The following text may have been generated by Optical Character Recognition, with varying degrees of accuracy. Reader beware!

CHAPTER XXVI. One Saturday morning, when May was three parts gone, Philip annou‘med his intention of going .up\ to London till the Monday on business. [He was than who had long,I since become callous to appearances. and though Arthur, fearful less spiteful things should be said of Angela. almost hinted that it would look odd, his host merely laughed and said that he had little doubt but that his daughter was quitei able tolook after herself, even whenl such a fascin- ating young gentleman as himself was concerned. As amatter of fact, his object was to get rid of Angela by marrying her to this young HeighamV who had so opportuner tumbled down from the skies, and whom he rather liked than otherwise. This being the case, he rightly concluded that, the more the two were left together, the greater probability there was of his ob- ject being attained. Accordingly he left them together as much as possible. It was on the evening of this Sat- urday that Arthur gathered up his sourage and asked Angela to come and Walk through the ruins! with him. An- gela hesitated a little; the shadow of something about to happen had fallen in her mind; but the extraordinary beauty of the evening, to say nothing of the prospect of his company, turned the scale in Arthur's favor. It was one of those nights of which. if we are lucky, we get some five' or six in the course of an English sum- mer. The moon we at her full, and, . the twilight ended, she; filled the heavâ€" ens with her light. Eiv-ery twig and blade of grass showed out as clearly as in the day, but looked like frosted silver. The silence was intense, and so still was the air that the sharp shadows of the trees were motionless upon the grass, only growling withl the growing hours. It was one of those nights that fill us with an indescribable emotion. bringing us into closer companionship with the unseen than ever does the gar- ish. busy day. In such an hour, we can sometimes feel. or think that we can feel, other presences around us, and involuntarily we listen for the whispâ€" er of the wings. and the half-forgotten Voices of our beloved. . On this particular evening some such feeling was stirring in Angela's heart as with slow steps she led the way into t‘he little village churchyard, a. simil- ar spot to that which is to be found in many a countr parish, except that, the population bong very small, there were but few recent graves Most of the mounds had no headstones to re- call the names of the neglected dead, but here and there were dotted discolâ€" ored slabs, some sunk a foot or two into the soil, a few lying prone upon it, and the remainder thrown by the gadual subsidence of their supports in- every variety of angle, as though they had been suddenly halted in the maddest whirl of a grotesque dance It deathi. Picking her way through these, An- gela stopped under an ancient yew. and,,.pointing to one of two shadowed mounds to which the moonlight scarce- ly struggled, said in a low voice: "That is my mother's grave." It was a modest tenement, enough, a. little heap of close green turf, sur- rounded by a railing, and. planted with gweet-williams and forgetâ€"meâ€"nots. At its head was placed a white marble \cross, on which Arthur could just dis- tinguish the words “Hilda Caresfoot," and the date of death. L-Ie was about to speak, but she- stop: ped him with a gentle: movement, and then, stepping forward to the head of the railing, she buried: her face in her hands. and remained motionless. Ar~ thur watched her with curiosity. \Vhat, he wondered, was passing in the mind of this strange and beautiful woman, who had grown up so sweet and pure amidst moral desolation, like a white lily blooming alone on the black Afric- an plains in winter? Suddenly she raised her head, and saw the inquiring. look he bent upon: her. She came tow- ard hum, and, in; that sweet half-plead- ing vorce which won one of her greatest charms, she said, I “I fear you think me very foolish Z” "\Vhy should. I think you foolish ’6" "Because I have come here at night to stand before a half-forgotten grave.” - “I do not think you foolish, indeed. I was only wondering what was pass- ing in your mind." *Angela hung her head; and made no answer, and the clock above them boomâ€" ed out the hour, raising its sullen note in lnsolent defiance of the silence. \Vhat is it. that; is so solemn about the striking of the belfry-clock when one stands in a churchyard at night? Is it that the hour: softens our natures, and makes them more amenable to semiâ€"superstitious influences? Or is it that the thousand evidences of depart- ed mortality which surrounds us, ap- peal with dumb force to natural fears. - throw open for a space the gates of our world-sealed imagination. to tenâ€" ant its vast halls with prophetic echoes of our end? Perhaps it is useless to imquire. The result remains the same; few of us can hear those tones at night i without a qualim, and, did we put our thoughts into words, they would run something thus: I . “That sound once broke upon the livâ€" ing ears of those who sleep around us. _We hear it now. In a little while, hour after hour, it will echo against the tombstones of our graves. and new generations, coming out of the silent future. will stand where we stand, and hearken; and muse, we mused, over :the old problems that we have gone to "solve; whilst weâ€"shall we not be (leaf ito hear and dumb to utter f" '~ Such, at any rate, were the unspoken l thoughts that crept. into the hearts of SArthur and Angela as the full sound (from the belfry thinned. itself away in- lto silence. She grow a little pale. and 3voluntary shiver, while even the dog Alesk sniffed and whiinicd unromfort-, .ably, I "It feels cold," he said. Igo?" “Shall we lglonced at him, and he gave an in-. 1 l "I only knew it \rhcneâ€"whcn you. kissed me. Before then the n \\ as something in my hcarl liul l did put‘ ‘know Wlial it was. Listen. dcar,” she low. "I am liest so; it is the attitude of adoration, and l have foundimy di- vinity." Y‘But I cannot hear to see you kneel to me." “Oh! Arthur you do not understand. a minute since [ did not understand that a woman is very humble when she really loves." “Do youâ€"really love me, Angela?" "I do." “lla"e you known that long?" iwent on. ‘Iflr one minute to Inc first They turned and walked toward the , gate. and by the time they reached it, a all superstitious thoughts had vanished â€"at any rate, from Arthur’s mind, for he recollected that he had set himself a task to do, and that now would be the time to do it. Absorbed in this passed first through the turnstile. On the further side he paused. and looked eyes met. and there was that in his that caused her own, A silence ensued as they stood by the gate. (He broke it. “It is a lovely night. through the ruins." "I shall wet my feet; the dew must be falling." "There is no dew falling toâ€"nightt \Von't yo? come 2“ “Let us go to-morrow; than I generally go in. wonder what has become of me." ,“Never mind Piigott. The night is too fine to waste asleep; besides you know, one should always. look at ruins by moonlight. Please come." Let us walk it is later ed and came. “What do you want to see ?” she said,” presently, with as near an approach to irritation as he had ever heard her indulge in. “That is the famous win- dow that Mr. Fraser always goes into raptures about." "It is beautiful. Shall we sit down here and look at it ‘1" They sat down on a low mass of fallâ€" en masonry some fifteen paces from the Window. Around them’lay a delicate tracery of shadows, whilst they them:â€" selves were seated in the eye of the moonlight. and remained for awhile as silent and as still as though they had been the shades of the painted figures that had once filled the stony franc above them. ‘ "Angela." he said, at lengthâ€""An- gela, li ten, and I will tell you someâ€" thimgl. My mother, a woman to whom sorrow had become almost an inspira- t1011., when she was dying, spoke to me something thus: 'There is,’ she said, 'but one thing that I know of that has the power to make life happy as God. meant it to be, and as the folly and weakness of men and. women render it nearly imposmble for it to be, and that isâ€"love. Love has been the consolation of my own existence, in the midst of many troubles; first, the great devo- tion I bore your father, and then that which I entertain for yourself. With- out these two tiles life would indeed have been ,a desert. And yet, though it is a grief to me to leave you and though I shrink from the dark passâ€" age that lies before me. so far does that first great love outweigh the love I bear you. that in my calmer moments I am glad to go, because I know I am awaited by your father. And from this 1 Wish you to' learn a lesson; look for your happiness in life from the love of your life, for there only will you find it. (Do not fritter away your heart, but seek out some woman, some one. good and pure and true, and in givmg her your devotion you will reap a full reward, for her happiness will reflect your own, and, if your choice is right. you will however stormy your life may be, lay up for yourself, as I feel, that I have done, an everlasting: Joy. .. . 'She listened to him in silence. ‘Angela," he went on, boldly enough, now that the in; was broken, "I have often thought about what my mother said1 but until now I have never quite understood her meaning. I do under- stand it now. Angela, do you under- stand me 'I” There was no answer; she sat there upon the fallen masonry, gazing at the ruins round her, motionless and white as a marble goddess, forgotten in her desecrated fame. "0b., Angela, listen to incâ€"listen to me! I have found the woman of whom my mother spoke, who must- be so ‘good and pure and true.’ You are she. I love you, Angela, I love you with my whole life and soul; I love you for this world and the next. Oh! do not re- Ject me; though I am. so little worthy of you. I will try to grow so. Dearest can you love me?" Still there was silence, but he thought that he saw her breast heave gently. Then he placed his hand, all trembling With the fierce emotion that tlirobbed along his veins, upon the palm that hung listless by her side and gazed in- to her eyes. Still she neither spoke nor shrunk, and, in the imperfect light, her face looked wery pale, while her lovely eyes were dark andrmeaningr- less as those of one entranced. Then slowly he gathered: up his cour- age for an effort, and, raising his face to the level of her own, he kissedl her full upon her lips. She stirred, she sighed. [He had broken the spell; the sweet face that had withdrawn itself drew nearer to him; for a second the awakened eyes looked into his own}, and filled them with reflected splendor, and then he became aware of a warm arm thrown about his neck, and next the stars grew dim and sense and life itâ€" . self seemed to shake upon their thrones for a JOY almost too great for mortal man to bear lookk possession of his heart as she laid her willing lips upon his own. And thenl before he knew! her purpose,_she slid down upon her knees bes1de him, and placed her head upon his breast. "Dearest," he said, "don’t kneel so look at me”, 7. Slowly she raised her face, wreathed and lovely with many blushes, and look- eil upon him with tearful eyes. ’He tried to raise her. “Let me be,” she said, speaking very Pigott will , .care. lest your fate should be that of She looked at him doubtfully, hesitat- . reflection. he fongot his politeness and } earnestly into his belovcd's face. Their , to swiftly drop her. ‘should trouble you hereafter, and [will get up." attempting to raise ham to say is for he was agaln her. "\thl‘. I bust. said upon my knees, for I wanl in thank God who sent you to me, and to thank you too for your goodness. It is so wonâ€" derful that you shiuld love a simple girl like me afiid I am so thankful to you. Oh! I have never livcd till now. and," rising in her full stature, “I feel as though I had been crowned a queen of happy things, lfclhrune me. desert. me. and I will still be gyaieful to you for this blur of imperial happiness. But if you, after awhile, when you know all my faults. and imperfections better. (an still care for me, I know that there is something in me that will enable me to repay you for what you have given me. by making your whole life happy. Dear, I do not know if I speak as other women do. but, believe me. it is out of the fullness of my heart. Take care, Arthur, ohl take the magician you spoke of tho other day. who evoked the spirit, and than fell down before it in tcrror. You have also called up a spirit. and I prny that. it. was not done in sport, lest it “Angela do not speak so to me: it is I who Gh-Hlld have knelt to you. You were right. when you called yourâ€" self "a queen of happy things.” You are a queenâ€"â€"" “Hush! Don't overrate me: your di- sillusion will be the more painful. Come. Arthur, let us go home." He rose and went with her in a dream of joy that for a moment. preâ€" cluded speech. At the dmr she lads him goodâ€"night and uh! happiness. gave him her lips to kiss. Then they partâ€" ed. their hcarts tow full for words. One thing he asked h°r, however, "\Vhat was it that took you to your mother’s grave. tn-night?” She looked at him with a. curiously mixed expression of shy love and (‘onâ€" viction on her face and answered: "Her spirit, who led me to your heart." (To be Continued.) _..___â€".â€"â€"â€"â€"â€" T0 WALK ACROSS THE ATLANTIC. Captain William C. (Hal-love Plans :1 Peril- ous Trmuocennlc Trlp to be sun-rer Next July. Captain William C. Oldrieve of Bos- ton has planned to walk across the Atlantic Ocean. He will begin his journey July 4. and will be accompan- ied by Captain William A. Andrews of New York, famous by reason of his voyage across the Atlantic in a small boat. It is nothing new for Captain Oldâ€" rieve to promenade the waves. That has been his pleasurpe and profit these ten years. Captain Andrew's. who is to Le the companion of the water pe- destrian will journey in a brand new 14â€"foot sailboat. and in this merely re- peats a feat performed in 1878- and again in 1892.. Captain Andrews is really the man who has brought about the whole af- fair. Here is his own statement: "Incredible as it may seem, next year we are really going to walk and 58le down Boston harbor, out onto the ocean and over to H‘avre, France, through the great bore of the River Seine and on up to Paris, to be there to attend the exposition of 1900 in our new seaâ€"going shoes and smallest fastâ€" est and best boat that ever crossed the Atlantic Ocean. the Phantom Ship. Every vessel we speak on the mean will 'report one of us walking and someâ€" times towing the boat in calm weaâ€" ther.” _ ‘ , The sea-going shoes of Mr. Oldrieve are the most wonderful part of the whole affair. At first thought they seem as fabulous as the sixâ€"league boats of fairy lore. Yet they are sim- ple enough when understood. "They are really a pair of cedar boxes. 5 feet long, witlh. fins on the bottom and sides. They are very light and capa- ble of sustaining 140 pounds, but, as Oldrieve weighs only 130, they are as good to him as a steamer’s deck. EMERGENCY DOCTORS IN PARIS. In Paris a list of doctors ready to attend in case of emergencies occurring in the night is published for the conâ€" venience of the public. Originally, we. learn, a fee of ten francs was the standard payment, but more recently a pool has been instituted, and the reâ€" sult divided quarterly among the docâ€" tors. This system has alienated the better-class practitioner, and now the employment of the whole class has beâ€" come endangered by the death of a patient treated by one of the members who lives on £15 per annum, with a stock of instruments as scanty as his insom‘e. AFRICAN FIREFLIES. In some parts of (Central and South Africa a single: firefly gives so much light that it illuminates a. whole mom. The British residents catch them in ordeir to find the matchbox can lamp. DISINFECTING DIPHTHERIA. .A little town, in Maine has an onâ€" ginal method of disinfecting districts in which diphtheria. has appeared. A dog "with a. caniplmr bag tied to his neck is allowed to roam. through the district. fill] GTSHM 3. SOME QUEER BELIEFS IN T .E DIS- next day at a fixed hour. and place, and .l. is bound to keep the appointment. ln one place they believe that wasps- do not stingr in September. The say- ing. “Many liaws, many shsivs,” ex- presses what is generally beileved fur- ther south. and other trees have their llll'lll, .‘lul'l'iuzc and llcmh hch each their S'glllil‘fl‘vn‘m' {Ml’l‘ilt‘nyr the elder and Own animusâ€"“any Ibon‘ls an Regards the .1.mux'1'. ,1“) .35t 3mg 0‘ Ilot’anc rm Sewn“. specific flfrfllzlfil \K'llrhcraft. In that, of course. evcrxlmly believed. that there As might be 9x1“ sled In such a dis- lrlcf (is Galloway. which, till a late period was so remain from external in~ fluences. and which had such a mark- ed individuality. the list of its local customs and beliefs is a long one. Let us take, first of all, those relating to limes and seasons. \Ve find at the outâ€" ‘sct. a slal‘eiincnt about February weaâ€" ther: "If Felmrwecr be fair an’ clear, there‘ll be two winters in the year." are many stories counterâ€"churns. Birth. marriage and death havr each their own wusloms and superstitions. As regards the second. there are many «’lOEl'lSâ€"l’llnllgll not. to the extent of the wellâ€"known adviceâ€"don't meet a” funeral or have the bridccake chipped, or meet after the baiiius have been pro- claimed, or hear your own. lranns read, or cuter the house after the welding fill the iiiiiiisl'er has gone in, or let; him shake hands with either till the about spells and .. . _ . . . ‘ , knot. is lied. The bride. also, should line furthrr SOlllh-IS limited to Candleâ€" not try on her weddng dressy when “ms D33“ “10 “91181 1“ the pomncy Of once it. is finished. nor should the dew collected on May Day marming, esv pccia‘i‘iy as a cosmetic. exisis in Galloâ€" way as it vlid in bouillon in the days of Pepys, 0‘] Sunday it was unlucky to cut. "h:llI‘( Norm" and as everywhcrc,l gri it cari m = ' taken in the (lisâ€" posal of the ‘clippings.” on Saturday a piece of work should] never be begun. ON NEW YEARi’S: EVE. On New Year’s Eve, which bears the widespread name Hogmanay, the fire was banked up with special care, for lll luck camc‘ to the liousckwhen it. went out. and to those who gave a turf next morning to light it again. Lucifer matches, at any rate, have! been a safe- guard to neighbors. in far-t. on New Year’s Day you must neilli’r sell, nor lend, nor give, outside the house, which, obviously, is not the Sentiment of our neighbours across the channel; but in- side its head formally presonted some food and, drink to all its inmates early in the morning, and even gave a little, grain to his horses and cattle. There was a general rule that on! New Year's mother witness the ceremony. Portents of death are much. the same in Galloway as in other places, and so also are many of the customs, such as the opening doors and windows. put- ting sail or. the breast of. the corpse. offering rcfrushmcnts at the funeral. together with a host of superstitions about suicides, drowned folk and the like. ‘ \VIN’I‘ER W RINKLES. “Now. Charles. let us make a list of your debts." “One moment, dear uncle, till I have filled up your inkstand." "A fine dog, that, of yours. What’s his name .2” "Has none, nor-needs one; he doesn’t obey anyway.” "I find 551;! a high price {of this par- rot, I suppose he speaks a goodl deal 7" "No. not at all, but he understands ev- erylhlng.” Natural Soliciludeâ€"Maiden Aunt â€""C01ne. now, Gertie! run ofll and take your beautyâ€"sleep." Gertieâ€"“0b.. Aun- tie! hadn’t you better come too '3" Young Softleighâ€"“Do you know, Miss Cutting. "that I actually believe Iam losing my mind?" Miss Cuttingâ€""In- morning something should be brought deedl M‘hy. how can you-tell?” into the house before anything was Real Heroismâ€""Mrs. Jenks is the taken out of it, and neither ashes nor most courageous woman' I . know." "Why ?" "She goes over and uses Dr. lank's telephone to call up another doctor.” Its Valueâ€"The Artist, complacentlyâ€" “This picture with the frame is worth $325." {His Friendâ€"“C e, old man! you never gave $300 f r that frame?" “One of the leading Czechs rejoices in the name of Czwrezek." "Say, I re: cognize that. It’s "the machine the den- tist bores out the cavity with." {Hicksâ€"“Crochet, you know, has/“a. musical mind." l‘iVicksuâ€""There, that accounts for it! I always have wonder~ ed why it was so easy for peoplel tol play upon him." “‘Tain’ allus puttin’ on style dat counts,“ said Uncle Eben. "PeOple would not think a. bit mo’ 0' Santy Claus if he wore patent leather shoes an' shavâ€" ed twice a day.“ Ills Blunderâ€"“Ah, I see I have con- _ veyed a wrong impression l" said the young man who had mistakenly kissed the young woman’s maiden aunt: in the darkened hallway as he came in. “Of course,” observed Xerxes, the King. my will is law.” “Doubtless,” answered the wise men of the court, after consulting a few authorities. “That is to say, if your Majesty doesn’t leave too large an estate." ,. "Speaking of the vogue of the, wheel," remarked the observer of men and things, “a good healthy Constitution and the canned beef industry doubtless go far to keep the horse from being eaten up by envy.” ' "I avonder how the English came to adopt red as a color for uniforms V" ask- ed the boarder, whose specialty is useâ€" less questions. “Perhaps 'twas done," said the Cheerful Idiot, “in defiance of the papal bull." Artâ€"“I have heard," said the young woman who is improving her mind, "that sometimes it requires a great deal of art to succeed in not doing, things." “It does,” replied Senator Sorghum; “unquestionably; especially if your are being paid for them." lA. Klondike Heiressâ€"First Klondike Minerâ€"“I hear that our neighbor, Spud- kins, hasmarried rich l" Second Klon- dike Miner, enviouslyâ€"“Yes; they say his bride has an independent fortune of fifty cans of boneless ham and twen- ty-five cans of condensed milk." “The parcel postman has just called at the Tyvickenhams', next door, and. left a football, a bicycle, two cricket- buts, a package of sweaters, a. pair of Spoon oars, and a bundle of golf-sticks." "Then their daughter must be .home from college and her education finish- ed,” She Knew Him.â€"Tomâ€""Did you give Miss Gortrox a Christmas present?" Jackâ€""I tried to. Offered her myself you know.” Tomâ€"“And she refused you ’l” Jackâ€"“l suppose that's what it amounts to. She said she didn’t believe it was right. for a girl to accept very costly gifts." Young Hicksâ€"“You needn't laugh at my moustache, Maud; your mother said it was becoming, didn't you, madame?" Mrsf Baileyâ€""0h, no, Harry! You misunderstood me. 1 said it was com- ing." Young Hicksâ€"“Now, Mrs. Earlâ€" ey, don’t cut a moustache when it is down." The Brass of Criticsâ€"~"I often marv- el," said Pennington the author, "at these critics, who in Ian hour's time blast a work o‘rcr whichl we authâ€" ors have spent a year." “ch,” replied "slope" were to be carried. Muchl deâ€" pended on the “first foot," that is, the first visitor. Some persons were har- bizngers of ill luckexvomen were aIâ€" ways among these, particularly if they were walking barefoot. Even on meet- ing them outside. some people would turn back and give up an expedition. Candlemas was 'an important day in the schools. The boys and girls brought presents to the master, generally monâ€" ey; then, be appointed one, of each as king and queen, and treated the chil- dren to cakes and weak "toddy." On Hallowe’en they performed a mumming play. BELIEFS IN THE MOON. The moon was a centre of a number of fancies. A hen should be set when it is waxing; the new moon,when seen for the first time, can help a girl to the name of her future husband; it will bring a wish to pass if you turn the money thrice in your pocket; but ill luck comes if you look at it through a window. All these beliefs are wide- spread). That a. man should not.build a house for himself was believed in Gal- loway, as elsewhere, and those who quit- ted a house showed their good will by not cleaning it up, for this "took away the luck." Newcomers protected themâ€" selves by throwing a cat or a hen, or some other animal, inside, before they entered themselves for this became the victim if a curse had been left on the building. It was the rule in Galloway, as in most. other places, that the be- ginner "paid his footing,” and new work of most kinds was consecrated by a libation, poured not on the\ ground, but down the throat. AS TO THE CLERIGY. The clergy are held in honour. or at least in fear, and evil must not be Spoken against them, for, as a proverb goes, “It's unlucky t' meddle wi'craws and ministers." "Holed" stones Were potent amulets for cattle, but the virtues of these are known to other parts of Britain. After a cow had calvedits back was sprinkled withsalt or oatmeal. The first milk it gave afterward went by the namelofi beesnan (in the English midlands beeslings), and was used for various special purâ€" poses. Never, if it can beravoided, let a. mare “foal'_’ under a roof, and mind that a dark-eyed person is the first to look at a young pig. A horseshoe brings luckâ€"that is universalâ€"and so does alive hedgehog; but a dead one, a black cat and a hare are signs pof bad fortuneâ€"nay, some think even a wild rabbit ill to meet. Crowing hens were deemed as objec- tionable us whistling lassies. and even .3. cock might not utter his natural notes at untimely hours, for ill would u come of litâ€"a belief often Veiiiied when fowls are kept in towns. .But if a cock reaches the age of seven years he beâ€" comes a dangerous fowl, for then he lays an egg and from this is hatched a cockatrice. That, too, is a. very wide- spread notiou. A cock is said 10 have been solemnly tried and condemnâ€" ed at B-asle in tlicl middle ages for this; heinous crime. \Vild birds take tlisir part in auguries. lll fortune comes from injuring swallows, wrens, robins, rocks or cuckoos, but the last may bring good or bad luck according to circumstances. A single magpie is lucky, and if’lhree approach a house a funeral will soon leave. SNAKE STONES AND FORTUNE. Snake stones can be found and bring good fortune, and a spell can be laid . , on the adder. If you try to kill onciCaxvstik, who had read Pennlng‘ltllls and it escapes the respite is brief, for latest ."thn a minute would suffice you can make a "tryst" to meet ltilallelll to say all that is necessary.