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The Exeter Advocate, 1894-8-23, Page 7• THE SELECT STORY TELLER SHOAT, BRIGHT FICTION tie Latest Stories By Popular, Well - Known Authors. Light Reading For the Boys and:Girls. 11rOUNTEBAN1i'S LOVE.. HERE were all sorts of ru- more about her. One was that she was the daughter of a famous Southern states- man, and had gone on the stage to retrive the fallen fortunes of the family. An- other dubbed her a daughter of the slums who had made her first appearance in an ;Fast Side dive. Still another declared she had been married three times and divorced twice. No one knew'the truth. Everybody told a different tale At all events her picturesque person- ality was an interesting feature of metro- politan life. No one was written of and talked about so much that season, Every- where she went she was pointed out and whispered about. Her gowns, her jewels, her dogs and her lace petticoats were good for columns of "slush" in the dra- ematle papers. V hether supping at Del's with one of her many admirers, whether ;lying back in her Victoria in the Park, her priceless laces and silks gathered about her, her dainty feet reposing on the great clusters of violets: with which her carriage floor was strewn, or in her 'box at the races, surrounded by many of ,the best known men about town, mur- Inuring all sorts of passionate love under her pink parasol, Beatrix Osmond, comic opera queen and fascinating woman, was •ever the center of attraction and gossip. 'And when the summer was done and 'the fall season had opened; when critics had praised her marvelous voice and the town had gone wild over her shape, her acting and her flawless face, Beatrice, at the summit of her career, with everyone 'at her 'feet, every wish and ambition gratified laughed in the faces of the n• en snaking desperate vows to her, drove her manager to drink by her whims and cap- irices and yawned with ennui. "Any life would be better than this," she mused as she stood one day looking oat the window at the slowly falling snow, dropping quietly and sadly down like the tears of a .4orrowing woman. The room in which she stood was a luxurious nest, with its cushions, divans, silken hangings, perfumes and flowers. Over a chair hung a man+le of fur fit for a duchess. On the dressing table glisten- ed the sheen of silver and the polish of ivory. An open fire gave the finishing touch of comfort, and before it was drawn a, velvet couch heaped high with cush- ions, from the luxurious ease of which she had just risen. But instead of reveling in this delight- ful sybaritish room, Miss Osmond con- tinued to stare out the window at the snow sifting down, down into the filth and mud of the streets, where it was speedily trodden out of sight under the heels of the passers-by. What did Beatrix see through the misty veil of those slow dropping snow- flakes ? Many things. An old-fashioned garden choked with -weeds and brambles ; an old red farm house, the doors and windows of which were nailed up, two graves on a hillside on which the snow was falling—fall- ing— Miss Osmond gave a little start and turned from the window. The rosy fire light danced and beckoned to her ; the spacious couch held seductive arms to her ;; the lilies on the mantel, the orchids on the table nodded and smiled at her. She paid no heed, but went over to her desk and opening a drawer took out a time -stained envelope and carefully open- ed it. From it dropped two looks of hair —both gray—one short and bristling— the other — a long curling tress. She stared blindly at them for a moment, and over her pretty, painted cheeks tears slowly dropped, even as the snow was dropping down over those two lonely ,graves, far away on the bleak New Eng- land hillside. * * * Tom Bohannon, mountebank was Bea- trix's most devoted admirer. He chanced 'to be, for the moment, the favorite jester •of the fickle town. He was so hopelessly ugly he was fascinating. Popular, too, ,especially with the gilded youth, who like to be seen in the company of well- known actors. Tom was a rounder, un- questionably, but in spite of his stormy, reckless existence, down deep in his heart he had kept an ideal or two. From the moment he set eyes on this ravishing woman he loved her, knowing full well 'that his passion was absolutely hopeless. Cupid' and Tom Bohannon! Preposter- ^ons pair ! Strangely enough, however, this dis- dainful beauty, who spurned men's hearts like footballs, was always gentle to old Tom. His touching devotion—the devo- tion of a dog—moved her far more than the savage pursuits and the deliberate, skillfully -directed sieges of which she was the object. Nothing delighted her more than to thwart the consummate deviltry which everywhere encompassed her The roues of the town were on their mettle. All sorts of traps were set for (her; all sorts of gilded propositions made her. Beatrix continued to lead her pur- suers to the very threshold of love ; then -.coolly locking the door in their faces, mocked at them from the window. Bub to poor old Bohannon she was always a:gentle as a sister. Tom wanted Trix to leave the stage. "You've got a great start," he was wont to say. "`Your voice is superb and your beauty has carried the town by storm, "but you are not one of us. You are as proud as a princess. You walk over the necks of the crowd. You must marry. Go over to London and pick out a duke. pd marry you myself Trix, poor buffoon —mountebank that I am," with mock heroics, "were it not for the fact that . I'm wedded to my art." All this, with a glass of champagne in mile on his lips hand, a s and an ache in his battered. old heart. One snowy March morning as Trix sat at the piano running over some new music which had just been sent her, Bohannon was shown in, looking in his flake -strewn fur coat like a big Polar bear. ''Hallo, little girl," he cheerfully called. "Well, you are simply out of sight this . morning.Gad I that's a pretty gown. Where dad you get the flowers ?,plung- ing his long nose into the mass of white lilies on the piano. "I bought them myself." said Trix. "Never !" cried Tom, "it isn't possible athatyou have come to that." "Yes," said the girl, "I bought them because they remind me of—of my old home. There wasa great elumpof them. under mother's window." It was the first time that .Bohannon had ever heard Trix refer to her past life and something in her face forbade any ques- tions or jests. • But, thinking to direct her thoughts from the sombre channel, toward which they appeared to be drift- ing, he rattled on at a likely pace, retail- ing the gossip of the Rialto. " 1 had a deuce of a shock this morn- ing," he said, "thought I'd struck a bloomin' ghost after hoping to see one walk for quite a spell. Do you remark ray witticism, Miss Osmond? It's posi- tively my latest. But to my ghost, or. rather my man, for it was substantial flesh and blood after all. I don't believe you ever knew him. No, he was before your time surely. But Lord ! Lord ! how he used to set the town ablaze when he played Armand to .Nelly Dorchester's "Camille." ` He's just back from Aus- tralia—handsomer than ever—I declare he looks like a prince of die blood. royal.": Who is this phenomenon?" demand- ed Miss Osmond, turning languidly around on. the piano stool and idly drum- ming with one hand on the keys. " Charlie Singleton," replied Bohan- non, helping himself to a sprig of white lilies for his coat; "here, Trix pin this on for me. Did you know him A?" " Charlie Singleton?" said Beatrix in a queer voice. "Tom, you must be mis- taken." ' No, child. It was Singleton sure. We walked two blocks together and had a cocktail—why, Trix, how your hands tremble. Good God! what is it?" He caught her in his arms, for he thought she was falling. But in a mo- ment she recovered her self-possession and went on fastening the spray of lilies in his coat. And what do you think he told mo ? You see, Charlie never got on with his wife. That was the reason he went out to Australia. Two months ago his wife died, and he posted home to look after the child—a sweet, bright little girl." Miss Osmond's nerves werehammering now, and the blood was rushing to the white face bent over the lily. Tom gabbled on : "It seems he isn't dis- couraged, though, for he's going to marry again, and never could you guess the girl. It's this English soubrette that's coming over to join your company— what's her name ? Gwendolin Clarendon —he met her in Sidney—" "Tom, Tom," a sharp cry of agony broke from the lips of a woman who had flouted so many lovers, "stop, stop, I can't bear it," " Trix, what is this ?" " I loved him long ago," she said, mournfully. " I broke my mother's heart—my father died insane from grief —I was only a girl—an innocent, trust- ing girl—Tom, he is the man who made me the woman I am, selfish, heartless, soulless." Tom sat down by the table and took his head between his hands. What de- spairing thoughts swept through his brain ? For a moment he thought he was dyingg. You loved him," he said dully, "and he spoke of you this morning. Said he had a great curiosity to see you—had heard so much of your beauty. He's go- ing to appear at the Thespian Hand benefit next week—I suppose he'll speak to you—you'll talk over old times"—he started up fiercely at her cry of pain. " No, no," she moaned, "Oh, Tom, dear Tom, you are the only friend I have on earth. I beg you never let him ap- proach me—never let him touch me." There was a gasp, a sigh, silence. Like a lily broken from its stalk, the girl huddled in an unconscious little heap at Bohannon's feet. * * It was a great bill that was offered that season at the annual benefit performance of the Thespian Hand Society. The famous and frail French actress, whose art and amours had set the town agog, appeared in one act of "Thedre" ; there was the Spanish dancer, who wrig- gled and stamped and kicked higher than Guilderoy's kite ; there was the favorite comedian, Mr. Tom Bohannon, in some original sketches; the members of Jardine & Lennox's Comic Opera Company, in- eluding Miss Beatrix Osmond, gave one entire act from the new opera "Pyramus and Thisbe ; and according to the bills the occasion was the reappearance of Mr. Charles Singleton, just returnedlrom a highly successful Australian trip. . The house was packed. There was scarcely an inch of standing room. The boxes were filled with well-known people, professionals, men about town, young fools and chorus girls, dramatic critics and divorcees. Miss Osmond, as "Thisbe," received an ovation. She went through her role as though inspired. Long after the sweet tones of her lovely voice .echoed in many a heart. Never had she looked so beau- tiful. Her cold, statuesque, marble -like loveliness was especially remarked. " She looked like an angel," a ballet girl said afterward. Immediately upon the conclusion of the scene from "Pyramus and Thisbe," the stage was set for the historic drama in which Singleton was to make his re- appearance. The house fairly rose at him, the old idol, who had been away so long. Flowers were tossed him, and jewelled hands saluted him. Beatrix stood in the wings watching him, handsome, graceful, full of divine fire, a little older and grayer than in the old days, but, oh God ! how dear. She idly marked his superb costume. It was very pretty. The lace on his sleeve was worth a small fortune. How still the hour. ' What was that noise ? She looked up. Singleton stood directly under the huge piece of "batting" which came crashing down from the flies. He would surely have been killed had not that slight figure rushed from the wings, pushed him one side, and then gone, face$ownwards, un- der the heavy wooden footpiece of a drop. A groan ran through the house as the audience half rose. There' was a mo- mentary glimpse of a motley crowd rush- ing from all the wings upon the stage; ballet girls in flimsy skirts; minstrels pale through their burnt cork • the great act: herself renswringing her ha g ids and pouring forth French hysterics and pro. falsity. Then the curtain fell. The orchestra struck up a popular topical song, but ceased after a bar or two when Dick Adams, the stage manager, came before the eurtain and said in a dazed sort of way that, owing to the deplorable acci- dent which had just occurred, the per- formance would be concluded at once, Behind scenes all was confusion and chaos. The physician summoned from the audience held a limp, little white band in his a moment, slowly shook his head and said gravely to the terror- stricken group about : it's all over." v There is a tangible mass of soft white draperies, whosesaaowy surface was stain- ed with blood, lay Boatrix, dead;. Across her sweet breast was a spray of °rushed white lilies, whose fragrance, more over- powering in dying, stole softly upward. At her side, his hands flinched, his face ghastly with horror, stood the man for whom she had given her young life. He knew that lovely face reproaching him with piteous, sightless eyes—with a groan he stooped to lift her to his heart. But a man with a face as livid as his own and blazing eyes, thrust him back. "Po not dare to touch her," ho said. With au oath Singleton turned on him, but Bohannon added, almost in a whisper : " She asked me once never to let you touch her and -I shall keep my promise to the dead." There is another grave on the lonely hillside far away behind the desolate farmhouse and the old-fashioned garden full of weeds. At its head every spring bloom stately, odorous white lilies, and over it falls the snow as quietly as the tears fall down a woman's cheeks. And the only visitor this lonely grave ever has is anugly-faced buffon—a fellow of infinite jest, whose quips and gambols aro wont to set the table in a roar. A Woman's Exper1eneein a Strike. A very clever woman on the north side, Chicago, has had an experience with the strike. This is the way she tells it : " I wanted my rugs shaken, and told my domestic to look out for a man. She soon reported that one was belo w. and I went to tell him what Iwanted, Be was a typical Hibernian laborer, with a brogue that was almost an impediment to his speech. I made a contract with him, but he said he must have an assistant in or- der to do the work satisfactorily. I bold the girl to get an. assistant, and a few minutes later she told me there was an- other man below, and I went to see him. He was a very black negro. I engaged him and told the girl to show him where the other man was at work. I returned' to my room, only to be called below again by my girl, who said there was trouble. When I got down stairs there was the Irishman at my door. ' Ye got a naygar to assist me in the baitin av the car -pit," he said. " I told him I had employed a eolored man to help him. " Well, dy'e think Oim goin to wur- ruk wid a naygar? Oim purty low down, but Oim dommed ef Oim low enough to wur-ruk wid a navgar.' " I was anxious to have the work done, and reasoned with him. I offered to give him extra pay, and to pacify him I paid him in advance. With that I returned to my room, only to be called down 'again. This time it was the colored man. "' Sense me, missus," he said, ' but dat dar Arshman axed me ef I were a membah of de union. I tole him dat I were workin' foh myself jes now, and he axed me foh to go to de saloon an' brung him some whiskey. I tole -'im I wa'n't no drunkard, an' he called me a dom'd niggah, an' said he'd have my hawt's blood ef I didn't go. I'm a niggah•and I can't help dat, but ain't gwine to shake no cairpets wif an Arshman. He buse me cause I done tole him I doan't know noffin about dem clannygalls.' " I gave him extra pay and sent him back to work. In less than a half hour the patrol waggon was in front of my door, and the officer in charge said he had just received word that there was a riot in my back yard. I told him how to get there, and a few minutes laterl saw them walking the Hibernian to the waggon. The colored man had to be carried. I telephoned to my husband and he said he would telephone to Gen. Miles to send up a company of regulars. And forget- ting that my husband was a humorist I pulled down the blind's, had all the doors locked and retired in a state of nervous prostration. I do not wonder that the city is paralyzed over this strike. I am almost paralyzed myself." Daily Duties. Life, for the most part, is made up of what we call ordinary duties. Our bless- ed Lord might have performed great miracles every hour; he might have il- lumined night with the light of noonday; or have drawn the curtain of darkness over the face of the sun at noonday. He might hourly have shaken the world with great earthquakes, but He did not use His divine power in any one of these ways. Much of His work was of the humblest kind. He often addresses audi- ences of one person, and to such listeners He uttered some of His deepest and heavenliest truths. He did the work of a Sunday school teacher toward the two disciples on their way to Emmaus; and He went after the man cast out of the synagogue with the sympathy of such a teacher after an absent pupil. On the morning of His glorious resurrection He took pains carefully to lay the napkin that had been about His brow 111 a place by itself. He would not leave the grave in a state of confusion. His example is most valuable to us at all these points. In daily duty there may be the den of lions and the furnace heated seven times hotter than it is wont to be heated. There is oftener greater heroism in performing the duties of our humdrum life than in the so-called great occasions of heroie en- deavor. A Rush at Night of 4,000 Cattle. Mr. Fulton relates an experience he un- derwent on the ranch in Nevada of Rus- sell & Bradley. The firm had about 4,000 head of cattle, and, as the supply of hay was running low, that which was on hand was stacked and surrounded by a fence, and was doled out to the cattle in small wisps, just sufficient in quantity to barely keep the animals alive. Mr. Fulton states that one night after every- body on the ranch had retired they were awakened by a low, rumbling noise which sounded like the approach of some great atmospheric disturbance. Becom- ing Iouder, the men discovered it to be the lowing and bellowing of the cattle, who were soon making a hideous noise. Hastily dressing themselves, the men hurried forth to ascertain thecause of the trouble, but before they had reached the herd. the vast body of animals had hurled themselves against the fence surrounding the stacks of hay, and were piled in a compact, struggling mass which had literally levelled the hay from view. Nothing could be done with the cattle at the time, and the next morning an in- vestigation disclosed that 850 head had been literally tramped to death in the mad rush of the excited herd for the tempting stacks of hay. Herat, in. Afghanistan, is the city which has been most often' destroyed, Fifty-six tithes have its walls been laid in ruins, and the same number of time have they been erected again" MISCELLANEOUS READ( G GRAYE AS. wUI4L AS GAY. Reading For Leisure Moments i'or Old and Young, Interisting and. ProtIta- bie. A Railroad Through the Farm .. There's thet black abomernation, Chet big loco- motive there, Its smoke -tali like a pirut flag, awavin' through • the air ; An'Imys'so1, twelve times a day, and never raise any arm An'see that fret, black monster go a-snortin' tarougbmy farm. I ry fapilther'sggrirn farmstock— , my grandsir's farm—X come of My great -great -great -great grandsir's farm, way back to Plymouth Rock ; Why, bacfamilky in natheme, sixteen hundreds it winin our An' no man dared to trespass till that tootin' railroad came. 1 sez, "You can't go through this farm, you hear it fiat an' plain l" An' then they blabbed about the right of"emin- ent domain." "Whofol's kEminentstosea Domain ?" sez I. "I want you Thet on this farm there ain't no man so eminunt ez ane." An' w'en their gangs begun to dig I went' out with a gun, An' they rushed me off. to prison till their wretched work win done. "If I can't purtect my farm," sez I, "w'y then it's my !dee You'dthbetterefree.s' "uet off c ili& this 'the country of There, there, ye hear it toot again an' break the peaceful calm; I tell ye, you black monster, you've no business on my farm An' men ride by in stovepipe hats, an' women loll in silk. An' lookin' in my barnyard say, "See thetof codger milk." Git off my farm, you stuck-up doods, who set in there an' grin I ownit thistai farm, railroad an' all, an' I will fence Ding-dong toot -toot, you black of fiend, you'll find w'en you come back Aa' 01' rail fence, without no bars, built straight across the track. An' then you stuck-up floods inside, you Pull- man upper crust, Will know this codger'll hold his farm an' let the railroad bust. You'll find this rallroacl all fenced in—'twon't do no good to talk— If you want to git to Boston, w'y, jest take yer laigs an' walk. Blasts From the Ram's Horn. It was a lie that killed Christ. Men are killed when a boy dies. The growler never grows in grace. Little sins are always good. looking. A feet never apologizes to anybody. " The memory of the just is blessed," God's almanac has no to -morrow in it. The man who has no Godowns nothing. Truth is what God says about any- thing. God loves the man who loves his brother. Vire hurt ourselves when we displease God. The man who looks high will never live low. A PECULIAR WILL CASE. J T -TF; rise of James McCurdy, a young attorney of New York City, was attended with a number of peculiar circumstances of which the public in generalwereignor- ant. His brilliant work in the celebrated Morris vs. Morris will case won for him a measure of fame that would mean much to any young man in the legal profession. The case was a hard-fought one, involving much labor on the part of the attorneys, especially for the young attorney who sought to break the will whereby James E. Morris had left his entire estate to his scape- grace foster -son, George M. Morris, and had disinherited his daughter Edith, who, in the eyes of the world, had ever been her father's favorite. McCurdy had known Edith for many years, and, while they had never been actually betrothed, their names were more or less associated. The young lawyer himself was wealthy, so the match was deemed a fitting one, and Edith did not seem averse to his at- tentions. The news that she had been disinherited was received by the world with surprise. The estate was a large one, and the last act of her father was in- explicable. No one was more mystified than James McCurdy. " Of course I don't care myself that your money is gone, Edith," he said, "'for I have enough for both of us. But it does seem strange that that scoun—" " Don't call names, Jim," replied Edith, sadly. "It won't do any good. I never thought how it would seem to be left dependent, but I dare say I will get on somehow. I can teach music, or be- come a companion, or paint china, or " You shall do nothing of the kind," he retorted hotly. "You will marry me and have everything you want. Still I do not care to see that fellow who was never a brother to you—and you know what a life he led your father—take what is your just due." " I don't want to marry you, .Tim, and bring you nothing." "You will bring yourself. That is sufficient. Still, if you will put this case in my hands I will see that you get your just dues." " You mean to take it into the courts, Jim ?" she cried in consternation. "I mean just that. Contest the wiIl." "Never. I could never contest the will of my father." " I don't believe it was his will." "What, Jim?" "I think it a forgery." The upshot of the matter was that the. will was contested. McCurdy found it up -hill work collecting evidence, Noth- ing that he could learn shook his convic- tion that the father was not out of his mind when he made the will. He bent all his energies toward showing that the will was a forged document, but found that he made little headway in the task. The foster son had a friend, Clarence Woodruff, a dissipated young man, and the attorney could not help associating him with the forged document. He had Woodruff watched, but in spite of his zeal nothing came of the closest scrutiny of the young man's actions. Day after day he worried over the, case until final- ly he was in despair. Edith alone was calm and indifferent. But now McCurdy had his professional reputation at stake and he clung to the preliminary work on the case with dogged tenacity, although h baffled at every step. On tday, while pondering over the matter at his club, his attention was arrested by a familiar voice. " Hello, Jim !" ` Jack, old boy!" The two men clasped hands and were soon Iunehing together and conversing with much animation. "By the way, Jack," said 1l4oCurdy, remembering the fad of his old friericl, "are yon doing anything in hypnotism, lately ?" " 1' should think. I was. I have become quite a celebrity in an aaiate1 r way on the other side of the water --belong to two London societies. But how are things with you, Jim ? Married? No ? Going toe be ? Why that sigh ? Come, unbos )m yourself." With that Jim related all the perplex- ities of the case in hand and theother listened with marked attention.. For several hours they conversed, and at the end of that time calve to some conable- ion,, "Pooh ! I don't believe it will work,, Jack "There is no harm trying, You are sure you have told me all about Wood- ruff ?" A" Yes," "He is the man whom you suspect forged the will ?" " I do." "Then if I succeed .do you want him for a witness ?" " No ; the other side are going to call him. He was well acquainted with Edith's father, and I believe claims to have been present arisen the will was drawn." "" You must point out Woodruff to As they left the club a tall, well-dress- ed fellow passed. " Thetis the man," said Tim. " I won't forget him. Tell me where he is usually to be found." The lawyer named several fashionable resorts and the other left him, saying at parting : "I will look around in about a week and report." The week passed and Jack was as good as his word. Ile appeared in evident glee. " It's all right, Jim." Then the two conspirators went out and had a bottle at Delmonico's and further devised ways and means. The case came on for trial and Jim presented his wit- nesses. itnesses. He asked Edith to be there that her presence might exercise a certain sympathetic effect upon the jury, but she refused, dreading the publicity. In open- ing Jim stated that he expected to show that the will filed for probate was a false' and fraudulent document, a statement received by George's attorneys with smiles of amusement. It must be con- fessed that the testimony of his witnesses did not carry out his claim. The best that he showed was that Edith's father was always kind to her, loved her ani had no reason for disinheriting her. When Jim's witnesses were exhausted the spectators in the courtroom were forced to confess that he had a poor ease. He had shown nothing, except by the most indirect inference. The other side built up what the young attorney at once mentally characterized "'a gigantic tissue of falsehood." The principal witness was Woodruff, who testified that he had once heard the deceased say that he would. disinherit Edith. During the di- rect examination of this witness George sat cool and confident. He had supplied the motiveforthedisinheritance, and then went on to say that the old gentleman's aversion to counsel on the other side, who was paying his daughter attentions, was the reason he had said he wouldleave her without a penny. The witness wasques- tioned at length and told a story that was most effective for George. " Take the witness," said the attorney for that young man. Jim consulted with a gentleman who was seated directly behind him—a man who possessed a glittering pair of eyes, which he had kept steadfastly fixed on the witness. " Is it all right, Jack ?" " Yes ; I'm sure. Go slowly at first, though." Jim turned to the witness. " You are sure you heard Mr. Morris say that he would disinherit his daughter if she did not stop going with me?" The witness hesitated, and finally an- swered in a bewildered way No; I'm not sure those were just his words." "Did his words imply any such thing?" " I can't say that they did." George regarded the witness with con- sternation, and Jim strode out in front of him and threw out question after question. " Did you ever hear my name mention- ed entioned by Mr. Morris ?" " Now, did he, as a matter of fact, ever say that he would disinherit his daught- er ?" " No," " Why did you say he did?" "Because George Morris gave me $10,- 000 to testify in this case." " It's a lie!" shouted that person. " Your honor," said Jim coldly, "I pro- test against any interruption. This is their witness, your honor, and I assert that I am following a legitimate line of questions. I give your honor my word that we have not tampered with this witness. If there has been any wrong- doin, I protest that it was not on our side." " You may proceed," said the court. " Now, Mr. Woodruff, is it not a fact that Mr. Morris did not disinherit his daughter ?" " It is," " Is it not a fact that in the true will he left her everything ?" ' n It is," Here George whispered to his attorney: "That hound has sold us out." "Is it not true that you manufactured a will to suit your purposes ?" "It is." "'This was a conspiracy between you and George Morris to defraud an innocent girl ?" " It was." " Where is the true will ?" " In George Morris' possession," Where has he concealed it ?" In his trunk in his room." Here ensued a scene of confusion, George sprang to his feet with the inten- tion of making an assault upon the -wit- ness. Officers were sent to the room and found thew ill. It was a peculiar ending to a peculiar case, but whenever Jack in these days calls upon Jim and Edith and sees how happy they are in their married life he does not regret the part he took in the case, although he did hypnotize the principal witness for the other side, A. clothing dealer down on North street is nothing if not energetic. He adver- tises widely and covers his walls and fills his windows with attractive signs. Put once he became too energetic ` for g , in the Most conspicuous place of his largest window he displayed this sign: "Don't go anywhere else to be cheated ; step right in !" A Natural Error. Two Pi ttsburgers were talking a day Or two ago, when a third, who had over - hoard part of the conversation, stepped nearer and saki " I beg your „pardon, gentlemen, but w.:uld you tell me what actorou were speaking of? Ibeloug to the theatrical profeesion myself, I believe you said the gentleman you were alluding to was dead? " We were not speaking of an actor," replied one of them, " We were talking of the death of Maley Hassan sultan o Morocco. What made you' think we were speaking of an actor ?" "I beg a thousand pardons ! My mis- take, gentlemen. I caught something as to his having 2,000 wives, and I thought of course he must be either a Mormon or an actor." Preposterous, " The new president has no more idea how a sewing society should, ,be con- ducted than a child." " What did she do ?" " Planned a lot of sewing for the mem- bers." Just So. Strawber—"I suppose you are looking forward to a pleasant time this summer, renewing old friendships?" Singerly—"I don't know about that, but I expect to renew a great many old engagements." • LAKERURST SANITARIUM, OAKVILLE. ONT. For the treatment and cure of ALCOHOLISM, THE MORPHINE HABIT, TOBACCO HABIT. LAND NERVOUS DISEASE% The system employed at this institution is the famous Doable Chloride of Gold System. Through its agency over 200,• 000 Slaves to the use of these poisons have been emancipated in the last fourteen years. Le.keliurst Sanitarium is the oldest Institution of its kind in Canada and has a well-earned reputation teem intain in this line of medicine. In its whole history there is not an instance of any after ill• effects from the treatment. Hundreds of happy homes in all parts of the Dominion bear eloquent witness to the efficacy of a course of treatment with us. For term° and full information write • THE SECRETARY, 28 Bank of Commerce Chambers, Toronto, Ont. .........................e ••••••••••••••4•••••O•••+ AUTOMATIC NUMBERING MACHINE, Steel Figures, Perfect Printing and Accur- ate Work. For prices address TORONTO TYPE FOUNDRY, Toronto and Winnipeg. ELE:TRIO MOTORS from one-half Horse Power up to Eleven Horse Power. Write for prices, stating power required, voltage of current to be used, and whether supplied by street ear line or otherwise. TORONTO TYPE FOUNDRY, Toronto and Winnipeg 11 KERICOrATER Di0- TO t, from one-efghtd to twenty horsepower, Comparative °eta have demonstrated this water motor to be the most economical agent known for generating power from a system of waterworks furnishinga pressure of 30 pounds and upwards. In wrng for information state the water pressure you pro- pose ropose to use and the elites of work to be done,, and we will be pl>ased to fntnish,alt information, r+' gutting the size motor and thepipes neeessaryto drive any kind of mac nerv, TORONTO TYPE FOTSIWRY, .,_ Toronto and Winnipeg. E INR and Boller.16fi 16 ,Horse Power, upIr.. right. Second band., in order for Bale et a bargain, TORONTO' TYPE FOVAID• RY, Toronto and w itt**,