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The Exeter Times, 1895-1-10, Page 2reeConsueoption,Coughs,Croup,Poro /Arcot. sold tx all Druggist$ on a Guarantee, r a Leme 61de, back or Cleest See1101;de Povouo aster will give peat salves:dem-25 Centre, SiltIkOWS VITALlinem. mr. T. S. leavekins, Ohattaimoga. Tonn.. sayst elellohet Vitalizer 'SAVED biz ,rdres.X reeettive it ever weebeStretinoduloradeletettaterlsestene I ed, T ' For Dyspepsia, LiVen or 11±duor troubloit egeelet Pelee Lia CATATIV1 HE E Ert, naveYouCatearb," TrytbieRemedye It will esitively relieve and Cure you. Price 60 ots. his Injector or ite eueeccatul treatment is ruished.free.Beinenteer,Sbneneetteniedics Ave si-N1 nr",- 'cgarantee elem eatisfaction. LEGAL. H-DIOKSON,Barrister,Soli- 4 eitor ot Supreme Court, NoteMe Uouveye neer. Cemmithiouer, °nay to Doan. e Olnoei n ansoigsennom Exeter, R a. COLLINS, Barrister Solicitor, Conveyancer, Etc. BEETEB, • ONT. OFFIOE : Over O'Neil?s Bank. r'iLLIOT & ELLIOT, I ' Barristers, Solicitors, Notaries Public, Conveyancers 85o, &c. IS-Mopey to Loan at Lowest Rates of Interest. OFFICE, . MAIN • STREET, EXETER. B. V. ELLIOT. irrtBDERIOR ELLIOT. 11111:011131391211611 MEDICAL T W. BROWNING M. D. , C e./ P. 8, Graduate Victoria Univert ty; Moe and residence, Derainion Labe tory . Exe ter• T1R. EYNDMAN, coroner for 11.3,e County of Huron. Oftlee, opp Alta Carling Bras. s tore, Exe ter. DES. ROLLINS & AlVIOS. -Yeparate Offices. Residenoe sa.rne as former. ty. Andrew st. Offices; Spackman's building. Main at; Dr Rollins' same as formerly, norbh door; Dr. Amos" same building, south doer, J. A. ROLLINS, M. D., T. AMOS, M. D Exeter, Ont AUCTIONEERS. T HARDY, LICENSED tieneer for the County of Huron. Charges moderate. Exeter P. 0. 1141 BOSSEINBERRY, General Li - 14. censed Auctioneer Sales conducted in allparts. Satishietiongnitranteed. Charges moderate. Henson P Q, Out. lENEY EILSER Licensed .uc- LL tor the Counties of Huron and Middlesex ibtles aon ducted at Mod- erate rates. Offlee, at Post-oilloe Grad. ten Ont. wassmarmatamosozsemeasid MONEY TO LOAN. Th/FONE TO LOAN AT 6 AND ItL percent, sted000 Private Funds. Bast Loaning c omp ant e s represeuted. L. H. DICIeSON, Barrister. Exeter. STJRVEYING, A WOMAN'S STORY. •CHAPTER XIIL—Clormuunn. Re Was decidedly handsorrie,and he had a thrtain style -which le attractive amongst a certain lass thougb it ie the very oppot site of good style. Be was in evening these, but there was a careleseness about hie coseume, and an odor of tobacco, which hinted that his evening had not been spent in very (meeting sooiety. " Well," he said at !net, lookiug first at Doloree and then at her mother, " if you will not go in with me, and pull off a for- tune, perhaps you will help me by a loan. I have pledged, myself to take a hundred hares at five hundred franca per share, and have paid a deposit of twenty per cent., whioh will be forfeited if I don't take them up, to say nothing of the discredit. Will you tend me twenty thousand frames for three months ?" "My dear Leon, you talk a$ if we were Rothschilds, my poor girl and I." "1 talk with a perfect knowledge of who and what you are'," replied Duverdier, in a, cold, hard voice, and with a cruel emphasis upon every word. "1 talk with the knowledge that Dolores bag but to lift up her finger in order to get any money she vvants out of that old money -bag, Perez, whom you and she only tolerate bemuse he is a money -bag. She has only to say to him, 'I have a caprice whick will cost me twenty or thirty thousand francs'—a gown, a horse, an orchid, what you will—for the check to be written end the cash placed at her disposal, to fling out of the window 11 she likes." "Whet if he were to guess that the caprice was another name for a lover's necessity ?" asked Mme. Quijada. "He will not guess. He is blind and helpless whore Dolores is concerned." "Well, he is not goiug to be foolee this time. Iforbid my daughter to lend you ano th- er louts. Youhave bled us enough already - enough for a life -time. You belong to au insatieble race -the race of gamblers. Race. course,Monte Carlo or Bourse, itiso.11the same thing. Call the vice by what name you like, it means ruin !" "And yet if it had not been for one venture of mine you would never have been able to make a new start in life at Madrid as a woman of good family," said Duverdier, white with anger. "You owe me everything, and yet refuse to help me in my need 1" "You tad better forget that old debt, for fear I should remember it too often," said the elder woman. There was something in her tone, some- thing in her look, that silenced him for a time and when he spoke next all the insolence was gone from his epeech. "For pity's sake, help me with a few hundred lotus!" be said. "If you refuse I am a lost man; and I know you have something in an old stocking—more thousands than I am asking hundreds. You are too clever a woman not to provide for the hazards of the future." "11 I have pat away something for my old age you can't suppose I shell destroy that provision in order to save you from a peril which would be renewed in less than six montes. If things are desperate in Paris you had better get out of Paris while you can, and try your fortunes somewhere else. I never thought this a good place of resi- dence for you." "You have made up your mind ?" he asked, with sudden fierceness. "Irrevocably." "So be it. Good -night, Doloree." He took- her in his arms before she was aware, kissed her passionately and walked to the door." , "What are you going to do ?" "You willknow all aboutthat to-mceewee he answered, end banged the_doese behind I him to give emphes4.the'0ris words. Dolores would leoserret-lerfout of the room in pur- os—r----- si et of him, but her mother stopped her on the threshold. "He means to kill himself!" cried the girl, wildly. "Not he, child! Of a thousand men who make that kind of threat, only one ever realizes it. He belongs to the nine hundred and ninety-nine." CHAPTER XIV. DAISY'S DIARY AT LAMEORD. Home is sweet even atter Italy, even after the bright and busy street ot Paris, with their flower -shops end milliners and bonbons and prettiness of all kinds and the Bois and the carriages, and die smart people, and the music, tend the life and movement everywhere, and above all the opera andthe theatres. Faris was very nice. I had no ides. I could enjoy any city so much after Venice. I thought that en chanting labyrinth of marble lying upon the breast of the waves, would take the color out of every other city in the world. But Paris was nice, all the same, and I was sorry to leave it. Home is sweet always. I have been reading my German Plato this morning under the willows that shade my father's grave,in the old spot thatb as been my sanctuary ever shale I began to read serious books,and to try tounderstand the thoughts of great writers. Plato is so comforting after Sohopenhauer a.nd Harmann. Plato is full of hope ; they are the preachers of despair. l Mother seems happy to be at home 1 again, in the old rooms, among the books and pictures, and in the gardens she loves so dearly. She has imported a small for- tune in the shape of specithen conifers and azaleas and peonies and roses from a fam- ous nurseymen near Paris; and she is happily employed in superintending the Planting of her treasures. It is rather late for planting, our head-gardner says in his broad Scotch ; and he even went so far as to give us a saying quoted by the great Sir Walter himself : Plaunt a tree before Candlemae, and ye may command it to grow ; plaunt one after Candlemas, and ye may joost entreat it to grow." But, in spite of Sir Walteret proverb, we must trust in Providence and in our good old Macpherson's skill, Uncle Ambrose retains the cottage in which be has lived so long, and in which Gyring childhood was spent. There is no room in our house for his b000ks which Ell every available Wall in the coetage, so he keeps them on theirold shelves, and uses his old study when he is working on any eubjeot whirs+ requires much reference to autherities. Re is writing it new book, I believe, though he has not oonfeesed as much to either mother or Me. He is very reticent about hie literary Work, and a -seined eternrised and almoet, geared by the success of gm lase ;WA, and by thei trem- endous amoent of eritioisin and argumen- tation that; was expended upon it. "I could not live without literary work," Ihe' told me once ; "hub I do not derive much pleasure front the publioation of a book. Critics are an aggravating race, They. FAO meanings that I never meant; they overlook the better 'tart of my work." Be is the most oelf-ciontairted man. this World ever saw, I believe, He takes no delight in the things that, please other peo- ple ; but he is the best and kindest friend FRED W. FARNO - iliu at Land Surveyor, aid NC Office, Upstairs, Samwell's Block, Exeter.Ont 'VETERINARY. Tennent& Tennent EXETER. ON. Ora dratesofthe Ontario Veterinary 031. .egf. OFFICE axle Actor South ofTown Bali, THE WATERLOO MUTUAL FIRE INS-GRANO E 0 0 . Established in 1863. 4'EAD OFFICE WATERLOO, ONT. This Company has been over Twenty-eigh years 10 successftil oper ttion in Western Ontario, and continues to insure against loss or damage by Fire. Buildings, Merchandise Manufactories and all other descriptions of insurable properte. Intending insurers have the ootion of insuring on the Premium Note or Oath System, - During tbe past ten years this company bee issued 57,096 Policiet, covering property to the amount of e40,872O38; and paid in losses alone t709,752.00. Assets. 8te6s100.00, consisting of Cash in Bank Govern men t Depositand the ,unasses- eed PrenduanNotes on hand and in force &lie Ware:me, M.D.. President; 0 M. Tevema Secretary • J. B. Hoaxes, Inspector. 0II4_S SNELL, Agent for Exeter and vioini ter TIUJ EXETER TI1VIES I have, and he adores mother; go what can I want more in hira to make up perfeetion 2 •Cyril is his opposite in moat things—all energy, teatime, light-heartedness, e ;tome. times wielt he were a little less light. hearted. One may weary of perpetual sunshine. If I am ever in a sad and medi- tative mood I have a feeling that, however kind Cyril is, he can't understated me, He seems miles and miles away from me—as far as England from America, He has been away at Oxford since we came home visiting some of his college friends. 01 course I miss him sadly, but there is a kind of relief in being alone after continual companionship. Had Cyril been here I should not have been able to spend a morning by my father's grave. He would have wanted me to go for a ride or a walk, or to row down to Henley. I fall back in- to my old ways and my sad, quiet life naturally while he is away, and if it were not that we write to each other every day I might abnost forget that we are engaged. Uncle .Ambrose is not fond of River Lawn. Be does not say as much, but I know him too well not to find oub his real feelings. Children have a way of watch- ing faces; and I used to watch his fame years ago to see when he was pleased or displeased with me, so that I came to know every line in his countenance, and what every line means. No, he is not fond of River Lawn. All the things I love—the quaint old cottage rooms that father and mother found here before they were married, the low ceilings, the bow -windows, the great oak beams, and diamond panes, and leaden. lattices— have no charm for Uncle Ambrose. Nor yeb the handsome rooms that father built, so studiously arranged for mother's com- fort: drawing -room and dining -room below, bed -room, dressing -room and bou- doir above. Nothing could be more. picturesque than the old rooms, or more comfortable and luxurious than the new ; and yet Uncle Ambrose does not like the house. I can see it in his face. He seems to bear a grudge toward the place father loved and cared about. Is it jealousy, I wonder? Surely a philosopher, a man who has studied the desper mean- ings and mysteries of life, present and fu- eure,as Socrates studied them—surely such a man could not feel so petty and limited a feeling of jealousy—jealousy of my dear dead father's love and forethought for my mother; a jealousy so trivial as to set him against the room and the furniture my faller provided forhis wife. No; I os,n not believe him capable of such pettiness. He is a man of large mind and far reaching thoughts, and to be jealous about chairs and tables—impos- ible 1 But the fact still remedns. Uncle Am- brose does not like River Lawn. He is full of his plans for the house in Grosvenor Square. He has been to London with my mother twice already, to hurry on the work. He wants to install us there at the beginning of June, so that we can enjoy all the gaity of the season when the people almost live out-of-cloore. Mother was presented on her marriage and I am to be presented by mother. She has already begun to talk of my court gown all white, like a bride's. Cyril suggestecithat it would be an economy for us to marry while the gown is fresh ; but I told hitn that the idea of matrimony in relation to him had not yet entered my head. "It has entered other people's heads though, my dear Lady Disdain," said "1 suppose you know that a certain ite of rooms in Grosvenor Square is e ing fit. ted with a view to teurd4oi coupation ? " " With Et 'edeaee—means any time with . • s • in the next ten years," I told him. Upon this he began to be disagreeably persistent, and declared that nobody had ever contemplated a long engagement which is utterly untrue, since mother sug, gested that we should wait two years be. fore we marry. We had plenty of money he said, and what was there to prevent our being married before the summer was over1" great many things," said 1. "But first and chief among them the fact that we are both much too feather -headed to take such an awful step as matrimony." And then I reminded him how nice it is to be engaged ; how much nicer for young people like us, than to be'married and tied to each other in a sort:of domestic bondage. "Marriage is a capital institution for middle-aged and elderly people," said I. "Tho very best and brightest examples we have of married people are Baucis and Philemon, and Darby and Joan. Now you would not expect me to feel like Baucis. ' " BECUOIS was young once," said he "Yes, and then no doubt she was engage ed to Philemon, and he used to serenad- her as you did me that night ae Venice. Oh, it was lovely 1 You couldn't have serenaded your wife. You would have been in -doors grumbling at her, more like- ly. "Daisy, you are talking nonsense," said he sternly ; and no doubt he spoke he truth. "uh,I am only pleading for youth and liberty—for the morning hour a of life," I explained. "While you are my fiance you can go where you like, do what you like, and there is no one to find fault with you. If I were your wife I might feel offended at your going up to London so often, and cotning home so late at night, and being a member of so many clubs. If I were your wife I might grumble at. your accepting that invitation to Oxford for next week ?" "Tell me to withdraw my acceptance and it is done," he cried in his impulsive way. "I give you all the authority of a wife in advance. 'Being your slave, why can I do but wait—' " "Don't quote thatemenet," Isaid. "Ever - body does, Quote something fresh." He did not notice this impertinence. He was peeing up and down the rooto in a state of excitement. "Your mother did not think like you, Daisy," he said. "She was only nicleteen when she married " Ah, but then she adored my father," said 1 Without thinking what I was sayitig. He stopped his impetuous perambula- tions and walked over to me witha terrible countenance. He laid his hands upon my shoulders- and looked me in the face. "Margaret Hedrell," he mad, "do you mean what your words linply 2" " Do X mean that my mother yeas deeper. a tely in love with my father? Of course I POWDERS cure SICK HEADACHE and Nenralgle in act wriwurew, also Coated Tongue, Dip- ness,.Billoesness, Pain in the Side, Constipation, Torpid Liver, Bad Breath. to stay oured also regulate the bowels, VERT ;WOE TO ?ARR. PRiC 8 CEINTS AT DRUG 6701iE8. FOR TWENtY-FIVE UNN' ARS THECOOK'S BEST FRIEND LARotsir SALS fel CANADA, A wufk o' ret,lrdsrtb dads fa vor at last. Aleott. "And that you are not in love with me 2" "Not desperately in love. Oh, Cyril, don't look at me like that. You have no right to look so angry ; you have no rights to look so shocked and distressed. Did ever tell you that 1 adored you 2 Did I ever pretend to be desperately in love? Never, never, never! I am not romantic or poetieal, ad my mother was at my age. I have been taught differently. Your father trained my intnd, and he did not make me melodic.. It isn't in my nature to love any one As mother loved my father—At least I think not." A strange faltering otopped me an X Hata this, a ottriouse dine feeling that there were hidden possibilities in my heart ; dreams that I might have dreamed, feelings that would have brought ray naiad nearer akin to my mother's mind if fate hadbeen differ- ent. The look of absolute distress in his face made me unhappy, and I tried to make amend for my foolish, Inconsiderate speech. "Why should you be shucked because I am noeromantio ?" I asked. "I don't think you, are a very romantic person, either. We have known eaoh other all our ayes, and we ought to be very happy together, by and by. Is not that enough, Cyril ?" "Not quite," heanswered, graver than I had ever seen him until that moment ; "but I suppose it is all I shall get, so I must be satisfied." * * * * * * * Yesterday afternoon I Amused myself with an exploration. It was a lovely after- noon, almost summer-like, though we are still in the time of tulips and hyacinths, and the beeches have not yet unfolded their tender young leaves. , Mother had gone to London with her husband to look at the drawing -rooms, which are receiving their finishing touches at the hands of the de- corators, and I had all the day to myself. I spent the whole morning at my studies, work ing upon a, synopsis el Duray's historyof the Greeks, which Uncle Ambrose advised me to write; firstly, to impress historioal facts upon my mind; secondly, to oultivate style; and thirdly, to acquire the power of arrang- ing and condensing a subject with neatness and facility. It is rather dry work, but I like it, and I adore the Greeks. I have been reading Ebers' Egyptian story be- tween whiles, and I think that has helped me to realize the atmosphere of that by- gone age when Pieistratus was ruling at Athens, and Crcesus was preaching plati- tudes upon hia fallen fortunes at the Court of Amasis. I finished my work before lunch, which is an absurd meal when mother is away—a mere scramble with the dogs, who come in to keep me company, and clear my plate under my nose. Directly after lunoh I took up my hat to go out,wherenpon Sappho and Phaon, my darling Irish setters, went mad, and nearly knocked me down in their delighted anticipation of ,a ramble with me. We had explored every lane, copse, and common within four miles of River Lawn, so I wanted, if I possibly could, to give the dogs a change; and I thought I would yen - lure to peep in at Fountainhead, where the shrubberies are full of prinu•oses ab this season. The Fountainhead gardener and our under -gardener are great friends, and I have often talked to him when he has been in oui grounds. I know the old housekeeper too so I ha,d no compunction in opening a little gate in the shrubbery whioh gives on to the narrow lane that divides our property from Mr. Elorestan's. There is a grand entrance on the Henley Road, and high iron gates, and a rustic lodge with a thatch- ed roof and the dearest old chimney -stack. The gardener's family live in this lodge; but the big „gate is epened only when Mr. Florestan is at home, and. that is very seldom He told me he meant to be oftener at Fountainhead in future. He feels himself growing too old for a roving life. 1 auppose he must be at least ninceand-tweneygevegea is certainlydold genereeeted eieeitih"Cyril and 1 envy nice it is to be young—to feel one's, If quite young! and hoW sad it must be when vethrinessved agee begin th creep over one! I am miserable sometimes when I think that mother will grow old before I do —that I shall see the shadows stealing over that dear and lovely face—the shadows that foretell the end. Ohl that is the bane of life, that is what makes We not worth living—the knowledge that death is waiting somewhere on that road we know not—the gray, mysterious highway ol the future— waiting for those we love. * * * * The old shrubberies looked lovely in the afternoon sun, such a wild wealth of rhodo- dendron and arbutus, and so many fine conifers half buried among the spreading branches, a tangle of loveliness, periwinkle and St. John's wort straggling over every bit of unoccupied ground. Phaon and Sappho rushed about like mad things, im- agining all sorts of impossible vermin, and scratching and digging whenever they got out of reach of my whip. That dog -whip of mine looks forrnide.ble, but I'm afraid those two clever darlinga know that I would not hurt them for worlds. I had my pocket Dante with me,rneaning to try and fancy myself in the pine forest near Ravenna, where he used to meditate, but the book was so far true to its name that it never left my pocket. I seemed to have so much to think about, and a spring afternoon, with light cloudlets floating in a pale blue sky, and the perfume of violets in the air, seta all one's most fanciful fancies roaming far and wide. I think my thoughts were light as thistle-down,or vanity that afternoon,or they would never have strayed so far; and yet there was a touch of sadness in them, for I could not help thinking of Gilbert Florestan and his melancholy position, quite alone in the world, mother and father both lying still end dumb—as my dear father lies in his grave under the willows—no sister or brother, no one to care for him or to lean upon him. No doubt he has cousins, as I have. I have not quite made up my mind whether cousins are a necessary evil of a modified blessing. I'm afraid, if I stood alone in the world as he does,Dora and Flora would not fill a large gap in my life. I rambled in the shrubberies and the dear old-fashioned gardens till I was tired, and then I began to fe ;I the keenest curi- osity about the inside of the house. II; is not a pretty house, but it Is old and dignified. When one has come hue lately from a, oity of palaces, one can hardly .be altogether alive to the beauty of an old English mansion with mose-grown walls and deep-set windows, and a general gray- ness and low tone of oolor which some people dad disapiriting. Yet the house touched me by a kind of mournful beauty and a sense of quiet desolation, such as I felt only a few weeks ago when I looked at those old,neglected mansions upon them of the smaller co,nals,so gloomy in their gran- deur as of the dead, irrevocable put. I have fete sometimes as if I would give worlds to be able to buy one of those degraded, dilapidated old palaces, and to clear away all its parasite growth of petty, modern uses, and to restore it to the splendor and the beauty of three hundred years ago. And yet I have shuddered at the thought of the phantoms that might come cirowding round me in those great, grand rooms ; of all the dead peeple who might awake at the sound of mud° and kualitet in the home where they were once young and merry. I 'walked up and down the broad gravel terrace in front Of Mr. Pioreatan's house, It stands only bloat thirty feet above the level of the river bank, and a wide lawn slopes gently from the house to the river, eould see the boats going by, and hear the voices of the rowers, which were a relief after the uncanny feeling that had crept over me while I was in the great, overgrown garden on the other aide of the house. I believe the gardener :inlet have given him- self a holiday, for not a human oreature did Togo in the grounds. There is a glans door opening on to the terrace, wait an old-fashioned hanging bell. I ventured to ring that Antiquated bell, trembling a little at the thought of ghosts, and perhaps a little at the thought thab the old housekeeper would wonder at my wanting to explore her domain. The fancy had never come into my foolish brain before to -day ; but I suppose that was because I had then so little of Mr. Florestan until we xnet in Paris,and could not feel eller particular interest in hishouse. Now that I know him, the house theme like an old friend, and I wonder that I can have looked so often at the old Indian -red roof and the great gray stone chimney -stacks without wanting to see what the inside is like. No one answered my summons, though I heard the bell ringing with an awful dis- tinctness. I rang again, but still there was no answer, though I waited long for the feeblest of old women to creep from the remotest corner of the rambling old house. I rang a third time, and still there was no reply. And the more I couldn't geb in the more keenly curious I became, So at last, knowing old Mrs. Murclew would never resent any liberty on the parb of my mother's daughter, mother being a power at Lamford, 1 Wei the door. It opened easily and I went in, taking care to shut the door after me, so as to keep Pha,on and Sappho outside. They were thempering about the shrubberies,and I knew that they would find their way home when they missed me. I went in, feeling very much as Fatima must have felt ; or; in other worde'just a, little ashamed of my idle ouriosity. The' house is a dear old house' very shabby as to carpets and curtains butwith lovely old furniture of Sir Charles Gro.ndisonr, period, and with old china in every corner china whioh I feel assured must be worth a, fortune; but I will never breath a word about its value to Mr. Florestan, or he may pack it all off to Christie's. Men are such teethe where Wedgwood tea-pots and Worchester willow -pattern are in question. Yes,it is a dear old house. It has an old,old perfume of rose leaves and lavender, which must have been hoarded over so long before Mr. Florestanwas born, in all the old chrysan- themum bowls and hawthorn jars which stand about everywhere on the tops of cabinets and in corner cupboards, and in quaint little alcoves and recesses which one meets with unawares in the corridors and lobbies. Not all the wealth of the Indies could create such a house. It is the slow growth of time, like the golden•brown lichens and cool gray mosses on the garden waIlirso.amed and roamed about the rooms on the ground floor, opening one into another, quaintly inconvenient, with queer little doors, half wainscot and half wall -paper; rooms without the faintest pretention to splendor or dignity ; rooms that sqggest the world as Miss Edgeworth and f Miss Austen knew it ; a world in which people dined at five o'clock, and danced country dances, and played on the spinet, and painted on velyed,and talked . elmut the ann the-Britska,. (TO BE CONTINUED.) 26 DROWNED AT HOLYHEAD. The Osseo Driven Ashore in the Darkness— All Efforts to Beach Her FaiL A despatch from London says:—The British barque Osseo was wreckedin a gale et Holyhead early Sunday morning, and with her perished her entire crew of 26 The Osseo was, driven ashore back of the Holyhead breakwater. Her signals of dis- tress were first heard by the coast guard about 4 o'clock in the morning. At that time it was pitch dark and great waves were washing over the break crater. In spite of the danger of being washed into the sea, the guard proceeded along the breakwater amble -axing rigged up the rocket apparatus, began firing life lines in the direction of the k. faint light of .the rockets soon dis- wc l ro sche d e Te the fact that the veseel had broken in two amidships a,nd that the mainmast had fallen; crushing the lives out of several of the crew. A few aurvivors could be seen clinging to each half of the vessel,and their piteous ories for help could, be heard above the roar of the storm. After many failures the coast guard succeeded in firing a line over the wreck, but by that time all on board had perished. A lifeboat vainly tried againand again to approaoh the wreck. Not a vestige of the barque could be seen to -day, and there is no prospect of any sal- vage.' Something Subtle. 5 t: 4 1,11111t "I've been pondering over a very singular thing." " What is it ?" "How putting a ring on a woman's third finger should place you under thee woman's thumb." The General •Impression.. Biemehe—The you think, Mr. Waters, that hanging is a very pleasant death Waters—Well, ladies, it is generally allow- ed that there is nothing eo painful as euspense. "Hero's another one of those millionaire plumber jokes in the paper," said ()Hams. "Did you ever see a !doh plumber, Hicks 2" "Never," said Make. "All the plumbers I've seen have been Very poor plumbers. Still, a fellow may be a poor plumber and yet be a riell man." " Children Cu for Pitche6 Castiorko for Infante and Children. rtrAIrtutg"a"Pilai three r age Itrue atio 1 Wit=nilurious medication. a. recommend it as superior to an,v inwteription kuown to me." It. A. Anomie III So. Oxford St,, Brooldyn, N. Y. "Tho use of 'Castor's is so Universal and its merits so well/mown that it seems a werk of supererogationtoendorr.a Few srethe intelligent families who do not keep Oastoria within easyreach.” °Limos norrvir, New York City. Late Pastor Bloomingdale Reformed Church. E4131111116,. SIMON. Wornue sivets sleela sad Prot 048 I "For severae yse.. rs 1 haye recommender your ' Caetoxia, a.egi shall always continue to do so as ie leen invariably produced benenoiai results." EDWItT 1P. PADDEN. M. D., "The Winthrop," itleth Street and 7th AVea New York Cam CRINTAUX (IMPART, 77 11TUDTAY STERN% Nnw TOR& NienitalffiggEMBEMWMOMM/2110 Poets' Corner. A Dream. ivIethought that in a dream mine eyes Beheld the gates of Paradise, There many knocked and were denied The city of the sanctified, Who in the world had held high place; - While others, scorned of men, found grace, And entered through the portals wide, With forra and features glorified. And one drew near, with head held high, Of manner stem and flashing eye, Who quick bad passed within the gate Had,not the guardian bid him wait. " What claim bast th,u to share the bliss And peace that in this city is?" Questioned the keeper of the keys, Searching that soul's deep mysteries. Calm and serene the answer came: " On earth I earned the highest name As a reformer, ever sure To make the streams of life run pure. Tireless 'toiled to make men good, And live as I believed they should, Sin fell before my shining sword, And now I claim my just reward." The seraph shookhis shining head: "I dare not let you in," he said. "You'd surely rind ere half a year That such reform is needed hers: Streets bad! Style bad I Yes, you would say, 'These angels are decolletes ; The ancient stars are dim and dead, Let's hoist electric lights Instead!" Flood Time. Across the vale the floods are out, The floods are out with rush a.nd rout, Across the world tho floods are out, The land is in the sea. And round the oak tree that displays The bronze -bright head in wintry days, The roaring current swings and sways, Shouting his song of glee. Flotsam and jetsam whirling by The bridge whore lovers meet and sigh, The whirling crows flap wings and cry, And praise themselves that they Have builttheir homes, one-story each, In the tall masts of elm and beach And them no swelling flood can reach 1111 all the world be gray. The westward waters, cool, serene, Mirror the sunset's gold and green, A road of ilame and emerald. sheen, Broken to million lights. The eastwomd.waters take the moon; Clad in the psarl from throat to sheen Whiter than any lily in June She scales the heavenward heights. The Scarlet Tanager. Witch of the Wood, to your sylvan dell I have followed and found you not, - Where brooklets glisten and hilltops swell And the air seems a tinkling silver boll Have I followed and found you not. I've traced your steps where the delicate grass In homage bows at you daintily pass, And the rich rose blushes a deeper red As it treasures the kisses you softly shed. Coy in your secret, well bowered nest, You are resting secure, I know; With your velvety wings in graceful rest, Oh, wildWood bird. that I love the beet, And your singing is soft and low. My ears are (loaf to the feathered throng That vainly seek to rival your song; And the forest to me seems only bright With the rays you' flash in your rapid flight. The Blind Man. Over the way a blind man dwells, Wbone all our little village knows, At up and dowel the street he goes, A nd sp roads his simple we.res,itnd sells, And all the neighbors pity him.; But, sometimes when ho conies to Me To ask me of the things I see. Unknown within his world so dim, I almost with that I might go With him into that darkened land, Nor see, nor try to understand The things that make mo sorrow so. In the cemetery at Barnstable, Malat,, it the following inseription "Here lyeth interred ye body of Mrs. Hope Chipman, ye wife of Elder John Chipman, aged 45 years, who changed this life for a beer ye 8 of IfbantliRetlf#enl6s8eo32; the ridioulous le one eicle of an impressible nature, it is very well ; but if that is all there is in a man, he had better have been an ape and stood af, the head of his profession at once, THE FIELD OF ORIDIEROE, Some Items of Interest to the Busi- ness Man. Nearly 7,000 shares of Montreal Street Railway sold in Montreal, last week. The withdrawals from the Postoffith Savings Bank exceeded the deposits during the month of November by over $30,000. The reserve of the Bank of England de- creased £529,000 last week, and the pre - portion of reserve to liability is 63.67 per cent, as Compared with 63.28 a week ago. Some grades of leather are more active in the United States, but others less, and it is noted that the menufacturers of shoes do not believe in higher prices for leather. Hemlock sole is active with sales exceeding receipts, and there are large sales of union crop, the heavy weights being in better demands. The deinand continues good for really gilt edge securities with console at about the highest quotations in their historyeand Canadian bonds seveial points higher than a year ago. Wheat quotations are practically unchang- ed, and the holiday dullness is being. felt. Receipts are smaller than in preceding weeks, but the accumulation of stock non- tieues, and the visible suppler both here and abroad is much larger. Some selling for foreign account is reported, and it is rumored that wet weather is delaying the harvest in" Argentina:- Many traders think that the American crop is nearly marketed, and that a severe deoline in arrivals will soon be noticed, but no con- sequent advance in price has occurred. The best news is the strength of French markets, but continental marketa generally do not respond. It may not generally be known that the feathers of wild fowl form such an impor- tant factor in the feather and down busi- DOS. The Alaska Feather &Down Co., of Montreal, have recently completed ar- rangements with ---the Hudson Bay 0o., whereby they have secured the entire, amount colleoted annually on the cosset of Hudson's Bay and Labrador amounting •th the large aggregate of eix tons per year. These feathers are gathered mainly by Indians, and are from geese, ducks (incited - lug the eider duck) gulls and partridge,and are said to be of a very superior quality. When it is considered the small weight �f feathers contributed by a single bird a faint idea may be conceived of the tremende ous slaughter there must be to eecnre twelve thousand pounds of feather4 These feathers have been shipped to England by the Hudson's Bay Co.,' for the past 200 years, end are rlold at auction. They eon - thine to be gripped there OA usual, ond ere reshipped to Montreal in unbroken pack- agee, when they are taken in hand by the above named company who have an exten- sive plant, and are converted into pilloWs, cushions, eider down bed covers, and in fact everything in whioh feathers can be utilized, The firet shipment of 3,000 pounds have just been received by this company, Ballads are the gypsy children of song, born under the peon hedgerows in the leafy lanes and bypathe of literature, in the gen, ial summer time—Longfellow 0, eonspiraoy 1 shams't thou to show thy dangerous brow by night, when evils are moth free? 0, thou, by day, Where Wilt tbou find a cavern dark epough to mask thy Metietrons visage e—Shakeepearee David Chrietio Marray prides himself upon being able o write a three-vMume novel in five*weekr.