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The Gazette, 1893-10-12, Page 3• eetes WISELY, CHAPTERXXVIL k look comes into his eyes, and his lips dies FOR A WOMAN'S SAKE. tight under their thick moustache. " What does it mean ?" he thinks, as h • Lady .lean is right. Keith Athelstone,reads the subtle tempting. " Can Leurai has not left England. really have had any hand in this? I don' His passage was taken, all his prepare- abelieve it. No; I will not go. The snar tions made, and then the very day before is too plainly set." he was to sail for the New World he found And before he can have time to alter hi himself laid prostrate by brain fever, ' mind he asks for ren and ink, and dashe He was taken ill in Liverpool, and his ! off a firm but coureous refusal on the plea, servant, being one of that rare class who { of his physicians ordering him to a war can give _ faithful attendance, nursed him : climate. - devotedly. For weeks he lay hovering be- ;the shall never have to reproach m tween life and death, the strength and again if I can help it," he says, to himself vigour of the body fighting against the as exhausted with even this small exertion l ravages of mental suffering, and the long, he sinks back on his pillows. " She called painful strain on brain and heart against me selfish once. Will she do so now ?—no which be had so long struggled. In his when for her sake—"e delirious frenzy his whole cry was for There is only a very small house party a r e e, lie e s s m e w, t Lauraine. It was pitiful to see that strong 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 LadyJean accepts the invitation. - She is very subdued very mournful, with his young master's danger; but pra- together affords a very unobtrusive spec - young manhood bowed down to a child'a weakness. As dependent as an infant on the hired services which his 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 and acquaint her lives a great deal in her own rooms, and al dence withheld him. He -knew she was married, and he feared to draw down his master's anger by officious interference. At lava 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. In the long, dreary days of convalescence he thought of Lauraine as he had never thought of her yet—for a wide gulf seemed to stretch 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 reapobsible 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. Some 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 he the ' one passion of my life,' _going blood dying the white face, with all the down to my grave with me even as it has dignity of womanhood stung and outraged i by this unexpected discovery. 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 suspicious. On the morning that Keith's letter arrives Lady Jean is not at the breakfast -table, and Sir Franeis is impatient to tell her tlie'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 his 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. On entering the smaller room she. has 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 miters the outer room for a book, and is just taking it down fram.the 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." - " fly dear Jean !" exclaims Sir Francis Lauraine 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 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 her eyes, a word from her lips, not a dress or floir er she has worn that I can forget ; not a slimmer day or a spring morning, not a season in the year that is not full of some memory of her. Oh, niy love, my Iove, and to think that you can be rothing to me—nothing ! ' "Shall 1.ever be old, I wonder?—and then shall I have ceased to care ?- Out of all the world of women, will there be only one for whom my heart will beat, my pulses thrill, my whole soul long and love? I have tried to love other women—I have told them 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 Iove has kept me pure ed—what then ? - Her husband and Lady Jean are cognizant of Keith's mad passion for herself, have actually plotted tobring hien under her roof, to throw thin 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 wart"e'a dishonor for the sake of his own freedom-- It seems to her al- most incredible. The whole pitfall opened for her feet now confronts 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= 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 seeme3 to have the right to her. llut 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 darlingAb, 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- shaken, and live her lite of duty. Why should I make it harder than it is ' Every year now will take her further 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 swould he worse than this; I should feel inclined to kill my- self and—her. Oh God ! what fuols -Hien can be for a woman's sake !" z Someone comes softly into the room ; it . is Andrews, the careful and attentive.. He brings a letter in his hand, and lays it down on the table by his young master's side. - , There is but one grain of comfort tb her " 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 If her husband accuses her of loving Keith she cannot deny it, and to explain to a mind so coarse and base the straggie 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 abroed, and she. is powerless to resent, or to deny. A loathing, a horror of herself—of them— 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 tras brought to her only added shame, only a crueller trial ! Keith turns toward hint, and holds out his thin transparent hand -for the missive. He tears open the envclape, and as he looks at the address- a flush of colour steals over his face. - " Falcon's Chase, Brookfield North- umberlend. " My DEAR ATHBLSTONE, " We have only just •heard of your. illness, and are much concerned aboutit, 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 eau 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 its 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, i`FnANCrs S. VAvesoUR." Keith reads the letter steadily through' nowinall her sorrow. It is that Keith has been brave and true to his word, that for her sake he has forfeited self for once. "Had he listened, had he come, he would have been &coward,",she says toherself, 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- eed, 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 could not overlook this outrage to herself: That nhe 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 tothe end, and his fade 00W8 white as the Francis her reasons, and bear his hateful papal es he so reads it ata new, stent taunts and sneers against herself. 'And I am met blameless ..she= groans, pr anzg ° her Hands against her hot and th -sobbing temples. i What can I say kr myte'f?" Al--she—kneels—there, a knock comes at her door. She rises hurriedly, and opens it, and confronts—het husband�-/ - % He conies in. He does not ok 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_himto come here as soon as he can travel—it - seems such a sad thing, you know." He stops abruptly. He has repeated his lesson, andfeelsa little uncomfortable- Lauraine lifts her head very proudly. Iler voice, as she speaks, goes through him like the touch of ice. " Has Lsdy, 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 ine to repeat it, even if I wished." He looks at her with a dark flush mount- ing to his brow, but fiinches 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—I leave your house:immediately. CHAPTER XXVIII. l WHAT WILL BE THE COST? There is a moment s 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 a 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 SirFranois, 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 and propriety you are, to preach to other women! A beggar, who married me for my money, just as one ofthe 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 of in- finite scorn. " What you say is untrue. That.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 me 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 pasaion that steeps itself in deceit—that, holding one face to the world, has another for the partner of its baseness. K eith has loved me from his boyhood. I was faithless to hili,, in a way ; but I was not wholly to blame. For long after we met againd'I never suspected but that the old love was dead and buried. When 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 Lauraine'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 isnot faithful— that the very presence of this woman be- neath her roof is an outrage to all decency and morality, and yet if she opposes that presence, she herself is threatened efth a - life-long injury ; nay,. more, Keith will be dragged in- to shield the sharer of this flagrantguilt, which.is before her veryeyes, and which she seems powerless to resent. She grows desperate asabe thinks of it - as shelooks at the case from every side, and,,. yet sees no wag of escape or justice. ' Of what use is Innocence to a woman dose_ name ged thong .= he mire ed ainWe- quirt' thousandt' gigues will chatter, a thousand•; scandals fi', to be maanified'Mid daltatilhai and char • ' with vile suspicions. She will be. °ublic sport, 'a public _shame.: And Lauraine knew that this would be her. portion it she did not agree to hide :the guilt of another woman, and tagidly 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 punished," 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 him 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 die. honour. It seemed to her right -nay, but common justice—that she 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 them '1 Divorce had always seemed to Lauraine a shameful thing—a necessary evil sometimes, but 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 husbsnd. 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.) ter,. SAW A GHOST AT SEA: Why a Merchant Captain Abandoned His - Profession and Became Landsman.. Sailors are great for seeing ghosts. Whether Jack has keenerviaion than "lend. lubbers, whether the spirit fraternity have a predilection for the ssa, or whether these seafaring waifs were buried in mid -ocean and .find it impossible to reat easy, . are questions hard to answer.• But certainly more of them are heard at . sea than on. land. This -story was told a reporter for -the San Francisco Call by a retired sea captain, now manager of a hotel at one of the , famous tourist resorts of the world. He is an_Amerioan, intelligent, well read, a • nman' of strong sense, who has shown himself singularly free from the usual sort of su- perstitious feeling. Yet this experience drove him-ito.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 left Sydney. Be- cause he was 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 tbis man come up the companion and walk aft. He came forward in a minute or two, then walkea 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, I 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 wasbarren of result. It began to get around among the crew, and we were all in a quandary over the mystery. The 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 sight of him again walking aft. I ran after him and -came up to himr 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 children, and by the second he has three children. He counts among his rela- tions two ;full 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. having 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 express themselves as quite • san- ginne of success: Their ,progress will be watched with -much interest, for if the en- terprise is successful it meas anew source of wealth for Canada and especially the Pa -WO -ice of Quebec. W:fRl-D OVER- . President --_,Cleveland's -postal- deliveries -- .average 800 letters a day. An uncut diamond looks very much likes a bit of the best gam arabic. Greek sculptors often uses 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 expedition on record was - that of the Argonauts, probably pirates, B. C. 1263. The world in 1883 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 tree Capitol, in Washington. - The stock of paid notes for five years in the Bank.of England is about 77,745,Q00 in numbereand 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 80 protected. - A pensioner of Clearfield, Pa., who signed a patent medicine testimonial, certifying that he had recovered his health through' a use of the preparation, finds hisension stopped on the strength of his certificate. In 1761 a Glasgow, Scotland, paper an- nounced the marriage of David Lincoln to Catherine Crow, bis fifth wife, and continu- ed " He is 71. His first wife was a.Dutch 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 a hunter 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. 1,500,009 square 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 287,000,000.. 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 annoyed 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 corning into Constantino- ple With a .donkey-lond of wood, which they sell for 3 franca ` 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 beenmade by Professor Fiocci, 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, end 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 pears fisheries in the Gulf of California, and some of the finest pearls have been taken from those waters. In 1881 one pearl—a black one—was sold for $10,000, and every year since that time mauy pearls have been taken from the beds in the California gulf valued at over $7,500 each. Some iagenious Paris dealersarereport- ed to have invented a way of enhancing - the market value of their wares. It is .said that 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 fine 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. Indian genius analyzed beauty before there was a West, and taking suggestions from spark grad 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 edapting it- self to the requirements of individual, feet • . or to the more or less physical abnormali- - ties to which so nlany are subject. In such .cases, if comfort is to be expected, only the most supple and yielding quality should be worn. Atthe same ti.aie, 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 aa_ interesting and new material called " flexes' fibra." It appears to be a flax=derived ma- terial, suitably prepared and oiled Eo Alar to all appearances itis leather. It is particularly supple and flexible and treases a polish equally well with the best Wit` Cr " s, calf. s . suet Re. t a n- .141 ai titt.rbie \tV 0 A fine As Granite of every style, All BEST NEW ' We arc- tliereTore 1'Mionnn,ents and h LY REDUCED Prices It will pay you ti -Jour order. VANS 1 Mita YOU _pf:1 Carpets,, Stair Carp Window Ci Window H Lace Curt per se: Art t1OSI1L colored Tabl ing. Cretonnes. Salisbury S Verona Co. Printed c"1 Woc•1 Deiaii Pini: and and eve Nuns' Veils Net Veiling Navy and ti Lawn Vict Lawii chee' Blouse stri Fianneiett; Shaker Fla: Carpet war Weaving e' Black Dres Black Sate( Velvets anq Brown Hot' Valises. Lunch Has: Churns. Butter Tra- ' Washtubs. Crockery. Glassware. Hardware. , Patent Med Top Onions Potato ()nit Dutch sets. Garden See Brushes, all Washing Sc Whiting. Raw Oil. Lye. ''turpentine Castor Oil, Stone Crocl Earthenwa3 Milli Pars.. Milk Pails. Wash Boils Tea Kettles do copi Dish Pans. Felt Bats. j Straw Hats Lace Friili, Ties and Co Top Shirts. Dress Shirt Scissor_. Knives aril Spool,. eapots. Canned Goc Plow Lines. Bed Cords. Marbles. Wire Clothe Baby Carrie Croquet. Spices. IE KEEP EVERYTHtf cJ NO. BF TT FIRE l1 .s� tsar BERT:ES YTS: Wellington '_r1utua Waterloo Mutual 1 Perth Mutual Fire Economical Mutut Mercantile insu_a: Etna ;-.surance Cc G-ive Jo: PETER H: For General Ag Call and get your Wi Or call era get Dr. Wilford Hall's H' nelous Triumph 0 eine," at half foriri Or LLT IiNSBPANCE., farm property. Or any writing you req Or a loan on real estat CALL ANrwa.$.