The Bridgeport evening farmer., 1910-07-28
{Continued.)

her. Will you tell me Wha1 sne is Iike?"
 q am afraid I have not your gift of description, Signor Ricordo.
 The man with the fez looked at Briarfield steadily out of his half opened eyes, but not a muscle of his face moved. What he thought, it was impossible to tell, but that he drew his own conclusions was evil dent.
 .T have been told that she is very gifted, very beautiful, very pious," he said
 "You speak our language we'll" said Briarfield; "but for a slight foreign intonation. should take you for an Englishman."
 Allah forbid" he cried. lifting his hands beseechingly.
 You would not like to be an Eng lishfnan?"
 If I must be of one country, yes. But am of no country. If you have a country, you have responsibilities, duties, preJudlces.
 And you areswithout these?''
 would you have me assume them"
 without them no man lives his full life"
 with them he becomes narrow, insular, and what your poet calls .cribbed. cabined, and confined
 .They are the necessary limitations of our humanity
 Does not that depend on the pur- pose for which man lives. signore Besides, there are things which hap pen to some men which say to them, sMessieuhs. you are without country, without father, mother, friends, and responsibilities. and therefore with cut prejudices; live your lives in your own way" s
 That is impossigle, signor Ricor- do."
 And why?"
 "A man is always responsible to the humanity which he forms a part, he is responsible to the God who made him."
 Always to the latter. not always to the former"
 .sYou believe in God, them"
 The stranger was silent a moment. < An expression shot across his face which suggested pain.
 "A man might be what you call an atheist in London, Signor Briarfield," he said, with the grey. leaden sky. it's long lines of streets, and its my riads of men and women crawling ever each other like ants on an ant hill; but in the East, amidst the great siIences-no, a man must believe in God there. The sun by day. and the moon and stars by night, with the great silence breeding over him great God, yes."
 Briarfield was struck dumb by the quiet intensity of his words.
 This is man who has suffered" 1" he thought; but he said aloud, after an awkward silence, You are Mo- hammedan, I suppose, Signore??"
 T." replied the other, "I am noth- ing, signore, and I am everything Christian. Mohammedan, Brahmin. what you will. I believe in them all, because all postulate a devil"
 You believe in devil then?"
 Have not lived in London? Aye. and in Morocco also. But above all. I have lived"
 Had some men said this, there would be something theatrical, melo- dramatic in his words, but the stranger spoke so quietly that the others never thought of it.
 But here I rest" he went on, There is quietness. peace. A good of Rest for tired men, and I am tired. You have not told me about this lady, MT. Briarfield. She is a great phil anthropist, I suppose
 She is very kind to the poor," re- piled the young squire.
 And I am poor; am in her Home cf Rest. It is an experience. The place is like heaven after London; therefore I owe a debt of gratitude to my benefactress. Yes, and when I see her I will tell her so. But tell me. why did she build this placer"
 T know of nothing except what the world knows. She was anxious to befriend those whom such place ss this would help, 20 she built 1t. She also keeps the house at Vale Lln- den open; that is, she invites all sorts of people there as her guests. She has been Lady Bountiful to the dis trict."
 Distributes tracts, and all that?''
 "I do. not know. She has never given me one"
 She is simply one of these 'viewy' women, then?"
 She must have views, certainly, else she. would not have done what she has,"
 Signor Ricordo laughed quietly
 '1 think I see,' he said presently
 What do you see %
 Her motives"
 what are they, them" asked Briar- field almost angrily.