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HomeMy WebLinkAboutThe Exeter Times, 1895-2-14, Page 6A �9�, H E . E d+1 T ,SFA Bp TIMES ,rr WOMAN'S CHAPTER "Itlioms MAT x 0AV lays," As Clara .Arden anticipated, dinner was late that evening at River Lawn. It was nearly half past eight when Mr. and Mrs. Arden and Daisy met in the drawing -room. The nook was angry, and the butler had been waiting for nearly half an hour to announce dinner. "You are looking so pale and so tired, ,Ambrose," Mrs, Arden said, as they seated themselves in the light of the large central lamp, supplemented with clusters of wax Bandies, a light in which she could see the color and expression of his face better than in the ohastened lamp -light of the drawing - room, "I don't think I am any more tired than usual," he answered. "You know what your fashionable phyeioien said of me, You must not expect me to look particu- larly robust." He Bald that you were not to do much brain -work, Ambrose, and you have been doing nothing else since he saw you." " Old habits are not so easily put off as doctors begin to think. They tell the drunkard he must leave off brandy, and they tell the scholar he must live without books, with just the same admirable com- placency as if they were asking very little." " I'm afraid we oughtto leave Berkshire," pursued his wife, looking at him anxiously. "I am sure that you will be better away from your books." " I shall be ready to leave my books when my own book is finished. I am near- ing the end. When that is done I will go where you like." "It is not where I like, but where you like," she said sadly. " I am. happier here than anywhere else." "Then let us stay here—till the end of our lives. You know what Horace says, Daisy—a man may change his surroundings, but not hie mind." "No, no,I am not selfish enough to keep ou here," said Mrs. Arden, "when I se you dispirited and out of health. W e will go back to London ; we will go to Italy ; anywhere." There was a silence after this, Daisy being more thoughtful than usual, and not ffering any diversion by the girlish prattle ith which she usually brightened the eal,whether her heart was light or heavy. o word had yet been spoken of Cyril's bsence. The butler quietly removed the over laid for him, and the chair in which e was to have sat ; but nobody mentioned is name till nearly the end of the meal hen Clara said, rather nervously : " Cyril is dining out, 1 suppose ?" "Be has gone to London," Ambrose den answered, quietly. " He is not oming back to -night." Clare looked at him wonderingiy as he answered. Had Cyril told his father that tis engagement was at an end? She could tardly believe that her husband would have taken the blow so calmly. It was left for- ier, she thought to tell him of his dieap- oointment. Daisy slipped away to her own den as oon as she was free to leave the dining- oom,and Mrs. Arden entered thedrawing- :oom alone,and sat there waiting anxiously or her husband to rejoin her. He sat with hie head bent over the empty lessert-plate and the untouched glass of a�•et which the butler had filled He ea l w i ht rooding in the lamp -light for nearly half n hour ; and then, with a deep -drawn igh, he rose slowly, and went to the draw. ng -room, where his wife was sitting by an pen window, looking out at the moonlit eater, very sad, at heart. He went over to her and seated himself y her side. " Cyril is gone from us for good, Clara," e said. " I suppose you know that ?" " I know that all is over between him nd Daisy; but Ithoughtyou did not know. feared you would not be able to take the dew so quietly, knowing how pleased you vere at their engagement," "I was pleased because it was a link hat drew- me nearer to you. It was of ur union 1 thought, not theirs. Nothing an touch me, Clara, while I have you." "Did he tell you why he and Daisy had nade up their minds to part?" " Yes, he told ine his reasons." "And hers? You will blame my daughter for fickleness, I fear, Ambrose." "Blame her! blame Daisy 1 Your daugh- er—and my pupiL Why, she was the bond between us years ago, when 1 was but the stranger within your gates. My eve for your daughter is second only to my love for you." His wife took tip his hand and kissed it, m a rapture of grateful affection. "How good you are to us, Ambrose?" he said, softly. "Harsh words never fall rom your lips. If I could only see you appy, my heart would be full of content." "I am happy, Clara, happy in having won my heart's desire, What can a man ave in this world more than that—the one esire of his life, the boon for which he as waited and longed through yeare of atient, silent hope? If there is happiness port earth Ihaveattained it." "Poor Cyril 1". sighed Clara, after a ause of contemplative silence, which seem - in harmony with the stillness of the urnmor night and the beauty of the moon - landscape, garden and river, meadow nd woodland, and dark church tower. Poor Cyril 1" she repeated. "It seems SC sad for him to leave us, to go out into the orad as a wanderer ; and yet it would he mpossible for out old life to go on, now hat he has broken with Daisy.' "No, the old lifewould not be osaible. p to the past already. Did It belongspa y. id he tell Di where he was going ?" .r he said, He To Australia, t . consulted t you asto his destfnv.tfan no f h t doubt � "No • he told me he should go away ; ut he did not enter upon his plane. et Poor fello ! He was Very unhappy, I Y ar, "Ile did not confide his sorrows to me. e had. made up his mind; and it was not r me to try to change his resolution." His whole manner altered as he spoke of s son. There was a hardiness in his tone hatsurpriled and grieved his wife, who a mute before had done him homage as the most admirable of men. Hie manner in speaking of her daughter had expressed the utmost tenderness. The tone in which he spokeof his own son was stern almost to vindictiveness. Clara feared there had been a quarrel between father and son, and that Ambrose Arden had resented the canaelment of Daisy's engagement with au unjust wrath, • "You must not be angry with Cyril," she said, softly, "I fear that it is Daisy's fickleness that is the beginning and end of our disappointment. She owned as much tome, poor child,. She gave her promise too lightly, and repented almost as soon as it was given, although she had not the courage to confess her mistake." " Well we will say it is Daisy's fault, or that both are fickle, There are no hearts broken, I believe. Cyril goes out in the world, a stranger to us henceforward." Clara Arden fait weighed down by inex- pressible sadness as she sat looking out in- to the moonlit garden, that garden which ahe and her first lover had found a wilder- ness, and which he had made into a para- dise for her sake. It was her girlish ad. miration of that old garden by the river which made Robert Hatrell eager to posers the place. He had laid it at her feet, as it it were a bunch of roses, never counting the Dost of anything which pleased her. Had it been ten times as oostly a place he would have bought it for her. His image was with her tonight more vividly than it had been for a long time. It was as if he himself were at hand, in all the warmth and vigor of life, and that she had but to stretch out her arms to beckon him to her. And, oh, what a heartsickness of longing and regret she turned towards that idolized image 1 Face to face with the inexplicable gloom of Ambrose Arden's temper, she recalled her first husband's happy nature, his joyous outlook, and keen delight in life. With him her days seemed one perpetual holiday. If she ever com- plained it had been because that energetic temperament took life and its enjoyments at a faster pace than suited her own repose- ful temper. Bub how bright, how gay those days had been; how frank and open her ooinpanion'a faoe, how expansive his speech and manner ! le had never hidden a care from her. Were his thoughts light or heavy she shared them, and knew every desire of his heart. But in this man, this cherished friend of many years, she had discovered mysteries. He had griefs which he would not share with her. He was angry with his only son; they had parted within a few hours, per- haps for all this life; and he would tell her nothing of the cause of their parting, he invited no sympathy. He sat by her side in melancholy silence, and she felt the burden of unhappiness which she was not allowed to share. After this night an emotionless monotony marked Clara Arden's days in the house where her early married life had been so full of happiness, and where her one great sorrow, the sorrow of a life -time, had come upon her, The idea of going on the Conti- nent for the autumn was nct carried out. The scholar's book absorbed him wholly in the waning of the year, and he preferred the quiet of River Lawn to the glory of the Italian Lakes, or the art treasures of Flor- ence. He spent a good many hours of every day in his old cottage study, while his wife and her daughter lived very much as they had lived in Airs Hatrell'e widowhood. No one at River Lawn knew anything about Cyril's whereabouts, unless it was his father. He had left Lamford within a few hours of his interview with Daisy, taking with him only a single portmanteau, as Beatrice Reardon informed her friend, this young lady having a knack of meeting every fly that ever entered or departed from the village. " It's no use telling me you haven't quarreled," protested Beatrice, when Daisy denied any ill -feeling between Cyril and herself. " I saw the poor fellow's white face as he drove by, aoknowledging my bow in a most distracted manner, and I never saw such a change in any man. A few hours before he had been the gayest of us all on the tennis lawn, and now he looked positively like his own ghost. You must have had a dreadful row, Daisy." " We have had no row, as you pall it. We only agreed that it was better for us to part." "Poor Cyril 1 I had no idea he was so desperately in love with you. He used to take things so very easily," remarked Beatrice,with alithe freedom of friendship. " Of course I always suspected you of not caring a straw for him. You were not the least bit like an engaged girl. You didn't spoon him a little bit." Daisy shuddered. She was one of the few girls who are revolted by such forms of speech as prevail in some, girlish circles, Miss Reardon affected a fast and slangy manner as a kind of perpetual protest against the dullness and monotony of her life in a Berkshire village. She wanted everybody to understand that there was nothing rustic or pastoral about her mind or her manners. This was all that Daisy or her mother heard about Cyril's departure. He had gone to his chambers most likely, where he could prepare at his leisure for that long voyage of which he talked. The greater pare of his possessions, his books and guns, and sporting tackle of all kinds,were in the Albany. He had his own man to pack for him, and accompany him to a new world,if he was so minded. CHAPTER XXII. DAISY 8 DIARY. How peacefully the days have slipped by since poor Cyril went away 1 I find myself thinking of him and writing of him as "Poor Cyril!" which is really an impertin- ence, and 1 dare say by this time he is perfectly happy, and has fallen in love with some magnificent Australian girl, a higher order of being, like the Gy in the "Coming Race"—a powerfully built creature who can ride buck -jumpers,; and camp oub in the bush, without fear of consequences. I fear I have very narrow and insular ideas about Australia, which I can only picture to myself as one vast jungle tempered with conviot settlements.;, Cyril is happy no doubt by this time, sad ae he looked on that day of sudden parting; so 1 may allow myself to feel happy, with an easy conscience. thaeve left off puzzling myself with idle speculations about his motive. Whatever his reason may have been, I feel assured that it was very serious and entirely con- vincing to his own mind -that he obeyed what to him was a stern necessity. I can but be grateful to Providence that has released me from a bond that could ould not have brought teal happiness to eit her r. C it or me ; and, looking back now at the past, I feel how eowardly I was in not telling him the truth about my own feelings. It: was no coward. When the hour came in which he felt he ought to break with me, there as no orwavering w hesitation w ve ng en his aide ; and yet I bell . he loved me better in that parting hour than he had ever loved me in his life before. Poor Cyril --old friend and playfellow 1 I hope his Australian wife will be kind and true, and that his life iu that far world ;nay bo full of all good things: gold in monster nuggets, sheep in mighty flocks, horses that are not buck.jumpere, Woods of eucalyptus, groves of mimosa, birds of vivid pluntago, and the most per. feet thing in bungalows. I am really very sad about Uncle Am. brose. I think he fights against the gloom that. gathers round him as a strong man stricken in the prime of life by some inside bus malady might fight against disease ; and yet the gloom deepens. With him low spirits seem actually a disease ; and I tremble and turn sold sometimes at the thought ught that his depression may forebode some mental malady which inay darken all our days. My mother seldom, if ever, sees him as I see him when she is not present. When she is with him .I know thet he makes a stupendous effort to appear cheerful, to seem interested in the things she loves ; bub when she leaves him the mask drops, and I see him as he really is—a man weighed down by deep-rooted melancholy. I have talked to him of the books I used to read with hint, the low-spirited school of metaphysicians, and of Heine, who saw all things with the saddened oyesof a man whose life was like Pope's, a " long dis- ease." W'a have talked of theology, and I have discovered the hopelessness of his creed—that for him there is nothing be- yond this life of ours, this poor brief life, in whish there are so many chances of being miserable against a single chance of being happy. No, for him there is no beyond— for him the dead are verily dead. He told me that I must not talk of dark hours—that for me life was to be all sun- shine ; unshine; and then, for the first time, he spoke of his disappointment about Cyril and me —touching on the subject very lightly, and, indeed, not mentioning his son's name. • "A, little hint of your mother's has helped me to guess your secret, Daisy," he said, "and I love you too well to blame. your inconstancy. Your mother and I both think that Mr- Florestan had some- thing to do with the change in your senti- ments." "Something to do with my finding out the truth about my own heart," I said, and the nature of my mistake. I did not love Cyril less after I had seen Mr. Florestan, and found out somehow that he oared fur ine. But I knew all at once that my love for Cyril had never been the kind of love that would make me his happy wife. I found out that he could never be more to me than a dear and valued friend—never so much to me as you have been. He oould never be tbo first; and one's husband ought to be the first in one's heart and mind, ought he not, Uncle Ambrose, as mother's husband was?" I felt so eorry for my thoughtless words when I saw him wince at the mention of my father's name, It was ouch a heartless thing to say—as if he were. something less than a husband, as if he hardly counted in my mother's life. fI hung my head, deeply ashamed of myself, but feeling that any at- tempt to unsay what I had said would only make matters worse. There was an awkward silence, and then Uncle Ambrose went on gravely and quiet- ly, with infinite kindness : " I want my pupil and adopted daughter to be happy, even if she can not be bound any nearer to me by a new tie. Don't be afraid to trust me, Daisy. Remember I was your first friend—after your father and mother, and that you used to tell me all your thoughts and fancies. Try to be as frank to -day as you were in those happy hours when your doll used to sit in your lap and share your history lesson. You have some reason to believe that Mr. Florestan cares for you?" " He told me so one day," I faltered. "I was alone in the summer -house in the shrubbery, alone with my books, intending to spend a studious morning. Mr. Flores - tan found me there, and sat down and be- gan to talk tt me ; and before I knew what was coming he told me that he was very fond of me, and that he was sure I did not care quite so much as I ought to care for Cyril ; and he asked me to cancel my en- gagement and marry him. I was very angry, and I told him that he had no right to form any such opinion about my senti- ments, and that nothing would induce me to break my promise to Cyril." " Well, remember, Daisy, that I want to see you happily married to the man of your choice before I die. I want to be sure that I have done all for your happiness that your own father could have done had he lived to bless you on your wedding -day." The deep, grave tones of his voice, the solemn expression of his eyes as he turned them upon me, made my heart thrill with love and reverence. Yes, he is a good man, a man in whose character I have never die - covered fault or flaw. " You are not going to leave us for many a year to come," I said. " Indeed, indeed, there is no reason that my mar- riage should be hurried on." " Yes, Daily, there is need. I want to see you happy. I want, when I lie down on my bed for the last time and turn my face to the wall, to be able to say to my- self, 'At least my little friend Daisy is happy. •- I have been her friend from the hour she learnt to read at my knees until the hour I gave her to the husband of her choice, No father upon this earth could have been more careful of his daughter's happiness than I have been of hers.' Per- haps in the last hours, when mind and senses grow dim, I may forget that my little pupil ever grew up to womanhood ; I may think of you as a child etill, flitting about the garden with streaming hair. I may see you thus in the dim past, and not recognize the real Daisy when, she stands beside my bed and looks at me with pity- ing eyes." These sad forebodings made me cry; and I kissed Uncle Ambrose and tried to com- fort him, and felt as fond of him as I used to when a child. I fear that his own fore- bodings may be too surely realized, and that he will never see the quiet, long -spun out days of a good old age. This thought made me very melancholy after this seri- ous interview; yet it was a great relief to find that be did not disapprove of Mr. Florestan as a lover for me. Who knows? Mr. Florestan may be as fickle as the in- constant moon; and all thab impulsive nonsense of hie in the arbor may be utter- ly forgotten on his part, though I remem- ber every Y 1 s 1 ablehe i I wonder what s doing gin Scotland, I think n he ought to have shot everything sbootable in Argyle ;shire by tide time. Y lis (TO n111 CoNTIN D v>s . ) A Negleeted d maned. Smythe" I intend Harry for the bar ; wouldouadvise hisbe beginning g g o n each old works as Coke and 131aaketone ?" Tompkins*" No ; 1 would begin by grounding hint even further book," Smythe—"Indeed 1 In what?" 'Tomkiss-"The Ten m e - n p Commandmenta. Children Cry tor Pitcher' Caetarlal THE FIELD OF CO11111. EICE1 Some Items of Interest to the Man of Business. The amount of money subseribed is Great Britain to new loans or new coin panies last year, exclusive of vendors' shares, was £91,834,000, which is almost double the 449,141,000• similarly cubsorib,. ad in 1893. The total. for 1892 was £81,- 137,000, for 1891 it was £104,595,000, and in 1890 it was £142,565,000. A decided increase in orders for refined grades of sugar occurred last week in New York, and a few dealers fared very well. But the improvement in volume of trans- actions was not sufficient to include all grades, and consequently no advance in list prices is recorded. Holders or raw sugar declined to part with goods at form- er quotations, and the small trading that was done resulted in an advance of a six- teenth for Muscovado and centrifugal trades. Delay in the movement of German sugar by gold weather caused a better tone in foreign markets also. An increased demand for coffee is report- ed in Naw York, and first-class grades are especially saleable. Little news is heard from abroad, except a new crop estimate of 0,250,000 bags for Rio, and 5,500,000 for Santos. Short traders are becoming uneasy and cover their contracts at every opportunity. This has started up a larger volume of option trading, March and May being the active months. Since theyear opened the American visible has decreased nearly 50,000 haus, and at present the comparmson with the stook a year ago shows a decrease of about 20,000 bags. In spite of the poor coal weather, the anthracite companies are not enforcing any genuine restriction of production. The past week they have mined 98,000 tons more coal than in the same week of last year, and it is reported that coal can be purohased f. o. b. in New York harbor at $3.25 per ton for grate, $3.30 for egg, $3.50 for stove, and $3.40 for chestnut. The comtnitte appointed to devise a plan for restoring harmony in the trade has been unable to accomplish anything yet. Some companies demand that tonnage shall be allotted on the basis of business done in the past, others on the basis of the carrying capacity of the railroads, and still others on the basis of the acreage of coal land owned. No attempt is made to disguise the fact that the condition of the trade is critical, The field of long-distance electric rail- roads shows itself very attractive to invention and capital. To show what is being done, at this moment only a few links are wanting in a complete network between New York and Philadelphia, a distance of nearly 100 miles. These lines are actually being constructed, and when they are finished both passengers and freight can be carried between the two centres by elec- tricity, over roads which represent a vastly less investment than steam roads, and whose cars can run independently every minute of the day, unhampered by schedules. It is needless to say that while such a network is useless for purposes of swift travel, it must very soon absorb a very large amount of minor and what may he called reticular traffic. A vital point is the great quick- ness in travel in the electricity system. The trolley cars will pick up a man at any point, drop him at his exact place, and charge him only ten or fifteen cents, where the steam road has been collecting forty or fifty cents. Furthermore in the matter of speed, the electric oars can can give a good accounting, as they are equal in moat cases to a speed of twenty- five or thirty miles an hour outside of the city limits, a rate which the ordinary steam roads rarely equal and seldom pass. The wholesale trade of Toronto last week was quiet. The heavy snow storm seriously interfered with the movement, traffic in some directions being almost stopped. Travelers were unable to get about, and few country merchants have• visited the city. There are few changes in price. Owing to higher prices of raisins and curranta in primary markets, local dealers are enable to get a little more for these goods, but sales are restricted. Some large transactions in Canadian fleece wool are reported on United States account and shipments of about a million pounds are being made. This will pretty well clean up stocks in Ontario, and the con- sequence is that prices here are higher at 18ic, to 19c. The wheat market has ruled dull owing to limited offerings, but prices have not sympathized to any extent with the lower markets in Britain and the United States. - . Uncertainty with regard to the financial outlook in the States is causing some distrust on the part of Canadian investors. Several of our banks are offering New York drafts at a discount of one -eight; which will result in gold importations. Can- adian banks have over $25,000,000 due them by agencies in the United States, and a portion of this will likely be withdrawn unless some action is taken immediately by Cougress that will tend to restore eon- fidence on the part of foreign lenders. Gilt- edged seeurites show a tendecy to decline, the movement being accelerated by • the rumor of proposed issue of new bonds by the United States. British Consols are off full 1 per cent. as compared with the pride of a week ago. The Onion. Don't stink up your nose at an onion. If the following from an exohange 18 true, the onion should be in good odor with the public : " A phYeieian was seen buying a barrel of onions and being guyed about his purchase, said ' I always have boiled On- ions for dinner for the benefit of my child- ren. I like onions, too. They are the best medicine I know of foreventin r colds. p g Feed onions raw, boiled or baked to the Children three or four times a week and they grow will healthY ren and t tl s , No worms, no scarlatina, no diphtheria where children eat plenty of onions every day.' Another distinguishedhed physioian confirmed the foregoing n statement, adding: C0 1 n t give better advice nu matter w ho hard I may try.' " Donri Rochefort,who was, banished from France alone with Gen. Boulanger, has •recur ed to ble owny n f country having been made frog by the amnesty bill, for Infants and ehiidreant Caetoiri wren a so etitadat tot>?til thab is w pted I recommend itas superior to any prescription known to roe." EL A, ARanau, ILL D., 111 So. Oxford St,, Brooklyn, N.Y. "':1ho use of ' Castorla' is so universal and its merits so well known that it seems a work of supererogation to endorse it. Few are the iutefilgont families Who do not keep Castoria within easy reach." CARLOS l,LanTYN, D. D„ N w -Work City. Late Pastor Bloomingdale Reformed Church, �'t ria omen Co in%Constipation�, Sour �tqmach'glatTaea Eruotatlo n SillsWorms, Wee sleep, and promotes di gg4nWithoutijurious medication. " For several yeare T have recommended your Castoria, and'eliall always continue to. do so 4311 bee invariably produced beneficial results." EDWIN 0'. PABninta, Id, D., "The Winthrop," Meth Street and 7th Ave,,, ew York ttitf 'rm. CENTAUR COimmAtmY, 77 Ii:LUnaLY ,$THEM, NEW YOBS. :.:�•g;, tr"�a ,,.. _.• `�.::� .at..�rl _..?1t. OUR..__ t.. 4) d�UNACCOUNTABLY LOSING FLEECE! REFUSING TO TAKE 115 FOOD LISTLESS AND DEBILITATyt°ED 4WHYDO�rA YOUTRYlEZIE �QLas�."• I0O• . . -' IT WILL HELP WONDERI'ULLV • WHAT WOULD 00? JUST SPEND HIS FOUR QUARTERS FOR A BOTTLE 014 BURDOCK BLOOD BITTERS AS ALL SENSIBLE PEOPLE DO ; BECAUSE IT CURES DYSPEPSIA, GONSTIPATION, BII.2IOUSNESS,@BAD BLOOD, AND AI0I9 DISEASES OP THE STOMACH, LIVER, KIDNEYS AND BOWELS. Severe Pain in Shoulder 2 Yarn Cured by The D.&1431enthol Plaster. My wife was afflicted for two years with a severe pain under the left shoulder and through 10 the bran; after using many remedies without relief, she tried a "D.& L." Menthol Plaster, it did its work. and owing to this cure hundreds of these plasters have been told by me here, giving equal satisfaction. J. H. SUTHERLAND Druggist, River John, N.S. Sold Everywhere, 25‘. each. TERRIBLE SUFFERING IN WISCON- SIN. Settlers In the Town of Dansk Destitute of Food and Clothing. A despatch from Grantsburg, W is.,says:— Reports still continue to come in from the town of Rusk, and each time adds to the tale of terrible sufferings and starvation among the settlers there. The country. is just opened up and many of the settlers are recent arrivals. The greater number of them came from the southern part of .the" state and Pierce County, and were nearly starved out when they arrived at Rusk. The few morsels they had would not have filled a dry gc ode box. Those who arrived last spring cut away the woods and opened a small clearing and tried to raise a few vegetables to live on, after having put up rough log houses and chinked up the sides to live in. Had they succeeded in raising any- thing matters might have been different and their sufferings reduced to a certain de. gree as tar as hunger was concerned, but crops were au absolute failure. And then came the terrible forest fire, sweeping every- thing in its path. Many farmers lost the little hay they bad gathered from the scat- tering marshes, and in several instances houees,barns and their all were swept away The towns of Shell Lake and Cumberland assisted them some time last fall. The local charity fund and town funds are ex- hausted and now the county relief committee is asked to aid. Governor Upham has been requested to give immediate relief, They have almost nothing to eat and. very little to wear. One-fifth of the inhabitants are without proper food and many have not a pound of flour in the house. The relief committee held a meeting here on Saturday, after having given notice to those in need of aid. Their tales of want and woe were taken under oath and were terrible in the extreme, It is a pitiful sight to see how thinly these people aro clad, when the thermometer is registering 20 to 30 below zero. Story of Van Moltli;e. Ilia great delight was gardening, and for houre, together he was to be seen in an old straw hat and a gardener's Holland suit handling the pruning knife or the garden- t avis ors. Oneo when on a v's' ors s viSit to his s brother-in-law, Major von Burt, at Blase. . wits, near Dresden, the news had got about that the great strategist was staving g thorn. A stranger, seeing one Who seemed to be an old gardener in the grounds, asked him when would be the hest chance of Ceding Molt)re g " "Oh, l said the gardener, "about 3 o'clock." Whereupon the stranger gratefully gave his informant a mark. What was his stir. prise when on returning in the afternoon, he saw the Field Marshal—the old garden- er of the forenoon --surrounded by his friends, Moltke held up his hand: "4h 1 1 have got your mark." CANADA AND FRANCE. The New Commercial Treaty—England Sets an Important Precedent. A despatch from London says:—The oomineroial treaty between Great Britain and France relating to the interchange of trade between Canada and the Republic whioh will soon go into effect, is the first agreement entered into by England and another European country dealing ex- clusively with the trade of one of the colonies. The precedent is an important one, since all the larger colonies of Great Britain are seeking new markets for their surplus produce, and the only method for effecting that result is to make reciprocal arrangements with other countries. It really forms a part of the important question that is looming up on account of the rapid growth and development of the colonies, and which will embrace not only their commercial relations with the Mother Country, but with other countries. The new treaty is expected to lead to consider able development of trade, although the success of the arrangement depends largely upon the establishment of direct steam communication between Canada and Franca. which i ,!ready under consideration. Concise. Dude—" What are yon gazing at, you. little rascal ? If you have anything to say say it,". Negro boy—" When I sees nuran'1 says uufiin'." A Labor Saver. Mrs, Minks—" Have you filled'the patio lamp ?'' ,. "lin need fillip', Domestic--• I guess it don't 1 9 ma'am." pearl "Thm Ye patdnrllorht wr,as iii use last evening until g Yes ma'am ' but your daughter's v nun g' man was the only caller." Vet;r Sim11e. Site cousin J —" Love is a alma d � t' YC y) l3 co mpoattd. Ho—" It isn't iao0mpo.tud ; it's a slmpl -very simple." { 1` 6HC 11E4 F 4 ., is ea R �i�r i rldQ61+1 MI 11 141ures Uansumptlon. 'fihroat, Sold FPer louteLeine yillSi9 give SHI OH'S iifrs, T. B. Rawkins, "Shiioh's p'ifaZixer t,o�onsid4rittheb .I ever used," txotibleitexcels. �p yy�q Iii NiIl6 Coughs, Group, Soru. by all Dru Gists on a Guarantee, Beat �tior sfaCtion,hiloh% Por 95 yentasou�. VIT LIZEIL Obattanootra, Tenn., grit °S 'FED ap." ,i..IIM. troMilyforadeMlitatedaysiem For Dyspepsia, Live,: Or Nedney^ Price 75 ots, ggggq��uu .�-�s a ,'•b@v�S163f( k gg��,, a�t��gg�'^��jjIy VI p� R C D It wilt you. Price CO eta. treatment sarisacttio ith' ;Y > k'`s klaveyouCatarrh? TrytbisItemedy. positively relieve and Cure This, Injector for its successful a>eg,,,,,gtrreoiva£ianteeeer'; LEGAL. LH. DICKSON, Barrister, Soli. e titer of Supreme Court, Notary Public, Conveyancer, Commissioner, d;o Mousy to Loom. Ofticein anson'sSlook, Eceter, H. COLLINS, Barrister, Solicitor, Conveyancer, Etc, P.iNETER, - ONT. OFFICE : Over O'Neii's Bank. FLLIOT & ELLIOT, Barristers, Solicitors, Notaries Public, . Conveyancers &rc, &c. ta'•iltoney to Loan at Lowest Rates of interest. OFFICE, - MAIN - STREET. EXETER. B, T. N:I,LroT. FREDiiRICIi EL,LIOT. ,Cane 'eaten NIFIDICAL TW. BaowNING M. D., M. C E • P. S, Graduate Victoria Univers. ty; titles and residence, Dominion Litho a tory .Eseter , D T R. HYNDMAN, coroner for t.le County of Huron. Office, oppsite Carling Bros. storo,Exeter. I1S. ROLLL NS St AMOS. Separate Offices. Residence same as former. ly. Androw st. O 1koe: Spackee-tains building. Main et; Dr Rollins' swine as formerly, north door; Dr. Amon-" same building, south door, 7. A. ROLLINS, M. D., T. A. ABIOS, M. Exeter, Ont AUCTIONEERS. T HARDY, LICENSED AUC— " la tieneer for the Connty of lluron. Charges moderate. Exeter P, 0. t l 1 pit BOSSENBERRY, General Li - kJ BOSSENBERRY, 9. tensed Auctioneer Sales oeuducted in allparts. Satisfaction guaranteed. Charges Moderate. Hensall P 0, Ont. FaNRY EILBER Licensed Auc. tioneer for the Counties of Huron and Middlesex • Sales conducted at mod- erate re -tee, Onlee, at Post -office Cred. ton Out. AIONEYTO LOAN. ONEY TO LOAN AT 6 AND percent, $25,000 Private founds. Beet Loaning Companies represented. L. EC. DICKSON, Barrister. Exeter. 1 SURVEYING, 1 I FRED W. FARNOOMB, Provincial Laud Surveyor, anti Civil r MMSG•IN EI EI R- MITC,. : Office, Upstairs, Semesters Bleak, Exeter.Ont f VETERINARY. i Tr( feGrednatesofthe OFFICE : One TER, ONT. ,.sw� Veterinary 0)1 Hall, 1mennent&Tennent e e 4 1 1: 4 t c c r t 1 Ontario door South ofTOwn rilHE WATERLOO MUTUAL FIRE INSURANCECO . Established in 1363. HEAD OFFICE - WATERLOO, ONT. This Company has been over 'Pwenty-ei;h years in successful operation in Western Ontario, and continues to insure against loss or dams a by MerchandiseFire, Buildings, Merchandise Manufactories and all other deseriptioas of insurable property. Intending insurers have the option of insuring on the Preadiam Note or Cash System. During thep�iast ten years this company has iesued57,096 Policies, covering property to the amount of $40,8872.038: and paid in losses alone .assets, ert16,100.00, consisting of Cash MBank Government Depositand the unasses- LeTod Premium Notes on hand and in force WWaimes, M.D., President; 0 M. TAYroa becretary ; J. B. anoints, Inspector . CIIgy SNELL, Agent foe Exeter and vieinity "� i POWDERS pure B4O14 HEADACHE n 20 M;niurrs, also Coated nets, Biliousness, Pain in the Side, Terpid Liver, Bad Breath. to regulate the bowels, VER' taller,' FRIt719 ATST032s. I.; sat, and Neuralgia Tongue, Diem- Constipation, stay cured also i 'T0' rAd1E. f h h d h p e 6 11 a „. W t I D w b fe it fo hi .t rn FOR TWENTY-FIVE YEARS sDALIPkilitliNN5Sc 0 wor,R, D OK ST rND D R LARGEST SALE IN CANADA. o h . painter, re OM rat for was rani Sd r g p 9 en ,er. l� v` A �9�, H E . E d+1 T ,SFA Bp TIMES ,rr WOMAN'S CHAPTER "Itlioms MAT x 0AV lays," As Clara .Arden anticipated, dinner was late that evening at River Lawn. It was nearly half past eight when Mr. and Mrs. Arden and Daisy met in the drawing -room. The nook was angry, and the butler had been waiting for nearly half an hour to announce dinner. "You are looking so pale and so tired, ,Ambrose," Mrs, Arden said, as they seated themselves in the light of the large central lamp, supplemented with clusters of wax Bandies, a light in which she could see the color and expression of his face better than in the ohastened lamp -light of the drawing - room, "I don't think I am any more tired than usual," he answered. "You know what your fashionable phyeioien said of me, You must not expect me to look particu- larly robust." He Bald that you were not to do much brain -work, Ambrose, and you have been doing nothing else since he saw you." " Old habits are not so easily put off as doctors begin to think. They tell the drunkard he must leave off brandy, and they tell the scholar he must live without books, with just the same admirable com- placency as if they were asking very little." " I'm afraid we oughtto leave Berkshire," pursued his wife, looking at him anxiously. "I am sure that you will be better away from your books." " I shall be ready to leave my books when my own book is finished. I am near- ing the end. When that is done I will go where you like." "It is not where I like, but where you like," she said sadly. " I am. happier here than anywhere else." "Then let us stay here—till the end of our lives. You know what Horace says, Daisy—a man may change his surroundings, but not hie mind." "No, no,I am not selfish enough to keep ou here," said Mrs. Arden, "when I se you dispirited and out of health. W e will go back to London ; we will go to Italy ; anywhere." There was a silence after this, Daisy being more thoughtful than usual, and not ffering any diversion by the girlish prattle ith which she usually brightened the eal,whether her heart was light or heavy. o word had yet been spoken of Cyril's bsence. The butler quietly removed the over laid for him, and the chair in which e was to have sat ; but nobody mentioned is name till nearly the end of the meal hen Clara said, rather nervously : " Cyril is dining out, 1 suppose ?" "Be has gone to London," Ambrose den answered, quietly. " He is not oming back to -night." Clare looked at him wonderingiy as he answered. Had Cyril told his father that tis engagement was at an end? She could tardly believe that her husband would have taken the blow so calmly. It was left for- ier, she thought to tell him of his dieap- oointment. Daisy slipped away to her own den as oon as she was free to leave the dining- oom,and Mrs. Arden entered thedrawing- :oom alone,and sat there waiting anxiously or her husband to rejoin her. He sat with hie head bent over the empty lessert-plate and the untouched glass of a�•et which the butler had filled He ea l w i ht rooding in the lamp -light for nearly half n hour ; and then, with a deep -drawn igh, he rose slowly, and went to the draw. ng -room, where his wife was sitting by an pen window, looking out at the moonlit eater, very sad, at heart. He went over to her and seated himself y her side. " Cyril is gone from us for good, Clara," e said. " I suppose you know that ?" " I know that all is over between him nd Daisy; but Ithoughtyou did not know. feared you would not be able to take the dew so quietly, knowing how pleased you vere at their engagement," "I was pleased because it was a link hat drew- me nearer to you. It was of ur union 1 thought, not theirs. Nothing an touch me, Clara, while I have you." "Did he tell you why he and Daisy had nade up their minds to part?" " Yes, he told ine his reasons." "And hers? You will blame my daughter for fickleness, I fear, Ambrose." "Blame her! blame Daisy 1 Your daugh- er—and my pupiL Why, she was the bond between us years ago, when 1 was but the stranger within your gates. My eve for your daughter is second only to my love for you." His wife took tip his hand and kissed it, m a rapture of grateful affection. "How good you are to us, Ambrose?" he said, softly. "Harsh words never fall rom your lips. If I could only see you appy, my heart would be full of content." "I am happy, Clara, happy in having won my heart's desire, What can a man ave in this world more than that—the one esire of his life, the boon for which he as waited and longed through yeare of atient, silent hope? If there is happiness port earth Ihaveattained it." "Poor Cyril 1". sighed Clara, after a ause of contemplative silence, which seem - in harmony with the stillness of the urnmor night and the beauty of the moon - landscape, garden and river, meadow nd woodland, and dark church tower. Poor Cyril 1" she repeated. "It seems SC sad for him to leave us, to go out into the orad as a wanderer ; and yet it would he mpossible for out old life to go on, now hat he has broken with Daisy.' "No, the old lifewould not be osaible. p to the past already. Did It belongspa y. id he tell Di where he was going ?" .r he said, He To Australia, t . consulted t you asto his destfnv.tfan no f h t doubt � "No • he told me he should go away ; ut he did not enter upon his plane. et Poor fello ! He was Very unhappy, I Y ar, "Ile did not confide his sorrows to me. e had. made up his mind; and it was not r me to try to change his resolution." His whole manner altered as he spoke of s son. There was a hardiness in his tone hatsurpriled and grieved his wife, who a mute before had done him homage as the most admirable of men. Hie manner in speaking of her daughter had expressed the utmost tenderness. The tone in which he spokeof his own son was stern almost to vindictiveness. Clara feared there had been a quarrel between father and son, and that Ambrose Arden had resented the canaelment of Daisy's engagement with au unjust wrath, • "You must not be angry with Cyril," she said, softly, "I fear that it is Daisy's fickleness that is the beginning and end of our disappointment. She owned as much tome, poor child,. She gave her promise too lightly, and repented almost as soon as it was given, although she had not the courage to confess her mistake." " Well we will say it is Daisy's fault, or that both are fickle, There are no hearts broken, I believe. Cyril goes out in the world, a stranger to us henceforward." Clara Arden fait weighed down by inex- pressible sadness as she sat looking out in- to the moonlit garden, that garden which ahe and her first lover had found a wilder- ness, and which he had made into a para- dise for her sake. It was her girlish ad. miration of that old garden by the river which made Robert Hatrell eager to posers the place. He had laid it at her feet, as it it were a bunch of roses, never counting the Dost of anything which pleased her. Had it been ten times as oostly a place he would have bought it for her. His image was with her tonight more vividly than it had been for a long time. It was as if he himself were at hand, in all the warmth and vigor of life, and that she had but to stretch out her arms to beckon him to her. And, oh, what a heartsickness of longing and regret she turned towards that idolized image 1 Face to face with the inexplicable gloom of Ambrose Arden's temper, she recalled her first husband's happy nature, his joyous outlook, and keen delight in life. With him her days seemed one perpetual holiday. If she ever com- plained it had been because that energetic temperament took life and its enjoyments at a faster pace than suited her own repose- ful temper. Bub how bright, how gay those days had been; how frank and open her ooinpanion'a faoe, how expansive his speech and manner ! le had never hidden a care from her. Were his thoughts light or heavy she shared them, and knew every desire of his heart. But in this man, this cherished friend of many years, she had discovered mysteries. He had griefs which he would not share with her. He was angry with his only son; they had parted within a few hours, per- haps for all this life; and he would tell her nothing of the cause of their parting, he invited no sympathy. He sat by her side in melancholy silence, and she felt the burden of unhappiness which she was not allowed to share. After this night an emotionless monotony marked Clara Arden's days in the house where her early married life had been so full of happiness, and where her one great sorrow, the sorrow of a life -time, had come upon her, The idea of going on the Conti- nent for the autumn was nct carried out. The scholar's book absorbed him wholly in the waning of the year, and he preferred the quiet of River Lawn to the glory of the Italian Lakes, or the art treasures of Flor- ence. He spent a good many hours of every day in his old cottage study, while his wife and her daughter lived very much as they had lived in Airs Hatrell'e widowhood. No one at River Lawn knew anything about Cyril's whereabouts, unless it was his father. He had left Lamford within a few hours of his interview with Daisy, taking with him only a single portmanteau, as Beatrice Reardon informed her friend, this young lady having a knack of meeting every fly that ever entered or departed from the village. " It's no use telling me you haven't quarreled," protested Beatrice, when Daisy denied any ill -feeling between Cyril and herself. " I saw the poor fellow's white face as he drove by, aoknowledging my bow in a most distracted manner, and I never saw such a change in any man. A few hours before he had been the gayest of us all on the tennis lawn, and now he looked positively like his own ghost. You must have had a dreadful row, Daisy." " We have had no row, as you pall it. We only agreed that it was better for us to part." "Poor Cyril 1 I had no idea he was so desperately in love with you. He used to take things so very easily," remarked Beatrice,with alithe freedom of friendship. " Of course I always suspected you of not caring a straw for him. You were not the least bit like an engaged girl. You didn't spoon him a little bit." Daisy shuddered. She was one of the few girls who are revolted by such forms of speech as prevail in some, girlish circles, Miss Reardon affected a fast and slangy manner as a kind of perpetual protest against the dullness and monotony of her life in a Berkshire village. She wanted everybody to understand that there was nothing rustic or pastoral about her mind or her manners. This was all that Daisy or her mother heard about Cyril's departure. He had gone to his chambers most likely, where he could prepare at his leisure for that long voyage of which he talked. The greater pare of his possessions, his books and guns, and sporting tackle of all kinds,were in the Albany. He had his own man to pack for him, and accompany him to a new world,if he was so minded. CHAPTER XXII. DAISY 8 DIARY. How peacefully the days have slipped by since poor Cyril went away 1 I find myself thinking of him and writing of him as "Poor Cyril!" which is really an impertin- ence, and 1 dare say by this time he is perfectly happy, and has fallen in love with some magnificent Australian girl, a higher order of being, like the Gy in the "Coming Race"—a powerfully built creature who can ride buck -jumpers,; and camp oub in the bush, without fear of consequences. I fear I have very narrow and insular ideas about Australia, which I can only picture to myself as one vast jungle tempered with conviot settlements.;, Cyril is happy no doubt by this time, sad ae he looked on that day of sudden parting; so 1 may allow myself to feel happy, with an easy conscience. thaeve left off puzzling myself with idle speculations about his motive. Whatever his reason may have been, I feel assured that it was very serious and entirely con- vincing to his own mind -that he obeyed what to him was a stern necessity. I can but be grateful to Providence that has released me from a bond that could ould not have brought teal happiness to eit her r. C it or me ; and, looking back now at the past, I feel how eowardly I was in not telling him the truth about my own feelings. It: was no coward. When the hour came in which he felt he ought to break with me, there as no orwavering w hesitation w ve ng en his aide ; and yet I bell . he loved me better in that parting hour than he had ever loved me in his life before. Poor Cyril --old friend and playfellow 1 I hope his Australian wife will be kind and true, and that his life iu that far world ;nay bo full of all good things: gold in monster nuggets, sheep in mighty flocks, horses that are not buck.jumpere, Woods of eucalyptus, groves of mimosa, birds of vivid pluntago, and the most per. feet thing in bungalows. I am really very sad about Uncle Am. brose. I think he fights against the gloom that. gathers round him as a strong man stricken in the prime of life by some inside bus malady might fight against disease ; and yet the gloom deepens. With him low spirits seem actually a disease ; and I tremble and turn sold sometimes at the thought ught that his depression may forebode some mental malady which inay darken all our days. My mother seldom, if ever, sees him as I see him when she is not present. When she is with him .I know thet he makes a stupendous effort to appear cheerful, to seem interested in the things she loves ; bub when she leaves him the mask drops, and I see him as he really is—a man weighed down by deep-rooted melancholy. I have talked to him of the books I used to read with hint, the low-spirited school of metaphysicians, and of Heine, who saw all things with the saddened oyesof a man whose life was like Pope's, a " long dis- ease." W'a have talked of theology, and I have discovered the hopelessness of his creed—that for him there is nothing be- yond this life of ours, this poor brief life, in whish there are so many chances of being miserable against a single chance of being happy. No, for him there is no beyond— for him the dead are verily dead. He told me that I must not talk of dark hours—that for me life was to be all sun- shine ; unshine; and then, for the first time, he spoke of his disappointment about Cyril and me —touching on the subject very lightly, and, indeed, not mentioning his son's name. • "A, little hint of your mother's has helped me to guess your secret, Daisy," he said, "and I love you too well to blame. your inconstancy. Your mother and I both think that Mr- Florestan had some- thing to do with the change in your senti- ments." "Something to do with my finding out the truth about my own heart," I said, and the nature of my mistake. I did not love Cyril less after I had seen Mr. Florestan, and found out somehow that he oared fur ine. But I knew all at once that my love for Cyril had never been the kind of love that would make me his happy wife. I found out that he could never be more to me than a dear and valued friend—never so much to me as you have been. He oould never be tbo first; and one's husband ought to be the first in one's heart and mind, ought he not, Uncle Ambrose, as mother's husband was?" I felt so eorry for my thoughtless words when I saw him wince at the mention of my father's name, It was ouch a heartless thing to say—as if he were. something less than a husband, as if he hardly counted in my mother's life. fI hung my head, deeply ashamed of myself, but feeling that any at- tempt to unsay what I had said would only make matters worse. There was an awkward silence, and then Uncle Ambrose went on gravely and quiet- ly, with infinite kindness : " I want my pupil and adopted daughter to be happy, even if she can not be bound any nearer to me by a new tie. Don't be afraid to trust me, Daisy. Remember I was your first friend—after your father and mother, and that you used to tell me all your thoughts and fancies. Try to be as frank to -day as you were in those happy hours when your doll used to sit in your lap and share your history lesson. You have some reason to believe that Mr. Florestan cares for you?" " He told me so one day," I faltered. "I was alone in the summer -house in the shrubbery, alone with my books, intending to spend a studious morning. Mr. Flores - tan found me there, and sat down and be- gan to talk tt me ; and before I knew what was coming he told me that he was very fond of me, and that he was sure I did not care quite so much as I ought to care for Cyril ; and he asked me to cancel my en- gagement and marry him. I was very angry, and I told him that he had no right to form any such opinion about my senti- ments, and that nothing would induce me to break my promise to Cyril." " Well, remember, Daisy, that I want to see you happily married to the man of your choice before I die. I want to be sure that I have done all for your happiness that your own father could have done had he lived to bless you on your wedding -day." The deep, grave tones of his voice, the solemn expression of his eyes as he turned them upon me, made my heart thrill with love and reverence. Yes, he is a good man, a man in whose character I have never die - covered fault or flaw. " You are not going to leave us for many a year to come," I said. " Indeed, indeed, there is no reason that my mar- riage should be hurried on." " Yes, Daily, there is need. I want to see you happy. I want, when I lie down on my bed for the last time and turn my face to the wall, to be able to say to my- self, 'At least my little friend Daisy is happy. •- I have been her friend from the hour she learnt to read at my knees until the hour I gave her to the husband of her choice, No father upon this earth could have been more careful of his daughter's happiness than I have been of hers.' Per- haps in the last hours, when mind and senses grow dim, I may forget that my little pupil ever grew up to womanhood ; I may think of you as a child etill, flitting about the garden with streaming hair. I may see you thus in the dim past, and not recognize the real Daisy when, she stands beside my bed and looks at me with pity- ing eyes." These sad forebodings made me cry; and I kissed Uncle Ambrose and tried to com- fort him, and felt as fond of him as I used to when a child. I fear that his own fore- bodings may be too surely realized, and that he will never see the quiet, long -spun out days of a good old age. This thought made me very melancholy after this seri- ous interview; yet it was a great relief to find that be did not disapprove of Mr. Florestan as a lover for me. Who knows? Mr. Florestan may be as fickle as the in- constant moon; and all thab impulsive nonsense of hie in the arbor may be utter- ly forgotten on his part, though I remem- ber every Y 1 s 1 ablehe i I wonder what s doing gin Scotland, I think n he ought to have shot everything sbootable in Argyle ;shire by tide time. Y lis (TO n111 CoNTIN D v>s . ) A Negleeted d maned. Smythe" I intend Harry for the bar ; wouldouadvise hisbe beginning g g o n each old works as Coke and 131aaketone ?" Tompkins*" No ; 1 would begin by grounding hint even further book," Smythe—"Indeed 1 In what?" 'Tomkiss-"The Ten m e - n p Commandmenta. Children Cry tor Pitcher' Caetarlal THE FIELD OF CO11111. EICE1 Some Items of Interest to the Man of Business. The amount of money subseribed is Great Britain to new loans or new coin panies last year, exclusive of vendors' shares, was £91,834,000, which is almost double the 449,141,000• similarly cubsorib,. ad in 1893. The total. for 1892 was £81,- 137,000, for 1891 it was £104,595,000, and in 1890 it was £142,565,000. A decided increase in orders for refined grades of sugar occurred last week in New York, and a few dealers fared very well. But the improvement in volume of trans- actions was not sufficient to include all grades, and consequently no advance in list prices is recorded. Holders or raw sugar declined to part with goods at form- er quotations, and the small trading that was done resulted in an advance of a six- teenth for Muscovado and centrifugal trades. Delay in the movement of German sugar by gold weather caused a better tone in foreign markets also. An increased demand for coffee is report- ed in Naw York, and first-class grades are especially saleable. Little news is heard from abroad, except a new crop estimate of 0,250,000 bags for Rio, and 5,500,000 for Santos. Short traders are becoming uneasy and cover their contracts at every opportunity. This has started up a larger volume of option trading, March and May being the active months. Since theyear opened the American visible has decreased nearly 50,000 haus, and at present the comparmson with the stook a year ago shows a decrease of about 20,000 bags. In spite of the poor coal weather, the anthracite companies are not enforcing any genuine restriction of production. The past week they have mined 98,000 tons more coal than in the same week of last year, and it is reported that coal can be purohased f. o. b. in New York harbor at $3.25 per ton for grate, $3.30 for egg, $3.50 for stove, and $3.40 for chestnut. The comtnitte appointed to devise a plan for restoring harmony in the trade has been unable to accomplish anything yet. Some companies demand that tonnage shall be allotted on the basis of business done in the past, others on the basis of the carrying capacity of the railroads, and still others on the basis of the acreage of coal land owned. No attempt is made to disguise the fact that the condition of the trade is critical, The field of long-distance electric rail- roads shows itself very attractive to invention and capital. To show what is being done, at this moment only a few links are wanting in a complete network between New York and Philadelphia, a distance of nearly 100 miles. These lines are actually being constructed, and when they are finished both passengers and freight can be carried between the two centres by elec- tricity, over roads which represent a vastly less investment than steam roads, and whose cars can run independently every minute of the day, unhampered by schedules. It is needless to say that while such a network is useless for purposes of swift travel, it must very soon absorb a very large amount of minor and what may he called reticular traffic. A vital point is the great quick- ness in travel in the electricity system. The trolley cars will pick up a man at any point, drop him at his exact place, and charge him only ten or fifteen cents, where the steam road has been collecting forty or fifty cents. Furthermore in the matter of speed, the electric oars can can give a good accounting, as they are equal in moat cases to a speed of twenty- five or thirty miles an hour outside of the city limits, a rate which the ordinary steam roads rarely equal and seldom pass. The wholesale trade of Toronto last week was quiet. The heavy snow storm seriously interfered with the movement, traffic in some directions being almost stopped. Travelers were unable to get about, and few country merchants have• visited the city. There are few changes in price. Owing to higher prices of raisins and curranta in primary markets, local dealers are enable to get a little more for these goods, but sales are restricted. Some large transactions in Canadian fleece wool are reported on United States account and shipments of about a million pounds are being made. This will pretty well clean up stocks in Ontario, and the con- sequence is that prices here are higher at 18ic, to 19c. The wheat market has ruled dull owing to limited offerings, but prices have not sympathized to any extent with the lower markets in Britain and the United States. - . Uncertainty with regard to the financial outlook in the States is causing some distrust on the part of Canadian investors. Several of our banks are offering New York drafts at a discount of one -eight; which will result in gold importations. Can- adian banks have over $25,000,000 due them by agencies in the United States, and a portion of this will likely be withdrawn unless some action is taken immediately by Cougress that will tend to restore eon- fidence on the part of foreign lenders. Gilt- edged seeurites show a tendecy to decline, the movement being accelerated by • the rumor of proposed issue of new bonds by the United States. British Consols are off full 1 per cent. as compared with the pride of a week ago. The Onion. Don't stink up your nose at an onion. If the following from an exohange 18 true, the onion should be in good odor with the public : " A phYeieian was seen buying a barrel of onions and being guyed about his purchase, said ' I always have boiled On- ions for dinner for the benefit of my child- ren. I like onions, too. They are the best medicine I know of foreventin r colds. p g Feed onions raw, boiled or baked to the Children three or four times a week and they grow will healthY ren and t tl s , No worms, no scarlatina, no diphtheria where children eat plenty of onions every day.' Another distinguishedhed physioian confirmed the foregoing n statement, adding: C0 1 n t give better advice nu matter w ho hard I may try.' " Donri Rochefort,who was, banished from France alone with Gen. Boulanger, has •recur ed to ble owny n f country having been made frog by the amnesty bill, for Infants and ehiidreant Caetoiri wren a so etitadat tot>?til thab is w pted I recommend itas superior to any prescription known to roe." EL A, ARanau, ILL D., 111 So. Oxford St,, Brooklyn, N.Y. "':1ho use of ' Castorla' is so universal and its merits so well known that it seems a work of supererogation to endorse it. Few are the iutefilgont families Who do not keep Castoria within easy reach." CARLOS l,LanTYN, D. D„ N w -Work City. Late Pastor Bloomingdale Reformed Church, �'t ria omen Co in%Constipation�, Sour �tqmach'glatTaea Eruotatlo n SillsWorms, Wee sleep, and promotes di gg4nWithoutijurious medication. " For several yeare T have recommended your Castoria, and'eliall always continue to. do so 4311 bee invariably produced beneficial results." EDWIN 0'. PABninta, Id, D., "The Winthrop," Meth Street and 7th Ave,,, ew York ttitf 'rm. CENTAUR COimmAtmY, 77 Ii:LUnaLY ,$THEM, NEW YOBS. :.:�•g;, tr"�a ,,.. _.• `�.::� .at..�rl _..?1t. OUR..__ t.. 4) d�UNACCOUNTABLY LOSING FLEECE! REFUSING TO TAKE 115 FOOD LISTLESS AND DEBILITATyt°ED 4WHYDO�rA YOUTRYlEZIE �QLas�."• I0O• . . -' IT WILL HELP WONDERI'ULLV • WHAT WOULD 00? JUST SPEND HIS FOUR QUARTERS FOR A BOTTLE 014 BURDOCK BLOOD BITTERS AS ALL SENSIBLE PEOPLE DO ; BECAUSE IT CURES DYSPEPSIA, GONSTIPATION, BII.2IOUSNESS,@BAD BLOOD, AND AI0I9 DISEASES OP THE STOMACH, LIVER, KIDNEYS AND BOWELS. Severe Pain in Shoulder 2 Yarn Cured by The D.&1431enthol Plaster. My wife was afflicted for two years with a severe pain under the left shoulder and through 10 the bran; after using many remedies without relief, she tried a "D.& L." Menthol Plaster, it did its work. and owing to this cure hundreds of these plasters have been told by me here, giving equal satisfaction. J. H. SUTHERLAND Druggist, River John, N.S. Sold Everywhere, 25‘. each. TERRIBLE SUFFERING IN WISCON- SIN. Settlers In the Town of Dansk Destitute of Food and Clothing. A despatch from Grantsburg, W is.,says:— Reports still continue to come in from the town of Rusk, and each time adds to the tale of terrible sufferings and starvation among the settlers there. The country. is just opened up and many of the settlers are recent arrivals. The greater number of them came from the southern part of .the" state and Pierce County, and were nearly starved out when they arrived at Rusk. The few morsels they had would not have filled a dry gc ode box. Those who arrived last spring cut away the woods and opened a small clearing and tried to raise a few vegetables to live on, after having put up rough log houses and chinked up the sides to live in. Had they succeeded in raising any- thing matters might have been different and their sufferings reduced to a certain de. gree as tar as hunger was concerned, but crops were au absolute failure. And then came the terrible forest fire, sweeping every- thing in its path. Many farmers lost the little hay they bad gathered from the scat- tering marshes, and in several instances houees,barns and their all were swept away The towns of Shell Lake and Cumberland assisted them some time last fall. The local charity fund and town funds are ex- hausted and now the county relief committee is asked to aid. Governor Upham has been requested to give immediate relief, They have almost nothing to eat and. very little to wear. One-fifth of the inhabitants are without proper food and many have not a pound of flour in the house. The relief committee held a meeting here on Saturday, after having given notice to those in need of aid. Their tales of want and woe were taken under oath and were terrible in the extreme, It is a pitiful sight to see how thinly these people aro clad, when the thermometer is registering 20 to 30 below zero. Story of Van Moltli;e. Ilia great delight was gardening, and for houre, together he was to be seen in an old straw hat and a gardener's Holland suit handling the pruning knife or the garden- t avis ors. Oneo when on a v's' ors s viSit to his s brother-in-law, Major von Burt, at Blase. . wits, near Dresden, the news had got about that the great strategist was staving g thorn. A stranger, seeing one Who seemed to be an old gardener in the grounds, asked him when would be the hest chance of Ceding Molt)re g " "Oh, l said the gardener, "about 3 o'clock." Whereupon the stranger gratefully gave his informant a mark. What was his stir. prise when on returning in the afternoon, he saw the Field Marshal—the old garden- er of the forenoon --surrounded by his friends, Moltke held up his hand: "4h 1 1 have got your mark." CANADA AND FRANCE. The New Commercial Treaty—England Sets an Important Precedent. A despatch from London says:—The oomineroial treaty between Great Britain and France relating to the interchange of trade between Canada and the Republic whioh will soon go into effect, is the first agreement entered into by England and another European country dealing ex- clusively with the trade of one of the colonies. The precedent is an important one, since all the larger colonies of Great Britain are seeking new markets for their surplus produce, and the only method for effecting that result is to make reciprocal arrangements with other countries. It really forms a part of the important question that is looming up on account of the rapid growth and development of the colonies, and which will embrace not only their commercial relations with the Mother Country, but with other countries. The new treaty is expected to lead to consider able development of trade, although the success of the arrangement depends largely upon the establishment of direct steam communication between Canada and Franca. which i ,!ready under consideration. Concise. Dude—" What are yon gazing at, you. little rascal ? If you have anything to say say it,". Negro boy—" When I sees nuran'1 says uufiin'." A Labor Saver. Mrs, Minks—" Have you filled'the patio lamp ?'' ,. "lin need fillip', Domestic--• I guess it don't 1 9 ma'am." pearl "Thm Ye patdnrllorht wr,as iii use last evening until g Yes ma'am ' but your daughter's v nun g' man was the only caller." Vet;r Sim11e. Site cousin J —" Love is a alma d � t' YC y) l3 co mpoattd. Ho—" It isn't iao0mpo.tud ; it's a slmpl -very simple."