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HomeMy WebLinkAboutThe Exeter Advocate, 1916-11-30, Page 20 6 1 6 6 i I •. 4P 1 —.4 -ir4 Jo 71111."-"'"""4:"'" " ut cker- Easier More Comfortable Are you taking advantage of ALL the modern methods of saving time and trouble ? Are you, up-to-date in your shaving as well as M your work? Are you using a ;Bete Satefr i Razor In its own way the Gillette is as quick, efficient and convenient as your milker, your binder or your telephone. It compares with other razors as these modern inventions compare with the things t.• they have replaced. Without honing, stropping or fussing, the Gillette will give you the easiest and most comfortable shave you ever enjoyed,. In five minutes or less I It makes shaving an every -day pleasure Instead of an irk- some twice -a -week jeb. "Bulldog", "Aristocrat" and Standard Gillette Sets cost $5.—Pccket Editions $5 and $6— Combination Sets $6.50 up. Ycu can tuy them at Hardware, Druz, jewel% Nees Wear and General St:1w. Gillette Safety Razor Co. of Canada, Limited 219 14 Office sad Factory Gillette Building, MONTREAL. FAMINE IN BUDAPEST. ,..••••••••m• Food in Hungary is Now Practically Non -Existent. The Hungarian Government, fright- ened by the spectre of famine, is seek- ing tr appoint a food dictator, but can find nobody to undertake the job and dictate with regard to food- whicli has no existence, writea Swiss cor- reepontlent. He says the commonest sight in Budapest is that of little crowds, mainly women, who wait wearily outside the shops for food which they cannot get, Mr. Tabody, in the Pesti Napolo, tells that "women have to stand one or two hours to get a few potatoes; from two to three hours if they want a bit of sausage, from three to four hours for a quarter of a pound of sugar 'and from four to five hours for a bit of lard or fat. A woman who wants to get something to eat for her children every day must spend at least five or !six hours waiting in the queues." People in Budapest are tired of ." grumbling about the prices of neces- saries. Within the last montir—ahey have again risen from fifty to one hundred per cent., but even the prices would not matter so much if only the food could be obtained. Budapest is • like a town besieged, and the people will soon have to follow the example of the Parisians in IVO and eat rats • and mice. The principal trouble is that the Prussians are taking away nearly everything, and what they leave is seized by the Austrians. The Important Question. "Oh, papa, Jack says my love for him makes him feel strong enough to move mountains."' "Yes, but is he strong enough to ' go to work?" Mother's Idea. "Did you meet any nice men while you were away?" "Yes, mother. Lots of them," "Lots of them! There aren't that many in the whole world." Ttl.E LAPSE. OF ENOcti WENTWORTH By ISABEL GORDON CURTIS, Author of The Woman from Wolvertons 1 CHAPTER XXVI.—(Cont'd). "Yes; but should not have gone even if you had been well. He has given Corcleiia' to. Miss Erabury, an English girl. He says she will play it beautifully. We are to opext here on the twentieth of October. The whole company has been re-engaged. Mr. Oswald said he did not believe you would care to make any changes. There is only one new member— Helen Capron will play 'Mrs. Ester. brook! Miss Paget went to London three weeks age." • Dorcas did not raise her eyes while she spoke. The silk thread had knot -I ted and she sat disentangling it with • her needle. "As soon as you are able to travel we are going to take you away eorne- where. The city is hot." • Enoch stared out et the window. "Who is 'we'?" he questioned. A wave of scarlet crept across the girl's face. "Andrew Merry has offered to help care for you until you are quite strong again," she answered without raising her eyes. There still were gray shadows in his face and wan hollows and wrinkles about) his mouth. His hair had whit- ened at the temples. Physically the man had changed, but a new tran- • quility had begun to smooth away lines of worry and care in the color- less face. ' "And begin life over again?" he asked* "Yes," said the girl gently. A pathetic eagerness came into his face; then it grew still with the grav- ity of a man who had almost touched hands with death, Into the wrinkles about his mouth crept the old dogged determination, tempered by a humili- ty which Dorcas had never seen before, She flung her work aside, dropped on her knees, and drew her brother's face close against her own. "Dorry," he said after a long silence, • "when Andrew conies I want to see him alone," "He is downstairs now," she an- swered. "Send him up, won't you—and do • you mind if he comes alone? After- wards I wants you." The girl hesitated. "Of course. But do you think you are: strong enough to visit much?" "I spoke to the doctor this morning 1 and he said talking would not hurt un- lese1 eat excited, Andrew isn't an • exciting fellow." "You're looking uncommonly well for a sick man," said Merry when he entered the room a few moments later. "So do you, Boy!" Enoch's eyes Icrinkled with a smile. "You look hap- py—tremendously happy." Oa course, I am tremendously hap- py. Why shouldn't I be *emend- , ously happy? I never saw a more glorious day; I have you, back, well • and strong, the same staunch old friend ! you always were; I've signed a con- tract for next season in figures which would have given me dizzy spells five years ago, and—" "And—" A pathetic eagerness came ' into Enoch's face. "Why, bless my soul, isn't that en- ough to set the average human on transcendental stilts?" "Andrew, you're half angel!" cried Wentworth. There was a quaver in his voice. "Half angel, you ridiculous old mud- dle head!" Merry smiled in his en- gaging way. "There's no surplus of angel fiber in any , man—angels are feminine." The comedian's eyes be- came grave for a moment. "Still, I might have been gadding about on -wings to -day if it hadn't been for you. Your courage—" "Courage!" Wentworth started as if he had been struck. "Andrew, never use that word about me again! .• wasn't courage that made me snatch you from death. Oftentimes men who in cold blood are utter cowards leap forward and rescue some one from death. That isn't courage!" He paused, as if a word had escaped him. "It is blind, instinctive impulse—the natural impulse you find even in a savage." "You're too weak yet to argue." Merry's voice was conclusive. "Only —one thing is certain," he turned his thumb toward the floor; "I am here instead of—there." • • "Andrew," the sick •man's face flushed, "take these." He pulled •a bunch of small keys threaded upon a steel ring, from under • his pillow. "Won't you unlock the little drawer at the left of my desk and bring it to rne." "Don't go in for any sort of work now Enoch. Your duty at present is to lie there and get well." "I want that drawer, eow." Merry stared at him for a moment, then he obeyed, and returned to the room with the drawer in his hand. "Do you think," the actor paused again and asked anxiously, "do you think that you are strong enough yet to at- tend to business ?" "This isn't business." Enoch's face grew peremptory. "I'm strong en- ough for this, I'm not a praying man Andrew, but I lay in the dark last night thanking •God that he liad let me live long enough to—make restita-, tion. I can't make full restitution. It seems to inc as if I had been living; on the brink of hell for half a life- time. Let me come back," he plead -1 ed, "back—so I can look decent people: in the face again," Merry did not speak. He sat watch-, ing Enoeh's wasted. fingers -search! through a mass of papers in the little! drawer. He lifted elle a bankbook and a yellow envelope, then he set the: drawer aside and laid the leather-1, covered booklet upon Merry's knee. "That is yours/' be explained. "You! will find there every cent of royalties! from 'The House'. It was banked! apart frern my private account. It grew amazingly doting the spring. You are a wealthy man." Andrew opened ib and glanced! through the pages. He looked bewil- dered for a moment, °Jelni! What can I do with so much money? 1 swear, Enoch, I don't care a picayune for being a wealthy man except—" Wentworth did not answer. He was staring at a slip of paper he had drawn from the yellow envelope. "You: remember this, Andrew?" he asked] abruptly. Merry nodded. Ile caught a glimpse' of Wentworth's name and his own upon the flimsy thing they had called the bond. Enoch leaned back against the pillow and began to destroy the, paper with slow deliberation, tearing it across and across until it was re -1 duced to a heap of flakes which flute! tered down into the hollow of his gaunt palm. He shook them into the envelope and handed it to Merry, who took it without a word and slipped it between the leaves of the bankbook.: "If you can trust rne, Boy, until the right) time comes and I reach the right place, I will make full restitution be- fore the world." !kr, WANTED FOR THE YAL N v Two thousand Canadians are wanted for the Royal Naval Cart - adieu Volunteer Recerve towards manning the new ships of the Imperial Royal NavY. Immediate overseas service. Only traen of good character and good physique accepted, Pay $1,10 Minimuna per day—Free Kit $20.00 per Month Separation Allowince Apply to the nearest Naval Fteerult- Ing Station, or to the Itioot. of Coo NovelSerize ()WAWA 4rIej51..' ,,C40. sweetheart, he might have committed murder if a weapon had been at hand. Teilibeowt.hnird time a gun lay close to his Andrew Merry did not speak, but sat NN afkhing Enoch with bewilderment in his eyes, "I am going to tell you about two lesions winch occurred in my own life. There was a third—you know about that one yourself," Across the pale face of the invalid swept a wave of scarlet; then he be- gan tel Utile slowly and hesitatingly. Dog Is Globe Trotter. Mitch, a Scotch terrier, was rescued ; from the sea three years ago by Capt. !Haines of the steamship Somerset. Since then the dog has been around the world twice, through the war zone n and the shadow of the revolutions of !Mexico and Ilaiyti. Whenever be sights ° a vessel, if his master is not on deck, he runs to his cabin and barks or ipaws at the door. • I "I was in a Southern academy the first time it happened. 1 mast have been pAiNs AFTER seventeen or thereabouts, Prizes were to be given for a publie oration a.nd ea I • coming Iroxu everywhere to hear u4. The governor was to ad- dress is. My father was a lawyer, one of the big lawyers of the states. He went to this school when he was a - boy, and he had carried off the oration prize. His heart was set on my win- ning it. I toiled and toiled over that speech; it was about the death of Julius Caesar. I can remember, as I lay awake nights staring out into the darkness, how the speech came throb- bing in my brain. I could never write, though, as 1 declaimed it to myself in the still dormitory. I used to go out into the woods and try to write. One day I gave up. I sat huddled against a stone 11 which randown the hill, dividing a pasture from the forest. There was a tall pine over my head and the crows were calling from the top of it. I can see the place yet." Enoch lifted his eyes and turned to meet the steady glance of the man who sat beside the bed. "Do you want to hear the story out?" he asked bluntly.. "Yes—if you are bound to tell it." "It isn't an easy task to set the stark-naked soul of man before anoth- er's gaze, especially when it's a man's own soul; but I've been over this, step by step, during these bedridden days, and Pll feel better when it's out of my system." (To be continued). A man may wake his first baby just to see it laugh, but he never disturbs the peaceful slumbers of the second. "Don't, old man, let us bury this now and forever. Good God! isn't it • restitution enoagh to have saved my I life?" I "No," Enoch spoke with swift pas - 1 sion, "no, it isn't restitution. Don't stand in my way. You have to humor sick men, you know. Besides, I want to lay my soul bare to you now, An- drew. Had I been a Catholic I should have done it to a priest long ago,j suppose." Go, ahead, Enoch, I'll listen," / said gently. Wentworth turned In bed and I clasped his hands around one bent knee. "Years ago," he began brus- quely, "I was wandering about in the Tennessee mountains on an assign- ment when I fell in with a chap who : taught psychology in Yale. He was Inothing wonderful, bat his science was fascinating. Time and again, since those days, I have planned, if I could find the leisure, to go into psychology and study the thing out. Still, any man who knocks about the world as I have done learns to puzzle things out for himself. There must be some- thing alluring, though, to be able to reduce the promptings of one's own soul to a science and then to work out a problem in yourself. Don't you think so?" "I should imagine so. Still, it's an unopened book to me," Merry admit- ted. "We used to sit and talk every night around the cainpfire. I remember once this young MacGregor explained to me why a man we had both known committed murder. He killed his wife first, then, horror-stricken, shot himse.. It's a common enough story, you read it in the papers every day of the week, but it came close to us because we had both known the fellow well. He was a' decent, quiet, cheerfulcitizen, citizen, with a genial, kindly way about him. • His taking off seemed a mystery None of use had even seen him angry. Suddenly he turned into a flaming fiend, a murderer, and a sui- cide. • Nothing bat insanity or the Yale man' g theory explained it." "What was his theory?" Wentworth paused for a minute with a haunted look in his eyes. "He claims that the morals of every human being are molded during the first twenty years of his life. Into a fairly decent career there conies occasionally—for • the life of me I. can't remember his technical name for it—I should call it a moral lesion. Some sin which a man has committed, and you might say lived down, before he was twenty, crops out agaie yeaas after and it conquers him. Each time he may repent and turn over a new leaf, The world looks on him not as an Admir- able Crichton perhaps, but as a toler- ably good fellow. Then suddenly, without the ghost of a warning, even after he imagines he has outgrown the tendency to that particular sin, there comes a temptation, and he goes under as if his backbone was gristle. • He falls as quick as that!" Wentworth paused for a moment and„snapped his fingers. • "Curious, isn't it?" he added. • "It certainly is curious,"' • agreed Merry. "When the career of this murderer was brought to the light) of day, they found that once when he was a school- boy, a,ncl again, when a friend stole his :g he WIND IN TIM STOMACH—ACIDITY; HEADACHES—CONSTIPATION ARE SIGNS £1*d1J 41 *4 Indigestion—the complete or partial failure af the digestive processes—fre- quently throws out of gear the whole machinery of the body. You can't enjoy the vigour and vitality of good health unless your stomach, liver and bowels do their work regularly and efficiently. • MOTHER MEL'S SYRUP As a digestive tonic and stomachic remedy, Mother Selgel's Syrup 15 esteemed in tens of thousands of homes, wherever the English language is spoken, If you suffer much or little from dlsorders of the stomach, liver or bowels, try the effect of taking 15 to 30 drops of this famous remedy in water, after meals, for a few days and note its beneficial effecta. 4013 ASSISTS DIGESTION The new1.00size contains three times' as much as the trial BIze sold at SOoper bottle. - t ==lm 004.••••••. EADS-BCikKE PASTRIES lep ja G WA t&Ati -4: • iiih Irma." 11 . 4'1'. :1 1111 lig !Ift '1:1 i rill I ii.D11111:11-1:1111:tiatit lem me 111miiiiciall i lowimium feT, rums WI1 or tt. i 4 KEEP 'YOUR' SHOES NEAT F. F. DALLEY CO. OF CANADA, LTD., HAMILTON, CANADA / 4 British Plantation Rubber Is Saving Canada Millions Low Prices of Rubbers and Overshoes Due to Britain's Control of Situation Here in Canada many of us .have fallen into the truly Anglo-Saxon habit of considering the " Mother of Parliaments " slow and a bit behind the times. The present price of rubber, when its cause is revealed,' affords one of the many proofs that such an opinion is away off :the mark. • Thanks to great rubber plantations established, in the face of criticism and ridicule, many years before in her tropical Dominions, Great Britain at the out- break of war held a firm and tightening grip on the • I world's supply of raw rubber—a grip reinforced by her dominating navy. From 60% in 1914, the production of these plantations has grown this year to 75% of the whole world's output, leaving only about half the requirements of the United States alone to come from •all othersources. • The result has been that The needs of theAllies, • enormous though they are, have been plentifully sup- plied, while Germany has been reduced to registered • mails and the " Deutschland " in desperate attempts • to mitigate her rubber famine. Neutrals ha.ve been allowed all .the rubber they want, at prices actually • lower than before the war, so long as they prevent any of it from reaching the enemy, while Canada and other parts of the Empire have an abundant supply at equally favorable Government regulated prices. . In this foresight ' and generosity of the British Govern- ment lies the reason why rubber alone, of all the great staples, has not gone up in price—why rubber boots, rubbers and overshoes are as inexpensive as ever, while leather shoes are costing several dollars a pair more. Wearing rubbers or over- shoes throuith this winter to protect these expensive shoes. or rubber farm shoes to replace them, is more than practical thrift—it is grateful patriotism, for in •thus saving leather we make it easier for the Government to secure the absolutely necessary supplies of this alarmingly scarce material for our soldiers. Both Thrift and Patriotism Point to Rubbers1 -,---*-- 16 ---------...„ Ttl.E LAPSE. OF ENOcti WENTWORTH By ISABEL GORDON CURTIS, Author of The Woman from Wolvertons 1 CHAPTER XXVI.—(Cont'd). "Yes; but should not have gone even if you had been well. He has given Corcleiia' to. Miss Erabury, an English girl. He says she will play it beautifully. We are to opext here on the twentieth of October. The whole company has been re-engaged. Mr. Oswald said he did not believe you would care to make any changes. There is only one new member— Helen Capron will play 'Mrs. Ester. brook! Miss Paget went to London three weeks age." • Dorcas did not raise her eyes while she spoke. The silk thread had knot -I ted and she sat disentangling it with • her needle. "As soon as you are able to travel we are going to take you away eorne- where. The city is hot." • Enoch stared out et the window. "Who is 'we'?" he questioned. A wave of scarlet crept across the girl's face. "Andrew Merry has offered to help care for you until you are quite strong again," she answered without raising her eyes. There still were gray shadows in his face and wan hollows and wrinkles about) his mouth. His hair had whit- ened at the temples. Physically the man had changed, but a new tran- • quility had begun to smooth away lines of worry and care in the color- less face. ' "And begin life over again?" he asked* "Yes," said the girl gently. A pathetic eagerness came into his face; then it grew still with the grav- ity of a man who had almost touched hands with death, Into the wrinkles about his mouth crept the old dogged determination, tempered by a humili- ty which Dorcas had never seen before, She flung her work aside, dropped on her knees, and drew her brother's face close against her own. "Dorry," he said after a long silence, • "when Andrew conies I want to see him alone," "He is downstairs now," she an- swered. "Send him up, won't you—and do • you mind if he comes alone? After- wards I wants you." The girl hesitated. "Of course. But do you think you are: strong enough to visit much?" "I spoke to the doctor this morning 1 and he said talking would not hurt un- lese1 eat excited, Andrew isn't an • exciting fellow." "You're looking uncommonly well for a sick man," said Merry when he entered the room a few moments later. "So do you, Boy!" Enoch's eyes Icrinkled with a smile. "You look hap- py—tremendously happy." Oa course, I am tremendously hap- py. Why shouldn't I be *emend- , ously happy? I never saw a more glorious day; I have you, back, well • and strong, the same staunch old friend ! you always were; I've signed a con- tract for next season in figures which would have given me dizzy spells five years ago, and—" "And—" A pathetic eagerness came ' into Enoch's face. "Why, bless my soul, isn't that en- ough to set the average human on transcendental stilts?" "Andrew, you're half angel!" cried Wentworth. There was a quaver in his voice. "Half angel, you ridiculous old mud- dle head!" Merry smiled in his en- gaging way. "There's no surplus of angel fiber in any , man—angels are feminine." The comedian's eyes be- came grave for a moment. "Still, I might have been gadding about on -wings to -day if it hadn't been for you. Your courage—" "Courage!" Wentworth started as if he had been struck. "Andrew, never use that word about me again! .• wasn't courage that made me snatch you from death. Oftentimes men who in cold blood are utter cowards leap forward and rescue some one from death. That isn't courage!" He paused, as if a word had escaped him. "It is blind, instinctive impulse—the natural impulse you find even in a savage." "You're too weak yet to argue." Merry's voice was conclusive. "Only —one thing is certain," he turned his thumb toward the floor; "I am here instead of—there." • • "Andrew," the sick •man's face flushed, "take these." He pulled •a bunch of small keys threaded upon a steel ring, from under • his pillow. "Won't you unlock the little drawer at the left of my desk and bring it to rne." "Don't go in for any sort of work now Enoch. Your duty at present is to lie there and get well." "I want that drawer, eow." Merry stared at him for a moment, then he obeyed, and returned to the room with the drawer in his hand. "Do you think," the actor paused again and asked anxiously, "do you think that you are strong enough yet to at- tend to business ?" "This isn't business." Enoch's face grew peremptory. "I'm strong en- ough for this, I'm not a praying man Andrew, but I lay in the dark last night thanking •God that he liad let me live long enough to—make restita-, tion. I can't make full restitution. It seems to inc as if I had been living; on the brink of hell for half a life- time. Let me come back," he plead -1 ed, "back—so I can look decent people: in the face again," Merry did not speak. He sat watch-, ing Enoeh's wasted. fingers -search! through a mass of papers in the little! drawer. He lifted elle a bankbook and a yellow envelope, then he set the: drawer aside and laid the leather-1, covered booklet upon Merry's knee. "That is yours/' be explained. "You! will find there every cent of royalties! from 'The House'. It was banked! apart frern my private account. It grew amazingly doting the spring. You are a wealthy man." Andrew opened ib and glanced! through the pages. He looked bewil- dered for a moment, °Jelni! What can I do with so much money? 1 swear, Enoch, I don't care a picayune for being a wealthy man except—" Wentworth did not answer. He was staring at a slip of paper he had drawn from the yellow envelope. "You: remember this, Andrew?" he asked] abruptly. Merry nodded. Ile caught a glimpse' of Wentworth's name and his own upon the flimsy thing they had called the bond. Enoch leaned back against the pillow and began to destroy the, paper with slow deliberation, tearing it across and across until it was re -1 duced to a heap of flakes which flute! tered down into the hollow of his gaunt palm. He shook them into the envelope and handed it to Merry, who took it without a word and slipped it between the leaves of the bankbook.: "If you can trust rne, Boy, until the right) time comes and I reach the right place, I will make full restitution be- fore the world." !kr, WANTED FOR THE YAL N v Two thousand Canadians are wanted for the Royal Naval Cart - adieu Volunteer Recerve towards manning the new ships of the Imperial Royal NavY. Immediate overseas service. Only traen of good character and good physique accepted, Pay $1,10 Minimuna per day—Free Kit $20.00 per Month Separation Allowince Apply to the nearest Naval Fteerult- Ing Station, or to the Itioot. of Coo NovelSerize ()WAWA 4rIej51..' ,,C40. sweetheart, he might have committed murder if a weapon had been at hand. Teilibeowt.hnird time a gun lay close to his Andrew Merry did not speak, but sat NN afkhing Enoch with bewilderment in his eyes, "I am going to tell you about two lesions winch occurred in my own life. There was a third—you know about that one yourself," Across the pale face of the invalid swept a wave of scarlet; then he be- gan tel Utile slowly and hesitatingly. Dog Is Globe Trotter. Mitch, a Scotch terrier, was rescued ; from the sea three years ago by Capt. !Haines of the steamship Somerset. Since then the dog has been around the world twice, through the war zone n and the shadow of the revolutions of !Mexico and Ilaiyti. Whenever be sights ° a vessel, if his master is not on deck, he runs to his cabin and barks or ipaws at the door. • I "I was in a Southern academy the first time it happened. 1 mast have been pAiNs AFTER seventeen or thereabouts, Prizes were to be given for a publie oration a.nd ea I • coming Iroxu everywhere to hear u4. The governor was to ad- dress is. My father was a lawyer, one of the big lawyers of the states. He went to this school when he was a - boy, and he had carried off the oration prize. His heart was set on my win- ning it. I toiled and toiled over that speech; it was about the death of Julius Caesar. I can remember, as I lay awake nights staring out into the darkness, how the speech came throb- bing in my brain. I could never write, though, as 1 declaimed it to myself in the still dormitory. I used to go out into the woods and try to write. One day I gave up. I sat huddled against a stone 11 which randown the hill, dividing a pasture from the forest. There was a tall pine over my head and the crows were calling from the top of it. I can see the place yet." Enoch lifted his eyes and turned to meet the steady glance of the man who sat beside the bed. "Do you want to hear the story out?" he asked bluntly.. "Yes—if you are bound to tell it." "It isn't an easy task to set the stark-naked soul of man before anoth- er's gaze, especially when it's a man's own soul; but I've been over this, step by step, during these bedridden days, and Pll feel better when it's out of my system." (To be continued). A man may wake his first baby just to see it laugh, but he never disturbs the peaceful slumbers of the second. "Don't, old man, let us bury this now and forever. Good God! isn't it • restitution enoagh to have saved my I life?" I "No," Enoch spoke with swift pas - 1 sion, "no, it isn't restitution. Don't stand in my way. You have to humor sick men, you know. Besides, I want to lay my soul bare to you now, An- drew. Had I been a Catholic I should have done it to a priest long ago,j suppose." Go, ahead, Enoch, I'll listen," / said gently. Wentworth turned In bed and I clasped his hands around one bent knee. "Years ago," he began brus- quely, "I was wandering about in the Tennessee mountains on an assign- ment when I fell in with a chap who : taught psychology in Yale. He was Inothing wonderful, bat his science was fascinating. Time and again, since those days, I have planned, if I could find the leisure, to go into psychology and study the thing out. Still, any man who knocks about the world as I have done learns to puzzle things out for himself. There must be some- thing alluring, though, to be able to reduce the promptings of one's own soul to a science and then to work out a problem in yourself. Don't you think so?" "I should imagine so. Still, it's an unopened book to me," Merry admit- ted. "We used to sit and talk every night around the cainpfire. I remember once this young MacGregor explained to me why a man we had both known committed murder. He killed his wife first, then, horror-stricken, shot himse.. It's a common enough story, you read it in the papers every day of the week, but it came close to us because we had both known the fellow well. He was a' decent, quiet, cheerfulcitizen, citizen, with a genial, kindly way about him. • His taking off seemed a mystery None of use had even seen him angry. Suddenly he turned into a flaming fiend, a murderer, and a sui- cide. • Nothing bat insanity or the Yale man' g theory explained it." "What was his theory?" Wentworth paused for a minute with a haunted look in his eyes. "He claims that the morals of every human being are molded during the first twenty years of his life. Into a fairly decent career there conies occasionally—for • the life of me I. can't remember his technical name for it—I should call it a moral lesion. Some sin which a man has committed, and you might say lived down, before he was twenty, crops out agaie yeaas after and it conquers him. Each time he may repent and turn over a new leaf, The world looks on him not as an Admir- able Crichton perhaps, but as a toler- ably good fellow. Then suddenly, without the ghost of a warning, even after he imagines he has outgrown the tendency to that particular sin, there comes a temptation, and he goes under as if his backbone was gristle. • He falls as quick as that!" Wentworth paused for a moment and„snapped his fingers. • "Curious, isn't it?" he added. • "It certainly is curious,"' • agreed Merry. "When the career of this murderer was brought to the light) of day, they found that once when he was a school- boy, a,ncl again, when a friend stole his :g he WIND IN TIM STOMACH—ACIDITY; HEADACHES—CONSTIPATION ARE SIGNS £1*d1J 41 *4 Indigestion—the complete or partial failure af the digestive processes—fre- quently throws out of gear the whole machinery of the body. You can't enjoy the vigour and vitality of good health unless your stomach, liver and bowels do their work regularly and efficiently. • MOTHER MEL'S SYRUP As a digestive tonic and stomachic remedy, Mother Selgel's Syrup 15 esteemed in tens of thousands of homes, wherever the English language is spoken, If you suffer much or little from dlsorders of the stomach, liver or bowels, try the effect of taking 15 to 30 drops of this famous remedy in water, after meals, for a few days and note its beneficial effecta. 4013 ASSISTS DIGESTION The new1.00size contains three times' as much as the trial BIze sold at SOoper bottle. - t ==lm 004.••••••. EADS-BCikKE PASTRIES lep ja G WA t&Ati -4: • iiih Irma." 11 . 4'1'. :1 1111 lig !Ift '1:1 i rill I ii.D11111:11-1:1111:tiatit lem me 111miiiiciall i lowimium feT, rums WI1 or tt. i 4 KEEP 'YOUR' SHOES NEAT F. F. DALLEY CO. OF CANADA, LTD., HAMILTON, CANADA / 4