HomeMy WebLinkAboutThe Wingham Times, 1916-10-26, Page 7eas
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THE WINGHAM TIMES
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WIFE IN NAMEJ ONLY
BY BERTHA M. CLAY
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•ftoked-af it -11-1-0: pasaiiiii of wornler
'and grief, of love and longing; and
alien he saw a shadow of fear gradu-
ally darken the beautiful ere.
"Madeline," he said gently; and
she looked at him in wonder. "'Mada-
'line," he repeated.
"I -I -do not know you," she re -
allied, surprised.
She was lying, when he entered the
room, on a little couch drawn close
to the window, the sunlight, which
fell full upon her, lighting up the
golden hair and refined face with
unearthly beauty. When he uttered
!'her name, she stood up, and so like
her mother did she appear that it
.was with difficulty he could refrain
!from clasping her in his arms. But
,he must not startle her, he reflected
'he saw how fragile she was.
"You called me Madeline," she
said again, "but I do not know you."
Before answering her, Lord Mount -
dean turned to Margaret.
"Will you leave us alone?" he re -
'quested; but Lady Arleigh stretched
-out her hand.
"That is my mother," she said,
"she must not be sent away from
"I will not be long ''away, Marla-.
.line. You must listen to what this
gentleman says -and, my dear, do
not let it upset you."
Mss. Dornham retired, closing the
i'
oor carefully behind her, and Lady
Arleigh and the earl stood looking at
arch other,
"You call me Madeline." she said,
-"and you send my mother from me.
'What can you have to say?" A sud-
den thought occurred to her. "Has
'Lord Arleigh sent you to me?" " she
asked.
Lord Arleigh I" he repeated, in
wonder. "No, he has nothing to do
with what I have to say. Sit down -
you do not look strong -and I will
tell you why I am here."
It never occurred to him to ask
why she had named Lord Arleigh.
e saw her sink. half exhausted,
f frightened, upon the couch, and
e sat down by her sitie.
Madeline, he began, will you
!look at me, and see if my face brings
'back no dream, no memory. to you?
Yet how foolish, I am to think of
such a thing! How can you remem-
ber me when your baby -eyes rested
on me for only a few minutes?"
"I do not remember you," she said,
gent'.'y. "I have never seen you be -
'!ore."
"My poor child," he returned. in
• a tone so full of tenderness and pain
^that she was startled by it, "this is
'bard r
"You cannot be the gentleman I
awed to see sometimes in the early
'[house that I only just remember, who
meed to amuse me by showing me his
"watch and take me out for drives?"
"No, I never saw you, Madeline.
;as a child -I left you when you were
.-three or four days old. I have never
seen you since, although I have spent
..a fortune almost in searching for
/ow:"
"You have?" she said, wondering-
ly "Who, then, are you?"
"That is what I want to tell you
*without startling you, Madaline-dear
3lettiren dory' strange it seeins'to utter
that name again! You have always
believed that good woman who has
'pat quitted the room to be your,.
,mother?"
";Yes, always." she repeated, won-
, aering•1y.
"And that wretched man, the con-
vict, you have always believed to be
-your father?'
"Always," she repeated;,
"Will it pain or startle you very
%mei' to hear that they are not even
distantly related to you -that the wo-
'map was simply chosen as your fos-
ter-pother
os-
ter jpiother because she had just lost
•liar• own child?"
cannot believe it/' aide tried,
.trembling violently. "Who are you to
"tell me this?"
"I am Hubert, Earl of MAuntdeaia "
e ¢ replied; "'and, if you, will allo.
ane,- I will tell you what 'else I sin."
"Tell me," she said, gently.
"I am your father, Madeline -and
e best part of sty life has beta
r8lt in..loclk iciL.yo�."• '
Had Pimples ands
,Festering Sores
AL ON H E R PACE.
When the blood gets bad, boils,
,rpiinples and festering sores are sure to
brcik out on the face and body. To get
aid'' of thorn the blood should be cleansed
,lay Burdock Blood Bitters.
Ars. Charles Jewell,; Orrvi!le,. Ont.,
'Weitea: "I feel it my duty to write and
:tell you about what Burdock Blood
i $ittcrs has done for me. I was so pale
• 1 had no color at all. I also Bailpimpl;!ts
slut' festering 'sores on my faec, and my
.brad ached.ricarly all, the,,iimo, I toad
'beet! reading; in the paper, and: Vi that
Buedock Blood Bitters waS.'..good <1or
such troubles so 1 tried a bottle and before
(it at half done IAlt fide, add,whenthe.
:bo a hers finished I felt !lite' a ticerWo
r . I tell al my friends about it, and
' adr oono',ehl'Ir tieg from !surd?
'trouble to use I1,11.1'f. ".
There is only one B.18.1t. That is the
*duke, iriaaufacturedrby hire T.
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^"Tif,y"iathev;' `ai3I3 saad, faintly,
"Then I am not the daughter of a
convict -my father is an earl?"
"I am your father," he repeated,
"and you, child, have your mother's
face."
"And she -she who has just left us
-is nothing to me?" '
"Nothing. Do not tremble, my dear
child. Listen -try to be brave. Let
me hold your hands in mine while I
tell you a true story."
He held her trembling hands while
he told her the story of his life, of
his marriage, of the sudden and fatal
journey, and her mother's death -
told in brief, clear words that left
no shadow of doubt on her mind as
to its perfect truth.
"Of your nurse's conduct." he said,
forbear to speak -it was cruel,
wicked; but, as love for you dictated
it, I will say no more. My dearest
child, you must try to forget this
unhappy past, and let me atone to
you for it. I cannot endure to think
that my daughter- and heiress, Lady
Madeline Charlewood, should have
spent her youth under so terrible a
cloud."
There came no answer, and looking
at her, he saw that the color had
left her face, that the white eyelids
had fallen over the blue eyes, that
the white lips were parted and cold
-she had fainted, fallen into a dead
swoon.
He kr_e1t by her side a>id called'
to her with passionate cries, he kiss-
ed the white face and tried to recall
the wandering senses, and then he
rang the bell with a heavy. peal. M.
Dornham came hurrying in.
"Look !" said Lord Mountdean.
have been as careful as I could, but
that is your work."
Margaret Dornhantt knelt by Ma'
aide of the senseless girt.
"I would give my life to undo nno�r.
past folly," she said. "Oh, my lord,'
you can never forgive me?'
He saw the passionate love that
she had for her foster -child; he srtw,
that it was a mother's love, tench'',
tree, devoted, and - self-sacrificing.
though mistaken. He could not be!
angry, for he saw that her sorrow
even exceeded his own.
To his infinite joy, Madeline plus
ently opened her dark blue'eyes saes'
looked up to him. She stretched out
her hands to him.
"My father,"4 she said -"yon aye.
really my father!"
He kissed her face.
"Madeline," he replied, " my heat!
is too full for words. I have spent
seventeen years in . looking for your,
and have found you at last. My dearl
child, we have seventeen years of Love
and happiness to maks up."
"It seems like an exquisite dream,"'
e she said. "Can it be true?" •
He saw her lovely face grow crim-
son, and bending her fair, shapely
head, She whispered:
"Papa, does Lord Arleigh know?"'
"Lord Arleigh !" he repeated. "My
dear child, this is the second time you
have mentioned him. What has he
to do with you?"
She looked up at him in wonder.
"Do you not know?" she asked.
"Have they not told. you I am Lord
Arleigh's wife?"
• • • • • •
Lord Arleigh felt very, disconsolate
that Tune morning. The world was so.
beautiful, so bright, so fair, it seem-
ed hard that he should have no pleas-
ure in it. If fate had but been kind-
er to him! To increase his dullness,
Lord. Mountdean, who had been stay-
ing with ,'him .for..soane days, had sud-
denly disappeared: He had gone out
early in the morning, saying that .h
would have a ` long ramble in the
woods, and would probably not return,
untilnoon for ,luncheon.. Noon had
come and passed, lunebeon was serv,
ed, yet'there was no sign: of the earfa
Lord ,Arleigh was not uneasy, bat he'
longed for his friend's society.
A.t. last ,he decided upon going in;
search of hum. He had , perhaps lost;
his' -fray Mile woods, .or he had mists
taken some road.. It was ;high time,'
that they looked after him -he had;
been,: so; Many haute absent without;
apparent cause. Lord. Arleigh whine,
tied for his two favorite :dogs, Nero.
and Venus,.and started out in search,
of his 'friend.
Ile . west through . the woods and
down the high road, but there wain
no•si .of the earl. ""Hey must have'
walked home by another route,".
thought. Lord: Arleigh; . and he went-
bock to lieechgroove. He did not find;
the -earl there, but•e groom, who had,
evidently, been riding fast, was wait
inp for him in the hall.
" lily lord." he said, "Ivrea directed
to give you this at once,, and beg of
Yoh not to°loee •ai moment's tame.,,
Wondering what had happened,,
Lord Arleigh opened the note and
reds;.
"My bear Lord Arleigh,--Something, •
too ,wOriderful, for, m8; to set down blit
words has happened, I am at the;
Dower Rouge... Winiston.: Come at;
Mice, and 'Gee no time, Mountdean."',
"A.t the tower" Ifei'tiseh'i" Mused Lord.
A ieigh "What Can it mean?" seniC
Did •hhtt;''ESA „ of
himsetilf? he Mid to the man. •.,.
"Yes, Sat lord. He bade me tide'
as th hs or!lie•, I'a f,Mk'er4.10
kip; utry; in bad ne5;i4, IY• `
"Is he hart? Has there boon any
accident f"., •"
�i'hai'e"hest; oDO accident, nay'
lord; brut, when the earl Came to pie
!tele the It r. be looke4 040,7414 !AI
unsettled.
Lord Arleigh gave orders that the
ed..tuu ex atinllr(d.Jisl-d1 led at
oneC thirdlen e r away - -
He was so absorbed in thought that
more than once he had a narrow!
escape, almost striking his head
against the overhanging boughs of the.
trees. What could it possibly mean?
Lord Mountdean at the Dower Houae!.
He fancied some accident must have
happened to hire.
He had never been to the Dower'
House since the night when he took
his young wife thither, and as be
rode along his thoughts recurred to
that terrible evening. Would he see
her now, he wondered, and would
she, in her shy, pretty way, advance
to meet hire? It could not surely
be that she was i11, and that the
earl, having heard of it, had sent.. for
him. No, that could not be -for the
note said that something wonderful
had occurred.
Speculation was evidently useless -
the only thing to be done was to has-
ten on as quickly as he could, and
learn for himself what it all meant.
He rode perhaps faster than he had
ever ridden in his life before. When
he reached the Dower House the
horse was bathed in foam. He
thought to himself, as he rang the
hell at the outer gate, how strange
it was that he -the husband -should
be standing there ringing for admit-
tance.
A servant opened the gate, and Lord
Arleigh asked if the Earl of Mount -
dean was within, and was told that
he was.
"There is nothins the matter, I
hope," said Lord Arleigh-"nothing
wrong?"
The servant replied that something
strange had happened, but he could
not tell what it was. He did not
think there was anything seriously
wrong. And then Lord Arleigh en-
tered the house where the years of
his young wife's life had drifted away
so sadly.
CHAPTER XXXIX.
Lord Arleigh was shown into the
dining -room at Winiston House, and
stood there impatiently awaiting the
Earl of Mountdean, Ile came in at
last, but the master of Beechgrove
barely recognized him, he was so
completely changed. Years seemed to
have fallen from him. His face was
radiant with a great glad Iight. He
held out his hand to his friend.
"Congratulate me," he said; "I am
one of the happiest men in the world."
"What has happened?" asked Lord
Arleigh, in surprise.
"Follow me," said the earl; and in
silence Lord Arleigh obeyed him.
They came to the pretty shaded
room, and the earl, entering first,
said:
"Now, my darling, the hour has
come which will. repay ; you for the
sorrow , of ,.years.",
Wondering at 'such words, Lord Ar-
leigh followed .his: friend. There lay
his beautiful wife, lovelier than .ever,
with the sunlight touching her hair
with gold, her fair face transparent
as the inner leaf of a rose-Mada-
line, his darling, , who had been his
wife in mime only.
Whet:.did it mean? Why , had the
earl led him thither? Was it wan-
ton cruelty or kindness? His first
impulse..was to, .fall , on . his knees by
the little conch' and kiss his wife's
hands, his second to ask why had he
been led thither to be tortured so.
Madeline, rose with; a. glad -cry, at his
entrance, but Lord Mountdean laid a
restraining hand on her shoulder.
"Lord Arleigh," said the earl, ""tell
me who this is. "
"My wife, Lady Arleigh," he re -
p1 She beat forward with clasped
hands. "
"Oh, listen, Norman," she said,
nisten."
"You looked upon her as the only
woman youl ever could love; you
knade het-your.wifea yet, believing her
to be the daughter, of . a felon, you
separated from hot," preferring a lile-
tinie,ofrunisery to the dishonor of your
name. Is it not so, Lord Arleigh?'"
"res." he,replied, "it is, indeed se,"
"Then. now Icarn the truth. This
lady,- your wile, is not the daughter
of a !convict n her= -how. happy''thee
telling of• it makes me !--behold. -my
daughter,;;the"„child,, Who, t for TI seven.
teen years, I. have sought incessantly,
-iny, heiress' .Lady Madeline Charles
wood, the descendant of a race at
honored,:sas ancient.. and as noble as
your; bent"
Lord Arleigh listened like one in a
dream, Itcould not be possible, it
couldnot be trite -a ble-seas t inkiest he
playing himfalse-he mutat be going
Mad., His ?rife -his clef eer'ted' the
--
the earl's %rig lost daughter t. It: -was
!surely 'tt,.iernei.
His dark.,handeoane face grew.pale,
e h
hiands trtnubled, his lips quicker -
ed l
uiver-ed1
ike a woman's.- He w'sa about• to
speak. *hen Madeline '" suddenly '
spralet ,sand .clasped her arms around
his" .!legit. Oh, ray d - ', abs. cried; "it -is
intim-quite rue ! Yooneed hot be
afraid US kiaaa me and to
Wee Inc ntltib•.
--you need::nokw ,afraid-io:,gait ine.
your:wile-lou need not be ashamed
of rale, arty longer. Oh, my 7dalk*-
�a[kbng,
belief* me" 1 am soba t fief's .Jae h -
bee. ;":Iffy father is here -an hottorrime
marro you see. not a convict, llo, roan,
u ,brayIo+�IoM'we now; yolk me "noir os, f Yue. Oh, my lone, My
ae Wrl,butt:. �, /nuke
ia>e weal d....!" fl er golden bead 'dropped
on to blur breast, the clinging atria
tightened their hold of lama. Tho earl
Ittsontalatt ,tGtQrnn- • »-
Heart Palpitated
Would Have to Sit Up in Eed.
FELT AS IF SIMIOTHERING..
Mrs. Francis Madore, Alma, P,E.I.,
writes: "My heart was in such a bad
condition I could not stand any excite-
ment, and at times when I would be
talking my heart would palpitate so
that l would feel like falling. At night,
when I would go to bed and be lying
down for a while, I would have to sit up
for ten or fifteen minutes, as I would
feel as though I was smothering. I read
in the daily paper of a lady who had been
in the same condition as I was, and was
cured by using Milburn's Heart and
Nerve Pills, so I bought a box, and they
did me so much good, my husband got
another, and before I had used hall of
the second box I was completely cured.
I feel as though I can never say enough
in favor of your Heart and Nerve Pills."
Milburn's Heart and Nerve Pills are
composed of the very best heart and
nerve tonics and stimulants known to
medical science, and are for sale at all
dealers, or will be mailed direct by The
T. Milburn Co., Limited, Toronto, Ont.
Price, bel cents per box, or 3 boxes for
31.25
"tt` Ts air true, errroigli," he said.
"You look bewildered, but you need
not hesitate to believe it. Later on
I will tell you the story myself, and
we will satisfy all doubts. Now be
kind to her; she has suffered enough.
Remember, I do not blame you, nor
does she. Believing what you did,
you acted for the best. We can only
thank Heaven that the mystery is
solved; and you can take a fair and
noble maiden, who will bring honor
to your race, to your home."
"My love," said Madeline, "it
seems to me a happy dream."
When Lord Arleigh looked around
again the earl had vanished, and he
was alone with his fair young wife.
• * * * • *
Half an hour afterward Lord Ar-
Ieigh and his wife stood together un-
der the great cedar on the lawn. They
had left the pretty drawing -room. with
its cool shade and rich fragrance,
and Lord Arleigh stood holding his
wife's hand in his.
"You can really forgive me, Made-
line," he said. "You owe me no ill -
will for all that I have made you
suffer?"
She smiled as she looked at him.
"No," she replied. "How could
there be ill -will between you and me?
You did . right -in your place I should
have acted as you did."
He caressed the fair, sweet face.
"Thank you, my darling," he said.
"How thin you are," he added. "How
you have
worn yourself self awaywith
fretting ! What must I do to
bring
the roses back to this sweet face, and
the light that I remember so well to
the dear eyes?"
She looked up at him, her whole
soul in her eyes.
"You have but one thing to do,
and that -is -love me," she said; "and
then I shall be the happiest wife in
all the world. If a choice were offer-
ed me of all the good gifts of this
world, mine would be my husband's
love."
Lord Arleigh looked thoughtfully
at her. The sunshine glistened through
the green boughs, and touched her
graceful golden head as with an aure-
ole of glory.
"I am beginning to think," he said,
"that all that happens is for the best.
We shall be wiser and better all our
lives for having suffered."
"I think so too," observed Made-
line.
And, my darling," he said, "L am
suite sure of another thing. There
are many good gifts in the world -
wealth, fame, rank, glory -but the
best gift of. all is that which comes
straight from Heaven -the love of a
pure, good wife."
Looking up. they saw the earl cross-
ing the listen to meet. them.
Madeline," he said, gently, when
he was close to them, "how rejoiced
I am to see that look on your face.
You have no thought of dying now?'
Not if I can help it, papa," she
replied.
"I think," continued the earl, "that
this is the happiest day of my life.
I nmst say this to you, Norman -
that, if I had chosen from all the
worl, I e uld not have chosen a son
whom. I should care for more than for
you, and that, if I had . a son of my
own, I should have wished him to
be like you. And now we will talk
.s ut - ur, ,tide --I am oanrptis „to
asidamaftwimaimmumme
The Wretchedness
Of Constipation
Cad Quickly be overcome by
CARTER'S LI`ITLE
LIVER PILLS
Purely vigatablt
-act study and
gently on the
liver. Cure _.
Bilioautes,
Head.
take. ..
bier!.
heti, mid lnaigeation. They do their July.
Man.t"iK %erten Dies, fines Poe..
Gelritkine $aura best Sigs!atUtc
fiavA 'tW?J t:,i^^C:ii°To'.3T-ra .3T -frau in-
stead of one -our future, that is to
have no clouds. In the first place,
what must we do with this good foster -
mother of yours, Madeline, whose
great love for you has led to all this
complication?"
"I know what I should like to
said Lady Arleigh, gently.
"Then consider it done," put in
husband.
"I should like her to live with
always," said Lady Arleigh--"in
capacity --as housekeeper, or whate
she would like. She has had so
tle happiness in her life, and
would find her happiness now
mine. When her unfortunate hush
is free again she can do as she lik
either go abroad with him, or we
find them a cottage and keep th
near us."
So it was arranged; and there w
few happier women than Marg
Dornham when she heard the new
"I thought," she sobbed, in a bi voice, "that I should neber be
given; and now I find that I am
be always near to the child for wh
love I would have sacrificed
world."
Lord Mountdean insisted on the f
est publicity being given to Ma
line's abduction.
"There is one thing," he said,
cannot understand -and that is h
you came to misunderstand each o
er. Why did Madeline believe th
you knew all about her story wh
you knew nothing of it? That seer
I suppose, you will keep to yo
selves?"
Yes," replied Lord Arleigh. "T
truth is, we were both cruelIy dere
ed -it matters little by whom
how."
"That part of the story, then, wi
never be understood," said Lo
Mountdean. "The rest must be ma
public, no matter at what cost to 0
feelings—there must be no priva
no shadow over my daughter's nam
You give me your full consent. N
man?"
""Certainly; I think your propos
is very wise," Lord Arleigh replied.
"Another thing, Norman—I do n
wish my daughter to go home
Beechgrove until her story has be
made known. Than I will see that
honor is paid to her."
do,"
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So it was agreed, and great was
the sensation that ensued. The "Ar-
leigh Romance." as it was called, was
carried from one end of the kingdom
to the other. Every newspaper was
filled with it; all other intelligence
sank into insignificance when com-
pared with it. Even the leading jour-
nals of the day curtailed their politi-
cal articles to give a full account of
the Arleigh romance. But it was no-
ticeable that in no way whatsoever
was the name of the Duchess of
Hazlewood introduced.
The story was fairly told. It re-
called to the minds of the public
that some time previously Lord Ar-
leigh had made what had appeared
a strange marriage, and that he had'
separated from his wife on their wed-
ding -day, yet paying her such honor
and respect that no one could possi-
bly think any the worse of her for it.
It reminded the world how puzzled
it had been at the time; and now it
gave a solution of the mystery.
Through no act of deception on the
part of his wife, Lord Arleigh had be-
lieved that he knew her full history;
but on their wedding -day he found
that she was, to all appearance, the
daughter of a man who was a convict.
Therefore -continued the story - the
young couple had agreed to separate.
Lord Arleigh, although loving his wife
most dearly, felt himself compelled!
to part from her. He preferred that
his ancient and noble race should
become extinct rather than that it
should be tarnished by an alliance
with the offspring of crime. Lady Ar-
leigh agreed with her husband, and
took up her abode at the Dower House,
surrounded by every mark of esteem
and honor. Then the story reverted.
to the Earl of Mountdean's lost child,
and how, at Iength, to the intense de-
light of husband and father, it was
discovered that Lady Arleigh was no
other than the long -lost daughter of
Lord Mountdean.
As the earl had said, the only ob-
scure point of the narrative was how
Lord Arleigh had been deceived. Evi-
dently it was not his wife who had
deceived him -who, therefore, could it
have been? That the world was never
to know.
It was extraordinary how the story
spread, and how great liras the inter-
est it excited. There was not a man
or woman in all England who did
not know it.
When the earl deemed that full re-
paration had been made to his daugh-
ter, he agreed that she should go to
Beechgrove.
The county will never forget that
home -coming. It was on a brilliant
day toward the end of July. The
whole country -side was present to bid
Lady Arleigh welcome -the tenants,
servants, dependents, friends; child-
ren strewed flowers in her path, /lags
and banners wa'v'ed fn the sunlit air,
there was a long procession with mu-
sic, there were evergreen arches with
"Welcome Home" in Monster letters.
It was difficult to tell who '.vas
cheered most heartily -the fair young
wife whose beauty won all hearts,
the noble husband, or the gallant
earl whose pride and delight to his
daughter were so great. Lord ,Arleigh
said a few words in response to this
splendid reception -and he was not
ashamed of his own inability to fin-
ish what he had intended to say.
There had never been such a home-
coming within any nneo 'marnory.
The old hoose was filled with guests,
all the elite of the county were there.
There was a grand' dinner, followed
by a grand boli, and there was feast-
ing for the tenantry cveryihitig that
could be thought of for the amuse-
ment of the vast crowd.
On that evening, while the !ecoid.!
ties were at their height, Lord ,br.
leigh and his lovely young Wife Mole
away from their guests and wesib t
te the pie gallery. The .bread. OW.
'Very ttioons fell on the apart where
they had once endured' snob. cruel ab-
g The fire seamed to have paled
in the rabies round the, White neck
of Trtisn'n gorgeous beauty. Lord
Af� clasped his wife in .}tilt
and en he placed her at Mow Ii '
astahee !ecru himself, where the elk
May » eaosilight fell on the fair, lone -
the redder! .lxl..,a!It
rage 7
Cahtlidi"e '9 Cry for F etcher'S
The Hind You Have Always :Iiought, and wLi
heel? as been
in
use for over CO yeaks, has borne the signature ot
and has been made under hits per.
conal supervision, sinee its infancy.
.Allow no one to deceive your in this..
All Counterfeits, Imitations and "Just -as -good" are but
Experiments that trifle with and endanger the .health or
Infants and Children -Experience against Experiment.
What is CA TQRIA
Castoria is a harmless substitute for Castor 011, Pare"
gorie, Drops and Soothing- Syrups. It is pleasant. It
contains neither Opium, Morphine nor other Narcotics
substance. Its age is its guarantee. It destroys Worms
and allays Feverishness. For niore than thirty years it
bas been in constant use for the relief of Constipation,
Flatulency, Wind Colic, all Teething Troubles and
Diarrhoea. It regulates the Stomach and Bowels,
assimilates the Food, giving healthy and natural: sleep,
The Children's Panacea -The Mother's Friend,
GENUINE CASTO R IA ALWAYS'
Bears the Signature of
in Use For Over 30 Years
The Kind You Have Always Bought
,THC CENTAUR COMPANY, NEW YORK CITY,
INEIMINIMMEMEMMIMMEMEREMMZEMEINK
tfie• superb `cf!es5 or reef!-vviine siIk
and on the gleamiti i diamonds.
"My darling," he said, "you are a
thousand times lovelier than even Ti-
tian's beauty here ! Do you remember
all we suffered in this spot?"
"I can never forget it," she re-
plied.
"But you must forget it -it is for
that I have brought you hither. This
is the pleasantest nook in our house,
and I want you to have pleasant as-
sociations with it. Where we suffer-
ed hear me say—" He paused.
"What is it?" she asked, quietly,
He threw his arms round her, and
drew her to his breast.
"Here me say this. my darling -
that I love you with all my heart;
that I will so love you, truthfully and
faithfully, until death; and that I
thank Heaven for the sweetest and
best of all blessings, the gift of a
good, pure, and loving wife.,,
(To BE CONTINUED.)
GAME IN THE ANTARCTIC.
Seal Steak Is Good, and So Are the
Breasts and Eggs of Penguins.
In the antarctic there is not the im-
mense variety of game which is to be
found in. north polar regions; but, on the
other hand, it is very abundant and
can be turned into food with the small-
est exertion. The Weddell seal, which
sometimes weighs as much as half a
ton, allows itself to be killed and cut
up with placid calm. Its natural en-
emies are in the water, and for long
generations it bas been accustomed to
bask in the sun undisturbed.
Seal steak is an acquired taste, but
when acquired explorers prefer it to
tinned provisions. It Is a common
assumption that seal flesh tastes of
train oil. That is a'mistake; the flesh
itself contains no fat, but it Is extreme-
ly rich la blood, and in taste suggests
the Scottish delicacyknown as black
pudding.
Penguins, too, make a very desirable
addition to the antarctic larder. Eli*
cures eat only the .breast, which Is
rather like hare, but of a more delicate
flavor. The eggs, which are very'
abundant in the spring, suggest ducks*
eggs, but are about tour times as big.
They are excellent eating if you hap-
pen to pike a new laid one, but this is
naturally something- of a lottery, and*
penguin egg can be very bad indeed, -
London Chronicle.
Forecasts hr the Almanac.
While In modern times almanacs
commonly concern themselves only
with the known facts of the year vrlth
which they &al, for many years after
they Came into general use, abpbt the
middle of the sixteenth ceizttkrg, pre-
dictions not only with regard, to tits
weather, but also concerning the ebp,
posed .pla.nettry Influences, were a v4'
eat part of their dontenta, The "Prog-
nostication" generally dealt with '"the
varieties of the ayre and akar of 'the
winder throughout the Whole vert,
With intottnnate tunes to We and act,
take medicine, ad We., plant Mut Jour-
ney,
oUr ne3', etc." In Primo' a decree of 1t 1
roaawi & till ridii'kers• -of slzhatntiieb tel
PrOPhestr eataeerning affiaira eitht og
stabler of Iadtridnals.-+Liadola t'3hron,
!chis.
Hallie oi€ lytuias+i:' • •
afgre than twice aur wide ate Nina arh
,end,ftllly.fifty feet higher, the fails ot
dguat u. in 'South Anferica, ki one of the
great wonders ot that contig? est.
Our affections are our life. We iiva
by these. They supply Cur warmth a-
+r11a1p-taint;, __
SHE -WAITED IN VAIN.
Pathetic End of a Romance Lasting
Over Thirty Years„
Many years ago while studying in
Boston I lived for a time in a private
boarding house of the Back Bay. Aa
most of the guests were wealthy wid-
ows, I named it the House of 'Veils.
Among those coming in from the out-
side to take their meals was Miss
Adams, a descendant of the historical
Adams family and a woman of abase
sixty years.
She was engaged to be married unit
had been engaged for more than thing,
years. Her lover called, took 'her to
dinners and the theater, sent her flow-
ers and sweets as in the days of their
youth. Those who knew her told an.
this story: •
While stili young she had been lett
an income sufficiently large to main-
tain herself in comfort, but not enough
for the upkeep of a home such as she
thought befitted her station in life. So
she lived in lodgings, while her fiance
cared for his widowed mother, who
lived to be very old.
At the time to which I refer her lover
held a responsible position, and the
only obstacle in the way of their mar-
riage was the aged mother,
They were devoted lovers at sixty
and had been devoted lovers for thirty,
years. Being the longest engagement
of which I had ever heard or read, l:
was interested to know the ending of
a story so unusual in life.
Some years after, meeting a former
guest of the House of Veils, I asked:
about Miss Abigali Adams. Tha
mother had outlived the son!
A sad and lonely old woman was still
living in lodgings, looking back to the
pride and selfishness of her youth,
which had cost ber a hone and all that
home might mean.
FATHER'S PERIL.
What Would You Have Done Had Vow
Been In His Peace?
Just three or four time yellowed pages
in an old colonial diary. How the man-
uscript came into my possession is im..
material. l3uthere are two paragraphs:
"February ye tenth, 1628. This day
a most terrible thing happened to Fa-
ther. It hath been a long, cold winter,
and ye members of our little Colony
have suffered grievously, supplies be-
ing scant. Our larder be.nn well nigh
bare, my goodly father started forth in
search of game. Of late it hath grown
exceeding difficult to obtain powder
and lead. Father had but one charge
left for his trusty blunderbuss; but,
being a famous shot, be had no doubt:
that this would prove sufficient to
bring down Some wild creature that
the household might be supplied with
meat,
"He had Wandered some way frons
ye settlement *heti he sighted A wild
turkey perched on a limb. !Drawing
near, he took rim. At this tnotuent k
skulking savage leaped frotn behind a
tree near bye An arroti - hurtled ;past.
dear father's head, barely missing Ilan.
Quickly he turned_ his -blunderbuss upon
ye savage and prepared to fire.
"Mit y'ethordghe came to hltntlett
wife and thihdeen 'were In dire 53raite
for focal, Having but 'the ent,ldhot,
what should he do? To slay ye ltiirrtge,
Weald mean that. ye turkey stoeld ter-
rale. To shoot le turkey t'oitia 1?lipe
tat** it 1111eiet vlh ye crifei i'et
skirt NMGnie itltllty 'iii li t d; bdt.
auddenit .determining repo!+ a born
0or1i'+4 ai11b:toelt*!?tend' ;ak sired ,Ido(Alew'
Her* Ube ,manuscr
manuscript UreytkMt Wlk. 1"M,.
eotr'y ibM t ever ran ircr"ew the e'.ltok<,
found ?hist!. --Waiter" G. DetY'in tom,;'