from earth to heaven, never faded from
the minds of those nearest and dearest to
her. Her illness lasted for not longer than
two weeks after Lauretta's return.

"She was only waiting for her child,"
sighed Doctor Louis.

819

whether there was hope that she might still be spared to them. He took advantage of the sad occasion to impress moral rify their hearts and live good lives. It lessons upon his flock, bidding them puIt needed all his strength of mind and restraint had grown up between Father was remarked by a few that a feeling of all the resources of his wise nature to en- Daniel and Gabriel Carew since the latable him to bear up against the impend- ter's return from his honeymoon tour. ing blow; and these would not have availed Indeed, on Father Daniel's part, this new but for the sweet and tender words whis- feeling must have been generated before pered by his wife as he sat by her bed- Carew's return, and it very quickly imside, holding her hand in his. Lauretta pressed itself upon Carew. He was not did not leave her mother. The young slow in paying coldness for coldness; his girl-wife suffered deeply. Even the love nature was not of that conciliatory order of her husband, it seemed, could not com- to beg for explanations of altered conpensate for the loss of the dear one, whose duct. Proud, self-contained, and to some unselfish course through life had been extent imperious and exacting in his dealstrewn with flowers, planted and tended ings with men, Carew met Father Daniel by her own hands to gladden the hearts in the spirit in which he was received. No of those around her. The whole village words passed between them; it was sim mourned. Grateful men and women clus-ply that the priest evinced a disposition tered outside the gates of Doctor Louis's to hold aloof from Gabriel Carew, and house from morn till night, anxiously in- that, the moment this was clear to Carew, quiring how the invalid was progressing, he also fell back, and did not attempt to and whether there was any hope. Sim- bridge the chasm which separated these ple offerings of love were hourly left at two men who had once been friends. the house, and were received with gratitude. Her eyes brightened when she was told of this.

"The dear people! she murmured. "God guard them, and keep them free from temptation and sin!"

These words were uttered in the presence of her husband and Gabriel Carew, and they learned from them how her heart had been racked by the terrible events which had occurred lately in Nerac, staining the once innocent village with blood and crime.

"She loved Eric and Emilius," said Doctor Louis to Carew, "as though they were her own sons. has a firm belief in Emilius's innocence." To this moment she "Her nature," was Gabriel Carew's comment, "is too gentle for justice. Fitly is she called the Angel Mother.'

It was a title by which she had been occasionally spoken of in the village, and now that she was lying on her death-bed it was generally applied to her.

With each member of her family the An-
So the days wore on till the end came.
hours of her death.
gel Mother held converse within a few

"Be good to my dear child," she said to Carew.

the chamber, and it was at her request There was no one else but these two in that they were alone.

66

said Carew.
My heart, my life, are devoted to her,"
I deal by her!"
"So may I be dealt by as

ways love," said the mother. "You have
"She loves you as women do not al-
by your side one who will sweeten and
is tender and sweet has ever crossed her
purify your days. No thought but what
mind. She is the emblem of innocence.
In giving her to you I believed I was do-
ing what was right. Do not question me

been much shaken by the fate of Eric my moments are numbered. I have and Emilius. You believe Emilius to be "For the Angel Mother," said the vil-ments. With my dying breath I declare guilty. Be more merciful in your judglagers, as they left their humble offerings my belief in his innocence. It would be at her door. not say this to you." disloyal to one I loved as my son if I did

cially to me?"
"But why," asked Carew gently, “ espe

In his goings in and out of the house the good priest, Father Daniel, was besieged by eager sympathizers, asking him to convey loving messages from this one and that one to the Angel Mother and.— "I would say it to all," she replied, the wish being father to the thought-in- lieve. His poor wife-his poor wife ! "and I would have all believe as I bequiring whether she was not, after all, a Ah, how I pity her! Help her, if you little better than she was yesterday, and can. Promise me."

"I will do so," said Carew, "if it is in | wished," said Doctor Louis to Lauretta. my power, and if she will receive help "I remember her saying long ago in the from me." past, that she would like to be buried on a bright summer day—such as this. Ah, how the years have flown! But we must not repine. Let us rather be grateful for the happiness we have enjoyed in the association of a saintly woman, an angel now-waiting for us when our time

"Lauretta and you are one," said the dying woman; "if not from you, she will receive it from my daughter. Before you leave me, answer one question, as you would answer before God. Have you anything hidden in your heart for which you have cause to reproach yourself?" "Nothing," he replied, wondering that such a question should be put to him at such a moment.

"Absolutely nothing?" "Absolutely nothing." "Pardon me for asking you. May no shadow of sin or wrong-doing ever darken

your door! Lift your heart in prayer. If you have children, teach them to pray. Nothing is so powerful to the young as the example of parents. Farewell, Gabriel. Send my husband and my daughter to me, and let my last moments with them be undisturbed." She gazed at him kindly and pityingly. "Kiss me, Gabriel."

He left the room with eyes overflowing, and delivered the message to Doctor Louis and Lauretta, who went immediately to the chamber of death.

Father Daniel was in the apartment, praying on his knees. He raised his head as Gabriel Carew stepped to his side. The time was too solemn for resentment or coldness.

"Pray with me," said the priest.

Gabriel Carew sank upon his knees, and prayed, by the priest's direction, for mercy, for light, for pardon to sinners.

comes.

And in his heart there breathed the hope, "May it come soon to me!"

The people lingered about the grave, over which to this day the flowers are growing.

XI.

So numerous had been the concourse of people, and so engrossed were they in their demonstrations of sorrow and affec tion for their departed friend, that the presence of a stranger among them had not been observed. He was a man whose appearance would not have won their favor. Apart from the fact that he was unknown which in itself, because of late events, would have predisposed them against him- his face and clothes would not have recommended him. He had the air of one who was familiar with prisons; he was common and coarse-looking; his clothes were a conglomeration of patches and odds and ends; he gazed about him furtively, as though seeking for some particular person or for some special information, and at the same time wishful, for private and not creditable reasons, not to draw upon himself a too close observation. Had he done so, it would have been noted that he entered the village early in the day, and, addressing himself to children— his evident desire being to avoid intercourse with men and women- learnt from them the direction of Gabriel Carew's house. Thither he wended his way, and loitered about the house, looking up at the windows and watching the doors for the When the news was made known, the appearance of some person from whom he village was plunged in grief. The shops could elicit further information. There were closed, and the villagers went about was only one servant in the house, the quietly and softly, and spoke in gentle other domestics having gone to the funeral, tones of the Angel Mother, whose spirit and this servant, an elderly woman, was at was looking down upon them from heav-length attracted by the sight of a stranger enly heights. Early on the morning of strolling this way and that, without any the funeral the children went into the definite purpose-and, therefore, for a woods and gathered quantities of simple She stood in the doorway, gazwild flowers, with which they strewed the ing at him. He approached and addressed road from Doctor Louis's house to the her. grave. The sun was shining, the birds were singing, soft breezes floated over the churchyard.

Half-an-hour afterwards the door was opened, and Doctor Louis beckoned to his son-in-law and the priest. They followed him to the bedside of the Angel Mother. All was over; her soul had passed away tranquilly and peacefully. Carew knelt by Lauretta, and passed his arm tenderly

around her.

"It is as the dear mother would have

bad one.

"I am looking for Gabriel Carew's house," he said.

"This is it," the servant replied.
"So I was directed, but was not sure,

being a stranger in these parts. Is the whether it was a man or woman, and he master at home?"

took no pains to ascertain till the religious
ceremony was over. Then he addressed
himself to a little girl.
"Who is dead?

"Our Angel Mother," replied the girl. "She had a name, little one." His voice was not unkindly. The answer to his question-"Angel Mother" - had touched him. He once had a mother, the memory of whom still remained with him as a softening if not a purifying influence. It is the one word in all the languages which ranks nearest to God. "What was hers?"

"Don't you know? Everybody knows. Doctor Louis's wife."

"Doctor Louis's wife!" he muttered. "And I had a message for her!" Then | he said aloud, “Dead, eh?” "Dead," said the little girl mournfully. "And you are sorry? "Everybody is sorry."

"Ah," thought the man, “it bears out what he said." Again, aloud: "That gentleman yonder, is he Doctor Louis?" "Yes."

"The priest-his name is Father Dan

"Thank you; I will go there." He was about to depart, but turned and said, "Where's the gardener, Martin Hartog?"iel, isn't it?" "He left months ago."

"Left, has he? Where for?" "I can't tell you."

"Because you won't?"

"Because I can't. You are a saucy fellow."

"No, mistress, you're mistaken. It's my manner, that's all; I was brought up rough. And where I've come from a man might as well be out of the world as in it." He accompanied this remark with a daredevil shake of his head.

"You're so free at asking questions," said the woman, "that there can be no harm in my asking where have you come from-being, as you say, a stranger in these parts?

"Ah, mistress," said the man, "questions are easily asked. It's a different thing answering them. Where I've come from is nothing to anybody who's not been there. To them it means a lot. Thank you for your information."

He swung off without another word towards the village. He had no difficulty in finding Doctor Louis's house, and observing that something unusual was taking place, held his purpose in and took mental notes. He followed the procession to the churchyard, and was witness to the sympathy and sorrow shown for the lady whose body was taken to its last restingplace. He did not know at the time

"Yes."

"The young lady by Doctor Louis's side, is she his daughter? "Yes."

แ

"Is her husband there-Gabriel Carew?"

"Yes; there he is." And the girl pointed him out.

The man nodded, and moved apart. But he did not remain so; he mingled with the throng, and coming close to the persons he had asked about, gazed at them, as though in the endeavor to fix their faces in his memory. Especially did he gaze, long and earnestly, at Gabriel Carew. None noticed him; they were too deeply preoccupied in their special sorrow. When the principal mourners moved away he followed them at a little distance, and saw them enter Doctor Louis's house. Being gone from his sight, he waited patiently. Patience was required, because for three or four hours none who entered the house emerged from it. Nature, however, is a stern mistress, and in her exaction is not to be denied. The man took from his pocket some bread and cheese, which he cut with a stout clasp knife, and devoured. At four o'clock in the afternoon Father Daniel came out of the house. The man accosted him.

"You are Father Daniel?"

"I am." And the priest, with his ear

"Ah," said Father Daniel, "give me Gabriel Carew looked at the man. your hand. Nay, I will have it. We are "I come from Emilius," said the man, brothers. No temptation has been mine."and am just released from prison. I I have not sinned because sin has not promised him to deliver to you a message presented itself to me in alluring colors. of a single word in the presence of Father I have never known want. My parents Daniel." were good, and set me a good example. They taught me what is right; they taught me to pray. And you?"

Germans resident in the Kingdom
Frenchmen

66

Russians

66

66

Americans

Other countries

lower wages than their English rivals. | fore, so far as it is of any importance at The latter feel themselves handicapped, all, is confined to the immigration of Gerand being voters, put such pressure on mans and Russians. There is no doubt their members that the House of Com- that a certain pressure is felt from both mons ordered the Board of Trade to make these nationalities, all the more severe bea special report. The result is a memo- cause it is confined to London, Glasgow, randum from the able permanent secre- and one or two more of the largest cities. tary of the board, Mr. Calcraft, supple. The Germans are in great request as mented by another from Mr. Burnett, its clerks, because they know languages; as labor correspondent, from which it ap- servants, because they rigidly obey orders, pears that the real grievance is a growing and will do anything they can; and as immigration into London of Polish Jews. bakers, sugar-refiners, and cabinet-makers, The total number of foreigners resident because, in the two first cases, they will in England is extraordinarily, indeed, to do excessively laborious and painful work us almost incredibly small. It is nothing at the lowest market rates, and in the last like per cent. on the population of the case possess a special faculty of patience. United Kingdom. Indeed, if we deduct Hardly any work is as bad as a baker's, the Americans, who are not foreigners owing both to the heat and the loads to at all, and are never considered such, it is be lifted; and we are not surprised to not per cent., and would not, if it were hear that half the four thousand master equally distributed, be either noticeable bakers of London are Germans, or that or noticed. The figures for 1881, the last they prefer to employ their countrymen. year of the census, are: The pressure, again, from the Russians is upon one trade most severe. They are 40,371 16,194 Polish Jews; and with their German co15,271 religionists, they are not only succeeding, 20,014 as might be anticipated, in all forms of 43,790 peddlery, but they positively monopolize, as we should not have expected, the cheap 135,640 tailoring trade. Nearly the whole of the The increase, except among Russians," slop-making " of London is in their is exceedingly small, say two thousand a hands, and the same report comes from year, and the entire immigration is devoid other cities. They live poorly, work exof any political importance. It is nothing cessively hard as regards hours, compel compared with the immigration of Span- their women and children to work too, iards, Italians, and Germans into France, and have, there is no reasonable doubt, where they number more than a million, cut down wages to a point at which Enand help to keep the population from pos-glish journeymen tailors cannot, or at all itive decline; and not much compared events will not, consent to live. Our readwith the immigration of Germans into ers will remember many reports within Russia, which just now so excites the im- the last thirty years upon the really terriagination of M. Katkoff and the Panslav- ble condition of this industry, which, ist party. There is no foreign vote here though one of the most useful, is pursued which really tells at elections, except, per- under conditions fatal alike to health and haps, in a couple of London boroughs; to that decent measure of happiness which and the foreign press, though it exists, is all men, if only from selfish motives, deneither prosperous nor influential. The sire their neighbors to possess. A man very names of the papers are unknown to need not be a Christian to regret that a the majority of citizens, and even at elec- large body of men are so paid, housed, tion-time their support remains unsought. and fed, that fever is with them endemic, Of the other countries, a large propor- and that every man among them who can tion are, we imagine, Italians, who in Lon- think becomes a socialist, anarchist, or othdon are numerous enough to be visible, er deadly enemy of modern society. The keeping hundreds of small restaurants and condition of the tailors, always bad, as the confectioners' shops; and Scandinavians, condition of any class with whose labor who occupy a distinct place in the ship women compete usually tends to be, is ping trade. There is no feeling against now made worse by the influx of Polish either of these nationalities, or against the Jews, and is, we should suppose, distinctly Frenchmen, who for the most part, with less supportable than that of any other the exception of six hundred and forty- sedentary occupation. eight shoemakers, do work Englishmen cannot do; and the whole question, there

Still, what remedy is there except a combination in the trade itself, made diffi