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One Sh illing . 

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I'D the 


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Editorial Office: Mowbray Hou»e, Norfolk Street. London, W.C. 

PubUshing Office: Horaoe Marshall A Son, 126, Fleet Street, E.G. 






Sick Headache. Constipation, 
Weak Stomach, 

Impaired Digestion, 

Disordered Liver, and 

Female Ailments, 

Prepared by THOMAS BEECHAM, St Helens, Lancashire. 

Sold Sverywhere in Boxes, 9id., Is. Ijd., and 2s. 8d. eacb, wlUi 

Fall I}l2>eotio]i8. 


The Sale is now Six Million Boxes per Annum. 


ixx'inmeiMi itself; it is eflicacious, economtca), cleanses the teeth, perfuines the breath, removes 

" i prex-ents decay. It is composed of the best known ingredients for neutralising the acids of 

■". preventing .ill deletrrious deposits upon the terth, and is a pleasant and reliable centifnce 

BEECHAM'S TOOTH PASTE is put up in collapsible lubes, perfectly iir-iight, and so 

;t no waste rnnvi >\c. • : i e packages are pretty for the toilet table, and most convenient 

ng bag. Of ..1 l>: . v:, - > or (ro:n the Piopri^t.^r. for ONE SHILLING, postage paid 

The Pilgrimage Movement; 


What Co=operation will do for Travel. 

By rev. dr. LUNN. 

General Editor of the •' Review of the Churches." 


Ih this Christmas number Mr. \V. T. Stead h;is fore- 
cast a future for the Urindehvald Conference, which in 
my most sanguine moments I never 
looked forward to, , I have, how- 
ever, myself already been greatly 
astonished at the rapid growth of 
the movement. The co-operatira 
hohdays otfanised by the Poly- 
technic were the first great stcj^ in 
this direction. For something less 
than ^3 they sent over of 
their niembcrs and friends to the 
Paris Exhibition, and gave them a 
week in Paris. This was a great 
feat, and was followed by their sub- 
sequent successful experiments with 
respect to Norwa\ and America. 
This, howexer, is only one of many 
departments of the great work by which Mr. Quindn 
I logg has done so much to help the youth of London. 
When 1 commenced my experiment in a co-opera- 
tive holiday for ministers, and took the first Reunion 
party to Grindehvald numbering twenty-eight, I little 

imagined how 
rapid was to be 
the develop- 
ment of the 
work I had 
taken in hand. 
There seemed 
to be some- 
thing peculiar- 
ly attractive 
aixiut the idea 
of taking a 
.Swiss holiday 
for the sum of 
ten guineas, 
the members being ftee from any responsibilit>' in look- 
ing at time tables or choosing the route, while at the same 


time having liberty of action nevergranted before incom- 

bined parties, and the right of returning any time within 
forty-five days. About one thou- 
sand persons availed themselves of 
this holiday in 1892, that number 
being nearly doubled in 1 893. 

My friend, Mr. Woolrych Perowne, 
undertook at the Grindelwald Con- 
ference to carrj- out an extension of 
this co-operati\-e travel which from 
the tourist's standpoint has proved 
quite as successful as anything 
that has been accomplished in 

Last year he successfully carried 
out for the sum of twenty guineas 
an Italian tour which gave the 
greatest pleasure to a number of 

persons. Under all these circumstances no one wili be 

surprised to learn that he is intending to repeat last 

year's successfol Pilgrimage to Rome this year, and 

has also arranged a similar tour to Palestine, and a 

tour to Spain and North ,\frtca. 
Mr, Stead 

has kindly 

allowed me to 

publish in the 

form of an .ip- 

pendix to his 

story, the pro- 
gramme of 

these several 


Those who 

intend to join 

the parties for 

the Holy Land 

or Rome wili 

do well to apply early. Last spring the parties for Rome 

which were first announced were filled up very early. 

For further d«ta<.lB apply tci Tba 9ECRCTAIIV, "Tli* 

Ravl*w or tH« Church**," 

8> tna*l»tgn (btrtfons, Londofii 

The Pilgrimage Movement ; or 

NAPLESi CAffiOi JERUSALEM, arid ATHENS for Seventy-Five Cuineas. 

Lectures by Anhdeacon Fairar, Professor Mahaffy, Canon Tristram, and other eminent Archito{o'>ists 
Sermons by the Bishop of Worcester, and others. 


I beJieve it was Mr. Stead himself who suggested 
the idea of a Reunion Pilgrimage to Jerusalem as a 
logica] outcome of GrindelwaJd. I am glad to say that 

this Pilgrimage 
will leave Eng- 
land on Febru- 
ary the 6th, 
by Mr. Wool- 
Tych Perowne 
(the son of the 
Bishop of W'or- 
cester), who 
will have 
charge of the 

The whole 
cost for those 
who travel by 
sea the entire way will be seventy-five guineas. Those 
who go overland through Lucerne and Rome will pay 
five gumeas extra. Further particulars of the prices 
may be found in Mr. Perowne's circular. 

The journey by sea will be taken on the ss. St. 
Sunniva (one of the most famous of the Norwegian 
passenger steamers). This vessel is fitted with every 
coir.fort .-ini .if<oiiimod:Uion, and all may rely upon 

this part of the 
tour being as 
good as the 
hotels with 
which Mr. 
Perowne has 
arranged, and 
it is impossible 
to say more 
than that. 

The itinerary 
wiJl be as fol- 
lows : — 

— Tuesday, 
leave London 
and Dover for 
Lucerne, Wed- 
nesday, at Lu- 
cerne. Thurs- 
day, over the 
Sl Gothard to 
Saturday, Sunday and Mon- 

day, m Naples. Friday, Saturday, Sundav, and Mon^ 
day, through the Mediterranean to Alexandria 

'I'HiRD Week.— Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday 
and Friday, at "^ 

Cairo, visiting 






ei.>«si>n> THl nmuiom. 

Milan. Friday, at Milan 
day, m Rome. 

SKcoNo WKEK.-Tuesday, Wednesday and Thurs- 

B. Cnit.lalsh fl.rd.n,, Lendon, N.W 

the Pyramids 
of Ghizeh, the 
Obelisk of 

Saturday, by 
train to Alex- 
andria, em- 
barking for 
Jaffa. Sunday, 
arrive at Jaffii. 
Monday arrive 
at Jerusalem, 

Week.— Tues- 
day, Bethlehem, and over the hills of the Wilderness of 
Judea,encampmgmKedronValley. Wednesday Teri- 
cho.encamping for the Jordan. Thursday, Bethany and 
the Mount of Ohves. Friday, Saturday, and Sundav 
at Jerusalem. Monday, return to Jaffa and embark ' 

JVa^^^''-~^V^'^ and Wednesday, crossing 
the Mediterranean. Thursday, arrive at the Pineus 

Tn ls:^,''in^''^"'- '''''''' '^''^'' "^^ s-^^^: 

eluding a visit 

by railway to 

Corinth. Mon- 
day, leave the 

Pirasus by 

Steamer for 


Sixth W'eek, 

— Tues day 
and \Vednes- 
day, on the 
ean. Thursday 
arrive Naples. 
Friday, arrive 
Florence. Sat- 
day, in Flor- 
ence. Monday, 
leave Florence 
for Venice. 

Seventh WEEK.-Tuesday, leave \'cnice for 

,f SeV""™'"^^ '°™^ '■^•="' °^ ^^y-g - "ucer;!:: 

What Co-operation will do for Travel. 3 


An Eigrhteen Days' Tour for Tweniy Guineas. 


Three Lectures in Rome by Archdeacon Farrar. 


Easter in Rome, with Special Sermons by Leading Preachers. 


Special after- Easter Party for Clergymen and Educationists. 

Lectures by the Rev. H. R. Haweis, and others. 

It is difficult to give the tour according to the days dinner will there be served in the Belgian carriages, 

of the week when three tours are arranged in this 

fashion, but 
anyone wish- 
ing to start on 
any one of the 

Second Day. — Arrive at Basle at 6 a.m., where 
breakfast {cafe 
compkf) -vWVo^ 
served ; leave 
Basle at lo. lo 

three given dates can cal- 
culate their tour with the aid of 
a calendar. Here the arrange- 

a.m., arriving in Lucerne at 
1-37 pni. The journey from 
Basle to Lucerne is tlirough strik- 

HUkiia vtocHiOw mmiNei. 

ments are de- 
scribed for the 
first date : — 

FiKST Day. 
—Leave Lon- 
don, Hollxim 
Viaduct, for Dover 9.55 a.m. ; leave Dover about 
12.30 ; arriving at Ostend a little before 4 p.m. ; cold 


ing and plea- 
sant scenery. 
Lunch, dinner, 
bed, and break- 
fast will be 
provided at 
the Schweiicrhof and the Luzerncrhof, which art 
recognized as the best hotels in Lucerne. 


rov furthar d«tfUI« 

Kflply to Th* •KCKKTARV, «Th« R«iri*w «f th* Church**." 

S, Endal«itrh Q«r«l*n«, Lantfon, N.l 

The Pilgrimage Movement; or, 



Tbiu> Dat.— Leaving Lucerne at 1020 p.m., the 

joaxaer wfll be taken by the St Gothard Tunnel to 

MOu twer one of the most remarkable railvrays m ihe 

vorid, and duoogfa scenety almost 

■MansBCd for gandeuT and beauty. 

IGhn win' be teadied at 7.33 p.m., 

aad d^MT ind first-dsss accommo- 

dMioBiiai be mnii^ed Ibr in the Hotels 

CoBtMnttl and De la Vtlle, the best 

in tbc dn-, 

FOCRTH D.1T.— The day will be spent 

m seeing Milan, " la Grande," the 

c^'ta] of Lofnbardy, near the Ticino ; 

the andent Medioiamim. The party 

wiU kave Mibn at 

FllTR Dat. — Airive in Rome at 10 

a.m. Hotel ac- 

will be provided 

for ten days in 

Rone at die 

feaovoB bonds 

(die Danes are 

gives in a.; '-.i- 

bedol ordc: 


Hotel, Ho:i. 

Marini, Hotel 

Minerra. Hotel 

Rojale, and 

Hotel Russie. 
The first party 
^rill have the 
^■iMh^ i i. otf'bear- 

inj; Aiciideafcoa Fanai kcnue on Monday, 
Fehnaiy ladi, Tuesday, Febmaiy ijtfa, 
aod WeAooday, Fehruair 14th. At the 
coodasioB of the 
da;^ in Ron 
«( tbc pany can pto- 
kag dteir stay in Rfloac, 
vak any other put of 
1^, or faieak tbe jour- 
■7 at W7 of the 
pnncipal toans on Acv 
tetany at tfacv 
ex^case, vitbin a 
|M,iiod of furl) -firt di^ 
tron tan^ Loodoo. 
ThMC whoiOHn in tbe 
Sresl OMteaol paity 
-d as SqIovs t 
SXTB. Dat. — 
at a ajn. 

«.5s pjn_, tmm^ azMS siayn^ at tbe Hotels CaTOur, 
MiiMiua, and IBinak 

Seventeenth Da v.— Arriving at Mle at 7.57 
Dinner, bed, breakfast, lunch, and dinner will be pro- 
vided. This is gi\ iiig an opportunity of thoroughly 

seeing this interest- 
ing city. 

Eighteenth Day. 
—The part)' will 
leave Bile after 
dinner at 9. 11 p.m., 
arriving in I^ndon 
on the nineteenth 
day at 5 p.m. 

The Rev. H. R. 
Haweis, in an article 
on last year's Easter 
part)-, wrote : " The 
whole thing was well 
done and pleasantly 
done. Mr. Wool- 
rych Perowne, om 
special conductor, 
took advantage of the diiiner- 
bour to make announcement 
of plans, advertise kMt 
propert)-, and give hints» 
and after de- 
himself at 
one end of 
the table, 
he used to go 
to the other 
and da cat"y, so 
that all mi^t 
"Mr. Arthur 
Perowne, his bro- 
ther, was in charge of 
another band. At the 
Schweizeibof we were all 
taken in and done for 
together, but at Rome our 
one bundled and twenty or 
more were distributed by 
nftjes and sixties in the Royak, 
Manni, Minerva, and ebewbeie. 
-'Our liitle caai|iames were 
very sodabie, and inaMle up toois 
and had teas in eacb otfaei^ rootas, 
and discussed each other in tbek 
sometime too 
kMidly. The bethtxim doon actB% 
as good sounding bouds, in this 
way semal of as bad the oppor- 
tunity of knowii^ what oar fellow- 
pilgrims thought of us, which was sometiiiies bodb 
intetestii^ and in s tr u ct i ve. Bat as br as I kiKnw^ 

be ^mt in see^ Florence. there was wry Kt* ill-natuie. 

riurr, -"in« 


What Co-operation will do for Travel. 


A very delightful extension of the tour is arranged, giving another day in Florence, and two days 

This extension must be arranged be fore - 
Perowne's party, Venice, the capital of 

in Venice, staying at the Hotel Britannia, Daniele, and Grand, 
hand, and is always largely availed of by the members of Mr. 
Venetia and a naval command, 176 miles from Milan, 181 miles 
from Florence, built on piles, on 3 large and 814 small islands, 
made by 150 narrow canals, crossed by 3 So short bridges ; 
founded upon the decline of Aquileia (after 462) in a shallow 
lagune of the Adriatic. Lat. of Campanile, 45° 26' N,, long. 
12° 3o' E. Mean temperature 36° (Jan.) to 75° (July). The 
main island is divided into two unequal parts by the Canalazzo, 
or Grand Canal, which takes the form of an inverted S, z^ 
miles long, 300 feet wide, and crossed near the middle of its 
course by the famous Ponte di Rial to, of one spacious marble 
arch. Ponte Nuovo and the Iron Bridge are above and below. 
Two smaller islands,. Giudccca and St. George, lie to the south, 
across the Giudecca Canal, 

In the midst of the labyrinth of canals and Streets there are 
several Piazzas (or Campi), nearly all adorned with fine churches 
or palaces. The principal of these is the Piazza di San Marco, 
an oblong area 562 feet by 232 feet, near the Mole, surrounded 
by elegant buildings, and containing the metropoh'tan Church of 
San Marco, a singular and richly decorated combination of the 
Gothic and Oriental styles, now under restoration. It was made 
a cathedral as late as 1807, when the patriarchal seat was re- 
moved to it from San Pietro ; but was founded as early as 828 __ _ 
by Doge Giustiniano Participazo, to receive the relics of St. 
Mark from Alexandria. It has four bronze horses of Nero's time over the middle of 
the five bronze doors, 500 marble pillars, numerous gilt and other mosaics from 
eleventh century, and rich altars, one said to rest on pillars from Solomon's temple. 
The two crypts, now cleared of water, will be open to the public. 

In the Piazza is the Campanile, 316 feet high and 42 feet square, with a pyra- 
midal top, to which the ascent is made by an inclined plane ; also, the three cedar 
flagstafiFs for Cyprus, Candia, and the Morea ; and Lombardo's Orologio, or clock 
tower. On the Piazzetta (or branch ne.xt the Mole) are two granite pillars from 
Syria (1127) with statues of St. Theodore and the Lion of St. Mark. Library of St, 
Mark, a noble building of two orders, Doric and Ionic, Zecca, or Mint, adjoins the 
library on the Mole. King's Palace, at the Procuratc Nuove, has paintings by Bonifazio, TintorettO; 
Doge's Palace (10 to 3, i Ir.), 240 feet square, on the east side of the Piazza, was rebuilt 1354-5 
Marino Faliero, and is highly adorned. It contains the Giant's Stairs in the Court, the 

etc. The 
by Doge 

Lion's Mouth in the 
Bussola Room, and Rooms of the Council, Senate, Scrutiny, and Council of Ten, bas-rehefs, library of MSS., 
Museum, and pictures by Tintoretto and P. Veronese of events in Venice history. 


Those who can afford the time and care to spend a little more money, will be well advised to take 
advantage of the extension which has been arranged by Mr. Perowne for Naples and Pompeii, giving four 
days extra at Naples, for four guineas, with a ticket to Pompeii. 


A similar extension has been arranged for the Italian Lakes, which can be taken either afte» 
Kaples and Venice, or by the members of the party who do not visit either of these cities. 
The itinerary is so arranged as to give a thorough glimpse of the Italian lakes. 

r«r furthar d«t«U* apply to Ttia •KOKBTARY, 

■Th* llavlaw of tha Churchos," 

Si Enctsldeh Qardona, London, N.W. 

The Pilgrimage Movement; or, 


Lectures by the Rev. H. R. HAWEIS. 

Durine the 1893 Rorae tour, several members of 
the party suggested to Mr. Woolrych P..ow^e th^ he 

ise a tour to 
North Africa 
and Spain. 
This has ac- 
cordingly been 
arranged, and 
n party limited 
strictly to fifty 
will leave 
London about 
February the 


SI St by the P. and O. steamer 
for that date for Gibraltar. 
They wilt then cross over to 
Tangier, where Mr. Haweis 
has very considerable influence 
with some of those who have 
control over the Moorish 
poLices. Here travellers will 
have an opportunity of witness- 
ing Oriental life. The customs 
of the inhabitants, the nume- 
rous biiM.irs, and the market 
places form a picture which will 
he long remembered. Return- 

The next town visited will be Seville, the cathedral 
of which is the largest and one of the most magnifi- 
cent in Spain. 
"The first view 
of the interior 
is one of the 
supreme mo- 
ments of a life- 
time. The 
glory and 
majesty of it 
are ahnost ter- 
rible. Nave, 
side aisles, and 

lateral chapels, all of singularly 
happy proportions, a vista of 
massive and yet graceful columns, 
a dim religious light, gloriously 
rich stained glass, and an all- 
prevailing notion of venerable 
age — such Is the sum of one's first 

Cordova is the next town on 
the programme. The cathedral 
is one of the most remarkable 
in Europe, having been Ijuilt by 
the Moors as a mosque in 770, 
and still retains the chief charac- 

ing to Gibral- 
tar by steamer 
they will visit 
Alhambra, the 
ancient palace 
of the Moor- 
ish Kings. The 
mag nificen t 
tions of the 
Alhambra have 
•Ev.Ln, rendered it a 

lasting memor- 
ial of the taste of its builders, and one of the chief 
objects of interest in Spain. 

teristics of a 
Moorish place 
of worship. 
Countless col- 
umns of mar- 
ble, porphyry, 
jasper, etc., 
brought from 
Carthage, Con- 
stant inople, 
Niraes, Nar- 
bonne, Tarra- 
gona,etc., support the roof, and divide the Cathedral into 
nineteen principal and thirty-six lesser aisles. Some 

THI cscuniAi^ 

ror fiirtKvr details apnly to Th« 8CORETARV, " Tlt» lt*»l*w of th« OhurctiM," 

5, Endalslrh Omrttenm 

LondOKi N.W. 

What Co-operation will do for Travel. 



exquisite arabesques and 

mosaics adorn the in- 
terior, A fine view of 

the town and surround- 
ing country can be ob- 
tained from the Bell 

Tower, Madrid and the 

Escurial will next be 

visited. The Palace of 

the Escurial is justly 

considered one of the 

wonders of the world. 

It was erected by Philip 

II., in commemoration 

of the Battle of St. Quen- 

tin ; its walls enclose a 

palace, a monastery, a 

church, and a royal 

mausoleum. In the 

palace are the rooms 

formerly occupied by 

Philip, in one of which 

be died. The church 

contains some magnifi- 
cent statues, and the 

mausoleum contains the 

remains of royal princes 

for many generations, 

including the late King 

Alfonso and his first 

wife Mercedes. Burgos 

and St. Sebastian will 

be called at en route for Biarritz, one of the most 

charming French watering-place ; passing Inin, the 

Spanish frontier town (near whicii is the hill of San 

Marcial, where on August 13th, 18 13, 12,000 Spanish 

troops under General Merino repulsed 18,000 French 

troops com- 
ma n d e d by 
General Reille), 
and Hendaye, 
where Custom- 
house examina- 
tion takes place. 
The Cathedral of 
Burgos was 
founded in 1221. 
Its lantern tower 
over the tran- 
sept is con- 
sidered to be the 
finest in Europie, 
and the artistic 
richness of its 
interior is 
scarcely rivalled, 
even in Spain, 
abounding in 

LEA^.rfl^a ON A p AND O. LIHift. 

DounT or LIONS dran^da. 

statues, tombs, bas re- 
liefs, stained windows 
etc. The Town Hall 
contains a coffer with 
the bones of the Cid. 
A short distance from 
the town - are the 
Monastery of Mira- 
flores and the Convent 
of Los Huelgas, con- 
taining monuments re- 
markable for their ar- 
tistic and historic value. 
The coast is rugged, and 
the configuration of 
rocks and shore has Ijeen 
so adapted by art as to 
present at every step 
fresh aspects of natural 
beauty. From Biarritz 
the party will return 
home through Paris via. 
Calais and Dover. 

This tour, in conse- 
quence of the expensive 
character of Spanish 
hotels, and the fact that 
the Spanish Government 
does not yet make con- 
cessions for parties 
travelling together, will 
cost fifty-five guineas for 

each member. 
Hotel accommodation terminates with the departure 

from Paris. The 

fare includes 

first-class travel- 
ling, hotel ac- 

consisting of 

bedroom, lights, 

and service, plain 

breakfast (bread 

and butter and 

coffee or tea), 


lunch, dinner at 

table d'hote, fees 

to servants, por- 
ters, and guards, 

omnibuses be- 
tween stations 

and hotels, and 

the services of 

a competent 


The party is 

to be strictly 

limited to fifty. 




t. trmtT m tahhiiii. 

r«r fMrth^r <l.t«ll. .pply to Th, .tOUBTAliy. "TH. Itovl^ *S,*S:d°r."rh*'SU<f".. Lo«««, K.W. 


The Pilgrimage Movement. 



A Twelve Daij?' ^wi^? jlolidail foii Ten ^mm. 

The Grindelwald Conference in 1894 will be divided 
into five sections. The first section, lasting from June 
the 30th to July the lilh, will be dev-otional m 
character. The second section, from July the i4tli to 
July the 27th, will be devoted to the discussion of 
Social rroblems. The third section, from July the 
38th to August the loth, will be the central and most 
important section, and wUl be given up to the con- 
sideration of 
Reunion and 
Church Pro- 
blems. The 
fourth sec- 
tion, from 
August the 
nth to Sep- 
tember the 
7th, will be 
devoted to a 
series of lec- 
tures for 
young peo- 
ple. The fifth 
section will 
consist of a 
week's lec- 
tures on the 
History ami 
Politics of 

being considered as an object lesson in democracy for 
the rest of Europe. This week will terminate with a 
pilgrin»age to the most interesting points in Swiss 
histoiy, Rutli, Sempach, Morgartcn, Einsiedeln, etc. 
Full details of this Pilgrimage will be announced 
^ater on, but they will be of the most interesting 

The sum of ten guineas will include second-class 
cctum ticket from London to Grindelwald, with first- 
:lass on the steamer. Meals en roufe, a week's hotel 
ccnmmodation at Grindelwald, a ticket over the 
' Brunig Pass to Lucerne, and three days' hotel accom- 
modation at Lucerne, with a return ticket to London, 
available any time witMn forty-five days. 

Supplementary tours will be arranged for (i) The 
Italian Lakes, Milan, and Venice. (2) The Grimsel 
and the Furka. (3) Falls of the Rhine. (4) ^^ermatt 
for the Matterhorn, and Chamoumx for Mont Blanc, 
and home by the Lake of Geneva. , . . 

The bqoking-feo will be on© guinea for tnis 
tour, half df which will berL-turned to any who may can- 
cel their booking up to one month of the date of starting. 

A s t h e 
hotel accom- 
modation at 
is very limi- 
t e d c o m - 
pared with 
that of 
Lucerne, and 
as a large 
number of 
booking s 
were refused 
last year for 
the month of 
August, those 
who intend 
to visit Swit- 
zerland un- 
der these ar- 
should send 
in their 
booking-fee at once, specifying the date upon which 
they intend to leave England. Special trains will leave 
London every Tuesday and Friday from June the 29th 
to September the 14th. 

All cheques should be made payable to Henry S. 
Lunn, and crossed London and County Banking Co., 
Oxford Street Branch. 

All letters and inquiries whether personal or by post, 
should be addressed to — 

li\e Secretary, 
The " Review of il^e G}]urches." 
6, Ei^dsleigh Cardens, 

Uridori, fl.W, 

Tut wtrrtiiHaiiN cvEHLOaKiHa aaiHcti.Hu.i> 



Novel Scheme for the Distribution of Christmas Presents. 


Cffer of 6n€ ^fundred ^oundd a4 a Start 

« » «■«■■■■««»« » «■■ » » » » « ««« » «»>« « ■«» 

HEN I projected this Christmas number, I contemplated issuing a certain number of free 
passes to the World's Fair for distribution among my readers. On looking more closely 
into the matter, I found that the sum available for such prize distribution would only suffice 
to purchase four tickets for the round trip, even at the minimum scale of the Polytechnic, and the 
liilEciilty of apportioning those tickets on any system save that of the lottery pure and simple was 
almost impossible, if every subscriber was to have a chance of securing a prize. Therefore I 
abandoned my first suggestion to make another, which 1 commend to my readers, in the hope that 
it may meet with their approval and support. 

1 set apart the sum of one pound for every I,ooo copies of this Christmas number sold, for 
distribution as Christmas presents on an entirely new principle. As I shall publish editions of 
100,000 copies, this is equivalent to the offer of one hundred pounds, to be given away according to 
the wishes of my subscribers. 

What I propose is to use this £'IOO as tiie water which you pour down a pump to make it draw, 
and I am not without hope that tliis comparatively small sum may be the means of a distribution of 
Christmas bounty on a far more extended scale than would otherwise be possible. My idea briefly 
stated is as follows : — 

1 invite my readers to establish a Christmas Present Distribution Fund, to whicii I undertake 

til contribute ;^IOO. 

At present every one is aware of the fact that while Christmas presents are exacted m a 
seasonable impost by many numerous classes, there are others to whom Christmas presents 
would be very acceptable, who never receive them. This is due to a variety of causes, the most 
common being a feeling of pride on one side and delicacy on the other, and the absence of any agency 
by which presents in money or in kind can be made without offence. At present, no public 
servant, excepting a jjostman or a philanthropist, ever receives any substantial recognition of the 
gratitude with which he is regarded by the public whom he serves. But there are many other 
dL-serving public servants to whom it would be both useful and just to extend some recognition of 
their services to the community. Unfortunately, however, there exists no method by which this 
sense of general indebtedness can find its natural and graceful expression. 

That gap in the machinery of social beneficence I propose to endeavour to fill by the establishment 
of a scheme for the distribution of Christmas presents. I invite any of the readers of this Christmas 
number who may desire to mark his appreciation of the services of any person by making him or 
her a Christmas present, to forward me the sum that he desires to be handed over, specifying the 
person to whom it is to be given and the shape which he wishes the present to take. I will add 
ten per cent, to the first thousand pounds of bona-fide Christmas presents sent me for distribution, and 
hand over the total to the persons indicated by our subscribers. In all cases, unless the contrary is 
expressly stipulated, the source of the presents will be regarded as strictly anonymous. 

A moment's reflection will indicate what a wide field of helpful effort this scheme opens up. 
There may be many of us who would be very glad to help to send half a dozen representative labour 
leaders to the World's Fair at Chicago. But as it will cost about £50 a head, this is beyond our 
means, and so nothing is done. If, however, ten per cent, of those who purchase our Christmas 
number were to send me a shilling postal order for this purpose, they could, with the added ten per cent., 
send eleven representatives of British labour to the World's Fair. Why should this not be done ? 
Or if ten readers were to aend £$ apiece to give an Exhibition pass to some one man or woman to 
whom such a trip would prove useful, the thing could be done. 

That i» only one Form of the suggested Association for the Distribution of Christmas Gifts. It is 
an open secret that, not so many years ago, one of the most univer!»ally respected of our labour leaders 
was reduced to such straits that he absolutely fainted for want of food, when he was actually engaged 
in public duty. No private person could have given him money without offence, but a public sub- 
scription by anonymous donors would have been a graceful means of recognising the gratitude of the 
community for laborious service honestly rendered. There is no reason why this Christmas ftesent 
distribution should not become a pleasant and opportune mode whereby the public can discharge 
some portion of its indebtedness to those who have sacrificed much on its behalf. This is especially 
desirable after a General Election, when some tried and trusty servants of the people have suffered 
heavy losses and much personal mortification. 

It is not merely because the proposed scheme supplies the necessary machinery for collection 
that I venture to press it upon the attention of my readers. Christmas boxes as collected now-a-days 
are often only nominally free-will offerings. They are levied as a tax, and paid under virtual 
compulsion. The dread of adding another to the long list of recipients whose customary " tip " soon 
hardens into a vested interest, has many times prevented the free flow of Christmas beneficence, Wt. 
may be able or disposed to give this year, but we may not be able to keep up the present next year, 
so we abstain from giving at all. My proposed scheme obviates both these disadvantages. It is pure! 
voluntary. 1 offer an opportunity for subscription. I do not press anyone to give a single ceni 
And as the subscriptions will be anonymous, no one who sends in a subscription this year will 
expected to repeat the gift next Christmas. 

England needs some simple mode of recognising by some such kindly tribute her sense 
gratitude for those who have spent themselves in her service. I am not without hope that as the yi 
roll on, this Christmas distribution system may attain wider and still wider dimensions, 
that no honour will be more highly prized by those who have done their country service than 
popularly subscribed Christmas gift made to those who have deserved well of their fellowmen. 

Endless are the methods in which such a system could be worked for the advantage of iioth doi 
and recipient. 

It offers a simpk and easy method of discharging a social debt A subscriber can send in 
cheque, and order a goose or a ham or a round of beef, to be sent to every minister of religion, 
or elementary school teacher, or Poor Law official in the parish or town in which he has prospered. 
The scheme could in this way become the natural outlet of thankofferings for prosperity, it could at 
""'Tiecome a useful means of making some acknowledgment to those whom you have, if not exactl 
wronged, yet managed to " best " in some way or other. In such a case it would be a kind 
conscience money. 

As a kind of aide memoire, I would remind subscribers who may be disposed to fall in with tl 
scheme of the following categories of persons whom they may care to remember in their benefactions,^ 
naming one or more individuals of any class as the object to whom their subscription is to be paid. 

(I.) Those who ttAVE deserved well of the State: — 

Philantliropists, Social Refortncrs, Trades Urionists, Politicians, VVritera, 

Soldiers, Sailors, Policemen, Firemen, Poor Law Offlcials, Teachers, 

Nuraea, Doctors, Ministers of Religiou, Public Scrvaots, etc 
(II.) Public Institutions :— 

(i) Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Children. 

{2) Dr. Birnardo'a and other Homes for Waifs and Strays. 

(3) The Social Scheme of the Salvation Army. 


'4I The National Vigilance Association. 
,5) - " ■ ■ - 

The National Lifeboat Institution. 
(5) Your Local Workhouse, for pictures, ; books, toys, and boxei for collecting papers. 
(lU.) Those who have benefited you:— 

Workmen, Tradesmen, Employees, or Pereonal Friends. 
Localities where your money has been made. 

The subscription may take any form- 
deleterious commodities. 

excepting that of intoxicating liquor, poison, and oti 

The cost of a ticket to Chicago and back and two months' board and lodging is ;^5o. 

Mudie's or W. H. Smith and Son's library subscription for a twelvemonth, a much-esteeme 
present by mimsters, teachers, etc., one guinea. 

Cost of sending any of the sixpenny magazines by post, eight-and-sixpence per 

Cott of newspaper collecting box, with glass front, and lettering, for local workhouse, ten shiliinj 





Cp^triia^ pi^e^eril! Di^Wibutioq, 1B92. 


To W. T. STEAD, " Review of Reviews" Office, 

Mowbray House, Temple, London, W.C. 

Please forward on my behalf as an anonymous* Christmas ^ 

Name t 

for which I enclose the sum of pounds 

P lease acknowledge receipt on postcard to 



• If I must inform recipient of donor's name, strike out the word "anonymous, 
t If you wish to distribute your bounty among several, write their names and 
addresses on the back. 


post-office orders, cheques, etc., to be crossed and made payable to W- T STEAD. 


World's Colu mbian Exposition, C hicago, 1893. 

Intending Visitors desiring to Ensure Satisfactory 

can uiningc for the complete trip before leavidg, trisvelling either INDEPENDENTLY or with GON OUDTED TRIPS' 

KiJI inforrtintiiin heforR stoning, ar.d gratuitous assistance from OAZE'S OFFICIAUS at all chief points. Special 
OHl&AOO PROGRAM ME '^rce for stamp. 

Off!:ia!ly Apfointid Intemaiian il PiuseHgir Agenti to tht Exhibition, and all Chi'f Oiein anJ Railway Liias. 
i:iOMDOIV, 143. Straod ; iS, W<-*t1»u,ne Grave ; Plcca- I IVEW YORK, in. Brradvay. 

dilly Ciftoa ; .ad 4. Noitbum»«rl»nd Avenue. I SOB TON, aci. Wash opt on Street, 
DU BI.I >V. <6. Suffolk Street. OlilC AGO, 43. £ast Van Buren 5U««, 
PJKRIS, 1, Rue Scribe, [ • '- 

Marvellous Effect 1 1 

Preserves and Rejuvenates 

the Complexion. 

Jdvenia Soap 


Chnrch Cottags. Uarj-lv-boHc Cbnrdt, LondoD, Oct Gth, 1892. 
Da^a SiK,— ^ am diil{ght4d to ondon* thi' opinion [ vtpTcued Id Auttralia that CJ«AT«r'c J<iT«bia Pnpantioiu uv nipQiior to aoy I bar* 

BT trisod 

hKhuito triad, Tb« Soap k»ps tbe iktii In pgrtKi urdcr, Mid i> moat f raciaat 1 RDomiof nd il to all IDj 

Tmlir Toiin, 



OEianrAL in 







Nacrii,\i.<;iA. rheimatism. 
GOUT, cancer, tootuache, 

UBNlNUtTIS ate. 


nAl'TIOy.— The orttaordinary Modical Kepo tn on the efB iency of CHLORODYNE render it of vital 
Importance that tha Public should obtain the ONLY GKSUINE, whicb bears the word*— " DR. J. COLLIB 
BROWNE'S CHLOKODYNE." Vice -Cli an eel lor Wood stated t tat Dr. J. CotLis Bbownb was andoubtedly 
the IKVBNT, R of CHLOKODyNE. Said in Bottlei, li. IJd., 2b. 9d., As. 6d. 

Sole Manufacturer, J. T. DAVENPORT. 83. GREAT RUSSELL STREET, LONDON, W.C. omly QBtnrrw 






THROW AWAY VOUR PENS, and Conduct your Corre- 
spondence on Modern Principles, 

A FurtDiKbt's Tr'.ilv,-i'1 cent ince voii of thr Superiority o( th* TTPBVBITU 

over tbe Ptn, and of the " DKKSIiORE " over all otbir Typewrtieia, 

Fm luitrui'tioft ti* Shorthanti IVrittrs. 

TThe Deusmove Xypeinri*ltei< Co., lad^ 


MEU HONUHBHT &T4TI01.J [Tele|)bsne No. ii,3>i. . 





Doyonearasumelentlir furtho Minorlt-ui 
of joar Bl»t«r«, ih« poor MNtrli oirh. itt 

PENNY A OOZIN more tor \iiiir 

BiHBBOf Muehei ih&n for itie common ltti]tiirhnt 
SmdUblateb? it you do jrou will 

VBK OPfliiV 



(SALVATION AKiM V SAI I UM \ : i ( t i ' 

____ . _ . .„ <*• f*t>tsi>\'>rs r> 

MBCtUSi!:, or Iht Irrril': 
i^AsT, M aw tltfarimf 

A I 

The ST am tUT* : 

"tl|* ttieki tr Mtms «' 
I MMbMi Army MatoltM 

K vec ^uinot obtain thnn xf-nd ■ poft^-md for dkiti'- ^'1 ii.ur^t 
»rr, ind copv of "An Anti^Phossy jjlW Kl;i^:. I>^ a 
ScsentJBt, wKich will be »cnt r sv toaj] rradcr^ oi " Tiik 
' or RkVirws '^ ChriBtmstc numbt-r, on appllettion to Com- 
Cadmak, iDir Quffn \'iclorLa Stri-clf LoDdoa« £.C. 

r»-rf Riprete/ttttlres Wanted In all ptfts of the Woria, 

CHARCOAL !d Ml\K, li., 4s., ft 6s. 
SISCUITS in Tins, li., 2i., i Is, 
]l.oze:nge:s 1d Tim, i/i^, 




■fW*. Imlstlito (a tMoMaia uul tO Si* 

ii« action u ui il Mf^vnt h«viii| 
" ""^f »• Il !»•• oo wucr in Alt' r«. 

4 ■ • ■>'•■■ f - 4j ... 

FURNI88 LINC^nwo. 







U <j|. l^iMfnn. [A Hc«(oa 

\^>' Il - :..- jji Ihi; r«i 1^'! S' .f^«, 

S|irriiiUilcl|li1«t livrfi 
ItiiMl lit Ho Irin.MljJ K • -n<tf<l 

iiilf iiliitf £xl.ilivtf>fiiirr ..... - ...V II ▼f'fltf tt> ri 
undtnlcnfd, vhn w Ij'x' ulail ■-. hxr-.-h r«ca iii 
nuilon In connniion wita the f •>ruji.-d'nf ot 

THOS. R0NAI.DSON 4 CO.,34, leadi" 
Ind at >nt«irp, 3, QmU «■■ 1 

Agtiiit in fijjfoH'-riiaK E J I, VITH7 A SO, u.. as. 1 

Concerning these 

Strong k Comfortable 

Horse-Skin Boots. 

are hhaptt] to j^vc comlurL ta Lender 
(eet.ntid fivimh ftpprmrimcVt wiib 
moce Hiirjbl ity' thun the olJ «vle 
boot. They an- drli^.htrullv soft, will 
iiot Click, and t>k?a br lliant polish. 
An il iiattited (>rice litt and tMti- 
n on ml, lent poalfree toanv Ar-i rous 
o( teitinit ihrie «iiB(orl»6le btol). 
t'-nd tbarc of fool on paptr or old 

■ hoe for li/.*", wi h rrmitinpfi-, and 
I ha Kond* «lll ha a nt by rttjrn ol 
I'lti, The iiriooiii'r',, tT*. 
M>t lUnilieuii, 3t«. ui 3S». 

" Sir Ittnrv Slmpa n, <-l' Wn J»or. 

■ l4>a f<i(jii iiirnd<i1 >iMi lluiir aim 
" bi.iita lu me. Wi I jo i kindiv acnd 

" "nr of v Mf yttxct lia>* for 

" l»il ta' boMi .'■ wr tra .Mi<. (!•. A. 
Woiaja.of Ha 4, Lypr it Viilaa, Al- 
dirahot, un UciuMr }>h, itga. 


>«1 .14, flilkapi^Mk%aM.E& 





REPOHTd if I.nKcitT. British Mrnicm. JniHiAi , H>«iir,iL G*;ri.TtF., MiorCAL 

MkciicAL ^HVCb, rtr. Pjtt icee m apilJc<tlon [o 

B. F, ATKINSON, 7, Mill St , Hanover Sq., London, W. 




Certain Remedy. 

£irRi:;TS friim LETTERS, tbs Orl.i^a's of fMcb can lie seen on applIcntioD. 

■' Whf^ I rams to jf^u I Mfrntd to b- dEiTtinK tuwtrds Iht nccstsitv of a rtditj] oprrminn. Kortunattty. joui iti^enuitvcaine to my «id, «nil 
yrii Rucc'»»(ull> overcimethe prculiirily cf my cjue by m truss Avhich y.u spr^islly coti'tructtd. After weiiing -.t for »lx mon (is (when it 
effe-'ua'lv M xhr liiii' prrvmr-il any d tccnt qI the bomi), tac heraia failed to appear on stmdinv up without the truss, evtn when 1 couKhed." 
-M.D.LoNii., F R-t^P- Ml* C.S., L.M., L.S.A. 

■f YoJr truu is more curative tbui any I knao o(,"—K. D, Du.iiLii. 

"DcvK Sir. " ai, Si. Thomaa Road, South Htcknef. 

■ 1 am dtlifihtcd 10 till vou that th- I u s i« »11 Ic-uld de«ire. I hive hal nj return o.' the rupture, and b. I. eire it will cuie me. . . . 
Mkke what us; jou lyke ut this letter; 1 will answer any qutitions ''S. Makchant." 

'■DuR SlMi " :;, Dyi r'a CI' ae Line, Frome. 

"... I rejTJriit aaan impfrativd duly one oxei towiffcr nn humanity lo pointout the pl«c4 whe.e reil heliicanbeob'ained. . . . 
I would not part with thi Bum for its wJjat lo gold '• W. T. Colis." 

"DeakSiii, " FilzwilUim Road, ClapiiMin, 

' 1 be* tothank you fir havinR cored me o( myrupture In so ihort a «pice of time. I had receiv d wrung treat jit nc bcfjre i ctme to you, 
■ad felt lh:it my use was incurable, bjt you Have aKieiabiy a jrprined m s, lor w hicli I ibill alwtya feel Rr^tciul 

■" Believe ne, youri failhfally, W. S." 

" Dear Sik, " Rodi>ey Road, Clapton, 

". , . t may lay that the eomf rtaMe fit cfthe truu ia lisply perfect; the hcraii, 11 fou know, ii entirely go:ie, and 1 a.n ctmpletelj 
cured and feel better lu health than I hive don j lor yea-t. " B. B." 

"De*rSir, ■ "86, Mijfield Roid, Go«p-rf, Hante. 

"Pard-in delay inacknowledjtinKthe reTfijil of vour Rl^ent Tra^s. bm have been wiitinK ts sie wba' elfi t ii wjuUl have noon my 
rupture. I am pleitid to tell you 'he remit it em n;nilv "alisfiC'oru. Mv do:tir toll me I ahould never g;t rid of the ruptjre unless I wai 
op? rated u ron. 1 am s ire hs will be veiy iniic!h»Li> prised when I visi: him nj^in. as there ii n3.v no vjtiolc sij^i d[ the ruptiirif, i have only 
worn your Cii*ati*'eTrua* two m'>n',hB, hot continue ii wear it yet ai a preveiiu' ve. It fitt.- 1 iplendioly consijerinp yon mide it f-nm thr 
measurtm-nl Isent yoj. I shall eerl.imlv call on V.1U the first time 1 come to toivn to ptriomll j Ihsok you for tie cite vou took, and I shall 
not fail to re.;fnnine[fd four ex'^elleni Tr 'Ss to all 1 eom in rnnta.t who may unfortuna;! ly he in need nl i iicli an articU^. 

■• F.S.-You iiijy make whit use you lik-- ni this biter." '• Yoj.-s very truly, W J. HA Y^;E. 



Alt kinils of Watches and Jevellery 
at Wholesale Prices. 

Gcnllertent Fir.e Silver Watch, fl-t crystal gas?, 

ladies' I'ioe S'lwef VVa'c'. flat cry til glass, 

iiiehly Aniihed movement. 2S** 
Youths' * me Silver Watch, ll II civ.I'1kI«s'.9S«. 
LtdieVGold Lever, in eiquisitu cbise I ta»ej, TO*. 
Gem's ditto, rn^'ne turned cs^ef. Uto, 
lint's Silver Kevleaa I Piste L>ver<. 60b. 
Cent's Silver Keyled f-Flite Levir, hunt. us rs«e«, 

Gent's Kine fJold Keylisj Leve », itronj heavy 
easel, ioo«. 
For Wntcho* and Jewallenr of apvclail 
VAlUQ «eo liUr newCatalOKU^f containing' 
ov«r I.OOO i<lustrati<.nB, and l.tOn to-tl- 
mo -< lata, Kratin and post -free on applica- 
tion to any part of tho world. 

Cheque* and P.O. Ordcra to he mida psytbte t« th« 


', 1L.OMDON, ^.<Z. U\air MASSiON HOUSE.} 

1Sffanurn,cit.ui:*«p t. 

Nqw 111 iJi*^ rated Catalo^uOi POiht tree 
upon applic-ition to any part 

Hmulrffff. fif Teiytimortmit fto*it aft pflrf^ nf f/tt IVvrtd 
drtf 9 Ui, iti!utatifi rxulfrnf tim-:ktfpwg fiiialit-ts of our 

R. AMBR09Er Esq.r Cloyne T«rracOj Quft«n«- 
town* lr«lAnfl, wrltaa :— 

"It givti IDC much pleasure lo iest fv m to tbc 
exccUcrt limp-lreepirip a Jilliei of the waich [ received 
fr&m Tou. 1 h*ve tes,. « it wi!h a eut> fired here 
liVpryfiav by elc^trv^Lv mx anr o'cljck, Gttcnwich limc, 
and have never :Qund U vactll ste even one minute, 
I »hil1 bave g^rcAt conddeDce Id lecoromcadiBg 50m 
Company. ' 
Company*! Ha.n&|er-llr. JL. PERCYi B!rmlngh&m 

X H£: 

*' Review of Reviews" 


Will be sent J>oii free (o miy part of the World 
for 12 Months for 


S«nd fuU addr;», with Postal Order, to 

The MaDsger, ■■Relief of Reviews." loibray Honse, 
H'Tloll street, Londoii. W.C 


''Review of Reviews" 


IVill i)i' liiailid lo any adtiics^ for 

Tbe Editor of the Ameiicm Edition is Dr. ALBERT 
SHAW, ftcd Sub.c.iptioQs itoulJ b: Kit to 

The Manager. "Reflflf of RiTlews" Office. 13, Astor 
PlacB, Het York, 




For StPeogtheolDg, Bettutlfyln j, and Freservlol tJbe Hair. 


J 5 

mr 0RI4D- re: N^o vy N e: ]> 


Used by Thousands Daily. 

Its Superiority is Unsurpassed. 















produce: a 


^. in a few wects, without injury to tijc skin. 

The World Renowned Remedy for Baldness 

rrim whatever caute arising. As a Prmiuccr of 


!Ln"hr^2fs''?.K^^^^^ G..yH.i. to .„ <,rip„^ Colour, nev., 

!•., ai., 31. M., »Bd 5., M. per b" tl^ Fronfrhr , ^7^- !. '^ "^""^ ^'"'""'^ ''^ °""^' ^"J""''"^ Ingredient. . 

W receipt of it. M , 28. loV ai 7ld ^d U PnS'T'H ■ "^'^<'"=^«' «"<* Pcrfumors ;.Il over tl,e World, Or «0t direct 
i^t>TO Postal orders preferred. Manufgclured only by «ui uir«x 




London to New York in less than 7 Days. 

The imdcrnotcd Mjigrtttu-rnt Steamers, amongst the fastest alloal, willx un- 
surpassed passenger acL-oinmodation, and fttted throughout with the electric tight 
are appointed to sail regularly between 

Southampton & New York Every Friday— 

JKu|f«i«k tfh 'WlcitoPl^ ,. 

(lA^Jii Scrtw) . 

S,000 luLs 

. 12, BOO 




. s,ooo „ 

. la.soo 



» Tt - 

. 8,00 ca „ 

. I3,Sf»0 


Vup** Bl*Kuaix>olc 


. „ 

. K3,800 


FarFarn., tic. appir raBMITH, SUNOIU8 & CO., iij Agtnfs, 



Helioscope Laobro, 


The Ecu and 
Cheapest Houu for 
nil kiddjo of Lartemi 
Ptr/eJion i>J iiH LiiiikrtiS. aui Slide, new or 
sccond^liandi which 
can bt Jud oa hire«t 
very l-w term*, or 
parchAHd it inosC 
mndrrAtf pr-cf s.The 
LtrtrFftt Slock in ihe 
World. ■ All intT. 
CJtO'^ fitiould ■*» nd Tor 

btiuc) Jons. 430 pa^^ 
^ii' ji ampR. Api»n 
Ci^iiilo^ue h 3cCotid- 
haad Li^la» ^oaE 
f r tc* 

4H, Watei-loo Koftd. London* 8. IT. 



A F<iok of Rererenc: for Librarians, Bookseliers, 
Journalists. OlerEymon, and ali Contribu- 
tors to the literature of our tint;. 

It covers the periodical literature of the jcar 1891, and 
I'lintains many improvements on the previous issue. 

This Index is incomparably mote elaborate than any other 
in the same fietd. It contains many portraits of Editors and 
Writers. Bound in stilf cloth covers and gold. 




msEcnntAN, unendowed, depending entirely upon public benevolence. 

Receives fatherless children from early Infancy and cares for them untti they are 
15 years of age. 315 children a^e now in the Asylum, and the cost of their maintenance 
and education is £3,000 per annum. 

To meet this expenditure Annual Subscriptions and Donations are urgently needed 
and earnestly requested. j. ^OlOf ILiJl.M'D £iI3iarJE.I%]>s, 

Office.— ^S, Flnatowry Circus, E.G. Secretary. 



(Bi-own's Patent) 


B^netp BueJ^s, and Steels p rot eot«d by Leatl^eri 

Every lady ^bould try them and they will wear 
no other. Nt-w dre»ftc8 should be fitted with 
them. 'I'hey Improve and*j- up Uie fjffure, 
an ii with out e xcepi J on are t En M '-< «t O u ra b l«i 
andj LhercfQ^C, the CtiOfLpvat Corflot* iti 
the market. 

Elegr^nce ! Comfort '. Durability I 

The Coach SrAIMr Hl'SK f "I'^J J nsrij IH thcst 
Corsits I- warranted U MMI A K ABLE. 

S 11 p<rF pa.ip. 

Also bettL-r qualilics, IfXt and lO/O. 

Ord^ from any rrspfilnbU Draptr or Ladit^ 


tf Beware or WoRTiiLtss IniTATIONS. Ja 

L. Ra^-SOLD? & C(..("Thf5^;^''-)Po>TSJi»ouTH 


3.— i lead ami Pmiliuun i-in. Tube, 
DOUBLE Woven wire MAtTRKsS, 
6 ft, 6 in, looE bj- 1 ft. widr. Bottcm frtmt 
in one piece. Mo trouble to put together. 
Puh particullra and Urge Iltusumtitill tEDt 
CD receipt of postCJid. 



Ev*Ty descFtption of BED- 
direct from the M>nDbcturer. 
tlluEtnted Price Lins post fne. OHARLBC 
RILEY, Fnetiua Street, •Irmln^am. 



M, IM Ikl ■■.••1i 

: r.;n III. «i. till 

.. h^t ihd will- « 

■ ■ ■ \ -■■-■'• •'i;!' " ■— 

Ltdft Btstrle God W Mtli ««it t 
ere iMlKliJrttt — i;:, Mar.Lc f>(ndc, 

■ trifl"*" 


■r-ONXlttftt » i QnlH M»»wl' | «t Ihll InternallOCll Exhlh'tlOl | London IB34. I I Aorwcr^ lags I r" far« i8-a" t 
Aft ..-H A<>l.n»wl*d««(l t« bo tKo Mo»t Reliable TimeNoaper* .r ^..,j„u.u. I... u>.ru.,i i.. .,, |tu. '., t .„ .^ .„„■ , jj 

11 i»t^i ..«, ,M» I, I,. „|i ,«(,! .,,,1 ,„r. ..iiM <i»ri it I.. ..-ciiF M r t..- i ■ ml iBitt nmtl'm t m ^roi eg. f nt- Bci'-t Wirci. i< ',. i„ .77™..^ 

. p-r,. ^ . , . .I.-.. , ,..,. ,.„i It .... ..„,.. ,,..1 |T^7-^ ,y | ,v a - 1 , . t i V. uk- h.."! | 7,;. " .. ,,Z ,hr l^ "mnwa. 



bi:t i. Flu srjtT or 


is JNni:ED 1. 


This i: .\.\*> I h&v'- ftetualy ftfv^QBwmf^ %nd Am gov tr-.crPulD|[ tb' gift b^ presenllnii fT«e i>f i,;:.Jir^(% Uj? loih Ki;biiok 
o'^ my Cftt&lOfue (now rriidv) eonfanlnv ^ IMU Tiftlmoilitt BTid EnKrusini^i of Hpv urd Fka^i -riAbJlQ Wmcliei uni 
Jn^ilerj of pto^j d^tcripTlnn. It it n Work nt Arts, tte BnurAvtujei bting hy tbcf-e vWlkiomi Krtls'a, 
Ald'tdgv nnd TilbT. K.A. Thi» Cfttnt f^a I aio st over JCLOOO to pttKiui-v. iiencl jour mtme 4nd A<idTe4d Jrom vrij 
iwrt af t^dB woTl^ ftTid » popj ■ lit b« Knt pt*t'fl nhd pc»t free 



JS MiTCJU.ESS. ThP dinnoralt u< Crrn^t si lfumi«« LwtiB ud Budnen, mml Miintt l»> ileMeiwl rmin Iho Mtliiinf »nr 1ft 
Eit«nmc«ltii.tiK»ii-ciiv,.l Thof vlU atud lO •oM I Uil hoU. Cm b« BUJnntml « llH iMin.I K«il Oi-nn trtUijui lur o( ..KtcUon. -l.^ 
Mabamnib] t)» mou CdiUi.r'i. prnon with ocmfUi'iun. TtaD ElHtrls Oold U tlia »m( 1 l^N Ljl ur thrnuiTlxntt lt» csU» mcul. nl u 

.-^i I.} L4 ewoi'A l>ikmand 



T>,^mnnd KkT' 
I,; , in uQUil 
I ftt Bilrer, ^ 

1/8 if<; 


per t*it. I 




J>\Atii iii ria 


gri^t lUAlTt, 



•* Mr. A. J, %V.»uDHOl'«x 
will be nb!!)!^ bj Hr Sold- 
•telti IbrnudlDg Lli latMt 
Olaloaiw. A Wiilch at 
Ifc. «d. iiiirchtMd t.r Mr. 
WoodhoutQ ',n ^b"-' hu 
bntfti In timfliwiliiK • 
Gold Ltvrr coiling la 
Culiieii. ABfora r^aranoe. 
It slves uiilvfrial aMifaC' 
tton. anrt Ur WLodbcniH 
will fnromnitntl M- Gold- 
stain fur te lioK r?likb'e>F 
Ifolefl ; h^tn far riinctualitT 
Mr Qoldilcin 5. at Ill-err j 
I to malw &l; dB« of tbli 
perfvctlj unii'liiiied ffitl^ 
tnoniai. -Frin Lodue,CIij 
■uit-ibe Sti. JnK, i, .iifi. 

FOR Size or riH gER c ot hole im ?iscs of cabr 


halfhooii KlFiE. Ht Ti'll 
Flrt JliM' i HuoM or Uu- 

mid « rr liriiht tutut, 
■tpiileiicKl }ad(M M- 
ocWnL i-on (n*. at. M- 


Mlud Atfi* Drffl Rlnr^ 

yrm Fe»l Uh^t Hmr, 
iin4<r(pci>ble (rom • 'JO 
Oi]l""-A Bin*. M«t mmr- 
nU<<n<i ofTcr aver mhla. 
riii4 J^rva. li* 4«1< 


Bill il Ban.l nr Wcddlni 

Hin^ brAQtifiillir nn>'h«l. 

Koij <m'-Ai lo 1u-» cold. 

H rti Depn* : 
S4 OXFORD srRCKr, Mf. 

fnm I'o ir In Fr«™H *liit*r CHrd^ni) 


rilamoB^ i>TMlY*d Suina 

Olp>r JUtK. 'i-lf a™t 
kik] rteity 

I aaiuAdiua.aL.ftL 

Soit my ca/v ^ddit set ; 

He* Stfr» fur JptrtKerv ml f»-lieral Fpni-T 


BRIxrON, 8.W 


Hr Jam<« Gl r^iijT, of 
B<iTalBankHoUH Brrrhin, 
N B, n;* : ■' I witli to 
boy II Ladlfi' fnd Qeit *i 
Watch. Wbile (hocllnn 
■ itb Mr. Ufrberi GKdttoLa 
be ehowid me a Wttch be 
( lit frfiD 70Lr, thai made 
n e think of jroitr flrm liae 



f .5 — Crdtn (rom »lin>»d 
n u.:t frf OQceM'dai d bjf 
Dikft or FoitO&ce Ontc, 
Itirv leu iteirpe btinc ur- 
^eM In Eoi^laiid. Qoodp 
cu not undrr anj rir- 
ctimi'aDOftbeicat Lnltet 

BSORRXS ClOrdOSTBrN, THTa-tohwaali©*' 

•TRirr, w 

P'or.' II t 30, OXrORO 

{Dnt door Totbe 5^w VX'OT^ 
Mu-io Kail). 




«ALE ortha etookoF tho SHIFFtCLO M tNUFtCTURINa 
SluVCRBMirHft' «8SOC!AriO», ftcarborouKh, ate, 

To DISJ^ObE OF THE remainder of the STOCK op mcii-ci^si 



Any Krtidc» loc, or part of lot, small cr lar}^?, will b« s<;iit post or rail, 
Cfcrriaffe paid iMJth wa^s, on approval ; if not pt-rft^tly >w4Eiataclory 
it may bt- returnt-d At the Ass,>ciulion'fl exp*?n5c and risk. 

The solid silvtT, for whit'h %4:e list, is rcUucca only 35 pLT ct'nu 


t^pDc dozen Spormji anrl Korks, punintced Thickly platrd pur« silver of 
the sloiitJid] J ^Liuiitics on iniprov'L-d white nickei silver. 

Appemraacti and dbc cqujil 
to Bterling silver. 

Plain Putt, ins, f'liidlt: 
or Old Eaglieh. 


OrdtoJiry price per dozen 

A j B At 



Table spoons or forki 

Dessert „ ., 

Tea, salt, or vgf; spoons ... 

Sauce ladles, eacli ... 

GravT spoons ,, 

Soup ladle* , 

s. d. 1 a. d, «. d. 

36 ' y> > 4a 

30 aj 1 35 
>S a IS 6 ig a 
4 ■ J « 4 9 

10 6 e A ' 11 6 

13 6 t la 6 ! 13 ^6 

s. d. a. d. 

4a ss 
3* ] 4S 
91 s6 

S » : 5 6 
ta ] 1^ 
H 1 15 

B" is the 

The ^'A** qualitv is the ordirury fifst qualitv- 
»PCond. The "* At ' is h special oitra ht-avily-platcd quaJlty. 

50(Joz. " iV quality ApoatleXt-Mpoonn, iBs. rli doz, 

t.safitinn,illy KootJ, luEl slzc. fines? quality, balanced Secure 
Handil.', p.mltii- Shear btcd, loa, ; Dessert 5ixe. am. per do/. ; 
Meat 01 Garrif Carver* to, Ss, 6d. per pair * &tc<'l«, 5*. 

100 (loz. White balant:ed Handle medium size Table Knives, 
15s* ; De-ssrrl, ua, per doz. Carvrrs^ fis, 6tL pair; Steeipp 58. 

i.»Q doi. White Handle Tabic Knives, r^s, ; Dcsarrt, 7a. 6du 
dkrvi' L- 4hj [j^ inr.-i'-, spoons, Kurk?*, Ciillcry\ aj ^itneaa. 

3o llandsoirc Walnut casts, heautlfutly ^.ined Satin and P]ii«h, 
eacticonljiinin^ rji pairs tish £itcrs» Knives and t'orks^ best real 
IvoiY Handles, each pitce heavily m unUd in Hall-tiiarked Ster- 
ling Silver, enifravt'd or plain blades, ^7 7B. 

ao Cases aainct Drsacit or Fruit Knivts and Forks^ £7 7«, 

4oC:uM:aof i'aiT Sterling Silvcr-Mminted Ki^^h Tar vers, 358. 
Tt-a, Lottee, bn^c-ir. and Cream, Htsi Silver Plate un Nickel Sdver, 
A I yiialily, ^i-. n-s. set. Teapots^ 6 js. each* 

6 ditcoftets, vcryt-hoice Flutrd Silvcrand other patterns, ^£14 r4Ji* 

gtr set. la same quatity small at'ttrnoon Tea Sets n pi«ea>. Tea, 
ugar, and Cn am. '* Queen Anne ' «nd other choice patterns, 
£6 6m. aet. Tea Fola aJ^^ne*, 508. each. 
other patterns. Ai quality plat*; on WV white metal and nickel 
ailver. £s 5*- ^''tl ^6 6s» Tea PoIh, as. and 30a. 

50 Pretty Afti-rtioon Small Tea Sets, same quality rTeapot.Sufrar, 
and O cam), *a»,, xis. per act. TtapoCBt t^s, and 7iii. jo KttiTtrSp 
Lamps, and ^iand^s ii 3*-^* £* 4^-t '"^ ;^SRs. i:? Massive a^-in. 
Trays, wlih handles, heavrly plated on NtckeJ Silver, beautiiully 
engraved. ,^io ii?h. 10 very tcood SA-in* Trays, £3. 3s. and £^ 55. 63 
pretty J J-in. Salvera, plated OD nicked silver, ais. 13 ditto, excep- 
tionally nood, with feet, 41s* so very choice Cnieta, best plate on 
nickel silver, six beautiful square hob-nail cut crystal bottles, S4S. : 
four bottles, 6q9. 40 Cruets, thoroughly good, plated on nickel 
silver, six cut ^Inss hottles, 43s. ; Tour bottles, joa. ; newest 
patterns, too Luni<!h LVueis, salt, pepper, mustard* Ss. fid., ;oSk 6d«f 
3tfl, 900 pretty Salt Celhirs, pla'ed on nickel, 4a. each. looTooJit 
Racks, Ba.6d. and 71 B. each. aoH^n-'some E.t*. and cak tock-up 
spirit IrameSf three ho*- nail cut iTVBtaE l^nt'.lcs, £4 as< 
THmiV HAMDftOME ENTRKE DISHES- rtmovwhle handles, to 
form two difihes. all htavily ptatedf At qiiajity, on nickel silver, 
plain oval, octoi^on. or fluted silver poitternS, 70B, each, 40 Entree 
Diahea, simitar, oval shape, $». 6d. each, SSets of four Hand- 
some Dish Covers, Zi^ 159, set, *j Revolving CombinBtion Soup 
Turretia and Hot Water Entree, Fish, Vef^etable, Uacon, etc^ 
Dishes, heavily plated, on nickel silver, engraved or plain, £7 7s. 
SmaJler, £6 to*. 50 very pretty fable Lamps, coloured glass 
shades, 3;s. loo Jam Spoons, best plate on nickel, as, each, aoo 
pretty Serviette RingB« plated on nic\el sdver^as. acw I,Jtdu's' and 
Gents Poeket Knive»* 3 blades, as, 100 Butter Coolers, good 
and prettv* Ss. 6d« each. 100 Real [vory-handle Uutter Knives, 
as. 100 Real Ivory Handle Pickle Forks, as. 200 West silver 
plate Knife Reata, aa. each, loo Hest silver-plate Nutcracks, 
BB. and sSh too Pairs |;ood steel Scissors, is- nnd as. Note,— 
The prices quoted above are not the prices now required, but 
the ordinary selling prices, half of which is only wanted. Send for 
Catalo}^e, free, for Kpcrgnes, Dishes, Table Uimps, Fancy Silver 
Goods, and a great \-aricty of other articles. 

400 Hall-uiarked Sterlirujr Sikcr Salt Cellars, Butter Knives, 
pickle Korka, Servirtte Kir|fs, Jam Spoons, and Pepper Boxes, 
marked olf at 5s. each, net. Salt Spoons, as. each. 
A* ROBERTS, Ksg,, Silversmiths' Association, Scarborou^, 



The Christmas number of the Re\tew OF Rfvirws 
possesses something more than the passing interest which 
usually attaches to extra numbers pubhshed during the 
Christmas season. While possessing all the eternal in- 
terest of love, courtship, and marriage which is expected 
in a regulation Christmas story, there is imerwoven iato 
the romance so much actual information of a practical 
kind that when it is finished the reader ouKht to know 
exactly what to do if he decide to ro to the World's Fair 
at Chicago next summer. The reader is therefore respect* 
luUy retjuested to recommend it to any who may be con- 
templating such a trip to the New World. It should be 
understood that it is quite distinct from the ordinary issue 
of the magazine, and is a story complete in itself. 

In choosing books for presents during the festi\-e 
seasoti, we are disposed to think— however egotistical it 
may appear— that the purchaser could do nothing better 
tlian offer a set of volumes of the Keview of Reviews. 
As a record of contemporary historj', politics, and litera- 
ture, these volumes occupy a unique place. They contain 
the essence of all that has occurred oi importance during 
the period which they cover. Volume I. is unfortunately 
out of print, but Volumes II. to V. may be had imme- 
diately, handsomely hound in cloth gilt, at js each, or if 
purchased by the set, 20s, carriage paid. These volumes 
cover the period from July, 1S90, to June, 1892, 

Or, if a less pretentiMis present be required, it may be 
found in thi- new and cheaper edition of "Character 
Sketches," by W. T, Stead. This handsome quarto 
volume, in cloth binding, contains many of the best 
"Character Sketches" published in the KEViEWf of 
Reviews, an-1 being printed on thiclf, expensive paper, 
and profusely illustrated, it is one of the }reiy cheapest 
gift books in tiie market. 

Others may wish to present literary or JoiirnaliMic 
friends vrith some- thing more usefiil than ornamental. To 
such may be rccnmmeiided the " Index and Guide to the 
Periodicals of tlie W'orld, " which is universally admitted 
to be the best work in its line ever published It is an 
absolutely indispensable work of reference for LibratianS, 
Booksellers, Journalists, Clergymen, and all contribntors 
to the literature ol our time. It contains an accurate de- 
scrit tion of the leading magazines and reviews of the v wld, 
and a detailed index of all the articles that appeared last 
year in the chief English and American magazines. 

Some may think that a book dealing w ith the Passion 
Play at Ober .\mmergau is more appropriate to the Easter 
than to the Christmas season, and strictly speaking, such 
is the case; but, nevertheless, many may find in "The 
Story that Tra;is''ormed the W. rl I " (clotii boards, gi t, 
2S 6d ). a present peculiarly acceptable to some people, 
containing as it does the full text of tlie play (in German 
and English), as well as reproductions of the photographs 
of the play, and other pictures. ^ 

Christmas cards are still in great demand, but the 
Chri?tma.s Booklet is a prettier and a somewhat handsomer 
so'ivenir, A dainty specimen of this cla-s of literature is 
entitled, ''James Russell Lowell; liis Message, and How 
it Helped Me," by W. T. Stead. This may be had in a 
64-paged booklet, with a portrait and other ill nslrat ions, 
daintily bound and fastened with ribbon, and enclosed in 
an envelope ready for posting, is. 

Ail the above may be obtained through any bookseller, 
or from the Review of Reviews, 125, Fleet Street, EC, 

viii Advertisements. 


Rome & Chicago, 1893. 


For Twenty Guineas Inclusive. 

Special Lectures in Rome during Holy Week by Professor J. P. MAHAFFY (Dublin 

University) and Rev. H. R. HAWEIS. 


For Fifty Guineas Inclusive. 



\Ji R. J. T. W. PEROWNE, M.A., of Hartlebury Castle, Kiddenninster, with the assistance of the Rev. Dr. Ltmf, 
^^ *■ Editor of "The Review of the Churches," has organised co-operative parties for Rome and Chicago nejrt yew. 
The great success whicl. has attended the scheme of co-operative travel devised by the Toynbee Hall Touring Clui 
and adopted by similar institutions, has led him to conclude that arrangements for tours of a better character might bt 
widely welcomed. 

(i) He has accordingly decided to talce a party to Rome next Easter, which he will be able to do at a coit .f 
twenty guineas each for an eighteen days' trip. The twenty guineas will include second-class return ticket London t. 
Rome, via Ostend, Basle, Lucerne, and Milan, first-class on the steamer, first-class hotel accommodation en tvufy at 
Lucerne, Milan, Genoa, and Strasburg, and first- class hotel accommodation in Rome. First-class railway ticket through- 
out five guineas extra. 

The Rev. J. P. Mahaffy, Professor of Ancient History in the University of Dublin, and the Rev. H. R. Hawiii 
have kindly consented to deliver three lectures each in the evenings of the stay in Rome. 

(2) Mr, Perowne has also arranged to take a party to Chicago in the summer, and vriU be able to cany out the 
tour for fifty guineas each. The charge of fifty guineas will include first-class ticket from London, saloon on the Guio. 
Steamers Alaska or Aritona, Pullman cars to Philadelphia, Washington, Chicago, Chautauqua, Niagara, and Net* 
York, with first-class hotel accommodation in each of these cities. The entire tour will occupy about thirty-two days. 

As the correspondence will be very heavy, it will be conducted by Dr. Lunn's Secretary. All letters should ther*- 
fore be addressed — 

THE SECRETARY, "The Review of the Churohas," 

5, Endsleigh Gardens, London, ^'W. 




Rome & Chicago, 1893 



Organised by Mr. Woolrych Perowne (see page uiii.J will include— 

First-cluss Return Railway Coupon London to Liverpool (30/- allowed wt^n Itus is n^it required). 

Return Saloon Liverpool to New York. 

Two Days in New York. First-class Hotel. 

Pullman Car to Philadelphia (Pennsylvania Railway). 

Dinner in Philadelphia. 

Pullman Car to Washington. 

Two Days in Washington. Urst-class Hotel. 

Pulliflan Car to Chicago over the Allegheny Atoimtains. 

Five Days in Chicago. First-class 

PuUman Car to Chautauqua. 

One Day at Chautauqua. First-clais Hotel. to Niagara, where the party will he met by.cotiveyance, and taken a carria|:e drive of fourteen miles, embracing the 
chief points of and finest views of the Jviagara Tails and Whirlpool. 

After dinner ct the Hotel, the party will proceed to New York in Pullmans, imhark on the Guion steamer and return home. 

The IMTlRt Tour will OCCLPV about THIHTK-TWO days, A.ND CA."* be PROLONGtU bv arhanccme.nt. 



Second'class Railway Ticket, via Dover, Ostend, Basle, Lucerne, Milan, and Genoa. First-class 
Ticket five guineas e.xtra. Hotel accommodation en route at Lucerne, Milan, Genoa, Strasburg, and 

full Hotel accommodation in Rome. 

The following are the Arrangements for Booking: — 

t. The cost of the trip will be twenty guineas for each person. This sum will cover second-class railway fares, first-class on 
the stcamtwats, meals and accommodation as specified above on the journeys, and first-class hotel accommodation at Rome 
for ten days. The liotel accommodation will include bed, lights and attendance, breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Anything 
ordered specially beyond this roust be paid for to the hotel pfoprictor by the person giving the order. 

3. Any one wishing to travel first-class throughout the entire journey can do so by paying an extra five guineas. 

3. The party will travel together on the outward journey, but on the return journey each member of the pirty will be at liberty 

to break the journey at any of the principal stations after Milan, returning at any time within forty<fivc days. 

4. All charges for luggage. r> frcshments otlter than those named, and other incidental expenses must be paid by the member 
f of the party by vvhom they are incurred. 

5. The booking-fee will be two guineas, which amount should be paid at once. The balance must be paid on or before March 

■ St. If anything should occur to prevent any one who has booked a place from accompanying the party, the booking-fee 
will b: returned, hsi tos. 6d for preliminary expenses, if notice b: given pritr to March 1st. After these dates the book- 
iog-fee cannot be returned, but the ticket can be transferred to a friend. All c''eques should be made payable to J. T, 
Woolr,yrh Perowne, and crossed London and County Banking Company, Limited. 



- oTOeo»( 


The R«v. Canon Flemins. B.O., writes from The Residence. 
York. St'ptL'intMjr 7, 189Z : "Canon Ikining lias pleasuie in staling that he 
has used the Carbolic Smoke Ball with great success. Its use not only 
checked the progress of a heavy cold in its earlier stagtes, and removed l^ 
but has prevented it from e&ing*down into the chest, and preserved his voice 
for h's public duties," 

The Rev. H. Baugh, Kimpstin Vicnnge, Bedford, writes : I have 
found the Carbolic Smoke Ball v. ry beneficial, both for the voice and prevent- 
ing colds, I have leeomminded it to many friends. Kindly refill my Saioke 
bait, and return it by first post" 


The Rev. Dr. Lunn wci -•> I' 5. Erdslei^h Gardens, London, 
N.W,, November 16, 1S91 : ' I have much pleasure in teatifytng to the (Treat 
value of your Catholic Smoke Ball. It lias been used in my household viiih 
the best results in cases of bad Catarrh.'' 

The Rev. T. Rogers writes from Llanrindod Wells, Kadnorahire, 
May 2h kS.»i : " Vour Cai bolic ?mokc Ball is a most ethcaeious remedy. It 
hai completely cured me of a dry iiasal catarrh of very long standing," 


Chailas Moore, ESii.f wntcs fro:n Snnnyside, BirdunRton, 
\Ve;tgaie-o!i.ben, October 9, 1891 ; " Your Carbolic Smoke Bali has 
afl'orded immense relief to my wife, who has sufTcrcd severely from Brjnehial 
Asthma. When t bought the Ball she was unusually bad, and it acted like 

Miss Huddleston writes trom Walmersley House, near Bury, 
Lancashire, October 15, 1891: ' Miss Hiiddleaton is findinf the Carbolic 
Smoke Ball a Rieat blessing for Asthtn.i. She is very glad to «ay it is doing 
ber a great deal of good when hope had almost gone." 


Or- H. D. Darling, M.D>, writes from Linden Cottice, shepherd's Weil, Kent. AprI 18, 1892 t " I had w^ei the 
Carbolic Smoke Ball only a few times whep it gave me immediate relief —altboujh I am Sj years of age, and have sutfjred more 
than one-tbir«l of that ttme from Bronchitis com pleated with Asthma." 

Qencal Faeken writes from 214, Cromwell Road, S.W., January 10, t8ih : *' Thi- Carbojic Smoke Ball has proved 
most beneticial to two members of my family, who are constant sufrt:r<.-rj from setcre colds and Bronchitis." 


J. Harcreaves, Eeq., of MancheUer, writes, August 28, iSjt : "Since using the Carhottc Smoke Ball I can hear 
my watch tick ilirM or four inches away, which I have not done fur months." 

Mrs. KlnfSley writei fron the High Hou e, Woking Villa; e, .May 10, iS^i : " I am most thankful io be able to *ay 
that my hearing still continues to improve, so 1 am anxious not to miss using the Carholi.- Smok; Ball even for a day. The 
Catarrh has entirely disjppeared." 

Sore Throat. 

The Rev. H. 8. Vlaka Turner writes from Pjtter Hamw irth, near Lincoln, November 15, 1891 : " I have derived 
very great benefit already from the uje of the Carbolic Smoke Ball for my throat." 

Ttre Rev. Of, Hltchens write from 93, Gloucester Strce , Belgra.ia, S.W., January 1, iSgi ; '■ Your Carbolic Smoke 
Ball relieved the bead ai.d throat to a large extent." 

One CARBOLIC SMOKE BALL will last a family several months, making it the cheapest remedy in the world at the price 
— lOl , post free. 

The CAfiBOLIC SHORE BALL can be refilled, when empty, at a est of St., post free. 


27, Prince's Street, Hanover Square, London, W. 
14, Roe de la Pais, Pari*. 196. Broadway. New York. 73, Front St., Toronto, Canada. 


Contents and Illustrations. 

Fro I of uo 


The I'rinc«?ss of Caprera 

Mrs. Niuhtingale 

A Pair of Lovcre 

" And listened to the Christmas bslls" 

" A dry ■»{] withered httle rose now" 

"Those were her ejTs" 

Chapter I. (Rosa) i 

"The old f[ell reasserted its power" 

Stratford Chiireh... 

ThriMijiJi Ihc Fields by tlie Avon 

Chapter il. (Ideal and Real) i 

The iJoctor 

Ttrc koodee „ 

" iVolhinj; in all Europe like The Rov\-s" 
" From the summit of this Tower Charles I." 
Ha warden Cliuich 

1 l>e Nelson Monument, I.ivcrpool 

The Cathedral, Livtrpixil 

Chapter III. lOtf at Last) : 

Jnott Comfiton ... ... ... 

Tlie Professor 

Irene Vernon 


The White Star Tender ,,! 

Chapter IV. <On Board tho >• MaJ««tlc " i 

The Wiiiie Stii; Liner .l/ri^<>//f 

Mrs. Irwin 

Off Queenstown ... 

A Familiar Fi^re 
Fred and Tom ... 

Chapter V. CA Oalo Tfom the South-Eaat) i 

i h.iii s on Deck 

Peail ; 

" Kccpini: th;ir feet with diffiLulty** ... 
The Srnokinp-Kii.m) 

Chapter VI. In tntd Osean : 

Tlie Clergyman ... 

A Family Group ... ... ... 

Thv Smtia An ■:a 

The Professor took Irene Aft 

Chapter VII, (Celncldsnoo and Clairvoycnce) : 

JIis. /Adelaide- lu!i.i 

.Jack Complon and .Mrs. IrAvio... 
I'he Captain 

Chapter VIII. (The Rescue of the Castawaya) 

" Ml] Fill, tlie jioor girl is asleep" 

The Passengers clieered as they rowed away 

" Then yoti are not Dead ! " 

. r 



. 4 
























Sold hy i\ Drjper^. 
One Milllun ra<re Annually. 

D 10 a I F 66 


E: 86 

a 5/- 

KLAl.K, 1 . tXTRA. 
Appr* vrd bv the « hotr I ol tff world. 
If your Druper cannot nifply you wriiediipct to 49 Old Bailey, 

London, (ivinK size and tuclDSmg P.O.O..and thf? Corset will \\ 
onee be «int ycu. Madt m Icxr^ths, 11, i«, ard 1% itch. 


Chapter iX. (On tho Thn»hoM of tha Mow Woridt 

Irene and the Proleasor in tte Saloon. 

Kew Vork , • ,,,. 

*' R<-Niu 1,1 a*^d no more"... 

Chapter X. (The Re birth of Hap«>t 

The Fievated Kuilway ' ..._,•„ 

A comely Quaker lady frteted thetn ... , '" ..; . ." ... 
" len dollnr.i ! " s,- id the Haetm»h' ... ... '... 

She slipped and tell heavily ; 

Ci^aptar XL (Round New York) 1 

M4I11C of LiU-rtj- 

Brooklyn Bridge |^ ]." ' ',' 

MiMJison Square... ' . ... .-;,,' ... 

Pullman Cars ... ... " ... 

The Caj itol, Washington ... ,,. 

Chapter Xli. (The Quasn City) 1 

Ihv H.iihvay DejUJt .•.,, 

The Auditorium ... ... ... ... .^." 

Chamber of Commerce '.„ ._ 


Map of Chicago and Vicinity 

Radways from Chicago 

The Woman's Tcmj-le 

Chapter XIIL On tha Shoroe of the Inland 8oa> 1 

J'he ^)i ^g If,- oi the Show 

Ground Plan of the Fair 

Bird s- eye View of the Fair 

Ronnd the F.>ihibition in a Gondola 

At the Grant Monument 
Chapter XIV, (Rooe at Niagara and Chlcaso) 

iliphh-inds of the [tudaon ... 

Ni^i^ara ,,. 

Chapter XV. Firet Parlta:ti3nt 
Spsahinac Rat:e': 

Portraits of Speakers ... 

Chapter XVI, The White City of Palaces) 

Machinery Hall 

Manufactures and Liberal Arts ,. 

British Pavilion 

\\ Oman's Building 

The Librarian 

Ekctricity Building 

Chapter XVII. (Round the Fair with the Children) 

Chapter XVIII. From tho Slaughter House to the 
Altar I : 

Ul- al and Real 

Irene Slip]x-d and Fell 

Salt Lake City and Tempi* 

Grand Canon of Colorado 

Chapter XIX. From tho Other Side) 

Ciiaotar XX. (Ann H^thaway's Cottaxa, OhlcaBO* 

" My own Rose " 

The Cottage in the Fair 










• *-74 
■ 78 
. Sa 



of the Ensiish- 












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From the Old World to the New; 


A Christmas Story of the World's Fair, 1893. 


^ 1 ' 

- ;, , ,/ f '^■' 



g&itotiaC Offices : 



Mowbray House, Decemhr, 1892. 

HE World's Fair at Chicago u-ill be the great event of .893. All the world ar,d his wife will be 
going to the Exhibition. Fe«- questions will be more generally discussed this Christmas at 
family gatherings than the attraction of the Chicago_ trip . , , 

Therefore the Christmas Number of the Rmtw of Rmrwi this year is devoted, from 
first page to last jiage, to telling the British public about Chicago and its Exhibition, and 

'^'Tit^vearour Christmas Number, dealing with the shadowy under-world, achieved for "Real Ghosts" 

J .A .,„-,-«<: This vear we make an equally unprecedented departure from the con- 
an unprecedented suctess. \ "» /^^ ... , , > 1 • 1 

ventionaliues of journalistiG Christ m.rsery, but we deal, not wth the truth about the d,m, obscure world 
of spirit, but «-ith the latest emlMdimem of the genius, the enterprise and the labour of Man in the, 
material' realms. Vet there is a living hnk between the two. 

Chicago £xhil)ition, Chicago itself— which is greater than the Exhibition, and the great Republic 
which welcomes all nations to the great festival of nations-these are but the latest temporary materiali- 
sation and realistic development of the great idea which jMssessed Columbus when, four hundred years ago, 
he steered his tiny caravel across the Unknown Sea and re-discovered the New \\-orld. In our last 
Christmas Number we collected some of the shadowy fragment.s of evidence as to the reality and accessibility 
of the Invisible World, which, however incomplete and unsatusfactory, were more numerous and more 
conclusive than the disjointed rumours .ind attract reasonings which led the Genoese navigator to take 
that voyage, the fourth centenary of which is being celebrated at Chicago. Last year we indicated the 
New World that man has still to explore. This year we record the latest results of the supreme triumph 
wrested by the faith and courage of a solitary adventurer from the great mystery which had been guarded 
for ages by the ignorance, the li nudity and the superstition of mankind. 

In telling the story of the voy;ige of a party of English tourists from Liverpool to Chicago, the writer 
has endeavoured to combine two somewhat incongruous ulements — the love story of the Christmas 
annual and the information of a guide-book. Side by side with these, in the main features of " From 
the Old ^Vorld to the New," are incorporated two other elements, vi?., a more or less dramatic representation 
of conclusions arrived at after twelve months' ■ experimental study of psychical phenomena ; and an 
exposition of the immense political possibilities that are latent in thjs World's Fair. To deal in a 
Christmas number with such practical questions as the price of tickets and the choice of hotels, and 
at the same time to discuss the existence of the soul after death and the prospective assumption by 
America of the leadership of the English-speaking race, without sacrificing the human interest of a simple 
story of true love, is an undertaking which might well daunt the most practised story-teller. It was 
necessar)', therefore, to entrust the task to one who had the audacity of the novice who always believes 
that he can do impossibilities in his first story. 

Speaking critically, as editor, of the result of this bold attempt, I may at least hazard the remark 
that this Christmas story deserves the compliment paid by a Scotchman to the first number of the 
Review of Revieu<s ; "It is like a haggis — there's a good deal of confused feeding in it." I would 
add one other remark, viz., that I have not allowed the writer, when treating of psychometry, clairvoyancy, 
telepathy, or automatic handwriting, to go one step beyond the limits, not merely of the possible, but 
of that which has actually been attained. This I have verified by experiments conducted under conditions 
precluding fraud or mistake. 

I wish my readers, alike in the Old World and the New, a merry Christmas and a bright New Year. 



H (TbriBttiias Stori^ of tbc Morl^'5 Jfair. 


©N Christmas Eve. 1892, in the hbrary of Orcharderoft, 
some friends were discussing in the flickering 
firelight their plans fnr the New Year It was after 
dinner. The Yule lof« was burning brightly, the 
red glow of the cheery hearth streamed through 
the windows across the snow, making the comfortable 
country house a symbol of genial warmth and human 
kindliness in the midst of the wintry wilderness. 

The company in tl:e 
library was not too large 
for the talk that goes 
round and unites, which 
is very distinct from the 
conversation that breaks 
up a large party into 
groups. It was a middle- 
aged party, the youngest 
ol whom liad setn her 
thirty Christinases, while 
the oldest was nearer hfty 
than forty. Hut excepting 
that they did not propose 
to play Blind Man's BulT, 
or Puss-in - the - comer, 
there was nti trace of age 
in the circle. " Young 
people,' the Princess of 
Caprera used to s;iy, 
"were like babies, inter- 
esting to see, but some- 
what wearisome at a 
prolonged M -d-//U." So, 
when she lit up Orcharderoft w ith the brilliance of her 
presence, " no one under thirty ' was the rule, only relaxed 
for some youthful hero whose exploits had attracted the 
attention of the great world. 

" For my part," said Sir Wilfrid Bruce, under whose 
roof the company had met to spend Christmas, " nothing 
in the Old World or the New is interesting enough to 
tempt me away from Westminster, the Coliseum of the 
British Empire. With the gladiatorial games about to 
begin, under the leadership of the noblest Roman of them 
all, positively for the last time, it would be a great tempta- 
tiOD indeed that lured me from within driving range ol the 
Clock Tower." 

" You English," said Princess, " take your pleasures 
80 tragically. What is it that attracts you in the Parlia- 
mentary arena, but the great game which is played against 
an old man's life ? It is the death's head on the dice that 
ii the winning throw." 

" You must admit," interposed Walter Wynne, a young 
doctor wlto had distinguished himself by the intrepidity 
and skill with which he had devoted himself to the service 
of cholera-stricken Hamburg, "that there is something 
heroic in the spectacle of Mr. Gladstone, indomitable to 

oRcirARDCRorr : chpistmas eve. 

the last, confronting the serried ranks of his opponents 
with such a heterogeneous crowd at his heels." 

"Heroic, yes," remarked Mm. Nightingale, an American 
lady, poet and professor in the University of Chicago, 
with beautiful eyes, full of latent fire, and a brow on 
\viiich sorrow and bereavement had left their traces, 
" heroic for him, but not very heroic on the part of those 
who are rallying for the last attack. It reminds me of 
that Scottish martyr-maiden, bound to a stake in the Sol- 
way, and left to be 
drowned by the rising 
tide. But her persecutorti 
refrained from stoning 
their victim as a pre- 
liminary entertainment." 

" Poor sport," said the 
Ptinccss, " but Sir Wilfrid 
must ever be in at the 
death, whether it is that 
of a fox or of an adminis- 

" We are a long way off 
tbat yet." said Sir Wilfrid; 
"and the sport is in the 
run, not in the kill. I 
would back Gladstone's 
physique against the 
Giaditone Government'" 
" That may be," said 
the Princess, " and we all 
hofie it will be so— we, 
at least, who stand out- 
side your party battles,. 
and only see the stately cedar that overtops all the trees 
of the forest. Besides, there is not an old man— or 
an old woman either — iu Europe but would feel as if the 
undertaker were nearer the door when the papers announce 
that Mr. Gladstone is no more. A few years ago the world 
was ruled by the greybeards. The reign of the old is 
passing vtith the century — the reign of the joung has 

A momentary silence settled over the little group. Then, 
suddenly, from without was heard the confused murmur 
of many voices, the shuffling of many feet in the snow, out 
of which presently emerged clear and strong some rustic 
voices singing: — 

" Ring out the old, ring in the new, 
Ring, happy bells, across the snow, 
The ycji 19 going, let him go. 
Ring out the false, ring in the true. 

Ring out a slowly dying cause. 
And ancient fottns ol parly strife; 
King in the nobler modes of lilie. 

With sweeter manners, purer laws," 

When th- waits tramped off on their round, Lady Win!- 

From the Old World to the New. 

(red broke liie silenrc " I wish Ihcy had not cnme, or 
at Icaa. that thc.v had sung some thh^g tlse. tt soQitded 
like a voice from I lie gMvc.'' 

-A voice frotn the grave that has closed over a"ftnero 
the famous men of old,' said the Piinccss. -They fall 
fast, these goodly cedars. Our own Renan aceoinpatued 
vou'r Tcnuyson into the Land uS Shadows. ' _^ 

'■ And our Whitlier did not linger long after W hitman, 
said Mrs. Nightingale, '■ And with us, as with you, it is 
a race of pigmies ^v^uch succeeds the giar.ts. 

" I protest,' said the doctor. - really. J protest. If you 
must have old men. Bismarck still fulminates m Germatiy. 
and the old Pope forges his anathemas in Rome. In the 
British Empire, the old Lady on the tl rone, and the old 
gentleman who is her Piime Minister will outlive many 
ot their younger contemporaries. But, Princess, if the 
shadow of the death's head torbids your participation in 
English politics, where arc yon eoing to spend next year . 


" As usual, in Paris, when the Parisians are in their 
capital ; the rest of the year yachting among (he Isles of 
Greece, where you combine the traditions of the heroic past 
with the primitive barbarism of the present day." 

" Could we not induce you to come to Chicago ? "' said 
Mrs. Nightingale. 

The Princess looked up in mild ama^(ment. Sir Willrid 
laughed. '• Why not to Pekin at once ? " he asked. 

■ "There is nothing doing at P<kin," said Mrs. Nightin- 
gale, sedately. "Why .should you go to Pekin 'f But at 
Chicago we have the World s Fair, the grr ate&t Exhibition 
that the world has ever seen ! " 

"No COD side rati oil in the world would ever induce me 
lo go to America, that land of barbariat.s who have got the 
electric light, and therefore imagine they are civilized," 
said the Princtsi " They are a clever people, ingenious 
mechanics, no doubt, witli a remarkable talent for | 'reduc- 
ing tinned meat and potted lobster. But I would as soon 
go to a <andle-maktr's as lo Chicago. " 

"I entirely agree with you." said SirWilfiid. "The 
Americans are the Chinese of the English -speaking race. 
The irish are our French, the Scotch our Cennans. the 

Welsh our Portuguese, but the Americans are our Chinese. 
That is why 1 said 1 would as soon go to Pckiu as to 

" i don't see the analogy. s:iid Mrs. Night ingalc, some- 
what warmly. 

" The analogy is so close," said Sir Wilfrid, "that you 
can hardly miss it. The Chinese, like the Americans, are 
an immense people, immense in numbers, immi-nse in 
territory, immense in resources, but still more immense in 
their own conceit. Americans have not yet made the 
Chinese discover)' that alt non-Ameiicans are barbarians 
and foreign devil -i. But they are on the road. Before 
long they will trj' to exclude foreigners as the Chinese 
forbade Europeans to set foot in the Middle Kingdom. 
Their tariff is Chinese ; McKinlcy might liave been a m,iii- 
darin with a pig-tail. They are not a militar>' people, 
neither are the Chinese, although both can fight on occa- 
sion, and both are beginning to have a foreign policy and 
a navy. They are as a people industrious, ingenious, 
pacific ; but their civilization like their mind is vulgarly 
materialist, and their mediocrity is monotonously unilorm. 
They speak English after a fashion, but as Ihey say notl ing 
worth listening to, they might as w»ll speak Choctaw." 

Mrs. Nigbtii^gale bit her lip, not trusting herself to 

Lady Winifred, seeing the storm rising, interposed, 

"Really. Wilfrid, you arc going too far. 1 don't know 
any pleaianter company than some of our Amtrican 
frienos, and if the Cliincse arc like 1 should be very 
glad to be a Chinese." 

" And as for the World's Fai'.*' said Dr. Wynne, " I 
understand it is a dream of phantasy suddenly mateiial- 
ised, not in marble, but in stuccj or staff, and that the 
White City by the sea is a city of palaces the like of which the New World nor the f)ld has ytt gaied upon." 

" But," said Sir Wilfrid, " it there is one thing more 
detestable than anolher it is a great ixhibitiim. Crowds 
are not lovely even in Europe. Wiiat they m^iy l)e in 
America ] Jeclinc even to imagine. Heat, dust. mrisi|uitoes, 
general iJ:,^omfort, high prices, and badsmel's these are 
always on show at a world s fair. I would prefer to bury 
myself in some Italian valley with no other ctjmjiany than 
my books and my dogs, rather than svvi.]ter in the metro- 
pohs of hogs looking at the greatest di)--goods' store that 
ever disgui.Hd itseli as an exhibition " 

"There I differ from you,' said tl.e Princess. " If you 
had gone to the Paris Exhibilion, you must have felt your* 
self rebuked at every , turn. It is possible to have an 
exhibition which is an embodied poem. But that is only 
possible in Paris. At Chicago — why you might as well 
try it in Berlin, >vhich is only a little more German than 
Chicago ! " 

"German or Irish," broke in Mrs. Nightingale, "the 
World's Fair is American, dislinctively American, and if 
you are good enough to visit it you will know more about 
America than you seem to at present Why, you could 
stow away everything in your Paris Exhibition— the Eiffel 
Tower excepted— in a corner ol Jackson Park." 

" Bigger, I admit," said tlie Princess. "Better, I deny. 
It is the characteristic delusion of the American mind that 
mere bulk itself is an advantage. In reality it is the 
reverse. The art of civilisation is to reduce things to 
manageable compass. The savage hurled a huge crag 
down the hill upon his foe ; the civilised man shoots him 
two miles off with a bullet as slender as a lead pencil. 
A diamond is worth more than a truck-load of coke. The 
grca'.ness of a country consisis not in the number o( 
miles that intervene between its cities, it rather ia to 
be found in the skill and lesource with which the engineer 
and the mechanic have obliterated that yawning space." 


Mrs. Nigbtingale fnr reply, apencd a porlfolio lying by 
her side, and displayed to ilie company illuslraliong of 
the buildings of the World's Fair. As tliey passed from 
hand to hand, the Princess pointed triumphantly to the 
dome of the Administration Building. 

" There," said she, '■ look at that 1 There you have the 
erownkss summit of American im'ginalion ! It is an 
imitation of the great dome at Farii, but tt.ey sp jil wl>at 
they purloin. V\ here is the radiant figure which crowned 
the Paris dome ? Ju its place there is onlj a flagstaff. The 
great dome l:as no more crown tlian an inverted bell-glass. 
But," she added, with a pitying smile, '■ it would be tiio 
much to expect from Ciiieago even the homage of faithful 

Mrs. Nightingale, in her own phrase, "got just a liltle 
mad." She was of a beautiful disposition a; id chastened 
temper, but the Princess in her mahcious moods was more 
than a trifle trying even to a saint. 

" Perhaps the Princess of Cairera," she said, speaking 
with some effort — " peihaps the Princess of Caprera would 
change htr mind if snc saw the World's Fair with her 
own eyes instead of trusting only to these poor photo- 
graphs. Those who have seen both Paris and Chicago 
are much less disposed to conclude that the Old World 
has beaten the New. As for your gilJed figure s'atiding 
on one leg on the top of ynur Paris dome, I do not fancy 
that is either natural or b'.-'aulifu'. It m.\y be your Old 
World likes to scs the unnatural creature parched up 
there, but we like it difTL-rent, ' said -Mrs. Xightingale. 
" Our buildings are better and bitjger and more imposing 
than any you had to show in Paris." 

"Bigger," said Sir Willrid ; "bigger, no doubt, but 
better- qiir Pi- ■-'" 

" Why, Sir Wilfrid, sflreiy yon lave not forgotten what 
a fuss the Paiis ans made about the si/c of iheir show," 
replied Mrs. Nightingale, "A'"ter the Eiffel Tower, which 
was the t^illest shaft of iron ever thrust up into the sky, 
they were proudest of the P.i'ace of Machines, atid 
why ? Solely because it was the biggest scriion of Space 
ever roofed in by man. But Wf 1 ave beaten them hollow. 
We couid luck the Paris Irjildinp inside our big palace, and 
still have ample room to spare. So far as dimerstona go, we 
have beaten Paris IkjIIou-, And in beauty also. We have 
the advantage of site. Our Wliite City of Palaces stands 
like modern Venice on the shorts of the Adriatic of the 
West. Nature has done for us ivhat .\rl could never do for 
your Paris show, which was twisted in and out ol your 
Paris streets, and straddled arross your petty Seine." 

"Mrs. Nightingale is rijjht there,' said Dr. W^ynne. 
" There is more poetry in the ocean than in anylliing under 
the staiht sky. The iJca of \'enice in Illinois fascinates 
me stranj;ely. Between the sea— for the horizon on Lake 
Michigan is as the horizon on the ocean — and the prairie, on 
the eUj^e of the newest miilionaire city in the world, to 
heap up the trophies of the civilisation that has subdued 
the Continent is a grand idea if worthily csrr ied out " 

" But it IS worthily carried out," intetrupted Mri. Night- 
ingale. " Come and see for yourselves. We challenge 
comparison. Chicago cannot improvise a Pompeii, or a 
Colisium. She is nowhere at artiq:iities. But give her 
a thing to be done svhich dollars and cents can do, and 
you may back Chicago against the world. Why, our 
American cities, who were as jsalous as they could be of 
Chicago, are all wheeling into line behind the banner- 
bearing city, and owning up that she has erected Kxhibition 
Buildings that the New World need not blush to show to 
the Old." 

" Rather a violent transition, from pork-biitcliering to 
high art," said Sir Wilfred. " Some ofllhese buildings are 
worth looking at. All Exhibition buildings are more or 

Icfs sheds. But these are glorified sheds, it must be 
admitted And not even .American advertisements can 
vulgarise the sea -even an inland sea. But if 1 went to 
Chicago 1 should go not to see the Fair so much as Chicago 
itself, ' 

'■ And you would be right," siid Mrs. Nightingale ; 
" Chicago i;self is the greitest e.>:ljibilio;i at the World's 
Fair. She is one of the wonders of the world. She is 
the supreme civic monu- 
ment t f American enter- 
prise. She is the embodi- 
ment of go-a'iead. Other 
cities pride them;cl.(s %^' 

upon ilieir grey antiquity. fr^ ^ 

Chicago is the city whos-r ^ . • 

glory is her youth. 
She is her own 
ancestor When you 
were bom si'.e was 
little more than a 
country town. To- 
day she has n 
million and a ha'.:' 
inhabitants, and 
is adding to them 
at the rate of 
4o,o:>oa year." 

"No doubt," 
said the Prin- 
cess, tartly, 
for she vvas 
not accus- 
tomed to the 
second place. " No 
doubt 'tis tl e Mam- 
moth Mushroom of 
the Modern Wrrld. 
Hut ,1 city without 
a history is a city 
without romance." 

" History," niter- 
posed Dr. Wvime, 
" is of two kinds — 

&It*S. MullTIKCALE, Ol- cmcACia 

history made and history in the making. Chicago has 
plenty of the latter sort, it is in the centre of the roaring 
loom of time, and if it had existed a thousand years since 
we should all have found romance enmtgh in traditions of 
its grovving time to attract us to the study of that mar\-ellous 
outburst of human energy," 

" New history, like new wine, is not for me," said the 
Princess, with asperity. " It is neither mellow nor clear. 
When the lees have settled and the rawness has gone it 
will be time enough to think of it. There is no repose in 
Chicago. It is all a vulgar, headlong stampede, as ci 

From the Old World to thi- New, 




bungry buffalMS in the mad rush for wealth. Rush, push, 
grab, gamble, drive, one mad struggle lor the almighty 
dollar. No, lliank you, I prefer my island rock, with its 
calm simplicity sad evenoess of life." 


"As for us," said Mrs. Mghlingale, rising-for iHv^S 
near midnight— "we prefer the New to the Old We live 
in the light of the coming day. Ours is the might and the 
energy and the restless fever of 3011th, We do something 
more in Chicago than hunt the dollar We are building 
up a city out of the most varied conRlomerate of humanity 
t^iat ever was supplied to city builder since the days of 
Cadmus. There are more Gcimans in Chicago than 
Americans. But Chicago is an Americin city. Poles, 
Magyars, Uobemians, Iri-ih, Swedes, Russians, Jews— out 
of this str.inge amalgam we have reared the dneen CHy 
c I the West, and in another generation the whole popula- 
tion Will be American. All these polyglot myriads, alw ad v 
impregnated with the feverish energy of Chicago will be 
hahituated to the atmosphere of our political institutions. 
Their children will speak the tongue that Shakespeare 
spoke, and grow up uit'; the conviction tliat the world re- 
volcesonits ax,s every tiventy.four hours subject to the 
Constmition of the United States. You are inte^sled in 
generaii who conduct compaigns agaiiist savages. Our cam- 

^ZniTJ^ '"'v ' '"'^ i'" "'"''"^* "* ■"<>■■* '«t'"g than 
ho=e ot C*sar. You areinterested in scientific discoveries 
Here m this great crucible we are experimenting in tTe 
m. U v7 ?^ """J^'-i'y- We are transmuting the ba^r 
metals. Wc have discovered the phiiosopher'l stone in 

Te^r" 'f°°' ^^'' -"yd^^^ I'rince's. Imu t ai^lo" 
gize for my vehemence, and then Mr-; Niotm^nLi. j 
pa-ted wirh Lady Winifred to reri ^'^^'""^''^ ^'^ 

"The Amcncans are all touchy, "said Dr Wvnne ■• <;=„ 
a wo.d^ against their city or thei^ state, and i'sUn^gs tlS ■ 

" AU parvenus are the same." a^d the Priucess. - The 

noitveattx riches always stand oti their dignity, and the 1 
they have the more tliey assert it. But I fear we w*" 
really too hard upon licr. Come, it is time we all foUov^ 

It was midnight, and as the little j[roup stood atoun<1 
the statue of Voltaire tliey could hear the peal of Ch 
mas bells float down from the village spire. The 6tM 
flames of the fvrelight flung, as it were, a (lickerinff smil!. 
upon the satyr-like features of the sarcastic philosoohM 
as he reposed upon the pedestal formed of the comolet^ 
edition of his wcrks which Sir Wilfrid had collected 

Just as they were leaving the room Dr. Wynne started 
slightly as his eye fell on a photograph which Mr, 
Nightingale had left lying on the couch. It was a snap-shot 
of a pair of lovers on the deck of an Atlantic steamer H« 
stooped down, examined it closely, sighed, and turned awav 

"What is the matter doitor?" said his host 

"Nothing," he replied. " I only thought I recognised oni. 
of the figures in that picture. But it was a nr stake ■ he 

said, somewhat bitterly, ■' 1 shall never »ee~th"at* face again"" 
I " said Sir Wilfrid ; " it will never do to 

" Come,<heer up 
begin Christmas sadly. Here is your room. Good-nichL- 

It was a pleasant raom, witu a great bay window 
for the western sun, and an extended outlook over the 
garden and the grounds. One side of the room was 
devoted to books. A great cheval glass swung near the 
dressing-table. Dr. Wynne stood before it (or a moment 


Prolog L'E. 

and tlien passing to the western H-indow opened it, and 
looked out. The cold air beat into the comfortably 
warmed room, bringing with it a great Hood of melody 
from the Christmas bells. Tlie night was dark, save lor 
(he glimmering whiteness of the snow. The bells ceased 
for a moment. In the silence he heard the merry greet- 
ing of some strayed reveller, and then all was still- Then 
the bells began again, not with the jubilant strain of the 
Hymns of the Nativity, but a plaintive, simple melody, in 
striking contrast to the joyous peal with which the ringers 
had hailed the Christmas morn. 

" Her favourite hymn! ' he mu'tered. "How strange 1 
1 have not heard it all these years."' 

And, regardless of the icy cold, he leaned out of the 
window, eagerly drinking in every note of the music, as if 
perchance amid the music he could catch some echo of a 
vanished love. As one after another the solemn nctcs 
floated down the air he seemed to hear henvoice singing 
as in old time 

"Lctd, kindly Siglit, amiti the encircling gloom 

Lead thou me on ! 
Tl e night is dark, and I am for from home. 

Lead thou me on \ 
Keep thou my feet ; I do not isk to see 
The distant scene— one step enough for me." 

At last the bells ceased, and with a sigh he closed the win- 
dow and Silt down before the lire. The resemblance in thi- 
photograph and then the melody of the hymn had revived 
memories that had not for years been so strangely stirred. 

He pullei out a pocket-book which he cariied in his 
left hand hieast, and, opening it, took out a small envelope, 
carefully scaled. It bore the dale "September iStb, in 
memory of 1 886." 

" Six years since," he said, as he read it. " Six years, 
and diiriuR alt that time it has never left me. 1 !i,ive nev( r 
broken the seal all these years, bat now I must see it just 
once again." 

And ihcn, reverently, as if he were raising the Ud of his 
mother's coffin, the doctor broke the seal, and took out the 
contents of tiic envelope, which were carefully fulded in 
lissue paper. His hand trembled as he unfolded the paper, 
but at last the wrappii.g was removed, and th;re lay 
revealed a little white rosebud tied together witli a tiny 
thistle by a lock of brown hair. It was a dry and withered 
little rose iioiv, with a faint fltish of gold and pink still 
visible on its shrunken leaves. 

" It is just as she 
^avc it to me," he 
murmured, and, 
bending reverently, 
kissed the little rose. 
Then, folding it up 
again in the tissue 
paper, he restored 
it to the envelope 
and replaced the 
book in his pocket. 

In an absent- 
Tnindcd fashion, he 
set about undress- 
ing and began walk- 
ing to and fro. Then 
he stopped. 

" Oh, Rose, I^osc," 
lie cried," where 
have you been all 
these long and lonely 
years? How gladly 
would I go to 
Chicago, or any 

where in the whole wcrld, if I might but have the chance 
of meeting you once again before 1 grow too old and grey." 
As he spoke he stood before the glajs, and he looked ti. 
see if the grey was appearing in hi- hair. And as he did 
so a strange thing happened. Whether it was some halluci- 
nation, whether it was a fact, or whether it wasdite solely to 
the vivid revival of the memories of the p.nst, and that hii 





eyes were heavy with unshed tears, cannot be ans^vered 
here, but as he looked at the glass he saw it gradually 
cloud over with a milk-like mist. He was not near enough 
for.his breath to dim the surface of the mirror. Then he 
noticed, as he watched with startled curiosity the gather- 
ing misl on the glass ; that to his intense amazement, in 
the centre of the mirror the mist began to clear away, and 
there, plainly visible before his astonished eyes, he saw the 
features he had recalled so often of her whom he had loved 
and lost. There was no mistake about it : there were her 
eyes, lovelit and lustrous, gazing at him from the heart of 
the mist-cloud, as from an infinite diitaticc, 

" Rose ! " he cried, " Rose ! " not daring to say more. Even 
as he spake the image dissolved, .is the reflection on a 
lake disappears when the water is stirred ; the mist came 
over the dark spot which seemed to have opened up a vista 
into infinity, and then it too cleared away, and tl e doctor 
stood gazing at the pnlished surface of the great mirror, in 
which he saw nothing but the reflection of his own face. 

" It was Rose, ■ he said. " Oh, why did she go when I 
called her by name ? " 

And then wearily, and in a kind of dull stupor, he went 
to his bedside, gazed for a moment on Bartolozzi's beauti- 
ful engraving of Venus refusing Love to Desire, and in a 
few moments was in a heavy sleep, dreaming that he was 
on the Atlantic on board a steamer, seeking Rose. In 
some strange and mysterious way. Rose and Chicago 
and the Atlantic steamer were ail mixed up together -with 
Bartolozzi's picture of the beautiful Venus and the Winged 
Love. But in his dreams he always seemed to find her, and 
she was his Rose, and claimed from him the token of her 
trust, the liltle white rose with the lock ofhair.^All night 
long he tossed about in troublous slumber, and when the 
morning came the doctor got up, knowing that, whatever 
happened, he must go to Chicago in the ensuing year. 




Chapter L— Rose. 

E%'ER since that Christmas Eve at Orchardcroft, Dr. 
Wynne had cherished the determination to go to Chicago, 
He said nothing about it to any one, not even to himsf--lf. but 
ever since he had seen her face in the mirror at Orchard- 
croft he had been full of a new hopf. It was ntit so much 
a new tiope as a revival of an old hope— a hope which for 
two years had buoyed up his heart amid adversity and 
disappointment, but which, for the last four years, had 
grown so faint as almost to disappear. Nothing could be 
more absurd tlian the fancy, suggested by the photograph 
and the face in the mirror, that he might see his long-lost 
Rose at Chicago, or on the way there. U was in vain that 
hereasoned against it, arguingto himself how utterly insane 
it was to imagine that he should meet a girl whom he had 
iiot seen for six years in the mj'riad multitude which was 
swarming to the World's Fair. He did not know whether 
she was alive or dead. He had no more reason to think 
she was in Chicago than in any other place on (he world's 
surface. And then, if he did discover her, what chance 
was there that she had been faithful to him all these long 
years ? To all of which excellently sound objf tti- ns the 
doctor could make no answer beyond re marling — 

"Anyhow, I will go to Chicago. The odds maybe a 
million to one against my finding her, but until I give my- 
self the odd ciiance I can never rest, Besidt's, it is a good 
thing to go to Chicago even if Rose is not there." 

.Ml the same, no one knew better than himself that not 
for a dozen World s Fairs xvould he have ri fused the 
tempting offer of Medical Superintendent in a great Indiait 
hospital which was pressed upon him hy lliose who had 
know-n of his heroism and fkill at Hamburg. It was the 
kind of post of which he had dre;imtd fruin his boyhood; 
but now its acceptai;ee conflicted witli the Other t'reain— 
the dream of his early manhood. He a 'sight of 
fefru^le. All his friends were unanimous in urging him to 
Accept the post, which assured liis career. Fir several 
hours he hefitalcd. Reason,, and the 
pressure of iuithority triumphed. I le sat down and wrote 
a letter, formally aceepting the appointment, hut when he 
opened his pocket-bonk for tlie stamp, he savtho envelope 
with the little white rose. In a monienl the old spell re- 
asserted its power: he flung the letter he had writttn into 
the fire, scribbled a hurried note fnrmally declining the ap- 
pointment, and then rushed out into the night to w.ilk for 
miles and miles under the cold, clear stars until the mcrn- 
ing light gleamed in the East, and he came home haggard 
and worn, but resolute to carry out his purpose. 
■ " It is a kind of post-hypnotic suggestion, 1 suppose;? 
lie said lo himself, lu{;uhrious!y one day. when the 
madness of his conduct presented itself to him more 
forcibly than ever. " Sometimes an idea gets fixed in 
the mind, and you only waste your lime hy irjing to dis- 
lodge it. ' 

As the spring came on the longing to start fcr Chicago 
increased. He remembered as each spring (lower came 
into bloom how he had watched for ihe early blossoms lo 
gather a posy for his love. When the apple trees 
were white with blossom, he remembered how he had 
first seen. her in the orchard behind Ann Hathavvays 
Cottage, had wondered at her grace and, and had 
from that hour never had hut one ideal of female loveli- 
ness. When the May began to bloom, and the hedgerows 
were fragrant with the hawthorn, it recalled the long walks 
they used to liave thrcugh the daisy starred meadows by 
the sleepy Avon 'vhile the larks sang oveihead and the 
murmurous hum of the bees was loud in the limes. But 
when at last the roes budded, and. the buds su tiled into 
opening floviers, he cotdd cor.tEin hiinictf no longer. The 

day oa which he saw the first white rose he p:.ekfd his 
portmanteau, and, next monu'ng, found him at Huston 
en route for Liverpool. He ivould break the journey at 
Chester, where he had friends. But on Saturday he 
would sail for New York. 

He was alone in the railway carriage, and when Willes- 
dcn Junction was passed, he abandoned himself, without 
let or hindrance, to the memories which came up unbidden 
Of the days that seemed long ago, but which in reality 
were but six years distant. Between now and then, 
what atU-entures, what trials, what baffled hopes ! There 
seemed an abyss in which all the joy of life was buried for 
ever. Everything he saw reminded him of the love of a 
vanished past. Seldom had the o!iJ world seemed more 


lovely than on that June morning as the train swept through 
fields that were lik : gardens for verdure, flecked with 
sleek cattle, while here and there a yoting foal frolicked at 
the hceU of its dam. The trees were in the fresh green 
glory of early summer. Everywhere there was gladneis 
and brightness and joy. But the doctor- sat moody and 
distraught, chckving the bitter cud of the memory of 
departed joy. 

lie retraced, in imagination, every step of the primrose 
)iflth of dalliance which had so rude and alirupt an ending. 
Eight years before he was a youfi; doctor, jist settled in 
the neighbourhood of Warwick, He was of fairly good 
fjmily, his parents had been, if not exattly county people, 
then, on gDod terms with county people, well to do, and 
(ult of ambition for their talented son. He had gone through 
his studies with distinction, had taken his degree with 
honours, and had commenced his first practice as 


From the Old World to the New, 

tentns lot one of the most flourishing doctors in the coun- 
try. Everything seemed promising when on one fine day in 
spring, in the course of a professional visit to Stratford, he 
called at Ann Hathaway s Cottage, and saw the lissom 
figure of Rose Thorne under the blossom-covered branches 
of the apple trees. He was dazzled by her beauty. Not 
without cause. She was tall, graceful, with a wealth of 
long brown hair hanging in profusion over her shoulders. 
They had been playing Queen of the May in the meadow, 
and she still wore the garland the children had placed on 
her head. The colour rose to her cheeks as she saw the 

the orchard But, with an effort of will, he dismissed th 
subject, and immersed himself in his pills and potions InA 
his professional avocations, " 

But as !ll-iuck would have it, one time when riding 
home fwm Stratford, he was hastily summoned bv a 
poUceman to help a boy who had fallen from a tree and if 
was feared had broken his back. Following tlie eon 
stable, Wynne noticed with quickened interest thai he wir 
being carried to the cottage in the orchard behind Ann 
Hathaway's Cottage. As he crossed the threshold he saw 
with delight that he was in the presence of the startled 

cottage half hidde"in?he'o:S:aS '""'' "^^ '^ '"'» ^ 

^rnS"H?Z'rndi?;rin'X'n'S'rr'^ ^.'-' '™d- 
«-as the first flush of sp ™ i^: ^h!^ - '''^ ^ ^"''Se. It 

the fragrance andlhe St.?lf,'t ' "'^^ '^"''^n' «''h 
"ow, suddenand b^l^ir r^^^*'"^^'P'^^'^3»"mry. And 

flashed uSHmSEu'/ ="'^'^<1 fawn,the!?e had 

linens. '^ith..,^y^''^:z:LT'i •»' yr*''"' '°™- 
— -ade.y c:::^^^^^^,^:^^^ 

(From Ih. "//„„„, a„rf H«UHI, oj »,«*«/,„„.■') 

^hZtl I ^f,P''=. "T"'"'*^^' ^'"^ "'«s '«> ""ch distressed 
atout her brothers fate to cotice anything beyond the fact 

Si^hU,r "'' ^T^°\' ^"** **'^' her brother's life or death 
wisaiut* "''^"k"' /"=■''■ " ^'^'^ "-^y- doctor, please,' 
which h,n '^r ''"' "'f ^ "'^^ ^ •^""'t. agony in her eyes 
had fa L! ^"'^*"- "'^ ^""""^ "1^ l>°>'- a "ad of fourteen, 
hoL ""^ ^ "*^ °" *'■' '•*^«d, and had been carried 

^TrJ7 TT\ ^ '"O'lem's examination, however, 
shmnea . !f If ^^ the doctor that he «as only t^mporarii; 
stunned and that so far a, he could see, there was no fear 
hv^hf 1 "•, '^'=.^"^"'"8 to the outer room, followed 


" Don't distress yourself; there is no daiiger. In an 
hour or two he will be all right." ' 

Tor a moment the glad light shone in the girl's eyes, 
and then the revulsion of fecling.the recoil as it were from 
the very presence of death, was too iniich lor her. The 
room swam round, everjthiiig became indistinct, and be- 
fore the doctor knew where he was, he had caught the 
swooning pirl in his arms, and was ciitryinR her lo the 
window. Slie was deadly pale, the Trmg dark-fi inged eye- 
lids were closed, she lay motionless and beautiful as the 
drovnied Ophelia. The policeman huiried out for some 
water, .nnd the doctor was alone with the girl. Uow his 
heart beat ! Presently there was a faint (luttering as of a 
trembling bird, the girl moved slightly, and opened her 

" Where am I ? " she said, faintly, and then recognis- 
ing who was supporting her in his arms, she murmured, 
"Oh, doctor!" and lay quite still lor one brief 
moment. Then the constable came witli the water and 
Ibe cordial, and the doctor took his leave vvilh a promise 
to come again. 

He did come again, and many a time again, and that for 
long after the last semblance of illness in either patient 
. called his attendance. By degrees he found out all about 
the family. They were cottagers ; the father a stonemason 
by trade ; the mother a superior woman, whose love for 
reading had been transmittrd to the daughter. Her 
daughter Rose was but turned eighteen, but although a 
woman in stature and in mind, was a child in the f iinpUcity 
and innot:ence of her soul. All her knowledge of the 
. world was gained from books or the conversation of her 
mother and an occasional neighbour, whom she met on her 
' way to or from Shakespeare's Church. There were not 
many books in the stonemason's cottage beside the Bible 
and Shakespeare, and on these two Rose had been brought 
up. Perhaps it was the air of Stratford or the association 
of Ann Hathaway s Cottage, but, whatever it (vas, she 
lived in a Shakespearian world. 

or the great hurly burly outride, with its pomp and state, 
its sins and sorrows, she knew nothing. Her world was the 
realm which Shakespeare had peopled with the creation 
of his brain, Gladstone and Salisbury, Bismarck and the 
Tzar were to her words without meaning. But she loved 
the gentle Romeo as if she had known him from her 
youth up ; she mourned over hapless Imogen and counted 
Miranda and Rosalind as the most intimate friends of her 
girlhood. They were real to her, these shadowy phan- 
toms of the dramatist's fancy — much more real, almost 
visible and tangible as they seemed to her, than the states- 
men and sovereigns of whose existence she was unaware. 
From her youth up she had lived among the flowers 
and in the orchard, blithe as the thrush and as happy as 
the lark, cultured with the love of one book, and wonder- 
ing sometimes, as she moved in maiden meditation fancy 
free, when her Romeo woivld arrive. .She worked in the 
house at all times, helped sometimes in Ann Hathaway'a 
Cottage, milked the cow in the croft, and helped to make 
hay with the best of them, hut hving all the while her life 
apart, feeding her soul upon the magic page. It was 
this ideal, hidden life, into which as with one great plunge 
Dr, Wynne had suddenly burst. To say that he loved her 
is unnecessary He was young, romantic, and alone. She 
was beautiful as a poefs dream, living in a fairyland of 
love and romance, with no one to share that life, or even 
to understand that she had that life, but he who had so 
unexpectedly come into her e,vistenee. 

The white roses were just beginning to flower when he 
told her of Iiis love. They had been having a long walk 
by the- Avon talking of love and Shakespeare's lovers, 
when the sun begsn to sink behind the clouds on the 

western horizon. She said but little in reply to his 
declaration. She had loved htm from the first time she 
had spoken to him, and she tuld him so It was plea- 
sant to hear him say he loved her, for now she might tell 
him how she loved him. When they parted at the cot- 
tage-door in the twilight, he plucked the first white rose 
in the garden and said — 

" Keep that in memorj' of me until our wedding day," 

She hid it in her bosom and went indoors, while he, 
walking as if in Paradise, hurried home. 

For a time all went well. Then gossip with its hun- 
dred tongues began to talk about the doctor and the 
stonemason's daughter. Some envied the girl her good 
luck ; others foresaw her certain destruction ; but of all 
Iheir surmisings the young lovers thought nothing. They 
were in the rapture of first love. But alter a time his 
friends heard of it, and began to hint that it was unwise 
to entangle himself in an affair with a village girl. As 
for his marrying her, it was not even lo be dreamed of. 
He listened to them as though he heard them not, and 
they indulged to his heart's content in the interchange ot 
affection natural to two full hearts. Then his brother-in-law 
went to the little cottage, and told Rose that she was ruining 
her lover's life, disgracing him before his friends, and that 
it was the height of presumption in her, a mere cottager's 
daughter, to dare to love one so much her superior. Poor 
Rose turned very white, quiiered a little, and then, without 
a word went into her room and shut herself up for a long 

When she came out there was a hard gleam in her eye 
and a rigidity about her mouth no one had ever seen 
before. The next day she had disappeared. The even- 
ing post brought Dr. Wynne a little note, and in the note 
was written : — 

" 1 retuni you the little white rose. It has never left 
my bosom night or day since you gave it me. Sotne day 
when I am in a position to be loved by you without in- 
juring you by my love I may claim it again. 
"Till then, farewell— 

" Rose,' 

The rose was tied up with a thistle by a lock of her 
brown hair and svith the rose there was a page torn from 
a diary. The doctor rode over at once as one distracted 
to the cottage. Rose had gone that morning. Bit 
where ? "To London,'' was all that she had said. " She 
had seemed queer like," said her brother, " She had 
never been asleep all night, and had gone off with her 
box to the station." That was all he could learn. But, 
incidentally, the boy mentioned that she had had a visit 
from his brother-in-law the previous day. It gave him the 
clue to her otherwise mysterious letter. 

He had to hurry back to the bedside of a country gen- 
tleman who was struggling painfully back to life from the 
borders of the grave, but what a tempest of emotion 
surged through his brain. That poor girl in London, 
friendless, almost penniless, as innocent ot the world and 
its ways as a child ! It was maddening ! 

As soon as he could get a substitute he rushed off to 
London, but no trace of his lost Rose could he ever ob- 
tain. For two yearj he searched for her, subordinating 
all professional advancement to the quest, b'lt it was all 
in vain. She had disapp-ared as utterly as if the earth 
had opened up and swallowed her. What had become of 
her? Who could say? Or rather, who could doubt 
what to say who calculated the chances coolly and dis- 
passionately? For months Dr. Wynne walked the streets, 
eagerly following every t:dl, slim girl with brown hair, 
fearing horribly that each poor wanderer might be 
"Shakespeare's girl," as he used to call her, and always 


- \^ ^'\J n^> ■ 1-i' ^-i-' 



Ideal Ai\d Real. 


finding quite another face than (hat he knew so well. The 
little white ruse never left hii heart, but. alas ! it was no 
tilisman to guide him to lier. At last, hope long defcrrcil 
niado lliG heart sick. He had ahai.doncd the !io|X"less 
cjiH'Sl, and never had he dreamed of reucwiug it until last 
Ciiristmas eve. 

As he thought over it aTl the train had passed Rugby, 
had le.t VVartVn:k.ihire, and wa* ipeeding thrijugh the 
bkirts of the D ack Country. He tuok small note of the 
change in the landsjape. His thoughts ueie \vi;h his 
heart, and that was far away. And as he sat and re- 
volved endlessly the ([ueslion of her fate hia hand sou ht 
instinctively the poeket-book wl,ere lay the little while 
rose. He took it out and pressi'd the envelope to his lips. 
Then he opci^ed anolhrr envelope, and re-reai for the 
tliousandth lime the pige fro.n h:r diarj' nuw tU yellow and 
treastd. It was ene'o^ed in the only letter .she had ever 
sent hiiTi. She h;id written it the i iglit after that 
summer day when he had first told her that he loved her. 
She had received his dc( larsition su calujly, the intensity of 
her delight forbidding utitrance, that he had no sooner left 
her than ^he hastentd to pour out her soul to him in her 
diary, and when she went awaj' the tore out the page and 
st-nt it him, as if to let him know what she might never 
have an oppoituiuty of telling him. Hii tye:i dimmed 
with tears as he once more ptruscd the passion- 
ate outpouring of the heart-s ul of thid child of nature, 
and remembered how tragically it had ail ended! 

This is what she had written ii) her diary : — 

" Oh, Walter, my own dearest darling, how can I ever 
tell you of the Inve wh.ich plows in my heait ? I have 
never in my whole life felt such rapture as I did when I 
heard you say \ou loved me. Oh, W.Tlter, Walttr, I would 
«illiiit;ly die" ratlur than not have heard these sweet, 
siveet words. Uh, my imn, then jeu really tio love 
nje— love me- love mc ! Tliese are the only words 
in the u liok language 1 care to ht ar. Oh, my \-m e, how 
I love you 1 1 canr.ot say what I feel or hoiv I feel, 
I am all in a glow of joy and peace, and of contented 

"Oh, Walter, my own, and rea'ly my own. How won- 
drously your love has lr,insfDrmed life for me 1 My whole 
soul is transfigured. I am radiart with the glow and 
fitor>' of your love. Oh, Waller, \\ alter, 1 cani.ot speak 
f6r the throbbing at d palpitating of ray heart It seems 
all too unspeakably marvellous to he true. 1 used to think 
dreams were sweeter than life could be ; but now I know 
that life is sweeter, lichtr. and more divine. 

"This r.ight 1 have bten in Paradise In Heaven 1 
could not be more full of ecstasy. Oh, Walter, yon are 
mine, mine, mit'.e, Love, Love, Love, irine, mine, mine — 
the words ring in my ears like the mns-ic of chiming belh. 
I am fitting on the side of my l>ed surrounded by your 
gifts, the rose-bud and your pf,jtrait, like a queen among 
her je^v^,■ls, and I wonder and wonder and wonder again 
how it was that God gave me this great gift of love. 
Oh, Walter, you who hear the very throb and beat of my 
heart, I need' not. I cannot tell ym l.ovv I love you. But 
that is an old talc now ; the new, the delightfully incre- 
dible new tale is that you really do love me, and that you 
arc mine. Love, mine ! Now, beloved, I must tear myself 
away until I can go to bed and dream. Oh, what a 
miracle that realitv should be even better than the bright- 
est dream ! 

" You will never cease to love me. I know that now. 
Oh, the hliss of yotir love. It i* beyond my utmost dreams. 
I will keep the while rose til! it withers all away, dear 
messenger of lov-*. I have almost kissed it away ! 

"Oh, Walter, how good you are to rae, how kind, and 
1 to you am what ? Oli, less than nothing, but whatever I 

am I am yours — yours altogether for life and death, time 
and eternity, body, soul and spirit. Yours now and for- 

" Poor child," he said, •' she is a passionate Juliet, and 

to th-nk ! ' And he clenched hi^ teeth, and said no 

more, but his brjw grew dark, and his thou.hts %vere so 
sombre that when his fiicnd met him at Chester, he was 
startled by his gloom, nor could he shake off the oppres- 
sion f jr many hours. 

Chapter II.— Ideal and Real. 

WiiES' Dr. Wynne woke the next morning the sun was 
shining brightly, and there had come to him in the night 
a strange new hope. He wai on his way to Chicago ; he 
had started to put his fortune to the touch, lo win or lose it 


all. At last it was to be settled one way or the other, and 
the conviction grew that it would be settled the right way. 
He had dreamed of Rose — that was nothing new. In the 
two years during which he had sought her vainly, hia 
dreams were his chief consolation. She was always with 
him ill dreamland, and it was the abiding sense of her 
reality in sleep that enabled him to support the misery of 
the day. 

Since Christmas at Orchardcroft, he had dreamed of 
her more frequently. That night at Chester he had 
dreamed that he was again at Ann Hathaway s Cottage. 
There was the familiar thatched roof and the cottage 
garden, and the well-known windows, and the while rose 
by tlie door, but the surroundings seemed strangely un- 
familiar. For the Hathaway Cottage seemed lo be standing 
near tlie shore of a great sea, and all around it were otbei 



From tih- 


.„„ds than t;« »™- -ti^fThtrld^ 
clK. l.°liut «i as tL irregular f^otfaU of 

Trlater than had ever trodden the Warwickshire lanes 
And,belorc Ihe cotiage, he saw a form 'hat seenied at 
first the of a strarger. He approached her. and 
"o^elhing made his heart ihrob vviidly He came nearer 
5tiU, and saw it was his long-sought-for love. And behold 
it was only a dream! , 

But the £un shone brighter for the dream, and in an 
irrational, superstitious kind of way, he fell as if the vision 
«as an encouragement of his quest of Rose. So, after 
hreakfast, he gladly agreed to his friend Toms proposal to 
f pend a few hours before the train left tn strolling around 

'''« city. . , , ^ „ , 

<'To tell you the truth. Tom, said the doctor, I came 
1 ere almost as much to see Chester as to see you. When 
<pne is starting for Chicago, it is good to take a last, linger- 
ing look at a place which is everjthing Chicago is not" 

"Ves," Tom replied, "I never understand haw it is 30 
few Americans, comparaii^-ely, come to Chester. It is the 
most authentic antique in tlie Old World, planted, atniost 
as if for inapcction, close to the very AmericM edge of the 
ICaslem hemisphere, and yet how few there are who deem 
it a duty ' to do Chester.' " 

They went down Watergate Street to the city walls, and 
were soon looking down upon the Roodec and the wind- 
i!ig De«. 

"From Chester to Chicago," said Walter, as he leant 
over the parapet, " the journey is but one of days, but 
It spans two thousand years. " 

" Yon had better take your fill of antiquity here," said 
Tom,' flippantly, "You will find more history here in a 
single street than in all the booths of ihe \'anity Fair that 
is built on the shore of Lake Michigan." 

Chester is a city ivhose beginnings are lost in the 
" pin-ple mist of centuries and of song,' The Welsh 
border has not yet found its Scott, or even its Wilson, to 
make the 1 eroism of its past an imperishable possession 
for all time. But Chester was a great Border stronghold. 

Old World to Jin£ New. 

Kound these once rugged battlements which, thouM. 
patched and modernized, remain the one perfectly intart 
city wall in England, sentinels have for sijtteen ecnturi^ 
been keeping watch and ward for the dominant po«^ 
The city is a microcosm of English life. The Cathedral' 
the Castle, the City Walhi, the Towers, enclose as moti 
English history as any spot save the sacred circle around 
the Ahbev at Westminster, It is a kind of jewelled clasi> 
with which History links together the first century and ih. 

PMograp/uil ly] 


century and the 
nineteenth. It unites the fortunes of the centurions of the 
Twentieth Legion with the bishop who alone of his brethren 
has grappled in the Spirit of a statesman with the almoit 
insoluble problem of the tavern. 

As the doctor looked down from the city walls over the 
Rocdee, Tom said, "There is the most beautiful race- 
course in England— almost, if _ not (lulte— and quite the 
most interesting. Long centuries apo there was a famous 
shrine at Hawarden— Mr. Gladstone's Ha warden— where 
there was an image of the Virgin held in high repute of 
all the couutryhidc, for Hawarden has from old been ■ 
place of pilgrimage from far and near. But, unfortunately, 
it fell out— I don t know exactly how— that the prayers of 
t!ie \*orahippers were not answered. They bore it for a 
time, but finding that there was no imprwement, they 
acted as the present lord of Hawarden did with the 
Unionism which he professed so ardently in the days 
when he exhausted the resoiircc-s of civilisation by lockinjj 
up Mr. Fame 11. That is to say, they rounded on their 
fetich, pulled her down from her shrine, and bundled her 
ignominiously into the river, Down the Dec she floated, 
a miserable, forlorn spectacle, uniii the tide washed her 
ashore od the Roodee, which you see before you. Then 
there happened %vhat has happened quite recently. The 
despised outcast from Hawarden became the god of 
Chester's idolatry, and the sliriuc of the Virgin rescued 
from the flood became the central object of the popular 

"Curious," mused the doctor. "But Hai^rarden tri- 
umphed after all. Where is the Virgin to-day? Her 
shrine is given over to the Bacchanals of the turf, whereas 
Hawatden sways the sceptre of the empire of the 

" Now," said Tom, " come 
along to the Tower, which in- 
terests me more than all the ei- 
liibits at Chicago, It is the 
Phoenix Tower, at the north-east 
corner, right at the other ei- 
tremity of the city,' 

So saying, they left llie walls 
after a last long look at the Roo- 
dee and the famous river where 
Egbert, first king of llie English, 
was rowed in his barge by six 
tributary kings, and hurrying down 
Watergate Street, were soon at 
the central cross made by the 
streets running at right angles in 
the old Roman fashion from gate 
to gate of the ancient Castra. 

" You will find nothing >n all 
America like tlie Rows," said 
Tom, pointing as he spoke to 
the wonderful and unique arcade* 
in the first floor, which the Chester 
people call the Rows. '"The 
like," as old Fuller said, ' is not to 
be seen in all England, no, nor in 
Europe again.' Arcades there are 
i.'fr- Eaton, Livirpooi. in Paris, in Bologna, where they 



Ideal and Real. 


tre endless, and in B(>rne, where lliey are beautiful, but 
it is only here where you have your arcade 011 the first 

They slowly sauntered on, admiring the quaint old 
masonry, the charaeterisiic compound of timber and stone, 
the picturesque gables over the occasional inscription. If 
it were on the Continent, Cook would organise tours to 
visit it. As it is in England this native Nuremberg 
escapes attention. After a time they came out upon the 
walls again, and ia a few minutes were at the Phani.'C 

" Here," said Tom, " Is where I always come when I 

sweep of the city walls, " And what a mine for a psycho- 
metrist 1 To a really gifted clairvoyant it would be diffi- 
cult to go along the street for the throng of memories that 
are embodied in these old stones : Roman legionary ; the 
Mercian carl who wedded great Alfred's daughter ; Hugh 
the Wolf, who came over with William the Conqueror 
and was his warden of the Welsh Marches; Charles 
Stuart, down to Kingsley and Gladstone, -he who could 
utilise the sixth sense that enables one to use this great 
phonograph of ancient stone would need no other guide 
to English history. But, alas t psycUometrists are rare, 
and the most gifted might well be baffled by the palimp- 


am worried or inclined to despond and imagine myself the 
moat miserable of men. For it was from the summit of 
this tower that Charles the First, hunted and driven, and 
ready to perish, strained his eyes to see the last cast of 
the dice, on which kingdom, yes, and even life, were 
staked. It was towards the end of September, 1645, 
when the Royalist cavalry under Sir Mamiaduke Lang- 
dale, who had escaped alive from the hammer strokes of 
Cromwell's Ironsides at Naseby light, made their last stand 
for the ancient monarchy on the battlefield of Kowton 
Moor. Imagine liow he must have felt when the Cat'aliers 
broke and fled, never to re-assemble, and the king came 
down from the tower to flee for hii life." 

"What an old-world place it is," remarked the doctor, 
as he looked over to the Cathedral and followed the 

sest of impressions there must be in those old 

" Now," said Tom Gatenhy, after they had strolled 
through the Cathedral and visited Csesar's Tower, " there 
is one thing you must do. You must really go to Eaton 
and see the pictures.'' 

There would be no need to follow the doctor and 
his cicerone to Eaton Hall were it not that, when they 
were going over the drawing-room of that stately pleasure 
house, Tom Gatenby felt his companion grip his arm. 

'' Look," said the doctor, almost under his breath, " it 
is her face ! " 

Tom Gatenby looked where his companion pointed, 
hardly noticing the white intensity of his face. 

" Yes," said he, carelessly, " it is one of my favourite 


From thk Old World to the New. 



pictures -very fine. But what ails yoti. man ? Come out 
into tlie fresh air." and so sajing, he led the doctor into 
the grounds He seemed lemporarily distraught. 

"It is her face ! it is her face ! " he mi-.itered. "1 could 
swear to it out of a million." 

Tom Gatenhy looked at him with some curiosity, not 
unmixed with sympathy. Like the rest of the doctors 
fmnds. he had a more or less dim idea that Wynne had 
broken his career for a woman, and this picture, no doubt, 
had some m; stcrious resemblance to the lady in question. 
So he said nothing. After a while, the doctor regained 
hts self possefsion. 

" Pardon me," he said. " I felt a little upset. But let us 
go back to the pictures." 

They went hack to the drawing-room without a word. 
The doctor scnitiiuiiied the picture closely. It was one of 
the fharacletislie paintings of a great artist, full of sug- 
gestion, of imagination, and of beauty. But the soul of 
the whole composition ctntrcd in the eyes, in the mournful 
pathos of Ihe ejcs of the central fisure. 

" If she was like that," said Tom Gatenby, solio veee, 
" she was a Ixauty, and no mistake." 

"Not hke that," said the doctor. " It is she herself." 

No other word was spoken, and after carefully noting 
the date of the picture, they left the place. 

The doctor was strangely s'.len'. His eyes seemed to 
have caught some of the far-away dreamy expression of 
the painting Presently he said.— 

" 1 shall not go to Liverpool to-night. I am going to 
Ha warden." 

It was Sitiirday afternoon. He was going to spend the 
last Sunday in the seclusion of an ideal parish. On tbe 

Monday he would go to Liverpool, book his passage, and 
turn his back on the Old World. It was characteristic of 
the man He would go alone, he said, when his frienti 
proposed to accomjiany him. And he went. He put up 
at th ■ "Glynne Arms,'' and, as soon as the inn was 
qiiitt, he went to bed, 

Biit not to steep. At last he had a clue. The year 1 887. 
the date of the picture, was not inconsisletit wilh his 
theory. The eyes were painted from no other eyes than 
i'Mse of his Rose, ... He did not argue about it; he 
kii'w it. They «ere her eyes, just as he had seen them 
1 -lit; rtpn, just as lie had seen them only the previous night 
i;; ti;<- ilrcam-visiun at Chester. She must have sat to the 
;jin-t as a model. He bit liis lip as he thought of it. Had 
iM to come to that. And, yet, Tt flection (old him it 

PhologrjpMd 4,,] (^_ _ _ Satan. 



Ideal and Real. 


vms by no means improbable. Her graceful, slender figure, 
her singular beauty, would secure her constant cniploy- 
irent. "Fool that I was," he lliovight, "rcvrr to have 
worked that vein before." Gut now tliat he had the clue 
he would follow it up. He aliroM thought of giving up 
his journey to Chicago. It was only for a moir.ciU. He 
lay still for a time, and then he got up, lit the cardie, and 
wrote to a friend in London, ashing him to call on the 
artist in question, and ascertain iE possible, the address of 
tlie model who sat for the central figure in the canvas of 
1887. '■ Follow up any due. and lelegreph me ' White 
Star. Liverpool,' what results." He «e;!ed it, stamped it, 
and then went to bed, this time to sleep. 

F.arly on Sunday morning he pf'Sled it, ard when the 
bells began to ling for moniiiig serurc, be n-adc lis way 
to the parish church. The Prin-.e Minister, fresh from a 
crisis of mutiny in the Coininotis, with a crisis of def;nr ce 
iniihe Lords, had hurried down to Hawatden to In-.-itl.c 
the divine air cf early June, and efcape for a day cr two 
from the harassing buzz of whips and colle.-Jguts at Down- 
ing Street - It was not generally known that he wasjit the 
Castle, and there was no crowd sucli as is sometimes 
attracted by the chance of hearing the Premier at the 
lectern. The old church was fairly well filled with 
villagers and residents in the neighbourhood. The Kev. 
Stephen Gladstone was at the reading-desk, and Dr. Wynne 
saw vvitii some satisfaction, Mr. and Mrs. Gladstone enter 
the church and take their seats in the chancel. 

When the senice began, the doctor forgot the Prime 
Minister, forgot everything, even forgot his own personal 
anxieties in the wave of emotion that passed over hiro. He 
«as not dulled into indifference to the beauties and the 
significance of the Morning Service by constant use and 
wont. His [jTofession left him tiitle time forattendanc at 
church, and he did not make Ihc most of the chances he 
had. Hence, when on rare occasions he found himself in 
an English church, it appealed to him with fresh force. 
When the organ pealed through the nave, he seemed to 
hear the inarticulate voice of successive generations of the 
English race struggling in vain to express their aspiration 
afttr the ideal. 

And as the service went on with aUernate prajer and 
praise, and the chanting of the white- robed choir filled 
the church with ihe sweet voices of youth attuned to 
immortal meJody, he surrenden'd himself utterly to the 
hallowed inflK*nce of the scene and place. Like a gri-at 
golden shaft of divine light, this service seemed to strclch 
athwart dim forgotten centuries. AJl oyer England that 
day, :ind also ui all the colonies, dependencies, and re- 
publics, where men spoke with the English tongue, that 
senice had gone on. these prayers were being prayed, these 
psalms were being chanted, that simp'e creed was being 
gaid or sung. It was one of the great unifying dements of 
our world-scattered race. In the midst of lives sordid with 
constant care, and daik with the impending shadow of 
want and the darker gloom of death, this service, attuned 
to the note of "Our Father," made for one brief hour 
music and melody \vith gladness and joy in the hearts of 
miserable men. 

It is the constantly renewed affirmation of " God's English- 
speaking men" of their faith in their Father-God; ami here 
in Hawarden, Prime Minister and jiet^sant knelt loptther 
etjual before their Maker. For hundreds of years these 
solemn words had embodied all that was highest and best 
in the thoughts of the greatest and noblest, and for many 
hui dred jears to come, the English-speaking race will 
find the expression of their hopes and their aspirations, 
in the simple but stately words of the Book of Common 

•'What is there in the New World?" thought the 

doctor, as he stood .itrong the dispersing congregation, and 
bowed as the Old Man Eloquent passed out to resume 
the guidance of his countrj's destiraes— " ^A here, in all the 
rabblement of sectaries which has sprung from the seed 
sown by the men of the Mayfiov fr, v\ill you find a 
service "si harmonious, so beaiitiful, so true to human 
nature as this? They have no Church Establishment 

it 4' fe^ ;' 


pethaps. But is that dubious gain not bought with a heavy 
price if it makes impossible the national organisation of 
Christian effort along concerted lines of progress, this 
uniform upholding of the Christian ideal in every parish 
of the hind ? " 

It was vtith some such thoughts as these still lingering 
in Ihis brain that, the next day, he took the train for 
Liverpool. "There," he said, "is the American gate of 
our sea-girt citadel. At Hawarden we have the ideal rural 
parish. At Liverpool, the doorstep of the Motherland, we 
shall, no doubt, find as ideal a civic recognition of Christi- 

A friei>d met him at the station and took him to iiia 
hotel, and then undertook to show him the sights. Like 
ever>- one else, he .admired St. Georges Hall, and, like 
most people, he was interested in, but not delighted vv ith, 
the Nelson monument on the Exchange Flags. 

'■ The group is striking," he said ; " but how pagan the 
exultation over the conquered foe, displayed in the 
manacled prisoners round the base of the statue ! 1 have 
seen nothing like it since the Assyrian sculptors carved 
their bas-reliefs at Nineveh, showing the triumphant 
monarch marching over the prostrittc bodies of their 

They had left the Flags, the Cotton Bourse of the 
world, and were out in the street. 

"What a splendid site that church occupies," he re- 
marked to his companion. "1 am glad to sec that 
even within store-throw of the temple of Mammon the 
piety of Liverpool has reared a Christian temple." 

"Hum, hum I" replied his companion, "that church is 
doomed. It is one of the Coiporation churches, the 
largest, the emptiest, and the most costly. Come' on 
Sunday, and you will find a corgregation of half-a- dozen. 
For some years the incumbent was always in the courts. 
Forttinately, the days of Corporation churches are ended, 
and the large, viseless place is to come down." 

The doctor lootted at his guide to see if he were making 
a bad joke. Tinditig him serious, he asked to be taken to 
the Cathedral. They were not long in reaching it 


From the Old World to the New. 

" This the Cathedral ? You must have made a mstakc. 
I don" asswialc the word cathedral with that abortion. 
You ^ or you may not. but this is our cathedral ; 

we have no other. . . , 

Dr Wynne s amazement w-as not unnatural Liverpool, 
which grilles itself upon being the second commercial city 
the empire, and ^vhich is t!ie first English town visited 
Ly ourTiend.; bevond the .ea, has . cathedral that would 
disgrace the Muggletonians in the back slums ol South - 
wark A more hideous specimen of the architecture of 
the days wlien the bcautifyl oak stalls ol Chester Cathe- 
dral were painted greeo it would be difficult to find in all 

Dr Wynne and his companion entered the building. 
• which is as ugly within as without. It was Monday- 
christening day in Liverpool. They sat down to observe 
the administration of the Sacrament of I^ptism ac- 
cording to the rites of the Church of England. He had 
read and admired the service in the l^ayer Book, It 
would be difficull to find a more beautilul ceremony 
than this of the dedication and consecration of the young 
life at the font. Everything was provided for. Parents 
were to be there to present their infants at the font, anil 
lest they might fail in their duty a kind of understudy was 
to be provided in the shape of godfathers and godmothers, 
who were tot.ike solemn vows upon themselves for the due 
upbringing of the children in the nurture and admonition 
of the Lord. 

Dr. Wynne, who was no small enthusiast m his way, 
especially about subjects with which his acquaintance was 
so slight as to afford his imagination elbow-room, had fre- 
quently disgusted his Nonconformist friends by the 
\-ehemencciuth which he praised the Anglican baptismal 
senice as the English child's Bill of Rights. 

[F. At. t9ttm 

' Pholigmphld by] 



[/". A". Eaten, 

Phatographti ftv] 


" Mother Church," he used to s«y, " may have her 
abuses, but one thing at least she has done. She has 
f-ompelled generation after generation of Englishmen to 
recognise publicly in the most snlemii manner the sacred 
obligations of parentage, and has affirmed among the funda- 
mental rights of eveiy English child the claim lo have not 
only a legal father and a legal mother, who will stand up 
and acknowledge their responsibility for its rearing and 
education, but also two supervising and supplementary 
foster parcms, upon whom, if the origin jI parents die or 
fail in their duty, will devolve the solemn obligations of 
training the child in the ways ot Christian citizenship " 

It was, therefore', with keen and sympathetic interest 
that he sctiled himself in one of the high-backed pews 
to watch the progrt- ss of the ceremony. 

There were about a dozen mothers all in a row holding 
their infants. In front of them stood a surpliccd clergy- 
m,in reading, more or less indistinctly, something from 
t he Prayer Book. The attention of the mothers was con- 
cent rate'd upon keeping their charges from crj'ing. Behind 
the row of tnothi-rs stood a solitarj' man. 

There were no fathers, ami there was only this 
solitar)' substitute for the posse of twenty-four supple- 
mentary parents, the godfathers and godmothers, which 
were the legal right of the dozen uncqcscious little manni- 
kins who squirmed and cried as the water fell upon their 
fares, and were named in turn by the strange man in 
white robes, who held them for a moment in his arm and 
then restored them to their mothers. It might not be 
legal, but the fact was there. Instead of having father 
and mother and gotlfather and godmother to take vows 
before high heaven for the right upbringing of the new- 
come morsiel of humanity, each little Li^-erpudlian had got 
but the vow of one mother and the twelfth part of a 
single substitute for godfather and godmother. Here was 
a descent indeed from the lofty idealisation in which he 
bad indulged so freely. It was with a sense almost of a 
personal injury that the doctor left the church. 

His companion took his arm, "You are new to our 
ways, I see,'' he said, pleasantly, " What ailed you at the 
christening ? " 

" Christening ! " said the doctor, bitterly. " It is no bap- 
tism, it IS a farce. A sacrament forsooth ! Why, I never 
saw a more hupRer-mugger travesty ot the order of service 
in my life. What is the Bishop about to allow it ? " 

" Hoity-toity, my good friend," replied his companion, 
" Don't be in such a pickle. Lofty ideals arc all very 


Off at Last. 


well, but in this workaday world if you look too steadily 
at the stars you somttimes get landed in an uncommonly 
ditty ditch. Do you think one Churchman in a thousand 
iakes godfathering seriously ? I know of none. What 
does godfather mean in the middle-class ? Practically, a 
tax of the cost of a silver mug which the godfather gives 
to his godchild. If that is so among the strious people 
who attend church regularly, what can you expect among 
the masses of the poor and uneducated ? " 

Dr. VVynne was silent. His companion had halted just 
outside the cathedra! door, Tlirec disreputable-looking 
creatures, standing with their back to the w*a!l, were light- 
ing their pipes. From where they stood caught the familiar 
sanguinaf)- adji."Ctive with which low-class Englishmen 
variegate their vocabulary. 

"Doctor," said his friend, as they moved away, "do 
you sec those three fellows yonder ? " 

"Yes," said the doctor. "They are not difficult to see, 
or hear, or .smell,' he added, as the wiad brought the reek 
of their tobacco into his face. 

" Who do yoii take them to be ? " 

Dr. Wynne scrutinised them from head to foot. " One 
might be a broke n-do^vn clerk with a brandy nose ; 
anotiier a corner-boy with a black coat on ; the thiitl a 
dock labourer w;uting to be hired." 

"Just SI. Hut you will never guess what they do for 
their hving. W.iit here a moment and you will see." 

They crossed tlie street and took up a position from 
which they could observe the three worthies. Presentl.v 
it became evident that there was ti» be a second christen- 
ing service, for mothers \vith babies began to come up. 
As each ncared the catliedral door one of the touts ap- 
proached her with a question. Most attempts were re- 
bufied, but one man was fortunate. .Vfter a little parley 
he followed the motIi;r and child into church, 
"Now. doctor, what do you think of that?" 
"I understand nothing. It was all dumb sliow to me." 
"Well, if you ha J stood nearer tliera, as I ha\-e done 
tnatiy a time, you wotiKl have heard their question. It is 
always the same: 'Missus, do you want a godfather?' 
Most of tbem, aayou see, were rcbufted. In one case in 
engagement was effected, probably for the usual conaidera- 

" Which is?" 

"A shilliug and a drink. That used to be the regular 
tariff when I was familiar with the btf^iness. These men 
are prolessional godfathers. Every Monday they used to 
hang round here on the chance of picking up a shilling ftir 
a christening joli, with beer thrown in. The clergj-, of 
course, discountenance all such bargains, but they cannot 
akog 'thcr stop them. They struck a hea\-y blow at pro- 
fessional godfathering when they allowed one man to stand 
sponsor wholesale, but the practice lingers, as you sec." 
Here was Realism displacing Ideulism witli a ven- 

feance. What a desceiit from the lofty musings at 
lawarden to the professional godfather at a shilling a 
head I 

" Perhaps the men of the Mayflower were not so very 
far wrong after all," he said, '■ if this is tl;c outcome of 
formalism worked like a crank machine, I wish I had not 
had to say good-bye to the Old World with such a dis- 
agreeable taste as this story leaves in the mouth." 

■' Facts are facta, dotrtor," said his companion. '• They 
are not nice, no doubt. But, after all, the poor beggar 
made a living out of it, and no one really was rery much 
the worse.' 

" I wonder," said Dr. W^-nnc, as he wound up his i^atcf 
before going t'l bed that night, " if that is the net pr.ic- 
tical outcome of nineteen centuiies of eftort to impress the 
human mind with the importance of Christian baptism ! " 

Chapter III.— Off at Last. 
" HAU.00, Wynne, where in the name of fortune are you 
bound for ? " was the unexpected salutation which greeted 
the doctor as he was entering the break fast -room of his 
hotel the next morning. In a moment he had grasped the 
hand of his old college friend. Jack Compton. 

" Dr. Wynne, let me introduce you to Professor Glogoul, 
one of the Faculty," The introduction over, the party of 
three sat down to breakfast. 

Jack Compton was a swarthy, dark-bearded man in the 
prime of hfe ; of middle stature, with an eye %vhich had a 
strange far-away iook, as if it saw into eternity, which 


contrasted strangely with the resolute onder-jaw and the 
humorous smile that played around his lips. He had 
le ft college six months after Walter had entered it, but, in 
these six months a strong attraction had drawn them to- 
gether, and although they seldom corresponded, they had 
never entirely lost touch of each other. Compton was 
reputed to be enormously wealthy. He \vas unmarried, and 
money was to him merely a counter in the great game upon 
which lie had staked his life. 

His companion, Professor Glogoul, was a strange con- 
trast in every waj'. He believed in protoplasm, and nothing 
behind it ; in the social organism, and nothing before it, 
Man was, to him, temporarily animated matt'T, suspended 
in a fragment of space of which he knew little or nothing. 
Of New England stock, he inherited the philosophy of 
Jonathan Edwards, mmiit his theism. Believing that 
man, like other phenomena, could only be studied 
under the microscope, he spent his life in a kind of 


From the Old World to the New. 

i >1 


moral vivisection, praciised chiefly upon criminals ana 
the insane. His great word was the "Abnormal." "Study 
the abnormal !" he used to say ; "it holds the keys of the 
normal. Only by magnifying the kink a million times can you 
understand how the kink is formed. Everyone is a bunch 
of latent kinks. The criminal nrd the lunat'c are simply 
the result of tlie exaggeration of one or the other of the 
kinks in your own head." He was just return inR from a 
visit to Lombroso, with an imperishable manuscript in his 
wallet, explaining the physiological genesis of all the 
famous murders of the last ton yca«. Free w ill was to 
him as absurd as the philosopher's stone ; moral respon- 
sibility an exploded delusion. There was no God but the 
Social Organism, and the experimental physiologist was his 
prophet What was good for the social organism was 
right ; what was not good for it was wrong. Of other 
tests he knew nothing, 

Dr, Wynne felt a curious kind of attraction and repul- 
sion in the presence of the professor. He was an 
fnthusiast, with the stuff of a martyr in him. But like the 
demoniac in the gospels, his dwelling was amongst the 
tombs, and his eye had the stet-Iy glitter arid glare of one 
who, having gazed into hell, lias caught some reflection ol 
its flames. > 

" Now, Wynne," Compton began, after helping him to 
coffee. " Where are you off to ? Chirago, I suppose, like all 
the rest of us. And what is your ship ? "* 

" [ don't know yet," replied W'ynne, " but I want to sail 
at once. What steamers are leaving to-morrow ? Do you 
happen to know ? " 

The professor pricked up his ears, levelled his swivel 
eye at Wynne's cranium, and seemed to make a mental 
note of some physiologico-mental pecuharity in a new 

" If that doesn't beat Banajjlif-r," said Compton, laughing, 
"You want to sail to-morrow, arid you have cot taken 
your berth yet?" 

"Certainly not," said Wynne, feeling slightly uncomfort- 
able. " Why should I ? I only arrived yesterday, and I 
thought of going down and seeinp ;ibout booking to-day." 

"Osatt£ia sintplicilm," said Cunipton. "Are you not 
aware that this is the year of the 'W'orld's Fair, and that 
all berths are hooked three weeks, and sometimes three 
months in advance ? WTien did u-c bo<ik our berths 
professor ? " 

"Just six weeks suice, and then «•« thought ourselvea 
lucky to be in time," replied the professor. 

The doctor felt ver>- uncomfortable, 

" When do vou start ? " he asked, 

" To-morro*, on the Majestic, of the White Star Line, 
one of the best boats afloat. And she is as comfortable as 
she is sivift. But, don't be downhearted, we must take 
you along with us somehow. It is a chance not to be 

" Yes," said the doctor, ruefully. " It ought not to be 
missed, indeed. But what I should have done not to miss 
it was not done, and now it is too late. Is there much 
difTerencc between one berth and another?" asked the 

"Rather," replied Compton. "The great thing to get 
is a berth as near the centre of the ship as possible, and as 
far away as possible from the entrance to the galley or a 
lavatory. If you get a berth in the bow, if there is much 
of a sea, when she pitches well forward you feel as if you 
were being suddenly dropped a hundred feet into the 
al^ss. Then, if you are next to the cooking-place, ycu 
are disagreeably reminded of food at moments when the 
desire for it is at a minimum. But look here," he con- 
tinued, producing a small plan of the Majatif, "these ire 
first-class cabins, 133 of them, varying in (wrr* from/roo 


Off at Last. 


■for a room to ^r8 for a berth. These below are secotic'- 
class, or intermediates, costing from /8 to £\i per bertt:. 
The steerage passengers arc fore and aft. They are bed- 
ded, lodged, and carried, if they bring their own bedding, 
cups, plates, and other utensils, at ^4 a head. Our cabin 
is letter V. We have a cabin to ourseb'es. They are 
made up with berths for two, or berths for four. It is a 
great lottery whom you ha\'e to room with ; sometimes 
you may be very imlticky, being berthed with the sea-sick, 
OT the chatterbox, or the snorer.-' 

" But what must I do ? " said the doctor, somewhat 
helplessly. " Wait for three weeks, or go steerage ? " 

" Never say die, old chap," said Compton, encouragingly. 
*' Come d»wn with me to the White Star office as soon 
as breakfast is over, and we will see what can be done." 

"You look after him," said the professor, "for I must 
leave you now. I have an appointment in Walton GaoL 
There is a murderer in the condemned cell, who is to be 
hanged next Monday, and 1 hope to spend a few hours 
\\\K\\ him to-day. A most interesting case, with features 
that baflle me. One gets to be quite a connoisseur in 
murderers," he added, half apologetically. "Many are so 
commonplace 1 ivould not cross the Toad to see them. 
But this man is a jewel. It is a thousand pities he is to 
be hanged so soon. Of all nations I think the Englith 
make the most spendthrift waste of choice specimens 
of criminal pathology." 

When the professor left, the doctor said, — 

"^^■!lat a str.inge fellow you have picked up in that 
professor ! It makes one's tlesh creep to hear bim 
talk, and to see that swivel eye as if 
it were a telescope through which he ^^ 

could look right into the middle of your 1^ 


" Oh. the professor is a first-rp.te 
good fellow. Yon hear 
how he talks about speci- 
mens. I keep him near 
me as my specimen. You 
know ^ve nave to study 
the abnormal in under- 
stand the normal. He 
is the aboormal scien- 
tist, to whom human 
beings are as interest- 
ing as larvae, worthy of 
as much consideration and 
of as little. He bom 
good, vHth ha'if-a-dojien 
generations of Puritan 
blood in him ; otheAvise 
he would be intolerable. 

He is tender hearted, kind, enthusiastic, and a very 
pleasant companion. But, for all that, he is the type of 
one kind of man whom we are rearing in our schools. 
That is why I keep him near me. For those n'ho would 
influence the generations that are to come must be con- 
stantly reminded of the strsams of tendency with which 
they have to contend, and the nature of the strata on 
which they have to build." 

As he spoke, Compton 's eyes assumed that far-away look 
which gave his face the semblance of a seer. It was only 
for a moment, however. '' Come," said he, " let us lose 
no time." 

Th^ went into Water Street, and walked down 
among the crowd of clerks and merchants making their 
way to their desks and counting-houses. Presently they 
reached the White Star office. 

" \\'hen can we book for berths oa the Majeitii?" Comp- 
ton asked of the booking clerk. 

"July 14th Every berth booked until then. Only forty 
or fifty left free after then. Will you select your berth 7 

" No, thank yon," said Compton. " I am booked for to- 
morrow. But I want to take my friend with me." 

" Impossible," said the clerk. " We could have booked 
every berth three times over." 

" I know that," said Compton, somewhat impatiently. 
" But my Irifnd is going on the Atitjestic all the same. 
Will you book him for the first berth which will be left 
vacant at the last moment ? " 

" For the first, no. We have already fire booked for 
chance vacancies. We can let him have the jixth, if he 
cares to lake it. But it is a very off-chance, and 1 doubt 
if he will hear of it at all until it is too late to take bit 
luggage on board." 

"Never - .. 

doctor, " I 

The clerk 
and the ad- 

" N o w," 
make up 
go, and act 
cured your 

mind that,' said the 
will take my chance anj^. 


duly entered his name 
dress of his hotel, 
said Compton, " let ua 
our minds that you wJI 
accordingly. Having se- 
chance of a berth.letushi 
you up comfortably. What 
luggage have you got?" 

"None to speak of. 
An old campaigns r 
marches with a minimuui 
of impedimenta. All my 
earthly belongings arc in 
one Gladstone bag. I 
prefer to buy as I go." 
" But your hat -box V " 
" Haven't got oi:e, aod 
don't mean to. I have a 
beaver, with finps for tie ears, 
in my bag, and low- 
crowned thing on my head." 
Compton looked at bim 
with a half-envious admira- 
tion. '• Well, so be it. But 
three things you must have 
which you have not got. A 
chair for the deck, which you 
must buy at once, and has'c 
it sent on board with the 
other chairs, of which you 
see a pile in the hall of the 
hotel. You can spend from 
5s. to JOS. over a deck chair, 
but a good comfot table chair 
will cost you about los. or ISS. You can stock it at New 
York, or sell it, or give it away, or bring it back when you 
return. Then you must have a rug. And my eipeiience 
is that nothing for warmth and wear beats an opossum 
skin rug, which you can get at any price from £2X0 £8. 
Lastly, you want an overcoat and a light waterproof. Please 
yourself about the former, but, if you are wise, you will 
have a waterproof that is likeivise cleverly ventilated at 
the shoulders by Byers' patent. Now, you go to get these 
things. I must attend to my correspondence." 

Before Dr. Wynne went on to make his purchases, as 
he was choosing hie chair, his attention was attracted by 
the arrival of some new comers — passengers for the 
Majestic. One was a young widow, who was apparently 
alone; another, whose figure made him start— it was so 
like that of his Kose, was an English girl of twenty-two. 
The features were not Rose's, but she w<s beautiful. She 
had the eye of aff artist, and the indescribable pcse of 


From the Old World to the New. 



head and shoulders that spoke of self-conscious power. 
Yet there was a restlessness about the eyes and mouth 
which boded of storm. She seemed to be alone, and as 
she was looking about somewhat helplessly, the doctor 
asked if he could do anything for her. She said she had 
been expecting to meet her cousin. He had not come and 
she must wait for hira. Her name, she said, was Irene 
Vemon. She was on her way to Chicago. 

He did not see her again unltl they all met at the dinner 
table. Irene's natural twauty, which had impressed the 
doctor when he saw her in her travelling wraps, was seen 
to much greater advantage at table. She was beautifully 
but simply dressed, and there peeped out from her raven 
hair a deep red half-opened rose. Her cousin had not 
even then arrived, and Dr. Wynne, as her onljr ecquaint- 
ance, took her in to dinner. She sat between him tnd the 

That excellent member of the social organism was 
describing, willi the keen enthusiasm of a collector of 
bric-ii-brm; the wonderful specimen of the abnormal 
with whom he had been locked up at Walton. He could 
hardly attend to his dinner, so full was he of the traits he 
had noted in this poor wretch, who had but five days to 

The doctor listened with shuddering horror. As for 
Irene, she seemed fascinated. Dr. Wynne, seeing how 
absorbed she was in the professors story, interposed, 

" Really, Dr. Glogoul, I am afraid you are spoiling Miss 
Vernon's dinner. ' 

But she turned round almost indignantly. " Oh, doctor, 
how can you say this ? I am listening with both ears. It 
is quite a new thrill, and I would give anything for a new 

The professor turned his eye upon her swift as a thrush 
Strikes down at the new worm he spies on the lawn. 

" If that is your wish, mademoiselle, I think it is fortu- 
nate we are going in the same steamer." 

Then he resumed his conversation. " I call it wkked, 
criminal waste. From the point of view of the social 
organism it is more wicked to hang that choice specimen of 
a homicide thart it was for him to kill his miserable wife. 
She was a poor creature, consumptive — bad stock. If she 
had lived, she would probably have had some rickety chil- 
dren. Wow the race is, at least, saved their appearance, 
It mattered nothing to anyone whether she lived or died. 
But he— what a wonderful specimen ! What would I 
not give for his skull — even his skull, which is worth 
nothing compared with his living form." 

" And ^vhat woul J you do (\ith him if he were given over 
to you instead of to tlie hangman ? " asked the doctor. 

The professor's eye sparkled. "Oh, what a glorious 
suggestion I What a gain to science, if it could but be 
done 1 What an endless field for experiment there is in 
bis head alone 1'' 

"What kind of experiment ? " asked Irene, somewhat 

" Every kind," replied the professor. " Firstly, by inter- 
viewing him, I would extract everything consciously pre- 
sent in his memory. Then, by hypnotising him, I would 
possess myself of the contents of his subliminal con- 
sciousness. Then I should proceed to vinsect him." 

" Not alive, I hope ? " said Irene, shuddering. 

" Mademoiselle, you dissect when dead ; you vivisect 
when alive. _ But I would not hurt him— at least, not at 
first. He might not last so long if he were made to sufTer 
too much. I should reserve the agony until I had ex- 
hausted all other resources. I should " 

"Professor," said Compton, authoritatively, "that is 
enoush. The sodal organism imperatively asserts that 

instruction in vivisection does not suit the dinner- 
table " 

But Irene said under her breath, "You will tell me all 
about it. won't you, when we get on board } I should die 
happy if I could only see something thrilling -like an exe- 
cution or a vivisection. Life seems so Iiumdriim," 

And the professor, delighted to have found a listener for 
the voyage, assured her that, if it could be done, she 
should see bo*h, . . . . , , j . 

She was really a pretty girl, with the artist developed at 
the expense of the judgment, the will, or the conduct of 
life. She was a nevrcse, like Marie BasIikirtsefT, in music 
what the Russian prototype was in painting, and just as 
liable to sudden fits of gloom or rapture. That evening, 
she played and sang so charmingly that Compton voted her 
musician for the voyage on board the Majestic; and she 
flushed with pleasure, and went to bed wondering how 
long the dehghtful period would last. 

" It won't last," she thought, as she looked at the saucy 
eyes and rosy lips in the glass before putting out the light. 
'• It never does, Heigho ! Now up, up, up ; then down, 
down, down. What a switchback my life is, to be 
sure I Only, sometimes the car sticks in a hole ; other- 
wise it would not be so bad, after all," with which sage 
reflection slie blew out her candle, and slept for the last 
time in the Old World. 

In the Sffloking-room the doctor, the professor, Compton, 
and one or two others were having a not discussion as to 
the best cure for sea-sickness. 

"Nothing is a cure for sea-sickness," dogmatised the 
pirofessor, " and 1 don't want to see a cure. Sea-sickness 
predisposes the patients to be communicative, I find a 
liner my best human laboratory, better even than a gaol. 
For in a gaol the prisoners have no sea-sickness, whereas, 
after a stiff gale, the most secretive of men will tell me 

" All very fine for you, professor," said Compton, " who 
would torture the whole human race in order to verify 
your theory of the biliary ducts, but we who are less 
scientific would prefer to be rid of sea-sickness, even if it 
made your laboratory loss useful. 1 have tried many 
specifics, from champagne to sea-water, but to my think- 
ing nothing beats 'Georgia W.itcr.' It is the product of a 
natural spring in Georgia. 1 know many who, before they 
used Georgia Water, used to dread the Atlantic passage 
as only one degree leas bad than death. Georgia Water 
is not dear. You can buy it id London at 5s. per dozen 
bottles. It is as palatable as the ordinary water. Miss 
Frances Willard was, I think, one of the worst sailors on 
record. After she got Georgia Water she was as free from 
discomfort on the water as on dry land.'* 

" I always use ' Mattel's Scrof. Giap,' as a prophylactic," 
said the doctor. " It is cheap, easy to take, and it is 
excellent as a digestive, even if it fails to effect its imme- 
diate purpose. You take the globules dry or in solution, 
before going on board and whenever you feel qualmish. 
\ patient of mine recently cured a whole shipful of sick 
with this anti-mal-de-mer. 

" And I maintain, in spite of you both, that sea-sickness 
being an afTecfion of the nerves,' said the professor, 
'' cannot be cured by water, or wine, or medicine, or any- 
thing, and it is good that it should be so. To lie flat on 
your back until your system adjusts itself to the pitching 
and rolling, and heaving and plunging— that is all that can 
be done, 'Why should you object to be occasionally 
unwell ? " 

The discussion was interrupted by the waiter, W'ho 
wished to know if they had their luggage all labelled for the 
hold, as the tender would take it off at four in the 
morning. Dr. Wynne had no luggage, and he busied 

Off at Last. 


himsetf in helping Jliss VAtiCa through her little diffi- 

" Take ererything in your cahin," he said, " that you 
need during the voyage. When your luggage disappears 
into the hold, do not expect to see it again. Vou can take 
a good deal of personal luggage into yotir cabin, and stow 
it away under your berth. If tlie weather is bad, it will 
roll about, do doubt, but that will do it no harm — at least 
not i( it is well packed." 

The next morning ihey were up early, and about. The 
doctor, seeing it was bright and sunny, took Miss Ver- 
non a long drive around the city, preserving a discreet 
silence, however, as they passed the cathedral concerning 
his disillusion. Tliey thoroughly enjoyed themselves, and 
when they met their friends at lunch they were the 
brightest of the party. The professor was in good spirits. 
He had spent the morning in a lunatic asylum, and was 
enchanted at discovering a human specimen admirably 
adapted for illustrating one of his favourite themes. 

"It is a poor lady," he said, 'who has the horrible ha'- 
lucination of being strangled by a ruffian. So vivid and 
realistic is hei impression that she would joyfully die to 
escape from it. But do they let her die? Never! 
For fifteen years she has been guarded night and day, 
compelled to eat, forced to continue to live ; and why ? In 
order that she may continue to suffer that awful experience 
every moment of her life ! And yet they consider vivi- 
sectors cruel ! We are angels of mercy, for, at least, wc 
would allow this poor v\Tet<-h the anodyne of death.'' 

Irene's cousin had not arri^-cd, and she was beginning 
to feel uneasy. She could not bear to abandon the jour- 
ney. But to cross the Atlantic without a companion ! 
Most girls would have recoiled from the adventure. Irene 
was attracted by it. Besides, she vvns bent upon seeing 
more of that weird and gifted genius, Professor G logout, 
who seemed to her to have more capacity for giving her 
Ihrttis than any other human being she had yet met. He 
was HO bold, and so original. And then, too, he believed 
in nothing that other people beheved in, and had roundly 
asserted that there was no such thing as sin. Irene han- 
kered after that doctrine, and was already disposed to add 
the professor to the long list of men \\'ith v^hom she was 
pleased to fancy that she had been in love. She had 
spent the mominfi telegraphing frantically for her cousin. 
At three o'clock, just as she was on the point of despair, 
an express letter was delivered to her. It \i'as from her 
cousin, enclosing his tickets. He had sprained his ankle, 
he said, and could not come. If she could f;et any one to 
take his place, and if she cared to chance it, well and 
good. If not, she had better make the best terms she 
could to exchange bookings for a later steamer. 

Poor Irene sat in the hall with her cousin's letter spread 
out before her, the ve ry picture of grief. Dr. Wynne, as 
he was gathering up his traps, caught sight of her woe- 
begone face. 

He crossed the room, and sat down beside her. 

" Miss Vernon, you are in trouble. Have you had bad 
news '! " 

For answer she pushed her cousin's letter across for him 
to read. 

" Well," said he, looking up, " and what have you decided 
to do?" 

"1 am sure I don't know. I don't want to lose this 
trip, and yet I don't know what to do about the ticket, 
and — " 

" If that is all," said the doctor, briskly, " it is soon set- 
tled. Your difficulty pairs off against mine, and all is for 
the best. That is to say if you assent ? ' 

"To what?" 

" To let me take your cousin's ticket, and, so far as is 

possible to a stranger, to undertake your cousin's duties. 
I have only the remotest off-chance of getting a ticket 
otherwise. So, if you don't object, I will be Walter Vernon 
for the voyage, and nou', if it pleases you, I will take my 
cousin down to the tender ? " 

Irene hesitated for a moment. Her cousin was a bit of 
a bear. She did not care for him in the least. The sub- 
stitute cousin was much more handsome, and, to tell the 
triitii, a much more eligible travelling companion than \hf 
absentee with the sprained ankle. But — but —was it not 
a rather risky thing accepting his offer ? He was a com- 
plete stranger. 

At this moment a telegraph boy came up. " Dr. Wynce, 

The doctor, hardly thinking what he was doing, 
opened the envelope mechanically. The moment he saw 
the first word he forgot everything about his prospective 
ticket and Irene. For the telegram was from the friend 
to whom he had written in London, and it ran thus : — 

" Have seen artist. He remembers mode! perfectly. 
Name Rose, very poor, and lonely, but respectable. 
Twelve months since saw her. I^resent address unknown. 
Am following up clue. ' 

For a moment the room swam round before Wynne's 
eyes. He moved instinctively to a couch near by and 
sat down. 

Irene, not much pleased at his sudden loss of interest in 

her affairSihad gone off to consider as to what she should do. 

The doctor, meanwhile, slowlv read the telegram agaii:. 

"Thank God!" he said. "Oh, thank God! At last. 

Thank God, -at last ! " At first he thought of returning at 

once to London. But something restrained him, He 

must go to Chicago. After his return he might take up 

the pursuit. Meantime, his friend would do all that could 

be done. ^ 

"Dr. 'Wynne," said Irene, coming up with the ticket in 

her hand, " 1 suppose I oughtn't properly to accept j-ouf 

kind offer. But that is just the reason why I want lo. So 

I'll go. And I will regard you as my cousin ? 

"Certainly, Miss Vernon," replied the doctor. "You 
have extricated me from a great dilemma. I will telegraph 
lo your cousin, and then wc wilt go on board the tender. ' 
They were soon at the landing-stage, that wonder snd 
pride of Liverpool, the like of which is not anywhere in 
the United Kingdom, or indeed in the world. The tide 
was high, the river was full of life and bustle. The great 
ship which was to be their home for the next week 






From the Old World to the New. 

lav in midstream. The tender ^^■as blowing off her 
steam impatiently, waitiDg for the pass-iigefs Itom Eustoii. 
Porters laden with luggage threaded their ^^^ly to the 
tender. Everywhere there was the lively animation which 
immediately precedes departure. 

" Tliis way, ladies," said the doctor, as he succeeded at 
last in getting Irene and Mrs. Julia pioted safely through 
the croH'd on the gangway, and establislied them with all 
their little impedimenta comfortably at the stern of the 
tender. The Londm tr-iin was in, and the last of the 
passenger* was on baard. The tender gave a farewell 
shriek with its whittle, the gangway rope was cast oft, 
•and the gangway was cleared in another minute. They 
iver rapidly making their way to the Majabc, which, 
wip. steam up all ready to sUrt, was lying at anciior a 
tittle distance down the Mi^rs?y. 

Mrs. Julia's heart was full as she looked back upon 
t'le rec-.'ding dty. Irene, gay with the buoyancy of youth, 
saw before her that infinite rista of a p.iradise perpe- 
tually renewed— the tniragc which youth, that cunning 
magician, casts upon the desert of life. The widow had 
buried hope in her husband s grave, and looked fonvard 
to nothing but the grey imVnown darkening down to the 
grave. And her Up quivered just a little as she thought 
it might be the last^ lime she would ever look upon the 


land where she had lived hei young life, and loved hei 
lovCi and buried her dead. 

As for Dr. Wynne, he was still under the influence of 
the telegram that told of the finding oJ" Rose. It seemed 
to give a benediction to his western tour. Even on its 
threshold he had picked up a clue which brought him 
ne^^'s of the lost one, only tweU-c months old. Who 
could say but that his vision at Orchardcroft might yet 
be fiillilled, since the journey had begun so auspiciously ? 

Old Nick's Church spire was fading in the background, 
mth the remains of the city house of the Earls of Derby, 
who used to reside on the Mersey in the days when their 
lordship of the Isle of Man was 'a living reality, and not 
a mere theme for the romancer, even though that romancer 
was Sit Walter Scott. Little thought of " Pevcril of the 
Peak" crossed their mind. They were ncaring the 
Majestic. A moment more they were by her side. 

Jack Compton was waiting for his friend, with a down- 
cast look. 

" Don't know how it is, Wynne, but can't explain it 
anyhow. This morning I could have wagered my life you 
would have sailod with ua, and, at this moment, I feel you 

must somehow. But I have just seen the clerk, and lie 
telb me they have only three ' disappoints,' and as ycu 
were sixth on the rota, it is no go, ' 

•■ You don't know me, I see, " replied Wynne, smiUng. 
" Allow me to present myself to you as ' Walter \'eriion.' 
whose cousm Miss Irene you already know. After 1 have 
seen these ladies to their berths, I will look after my own. 
a is Letter W. Everjthing is m rigU; only don't forget 
my name. Jack. ' 

In the hurry-scurry of the final scene, there was not 
much time for talk. The doctor conducted the ladies to 
their berths, found out his own, placed his portmanteau, rug, 
and topcoat in his cabin, and came out to see that saddest 
of sights when farewells are whispered, and friends look 
their last, long look into the faces of those from whom 
they are pirting, it may be for ever. 

Along the gang-plank, the double stream flows constant, 
the latest arrivals entering on the right, the friends leaving 
on the left. Alike on steamer and on tender, an inter- 
ested and sympathetic bank of spectators watched the 
busy scene. There is alw'ays an absorbing interest in any 
deep emotion. And the grief which finds utterance ou 
either end of the gang-plank is as teal and terrible as that 
on the side of the grave. For the dead are dead, they 
have passed awav into the invisible world. But the emi- 
grants were neve'r more alive. They are living, but away 
from us. It is that which seems sa hard. The Irish alone 
of ra[;es have given inarticulate hut intensely keen expres- 
sion to the anguish that gnaws in the heart of the living on 
being torn for ever from their living love. 

There was no shrill, weird keening on the side of the 
Majutic, But the wan face, the tear-stained cheeks, the 
swollen eyes of those who slowly crossed the gang-plank 
to the tender testified less loudly, but not less vividly to 
the severity of the wrench that takes place every time one 
of the graat Atlantic ferry boats puts out to sea. 

At Amsterdam Ihete is a familiar spot on tlie quay 
known as the • Wailinp; Place,' for there the mothers and 
wives of the Dutch mariners used to gather, to c.itch the 
last glimpse of the departing ships. The tender is the 
wailing place of Liverpool, and it sees more of it in a 
week than Amsterdam saw in a year. For Li\-erpool is 
the Great Gate of the Modem Exojus, and through its 
portals have passed in the last forty years over two millions 
of emigrants, most of whom ritiini no more. 

Dr. Wynne was profoundly moved at the silent misery 
of these farewells. To divert his attention from the weep- 
ing women below, he tried to read the printed list of 
passengers, freely distributed to all vvho ivcre leaving, He 
read his own name, Walter Vernon, and smiled. 

A hand was laid on his arm. He looked round. It was 
his friend Compton. The tender had blown her last warning 
whistle, the gang-plank was drawn aboard, handkerchiefs 
wore waving briskly when they were not being used to 
stop the tears ; the engines began to move, and in a few 
minutes the tender was churning its way back to the shore. 
The side of the steamer was still crowded with those who 
were straining eyes for the last sight of their friends. 
"Tis a sad sight, " said the doctor, moodily. 
Compton did not reply. He, too, was gazing after the 
tender, but it was as if seeing he saw not. The strange, 
glittering, dark eyes seemed to be fixed upon what was 
never seen on sea or shore. His nostrils dilated ; he drew 
a long breath, and then, turning to Wynne, he said,^ 

"Is it not written that a t me will come when patting 
will be no more?" 

" Oh, yes," replied the doctor : " when time itself is lost 
in eternity. Then, perhaps," 

"Xo," said Compton ; "before then. Here, in time, it 
will come. Perhaps in our time. Who knows ? " 

On Board the " Majestic." 


Chapter IV.— On Board the " Majestic." 

"I Now, cousin," said the doctor to Irene, " I have seen the 
deck steward about the chairj. He lias got yours and 
mine, and if 1 had only known I was to be your cousin, I 
would have put you up to a device that Compton explained 
to me. Compton, the professor, and I have our chairs 
enamelled bright blue. There is no mistaking them. They 
are the only blue chairs on board the ship. I. have arranged 
to have your chair added to the blue brigade, so that we 
can find each other without difficulty." 

" Are there so many of us, then ? " asked Irene. 

" About fifteen hundred altogether, not reckoning three 
hundred officers and crew," said he. "A tolerably good- 
sized village full, is it not? But only 290 of these are 
saloon passengers. I have seen the bath steward also, 
and fixed up out time for the t>ath, but as we came on 
board so late, we had to take less convenient hours tlian 
earlier passengers had secured. There ran be only so 
many bath-rooms on the ship, and wc have to take our 
turns. 1 am on the early squad, and shall have to turn in 
after I have had my tub. But, come, let us go to the dining- 
room, and settle where we have to siL" 

in barbarous Moscow, no restaurant is without its organ." 
" N'ow," said Compton, " let us make a tour of the ship. 
When we get out into the channel it may be some time 
before some of us are capable of such a journey. Pro- 
fessor, you take Miss Vernon ; and Wynne, I beg pardon, 
Vernon, come with me. It is a wonderful world, a kind of 
separate planet, with its own laws, usages and civilization." 
They went the round as everyone makes the round, 
peeping into the galley, where the cooks prepare the daily 
bread for nearly two thousand hungry mouths, visiting the 
smoking-room, the temple set apart for the soothing weed 
and the exciting " pool," looking in at tlic library', into 
which no new newspapter was to come for a week, strolling 
through the drawing-room, and then venturing into 
the steerage, where nearly a thousand men, women and 
children, more or less miserable, were crowded together. 

" My laboratory," the professor remarked, half to him- 
self, "is at least well furnished with specimens. It is 
always interesting to sample and analyse the kind of 
material with which Europe rectifies the extreme nervous 
temperament of Americans. Nerves, nerves, nerves— 
our people are running to nerves. But for this phlegmatic 
lump of Teutonism, 1 don't know what would become of 


As they went down into the magnificently furnished 
dining-room they met Compton and the professor. 

" We have fixed your seats for you," said Compton, 
" subject to your approval We have got a table for six 
close to the doctor. The captain, when he is able to be 
present, sits in the place of honour. But he is as often as 
not absent, and it is better to be near either the doctor or 
the purser. We have got a very comfortable table. We 
secured your places, and added Mrs. Invin and Mrs, Julia 
to make up the party. Let tis show you where it is, so tliat 
you will be able to know your places." 

So saying, the party made their Avay through the throng 
that was still gathered around the purser, that autocrat of 
the dining-room, who was busily engaged allotting places 
to passengers. Irene was full of admiration for the beauty 
and magnificence of the fillings. 

" It is more Uke a palace than a steamer," she remarked. 
" If only we had a band of stringed instruments to dis- 
course sweet music, it would be complete," 

" You are right," replied the professor. " Always eat 
and make love to music. It promotes the digestion, and 
facilitates the making of those whispered compliments 
which are the circulating medium of lovers. On the 
Hamburg boats and on the German Lloyd they have 
bands which play all dinner-lime. The English are 
not civilized enough to appreciate this. Yet, even 

us. They are like the spiegeleisen added to the charge 
in the Bessemer converter. Without them, our steel 
would not be tough enough to stand the strain." 

" But, professor," said Irene, '' don't you think you are 
overdoing your spiegeleisen, or whatever you call it? 
Just look at these creatures 1 " 

She pointed to a shock-headed family of Russian Jews, 
crouching together "on their hunkers," and jabbering 
Yiddish entirely oblivious of the passer-by. 

" Good stock, that," said the professor, " good, tough, 
malleable metal ; wish we had more of them. Sober, 
industrious men, virtuous women, children beautiful as the 
offspring of the gods. Give them a little soap, and thcjr 
will ruin our Republic, After being pounded in the Tzar't 
mortar for a thousand years they are as tough az the har- 
poons which are made out ol cast horse-shoe nails." 

"A pleasant prospect for your Republic," said Irene. 
" Before fifty years arc gone, Pharaoh will be canonised 
as W'ashington." 

"Then it will be the Pharaoh who made Joseph his Grand 
V'izier, not the Pharaoh of the E%odiis. But, see, we are 
nearly on the bar ; let us regain the saloon. Dinner will 
soon be served." 

There was a goodly company at dinner that day 
They were still in the river, and the motion of the great 
ship was hardly perceptible. 

From the Old World to the New. 

" What luxury,' said the doctor, as he glanced over the 
menu, with ttii soups, and fish, and entrees, and joints, 
and poultry, and sweets, and pastry, finishing up witli 
ample dessert and caft noire. 

" Not unnecessar)'." said the professor, " when there is 
nothing to do for a week, but eat and drink and be sick. 
These steamers are the Halls of Idleness of our time." 

"And Satan 6nds some mischief stilt for idle hands to 
do, I guess," said the merry voice of Mrs. Irwin, who 
was seated on the doctor's tight hand. '■ For hatred, 
malice, and at] uncharitablencss— for drinking, f.irting, 
gambling, and all manner of minor vices, commend me to 
the saloon of a first-clais Atlantic liner." 


The speaker was a hearty Irish lady, who iras no 

stranger to the ocean ferry, whose general geniality and 
good, humour had caused Compton to add her at once with 
general consent to the Blue Brigade, as the party was 
now dubbed. 

Conversation turned upon the tardcrs of the Majestic 
A wteWs prcn-isions for two thousand persons is no small 
Item in the ship's account. 

"We have a ton and a half of mutton onboard, and 
about five tons of beef." said Mrs. Irwin, cheerfully "a 
ton of corned beef, and another ton of salt pork but that 
of couree, is for the steerage. As for the wine and spirits* 
I should say, wc shall drink enough to make the fortune 
of the best hotel at Liverpool. Here we can cut and 
come again all day long,' she continued; "breakfast 
between eight and ten ; lunch at one, dinner at seven 
and as many snacks in between, and nothing to nav 
for anything except liquor. Its a capital place loVa 
hungry man, " f f "^ a 

" If he is not sick, madam," said a somewhat lugu- 
bnmis-looking clone on the opposite side of the table 
K. rT-IV' , Compton, sharply, "that word should never 
be mentioned at dinner-time, lilk of the deril, and he's 
sure to appear. MaMe-mer is .;u affair of the' in^agina 
on. I knew a lady who, when she was going to Frlnce 
Newrt'fi!^ sickwhen she left the Centr^ Station li 

.H^-^'-fi'""'' «'"^^"^'^t." said tiie professor, mentally 
adding the crsse to iiis list of illuatrationa "^n'^riy 

" How long do you expect we shall be on the trip ? " 

asked Irene. 

'Seven or eight days,' replied Compton. "The talk 
about five days' trip is very delusive. The ship in which 
we are broke the record in 1 891, by covering the waterway 
from Roche's Point to Sandyhook lightship in five days, 
eighteen hours, and eighteen minutes; but then you have 
to add on to .that the twelve hours' run to Qucenstown, 
and, at least, tivo hours from -Sandyhook to the wharf at 
New York. If we are out of the ship in a clear week 
from the lime we got on board we shall do very well." 

" I suppose there is practically no danger,'' said Mrs, 
Julia, " of anything happening?'' 

" Danger, ' said the professor, "of course there is dan. 
gcr. Danger is the inspiration of life. We are encom. 
passed by danger. There is, first and worst, the danger 
trom fog, against which science has hitherto utterly failed 
to provide any remedy. Tiien there is the danger from 
icebergs, into which many a good steamer has crashed, and 
never been beard of more. Then there is tlie danger from 
fire, with its pleasant alternative of cremation or drown- 
ing. Finally, there is the danger of collision. These four 
dangers give spice to our journey." 

" You have not referred to the danger from stormst" 
said Mrs, Julia. 

" Storms r' said the professor, disdainfully; "storms 
are no danger. There never was a storm brewed in 
heaven or earth that could wreck the Majestic, if she had 
tea room enough and no fog. i\o, madam, the wind and 
the wave have Ijeeu vanquished." 

"And now lor all your other perils," said Compton. 

Measure them by this fact that, in 1890, two thousand 

voj-agea were made between New York and the other side 

J f ''^""'"'^' 30O.0O0 cabin passengers were ferried to 
and fro ; 370,0:0 emigrants were landed at Castle Garden. 
without a single accident." 

'• But, surely." said Irene, "even Ajlantic liners do iret 
lost sometimes. " 

"Often," said the professor, who aflenvards explained 
tliat he was trying an interesting experiment as lo the 
effect of fear upon the appetite. '■ In the first forty years 
of the steam fern-, 144 steamers were lost between the 
American and European seaboard; twenty-lVmr of these, 
like the Ctty tff Glasgow, vanished ulteriy; no one knOTra 
where, in [854. leaving no trace behind to tell what had 
become of her 480 passengers. Otiiers were burnt in mid- 
oc«in. hke the Austna in 1S5S, which cost 471 lives. 
Others, again, went do«-n in a collision, like the ArcHc 
in I6S4, ulien 562 human beings perished. Whv the 
ocean bed beneath the rn„ of the liners is .trew-n with 
the whitening bones of thousands ^vho have taken their 

SeSLn^' "'* '^'"'*^' **"' *'"* ^^^'^ ^*''' "'^" 

tha^inShf^'? **"!, ^'^''!' "y°«a'« safer on mid-Atlantic 

than m the Strand. Not an Insurance Company raises its 

prernium by a quarter per cent, because you are going to 

*ome^*^fetyl??hrtri^"^' >>- a b^.ter proof th^an fhat 

" But the immense speed at which we go-is not that a 

peat increase of danger ? " asked the clergfman " Imarine 

his enormous lev.atHan of nearly lo,o<J^%ou3 dri™ by 

ts double screws and 18,000 ilorse-po^ve^ at the rate of 

a den^efoT'""''' '" '""' *'"°"*'' '"'" crowded it. t 

dnrino 'I f^a Compton. " no ship is ever driven at full speed 

diiring a fog. And when the sky is clear there is not a 

captam on the senice who will not tel 'ou tharthe 

quicker your ship the safer your voyage. When a? h Kh 

speed, she manoeuvres more easily, soal to avoid a dangS 

and =^ by i!l-luck, she should run into anything, she ^v-m r^r^ 



On Board the " Majestic. 


through it with such momentum tliat it irill do her as little 
harm as Stephenson's cow did to the locomotive." 

■' How many steamers are plying on the ocean ferry 7 " 
asked Irene. 

"There are tvventy-tiine regular hnes of steamships," 
rephed Compton, " plying between New York and Kurope. 
Six of these, liowevcr, do not carry passengers, and only 
eight run express passenger boats. The Americans say 
that the value of the steamers cleared annually from New 
York is about ^100,000,000. It easily mounts up when 
you consider that this ship alone costs ^400,000." 

" I wonder what Coiumbus would have thought," said 
Mrs. Julia, meditatively, " if after he had pleaded in vain 
for a lew thousands from Henry tin; Seventh, to fit out his 
little expedition, he could have foreseen that we should 
have been crossing the Atlantic to celebrate his triumph 
in a vessel which cost ten times as much as he wanted to 
equip his entire ilect." 

"1 regard Columbus," said the professor, "as the 

supreme criminal ' 

" Professor ! " said Compton, rising, " we will postpone 
your licws about Columbus till anotiier day. The ladies 
would probably like to go on deck, and take their last look 
at the English, or, rather, the Welsh coast," 

They «ent on deck. It was a lovely evening. The 
sea was as placid as a lake. The sun u as still far above 
the horizon. On cither side of the great ship, the sea 
was flecked with vessels of every size and rig. Coaling 
steamers were trailing along, and, at some distance nfl; 
an Atlantic liner was tearing northward towards the Mersey, 
Holyhead Lightliouse was left far behind. The majestic 
summit of Snowdon, radiant with the light of the western 
su.i, rose before them, and then that too was left far away 

The ladies sought their berths. The professor betook him- 
self to the smoking room to hunt for tpecimeii'-, Compton 
and the doctor remained at last alone, pacing the deck, as 
the sun went down and the evening star shone out in a 
cloudless sky. 

" What a strange exhilaration I always feel." Faii! !1 e 
doctor, "when I ;im at sea. It is only then I think 1 : ■ 
really feels what it is to belong to the nation that is Sovti- 
reign of the Seas. In my own f mall way I feel what I 
suppose every Englishman with any imagination must 
feel, that he is a kind of miniature edition of the Lord 
High Admiral, and that even if he is too sick to come 
doivn to dinner, he helps to wield the trident of Bri- 

" Yes," rejoined Compton, " it is a glorious heritage. But 
half our people know nothing about it, and the other half 
think it is not worth while to teach them. For a nation 
whose daily bread depends upon their stiprcmacy on the 
sea, we display the most astonishing indifference to the 
very foundations of our greatness. It is only within the 
last eight years that a proposal to cut down the Navy was 
the favourite nostrum of the Liberal party, and even to-day 
what was perhaps the most sanely Imperial Ministry of 
recent times sent Nelson's flagship to the German ship- 
knacker to be sold for firewcod and old iron. What a 
race it is! Was there evsr a people who did so much 
upon so small a stock of imagination ?" 

'• I think you do our people wrong," said the doctor, 
" Our imagination is latent. We are an inarticulate race. 
But vve think more than we speak, and, who knows ? I 
am daring enough to imagine I hat even Mr. Gladstone, 
deep down in his heart of hearts, sometimes thinks of the 
Navy v^'ith honest pride. He dissembles it, no doubt. 
But no one who travels can fail to feel something of a lift 
of heart when he sails across the seas, and everywhere 
and always finds the Biitish (lag to the fore." 

" Btit the majority of our people don't Iravel," replied 
Compton, " and you need to go some hundred miles dis- 
tance from London to begin to understand how vast Eng- 
land looms before the imagination of mankind. I otten 
wish the moment Parliament rises in the autumn we could 
pack all our M.P.s on board a, trooper, and send them on a 
cruise around the world. It would broaden their \-icwa, 
and we should perhaps have fewer pedlars posing as 
statesmen when Parliament re-assembled in the spring." 

Night was now falling, and as Ihcy wished to see the 
mails taken on board at Queenstown, the friends turned 
in and slept 

, Early next morning they were roused by the cessation 
of the rhythmic movement of the engines. They were off 
Queenstown. The tender was steaming out from the har- 
bour with the mail-bags, and those who wished were 
allowed to go on shore. 

It was a lovely June morning, with one of those sunrises 
which make us envy the policemen "on night duty,' who 
almost alone of modern citizens see the sun rise in sum- 
mer time. The Irish coast stood revealed in all its wealth 
of varied beauty. The green hills in the distance, the 
spacious harbour, the emerald fields, tire indented sliore, 


made a picture of such loveliness as almost to suggest 
that, to iiold tire balance even. Nature was compelled to 
compensate the land for its loveliness by the squalid horror 
of its intestine feuds. 

The professor was the first to land, and was eagerly 
assailed by the innumerable hucksters who, week-day and 
Sunday, do a thriving business with the passengers on the 
Atlantic ferry. He bought what he was assured was a 
typical Irish shillalegh, a hideous abortion of a pipe stalk, 
with a knob at the end. big enough to be rrtterly useless at 
Donnybrook Fair. Compton and the doctor purchased a few 
trifling souvenirs for the ladies, and Compton carefully 
secured copies of the Irish papers of the previous day. 
They heard the Irish brogue, visited tire traditional apple- 
woman, and then, as the bell was sounding, they rejoined 
the Majestic, 

The tender pushed ofl from the side of the great liner, 
the twin screws began to revolve, and once more the Queen 
of the Atlantic entered for her race against time to the 
New World. When they passed the Fast net Rock, and 
saiv the hills of Krin fade away in the distance, they felt 
as if they bad cut the painter which boirnd them to the 
Old World. 

When the party re-assembled at breakfast Mrs. Irwin 
was in high spirits, chiefly, it would seem, because she had 


From the Old World to the New. 

just seen the last outline of her " native land fade o'er the 
wattis blue.' 

" Ireland/ said she, " is the lowiL'est country iu the 
whole world— to get au-ay from. It is really pretty enough 
to hve in, but it is n mighty deal prettier to be out of When 
you remember Erin in the watches of the night, she is even 

A KA.\IILIAR 1 i,.L la: at ulelxstovv-k. 

S^wVa? TherJ''' ™^'^"^l'°.'^-' than to live in her 
oay Dy daj. There is something in the air, 1 ihink bi.t I 
know I m never m such high spirits a» wh.-n IVe left t i 

plane, somehow Itishmpn in iV»i T ^- ,-°" ''^•^ ^^rth 

spirits, impriso^'ed ?n unrVna f' "^ T- ''^'= ^^^"^bouiid 


spirits from a higher SDher..r^ri.„ i • \ ^^^ ^" '^^ "^ 

chiefly of pratief In,P ine ?™ra.h '"ffi ^'^^'^"'"P"""'*^^ 
and she laughed hp^rTM. t. . P" coffined ni a ponto ! •■ 

»e,SLT?h';SodZVrr/.ra"tootr'f "^'^ *-'- 
a venerable ancient who hL a mr.nt,'^ ^'■"'' *'"^^*= ^'<'*^F«' 
to match.- "^ ^ monstrous nose with a snore 

;;]^l'at an infliction !" said Irene 
sign dr/^'^uLtth ^fi"'".'^, *" *''"=^='l *''« doctor. ^- 

and the syren bloKiard 7l ,.!• ^ -^"^ '^'"i"K 
t^impet of the Angel Jsrafil Ind ?'-'' "'"^'' ^^'^^ "'«« t^e 

"Snoring," said the professor, " is one of the last afflir. 
tions of humanity to be abated by science. But it can be 
done, although \vc have not got our data complete. 1 want a 
good specimen. I am interested on this account. Would 
you change bertha with me? I have got a cunning little 
instrument which registers sound. It is an adaptation of 
the phonograph, and, with a little improvement, 1 imess 
It would stop the snoring of the seven sleepers " 

•■ With pleasure," replied the doctor, "if your companion 
does not object. '^ 

" .My dear professor," said Compton, "sacrifice me to the 
interest of science any time. Besides, the man who 
abolishes the snure will be canonised, not by the Vatican 
but by universal humanity." ' 

•■1 see you take ' Georgia Water ' at all your meals," 
said Irene. " The sea seems as calm as a lake, and the 
stewards have nothing to do.'' 

'■} ust now." s.iid Compton, " I looked at the glass It is 
fatlmg, and I should not be surprised if we have a bit of 
ugly weather before" 

"Glasses^ round, then," said the doctor. "And if 
.Georgra Water cirries us through the storm without a 
stevyard, you must get your sociil organism, my dear 
prolessor, to ni..kc its use compulsory on alt liners " 

■ Dear me, said Mrs. Juli.i sudd, nly, as a ladv with her 
two boys rose from the nliddle tabe, a^,;d went out 'wta 
an angcUace I It qiute startled n.e as the child passed •■ 
\es, said Irene; "but ! liked the elder boy best 

«Ji ■ I. "^'^."■''fk-a-day world. Angels are all very 
well in heaven, but here they u'ould be insipid " ' 


uk;?o"kS:;L;^'"'^'""'^'^'''^'"j"''^- "i»^<'»i'» 

are rhi^THr^t" "^'1^?^" f '"^^'^ acquaintances where there 

know Sfem kir '' *"=''"^"''- "^^'°"= '"-»' 3'- «haU 

He ^vaa as good as his word. The Blue Brigade had 





got their chairs comfortablv eslabhshed on deck under the 
awning that shielded them from the rays of the sun. When 
the two children came past, something tickled the younger 
one in the appearance of the blue chairs. He spoke to 
ms brother, and laughed. Before they could pass, the 
aoctnr said, ^ — 

" Where is your mother, litt!e man ? " 

On Board the " Majestic." 




•' She is in the 
drawing • room," 
he replied, the 
younger Icoking 
at his questioner 
straight in the 
face with his 
black - fringed 
blue eyes. " Do 
you want hei" '" " 
"Oh,dear, no," 
said the doctor, 
'■ I only won- 
dered how you 
came to be 
wandering about 
all alone. ' 

head's had, and 
she wanted to 
rest £0 she 
said we might 
trot around and 
sL-e things, and 
come bark to her 
when we were 

" But," said 
the doctor, ''it is 
pleasanter here than in the drawing-room. Why does not 
your mother bring her chair, and see the sunlight on the 
water ?" 

" Mother has not a chair,* said the elder boy. " Has 
everyone to get a chair ? She thouglit they supplied them 
on hoard ship." j 

" No, each passenger must bring his own. But if your 
mother likes, she may have the use of ours. We have 
usually at least one empty in our little colony of the 
blue chairs.'' 

The boys looked at him, not knowing how their mother 
would take it. Presently the younger said, — 
"Where are you going to ? " 

" We are going to Chicago, my little man, and where 
aie you bound lor? ' 

" We are going to San Francisco to meet father. He 
is comiivg from China, We have not seec him for nearly 
three years." 

" And what is your father ? ' 
" He is a missionary, ' replied the child. 
" And so you are going round the ship," said the doctor. 
" Perhaps you might let me go with you. I could tell yoti 
about things." 

They took his offered hands and they set off on an 
e.xploring expedition. They peeped down the engine- 
room, where they cmvld not enter, [and saw the great 
greasy steel slave clanking as he turned the screw, labour- 
ing vvith hot and steaming breath as he drove the mighty 
ship through the Atlantic, He showed them how there 
were double sets of engines and boilers, each with its 
own screw, so that, if one broke or went wrong, the 
ship could still forge ahead through t'-.e sea. 

"How fast are we going now?" asked the younger, 
whose name was Fred. 

" About twenty-three miles an hour, a mile and a bit in 
every three minutes. You know twenty sea miles equal 
twenty-three land miles. They are strong felloxvs, these 
steam slaves of the engine-room. They are like the genii 
in the ' Arabian Nights,' cooped up by a magician in a hot 
and grimy ceil, and compelled to ferry us all over the sea. 

They never rest all the voyage, night and day, day and 
night, they keep on. never restijig, storm or caim. Thtra 
is the might of 18,000 horses stowed up in their mighty 

" But where does all the power come from ? " asked 
Tom, the elder boy. 

"Can you see down there, far, far away down belj>v 
the engines, right at the bottom of the ship, there is 
just a little glare of light? They will not let us go down, 
nor would you care to, even if they allowed you. It is 
hot, and dark, and dirty. But the power they get there 
comes from the sun. Ages and ages ago great forests 
grew in the sunlight, and in their leaves the sun manufac- 
tured wood, just as he is manufacturing it now. Then 
great changes came, and the wood was turned into coal. 
Deep down in the stoke-hole there are men always busy 
throwing coal— which is only bottled-up sunsliine^into 
the furnaces, where it burns, and giving off the stored-up 
sun-heat, it boils the water in the boiler, making it 
into steam, the steam makes the piston move, the piston- 
rod turns the screw-shaft, and the screw-shaft drives the 
ship through the water. It is just like the old nursery 
story about the woman whose pig would not go over the 
stile. The moment one thing worked everything fol- 
lowed. Here it was the sun who began at the beginning 
of all, but in the ship it is the stoker who begins. If he 
did not constantly shovel coal into the furnaces we should 
never get to America. We have more than one hundred 
stokers on board constantly at work," 

'' Does it take much coal ? " asked Tom, 

"In order to get the power of one horse for a couple 
of hours we have to burn three lbs. of coal. It i«ed 
to be much more. At first it tcok just six times as much 
coal. But they improve the engines and the boilers 
year after year. There is an arithmetic lesson for 
you. We are now using 18,000 borse-pow'cr. It takes 
36 lbs, every 24 hours to get the power of one horse. 
How mttch coal do we burn every day ? " 

" I don't hke sums, ' said Tom. " Tell us how much it is.' 

" Every day, " 
said the doctor, 
"there is 
shovelled into 
the furnaces 290 
tons of coal. In 
six days' voyage 
we shall burn 
1.740 tons. We 
always take 
2 , 400 to be 
safe. ' 

"Then the 
ship is getting 
lighter every 
day," said Fred. 

"Certainly, 290 
tons lighter. But 
it is not only 
for driving the 
ship we use the 
coal. We steer 
the ship, and 
pump the ship, 
and light the 
ship, all w,,'i the 
coal we carry in 
the hold, and 
which has all to 
be dug out of 



From the Old World to the New 

the mine deep down in the earth. With plenty of 
bottled sunlight in the bunkers, we don't mind about the 

«'ind. ' , 

• If we had to row the ship across the aea, how many 
oars would be needed ? ' asked Fred. 

"To get the same sjieed," said the doctor, "we shautd 
need Ralley slaves rowing all day and 1 00,000 
ro\riBg »il night. The men would weigh just about as 
much as the coal, but then they would need to be fed and 
lodged, and there would be no room for them or for their 
oars. You could not get more than 400 oars on each side 
a ship tike this." 

" 1 want to ask you something," said Fred. 

" Well, my boy, what is it ? ' 

" Is this ship— the one we are in now — as big as Noah 'a 

"Well, now," said the doctor, trying to gain time, "I 
ivasn t there, you know." 

"No." said Fred, "you are not Noah, cor Sliem, nor 
Ham, nor Japheth, and there were no other men on board. 
But you know the Bible says it was 300 cubits long 
by ;o broad, and 30 cubits high. How loDg is the 
steamer? " 

■' It is 582 feet long, 57! feet broad, anrt 59 feet high, 
from the keel to the deck. It is much narrower and taller 
in proportion tlian the Ark, which ivas only meant to 
float, not to drive headlong through the sea." 

•' How much is a cubit ? " asked Tom. 

" No one knows. Some say one and a half feet. If fo 
the Aik was nearly 100 feet shorter than the MajestU, 
eighteen feet broader, and fourteen feet lower." 

■■If the ship caught fire, should we a)l be burnt alive ? 
asked the jovinger boy. 

" No." said the doctor. " If the ship caught lire, the fin' 
ivould be put out. If the captain were only to ring that 
bell hard for three minutes, every man of the crew would 
be at work deluging the (ire ivith water piunped in by all 
manner of engines, and directed upon the flames by preat 
lengths of hose. Before you came on board they hail a 
fire-drill on deck, and all were ready for action in three 

" If a storm came, and the wind was very high, should 
we not be drowned ?'■ 

" .\'ot a bit. You would not have to come on deck, that 
is all. But you would be as safe as a chick." 

"But.'' persisted the little questioner, "if a great huge 
wave were to dash right on to the deck, we should go to 
the bottom, shouldn't we ? " 

'■ Nothing of the kind, the wave would simply dash over 
the deck, taking some things away with it as keepsakes, 
but the wave ne\'cr rose that could' sink the Majestic. And 
now as the lunch-bell is sounding, let me take you to your 

Mrs. W'ills w-as on the deck looking for the boys when 
they ran up to tell her of the doctor's offer. He now came 
for^^•ard, and repeated it, saying htnv deUghted he should 
be if he could be of any ser\-ice. 

" I h«ve found your boys most entertaining companions," 
he said ; '■ and it will Ije a trivial acknowledgment of your 
kindness in letting me have your lads to ask you to occupy 
my chair.'* 

Mrs. Wills, with a sweet and w insome smile, accepted the 
offer, and she also, with her boys, was formally enrolled in 
the Blue Brigade. 


Chapter V.— A Gale at Sea. 

f I CALCULATE,'' said t",ie professor, " that the psychological 
moment is near at hand.' He had just finished lunch, and 
looked somewhat ruefully upon the remains t>f the feasL 
'.'We're going to have it rather rough. At dinner we shall 
need the fiddles on the table, but, alas! few ivill be there 
to see either table or fiddle. " 

" Cheer up, professor,'' said Compton. " Never meet 
trouble half-way. It may blow over," 

"That's just what it will do, my friend. It will blow 
o^-er, and no mistake. Some of you trust in ' Georgia 
Water,' and some in .Mattel's anti-mal-de-mer, but as for 
me, I reckon thit as regards two-thirds of this company 
there will be at least two full daj'S before we meet 

So s.tytng, he solemnly stalked off to his iKtth, Before 
turning in, he cast a searching Uok round the horizon. 
The sky was clear save where some heavy clouds were 
banked far in the south-east. There was no wind, but 
the glass was falling fast, and his experienced eye '. a <t 
several indications i.'iat ciptain and crew, an 1 
especially the stew^ard, were preparing for a bout of rougti 

On the deck ladies and gentlemen, fresh from the lunch 


t.ible. were chaltitrg or smoking, enjoying the bright sun- 
shine, and congratulating themselves upon the halcyon 
calm of the sea. Some of the young ladies had donned 
their smart dresses, and were preening themselves in the 

The professor could not repress a sardonic smile. " In 
two hours," he thought; "but now, unmindful of their 
coming doom, the little victims play." Then a certain 
sinking sensation in the lower portions of the diaphragm, 
and a curious familiar movement of some of the muscles 
of the throat, warned him that he had no leisure for 
philosophiiring. He crawled wretchedly to his new berth ; 
summoned the steward, and was soon too much absorbed 
in his own wretchedness to spare a thought even for the 
most abnormal of criminal types. 

The doctor bestirred himself to prepare his friends for 
the approaching change. Mrs, Wills was his first care. 
" She was never sick,' she said. •■ She simietimes wished 
she wa.s. A certain hea\-)' headachj' feeling u'eighed her 
down all the time '^he was on the sea. As lor the boys, 
they were never ill, and she hoped that Baby would not 

A Gale at Sea. 



•' Baby 1 " said the doctor ; " I did not know you had a 
baby viith you." 

■' Oh, yes," she s»i<t " We call her Baby, but slie is 
tliree years old. It is her first sea voyage, and I did not 
bring her mto the drawing-room. She is so young. But 
if you will come into my cabin, you will see her Cor your- 

Dr. Wynne was, of course, delighted to come, A baby 
on t)oard ship is something lilce a primrose on an iceberg. 
Any ordinariiy well-behaved baby is safe to have a better 
chance of being spoiled on board ship than any it would 
ever encounter on land. In the steerage babies are 
somewhat at a discount. In the saloon they are at a 

"Where is my little girl?" said Mrs. Wilis, as she 
opened the cabin door. 

"Mamma's got no little girl," replied a childish but 
reaohite voice. 
•Ts a big girl 
noiv, and not 
mother's ' hitle ' 
girl any more.' 

" Well, big 
girl, won't you 
shake hands 
with me ? '' said 
the doctor. 

The child hid 
her face in her 
mother's dress, 
and did not 
speak. She was 
a sturdy little 
monkey, prettily 
but plainly 
dressoii, and in 
her blue ey( > 
lurkod a roguisl: 

She w a .s 
clutching a doii. 

''Come, Pearl, 
won't you speak 
to the gentle- 
man ? " 

"No," said the 
child. '■ I can't. teabl. 

Kitty's asleep, and we mustn't wake her." 

"WeU,''8aid the doctor, "it is no use trying to force 
myself upon the young lady ; perhaps, she may be more 
wilhng to see me next time. You had better prepare for 
being a close prisoner with your little one for the next 
day or two. There is a storm brewing in the south-east, 
and, before dinner, you will be glad to be safe and snug in 
your berth." 

"Do you think there is any danger?'' she asked, 

"Danger! Not the least in the world. Discomfort? yes, 
especially for a lady with three children ivho are making 
iheir first voyage I will see the boys, and lelt them what 
to do. Meanwiiile, let me help you to make tight all the 
loose packages you iiave got in the cabin When the ship 
rolls, they arc apt to pitch about in a fashion as annoying 
to you as it is destructive to themseh-es." 

" Thank you very much, doctor," said Mrs. Wills, when 
he had finished stowing portmanteaus and toys safely 
under the berths; and even little Pearl held up her chubby 
mouth to " kiss the nice gentleman Good-bye." 

As Dr. Wynne left the cabin, a curious new instinct 
seemed suddenly to unfold itself in him. He had felt it 

before in a dim sort of way, but, row, he was fully con- 
scious of it. He felt a hungry craving longing, not so much 
for the love of a woman as for the love, the clinging, con- 
fiding love ot little children. How he envied Mrs. Wills 
her baby 1 

But there were the two boys to hunt for, and to pre- 
pare for the compulsory confinement that awaited 
them. They were leaning over the railings, looking 
down at a sedate old goat which was walking about in the 

"Here, boys,'' said the doctor. "Do you see those 
clouds ? Id half an hour the rain will be upon us, and you 
had Ijctter not stray too far from your berth, or you will 
have some difficulty in getting back." 

The approach of the storm was no»v bcRinning to be too 
manifest to be mistaken. The deck steward was piling 
up the chairs, all movables were cleared away from the 
deck, and passengers were scurrying off to their berths. 

A puff of wind came sighing past, the surface of the sea 
became fretful, the sky was almost entirely overcast, and 
the wind, no longer in fitful gusts, freshened steadily into 
a gale. The boys were escorted to their cabin ; most of 
the ladies were in their berths. In the drawing-room a few 
old sailors composed themselves for a tranquil afternoon. 
There was room enough. 

The wind roared and shrieked through the rigging, the 
waves ran higher and higher, now and again flinging a 
handful of spray in watery miiraille along the deck. In 
the steerage and in the cabins the stewards were busy. 
At dinner, .a mere handful sat down to table. After dinner, 
only half-a-dozen seasoned salts were found in the smok- 
ing room, and soon after nine, every passenger was in 
his berth, seeking sleep, but, for the most part, finding 

It was a rough night, but not exceptionally bad. To those 
who were making their first Atlantic voyage, the waves 
Kfemcd mountainous, and eacli time the Alajeslic plunged 
I lown the slope of the billows, it seemed as if she was 
steaming straight down — down to the abyss. But the next 
moment, she was climbing up the side of another wave, 
inily to )j|unge down again, until it seemed as if the un- 
i-qual contest of the whole roused ocean, in its fight 
asaiust the cockle-shell of a ship must end in the inevit- 
able catastrophe. But to the captain and his men there 
was nothing in it. A fresh night, with plenty of sea on, 
but nothing that gave them even a moment's anxiety. 

The engines never for a moment slackened their toil. 
Come storm or calm, the gaping mouths of the furnaces 
must be fed, the engines must be oiled, and every minute 
detail of duly scrupulously performed. 

In their cabin Compton and the doctor were talking 

"Is it not glorious," said the doctor, "this uTestle, as of 
the Bods of Asgard with the giants of Jotunheim. Outside, 
a boiling waste of waters, n whole ocean, scourged by the 
winds into the wildest fury, all around the darkness of the 
night, wave after wave surging up as if to overwhelm us, 
and yet, and yet . . . Listen to the rattle and roar of those 
engines, as with heart of fire and muscles of steel they 
steadily tear their tranquil way to their destined port." 

"It is a great triumph of the combination of forces," 
said Compton, " of the might of the scientific brain when in 
command of the ready oliedicnce of a disciplined cre'iv. 
Yet it is not an ideal system, that which prevails on these 
liners. From an extreme democratic point of new, it is 
the quintessence of tjTanny. From a humanitarian or 
philanthropic standpoint, it is in many respects deplorable. 
On board these boats wc ha\'e the cash ne.vus betv^'een 
man and man in its coarse form. Fraternity, comrade- 
ship, has hardly recognition. The crew are engaged for 

From the Old World to the New. 





the trip only ; and although many of them are always re- 
ME^gid at the end of the voyage, they are of'e°, «<" » 
company so much as a crowd. It is a hard, hard hfe aa 
LieutenaDt Kelly says, ■ and as for kindness, or any other 
taving cracc, in (he piin pessimism of this iron trade they 
arc never expected.' But grace or no grace, the liners fceep 

their lime." „ . .. 

'• The kindly graces have not tune to flower m a weeK 9 
engagement," said the doctor, "but the manlier rirtiies— 
courage, endurance, discipline, the power to command, 
the grace to obey, in other words, duty in every shape and 
form— where wi'U you find it in higher development, or 
tested under se«rer strain ? From the captain on the 
bridge down to the grimy stoker who slaves like a naked 
gnome at the furnace fires, is there one who ever flinches ? 
How the ship labours en these seas ! I am glad duty does 
not call me lo tumlle out of my berth, don tarpaulin, and 
face the blinding rain and the bitter blast. All the inore 
do I respect and honour the brave fellows on the night 

•• No doubt," said Compton, " But take them singly, they 
are not the elect of mankind. Pool the whole of their 
brains, and if they were alone in the world they could no 
more pciform Iheir task than they could fly to the moon. 
They are the heirs of successive generations of builders 
and mariners ; they have tlic whole science of the world 10 
draw upon, and so the thing is done. Some day, perhaps, 
we shall sec in politics the same concentration and conse- 
cration tSat we fee in navigation, Bui the common serise 
and science that are recognised as indispensable to drive 
a liner across the ocean are considered as quite unneces- 
sary when the ship of State is to be sleertd across the 
vast, unsurveyed expanse of the future. " 

There was a pause. They listened lo the reverbera- 
tions of the screw, which seemed to vary with every pitch 
of the i-essc!, and sometimes, as the waves heated the 
stem clear of the water, and the screw revoked in the 
air, its racing was unpleasant to hear. 

" How she plunges, ' said the doctor, as the good ship 
pitched and strained and forgfd her way ahead. "What 
a comment this is upon the crocking of the pessimists upon 
the bad work, the scamped wcrlt of the modern artiticer. 
Whenever in ancient or modem times did the handicrafts- 
men confront nature in her wildest moods, and challenge 
the giants of Jotunheim to discover a flaw in their handi- 
work ? \\'ere but a rivet loose, or a plate honeycombed, 
or any dishonest trick played from stem to stern, such a 
gale as this would find it out. But after a hundred storms 
tire work of the workman stands the test.'" 

Tliere was another pause. From the next cabin came 
the familiar, but unmistakable, sound that tells that the 
world and all things tliat ar..- therein have faded into insig- 
nificance, and the only tangible reality is the steward and 
his basin. 

" I wonder, sometimes," said the doctor, " whether, as a 
mere torture chamber, the Inquisition could be compared 
at its tvorst with an Atlantic liner at its best. Think for a 
moment what is going on around us. Here in this great 
vessel there arc packed almost as tiglitly as the L^rvEc of 
wasps in their nests some 1,500 human beings, of whom 
1,000 at this moment wovild probably be grateful beyond 
vvords if you could rid them of existence. Lite is sweet 
to all men, they say, but to those who are sea-sick. It is 
the one malady which overcomes the instinctive longing to 
persist in living.* Not even in toothache do sutTcrers wish 
to die. But ask the stewards how many of the sea-sick 
beg to be thrown overboard. And what good is it all? To 
what purpose this needless agony ? " 

" ^"!"^^ r *^''* Compton. •' It is odd for an Englishman 
to talk hke that. \^ hy, sea-sickness is one of the best gilts 

the gods ever gave us. When I heard someone declnrii.g 
that Georgia Water was an infallible preventive for sea- 
sickness, I mentally resolved that it would be cheap at a 
million sterling to poison that Georgian Well. What is 
sea-sickness but the invisible warder of the English seas. 
the potent enchanter who tortures by bis magic arts all 
who would approach our sea-girt isle ? Why this sea- 
sickness which you so iguorantly abuse is worth, as a 
mere shield of defence, a whole armada of ironclads. 
Even the Spanish Armada itself was cowed by snal-de- 
fner before it ever came within cannon-shct of the puny 
pinnaces and fireships of the Elizabethan worthies. 
Tom Hood's question ' Why, if Britannia ruled the seas, 
she did not rule tliem straight?' is easily answered. If 
she did— if these stormy seas vvere as smooth as a mill- 
pond, the trident would more eas'ly be wrested 
from lier grasp, and England might have been the mete 
appendage of some Continental power. Who can say how 
much of cur national independence and our empire we 
owe to the inetitable horror which sea-aickness excites in 
the Continental mind ? " 

" It may be so," said the doctor, "but I think it gene- 
rates more misery to the square inch than any other 
agency in all the diabolical enginery of nature." 

"^nd yet," retorted Compton. "it produces this an- 
equalied effect upon the imagination by a minimum of injury 
to human life. Since the Maid of Norway, in Edward the 
VI.'s lime, how many have died of sea-sickness? Bti^ 
come, let us take a turn on deck before we turn in," 

When they went on deck they were saluted by a heavy 
plash of water from a wave which, striking the ship as it 
passed, flung disdainfully a's handful of brine acroas 
the deck. Soaked and chilled, as by a sudden plunge 
bath, they struggled forward, keeping their feet with diffi- 
culty aa the vessel pitched and lurched. The sky was 
dark with driving clouds, through gaps in which gleamed, 
here and there, a lonely star. All around, the waves were 
runnirg mountains high. One moment, on the crest of a 
wave, they caught a glimpse far away in the sky-line of 
the lights of a steamer ; then down, down they went, till 
the wave behind and the wave before shut out everything 
from their ga;:e. Up again, they saw the signal rockets that 
told the captain what steamer they were passing, to whidi 
they responded, the hissing rockets with their fiery tails 
shining bright against the murky darkness. They stood 
watching the turmoil 

" It is always agreeable," saii Compton, " to contemplate 
chaos from a firm foothold on ever so small a fragment of 
cosmos. It gives one a pleasant sense of superiority." 

" Everything goes like a clock," remarked the doctor, as 
a fresh watch came on. " It is cosmos ; no doubt, the 
heart beats steady and the pulse is regular, but the stomach 
of cosmos is very much out ol order, I fear," 

As the gale seemed increasing rather than abating in its 
fury, the two friends groped their way down below, and 
were soon asleep. 

There were not many who slept, except from sheer 
exhaustion, in a kind of deadly lethargy. But among ihose 
who slept soundly and awoke fftish as a lark was httlc 
Pearl She was in high glee with the motion of the ship. 
At first she had been a little fiightened, but finding that 
no one seemed to think anything of it, she had concluded 
that it was a great stsing-swang invented for her own 
amusement, and enjoyed it immensely. 

"A swing, mamma, Pearls swing; it will put all the 
dollies to sleep." 

Once, when she Iiad her first experience of a thunder- 
storm, she had come to a similar conclusion. To her 
they seemed a gorgeous exhibition of celestial fireworks, 
displayed for her benefit. After some more than usually 

A Gale at Sea. 


bn'Msni flasii and thunder peal, she dapped her hands 
with delight and cried, — 

" Do it again ! Do it again ! ' And it did it again. 

The great ship swing-swang did not need liing told 
to do it again. U did it so oftei that, after a time, the 
little eyes closed, and Pc-arl slept with her soft out- 
stretched hand upon her mother's cheek. 

Her brothers u-ere less fortunate. They had gon? to 
sleep, each in his own birtli. when a sudden lurch of the 
ship, followed by a heavy roll, lasjded them both in a con- 
fused heap upon the cabin floor, Fred, who w-as in the 
top berth, hurt his head rather 
badly, and set np a doleful 
howl. Ths mother rang the 

bell for the stewardess, who ^-r ."i 

soon bundled the youngsters 
into the lower berth. 

"Better slcL^p together.' she 
said ; " there is less danger of 
your rolling out." 

In the morninf; tlie doctor 
came round to see how they 
were. The boys hailed him 
as an old frijnd, and even 
li tie Pearl consented to be 
kissed, "if the doctor would 
promise to cure Kitty," a doll 
who was supposed to have 
suffered severely from being 
ihfoivn out of the bertli in the 

The sea was still ruining 
high, although there were sijjna 
that the wind was falling. Net 
more tlwn twenty or thirty jias- 
gengers had presented them- 
selves at t*reaikrast. The rest 
Iweakfasted in their cabins, or, 
for the most part, did not 
breakfast at all The pro- 
fessor, when they visited liim, 
was very prostrate . 

" Complon'' said he, in a 
hoarse whisper, "I tiiink I have 
til row n up my immortal soul " 

" Glad to IJear that you ever 
had one," said Compton, lightly. 
" You always doubted it." 

The professor did not reply. 

Irene Vernon was all right 
She was going to get up before 
lunch. " She was as hungry as 
a hiwk," she said, " and she 
would be at table if her cousin 
had to carry her in a chair." 

During the morning the two 
boys peeped out of their cabin, 
and seeing the doctor in the 
distance, summo.ied him to I heir help. 

"We want . o have a look at the waves," taid Fred. "Don't 
you think we could get on deck if you took one hand ?" 

" Trj-," said the doctor. VVnh many a tumble they suc- 
ceeded in gaining the deck. The wa\-es were not splash- 
ing over the bulwarks, and the rain had ceased. The sun 
(vas faintly shining through the clouds, and its rays were 
tiready beginning to give light and colour to the heaving 

" Do you kno^v," said the doctor, after he had ensconced 
iis young charges safely in a sheltered spot, "v.-l-ata poet 
:fjix said caused tlie waves to roar ■' " 

" Tell us ! " said the boys, eagerly. 

"He said that w!ien the north wind blew the old gods 
of Asgard — " 

" Where is Asgard ?'' asked Fred. 

" Where Thor lived with his thunder hammer, and Odin 
with his ravens, and Baldur the Beautiful. Well, the poet 
said that the old gods came forth with the north wind, and 
chanted the Kutiic songs of old ; chanted them louder and 
louder as the wind roared over the wateis, until the waves 
shimbering deep in the ocean, were awakened by the 
song and, rousing themselves, lilted their iieads to hear it 


more plainly. And when they heaid that mystic chant, 
they grew mad with excitement, and tossed their great 
heads on high, and clapped their hands, and danced in 
frenzied glee. For they, too, belong to the family of gods, 
and the old song recalled the time before the old gods 
were dethroned, and the Ooss of Jesus smote down the 
thunder hammer of Thor." 

Fred's great eyes dilated as he listened to Heine's pretty 
conceit, and then they wandered away to the great sea of 

Then he said, " Is this a north wind, doctor?" 

•' No," said he, " it is a south-etster, but all the wiadA 

FiiOM THE Old World to the New. 



haw their songs, which the waves hear and under- 

stand," , , . J . 

•■ Where do the waves go to when the wind stops sing- 
ing?" said Tom. 

" They go down deep into the still water at tlie l>ottom 
of the sea, where no ripple ever disturbs their sleep, ex. 
cepting when, now and then, a dead man settles slowly 

" What is the bottom of tlie sea like, doctor ? " asked 


" The bottom of this sea is like a smooth, slightly slop- 
ing plaio. If it were nil dried up, yovi could drive a coach 
from Ireland to Newfoundland without ever needing to 
put the brake on. But it is very deep, deeper than even 
fishes can live in except a few, which you never sec. The 
pretsure is too great." 

" Could a diver go down to the boltom ? ' 

" No, if he tried the blood would burst from his eyes, 
and he would die. No one lives doivn there. Not even 
mermaids. But do you know what there is down below ? 
All the Atlantic cables arc there, whicii are the telegraph 
wires of the deep sea. They need no telegraph posts. 
They lie on the bottom in the ooze, covered all up with 
gutta pcrcha, and down there at this minute they are 
pulsing news and messages as quick as thought from the 
Old World to the New.' 

" Doctor," Siiid Fredi after a long pause, "it is not tnie 
that story about the wind's song and the wave's dance '? " 

" No,'' replied the doctor. " It is only a poet's fancj'. 
But there are far stranger things than that which are quite, 
quite true," 

" Tell us some," said Tom, 

"I told you one to-day about this ship being driven 
through the waves by the bottled-up sunshine. Now, 
what would you think if 1 told you that t>elovv the keel of 
our ship, far, far down in the dreamless deep, where no 
storms ever come, there is going on the making of chalk, 
out of which is made limestone and the marble on your 
washstaiid ? " 

" \\'ho is making it, doctor ? " asked Fred. 

" God," said he, laconically. Then, after a pause, during 
which no one spoke, he said : " Do you know how He 
does it '? By death. There arc millions and millions of 
tiny little creatures in this upper sea, which live for a lime, 
and make their little shells out of the carbonate of lime in 
the salt water. Then they die ; and when they cease to 
live, their little shells— such wee, wee shells, you can only 
see they are shells by looking at them through a micro- 
scope— fall down, down, dois-n to the bottom of the sea. 
Day and night, summer and winter, year in and year 
out, there is a ceaseless, constant downpour of these tiny 
shells to the ocean floor. It is the great cemetery of the 
sea. The pilcd-up corpses of the dead make the oory 
mud that is brought up by the deep-sea soundings. In 
time, that becomes chalk, and chalk, when cooked by the 
great ovens that are heated down below, becomes marble. 
To make your marble washstands, who can say how many 
millions of little shell-fish had to gWe up their lives?" 

" See," said Tom, '' there is another ship," 

It was a heavily-laden cargo-steamer, floundering along 
on the waves at a distance of about two miles, 

" Come," said the doctor, " I want to show you some- 

The children, taking each a hand, staggered and rolled as 
best they could to where they could sec the captain. He 
was taking observations for the meridian. 

"What is he looking through that funny thing for?" 
asked Fred. 

" To see exactly where the sun crosses the meridian," 
lepUed the doctor. 

" But what good docs that do ? " 

'■ That is the way in which the captain can find out ex- 
actly where the ship is, and how many miles she has run 
since yesterday.' 

"Can you get to know exactly where you are ? " 

" To within about five miles " 

" There," exclaimed the captain, " that makes eight bella. 
It is now exactly twelve o'clock." 

" But all the clocks are wrong, and all the watches. 
Every night at twelve o'clock they alter the ship's clocks, 
but every iiour they go \\Toiig again, because we are racing 
along and get ahead of time. If 1 never altered my watch 
it would show twelve o'clock at New 'Vork -ivlien New 
York time would only be about seven o'clock in il e 
morning. New "i'ork is jast about five hours behind 

■With such talk the morning wore away. At lunch many 
more convalescents appeared. Nearly all the Blue Brigade 
were in their plates. But the professor was still laid up, 
and many anxious inquiries were made on his behalf. 

In the evening the wind had almost died away, and 
after dinner Compton was startled by hearing the voice of 
the professor. 

'■ Kcsurrectcd, " said Professor Glogoul, with a forced 
smile. '■ Come along to the smoking-room. I want to 
sec the earlier pools. It is the begiiioing nf things that 
interest ine. Their later development follows wcll-ascer- 
t lined laws." 

They sauntered to the smoking-room. 

" Five shilling pool to-night, " said a gentleman near the 

" How m.nny miles did she make to-day?" they asked. 

"We are waiting to know," said their informant, "1 
have bought the minimum, but I fear the wind helped her 
through the sea. My luck is small." 

Presently the exact number of miles was declared to be 
486, and the lucky holder of that figure pocketed the stakes. 
The new pool was opened. 

" Are you not going in - " said Compton. 

" Certainly not, ' replied the professor. " Let us sit down, 
and watch the gamblers make their play. It is quite a 
Monte Carlo, both as to excitement and morality," 

The pool was small— so many passengers were sick; 
but twenty deposited their crown-pieces, and drew lots for 
the twenty numbers between 4S0 and 500, Then the num- 
bers having been distrilinted, they were all put up to auc- 
tion. The chief competition, of course, is for the lowest 
and highest numbers, carrj'ing, as thf y do. all numbers 
below and above the minimum and maximum Each 
player has a right to buy in his own number at half price, 
but otherwise there is no reserve. The proceeds of the 
auction are pooled, and the holder of the winning number 
canies off the stake; At present playing vvas low, and the 
stakes small. 

" Gambling," said the professor, " is the resource of 
mankind against ennm. It is mental dram-drinking. The 
mind gets sluggish and dull It needs a ' pick-me-up.' 
That, in many cases, is the pathology of gambling, and 
asw the mind gets jaded it requires a severer spur. So 
the stakes increase. As people get terribly bored on 
the Atlantic, gambling and betting tend constantly to 

•' That is not the worst of it," said Compton. " The fool 
who has no resource for exhilarating his brains but by 
emptying his pockets exists everywhere, but the ugly thing 
is tjie kind of vultures he attracts wherever he goes. The 
professional gambler is as well-known on the oceati 
ferry as in the casinos of Nice. There are not a few 
sharpers here, even now, and there will be more before 
another day is over. " 


In Mid-Ocean. 


>• P<Kit is not so bad," said tlie professor. " It is most 
respectably conducted — as honestly as the gaming at 
Mtinte Carlo— but it opens the door to gaming which is to 
pool \i*luit the hells of Nice are to the highly respectable 
establishment of M, Blanc " 

Card-pla>ntig was going on in many directions, and 
money was beginning to change hands. Tlie proiessor 
watched the players curiously lor a time, but after an hour 
he said, with a sigh, — 

" There is not a rook or a pigeon here that is worth a 
cent for the purposes of scientitjc investigation." 

As they went back la their berth, Compton asked, — 

" How have your observations on llie Snoring Ancient 
gone on ? ' 

" Don't ask me," said the professor, lugubriously, " 1 
know no more of what has passed than a Kodak of the 
pictures it has taken. Von know the old joke when nml-de- 
wt^rhas you by the midriff? 'You press the button, the 
steward v^ill do the rest.' He did." 

Chapter VI.— Is Mid-Oceas. 

Sati'Rd.^y ivas fine. Three-fourths of the passengers 
came out of their berths, and roosted, more or less com- 
fortably, on their deck chairs. Mrs. Wills, with little Pear) 
and her dolls, was established in the centre of the Blue 
Brigade, now doubly distinguished by possessing the only 
baby on board. The doctor initiated the boys into the 
mysteries of horse, billiards, deck quoits, and shuflleboard, 
and x*-aiidered with them all over the ship. With the aid 
of the deck steward he rigged up a swing chair from a 
cross beami in an out-of-the-way corner, and there little 
Pearl and her brothers were swinging in turns half the 
morninp. At eleven o'clock they all watched, with in- 
tense interest, the starting of the captain upon his daily 
rounds of ins[>ection. In the afternoon boat drill was 
held, and the children were delighted at the rapidity 
with which the boats were manned and made ready for 

The professor and Irene had established themseh'es 
close together in the shadow of one of the boaN, and 
seemed to find endless material for conversation. Irene 
was a wayward, handsome girl, somewhat spoiled, and 
although she had been twice or thrice engaged to be mar- 
ried, she had always broken it off. She rhapsodised about 
love, but love she had not known. It was mill to be ivith- 
out a lover, and she could no more have lived without a 
lover than she would have dressed without a corset. Men 
went into raptures about her. Three or four had oflfered 
her their hand, but the depths of her nature had never 
been really stirred. She liked the delighttul dissipation of 
love-making, and took a suitor as men take champagne. 
She disliked to be off with the old love before she was on 
with the new, for she always felt it was safer to hai.'e the 
new suitor alongside before she sent the old one adrift. Be- 
sides, she was an artist, and cultivated her ideals. The 
favourite for the time being might please her so long as 
she saw him through a shimmer of novelty, and she 
could flatter her vanity by imagining him a prince and 
hero. But when she came to see him closely, she found 
her prince had freckles, and her hero, instead of being 
Apollo Belvidere, was manifestly a somewhat round- 
shouldered mediocrity. Then she got tired of her choice, 
and looked round for the next one who should come 
along, #s 

In the professor she found an altogether different man 
from any whom she had ever met. He piqued her by 
treating her not in the least as a fine lady, or even as a 
prett; girl, but simply as a specimen sample of the human 

female at the age of twenty-two. He had no more fueling 
about her than it she had been a chunk of old red sand- 
stone, or an obscure chemical compound. She interests 
him because she was frank, cynically candid, and sell- 
conscious to a degree unusual even in an age in whiel 
prime ministers and moralists work themselves iip intt 
ccstacies of praise of the journal of a girl which carefully 
chronicles how admirable she found her hips when she 
posed herself before her mirror preliminary to going t« 

Irene was fascinated with him from the first. She 
was ambitious, and capable of spasms of intellectual aspira 
tion. This man, nearly twice her age, who knew all the 
eminent savans of Europe, who had been everywhere, and 
who had made friends with the worst criminals in the 
prisons of two continents, had about him something de- 
lightfully, dangerously attractive. So she hstened to hiir 
by the hour at the time, heard his theories of humar 
nature, shuddered at his stories of his experiences, and 
looked for\vard .with a fearful joy to seeing some 0* 
his vsonderful experiments She was quite willing to havf 
allowed him to experiment upon her, to any extent short 
of vivisection, but her temporary cousin interposed his 
veto, and she had to wait until a suitable sub)ect pre. 
sented itself, 

" Permit me, doctor," said the professor one day, "tc 
aftix my latest patent to your cousin's little finger. It is t 
wonderfully simple little instrument which records and 
registers the degree of excitement or expenditure of 
nerve force which is going on in the system. ' 

'" You can do that if you please," replied the doctor . 
" but no hypnotism." 

■'Why does the doctor object to hypnotism?" askco 

" Because he objects to your placing yourself as abso- 
lulely in my power as if you were a threepenny bit in mv 

" But can yoti acquire that power over me? It seems 
too horrible. 

" Of course I can," said he. "The power of a hypno 
list over the hypnotised is absolute. I can make you in 
sensible to feeling in your own body, and yet keenly sus- 
ceptible to every pain which 1 suffer. I can transfer all 
your sensitiveness lo a glass of water, so that if I stir it up 
you suffer ; if I prick it you writhe, if I swallow it you 
swoon. Nay, I can outdo all that the old witches did, and. 
by transferring your sensitiveness to your photograph, 
can cause you to suffer, possibly to die, if 1 pierce the pot- 
trait with a pin," 

" Oh," said Irene, •' do you think you could teach me to 
hypnotise ? " 

" Yes," replied the professor ; " but you are not to be 
trusted. Permit me to afS.'c this to your finger. It will 
register on this scale the exact expenditure of emotional 
force caused by every thought that passes through your 
mind. Every emotion influences eiery particle of your 
body. The time is coming ivhcn you will be able to write 
a man's biography from a section of his elbow, and a 
glance at his shin-bone will enable us to know whether he 
was what you call good or bad." 

" But why won't you teach me how to hypnotise ?" 
" Because." replied the professor, very deliberately, 
looking intently as he did so at the registry of his favourite 
instrument, "Because I do not think it safe to give you 
access to such a facile substitute for the poison with 
which you will some day try to kill your husband." 

" Professor ! " she exclaimed, indignantly. " Do jrou 
take me for a murderess ? " 

" The register shows a pressure of 75 out of a maximum 
of too," said he, triumphantly. "W'hat an admirable 


From the Old World to the New. 

lensitive yoir are. But why take offence ? Facts are facts, 
Ifou are very easily bored. Any husband icill bore you in 
toe. It is a law of nature. You wil! endure it for a 
fear or two, but after a lime you wiil feel that anything 
would be better than this awful fHHu,'. You will shrink 
for a long time, perhaps for ever, from poison. But if you 
could use hypnotism, as the witches did, to kill your 
husbnnd by piercing his portrait or image with a needle, 
you would not hesitate a moment." 

.He went on. " Vou sec, you are emancipated from all 
restratnts. You have lived through your religions. You 
do not believe m Gt>d any more. But you have not yet 
learnt that the taw of the Social Organism is as iiie.wrablc 

as the laws of God, and you " 

■•Well." said she. saucily, but half afraid, "what ivill 
the laws of the Social Organism do to rac?" 

" They « ill sentence you to be hanged by the neck until 
rou arc dead \ Dear me, bov,- interesting," he said. "The 

\ ; 








register only shows 6c instead of -- r«^„ i j , 
spoke of murdering your Sand rL '^™"''''J "hen I 
«.me latent altruism^in you aS ,1- B,?; Z'' 'u'''^' ''" 

toresp^ndTheradJnnc^ h""'"" "°* ""?"'' <^'=P««'l 

bphe clergyman who sat neit the Blue Brigade at Ih- 
dmner-table. In the evening at dinner, the profes^.jr o^ 
«!?^" '" ""^ afternoon sermon, remarked ■ 
" Why, he has not even got to Hegel ' " 
"Who is he, and what is Hegel ? ^' asked Irene 
"Why the parson is he," said Dr. Gbgoul, "and Hp„» 
Iianism is the last refuge oj the orthodox The fJ™^ 
^t evacuated it fifty years ago. The American p™.^ 
IS occupying ,t now, but that good man -well, alter bearmi 
him. I am now prepared to listen to a discourse uwn hf 
s^n.fictnce of tlte flight of the bird^ or the c^mSj^ 
efficacy of prayers offered at the shrine oi the EplS 
Diana, or the Capitoline Jove." i^piiesiaa 

" You should not be too hard on him," said Com^ton. 
-Some men are of their time ; some are before it ; oth™ 
o. whom our preacher )s one. are far behind it. These .S 
wS^rk^ed^^-^- -^-^^--'* '^eir batt.e^c^rS 

" Ate as dead as the feuds of the Guelphs and Ghih^L 
knes. or as the Wars of the Roses," said tl?e d^tor '^ 
in age when our friend the professor is prepared to diu 
monsttatc that there is no such thing as t^oral esnm^ 
bihty, and that man is as material as a ha^s itTs raC 
a twiddling of the thumbs to hear grave futl^tl Vbout the 

aoo,?„l''^""' '"^ *^ pre-eminent importance of the 
apostohcal succession. 

"Vou should have heard him the other nieht " said Mr, 

Inv. 11, "at our table. He said thit t^ nZl , „ "" 

cester had betrayed his trus? v eivitJ ,L v '' f ^^ °'- 

the Sacrament a? GnndS *tifa Z cLrrh nTp*'"?'*'^" 

was honey«imbed with infide^.'lS yet th if S the 

only Church oi God with the'true credVntiais left *!:: 

. " It is such men as these," said Comptoi], "whose r.reten 

s as rank as their pride, who make the very name of Chrii? 

janity to Mink in the nc-strils of mankind^ Tone time I 

thouglit tlie Chu«:h might be saved if on v as am™ 

bTc^i^e^e plr [ ^^'^^t^'-l'sh'^'l and disendowed: n" 
^^ch^Hu. "■'•^" '^"^"" ""^'^ "P '" ■ ^'"^ "^at'lh^J^a'^ 

The professor interposed,— 

"My boy, Cohimbus did not discover Am^ri.. v 

s.idlrS'^.'H'" '^'"™'"»"" » hmmd . ..i„,,- 

In Mid-Ocean. 


It was not for nothing, or by accident, that Ihc geographer 
of St Die named tlie new-found continent after Amerigo 
Vespucci, who described it, rather than Columbus, who 
claimed to have discovered it." ~ 

" But who did discover America ? " asked Mrs, Ir^vio, 
•• or was it ever discovered at all ? '' 

"America was first discovered," replied the professor, 
"by the Scandinavians, who visited and described what 
they called Vinland, but which was part of the const of the 
North American Continent, six hundred years before 
Columbus crossed the seas, Columbus began life as a 
pirate, achieved reno^i'u as a filibuster, tried to recoup 
his fortunes by siave-dealing, and died in well-merited 
disgrace. Alike in private and in public life, 
his character was infamous, his mendacity vaa 
stupendous, and it would be well for tlip 
world if he had never existed." 

" But surely he brought Christianity to tlie 
New World ? " said Irene, " and added 
America to the civilised world ? " 

'• Christoplier — Christ- Bearer — that was 
his name, but Diabolus would have been a 
better designation." The professor was now 
fairly roused, and declaimed with a fen-our 
very rare in him. " Ransack history for 
those men who have been n.imed by a 
■huddcririg world as the scourges of God, 
and you will find fc-w worthy to rank with 
the man whom Europe and America are no^v 
delighting to honour in the last decade of this 
philanthropic and humanitarian century. No I 
Neither Atlila witli bis Huns ; nor Hyder Ali, 
the scourge of God, rank before this Genoese 
filibuster, who sacrificed a whole race in 
order to boom bis own fortunes and re- 
deem his lying promises to a deluded 

"What race 7' asked Tom, "the Red 
Indians ? " 

" Columbus ne\-er set foot upon the con- 
tinent. The scene of liis exploits were 
those islands of Paradise known as the 
West Indies. Since the d.iys of Joshua, his- 
tory has recorded many a bloody conquest, 
and Africa to this hour bears terrible tes- 
timony to the crimes of civilisation. But 
the dealings of Columbus with the Carib 
stand out in bold relief as the supreme 
example of perfidy, ingratitude, and ruthless 
cruelly. When he landed he found the West 
Indian Islands densely peopled by an in- 
offensive race, who hardly knew the differ- 
ence between mine and thine, who had alt 
their land in common, but who dealt truly 
one with another without books, without lavv-, without 
Judges. Upon these helpless people ColunAus de- 
scended as a tliunderbolt of hell. In twelve years 
he, and the bloodsuckers whom he let loose in their midst, 
bad extirpated the entire race. The sword of the soldier 
and the lash of the slave-driver completed a work of ex- 
termination which, for rapidity and thoroughness, has few 
parallels in history. Four hundred years have passed 
since then, but these lands still lie scarred with the deso- 
lation of his rule. When we reach Chicago we shall find 
his monument set on high for all men to honour, but <ve 
shall hnd no exhibit that would equal in real interest that 
which we shall not see— a specimen of a single village, or 
a single family of the manly, simple race wliith welcomed 
him \rith generous hospitality, and were rewarded by 

After delivering himseH of this estordlum, the jwofessor 
departed. He would refresh his mind, he said, and wipe 
out the hateful memory of a Columbus by cultivating the 
acquaintance of a Calabriaa bandit whom he had unearthed 
in the steerage. r 

The boys stared after him in blank amazement. At 
last Tom said, — 

" Motlier, I always thought Columbus was such a great 
man? " 

•So he was, but great men are not always good, my 
boy," replied Mrs Wills, "And it is not right lo judge 
the people of the fifteenth century by the standpoint of 
the nineteenth. He was much better than Cortez and 

'And for sure,'' said Mrs. Irwin, " if we have to rake 
up all the sins of centuries ago, there are some races 
nearer home than the Caiibs who have almost as much to 


complain of. although their oppressors were never able to 
clear them off as completely as the Caribs." 

"It is odd,' said Compton, " how entirely the professor 
loses control of iiimsclf — becomes, in fact, not himself — 
when Columbus is mentioned At other times he is cool, 
s;ientific, and absohitely nitlilcss. But name Columbus, 
and he holds forth like a ranter preacher." 

'• In the long history of the marlj-rdom of man,'' said the 
doctor, " few chapters are so auful as tlinse which relate 
to subject races. 1 don't know that we are much more 
humane to-day for all our progress. Instead of enslaving 
the abotigines in the mines, we slowly poison them at ■ 
profit per head with opium and alcohol I sometimes think 
it would be more merciful to do it quick with strychnine 
and prussic acid. But such mercy would earn no divi- 
dends. Therefore, I suppose, the slow process will con- 


From the Old World to the New. 

tinue (o the inevitab[e end. It lias come in Tasmania n 
^not^ar ort .„ .he United States AostrTlil rformuc!! 

Tliere ((-as a pause. Then Fred aaid — 
^ Am^erica' " "■ '" ''" "^ "'"^^ ^■"""i'"^ did cro« o«r 

ciier south than 
■Jur road. His 
little ships sailed 
down to the 
Canary Islands 
before tliey ven- 
tured to leave the 
Old World behind 
^hem. Then they 
arossed over to the 
3a ham as. ' 

" Were they 
'cry little ships, 
loctor ? " 

"You will see 
* facsimile model 
»f his caravel 
vhen you get to 
the World's Fair 
t is a little ship of 
'.ixty tons. It had 
*a its consorts two 
imaller ships ot 
orty tons. These 
*'ere manned by 
•jrews numbering 
♦ bout a hundred 
.■nen. Here is a 
Picture of it from 
« recent photo- 
Taph. You see it 
-a. mere coekle- 
:hell compared 
'^th this great 

'* It is not so 
^Teat a thing to 
^™ss the Atlantic 
■f a small ship," 
laid Irene. "Don't 
* a n in the ' 
:rystal Palace 
vho crossed it 
«Mne years since 
° an open sail 
^at navigated 
solely by himself? 
^e crossed it 
*gain last year, 
wd he is going to 
show his little 14- 

Sann 'Sd 'll^C''^'' '^^'1, " =' -re not for the 



'■ Ft i= 7 u ° would s«-im acre 

Mrs. mC '''L !s'tTe r ^''^'^' '" tl-eraselves,- said 
obstacle. The Uuki^L '"''?« "'"" "° '^at is the great 
had no ch.n^^ HtZZnli7''^'^ "="'^'^- ^olu^C 
His sailors imagLd * f^^lj'! "■^' "^!1'"K '° '"dia. 
'8 not conscience but iinLinf, ^"'u^ *" destr.ictio.i. It 
of us all." "nagioaiion that makes tiie coward 

"So," said Compton, "our lack of imagination mav h. 
one grea. secret of England s power. The sotnnambuh'S 
walks safely m serene composure the dizziest C^h^^ 
from which he would fall headlong if he once opened^ 1,^ 

"Doctor," said Tom, with all a boys appetite for r^^ 
" how many miles is it to America ? '■ P*^"'^ *°^ f^«». 

"About 3.000,*" 
said the doctor 
"It is about the 
same from South- 
ampton and from 
Liverpool Cohim- 
bus sailed from 
Paios to the 
Azores ; and from 
his last Old World 
prt to the Ba- 
aamas, it is about 
Sj5oo miles." 

■ How long did 
ittake to do it in?" 
asked Fred. 

" About five 
vveeks. So his 
voyage lasted 
thiny-tive day?, 
an average of 
seventy mi.'es a 
day. Nowadays, 
we sho.ild con- 
sider that very 
slow. Yesterday, 
for instance, we 
ran 498 mik-s, 
and to-day the run 
"ill be just as 

"Columbus did 
not make such 
very bad time," 
said Compton, 
'vvhen you con- 
sider that down to 
the beginning of 
tlie century, three 
weeks was re- 
garded as a quick 
passage between 
Lii-erpool and 
New York, Steam 
brought it down to 
a fortnight fifty 
years ago, and 
now we make the 
pta in a week." 

* yoys." said 

the docl or, 

"nn-er forget 

all through your 

usually the most 


rS'taken, and tSthe" wS'" "' "^"^"^ »'- -- 
scientific man who i nuTt^ '. P*":!" '" ^'^ ^P°" is the 

n was so in Columbus? La'ndh.l; t'^ ""r^"^'^' 
ferry across the Atlanti/ ' ^ ^' ^^°^^ '!'« steam 

"ne'of the most eminent T ''^l^^^^'^^^' ^r. Lardner, 
publicly declared, im he „T 1 '"'""^ °^ ^^' ''""^ 


In Mid-Ocean. 


" IIoiv lovely the sky looks now the sun is going down ! " 
said Irene. "If the weather would only keep like this, I 
fan coDceiv nothing more enjoyable than life on the 
Atlantic. liut what is the matter? ' she asked kit the 
professor had just returned in a state of unwonted excite- 

>' Icebergs!" he said ; "the captain has just learnt from 
the last steamer that passed us that some icebergs arc 
drifting across our path. We shall be upon them in thirty- 
six hours." 

"Well," said Mrs. WiSls, who did not understand the 
significance of the news, "iceljergs or no icebergs, it is 
time little Pearl went to bed," and with the departure of 
Pearl, the Blue Brigade broke up in a somewhat sombre 

Fred only seemed cheerful. "Tom.* said he, as he 
went down with his brother to his berth, "isn't it jolly 
about these icebergs ? I wanted to sec one. oh, so mutli. 
Do you think there will be any bears on them ? " 

Tom could not say ; he hoped so, but he feared not 

The professor went aft with Irene, who seemed quite 
under his spell, the better to see the last of the sunset, he 
said, but, in reality, to [lour into her willing ear, a full and 
particular account of the bandit in the staerage. The 
professor, at last, had found a type of the -Ybnormal whicli 
<!atisiied his utmost aspiration. His rf-w- found type was 


a bandit, and a soi. of a long line of bandits. When llie 
brigands were hunted into retreat, lie became a professional 
assassin. He had explained to the professor, with the 
utmost sangfroid, that the tariff was simple. For a plain 
murder he only charged £,y, but he never did the kill and 
damn for less than /[ro. 

" Kill and damn ? ' said Ireie, slightly shuddering. 

"Oh, it is a refinement of Italian malevolence only pos- 
sible when men have not yet emerged from their supersti- 
tions. My bandit is most religious ; wears a scapular, and 
carries a rosary, and his orthwloxy is unimpeachable. It 
is the creed of the Church that any one dying in mortal 
sin goes straight to perdition. A 'kill and damn' order, 
therefore, necessitated the inveigling the victim to commit 
a mortal sin at the precise moment the assassin struck the 
blow. The us:ral trethod is by drink. He does not quite 
remember how many he has despatched, but he prides 
himself upon the punctuality with which he executed all 
his engagements." 

"What a dreadful man !" said Irene. " B:it why is he 
in the ship ? Is it safe for you to be so familiar with him ? 
I — 1 should not like anything to happen to you," she said, 

If the professor's cunning little instrument had been in 
pnsition on his own linger I lie tell-tale register would have 
shown a not inconsiderable rise of temperature when 
Irene made that remark. But his instrument was in his 
portmanteau, and he did not betray the least emotion as 
he answered her question. 

"On the contraiy, I assure you. he has already inti- 
mated that he is open to despatch any orders I may care to 
entrust to him, for he evidently thinks the New World is 
as promising a sphere for his operations as the Old." 
"And what did you reply tu him?" asked Irene. 
"Oh, I told him that we did not do things in that way 
in America, and 1 advised him, if he wanted to make the 
best use of his talents, to go on the Stock Exchange, or 
become the proprietor of a newspaper.'' 

" It seems something awful," said Irene, "to think that 
we are sending over the choicest specimen of European 
rascality to inoculate American civilisation. But, I sup- 
pose, we began it with Columbus, and we do but as our 
fathers did." 

" Oil, " said the professor, much touched by this allusion 
to his favourite aversion, "my poor bandit will never do 
in all his life a thousandth part of the abominations that 
Columbus practised in the single island of San Domingo," 
"Odd, isn't it ? ' s^id Compton, as he watched Irene 
and the professor sauntering in the gloaming to the most 
secluded part of the deck, " 1 should not be surprised if 
the girl, in search of a thrill, arid the professor in search 
of a type, liave not found themselves mutually suited. But, 
doctor, come to our cabin. I want to have a lew words oa 
a rather important subject." 

■Wynne, whowas sincerely attached to Compton, complied 
at once, wimdering just a httle what Jack Compton was diiir- 
ing at. He knew him to be a man of boundless ambition, 
of immense wealth, and of indomitable force of character, 
but, hitherto, he had kept his plans very much to himself. 
When they were seated in the cabin, Compton began, — 
" I don't know what you think of it, Wynne, but it haa 
long seemed to me that the world is ripe for a new more- 
ment, based on modern ideas." 

" Perh.ips," returned the doctor ; " but what kind of 
movement ? and what do you consider distinctively modem 
ideas ? " 

" To answer your last question Erst, I regard as dis- 
tinctively modern the ideas of Democracy, of Home Rule, 
of Federation, of Sociahsm,of the Emancipation of Woman, 
and the restitution of the Lost Ideal of the Church. 
Equally modern are the ideas of Heredity and of Evolu- 
tion by the laws of Natural Selection, the Struggle for Exis- 
tence, and the Ehmiuation of the Unfit. And the kind of 
movement to which 1 allude is the world-wide combination 
of an elect few in every land in an association pledged to 
dedicate their lives and their substance to the promotion 
of these ideaU." 

The doctor shook his head. " it is too vague and it is 
too vast. What you are thinking of is a modernised So- 
ciety of Jesus — lay, not clerical— directed towards ends 
social and political rather than ecclesiastical or theologi- 
cal. But can you generate the self-devotion of the Jesuit 
for social or political ideas ? " 

Compton replied with some warmth : " My ideals are a* 
distinctively religious as Loyola's or Dominic's. I admit 
the basis of any such Society must be religious, but it need 
not be ecclesiastical, and religion can be shown as effec- 
tively by the Service of Man a3 by the elaboration of 
ritual or the definition of creeds." 


From the Old World to thi- New. 

"I'ell me, then, what yoii are dridngat, and rememb ;r 
always that the world is very wide, that the only institu- 
tion that ei-en partially covera the world has taken 
nearly two thousand years to grow to its prjsent dimcn- 
aions, and that th;; \*ery extent of territory covered by your 
tcheme make^ it too cumbrous to work." 

■' No,' replied Compton. " Herein I must say you are 
wting. Yon reason from the misleading analogies of the 
pAst, when things went slow, ani when it took a year to 
g^ round the world. You forget that we live in the age 
ot the newspaper and the telegraph, and that we are just 
about to enter upon the Telepathic Era, which will practi- 
cally annihilate space and mike us literally within hearing 
of each other all over the world." 

"With telepathy uuiversalis?! and systcmilised you 
can do many things at pr:jent impossible, but after all it 
Is only a means to an end.' 

" I grant it ; but I an as clear ai to my end as I ano 
about the means by which to attain iL You object tj my 
Bcheoie as 1 roughly stated it as vague. It is, as you will 
sec, quite clear and deSnite, and this Chicago Exhibition 
has brought them to a head. ' 

"In what way?" ajlted the doctor. "The Chicago 
Exhibition and your Siciety seem far as the poles 

'• Then things are not as they seem. For, in reality, this 
Worlds Fair may give impstus to a movement which will 
dominate and transform the whole scheme of the universe 
so far as this planet ii concerned." 

" You speak in riil dies. Compto i," sighed the doctor. " I 
wish yoj would h: more precise." 

'■ Well, then, what do you think is the real signiScance 
of the World's Fair ? Is it merely one great Irrtemational 
Show the more ? Is it merely a glorification of the pro- 
fess'irs 6i'le no't Colum'i'.if ? or merely a great advertis;- 
ment of the mitcrial wealth of the United States ? As- 
suredly not. If that were all, I should certainly not be 
making my way to Chicago. The World's Fair is a far 
more serious businesithin even its promoters have yet 
conceived. it pat J the issue fairly and squarely 
before mankind whether or not the lime has come for the 
United States of America to displa:^e Great Britain fronn 
the hegemony of th^ English-speaking race." 

The doctor sighed. " Hi5 it cami to that already? 
And this from you, Comptsn?" 

Compton took no notice of the reproach, bvtt continued 
with the positive air of a man who is laying down a set of 
niath:mattcal propositions. " What is at stake at Chicago 
l< the headship of the English-speaking world. The 
great problem of the immediate future in the sphere of 
nigh politics is this : Round which centre will the Englisli- 
apeaking communities gr JUT themselves .■' Will the grr-at 
race alliance, which is the hope of the future, have its 
centre in Washington or in London ? or will our race, 
permanently rcat in two, continue to ha%'e two centres ? 
it is b -cause that question seems likely to be decided lor 
good or for ill at Chicago that I am on my way there." 

" And which way will it be settled i " asked the doctor, 

»"That depends upon many things, but, so far as Britain 
is concerned, 1 fear she will allow judgment to go against 
h»t by default. And yet not even a remote glimmering of the 
momcntou's crisis upon which we are entering has dawned 
upon the minds of any British statesmen. They are 
absorbed in tinkering on with the affairs of Ireland, tin- 
witting that before Home Rule gets well established the 
United States may have swept into their fiscal system the 
fcest part of our Colonial Empire, and that Home Rule may 
•eome to Ireland from Washington rather than from London 
—may, and will, if American statesmen have eyes that see 

and ears that hear. But, who knows ? They may be as pur- 
blind on the other side. That is why 1 am bound for 

" You may be right," said the doctor, " but I don't quite 
see it. But how does this fit in with your .Society ? " 

" The primary object of my Society in the political sphere 
is the cementing of that race alliance between all English- 
speaking peoples which is the chief hope of the future 
peace .-ind civilisation of the world. The great crime of 
last century was the action of George 111. in rending the 
English-speaking race in twain. It was as the crime of 
Jeroboam, the son of Nebat. who made Israel to sin. To 
undo the consequence of that crime, by re-uniting the 
Empire and the Republic is, of necessity, the supreme task 
of any such society of which I speak. To promote the re- 
union by every means in their power would be the duty of 
all its members. And as it is indispensable to know where 
lies the real centre of gravity in such a union, you can see 
how vital is the connection between the World's Fair and 
the world's future, from the standpoint of our Society." 

"Yes," said the doctor, "I understand that. But how 
are you to bring it about ? ' 

" By using any and every means to the uttermost of the 
individual and associated capacity of all our members, 
biU chiefly by this : By rrstoring the Lost Ideal of the 
Church, that is to say, that we have to re-teach mankind 
that the primary work of the Church of God is the Service 
of Man. uf man individually and of man collectively, either 
in state, nation, empire, or municipality. We have, in fact, 
to use the national ideals of tlie Old Testament to revivify 
and energise the Church which was constituted to carry 
out fhc ideal of the Xew : 'Thy kingdom come. Thy will 
be done on earth as it is in h*aven.' " 

" And do you hope to succeed in the face of such unfailh 
KS there is in the Churches in everything but the mint, and 
tithe, and anise, and cummin of theological shibboleths and 
sectarian watchwords ? Why, the very lever which yoti 
wish to control is a rope of sand " 

" No doubt, and tliat is why it is necessary to found a 
Society, including men and women, both within and with- 
out the Churches, wliich will not be a rope of sand, but a 
twisted strand of tempered steel. Its members would not 
parade themselves before the world. They would work 
as often in secrecy as in public. While not a seci 
society in any sense of the word, it would be a great frei 
masonry ivithout its aprons, and ils mysteries, and, at the 
same time, a great Society of Jesus without its despotism 
and its idenliQcation with any particular sect." 

" But howcommunicate without a hierarchy? how secure 
co-operation and concerted action without the outer forms 
of organisation ? The wider your range the more indis- 
pensable is machinery, and, at the same time, the more 
cumbrous and unwieldy." 

"Doctor,' said Compton, thoughtfully, "you know 1 
have been studying modern psychology for some time past. 
I cannot explain things to you fully at present, ! have 
not the time and you have not the rudiments necessary 
to enable you to understand. But I know as a scientific 
fact that it is possible to communicate instantaneously 
from a common centre, orders, counsel, judgment, and 
suggestion, to trained telepathists ail over the world, 
without the use tif any other .tgency than thought. ' 

The doctor looked somewhat sadly at Compton, and 
said, — 

" Where is that common centre to lie found, and where 
are the trained tclepithists to be discovered ? ' 

Compton said simply, but impressively. — 

"That common centre exists, and at this very moment 
telepathists in ever>' capital in the English-speaking world 
arc made aware that you have been told of tlie existence of 

Coincidence and Clairvoyance. 


the Society, in which I hope you \\i\\ be enrolled as a 

The doctor was startled, and before he recovered from 
his surprise Comptoii opened the door and vveut upon dectL 

Chapter Vtl.— CoiNcinEhXE and Clairvoyance. 

"Glad to see you again, Mrs. Julia," said the doctor, the 
next morning, as the sweet young widow. Mrs. Julia, put 
in her appearance at the table. " I was afraid you had 
been quite bowled over by the ntal -de-men" 

" I might have been dead, doctor, for all the trouble you 
took to see how I was," she said, somewhat tartly. "But in 
trnth, I have not been ill at all. While yon have been a musing 
yourself,! have been performing tasks of charityand mercy. 
"Not in the steerage, I hope ?" said Mrs. Invin, hastily. 
" I crossed on the steerage once, but never again ; never 
again, no, not ever, if it was the only way of tearing oid 
Irehind, which the saints forefend! ' 

" No," said Mrs. Julia, " not quite so bad as that. But 
I have been in the Intermediates, I found a poor yonng 
lady there, quite ill and exhausted, without, apparently, a 
friend on board. She is not strong to start with, but she is 
so good- hearted that she persisted in trying to help a ponr 
miserable Jew girl who was ill in the steerage, with the 
result that tlic second day she was on board she um? 
regularly laid np. As she cannot leave her berth, and as 
she has to lie there day after day all day and all night, i 
thought it only charity to go and take my meals with her.' 
"Where i^ she bound for? ' asked the professor. 
"To Chicago, like the riest of us," replied the widow. 
" It is a sad errand for her, I fear. Her father has been 
employed in putting up some special building —1 forget the 
name just now ; he has caught the grippe, and she is hur- 
rying over, whether to nurse him or to bury him she 
hardly knows. I liave taken to her greatly. This morn- 
iofi she "'as a trifle better, and so I slipped round to my 
old place to bear bow the 1^1 jc Brigade is getting on." 

"The professor," 
said the doctor, " is in 
the seventh heaven. 
He bns disco^-ered a 
professional assassin 
who lias obligin};!y 
undertaken to dis- 
pose of any of his 
enemies for a consid- 
eration. He has also 
three confirmed drun- 
kards under observa- 
tion iu the saioot}, 

where they drink without intermission from morning to 
night; and half a do^en professional gamblers who am 
engaged In emptying the pockets of all the simpletons on 

" Do not forget," said the professor. " the means with 
which my little instrument has cured the snorer — it J3 ooe 
of the tnumphs of my life." 

•'And the rest of you? ' asked Mrs. Julia. 

" Oh, ' said Irene, " we are developing a passion for deck 



DiifK nriuis. 

quoits. Wo also play cricket everjMrternoon before dinner, 
but it is ruinous in b.ills. At present we are engrossed in 
arrangements for a concert. You play the guitar. Do you 
think you coidd give us a song to your own accompani- 
ment, or would you mind accompanying the professor?" 

" Th,Tnks, no.' replied the widow; ''I think he would 
play best to your accompaniment," she added slyly. 
■' But does he sing at all ? ' 

" Alas 1 no. madam. Miss Vernon is only joking," pro- 
tested the professor, 

"Why, I heard him singing 'Oft in the Stilly Night," 
exclaimed Mrj. Irnin, '■ only last night, when nearly every- 
one had gone to bed. He was singing it all to himself 
alone, btit there was a feel in the tone of his voice as if 
he had somebody on his mind or in h:s heart. ' 

"What, professor !" said Compton, with a laugh, "are 
you turning a sentimentalist ? ' And as he spoke he 
glanced at Irene. 

" Really," said that vivacious lady. " I shall be getting 
quite jealous of Mrs. Irwin. You never sang that song to 
me, sir,'' she said to the professor; "you never even told 
me that you could sing.*' 

As the company left the breakfast-table, and were going 
on deck, he said, awkwardly, " Miss Vernon, I have too 
great a regard for you to venture upon making any rash 
attempt. It was the words, not the music, that I was hum- 

Irene flushed just a little with pleasure, and then left 
the professor to seek Mrs. Wills, who, with little Pearl and 
the boys, was still in the cabin. 

As for Mrs. Julia, she no sooner saw the company disperse 
than she departed to seek out her neiv friend in the Inter- 
mediates. She found her someivliat better, well enough 
to be out of her berth, but too weak to venture upon deck, 

"Well, well," said Mrs. Julia, "but this is an improve- 
ment, indeed. I am glad to see \ ou t)ut it must do yotl 
good to leave you to yourself a lit le. If I had come to 
breakfast you ivould ha^-e been si ill in bed." 

" Don't say so, ' said the Intcnaediate, feebly. "You 



From the Old World to the New. 

have been so good. How can I ever thaiiic you enough ? " 
and, as she spoke, she laid her dclicale, soft hand upon 
the widoivs arm. 

"Thank me ! Wei!, I declare," said Mrs. Julia, as she 
put her arm round her and gave her a teuder and affec- 
tionate kiss. " It has been a great pleasure to come here 
and feel I was doing some little good in the world, for, 
after all, dear, I have helped you a little, have I not ? ' 

"Helped me?" was the reply. "Oh, Mrs. Julia, I 
never should have pulled through but for yoj." And she 
(aid her head upon her friend's slioulder and sighed, 
clinging to her as a child clings to its mother when in fear. 

" Come, come,"" said the little widow ; " you are going 
to be better soon. The voyage is half over, and, dear me, 
you might as well tell me your name," 

" My name is Rose." 

" A pretty name," remarked Mrs Julia. " I fear this 
little Kose has had many a thorn ! ' 

"Oh, dont ask me, " sobbed Rose, burj'ing her face in 
Mrs. Julias bosom. "Some day, when I am stronger, [ 
may tell you, but not now. " 

" Poor child, poor child," thougiit the widow, as she 
silently stroked the long and lustrous brown tresses 
^vhich streamed down over Rose's shoulders. " The old, 
old story, I su])po5c. It never needs much guessing; tj 
know the cause of a woman's grief," 

"You don't mind, Mrs. Julia?" said Rose, "1 am 

ashamed of myself giving way tike this, but oh. Mrs 

I' ' JuUa, it is nearly seven years since I ei'er met a hurnan 

-cteature to whom I could be as close as I am to yoiL It is 

Sti new, so strange, so sweet, to find some one who cares 

for you enough to let yon cry with them." 

The widow's eyes, despite her efTorts. were blurred with 
rising tears. The freemasonry ot sorrow bound her to this 
girl not much younger than herself Was she not also 
almost alone in the ivorld, and where could she now look 
(or those loving arms to which for tvi-o brief years she had 
flown as a bird to its nest witli every sorrow and every joy. 

" Cheer up. my dear Rose, ' she said at last, with a 
Bomewhat choking voice. " Cheer up. and remember you 
are not the only woman who is left alone and desolate." 

Rose looked up hastily, and, seeing the widow's face 
wet with tears, exclaimed, " Oh, how selfish of me, how 
eelfish; forgive me, my dear friend, for forgetting " 

" Nonsense," said Mrs, Julia, with a smile like a sun- 
beam gleaming through a rain cloud. " Come noiv. let us 
sit down like sensible women and talk quietly. And, as a 
beginning, let me do up your hair '" 

And then for in hour or more these two lonely ones ex- 
changed confidences, and told each other their hopes and 
fears until, when the lunch bell rung, they felt as if they 
had known each other for years. 

"Oh. Adelaide," said Rose, for the widow had insisted 
upon being addressed by her Christian name, " I shall never 
forget the awful lonehness of that first year in London. 
Until the day when I left home I had never slept outside 
my mother's house. I had never known a day when I 
was not called by my Christian name, and on which 
I was not constantly addressed as Rose. And to 
come to a great city, with millions and millions of 
human beings meeting you every day. not one of whom is 
anything to you, or you to them -oh, it is awful 1 My 
little world in the cottage was a world full of love, and in 
the villags was a world full of interest, perhaps, sometimes 
not the most kindly, but always interesting. But the great 
world of London was a world where nobody cared enough 
for me even to invent spiteful gossip. I was alone, 
utterly, awfully alone. Oh, Adelaide, Adelaide, it nearly 
drove me mad, " and she shuddered at the memory of that 
dismal time. 

" .And had you no one to love you, or care for you at all 
in the whole place ? "' asked the widow, lovingly caressi.ig 
the girl's brow, and occasionally passiug her fingers through 
the girl's hair, 

" Not a living soul, not even a dog or acat ! " said Rose, 
bitterly. " I was no longer Rose ; 1 was only Miss Thistle 
—for I changed my name so that he might not find me — 
and even that only to about tuo or three people— my 
landlady, my employ\;r, and the liltle drudge who xvashcd 
up and waited on the lodgers. I was pooi, very poor, so 
poor that for weeks togethi-r I lived upon bread and 
water, or oatmeal and milk, but the hunger that pinched 
my body was nothing, nothing to the hunger that consumed 
my sou!." 

" How did you manage to get along at all ? It is difiS- 
cult enough to those who know their way about. But for 
you, poor innocent, with such a face, it is miraculous you 
escaped, ' 

" 1 think the good God took care of me," said Rose, 
simply. " If it had not been for Him 1 should have gone 
mad, or thrown myself into the river. Slany a time I used 
to pray to Him. oh, so earnestly, to keep me. and although 
He sometimes seemed a long, long way off. He never let 
me go quite under. But, oh. He was so slow sometimes 
I nearly lost heart altofiethcr. * 

" Poor lamb, poor little lamb,'' said the widow, sooth- 
ingly. " AncI did you ever hear of him all these years ? " 

" Yes, often. 1 watched his career with pride, only 
feeling now and then as he went upw.-irds step by step 
that I shoukV never be worthy to stand by hi--j side. 
Oh, now, even if I had made myself fit to be his wife, as 
he w-is at Stratford, he has risen so much since then ; the 
gulf will be almost impassable. That thought used to 
harass me for a long time. But I was saved from that by 
a beautiful dream. I dreaired 1 was standing in the moon- 
light close to Ann Hathaway s Cottage, although the scene 
seems strange and new. 1 was very sad and lonely, and 
ielt as if all was over, and that notliing was left but just to 
die. when suddenly, in the strangest and most unexpected 
fashion, "Walter stood before me, and said, ' Ruse, my own 
long-lost Rose." And I fell into his arms, and it seemed 
in my dream as if we were never to be parted again any 
more. And aUlioii2;h you may thiEik it superstitious, and 
although I udmit there is no reasan for such expectation, 
yet, from that mament. I have never doubted that, some 
time or other. I shall meet him where I met him at first, 
close to the dt^ar old cottage, and the long-deferred dream 
of my life will be fulSlled. Oh, Adelaide. Adelaide, do 
you think I could otherwise ever have lived through all 
the horrors of all these years, that constant black desolation 
of loneliness, night after night, year in year out, with 
never a soul to speak to, never a heart to confide in. 
and all round you the constant pressure of tempting 
fiends ? " 

Mrs. Julia wag a woman of the world, and she appre- 
ciated only too well the trials through which her companion 
had passed. 

" It was hard," said Rose, wistfully, " for a young, enthu- 
siastic girl such as 1 was to come to London, and find men 
as they were. People said that I had a pleasant face, and 
I made my living for two or three years as an artist's 
model. 1 have been painted m^y times as various 
heroines in history or romance. Most of the artists were 
gentlemen. Here and there, however, were some who 
were very different ; and outside the artistic world, there 
are only too many who will do cvcrytliing to spoil a poor 
girl's life. 1 remember once living for six months at a time 
on ten shillings a week, out of whii:h 1 had to pay five 
shillings a week for rent and a shilling a week for the 
reading ticket at South Kensington Library. All that wtn> 



ter, when tlie struggle seemed almost hopeless, and the 
blackness of utter df spair had settled down on mc, I might 
have had everything the heart could wish— except honour 
— if I would but hive given in. But 1 thought of my 
dream, and 1 never gave in. Never, never. And when 
he finds mc again at Shottery he will find 1 am as true to 
him as that beautiful day of the White Rose, when we 
first sjjokft of love." 

■' \\'hat a bra^e little girl you lia^-e been. Rose," said 
Mrs. Julia. " But you are not a model now?" 

'■Oh, no, 1 gave that up nearly four years ago. I ahvaya 

which I had to live into a new and ideal region. What is 
more practical, nothing ever brought me more money 
llian fairy stories. So, by degrees, 1 gave up being a 
mode!, and devoted myself altogether to fairy tales. You 
see, I lived over and over again, in every stor\', my own 
life. My Prince Charming was Walter, no matter how 
disguised, and I was the maiden all forlorn. I UTOte my 
stories with my heart's blood, faio' stories though they 
were. I sent some of them on chance to a ma|?azine editor. 
He printed them, and asked for more. And so I am au- 
thoress now," she said, with a wan little smile. "And 


had a craving to write. I had it even when I had parents, 
relatives, lover, on whom to pour out the fulness of my heart. 
But when 1 was all alone, with not a living creature whom 
1 knew by their Christian names, and to whom I could 
ever express any sentiment more profound than a remark 
about the weather, ivriting became a necessity, I wrote 
verse, I wrote prose, I wrote novels, I wrote anything and 
everything that could serve as an escape from the pressure 
on my heart. But these effusions were never printed. 
Most of them were burnt. Then, at last, almost by sheer 
accident I discovered that I had most satisfaction in writ- 
ing hiiry stories. Dont laugh. Nothing ever gave me 
suci; relief. I got cut of the sombre, everj'day world in 

although not rich, I can supply my own wants, and have 
enough to spare to go to Chicago to my father." 

" I hope your father will lie well when you arrive," said 
Mrs. Juha. •■ But there is the lunch-bell, and now I must 
leave you. Poor, dear Rose, I am so glad to hive been 
some little help to yoit." So saying, the pleasant little 
woman tripped away to lunch with tlie rest of the Blue 

The doctor— Dr, Vernon as he was called— was a'bscnt 
from lunch, as he and the professor had arranger* to lunch 
in the stecKige vvith the Calabrian brigand. 

At table Mrs, Julia, full of her subject, discoursed vjth 
vehemence upon' the virtues a;:d the beauty of her friend 


From the Old World to the New. 

111! : 

1 19 

1 I in 

in t'le Intermediate. Miss Tlvisile, she declared, was one 
of the most eliarming, lovible women whom she had ever 
seen in her life-such grace, such beauty, such pluck ; in 
thoii, slie exhausted her vocabular>' of eulogy in dcscnb- 
ine the lonely woman in the second-claw cabin. 

Irene listened with languid interest, fechng r^t'icr bored, 
.nd resenting the absence of the professor. 

Compton was absorbed in his own thoughts, and even 
Jlrs. Irwin, usually very sympathetic, seemed weighed down 
ty au unwonted gloom. 

So, as soon as possible, Mrs. Julia finished lunch, and 
departed to pour out her tale tnti the sympathetic ears of 
Mrs. \Vills who. bieforc night, was marched off to visit tlie 
lovety "Intermediate." 

Mr. Compton was ahniptly aroused from his reverie by 
.a direct appeal from Mrs. Irwin. 

" If you have ten minutes to spare, Mr, Compton, I will 
be glad to have a u-ord with you by yourself." 

" Certainly, madam, will you come to the Library ? It is 
ture to be empty just now, and we can speak at leisure." 

They soon found themsoh'cs ensconced in a corner of 
the Library. There were only one or two ladies present, 
and shortly afterwards these left Compton and Mrs. Irwin 

'■ I would not li.ive ventured to troub'e you." Siiid Mrs. 
Irwin, ■' but 1 know that you are no stranger to occult 
things. If 1 had not seen that in the face of you 1 should 
not have ventured to speak.'' 

*' Yes, yes," said Compton, somewhat impatiently, ■' but 
•what has that lo do with it V 

" It has evcrj'thing to do with it, sir," said she ; "be- 
cause, if you did not understand, it would be no use trying 
to e.tplain. I must tell you that I come of one of the oldest 
families in Ireland. We have the Banshet, of course, but. 
what is more to the purpose, I have occasionally the gift of 
second siglit. Now, last night -" 

Compton, who at tri.t had listened with hardly con- 
cealed impatience, suddenly manifested eager interest 

" My dear Mrs. Irwin, ' he exclaimed, " why did you not 
tell me this before ? Notliing interests me so much as to 
come upon those rare but peculiarly gifted persons who 
have inherited, or acquired by some strange ( ift of the 
fods, the privilege— often a sombre and terrible privilege — 
of seeing into futurity." 

" Sombre and terrible you may well say it ts," said Mrs. 
Irwin, "and fain would I be without it. It is a gruesome 
thing to see, as I have done, the funeral in the midst of 
the wedding-feast, and to mark the shroud high on the 
breast of the heir when he comes of age. But the gift 
comes ivhen it comes, and goes when it goes ; it seems as 
fitful as the shooting-stars which come no one knows from 
whence, and disappear no one knows whither." 

"Well," said Compton, "you were saying that last 
night ? " 

'■ I was saying," said Mrs, Irwin, " that last night, as I 
was lying asleep in my berth, I was awakened by a 
sudden cry, es of men in mortal peril, and I roused 
myself to hsten, and there before my eyes, as plain as you 
are sittinj there, I saw a sailing ship among the icebergs. 
She had bsen stoi-e in by the ice, and was fast sinking. 
The cre^v were crying piteously for help : it was their 
voices that roused me. Some of them had climbed upon 
the ice; others were on the sinking ship, which was drift- 
ing a^vay as she sank. Even as I looked she seltlcd 
rapidly by the bow, and went down with a plunge. The 
tvaters bubbled and foamed. I could sec the heads of 
i few swimmers in the eddy, , One after another they 
sauk, and I saw them no more, I saw that there were six 
men ami a boy on the iceberg. Then, in a mon etit, the 
whole scene vacished, and I was aloiie in my berth, witit 

the wailing cry of the drowning sailors still ringing in my 


" Did you notice the appearance ol anyof the sun-ivors ?'" 
said he, anxiously. 

" As plainly as I am looking at you," she replied. " I 
noticed especially one man, very tall— over six feet, I should 
say_who wore a curious Scotch plaid around his shoulders 
and a Scotch cap on his head. He had a rough red tieard, 
and one eye was either blind or closed up." 

"And did you see the name of the ship before it 
foundered ? ' 

"Certainly I did ; it was plain to see as it went down 
lieadforemost. I read the name on the s*em. It was the 
Ana and Jam of Montrose." 

Compton rose from his chair, and took a turn or two in 
deep thought. Then he stopped, and said, — 

•' Mrs. Irwin, you have trusted me, I will trust you. 
What you said has decided me, or rather has given me 
hope that we may te able to induce the captain of the 
Majfidc to rescue these unfortunates, one of whom is a 
friend of my own." 

" But did you know about it before 1 spoke ? " asked 
Mrs. Irwin. 

" I need not explain to you," said Compton, not heeding 
the interruption, "foryouniiderstand that there is no impos- 
sibility in the instantaneous communication of intelligence, 
from any distance, to others who have what some have 
descritied as the sixth sense. To some it comes in the 
form of clairvoyance, toothers as clairaudience, while to a 
third class, among whom I count myself, it comes in the 
shape of what is called automatic writing, I have many 
fticods in all parts of the world who also have this gift, 
and we use it constantly, to the almost entire disuse of the 
telegraph. At least once every day, each of us is under a 
pledge to place his hand at the disposal of any of the 
associated friends who may wish urgently to communicate 
with him. This morning, at noon, when I placed my 
hand with the pen on tay dispatch book, it wrote off, with 
feverish rapidity, a meisage \i*hich 1 will now read to you : 

'"John Thomas. Tuesday morning, fonrn'clock. The 
Ann and Jane, Montrose, struck on an icetrerg in the fog 
in North Atlantic, and almost immediately foundered. Six 
men and a boy succeeded in reaching the ice alive. AU 
others v.-ere drowned. For God's sake, rescue us speedily ; I 
otherwise death is certain ftom cold and hunger. We are l 
close to the line of outward steamers. — John Thomas.' 

" The signature, vou see," said Compton, " is the same as 
that appended to the last letter I received from him, which 
I hunted up after I had received this message. I have, 
therefore, no doubt that 'John Thomas' with five other 
men and a boy are exposed to a lingering death on the 
iceberg some hundred miles ahead." 

" But," said Mrs, Irwin, " what can we do ? " 

" That," replied Compton, " is my difliculty. To have gone 
to the captain with this message, without any confirmation 
but my word, would probably have exposed me to cer- 
tain ridicule, and might have led the captain to steer 
still further to the south. Now, however, that you also 
have had the message, 1 will hesitate no longer." 

'V\'ithout more ado, he wrote a short note to the captain, 
begging to be allowed to communicate viith him on a 
matter of urgent and immediate importance, involving 
questions of life and death. 

Hardly had the messenger departed with the note when 
the professor and the doctor entered the library. 

"Halloo, Compton," said the professor, "are you not 
coming on deck to see the fog ? But, in the name 
of fortune, what is the matter ? Doctor, I think you had 
better look to Compton." 



"It's notliing" said Compton raintly, "only a nasainff 
qualm. Is tlie log verv dense ? " passing 

"You can see u in [he distance Ike a dim grey wall 
lying right across the bows of the steamer We glial I he 
into .t m half-an-honr. Hut. ' p.rsuted the jirofessnr 
" something is up. Can I not help ? " 

"ProfL-ssor." said Compton, a sudden th..ught striking 
him -rf I send for you from the captains cabin, please 
hold yoursell in readiness tn come " 

" Certainly." sai.l the professor. ■■ But what, In the name 

of common-sense, are you troubling the captain for iust as 

the snip IS entering an lee fog?" j ~ •'" 

'•Mr., the captain will see you at once in the 

cabin, said the returned messenger. 

" Now, Mrs, Irwin ; not one word to any one ! Professor 
I may send for yon shortly." ' 

So saying, he followed the messenger to the caotains 
cabin^ It w but^seldom that anv pissnger vemutls to 
mtnide mto that *anch.m But Mr. Compton ,va5 not an>- passenger. He had often cross<-d the Atlantic in 
vessels under (he command of the present captain He 
w^s known to be a man of power, of infl.ience, and of 
wealth. More than that he had, on more than one «^ca. 
sion given invaluable information, nrocnred no one knew 
how or where, which had enable/ the captain to avoid 
mirament dangers into which h,- was Steaming at full speed 
He ivas, therefore, assured of a respectfulhearing, e^-cn 
from the autocrat of the Maj.^iu- o„ the verge of an ice fbc 
Now. Mr. Compton," said the captain,' "what is it 
yo,i vv jsh to say to me ? I have only a f«,v minutes to spare 
We shall have to steer southward to avoid the ice floe 
which IS drifting across our usual course ' 

"I want you." said Mr, Compton, i -nperturhablv, "to 

continue your usual course in order to pick up six men and 

« boy who are itranded on an iceberg from the ship aZ 

^fOaajme. of Montrose, whicli foundered at four o'clock 

^BHrmorning, after collision with the ice." 

■ . The captain stared. " Really, Mr, Compton how do 

you k„on- that ? It i.. impossibfe (or any on^e t^k.ow if.' 

Mr Compton replied. ■■ There is the despatch froraont 

of my frjends. John Thomas, who ,vas on the sliip, and i- 

Tnoon this'da?""' "■"'^■"^ "^^ ""^ =" "^^ °^™ !-"^«-"'-i 

orroum:f;i::cr'' "" ^''p*'"'"' ^" ""^^^^ -?«"•- 

in.oS"2n!''' '"'• "'■■ "'^ "" '*®"'' P"""'^ "'^ "^-^ 

" Slacken speed," said tiie captain. '■ I shall be out it 
a moment. 

He carefully read and re-read the paper, and then said- 
\\ ell, really, if you were not Mr. Compton I should 
consider you a lunatic. What possible reliance can bt 
placed upon such a statement ? " 

■'I received this," replied Compton, stgniBcantlv, " in the 

erbied?;.:to*-i:^'^""='' '"•= -""^^^^ °^ ■»^9, which • 

n/.'ii^^^"'!^''''*^"' "'^ captain; "otherwise, I should 
not be listening to you now." 

" Gut this story has not come without confirmation ;" ard 
tnen Compton repeated Mrs. Irwina claln-oyant vision. 

VMiut do I care for these old women's stories,'* said 
the captain. - But even if they were true, what then ' I 
lave nearly 2,ood passengers and crew, ill told, on board 
fnr iZ f ^ '^"'"'^ "°' "'^^ "^*"' 3"d 'he ship, hunting 
AlianU " caslaM-aya on an iceberg on the North 


e,-e{ifM,eTerrr^';^f„ ^f^^^" have died e. „«w. 

Com'pS ' "' ^"'^ *" «'''^ «*= P^-" -d P-P-.- said 

The captain handed him what he wanted. Compton at 



Ai1h„l^''h''i'";! *" '*■*' '*"' whole of this itory it purely imaniMrv 

once grasped the pencil, snd placed it on the paper. Ahnoal 
immediately it wrote ;— 

- Jolin Thomas. Iceterg. Three o'clock. At one o'clock 
the iceberg parted under our feet, three men and a boy 
were carried away. Three still remain, frost bitlen, with- 
out food or lire. We shall not be able to survive the niahl. 
When the Ahh and /<me foundered, we were on t!)c out- 
u^rd liners' route, 45 by 45. on the extreme soutlieni edae 
of the ice-Boe. Since then, it has rather receded F« 
God s sake, do not desert us.— John Thomas." 

The captaki stared at the curious uTJtlng, which wasnOk 
Compton 9, and then stared at Compton. 


From the Old World to the New. 

' How far are we off the 

The latter merely said, 
position mentioned ? 

The captain looked at the cliart, 

■■ We are steering by our prcMtit altered course directly 
upon the spot where he says the berg is floating. Ifi 
believed your message, 1 would steer still more to the 
south ivard, to give the ice a clear berth. It is no joke 
abaving round an iceberg in such a fog as this. But 1 do 
not believe your message, and 1 will not alter the course 
of the Majestic by one point, for all the witches and wizards 
that ever lived. ' 

•Captain," said Compton, "your niece is on board, 1 
believe ? " 

•■ Yes," said the captain. " But what in the world has she 
to do with it ? ■' 

"If you will allow her to come here, and permit me to 
send for my friend, the professor, I think we shall be able 
to convince you that these sailors are waiting deliverance. " 

The captain rang the bell. " Bring my niece here in- 
stantly," he said, " and Professor Glogoul. Thank 
heaven," he added, "the fog is so dense, no one will be 
able to see them come, or else they would think— and 
think rightly — that I had taken leave of my wits.' 

In a minute or two, the niece and (he professor had both 

"Captain," said Corapton, "will you I ;t your niece sit 
down ? The professor hypnotized her in a previous voy- 
age, and cured her of sea-sickness. He can cast her into 
hypnotic sleep with her consent, by merely making a pass 
over her face with his hand " 

The captain growkd, " Do what you like, only make 
haste. If it were any one but Mr. Conipton," he mutteied 
under his breath, "if it were any one but Mr. Contipton, 1 
should very soon have cleared the cabin." 

The captain's niece had hardly taken her seat when the 
professor's pass threw her into a hypnotic sleep. A few 
more passes and the professor said she was in the clair- 
voyant state. 

" V\'hat is it that you want ? '" he asked. 

" Tell her, ' said Comiton, ■' to go ahead of the ship in the 
exact course she is now steering, and tell vis what she sees. ' 

The professor repeated the request Almost imme- 
diately the captain's niece began to shiver and shudder, 
then she spoke — 

"I go on for half-an-hour, then for an hour; it gets 
colder and colder. I see ice, not icebergs, but floating 
ice, I go through this floating ice for an hour, for two 
hours, then the fog gets thinner and thinner, it almost 
disappears. I see icebergs, they shine beautifully in the 
sunlight. There are many of them stretching for miles 
and miles, as far as I can see. \\ liat a noise there is 
when they break and capsize. ' 

"Do you see any ship or any thing?" asked the pro- 

'tNo, I see nothing, only icebergs. I go on and on for 
another hour. Then I see on an iceberg, near the fcot, 
some one making signals, I come nearer, I see him 
plainly. It is a tall man with one eye and red hair. He 
is walking up and down. Beside him there is one man 
sitting, and another man who seems to be dead. It seems 
to be the edge of the iceberg. There is clear water 

'■ That will do,' said Compton, 

The professor ble\v lightly on the girl's face. 

She opened her eyes, and_ stood up looking round with 
R dazed expression, 

"Well," said Compton to the captain, "are you con- 
vinced y ' 

"Convinced!" said the captain. "It's all confounded 
nonsense. Out with you 1 If you ever had to Bleer the 

Majtdi: through an ice fog in the mid-Atlantic you would 
know letter than to fool away the captain's time by such 
a pack of tomfoolery." 

the niece and ih; professor left the cabiru 
As Compton turned logo he said, " Captain, that tall, one- 
eyed man on the iceberg is one of my friends. Yon will 
keep on your course, as jou say ;— I desire nothing better. 
Will you promise me, if only for the sake of the pasi, that 
if you strike drift-ice in an hour and a half, and if you 
emerge from the h>g two hours later on the edge of the 
floe oi icebergs, you will keep a look-out and save John 
Thomas if you can ? " 

" If, if, if, ■ said the captain, contemptuously. "Oh, yes, 
if all these things happen, I wi:l promise; never fear, I can 
safely promise that ! " 

As Compton left the cabin the captain remarked - 

"They say it is always the cleverest men who have got 
the biggest bee in their bonnet, and upon my word I begin 
to believe it." 

Chapter VIII. — The Castaways. 

When Compton left the captain's cabin he felt a spring of 
exhilaration. The ver\' incredulity, the natural and proper 
incredulity <if the captain, would lead directly to the result 
which he desired. Hs would save his friend. The 
cliances against it seemed a million to one — to pick up a 
castaway on an iceberg, the exact location of which was 
uncertain, and which might be anywhere within fifty cr 
five hundred miles. What seemed more utterly hopeless! 
But Compton liad seen ton much of the marvellous perccp- 
tio:i of clairvoyant subjects \tnder hypnotism to doubt that, if 
the captain only kept onthe southward course, which he had 
marked out in order to avoid the floe, the rescue would 
certainly take place. 

Mentally transmitting a telepathic message to his friend 
on the iceberg, fearing greatly that he would not be able 
to receive it owing to the difficulty, if not impossibility, of 
practising automatic handwriting on the shifting ice, Corap- 
ton made his way through the fog to his cabin, where he 
found the professor waiting him. 

"Well," said that worthy, "what is it all about? It is 
rather unusual to summon one to an experiment when the 
experimenter is kept so totally in the dark. ' 

Compton soon satisfied the curiosity of the professor, and 
sent him to tell the doctor .-iiid Wx*. Irwin and the cap- 
tain's niece what had happened. He then sat down in his 
berth with his despatch book open belore him and pencil 
in hand awaiting the arrival of further messages from the 

Meanwhile, the steamer was forging her way onward 
through the fog. The passengers were either in their 
berths or in the saloon, or the smoking-room. None were 
on deck. Mrs. Wills and Mrs. Julia were with Rose in her 
. cabin. The doctor had undertaken to look after the boys 
and Pearl, Irene was looking out for the professor, whom 
she soon discovered, not at all to her satisfaction, in close 
conversation with Mrs. Irwin. Somehow or other, she did 
not like that Irishwoman, and every minute Dr. Glogoul 
remained with her tlve more she felt that Mrs. Irwin 
was the most objectionable of her sex. 

The dense, cold fog filled the air. You breathed it 
and swallow-ed it, and saw dimly through it across the 
saloon. On deck all was strained attention. The 
captain on the bridge kept constant look out, bearing upon 
his shoulders the responsibility for 2,000 lives, and a ship 
with cargo worth at least nearly /^40o,ooo, The quarter- 
master outside the pilothouse passed in the commands given 
by the captain to the iirst officer and to his messmate at 
the wheel. Every half-minute the fog whistle boomed ita 

The Castaways. 


great voice into the fog. Sometimes, as from a far away 
distance, tliey lieard the boom of another fog horn, but tliey 
could see tiothing. At tlie bows, the deck look-out peered 
into the impenetrable mist; and the qitartermaster posted 
to the leeward, and lowered the thermometer in a little 
canvass bag to test the temperature of the sea in hopes of 
timelv warning of the coming ice. 

The boys cov^xred close to the doctor, and asked him 
endless questions about the fog. 

" Where does it come from ? Who made it ? What 
was the good of it ? How could they sail through it vvith- 
out being able to see the end of the ship ? " 

" This fog," replied the cioctor, " came from icebergs." 

But that opened up another range of questions. 

" What were icebergs ? Where did they come from ? 
Would there be bears upon them ? " And so forth. A 
sharp child will ask more questions in ten minutes than 
a clever man can answer in an hour. 

" Icebergs," said the doctor, " arc 
mountains of ice floating about in 
tlie sea. Ice, you know, does not sink 
lit water. The bergs float just a little 
above the surface. All the rest is 
below. Tlie»e icebergs are bom in - ^ _ .. 

Greenland. The snow falls on the 
high land, and as it does not melt, 
and ever more and more snow falU, 
the great mass presses the lowest 
snow downwards and ever down- 
wards to the sea. Thus glaciers are 
formed, slowly-moving solid rivers • 
of frozen and solidified snow. Whetv 
the glacier pushes its way into the 
sea, its end breaks off, tumbles over 
into the water with a noise like 
thunder, and becomes an iceberg. 
The glaciers are eoiistatUly making 
icebergs. These iceberjjs drift slo\v ly 
away into the sea. Sometimes they 
get caught by the frost, and are 
ivinterbound. When summer comes, 
they drift off again into the current 
which carries them southward, A 
whole archipelago of icebergs ^^'ill 
sometimes sail southward r'ght • 
across the ocean route to America." 

" Isn't it very dangerous ? ' asked 

" It is the greatest danger of the 
voyage. For the icebergs bring fogs 
with them, and the fogs hide the ice- 
bergs until the steamer is close upon them. Imagine a coun- 
try as big as Ireland without lighthouses, foghorns, or any 
beacons, suddenly towed across the path of the steamer, 
and then enveloped in this dense frost-fog, and you can 
imagine. Hark, what is that ? " 

There was a sound as if the steamer were crashing 
through ice, and the screws were churning away amid the 
ice blocks.' Tlie doctor ran out to see what was the matter. 

When he was gone, Tom said to Fred, ■• It is very terri- 
ble and cold. Are you not afraid ? ' 

" Kather," said Fred. '■ I wish mother were here. Are 
you frightened, Pearl ? ' 

" No, I is not." said the little lady, with emphasis, "and 
Kitty is not frightened cither. ' 

" But, Pearl," said Fred, *' The fog " 

Pearl interrupted him disdainfuliy. " Can't God see in 
the fog. Fed ? ' 

The conversation was interrupted by the doctor's return. 
" It is not iceberg?, boys. It is only the floe ice which the 

great ship goes through as Tom bet« goes through sugaj 
candy, " 

■■ What is floe ice, doctor ? " asked Fred." 

" Loose drift ice, formed in winter off Labrador and 
Newfoundland. It is not dangerous. It is only iceberg» 
that are dangerous. ' 

'■ Do ships ever run against icebergs, doctor," said Tom 

" Oh, yes, about four are lost every year in that way 
But even if we did strike an iceberg, we probably should 
not sink. The AriMiia once went full speed into an ice- 
berg, and crumpled up thirty feet of her nose. She dio 
not sink, but got safely to Newfoundland, I hope, how- 
ever, we shall not try a similar experiment." 

" Doctor," said little Pearl, " could you go to find 
mamma ? " 

'■ Certainly, Pearl," said the doctor, "and where must 1 
look for her?" 


Tom replied, " She went with Mrs. Julia to see the sici 
lady in t!ie second class. I think I can take you there \! 
you will take my hand." 

"All right, Tom." said the doctor, cheerily, "I cat 
leave Pear! \v\\.\\ you, Fred, till we come back. Ta-ta " 

They felt their way cnutioivsly to the derk. It was w«S 
and clammy and bitterly cold. Every half minute the foi 
whistle blew : the clashing of the floe ice 3gaiti!<t the side- 
of the ship, and the champing of the ice under the screw 
made it difhcult to speak so as to be heard. Tom, howevei 
felt his way along to the second class cabin where he hac 
left his mother an hour before with Mrs, Julia. Thedocto,' 
knocked at the door. 

"Hush," said Mrs. Wills, as she came out, " the poo' 
girl is asleep." She pointed to the upper berth. His eyes. 
dazzled by the sudden glare of the electric light, sav 
nothing clearly beyond a prostrate form under the rug. 

" Good-evening. Mrs. Julia," said he. ■• 1 have come foi 
Mrs. Wills. Pearl has sent me to bring her along." 


From the Old World to the New. 

T1i«fe WM a (light mm-tment in the upper bcrlh. " I'd 
belter go at once, Mid Mr», Wills, *'«he is stirring," and 
•o saymf , »he closed the door, and the three made the best 
of Ibeir way back to the Hloon. 

Half-an hour later, Ro«e awoke. "Adelaide, she mur- 
mured. Mrs. Julia reached up. and kissed her. A« she 
did so, she saw a strange hght in Iter face, a kind ot 
radiance that was heightened rather Iban diminiihed by the 
tears that filled ber eye*. 

" Atkbide, " she said, " I have seen him ! He has been 

"Nonsense, chiW, " said Mrs, Julia. "Yoiihavc been 
dreaming, I nes'er left you since you Jell asleep. 

'• You may not hate seen him," said Rose, calmly. •• I 
did. I cannot be mistaken. I heard his voice, that voice 
which I have n«ver heard from his lips for seven long years, 
but which I have never ceased to hear in my dreams. 1 
beatd his voice ([uitc distinctly. I looked up, and there he 
was standing, older than when I knew him, with a sadder, 
more wistful look tlian he had in the old dajs. But it 
wat be. 

•' My de.r child, said .Mn. Julia, authorltatirely, "you 
must have been dreaming. Your illneM has made you a 
little light in ycrar head. I assure yoB, I have been here 
the whole time, and except Mr. Vcmon, who came to bring 
Mrs. Wills to her cbildren, not a Uviog aoul baa entered 
tbe eaUa.' 

" Adelaide, " she replied, "I am too weak to argue. 
You may not have seen him. I did. He is on the ship. I 
know it You cannot deceive me. " 

Mrsi. Julia saw it was indeed no use arguing So, 
bidding ber lie quite still and take a good dinner, she 

All this while Mr Cotnpton was in the cabin, watching 
the movements of bis hand, as a telegraphist watches the 
movements of the needle. It wrote a good deal Mes- 
sages were wtilten out, and signed by telepathic friends in 
Melbourne, London, and Chicago, Then came tbe WTiting 
as before. 

" John Thomas. Iceberg 4.0. Are you coming ? We 
cannot hold out much longer. One of the men is too 
frost-lntten to move. The log is clearing. — JohnThcmas " 

Then came more messages from Edinburgh, the Cape, 
and Singapore. It was singular to note the ronfidence 
with which correspondents in such distant regions com- 
municated with their chief iti mid-Atlantic But lie had 
only ejfes for one correspondent At half-past four, it 
wrote again. — 

"John Thomas. Iceberg, 4.30, The fog has gone The 
sun is shining. We are on the otiter edge of the iceberg 
field. If you skirt it. you cannot fail to.see us — unless the 
iceberg falU over again. The frost-bitten man is dead. 
We can hold out till sunset— no later. — John Thomas " 

Again more messages from other correspondents, which 
his hand wTote out without his eye following the lines. 
At half-past five carae the writing. — 

"John Thomas. Icelierg, 5.30 I cannot now see the 
time. My compaciion can no longer keep his feet. My 
strength is failing. —John Thomas." 

Comptoo could »tand it no longer Closing his despatch- 
book, he hurried upon deck. He saM' and heard the (Toe 
ke, and it seemed to him that the fog was not so dense 
He saw the captain on tite bridge. He went forward 
where the look-out was keeping a sharp look- out on deck. 
Suddenly he heard the cry. — 

'■ Icebergs on the starboard." 

The captain shouted something inaudible in the crash of 
the ice, the engine bell rang the engines stowed down their 

■peed, the steamer steered a trifle more to tbe sombwanL 
but slill kept pounding her way onward. He could only gee 
ghastly shadows looming darkly to the northward. If ^Ji, 
friend was on one of these phantatmal masses, what bone 
was there ? Sick at heart be sought out Mrs. Irwin. 

" Should you know tbe i-ebetg which yim saw in yj^ 
vision if you saw it again ? " 

■ Certainly, I would,' she replied. "It was very itre- 
Ifular, with huge overhanging pinnacles. 1 could swear to 
It among a thousand."' 

•• Stand here, tben, near tbe 4etk look-out. and keep your 
eye fixed on the nonh. It may be that tbe mist will rise." 

He went back to bis cabin. The professor was awaltins 
him. ' 

" WcU ? ■ said he. 

"It is not well," groaned Compton. As be opened his 
despatch-book to see if any fresh message was waiting to 
be taken down, his hand wandered a little over the paper 
Then it began ; — 

"John Thomas. Iceberg. My companion is dead. I 
am alone on tbe iceberg. 1 can no longer stand or walk. 
(Q another hour all will be over. — John Thomas. " 

" Halloo ! " said the professor. " The fog has lifted I " 

Compton rushed from the cabin, and tore madly to tbe 
bridge, where tbe captain \vas standing. 

" Captain," he cried, " remember your promise '. " 

And as he spiake, he pointed to a great flotilla of ice- 
bergs. Behind the steamer the fog was as thick as a 
blanket. Before her was open water. On the north 
fetretchcd the dazzling array of icebergs, ever shifting and 
monng Now and again a great berg would capsize 
viith reverberant roar. The captain was cowed. Ther* 
was something oncanny and awesome about the in- 
cident. He had seen icebergs before, but he had seldotn 
had such good luck as to pass clear by the southern edge 
of the Hoe, and then to have dear sky. 

He sent for Mr. Compton to the bridge 

"Captain, said Compton, before the other had time to 
speak, '• remember your promise. Here we are in open 
water outside the fog, just off the southern edge of the icc- 
bargs. Will you save John Thomas ? 

The captain shrugged his shoulders. " How do I know 
where he is 'f .\m 1 to use the Mojtitic, with 2,000 souls 
on Ixiard, to go liunling for John Thomas among that nil- 
derness of icebergs? Ask jourself. Is it reasonable ? " 

Ciinipton replied. "If I am able to point out the exact ice- 
berg « here John Thomas lies, will you stop and send a 
boat to bring him aboard ? ' 

" Yes. " said the captain, " I could not well refuse that." 

The Majestic was now driving ahead at full speed. All 
the passengers were on deck enjoying tbe novel and mag- 
nificent spectacle. Suddenly a crj" was heard from the 
bows. It was a woman's voice, shrill at>d piercing. 

" Tbwe it is ! That is it ! That is the iceberg ! " 

A rush was made fonvard. Mrs. Irwin was carried to 
the c.iptam. Then she said : " We are abreast of it, and 
will be past it in a minute. Oh. stop her, for the Lord's 
mercy \ You are not going to leave three men to die ? " 

The captain took no notice, but keenly scrutinised 
through his glasses the peculiar-shaped iceberg which she 
indicated. ■■ Tis curious," he muttt-red. " I seem to see a 
speck of something on the base of that berg." 

The bell in the engine-room sounded, the engines 
stopped, and the great steamer, for the first time since 
leaving Oueenstown, came to a standstill. 

Tbe ship was full of buzzing comments and eager in- 
quirj*. Why had the engines been stopped ? What was 
the matter 'i Never was such a thing heard of — to bring to 
ofl an ice floe. There was now veij' little floating ice. The 

The Castaways. 


Sea was trinquil. But who could say how soon the fog 
might fall again, or the northern licrga drift across the 
ships route ? The captain must be mad ? Was there an 
accident in the engine-room ? No, nothing was wrong 
there. What then ? In that hubbub the voices of those 
who held the highest numbers in the pool were loudest 
in angry denunciation of the captain. 

And in all this hubbub where was Compton ? In his 
cabin, eagerly deciphering the words which his hand 
wrote, hardly being able to do so for the tears which 
blinded him. It wrote ; 

" John Thomas. Iceberg. I am dying. I have lost 
all use of my limbs. I can see a steamer in the distance, 
but it will not stop. 1 cannot make any 
signal. Good-bye, chief; good-bye.— John 

While he was decipTiering this in his cabin, 
the crew, by the captain's orders, were busily 
engaged in lowering one of the ship s boats. 
A whisper ran through the ship that there was 
a castaway on one of the icebe];gs, and in a 
moment everyone on board, excepting the 
holders of the larger numbers, was intensely 
interested, and even enthusiastic. 

Compton came up to the captain. "Cap- 
tain," he said. "lam afraid it is too late, but 
grant me one favour ? " 
•• Well ? *■ 

" Let the professor and me go in the boat. 
My friend cannot help himself. He is motion- 
less and frost-bitten. Someone must climb 
the iceberg. It is not a task his friends should 
throw upon others. The professor and I arc 
The captain said " Go," 
^ The boat was now launched, the men were 
at the o:rrs, when the professor and Mr. 
Compton, carrying ice axes, a rope ladder, a 
coil of rope, and a bag with brandy and other 
restoratives, climbed dovvn the side of the ship 
and took their seats. 

How the passengers cheered as they towed 
away; cheered, too, in spite of the angry order 
to desist lest the sotmd should disturb the 
very slender equilibrium of some floating 

They were about a mile from the iceberg. 
The officer in command of the boat conferred 
with Mr. Compton, who briefly explained what 
was to be done. 

As the boat approached the iceberg, they 
could distinctly see three bodies, but they 
could make out no signs of life. 

Nearer and nearer they rowed, cautiously 
but boldly, although every now and then huge 
blocks of ice detached themselves from the berg, and fell 
with ominous crash into the water. 

Nearer stiil and nearer the hroat rowed, until it was 
almost within a stone's-throw of the iceberg. Then 
Compton, standing up, hailed his friend. There was a 
dull echo from the perpendicular ice-cliff, but the silent, 
motionless figures made no sign. 

" Too late. I fear," miittered Compton through his 
clenched teeth. " Never mind, let us bring him to the 
ship, dead or alive." 

The three bodies were lying on a ledge about twenty feet 
above the level of the water. WHicn the berg had split, 
the portion that broke off was that which had afforded the 
crew a tolerably easy landing-stage. Now there seemed 
DOthing for it but for the boat to lay up alongside .-.k steep 

ice-wall, and for the rescue party to climb aloft as best 
they could. 

Then another difficulty revealed itself. The sloping ice 
stretched under water for some twenty or thirty yards, so 
that the boat could not draw up to the face of the 

■' There is nothing for it," said Compton, "but for you to 
pull on until you feel the ice beneath your keel ; then the 
professor and I will wade to the face of the cliff, and climb 

The boat soon bumped on the ice. Compton got out 
into the water first, followed by the professor. The latter 
insisted upon carrying some strange machine round his 


waist. Each had an axe. and they carried with them a 
rope-ladder, a small coil ol rope, and a flask of brandy. 
They got otit cautiously, fearing lest a sudden spring 
might possibly bring the whole mountain down upon their 
heads. In that case, not only were the boat's crew 
doomed, but even the Mojfitic, a mile away, might be in 

Thev imagined they felt the ice give a little under the 
water, but they ignored it, and were soon at the foot of the 
ledge on which lay three motionless figures. 

Compton and the professor were experienced mountain- 
eers. They had little difficulty in cutting steps, on which 
they could climb, but the ice was rotten, and often gave 
way beneath their tread. On one occasion Compton, 
who was leading, came down with a heavy crash on the 


From the Old World to the New. 



professor, laming his left shonldrr. Tlicy began again 
at a place where the ice seemed more solid. This time 
Compton went up alone. 

The momert he gained the iedge. an enthusiastic cheer 
went up from the Mtijesli:. where his every movement 
was followed with breathless interest. Compton went 
directly to the longest of the prostrate forms. 

" John Thomas," he said. 

There was no answer. He laid his hand upon his face ; 
it was all frost-bitten, and as if it \vere dead, 

" Too late ! " he muttered ; " too late ! " 

The prolessor's head was just appearing above the ledge, 
when a heavy boulder, so to speak, of ice fell with a sullen 
crash out to the sea, dangerously jeopardising the safety of 
the baat, 

■■ I am afraid it is too late," said Compton, sullenly. 

The professor stepped blithely to the side of the apparent 

'• No," said he ; " you will see the use of my patent 
gal vano- V ita 1 izer. " 

He undid the machine he carried round his waist, and 
'jncoiled some wires, to which plates of copper weri; 
attached. One he placed at the back of the neck, the othrr 
on the abdomen. Then he prrx'ceded to tura a handle. 

"Sit by his head, Compton,'' he said, " and if he shows 
my signs of reviving, give him a snvall mouthfut of brandy. " 

Kor a time it seemed as if the handle might be turned 
for ever without producing more effect upon tlie body than 
upon the ice on which it lay. But after a while the appa- 
rent corpse began to ivvitch, the eyelids began to move, and 
then the mouth opened, and a heavy sigh tuld that vitality 
had been restored. 
. ^ _ Compton tried, at first in vain, to pour some brandy dov\'n 
his throat. It only choked him, and it almost seemed as 
if John Thomas had survived the cold only to be killed by 
• restoratives. At last, however, they got him sufficiently 
revived to get him to sivallow some spirit, and to take a 
spoonful of strong beef-tea. 

The professor then took off the galvano-vitalisrer. and 
jiroceeded to fasten the rope-ladder down the side of the 
cliff. He fixed the two ice-axes securely in the ice, and 
slung the ladder over the edge. He then fastened the 
small cord round John Thomas's w.iist. Compton and he 
carried the half-senseless, frost-bitten man to the top of 
the ladder. The professor then descended until he 
was in a position to take John Thomas's legs on his 
shoulders. He then began slowly to descend, Comptoi 
relie\'ing him of as much of the weight as passible 
by means of the cord. By thi.s means they got safely 
down to the water, and from thence it was comparatively 
easy to carry him to the boat. The professor was just 
returning for the ice-axes, the rope-ladder, and, above all, 
for his admirable galvano-vitalizer, when a cry was raised 
in the Ixtat which m.-ide his blood j-un cold — 

" The fog! the fog!" 

Looking round, he saw that the fog was sweeping over 
the sea, and the outhne of the Majestic could hardly be 
distinguished. Another ten minutes they might not be 
able to tind their way back. The professor forgot even 
his machine and leapt into the boat. The men Ijent to 
their oars as for life, and sent the boat flying over the 
■water like a bird. 

Denser and denser grew the fog, but they could see the 
Majestic right before them, and in another moment they 
were alongside. Just as they reached the ship they heard 
a long roar like the reverberation of a park of artillery, and 
then the water heaved violently and dashed the boat 
heavily against the side of the Mnpstic. 

There was a moment of agonising suspense. No one 
knew whether ih- displacement in the iceberg might not 

tead tn a sudden upheaval of an iceberg under the keel of 
the Majestic. There was a deathly silence. Then the water 
began to subside, and the boats crew, with Compton and 
the professor, and the frozen, half-dead survivor were 
brought safely to deck. 

There was too much alarm about the fog for much 
demonstration of enthusiasm. But, when the engines 
were once more started, and the Majislk felt her way 
slowly through the fog to the clear waters beyond, there 
was not one passenger on board who did not feel glad that 
the liner had laid to for two whole hours lo save that one 
miserable castaway. 

But there were some on board who were filled with 
deeper feelings than those of mere admiration and sym- 
pathy. During the whole of the two hours they had been 
absent from the ship Irene bad watched their progress 
with a strained interest of emotion which left her no room 
e\'en for the thought that she was experiencing the most 
terrible thrill of her life. She had hnrriedly thrown an 
old waterproof over her dinner dress, and stood against the 
bulwarks following through the glass every niovemtnt of tl.e 
professor, for it was he and he alrme for whom she cared. 
She feared he did not rare much for her. Why should 
he ? She was but a silly girl with a pretty face. He was 
one of the greatest scientists of the world. She would 
rather be trampled on by hiin than be made love to by all 
the other men in the ship. She had always been piqued 
by his impersonal method of regarding her as alkaU 
capable of yielding certain results when tested with acids, 
and she was honestly dazzled by his learning and genius, 
but this excursion of his to the iceberg suddenly trans- 
formed him into the prince and hero of lier dreams. None 
of the other men in the boat, not even Compton, seemed 
to be worth a thought. The professor, and he alone, was 
the hero-leader of tlie expeditiop. How noble he seemed 1 
His very eye seemed to glow with divine light as the boat 
left the ship. That he seemed supremely indifferent to 
her only added to his charm. 

From all which meditations it may be inferred that 
Irene was experiencing for the first time an entirely new 
sensation of utter himiility and of self-effacement. As 
the boat lessened in the distance, she had kept her glass 
fixed upon the professor, folloiving him with an emotion 
too deep for utterance until he landed below the ice ledge. 

An indefinable feeling of horror came over her as she 
saw he was in the ■water. She watched them cutting 
steps in the ice, hut her indignation knew no bounds when 
she saw Compton gn up first. \\'hat efFronterj' to thrust him- 
self before her hero ! Unt when, just as Compton wasnear- 
ing the top, his foothold gave way and he fell heavily upon 
the professor below, botli falling into the water, it seemed 
to her as if she were witnessing a murder. In that one 
terrible moment the flame of het love and her life seemed 
to flare up with one fierce spasm and then go out for ever 
in horrible darkness of nothingness and despair. .She gave 
a piteous scream. Her glass dropped from her hands over 
the bulwarks into the water, and she fell svvooning on the 
deck. So great was tlie excitement .it the moment that she 
lay for some minutes unnoticed. Then the doctor and one 
of the steu'ards carried her to the saloon, where they ap- 
plied restoratives. She lay quite insensible, but as she 
was breathing heavily and evenly, they left her, and re- 
turned to watch the attempt at rescue. 

There was another spectator who was only one degree 
less interested than Irene. That was Mrs. Irwin, She 
had been deeply impressed by the straightforward manli- 
ness of Mr. Compton, and attracted to him by his occult 
gifts. The incident of the wreck off the iceberg established a 
sympathy between them, and she felt naturally intensely 
interested in the rescue of the tail, red-haired, one-eyed 

The Castaways. 


man whom she had seen more than twelve hours before 
when they must have been distant nearly 200 miles. She 
(A-ouId have gladly gone in the boat, but it ivas idle pro- 
posing it. So she had perforce prepared to choose the 
more arduous task of witching while ComptoD risked his 
life to save the castaway. 

Mrs. Invin was of a practical natur;' amid all her dreams 
and mystic imaginings. She did not merely watch, she 
prayed, prayed with all the intensity of a passionate 
nature for the safety of She man for whom alone 
nhe felt reviving in her breast the [itormy emotions 
that she belie i'ed had been hushed for ever in 
her hu^^band's grave. " Something had gone snap 
inside," she used to say, " when she heard the 
clods fall on the coffin lid." She could never feel 
again as she felt in the glad old days when she 
wandered with her lover under the olive trees 
of the Riviera, or sat on the promontory rock of 
Monaco, and saw in the cool of the night the 
great moon shine double in sky and sea. All 
was dust and ashes within, and yet she felt, 
almost witli a sense of profanation, the quicken- 
ing throb of the old emotion as she watched Mr. 
Compton climb up the ice cliff. When he fell she 
cried, '■ O God, let it be the other one ! " for her 
quick nature never hesitated a moment to sacri- 
ficing the priifessor or a hecatomb of pro- 
fessors to save Compton. She felt as il her 
prayer was granted when Compton struggled to 
his ifeet and the professor ..^se nibbing his 
Bhouldai. Every step up Ine cllfi waf accom- 
panied by passionate prayer, the outpourings of 
b woman's \v\]\, so potent often for ill as to justify 
the witch's barrel, but this time employed to 
Mess, not to curse. 

The moment she saw them reach the boat in 
■afety, and pull off through the mist, her practical 
common-sense asserted itself. She bustled to 
the stes^ard and made him prepare the most 
conim'idious bcith in the ship for the reception 
bf John Thomas, supply warm blankets, and 
provide all manner of creature comforts. She 
brought out the steward of Mr. Compton's cabin, 
and induced him to provide plenty of warmed 
MTaps, and the doctor got ready every kind of 
medicament and cordial. 

When Compton stepped on tioard the ship, 
the impulsive Irish woman seized his hand with 
both of hers, and exclaimed : 

" Mr. Compton, Mr. Compton ! the Lord 
reward you for this day." 

He looked up at her glowing face and 
sparkling eyes, from which her whole soul 
was beami:.3 in admiration and worship, 
and then moved slowly towards his berth with- 
out saying a word. She accompanied him with 
the doctor. When he reached the door, he said : 

" It was a very near thing, Mrs. Irwin, nearer than 1 
ever care to be in again. 1 am laint. The doctor will 
look after me. Good-night." 

She seized his profr.!red hand, wrung it passionately, 
and rushed away. 

" Doctor," said Compton, slowly, " undress me, and let 
ict sleep." 

The doctor undressed him, but diJ not let him sleep. 
He chafed his frozen hands, he plied him with strong and 
heated cordials, and made him drink a cup of the best 
clear soup the cook could provide, and then, when at last 
after an hour spent in this way he was allowed to sleep, 
bU danger was passed. 

As for John Thoaias, he was cared for by the ahip*^ 
d;)Ctor. With skilful treatment and constant care life 
began to return, and by the morning he could speak. 

As for the professor, he slipped away in the confusion, 
and was making his way through the saloon to his berth 
when he was startled by seeing Irene, her long black 
hair streaming behind, her face pallid as death, her eyes 
swollen, her whole appearance that of one almost dis- 
traught. She did not seem ta ses him, but moved as if 


she wen; in a dream. They were in a narrow corndor 
where two could pass with difficulty. He was obliged to 
speak ; all wet as he was he could not allow her to spoil 
her'dress. " Riiss Vernon," he said, " do you not see me ? " 

She gave a frightened cry, turned to run, with horror 
on her countenance. 

The processor sighed for his cunning little instrtimcnt 
which measured emotion, and then, before Irene had tim« 
to nm two steps, he caught her hand. 

"Miss Vernon, this is a poor welcome," he said. 

Irene stopi-'ed instantly, turned, and retarded hia 

" Then — yo" — ^.Tf — not dead ? " 



From the Old World to the New. 






"No," he said, somewhat snappishly; "but I soon shall 
be if I 'cannot get ofT these vi'et tlothes." 

Then, to his immense dismay, with a hysterical laugh, 
poor Irene flung Iserself upon him, all dripping wet uith 
tee water, kissed him over and over again before he could 
get breath: 

" O professor, professor, I thought I saw you die ! 

The poor professor felt he would have given the whole 
world to have had his instrument in position. " It would 
have been tlie highi^st rvading on record," he said to 
himself. " The complexity of conflicting emotions would 
have put the instrument to a higher test than will ever 
recur again." 

■■ Brain fever, 1 fear," said he, as, grasping Irene firmly 
with both hands, he led her, talking incoherently about 
her hero, to her berth, where he delivered her over to the 
Stewardess, telling her to suramoa the doctor, aud keep 
note of her temperature. 

Tlien he turned to his own berth, and, before be took 
off his dripping garments, he fixed his instrument on his 
finger and tri«l to read the register. But it wai too 
fitful, or his arm was too numb viitfi the bruise on his 
shoulder, for its record to be valuable. So, calling tho 
steward, he undressed, ate a hearty dinner, and was 
soon in a sound sleep. But, before he tloxed off into 
unconsciousness, a new and unwonted sensation ot 
mingled regret and desire stole over him. 

■• Steward," he said, " give me jny instrument, 1 want 
to measure—" but before he finished the sentence, he had 
dropped otT to sleep. 

Cmafter IX.— The Threshold of the >fEW WoRto. 

After the rescue from tlie iceberg no incident of any im- 
portance diversified the usual routine of the voyage. 
The captain recovered his good humour when he found 
the fog lifted again before sunset, and he saw a straight 
course of open water before hira. That night the gam- 
blers, after making up the pool on the next day's run, 
found that it was necessary to keejt up the excitement of 
the day by novelties in betting. When once a craze is 
started, it runs apace. It began in one man offering to 
bet that the rescued castaway would die after alL This 
was taken several times over at even money. When the 
doctor appeared and gave a favourable report the odda 
went up two to one on his recovery, with lew takers, 
i hen they varied the bets. This time' it was how old he 
was. Then when he would first sit down with the cap- 
T" ^ J '°°*'' '" *he saloon ; in short, as is usual towards 
the end of a voyage when novelties are few, then- was 
nothing about the unfortunate John Thomas that did not 
form the subject of a wager. 

When morning came, John Thomas was pronounced 
out of danger, but with great probability of losing one foot 
from frost-bite. Mt. Compton was almost well. The 
prolessors left shoulder was sore and stiff from the blow 
Mused by Compton's fall. Irene was too weak t.i leave 
her berth. Her mind had wandered dunng the night 
V, hen she awoke she, too, took her breakfast in her cabin 

Tl^.T'!.^'"*'^ collected, with very little recollecUon of 
what had passed, but with an eager longjng, an unquiet, 
passionate craving to see the professor. As for Mrs 
Irmn, she was m the highest spirits. It «as a wondertui 
thing to her that she had the evidence at last that her 

h'v^'^r''"'*"".^"''^''^'- WhateverhTLnapped 
of o^e^ Sh! f ""8 'hat vibrates in response to the touch 
01 io\e. bhe loved Compton, that she was sure of ■ and 
rf unfortunately he did not retuir, her affectron, that! of 
course, was a misfortune. But compared with thci;! 

' if that s the wizard and 
very well-matched couple 
■"'-■""''- and broomsuckl 

covery of the power of loving it was a mere baeatetl* 
As a man who. after believing he had for everlost hi 
sight, rejoices when lie once more sees the light of th. 
blessed sun, even although he may never again see the 
particular landscape on which he feasts his ga^e, so Hti 
Irwin rejsiced that day. ^^ 

She flitted about here and there like a busy bee. She 
had long talks with Mr. Compton as they walked to and 
fro on the deck, the observed of all observers, 

"Well," said a deck lounger, 
that's the witch, they are a 
and very different from the warlocks 
riders of old." 

Gamblers sought her secretly to ask if she could foresee 
the winning number in next day's poo!. " Thank you," 
she said, '■ my gifts are not for the likes of you. Faith, 
you can cheat quite well enough as it is, without my 
coming to your assistance." 

And Rose— ivhere was Rose all this time? She wai 
still weak, too weak to be more than an hour a day on 
the deck in the sunshine, and very piteous it was to see 
her ivistfuUy gazing along the deck in search of ou 
dear familiar form, for which she looked and slwayi 
looked in vain. Mrs. Julia would not listen far a 
moment to the suggestion that be might be on hoai4 
She brought her the list of the cabin passengers, and 1 
showed her that there was no " Walter Wynne " men- 
tioned. But when she was asking the purser one day if 
he had ever heard the name, she was not a little startled 
to hear him say, " Walter Wynne, yes, I remember now. 
He was down sixth on the list for the places of ' disap- 
points.' We only had three places left vacant ac the hut 
hour, so we had to leave him behind." 

"Strange," said the good woman, "that he actually 
tried to come on this very ship. I had better not tell her. 
or she will break her poor little heart to think how near 
he actually was to coming on board." 

Still, notwithstanding her disappointment a new life and 
fresh hope seemed to hav« entered into her. She talked 
a good deal with Mrs. Julia about her father in Chicaga 
.\ telegi;tm, she said, would be waiting her at New York, 
.ind she hoped it would tell of his recovery. She couid 
hope for any good news now, slie said, aince her Walter 
had come back. Being an Intermediate, she could not be 
allowed in the part sacred to cabin pajsengers, or she 
would no doubt have found the doctor. As it was, Rose 
could only lie in her berth. 

And so it was that Rose lay and wondered day after 
day, night after night, how it was he came not again. 
She heard a good deal about Dr. Vernon, and how Iway 
lie was with the invalids and the children, but she took 
the most languid interest in any but the one for whom 
she looked who never came again. 

As the Majrslic passed the banks of Newfoundland a 
long trail of fog clung about the sea, through which they 
Steamed at full speed, sounding the fog- whistle almost 
continuously. Irene was quite well now. and spent 
every hour slie could, if not with the professor, theo 
within range of his voice. He was at first somewhat j 
bored by this dog- like devotion, but after a time he greW j 
accustomed to it. It was a new sensation for him to havoj 
a beautiful and sympathetic listener, who was n***^ 
offended at anything, and who only asked to be allowefl , 
the privilege of being subjected to the endless senet 
of moral and mental shocks whicii he administered 
impartially to all with whom he conversed. As for her, 
when Mrs, Wills said to her one day she wondered how 
she stood the disgusting and horrible things which the 
professor was in the habit of saying, Irene replied— 
" 1 love colour, bright colour, with vivid contrasts, foi 

The Threshold of the New World. 


any one bright colour would become monotonous. I long 
for variety, tor sauce, tor spiee. Tor anything and everything, 
that gives salt to existence. Your have ten command- 
ments I believe— or is it eleven ? I should only have one. 
' Thou shall not be bored.' But as it xvould have even 
less respect paid to it than the old decalogue, 1 suppose 
it would be no use. 1 hate drab and grey, and all these 
horrid mashed up neutral tints. Why should 1 live in this 
eternal grey fog, when outside there is tlie bright sun and 
the blue sky, and the myriad-coloured rainbow? You 
scold me for longing for thrills, or for any fresh aeusations. 
But what good is it to live unless you make life yield up 
the heights and the depths, and all the intensity of thought 
and feeling ? Life to me ii) riot worth living unless I have 
new experiences, and lots of them, yuaxitity is essential 
even if the quality is somewhat crude." 

" My dear Miss Vernon, said Compton, who was listen- 
ing, '■ you remind me of the Aissowa Arabs, who eat 
scorpions for a thrill, and swallow red hot coals just by 
way of a sensation." 

;• Dr. Glogoul is not a icorpion," said the pretty girl, 
drawing herself up indignantly. " He is the kindest- 
hearted man I ever met. His zeal for human vivisection 
ib the purest philantliropy I ever heard of, and he liter- 
ally spends his life in studying how to do good to mankind." 

■' No doubt," said Mrs. Wills drily. " I suppose you have 
heard of bis scheme lor settling the Irish difficulty by 
transfusing sheeps blood into the veins of the turbulent 
and excitable Celts. He ivas quite full of that the other 

■' Oh,' said Irene, " that is one of the least of his 
schemes. He was telling me the other day of a new tre- 
panning machine by which he thinks it will be possible to 
root out all the abnormality which is the root of vice, 
crime, and misery." 

" What is his particular scheme ?" asked Compton. 

" Oh," said Irene, enthusiastically, ■■ every baby within 
six weeks of birth is to be sent to a State phrenologist. If 
he condemns its skull a<i hopelessly abnormal, ths baby 
is fed from a lovely feeding bottle containing mother's 
milk sweetened with a sedative so powerful and painless 
the child never wakes again. If however, there ii only 
sufficient abnormality to admit of correction, the cliild 
is subjected to a series of surgical operations under anses^ 
thctics by which the great law of tiie general aseraj^e is 
made the rule for each individual Excess of brain in 
the lobes of criminalism wilt be redressed by raising the 
skull over the faculties of spirituality and conscientious- 
ness, benevolence, etc., and vice v^rjii. Trepanning 
I'sed to be constantly practised in the Neolithic age. Why 
not now? I asked. Why not graft brain at once? But 
he said it would probably be fatal. So he contetits him- 
self with remodelling the skull to give the brain room to 
grow into normality." 

" Well, ' said Mrs. Wills, " of all Vmng beings you and 
the professor are the last whom I should have suspected 
of heading a crusade against the abnormal.' 

" Oh, but the professor is the most self-saciifieing of 
men," exclaimed Irene. " He frequently says, ' My mission 
in life is to destroy the abnormal which is my exclusire 
study. When my work is done, I shall have no more 
object for which to live.' But there he is. I must 
leave you, for we have to hypnotise the Calahrian 

As she hurried away Compton muttered soUo i'oce, "If 
these two really marry, there is no fear of the immediate 
extinction of the types of the abnormal.' 

" Mr. Compton," said Mrs, Wills, ■• do 3'ou think Miss 
Vernon would allow her babies to be treated like tliat— 
tupposing that she ever had any ? " 

" If she would, madam, said Compton, " I sincerely hop* 
she never may have any. But she would not. Giils are 
as different from matrons as chalk from cheese. The school- 
girl, who in our grandmother's days ate slate pencils and 
drank vinegar, now poses li la Bashkin^eff, and takes uf 
the wildest immoral nonsense that is lat)elled ■ Advanced.' 
But the cradle deals with all that flatulent balderdash as 
the strong east wind dealt with the frogs of Egypt 
Maternity is at once the salvation and the education of 
your sf X. I could wish that couple no better corrective of 
their fantasy than for them to become Mr. and Mrs. 
Glogoul, with a colony of little Glogouls rising up to cor- 
rect their abnormality by a littk- common -sense.' 

The fog was left behind, and soon the letting on board 
centred not upon the length of the days run, but upon the 
pilot boat ^vhich »vas already expected with feverish 
anxiety as the first tangible proof of their approach to the 
Ke*v World. They had not been six days out from 
Queenstown, but tliey had already the feeling that they 
had somehow lost touch with the universe. There was 
not a newspaper on board ship that was not six days old. 
In England the Ministrj- might have fallen, or France might 
have declared war, or the Pope might have died, or the 
German [Imperor ha\e started for Chicago— they knew 
nothing of anything. Hence the sight of the pilot boat or 
the far horizon was an event of immense importance. Ail 
the New York pilot boats have great numbers on theii 
sails, and for days before they are sighted books are made, 
and bets laid as to what number the pilot boat would beat 
that awaited the Majtshc. The number, which was IB, 
was no sooner settled, and the stakes handed over to the 
ninsjer, than betting began ane\v as to the person of the 
pilot. He was as yet too far off to be seen, and bets wer* 
freely cvchangcd as to his height, age, the colour of his 
hair, etc., etc, tvhtch kept up the excitement until he 
was on board. 

After that, the near approach of disembarkation did 
away with the need for any further gambling. Bags and 
boxes were overhauled, preparation made to receive the 
customs officers, competing routes were critiratly can- 
vassed, and there was everyivjiere that charming atmos- 
phere of bustle that must have been nowhere more pleasisr- 
ably appreciated than in the AriC the day after the dove 
returned \\ith the olive leaf. 

The ship swept past Kire Island, and soo.i the passen- 
gers began to catch their first glimpse of their destination. 

Mrs. Julia Stood with Rose on the deck and endeavoured 
to cheer her with many assurances of good fortune. Kosc 
was grave and sedate, although as white and as frail as a 

"Adelaide." she said, "I have seen him on this ship. 
If I leave this ship without meeting him I shall never mevt 
him again. To be so neat* and yet so far ; to cross the sea 
in the same steanrer, and yet never to come together, 
would pro\'c that between us there is an unfathomable 
abyss. The sands are running fast in the hour-glass. If 
1 do not see him before we land I ! " 

" My dear Rose," said the matter-of-fact littSe widow, 
"do not torture ycisidelf by idle imagination. I have 
proved to you a dozen times o\er tiiat he is not on board 
the Majestic, but you shall see every saloon passenger 
leave the siiip. if jou don't see him then, dearie, 
you will believe that it was all a hallucination, won't 
you ? " 

" You have been very bind to me, Adelaide," said Rose, 
simply. '■ For seven years no one but you has ever called 
me Rose, and nov*-, just when I have learnt to love you, 
and to prize your love, ^ve separate." 

" We shall meet in Chicago at the World s Fair, 
where I hope you will find yoiu" fatner quite better," said 


From the Old World to the New. 

.Jto. Julia, brightly, and Iheii moved off to make ready for 
the dreaded customs inspection. 

"Youne^l not be alamred,' said the professor, w-ho 
wii Standing by Irene. " The officers will not trouble 
™umuch Thiy will ask if you ha^•e dm.ahle goods in 
ixcess of the personal luggage allowed to each passenger. 
You answer no. sign declaration to that effect, and then 
wait till the landing to let them have the run ol your 
boxes. If the offi.^er suffers fiom indigestion he will turn 
them inside out ; if he has breakfasted comfortably, and 
feels at ease with the world and with himself, he wjl! 
merely rumple a few frocks, smile graciously, and then 
pass your trunks. Whether you get a good digestion or a 
bid one inside >'our particular customs officer no one can 
say. It is an even chance." 

"Arc you joking, professor?" asked Mrs. Wills, who 
was busily engaged in doing up Pear Is dolls into a man- 
ageable package, much to the distress of the little lady, 
who was sure *■ Kitty -vould be smuddercd, she wrould. 
She was crying so. She could not breathe." 

■■ Madam, " said he, " I never joke. In a well-regulated 
jtate, no one but dyspeptics pawed as incurable^ should be 
allowed to act ^s customs officers. Sometimes, it must be 
admitted, the New York officers display suci; ,: higli ave- 
rage of incirility as to suggest tlut the dyspeptic test has 
been rigidly enforce^J." 

" What ate the dutiable articles?" asked Irene. 

" Pretty nearly everything." said the professor, " that 
you are not able conscientiously to swear you requite for 
your own personal >isc during j-our visit. If you have any- 
thing as a present for a friend it is an import, and must 
Ajntributc to the exchequer of Uncle Sam on the spot, 
which, being interpreted, means that you pay the officers 
here from thirty to seventy-five per cent, on the value of 
the article in order that the manufacturers of similar 
goods mthin the States may continue to charge 
high enough prices to make their fortunes. The chief items 
:jpon which passengers have to pay duty are the following : 
Tobacco, photographic cameras, cutler)*, new clothes, etc., 
'tc, etc" 

Few Mfshts are more welcome to .he traveller than the 
diitant view of New York. The approach is not pjirticu- 
jrly beautiful, but the charm of contrast betwec.i the 
:rowded narrows, with the shore on cither side, and craft 
jf CTery description passing, or being passed, and the wide 
expanse of the lonely Atlantic, is sufScient to impress it 
pleasurably on the mind. Tlie sun was setting as the 
Mojfstic finished her run, and its fading rays lit up the 
distant spires of the Empire City. Then night fell, and the 
stars came out, and from the Statue of Liberty a great 
tkbbon of electric light streamed loith over the water. It a vestibule worthy the entrance hall of the Republic. 

The customs ofScers had almost completed taking their 
declarations. A whole Jiorde of inten'iewers had boarded 
llie ship on the first whisper of the romantic story of the 
rescue from the iceberg, and before the ship was moored 
at the wharf, half-a-dozen special editions of the evening 
papers were selling in the streets, with the Siory of the 
rescue of John Thomas from the iceberg in mid-Atlantic. 

Mrs, Irwin was unanimously deputed to give the story 
to the press, and the way in which she discharged her 
•difficult duty, when confronting the pencils of a score or 
more of the sharpest interviewers' in New York gave Mr, 
'Compton quite a new conception of her capacity Mrs 
Irmn, who was self-possessed, told her story perfectly and 
•v'.'hen one lucklws reporter ventured to question the accu- 
■racy of her story, she simply extinguished him, to the im- 
mense entertainment of all present, for she was sarcastic as 
^vell as kind-hearted, and when it came to close quarters 
*here were iew who were a match for her in repartee, or 

the franchise brittah which tells most where it ;. i 
expi'cted. It was agreed beforehand that nothino u- 
be said about the occult side of it, and as thb ^- 
known to half-a-dozen persons, it was not' difiicj^ ° "ij 
tl e credit for the rescue was given to tiie captain anrt i^ 
not because he deserved it so much as to encoura»» tk 
others. Mrs. Invin had protested against this at fi?« 
the ground that historic truth required the facts to be' 
out as lliey actually occurred, and that it was ■wi\>mt 
gii-e tiie credit properly belonging to Mr. Compton to^h« 
spalpeen of a captain, who had done nothing at alL' M 
Compton overruled her objection, saying, " If the credit U 
due to me, then it is mine to bestow where 1 please I J 
it to the captain ; it will make it easier for those oi om 
helpers who may come after." 

So Mrs. Irrtin told the story minus its telepathic acctj. 
sories, and encircled the captain of the Majmk with such 
a halo of gltjry that the Messrs. Ismav iiicreas,d hia 
salary, the Directors of the other lines grew green wo 
unvy and ordered their captains at all risks to rcscut 
some castaways from icebergs, even if they had m 
plant thera there thecssflvcs. Mrs, Irwin's conscicitcs 
smote her sore, but she went through with het t«k 
to universal satisfaction— universal, minus one. F« 
Irene was heard to observe, as she read the papers thf 
next day at the Fifth Avenue Hotel, that " the stor)- vvu 
entirely wanting in perspective; for no one on reading it 
would imagine what she who saw everything with her oiva 
eyes could declare to be the fact—that the real hero fA the 
whole adventure was not the captain, nor yet Mr. Comptoa) 
whose name was quite absurdly pushed to the front, bat 
the illustrious Professor Glogoul. to whose heroic exer- 
tions and supreme scientific skiQ the rescue was really 

It was about eight o'clock in the Friday e\-enlog wheo 
they sighted the land. It was a little after twelve wbco 
the great ship was brought up alongside the wharf, the 
final adjustment beint; ftTectcd by the bull-headed steanw 
boats, which, aiding the alternate working of her ~ 
screws, soon brought her into position. 

As it was past midnight, the landing and the examin 
tion of the luggage was postponed till the morntr.: A 
few passengers, in light marching order, in deadly li:i^te ti] 
make connection with trains across the Continent, vttxl 
allowed to land, but, \vilh these exceptions, the compiny 
reniained on JK«rd all night. 

There wen.- many wakeful occupants of the berths that 
night. The sudden cessation of the throbbing of th( 
engines, the subs.itulion of perfect motionless stillness foi 
the heave and roll of the Atlantic, were in themselves suffi- 
cient to keep many awake. But, in addition to this, there 
was all the restlessness of highly sti-ing expectation. 
There were few Americans on board. Most of the pas- 
sengers were in the New World for the first time. The 
majority hop)ed to begiii life anew, and were naturally foil 
of anxiety about the conditions of their new eiisteno. 
They were now close upon the threshold of the promised 
land. By every berth sat Hope and Feaj, and Imaginatioa, 
borrowing a wing from each, fluttered tremulously .irouno. 

Compton and Wynne were long in retiring to r«t. 
The professor was sleeping soundly enough, undisturbed 
by the unwonted silence In coming up the harbour he 
had been engrossed by Irene, who had seldom looked 
more radiant. In a lovely white dress which adapted itself 
to every movement of her graceful form, with a creamy lace 
mantilla hghtly tbrowii over her head, where one red rose- 
bud glowed in her raven hair, she seemed, even to the uor 
sentimental professor, a vision of almost ideal beauty. Ha 
was conscious of an unusual stir of obscure feeling, and 
he uoted with complacency the admiring and partly-enviouf 




The Threshold of the New World. 


tooks vTith which he was regarded by tlie men ivho saw 
them standing in the evening aunJight. He fcit he ought 
to say somctliing rompUmcntary, but his tongue, long un- 
used to any but scientific tera;s. did not lend itself tasily 
■to t!ie softer phrases of the drauing-room. He made ati 
effort, and failed, Irene was not unconscious of the effect 
which she was producing, especially on him. She encour- 
aged his lame and stammering effort by a smile. It gave 
him courage, as of new ivine. 

"Miss Irene," he said, recklessly; "I gucs5, if we 

saying something that would ruffle the plumage of thil 
beautiful bird of paradise, with its caressing ways. He 
looked at her again, with a glance that was pathetic with 
the speechless misery of the dumb. Then, making a great 
effort, he said,— 

" Miss Vernon, the bell rings at six in the morning. It 
is about time to turn in." 

Irene flushed, and moved towards the saloon. The pro- 
fessor fullowed, feeling miserable, but about as able to say 
what he felt as if she understood r jthing but Chinese. 


dad the universal self-registering thermometer of thecmo- 
lions, it wou'd bid fair to break the record to-night for ad- 
miration and envy, and," he went on awkwardly, "so far 
as I am concerned, I admit that I cannot conceive of 
any instrument which would register the height it would 
tave to record in my particular case." 

Irene appreciated the effort, but she could not resist the 
temptation to say, stsmewhal archly, — 

" Really, professor, and which of the emotions you specify 
•is it that would l>e so immeasurable ? "" 

The poor professor looked at her as he had never looked 
.at man or woman. It was a good opening, but he had ex- 
hausted his resources of compliment. A dim sense of the 
absurdity of silence struggled with as vague a dread of 

She was put out, he saw plainly ; and yet, as she turned 
to bid him " Good-night," the glow of resentment still 
lingering in her face, he felt he had never seen anything 
more beautiful in his life. As he took her little hand, he 
held it awkwardly bet^^'cen both of his. and said, — 

"Good night. Miss Vernon, I think," he hesitated, and 
she withdrew her hand as he opened the saloon, "I think. 
Miss Vernon, that I begin to understand something more 
of the religion of the Greeks than I ever learned at 

As the professor climbed into his berth that night he 
said nothing to himself but he thought the more. Dim, 
confused dreams of stately temples reared to the Goddest 
of Love and Beauty flitted before his eyes, and, somehow, 

Fro.m the Old World to the New. 

I . 





the status of Aphrodite in alt the changes of his vision bore 
'''L''rtr^^^.g^"ady:°s;r".^s even better satisfied 
^afhhe^f than ufu^l "I have had tnany dec aia- 
t^ons • she s«d, " but none that chimed me as much as 
hii To ordt-r me to bed like a dog one mmutc, 
he next to pav me that lovely compliment about 
Greeks ! what a man it is ! He is an inexiiaustib e galvi 
batterv- of surprises. With him I am always on the switch- 
back, and one never know-s just when the joil is gomg to 

"Far'''diff^-rent were the thoughts which absorbed the 
attention of Compton and the doctor, as they pa. the 
deck of the steamer long after all the other passengers 
had gone below. 

Dr. Wynne, now that tlie voyage \ras ending, was very 
sad He had not seen Rosy. For him that was the 
forlorn hope that had lured him across the Atlantic. Now 
that the port was gained, he felt that it was but another 
case of "Love's labour lost." But for the appart-nt 
absurdity of the thing, he was more than half-minded 
to take the next boat back to Liverpool, u-ithout gomg to 
Chicago at all. An inexpressible sadnesi weighed down 
his spirits. The glimpses of domestic lif ; he had gained 
when romping with Pearl and explaining things to the boys 
intensified his feelings of discontent and unrest. Was 
it to be ever thus ? Why should he alone be shut out Irom 
Paradi»e. the door of which had been so long locked in his 
face r But the key seemed to be lost , lost more hopelcssl)' 
than ever. What was the use of keeping up the vain quest 
for that which never could be found .■' And j-st what was 
there in Ufe worth living for if he found it not ? Better the 
entUesj search which kept at least some glimmering of 
hope alive in his soul than the abaodoDmeat to the outer 
darkness of endless night. 

While the doctor was chewing the cud^ of such bitter 
fancies, his companion, equally silent, was full of very 
different broodings. 

The lights of New York, dimly visible through the soft 
trt-ilight of June, seemed a mystic hieroglyph, in which he 
read a prophecy of things to come. The city lay a dark, 
shapeless, indistinguishable mass, its very extent but 
imperfectly outlined by the twinkling lights that could be 
faintly discerned *far up the island. Across the water 
glided the great ferrj'-boats, plying ceaselessly between 
the densely crowded banks. Their wliistl;s, from time to 
time, could be heard in the distance like tiie lowing of 
cattle on the prairie. Here and there, an electric light 
shed a brilliant riband of white light across ihe gloom. 

After a time he spoke. 

'■ Doctor," he said. " do you think the English race will 
ever awaken to a consciousness of its destinies ? " 

•Who knows?" said the doctor, with a laugh. ''Is 
there much hope that the race ivill realize «'hat such 
coropoaent parts as that city yonder so utterly ignores ? " 

'•New York," said Compton, "is hardly an EngUsh- 
■peaking city. It is the cosmD-polilico-polvglot antechamber 
of the New W*orld. You could carve a Carman city out of it 
more populous tlian Hamburg, and an Irish town t*icc 
the size of Cork, and still there would remain a more 
heterogeneous composite amalgam of peoples, and multi- 
tudes, and nations, and tongues than is to be found in any 
city in the whole world.' 

" London has a fairly large foreign cotitingent," objected 
the doctor. 

'■London is English." replied Compton, '•through and 
through. Numerically strong as are its foreign elements, 
they arc hardly more m the immense current of English 
me than the pollution which a stream gathers in its course 
through the moorland and farm. New York rather resem- 

e Thames below Barking, heauly Uden with 
of the capital. It is the Cloaca Maxima nf P,,. 

bles the 

sewage oi mcwaiJuai. ii 13 IDC i^ioaca Majtimanf i:„ ~" 

at the very portals of the New World." '""'^ 

"Aie other American cities so much better'" a»k»A 
the doctor. " We hear more about New York, becauw^ 
is the window through \vliich the Western Republic Ig^ 
out upon the Old World. But although some vhat woS 
than the average, it is not much worse." 

" You exaggerate, " said his companion, " although thei* 
is reason enough for pessimism. But it is ]nst because 
things are in this evil pass that 1 feel within me the a^ 
rings of a new hope. On the surface you may say tnik 
enough that this people is wholl/ given up to materialjsi 
and to covetousaess. which is idolatry. But there is j. 
spirit moving upon the face of the waters, and again, as it 
old time, it will result in the genesis of a new world." 

'• I confess 1 don't see much promise of its comiM," 
said Dr. Wynne, who, however, was beginning to be rousk'd 
by the fervour and passion of his friend. ' 

" Perhaps it is because you do not take the trouhk to 
look for it, ' said Compton. " But if you mil look belmv the 
surface, you will find everywhere in America a deep 
although vague unrest, a blind groping after a new ideal, 
a consciousness, stronger than you dream of, that even an 
infinity of dollars cannot feed a hungry^ souL" 

" Unrest," said the doctor, " undoubtedly. Labour 
brutalised conlronta Capital, striking with the cruelty of 
fear. Here and there a few dreamers, tike Bellamy, but 
for the vast expanse of the continent, are there eveo ai 
many light points as we see in the city that stretches 
darkly before us ? " 

" What is that city ? " said Compton. '• It is the city of 
millionaires — ^nay, of billionaires. And what is Ihit 
enormous wealth to the individual who inherit it? 
A burden too great to be borne. Increase of wealth 
up to a certain point means increase of coii)r>rt, 
increase of power. Beyond that point it means for its 
possessor increase of burden without compensatiou. A 
man may spend ^ too or _/Ji,coo a week in luxurious living, 
or in lavish expenditure, but beyond the latter sum few 
millionaires ever go. But the revenues of many far excMd 
that sum, and every penny of that excess, although it mif 
bring them the miser s sordid exultation, brings with it tte 
miser's fears, the miser's foreboding. ' 

"That i'- all very well,' said the doctor, " but e^-en if it 
be granted ihat the millionaire is of all men most mi«f- 
able. I douiot see how the misery of the millionaire, which 
after all most millionaires seem to support well enough, 
is to minister to the making of the MiUenmum. 

" Wait a little," replied Compton. " The bilhonaire is a 
new portent of civilisation. The race ol millionaires by 
inheritance is but newly cslablished. Can you imagine a 
more tragic contrast between the boundless potentialities 
of power and beneficence that lie glittering as a mirage 
before the eyes of a young millionaire of generous 
enthusiasm and philanthropic instincts, and the treadfflill 
round of mere hoarding to which they arc all doomed. 
I could point out to you millionaire after milhonaire who 
left the University longing to do something, or at least to 
be somebody, who arc now nothing more or less than ««■ 
keys in breeches, the %vhole of their hfe consumrt 
in the constant worry of seeing that their enormous in- 
vestments do not deteriorate, and the not less arduous 
task of investing, to the best advantage, their surpM 
revenue. What a life for an immortal soul ! They ire 
like the men-at-arms in the old wars, so laden with their 
ovvn armour, their strength was used up in merely cob ve)-- 
ing themselves about, that they had none left with wBicn 
to fight. Their imagination is crushed by their millions. 
A political career is barricaded against them by ^itom 

On the Threshold of the New World. 


mosey bags. A crowd of parasites and beggars swarm 
round them like mostjuitocs round a weary wanderer in a 
Southern swamp. They can do nothing, dare nothing, 
risk nothing. They sit in the Republic like golden 
Buddhas. crcss-Iegged in an eastern temple, eternally con- 
templating their gilded paunch." 

" That may be said," the doctor replied, " but it is easier 
to see the evil than to foresee the remedy." 

" My friend," said Compton, '■ there is a beginning of a 
great rei,-ival of civic religion in this New World. A 
Church which has forgotten man stands in the midst of a 

"No," said Compton, "I do not think that will be 
needed. For the revived Church, in the fervour of its new 
love, will startle the world by the success of its Mission 
to Millionaires." 

They were silent for a time. 

" It's a sublime dream," said the doctor. 

" It is none the worse for that," said Compton. " Moat 
of the best things we have began by being dreams." 

The ne.>:t morning at six. the passengers were summoned 
to the last breaklast before landing. The taking of de- 
clarations from the eimtnms was almost complete. After 




world which has forgotten God. Through the apparently 
dry and sapless branches into which they have endlessly 
sub-divided Christendom, there is an upward pulsing of a 
new life. For, lo ! the winter is past, tlie -ain is over and 
gone, the flowers appear oo the earth, the time of the 
singing of birds is come, the voice of summer is heard in 
She land. The new impulse which the worship of God 
is receiving towards the Sen ice of Man will create endless 
demands upon those who have to supply the necessities 
of those who ha\'e not. and when that day conies, we shall 
discover that each of these billionaires is but a money- 
bag, which will be open for the necessities of God's poor. ' 
" Which the poor will open with dynamite, if need be," 
laid the doctor. 

breakfast they would stream across the gangway into 
the wide, wide world. 

Rose, with heart obstinately sanguine, although some- 
times ferling as if her last hope was flickering in the 
socket, took her stand close to where she could see 
every cabin passenger as he crossed the ganpi'ay to 
the wharf. She was alone, and she leant wearily against 
a projecting rail. All were busy about their own affairs, 
their own packages, their own settlements with the bed- 
room steward, the bath-room attendant, the deck steward, 
and all those for whom tips from half-a-crown to ten 
shillings are expected at the close of a voyage. • Thers 
was a rush to obtain American money in exchange for 
English at the purser's office, but the virise and prudent 



From the Old World to the New. 


rho had supplied themselves before the steamer had 
tighled the ffij'hook lightship «owbega« to leave the 

"''S« l,.!ia was slill struggling in the throes of packing 

?irS passed out alone, not caring to face Irene so soon 
i"« th;'^c^e of last night. ComptoQ followed shortly 

Wills to carry little 
and to take charge of the 

after the scene 

Dr. Wynne had promised Mrs. 
Pearl across the gang-plank, and I 
™ungest boy during ttic process of luggage u.spoct.on. 
Irene had atlired her=ielf in one of the smartest of walkmi; 
dresses, and produced for the occasion the prettiest hat 
she had in afl her store. At breakfast she said to the 
doctor. "Nov, sir. pray remember that 1 have not h<-en 
exacting during the voyage. I shall require your cousinly 
services on landing." .„ 

■' I shall no; fail you, " he replied, gravely, " but you \vi 1 
have to take my arm. as 1 hare promi.sed to carry Pearl, 
and also to take charge of Fred. And 1 ihalii need you 
mote than you need me, you see. for I have unfortuiately 
broken my glasses, and since my illness at Hamburg I 
am almost as short-sighted as a bat. You must, therefore, 
personally conduct your cousin across the gang^vay. _ 

"Really'." said she, laughing, "we sliall be quite a 
family party." 

As it was aTTaug)ed, so it came about. The passen- 
gers were now streaming across the gangway in an unend- 
ing stream. Little Pearl was hoisted upon the doctor' s 
Bhouldets. Fred, his round eyes full of wonder, firmly 
grasped the doctor's left hand. Irene rested her hand ■ 
upon his right arm. Mrs. Wills with Tom came b.;hiod. 
In the crowd the party got separated, and did not meet 
again until they vrere on the wharf 

On and on and on poured the stream of life. Rose, 
supporting herself as best she could upon the rail ajainst 
which she wss leaning, gazed with eyes intent upon every 
one who stepped upon the ptatik. Some hundreds had 
passed, ami she was dazed and weary with watching for 
one who came not, when suddenly she heard a laughing 
voice she remembered only too well. Her heart nearly 
■topped, but raising herself to her full height, she gazed 
with feverish anxiety in the direction whence she heard 
the voice. Again she heard it. There was no mistake. 
It bad deepened samewhat Siiice that June day by the 
Avon, but she would havt Known it among the ronlti- 
ludir.ous voii'cs of the whole earth. As it drew nearer a 
Btrange, indefinable terror seized her, almost chokiog her 
breo: 1, Presently she heard it again, almost close at 
hand, and although from her position she could not sec 
the speaker, she could distinguish the words, and every 
Byllable sank like molten lead into her brain. She clung 
convulsively to the rail, and listened as one might to the 
words of her death-warrant. For the voire was saying : — 

■• Sit light, little Peari ! Hold on, I will not let you fall. 
That's a brave little pet! Now Fred, keep tight hold of 
my band. ' 

Almost as she heard the last word, Walter, her Walter, 
stepped on to the gang-plank. There was no mistake ; it 
was he, just as she had seen him that night. But a chubby 
htde girl waa seated on his shoulders, with her hands 

Tl^ij ^'^ "*''''" ^ ^^^''-'^'^ '''"*^ ^y- "''''' beautiful 
curls, held his hand, and hanging on his arm, a stylishly- 
dressed, beautiful lady ^ They ,vere so close to her she 
CouliJ almost have toucu.;d them. As he turned to step 
on the plank she looked straight into his eyes. But there 
w-as no ar.swenng look of recognition. He turned his 
pack, and walked down the gangway. 

■' Now Pearl," he said, "be a brave big girlie, and show 
mamma bow well you can ride I " 

Rose heard no more. Everj-thing swam before hti 
eyes. A great dizzying darkness seemed to swallow her 
up, and she fell forward upon the rail with the piufu! 
wailing cry :— 

" Oh, my God ! my God ! " 

Chapter X.— The Re-birth of Hope. 
When the passengers found themselves upon the wbarF^ 
their luggage was piled up in sections, alphabeticallr ' 
numbered. This secured the immediate sub division of 
the luggage into twenty lots, and. being so sub-divided it 
was comparatively easy to identify your own property 
The owners who had painted their boxes some glaiini 
colour, such as red and yellow, were the luckiest, but in J 
any case there was li.tle delay. Whether or cot theJ 
dyspeptics were off duty, or whether the influx of visitotJ 
to the World's Fair made the officers more than usually] 
gracious, there was very little ruthless rummaging in the 
passengers' luggage, and even Miss Irene's lavish promiofl 
of dinner and ball dresses passed without notice. There 
was, however, an hour or more spent on the wharf, but 
the delay was pleasant enough. The early morning air 
was delightfully fresh, the scene was new, and whether 
regarded from a scientific or merely from a human point of 
vic\v. the debouching of another regiment of the invading 
European was full of interest The professor, who had 
rejoined Irene, was chiefly concerned in noticing the steer- 
age passengers. As they came ashore, he was lareful to 
point out one and another who, in any well regulated 
state, would not be allowed to land. 

" Mark his head," he would say. " There is the tj-pe of 
a bom criminal. That man has his head full of the genn» 
of all manner of dishonesty and fraud. 'Vou could only 
cure him by decapitation. Before Uncle Sam has done with 
him and his progeny, he will cost us more than would hare 
provided for him in frugal comfort to the end of his life, 
in his native land. What a farce it is ! " he continued, 
bitterly. " We turn back the penniless pauper, be he never 
so industrious and honest ; we turn back the sufferers from ] 
any epidemic disease that affects the body, and yet v,t 
allow the greatest continent in the world to be o\-emin 1 
the moral refuse and human sweepings of Europe, ivitlj 
full and sovereign right to give their decayed nndcrimiQ^ 
organism a new lease of life, by crossing with the strong 
and less debilitated stocks of our spacious homestead.' 

The professor was never so eloquent as when on his 
favourite hobby, and he was quite willing to stand on 
the wharf all day like the cattle sorter at the Union 
Stockyard in Chicago, and classify the immigrant "fM™ 
slaughter," "for fattening " or " for export to the west^H 
"There is not enough phlegm," he said regretfully. "Too^™ 
much nerves, too little beef. Oh, for a few broad-bottomed 
Dutchmen ! We shall have to contract for all Dutch 
criminals and practise transfusion of blood on the largest 
scale if our people are to last. They are pining down tc 
the Red Indian type, and, like the red man, they will perish 
before a tougher, beefier race that has mastered the secret 
of repose." _jB 

Irene at last got tired of waiting. " How much tong^S 
are you going to stand there, "she asked, ''when the officer 
is worrying Lr your declarations ? You will have to sign 
three separate papers before tliey let your instruments 
through, and even then 1 am afraid you will have some 

Compton had already despatched his business. But he 
liagered watching the steam ferry-boats plying in tbt nvw. 
the great oveihead beam rising and falling conspicuously 
before the ej-es of all men. 

■' Look," said Compton to Mrs. Irwin, who had ap- 

i \ 






From the Old World to the New. 

r I 


nr.«c-hed him to Say good-bye, " in lliis country even 
re'SmrginesSLh^sart^ng themselves Even^^ 
b America must be «. A./i/««-even the p.stan-rod of a 

^"^I'^t: to say good-bj-e, Mr. Comptoix," said Mr. Invin, 
Kand to thank you for all you have done and said on the 
vovaw It is rare indeed to meet a man who lives hke 
Tou OT t«o worlds at once. Most, with your gift on the 
astral plane, turn silly in Iheir own affairs. But with you 
it is dilTerent. Good-bye, and thank you." 

•■Good-bye, Mre. Irvna," said Mr. Compton, "but re- 
member the Secret of the Telepath. If at any time you 
ha\-e anything you wish to say to me ; it matters nt.t 
where you are, nor what hour of day or night, my hand will 
write your message the following noon. By-the-bye, 
where are you going ? " 

'■ To Chicago direct by the New York Central ; and 


"To Chicago to-morrow by the Pennsyh-annia route. 
We shall perhaps meet at the Fair. Bern wyage. ' 

By this time most of the luggage had been attended to, 
and handed over to the Exprwss officer who undertook 
its delivery to the respective destinations. 


Compton took the Elevated Railway, carrying only a 
light hand-t)ag. He intended to engage a rt»om and 
medical attendant for John Thomas, ivho, although capable 
of being moved, was still quite helpless, and then he would 
return to the wharf witli a carriage to transport him to bis 

Outside the whatf stood several hackmen waiting for 

" Don't you think," said Mrs. Wills to the doctor, who 
had handed over his cousinly duties to the professor, 
" that we had better take a cab, and drive straight to the 
Victoria Hotel. It would be simpler, and it cannot cost 
much, as the distance, according to the map, is only two 

The doctor hailed s cabman. 

" Take this lady and children to the Victoria Hotel." 

" The Victoria ^otel," said the man, laying great stress 
on the aspirate. 

" Yes," said the doctor ; " I will follow immediately, as 

'' -J t ^^^^^ "^^^'^ "^^ '^^ '^ ' ^°^^ *™>' Ta-ta, Pearl," 
said he to the baby, who was beginning to fret about her 
doll, which, she was sure, was being " scumfitted " in the 

The professor drove off to deposit Miss Vernon at the 
tilth Avenue Hotel, intending to rejoin Compton in the 

quieter quarters selected for the recovery of Mr Th 
The doctor took a tram that passed near his hotel**"^ 
ver>' soon the wharf was almost cleared of cabin-Da'«»l 
gers. i«»Mii- 

But Mrs. Julia had not yet left the steamer As eanA 
fortune would have it, she was following very close lieh^ 
the doctor when Rose uttered her piteous crv- and Ml 
forward on the deck. She heard it, looked round and 
seeing Rose, at once left the procession going ashore anrt 
flurried to the prostrate form. Rose at first did m 
speak. She was not weeping ; she lay as if stunned bv 
a pole-axe. ' 

" Rose dear," said Mrs. Julia, " let me help you to x 
cabin. You will be better there." 

Finding that she did not move, the kindly widow sum. 
moned a steward who was standing near, on tlie look-oul 
for parting tips, and between them they helped, or lather 
carried Rose to a state-room. She was deathly pale, acd 
quite conscious, but she seemed to liave lost all voUtion or 
power to move or speak. The steivard brought her some 
brandy ; Mrs. Julia plied her smelling-salts. Rose feebly 
put them away. 

" No," she whispered, " it is not that." 

"What is it, then, poor dear? "said she, soothingly. 
" You need not wait," she added to the stewKd, who 
needed no second bidding. 

Nothing could exceed the kindness with which the 
widow devoted herself to Rose. She made her he down 
on the sofa. She insisted upon her drinking some nourish- 
ing soup, and a glass of old champagne. She smoothed 
her forehead, and in haif-an-hour the poor stricken woman 
seemed to regain possession of her faculties. All this time 
she had never wept. Her eyes were hard and fixed, 
her lips bloodless, her face pinched and shrunk. She 
raised herself from the couch, and stood up with a great 

" Rose dear," said her friend, " you are better now." 

" Yes, thank you," she said, with a voice so strained and 
hollow, Mrs, J ulia could not repress a httle start of sut< 

Rose continued with forced calm^" Adelaide, you ha\-e 
been very good to me. You Cire my only frieDO. But E 
cannot tell even you what has happened. It is worse tbao 

Her voice trembled, and she bit her under lip. Then, 
recovering herself, she said, — 

" Come, it is time we were going ashore." 

They crosacd the gang plank, and stood oq the wharf 
waiting for their luggage to be examined. 

" Now sit there," said Mrs. J ulia, " and I will go to the 
office and see if there is a telegram for you." 

Presently she retunicd saying, " There is no telegram 
for you at all, nor any letter.' 

Rose looked at her for a moment, and said, " No tele- 
gram I What name did you ask for 't " 

" Why, Thistle, of course," replied the widow. " Rose 

Rose said, " That is the name I took when I left home. 
My real name is Thome. I will go for the telegram." 

Presently she came back with a telegram in her hand 
" My father is better," she said. 

" Where are you going? " asked the widow. 

" To Chicago," answered Rose, as if Chicago had been 
across the street. 

" Yes, yes, I know," said Mrs, JuUa. " But where are 
you going now ?" n t 'j 

" r thought of taking the Uain right through," she said. 

'■Realty. Rose." said the good-hearted widow, "you 
must be out of jour senses. You are hardly strong enougp 

The Re-birth of Hope. 



to cross tlie street, and you talk of starting right off an ex- 
press railway journey of nearly 1 .000 miles " 

" But," said Rose, ■■ there is nowhere else to go." She 
spuke with a de.idness of feeJiag. as if the question in no 
way concerned her, 

Mrs. Julia hesitated for a moment, then, crossing to the 
Express office, she booked her luggage and 
Rose's box to the 5.1 me address. 

Then she returned, and taking Rose's arm 
said to her. "Come." 

Rose did not ask a question. She followed 
her silently to the Elevated Railway, leaning 
on Mrs. Julias arm , she mounted the plat- 
form, and soon they \\ere on their way to 
a station at the other end of the island. 

Rose sat perlectly still. The strange 
spectacle of tlie railway running, as it weie, 
on the first floor level over the heads of the 
roaring traffic of one of the busiest cities 
in the world, the tall buildings, the hideous 
telegraph posts, the staring advertisements 
— everj' thing, in short, that provokes the 
attention and excites inquiry on the part of 
a stranger, left her perfectly unmoved. If she 
had been a corpse in a hearse going to her 
own burial, she could not have shown less 
interest. Mrs. Jtilia also was silent. She 
was revolving in her own mind sotne schemes 
which she had not quite thought out. Pre- 
sently a contented tittle smile came over 
her beautiful countenance. She had arrived 
at some satisfactory solutioi?, but she said 

At last they reached their station. " Now, Rose dear," 

she said, " we alight here. " Rose obeyed mechanically, 
descended the steps and followed Mrs. J ulia to a pleaijant 
little house looking out over the park. " We will stay here 
for a day or two," she said, " and tbeu we will go on to 

Rose made no answer. She did not even seem to 
understand. They entered the house. A comely Quaker 
lady cordially grteted the widow. 

"Welcome," she said, " dear Adelaide, and thy friend 
'^hom thou hast brought with thee. Wilt thou come to 
t iy bed-^uamber, for thou seemest to have sore need of 
rest ? ' 

They went upstairs into a beautifully neat and simply- 
fursitshed room, " Here thou wilt rest," said the lady of 
the house. 

Mrs. Julia assisted her to undress. " Now, dearie, you 
had better lie down for a little, and take a sleeping draught 
and lorget all about it for a time." 

Kose submitted as if she tverc a doll. Soon the doctor 
arrived. He shook his head. " A shock so violent as 
almost to paralyse the nervous system," he said. " Sleep 
at once, and for as long as possible, is her only chance." 

She submitted to drug and morphia it jection unresist- 
ingly, and was soon happily unconscious. 

"Adelaide," said Aunt Deborah, " ihy friend suffers 
much. When did the Lord send her to thee ? ' 

"Auntie," said Mrs. Julia. "1 have heard you say 
* The Lord setteth the desolate in families,' and He seems to 
have sorted out one even more forlorn than myself to keep 
me company for a time." 

Aunt Leborah folded the young widov/ in her arms, 
and both were silent for a tittle space. 

Long before Kose had even Iclt the ship a fierce alter- 
cation bad begun at the doors of the Victoria Hotel. 
When the driver had deposited Mrs. Wills and her 
family and handbags at the door of the hotel, she asked 
the fare. 

" 1 en dollars," said the hackman. 

Not believing she heard aright, she repeated her queS' 
tion. "1 asked you how much 1 was to pay you." 




From the Old World to the New. 

" And 1 say y'evc to pay me ten dollars,' said lie. 

Mrs. Wills went into the hotel, and inquired at the 
office what the fare was. "That's as you fix it up," was 
the reply. " Vou pay what you agree to pay." 

" But," said the bc^vildered lady, " I did not engage the 
cab. The doctor engaged it. He ts following us, and 
will be here directly." 

" Better tell him to wait llll the doctor comts," saii the 

'■ And you had better go to your room, No. 236," said 
the porter. 

"The gentleman who engaged the cab will be here 
directly," she said ; " tell the driver to wait.' 

And then, entering the elevator, she and her children 
were whisked up to the fifth floor, where, for the first 
time for a week, they felt themselves almost at home. 
Little Pearl, who was rather bevvilderetl at the lift, soon 


r.^^T'^i" ^l"'"™''/ "'hen the «Taps were unpacked 

au'iSS"''' '^°'"' "''^'" '"°'* ''"'■*''^* ^^" ^''^n ■°' 

"I does, said Pearl. " I loves Kitty. I does not love 
Mehca. Does you?" she asked * *i«ra noi love 

;; Well, no not exactly, not yet," said Tom. 

„ S",f ".^''£? '""« you • " »he persisted. 
No, said Tom. 

T^^'^l^^? '°r^ ""''" ^'^ P^"!- triumphantly, and 
Tom djdnt care to pursue the conversatioa 

wa^^fn^'^^Dr" W '^^TT ""'■''"''=- ^ P^^^^ ^''^ 
JlriW^h^F;, u )^y""^ *'*'* amvtd. and w-as at once 
taciled by he hackman, who declared that the bdv haH 

ITZr h'? *•=" ''""T- The doctor Xuled The We, 
and offered- him two, which the driver scornfully refund 

^T' V^ll^Tf^- •' ^"" "«-- it to the clerkTo 

Dr. Wynne accepted the reft-rence. The dr;«. 
bled a good deal, but urtimately accepted thrp^l.?™^ 
twelve shillings for two miles' drive -and deoarted^'S" 
considerable expenditure of bad language. *^ "''** "iW 

The American, whose name it appeared wa= t 
Young, who had himself returned from Euro^ ►hi*"*' 
vious day, said to the irate doctor,— P'*" 

■■ Its a peculiar institution of ours, the hack-driv« .- 
an institution specially established and maintain!'/ L' 
teach the Britisher, at tlie moment of entn- 7hat our *° 
are not your ways nor our thought! youf thoushts J! 
is a pretty considerable nuisance, the hackman, but h! 
saves his cost by teaching the stranger it's uniafe in TJl 
country to assum: anything. After such an experience « 
yours, I guess, he continued, -youl! be more clu^fd 
about hinng things without knowing whafs to nav Thi 
poor fellow you will see is, after all. a blessing in disguise - 
•■ The disguise is a tnfte thick, isn't it ? " said the doctor 
" And 11 IS rather rough or. the stranger to give him so sUff 
a lesson before he has had lime to look round " t 

"Well, sir," replied Mr, Young, ■■perhaps you ,„ 
ri^ht. But it's well n*»t to lose time. Lncle Sam beuiM 
with th.> torilT, and then rubs it in with hackmen ■ andXr 
two such lessons, he hopes you'll need no more to nukr 
you look spr>'." ^^ 

., "^^ '^ w"."; ^"^'"^f and went up the staircase to lee 
how Mrs Wills wus " located." and to take the boys outlbr 
a run. The marble steps were magnificent, but tht-v were 

, better for looking at tlian walking on. On the fira-Door 
he was glad to take the elevator and be deposited witfaoid 
more trouble ai the door of No. 236. He found Mi* 
Wills had made up her mind to start at once for Chicajio 
by the New York Central, stopping on the way at Nia^ 

._ The doctor said he was going to stay in New York tili 
Tuesday, and then go round by Washington. He offered 
to take the boys and the luggage, so that their mothcrcould 
be free to devote herself to Pearl. The boys were de- 
hghted, and so it was arranged 

The next day Rose was somewhat better. But her eves 
lacked their old lustre. She looked wan and haggard 
S)hc assented to everything that was proposed with the 
utter absence of interest that made one feel that the 
Burror of her mind had suddenly been transformed into 
lead. No image of outer things was reflected thereon. 
The soul had withdrawn itself. The eye saw not the 
bustle of the streets, the vivid green of the trees, the 
loving faces of her fiiends. She moved ahnost as in 
a trance. But. liehind that outer calm, bitter thoughts 
were trampling down all the flowers of her youthful love. 
Whenever Mrs. Julia left her she crouched up in a 
chair or laid her head upon the table, and would sit motion- 
less and mute for hours. She shed no tears, she made no 
moan. She suffered in outward silence, out witliin all 
was tumult and desolation and despair. Her outward life 
was the vainest of vain shows, and its events and sur- 
roundings were as indifferent to her as the colour of the 
curtains of his bed to a dreamer in the grasp of a nightmare. 
Nor was it to be wondered at that she should be thus 
overwhelmed and crushed into dumb agony. For seven 
years her whole life had centred in the service of the 
temple of her love. No vestal virgin had ever trimmed 
the sacred flame with more reverent hand. She had kept 
her heart as a sacred grove surrounding the garden-shrine 
in \vhich all the sweet flowers were tended with loving 
care to weave garlands for the altar. That altar reared in 
the inmost holy of holies of her nature was dedio-ted to 
this worship of the Supreme Love. Even the remote pre- 
cincts of this sacred grove had been jealously guarded 
from all intnision. In the garden of the shrine no foot but 


The Re-birth of Hope. 


bers had ever trod. Even the winds of heaven were 
forbidden tc blow upon the shrine ilself, so shaded was it 
and s) secluded, nor had any knee but that of its vestal 
priestess I'ver kneh before the altar in the inmost sanctuary. 
To guiird that grove, to tend that garden, to pray in that 
consecrated shrine, for seven y«ars liad been her life. If, 
for iome hours every day, necessity had driven her to do 
Other work in the outside worlJ, it was only in order that 
the might keep herself alive and well, to minister at the 
altar, and to be ready for the coming of the Beloved. 

And now, she sees, or thinks she sees, that the rude and 
brutish hoofs of actual fact trample into remediless ruin all 
the fair fancies of her maiden meditation, that the axe of the 
spoiler is laid to the trees of the sacred grove, that mad- 
ieningthoughts like demented Furies rage round the shrine, 
and that all this was done by order of him for whom 
she trimmed the deathless ilame by night and day, and 
day and night, for seven long years. Was it ivonderful tlien 
that reason should reel on its throne, and despair should 
mould her prayer unto one vague longing for death ? 

If he had died she could tiave borne it. She could 
cherish her love for his memory when he was near 
her in the spirit quite as well as when he was absent 
from her in the flesh. But to forget her, and to marry 
another who had borne him children, and surrounded him 
with the new ties of a new love that made it seem 
wicked lor her to love him any more, this was more than 
she could bear. For, no matter how wicked it was, she 
coutd not help loving him. He wasanothcrwoman'shusband, 
no doubl, and never should the shadow of her presence 
darken the happiness of his home. But, though he were 
a hundred times the other woman's husband, that could 
not and wouid not prevent her loving him still. Hers he 
could no longer be in life. But in that strange shadowy 
world in which Rose had passed so much ot her actual 
life, no power in heaven or earth coutd thrust him from 
her. That consolation, at least, fate could not fteny. 
There they could live in love, and cherish for each other 
all tlie old affection. 

But cvfii this melancholy consoblion of despair became 
a new source of torture, for Rose was tormented by 
doubts whether the solemn and awful words of the Ser- 
mon on (iic Moimt, ivhich declare chat the thoughts and in- 
tents of the heart are even as deeds and acts before the 
eye of God, did not cover more than the grosser crimes of 
murder .Tndadulterj'. If she imagined herself wandering 
once more by Avonside ivith her lover's arm around her 
.vaist in the dreamy glorj' of the setting sun, was that not 
a sin ? What right had she to caress the husband of 
another, to assure htm ot her love, and might she not 
possibly, in some mysterious way, involve him in the doom 
which would overwhelm their lawless love— even though 
that love were of the imagination only ? 

So the gloom grew deeper upon her, and the lines on 
her face became more rigid and her haggard look was 
pitiful to see. In vain the kindly doctor told her to make 
an effort to rouse herself and shake off the depression. 
He might as well have exhorted a watch to resume its 
movement when the mainspring was broken. He gave 
her drugs, but they did nothing for her. All that he could 
do was to administer opiates, which gave her temporary 

But even sleep became dreadful to her, although she 
longed for it with a fearful longing not for oblivion, but 
because when she slept she dfTnt-d. And she always 
dreamed the same drea.T) that she dreamed so long ago. 
And she was there, and he was there, and onpe more they 
were locked in each other's arms— to part no more for 
ever. And always as she awoke, fresh fro.n the glowing 
rapture of that great love to be confror ted by the hard 

stern reality of things, her conscience used the sacred- 
wirds as scourges to lacerate her bleeding flesh. 

The day after landing it was evident that she was going. 
t3 sink into melancholia unless something could be done 
to rouse her from her misery. The good Aunt Deborah 
prayed long and fervently for this wandering lamb. Mrs. 
juha racked her wits to devise means for exorcising the- 
fiend that possessed the lonely girl. All efforts to make 
her Sjteak of the cause of her melancholy were quietly but 
Stolidly repelled. 

But in a way which they thought not the relief came.- 
Rose was sitting in the draiving-room in the alternoon, as 
usual taking no notice of what was going on around her. 
The widoM' (vas showing to Aunt Deborah the spoils of 
the voyage. Among other things she had accumulated 
a store of portraits of her acquaintances among the pas- 
sengers. She had Mr. Com p ton's portrait, and Irene's, and 
Mrs. Irwin's, and the doctor's, and Professor Glogoul's. 
But she said, " I prize more than all these the portraits of 
Mrs. Wills and her dear children. She had the only baby 
in the saloon, such a duck of a little girl, whom everybody 
spoiled. But I like the portrait of Fred best, with his 
long curly hair. He was just like a hltle angel in a Scotch 
cap. ' 

" A dear boy,' said Aunt Deborah, " with a sweet expres- 
sion. Wilt thou not let me have his portrait to put upon 
the mantel ? Thou wilt give much pleasure to many who 
will look upon it." 

" Certainly, dear aunt," said the widow, " I am unwill- 
ing to lose it, but you will keep it for me, and if I cannot 
get another, you will let me have it back." 

" If thee wishes it," said Aunt Deborah. " But I hope 
thou wnlt let it remain there," she said, as she fixed it in 
a frame and placed it conspicuously on the mantel-piece. 

"Rose, poor dear lamb," she added, "come and say if 
thou dost not think it a beautiful child ? " 

Rose, thus appealed to, rose mechanically from her chair 
and approachwl the picture. 

The moment her eyes fell upon it they dilated and 
flashed with fire. Turning round upon the astonished' 
widow, she cried — 

" I tliink you at least might have spared me this." 

She started for the door. A savage, sombre look of 
anger and pain had suddenly replaced the hstless 

Hardly knowing u'hy, Mrs, Julia sprang to the door just 
in time to prevent Rose leaving the room. 

" Let me go," said Rose, imperiously. "I will not stay 
another moment in this house. " 

'•Why, Rose, what on earth is the matter?" said her 
friend. " What has happened ? " 

"Let me go," she cried. "1 will go! you shall lioi 
slop me ! Why do you wish to keep me here to torture 
me? I cannot bear it," and then she tried with the- 
utmost of her frail strength to force the door open. 

"liose," said Mrs. Julia, gravely, for she saw that a. 
crisis had come, " I will let you out. But you tnust tell- 
me why you have taken so sudden a desire to go." 

" Let me out," she said, impatiently, " let me out ! 
You have no right to keep me here. And that too," she 
added, " in order to taunt me by thrusting in my face the 
portrait of his child." 

Mrs. Julia was so utterly astounded she let go the door. 
Rose instantly opened it and ran upstairs. But before 
she reached her room she slipped and fell heavily at the 
foot of the marble statue that stood at the top of the- 

Mrs. Julia and her aunt ran to her help. Rose wa» 
only partially stunned, and still full of resentment. She 
said, " Go away, I do not need you 1 " She could uol 


s \ 



AT THE TOP OF THE STAIRS i fiagg 6l). 


Round New York. 


walk, however, and they carried her to her room, where 

she lay sullenly on her bed, wliile they busied themselves 
IQ bathing the bruise on her brow. 

She closed her eyes, and lay quite still as if asleep. 
Then she heard the two good women talking in whispers 
at the foot of the bed. 

" What dost thou think now"? ' said the good Quaker. 
" Thy friend hath revived, but her anger, poor frail lamb, 
has brought her a snare." 

" I cannot imagine what she means.'' said the widow, 
"about taunting her. You merely showed her the por- 
trait of Mrs. Wills' boy ! " 

" Yea." said Aunt Deborah, " Is it possible that poor 
Roise knew Mr. Wills aforetime? She said something ol 
' h s ' child."' 

Rose lay silent, but lier heart was throbbing as if it 
would burst. A vague, impossible hope began to struggle 
into her mind, as the first glimpse of the sunrise struggles 
almost in vain through the black storm clouds on the 
eastern sky. She waited for the ans^ve^ as a convict on 
the scaffold for the reprieve. She had not long to v^-uit. 
for almost immediately, the widow replied — 

" No, that is impossible, he was not on the ship. Mrs. 
Wills was bnnging the children to meet him at San 
Francisco, where he returns from the Chinese Mission 
Held. The doctor was very good to licr on the voyage, 
and took charge of the children just as if he had been 
their father. In fact, I believe he i8«ith them now. — But, 
what is that?" 

A low, sobbing, choking cry brought them at once to 
the bedside. Rose had swooned, but her ej-cs were filled 
with tears, and there \(*as a strange look of ecstasy about 
her face which had in it something unearthly, so wonder- 
ful «'as the change it had uTought in her haggard features. 

" She has been weeping,'' said Aunt Deborah, " She 
will be better now. When she comes out of her swoon. I 
vill leave thee alone with her for a time." 

As Rose lay unconscious, Mrs. Julia bathed her temples 
with aromatic vinegar. The swoon gave place to a natural 

She slept quietly as a child for six hours. When Mrs. 
Julia came from time to time to see if she had awakened, 
she found the pillow wet with tears, but on the face the 
same beautiful smile. 

It was nearly nine o'clock. The light ^vas beginning to 
fail, although the sunset splendour still flamed on the 
western sky. »vhen Rose stirred, opened her eyes, and see- 
ing Mrs. Julia standing by her side, she stretched out her 
arms. The widow bent down and kissed her. Rose kept 
her close to her for a long, silent minute. Then she said : 

" Oh, Adelaide, it is not true, then ; it is not true ? " 

Then she wept. The widow let her weep for a time, and 
then, gently disengaging herself from Rose's clinging grasp, 
she persuaded her to drink, as she v'ould not eat, some egg 
and milk. Rose drank it, and then made Mrs. Julia sit 
dose by her on the bed. 

" I have had such a beautiful dream. I was in a strange 
and lovely place by the seaside. I was all alone, seeking 
my love. I wandered among myriads and myriads of men. 
and there was nooe like unto hino. none to be compared to 
him. And I sav^' Mrs Wills agaiu, and her angel -faced 
boy. and the little girl And then things changed in the 
strangest way as do. I dreamed my old dream 
again, and 1 was at Shottery once more, although the sur- 
roundings were strange. And then I saw him coming 
to me. And as [ ran to throw mj-self upon his breast, 
he piit me back, and said, ' Oh, Rose, why did you doubt ? ' 
I wept and said. ■ If you kneiv how I have suffered you 
would be \-er>- sorry for me. and forgive.' Then he smiled, 
and said. ' Fred and Pearl are Mrs. Wills' children. Ours are 

still to come.' And he embraced me as he used to do, and 
then Ewoke up, and you were there, and though it was only 
a dream it will some day be real. Won't it, Adelaide ? " 

" Certainly," said the practical Mrs, Julia. " But if you 
had only told me at the first. I could have told you all 
about it. Now 1 understand many things. But why did 
the df>ctor not call himself by his right name ? " 

" His name was ■ Walter Wynne.' " said Rose. 

" But they called him, ' Waher Vernon.' Ah I now I think 
of it, 1 have his portrait downstairs." 

And before she could notice the startled joy on Rose'» 
face, she tripped down to the drawing-room. and. a 
moment later, burst into the room. 

■^ Well, 1 declare, " she said, " if the portrait has not got 
' \^'alte^ \\'ynne ' u ritten on the track." 

Rose took that photograph, and hid it in her breast. 

Chapter XL— Rook d Neiv York. 
" Now." said the doctor to the youngsters, after seeing 
Mrs. W'ills off to Niagara within two hours of landing, 
" VK have got two days and a Sunday in which to see 
New York, so 1 propose that we go back to the begin- 
ning. Before doing anything else let us take a steamer 
and go off to the Statue of Liberty. You remember 
seeing it when you came up in the Mf^jesHc?" 


" "Whose statue is it ? " asked Fred, 

" It is the Statue of Liberty enlightening the world, and 
was put up by Frenchmen, who loi-ed the Americans, seven 
years ago. The Cioddess of Liberty stands on a gigantic 
pedestal holding a torch in her hand, from which 
streams a bright electric light at night time. It is the 
biggest statue in the world." 

They soon reached the base of the statue and then 
began to climb up the staircase which led to the top. 
They were somewhat tired before they got up, and rested 
a good while at the top of the pedestal, which is itself 
153 feet high. 

•' Sir." said a companion whom they picked up on the 
way, "there is nothing like this in the Old World, I guess? 
The pedestal cost 250,000 dollars, and the statue another Half a million dollars you may take it at. 
Half a million dollars for the Statue of Liberty en- 
lightening the world, and cheap at the price. One half 
a free gift, and the other half subscribed by Americans.'" 

After resting at the summit of the pedestal they began 
the ascent of the interior of the figure which is made 
of copper plates ri vetted together. They were very tited 


Fro\[ the Old World to the New 


when they found themselves in the head of the goddess, 
in which there was room Cor forty people to staod. 
" What a long nose it has got ! " said Tom. 
" Three feet long," said tlie doctor. •' But now, let us 
^ up the ann." 

After a short climb they reached the torch -chamber, 
and looked dovni upon New York, which by at their feet 
The great water-way. along which countless vessels were 
Steaming to the great ocean-gate ot America, made a 
picture which it was worth while climbing l«ice as far 

After admiring the view for some time they descended, 
findiog it much easier to come down than to go up. They 
had some lunch, and then sailed back to the Battery. 

" Now," said Dr. Wynne, '■ as we have seen the biggest 
statue in the world, let us go and see the largest suspen- 
sion bridge that has ever been built. ' 

They took the tram to the City Hail, passing on th.- 
way many interesting points, among which were Wall 
Strett, Trinity Church, and the Post Office. They 
climbed up the lower of the H'orli/ oKce, which is nearly 
seventy feet higher than the Statue of Liberty. From 
the top of this tower they were informed they could sec 


forty-five miles of country. No other newspaper office in 
the w„r Id has such an outlook. The d^tor did no" 

rtrki;xye'^ °^"' ""' '^''^ ^'^ -^ ^»-«^"" 

Standing on the bridge, Tom tried to brine his Kodak 

l^b;.""^ ""= 'T^'' ^^ r"' "« '*'^" by the\ccompt^>j- 
mg plate, was rather peculiar. 

Fred.' '' '^^"^ ""^ '''^"* suspension bridge?" asked 

toSIt'TTr'^ 'he doctor. •■ It took thirteen years 
to bu d .t, and It cost three million pounds sterling. You 
«^- ' 'S 135 .feet above the high -water mark The 

Tp^ ' a T:^nl "T'' " ■"''",'""« '•"<» »"^ bridge itS 
spans a distance of over a mile. 150,000 Deool? on an 
average pass over it every day " ^^ 

.'! Sr;.'^ *''" '^^F s"«P«"ded ? " asked Tom. 
ay «ires, said ,[,5 doctor. "You see those fnnr 

Sof^^'"'' "'^"•'' "^"^ ^"^^'^^d to the high ^wl^' 
e^ch^f them conu.ns over Eve thousand galvf niseS'irel 

tooi:ThedSd^S;'*= '"•'^^ ^"'^ back again, they 
•'Now.- «id Dr. Wynne, "you have seen the largest 


Statue and the greatest suspension bridge in the world ■ I 
am going to take you to see one ol the finest parks that 
you will see in your lives. It is Saturday aternoon. 
The Central Park \ill! befull of people. Come and see 
the turn out." 

At Fifth Avenue they took their seats in oni: of the open 
carry-alls for a drive round the park. For a dollar a head 
they made the round trip, greatly enjoying the drive round 
the great park. It «-as crowded witli vehicles. They 
were frequently blocked, and admired much the patience 
of the crowd. What they did not admire was the surlines! 
of the policemen. 

" See, Tom," said the doctor, " the AmericaDS only have 
one class in their railways, but they have three classes in 
their park, and they never let them mix. They have what 
they call drive-ways, bridle-paths, and footpaths, and 
carnage-riders and foot-passengers are all kept rigidly 
distinct. You are ne' -er allowed even to make a short cut 
across a drive-way or a bridle-path. If you try it, up 
comes a policeman and turns you back." 

" Do they let carts iuto the park ? " asked Tom. 

" Never," said the doctor, " e.\cept the park-carls. They 
••are a clever plan for keeping the heavy traffic out of 




Round New York. 



vlghL Four transvejrse roads— sunken streets, in fact — 
cross the park, so that all the slreet-trafBc can be kept out 
o( sight, a:id the people can Teel, in the midst of the 
crowded city, that tliey are in the heart o( the country." 

After they left the carry-all tliey re-entered the park, to 
Btroll among the people, to visit t!ie pretty lakes, ti look 
ibrougii the Menagerie— they had not time to see the 
Museum — and to have late dinner at the capital restaurant, 
the Casino. When they were dining, an affable New 
Yorker, sitting at the same table, gossiped with them 
snout the park. 

" If it were sold up for building sites," he said, " it 
would nearly pay oflT the National Debt." 

He named the dollars, but after a while a Britisher's 
head gets addled with the incessantly recurring million 
dollars. They remembered that he said the park was 
over a mile in length, but so cunningly was it Said out that 
they had nine miles of drives, six miles of bridle-paths, and 
thirty miles of footpaths within its 840 acres, forty-three 
of which are under water. The Central Park, he said, 
was but one of the best of their parks ; they had any 
auraber more. In fact, you could hardly fire a musket in 
any part of the city without scaring birds in one of thi^ 
parks or open spaces ^vith which it is studded. 

Dinner over, they took a car, after a little bargaining in 
which their j\merican frit--nd assisted them, for an hour's 
.drive just before sunset. A doUsr and a half was to be 
paid, and their new acquaintance kindly oHered to accom- 
pany them, and point out some of the sights they saw on 
Iheir way. They drove first through Fifth Avenue, Ihe 
street of the millionaires. As marble palaces and b^o^^m 
atone fronts were passed, one of the boys asked if the 
people who lived there were nobles. 

"Guess net," said the New Yorker, grimly, "they are 
only their uncles and fatJiers-io-law. There is enough 
real estate in that row, I reckon, to buy up— stock, lock, and 
barrel — the whole titled aristocracy of more than one 
European country. But we have no titles in this country, 
except those of office — honorary or otherwise. Every 
other man 'm president or secretary of something, just as in 
the South pretty nearly every white man is a colonel, 
unless he is a general. If we started a peerage there 
would be mote tlukes than dudes. No. sir, give us the 
fower of the purse ; you can keep the gildfd gingerbread 
in Europe. Our girls marry titles, but the boys mustn't 
wear thern." 

"What are these huge houses?" said the doctor, as they 
drove into FIfty-niuth Street. 

"They are the lUts which ascend into the heights. 
Land is dear, servants are scarce, so New York imitates 
Paris, and crowds many families under one roof." 

"Then these tenement houses -" 

" Sir." said the New Yorker ; "these tenement houses ? 
You might as well call them slums. Tenement houses are 
only for poor folks. These flats or apartment houses, for 
we have both sorts, are almost the crowning achievement 
which associated effort brings to luxury. But— stop for a 
moment," he said to the carman. " I want to show you 
the scene of one of our little battles. This is Eighth 
Avenue — fine business street, is it not ? Well, it is here, 
of all places in the world, in which a pitched battle took 
place only twenty-two years ago, between the Orangemen 
and the Catholic Irish. The Catholics swore tliey would 
Stop the Orange procession celebrating the Battle of the 
Boyne. We swore they should parade if we had to call 
out our whole aniiy. We did call out the militia, and the 
parade took place. When they were passing Twenty- 
efth and Twenty-sixth Streets, the Catholics opened fire 
from the windows. The militia replied. When the fight 
«'a3 over we reckoned up. It cost forty dead men and 

two hundred wounded to teach the Catholics to respect 
liberty of procession in a free country. Unfortuitate!?, 
the Butcherj Bill had to be met by both sides." 

" Forty killed and two hundred wounded ! why, that >« 
nearly as many as we lose in one of our little wars, ' 
said Tom. 

" Yes, sir," said the American, " but life Is cheap here, 
especially Irish life. If the Irish would only kill each other 
•ve should not mind. It is when thev take to killing us we 
begin to wake up. Do you sec that building there ? " H 
asked, pointing to the Grand Opera House at the cornet 
of Eight Avenue, •' that was where Fiik and Gould were 
once besieged, and where Fisk used the Erie Railuay fun<5« 
to run opera bouffe and maintain his seraglio, i es, sir, 
wc have no doubt to put up with many imported ruflfiaiis, 
but it is only the indigenous American who carriel 
rascality to a scale of sublimity." 

" What came of Fisk ? " asked the doctor. 

"Got s!i(jt, tiiaiik God ! ° was ihc reply. 


" Here is Madison Square, the very heart of the city. It 
is quiet now, but when elections are on, here is the place 
to note the throbbing pulse of our great democracy. 
Bown Madison Avenue there is Dr. Parkhurst's Church— 
you had better go and hear him to-morrow. He doesn't 
live with Mclchisedek and atcliicologize in Babylon while 
New York is left to the rum-«eUet and' the Evil One. Near 
by is another live man of a dillerent tvpe. Dr. Marcta 
Rainsford, who is rector of St. George's Episcopal Church. 
He believes in running a church saloon. He h<is got as 
far as a club and a Bymnasium. It you go to-morrow you 
will see his wonien choristers in white array," 

" 1 want to go to Plymouth Church," said the doctor. 
".■\fter Plymouth Rock, it is to me the most sacred place in 

" So," said their friend, " that is over in Brooklyn, close 
to the bridge ; but here we are in Sixth Avenue. Do yon 
see that store ? " 

" With R. H. Macy and Co. on it 7" said Fred. 

" That is what I mean. That is about the biggest store 
in the entire world. Paris has got one or two big maga- 
zines, and in London you have Wliiteley's. But that store 



From the Old World to the New. 


there takes the cake. The figures " (suppressed groan 
froni Fred)— "Never you mind, air, the figures are a 
roroaiice. W'liy, sir, it tahes an engine of tvveiity-fiwe 
horse-power merely to operate the blowers of tlie pneu- 
matic tubes through which all change is paid." 

" Really." said the doctor, " how is that done ? " 

"Why, the ^^•hole of that building before you, with its 
floor space of 200,000 square feet, is threaded through 
end through with pneumatic tubes, all centring in a 
cbange-roooi, where sits one change-girl at the mouth of 
every three tubes. All the money is whisked to her by 
the pneumatic blower, with the account. She takes the 
bill, checks the additions, and sends back the change and 
the receipt. There is no delay, no robbery. There are 
4,000 persons employed in that store in busy times, 2,500 
are constantly on duty in the slackest time. You will find 
all the cunniiigcst notions under that roof. One luindred 
thousind people pass in and out of its seven doors every 
day, more tlian half as many as cross Brooklyn Bridge, 
and ail is done for cash— ready money down, as you say. 
There aret^vo hints that maybe usefuUo yotirshop people. 
One is the Mail Order department. This is a staff of 
buyers, shopmen who receive orders from customers at a 
distance, whose whole duty it is to go and buy from th=. 
various departments just as if the rustomer was there her- 
self. The other is the dark Hall of Mirrors where all 
purchasers of coloured silks can see how the material looks 
in the glare of the electric light." 

" Are there any other firms as big as Macy's," asked 

" Ridley's is as big, or even bigger. They have eighty- 
five departments •» against fifty in Macy's. Their stables 
alone cost them a quarter of a million dollara," 

From Madison Square they drove to Washington 
Square where they saw the Judson Memorial Church, a 

branch of the Church militant which is devoted to social 
vmtls.. There is a c!ub house, apartment house, and a 
nurse i^' all centring round this church. They looked at 
the Astor Librarj', and then drove down the Bowery, 

"Here," said their guide, " we come to the slumniy re- 
gion, which is low class European rather than American. 
You meet here Chinese, Italians, Jews, and any number of 
Germans and Irish. I showed you a little further up 
where we had our last pitched battle ; we are now passing 
the place where there was a still more determined figlu 
just before our Civil War broke out. It was in 1857 when 
two factions, the ' Dead Rabbits ' and the ' Bowery Boys,' 
had a stand-up figlit with barricades, rifles, and even 
cannon. The police— of whom we have only 3,200 in New 
York now, whereas by the London standard we ought to 
have double as many— were quite powerless. The fight went 
on until the militia were called out, and it was not stopped 
until six men had been killed and loo injured." 
" But what was it all about ? " asked Tom. 
"One target comp;iny refused to give precedence to 
another, and so they killed each other—' Irish fashion.' 
But we do not think much of these things. Eight years 
before a tlitatrical row about Macready ended in a riot 
which was only quelled by calling out the soldiers— 100 of 
whom were wounded and several killed before the riot 
was suppressed. You are too squeamish about killing 
people in England, Instead of letting them fight it out a» 
we do, you coddle them up, and make far too much adc 
when, now and again, your authorities do not hesitate to 
shoot 1 suppose," said he, meditatively, '■ it is be- 
cause you kill at such a wholesale rate in your wars, yoi: 
cannot afford to have it done retail as we do. Now," said 
he, " we will see the outside ot the icstitution which keeps 
the Bowery Boys in order." 

They then drove to the Tombs, the city prison of New 
York. It was Retting late, and they drove down past the 
City Hall and the Post Ol.,ce, at which point they dis 
missed their carman, and betook themseli'es to the hotel 
Next day being Sunday, they spent it quietly. In the 
morning they went to Old Trinitj% the oldest Episcopa- 
lian church in New York, which stands just opposite tht 
end of Wall Street, and then went to hear Dr. Parkhurst 
In the afternoon they looked in at St Patrick's Cathedral 
in the Fifth Avenue, admiring the building, which is said 
to be the finest church edifice in the New World. Thev 
then crossed over to Brooklyn, and Icioked in at Dr. Tat 
mage's Sunday-school in Clifton Avenue, and in the even- 
ing visited Plymouth Church. 

" I want to go there," said the doctor to the boys, "be 
cause it was one of the cradles of the religious and civil 
liberty of the United States," 

" Who is the preacher ? " asked Tom. 
" Dr. Lyman Abbott is now in the pulpit, but althougl- 
he is a good man and eloquent, it is not because of the 
man who is in it, but because of the man who used to be 
in it that we are going to Plymouth Church this evening 
None of you young people will quite understand how use- 
ful Henry Ward feecher was in his day and generation 
For twenty years and more he was the foremost preacher 
ill the English-speaking world, and his influence was- 
always on the right side. He was for every good cause 
everpvhere, and while advocating broad viewrs, he never 
left the foundation on which he had been reared. In the 
great stniggle for the emancipation of the negro, and the 
still greater struggle for the maintenance of the uninr, 
upon which depended the industrial as opposed to the 
military aspect of the New World, Beecher fought ever Ic 
the van. These issues have, however, gone by. * What- 
was of more permanent value was the service which hf 
rendered in broadening the theological horizon and ex- 


Round New York. 




panding even the narrowest and straitest of the sects till 
ihey could see their doctrine from the point of view of a 
.genial humanitarianism. ' 

Fred was very tired when he came back to the hotel, 
and the doctor ivas silect, thinking of many things, and 
■fecal ting from the recesses of his memory the watchwords 
of the great pulpit orator, whose voice still rei'crberates in 
the memories of hundreds of thousands of men who are 
carrj'ing out to-day the work which Beecher began. 

Next day Dr. Wynne took the boys down to Wall Street 
to see the crush and bustli- of business. After visiting 
some of the historic places in the neighbourhood of 
Battery Point, he took the Albany Day Line steamer iip the 
Hudson. It was a fine day. The splendid three-decker 
was not uncomfortably crowded After tearing about 
■the city, it was a great relief to he able to sit on deck and 
watch the beauties of the American Rhine as they unfolded 
themselves before their eyes. 

" The Americans beat xis hollow," said the doctor, " in 
the organisation of locomotive comtort. Jf they only made 
their pavemecta and roads as good as they make their three 
decked steamers or vestibule cars, they might have some 
claim to lead the world in that civilisation which is inter- 
preted by making smooth the paths of the travelling man." 

Two and a half dollars each carried them the round trip 
from New York to Albany and back again. The foliage 
on the banks of the river was in its freshest green, and 
both young and old heartily enjoyed the excursion. 

The next day they were up betimes. After settling 
their bill and getting their boots polished like mirrors by 
the omnipresent boot-blacks, they took their tickets 
through to Chicago vid I'hiladelphia, Washington, and 
Pittsburg, They had no anxiety about luggage, as they 
checked it through. They bought their tickets at the 
ticket agency office close to the hotel, and booked their 
liwgage through at the same time. The Express Office 
official tied ;. small metal check, with the place of destina- 
tion on it, to each of the portmanteaus, and gave the 
counterpart of the numbered metal check to the doctor, 
who was thus relieved from all further responsibility for his 
impedimenta. Then crossing the river to the New Jersey 

side by the biggest ferry in the world, they weat to the 
station of the Pennsylvania Railroad and took their seats 
in a vestibule train. 

The vestibule train is locomotive luxury, where every- 
thing is done to make you comfortable except motionless 
stillness, and that is attained as far as possible by the 
excellence of the metalled way, the solidity of the rolling- 
stock, and the perfection of the fittings. The boys, who 
had nf ver been aboard a Pullman car in their own coun- 
try, but had occasionally seen them at the tjondon 
stations, were delighted to find a train made up of Pull- 
man cars, and superior Pullman cars, so arranged that 
you can walk from one end of the train to the other while 
it is going at full speed. 

In England, where the distances arc so short that 
people think the journey between Edinburgh and London 
co^trs quite a considerable stretch of country, one can 
hardly realise the necessity for railway comfort in a country 
where cities are separated from each other by thousands 
of miles. The vestibule train is, therefore, a hotel on 
wheels. It is fitted with library, bath-room, barber's 
shop, writing-desk and (ypc-wTiiing staff, dining saloon, 
smoking-room, and sleeping accommodation. 

Soon after they had taken their seats, the bell rang and 
the train startfd. At first it went slowly, but as soon as 
it got out of the city it quickened speed and rattled along 
as rapidly as any of the Scotch expresses. 

In three hours they were in Philadelphia. Here they 
got out, intending only to look round and go on to Wash- 
ington by a later train. 

" Whatever you do," said o^e of their travelling com- 


From THi- Old World to the New. 


^anions "dont forget to sec three in Pl.iladclphia. 
Cc. U the City HalUvhidr is oue of lire brgt-st bmld- 
l^l. ,h' world't".. i. used for public busiaes. ; W a«a- 

•"^^^S^^oftiSS-Sir Sf ne found tHe Oty 

^^nlapl °pon him, so without more ado he started 
Kdepc^dence Hall This is the m which the 
D^clarat^n of Ind.pondcncc was first r«d. It .s mter- 
^"vT^s thf birthplare of Ihe Repubhc, and they were 
fikdlo see with what care the placo had been preserved. 
Evenr chair is said to stand exactly where it did on the 
eventful day on which the independence of the American 
colonics was declared. The walls are crusted over with 
relics of tht^ men who founded the Amencan Repubhc. 

-Did they do right, doctor." said Tom, -these raen 
who declared liieir independence ? " 

■■Yes." said the doctor, "it was not they who were 
wronR. but Kngland." 

:-<cig -n^giMfc ;^'^ ^f. I 



" But uould it not have been better," said Tom, 
they had iie\'er broken ioose from the old country ? " 

The doctor sighed. " It may seem so to us, my boy. but 
Providence thought otheririse. If our ancestors had been 
wise, things would never have come to this jwiss, but the 
folly ol our king was punished by the rending in twain of 
Ihe EngUsh-spfaking race. The blame of that great schism 
lies at our door, not that of the men who drew up the 
Declaration of Independence. Some day perhaps that 
•chism may be healed, but of the day and the hour 
Jtnoweth no man." 

They hurried ttact to the station and were soon speed- 
ing southward to the National capital. There they remained 
the night, rising early in the morning to drive round one of 
the most beautiful cities in .the world, and pay a visit to 
tie Capitot, which America has a right to claim as being 
one of the finest buildings in either hemisphere. 

From \\'ashington they took the cars and were soon 
ascending the Alleghanies. 

" Fifty years ago,* said the doctor, '* America was be- 
lieved to consist of the States east of these mountains. 
Now ilny are little more than the skin of the apple ; the 

real core of the Republic lies far *ithin. Even Chicago 
is now almost an Eastern city." 

The weather was tine and the railroad well made' 
Nothing could be more beautiful tSan the mountain 
scenery through which they passed. The train then began 
to descend into the heart of the Black Country in a region 
famous for its iron, its coal, and its oil, and still more 
for its great store of natural gas, which, however, they 
jvere told, was beginning to give out. 

They had no wish to stay at Pittsburg. The doctor 
looked with a melancholy interest upon the iron district 
^vllt^■h had been the scene tlic previous year of the fatal 
and sanguinary collision between Lalxmr and Capital at 

'■ I -wonder," he mused, " I wonder if this century wil^ 
fhiss before mankind has found the solution to the riddle; 
of tiic Sphinx." 

CiiAi'iER XII, — The Ql'eek City. 

"There are in all 147 ways of spelling Chicago," said 
Milie Dooley, the inter\-iewer, who. having exhausted the 
resources of copy manufacture in the car, was graciously 
disposed to be communicative in hii turn. 

" And how do you pronounce it ? ' said little Fred. 

'' Shee-qaw-gcr, or Chick-ar-go. accent on the secontf 
syllable," said Mike. '' Queer name, is it not ? It is 
the oldest thing about the place. They say there is a map 
in the Expo* 2Co years old. with F'ori Checagow printed 
01 ii. There is nothing else in the city so old, no, not. 
by a hundred years," 

'* It is an old Indian name, I think," said the doctor. 
" What does it mean .■' "' 

"Skunk's Hole, they say." answered Mike. "But 
others say it is 'ndian for strong and mighty, and a mighty 
strong city it is for sure, and there are skunks in it to thi» 
day," he added seriously, as he recalled how Ned Flanni- 
gan had "done a beat ' on him just seven days gone by 

The train was now coming within sight of the outskirts 
of the city. The line was crossing a great plain, inter- 
sected by an endless series of railways radiating like an 
immi-nse fan to the hori/:on, but all centring in Chicago. 

'• The railways make the State look like a gridiron," 
said Mike, "an almighty big gridiron, too, with Chicago 
as a rasher of bacon grilling on the lake shore." 

" Sir,' said a slranger. who had been sitting silent for 
some lime, " you're from the old country, I presume." 

" Ves," said the doctor, " And we've come like every- 
one else to see the Shoiv." 

'• You have done well, sir," said the stranger, whose- 
name was Hiram Jones. " but there is no show in the 
Expo' that is anything hke so wonderful as Chicago. No. 
sir. t'hicago is the great exhibit, the greatest exhibit 
ol all.' 

"Weil." said the doctor, 'T suppose it is a pretty fair 
size— Chicago is rather less than half as big £s London, 
1 hear.- 

Hirim Jones surveyed the doctor with a lo'jk ol supreme 
disdain, not unmi.xed with compassion. 

Before he could put his look into words, Mike broke in 
with an exclamation of surprise. 

" London ! '' he said, " Well, 1 reckon London is nowhere 
compared with Chicago, She's had 1,800 years to grow, 
and Chicago less than 80. Four millions in 1,800 years 
is not in it beside in 80 years. Why, we kill 
more pork in a montli than London can eat in a year. ' 

The doctor laughed. Hiram Jones looked serioiU- 
"Stranger," he said, "you've got to expand your mind 
before you even begin to take in the size of Chicago. Us 
cramping to the faculties living on a small island. Wbf« 

The Queen Citv. 


&II your railroads put together in all your tliree kingdoms 
«re less than one quarter the roads opsrated from Chicago. 
Liglity thousand miles of rail centre here. You have 
barely Hvsnty tliousand all put together." 

The train was now slowing up ai they approached the 
city. Before them hung, like the pillar of cloud that 
guided Israel through the wilderness, a dense pall of 

••Look, doctor," said Tom, " how smoky it seems.' 

'•Smoky,' said Mike, " Chicago can b:at even lx>ndon 
hollow at smoke. We have 2,000 factory chimneys 
always at it. and as we burn four million tons oi bituminous 
caal ecery year ; we're tied to have some smoke." 

" Where no oxen are the crib is clean, but much in- 
ctease is by the strength of the ox." said Hiram Jones. '■ Did 
not your Mr Gladstone lament there was not smoke 
eaougb iu Paris? He would not make that complaint 

Dimly through the smoke the lofty buildings began to 
be more clearly seen against the sky liLe. 

" Now," said Mike to the boys, " if you've got no crick 
in your necks yc- will have one before to-morrow dinner- 
time. For it takes a man to walk uith his head at right 
angles to his spii.e to see the top of our buildings. They 
used tci say that it took two men and a boy to tee to the 
roof of our sky-scrapers, ea.-h one beginning where the 
othei left off— but that is an old chestnut now. ' 

^ . 



The bell was ringing its warning notes, and the train 
Mas going very slowly. They were neariog the dep6t. 

•'There are seven central terminal depAts in Chicago." 
said Mike. " and over 100 other stations, but I suppose 
we will all run on to the Terminal." 

The boys were looking out of the window, full of eager 
curiosity at the strange city. The doctor was busy putting 
his odds and ends together. Mike was oourinR into his 
ear, with Hibernian volubility, the statistical informatioi; 
with which the citizens are crammed. 

*■ 1.360 trains." he said, "arrive and depart every 24 
hours. 260 of which are through eipres5<s;3S different 
railway companies bring 175,000 people to and from 
Chicaeo every day." 

In the midst of his figures the train came to a stand- 
still, and they landed at one of the largest and finest rail- 
way stations in the world. 

Summoning a cab, they were soon driving through the 
busy streets to the Auditorium Hotel. 

"What a blessing," said the doctor, "Chicago is civilized 
enough to^have its cab fares fixed by city ordinance. 
Pretty stiff" he added, as he looked at the regulations, 
"six shillings for taking the three of us less than a mile ; 
nothing less than a dollar if we just cross the street. But 

anything is better than the hideous jargoning at N'ew York. 
\\e might have taken the hotel omnibus, but at tvx'o ihil- 
lings a head we should have saved nothing." 


The boys were full of eager interest at the bustle and 
rush of the street. Cable -cars, carriages, cabs, drays were 
intermixed in apparently inextricable confusion. They had 
never seen streets at once so broad, and yet so crowded. 
Uut more than anything else, they marvelled at the height 
of the buildings." 

" Do people really live up there in the sky ?" said Fred. 
" How do they ever get upstairs ? " 

"They never go upstairs at all," said the doctor, " they 
are shot up in elevators so quick it makes hardly any 
difference which floor they occupy. Indeed, I im told the 
tent of the topmost rooms is heavier tlian those lower 
duwn. It is quieter up aloft." 

The cab tiaversed the heart of the business block, the 
most crowded half of a mile on the earth's surface. On 
either side towered the "sky-saapers," with sixteen and 
twenty stories. 

" That roan was quite right," said Tcm, " that man in 
the car, when he said we should get a crick in the neck if 
V* e tried to see the lop of these bouses. I wonder if the 
Tower of Babe) ever got so high." 

The car stopped. They were at the Auditorium Hotel. 
In a few minutes they Mere w!,i£ked up to their looms in 
the elevator, and they found themselves ten stories high 
It ivas not so very far up for Chicago, although it was 

twenty fett higher than 
the top of the Duke 
of Ycrk's Column in 

After they had washed, 
and made IhcmEelves 
comfortable, they went 
in search of Mrs. Wills. 
She had arrived the 
previous day. Little 
Pearl was delighted to 
fee her brothers again, 
and "the kind gemle- "— as she called the 

At dinner, in the midst 
of a bewildering variety 
of dishes, the doctor 
heard all the news about 
the rest of the party. 
ciiAMUtR oi- Lo.M.'itKi-t;, Theprofessoraud Comp- 

cutCACO. ion were, at the PalmCTt 


From the Old World to the New. 



where Irene had also established herself. Mrs. Julia had 
teeD lost sight of at Kew York. Mrs. IrNvm .vas staying 

" .'xhis^otel' is very splendid," said Mrs. Wills, *■ but it is 
too bit- r.>r me. 1 dnn t like a palace where 1,000 b«ds 

are made every day, 
and the figures tSiey 
give you about the hotel 
are simply beivilder- 
ing. I feel as 1 used 
to do at school when 
they made us learn 
the distances of the 

•' The .\mericans," 
said the doctor, "cer- 
tainly do beat all crea- 
tion in their familiarity 
with detail. In describ- 
ing this hotel, for in- 
stanc-, they tell you its 
exact weight, 1 10,000 
tons, and they even 
ic'U you that 17,000,000 
bricks were used in 
building it Who can 


britks ? It is easier to realise the 10,000 electric lights, 
the twenty- five miles of gas and water pipes, the 
J30 miles of electric wire, but even that it somewhat of a 

"Doctor," said Tom, "what a lot of machinery they 
have in this hotel. It is almost like a factory. They 
have eleven dynamos, thirteen electric motors, four 
hydraulic motors, twenty-one pumping engines, 
■^nd thirteen elevators. It is just like the Majestic, 
vhich you used to say was nothing but a great box of 

Alter dinner Dr. Wynne started for the Palmer Hotel to 
look up his friends Compton and the professor. He found 
them enjoying a dgar in the smoke room. 

"Wonderful place I ' said Compton ; " the marble stair- 
case is a wonder, while as for the marble panels, and all 
other kinds of architectural luxury, the place is like a 
dream suddenly solidified by the word of some magi- 

" Yes," said the professor, " it is a wonderful people ; it 
they could only leam to eat as cleverly as they have 
learned to build who kno«*s what they might not do ? 
But altliough I have only been two days in Chicago I have 
already seen that here, least of any place in the world, have 
they learned that leisure ia life. It is a great jjeople. It 
has rebuilt Chicago, it has put up the W'orld s Fair, and it 
is perishing from indigestion. ' 

"Well," said the doctor, " I came here to ask you to 
stroll round the business quarter now that the throng is 
off the streets, and we can look about without being 
hustled off the sidewalk." 

The professor, however, pleaded an engagement. He 
said he had promised to take Miss Vernon to McVicker's 
Theatre, one of the thirty-two theatres in which Chicago 
endeavours to forget for a moment the price of grain 
and pork. He said apologetically, " I will meet you here 
after the play." 

Compton and the doctor then started on a little tour 
of tnspectiou. On their way they picked up an old 
*"_r'""8 acquaantanee who had crossed on the Majestic, 
Md \i'ho, as good luck would have it, happened to 
" engaged 00 the engineering staff of the munici- 
Seeing they were doing a little sight seeing he 


offered his services, which were gratefully accepted, and 
the three set off to see the heart of the busiest city in the 

■' The heart of Chicago," said John .Vdiram. for such 
was the name of their companion—" the heart of Chicago 
in proportion to the whole city is not much larger than 
that of the heait to the human body. Within the city 
limits we have a hundred and eighty square miles, but the 
whole of the business is practically concentrated \vithin an 
area of half a mile square, in which we are now slandicg. 
It is this extreme concen ration which forces the grouth 
of these gigantic buildings you see on every side. Outside 
this half mile square we live and manufacture, byt the 
actual business is centred in this small section. As the 
ground is limited, these buildings tend every year to climb 
higher and higher into the sky.' 

■■ My first impression, ' said Compton, " when I saw 
the sky-scrapers was that one of our great chimneys had 
been suddenly unfolded, like a Chinese puzzle, so that 
its avails were stretched round a great quadrangle which 
was then pierced with windoivs and used for offices. 
Architecturally these huge piles offend our European eye." 
'■ 1 suppose it is only the elevator that makes them pos- 
sible ? " said the doctor. 

" Yes, sir. hut for the elevator there would be such a 
getting up and down stairs that business \\-ould be im- 
possible. One of these big buildings," said Adiram, as 
they stopped opposite one in Dearborn and Jackson 
Street, "one of these big buildings will have as 
many as fifteen at sixteen elevators constantly going 
with such rapidity that there is no loss of time between 
the first storey and the sixteenth. Some of them have 
restaurants .dose to the roof uith a kind of summer gar- 
den at a heiglit usually supposed only to be attained by 

" I noticed," said the doctor, " as I was coming here 
that your business premises arc about as high as our 
tallest monuments in London. The Monument at London 
Bridge, which was built to celebrate our great fire, is only 
202 feet high, and I see that some of your buildings are 
well up to that height. Most of your ' sky-scrapers,' as 

you call them, are up to 
200 feet, and Nelson's 
Monument in Tra- 
falgar Square is only 
1 76. It almost makes 
nne dizzy to think of 
iloing business twenty 
or thirty feet 
higher than the 
Corinthian columti 
upon which vte have 
mast-headed our Ad- 

"But," said Comp- 
ton, "what kind of 
foundations have yot 
that you can rear such 
gigantic piles?" 

" The foundations 
are one of our greatest 
difiSculties. Even if we 
dig down thirty or forty 
feet we still fail to find a sufficfently solid base on which 
to rear buildings such as these, which weigh from 100,000 
to 200.000 tons. Therefore it is necessary to make a 
foundation consisting of a solid mass of steel gilders and 
cement grouting, upon which the buildings can safely b« 
reared. The soil is about the worst that could have 
been chosen on which to rear such monstrous edifice* 


The Queen City. 


Tliey a^ ^'' l^^''^ upoD the sand, or rattier 
through the aevcu or fourteen feet of sand 
which forma the surface of the soil, and 
gre floated, as it were, upon a soft jelly-like 
clay, which yields like dough to tlie pres- 
sure from above. Hence, when one of these 
buildings is b^un the liist thing doue is 
to cover the site with !lat pads, eighteen 
inches thick aad eighteen feet square, 
made of alternating courses of st«el beams 
laid .crossu'^se, filled in, and solidified with 
cement. By this means every pillar oa 
which the structure has to rest has under 
it such a pad, and all the pads togeth<-r 
cover the whole of the basement. Experi- 
ence has proved that these enormous build- 
ings so supported do not sink, while much 
lighter buildings buHt in the ordinar)- way 
settle ruinously. The outside shell of a 
building has nothing whatever to do with 
the structure itself, and could come down 
without endangering the solidity of the 
raa in building, which is made of steel girders 
bulted together. The outside is filled in 
with teriB cotta or whatever materia i is 
deemed advantageous for the sake of orna- 
ment. But the interior ia quite distinct." 

"Apart from the economy of ground 
space, what advantage do these huge build- 
ings offer ? '■ asked Com^ton. 

"Oh," said Adiram, "they immensely 
facilitate business ; 3'ou have everything 
under one roof. Take, for instance, the 
Monadnock block, wliich we are just pass- 
ing. It is the largest business building in 
the world, although it is only sixteen stories 
high. It has nearly feet frontage on 
this street, and accommodates no ^wer 
than 6,000 persons, or more than the popu- 
lation of Chicago when first the city was 
incorporated. To run a building like that 
properly will require thi; ser\-ices of twenty 
elevators. This block, by the way." added 
Adiram, " is the first build'ng in which the 
aluminium elevator was first used. Before 
long they will be the only elevators in use." 

" The disadvantages of these monsters," 
said the doctor, " arc, however, by no means 
inconsiderable. They d.-irkeD the street, and 
depreciate the value of surrounding pro- 
perty.- and are practically out of the reach 
of all fire-extinguishing apparatus or ordi- 
nary fire tscapes. And then all your 
buildings are so hideously rectangular. 
Everything is at right angles in Chicago. 
All your streets are laid out witli mathematical 
accuracy like a well-constructed gridiron, and your model 
of architecture seems to be the packing-box. This Monad- 
Bock block, for instance, is simply a gigantic conglomera- 
tion of packing-boxes." 

" You can hardly say that of the building we are now 
approaching" said Adiram ; " it is the Board of Trade, 
whose tower rises joo feet above the pavement. It is 
one of the landmarks of Chicago. It may not be one of 
the most beautiful buildings in the world, but at any rate 
It is not a packing-case. Even if it were a packing-case 
it would deserve attention, for we fix the price here for 
the bread-stuffs of the world. Christendom prays, ' Give 
us this day our daily bread,' but in this building Chicago 
Exes its price. ' 

" By the bye," said the doctor, " is this what was called 
the burned district ? " 

"Certainly," said Adiram, "the fire swept over the 
whole of this. It is only twenty-one years ago since 
the whole of this region was one mass of smoking 
ruins, but a disaster which would have crippled most 
cities was to Chicago no more than the singeing of 
your hair at a barber's shop, which only makes it 
grow the more, yet the net loss of property amounted 
to neariy 300,000.000 dollars. It was about the biggest 
bumt-sacrifiee on record. At nine o'clock on the 9th 
of October, 1871, Mrs. O'Leary's cow kicked over a 
paraffin lamp in a shanty in De Koven Street. There 
ivas a high wind, the weather was dry. and the flames 
simply ate up everything covering a tract of territory 



From the Old World to the New, 

As he was speaking they were startled by the clanirinB 
^of a gong some distauce dovin the street, on heanne 


tl.ree and thrce-quarter mibs along the lake-froat and a 
"'^^:^!5?;dSen it happene.^" said the doctor. 

" Were many Uves lost ? ' , . ■ 

•• Considering that it burned out loo.ooopeople, itis very 
surprising that not mote than 300 penshcd in the fare; 
n 000 buildings vrent dou-n, including eight bndges and 
half of the best buildings in the city. It was a terrible 
disastcf , and yet it did more to make Chicago what Chicago 
is than the greatest benefit that could have been desired by 

her citizens, ' , . - ^ • 

As they ^vcre strolling along, admiring the imroenss 
width of the streets, in which four street cars ran side by 
side, with ample room for the rest of the traffic, they came 
10 the City Hall. 

"Something better than the packing- ease style of architec- 
ture here," said Adiram. " We started to build this six ycais 
after the fire, and it has cost us nearly t\ra milUon dollars. 
" Is Cliicago as bad as New York ? " said Dr. Wynne, 
" As bad as New York, sir ! " said Adiram, as if he could 
not trust his ears. '■ Did you say as bad as New York ? 
Sir, the Chicago Mnnicipality is not perfect, but there is 
not a town in your country which would not be glad to 
^ange places with Chicago in this respect." 


"in what respect ? " said the doctor. 

" First of all in the death-rate," said Adiram. '' We 
have built a city upon a bog, and one of the tasks which we 
bad to undertake, atiout the time when you were fighting 
your Crimean War, was the hoisting up of the best part of 
the town about eight feet higher than the level on which it 
was originally built. We had to put screw-jacks under the 
ioundations and hoist the buildings tip to such a level ae 
corresponded to the new grading of the streets. It ws 
an unparalleled enterprise. To build the city \vaa remark- 
able, but to take out its foundations and hoist its buildings 
iiiglit feet in the air was a still more remarkable feat. Well, 
■we had hardly accomplished it, M-hen the fire came and 
burned us up. Since then we have rebuilt the city as you 
see it. Hut, notwithstanding the marshes on which we 
stand, and all the diiEculties we have to meet, our death- 
tate is only twenty-two per thousand, which is lower than 
•hnost any city in the world, excepting London. Even 
London is only a unit or two below Chicago. From a 
sanitary point of view, therefore, Chicago may be said to 
stand at the top of the tree," 

" But how about crime ? " asked Compton. 

"Sir," said Adiram, " if we are a httle behind London 
in the matter of sanitation, we are much ahead of her in 
-the matter of pohce." 

which the drivtri drew to one side to leave a clear space 
for what at first Co.-npton and Wynne took to be a fire- 
engine. On its nearer approach, however, they saw only 
a blue-painted wagon, drawn by a team of spirited horses 
which were galloping down the street as hard as any fire, 
engine. In the wagon were some policemen. 
■■ What is that?" said Compton. 
'< Oh, that is a patrol wagon," said Adiram, " britiginj 
up officers to where they are wanted. We have got some 
thirty-five of these in Chicago. They are kept constantly 
ready. The te I'; phone-call system is so perfect Ihit 
nothing can happen in any part of the town without its 
being immediately telephoned to the police head-quarters. 
This enables us to do with much fewer police than would 
otherwise be necessary. Every constable knows that il 
he has a job which is too much for him, he has only to 
make a call to hesd-qnarters and in a couple of minutes a 
patrol wagon will be galloping to his relief. ' The conse- 
fjuence is that in Chicago, with a population of ij millions 
and an area of 180 square miles, we manage with 3,00c 
policemiTn, although we have as motley a population of 
the scum of Europe as any city in the world. If Londno 
>vere policed at the rate at which 
Chicago manages. }'ou would hate 
to disband half the Metropolitui 

" Yes," said Compton, '■ that is 
true ; we police 5,000,000 of people 
ulth 15,000 constables, whereas you 
police li million with 2,000. At 
this rate we ought only to have 

"Yes," said Dr. Wynne. "But 
what I was meaning was not sc 
much sanitation or police as muni- 
cipal government. Is Chicago 
governed by the best of her citi/ecs 
or the worst ? Do the rum-sellers 
rule the roost, as they do in New 
York, or is the work of governing 
the city undertaken by the most 
public^spirited citizens ? " 

" Well," replied Adiram, '■ the 
proof ol the pudding is in the eating of it. There are 
no doubt things which need mending in Chicago. 
The clearing ol rubbish from the streets and of garbage 
from the houses leaves much to be desired, arid there 
are here and there blots upon which you can put 
your finger. But Chicago has a right to be judged by 
three things. First, that we have the most beautiful 
system of parks tud boulevards of any citj' on the 
continent ; secondly, that no emergency has ever cotne 
upon Chicago with which the municipality has not been 
able to cope; and thirdly, the unparalleled difficuUiei 
which have beset the city have been overcome so econo- 
mically that the finance of Chicago is a marvel of all 
those who know the figures." 

" And what are these figures ? " said the doctor. 
" The revenue of the city is about twenty-five mjj""' 
dollars and the expenditure about the same. The debt, 
however, is the smallest in proportion to the populaOoo 
of any city in the world. Including five million doUax 
bonds issued in connection with the World's Fair, ux 
city debt is not twenty million dollars, or less than on« 
year's revenue. The real estate property of the city many 
times exceeds the whole of her debt The twenty-bw 
million doUars include the whole cost of pohce, fire depart- 
ment, education, and walrr," 

The Queen Citv, 




"Vour boulevards are all very 
well," said Compton, " but they must 
ijtcrrupt traffic terribly." 

" It is easier," said Adiram, " to 
keep business traffic off a boulevard, 
even if it stretched like your imagi- 
nary Rotten Row from the Marble 
Arch to the Bank, than it is to keep 
t'lem off the railroads which cross 
Chicago in all directions. People get 
used to anything, but they take longer 
to get used to our railroads than to 
ret used to the perils and the tar 
B.ore fatiguing delays that come from 
f.e way in which trains are tun at 
levd-ciossings right into the heart of 
the town." 

" The railroads made Chicago, they 
say," remarked the doctor, " and is 
the clay to grumble against the 
potter ? " 

"But." said Mr. Adiram, "they 
might diminish their blood tax. 
Six hundred lives offered up per 
aEnum constitute the heaviest 
■acrifice of human beings which 
Moloch even exacted from a single 

" What IS that stately building ? " 
oaid Compton, as a turn of the street 
brought them in view of an immense 
and newly erected pile surmounted 
with graceful pinnacles. 

"ph," said Adiram, "that is one 
cf the handsomest buildings in 
Chicago. Nothing of the packiog- 
case about that, ' said he, •rather 
•aragely. " That is the Women's 
Temple which has been put up 
by the ■Women's Christian Tempe- 
rance Union, of whicii you, of courso, 
have heard. It is the greatest women's 
association in the world. It is a 
much more handsome edifice than 
any otiier of the same kind, and 
It is a standing monument of the 
energy, zeal, and businesf capacity 
of the women who built it," 



" Is there much need for 
temperance work in Chi- 
cago ? " asked the doctor. 

" Tem perance work , 
sir," said Adiram, " is 
needed everywhere, espe- 
cially in Chicago, where 
the pace is so fast that 
stimulants are oftec re- 
sorted to as a whip or a 
whet. You can take a 
drink more speedily than 
you can eat your lunch 
even at Chicago, where 
the meal only lasts fifteen 

" Have you many pub- 
lic-houses in Chicago ? '' 
said Compton. 

"Well, sir," said thtir 
friend, " we reckon we 
have about six thousand 

women's temperance temple, CHICAGO. 

of them in Chicago. They pay for their licenses about 
three million dollars a year. Of course our Germans drink 
endless quantities of beer, and we have forty-three 
breweries turning out twenty-one million barrels every year." 

■' How dtes the price of beer run ? " asked Compton. 

" Five cen:s a glass," 

"I never saw such a t-ivopenny-halfpenny country as 
this," said Dr. Wynne ; " ajd. in the elevated railway, 2jd. 
in the tram. ajd. for a glass of beer ; even for blacking 
your boots, it is always z^d." 

"But as the sun is setting," said Adiram, "you 
had better be making your way back to the hotel 
You are staying at the Auditorium," said he to Dr. 
Wynne, " are you not ? In that case we had better go 
there by the Masonic Temple and the Tacoma, which is 
one of our largest sky-scrapers. We will also pass the 
nev\' public library, and return by the Lake Park." 

"The Masonic Temple is large enough in all con- 
science," said Compton, "but I can't say that architec- 
turally I think it an addition to the beauties of Chicago." 

" Stands 260 feet high, and has 20 storeys," said Adfram. 
"Has an elevator capacity (or 40,000 pafsengers, and a 


From the Old World to the New. 

drill-room on the eighteenth story large enough to hold 
1,500 people. There is a garden on the roof in which an 
orchestra plays while refreshments are served. It could 
not be built much under three million doUara. What 
more could you desire ? " 

Compton vvas silent. To such an argument he could 
make no reply. 

After passing the splendid new library, the party came 
to the lake front, and sauntered slowly home through a 
small park, which was little better than a large boulevard 
bf the sea. 

The sun had set, and the stars were faintly visible in the 
sky. There was a slight breeze froo) the lake not so re- 
freshing as that which is laden with the salt sea foam, but 
all the same very pleasant. It was with a feeling of com- 
plete satisfaction that Dr. Wynne found himself back in the 
paiatia) hall of the Auditorium. 

" Well," said Mrs, Wills, as he called at her room to bid 
her good-night ; " what do you think of Chicago ? " 

"I shall sleep without a pillow to-niglit," said he, 
" or rather I will put my pillow under my shoulders in order 
that I may train the vertebra of my neck to an angle of 
forty five degrees, otherwise I shall never be able to see 
the tops of the builJi gs." 

Chapter XIIL— On the Shores or the IniXM) Sea, 

" What a bewildering impression the Great Show Iea^■es 
upon your mind," said Compton to Mrs. Irwin, with whom 
he was sitting at dinner in the Palmer. The rest of the 
company had dined earlier, and the two were alone 
together, an aixangement which. If not devised, was at 
least in no way opposed to the inclinations of either. 



yoSr?^"" ''''' '^'^ *^^ '" "^'^ "'« " And an by 

" Yes," he replied " 1 wished to see the Fair alon^ :>n,i 



that the eye can tell you, might be as boundless a. ,), 
Pacific This It )3 which, to mv thinkinu hjb-^ ;? ' "■* 

WorldsFair from allthe other LhifeltreS^^ 
panion." '"" '^'^'^^ ^'^ ^^^'^^ -^ ^^^^^^^^r-^i^Z"^:^. 

■■Yes, I may say all of them, includina the M„ 
Exhibition twenty years ago, which is not usuallv i^Tf"! 
amongst the World's Fairs. And none of S InM f'^'*' 
moment compare ^vith the Chicago show, forlneStt™ 
had the inestimable advantage of combining the attract!™, 
of land and water. Paris did her best with her mif u' 
little mill stream of a Seine, and the f^w difnt ^''^?'' « 
the grounds. But her best ^sllmug^^^r^,^.'^ 
splendid exp.inse of ocean with the preat lairnn^. „ ■ 
I^land^^^ There Is a. illimitable ^^l^TZ^Z 

at east It is seven miles off, and we can g^tXr™' 
haJf-an-hour by rail, as against three .ftuaitcrB of an hi. 
by boat or cable car. The fare, a shiniit?e?ound Wp is 
he same by rail or writer, and it is only j^d, each ,Zw 
tram. So 1 save time by avoiding the uneasy deep 12 
Its homble suggestions of sea-sickness," ^ 

"You need not fear sc;i -sickness on the lake" said 
Compton, ■• This morning It was like a mirror, and there 
was hardly any perceptible motion on the raaBnlflcentlv 
equipped steamer. There is no doubt about one tUng! 
and that is that m the art and mystery of combimno 
luxury with safety on passenger steamers, the American! 
beat the Old World folk out of sight. And although^ou 
lose fifteen minutes, you gain in that fifteen minutei what 
you might well cross the Atlantic to see. The approach 
to every Exhibition is one of Its greatest charms Who 
can forget the stimulating, eerie attractiveness of the firat 
sight ot the cupolas, the pillars and the quaint oriental 
domes, all flag-begirt and colour-bright, which cauaht the 
%t "! y°? ""f^? ^^ ''la^e dc la Concorde in Paris, Id 
1B89 ? Multiply that effect a hundred times and you have 
some idea of the fascination that you lose if you eo bv rail 
or train to the Worlds Fair. I f you want to see London. 
sec It from the top of an omnibus ; if you want to see j 
Chicago, look at it from the deck of a lake steamer For I 
It 13 not only the Exhibition that looks well from the sea- ' 
I cannot call it a lake, to me a lake is a sheet of water 
you can see the other side of, and there is no other side 
visible in Michigan ; you start for the outer harbour, the 
mouth, of which the dirty Chicago river Is the narrow 
gullet. 'Vousce the whalebacks steaming into the port, 
tug boats are plying busily about, in the offing the white 
sail of_a pleasure yacht (laps against the mast. All is I 
animation, movement, life. You think New York is a great ' 
shipping port ? Chicago last year had fifty per cent, mora 
arnvals and clearances than New York. It is the greatest 
Bhtpping place in America." 

'• Are the ships lying in the docks ? " enquired Mrs. Irwin. 
„ ',' ■t'ocks ! '■ said Compton, " No, there are no docks in 
Chicago, Chicago receives its ships as a man recei^'es 
his meals. You see them go in at his mouth, but he tucks 
them away out of sight. So it is with Chicago, A dirty 
river enters the city from the lake, crosses its business 
quarter at right angles, and then dividing to right and left 
gives the city a river frontage of a kind of tu-enty-t\vo 
nav-igable miles. All along the banks of the river and 
Its branches you see the huge elevators, or great timber 
yards where the ships discharge and load their cargo." 

'■A river in the heart of the city!" said Mrs. Irt^in, 
" °^t '* "°* P'ay ^^^ mischief with the street trafSc? '" 

" They say there are fifty bridges in Chicago, said 
Compton, ■' most of which swing open to allow ships to 


On the Shores of the Inland Sea. 75 

pass. The delay is, of course, considerable, but the con- " [ ont ^k^^tJ «i, 

tenie..ce of water transit to your warehouses is so great, and Vm Cef ^tT'"'^- ^' "'^ ^^^^ between Monroe 

Chicago prefers to p.t up with the loss of ti.e. and isVen ^ILT, 'S ^'^ S^ L^ra^d^^^U^^airnf^^^ 


developing a teiJge-sense by which the citizen is able to 
'Mvine beforehand when a bridge is about to open." 

•-k-lfn 8^^^ ^°"-'^ '"'* '" Chicago." said Mrs, Invin, 
out tell me about the Exhibition ? '' 

southern breakwater, we steamed along the shore. You 
see the city, 'the best built and the busiest in the world 
they say, stretching mile after mile under its cloud of 
smoke. The worst of the smoke-pall, ho«'ever, is left 

If I 

' I 

Bird's-Eye View of 


The World's Fair at Chicago. 


■ ^''nurafturfraandLiberjlArtBuadin?. 
. Ajp-iculiure Bujldiriir. 

■ "cajP"'™' Prrislyle and Music H«ll 
Cisino and pf, r 
I^ Ribidj Convtnt (Where Columbui 

Retired >* 

- Torf Mty Building, 

7- lJ*iry. 

« Liv* Stijck Exhibit. 

9- Storlt Pivilion 
!o. Mich in. rj. Hall. 
II Admjnistbtinn Buildiut. 


13. Railroad Buirdinj^. 
IV Elect rid tv Buildinjf. 
14 Mines Budding. 

15. TransporUtion Huildin^. 

16. Horticulture Building. 
1?. Midway- Plaisancc. 

18. Washinjrton Park. 

19. Woman'! Building. 
Bo^ Moving; Sidewalk. 

ai. Reserved for States Buildiaga 
sa. Building of the .'?tale of Indiint 
a 3. Puilding of the Slate of lUinoii, 
B4* Fisheries Building^, 

as. U. S. Government Build inc. 

a*. V. S. ttavy Eihibil. 

37- Buildings of France, Mexico, Geroianv. 

a8. Kn^tand's Buildinr. 
=9. Art Galleries and Annex. 

30. Building ot the State of Washington. 
:<i. Fuildinp of (he .Slate of Pcnn»vlvania 

31. Budding of the Sute of New Vork 
33. Building ot the Sute of iMaauchu setts 
.14. Pavilion. 

31- WooCiid Island. 



From thh Old World to thl New 

behind you. Out at 
sea all is bright and 
cloudless blue. As 
you get a mile or t^v•o 
aouthwaid the smoke 
thins, and by lire 
time you catch the 
tirst sight of the Ex- 
hibition buildings 
) ou might almost l)e 
in Paris, the air is so 

"And were you 
disappointed ? You 
expected a great 
deal, and ' blessed 
are they that expect 
nothing.' " 

" Disappointed ! " said Compton. " I was prepared for 
disappointment, for ever since 1 landed every second 
person we had met had performed a special fantasia of 
his own In praise of the Worlds Fair. But I •svas agree- 
ably disappointed in not being disappointed. The first 
vit .i' of the distant domes gleaming like gold in the morn- 
ing sunlight reminded me of the great cathedral of St. 
Isaac's, St. Petersburg. When we came nearer and saw 
the immense white palaces looming large over the trees, 
I thought of Constantinople with its mosi]ues and its 
minarets, and when we steamed alongside tlie Jackson 
Park, near enough to see the architt-cture, and the 
statuary, and the fountains, and the electric launches 
glancing like dragon flies oixr the surface of the lasoon, I 
thought only of \'cmee, ' She seems a new Cyb^le frcsli 
from ocean,' but even Venice itself, that fair bride of 
the Adriatic, must fall back upon the traditions of her 
history in order to comp.ire with tlie splendour and the 
glory of the World's Fair. The white city of gorgeous 
palaces which they have reared by the shore of the tide- 
less sea is indeed a lordly pleasure-house not unworthy of 
the dreams of tlie unero« ned monarchs of this vast and 
fair dominion." 

"Dear, dear! "said Mrs. Irwin, "you are getting quite 
mmanlic about the show. Did it look as well when you 
landed ? " 

'■ Nothing could exceed the first impression 



plied '■ That vision of radiant loveliness will dwell for ever 
upon the mind. But it is no small praise to say that a neater 
view did not disenchant, although it could not heighten the 
general eftcct. Too often, as in Rome for instance, you 
apc charmed with the beauty of a building or a ruin at a 
distance which, on nearer approach, is as ftctid and 
filthy as a dunghill. At the Worlds Fair there is no 
hideous contrast ol that kind. Of course, e\-ery Exhibition 
is more or less like every other Exhibition, and the con- 
trast between this World's Fair and other World's Fairs i» 
greatest when the sea comes in. Machinery in motion 
m Fans or Chicago is still machinerj' in motion, and the 

exhibilion.s of manufac- 
tures, wherever you 
find them, are more 
or less like a great dry 
goods store. But the 
lagoon and the wooded 
island in the take, aiid 
the stately buildings, 
and, above all, the great 
grey, limitless expanse 
of the sea stretching far 
away to the horiEon — 
these have never been 
seen before in any Exhi 

"Do you find much 
difficulty in finding your 
way about ? Most exhi- 
bitions are a mighty 
maze without a plan ! " 

"Oh, dear no, I had 
no plan with me. My 
invariable custom is 
to lose myself on a first visit. You never get to 
know where places are so ivell as when you lose your- 
self. Out m Jackson Park you can never lose your- 
self for long. For the lake is always there, the smootb 
sea walk is a landmark that cannot be mistakeiv When- 
ever you doubt, make for the lake; then you can discover 
where you are, "V'ou are abvays close to water, and ■ 
whenever you are at a loss, take a gondola." 


On the Shores of the Inland Sea. 


"I like that idea," said Mrs. Inviii. "In most exhibi- 
tions yovi have to walk tilt you are footsore, or resort to 
the humiliation of a bath-chair. But to do the World's 
Fair in a gondola— that sounds lovely. How do you take 

"Hire them as you do in Venice. But there are steam 
and electric launches constantly plying round the exhibi- 
tion waters. Some, which carry quite a cargo of from 
thirty to forty passengers, make the roiind trip, stopping 
at every landing; others, the express, make the round 
trip without calling by the \\'ay. But the third is the cab 
of the lagoon, which you engage by the hour or by the 
trip. I went in a gondola, rowed by a gondolier who, 
by his make-up, might have been born in Venice, were it 
not for his delicious Irish brogue, I told the man to take 
me round slowly, and he obeyed my instrnclions. 1 went 
to sleep in the sun as we neared the convent of La Robida, 
and the gondolier rowed me round into the shade, and 
had a comfortable smoke until I woke up, when he took 
me down the great central lapoon, past the statue of the 
Republic to the -Administration Building ; tlien we turned 
northward, and circumnavigated the Wooded Island. I 
then left the boat, and took a stroll down the Midway 
i'leasance, wiice all the side-showa are. It will be the 
nost pnpular part of the Fair, .\fter that I retraced my 
stepw, took an omnibus-steamer at the nearest landing- 
stage, caught the return steamer at the harbour, and here 
• I am." 

" You don't seem vei^ tired,'* ohsen'ed Mrs. Invin. 

" No, I am not," he said. " I usually get exhibition 
headache, but to-day, whether it was because of the air, 
or the water, or the nap \vhicli I had in the gondola, I 
cannot say ; the (act, however, is indisputable, I am as 
I'resh as if I had not spent eight hours in the World's Fair. 
But where shall we go now we'i'e finished dinner ? '' 

" 1 want to go to the Libby Prison," said Mrs. Irwin. 
" Don't be dismayed ! It is not a prison really. It is the 
famous fortress in which the Union prisoners of war were 
confined. It was brought to Oiicago two or three years 
ago, and set up as a National W^ar Museum.'' 

"Well," said Compton, "as I have spent the day in the 
great World's Temple of Peace, let us spend the evening 
in the midst of the memorials of the great Civil War." 

Compton and Mrs. Irwin got into a Wabash Avenue 
cable car, and were soon landed at the castellated gate of 
Libby Prison. 

" How things have changed ! " said Compton. " I am not 
an old man, but 1 remember when Libby I'rison was a 
name which filled the North with wrath, sometimes too 
deep for words. It was then the dungeon of the captive 
in tlie capital of the Slave State. To-day it is the trophy 
of the conqueror in the capital of the Free North." 

When they were producing the small charge for admis- 
sion—for Libby I'rison, like the World's Fair, and like 
everything else in Chicago, is a financial speculation — who 
should come up to the doonvay but Mrs. W'ills. 

She greeted Ihcra eagerly. ■' Oh, Mrs. Irwin," she said, 
"how glad 1 am to see you ; and you, Mr. Compton, and 
where is the professor ? and where is the good kind 
doctor '?" 

At the moment they were passing the entrance. Mrs. 
Irwin turned deadly pale, and did not answer. 

"Dear, dear!" said Mrs. Wills, "what is the matter 
with Mrs. Irwin ? She seems as if she were goiog to 

" It is nothing,'' said Mrs. Irwin. "Never mind, it wilt 
pass. Could you get mc a glass of water'? I'll be all 
right presently."' 

Compton assisted her to a chair, iced water was pro- 
Cured, and Mrs. Irwin said she was better, but there was a 

scared look in her eyes Compton thought he had seen 
once before. He did not exactly remember where or 
when. But it made him uneasy. 
"Tqke Mrs. Wilis through the Museum," said Mrs. Invin. 
" I will stay here and rest awhile." 

Reluctantly Compton obeyed, and soon Mrs. Wills and 
he were inspecting the thousand and one relics of the 
great Civil War. 

Mrs. Wills, however, cared little for relics of battle-fields. 
"Torn banners did not appeal to her. She had no imagina- 
tion of that kind. Pictures interested her more for art 
than for their subject. As for cannon and rife and 
bayonet, and all the memorabilia of the hard-foiicht field. 




s'iie passed by them as if they were wash tubs by the curb- 
stone. .She was in her cradle when Lee surrendered, and 
the heroes and glories of the Great Rebellion were almost 
as shadowy as the heroes and the glories of the Peloponne- 
sian War- She talked more of tlie doctor than of Grant 
and Lee. "The doctor," she remarked, " has been about 
a good deal with my children. He seems very fond 
of them. Do you know whether he has any of his 
own ? " 

Compton laughed. " Not that I know of ; never heard of 
any, although I must say ha would be a capital father. But 
Walter has led such a knock-about life, he has never had 
time to set up a house for himself." 

"You don't mean to say such a charming man has never 
got married." said Mrs. Wills, 

" Ladies," said Compton, "don't seem to interest him — 
at least, not now. At tlie University he was the most senti- 
mental young Romeo who ever conjuredj up a flawless 
Juliet out of any inanity of girlhood. But when I met him 
again, he was strangely changed. Why, I don't know. 
He never opened his heart to me and I never asked him." 

" A disappointment, do you think ? " said Mrs. Wills, 

" I do not pry into the silence of my friends," said Comp- 
ton ; " they are like tlie tomb, an unbidder foot may 
raise a troubled ghost, which no enchantment can lay." 

" Do not talk of tombs." said Mrs. Wills, shuddering, 
" the atmosphere of death seems to hang about this 

" Nonsense," said Compton ; " I never saw you looking 
more radiant since I met you at Liverpool, But the associa- 
tions of the Museum arc depressing. Come, let us go 
back to Mrs. Irwin." 

They turned back, making their way through cortidors 
of relics and trophies, each of which had cost at least one 
brave man's life, and soon found themselves once more at 
the entrance. But Mrs. Irwin was gone. They inquired 
She had not remained five minutes after they had left her. 
Wondering at this hasty flight, they took \be first car back 


From the Old World to the New. 



to the Leiand Mrs. Wills went off to the Auditorium. 
CotJiptin, ill at wse, and disquieted more than lie could 
lay, liumed up to inquire about Mrs. Ir«"in. 

He found her in the drawing-room, pale and (veary. 

"For Heaven's sake," he said, "what is the matter?" 

•■ I m sorr;,-," she said ; ■' pray forgive me I It is the 
turse of my temperament." 

•■ ^Nhat on earth do you mean ? '' said he. impatiently. 
•' I took you at your own request to the Libby Museum, and 
the moment you cross the threshold you turn faint, and 
the moment ray back is turned yovi fly off to the hotel. 
It surelv cantiot be "—he was going to say " that you are 
jialous of Mrs. \ViIIs," but he arrested himself in time. 

" Don't iie vexed with me, Mr. Cosnpton," said she, " I 
cannot help myself You have heartl about the sixth sense 
of the psychometrist, by which one can hear and see the 
sauads and sights which are inaudible and invisible to 
all other mortals. It is hereditary- in our family. Give 
ne the knife with which a mnrder is committed and I see 
the face of the murderer, the form of his victim, and hear fata! blow, and hear the dying groan." 

" I understand," said Compton. " I have read Pro- 
fessor Denton's ' Nature's Secrets,' where it is all ck- 
ptained. and where a psychometrist who is given a bur:it 
bean from Herculaneum is able lo see the whole cojric 
of the eruption which ovcnvhclmed the doomed cities, 
i^xording to this, every object becomes a photographic 
negative, which only those who have this sense can 

" Yes," said Mrs. Irwin, " it is not oaly that, but also a 
phonograph, for you hear the sounds of the \-anished 
voices of tlie dead. I ought never to have wanted to go 
to Ubby. I remember when I went to the Naval Exhibi- 
tion at Kensington, and went over the model of the t'/cfor}; 
I nearly died. There were so many relics of Trafalgar 
fight all around that it seemed as if I were actually io the 
raidst of the battle. My ears ivere deafened with the 
raar ot the cannon. The air was hot and sulphurous with 
tae smoke of povvder. and it seemed wherever 1 wjnt the 
^ u^j slippery with blood and littered u-ith the dying 
r 1, 1 1 '^''' "^ ' ^^'^ ''"'^' re""^™bered that experience 
I ihou.J never have dreamed of going to the Libbv 
Museum. * ' 

. " f'^i "i"'*' '*^">' ''^PPeic'J ttiere ? " said Compton. 

1 had no sooner crossed the threshold of the 
Museum, she said, " than I became conscious of beinz. 
as It were, m the vestibule of hell. A sense of unutterabS 
cespair, of physical exhaustion, and of hot. fw'ered pain 
and gnainng hunger, rose up, as it were, like exhala- 
tions from a marsh at sunset, and I lost a!I sight of everv- 

&/"ilf"''''^'*'''"^' '" ^ '"'''"'="» o^ t^^'o tl-c mist 
cleared before my eyes, and I found myself alone. Yon 
«-ere gone, and so w^s Mrs. Wills. Ddt I ,vas not alone. 
For dchling before me in dread procession entering into 
^e Libbv Fort^ I saw an endless throng of warTwom 

^ittin ^hl'^^f K"'''''^^*'™'"="-^P'"t'=<* ^^^P''^", driven 
rnthm the gates by arm-d men a^ cattle aii driven into 
the slaughter-pen by the drover. On and on and on the? 
came I n an unending stream. And it seemed to me 

™?r'ofTnL°',' Vr "'"^'^^^•^'^^" <>"« borribl 
resenoir of coagulated horror, of piin of pestilence of 

Ja^ "fsp^'^g prayers, wild blasphemy, bitter cwses^ 
toTTZ' ' ''"'"f,! ' ^"'''^ the death-rattfe in th^ 
marehinil.rr'-^"""*''' "''^^ ^^"« ''"I" marching 
Ta^ iZ; ^ ?^"'«,'r ""^asingly to their doom. I bore 

bhe looked very beautiful as she lay on the couch, her 

lustrous bitie-black eyes sceminR all the m ~ 

from their contrast with the pallor of her faw ^^B'*^ 

" Forgive me leaving you, won't you ' " ch^" -j 
beseeching smik. " if you knew how much ^' ' T'"" * 
she added, wnth sonae confusion. " ^'^^ «««," 

Compton bent over her, fascinated bv th,. ou 

which the past as well as the future "^"^ 

to which the past as well as the fi'ii,,™ 
.mveiled. ■■ My dear Mrs. Irwin," he^V'M""^ 



think yoa 

really must allow me to take you' for a dri^Z' ', ■., '— 

""'•^ Get a warm wrap, for the air fi^m .! 'V^l "^^ ^^^ 

lilW after sunset anH JZ..!.V.^!^ "'<= l=lw » ,p, 


.0 be chilly after sunset, and an hou; inZ pa'k ,vill 
set you up again. '^"'^ ^™l 

'■ I will tty," said she, and takine Cnmnt^,,'. 
u-alked slowly to the ele^-ator that^h^Ther u^^^f 
room. Compton remained below, pondering mLJ^.I^ ''" 

ire,vasinlove..ith this charmi':,8 Sl.™:'*^^^ 
he now admitted to himself for the first time nrT*. ■P'^ 
mnch misgiving. His heart was ^Jo^b™ histrd """^ 
notconvinced He was the heart a^d head and c J ^ 
world-wide organisation. Was Mrs. Irwin camw. ^ 
standing by his side ? He had considere™^ q^Sn t 
the abstract long before, and had come to the pSc^ 
conclusion that no woman of his acquaintance wwfd ^ 
other than a hindrance For with him his work was 615? 
and would alwaj^ be first. He might love a womTn. but 
he was possessed by his work. If the woman croas^ Z 
work. It was not thi latter which would give way so hitler 
to he had been celibate, and had lived solely for his Wk" * 
He had conceived a vast scheme compared with which iht 
work of all existing agencies was but sectional and frae- 
mentary. with the exception of the Catholic Church Ewe 
the Catholic Church was less catholic and more sectarian 
than the dream to which he had consecrated his we»ltt 
and his energies from earliest manhood. He was ar 
Englishman ; Mrs. Invin was Irish. He was single- she 
was a «-ido\v. He was v -ealthy, powerful, the centre of 
an association as world-wide as the Freemasons, as poBier- 
ful as the Jesuits. Was she fit to be his partner ? Wa« 
any woman competent to share his lif.? ? Must nottbe 
munders of great societies be as celibate as the Popes' 
The familiar verse of Longfellow hummed in his brain :- 

" ' Oh, stay,' the maiden said, ' and rt«it 
Thy weary head upon this breast,' 
A tear stood in his clear blue eye. 
But stilt he answered with a sigh, 
' Excelsior.' " 

" Excelsior," he muttered. " Yes, but if he had acctptN 
that maiden's invitation he might have scaled the mountaic 
height safely the following day instead of perishing In 
the snow bsfore he even reached the hospice in the pass.*] 
From which it may be inferred that Compton was bad^ 
hit. He resented it. 

" Wa, Wa ! " cried Clotbaire. when the mists of death 
were dimming his eyes. " Who is this strong one wbo- 
pulls down the strongest kings ? " And in like fashion, 
Compton could have cried out against this strong one who 
made mince-meat of his logic, laughed at his resolutions, 
and compelled him to think much more about the owner 
of one pair of saucy blue-black eyes than of the myriad 
multitude of all sorts and conditions of men whom hit 
association was to save. ^ 

" I hope I have not kept you too long," said the oBjert 
of his meditations, as she stepped out of the elevator. She 
%va3 still pale, but she seemed stronger, and she hii^"* 
needed to lean upon his proffered arm, as he condud-- 
her to the hansom in ivhich they were to take their drive. 

" By the hour," said Compton to the driver. "To Lincoln 

Compton at first was silent Mrs. Irwin was not in »• 


On the Shores of the Inland Sea. 


"humour to talk. The liacsom made way across the 
business block, now aimost deserted, to the river. Had 
ihev heen guing to almost any other park they could liave 
iiWeo by boulevard all tiie way. 

Chicago is a city of boulevards. It is villadom demo- 
cratised. The boulevard is the western substitute for tlie 
London square, whose gates and bars are falling before 
ruthless Detnosv If a certain proportion of properly 
holders along any residential street wish to exclude busi- 
ness traffic, they can do so by a simple formality provided 
it does not lie next to any other such street. Then the 
Park Commissioners take it in hand, improve its road bed 
and put up notices, ■' For Pleasure Driving. No Traffic 
Teams Allowed,"' and its inhabitants sleep in peace and 
dream in comfort One such pleasure-driving boulevard 
runs right into the heart of the business quaiter from Gar- 
field Park. Imagine Rotten Row rolled out and extended 
straight to Thrcadneedle Street ! 

These boulevards are laid out specially for pleasure 
drives. There aie loo miles of them already, and more to 
follcw. They arc planted with trees and edged with cool 
green lawns. 

Compton began to find the silence irksome. They were 
crossing the Chicago river. He must say something if 
only to break the silence. 

•• Do you sec that huge building by the waterside ? " he 

" Yes," she said, " I see it ; is it a warehouse?'' 

"Yes, and no,' he replied. "It is one of the wonders 
of Chicago. I was over it the other day. It is a grain 
elevator. You know how grain is carried in England, in 
sacks. They could not do that here. They have not the 
time. Grain in sacks is a solid ; in bulk it is, so to speak, 
fluid. These elevators are gigantic grain pumps, built like 

" How do they work ? " said Mrs. Irwin. 

"A great 'n aiine leg,' like a gigantic elephant's trunk, 
filled inside v ith an endless belt carrying buckets, each 
holding iJ* '"jS. of grain, is thrust down into the ship's hold 
where tiie grain is lying loose. The belt revolves. The 
buckets fill themselves,and arc whisked up to the top of the 
building nt the rate of bushels an hour. After that 
it works itself down by gravitation, weighing itself and de- 
livering itself just as it is wanted." 

"These Americans are very ingenious^" she remarked, 
" what I cannot understand is why other people are 
so slow ia copying their inventions. But where are we 
going now ? " 

'■ To Lincoln Park by the Lake Shore drive," said 
Compton. "It is a lovely view at sunset.'' 

'•Why Lincoln Par*?" she asked. 

"Chicago calls its parks after presidents. They have 
Lincoln, Garfield, Jackson, Jefferson, and Washington. I 
suppose they will now have a Cleveland Park seeing 
that the president was nominated at a Chicago Conven- 

When he was talking of elevators Mrs. Irivin was think- 
ing of far differeot subjects. She was too astute not to 
have dinned by her own unaided woman's instinct that 
Compton loved her, but she was not dependent upon her 
instinct. Mrs. Irwin had developed the faculty of thought- 
reading to an extraordinary extent, and she was often able, 
without being in contact with her subject, to read all that 
was passing in his mind as clearly as if it were wTitten in 
an open book. -When, as in the present case, she was in 
close contact with her subject, she simply read him through 
and through. She saw, as in a crystal mirror, the whole 
confused and confusing discussion that was raging within. 
He had relapsed into silence again, merely remarking, as 
they came out upon the Lake Shore Drive, that this was the 

most magnificent boulevard in the world, stretching for 
miles along the very lip of the great lake, and that the 
mansions of many millionaires studded the wooded 
country inland. It was a lovely evening, reminding Compton 
of the delightful drive he had had many years before to 
the islands at St, c Petersburg. But the islands had none 
of the illimitable swte.) ot ocean expanse which they 
were enjoying on the Lake Shore Drive. 

" I am afraid that you find me a \. r dull companion," 
said Compton, after they had driven for half an hour with- 
out exchanging monosyllables. 

" Not in the least,' sai'J Mrs. Irwin ; " nothing entertains 
me more than your thoughts." 

" But," said he, hastily, " i have not said a word for the 
last half hour." 

" 1 did not say you had," said she. " But you thought 
the more if you talked the less ; your thoughts were more 
interesting than your ivords." 

" You speak in enigmas,' he rejoined. " But we are now 
at the entrance of the park, and tfiere is the great statue of 
the greatest of modern Americans 
— President Lincoln." 

" Yes," said Mrs. Irwin, " a strik- 
ing likeness, they say, and certainly 
a notable monument. But," she 
added, quietly, " you arc not think- 
ing of the man, but of his wife.'' 
W- i' ^\ Compton started as if he had beeo 

Wk lljt ^ s' ung. As a matter of fact, he bad 

K^^Ty 1 b;en wondering whether it would 
<,«! W I ^.jt have been lietter if Lincoln had 

never been married. *"l was think* 
ing, it is true," he said, "how small 
a figure most men's wives cut be- 
side their imsbands in history." 

"You forget that that may l>e noi 
b cause they were small, hut because 
they were great. Self-effacing self- 
sacrifice used to be regarded as » 
'•You would hardly say that of Mrs. Lincoln," oaio 
Compton, " or of Mrs.NVesley." 

" No, perhaps not. Dear me 1 " she suddenly exclaimed, 
what a beautiful spectacle I " 

They were driving past the electric fountain which play» 
not far from the entrance of the park. There was a ffeat 
crowd of sightseers, and the sight stopped a conversatiw 
which was becoming embarrassing, 

Comptorr, anxious to force some kind of a conversation, 
talked of the La Salle Monument. "How little," said 
he, " the original pioneers, French and Catholic, thought 
of the huge Protestant English Babylon that would rise at 
the mouth of the Chicago river ! " 

"Not much more Columbus imagi-ned the New 
World which he brought within sight of Europe," said Mre 
Irivin. " But what a cosmopolitan collection of monu- 
ments ^ve have : the Swede Linna:us, the Frenchman fca 
Salle, an Indian group, the German Schiller, whik^ 
America is represented by Lincoln and Grant." 

They drove up to the base of the Grant monument—* 
colossal man on a colossal horse. Here they got out and 
walked round the statue. Compton proposed to go in the 
corridor beneath the arch. " No," said Mrs. Irwin, " the 
dead are there ! " Compton remembered that three persoiis 
had been killed beneath the statue by a thunderstorm in 
the previous year, when the statue had been struck l^ 

" How do you know ?" he said. 

" I see them," said Mrs. Irwin, quietly. 

They went back to the hansom, and resucied the drive 



From the Old World to the New 

ilong the lake. H w-js ver>' lovely, willi the lake on one 
side, darkening after the summer susijet, and tlie long 
winding canal on the other. They were silent. Coraptons 
heart ivas beating wildly, but bis bead was cool, and tlie 
head and heart held a stormy debate. Many a min ha? 
beld similar debates ; perhaps every man has at vario is 


&SXS't'"''*'r'"=*'f ■"»'="«^' '•"d affection, 
cvttsed X Zl i ^;;=s almost imique : for while he dls- 

^L whorc'.„ni''r ^-^ T 'P*^'"' ^"' '^' ''^='^- She 
EmDn-s-inth-i "^ ,.'" """ con^panions mind as the 

th^Co islJi" '2f!T' ^Tr'"'' '''' el-iiatorial coml^t in 
smce i'- <-™„ ^^J loved Compton -had loved him e«r 

^^i her bTshe'dw'n "" ""^T^^Ki «he knewl" 

husband A:t?ts-::.'^jr;.ss;;iS-'>" 

Some women are so bst m tlie delirium of lov- ,„,, ., 
sellishpnde of conquest that the consciousne!! ^?'^v"'* 
own utter unatnt-ss for the position to .vh?., "' "«" 
would bnng them but adds ze.t to the Dleai! """^^e 
ceiving a proposal. ■■ He loves me. all unfit as I am. 'J' 
would marry ice, although I shouM probably mar r" 

career!' These red eai^l 
were foreign to the aamre' 
and cxpenenced mind of i^! 
wtdow. She was a widow 
tob^ginwith. Sheu-asda^' 
yoyant. psychometric, and . 
, hought-reade She knew 
^^ork; >f a woman helped hh 
work, she might be happy^J 
his vv.fe ; if not^not. NV 
gow of passion, no intensity 
of affectionate emotion, «wld 
stand the test of the dail^ 
renewed disappointment hi 
Davrng to share his hk win a 
woman who did not under- 
stand his work, I 

Watching the tumuic of bis 
emotions, Mrs. Irwin was 
somewhat piqued by noti- 
emg how entirely Compton 
assumed that she was un- 
equal to the post of wifeijf 
the Great Head Centre. His 
heatt pleaded that she was 
charming, that he was in love 
Willi her, that his life was 
very lonely, and that it was 
time he had a home. But all 
these arguments were over- 
borne by li;e imperious repre- 
sentations of the head that 
Mrs. Irwin was not up to the 
position of John Compton's 

At last she eould stand it no 
linger. Suddenly breaking 
the long silence, she said- 

" Well, Mr. Compton, 1 ara 
much ob:iged for your Lind 
feelings towards myself, but 
if I cannot be your helpmate 
I do not want to be your v. ife," 
" Really, Mrs, Irwin," be 
began, somewhat helplessly, 
»- for he had just formulated to 
himself the dictum that no 
ore eould do for a wife who 
\^ as not fit to be a helpmate, 
but he was unprepared for 
so frank an answer from the 
person most concerned. 
" Oh, I kno-.v what)-ou will 
, , be after saying," said Mrs. 

Irwin, wnth a gleam of amurement in her eye. '■You'd be 
remarking that I'd better wait till some one asked mc to 
DC either one or the other before I volunteer any opiuian 
on the subject. But I have watched you turning it over and 
over in your mind this whole hour, and I am tired of watch- 
ing a man's indecision when a woman's concerned Now, 
Mr^ompton, you assume that I am not up to the woik 
Of being your partner in your great world-wide enterprie 
U 1 am not, say good-bye to me once for all, for itl ca» 

Rose at Chicago and Niagarv. 


not help you I would not have yoQ — no, though twenty Mr. 
Comptons came begging for my hand. But I offer yo i a 
bargain fair and square. Yovt want to marry me, but yon 
fear I am not up to the work ; well and good. I am w illing 
10 come and serve you as your secretary, lor t\ve!t'e 
months. If at the end of that time you have proved 
that I can be a real help to you, and you still wish to make 
me your wife, I will marry you If not, 1 will lea vt^ you, 
ard for ever. 1 will never link my life to a man unless he 
thinks he will gain strength from the union ; no, though 
1 love liim as much as I— 1 fear I love you." 

Her voice trembled as she spoke the last wards. 
Compton was profoundly moted. 

'■ Mrs. Irwin," said he, " it is I who am unworthy of yo(i. 
I misjudged you. Forgive my conceit. You humble me to 
the dust by your magnanimity ; at the same time that you 
reprove mc for my unmanly indecision. 1 have great inte- 
rests at stake. Were I alone concerned 1 should never 

''Welt, Jack," she said. 

He folded her in his arms, kissed lier tenderly, and then 
wrnt to 1 is own room, to dream of the consequences of 
that fateful cast of the die. 

Chapter XIV. — Rose at Chicago and Niagara. 

Rose rapidly recovered, so rapidly as to ama/e Mrs. Julia 
and the good Quakeress. In place of listlefsncss and in- 
difference, she was consumed by a feverish impatience ♦" 
get to Chicago Her whole mind fastened upon the single 
thought. The World's Fair, with all ill wealth of garnered 
store, the tribute of vassal continents, the triumphs of ait 
and invention, all these were to her as nothing, and less 
than nothing. The one consuming thought was that 
among the mid«t of the myi iads who were visiting the 
Great Show, there was her Walter. The great Columbian 
Exhibition was a loadstone to her eager soul, but its 


have hesitated, but tiow 1 see those other interests woull 
be safer in your hands than in my own. I do not 
make any protestations of my love for you —you read my 
thoughts far too clearly to need that ; but 1 will ask you to 
be my wife, and not only to be my wife, but to espouse the 
cause to which 1 have devoted my life.' 

And Mrs. Irwin, seeing that he was perfectly sincere, 
said simply — 

" Very well ; as you think I can help you, I will try. 
When do you think we should marry ? * 

"The sooner the better." jaid Corrpton. "I have no 
time for ceremrnes. A quiet marriage in CLicii^o, a fort- 
night in the Yellowstone Valley, and then back to work, 
W ill that suit?" 

" Perfectly. I am free. 1 want no bridesmaids and no 

"All right," said Compton, atid no more ,ves ?aU until 
they reached the hotel. 

But as they parted at her door, he said to her, somewhat 
pleadingly — 

"Manor ?" 

magnetic quality was due simply and solely to the 
expected presence there of one person, who, but the other 
day, had seemed to be baniihed as far from her as the 
fi.xed stars, bnt who had now, in some unaccountably 
blessed manner, Ijeen brought close to her, almost 
within her reach. 

Chicago was a thousand miles off, but Chicago was btit 
a day's journey, or twa days' at the most. There were 
100,003 persons in the show every diy, but if there were 
a million she would find him. And when she found him 
—ah, then she did u'.t care if she died in the ecstasy of 
the longed-for reunion. Siic'i bliss was too e.xquisite 
to b.: ihoug'it of calm'y- S'lc would find him— that wai 

All day long she thought about it, and lived over again 
all the brief and beautiful May day of their lives ; all nighl 
long she dreamed it over again, until the seven long terrible 
years, during which s'.ie had struggL-d alone against the 
awful oJds which t>eset a young friendless anu , .autiful 
girl in London, seemed but as a far-away nigntmare, 
vanished r'tver to return So,-netimes in her dream she 


From the Old World vo thl New, 


■aw the old rision of Ann Hath a way's cottage standing in 
stjange siirrotmdings ; once she thought she saw the wide 
expanse of a great bhie sea, but always, alike on sea or 
land, the vision never passed until At appearwJ, and after 
that, she remembered nothing but a joy that passed all 
understanding, a peace that filled her with a measmeless 

At last the day came when she had made sufficient 
recovery to make it possible for her to take the cars. The 
good Mrs. Juha, who had lived over again her own too 
brief expenence of wedded love, had become warralv 
»ttaclied to her lovely 0rsi/g/ and when, with many 
blessings^ the good Quakeress bade Rose farewell. lulia 
accompanied the latter to the cjr. 

'•Thou mi,st break the journey at Niagara," said she on 
leaving. " It is a good half -way house," 

tsfc in Chicago. .vhere..^r we stop on the r^ad " 
Ihey took the New York Centra! nt the solendtdTv 

s^t'a':^„L"'^^''^• '""* rt ^'^^ '""^-?nJ2 

,r/l f„ 1^ « "^ l^\^ °P °"^ °^*''^ •^st managed iinea 
w the world, Mrs. Juha in vain tried to attract her atte" 

tion to the 
scenery of the 
Hudson. Rose 
looked at it ab- 
sently from 
time to time 
VV'hen the train 
stopped, she 
was almost an- 
giT; " What 
IS it stopping 
for ? " she ask- 
ed, nor could 
she be con- 
vinced that it 
was really ne- 
cessary fo'r the 
most rapid of 
express trains 
to stop once 
and again in a 
thousand miles 
run. When the 
train moved 
on, Mrs. Julia, 
with the rapid 
motion, and 
delighted with 

THE HIcHLAN:^ op the Ht^^sOK. ' '^^.^7'^ 

Catskjlls, was in a state of enthusia<!tiV a ,■ -l ™ 
looked at l=r with pained surpnr h't § '" ^"^ 
After they L^d been an hour'^Vn 'the .»^"* .""'^IJ 
wearily— '° '""^ ear, she ^ 

"I never knew so slow a train in all mv lifr . - 
But the gods, who have not yet annfh ,! \, ■ 
space to make two lovers happy, have a grac 1'^ 'fL^^d 
in sleep, and, after two hours' run. Rose lav .^ ""^J^e 
as the wheels reverberating beneath. ShcSemM ?'t°"' 
them echo with monotonous iteration i?»l^ '" hear 
"Jm coming, Im coming, Im coming " ''"' ""^ "'""SH 

bo far from the train being slow it w:,« 
fastest in the world. It was timed to m=,t!. "^ ""^ "•« 
New York to Ni.^gara, 462 miles !n IcsT t I'an ninrh'™- 
To keep up a speed of over fifty miles an ''?"'»■ 
lourney of nearly five hundred miles^is a l^^orS noTn^|;g 


day ''Vrf fuhf ^f ""7/"" A""^"""- I* «»s a lovely 
.1-L- ?■ ^ .;. "^^''eved from the care of Rose, who wai 
sleeping tranquilly by her side, abandoned heSl7 to Z 

V cTS wirf h'^ '^^"'"""."y --edTandscSS throS 
the new worM Jl T"f- ^" iniprcssion of the si*e ol 
hourTTn the r-?"'!?*^^'™ "P"" ^^'- A run of nine 
theraoutof?hi^^llf '?i? '",*''^ world, would not take 

egard^n^ A™.h. L° ^^"' •T"''^- ^hc English habit of 
^fduallv ^arS",t^'^'P' ^^iJl-T^^e'^ English counties 
U™ t^Vlf i *''=^l^'«- This State, at least, was as 

b^^h Qh ■" ^!i^°" *° P«"^ °' London to Edin- 
3of 1^ m'^""""?^'^^ ^""^ '^g^n to appreciate .the 
Sf Canaan «,^m"°" ' '^T^^'' ^^^ "'^ ^l'"'" "•' "'^ ^^^ 
temt™ Utah ""' ""''" ""^ ""^ * '=°^^-'»* ^ ^^ 

Mrs''hflb*"i''''^'''^' •'"^°y ^^'"""J ^"d turned westward. 

towoS'Sef i^t^eSh'i *'" ^'««P-fi R°-.^g" 
wijciner alter all there was any chance o(. her 



From the Old World to the New. 

■ttaining her hearts desire. It seemed a forlorn hope. 
Seven years Mork strange transformations ia a human life. 
Who could say whether the doctor's heart had remained 
tiue to the girt with whom he had fallen in love so long 
ago ? No one could have blamed him if be had wiped her 
from his memory. She had (led from him no doubt acting 
under the highest motives, but still, she had left him all these 
years -what right had she to hope that a man so brilliant 
end so rtrong would remain faithful for so long to the 
memory of ivhat might have been a dead love ? Suppose 
that Rose got to Chicago, and found him indifferent or 
engaged, or possibly married ! Yet the chances were 
heavy in favour of such a horrible denoutment. 

To nd herself of these unpleasant fancies, and as Rose 
began to stir, she awoke her, and, proceeding to the 
well-appointed dining-car, they passed a pleasant half- 
hour at the table. The navelty of dinner on the rail, 
and the care and comfort that surrounded them, had a 
good effect on Rose, who was belter for her sleep. To 
ber companion's surpriie, she was not only willing, but 
resolute to make a stay at Niagara. Mrs. Julia had been 
way much afraid that she would insist at all hazards upon 
going throTigh to Chicago. Rose, on the contrary, was full 
of Niagara, and talked of little else aU t^iiier-time ; and 
^ter t.iey returned to their own car Rose said to her 

"Adelaide, dear, I saw you looked surprised when I 
•poke so strongly about stopping at Niagara. You dont 
Uunk It showed indifference to -to -him "' " 

" Poor dear !■■ said Mrs, I,dia, - 1 was only too glad to 
hear yoii were ^vllhng to make the break in the journey " 
But.- continued Ross, earnestly, "it is all for his sake I 
want to see Niagara. In the dear old days, when \vc used 
to wander hand m hand by the quiet Awn, he used to tell 
M about Niagara. He pictured it to me in contrast 
to the silent How of the peaceful .trean at our fe7t 

SLVs^ll^lJ'^ r'"' V "'^^' '"^ ^'^^ the 
ttase ess rumble and roar of traffic in the street I 

^ thought 01 what he tolJ me of the thunder of , he 
at Kalis as the catsract phinged over the rockv 
Se into the abyss below. It seemed some imes I ke a 

Sf/f„.rn ^ Bl>di-d smoothly by, unmarked sm^ bv 

fw^f ut Ta* t' ^'n^^^ '" '"^ '^'^"^' Afterwards 
I was t)ut as a foam bubble upon the cataract of life 

pools, tiroujhtortuom gorges, only to be flun-. head- 
fcUtX li'"-™ '- •^^•""'^ Ni^gara-thl;;^ 

of S'4Sd 'Sr 'mlan?'" f' .^'^ ^ '^^^- ^^tl. 
engine bell «as dllil i^l ** "''"'" ""^J" '^^'"'^'^ 'he 
iut^the stltln al nS/""' '^' '"m was slowly running 

filled the aTr " 1 Lol ?, •^'"T'S"'' "'"^ "^ '^' f"«"s 
home. 1 ha -e listened ,o 1 "I"* ^°^; ." '* *«"'« "'»'« 
I «lmost seen, to hea, tl e tone uA- ^'^' ^" y""" ''"°*. 
music." " '"'^ *°°^ "f •"S *0"Ce in its solemn 

«h^hLiruX^,:rFali,'°'''^:' ""^r 'hewmdowof 

cloudless sky. After a while the stars camA „ . 
crescent moon. Then Rose said ■■Co,^^?" ""'" """J 'he 
"Not now," said Mrs Julia ■' -it 71 ., 

Come!" s2td Rose "i waur °' " 

Falls at n ght It was always at night Sritj" '> 

JfO muaalf" *»'"• 

n Lond.n. I want to see them in tne silent 
If you would rather not come. I will go ^y"! .. o-- 
, Mrs Julia hraped on wraps, and they werf^ L 
ing where they got the best view of the Orel t K?^ 'J-'"''- 
long time they stood there silently ThJ^n '" ^°^ » 
hand on her companion's arm. and thev JL i '^'<* ^^^ 
the hotfl. ^ ' ^"^ '"^y ^'oM^ly returned to 

When they rejched their room Mrs Inli, ,. 
by the look of almost ecstatic Joy haT sten'l '""'^<' 
panion s face. j » '=' snone in her com- 

" Rose ? " she said, inquiringly. 

"Oh, Adelaide !' she renlipri "u,.. i i 

.f the .lory of God,'^^'^,';!:^:: irpe'rS^"'^' 

Next day they took the cars again and^lii f"^*" 
weary run they reached the great cit; of Ihj W li"^.*'^ 
When they reached the CeS.erLl^AMif ''!;■ 
Rose got out or to the platform. Rose, vvei i . nH *'"' 
clung ,o the kindly widows arm, no^ev^n daring fo?"!' 
She was m Chicago at last. Hailing a cab l hi" '^J'^ "P'^^ 

■* Kos., ■ she said, "your real najic and your father, 
name jou say is Thome. How was i, you t^ [hJ-'nt:: 

I sem him back the lit.le white rose S uo wiiSa 

traced, so I changed my name, and as I did not know 

to call "'y.f if TluiHe. So 1 was Miss Thistle for se^a 
years. \\ hen 1 published my -Tales from Fairj-bndTI 
/W' """^' '*'- P"h"ishers think it a «.« ^ 

" Silly little girl," said Mrs Julia, soothingly. " Let us 
hope )-ou have had enough both of thorn and of thistle 
You have got (o change jour name to Wynne next." 

Rose flushed and said nothirg. Then as the cab wound 
n and out through the crowded streets, Mrs. |ulia hw 
her companion s eyes glitter with a strange lustre, while 
her cheeks seemed to become paler and paler For a 
whole hour they drove through endless streets that crossed 
each other at right angles, wondrously uniform. Rose's 
hp qmrered. 

"Oh, AdelaHe," she sobbed at last, burWng her face in 
her companions breast, " how shall I ever find him in all 
this wiltierncss of a city ? ' 

•■Courage, Rose," said Mrs. Inlia, "you II find him, 
never Jcar. But first, ive'vc to find your father. Were 
(elling rear his district now, and it will never do for bii 
bonny Rose to come 'to him in this forlorn fashion." 

Rose sobbed silently. The long strain had been too 
great. Lxijertation, braced up too much, gave way before 
the sicni realisation of unwelcome fa;t, and her only rcliel 
was tears. 

At last the cab drew up before a neat two-storey house. 
Mrs. Juha got out, arui inquired if Mr. Thorne lived there. 
Yes, was the reply, but lie was busy at the Expo'. He 
would not be back till late. Would the ladies come in 
and wait ? 

Nothing loth, they paid the cabman, and entered the 


•> % 

The First Parliament of the Engush-Speakin3 Race. 


house. The house-keeper showed them up to the bed- 
room, and seeing how weak and exhausted Rose appeared, 
offered to get tliem a cup of real Eiiglisli lea, which Mr. 
Ihortic always insisted uptm having. 

Hardly had they closed the bedroom door, when Rose 
exclaimed, "Oh, Mrs. Julia, see, there it is ! Just as it was 

,vhen " She clasped her friend's hand and pointed 

to where Mrs. Julia saw prominently on the wall a 
large photograph of Ana llathaway's cottage at Shot- 

It was some time before Rose was calmed, but she was 
quite rested and quiet when she heard the familiar steps 
of her father on the stairs. " Ladies upstairs in my 
room ! " siic heard him say. " Whe can they be, I wonder .' 

1 don't hai'e any ladies coming to " Rose opened the 


"Oh, father," she saidi " don't you know me ? " 

would take her to see it next day, but, f r the present, she 
must rest. She gratefully assented, and, aft<r a few more 
words, she retired to res'.. As she fell a; Ic 'p, the light of 
the sunset had not quite died fiom the western sky, 
and the last thing slie sasv was the photograph on the 

Chapter XV.— The First Parliaucrt of the Ewcush- 
spEAKixc Racf. 

" Here," said Dr. Wynne, as he stepped ashore from the 
electric launch, which swept him rapidly up the waters of 
the l,igoon to the steps leading to the terrace of the Art 
Palace, " here, at least, the F^incess of Caprera would have 
found a dome with a figure on it, ' 
He pointed as he spoke to the colossal figure of Victory. 


Thome was mystified. He was just from work, with 
time-dust on his clothes, and infinite astonishment on his 
honest face. 

" W,iy, Rose, lass ! " he said at last. " My own daughter, 
where have you sprung from ? " 

"Oh, father," she said, as she flung her arms round his 
neck, and kissed him tenderly, " how glad I am to be at 
home tince more." 

For it was seven years since she had been in a house that 
she could regard as her own. Mrs, Julia pleaded an en- 
gagement elscsvhere, promised to come back to-morrow, 
and l.ft Rose with her father. Taking the cable car, 
she returned to the city, and established herself at a 
modest but comfortable hotel close to the centre of the 

Rose was too wearj' to talk much. Her father told her 
that he was doing well, and quite recoixrcd from the 
illness which had led him to cross the sea. He was busy 
at a special job in the Fair, he said. It was not quite 
Bashed, although the Fair had been opened a month. He 

for which the dome of the Art Building serves as a 

" Yes, sir," said his American cicerone, *' that building is 
reckoned the most beautiful palace in the Exposition. Tiiat 
is why wc crowned it with the winged Victory. It cost dols. to build, and covers nearly five acres. It is 
500 feet long, and " 

" Have mercy," said Irene, with a gesture of mock dis- 
may. "You Americans arc quite too awfully statistical 
for anything. Ever since I came to this country, 1 hardly 
dare open my mouth to ask a question for fear of bein;' 
drenched with a shower-bath of statistics. I really 
begin to be afraid, when I remark that the sun is bright, 
that 1 shall be tcld how many miles he is distant, 
and -" 

" How many dollars he cost to put together," said Comp- 
ton. " Without that item of information, no thoroughbred 
American ever rests content. It is a splendid illustration 
of the genius of this wondeiful people. They have only 
one meiewa- d of value, and they never rest till ihey hav« 




From the Old World to the New. 

attaining her heart's desire. It seemed a forlorn hope. 
Set'en years work strange era ions ia a human life. 
Who could say whether the doctor's heart had remained 
true to the girl with whom he had fallen in love so long 
ago ? No one rould hai-e blamed him if he had wiptd her 
from his memory. She had (led from him no doubt acting 
under the highest motives, but still, she had left him ail these 
years - what right had she to hope that a man so brilliant 
Rud so Ftroiig would remain faithful for so long to the 
memory of what might have been a dead love ? Suppose 
that Rose got to Chicago, and found him indifferent or 
engaged, or possibly married ! Yet the chances u'ere 
heavy in favour of such a horrible demtument. 

To rid herself of these unpleasant fancies, and as Rose 
began to stir, she awoke her, and, proceeding to the 
well-appointed dining-car, they passed a pleasant half- 
hour at the table. The novelty of dinner on the rail, 
and the care and comfort that surrounded them, had a 
good effect on Rose, who was better for her sleep. To 
ber companion's snrprije, she was not only willing, but 
resolute to make a stay at Niagara. Mrs, Julia had been 
veiy much afraid that she would insist at all hazards upon 
going through to Chicago. Ro<;e, on the contrary, was full 
of Niagara, and talked of Utile else aU (iiTiner-time ; and 
after t.iey returned to their own car Rose said to her 

"Adelaide, dear. I saw yon looked surprised when I 
rooke so strongly about stopping at Niagara. You dont 
Ibink It showed indifference to -to -him ' " 
•■ Poor dear !" said Mrs. Julia, '■ I was only too glad to 
« J*"!'^"""* "''"'"8 f'' "lake the break in tlie journey " 
But, continued Rose, earnestly. " it is alt for his sake I 
want to see Niagara. Id the dear old days, when wc used 
to wander hand in hand by the quiet Avon, he used to tell 
me about Niagara. He pictured it to me in contrast 
to the silent flow of tlie peaceful strear, at our feet 
Often when I lay awake at night ^nd heard the 
cease ess rumble and roar of traffic in the street I 
thought of uh.t he toli me of the thunder of \he 
peat i-alls ,is the catiract pl;inged over the rocky 
^ge mto the ab,,, belo.v. It leeml^d sometimes 1 ke a 
grabJeofmyoivn hfe In my girlhood of poetry and peace 
tlit^^^^ gI|<Jed smoothly by. unmarked by 

f w« but -.71' f^f ""^r^T^ '" "'\«^"^«- Afterwards 
iwas but as a foam Ubble upon the cataract of life 
^Pt .rresL-ttbly along over cr^l rocks, around viiS 

Cntn K^^'l'"'""'!' ^'^'^^^ ""'>■'" be flung lead- 
tong into the abyss. Fr jm tiie Avon to .Niagara -thev are 
the two poles ot my li'e." ' 

"Nonsense,' s.iid »delaide. caressingly ''vou are nnt 
gouig o,.er ^lagara. You have had a ^^timefLo doubr 
but you are coming out all safe, ne»-er fear " ' 

Jm'^erSasT^hnX-'a^riw^n.t ^^f f^'^^J* 
^-Ntagarawil, seem lonely wiJiVutS'; bu '% haVs'-^'' 

of&dt^VXorimlrd''"'f%'''^r^p«^''- «"'' 

engine bell Was claLtl -i fl """^ -''^^^ *<=J' ^"'o'^'^ 'he 
inl the statin a! nI^L" "" ''*'" '''' ^'""''^ ^"""'"« 

filled the air " 1 L3 ?, -^"""i" o"' ™^' °^ "'^ F"^"s 

home. 1 ha -e listed tn'r «.1"^ '*°'^- Z " -'^*='"^ 'i"^*^ 

I almost seem to L "r ,i- . r^^ ^"'^' '*° >""' ^"°'^- 

music." ^*^' "'*= ^'"'^ of his voice in its solemn 

thef hLlrup:7.ireSJ"°Thl ""' i'T /'"^ "''"•">«' -' 

cloudless sky. After a while the stars cami. „. . 

Falls at nght I, was always at niglu 1 h."^ f'^ •» *e 
n Lond .n. I want to «e tC,^ ,7 ^ t"f »!'* ir voice 
If you would rather not come, I will go mv!,l?"«'"«'it 

-Mrs. Julia heaped on wraps, and thev-«;„, 

ing where they got the best vie^v of thloZll l°T **»"<'- 

ong Ume they stooJ there silently Th^^p , ^°^* 

hand on her companion's arm. and they sloWk"^.'"''* *■*' 

the hotel. ' S'f^^iy returned to 

When they reiched their room M™ i i- 
by the look of almost ecs'aticT^ th« shon/'"! *''"'*<' 
panion's face. ^ ' *' ^"one in her com- 

" Rose ? '■ she said, inquiringly 

" Oh, Adelaide ! ' she replied '' wr h=„^ k j , 
Pf theKlory of God, and -"bel^-d t i Tpe fS ^ '™« 

Next day they took the cars again, and^^r If***" . 
weary ran they reached the great citv of .1,/ w * }^ '^ 
When they reWd the Cen^a^S.^ftM^^^':,- 
Rose got out on to the platform. Rose wen wit ^ '"'' 
clung to the kindlK widows arm. not ev;n d^l^ '***'?• 
She was in Chicago at last HaiC IZ ,!'"«}'> 'PeaJc. 
to the address of^he ^ifce "he' e\'oreVir>i^T "5 
from her father. Th^rne was the namrst ^^^fn^ 

h!n^::hecl\oTp:"r '"^ -f""^ °^ ^ p-'- - ^^^^ S: 


own ha.r. When I got to Undon I did not .^m to^ 
traced, so I charged my nan;e, and as I did not know 
exactly what name to choose, it suddenly occurred to me 
to call myselt Thistle. So I was Miss Thistle for Z^ 
years. When I published my ■• Tales from FaiSinTl 
fiL7" """""■ "'■ P"*'"*''^^'' ''-i^k i' a »<"«-ir- 

" Silly little girl," said Mrs. Julia, soothingly. " Let us 
hope you have had enough b«th of (horn and of thistle 
mil have got to change jtnir name to Wynne new." 
_ Kose flushtd and said nothirg. Then as the cab wound 
m and out through (he crowded streets, Mri luiia saw 
her companions eyes plitter with a strange lustre, while 
lier cheeks seemed to become paler and- paler For a 
whole hour they drove through endless streets that crossed 
each other at rigtit angles, wondrously uniform. Roses 
lip quivered. 

"Oh, Adelai je," she sobbed at last. burying her face in 
her companion's breast, ■' how shall I ever find bim in all 
ttus wilderness of a city ?'' 

"Courage, Rose," said Mrs. Julia, "youll 6nd him, 
tie^-er fear. But first, we've to find your father. Were 
(elting tear lus district row, and it will never do for bii 
bonny Rose to come'to him in this forlorn fashion." 

Rose sobbed silently. The long strain had been too 
great. F.xjjertalion, braced up too much, gave way before 
the stern realisation of unwelcome fact, and her only icliet 
was tears. 

At last the cab drew up before a neat two-slorev house. 
Mrs. Julia got out. and intjuirL-d if Mr. Thorne lived there. 
Yes. was the reply, hut he was busy at the Expo'. He 
would not be back till late. Would the ladies come in 
and wait ? 

Nothing loth, they paid the cabman, and entered the 


The First Parliament of the ENcusH-SrEAKiN i Race. 


house. The boiise-kecper showed them up to the bed- 
room, and seeing how weak and exhausted Reisc appeared, 
offered to get them a cup of real English tea, wkich Mr. 
Thornc always insisted upon having. 

Hardly had they closed the bedroom door, when Rose 
exclaimed, "Oh, Mrs. Julia, see, there it is ! Just as it was 
,^,),en — -" She clasped her friend's hand and pointed 
to where Mrs, Juha saw prominently on the wall a 
large photograph of Ann Hathaway '3 cottage at Shot- 

It was some time before Rose was calmed, but she was 
quite rested and quiet when she heard the familiar steps 
u( her father on the stairs. "Ladies upstairs in my 
room ! " she heard him say. " Whe can they be, I wonder t 

I don't have any ladies coming to " Rose opened the 


"Oh, fallier," she said, " don't you know me ?*' 

would take her to sec it next day, but, f r the present, she 
must rest. She gratefully assented, and, after a few more 
words, she retired to res'. As she fell asleep, the light of 
tlie sunset had not qui'e died ftom the western sky, 
and the last thing she sa\v was the photo^aph on the 

Chapter XV, —The First Parliament of the Ekglish- 

" Here," said Dr. Wynne, as he stepped ashore from the 
electric launch, which swept him rapidly up the waters of 
the litROon to the steps leading to the terrace ot the Art 
Palace, " here, at least, the I^incess of Caprera would- have 
found a dome with a figure on it. ' 
He poiiited as he spoke to the colossal figure of Victory. 





mH iin^nH^^^^^^^^^^^^^h^B 





THE ART PALACE^MEETISG-PLACE of the worlds congress Al'XILIARY. 

Thome \va.^ mystified. He was just from work, with 
lime-dust on his clothes, and infinite astonishment on his 
honest face, 

"W.I y. Rose, lass !" he said at last. " My own daughter, 
where have you sprung from ? " 

'* Oh, father," she said, as she flung her arms round his 
neck, and kissed him tenderly, " how glad 1 am to be at 
home once more." 

For it was seven years since she had been in a house that 
she could regard as her o«ti. Mrs. Julia pleaded an en- 
gagement elsewhere, promised to come hack to-morrow, 
and I ft Rose with her father. Taking the cable car, 
she returned to the city, and established herself at a 
modest but comfortable hotel close to the centre of the 


Rose was too weary to talk much. Hrr father told her 
that he was doing well, and had quite recovered from the 
illness which had led him to cross the sea. He was busy 
at a special job in the Fair, he said. It was not quite 
flashed, altliough the Fair had been opened a month. He 

for which the dome of the Art Building serves as a 

"Yes, sir," said his American cicerone, "that building is 
reckoned the most beautiful palace in the Exposition. Tliat 
is ivhy ive crowned it with the winged Victory. It cost 
670,000 dols. to build, and covers nearly five acres. It is 
500 feet long, and^— " 

" Have mercy," said Irene, with a gesture of mock dis- 
may. "You Americans are quite too awfully statistical 
for anything Ever siuce I came to this country, I hardly 
dare open my mouth to ask a question for fear of beinij 
drenched with a shower-bath of statistics. I really 
begin to be afraid, when 1 temaik that the sun is bright, 
that 1 shall be tdd how many miles he is distant, 
and " 

" How many dcllars he cost to put together," said Cora|^ 
ton. " Without that item of information, no thoroughbred 
American ever rests content. It is a splendid illustration 
of the genius of this wendeiful people. They have onhf 
one mctewa'd of value, and they never rest till they have 



From the Old World to the New. 

feduced eferj'thiiig tu its measurement. The Parthenon 
13 worth so many dullars, the Coliseum so many dollars, 
the Holy Si'pukJire so many dollars, and so fortli. Wliat 
the dollar cannot reckon is not worth reckoning, J guess. 
But, come along, don't let us begin philosophising. 1 want 
to tell you about the World's Congress Auxiliary, which 
ttieets here. " 

" The what ? " said Irene. " Why cannot we have a 
h'lorter oatne'^ All American socielies seem to ha\-e as 
maay litles as a royal prince or princess has in the Old 
World. What is tlie World s Congress, etc. ? " 

"Madim 'said the American, stifily, "it is what your 
Teonysoo toresaw fifty years ago, when he sang of 

• The Parliament of Man, the Federation <jf the World." 

As they departed for the Exhibt r,r . „ 
of Charities and Corrections, the doctor sin ^"«>'> 
Vernon would go anywhere for a sen«iL ,■ "'^«i 
not^.vonder if she were to end by goin^^Ta sla 

-' Oh, dear me, yes," said Comptoii. 

li£*ris ti.iii* Ka.H A .^ .1 aI. . *. 



where with hi in.' 'AndTfiV" more^'horrihU^'iV 
place, the greater her cra^e to g^ ffi Tol T"**" 'he 
into the buildings. 1 believe I have to tafc^l f ■"' 8" 
debate." "-^ P^'' in the 

The three friends entered the spacious nl-,^„ e 
which was to be used as a senate housi^ or sv'^?'''^' 
ber by men of all politics, and nations and creed, u ''*'"• 

"Yes," said the doctor, good-naturedly, "you are quite 
og^t, Jackson, quite right. It is a great id-a this of the 
Auiihary. Hck is the great Senate of Humanity ; here we 
have as exhibits the ideas that shake the world. The great 
minds which think in every language under hea\-en wtll 
MSemble here to exchange ttieir conclusions and to registc r 
their convictions, but in whatever language they think, they 
must express them in Enghsh," 

,'' ^ gfcat parade-ground for all the cranks of creation," 
»ajd Irene, mth a laugh, " with an agenda-paper of ' How 
to Inaugurate the Milleniuum.' I don t see exactly how they 
wul ever get through. I am sure it would bore me t(j 
tfeath. But here cumes my professor. 1 wonder where 
be IS off to?" 
The professor was in high spirits. 
"Oh ,Misi Vernjn," he said, r«proKhfully, "where 
*ave you been? I w.iitod exactly ^ve minutes far yon 
Miore I descended to inspect the sewerage syst;m of the 
^hibitnn. It IS delightful. I ha^-e been a whole hour 
^tching the fimctioninf of that supjrb masterpiece of 
Mmtary eng, neering. i f only we could deal a j effectively 
with our human refuse ' " 

abo^ut se«Sa2^'?^^'^'°^' """' " '''"'' ''^"^''"' 
,J^u' M!^ """ professor, St is perfection. I think 
Sfivetr;.""' '"'^'^'= '" woVderful. Si., thon- 
^em^fH *='' lavatories empty their contents into a 

^^■Well. but tot tell me what Penology is?" objected 

tos SrtK£!!':,rrefr';'?.'^v^ «f <>-'- 

trast it urith th-T »Pphed seience-and you eati con- 

l-««Sg':!:^The S,'; ="'« Vemon." said the doctor, 

hortbleV,n^^-!iS^eTt^of^'^"" ^""/" »^""" °^ 
«ais, cunaiZ little mS. i^T'"^/ .•"°^*^' ««^"s. «read- 


atj.o *^ *' palaver of your Congress Auxiii- 

as yet, too early in the year for these World WliaL"'^' 
to be in session. August and Septeml^r u-Ai .^'''^ 
gathered together in Iricndly converse represent,; " *** 
all the creeds by which man has endeavZed to fn^" °' 
God. Moslem and Christian, Uuddhistand H^h"'''"** 
exponents of every other religious and phiihicS^Z'' 
had undertaken to expound in this UTi-it m-„ ■ ?^ '*""• 
nations what they belief to 1^ n^Y^a-'r^Tonta'd^ 
Of man. But this great (Ecumenical Council of he WoS 
Religions was but one among a series of conferAices^' ? 
were to be held to discus, everything unde heave? tb!?"' 
Si:^'"'""' P-gress,' prosperity, and t hTi!^?,:' ^'^ 

"Wh.nt's on to-day,'' said (he doctor, Kchtlv .. i 
dustnalism or Spooks, Africa or Catholics VVoman^s mlT 
or the Art of Cooking ? t feel my brain bZinl f't'^K 
mere contemplation of their programme '' ^ ^ "** 
"To-day," said Compton, gravely, ■■marks an eooch in n,. 
history of our race. For the first time since^tlfe «f ! 
rupture, there are assembled together under one roof rS~ 
hem^X',^'""' ''"^ English-speaking State in Xr 

iiam^' r'" ""* "•" '^"''"' " " •*"* °^ Pai-Anglican Par- 

'■Sir,'-aaid Mr. Jackson, indignantly, ■'America i< 
big for your Pan-Anglican. English-speakiiJ" buen' 

But now they n-t-is within the buildme aSd the enn 
fereoce was about to commence. """"'"«' ^""^ *"« '^«»" 

It was indeed an imposing assembly. Within the four 
walls vvere gathered together the duly accreZed renr^ 
sentat.ves of every State in the Union L,d of eve' Y nS 
colony, or dependency of Great Britain. BehfndTh™; 
the^ Union Jack and the Stars and Stripes hung sWe^ 

The chairman, who seemed to Doctor Wynne to bear ■ 

considerable resemblance 

to Mr. Blaine, was speaking 
as they entered. He was 
apparently explaining the 
difficulties that had to be 
overcome, before theycouM 
secure the attendance of the 
representatives of . all the 
(H'ean. severed members of 
their race. 

'•With the States in the 
American Union," he said, 
■'there was no difficulty. 
Representatives duly ac- 
credited were deputed at 
once to attent? 'his great 
gathering of the race, and 
under this lofty dome, sur- 
raonntf d by the winged Victory, there arc now gathered to. 
gether the chosen statesmen of every State ai!,1 territory 
from Maine to Mexico. Not one is omitted. Not a single star 

The First Parliament 


that gems the diadem of Columbia but adds its lustre ta mir 
Assembly. But .«^th the colonies and depended , ha 
own the sway of Her Gracious Majisty Oueeti Victoria 
our task was most difficult. To begin witlC Iioiv was Ire- 
land to be represented? Was India to be included ^ Is 
Ihe Cape Colony an English- speaking state, or the pro 
vince of Quebec, or the island of the Mauri liris ' To in- 
vite the Imperial Goveninient of Britain was not cnoush 
We wanted to have the representativres of the peoples 
rather than of the Gai-eriimeiits. Endless w.^re the dis- 
CUSsior.s, sometimes not without anger, but ultimaiel / the 
question was solved by a rough and ready expedient 
Every English -speaking community, territory or depend* 
eney was asked to send one representative, and as manv 
more as were half mflhons of English speaking in- 
habitants. Thus India, Ceylon, the Mauritius, the province 
of Quebec, and the Cape Colony were all represented bv 
two representatives. England, Ireland, Scotland, Wales 
Canada, and Australia, one each, plus twice as miny dele- 
gates as they have miUions of population. Ihe choice 
of representatives was left in all cases to the local goveni- 
menls, in cases where there ivere local governments, but 
in the cas: of Ireland, Scotland, and Wales, the choice 
was left t> the Parliamentary represintalii-es of each 
nationality. There was a good deal of comment in Lon- 
don over this recognition of nations which had no inde- 
pendent existence under the British State system, but it 
subsided before long, and we have here gathered together 
on American soil the first Parliament of the English- 
speaking world. 1- OLir object is simple and eminently 
practical. We me:t to recognise the unity of our race 
whether under a monarchy or a republic, and we meet 
to discuss the wayi and means by which that unity can be 
made more manifestly visible and potent for the blessing 
of the states that are within and of the nations that are 

"Eloquent old man," said Ihe doctor 
''Ilush,' said Comptor, "Is that Mr, Arthur Balfour 
who IS on his h gs ? " 

The speaker, n-boever he 
was, might easily have been 
mistaken for the late leader 
of Ihe House of Commons. 
He spoke with much ear- 
nestness. He s;iid, "Deeply 
as I deplore the fact that this 
great assembly should not 
have met fnr the first time 
at Westminster, near the 
cradle of the Mother of all 
Parliaments, I rejoice that 
it has been summoned even 
although the honour and 
the glory of the initiative 
belongs to another land 
than my own. For of all 
fl» dmiei that In before us who speak the tongue of 
S>hakes[>eare and of Milton, the greatest is to heal the 
«hisin that has rent our race in twain. Compared with 
that all other questions are but of the fringe. This is of Ihe 
essence. But is it possible ? Can the memories of the 
great revolt be effaced ? There are some blunders that 
Me irrevocable. It is not enough to deplore a mistake in 
f f 'u" "'"^^ its consequences. I low often did the prophets 
M C , ^^P^°^^ tt'e crime of Jeroboam, the son of 
nctrat who made tirael to sin t But the fatal rent was 
Ti^'u ^ - Wliere shall we find the anodvne that will 
null the edge of the memory of ancient injury? How 
anaii we atlay the jeabusies of a hundred years ? " 
An irrepressible little man jumped up. 


"Carnegie," muttered 
Compton ; » Carnegie of 

"Mr. Chairman, they did 
not know everythhtg down in 
J udee. We need not go back 
two thousand years for a pre- 
cedent to paralyse our hopes. 
Less than thirty years a^o 
this continent was lent in 
twain by as wide a chasm as 
ever yawned between nations- 
Bttween horth and South 
lay a mountain harrier nf a 
million graves, and ihe Red 
Sea of brothers' blocd by 
. J - J , Lrcthers shed was ten limei 

deeper and widtr than that which was fillfd with the- 
l>lootJ slied in Anglo-American wars. But to-day even 
tlie poUlicians who traded on the bloody shirt are silent. 
Ihe Union is stronger than it tver was. Ameiicans are 
prouder than ever of their common flag ard their 
glorious constitution. Why? Because common interest, 
common sentiment, and, above all, common sense are 
stronger than the memory of old feuds or the rancour of 
ancient prejudice. Has not the time come lor a race 
alliance :* Blood is ihickcr ihan water, and King Shake- 
speare more potent for union than poor old GeorEc Uie 
ihird. » 

" Mr. phairman," said an Irishman— [•' Michael Daiitt, 
I think," said Compton saUo -uoce to his American friend] — 
;' the obstacle to the union of the Engli<h-si;eakinc race 
IS not George the Third. The salt in the ir.crtar that 
prevents its binding is the 
sense of injustice which 
rankles in the Irish race. 
Until you have a hearty 
union of the Irish and 
British democracies, there 
can be no race alliance. 
Much as I long for peace 
and fraternity, it must be 
peace and fraternity based 
on justice. As long as the 
Iriih are denied the right 
ofself-governmcntenj oycd 
by ever}- other English- 
speaking community in 
the whole world, so long 
will you find every Irish- 
man everyivhere active 
against that reunion which we meet to promote. 

" Permit me," said a silvery voice, which was recog- 
nised as that of the wife of the Governor-General of 

Canada, "peimit me to 
express my entire accord 
with the last fpeaker. 
V\'erf: I Irish I should say 
the vsme. But the union 
of the democracies is a: 
band, and no one has done 
more Ihan my friend to 
promote it. Nor is it only 
the democracy— monarch 
and peer alike bow to the 
inevitable— and Britain on 
the verge of federation 
gladly proffers the right 
hand of fellowship to fede- 
ral America." 


From the Old World to the New. 

" Hoaie Rule," said the next speaker, who the doctor 
Mid reminded him of Sir Hfrcules Robinson, " Home 
Rule is the key of Ihe situation. As an empire Britain 
must federate or perish. But without the Irish at West- 
minster, the House of Commons would never consent lo 
devolve any of its powers on subordinate assemblies. " 

" Xo,"* said an .American senator ; '■ it is too late. 
Never can America and England again enter the same 
poli:ical system. Westward s<veeps the star of the 
empire. Let the effete monarchy decay. The future is 
to I lie Republic." 
A i-enerablc-looking Australian stood up to speak. 
■' Why, bless me," said 
Compton, '■ if that isn't Sir 
Henry Parkes." 

" Mr. Ciiatrmaa, I am an 
Australian. We are from 
the newest of the new 
worlds peopled by the Eng- 
lish race. You are celebrat- 
ing your four-hundredth 
bir.hday. We have hardly 
completed a century cf 
growth. We are the land 
of the Morning Star as well 
as of the Southern Cross, 
and denunciations of effete 
monarchies do not trouble 
us. We are republican in 
heart and in head, not- 
withstanding baronetcies and Imperial trappings. This 
question of race alliance appeals to us. We want only 
one flag in the Pacific, and that the flag of the Knglish- 
•peaking communities on its shores. Can we not agree 
■t least ujion a common miderstanding for the joint 
policing of the Pacific ? " 

"This is a practical quealon,'' said a New Yorker, on 
the Chairman's right. "We tvant a regular Court of 
Appeal : a permanent court to settle the questions con- 
stantly cropping uiTbetwecn us. Wliy should we always 
be improvising arbitration courts ? V\'hy not rig up a 
court once for all which would sit as regularly as the 
supreme courts, and to which all disputes about fish, 
seals, etc., can be relegated? Then there are all the 
international questions, sucfi as patents, copyriglit and 
commercial law. Why not have a joint committee to 
endeavour lo bring about some uniform system ? And 
finally there is the question of policing the seas. Why 
should we not agree to regard the Stars and Stripes and the 
Union Jack -s one flag against any foreign enemy ? " 
■'Bccaus.' eaid a stalwart-looking stranger, imme- 
diately before the chair, 
'■ because you Americans 
have not a big enough Navy 
to be able to do a fair deal 
with John Bull If we are 
going to have a partnership 
at sea, let the partners con- 
tribute equal numbers of 
ships to the pool ; other- 
wise, it is not fair. But it 
is not only on the sea we 
need the alliance. W'e 
need it in China on land, 
and in Africa. We need it 

" Who is he ? ' said the 

"Do n't know," said 
Coaipton ; " but it sounds like Mr. Rhodes." 

•■You talk of language as if it were the onlv honA 
between us. It is a good thing, but it is not the onW 
thing. Not by any means. What does the English 
speaking man stand for ? A common language ? Much 
more than thr.t. He stands for industrialism as opposed 
t> militarism, for peace as opposed to war, for libertvaa 
opposed to despot ;sm, for order as opposed to anarchv 
for local self-government as opposed to centralisation fi 
civilisation a> opposed to barbarism. I do not pose as a 
religious man, nor is this a church meeting, but the 
Englisti-speaking race has a creed ^vhich it holds, whether 
i; is English or American, in the unity of the faith. Why 
then, should we be dis'idcd? The work which we have 
to do is to maintain a Roman peace among the dark- 
skinned races of the world, to open up Africa lo civilisation' 
to give the best races room to grow by securing them the 
prior right to the best of the unoccupied lands of the world, 
to establish in the presence of hostile nations ard jealous 
empires a moral force with sufficient strength at its di(- 
posal to boycott the rest of the world into peace. AH 
this lies within our g.-asp if the crime of George the Third 
can be undone; all this \i impossible if the centrifugal 
tendency of the colonics and commonwealths is allowed 
full play. Yi)u in this country have solved the difficulty 
for all du-cllers between Ihe Atlantic and the Patific 
The race hai now to solve it ovtr a wider area, in many 
. lands, lapped by many cceans. The same Imperial 
instinct which led the heroes of your Ci' il War to stake 
the fortunes of the Republic on tl.e suppression cf the 
Rebellion has now a greater opportunity of asserting 
over a wider area the same great law of unity and peace 
as .opposed to anarchy and war. We stand at the ivatcr- 
shed of our destinies. It is for us to decide whether it be 
for peace or war, for union or for anarchy, for the arbitra- 
ment of the s-.vord or for the suprcT.e authority of law 
and justice. In the old country, while our statesmen are 
squabbling about tlie repair of the village pump, the Empire 
is slipping from their grasp. Few among them will open 
their eyes even to the federation of their own half of the 
English-speaking world. To them the federation of the 
race is the v\'ildfst of dreams. The chance which was 
ours is now passing from us, and An.crica may seize the 
sceptre which is "tipping from our ncnelcss grasp." 

The next spe.iker was a smart dapper man of middle 
aje, with some^vhat of a 
metallic ring in his voice, 
and a jaunty, self-compla- 
c;nt air in the tilt of his 
nose and the pose of his 
glass. ■' 1 differ from the 
gentleman who ha^ just sat 
down,' said he, "in think- 
ing that the old country is 
played out. If he confines 
his observations to the men 
who are now at Downing 
Street I fii!ly agree witii 
him, but they represent only 
a minority of the people of 
England, and hold power 
only by the support of those 
whoss heart's desire is not 
for union, but for dismemberment. If you look beyond 
Downing Street to the heart of the great English peo^ 
you will find no shrinking from our destinies, Not 
geotler.'.en, the heart of England beats at Birmingham, 
and Birmingham is ready to-morrow not merely to fede- 
rate the British Empire, but to lay down the laws upon 
which the lederation of the woM will be accom- 
plished. It is as easy as A B C- You have only t« 





The First Parliament of the English-Speaking Race. 91 

expand the principle of the Birmingham Caucus, and the 
tiling is done. English or American, Scotch or Australian, 
it is all one. The same principles are universally applic- 
able. I wo -Id suggest that a Commit ee be appointed by 
this Congress which shall be instructed to draw up a 
scheme, hereafter to he submitted to the represeiitalivea 
of the states and cobnies here assembL-d, with orders to 
report to a Conference to be held in Locdon early next 
year. I say in London because the movement which has 
begun upon American soil can only find its natural 
development in the country from which wc all sprang. 
By that lime I believe you will find men iu poiver at 
Downing St-'cet who will cordially welcome any attempt 
Iu realise the worlJ-widc aspirations of the English-speak- 
ing race." 
"I come from Queensland," said the next spcaksr, 

"and represent nearly a 
million square miles of 
territory, upon the edgfs of 
which my fellow-subjects 
are building up a common- 
wealth not unworthy to 
rank in hnc with the best 
of those represented here 
to-day. The English race 
in its old home may have 
become, as some of the 
speakers suggest, some- 
what effete, but to Australia 
the British lion is renewing 
its mighty youth, and its 
roar will be heard by the 
Ametican eagle trom its 
ejTie in the Rockies. We 
may divide Queensland and subdivide it, or we may 
federate the whole of Australasia into a great dominion ; 
but whether we seem to step backwards or forwards, our 
heart ii set upon the great scheme which has been so tlo- 
quentiy laid before ns to-diy. and, whoever hangs back, 
our motto is ever, ' ."Advance, Auslralta,' " 

" Permit me to say a word," said the next speaker- 

["I think,'' said Ci>mpton, "it is Mr. Urycc, of the 
' American Commonwealth,' but how he got over here from 
his ministerial duties lean* 
not imagine. But whoever 
it is, he seems to have the 
ear of the Congress.*'] 
" It is much to be re- 
gretted if this Congress, re- 
presenting so many states, 
kingdoms, republics, and 
commonwealths, should be 
distracted by any references 
to drmes'ic disputes by 
localpartisans. Lctustake 
the bro.idest possible view 
of things. In England wc 
have been discussing for 
some tim!* what could be 
done towards the federa- 
tion of the British Empire. 

Many of the principles which have been threshed out in dis- 
cussion at the Federation League are equally applicable te 
the Race Alliance which has l5?en discussed to-day. The 
essentials of a united federated commonwealth maybe thus 
briefly defined: -(i) That the voice of the commonwealth in 
peace, when dealing with foreign powers, shall be, as far 
as possible, the united voice of all its autonomous parts. 
(*) That the defence of the commonwealth in war shall 
be the common defence of all its interests and of all its 

parts by the united forces and resources of all its members. 
In order that the commonwealth may spejk vi-ith the 
greatest authority to foreign nations, there ought to be 
a bodj- in which all its autonomous parts are represented. 
The necessity of the maintenance of the sea communi. 
cations of the commonwealths is most absolute. The 
primary requirements of defenca are therefore sea-going 
fleets and naval bases. It follows that we can best attain 
a practical sense of the unity of our Mce by an under- 
standing by which the naval forces of the Empire and the 
Republic should not be regarded as two, but as one, 
under certain contingencies which must be carefully de^ 
fined beforehand. If. for instance, the example of thO 
Triple Alliance should be folloived, the attack by any 
foreign power upon any of the members of the Alliance 
would be considered as directed against all its members. 
It might be further extended so as to deal with certain 
sfjecilic cases. It might be defined as an AngVu-.'Vtnerican 
concert, which would be responsible for the policing of 
the Pacific, the maintenance oJ the treaties with China, 
and the protection of Anglo-American interests in South 
America. The declaration that 'blood is thicker than 
water ' was first used in relation to our naval co-opera- 
tion in the trouble with Japan. It is a principle upon 
which a great superstructure may jet be laised. The 
comparative weakness of the American na\-y is a diminish- 
ing quantity, and every fresh ship that is launched renders 
an alliance upon a footing of perfect equality more pos" 
sible and more desirable. Each power would be free to use 
its navy in its own interests, but both together would operate 
as a imited force in the defence of our territories from un- 
provoked invasion, in the policing of the sea, and in th* 
protection of all unoccupied islands against occupatici by 
non-English-speaking Powers. To this could beadde I the 
suppression of the slave trade and piracy, and the regula- 
tion of fisheries, seal and whale-catching, and all other 
occupations carried on in the high seas. There are many 
other points to which the after tion of this Congress might 
be drawn, but I confine myself to the one paramount and 
most practical step, which would make the Stars and 
Stripes and the Union Jack practicaHy tl:e one flag as 
against the common enemies of the common peace." 

Compton, seeing that no one else rose to continue the dis- 
course, sprang to his feet, and, speaking with much fervour, 
addressed the chair : 

'^Despite what has been said by the gentleman from 
Birmingham and the excellent and practical remarks of 
the last speaker, I must ask you to look at the facts as they 
are. We arc told that, although the present English Ad- 
ministration may not rise to the height of its great oppor- 
tunies, its successor will be more in accord with our 
ideals^ but let tis look at the facts. Take the English- 
speaking communities wherever they .ire to be found, and 
ask, without prejudice or prepossession, to what type do 
they most naturally approximate. Is it the type of the 
Monarchy or the type of the Republic ? 1 see represenla- 
ti^-es here from Australasia, from South Africa, and from 
Canada. Is there one colony on the whole expanse of this 
planet which has chosen the institutions that differen- 
tiate England from the United Statei ? What are these 
institutions? First, the Monarchy; secondly, ihe peerage; 
third, the Established Church. The English-speaking man 
goes forth into ail conti:ienta to found new common- 
wealths, and wherever he goes the polity which he 
establishes is the polity, not of the United Kingdom, 
but of the United States- It is unpleasant for an 
Xnglishman to have to say this, but it is absurd to refuse 
•o see the facts. The Australian is no more monarchical 
than the Kentuckian ; the South African would as soon 
think of establishing a peerage as the New Yorker ; and 


From the Old World to the New. 

eveiywherc the principle of the Established Church is 
^routed, even by tliose who themselves belong to tire 
Establishment in the old country. Nor is it only in these 
three points that Greater Britain under the Union Jack 
approximates to the United States rather than to tin- 
United Kiiigdom. The fiscal sj'stem of ihc colonies ishke 
that of the United Slates. The Protective Tariff may be 
an incident of growth, but none the less the fact remai is 
lint therein colonial Britain approximates to the Unitt-d 
States rather than to the United Kingdom. There is mori- 
similarity between the colonies and the United States 
than between the colonics and the Mother Country, 
Then again, the force of numbers is on your side. Yon 
are already si.tty millions ; in twenty years you will be loo 
millions. The attraction of such a homogeneous mass 
must necessarily be greater than that exercised by a popu- 
lation of half that number straggling for existence on a 
small isUndoffthe continent of Europe. The attraction 
will be first felt commercially, then poUlicaliy. Already 
you are siveeping our West Indian islands into the orbit 
of your Zjllvercin. Canada will follow suit ; and after 
Canada, what next ? There is nothing to hinder your con- 
stitution being extended to include every self-governing 
colony under the British flag ; nay, Great Britain its-.-lf 
could come into the Union if it ao chos?. Already wi- 
iiave had discussions as to ivhether or not Ireland might 
not find Home Rule sooner under the Stars and Strip-'rs 
than under the Union Jack. On the other hand, the British 
constitution makes no provision for the entry of other 
states. If the American Republic were to sue. hat in hand, 
for admission into the British Empire, there exists no 
means by which you could be accommodated. It is othcr- 
ttnseivith you. Hence it seems inevitable that the hegemony 
of the English-speaking race will belong to you and not to 
us. You must increase ; we must decrease. The Victorian 
age marks the culmination of the glory of Old England ; the 
future belongs to the New England beyond the seas. The 
fact that this Congress should be held in Chicago under 
,rour presidency is a significant illustration that the sceptre 
of the race has dropped from our hands, and that the 
leadership is ours no more." 

The deep emotion under which Compton spoke produced 
1 marked effect tipon the assembly. The Chairman in 
^losing its deliberations, said : 

" ^'''^tever might he the ultimate development, no one 
would dispute that if the Monarchy and the Republic 
tvere tojom hand in hand in promoting the federation of 
the race, they would join as equals ; nor was there any 
disposttion on this side of the Atlantic to dispute the 
traditional nght of the Mother Country to the first place 
pnmm inUr pares; but," he added, significantly, "if 
«hete IS ao move on the other side, the baU lies at our feet " 

Chaffer XVI.-The White City of Pau^ces. 

hSnif 1\:^"' "^^ English-speaking worid." said Dr. 
^^^A ^"' *'"■?"•"' *°" °f ''"-a'-", who had Joined 
Vou do not ta.K tnere is nothing else left." 

-^yth«n\£l% "■'''■ "/'''*'5°"'P'<»°' "you«n hardly 
tl-e vwid ,v^^ '^'\''"''^ "^''"^'^ ^ mar^-ellous monument of 

^S^;Sl!c^ru"5,:Sg^-^^ "^ *^^' ^■-'^-*^ 

chii:3;'oPc!dci^o ■a.7f^^- ^'^ ""'^"■*^ "•'' '"^^ "'^-««" 
English ThI =^ K, ^ Chicago is rather German than 
occ«ion,1 Vi '"^^"^''^'""^ ^ an imitation of Rome, with 

but whaTL^rerF'','r"'>J"*^f ^'"^ f'^'y"^ German' 
titll f English about the show? Not even iu 

t'tle , for you 8ee. instead of Exhibitioiu they call U Expl 


race \n 

not English. But the m^ 
d.sui, note ofthe tl 

and in Toronto. Youw.llnot 
f.nd .t m Chicago. Sunday 

^Mri the saloon, and ,h^ 
\\orlds Fair would never 
liave been closed on a Sun- 
clay If the derision had beeo 
left to Chicago. ' 

•• So," said the professor, 

■the ret v suit ofyourobser 

vations is that Chicago is 

not to be the capital of 

place of London de- 


' may be the new Rome ; 
But see, here we are at 

the English-speaking 
throned ? " 

" Chicago," said Dr. Hedvvig, 
it will ne\er be the new London 
the Exposition." 

Nothing can be more admirable than the way in which 
the apprcich to the Exhibition by the railway is contriS«i 
The great Admimstration Building, which recalls the 
splendid central dome of the Paris Exhibition of i88q was 
built uith the express object of being a worth v perch to 
the VV orid s Fair Tins is the Gate Beautiful of the nwdem 
Temple winch has been reared on the shores of Lake 
Michigan for the worship of the Time Spirit. It is, acctmj- 
ing to the plan of the framers of the architectural plan, the 
ceremonial vestibule ofthe Exhibition, and it was planned 
in order that visitors might be appropriately introduced into 
the old world ot art of vvhicli the New Workl of tlie 
West at present knows little. 

As the little knot of friends passed under the Civic 
Temple, Dr. Hedwig called thci attention to the skill with 
which the device of Wren liad been used in constriicUM 
an inner lower dome, 95 feet short of the gigantic dotnl 
which rises 375 teet in height, as the monumental Bate wav 
of the Worlds Fair. 

"The biggest dome in the whole earth, except of 
tot. I^cters at Rome," said Hiram Jones, an American ac- 
quaintance. ■■ Mr. Hunt, of New York, has beaten c\«ry 
one except Michael Angelo, and if the Pope comes to 
Chicago he will find a dome near to his new Vatican only 
20 feet less wide than that on which he looked this moro- 
ing. I guess there is not so much gold on Michael 
Angelo 3 dome as there is upon Mr. Hunts." 

As they passed the building, they saw before them one 
ol the most brilliant and effective bits of architectural 
theatricality that has ever been conjured up by the Aladdin's 
L ^i?*^ 'lie mcxlern showman. It was the Grand Court of 
the Worla's Fair. It deserved its title. 

"Chicago,' said the professor, "has astonished the 
world. Here she lias had the finest opportunity of making 
a fool of herself that a city ever had, and she has not 
done it." 

"No," said Dr. Hedwig, "but how has she avoided it ? 
By eschewing all originality, and severely following classic 
models. Chicago, the city of sky-scrapers, is in this court 
conventionality itself." 

■■Classic and conventional," said Comptcc, ' 'X maybe, 
hut it is beautiful. It is imposing. Nex'erhad any previous 
Exhibition so magnificent a chance, and Chicago has made 
the most of it." 

The scene certainly was very lovely. On either ade 
rose great palaces, which, if they had been executed in 
marble instead of the convenient and economical staff, 
would havie been worthy of the palmy days of Greece and 


The White Citv or Palaces. 

Romp. As the eye wandered dovvn the court, there ivas 
nothing to mar the sense of proportion, nothing to jar 
upon the sense of colour. Down the centre, Hanked by 


lisitor'"ho 'h ^h'' ■ ^r% '^T^^^ ^"'h hundreds of 
jisitors, who had just disembarked from the electric- 
launches which were skimming the water, or from ThV 


th^!^ . r*^* "■"'' ^'"■"''^ ^'"' gay (vith flowers, stretched 
^tFT ^^'"- ^" *"" of the lake whose grey waters 
^™ed an illimitable background, reaching to the hori- 
zon. Spacous flights of stone steps, leading down to 

gondolas which sleepily sauntered down the canals 
that pass under the monumental bridges to the right and 
left. The long arcades of the palaces devoted to Machinery 
and Agriculture on one side, and to the Liberal Arts and 



From the Old World to the New. 

Electricity <»: the other, sheltered the passer-by from the 
fUic ot tne sun. A great fountain made nppling coohiess 
in the «ir rmmd the brotue galley of Columbia, while an 
antfoe and cotofal statue of the RepubUc, w-ith both 
|.«iM<« laiaed m high, towered aloft on a pedestal at the 
other end of the great basin. Bejocd the Republican 
Ciiliim was 3 court enclosed by a peristyle, or double 
open coktauade, like that of St. Peter's, only that Chicago 
adheres to the uoii-ersal rectangle, while Rome prefers the 
more graceful curve. Tlie majestic towers, the gracelul 
domes, tbe colonnaded pavilions, the statue-crowited 
colmnas. and the groups of emblematic sculpture, all 
execoleJ as it weie in mellowed it'ory, with the background 
of tbe akf and tbe lalce, combined to make a scene of 

tical lesson to American architects on the value of nrirt 
subordination to the orthodox conventionalitirs of th 
schools. American architects have too often the immeM^ 
audacity of ignorance and are so apt to design buildinm 
ail out of their own heads. It was thought a good th^ 
once in a \v3y, to show these bold experimentalists th^ 
beautiful effects can be obtained by adhering to the dui»Iv 
classic models." H^ueiy 

■' If you want originality, ' said Compton, " you will find 
plenty of it at the other end of the Fair. Go to tbe various 
buildings put up by the States beyond the Art Palace ■ 
or, better still, go and study the barbaric monslrosiues of 
the South American Republics, and you will come back 
grateful that in thj main buildings there was some higher 


beauty and harmony ivhich had never before met the 
eye of the Western World. 

■ j''.'j-^ symphony in colour, in architectural rei-elation " 
Mid Adirim, who had been reading the IVorlJ-s Fa'r 
Illust'oUd^W the »vay down In the train. 

«.li-^"'^>M*''f'"j'""r*''' H«<^"iK' '-the apotheoiis of 
ttucco. No doubt It 13 a revelation to those who have 

fif- m'^"/"'^I!'"8 '*"*'■ '" •''^ ^''^P^ °f architecture tha,i 
the bloated pick. :>g-ca3es and overgrown monstrosities of 
t-hicago. But an imitation can hardly be a revelation " 
'■th^iT^i-^"""' '"""^ ^'- H«^d»ig," said Compton, 
l^rto'the'Xle"::..!'"'^ ^° ^'''"^°' ^"<^ ^" '^'i"' 

t J ^''^' '^'^"^ " Tl ""^ ^^'^ "<^l"tects yesterday," said 
the professor, 'and he told me the reason why tliev 
idhered so cloicly to classic model* was to gi ve a pn,c^ 

canon of art in the mind of the architect than a whimiical 
straining after originality." 

"Come, now," said Adiram, "let us look at ths biggest 
building in the show— the building of Manufactures and 
Liberal Arts." Suiting the action to the word, he led the 
way past the buildings of Machines and of Electricity, 
jnd came to. the south front of the Manufactures and 
Liberal Arts Building. Entering, they were under the 
largest roofed-in section of space to be found on this 
planet, .\difam was lost in wonder and amazement, and 
kept OT reeling off endless figures which to most of those 
wiio heard him conveyed no conception as to the teal 
dimensions of the place. 

At last Dr. Hedw ig interposed, " Really, my good frisnd, 
you arc wasting your figures. Wc arc quite witling to 
admit that they have used 17.000,003 feet of timber, and 

The White City of Palaces. 


12,000.000 pounds of steel in putting up t!:is buiWing, bu! 
we are no wiser at the end of it. Let us have a look 
round. Your millions confuse us." 

The hall inside was well worth examination. The 
Machinery Hall of the Paris Exhibition four years ago was 
the biggest thing of its kind in its day, and was much ad- 
mired on account of its size. But when it comes to a 
questijn of bigness, no American wi 1 permit himself to 
b; I eaten. Ttie v jailors were told until they \i-eic sitk of 
it th-)t they could pile the pyramid if Che ps inside the 
building without interfeting with the gaUerie*, that it was 
tvvice as large £S the Cathedral ol St. Peters, that it was 
four timts as large as the Coliseum, which seated 
&,ooo persons. Another curious method cf impressing 
its dimensions upon the mind is to say that eleven .)/.j/>j- 
l cs could be moored side by side ard leave room to 
spare. The ground covered by this building is about 30^ 
acres, and to secure the wood for tliis huge building 1,100 
acres of Michigan had to be denuded of its piiic trees. 

" You are staying at the Auditorium, are you not ? '' 
said Adiram. 

rated, iS.oDo of which are used for electrical purposes. 
The boilers are fed with oil. 

After seeing the Power House, the party took the Elec- 
tric Elevated Railway which runs through the grounds for 
about five miles. They passed in rapid succession the 
Great Transportation Building, the rear of the Horticultural 
and Woman's Buildings, then, rounding the extreme 
northern limit of the park, they cime back and descended 
on the Goveroment Piazza between the National Buildings 
and the Naval Exhibit. Lunch-time had arrived, and they 
made their way to the Clam Bake, They were fortunate 
enough to obtain seats before the crowds began to come in. 

"The restaurant capacity of the Exhibition is," said Dr. 
Hedvvig, " only 30,000 an hour, and as there is a minimum 
attendance of ioo,coo a day, it takes over three hours for 
them all to dine if they dine comfortably in an hour, but 
Chicagoans dine muck more rapidly." 

'^Weil, what do you think of the Exhibition?" said 
Adiram to Compton. 

" I am beginning," said he, "to get the Exhibition head- 
ache. The show is beautiful, and gigantic, but although 

MANUFACjLi;Kri .\> D lid;ral arts. 

" Yes," said the doctor, " and a fine building it Is.'' 

" Sir, you could put twenty .^udilotjnmsupon this floor." 

After a time the doctor and his friends would not admit 

that anything was big, because whalcvt r the object might 

be whose size they admired, they were always told how 

much larger this building was than the edifice of whose 

dimensions they had spoken with admiration. The biiiiding 

is lit with I0.030 electric lights, and when the building was 

dedicated last October it was seated for tZy.aoo persons. 

" There arc eleven acres of skylight," Adiram. 

" Large as the building is, we could have hi led a much 

larger building if we had had room, Y'ou might spend a 

lifetime here studying the various products of the manu- 

factuiing ingenuity of mankind." 

"As we have not a tifelimc to spare." said Dr. Hedwig, 
"we had better not trouble about the e.thibits, but lake a 
rapid suri'cy of the grounds. First of all, let us retrace 
our steps, and go to the place where the power is 

Passing through the Machinery Hall, they came to the 
Poiver House, where is established the largest engine in 
the world. Here 24,000 horse-power was being gene- 

colossat it is not monstrous. The parh is laid out to great 

advantage. If you leave out the half dozen large buildings 
on either side of you, you still have sufBcient diversity to 
satisfy the most exacting critic. A more beautiful Exhi- 
bition 1 have never seen, and it nuitc up to the 
descriptions \\ ith which we are all familiar." i- 

" An Exhibition like this always oppresses me, and yet 
it is an enormous stimulus to the imagination," saiJ Dr. 
Wynne, " Like some magician's wand, it calls into visible 
and palpable exist .-nee before our eyes, oblivious of ob 
stacks of lime and space, the immense panoiama of the 
labours of man," 

After lunch they walked down to the Naval Exhibit. 

"This," said Compton, "interests me more than most 
things in the Exhibitiun, for the development of the self- 
consciousness of the race is measured by the interest it 
tdkcs in its Navy. 1 am glad to see that this exhibit ia 
one of the most popular in the show." 

The Naval Exhibit consists of the complete reproduction 
of an American line-of-batlle ship, and the cdd thing 
about it is that it is madecf cement aud bricks. Its larger 
guns are also quakers. They are, however, sufficiently 


From the Old World to the New. 

lif- rrki» to deceive any but those who have to fire thens. 
A^In'rrlrJtre ..aon'er of its «"Btruct.o„ thyh.p .^ 
with in the interior and extenor. an exact farsiimie of a 
Z-cf-lr. She has a «P''« "«";bot the space tha 
would be occupied by the engines in the real ship is dc 

voted to Naval' exhibits. While not possessing the a trac- 
Css of the IV/^rv at the Naval Exhib.t.oa held at 
CbXt it is still more instructive as enabUng the con- 
tinuous swarm of visitors who stand m«e an oppor- 
Umity of seeing the conditions under which modem naval 

"S'toT'-Naval Exhibit is the British Pavilion, 
Victoria House, the headquarters of the British Comnns- 
sion. It stands nearest to the lake of all the bmldings 
in the sho»v. It is an excellent example of an old l^nglisli 
house adapted to modeni requirements. 

The party then separated, each to see that which most 
Interested him in the show, and promised to compare notes 
when they returned to the Casino Restaurant for dinner. 

Compton spent the afternoon in irisiting the *'■■■''' 



ings put up by the Stales for the convenience of their 
citizens, and occasionally for the display of the special 
products of the State. Here, indeed, "free scope had 
been allowed to the fancy of the architect. Every 
kind of building is represented in these palatial club- 
houses, and some of them, like California, are minia- 
ture exhibitions. For the most part, however, they are 
no more than pavilioo% with conveniences for reading, 
resting, and corresponoince. The Uhnois exhibit is the 
largest, as befits the State in which the Exhibition is being 
held. After Illinois comes California, whose building is 
in some respects even more interesting. It is the repro- 
duction of the old Church of San Diego, with its towers - 
an interesting reminder of the time when Spain had 
something to say in North America. The Californian 
buildiiig has a garden on the roof, and is cooled with 
fountains. Its exhibition is rich in fruit, which is the 
speciality and gbiy of the Pacific Slope. Another curious 
exhibit 15 that of Florida. It is a reproduction in minia- 
inre of Fort Marian in St, Augustine. It is the oldest 
Structure in North America, as it was juilt in 1620, and is 
the only media:val fort left in the countrj-. For 100 years 
"* '*» 8U1S and garrison of 1,000 men defied every attack 
Although the Spanwrds have long left this bastion. Fort 

Marian desen-es the title of La Pucelle, for no bcsieei 
force was ever able to storm its walls. Another intere J' ^ 
historical building is that of Massachusetts, which w 
reproduction of John Hancocks residence on Beacon Hil? 
Boston. Still more interesting is the reproduction of In. 
dependence 1 lall, which is the exhibition of the State nf 
Pennsylvania. It is the exact reproduction of the old hall 
and the identical Independence bell hangs in the tower' 
Another notable building, one of the largest in the pounds' 
is that .vhieh VV'ashington has erected in order to show Us 
limber resources. The first tier of logs upon which the 
building is raised arc 1 2 1 feet long and four feet in diameter 
Idaho has a ver>' pretty clidlet. New York has an Italian 
villa, with a large relief-map of New York on its basement 
New Hampshire has a Swiss cottage; while Nebraska 
indulges in classic architecture of the Corinthian order 

Compton wandered in and out among the state buildings 

in order to impress his mind with the conception of the f^t 

that the American Republic is a federation of independent 

slates. It is a fact which an Englishman is slow to leam. 

The very conception of states u 

separate national entities is 

foreign to his mind. 

After a time Compton, feeling 
tired, made his way to the Arts 
Bu Iding, which lies north of the 
lake, and the State Buildings. 
He rested and watched the end- 
less flow ot human beings who 
always find the art galleries of 
an exhibition the ifioit popular 
part of the great show. 

Dr. \\'ynne sauntered through 
tlie Fisheries, admiring (he 
enormous variety of fresh-water 
fish which disported themselves 
in aquaria containing 1 4^000 
gallons oi fresh water. Salt- 
water fish were less numerous 
and more familiar. They had 
40,000 gallons of water, which 
was brought from the Atlantic 
seaboard. To economise carriage 
Iht salt water was condensed 
to one-fifth its bulk ; 8,coo gal- 
lons of concentrated brine were 
brought by rail and t»ea tilled up to their original volutne 
with fresh water. From the Fisheries he walked down 
to the CiOvemment Exiiibits, where he was chiefly inte- 
rested in studying a raised map ot the United States in 
plaster. Being 400 feet square it enabled him to see the 
cur\'aturc of the earth, the height of the mountains, and all 
the leading topographical features of the count rj'. It is 
only by studying such a relief map that we can form any 
idea of the real appearance of a country. 

After a time Dr. Wynne got tired ei'cn of the Government 
Exhibits and crossed over to the wooded garden in the 
lagoon. Here he loitered in the shrubbery around the 
Japanese temple which has been reproduced as the gift of 
the Japanese Govemmentto the city of Chicago. Japan has 
taken great pride in the Exhibition, its appropriation being 
;£ 1 25,000, a larger sum than was voted by any other goi-eto- 
ment except those of France and Germany. Japan not 
only rears her temple in the World's Fair ; she sends 2,cw 
Japanese students to travel round and study for than- 
selves the actual results achieved by modem civiliMtion, not 
in the Show but in the daily life of the Republic. At the 
other extremity of the Wooded Island, the rose garden v$s 
laid out -with its 50,000 rose trees. But the whole idapd 
was one brilliant scene of floral beauty, Ten of its s\t- 




The White City of Palaces. 


teen acres arc [aid out in ^ou'er beds, ta rurnisli which Itie 
loveiiest treasures n( Floras garden have been despoiled. 
And there again the unique character of the World's Fair, 
the combinaiion of land and ivater, lias been made the 
most of. The waters of the lagoon are only one degree 
less beautiful than the shores. The island is simply 
encircled by water-lilies of every description. The air 
was heavy \\ith fragrance of roses and lilacs. The 
rhododendrons are just beginning to flame into colour. 
" This,'' said the doctor to himself, •' is surely the pan> 
dise of the World's Fair. It is the Isle of Calypso without 
the goddess," and he sighed as he thought of Rose. 

After crossing the bridge to the smaller island on which 
was exhibited a Hunter's Camp, the doctor went back the 
whole length of the Wooded Island to the north end of the 
lagoon to one of the most interesting exhibits of the Show. 
This is the Indian Encampment Here are located the 
representatives of the red men who, when Columbus set 
sail from Palos, roamed in undisputed ownership over the 
whole continent. It is but a remnant of the vanishing 
race that funiubes the Indian Exhibit The utmost pains 

have been taken to make the exhibit characteristic and 
complete. At the extreme north end of the lagoon you 
come npon the tents and houses of the Esquimaux and 
Canadian Indians, among the stunted pines and firs of 
the snowy north. Next to them are the Indians of the 
temperate zone, while at the .southern end, among tropical 
palms, are the Indians of Central and Southern America. 
Here we have representatives of every existing tribe, 
living as much as possible as if in their original habitai. 
braves and squaws \\-ith their little papooses carrying ol 
the industries of the wigwam. Among the most interest . 
ing of the Indian groups is an encampment of Carib 
Indians, the sole representatives of the populous nation 
upon whom the Spaniards fell like a thunderbolt, desola- 
ting and destroying to the verge of extirpation. " It is 
like a Roman triumph," thought the doctor. '' Civiliza- 
tion, like the Ctesars, is not without her Tarpeian rock." 

It was a welcome relief from the sombre reminiscences 
called up by the spectacle of these scanty remnants of a 
race which once held a continent in fee to enter the 
spacious, bright edifice keown as the VVfiin:'ii'? Piiilding. 

woman's building. 


i \ 


From the Old World to the New. 

This stnirtiwe, designed by a wonian architect, IS the first London, 1891. For a moment he thought he u™. 
in any Wcrlds Sho»v that has been dedicated to the art, dreaming. He rubbed his eyes and read it again J^ 
the iiidiistrv, and the invention of woman. The Woman's • was no mistake, A mist swam before the nairp Ttf- 

the industry, and the invention o. 

Building, of which Mrs. Potter Palaer is the presiding 
genius, is the social headquarters of the fair sex. It is 
beautiful within and witliout,with gardens onthe roof, where, 
beneath spacious awnings, you can lounge and gossip and 
take light refreshment, and look down the ever-changing 
kaleidoscope of life in the Midway Pleasance and on 
Calypso's Isle. 

It was the proffered pledge of Isabella that enabled 
Colunbus to finance his tirst Atlantic journey, but four cen- 
turies had to pass before members of her sex were consid- 
ered to deserve a place for themselves in any International 
£ X h i b i t i n n . 
Women exhibit 
Creely In all the 
departments of 
the Fair, com ■ 
peting on equal 
terms with men, 
without fear or 
faTour. But this 
boUding is sa- 
I cn& lo woman's 

I work. It coi' 

Uins everything 
for the model 
kitchen — wo- 
man's peculiar 
doma in ; the 
model nursery 
— where she 
leigns without a 
rival near her 
throne; the 
model hospital 

— where both 

noTBes and phy- 

Stcians are 

WOMen; the 

model kindar- 

^aiten, while the 

interior is full of 

exhibits shown 

bf invitation of 

the best -vork- 

women, and es- 
pecially Ameri- 
can women, have 

done in our time. 

A portrait of the 

unfortunate Po- ™^ ubrariam : woman's building. 

!^w''.r\°^ ^'^ ''T '"'''•''" ''"^'''« ^^*'o^ story hat 
to«6hed the heart and lodged itself j„ the mem7rv of 

BuiiCing There is a library of books written h«- 
women Illustrated by vvomen.'^set up by wom^'^^aS 
b«md by women A vast array of invfniioL fSed by 
wM,en_ confound those libellerj «ho say that women 
«W mvent anything except excuses. The waUra,^ 
hung with painting, b7 female artists Staui^Trom Z 
*«Jt«. of women sculptors adorr the hall. 7ven-^here 
S^tli^-' ^"""k'' '^''"^'^ confronted by e^^erce 
«plX"rr;et ""''■ ''■•= '"<^-'^-° °- word.'^th^ 

caSUl"""! 'T '^^ "!'™^ '"'^ Slaneed over the 
^ '""'*'''' "^o^E, Tales from Fairyland.' 

swam before the naae 
librarian ^ ' 



he rose and went lo the 

" Could ycu let me look 
by Rose Thome ? " 

•■ Certainly,' said the lady librarian ; 
take it away with you." 


Tales from Fairyland,' 

but jou cannot 

'No," said the doctor, "of course not. 
down and look at it just here ? " 

But maylut 

Something in his manner impressed the girl and sh. 
ansvrercd kindly, " By all means, ' and then tripMd off il 
find the book. *^*^ °" 'o 

Dr. Wynne tried to 
not his Rose ; she had 
knew, in her life, except 
thousand Rose I l.orncs. 
conclusion that this was 

It Was 

persuade himself that 
never vviit:en anything, that he 
her diary. There 

Why should 
his Rose ? It 

m'ght be a 
he jump to the 
was i.i vain he 
argued, trj-ing to still the beating of his heart For him 
there was only 1 ne Rose Thorne in the wbole worll 
" Here is the loa'i, sir," said the librarian. 
It vvas ;i daintily- bound volume. He took it mechani- 
cally and S4t down. For a time he did not open the boot 
His hands trembled. He bit his lip. •' This is absurd " 
he muttered ; and, forcing himself, he opened the book. Vn 
a moment he knew that it was she, and none other 
With difficulty repressing a cry of exultant delight, he 
devoured page after page. Then he drew a long taeaih 
and closed the book. 

"Are you ill, iir?" said the librarian, hurrj-ing to bis 
side i\'ith a glass of iced water. 

He looked at her in some amazement. " No, madam • 

thank you kindly all the same." ' 

Then he opened the book and re-read the cliapter he 

Dad just read. It waa entitled, "The Little White 


It u as a simple fairy tale, simple enough to those who 
did not know— a mere fairy tale. But to him who knew it 
was as the unfolding of the innermost recesses of 
human heart. 

The story of '• The Little White Rosebud,' told how 
faiiy prince had loved a village maiden, and had given hef 
as a token of his devotion IJie firet little white rose hud 
that blMSOmed in his garden. But theVwitch's spell had 
cast ,1 glamour over the lovers, and the village maiden had 
feared and fled. Before she fled, she sent back to the 
fairy prince the little white rosebud to ke'.-p til! she re-, 
turned. And with the rosebud, she sent a t'ny Httle' 
thistle, tying them together in a lovers knot— indissoluble 
till death. The fairy prince, forlorn and deserted, sought 
e^-erywhere in vain for his 1< a: love. She was under the 
witch's spell, and all the letters which she wrote 
withered into dust as they were written. But one night 
as she stood at her window in the moonlight, weeping for 
her fairy prince, and wondering if he still carried near his 
heart the little white rose, a bright hope Hashed into her 

And she sang a lovely pathetic little song, telling the 
fairy prince far away that as she could not send him her 
letters through the silence, she would send her heart. 

And, lo ! it was not in vain. For the fairy prince, far in 
the \Vest, heard the mttsic of her song. He took out the 
white rose and kissed it, and the witch's spell was broken. 
The fairy prince ivedded the village maiden under the 
branches of an old oak tree, and they were as happy as 
the day was long ; and ever after in the fairy kingdom the 
royal arms were the rosebud and the thistiCi tied with a 
lock of.brown hair in a true lover's knot. 

It was but a simple tale, but as he read it again, eagerly 
drinking in every word as if it were the elJJtir of life. 

The White City of Palaces. 


Wynne felt tliat the story, whic!i was true fiislgiy, would 
yet be true prophecy. Was the witch's spell broken ? He had 
heard the music of her song. W here was the litde white 
rose ? He took out his pocltet-book and reverently 
extricated it from its wrappings. There it lay. the 
rosebud ti«d up with the thistle, with the lover's knot 
indissoluble till death. He kissed it reverently, but 
with exultant joy. Was the witch's spell broken now ? 
He looked up almost expeciingto see his Rose standing be- 
fore him. She was not there. He only met the curious 
gUnce of the librarian, and he hastily restored the precious 
keepsake to its abiding place. 

Then he settled himself down in the chair and read the 
"Tales from Fairjland" from cover to cover. The liijht 
began to fail. He took no heed. The crowd increased. 
He had no eyes for anything but the printed page, in every 
line of which he recognised the delicate, poetic fancy of 
his i. olised girl. The electric lights were turned on. 
He had finished the book, but as he read the last page he 
turned at once to the first. And then he noticed what he 
had not seen before, that the book was dedicated, " To 

Walter ." He closed the volume abrujitly, handed 

it to the librarian, and hurriedly left tlie building. 

The rest of the company had long before sat down to 
dinner in the crowdad restaurant at the Ca«ino. Mrs. 
Irwin had iound them, and the professor and Irene. 

" I have been at the Dog Show," said Dr. Hedwig, 
" the greatest canine parUament that ever assembled since 
the first dog bayed at the moon. It is below the live- 
stook sheds, behind the Machinery Hall. 1 should think 
you could hear them here but for the clatter of the kdives. 
I was particularly delighted with one dog— a huge St. 
fiernard from Fennsyl , ania. He stands ttiree feet high, 
weighs 247 pounds, or, as you English would say, nearly 
eighteen stune. He is the dog to hunt your masto- 
dons. " 

"That dog," said Adiram, "cost 3 750 dots. He id the 
biggest dog in creation. He is quite in his place in the 
W orld's Fair." 

" .^nd where have you been, Mr. Adiram ? " said 

" 1 have been in the Transportation Building for the 
mast part," said Adiram, "where I was chiefly impcessed 
by the marvellous superiority of the American locomotive 
over those of other countries. There are eight acres of 
railway exhibits. You see the whole history of the loco- 
motive from the old grasshopper to tlie latest leviathan. It 
is an exhibit worthy an industry in which sixty thousand 
million dollars ate invested. " 

" Wben I was in the Transportation Building," said Dr. 
I [edwig, " I Nvas much more interested in the electric 
cars than in the locomotives. Steam— pah !— it is a thing 
of yetiterday. At the next Exposition the gigantic locomo- 


"WTiere can the doctor have gone?" said Mrs. Irwin, 
*' I wanted particularly to see him " 

" Hell turn up, ' s.iid Compton, " never fe,nr. But mean- 
time, we must either dine, or give up our places to those 
who will. He may turn up before long." 

" And where hat,^ you been ? " said Compton to the 

" Grubbing in old tombs,'' said Mrs. Irsvin, with a laugh. 
" Poor Miss Vernon '. I came upon them both in the Ethno- 
graphical section, in the midst of the Ohio skeletons. " 

*• Why poor Mise Vernon ! " said Irene, bridling, " It is 
a great deal more interesting learning everything about 
these dead men from the pro*" .jsor than merely lounging 
round among a hot and vulgar crowd, whose chief aaxiety 
is to know how many dollar* everything is worth." 

" The exhibit of prehistoric Americans,' said the pro. 
' feasor, " is one of the most complete and valuable in the 
World's Fair, The collection embraces all varieties of 
aborigines, from the Aleuts of Alaska to the stone ruins 
of Yucatan. The models are most wonderful. It is a re- 
surrection of a vanished world. We have been bark 
among the mastodon, and have been the whole afternoon 
face to face with the races which perished long before the 
wS:te man set his foot on the continent." 

' Do you think your psychoiaetric gift,' said Compton 
tu Mrs, Irwin, ' would enable you to restore the language 
of the mound-builders of Ohio ? " 

"1 fear not, ' said she, " I am clairvoyant, and am not 
elairaudient. But I should like to see the mastodon. ' 

tive engines which Mr. Adiram saw will be shown as 
historical curiosHtres, beside the professor's mastodons. 
Electricity is the mcitor of the future." 

" The electrical exhibits," said Mrs. Irwin, "are far the 
most interesting to me. Have you seen the electrical 
model house ? That is a sight that alone is well worth 
coming to Chicago to sec. Why, it is like the Kodak I You 
press the button, and we do the rest." 

" Really," said Irene, " that is the kind of house I 
should like to live in. Where is it ? '' 

" In the Electrical Building," said Mrs, Irwin. " Every- 
thing is almost ideally complete. You touch an electric- 
bell - the door flies open. You enter the parlour to wait 
for the hostess. You touch another button, and the loud- 
speaking phonograph oh the table repeats a selection from 
'Faust.' The hostess comes down to dinner. She touches 
z button, and the dishes descend on dumb electric waiters 
from the kitchen in the atti;:. When they are placed on 
the table, they are kept hot by wires laid on under the 
table from electric warming furnaces. After diimer, the 
dishes mount upstairs by the electric lift, in five minutes 
they are washed by the electric automatic dish washer, 
and dried by an electric dish-dntr. On wasWng day, the 
dirty clothe j and a piece of soap are thrown into a tub, 
electricity heats the water, nibs and scrubs and cleans the 
clothes. After being rii>sed and blued, they pass into an 
electric wringer, and are dried in an electric oven, and 
then are ironed by electric ironing machines. The sewing 
machine is run by an electric motor, another cunning tittle 


From the Old World to the New. 



electric machine sweeps the carpet, and electric thermo- 
stats ktep the temperature of the house perfectly equable. 
It IS a J. H-el of a hodsc." 

" Nov ," said Compton, rising, " we must be goiiiR The 
doctor n.uat have dined elsewhere. We had better oH a 
«ood place, from which we can see the illumination of the 

The tlliimination had already begun. TJ.e huce 
Shuckert light, ,vitl, 25,000 candle-pow-er, was turiHnR 
great streams of brilliant light upon the harbour and thf 
Uke shore. Other great s.^arch lights of almost fabulous 
power M'cre wandeniig around the great white nalaccB 
w.thm when the light passed, could be seen t^e ra™ 
of innumerable lamps. ^ 

J'^''*".'"^ '°'°°° '"'= "«'''*■■' ^'d Adiram, m awed 
^s^r. "and ,00,000 incandescent lamps uithin Th^s 

'Oh, how beaut;ful!" exclaimed Irene, as the crcat 
Ss'fd ron'V''^^^" '^P'^y ^"^ "- rainboJcolo^^',1 
Z!* .L w^ '*'^„^P""P"« '*■'"=' »''»' ^'"^d aloft far 
abow the lofty walls of the surrounding palaces 

IheSer.'*"' "'" '"""' "^'^'^^ "^^^ '--i>^ -^er 
The whole basin was gemmed by coloured lamps burn- 
ing like glow-wrirms under the water. Gondolas' S 
feslooned with Cluaese lanterns, flitted to a^id fro andThe 

^biiS't^gil"'-"'^'"''^' """^ ^'^-='^'-' fi-worksare 
,„^ ^"•^'^man seated himself at what looked like a niann 
d™f of'h P'tr '"^'S"^'>-' " PJ'^technic S.sp Lr™ 
Ix^J^l^- '*,'"' ^'J^^' "^'"'^d f°^'h before The 
cjes of admirmg thousands. Set piece suceeert/d il? 

name figures representing all the great Po^vers defiled 
before the fira btatuc of Chicago, laying down their 
tropbies at her feet. 
"The New World has Ijeaten the Old," said Adiram 
There has been nothing like that before ; no, not even io 
tbe Arabian Nights." 

Chapter X\*n.— RouNn the Fair with tite CmtOREK, 
The moment 0r. Wynne reached the Auditorium he 
despatched a cablegram to London, to the publishers of 
the "Tales from J airj-land," prepaying a reply to the 
question as to the address of Rose Thorne. Then, without 
waiting to hear of the others whom he bad left at the 
Exhibition, he retired to his room. Early next morning be 
was downstairs inquiring for a telegram. 
Oti receiving it, he tore it open and read :— 

" Left for \^'ortds Fair in May." ■ 

Then she was here ! The secret instinct which drove him 
across the sea was not at fault. But where ? How could 
he find iier in this whirling maelstrom of humanity ? 

He went back to his room and considered the situation 
bhe liad gone to the World's Fair. He would then hve 
at the Worlds Fair morning, noon, and night She would 
probably visit the Woman's Building. He would leave his 
address with the librarian. He would see if they knew 
anjthing of her at the British Commission. How he vvished 
there existed a centre where every British visitor could 
register his name and address. It seemed so hopeless 
hunting without a clue. 

He had got to the end of his resources, and he was 
rather relieved when there was a knock at his door, and 
little Pearl came running into his arms. " Mamma says 
Its bekfast time," said the little lady. The doctor followed 
the child to Mrs. Wills's room. 

Round the Fair with the Children. 


" Doctor, doctor," said the boys, " you promised to lake 
us to the Ex hi bit ion to-day.'' 

" 1 suppose we may get breakfast first ?" said he, smiling. 
" Had you a gcod night, Mrs. Wills ? " 

" Thanks, pretty fair,'' she said. " But to-morrow we 
must start for San Francisco. Do you think you could find 
out the best way of making our «ay thither ? " 

" 1 am so sorry to lose you,'' raid he. " I shall be quite 
forlorn without the boys, and as for little Pearl — — " 

"Pearl will ky," said the child, " and Kitty will ky. We 
don't want to go aivay in the rasty puff-puff. Pearl wants 
to stop here. Dollies all want to stop here.'' 

"Come, come," said the doctor, hoisting his httle pet on 
to her accustomed scat on his shoulder, "we must come 
down to breakfcst,'' 

When breakfast was over they agreed to take the cable- 
car down to the South Park entrance in Fifty-seventh 
Street, and to spend lire wliole day in the Fair, returning 
late after the fireworks to the hotel. 

The boys were in high glee. Mrs. Wih ? was not in such 
high spirits. She hated Exhibitions sht said. For her 
own part she would not have lisited the '"v'orld's Fair, but 
for the children's sake she would go. 

■'lam sure you will enjoy it," said the doctor. "We 
will take it easy, and I will not take you to see anything 
that will not interest and amuse you," 

When they got into the table- car Pearl was uneasy. 
" Where are the nice gee-gees ■' ' she kept asking. Nor 
:ould she for &ome time be made to tinderstand that tlie 

car was dra\vn by an underground cable whicli made it 
independent of ho.'ses. On the way down the children 
were wild with excitement, wondeitng what the Fair would 
contain. The Red Indians and tlie Esquimaux, with their 
real huts and wigwams, fascinated Tom. Fred wanted to 
sec the performing animals, and the fireworks. As for 
Pearl, she thought of the dollies and the (Jowers and the V 
sweeties, which the doctor assured her abounded in the 

" Melican sweeties," said Pearl, for the child had already 
learned that the making of confectionery is one of those 
arts, like the fitting up of river steamers and vestibule 
cars, in which the Americans stand first of the human 

It was a pleasant morning whe, i they paid their half- 
dollar at the gates and were fret of the World's Fair. 
"Are there many extra charges y" said Mrs. Wills. 

"No, not as Exhibitions go," said the doctor. "There 
are, however, many side shows where you have to pay. 
If, for instance, you want to go to the theatre, t.ike a ride 
in the gondolas, go up in a balloon, or see any of the 
special peiformances in the Midway Pleasance, you pay 
extra. But all the regular exhibits are free." 

"What are these funny men y" said Pearl, as they 
approached the bridge across the north pond, pointing to 
the Esquimaux village which occupies the extreme northern 
comer of ) ackson Park. 

" Would you like to see them. Pearl ? " said the doctor. 

But Pearl did not want to go. " Nast'\ uyly 'ittle men," 




From the Old World to the New. 


«hc said So they crossed the north-west por.d and fourd 
themaelves among the State Buildings. 

"I want you just to look at the fruit in the Californian 
Building," said the doctor, as Ihey made their ^vay into the 
reproduction of the old monastery of San Diego They 
were in the paradise of fniit. Pearl tvanted some to eat, 
but was consoled by some peanuts, the vendor of which 
bad paid ^'24,000 for the monopoly of sale within the 
Fair, so that he would have to make a net profit of nearly 
j^20o per day before clearing the price of ris conressiuoi, 
" W hat is that huge, round thing under the glass doir.e? " 
said Tom. 

" Oh, that," said the doctor. " is a section of one of the 
trees they grow in California. It is 25 ft. af ro!s and 30 ft. 
high. You see it is hollowf d out, there is an upstairs room 
and a downslairs, each 14 ft. high. You could cut a tunnel 
through that tree ar.d drive two omnibuses abreast through. 
For at the ground it was 33 ft. in tfiameter, or more thsn 
100 ft. round about. But now, as it Is comparatively early, 
let us go into the Art Palace before the crowd makes it 
hot and uncomfortable." 

There is an unfailing attraction about pictures, especially 
pictures with stories in ihcm. And hcrw were the pick of 
the best pictures in the whole world. They wandered 
slowly round, stopping here and there before the pictures 
that pleased them best and resting whenever Mrs. Wills 
felt weary opposite her favourite pictures. Pearl was in 
high glee. As they went on from gallery to gallery, the 
morning imperceptibly slipped away. 

" Dear me," said the doctor, <* if it is not twelve o'clock ! 
Let us takf the electric launch that starts from the steps, and 
run down the oraamer.tal water to the Casino at the pier." 
They were soon on board the launch ; the pretty awnirg 
overhead screened them from the sun, while the rapid 
motion of the launch made them feel as if a pleasar.t 
zephyr were fanning their cheeks. 

"Wnat are those big buildings on either side ? " said 

"One is the Illinois State Building, the other is the 
Brazilian Palace. But see, wc arc now coming into the 

'^''^y di\-ed under the ornamental bridge that connects 
the wooded island with the Fislertes, passed tl:e Japanese 
temple, and skirted Caiypso's Isle so closely that they 
almost ran among the water-lilies, and could see thercses, 
and smell the lilacs that were blossoming on the island. 

'• How brantiful,'' saia M.-^. Wills. " and how pleasant. 

There is no £team, no fear of an explosion, no disagree- 
able smell of engine oil ; it is the id-al of luxurioui 

Gaily decorated gondolas passed them rn their way, 
and occasionally a great omnibus launch nith thirty or 
forty on board svvept by. 

" Lock, look," said Fred, " look, doctor, w oat n beautiful 
building we are coining to ! ' 

"It's the Electricity Palace," said the doctor. 'Yoo 
must see that to night when it is all ablate with a myriad 

" What is it all made of?' said Wn. Wills ; " it looks like 
marble with an old ivory tinge.' 

"The buildings are constructed of wood and iron and 
plass, but v\ hat you see, the outside mssk, as it were, of 
the real building, is made of staff— the verilable staff of 
life, so far as the architecture of this Show is concerned. 
It is a mixture of cement, plaster, and hemp-fibre, which 
can be moulded like plaster, carved and worked like wood, 
and which, if it is but paictcd and cared for. will last f<K 

"Oh, I10W beautiful, " said the boys, as the launch, after 
threading the North Canal carae out into the Grand BasiiL , 
The imposing Columbiar fountain was in full play, its* 
w-aters gleaming like crystal in the sun's rays, and filltog 
ID snowy sprsy over the figures of the rowers of the barque 
of Progress. The great gilded dome of the Administration 
Building gimved in the mid-day sun like a flame of Grci 
On either side were flower beds and statuary leading up 
to the great palaces which rose to the right and left. Im- 
mediately in front was the Statue of the Republic, and 
behind the many pillared Peristyle, through which they 
caught glimpses of the infinite expanse of the lake. A few 
minutes more and they were landed, and made their way 
to the doctor's favourite restaurant, which stands at the 
shore end of the great pier. 

Tliey were fortunate enough to secure a seat near the 
window which commanded a view of the harbour, bright 
with a thousand sails, and the great lake beyond, stretch- 
ing far away, as illimitable as the ocean, to where it met 
the horizon of the cloudless sky. 

'■ Ships,' said Pearl, ''but what 'ittJe ships, i don't see 
our nice big ship anj-where." She ivas soon consoled, 
howe\-er, by a delightful lunch of fruit and sweets, and a 
glass of iced milk. 

" What is that funny building that we see there tust 
across the water ? ' said Fred. 

Round the Fair with the Children. 


" That," said the drx^lor, " is a famous place which you 
must take a good look at b«(ore you ga. More than 400 
years ago there wai a disappointed, and almost heartbroken 
man who was wandering about the Old World like a tramp. 
One day, when he was just ready to parish, he came to 
the door of that place which you see there, and asked 
them to take him in and give him shelter. Now the abbot 
of that convent — for it is a convent— was a wise, good, and 
kind man. He took the poor fellow in and gave bim food 
and lodged him, and listened to all that he had to say, and 
then helped him to carry out the idea upon which he had 
set his heait. Do you know who that poor tramp was? " 

" No," said Fred. " Who was he ? '' 

"That tramp was Christopher Columbus, and it was in 
that Convent of La Robina where he first found the friends 
without whose aid he would never have got Queen 
Isabella's support, and would never liave discovered 

" Do you see that curious little ship that is lying beside 
the convent ? '' said the doctor. " That is the model jof the 
Sn'a Maria, the ship in which Columbus crossed the 
Atlantic. Ifn't it a queerly-shaped ship, with its liigh poop 
and itrange build ?" 

" I suppose," said Mrs. Wills, " that such a ship could 
not cross the Atlantic now ?'' 

" Oh, dear me," said the doctor, " that very ship at which 
we arc looking has crossed the Atlantic. Although the rig 
and build of the ship seems strange to us, it is nevertheless 
perfectly seaworthy. As a matter of fact, that little model 
was built in Spain last year and crossed the A t'antic with- 
out danger or difficulty. Everything is done to make it 
like the old ship, even the crew, who are in old Spanish 
costume. Fortunately those who are on board are not the 
ofTscouring of the Spanish gaols with which Columbus had 
to be content 400 years ago," 

" How little a ship can you cross the Atlantic in ? " said 

" If we have time, I will show you Capt.iiu Andre\('s 
ocean cockle-shells, which are on show in the Marine 
Department. They are hltle sail-boats ; one, the Dark 
Secret, with a twelve-foot keel; the other the NmiUlus, 

which is only nineteen feet long, but in these tiny craft 
he has ctossed the Atlartic ajl alone, at least three 

" How did he get any sleep, dcctor ? ' aiked Krs. Wills. 

" He took it in snatches of a few minutes at a time. 
When the weather was fine, he adjusted his sails and lay 
down by the helm. When it was stormy he did without. 
But there arc some sailors and ships which seem to have 
a charmed life. Do you see that old wha ing bark that is 
lying near the Smti That is the famous old 
Pr-'gress from New Beiford. She is !i,^ty years old ; she 
has Ijeen seventeen times round Cape Horn, and has 
always been successful. Forty times she has been in the 
Arctic Ocean and aUays came back safe. Twenty-two 
^ea^s ago all the whaling fleet was destroyed but that 
small 5hi[}, which brought back seven captains and 300 
sailors whose vessels had perlsheJ. ' 

After lunch they went down to the Krupp Exhibit, in 
Order to see the biggest gun in the whole world. It was 
jnade by j^rupp and weighs \Z2 tons 

" Ypu can take the boys if you like, doctor," said Mrs. 
Will', " but I do not care for such things, neither does 

" No," said Pearl, " I don't like shcoter-guns, they make 
a noise like froggy signals, it frightens Pearl. I will stay 
with mamira,' 

" All right," said the doctor, and he marched off with the 
two boys, one in each hand, to see the exhibit from Elssen. 
Afterwards they vient a little further along the shore to 
see the Forestry Exhibit, There are over j(0o trees which 
are native to America, and specimens of these are to be 
found n this exhibit. Each State in the Union contri- 
butes three typical trees to the eonstrudion of this 
building. Another fact which the doctor pointed out was 
that no iron whateier is used. Wooden pins are used 
instead of bolts and nails. 

They did net stay very long in the Forestry Exhibit, 
hilt after a parsing glance at the Dairy Hall they came 
back to the station of the Elevated Electrical Railway, 
where Mrs. Wills and Pearl were waiting for them, 
There was a small crowd, and they had to wait their turn 




From the Old World to the New. 


Ifi, -ii^^J^^f iS.?^^t^ 



for some time. At last they look their seats, and were niti- 
rting along behind the great palaces and the Administration 
Buiklings ; then they skirted the extreme north edge of 
the park and past the Midway I'ieasancc. where the doc- 
tor said they would get out on the return journoy. After 
making a circuit of the north end of the park with its 
State buildings, they were uhimately deposited close to the 
ironclad, which Pearl and Mrs. Wills both refused to 
inspect. The doctor and the boys therefore did not leave 
the cars, and taking the return journey went back to the 
Midway Pleasance, where they alighted. 

'* This is the place for amusement," said the doctor. 
" 1 think the boys will like it better than going through 
those endless buildings and wandering through the 
exhibits in the Mining, Manufactures, and Liberal Arts 
Buildings," ' 
"What are we going to see ? " said Tom. 
" Now," said the doctor, " we will just run up the Tower 
of Babel which stands at the entrance. It is a tower 400 
feet high, with a diameter of too feet at the bottom. The 
peculiarity of this tower," he said, "is that they take you 
up in an electric railway. You can also ascend by an 
elwator or by walking." 

Before he had finished his explanation the car was in 
motion, and as they went spirally round the tower they 
obtained beautiful views of the E-xhibition, the Midway 
Pleasance, and the city of Chicago as far as the eye 
could see. When they had reached the top they were 
hj^er than any other buildings in the Exhibition. 

" Yes," said the doctor, " it is a good view, but it is not 
half as high as the Eiffel Tower. In that respect the 
Americans have been beaten. It is the one thing in which 
they have nnt outdone everything that has been attempted 
in former Exhibitions." 

Haring gone up by the railway they descended by the 

"Now," said Dr. Wynne to Mrs. Wills, "do you feel 
tiled ? If so, you had better go into the Woman's Build- 
ing ; there is a Department of Comfort for tired children 
and for ladles who war.t to have a rest ¥■ u can put 
Pearl to sleep and lie down yourself. We will be back in 
an hour or two. ' 

Mrs. Wills, who was no great sightseer at the best, 
gratefully accepted the suggestion, although Pearl some- 
what demurred. She was, however, really very slef^ij, ^, 

in a (c\v minutes after going into the Comfort Departtnent, 
was sound asleep, 

"Now," said Dr. Wynne, "we had belter take a Wilk 
first right through the Pleasance, arid cc ming back \vc can 
look at the exhibits which we like best more in detail 
First V.C pass on our left Lady Aberdeen's Irish Village, 
with Blarney Castle. It is as like an Irish village as it 
could be minus the pigs running about the street, the roof- 
less, ruined, and desolated houses, and the omnipresent dirt, 
which woidd be needed to make it homelike. On the other 
side of the Pleasance, separated from tlic Irish Village by 
the tov'f f" rp 'vhich we have been, is the Bohemian Cdass 
■Works, where j'Ou can see the process of making the 
beautiful Bohemian GJess." 

They then crossed the great Illinois Central Railroad. 
Here there were more glass works. " There is a place," 
said the doctor, "at which we will not fail to call as we 
come back ? " 

" What is that ? ' asked Fred. 

" It is the wild beast show. They slu/^'J not be called 
wild beasts, because they are tame. It is Hagenbeck's 
wonderful collection of tame animals. We shall see them 
perform on our way back. Immediately opposiie the wild 
beast show yoti ha\-e Little Japan. The Japanese bazaar 
is the first of the foreign settlements which make the 
Pleasance like a section of Europe or Asia. A little 
further on, on both sides, you have the Dutcii Settlement. 
Then you come to the panorama of the Bernese Alps. 
They could not send the Alps, you see, .-as an exhibit, bo 
they sent a panor.ima as the next best thing." 

Opposite the panorama on the other side of the covered 
walk they came to the German Village, which is the largest 
exhibit in the Pleasance. Near it was the Turkish Village. 
Then they came to a group of buildings which reminded 
them of the Paris Exhibition of 1889. There were the 
Moroccan Palace, the street in Cairo, and the Algerian and 
Tunis exhibits. 

" But what is this huge thing right in front of us ?" said 

" Oh, that is the Ferris Wheel. We shall go up that 
when we come back, ' said the doctor. " On the left of 
that is another piace you will like to go and see— that is, 
the ice railway. A little further on is the sliding railway, 
which was on exhibition at Paris. Then we come to 
another panorama, at v/hich we shall look aa we retuni. 

Round the Fair with the Children, 


It is 3 panorama of an eruption in the Sandwich 
Islands. As you are not likely to see a volcano in erup- 
tion you had better see this. On the other side of the 
covered way you see the Austrian Village and the East 
Indian Village, and last of ?li there is the village from 
Dahomey, Then come the tnirsery gardens, with vvliich 
the Fleasance ends. Now, boys,' said Dr. Wynne, as he 
came to the end of the walk, " which of all the thingu wc 
have passed do you wish to see most V '' 

" The wild beasts," said Fred, 

•' Yes," Slid Tom, " I agree. Then vve want to go on 
tlie Ferris Wheel, and sec what the ice railway is like," 

'' Then,' said Fred, "1 want to ride on one of those 
Indian elephants which were wandering np and down for 

•' And," Tom chimed in, " I want to ride an Egyptian 
donkey in the Cairo street." 

" Well,'' said the doctor, "we shall have our work set 
before we get back. Let us begin at the beginning, and 
look at this East Indian Village, his something like whal 
there was at i'aris, it comes from the I>utch East Indies. 
The natives :ire living as they do in their own homes, and 
if wc had time to wait we should see them performing 
juggling feats and charming serpents. But we must hurry 
on. Close beside this village is a bouse from Pompeii, 
which vi-as buried by an eruption of Vesuvius, nearly 
two thousand years ago. Near it we have the Dahomeyaii 
Village, as a type of the savagery, which the French have 
been endeavouring to civihse ay means of Lebel rides. 
There are about fifty to sixty men and women of what 
was, till last year, the one independent negro kingdom, and 
the only state where women are regularly trained to ivar. 
Fortunately," said the doctor, "we are just in time to 
see them give one of their war dances," 

It was not a very edifying spectacle, altkough shorn of 
the horrors which are the usual accompaniment of 
Dahomeyan festivals. In great contrast to this is the 
Austrian Village which is the reproduction ot a street in 
old Vienna, called Der Grabea They walked througli 
this, looking at the quaint old houses on either hand, and 
then came back to the Chinese Village and snt for som.- 
time to see a Chinese play. A Chinese play is like a serial 
in a maj;azine. It begins some time or other, and seems 
to keep on for ever, and a very little of it will go a long 

" Let us go into the Chinese tea-house and have a cup 
of tea, made by the Chinese themselves," said the doctiir. 
" But before we cross the way, we mil look in at the 
panorama of th^; volcano of Kilavii." 

When they got inside the circular building, they found 
that they were supposed to be standing in the centre of 
the crater, and the fire was spoutini; out around them on 
all sides. But, sale on their platf-i"n, they \vere able to 
look out upon the scenery w!iich surrounds what is 
believed to be the biggest crater in existence. 

They went across the way and had a cup of tea, after 
which all three took their seats on the ice railway. This 
is like an ordinary toboggan, but the ice is real, and is 
kept frozen in the hottest by matiiinery. 

'' Now," said the doctor, after giving a passing glance at 
a model of St. Peter's, " for the Ferris Wheel." 

The Ferris Wheel is a gigantic concern. It is a wheel 
of 250 leet in diameter, nearly 800 feet in circumference, 
and is mounted upon towers 13; feet high. The doctor 
and the boys took their seat*in tiie cars, which were sus- 
pended from the perimeter, and waited until the rest were 
filled. Then tlie huge wheel, iveighing when fully 
freighted over 2000 tons, it is said, slowly revolved, 
carrymg them up 250 feet high, and then bringing them 
down again. The sensation was not unpleasant, the great 

cuh"e being sufficient to prevent any feeling of dizziness in 

After they had descended, they went straight into the 
Cairo street. Here below the minarei of Kaid Bey, from 
which at stated times the muezzin calls to prayer, the 
water-carrier clinked his glasses and cried his drink. They 
were ii the unchanging East. Mosque, bazaar, donkey 
boys, th* Musharabeeayah, lattice work, the alcoves, the 
street sellers are a condensed epitome of Oriental life, 
« ith its framework complete, conveyed as if by Solomon's 
carpet from the banks of the Nile to the heart of Chicago. 
There were scores of donkey boys, youths from eighteen 
to twenty, who exhibited their asses— which are whitey- 
crey for the most part, with a curious blue pattern 
Stencilled on the legs. Imagine this section of Cairo 
suddenly plumped down in the midst of the Exhibition , 
fill the shops with native merchants, plant turbaned street 
St Hers at each corner with sweetmeats, keep the donkey 




From the Old World to the New. 

boys running hitlier and thithtr, crowd tlie whole place 
with sightseers, and you have the Rue du Caire. 

The two boys were soon accommodated uith tuu 
Egyptian dopke>'s, and cnjuyeil the luxury of a brief ride. 
From Egypt to Turkey was a short tratisitioo. The Turkish 
Village, a leproductio:! of a square in Constantinople, lay 
on the other side of the covered walk. It had much the 
same chatacteiislics as the street in Cairo. They then 
visited the German Village. 

'• Here," said the doctor, " if ivc had time, which we hare 
cot, you could study various styles of houses from all 
parts of thi- Fatherland of to-day combined with a German 
town of mediscv, 1 times." 

More interesting to the boys than the German Vil- 
lage or the Dutch Settlement was Hagenbecks Wild 
Animal Show. They watched thi- performance with in- 
tense interest Mr Hagenbeck is a German who has 
brought over with him lOo animals, including lions, tigers, 
elephants and other animals, which form a happy fami'y. 
" It is a kind of fultilment of the prophecy that thc"lion and 

seen the authoress of that book • Tales rm„. t- • 
which I »vas reading yesterday ? " ™ ' attylan^' 

Alas ! no, the librarian bad not seen Rose TK„._ 
the catalogue. ^* ITiome save in 

" Well, said the doctor, " if she comes anH l 

to sec her. might 1 ask you to give her thi^fj^^.J^fi^'' 

"Certainly, said the librarian, whose svmZ.'t,- 
aroused by the open secret o/the interest vShiS'^". ""'''* 
showed in Rose Thorne. " But is she i , rw ""^ ^«^'M 

'■I hear so," said Dr. Wjnne, l„d Vo ^rinf Z " 
'h^'rS."" "°^-^'=«'°'"«"«« he returned to Z '^n?S 

They had finished theii tea, aid Pearl wa. 
begin again the round of the grounds ThZ H Jff ^*'" '" 
them to the White Star exhibit The children 1^' ^'*°^ 
the staircase of the MaJ^Mc with a cry of de^fah, , fi?** 
Wills was p!easar,tly%urprised a7 com nf upo' Th"' 
reminiscence of their journey across the Atlantic '^X .1 ' 
lingered in the model of the saloon of the T^u/rt l^^ 
Wills asked the doctor if he had ever seen M^' uZ 

the lamb shall lie down togetficr," said Dr. Wynne ■ ■' it is 
quite wonderful the things he has taught them to dol ThJy 
are as tame as cats. ^ 

"And a great deal more obedient," said Fred "for our 
cat will not do what it is told. Mr. Hagenbeck m. ikes h"s 

More'ttr, ''1^ ""^1°^ "'"^ '^es just as he wishes." 
Wms ^nd pII I '"'"" ^"^ P^''"^ ''^'"' *^^y f°""d Mrs. 

J^t ^tK^:;:^^tsr -^ ^^i " ^u- 

« murh >■ •N,^^*"^ =''?" "">'* ^ '=^«d "<■»" ''•"■i"g seen 
TfTk- ^•^.•""gloth. notwithstanding thdrcuooftM 

versaL^n ?h ^°°" ^ng^^K^d in an animated con- 

Mhi^ Hon°" »h<- comparative att-a tivcness of the various 

notHnl ? f ^"""^^^ *^" '"^"""g "'^t ''^ h^d heart: 
uei)t n^nl c" fi'"'^ ^ '''" '^^ Af^j^stic, Mr,. Wills 

was a real good soul. Her kindness to poor Rose— " 

„ ^°^' . ?^'d 'jie doctor quickly, " what Rose ? ' 

W •■ . -/x, '" '™„'"f^'-mediate cabin. Don't you remem- 

.hp'^v. ■ i. '"Y " >■"" ^^"^^ '«•>""« ™e back to Pearl 
the evening belore the fog." 

■'Good heavens ! " said the doctor. " can it be possible t 
1 ell me. Do you know Roses name "> " 

if lvl"i. T! 'i'"'^ ^^^'' ^'d Mrs. Wills, " I think 1 heard ! 
It once but 1 have forgotten it." 

fhini ru""'r.''^''V ^"'"^ '^'"" ; " 't "as Thistls or some- ' 
ri, ^^ "'^,*' "^^i*"^ "'"'en she wa« a little better we 
used to tease her and saj> she was a thorny, prickly Rose." ' 

Tl, f o*""" '^J™'^ ^"'^y '» *'!«"«■ Thistle-Rose 
m^tie-Kose Thome. He had no doubt it was she. It 
was too cruel Sfie had been on the Majeitic. He bad U 
e^er, been m her berth, and yet they had not met. fl 

.„»„ w f company walked on for a space, wondering H 
somewhat at the doctor's agitation, until they reached the 


Round the Fair with the Children. 


Horticultural Exhibition. The boys looked up at him from 
time to time with wondering eyes; Mrs. Wills did not 
like to speak ; Pear) atone was unconcerned, and made 
quaint observations upon all that she saw. 

When they reached the entrance of the Horticultural 
Building the doctor pulled himself together vdth an effort, 
and giving a hand to each of the boys he led them through 
the most magnificent collection of flowers that had ever 
been brought together under one roof. Every continent 
had been ransacked for the choicest beauties. 

The orchids exhibited are alone said to be wort!i 
;f 100,000. There were roses there from every country, 
and a wonderful collection of beautiful flowers from 
Australia, South America, and Europe, Each State ex- 
hibited its own fruit, and the oranges from the Southern 
States were something enormous. There were orange tree,-; 
in fulhhtoom and peach trees in full fruit. On coming 
out of the hall tliey notii-ed three large trees, much 
larger than those usually to be seen in Jackson Park. 
They were an elm, an ash, and a sugar maple. On in* 

of the enormcus collection of mide!s and exhibits of 
every conceivable method of locomotion. They only 
looked through the long corridors of vehicles varying from 
a leviathan locomotiire down to a tiny bicycle. They were 
most interested in the exhibits shovring the progress made 
in flying. 

" I had hop^d," said Dr. Wynne to Mrs, Wills. " that we 
should have been able to come here by air, but that triumph 
is to be reser\"ed, it would seem, for the next century," 

. " I should never take your aeroplane or flying machine. 
I prefer the solid ground," paiJ Mrs. Wills. 

From the Transport Building they walked through the 
Mines to the Electrical Building, wfiich was jvist being lit 
up. It was not to see the beauty of the effulgence of the 
electric light of every shape and design with which the 
interior of the Electrical Building was ablaze, that Dr. 
Wynne had brought Mrs. Wills and her children, who 
were now getting somewhat weary of tramping about the 
grounds. He could not let them leave the Exhibition, he 
said, until they had seen Mr. Edison's kinetograph 



quiry it was found that they were brought there by a 
nurserj'man, and were the first exhibits on the grotind. 
The elm was seventy-five feet high, two feet in diameter, 
and weighed ten tons. The tree was growing and was an 
interesting specimen of the way in which full grown 
forest trees can be transplanted without injury. 

From the Horticultural Exhibition the doctor led his 
little party to the Fisheries in order that they might notice 
the flowers of the sea which were dispU-iyed in the 
aquarium. The tanks seemed endless. The curator said 
they were 570 feet lonp. 

Pearl was much impressed with the extraordinary shape 
and colour of many of the fishes which swam close to the 
glas' as ;i on purpose to show off their pecuharities. The 
boys were most interested in the papier-machfi models 
exhibiting the method of catching seals. These models, 
which were extraordinarily life Uke, contained hundreds of 
sells, Aleuts, and walruses, all dramatically arranged. 

On leaving the Fisheries they took a gonoola and 
were rowed to the entiance of the Transportation Build- 
ing, which lies at the other end of the lagoon. They 
made no pretence of making an exhaustive examination 

" ^Mlat is a kinetograph ? 

" You will sec," said the doctor. " It is a combination 
of the phonograph and the photograph." 

An exhibition was being given wKen they entered the 
hall. There was a picture of a prissc-fight being thrown 
on the canvas by a magic lantern. The scene was con- 
tinually changing. The combatants were now up, now 
down, now giving a blow home on the face or chest, then 
sparring rou,-.d the ring. All the while the loud-speaking 
phonograph was reproducing the incessint sounds that 
were audible when the picture was being photographed. 

" 1 think it is a disgusting exhibition," said Mrs. Wills, 
" and it is a great pity that Edison could not have found 
a better subject for his invention than in bfinging the 
oaths and brutality of the prize-ring before the public in 
that fashion." 

Mrs, Wills was not alone in her opnion of the exhibit 
It was soon taken off, and a picture substituted of Patti 
singing. The lantern threw her picture upon the screec 
with such life-like realism that you could almost have said 
she was standing before you. Each movement of her 
figure was reproduced by means of iostaatatieous photo- 




From the Old World to the New. 


gra()hy. Tlie ptmnograph moved exactly in accordance 
with the procession of the pictures liirough the lantern, and 
thus enabled all those prese nt to hear the music and at 
the same time see the prima donna as it were in the very 
act of singing. 

" Now," said Mra. Wills, " I think we should be going 

" Xo," said the dwtor ; " this is a festival night, and 
there will be a great illumination upon the bkc." 

When they came out of the Electrical Hall, they found 
themselves in the midst of a fairy-like splendour. All tlie 
trees in the tark were decorated with Chinese lanterns. 
On the lake were anchored innumerable wooden frames, 
made in the shape of stars, crt-scents, eagles, and shields, 
which nere lit up with red, white, and blue lamps, that 
seemed to float on the surface of the water. Around these 
groups of lamps illuminated gondolas and electric launches 
gay with Chinese Innterns were ilittinc to and fro. But it 
\\-as on the lake shore that the chief glory of the fOte was 
ta be witnessed. Along the shore ivere twenty-four floats 
representing the procession of the centuries, which did 

duty at (he dedication of the show 
last October. 1 hey were all lit 
up with electric light, so that the 
out ine ol the emblematic groups 
could easily be made out. Be. 
hind t'jem were ten large flat 
boats, with set pieces of fireworks, 
which wtrc discharged in the 
course of the evening. A score ol 
small steamers decorated from 
a»'"^ >;• H stem to stern, covered «ith lamps 

flrA'j«i'' 'J and well supplied with liombs and 

^■'' ' ■ ''"'' rockets, wete kept plying in a soit 

of aquatic waltz along the whole 
of the lake front of the Jackson 
Park, As each of the steamers 
had bands on board there was 
plenty of music. Pearl was de- 
lighted, and clapped her hands 
from her position ot advantage on 
the doetcr's shoulders. Kven the bursting of the maioons 
did not fnt^hten her, for her eyes were so absorbed by 
the splendour and (.litter of the fireworks that her ears 
had not much chance of protest, Messrs. Brock, the 
pyrotechnists ^vhose displays at the Crystal Palace are 
familiar to Londoners, had the contract for the fireworks at 
the World's Fair, and it is unnecessary to say that they 
were worthy of their reputation. Long brforc the last set 
piece had been displayed, Ur, Wynne, Mrs. Wills, and the^ 
three children were making their way back to Chicago. 
The ovish back at night would have been tremendous,' 
Therf must have been at least 250,000 people in the 
Exhilition ground, and the scramble for even the early 
cars \<3S more exciting than pleasant. 

One of the exhibits* which most pleased the doctor and 
the bi>ys was the Children's Department, where they saw 
a reproduction in miniature of the Ducal Palace at 
Vcnics, and many other buildiui;s, all designed by a clever 
and crigtnal American girl, \vho hit upon t'nis plan o( 
teaching architecture, a la Rusk in, in the nursery. These 
.Stones of Venice were all built up of S(.'parate bricks 
exactly too times less than the oiiginal, but of the same 
colour and shape. It was like a course of Ruskin-made- 
easy to build up the Palace, and the word-book which 
accompanied the bricks, ^vas a aiiRicient introduction to 
one of the most fascinating of all sciences. In order to 
complete this object lesson in architecture, .Miss littahad 
lived in a houseboat on the waters of the Adriatic, for 
months at a time, acquiring materials at the same time 
for a dehghtful girls book, "How 1 Lived in Venice on a 
Shilling a Day." 

seal: a St;L1.0CK-WAGGON OF TO-DAY. 

CiiAPTEK XVllI.— From t[ie Slaughter House to 

THE Altar. 

Next day Mrs. Ir\vin went out to purchase such additions 
to her wardrobe as her marriage seemed to dictate. She 
went to the t^air, not the World's Fair, but the Bon Marchd 
of Chicago, a:-id soon lost herself ia the many-acred store. 

• it is proper to m»y that as none of Ihe rxhibiti »n= M yet '" tf" 
Fair, all the dcBcriptioriB in this and the precedins chiplf r, or wnii 
wai Bcfn there in Midsummer, are necessarily based upon Uic pn^ 
sent arranKementa of exiiibitors, which mav be varied before inen. At 
a rule, however, with herr and thrre an exception, it (o»y lately » 
taJten for granted that what i> described in this ChriBtmm Moty vnu 
actually bt found m the Worlds Fair, 1 am sorry to say thai one ol uie 
exceptions setms likely to be the fac»imile model ol Ann Hatbaway a 

From the Slaughter House to the Altar. 


" feig shops are all very well," she said aftenvards, " but 
a shop with 2,400 shopmen is rather more than 1 can stand." 
After lunch Compton and Mr. Adiram called upon her to 
take her to sec some more of the sights of Chicago. She 
would have preferred Mr. Adiram's room to his company, 
but seeing that he had attached himself to Compton as a 
cicerone she accompanied them with a sigh. 

'• Talk about gold mines,"' .said Adiram, as llicy walked 
along one of the less frequented strcL-t* of the business 


quarter, " what is a gold mine to a good corner lot in this 
section of Chicago. The original founder bought the site 
of llie city and 300 miles round about for the handsome 
sum oflfive shilhngs. ^ That was two hundred years ago. 
But vi'ithin the memory of men now living the whole 
ground rent ol Chicago could have been bought in open 
markeL foi d thousand doJlars. It would hardly have 
brought that in 181;, the day after the garrison of Fort 
Dearborn was massacred by the Redskins. But we dont 
need to go back so far as eighty years Corner lots that 
went for 1,500 dollars in 1845 are worth dollars 
to-day. The Union Block, sold for 2,000 dollars in 1S41, 
is now worth a million. The Custom House Block was 
bought in 1S33 for 500 dollars. It is valued to-day at 
750,000. In the Michagan Avenue forty years ago land 
sold at a dollar a foot, which now would oe snapped up at 
400 dollars," 

" Wiiat about the unearned increment ? " said Compton. 

" Our increment is not unearned, " said Adiram, "it is 
the produce of honest brain and untiring energy. We 
don't take much stock in that kind of Socialist talk in 
Chicago. At least,' he added, " not since 1887. " 

"Why since 1887? " asked Mrs. Irwin, 

" Do you see that statue ? ' said Adiram, pointing 
to the Police Monument that stands at the comer of 
the Haymarket. "That monument answers your ques- 

They approached it and read the inscription, " In the 
name of the people of lUinoLs I command peace." On the 
pedestal stood a policeman in uniform with his hand 
raised. " Weil," said Mrs. Irw^in. " lis the first time I 
ever saw a policeman on a tnoiiument. But what 
happened ? " r 

"It was just seven year,*; ago," said Adiram, "that the 
Anarchist element got out of hand. Anarchists with us 
are imported, and we had some lovely s[)ecimens in those 
days. They were keen for an eight hours day as pre- 

liminary to the general Socialist divide-up, and as it did 
not come along quick enough they tried dyt>amite. Seten 
policemen were killed by a bomb and many injured. How 
many of the mob were killed is unknown, We hanged 
four of their leaders twelve months later and one of them 
blew his off with dynamite in gaoL Since that time 
the policeman has been on tlie monument and in the 

"Then that is why," said Mrs Irwin, maliciously, 'they 
are so rude A London policeman is a born courtier com- 
pared with the boors whom you have in uniform in 

"Let tis hope that the World's Fair will give them 
better manners and a little gentler method of asserting 
their authority, " said Compton. " There is certainly room 
for improvement. I suppose jour officers have a somewhaf 
rough time ? " 

" Rather," said Adiram,. "they have pretty well ch-areti 
out Little Hell now ; but the foreign element is too strong 
to render it possible to enforce either strict Sunday or liquor 
laws. The Lager Beer Riot settled that as long ago as 1855." 

" Dear me, ' said Mrs. Irwin, "that is the sixth ice-cart 
I have seen. Ice sceius an absolute necessity of life to 

" Yes, madam," said Adiram, " that's jujt so. W'e con- 
sume ten thousand tons of ice per day in Chicago in 
summer-time. Half of this is used in the stock-yards, the 
rest is for private consumption. Each big hotel uses ten 
tons a day. Even the dead need it, for the undertakers 
consume two tons a day. We reckon we consume more 
ice and drink more milk per head than anj other city in 
the Union. But, my good friends, it is no use going on this 
way, sauntering about a city like this. If yon want to see 
Chicago you ought to divide it up into sections, and do it 
systematically. " 

Mrs. Irwin sighed. " I spent an hour the other day 
reading Flinn's ' Standard Guide to Chicago.' I 6iid the 
industrious Flinn plans out excursions for thirty-one days, 
during which time he says we shall see a great part, but by 
no means all, of Chicago, Notv, we have not thirty-one 
da>'s to spare, and as we cannot see all of Chicago even in 
a month, I think we had better stop before wc biegin." 

" Tell us," said Comp- 
ton, " what you think is 
best worth seeing in 

" Everything," said 
Adiram, " because 

Chic.igo is the sum of 
everything it contains, 
1 cannot discriminate. 
But if you must Iwgin 
somewhere, and you 
have already seen her 
lofty buildings, her rail- 
ways, her parks and her 
avenues, her elevators, 
and her shipping, you 
ought now to see her 
University, so splen- 
didly endowed by Mr. 
Rockefeller, the Baptist 
and Standard Oil Trust 
millionaire ; the Herald 
newspaper office, one 
of the most magni- 
ficent in the world ; then you should see the Unioo 
Stock Yard, the slaughter-houses, and the packing factories. 
On Sunday you should look into FarwcU Hall, the head- 
quarters of ft!oody and Sankey, and see the Armour 




I . 
1 i 






From the Old World to the New. 

Mission. Then you should drive along State Street, one 
of our long streets, measuring eigbteen miles from end to 
end. But when you have seen all these things you will 
only be at the beginning. I have lived in Chicago twenty 
ye«ia, and I have not seen half of it yet. Its anmial 
grovrth is forty thousand citizens per annum, and it builds 
fifty miles of new buildings every year, " 

" Now, " said ComptOD, " let us sU dovra and have a cup 
of tea. I suppose you have tea here ? although coffee and 
cocoa seem more in demand." 

" Sir," saitJ Adiram, "there ij one professional expert in 
this city who draws a salary of 2;,ooo dolbra per annum 
as a tea taster. ' 

When they were drinking their tea Compton asked 
Adiram if he attributed the phenomenal growth of Chicago 
lo the superior energy of the Western breed. 

" Western breed, sir," said Adiram, who was from the 


State of Maine, "who is talking of Western breed? 
Chicago stands on the road to the West, but even the site 
is in the Eastern half of the Continent, and a^ for her 
citizens, they are more Eastern still. Chicago was financed 
from ttie East, settled from the East, and manned by 
Eaatem men. Look over the list of her mayors, the men 
whose executive ability and force has commanded the 
tecognition of their fellow citizens. Eight out of ten were 
bom in New York or the East coast IHinois has only 
poduccdtwo; two or three came from Kentucky. Chicago 
IS the product of Eastern youth settled on Western soil, 
m the MOit central and convenient location in a territory 
I,ooo miles square.' 

•' Then is the location what has made Chicaso ? " in- 
quired Mrs. Irwin. 

" No," said Adiram. '■ What did the location do for the 
rrench, who had it first ; or for the British, who cleared 
out aftenvardsT No, sir. The world heseaway was only 
baif made until Chicago arose to improve it. Why the 
very Chicago river itself did not know which way to How 
until the city took it in hand. It used to flow in a slow 

sleepy way Kke an open sewer into the Lake, poisonino 
the water the citizens had to drink. How tiid we do it 
sir? Why, we simply turned it right round about, and 
now our river flows south instead of north, and empties 
our sewage into the Gulf of Mexico instead of Lake 
Michigan. It cost us twenty million dollars, but we faced 
the music and paid the bill." 

Aa the good Adiram seems likely to hold forth till the 
crack of doom upon the incomparable qualities of this 
great modern city, it may be well to leave him with 
ComptOD, and to follow the fortunes of the professor and 
Irene. These children of the /:» tfe siecU were now 
almost inseparable. The professor had not proposed 
marriage, nor had he talked of love, although for the first 
time in his life he had felt it as a sentiment. As for Irene 
slie was about as much in love with the professor as she 
could ever be ^vjth anyone. Kor she had drabbled her soul 

out in alternating thrills and 
sensations, until there was 
not enough womanhood left 
in her to rise up majestic 
and irresistible in the might 
of a grt at passion. She was 
pleased ivith the professor. 
He was always giving her 
shocks, sometimes pleasant, 
sometimes not. But he never 
bored her, and he never made 
love to her, and that in itself 
was a .secret of his attrac- 
tion. For Irene had been 
spoiled with attention as 
pastry.cooks' apprentices 
lose their taste for sweetfl. 
She had had too much ef 
it. If a girl has a pretty 
face, a saucy tongue, good 
serviceable eyes, and a smart 
ligure, she can simply swim 
in admiration from the time 
she Is eighteen till she ii 
twenty-six. And after eight 
years of that kind of things 
even loi-e-making by relays 
of lovers grows Irksome. 
Hence, Irene and the pro- 
fessor were thoroughly 
enjoying themselves. Tney 
had been "doing Chicago" 
ever since th^ had arrived. " Chicago first," said the 
professor ; •• the World's Fair afterwards." So they had 
been exhausting the sensations. They ahvays lunched 
in the highest restaurant, for the sake of the lift. The 
rapid elevator that whisks you up and down with electric 
speed delighted Irene. " It is like a switchback with 
a 2oo-fett drop," she said. "It would be just perfect if 
you could be jerked into the ascending lift the moment you 
touch the bottom." 

The professor studied Irene, and humoured her to the 
top of her bent. He was interested in the girl, ac<J 
occasionally he felt as if the inherited instinct of court- 
ship mi^ht assert itself unawares. But the acquired in- 
stinct of the passion for experiment was far stronger than 
his in-ipient afi"ection. Irene *as to him a good type of the 
girl of the period, who in sheer loathing of ennui, would 
do anything for a thrill, and he did not hesitate to subject 
her to cxperi' r.ce ; from which any other man would have 
recoiled, and which occasionally, to do him justice, 
touched even his hardened heart. He took her round all 
the worst streets— slumming, lie called It— and then, still 


From the Slaughter House to the Altar. 



trying it on, lie took har to an opium den ; of course only for 
the gratification of curiosity. She was keen to go, but she 
experienced something even more shocking than she had 
bargained for, when the police raided ttie house while they 
were on the premises and carried them both off to the 
police-station along with the degraded Celestials and their 
half- stupe lied customers. Tlicy were conveyed in a patrol- 
waggon to the lock-up, where, however, after an altogether 
too exciting quarter-of-an-hour, they were liberated by the 
ofScer in charge with a reprimand. This excursion was 
kept a profound secret. No one knew of it, and the 
mystery of the secrecy made it all the more delectable to 
Irene, If Dr. Wynne had heard of it there would have 
been a fu«s. So he was kept in the dark, and the profeisor, 
to do him justice, never repeated that escapade. 

For the most part he took Irene to public institutions. 
He took her through the Bridewell in Californii Avenue, 
through which 10,000 prisiiiers pass annually on the first 
day of their arrival. But their favourite visiting place was 
the penitcnli.iry. Here the professor was at home, and 
as he was one of the first experts in penology in the 
world, he \\'a3 allowed to take Irene aliiost where he 
pleased. Of the 1,500 convictsl in that institution, about 
150, he said, were persons who deserved to be "micro, 
scoped," and he succeeded in introducing her to some 
fifteen of them before she found that even murderers pnll 
when they come to tread one on the heels of another. He 
then introduced her to Michael Dunn, the English thief 
and ex-convict, who, in his old age, has turned philan- 
thropist, and after spending thirty years in British prisons, 
is utilising the experience gained in these public institu- 
tions by scanning Homes of Industry and Refuges for 
Discharged Prisoners in Honore Street, Chicago, in New 
York, San Francisco, and Detroit. She liked the caol- 
bifd, whose conversion, the professor explained, in a 
fashion she could not understand, was due to certain 
physiological changes in the cells in the base of the brain, 

Irene loved to hear the professor talk, and as he loved to 
be listened to, it soon came to be a settled thing that they 
vent everj-where together. Irene was delighted to hear 
from the lips of so eminent an authority, the most delight- 
failly destructive doctrines as to the absence of all moral 
r;-sponsibility on the part of the human automaton, " But 
professor," she ventured to observe one day, " what do 
; ou make of an luveasy conscience ? " 

"Conscience '.'' he answeIL^, "an uneasy conscience — 
oh, it is a species of indigestion," 

When he took her to the Worlds Fair, he bade her note 
that the progress of civilization depended much more upon 
tnaterial inventions than so-called moral ideals. " What 
has made Chicago ? Christianity ? philanthropy ? God 
Almighty? Stuff and nonsense. The only lord and maker 
of Chicago is the Almighty Dollar, His temple is the Stock 
Exchange, his scriptures the stock list. Why, when we 
came from New York in the express train, we had the 
quotations of the Chicago produce market telegraphed 
thrice a day to the vestibule car." 

Irene, who had been brought up in Church and Sunday- 
school, was somewhat shocked, and at the same time 
pleased, although she could not altogether rid herself of 
the lingering remains of that indigestion, conscience. 

" They talk," the professor went on, '■ of Columbus, and 
the Cross, of the men of the Mayflower, and the Bible. 
What did Cross or Bible do for the wilderness for three 
hundred years ? Less than the steam-engine and the 
telegraph have done in our lifetime. Less than the man 
of science — the inventor, the engineer, the chemist — who 
subdues continents and conquers worlds. And people are 
beginning to see it. What is the World's Fair but the very 
apotheosia of Materialism, tiie triumph of Science." 

" There are 200,000 people nt the show to-day, said the 
professor, "and there tre probably not two hundred 
who noticed the two things in the f'air which will most 
profoundly affect the outward appearance of American 

"What are these ? " said Irene, feeling quite certain that 
she was not among the two hundred. 

" Medusaline and pergamoid,' said Glogoul, oracularly. 
" Medusaline is the pavement of civihsition. It is a 
compound of granite and cement that is as smooth as 
asphalt, as durable as adamant It has been laid down 
throughout the Fair, on all footpaths, and it will be used 
throughout the world. Pergamoid is a preparation of 
celluloid, whic'i will be the universal material for all per- 
manent advert',«ng. As tough as bone, as flexible as cloth, 
and almost as »*heap as paper, it will revolutionise the 
outward appearanv~ of the United States." 

" Really,*' said Irene. " Is not that rather a lar^ 
order ? " 

" No,'' said the professor. " What is the outward 
appearance of the United States— the Rockies, the 
prairies, the great lakes ? Nothing of the kind. They only 
appear on maps. What appears to the natural eye every 
day is not mountain ranges but advertising posters, and 
for one man who sees a lake or a prairie, there are a 
thousand who see the various artifices by which quacks 
and other tradesmen disfigure their country in order to 
puff their goods." 

" Dear me," said Irene. " I never thought of that 

" It is everywhere the same," continued the professor, 
" What is going to revolutionise the roads of the continent 
F*rcaching about the wickedness of mud and mire ? Ex- 
hortations about the duty of promoting human intercourse? 
All the sermons since the days of Jonathan Edwards have 
done less to mend the roads than has been effected by the 
invention of the bicycle. The electric motor will complete 
what the bicycle has begun. What is it that will end 
wars ? Brotherly love ? Religion ? No ; it will be found 
by a chemist who will discover Vril, or by a mechanic who 
will give us the secret of flight," 

" "Then if you wanted to change the world ? " said Irene. 

"I would only ask for one thing," he replied promptly, 
"and t^ at is ten per cent Give me ten per cent, and I 
can wOjk miracles. It was said by them of old time, ' If 
ye have failh but as a grain of mustard sc€d, ye shall say 
to this mountain, be thou removed and tie thou cast into 
the sea. and it shall be done.' But I say if you can hut pay 
ten per cent, you can trundle the Rockies into the Pacific 
All things are possible to ten per cent. With ten per 
cent, you can do all thingi. Yes, for ten per cent men 
will sell their lives — for their souls they can now-a-days 
find no purchasers." 

" Do you really think men will sell their hves for ten 
per cent ? " said Irane. 

"1 know it Guarantee ten per cent, for draining 
a miasmatic marsh or laying down a railway through a 
hostile country, the sacrifice of life is nc; even thought of 
as an obstacle. Money can buy all things — even life 
Pshaw, what i > life ? " 

Irene was silent "It is very pleasant to live some- 
times — at least, I find it so now and then," she said, look- 
ing up at him somewhat archly. 

The professor accepted the compliment with a smile, 
and by way of showing his gratitude he suggested that 
next day she should accompany him to the famous Union 
Stock Yards, where eight million pigs, three million and a 
half cattle, and one million sheep are handled every year. 
Of these, about two million cattle and six million pigs am 
slaughtered in Chicago. Without thinking much about it. 


From the Old World to the New. 

Irene said she would be delighted to go with him any- 

"The Birl h gime,' said the professor to himself, "she 
has nei-er flinched yet." Then he said aloud. '■ All rtgnt, 1 
will call for you at nine, and dont dress too gaily, for these 
places are not exactly like the Worlds Fair/' 

That night as he lay awake the professor found h;msell 
engaged in calculating whether he had not exhausted the 
experimental possibilities of celibacy, and whether, even if 
he had not done so. it would not be wise to begin the 
experimental study of matrimony. 

" If 1 am to marrj- I ouglit to have a wife who would 
be willing to learn, who would he a good listener, and who 
would have plenty of pluck. And so far as my observa- 
tion has gone, Miss Vernon seems to fill the bill better 
than any, Ko doubt marriage would not b*-- paradise, but 
itiithc purgatory of the race, and why snould I not go 
through it like the rest '^ " 

Revolving these things he ftll asleep. At nine next 
morning he called on Irene. To his dismay she was 
arrayed in a beautiful white dress with a coquettish little hat, 
and a gauzy jacket fastened in front with a felood red rose. 

•■But Miss V'emot),' he stammered, " wc are going to 
ihe slaughter-house. Do you think that dress — — ? " 

"And is it not good enough for the butchers? she 
asked, laughing. ■• Why I thought it looked very smart as 
I looked at myself in the glass ! 

'■ Oh, yes,' said the professor, "very beautiful indeed. 

But, but 

'■ But me no buts, professor. 1 am not going to change 
my dress for any one. So if you are ready we will start." 


The professor yielded, and they were soon driving 
rapidly to the Union Stock Yards, Irene was in 
high spirits. Never had she seemed more beautiful, not 
even when her evening toilette, as the .Xfaj'estu neared 
New York, revealed to the prolessor the secret of the 
worship of Aphrodite. 

"Here wc are," said he, as they drew up opposite the 
main entrance of the stock-yards A guide instantly ac- 
costed ihem, and was chartered to take them round. " But 
the lady's dress ? " said the guide 

<i Never mind my dressi, " said Irene. " Goodness, what 
a smelt ! " 

The wind had slightlj' veered round to the west, and the 
odour of the packing-houss was unmistakable. From 
the restaurant gallery they looked down upon the swarm- 
•ng acreage of cattle pens where fotty thousand head of 
We stock are handled every week-day in the year. They 
aw the agent of the Live Stock Commission riding up and 
lo«T!, keeping a keen look-out upon the cattle for evi- 
dences of suffering r. r lameness or disease. " There," 
I said the prolessor, "isphilanthropy on horseback— earning 
a living. But look at that bunko steer who is trained to 
Bct as guide and decoy to the cattle doomed to slaughter. 

He is a noted character in the yard is ' Old Bill.' From 
morning to night, he is employed in luring his kith and 
kin to walk tranquilly from the stockyard to the killing- 
rooms. He lead i them to the gate, and then steps aside, 
waits till they pass to their doom, and then quietly goes 
back to lead another contingent to the slaughter. Jt is 
murderous treason on four hoofs — earning its Kving. Yet 
no one blames the bunko steer. No one holds him up to 
moral reprobation. He does but as he is taught, no 
doubt ; and so do we. But when Avill men recognise 
'that they also arc creatures of their enrironment ? " 

" Come," said he to Irene, " and see what kind of thing 
is life ; how easily it is taken, how simple is the trans- 
formation from the living pig to merchantable pork," 

Irene held a scented handkerchief to her nose as she 
followed the professor, who picked his steps through the 
dirt as of a farm-yard, leading the way to the killing-house. 
Up an inclined plane towards the chamber of death 
walked a drove of pigs marked for slaughter. With many 
a bewildered grunt and squeal the porcine company was 
driven on and on until they entered a pen on the landing 
vvherc the killing was going on,_ 

"Life, you ask, what is life ? " said the professor. 
"What is it to these poor creatures ? They arc using their 
sharp, inquisitive eyes to the best of their ability and un- 
derstanding nothing for all their lookiiig. Who knows 
what beatific mions of limitless swill -tub and juicy and 
succulent mash gleam before these doomed porkers. 
Life has not been unpleasant lo them I daresay. They 
gambolled merrily in their days of litterdom, they fed 
freely, and slept soundly on the breezy^ prairie. They are 
full of lusty life, and probably never loved it more than 
they do to -day. But let us go inside," 

Th=y entered the slaughter house. The stench was 
almost unbearable. The floor was slippery with blood. 
At the door a stalwart man slipped a nmning nooae round 
the hind leg of the nearest pig. In an instant the rope 
was pulled tight, and the pig was jerked head downwards, 
and swung on a long iron overhead runner dipping down- 
wards towards the Other end of the room, where stood the 
vat over which tliey bled to death. 

Standing ready to receive his prey was the slaughterer 
with a long, sharp knife in his right hand. Seizing the 
pig by one ear with his left hand, he plunged the knife 
into its throat, gave it a murderous twist, and drew it out. 
The v^arm blood spurted over his hand, but the pig had 
already begun to slide towards the vat. Another pig 
was swinging ready for sticking, and so the procession 
went on. A dozen or more pigs in progressive stages of 
inanition were bleeding to death, those further doH-n were 
almost motionless, the last stuck vt-ere struggling horribly. 
The steam of tlie hot blood made a mist before their 
eyes. But still they could see that sharp, bright steel 
"going always," and they knew that a life went with 
every thrust. "Smart man that," said their guide, "he 
kills hogs every d,iy." Irene was looking on as if 
fascinated, when a more lively porker than ordinary, on 
receiving tlie knife in his throat, shrieked horribly, as with 
a human-like voice, and twisting himself round, flung some 
of his spurting blood upon Irenes dress. She stepped 
hurriedly back, her foot slipped, and before the professw 
could catch her, she fell full length into the gory, greasy 
mire with which the floor was covered. 

Irene struggled to her feet. Her face was deadly pate. 
but her beauiiful white dress was bedrabbled from head 
to foot ivith blood, 'The professor looked at her and 
remorse filled his soul. " My dear Miss 'Vcmon," he said 
anxiously, " what shall we do ? '' 

Irene felt she was on her mettle. She had not been a 
fortnight in constant company of an experimental phj-sio- 

From the Slaughter House to the Altar. 


legist without knowing the importance of sucii a test of 
her s«lf-posses8ioii and self-control, " Do ! " she said coolly, 
■' why, I thought you were going to take me through the 

"Hut, my dear Miss Vernon," he began, "your 

dress •" 

" \'o» seem very difficult to please about my dress to- 
day, ' said Irene, affecting a laugh, although she felt deadly 
faint and much more inclined to cry. " Why Ciin we not 
go through the programme here and now ? ' she said to the 
guide, who had Ijeeii scraping the thickest of the dirt off 
with a bit of hoop- iron. " That will do, I am quite ready 
to go through with it." 

But the professor would not hear of such a thing. Stie 
must not dream of it. 
She must retire at once 
and semi for another 
dress or l)orrc;wa cloatc. 
Iri-'iie, delighted at see- 
ing that she w;is much 
more seH-pdss' ssed 
than the professor, at 
last gave in, with every 
appearance of reluc- 
tance, although she 
was so de.idty sick It 
was with the utmost 
difli ulty she kept her 
feet, "RememlxT,"shc 
9uid, " it was not I \vl a 
flinched.'' And they k'li 
her out into an ante- 
room, where after a 
time a maid was pro- 
cured, and she was 
divested of her soiled 
and b lood-btained 

Before retiring she 
begged the pmfesbor 
to go round the pkitc. 
She conld find hcT vv;iy 
home alone. But the 
professor would not 
hear ol it. He hung 
round the ante-room 
the picture of misery, 
w.iiting until she 
emerged. She was a 
good while, and he be- 
came more and more 
wretclied, " What a 
wretch I was," lie said 

to himself, "to expose her to this. But what splendid 
pluck ! What iron nerve ! That's the woman for me— if 
only 1 haven't lost her," he added bitterly "She will 
never forgive me. And I daresay I deserve it. ' 

But when Irene came out clad in a long cloak that con- 
cealed all the deftciencics in her toilet, she was quite 
cordial, althoufih she gently bantered him for not going 
round tiie packing-house. But she was obviously faint, 
attd he was very glad to get her into a carriage and drive 
off with her to the hotel. 

As they were on their way, the professor, in an aliaent- 
minded kind of way, took one of Irene's hands and pressed 
it to his lips. 

"Really, sir," said Irene, bridling up, " this is too much. 
After letting me fall in that horrid puddle, to kiss my 
hand. I should have thought it would have been too 

" Irene ! •' said the professor. Her eyes dilated as she 
heard him address her for the first time by her Chrirtian 
name, but she said nothing. 

" Irene, forgive me. I beg you to forgive lue. But 1 
forgot what I was doing. Or rather, I was thinl- ing of the 

future. That is "and hestopped, hopelessly con fused. 

Irene looked at him calmly, and said, "Is this a physio- 
logical experiment, professor ? or "—and she dropped her 

eyes— "is it ?" 

Ltr. Glogout was grateful for the opening. Grasping 
both her hands in his, he exclaimed, " It is, it is. Oh, 
forgive me, 1 am so soi ry. I never admired you more 
than I did this momin(;. You were so beautiful. But I 
never loved you so miicii as when you got up and wanted 

to go round, Irene, 
you have more nerve 
than I possess. I need 
such a uoman as 
you. Will you t»e my 

And h'' bowed his 
head to licr knee and 
kissed her hand with 
more feeling than s-ie 
deemed pcissi^'lc 

"Well," saiJ Irene, 
'' I til ink I need such 
a man as you, and as 
yon ask me I think I 

will, "But " 

" But what ? ' said 
the p r o f e }: s o r, 

" I want to be mar- 
ried in the Mormon 
Talxrnaclc in Salt 
Lake City, That 
won Id be so delight- 
fully amusing." 

" Irene," said the 
professor, "I'll marry 
you anywhere or no- 
where. No, I don't 
mean that," he stam- 
mered. " But I'll do 
what you please about 

And then he leaned 
forward and kissed 
her. It is notable, as 
an instance of the 
habit of scientiGc ob- 
servation and reflec- 
tiun vvliich the professor always cultivated, that when 
their lips met for the first time he was thinking whether 
the scent with which she had copiously sprinkled her 
hair, or the odour of the pack i.ig- house, which hngered about 
them both, would the soonrr evaporate. 

" Irene," said the )irofes.';()r, thoughtfully, " I am afraid 
I have behaved very badly to you more than once. But 
in the future I shall cxjierimcnt upon you just as if you 
were myself, I promise you jnst as if you were part and 
parcel of myself. Oh, experiments we shall have, 
for in vitisection two are better than one," 

" He is only marrying me as a subject," thought Irene, 
as she went upstairs to bathe and purify herself. "Well, 
perhaps so. And what am I marrying him as, I wonder 7 
As a div-ersion and as a livelihood 7 Possibly. It is six ol 
one and half-a-dozen of the other." 
With which sage reflection she comforted her soul, and 


'.il ■ 



From the Old World to the New. 



when she came dovvn lO dinner no one could have suspec- 
ted tlirough what a crisis she had passed earlier in the day. 

There \vas a gathering of the Blue Brigade at the 
hotel that night, and tl lero was much excitemt-nt as Brst 
Compton and tlicn the professor announced their tesjwc- 
tive marriages. 

" r congratulate you both," said the doctor, and Mrs. 
Wills said she tiiought them all well-matched. After dinner 
the tittle company gathered together in the drawing-room of 
the hotel and began to discuss their next movements. 

" Chicago," said Mrs. Invin, " seems to be one of the 
easiest places in the world from which to get away. You 
want to go away cast, north, south or west, you pay your 
money and you fcike your choice. We have tlie whole 
world before us, and where are we going ?*" 

" That depends," said the professor, " upon two things ; 
first, where you want to go and secondly, whether a good 
number of human beings have bad that wish before, in 
order that you find the necessary apparatus already con- 
structed to carry you there." 

" First,'' said the doctor, " Mrs. WiUa has to go to San 


Fraticisro. I suppose there is no doubt about the way 
siie should go ? '' 

■' No," said Compton, who had before him a mass ol 
handbooks, railway-guides, and similar literature, "her 
course is quite plain. She will go by the Uision Pacific 
through Utah and on to thp Golden Gate. It is the old- 
est Trans-continental railway, and wlien once you arc 
aboard you neeil have no further auiiety until you get out 
at tlie other end,'' 

•' That settles Mrs. Wills," said Irene, " for her it is all 
plain sailing. But for us Professor," said she play- 
fully, " where have we to go ? ' 

" I have been thinking," said the professor. " There is 
only one place on the continent which would gii-e you a 
strong enough thrill in order to prepare you for matrimony, 
and that is the Grand Canon of the Colorado." 

"Where on earth is that ? " said Irene. 

" It is in .Arizona. It is the most awe-inspiring, terrible 
and wonderful place in the whole of the United States." 

" I can see tliat Miss Vernotis mouth is already water- 
ing."' said the doctor, "but how on earth do you eel 
there?" * 

•' It is not so difficult now," said the professor, " as it 

was some ten years ago when I was there examining the 
remains of the cave dvrellers who many centuries ago lived 
en the sides of the Great Canon." 

" But what is the Great Canon ? " persisted Irene, 
"That," said the professor, "you will understand when 
you get there. No tODgue can explain what even the eye 
inadequately siu-veys. The ancients would have made it 
the mouth of hell. Science, howc^-er, has stopped the 
value of tliese pictures<iue methods of describing the in- 
describable. It is a gigantic gorge which the Colorado 
Kivcr has cut through iimestone, sandstone and granite. 
To get to the bottom of this awful chasm you have to 
scramble down a mule path as steep as Jacob's ladder, 
for nearly five miles. Long before the bottom is 
reached the mule path gives out and you have then 
to descend by means of rope ladders into the abyss 
along which the waters roar like a cataract, and the 
mountains rise almost in [.lerpendicular walU 3,000 feet 
abo\e your head. It is only twenty-six years ago since the 
first exploring party ventured to survey it, and do one who 
saw them launch their boats on the terrible river expected 

to see them emerge alive 

"Well," said Irene, 
"I think that sounds 
promising. But is it big 
enough ? for since Ihave 
come to this cw nlry I 
have contracted a taste 
for dimensions." 

" The Grand Cation is 
just the size of Switzer- 
land, about 1 square 
miles. By the Topeki 
and Santa Ye Raibvay 
you travel within sixty- 
five miles from Flagstaff, 
from whence you make 
the descent into the 
abyss. From the Grand 
Canon we shall have 
several weeks of moun- 
taineering with pack 
horses, camping out, 
in order to reach Utah." 
" That fi.i:es you up," 
said Mrs. Ir\vin. "Now 
for our turn. Where shall we go?" 

" 'V\'el]," said Compton, " I have been studying the map 
fur some time. I first thought of going to the Yoscmite, 
but it lies just a little too much out of the way; every- 
one goes to the Yosemitc ; in midsummer it would be 
|>leasanter to get to a higher region, more to the north. 
My plan is that we should go through the North West 
and Minneapolis and sttike the North Tacilic, and then 
along the maiu line to the Yellowstone Park, and spend 
a quiet fortnight by the side of the Yellowstone Lake. 
There is no lake so large tiiat lies so high above the 
level of the sea. From there we will run down W 
Portland in Oregon and finish our honeymoon on the 
shores of the Pacific, looking out over the illimitable 
expanse of sea which divides us from (he land of the 
rising sun." 

" The Yellowstone =c nW very well,'' said the professor to 
Irene, " bvit the whole of the Yellovvstone Park, lake and 
al', could be tucked away in one of t'le gorges through 
which we shall have to clamber to get to the bottom of the 
Great Canon. You have no idea xvhat sort of a place it is. 
I can assure yovi that Niagara is but a trout stream when 
compared with the torrent of the C-olorado." 

From the Other Side. 


"But doctcr," said Compton, "ivhcn you leave are you 
going to travel further afield or going straight home ? " 

" 1 shall go 
home," said the 
doctor, " by the 
Lake Shore and 
Michigan Kail- 
\iay, which will 
take me to Nia- 
gara. I do not 
wish to leave 
the country with- 
out seeing the 
Falls. When I 
was i» boy it 
seemed to be 
the one attrac- 
tion which »vas 
strong enough 
to lure a man 
across the At- 

"And from 
Niagara^ — ? " 

" And from 
Niagara 1 shall 
strike the beau< 
tiful country 
which is served 
by the Delaware 
and Hudson 
Line, which will 
bring me back 
to New York. 
From there of 
course it is plain 
sailing to Liver- 

" In another 
wee k," said 
Irene, '' we shall 
be scattered to 
the utteiinost 
ends of the 
earth. The pro- 
fessor and 1 
shall be at the 
mouth of hell, 
Mr. and Mrs. 
Compton will 
be it the Yel- 
lowstone Park 
and un their 
way to t ii e 
Pacific, and the 
doctor will be 
wending his 

way hemewards 
over the At- 
lantic. Heigho, 
wi)o knows whether we 
world 1 " 

As they left the room, the doctor said to the profes- 
sor, '• It is all very well this 1 ion cymooning before marriage, 
but you_ must havt' (he civil ceremony ovt-r before you 
leave Chicago, tiie marriage in Utah can come after- 

" All right," said the professor ; •' but make her bplieve 
It la only a preliminary formality. Othe^^vise it would 
Bpoil her thrill r' 


shall ever meet again in this 

Chapter XIX.— From the Other Side. 
Rose was still weak and unable to get about. Mrs. 
Julia made it her duty to call upon her every morning! 
One day she startled Kose by saymg, ■■ Robert woke me 
last night. I was sound asleep in the hotel, when sud- 
denly 1 became conscious of a presence in the room. I 
woke up in a moment, and there by my bedside 1 i2w him 
as plainly as ever I saw him in life. He liwked at me with 
a yearning look of intinite love in his eyes, and then, as I 
stretched out my hands, he slowly faded away." 

" VVcre you not dreaming?" said Rose, incredulously. 

"i was as wide awake as ever 1 was in my life," said 
Mrs. Juha. ■•Besides, this is not tfe first time I have seen 
him. I saw him quite as distinctly shortly after his death. I 
am almost always conscious of his presence. Jt seemed l» 
me quite natural that he should appear to me. When wl 
first fell in love we promised ihat whichever of us died 
I he first would, if possible, come back to the world to com- 
liirt (he other with news of the other side. But, alas, I 
am unable to hear what he says, and I grieve to think that 
he is hovering around trying to communicate with me, and 
that I am unable to understand his loving messages from 
iHjyond the grave." 

This made a deep impression upon Rose. She was 
naturally mystical. Her giriliood had been nurtured on 
the two bor>ks which are of all in English literature the 
fullest of the sitpcrnalural, the Hible and Shakcspeare. 
It did not seem to her unnatural that Koliert Juha should 
ha\'e come lo see his wi<low after his decease. She had 
always counted confidently upon Waller visiting her if he 
had preceded her to the invisible world. As for Iwrself, 
she knew that the first and last thought ot her liberated 
spirit would have been lo seek him whom she had loved 
so long. 

But she had never imagined that afjgravation of 
misery, the torture of Tantalus, the possibility of the 
disembodied spirit being able 1 1 approach without 
lieing able to communicate with the beloved one 
She thought over it a good deal. She found in 
Aunt Deborah's book -she Ives some old numbers of the 
late Colonel Bundy's -Religious Philosophical Journal," 
and read them eagerly ai:d oiligently- There was 
to be ii congress, she saw, of all the psychical re- 
searchers of the world at the Chicago Exhibitioiv 
Chicago, not content with collecting all the trea- 
sures of the Old World and the .^ew. must alsc 
cast its plummet info the immeasurable abyss of the 
iuliiiite, and interrogate (he linisibie. demanding its 
answer to the problems of tin- world. Kose did not care 
lor congresses, but an article in the paper on automatic 
haiidMiiting caught her attention. ■' Take a fien," it said, 
•' hold it in your hand over :i sheet of blank pa[]er, keep 
your mind passive and wait. In many cases your hand 
w'dl begin to write of its own accord, and alter a time 
you will l)e able to secure lomoiunications from those 
who are on llic other side." 

Kose read it, re-read it, and then decided to try it. At 
first her hand remained as motionless as if it had bceti 
made of lead. She was (jeginning to despair, when it 
began to show some tendency to move. She watched it 
with fascinated interest. There was no doubt about it. 
The pen was moving. She was not consciously moving 
it, of that she was certain, but it only made iiiiiritelligible 
scrawls. Still, it moved. It might write some day.- She 
tried again. It moved more freely, and its scrawls mighl 
possibly be construed as a I tern pis to frame legible worda. 
The third time it wrote quite clearly, •■ Robert Julia.'' 
" Are you here ? ' she asked. 



~ I 


From the Old World to the New. 

I I: 


Then 8l',.^^Iy, tut disUnrtly. hct haod wrote, in large 
Roman cliaracters, " I am," . .- i. _i 

There the pen stopped. Rose s heart was beating hard 
89 she watched licr hand, holding her breath, and hardly 
daring to speak. Then it began to move, formnig letter 
after letter slowly, and with infinite labour, as if some one 
was trying to use the pen by manipulating her elbow from 

"Tell my wife,'' it wrote -and then paused, then it 
began again—" not to gric\-e because she cannot speak to 
me I am constantly with her, impressmg her mind and 
leading the thoughts of lier mind,' 

■' Yea," said Rose, plucking up courage. " but how am 1 
to know that you are her husband who is writing? Can 
you give me a test ? " v n 

Her pen ciuivcred, and then slowly wrote, " Yes. 

" Go on, then," said Rose, 

And hfT hand uTote : ■■ Ask Adelaide to remember what 
I said to her the last day we went to Minen'a." 

•■ Minerva." said Kf»e, " is thai right ?" 

" Yes," wrote the hand. 

" But how could she go to Mineiva ? la Minerva a 

" No, ' wrote the hand. 

" Then this is nonsense," said Rose decisively, " How 
could you go to Miner\'a, who was an old heathen 
goddess ? " 

And her hand \vrole, " Never mind. Deliver the mes- 
sage to Adelaide, she will understand.'* 

Rose did not like it. The message was all right ; the 
test w:is lotilishncss. She hesitated So say aiiytliinc 
about it to her friend, but ultimately decided she had 
belter tell her exactly what had ha[)[)encd, 

Mrs, Julia came in next day. 

With many apnlogies. Rose nentioned what had hap- 
pened, and said she did not like to speak of it, the proffered 
test was so absurd. 

'• Well. ' said Mrs, Julia, " what was it ? " 

Rose read it out with some degree of sHame ; "Ask 
Adelaide to remember what I said to her the last day we 
went to Minerva." 

" That is quite absurd, is it not ? " she asked. 

" No," said Mrs. Julia, with deep feeling. " 1 remember 
it perfectly." 

" But how," asked Rose in amazement, " but how could 
you go to Minerva ? " 

" Of course, my dear Rose, you do not understand," 
said the widow ; " but we had a very dear friend «-hom we 
always called Minerva, as a pel name, because of a brooch 
she wore that had on it a cameo of Minerva's head. The 
last day on which we went to Minerva was the day before 
lie tlied. Well indeed do 1 remember the solemn words 
to which he calls my attenlinu." 

Rose was startled. .She had never before realised as an 
actual possibility the establishment of direct communica- 
tion between the living arid the dead. 

' Adelaide," she said, '• if it is really your husband, let 
me ask him to give me another test, ft is too wonderfully 
blessed a hope to be admitted on a single test." 

The widow did not ansiver. Her heart was too full of 
memories of the past. Rose got her pen and paper and, 
sitting down, said : 

" If you are really Adelaide's husband, -ivouhl yen reveal 
some incident which she will remember but which is 
entirely unknown to me? Any little trivial thing will 
J do," she added hurriedly, for she feared the p,-"'ible 
effect which the revival of more serious events might tave 
upon her friend. 

Then she waited. Presently her hand began to move. 
The two women watched its movements as they might 

have watched the rolling away of the stone that scaled the 
sepulchre. The words slowly formed at first and then 
more rapidly. When the message was complete Rose 
read it aloud to the widow. It ran thus : — 

"Robert Julia, Yes. Ask her to remember the day 
we were walking together, when she slipped and sprained 
her ankle ? 

"Well," said Rose, "I certainly know nothing aboiit 
that. Do you remember it, Adelaide?" 

Adelaide, still more or less confused by the first 
message, said slowly, " Well, no. I do not think I ever 
sprained my»nkle." 

" Re.illy V " said Rose in a disappointed tone. Then 
addressing the unknown entity which controlled her hand] 
she said in a mocking lone, "There! what is the use of 
your test ? Adelaide never sprained her ankle, so you 
are all wTong, Your teat is no good." 

To her amazement her hand wrote : "No, I am quite 
right. She has forgotten. ' 

" [t Is all very well to say that," said Rose, " but how 
can you prove it ? I low long ago was it ? " 
And hir liand wrote ; " .Seven years." 
".And where did it occur > " she continued. 
" On the tetrace at Windsor ; we were walking there 
shortly after we were engaged, when she slipped her foot 

ami -" 

"I remember," iuternipted Adelaide; "I remember 
perfectly ! How could 1 have forgt'tten it ! He had 
almost to tarry me to a cab. 1 nearly fai.-led with the 

And then she added, awe si ruck: "(), Robtrt! Robert! 
then it is really you? Do tell me what has happened to 
you s^iiice, siiicc^ — — " and hrr vuice broke ddwn. 

Rose, very pale and quivering with a fense of the 
presence of the dead, once nirre placed her pen on the 
paper. Adelaide interrupted her, " No, tiot now ; I can- 
cot bear it novv. Let me go.' 

Rose put her arms round her friend's neck and kissed 
her tenderly. "Ye»,' said :;he, "you had better go. It 
is too wonderful," 

But (he moment Mrs, Julia had left. Rose resumed 
her place at the (able, and said: "Mr. Julia, your wife 
has gone. But had yeu not better take my hand and 
write her a letter, just as if you were on earth. 1 will 
send it to her." 

The pen at once began to move at the top of the sheet 
of letter paper : " My darling Adelaide.'" Then after 
some tender and touching greetings, the invisible vmter 
went on to say that he did not think he could do better 
than just tell Iier what had happened to him since he 
passed over. Then he continued as follows : — 

"When 1 left you, darling, you thought I was gone from 
you for ever, or at least till you also passed over. But I 
was never so near to you as after I had, what you called, 

"I found myself free from my body. It was such a strange 
new feeling. 1 was standing close to the bedside on which 
my body was lying ; 1 saw everything in the room just as 
before I closed my eyes. 1 did not feel any pain ' dying ; 
I leit only a great calm and peace. Then I awoke, and I 
was standing outside my old body in the room. There 
was no one there at tirst, just myself and my old body. 
At first I wondered I was so strangely well. Then 1 saiv 
that I had passed over. 

" I wailed about a little ; then the door opened and Mrs. 
Judson came in. She was very sad; she addressed my 
poor body as if it was myself. I was standing looking at 
her. but all her thoughts vvere upon the poor old body I 
had left behind. I did not try to spe* at first, I wait«d 
to see what would happen. 

From the Other Side. 



"Then I Mtas though a great warm flood ot light had 
come into the room, and I saw an angel She, for she 
eeemed to be a female, came to me and said, -~ 

" ' I am sent to leath you tlie laws of the new life.' 

"And as I looked, she gently touched me and said, — 

" • We must go.' 

" Then 1 left the room and my poor old body, and passed 
out. It was so strange, the streets were full of spirits. I 
could see them as we passed, liiey seemed to be just like 
ourselves. My angel had wings ; they were very beauti- 
ful. Slie was all robed in white. 

"We went at first through the streets, then we went 
through the air, till we came to the place where we met 
frieniis who had passed on before. 

•■There were Mr. Morgan, and Mr. Mitchell, and Ethel 
Julia, and many others. They told me much alx»ut the 
spirit world. Tliey said 1 must t<>arii its laws, and en- 
deavour to lie as useful as 1 could. The augel who 
remained with me all the time he 1 pod me kt explain. 

" The spirit friends had their life much as it was here ; 
they lived and loved, and if they had not to work for thetr 
daily bread, iliey had still plenty to do. 

" Then 1 be(;an to be sad about you, and 1 wanted to go 
back ; the augci took me s \vi ft ly through the air to where I 
came from. When I entered the death chamber there lay 
my body. It was 110 longer of interest to me, but 1 was so 
grieved to see how you were all greeting over my worn-out 
clothes. 1 wisJied to speak to you. 1 saw you, darling, 
all W'ct with tears, and 1 was so sad 1 could not cheer you. 
I very much \?atited to speak and tell you how near I was 
to you, but I could not make you hear. 1 tried, but you 
took no notice. 1 said to the angel,^ 

" ' Will it be always thus ? ' 

"She said,--' Wait i the time will come when you will 
speak with her. But at prKent she cannot hear, neither 
can she understand.' 

'■ 1 was then called away. I found myself in a great ex. 
panse of landscape where f had never been before, I was 
alone ; that M, I saw no one, But you are never really 
alone. We are always living in the presence of God. But 
1 saw no one. Then, I heard a voice. 1 did not see from 
whence it came, or who spoke. I only heard the words, 
' Robert Julia, //<r 'wko ssved tlue •would fiiin speak •mith 
thee.' I listened, but no words other than tb«se were 

" Then I said, ' W'no is it tliat sjJCaks ? ' And, behold, 
a flaming fire -really like fire though in human shape. 
I was afraid. Then He spoke and said, ' Be not afraid. 
It is 1, who am appointed to teach thee the secret 
things of Cod.' Then I saw that the btightness as of 
fire was otdy the brightness that comes from the radiant 
love of the Immortals. 

"Then the flame-bright One said to me, ' Robert, behold 
your Saviour ! ' and when I looked, 1 saw Him. He was 
Bitting on a seat dose to me, and He said, ' Be- 
loved, in my Fathers House are many mansions ; here 
am 1 whom you have loved so long. I have prepared a 
place for you.' 

" And I said, ' Where, oh, my Lord ? ' he smiled, and in 
the brightness of that smile I saw the whole landscape 
change as the Alps change in the sunset. v\'hich I saw to 
often from the windows of my hotel at Lucerne. Then 1 
■aw that I was not alone, but all around and above were 
fair and loving forms, some of those whom I had known, 
others of whom I had heard, while some were strange. 
But all were friends, and the air was full of love. And in 
the midst of all was He, my Lord and Saviour. He was 
as a Man ajnotig men. He was full of the wonderful 
sweet mildness which you are acquainted with in some of 
ttie pictures that have been painted by the Italian Fra 

Angelico, He had an admirable look of warm affection, 
which was as tlie very breath of life to my soul. He i? 
with us always. This is Heaven— to be with Him. Yoi 
cannot understand how the consciousnes; of Mis presenc*< 
makes the atmosphere of this world so different from thai 
with you. There are many things I wish I could write to 
you, but I cannot, nor could you understand them. I can 
only tell you that He is more than we ever have imagined. 
He is the Source and Giver of all good gifts. All that we 
know of what is good, and sweet, and pure, and noble, 
and lovable are but faint reflections of the immensity of 
the glory that is His. And He loves us with such ten- 
der love ! Oh, Adelaide, -VdcUide, you and I used to love 
each other with what seemed to us sometimes too deep 
and intense a love, but that at its very best was but the 
pale reflection of the love with which He loves us, which 
is marvellously and wonderfully great beyond all po^er of 
mind to descril>e. His name is Love ; it is what He is^ 
Love, Love, Love 1 " 

When the hand had finished writing the letter Rose read 
it over. She hesitated a moment about sending it. Who 
was Mrs. J udson ? Who were the others who were 
named ? Had they ever existed 't Were they dead ? It 
would l)e ghastly if Mrs. Julia knew none of them ! Hose, 
however, did not feel justified in keeping ihe letter back. 
She posted it and waited anxiously for the morning. 

Early next morning Mrs Julia came to sco her. There 
was an exalted look in her eyes — a look as of triumpli and 
of radiant delight. Rose glanced at her hastily, fearing to 
reveal her anxiety. 

"Oh, Hose," said the widow as she kissed her, "it is 
really Robert. How wonderful ! " 

" What ! " said Rosj, " are you quite sure? " 

"Yes," said Mrs. Julia, seating herself, "it is Robert 
himself. How else could yon have written of these peo- 
ple of whom you knew nothing'^" 

" Then," said Rose, hurriedly, " were the names right ? ' 

"Mrs. Judson," said the widow, ''was my huslwnd's 
nursj at the hospital. Mr, Morgan was his brother-in-law 
who died some years since. Ethel was his little sister who 
died in childhood. Mr. Mitchell was his most intimat« 
friend. No, 1 can no longer doubt. It is Robert himself. 
But oh, 1 want to know so much more. Do you think lie 
will write again 'f " 

" We can ask, ' said Rose ; and sitting down to the table 
she once more let her unconscious hand be guided over 
the paper by the invisible control. It began, " 1 am here, 
Robert Julia.'' 

" Robert," said Adelaide, '■ where are you, and how df 
you live now ? Tell me everything." 

And Rose's hand began writing. "I cannot tell yoi 
everything, you could not imderstand it. But I am in a 
state of bliss such ;»s we never imagined when on earth. 
I am with my friends who went b)cfore.*' 

"Your father, Robeit," said the widow, " is he with you, 
the dear old man V " 

And the hand went on wTiting. "He is, but he no 
longer seems to be old. He is like me, not older than 1 
seem to be. We are both young, ivilh what seems to be 
immortal youth. We can. when we [tleasc, assume 
the old bodies or their spiritual counterparts as we can 
assume our old clothes for purposes of identification, but 
our spiritual bodies here are young and licautiful. There 
is a semblance iK-tween what we are and what we were. 
We might recognise the new by its likeness to the old, 
but it is very dilTcrenL The disembodii'd soul soon 
assumes the new raiment of youth, from which all decay 
has been removed. 

•' 1 find it so difficult to explain how we live, and how we 
Spend our time. W'e never weary, and do not need to 



From the Old Would to the New. 

sleep as we did on earth; neither do we need to cat or 
drink ■ these things were necessary for the matt-nal body, 
here we do not need them, I think wc can best teach you 
what we experience by asking you to remember those 
moments of exaltation when, in the light of the setting or 
risiiiR sun, you look out, happy and content, upon the land- 
scan- upon which the sun's rays have shed their magical 
beauty There is peace ; there is life ; thire is beauty ; 
above all, there is love. Beauty e^-erywherc, joy and love. 
Love, love is the secret of Heaven. God is love, and 
when you are lost in love yoit arc found in God. 

" You ask mc what we feel .ibfuit the sin and sorrow of 
the world. We reply that we S4-e it, and seek to remove it. 
Dut it does not oppress us as it used to do, for we see the 
other side. We cannot doubt the love of God. We live 
in it. It is the greatest, the only real thing. The sins 
and sorrows of the earth-hfe are but as shadows that will 
flee away. But they arc not merely on the earth plane ; 
there is sin and there is sorrow omthis side. Hell is on 
I his side as well as Heaven. But it is the joy of Heaven 
til be always emptying flell. 

•■ We arc learning always to save by love ; how to re- 
deem by sacrifice. We must make saorifices, otherwise 
there is no salvation. What else is the secret of Christ ? " 

" But, Robert," said Adelaide, " did it not seem all very 
strange to you, very different from what you had expected .'" 

And the hand went on writing, "Yes, it was dif- 
ferent. I was not prepared for such oneness in the 
hfc on both sides. 

•' When (he soul leaves tne body it remains exactly the 
same as when it was in the body ; the soul which is the 
only rral self, and which uses the mind and the body as 
■IS instnimcnts, no longer has the use or the need of the 
/ody. But it retains the mind, the knowledge, the ex- 
[icriencc. the hatils of thought, the inclinations; they 
remain exactly a* they were. Only it often happens that 
the gradual decay of the (leslily envelope to some extent 
obscures and impairs the real self which is hberaled by 
death. The moit extraordinary thing which came to my 
knowledge ivhcn 1 passed over was the difference between 
the apparent man and the real self. It gave quite a new 
meaning to the warning, 'Judge not,' for the real self is 
buiU upe\'en more by the use it makes of the mind than 
by the use it mak<s of (he body. There are here men who 
seemed to be \-ile and fihhy to their fellows, who are tsr, 
far, superior, even in purity and hoUness, to men who 
in lil',; kept an outward venetr of apparent goodness 
tvhile the mitid tiottd in all wantonness. It is the 
mind that rcakes character. It is the mind that is 
far more activi, more potent than (he Ijody, which is 
but a poor inslrument at best. Hence the thoughts and 
intents of the heart, the imaginations of the mind, 
these are the things by which we are judged ; for it is they 
ivhieh make up and create as it were the retl character of 
the iiinfr self, whi.h becomes visible after the leaving of 
the body. Thought has much greater reality than you 
imagine. The day-dreamer is not so idle as you imagine, 
T!ie influence of his idealising speculation may not make 
him worlr, but it tnay be felt imperceptibly by more prac- 
tical miuds. And so. in like manner, the man who in his 
innermost heart giws himsi^lf up to evil and unclean 
tlioughts may be generating fon^es, the cnl influenees of 
which stir the passions and ruin the lives it may Ix' of his 
own children, who jjossibly never knew that their father 
had ever had a thought of sin. 

'■ Hence on this side things seem so topsy-tun^'. The 
first : re last, the last fiTst, I see convicts and murderers 
and adulterers, who wo-ked their wickedness out in the 
material ipbare, itandit .; far higher in the scale of purity 
§iB4 o' bnlinrM thsn who never mmmilted a rrime. 

but whose minds, as it were, were the factory and breed- 
ing-ground of thoughts which are the seed of crimes in 
others, 1 do not mean by this that it is better to do 
crimes than to think them. Only that the doing is not 
always to be taken as proof of wieked-heartednt ss. The 
sins of impulse, the crimes perpttrated in a gust of 
passion, these harm the soul less and do less harm than 
the long-indulgt'^ thoughts of evil which come at last to 
poisan the whole soul. 

" When the body is cast off the real state of the case is 
visible. Then it i* for the first time that we are seen as 
we really are or rather have been thinking. The revelation 
is startling, and even now 1 am but dimly beginning to be 
accustomed to it. 

"Then there is another thing that surprised me not a 
little, and that was or is the discovery of the nothingness 
of things. I mean by that the entire nothingness of most 
things which seemed to one on earth the most im|X)rtantol 
things. For instance, money, rank, worth, merit, station, 
and all the things we most prize when on earth, are simply 
nothing. They don't exist .iny more than the mist of 
yesterday or tlie weather of last year. They ^cre no 
doubt inllueiitial for a time, but they do not last, ihey pass 
as the cloud p,isse8, and are not visible any mor','." 

The two friends remained for some time silent. Th< n 
Adelaide said,— 

" Good-bye, Robert. I feel you are always i.ith me.' 

And the hand wrote : " Good-bye ; I am. Robert Julia.'' 

Nejct morning Mrs. Julia wns detained at ^lome by a 
severe cold. Rose, after waiting for her for s>me time, 
resumed her seat at the table, and asked Robert if he was 
present and wished to write. 

The hand did not write at once. After a few moments 
it wrote : " I am here : Robert Julia, My wile i^ unwell. 
I have just left her. She cannot come tcwlay," 

Rose said, " Do you wish to write now?" 

The hand wrote : " I do ; I want to ask you if you ran 
help me at all in a matter in wliich 1 am much interested '/ 
[ have long wanted to establish a place where those who 
have pa?5sed over could communicate with the loved 
ones behind. At present the world is full of spirits 
longing to speak to those from whom they have been 
p.irted, just as 1 longed to speak to you. hut without findiiij; 
a hand to enable them to wtiie. It is a strange spectacle. 
On yonr side, souls full el" anguish for bereavement; o:i 
this side, souls ftdl of sadness because they cannot com- 
municate with those whom they love. What can be don( 
to bring these sombre, sorrow-laden persons together ? Tt 
do so retjuires something which we cannot supply, Yfiu 
must help. But how ? It is not impossible. And when 
it is done death will have lost its sting and the grave its 
victory. The apostle thought this was done. But the 
grave has not been so easily defeated, and death keeps 
his sting. Who can console us for the loss of our beloved ';■ 
Only these who ran show us they are not lost, but arc 
with us more than ever. Do you not think I have been mucli 
more with Adelaide since 1 put off my flesh than I used 
to lie V Why. 1 dwell with her in a way that before was 
quite impossible, I was never more with her than I have 
been since I came to this side. But she would not have 
known it, not would you have heard from me at all but 
for the accident of your meeting. 

"What is wanted is a bureau of communication beh\-eet' 
the two sides. Could yon not establish some such sort ol 
office with a trustworthy medium or mediums? If onl) 
it were to enable the sorrowing on the earth to know, if 
only for once, that their so-called dead live nearer th^m 
than ever before, it would help to dry many s tear and 
soothe many a sorrow. I think you could count upon the 
cag'r •■*> o;ieratinii of all nn thi.« side.. 


From the OxHiiR Side. 


" We on tliis side are full of jay at the hope of this coming 
to pass. Imagine how j;^^^^! we must be to see so many 
whom wc love, sorrowing withont hope, when those for 
whom they surrow are trying every means in vain to make 
them ronscions of their presence. AikI many also are 
Tarketl with agony, imagining that tlieir loved ones are lost 
in hell, when in reality they have been foniid in the all- 
embracing aims of the love of God. AdelaiJe dear, do 
talk nl this with Mincn'a, anil see what ran ))C done. It 
is the most important thing there is to do. For it brings 
iWilh it the trnmp of the AnhanRel, when those that were 
in their graves shall awake and walk forth once more 
amoni; men. 

" I was at first astonished to learn how much importance 
llie spirits attacli to the commnnicalioas which they are 
alioived to have with those on earth, I can, of course, 
easily imderstand. because I feel it myself —the craving 
there t« to spejik to those whom yon loved and whom you 
love ; hut it is much more than this. What they tell me on 
ait sides, and especially my dear guides, is that the time ia 
conn; when there is to be a great spiritual awakening 
among the nations, and that the ageniry which is to bring 
tliis about is tlie sudden and conclusive demonstration, in 
ev< ry indiiidual case which seeks for it of the reality, of the 
spirit, of the permanence of the soul, and the immanence 
of the I) I vine,'' 

Rose .said, " But how can I help?" 

The hand wrote. "You are a good writing medium. If 
you would all'iw your hand to be used by the spirit of any 
on this side whose relatives cr friends wished to hearfrjm 
tlieiu, jou could depend almost confidently Ujion the spirit 
usinii; your hantL At any rate, 1 could always explain why 
they could not use your hand." 

Tliat afternoon the Rev, Solomon Stybarrow raadc a 
pastoral call upan the lnuisfholti. Rose was intensely 
interested in t!ie discovery of her automatic gift, and ven- 
tured to consnlt him on the subject He started as if he 
h:]d been stung. " Miss Thorne." said he, " have notliing 
l'> do with any !;tieh spirits. Sfiiritualism is nine parl-s 
fraud and one part the devil. Cursed he lie who has 
dealings with a familiar spirit. If any spirits profess to 
control your hand they lie. If they are lost souls they 
would not be allowed out of hell. If they are saved, 
they are too happy in heaven to come down here to jump 
tables or to use your hand. What good thing have these 
l^pirits ever written since apiritualiim began '■' Avoid it as 
'fin im|)03turie baaed on credulity and cursed by the Bible 
and the Church." 

Rose was startled by his vehemence, but she said, " Are 
wc not told to try the spirits, and how can we try them if 
we do not listen to them ? " 

The Rev. Solomon Stybarrow hardly deigned a reply, 
but departed in high dudgeon. 

When he hiid .gone. Rose sat down to her paper, and 
asked Rolx^rt Julia if he \^■ished to\vrite. He began aa 
usual, and then went on :— 

"You must not heed that mmister. When 1 was on 
your side I tielieved as he does. Bui I now know that 
those who have only Uveci on one side cannot possibly 
!:now as much as those ivho are actually on tSiis &ide and 
'cAvc already lived on yours." 

Then Rose said, ■■ Had you not better take my hand and 
write and teil Adelaide about your side ■:* What is it, for in- 
stance, which makes heaven so much better than earth ? " 

The hand wrote : 

'• There are degrees in heaven. And the lowest heaven 
is higher than the most wonderful vision of its bliss that 
you ever had. There is nothing to which you can com- 
pare our constantly loving state in this world except the 
■upreme ticatitude of the lover who is perfectly salis;ied 

with and perfectly enraptured uith tli ; one whom he loves. 
For the whole difference between thi ( side and your side 
consists in this— without entering m w into the question 
uf body and matter — that we live inwove, which is God, 
aiul you too often live in the misi-ry which is the natural, 
necessary result of the abs;'nce of God, who is love. 

" There is much love on earth. Were it not so it would 
be hell. There is the love of the mother for her children, 
of brother and sister, of young man and maiden, of lius- 
band and wife, of friends, whether men or women, or 
whether the friemfship is between tliosc of the same sex. 
All these forms of love are the rays of heaven in earth. 
They are none of them cumpletc. They are the sparkling 
light Irom the diamond facets, the totality of which is God. 
The meanest man or woman who loves is, so far as they 
love, inspired by the Divine. The whole secret of the 
saving of the world lies in that— you must have more love 
— more love —more love. 

'• You may say that there is love which is selfish and a 
loi-e which is evil. It is true, but that is l>ecause the love 
is imperfect. It is not love when it leads to sclhsluiess. 
riic love which leads a mother to engross herself with 
her oivn children and neglect all her duties to other p-ople is 
not wrong itself. It is only tecause she has not enough 
love for others that her love for her children makes her 
selfisli. The great need wherever love seems to make 
people selfish is not less love to those whom they do love, 
but more lovi? for the others who are neglected. You 
never love anyone too much. It is only ttiat ^ve don't 
love others enough also. Perfect Ioit all round is the 
Divine ideal, and when love fails at any point, then evil 
is in danger of coming in. But even a guilty love, so far 
as it tak?s you out of yourjelf. and makes you toil, and 
pray, and live, and perhaps die for the man or woman 
whom you should never have loved, brings you nearer 
heaven than selish, loveless marriage. I do not sly 
this as against marriage. I know this is dangerous doc- 
trine. All true doctrine is dangerous. But it is not less 
true for its danger. There is no doubt that much nr}- 
called love is very s?lfish, and is not hive at all. The 
love, for instance, which leads a man to ruin a woman, 
and desert her when he has gratified a temporary passion, 
is not love. It i-s not easy to distinguish it from the dead- 
liest hate. It is self-indulgence in its worst shape. Now 
all love is of the nature of self-sacrifice. 'There are 
many things also to be borne in mind. We have all 
not merely to think what is the result to oursi-lves, but 
also to other pirsons, some of whom may not yet be 
bom. To love, therefore, anyone really, truly, means 
that we are putting ourselves in his, lnving him 
as ourselves, that we desire for him the Ijcst, and give up 
ourselves and our own pleasure in order to secure it for 
him. This is true love, and wherever you find it you find 
a S]Tark of God. That is why mothers are so much nearer 
God than anyone else. They love more —that is, they .ire 
more hke God ; it is they who keep the earth from becom- 
ing a vast hell, 

''Nojv, my darling, hold fast to this central doctrine; 
Love is God, God is love. The more you love, the more 
you are lifo- God. It is only when we derply, truly love, 
we find our true selves, or that we see the Divine in the 
person loved. O Addie, Addie t if I could come back 
and speak in the ears of the children of men, I think I 
should wish to say nothing but this— love ; love is the ful- 
filling of the law, love is the seeing of the face of God. 
Love is God, God is love. If you >vish to be with God — 
love. If you wish to be in heaven^love, For heaven 
differs chiefly from earth and from hell in that in hiMvcn 
all love up to the fidl measure of their Iwing, and all growth 
ia grace is jjro.vtii in love. Love 1 love! love I Thai is 



1 20 

From the Old World to the New. 

the first word and the last word. There is "on^ 
beside thiit, for God, who ii love, is ail 111 all, tlie Alpha 
and the Oiiiega, tlic first and the last, world without end. 
Oh, my darling .Vldis, this is indeed a true wort.1. It ij 
thf word n-hich the world needs, it is the word which be- 
came flesh and divelt amongst men— Love, love, love ! " 

Mrs Julia arrived in the morning, in radiant spirits. 

'■ Well ■■■ " said Rose. 

And Adelaide replied : ■'O Rose 1 I feel as if already 
there w&i no more death, and as if the kingdom of Heaven 
ii really about to be established in the earth.'* 

Chapter XX.— Asm Hatha way's Cottage, Chicago. 
The last days of Dr. Wynne's stay in Chicago ivere 
drawing to a close. The party which had crossed the 
AtUntic in the Majestic was scattered fir and wide. Mrs. 
Wills and her three children had met Mr. Wills in Saa 
Francisco. Irene and the professor were to be married 
in the Temple, by special permission from the President 
of the Latter Day Saints, and they were spending the 
time before their marriage in the Grand Canon of the 

" Honeymoons after marriage," said Irene, " were quite 
too conventional. The professor and she were taking 
their honeymoon before the ceremony. It sounds awful, 
but it is (inite correct, although the situation is full of ex- 
citing incidents. The professor is not a very good hand at 
love. making anyhow, but, as 1 tell him, it is a iiew experi- 
ence wiii;h he should make the most of. We are travel- 
ling with same sai'ans, and they get so wann a.bout 
protoplasm and other horrors that the professor sometimes 
quite forgets that he is engaged.'' 

Compton liad married Mrs. Irwin, and they were spending 
their honeymoon quite in the orthodox fashion in the 
Yellowstone Valley, that great mussum of nature of which 
the Repubhe is tlie vigilant enslodiaii. 

Mrs, Julia iiad gone back to N.;w York, full of a peace 
and content ie» which she had been a stranger since her 
husband's death. Mr. Thome was putting the last touches 
to the special job on \vhich he had been engaged, and 
which was the erection of a correct model of Ann 
Hathaway's Cottage, and when this was finished he 
intended to teturn to England with his daughter. 

Rose had almost recovered. She hid been several 
times in the Eiahibition, but she was alone, the multitude 
of strange faces weighed upon her spirits, and after a 
while she loit heart. It was vain to seek htm among 
so many myriads. Repeatedly she thought she had recog- 
nised the Will -known figure, only to find, on overtaking it, 
that the features were not tliose of him whom sJie sought. 
On one occasion she made certain that she saw !iim. It 
was Ins figure, his hat, his moustache, his very walk. 
Her knees trembled as she leaned against a recess in the 
wall waiting for him to pajs, Anotlier moment and 
he would be so near she could graip his hand. 

Nearer still, and nearer came the footstejis. I ler heart 
beat hard, she raised her head. He rounded the corner 
and lo ! it \vi\s not he. but a Spaniard, whose features 
were as unlike Walters , is liii tigure was identical with 
his. After that cruel disappointment, she seldom went 
into the World's Fair, and never errept wlieii her father 
accompanied her. 

As for the doctor, he had literally lived in the World's 
Fair. He knew every incli of the whole park. He was 
there the first thing in the morning, he was almost the last 
to leave at night. He wandered about everywhere alone, 
with hungry eyes, hawking for any one whose hair, figure, 
and genera) appearance might reveal his Rose. A hundred 
times did he espy some one who seemed to resemble her, 
A hundred times he was disappointed. 4Jut still he re- 
neived the search with unwearied zeal. There were cer- 
tain favourite spots where lie thought she might possibly 
be attracted One was the Woman's Building, where the 
librarian, divining the secrat cause of his unrest, kept 
a vigilant and sympathetic eye for every visitor who might 
chance to be Rose Thome. And there was Shakespeare's 
House, the facsimile of which was established in the 
ground as the Pavilion of the lUushaUd iMndun Neus, 
But no one had ever seen her there. A third place where 
he loved to Iniger was at Messrs. Hampton's exhibit in 
the Manufactures and Liberal Arts. It was a reproduction 
in facsimile of the famous dining-room of the Cecils at 
Hatfield, where every night, at dinner hour, the sweet old 
Knglish ballads were sung by minstrels in the singinggalleiy. 
H ; thought the music of the old songs, v,'hich she used to 
iove so well, would attract her, but night after night he 
watched in vain for a glimpse of the familiar face. He 
spoke little, and took but small notice of exhibits since the 
children had left. But the great Worlds Fair grew upon him 
day by day, although he noticed it^ details but little, until 
it became not so much tlie World's Fair, but the world 
itself— a sunless world for him imtU Rose was found, 
but Still a world. 

The mere gazing into the faces of so many hun- 
dreds of thousands of human beings, gathered together 
from all the nations of the earth produced iti effect. 
At first it made his sense of loneliness and isolation 
almost unbearable. But after a while that feeling 
gave way lo a sense of human brotherhood, of a solidarity 
real as life felt with men of all kindreds and peoples and 
tongues. There were none of all the myriad hosts 
gathered together at Chicago but had some time 01 other 
loved, and by some one had been loved. They did not 
know his secret, nor he theirs in its details. But it was 
an open secret in the general. They all had loved, and 
had bien loved, and the freemasonry of love seemed a 
UMng link which united them all to each other. 

Nor was it only the visitors who impressed him. If Ihey 
were representatives of humanity in its totality as a liv- 
ing, laving, sorrowing, rejoicing entity, the JCxhibition 
itself was a microcosm of the world and all tlie things 

• The narrative in this chapter is not a story, it is a fart. Thit is to siy, th^ connnuoications profj^iainT to be written by the disembodied 
apirit of Robert Julia, were actually written autoi'mtically umler similar circumatandeiw [ho*- dejiribjd in these pajfcs by the hantJofa wrtler, 
who was unaware of what his Don wis writinu. ar,<J who dii not kniw th- persons corroctty nimsd, orlhs circumstances accurately rcterrca to 
by the intelligence which {^utijed his pen. Nam?s and places of co:ii*!»e aa\'e bien alt^±rcd, und whereaa in the story tht^ commtinicatioiis are 
repre*>entcd as having been written by the spirit nf a man throiti^h Ih^ hand ofa wotnan, they were in raality written by the hand of a man unotr 
the alleged cotitrol ofa w.>cnan. Whatever e]rp!anition miy be oir.;ri2d, I am prepared to vouch abioliitely for the truth of the following 
it) That the commitnications were written bvthe p;n of one w!ao3e ffooJ faith c.\nnot be irnpijn^d, and who was quite unaware of what 
Itis hand waa about to w^it*^ when be took up his pen. 

<^> That the communications bej;.in an'l are co itinued to this hour, under ctrcumstances practically identical with those in the stor^. 
(3> That the intelii^en^e which coilrols the hinri of the writer, whose own conaciouaness is never for a moment in abeyance, always 
alleys that it is the discmt>odicd spirit ofa woman with whom the writer had a slight personil acquaintance who " died ' about twelve months 

U) That the intelltt^ence frequently refers to nimea, places, and incidents, in the past and present of which the person whose hand holds 
the pen has no Itnowied^e. 

Au this is true. In token whereof I am Willi n; to submit all the evidence, and the chief wttnenei to the examination of the Psychical 
Research Society. I Lnow of my own knowledge that the facts are as stated. — £U>. 

Ann Hathaway's Cottage, Chicago. 


that were thereiD. Gradually there impressed itself 
deep in Wynne's heart and memory an imperishable 
seiiae of tliat immense conglomerate of human 
ingenuity and human skill. Between the rude cave- 
dwellers, who lurked in holes in the rocks as if they 
were hipcd rabbits in stony burrovvs, and the men wlio 
designed and executed thai immense sampling case of the 
world's prochicts, how immense was the distance traversed I 
What countless generations of men and women had toiled, 
and struggled, and fought and died before these remote 
progenitors of ours could develop the race that built the 
World's Fair, and bottled up the accents of the human 
voice in Edison's phonograph ! In contemplating that 
measureless expanse of unrecorded lime, across which 
these endless myriads of humans plodded their foot-weaiy 
way, measuring each day's march as it were by the grave- 
mounds of a generation, he acquired a sense of the 
iniinite insignihcance of the individual, the marvellous 
potentialities that lie latent in the race, fie looked at the 
Exhibition, teeming willi innumerable specimens of human 
activity, and remembered that there was not a machine, 
not an exhibit, that was not the slowly elaborated growth 
of an infinitude of tentative experiments, every one of 
which by its very imperfection drove mankind by pain and 
suffering and weariness to discover something better. 

The sense of the solidarity of mankind, past, present, 
and to come, begun by the sight of the visitors, grew upon 
him as the more striking details of the Great Show merged 
into one vast whole Ilow many had laboured before we 
could enjiiy ! With what a new sense of significance did 
he realise how vast and multifarious are the activities that 
make up the life of the race to which lias been committed 
the peopling, the cultivation, and the government of the 
world. On the whole perhaps, th.nt was the thought that 
most enriched his mind. Here, it is true, there were 
but samples of the world's labour. But the samples sug- 
gested something of the immensity of the day's work that 
goes on without ceasing from the rising tn tlie^ setting of 
tha sun. If the old monk's saying ha a truth, and to labour 
is to pray, then, what a manifold and unceasing prayet en- 
circles the world ! That service ceases not, from the 
cradle to the tomb, filling the whole round eaith with the 
murmur of prayer^prayer not unanswered, as this Exhil 1- 
tion showed. 

It was his hst day at the World's Fair. His long quest 
had been in vain. Trace of Rose he found none. He 
abandoned himself on the last day to the full bitterness 
of his disappointment. All around, the Fair was full of 
visitors eager, joyous, intensely interested in all the won- 
deis they had come to sec. The music of the bands 
throbbed in the air, hut no answering chord resounded in 
his breast. He felt as if he were a broken man, as if 
henceforth for him stretched an endless vista of chilly 
November days, dark with fog and chill ivitli frost, but 
with neither sun in the heavens nor blue in the sky. 
« « « # « 

The work of putting up a reproduction of Ann Hatha- 
way's Cottage in Jackson Park, in which Mr. Thorne had 
l;een engaged since the show opened, was completed. 
The scaffolding and hoarding which had concealed the ex- 
hibit from the public eye were removed. Visitors for the 
first lime were allowed to enter Ihe tJira old English gar- 
den and sec the house in which the greatest of all Eng- 
lish-speaking men first dreamed the sweet fond dream of 
love. Rose had often asked her father to let her see it, 
but he, tike a prudent workman, refused until it was 
ready for inspECtion, At last, however, the time had come 
when she was to come and see with what success the 
rustic scene of that Wan.uckshire idyll had been repro- 
duced on the shores of Lake Michigan. 

It was a Festival of Choirs st the Exhibition, and 
Thorne did not take his daughter down to the 
Hathaway Cottage lill the sun had set and the throng had 
deserted the rest of the show in order to concentrate on 
the lake shore, where llie aquatic fete was taking place. 
Rose trembled a little when her father lilted the latchet of 
the garden gate, and led her witli some pardonable 
degree of triumph into the cottage. The reproduction was 
very exact. But for the warm suUry air, the great expanse 
of lake, and the strange and varied scene presented by 
the Exhibition, all blazing with electric light, she could 
have imagined herself once more a girl at home in the 
happy days when she played the May Queen, and the 
still happier months that followed. 

" It is very beautiful, father,' she said, " and very true. 
I could almost imagine it was the dear old place trans- 
ported iroin Shottery by magic." 

" I'm glad you like it, my lassl " said Thorne, looking 
with honest complacency upon the work of his hands. 
" It's taken some time putting it up ; and we're rather late. 
But better late than never ; and no one can say it s a 
scamped job." 

They went into the cottage. Rose examined it closely, 
room after room. Everything seemed to be as she knevv 
it of old. Each room, almost every article of furniture, 
ssemed to revive some fresh memorj', some old associa- 
tion of the days when she lived in her own life the life of 
all Shakespeare's heroines in turn. 

" Now," said her father, " will you come with me and 
see the end of the fete near the pier. I'd like a last look 
at the Show before starting home." 

Rose stood on the doorstep and looked out. The 
distant strains of the band came sighing up the lake. The 
dull boom of a maroon, followed by a sliower of brilliant 
stars, marked where the ffite was in progress. She shook 
her head. " You go, father, and come back for me when 
it is all over. It is a beautiful moonlight night. 1 would 
much rather stay quietly in the cottage. I don't fire- 
works and crowds. Do go, father. I shall be quite happy 
here till you return." 

Mr. Thorne somewhat reluctantly consented. 
" I shan't be long," he said, as he hasped the wicket- 
gate, and strode off towards the pier. 

Rose sat down lu the front room of the cottage. The 
moonhght streamed through the lalliced window upon the 
table. She buried her lace in her hands and thought. 
Seven years had passed since she last had seen Ann 
Hathaway's collage. How vividly it all came back to her. 
With what high hopes she had set out for London town I 
How bitterly she had been disappohited I And he, too, 
whom she had sought to win worthily had been lost, lost 
for ever. 

Meanwhile Walter Wynne, wandering on 'us last solitary 
round, came upon the cottage with a feeling of surprise. 
It lay somewhat out of the regular line of buildings, and 
as it had been manifestly unRmshed, he had not even 
troubled to inquire as to what it represented. Even now 
he would not have stepped on one side were it not for an 
ill-defmed association of ideas connected with the thatched 
roof, which led him to look more closely. When he 
reached the garden-gate, he recognised the place in a 

"Ann Hatha\vay's cottage here!" he said to himself. 
" I wonder why I never heard anything of this before ? 
There is no one about ; I suppose I may look round." 

He unlatched the gate and entered the little garden. 
Rose heard the gate open, and, rousing herself with an 
effort, got up and went to the door to meet her lather. 
She was in the shade. The moon shone lull upon the 
path which the visitor must cross, but she saw with some 




-■T own ■«««• if^e 1x5V 

'.UBS A3(s arxxwo^ 


Ann Hath away 's Cottage, Chicago. 


aUrm it wns not licr rather. Hulf-frigiitcncd, she lliought of 
locking herself in the house, wlien the iiew-eomer stopped, 
and Ktoopcd to pluck a rosebud from n bush. Then the 
steps came nearer and nearer, and Walter Wynne-, with a 
white rosiebud in his hand, stepped out into the moou- 
l>eanls, and she saw him and knew litm, and in n nioruent 
shi' sprang from (he door-step, ran tiown the ]iath, and nung 
herself nprin his neck, crying - 

" Oh, Walter, Walter, at last ! at last ! " 

"Antl we shall never, never pnrt again ?" 

" Never! " he said, " never while life and love endure I " 

And then lie kissed her. 

And as they sttiiHl together, enfolded one \iith the i Ihcr, 
locked in close einbiaee, silent with emotion too intense 
for speech, there came finating over the waters of the lake 
the voices of one of the choirs singing, as the Itoat 
rowed home from the l'"air. It was lier favoiuite hymn, 
that which lie had heard at Orehardcrofi on Christmas 





And he, da?cd somewhat by the sudden excess of joy, 
clasped her in his arms, and mumnired — 

" My own Kose! " 

For'some lime they stood there, neither speaking, she 
throbbing convulsively, and clinging as if she feared he 
would leave her again. 1 hen lie gently raised her face 
to his. 

In the moonlight he could sec she had bceu weeping, 
that even now her eyes were tjuivering «ith tears. Then 
she said, ii;df to herself, as in a tr.mce of ecstasy— 

Eve. Nearer tiie roivers came, atd now, clear and sweet, 
llicy heard the words of their song, and to Walter and 
koae it was as if [loetry and music had united to give 
utterance to their inmost thoughts :— 

*' So long Thy power hath ble^t me, fturc il bttll 

Will l.-ad me on. 
O'er moor and fen, o'er crag and torrent, till 

The night be gone, 
And with the morn those angel-faeea smile 
Which I liave loved long since and lost awhile." 

The ENa 

a ■ tWTTT 


All about HOW TO GET TO 


Valuable Hints from an 

Eic perienced Traveller. 


E are in New York, bound for the WORLD'S FAIR. How sha I we proceed ? It .s 

r province to explain. We will take the New York Central Route, of course- 

Tlf of us desiring to see the Hudson River and Niagara Falls nccessanly do sc^ 

and, indeed, every consideration of expediency tends to confirm our choice. 

Owing to its great natural advantages, the New York Central occupies a unique position among 

..eric° RLa/ ^ ^^'^^ -^r^::^^^ ^n:i:r !^;e"L^ 





of the city. The remarkably central location of 

"^ this great metropolitan terminus of the Vander- 

bilt Lines renders it accessible within from three 

fj) to twenty minutes from sixty-six of the great 

; hotels of America ; it is also the centre from 

' which lines of horse-cars ind elevated railroads 

radiate. It is not only in exactly the ideal spot 

for a railroad station in New York City, but it is 

> also the only station on Manhattan Island. 

.'■' Comfortably ensconced in the palatial coach 
from which we need not emerge until our desti- 
nation is reached, we have nothing to do but enjoy 


"The mMt be«atiful (igtal 1 ever witnMMd wm ilont the Moh«wk Vallej."— Rev. T. Dl Witt T*l«a&». 

to the fullest extent our luxurious surroundings 
—and right here let me say that no trip in the 
world, of equal length, offers such a variety of 
beautiful scenery, such indications of wealth and 
prosperity, such comfort and luxury for the 
traveller, as the ride between New York and 
Chicago by the New York Central and its con- 
nections. For one hundred and forty-two miles 
our course skirts the east shore of the historc 
Hudson, unfolding a wonderful panorama of grnnd 
and varied scenery. . The threatening battlements 
of the Palisades rise in bold relief against the sky 
on the further bank of the noble river, soon giving 

THE HUDbuN Kt\ . ,. 



i HS 



place to the lofty eminences of the Hudson Highlands and the towering peaks of the Ciitskill 
Mountains. ''Past fieU and wood, past hill and dale, teeming with memories of Ahoriginal, Colonial, 
and Revolutionary days, the train is swiftly whirled. Crossing the Hudson River at Albany we 

traverse the charmed region of 
the Mohawk Valley and the rich 
agricultural district of Westtrn 
New York. Approaching Niagara 
its roar can be heard under favor- 
able circumstances a distance of 
fifteen miles, and soon the train 
pauses upon the very brink of the 
mighty cataract. We realise in 
an instant the sentiment under 
which Anthony TroUope wrote : 
" Of all the sight;, on this earth 
of ours which tourists travel to 
sec, I am inclined to give the palm 
to Niagara. In the catalogue of 
such sights I intend to include all 
buildings, pictures, statues, and 
wonders of art made by men's 
- hnnds, and also all bcauiiea of 
nature prepared by the Creator 
for the delight of His creatures. 
This is a long word, but as far as 
my taste and judgment go, it is 
justified. I know of no othtr 
one thing so beautiful, so glorious, 
and so powerful." - 

AiTangements have been per- 
fected permitting passE ngers hold- 
ing first class limited titktls, 
reading via the New York Central 
and Hudson Railroad, during the 
continuance of the World's Fair, 
to stop over at Niagara Falls fur a 
period not exceeding ten' days, 
affording travellers ample oppor- 
tunity to see the World's Greatest 
Cataract, without incurring ad- 
ditional expense for railroad fare. 
A word about train service. It 
is whispered that next year the 
New York Central will probably 





have a train every hour for Chicago. However this may be, of one thing rest assured, its facilities 
will be ample to meet whatever demands may arise. 

We present below an illustration of the Empire State Express, which has so long held, the 
world's record for fast time. This is only one of the five great " Limited " trains of the New York 
Central, representing in equipment, speed, and attendance the highest development of the modern art 
of transportation. Though these trains form but a small part of the New York Central Service, they 
are fair examples of the standard to which all the others conform. A writer in Hcmpath's London, 
England, Railway and Commercial Journal, of February 6th, 1892, in an article on American 
Railroads, after commenting at considerable length on the comparative merits of various American 
Lines, closes with this remarkable sentence: "The New York Central is no doubt the best line in 
America, and a very excellent line it is — equal, probably, to the best English line." That this will be 
your verdict there is no possibility of doubt. Its trains are equipped with all the modern safety 
appliances, its cars are heated by steam from the engine, and lighted by the Pintsch system of com- 
pressed gas ; a large portion of the passenger equipmjnt having been recently built, it is far 
superior to that formerly in use on American lines. The New York Central, with its connections, 
forms the most direct route across the Continent, through Chicago, St. Louis, or Cincinnati to San 
Francisco on the Pacific Ocean, and is a very important link in the great international highway around 
the world. 

At Buffalo connections are made with the Michigan Central Railroad and the Lake Shores and 
Michigan Southern Railway, by either of which lines passengers can continue their journey in through 
cars to Chicago— the city of the World's Fair. 

The time consumed in the ride from New York to Chicago is from twenty-four to twenty- 
seven hours. 


or THE 



(/•wm B Phitoi^afih h A P. YaUs, Syracnit, N.Y. Tatt» w/>m ih* tram wot r»nm»g 6o mil.i an honr.) 






Niag^ara Falls 

/^jS^'-^ \ nins Through-Trains and Palace, 

Sleeping, Buffet and Dining Cars 

through to Chicago on fast time, from New York and Boston, in 

connection with the New York Central and Hudsoo River and Boston 

and Albany Railroads. 

'T^HF. MICHIGAN CEXTRAI^ which his woa its popular title of "The Niagara Falls Route" from the fact that it ii the 
LL, only railiovid running dirpctly by «nd in full view of the Falls, stops Its trains at Falls View SUtion, directly above the 
^^ brink of the Horscsliot- Fall, from which point all parts of the Falls, the green islands in the river, the raginR tajiids above 
ar.d the boiliiTg chasm below, «re in full view. No more comprehensive view of the great Cataract is to be had from any one 
point, yet the liaveller who possesses any love for, or appreciation of, the beauties of nature, should be by no means content with 
the sir. file view. 

Niapara olTcrs a thousand scenes of marvellous beauty, of unceasing variety and unequalled picluresqueness, that one should 
sec under the varjinj; conditions of sunlight and shadow, calm and stomi.and undcrlhe silvery moon!ight Every mile of Niagara 
River, from IjikeEriclo l^ke Ontario, especially from the Rapids al>ove the Falls to the Whirlpool and the Escarpment al 
I ewislon and Queenston, is filled with interesting and charming scenes. The longer the traveller lingers, the oftciier be sees Ihe 
(Ittforent points of interest, and the more varying the conditions under which tliey are seen, the greater will be his apprecialioo of 
this great natural wonder. 

The ho}c! accommodations at Niagara aie ample, excellent in quality, and reasonable in price, while the terrible hackman, so 
long the butt of innumerable jokes, will be found, upon close acquaintance to be very lame and inoffensive^ The banks of the 
river upon cither side of the Falls have been reserved by the Canadian and New York State Governmenta as public parks, frc« 
to all, so that the expense of a ViSit to Niagara has been stiorr of exorbitant charges. 

A visit to the Cave of the Winds, with guide 
and dress, cosis ■ dollar, and the similar trip 
under the Horse: hoe Falls, on the Canada side, 
fifty cents; Ihe round i rip on the inclined railway 
costs ten cents, and upon the Maid of tht Mis}, 
fifty cents. The admission fee to the Whirlpool 
Rapids, and to the Whirlpool from either side, 
costs fifty cents. The toll over the new Suspension 
Foot and Carriage Bridge is twenty-five cents, 
ind the same amount extra for each vehicle. 
The hack fares at Niagara Falls arc regulated by 
law and are very reasonable, while vans make the 
tour of the entire State Reservation, with the 
privilege of stopping off at any point of Interest, 
for twenty-five cents, 

BIRD'S-ITK view op ^■1.^GARA Rrvifti 

Illustrated printed matter, descriptive of Niagara Falls and the route of the famous NORTH 
SHORE, LIMITED, of the MICHIGAN CENTRAL, will be sent to any address in Great Britain 
or on the Continent upon application to — 


General Passenger and TTciet A^nt, 




/fl\CCUPlES in Chicago a depot at the foot of 
^•^ Lake Street, soon to be replaced by a new 
structure, in some degree worthy of the BUfjerb 
location. It is but a few minutes' walk from all 
the principal Hotels, and easily reached by cable 
cars. The transfer to the depots of western 
lines in the city is easily and speedily made by 
omnibuses and carnages. 

No other eastern line has so eligible a location 
or route into the city. For miles the smooth steel 
tracks follow the lake front, with beauti ful and 
varied views of Lake Michigan on the left, and 
on the right the green turf and bright flowers of 
extensive parks and the parterres of the most 
elegant residence portion of the city and its 
southern suburbs. Fronting the Lake Front Park 
on Michigan Avenue are seen the beautiful Art 
Institute, the imposing granite pile of the Audi- 
torium, and oihermagnificentbuildings. In this 
park is now being constructed a stately Art 
Palace, which will be unsurpassed by any similar 
structure in this country. 

As the Michigan Central approaches the shore 
line, it encloses between it and the lake the 
splendid group of colossal structures erected 
for the World's Columbian Exposition. The 
Woman's Building is nearest to the elevated track 
cf the railroad, with Horticultural Hall and 
the Transportation Building to the right, while 
a little farther off rises the stately dome of the 
Administration Building. No other eastern line 
runs directly by or to it as does the Michigan 
Central whose passengers alone enjoy the pas- 
sing view, as they do also that of Niagara Falls, 
the great cataract of the world. 

All of the Michigan Central's fast through 
trains are, therefore, "World's Fair Specials" 
and "Columbian Exposition Expresses," and all 
run over " The Niagara Falls Route " between 
Buffalo and Chicago. 




General SuperirUeudenf, 

General Passenger and Ticket Agent, 




T'HIS great ntttonal higfiway is so well known, not only throughout the United States, but all over the world, that a 1 

I reference to tt would seem suflicieiit, yet for the benefit of those who have ne%-er had the pleasure of riding over its smooth 
tMck, and thus liad an opportunity of gazing upon the fine scenery along its route, the following description is given :— 

It formed a part of the first transcontinental line of railroad from ocean to ocean, and ^vas conceived, and its construction 
authorized, as a war measure, the needs of the Government during the war of the Rebellion having clearly shown the necessity 
for it. Many thought the feat of constructing a line of railroad over the Rocky Mountains an utter impossibility. Many of thoie 
Mho had crossed the plains, deserts, and mountains to California in 1849-50, intw very well a railroad could not be built there, 
for " how could a locomotive ascend a mountain where six yoke of oxen could scarcely haul a wagon ? " In the days of 
'49-50, when long trains of gold-seekers, after outfitting at Council Bluffs, wended their way over the plains, the country was 
filled with hostile Indians, herds of buffalo, deer, and antelope. There was scarcely a house west of the Elkhorn River, within 
twenty miles of Omaha. Now the traveller sits in a luxurious Pullman car, and is whirled over the smooth railroad at forty 
inlles an hour. 

This railway is one of the very best on this continent. Its two main stems, the one from Kansas City, the other from 
Council BLurrs, uniting at Cheyenne and diverging again at Granger, one for Portland, and one for San Francisco, are crowded 
with the commerce of the Orient and the Occident, while people from every nation in the world may be seen on its passenger- 
trains. Every improvement which human ingenuity has invented for the safety or comfort of the traveller is in use on the Union 
Pacific System. 

For nearly 500 miles west of Council Bluffs and 700 miles wot of Kansas City ther* are no heavy grades or curvet, crossing 
fbe Missouri river from the Transfer Depot, Council BIofTs, over a magnificent steel bridge, Omaha it reached, and 

The Trtp Across the Continent 

k i 

to either Portland or San Francisco commences. This metropolis of the West has now 143,000 inhabitants. Leaving Omaha, 
the road follows the Platte River through the thickly settled and fertile Platte Valley, and crosses mile after mile of level muntry, 
as impressive to those unfamiliar with such scenes as is the unbounded level of the ocean. At Cheyenne (516 miles from Omaha) 
Kansas main line ml Denver connects with the Nebraska main line from Council Bluffs. Leaving Kansas City, tiia the Kansas 
main line of the Union Pacific System, one passes through some of the finest fanning land of the West The descent is rapid 
into Denver, 639 miles from Kansas City, ivith a population of 116,000. The elevation is 5,170 feet. The dry climate of Colorado 
B said to be unrivalled for all diseases of the lungs, if the patient goes there in time. The trip from Denver to Cheyenne, 
Wyoming, along the foothills of the Rocky Mountains, affords a kaleidoscopic panorama of hills, Gelds, farms, rivers, running 
brooks, and lofty mountains. Here the eastern traveller for the first time sees fields of alfalfa of a deep green colour, grown by 
the use of irrigating ditches, the water for which is brought down from the mountains in large canals and thence distributed by 
means of smaller ditches. After leaving Cheyenne the train climbs a grade 2,000 feet in thirty-three miles to Sherman, 8,147 feet 
above sea-level, and the highest point of the transcontinental ride. 

Across the Continent to Portland, Oregon. 

At Green River the trains fw Portland, Oregon, are made up^ although they do n«l make their departure from the main line 
until Granger is reached, thirty miles west of Green River, and the trip across the continent is continued to the great Northwest. 
The goes along over moderate curves and grades, through pretty little valleys along the Bear River, until the great Territory 
of Idaho is entered at Border Station. Then on through Soda Springs and Pocatellck^the junction with the Utah and Northern 
branch for the Yellcwstone National Park, Butte, Garrison, and Helena ; thence to Shoshone Station, where the junction is made 
for the great Shoshoue Falls via stage, and also for Haitey and Ketchum wV» rail ; from Shoshone Station the road stretches away 
through Nampa, where ttie junction is made with the Idaho Central branch for Boise City. From Nam pa, Idaho, the Oregon 
Short Line skirts along the boundary line of Idaho and Oregon, following the Snake River, until Huntington, just within Oregon, 
is reached, where it starts directly across the State. Huntington is the junction of the Mountain Division with the Pacific 
Division of the Union Pacific System. Just beyond La Grande, in the Grand Ronde Valley, comes a passage in the Blue 
Mountains, replete with the dark beauty of the pine and the ripplmg brook and waterbU. 

Absorbing Scenes. 

All along, the sights have been absorbing is their varied aspects; but it is only when a pause is made at " The Dalles " 
Station that the true arandeur of the scenery of the Columbia River is impressed Upon the mind. From this point the noble river, 
surging and whirling to the sea, breaking the image rocks into wave fragments, occupies the mind of the beholder. The Columbia 
is one of the world's great rivers, affording a waterivay that is navigable for traffic for over 200 miles. Upon itj near its mouth, 
the largest ocean steamers ply with safety. There can be nothing more inspiring than the ride along " The Dalles " of the 
Columbia, with the shining river on one side and the towering battlements of the shore on the other The scene is one of con- 
tinued roagnificence. The grottos, in which are moss-garl wided cascades, almost hidden under the dense foliage, are most inviting 
and beautiful. Multnomah Falls and their surroundings are a bit of fairy land. There arc scores of smaller falls— mere ribbons 
some of them— but all clear and dashing, and banked bv a wealth of moss. For miles upon miles this wild scenery continues, 
and a thousand times the tourist thinks the climax has been reached, only to acknowledge later that something grander has de- 
veloped, particulariy when Cape Horn, 700 feet sheer hcieht ; Castle Rock, 1 ,000 feet ; Gibraltar and Hallct's Hades burst into 
view. Along the Rhine, the Rhone, or the Hudson, there is nothing thatwUl c[*nparc with the stately palisades of the Columbia, 
with their cool recesses, kept sunlesi by the overhanging rocks, and watered by the melting snows of their own summits. A 

tplendid view ciin be had of Mt. Hood, Mt. St. Helen's and the C«r^« „v, .1. 

U^^-. '''T ""^ R'V" S..ti<>n, the' traveller can Vrig1^.^e,1";o"v«hm T^"^ >"T«^^ anything of the kind in .he 
Hoorf,tvveny.fivem.le, distant. The view from Mt, Ho^^ .i3v nrnmn^i ^^ «."<^f"^"' ™«* '<> the base of Mt. 

Hood ,3 made through some of the mo=t ex(raordinanrs<^e^ in "^he w«T/ 1 ' ^f "if '^ *^'*'"" "°^ ^''^' Station to Ml. 
louns. can r«ach other in,portar,t points in Or.eo7^7iutnJ{loTLr^tTAfC' ^'""''"''' '*!' """"P^''^ of O^K^n, thi 
domain. To the tourist, Alaslta presets many |oims of in er„t Its enrL,« .'' '" "'""^^mary and almost unknown 

n,.gn,ficcnt Eleciers hot springs, sulphur lake^ and boyiin^she! „cU ^LfZ i ^^^^^^^^ ^V^' """<^ volc»,oes, 
Alaska will be something to think of in after yars. marstwi, well repay the tourist for making the trip. A trip to 

Acrot* th« Continent to San Franci 


From PcTiUad, magnificent ocean steamers depart for the far distant n^M„t r- 
of the Pacific O^an from Portland to Alaska. F?om Portland to San F"-- ^'"X^""^''"' "•?" P'^ ""' ""= ^'^<^ b^on. 
.hips of the Union Pacific System, or by rail over the Mt. ShasU routf Fm 'r"" '"S""" ^ '"^^ "" "* '^°" "=»"- 
to ban Francisco is continued. Green^River Buttes are objects of interwt.^Sd .^w"ithirsi6ht Z^mZT "" ""'^""* 

Station the elevation is 6,811 feet, 
and at this point the road enters F.cho 
Caflon. Three and a half miles west of 
Wahsatch, the train runs into a tunnel goo 
feet long. One mile east of Castle Rock 
IS ■ ijueer formation of rock resembling 
the ruins of an old castle. " Hanging 
Rock ' is what its name indicates. West 
of Fmory, on top of the Bluff, is « rock 
called " Jack in the Pulpit," and further 
on can be seen the heights of Echo Caflon, 
on the top of which arc the old Mormon 
fortifications. Then comes "Steamboat 
Rocks." Just before reaching Echo are 
Men the "Amphitheatre," '■ Pulpit Rocks,' 
and "Bromley's Cathedral." At Echo 
Suiion, Weber Cafton is entered. West 
«f Echo can be seen the " Witch Rocks.' 
Five miles further on is the 1,000 mile 
tree, and a mile farther on is " Devil's 
Slide." Echo and Weber Caftons compare 
favourably with the celebrated Colorado 
Cations. About half a mile away, between 
Petersen and Uintah Station, " Devil'r 
Gate " is to be seen, and shortly after tie 
country widens into the Great' Salt Lake 
Valley, when Ogden is reached. Between 
Cheyenne and Ogden about ten miles 
of snow-sheds, altogether, are , :3sed, and 
these sbeds are quite a feaiure of the ride 
•cross the continent. Ogden is 1,034 
miles from Council BluBs, 1,260 miles 
from Kansas City, and 833 miles from San 
Fhincisco ; the trip to Salt Lake City 
and Garfield Beach is made from this 

Thr crowning scenes of the trip 
to San Francisco are not beheld until 
after leaving Reno, Cape Horn, Emigrant 
Gap, the Sierra Nevadas, Donner Lake 
and other objects of more than ordinary 
Interest will be found. The marvellous 
Carson and Humboldt sinks, in which 
tbe waters of all the rivers 1:1 the State of 
Nevada save one are swallowed ; the Mud 
Lakes, the Borax marshes, and countless 
numbei-s of thermal springs, have been 
the wonder of the scientist and the delight 
of the tourist. From Sacramento, the 
Central Pacific Railroad branches off via 
Lathrop to Los Angeles, from which point 
the prominent cities and noted resorts 
of California are readily reached. From 
Sacramento the main line of the Central 
Pacific road takes the tourist through to 
Oakland, where a transfer is made across 
an arm of the bay to San Francisco, and 
here this part of the trip "Across the Con- 
tinent " terminates at San Francisco. 

At Wahsalch 

YOSEMITE FALLS, CAL. — HEIGHT ifita FEET— HMlied via thg Unfen Pieifie Sytttm. 



Of aU t!i2 Railroads leading Westward from Chicago, the site of tht 

World's Columbian Exposition, 


With its TWO TRAINS A DAY to the PACIFIC COAST, is easily the TOURIST'S ROUTE 

without a Change of Cars, in connection with its Leased Line, 


The Traveller is carried from Chicago, on Lake Michigan, to the young, thrifty, and enterprtstiw 

Cities of 

Tacouaa Seattle, on gii.get So^^m.cI, 


The Largest City of the Pacific North- West, 


In accomplishing this great distance of more than 2,500 miles, the train traverses in whofc 
or in part Eight Great States. : 

^ I 



I 1 


Probably the finest railway station in the r'not»*f it^t^ « . t 

i. wlwted «ver the U^i I^=i^.es ofl^U noi^ an^acr^trLTJ'!^ he veslibuled train of th« Wiscondi. Central Rai]n>«i, '^ 
f u. minois, ana across the timbered lands and among the hills of WisconMu. 


After a ride of a little more than half a day, ttie cities of ST, PAUL, the Capital of Minnesota, with its massive buildings 
and compact business centre, and MINNEAPOLIS, with its vvorld-renowned Flour Mills, are reached. Within easy ride from 
either of the '■ Twin Cities," as tliey are known in Western phraseology, are the noted MINNEHAHA FALLS, so weU sung 
by Longfellow. 

At St. Paul the NORTHERN PACIFIC RIVILROAD prope. ts taken. 

The road first winds through the Valley of the Mississippi Rii^r, and then enters the Lake Park region. Minnesota contains 
about Lakes, and this particular Ideality is a charming combination of rolling prairie, with sleeping lakes nestling in tbe 
hollows and depressions. 

Then conies the Valley of the Red River of the North, whcpc the hard wheat for which Minnesota and North Dakota are 
famous the world over, is raised. 

The train now winds among the wonderfully fashioned and painted "Bad Lands" of North Dakota, a strangely fascinating 
country, and thence descends into the Valley ofttie Yellowstone River. Following this for 340 miles, it then clambers over the 
Kocky Mountains and across the State of Montana., replete with fine mountain views, and some delicious glimpses of valley land- 
scapes, and along Clark's Fork of the Columbia, to Lake Pend R'Ureille in Idaho. 

Skirting the northern edge of this most enchanting m^iinliin lake, the course of the railroad is south westward to (he 
Columbia River, crossing which it turns north westward, and heroically fights its way across the Cascade Mountains. Here is 
found some superb mountain scenery. The western descent of this range through the Gi een River is a panorama of rare lieauty. 

Four days after leaving Chicago, and threc-and-one-half days after St. Paul has been left behind, the tourist reaches 
TACOMA and SEATTLE, the great cities of the State of Washington, and less than eight hours later the train reaches the 
end of the journey at PORTLAND, OREGON. 

Eit routt, the two great cities of Montana— BUTTE, the greatest Mining Camp of the world, and HELENA, the State 
capital — have been passed, as has also SPOKANE, the largest city of Eastern Washington. 

The Northern PadSc is popularly known as the 

The Gem of Wonderland, tbe Crowning Glory of the Trip, the Most Wonderful Assemblage of Scenic Splendours on the Known 
Earth, is the now world-famed 




The credulity of manltind is tested to its extreme limit in the effort to believe, unseen, that any region of the eiven ,j 

this Park can contain such a congregation of wonderful and dissimilar features. Such a study and pkasure ground of "^ i 
history is it, that the United Stales Government for ever set it aside for the use and pleasure of the people. natural 

Mammoth hot springs, with its myriad pools (lashing the everchanging colours of the rainbow- 

ivith its bubbling and 

disintegrated cliffs ; its extinct geyser cones standing like Mummies amid the wreck of their former greatness, teach the muubTt^' 
of life and time. ' ^^ 

pulsating springs; its caves and caverns ; its living terraces of dazzling white or glowing colour, and its dead ones withcrumblin 

The Geyser Basins, bellowing and hissing, and belching forth from hundreds of vents, with roar and splutter thin fanfT 
steam clouds, with their wonderful basins of crystal water, contained within rims as wonderfully fretted and decorated hav 
counterpart elsewhere, ' * "* 

The mounUins sweep lo the clouds and hold in their embrace eternal snows and glacier*. Luxuriant forests crown rh. 
hills ; cataracts plunge in wild abandon over precipices ; bear and eJk, deer and antelope, haunt the glades and vallevs- florin 
lakes ije scattered all about. ■' ' Eiorioui 

Tbe /!>«<(< rttistanct, the grandest feature of this region, however, is the renowned 


From 1,200 to 1,500 feet deep, its indescribably coloured and carft* walls, its wonderful river and thunderine falls, it. .«™l 
and extensive prospective, make it a wonder of wonders. ^ sranq 

The caflon walls in their ornate warmth of colour are a o-jon Jay dream. In their buttressed cliffsand fantasticalk' wrnnot,. 
columns and pinnacles, they are an architectural study TYa Grand Cafton is a fit eulminalion of the powers here shown tcr,^ vt 
tf^d&^~* "' """ ^"'"'"^' "'' ""'J' °' "''" f*'' °^ Wouderlimd it may be written, "The firmament shov,«h iS 

„ , '^?J^ i*"* Wonderland, the toorist leaves the main line of railroad at Livingston. Montana, about half-wav bctMiwr. e. 
Paul and Puget Sound, and takes the Yellowstone Park Branch Railroad to Cinnabar; whence comfortable staees make thl . 
of the Park in seven days, with convenient stops at large hotels supplied with modern conveniences. 

The marvellous recent development of the Puget Sound country is known of all men. Growlne cities DrosDero,i« .n»™ 
andvlllages are scattered along its coast line. Its valleysyictd abundant harvests, its hills are clothed with imbXous fo.^ 
of cedar, spruce, pine and fir, and its mountains afford rugged scenery. umoragcous lor»ls 



To llie north Mount Baker lifts its snow-crowned head, while from all th< regions round about Seattle, Tacoioa, »nd Olympia, 
the magnifiecnt pile of Mount Tacoma, monarch of monarchs, its haughty crest hoary with the snows of ages and wreathed in 
the white fleeces of the «ir, greets the vision. 

Tacoma is the point from which the tourist who, in connection with his trip over the Northern Padftc, adds to it the Alaskan 
Tour, starts upon this experience of a life-time. For over 1,000 miles the comfortahle steamers thread the storm less' inland pas- 
sage; for 1,000 miles a panorama of mountain peaks, itiland sea, picturesque islands, glittering snow-fields, cracking glaciers, 
frozen rivers, glittering bergs, lovely bays, and Indian villages passes before one. The experience is a new, a novel one, unlike 
anything in the usual routine of travel. 

In addition to this wealth of scenic attraction the Northern Pacific Railroad offers a car service of great excellence. Its 
Pullman Sleeping Cars are the best made ; its Dining Car Service is unezceUcd, and its Tourist and Free Colonist Sleeping Cart, 
place steeping car accommodation within the reach of all. 

To epitomise: Tlie Round Trip from Chicago to the Yellowstone Park, and Return, 
can be made in eleven days, at a cost of about S14-6. This charge includes Railroad 
Fares for the Round Trip, one Double Berth in Pullman Sleeping Car, Meals on Dining 
Cars, Stage Transportation from the end of the Railroad at Cinnabar to all principal 
points of interest in the Park, and Meals and Lodging at the Park Hotels during a stay 
there of six-and-one-quarter days. 

The Round Trip from Chicago to Tacoma on Puget Sound, and Portland, Oregon, 
can be made comfortably in two weeks, spending on the North Coast at its several points 
of interest Five Days. The Expense of this trip for Railroad Transportation, Sleeping 
Cars, and Meals in Dining Cars, approximates $160. 

The Round Trip from Chicago to Tacoma, thence to Sitka, Alaska, and return by 
Steamer, can be made in twenty- one days, at an expense for Railroad Fares, Sleeping 
Cars, Meals i.i Dining Gars, and Berth, and Meals on Steamer for twelve days, ap- 
proximating $240, 1 

For Tourist Books, Maps, Folders, and detailed hijormation as to Rales, etc., address- 


32, Golden Lane, I42, Strand, W C., 

LoNiMJN, E.C., England, London, Encuvnd, 

Or Bmnch Office, ; <^ ^"'«^* 0^«f • 

LuDCATE Circus, London, England, 

Or JSrd/H'h Offi<MS 



General Traffic Manager, 

St. Paul, Minnesota, U.S.A. 


General Passenger Agent, 

Sr. Paul, Minnesota, U.SjI 




It is the Shortest and only Direct Line between the two Cities 
every one must see, NEW YORK and MONTREAL 

, V . . , • • . 

U forms the chief attnction of the grett Historic and Scenic Tour from Niagara Falls, through Uke Ontario, the ThouMnd 
Islands and Rapids of the St. Lawrence River to Montreal, thence through Lake Charaplain and Lake George, the most beautiful 
inland waters in America, if not in the world, to Saratoga Springs, Albany, and down the Hudson River to New York. To vilit 
America without making this incomparable tour would be to miss the best that America has to show. 

Delaware & Hudaoin Xicteeta ai?e ^ood on X^ake 
Champlain StecLnmex>a, and. irice -versa. 






Belaware & Hudson Station and Steaxaboat X4er In the arounds, 

Imiit upon tickets via '" THE DELAWARE & HUDSON." On sale at Offices of Thomas Cooi & Sow, and at all prindpa* 
Raflwa; Offictl in America, I'aps, Time Tables, etc., mailed free upon application to 

J. W. BURDICK, General Passenger Agent, Albany, N.Y., U.S.A. 


I '€/ii€ajfo to tAe 7ioc/iie4, 

Denver, Colorado Springs, etc. 



Take the fast service and elegant equipment offered by 

this Line between Chicago and Denver and California, 

either via Omaha or Kansas City. 

mwLm BBBT DXN^xN^o-CAR SERVICE: IN miE: loroxiz.D. 

^^ y I f ^^ "i^ ^> w ^ 

THE GREAT ROCK ISLAND ROUTE has its magnificent 
Chicago Station In the heart of the city, close to leading 
Hotels in business part of the city. 











Fair City 

is via the 

Great St. 



Reached by the Ever- 

Grand TroDk Railway 

Suspension Bridge 

Niagara Falls, 

Thousand Islands, 

Rapids of the River 

St. Lawrence, 


White •. 




Are attached to all Express Trains, and run through in quick time between 

Quebec, Montreal, New York, Boston, 
Portland, Buffalo, Port Huron, Detroit, and Chicago* 

and all Principal Cities across the American Continent, including Pacific Coast Points. 

EXHIBITORS ahouldspi: that their Goods ire oiirked md fonvsirdcd via ti'^AND TRUNK RAILWAY from PORTLAND, HALIFAX, 
QUEHKC. or MONTREAL, thereby ensuring Ihcir property Koing through from AtUntk PoUb to the CHICAGO WORLD'S FAIR GROUNDS, 
WITHOUT BREAK OR TRANSVER, thus avoiding ill danger of brfaka«c and rouph handling. 

INTENDING Exhibitors or Visitors to the CHICAGO WORLD'S FAIR will find it to their advantajfe to take their Ikkets via the GRAND 
TRTNK RAILVVAV. thereby effecting a saving in time and money, this Company beinff the oit/v Canadian Line running PIJLUWAN*S celebrated 
CARS on their trains dear through without chajis-f over their own rails from QUEBEC to CHlCAtjO. PALACE, iiJNIHG, PARLOUR, and 
SLEEPING CARS, and every comfort and convenience for Travellers. 

The Ocean Steamship Linei land Passengers and Bag^aRe on the wharre* from which the GRAND TRUNK TRAINS STAR!', thus inabliilg 
paflKnj^ers to avoid the inconvenience and cjcpense of crossing the City. 

THROUGH OCEAN and RAIL TICKETS at LOWEST RATES. FiiU particulars as to Fares, Dates of Sailings, etc can be obtained at 
any of the Offices of the Company— 

25, Water Streat, LIVERPOOL ; 2, Pall Mall, MANCHESTER ; 
107, St. Vincent Street GLASGOW; and 


ROBT. QUINN, European Traffic Asent. 





! < 












14 i 

{Reprinted from the "Review of Reviews," December, 1892.) 





mHIS month The Review of Eeviewb is printed hy 

43 Messrs. Clowes and Sons, one of the hipliest-class 
printing establislunenta in the Kingdom. The firet 
numbers were printed bythe IlanBanlUnion.then the print- 
ing was transferred to the Carlyln Pre.-sf , where it remained 
until the present numher. On the failure of Mr. Bniwess, 
however, it was necessary to seek a fresh printer, and the 
present nunil-)er is jjroduced hy Messrs. Clowes and Sons. 
Thefhangeswhichcireumstanceshaveforced u{x»n me have 
naturally led me to take more interest in printing estab- 
lishments iiud printing machines than I liave hitherto 
done. Although it wa.^ a foegy night at the end of No- 
vember, when 1 was much too bney with the work of getting 
out the Review to have moob time to devote to visits of 
inspection in any directioo, 1 acceded to the retjuest of 
Mr. Byers that I should go and see » new printing 
machine which has just been installetl at the works of 
the English Feister Printing Coraiiany, Limited, in Cole- 
man Street, Islington. How we gut there I do imt 
exactly know, nor how we got back again, tint we tr lifted 
ourselves entirely to the pilotage of the driver of our 
liansoni. and seldom has that gondola of London lieen 
more indispensable in threading the maze that intervenes 
between Mowbray Hotis«-! and Coleman Street. When we 
prrived at our destination, we found it was the establish- 
ment of the English Fuister Printing Comi*iny, Limited, 

" Now," said Mr. Byers, a-s we entered, " you will see 
the machine whieli is going to revolutionise the printing 
tradu of the woi'ld." 

The machine for which sii[>h lofty claim was made had 
just been put up. and wa?^ doing its Brst round of printing, 
using for the i-xpcriment some old eleetrotype-phites 
vhich had previously been used for one of the numbers 
of this Review. 

" Explain your revolution," I said to Mr. Byers, who, 
nothing loth, entered into an enthusiastic description of 
the machine, whi<'h ho {leclaretl was the latest triumph of 
ihe mechanical genius of man. 

Mr. Byers is an American, who for the last two years 
or more has hnxide*! over the idea of this machine; and 
now that it has been tmnsfcrrcd from the domain of the 
ideal to that of the ivrai'tieal and material, he is as 
proud (IS a hen who has hatched her firat chicken. Not 
ihat this is Mr. Byers' 6rst chicken, for Mr, Byers has 
had many chickens. He has only hatched it, as the egg 
was none of his own In.vtiig. The machine, to drop meta- 
phor, was originally an American invention, but it has 
been improve! by the genins of two English engineers, 
Mr. Alexander Gray and Mr. Gibson. The original in- 
ventor of the machine was Henrj' P. Feister, who went to 
America some years ago, and put up the machine called 
after his name in the Qnakcr elty. A specimen of this 
unimproved mat'hino has t>een at work for some time 
in London, grinding ont pamphlets with an automatic 

Mr. Byers, however, has a soul alwve pamphlets, and 
believe.* that the new improved machine, of which 
,Jo,seph J. Byers and Co. are the sole agents in England 
and France, is destinetl to make a general overturn in 
■the printing trade of the world. But it is best to let 
JJr. Byers speak for himself. 

This machine, said Mr. B.veis onthnsiaRticallv. " has 
«>lved the problem with which all i>rintjng en'gincera 
have been grappling in vain for tlie la«t twentv vears. 
It will print at newspaper speed from an endle.« vtvh 
with the piwision of a flat machine^ It will ni>t only 
do this, but it will fold, paste, cut, and deliver at the 
sanie tune. The miichines are adapted to take pamphlets 
or liooks van-nig ni width and containing imgcs which 
are multiples of four np to thirty-two pBge,i. These seta 
of thirty-two pages can then be collated, and Iwoks of 
larger sizes mude up. The old Feister was no use except 
for the very longest orders. The eylinder was cased in 
wood, and the plates wew nailed in po.sition. It took six 
or .seven days to prepare for printing, and it was not worth 
while unless yim had an order for at lea.'staniiltion copies. 
Orders for a million copies are not so plentifnl as smaller 
orxlers. so it wa.s absolutely necessary for general business 
to provide a cylinder in which plates coukl be tLsed more 
Ripidly. This object has been attaine<l in the new 
machine. We can put on a plate with the utmost 
simplicity, and owing to the perfection with which all 
the parts have been made and pnt together, we can 
undertake to print anything, and we are not without 
hope that some tlay we may even print The Review of 

_ " Well," said I, "that will depend upon many tliinga. 
You certainly will not print it, unless you can print it 
as well as it is lieing printed on flat machines." 

" We will print it Ijettor," said Mr. Byers, with calm 
ossurance. " We will print it better, more rapidly, and 
more economical ly. That ime machine," said he, pointing 
to it with pride, "dispenses with the labour of about 
thirty pair of hands. One man and a boy will supply alt 
the attendance that is rer[uired." 

" I do not exactly admire thttt," I said. " Yonr pasting 
arrangement, for inshmce, will destroy the industry of 
the girls who stitch the magazines." 

" All labour-.saving apparatus," said Mr. Byers, " in 
the end, creates a fresh demand for labour. For one of yomr 
stitching girls who is thrown out of work as a stitching 
girl two will be wanted to deal with the incrciised htmi- 
ness which the increa-sed facility of production will 
inevitably bring into existence." 

" Protehly," said I, " but in the meantime Well, 

well, go on with your machine." 

"No," said Mr, Byers, "I am not going to explain this 
machine, for 1 am not a mechanician, I am only the 
bolder of the {natents. But here is Mr. Gray: he will 
explain its true inwardness to you." 

I turned to Mr. Gray, who, on Iwing appeakil to, pive 
me a technical account of the machine, and the points 
which differentiate it from any other machines. 

The machine, he said, is designed to print jiamphlets of 
various sizes without the necessity of having rollers of 
different diameters. It takes pajier from the m-l, feeds it 
in, cuts it into sheets of the required lengtli, prints first 
one side of the sheet and then the other Tlie sheets are 
collected together, and as each sheet is collected it 
is pasted along the middle line, after which the 
bundle of sheets is thrown down on to the cover placed 
on the folding-table you see in front of the machine. 



Tlie silicots and cover nre Hieii foltleil so as to form 
a lKiin]ililtt or lKX>k. Tlif |wm|i)ilots tlius prciiared, 
bciiif; iiln.'«(iy pasted, roniirc notliiiit; wore thivii to lit; 
cut niid triiiimwl. Tho macliino cojisiwtK of four c.vlin- 
do's; two of tlicni are forme, or priutiii},', f,vl^ii(l*'f > '""1 tlto 
other two liold the jmuxt to lie printed. In addition 
to thcw cyliiiders there aro the iiecejwfirj sulisidi«ry 
niiicliiiKw for eiitting, eojloeting, imstiiig and tbUliitg, all 
coinbiucd ill the eoufttructiou so as to co-opcnite hnr- 
moiiiiuisly for tlio end in view. Tlie cylinders are 
sufficiently wide to tuke Hevoral rows of jirintinK plates 
sitlf !iy side, aiul they hk sufficiently large in diamist-or to 
he able to print tjiirty-two pages for etteh revolution of 
the cylinder. It is consequently ]>o.s«ihle to print from 
two to six or more complete books of thirty-two jmges 
each, side by wide, at each revolniion. All tliis is done 
with the assisfaiiee of one man ami a boy. 

'■Now you undcrstanrl," chimc<l in Mr. Byers, "these 
tcelmical iletails, I do uoi coneeni myself aliout them, I 
only siee the euormoms faeility which this machine gives 
for the prodnetion of eireuhii's, catulogues and pamphlets 
of all description!;, and printing of all kinds." 

" Is there much demand for euornio)w numbers of 
pamphlets ?" I asked, 

'■ Demand, sir," said Jlr. B^ers, " Why Motlier>Seij;el'8 
Syrup alone ri'ipiii-es 12 J million copies of n thirty-two 
paged paniplilet. One himdred and twanty milliuuB 
eveiy year.' 

" One hundred and twenty millions," said I, sceptically. 

" Yes,"' gaid Mr. Byers. " Btit let me introduce yon to 
Mr, H. K. Packard, from Chie^go, who has aeeuptsd 
a sent on the Board of the Eii}.'lisli Feistcr Fnuting 
Compmy. Mr. Pnckanl, as Mmiitj^iiis Director, has 
niaiuly contributed to the enormous siWcsh of "A. J. 
White, Limited,"" *» 

"Yes," .Slid Mr. Packard, "our annual consumption of 
pamphiets is 12^ millions, and I think tlii.^ miu-hine will us fo get them done nuicker and Ijetter than -we 
have Ixtn able to produce theni hitherto.*' 

'' But," sjiid 1, somewhat dazed with the figures, 
"do you mean to .say tliat you netnally disseminate 
throughout the world UJ million pimphlets about yonr 
eyrtip ?" 

"That is the figure," said Mr, Paekanl "To send 
thoin out eoets us £100 a day in postage stamps, to sav 
nothing ot the cost of private deliverv. We produce 
these jiamphlets in twenty different languages at imwiit. 
and the hnsines-s is but in its infancy." 

"But will you bo able to i»rint 120 million pamiihlets 
on this machine '!" 

" How you talk ! " paid Mr. Byers. " You see these two 
jnaclijnes, jwmting to a second improvtnl Feister whirli 
was tK'ing fitted up opposite to the one which was print- 
ing trom tlie old electros, " Tlieso two machines will be 
able to turn out ISO millions of Mother Seigel's Syrup 
ptmphlets m a twelvemonth • Imt wc are having macliines 
built, each of which will lie capable of turning out one- 
thud more work than the.'ie can do." 

" It will take some busiitp^-is to keen them goine and 
there are not two Mother Seigels." 

"No,;' g<iid Mr. Byers, "but there is no limit to this 
feliul ot printing. Wo are simply choked with onlen;, 
tim " '-■'^"**"'S machines cutmot turn the work out in 

" But there is a. limit, surely, to the world's consump- 
tion of patent medicine pamphlet* '" 

»i "^1l ^"'*^ ^''■- I'l'^-'MrJ. " thero'is no limit. We fiud 
that the more civilised and highly developed and 
pr«,pmas a community is the more medicine it takes. 
in fact, said he. "you can hardly have a belter test of 

the prosperity and civilisation of a community than the 
patent medicine it consumes. It is invariably so. The 
greater the health of the comrannily the more medicine 
it takes, it is only the downright sickly localities where 
medicine seems to l)e at a dikcount ; jwoplo lose heart. In 
pTOSi)erous communities, howeyer, such as New Zealand 
and Australia, the demand for medicine is simply in- 
exhaustible. There is more syrnp taken jier square mile 
in New Zealand and Australia than anywhere else on tlie 
world's surface."' 

" But," said Mr. Byers, " wo are not going to stick to 
patent medicines, never you fear. Wc are going to jiriut 
all the catalc^ucs, and all the school book.s, and all the 
m.iga/ines, everything in fact which iiet'ds to be ipiickly 
produeetl in enormous quantities," 

" Well," said I, " if you really am turn out ramphlcts 
at that ratij then there is a chance of the paper which I 
have dreamed of for many a long year." 
" How ? " said Mr. Byers. 

" How ■? Why, if you can produce pamphlets as rapidly 
as newsijapery, the newspaper of the future will be iu tlje 
slia[K) 01 a pamphlet, and if yon cj«u got magazine printing at 
iiew.spaper sjitcd, illustrations and all, then the revolution 
which you will make in the newspaper tiadc, will be 
greater than the one yon propose to make in the printing 
tiade. Just imagine the cimvonienoeof havinga newspaper 
which you can rtad w-ithout put ting your neighbour's eye 
out in a crowded raihvay carriage, aiul which yon can 
double up and put in yotir pocket as easily us a magaitine. 
That is the line for your machine if you can really do all 
that you say you can." 

"Mir," said Mr. Byers, "we are going on all lines, 
newspaper lines as well as other lines, Tlit-re is nothing 
that this machine Ciinnot do. The days of the blanket 
paper are over and ended.'' 

" Well,' said I, "we shall sto; but I rather doubt the 
lx)s.sibi!ity of producing your pamphlets at the speed 
on wMch you arc reckoning." 

" We shall be able to deliver 2-10,000 copies of a thirty- 
two paged morning i«iperwith thenewmachinos which we 
are having built," said Mr. Byers, positively, " Magazine 
printed, folded, pasted and cut in four hours, using six 
" At what price do you sell your machines?" 
"At no price," .tail! Mr. Byers; " we would not sell it 
for its weight ill dJaiuirnds. The machine is not for sale. 
No, sir, it i.s too v;iluable a patent for the company to 
part with the machines." 

"Then,'" said I, " Mr Byers, do you propose to keep 
the lion'.s share of the printing of the world in your own 
hands ? " 

" Yes, ' said Mr. ByerSj " that is what 1 reckon wc are 
going to do." From which it will be seen tluit Mr. 
Byers is as san-^nine as ho is audacious. 

The machine, as I saw it working, was making from 
sixteen to eighteen revolutions in a minute. Mr. Gray ia 
confident that the machine will make twenty-four revolu- 
tions per minute. He believes it is quite possible to get 
the sjK^d up to thirty, and even forty revolutions in the 
minute ; but that is, at the present moment, not in the 
plane of realised fact. The machine, however, was doing 
lietter work in printing the illustrations of toned blocks 
than any other rotary machine that I have ever seen. It 
was obvious that if this could l>e done with a scratch set 
of plates, put on the cylinder without overlay or under- 
lay, much l)etter results could l>o obtained with proper 
precautions. I left the building, feeling that the i(o»si- 
hility of an improved illustrated English Petil Jvarmd of 
handy shape was at last brought withiu the pale of 
practical possibilities. 



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DUtAke that AmencdD is no more thui ofduuiry liCerAr; &nd coLbqumI 
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ive never tasted Cocoa that I like so well."— ^" *^ o/S™'4^;;.'^^/w' ^'^ 





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