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CHAPTER XV. g palior of complexion Whit . It is perha ’ > [)3 tune that the reader - .. .. . :rrr unre. he had student , , a Mild know a little of the ancient ' ii? face. 313 history was a euthaniz- ' . H posseseed acadeâ€" 50'1810 and locality where many of the. POPSOnages of whose history these Tina had in his you We" treat. fined. and moved, and had . himself gre their bemg. c'assical end a ma The Abbe ‘ .~ , ' Q \i'hen uite Dung. . Y House, so callel, was 1:) i througg the lynfluence of a rent-101.1. to living. reaiity that part of the monastery ' . ! h. e t Whlflh had been devoted to the “50 0‘ “3:3 [3:3de and the (F0 successive generations of priors. It small indeed. Fm . ' ‘. ' . . â€"' f xertion' he Shut .hlmself up a: like _the Arm‘ns that I”: to Its rear. 3:311 gig (hooks. having his! httle round - . . u-.- a-.. mlnrgmon. and nev: 4-- ---.A The Abbey House, 30 called, was in reality that part of the monastery Which had been devoted to the use of successive generations of priors. It was, like the ruins that lay to its rear. entirely built of gray masonry. rend- ered grayer still by the lichens that fed upon its walls, which were of ex- ceeding strength and thickness. It FM a long. irregular building. and roofed with old and narrow tiles. which from red had in the course of ages. faded to sober russet. The banquet- hag-hall was a separate building at its _ LL- vept some unwed-"6., a--- a colossal figure of a mon cut out of I the solid heart of an oak. and supposed ; to be the effigy of a prior of the abbey . who died in the time of Edward I. Beâ€" ’ .low the church again, and about onei hundred and fifty paces from it. was; the Vicarage. a comparatively modern} ‘ ' no architectural‘; attraction. and evidently reared out of 3 the remains of the monastery. i At the south end of the Abbey House ‘ itself lay a small grass plot and pleasfi are garden fringed with shrubberies.§ and adorned with two fine cedar-trees. One of these trees was at its further extremity. and under it there ran a path cut through the dense shrubbery. This path. which ° ' - and called the “Tunnel W alk." led to the lake. and dehouched in the little d Caresfoot'a Staff. The lake itself was a fine plece of waâ€" w” an-u v. v..- w _v‘ northern end. and connected with the . main dwelling by a covered way. The “part of the house was westerly. and we front windows looked on to an ex- panse of park-like land. heavily timb- ered with oaks of large size. some of them pollards that might have pushed their first leaves in the time of Wil- liam the Conqueror. In spring their vivid green was diversified by the red- dish-brown of a double line of noble walnut-trees. a full half mile in length marking the track of the carriage-drive Inst led to the Roxham high-road. ' Behind the house lay the walled gar- den. celebrated in the time of the monks as being a fortnight earlier den. which was a little less than a hun- dred paces long. the visitor reached the scattered ruins of the old monasâ€" tery that had for generations served as a stone quarry to the surrounding villages. but of which enough was left. including a magnificent gateway. to 'ts former extent. Passing on through these. he would come to an enclosure that mark- ed the boundaries of the old graveâ€" yard. now turned to agricultural uses. ind then to the church itself. a build- ing with a very fine tower. but posses~ chi he] ‘ he} structed by the monks. meas full mile round. and from fifty to two hundred yards in width. It was in the shape of a man's shoe. the heel facing ‘ thq went like the house. but projecting be« to] yond it. the narrow part representing 3 1 C the hollow of the instep.. being exacb- I! :1: I; opposed to it. and the sole swelling 3 0t] nut in an easterly direction. lwa Bartham Abbey was altogether aisu tine old place. but the most remarkable l 1:? thing about it was its air of antiquity g 2m and the solemnity of its peace. It did t I not. indeed. strike the spirit with that i “1 religious awe which is apt to {all upâ€"i on us as we gaze along the vaulted E .19 aisles of great cathedral-s. but it zipâ€"g to st en at to l m r "’ ‘ 1t; x-tive side i i . . It generation that house had been , home of men like ourselves; they had I " passed and were forgotten, but it reâ€"; F" mained. the sole witness of the stories- . . of their lives. Hands of which the l} very liones had long since crumbled?“ into dust had planted those old oaks i te and walnuts. that still donned their '. 0‘ green robes in summer. and shed them} ‘ in the autumn. to_ stand great skele-1 . tons through the Winter months. await-; ;? ing the resurrection of the spring. 1 . .. ‘ **~--~â€"- LL.‘ n'nnr) and irQ HlIf-l 'J. home of men like ourselves; passed and were forgotten, ! mained. the sole witness of t'. of their lives. Hands of \ very bones had long since iutu dust had planted those and walnuts. that still don green robqs in summer. and : Ln "On-‘1‘ fir ufi‘here lay upon the plane and its an r- mumling‘s a burden of dead lives, in- tangible. but none the less real. The air was thick with memories, as sug- tive as the gray dust in a vault. en in the summer. in th efull burst of nature reveling in her strength, the place was sad. But in the winter. when the wind came howling through the groaning trees. and drove the gray send across an ashy sky. when the birds were dumb. and there were no cattle on the sodden lawn. its isolated melancholy was a palpable thing. 2 ““L t‘““ “AA“ ulrvluuuuVaJ '7‘... w l'" r v 'l‘hat hoarg house might have been a gateway o the dim: land we call the Past. looking down in stony sorrow on the follies of those who so soon must uross its portals. and. to the wise who could hear the lesson. pregnant with echoes of the warning voices of many generations. ___A- LLAL A $1.41- "“1111, “n 6V“- ""v Here it was that Angela. grew up to womanhood. m oxorcise. °A tall and aomaw‘hat. nervous-look- ing nun. with dark eygs. a sensitive mouth. and that poculur stoop gnd .uv "V “-v' 1e narrow part representing 1 I cannot see them; and. I want so very gmuch to see them. 1 hOpe it is not _ ° te ),, being exact~ 0‘ .th“ “1“? ti: 80m smellingywrong. but I told my father so the to it. and. e -. {other day. and he. turned white and easterly direction. 3 was angry wnth Pigott for giving me I Abbey was altogether a i 511%!) gleam but you know Pigott did. . st remarkable ' "9 give em 0 “.19 at 3.1L. 1 am not EM 6.. but. the [no i ti nit ! (uraui to come; I hke 1t, 1t, 13 80 qulet, it it was its air 0 an (1 “Y 3 and. if; one listens enough in the quiet blemnity of its peace. It did i {l glwatji'ls tthulllk one may hear some« , ‘ 'ke the « irit with that: v 15118 3 0t er peOpie do not hear." ins“: H,‘ “at: D, L.) “:1 “1". “Do you hear anything. then ’3" we .. U“ 1 f ~ I j. . ‘ _‘ ~: Yes. 1 hear thingsmut I cannot un- ue gktze along the V21.UHE‘-*t;‘lerstund them. Listen to the wind in great cathedrals. but it zipâ€"é! thet bilggneltes'of that tree, the chest- ' ‘3. . 1 1 stren rth to 3 mi. m wuenothefieai ls falling now. ”Mi" w‘u’ 8‘1 19‘ . I“? ; it says something. If only 1 coum catch ' and more reflevticve Side of , it .. .‘rLAI‘ was altogether a the most, remarkable 3 its air of antiquity V'- ‘Ivv- â€"___ er sought to emerge trom we qt...” -_ hlS aimless .studies to struggle for fame and place 1 Fraser was What people call an able his shy, sensitive nature a little bet- ter, they would have understood that he was infinitely more suited for the ' aoeiul lot in life which he had chosen. than to become a unit infinite labor they store up the fields of knowledge. collect endless data from the statistics of science. pile up their calculations against the very , .11 cu nu anti AS a rule, up their calcula stars; and all to no end. As a rule. they do not write books: they gather the learning for the learning's sake. and for the very love of it rejoice to count their labor lost. And thus they go on from year to year. until the golden. bowl is broken And the pitcher Luna“ ..+ +hp fmmmin. and the gath- they do not write books: they gamer the learning {or the learning'ssake. and for the very love of it rejoxce to count their labor lost. And thus they go on from year to year. until the golden. bowl is broken and the pitcher broken at the fountain. and the gath- ered knowledge sinks. or appears to sink. back to whence it came. Alas! that one generation canno on its wisdom and experienceâ€"more especially its experienceâ€"to another. in its perfect form! If it could. we men should soon become as gods. It was a. mild evening in the latter and M nnfnher when Mr. Fraser start- It was a mild evening in the latter end of October when Mr. Fraser startâ€" ed on his walk. The moon was up in the heavens as he. an hour later. made his way from the side of the lake. where he had been wandering: back to the churchyard through which he had to pass to reach the Vicarage. Just before he came to the gate. however. he was surprised. in such a solitary spot. to see a slight figure leaning against the wall Opposite the place where lay the mortal remains of the old squire and his daughter-in-laW. Hilda. He stood still and watched; the figure appeared to be gazing stead- fly at the graves. Presently it turn- ed and saw him. and he recognized the great gray eyes and. golden hair of little Angela Caresfoot. _-_ â€"A.. An A §§Z 63”ng {Ha-lg}; she shook hands rather awkwardly wit}; 131m. 3 I IJCD uua Luvuu‘ v "Don t be angry wiEh die " She said. in a deprecatory voice; “but 1 was so lonely this evening that. I came here for company. ‘1’] -L ,I,‘ lltzbl O nu BV‘" vw yum â€"â€" v “Angela, my dear. what. are you (10â€" mg here at this time of night? he asked. in some surprise. tilt vvturwul - "Came here for company 2 What. do you mean 3” She hung her head. “Come." he said. “tell me what you mean." tell you?" He looked more puzzled than ever. and she observed it and went on: “I will try and tell you, but you must not be cross like l’igott when she cannot understand me. Someâ€"- times I feel ever so much alone, as though 1 was looking for something and could not find it. and then 1 come and stand here and look at my moth- er's grave, and I get company and am not lonely any more. That is all 1 know; .1 cannot tell you any more. Do Y9! thlpls me silly? Pigott does." ' “I think you arm a wig strange child. Are you not afraid to come 116ij {done at: night !" “Afraidâ€"oh, no! Nobody comes here after dark. because they say that the nuns are full of spirits. Jakps told me that. But I must be stupld; “Yes, child, yes, you are right, in a. way; all Nature tells the same eternal gale, if our ears were not stepped. to gas voices." he answered, with a. 51gb; lugieed, the child’s talk had struck a ve}n of. thought familiar to his own mind. and, what. is more, it deeply in- terested him; there was a quaint, far- off wisdom in it. “It is pleasant toâ€"nig‘nt. is it not. :til‘. Eraser!” said tne little maid, “though exerything is dying. 'lhe things die soltly without any pain this year; last year they were all Killed in 1hr rain and wind. Look at that cloud floating across the moon, is it not beautilul 1! 1 wonder what it is the shadow ol’; 1 think all the clouds are shadows of something up in heaven.” “And when there are no clouds “.3” "Oh! then heaven is quite still and happy ' , "But heaven 13 always happy." “Is it? 1 don’t unnerstand how it can be always happy if we go there. Ehere must be so many to be sorry or.” Mr. Fraser mused a little; that last remark was difficult to answer He looked at the fleecy cloud, and, fall- ing_ into her humor. _said:_ “I think your cloud is the shadow of an eagle carrying a lamb to its little ones." ‘ .“And I think," she answered; con- fxdentJy. “that it is the shadow of an angel _carrying a_baby _ho;ne.”_ _ Again he was silenced; the idea. was infinitely more poetical than his own. “This." he reflected, “is a child of a curious mental caliber. Before he could pursue the thought turgher. she broke in upon: it in quite a dlfferent strain. “Have you seen Jack and J ill? They are jolly." “Who are Jack and Jill 9" "Why. my ravens. of course. I got hon't know myselL How can DURHAM HROFICLE. November ut of the old t 6 end of the l: U Ollu Vb vuv lb av -T “'th tree at the god Why. {the hole where W is {my feet up. “'30 yOU'?” n: Q l gat th em myself. Sam‘ Samâ€"was afraid to go up he shau! (1 tall, and that th would peck his eyes 5'0 tinsel" one morning quite ‘ 1. bag tied round' 03’ 11°C up. It was hard work, 3110 1 uucus tumbled once; but Igot on the bong beneath the hole at ltSt- It ShOOk very much; it is so rotten. you have no idea. There were three little ones In the nest, all with great mouths. I took two, and left one for the old birds. When I was nearly down again. the old birds found me out. and. flew at me, and beat my head with their Wings, and Backedâ€"0h, they (311d peck! Look her hand; “that's where they peeked. But I stuck to my be , and got down at last, and I'm glad did, for we are‘ great friends now; and I up sure the (gross old birds would be quite pleaeed if they knew how nicely I am educating their young ones, and h ners have unproved. But I say. Mr. Fraser, don’t tell Pigott; she cannot (‘llmb trees, and does not like to see me do it. She does not know 1 went after them myself." Mr. Fraser laughed. ; “I won't tell her, Angela. my dear; 'but you must he cirefulwyou might ltumble and kill yourself}; 1" 1‘..-,-.._ Bum-Jaw allu Jvâ€"â€"â€"- “I don’t think IshaII, Mr. 1‘,mser unlessI am meant to. God looks after me as much when 1 am up a tree as when 1 am upor; tbeg gr03und.’ :m -- An nn'v " LILâ€"ILL 1 (11.1.1 1111\111 vast O_-___, Once more he had nothing to say, he could not venture to disturb her faith. “I will walk home with you, my dear. Tell me. Angela, mould you like to learn “I" . “Learnlâ€"learn what 3" “Books, and the languages that other nations. nations that have passed away used to talk, and how to calculate numbers and distances. um'lvA-u- ‘v--\â€" wâ€"w' '7‘- “Yes, I should'like to learn very much; but who will teach me ‘I l have learned all Pigott knows two years ego, and since then I have been try- mg tolenrn abouttle trees andflowers and stars; but 1 look and watch, and can't understand." " l VW“ V “figuv‘uvwâ€"\-- “Ah! my dear, wntact with Nature is the highest education; but the mind that would ippreciate her won- ders must have a foundation of know- ledge to work upcn. The uneducated man is rarely sensitive to the thousand beauties and marvels of the fields around him, and the skies above him. But, if you like. i will teach 'ou. An- gela. I am practically an i le man, and it will give me great leasure; but you must promise to wor and do what 1 tell you." "Oh, how good you are! Of course I will work. When am I to begin ?" “I don't knowâ€"to-morrow. if you like; but i must speak to your father irs .Her face fell a. little at the men- Lmn of her father’s name. but. present- lyusjle Spiq, quigtly: 33 T “My father; he will not care if I learn or not. i hardly ever see my father; he does not like me. I see no~ budy but, Pigott and you and old Jakes. and Sam sometimes. You need not ask my father; he will never miss me wiiii‘str‘l‘am lear9i51‘3. Ask Pigott." AL I ___._-ll LA...“ ---‘-Jv uwâ€"- At. that moment P1 ott herself hove inqyjew‘ in a great lurgx. ”Oh. here you are. Miss Angela! Where have you been to. you nanglgty girl? At some of your stgr-gazgng tricks again. I'll be bound._ frxghtemng the life out of a body,. It’s just too bug ofuyou, Migs_Augola.'f _ The little girl looked at her with a. [eculiarly winning smile, and took her very solid hand between her own tiny wlm. “Don't be cross, Pigott, deal." she said “I didn' t. mean to frighten you. 1 c’ouldnt help going 3â€"1 couldn’t in- dean; and then i stopped talking to Mr. Fraser " “There, there, I should' just film to know who can be cross with you. when 3'0” but on. thoserways. Are your feet wet! Ah, I thought so, Run in and take! them off." . " Won’t that be Just a little (hf- fu'lJt?" and she was gone with a merâ€" “There, sir, that’s just. like her. catching a. body up like, and LWlstlng when. sue says, till ya? don’t know which is head and WhiCh is neelS. 1,“ be bound you found her down yonder," nmlshc nodded toward the church- :y'iLl‘fl ”Yes.” 1 #:‘€g(')t drew a little nearer, and Spoke in a 10“" voice. ' ”i'is my belief, sir, that nhattugld see-s things; she is just the oddestchild i ever saw. 'l.‘here's: nothing shelikes better than to slip out of a night, and to go to that there beastly churchyard, saving your presence, for‘company,’.as she calls itâ€"nice sort. of company in- deed. And it is just the same way with storms. You remember that dreadful gale a month; ago, the one that took down the North Grove and. New the spire off Rewtham Church. Well, just when it was at its worst, and 1 was a-sitting and praying; that the roof might keep' over our heads, 1 look round for Angela, and can’t see her. °:}ome of your tricks again,’ thinks @to nyseli, and just then up comes 311m. Jakee to say‘ that Sam had seen thtle missy creeping down the tunnel walk. 1 was that scared that 1 ran down, got hold 01 5am, for Jaxes said he wouldn’t go out with all them trees a-flying about in the air like strawsâ€"no, not for a thousan¢ wands, and off we set after her.” Here ngott paused to groan at the recol- lection of that walk. “\Vell,” said Mr. Fraser, who was rather interestedâ€" everything about this queer child interested him; “where did you find her?” “Well, sir, you know! where the old wall runs out into the water, below Caresfoot’s Staff there? Well, at the end of it there’s a post sunk in, with a ring in it to tie boats to. Now, would you believe it? out there at the end of the wall, and tied to the ring hy a scarf passed round her middle, was that dreadful child. She was stand- ing there, her back against the post, right in the teeth of the gale, with the spray dashing over her, her arms stretched out before her, her hat gone, her long hair standing out behind, straight as an iron bar, and: ther eyes flashing as though they were on fire, and all the while there were the great trees crashing down all round in a way enough to make a body sick with fright. We got her back sate. that the old birds ;. So Iwent by quite early. with my neck. and got. ork. and I qearly with a 11018 in W Uulu y uui . “Part with her,” answered Pigott. In hot indignation,. “part with my little beauty! I would rather part With my head. The love, there never was another like her/ nor never .“'111_ be, With her sweet ways; and. If 1 know anything about girls, she’ll be fho hoanfv nf “nu-lands ghe Will. She’s ' "" “-Vvuv. uuv vâ€" ' â€" â€" 7 be, with her sweet ways; and. ,1: 1? know anything about girls, 811%” b?! the beauty of England, she will. She 5 made for a beautiful woman: and look at them eyes and forehead am; hairâ€"where did you: ever see the like: ‘ And, as for her. queer ways, “'th can you expect from a child as has 80L’ 3. great empty mind and nothing to but in it, and, no one to talk to but a common woman like me, and. a ”fir er”â€" here she drOpped her vomeâ€" as is a miser, and hates the sight of his own flesh and blood.” “ Hush! you should not say such ‘things, Pigott, !â€" Now, I W111 tell you something; 1 am gonng On to ask your master to allow me to educate Angela.” . a ‘ . “I’m right glad to hear it, Sir. bhe s sharp enough to learn anything, and it’s kind of you to teach her. if 3'0“ can make her mind. like what her izody will be if she, lives, somebody will he a. lucky man one of these days. (100d- night, sir, and many thanks forixring' ingg missy home. I -Aâ€"- -‘.'|In1‘ er” â€" here she droyped is a miser, and hates own flesh and blood. ” iext (fay Angela began tion. CHAPTER XVI. Reader, we are about, to see Angela ‘ again, and to see a good deal of her; but you must he prepared for a change in her personal appearance, for the curtain has been down for ten years since last you. met the child whose odd propensities excited Pig- ott’s wonder and indignation. and Mr. Fraser’s interest, and ten years, as we all know, can work many changes in the history of the world and individ- uals. In ten years some have been swept clean off the board and their places taken by others; a few have grown richer, many poorer, some of us sadder, some wiser, and all of us ten years older. Now, this was exactly what had happened td little Angelaâ€"- that is, the Angela we knew as little and ten years make curious differences between the slim child of nine and a half and the woman of nearly twen- y. , \Vhen we last saw her, Angela was about to commence her' education. Let us reintroduce ourselves on the mem- orahle evening when, after ten years of study, Mr. Fraser, a master by no means easily pleased, expressed 'himself unable to teach her any more. ‘II‘II \ o It is Christmas eve. Drip. drop, drip. falls the rain from the leafless houghs on to the soddel earth. The apology for daylight that has been doing its dull dut for the last few hours is slowly e facing itself. and! the aale is celebrating the fact. and showing its joy at the closing in of the melancholv night by howling its loudest through the trees. and flogging the flying send it has brought with it from the sea, till it whirls across the sky like a succession of ghostly race- horses. This is outside the Vicarage; let us look within. In a well-worn arm- chair in the comfortable study, near to a table coverod with books, and holding some_loo_s§ sheets of {oolscqp in his hand. sits Mr. Fraser. His hair is a little grayer than when: he began Angela’s education. about as gray as rather accommodating hair will gret at the age of fifty-three; otherwise his general appearance is much the same. and his face as refined and gentlemanâ€" like as ever. Presently; he lays down the sheets of paper. which he has been studying attentively, and‘ says; "Your solution is perfectly sound. Angela; but you have‘ arrived at it in a characteristic fashion, and by ‘your own road. Not but what your take Ayer’s Pills, and you will sleep better and wake in better condition for the day’s work. Ayer’s Cathartic Pills have no equal as a pleasant and effect- ual remedy for constipation, biliousness, sick headache, and all liver troubles. They are sugar-coated, and so perfectly prepared, that they cure with- out the annoyances experienced in the use of so many of the pills on the market. Ask your druggist for Ayer’s Cathartic Pills..When other pills won’t help you, Ayer’s is 0 THE PILL THAT WILL. l ’«U‘C uf her personal uppearunve “nuld ._ be vastly nmru pleusml \s'vrv llt'I‘ 33:6 to l to guvssezl :15 being thirty rutlsvr than : forty." : TM“ is u very wul-v :nul «lvlivato ques- : Lion. Mulch demands upon llw rave and l not a little Upon Um wanun. Jn sump i southern lands wunwn are either lurinklezl 11ml sllrlwllt..l or fat. and . . shapeless grandmothers before they Retlrlng . . . . . reach the age mentioned. ln Eng- ' land and in this country it, often hap- pens that the "fulness of beauty" in woman “does not reach its zenith um I degthe age_of thirty-five or forty." kc Ayer’s Pills, and you will con 1xn++nr 01111 “7913:: :11 Raff-pr 18, 1897. ."uiu. Wm .m$lfi"l‘| ‘0' her educat- method has some merits-for one thing. on the other handJ it shows feminine weakness. It is 'not possible to fol- low every step tron! your premises _to__ your conclusion, correct as it if is more concise than _my ovgn; “Ah!" ea 3 a law voice, with a happy ripp e in it, lthe owner of which is busy with some tea, things out of range of the ring of light thrown by the double reading lamp. “you often blame me for jumping at conelupiqns, Dianna mu un‘ lump lug an UUlll/luuluuu, but what does it matter, provided they are right? The whole secret is that I used the equivalent algebraic formu- la, but suppressed the working in or- der to puzzle you " and the voice laughed eweetly. _â€"__U_..___ . “That is not worthy of a mathe- matician," said Mr. Fraser; with some irritation; “it is nothing but a trick, a tour de force.” “The solution is correct you say?“ “Quite." “ Then I maintain that, it is perfectly mathematical; the object of mathematics is to arrive at the truthf' . "Vox et preterea nihil. Come out of. that corner, my dear. I hate arcruâ€" ing with a person I vannot 9.99. But there. what is the use of arguing: at all? Thr- fact is, Angola. you are a first class mathemativian. and I am only second class. I am ohliged to stick to the old. tracks; you out :1 R0- man road of your own. Great masters are entitled to do that. That algebraic formula never occurred to me when I worked the problem out. and it took me two days to'do it." To Be (.‘on tin ued. SAVED BY GENERAL BOURBAKL Corroupomleni wlm wad “Mean-d to be Mm! as a Spy. Alvan S. Soulhworlh, read of the death of General Boutlnki with an un- usual thrill of interest. because. it. was only the Frenchman’s intervention that saved him from being shot as a Spy during the l~‘ranco-Prussian war twenty-seven years ago. " \Vhile I was at Lille, in the north of France. as a newspaper correspond- ent." said Mr. Southworth. “I was seized as a spy. tried by drum-head court martial and condemned to die. I shivered a little when I heard the edict; but. I took courage from the fact that the sentence must recieve the approval of Bourbaki. then in com- mand of the department of the north. He was noted as a man of chivalry. Yet when 1 was informed that he had already settled my fate life began to ooze out of every pore. “ It so happened that one of those noble women. a sister of the Order of St. Vincent de Paul. visited the bastion where I was confined. offer- ing fruit and religious consolation. I told her that it was all amonumental mistake. and that if I could see him ll could convince General Bourbaki that he was not only about to com- mit an act of silly barbarity. but also that it would be widely noted and promptly avenged. I. asked her to have me brought before the General at the earliest moment. as the execution was fixed for the morning at daybreak. Gould she do it ‘I 1 think the Sisterâ€" her name was Sister Augustineâ€"felt that the charge was preposterous. and she said: ‘Immediatement! Immediate- ment. monsieur!" She flew from the bastion. and within half an hour I was before Bourbaki. who was nerv- ously pacing up and down on the par- ade ground. _ 1,-) LL_L 1' wuv “This good sister has asked that I see you." he said. in a disdaintul way. “Que voulex vous dire ?" “I am merely an American news- paper correspondent.’ I replied. ‘and was inspecting the fortifications in pursuit of my profession; that is all- nothing antqgonistic to the Ifrencbâ€" ' The queiétion of taéte. too. has much to do with a decision. and it, is a van- on of criticism that in matters of taste them can be no unvarying standard of judgment. There is a beauty of the bud and a beauty of the blossom in all its glory. In the eye of cold fact a. i woman probably reaches the. fulnesa of ‘her beauty at her physical maturity ‘ and ripeness. a val-{ling time in differ- !ent olima and wit different women. ' Andâ€"blessed fact !â€"nhe remains beau- tiful as long as she looks so in the eyes of thoge who love her. . EB'Eiiéa’sdE'i‘ifiuu credentials are at the Hotel de l’EurOpe.” “ The General sent an orderly for my luggage. which was light. and be- ing more than satisfied that I was not a dangerous enemy of France. 1 reâ€" ceived my freedom over cognac and vigars." This question is discussed in an Eng- lish journal by a writer who maintains that. “ the fulness of beauty does not. reach its zenith under the age of thir- ty-five or forty." This claim is disxmt- ed by another writer. who cites the opinion of women themselves as shown by the undoubted fact, that; “any wo- man who craved admiration on the HO\V LONG BEAUTIFUL? “'3 V5 tim mn FR}: “'0