HomeMy WebLinkAboutThe Wingham Times, 1912-09-12, Page 7TRE WINGIIAM TIMES, SEPTEMBER 12 1912
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BY MRS, M. J. HOLM .S .311, •...
.huller of "For a 'Woynan's Sake," "Love's Triumph," it::
soma
m•
•.Purifies! by Suffering," " A Grass Widow," :::
"Wonsan Against Woman," Ete,
••.;
' sits F: etre: s•• leu.tstrttstuttsssssessssssa•:
e ought not to spew. 0..,,
the s• ofa in the parlor ,while ltfaggle Why didn't I see it before, or whys
}cad to hien from books which he has not Madam Conway told nee the
lusted, partly for the purpose of truth? She at least has deceived.
inuring ,himself, and more for the „
sake of benefiting her and improv- mo, and with a feeling of keen •lis-
• turn oth- appointm�'nt he continued to pace
her taste for literature, At
ngthe tfoor, ono moment r lvin
2 o t CSO. O:
, t
g
b times ho would tell her a ifs leave Hillsdale at onto, and again
home beyond the sea, and Maggie, thinking how impossible it was to
listening to hien while he described tear himself away.
It , airy halls, its noble parks, its Arthur Carrollton was a perfectly
shaded walks and musical fountains, honorable man, and once assured of
Would sometimes wish aloud that she Maggie's engagement, he would net.W
knight one cloy see, that spot which ther by word or deed do aught to
Ecemed to her tio
ch like paradise. o
which the most tastIdious lover
He wished so, too, and could object, and Henry Warner's
when with half-closed eyes,
, his rights were as safe with him as with
)Hind Was wandering amid' the scenes the truest of friends. But was Mag-
of his youth, he saw at his side a gee really engaged? Might there not
queenly tenure, with features like be some mistake? Iie hoped so at
those of Margie inner, who each - least, and. alternating between hope
day was stealing more and more in- and fear, he waited impatiently the
to his heart, where love for other return of Maggio, who, with each
than his nearest friends had never thought of losing her, seemed ten -
before found entrance. She had fold dearer to -him than she had ever
many faults, he knew, but these he been before; and when at last she
possessed both the will and the pow- came bounding in, he could scarcely
•er to correct, and as day after day refrain from, folding her in his arms,
she sat reading at his side,he watched and asking of her to think again ere
her bright, animated face, thinking she gave another than himself the
what a splendid woman, she would right of calling her his bride. But
make, and wondering it an Ameri- she is not mine, he thought, and so
•can rose • like her would bear trans- he merely took her cold hands with -
:planting to English soil. in his own, rubbing them until they
, Very complacently Madam Conway were warn% Then seating himself by
looked on, reading aright the admir-
ation whish Arthur Carrollton
'evinced for Margaret, who in turn
was fur from being uninterested in
+him. Anna .1eftrey, too, watched
them jealously, pdndet'ing in her
own mind some means by which she
could, if possible, annoy Margaret.
Clad she known how far matters had
gone with Henry Warner, she would
unhesitatingly have told it to Arth-
rr Carrollton; but so quietly had the
affair been teenaged that she knew,
Itomparatively but little. This little,
,however, she determined to tell him,
together with any embellishments
the might see nt to use; Accordingly,
one aftennoon,when ho had been there
two months or more,and Maggie had
gone with her grandmother to ride,
the went down to the parlor under
pretense of getting a book to read.
Ile was much better now, but, feel-
ing somewhat fatigued from a walk
he had taken in the yard, he was re-
clining upon a sofa. Loaning over the
rocking -chair which stood near by,
Anna inspired for his health, ' and
then asked how long since ho had
heard from home.
He liked to talk of England, and
as there was nothing to him partic-
Warty disagreeable in Anna Jeffrey,
be bade her be seated. Very willing-
ly she complied with his request
and after talking awhile of Eng-
land, announced her intention of re-
turning home the last of March.
1'My aunt prefers remaining with
Madan! Conway, but I dont like
kmerira," said she, "and I often
Wonder why I ant hero."
"1 supposed you tame to be with
Your aunt, who, I am told, has
been to you a second mother," an-
rwcred Mr. Carrollton, and Anna
replied: "You are right. She could
not be easy until she got me here,
where I !snow I am not wanted; at
least one would be glad to have m•
leave."
Mr. Carrollton looked inquiringly
pit her, nnd Anna continued: "I ful-
ly supposed I was to l)e a compan-
ion for Margaret; but instead of
that she treats me with the Utmost
toolness, mak"ing Ise feel keenly my
position as a dependent."
"That does not seem at all like
Maggie," laid Mr. Carrollton, and
With a meaning smile far more ex-
pressive than words, Anna answered:
"She may not always be alike, but;lush! don't I hear bells?" and she
tan to the window, saying as she
?esumed her seat: "1 thought they
had tome. but 1 was mistaken. I
!dare say Maggie has coaxed her
grandmother to Olive by the poster-
! lice, thinking thele might bo .alet-
ter from henry 1Vainer."
Her manner affected Mr. Carroll-
ton pence,a ibly, but he made no re-
ply; Mand Anna asked "if be know
Mr. Warner?"
r••e ,r
' I saw him Mn 11 ,uGc tt•, 1 be-
lieve," he said, mrd Annn continued:
"Do you think hint a sul.able hus-
band for a girl like Maggie?"
There was deep flush o
n Arthur
Carrollton's cheek, and bis lips were
whiter than their wont as he nes-
secret: "1 know nothing of him, nei-
ther did I tempt se "Miss Miller ever
thought of hila for a. husband,"
"1 know she did at one time,"
said his tormentor, turning the
leaves of her book, with will -feign-
ed indifference. "It was n.,1 any
secret, or I 'should not spunk of ittot
cow se, Madan! Conway wes gleu'ly
opposed to it. ton. and forbnthe her
writing to him, b1 t how the matter
is now, 1 do not positively !now,
though I am qui e sure they are en-
. gaged."
"Isn't it very close he e? Will you
please to 01 en the hall door?" vow
Mr. Carrollton, suddenly peeling ler
breath; and, sats -fed with her a ore,
Anna did as d, si: ed, and' then It ft
him deo.
"Maggie engc•ged!" he exddnimt't,
"engaged. • when 1 wes hoping 1 a•;n
her for myself!" and a sharp pale
shot through h's heart as he
thought of giving to n.nother the
beautiful girl who had groan ea in-
to his lave. r I n Ind 1 [,
learned it in ttme " he enntinu.1(1,
hurriedly welt in the floor, '•Irnew
it Ire 1 had done Henry Waree• a
wrcitg by telling her of my leve,
and abking her to Ao with me to
My English home. which will he dos-
plate without her. ihis„is why sim
repulsed me in the woods. She 'mete
- • • • • • • leve to her.
her side upon the sofa, he spoke of
her ride, asking casually if she call-
ed at the postofnce.
"No, we did not drive that way,'I
she answered, readily, adding that
the postoflrco had few attractions
for her now, as no one wrote to her
save Theo. -
Sho evidently spoke the truth, and
with a feeling of relief Mr. Carroll-
ton thought that poesibly Miss Jah
troy plight have been mistaken; but
he would know at all hazards, even
though he ran the risk of being
thought extremely rude. According-
ly, that evening, after Mrs. Jeffrey
and Anna had retired to their room,
and while Madam Conway was giv-
ing
iving some household directions in
the kitchen, he asked her to come
and sit by hien lie he lay upon the
sofa, }thyself placing her chair
where the lamplight would fall fully
upon her face and reveal its every
oxpresslon. Closing the piano, she
complied with his request, and then
awaited in silence for what he was
to say.
"Maggie," he began, "you may
think me bold, but there is some-
thing I very Hutch wish to know,
"rand which you, if you choose, can
tell ale. -L'ronm what I have heard,
T amu led to think you are engaged.
Will you tell me if this is true.?"
The bright color faded out of
Maggie's cheek, while her eyes grew
darker than before, and still she dici
not speak. Not that she was angry
with hitt for asking her that ques-
tion; but because the answer, which,
if Made at all, 1114151 be yes, was
hard to utter. And yet why should
she hesitate to tell him the truth
at once?
Alas, for thee, Maggie Miller! The
fancied love you feel for Henry War-
ner is fading fast away. Arthur
Carrollton is a dangerous .rival, and
even now you cannot meet the
glance of Ms expressive eyes without
a blush! . Your better judgment ac-
knowledge his superiority to Henry
long ago, and now itr your heart;
there is, room for none save him.
"Maggie," he said, again stretch-
ing out his hand to take the unre-
sisting ono which lay upon her lap, ,
"you need not make me other ante(
wer save that so plainly written on;
your Lace. You are engaged, and
tray Heaven's blessing attend both i
you and yours."
At this moment Madam Conway
appeared, and, fearing her inability:
to control her, feelings longer, Mag-:
gie precipitately left the room. Go- •
ing to her chamber, she burst into a
passionate lit of wedping, one mo-'
hent blaming Mr. Carrollton for
having learned her secret, and the
next chiding herself forst wishing to
withhold from him a knowledge of
her engagement.
"Itis that I love 18 nota O C Henry less, '
I ant sure," she thought, 1 -
and, !1, aY
Ing her head Upon for pillow, •she
recalled everything which had passed.
Between herself and her afffanced •
husband, trying to bring
back the
olden happiness with which she had;
lietened to ifs words of love. But:
It wopild not .come; there was a bar -f
vier in the Way. Arthur Carrollton.
yielding her to another."
deeper, more abeorbing Uric. With y g
this knossledge, too, there came the For a ,foment Madam Conway
thought that Arthur Carrollton had I hesitated: but, thinking the carve de -
once loved her, and but for the en- moulded her speaking, she rued:
gugement now so much regretted, he
would etre this have told her so. But
it w•tut too late! too lute! HIe would
meter feel toward her again as ho once
had 'felt, and bitter tears she shed
as she contemplated the fast coining
future, wben Arthur Carrollton
would be gone, or, shuddering,
thought of the time When Henry
Wt►rner wvoeld return to claim her
promise.
"1 cannot, cannot marry hiku,"
she cried, •"until I've torn that oth-
er huago from my heart," and then
for many clays she strove to recall
the olden love in vain• for, planted
on the sandy soil of childhood as it
were, it httd been outgrown, and
would never again spring into life.
"I will write to him exactly how It
is," she said at Last; "will tell Ilium
that the affection I felt for flim
could not have been what e. wife
should fool for her husband. I was
young, had seen nothing of the
world, knew nothing of gentlemen's
society, and „when ho tante, with his
handsome face and winning ways,
My inter(et was awakened. Sympa-
thy, too, for his misfortune, increas-
ed that interest, which grandma's
opposition tended in no wise to di-
minish. But it has died out, that
fancied love, and I „cannot
bring it back. Still, if he
insists, I will keep niy word,
and when ho cones next autumn I
will not tell hint No."
Maggio was very calm when this'
decision was reached, and opening
her writing-elesk she wrote just as
she said she would, begging of him'
to forgive her if she had done him
some wrong, and beseeching Rose to
comfort him as only a sister like her
could do. "And remember," she
wrote at the close, "remember that
sooner than see you very unhappy, I
will marry you, will try to be a
faithful wife; though, Henry, I
would rather not—oh, so much rath-
er not,"
The letter was finished, and then
Maggio took it to her grandmother,
who read it eagerly, for in it site
saw a fulfillment of her wishes. Very
closely had she watched both Mr.
Carrollton and Maggio, readily di-
vining the truth, -that something was
wrong between then,. But from past
experience she deemed it wiser not
to interfere directly. Mr. Carrollton's
avowed intention of returning to
England, however, startled her, and
she was revolving some method of
procedure when Margaret brought her
the letter.
"I am happier than I can well ex-
press," she said, when she had fin-
ished reading it, "Of course • you
have my permission to send it. But
what has changed you, Maggie? Has
another taken the place of Henry
Warner?"
"Don't ask me, grandma," cried
Mag, covering her face with her
hands, "don't ask mc, for indeed I
can only tell you that I am very un-
happy.'
A little skillful questioning on Ma -
dant Conway's part sufficed to ex-
plain the whole—how constant asso-
ciation with Arthur Carrollton had
won for him a place in Maggie's
heart, which Henry Warner had nev-
er filled; how the knowledge that she
loved him as she could love no oth-
er ono hail faintly revealed itself to
her on the night when he asked her
if she were engaged, and had burst
upon her with overwhelming power
when she heard that he was going
home.
"He will never think of me again,
I know," she said; "but, with my
present feelings, I cannot marry Hen-
ry, unless he insists upon it"
"A man seldom wishes to marry
a woman who says she does not love
him, and. Henry Warner will not
prove an exception," answered Ma-
dam Conway; and, comforted with
this assurance, Mag folded up her
letter, which was soon on its way
to Cuba.
The next evening, as Madam Con-
way sat alone with Mr. Carrollton,
she spoke of his return to England,
expressing her sorrow, and asking
why he did not remain with them
longer.
"I will deal frankly with you, ma-
dam," said he, "and say that if 7
followed my own inclination I should
stay, for Ilillsdale holds for ane an
attraction which no other spot pos-
sesses. I refer to your granddaugh-
ter, who, in the little time 1 have
known her, has grown very dear to
me; so dear that I dare not stay
longer where she is. lest l should
love her too well, and rebel against
"Possibly, Mr. ('urrollton, I can
nutice an explanation which will show
some points in a different light from,
that in which you now SQL! thein.
Margaret is engaged to Henry War-
ner, I will admit; but the engage-
ment has become irksome, and yes-
terday she wrote, asking a release,
which he will grant, 0f course."
as he looked when he raid so sadly:
"You need not tell ale, Maggie."
"Oh, 1 wish he had not asked me
that question," she sighed. "It has
put such dreadful thought,* into MY
head. And yet I love Henry as well
as ever; I know I do, .I ant sure of
andre-
peating
f t I will," 10
or,if 1 do..
it, ,
to herself again and agetn
the words, "I will, I will," she tell
asleep.
"Will, however, is not always sub-
se'sient to one's wishes,• and during
the first few days succeeding the in-
cident of thnt night Maggie often
found herself wishing that AArthtir
Carrollton had never tome to Hills-
dale, he made her so wretched, so
unhappy. lnse'nsibly, too, She be-
came a very little unamiable, speak-
ing pettishly to her grandmother
disrespectfully to Mrs. Jeffrey,
haughtily to An111t, and rarely to
Mr. Carrollton, tvho, after the lapse
bf two or three weeks, began to
to of
talk returninghome in the same
vessel with Anna Jeffrey, at which
time his htsalth would be fully re-
stored. Then, indeed, did Maggie
awake to the reality that while her
hand, Was plighted to one, she loved
another—not n5 in days gone by she
had loved Henry \Varner, but with a
Ilow, to my bosom and loved her, it
may be, with a deeper love than that
1 feel for Maggie Miller, for Rom- in
everything to me. She has made
and keeps tae what I am, and hos:
can I let her die. when 1 have the
power to save •her?"
There calls a tuoveinent upon the
pillow. Bose was staking. unci as
her soft bine eyes nne•lnse:l and look-
ed up in his face he wound his
arias around her. kissing her lips,
as never fetor:• ha had. kissed her.
alle was not his sister now --the veil
Instantly the expression of Mr.
Ciu'rollton's face was changed., and
very intently he listened, while Ma-
dam
udant Conway frankly told him the
story of Margaret's engagement up
to the .present time, withholding
from hila nothing, not, even 11iag's
confession of the interest she felt
in hhu, an interest which had weak-
ened her girlish attachment for lieu
ry Warner.
"You have made nee very happy,"
Mr. Carrollton said to :Madam Con-
way,
onway, as. at a late hour, he bade
her good -night, "happier than I can
well express; for, without Margaret,
life to me would be dreary indeed."
The next morning, at the breakfast
table, Anna Jeffrey, who was in high
Write; with the prospect of having
Mr, 'Carrollton('arrollloln for a fig met•-tr v r
a ere ,
spoke of their intended voyage, say-
ing she could hardly wait for the
time. to come, and asking if he were
not e.ivaily impatient to leave so
horrid a country as America.
"On the contrary'," he replied, "I
should be sorry to leave America
just yet. 1 have, therefore, decided
to remain a little longer." and his
eyes sought the face of :Maggie, who,
in her joyful surprise, dropped the
knife with whichh she was helping her-
self ,to butter, while Anna Jeffrey,
quite as much astonished, ul set her
eoCce, exclainming: "Not going home!
11'hat has changed your ,find?"
Mr. Carrollton made her no direct
reply, and she continued her break-
fast in no very amiable mood; while
Maggie, too much overjoyed to eat,
managed, ere long, to find an excuse
for leaving the table. Air. Carrollton
wished to do everything honorably,
and so he decided to say nothing to
!big of the cause of this sudden
change iu his plan until Henry War-
ner's answer was received, as she
should then feel freer to act. Isis re-
sglut ion, . however, was more easily
-mule than kept, and during the suc-
ceeding weeks, by unctions, if not by
words, he more than once told Mag-
gie Miller how 1111(:11 she was belov-
ed: and 'Maggie, trembling with fear
lest the cup 01 happiness just within
her grasp should be rudely dashed
aside, waited impatiently for the let-
ter which was to set her free. But
weeks went by, and Veggie's heart
grew sick with hope deferred, for
there mune to her no message from
the distant Cuban shore where, in
another chapter, we will for a mo-
ment go.
ABSOLUTE
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FOR HEADACHE.
FOR DIZIINESL..
FOR. NIUOOSHESIS.
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CARTERS
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CHAr'rElt XVII, • "
'imanimarnimmommalmammemommanmel
STOR1111
or Infants and Children4. .
was torn away ---a new feeliug had
been awakened, and as days and
weekb went by mere gradually crept
in between !hili and Maggie Miller a
new love*—even a love for the fair -
1101.0 Mee. to srlioiti he was kinder,
If possible, than lie had been before,
though he seldom kissed her lips or
caressed her in any way.
r
"1 would , taro 1 he said, 'a
t be If„
wrong to ltinucolf---a wrong to Iter --
and a wrong to 'Maggie Miller, to
whom his truth was plighted," and
he did not wish it otherwise, he
thought: though insensibly,there
same over hint a wish that aggie
herself might weary of the engage -
meld, and seek to break it. "Not
that he loved her the less," Ile res- !
soiled, 'but thathe
pitied Rose the
,
111.1(71
e.t"his {
manner time passed on,
until at lust there came to him
Maggie's letter, which had been a
r
1 n 17 o the sea.
o time n
"1 expected it," he thought, as ho
finished reading it, and though con -
811011s for a moment of a feeling of ,
disappointment, the letter brought
Brightly shone the moonlight on
the sunny isle of Cuba, dancing light-
ly on the wave, resting softly on the
orange groves, and stealing gently
through the casement into the room
where a young girl lay, whiter far
than the flowers strewn upon her pil-
low. From the commencement of the
voyage, :lose had drooped, growing
weaker every day, until at last all
who looked upon her felt that the
home, of which she talked so much
would never again be gladdened by
her presence. Very tenderly Henry
Warner nursed her, bearing her often
in his arms upon the vessel's deck,
where she could breathe the fresh
morning air as it calve rippling o'er
the sea. But neither ocean breeze
nor yet the fragrant breath of Flor-
ida's aromatic bowers, where for a
time they stopped, bud power to
rouse her; and when at last Havana
was reached, she laid her weary head
upon her pillow, whispering to no
0110 of the love which was wearing
her life away. With untold anguish
at their hearts, both her aunt and
Flory watched lertthepattGta
shrink-
ing
k-
ing ever from the thoughts of losing
one who seemed a part of his very
1 iie.
"I cannot give you up, my Rose.
I cannot live without you," he said,
when once she talked-. to him of
death. "You are all the world to
me." and laying his head upon her
pillow he wept, as heft will some-
times weep over their first great
sorrow.
"Don't, Henry." she said. laying
her tiny hand upon his hair; "Mag-
gie will comfort you when I am
gone. She will talk to you of me,
standing at my grave, for, Henry,
you must not leave me here alone.
You must carry me home and bury
me in deur old Leominster, where
tuy childhood wasti passed. aud where
1 learned to love you se Much, oh,
5o much!"
There was a mournful pathos in
the tone with which the last words
were uttered, but Henry Warner
did
not uncles stand it, and. covering the
little, blue -veined hand with kisses,
he promised that her grave should
he made at the foot of the garden
in their far -oft hotme, where the sun-
set light fell softly. and the moon-
beams gently shone. That evening
lielu•y sat alone by Rose who had
fallen into a disturbed slumber. For
a time he took .nn notice of the
disconnected words she uttered to her
dreams, but when. at last, he heard
the sound of his owns name, he drew
hear, and bending low. listened with
mingled emotions of joy. sorrow
and surprise to a secret whichn wak-
ing, cuss Would no er have told to
him, above all others. She loved
Ilam --the fair girl -lie called his sis-
+ter-•-but not as a sister loves. and
now, as he stood by her, with the
knowledge thriliing every ree'v'e, he
reenenlhercd many by ;sone stenos,
where, but for his bl'lulnesA. be
would have seen how every pulsation
of 1ler heart th1•vbhed atoms for hint,
Whose hand wag:• plighted, to ttanth-
tr, and that. other Ito unworthy 111-
a1. Heald ifnl, self' benne ;11,1. v ,s
:he shadowy forte wide).. •,t that
, side,
moment, seemed anal Strtndir, r at hie sldr
and his heart tut. curt tnwar.l 1 c
as the one above till 011,r,s tcs h. Lis
bride. -
"ITnd I hnowlt it se•oeve," Ld
thought, "known 11 befote• l tm1et the
Peerless Vag, I might Ila\ e taken
(To be continued.)
DO YOU KNOW—
That eggs covered when frying will
cook much more evenly?
That if you heat your knife you can
cut hot bread as smoothly as cold?
That camphor menthol is an excellent
inhalent if one is suffering from ca-
tarrh?
That little flour dredged over the top
of a cake will keep the icing from run-
ning?
That the white of an egg, with a
little sugar and water, is good for a
child with irritable sto:nach?
That clear, black coffee, diluted with
water and containing a little ammonia,
will cleanse and restore black clothes?
That a large slice of raw potato in
the fat when frying doughnots will
prevent black specks from appearing
on their surface?
That by rubbing with a flannel cloth
dipped in whiting, the brown .discolor-
ation may be taken off cups which have
been used in baking?
That a little powdered borax in
baby's water prevents the little one's
skin from chaffing, and he is not so
liable to break out with the heat,
Boy Wanted. •
(Toronto Globe.)
This is the age of the boy. Mechan-
ical invention has lessened the need of
skill and experience. The tempering
of steel blades once required the trained
eye that could follow every change of
color in the glow of the coal flame, but
now it can be supervised and better done
by a boy watching a thermometer. The
rifle ranges also show how the boy can
crowd the man off his pedestal of sup-
eriority. With the old "V" sight to
guide the slow, heavy bullet of high
trajectory the man of long experience
was supreme. There was no wind -gauge
thata boy could adjust as well as a man.
The practised eye and trained perception
tild how far off the target to wind-
ward the aim should be directed. The
coarse sight that would stand all kinds
of ill -usage requited the familiarity of
long practice. Its shadowy outlines
had none of the moderm definiteness
that approaches the exactness of a sur-
veyor's instruments, The heavy arm
with its vindictive recoil, demanded
proportionate weight and muscular
strength. All this is now changed, as
the boys' scores show.
Invention runs almost unconsciously
toward making things easier for the
boy. Every substitution of a boy for
a man means profit for the inventor,
and itis not surprising that the boy
crowds the man at the rifle ranges.
Farming has been described as the only
man's job left, but the report of its
many operations performed by a cur-
rent from the Hydo-electric wire, shows
that the boy will soon be promoted from
a mere g P ate -o ever and cow -driver. An
age seems approaching when even what
Betnard Shaw calls the shiftycannninn
of experience will lose its value, and
the joy will take the wheel in his own
hands.
Suffered With
Nerve Trouble
FOR TWO YEARS
IMPOSSIBLE FOR HIM TO SLEEP
Air. Chas. W. \Good, 34 Torrance St.,
Montreal, Que., writes:—"For two years
111ad suffered with nerve trouble, and it
was impossible for me to sleep. It did
not matter what time I went to bed, in
the morning I was even worse than the
night before. I consulted a doctor, and
lo: gave me a tonic to take a half hour
Lefure going to bed. It was all right for
a time, but tl a old trouble returned with
greater force than before. One of the
boys wl,o works with me, gave me half
a box of Milburn's Heart and Nerve
Pills. I took them, and I got such
satisfaction that I got another box, and
before I tinisled it I could enjoy sleep
from 10.m. until 6 a.m. and now feel
P ,
good."
Milburn's Heart and Nerve Pills are
60 cents per box, or 3 boxes for *1.26, at
all dealers, or mailed direct on receipt of
price by the T. Milburn Co., Limited,
Toronto, Ont.
(.4.) 0.0:1)/tOPS
limn ,r�,, „ •. .....,.� -
R!,
kleletableYrcparationforAS-
n heSteinactitig cbbis andBowels or
INl`ffN.�S+°01x71
Promotes'Dig'esiion,Ciceerful-
RessandRest.Contaiits neither
0 iuln,Morphine lnorMineral.
IOT MARC OTIC.
7httpe ar0&llY.£iN.'DL''LPITESSl1
J'hmpini Sud-
.
Al,rsennu
Roal.fle Sally -
"fain Seed
R•operrmint
Bl fmdona4S:3ls•
1151v/red -
f1 `rsaSrN9.V.'
AperfectRemedy forConstipa-
tion, Sour Stolnach,Diarrhoea,
Worms,Convulsions,Feverish-
ness and Loss OF SLEEP.
Tac Simile Signature of
NEW YORK.
The Kind You Have
Always Bought
Bears the
Signature
of
In
Use
For Over
thirty Years
TI RIA
CXACT COPY OF WRAPPCH.
'.�.\Oe•..v+.+. }P., �- THE Cr P,TAVR Co M"ANY, WM YORK CITY.
Kkilney
ah s
in the Back
Mr. Thos. D. Walsh, Pietou, N.S.,
writes: "Two years ago my wife
took to her bed after suffering for a
long time from kidney pains in the
back. She was not able to stand on
her feet or even turn herself in bed.
The doctor's medicine was no benefit
whatever, that we could are. Soma -
times her legs would swell consider-
ably. Reading about a woman in
similar condition being cured by Dr.
Chase's Kidney -Liver Pills, we pur-
chased two boxes and when th:se
were used she was able to sit up.
With three more boxes she was re-
stored to health and doing her own
housework.
"As for myself I also found these
pills all that is claimed for them. I
give this statement in order that
others may obtain time same ease from
suffering as that experienced by my
wife and myself."
One pill a close, it box, at all
dealers or Edmanson, Dates & Co.,
Limited, Toronto.
bare. They were broken up and the
fragments strewn in orderly confusion
along their bases. At a distance it
now looks like long piles of coal running
up the mountain side with the same
regularity as the windrows of tall grass
that fall behind the scythe.
An article that has real merit should
in time become popular. That such is
the case with Chamberlain's Cough
Remedy has been attested by many deal-
ers. Here is one of them. H. W. Hen-
drickson, Ohio Falls, Ind., writes "Cham-
berlain's Cough Remedy is the best for
coughs, colds and croup, and is my best
seller." For sale by ail dealers.
A Great Field of Tungsten.
One of the greatest developments in
connection with electric lighting follow-
ed upon the discovery of the one that
could be made of tungsten in the manu-
facture of incandescent lights. This
new agent, first applied in Germany
some ten yeit'rs ago, hag quadrupled tilt
lighting power of electricity without
the current
used.
anyincrease in Up
to ten or fifteen years ago tungsten
was classed among the rare and costly
minerals of the world, for which, how-
ever, there was little demand. Tungs-
ten is now found in many parts of the
world, from Argentina to Austria, from
Spain to Singkep, from England to
Austtalia. But most of these deposits
are small and uncertain. About half
of the world's supply comes from the
United States, and a large percentage
of all the tungsten that is produced in
America comes from the great tungsten
farm in Boulder County, Colorado.
This Boulder
County tungsten
is the
purest in the world, the only foreign
deposits which approach it being those
of Sax•ny and Bohemia. For this rea
son several
of
the largest est menufa
tur-
ers
of incandescent lamps specify that
Boulder County tungsten must be used
in their filaments. The supply of this
Colorado tungsten farm is practically
inexhaustible. So vast is it in extent,
so abundant and so easy to mine that
the price of this valuable metal has
gone down until it is available for wid-
est commercial use. This farm stretch-
es for a great distance along a steep
mountain side. The ore lies on it in
great windrows, thousands, hundreds
of thousands, perhaps millions of tons.
As yet no one has attempted to calcu-
late its extent. There is too much of
it. Still more surprising, n great quan-
tity of the ore is about 70 per cent.
pure. Altogether it is probably the
most remarkable deposit of this mineral
in the world. Tungsten is usually
found in veins from 60 to 100 feet be-
low the surface. Therefore. in some
remote geological age this mountain
aide where the farm is was tilted by
some mighty convulsion of the earth
and the loose covering rolled and slid
off the great ribs of black, heavy rock.
Then, in the imperceptible but power-
ful touch of heat and cold, and the wash
id the rains laid these mountain ribs
One Thing Free.
The sinful trusts which scheme to-
gether, all muneane thing to own, can't
get their talons on the weather—that
they must leave alone. Oh, nearly all
life's necessaries cost so they make us
bawl, but one great blessing never var-
ies—the weather's free to all! No
mae's so poor he cannot wallow in
weather day by day; he knows that in
the days that 'twill be the same old
way. The trusts, those grasping, soul-
less varmints, may boss the universe,
may rt le the price of grub and garm-
ents, of cradle and of hearse, may rise
the price of shredded heather, flaked
wheat and boneset tea, but they must
keep harms off the weather—that bless-
ing still is free! The trusts have piped
our drinking water (I hope the piping
busts!), the hat yeti purchase foe j'oiir"
daughter is sent forth by the trusts;
the coal you born, the oil, the kindling,
are trust controlled, my friend; what
wonder that your wad is swindling,
your patience near an end! The trusts
have raised the tax on leather until you
have no shoes, and all that's Left you is
the weather, to comfort and amuse.
My indignation—I can't rhyme it—stirs
my soul, by jing, the while I fill myself
with climate, and try to dance and sing.
—Walt Mason.
RR. A. W. CHASE'S a
CATARRH POWDER 0 ton
s•, s n
direct to the Ent
LnproYcd )31,av, r. lical.thc u:..+rs,
clears the air pa .aces, stops drop.
Pings rn the throat and permanert-
r cures Catarrh and lies Peter.
14c, a box• hloa¢•rfree. Acce>•t no
substitutes. Alt dealers or Fdmaneen.
• tutee & Om, Li,nited,'foronto.
IN THE DINING -ROOM.
The table pad or silence cloth of can-
ton flannel not only saves the cloth it-
self, but will make a thin, cheap cloth,
look quite respectably heavy, also it
protects the surface of the table. Old
blankets well washed, then cut the
right shape and size and bound with
tape or blanket ribbon make excellent
silence cloths. They should be cut the
exact size of the top of the table, so
that none hangs over the edge, g , and
there should be two in constant use so
that once a week one of these can go
to the laundry.
To keep small tablecloths and tea
spreads from cutting in the folds, roll
them on a broomstick cut the right
length, and padded with canton flannel.
The rolling should be done while the
ironing is ill process, and the ironed
surface rolled inward. Don't roll too
tight, and if necessary secure the roll
from unwinding by tying a fiat piece
of tape about it, then lay the whole on
the linen shelf. A very little pulsing
and patting will make the cloth set
smooth when spread on the table, and
the surface will be of uniform gloss.