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VOL. II.
When thy heart thankful with joy o’erflowlng
Sings a let brother prayer,
In thy joy, O thee thy
With share.
When the harvest sheaves ingatherod
thy Fills thy and barns thy with brother, store,
To God, to
Give the more.
Share with him thy bread of blessing,
Sorrow’s burden share;
When thy heart enfolds a brother,
God is there.
—Theodora 0. Williams.
A * LYING * LOVE).
I R. GREGORY
Gilmour, solici¬
tor, Wakefield,
in the County
York, was be¬
lieved by a
( number of deep
sighted people to
be one of the
’cutest lawyers in
England. He
was
more. He was
an astute man of
the world, who
dearly loved pleasure, but who had far
too hard a head to ever allow the un¬
ruly jade to run away with him. His
wife had died in giving birth to his
only son, Frank, and he was certain^
one of the gayest widowers Wakefield
had ever seen.
He hunted, he kept a liberal table,
and he made love with a reckless
liberality that not a little scandalized
some of the good people of his native
town. At the period of our story he
was fifty years of age, upright as a
dart, tall, slim, with a young, fresh
colored, hairless face. His appear¬
ance had not altered since he was
thirty years of age, and it appeared
probable that another twenty years
might pass over him without produc¬
ing any material change.
One day his son, who, without tak¬
ing the trouble to notify his father,
was about to marry the lady of his
heart, received a letter from his father
ordering him to go to Wakefield upon
business of the utmost importance.
When he reached his home he was sur¬
prised to learn that Mr. Gilmour had
been called suddenly away to tho
North. He had, however, left a mes¬
sage to the effect that his son was to
remain in Wakefield until his return.
He stayed in the pleasant, sleepy
little town for some ten days, at the
end of which period the post brought
him two remarkable letters.
One was from lady love. It con¬
tained three words:
“Goodby for ever.”
The other was signed by a Mrs.
Chambers, under whose roof Frank
had first met the woman of his choice.
It implored him to return at once to
Paisley. Some villain, she said, had
stolen Rosa’s heart from him, and tho
poor, bewitched girl had run away
with her new love.
Frank read these letters with
amazement. At first he refused to
belive that Rosa, whom lie had loved
with such- unselfish devotion, had
tricked and jilted him. He had such
faith in her truth and purity that it
seemed impossible for him to associate
her with aught that was dishonest and
cruel. During his tedious journey to
Paisley he promised himself that Mrs.
Chambers had been mistaken, and that
when he came to thoroughly sift the
matter he would find that his darling
Rosa had been wonderfully misjudged.
But when he entered the little house
his heart fell within him and nearly
all his hope fled. The good old lady
had so changed that he scarcely knew
her.. Her eyes were red with , weep¬
ing and deep purple rings surrounded
them. The kindly face was worn and
haggard and was sadly thin.
He took both her trembling hands
and pressed them gently in silence.
Then he led her to a chair and said:
“Tell me every thing. Do not spare
me one detail. I can bear the truth
better than doubt.”
Ere she could speak Mrs. Chambers’s
tears flowed fast.
“My tale is a short one,” she said at
last. “Dear, dear! it all seems like a
nasty dream. Sometimes I sit here
and fancy that her bright face will ap¬
pear before me as it used, and that all
that troubles me is but the wandering
of an idle, foolish brain. I am sorry
for you, Mr. Gilmour; indeed, indeed
I am.”
“Come, come,” he said; “compose
yourself, and let me know the whole
miserable truth. ”
“Soon after you went away,” said
the teftrful woman, "I noticed a great
change in Rosa’s manner. She be¬
came absent-minded, dull, and more
than once I saw that she had been
weeping. I pressed her to tell me
the cause of her sorrow, but she al¬
ways maintained that she was very
happy " and she had nothing to grieve
her, She went out more frequently
than she had been in the habit of do¬
ing, and often at inconvenient hours.
I did not care to chide her, but I con¬
fess that her frequent absence from
home perplexed me. Perhaps I ought her
to have inquired more strictly into
movements, and God forgive me if I
5; C r a P3 > News.
THY BROTHER.
IT thy soul, with power uplifted,
Yearn for glorious deed—
Give thy strength to serve thy brother
In his need.
Hast thou borne a secret sorrow
In thy lonely breast?
Take to thee thy sorrowing brother
For a guest.
did not take sufficient care of her.
Thinking that she would soon leave
to be your wife I felt that it would be
ungracious of me at such a time to
scold her or to oompel her to pay more
attention to her duties. One after¬
noon a gossiping woman, who often
comes into my shop, told me she had
seen Rosa walking arm in arm with a
gentleman in a little used thorough¬
fare in the outskirts of tho town. I
lost my temper, and I declared that
the woman’s statement was untrue;
Nevertheless I questioned Rosa on
the subject. She indignantly denied
the accusation, but something in her
manner convinced me that she was
guilty, I cannot properly explain to
you what a cruel shock this discovery
was to me. I was too upset to pursue
the subject then, but I resolved that
when evening came, and after the
shop was' closed and we were alone,
that I would strive to bring her to a
sense of her duty to me. But I never
saw her again. Within half an hour
after I had spoken to her she had
flown, and this was all she left behind
her.”
Mrs. Chambers drew a crumpled let¬
ter from her pocket and gave it to
Frank; then she buried her face in her
handkerchief and appeared to be dis¬
inclined for further conversation. This
was the letter Rosa left for Mrs. Cham¬
bers. It was written hastily and there
was a certain hardness about the phrase¬
ology that bespoke a heart numbed by
grief:
“You have been kinder to me than
my mother ever was, and you will think
ine very bad and ungrateful to leave
you as I do. God knows I have no
chance. I must go, and go even as I
go now. It is all for the best—for
you, for Mr. Gilmour, for my wretched
self.”
Ho it ended. She had forgotten to
sign her name.
"Is there nothing else?” he asked,
in a low tone—“no other clew?”
For some time Mrs. Chambers re¬
mained silent. After an effort she
said, though still hiding her face:
“She did leave something else, but
not willingly—not knowingly.”
“What did she leave?” he asked
anxiously.
After another pause she placed a key
in his hand, saying:
“That is the key of her bedroom. I
have kept it locked ever since she left.
On her dressing table you will And
something 1 picked up from the floor.”
She turned from him, for her heart
was so full she could scarcely speak.
He pressed her forehead gently with
his lips and left her.
As Frank went up stairs, lightly
holding the key she had given him in
his hand, he muttered between bis
set teeth:
“I will find the mau who has taken
her from me, and when I find him I
will kill him.”
He paused before her door. He
turned the lock with strange reluc¬
tance, and when he stood upon the
threshold of the little room, which was
still fragrant with the odor of sweet
flowers, he again hesitated.
She had gone and was unworthy of
him; she has proved truthless, and he
of all men should no respect for her.
Still that apartment seemed to him
sacred, and a feeling of guilt took
possession of him as he entered it. He
walked to the dressing table and at
first he saw nothing. Then he noticed
that a photograph was on the centre
of it, lying face downward. He thrust
his hand out greedily to secure it—
the thought running through his brain
that it was the likeness of the man
who robbed him of his love, and that
now he would not have much trouble
in tracking him.
He picked up the carte. There were
some words written on the back of it,
and these he read with a feverish
haste. ,As he perused them his face
became even more pallid than before,
and beads of perspiration stood upon
his forehead. These words were:
“Yours very dearly. Gregory Gil¬
mour.”
He let the thing fall from his hands.
As it fell it turned, and now it lay upon
the dressing table face upward. This
face was his father’s—the face of Greg¬
ory Gilmour, of Wakefield, solicitor
and esquire.
Mr. Gregory Gilmour, composed,
pleasant looking, and dressed irre¬
proachably, satin his easy chair, some¬
times smiling, more often studying his
almond nails. Before him—white,
passionate, a fiery indignation blazing
in his eyes—stood his son, speaking
hoarsely, and trembling as he spoke.
PLACE. GA., FRIDAY. OCTOBER 15. 1897.
“I swore in my heart," Frank de¬
clared, with intense though subdued
earnestness, “that when I discovered
the mau who had stolen her from me I
would [kill him. I had scarcely so
sWorn before tho horrid truth was
made manifest to me that the soound
rel was my father, and, being my
father, his villainy must go unpun¬
ished.”
Mr. Gilmour smiled.
“Well done, Frank! Quite melo¬
dramatic I declare. When I was your
age I would have done the same thing
myself; though perhaps not quite so
well—not quite so well.”
“Don’t mock my misery,” the
young man cried, impetuously. “It
is a hard, a bittter, a wicked feeling
to cherish, but I despise you, 1 abhor
your name. I wish to God" I had died
before I knew this shame.”
“Sons,” said Mr. Gilmour, with a
tinge of bitterness in his tone, “are
slow to pardon their parents’ errors.
This is strange, seeing how much
parents have to forgive. Even now I
am doing a great thing—I am pardon¬
ing your insolence. ”
Frank turned from the speaker with
a gesture of impatience and disgust.
“Come, young gentleman”—Mr.
Gilmour spoke authoritatively—“I
want to talk to you. Don’t run away;
so far you have had all the conversa¬
tion to yourself. You must now listen
to me. ” Seeing that Frank evinced
no disposition to remain in the room,
ha cried, sternly;
“Sit down, sir! While you are in
my house you shall obey me. ”
Sullenly Frank threw himself into a
distant chair, and his father again
smiled.
“I’ve a little story to tell you,
Frank. It is all about the young
lady you know by the name of Rosa
Noyce. Last year, while you were
away in Scotland, I became mixed up
with a very extraordinary forgery
case. The crime had been committed
in LondSn, but one of the principal
sufferers chanced to be my very oldest
client, and so it came that I was con¬
sulted about the matter. I need not
bother you with the details of the
case. The important facts for you to
know are simply these: The culprit
was a man named Morris, a heartless,
designing knave, who, unfortunately
for society, had the fascinating man¬
ner of a cultivated man of means. Men
of the world were deceived by his
plausible tongue and his elegant ex¬
terior, and he was particularly success¬
ful in blinding the ladies. Some time
before his conviction he had won the
confidence and affection of a young
lady of blameless life and good family.
Ho induced her to run away from
home to be secretly married to him.
Shortly after this union the infatuated
girl discovered the true character of
the fellow who had tempted her to for¬
get her duty to her father. She was
wedded to a penniless swindler of the
worst class. IVhat tho feelings of a
confiding, stainless girl would be
upon making such a discovery you
can perhaps understand. She re¬
garded her husband with abhorrence,
and she hated himself for e'ver having
listened to him. She resolved that
she would leave him forever. Taking
nothing with her but a small handbag,
she escaped from her husband’s house,
and was never heard of again by her
friends. Some thought that she was
dead—others, that she had gone
abroad. It happened that before her
marriage to tbiB fellow Morris I had
known her and her family, and during
the time we were prosecuting deceived him I
often thought of the poor
girl. He was sentenced to a longterm
of imprisonment. What I have to tell
you now directly concerns you.
Mechanically the young man did as
he was tojd. A change was slowly
passing over his face. His head was
no longer bent upon his chest. He
looked into his father’s eyes eagerly.
“My friend at Glasgow, in whose
office I placed you some time back, re¬
cently wrote to me to the effect that
you were making an ass of yourself Paisley.
over some obscure girl at
Mr. Redfern had seen you with her at
Glasgow, and it had come to his
knowledge that you had taken a house,
and it was pretty evident that you in¬
tended marrying her almost im¬
mediately. Since you had not thought
it worth while to consult me upon the
subject, I determined to see for myself
the woman you contemplated giving
your name to, I wrote to yon asking
you to come here, and I journeyed to
Glasgow. Mr. Redfern accompanied
me to Paisley. I was saved the trouble
of calling upon Mrs. Chambers, for in
the street we met the young lady to
whom you were engaged. To my
amazement I recognized her. She was
Mrs. Morris, the convict’s wife. ”
“I was afraid that was coming,” said
Frank, in a low, nerveless tone.
“I had always sympathized with the
girl’s unhappy lot, but my sympathy
was not sufficiently strong to close my
eyes to the fact that the bigamous
marriage she proposed would irretriev¬
ably ruin my son. I had more than
one interview with her, and at these
interviews I urged her to abandon
you. She said that she could never
look you in the face if she jilted you.
I advised her to leave Paisley. I pro
vided her with the necessary funds. I
had, I thought, at least saved my sou
much pain and suffering.”
“You must forgive me my violence,”
Frank pleaded in a scarcely audible
tone. “I am sorry for the words I
used to you just now. Still—still,"
he wont on wistfully, “perhaps I would
rather have been left in ignorance.”
“Wait until yon have heard all I
have to say ;” he smiled at Frank as he
spoke. “When find T saw Mrs. Morris at
Paisley I no idea that her wicked
husband was dead—”
. “Dead,” cried Frank, joyfully,
“dead?”
“Yes; dead. The foolish girl did
not tell me so. She imagined that I
objected to her marriage with my son
because her husband had been a con¬
vict, and not because I thought he was
still alive. It appears that lie died in
bis cell-”
“Thank God for that!” Frank mur¬
mured, forgetting how indecent his
gratitude was.
“Now that the girl is free,” Mr. Gil
ritour went on, “I confess I am indif¬
ferent whether you marry the young
lady or not. I may, however, mention
that within the past few days Rosa’s
father has also died and has left her a
large sum of money, nearly £15,000,
and that Rosa herself is in this house
at this present moment. ”
Frank started from his chair and
ran to the door. Suddenly he paused.
Turning to his father he said:
“On Rosa’s table I found a photo¬
graph. ”
“Possibly,” Mr. Gilmour returned,
dryly. “It seems that at one of our
interviews I dropped it—pulled it out
with my handkerchief, or something of
that kind, and she carried it home with
her, intending to give it back to me.
In a few days you’ll know who it was
‘intended for. I am tired- of being a
■bachelor. There, you mercenary
young rascal, go and comfort your
£15,000.
Ere his father had finished speaking
Frank had left the room. In another
moment Rosa was nestling in his aarrns.
“When I went to Paisley,” he
whispered. “I thought that you were
a Lying Love-”
“And so I was,” she said, dropping
her swimming eyes; “but I could not
——She said no more. His pas¬
sionate kisses smothered her words.—
Boston (England) Guardian.
WORDS OF WISDOM.
Truth is a rock large enough for all
to stand upon.
Caution is often wasted, but is a very
good risk to take.
V reasonable woman is one who is
iio?»:d.vay- unreasonable.
If some men were to lose their repu¬
tation they would be lucky.
The only really happy animal is the
goat. He can eat anything.
Children cry for the moon and when
they grow up they want the earth.
Open the door of your mind to good
thoughts and evil ones will be driven
out.
There are several things worse than
disappointment in love, rheumatism is
one.
The scientific study of man is the
most difficult of all branches of knowl¬
edge.
A person is always startled when ho
hears himself called old for the first
time.
Controversy equalizes fools and wise
men in the same way, and the fools
know it.
Little minds rejoice over the errors
of men of genius as the owl rejoices at
an eclipse.
Even a man doesn’t like to have the
preacher call when the house is all
topsy-turvy.
People get wisdom by experience. A
man never wakes up his second baby
to see it laugh.
Neatness, when moderate, is a vir¬
tue; but when carried to an extreme it
narrows the mind.
Life is a circus in which everyone
takes the part of the clown some time
during his sojourn.
Most men appreciate a joke much
better when some one besides them¬
selves is made a victim of it.—The
South-West.
A Wonderful Lamp.
It is prophesied that present meth¬
ods of illumination are to be super¬
seded by a lamp nearly perfected by
Puluj, of Vienna, one of the earliest
experimenters on cathode rays. For
fifteen years he has been working
upon it. Not only does it generate
intense Roentgen rays, but it also
transforms nearly all of the energy of
the electric current into light. Pro¬
fessor Ebert’s experiments prove that
a single horse power of electric energy
would be sufficient to operate 46,000
Puluj lamps. Professor Lodge, head
of the department of experimental
physics in Universal College, Liver¬
pool, says that “if mechanical energy
can be oonverted entirely into light
alone one man turning the crank of a
.suitable machine could generate
enough light for a whole city.” Puluj
claims that his lamp fulfills this con¬
dition.
Feathered Fear* In France.
All the feathered creatures in
France, from the barnyard hen up, are
in deadly fear of their lives. That is
because the Government has just for
mally promulgated a decree empower
ing citizens to shoot sparrows on sight,
As there is a considerable part of tho
community which does not know the
difference between a sparrow and an
oriole or an eagle, there is general
panic in winged circles, ___
POPULAR SCIENCE.
English scientists declare that the
chewing of gum is a solace for grief.
The light-giving power of acetylene
has been accurately measured, and is
found to be twenty-one times that of
ordinary gas, under the same pressure.
Though Trowbridge wrote this year
that electrouiagnectie waves could not
be detected more than one hundred
feet from their source, Marconi’s wire¬
less telegraph has already sent signals
eight miles.
Veneer cutting has reached such
perfection that a single elephant’s tusk
thirty inches long is now cut in Lon¬
don into a sheet of ivory 150 inches
long and twenty iuches wide, and
some sheets of rosewood and mahogany
are only about a fiftieth of an inch
thick.
A yellow or orange-yellow coloration
of glass is found by M. Lemal to take
place when the glass is heated to 550
degrees or 600 degrees C. in contact
with any salt of silver. Glass into
whose composition salt has entered is
especially susceptible of coloring in
this manner.
Experiments have lately been car¬
ried on at the Paris Academy of Sci¬
ences with a view of ascertaining the
influence exercised on the human
voice by giving the singer electrical
treatment. As the result, Dr. Mon
tier has established the fact that the
influence is a benefioiol one, the voice
gaining both in amplitude and qual¬
ity and being less subject to fatigue.
The observations of Professor Golu
boff, of Moscow, have convinced him
that appendicitis is not only a con¬
tagious disease, but that it sometimes
occurs in epidemics. It was unusually
prevalent in Moscow last year. To
illustrate, Professor Goluboff mentions
that in a small boarding school, where
in several years there had not been a
single case of appendicitis, he treated
seven cases within two mouths.
It appears from the experiments of
a French scientific mau that oak trees
are in more danger than other trees of
being struck by lightning. Beeches,
on the contrary, are not good conduc¬
tors of electricity. The danger of
trees from lightning is great in propor¬
tion to the electrical couductibility of
theirwood. Dead trees and dead wood
generally form a much better con¬
ductor than living growing wood,
which offers great resistance.
Shows All tl»c Fires In a City.
The toposcope is a machine that ex¬
hibits to the eyes of the observer a
whole city and all the fires that break
out in it. It is now in use in Vienna,
Austria. The toposcope consists of a
good telescope, which is solidly at¬
tached to an arrangement of levers,
while graduated sections of a circle
are arranged horizontally and verti¬
cally in such a way that the moving of
the telescope sideways or up and
down results in a change of the posi¬
tion of tho hands attached to the
levers in reference to the graduated
scale.
It is obvious, the stability of the
apparatuses being assured by their
being firmly fastened, that whenever
the telescope is focussed upon the
same object the hands will point to
the same figures on the horizontal and
on the vertical sextant, and, since an
index of the whole city has been made,
it is a matter of but a few seconds
when a flare is discovered at night to
direct upon the spot of the toposcope
on the respective side, to read off the
numbers, to read off tho numbers, to
look up the object and to wire it to
the central fire station, with all the
details observed. ‘■•41
Local conditions are necessary for
the successful operation of this appa¬
ratus, but in this case they are almost
perfect. St. Stephen’s tower is over
500 feet high; the great area of the
city is situated in the broad galley of
the Danube, allowing an uninter¬
rupted panorama to the city limits.
The atmospheric conditions are also
favorable. The toposcope up there
works so accurately that even at night
the exact house and number were
often given to the central by the
watchman on the tower, while the
next fire alarm box, being at a dis¬
tance of three or four blocks, could
not have given the exact location of
the fire, and this would have delayed
the arrival of the fire department ac¬
cordingly.
Field Glass Range Finder.
An improved range finder for field
glasses has a flat dial plate, subdivided
to correspond with the focus of the
glasses, rigidly attached near the rear
end of the adjusting screw; a fixed
pointer secured near the screw to the
frame of the glasses indicating the
adjustment upon a dial. A small
wheel upon the adjusting screw turns
it so that it will readily focus the
glasses for various distances, and en¬
abling the user to also estimate with¬ cor¬
rectly the speed of advancing or
drawing objects.
He Wants More Speed.
A Washington correspondent tells
of a Western Congressman whom he
once heard declaiming in a Washing¬
ton hotel about the new navy: “We
must have speed in our new ships,”
he said; “if I had my way about it we
would never build another cruiser
that could sail less than twenty
fathoms an hour!”
NO. 8
CIVE ME A LAUGH.
Give me n laugh, O World!
I care not tor your tears.
Give tuo your broadestsmile,
I’d live a hundred years.
And give me love and joy,
And give mo kisses true;
Felt me with roses red,
With laughter rippling through.
File high the fairest flowers,
And sin g me songs all day,
Pipe on a hundred reeds
Life’s happiest roundelay.
Give me a laugh, 0 World!
Away with frowns and tears.
With songs and joy and love
I’d live a thousand years!
PITH AND POINT,
A Kansas City woman has lost all
hold on her husband since he has
shaved off his whiskers.—Kansas City
Star.
“She is a decided brunette, isn’t
she?” “Very. They say her hus¬
band can’t call his soul his own.”—
Puck.
Doctor—“You’re a long time paying
my account, sir.” Hardup—“Well,
you were a long time curing me. ”—
Boston Traveler.
Morgan—“Do you believe a woman
will lie about her age?” “Shetland—
“About it? Oh, dear, no; nowhere
near it!”—Boston Transcript.
There’s not a’ thing her beauty mars,
She has most all she wishes,
She loves to grasp the haudie-bars.
But she will not handle dishes.
—Fittsburg News.
The millionaire who spent twenty
four hours in a ’Frisco jail because he
spit in a street car must be thankful
that he didn’thave a hemorliage.-—Buf¬
falo Enquirer.
“Was it a restful place out at that
country boarding house?” • “Yes; in
the parlor was a sign which read,
‘This piano is closed for repairs. » II
Chicago Record.
Miss Summerleigh—“Do you think
I read too much poetry?” Dashleigh
—"Well, the great dangei in reading
poetry is that you may be tempted to
write some!”—Puck.
With all respect to the hand that rocks
The baby in Its cradle curled,
’Tis the hand that rocks the miner’s pan
That Just now moves the world.
—Chicago Tribune.
Mrs. Cumso—“Your husband dresses
very quietly.” Mrs. Cawker—“Does
he? You ought to hear him when he
can’t find his collars, or his cuff-but¬
tons become mislaid. —Harper’s
Bazar.
“If I should fall out of the hammock
what would you do?” she asked. “I
would catch you in my arms,” ho an¬
swered promptly. “Get ready,” she
said with feminine impulsiveness.—
Chicago Post,
“Change,” remarked the thought¬
ful man, “is the order of the universe."
“And judging from the scarcity of it,”
said the practical person, “the universe
is a long way behind with its orders."
—New York Telegram.
Mr. Sbarpsburg—“What do you
think of Spitfire? Smart man, isn’t
he?” Mr. Millvale—“Oh, yes; lie’s a
smart man, but he ain’t no scholar.
He spells elephant with only one f.”
—Pittsburg Chronicle-Telegraph.
New Woman—“Simply because a
woman marries a man is no reason why
she should take his name.” Old
Bachelor—“That’s so. The poor fel¬
low ought to he allowed to keep some¬
thing he could call his own.”—Judge.
“I suppose that Longshot will be
too proud to speak to anybody when
he comes back from the Klondike
gold fields.” “Yon can’t tell,” re¬
plied Mr. Sinnick. "It all depends
on whether he is in a condition to bor¬
row or lend money.”—Washington
Star.
“John,” she said—and she looked
at him rather sharply as she said it—
have an idea that you didn’t be¬
have yourself very well while you were
away.” “How absurd!” he protested.
“What in the world has gi'Am you
that idea?" “Well,” she returned in
a quizzical kind of way, “I noticed in
the telegram you sent me you had paid
the regular tariff charges on the words
‘excuse writing.’”—Chicago Evening
Post.
Novelty in Cotton Pressing.
Probably more people go to see the
round-bale cotton press than any other
single object on the grounds of the
Tennessee Centennial Exposition. Its
fame has spread all over the country,
and the people are anxious to see the
wonderful machine in operation. The
round bale system is fav ahead of the
old way of compressing cotton, The
bales are small, compact, neat and
easily bandied. During the process
of baling the fibre of the cotton re¬
mains in its original shape and when
the bales reach the mills they are in
splendid condition. They are not
ragged nor torn; the cotton is not
dirty. It is the wonder of all cotton
men, and they declare it to be the
cotton press of the future.
High Price For a Book,
The highest price ever paid for a
single volume was tendered by a num¬
ber of wealthy Hebrew merchants of
Venice to Pope Julius II. for a very
ancient Hebrew Bible. It was be¬
lieved to be an original copy of the
Septuagent version of the Scriptures,
translated from the Hebrew in Greek
in 277 B. C. The sum mentioned to
Julius was $600,000, but the Pope de*
chned the offer.