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AWO[AN'S STORY
ORAPTER XXIX,
Q;t.UEL As TUB GRAVE..
Leon Duverdier and hie cousin were alone
in the drawing -room. Through the draped
opening of the large central window the
dimly lighted marqueeloomed shadowy,and
the tropical foliage had a somber air. The
fountain had left off playing, the electric
light bad been turned off in all three teats,
and the long vista of palms and flowers and
tapestry and velvet-ourtaiued archways
took a fueereal
aspect',
lighted kited onlyby
afe
w
small clusters of wax. Dandles plaood here
and there amidet the foliage.
Dolores looked at her cousin, stifled a
yawn, and walked slowly toward the bell
beside the chimney -piece.
"I am sure you don't expect me to be
inclined for conversation at this late hour,
Leon," she said, coldly ; "so,if you'll allow
me, I'll order your carriage."
"P:ease don't take that useless trouble.
I have no carriage. I Dame in a cab and
dismissed it. 1 shall walk back to my
hotel."
"You are not at your old address?"
" No ; I am staying at the Hotel St.
Lazare for a night or two. I am only in
Paris as a bird of passage. I Bail next week
from Havre—for Buenos Ayres."
"I hope you will be more fortunate there
than you appear to have been hero," said
Dolores, calmly.
. He was dumbfounded by the coolness of
her reply. Could so brief a separation have
worked such a change in the woman who
only a few months ago had obviously adored
him ? He was silent for some moments.
The tone of his reply was constrained.
"I congratulate you on the wisdom of
your course since I left Paris," he said ;
"you have only followed my advice. I
often told you that Perez was devoted
enough to marry you, if you played your
cards properly."
"Yes ; he is devoted, which is strange—
and I am grateful, which may seem even
more extraordinary.".
"And you are happy, I suppose ?"
"Yes, I am actually happy; but I hardly
realized till tonight how pleasant it is to
be the wife of a millionaire."
"I am glad you have found out the
value of wealth, and that your experience
has been on the sunny side of the question,
and not its dark side. I know the value of
money from the lack of it, but I am now on
a sure road to fortune. I have a better
chance and a finer opening in Brazil than I
ever had in my life—"
"I congratulate you," said Dolores.
" But I can not grasp this golden oppor-
tunity without a certain capital on hand,
Money makes money, Dolores. A man must
sow the golden seed—if only a handful of
gold dust—before he can reap the golden
harvest. Fortune is at my door, if I can
let her in; but I mus nest find the key that
will open the door."
"Your conversation really abounds is
allegories," replied Dolores; "hut though
the variations are new, the tune is always
the same. No Leon, 1 can not provide you
with the capital for your Brazilian venture.
I mean to be a loyal wife to Pedro Perez,
and I will do nothing underhand or secret
—nothing that could awaken one jee.lons
doubt in his mind, I know enough of his
eharaeter to know that with him jealousy
would be terrible."
"Then you will do nothing for me ? You
are wallowing in wealth, and you will not
lift your finger to help me ?"
"Oh, yes, I will do much more than lift
my finger. Your new venture is tb be made
in South America, where my husband is a
power. He knows every inch of the coun-
try—every speculation and enterprise that
has been made there. I. will introduce
your scheme to him, and ask hior to help
you."
"And you think he will help me?"
"Yes, when I plead for you."
"I can not wait for such a slow process
as that, Dolores. I know what these old
men are, and how they deliberate before
they will trust a young man with a thous-
and pounds sterling, even if I could buy
the philosopher's stone for the money, and
offer to share the profits of the trans-
action. I want money at once Dolores. Can'r
you understand that two or three hundred
pounds to -night will be worth a thousand
next week ? And I know you must have as
much as that.
"I have not the tenth part of two hun-
dred pounds," answered his cousin coolly.;
"I have everything in the world I can wish
tor, but aince I have been Pedro's wife I,
have had hardly any money. I am Madame
Pedro Perez; The name is enough. I can
order anything I want from any tradesman
in Paris, and my name is all 1 need give in
exchange. Pedro pays my bill' as fast as
they come ha. I have nothing to do with
money ; so, you see, if I were ever so will -
ng to help you, I couldn't do it."
There was a pause,during which the man
who called himself Leon Duverdier took
two or three turns up and down the room,
in troubled meditation. Then he stopped
suddenly and confronted Dolores with a
frowning brow.
"It is mere idle sophistication to talk to
me in this strain," he said. "You can help
me if you like, and you know ib. If you
have not bank -notes or gold:. you have
money's worth. You have jewels which I
could turn into immediate cash at the Mont
de Piete. I only ask for the loan of a few
of your gewgaws, those you value leant,
that I may raise mons upon them
for a
y Y P
month or so. I will remit the money to a
friend in Paris as soon as I am in funds,and
the Jewels shall be safely delivered into
your own hands at the hour and place which
you yourself shall appoint. Will that do
for you ?"
"No, it will not. I will not trust you
with one of my husband's gifts—indeed, I
are not, Pedro remembers every jewel he
ever gave me, and asks me from time to
time to wear particular ornaments. I
should be disgraced if T could not comply
q
with his request."
„
The argument which followed was long.
and angry. Leon grew desperate as he
found Dolorea firm in her refusal.
"You had better nob goad rno too far,"
he hissed in her ear, as she shrank from
him, with her back against the angle of
the IoW marble manble•pieoe, and her Hand
stretched toward the bell. "It is a very
Bitten thing I have asked of you.. Yet the
THE EXETER TIMES
consequences of your refusal may be more
disastrous than you can foresee. I may
be tempted to throw up the sponge, and to
let the world know some secrets in my life,
and your mother's share in them. That
revelation would be a worse disgrace for
you than the loss of a diamond necklace."
He was gone, leaving Dolores mystified
ala
by rhis d.parting , words, but uct greatly
Sow oould I have ever been blind to his
selfishness and meanness?" she wondered,
when the outer door had closed upon her
cousin.
It was four o'oloak upon a winter
morning. The last faint glow had faded
out of the logs, and Dolores shivered in her
epleudor as she surveyed her dazzling image
in the vast sheet of glass behind a low
jarniniere filled with hyacinths and
narciesus. The image which met her gaze
was radiant with gems and brilliant color-
ing, but the face under the jeweled turban
was pale and weary.
"It has been a long night," she thought,
"but at last I have made my debut iu
Parisian society. Perez Peru's wife is no
longer a person to be hidden in an obscure
lodging."
The servants, who bad been supping
luxuriously in their own quarters, now
appeared, sober and serious of aspect, all.
parentiv intent upon the safe adjustment
of looks and bolts, and putting away of
stray valuables.
The footman drew aside the plush
curtains and shut the wide plate -glass
window. He was somewhat uncertain in
twisting the long braes bolt into' its socket.
"Is all safe?" asked Dolores, listlessly, as
she took up her ostrich fan, and moved
slowly toward the door. `
"Yes, madame."
"Theo you may go to bed, all of you."
"Madame will require the services of
Elise at her toilet?"
"Not to -night. Tell her to bring me
my chocolate at ten to -morrow morning,
and on no account to disturb me before
that hour."
Now that the tension of supreme excite-
ment was relaxed, Dolores felt tired to
death. She had been moving about among
her guests, and tacking and laughing at
every Rally of wit or journalist, artist or
actor, for five mortal hours, to say nothing
of those three quieter hours during which
she had presided at her husband's dinner -
party. She could hardly crawl upstairs to
her luxurious bedroom, and she was far
too weary to submit to the somewhat op-
pressive attentions of a highly trained
lady's-maid—a maid who had lived but
lately with haggard old age, whioh required
to be put together bit by bit, and zomposed
and painted into a ghastly semblance of
youth and beauty. She had but jest
strength to unclasp her jewels—her neck•
lace of matchless pearls, the stars and clusters
and hearts and horse shoes of diamonds,
emeralds, and sapphires which studded
her bodice, the crescents wnich flashed
from her dark hair. She was imitable totake
off all these splendors, and to drop thern.
in a careless heap upon her dressing -table;
and then she exchanged her silken garment
for a loose muslin peignoir, threw back the
satin -covered eiderdown, and flung herself
upon her bed, overcome with sleep.
Darkness closed round the villa in the
Bois, in those chill hours beteeeen night
and morning—bitter cold in the garden
outside, but tempered within these walls
by the calorifere in the basement. There
were only two lamps. burning is the house.
Not a sound in that sleeping household
save the striking of various clocks, with
more or less musical chime. Five o'clock 1
Yes, there is another sound. As the
hammer falls on the gong for the fifth time,
there is a sound of a window opening so tly
and slowly on the grdund floor—then a
pause ; and then the cautious opening of a
door—another pause ; and again another
sound, the stealthy tread of lightly shod
feet on the velvet pile on the staircase.
Louise Marcet hears those sounds faintly
in her sleep. Are the servants going down
already ? It is early for them, considering
the lateness of the hour at which they went
to rest. She is sleeping somewhat more
deeply than usual, worn out by the noises
that kept her awake till an hour or ao ago.
Fond dreams of days long vanished.
Fancy bridges the dismal gulf of years, and
the grave where her lover lies ; and she
hears his voice and seas his face again, just
as she heard aud saw him more than
twenty. years ago.
Suddenly the face fades, the voice is
silent. She starts up in her bed shuddering,
her blood turned to ice at the sound of a
woman's shriek—either of fear or pain.
She springs from her bed, throws on the
peignoir that lies ready in the chair close
by„ and moves out to the landing, and to
her cousin's room. The door is open, and
in the dim light of the night lamp she sees
a white figure lying on the carpet, face
downward, aud, standing by the dressing.
table, she sees her brother engaged in
thrusting the heaped-up jewels into his
pockets. While she pauses. in the door-
way, transfixed he crams the last of the
ornaments gut of sight, and turns to leave
the room, without one glance at the prostrate
form near the bed. He recoils with an
angry oath at the sight of Louise.
"Stand out of the way," he says savagely,
"or 1'11 settle you as I've settled her."
" Thief—Murderer 1"
" Bosh 1 She's only stunned. It'll be
worse for you than tor her if you don't
hold your tongue. Let me pass, I say."
"Not with those jewels in your posses-
sion," she says facing him fe•rlessly.
" Raforo he can prevent her she has
locked the door and put the key in her
pocket.
," Thief and murderer—your first crime
has clone unpunished because my voice has
not been lifted up against you—but there
shall be no seemed crime that I can hinder 1
1 am trusted in this house, aud I mean to
protect my couain's property. If you have
killed her, your life shall pay for hers.
You shall not leave this room till you have
given up those jewels, and until I see if she
is living or dead I"
moves toward the
She m figure .urn on the
ground, and as she does so he looks round
and grasps the situation. There is
thewayf the room
no other out a The a onl
Y
other door stands wide open, revealing the
interior of a bathroom in which there is
no door—only a great marble hath and
white -paneled walls, He grasps Louise
by the shoulder and snatches the key front
the wide pocket of her dressing -gown.
"Stand aside and keep a quiet tongue in
your head," he vi hispers, threateningly ;
as she allege abou � `m
and flea t him, 1
tclutching
g
,
,.
the collar of his coat holdinghimg
with all
the force of excitement that has reaohed
fever pitch, he sees her head flung back
and her lips parted le a cry for help.
Another instant and she will raise the
house. A cruet blow from his clinched
hand stifles the cry upon her whitening lips,
and then the same deadly hand snatches a
knife from hia breast -pocket, a knife that
opens with a spring.
a.L
A thrust, and another, and then he grows
mad with rage, the blind, unreasoning fury
of a savage beast, as the lips still strive to
ory aloud, and the oyes still stare at him
wildly, and the clinging bands still bold
him, and so another, and yet another
thrust of the murderous knife, till one last
gurgling sound esoapea from those distorted
lips; the stare grows fixed and dull, the
fingers loosed, and the bleeding form falls
at his feet.
He uulooka the door and runs .down-
stane, splashed with her blood, a sister's life
blood, and creeps out by the way he came
an, stealing through the empty tents,
spurning the fading flowers, as he dashes
out into the cold night, through the silken
draperies that mark an opening in the
canvas.
He d'
idof
a moan murder when he enter-
. ed the house, least of all a sister's
murder ; but he meant plunder, and he
baa secured the booty. At day-
break he will leave for Dunkirk ;
from Dunkirk to Holland, where he will
dispose of the gems, minus their delicate
Tiffany settings.
Just at the last moment he remembers
that he must hide the blood upon his
clothes. The stains are darkest and big-
gest upon hie shirt and waistcoat, as hie
victim clung about him in the death-
etruggle.
He creeps back into the house, finds some
overcoats hanging in a vestibule, and takes
an Inverness, which is just long enough to
hide his figure to the knees.
This precaution is unlucky, for in going
out into the garden he falls intothe arms
of a gendarme, who, riding quietly by in
the night silence, had noticed the opening
of the little door in the marquee. The
gendarme dismounts, and waits to see who
will emerge from that mysterious little door
at a quarter past five in the morning.
And so Leon Duverdier, alias Claude
Morel, fella into the clutches of the raw,
and is shut up au secret in a felon's cell, to
be taken out at intervals and interrogated
by the juge d'instruction ; and before night
all Paris knows that there has been a daring
robbery and a brutal murder in Perez Peru's
villa, that the beautiful Mme. Perez has
been struck to the ground senseless in the
attempt to protect her matchless jewels
froin a. burglar, and lies in a precarious
condition, and that poor old Perez is half
mad with grief and anxiety.
CHAPTER XXX.
DAIaY'S DIARY.
It is almost a month eince I last opened
this book, a month which has brought me
daily nearer and nearer is union with him
who is to share all my life, and whom I am
to love and obey. Yes, obey; the word
suggests not the faintest souse of humili-
ation. I ant proud to have a master, such
a master. I never had that kind of feeling
with my poor dear Cyril. On the contrary,
I felt as if he had been given to me as my
slave, a person to order about.
For the first few days after that terrible
revelation about my step -father I kept my
ghastly secret. 7 could not trust even
him whom I had trusted with my whole
heart and my whole life, I feared that if
I told Gilbert my conviction of Ambrose
Arden's guilt, if I showed him how link
by link the chain of circumstantial evi-
dence could be put together until the circle
was complete, he might consider it his
duty to bring about a public investigation,
and thus condemn my mother to the home.
ror of knowing what manner of man she
had married. But after torturing myself
for those few days of puzzled thought and
nights of feverish unrest, I could bear my
burden no longer. Gilbert saw that there
was something amiss with me, that even
hie presence could not make me happy, and
he urged me to confide in him. A•.d so I
told him all the dismal story, and my
reasons for believing that my father's mur-
der had been plotted by his friend. •
"Your theory is pausible, Daisy, yet
there is no incident in life which may not
bear a double interpretation. I certainly
believe Duverdier to be the murderer, as
surely as 1 believe him to be Claude Morel
under another name ; and granting that he
is the guilty man, it is assuredly a strange
thing that he should dog your step -father's
footsteps in this quiet place, and that your
lover should renounce the happiness of his
life and go into exile, after overhearing a
conversation between his father and that
man. The links are strong links, but the
evidence is not of a kind that would be ac-
cepted in a court of law ; and I doubt if
the law will ever touch a man whose moral
guilt, granting him guilty, is greater than
the guile of the shedder of blood."
"I don't want the law to touch him; I
don't want my mother ever to know how
cruelly she has been cheated and deceived.
I only want you to understand the horror
of it all, and that this man with whom I
have to live in daily friendship, or the
appearance of -friendship, is of all men
upon earth the most abh orrent to me."
- Half the weight of my burden was lifted
off my shoulders after I had shared my
trouble with Gilbert, Heis so Mise, so
thoughtful, so just and temperate in his
judgments He would not allow that the
case was established against the wretched
man. It was a case for grave doubt; he
told rite. The circumstances were full of
darkest suspicion, but it would be dan-
gerous to condemn a fellow.creeture, above
all a friend to whom I owed so much
upon such evidence.
I shuddered at the word "friend."
"Oh, I was so fond of him once " I said.
"I used to sit upon his knee and put my
arms round his neck. I called him uncle
because I could not bear to think that he
was not related to me. I used to rim
from my father to him, and one was almost
as <lear to me as the other. And now to
know that he is utterly base, false, and
cruel—inexorably cruel, cruel as death
itself 1"
" We know nothing, " said my deareat,
in his calm, grave voice; " there is nothing
absolute or conclusive in all your evidence.
The signs of trouble of mind which you.
have noticed in your step -father may be
only the indications of physical disease.
We must wait, and watch, if need be, and
whether this dire suspicion of yours be
brought
more fullyhemet
o us or whether
we have reason to doubt the grounds upon
which it rests, there is at least one point
upon which we can have no hesitation; the
'snowled e of evil must be kept, tf
rem your
mother.
I was expressibly comforted by his cnun-
ael; but I could not forget the evidenoe of
Cyril's face, which told of dire calamity,
or the stern resolve with which he can-
celed the bond between us.
Nor was there other and nearer evidence
wanting in my
manner to
me after the change in my nanner to him,
which must have been obvious, although I
set a watch upon myself always in my
mother's presence. On the rare occasions
when Mr. Arden and I were alone together,
I maintained a resolute eilenoe, and on leo
such occasion did he ever question me as
to my altered bearing. -
And all this time there has been an air
of gayety at River Lawn anti Mother and
Gilbert and I have been fnli of pro arabions
for tbegreatoban$einoudivos, Itwillnot
be such aohmage for mother rind me, though,
as it might have been under less blessed con•
ditions for I shall be next•door neighbor,
and shall be running in and out of the
dear home garden every day, and she can
run into my garden, and .the ever lovely
and beloved arbor, where my sovereign
lord and king firs doolared his love can be
common ground for both of us. I shall
keep copies of my most adorable poste
there,, and a sketohing block and color,
box, and Gilbert shall have a box of cigars
or cigarettes in the handy little cupboard
where I used to keep my toy cups and
saucers when I was child.
No; my wedding day shall bring no sev-
erance between mother and me; by and by,
when the end which I foresee shall come,
and the shadow is lifted from her life, I
shall have that dear mother all to myself"
again, as I bad in the tranquil years of her
widowhood.
It is wicked, perhaps, to take comfort in
the thought of any one's death, yet can I
wieh a traitor's, life to be prolonged ? ,Can
I fail to see the hand of God in the grad.
ual darkening of the gloom which encircles
him—the . gradual working of that slow
poison we oall remorse ?
Again there has been talk of my trous-
seau, and this time mother has not found
me cold or Indifferent. I have taken a keen
delight in everything, especially the house
linen, about which I am as earnest as if I
had spun it myself, like an industrious
Swedish or Norwegian maiden, and had
hoarded it is great oaken presses to await
my betrothal. I am delighted to say that
Gilbert's hereditary linen closet exhibits a
vast collection of rags—beautiful Irish
damask table -cloths, with the Florestan
coat of arms woven in the fabric, smooth
and lustrous as •satin, but as transparent as
gauze when the good old housekeeper held
them up to the light.
"Single gentlemen, never do think of
such things," she said, apologetically,
"I've told Mr. Florestan often and often
that new table -cloths were wanted, but he
always forgot to order them; and then he
was here so seldom, and that made him
careless about the house."
"Of course," cried I ; "what should he
know about tablecloths ?"
And then mother and I field a grand
consultation, and selected the loveliest
patterns, and sent off a big order to a firm
in Belfast, and I felt that I was encourag-
ing the manufactures of the sister isle,
There are Irish popline in my trousseau,
too—soft, lustrous, delicious—warm and
substantial wear for my winter honey -moon.
Mother thinksofevery thin g—seasons and oc-
casione, comfort and dignity. Without folly
or extravagance, my trousseau will be per-
fect—worthy to be exhitited as an example
of sterling British common sense, as opposed
to French frivolity and American ostenta-
tion.
We are to go to the South for our honey-
moon, but not straight away to fashionable
Cannes or cosmopolitan Nice. We are to go
first to Bordeaux, and then to Pau and
Biarritz, and afterward to Toulouse, Car-
cassone, Nisines, Arles, and so on by easy
stages to Marseilles, and thence to Cannes,
just to wind up with the Prince of W ale
week, and the dances at the two clubs. I
shall be an old married woman by that time,
capable of chaperoning my unmarried
cousins if they should happen to be at
Cannes with my aunt just then. They
generally go Eouth in early spring, and
leave the doctor to make money in Harley
Street,
They all came down to River Lawn last
week to congratulate me upon my " pro-
motion" as Flora called it, and they all,
aunt included, seem to think I have done
a grand thing in getting myself engaged to
Gilbert Florestan.
" Not because he is rich," explained
Flora, "for, measured by our modern
necessities, he is little better then a pauper,
bet because he is unmistakably county.
Your relations never need be ashamed of
him."
"That is a comfort," said I, enraged at
her impertinence ; " but 1 hope you don't
suppose I accepted Gilbert to gratify my
relations, or come up to the.r•equirements
of Harley Street. I did not accept him
because he is county, and I should have
been just as deeply in love with him if he
had been a beggar."
" Ah, you may think so, and most en•
gaged girls talk in that style," said Flora ;'
but I never heard of anybody in society
marrying a beggar since the time of King
Cophetua, and no doubt he was sorry for it
afterward."
These cousins of mine are the very ess-
ence of worldliness, and I seldom stoop to
argue about matters of feeling with either
of them. They have been on the point of
making great matches ever since they were
presented, but the 'business has always
stopped short of actuality ; and Aunt
Emily says tnat marriage; from a lady's
atandpoint, will soon become impossible.
" It is easy enough for an only child like
you," she said. " Of course you are any-
body's money, but my poor girls have
nothing but their beauty and the'r accom-
plishments, and men nowadays are utterly
sordid.'
(To nE CONTINUED.)
QUEEN VICTORIA'S LABOR.
in a Year Sire, itearis TLonsan,i s or OW
pnteites and S1gus Ninny Papers.
The Queen does much work which never
appears to the public view. In one year she
has read not less than 28,000 dispatches.
Every day the sealed boxes are brought to
her wherever she is,boxea filled withgovern.
ment documents and the daily report; of the
Prime Minister. These duties conetrainher
Majesty to followstrictl y her own routine
from which she is loath to deviate. She is
in constant communication with hercabinet
ministers and, as Melbourne, Palmerston,
'Dieraeii and Gladstone have often proved,
she displays rare ability and discriminating
tact in the handling of the most delicate and
important matters of public business.
Her very handsome hand hastegneil more
state papers, with larger results, than any
other swaying
the rod of
empire: to—day. It
has been reverently kissed by Ilion and
women whose names will live for many gen-
erations—by Wellington and Macaulay, by
Peel and Tennysomby Peabodyand Lowell,
and thousands of the gifted, .the generous,
the butte and the fair who have reeved
through the pure halls of her court.
A Wise Provision.
Little Ethel (who has been looking at
pictures)—When boys go to
heaven, they
Y
just, take their heads an put '
� p wings on thein,
an' they fly around that way.
Little Johan I,—Wot's that for 7
t, e '.
Little the I guess that'll go they
can't fight.
"'Allan wants but lietle here below,"
Now, l'm inclined to doubt it.
Ite gets hitt little ; wants a pile,
And has to do withottt it.
Children Cry for Pitcher% Castorii
eteee
•
//nil' Q�w\\\;:•.. :\`r 0.. . .
etet'e'e's,>t '
for Infants and Children.
"
O toil w to
thBit
ae
rlietta e11aIL eLndrett
[ recommend it r an recoil
ret mmen as to yp Phot►
known tome." E. A. Annus, 11, D.,
11180. Orford St., Brooklyn, N. Y.
"The use of ' Castoria' is so universal and
its merits so well known that it seems a work
of supererogation to endorse it. Few are the
intelligent families who do not keep Cantona
within easyreaoh."
Cantos Mama, D.D.,
New York City,
Late Pastor Bloomingdale Reformed Church.
Caatoriw outdo Collo, Qonstipa on,
Sur Stomach,
Dtanh
sea. Eructation,tioA
,
Mins Worms, gives sleep, and promotesotae df
g�as 0
Witkout injurious medication -
a For several years I have recommended
yourCsstoria,' and shall always continue to
do so as It has invariably produced beneficial
reSulte."
EDWIN F, PARDEE, N. D.,
"The Winthrop," 125th Street and 7th Ave.,
New York City.
Tam (UMW= Conrner, 77 MURRAY SraaaT, NEW YORE.
JUST SPEND HIS FOUR QUARTERS FOR A BOTTLE OF
BURDOCK BLOOD BITTERS AS ALL SENSIBLE PEOPLE
DO; BECAUSE IT CURES DYSPEPSIA, GONSTIPATIOr4,
BILIOUSNESS, BAD BLOOD, AND ALID DISEASES OF
THE STOI't.ACI-I. r TV-'- """'"—
THE
-._,..,
THE FIELD OF COMMERCE
Some Items ofinterest to the Bast-
. tress Man.
The gold reserve of the United States
Treasury now aggregates $38,000,000.
Forty-two cars of nickle matte left Sud
bury last week for Constable Hook, N. Y
They averaged 40,000 lbs. to the oar.
Eggs are very scarce on Toronto market
with Bales of case lots of limed at 20 cents
Fresh eggs are firm at 250, to 26c. in a
jobbing way.
Canadian securities aro quiet and firm
in London. Toronto 3e per cents. sold at
96, Montreal 34's at 94, and Dominion 3's
ehangod at 13.
of wheat in
only 715,000
been expected.
is 34,9(10,000
00 bushels a
r at New York
anticipated at
of gold since
20,339,000, as
corresponding period
hanged. Both
Dalt loans are
rime etSmmer-
to 61- per cent.
quoted at 1�
e per cent. • '
returns show
. and Feb, of
with 8,776 for a
Entries of sheep
February, 1$95,
14,685 in 1895
says another at-
tempt petroleum
the auspices of
Rothschilds, and
There will be a
this object some
month. The pro-
ject Ministry of
ave nominally
mess ensued,
points to 6.30,
moue purchase
y an Austrian
re secured its
Exports continuo
e thus far the
Ions of refined.
deliveries about
consequently
the advance.
try has made
Ding territorys
located in West
the exchange
the large vol•
g
during January
irregular, two
partially balanced
supply of choice
isnfiicient and
before arriving,
tui r d'on'Tuesr
within half a Dant
American stook of
about 60,000 bags
to a corms-
pending
e comparison
orison
P
'Trade conditions at Toronto are un-
changed. Merchants speak in a hopeful
strain with regard to the future. Many
have reduced their lines of discount, and
owing to cautiousness in making purchases
are better prepared for contingenoies that
tnay arise before there is any marked in-
crease in the volume of businese. country
roads are. yet in a bad sbatein many seetiona,
at 100. Hudson's Bay is un
The decrease •in stocks
America last week was
bushels, much leas than had
The amount afloat to Europe
bushels as against 31,280,0
year ago.
Sterling exchange is highs
but gold exports are not
present. - The net exports
January let amount to $
%gannet $3,341,000 the correa
of last year.
The money markets are ung
in Toronto and in Montreal
quoted at 4 per cent., and p
tial paper is discounted at 6
At' New York pall loans aro
to 2, and at London at I to 1
The Toronto cattle market
receipts of cattle during Jau
13,643 head, as compared
like period last year. En
were 9,199 forJanuary and
and 6,435 in 1894 ;. of hogs,
and 14,253 in 1894.
The Pall Mall Gazette
tempt is being made to unite
producere in Russia under
nobles and the French
thus create a monopiy.r T
meeting of producers with
tiste within the present
ject is favored by the Rusai
Finance.
Petroleum certificates h
advanced although on bus
while refined advanced 20
with good demand. An enormous
of American oil was made h
concern, which has heretofore
petroleum from Russia. Ex
heavy, from New York alone
year exceeding 75,000,000 gal
Runs continue to exceed d
25,000 barrels per day, and
prices, are expected bo retain
The Standard Oil Company
further purchases of oil producing
this time the wells being
Virginia.
Sales of coffee options at
be getting back to
seem to i
fi g
Inure of business transacted
in New York, but are still
good days being usually
byone of less activity. the st
qality mild grades is still iI
cargoes are frequently sold
Anotherfractional advanceoc
day, taking the quotation wit
of last year's figures• The Am
Bazil coffee bas declined
during the week, but owing
los last ondm e s year,th
g
P
shows no greater decrease,
1 which restrict the movement of produce,
but they will improve with fine w eatber..A
good trade was done last week in millinery
and fancy goods, while an increasing busi-
ness is expected in general dry goods. Atie
hardware trade is in fairly good shape, and
grocers are hopeful. The enchanced valuea
of coarse grains, dressed hogs, etc., are
encouraging to farmers. Large exports of
eggs to the States have cleaned up stocks,
and ;the wool market is in good shape.
Manufacturers and importers would like.to
see the elections over, and the tariff
question set at rest. If these iwere
over there is every reason to believe
that confidence would assert itself and
result in improvement. Banks have con-
siderable;idle capital at present. Call loans
on prime securities are negotiated at 4 per
cent.,and the best commercial paper at 6
to 6e per cent. ' The open discount rate in
London is lower at le, while the Bank of
England rate continues at 2 per cent., where
it has stood for more than a year. Sterling
exchange is firmer in sympathy with the:
high rates existing in New York, and ex-
change is firmer at about par on New York.
Bank shares are' inclined to heaviness, the
most marked decline being in Commerce.
There is, however, very little trading in
this class of security. After a moderate.
decline, British consols have become Dreier,
closing yesterday at 104x.,
A MARVELOUS MEMORY.
George W. Mentilton Has Had Offers from,
Museums and Scientists.
George W. McMillion,of Friar's Hill, Vir-
ginia, is: about 40 years old and has the gift.
of remembrance wonderfully developed. He
remembers everything he ever knew or
read, and can perform the mostremarkable.
feats. He can, off hand, recite the names,.
birthdays, hour of death, majoritiea and the
closest details of the lives of all the Presi-
dents in regular order ; can name all the•
horses in his neighborhood ; can recite
poems of 3,000 words without missing a.
word ; can recount the details of every visit
he has made in his life ; can name all the -
people he has met in two weeks and every
word every one of them said ; can quote
ohapter after chaptereef the Bible, and has
a like penchant for repeating history.
He is hardly human in many respects,,
sleeping in the woods and often going for
weeks without washing his face.. line oh
his most interesting feats is the repetition,'
of every word of a marriage ceremony whieli
he heard when Ise was 21 and which united
a girl who was his sweetheart to another
Man. It is said that this ceremony was the
first thing he ever tried to remember, and
that the circumstances surrounding it, are•
the cause for his peculiar habits, having
been a very promising young man before
this girl jilted him. Since then he has:
given no attention to his personal eppear
ance,and cares for nothing but reading and.
remembering things. .
Yee
Moth r, in-law as She Is.
Grocer—You seem to be living mostly om.
canned goods lately.
Mr. Newwed Badly --Yes my
wife's
mother is away.
In Frame) it is decided that the makers
of bicyclea are reeponeible for damagee.
when au accident occurs through a struc-
tural fault in
tructuralfaultin a machine.
He--" Perhaps yon are aware that moat.
the great in ent'ons the of v 1 of h world are
conceived by men." She-" Oh, • they are
driven to invention. They haven't any
hairpins to do things with.
"Trimmius has a first-rate voice," said
the critic at the concert, "but he al:ways.'
comes in behind time." "Yea," replied
the manu hb lends money, " I guess
force of habit. 'Trimming' notes are always,
overdue."
e
li