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HomeMy WebLinkAboutThe Exeter Times, 1895-1-31, Page 6T B EXETER TINE S AN ' STORY. 1 must prove worthy of my own self•ooufi- deuoo. I am ixob a Muting young person—indeed, I paver faiuted in my life ; but last night I was afraid that I was going to faint, and I ad to struggle against a swimming to Iny head, and a paiuful sense of lightness hioh made me totter a little as. I turned to Denmark Street. I saw the minrber I was in soafch of from opposite side of the way. There was ailor'a workshop which I had read iu the newspaper. The windows vide open, and half a dozen men were in a glare of gas. I oould not help. they !coked like lost souls in nium—the bare, dusty room, the heat,on this summer night,wheu we shining on all the flowery 'llo wy islands near Lamford, the world were so lovely for • 1?;` a works op, and ebeen one of those men who ether's murderer go singing tairs, fresh from his 'deed of k the idea of that, and the aced my nerves, for 1 felt ng as I crossed the road and ie door of the fatal house. ed for some minutes before anyone o the door, though I knocked a see - on. tun,. Then a woman appeared, an elderly woman, who looked at ire curious- ly1 told her I wanted a lodging—a respect. able room at seven shillings a week ; but site answered rather sharply that she only let lodgiugs to men—why prefer men, I wonder 9—and she was going to shut the door in my face, when. I grew desperate, and stopped her by laying my hand upou her arm. "There was a murder eight years ago in this house,"I said. "Let me see the room where it was done, and I'll give you seven shillings." I would as soon have offered her a sover- eign, but I had got the sum of seven shill- ings in my mind in connection with the rent of a lodging, and I offered her that amount unthinkingly. It was enough, however, for she snapped at my offer. " Come in," she said, looking at me very hard and very suspiciously all the time. "That's a curious fancy of yours. You haven't anything to do with the murderer, I hope?" " No ! not no 1" I cried. "I'm glad of that," said she. "Ah, he was a devil, that man—a smooth -faced, smooth-tongued devil. The sight of him and the sound of his voice makes me sick and faint whenever I call hint to mind. H e put a blight upon me and on my house. I've never been the same woman since. I •asked her what the map was like, finding that she was willing to talk, and she described his appearance in a great' many words,but her words did not conjure up any distinct image. He was good looking and lie was young. She did not take hint for much over thirty. He was dark, with fine black eyes, and he wore a moustache, but no . beard- He talked English, hat he spoke like a for- eigner. This was all I could gather from her. She wenb slowly up the stairs bee fore me, with a paraifine lamp in her hand, and she flung open the door of the back room on the second floor and told me to go in, holding up the lamp on a level with her head se that I might see the•room. "I've kept it just as it was that day," she said. "I've never had a good let in all the eight years—not a permanency. there's a blight upon the room; but people come and look at it, as it might be you, and give me a trifle." I looked at the room—a square, common - looking room, with very shabby furniture, and a single window looking out upon roofs and ohimney-stacks. All looked dark and dreary—the light of the flaring lamp only made the squalid furniture seem more squalid. Oh, what a scene to meet those dying eyes 1 What a horror in that one agonizing moment to feel himself caught like a snared bird, trapped in such a hole as this 1 " How did he look?" where did you find him lying ?" I asked ; and then she described that ghaatly eight, showing me the spot where our dear one lay, gloating over every detail. I could have shrieked with agony as I listened to her. She had put down the lamp on the table, and she clawed my wrist with ter skinny fingers as she pointed with the other hand to the floor, and she acted over all the scene, " as it night be here, as it might be there," and she dwelt upon the look of the dead face when they lifted him from the floor and laid him on that wretched bed until my heart seemed to turn to stone. I could not speak. I just let her go on. I had so wanted to know all—all that the commonest lips could tell --all, from any source, however cruel. I let her talk on to her heart's content, like a ghoul as she was; and. then I went with her down -stairs somehow, quite numbed and cold, as if I had been in a nightmare dream, and I went out into the dark street. I made up my mind to walk home. I felt the air and exercise would give me my only chance of getting calm after the agony of that quarter of vn hour. I walked on binde ly for some distance, first in one street and then in another, going out of my way, I believe, yet vaguely making for the west. I had lost all sense of time, and when I heard a church clock strike an counted the strokes I was surprised to find that it was only ten. lb was almost immediately after this that I came into a long ebabby.looking street, whinh looked so empty and desolate thatl felt as much alone in it as if I had been walking in one of our Berkshire lanes. There was only one lighted spot in the street, and that looked like a hotel or a restaurant. - It was a restaurant, and as I got nearer on the opposite side of the street I naw the name : iced ice, and, after to my health, recom- to try Ayer's Pills. 1 had little 1n these or any other medicine, but floneiuded, at last, to take his advice and try a box. Before I had used them all, I was *ery Much better, and two boxes cured me. Y am now 80 years old; but I believe that ie It had not been for Ayer's Pills, I should have been in my grave long ago. I buy 6 run every year, which make 210 boxes up this time, and I would no more be with- out them than without bread."—B. H. Ingraham, Rockland, Me. AYER'S PiLLS Prepared by Dr. J. 0. Ayer &. Co.,Lowell, Masa. Every Dose Effective • THEE-TETER TIMES. Ispnblianed'everyThnrsdav moron';, TI MES STEAM PRINTING HOUSE lifstin-street,nearly Fitton's Jewetery tore,Exeter,Ont.,by John White & Sons,Pro• 9rietors. RATES or ADVERTISING F)rstinsertion, peril nee ..... ...... —mem Dents 'tech subseque.itiusertrou ,per line......Scente, To insure insertion, advertisements should eesentin notlaterthan Wednesday morning OnrJOl3 x'RINTING DEP'RTMENTis one elite largest and best equipped in the County PiRuron,All work entrusted to us willreeeere norpromptatteueion: Decsions Regarding News- papers. elAyperson who takes a paperregalarlyfro n thepoet-otlioe, whether directed in his name or another's, or whether he has subscribed or not irresponsible for payment. 2 If a person orders his paper discontinued hemust pay all arrears or the publisher may ontinuo tosend it until the payment is made, lid then collect the whole amoant, whether e paper is taken from the office or not. 8 In suits for aabsoripiions, the suit may be natituted in the place where the paper is pub iahed, although the subscriber may resids hundreds of =lea away. . The courts have deoided that refusing to e.knewspapers or,teriolteets Prom Sae pads. file. or re.nJring and 101Yt1; t1d n a.ie uu seprlma faoia evide ace of inteutiunel fraad NEWS/ E. 1v v;;'—'-•- - - ett cure the worst eases Ner Nervous that Lost Vigor and Failing Manhood; restores the weakness of body or mind caused by over -work, or the errors or oz. ceases of youth. This Remedy ab- solutely cures the most obstinate cases when all other TREAra ENTS have failed even to relieveold by drug- gists at $1. per package, or six for $5, or sent by mail on receipt of price by addressing Tr'i' .7 4. MOS MEDICINE DO.. Thrown Ont. W - Sold at Brownine'a Drug Store, Exeter, BEANS aRfrAD-MAKER'a wmtausw YEI Rita re orir S,1Tisr;,OTOv 4,0 Electric Thunderstorms. What produces the electricity in a bhunderatorm ? This question, of perennial interest both to the scientific man and the ordinary enquirer, can scarcely be said to be completely and satisfactorily solved. It has, however, generally been supposed that the big drops in a thunder shower were the result of electrification, for working an electrical machine in a fog causes the min- ute drops to adhere together and form larger ones. But now come developments that render it probable that the big drops are not re- "�'"\ sults, but causes, at Least of part of the v , electricity manifested. When a drop l splashes on a metal plate the latter becomes electrified, and it is now believed that every much drop carries a double layer of electricity, ptsitive and negative. On the drop these neutralize each other, but the splash dissipates ono and so renders the other evident. The same thing would happe• if two drops splashed against each other in the air, as must often be the case, and hence, perhaps, by the aggregation of millions of such splashes, comes the lightning bolt that rends the oak or shatters the spire. Common Matches. The big -headed, stumpy fusees used by smokere, and which will sizzle and keep afire is the windiest weather, are simply common matches with a composition of the Blow -fire kind. The mixture in the big oval head is porous and is made of charcoal, saltpeter, powdered glees, gum and some, bweet•soented barks—all of it tipped with the igniting composition. Those matches are dipped repeatedly until the proper amount of Composition is put do the head of the shore; splint. The wax matches, or ves tam are made bydrawingcote or. threads through molted stearine end paraffin. The wax hardens' rapidly on the threads, and is lien rounded nicely by being drawn through i, ,I. t. leis Jo re, sto 1 late. 'The wax threads �t1 nee out to the required length and are then dipped. W ilIiam Cobbett worked on hie father's arm: thought of countenances I had seen :galleries—ef this or that ,ludas, or that murderer—the malignant face with dull -red hair ; the swarthy race with close -cut black hair ; the rugged features and beetling brow ; the low, scarcely human forehead, under ragged, tangled locks; all of the villainous and inhuman that painters have ever conceived ; yet I could Bever piotute to myself the form and face of the man who killed my father. Night after night I have lain awakes. thinking of him. My father has ween much more often in my thoughts since we Dame to London than he was while we were at peaceful River Lawn, where I used to lie awake to hear the nightingales in the warm .lune nights, and where the sound of the river always soothed me like a lullaby. Here all the gayety and splendor, the operas and playa, the music and danc- ing, and talk and laughter, are not enough to make me forget that in this city my father was murdered. If there were no such wilderness as Leaden, he might be living and among us to -day. He might be ours for many a year to come. I want to see the house in which my father died. I want to see the room in which he was found lying stabbed to death. I have told Cyril my feelings on this point, but he refuses to take me to see the house, or even the street in which my father died. He can not understand me. lie can not understand that this dreadful sensation of being haunted nightly by the vision of the deed and the room might be lessened by fa- milarity with the actual scene, however painful the sight of that horrible place might be. I have entreated him to take me there,but he steadfastly refuses, so I have made up my mind to go there without him. Mother and. her husband are going to a grand dinner this evening, to meet royalties ; Cyril has gone to Oxford to.dine with the Bullendon Club. I shall have the evening auto myself, and Ishall go to Deumark Street alone. I suppose it is rather an awful thing for a girl of my age to go out after eight o'clock, and I have never been in the streets of London by myself at any hour ; but I don't care to take even my good Broomfield, for she would moat Iikely make as many objec- tions as Cyril, and I might fail in getting inside the house I want to see. I would rather depend entirely upon my own clever- ness. I know the number of the street ; I know the position of the room ; I know that it is a street - of lodging -houses, so I can very easily make believe to be in search of lodgings. I shall wait till the carriage has driven off with mother and Uncle Ambrose, and then 1 shall send down word to the butter that 1 have a headache and wont't dine. 1 know where Uncle Ambrose leaves the latchkey whit. h he always uses when he comes in from v walk, so I can let myself in as gnietly a + let myself out. I shell put .n my very plainest cloth gown, and a ¢tial by little garden -hat, 8o as to look like a work -girl, or anything com- mon or ineignihcant. I have seen that dreadful room—a com- monplace, ill -furnished room in a shabby lodging -house, and the sight of it will haunt me to my dying day. Cyril was right and I was wrong. It was a senseless thing to do and I ought to have left it un- done. Everything happened as I hoped. The pretended headache did me good service. I wee, mistress of my time and actions before nine o'clock. - I slipped off my tea -gown and dressed myself for the character of a young woman in search of a respectable lodging at seven shillings a week. I suppose that is about the price work girls a PThe evening was gray and dull, not dark, but thick and heavy, with an oppressive feeling in the atmosphere as of stored -up heat and dust—each a different atmosphere from the cool, dewy air in the garden at Lam ford on a midsummer night. 1 had studied the map of London, and had carefully made out my way to Denmark Street, but seeing a benevolent -looking old cabman, with a red nose, creeping along olose to the curb in Grosvenor Street, I hailed him, and told him to drive me to St. Gilea's Church. He drew up in front of a church in a shabby -looking street, where there were shops still open, though it was after nine o'clock.I gave him half a crown, which he did not seem to think enough. " Do you want me to Wait for you, mise ?" he asked. " You won't get another cab in this neighborhood." I said no, for 1 was shaken dreadfully by that one ride, and I felt it would be tempt - big Providence to let the red -nosed eel). man drive me again. My heart was beating so violently that I hardly knew what I was doing : but I began telling myself to he calm and collect. eI, and to remember that I was there in opposition to (:yril's aivice, and that I RE5TAIIRANT Dt7 P,AVILLION. I was walking slowly, meaning to ask the first policeman I met to put mein the right way to Grosvenor square, and not oaring even if 1 went out of my way, for the cool air and the movement were helping me to reoover my calmness, when three men came pouring out of the lighted door -way, talk- ing and laughing in a boisterous kind of way that made foe think they were tipsy. One of them saw me, and oalled out something to hie friends in l+renoh, to which the others replied in the same language ; but I could not understand a word they said. I hurried my ateps, and tried to get out of their reach, but the man who had spoken first came across the road and began to talk to me, in English this time, asking me where I was going, and whether I would go to a music -hall with him and his friends. I cannot record the horrid tone and manner of the snail. I haste to rolnontber lits vulgar ineolenco. I hate to think that them are auoh men in the world, and that poor, hard-working , gide, euoh as I was supposed to be, are exposed to the insol- ence of such oreateres, and have such bate - fol worda forced upon their. ears as they go quiotlyhomefromtheir work. The wretoh caught hold of my arm and urged me to go with him to some place which ho called The Orford,, while hie friends, who apoke only in French, laughed boisterously, and talked of my affeoted prudery. 1 was furious. I shook myself free from the wretch's touch, and 1 looked up and down the street in deapair for some one Who would help me. "Row dare yon speak to Hie or touch mo, you odious creature ? I cried ; and thou he took off his hat in mocking aoknowledg- ment of an imaginary compliment. I saw in the light of the lamp close above us that he had an olive oomplexion,like an Italian's, and black ayes, and T remembered with a shudder the woman'a description half an hour before. There must be thousands of such men among the exiles who come to London for refuge ; yet I shall never see such a fade without reoalling the unknown image of my father's murderer. He pretended to think that my anger was only assumed, and went on with his hateful compliments and offers of supper and champagne at The Oxford, and I saw in my despair that there was not a mortal in eight to whom I could appeal for pro- tection. The door of the restaurant stood open, and I could sea lights and ser- vants moving about inside. I had half a mind to rush across the street and go iu at the open door, where no doubt some one would have taken my part against these horrid men. But my courage failed me in the next instant. It would have been such a wild thing to do, and how could I have faced half a dozen astonished wait- ers in the glare of that gaslit vestibule ? I looked down the street again, and, this time there was a. promise of reacuo in the shape of a hansom cab coming along rapid= ly, with two great flaming, lamps, like a dragon with fiery eyes, the good dragon that comes to rescue forlorn damsels—not to eat them. I ran into the road and hailed the driver, without stopping to see it the cab was empty. While 1 waved my hand in frantic appeal—how ashamed of myself I feel to- day when I have to write about it in this cold-blooded journal—somebody inside the cab dashed his stick up through the little trap-door in the roof just as frantically. The driver pulled up sharp, and a big, middle- aged man got out of the cab and came to me. - How thankful I felt that he was so big and so middle-aged 1 I felt the utmost confidence in him, almost as if he h'td been my uncle. " Is there anything the matter 9" he asked, looking at my persecutors. " Yea," I answered, " one of these man has been horribly rude to me. They have all been rude ; but that one"—I pointed to my worst tormeutor—" has been the most offensive." "He will not be offensive any more, un- less he wants to be thoroughly well kicked," said my friend; and he looked as if he would like to do it. "Please don't take any trouble about him," I said ; "he is tipsy, I believe, and he is really not worth•kicking. He wouldn't know anything about it afterward, so it would be wasted trouble. If you would oblige me so far as to give me your cab - you would be able to get another one very soon, I suppose—I should be deeply grate- •ful." "My cab is quite at your service. Where shall I tell the mac to drive you?" " To Grosvenor Square. My name is Hatrell—Miss Hatrell." bines pity thein, poor creatures 1 when I etre the long, long letters, many of them eo well written, consigned to the wastepaper basket, and potholes tronlo of these piteous letters may have a good deal of truth in them, " Did that foreign person tell a oq his name ?" I asked the butler; as I went into the dining -ronin. " No, ma'am." "And had he been here before today?" " Yes, ma'am, Re oalled yesterday evening to inquire if there was any answer to his lettere; He sent two lettersby a oommissionnaire-.-oue in the morning, and ouein the afternoon."' What an importunate 'wretch the man must bo ! My blood runs cold at the theught that he may mean, to tell my step -father about having seen me walking along in Church Street late at night, He might make up any story and I should have no witness against him; for I do not know the name of my good middle-aged friend in the cab, If he dare to slander me I must tell .Efac1eALnbrgaa the erliciletentle'and brave - it out. He will be shocked, no doubt, at the idea of my prowling abort London secretly after dark; but be can nob refuse' to forgive ire when I tell him of the insurmountable impulse which took me to that, fatal house. Cyril and 1 went to Hurlingham this afternoon with mother, and saw a polo matoh, and then strolled about the lawn and looked at the river together, while mother sat on the terrace in front of the house talking tq her friends. It seems to me sometimes as if all the women in London must bo her friends,she is so beset wherever we go, Thepublic life, the constant movements,and perpetually changing faces do not suit me half so well as River Lawn end its placid insipidity. My books, my tiano, an occasional single at tennis with Beatrice Reardon, my boat, my garden. Yes, I love Berkshire and I believe I hate London. The .day was lovely; Hurlingham was lovely; Cyril was full of the kindest atten- tions; and yet I was not happy. Apart from my uncomfortable apprehension about the man called Duverdier, I felt as if something had gone wrong in my life, That odious man has forced himself into my step -father's presence, after ever so many repul es, _and I am utterly mystified by his aadacity and by my step -father's reticence. Cyril and I were at the opera last night with mother. Mother had promised to show herself, if it were for only half an hour, at a recept.on at the Foreign Office, where she is likely to meet all the people she, knows and does not care a straw about. So we;droppedher in at Whitehall, looking superb in pale -gray brocade, lighted up with sapphire's and diamonds, and with her beautiful throat rising up out of a ruff of ostrich feathers ; and then the carriage took us home, with instructions to goback for mother in half an hour. Uncle Am- brose had been complaining of headache all day, and was not well enough to go to either opera or party. The door was opened, and I was just going in when a man seetned to spring out of the darkness, pushed himself in front of Cyril, who was following Hie, and almost leaped into the house at my side. There were two men in the hall; bat foot -men are stupid, solemn creatures, trained to move slowly and to hold their chins in the air, and t;either of those two powdered dolts had the sense to stop him. He walked straight to Uncle Ambrose's study, at the back o3 the hall, opened the door, and went in. I waited breathlessly, expecting to see him, flung out into the hall again in the next moment; but he shut the door behind him, and the door remained shut. Uncle Ambrose was evidently giving him an interview. - - Cyril was furious. I repeated the name very distinctly, for I wanted my unknown friend to under- stand that I was not ashamed of myself, although he found me in such a disagree- able position. Two of my assailiants had sneaked off already, with a laugh, and an air of being quite at their ease; but my chief tormentor stood as if he were glued to the pavement, staring at me in a drill and stupid way, while I got into the cab, and shook hands gratefully with my nameless friend. He hal been noisy enough a few minutes before, when he was doubtless in the lo- quacious stage of intoxication; but now he seemed to have passed into a silent and stony stage which was like absolute stupefaction. One of his friends turned to look after him when they had gone some little way ahead. "Hole, Duverdier ! Vona to to planter la toute la nuit?" be called. out. So my tormentor's name is Duverdier? ' I stopped the cabman et the corner of the square, paid him to his perfect satisfac- tion, for I lust emptied the silver in my porte-monnaie into his hand, and walked quietly to our own door, where I let myself in like a thief in the night. CHAPTER XVIIL DAISY'S DIARY. How full of strange coincidences this life is 1 It is a small thing, of course, but still it has vexed me and worried me more than I can say. This morning, the second after my wretched adventure in Church Street, I heard a most hatefully familiar voice in the hall as I came down -stairs from the second floor just before lunch. I stopped on the first -floor landing and listened to the voice below. I had not a shadow of doubt as to the owner of that hateful voice, even before I looked over the balustrade and saw that odious wretch standing in the bright light from the south window, talking to the butler. It was the man who tormented me with his insolent invitation to supper at The Oxford, the man whom his companions oalled Duver- dier. He was there iu the morning sun- shine—a creature who should only have been visible at night and in the shabbiest pieces. "Has, Mr. Arden had my lettere?" he asked, ihis foreign English. "Yes, sir they have been given to him." " Three letters?" "Yes, sir." " Two yesterday, and one this morn- ing?" "Yes, sir. They were all given to him." "And there is no answer. Was that Mr. Arden's message ?" " Yes, sir: My master told me to1eIl you there was no answer." "And he declines to see nee?"' " Yes, sir." " Very good." He said " very good" with a face like a thunder -cloud. He lingered a little, brushing hie hat with his coat cuff, in an agitated manner, and looking about him angrily, first at one door then at another,as if he hoped to see Miele Ambrose appear at one of them. At last he turned on his heel abruptly and went out withou t another word. Isupose he is one of the great army of begging letter -writers who assail both mother tend 'Uncle Ambrose. 1 some. "Do you know that fellow? a he asked the footmen. "He have been here before, sir, arstin' for answers to his letters, three or four, or I should say as much as five or six times within the week," one of the men stated solemnly, as if he had been in a witness. box. "Do you know his name, or who and what he is?" "I do not, sir, Ieastways only that he's a foreigner." Cyril walked over to the door of the study ope.ed it, and went in. I waited with my heart beating violently, expecting to be called in and questioned about my adven-, ture in Church Street. Cyril came back to the hall in a minute or two. " My father seems to know the fellow, and wishes to hear his grievance, whatever it is," he told me, with a vexed air. " I don't like the look of that man, and I told my father how he had pushed past me and rue/led into the house. However, my father choose to hear his story, and 1 can say nothing. Come up to the divan, Daisy; I don't want to be out of the way while that fellow is on the premises." The divan is a little room on the half flight, fitted up in Mauresque style, and only divided from the landing by a parti- tion partly stained glass and partly carved sandal -wood from' Persia. It is a capital nook for gossip or flirtation, when we have a party the divan is always in ✓;rest re. quest. It is lighted by the Oriei-t.tl lamp, which is in perfect harmony with the de- coration, but which gives a very indiffer. ent light. Cyril ordered strawberries and lemonade to be sent up to this retreat, and we sat there for half an hour, pretending to talk about the opera, but both of ue obviously preoccupied and uncomfortable, and both of us listening for the opening of the study door below. I know we talked in hushed voices, and never withdrew our attention from what was going on downstairs. We oould see the hall door through the open door of the divan, at the end of the pieta beyond the shallow flight of stairs. "I hate mysteries," Cyril said at lust, in the midst of a languid debate about the merits and demerits of the new tenor. I got up, and Cyril and I went on to the lauding, and stood there looking over the balustrade into the hall until the door opened, and his father's voice called to the footman, "See that man out;" where- upon the man opened the great hall door, and the midnight visitor went out just a minute or so before the carriage stopped and mother alighted. She came into the hall in her long white cloak with its downy ostrich trimming, such a lovely, gracious figure, the gems bit her rich brown hair flashing in the lamplight. Uucle Ambrose came out of his den to receive her, "Were. you amused, dearest?" he `asked. "Was it a pleasant party?" '"It was a brilliant one, at any rate," she answered. "I met all the people we know, ande, few stare and foreign orders that I don't know. How white you look, Ain. brose 1 You ought hot be up so late. What was the use of staying away from the opera and the reception only to tiro your- self at home 1" "I have not been tiring myself, except With a dull book by a clever man, What Children Cry for Pitther''s Gestate; pains seine olevor Hien take to be du11, by the way '1 1 have been reaping as much as I oan rest, dear, I ampast that golden age When Sloop oomee ab will." "But you had a late visitor. Who was. the man who went out of the house just before I arrived ?" - "An old acquaintance—that le to say, a book -binder who worked for the years ago, who has the common complaint of old ao- gtiaintancos--impeon niotleueaL "And you helped him, of course?" "I heard Itis story, and have promised to consider it." But if he is in immediate want.—" "My dearest, I have no opinion of the man's oharaoter, and I am doubtful wheth. er I ought to believe his story. He forced an entrance into this house in an unwar- rantable manner, and it would have served him right had I sent for a policeman and given hint in charge. However, he pleads sore diatress as an exouse.for his audacity, and 1 let him tell me his story. I shall do nothing for him unless I get some confirm- ation of his statement trom a respectable quarter." Cyril and I were leaning overthe balustrade, straining our ears to listen. A book -binder; that impertinent wretch is a book -binder. And what a tisane of falsehoods his story of distress must be, when I saw him reeling out of a restaurant with his boon companions less than a week ago. I auppose the wretch has said nothing• about his meeting with me. He may not have associated the name of Hatrell with his old employer, Mr. Arden; and yet a moan of that kind, hanging about the house as he has done, would be likely to•find out all about us. He passed close to me as he pushed his way into the hall; but it is just possible he did not recognize inc in my very different style of dress. There was nothing in my step-father'e. manner to indicate agitation or irritation of any kind. I never heard his melodious voice calmer, or his accents more measured, than when he explained the midnight visit to my mother in the hall. "The mountain has brought forth a mouse," said Cyril, gayly. Mother came upstairs in the next minute, so I wished Cyril good -night and went up to her dressing -room with her to hear all about the party, while her maid took off her jewels and finery. July 15th.—We are at home once more in the dear old rooms and in the lovely old garden, and I feel almost as if my sixteenth birthday were still a grand event in the future—feel almost as young as I felt in the old .childish days before mother's marriage, and our Ite.han travels, and our London gayeties, and all the experiences that have made me a woman of the world. I feel almost as I felt et sixteen, almost, bub not quite, as happy as I felt then. There is no use in keeping a diary unless one is sternly truthful, and stern truth compels me to acknowledge to this book that I am not so happy as 'f was before mother's marriage and my own engagement to Cyril. I pray God every morning and every night that I may grow fonder of Cyril— that I may learn to adore him, between now and our wedding -day. An engaged girl once told me that she did not care .a straw for • her fiance when she accepted hint. She only thought that it would be nice to be married and have a house of her own, and she Sled visions of her trousseau, and her mother had promised to give her half her diamonds when she married—all sorts of selfish considerations—but by the time she had been engaged three months she felt that she could beg her bread bare- foot through the world with the mar who was,to be her husband. That was her way of putting it. Cyril is clever, generous minded, good looking. He is a fine tennis -player; he sculls splendidly. A girl ought to find it easy to adore him. What, can I want in a lover it I am not satitfied with him ? Do I expect to marry a demi-god ? (TO BE CONTINUED.) 41r' �;;-•ew M� r>x-�,s ,041111141,4111A,„ MINI illlllll This This is the iiew shortening or cooking fat which is so fast taking the place of lard. It is an entirely new food product composed of clarified cotton seed oil and re- - finad beef suet. You can see that. How to get a""Sunlight" Picture. Send 25 "Sunlight" Soap wrapper, (wrapper bearing the words "Why Does a W oman Look Old Sooner Than a Vlan") to Lever Bros., Ltd., 43 Scott St., Toronto, and you will receive by posta prettypictures free from advertising, and well worth fram- ing. This is an easy way to decorate your home. The soap is the best in the market and it will only cost le. postage to send in the wrappers, if you leave the ends open. Write your address carefully. - A Foreign Marriage. . Mrs. Pelt—"Did she oetch a nobleman?" Mrs. Eiyde—"Oh, no." Mrs. Pelt—"Ah, one of the landed gen- try ?" Mrs. Hyde—"I presume so. At least, he was after she landed him." When Baby ,'aa stns, we gave her Castello. When she was a Child, she cried for Castoria. When she became )Eiss, she clung to easterly... When she had Children, she gave them Castcria " I was standing at my front door one bitter day in Winter, when a little ragged chap came up to the and asked me for an order of admission. To test him, I pretend- ed to be rather rough with him. KENDALL'S SPAVIN CURE TH E 'MOST SUCCESSFUL REMEDY FOR Pi3AN OR BEAST, Certain in its effects and never blisters. Bead proofs below: KENDALL'S SPAM CURE DLUnronee, L. N.V., Jan. 18,1804. Dr. B. J. KENDALL Co. tlanttem.en.-I bought a 61lendid bayliorse socio time ego with 0l6ptry in. I got him for$80. I used Kenclatl's spavl,.t Ohre. The. 1 avis is gone now and I have been ()Meted $160 for the Serve horse. I only had hila nine weeks, so I got $120 for using $2 worth of Kendall's Spavin Cure. Yours truly, p� W. S. M.tns. sDlc KENDAL.' NN CURE snstns tom. 16,1893. Dr. Dr. 13..1. II'urtner.n Co. „ Dec. 1 Sirs --I have used your lfendall's Spavin Curo with good success for €Curbs on two horses and it 1e tato best Liniment I hays ever used. Yours truly, AUn;JaT FaEDtcatoK. Trico 1141 per Dottie. Fpr Salo by all Druggists, or address Dr. D. ,.T. Iz7i'.1v7I A..D.D COJ111,Alfira EN000UrteH FALL¢. VT. s_ a .y gee. Is clean, delicate, wholesome, appetizing, and economical --as far superior to lard as the electric light is to the tallow dip. Ifasks - only a fair trial, and a fair trial will convince you of its value. Sold in 3 and 5 pound pails, by all. grocers Made only by Tho N. Fairbank Company, Wellington and Ann Stay MONTREAL. FOR MEN AND WOMEN. THE OWEN ELECTRIC BELT. rado Mark] DR. A. OWEN. The only Scientific and Practical Electtrrilc. -.alt, made for general use, producing aGenudsle urrent'of E+lectrioity for the cure of Diseas , hat can bo readily felt and regulated both in uantity and power, and applied to any part of he body. It can be worn at any time during orking hours or sleep, and will positively cure Rheumatism, Seiatica,iity • General Lumbago, Nervous Diseases Dyspepeia, Varicocele, Sexual Weakness imp1otency, , IC dneyy Di senses, Lame Back, k'` / IIrinary Diseases Electricity* properly applied is fast takin alis -. lace of drugs for all Nervous. Rheumatic: Kiiflfl toy and Urinal Troubles, and will effect cures o seemingly hopeless cases where every other flown means has failed. Any sluggish, weak or diseased organ pray y this means be roused to healthy activity efore it is too late. Loading medical men use and recommend he Owen Belt in their practice. OUR ILLUSTRATED CATALOGUI2. 'ontains fullest information regarding the curs ,f acute, chronic and nervous diseases, prices, -now to order, etc., mailed (sealed) FREE to •any address. The Owen Electric Belt & Appliance Co, 49 KING ST. W., TORONTO, Oar, 201 to 211 State St., Chicago, Ill MENTION 10018 PAPER. CA TI K'S Il�� VEg�rR+ PILLS. Sick Headache and relieve all the troubles Incl. dent. to a bilious state of the system, such as Dizziness, Nausea. Drowsiness Distress after eating Pain in the Side, &c.. While their most remarkable success has been shown in curing aK ` r Headache, yet CARTER'S LITTLE LIVER rums aro equally valuable in Constipation, curing and preventing this annoying complaint. while they also correct all disorders of the stomach, stimulate the liver and regulate the bowels. Even if they only cured lsche they would be almost priceless to theta who suffer from this distressing ,complaint; 'alt fortunately their goodneae does not end hero, and those who once try them will find those little pills valuable in so mauv ways that they will not be willing to do without them. But after all sick head •3 the baro of so many 1lvcs that store ie where ve make our great boast. Our pills cure it •.chile others do not. CARTER'S LITTLE LIVER PILLS are very small ir1 very easy to take. Ono or two pills make dose. „They aro strictly vegetable and do rt gripe or purge, but by their gentle notion .*1nse all whoti$e thein. In vials at 25 cents; -r; for 31. Sold;everywhere,: or sent by mail 11 L4EDIOIliE CO., flow Tort. 5i QUICKLY YIELD TO MIENy