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HomeMy WebLinkAboutThe Exeter Times, 1895-10-17, Page 6XI X E BER I THE mar SUCCESSFUL Brom FOR MAN OR BEAST. certain la int °Picots and never blisters. Wad Pmetil Deicer KtNDfiLL'SSPAVINCORE. tu'atussabriiderosoa co., na, F0,214113, n dra -Pleese send me ono of vourl'r" oblige.jhavoused %great he eal Cyo ft u 1008.05,085 SPEL*140110gre with geed imeoessiit isair Wo 1 medicine, I method mare that bad 00 Von ar=irtriabijoittair cured her. I ciritursthdy, case. PoltilLL. KENDALL'SSPAVINCURE. 0.111TOtts, Igo., Apr 3, 42. Dr. at, a. Fined= QM t. $ ti.,1 nave used,several battles of your Dt 11X. dallpartn Cure, with maoh success, I hi it the beet Liniment I ever used. Hare re. loaf, one Curb, one ood. &Darla and killed r. 6.., *sawing. eve resommended It to 1117110t Ea rtends who are much pleased with a sieep Sr, nosperrr, 1.. RA B. O. Bos3P3. For Saleby all pruggisto, or address Dr. Ar..r. ICE.ND.J.X.Z CO.5(.P.6131-17's tiscuseu EON ra3.1s, VT. LEGAL. 1R. DICKSON, Barrister, Soli - e ottor ot Supreme Court, 5iots.:4 Public, Oeuveyenoer, Oommissiouer. <he Money to Loan. *nit:air; aason'slilook, Exeter, 11. COLLINS, a&rrister, Solicitor, Couveyancer, Etc, BXETER, OHP, OFFICE: Over O'Neirs Bauk. "E1LLIOT & ELLIOT, .1 14 Barristers, Solicitors, Notaries Public, Conveyancers dzo, 85c. tertIoney to Loan at Lowest Rates of Interest. OFFICE, - MAIN - STREET, EXETER. • !Sensual every Thursday. 3, V. ELLIOT. FREDERICK' ELLIOT. MEDICAL T w. BROWNING M. D., 11. 0 P. 8, Graduate Victoria liniveri;ty office and residence, Dom!rtion Lane a tory ,Eze ter DR. HINDMAN, coroner for tie County of Huron. Office, opp,site Carling Bros, store, Exeter. Dili& ROLLINS az AMOS. Separate Offices. Residence Rama aS former. Andrew qt. Offices: Spackman's Main at: Dr Rollime same as tormerly, north door; Dr. Amos" same building, south door, ,A. ROLLINS, MD.. T. A. AMOS. M. D Exeter, Onb AUCTIONEERS. THE SHOWMAN'S GTE LHARDY, LICENSED A. CC— . tioneer for the County' of Huron. Chargemoderate. Exeter la O. -El BO S SENBERRYt Goland La- - 4 • eenseitleauctiele-e`r-* sales conducted 11.141.1its: Satisfactionguaranteed, Charges .iarsiteriste. Hensel' P 0, Out: HENRY EILBER Licensed Ana. tioneer for the Counties of Huron and Miadlesex , Sales o au ducted at mod- erate rates. ettice, at Post-othee °red. ten On t . 19.111, VETERINARY. Tennent & Tennent EXETER, OMB. V radwitesof the Ontario Vetertnsry 031 OrrrinE : One ewer South ()frown Hall. riaristrosarresi THE WATERLOO MUTUAL FIRE INSURANCE() 0 . Established in 1863. HEAD OFFICE - WATERLOO, ONT. This Company has been over Twentv-efgh years in suceessful operation in 1Vestera Ontario, and continues to insu re egad nst loss or damage by Fire. Buildings, Merchandise 11,1anufactories and all other deseriptloa f insurable property. Intending insurers have the option of insurinaon the E'remium Notoor Cesh System. During the_ps st ten years this company has issued 57,093 Policies, covering property to the trocogg. $40,872,038; and paid in losses alone Assets. S176,100.00, consisting of Cash in Dank Government Depositand the unasses- sed Premium Notes on band and in force J.W.Watnee, M.D. Pretident; 0 M. TAYLOR, Secretary : B. IltkifilaS, Inspector. CliaS NELL. Agent for Exeter a nd vicinity r 00 's Cottoutoot COMPOUND. A recent disCovery by stool(' physician. Successfully used monthly by tkousancle of Ladies. Is the only perfectly safe and reliable medicine (Its - Covered. Beware of unprincipled druggists who otter inferior medicines In place of this. Asir for Cook's Cotton Boob c ompound, take no substi- tute, Or inclose nand 6 cents in postage in letter and we willsend, sealed, by return mall. Fullsealed particulars in plain envelope, to ladies only, 2 ;tamps. Address The Cook Company-, Windsor, Ont., Canada. Fer Sale in Exeter by J W Browning, •p135 35A PlaillkE or 'NE E1MOU3 coat' Ma 3011710 PAINS. TRY FOR AACKACHE BtlisMinos LUMBAGO titufam, Oat. rot MU3OU1,64 faiN8 AND AClia4 AV IN Oh . . The ptiblem of restoring to the world °rime 1 sad eternal beauty is solved by the redamptitaa rif the aoul.--Emerson. sign of the White Horse, A. chatty quadruped with very stiff leei, seed tipper ently, if you might judge by the disturbed aepect of hie inane and tail, under Wong electrio influenees--that wars the White Horse. He was woodenly eleotrified—if I may be alloWed the phrase—on two inehes of seagreen grass, and wedged very tightly into a sky of imprctbelele blae. A alight warping of the board, due to °Emetic inflaences, had. beheaded the White Horse, and the painter. as if in asitlaiPai4san of thet effect, had bestowed upon his °maw. tines a beckwerd look of feeble aatoni ment. Below the sign a low vrindow, with a comfortable red blind in it. Behind tlae window a room, with sanded floor and sawdust -stored epittoone, and heavy tables with. beery oirclea on them, and crossed clay pipee. About one of the tables half a dozen meresolemnly drinkiag and smoking, and telling gaost stories in broad Uptight. The gentleman in the battered white hat and hatcher tie was the proprietor of that light of nature the six -legged hone, and the employer and exhibitor of the apotted lady, The gentlemen in the fur cap, the rabbit -skin waistcoatasnd the red handkei. chief was the owner of the swing boats on the village green outside, as yet un,packed, and waiting for to -morrow's fair. The seedy man in seedy black, whose akin Was so curiously loose about the region of his eyes, was a professional sword.swalloiver, The gentleman with the red nose and bibulous eye, wherein much beer had left unquenched the light of native humor, was sole owuer of Bolko's unparalleled wax- work exhibition. The other two were showmen also, and recognisable anywhere. Five listened whilst the red -nosed maii with the bibulous eye talked, ITId only ghost as ever I knowed to haunt a showman was my brother Bill's owu private an' particler property,' the red -nosed man was saying; 'he was in the wax -work lbse afore me, like his father afore him, my brother Bill was, but he had a misforohin as led to his retirement.' 'Ah!' said the man in the rabbit -skin waistcoat, 'what was that?' 'EU) died,' said the red -nosed meat— 'scarlet fever. Leicester. Buried in the parish churchyard. Well—afore he died, mind you—he had a ghost of hie own, his perdaer, Joseph Turk. Reg'lar after busi- ness hours, it waa Joseph's habit to get as drunk as he knowed how to, and, simul- taneous, as a maxi might Bay, my brother took him home at olosin" time. But one night, Bill he doesn't turn up. Joeeph he starts alone, au' quite natural he falls into e olay-pit, and kills hiseelf. Well, theer's a inquest, theer's Bill to give evidence, theer's a verdiek,theer's a buryina and you'd ha' thought as it was done with, wouldn't you? My brother Bill he was a soft-'arted feelin' sort o' man, an' he took on a good deal over his pardner'e death. Sittinby hisself on the night arter te- buryitd, thinkin' about poor Joseida 'a.T.i 0. a sudden he feels a oisepy sort -of a chill i come over liiin; an' hie eyes is drored round I like to one side, an' there he sees him, in a pair o' cord trousere an' a velvatin jacket an' a billycook 'at, with a yeller Mind. keroher with blue spots on it round his neck, which was his reeler wear. Well, yon might ha' knocked my brother Bill down with his father,he was that crumpled up at it. "Willysum," says the ghost a- speakin' holler in his chest, like, "w'y didn't you fetch me 'ome," he says, "that fatal night?' My brother Bill says nothing, he was that knocked over. "Willy -um," says the gloat again, "it's my intent," he says, "for to haunt you reg'lar," he says "every night at twelve." And with teat he varnishes. Well, be comes next night, an' next night, an' next night, and my brother Bill gets that weak an' skeered he didn't think he'd last long. So he comes to me an' be tells me all about it. "Why, Bill," I says, "it's a forchin for you. ' "What d'ye mean ?" he says. "Why," I says, "exhibit him," I says, "to any scientific speritualist as wants to see a real boner-fldy ghoat," I says. "Theer's a mine o' money in it." Well, Bill he take a my advice, an' he might ha' died a Rothehile if Joseph hadn't took offence at it an' left off visitin' of him.' 'I can see,Mr. Bolko,' said the seedy man in seedy black, 'that you're a sceptic. 'A what?' asked the red -nosed man. 'An unbeliever,' said the other. '.4 m 1?' said the red -nosed man. 'P'raps I am.' He took up his pot and nodded round, 'My respects, gentlemen.' Then, having emptied the vessel of its contents, he rose, and said with hoarse solemnity, 'Them as doubta my tale can doubt it. Maybe I have my doubts about it. Never mind. ,But there's a moral in it—which is this : If any showman has a ghost in the family as can at all be relied upon to turn up reg'arl,theer's a pot o' money in it. Good afternoon, gentlemen." The sceptic departed and the five believers remained behind. ' Comin' back,'aaid the man in the rabbit - akin waistcoat, 'to wot we wos a -Deakin' about—it's my belief, look you, as Sol Variey's haunted.' The man in seedy black said that it stood to reason. 'Look 'ere,' said the rabbit -akin waist- coat. ' When did poor Sol begin to turn that pale an' queer? When did he begin to sit an' stare at nothin' for a, hour ata time, an' talk when there was nobody to teak to? Why, when his gell died. When ole? Why, not at all.' '01 course not,' said the sword,swel- lower. 'An' as for them,' aaid the rabbit -skin waistcoat, 'as talks about a gell like that basin' bolted along of Sol's man Jim, why, it's readnees an' t it? Now, I erste anybody 'ert Would ;be ha' looked at Sol's rnan Jim? Would she ha' spoke a Moil word to him 'oept as a young lady might? 1 pet it to you, gents. Is it likely 7' Nobody thought it likely in the least, 'Very well, then. If you wants wrong talk about a young woman, heti salve cheap enough in tbe purfession an' out of it. Bat to talk about a young /ady like that boltin' with a oove like Sol's man Jim, and Sol pre Usual' of her to be dead, why it's enough to Writ a man's drink hacid ozi his stomach to listen to it, ain't it?' 4 NoW, I'll tell you something,' said the man in the battered white hat. 'I've sat quiet an I've heard all side, I didn't say nothing while 13olko was 'ere, 'datum I don't want none of le chaff, which he' t too ready with. Gentleman alt, I've seen her!' The four gathered near him with dolma faces. ' Last night aa ever was, I eeen her,' he OST. again. MO leadie' out the mei for exereige—xteer midnight 11 ivau—ed writ round by r set' ,vaggis- An', atrilce Me dead, but seen her tette, AS white as chalk, a-lookin` in at Sore winder, an' her glides dome from it without so innels tse tauchin' a foot on the ground, an passee me with, no more noise then a bat ud make. I ain't eaey frightened, but I wise frighten- ed then, liat I looked arter her an' aeon her melt—regler melt away,' The inan'a face, voice, gesture, were euough to etesup hie narretive with strong reality, His hearers looked from one to the other, eweeitruok,aud,in spite of the broad daylight, gathered closer. Before the word was spoken they drew their heu.de apert, and reamed their pipes and beer with a transparent effort to seem unconcerned. Solomon Varley atoodat the door looking with haggard eyes from face to face. His eountenanoe was piste and drewn, and, though his lipe moved, no sound ea.me from them. He lurehed a little, like a drunken man, and set his hand to his forehead. Next, looking vadantlyabou:t hi tn,b e turned away and aought the street. The five men arose and peered after him through the bow window. He an't long for this world', said one. Poor old Sol r No,' said another. 'He's had his call, poor Sol has—evident.' Solomon Varley armed the Green slow- ly, with downward eyes and head, noticing no man, though most looks were turned to him with sympathy or curiosity. He reached. the house on Iyheels, whioh, like himself, looked leaa prosperous and tidy than of old, though but two mouths had gone by since it shone in all the splendour of new paiut, and Sol himself went upright and happy. Mrs. Varley sat there in a. black dress, se wing,and looked up sadly but kindly as her huaband entered. Sol closed the little door, and took down a nautical - looking jacket which hung behind it. From the pocket of this garment he drew a soiled letter, which he bore to the window and read over. It had no date, and was written in a sprawling hand. 'Sir,' it ran, this is written with great grief to tell you that your daughter is dead. Before she died she told me to rite to you; but I minuet rite, and a friend rites this for me. She told me to say thee she found out hefour it waa too late that the man she ran away with was ts villan, and lei t him. I am to say again, before it was too late. She would have come home to you, but she was ashaymed. She is dead, and she thought you would like to know it, because it would ease your mind. Yours truly, MARTHA WOOLLEY. S. She sent all love and blessings before she died. She praid youl to forgive her, and praid for you night and day.' The letter bore the Bristol post -mark, and had been delivered whilst Solomon was in that town. 71e had appealed to the police to discover the writer'and Martha Woolley was searched for but in vain. There was some comfort in the ill -spelled letter, bitter as it was, and that comfort Solomon laid to his sore heart every hour of the day, and thanked God for it. What is it, Sol dear?' eaid his wife, rising, and putting her brown arm. about his neck. Don't brood over it my poor Sol, ieee's ' I a" sleteaatei e. Her eyes were thick with tears as she spoke, but she controlled them resolutely and would not let them. fall. 'She's better off than livid with a broken heart, Sol; better off,' said the mother. You're a good wife, my dear' ' said Sol hoarsely and wearily 'A good wife. Yee, she's better off. But it'd be somethin' if we only knowed where her grave was, my dear, wouldn't it?' The simple question epoke of such despair to the wife's heart that her tears would have way. She drew his head to her breast and swayed it to and fro as though he were a child. Poor Sol, poor dear Sol! Our time ain'D long, my dear. We shall soon see the poor broken-hearted thing again, Sol. If she'd come back, she'd never ha' heard a bitter word from us, Sol, would she? Never a bitter word. Never a bitter word. Never a bitter word.' She went over the phrase again and again, as though there were comfort in it, and still held the bowed head to her -.vilely breast as though it were a child's. 'Such a child l' said Sol, a minute or two later, seated with heavily dependent arms betweea his knees, as though hie hands bore a weight too great for his strength, and with eyes fixed on the floor. 'Such a child, rosy an' pretty, two months back ! An' now aa white as snow—as white e.s snow r 'Sol cried his wife with a ghostly face. 'Ay,' said he, looking at her with lack. lustre eyes, 'as white as snow. As white as snow. 'Sol V cried his wife again. , 'My darliug,' said Sol, stretching out one heavy hand nervelessly and laying it on her shoulder, see her poor dear dead face last night at the winder. I've seen it three nights runnin'. It's my call. You'll be lonely when I'm gone. You've been a good wife, Sarah, an' rm,grieved to leave you. But I've had the call. His nerveless hand dropped down again as if it held a weight too heavy for his strength. His wife knelt before him, looking in his face. A timid knock came to the door, but neither heard it. It was repeated a little louder, and Mrs. Varley, rising, opened the door with a soream. 'Don't be put out, 'Mains,' said a voice outside. 'Might I come in? Is master theer ?' 'Come in,' said Mrs. Varley faintly ; and Jim entered,ragged, shoeless, hollow-eyed, pale, bearded with a bristly beard of two months' growth—a man foredone. swore,' said Jim, 'as I'd find her if faltered her to the world's end. I faltered her and found her, an' she slipped me, an' I follered her again and I frittered her on, an' on, an' on,' again, two looked at him with such awful faces thathe paused, 'Did ye get any news of her ever l' he asked after a while, Solomon still held the letter in his hands. That come,' he said, a month ago.' Jim spelled it through, and then, return- ing it to the broken and crumpled envelope, held it while he eptike. 'No more news than this r -- 4 Never a word,' said Solomon, 'Did you find where she was buried, master?' Sol shook his head. 'We tried,' said Mrs. Varley, 'every. where, I3ut the letter didn't even tell us where she died,' Master,' said Jim, 'I've walked a mat. ter of a thousand mile. I'm deed beat. If you please, misfile, I ehould like the things I left. I'm very bad off for a ohange.' Mrs. Vetley poured out a eau of water into e. washing basin, set oub goals and towels and a comb, then produced a bundle of olothes from a looker. 'You oan get a wash, James, and change,' she said, crying silently the while, 'and. I'll get you something to eat.' Saying this, she left the house, aud Jim, laying down the letter, began with labor- ed. slowness to divest himself of a' very tattered shirt. He paused suddenly in the act of drawing it over his head, 'What's this I hears about a ghosts master?' Solomon started and. stared at him, '1 meets Tom Ileoltett tvosive101110 behind, an' he says you've seen a ghost, he says. That's what .he says. "Your master's haunted." ' Solomon rose with outatretolied hands. 'Hee anybody seen it besides me?' • 'Have you seen it, master oried jinn slipping the garment back again. 'Three times,' said Solomon with awe- struck taste. When r oried im. 'Where 1' 'Allays at midnight,' answered Solomon, oat that little winder,—pale, an' thin, sal' white—svhite assnow.' 'When ? when ?cried Jim again. 'Last eaid Solomon, last night. For the third time. It's my oall, Jim. I she'u't be here winch longer. 1 shell feller my poor broken hearted child.' 'What?' oried Jim, in a voice which would hese been e roar but for his feeble. nese, 'You've seen her three times, an' never spoke to her?' Solomon could only loek ab him in grief struok wonder. 'Why, I found out the gell as wrote this letter. Sewed boot Uppers; for a tic id, she did. Her it was what fired the bullet. But who me.kes it, do you think ? Who makes it, maeter said Solomon, trembling from head to foot, 'Jim l'—warning and entreaty mingled in the tone. 'Master,' eays Jim 'if what I says ain't true, you take a pitAfork out of the wag. gin outside and run me through with ib. finds the gell as wrote this letter, What ms.lees me find her ? 'Cos I'm travellin' to aearoh for Miss Virginia, and 'coa I've swore as sure as Heaven an' earth I'll feller her to the world's end, • Miss Virginia had been a livin' with her, au' one day her says to her : "A. dear friend o' mine is dead. I cen't write." Her says, "You write for me an' Pit tell you what to say." And then her writes this letter. Then Miss Virginia ketches sight o' mman' livin' very hard, but quite respectable. On I fellers —tracks her—finds her—loses her—tracks her again, an' fellers on again.' Solomon was on hie knees, and the tears were dripping through his fingers, dripping thickly we the floor. 'Such a face, Jin r he moaned ; 'that wild an' worn an' pale 1 Oh, Virgie 1 Vir- gie!' 'Master , ' said Jim, 'I've had word of her all along. Now she's took rail, an' I've htsd to walk ; an' now her's,slipped me,but I've took up the track again, an at last we've found her.' The tears were coursing down Jim's face too,and washing out brown channels in the gray dust whioh covered it. 'Nota word to the missis, not a word,' said Jim. 'Her% °eine again to -night to look at you. That's it,' said the valiant, tender-hearted scarecrow, shaking with sobs, 'poor bleedin' heart ! Just wants to see you, like, as often as her fear'll let her.' 'May I come in ?' mid. Mrs, Varley,tapping at the door, 'Not yet, ma'am,if you please,' said Jim, bolting the door with great haste ; o.nd,atill sobbing and crying, he proceeded to his ablutions, mad having conquered hie tears Zia d'aaaged ' 'end r gain. d again warned. his master to suenue,ne Mrs. Varley and sat down to a prodigious meal under the shade of the house outside. Solomon went feverishly to work to help the 'nen who were arrangiog the vane and putting up the canvas in readiness for the morrow, and Jim kept sedulously out of Mrs. Var.ey'a way. Before nightfall he limped away, unrecognised by any of his ancient comrades, whom be had dodged all afternoon like a stage villain, unintention- ally inviting inspection. The night grew, and Solomon sat with a wildly beating heart in the little house on wheels. Mrs.. Varley had retired to the bedroom partitioned off at one end of the structure and there, by the light of a little lamp, spelled through the Peedms in her i'rayer hook. Many and many a line she went through half mechanicady, and the words had no meaning for her. At length the slow forefinger, rough with the needle, paused at these words, 'As for me, I am poor and in misery : baste Thee unto me, 0 God.' She bowed her head and wept above the line. And what was that? A cry outside that thrilled her to the soul— an answering voice within which called her child by usane—the noise of a door that opened suddenly—the voice again that called her child by naine. Flurrying to the main ehs.mber of the homes on wheels, she saw Jim beyond the open door with a. drooping figure in his arms. But. it was her husbaud's voice which called upon her ohild—it was her child and his who lay worn and pallid,but alive, in those protect- ing arms. Solomon Varley that night retired from business. In the next week's Era his un- rivalled zoological collection was advertized and in a week it had passed to other hands. Little Virgie's cheeks are abloom again long since, and little Virgie is a happy wife and mother. I could transport myself by train and road in four hours and a half to that quiet spot in Worcestershire in which Sol Varley and his wife en ley the otium cum dignitate of their simple lives. I know a well.to-do jobniaster in a neighboring town who answers to the name of Jim, and has been given up by all the eligible women in his own station of life for four miles round as an iecorrigible bachelor ; and sometimes in Regent -street or Piceadilly I meet a handsome and distinguished -looking man, who limps a little in his gait from art illaset broken leg, the result of an encounter with that same jobmaster when the two met together by accident about a year after the events related in this story. Most of Mr. Verschoyle's friends are under the impres- sion that he received this injury whilat out hunting. Jim hearing this once on a time nodded sternly, and remarked, with a look of enigma on him, that it happened a, year after the hunt was over; and being preffeed for information, he declined to say another word. [TEE END.) When Baby ?Mei felk, we cave her Cattail& When shewaa a Child, she orital for Carrtorfa. When she became Miss, she clung to Castorla, When she had claidren,sibassave them oastoriti • . • • 'e iki Bougnt and Sold. It is said that Mrs. De 'Riche bought her husband. Yes. I heard De Riche had been sold. Children Cr' Thr Pitcher's Castorie, NLY A IfILLION. OHAPTER I. TEE ORRAT MR, CAWLEY. "Let me get A million and I shall be quite happy." That was poor Samuel Cawley's oryr Poor ?—yes, you will under- stand presently ; he bad the naillion when he died, tie had a moderately comfortable start ia the world, thenks to the industry of his father, who left him a small eteady. going business and the requisite knowledge to carry it on successfally. Samuel Cawley did oarry it on seoceeefully, and various politioal and commercial events operating In his favour enabled him to transform his moderate business into an extensive one. He was devoted to his work, and having the quickness to use the lucky events of the day advantageously, he found himself in a few years at the head of an eatablieh- ment into whioh money seemed to flow of its own sweet will. At first he was humbly grateful, then he became excited, and next the craving to become a millionaire seized him. That craving fairly mastered him ; it was the mainepring of his every aot and thought ; he had no hope, no eare—alnaost no religion, above or outside Oust desire to posseas a million. Everything prospered with him and his ambition was realised. One morning he found that he possessed a million ; and, singular as it may seem, he closed his books with a sigh of relief, Bathe fied But he was somewhat puzzled to discover efter the first few days, which were occupied in self-congratulations, that he was not quite happy. TheTh was something he wanted still, and what that something was he did not know. He opened his eyea, as it were, for the first time upon life outside his ledger. He had never had any real experience of youth,had never known play as a boy,or sport 0.8 8. young man : the world of business hadao completely absorbed him, that the world of pleasure was unknown to him. Being still young—just turued forty —he determined to explore this strange world in search of that something which he still required to make him happy. He left his business to take care of itself; that is, he spent a couple of hours daily in his office instead of ten or more as he had done formerly; and the two hours were sufficient to keep everything straight. He took a large house in the West End; he purchased an old mansion in Sussex with about a thousand %area attached,and e.bun d- antshootin g an d fiehingalso—un fortunately, not having, had any training irt these sports, they afforded him no enjoyment. However they would please his friends. The appointineats of his town and country residences were perfect—that is, as perfect as his servants would permit them to be. The cooking—when the cook was in good humor—was excellent ; the wines were the best that money could obtain. Mr. Samuel Cawley waa surrounded by troops of friende; . Wan pot up at half a dozen blackballed by two—much to his astonishment—and accepted by the others; he found himself, in short, courted on all hands as a man of sterling worth—as a man whom it waa a, privilege to know. He was amazed by his own popularity ; he had never suspected that he possessed the qualities requisite to shine in society, until he found himself in society and shining with all the brilliancy of a newly discover- ed planet. All this was very agreeable. After he had got over the awkwardness of his first appearance he began to enjoy himself ; he began to think this world cf amusement a very good world indeed, and the people in it a kindly and sensible people with few prejudices compare.tively spea:king, and most ready to reoognize native talent—for had they not recognized him? He was the hero of the hour, and he was highly de. lighted to recognize himself in that char- acter ; ladies admired his taste in art (his portrait by an R. A. was eoon in the Aca- demy), and spoke of Ms sympathetic nature; gentlemen praised his possessions, and professed the most kindly envy of the gifts which Nature and Fortune had be- stowed upon him. Cawley was gratified exceedingly ; but he never thoroughly understood what a great man he was until at a large dinner party (for which he pro- vided) his health was proposed. Then he saw himself in his true colours, He was not only a successful man (cheers— why; nobody kaew, for there was nothing novel or avriking in the observation; probably it was only meant as a sign of the universal worship of success); but he was a mar: endowed with the sublime philosophy which could recognise that there was some- thing nobler in the world. than mere success in money -getting (a bit of humbug cordially appreciated, and therefore cheered); a man who said to himself —aEnough,I shall enjoy life, and I shall help others to enjoy life,as we are doiug at this moment,thanks to our generous host (more cheers). To what be ttar, to what nobler purpose could a man devote himself? (hear,hear—quitejuatifiable this time), He was rendering a great naoral service to the world, and the speaker did not doubt that the world looking on— espeoiallS: the poorer classes, who were not privileged to share in these magnificent hospitalities—would learn a valuable lesson (still more cheers). In the glorious roll of British benefactors of their species the name of Samuel Cawley would go down to posterity as one of the brightest examples of how a true gentlemen should live and help others to live, etc., etc., etc., and more and more cheers as the ohampagoe circulated. It was quite settled that he was a great man who ought to live for ever in the flesh, but who assuredly would live for ever in the grateful memory of posterity. Cawley was not a fool ; and, tumbling into his bed in the small hours of the morning, he said to himself, 'That is very nice ; bat of course we must take it all with large proportione of salt.' Nevertheless, he swallowed a barge quantity of what was very nice without any salt at all, and he was not hi the least aware of the mistake. He did do good, though he subscribed liberally to miscellaneous charities ; ho helped many a poor wretch out of monetary sorapes (life or death to the wretch, but nothing at all to him, beyond the trouble a filling up a cheque) ; and he did not even turn 'RFT Daok, coop poor relations, Ile had a troop of petisitlfiL 130 fie !TO A Weak. nem : he liked his benevolence to be reeog- nised. lie professed. with becoming frank- nesohat he did not virant thanks ; he Was ohly too glad when a fewipecoda could help anybody at the same timeihe liked peeple to be grateful. He liked to hear his awn praises sung, and was In - alined ta look diseoutentedly ripen those delta who atieepted, his disolaittiere literally and remained. silent. Ho would tO particular friends, report what he had been obliged to do for poor So -and', lamenting ell the time that So-and.so should have been ee unfortunate as to require his belp,whooh he gave ea cheer fully or rather willingly, as So.ancl.so was such a deserving fellowansly rather careless and extravagant. So-and-so, in fact, would never "get on," unless he altered his ways and elated teicardiug to Mr. Cawley's instructions. But, poor fellow, he was a good creature, and the great Mr. Cawley felt obliged to give him the money to help hiro over his present strait, although Mr. Cawley fully expected that he would have to do the same thing again in a very shore time, Thia oonfidence was repeated, in eon- fidenoe of oeuvre, to Mr. Cawley'a visitors, muoix to that gentleman's glorification, whilst poor So -and we found himself pre. sently looked upon wit;i pitying eyes; by everybody, heard the goodness; of Kr. Cawley hummed in his ears, until he be- came oonaelous that people were shrinking from him the more they buzzed round the millionaire, and he felt ready to ouree Cawley instead of regarding him with hones* gratitude. That was Cawley's weakness; he had. found the flourish of his cheque-book appar- ently such a paten t"open aesame" to people's homes and hearts, that, whilst) teally _desirous of ectiag kindiy, he lost all sense of the necessity for the generous thought which is even more essential in the com- potation of kindness than the free hand ; the one being the product of a good heart, the other of good fortune. ero BE CONTINUED BE EASY! Use Sunlight Soa 6 Cents Twin Bar Easiest Soap in. the World. It does all the work; you. Don't `have to Rub or Scrub. Saves your clothes wonderfully too, It's So Pure. Por every 12 tvappas 1 D 1.Books for tzenytztog ino.s.,. Ltd., 23 Scott St., Toronto, Wrappers a useful paper -bound book will be sent. Best Food For Children? is worthy every parent's study; not only what they can eat, but what gives the rnost nourishment. No children are better, and most for eating ed food. ever, food is with the ful new are worse, lard -cook. If, how - t heir prepare health. vegetable shortening, COTTOLENE instead of lard, they can eat free- ly of the best food without danger to the digestive organs. You can easily verify this by a fair trial of Cottolene, 8°131n rgoVrt,Paua Made only by The DI.K.Fairbank Company, Wellington and. Ann Ste., HIONTRVAL NERVE BEANS ifratv-n B3A1,1 Are a neve 415, corery that oUre the worst Dater. oi Nervous Debility, Lost Vigor itud Failing Manhood; restores the vrealmess of body or mind caused by over -work, or the errors ore: - ceases of youth. This Remedy eh,' aolutely cures the most obstinate cases when all other rataTMENTS have failed event° relieve. Sold bydrug, gists at SI per package, or sir for nor sent by mail on receipt of price by addressing TER JAMES mEDIcurr 00, Toronre, On. Write tar pamphier ge.1,1 Sold at Browninit's Drug Store, Exeteri tOikUA IN Fk FF' GENTLEMEN FIND PALMO TAR, SOAP EXCELLENT IT CLEANSES THE SCALP, RELIEVES THE DRYNESS AND SO PREVENTS HAIR FALLING OUT, Bre CAKt5 , Put UP HAtios0MI-1 2 5 t "rho most prompt pleasant and per - feet cute for Gong is, Ceids. Asthma, Bronchitis, Hoarseness, Sore Throat, Croup, Whooping Cough, Quinsy, Pain in the Chest and all Throat, IBronchial and Lung Diseases. The healing anti -consumptive virtues of the Norway Pine are con:ma:tea in this medicine with Wild Cherry and other pectoral Herbs and BalSattIS to nin.ke a true specific for all forms of disease originating from colds. $1 es.,11~1.4401iit4e1TWVOAto Price 25C. and SOC. A'", When Sarah Bernhardt goes shopping she buys everything wholesale. Ten or twenty bonnets will sometimes be ordered at a time. tessesatereeeesaselesSifriega a" 'Seri; a 'attaBigi• ewe. eMisaireaseteafteaVaslatesei 2 0, WEE MEN CURED STARTLING FACTS FOR DISEASED VICTIMS. CURES GUARANTEED OR NO PAY I AREYOU 9 11','ietr:iu8irfnaleitisPiiiTict1Z;:::1E:Ltl;bilitIV. ti;:t12,krnalficmktro: ores sunken, red and sitatreh; gen lace; dasaine arid nighi losses; restless; haggard looking; viclak hack; bone pains; brut lose; ulcers; sore throat; varicocele; deposit in urine and drains ot stool; diarustfal; want of confidence; lack a eaerge and streugth.— WE* OAIV QUZ YOU RESTORED TO MANHOOD BY DRS, K. K. JOHN A. MANL1N. SOHN A. MANLIN..:. CRto. POW,ERS. CHAS. POMMEL ASPOSLE OiltRATIAZZIT. ArRiata .41tRATiiirt8.a. BErons 331g80 TisilArtatasiT. NO NAMES OR TESTIMONIALS U8E-0 WITHOUT WRITTEN CONiEfel. John A. Wallin pays:' -"I was one of the countless via-. time of early ignorance commenced at 10 years of age. I tried eevou medical striae and spent avoa without avail gave up in. deevair. The drains on my systrin were weakening my inielleot as well as my Sexual end physical life. 10tThrother advised me as80 last resort to consult Drs. Kennedy & &ream . I commenced their New Method Treatment ancl inc few vreeits was a new man, withnow life and ambition. Thie was four years ago, and now 1 am married and happy. 1 recunimend these reliable specialists to all my afflicted fellowmen." CURES GUARANTEED OR NO PAY.— CONFIDENTAL. "The vices of early boyhood laid the foundation of mY ruin. Later on a "gay life" min exposure to blood di- seases completed the wreck. I had alt the esmotorns of Nervous Deliiiity—ininkett oyez, einiseions, drain in urine, nervousnese, weak back, etc. Syphilis ceased my heir to 1 all out, hno pahoa, u1com oa oth ansI an tongue, blotches on body, etc,. I thank Clod I tried Drs, Kennedy & Kergan. They restored, me to health, vigor and happiness." CRAB. POWERS. VARICOCELE, EMISSIONS Alsii) 1M POTENCY CURED. Syphilis, Emissions Mimed% Cured. 1"...6011 or We treat and cure Varicocele, Emissions, Nervous .Debility, Seminal Weakness, Gleel, Stricture, SyPhilis, Unnatural Discharges, Self Abuse, kidney and Bladder Diseases, • 27 'YEARS IN DETROIT. 200,000 CURED. NO IIIISK• READER! Are yonia viethomfax. you kat horuttre you eonronyatill mar.. Ow New Method Teeetaatt'livial qvagellt, for"otgirr ANZtarAr coNSULTABOI,FFIE NO rigor elm hp& treate71 llout4verife ferret hollet oninioti ere° ape, Mt tit, of Olinda f)h rises ;Atone e. Se KS T eldeneloditor" ilinstrateda, on Diseaseset Miele prie pos eein N NAM$ US WITH UT WRITTEN 1ONSENT, P RI- Sa !eine hoot g. Q. D. No tidittieti thXon or envoi - yMflconfladeriVal. CtItcettori Het Oost of To -et - 0 KitiGAN No. 140 SHELBY 57T. ' DETROIT, MICH. 37 4tT4.7,0"' \re'rlinT6, liak' 4"