The Gazette, 1893-10-12, Page 2AOT WISELY, BUT i'
CHAPTERXXVIL
FOR A WOMAN'S SASE.
Lady .lean is right. Keith Athelston
has not left England.
His passage was taken, all his prepare
tions made, and then the very day befor
he was to sail for the New World he foun
himself laid prostrate by brain fever,
He was taken ill in Liverpool, .and hi
servant, being one of that rare class who
can give -faithful attendance, nursed him
devotedly. For weeks he lay hovering be
tween life and death, the strength and
vigour of the body fighting • against the
ravages of mental suffering, and the long
painful strain on brain and heart again'
which he had so long struggled. In hi
delirious frenzy his whole cry was fo
Lauraine. It was pitiful to see that stron
young manhood bowed down to a child's
'weakness. As dependent as an infant on
the hired services which bis wealth pro-
cured, but which was so different to the
tender ministry of love and friendship.
The discreet valet at times felt inclined
to send to Lady Vavasour,nd acquaint her
with his young master's danger; but pra
deuce withheld him. He -knew she was
married, and he feared to draw down his
master's anger by officious interference.
At let the doctors gave hope, and Keith
struggled back by slow degrees into con-
valescence, and saw his life given back to
his own keeping once more—life dull of hue
and sad enough, with all its gladness and
colour painted out by the ruthless hand of
disappointment—life for which he was in
no way grateful to the mercy that had
spared it; but still, life that he had to ac-
cept and take up, with all its tangled
threads and broken hopes.
i
look comes into his eyes, and his lips close
Itight under their thick moustache.
" What does it mean ?" he thinks, as he
e i reads the subtle tempting.i" Can Lauraine
I really have had any hand n this? I don't
- rbelieve it. No; I will not go. The snare
e is too plainly set."
d 1 And before he can have time to alter his
s mind he asks for Fen and ink, and dashes
! • off a firm but courteous refusal on the plea
' of his physicians ordering him to a warm
climate. -
" She shall never have to reproach me
again if I can help it, ' he says, to himself
as exhausted with even this small exertion
s he sinks back on his pillows. " She mike
t me selfish once. Will she do so now ?—now,
s when for her sake--"
✓ There is only a very small house party at
g Falcon's Chase when Keith Athelston's let-
ter arrives, and the master of the house
reads it with clouded brow. He has insist-
ed upon his wife's asking Lady Jean down,
and; despite her recent' bereavement, the
Lady Jean accepts the invitation. —
She is very subdued, very mournful,
lives a great deal in her own rooms, and al-
' together affords a very unobtrusive spec-
tacle of chastened sorrow. She is more than
ever gracious to her hostess, and dignified
to her host, and even Lady Etywnde's ob-
servant, eyes can see nothing in any way
suspicions. •
On the morning that Keith'eletter arrives
Lady Jean is not at the breakfast -table, and
Sir Francis is impatient to tell her the news
—so impatient in fact, that: for once he for-
gets the prudence she has so strictly enjoin-
ed, and sends her a note by her maid, asking
her to come into the small study adjoining
the library as soon as she can.
Lady Jean is annoyed at hie imprudence,
and in no way hurries herself to suit his
wishes. When she at last enters the study
she finds Sir Francis fuming at being kept
waiting, and decidedly unamiable.
" Well, what is it ?' she asks. -
He hands her Keith's letter, and she reads
it through. Her brows cloud; she throws
it aside impatiently. -
"The young fool !" she mutters.
In the long, dreary days of convalescence
he thought of Lauraine as he had never
thought of her yet—for a wide gulf seethed
to otretch between them now. He saw
the headlong and undisciplined passion of
his love for her in its true colours—saw to
what lengths it would have gone, to what
ruin it would have dragged her. and a
sense of shame and self-reproach filled his
heart.
It is when we are face to face with a great
danger, or a great sorrow, that the full and
respobsible sense of past wrong -doing seems
to come home to us, that the soul in its
mysterious workings awakens those feelings
of remorse and penitence that point the
way to a better and a braver life. -
stoma such thoughts as these came to
Keith now as he lay stretched on his couch
daring these dark winter days. He felt
weak enough to have uttered any prayer
just for Lauraine's presence, just to see the
pity in her eyes, to hear the thrill in her
voice as she would look at his changed face,
and speak her gentle compassion. At times
like these the slow hot tears of weakness
would creep into his eyes until he was fain
to turn his head away from his attendant's
gaze, and make pretence of sleep in order
to have freedom to indulge his grief at
leisure.
"I must never see her again, never, un-
less I have grown dull and cold, and can
greet her as a stranger," he thinks to him-
self. How strange that I should love her
so. I wonder will I ever be cured, or will
this be the ' one passion of my life,' _going
down to my grave with me even as -it has
filled all my days and hears ? Somehow, I
think it will. I find it so hard to forget
anything concerning her. Forget ! Why,
_there is not a look in iter eyes, a word front
her lips, not a dress or floe et she has worn
that I can forget ; not a summer day or a
seting morning, not a season in the year
that is not full of some memory of her. Oh,
my love, my love, and to think that you can -
be nothing to me—nothing !
" Shall Lever be old, I wonder ?—and
then shall I have ceased to care ?- Out of
all the world of women, will there be only
one tor whom my heart will beat, my pulses
thrill, my whole soul long and love? I have
tried to love other women—I have toil
Venn I love them ; but I don't think for
one moment I deceived myself, or them.
Men say the sins and follies of youth come
back to smite us as scourges in the after
years ; but [ suppose love has kept me pure
in a way, and will do so. It was never sin
to me till her own act made it so, for she
seemed always minein my thoughts and
dreams, and I alone seemed to have the
right to her. But now=well she was wiser
than I when she bade me leave her. This
last year has only made us both more
wretched. And she is not happy—my
darling! Ab, when she loved me there was
not that sad look in her eyes, and that
brute is not even faithful. But of that she
knows nothing, and, bad as I am, I wouldn't
tell her so. Let . her keep her faith un-
shakenand live her lite of duty. Why
I
should make it harder than it is 9
Everyyear now will take her farther and
further from me, and yet I know she loves
me. I wonder what held me back when I
bade her farewell ? I could have taught her
forgetfulness then, if never before ; and yet
—and yet, thank God, I did not. I think
to see her eyes reproach me •would be worse
than this; I should feel inclined to kill my-
sel€ and—her. Oh God ! what fools -men
can be for a woman's sake !"
Someone comes softly into the room ; it
is Andrews, the careful and attentive: He
brings a letter lit his hand, and lays it down
on the table by his young master's side.
Keith turns reward him, and holds out
his thin transparent hand for the missive.
He tears open the envelope, and as he looks
at the address- a. flush of colour steals over
has face.
" Falcon's Chase, Brookfield North-
' • umberlibnd.
u Me DEAR ATHELSTONE,
" We have only just heard of your
illness, and are much concerned about it,
more especially as you are alone at an hotel,
and must be dependent on quite alien ser-
vices. As soon as ever your health permits,
will you come to us here and let us try to
nurse you back to health once more ? As
the weather Is so unusually mild, I do not
think you will find the air of Northumber-
land too bracing. Lauraine, of course, joins
with me in this invitation. In fact, we.
can't hear of a refusal. I will meet you in
London, and come down with you as soon
as ever your physicians give permission for
the journey. With my kindest regards,
and sympathy from all mutual friends here,
"Believe me, very sincerely yours,
"FRANCIS S. VAVASOUR."
Keith reads the letter steadily through'-
tothe end„ and his face .€;rows .white as the
pare as he so reads it. mut a new, stern
On entering the smaller room shehas
drawn the door after her, but not quite
closed it. The velvet curtains sweep
down, and no one from the library can see
them, but the sound of their voices is audi-
ble. It happens that Lauraine enters the
r outer room for a book, and is just taking it
down fromthe case when the sound of her
own name, uttered by Lady Jean'e voice,
strikes sharply on her ear.
" Does Lauraine know ?"
"No," answers her husband's voice. "As
you advised, I said nothing about it. Of
course, had Athelstone accepted, I would
have told her that I had heard of his danger-
ous illness, and asked him here to set him
up again."
" How excessively provoking !" continues
Lady Jean. "Depend on it, Frank, this
is a blind. Either Keith suspects we
know of his love for your wife, or she has
been beforehand." -
" My dear Jean !" exclaims Sir Francis-
Leuraine waits to hear no more. Aston-
ishment has kept her spellbound. Now she
turns from the room with a sickening hor-
rible sense of shame in her heart, with the
blood dying -the white face, with all the
dignity of womanhood stung and outraged
by. this unexpected discovery.
Her husband and Lady Jean are cognizant
of Keith's mad passion for herself; have
actually plotted to.bring him under her roof,
to throw them together once again. For
what purpose?
Like a lightning flash the whole terrible
truth seems to burst upon her. Suspicions,
hints, all take new shapes by the light of
this new discovery—her . husband's long
friendship for Lady Jean, his indifference to
herself. But that he could stoop so low as
to plan his w fe's dishonor for the sake of
his own freedom-- It seems to her al-
most incredible.
The whole pitfall 'opened for her
feet now confrocts her fully and clearly.
If Keith had accepted, if ; he had
come here -she unconscious of the invita-
tion, and unable to oppose it once so accept-
ed—what then ?
" Oh, my darling," she half sobs, " thank
God you were brave and true to your better
self !- They may suspect our love, but, as
there is a Heaven above, they shall never
shame it to their own baseness !"
She kneels by her' bed in an agony of
weeping. Fear, shame, rage, disgust, sweep
over her by turns. She sees the whole
plot, and her own long blindness, and yet
she knows she is powerless to resent either f
If her husband accuses her of loving Keith
she cannot deny it, and to explain to a mind
so coarse and base : the struggle and the
sufferings that love has cost her, would only
bring down ridicule and win her no belief.
She feels quite helpless. eller enemy
knows her secret, and her evil _mind will
colour it and send it flying abroi.d, and she
is powerless to resent, or to deny.
A loathing, a horror of herself—of thein
comes upon her. It seemed to her scarcely
possible that they could have sunk so low,
could have plotted anything so evil. And
then bitter thoughts come into her mind.
Of what use to try to do right, to struggle,
and sacrifice as she has done ? Duty has
brought to her only added shame, only a
crueller trial !
There is but one grain of comfort tie her
nowin all her sorrow. It is that K eith has
been brave and true to his word, that for
her sake he has forfeited self for once.
"lead he listened, had he come, he would
have been a,coward, ".she says to herself, and
then the thought of his danger, his weak-
ness, comes over her; and she weeps wildly
and passionately in her loneliness. • She
dares say no word of sympathy, dares show
no sign; she, too, must appear cold, unmov-
d, uncaring.
" Oh, dear Heaven !`" she prays
in her sorrow and her pain.
"¢ Where will it end—where will it
end? Will my strength endure for my
life?"
She had never felt so helpless, so desper-
ate as now.
She could not think of any course of
action to pursue, -and yet she knew she
court not overlook this outrage to herself:
That ohe should have under her roof as
guest a woman whose position with her own
husband she could no' longer doubt, was
impossible. All her pride rose in arms
against such a possibility, • and yet beyond
all -things . she - dreaded to explain to. Sir
Francis her reasons, and bear his hateful
tauntsand sneers against herself. -
`,Anda;. net I lamelessw" $he infeens,
pr slug her hands against cher blot and
tli -obbing temples. sc. What can I say for
myself ?»
As""s`lhe-kkneelse there, a •knock comes at
her door. She flees hurriedly, and opens
it; andconfronts—her husband.
He conies in. He does not rook at her.
"Lauraine," he begins, "I just wanted to
say a word to you. - I have heard some bad
news of young Athelstone ; I wanted to
tell yon. He has been -dangerously ill—is
lying alone and friendless at an hotel in
Liverpool. I wish you would write and
ask --him to come here as soon as he can
travel—it seems such a sad thing, you
know."
He stops abruptly. He has repeated his
lesson, and feels a little uncomfortable.
Lauraine lifts her head very proudly.
tier voice, as she speaks, goes through him
like the touch of ice.
" Has Lady Jean counselled you to say
all this ? Her anxiety and—yours, for Mr.
Athelstone are really most praiseworthy.
All the same, you have had his answer to
your disinterested invitation. It is scarce-
ly necessary for me to repeat it, even if I
wished."
He looks at her with a dark flush mount-
ing to his brow, but flinches beneath the
steady challenge of her eyes.
" What do you mean?" he demands,
hoarsely and sullenly.
"I was in the library half -an -hour ago,"
says Lauraine, calmly. " Only for a mo-
ment—do not fancy I stooped to intention-
al eaves -drooping. 1 think it is for you to
say whether Lady Jean Salomans—or-1
leave your house immediately.
CHAPTER XXVIII.
WHAT WILL BE THE COST?
There is a moments silence, then Sir
Francis turns and confronts her with a face
of sullen rage.
" What the devil do you mean ?" he says,
fiercely. " Are you going to insult her ?"
" I think the insult is to me," says •
Lauraine, very quietly. "I have been
blind e, long time; but if you can discuss
my actions with another woman in the
familiar manner I heard you discussing
them with Lady Jean, it says enough to
convince me of the terms of your acquaint-
anceship. I have no desire for any open
scandal. You can explain to your friend
that her presence here is no longer desirable.
That is all."
"All 1" scoffs Sir Francis, savagely. "And
do you suppose I'm going to be dictat-
ed to by you as to who stops in my house,
or not?,A nice model of virtue andpropriety
you are, to 'preach to other women! A
beggar, who married - me for my money,
just as one of the vilest women would ; have
done—a woman who has been carrying on a
secret intrigue of her own for years, only
is too devilish clever to be found out."
Lauraine stops him with a gesture ofen-
finite scorn. - -
" What you say is -untrue. That I•mar-
ried yon without any pretence of . love you
know. I made ''no secret of it, and my
mother and "yourself. both tried your'ut-
most to persuade ma into it. But since I
married you, I have at least been true.
Secret intrigues, as you call them, are for.
women of Lady Jean's . stamp, not mine."
""And what about -your own friendship
for Keith Athelstone ?" sneers her husband,
" Do you deny he is your lover ?"
" No," answers .Lauraine, turning very
white, but still keeping her voice Steady in
its cold contempt. " But his love is worthy
of the name ; it is not a base, degrading
passion that steeps itself in deceit—that,
holding one face to the world, has another
for the partner of its baseness. Keith has
loved me from his boyhood. I was faithless
to hint, in a way ; but I was not wholly to'
blame. For long after we met agai.n'I
never suspected but that the old love was
dead and buried. - Whets. I found it was
not--"
She stops abruptly, and a sudden angry
light comes into her eyes. "Why do I
stop to explain? You—you cannot even
imagine what a pure, self-denying love
may be capable of! I think you have had
your answer in his letter. He knows better
than to palter with temptation. He has
more respect for me, than you who claim
to be—my husband."
His eyes droop in momentary shame,
but the rage in his heart is boiling with
fiercer fury. "A fine thing for you to talk
to me of your love for another man—of his
for you. Pshaw! as if all men's love is not
alike. Do you take me for a fool? You never
loved me, and since your child died we have
been almost strangers, and you have had
your lover with you often enough. That
he has not accepted this invitation is to me
no proof of what you call virtue. Perhaps
he is tired of you. It is more likely.
All the blood seems to rush from
Lauraiue's heart to her .• face at this
insult. She confronts • him with a
passion of indignation. - " How dare
you ?" she cries ; and then something
seems to rise in her throat and choke
her. The utter futility of words—the sense
of her own imprudence, confront her like a
barrier to the belief she would invoke.
He sees he has stung her now almost be-
yond endurance, and the knowledge rouses
all that is worst in him, and prompts but
further outrage. _
That his own wrong -doing is discov-
ered, that another woman has fallen where
.she—his wife—stood firm, are but added
incentives to his jealous fury and defeated
ends.
" How dare I ? You will find that I dare
more than that, madam. I think you would
not look much better than I if we had a
'show up,' and as I live if you insult Lady
Jean I will- institute proceedings against
you—with Keith Athelstone as co-respond-
ent."
And he leaves the . room with a brutal
laugh.
Lauraine stands there as if turned to
stone. Forthe first _time she feels how
powerless she is—how helpless is any wom-
an when the man who has sworn to protect
and honour her, turns round on her and in-
sults her with the - very weakness he is
bound. to,respect:
She knows her husband is not faithful—
that the very presence of this woman be-
neath her roof ie an outrage to all decency
and morality, and Tee if she opposes that
presence, she herself is threatened wfrth a"
life-long injury ; nay, more, Keith will be
dragged in- to shield the Sharer of this
flagrant guilt, which is before her very eyes,
and which she seems powerless to resent.
She grows desperate asesbe thinks of it-
as she looks at the case from every side, and
yet sees ne wan of escape or justice. '
Of what use is innocence to a .woman
Iioganee*
ged throng
tha`usend-t
_scandals f i
and char
he mire of lie gnlsy'
gues wili u
l. ebriiter, d thous nd
to be ma`gnified=aud rdtaied-
d with''She"
vile auspieions
will be . public sport, a public shame.:
And Lauraine knew that . this would be,her,
portioh it she did not agree to hide : the
guilt of another woman, and tagitly accept.
the charge laid against herself.
As she thought of it, all that was best
and purest in her nature rose in revolt. All
the courage and strength that had given
her power to resist her lover, seemed to
array themselves against the brutal tyranny
and shameful outrage she had been bidden
to accept.
'° I will not do it ; I will not !" she cries
aloud, as she paces to and fro her room:
Her whole body seems in a fever ; " her,
thoughts are wild and confused ; her tem-
ples throb with a dull and heavy pain.'
"After all I am rightly puniahed," she
thinks,and a sob rises in her throat, -and
she throws herself wearily down • on the
couch by her window. "I was false -to
him, and it was -wrong to allow hint to be
so much with me, once 1 knew he loved me
still. Now, whichever way I look at it,
there seems nothing but shame and" dire
honour.
It seemed to her right—nay, but common
justice—that site should suffer ; but she
hated to think of Keith being condemned
to like torture, of the shame that would be
about his life, did her husband carry out his
threat. Where, indeed, would the results
Of this fatal love end.? To what depths of
misery had it not led, and still seemed to
be leading thein ?'
Divorce had always seemed to Lauraine a
shameful thing—a necessary evil sometimes,
brit still something with a stigma of dis-
grace; that, whether merited or not, always
dogged and haunted a woman all her life.
And now she could plainly see ,to what end
her husband' and Lady Jean were driving
her as their scapegoat.
-By her means they wished to vindicate
themselves ; and, remembering how. easily
their plot might have been carried out, she
shudders and turns sick .with loathing and
shame utterable. "
(TO BE CONTINUED,)
SAW A GHOST AT SEA:
Why a Merchant Captain Abandoned Mis
• Profession and Became Landsman.
Sailors are great for seeing ghosts.
Whether Jack has keener vision than land-
lubbers, whether the spirit fraternity have
a predilection for the s sa, or whether these
seafaring waifs were buried in mid -ocean
and ,find it • impossible to rest easy, are
questions hard to answer.' But certainly
more of them are hes, d at .sea than on
land. This -story was told a reporter for
the San Francine Call by a retired sea
captain, now manager of a hotel at one of
the famous tourist resorts of the world.
He is an American, intelligent, well read, a
man of strong sense, who has shown himself
singularly free from the usual sort of su-
perstitious feeling. • Yet this experience
drove him, to -abandon the sea. It happen-
ed a good many years ago, when he • was in
command of a sailing vessel in the Pacific.
They were returning to San Francisco from
Sydney with 'several passengers . aboard.
One of .these was a San Francisco, broker,
who had some love trouble and had
been drinking very heavily, and threatening
suicide ever since the ship leftSydney. Be --
cause he tires drinking no one paid any par-
ticular attention to these threats.
"One night," said the captain, telling
the story, "I was on deck when I saw this
man come up the companion and walk aft.
He came forward in a minute or two, then
walked aft again and did not return. ' I
thought no more about it and a little while
after turned in. Ne xt day this passenger
was not to be found. The ship was thor-
oughly searched half a dozen times, but he
was evidently not on board. We concluded
that he - had jumped or fallen, overboard
and felt very badly that no more attention
had been paid to his threats. Well, a month
went by, 1 was again on deck, about amid-
ships, when I saw this same man come up
the companion, walk aft again and not re-
turn. As soon as I could move I rushed
aft and spoke to the man at the wheel.. He
seemed dazed; . 'Did you see a man come
aft ?' The sailor nodded without speak-
ing. 'Who was it ?' I demanded. Then,
with an effort, the man found his v oice and.
declared it to be M., the passenger Rho had'
so mysteriously disappeared. -I was badly
shaken up, but had all hands called
and the ship again searched, but with
no result. A • thorough hunt next
morning gave no better result, but the next
night I again saw my lost passenger come
up the companion, walk aft and return, then
go aft and disappear. Again the man at
the wheel saw him, and again a search of
the ship wad barren of result. It began to
get around among the crew, and we were
all in a quandary over the mystery. _The 1 t
D VE
President: Cleveland's postal' deeiverieg -
average -800 letters a day.
Ail uncut diamond looks very much likes
a bit of the -best gam arabic.
Greek sculptors often use3 eyes of glass
or crystals in the faces of their statues.
The weeping willow is a Turkish and
Syrian plant. It was first described in 1692.
Hanging in chains was abolished, with
many other cruel punishments, in 1834.
Frogs, which are a valuable food crop in
Belgium, are protected by law in that coun-
try.
The first naval expeditionon record was
that of the Argonauts, probably pirates, B.
C. 1263.
The world in 1888 had 791,425 schools
for elementary instruction, with 50,816,000
pupils.
The Ragged School Union, for the in-
struction of very poor children, was founded
in 1844.
Cuba has 192 coffee plantations, 700 sugar
plantations,. 4,500 tobacco estates, 3,200
cattle farms and 1,700 email farms devoted
to various products.
For fear that some rival chemist would
imitate his invention, a Louisville chemist,
who had patented an ink eraser, has de-
stroyed the formula.
The greatest domes in the world are those
of St. Peter's, St. Paul's, the Invalides, in
-Paris ; St. Isaac's, in St. Petersburg,and tee
Capitol, in Washington. "
The stock of paid notes for five years in
the Bank of England is about 77,745,000 in
number, and they fill 13,400 boxes, which,
if placed side by side, would reach two and
one-third miles.
The use of the flannel shroud dates back
to acts of parliament 18 and 19.Charles II.,
which, to encourage the woolen trade in
England, compelled that all bodies should
be so protected.
A pensioner of Clearfield, Pa., who signed
a patentmedicine testimonial, certifying
that he had recovered his health through a
use of the preparation, finds his pension
stopped on the strength of his certificate.
In 1761 a Glasgow, Scotland, paper an-
nounced the marriage of David Lincoln to
Catherine Crow, his fifth wife, and continu-
ed :
ontinu-ed: ".He is 71. His first wifewas aDutch
woman, whose name he has forgot. The
rest were Scotch."
A coon, with a leather strap around its
neck, which was lost by a young woman at
Chester; W. Va., about fifteen years ago,
was found the other day by ahunter in the
woods near Chester. The animal still had
the 'collar around its neck. •
The area of British India, including the
dependent states, amounts to. 1,500,000
squere miles. There are. 2,000 towns with
a population of 1,000 or upwards, and
nearly 716,000 villages, comprising 53,000,-
000 dwelling places for man. The popu-
lation amounts to 287,000,060.. The males.
exceed the females by 6,000.
A venerable clergyman has resigned his
charge in San Francisco because, as he as-
serted, the ladies of the choir giggled and
the men joked while he was preaching his
• most eloquent sermons, and aanoved him
so much that he was often tempted to sit
down in the midst of his discourse and let
them do all the,talking.
One sees Arabs coming into Constantino-
ple with a -donkey -load of wood, which
they sell for 3 francs. ` They have come
twenty-five miles with it, sell it and next
day ride the donkey back: As a meal costs
them but 2 cents, the wood nothing and
the donkey does all the work, what seems
a small profit is really a good one.
It must be a terrifying revelation (to
those foreign ladies who kiss their cats) that
has been made by Professor Fioeci, the
Italian chemist. He found by experiment
that when a cat licks its lips it spreads over
them a saliva in which there are swarms of
minute bacilli not free from danger to hu-
man beings. When he inoculated rabbits
and guinea pigs with this noxious substance
they died within twenty-four hours, and he
has come to the conclusion that it is dan-
gerous for ladies to indulge in the habit of
kissing their cats.,
Very few people are aware that the pearl
oyster is not in any way like the oysters
which we eat. It is of an entirely different
species, and as a matter of fact the shells
of the so-called pearl oysters are of far
more value to those engaged in pearl fishing
than the pearls. There are extensive pearl
fisheries in the Gulf of California, and some
of the finestpearls have been taken from
those waters. In 1881 one pearl—a black
one—was sold for $10,000, and every year -
since that time many pearls have been taken
from the beds in the California gulf valued
at over $7,500 each.
Some iagenious Paris dealers are report-
ed to have invented a way of enhancing
he market value of their wares. It is "said
hat they color ordinary oranges a deep red
making them look like mandarins, which
fetch much higher prices. They also tint
pineapples to make them look more attrac-
tive, and dye the common white straw-
berries a lovely red. Melons are being
treated in a similar way and tinted a line
orange, their flavor being increased by in-
jecting an essence of melon. The latest
development of this business is in connec-
tion with pears, which are dyed red for" a
third of theirsize and blue below, thus.,
presenting the national colors when peeled.
These are said to be in demand for dessert
on account of their novelty.
next night he did not appear. It was very
dark and cloudy, as it continued to be for
several nights. At last, however, one night
he again came up the companion, walked
aft and returned. As he was again going aft
I started after him, when he instantly dis-
appeared. Greatly bewildered, I turned
hastily around; and the next minute caught
eight of him again walking aft. I ran after
him and-came"up to him, but he disappear-
ed again, and as I stopped I saw him some
distance ahead, walking aft, then he dis-
appeared entirely. I couldn't stand it—the
apparition, whatever it was, made one or
two appearances after that, but there was
no attempt to catch it, and when I reached
San Francisco I quit the sea, and never
made another voyage until, as a passenger ,
I left the country to come here."
The King of Siam is a lithe and hand-
some man, with a high, intellectual fore-
head, fine eyes, and good features. He is
simple and unaffected in manners, --and of
an amiable disposition, but possesses con-
siderable dignity, and is every inch a
king. He has two wives. By the first he
has four childrenand by the second he has
three children. He counts amonghis rela-
tions two ,fall -=and twenty half-brothers !
But he has a revenue of £2,000,000.
The beet sugar industry is about to re-
ceive new life in the Province of Quebec,
"Messrs. M. Lefebvre & Co. shaving bought
the property .and plant of the late company
at Berthier. They have about 1,-200 "acres
of beets available for this season's opera.
tions, and expreet.themselves as quite • san-
guine of success. Their progress will be
watched with much interest, for if the en-
terprise is successful it metes anew source
of wealth for ; Canada and especially the
Pro 1lhce of Quebec.,
Indian genius analyzed beauty before
there was a West, and taking suggestions
from spark end dewdrop, applied them to
archit ecture.
Leather possesses such excellent qualities
for the many purposes to which it is put.
that it would seem idle to seek a substitute.
Nevertheless, there are many persons who
while they find that leather serves as an ef-
fectual protective covering for the foot, find
also that it is often obstinate in adapting it-
self to the requirements of individual feet
or to the more or less physical abnormal]
ties to which so many are subject. itt
such cases, if co.nfort is to be expected, only
the most supple and yielding quality should
be worn. At the same time, of course, it
should be waterproof -and durable. These
qualities, so far as we have been able to
judge, belong in a satisfactory degree to an
interesting and new material called "fiexua'
fibra." It appears to be a flax -derived ma-
terial, suitably prepared and oiled so
that to all appearances itis leather. _It is
particularly supple and flexible and =eaiens,
-
a .polish equally well with the best kind"
calf.
asst Re
Viston
at
vac
ale
we
A fine 4s
Granite
of every style. Al
BEST NEW
We arc therefor(
Monuments and H
LY REDUCED Prices
It will pay yon t
jour order.
VAN
W! AT YOU DJ
U t
• `L
z
▪ te
t• ee
te• c;
U;
c
c4 �
rn cd
'P v
G
to
• tr• '
J'~
5-4
Cd
r,
s~
1
Carpets,
Stair Carp
Window C
Window =i,
Lace Curt
per set,
Art Muslin
coiore.
Tabling.
Cretonne-
SaiisLury
Verona Co
Printed Cl
Wool Dela:
Pink and ci
and est
Nuns Veiii
Net Veilia;
Navy and 1
Lawn Fien
Lt.syu Ghee
Blouse stn
Flar_neiett',
Shaker Fla
Carpet wax
caving w
Black Dreg
Black Sat e,
Velvets &na
Brown Hol
Valises.
Lunch Bas
Churns.
Butter Tra
Washtubs.
Crockery"
G lass -,are.
Hardware.
Paten: Me?
Top O: ions
Potato Onii
Dutch sets.
Garden See
Brushes. el?
Washing S<
Whiting.
Raw Oil.
Lye.
Turpentine
Castor Oil,
Stone Crocl
Earthenwa
Mills Pars.
Milk Pais.
Wasli Boils
Tea Kettles
do mF]
Dish Paus. •
Felt Hats, j
Straw Rats
Lace Friuli
Ties and Cc
Top Shirts.
Lhess Shirt
Scissors_.
Knives at,d
Spools.
Teapots.
Canned Goc
Plow Lines.
Bed Cords.
Marble,.
Wire Cloth
Baby Ca1Ti
Croquet.
Spices.
WE KEEP EV€RYTltt
cNO. BF
FIRE
I s ar
1 I ()
RErnrsmcTs
Wellington Matua
Waterloo Mutual
Perth Mutual F arc
Economical 5iutu
Mercantile insure
Etna Insurance et
Give Jo'
PETER H.
For
General
Ag
Call and get your W
Or call and get
Dr. Wilford Hall's H
nelous Triumph 0
clue," at half form
Or ANY INSUE:ANC:El
farm property.
Or any writing you roc
Or a loan on real estat
CALL A NrvWex.