of roast turkey pervaded the room. Suzanne was certainly cooking the bird. The curé sighed. Life is full of disillusions. "I wish I had not awoke," he said, a little peevishly. "The dream was nicer than this. I wonder what o'clock it is." He pulled out his watch. "Dear me, it is already five." At five the curé dined, and Suzanne was punctuality itself. At that very moment she put in her head. "M. le Curé, le dîner est servi," she said. The curé got up and walked across the hall into the other room, his diningroom. What a delicious smell! He tried to frown. Suzanne lifted the cover. Yes, it was true! There was the turkey, plump and brown and juicy, exhaling the most exquisite odors under his very nose. There was a terrible mental struggle. He turned at first very red the blush that waits upon a crime; then very pale-he was forming a stern resolve; then nearly blue - this was the strangulating effect of conflicting emotions. "Suzanne !" he exclaimed, in a tone of reproach. Oh, the Eve-like craft of the woman! "Mais, Monsieur le Curé commanded me to cook it !" "Cook it? yes," answered the curé, and stopped short. Are not ecclesiastics right in their dread of women? Is not every woman a born temptress? And the worst of it is you can never cure them. Here, for instance, had this abandoned woman been enjoying for years the advantage of living in the same house with a really good man, who had over and over again pointed out to her exactly what she ought to do and what she ought to leave undone, and yet all this did not prevent her from playing the temptress when a favorable opportunity presented itself. And the curé was so very hungry! "Oh," said the curé, "that is very, very wrong of you." He felt that it was indeed very wrong for, after all, if a man may not eat meat, he must yet eat something. He cannot nourish a treble chin on air alone. "It is very wrong of you," he repeated. Then, in sheer absence of mind, he took up his fork and began pricking the turkey with the prongs. Now, man is, after all, so much a creature of habit that I defy you to have a fork in your hands for more than a few seconds without the fork finding its way to your mouth; you do not consciously place it there the hand moves mechanically. So it was with the curé. "It was very wrong of you, Suzanne," he repeated once more. Suzanne noticed that the wrongdoing had now been transferred to the past tense. The fork returned mechanically to the breast of the turkey. All at once there was a ring at the front door. Suzanne went to open it. Presently she returned, her face flushed with excitement. "It is monseigneur!" she exclaimed. Monseigneur was the bishop. The curé started up. Suzanne noticed that the knife was now in the dish with the fork; so much progress had been made during her brief ab sence. "You have shown monseigneur into the study? Good! I will go there at once." He paused and then added, Apropos, Suzanne, you had better keep the door of this room shut while I am with his lordship.' He had already opened it, and was on his way to the study, when Suzanne exclaimed, "Mais, M. le Curé, will you not take off your serviette first?" The curé looked down a little abashed. Yes, the serviette was really tucked under his chin. In his hurry he had Nevertheless, he would not give way without a struggle. He laid down his knife and fork. "What else is there, Suzanne ?" he forgotten it. But how had it come asked. there at all when there had been noth "But there is nothing else, M. le ing but the forbidden turkey before Curé." him? It was certainly rather odd. 1 The bishop was gracious and courtly, but he was a disciplinarian. I have just heard," he said, as the curé entered the room, "of a very sad case, and I thought, as I was passing your door, that I would tell you of it at once. There is no time to be lost." "I am at the command of monseigneur," answered the curé dolefully. "It is a workman named Le Brun and his family, who have just come into your parish," said the bishop; 66 Rue de la Guerre, No. 8. He has fallen from a ladder, and grave fears are entertained. I think you had better go and see him at once. "I will go this very instant," said The bishop almost started at the the curé still more dolefully. The Rue spectacle. What! One of his clergy de la Guerre was at the furthest ex-feasting in this way on a Friday in Adtremity of his parish. It was perhaps vent! It was intolerable. Such enorfor this reason that the news had not mities might pass unheeded amongst already reached him. He had said that he would go that very instant, but he did not move. The bishop looked at him a little sternly. "There is no time to be lost," he repeated. Protestants, with whom there was no discipline, but in his Church it was different. He bore a sword, and he would not bear it in vain. He looked round. Suzanne had fled, fearing perhaps to be excommunicated "I did not like to leave your lordship on the spot. alone," said the curé. "Oh, don't mind me," said the bishop, with a smile. "With your permission I may remain here till you return. I have an engagement close by a little later. By the way, could you give me a morsel of food? I have had nothing since the morning." "Certainly, monseigneur. I will tell Suzanne at once.' 66 'But do not delay to go to poor Le Brun," said the bishop. "Suzanne knows me, and will not mind giving me a morsel." The curé went into the hall. Suzanne was there there was generally something to be done in the hall when the curé had a visitor in the study. She helped her master to put on his cloak, and handed him his hat. "Monseigneur will take a little refreshment," he murmured. "Dux femina facti," said the bishop to himself. "I fear she is a bad woman. A turkey in Advent! It is strange how many women are wicked at heart." Then he drew closer to the table and noticed the knife in the dish, and the fork still sticking in the turkey's breast. "Arrested in the very act!" he said; "in flagrante delicto. But not a mouthful eaten. That I should have come at that exact moment when he was on the very verge of the precipice!" He sat down, struck by the strange fatality of the affair. There was bread upon the table almost under his hand. He began to crumble it. Then he put a little into his mouth. He was hungry - he had had nothing since the morning. The bread he was taking excited the salivary glands and made his appetite yet keener. He wondered whether The bishop was close by, so that any Suzanne was going to bring him anyprivate communication was impossible. thing. He had spoken of bread and Then the curé went out into the dark-water, but in his mind there had been ness, and Suzanne closed the door be- the vision of an omelette. An omelette hind him. is innocent at any time, and yet it is tasty and nourishing. But there was keen. The turkey, it was clear would no sign of Suzanne, and consequently not be able to resist it for a moment. no sign of an omelette. "I shall be fit for nothing at this rate," said the bishop to himself very sternly. "I feel positively fainting. I shall not be able to get through my work." And still the turkey steamed before him, and every exhalation was a fresh testimony to its succulence. Poor, neglected bird! It seemed to provoke the knife of the carver. to implore the attention of some kindly eater. At last the bishop was so much disgusted with things in general that he plucked the fork out of the creature's breast. What business had one of his clergy ever to have stuck it in? Discipline must be maintained, especially in his diocese. He must give the curé a lesson but how ?" "It is Rousseau," he said to himself, "who advocates the doctrine that in education all punishment should be the natural consequence of the fault committed. In this case, for example, I suppose he would say that this man's fault would be most properly punished by some one else eating up the dinner he had criminally ordered to be prepared for himself. It is a pity Rousseau was an infidel, for there is certainly something in his theory." 66 "Yes," ," he repeated, "there is certainly something in it. But it could not be carried out in this case without a certain sacrifice on the part of some one else. And who is there to make the sacrifice?" Rapt in meditation, he bent forward across the table, as if he would consult the turkey itself confidentially on the subject. The odor that the bird sent forth was indescribably delicious. The bishop sighed. "Some one, it is clear, must make the sacrifice," he said. "If there is anything wrong in it the guilt must rest on the original transgressor." He took up the carving-knife and felt the edge with his thumb. It was very Yes, on the original transgressor," repeated the bishop; "it is through him alone that this complication has arisen." Then he took up the fork. "There is no one else to do it," he said; "it has been forced upon me. It would be wrong on my part to let him escape the natural consequence of his error. Discipline must be maintained. I alone in this diocese have the power to grant a dispensation, and I hereby grant it to myself." There was a half-bubbling, half-hissing sound as the trenchant blade made a deep incision in the turkey's breast; then there was a slight clatter of the knife and fork upon the plate as the bishop began the sacrifice. He ate slowly and sternly; he was discharging a duty, and he discharged it conscientiously. The dining-room door was still open, and Suzanne, peeping from the kitchen, glimpsed the solemn scene. At the end of a quarter of an hour the bishop rose from the table, looking sterner than ever. "I cannot eat it all," he said to himself, "but I have done my best. I have at any rate succeeded in reducing the temptation. The choicer morsels are now removed. I think the legs are probably tough." Then, without summoning Suzanne, he made his way into the hall and let himself out at the front door. Half an hour later the curé returned. "Has monseigneur gone?" he asked. Monseigneur has gone and has taken the turkey with him." "Taken the turkey with him?" "Most of it," said Suzanne. "He has caten it. Is it not very wicked?" "No," said the curé sadly, "a bishop can give himself a dispensation." "O, what a pity M. le Curé isn't a bishop! It was such a beautiful bird." Was! From Cassell's Saturday Journal. WHAT PARLIAMENTARY WHIPS HAVE TO occasion DO. 1890, on Ascot day, he lost control over the younger Tories, who tarried on the racecourse and nearly sacrificed the Compensation Clause to the Local Taxation Bill, which was only saved by four votes. Mr. Akers-Douglas remains chief Tory whip in the House of Commons, one of his juniors being Lord Arthur Hill, whose wife is the composer of many patriotic—or political CHIEF of the government whips, the Right Hon. Edward Marjoribanks, is credited with an "iron constitution," and he needs it. A whip has most onerous responsibilities, and they are not diminished when the majority of his party is a slender one, and possibly might be swept away by a catch vote. songs. He was controller of the An instance of the vigilance which the household during Lord Salisbury's adgovernment whip must be prepared to ministration. The second Conservative exercise was to be noted recently, when whip, however, is Sir William Walrond, Mr. Gladstone's majority was tempora- Bart., who has twice acted in a similar rily, on a division, reduced to thirty-one capacity when junior lord of the treasby the action of one of his own sup-ury under the late administration. He porters, Dr. Hunter, who opposed the has been in the Grenadier Guards, and proposals of the premier with the object is often absent from the House. Mr. of limiting the debate on the Home Austin Chamberlain and Mr. H. T. Rule Bill to Tuesdays and Fridays, and Anstruther share the duties of Liberal obtaining a day for the discussion of Unionist whips. The former models the payment of members. On that himself upon his father, Mr. Joseph -the evening of February 27 Chamberlain, even to the eye-glass and - Mr. Marjoribanks might have been orchid. The latter was second whip to seen in close consultation with the his party in the late Parliament. On leader of the House of Commons, the Liberal side the second whip is Mr. rapidly calculating the strength of his T. E. Ellis, at one time, by some, called available forces and that of the enemy, the "Parnell of Wales,” and who is so hurriedly making sure of the support national a Taffy that he makes his of the Irish allies, and fetching up speeches in Welsh. He also writes for every Radical from below the gangway. the Welsh press. Next to him in rank The numbers, after the members re- is Mr. R. K. Causton, who is highly turned from the lobbies, were very esteemed for his genial manners; and close indeed, but justified the principal | the fourth government whip is "Bobwhip's forecast. Mr. Marjoribanks pos- by " Spencer, as the Hon. Charles Robsesses tact, energy, and good temper, ert, half-brother to Earl Spencer, is and has always been popular. In 1885 he was appointed controller of the household an office associated with "whipping;" but when the members of the present government were in opposition, his chief was Mr. Arnold Morley, who, as whip to the Liberals, was considered a martinet of severe demeanor, and very "stand-offish" even to his friends. familiarly called in these latter days, his former nickname, "Bradlaugh's Baby," having been dropped. Between the respective whips there is frequently much negotiation; for example, the time of rising on the Thursday preceding Good Friday was the result of such consultation. Only the chief whips are in the confidence of their leaders. The juniors merely carry Curiously enough, the Right Hon. A. out instructions. On the government Akers-Douglas, the chief Tory whip, is side the chief whip is also chief patronregarded by most press men as unap-age secretary to the treasury a very proachable also, although he has been important office. In the absence of the called the antithesis " of Mr. Arnold ministers on particular bills he takes Morley. He distinguished himself charge of the orders of the day, and he greatly by the majority of ninety-two is usually one of the tellers in great on the Local Government Bill; but in political divisions. A whip, in the ex ercise of his duties, must have a pro- or circulars to their supporters, "ear found knowledge of human nature. He nestly" requesting their attendance. is responsible for making and keeping a Sir Wilfrid Lawson has explained the House, and preventing a "count out" meaning of the underlining of the word when it is not desired. The two junior" earnestly." If there is no dash it lords of the treasury who. generally means that there is important business assist him are expected to possess un- which may or may not come on that limited powers of persuasion in keep- night; if there is one stroke under the ing the sheep within the fold on critical" earnestly" it means that the recipient occasions. They stand at the exits to ought to attend; if the word is doubly the House, and no member of their underlined, it means that the member party can escape their watchful eye. If should come to the House of Commons; an M.P. wishes to dine out, or to attend if there are three strokes, it implies some private gathering or public meet- that he must come; and if there are ing, he has to "pair," or gain permis- four, it is as good as saying, "Come, or sion of the whips, who give him liberty stay away at your peril." Private memfor so long, and he is obliged to say bers sometimes issue similar " whips." where he may be found at a certain In big divisions the chief whip on each hour. On an emergency a messenger side is generally assisted by one of his will be despatched for the wandering M.P., to bring him from his dinnertable, his club, the theatre, opera, or wherever he may be. The whip has to cajole, to promise favors to come, to smooth ruffled feelings, and to talk over the wavering ones -all with the view of swelling the numbers of his party on a division, knowing full well that similar tactics are being energetically pursued on the opposite side. 1 juniors. It is the duty of the leading whips to act as tellers, and in the House of Commons their votes are not recorded, but in the House of Lords they are. The tellers announce the figures after the division. A government whip in due time obtains his reward. Mr. Arnold Morley is postmaster-general, and Mr. Cyril Flower, who shared with the right honorable gentleman the duties of whip to the Liberals when in opposi On the occasion of set divisions of tion, is now elevated to the peerage paramount importance the leaders of under the title of Lord Battersea. the several parties issue written whips holes " LEAD POISONING IN IRON WORKS. are exposed during almost the The British Medical Journal publishes a whole of their working day, and those on communication from Dr. Fray Ormrod the "pig beds" at the time of casting, that drawing attention to the occurrence of lead is every four or five hours. All these men poisoning among men engaged at blast fur- are apt to suffer from lead poisoning, naces, in which that peculiar form of cast often suddenly and severely. After a three iron which goes by the name of "Spiegelei- weeks' holiday it was noticed that four men sen is produced. This is largely used in were soon disabled: A., after working seven the Bessemer process for the manufacture shifts, B. and C. three shifts each, and D. of steel, and is got from a considerable four shifts. Some men have been laid up, variety of ores, some of which are apt to for a fortnight at a time, at least a dozen contain an admixture of lead. When this times in two years. Obviously the men enflows from the furnace, either with the slag gaged at these furnaces are exposed to even or with the reduced metal, it becomes oxi- greater dangers than ordinary lead workers, dized, and rises in a dense yellowish-white in consequence of the much greater tenfume, containing 64.5 to 74.5 per cent. of dency of the metal to volatilize at the higher lead oxide. This is very poisonous, and to temperature required for the reduction of it the men who are engaged at the "slag the iron. |