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HomeMy WebLinkAboutThe Exeter Times, 1884-7-17, Page 2BY MA! AGES Fl. �1tIliltl, Annum of Silent anal 2'ras,"' „ Mod .?Jar- rias',"' Ori* Night's :Mystery,'" ate., do,, dc. PART I. is mine eyes slut is the sweetest lady that I ever Iooked on. nem Ann anour :,o'rnrse. CHAPTER XXYII. "" roaeu e U 1N0s 1N Some meat T'$AZ ARE NOT STEERED," It is the afternoon of a raw and rainy October flay. An express is tllnndering rapidly Il tnewwar'i in even more of a hurry than u,ua1, for it is trying to make t - r , hour of lost time. In a t A temelt titer its by .lin. self; a ••auto. bine from- heath f to foot,the s;•1,.Ill, of ,toady travel. IIo is big, he is hrowo, h bag dark. rvsn:ute ; :.t tee :: gentle Bald strain;, thly rete 1ert.31 Tho mouth ,nits tho • it s . eel,lt s- cut, ;let _"rinttt,• i• loot's- twith j11 -t t°.•.t ilnteard cnr : t; the fire glee. ;ens' et.il it wail.] tnif. be necessary t:) explain in the po:At .•f it iolzo to biol. 11: , h dr is prom; awl ,lark,: sprinkled •t ;zt;-le with gray, though be looks nu more >re tlian forty, an, i .'1 iii='!in- (4 „•., l.,..li Ann s';irl. II', ; ,tire 1.. 410111,1ter:I .';nth shred t.1it'3a give hint 41. littlx'the loon of at mutt' y man. But he is not; he is only a. mut'? zstt[l b;'i'C11 later, cordite to Rtiel •uteri: pro:dntgta sojourn ia, I-".'. ,=sa tenth th East. 1 few ditye ago 1 tanned at Marseilles, now he i$ -,it4 •:x A = long ata thuut Bring rats' tc+;s l *n Holy i"'ty, anti .a remain ratty t,,t : ne d ;-o reg fr:ell111e ex- pects to lien there. with Rene won't t l.uow me ww it«t all the beard elf," he thinks, stroking from 1:ulitold the place who're e limey mous- i be „ w 'v tache u used to ., It was a p t�, but it lead to go, It was se confoundedly het there" in Cairo I Wou;d Lave tatcon off my the h s well, if I could, and sat in my itonc. Let us llo1l a no one who ever 'knew me hi the nil days will be g. _ , leafing :theta Route, If so,1 t nc. 1 sial l be ,, found ant to. dead i w•. " unl•a leaicertzllt J For it 11, Paul F:trr,tr, nlitillrl that silky Week -brown beard, and drooping mous- tache that became him so wwll. The Omega alters him wont1erfallyg. It is the George V;[ entiuo of two•and. twenty years ago;; somewhat bigger, somewhat browner, much more manly and clistingttisllotl.looking,but otherwviso so much the same bright, boyish -look- ing George that any one who had ever known him in those old days—before he was drowned in the Belie O'Brien—must have recognized him now, despite that .uelancholy fact, almost at a glance. "t If I were going to the New World now," he thinks, half smiling, as they sly along, "instead of the very oldest city of the old world, it would never do. I don't covet recognition at this tato 'lay. No good could come of it. I am unforgiven still, anti (everything is alis. i posed of, as it should be, to the little one. Pity she married Sir Vane —never will be half good enough for her, let him try as ho may. But I don't think he will try. Rene would have suited her— pity, again, they could not have hit it off. Not that madame would ever have consented :her hopes and ambitions are the same to -day as they were when her only son disappointed her, like the headstrong young fool ho was. Ah, well, these things are written in Allah's big book it is all Kismet together. Whom among us is stronger than bis fate ?" The train stops at a station and Mr. Farrar gets out to light a cigar and stretch his legs. A. drizzling rain is falling, a chilly wind is blowing, he pulls down his felt hat, pulls up his coat collar, and strides up and down the platform during the few minutes of their stay. Doing so he glances carelessly into the carriages as ho passes. One, a first-class compart• ment, holds two elderly women, a lady, evidently, and her maid. The lady, a grand -looking personage,,. of serene mien, and silvery hair and face, rests against the cushions with eyes half closed. Tho servant sits near the window and gazes out. M sight of these two 1!r. Farrar receives such a shock that for a moment he stands stock-still, a petrified gazer. His face pales startlingly under his brown skin, he Iooks as though he could not believe his own sense of sight. The woman looks at him, sits up, looks again, with a low, frightened ejaculation, and glances at the mistress. Asecondlater, she looks out again—in that second he .is gone. ""What is it, Tinker ?" asks, wearily, Madam Valentine. "0h, madame ! my dear mistress, I saw a man, only a glimpse of him, but it made me think of—of—" "Well?" pettishly. "Master George. It was that likehim. Dear heed ! what a start it did give me, to be suit." "Nonsense," madame says, sharply. "How can you be such an old idiot, Tinker. You should have more regard for my feelings than to speak that name in that abrupt way. Does it still rain ?" Wearily. "Tinker, I wonder where my dear child is by this time ? "In better weather .than this, poor lamb, wherever it is," responds Mrs. Tinker, with a shiver. "Lawk l my lady, I feel chill to the bone. I do hope now Anselmer will see to the fires all through the house, It would be the very wust thing that ever wus, for .you to go Into damp rooms after such a jour- ney as this." "Do you think she looked happy, Tin. ker, when we left ?" pursues madame, unheeding .the westher, absorbed in thought of her resigned treasure "She cried, of course, at the parting, but do you, think able looked happy, and as a young bride should? I grow afraid some. times -,-afraid " "Mel!, ma'am, to speak plain: truth, Sir Vane ain't neither that young, nor that pleasant as he zuiglltibe, I always thought bine a molloncholy.and sad gen- tleman, myself. But tastes differ. .May be Miss Dolores is happy:" Mrs. Tia- ken's face, as she says it, is dismal be - yowl expression. "" I'm sure I hope and pray so, poor sweet young lamb—no more fit to be used 'had than a baby. But--" Shebreaksoff ashermistress has clone unfinished sentoncea best ext press their fears. Botli are filled with foreboding and vague regret, now that the deed is done beyond a.1 recall. Her darling is not happy -sl a sees that at last. And the fault is hers—she who would give the remnant of her old life to snake tier so. She has, inti nettles at Ioast. torea'a tier into a hovel '. i* ar,i:t a with a 1 to doll- bii' 1 r a,c. ,. -:1 ; i is -t Ills 1 .1 incl met; : -. man n' ;nmor• reliable of se t" -e sr, t*etil a'r, beantv, pest1:, he li:is t, ., a t t= 's of them, a gi'' ,a f t : t ', ., t I-., -Welt (ictal. Flee child ti•e.,.•l t4, ,•;pain with her, anal she forced ht.a from her—thrust her into the arms of Vane Valentine. Ana now that remorse. and Narrow, ani. leer, conte np, pntts . its to•, lata'` ---for all time, trio tit© The train rusher. -a'ong on its iron way ; t veniug is eln}:ie , fogey, 1111d w: i, b, , :tit. wt t `illi dozes a. littl" a. -t she ; -Ely ., t n.. the stuffy c13-:hions, lent .file i:i too filled with u'.tr,•,e to 1,14, f,. 1n tlirt,a w c't'lts now sate t= the 11.; ':it , anal sit°" and her f:':ithfnl "3:t^4Ie.1,ti.. jewen,•virg bee's to '{fifth?, .t" ,,'.t -spring st' t--1 rig;'t'7Iti the winter. :,+ . ,. +lift,!„ t:• newly ;A'• .1411 la it 41r4, tog:, t.a It-:-1- kun'el.. .i1 ::1 . ';hitt.(.. •l: ell t.1 ;. r;.: them; for e, �ira,'.a,•1 '.i visit. -"1'h .t le the pro- gramme, it an is % eil. But will all be \ veil. Le happy ? The look of pale, s11r:z11,ing t',Irof thin[, e itlt wvhieltl 1'. r 'i',ar"ii;g cl;leg to her, just at the 1'4trtieg, Balite here -will haunt her ]night ;cud they, 'u•til they fleet again. Is MAO afraid oi;Vane Valentine ? ""Olt ! Inw dearest, my :sweetest 1" the poor ofd lips murmur in the darkness, ""if I had you 1'aek—ail Ndy GUM onto more—no Mall sl'xottlal t.tlt. ,-cu1 fe+na ane, unless you went with a glad and willing heart."" And then there rices before her a plan's face ---:a tl:arL, ticl a..a head, a. t;raFtivmlle deep, tiCXi0n71 b[Qwwn llgure, •i•*1 1 slender, strong vf,un b" t.re a 3 t. cR 'a 7 1 l ?•L" n 3 1 r 1 to t ,tli'brow, 1t 4 thew fat, t a ,sir Vane's, a fitting mate. ('vt'u in beauty, for the golden- haired heiress, "tilts: "loved hint," T'la4lame t11it1I;s, with a. tang ; "' and he is worthy of her. If I had given her to him, she would nave been happy. And I might have haft her near me always—always! What will life be like without her ? Poor ? Yes, he is poor ; but tie has talent ; he wilt win his way .; and as she aain1 to me with her pretty, baby wisclout --is money everything ? My little love! why diff I give you to Vane Valentino ? But lie will not dare to be unlari:l to tier; do the fortune is hers ; there is too much ;;t ,take." B4 this is poor comfort, and her heart is fiery heavy, as they speed along , through the wet, wild night, and the windy darkness, toward the many to - wars, and palaces, and bells of Rome. Suddenly --what is it ? There is a swaying of the carriages, a dull, tre- mulous vibration, the sound of many voices, of women's sereams, a shock that is like earth and heaven striking to- gether, and then—nothingness. "Clear theway! plot me • throug• h 1" cries out an impetuous voice, and anion ' strides between the affrighted throng, suddenly huddled here on the wide Caurpat'na. Overhead there is the black, wind- swept sky ; beneath there is the sodden, rain -swept grass, the wrecked train, wornen and children, terrified, hurt, talking, sobbing, screaming—confusion dire everywhere. Those who are safely out are trying to extricate those who are still prisoners, foremost among them this tall, sunburned man, who forces bis way to one particular wrecked car- riage, and wrenches open the door. "Mother !" he cries ; "" Mrs. Tinker Are you here ? For God's sake, speak!" There are groans ; they are there, but past speaking. Mrs. Tinker is not past hearing, however. Through all the shock of pain and fright, she hears and trembles at that call. Help comes, they are brought out, both hurt, Madam Val- entine quite insensible. Mrs. Tinker looks up through the mists of what she thinks death, and triea to see the face on which tile lamp -light shines, theface that is bending over her mistress. "Bid him come," she says, faintly; "bid him speak to me again before Idie! It was the voice of my own master George !" He is with her in a moment, holding her in his arms, bending down with the handsome,tenderface she knows so well. "My dear old friend !" is what he says. " Master George 1 Master George! my own Master George ! Has the great day come, then, and the sea given up its dead, that I see and hear you this night ?" ". Dear old nurse—no. I never was drowned, you know. It has been a mis- take all these years—it is George Val- entine in the flesh. Do not talk now -- lie still -we will take care of you. I must go back to my mother." "My dear mistress! is she much hurt? "Very much, I fear ; she is senseless. .Take this stimulant, and keep quiet. You are not going to die -do not think it." But Mrs. Tinker only groans and shuts' her eyes. She is bruised,'and broken, and crushed, and, hurt, but no bones are broken, and her injuries.are not serious. She is so stunned;and bewildered with fright and pain, that she can hardly wonder or rejoice to find her Master George after all these years alive. The accident, after investigation, turns out to be comparatively slight. A few persons are hurt more or less, all are badly scared. Madam Valentine' t b the o 4 near now site is fitted f 81000 Fei sit appoa o e_ 9 . o 0 :seriou injufic That.s1ag'ts seriously there eau be noypestion. She:; ies,whiie they 'travel slowly lute Rome, in her sons firms, without signs of life. They reach tile great city, and she is driven slowly through the streets to the Casa Valentine, but all the while she lies like one dead. Mrs. Tinker, so far recovered already as to be able to sit up, chafes her' bands, and cries and lumen dully to herself, audalternatoly watches Master George. "Grown such. a line figure of a man, God bless him 1" she thinks admiringly. Anselemo, the major -dohs, awaits them; the rooms are warm, beds are aired, ail is in order. Madame is un- dressed and put to bed, the best medical skill in Rome is summoned, and when the sun is two or three hours high, she opens her eyes anti moans feebly, and straggles back paiufuliy out of that dins land of torpor, where size has lain so long. Struggles back to life, and pain, and weariness, and a sense of stiffing oppression tliat will not let her breathe, Mat -lama's mo"'s life is drawing to its close-- it is towartl evening, and the day is now f :r slle>at." Slle wwill Weser look her . ,, v � d r s'S n11, face u au# a iuflit world upou t, agora. 3Irs. Tu l i . t-$ by : hems. de -•-it is ou that ti araset he ,ier eyes first fall A gout or y ltisn;n,. S:ea,' ill. „t -.., 4' t tint Giese') j^l,1i1.i--it tVaai1. rnrtains to iirtl:ia, atu:1 ,?;l in .. •�+Q: t �• 11'(1'l.'t f1t ,. i.. 1 -"•` P, At { t,. •..1.i2 , ,•t'•. 1• ... :It . Tin, i .'r, 1, ..l 1:•-,; I'# telt. " Y!y Q l"ri ing 1" sh 3 w131sper3, " never (+,nniii._-., , • •:' i'" ti'1'4 world ,z�:,:111." For elle 1!1+11, 7 e truth. S is, , J 1 L 434 , tt.l, , lip � quite ellsa, and a ';:' t :si >lui:e d mum ell her lips, ; ae .e, , l•3"A . .. r ,,,.. 1V•'t•l,int servant by her File. �. "" My geed 0141 frit:;),i," ;the sit'.' , "• you will sae the last of 131e, after all. I used 1 to»wo..il7er sometimes, 7.tnker, which of � fes w:J1,1a go first." ;•':.ear[nlatresS, lay dear mistress " ,. et. or :110 new shocks. And she loves the child. Ne, he will not speak, " That reminds me,"" she says, faintly, t' you. are the baronet, not Valle, I did not: think of that before," "Do not think of it now. What does it. matter. Let it go." "It does matter. It, shall not go. Right is right," some of her old Wiper*. ons command flashes in her dim eyes, rings in her feeble voice, "You are the baronet, not he. You must claim your right, George. Promise me you will when I1 gene," "Mother, is it 'worth while--" "It is worth while—a thousand times. worth while. Right is right, I say. Hs is a just man with all leis faults ; he will acknowledge your superior eight. He has no shadow of claim on the title while you live. And the fortune isyours too—your daughter will resign it. It must be so, George—promise ulo." "l other—" "" Proneiso pee, if I to the content. Through my fault, through; my cruelty', you have lost both title and fortune. Let me do what I can to repair it. Be- fore those doctors in the next room, be- foremylawyer, myservants, I have alreadyaeknwledgd you , promise me • you will make the world acknowledge you, that yen will resume your rightful Ina@ r o ) m and snk, } ur place llthe world, Promise mo before I die. You cannot refuse the last request of a dying mother, No—lie enuuot, but be looks infinitely disturbed us be reluctantly gives the pledge. "I promise—to apt I?oloree knew," is what he slowly. says. You Bear this .. she asks, appealing, iu terrible earnestness to the two silent witnesses of the sceuc—Mrs. Tinker. anticline, bottle her, Rene 11lacdonultl. Mantling a;r, the toot nt the bell. "You aro Hennaing. HP'-: ":,..13• Done? Yeti will wwitne.� fa. +1't• that 114' ht't'p" his neige? He must assert his .dtliti. 1).,�m'e: voUr flictl l-- I commis -ion roti to tt"li tier this She will tin what is right I know ---it is a heart of gold. Anti it is her own Esther.. How glad the child will be. You will love her 'very much,. George, anti etre for her ? Do not let her husband be uultinal to her. He is ajastmau —Vane—but hard, and a little grins. When I am gone, Monsieur Rene, go to England, and tell the little one. gladly ' She will f,ladl} gave up -a fartilnr and a titlefor her father's , t er s sul,o. ,, tit tl mother, ear not. er you do wren to t agitate yourself in this way. Do not talk. Rene is going now. Will you say good -by to him, and try to sleep 3 "To sleep, to sleep," she murmurs, heavily. "I shall sleep soundly soon, my son --soon, soon. I am sorry to leave you. Do not go away, stay here with Me until the end." I, Iam not going, mother—it is Rcuo. "Addle, signore," she says, with R wan smile, "I like you, I always liked you. And you will toll my little ono when I am 'gone. Sho liketlyou, too—she liked. you best. I know it now, Do not toll Sir Vane ; be would not like it. Yoe, she liked you best." "" Her mind is wandering," her son says, hurriedly,bu h iquestion- ingly • 'o - ingly at Ilene he says it. glances the dim gray -green light of the death -room, he sees the profound pallor of the dark face. So, poor Reno 1 They watch by the bedside during the long, slow hours of the afternoon, Sho rambles sometimes, and murmurs broken sentences—generally, though, her mind is quite calm. George sits be her side, holding her hand, administer- ingstsmulants and medicines, watebing every breath. And so death Ands her when ib comes, quite peacefully and painlessly, her last smile, her last look, her last word for him. When Ave Maria rings out in tho pearly haze of twilight, Katherine Valentine lies d til 1 l t" the old servant sobs. 4'.1. nerd nli:,tre : , I alit ;afraid, some. 1 tiro(''—an imperione llUSteesa'." Sho sighs. glances at the statue, looks back w s ft,ll " i I should like to sca that pew; man before I die," She says; "I 4 itkt't! 1;303. 4'Mr. llaynay, lna'ara ? The young gt'utl meet t'1at mad- that?" "]ea; send for hisu, Ticker, will :ou?'I Tell Inc "--e, paipful et%rt--""Ilow�long i —bow long do thesdoctors give rx te? I see them in consnitatioli in the room be. gond. " Oh ! 1uy dear mistress," crying wild- ly, "not long, not long -.-till to•nwrro;F, they say," sobs choke Mrs. Tinker, "till to -morrow, maybe." A spasm cremes the stroug old. face. She shuts her eyes ani lies stilt. Then she opens tli eu again with the saltie earnest, wistful gaze. "Tinker, it is strange, but just at that moment, when the crash and the darkness came, I seemed to hear a voice, and it called ins, - -itsari l n'3tht! , It was the voice of 10y sOn.'.litis :---iiiytii'ar'lt."anson." Mrs. Tinker is on her knees by tbo bedside, with clasped Bands and stream- ingeyes. "Not dead, mistress! Oh, praise and thanks be. Not dead—not t • er deal . Li i ; 11�, all this time, anti with us now. It was his voice you hearth call— his owvu clear living voice. Mistress! mis- tress:" with a sere::n of affright, "aro you dying? have I killed you?" She has fallen back among the pillows, se white, so death.like, that Mrs. Tinker starts from her knees with that ringing shriek. The doctors fly to the bedside. It is not death, but a death -like swoon. " I told her, Master George, I told her, and the shock killed her a'most. Oh! do'ee go away, before she comes to again. The sight of you will kill her outright for sure." But George does not go. His mother's eyes open at the moment and rest on his face—rest in long, solemn, silentwoncler. "Mother," he says, gently, "dearest mother, it is I—George. Do younotknow me? Mother i" ' "My son." She lifts one faint hand by a great effort and lays it in his hand. Slio lies and looks at him with wide, dilating eyes, that have in them as yet only solemn, fearful wonder --no joy. "Dear mother," he kisses the other hand lying on the quilt, "are vounot a little glad. I love you, mother. I have wanted to come back all these years, but I was afraid—I was afraid I was not forgiven. Dearest mother, say you forgive me now 1" " His eyes, his voice, his words. It is my George—my George—my George 1" "You aro glad then, mother? You will say it, will you not? If you only knew limy. I have longed all these years for the words ' I forgive you.' Let me hear you say them -am." " Forgive you 1" she repeats. " 01). ! my God, it is I who must be forgiven. I have been thejiardest mother the world ever saw. Forgive you 1 My best belov- ed, I forgave you long ago. I forgive with all my heart. Oh! to think of it, to think of it ! a wanderer and an exile all these year*, and all the while, my own son, my heart has been breaking for the sight of your face. If it is death that has restored you to me, then death is better than life. My son 1 my son ! kiss me, and say you forgive me !" He does as she bids him, and his tears fall on her face. " I can die now," she says.; " tell them all to go, while we bless God. 'For this my son was dead and is alive again, was lost and is found." It is noontide of another day. They are again together, there in that darken- ed room. The rose light floods the pure, passionless, marble face of Doloroe. The dying woman so lies, propped up with pillows, that she may see it to the end. For even the son who sits by her sidecannot drive out of her heart her other darling. "And: then it is only loving you in au - other way, for sheds yours," she say:. " I love her for your sake as well as for her own, my George." He says nothing. His brows contract a, little—there is something he would like to say, but the end draws very CHAPTER xxvm: EIS DRE Abis HE SHALL SEE 'TREE ,AND ACHE." The studio, the late afternoon lights filling gayly its high chill length. The sculptor stands busy, his fingers deep in moulding wet clay, two swinging bronze lamps sparkling like fire -flies in the half light. The autumn day has been damp and dark, the sky out there, seen be- tween the wet vines, is the color of drab paper, a fog that London could not sur- pass shrouds the Eternal City. Look- ing rather moodily out at it, sits George Valentine, ensconced in a groat carved and gilded chair, and encircling himself with a second fog of his own making, the smoke of his cigar. .noth are silent, the younger absorbed in his clay cast, the elder in his thoughts. A week has passed since the funeral. Presently George Valentine leaves off staring at the yellow fog, : and turns his attention to the artist, still busily absorbed in modeling his wet clay, and stares at him. " What an odd fellow you are, Rene 1" is what he says. Rene looks up. It strikes Mr. Valen- tine, as it has not struck him hitherto, that his young friend is altogether too worn and hollow-eyed for the number of his years, and that ho has grown more taciturn than he ever used to be. "What is it you say?" Rene asks. " I say you are a queer fellow. Why, look here. :For the past sixteen years or more you have known me. as Paul Farrar. All in a moment, as it must seem to you, I start up, like the hero of a melodrama, not myself at 0.11, but somebody else ; not Pani Farrar, but the long -lost son of a lady you very well knew, a Tichborne Claimant No. 2. You are summoned suddenlyto a death- bed ; eathbed; you meet me there,' under another nameand identity, and you accept the metamorphosis'' without, question or comment. Over two weeks have gone since then, we have met daily, still not a word. 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Browniug, prop• jy 25, fiut0111111012 .0011111 - How Lot11 ow Restosed f wwc have recently published u new edition -0 DR, f:iJLw'k;1iH";IToL'S tl;f,l:l31tATFI1 F.ti a>« en the radical and permanent onre (without me- tkteluo)ofNervousDebility-,l eutel and physicai Incapacity impediments to Afartlege. etc.. re. suiting alon1 excesses Price. in seairtlt'alyvlot+e.ouly E: ecntrt, nr tact, PM,t1i"e estaii:l .i. rho cel eke tedauthor ofthis adu3tratltcssay ;oleadctielil.Annt',5tesarett_ tl,lrtw ycb£s' st;eecQF- rflllpractice, filetall#r'w'iligC0neegueUCCSn'ac.l,o. 4 .dicaUy0gre.1wttilouttho Alan$erolIa 1334004 ii! rintlIs ed,cinesartboso 44 the knife; Potnt• ; o"it algid,' of cure at once simple certain and or - 4 fecte a1.1, t-4fectuel,1* 111'4u;s01whicheverysu:tcrer,=ncre:et- iterwhathis condition may bo.tnay eurohi n elf eh.)aply,privately and radically. t 'TUi lecture should bele the hands -if ever; yonthand every man in the land. Aoldrer, TIiP 01114VitatWELLMEDIVAIrCo -i1 .ANN r.,Nl WwOit% °Ince Pox 130 r� . jjoLLAI)OLL SEWING MACH NE R THE b':ttuft'SEWING MA(`HINl:. Althaugb this twelve elute nu is offered at the unheard of and iidicutous loww price of 1:4, it must flit be 1 1I,' u that t 1a oIttv11 d tltewa k et al tr, 4 iati t. l a x l I 3 any mere Domain swifter, and 414 to es yell It 11 constructed upon nave 410. scientific print• toes and i, simple in construction, easier worked and less liable to ,;et our of order than any Ma. chine in the world It makes the same stitch as the lowlier matinee in tate' United States The principle of construction is entirely new. and novhd0wber avcte pdehn1ed tc3pvt he spreerdO2 news To UAnn P. s fora short time clay, well knowing that every lady with want one Full 411- coettons with each machine Agents Wanted 7 o CO.,DETROIT, cl r MICHIGAN. ANRFIJ alt FTIi 1 HAMILTON Cotton Company, HAMILTON, oNTAIZIo. S"A:i1'FiCY V812I1S Or COT' CON YARN Wldteand Colored, Singleand Double CARPE:i WARPS, White and all Colors, BEAM WARPS of every description, Hosiery Yarns Balled ,and Knitting Yarns OF EVERY VARIETY, DENIMS, TICKINGS and COTTONADES. These floods are universallypronounced bw the trade to bo fully equal to any made, and for re. gnlarity and evenness= make and coloring they areunanr;sassed. CARPET WEAVERS—You will find our Warps superior to any in the Market ; we ask youlnet to give them a trial. If your Dry Goods man has not got it write to us and we will see you aro promptly supplied OUR YARNS, of which we make all desorip- tionswillbe found equally good. Ask for them. Try them.. This Company was awarded two Srstppriso sit. vermoctets at Toronto Exhihitionin 18Hr, and 3 first prizes at ProvincialEsbibtiou at Kingston 1882. .AGENTS .,Torouto F. Mc- PLER1aY Rc 00,.1alontreal. 1 13.8m REMOVAL ! REMOVAL ' THE GENERAL QUESTION Agitating the Public mind at present is where can they get the best Bread, but this matter can be settled' to the entire satisfaction of • the people of Exeter and surrounding country, by calling on JOHN LL, the old established and reliable bakery, where they will find jest what they want. A Superior quality of Bread always on Hand Also a first-class stock of DIMWITS, Buxs, Crams et CONFECTIONARY, which will be s d cheap. While opponents have started bu:_�., ., nese and sold out andleft the place,Mr. Bali' has been found at Itis _post, duing the past eight years, ready to attend to the wants of the Public. CIROOENL S. Owing to increasing business, ' Mr. 13eii ha found it necessary to remove to more con; modious premises, and has added iargely to his stock of Groceries, and will keep on hand Sugars, Teas, Coffee, Syrup, and everything usually found in a first-class 'Grocery Store. All kinds of 13'arin Produce tak- en in exchange for �taoods. REMEMBER VIE STAND :--Southeott's Block, Fourdnors North Post Office. JOHN BELL, Draurie",o