Loading...
HomeMy WebLinkAboutThe Exeter Times, 1888-1-12, Page 32,2401:01MOM'IVAPeArtg"'41......ttl. 'Orit&P40,50Fffek4e4S1TWAMOlitaaalanir •0 [1,Tow Fross PtrimiSlinn.) eAra, Buenas Resenvine I argued passionately with himself. The per- son at Ye'oodley bed elwaine said so. Hie ksg Ietet „ eg,, 4 nee from another world never eamo back now I seee al 1 muddled with long hours of werk. Spirits re 'el 11, , - •iet,l'-* eerele bed Played hiln a trick. Hhead was ie' deycooldoote s to trouble their worst exienies. le b. KV /ENGLISH CD1111'.11STICIAS STORY. And yet he was eure-os eure es of his By ADELINE SERGEANT, looked at hirn out of ehe darknose of the un - own existencetha -t George Dene's face had Author of "Jetoosx's Wren," "Uwe) en 111,5,LOII PEETzlions" deo lee lighted. street, He had been absorbed in his own thoughte. epee& for a moment. She quidled a littl e before the fire of those desk ()yen and be thoughte herself of some words that he mother had let fall in the early days of he A marriage with George Done. Was it pee " able that this man, Stephen Hatfield' ha e once wanted to marry her? She fele een sation of alarm at the thought. , e But after a moment's spec°, tlae light died out from Hatfield's eyes, and he looked down in his usual sombre, brooding fashion. III. A woman, carrying 0 child, stood inth gesden-path. Her bath was to the wester light, which had nearly died out of th even,dy sky. Be Ow that he was tall an slight, and that she trembled as she Moo before him. „Her 'dregs was black, and th sleepy child nestling in hey arms wore black fide too. " Doee phill, ien Hatfield live here ?" eh oohed in, eeeeee,4 unsteady voice. The to des thrilled him. To his ear the were wond,erfuIly sweet, Where had h heard that voice before? "Yes. I'm Stephen Hatfield." "You -Stephen Hatfield e" Then her voice broke. She let the) cliff slip gently from her arms to the ground an stretched out her shaking bands. "Oh Stephen, Stephen, don't yoa know, me I'm Grace." His fee() blanohed to an awful whitener He looked over her shoulder, away into th distance, as if he saw some one behind her. 1 But there was no accusing figure at he back, no ghostly voice came out of tho oloora requiring at Ms hands the blood of the ma, whose life he had virtually taken. His eye wandered book to her, end he said in a hoarse whisper: "Grace, is it you ?" "Yes, Stephen," sho said, sobbing, "ani' Ien in sore trouble." His face hardened he thought he knew what she was going to say. She went on; "It's nigh upon. three months since George left me." And then she broke into a wailing cry, almost like a elniek, and put her hands before her face. "And now he's dead," said Stephen, scarcely knowing what he said. The words gave her a shock. She let her hands drop and gazed at him with wide- open, panic-stricken eyes. The child. clung to her garments, frightened by what she heard, and still more by the sight of this strange, dark men. " Oh no, no" cried lairs. Dene. "Why should you say he's dead? Have yon heard of him, then? Oh no, he's not dead, Ste- phen I Tired of me, perhaps," the •said, sobbing, " a.nd gone to seek his fortune -or ill in hospital may be, and not able to wriee to me -but not dead, Stephen, nay, not dead 1" He did not know what to do with a woman in such a par:lesion of grief; he took hold of her hands and ,gently drew her within his door. Maine thought was to screen her from the uiCkind notice of passer•s-by, but once inside; /Ipre hospitable thoughts oocur- red to him._- !'You'd better come in and sit by the fire," he said, awkwardly. "Don't take on in that weey, Grace. I thought you meant •ine to un erstand that George was dead. If it ,is as u say -why,, no doubt, he'll be back ag before long.' Elefferned his back on her as he spoke, and led the way into the kitchen. " You've not heard •ot him then ?" said Grace, commanding herself and following him obediently. "He's not been here ?" "No," he answered in a low voice; ee he's not been here." He could not tellher the truth. He world pome clergyman, some person in author- ty, toelet her know that George was dead, He shook all over at the thought of telling her himself, No -not yet; in the morning, ' perhaps or in a day or two— "Sit down," he said, lighting a candle, and hurriedly stirring the dying embers of t he fire. "You'll be tired if you have come from Woodley to -day." She opened her great dark eyes with a look of pathetic surprise. "To -day ?"4 she -Said. " It's three weeks educe I left Wood- ley. I walked moat of the way. Look at my shoes." Re had heard no footfall on the pavonmet, e had seen no figure miming towards him, and - yet, without warning, the dead man's face, ✓ white, xeigid, stertiehad hovered before his ✓ eyes. If he had been able to move, it seem- - ed to Stephen that he might havo touched d those pallid feetures with his hand. etienac- - bag, arousing, reproachful, all at once, those eyes which had once been so friendly sought his own ; thou for a moment everything grew dim to Hatfield's sight. When he recovered his calmnees there wen nothing to be Soon. The vision had faded away into the dark- ness, and, he went unhindered upon his way. But from that moment he was free no more. The face haunted him. Now • and then he saw it in a crowd; once in a railway carriage; several genes at his window be- fore the blincle were down at night. It came to him in his dreams ; the memory of it, the fear of it, haunted him night and day. The dead main would not let him rest. Ho begen to look wild and haggard, to oast strenge looks over his shoulder, to mut. ter to himself. "Hatfield's going out of his mind," one cif his oompanions whispered to another, "He's might' qaeen" Even Grace, with all her plamidity, wondered at and pitied him. She was never afraid of "No," he said, "I've never been married,' 7 When he opened the door of the room up. stairs, he seemed to feel that mine explama- tion of its disorder was required. I've had. noboay to do for me lately. d The place is like a pigstye, but maybe you A can manage with it toenight. Is there any- " thiug Oan get for ye ?" ; The manner was rough, but the kincllineast of his meaning unmistakeable. Grace thank- ed him and held out her hand as she said good -night. He did riot seem to see it; ho turned his back on her and went down- , stairs. She alept long and heavily.When she 11 awoke and dressed in the morning, Stephen ad already gone to his work. He had lighted the fire and left food ready for hor- sed and ehe child ; he himself had taken his dinner with him and. did not mean to be back till evening. It was after eix when he returned. As ' soon as he set foot within the house, he was oonsiciotes of a change in it. Grace had been busy. To make the place clean and tidy was her way of showing gratitude. The kitchen fire was burning brightly in a clean, grate, the floors and tables had been scour- ed, and the cookiag utensils cleaned. There was an air of neatness, almost of brightness about the rooea which moved Hatfield to wonder. "What have you heen doing ?" he said, rather roughly. Only tidying etp a bit," Grace answered. "1 hope you don't mind ?" she added meek- ly, seeing an inexplicable, expression upon his face. "Not a bit. Do what you like," he re- plied, bending his brows. She looked at him in silent wonderment, never suhpeoting that he felt a great throb of anguish and sharae at the notion of her working for him -the man to whom her husband owed his death. After tea, she began timidly to talk to him about her position. She was possessed with the idea that George was somewhere in Redford and that she world be able to find him if she looked carefully enough. In the meantime she thought that she could earn a livelihood by taking in plain sewing, or going out chrumg-though this latter work, as 'Hatfield knew, would have been consider- ed far beneathher in Woodley. If she could find a cheap lodging for herself and child she would not treublee Mr. Hatfield any longer. There was a new humility in her voice that cut Stephen to the heart. no trouble to me," he said gruffly. He was sitting by the fire as he spoke, and just then something soft touched hie hand. He drew it away and looked down hastily. It was Polly, who had drawn a wooden stool to his side, and had tried to slip her little fingers into his palm. • She looked up at him sniffing, and put her little pink hand on his knee. After a moment's hesitation' he laid his rough fingers tender- ly upon itarid held it tb.ere. The touch sent a new seasation through him. It seemed to make the blood rush more quickly through his veins, to break up the ioe about his home. It influenoed his tone and look as he addressed the child's mother "You've no need to hurry yourself," he said, "take time. And don't go making en- quiries here and there and everywhere about Dene. • I'll do that for you. I should be glad if yoowould stop here a bit, and put my house straight. It seems to want a woman's hand. If George Deno's anywhere hereabouts, he'll find you, never fear. There's been some mistake, no doubt, and They were worn near y offlier feet. Hat- field felt his heart contraot with an unwont- ed pang of pity. He looked at the shoes, at the threadbare garments, at the thin, • Bunken face, and did not say a word. "1± was fine wether, most of the way,' race went on, half absently, "else I could never have done ie. We got a lift in a cart now and then. I could not bear to waft any longer. George had never written, but he told me before he went away that he was coming to you. Did you see him ?" . There was a scarcely perceptible pause before Stephen answered • No. My mother died suddenly onitheiday after ebristmas Day," she went on. " le took all the 'Annoy, I bad to bury her. I was g' with her -George had already sold our furniture and taken the money with him, and I expected him back every day. ll'he neighbours at Woodley began to say that he had deberted me, and I could not bear it any longer. I came after him -to Redford -to find you." "Whydid you not write ?" he asked. "I don't know. I did not think of it." e colour ebbed out of her face as ahe Ice, leaving her cheeks and lips as white mow. "You used to he his friend," she rmured. "Have you forgotten us ?" No, no. I have never forgotten you," !said, in a strange, confused way that deed her. "Here, I have made some Polly would like some milk, perhaps ?" How did you know that her name was said Grace, looking at him with die 'Ore hedidn't you call her so just .1 • null more and more troubled eehe reflected that he had the of information from her tired th dispite the matter. k at his bidding and saw r satiefied, and when the d she made an attempt to flank you for your kindneee, iid, timidly, Perhaps you 'lodging house where we can h It mud be a cheap one; b money." Ix well stay here," said Het- iping his eyes, and with a s of demeanour. "There's you like to use it. You lodging to.inorrovv." et our room-vvitat will yon ri 1 el$13k, y the fire here. I shall be &toed • Yon can't go from place or lodgings at this time of is asleep already." his offer thanktully. She laded, gentlenatured wo- treliant, and it seemed m- old be kind aua helpful to excuse for hating come Cventured to say : bu were married, perhaps, le would put me in the way full in the face, and aid net • • him, he was glad to aee. He could not have borne that. When he was, alone he used to cry out upon George Done s unquiet spirit to leave him en. peace. "What do you want, George ?" he muttered with quivering lips. "How can. I atone for what my hand has done? It's too late -too late; 1 oan do no- thing for you now." CHAPTER IV. • It had been the height of simmer when first Stephen Hatfiebd. saw that terrible vi- sion of the dead man's face. As summer passed into autumn, and autumn into win- ter, its recurrence became more frequent, and had a very disquieting effect upon Hat- field's nerves. It became plain to him that If be saw that face mach oftener he would have to give up his work. Eyes hand with grief and care. But jut then she thought may of his words. "Toll me what you mean," elle gasped out 13elow her breath. "Is George dead ? What do you mean?" "I mean, Grace, that 1 -1 --.killed your husband, George Deoe." A low ory eaoaped her lips. "Not by my baud," he amid, looking down at the thin Augers that shook as with an ague while he held them aut. "Not by my own hand. He came to me on Christ- mas Leve -e year ago this day -and the bells were ringing overhead as they ring now, He told me of his happiness with you, and I could not bear it. Don t you know, Grace, how I have loved you all these yearn He stole you from me, or I should have won you -I wear I should have won you if he had left me time. But he, took everything from me -home, wife, children; he had all and I had none, I was alone in the world ; a miserable wretch, oast off by God and man. I had no hope of happiness. Then be came to me and he spoke ef yon. I struck him -I thrust him out of my way. He fell over the line. I did not stay to help him up. I forgot that the express was near- ly doe. He must have been stunned -in- sensible -when the train mune His voloe failed him. He bowed himself to the ground, and lay at her feet. There was silence for a time. " God forgive you, Stephen," said the woman at lest,in a broken voice. • She sat very still, white as death, with the tears dropping over her pale cheeks. The gentle - as well as nee infinite sadness of her tonee, unloosed his. tongue once more He did not rise, but faltered out disconnected words and sentences that she could scarcely hear. You say Gocl forgive me, I bless you for those words." He dragged himself nestrer to her and kissed her foot. "1 do not ask ..you to forgive me ; it would be no use, I know. My life's not been worth liv- ing; the sooner it ends the better. I shall give myself up th the police this very night: I wish they would hang me and have done with it. When I am in my grave, Grace, perhaps, you'll forgive me then. My love, my love, you'll never know how muck I've loved you .And you world have loved me if I'd had the time ---"What voice was that which a listening ear world have noted? The creak of a latch, the sound �f a footfall on the thres- hold? They did not hear. "God pity you --God forgive you," said brain, all seenxed paralysed at times by fear Grace, with increasing agitation. "No, and agony. Greco, not knowing what was Stephen Hatfield, don't delude yoursel [ tor. But Hatfield shook his head. "No loved you, if we had lived Bide by side for a wrong, entreated him to see the parish doc- with a false belief. I should never have dootor can do me any good," he answered, thousand years. I never loved but one man gloomily. in my life, nor ever shall again; mei that, One day in December he came home and as you well know, was,George Ilene. And found her in tears.On asking what was you that killed him," she cried, bureting the matter, he elicited from her a tale of into tears; " ask God to pardon you, and how Polly had run in from the street, my- I'll pray to Him that He may; night and ing one that her father had looked at her morning Ill pray for your poor un - over the fencehappy soul, Stephen Hatfield; bueI will go "The child world not remember him," away from your house now, which I never ssi ' Hatfleld. • world have entered if I had known the " She s five years old, and she was very , truth • and never, never will I look upon fond of her poor father, said Grace. Then, ' your face again." wiping her eyes, she added indistinctly: She rose from her seat. Hatfield strug- " 1 thought -I thought I saw him myself gled into a kneeling posture, caught at her last night." • dress and pressed it to his lips. • But this was more than Hatfield could "God will forgive me if you ask Him," bear. He went out again without waiting he said. "You give me hope by that word, for the conclusion of her little story. "Are we ' all to be haunted by George Dene's ghost ?" he naked himself, almost angrily, "for me, it's natural enough. -but what have y " Grace Done felt a little hurt by his abrupt departure. She sat down and cried, cares- sed 'Polly, and gave herself up for a few minutes to the luxury of indulgence in her own quiet sorrow; but then she remember- ed that she had a good many things to do, and so betook herself, soznewlsat less tran- quilly than usual, to her household tasks. lt was Chriatmas Eve, and she had determ- ined that her own sorrow, her own sad memories, should not bring sorrow to other Grace. No, I shall never see you again. I don't think it will be long before I go where George has gone. Perhaps I may meet him eomewhere-perheps I may ask him to for- give e He has risen to'his feet and turned away. Grace gave a little cry. Who was it speak- ing ? Who was it standing in the open door? "No need thew° far for that, Stephen Hatfield," said a voice whioh had a strangely families sound. " I am here, and you may ask me what you like." The room swam before Hatfield's troubled eyes. When they cleared again he saw Grace clinging to a tall, gaunt, feeble -look- ing man, whose arms were clasped tenderly people. For Stephen's eake she meant to be around her, whose lips were pressed th her cheerful, and to make Lim think that the fair face. It was no dream 1 This was no was content. vision of the night. George Dene was alive to 4 the sir with some needlework. The night was fine hut windy, and on the wind there came from time to time the sound of the Christmas bells. Her hands had fallen oo her lap: her eyes were fixed in mournful reverie upon the That be did not come back and had come back to claim hie wife. Whal VARIETIES". The fact that ninety,five (Agar factories have ehut down in Havana will not diasurb the equanimity of our smokers. They know that the supply of " Havana" eigare turned out in New York tenement Minna will never grow less. The Imperial Goverunient is about to create a mtnisterebip of agriculture and Mr. Heory Chaplain, M.P. for Lincolnshire, is to be the first thecupant of the posi- tion. Mr. Chaplin is a pr•actioal and wealthy stook raiser, especially of horses, and a better selection could not have been made. Although an ardent men porter of the turf he was largely instrurnen- tal in having the money formerly distribut- ed all over the country in Queen's plates diverted to the dirmt encouragement of the ineorporeoard breeding of faria and other h • The colourmontroverey in the States goes bravely on and cannot but do a great deal of good in the way of elevating and strength- ening the colored race. • That the negro is ill-used in the South is now denied moat vehemently by those who claim to speak for the whites, In any case the coloured peo- ple have votes, are rapidly acquiring edu- cation and property, and they will soon show that they are not only where they are to sibay, but that they have both Oa° will and the power to make their rights reepect- ed and to maintain their equality before the law to all other citizens of whatever colour they be. Eighteen hundred and eighty seven closes with to -day and closes with rumors of wars and commotions. The whole world seems in a state of unrest and feverish agitation. Amording to many who pretend to know -the prophecies in the Bible there onglat to have - been war by this time. It now appears. that it is not to come on till the spring and that when it comes it is to be terrible. Tomer hopes that all such propheoyings of evil will fail to lent in an appearance, Ie is more than time that the world was becom- • ing wiser then to think that there is any profit, plesteure or glory in men hooking each ether to piecee and calling the butchery by some grand, high-sounding name. Some • All Irish landlords are not hard-hearted and unreasonable though some would like it to be believed that the most of them are both. The Marquis of Ely sometime ago refused a reduction of rent to the extent of 25 per cent. As the result of this there was & wholesale eviction of tenants. The Mar- quis, however, was resiolved to be quite sure of the wisdom of his proceedings and so he made a personal visitation of his Irish estates. The result was that he reduced the rents not 25 per cent. as- asked, but 50 per cent. He is going to reinstate all his evicted tenants and thus he has made himself the most popular man in the whole locality. • If all were as reasonable and as open to con- viction there would be fewer troubles either in Ireland or anywhere else. Is drunkenness any excuse for the corn. and setled right away by a duly appoint() at Arbitration teeurt, to whoa() final award both parties bind tleemselvea to eubmit In every way it would be cheaper and bet- ter, more dignified and more Chrietian. And it will have to come to that in the loog; run. Why not forthwith? Suppoao that war were to SINSUO over the dispute. What, then ? It is very evident that neither party eould conquer the other, though great and all but irreparable damage could be mutua,lly inflicted. Well, after the fight had lasted a few years and lives by the thousand and money by the million bad been loet.-what after that? Very likely a.. oonference about peace. Conceseion here, oonceesion there. This conquest given lip , and that, this bargain made and that, and• et last the whole thing settled, and ou termei which were just asiavailable before the fight, as after it. The only. thing wanting being the myriads of lives lest, and the millions of property wore° than desitroyed. "Anther cherished delusion may wel- be abandoned--namely•, that England ie be-- fore long to become a B,epublic. The Prince of Wales is forty-six years old -in the high, prime of life -charming in manners, of infi- nite tact, largely intelligent, and not without' ambition. Hisfoot Leon the steps ofthe throne,, which, in the course of nature, he will soon as-- cend ; his pleasure days are over, the mantle -- of the high reverenced Queen, his mother, will cloak the indiscretion of young blood, and he will make the ablest, most enlighten- ed King that ever wore the British crown-. He will be belled by the British people ma King and Eraperor of India, by the grace of ' God and right divine and hedged about by the divinity which' surrounds a British. monarch, there will be a revival of the enormous power of the royal prerogative= which an able and popular sovereign CW2, ' wield -a power whieh was used by thea Queen during,the Gladstone Government to, abolish the sale of Commissions in the army even against the express will of Parliament, and by Lord Beaconsfield in the acquisition of Cyprus. There may be a day in the future when England will have a govern- ment 'by the people and for the people,' but -, long before that day the corning King of. England will be gathered to his fathers.," Let it never for a motnent be forgotten that hotel and tavern keeping is in itself as , honest and honorable a way of making' a , living as any which could be mentioned.. The hotel in these days of travel is as much a necessity as a baker's shop. What bas. deteriorated and degraded the place and . the employment has been the sale thereof': intoxicating liquors with all its natural oar- - sequences. Get quit of that stain and the tavern immediately rises to a higher level. It is also true that from the enormous pro- fits derived from the sale of liquors food sank accommodation can be given at lower rates, than otherwise would be possib'e. It fol- lows, that when the sale of such liquors is stopped, the rates for food and lodging should be correspondingly raised. No doubt one half of the taverns in the country could_ not exist from a fair, honourable hotel bud -- mission of a crime, or ought it to Iless, without the mdiscrirainate sale che be looked upon an any reason for miti- gated punishment? A case has been decided in the Supreme Court of Kentucky to the effect that drunkenness is an ago o- vation of any orirae, not an excuse for it. "Our statute," said that Court, " makes drunkenness an offence and one crime could not -privilege another, the more especially as drunkenness is by far the most fruitful source of mime in our State." Any other view of the subject would be monstrous for a man if he meant to commit murder, would have nothing, to do but fill himself drunk in order to get off, say, with a sete tence of manslaughter or leas. The same rule holds good all round. Many a wife pleads for a brute of a husband that he is very kind when sober and that he is only rough -when drunk. Well, let him suffer r mordingly. It is worse, than madness to neglect a cough or cold which is easily subdued if taken in tirne becomes, when left to itself, the Lore -runner of consumption and prema- ture deatb. Inflammation, when it attacks the delicate tissue of the lungs and bron- o e put Polly to bed, and sat by was he saying? It seemed to Hatfield that ohial tubes, travels with perilous rapidity; have allowed themselves to be humbugged: liquor. Very well, let that half go into. some other calling and let the rest charge - fair hveng rates for what they actual- ; ly supply. The tavern -keepers of Neee 'panee seem th have adopted this plan. So - 'much for waterlog horses, so much for the use of a room and fire and so on. This is right and proper aud if generally adopted would be hailed by the general travelling! population with satisfacti ea. Why should people be obliged to buy either whisky or cigars when they dorec want them? Let there be a regular tariff for everything an& ell but whiskey &Akers will rejoice. , It is very evident that Precedent Cleve- land's message is already bearing 'fruit ande giving promise of an early and abundant harvest. Of course monopolists of aland sizes are up in mme, againet the ver k.zrtse idea of tariff relaxations. They cry out an bluster and -threaten at a great rate. The inevitable is upon them all the same and a- more rational system is evidently going to be adopted in the not -far-off future. And, no wonder. Indeed the only matter, for wonder is that the great mass of the Teeple, he's wondereng w y you on come Hz glowing embers of the grate, when tt sound eale, if only I could think so 1" said the at the door arrested her attention. Stephen poor woman, her eyes filling- with tears. mood in the doorway -the kitchen door "You dont know what it is to be pointed opened upon a little bricked yard -and his well all day, and I felt dizzy and strange. and jeered at as I have been in the village- hand was still upon the latch. A gust of They told me afterwards that I must have the wife whose husband got tired of her and cold air blew in, extinguishing the candle had a fever coming on, and that the fall - loft her in the lurch. He always seemed so at Grace's side. She spes.ng up, and then well, perhaps it made MO a trifle worse, proud and fond of nee. Doyon think it's stood stili.She could just see Stephens there was some sort of ooncusion, they.4a11ed possible that ha could get tired all at once face: there was a ghastly smile upon it that it. Anyway, I was found by the road side and go off without a word 9" made her heart beat strangely fast, and taken to a hospital five miles from Red- " I don't think it's possible," said Hatfield What is it, Stephen 2" she said, nervous- ford, and there I stayed. My mind seemed in a low voice. Ah, no 1 What maxt would , m gone, even when y body was stronger. I m cast away frohim this sweet wife, thi,e s " He lifted up one finger, as if warning her came fully to myself only a month ago. cooing, caressing little child? And he -he to be silent- " Do you know who stands Then I went to Woodley and found Grace •knew an well what George Dens thought of outside ?" he asked her, with the same weird gone. I hunted for her everywhere. Then these two, how ranch he loved them, and he smile upon his face. 1 saw him as I came I came here." dared not say a word to set the grieving ; I should see him still if I looked again. He stopped to embrace his wife once more woman's heart at rest. For, se it soon ap- Your husband, Grace -George Dene." and to glance at Hatfield, who was sitting peered to him, th'e doubt as to Gporge's love • "My husband 1" she cried, flinging up her beside the table with his face hidden upon was even more present to her mind than the hands. , his folded arms. uncertainty about his life. • " Not in the flash, Grace ; not in the flesh- "1 inquired about Hatfield, and little by Grace wiped the tears gently away, and Yon would not see him if you looked, but I little I pieced together the whole story. I sat silent for a little time with her, hands aee him -I see bim wherever 1 go. He was knew that he at least thought me dead. I folded in her lap. •She woe not given to hero at your window not long ago." saw Polly delay, and I had a glimpse of noisy demonstrations of any kind. When "Oh, Stephen, you frighten me 1" said you, too, Grace, but I did not know whether she felt calm enough th epeak she said Grace, sinking' down in her chair and cover. gently: • ing her face with her hands. • " accept your offer thankfully for a The eight of her tears colneed him. He ittle time, Mr. Hatfield. 11 I can be 01 1180 closed the door softly and advanced towards to you, I shall be only too glad, We often her, looking earnestly at her bowed head. alked about . you- George and me. You "I don't want to frighten you, Grace," d S on't know, meybe, how fond he was of be said. "1± was those accented bells that sent me home to you. They rang and rang Don't call me Mr. Hatfield," said till I could bear it no longer. Go back,g� tephen, rising suddenly. "Call me Stephen, back,' they said. Tell her the truth. Go s you need to do." Ho broke off the con- back.' And so I thouyht that if I came to ersation by going out of doors, and all you and told you the whole truth, I might hat Grace could do was gratefully to perhaps be delivered from the terror that cquiesce. follows me night and. day. Night and day, She settled down in her new home, and sleeping or walking, I see him," Hatfield went about her duties in a end but quietly went on with a atsirtled glance over' his ncomplaining manner which greatly inn left ehoulder, "and I know that he comes ea Hatfield. He wondered at this to punish me for What did. Perhams if I rail wonlan, suffering from a heavier load tell all the truth and give myself hp futon doubt and sorrow than any that he had yet know peace. The bells have driven me ad to bear, never repining, never showibg Toon L" or sullenness. She Was braver • " tub -why ? What do you mean, Ste- han he had been. Hi a thoughts were fill, phen ?" said Grace, beginning to tremble le with her night and day : as time went with an eneopeeeseoje fear, n, his remorse :or the past, though present, He took no notice of her question. ecame so blended with his love for het that "Lock at me," he said. " Illa,ve I not t boat its hardoese and painfulness, He suffered ? I the man I was a year ago? yen dreamed of a time when ho might tell I do not know how I live, how I eat or sleep. he or that George Was dead, and ask her to Tinleety that has fallen upon me is more e his wife. He could give her a peateful than I can hear. For I never meant to be a ome, a sure, strongioVe : would she refuse nuirderer, Grace; I never meant to hurt ID gift, him thoudi I thruat hita away from me He dreamed thus one night as he was and struck him it:my wrath, Grace, Grace, calking home from his work, which, on this believe me, I never meant to harm a hair of melon, had been prolonged until cloven his head l" 'clock. Ifie house was near the station, He fell down oh his knees before her as ut two or three not very respectable little he voice, stretohiog out his hands to her in tracts had to be travorved loefore he reach- a blind groping way, She drew back an d and it Was in one of these streets that ineh or two looking at him with a strarigo Eia* a Sight whieh froze the blood within expression'two, of repulsiott, half of pity, in es veins. her eyes. In after days his ftme came back Was it George Donee ghost? th her tia ahe had hem it then, and the re - There Were no such things as ghosts, he • membered how waited it wes, hew worn he could scarcely hear for the tumultuous beating of his heart, the surging trouble of his brain. "I've been in hospital until a fortnight ago," George said. "1 lost my memory for a time. It was some other chap who was lulled by the express, not me. I got up after you pushed nee away, Stephen, and walked oat of the town. I hadn't been 1 you had a place for me in your heart or not. I thought-snall I tell yen what I thought ?" then do not delay, get a bottle of Bickle's Aug Consumptive Syrup, the medicine that grasps this formidable foe of the human body, and drives it from the system. This medicine promotes a free and easy expec- toration, subdues the cough, heals the diseased. parts, and exerts a most wonderful influence ID curing consumption, and other diseases of the throat and lungs If parents wish to save the lives of their children, and themselves from much anxiety, trouble and expense, let them procure a bottle of Bickle's Ana -Consumptive Syrup, and whenever a child has taken cold, has a cough or hoarse- ness, give tbe Syrup according to direc- tions. The tavern keepers and their friends can- not apparently be 'brought to see that their resorting to violence and dynamite is injur- ingtheir cause more than anything which their opponents could either do or say. If tevern keepers don't violate the law, they need not fear all the informers on the face of the earth. If they do, why should they not be punished? Seth occurrences as those at Myrtle make the whole fraternity of whiskey dealers and whiskey drinkers stink in the nostrils of every decent man, whether he happen to be a total abstainer or not. It is coming to be exactly as it was in the days of slavery and of the agitation against and fleeced for so many yearn They are finding out that they have been mitnufac- turing millionaires, that they have had to pay double taxes, one th the public trease ury and another to the protected interests. In short, the farce and the fraud. are being. found out and an ever growing number of the public are wakening up to the conviction , that they have been fools and simpletons. If. Governments would only content themselves. with carrying on the legitimate dutiesfor the, disol-arge of which they are appointed and would place as littee hindrance as possible - in the way of people trading wherever they - think they can to advantage, what a mercy it would be. The process of enlightenment is very slow, but still the trend is getting,. more and more into the right direction. Custom houses may not be abolished for a good while th come, but common sense, ibis th be hoped, will get more and more into I he ascendant, and so far this is well. Let every one cultivate what they can do best and to personal profit, and let the peoples of the earth have every opportunity to have the freest exchange of their social produc- tions, There has been more tha,n enough of fighting by hostile tariffs. The nations - if wise will now choose a more eezeellent and a more Christian way. it.• The one system is, as the other was, barbarism ; ana in the one ease, as in the Don't Do it. "No,"the answered. heedWer hand upon other every deed of violence drives two or In harmony with the prevailing custom, nem snouia never have loved any other man but you." "Alt.so I leeterd you say, my darlinf • a.nd have always been. I had rancour in my his li "1 can guess Gorge But I three nails inth the coffin of the system in- tended to be upheld. With Grand Juries and Judges declaring that intoxicating li- quors are causing seventy-five per cent. of ell the crime and very nearly as much of the poverty of the country, +he liver men I know -I know-how true adnfaith st you heart againmy old friend here, -yes, I'll &Haim my friend, for X know how sad and bitter his life has been -but if I had any- thing against him, I forgave him ati I stood at his door and heard the Christmas bells overhead. 'Peace ancl goodwill,' they seem- ed to say. And I thoughe to myself,' Let by- gones be bygones between Stephen Hatfield and me l' Let us thank God that I have come back to you, Grace, and that our old friend Stephen can be our oldfriend still." Theyheard Stephen give a gasping, strug- gling sigh; almost like a sob. They waited Silently for a moment, but he (lid not lift his head. "Stephen thought he saw you -many times," said Grace, shuddering a little as he memory of hie words came back to her, "He must have fueled it. I ()tune to Redford yesterday -the first time for a year past. Come, Stephen, my old friend, lift up your head and give me your hand at ast." He put his hand oh Hatfield's shouldet ; a nd Grace boot over Man with tender words. You'll be our brother nbw, Stephen, and P ove US both as we love, you. Hark to the ° Christ:net: hells 1 I'eaoe and goodwilr- ° t'e twelve o'clock striking. • Christmas Day I Stephen, is happy Christmas I A 0 ought to keep remarkably quiet. Lventual- ly, they hurt no one but themselves by out- cry and violence. War between Russia and Austria is looked upon by those who claim to know as abso.' utely certain within two or three months. What the trouble is all about few if any are able to say. All protest in the most solemn anguage that ...peace is the great objeot of their most earnest aspirations and that they 1 would atiorifice any thing but honor in or• er o secure o that awfully bad neighbor 1 Russia, accord- ing to Auatria, won't behave herself, while Russia protests that she is aa innocent of warlike intentions es a nevvly christened hild.. So it goes on, and in due time those who have no quarrel whatever with each Aber, will be set to blow eaoh other into pace. Such is the civilization and cluistian- ty ot the day. As Canon Wilberforce re- marks, the only thing that Christianity I vants appears to be Christians, -yet all I h ill 0 • t b 11 " ' d t its 't ritienance But then - eople try to talk as if they believed that oe blather in the heavens had mode them, to, It is a frightfully revolting &the, and ministers of religion add to this hide - us piece of histrionics by conflicting lestppy Clerietatas to us all 1" But Sthpleeiee happy Christmas NVaS not of this world. prayers to the God of battles. And here is this wretehed Fishery dispute between the United States and Canada. Why Should smolt a'difficulty hot be settled, the reader, if a householder living in the country or in a country village, has probab- ly made arrangements for "banking up thee house" with earth, or straw, or stable lite ter, to keep the cellar from freezing. Ar- rangements of this sort are economical to - the extent that it ie a good meansof pee - venting freezing in the collar, but it is, a very costly proceeding in relation th health. An unventilated cellar filled with vegetables • and various decomposing substances IS often, a most prolific source of disease, pouring up a constant stream of geheous 'poison into the living -rooms above. Vegethblecellars should be wholly disconnected from human habita- tions, 1.1 they must be tolerated, they should be well Ventilated. A Domestic Saone. The young mother set in a hew,easy roob m before the fire, het babe sleeping quietly on her knee, axed, although all was fierce and blustering without, everything wan quiet and cosy within. Gentle peace reign. ed in the household that night. "kfy dear," said the lady, turning to her husband, who was calmly enjoying his evert. ing paper, "isn't it is elltiOtia thing that swans shonld sing jost before they are going • 13 • "No more so," he replied, gazing infant's faoe with anxions fear, "than that babies ehoold smile just before they are golieg to raise the roof off with colic." And presently all wag fierce and bluster - lite within. • The grovels% Lemmata novae' crop protease ati to be the beet yield aline the war.