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HomeMy WebLinkAboutThe Exeter Advocate, 1894-11-1, Page 3A Woman's. Crime, BY AN Ex -DETECTIVE„ Published by permission of the owners of the Copyright. because I wanted some information from those not ry'odiceo against her. I shall eventually have titerview those who will picture her in a more lurid li ht," "You—you intend to talk with leers. Warren and Miss VanBuren," "The women she denounced as acoone- piioes with Arteveldt ?" (CQNTINDieDe " Thank you, Philip," he said, making an entry WAIN hisnote-book, "Now, then, who was the first toconnect this lady with her husband's death?" Why, sir, now I think of it, nobody thought about who did it, until Mrs. Arteveldt came, She knew in au in- stant.'+ " To be cure," said the detective, with a queer intonation; "can you 'tell me precisely what your first thought was, when Mrs. Arteveldt accused her son's wife of the murder?" "Why, sir, as true as I live, I was shocked -just, for a minute. Then I saw the sense of the thing. It was no burg- lar, for nothing was stolen." " Nothing was stolen, eh? Well .now, Philip. you may send John Riley here." Philip bowed himself out, and present- ly John Riley approached. The same questions were put to him, and after him, to every servant in the house, in turn. As he dismissed them he charged each one to say nothing of his business with them, and then he sent to ask if Miss Kate Seaton could grant him an inter- view. CIiAPTER xx.-A LETTER IN THE GRATE. In a very short time the door again opened, and Miss Seaton herself entered the room. "I am so glad you sent for me, Mr. Bathurst," she said, coming straight to- ward. him. "Mrs. Arteveldt is sleeping now, under the influence of Doctor Wor- thing's opiates. But when she wakens, I fancy it will be difficult for you to hold interviews with anyone, except in her presence. She has become possessed of the idea that she must have a hand in everything, and—I wanted to talk with you alone. ' "I suppose you have me to thank for inspiring hers. Arteveldt with the idea that her aid is indispensable," replied the detective, bringing forward a chair, which she promptly accepted. "She must have something to keep her from going quite mad. Miss Seaton!" this with sudden surprise, "good heavens, how pale you leek." "I have not closed my eyes since Le- nore's strange flight, sir." "What ! you passed a sleepless night, and ever since have been by that poor woman, and in this house of horror. You will certainly be ill." Ha arose quickly and rang the bell, "Bring some wine for Miss Seaton," he said, to the prompt Philip. The wine was brought, Miss Seaton drank it without so much as the cere- mony of an objection. "Now we will talk," said the detective, seating himself near her. "I want a lit- tle help from you, Miss Seaton." The girl looked startled. "Not— to hunt down Lenore ?" she al- most gasped. "Not to hunt her down. You were her friend, I am told?" "I am her friend, Mr. Bathurst. I wanted to talk with you about Lenore— and, that shameful coroner's verdict. I want you to believe that Lenore Armyn is no murderess." "What 1 In the face of all the evi- dence ? Do you believe her innocent ?" "In the face of all the evidence ! In the face of everything. I do !" said Kate excitedly. "But—what of her words of last night, Miss Seaton?" "Her words! I believe now that Le- nore fully intended to run away on her bridal night, I believe that was the re- venge she had planned, and that she al- luded to. Now, when it is too late, I can recall many things that should have aroused my suspicions; but I tell you, that if Lenore is alive to -night, she is as ignorant of the truth concerning this murder, as you or I." "If she is alive! You don't think she would take her own life?" "I don't know. I can see now how worthless life must have seemed to her. I can conceive how she might have thrown away her own existence, but not that she could rob another of his." "That is to say you can imagine your- self under similar circumstances, taking refuge in a suicide's grave. 'Women in- variably judge others of their own sex, by themselves." Kate Seaton colored. "I have not been able to gain much of an idea of Mrs. Lenore Arteveldt," went on the detective, "but from what I have heard. I should say that she was not the person to destroy herself;" then in a lower and more earnest tone, "Miss Sea- ton, I sent for you this evening to ask for information concerning her. I was not aware that you was so firmly her friend, or that you doubted her guilt. As for me, my task is to find her, my next to prove her guilty or innocent. Rest as- sured that if she be innocent she shall never suffer at my hands. 1 want to get a correct idea of her, and depend on your memory to aid me. Will you tell me, as briefly as you can, all that you can re- call of your friend since you first knew her.,, "Yes," replied she, "for by so. doing I shall help, not damage her cause." Beginning at the time when she had first known Lenore, at the young ladies' school, Kate related reminiscence after reminiscence of the beautiful fugitive ; told of hor beauty, her brilliancy, her wit, her affectionateness, her impulsive generosity. She dwelt upon Lenore's fierce hatred of shams and deceit, of trickery, treachery, and all manner of petty meanness; told how she v as ever the champion of the right, and the op- pressed, of the weak and those mentally deficient. Suddenly she paused in tell- ing of Lenore's championship she must needs not say too much concerning that fierce, fiery temper, perhaps indirectly she had already said too much. She re- flected for a moment, for in espousing the cause of her friend little Kate Seaton was becoming wise as a serpent. The detect- ive, who had been making notes from time to time, looked up as she ceased speaking, but did not urge her to pro- ceed, seeming like herself, to be occupied with his own thoughts. At last Kate looked up. "I suppose you aro beginning a sr - emetic, investigation?" she said Seri- ously. :"Yes," "And—You will question others beside me concernie Lenore," The detective be an to see her drift, "Assuredly," he sairl, "1 begin with you, "Yes," "1 shall see them, of course:" "Then I may as well forestall them; they will put poor Lenore's faults into the worst dress possible," and she hasten- ed to give a full account of Lenore's at- tack upon the German wife -beater. "The detective listened with keenest interest. 'What!" heexolaimed,"did she actually strike the pian down ?" "She actually did, and he certainly de- served it. I have told you this, because I know they will make capital out of Le- nore's furious temper, and use it against her. Jess Warren ran screaming home, and told my sister that the police had ar- rested Lenore. We got there just in time to hear her, and Lenore, who was trembl- ing with anger, said some very eutting things to Jess. I think that was the foundation of Joss Warren's hatred for her. Now, let me tell you all I know concerning the inveigling of poor Lenore into a gambler's den," and she hurriedly related the little that sheknewconcerning that shameful plot, together with the suspicions, amountingalmost to certain- ties that they were te natural result of Lenore's spirited denunciation of the pre- vious evening. "I really never liked or trusted Mrs. Warren," she concluded, ".And nay aversion for Miss VanBuren was second only to Lenore's dislike for her. Let me suggest, Mr. Bathurst, that you do not lose too much time, if you are determined to see Jess. I am very much mistaken in my brother-in-law if he allows her to re- main under his roof." "I shall certainly lose no time," re- plied he, smiling a little; "and will yon favor me with a description of the person of this mysterious bride ?" Kate gave him a vivid, glowing, thoroughly womanly wood -picture of Le- nore ; and the deteotive said "Thank you, Miss Seaton; Twill detain you no longer. By the way, can you tell me if the bachelor effects of the deceased are still in his old room at his mother's house ?" "They are, I believe. He had not ordered the removal of anything except his wardrobe." "Well, I must visit that room to- night." "To -night !" • "Yes. It is now seven o'clock ; I must run out for a few moments, meantime may I depend upon you to speak to Mr. Hale when he comes. If I have not re- turned by that time, ask him to get the necessary keys, and, if possible, without disturbing Mrs. Arteveldt. An to -night you must rest, even if I have to take your place at the bedside." "You ? But you are worn out like my- self." "Nonsense ! I slept last night, remem- ber. Besides, I am trained to endure loss of sleep." "It's an odd position for a detective," said Kate, weaxily. "But I may have to take you at your word. If she does not waken much calmed; the others would find her unmanageable." "Pm a capital nurse," smiled the de- tective. "Trust me, you shall rest to- night ; and now, I will go, and you shall lie an wait for Mr. Hale." A few more words and then they sepa- rated, Kate going back .to her charge, with weary limbs, aching head and a sad heart; and Neil Jathurst hastening to- ward his own apartments, where, if he did not find him already there, he must leave a message for Jocelyn. "I shall have to come the old woman dodge, and pin a piece of paper on the door, telling where I am and all about it," thought Neil, with a half laugh, as he approached his rooms. He had hoped'to find Jocelyn, or that he would come soon. "I shall need his help, perhaps," he muttered, putting his key in the lock. "If I leave the city I shell want Rob to look out for things hereabouts." He pushed open the door and entered, striking a match at almost the same in- stant. Reaching up he lighted the gas, and then turned to close the door. As it swung forward his eye fell upon a yellow envelope that had evidently been pushed under from without. Picking it up he saw that it was a telegram, and opening it wonderingly his eyes fell upon these words : Old Man: B. and self have gone into the country; length of stay not known. Write later. Roe. The message was dated from a station some ten miles out on the Michigan Cen- tral Road. "What luck!" ejaculated the detective. "Jocelyn is worse than Paddy's flea. Well, nay business here is done, I think, and no need to pin the old woman's tag to the door. ' B. and self have gone to the country,' that's Rob all over. Brady muquirer." st have had news from his private en - Holding the telegram up to the gas flame he watched it crumble to ashes, and then turning out his light, locked his door and retraced his steps. Almost within the same hour he sat alone in Clarence Arteveldt's old dressing -room, carefully examining the contents of a costly desk. There were horribly serawl- ed notes from bon vivantes and horsey notes from well-known jockeys, scores of billets from fair ladies, many photo- graphs, and—of course—some locks of hair, He turned over the photographs; there were pictures of prominent actresses and vocalists, some of ladies with question- able faces and many of ladies who prob- ably at one time or another had enjoyed the brief adoration of the young man, once so fascinating, now shorn of all his charms and sleeping his last sleep. From these he turned to the billet doux. It took a long time to master their contents, and so much sweetness was a trifle nau- seating ; nevertheless he kept on. lav- ing perused them all he singled out ono from the mass, shuttering as he re -opened it: "This has a slightly different flavor, butheps, after all, doesn't mean much per - The note was in a fine, but firm, wom- an's hand, and was without address or signature, It ran thus : /begirt to doubt you. Don't think fns blind, or that I am one to submit to neglect, after what has been. Remember, you are not dealing with one friendless or helpless; /must see ycu to- night, August 00,187—.1 t ' "No signature, no address," he mur- mured, and bearing date only three th " gg is, 1 will months back, wi p He put it carefully in his pocket and arose to examine tho closets and dressing cases. From the pocket of a coat, which hung in, a small wardrobe, be drew a few let- ters, He instantly recognized the gar- ment as one Arteveldt hada were when last he saw him. And glancing at the dates of the letters he saw that they were very recent. "That must be the coat he discarded to put on the wedding garment. Poor fel- low, better if he had continued to wear this coat," he said, looking at it ruefully, "Now for these letters," There were several bills from uphol- sterers and tradesmen, and from one of these a smaller missive dropped. Pick- leg it up hastily he glanced at the super- scription. "How is this ?" he exclaimed, at the same time diving in his pocket for the note he had just stored away. "Ah !" glancing from one to the other. "It is the same writing, and dated gust four days ago." Thus ran the second billet : nave seen theiri you think to make your wife, And—she does not love yon—I swear it. I have warned you before. I repeat that warn- ing. Break off this marriage, even at the last moment. Break it off—or the thunderbolt that hangs over you wiilfalt, "Is this a threat or a warning?" said the detective, musingly; "the first billet embodies a threat, and whichever way this may be intended, the thunderbolt has fallen." He put the two notes carefully in his pocket and resumed his investigations. Every pocket of every garment was searched, but nothing more could be dis- covered. Approaching the grate the quick eye of the detective saw something which made him start forward suddenly. Evidently the late occupant of the room had been burning papers on that last evening of his tenantship. The remains of that last fire had not yet been cleared away, and down there among the charred dead. em- bers a scrap of scorched paper was visible. The detective seized it and scanned it eagerly. It was the fragment of a letter in the unmistakable handwriting of Clarence Arteveldt. The upper half of the sheet and a portion of the lower had been burned away, so that a part only of the concluding lines were preserved, making of course incomplete sense. The fragments of lines read as follows: -this day returned your —and. gifts. Have retained nothing — these• useless threats — the admiration your beauty commands —po- sition warrants. I shall be your friend — two must not meet. This fragment bore no signature, and the detective was quick to connect it with the other unsigned notes. - "This looks business like," said he to himself. ""If one could only get at the meaning of these documents. This last, which sounds like an answer to the one of recent date, would indicate that the writer of that one did mean a threat rather than a warning. If it is a threat, then the plot thickens; it would seem that poor Arteveldt had injured more than one woman, and that he had more than one enemy." He finished his search, but without further discoveries, and then closing the room and looking it carefully he left the house in possession of Mrs. Arteveldt's old and tried housekeeper and the under servants, and hastenedback to that other house of gloom. Yesterday those two elegant dwellings had been glowing with color and gay with preparations for bridal festivities. Surely never was wedding so swiftly fol- lowed by doaolation and gloom. Only twenty-four hours had passed, and the curtains are drawn, stillness and desola- tion are everywhere. The servants have cast away their wedding favors, as if they were living deadly things, and go about with white, scared faces. The sec- ond. act of Clarence Arteveldt's drama closes on a murdered bridegroom, a fugi- tive bride, a half -crazed mother andhor- ror in the heartsofall beholders. OH AP TER XxI.—STARTLING NEWS, STRANGELY RBOEIVED. On reaching that other house of gloom, the detective goes straight to `the room where Mrs. Arteveldt lies in a half stupor, and Kate Seaton sits wearily watching. Opening the door softly, he signals the girl to come out to him, and noiselessly, without disturbing her charge, Kate obeys. " I must have a word with you," he says, as they stand together under the dimly burning hall chandelier. " I will be as brief as possible. Can you sit on that hall chair—uncomfortable looking thing—and answer a few more ques- tions ?" She bowed, and, with a look of utter weariness, sank upon the seat desig- nated. " We are quite alone here," he said, looking about him, " as safe from inter- ruption as if closeted in the library. Now, then, please answer my questions frankly. I am now seeking for evidence that will turn the suspicion away from your friend, not for evidence against her. Kate Seaton started up eagerly. " Oh, is it possible," she cried—" is there anything that may be used in her favor?" " It is possible," he replied, gravely. "I won't say as to the probability, how- ever; that's another thing. But a detec- tive must neglect no shadow of evidence for or against. If we could prove that Clarence Arteveldt had another enemy— if we could prove that another had breathed out threats against him, don't you see that your friend's case -would look a shade less dark?" " Yes. Oh, yes !" " Then don't ask useless questions, but believe that all I do has its meaning. First, have you some of the bride's writ- ing in your possession?" " Yes ; we were correspondents after I left school." " In those letters did she make men- tion of any friends whom she especially trusted or felt a regard for?' " Do you mean any lover ?" " I mean—any one. " I am sure Lenore never had a lover until she came to the city, her mother guarded Ko she so etiimeter her s speak mother'e deathp of a Doctor Austin, who was some sort of a guardian over her property, and in whom her mother had reposed fullest confidence," " Doctor Austin ! Did he live in the same village with her mother?" Yes, sir; he lived and, of course, still lives at Fairlee." " 'You think that your friend trusted this Dr. Austin?" �� T know she did. "Miss Seaton,Imust ask for one or two of the lettere of your friend.—those referring to,',this doctor; and it would aid me vory mnch in forming correct conclusions if you would allow me to peruse the entire correspondence, on her side." Kate hesitated a, moment, and then arose. Yes," she said ; "I will let you see Lenore's letters.. They are gems; as I said l efore, they will help her cause, not hurt it—and, ah, she needs help," "Yes; she needs help. When may I have the letters?" " To -morrow. They are locked in my desk at the other house." " Thank you. Now, please use your memory. Did Miss Armyn have any female acquaintances—in the City, of course—who were strangers to you?" " No; I am euro she :lid not. ' " You went out together usually ?" Nearly always." " In your walks or drives did she ever meet and converse {with any strange woman? Did you ever, at any time, since her engagement to Clarence Arte - veldt especially, know of her meeting with a stranger?" For a moment Kate seems thinking intently, then a light breaks over her countenance. " Why, yes. I do remember now," she exclaims ; " I admitted the woman myself," Tell me all about it," eagerly. "" I will. It was one night, a little more than a week before this awful mar- riage—rather it was early in the even- ing, not yet fairly dark. It was raining, and the wind was blowing dismally. I remember thinking, when I opened the door, that it could be no pleasure caller who came out in such a storm. The hall was dimly lighted, and I could not see her plainly; but it was a woman --a lady, I should judge. She spoke in a very low voice, and was completely muffled in. a huge cloak and thick vail. She was not tall—just a little higher than 1, perhaps. She asked for Lenore, and I left her in the parlor and went up to Lenore's room. When I told her a veiled stranger was down stairs she seemed surprised, and then started to go down, saying .in that scornful way of hers : ' A. veiled stranger, in a blowing storm ! Bah ! a mere farce, I suppose.' I wondered then what she could mean; but she has been so haughty and reserved of late, that I never dared question her about any of her odd sayings. Tho stranger stayed perhaps twenty minutes, and Lenore herself conducted her out. As she closed the door and came slowly up stairs again I heard her laugh, : the low, scornful laugh that was all the mirth we had ever heard from her lips since that fatal en- gagement. She never mentioned the woman or the object of her visit, and no one liked to question her." "And that is all you can tell me?" " That is all." " Thank you, Miss Seaton. Now I . am going to take your place by Mrs. Arte - veldt ; she will be broad awake soon, and you mustfgo and rest." It is useless to oppose him; Kate sees that, and she breathes a sigh of thank- fulness as she goes to seek the repose she so much needs. As Neil Bathurst takes her place by the bedside of the woman, who slumbers as if in a trance, then wakes suddenly, to rave and cry piteously, for the dead. idol lying so motionless, not far away, his face is shadowed, his brows are con- tracted, his lips compressed. He bends the whole strength of his splendid intel- lect to the solution of a strange, knotty, woeful problem. While the detective watches and ponders, let us look in upon some of the inmates of the Durand man- sion. affectation of intense astonishment. "If s haven thi� D n a I a ng to sayo f ouw nt to hear about the weding 2" y " No," shutting her eyes as if the light hurt them. " But it was a very strange one," "No matter." " Such e finale!" Mise Durand says nothing ; her face looks very white under the wax li lets,. "And such a furore as it create. No one ever before saw such a demoniae looking bride. And then --her horrible revenge," Mass Durand erects her head suddenly.' "What are you talking about?" she cries, almost wildly. "About the bride, who denounced her husband and ran away on her wedding night. About the beautiful demon who is missing two hours after the wedding and cannot be found, although she has left a terrible " farewell' behind her." Aura Durand sits erect; her face is fairly livid, "Ran away ! Missing !" she almost shrieks, "What do you mean ? Explain instantly, instantly!" "Then don't glare at me so wildly. I am not the awful bride. Lie down and don't excite yourself. You will only in- jure your foot moving so carelessly," said Miss Annin maliciously. a "I mean what I say. Clarence Arteveldt's wife stood before her guests et her wedding feast and declared that she had been entrapped into the marriage; declared that she loathed the man lseside her; that she would never live with him ; that his eyes should never look upon her face again. She called on heaven to witness her words, and swore that to -day all the world should know how she had avenged her- self. Then she vanished as if the earth had opened and swallowed her." "Ydu lie ! You lie !" The words are almcst a shriek, Again the form of the invalid becomes suddenly erect. She looks as if she were going wild. "I wouldn't !" Miss Annin speaks in a low, steady tone, and looks her straight in the eye. "One would think you were deeply interested. It looks bad." Something in the words orthe look or the tone causes the invalid to sink sud- denly back among her cushions, and to die there motionless and silent for some moments. When she speaks again all the expression has gone out of her face, all the intensity out of her voice. "Tell me what you mean. I believe you are trying to annoy me." "No ; this is too terrible a thing to jest about." Miss Annin draws her chair nearer the couch as she speaks, and then, with her eyes fixed on Aura's face, tells the story of the bride's denunciation and disappearance, concluding thus : "The bride was not seen after, but— last night Clarence Arteveldt, half crazed with grief and wine, lay down upon the couch prepared for his bride—and this morning was found—a corpse," "What 1" The voice is very low this time, but full of n horror unutterable. "I repeat it—Clarence Arteveldt was murdered last night." "My God. !" Again that horror-strick- en tone. Miss Annin gazes and gazes, but the face is locked in sphinx -like calm. Only the voice betrays emotion, and she does not hear that again. Miss Durand lies like a statue under her gaze. A puzzled expression comes into the face of Miss Annin. She draws from her pocket a folded paper and throws it upon the couch. "There," she says, in an almost sullen tone, ""there is the evening paper ; read for yourself." "Thank you." Miss Annin rises and moves toward the door. "Shall I send Laura ?" she asks, rather ungraciously. eNo." "Then good -night." No answer ; Miss Durand does not so much as glance her way. When the door has closed behind her, however, Miss Durand springs up again and clutches at the paper. "It can't be ! It can't !" she whispers, in horrified aspirates. But her eyes fall 'upon the awful head -lines. It is allthere ; it is true. With a moan of anguish she flings the paper from her; and then the crippled heiress stands erectin the middle of the beautiful room ; her eyes are dis- tended, her face is livid, ghastly, hor- rible—there is no trace of beauty there. "He dead! He murdered ! Clarence, my Clarence, lying lifeless and cold ! Oh, I am going mad His life sacrificed and she escaped ! Horror ! horror ! She escaped ! She—hismurderess ! Ha! ha! ha! ha! ha !" , She flings her arms aloft ; she writhes like a serpent. Then, with that awful, maniac laughter upon her lips, falls senseless. In her green and glittering boudoir the lovely heiress of the Durand wealth reclines upon a satin -covered couch that is drawn forward to catch the warmth from a glowing grate fire. The room is brilliantly illuminated, not with the too glaring gas, but with the soft light from many wax candles, that are upheld by numerous:costly and quaint candelabra. Aura Durand is a thorough sybarite, and she knows better than to mar the green loveliness of her naiad's grotto with the cold glare of the gas jets. She has not left her couch all day, and her silly little maid has been kept constantly at her side. No one else has been admit- ted to her room. Hours have passed since the body of the murdered bride- groom was discovered, and the entire city has rung with the news, but it has not penetrated to the boudoir of Aura Dur- and. Neither is she aware of the scene of last night and of the flight of Lenore. Fussy, fidgety, nervous little Mrs. Dur- and could not tell her ; tender-hearted Mr. Durand would not, so it has been delegated to Miss Annin to break to her the news. Mrs. Durand has kept her room all day, only sending to inquire after Aura, and Mr. Durand has only presented himself long enough to make the regulation inquiries, and since has kept aloof from the feminine portion of the house. "Aura is so sensitive," he says, "and she and poor Arteveldt were such good friends. It will be a shock to her." Perhaps Miss Annin also feared the shock to Miss Durand's nerves ; at all events, she had held herself aloof from Aura all that day, and at 10 o'clock that night her task of disagreeable news breaking is yet to be accomplished. Per- haps Miss Annin is 0110 of those con- scientious young ladies who cannot sleep leaving a duty unperformed. For, now, late as is the hour, she enters the green boudoir, without knocking, and unan- nounced. An expression of annoyance flits across the face of the invalid, and then she says, with almost her usual calm : " Oh, it's you! Where have you been all day?" Miss Annin crosses the room in her fashion and seats herself comfortably where she can -have a full view of the in- valid's face. "I've been --making a mental calcula- tion " she replies coolly. "Isn't Laura tired?" with a meaning glance ; "she looks as if it would do -her good -to run down to the kitchen and get a cup of tea. You had better go, Laura." For a moment it would seem that Laura's mistress will countermand this advice, which amounts to an order. Then she seems to reconsider and says, languidly, "You may go, Laura --for a little while." Laura murmurs her thanks, and is glad to go, and for a moment Miss Dur- and and her companion e9e each other in silence a silence which Miss Annin is the first to break, " How is your poor ankle?" she asks with mocking solicitude; The invalid stirs impatiently, but vouchsafes no an- swer, asking a question instead. " Have you been out to -day 2" " No," carelessly. " What! Yon are taking things quietly. I thought you were getting impatient. " So I was. I have had other things to weepy me today, Miss Durand eyes her coldly. " yen had If you hav©anything to say` better say it, she says, with a half sneer, " What a queer girl yeti are," with an A POSTM9 STER'S STORY. A STRANGE ATTACK AND THE DIRE RESULTS THAT FOLLOWED Mr. Robert Sharp, of Starkville Tells of RisSnfferinge—Lost the Use of Both Rands and Feet and was Forced to Give up Business—The Timely Action of a Friend Pointed the Way to Re. nerved Activity. From the Bowmanvilte News. Mr. Robert Sharp is a well known resi- dent of Starkville, Durham county, who has been living in Canada for about thir- teen years. He is by trade a blacksmith, and on coming to this country located in the county of Northumberland. After working there for a time he purchased a residence and shop at Starkville, where he worked at his trade and established a nice business. Being both courteous and obliging he was well liked and was ap- pointed postmaster for the place. He was in the best of health and with the exception of a slight asthma trouble had no complaint of any kind. In the month of March, 1892, he attended an auction sale in the neighborhood and came home in the evening apparently all right, but during the night was taken with a chill, accompanied with a violent pain which gradually grew worse and before morn- ing he went into convulsions and be- came unconscious. A doetor was sum- moned who bled him freely; which seemed to relieve him for a tamta, and next day he seemed better, and the doc- tor told hin. he would be all right in a few days. This, however, was not veri- fied, and although he could go around ho was fast failing in health and at times would be in an agony of pain. One doe - tor said he had sciatica, and another told him that his trouble was rheumatism of the spine and that he would never be better. He tried many medicines but all felled to do him any good. At this time ho was so weak that he could only hobble emend evith the assistance of two sticks, and had to give up work. Tho pain continued day and night, and finally he .lost the ,ase of both bands and feet, a d often longed for de h to a iev e him of his suffering. About this time Mrs, Sharpe wrote .a fetter for him to a friend for whore he had worked when he first came out to the country, and this friend sent him .a couple of boxes of Dr, Williams' Pink Pills, urging him to give them a fair trial, Before the second box was done he felt somewhat better, and purchased another supply, To hasten the story, Mr. Sharp continued the use of the Pink Pills until he had taken. four, teen boxes, by which time he had coin, plctely recovered and isnow as well as ever he was, and has lost all the asthma, a trouble as well, lie is now able t,, do a hard day's work, and is loud in his praises of Dr. Williams' wonderful 'ink Pills. As the reporter was leaving a Mr. Stark, an intelligent farmer who lives close by, called, and verified all that Ur. Sharp had said, and referred the reporter to others in the neighborhood et ha knew the circumstances as well. One who had never seen Mr. Sharp before would not think, looking at him to -day, that he had come through the ordeal he has, as he seems the very picture of health, and both he and Mrs. Sharp attribute the whole cure to Pink Pills. Dr. Williams' Pink Pills strike at the root of the disease, driving it from the system and restoring the patient to health and strength. In cases of para lysis, spinal troubles, locomotor ataxia, sciatica, rheumatism, erysipelas, scroful- ous trout'lee, etc., these are superior to all other treatment. They are also a speoific for the troubles which make the lives of so many women a burden, and speedily restore the rich glow of health to sallow cheeks. Men broken down by overwork, worry, or excess, will find in Pink Pills a curtain cure. Sold by all dealers, or sent by mail, post paid, at 50 cents a box. or six boxes for 2.50, l•y addressin g the Dr. Wil- liams' Medicine Company, Brockville, Ont., or Schenectady, N.Y. Beware of imitations and substitutes alleged tope "just as good." THEATRICAL GOODS. Wigs, Moustaches, Paints, Makeups, Clogs and Song and Dance Shoes. Also tights supplied to order. Monstaches on wire frames 85 cents. Send stamp for price list. Address CHAS. CLARIN, 85 Davenport Road, Tcronto. led ' hi '.;ti se fitit " A Box of Matches, please," Says Inexperience, and Gets what the dealer pleases. " A Box of EDDY'S Matches, please," Says Experience, and Gets what pleases him. MORAL : When you want a good thing, ASK FOR IT. E. B. EDDY'S MATCHES. .ye -^, '- rye 1 s"T-z`T + " "y.�"" enaireeelieen a•••oe•ee••041e•0ee4e04-e••e• •••e•o••••e••••••••••••••• LAIE11TTR,Si' SANITARIIIM OAKVILLE, - ONT. For the treatment and euro of ALCOHOLISM, THE MORPHINE HABIT, TOBACCO HABIT, AND NERVOUS DISEASES r'_` The system employed at this instituotin 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. Lakohurst 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 boar eloquentwitness to the efficacy of a course of treatment with us. For terms and full information write T H el SECRETARY, 28 Bank of Commerce Chambers, Toronto, Ont. Pia •••e•®•••••••00004.+...4. t,LECTR1O MO'T'ORS.from one-half Horse Jai Power tip to Eleven Horse Power, Write, or prices, stating power required, voltageof i, trent to be used, and whether supplied by etieetear line orotli rwise, TORONTeO TYP?LE'OC Iell er ]':•pronto and Winnipeg NG}INE and Boiier,1S Horse Power, upright Second hand in firstteTass nyder foesale at a bargain, TORONTO TYPE leOleN»RT, To- ronto and Winnipeg,