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HomeMy WebLinkAboutThe Exeter Advocate, 1895-12-27, Page 2HE. NNE AT THE MEER (CONTINUED,' One eeciock-half-past one-two! The churoh clock struck, and struck again after intervals of bitter weariness; but still she crouched by tb e guttering candle, her cheeks pale and wau, her eyes star - hag in a vague terror at the visions of her belay. At last the morning broke, and in the first pale gray light sae crept down the twisted, orealeing stairs and let herself out in the street Perfect silence reigned. Not a creature was to beaeen. The fresh morning air pieroed to her bones as she stole on tip- toe, spellbound by the weird stillness, back to her sister's home. As she stood, once more before the b,ouse, gazing up at its blind -drawn win- dows, wondering if after all Dorothy were there, and some dire tragedy had held her from responding to her sister's can, the world. seemed to rouse itself, and enter upon its daily- course of toil. On the river earae a snorting steam tug; from the wharves sounded the rattle of chains; footsteps clattered and carts rumbled in all directions; a noisy rooster crowed suddenly with all his might, as if to suranaon every creature, great and small. to a renewal of life and industry. Laura Kingdon shrank from this reveille, creeping like an outcast to the closed doter, and crouching there in bewilder- mentand misery. She laid her hand upon the brass handle, and unintentionally turned it hilts socket. The door yielded and fell open under the pressure of her weight as she leaned against it. There was nothing to prevent her from entering her sister's home -nothing but an undefined dread of what she might discoYer there. 017 A PTER XTT DESERTED. No. 19 Shore Street the home of Dor- othy Dundas, was a small, single -fronted house, standing alone upon the shelving bank of the river. Its basement was below the level of the road, and its ground floor, consisting of sitting -room and bed-roora, corres- pondingly above it. Overhead, with a sraall casement juttina out from the r red -tiled roof that beanied over the face ' of the house, bright with its green shut- ters and white window -sills, were a gar- ret and lumber cupboard. Controlling with an effort the nervous tremor that had seized. upon her, Laura ilingdon entered the dusky little hall and opened the door of the parlour on her let. All was in darkness. She called softly totter ulster, but there was no re- ply. Summoning her courage, she crossed to the windows at the front and side of the home% and drew up the blinds. Then she glanced nervously over her shoulder atthe room, dreading -half expecting to see -she knew not what. But in the dim light of daybreak all seemed in order; the faded green "rep" chairs, the old horse -hair sofa, thesquare ewer table, with its gay blue -said -white clabeleal pattern eover, the cabinet -shaped mahog- any piano with red silk front, t e looking - glass with its broad.gilt frame muffled in. yellow fey -netting, the glass -shaded gilt clock and. bright blue vases on the mantel shelf -all were in their places, looking innocene enough; her eyes took note of -the stuffed fish, the model ship, the coral, the prints of marine subjects, the sea- weed, and other odds and ends which -distinguished the room as the abode of a sailor. Nothing was disturbed. With her heart beating a little less wildly, she went to the door that opened into the bedroom, and knocked upon it gently. No answer came. She listened intently for the breath:mg of a sleeper. There was no sound but the throbbing of her own heart. She tried the handle; it yielded, andshe ventured to push open the door. All was inshadow here, but there was sufficient light to showLaura that it was empty. The bed was uaocoupied. It had not been slept upon that night. • With ,a gasp of dismay Laura hastily threw open the window that looked out on the river, mullet in the first rosy glow •of the dawn. Not a sign of troable here, saye the forsaken bed; every item .of the humble furniture was arranged With careful neatness. Not a sign of anything wrong. Stay! what was that gleam of white upon the patchwork counterpane? A letter! Laura. took it to the light, and red with a sickness at the heart "For Captain Duudas-only for him,in the handwriting of her sister. The last three words were un - dunned. CHAPTER XIII. TEM GA.R.RET. The letter dropped from Laura's nerve- less hands; she binat into tears, and sank down in her misery, bowing her head upon the window -ledge. It was all true, then -all that she had dreaded, all that she had forseen. Dorothy had de- serted. her home, forsaken her husband in the very hour when he would be burn- ing with anticipation of the long -yearn- ed for joy of holeing her once more in Hs embrace. The cruelty, the wicked- ness of the :tot shocked. Laura unspeak- ably, for her esteem and affection for her sister's husband was deeply rooted. And. worse, infinitely worse, than the act itself appeared the motive of Dor- othy's unfaithfulness, Laura could not doubt that motive; she saw it all with ghastly olearriese by the light of her knowledge of her sister's unstable char- acter, and the remembrance of careless words, significant notions, which had long caused her poignant uneasiness. Dorothy had fled with a lover, and the lettere which had fallen into Laura's bands pointed to the worthless and con- temptible Ralph Kestrel as the partner of this treachery. 'What could be done? Had Laura, come in time to save that home from ruin, her sister from lifelong wreteheduess, aacl poor Benjamin Dun, clas from a broken heart? She feared not. Thee was but one hope; Kestrel bed Seemed an unwilling lover'perhaps Dorothy had fled to hint againsthis wish, in which case he might refuse to receive her; and in her despair she might sub- mit imrself to Lattra'S persuasions, and return to her home in time to receive her husband. Laura resolved to seek out Itentrel at once. She wottld confide in Muriel O'Connor, and Muriel would as- sist her in this terrible juncture,. But 0, for some immediate chto to the where- abouts of the fxgitivel Laura shudder- ed at the thought of what evils might re - stilt from delay. The letter for "Captain Dtutdas-only for him" she dared not open, She would not violate the saored, ness of a wife's confession; no was there any likelihood of diseovering in eueli a letter any hint of what she wish- ed to know, She vainly sought for other indications of Dorothy's destination, The house had been most carefully stripped of all such traces, if any suoh had ever existed. Thea it occurred to Laura that the wo- man who had lived. with Dorothy as as- sistant and companion might be able to tell her something But where was she? If in the house, why had she not respond- ed to the night summons, and •why had the door been left unfastened after Dor- othy had gone out? Had Dorothy de- parted without the knowledge of Susan. leg? Or had they left the house to- gether? To elucidate this mystery, Laura climbed the dark stairway to the servant's room. Upon the pallet -bed. in 5 shadowed recess of the garret, a sleeper lay. Laura could perceive the outline of the form against the whitewashed wall by the faint light that crept in. at the distant narrow window. • "Susan I" she called; "Susan, is that your The figure turned drowsily and relaps- ed into a heavy sleep. Laura went across to the bed, and, stooping, laid her hand heavily upon the woman's shoulder. "Get up she cried passionately, het'. heart enraged by what she unreasonably considered the culpable negligence of this guardian of her sister; "get up, I say, you wicked, wioked wretch! Rouse yourself I Come here and look me in the face!" As the woman half -rose from the bed, Laura caught her by the arra and drag- ged her with the resistless strength of her indignation across the floor to the window. Then turning upon her furi- ously, she cried: • "Where is my sister?" The trembling creature fell cowering at her feet, and, raising a stony, piteous face to Laura's, amazed her with the sight of -Dorothy herself ! CHAPTER XIV. "DOROXEGY'S DREA-t." A stony, piteous face, worn and wild as that of a madwoman, peering upward in the cold morning light through streams of soft brown hair. Laura look- ed. upon it with a throb of pity. It was like beholding her own face in a cruel mirror that blasted all' its beauty and its youth. She saw her own blue eyes grown faint and lustreless, wild with terror and despair; she saw her own lineainents grown old and hard, and livid with a deathly pallor. Could this be the fresh young beauty, 0017BT.---DOROTHY'S HUSBAND EGAD RE - COME GRAVE. • the playful coquette who had never seem- ed to give the world one eeriaus thought? Sbe raised her tenderly in her arms. "Dorothy -sister! dear Dorrie 1 What has happened?" The girl stared vacantly at her as if she did not hear. Her lips moved, but she uttered no sound. Her limbs were rigid in Laura's strong embrace. "Sister, for God's sake speak to me! You know me, dear, do you not?" Slowly the wild eyes gathered their vision into life and reason; the hand that hung listlessly was raised until it touch- ed Laura's cheek. Then came a change, terrible and yet welcome in the painful tension of the moment. Dorot hy gave a long, low, wailing cry, and fell upon her sister's neck in a flood of violent hysterical weeping. Laura held her to her bosom for some moments, wondering', dreading; then, as the fit increased, became alarmed, aud strove to soothe her. She would have placed the convulsed form again upon the bed, but Dorothy shrank back from it with a shudder, and, slipping from her sister's embrace, rushed through the door and down the stairs to the parlour below, where Laura, following. found her prostrate upon the floor. And there she lay, refusing all aid, all comfort, her sobs bursting forth as if her very heart would weep itself away. Laura tried all measures to compose her in vain: now murmuring soft, sympathetic en- dearments, now chiding her for her weakness, now imploring her to be calm, and give some explanation of her distress. Still Dorothy wept on, Still she lay prone upon the ground, her face buried on her fair arras, over which her hair fell in tangled masses. At last Laura rose, and leaving her, descended to the kitchen, where she busied herself in the preparation of a re- storing and consolatory cup of tea. A feeling of angry impatience had suc- ceeded to the anxiety and alarm which had hitherto over -strained every nerve, and. the gentle Laura conversed quite shrewishly with the tea-caddy and the kettle, the refraotory fire and the clatter- ing cups and. seemers. 'How can she go on so t Foolish, un- grateful girl! What is there to cry for? Has she no sense? Why can't she tell me all about it, whatever it is? Of course it is that bad worthless fellow she is breaking her heart over, because he would not steal her frora her husband, ruin her, degrade her 1 0, but he was good to spare her 1 I loathe him, but he can't be utterly bad. But Donde, my own sister, married to dear old Ben, to care like that for another man than her husband -such a our, such a dis„tustina brute, such a coarse, vulgar-- But no l he g4aVe me her letters, he would not en- courage her; it is because of that she is crying there now. 1 must not say a worci against him, "God help her! How will she receive poor Ben? () fool, fool, fool! 0, Dorrie, Dorrie 1 how could you? What a dis- grace! What wickedness -what horrible wickedness and shame! And I might have been too late to save her -LI wee too late; I should b ave been if Ralph Kestrel had come here last night. as she of course hoped he would come, But 1 am not too We now, with God's help to mike all refl.NV'hen she has recovered a little I will make her tell me all, and then I will speak to her Very, very eerionsly; and. when Ben comes home he shall find her at least reconciled to be a faithful wife to him for the rest of her life." Thus revolving her benevolent protenhe and devising means to carry them out . with the singleatandedness Qf a Jesuit, Laura got together alight breakfast, and carried it np-stairs to the sitting -room, Dorothy was no longer there. A mo- mentary fear that she had left theehouse was dispelled by discovering her in the adjacent room, vaguely searching bout the bed for some objet she seem d to miss. Laura shrewdly guessed that b- ject was the letter addressed " Dundas -only for him," vdech hidden in the pocket of I' -a' but she said nothing, me e Dorothy to breakfast in the most t tn. monplace tone she could assume. „Ror did Dorothy make any reference tes the letter. She had become calm, and suf- fered herself to be clothed in a dressing - gown, and led to the teble. But her reenner was strangely absent and fitful, She at aothing,, but con- stantly gazed abbey!, the‘rporn, as if un- able to associate her surfoundings with circumstances vividly in her recollection. Laura, watching her quietly without appearing to do so, began to entertain fears for her sister's reason, and for some time endeavoured, without success, to draw her into conversation. Suddenly Dorothy startled her sister with an abrupt question: "Are you Laura, my sister?" Laura replied with all the calmness she could assume. "Yes, dear; Laura, your sister?" Why do you ask such a question?" The other gazed at her a moment' in- tently, and then pursued: "And I am Dorothy? Are we sleep- ing, Laura? Is it all a dream?" Laura rpse and went to her side. "My darling, take my hand, There I kiss you; don't you feel my towel?" . "We are both awake?" "Certainly we are." "Then the other was a dream?" "The other?" "0, God be thanked, it must have been a dream 1" "Yes, yes," said Laura soothingly. "Yoa have had a bad dream. "I'm sure of it. I found you sleeping." "And yet -and yet" -the wide blue eyes wandered perplexedly -"and yet it cannot have been all a dream; some part -perhaps the awful, awful part! 0, if it were 1 But listen; you shall judge, you shall tell me. I -I cannot think. My brain is burning. I am not mad, am I?" "No, dear no. What is the matter with you? Why do you tremble so? Come, rest beside me on the sofa here, and tell me all about this horrid dream." "Tell me first -is there -do you know a man named Ralph Kestrel?" Laura turned away and arranged the cnehions on the couch as she answered •• why, of course I do! What has Ralnh Kestrel to do with your dream?" "Everything, everything! Is he -is he dead?" "Dead? Ralph Kestrel dead? Why no, dear, no; of course not. What an absurd fancy 1" "Are you sure? are you sure?" "I saw him alive last night." "Last night I" "Yes, last night. I give you my word. Don't you believe me?" "Yes, yes, I believe you. You saw him yourself last night -alive?" "Yes, dear, indeed I did." "Then it must have been a dream -an awful dream, sent by God as a warning to me -a warning to keep me back from sin." • 'Ale, Dorrie my sister!" "Listen: I will tell you what I dreamt ; I will tell you. I dreamt that I loved Ralph Kestrel -no, I didnot dream that; I did really love him. Do not interrupt me, Laura. This is what I dreamt: I thought I had planned with him to leave my home -my husband's home -for Ralph's sake, and go and pass the rest of my life with him. I cannot tell you what it was that made me love him: it was a magic that he had about him, I think, for sometimes he was kind and then sometimes he was cruel -often cruel. But I thought of him always. I could not eat, nor sleep, nor rest; my life seemed drawn to his. "Well, my dream: yes, Ithought that I was to meet him at a railway -station, onthe platform underground. I went there; yes, I did go. 0, it cannot, can-, not be a dream!" "Dorothy!" "But this is what I saw -or dreamed I saw -pray God I only dreamed this! On the ground, at my feet, his head, his pale face the eyes half-closed and glaz- ing over horribly! Only his head -no more; the face turned upward -I saw that; dead -dead, quite dead!" The unhappy woman crouched down shuddering, her whole form trembling like an aspen -leaf. Laura drew close to her side. "My poor Dorrie, it was a dream; in- deed it was. Think no more of it except as a warning sent by God against the temptation to wickedness. Forget this man. Put hina away out of your life for ever. Never let your good husband sus- pect that your thoughts have been for a moment unfaithful to him. He is com- ing home now, his heart full of love for you. Make him happy. Be a true, lov- ing, contented wife, and thank God who has saved you from sin , and his bitter punishment." Laura Kingdon paused, and rose .to her feet. She seemed to be listening to some distant sound. "What do you hear?" asked Dorothy anxiously, as she observed her. Laura held up her hand for silence, "Hush l" she Cried; then threnving open the door of the bedroom, "go in there instantly. Wash the tear -stains from your face. Lie down On the bed, and calm yourself; sleep if you'Possibly can. He must not seo you until you are more composed. I will explain that you have been iil. Be shall not suspect-" Dorothy had started up in great agi- tation. "Of whom are you speaking?" "Hark I" cried her sister; "there again!" "Dorothy, ahoyl" came along, distant hail from the river. " Meroiful heaven exelaimed Dorothy "it is my husbetia 1" "Yes," replied Laura, waving. her handkerchief' from the bay-winclew, Which, at the side of the house, com- manded a view of the down stream bend, "itis Captain. Dundas in his ship's boat. They are pulling him straight for the landing -stairs with might and main. Ho is standing up, wavitighis hat frantically, , and urging the sailors on as if they were rowing a rate, 11e will be in the house fri five minutes, 9tiielti db as you, aad trest to tne, "One moment sister!" cried Dorothy, as Laura attempted to force her into the beclroora ; "there is one thing I did not dream. A letter! I wrote a letter to hint -to Ben, my husband; I laid it here -here on the bed. Where is it? He must not have it now, and I cannot find it." Laura was already tearing the letter into a hundred fragments. "Fear nothing, Dorrie dear. All that is at an end, Trust to ale," She flung the morsels of paper into the kitchen fire as she hurried to the door opening on to the river to greet -Cap - tam Bedjamin Dundee'. (TO BE CONTINUED) \*WAGES IN THE OLD WORLD. An Italian wood carver receives from 890. to 680. per day. A deer -tender in Norway gets $7 a month and his board. ,A bat maker in Venice realizes from $2,40 to 84.80 a week. Common Chinese laborers oan earn from 5a to 15o. a day. A journeyman jeweler in Damascus can earn $7 a week. Hammock bearers in China receive from 10e. to 30o. a day. The employes in German paper Mine earn $162 per annum. Amijourneymaa tailor in Smyrna can ear about 600. a day. Quarrymen in Prussia oan make no more than $63 a year. A winder in a Swiss silk mill receives about 10a a day. Liverpo,o1 machinists receive a weekly average pay of $8. A native switoh-tender in Bengal gets about 15 cents a day. Gass -blowers in Germany receive no more than $155 a year. A journeyman tailor in Constantinople receives 50o. a day. Railway laborers in Holland average from 36o to 70c. per day. A railroad watchman in India receives about $4 a month. A house painter in Turin receives from $2.40 to $3 a week. Molders in the German factories aver- age about 85.50 a week. Calkers in the English shipyards make about 87.90 a week. An Arabian coffee sorter realizes about 25o. for a day's labor. Bolt makers in Liverpool realize $7.90 from a week's hard work. An English carpenter receives a week- ly average pay of $9.11. A stone cutter in Genoa will receive from $3 to $3.60 per week. Indian ivory cutters, by constant work, can make $3 a week. Clerks in Chinese stores rec,eive about Iso. a day, with their tea. A female farm laborer in Austria gets from 25e to 40o. a day. An ordinary day laborer in Iltuniola makes from 54c. to 660. a day. The average pay of a farm laborer in Bavaria is 48c. a day. . Pattern -makers in the Hamburg ship- yards are paid $5.70 a week. Cabinet makers in Denmark receive $4.58 a week; in Italy, $3.40. Doraestio servants in India are paid about $1 a week, with board. Swiss weavers make from 40c. to 60o. a day by working ten hours. The employes of German rolling mills receive about $238 a year. Engineers in New South Wales receive $13.50; in Denmark, $6.46. Riveters in the boiler shops of North Germany make $5 a week. .A first-class seamstress in India is paid from $4to $5 a month. Sheet -iron workers in the German boiler shops make SI. 50 a week. Butcherstin Belgium receive $4.31, and in Denmark, $1.37 a week. Brass founders in England receive $7.47 a week; in Germany, $4.38. A camel driver in Persia is paid $7 a month and boards himself. Pattern -makers in the shipyards of Liverpool receive $8.31 per week. An expert bricklayer in Berlin earns an average of $253 per annum. Tailors in Spain earn $4.90 a week; in Italy, $4; in England, 87.40. Skilled coppersmiths in Germany rare- ly make more than $6 a week. An Italian blacksmith in his native land, makes about $2.40 a week. Telegraph operators in Germany re- ceive $5.11 a week; in Italy $5.20. Manual laborers about the Gernaan shipyards average $1.32 a week. A mason in Brazil makes $5 85 a ;mak; In Denmark, $5.36; in Italy, $3. In. the German stove works, employes are paid froin 48c. to $1.20 a day. A. dyer and finisher in a Swiss silk mill receives from 30c. to 50c. a day. SOCIETY A CORRUPTION. The rreressional society Woman a Parasite 'Coon the World's lleart-Growth. Mrs. A. D. T. Whitney in discussing society. with her girt friends, in Decem- ber Ladies' Horne Journal, has this sting- ing charge to make against modern So- ciety, as it is spelled with a capital S: "Society as a pursuit, an end, is a thing without a soul. The home -spirit, from the sharing of which between home and home it grew, has departed out of it. It Is dead. It is a corruption. A professional society woman is a parasite upon the world's heart -growth; helping, as a mi- erobe of disease to eat out its vitality. There is a terrible reaction in the influence of what we make society to he, without its true heart and center. It is to blame for the many confused problems of our time: le is responsible for the frantic turning Of the world upside down. Conventionalities, faige effort and restriction crowd in upon and choke out our most beautiful and sae °red realities. True.honies become inore and more scarce. Society women abandon them ; they make of them mere arrival and departure stations in the rush of a Whirling round. Women who clarinet or 'W'ho will not maintain the modern ertifl. cial conditions, are discouraged and pre - polled frOrn any home -making at all. Tioy are forced, through the very need of their natures to oatside work and interest for fellowship; and ec• there is a great deal attempted, from strong desire for the best, that le yet, in its turn, untrue, one-sided; adding a fresh derangement to otir per-, plexcd systems and theories -our trate'. tional Boole' and political economies." A valued Servant. Mrs. ITamtnond-How do youllite your new eoolc? Airs. .1.1italterott -She alba near as good as the other one. 8lie has too good a tem per, 1 tieed to make the other One Marl every morning, and she would found the steak to boat the beeed,ss-In4 diatiapolis journal, 11 PREMIER BOWELVS C1O1UFID1N- 'NUL CLERK. A Sufferer From Catarrhal Trouble -he 01) Lai es instant Belief in the Ilse et Dr, Aguew's Catarrhal Powder. In close touch vvith the busy Premier of the Dominion of Canada Is Mr. J. Carle- ton, his confidentiai olerk, who for a long time had suffered from catarrhal trouble. The slightest cold settled in hie head, and trouble at ono° commeneed. He very freely sans to the people of Canada that in no way has be secured, greater re- lief than in the use of that astonishingly hoiek acting remedy -Dr. .Agnew's Ca- tarrhal Powder, which mires without de- lay, and Is free altogether of the obnoxious elements common to catarrhal remedies. It relieves in ten minutes. Sold by drug- gists. Sample bottle and blower sent bY S.G, Detahon, 44 Church street, Toronto, on receipt of 10 cents in silver or atarops. Dabbling in Art. Fitz William -Been arrested for wa- grancy any lately? Dusty Rhodes-Nup ; I'm an artist's model. ' Fitz William -Altogether? Dusty Rhodes -up; study in still life. DOUBLED UP WITH RHEUMA- TISM. A Norwood Citizen Praises sontbj, Aikaari- can Rheumatic Cure'," -`‘- William Pegg, ilorwoodr Ont. "Last Christmas I could hardly walk. was near- ly doubled up with, rheumatism. I pro- cured three hOttles of South American Rheumatic 'Cure from W. Rutherford, druggist, of Norwood, and found it tbe best and quickest medicine I ever saw. The first dose gave relief, and the three bottles completely cured me. I have had neither ache nor pain from rheumatism since." Right Up to Date. Day -I find there is a 82,500 mortgage on the property you sold me. You never said anything about it. Gay -Certainly I did. Didn't I dis- tinctly tell you it had all the, modern im- provements? There Are Others. If there is one time more than another when a woman should be entirely alone, it is when a line full of clean clothes comes down in the mud. DEATH PREFERRED TO PAIN. Rather Than Endure Further Pain From Heart Trouble, Mrs. Margaret Smith, of Brussells, Ont., Would Have Pre,ferred Death Itself --Dr. Agnew's Cure for the Heart Fortunately Taken in Time to Pre- vent a Fatal Ending. Perhaps nothing in the history of medi• eine has proved more miraculous than tho cures effeoted by Dr.Agnew's Cure for the Heart. Says Mrs. Martha Smith, of Brussels, Ont "I have been troubled with TOO WEAK TO was. FRIEDITDS HAD OWEN IJP HOPE • OP Ripcovgla. rho Trouble Began with a Cough wikieh Settled on the limn go -Subj cot to Vatni- ing,spells, and at Last Forced to tnho to Ded-ItestoredBy Dr, Williams' Pluk Pink When all Other Medicines Ea& From L'Impartial, Tignish, P. E. L Mr. Dominick P. Chiasson, who lives on the Harper Road, about two miles from the town of Tignish, P,E.L. per- sonally took the trouble to bring beforo the notice of the editor of L'Impartial, the particulars of the euro of his daughter-in-law, Mrs. A. 1). Chitisson, through the use of Dr. Williams' Pink Pills. The case is certainly a remark- able one, and we cannot do better than give it in Mr, Chiassou's own words; ,'My son's Wife, said he, "has been stair for some sen years past, but previous tu that time was a strong, healthy per/ son. Just about seven years ago chh took a severe cold, which attacked," hes lungs, and ;rola that time up „to' the be- ginning of tbe Ta‘st - saintlier her health has been psehle, and at times we despair- Wl„.of saving her life. It was not her CAN NOW WALE: TO CHURCH. disposition to give up easily, and on some ocoasions while engaged in house- hold ' work she would be seized with a fainting "spell, which would' leave her so weak that she would be confined to her bed for several days in a semi-uncon- sonnN.,state. More than once we thought she was dying. There was a continual fetching of numbness in her limbs, and almost constant severe pains in her chest which were only eased by a stooping position. Added to this, she was troubled with a hacking cough, some- times so severe at night that she did not obtain more thau a few hours' sleep. About the end of 1891 we had given affection of the heart for over two yeaPP:'411-.-rpes of her recovery, and the ,and at times the distress was ,o bad izte't.: confine me to bed for days, during which I would have welcomed death with •oy. I time my sufferinge, yyerp„..very"sevet and consulted several doctors, with little\ or any relief. 1 Seeing Dr Agnew's Cure fer the Heart advertised I procured a bottle in hope,. though it was a faint hope, that it might prove effective in my case. I have now taken four bottles and I must confess I have never felt better in my life and am my own old self again." A Perfect Treaisnre. Madam shows the new servant up- stairs to her bedroom in the attic, and says: 'It is here you will have to sleep; there is a good bod, a table, and a chair; that is all you will require. Meantime the servant had been taking measurements with her apron, "What are you doing that for ?" "Madam, I was only trying if there is room enough fOr my piano." Change in the Tune.' Mrs. Perkinson-Do I remember young Sooner? Why he used to call on our Clara'but I never considered him much more than an idiot, and forbid him the house. Mr. Perkinson-Wellean uncle in Cali- fornia has left him two minions. Mrs. Perkinson-Dear me Well, he was always such an eccentric genius, and he's so fond of Clara, too. The Wedding Ring. During the time of GeorgeI. and IL the wedding ring, though placed upon the usual finger at the time of rnarriag.e, was sometimes worn upon the thumbon which position it is often seen on the portraits of the titled ladies itithose days. Agitation in the world ot homospa,thia medicine has been its very soul of pro- gress, as in politics and religion -the diffi- culties of opinion and the individualities of men have been parent to the disagree- raents by which the standard of these bodies have been elevated. So with most of oar famous preparations -foremost in illustration of which truth' stands the world-famous remedy to general debility and langatu "Quinine Wine," and whieh, when obtainable in its genuine strength, is a miraculous creator of appetite, vital. ity and stimulant, to the general fertility of the system. Quinine Wine, and its improvement, has, from the first discovery of the great virtues of Quinine as a !Tiede eal agent, been one of the most thoroughly discussed remedies ever offered to the public. 11 18 one of the great tonics and natural life-giving stimulants which the medical profession have been compelled to recognize and prescribe. Messrs. Northrop & Lyman of Toronto, have given to the preparation of their pure Quinine Wine the great care due to their lux- portance,and the standard excellence of the article which they offer to the pub- lic comes into the market purged of all the defects which skillful observation and scientifio opinion has pointed out in the less perlect preparetions of the past. All druggists sell it. Damaged by Smoke. Lady -I heard you had a fire here, •and are et lling goods at a bargain Grocer--TbatIs right, ma'am. Look at these ens hams fcr 15 eco la a potind, only slightly claraseeed by smoke? Down Deer), The Doctor -Queer saying that, about truth lying at the bottom at a well. The Lawyer-Yort wouldn't think so if yott knew the aniOunt of ponying we lawyers sometimes have to do to get at it, riven. Helen- There are four engagements announced iti our block. , Bess -And five divorces annonaced in mute 0111 you een't get ahead of us, my dear. "ehbor warn- of' the MILO opinion. She was reduced to almost a skeleton, and could scarcely take any nourish- ment. She had grown so weak that she could not walk across the bedrooin floor' without help. We had often heard and . read of the great cures effected by Dr. 'Williams' Pink Pills, and at thia stage, when all else had failed, I nrged that they be given a trial, and procured a half dozen boxes. After using them for about three weeks she could walk across her bedroom floor without aid, and from that time on she continued improving In health from day to day. She continu- ed taking the Pink Pills for about four months, with the result that she is now a healthy weman, and it is now no trouble for her to walk to church, a die- tanoe of two miles. and the grateful praises of herself- and friends will al- ways be given Dr. Williams' Pink Pills." The experience of years 'has proved that there is absolutely no disease due to a vitiated oondition of the blood or Oat- tered nerves that Dr. Williams' Pink Pills will not promptly cure, and those who are suffering from such troubles would avoid. much misery and save money by, promptly resorting to this treatment. Get the genuine Pink Pills every time and do not be persuaded to take an imitation or some other remedy which a dealer, for the sake of *the extra profit to himself, may say, is "just as good." Dr. Williams' Pink Pills cure when other medicines fail. HIDDEN WEALTH. Queer Places of Concealment Chosen by a Woman for Her Funds. A short time ago Sarah Lowman, a spinster, aged 411 years, died, leaving an estate valued at $10,000. She was an (*- centric character and hoarded money. She was, rarely,sif ever, seen off the farm near Jeffersonville, Ind., where she was born, and knew nothing of the ways of the world, lender no circumstances could she be in- duced to deposit her wealth in a place more safe. , County-elerk J. C. Lewman was ap- pointed administrator of the estate. He visited the homestead to make an exam- ination of the plaoe. In one of the rooms he found under the carpet $1,700 in gold. In the leaves oftooks, old oans, out of the way nooks and cupboards roils of bills ot the denomination of $20, $50, and $100 were discovered, aggregating $2,000. In the bedding, old clothing, bonnets, hats, pots, kettles, door cracks and walls money was found in liberal %mantles. In sheep- skins and feathers more ourrneey was brought to light, until between $6,000 and $7,000 had been' gathered. All the money Is in excellent state of preservation. , An additional $1,000 in gold was found secreted in a number of fruit jars in the miler. Money is believed to have been hidden in the barn and other outhouses. The premises are being guarded from th loves. • Miss Lewman was an only child. A few weeks ago her mother died, and 15 yeers ago her father, Silas Lowman, own - milted suicide. Elarly Piety. God wants men in the flush of youth, not in old ago, when you have gotten all out Of the world that I it can give you, avd have nothing to look forward to but death. That is not the Mine to came to Him, It is a poor faith that e50 ) 104517lboes e rbnclfaw convinced(eer'henvtbepleiatsuhrts ns of•the world when he is too old 50 enjoy thetn.-1.1ev, 0, M. Boswell. Nice Prospects. She. -It will be a pleasure to rao to share your troubles and antietiee. I -Ie. -But I haven't any. She. -O, you will have when we are married. The headlights from the loeamotive en, gine§ on Maine railroads attract, the deer from the forests, and iininbOrs of the ant-, Male are being killed ler the engines.