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HomeMy WebLinkAboutThe Brussels Post, 1893-6-9, Page 2HIS HEIRGSS; OH, LOYE IS ,A.LWAYS TIIE SAME, CHAPTER XII, "'Nell met," she soya, airily, °' That of courae,lt you allow it," retnrns Ilea gallantly. Yet you scarcely seemed overjoyed to anew moment eince, smiles site in her swift, curious fashion, "Natural enough. You startled no. Atye the bye, 'nearly ran you down, didn't I'7" carelessly but mutant/11y. - "Very nosey." a a"Not a nice thing to be rau to earth, eh?" eeyo Staines, meaningiy. "But you see I was in a hurry, and didn't expect you would have taken up a position in this solitary spot." "You teemed in hot haste, indeed," re- turns she. "Quite as if you were running away from something. What was it?" glancing at hin from under her sleepy lids. 'A second disappointment?" "Madame," replies he deliberately, "you opeak in parables. A second disappoint- mentimplies o first. You allude to—?" Whatever half -formed plan madame had in her head, taken shape and color now. She leans forward, elevates her shoulders, and makes a little graceful gesture toward the hal where Statues has just had his ins terview with Lady Branksmere, "Madame is beautiful 1" she whispers, throwing out her exquisitely shaped hands 'with an expressive movement. ' Ah 1 be- lieve it or not as t}'ou will—I have indeed Zeit sorry for you, ' she murmurs. "'.A fellow fooling,'" quotes Staines, with an -ugly sneer, 1. 'makes no wondrous lied.' My disappointment, as you oall it, was hardly greater than yours. ,Seven years Is a long tine in which to strive only to be at last undone !" Her color lades. She steps beck involun- tarily, and a dangerous light creeps into her stark eyes. "Come 1 that was hardly fair of me," laughs Staines, in a conciliatory way. "But it was your own fault—you led me up to it, you know. Sorry if I appeared unohival- sous, but you would have it, you know." "You mean—?" exclaims me.dame, forc- ing the words from between her clinched • teeth. "Fallow ! Nothing to make you look so tragical," returns Staines, moving a step or -Savo. Madame following, lays a firm ,hand utpon his arin, "Yon do not leave this," she declares, Sercely, "until you have explained what it was you meant." " That Branksmere was as good a parts as there is in England," retorts he, con- temptuously. "Take it then as you insist .ten it." `You know nothing—nothing," cries she, with an angry sob. " Why should we quarrel over the fact that we have each made a discovery of the ether's secret? Let us be comrades rather. A common grievance -such as ours," with a short Iaugh, "should have the effect of meeting between us a link of sympathy. He holds out his hand to her as though desirous at once of forging this link, but madame declines to see it. "Think," he whispers, impressively, "whether I ran be of no service to you in this matter ?" " in what way, sir ?" °' That I leevc to your woman's wit to an- swer," returns he. You can't make up your mind, then? Perhaps you think I overestimate my powers of usefulness." "No, I dont doubt you there," She Sifts her head and looks at him steadily. "And yet you shrink—you hesitate. I "ell you there is no need for compunction, Theyareless than nothing to each other," says the tempter, slowly. " It is of him alone, I think," she breaks in, vehemently. "As for her, let her go. 11 owe her nothing but hatred fora studied zourse of insolence since the first hour we met. Bat there is his happiness to be con- sidered." "Pshaw 1" scornfully. " Is it not open to all the world to read between the lines? It eves a caprice—a, mere passing fauey on lis part—a desire for a pretty tace, of whieh the has already tired. The fancy, the ca- price, are dead.' " I am not so sure of that, If I were— she pauses. ' You would feel more free to act? Why, look into it, as it stands. Would a man who loved, neglect the object of that love, as- he does her ? Would he deliberately and openly betray in a thousand ways his pref- erence for another !" " There is no suoh preference as that of whioh you hint," returns she gloomily. " There you wrong -yourself. Yet, greeting you are right does that make it any the easier for you to prove his love for hher2' When does he seek her side? When does a tender glance, a kindly word pass 'between them? Has he even foroed a smile bor her ?" "Ivo—And yet—" she hesitates, grows anddenly silent, and Staines plays his crump card. ".Had he even the last lingering remnants ole wotucutlove for her he says with told contempt, "would he have invited me here?" "He was ignorant of your former rela- tions with her. He knew nothing," eriee she, eagerly, "Nothing 1 1 have it from kis own lips," " Then he lied to you," declares Staines, woolly. For he had the. whole story from my lips, before ever I accepted his invita- Ston, Some absurdly quixotic impulse alrove me at that moment to mention it." "Is that the truth ?" aeke she, in a ter- aibly eager way. If you doubt me, ask him," returns he boldly, She sighs deeply, and throws up her head as if suffocating, and he knows he ban won the day, and gained an ally who will—who shall be -of incalculable service to him in the Iodising of the abominable end he has in view. "You love her I" elm make, hurriedly. I have not asked you if you love him," :retorts he, coldly. °' True." She winos a little. "It is then a boned between us, to help each other when we eon?" demands he, "A bond—yes, Bat remember I pledge myself to nothing," answers she, thought- fully. CHAPTER XIII. Meanwhile Muriel, going slowly mp the otaire to the dowager's room, feels as though her feet aro olad with leaden wings, That last a00asmtion of his had smitten her core, Idad she wronged him? Ilacl she betrayed ? 'i'Iet mind Wanders back in a true lineto the old days, when she had strayed with him through monde and bowerfug treats, . days when tale had thought of him as the one man in all - the world for her. If she had then ehrunk frorn a life et poverty, aweatenod even though it Might belove Why, so bad be ! gby ' .Slid had quailed indeed when She thought THE BRUSSELS POST. of years filled with sordid care, but it woe he who had carefully pointed out to her those mires. No earneet pleading had been used to give Iter strength to endure for Clear love's sake alone, Even that letter, so re- plete with angry reproach, had contained no entreaty to oast aside her allegienoe to Lord Branksmere, and fling herself with honest abandonment into her lover's arms. Some hidden strain of knowledge whispers to her that she would not now be Lady Branksmere had Staines been stancher, more persistent in his wooing ; that there might have been o moment when she would have counted the world well lost for what is now loot to her forever At this point in her meditations Muriel drops into a low onshioned seat in one of the stairoaso windows and laughs aloud, softly but with on indescribable Idea:mese. A steady barrier should, and must, be placed between her and Staines forever; Branks- mere should be that barrier I And now ? She rises wearily trent her seat in the great painted window, and goes on her unwilling way to the dowager's apartments. Now, she has neither lover's nor hssband'a love 1 She shivers a little as she reaohes the heavy hanging curtain that hides the en. trance to the corridor that leads not only to the dowager's apartments, but to those of Mine. Von Thirsk. She stops short. Beyond her lies the other curtain that hides the large door that leads to madame's own rooms ; those rooms that no One may enter save madtme herself, and— She draws a heavy breath. A sense of suffocation weighs her down. It is the first time she has been here since that afternoon when lire. Stout had escorted her through the upper parts of the house in the charac- ter of cicerone. She rouses herself, how- ever, and turning resolutely toward old Lady Branksmere's room, knocks gently at the door. It is opened to her by a tall, gaunt worn• an, with a peculiarly bloodless face, and eyes deeply set and colorless, She drops back a step or so in respectful fashion as Muriel enters, and then returns to her station beside the bed. The room is setni•lighted, the curtains be- ing closely drawn, a sullen fire is burning in the huge grate, and a blank cat, gaunt as Mrs. Brookes --who hod opened the door for leleriel—sits upon the hearth -rug, As Muriel advances, this brute turns its head slowly round and spits at her in a malevo- lent fashion. " Be quiet, then, my beauty, my sweet- heart 1" she murmurs, absurdly, to the creature. The dull flames emit 0 duller Light; through the closed curtains a feeble ray is struggling ; Muriel, peering anxiously into this obscurity, finds at last the occupant of the room who has desired her presence. In a huge four-poster of enormous dimen- sions, lies a figure, a mere shell of our poor humanity ! A wizened, aged, witch -like face looks out from the pillows ; a fade that but for the eyes might well be mistaken for a piece of parchment. Two gaunt hands, delicately formed, bit inhuman in aspect, are resting on the faded but gorgeous counterpane. The lips fail to conceal the toothless gums within ; and the scant and hoary locks, are bound by a funeral band of black velvet that serves to heighten the ghastliness of the half -living picture. The dowager seems unaware of her pres. encs until Mrs. Brookes, stooping over her, lays her hand upon her shoulder, "It is Lady Branksmere, madam. She has come to see you—at your request," " Ay—ay. I know, i ant eek of her name," returns the old woman, querulously, "There are so matey of them, Aly Lady Branksmere of today—and she of yester- day—and she of the day before 1 ll'hy don't some of 'em die—eh?" " I don't know, madam. Time will do it, perhaps," returns the attendant, doubt. fully. Slaws count time," goarrelo the miser- able wreck, vacantly. "It has uothiva g to do with us. Who spoke of my Lady Branksmere? Was it you, Brookes? Yon should know better. She will never be my lady now--no—neverl" " Hush, madame—" "But what of her—the little one? She lead ought to have been my lady, but wasn't. What of her, Brookes ? Is she coming to mo? Tell me, woman, or I'll strike you?" " Not to -day, madam," soothingly. "She ehottld, then. Memory as quick within me, All, all comes bank to me to. day, Seven year's ago, Brookes. Seven years. My poor little boy 1 my poor fel- Iso' 1' Your ladyship will excuse her," en- treats Mrs. Brookes, turning to Muriel with a sedate courtesy, "It is not one of madam's good days." ' What is that you are saying, Brookes?" cries the dowager, shrilly. "And who is that lurking behind the curteins? Let 'em stand forward? D'ye hear? What are they hiding for, els?" Here, catching sight of Muriel, memory again takes fire, and she knows her, Old habits return to her—old dignity, " You do an old woman much honor. I am very pleased eo see you, my dear," she says proudly but sweetly. " Pray be seat. ed, Brookes 1 a chair for my Lady Brenta - mere, It is a gracious action of yours, my dear, to grant the dying a few minutes out of your young life 1" Here, alas 1 the vital spark grows dull again, and returns to its sad fliokering that is but the prelude of its death. The touch of strength the worn-outbrainhad reoeived dies away, and stooping forward the old woman twines he bony fingers round Muriel's white wrist and breaks into futile mumblin s. "Have you seen her yob? The little thing in her white gown . she asks. " Such a pretty creature. It isn't you I'm talking of, you will know, because you are Lady Branksmere, and she isn't. She can't be now, they tell me. But she was the prettiest little soul, and all in white—in White." "Recollect youreelf, madam 1" whispers MM. Brookes, severely. "Go away, Brookes. Go away, 1 say, Nobody understands mebut Thekla. Where is Thekle ? Ah ! the knows the little ono I Thekla knows 1—also will tell you 1" ole whispers, leaning toward ibluriel, who has grown very pale. The old woman's aerostat words --Cho evident. desire of the attendant to silence icer, have suggested to her strong confirmation of doubts that are already at work within her. Seven years ago madame had said I Seven years ago was Madame von Thirsk a pale, slender maiden? Did she wear a white gown? Was it she who should have been Lady Branksmere in her--•Muriel's place. A eenaation of faintnes creeps_ over her as site sits still and motionless beside the four-poster, hearing but net heeding the idle wanderings of itO ocseupant, A longing to escape—to got away from her immediate surrouudmgs, to be alone— takes possession of her, She rime precipt• tately to her feet. " Stay, stay 1' cries the dowager, " You haven't told tree yet if you have seen her, She, who ought to be you, yon know 1 But it is laev en years ago. Seven sears I No, Brookes," testily, ' I will not be sit. ent; I will oak her, iVhy should she not be told ? It is a sad story, and my Lady Branksmere here seems to me to have a tenderiteert. Ah 1 it would melts harder heart than hers to hear the story of the little one, Such love—such devotion and all for naught, Now is two late 1 You, need bear no malice, my dear ; it is, indeed, too late, as you know. Nothing could make het Lady Branksnmore [now I Yet that is what she craves—what she cries for night and day. Sometimes I hear bar in the dead of eight, I don't ask you if you see her now 1" she whispers, wildly clutching et Muriel's arm, "I can see for myself, Look I Look, I say, She is there, There ! in her little white frock, u'ith— What is that, Brookes? What is that?" shouts she violently. ".It is blood—his blood ? D'ye see the red spots upon her gown ? They are his—his, I tell you—his heart's blood ! Drops drawn from leis piero- ed breast i Oh Arthur 1 Oh, my pretty boy I" " You mast not laced her, my lady ; she is not herself to -day," say's Airs. Brookes hurriedly. " My late lor'd's death made a terrible impression upon her, She secs visions at times, or fauciee she does. There is not truth in anything site says ! 1 pray you remetnber that, modem 1 He was hef favorite grandson, you see, and his sadden death, caused by such awful means, unsettl. ed her poor brain," "1 know—I understand," murmured Muriel, in astifled tone. Releasing herself gently, from the dowager's grasp, she rush- es from the room. CHAPTER XIV. Finds ng the hall door lying hospitably open he enters the house without the usual rat -tat and traverses the hall without meet- ing a soul The library is reached and found empty, The schoolroom ie invaded with a sinking heart; but Isere, too, desolation reigns. Good gracious 1 Where aro they? What on earth has happened? The piano is lying open, and Mr, Paulyn, seating himself upon the nmusic•stoollooks mettrafttily down upon the yellow keys. " I hope the new importation isn't play- ingthe very dooce with 'en all," he sclilo- quizes, plaintively ; it looks bad. No yells; no skirmishing. Not as much as a cushion aimed at a fellow's head from behind a half - opened door. It does look poor 1 Itis one of two things—either they have all suc- cumbed to the plague of the cholera, or Billy's wife is an out -and -outer, " Well, I'll solve the riddle at once. - If any of then are still in the land of the Living, this will fetch 'em," He lays violent hands upon the long-suf• faring instrument, whereupon thunders up- rise from it fulfilled with that touching melody commonly known as " Tommy Dodd," Mr. Bellew, making his usual en• trance into the house by means of the school -room window, is so staggered by it that he parses midway, with. one foot on the balcony still and one on the carpet inside. And Margery darts like a swallow into the old room and literally flings herself into the musician's arms, " Dear old thing 1" she cries. " To think you've really come 1 Oh, Tommy. /say, how nice it is to see you again I" " Why, there you are, Margery, old girl —and bow are you 1" returns else Honorable Tommy. "Pretty well, eh ? Bearing up, eh ? That's right, Never say die is your motto, 1 spitakit,e "ft ; and let ane tell you I admire your r You ought to," says Margery, gayly. "Yon have lead plenty of time to study it. What brought you down ab this ungodly period? You, who are so fond of your 'Pall 118.` 1' ?" I'm not sure, unless it was to see you," returns NIr, Paulyn, gallantly. "I met Branksmere one day in Piccadilly, and he seized hold.of me as though he was a police. men. ' Come Monger me,' said he, and I hadn't much of an excuse ready, so I owned." " It doesn't matter a bit how or why you deme, so long as you aro here," declares Margery, lovingly. Ali this you may be sure is creating pure rapture in the bosom of the young man who is still standing transfixed between the room and the balcony. His eyes are glib• tering by this time his brow is black 1 He brings the leg that has been lagging on the balcony into the room, with a resounding thud that rousse the two at the piano, "There you are, Curzon," els says quite carelessly— " Ah, Bellew I Glad to see you. How are you, old chap? asks Paulyn. " Quite well thank you." In a freezing bonehatre, dand, with a glance full of deadliest ' That's all right 1 So am 1," declares Mr. Paulyn, cheerfully, "Oh, by Jove, here's Augelion," Like a pale lilyahestands, erect, slender, half child, half woman. Mr. Paulyn, who is doubtless a person of good taste, seems delighted with her, and kisses her wnrnmly in eonsinly fashion, Well, she hasn't starved you at all events. You were always slight, you know," Bays Tommy. " Indeed, I might even go farther and say she has fattened you," oontinned Tommy,holding bank the twins, at arms' length. " Well, how does she treat you ?'' asks the Honorable Tommy, sinking hist voice to a mysterious whisper. " Is eke support- able, or the very devil, eh? I'm afraid it's the latter. But you'll have to bear up, you know. ' A frog he would a•wooing go, whether his mother would have it or no I Old song 1 'Member it? That's your case with Billy, don't you see 2" "But—"begins Margery,'eagerly, " Yes, of mune, I quite understand all that. Beastly hard work upon you all. But what I sky ie--donb give in to her too much 1 Hold up your hoade. March Give yourselves airs 1 There's a lot of you, and only one of her, and I don't see why the crowd shouldn't win the day." " There isn't any day to win," declarers Angelica, lifting her penciled brows. "it's won already." "Then more Shame for yon—a poor epirlted lot 1" exclaims Mr. Paulyn scorn- fully. "To be cot upon at the very first assault. "I'm disgusted with you all, I believed there 1150 some sort of go amonget you, and now? That kind is she, eh 2" with a startling drop from the highfalutin to the ordinary gossipy taste, "She? Who, on earth, Tommy, are you alluding to 2" .mks Mergery, oath some asperity. " Why, to Mrs. Daryl, of course," very justly aggrieved, Who did you think2 "How often have 1 warned you that your inooherenoy will be your' ruins Fromthe way you spoke One might quite as easily believe you were talking of. the man in 11101110011 as of Dilly's wile.' • " If you exert your brein a little bit, you will remember that I said ' she,' " retorts Mr. Paulyn, who is now deeply hummed. And I never Meares of a woman in the moon. Did you?" " Here she is 1" cry the twins at this moment in abreath, All turn, in a slightly awed moaner, to the door. CHAPTER XV. After all it is only Mrs. Billy herself who meets their expectant gaze. Her bonny face le wreathed in smiles, and she accosts Margery in quite a railiaut Mahlon, " See here, Meg, I've got a real good thing to—" but at this the stops dead short. Site stares inquiringly ,at Tommy, who is generously returning the attention. At last Mr. Billy gives tray. She seniles broadly. " You don't help me, Meg," she says with a little laugh, " The situation, I have no doubt, is full of interest, 'put as yet I am rather in the dark. Is this another of your young men ?" " Certainly not," she says. "Itis only Tommy, Tommy Paulyn ; you know," " Why, yea, certainly," says Mra. Billy, and holding out to him a friendly hated. " 11-Imsn did you donne, eh? I seem to have known you for oenturiee, the girls talk 00 much about you." " They would, you knots'—" he says, giving hes shirt -collar a conceited pall. They are so fond of me," " Isn't it true, Angelica," persists Apr, Paulyn. " Don't you love me'?' " Have I said so, Tommy ?" asks she in her quaint, quakerish fashion. " A thousand times," replies he. "I will not contradict you. I will leave it to your conscience 1" says the slim, tall, childish little thing, " You leave it fn safe quarters, then," declares the irrepressible Tommy, " You have named as umpire in this case about. the best thing of Its kind. Don't mind her, Mrs. Daryl, she adores me, Come over here, Angelica, and sit beside me. I have a whole budget of news to open to you." " No, I will not,' Saye Angelica. " You have not said what's true—I will not go near you," Then you'll be sorry preaently," says \lr, Paulyn. When I'm gone 1 I shall only be here fora week or so at the furthest, and who knows when you will see me again ! I'm a bird of passage, yon know ; here to -day and gone—" The word " to•morrow" is squealed out in a stifled tone, the old sofa having given way beneath hint and buried him amongst its ruins. Heels up the Honorable Tommy disappears from view. " Wall, I'm blo--, Ole, confound 111" gasps he. " What the dooce is the good of a sofa like that, eh ? Regular man -trap, what? I'l1 take jolly good care I don't trust myself to its tender enemies again." "You have taken care," cries Margery, who is roaring with laughter. " firs in bits, poor old thing. And such an old friend aa it was, too 1 You ought to be ashamed of yourself, Tommy." " \S ell, I'm not," says Tommy, and then he' laughs time loudest of therm all at his mishap, "Are you staying at Branksmere?' asks Dick. " Muriel said something about your coning." "Yes, at Branksmere. Fine old place. By the bye," dancing round him confiden- tially, "I never saw anything so awful as Muriel is looking 1 Like a handsome ghost. White as paper, don't you know, and her eyes as big as a pond," "Elegant desoription !" murmurs Diok, admiringly. " Been getting it up, Tom- my 1" " She regular frightened me, I can tell you, I used to be spoony about that girl," confesses Mr. Paulyn in a loud, clear voice. " I loved her like—like—well, like any- thing, you know ; and now to find her so pale and—and, still, rather took it out of me. Somebody ought to see to 5, you know. Brankenmere must be treating her very queer to bring her to such a pees. I can't get her out of any head," deolares Mr. Paulyn, earnestly. " Kept dreamin' of her all last night." " You're in love 'with her still," laughs Mrs. Billy, gayly ; " that's what's time mat- ter with you," "Not a bit of it,"s ye Tommy, stoutly. "Only she worries me. She's as good as my sister, ,man know. In foot, all the girls here make up the only idea of home I've ever known: And I'm certain Muriel—" "Is quiet happy," interrupts Margery. " Why, what silly notion have you got into your head now ? Is Muriel never to have a headache ? never to look pale ? Is she molt a favorite of the gods that all the ills of life are to be held back from her ?" "What I want to know is," said Mr. Paulyn " why she married Branksmere. He's a good old chap enough, and I really like him, but there was that other fellow Staines ; he's staying there now, by the way—domed bad taste of him, I think— well 1 she was going to marry him awhile ago, eb ?" "I'smt jolly glad site didn't," says Dick. "So am I, supplements Angelica, " Dancing -master sort of a snan I" " She married Branksmere because she Mose to do so," declares Margery,slowly. "Who shall arrange for her her reasons ?" " Not I, for one,' says Tommy. " But " You will understand that there are to be no 'buts' in this ease," interrupts Mar- gery. " I will not have Muriel's motives publicly canvassed. Do you hear 1" "Alt 1 I've discovered it," ories Mrs. Billy at this mmcertain moment, " What?" asks Angelica, eagerly. " VS hat R was I wee going to say to Meg when I first came into the room. It escaped me been, but now I have it—recaptured. Margery, aword evitlt you." As for Tommy, he ie left upon the field' in a distinctlyinjnred frame of mind. "Itis an odd thing if I can't diecuas the girls' well-being amongst themselves," he protests, indignantly. " It is all very fine their pretending to be so independent, but I'm their cousin, and a sort of a guar- dian, by Jove. In fent, I feel as if they were all flung upon my shoulders now, somehow. Billy is, of course, too much token up with his late purchase to see any- thing beyond his nose, and Peter" (mildly) "is about the biggeee fool 1 know l" At this one of the twins bursts into a fit of inextinguishable laughter. "That ohild'e not well," he says slowly. "Somebody had better look to it. If that severe paroxysm continues much longer, I wouldn't anewer for the oonsequeb00s," " What be it, May, Blanche ?" asks Dick, who generally addresses moll of the twins by both their names, " Pat her on the bank, eomebody, mildly but firmly," entreats Mr. Paulyn generally, "Give It her strong. Now titan, say poor child, Better oh 2 Well enoaglt to ex- plain ?" "It's only this," cries May, "theewhet you ,jest now said of Peter is madly what bo said of yen yesterday, that you wore the ' biggeet fool unhung,' That was how he, punt." "Ali 1 ten improvement an my little epeeeh," dcolares Mr, Paudyu, unmoved. "Peter, if e, little wanting, so still a spOaI- ally nice follow, and to think me the big. gest fool unhung only }proves the troth of my opinion of him. You agree with me, Bellow?" dragging into the foreground the morose young man among the wiudew' cartaine. "Do I?" said he, in a tone that wares hir, Paulyn it will be unsafe to follow up the arqumcne, "VVltat is the matter with you this morning, Curzon ?" asks Margery, who had again joined the throng, " you loose tome SO eour, that I shouldn't think you would agree with any ono." " I dont want to," returns Mr, Bellow. His wrongs burn within hirn, and his anger waxes warm, "Luoky you 1 as matters stand." "I wonder you have the hardihood even to adctress me," breaks out he in a vehe- ment undertone—his wrath at last getting the better of hien. Ho does not wait for her answer to this, but turtle abruptly aside, leaving iter amazed and indignant, and in toot, as she whispers to herself, with a good deal in for him I" (To Be cmamet'een,) HEALTH. Diseases Not Due to Miorobee. The miorobio origin of infectious diseases was nue of the greatest discoveries in mods• cal history, It has largely revolutionized mediral science. There was a further advance when it was proved that the harm done by the microbes, was not direct, but due to a violent poison they produced, somewhat anntegoua to the poisons normally thrown off by the cells of our tissues ; and these are innoouons so long as they are duly carried out of the system by the eliminating organs. It was at first: thought that the discovery would cause a revolution its medical prac- tice, end enable physicians to cure patients with medicines which would destroy the parasitic microbes. Whet may be done in this direction is still among the problems of the fu tura. The chief advantages of the discovery are that it emphasizes the supreme importanoo of general sanitation, and that it may lead to extending the principle of vaccination to most infectious diseases. But according to Doctor'Trouassart, of Paris,—we quote from the Boston Medical and Surgical Journal,— we are in danger of carrying the microbe pathogeny too far, and of overlooking the part that belongs to the organism. Ito affirms that it will always be impose eible to explain all pathology by microbes, and emphasizes the fact that the functions of the living cells themselves may Ile per. versed or destroyed by other agents than micro-organisms. When the functions of palls are perverted, the excesses of secreted or excreted matter beoome real poisons, similar in their effects to those produced by microbes. The foot is the cells of the tissues have an organisation and properties similar to those of the microbe, and when their functions are diseased become veritable parasites, which the organism hastens to eliminate by the well-Icnown process of inflammation. All poisons, whateoer their origin, must be eliminated by the kidneys, the intestine or the skin. The fact that the opals and microbes are so similar in constitution and properties indicates that it is unsafe to ad- minister remedies that would be effective against the microbes. Pastor Kneipp's Water -Once. Pastor Kneipp, the famous water doctor from \Vorrishofon, in Bavaria, the modern place of pilgrimage of the water enthusiasts of all countries, is now in Berlin, lecturing to his followers on the wonderful effect of his water•oures. Saye a Berlin letter to the London Daily News: Nearly two thou- sand persons assembled to hear from Father Kneipp's own lips the mysteries of Isis sys- tem. Pastor Ieneipp snakes a very sym- pathetic impression. His long blaok ceoeook covers a medium-sized strong body, on which rests an energetic head, Although his hair is rather gray his bushy eyebrows are deep black. From the way he bolde himself and his lively movements, nobody would take Pastor Kneipp to be 72 years of age. I; a is a wandering advertisement for hie doctrine, to which, as he says, he owes his life and strength, and which he has lived up to since 11.43, He said that what could not be cured with water was altogether incurable. Water wee the panacea for all these evils, A good remedy must be everywhere easily available, especially to the poor. It must be able to be borne, and suited to the differ- ent coneptaiuts. Herr Kneipp oomes to the conclusion that hydropathy, and especially his method, unites all these advantages. Ile Fated that he woe - nota medical man. He had never read a martioal work. He himself had been given up as incurable forty-seven years ago. He had cured him- self With water, and his love for hie neigh. bor had sod him to apply the same cure to his fellow men. And good results had proved that his method was the only right one. Finally:, Pastor Kniepp pleaded for the use of simple food and clothes, as these things, combined with the use of water, would produce a healthy human rase: For Pastor Kneipp hydropathyisthe alone soaring principle which can be applied everywhere. As one wants nothing but a bath, a water- ing oan, Gwo rough towels, and water, ono can apply it at hone and in the hospital. It costs nothing and nestle no fine building. "In my old wash•houee," he said, "I re. oently treateda minister and a general frotn Menial, end both world rather remain in the old washhouse than in the new bath. house," Liberal Dee of Butter. No dietoaio reform would be more eon- ducive to improve health among ohildren, and especially to the prevention of tuber- oulosie,then an increase in the consumption of butter, says an exchange. Our children are trained to take butter with great re- straint, and are told that it is greedy and extravagant to eat much of it. It is re• garded as a luxury, and as giving a relieh to bread tether than in itself a most inn. portant artiole of food. Even to private families of the wealthier classes them rules prevail at Leh's., end at schools, and at public boarding establishments they receive etrong reinforoemento from ocohotnical me. tivee. Mismute'allowanoes of butter are served out to these who would gladly oon- anme five timee the quantity, Where the house income makes this a matter of ueees. s1ty there is little more to be said than timat. it as often a costly economy, Enfeebled health may easily entail a for heavier ex. pense than a more liberal breakfast would have done. Cod liver oil Deets more than butter, and itis, bmidae,often not resorted to an too late, Method of restrfotinga ohild'e cam - attention of butter, encourage it. Lot the limit be time power of digestion and the tendency to biliousness, Most ohildren may be allowed to follow their own moans, tions and will not taste Moro than is ggood for shout The butter should. be of the est amid telteet cold, Bread, drytoaat, biscuits, 0, 1893 potatoes and rico aro good vehiules, Chit. Bron well supplied with batter feel the odd loss than others and resist the influenza better, They do not "oath's cold" so easily. In a caking of children, I by no means in- tents to exoluda other ages, especially young adults. Growst-ttp persona, however, take other animal fats 111000 freely then most children do, and are, besides, allowed much freer soleotion as to both duality and quantity. It is not so necessary to raise any clamor for reform On their account, Tomatoes and Noncar. Ono of the delusions that is prevalent in many parts of the country is that ton -taboos are the dirout causes of anneal', and that those who eat them are pretty sure to run the risk of developing oattceroeo growth at home time. So fixed is Ulla delusion in parts of the country that people will not touch this most healthful of vegetables. The fact is there is no connection at all between eating tomatoes and cancers. Those who eat, plenty of tomatoes are now more apt to outlive those who do not, for the vegetable has a direct and beneficial action upon the stomach and kidneys. They should bo eaten whenever possible. Re- cently it was announced that the London Canner hospital had forbidden 111 patients in it from eating tonmtoes, as they were a predisposing cause to cancer. In response to numerous inquiries if there was any foundation to the rumor the chairman of the hospital committee, De. itlardden, an. 21o11110ed officially tisat " tomatoes neither predispose to nor excite oanoer formation, and that they are not Injurious to those suffering from the diocese, but on the con- trary are a wholesome article of diet par- ticularly so if cooked." This should be sufficient to dispel the illusion in this country too. Look to The Diet. Tho cholera. increases in Russia and else where as the weather grows warmer, and we must be prepared for it in this country as Cho hot season approaches. We must look to our diet as never before, for in the face of every dread disease we mustoousider as all important the diet, sponging, the bath and similar hygieniemeasures. One of the truest things e.bout modioine to -day is that we have less medication and more of proper diet and surromnnings, Put the patient in the most favorable condition to resist disease and ie is better than taking drugs, The truly scientific advances of medicine are based upon this. Medication comes in vogue as a fad or fashion, but diet and sanitary ettrroundiogs are always the acme. Seienee has stamped out of existence by hygiene tete dreaded plagues that dev- astated vast populations, and cholera and yellow fever are prevented from sweeping across thecouutry by quarantine, sanitary surromdbngs and proper diel Small -pox no longer spreads its contagion from one community to another because vaccination has boon used as a shield to stop it, Puerperal rover that formerly threatened the life and happiness of so many thousands of homes, is now prevented by its great enemy, aoepss. Cholera must be fenced in by quarantine, but everyone can help to place himself in a favorable condition by looking well to the diet. Nourishing diet is essential, and this must not be neglected for any mixture that may tempt the palate more. If our bodies are nourished well they can resist disease better. A. S. ATliiyossy, Id. D. Just to Fix the Style in Her Bead. She was seated before a long mirror in one of the largest milinery establielmments in Toronto, Two dainty creations of lane, straw, and flowers were balanced on her finger tips. She was gravely comparing their merits, while the saloawoman stood by smiling. And so her clearest friend castgght sight of her. "IVhy, Dara, you here ! Come help me to decide, How much did yon say this one was?" "Only 1119.42, awfully cheap," cooed the saleswoman, Ill try it on," The young lady turned to the glass; her friend watched her with envione eyes. ITow did Flora ever get so lunch money? "Lovely I" cried the saleewoman, as she toned from the mirror. "Which do you prefer, Dora?" "They are both lovely ," said Dora, in a faint, notlung•to•oat-eince.morning voice. "And (cite reasonable, too," went on Flora, "Now, if I decide to take this one, could 1 have that cluster of flowers moved just a trifle to the right?" "Certainly, noticing easier." "I'll try on the other before deciding," Dora could bear no more. She fled to the elevator. How poor and cheap looked the hat the had put on so proudly an hour ago, and she had meant to crush Flora with it I .Two hours later they met on King street. Dere glanced at her friend's head, "Yon had it sent home, S see," she said, "Sent home nothing, goodie ; didn't you see me wink at you ? Why, I had only 49 omits in my pocketbook all the time, but my old hat had to be trimmed over. I did 11 to gain timetofix the styles in my head, I oan do it beautifully now. Here's a sale . of imported flowers for 17 cents a bunoh ; let's go in and look at them," They went,. The '' Covenant." Most persons experienced in real estate ' matters have a wholesome dread of that part of a mortgage or deed known as the covenant. It has the effect of making the debt which has been contracted in respect of the land a personal obligation. The . property may change hands half a dozen times, assd ten or fifteen years afterwards the covenantor, wimo has perhape forgotten all about tine transaction, is called upon to redeem his promise. Sametfinee this causes innocent peraohs to suffer, particularly where an ancient covenant makes a' business man fail and takes what should go to legit- imate creditors. At present it person may be aced under a oovenant twenty years after the cause of Motion arose. There is a bill before the Legialabure to reduce the limit to to to yeare. The amendment does not appear to be unreasonable, His Last Will. An Irishman, who was pretty well to do but who had been ill for a long- time, thought he was going to die. Calling his wife to has bedside, he said to hers "Well me darling, I think I'm going to leave thee,"g " Sure then, Pat," said she ; ". nd ify ou • do, what shall I do with the money 2" Faith,"said hos " bury me Olean and ti"Aeddl mat t ". sol shad I co with Cho retnafndet? oho asked, ' Spend it at leisute " replied Pat." " Shall 1 epeud it before we bury you, or when we aro coming book ?" "No boded," said Pat ''i sp�ppond 11 when We're going, for I shan't ape watt you coming 1)7'01,