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The Exeter Times, 1895-4-4, Page 6tie Cures ttoultertiptiop4 CoughasCrotsp,Sore Throat. SoldbYv all Drnegists on a guarantee, /ear a Latae Side, lied; or Cheat Shiloh's Foroua Plaster will give great eeatrsa far ton.-- 2$ cent9.. ILOH'S VITALIZER. Mrs. T. king Chattanooga Tenn. ea s. ,'s a w ,. �htloh'a Vitattzea� •SdT�k1.D ASI'' .)r•l•Il'E• r eensider^itth8brsitetnedn `oratteirttitateds came T ever Rased," For Dyepepsll , Liver OrEidney 'trouble it e.Noels. Prioe 75 Cts. I 100 4 tR REMEDY. ,�� r-•t>a _. •,air.• Rave youCatarrh ? Try thisRemedy. It will ppo�sltivialy relieve and Cure you. Price 60 eta, This Injector for its successful treatment is se tree.tO*veotidieavtt O' eea tiot. LEGAL. WOMAN'S STORY O11A1'T4It XXXIII A'M.BIto$>l ARM'S OON1'E$$10N,. To -morrow morning, before the day le old, Claude Morel will expiate hie last and worst orime on the Scaffold. He is now sitting in hia condemned coil writing his confession, the story of the murder in Denmark Street, the hideous history of his crime and of mine, which he bee sworn that he will leave behind him to•.morrow morning' to be published broadcast to all civilized Europe before tomorrow night, This room where 1 alt in the deep of night, in a silence rarely broken by some belated footfall in the lane, this room lined round with books,, mute companions of my joyless manhood, is my condemned cell. The day that will dawn in a few hours will be as surely my day of doom as it will be Claude Morel's. The sentence of death that was pronounced upon him was a sentence of death pronounced upon me, His fate involved my fate. When I made him the instrument of my crime I made myself his slave. Oh, my beloved, the only idol of my life, it is for you I write the history of my sin. No other eye but yours need ever look upon these lines, unless you ate will it : and I do not think you will expose this dark record of weak passion and unscrupulous crime to an indifferent public. Let the world know my story only as it will be told by my accomplice—a ghastly story, oruelly and brutally told, no doubt. These:details of my temptation and my fall are for you EI, DICKSON, Barrister, Soli - 4. altar of Suureme Oourt, Notavy public, Oonveyaneer, Cnmurissioner, &0 Money to Loan: OMcet n anson'$Bleak. Exeter, 1. a COLLINS, Barrister, Solicitor, Conveyancer, Etc, DIETER, - ONT. OFFICE : Over O'Neil's Bank. ELLIOT & ELLIOT, Barristers, Solicitors, Notaries Public, Conveyancers &o, (M. II'llfoney to Loan at Lowest Rates of interest. OFFICE, - MAIN - STREET, EXETER. B. v. 1CLLrov. FREDERICK uLLTGT. MEDICAL T W. BROWNING M. D., M. C E.1 • P. 8, Graduate Victoria Univers tr. macs and residence, uom;nion Lebo a tory ,Exeter , DR. HYJSLDMAN, coroner for tie County of Enron. Office, opp Atte Carling Bros. store, Exeter. RS. ROLLIN'S & AMOS. Separate Otiloes. Residence same as former. Ey, Andrew st. Offices: Spackman's building. Main et: Dr Rollins' same as formerly, north door; Dr. Amos" same buildin", south door. 3..&. ROLLIN'S, M. D., T. A. AMOS, M. D Exeter, Ont AUCTIONEERS. HARDY, LICENSED AUC - d. Helmer for the County of Huron. Charges moderate. Exeter P. 0. BOSSENBERRY, General Li - 1. (mased Auctioneer Sales conducted in allparts. Satisiactionguarantood. Charges moderate. Hensall P 0, Ont: TIFENRY EILBER Licensed Auc., . tieneer for the Counties of Huron and Micdleses : Sales conducted at mod- erate rates. Otnoe, at Post-otiioe Ored- ton Ont. MONEY TO LOAN. MONEY TO LOAN AT 6 AND Par pont, 525,000 Private Funds. Best Loaning Oompanieerepresented. L. H. DIOR:SON, Barrister. Exeter. VETERINARY. Tennent& Tennent EXETER, ONT. #•aradaateeofthe Ontario Veterinary Cil Orrice : One door South ofTown Hall. THE WATERLOO MUTUAL FIRE INSIIRANOECO . Established in. 1863. HEAD OFFICE • WATERLOO, ONT. This Company has been over Twenty--eigh yearsin successful operttion in Western Ontario, and continues to insgteagainst loss or damage by Fire, Baildtnxa, Merchandise Iiasiufaetories and all other descriptions of insurable pro(ierty. Intending insurers have the rmeton of insuring on the Premium Note or rasl'iWystem. Durine the past. ten years this company has issued e7,096 Policies covering 1)1,000 to the amount of $40,872038; and paid in lossesalone 5709,752.00. Assets, $176,100.00, consisting of Cash in Bank Government Deposit and the unasses- sed Premium Notes on hand and in force J.WWeltee, Af.D., President; 0 M. Teatime Secretary ; J. B. IinGars, Inspector . OKA$ NELL, Agent for Exeter abdvioinity CAP mss !TTM[ OVER PILLS. CURE Sick Headache and relieve all the troubles incl. dent to a bilious state of the system, such as Dizziness, Nausea. Drowsiness. Distress after eating Pain in the Side, c. While til most remarkable success has been shown curing SICK Headache yet CARTER'S LITTLE LIVER TILLS are equally valuable in Constipation, curing and preventing thisannoyingcpmplaint,while they also correct all disorders of the stonTach, stimulate the liver and regulate the bowels. Even if they only cured HEA Ache they would be almost priceless to those who suffer from this distressing complaint; but fortunately their goodness does not end here, and those who once try them will find these little pills valuable in so many way that theywill nob be willies to do without them.e Butafterall sick head asi is the I; of so many lives that here le where we metre our geoid bout, Our pills cute it velaRe ofrieie cj,¢ `nod. OAnrr•.R's Lrvbri t LtvaR PILLS ere very, Appall and very (any to take. One or two it make a does 'Tiley are etrtetly vegetal) tied Z 0 not grips or implies, Vit by tbeil' en a action please all vrbq se ti}�rm vials at Si,r„ertte- five for $1. Mold eve , herd, (Vent by enell OAA{TElt�#liEl/ft t+�i O a ) e* Yes , ci lli, Hlld � of Smolt trio& alone; for you who may perhaps execrate my memory just a little less if I urge my one plea for mercy—I loved you with a love that was stronger than honor or manhood, stronger than all the instincts of a life that had been blameless while it was passionless —a love that made me a villain. I first saw Claude Morel at an Italian public -house in Greek Street, where I went to distribute some money, collected from a few of my friends, among the distressed Co vaunists who had come to London for a refuge, and who were some of them almost starving. Most of the people assembled in thatup-stairs room over the tavern bar were depressed and dispirited by their necessi- ties, and had very little to say, except to express their thankfulness for the aid which I took tl3em ; but Morel had a great deal to say abdut the political situation in France. He spoke well, I was interested in his fervid eloquence, and in the latent passion which burned in every phrase. I put him down as a dangerous man in any country, a firebrand in such a city as Paris. He heard, en passant, that the friend who had given more than half the sum I had collected was Robert. Hatrell. I saw the startling effect of that name upon him, and I was hardly surprised when he follow- ed me into the street and began to question me about my friend. I was surprised, however, at the malignity of his speech, and the intensity of malice which betrayed itself in his tone and manner. He told me the story of a sister's wrongs. She had been fooled and duped by a wealthy Englishman, who coolly refused any rep-' fixation for the wrong he had done— for a girl's blighted name and broken heart, He was not very explicit in his charges, but this was the kind of thing which he gave me to understand, and he was just as vindictive as if he had been certain of his fame. I heard the true story of the case from your husband afterward, and he gave me his honor that his worst offense had been a sentimental flirtation with a griaette, an innocent, unsophisticated girl with whom he had been almost seriously in love. His attachment had just stopped short of a serious passion, and he had just escaped the folly of a low marriage. I believed my friend's statement, and thought no more of Morel's malignity, which I did not suppose would 'ever take any overt form, though I considered it my duty to warn Robert Hatrell of the existence of this vindictive feeling, and to let him know that his enemy was in London. He laughed at the man's threats, and the subject was dismissed by us both. x had T,liitost begotten it when 1 met Morel in Gower Street one afternoon on my way from the Museum to the Metropoli• tan Railway Station. He told me his troubles, the difficulty of getting employ- ment. his schemes and inventions, which sounded chimerical in the last degree, and Isis want of money. He talked again of my friend Hatrell, bat I stopped him peremptorily. ",I have heard youstory Y r sister's from my friend's own lips," I said : "and I am convinced that your version is a tissue of lies." He was furious at this. He upbraided me for believing a gentleman in preference to a man of the people. It was the old etory. The well-born aeducer could always escape the consequences of his wrong -doing; but for once in a way the world should see that retribution may follow wrong. Robert Hatrell had broken his sister's heart and had grossly insulted her, and he meant to be even with him. He asked me for half a sovereign, but I had only a few shillings about nee ; so he gave me a card with a written address upon it, begging me to send him a post -office order next day, • I have since discovered that he had appealed to your husband for money, and had been sternly refused; and no doubt that refusal was e, more unpardonable offense than any sin against his sister, It was within a week of thia accidental encounter with Morel that I received an unexpected visit from my father's old lawyer. He came to Lamford in order to communioate some very wonderful news. A second cousin of my father's had lately died in Chicago, leaving me }xis residuary legatee, and, wibh some insignificant ex- ceptions, the inheritor of a large.fortgne acquired in. trade, I had nave even heard of Matthew Arden, who two. begq.h ills with a small estate in thei Bet Riin little use to rne; and even my taste in books was inexpensive, I did not pine for tall copies or rare editions, All 1 valued in a. book was ite Contents. At. this time I had not attained to the fine instilled/ of a collector. I told my old friend that I should make no diOerenoe in my mode cf life, and that 1 should tell my son nothing of this Change in our fortunes for soine time to conte, 1 begged the good old family lawyer to exercise the discretion whiolt had always been his distinguishing quality, and to take care that no newepapor paragraphs desoriptive of my unexpected luck had their source in his office. When the lawyer left me I sat alone among my books, and thought over the change in my fortunes. A stroke of luck which would have made most men half mad with joy left me cold. What could wealth give me? Nothing, for it could not give me you. Yee, Clara, it was of you, and you only, that I thought as I tried to estimate the value of these riohes that had fallen into my lap. What was their worth to me? what could they do for me? what could they buy for me? Nothing, nothing, nothing 1 I was still a young man, I was not ill looking, and I had some pretensions to intellectual power. Hitherto poverty had exercised its restraining influence upon me. I had lived obscurely, remote from the world. I might now,• if I pleased, make a figure in society, live in a fine house, and surround myself with fine people. I had no more inclination to do this than I had to head an expedition to the North Pole. Society had no pleasure to offer me. Neither house nor garden nor stable had. any attraction for me. I was not a sports- man. I was not a yachtsman. I had never felt the faintest interest in a race on land or water. I had but one passion, one dream, one desire upon earth or beyond the earth —and that was you. My whole being resolved itself into one ardent longing—to win you. I loved you from the first day I saw you. Oh, God 1 how vividly I can recall that first day and hour, that casual meeting which decided the whole course of my life, for good or evil 1 Your face flashes out of the shadowy distance beyond the lamp•light— a vision of gladness and beauty—as it shone upon me that clear October morning, when you stood before me leaning against your husband's arm, newly returned from your honey -moon, a two months' bride. You remerber our first meeting, Clara; how I looked in through the open gate and saw you standing deep in conversation with your husband and his architect, who was holding an open plan for you both to look at. I had made Mr. Hatrell's ac- quaintance a few days before, when he came down to Lamford alone, and We happened to travel in the same railway carriage. He introduced himself to me as my future neighbor, and insisted upon giving me a lift in his fly from the station, though I told him it, was my habit to walk home. ""I wan t you to tell me all about the neighborhood," he said. This had broken the ice. and on this second time of seeing each other we ex- changed friendly salutations through the open gate; and.then, as I lingered a little, he called me into the garden and introduced me to his wife. I remember your courteous greeting—so courteous, vet so careless. How could you dream that I was to be so potent a factor in your sum of life 1 How could you guess that the lovely face which you turned toward me, so unconscious of its power, was to change the whole current of my existence—to make me first your passionate lover, and next your husband's murderer 1. Yes, Clara, his murderer. From that hour I was foredoomed to do evil for your sake. I was fated to blight your happi- ness, and to miss being happy, even though I gained the wages of my crime. What did I think of you that day ? Only that you were the most enchanting woman I had ever seen, and that Robert Hatrell was a man for all other men to envy. My thoughts went no further than that on the first day. I thought ot your loveliness as I should have thought of some rare flower—the white chalice of the Victoria regia floating in the tropical haze of a still -water pool, the pale purple or vivid gold of some fairy-like orchid— something delicately beautiful that did not coins within the scope of my life. I had no more definite thought of you than that, yet afterward I knew that 1 had loved you from the first. The change was in myself, not in my thoughts. A slow consuming fever was kindled in me that day which has never ceased to burn. Little by little, by infinitesimal Stages, it has burped up heart and brain; Your husband liked me, and you were always kind. For the first years of our acquaintance we met but rarely ; and it was not till you were established at River Lawn that, I came to be intimately ac- quainted with you both, and gradu- ally to be almost one of the family. Daisy was the link which united us. 1 had the good fortune to win the child's love, and this assured me of the mother's friendship. You loved hooks, while your husband cared little for readingof any intellectual pursuit, being, above all, a man of action. I was able thus to supply some- thing wanting in your life, and to fill a place which he ought to have been able to fill. I was the adviser of your studies and the sharer of your ideas. I felt sometimes as if I were the husband of your intellect, as he was the husband of your heart. Had I ever seen any wavering in your fidelity to him, any weariness of the tie that bound you to him, I do not believe that I should have tried to turn it to my own advantage. I could not have degraded you by one unworthy prayer. I could not couple dishonor witb•your image. There were times when our calm friend. ship, our mutual love for your child, which kept us in touch with each other, seemed to me almost enough for my happiness, I felt as if I could have gone on contentedly thus to old age, making a quiet third in your life—now with your husband, now with your daughter, always subordinate—the shadow beside your sun- shine. And then, while 1 was . cheating myself with these calm thoughts, a wave of passion would sweep over my being, a demon. of je4lousy would rend and tear me, and I could not endure to be with you in the serene atmosphere of domestic) love. JYotlr hi7 altaed's every loots and every tone he farmed his own 1aed, o,,1 fad aside( TIVh { tortured me. as one of the richest merchants in Chicago, You have both of you reproached me For me this fortune was a fortune dropped from the clouds. I was astounded, but hardly elated by this sudden change from poverty to wealth. The etudiou8 life i was leading was the only life I should ever Dare to lead. Money, exeopt so far as the indulgence of my taste as a collector of books, could be of verb' sometimes for keeping aloof, for burying myself among my books, and shunning the hdspitalities of River Lawn. If you could hive seem me in those supposed studious intervals, you would have seen a roan pos. sassed of devils, given over to perdition, Imagine these years of alternate storm and calm, imagine a mind and heard burned up by on devouring paseiou, worn out with the neonatony of despair,: and then think what my thoughtsmust have been as 1 satin my solitude and broodedover the worthlessneaa of my newly aeguired wealth. Bad yea been .free, fortune would have Meant every bhing for me. Rad you been free—thewidow of e. rich Man --it would havobeen la hard thing to approach yon as a pauper, Myride would have revolted against owing all to you, fortune as well as happiness. Butnow—now that I was rich, your equal at leaabin fortune --my motives could not inspire doubt oven in the mean - eat mind. Were I to wed you no malioious worldling could ever say of me, "He gained all by that Jacky marriage," Were you but free I began to meditate upon the uncertain- ty of life, and to picture to myself the accidents and sudden, unforeseen disease by which men as young and vigorous as Robert Hatrell are sometimes taken away. 1 thought of railway accidents, and imagi- nation conjuredup the picture of some such catastrophe in all its vivid detail—an engine off the track, a ooaoh or two wreck- ed, and Robert Hatrell lying dead upon the aide of the enbanknient, I pictured the sudden horror of hie home -coming upon the shrouded bier—your agony, your tears. I passed over those lightly, thinking of how it would be my lot to console you, slowly, patiently to win you bank to happiness and a new love. I never doubted your love for him ; I knew that your heart was entirely his ;but I thought I had an influence over your mind which would speedily ripen into love, he being removed. I understood you so little you see, Clara. I had not fathomed the mystery of your heart. He has been dead nine years, and you love hint still, You have never loved me. I thought of the river, saw him rowing toward the sunset, with his strong, slow stroke, in such a soene as our English landscape painters love ; the village church beyond the low line of rushes ; the cluster- ing willows, pale in the evening haze : the glory of the sunset behind the church tower and tall elms. I thought that even on that placid river there were possibilities of danger --a boat of silly, chattering cockneys upset, a strong man swimming to their rescue, and losing his life in the struggle to save those un- known lives. Such things have been. I thought of fevers which seize men sud- denly in the full vigor of youth. I thought of insidious diseases which creep union a man unsuspected, and sap the citadel before he knows that Death, in one of his numerous disguises, is ab the door. Last of all I thought of Morel and his threats of vengeance. I laughed at the notion. Harmless thunder, no doubt. It is common enough for angry men to threaten, bub threatened' men live, There was something in my recollection of Claude Morel which made me dwell upon his image in that long reverie, as the lovely light of .the June afternoon slowly faded, and the gold of the western sky shone into my room, dazzling my dreaming eyes. I recall the color of the sunset, the feeling of the air as it gradually cooled into even- ing. I recall every hal f•unconscious impression of hours which marked the crisis ot my life, and saw me change from an honest man to a villain. There were in Morel's tone and manner certain indications of a malignity which I had never seen in any other man. There was a concentration of purpose, a resolute intention to injure, which must ultimately take some definite form, I told myself, nu - less cowardice should intervene. And I did not think Morel a coward. The man had so little to lose. His fortunes were desperate enough to make him daring. What if the opportunity arose, and he were to murder the man he hated—the man who had refused to help him in his distress? I implicitly believed Rob- ert Hatrell's account of his love affair, and I did not give Morel credit for caring much about Me sister's reputation. He had tried to make money out of the Englishman's caprice, but he had failed ig- nominiously. Hence, and hence only, that rancorous hatred. Ie was of the temper which in the hour of misfortune would turn like a tiger against the fortunate—the temper of men who surge up out of the paving stones and gutters of every great city in the time of revolution, and who do evil for evil's sake. Upon the conscience of such a man as that murder would sit lightly. What if he really meant murder ? I pictured that sinister figure lurking in the rustic lanes, lying Bidden in a dry, flowery ditch, ander the spreading hedge -row, ready with pistol or knife when his enemy passed by. Opportunity ? Why, if he meant murder it would be easy enough for him to create his opportunity. But when the thing was done, when that gnawing rage had satiated itself, there would be nothing gained but the gratification of his anger, and there would be the hazard of the gallows. The murderer's craft may minimize that risk. The old saw, that murder will out, has proved a lying proverb of late years. The art of murder has progressed with the march of civilization, and the modern murderer is more than a match for the modern policeman. I recalled a murder which had interested me curiously years before, when I read the account of it in a London newspaper, 1 being then remote from London, amid the stillness of the Welsh hills. It happened in the days when trades unions were called conspiracy, and when the law of the land bore heavily upon work- men who banded themselves together against their employer. A certain set of men had conspired; there had been out- rages and violence in a certain northern city, and attempted arson. The ringleaders were denounced by one of themselves, were tried, found guilty, and sentenced to transportation for life. The man who betrayed them dared not remain in his native city. There he knew himself to be a marked man, but he thought he would be safe in London, under an assumed name. He came to London, got employment readily, for he was a clever workman, and funded the price of his treaohery as a nest - egg for his old age. Going homeward one.day, at his dinner hbur, he walked along a quiet street in Soho, whioh he was in the habit of passing through daily. Midway this street is in- tersected by a narrow alley. As the man came in front of the opening he was shot dead by some one standing in the alley, waiting for him to pass. No one ever knew what hand fired the shot. It was in broad daylight, in the heart of a busy district, but the murderer disappeared as easily as if he had been spirit and not flesh. Y tell yon of -thio long -forgotten crime, Clara, because it was the nucleus of evil thoughts which slowly took the form rof murder. (To 13E OONTINUiin,) as. Children Cry for Pitc`ier's Cattorlai Fe THE STERNER SAX, ]PROPER CLOTHES FOR THB SEASON NOW AT RAND. Sonia Nobby Conceits in Rosins* and 1►rese. Attire for the Up -to -bate Mao - Vito Changes axe of a Mashed Nature anal Demand Attention. Fashions in men's clothing suffer little changes from year to year, 'yet these changes are of a marked nature and demand attention. If, for instance, the trousers of 1894 were put on now they would be found away out of date, and yet the only differ- ence between them and the proper thing for 1895 is a closer leg and straighter cut with. out any of the spring of a year ago. All body co ats,such as frook and walking coats, have grown perceptibly shorter, while sank coats remain at aboub their usual lengths. Vests are a trifle shorter, with just n slight rouud-off on the front line below the lower button. The most alarming fee. ture of the changes that present themselves is that which will be adopted in the selection of goods. They will be of brighter shades than worn for some time. The tendency is to use more fancy oheviots and more fancy worsted suitings for general busi- ness purposes. The double - breasted sack -coat suit will be pop- ular, with its edges doublestitohed one-fourth of an inch, the collar and LOUD, BUT PRO• lapels of moderate width, PER. the shoulders back as wide as the propor- tions of the wearer will permit, without wadding or padding of any description. The fronts are to be thrown open and roll- ed at will. This coat should have neither outside breast nor Dash pookets, The double•breasted frock for half dress is regaining its old-time popularity. The labels are faced with silk to the buttonholes. No pookets outside except a cash pocket. Sack coats will bo cut shapely, trading the form of the wearer with exact- ness, but xact-ness,but not close fitting, and a trifle shorter than last year. In fact, all coats are to be shorter than heretofore. Three - button cutaways a n d Prince Alberts will be made of rough materials in Oxfords and in wine colors. Thefeatures of the new three button cute- ways is the absence of ;he outside breast poc- VERY NODDY ket. - Extreme dressers will wear colored cloth in full dress suits,such as browns,some colors and adahlias. The dress coat will be shorter, and both the shawl collar and peaked lapel will be all. Flashy effects will be thrown into busi- ness suits, such as checks, plaids, etc. They will be made up in three and four - button sacks, and also double-breasted. There is a new coat out for those who don't like sack coats for business suits and at the same time don't like long cutaways. It is a long -waisted, with a short skirt cut loose in the back, with much the same as the sack coats. DEAD SWELL. effect Overcoats, both in coverts and Chester fields, will be worn. The covert will be with plain seams, generally got up with strapped and lapel seams. The Chesterfield is gener- ally made up silk - faced to the edge of the buttons, without the outside or breast pockets, anti some- what shorter than last season. All coats will be cut with long collars and full lapels. There is a shawl col- lar dress coat intend- ed for younger people, generally worn with wash or Marseilles vests. No wardrobe is considered replete the without Tuxedo or dress sack, which is very useful, as it is the thing for stag VP TO DATE. parties, , etc. The Spanish Minister in Washington has esigned. ij i ec; for 1nffellhs a>nd !l11±'c. Grp l'pastoriairstrwelladaptodtoOh ldrenthi b t recommend it as wporiortpany prescription mown tome." iEfO A, Aaoiras, M. P., 111 ao. Oxford St, Brooklyn, N. Y. "The use of'OastoriaIS so universal ami ita merits so well known that it seems a work of supererogation to endorse it. Few are the intelligent families who do not keep Csatoria within easyreaeh." GAutoa. !ff &RT N, D. D.. New Work City, Leto Pastor Bloomingdale Reformed Church. Sour Stomach, caolt Collo, W patten, Kills. Sl cane iv blaea' d prd &Otey i . p �tton, Witt injurious medication. • " For several steam flume roomer/40d your Oas'. torla all always continuo to d oosso�t it 1550 imai'tably Pteduced beneficial EDWIN la'. Pennss. M. F►,, ogle W1ntitrop," It bth Street and 7th Ave., Now York pity, Tall °VITAXIR COMPANY', 77 MinlnAY STOOIUT, NEW YoRII. gee t .iia; Ki t p.�R a %'® 'mo i. •• Rarl VSINFUL IIAB1TS1YOLITllI . LATER EXCESSES IN MANHOOD K MAKE NERVOUS, DISEASED MEN Ke, RES p 00 ignorance and folly in youth, overexertion oe mind and body induc gti I 1 1 E I1 Eel LT ed bylust and exposure aro constantly wreaking the lives and pfutnro1719 na appiness of thousands of promising young men. Some fade and wither at an early age, Nall Bat the blossom of manhood, whilee others are forced to drag out a weary, fruitless and melancholy existence. Others reach matrimony but find no solace or comfort there. The victims are found in all statione of life: -Tice farm, the office, the workshop, the pulpit, the trades and the professions. RESTORED TO MANHOOD BY DRS. K. && K. 5 Wm. A. WALKER. Wm. A. WALKER. AIRS. CHAS. FERRY, CHAS. FERRY, .7S.x BEFOliE T00,l ttENT AFTER TREATMENT Divorced brit united again;, • E17"10 NAMES OR TESTIMONIALS USED WITHOUT WRITTEN CONSENT:VS Wm. A. Walker of 16th Street says:—" have suffered' SYPHILIS + untold agonies for my "gay life." I was indisereot when, young and ignorant. As ' One of the Boys" 'contracted EMISSIONS yphilis and other Private diseases. Ihad ulcers in the STRICTURE month and throat, bone pains, hair loose, pimples on face, finger nails came of, emissions, became thin andel despondent. Seven doctors treated mo with Aferonry,re Potash, eto. They helped me but could not erre me.10 Finally afriondindnced metotry Drs.Kennedy & Hargan. RTheir New Method Treatment cured mein a few weeks. Their treatment is wonderfullil Yon feel yourself gaining every day. I have never heard of their failing to cure in aeinglei+. case." o, iaW"CURES GUARANTEED OR MONEY REFUNDED r It Capt. Chas. Ferry says ;—"I owe my life to Drs. K. & K. At 14 I learned a bad habit. Al-. 21 Iliad all the symptoms ® CURED se,of Seminal Weakness and Sp ermatorrhrea,.,Emissions IMPOTENCY 114 were drainin and weakeningmy vitality. I married at VARICOCELE 24 under advice of my family doctor, but it was a �����0��� Mad experience. In a htetn months we were divorced. I It ®then consulted Drs. K. &K., who restored me to manhood m �°bytheir New Method Treatment. Ifeltanew life thrilltbeough `�`' CURED 0my nerves. We were united again and aro happyY: This wasner six years ago, Drs. K. & B. era scientitie epeoialists and I heartily reoommeine, them."" 0 R lid • We treat and cure Varicocele, Emissions, Nervous Debility, Seminal' SWeakness, Gleet, Stricture, Sy 5I lis. Unnatural Discharges, Self Abuse o o Kidney and Bladder Diseases. �,r 17 YEARS IN DETROIT, 200,000 CURED. NO RISK tl1 l�Ec� i� �/aa w�wwww i� ��Ps Are yon a victim? Have Son lost hope? Are yon coniempiatia mar a C'a6.6E wta ! nage? Has your Blood been diseased? Have you any weakness Oar (New Method Treatment will cure von. What it has done for others it will dre forou. essCONSULTATiON FREE. No matter who has treated you write for•an honest opinion freeire ®of Charge. Charges reasonable. BOOKS FREE—"The Golden Monitor" (illustrated), on® Diseases of Men. Inclose postage, 2 cents. Sealed. iiN0 NAMES USED WITHOUT WRITTEN CONSENT. PRI -12 VATE. No medicine sent C. O. D. No names on boxes or envel ops. verything confidential. Question list and cost of. Treat -S° No. 048 T.g' ®5.KENNEDY KE Gd SHELBYREE. H. Inns v > , POWDERS Cure SICK HEADACHE and Neuralgia in 20 MINUTES, also Coated Tongue Dizzi- ness, Biliousness, Pain in the Side, Constipation, Torpid Liver Bad Breath. to stay cured also regulate the bowels. VERY NICE TO TAKE. PRICE 25 CENTS AT DRUG STORES, NERVE. BEANS NERVE BEANO are a new dis- covery that cure the worst oases of Nervous Debility,i Lost Vigor an Failing Manho; restores the weakness of body or mind caused by over -work, or the errors or as - ceases of youth, This Remedy ale. solutely sures the most obstinate cases when all other TZEATMENTs have failed even to relieve,•old by drug. gists at $1 per package, or six for $5 or sent bymail on receipt of price by addressing THE JAMES MEDICINE CO.. Toronto, Ont. Write for pamphlet. Sold at Browning's Drug Store, Exeter er iN f rcr S A;q Tim BozE SOLDEvtRYWHnt 2$Q SCIATICA,•FtHEUMATISM 4lEilRALGiA 1A1N5 1N BACK O SIDE •Oft. ANVMUSCULAft,PAl1( • jigs IN USING l'i�EN Ci10L .. . PLAST Ft. FOR TWENTY-FIVE YEARS, DUNN'S BAKINO OWDER THE COOK'S BEST FRIEND LARGEST SALE Iitl CANADA. THS SECKT Of the marvelous -success of Burdock Blood Bitters lies in its specific curative power over every organ of the body. The Liver, the Blood, the Bowels, the Stomach, the Kidneys, the Skin, the Bladder, in fact, all parts of the human System are regulated, purified, and restored to perfect natural action by this medicine. e Thus it CURES alt diseases affecting these or other parts of the system, Dyspepsia, Constipa- tion, Bad Blood, Biliousness, Head- ache, Kidney and Litrer Coinplaint, Obstinate Humors, Old Sores, Scrofula, Rheumatism, Nervous or General Debility, and all irregularities of the system, caused by Bad Blood or clis� ordered action of the Stomach, Bowels, Liver or Kidneys. Thousands of testi-. monials warrant the assertion that B.B.B. is the PEST SPRING '• iMEDiCINI P..)'R. YOUNG OLD.