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HomeMy WebLinkAboutThe Exeter Advocate, 1894-10-18, Page 6A Wornan's Grine, ase Ale EX -DETECTIVE.. Published by permission of the owners of the Copyright. (Coleerne ueD.) Mrs. Arteveldt went home, and for three clays waged incessant warfare upon her son, . She commanded, she implored, but her wrath and her tears were alike unavailing. On the third day Clarence said : " It's no use, mother ; I can't stand this sort of thing. I shall leave the house to -night, and for . good. If you can't accept my wife, you cant care much forme. Lenore is not a girl to be ashamed of, There is not another such in all the city. I shall have a beautiful wife, with the manners of a princess. You right well be proudof such a daughter. But if you won't you won't. Only let me tell you. this, if you don't ac- cept her now, she will not recognize you since she is wry wife." Then he went away and left her to think, Mrs. Arteveldt was a vain old woman; she idolized her son ; but she loved. so- ciety, and she knew that her reign was well-nigh over; she had counted on a; handsome, fashionable daughter-in-law, with whom she might still attend opera and ball, and who would attract to her drawing -rooms the society which, with- out the magnet of some younger beauty, would gradually fall away from her and them, If she alienated herself from. her son and the wife he had chosen, she must abandon all this. And after all Lenore Armyn was beautiful—she would grace any drawing -room. And. Mrs. Arteveldt did not feel at all sure as to her ability to keep so fine and haughty a bride from becoming ;the fashion, Her son's fortune rendered them independent of her. And after all, Lenore did love: her sou—what else could her strange words mean? When Clarence Arteveldt came down stairs, after packing his effects, hi mother met him and put a note in his hands. "Read it," she said in a subdued tone, "and then take it to Miss Armyn." With a gleam of satisfaction in his eyes, he perused. it. Thus it ran : Miss ARMTN : If you can overlook the fact of our last meet- ing, 1 can do the same. I came to you preju- diced. I think I understand you better now. Let us be the friends we should be. consxderin, how soon you wilt be my son's wife. He will give you this, and when next be visits you I shall -hope to come with hirer. Sincerely, ELLEN AnTEvELDT. "Mother, you're a trump," said the gratified Clarence. "Now then things will be more comfortable," and he hast- ened to deliver the note to Lenore. After that Mrs. Arteveldt and Miss Armyn drove regularly together. To- gether they shopped, and lunched at aristocratic, down -town restaurants. So the time wore on, and there was only a week now intervening before the wed- ding -day. Mrs. Arteveldt has chosen the trousseau, and the proud Lenore Armen had made no resistance. The new house was ready for its occupants. Such a beautifully furnished house! It was the talk of the Arteveldt set. It was one of two double houses, as they are called. They were recently -built struc- tures, and had never had a tenant. A short time after the one had been secured by the expectant bridegroom, the other had been taken, a little to the an- noyance of the first renter. The second house was still uninhabited, the lessee being tardy in taking possession. But there was plenty of evidence that the new tenant would soon be settled on the premises. Everyeday loads of costly fur- niture were landed at the door, and Clar- ence Arteveldt learned that it was to be used for a genteel boarding house. Ho was a little dissatisfied at this, but it was too late to complain, and in the city one cannot choose his neighbors. It was a dreary, drizzling November day, just one week before the time fixed upon for the wedding; Lenore had kept her room all day, only appearing at meal times. Dusk was coming on and a strong wind whistled about the corners. "Ah l And you hate her for this ; you are so jeelosts2" Again that odd laugh from the lips of Lenore, "Yes," she replied, "I sixa terribly jealous," The wailed WOIneal moved a step nearer, saying eagerly 'Miss Armyn, listen, If you marry him innocent blood will be upon your head; you will drive this poor gni to her death.' Lenore started. "le it so bad as that?" "So bad'." The voice bead= almost a wail. "My God 1 it is worse then I can tell you ; it is bitter as death." "Ah!" this one syllable with a queer. intonation. "It is the wreak of alifel"—tire voids growing snore tragic—"it is the bleakest of despair !• And you—you., so beautiful -you do notlovehim as—she does." Suddenly Lenore Armyn came to her side, and laid a hand upon her arm, say- ing peremptorily : �:,• "Please remove that vail . The visitor drew bank suddenly. s"What! why?" she almost gasped. "Because I want to see your face, Be- cense you are pleading for yourself." " I am not. "I know better, I do not choose to be theatrical. If you wish to talk to me re- move your vail and tell me who you are." "Impossible 1" "Then our interview. ends here," turn- ing towards the door. Phe stranger sprang forward. "What 1" she cried, "you would, look upon my face to glory in my grief. You would like to laugh with him over my humiliation." Lenore twined "con her fiercely. {`What are you that you can impute such motives to me? Clarence Arts -veldt will never hear of your visit from my lips. if you want nie to hear you and believe you, throw aside this mystery." The stranger hesitated. "Will you swear to me never to speak of mo to him—never to tell any one, un- der der any circumstbnces, of my visit to you ?" "If you wish it." "I do wish it." "Then I swear." The stranger moved. nearer again. "Have you ever heard him speak of any lady friend?" "Yes ; one." "Who ?" "A bliss Durand." "And I am Aura Durand." She threw back the vail, and Lenore saw the fair blonde face for the first time. For a full minute they gazed at each other in silencethen Lenore said.: "Sit down, Miss Durand. Can it, be pos- sible you have come to me on such an errand ?" "Yes I have the first, best right to Clarence Artevelat's love ; you must give him back to me." "I, cannot." "But wait ; you do not know all—I must humble myself still more—I must known as "Alilee's." For a second time putting a' den n ra byi insu d '1 d Rob ace 1 Jocelyn yd si. sippearanee prevented a iraeeting between his friend Nell and the fair Lettere. The fair Lenore I How fair sho was, on this, her bridal eve. There was to be a brilliant sseremony at a stately church, and, heber, a recap- tion, not at the residence of Mrs.. Arte veldt the elder, but atthe new, home of the bride and. groom. This wathe wish —the whine, ..furs, Arteveldt called it --of Lenore. And Lenore's wishes were equivalent to coininands. She was not to be argued out of this "whim," She would have no reception at the house of her mother-in-law; she 'woul& receive her own wedding guests. Mrs. Arteveldt mere among the rest, • Clarence had not ventured an objection to this arrangement ; in truth he saw none. "What if it is a trifle unusual," he had said. to his mother, "we must re- ceive in our own house, and why not on our bridal night? I ane not afraid for Lenore. She may be ignorant in scale respects regarding society, but she lacks nothing that a lady should know. I tell you what, her mother must have been not only a lady, but a most extraordinary woman. Lenore never mentions her, hut it is plain she has had no common train- ing. What our city belles must acquire by education is second nature to Lenore. I believe that ilrri. Amyx:. was a travelled woman, an educated '(woman, and that she has been in the society of the best. tell "Tell me nothing. It can make no dif- ference." "It must. It shall. Listen—" "No 1" lifting her hand in admonition; "listen I cannot. 'You would only hum- ble yourself uselessly." "You will not hear me ?" "It would be worse than useless. You are not the first who has tried to make me renounce Clarence Arteveldt. I reply to you as I did to that other one : I would not listen if you knelt before me. Gold daunt buy nee ; threats are of no avail. I will marry Clarence Arteveldt; noth- ing save death can prevent it." For a moment Aura Durand stook like a statue before her. For a moment she looked as if about to spring upon Lenore and clutch her throat with those clinched baby hands. Then her form drooped suddenly, her hands fell at her side; she reeled as if about to faint. "So be it," she murmured, in a broken voice. "May heaven forgive you. All I can ask then is that you keep my secret." "I will keep your secret. Have no, fear." With drooping head and unsteady steps, Aura Durand went out into the storm. Just a block away from the Ruthven abode, the street -ears jogged drearily by, and one of them pausing, deposited a single female passenger, who hastened on through the wind and rain, heavily cloaked and closely veiled. Before the door bearing the name, Ruthven, in silver letters on a black plate, she paused for a moment, then hurried. up the steps and rang the bell. "I wish to see Mies Armyn," she said, when the door was opened. "Is she at home?" Miss Armyn was at home, and the stranger was ushered into the part. r: Lenore Armyn came down, wondering a little who hes visitor could be. At the same moment the maid of all work came in, lighted the gas, drew the curtains, and withdrew herself. Then the visitor came forward and gaaed eagerly at the face of Lenore A niyn, without removing the vail. Finally she said, as if to her- self : "She is beautiful—very." "Who are you?" asked Lenore, "and. what is your business with me?" "You are about to marry Mr. Arte - veldt," said the stranger, in a low, sweet voice. "Yes." "It is of him I wish to speak." "Then preeesd." "Miss Armyn, OIerence Arteveldt is the lover, the promised husband of an- other woman" s`WeilP' "He is bound to her by every tie of honor." Lenore Armyn. laughed. "Such bonds are frail,," she said. "Frail, indeed!" retorted the "ailed one, bitterly. "I have dome to you as the ambassador of that other woman, She loves him to madness; and begs you to eenounoe him." "She must indeed love him to mad- nese." "Miss Armyn, you surely cannot wish to marry this man, knowing the truth, I swear to you he is false, unfaithful. He has cleeeived you, and will again" "You mistake. He never will." "I say he will," excitedly; "he is by natare inconstant. Send him front you, Miss Armyn; send him back to the woman he has wronged. You are said to be as generous ea you ars beautiful—" "Then I have been misrepresented: There is no generosity in pie" "What! you do not it this other ono?" "No ; why should I? las she not been loved by (larone° Arteveldt?" Finding all opposition useless, Mrs. Arteveldt had set about the task of mak- ing others think that this new departure was entirely to her liking ; and she had done one thing more. Feeling convinced that her prospective daughter-in-law would not prove very flexible in her hands, and relieved of the fear that had hitherto haunted' her, and prevented her supplying herself with a pleasant, youth- ful companion, she had asked Kate Seaton to come to her in that capacity. She had been pleased and attracted by Kate's pretty face and bright, cheery ways. Tho girl had a sweet soprano voice, and was also an excellentreader. Mrs. Arteveldt felt that having once extended her pat- ronage to Lenore, it would not answer to let any barriers spring up between them. Lenore was fond of Kate, it would put them upon a pleasanter footing to have the girl in the house. Then, too, it would render Mrs. Arteveldt a trifle more independent. A young lady who was patronized by her must become pop ular, and Irate, when she had acquired a little more dignity, would become an ornament to society; she would soon acquire this needful dignity under the Arteveldt influence. then? Aura, is, not sick, She has. spraixed her article," "Ohl a sprain'. How did that happen, and when 2' ''Last evening; Miss Durand was re- turning from the theater. She slipped in getting from the carriage. They lead to carry er in." Others move nearer, and Miss Armin turns away.. As she passes Lenore the latter puts out her hand. ,x I have not the honor of Miss Dur- and's acquaintance " she says, looking Miss Armin straight in the eye ; "never- theless tell her that I trust she will find her injury can be amended --in time." Miss Annin bows and then moves away, wearing a,queer look upon her• face.. " Ali, Miss Anra," she thinks, "there is a peculiar meaning in those words, or I am notood at guessing:" " Miss Durandis not here," said a lady to Clarence, "how is this, Mr. Arte - vela t ?" rte -veldt?" " Mies Durand has sprained her ankle," replied the bridegroom. "I am sorry not to see her here; that makes to two disap- pointments for pre to -night. My friend, Bathurst, is absent, too. You remember him, Lenore," turning toward her and speaking in a lower voice—`'the detec- tive," Carrie Van Buren has approached, and, unnoticed by either, stands dose at the bride's elbow. She hears the low spoken words, and. she sees Lenore Arteveldt start suddenly. At once her thoughts fly back to the sunny afternoon when the young man had been pointed out to Le- nore while crossing Dearborn street, Without making her proximity known she silently turps away and seeks out Jess Warren. "Clarence," says the bride, a moment later; leaning toward him, and speaking in a .low tone, "will you arrange that Mr. Fordham shall escort Jess Warren and 1Vliss Van Buren to the supper room? I want them to sit next us." "But, Lenore—'x "Don't argue, please. You are in your own house. You have only to speak to Mr. Fordham; and I insist upon it." ie Then. of course, it shall be so. But I thought you would prefer Kate—" " I don't prefer Kate ; she is best off with your mother. Go now and find Mr. Fordham." Obediently, yet reluctantly, he leaves her side to do her bidding. The guests are merry ; the bride is fair; the groom triumphant. The moments. speed by on golden wings. Kate had accepted the lady's offer ,glad- ly ; the Ruthvens were far from being rich, and she had more than once tried to persuade her sister to let her go and seek a situation as bookkeeper or clerk in one of the many stores where young ladies were employed, but Mrs. Ruthven would not consent to this. Mrs. Arteveldt's offer was something quite different. Here was an. opportunity for Kate to better herself. The argument that was most to the liking of Kate's sister, was contained in a speech made by Mrs. Arteveldt, when settling the matter of wages, or, as she termed it, "compensation." "You see, Mrs. Ruthven," she had said, "the money I offer her is not much. I named so small a sum because I wish to reserve the privilege of furnishing her wardrobe myself. She will, of course, go out with me, as well as see much of so- ciety in nay own. house. I want her to dress in accordance . with the society in which she will be thrown." The arrangements had all been com- pleted before Lenore was made aware of the change in store for Kate. She had not displayed as much enthusiasm over the new arrangement as Kate had hoped for, and expected. But then, Lenore was engrossed with her own affairs. After all, Jess Warren did not feel ,elated over the success of her plot. She had not anticipated anything like the present state of affairs. She had not dreamed that Clarence Arteveldt's haughty mother would, under any cir- cumstanees. consent to receive Lenore. CHAPTER XVI.—A STRANGE BRIDAL BAN- QUET. Neil Bathurst bounded up the stairs which led to his rooms in the big com- mercial building, three steps at a time. It was the evening of Clarence Arte veldt's wedding, and the detective, who had been "piping" all day, had barely time to prepare for the ceremony. Plunging through the great hall he ran upon a half-grown lad who was pound- ing lustily at his own door. "Hello, youngster," he cried. "Don't batter my door down. What's the row?" " Oh! it's you, be it ?" ejaculated the gamin, taking a close survey of him"by the light from various transoms. "I thought you never would wake up." " Well, it's me or not, according to who you take me for," replied Neil, at the same time putting a key in the door. "I takes you for the chap as belongs to this 'ere room -ain't your name Bath- urst?" " That's me, sonny," pushing open the door. " Well, then, this is fer you," present- inga crumpled note, and turning to go. Who sent it?" "Damao," from the • hall without. "Good -by, Cap'n." And Neil heard him clattering down the stairs. Having closed his door, Neil opened the envelope hurriedly. It contained a half sheet of paper covered with scrawled hieroglyphics, quite ineomprenensible to any save him for whom it was intended. Neil understood it at a glance. It was a letter in cypher, the key of which was held by himself and Robert Jocelyn.' Translated the cypher read thus : OLD PAL' Be ,at Mike's to -night from 7 until further notice. I am up to some "queer shoving" games, and can't work alone. See you later. Neil uttered a low whistle. "Rob in town again," he muttered. "Where will he turn up next? At Mike's at 7, Why, that's the wedding hour. By Jove, fate is against my seeing the fair bride, Arteveldt will be hurt, I suppose, at my non.'appearance, but business is business, I can't desert Rob, even for a wedding, And he began a queer sort of toilet, one not at all inkeeping for a wedding guest. "What an odd fish Rob is," he mused, as he prepared himself. "Turning up in all sorts of places, and after all manner of game. Who supposed hint. in the city now. But them --as I had not heard of. him for a week, X might have expected it." Not long after a flashily -dressed young man came cautiously out from Neil Batheuet room, hurried down the lesser stairway and turned his face toward the famine gambling house, familiarly At last comes the summons to the bridal feast. The table is laden with delicate and costly viands, rare exotics charm the senses and perfume the air ; fruits of every clime are heaped about, a profusion of gorgeous color. There is the glitter of rare and costly plate ;`the sparkle of clearest crystal ; wines glow- ing with golden and ruby fire are flowing freely as water. Tho guests are very merry- they are feasting, jesting, laugh- ing, quaffing the glowing wine, From the lower end of the table a gentleman rises up, wineglass in hand, it is Mr. Hale, the lawyer and friendly adviser of the elder Mrs. Arteveldt. "Ladies and gentlemen, a toast," he says. "Let us fill our glasses to the: health, long live, and future happiness of Mr. and Airs. Clarence Arteveldt." "Our turn will come," Jess had said at last, to her confederate. "When she is married and holds the purse strings, we can unloose them; she won't want facts to leak out when she has begun to taste the sweets of society. And if she won't 'come down' the old lady will. Besides, we shall have the advantage of appear- ing in their drawingrooms. They won't dare slight us." They were destined to appear once, at least, for they were among the first to receive beautifully en- graved cards of invitation; first, to at- tend the ceremony of marriage, and after to attend at the reception. There was one other odd feature at that wedding. Lenore would have no bridesmaids. Alone they stood at the altar, two splendid specimens of physical beauty. Lenore Armyn was the fairest of fair brides; stately as a duchess, and cold as the north star. Clarence Arteveldt had never looked handsomer, his cheeks burned with excitement, his eyes flashed triumphantly. More than one fair belle envied Lenore Armyn tbat evening; more than one of bis male friends declar- ed Arteveldt "a lucky dog." Two fully expected guests were absent from the ceremony, Neil Bathurst and Aura Durand. It was a brilliant assembly that which gathered under the roof of Clarence Arteveldt's fine new house; not too large, just the cream of the Arteveldt set. The bride's friends gang represented by Mrs. and Mr. Ruthven, Kate Seaton and —heaven save us I—Jess Warren and Carrie VanBuren. Reader, let us mingle with the groups of brighterobed ladies, and clerical look- ing men, who are gathered in those ele- gant rooms. Lenore Arteveldt, surround- ed urrounded by a group of admiring new acquaint- ances, stands at the upper end of the large drawing -room, her words are very few, and her face somewhat graver than a bride's face should bo, but she bears herself with perfect grace, and is a good listener. "Mrs. Arteveldt seems one of your handsome, silent sort," says a gentle- man, to Jess Warren, who is arrayed in a wonderful garment of rose color— boli. ht with the price of reenore s wrong. "Yes," replied the widow, "Dear Le- nore is always silent—of late."The last two words sotto voce. At almost the same moment Mrs. and Mr. Durand are turning away, after hav- ing proffered late congratulations to the bride and groom. But Mies Armin lingers near Lenore and Clarence, "Aura was so disappointed at finding herself unable to come," she says, look- ing ttp at Clarence Arteveldt. I am sorry that she is sick," replies hese "Hope it's not serious," "Serious! clear me, no , laughing pret- tily. "Didn't you utxderstand her fa - that Lenore hes spoken the shameful truth, h Andthefa x of and her son - federate, and of George Fordham, cors roborate her story, Already Lenore is avenged, for the four evil oleos stand be- fore their fellow -mortals as targets for de- rision and scorn. Por moment the stillness is death -like ; then the mother of Clarence Arteveldt rails forward in a swoon. This breaks the spell of silenee, and stupification, They turn toward Le- norne, but the place where she stood i, vacant. The bride has disappeared. They raise the lifeless form of Mrs. Artevelclt, and remove it from the scene of confusion they tails in low, horror-stricken tones, Clurenee Arteveldt is the last to come out of his trance; blinded, stunned by a rush, of strong emotions—fear, rage, baffled passion, despair—he reels like a drunken man. He stands alone, this wretched bridegroom. Tho numerous friends who a nnonrent since sat at his board and quaffed his wine, stand aloof now, and favor hien with glances of curiosity or aversion; they are all against him to- night, to-morrow,—when it will be too late,—they will talk pityingly of him, and try to endow him with the virtues that he had not. All around the board see the full glasses—filled for the toast destined never to be honored. Clarence .Arteveldt starts forward and drains his 'lass, refills it then fills it again. As he drinks, a hand falls on bis armhe turns. It is his mother's lawyer, Mr. Hale. "What is to be done, Arteveldt?" he asks, in a dry, unfeeling voice, as if he were acting from a sense of duty, not sympathy. "Your mother is in a.swoon, shall . act for you?" • "Yes, act, for God's sake." `Then go to your own room and leave that wine 'alone." The bridegroom turns away with an. angry gesture, and fills and drains another glass. "Stop, man," cries the .sager, sternly. "Don't you see that you are damaging yourself still more in the eyes of all those people ? Come out of that frenzy and tell where your wife has gone. If you can explain this thing to your own credit, for mercy's sake do so." Down goes the wine glasswith a crash, it lies at the feet of the deserted bride- groom, shivered to atoms. "Did you not hear her?" he cries, throwing out his hands wildly, "why look for her? Neither you nor I wig ever find her. I might have known it, I might have understood her better ! I was a blind fool ; she has ruined me, body and soul—I have lost her ; that is all that I care for ! She is gone, GONE, GONE!" The last word ends in a iespairing shriek, he reels backward and falls, strik- ing his head against the carved leg of his own dining -room chair. Then Mr. Hale assumes command of everything. Pres- ently the house is quiet, the guests are gone. A physician has been summoned,. and in obedience to his command, Mrs. Arteveldt is removed to her own house ; she is borne to her carriage, accompanied by the terrified. Kate Seaton. Clarence Arteveldt is compelled to re- tire to his own room, yes, compelled— the darling of the drawing -room, the handsome, the wealthy, the weak -headed, traitor -hearted husband of an hour, is half mad.. Rage, disappointment and wine, have mastered his reason; for the time, at least, he is a maniac anal requires a keeper. [To BE CONTINUED.] Home and - is Duties. There is a rustling, a murmur of ap- probation, and the gurgling of wine flow ing into many glasses—then—a sudden hush—and .startled eyes are turned to- ward the upper end of the table. The bride has risen to her feet ; her head is thrown back defiantly ; her face is as colorless as. the whitest ivory. In one hand she, holds a wine -glass full to the brim—the other she extends in a com- manding gesture. "Before you drink that toast hear me," she says in full, "BEFORE YOU DRINK HEAR HOW CLARENCE ARTEVELDT WON HIS WIPE" firm tones. "Hear how Clarence Arte - veldt won his wife. Before you drink to him know of what he is capable—know that I, who stand before you to -night with a heart• filled with loathing for the man whose wife I am—was entrapped into this marriage. All unfamiliar with the city and its wickedness, I was led by that man," pointing to the bride- groom,. "and these, his confederates," signifying Mr. Fordham and the now guilty -looking women on either side of him, "into a gambler's den. Then I was told that the one way to save myself was by becoming the wife of the wretch who had thus entrapped me. Otherwise my friends should know that I had been a gambler's guest, and my honor would thus be blackened. Unknown to myself, I stood that day where no good woman ever stood before. But there behold two women who lured me into that place, with their own eyes open. Two women who were not there for the first time, nor for the second. On them let the shame fall I Thus far their scheme has been successful . Clarence Arteveldt will hardly slander the woman who bears his name and has been the chosen friend of his mother. He has won me for his wife ---but his wife in name only. His roof shall never shelter me ! I would die sooner than receive aught from his hand. He won me by fraud—but hecan hold nie by neither fraud nor force! Before God, I swear that never shall his hand touch mine 1 Never will I hear his lips call me wife ! Never shall his oyes look upon me after this hour ! Clarence Arteveldt, this evening has been your triumph.—this night and all the future shall witness mine. When to -morrow comes let then your friends and guests say, whether or no, your 'wife has aveng- ed herself," .The words rush from her lips like living fire. So sadden, so unexpected are they, that they strike every listener dumb. Clarence Arteveldtsits like a man of stone, but his face tells his own guilt. Not one who looks upon him there doubts • Man and wife are like a pair of scissors, so long astheyz iet together, r, but they be, , come daggers as soon ' as they are des - united, Remember that some of the brightest - drops in the °bailee of life may still re - mem for tis be old age. The last draught, which .a kind Providence gives us to• drink, though near the bottom of the cap, may, as is said of the draught of the Ro- nran of old, have at the very bottom, in- stead of dregs, most costly pearls, We have each of us our work to do, parent and child, and are mutually re- sponsible for the condition of our home. Do we do our duty toward making it the pleasantest spot on earth? If we do our part faithfully, God. will help us ; if not, "sin lieth at the door." Father and sons are too often driven away from the homes that should be most sacred and most dear, to the bar -room, where intoxicating drinks and vulgar stories are all too com- mon. Wives and daughters grow sad and heart -broken because fathers and husbands forget to bring sunshine home with them. Let me give you a little sketch of my ideal home. It is full of comforts, though it may be bare of luxuries. Whether ib rains or shines, indoors there is warmth and brightness. If a father has cares he does his best to forget them, that they may not darken their hearts. The mother has worries, but is not anxious to prove herself a martyr, so lovingly and cheer- fully she casts her burdens ole Him who is able to bear it, and makes home bright and shining. Seeing father and mother wise and cheery, the children will learn to do their part. When trouble comes, as to all it must, it loses half its weight if met and borne together. There is, at least, one pleasant room, with some of the many little things that make home happy—a few pictures (and many, if pos- sible), that early the young may learn to love beauty, and the older ones may rest their tired eyes upon them when life grows dreary as even here it sometimes may. It shall be a home good enough for visitors, but not too good for "our own," and never by any chance so elegant that sunshine, home -light, and our family are shut out. Let us make our homes places of rest and peace, of purity and good cheer ; schools where all that is noble and pure is taught; and, above all, types of that other home where enters nothing that makes a lie. His Version. Once upon a time Shifter was a Sunday school teacher, and he declares that dur- ing tura one day of his ministry he per- spired more profusely than on any other seven of his lifetime. His coup de grace carne thus: Small child—Please, teacher, why is it that some people are born good and oth- era are born bad? Shifter (after a great, wild wrestle in. - wards and a murderous craving for his, usual midday)—The good people are the descendants of Adam and Evo, and. the wrong 'uns of Eve and the Serpent. Then he handed in his resignation, and made a bee -line for the nearest saloon that had a Sabbath -breaking back door to it. What the Trouble Was. Tho deaf old gentleman with his trum- pet hanging around his neck, met an acquaintance who had enough drinks. ahead to make him talk thick, Tho 1 man began talking without the trumpet. and the old gentleman couldn't catch what he said. "Here," said the acquaintance, reach- ing for the trumpet, "let me talk through the horn." "That won't help it any," responded' the old gentleman testily. "You're talk- pig through too many horns already," ani the conversation was r`ot pursued further. 00000000043040+000OO*00.444 0004.00000034.000000000004+0 LASERURST SANITARIUM Gems of Thought. A. man's conduct is an unspoken ser- mon. ermon. All true courtesy springs from the heart. The golden age is not behind but be- fore us. A happy fireside is bettor than a big bank account. • Of all combats the sorestis to conquer ourselves. The honest man never stop to enquire if honesty pays. Overwarm friendships, like hot pota- toes, are quickly dropped. A myrtle standing among nettles does notwithstanding retain the name . of a myrtle. Though thou bast never so many coun- sellors yet do not forsake the counsel of thy own soul. A man who puts off his enjoyment too long will find it mislaid by the time he goes to get it. Modesty is to merit what shading is to a figure in a picture. It makes it stand out in strong relief. It is not so much the being exempt from faults as the having overdone then' that is an advantage to us. No true work since the world began was ever wasted; no true life since the world began has ever failed. The wealth of a man is the number of things which he loves and Massey, which he is loved and blessed by., OAKVILLE, For the treatment and cure of ALCOHOLISM, THE MORPHINE HABIT, TOBACCO HABIT, AND NERVOUS .DISEASES ONT. The system employed at this instituotiri is the famous Double Chloride of Gold System. Through its agency over 200,- 000 Slaves to the use of these poisons have been emancipated in the last four- teen years. Lakehurst Sanitarium is the oldest institution of its kind in Canada and has a well-earned reputation to maintain 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 terms and full information write THE SECRETARY, 28 Bauk of Commerce Chambers, Toronto, Ont. iv.si�.issii°e+ii�i�i ELECTRIC MO'T'ORS from one-half Horse Power up to Eleven Horse Power, Write or prices, stating power required, voltage of rnrrent to be used, and whether supplied by -beet car line or otherwise. TORONTO TYPE FOUNDRY, Toronto and Winnipeg g1lRR WATER MOTOR, from one,elgbty to twenty horsepower. Comparative testa have demonstrated this water motor to be the most economical agent known for generating power from a system of waterworks furnishing a pressure of 30 pounds and upwards. In writing for information state the water pressure yon pro- pose to use and the class of work to be done, and we will be pleaded to furnish all information re. darding the size motor and the pipes neeessarylto rive any kind of machinery. TORONTO TYPE FOUNDRY, Toronto and Winnipeg.' 5 PER CENT. Private Money lent on Farm, Ohara ' and City Property at five per cent.' Municipal Debentures Pureliased.ti Notes Discounted. W. A. WRIGHT, Financial Agent, 44 Bay St„ Toronto., FOR SAL. Toronto (Street) Railway Co. Two Hundred Shares of $100 each for, sale in large and small lots. R'. A. WRIGHT Financial Agent. 44 Bay St., Toronto.