ANTIPODEAN STAGE REALISM
The Heroine Wasn't Soppoeetl to Fall
Into tho Tank.
Several unrehearsed and highly ex
citing incidents occurred at the Initial
production of “The Prairie King at
the Lyceum theater. Sydney, says the
(Melbourne Argus. The play is one of
the wild-west order, and is full of sen
sationalism, which the management
have sought to make more intense by
the introduction of a "real" water scene
and a collapsible bridge effect. A mis
chance began Just before the last beat
of the drum in the overture when a
canvas tank, which fills so many func
tions during the performance, burst
and the water escaping Into the maga
zine below the stage the management
had to send an apologist to crave the
indulgence of the audience while re
pairs were being effected.
The performance crawled along
somewhat sadly, as if the escaping
water had washed the heart out of the
actors, until it was known that the
tank had been refilled. Each member
of the company then played up to the
great abduction scene In the second
act. The part of the heroine was
filled by Miss Maud Williamson. Her
final escape was to have been madi*
across the unlucky tank, find up to
this point all seemed to be going off
admirably. An Indian war-whoop
rang through the theater and the hero
ine was dragged shrieking across the
stage and finally flitted breathlessly
Into a canoe moored to the side of the
tank. Then came a mighty splash, the
canoe having capsized. Miss William
eon fell head over heels into the tank.
The audience was appreciative of the
realism of the situation, for they did
.. ..4 . 4 I_L tl!_ UMIlIxmucill liar!
CHINESE MYSTICISM.
JADE STONE IS BELIEVED TO
HAVE POWERS.
One of the Few Minerals Endowed with
Hew. and Showing Hemarkahle Affinity
—A Strange Tale from the Flowery
Kingdom.
Letter.)
LONG time ago” In
China—and in Chi
na “a long time
ngo" means lost in
antiquity — some
one took a piece of
nephrite, common
ly called Jade
stone, and fashion
ed therefrom an
arm ring. What la
borious means he
employed or the exact shape and size
of the article the chronicles of the
Chinese fail to state. The arm ring
or bracelet of today is of one invari
able shape, resembling nothing so
much as a large martingale. In color
this rare stone ranges from green or
blue to white. It Is never transpar
ent, but Is translucent or sublucent.
From beryl It differs, in having no
cleavage, and from quartz by its fine
ly uneven surface of fracture Instead of
smooth and glassy. A sky-blue vari
ety may be found at Smithfield, It. I„
and a rare green and red gray Is found
at Easton, Pa., and Stoutham, Mass.
Nephrite is made Into images or amu
lets wherever It Is known, and was
formerly extensively worn as a charm.
It was supposed to be a cure for dis
eases of the kidney, hence the name,
from the Greek word nephros. kidney.
In New Zealand, China and Western
America it has long been carved or
polished down by the natives into va
rious fanciful shapes. The custom In
China Is to place the bracelet on a
young man’s arm Just before the
hand stops growing. A tight fit Is
' whom were numerous merchants,
made brave to go out and barter. Of
great fame was that one who was
master of the junk. Much rich spoil
brought he to be bought or traded for.
Fowls, eggs, fresh meat and supplies
of all kinds and descriptions were
carried out In small boats. These
brought back In exchange that which
the master of the Junk had collected In
his vast rovings and many bloody
massacres. Among those brave ones
from the land who tarried on the Junk
even until the Ill-gotten cargo was well
nigh disposed of, was one wise one,
of long years and much learning In the
land. As yet no purchase had he
made, nor effort to barter. Seeing he
remained to the last, the master of the
Junk addressed him, saying, ‘Thou
hast not bought of all my store. And
now there remains nothing. Where
fore tarriest thou?’ And the wise one
replied, ‘I would buy If I but knew
the price.’ ‘The price of what?' asked
the master. ’Thy magic bracelets,’ an
swered the other. 'How knowest thou
I have magic bracelets, seeing they are
hid beneath the sleeve?’ roared the
master. ‘I know all things.' ‘Then
say what they are worth.’ ’I will give
one million tael.’ 'Wherefore such
great price?’ ’They be male and fe
male.' 'Male and female?’ '1, the wise
one, have said It.’ In proof of which
the wise one requested that he be al
lowed to hold either of the bracelets
In his own hand. Wrought with curi
osity and after much difficulty In doing
so, the master took from bis arm the
first of the pair of magic bracelets
which had so far been hidden. Kager
ly seizing It, the wise one gazed for a
long time Into Its mysterious bril
liancy, then of a sudden he flung it
over the edge of the Junk into the
water below. With a tiger’s shriek
the master of the Junk drew forth his
glittering sword and cried, ‘What hast
thou done?’ 'Naught that cannot be
remedied, even to that which was be
fore. Have I not said they be male and
female? I)lp thy hand deep into tho
| sea and that which is astray will seek
.
faint; she had not a sou in her pocket;
aud her child was fainting with cold
and hunger. It seemed to her that her
last hope had gone.
Then she suddenly remembered that
a certain Miss Dove, a wealthy Eng
lish woman, had founded a home in
Paris for her destitute countrywomen.
She knew the address, It was nearer
than the British Embassy. She drag
ged herself and child to It. She hail
Just suflicient strength left to ring the
hell, when she sank fainting on the
threshold of the door.
When Marjorie again opened her
eyes she was lying in a strange bed,
and a lady with a pale, grave face was
still bending above her.
"Where am I?" she cried, starting
up; and then she looked around for her
child.
A cold hand was laid upon her fever
ishly burning forehead, and she was
gently laid hark upon her pillow.
"The child is quite safe," said a low
sweet voice. “We have put him In a
cot, and lie Is sleeping; try to sleep,
too, and when you waken you will be
stronger, and you hhall have the little
boy.”
Marjorie closed her eyes and moaned,
and soon fell Into u heavy, feverish
sleep.
Having seized her system, the fever
kept its burning hold, and for many
CHAPTER XXXII.-fCoXTi x i sn.l
They passed through London and at
last reached Paris.
On arriving at the station. Suther
land called up a fly, and ordered It to
drive with the greatest possible speed
to the Hotel Suisse, a quiet establish
ment close to the boulevards. Ones
there, he ordered a private room, con
ducted Miss Hetherlngton to |t, and
proposed that she should wait there
while he went In search of Marjorie,
At first she rebelled, but she yielded
at last.
"Yes, I will wait,” she said. "I am
feeble, as you say, Johnnie Sutherland,
and not fit to face the fog ami snow;
but you’ll bring the bairn to me, for
I cannot wait long!”
Eagerly giving Ills promise, Suther
land started off, and the old lady, un
able to master her excitement, walked
feebly about the room, preparing for
the appearance of her child.
She had the Are piled up; she bad
the table ladened with food and wine;
then she took her stand by the win
dow, and eagerly tcanned the face of
every passer-by. At length, and after
what seemed to her to be hours of ag
ony, Sutherland returned.
He wag alone.
"The bairn; the bairn!” she cried,
ottering toward him.
He made one quick step toward her,
*nd caught her in his arms us be re
plied:
"Dear Miss Hetherlngton, she hns
gone!”
For a moment she did not seem aide
to understand him; she stared at him
blankly and repeated;
"Clone! where Is she gone?”
i Sutherland had been too much car
ried away by the work he had In hand
to notice Adele’s emotion. He opened
the paper she had given him, and read
the address hy the aid of the street
lamp; then he returned to the fly,
which stood waiting for him at the
curbstone. He gave his directions to
the driver, then entered the vehicle;
taking his seat beside Miss Hetherlng
ton. who sat there like a statue.
The vehicle drove off through a se
ries of well-populated streets, then it
stopped. Sutherland leaped out, and to
his confusion Miss lletherlnglon ros“
to follow him. He made no attempt
to oppose her, knowing well that an/
such attempt would be useless.
So the two went together up a dark
ened court, and paused before a door
In answer to Sutherland’s knock a lit
tle maid appeared, and he Inquired In
as firm a voice as he could command
for Monsieur Caussldicre.
Yes, Monsieur Caussldicre was at
home, she said, and If the gentleman
would give his name she would take
It; but this Sutherland could not do.
He slipped a napoleon Into the girl’s
hand, and after a momentary hesita
tion she showed the two Into the very
room where the Frenchman r.at.
He was dressed not in his usual dan
dified fashion, but In a seedy morning
been caught In the canoe and was in
most imminent risk of being drowned.
Some of the performers kept the play
going, but Mr. King Hedley and some
stage hands groped anxiously and un
successfully for the leading lady.
Then the curtain was rapidly rung
down and a fireman and a stage hand
plunged in to the rescue of the dis
tressed heroine In real earnest. Ex
actly how long she was submerged can
not he said, hut when pulled out from
beneath the canoe she was uncon
scious. Though the shock was con
siderable, Miss Williamson insisted
upon reappearing and the audience,
who had by this time become ac
quainted with her mishap, received her
with rapturous cheering. Then there
followed a hitch in the bridge scene
through Mr. King Medley's alleged
■mustang refusing to face the risk of
plumping down into the tank. The
star, however, seized the untried horse
and forced him at the bridge, which
collapsed exactly at the right moment
and let him down with a huge splash
Into the tank. The play was thus con
verted by sheer courage and quick-wit
tedness from a threatened failure into
a huge success.
ROMANCE ON THE RANGE.
4a»llant Oklahoma Man Ka<-rtH<e* a
Claim and Wins a ltrlrie
A friendship began under peculiar
and exciting circumstances was cul
minated a few days ago in the mar
riage of Richard J. Malone and Miss
Mary Hildreth at Caldwell, Kan. For
several months previous to the open
ing of the Cherokee strip to settlement,
in 1893, a handsome girl could be seen
daily riding a spirited-black horse at
break-neck speed on the plains south
of Caldwell. She was practicing foi
the run for a claim, and had fixed up
on a beautiful valley claim about six
miles south of Caldwell. On the open
ing of the day she was in line, and as
the signal gun boomed forth her horse
leaped ahead of the waiting crowd
having been trained by her to jumi
at pistol shot, and she was soon far it
the lead of all except a young man or
a bay horse, who kept almost abrcas
of the fair rider. Like the wind the
two rae'ed forward for four miles, wher
suddenly the girMi of the saddle or
the black horse snapped, and a mo
ment later the fair rider fell to the
ground. Stopping his horse, the yourif
man dismounted and essayed to as
slst the unfortunate young lady. She
was unhurt, save a sprained ankle, bu
she e'ould proe-eeel no farther owing te
the broken saeldle. The crowd tha
had been left behind was now uliuos
upon int’in, aim * *»«* billing nnmnn a'
once decided to slake the claim when
she had fallen, ami urged the younf
man to hurry on to a better place. A!
though a stranger, he refused to leavt
the fair one in dlnl.eas, gave up hh
hope for a line claim In the valley, ant
Htaked the claim adjoining hers Tht
acquaintance thus begun soon rlpenet!
Into friendship and later Into love
and before many Weeks had passed tht
two were engaged. Knur years they
waited, however, to (Misses* the hornet
for which they had risked so mu, h
and only last week they proved tit
their claim* and at once nought the
nearest minister aud were mails one.
r»S«Ut 'em >•» |l,«**»«.
The Mu Hmund Inspateh says
‘ goon after the e*. ape of Kvangellns
Cisneros from prison V It. I'avne ,.|
Charlwtleavllle Va nmelyrd the idr i
•if naming one of his ftthes after the
dating young Kuban maiden Word
Ittgly, he wrote at <>n to the t'nney
Island Jo* h»y nub asking that th*
name be registered for ,n»e ,.| Ms lhoc
•Highbred toll*. The other day be re
• elved g letter from the < tab saving
that fheee had been ui«r thirty ap
yiktisso hut as his su Iks Srst Ms
warn* had keen d •• •«'•••• "d fur hi*
ra**r "
r**nae« H* ton
ntftkrme Q«msr mm in tty* caper
thta gMMgtna *kuui a man • nor*, ttiw**
rmrstvery tens h* h k»* iiroggtat
That ee' How to y « *..ont f-.« g<
IlyMMS He la an •« butgtat a«4 tt
t* thought that h* pi M l the be h luf*
Jag the night
MAGNIFICENT WATER PALACE.
_ •* urr^. .. ^ ... vjfr'vW VSv «. ..
To Paris and Its visitors from ail
the world, the name of the Chateau
d'Eau—water place—has long been
familiar. But the superb project of
Prof. Jan Zawiejski, architect of the
grand theater at Cracow, by which it
is proposed to enchance the splendors
of the intended Parisian universal ex
hibition of 1900 surpasses most other
designs of decorative architecture con
trived for the mere spectacle of a mag
; niflcent festivity. It is to be con
structed of Iron, and to be clothed with
rushing water; indeed, the water is
to form its inner walls, descending iu
vast sheets of unbroken liquid surface,
which are completely to enclose the
hulls and chambers of the interior, and
to form a majestic dome crowning the
w hole edifice. The total height will l>e
over 300 feet, rivaling the loftiest build
ings. This is divided horizontally into
three stories, the solid framework of
which exhibits different architectural
orders—the Tuscan, the Renaissance,
and the Ionic styles, one above another.
Visitors will have entrances quite free
from danger of a wetting, and may
ramble securely about the palace, take
their scats in the theater as spectators
of the Varieties, or avail themselves of
the restaurant, or ride on bicycles, or
Join the dance at a ball. liy the aid
of lifts and staircases they can go any
where, protected In some places by
glass screens and roofs, where need
ful, from even a drop of water blown
aside by disturbance of the air. The
surrounding waters, however, illumi
nated with electric light in various
changing colors, will probably lie the
chief attraction of this wondeful pal
ace. Furthermore details may be ex
pected iu the course of its erection.
usually secured, and once placed the
amulet arm ring Is worn throughout
life. At death. If the bracelet has
A j/j /A
out Its mat*' Doubting, tbe master,
with much difficulty for he was u fat
man had himself lowered over the
edge of the Junk and dipped deep hi*
bracelet arm. which I* the right, far
women wear theirs upon the left. And,
lo! when the master's arm was with
drawn, side by side upon It, Ilka hus
band and wife, dung the magic brace
id#.'' rfluc# that day It has been the
desire of every Chinamans heart to
purses* a pair of magic bracelets.
Steasing aiaitstle*.
there ate tKMNttl liable* bum lu the
• lly ul New kerb every year They
number JJ» n day, or one earh sis
uuuuis# Take them out tugelhei tor
an airing and the row uf baby ray.
• tags* would i sland up lb* Hudson to
Albany IW miles Current iuivra
lure,
n» vvoxuss,
dimktn- Hankins is so mu-teat mat
be slweic mms away when h* sc.s
a mtrrvM rimktna Csttaw* It teal
avodentl. It a because hi* nit* buy*
ki» Mac htle*
In « a*« Irwu poke* ie>*niiy patent
*4 in* rtug* are binged tw the sad of
a Hr and operated by patting a curd
Is < base Ilk* Inna around lb* apple a
fnbrw Ntsb «« lube being mounted at
the bn- k nf rat b ring in v*t*b the Itsit
ns tt falls
i * MM) It UVKH IIIK KlklK
!»»»*•» * H**'k» **** *»•< It tfc*r# I* *
*m» *kti«k It alii •< Ui« U>* >• Ik lk«
«l«t •»»* • k**4 kr« bi >k*k an4 Ik*
k(#.*l#« t*ktu«*4 lk*l Ik* t'hlk***.
• •ktkflM *4" t*. «k«l»*4 m« ik Milk*t■ ,
*l« I* •« >4*ki tr*nm Ik# MW** in* <«i«
<*U#i»4 hum *>*• ul ik*lt «u*t *k I
il#kt *w«k* #4 MlMHwt Mtti
»•*»« H b#*lk*. Ik*»* kw«# Ik •
•k4 **>«k*4 kktkar i* ik# ■•*#• i*u*l
#4 t'kkikk # **•*•*» k*kk U*k| ik
ktkllMU rtk# 4***# tk Ik# •«!««'•
| »4** ««4 Ik* 4*1 Ik* »•#», Mk#n«
"I do not know; several weeks ago
she left this place with her child, and
she has not been seen since.”
The old woman's agony watt pitiful
to see; she moaned, and with her trem
bling fingers clutched her thin hair.
“Gone!” she moaned. "Ah, my God,
she is in the streets, she Is starving!”
Suddenly a new resolution came to
her with an effort she pulled herself
together. She wrapped her heavy fur
cloak around her and moved toward
the door.
"Where are you going?” demanded
Sutherland.
She turned round upon him with liv
id and death-like face.
"Going!” she repeated, in a terrible
voice. ”1 am going to him!—to the
villain who first learned my secret and
stole my bairn awa’l”
Miss Hetherington spoke firmly,
showing as much by her manner as
by her speech that her determination
was fixed. Sutherland therefore made
no attempt to oppose her; but he called
up a fly, and the two drove to the
lodgings which had been formerly oc
cupied by Marjorie and Caussldlere.
To Sutherland's dismay, the rooms
were empty, Caussldlere having disap
peared and left no trace behind him.
For a moment he was at a loss wbat to
do.
Suddenly he remembered Ad tic, and
resolved to seek assistance fiom her.
Yet here again he was at a loss. It
would be all very well for him to seek
out Adele at the cafe, but to take
Miss Hetherington there was another
matter. He therefore asked her to re
turn to the hotel and wait quietly there
while he continued the search.
1 Ills she positively refused to do.
“Come awa'. Johnnie Sutherland,”
she said, "and take me with you. If
I'm a woman I’m an old one, and no
matter where I gang I mean to find my
child.”
At seven o’clock that night the cafe
was brilliantly lit and crowded with a
roisterous company. Adele, flushed
and triumphant, having sang one of
her most popular songs, was astonished
to see a man beckoning to Mr from
the audience. Looking again, she saw
that the man was none other than the
young artist—Sutherland.
Descending from her rout rust, she ea
gerly went forward to Join him, and
'.he two passed out of the cafe and
stood confronting each othe* in the
street.
"Adele," said Sutherland, eagerly,
seising h r bands, where la that man
Caussidlere?"
"Causaddlers?" she lepeated, staring
u him in seeming amusement
"Yes. Onunsldiergl Ti ll me where he
Is, for limi t sake'"
Again Vdele hesitated someth! Ig
h td happened. <>f that she felt aura, for
| the man who now itwnl !•< fore her was
' rerlaiut) uot the Sutherland of other
I days, then- was a Imik In hi* eye*
I which cl never if * ti there baford
"Monsieur, ' she said grulltr. "tell me
gist where la madam* his wife?”
tits! knows' I waul to find her I
hate Some lo I'll I* W ith her luulher
i lo lot>» that yliialn in gits ht r up
Vdi le if yen .tel II know hei where
] statute, tail m* where he is.**
She heetlsted fur a moment, tint.
1 dies fiotn her p* til s pie.e of pops#
I #t tihhled someihms on it In p»m and
| piTsaed ft Into Mt»lh*fioAd a hsn«f
And her I t mat saw her* tu*.« only
tune ns*1*
‘ Yaw,'*
Ud '-iees H"i It. u.o
dh» selaesl AW hand and eagert > pfes*
ad kh to hat Ilf* ih«n hnaiilt hrush
Ing away a tear *a# re entered the
| gate and we* twem tfeitghting her
! • a>«a edw e . »!■,« an- 'a *> ag
coat; ills race looked naggaru. lie wan
Heated at a table with idles of paper
before him. lie looked up quietly
when the door opened; then seeing
MIhh Hetherlugton, who hail been the
first to enter the room, he started to his
feet.
"Madame!" he exclaimed in French,
"or shall I say Mademoiselle Mother
Ington?”
"Yen,” Hhe returned quietly, In the
same tongue, "MIhh Hetherlngton. 1
have come to you, villain that you are,
for my child!"
"Your child?"
“Ay, my daughter, my Marjorie!
Where Is she, tell me?”
By this time CaiiHsidlcre had recov
ered from his surprise, lie was still
rather frightened, but he conquered
himself sufficiently to shrug his shoul
der*, sneer and reply:
"Keally, madame, or mademoiselle,
your violence Is unnecessary. I know
nothing of your daughter; she left me
of her own free will, and 1 request you
to leave my house."
But the old lady stood firm.
"I will not stir," she exclaimed, "un
til I have my Marjorie. You took her
from her home, and brought her here.
What have you done with her? If
harm has come to her through you,
look to yourself."
The Frenchman’s face grew livid; he
made one step toward her, then he
drew back.
"Leave my house," he Haid, pointing
to the door; “the perron of whom you
speak is nothing to me.”
"It is false; she is your wife.”
"She 1b not my wife! she was my
mistress, nothing more!"
Scarcely had the words passed lib
lips when the Frenchman felt himsell
seized by the throat, and violently
hurled upon the ground. He leaped tr
his feet again, anil once more fell
Sutherland's hard hands gripping hit
throat. "Coward as well as liar,” cried
the young Scotchman; "retract what
you have said, or, by God! I'll strangle
you!”
The Frenchman said nothing, but he
struggled hard to free himself from the
other's fierce clutch, while Miss Heth
erington stood grimly looking on.
Presently Caussidlere shook himsell
free, and sank exhausted into a chair
"You villain!" he hisst>d; “you shal
suffer for this. I will seek police pro
tection. I will have you cast intc
prison. Yes, you shall utterly rue the
day when you dared to lay a flngei
upon me.”
lint Sutherland paid no heed. Find
Ing that lu reality Cuusslillere knew ai
little of Marjorie's whereabouts as b*
knew himself, he at lust perstiadei
Miss Hetherlngtun to leave the plar*
They drove to the prefect of pollct
to set some Inquiries on foot; then they
went hack to the cafe to make furthei
Inquiries of Adele. tin one thing th»j
were determined, not to rest night in
dry t. nil they hud found Marjorie
alive or dead.
CIIAITKH XXXIII.
i IIBN Miss llether
tutilfli wo hasten
Ing to ronfroui
rtc, with her chlkl
> ing wenti
I > IlMUUgh t h i
streets of Paris.
! heat Hr, mw kin a her through ate
j through
tivtthiettit she Irtoea.- *ted What I hi
wtlh aontan had wM i>*i *h* *oat.
' go fa the Knglisn .into • <<a>kii perhapi
. h* ewttki glue let relief mot engine hei
to get h»nn*
gh« pa weed ogee or take la «.k hei
wap, hat the euakt *et tot ilteo It hi
•St nothing met* the t • ettee* well
eng »*» eisni titU thtaat 014* «
; »«oh AI ksel h tittle taWHt gate hei
the tafui etaltoa .he a teed the pia«<
i eh* eought wet three feiht nf
Throe mite*' hh» ••* fontsei* an*
that Marjorie would die; hut fortunate
ly her constitution was strong; she
passed through the ordeal, and one day
she opened her eyes on what seemed to
her a new world.
For a time she lay quietly looking
about her, without a movement am!
without a word. The room In which
hIip lay was small, hut prettily fitted,
up. There were crucifixes on Ihe wall,
and dimity curtains to the bed and th<
windows; through the diamond panes,
the sun was faintly shining; a cozy flr<
filled the grate; on the hearth sat a
woman, evidently a nurse; while on
the hearth-rug was little Leon, quiet
as a mouse, and with his lap full of
toys.
It was so dreamy and wo peaceful'
that she could Just hear the murmur of
life outside, and the faint crackling of
the fire on the hearth- that was all.
She lay for a time watching the two
figures as in a vision; then the mem
ory of all that had passed c.me back
upon her, and she sobbed. In a mo
ment the woman rose and came over
to her, while little Leon ran to the
bedside, and took her thin, white hand.
"Mamma,” he said, "don't cry!”
For in spite of herself Marjorie felt
the tears coursing down her cheeks
The nurse said nothing. She smoothed
> hack the hair from her forehead, and
quietly waited until the invalid's grief
had passed away.
Then she said gently:
"Do not grieve, madam. The worst
of your Illness Is over. You will s on b<
well.”
“Have I been very 111?” asked Mar
jorie, faintly.
“Yes, very ill. We thought that yo w
would die."
"And you have nursed me you have
saved me? Oh! you are very good!
Who—who are you—where am I?”
‘‘Yftu are amongst friends This
house is the home of every one who
needs a home. It belongs to Miss Es
ther Dove. It was she who found you
fainting on our door-step, and took
you in. When you fell into a fever she
gave you into my charge. I am one
of the nurses.”
She added, quietly:
“There, do not ask me more ques
tions, for you are weak, and must be
very careful. Take this, and then, if
you will promise to soothe yourself,
the little boy shall stay beside you
while you sleep.”
Marjorie took the food that was of
fered to her, and gave the promise re
quired. Indeed, she felt tob weak to
talk.
(TO BE COSTINUEO.)
NAVAL BURIALS.
.. .. .. —
tcrnifnt He Provided.
The chaplain’s official station in most
ship ceremonies and in time of battle
Is at the sick bay, where lie the sick,
says Donaboe's. Discipline and fresh
•»ir are wonderful preservatives of
health, and a chaplain's duties to the
sick in times of peace are very light
At naval hospitals, however, whither
are brought from the ships the very
sick and the seriously wounded, a
chaplain finds ample Held for the exer
cise of that tender sympathy which
wins souls to God and for tha minister
ing of the consolation of religion. It
is also the duty of the chaplain to as
sist at naval burials. The reguiationi
requlrti that Christian burial lie provid
ed for all men who die In the service.
If possible, the body Is Interred with
I the rites of the church to which the
deceased had belonged When this >« |
I duty la required at sea the ship Is hove
to, the hag displayed at half mast
and the officers anil mm are mustered
nu deck to pay their last lllbilte to the
departed. The funeral sium follow
and the body la then • unsigned to the
deep A guard of honor fit*, threw
volleys aver the watery gmv< «nd the
! bugler sounds the last tap* sad.
: mournful note* of Ike bugle a huh t« It
i of the hour of sleep If the death uc
j cure at a hospital an swell and a
| guard of honor from the ship to .hut*
j the deceased had been attached ac
company Ike funeral cortege t« the
| grave As Ike pern eaelorr eaters the*
; cemetery the bugler proceed, tetmaed
j by the * hspUta fbta spertml* is el
[ ways impreeerva It aatur.lt> • ■gg-eia
i lbe prater that angete. ted by Ike angel
i guardian may hear ike smut af tk* de
I reseed before Ike throne at IKal aa
frtenls bear the body in the grate
j that the angel, at the lodgment mat,
may proclaim nefeome. |wy and glad
nerss as tha tugler al tbs gras# <ea>a
' Iana smlaeas and racist