for a man to show off, Paul had a. chance there. He might have haranguod them about (irr- cian art,about the wonderful watcrworksho had seen at Corinth, about the Acropolis by moonlight, about Prison life in Philippi, about “What 1 saw in Thessalonicu,” about the old mythologios ; but “No 7”, Paul said to himself, “I am now on , my way to martyrdom, and this mun and woman will soon be dead, and this is ‘ my only opportunity to talk to them about the things of eternity." And just there and then, there broke in upon the scene a J peal of thunder. It was the voice of judg- ment day speaking through the words of the decrepit apostle. As that grand old mis- sionary proceeded with his remarks, the stoop begins to go out of his shoulders” and he rises up and his countenance is illu- mined with the glories of a future life, and his shackles rattle and grind as he lifts ; his lettered arm, and with ithurls upon his i abashed auditors the bolts of God’s indig- ‘ nation. Felix grew very white about the, lips. His heart beat unevenly. He put 1 his hand to his brow, as though to stop the l quickness and violence of his thoughts. He drew his robe tighter about him as undera sudden chill. His eyes glare and his knees ‘ shake, and, as he clutches the side of his : chair in a very paroxysm of terror, he orders the sherifl‘ to take Paul back to the ‘ guard-room. “Felix trembled, and said, j Go thy way for this time; when I have a convenient season, I will call for thee.” A , young man came one night to our services, with 'pencil in hand, to caricature the whole scene. and make mirth of those who should express any anxiety about their souls ; but I met him at the door, his face very white, tears running down his cheeks, as he said, “ Do you think there is any chance for me '3” Felix trembled, and so may God grant it may be so with others. I propose to give you two or three reasons why I think Felix sent Paul back to the guard-room, and adjourned thiswholesu bject of religion. The first reason was, he did not want to give up his sins. He looked around: where was Drusilla. He knew that when he became aChristian. he must send her back to Amzus, her lawful husband, and he said to himself. “ I will risk the destruction of my immortal soul, sooner than I will do that.” How many there are now who cannot get to be Christians because they Will not zihandon their sins! In vain all their" prayers and all their church-going. You‘ cannot keep these darling 81:18 and win heaven ; and now some of you have to de. cide between the wine-cup, and unlawful amusements, and luscivious gratification on the one hand, and eternal salvation on the other. Delilah sheared the locks of Sam- son ; Salome danced Herod into a pit; Drusilla blocked up the way to heaven for Felix. Yet when I present the subject now I fear that some of you will say, “Not quite yet. Don’t be so precipitate in {your demands. I have a. few more tickets‘ yet that I have to use; I have a. few more engagements that I must keep. I want to stay a. little longer in the whirl of convivialityâ€"s. few more guffaws of unclean laughter, a. low more steps on the road to death, and then, sir, I will listen to what you say. “ Go-thy way for this time ; when I have a convenient season, I will call for thee.” Felix. llm Roman Gavel-mgr, l-‘onm flu- thjecl. M an Interesting Discourse by Dr. Tummy-Jr You urn- Gum! to he Saved Ever. Why NM Ill-2m 'l‘uâ€"N'lzm ‘3 BROOKLYN, June 10.â€"â€"l{ev. Dr. 'l’al- mage, who is now speedingacross the Pacific to Honolulu,on his round-the-world journey , hag selected as the subject for sermonic dis- course through the press to-du.y, “The Ex- cited Governor," the text being taken from Acts ‘24. 25: “Felix trembled and answer- ed,Go thy way for this time ; when I have a. convenient season I will call for thee.” THE DANGER 0F PROCRASTINATION IN REGARD TO RELIGION. Another reason why Felix sent Paullmck to the guard-room and adjourned this sub. ject was, he was so very busy. In ordinary times he found the afl'airs of state absorb. ing. but those were extraordinary times. The whole land was ripe for insurrection. The Sicnrii, a. band of assassins, were already rowling around the palace, and I suppose e thought, “I can't nttendtorelig- ion while I am so pressed by affairs of state.” It was business, among other things, that ruined his soul, and I suppose there are thousands of people who are not children of God because they have so much business. It is business in the store, losses, THE EXCITED GDVEEEUE I never saw the honors of this world in their hollowness and hyprocrisy so much as in the life and death of the wonderful man, Charles Sumner. As he went toward the place of burial, even Independence Hall, in Philadelphia, asked that his remains stop there on their way to Boston. The flags were at half-mast, and the minuteguns on Boston Common thmbbed after his heart had ceased to beat. “'21:; it always so '3 While he lived, how censured of legislative n-solutions. how caricatured of the pictor lztlS: how charged with every motive mean and ridiculous: how ztll the urns of scorn and hatred and billingsgate emptied upon his head; how, when struck down in Senate Chamber there were hundreds of thousands of people who said, “Good for him, served him right l" how he had to put the ocean between him and his maligners. that he might have :1 little peace, and how, when he went oll' sick, they said he was broken- heurted because he could not get to be President or Secretary of State. 0h, Com- monwealth of Massachusetts 3 “ho is that man who sleeps in your puhlio hall. cover- gains, unfaithful employee. It is business in your law officeâ€"subpoenas, writs you have to write‘ out, papers you have to file, arguments you have to make. It is your medical profession, with its broken nights, and the exhausted anxieties of life hanging upon your treatment. It is your real estate olfice,your business with landlords and ten- ants and the failure of men to n'ieet their obligations with you. Ah, with some of those who are here it is the annoyance of the kitchen, and the sitting-room and the parlorâ€"the wearing economy of trying to meet large expenses withasmall income. Ten thousand voices of “business, business, business,”,drown the voices of the Eternal Spirit, silencing the voice of the advancing judgment day, overcoming the voice of eternity ; and they cannnot hear, they cannot listen. They say, “Go thv way for this time.” Some of you look upon your goods, look upon your profession, you look upon your memorandum books, and you see the demands that are made this very week upon your time and your patience and your money -, and while I am eutreating you about your soul and the danger of procrastination you say, “ Go thy way for this time: when I have a convenient season I will call for thee.” Oh, Felix, why be bothered about the affairs of this world so much more than about the afi'airs of eternity? Do you know that when death comes you will have to stop business, though it be in the most eXacting period of itsâ€"between the payment of the money and the taking of the receipt? The moment he comes you will have to go. Death waits for no man, however high, however low. \Vill you put your office, will you put your shop in comparison with the affairs of an eternal world? Affairs that involve thrones, palaces, dominions eternal? Will you put two hundred acres of ground against immensity? “'1'“ you put forty or fifty years of your life against millions of ages? Oh, Felix! you might better postpone everything else 1 For do you not know that the upholstvring of 'l‘yriau purple in your palace will fade; and the marble blocks of Cesarea will crumble, and the breakwater at the beach, made of great blocks of stones six feet long, must give way before the perpetual wash of the sea ; but the redemption that Paul oli'crs you will be forever? And yet, and yet, and yet you “ave him back to the guard-room saying, “ (:0 thy way for this time; when 1 have a convenient season will call for thee.” Again Felix adjourned the subject of religion, and put, 05 Pam’s argument, be- cause he could not. givu up the honors of the world. He was afraid somehow, he would hncompromised himself in this mattfir. Re- marks he made afterwards showed him to be handy ambitious. Oh, how he hugged the favor of men 2 ml with gnrlahds, and wrapped in the Stars and Stripes ‘.‘ is that the man who, only a fe .v months before, you denounced as the foe of Republican and Democratic institutions. Is that the same man ‘2 Ye American people? ye could not, by one week of funeral eulogium and newspaper leaders, which the dead senator could neither read nor hear, atone for twenty-five years of maltreatment and caricature. When I see a man like that. pursued by all the hounds of the poli- tical kennel so long as he lives, and then buried under a great pile of garlands, and amidst the lamentations of a. whole nation, I say to myself: “ What an unutterabiy hypocritical thing is all human applause and all human favor! You took twenty- iive years in trying to pull down his fame, and then take twenty-five more in trying to build his monument.” My friends, was there ever a. better commentary on the hollowness of all earthly favor? If there are young men who read this who are post- poning religion in order that they may have the favors of this world, let me per- suade them of their complete folly. If you are looking forward to gubernatorial, senatorial or presidential chair, let me show you your great mistake. Can it be that there is new any young men saying, -“Let me have political oiiice, let me have some of the high positions of trust and power, and then I will attend to religion ; but not now. ‘ Go thy way for this time: when I have u. convenient season 1 will call for thee ! ”’ And now my subject takes 8. deeper tone, and it shows what u. dancerous thing is this deferring of religion.“ hen Paul’ a chain rattled down the marble suits of Felix, that was Felix 5 last, chance for heaven ; Judging from his character afterward. he was repmbatc and abandoned. And so was Drusilla. One «lay in Southern Italy there was a trembling of the earth, and the air got black with smoke inter-shot with liquid rocks,und Vesuvius ruined upon Drusilla and neon her son a. horrible tempest of ashes and tire. They did not reject religion ; they only put it off. They did not understand that that day, that that hour,whcn Paul stood before them, was the pivotal hour upon which everything was poised, and that it tipped the wrong way. Their convenient season came when Paul and his guardsmen enter- ed the. palace ;a.nll it went awuv when. Paul and his guardsmen left. Have you never seen men waiting for tL convenient season ? There is such a great fascination about it, that though you may have great respect to the truth of Christ, yet somehow there is in your soul the thought, “Not quite yet. It is not time for me to become a. Christian.” I say to a boy, ”Seek Christ.” He says, “No ; wait till I get to he a. young men." I say to the young man; “Seek Christ.” He says; “ Wait until I come to mid-life.” I meet the same’ man in mid-life . and I Buy, “Seek Christ.” He says, “ Wait until I get ‘old.’, I meet the same person in old age. and say to him. “ Seek Christ.” He says, "Wait until 1 am on my dying bed." I am called to his dying couch. His last moments have come. I bend over his couch and listen for his last. words. 1 have par- tially to guess what they are by the motion of his lips, he is no feeble, but. rallying himself, he whispers, until I'can hear him say, “Iâ€"nmâ€"waitingâ€"for a moreâ€"con- venientrâ€"‘aeason”â€"arid he is gone. I can tell you when your convenient season will come. I can tell you the year â€"it‘. will be in 1894. I can tell you what kind ofaday it. will beâ€"it; will be the Sabbath day. 1 can tell you what. hour ib will beâ€"it will b9 becween eight and ten The otficial reports places the number of killed at. 180, with 20 persons fatally injured. The rescue party which perished this morning was composed of ten persons. hourbeen bodies have already‘ oeenx‘ecover. ed. There were five distinct explosions, the last one happening shortly after one o’clock this morning. The galleries of the mine are still on fire, and the recovery of Lhe bodies of the miners killed is thus re- tarded. It is believed that. the majority of the bodies of the killed will be consumed by fire. Two Hundred Miners Killedâ€"The Pits on Fire and the Bodies or the Dead (In. mated. A Vienna. despstch says :â€"â€"A terrible disaster, involving great loss of life, is re- ported from Kerwin, Silesia. Full details have not reached here up to the time this despatch is sent, but it is believed that at least 200 miners have been killed. An explosion took place at ten o’clock on Friday night in the pit of the Franziska mines at the place mentioned, and resulted in the desth of 1:30 miners. The tirst ex- plosion was almost immediately followed by a series of other explosions in the mines, the most disastrous of the latter being in Johannes’ pit, where 80 miners were killed. A rescue party which descended into one of the pits at five o’clock this morning, also perished. The van silstor shafts of several of the pits were destroyed, and fire spread in all directions. Terrible excitement pre- vails in the neighborhood of the pits where the miners have been killed. Assistance has been sent to the scene of the disaster from all directions. The Franziska and .lohonnes’ mines are owned by Count van Lnrish . May God Almighty forbid that any of you, my brethren or aisters, act the part of Felix and Drusilla, and put away this great subject. Iiyou are going to be saved ever, why not begin to-night? Throw down your sins and take the Lord’s pardon. Christ has been trumping after you many a. day. An Indian and a. white man be- came Christians. The Indian, almost as soon as he heard the Gospel believed and was saved; but the white man struggled on in darkness for a long while before he found light. After their pea :e in Christ, the white man said to the Indian, “ Why was it that I was kept so long in the dark- ness, and you immediately found peace?” The Indian replied, “ Iwill tell you. A prince comes along, and he offers you a. coat. You look at your coat, and you say. ‘ My coat is good enough,’ and you refuse his ofl‘er ; but the prince comes along and offers me the coat, and I look at my old blanket and I throw that awxrv. lunl take his offer. You sir,” continued the Indian, “ are clinging to your own righteousness, you think you are good enough, and you keep your own righteousness ; but I have nothing, nothing, and so when Jeans oEera me pardon and peace, Isimply take it.” My reader, why uotnow throw away the worn- out blanketof your sin and take the robe of a. Saviour’s righteousnessâ€"a rohe so white, sofair, so lustrous, that no fuller on earth can whiten it ‘3 Oh, Shepherd Io-night bring home the lost sheep ! Uh, Father. to-night give a. Welcoming kiss to the wan prodigal ‘.' ()h, friend of Lazarus, to-night break down the door of the sepulchre, and say to all these dead souls as by irriutible flat , “ Live! Live 1” About forty ants out of five hundred stepped out and joined the leader. The general and his aids held a. council, and then proceeded to examine the circle of molasses. Certain portions of it eemed to be assigned to the dill'ereut ants, and each selected unerringly the points in the section under his charge where the stream of molass- es was narrowest. Then the leader made his tour of inspection. The order to match was given, and the ants all made their way to a. hole In the wall, at which the plaster- ing was loose. There they broke ranks, and set about carrying pieces of plaster w the place in the molasses which had. been agreed upon as the narrowest. To and fro they went from the nail-hole to the molass- es, until at 11:30 o’clock, they had thrown a bridge across. Then they formed them- selves in line again, and marched over, and by 11:45 (way out of the foraging expedi- tion was contentedly eating pie. After an Expedlllon In Force They [can on l'lc. ‘ The following story, told by an eye-wit- ness, is entitled to a place among the in- stances of intelligence among the lower an- imals. A cook was much annoyed to tied his pastry shelves attacked with ants. By careful watching it was discovered that they came out twice a. (lay in search of toad, at about seven in the morning and four in the afternoon. How were the pies to be protected against the invaders? He did not have long to wait, for at 6:50 o’clock he noticed that off in the leftnhand corner of the pantry was a line of ants slowly making their way in the direction of the pies. They seemed like a. vast army coming forth to attack an enemy. In front was slender- who Was larger than any of the others, and who always kept a little ahead ofhis troops. They were of the sort known as the medium sized red ant, which is regarded as the most intelligent af its kind, whose scienti- fic name is funnies rubra. o’clock. In other words. it 18 now. Do you ask me how I know this is your con- venient season? 1 know it, because you are here, and because the Holy Spirit is hero, and because the elect; sons and daughters of God are praying for your redemption. Ah, Iknow it. is your convenient season because some of you, like Felix, nrembie as all your past life comes upon you with its sin, and all the future life comes upon you with its terror. This night air is aglow with torches to show you up or to show you doWu. In is rustling with wings to lift. you- into light, or smiw you into de spair, and there is a. rushing to and fro and a beating egainst the door of your son?' as With urgreawhunder of emphasis, Malling your “Kw; no'wi is the best time, as in may be thaoniy 'time.” ‘ Friendâ€""Whab are you at now ‘3" Inventorâ€"“G reatest thing of the age. . Zillion: in it, ! I am making a. steam man- regular man, all iron and steel, with steam as the motive power.” “Can he' draw a wagon 2” “Nâ€"-o,1’m afraid not." “Carry burdens, perhaps?” “Nâ€"o, he’d upset." “Might row a. boat, maybe ‘2” “Too heavy.” “Might fix him so he could tend the fur- “I shall rent. him out to break in new shoes." “ ,ouldn’t. possibly.” “01' carry the baby?" “Too risky.” “Then what in creation will he be good for? Where are the millions to come in '3” Jon“ 1‘. nut. . «nus. W. RICHARDS t ““"Mon- A Friend of Humanity. AWFUL DISASTER. F0 RAGING ANTS.