half an hour after dinner and supper if possible, and if sleepless at night from brain-work, to eat a few graham crackers before retiring, to draw the excess of blood to the stomach. In reference to the practice of chewing gum, this statement is made: chewing gum daily before eating and between meals increases the flow of saliva, and so aids the digestion of fat-making foods. It also indirectly stimulates the secretion of the digestive juices of the stomach. We have no means of knowing, but we presume that Professor Hitchcock of Amherst, who is himself a physician, is largely responsible for this advice, and have no doubt that he has given it after, mature consideration. We fully agree with what is said in the instructions about the usefulness of food in cases of sleeplessness, and believe that many a person has been kept awake at night from a mistaken idea of the necessity of abstemiousness before retiring. This, of course, does not mean that late suppers are under all circumstances to be recommended; but a few graham crackers can never do any harm, and will often do good. In regard to the chewing-gum, we do not feel so sure. Besides being a practice which is from an æsthetic point of view not to be encouraged, it is doubtful whether, under the most favorable circumstances, it is really a benefit to digestion; and until there is some guaranty as to the composition of what is called chewing-gum, we should hesitate before recommending it in such unqualified terms.

The Instalment Plan.

THE evils, attending the nefarious "Easy Instalment Plan" to the purchasers by that method, have never been and never can be fully represented. Those who have suffered from it cannot, unless in exceptional instances, overcome the very natural diffidence and temerity which prevents them from giving their experience of the system to the general public. No one, as a rule, cares to state that through lack of abundant funds to purchase at once the articles of luxury or necessity, utility or ornament they desire, that they are compelled or persuaded to procure them by this less independent method. Hence it is very rare to hear any one making complaint against the men who gain illgotten wealth by this most iniquitous system. They prefer to suffer the loss of the goods and the money they had paid on them up to the time of their inability to meet an instalment rather than that condition should be made known to those from whom they would hide it. Others, believing that the ironclad agreement to which they give consent and attach their signatures at the time of purchase precludes them from receiving any redress, look upon the misfortune as one that must be borne and therefore no complaint is made by them.

Undoubtedly there are some cases in which the instalment plan has proved beneficial to the party buying, but they are so rare as to merely prove the truth of the old adage, that to every rule there is an exception. The overwhelming evidence of its iniquity lies in the proof of the

thousands to whom it has been a curse instead of an accommodation. To many a once happy family it has been the sole cause of the ruin and degradation which finally befell them.

A well-to-do mechanic told the following story a few days ago to a reporter of the New York Tablet: "Do you see that miserable-looking man coming out of that liquor store across the way?" said he. hangs around there from the moment it opens to the time it closes, doing odd jobs, such as sweeping the place and running errands for the bartender. All he gets in return is a drink of whiskey and an occasional dime. Where he sleeps or what food he lives on no one seems to know. But only a few years ago I knew him as a most temperate and industrious man. He steadily and successfully followed the trade of carpenter for the two years after he arrived in this country, and along with liberally helping his poor mother and father in the old country, managed to save something like $250. Out of this sum he paid the passage of his sweetheart here and when she arrived he dressed her up nicely and married her. After the wedding was over and they were located in a pair of poorly furnished rooms he had still $60 or $80 left. But he was earning decent wages, and he wanted his own and his wife's friends to see her more comfortably settled. He was bound to do it in the best and most independent way, by first earning the money for the purpose, when in an unfortunate hour he was induced by an acquaintance to do it on the instalment plan. So he moved into more suitable rooms which were then furnished by that method. He went to work regularly and soon had the principal portion of the debt paid when he met with a serious accident. A chisel slipped off a small ladder and striking him on the wrist, cut some of the veins and sinews completely and laid him up in the hospital for a month. Out of the little hoard they had, the weekly instalment as well as the hospital bill had to be paid, so that by the time he had nearly recovered it was completely run out. There was then owing $15 on the furniture. He was allowed a week's grace on account of his prompt payments and the week following he expected to get work. It was a few days later, however before the job was ready. He had been three days at it, when coming to his dinner one day, he found his wife expostulating with a man who was loading his wagon with furniture that he recognized as his. Not even an hour would be granted to him to seek and borrow the money, so his appeals were all in vain. The agreement was broken and the furniture was just as good as new to the heartless merchant who could, by selling it over again, realize its full worth along with the first profit. It took him a long time to get his little apartment in order again, but it lost the original attraction and the bar-room eventually gained him. It is hardly necessary to tell you what became of the wife. She struggled hard to keep him all right, but finally she became as bad as himself in the love of liquor. I don't know where she is now, but there he is, and no one could induce him to change his life now."

Every firm engaged in the business professes to do so with an honorable intention of accommodating the party making the purchase, and at the same time reap profit to themselves, and it is a fact that some of them honestly endeavor to do so. But though they may be lenient

to the customer in his or her failure to meet the weekly or monthly payment as may have been arranged, still if that inability is of any duration, they inevitably resort to the course pursued by the more heartless ones. But the misfortune is just as hard to the persons who lose both money and goods. "I went into, as I thought, a store which sells furniture on weekly payments and which bears the name of being easy to buyers," said a most industrious woman, the wife of a hardworking man and mother of a large family, to the reporter. "After a little while I began to doubt whether or not I got into the right place. But all my doubts were set at rest by seeing on the counter bills bearing the name of the firm with which I wished to deal. So I purchased what I wanted and came home. The payments were regularly called for, but one day, when the amount, which was not very large, was all but paid, the usual sum was called for, and I was not able to meet it. You may fancy my surprise when two days after I came home from visiting a friend and was told by the children that Mr.—'s man took away the things. I went at once and got the money requisite to clear the debt, and a friend accompanied me to the place. There we found that it was not at all the house it pretended to be. I did not want to get published in the papers, so after I threatened to tell the firm whose name they sold under, when they offered to send back the things without delay, and make a nice reduction for moving them, I did not take any further steps in the matter."

The Cardinal's Titles.

THE Pastoral Blatt, a monthly, reads a lesson to Catholics and others concerning "The American Cardinal and the Church of the United States." It says that some of the things appearing about him were probably meant and written in bona fide, but not with perfecta scientia. Thus, in an English-printed paper it is said: "He has been made a cousin of the kings." That is not so. The Cardinals hold so high a place that in Catholic countries they rank after princes of the blood, and before all other princes and lords, but they are not cousins of the kings." Then it was said that he had become a "successor of the apostles." That was incorrect. As bishop he was "successor of the apostles," but so far from being raised to apostolic dignity by the cardinalate, while Archbishop he was called Venerabilis frater by the Pope (brother in the episcopate), as cardinal-priest he is called filius by the pontiff. Others have spoken of him as "a vicegerent of the Vicar of Christ." This was only true when he exercised the office of ablegate, direct representative of the majesty of Rome.

Again, the title which has been given him by others, "The Prince of the Church of the United States," is incorrect. As Archbishop of Baltimore he is "a prince of the Church," prince of his Church of Baltimore, and as Archbishop a prince, an Archbishop and the Archbishop of Baltimore. Į

Rome has given the See of Baltimore the honor of a quasi-primatial See, but the metropolitan of Baltimore is not a real primate. When he had jurisdiction over the other prelates, as at the national council last fall, it was by specially delegated powers, and then he was "apostolic delegate." His elevation to the Cardinalate gave him no new jurisdiction, but powers in another sphere, so while he is "a prince of the church" as bishop, an "eminent prince of the universal church Cardinal, he does not outrank other metropolitans as "the prince." As for Mgr. Straniero, his mission was to bring the beretta. He was not an ablegate in the strict sense of the word, and in his trip through America he was simply a Roman monseigneur.

Extraordinary Apparition of a Priest.

It was at the dinner table of one of the highest dignitaries of the Church a man whose name, were I at liberty to mention it, would command recognition and respect wherever the English language is spoken that I heard the stories which I am about to relate. aware that to give the name of the narrator would add greatly to the value of the account with many minds, and indeed I have no reason to suppose that there would be any objection to my mentioning it; but I did not ask permission to do so (having, at the time, not the slightest idea of ever publishing the tales), and therefore I refrain. . . .

The second story which the bishop related to us was of a different character, and its events took place at a much later period of his life. It appears that on the day in question he had accepted an invitation to dinner at a certain house in one of the midland counties. Happening to arrive somewhat earlier than usual, he found, on being shown into the drawing-room, that the hostess was not yet down, the only occupant of the room being a Roman Catholic priest,- a complete stranger to him,who was seated upon a sofa intently reading a large book. As the bishop entered the priest raised his eyes, made him a courteous but silent bow, and again resumed his reading. He was a strongly built, active-looking man, apparently rather a muscular Christian; but there was in his face an expression of weariness and anxiety that attracted the bishop's attention, and he wondered within himself who he could be and how he came to be invited to that house. Soon other guests appeared, and the hostess came down so full of apologies for not being in readiness to receive her guest on his arrival, that the questions he had intended to ask about the stranger priest were forgotten for the time. When seated next to his hostess at the dinner table, however, they recurred to his memory, and, turning to her, he remarked:

"By the way, you did not introduce me to that interesting-looking priest whom I found in the drawing-room. Who is he?"

Then, looking along the table, he continued, with some surprise: "He does not seem to have come in to dinner.”

A very strange look passed over the hostess' face as she said. hurriedly, almost in a whisper, “What, did you actually see him, then?"

"Certainly I did,” replied the bishop; "but I beg your pardon. I fear I have unintentionally mentioned a subject which is unpleasant to you, perhaps intruded upon some family secret. I had no idea but that the priest was a simple guest, like myself, and his appearance interested me so much that I wished to ask for an introduction; but if you are anxious, for some reason, that his presence here should be concealed, I need hardly assure you that you may depend upon my silence."

"No, no, my lord," answered the hostess, still in a low tone; "you misunderstand me entirely; there is nothing that I wish to conceal, though this is a subject which my husband does not like to have mentioned. I was surprised to hear that the priest had shown himself to you, because until now this has never happened except to a member of our own family. What you saw was no visitor but an apparition."

"An apparition?" ejaculated the bishop.

"Yes," continued the hostess; "and one whose supernatural character it is impossible to doubt, for during the two years we have lived in this house it has shown itself perhaps a dozen times to my husband and myself, under circumstances in which either self-deception or imposition were quite out of the question. Since we cannot explain it, and are well assured that it is due to no natural causes, we have decided not to speak of it to any one. But since you have seen it, my lord, will you do me a favor?"

"Most certainly, if it be within my power," replied he.

"I have often thought," she resumed, "that if any one could be found who had the courage to address it, we might, perhaps, be relieved from its presence. Can you · will you- make some trivial excuse for going back to the drawing-room for a few minutes, see if the priest be still there, and, if he be, speak to him— adjure him to depart from this house-exorcise him in fact?"

After some hesitation, the bishop agreed to make the proposed experiment. His whispered conversation with the hostess having been apparently unobserved, he excused himself to her in a louder tone for a few moments' absence, and left the room, waving back the servant who would have attended him. It was with a strange thrill of awe that, on entering the drawing-room, he perceived the figure of the priest still seated in the same spot-still diligently perusing his great breviary, if such it was; but with unshaken resolution, he walked slowly forward and stood directly in front of the apparition. As before, the priest greeted him with a courteous inclination of the head, but this time, instead of immediately returning to the book, his eyes rested, with a look of infinite weariness, and yet with a kind of suppressed eagerness, also, upon the bishop's face. After a moment's pause, the bishop said, slowly and solemnly: "In the name of God, who are you and what do you want?"

The apparition closed its book, rose from its seat, stood confronting the bishop, and, after a slight hesitation, spoke in a low but measured voice:

"I have never been so adjured before; I will tell you who I am