HomeMy WebLinkAboutThe Huron News-Record, 1894-12-05, Page 6A FRIEND
Speak!' through the laoothbay (Me.) Register,
of the beneficial results be bas received from
a regular use of Ayer's Fills. Be says: "I
was feeling sick and tired and my stomach
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of remedies, but none seemed to give me
relief until I was induced to try the old relia-
ble Ayer's Pills. I have taken only one
box, but I feel like a new man. I think they
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urge upon all who are in need of a laxative
to try Ayer'8 Pills. They will do good."
For all diseases of the Stomach, Liver,
and Bowels, take
AYER'S PILLS
Pref redbyDr. J. C. Ayer & Co., Lowell, Masa.
Every Dose Effectiv?
The Huron News -Room
1.60 a Year -81.26 in Advance.
WEDNESDAY, DE. EMBER 5th, 1894,
Clinton Mechanics' Institute.
A SHORT CH AFTER ON BOOKS AND
AUTHORS IN TIiIS SPLENDID
LIBRARY .
Among the navels recently purchas-
ed by the Mechanics' Institute is a set
of the Columbian Historical Novels by
John R. Musick. The title of the
volumes are "Columbia," Estero!), St.
Augustine, Pochahontas, The Pilgrims,
A Century too Soon, The Witch
of Salem, Braddock, Independence,
Sustained Honor, Humbled Pride and
Union. The series gives a complete
history of America, (United States
principally) from the time of Columbus
down to the present day, in the form
of twelve complete stories.
"Imagination enters into the narra-
tive, and reports conversations at
courts, at convents, and on shipboard,
but it plays no pranks with biography
and history, and it takes no liberties
with accepted facts. It makes on the
mind no erroneous or extravagant im-
pressions. Whatever characters or
scenes are the creation of the author,
they in no wise discredit the genuineness
of historical annals which are present-
ed with conscientious fidelity."—Hone
Journal, N. Y.
A Pound of Cure, by'W. H. Bishop,
is a striking novel of life at Monte
Carlo. It embodies a curious picture
of the growth of the gambling spirit
upon a young married man, whose•
only fault is his weakness in the pres-
ence of alluring pleasure. In addition
to the very remarkable plot, the book
is noteworthy for the delicate and
picturesque descriptions of the scenery
around Monte Carlo. Mr. Bishop's
easy and very accurate English lish style
adds to the effectiveness of the book as
a work of art.
Marsena, and other stories of the
Wartime, by Harold Frederic, author
of "The Cooperhead," "In the Valley,"
"The Lawton Girl," etc., has also been
put on the shelves recently.
Mr. Frederic's new volutne of short
stories comes as a worthy companion
to its predecessors in the ,buff -colored
company whose members have been so
well received.
. In the opening sentences of "Mar -
sena" we are told that "although
•Marsena Pulford went to the Presby-
terian Church with entire regularity;
was never seen in public save in a
long-tailed black coat, and in the
winter wore gloves instead of mittens,
the local conscience had always, I
think, s indry reservations about the
moral character of his past." How
Marsena fared in love and war, not-
withstanding this reputation, Mr.
Frederic tells in his own brilliant
manner.
Three other stories make up the
volume : "The War Widow," "The
Eve of the Fourth," and "My Aunt
Susan." In these, as in "Marlena,"
the author's special gifts as a literary
colorist are very evident, arid his
portrayal of scenes and incidents
during the days of the civil war are
vivid and distinctive. It can be fairly
said of Mr. Frederic that he has created
a literature of New York State.
Robert Grant's two popular hooks.
Since the days when Ik Marvel first
delighted the public with his ever
popular "Reveries" and "Dream Life,"
few books have appealed so success-
fully to the heart of the people or won
such a wide and immediate recognition
as Mr. Robert Grant's •two charming
books, Reflections of a Married Man,
and its sequel, Opinions of a Philoso-
pher. They are perhaps best des
cribed by the Boston Transcript
which says, "There are pass-
ages half serious, half playful, so
full of a quiet knowledge of life that
one gasps a bit at the man's grasp of
the modern spirit; and there are
charming bits filled with a tender senti-
ment that stirs one to the sweet and
sober side of the world." The volumes
are hound in attractive, uniform style,
the second of the two being illustrated
by.C. S. Reinhart.
As an emergency medicine, Ayer's
Cherry Pectoral takes the lead of all
other remedies. For the relief and
cure of croup, whooping -cough, sore
throat, and the dangerous pulmonary
troubles to which the young are so
liable, it is invaluable, being prompt to
act, sure to cure.
SQUASH PIE.—To one quart of stew.
ed and sifted squash add one pint of
milk, three eggs; one cup sugar; one
teaspoonful,.salt; spice to taste.
Catarrh—Use Nasal Balm . Quick,
ppositivd;,pure, Soothing, cleansing,
healitlg,; t"
WAS walking along
Regent street in
10 the autumn of '92,
..-e„ with an eye indif-
t5': fereut to the charm
of thatay precinct,
when suddenly in
spite of my preoccupation I noticed, in
a brilliant shop window. a sign bearing
this announcement, "Latest Novelty—
Silver Sirens.';
It was in direct consequence of the
delusive glamor of a Silver Siren that
my spirits were, at present, so depres-
sed that my luck seemed to mea traitor
and my whole destiny thwarted. Hence,
as I read this sign I paused. Being an
engineer by profession, 1 had gone to
Nevada some months previously, to su •
porintcnd a pumping process in some sil-
ver mines, and whik there my interest
in the science of hydraulics had been
superseded, owing to the babblings of
those sirens of the West who whispered
their alluring delirium into my ear. At
their behest I laid aside my professional
work and launched into the vortex of
speculation, with disastrous results to
myself', my family ted my friends. The
briefest mention of the fluctuating hope
and annihilating despair of that under-
taking mutt suffice, My telegrams to
my "governor" were daily paradoxes,
the buoyant optimism of one day
defying the predestined pessimism of
the next,
disgusted, heavily in debt,
my father seriously handicapped by
mortgages and forced sales on his pro-
perty, 1 had come home to England to
see what could be done, and it was on
the morning of my first meeting with
my' creditors in the city; as I was return-
ing from my club, that I noticed the
sign of "silver sirens" in the shop win-
dows. I glanced with grin curiosity
upon that confused mass of burning
gems and burnished gold in the jewel-
er's window, and, as I did so a shopman
advanced to the light of the door attend-
ing a young girl. Ile held in his hand
a silver whistle which I soon found was
the very object of my interest. I over-
heard the man say, with subservient
blandness :
"These are whistles, my lady, made
on the principle of our fog -horn sirens
or semaphores. They are the latest
novelty and are much used by the
yachting clubs this season at Cowes."
He placed the thing to his lips and
breathed upon it. Although the act
was quite gently done, a low, crooning
noise, which rose and fell with a plain-
tive gradation filled the air with such a
penetrative quality that several people
on the sidewalk paused and glanced
into the shop. I determined under one
of those sudden impulses which seem,
sometimes, to make of us irresponsible
factors in our own destinies, to buy the
bauble, and a few minutes later it was
dangling from my watch chain. In a
short time, however, under the pressure
of grave cares, I had forgotten all
about it.
I soon began to seek some means of
modifying the distressing condition to
which my absence of caution and re-
liance on chance had brought me.
Fortunately for me a company in Lon-
don whose confidence in my capacity as
an engineer had not been shaken by
my lack of judgment in the West en-
gaged me to conduct a large engineer-
ing scheme in some salt mines in Russia
in which much capital had been in-
vested.
I need not say I was glad of the
chance this offered me. I was glad also
to getaway from London, where I found
a subtle condemnation of my acts in
even the glances of my friends, I was
very sore and sensitive, and when a man
who had always been one of my favorite
friends and relatives called out to me
from the pier at Calais, in one of those
attempts at pleasantry which so often
contain a sting : "I say ! Francis, don't
go and buy a salt mine in Russia!" I
felt that the time had come for me to
cancel such speeches by some new line
of action.
I was confident about my mission.
Several engineers had failed, it is true,
but the many fail, the one succeeds.
These mines could not be worked owing
to the percolation of water into their.
To check this flow of water and redirect
its channels was my task.
I hurried across the continent and
had made good time. Haste was iin-
perative for winter was closing upon
the heels of autumn and the deep snows
would delay my progress. All went
well with ine as I crossed those lonely
versts, over which there seems ever to
dwell a brooding melancholy. My
kibitka or hooded sledge was very com-
fortable. It was drawn by sturdy Finn
poneis, which were exchanged at the
different stations along the route.
When about two days from the end of
my journey my yamschik, of driver,
fell seriously ill. When these strong
and intrepid sons of toil yield to the in-
fluence of disease the onslaught is
usually sudden and violent, like a wind
which fells, with crashing fury, the oak
which has long swayed to the storm's
rough lashing. I wrapped the poor fel-
low in my rugs and placed him in the
easiest part of the kibitka. As the lights
of Woloki twinkled in the distance,
while I guided the Finn ponies as
dextrously as I could over the roads, I
knew from Varika's terrible delirium
and fever that the poor' ,yamschik was
making his last life struggle.
My Russian vocabulary was put to
the test, as I pulled the ponies up at the
door of the station house. 1 managed,
ho*ever, to explain to the host that the
sick man was the yamschik and that I
was the passenger. As the stableboys
held the lights high, to enable thorn to
draw poor Varika from the sledge, I
saw that all was nearly over.
"0' hi !" moaned the host,as he show-
ed me into the contracted and smoky
sitting room, "0' hi, the little father's
prayers are more necessary now for
Varika than are the doctor's drugs. The
poor lad is called to drive the white horse
into the presence of St. Peter to -night
and give him his reckoning." To my
great annoyance, I found that I could
not procure another ,yamschik at that
station to drive me on that night. I made
bold promises of a vedro of vodalz, if
one could be found, but no one seemed
willing to take Varika's place. The
mystery of death had for the moment
checked the interests of life in those
superstitious hearts.
While I was employing useless argu-
ments with a knot of men in the room,
there was a noise of horses' feet and the
shrill cries within announced the arriv-
al of a sleigh. A fat Russian maid was
in the act of placing a steaming same-
var before mo when, with much stamp-
ing of feet outside, the door of the
room opened and n man of vert' noble
hearing'carne ill. It saluted me with
dignity and then withdrew, imrnedi-
ately returning with a young girt upon
his arta. Her face seemed to make, a
sudden summer spring into the wintry
plaeti.
My eenerienee had evidently been
told them. for, as the girl glanced at
rne, I heard her say ; "The poor yam-
schik 1 Dear father, how awful Is suck•
den death 1"
With a little hesitation the man ad
vanced to ale and said in good English :
"I beg pardon. Can this be, by chance,
Mr. Francis Adants, the engineer of the
salt mines in . Then promptly
followed a pleasant solution of my pro.
blem. Count Bariatlnski, the owner of
these salt mines, was himself on the
way thither, hoping to reach the place
by the time ot my arrival, and this
crossing of our paths had hastened our
meeting.
The count, of course, introduced me
to his daughter, the Countess Stephanie,
explaining that she had long wished for
an experience of crossing Russia in a
sleigh, and added that, as the cold had
Increased very much, he feared he had
lent a too fond ear to her entreaties, in
consenting to bring her. An hour later
found me very much at my ease in the
luxurious sleigh of the Count Bariatin-
ski, the young Countess Stephanie's
face glowing with loveliness just op-
posite me.
As • 1 • watched her,—watched that
startled look, with which the unknown
mysteries of a winter night on the plains
of Russia spoke to her, 1 tried to analyze
the quality of her beauty. The word
"elusive" constantly came to me, as ex-
pressive of the character of her charm.
Beauty seemed to animate the face from
the depths of her blue -grey eyes, and
then when I had fixed the horse of her
attraction there, some witching move-
ment of the mouth—a smile which
chased from their hiding in the soft
contour of her cheeks and lips a rippling
gambol of dimples, would change Illy
mind, and then 1 would give to the
mouth the definite note of beauty which
struck the first harmony of the whole.
Thus I watched her, while the old
count twaddlod on about mints and
urines, and the liveried yamschik and
footmen of ' his excellency pierced the
night, every now and then, with their
strident Russian cries of endearment to
the fleet horses that carried us swiftly
over the snow. Presently the old count
began to nod, but the young countess
kept an alert eye upon the passing in-
terests of the night.
The road grew more irregular now,
and was broken up in great ukhabs or
deep furrows, causing us to sway, ever
now and then, like a sloop at sea. It'
was during these tortuous movements
that 1 began to watch for the radiating
smile of the Countess Stephanie, while
the count, rudely jostled from his doz-
ing dreams, would scold his yarnschik
in a vollese of expressive Russian. When
this attack. became violent, the Countess
Stephanie would slip her hand from her
sable muff, and caress her father's arm,
till the vituperative auger of the count
would cease, or merge into some quali-
fying correction. It was sweet to see
the silent influence of the girl, and one
felt that she took the part of tlutt poor
servant, whose cringing- phrases showed
how cruel his training had been, enabl-
ing him to accept with patience rep: i -
mends which he did not deserve
The snow had ceased. It had only
lasted long enough to veil the trees and
decorate with a soft, cloud -like delicacy,
the panorama of the night. The in-
tense stillness recalled to one dre tris of
a primeval ago. The very heart beats
of Pan seemed suspended. The sounds
which we associate with man's inherit-
ance of the earth seemed a strange,
suggestion in that hour. So far have
we become removed from the actual re-
serve of nature that the natural seemed
supernatural, and the hush which per-
vaded all was like a palpable incanta-
tion breathed upon the earth by some
mighty spirit of the air, which held the
night subservient to her will.
We had entered a thick pine torest.
The trees, those voiceful children of the
woods, were held in an icy calm. If
architecture be indeed frozen music,
the brush seemed put in abstract form
before us. The branches and vertical
lines made cathedral and vista aisles
under their moulding of ice and snow.
Sometimes whole processions of cowled
monks seemed to be lining our route, or
spectral arras, stretched outward from
the gloom, beckoned us to the murky
mystery of the dark forest. Those soft
thuds of snow which fell when the top
of our kibitka touched the'edge of some
protruding pine branch, fell behind us
like ghostly steps trying to escape their
thraldom to the midnight by following
our lead to lite and light,
But no wierd influences of the night
seemed to approach the consciousness of
the young countess. As I looked at her
that song of Heine's seethed written for
her,"Thou art like a lovely floweret !"
All hut peace and purity seemed separ-
ated from her.
The count moved uneasily in his seat.
The sledge made a sudden lunge, as it
heaved through one of the transverse
ruts, and our near horse (we were driv•
-
ing three abreast) gave an ugly tug at
the traces, as he swayed outward from
his place. The count, now fully awake,
cried out : "Ivan Ivanovitch, are you
forgetting,whom you are driving!"
"'No, gracious excellency," the man
replied, 'but his iordship's horse, Petro-
vitch is restive."
Almost at the instant, the horse gave
a second pull, which was so violent that
the whole kibitka was jerked aslant.
"Something is out of gear with the
harness 1" called the count„'lot one ot
the grooms see to it.”
The two footmen were half asleep,
and I could hear Ivan muttering to
them, while he was bringing the sledge
to less rapid motion.
Suddenly there was a cry, piercing
and petulant, like a peevish child's—a
cry which made my blood curdle in my
viense 1 glanced at the Countess Ste-
phanie and saw her face blanch, as she
shrank into the corner of tho sledge.
The count sprang to his feet and the
awful word was spoken ;
"Wolves!"
In an instant the horses, having heard
that cry, felt some subtle sense of fright
which hastened their speed. The count
unlocked his pistol case• I noticed that
he was calm, and that he fitted the key
into the lock with accuracy.
"Are you armed ?" ho asked me. I
drew my pistol from my pocket, as he
spoke.
I have never heard of the brutes
conking so far south at this season," ire
said, grhen he turned to the countess.
"Be very calm, my daughter," he said,
"your father will defend'you."
"I,m not afraid," was the proud reply,
though her voice was thick and her
lips trembled. The count turned quickly
and cut the straps which held the closed
Opening at the back of the sleigh.
"Cr ucli downs My child," he Said to
the Oeuntess Stephanie ; "crouch clown
in the bottom of the sledge and cover
your head with this rug. May heaven
shield thee 1"
All the eoucentrated love of paternity
was in his voice.
"Itsik, you—aro your pistols ready?"
die said next.
"Ready, excellency," was the reply.
Tho count and I peered into the dark-
ness through the opening of the sleigh.
Behind us there appeared a movement
like a rolling cloud, resembling dust
seen at night.
"They are upon us!" the count ex-
elainied and flred. As I imitated him I
heard the countess give a little staled
scream. On came the moving column,
and the cries of angry, ravening mouths
filled the air with a deep and ominous
rumble.
How they were gaining on us! Ivan
Ivanovitch was yelling to his horses,
and they, brave creatures, strained
every nerve and muscle to obey his
commands. A sudden awful thought
passed through me. What it' there
were something really wrong with the
harness! How long could any mal -ad-
justment stand this strain?
Somewhere from the recesses of
memory came the recollection of a starry
I had once read, of hunting wolves in a
battue in Russia, and that it was stated
there that unaccustomed and peculiar
sounds had a terrifying effect upon
these beasts—even that a clatter of
pans could accomplish what pistols fail-
ed to do. Again I fired into that ap-
proaching mass of yelping horror. As
my hand resumed its position after do-
ing so, it touched the cold surflice of the
little silver siren which hung upon my
watch chain.
Instantly it flashed upon me to try its
effect upon this pack ot hungry wolves.
I put it to my lips, and with all the
strength of my lungs forced that weird
crescendo note into the icy night. A
writhing serpent of the air was that
python of sound, which struck its pierc-
ing sting into the frightened hearts of
those wild beasts.
The younger countess filleted dead
away. The horses gained electric fear
from what they thought was some new
terror in pursuit, but best of all —
miracle as it has ever seemed—that
pack of angry wolves, with a bellowing
howl of fear, tumbled pell-mell into the
black depths of the forest and disap-
peared like a column of smoke whose
force is spent !
As they did so, Ivan Ivanovitch cried
out that the lights of Riga were in
sight, and we wore saved !
A year later 1 was again in Regent
street, but not alone nor defeated nor
depressed, for Stephanie was there !
I was showing her the shop where I
had bought the silver siren.
"Now take ale, dearest, to the place
where you bought ashy wedding ring,"
she said, "Did you not say that that
was near Bond street?'
"Yes, near Bond, Stephanie," I be
gas, but this has nothing to do with the
story ot the silver siren, which has now
been told.
THE QUEEN OF COREA.
Site Weare Itut hew Manmade and
Smokes American Cigarettes.
The Queen of Corea is now 41 years
of ae, being just one year older tttt
er
her husband. She is of medium height
and her form is slender and straight.
Her manner is pleasing and she is
always described as every inch a queen,
She is by no means bad -looking.
Her face is long and every line of
her features beams with intelligence!
and vivacity. She has a high forehead,
a long, slender, aristocratic nose, and
her mouth and chin indicate determina-
tion and character. Her cheok•bones
are high, her ears are small and her
complexion is the color of rich Jersey
cream. Her eyebrows are after the
approved style of Corean beauty, the
hairs having been pulled out so
that they form an arched threa,'d.of
black over her eyes. These aro almond
in shape and they fairly snap with life.
They are keen -business -like eyes, and
they see everything, being Intellectual
rather than soulrel. The queen's hair
is jet black. 1t fer parted in the middle,
is combed perfectly smooth away from
the forehead and brought down over the
ears and rolled in a low coil that rests on
the nape of her neck. Here it is fasten-
ed with hairpins of gold or silver, each
a foot long and as big around as your
linger. The queen has a good mouth,
full ' of well -formed, large teeth : and
when she laughs, which is quite often,
shows the upper ones.
The queen has a large wardrobe, the
dresses of which sire changes frequent-
ly. During her mourning for the queen -
dowager she 'was dressed for weeks in a
white silk gauze, which is the color of
mourning in Corea. She is not fond of
jewelry.
,•. Her hand, which are long, thin and
shapely, .never sparkle wih diamonds ;
her only rings are heavy gold beads,
and she always wears these in pairs,
two rings on ono finger. She wears
neither bracelets nor necklaces, and her
clothing is more like. that of a retiring
woman of the west than of the queen of
the most gorgeous oriental court of the
world. Her feet are clad in Corium
shoes of the softest of skins, finely em-
broidered, and more like apple; than
shoes. She wears a diamond -studded
American watch; and, as is the custom
among Corean women, she is by no
means averse to a smoke. She does not
however, affect its long-stemmed Cor -
eau pipe with its bowl of silver or brass,
but prefers a cigarette and 1 was told
at Seoul that she 'orders her cigar-
ettes from the United States and
smokes them quite freely.—Demorest's
Magazine.
Waterproof Velvet.
One of the cleverest and most useful
inventions of the age is the "Millerain"
process, by which materials of all kinds
are rendered rain and damp-proof. Now
that velvets and velveteens are increas•
ingly fashionable, it is delightful to
know that we can buy them so success-
fully treated by this process that they
aro as absolutely impervious to wet as
the most reliable mackintosh. The uses
to which such ideal materials can be put
are endless ; but for children's hats,
coats, suits and fronits, as well as for
grown persons' wear, velveteen that
will not spot, and possesses the quality
of resisting damp without any of the
unpleasantly unhealthy attributes so
often attached Ito waterproofed goods,
is a gift for which it is impossible to bo
too grateful --Philadelphia Record.
One Thins, He Had Not.
There is at least one humeri ailment bride He had a dim knowledge of the
that a tramp is exempt from ch. splitting fight he was making, a dim premonition
headache.—Iticlunonci Dispatothat the dead man was more than his
Mike Sheehan tossed, awake in the
moonlight, The gulls were quiet, and
there was no noise in the night save that
sound that had rocked his cradle—the
Atlantic foaming up the narrow ravine
before his door and withdrawing itself
with a loud sucking noise. The cabin
was perched on a bleached hillside. A
stony, narrow path went by the door
climbed the ravine to the world; a bed
of slaty rock slanted sheer below it to
the white tossing water.
Mike, with his six feet of manhood,
was well in request at the country
gatherings. But of late, said the folk,
the man had turned queer; in that mel-
ancholy, stately county by the sea,mad-
ness—eppecially of' the melancholic kind
—is a thing very common. A sear ago
a wrestling match between him and
Jack Tierney had gathered two coun-
ties to see it. No man could say which
was the champion. Now one was the
victor, again the other. They kept
steady pace in their victories, Jack,
too, was captain of the Kislallagh
team of hurlers, Mike of the Clonegal-
la. That would be a great day for
the men and women of his following,
wheh either champion should decisively
lead.
The country people scarcely guessed
at the time their two champions became
enemies. Indeed, it was a secret lock-
ed in their own breasts, scarcely ac-
knowledged even when in his most hid-
den moments each man looked at the
desires of his heart. It only showed
THE DEAD MAN WOUND ABOUT TIIE LIVING
WITH HIS COLD LIMBS.
itself in a- new fierceness and determina-
tion in their encounters. Each had
sworn to himself to conquer the other.
The soreness between thein came about
when by some sad mischance they fell
in love with the same girl. Worse luck,
she wanted neither of them, for she was
vowed to the convent. In the long run
one or the other might have tempted her
to an earthly bridal, but she made no
choice between them, and each man's
chance seemed about equal when'she
slipped from them both into Kilbride
churchyard. When she lay there
neither men could say she had dis-
tinguished him by special kindness
from the other. And their rivalry wax-
ed more furious with the woman in her
grave.
But six months later, and their battles
still undecided, Jack Tierney fell sick
and followed Ellen to Kilbride. Then
Mike Sheehan was without an equal for
malty miles. But little comfort it was
to him,'with the girl of his heart dead,
and the one man he had desired to over-
throw dead and unconquered. He
secluded himself from the sports and
pastimes, and lived lonely in his cabin
among the gulls, eating out his unsatis-
fied heart. None other would satisfy
him to wrestle with but his dead rival,
and indeed he, in common with the
country people, thought that no other
might be found fit for him to meet.
Kilbride Churchyard is high on the
mainland and lies dark within its four
stelle walls. The road to it is by a
tunnel of trees that slake a shade
velvety black even when the moon is
turning all the sea silver. The church-
yard is very old and has no monuments
of importance, only green headstones
bent sideways and sank to their neck
and shoulders in the earth. A postern
gate, with a flight of' stone steps, opens
from Kilbride lane. Here every night
you may see the ghost of Whin, the
murderer climbing those steps with a
rigid burden hanging from his shoulder.
But as Mike Sheehan ascended the
steps out of the midnight darkness ho
felt no fear. He clanged the gate of
the sacred, quiet place in a way that set
the silence echoing. Some mad passion
was on Mike Sheehan surely, or he
would not have so desecrated the quiet
resting place of the dead. There. by
the ruined gable of the old abbey, was
a fresh mound unusually large in size.
Mike Sheehan paused by it. "Jack !"
he cried in a thunderous voice, hoarse
with its passion. "Come ! let us once
for all see which is the better man.
Come and fight me, Jack, and if you
throw me let Ellen be yours now and for-
ever."
The blood was in his eyes and the sea
mist curling in from sea, His chal-
lenge spoken, he swayed dizzily for a
moment. Then his eyes saw. The place
seemed full of the sea mist, silver ed
through with the moon. As he looked to
right and left substantial things had
vanished, but he saw on either hand
long rows of shadowy faces watching
him Many of them he knew. They were
the boys and girls, the men and women,
of his own village who had died in many
years. Others were strange, but
he guessed them ghosts from Kilsallagh,
beyond I5,oscarbery, the village whore
Jack used to live. HIe looked eagerly
among' the folk he remembered for
Ellen'S face. There was one who might
be she, the ghost of a woman veiled in
her shadowy hair, whose eves he,, could
not see. And then Jack was upon him.
That was a great wrestling in lCill-
bride churchyard. The dead man wound
about the livingwith his clay cold
limbs, caught him in'icy grips that froze
the terrified blood from his heart, and
breathed upon him soundlessly a chill
breath of the grave that seemed to
wither him. Yet Mike fought furiously,
as one who fights not only to satisfy a
hate, but as one who fights to win a
aueaw
seetJ;,inad,
$1 R!! •Boole `
One mate, def
]3is Gs9AT 0o1orx 'Mgt Wrap y cwre..
N• ere all others failLccreshi, Croup -iota
Throat, Iloarscucso, whooping gouge and
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has cured tl}ouai nits, and villi ..4 zoo
takenin time, o!1 by Dructist8 ., a guar;
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a6I1.Owo aro., ADONNA P,L A - W 1.;
1'1i 1L W/CATARRH
eye youCuuurn! This remedy IsRtretrau.
teed to euro you. kris^, O e.w. Injecboi`mirep.
Sold by J. II. OOMBE.
match. The ghostly spectators pressed
forward more eagerly, their shadowy
faces peered, their shadowy forms sway-
ed in the mist. The ghost had Mike
Sheehan in a death grip. His arms
were imprisoned, his breath failed, his
flesh crept and his hair stood up. He
felt himself dying of the horror of this
unnatural combat, then there was a
whisper at his ear.
Dimly he seemed to hear Ellens'
voice; dimly turning his failing eyes, he
seemed to recognise her eyes under the
veil bf ashen fair hair. "Draw him to
the left on the grass," said the voice,
"and trip him." His old love and his
old jealously seemed to serge up in Mike
Sheehan. With a tremendous effbrt he
threw off those paralyzing arms. For-
getting his horror he furiously embrac-
ed the dead, drew him to the left on
the grass, slippery as glass after the
summer heats, for a second or two
swayed with him two and tro; then the
two went down together with great vio-
lence, but Mike Sheehan was uppermost,
his knee on the dead man's breast.
When he came to himself in the moon-
light all was calm and peaceful. It was
close upon dawn, and the moon was
very low. He looked about him at the
quietness. Another man might have
thought he had but dreamed it; not so
Mike Sheehan. He remembered with a
fierce joy how ho had flung the ghost
and how Ellen had been on his side,
"You're mine, now, Asthoreen," he
said, in a passionate apostrophe 'to her,
"and 'ti ' could find it in my heart to
pity him ,, •it's lying there and has lost
you. He eras the fair fighter ever and
always, and now he'll acknowledge me
for the better man." And then ho add-
ed, as if to himself, "Poor Jack ! I wish
1'd flung him on the broken ground, and
not on the slippery grass. 'Tis then I'd
feel myself that I was the better man."
—Pall Mall Budget.
A NARROW ESCAPE.
People who are exposed to the sudden
changes of our northern climate have
little chance of escaping colds. coughs,
sore throat and lung trouts. The
hest safeguard is to keep I% yard's
Pectoral Balsam t hand. It is a quick
relief and reliable cure for such
complaints.
MINCE MEAT.—Two pounds fresh
lean beef, boiled, and when cold chop-
ped fine ; one pound beef suet, cleared
of strings and minced to powder ; five
pounds apples, pared and choppped;
three pounds raisins, seeded and chop.
pea ; two pouncis currants, well,'washed
and picked ; three fourths pound citron •
cut u;, fine; two tablespoonfuls cinna-
mon ; one nutineg, grated; two table-
spoonfuls mace ; one tablespoonful
coves; one tablespoonful allspice; one
tablespoonful fine salt; two and half
pounds brown sugar ; one quart boiled
cider. Let it stand twenty-four hours
before using. Keep in stone jars, tied
over with double covers.
MINCE PIE.—Take a piece of puff
paste, roll to the thickness of a penny
piece ; butter the pans lightly ; line the
pans with puff paste, place in the mince
meat made as desired; trim and wet
the edges of the baste with milk, cover
with the paste, trim, press the. edges
closely and crimp, prick a hole in the
centre of the top, brush lightly with
egg, and dust some fine white sugar
over. Bake for twenty minutes in a
moderate oven.
Tf you are anxious to find the most
reliable blood -purifier, read in Ayer's
Almanac the testimonials of those who
have been cured of such terrible
diseases as cataltr•h, rheumatism, and
scrofula, by the use of Ayee's Sarsa-
parilla. Then govern yourself accord -
AVOID TROUDIE AT RODE.
Use Only the Reliable Dia-
mond Dyes.
1t is well known that the ladies of
Canada often experience trials and
tribulations in the household manage-
ment. These small but irritating
troubles can be avoided if a little care
and common sense is exercised.
Women who go on suffering these
little miseries have themselves to blame
as they suffer through their own care-
lessness and inexperience. To -day one
great source of annoyance in the
household is the use of poor imitation
dyes for domestic dyeing. In some
sections of our land, the ladies have
lifted up their voice against them ins.
way which cannot be misunderstood.
These irritation dyes have caused not
only great loss of material and money
hut anger and headache as well. All
these domestic trials and tribula
tions are avoided when Diamond
Dyes are used. By their se work
is well and quickly don ,-results
are always grand, and the a lois are
brilliant and lasting. Ladies who have
used Diamond Dyes for the last ten
years know thei great worth and pos-
sibilities. Avoid all imitation dyes,
and always insist upon getting Dia-
mond Dyes from your druggist or deal-
er.
A BOON TO MA,NKIND.
Neuralgia, Swelled Neck, Enlitrg ed
Glands, Lame Back and all Muscular
Pain, Lameness and Soreness are
speedily and effectually cured by
Hagyard's Yellow Oil. It removes all
pain in a few applications.