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Show . t . Dtest lri$b Hews - & : I , ' Antrim. - Mrs. Annie Cathcart of Sandrlng- 1 ham. Malone road, Belfast, who died on March 14 last, left personal estate valued at 34,442. I '- Donegal. I Most Rev. Dr. O'Donnell, lord bish- i s .p of Raphoe, visited Inver Parish ' church on May 11 for the purpose of ad- '. ministering the sacrament of confirma- I tion to the children in attendance, who I numbered over 230 boys and girls, t ' I Deny. I - Married April CO, at St. Patrick's Roman Catholic church, Dungiven, by I the Rev. J. McConologue, C. C. Mich- i - ncl McCartney, spirit merchant, Gort- I nagrhy, Dungiven. to Alice, youngest I daughter of the late Henry McCloskey, X. T., Dcrrynaflaw, Dungiven. Carlow. 1 ! The beautiful ceremony of crowning I two nuns, who have attained their gol- jj den jubilee of holjr profession, took I place at St. Paul's convent, Se!y Park, Iierminghain, on Easter Thursday. The I happy jubilarians were Mother Teresa I Pointon of Staffordshire and Mother. I Xavier Dowling of Carlow. After the ? high mass, bearing candles in their 1 hands, they were escorted to the altar to receive the jubilee crown, which was 2 blessed by the celebrant. Father F. Garrett, who also presented them with I ; ' staves decorated with flowers. Father Vincent Keating of St. Edward's, Sely ! I 6 Tark. Birmingham, preached on the oc-l oc-l ' casion. Dublin. I On May 5 there passed away, after a I short Illness, at her residence, Dublin street, Balbriggan, Mrs. Mary Hymes, at the ripe old age of 97. This much s esteemed lady had to the last a bright I and clear recollection of many historic I scenes she had witnessed at Balbrig- 1 ! gan, including the late Father Mat- i ' thew's visit when he administered the rlpdge. and the laying of the founda- tion stone of the present Catholic . $ church, and its opening. . ' ' ' Kerry. i It is not generally known that Dan- I lei O'Connell's piano is still in excel- I lent preservation, and is actually in I daily use for teaching and practicing I in the Presentation convent, Cahirci- veen. ! Married On April 2S, at the Cathe- I dral, Killarney. by Rev. P. O'Carroll, I Seminary, assisted by Very Rev. Canon I 3I"lyneux, P. P., V. F., Ballybunion, and Rev. James J. O'Sullivan. P. P., I Fossa, Richard, eldest son of Richard I Xash, The Square, Newcastle West, to I ' Julia, eldest daughter of Patrick O'Car- j (.in, j. jr., rnu ounion. -I Clare. I Died Recently, William O'Donnell of Dunmor Doonbeg. I A shocking accident occurred at the I Ennis railway station on Saturday evening, May 9, involving the death of 1 a young, popular and widely connected I resident of a Corofin district, Joseph I O'Sullivan, 37. Mr. O'Sullivan was I " making a short cut to the West Clare ! railway station platform to catch the I homebound train, which leaves Ennis at 6:20. when he was overtaken and knocked down by an incoming train from Athenry. ; I Tipperary. Dr. Gerald Mitchell. Richmond, Tem- I rlemore, has received the commission I of the peace for County Tipperary. I Died On May 13, at her residence, i Johanna, wife of Patrick English. New- I town. New Inn, and' mother of William f P- English. Woodville Terrace. Clon- . f rnel. May 1, James Morrisey, head of the firm of Morrisey Bros., Clonmei. t f Waterford. i The death occurred on May 12. at the exceptional age of 110 years, of Ed- I mond Ryan, farmer and cattle dealer, I ) of Carrick-on- Sulr. Up to a year ago I : I he was able to attend to his business I and ws seen in the local markets buv- I " ing and selling beasts. He was a life- f Iwg teetotaler and had a clear intellect to the last. 1 The death has taken place very unex- ijwtedly of Matthew Drohan, J. P.. Ballynevin, Mothel, County Waterford! The deceased gentleman, who was in t the prime of life, was a well known 5 public man, and extremely popular with all classes. He was throughout life a 1 Fiernng nationalist, and for a number I of years acted as chairman of the Car- rick-on-Suir board of guarlians, and "was a member of the Waterford coun- I i ty council. J The Glens of Clare. I R- O. K. in the Irish Monthly.) I for made the winding glens of Clare; I ; blessed the smiling glens of Clare; I J And virgins fair, I And monks of payer I ' Hallowed the lovely glens of Clare, f bless those glens so soft and green, t With many a brook and brake be-I be-I ' tween; 1 And sloping down 1 The bracken brown Purples the lovely glens, I ween. I Hod bless the guardian hillsides bare, f And all the ivied strongholds there; I Where sword in hand, I . . For Faith and Land, I Dalcassian did what man may dare. Ood bless those dells so quaint and I '"are. v..... iiuijivcicau iiirM img mere, I The peasants' cot Ik the dearest spot; I Ood bless Its lot in "bannered" Clare. od bless those gentle laneways thro', Where linnets sing and ringdoves coo, I And noontide's beam I And evening's gleam f I Linger, like me, to say adieu. i I od made the lovely glens of Clare; I . O'd bless the lovely glens of Clare; I And virgins fair And saints at prayer Hallow still yet the glens of Clare. Death of Colonel John F. Finerty. ' Colonel John F. Finerty. editor of the S Chicago Citizen, and known from coast to coast as an orator, soldier and Irish patriot, died in Chicago on June j 10. He was taken ill some six I . months ago. and his legion of friends I ; hoped he would recover. He was 62 years of age and leaves a widow and I two children to mourn his death. I John. Jr., is assistant attorney of the iNew York Central railroad, and Miss Vera is a senior student at Chicago university. Colonel Finerty was one of the most forceful and picturesque characters in Irish-American literature and of ac- live American public service. He was 1 ' '. J I - , . ' for a number of years national president presi-dent of the United Irish League and did effective work with voice and pen for the Irish Parliamentary party in their struggle for Ireland's freedom. It will be remembered by many that he delivered one of the most eloquent speeches on Ireland's cause ever heard in Columbus three years ago. His History His-tory of Ireland and other books will stand as a monument to his well-known well-known literary ability. His death will be a distinct loss to the cause of Irish nationality and will be keenly felt by the Home Rule party in the English house of commons. My Own Dear Land. (.Thomas Moynhan, in the Dublin Freeman's Free-man's Journal.) My own dear Land! There's none so half as dear o me; And while one chord's within my heart, 'Twill throb alone for thee. Tour valleys and your mountains bold. And rivers running free. Your wild glens and wild-rose bowers Are dear as dear can be. Your ruins old. that wake the Past Again to memory; Your hallow'd graves of martyred dead, Who died for liberty; Each blade of grass, once trampled o'er By chief and brave Ard-Ri, Will ever wake an ardent wish, My native land, for thee. Oh. let me see thee smile again. And hear thy harp once more Breathe forth the olden strains belov'd, Your vales and hightlands o'er. Your chains in dust that rankle now, Oh, grant mine eyes may see, AndI will bless the hallowed hour, My own dear land, for thee. Cardinal a Good Shot. The New York World said a few days a,go: "Cardinal Logue at a Coney Island shooting gallery scoring bull's-eyes gave an exhibition of ecclesiastical dignity dig-nity relaxed which it is agreeable to note. Whatever role the demands of the occasion have required the Irish primate to fill on his visit to the United States as direct representative of St. Patrick at t!e Catholic Centenary, Centen-ary, whether in the Cathedral celebrating celebrat-ing Pontifical mass, at meetings of the clergy and in public assemblages, at banquets, before the reporter's camera, at all functions, grave or gay, he has conducted himself with a regard for circumstances and proprieties which has won general admiration. The cardinal's car-dinal's frankness of mind and freedom from affectation, his Celtic wit and the glimpses of his human side beneath the church robes have combined to endear en-dear him to men of all creeds. The Vatican could have no more efficient legate in America than he has proved himself. The Light of Other Days. Oft. in the stilly night. Ere slumber's Chain has bound me. Fond memory brings the1ight Of other days around me; The smiles, the tears Of boyhood's years; The words of love then spoken; The eyes that shone, Now dim'd and gone, The cheerful hearts now broken; Thus, in the stilly night, Ere slumber's chain has bound me, Sad memory brings the light Of other days around me. When I remember all The friends so link'd together, I've seen around me fall Like leaves in wintry weather, I feel like one Who treads alone Some banquet hall deserted, Whose lights are hed. Whose garlands dead, And all but he departed: Thus, in the stilly night. Ere slumber's chain has bound me, Sad memory brings the light Of other days around me. Thomas Moore. i Calculating the Sun's Distance. For a long time astronomers have been trying to measure accurately the distance from the earth to the sun. Once ascertained this would serve as a unit of measure in exploring the starry realms. The stupefying precision with which these learned men announce the goings and comings of celestial bodies seems to indicate that an error of a few million miles more or less in the measurement of distances makes little difference in the perfection of their calculations. cal-culations. The calculation in trigonometry to obtain ob-tain the third angle and the height are made three months apart, which gives, a quarter of the earth's orbit as a base. But this process is very inexact, for in such i a vast distance an infinitesimal error in measuring one ot the angles would produce an enormous error ip the result. Kepler showed that if we could measure meas-ure the exact distance from the earth to one other planet it would give us data enough from which to calculate the distance from the sun to all other bodies of the solar system, and since his day this indirect method of measurement meas-urement has been employed, the distances dis-tances from the earth to Mars and Venus, the nearest planets, being the principal objects of the attention of astronomers. The results obtained until un-til a few years ago left a possible error of about a million miles. ' In 189S Professor Witt of the Berlin observatory discovered the planet Eros, which at certain times is only a few million miles from us. Fifty-eight astronomers as-tronomers at once took concerted measurements, meas-urements, and the Abbe Moreaux has just published the first results of this! gigantic work, which represents about 35,000 observations through the telescope tele-scope and 40,000 with a camera, all at the expense of the French government. The distance from the earth to the sun is jjiuvfu u.v ine nine 01 inewe od-servations od-servations to be 92.876,795 miles, with a possible error of about 56,000 miles, which error, comments the reverend astronomer, is insignificant, for it is just in the proportion of one in 1,660. The abbe promises us that when all the observations on Eros shall have been tabulated the possible error will be reduced re-duced to about 28,000. That Was How It Sounded. (New York Times.) A worthy English yeoman once exhibited ex-hibited a degree of Ignorance which was profitable to his spiritual pastor. The reverend gentleman in concluding a sermon ser-mon on some doctrinal point stated that such and such were his own views on the subject and that he had no douht of their correctness, yet he must admit ad-mit that other opinions prevailed, and certainly the commentators did not agree with him. On the following day the yeoman made a visit to the parsonage, par-sonage, followed by a stout fellow bearing bear-ing on his shoulders a well filled sack, and said kindly to the clergyman: "Sir, yo towd us yisterday i' yore sarmon th' common taters didn't agree wi you, so I've browt a sack o' the best Ormskirk sets o' my own growin', and I know they're good uns, go I hope yo'll accept on una." , ) Beauty That Lasts. Beauty is called a dangerous gift, not , because it is- not good to be beautiful, but because the girl who is pretty is ; almost certain to think that her beauty is all sufficient. With it she . imagines she can conquer her kingdom. She does not consider that beauty may " fade. It is something as difficult for her to realize as death itself is to the , young; it is far off, vague, all but imr possible. ' How is she ever going to look other than she does now, and still be her- , self? And at any rate there are al- ways the means to make the repairs of beauty, and sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof. And so, in an average of more than half the instances, she goes dancing i off about her pleasure like a fly in the J sun. as full of the present, as careless , of the future. She makes no preparation prepara-tion for the impending fate which Is -sure to come to her if she lives long enough. She relies on her fair face, her blushes, her dimples, her radiance, her smiles, her glances, her sweetness. To- please and attract is the aim of her life, and it does not need the cultivation cul-tivation of the. sterner virtues' for that. The pretty girl ignores intellectual cul tivation. Who cares for, syllogisms, lectures, instructions? she unconsciously argues from rosy lips. Who will stop to ask if the bright eyes have dulled themselves them-selves over dry pages of scholastic lore? Let who will be learned; it is enough for her to be gay and happy. What, then, has our pretty creature left for the dim passage of middle-age, when beauty has fallen away, but there still is left the desire to hold captive what once beauty gained? The time is coming when there will be deep crescents round the mouth, whose lovely curves have been dragged down by flaccid muscles; when there will be fine spider-web lines about the eyes; when there will be hollows in the cheeks; when the red and white of the skin will have become blurred and mottled mot-tled or overlaid with 'yellow sallow-ness. sallow-ness. Let the pretty girl remember that in the darkness of that middle passage the beauty that she had before she entered it will not signify; all faces are in the darkness together then, the girl that was plain with the girl that was beautiful. beau-tiful. The wreck of beauty signifies, then, no more than the wreck of what never was beauty. "It is the sweet voice, the kindly manner, man-ner, the burden of what is said, the tender-heartedness of what is done, that tells with any effect then. It will not bo long before she arrives at this time, which, in comparison to the blaze of youth, neighbors close on the dark; and she will need then all with which she can have filled her intellect in-tellect and fed her soul; all that wit and virtue and breeding can have given her. in order to retain anything of that kingdom to which in the'early days she felt herself born by right divine. Defective Sense of Beauty. "Modern women are extravagant." says Mrs. Ellen H. Richards, "but it is the conditions of our modern life, with its loss of personal independence, which are to blame for the extravagance." Mrs. Richards teaches in the Institute of Technology and is deeply interested in educational questions, particularly those which relate to economic and industrial in-dustrial training, but before everything every-thing else Mrs. Richards is a gracious, charming lady, who moves among her glass flasks and Bunsen burners of her chemical laboratory with the same poise and dignity which her mother probably showed in the linen room fifty years ago. So one isn't surprised to find that while the Tech teacher realizes real-izes perfectly all the temptations which the modern woman is heir to, her plea is not the overcoming of these temptations tempta-tions by mannish disregard of all pretty things, but rather a return to the old, beautiful ideals of living, which recognized recog-nized primarily that things were not really "pretty" unless they were also "good." She compared the women of today and of fifty years ago as regards the quantity and the quality of their dresses. "Did you ever hear of the Judge's wife in one of our Massachusetts towns?" she asked, "who had only three gowns?" Her gray eyes smiled quietly as she watched the astonishment of her twentieth twen-tieth century listener, and she continued contin-ued in calm enjoyment. "Yes, she had her morning' gown, in which she did her housework linsey woolsey, I suppose it was, spun by herselfand her-selfand she had the gowii which she wore for calls and at church, and then she had her beautiful brocade, heavy and rich and splendid why, it would stand alone: And it cost a great deal. because :t was such a lovely thing; but she wore it and wore it, and handed it down to her daughter, and even now it's the most precious dress of the daughter's daughter. "But compare with that inventory the gowns of a woman of today. She must have her morning dress, which she can never wear in the afternoon; she must have gowns for street wear, for dinners, din-ners, for receptions, for dances, for lectures. lec-tures. And yet she hasn't one really nice dress out of the lot how can she, when she mupft have so many? "It's this desire for the show of things and not for the real goodness underneath that is the greatest extravagance extrav-agance of modern women," declared Mrs. Richards with increasing fervor. "Instead of getting one nice gown, which will last for years and years, we get these slazy stuffs which pull to pieces before the season is over. And the reason is that our sense of beauty is defective." The religion of faithful service may not be as showy or as productive of divergent doctrines as some other sorts; out without it we should be in a sorry state, and many a harvest-time harvest-time heat would engender a thirst that could not be quenced with the cold of snow. |