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The Huron Signal, 1881-05-20, Page 22 THE HURON SIGNAL, FRIDAY, MAY 20, 1881. A LIFE F011 A LIFE. BY NUS Imam CHAPTER XIIi ins new. My dpi --my bast el every earthly thing has to be ponied from tempor- en#, semiser, ellen ashes me feel se if ata myself were venting —whom $o lose out of this weeld would be • loss irre- medisbb, and to leave behind in It would be the sharpest sting ed death --- better, I have sometimes thought, of late better be you and 1 than Treherne and Limbed. In all these letters I have scarcely mentioned Penelope—you see I am learning to name your sister aa if mine. She, however, has treated me almost like a stranger in the few times we hap- pened to meet—until last Monday. I had left the happy group in the li- brary—Treherne, tearing himself from his wife's sofa—honest fellow ! to follow me to thl door—where he wrung my hand, and said, with a sob like a school- boy, that he had never been so happy in his life before, and he hoped he was thankful for it. Your eldest sister, who sat in the window sewing—her figure put me somewhat in mind of you, little lady—bade me good-by—she was going tack to Rockmount in a few days. I quitted them, and walked alone across the park, where the chestnut- trees—you remember them—are begin- ning not only to change, but to fall; thinking how fast the years go, and how little there is in them of positive joy. Wrong this ! and I know it; but, my lova I sin sorely at times. I nearly forgot a small patient I have at the lodge gates, who is slipping so gradually, but surely, poor wee man ! into the world where he will be • child forever. After sitting with him half an hour, I came „ut better. A lady was waiting outside the lodge gates. When I saw who it was, I meant to bow and pass on, but Miss Johnston called me. From her face, I dreaded it was some ill news about you. Your sister is a good woman and a kind. She said to me, when her explanations had set my mind at ease : "Dr. Urquhart, 1 believe you are a man to be trusted. Dora ;rusts you. Dora once said you would be just, even to your enemies" I answered, I hoped it was something more than justice that we owed, even to our enemies. "That is not the question," she said, sharply; "I spoke only of justice. I would not do an injustice to the meanest thing—the vilest wretch that crawls" s bright-eyed squirrel came and peeped at us., stole • nut a few yards at, nati wattled away wink it to Mn fligallird. and the little ones up in • tall 1.011.1.1e hard by. I beeped idle addrelk **it. f ri taip*t allw wq, koeli. "Threat yrs, 1 than ream eyed short. "any; ase word if you please. In that visit yon will, of course, say, if re- quired, that you learned the address from Trcherne Court. You will name no other names 1" " •Certainly not." But afterward you will write to me r "1 will." We shook hands, and 1 left her sitting there on the dead tree. I went on, wondering if anything would result from this curious combination of accidents; also, whether a woman's love, if cut off at the root, even like this tree, could be actually killed, so that nothing could re- vive it again. What think you, Theo- dora 1 But this trick id moralizing caught from you shall not be indulged. There is only time for the relation of bare facts. The train brought me to the opposite shore of our river, not half a mile's walk from Mr. Charteris's lodgings They seemed "handsome lodgings," as he said; a tall, new house, one of many which, only half built, or half inhabited, make this Birkenhead such a dreary place. But it is improving year by year. I sometimes think it may be quite a busy and cheerful spot by the time I take • house here, as I intend. You will like a hill -top and a view of the lea. I asked for Mr. Charteris, and stum- bled up the half lighted stairs into the wholly dark drawing -room. "Who the devil's there?" He was in hiding, you must remem- ber, as, indeed, I ought to , have gone, end so taken the precaution first to send up my name, but I was afraid of non - admittance. When the gas was lit, his state of apparent illness and weakness, made me cease to regret having gained entrance under ashy circumstances Re- cognizing me, he muttered some apo- logy. lag am ass I walk peee as 7iestes my teen, Mae being leaped on the boat just M we wars aftniti off, and uuw stood still as • carv- ed fligge, staring down into the foamy Leask of the paddle -wheels. He was so absorbed that he did not notice am, but I rletosiarit hint et one; sad an ugly sespioien metered my wind.. lief trues I d Yel, sine now, I cannot a000unt for the influence 1 so aeon gained, sad kept; asospt that any person in his seven sen- se& always has power over another y out of theta, and to a sick man • no autocrat like the doctor. Now ter his pet oouditiva. dlepr fupnwiug, I r saved him to a coca• hey lodging. where an old woman I tats,' Alit look. sties kiea. The pow is hta�bie t t bat flew ars rescue, :lea sofa than did orpertint i .sidism ii his rent, eta —my pro - little lady will Moan to be asking after my '-cirosniMaaees"—well, love, his rent for the nett month, at least, I can easily afford to pay. The present is provided for --as to his future, heaven only knows I wrote, a000rding to premien, to your sinew Penelope, explaining where Mr. Charteris was, his state of health, and the position of his &lairs; also, my ad- vice, which he neither assents to nor de- clines, that, as soon as his health will permit, he should surrender himself in London, go through the Insolvent Court and start anew in life. A hard life, at beet, since, whatever situation he may obtain, it will take years to free him or W UNIX - there *et tai ming164il4body seam She went on : "I have not liked you, Dr. Urquhart; nor do I know that my feelings are alter- ed now—but I respect you. Therefore, you are the only person of whom I an ask a favor. It is a secret. Will you keep it so ?" "Except from Theodora." "You are right. Have no secrets from Theodora. Fur her sake and your own—for your whole life's peace—never, even in the slightest thing, deceive that poor child !" Her voice aharpened,'her black eyes glittered a moment, and then she shrank back into her usual self. I see exactly the sort of woman, which, as you say, she will grow into—sister Penelope— aunt Penelope. Every one belonging to her must try, henceforth, to spare her every possible pang. After a fhw moments, I begged her to say what I could do for her. "Read this letter, and tell me if you think it is true." It was addressed to Sir William Tre- herne; the last humble appeal sof a broken-down man; the signature, "Fran- cis Charteris' I tried my bed to disguise the emotion which Mies Johnston herself did not show, and returned the letter, merely inquiring if Bir William had answered it. "No; he will not. He disbelieves the facts.'' "Do you also ? "I cannot say =the writer was not always accurate in his statements." Women are in scene things, stronger and harder than men. I doubt if any man could have spoken as steadily as your sister did at this minute. While I explained to her, es 1 thought it right to do, though with the manner of one talk- ing of a stranger to a stranger, the pres- ent position of Mr. Charteris, she re- plied not a sylable. Only pawing a felled tree she suddenly sank down tlpon it. and at motionless. ' Wbst is he to do 7" else said at last. i replied that the lneolvent Court eoeld free him from his delta and grant bin protection from farther imprisnn- meat; that thesgh, thus sulk in circum - tirade. a government situation was hardly to he hoped for, still then were in Liverpool clerkship and mercantile opportunities. in which any person en well educated as he might begin the world again, health permitting. His health was never gond—hu it felled him r "1 fear so. Your sister turned away Rbe sat— ire both sat for some time so rein that perpetual warfare ase with the other. This state—some people put pieties' names upon it- but we doctors know that it is at least as much physical as mental, and that many a poor misan- thrope, who loathes himself and the world, is merely an unfortunate victim of stomach and nerves, whom rest, na- tural living, and an easy mind, would soon make a man again. But that does not remove the pitifulness and danger of the case. While the man is what he is, he is little better than a monoman- iac. If I had not seen him before, the ex- pression of his countenance, as he stood looking down into the river, would have been enough to convince me how neces- sary it was to keep a strict watch over Mr. Charteris. When the rush of passengers to the gangway made our side of the boat near- ly deserted, he sprang up to the steps of the paddle -vox, and there stood. I once saw a man commit suicide. It was one of ours, returning from the Crimea. He had been drinking hard, and was put tinder restraint, for fear of delirium tremens; but when he was thonght recovered, one day, at broad noon, in eight of all hands, he suddenly jumped overboad. I caught sight of his face as he did so—it was ezactly the ex- pression of Francis Charteris. Perhaps, in any caro, you had better never repeat the whole of this to your sister. Not till after a considerable struggle did I pull him down to the safe deck once more. There he stood breathless. "You were not surely going to drown yourself, Mr. Charteris 7" "I was And I will." "Try, and I shall call the police to prevent your making such an ass of yourself." It was no time to choose words, and in this sort of disease the beat preventive one an use, next to a firm imperative will, is ridicule. He answered nothing —but gazed at me in simple astonish- ment; while I took his arm and led him out of the boat acres the landing stage. "I beg your pardon for using such strong language, but a man must bean ass indeed who contemplates such a thing; here, too, of all places. To be fished up out of this dirty river, like s dead rat, for the entertainment of the crowd; to make a capital ane :at the magistrate's court tomorrow,and a first- rate paragraph in the Liverpool Mercury —`Attempted Suicide of a Gentleman.' Or, if you really succeeded, which I doubt, to be 'Found Drowned'—a mere body, drifted ashore with cocoa -nut husks and cabbages at Waterloo, or brought in as I once saw at these very stain, one of the many poor fools who do this here yearly. They had picked him up eight miles higher up the river, and so brought him down lashed behind a rowing boat, floating face upward--" "Ah'" 1 felt Charteris shudder. You will, too my love, so I will repeat no more of what I said to him. But these ghastly pictures were the strongest arguments available with such a man. What was the use of talking to him of God, and life, and im nortalityl He had told me'he believed in none of these things But he believed in dea4h— the Epicurean's view of it—"to lie in cold obstruction and to rot." I thought, and dill think, that it was best to use any lawful means to keep him from re- peating the attempt. Beet tosavetheman first, and preach to him afterward. He and 1 walked up and down the streets of Liverpool almost in silence, except, when he darted into the first chemist's shop he saw to procure opium. "Don't hinder me," he said, imploring- ly, "it is the only thing that keeps me alive." Then I walked him about ones more, till his pace flagged, his limbs tottered, he became thoroughly pews sad ex- hausted. 1 called a ar, and expressed my determination to see hist safe home. "Home 1 No, no, 1 must not go there." And the poor fellow summoned all his faculties, in order to speak ration- ally. '• You see, a gentleman in my sir- eumatanoss—in short, could you rewire mend any plan► --a quiet, out-of-the-way place, where—where I could hide 1" I had suspected things were thus And now, if I lost sight of him oven for twenty four hours, he might be lost per- manently. He was in that critical state when the next step, if it were net to a prison, might he into a lunatic asylum. it wee not ditficultto persuade hitaaat the hat puce whew merlitors wesld search for a debtor would he brittle* jail, nor tot erose i,im, halt dnpvdled w he was. tato roT own nxoma, and Iran him fart salwq ..n eo "I was asleep; I usually do sleep after dinner." Then recovering his confused faculties, he asked with some hauteur, "To what may I attribute the pleasure of seeing Dr. Urxuhart? Are you like myself, a mere bird of passage, or a re- sident in Liverpool?" "I am a surgeon of jail." "Indeed, I was rot aware. A good appointment I hope. And what jail did you say?" I mined it again and left the subject. If he chose to wrap himself in that thin cloak of deception, it was no business of mine to tear it off. Besides, oue pities a ruined man's most petty pride. But it was an awkward position. You know how haughty Mr. Charteris can be; you know also that unlucky peculiarity in me, call it Scotch shyness, cautious- ness, or what you please, my little Eng- lish girl must cure if she can. Whether or not it was my fault, I soon felt that this visit was turning out a complete failure. We conversed in the civilest manner, though somewhat disjoinedly, on politics, tie climate and trade of Liverpool, etc; but Mr. Charteris and his real condition I learned no more of than if I were meeting him at s London dinner -party, or a supper with poor Tom Turtou, who is dead, es you know. Mr. Charteris did not, it seems, and his startled exclamation at hearing the fact wu the only natural expression during my whole visit; which, alter a few father broad hints, I took the opportunity of a letter's being brought in to terminate. Not, however, with any intention on my side of ita being a final one. The figure pf this wretched -looking invalid, though he would not own to illness— men seldom will— lying in the solitary, fireless lodging -house parlor, where there was no indication of food, and a strong smell of opium, followed ins all the way to the jetty, suggesting plan after plan concerning him. You cannot think how pretty our dull river looks at night, with its two long lines of lighted shores, and other lights scattered in all directions, every vessel's rigging bearing one. And to -night, above all things, was a large, bright moon, sailrng up over innumerable white clouds, into the dear, dark zenith, ocn- verting the town of Liverpool into a fairy city, and the muddy Mersey into a pleasant river, ceased by a pathway of silver, such a. one always looks at with a kind of hope that it would lead to "come bright isle of red.." There wu • sung to that effect popular when Dallas and I were boys. As the boat moved of, 1 settled myself to enjoy the brief seven minutes of crossing—thinking, if 1 had but the lit• ole face looking upon the moonlight she is so fond of, the little hand to keep warm in mine ' And now, Theodore, I come to some thing which you must use your own judgment about telling your sister Pene- lope. Half way across I was attracted by the peculiar manner of • eseserissr. who had letter, though not, I trust, with the most importing fact therein. Though 1 re- opened my letter to inform you of it, lestyuumight learn it iu some other way, 1 cunalder It of very slight molaent, and only naw it bemuse those sort o1 small cup1aassateerses hares habit of growing asks seowballs every yard they rulL Our oheplaie has just shown me in this moenin` s paper a paragraph abort myself, not oolnplia.utary, and deetedhy illegetored. It he dly t ok rue by sur- prise; I have of late uoossiotlally caught stray comments, um very battering, <m atyeelf and my proceedings, but they troubled me little. 1 know that a man in my position with aims far beyond his present circumstances, with opinions to obstinate and manners toe blunt te get these aims carried out, as many do, by the aid of other and more influeutial people, such a nun must have enemies Be not afraid, love --mine are few; and be sure 1 hare given them no cause for animosity. True, I have contra- dicted wine, and not many men can stand contradiction—but 1 have wronged no man to my knowledge. My con- science is clear. So they may spread what absurd reports or innuendoes they will -1 shall live it all down. My spirit seems to have had s douche - bath this morning, oold but salutary. This tangible annoyance will brace me out of a little feeble -heartedness that has been growing over we of late; w be con- tent my Theodora. 1 send you the newspaper paragraph. Read it, and burn it. Is Penelope come home 1 1 need scarcely observe, that ouly herself and you are acquainted, or will be, with any of the circumstances I have related with respect to Mr. Charteris. from all his liabilities. Mims Johnston's answer I received this morning. It was merely an envelope containing a bank note of £20, Sir Will- iam's gift, possibly; I told her he had better be made aware of his nephew's abject stee- or do you suppose it is from herself ? I thought beyond your quarterly allowance, you had none of you much ready gooney 1 If there is anything I ought to know before apply- ing this sum to the use of Mr. Charteris, you will, of course, tell me. I have been to see him this afternoon. It is a poor room he hes in, but clean and quiet. He will not stir out of it ; it was with difficulty I persuaded him to have the window opened oro that we might enjoy the still autumn sunshine, the church bells, and the little robin's song. Turning back to the sickly drawn face, buried in the sofa -pillows, my heart smote me with a heavy doubt as to what was to be the end of Francis Char- teris. Yet I do not think he will die; but he will be months, yewf in recovering, even if he is ever his old self again—bodily, I mean; whether his inner self is under- going any change, I have small means o judging. The bed thing for him, both mentally and phyainlly, would be a fond good woman's constant are; but that he cannot have. I need scarcely say I have taken every precaution that he should never see nor hear anything of Lydia, nor abe of him. He has never named her, nor any one; pest and future seem alike swept out of his mind; he only lives in the miserable present, a helpless, hopeless, exacting invalid. Not on any account would I have Lydia Cartwright see him now. If I judge her countenance rightly, she is just the girl to do exactly what you women are so prone to—forgive every- thing, sacrifice, everything, and go back to the old love. Ah ! Theodora, what am I that I should dare to speak thus lightly of woman's lore, women's fo; giveness.. I am glad Mr. Johnston allows you oocesiurlally to nee Mrs. Cartwright and the child, and that the little fellow is so well cared for by his grandmother. if, with his father's face, he inherits his father's temperament, the nervously sensitive organization of a modern "gentleman," as opposed to the healthy animalism of a working man, life will be an uphill road to that poor boy. His mother's heart aches after him sorely at times, as 1 can plainlytoerceive. Yesterday, I saw her stand watching the line of female convicts—those with in- fants—as one after the other they tiled out, each with her baby in her arms, and pawed into the exercising ground. Af- terward, I watched her slip into one of the empty cells, fold up a child's cap that had been left lying about, and look at it wistfully, ea if she almost envied the forlorn occupant of that dreary nook, where. at least, the mother had her child with her continually. Poor Lydia ! she may have been a girl of weak will, easily lead astray must have been, and will al- ways he, her affections. Perhaps, as the grandmother cannot write,, it would be a comfort to Lydia, if your next letter enabled me to give to her a fuller account of the welfare of little Frank. I wonder, does his father ever think of him, or of that:poor mother. He was "always kind to them," you tell me she declared; possibly fond of them, so far as a selfish man can be. But how ani such a one as he understand what it must be to be a father ' My love, 1 must cause writing now. it is midnight, and I neve to take as much sleep as i can; my work is very hard just st present; bat happy work. because, through it, I look forward to a future. Tour father's brief mussy, of thanks Ur my telegram about Mr. Traherne was tied- Will you asknowledge it in the way you moulder ween b. most pleating —that i., least aapluming, to him, frost me 1 A,,•1 ova ferewell—fanwe:I, my rely �I:crho• MAX rtIOTEART. P. ik—Atter the fs,hion .r .i lady's yen ere toad of, this ignorant, foolish, mighty, child, it is your wife, whim, ye. yourself chose, to whose yes your - ea gave her place awl rights. who mines es you with her heals fe11 of lope sad ▪ Now, so mese of tliis, fee I hers mach t. tell you -I ieil ys svdrythIng; los know tow gated; dais, winter has petaed adisy'wit� ca 5 Ruq)Rmouat; how, from the time 1Pen4upe retuned, she and 1 sestet/4 to begiq our litres meow together, in one setae begl,iumutg shoat as little children, ltv{nroll in the present; Intent with sorb day's work sad each day's pleasure- and it was wonderful how many small pleasures se found—never allowing oupeelves either to dwell on the future or revert to the past, except when, by your desire, I told my sister of Francis s having passed through the Insolvent Court, and how you were hoping to obtain for him • aitu- ation as corresponding clerk. Poe r Francis! all his grand German and Spanish to hare sunk down to the writ- ing of a merchant s business letters, in a CHAPTER XXXIV. HICK amen. A fourth Monday, and my letter has not come. Oh, Max, Max ! You are not ill, I know; for Augustus saw you on Saturday. Why were you in such haste to slip away free him 7 He himself even noticed it. For me, had I not then heard of your well-being. I should have disquieted my- self sorely. Three weeks—twenty-one days—it is a long time to go about as if there were a stone lying in the corner of one's heart, or a thorn piercing it. One may not acknowledge this: one's reason, or better, one's lose, may often quite argue it down; yet, it is there. This morning, when the little postman went whistling past Rockmount gate, I turned almost sick with fear. Understand me—not with one sort of fear. Faithlessness or forge*olness are —well, with you they are—simply im- possible: But you are my Max; any- thing happening to you happens to me; nothing an hurt you without hurting me. Do you feel this as I do? it so, surely, under any circumstances you I would write. Forgive! I meant not to blame you; we never ought to blame what we can- not understand. Besides, all this sus- pense may end to -morrow. Max dote not intend to wound one; Max loves me. Just now, sitting quiet, I seemed to hear you saying, "My little lady," as distinctly as if you were close at hand, and had called me. Yet it is a year since I have heard the sound of your voice, or wan your face. Augustus says, of late, you have turn. ed quite gray. Never mind, Max! I like silver Lacks. An old man I knew used to say, "At the root of every gray hair is la cell of wisdom." How will you be able to bear with the foolishness of this mel Yet all the better for you. I know you would soon be ten years younger— looks and all—if, after your hard work, you had a home to come back to, and— and Inc. See how conceited we grow' See the demoralizing result of having been for a whole year lived and cared for; of knowing ourselves, for the first time in our lives, first objett to somebody ! There now, i can laugh again; and soI may begin and write my letter. It shall not be a sod er complaining letter, if I ran help it. pring is coming n tast. I never re- member such a March. Buda of chest- nuts bursting, blackbirds singing, prim- roses out in the lane, a cloud of snowy wind -flowers gleaming through the trees of my favorite wood, concerning which, you remember, we had our oelehmtted battle about the blue -bells and hyacinth& These are putting out their leaves al- ready; there will be such gnantitiea this year. How I should like to show you my hank of—ahem! blue -bells! Misci ieveous still, you perceive. Ob- stinate, likewise; almost as obstinate as —yam. Augustus hints at some 'unpleasant business" you have been engaged in lately. I conclude some oostrovseay, in which you have to "hold your own" more firmly than uses/. Or new "M1e- mies"—basineta foes only, of comae, about which you told me I must net grieve; you will live down any passing animosity. It will be all smoesh ►e^:n • by-and-by. But in the meantim *ahoy sot de11 in 1 am mot a child--ande eo be your wife. -lax. Ah! now the thorn is .out, for nae ,itt a sting of pain it isn't this child musty Liverpool office! Will he ever bear its Well, except this time, and once afterward, his nuns hes never been mentioned, eithe. by Penelope or Inc. The second time happened thus -1 did not tell you then, so I will now. When our Christmas bills came in—our private ones, my sinter had no money to meet them. I soon guessed that—as, from your letter, I had already guessed where her half -yearly alllwa e* had gone. I was perplexed, for, though she now con- fides to me nearly everything of her daily- concerns, she has never told me that. Yet she must have known I knew —that you would be sure to tell me. At last, one morning es I was passing the door of her room, she called me in. She was standing before a chest of drawers, which I had notioed, she al- ways kept locked But today the top drawer was open, and out of • small jewel -case that lay on it, she had taken a string of pearls. "You remember thiar' Oh! yes. But Penelope looked steadi- ly at it; so, of course, did I. "Hove you nny idea, Dora, what it is worth, or how much Sir William gave for it?" I knew; for Liaabel had told me her- self, in the days when we were all rack- ing our brains to find out suitable mar- riage presents for the governors lady. "Do you think it would be wrong, or that the Treherne. would be annoyed if 1 sold its" "Sold it'" "I have no money—and my bills must be paid. It is not dishonest to sell what is one's own, though it maybe somewhat painful." I could say nothiag. The pain was keen—even to me. She then reminded me how Mrs. Granton had once admired these pearls, saying, when Colin married she should like to give her daughter-in-law just such another necklace. "If she would buy it now—if you would not mind asking her -- "No, n„ !" Thank you, Dors." She replaeed tete necklace in its case, and gave it into my hand. I was slipping out of the room, when she said: '`One moment, child. There was something more I wished to nay to you. Look here." -She uulocked drawer atter drawer. There lay, carefully arranged, all her wedding -clothes, even to the white silk drew, the wreath and veil. Everything was put away in Penelope's own tidy, over -particular fashion, wrapped in silver paper, or smoothly folded, with sprigs of lavender between. She must have done it leisurely and orderly, after her pecu- liar habit, whjch made us, 'when she WAS only a girl of seventeen, tease Penelope by calling her "old maid." Even now, she paused more than once to refold or rearrange something—ten- derly, as one would arrange the clothes o` a person who was dead—then closed and lucked every drawer, putting the key, not on her house -hold bunch, but in a corner of her desk. [To ea aonnevaD.j Yellow thl is unsufor the cure of Burns, Scalds iota, Wounds, Frost Bites and ChBrilblains. No other medicine required in the household. It is fur internal u well as external use. Every bottle is guaranteed to give ytis- fsction. All medicine dealers sell it Cure that Cough ! t os. can do it speed- ily, safely and sorely with Hagytd's Postoral Baler». Now is the season to guard against adds. I1 you world pre- vent Consumption n�g1ect set the most trifling memptoms. aA gyard'i Pectoral B•itam will never fail fou. It euro. Croupp Asthma. Broaehttis, Whooping Cengh� and all Pattnons.y complaints Obtain it rof your druggiaR ZOp11;�A non BaauL --As a }.so i l of Ills ale esMmeraial enterprise jcs' dttspe.Moe. with Brasil. is th e tnt.rnd of , ss. jrarUy eel.• healed whore it is own for the cute of Indigestion. The oewp.ay Bare opened a kbeintory in Toronto. Bops .4 Melte M nati gh!y enl...wd : .' ,.. one d. its fi, r .:td ML1ast\ • h. j)4eatir. tit{ ,s, is ew'tej ty t, ',lien and car• Dyspe,ew and Cimetipasios. teaks this twiner• ab:e rigs:mend $ weesid t7 in b3ot') ..• tl twists. crit ti0 s ill had r 1► -hulks. Druggist, ek h A HORTIO U LTU dtaessasMe la ay The Stratford 1R its report of the St Society meeting, R aIDDIA about which Mr. ' the following ideas Verbenas. —If 1 single class of plan ation out of doors, be my choice, for i range of color th with the exception anlntu. In additic of trailing habit t by heavy rains or i of the most florifer dom. It begins few inches high, a destroyed by frost, not putting this i do, as it will star uninjured, and by the cooler days a pert of May the soil, thus enabling the scorching sun of June. It is ars to have a contint throughout the bens, in common should have fre not particular wl organdy nature, and well drained. Geraniums. —T entitled to be till en, for no plant c general utility. plants that col be entire year. It window, the con garden. When plants that are re preferable to tho vioe in the wind ing the winter, a pact a plant that to oontinue to b summer. The t for the vorbena geranium, both early planting. of bloom begin ti cut off, for one t seed, is said t powers of a plan en trusses of blo usually grown in bedding purpose bound. If the grown in a 4-inc ter satisfaction the roots would ing order, in w take kindly to tl out new mots al to be gained by working order, plant that is pc ground, the m roots will gent you can give it, to perish for wi This, combined amateur' garde their geranlun danger of frost ion the chief doing as well planted slut frc May, for after lytobe frost a ially injure ti of this I woulc ter Fad eight anium house, copious drencl not leave this some of the v Notable anion silver -leaved, the most qtt while the lett treat with der The pansy plant in shade known that it nor praise. soil, with 11 plenty of wat gratitude by flowers of do ordinary tre plant, it is should be gel will permit, root'', u the for flowers. The hello' f ul plants do without, and sweetne what tende planted nut annum. Anneals. - without dot useful sane because of i and durabi water Th scarlet. lila eye of snmi masses the; once than it is not re its of name many Mb which will months 4 notably e