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MAKER X1,-.(0manatreal.)
"Yea are fond of the opera, mademoi.
eelle?" asked Illorestan.
'tea, I eve geed amain wherever it is
to be beard, bet the opera moat of all, Ib
is another world. 1 forget everything while
I am there."
Her face kindled a little aa she spoke.
The light was not a Vivid light, but it was
at least an awakening from the dull apathy
he had noticed. before. "
a'I &soul(' like to send you. a box for the
opera some night, if you will allow me," he
aid. "I know some great ladle% wile are
occasionally generous to me, when they
don't care about occupying their boxes.
May I seize the first opportnnity and send
you oriel"
"I shall be very grateful to you. '
' He was studying her face while he talked
to her. The features were delicate and
regular, the eyes were atilt beeutiful; hue
sorrow had plowed deep lines about them,
and had set its marks upon the broad white
brow. Marred as it Wee by past suffering,
he liked her face better than her
couein's. That type of sensuous beauty
whieli had held him, captive five yeara
ago had lot all charm for him now. He
wanted "the mind, the music breathing
from the face"—and in Mme. Quijada's
Mete), with her iron -gray hair, limed fore-
head, and melancholy eyes, he saw a spirit-
ual beauty which (satiated all his sympee
thy. That idea of a great sorrow suffered
ba the morning of life, and leaving its
indelible mark upon the sufferer, impressed
laim strongly.
He was floating about among his great
ladies in one of the most brilliant salons of
Republican Paris on the following evening;
but he did not ask any of these luminaries
for her box at the opera, preferring to go to
the box-office and pay for one. It was
quite true that boxes had been offered to
him ; but the occasions hed been somewhat
rare, and he had only put forward that idea
in order to lessen MIle.Mareet's sense of ob-
ligation. He wanted to give her pleasure, if
he could, and he wanted to see more of the
curious trio.
He sent the box ticket to Mme. Qaijada,
expressiug the hope that she and her
daughter and niece would attend the next
representation of Goureocrs "Faust," which
was fixed for the following night. The
lady had told him that she seldom went
out be the evening, and he therefore
counted on finding her disengaged. He
added that he should have the honor
of visiting their box in the course
of the performance. He had se-
cured a stalest: that he should not appear to
have offered the box to the beautiful Dolores
with the idea. of exhibiting himself ha her
company for the whole evening; but the
nrecaution was wasted so far as Dolores was
concerned, for Mme Qui ada's daughter was
not in the box when he looked up from his
place in the stalls to see how it was oc-
cupied.
Mme. Quijada was in the place of honor,
looking dignified and distinguished in her
Spanish mantilla, fastened with diamond
stars, and beside her, simply dressed ha a
black gown, and a Marie Antoinette fichu,
sat Louise Marcet, attentive and absorbed,
evidently drinking in every note of the
verture.
He had scarcely time to wonder at Mlle.
Quijada's absence when some one in the
next row said, "How do you do, Floreatan?"
and was startled at finding hia River Lawn
neighbors seated exactly in front of him.
Mother and daughter were sitting side by
• side,the girl m her simple white gown with
a bunch of Parma violets on her breast, the
mother in dark-grs.y velvet and sapphires,
placidly beautiful, with Titianesque eyes
and hair, assuredly one of the lo vilest
women 111 that assembly, albeit her
charms were in their summer maturity
and not in their Vernal freshness. It
is not granted to many women to be per• -
fectly beautiful at eight -and -thirty, but it•
had been granted to Ambrose Arden's wife,
and her husband's heart thrilled with
pride as he noted Floreetan's admiring
look, a look which passed overethe daughter
to linger on the beauty of the mother.
Florestam's glance went back to the
daughter presently, and -he saw that she
too was lovely, with a loveliness which
echoed every note in the mother's beauty,
only the lines were less developed and less
definite, the coloring was lese brilliant. He
looked from the girl to the young mem be-
side her, andrecoenized Cyril Arden, whom
he had not seen for some years.
There had never been anything approach-
ing intimacy between Plorestan and the
family at River Lawn ; but there had been
acquaintance and exchange of civilities
from the commencement of the Hatrelle
residence, when the owner of Fountainhead
was an undergraduate, subject to the
dominion of guardians. He had thus in a
manner eeen Daisy Hattrell grow from
infancy to girlhood, and he noted the
opening flower with admiring eyes. She
seemed to him the perfection of English
girlhood. Her complexion of lilies and
roses, her hazel eyes and. auburn hair,
realized his ideal of English beauty; albeit,
as 10 her mother's case, the brilliancy of
coloring recalled the school of Titian rather
than the school of Reynolds.
He murmured a few words of emegratula-
tion to Ambrose Arden, whom he had al-
weys regarded as a scholarly and inoffensive
person, amore nonentity outside his library.
He wondered much that such a. man could
have won the heart of such a women as
Clara Hatrell.
He aaked if they had just come from
Learm. ford, and was told of their Italian win.
t
"We are going back to River Lawn al -
mese immediately," said Clara. "I am
longing to be among my household gods."
"Even Venice could not make mother
false to Rivet Lawn," said Daisy.
"And are not you glad to go home, Miss
Hatrell ?" asked Floreoban.
"Home is always sweet. Yea, I shall be
glad to see all the dear old things again—
garden river, books, horse; and doge and
boats-fbub Venice was :simply intoxicating.
Von know it, t suppose?"
"By heart There are very few spots in
Xtaly that I don't know. There goes the
curtain."
The inertia rose, �n d Florestan was
silent, deferring hies visit to Mine.
quijada.'s box till the end of the
aot, He had looked tip ouce while
he wee talking to his friends, and had Been
that lady's keen black eyee watching hifls
interitly, while her niece, wrapped in the
mtialoomented unconscious§ tirf all else, and
osertainly unconcerned about him. Re
left his placeafter the curtain fell and went
straight to the box, whete the open door
suggested that he WAS etooted.
• X am merry nov Id see Mademoiselle
Dolores,' bo ohia when he had exchanged
greetitige With both ladies,.
• "She ,Oenris you her beet thankfor
yeer courteotte incitation," replied Mme.
Quijada, "but ahe very aeldom goes (Mt
14 OA eMileAs Our appearance MAW
good Madame Daturque wee au exception.
al elteat." •
ie a pity that so much beeuty should
be hdea from the tvorld,P ee,id Florestau.
Mute, Quijada bowed her aoknowledg.
relent of Ude epeeeh, and ref/tiniest to the
centemplatien of the audience. She seem.
ed to know everybedy of eonsegeenee
that aesembla— by eight; but elle recogniz-
ed no ono as an acquaintance.
• " You were talking to some friends in
the stalls just now," she said to Florestam;
with her eyes fixed upenthe Arden party,"
"a very handsome woman with a hand-
some daughter. They are your oompat.
riots, no doubt '?"
"Yes, they are English. The lady is my
next-door neighbor on the banks of the
Thames. She haa lately married for the
second time."
Louise alarcet followed the direction of
her annt's eyes, and looked down at the
stalls, where the two beautiful heads, with
rich auburn hair, were conspicuoue in a
central position,. The orohestra wee silent
now, and Louise's thoughts were at liberty,
"Is she a great lady in England, a lady
of tible ?" asked Mine. Quijada, curiously.
" No ' • she is the wife of a commoner.
She andher husband are well off and of
good family, but they are not great people."
"What is the lady's name ?"
"Arden. Her daughter is Miss Hatrell."
" Hatrell I"
Louise Mareet repeated the name almost
in a whisper. There was something in her
tone that startled Florests.n, and he was
still more surp.rised on looking at her to
find her ashy pale. Her aunt save the
change in her face and rose quickly and.
supported her to the back of the box, where
she moistened her temples with eau -de -
Cologne.
"The poor child will be better soon,
she said to Florestan; "he has been sub-
ject to these swooning fits ever since her
illness. Come now, Louise; you are better
now, are you not ?"
"Yes, I am quite well now, It
was nothing."
" Oh, it was very nearly a fainting fit.
"We have just escaned all the fuss and
anxiety of a swoon. What was it made
you feel ill— the light and heat, or the
excitement of the music?"
"11 was the light, perhaps. It gave
me a kind of vertigo. And I was so in-
terested in looking at Mrs, Hatrell," she
said, pronouncing the name with an ac-
cent which somewhat disguised it. " Tell
me about her," else went on, turning to
Florestan. "She is your friend, you say?"
"Yes, she is my friend."
"And she has married for the second time,
lately?"
"Quite lately—as late as last September."
"And she is happy ?"
"I suppose so. She has gone through a
great deal of trouble, but 1 conclude that
now she has a new husband she has
forgotten that old sorrow. Her' first
husband's death was a tragical one. He
was murdered in London, seven or eight
years ago, by an unknown hand."
"And has his murderer never been
found? asked Mine. Quijada, with reviving
interest.
"Never, I fear he never will be."
Louise resumed her seat, and was, gazing
at the faces in the stalle, absored in con-
templation.
"How old is Miss Hatrell?" she asked
presently.
"About eighteen."
"Is she amiable ?"
"Charming. I have never meb a sweeter
girl. I have known her from her child-
hood, but we have not seen very Much of
each other. I have been a wanderer on
the face of the earth, as I think I told you
the other night,"
"Yes," answered Louise, absently, with
her eyes fixed. on Daisy's smiling face.
"How happy she looks, and how good!
Was she fond of her father ?"
"Very fond. She was only a child when
she lost him, but she wen devoted to him
and he to her."
"You remember him? You knew him
well 2"
"Fairly well, and liked him Much. He
was as frank and as open as the day -7-9.
mau without guile."
"1 do not like that other man " said
Louise,still looking down at the stalls.
" Wlich man 2"
"The second husband."
"Why not? How aan you like or dislike
at a glance 2" •
"I olvvays do. I liked and trusted you
at the first glance. I distrust him."
CHAPTER XII.
FLOASSTAN'S MISSION.
Florestan lunched with Mr. and Mrs.
Arden on the day after their meeting at
the opera. It was the lady who gave him
the invitation. He had always been a
favorite ofkore,since the time when be sold
the meadow, and earlier, when he had just
left Eton for the superior independeuce of
the University; and in this busy Paris,
crowded with strange faces, she had been
pleased to meet with a familiar face—a face
associated with the cloudless years of her
first marriage. Everything was dear to
her that broughb backethe memory of that
time.
Was she happy with her second husband?
No, she was not ; unless gratitude and a
placid submission to the decree of Fate
mean happiness.
She had drifted into this second marriage
upon the strong tide of Ambrose Arden's
passionate love—a love which had gathered
force with each long year of waiting, and
which had become a po wer that no ordinary
woman could resist. Such a passion, SO
exceptional in its patient endurance, he
intense concentration, will compel love or
at leaat the surrender Of liberty, and,the
submission to woman's deathly, which is,
for the most part, to belong to some one
strongsr than herself.
She bad. submitted to this mastery, and
she was grateful for that devoted affection
which knew no wavering, which had lost
none of its romantics intensity with the
waning of the honey -Moon. No woman
could be heedless of sea a love as this,
front such a man as Ambreee Arden and
his wife was deeply touched. by his idolatry,
and gave Mm beck all that a • woman can
give WhO80 beset is eold as marble, Tettd•
onus, deference, companionship she
dould give mid she gave there ; but the
hive she lied lavished on Robert. Hatrell
wee a fire that had burned out. It was
not in Asnbrose Arden's power to rekindle
the flame.
Never einoe the first year of her widow-
hood had her thoughts reearred so hides -
mealy to the pent as they had done since
her deoond marriage4 Itt her life with her
daughter, they two as Bole Companions,
something of her girligh gayety had returned
to her. She had bootee altnoSta girl again
in adaptiag hereelf to a girl 0414)649a. In
her anxiety to keep the burden of aearow oil
Dviey'a yoethful Shoulders eh° had shaken
oE the ehadove of her owe as memories,
and- had given lieeeelf girlhood'
pleasurea wad trivolena interests. But
eerVe her nterriage—sinoe her chief compsan.
iou had been Atodtrose Arden mallet Daley,
a deep (aloud of nieleamlioly had. come clown
Avon her mind. The image of her firet
husband had become a ghost that walked
beside her path and ateoci beside her bed.
Tho aleraorY" of her happiest) years had be.
wine a haunting niemory that oame be-
tween lier and every interest that her pre -
emit life coald offer.
Thus it was that she had taSell eager to
;me more of Floreaten, and had asked /aim
to luncheon ae their hotel.
This time they were at the Brietal, anti
it was in. a Won on the aecond floor, look-
ing oat upou the Place Vendome, that they
reeeived Gilbert Florestan.
Daisy beamed upon him in a white straw
hat trimmed with spring flowers,and a neat
little gray checked gown, made by one of
those epicene tailors who give their minds
to the embellishment of the female figure.
She bad a bunch of lilies of the valley pin-
ned uponher breast—aposy which Cyril had
just bought for her in the Rue Castighone.
They bad been running about Paris all the
morning, Cyril protesting that the great
city was a vulgar, glaring, dusty hole, yet
very delighted to attend his sweetheart in
her explorations, and to show her every-
thing that was worth looking at.
"I hope I have satiated her with church -
e8," he said. "We have driven all over
Paris andhave gone up and down so many
stepAhat I feel as if Itad been working
on the treadmill. We wound up with a
scamper in Pere is Chaise."
"It was a scamper," exclaimed Daisy.
"He would hardly let me look at any of
the monuments. They are all mixed up
in my mind, a chaos of bronze and marble,
classical temples and Egyptian obelisks—.
13alzace Rachel, the Russian Princess who
was burned to death at a ball, Desolee,
Thiers,Abelard and Heloise. I could spend
longclay roaming e.boat in that place of
names and memories ; and Cyril took ire
through the alleys almost at a run."
"Why should a girl want to prowl about
a. cemetery, unless she is a ghoul, and is
mapping out the place in order to go back
there in the night and dig ?" Cyril pro-
teeted, with a dignsted air. "I 'would
rather have to stand and wait while you
looked at all the shoo in the Rue de la
Paix."
The luncheon was a very lively meal,
for both Cyril and Florestan were full of
talk and vivacity, and Daisy talked as
much as they let her, leaving Arden and
his wife free to look on and. listen.
After lunch Florestan suggested a pil-
grimage at St. Denis, and offered to act as
cicerone, an offer which Daisy accepted
eagerly, so a roomy open carriage was
ordered, and Mrs. Arden, her claughter,and
the two young men set out for the resting.
place of royalties, leaving Ambrose free to
go back to the book -shops.
"It isn't a bad day for a drive," said
Cyril as the landau howled along the
broad, level road outside the city, "but I
am sorry that we are pandering to Miss
Hatrell's ghoulish tastes by hunting after
graves."
There was more discussion that evening
as to how long the River Lawn party
should remain in Paris. They had Arrived
from Italy two days before, and while they
were in Venice Mrs. Arden had been
auxi-
ous to return to England, and had confess-
ed herself homesick. In Paris she seemed
disposed for delay.
"1 can't quite understand you, Clara,"
said her husband. "Alt your yearning for
home seems to have left you."
"1 am as anxious as ever to go home,
but there is something I want to do in
Paris."
"What is that?"
"Oh, it is a very small matter. I would
rather not talk about it."
Ambrose looked at her wonderingly.
This was the first time since their marriage
that she had refused to tell him anything.
He did not press the point, however. The
matter in question might be some feminine
frivolity, some trail:motion with dress-
makers or milliners, which it was no part
of a husband's business to know.
Later an in the evening his wife asked a
question :
"Does Mr. Florestan know Paris par-
ticularly well 2"
Cyril answered her,
"He tells me that he knows Pais by
heart, and all her works and ways. He
means to winter here, and to pummer alt
Fountainhead. Yon will have him for a
neighbor, Daisy. I hope you are not going
to make me j,ealoue by taking too much
notice of him. "
He spoke with the easy gayety of a man
who knows himself beloved, and who is so
secure in ehe possession of his sweetheart's
affeceion that he can afford to make a jest
of the possibilities which might alarm other
men. Daisy first blexthed and then laughed
at the suggestion.
"Poor Mr. Florestan!" she sighed; "no
father or mother, no sister or brother! No.
body to be happyor unhappy about ! What
an empty life hie must be."
"Oh, the fellow is lucky enough. He has
a nice old place and a goad income. He is
young and clever—and—well—yes—I
suppose he is handsome."
Daisy offered no opinion.
"Decidedly handsome," said Ambrose
Ardeu, looking up from the chess -board alt
which he and his wife were seated.
Olara had never touched a card aince the
nightly rubber came to en and with hec
husband's tragical death; but she played
obese nearly every evening with Mr. Arden,
who was a fine player, and intensely enjoy-
ed the game. His wife played juat well
enough J make the contest interesting,
and then there was for him an unfailing
delight in having her for his antagonist;
the delight of watohing her thoughtful
face, with its varying expression as she
deliberated upon her play ; the delight of
touching her hand now and then as it
moved among the plums ; the delight of
hearing her low, Sweet voice. This life
could give him no greater joy than her
corepanionehip. It had been the end and
aim ef his existence for long and patient
years.
Mrs. Arden sent Florentan a telegram
ext morning, asking hien to call upon her
as early as he could before luncheon. • lier
hueband was going to attend the ;sale of it
fernoue library, mid she Would be free to
carry out an idea which she had entertain-
ed since her meeting with Monet= at the
"eMra.
Mr, Arden had not been goo° more than
is quarter of an hour before riorestan was
announced. Cyril and Daisy were eight.
aeeing, and Mrs, Arden was alone in the
"lone.
Shwas eating near one of the Windowa,
with her travellingaeak en the table before
blite thanked Floresten for hie prompt
atteution to her request, and motioned
him to a beat on the other side of the
writing -table.
Wickert Cry for Pitcher it vastormf
r§
•,e
" I eni geing to ttaleyee to do me A great
favor, Mr, Floreetan," she aaid, very sere
jowly, " although our frieudehip has been
eto interrapted and ao casual OA X have
hardly any Oahu upon you."
All Unit was ardent and frank and gen.
erous in the man who airected• oynioisra
wee awakened by this deprecating appeal,
and, perhaps atilt mors by the pathetic
expression of the soft hazel eyes and the
Leant tromulouenese of the lower lip.
"Von have the strangest claim," he
answered, eagerly. "Thera is, nothing 1
would not do to show revolt worthy to be
considered yeme friend. If we have not
seen very much of eaohnther we have at
least been acquainted for a long time. I
remember your daughter when she was
almost it baby. X remember—
He cheeked himself, as he was approach-
ing te theme that might pein her,
"Yon remember my husband," she said,
interpreting his embarrassment. "It is of
him I want to talk to you. I think you are
good and true, Mr. Florestan, and I am go-
ing to trust you with the seorets of the dead.
I am going to ehow you some old letters—
letters veretteu to my dear dead husband—
which I would not show to anybody in this
world if I did not hope that some good,
some satisfaction to me and to my daughter,
might come out of the light these letters
can give."
"My dear Mrs, Arden, you do not surely
hope that after all these years the murderer
will be found through any clew that the
past oan afford?"
"I don't know what I hope—out I want
to find a woman who loved my husband
very tenderly and truly before ever I saw
his face. She was a friendless airl in this
city, a girl who had to work for her living,
but her letters are the outcome of a refined
nature and I feel a melancholy interest in
her.
nature, heart yearns toward the woman
who loved my husband, and who might have
been his wife,but for the difference of caste."
"Did your husband tell you about thli
youthful love affair ?"
"He alluded to it laughingly once or
twice during our married life; but I knew
nothing more than that he had once been in
love with a French grisetteamitil the week
before my second marriage. I had it curious
fancy before that great change in my life
to go back upon the post." There was a re-
gretfulness in her tone at this point which
W85 a' revelation to Florestan. "So I
occupied myself for a whole nighb, when
every one, -else in the house had gone to
bed, in looking over my husband's papers.
I had been through them more than came
before, and had. classified and arranged
them as well as I could; but I suppose I
was not very business like in my way of
doing this, for among some commonplace
letters from old. college friends I found. a
little package of letters in a woman's hand
whioh I had everlooked before."
She opened her desk as she spoke, and
toek out a small package of letters tied
with red tape. There had been no senti-
mental indulgence in the way of satin
ribbon for the milliner's poor little letters.
The tape was faded and old, and it was the
same piece which Robert Hatrell's own
hand had tied around them.
"Please read one or two of those letters,
and tell me if they speak to your heart as
they spoke to mine," she said as she put the
package into Florestan's hand.
He untied the tape counted the letters,
seven in all, and then began to read the
letter of the earliest date.
"Rua Ceteerve•Sounes, Faubourg St.
Antoine, "9th May.
"It was like a day spent in heaven while
we were together yesterday. I felt as if it
was years and years since I had seen green
fields and blue water. Oh! the beautiful
river, -and the island where we dined. I did
not think there was anything ao lovely
within an hour's journey from Paris. Ali;
how good it was of you to give a poor, hard-
working girl so much pleasure! I have been
in Paris more tban a year, and no one ever
showed me a glimpse of the country until
yesterday. My brother was too busy with
his inventions, and there was no one else.
I wouder at your goodness, that you should
take so much trouble for a poor .girl, and
that you should not be ashamed to be seen
with any one so shabby and insignificant."
Three other letters followed, telling the
same story of a Sunday in the environs of
Paris, of the woods and the river, and the
rapture of being with him. Gradually the
pen had grown bolder, and it %MS of love
the girl wrote to her lover—an*humble, con-
fiding, romantic, girlish love, which took no
thought for the morrow, asked no questions,
suffered no agonies of doubt. She wrote as
if her happiness were to know no change—
an if those Sunday excursione to pleasant
places were to go on forever. She told him
how she had gone to mass before she met
him at the railway station' or the steam-
boat pier, and how she hadprayed for him
at the altar of the Blessed Virgin.
There was more in the Beene strain, but
later the key changed to saddest
minor.
"I know you Oah not marry me; indeed,
I never thought or hoped to be your wife.
I only wanted our love to go on as long as
it could. I wanted it to go on forever,
asking no snore than to see you now and
then, once a week, once in a month even
-,-ah, even once a year I could live all
through a long dull year in the hope of
seeing you for one blessed hour on New.
year's-day. Is that too much to ask? You
men nee guess how little would content
me—anything except to lose you forever.
The day that you say ao rne,`Good-bye,
Toinette; we shall never meet again,' will
be the day of my death. You are the better
part of mylife. I can not live vrithOut you.
I think Of you in every hour of the day.
I think of you with every stitch my needle
makes through the -long hours in which I
sit at work, The sprig of willow you'
picked ,v1 n we were in the boat last
Sunday is like a living thing to me—as
precious as 11 18 had a, soul, mod could
sympathize with me in my love and mly
sorrow."
Florestan read on tilI the lent word in
the la:3b letter.
The later letters had a more berions tone
and breathe the fear that her romance must
come to an end.
"It has beer: like e. dream to know you
and be foved by you," she wrote; " but is
the dream to end in darkness and the long,
dull life that would be left to me if you
were to go away and forget me I suppose
it innat be so. I have been too happy to
remember that such happiness oould not
last. You will go back to your couttry
end fall in love with a young English lady,
aad forget that you over spent happy days
on the Seine, laughing and talking with
your peer Toinette. You will forget the
arbor Oh the Wand where we dined in the
twilight, while the music and singing went
pasti as in the boats, while eve sat hidden
behind vine leavers, and heard everything
without beats seen. Oh, how sweet it was!
I shall never sme any more stars like those
that, shone upon us as we came from Marly
one night, eitting aide by side on a bench on
the roof of the train. I Wuxil never see the
tiver 18 Perla witheut thinking that it is
the game river on which our boat has
eseasaaaekeel seeeteeeeeseeee
for infants and Children.
oalastorleis eortelladantedtochadreathat
t recommend It azi superioreo anYPreeeriPtkel
known to me." R. A. Anowen, at Dr,
11180. Oxford St., BroOkini, It Y.
"The WS of <Castoria I is so universal and
Its merits so well known that it seamen work
of supererogation to endorse it. Few are the
intelligent fanailies who do not keep Ca.storia
within easyreaen."
Gatuna Mewrrs, 0.0.,
New York City.
Late Pastor Bloomingdale Reformed Church.
Castorla. °area Celle, C011011341^
Sour etomenh, Diarrhcea, ¬ation,
XflIs Worms, gives sleep, and promotes
gestion,
without injurious medication.
"For several years I live recommend
your • (seteria,' ands1841always continue tt
do so es,it. bee invariably produced. benee
re.sults,'
BDIVIN F. Palma. M. D.•
"The Winthrop," leeth Street end 711&levee
New York (Ate;
Tait Ca/mina CODYBANY, 77 Mtansay Selmer, Z,trrw YOBIL
ISSIMEMENNIMMIRMS284"8121111181MIUM
CK
NEURALGIA,PLEURIStSCIATICA CURED EVERY TIME
AND RHEUMATISM
WTHIN1 "D.8‘ MENTHOL rLASTER tll$10.
"7:Alo
Have a Very Bad Cough,
TT Ave Suffering from Lung Troubles.
g.L.,) Have Lest Flesh through Illness,
• Are Threatened- with Consumption,
eRemember that the
Pi.
. 14eZi'va„ IS W id AT Y 0 U .1 EQU I RE .
drifted, oh_ 1 so lazily, while we have talked
and forgotten everything except our own
faces and our own voices. All that was
beautiful in the river and the landscape
seemed not outside us, but a part of our,
selves and of our love."
(To 1118 COSITINVVED.)
,
Frightened To Death.
There are Revered well authenticated
oases where fright was the cause of death.
An English surgeon tells .of a drummer in
India across whose legs a harmless lizard
crawled while he was half -asleep. He was
sure that a cobra had bitten him, and is
was too much for his nerves, and he died.
Frederick I. of Prussia was killed by fear.
His wife was insane, and one day she as.
caped from her keeper, and, dabbling her
clothes with blood, rushed upon her hus-
band while he was dozing in his chair.
King Frederick ienagined her to be he
White Lady, whose ghost was believed to
invariably appear whenever the death of a
member of the Royal family was to occur,
and he was thrown into a, ,fever, and died
in six weeks.
But perhaps the most remarkable death
from fear was that of the Dutch painter
!Pentmanawho lived in the • 17th century.
One day 'he went into a room full of anatom-
ical subject e to sketch some ekull a and bones
for a picture he intended to paint. The
weattier was very sultry, and while sketch-
ing he fell asleep. He was aroused by the
bones dancing around him and the skeletons
suspended from the ceiling clashing togeth•
er. In a fit of horror he threw himself
out of the window. Though he sustained
no serious injury, and was informed that a
slight earthquake had caused a commotion
among the ghostly surroundings, he died
of nervous tremor.
One Use For Wealth.
Lord. Aberdeen is reported as telling the
following story of hinaelf: He lefe
Loedon at midnight in a sleeping -car for the
north. In the morning when be was awaken-
ed he saw a 'stranger opposite him.
"Excuse me," said the stratiger;"may I
ask if yon are rich?
Somewhat surprised, his lordship replied
that he was tolerably well -to -de.
k 'May 1 ask," continued the stranger,
"how rich you are?"
"Well, if it will do you any good to
know," was the reply, "1 suppose I have
several hendred thousand pounda "
"Well," went oh the Estranger, "if I
were as rich as you, and altered as loudly
am you, 1 should take a whole oar so as not
to interrupt the sleep of others."
The Reason
Potter—"Ilello, Jones, don't you lanai
that overeoate Are Worn long this seaeon ?"
jones—" Yea,"
Potter --"Thee why do you wear iseliort
one?"
• ieriee.--"llecauee atn short."
VARIETIES.
The English lord chancellor gets $50,000
a year; the 'United States chief justice gets
$10,500.
A22,5 -ounce gold nugget in the shape of
a horseshoe has been discovered at Har-
graves, Australia.
At the Bombay Zoological Gardens the
skin of a sea serpent sixty-four feet in
length is on exhibition.
The art of bell founding is one of great
antiquity. Bells were used in England
long before the Norman conquest.
In Australia horses and cattle are now
being branded by electricity from storage
batteries. The temperature is uniform and
the brand safe and artistic.
You would be the greatest man of your
age, Grattan, if you would buy a fewyards
of red tapeatnd tie up your bills and papers.
—Curran.
A Chinese paper says that Mariano Santa
Ane, a native of Alba.y, who is 117 years
of age, has just completed the long term
of fifty-three years' imprisonment.
The cross mark instead o fa signature
did not originate in ignorance. It was
always appended tosignatures in mediaeval
times as an attestaticn of good faith. .
A collection of Australian stamps has
just been bought by a London dealer for
$50,000, the largest price ever paid for a
stamp collectioe. The collection was begun
in 1872, and includes stamped sovolopos,
postal cards and wrapped.
Many hundreds of manuscripts have
been recovered at Pompelii. They Were
charred rolls, but by the exercise of
patience and ingenutty some have been
unrolled and read. Nothing ef importance
has beet discovered in their contents.
• Some curious objects heive been unearthed
from Etruscan tombs, the use of witteh for
a long time wen gonjectural. It was at
length ascertained that they must have
been the heads of walking canes probably
belonging to the dudes of 2,500 years ago.
Many razors have been found in the'
ruins of Pompeii. They are of different
shapes, 1 some resembling knivee, others
beteg not unlike the razors of the present
day. The barber shops of antiquity were
also provided with bottles of periOnie and
boxes of pontatum.
A peouliarity of the blind ib that there is
dela °In one of them who smokes.- Soldiers
and sailors accustomed to smoking and
who have lost their eight in acitieu, eon.
tinue to smoke for a eriort while, but anon
give up the habit, They say it givee them no
pleiteuro when they ersti not eee the smoke,
The United State bah not a.partioularly
large military establish tnent-;-,nt fact, it is
regarded as meagre for such tin extensive
territory, neither has it many posts from
'Which the the 18ealutod at morning and
evening, SW it f:Obtri t traveres meet $20a
000 annually foe ammunitzon for the morn.
ing andeveintig pen, wideh figns tat emu the
expenee 0,b$54 70 fee eaoh of the ;305 Jaye
in the year. •