is true, with admirable precision, but runs down in the going and which could never have wound itself up; for left to its own laws and forces it can but gravitate helplessly and hopelessly and certainly to a condition of stagnation and of death. All the forces we know of in nature part with the power of doing work as they exercise it, to recover it no more. This is a fact recognized by all men of science. Whence then did that power first come? Obviously science herself replies, from a source of energy not spent in the using -in other words from One, who could give what he had no need of receiving. Although true knowledge rests on a higher basis than the opinions of men, yet it is certainly wise to observe the opinions of eminent scientists and it is well to remind ourselves that although the arguments which I have used in the previous part of this paper are certainly not those which find favor with those who present themselves most frequently as representatives of science, yet we have not far to seek among the foremost ranks of scientific men, in order to find witnesses of their truth. "To treat of God," says Newton, the greatest of them all, “is a part of natural science. The whole variety of created things could only unite from the design and the will of a Being existing of Himself. This exact machinery of sun and planets could not originate except from the plan of a Being supremely intelligent and Almighty." Sir Gabriel Stokes says: "We have evidence in the commencement of life on earth of the operation of a cause altogether beyond the ken of science. The study of the phenomena of nature leads us to the contemplation of a Being, from whom proceeded the orderly arrangement of the natural things that we behold." Professors Stewart and Tate: "We assume as absolutely self-evident the existence of a Deity who is the Creator and Upholder of all things." Still more emphatically speaks Sir William Thomson, of whom Scotland may so justly be proud, and under whom it has been my pleasure and privilege to study, he says: "Overwhelming proofs of intelligence and benevolent design lie around us, showing us through nature the influence of a free will, and teaching us that all living things depend upon one ever-acting Creator and ruler." Sir William Siemens: "We find that all knowledge must lead up to one great result viz: that of an intelligent recognition of the Creator through His works." Sir John Herschel: "The presence of supreme mind is what solves the whole difficulty. Will without motion, power without design or thought opposed to reason would be admirable in explaining a chaos, but would render little aid in solving anything else." Mr. Mivart, whom I have already mentioned: "The negation of God involves intellectual suicide." Other opinions of eminent men could be quoted, but this is enough to illustrate what I want. The investigation of the laws and harmonies of nature affords an infinite field for the exercise of the highest human intellects. They do not create the wonder there met with; it is sufficient for their glory to understand what they find. "What!" we may exclaim with even the infidel Didero, "can the formation of the universe be a lesser proof of intelligence than its explanation!" Let us not therefore be afraid of science, but regard it as a most valuable auxiliary in our great task of knowing Him more fully, to acquire the knowledge of whom is the great object of those faculties he has given. Far from regarding science as an enemy, let us welcome its' discoveries, conscious that as on the one hand, God alone can explain what in our present limited intelligence we are forced to term the "mysteries" of nature, so on the other hand every fresh truth gathered from nature is another witness to and of God. G. F. Phillips, M. A. MY FIRST TIGER. WE, that is the Major, Doctor, and myself, had been pottering about the outskirts of the Terai for some days, hoping to get news of a tiger. We had just pitched our camp, when our shikarri, Ali. MY FIRST TIGER. by name, came hurriedly to our tent, saying that the headman of a neighboring village wished to speak with us. With him were some of the villagers, who came . as a deputation, praying us to rid them of a tiger that was playing sad havoc with their cattle. The proposition was jumped at, and with Ali and two of his assistants I returned to the village with the headman. A wretched specimen of a bullock was bought for a few rupees, and was led out into the jungle. A good spot was found in an open space that at some time or another had been cleared for cultivation. A dead tree stood conveniently near the dense forest, and to this the bullock was tied, and we left the poor brute to its fate, while two men climbed into a tree to watch. Dinner was ready by the time I returned to camp, and the Major told us of some of his previous experiences with tigers. The Doctor had been on many a tiger hunt, but had never yet bagged one of the royal quarry. The fact of the matter was he was mad on ornithology, and he confessed that on more than one occasion he had been watching some rare specimen of the feathered tribe, and lost the golden opportunity for a good shot. 13 As we walked silently along the jungle path, for we had left the elephant at the edge of the forest, getting more and more wet every step from the dew-drops we shook from the tall grass or overhanging boughs, the whole line was suddenly brought to a stand-still. In front was the village shikarri, then followed the Doctor. The latter was the cause of the halt. As the Major and myself pushed to the front, we saw him cautiously pointing to a tree above him with one hand, while the other was stretched out for his shot-gun. "What the deuce is it?" asked the Major. "Don't you see it?" answered the Doctor, excitedly. "Where's that fool with my gun?" "Do you mean that infernal little bird?" questioned the Major. "My dear Major, that's one of the rarest finches. Where's my gun?" continued the Doctor, in Hindostanee. For the moment we were speechless, but the sight of the half-frightened servant coming up with the gun loosened at least the Major's tongue. He seized the gun himself, and turning to the Doctor, said, "Do you mean to say you are thinking of shooting that bird?" "Of course I am," answered the astonished Doctor. "And give the tiger notice of our approach? I've a hanged good mind to shoot you first," angrily retorted the We turned in early, and soon the camp was hushed in silence, but the forest was alive with animal and insect life. Thousands of stridulating cicada seemed to make the very air vibrate; while here and there among the bushes the fire-flies flashed to and fro. Above all Major. the insect chorus, however, could be heard the howl of the hyena or the bark of the prowling jackal "By Jove! I forgot all about the tiger." There was no doubt he had. As we entered the open space, signs were not wanting that the bullock had been killed, for sitting on the boughs of trees were vultures, while others were circling above in the air. As we came in sight of the carcass two jackals were seen Daylight I saw us astir, and with it came the welcome news that the tiger had killed our bait during the night. Chautahazri, consisting of coffee and eggs, was soon disposed of, and we climbed into the howdah, strapped to our solitary ele- running for the shelter of the neighborphant, and started for the village. Here all was excitement when we arrived. The headman had already mustered all available hands for beaters. Tom-toms, tin cans and short cudgels formed their armament, and it was a motley crew that marched out of the village that morning. ing jungle, while some of the carrion were gorging themselves on the corpse. The tiger had made a meal of the hindquarters, and we could easily trace its spoor down toward the nullah or water course. The Doctor, who had won first choice of stations, determined to take up his position in the fork of a tree that commanded the open patch, and also a short stretch of the nullah. The Major and myself had to make a detour to take up. our posts lower down the water-course, as in all probability the tiger would conclude to cross it, and seek for shelter in the dense jungle beyond. Half an hour saw us in position. The Major ensconced himself behind a rock, with a capital view of the now nearly dry river-bed, and a friendly tree in his rear; while I commanded a long stretch of the same, which just at the foot of the rock on which I lay took a sharp turn to the left. I also had a partial view of the patch that the Doctor was supposed to guard. Word was sent to the beaters, and I, at least, waited anxiously for coming events. It was not long before the silence of the jungle was broken by the noise of the villagers. and vanish in the jungle that stretched for miles behind me. I was peering into the thick undergrowth, when suddenly Ali touched me, and whispered: "Bāgh! bãgh!" (tiger, tiger) pointing toward the plot. Yes, standing out in the open with its head turned in the direction of the din and hubbub, angrily twitching its tail, stood a magnificent tiger. For some seconds-they seemed an hour-that tiger stood there some 200 yards from me, and then turned back into the woods. The noise of the beaters grew louder and louder, and I was beginning to fear that the beast intended to break through their line, when, almost exactly opposite me, the tall grass was gently pushed aside, and out into the full glare of day stepped the tiger. It started to pass down the nullah, but for a second halted on a slab of rock to listen to the noise of ts enemies It was a splendid shot. A sharp crack of a rifle, and then to my joy I saw the quarry lying on its stomach, tearing up the ground around in its impotent rage, and growling as only a tiger can. There was no necessity for a second shot, for as we scrambled to the top of the rock that There are few things more exciting than waiting to get your first sight of a tiger. Despite the knowledge that one must keep cool, the nerves got the upper hand, and it seemed as though the holding of the rifle steady had become an impossibility. Now and again the long grass that had concealed us, the royal brute rolled bordered the nullah stirred, as some deer, hog, or jackal, fearful of the din, would dash across the shallow stream, over on its side, while a stream of blood from its mouth made assurance doubly sure.-Harper's Weekly. BY WORD Not, though you die to-night, O Sweet, and wail, A spectre at my door, Shall mortal Fear make Love immortal fail- Shadow Houses. THIS tale may be explained by those who know how souls are made, and where the bounds of the Possible are put down. I have lived long enough in this country to know that it is best to know nothing, and can only write the story as it happened. Dumoise was our Civil Surgeon at Meridki, and we called him "Dormouse," OF MOUTH. because he was a round little, sleepy little man. He was a good doctor and never quarreled with any one, not even with our Deputy Commissioner, who had the manners of a bargee and the tact of a horse. He married a girl as round and as sleepy looking as himself. She was a Miss Hillardyce, daughter of "Squash" Hillardyce of the Berars, who married his chief's daughter by mistake. But that is another story. A honeymoon in India is seldom more than a week long; but there is nothing to hinder a couple from extending it over two or three years. This is a delightful country BY WORD OF MOUTH. for married folks who are wrapped up in one another. They can live absolutely alone and without interruption-just as the Dormice did. These two little people retired from the world after tl.eir marriage, and were very happy. They were forced of course, to give occasional dinners, but they made no friends hereby, and the Station went its own way and forgot them; only saying, occasionally, that Dormouse was the best of good fellows, though dull. A Civil Surgeon who never quarrels is a rarity, appreciated as such. 15 Dumoise broke down utterly at the brink of the grave, and had to be taken away. After the death, Dumoise crept into his own house and refused to be comforted. He did his duties perfectly, but we all felt that he should go on leave, and the other men of his own service told him so. Dumoise was very thankful for the suggestion-he was thankful for anything in those days-and went to Chini on a walking-tour.. Chini is some twenty marches from Simla, in the heart of the hills, and the scenery is good if you are in trouble. You pass through big, still deodar forests, and under big, still cliffs, and over big, still grass-downs, swelling like a woman's breasts; and the wind across the grass, and the rain among the deodars say: "Hush, hush, hush!"' So little Dumoise was packed off to Chini, to wear down his grief with a fullplate camera, and a rifle. He took also a useless bearer, because the man had been his wife's favorite servant. He was idle and a thief, but Dumoise trusted everything to him. On his way back from Chini, Dumoise turned aside to Bagi, through the Forest Reserve which is on the spur of Mount Huttoo. Some men who have traveled more than a little say that the march Few people can afford to play Robinson Crusoe anywhere-least of all in India, where we are few in the land, and very much dependent on each others' kind offices Dumoise was wrong in shutting himself from the world for a year, and he discovered his mistake when an epidemic of typhoid broke out in the Station in the heart of the cold weather, and his wife went down. He was a shy little man, and five days were wasted before he realized that Mrs. Dumoise was burning with something worse than simple fever, and three days more passed before he ventured to call on Mrs. Shute, the engineer's wife, and timidly speak about his trouble. Nearly every household in India knows that doctors are very from Kotegarh to Bagi is one of the finhelpless in typhoid. The battle must be est in creation. It runs through dark wet fought out between death and the nurses, forest, and ends suddenly in bleak, minute by minute and degree by degree. nipped hill-side and black rocks. Bagi Mrs. Shute almost boxed Dumoise's ears dak-bungalow is open to all the winds for what she called his "criminal delay," and is bitterly cold. Few people go to and went off at once to look after the Bagi. Perhaps that is the reason why poor girl. We had several cases of Dumoise went there. He halted at seven typhoid in the Station that winter and, in the evening, and his bearer went down as the average of death is about one in the hill-side to the village to engage every five cases, we felt certain that we coolies for the next day's march. The should have to lose somebody. But all sun had set, and the night winds were did their best. The women sat up nurs- beginning to croon among the rocks. ing the women, and the men turned to Dumoise leaned on the railing of the and tended the bachelors who were verandah, waiting for his bearer to return. down, and we wrestled with those typhoid The man came back almost immediately cases for fifty-six days, and brought them after he had disappeared, and at such a through the Valley of the Shadow in rate that Dumoise fancied he must have triumph. But, just when we thought all crossed a bear. He was running as hard was over, and were going to give a dance as he could up the face of the hill. to celebrate the victory, little Mrs. Dugot a relapse and died in a week, and the Station went to the funeral. moise But there was no bear to account for his terror. He raced to the verandah and fell down, the blood spurting from his nose and his face iron-gray. Then he gurgled: "I have seen the Memsahib! (mistress.) I have seen the Memsahib!" "Where," said Dumoise. "Down there, walking on the road to the village. She was in a blue dress, and she lifted the veil of her bonnet and said: 'Ram Dass, give my Salaams to the Sahib, (master,) and tell him that I shall meet him next month at Nuddea.' Then I ran away, because I was afraid. " What Dumoise said or did I do not know. Ram Dass declares that he said nothing, but walked up and down the verandah all the cold night, waiting for the Memsahib to come up the hill, and stretching out his arms into the dark like a madman. But no Memsahib came, and, next day, he went on to Simla crossquestioning the bearer every hour. Ram Dass could only say that he had met Mrs. Dumoise and that she had lifted up her veil and given him the message which he had faithfully repeated to Dumoise. To this statement Ram Dass adhered. He did not know where Nuddea was, had do friends at Nuddea, and would most certainly never go to Nuddea; even though his pay were doubled. Nuddea is in Bengal, and has nothing whatever to do with a doctor serving in the Punjab. It must be more than twelve hundred miles from Meridki. Dumoise went through Simla without halting, and returned to Meridki there to take over charge from the man who had been officiating for him during his tour. There were some dispensary accounts to be explained, and some recent orders of the Surgeon-General to be noted, and, altogether, the taking-over was a full day's work. In the evening, Dumoise told his locum tenens, who was an old friend of his bachelor days, what had happened at Bagi; and the man said that Ram Dass might as well have chosen Tuticorin while he was about it. At that moment a telegraph-peon came in with a telegram from Simla, ordering Dumoise not to take over charge at Meridki, but to go at once to Nuddea on special duty. There was a nasty outbreak of cholera at Nuddea, and the Bengal Government being shorthanded, as usual, had borrowed a surgeon from the Punjab. Dumoise threw the telegram across the table and said:-"Well ?" The other doctor said nothing. It was all that he could say. Then he remembered that Dumoise had passed through Simla on his way from Bagi; and thus might, possibly, have heard first news of the impending transfer. He tried to put the question, and he implied suspicion into words, but Dumoise stopped him with:-"If I had desired that, I should never have come back from Chini. I was shooting there. I wish to live for I have things to do. . . . but I shall not be sorry." The other man bowed his head, and helped in the twilight, to pack up Dumoise's just opened trunks. Ram Dass entered with the lamps. "Where is the Sahib going?" he asked. “To Nuddea,” said Dumoise softly. Ram Dass clawed Dumoise's knees and boots and begged him not to go. Ram Dass wept and howled till he was turned out of the room. Then he wrapped up all his belongings and came back to ask for a character. He was not going to Nuddea to see his Sahib die, and, perhaps to die himself. So Dumoise gave the man his wages and went down to Nuddea alone; the other doctor bidding him good-bye as one under sentence of death. Eleven days later, he had joined his Memsahib; and the Bengal Government had to borrow a fresh doctor to cope with that epidemic at Nuddea. The first importation lay dead in Chooadanga DakBungalow. Rudyard Kipling. |