The Exeter Advocate, 1894-9-13, Page 7AT CRASS PURPOSES.
T was all Celia's fault.
If it hadn't been for her it would
nstrengever have occurred to mo that any
quarrel was necessary to prove the
th of his love; I should have
taken it for granted, and been happy
still.
I detest Celia.
"Vire were so happy till she came to stay
with Jack's people and told me I was
spoiling him: Of course it was no busi-
•mess of hers if I were, she admitted that;
but she was so fond of me that she felt
she Dust speak, being older 'and more ex-
perienced than T, and implore me to re-
member that it wasn't only my lover I
was spoiling, but my future husband
and. if I let him have his own way in
everything now, I should never be able
to have mine by and by when we were
married. She spoke so seriously about it
that I couldn't help being a little im-
pressed though of course.I didn't let her
know that, and I wouldn't have told her
for the world that I intended to ask her
advice on=the first opportunity that of-
fered. For it was one thing to quarrel
privately with Jack, but quite another
to tell Celia that I was going to do it
and take her into my confidence against
him.
So Tack and I quarrelled at the Horne's
dance last night.
I hardly know what it was about' in the
first instance, but it grew and grow until
it seethed to me there was nothing we
weren't quarrelling about, and Jack was
soon terribly in earnest. Though we had
been engaged for three weeks, 1'd no idea
he had it in him to be so angry; and, of
course, I lost my head, and got angry, too
—really angry—and said horrid things;
ancl— and—I told him our engagement
was broken off, and there must be an end
of everything between us ; and—and—
Jack took me at my word. I never
thought of his doing that.
"As you please," he said, speaking
quite quietly all of a sudden. We were
in the conservatory and the dance music
in the drawing -room must have drowned
the sound of our voices half a dozen
!yards away. "You wish our engagement
to end, Maud? So be it, Your letters
t shall be returned to yon to -morrow, and
I will at once leave you free to resume
your flirtation with Prank Horne."
"But—Jack—"
His face was set and white. He never
even looked at me. The music ceased.
Celia and several other dancers strolled
into the conservatory and he left me.
Yes, he went away and danced with
other girls, and he never spoke one word
to me or tame near me again the whole
evening.
Of course I danced, too—what else
could I do under the 'circumstances ? I
. 1 danced with Frank Horne, and I flirted
with him a little—not as Jack flirted with
Mollie and Kate and Celia. and half a
dozen more—but just enough to show him
that I could amuse myself very well with-
out himand that I wasn't taking our
quarrel t,o heart.
I was acting a lie, and I did it very
creditably.
Yes, Jack and I have quarrelled, and it
is all Celia's fault.
Our engagement is broken off—we have
said there is not to be an engagement any
store—and now—
Oh, how miserable I am !
It is a clull November afternoon, and
mamma has gone out, so I sit alone in
the fire -lit dining room, and think over
all that had happened last night, and
wonder what Jack's next move will be.
Surely—surely, he cannot mean—
He has not returned my letters yet ;
surely that is a hopeful sign.
I am still wearing the ring he gave me.
I suppose if he returns my letters I shall
have to—
No—no. I can't part with it. He
could not be so cruel, so unreasonable.
His letters, too. Must I give them up ?
I turn them over in my hand—such a lit-
tle bundle of them as there is, and so very
hard to read till one .learns to know the
writing, or to love the writer, which is
it ?—and remember the pleasure with
which I first received them, and the pride
• with whichIhave often poured over them
since. I pore over them now, straining
my eyes to decipher the well-known char-
acters in the flickering firelight. Dear
Jack, what a vile -hand he writes, and
how very nicely he expresses—
Hark ! some one is crossing the hall.
•Surely Jane won't be so foolish as to show
any one in here now.
in another moment "Mr. Drayton" is
announced, and Jack himself stands be-
fore me. A
"Sack !" I started to my feet, and all
these treasured documents fall, rustling
to the floor, but I never think of them.
Who thinks of love letters in presence of
the writer? Jack is here, my Jack,
hide iny troubled face. "You know I'ni
never good at this sort of thing,"
"I know," shortly.
"I can't do it !" and a great tear
sphlat• shes on the packet, "I'm very sorry,
"Don't bother about it," and he lays.
his hand on mine suddenly, "No need
for such a fuss. Give them to me as they
are."
"t What aro yogi going to do with
them?" as he takes them from my
tremblintlhands.
•
"Putt em in the fire," and he turns to
do so.
"No; no, no !" I cry, springing for-
ward, and laying a detaining hand on his
arm. "Oh, dont, Jack !"
"Why not?" pausing. "You don't
want thorn, and I'm stn•° I don't."
" I—I do ! Please give theta back to
me!"
"'What for?"
"To keep ! To remind. me—"
" Of my folly?"
"Of my own. I—"
" Your folly is over and done with. Our
engagement is "broken off !" he says
moodily. "Better forget "
it ever existed.
"I cannot do that," with an irrepres-
sible little sob. "I am waiting for those
letters."
"Take them, then," and he throws
them down on the table. "Keep them to
compare with Horne's, if you like. I
don't care."
" Howcan you insult me so? What
riklit have you to think inc so mean,,so
heartless?" I cry indignantly; And you
cared for me once—or pretended to !"
" I did care ; I care now, though I knoww
I'm only a fool for my pains!'.' -bitterly.
"Heartless, do you say? How can I help
thinking you heartless after your conduct
last night?"
" My conduct? And what of yours ?
If I danced with Frank, and—yes, flirted
with him a little, you were flirting all the
time with Celia and Mollie, and—oh,
there wasn't a girl in the room that you
didn't flirt with! Did you know there
wasn't 2"
" Yes ; and you should know that there
is safety in numbers," he retorts, fixing
his dark eyes on mine reproachfully.
"But you, Maud, you flirted with Frank
all the time ; and with no one but Frank.
A very different thing !"
"And what was I to do -when you de-
serted. me? Sit still and look miserable?
Thanks, no. Really, you are unreason-
able."
" You forget that I did not desert you,
as you call it, till after you gave me to
understand. that I -wasn't wanted. You
told me to go, and I went."
" You did -on the instant !"
" And you blame me for that now ! Did
you not mean me to take you at your
word 2"
I look at him as he stands, very tall and
ereot, on. the other side of the fireplace,
his brown eyes, with a certain defiance
in them, watching me intently, and I
feel thankful that at least we are not go-
ing to part in silence. His love may not,
be strong enough to stand the test of our
quarrel, butstill—he loves me. Oh, if I
and—
But is he indeed my Jack?
The first glance at his face recalls me
to myself, and reminds me that he is no
longer my Jack, or Jack at all to me. I
told. him I wished our engagement to end,
and he remembered it, evidently, though
1 for one brief moment have forgotten.
Oh, Jack—Jack !
He waits till the servant has left the
room, then takes a small packet from the
breast pocket of his coat and turns to me.
"This must be my apology for disturb-
ing you," he says, very formally. " 1
thought I had better bring it myself, in
case of accidents."
" For me ?" I speak vaguely, and
without offering to take it. I want to
gain time.
"Yes—your letters.I have no right to
them now !"
" How —how beautifully you have
cked them l"
He turned away with an impatient ges-
s and lays them on the table.
" I need not detain you any, longer,
now my errand is done," he says. quietly.
But—there is something else. Oh,
you forget !" as he looks at mo question-
ingly.
Y,ou have returned my -letters prompt-
ly enough—how can I thank you for such
promptness ?—but you forget your own.
As you say, I have no right to them
now.'
• -- "' You wish me to take -them? Very
well."
But I do not wish him to take them—
anything but that ! 1 want to postpone
the moment of parting, enough that is all.
" ill yoube goodgh to fetch
them?"
vcri,
• . " They are here, on the floor. Will
youg
be good enough to help me pick thein
u.p? � g
He does so without a word, Together
we stoop and collect them; together we
lay them on the table. Together for the
lat time !
1 bring, paper and string, and proceed
to pack them up, while he watches me in
silence.
"I fear this wilt not be suelt a neat par
eel as yours," 1 say,, speaking as steadily
as 1 can, and bending over the table to
only--,—
"Did
nly—"Diel you not mean me to take you at
your word ?" he repeats.
" Not like that," slowly. "You went
-oh, yes—as if you were glad to go. I
dare say you were, but you needn't have
betrayed your feelings quite so plain-
" I haven't the smallest intention of be-
traying my feelings for your gratifica-
tion," he says with some warmth. "You
have treated me shamefully, and I see
little use in discussing it now I don't
want to reproach you for jilting me ;
you've clone it, and that's enough."
"e Jilting you? Oh, Jack !"
" Call it what you please," and he turns
away wearily. "We won't quarrel about
that. Celia was right, I see,"
" Celia ?"
"Yes ; she said it, would only make
matters worse if I saw you. I didn't be-
lieve her, but—"
" Celia tried to stop your coming?"
" If you like to put it in that way, yes,"
with a look of surprise. "But I thought
I ought to bring those letters myself, so I
came."
'krona a bitter sense of duty; I under-
stand."
"Not altogether that." He hesitates a
moment and then adds quickly ,',"I may
as well tell you all since I am here. I
thought—that is, I hoped -there might
have been some misunderstanding, and
you have said more than you really
meant. It all seems so sadden to me,
you known, for I had not grown tired of
our engagement, whatever you may have
done. But since you evidently wish to
quarrel with me I won't stand in your
way. : You might have trusted me,
though, as you have trusted Celia.".
Celia again ! I begin to hate the sound
of her name !
"Celia seems to have been unwarrant-
ably busy with my affairs," I say coldly.
"I don't know, of course, what she may
or may not have told you; but this I do
know that I have never trusted her, and
that I trust her lc ss than ever now."
"You are ungrateful, surely. She tried
to spare you this interview."
"Had it not been for her it would never
have been necessary. But go to her,
since you'd rather take her word than
mine," passionately. "Go to her, and
tell her that she has succeeded, thanks to
my folly and your—"
I break off, unable to speak for the ris-
ing sobs that choke my utterance, and
turn away abruptly to the window.
"Succeeded? Celia?" he repeats more
to himself than to me. "Maud, what is
the meaning of all this? Is it possible
that Celia misunderstood—"
"She misunderstood nothing," I speak
in a dull, expressionless way, and with-
out turning round. "She is .far too clever
for that. It is you who misunderstood,
and I."
!'What have I misunderstood? Oh, if
you won't tell me I must go to Celia
"It seems almost a pity, doesn't it?'' I
say softly, and my voice is scarcely as
steady as it might be, He makes' no re-
ply, but passes liis aria around my waist
and his bold on my hand tightens.
"I've got used to it, you see, and I.
should miss it, May I keep it, Jack ?"
"On one condition,"
"And that is—?"
"That you keep me, too."
"Oh, Jack, how gladly."
He is my Jaek once more, and I tell
him all, my head on his shoulder,
Our quarrel is over and we both detest
Celia, She can never come between us
any more.
FOR AND ABOUT WOMEN.
USEFUL AND INTERISTING.
In this Column will be round Many Items
of Value to the Wooten of Canada. It
Will Pay Ail to React€It.
"I wish I did not have to "grow old!"
It ' was the sigh of a beautiful woman
agonizing over the discovery of her first
crow's foot. And a common sense woman
retorted wisely: "Next to that dreadful'
inevitable comes the fine art of growing
old gracefully." Old age need not neces-
sarily stand for disease or decrepitude.
To grow old gracefully means to substi-
tute moral and spiritual graces for the
bloom of youth that shakes a woman's
cheek soft and round ; to weave into the
web of otic lives golden strands of tender
thought for others that shall make the
world oblivious of the silver strands with
which time is threatening our locks. The
most beautiful old age is the one that
most nearly approaches self-effacement,
leaving time for us to observe that others
have trials to be endured greater than
ever we bore, perhaps, and sorrows to be
soothed. A sweet-faced, smooth -temper-
ed old lady, who was once asked to give
the secret of her perennial youth, said:
"I never worry. Women fret themselves
into wrinkles and then fret because they
are Wrinkled. If I can remedy a thing
do it just as promptly as possible. Ifd
cannot, I endure it just as quiety as pos-
sible. That is all the secret I amposscss-
ed of."
x x
and="
"Yes, go to her. What are you staying
here for?"
"Nothing now," and he walks to the
door. In anotherinstant he will be
gone.
Can I let him go like this? No, a thou-
sand times, no."
"Wait," and I turn im julsively "you
—you have forgotten something."
"Have I? And what?"
"Your ring. I have no right to it now,
as"rryou say.
I never said so, but 1 o checks
himself. '"Give it to me, then."
"Come and take it."
I cannot,1 will not take it off. I try in
a feeble, purposeless sort of way, con-
scious that his eyes are upon nue a;11 the
time. Then I desist and book at him,
laughing nervously..
"I can't do it, Jack, if you want it you
must take it off yourself," and 1: hold out
my hand,
"No, dear, I don't want it. If it is to
come off at all you must take it,''
"I have been wakefully considering the
wooing of nature's sweet restorer' of
late," said a rather nervous woman, "and
I find there is nothing so good, after all,
as lighting a candle and reading light
fiction, which soothes and distracts the
mind without exciting it. Any specifics
for sleeplessness I should carefully avoid,
as in the end they are sure to bring
trouble. A big bed for a sleepless person
is a necessity, for it gives unrestrained
change of position. A warm bath at
night with a good rubbing is also most
beneficial, and so is a wafer cracker eaten
to draw the blood from the head; but be-
ware of employing artificial means of in-
ducing sleep. Any drug is bound. to lose
its effect soon or late, and it entails even-
tually much greater discomfort. There
is a truth that has taken me years to
learn ; but now that I have discarded
everything of the sort I find that although
I shall never be what is called a sound
sleeper, by calling philosophy to my aid
and accepting the situation, I really suffer
less from sleeplessness than I used to do
when I tried everything that was sug-
gested to me,"
x x
S VAIATING AN 4VA.I,ANCIIE.
He Missed a Seat in the Legislature, But
Beeame a Public Benefactor.
Captain Taylor, of Wyoming, eh?"
5 Yes, sir."
"Is it the Capt, Taylor who ran for the
Legislature three or four years ago ?"
",'Clio same man,''
"And•got defeated because he tipped
over a mountain out there somewhere?"
" I didn't exactly do that, but I was
beaten all the same."
"Captain, there was a story of some
sort about you and a mountain. Give
me enough to .make a. page of our news
paper.''
".It won't be as long as that, but I'll
tell' you all about it," laughed the oapt:un
as he settled : down .on the cushion of a
smoker on the C. P. R, road the other
day.
Having lighted a fresh cigar and
thoughtfully stroked his nose . for a mo
ment he continued :
"You don't know -Where Tom's mown-
fain is, of cotrse, and so I tell you that
it is due south of the town of Rawlins, on
the Union Pacific road, and only about
twenty miles away. Used to be lot's of
game up there, for it's a • pretty fair
chunk of a mountain and well covered
with timber. Five yeats.ago a party of
us went up there on a hunt, and it was
then the incident happened you have
probably hoard of, . We had a camp
about a mile from the south end of the
mountain. Between the camp and the
end I one day carne upon a, great °rack or
fissure. It was a mile long, from a foot
to three feet wide, and from ten to a hun-
dred feet deep. It was as if the south end
of the mountain had sagged down rind
was trying to pull away from the other
portion."
"I've got your fissure, captain."
"All right. About the middle of the
mountain where the fissure was widest,
it was filled with ice to within five feetof
the surface. I dropped down on the ice
and found it as hard as iron and as cold
as a miser's heart. It may have been
there for a thousand years, for all I
know."
"Remains of the glacial epoch," sage-
ly observed the man with the notebook.
"Now, then, why I should go and make
a fool of myself about that fissure is be-
yond my reasoning, but I went into it
with my eyes wide open. I suddenly felt
tender towards that ice, which hadn't
been thawed for so many centuries, and
determined to give it a change of feel-
ings. There was Heaps of dry wood
about, and I spent an hour tumbling stuff
into that fissure. Leaves, brush, limbs,
roots and logs—everything went. When
the fixe got under headway there was a
great frying and sizzling down in the
cold recesses. I got tiredof the fun after
a while and went back to camp. That
night about midnight Tom's mountain
shook herself three or four times as if she
had a chill. Next morning we went out
to the fissure to find ourselves looking
down a precipice. The whole south en
of the mountain had taken a slide."
"Your bonfire did the biz?"
"Well, that's where I differed with the
infernal opposition. They said it melted
the ice and brought about the avalanche,
and that only a fool would have started
the fire. I got four geologists to swear
that it made no difference, but whenelec-
tion day came I wasn'thalf elected. The
papers said that a man who'd fool with a
mountain a million years old wouldn't
hesitate to sell his influence to any corpo-
ration which wanted to dam a river dis-
covered only one hundred years ago."
"Did the avalanche do any great harm,
captain?"
"Oh, no. It was the principal of the
thing they looked at. A hundred million
wagon loads of earth'and rock filled up a
valley six miles long by three wide, and
the bed of St. Vram's river was carried
seven miles south and given sixteen new
crooks, but no damage was done."
"And you felt sore over your defeat, of
course?"
"Yes, for a time. In about a year,
however, I found that I was looked upon
as a great public benefactor, and that was
some consolation."
"As how, captain?"
"Why, for three straight miles on that
south end there's a smooth cliff from
twenty to two hundred feet high. I was
out there last summer and counted 'em
anti there was just 480, with a new one
thou going up."
"Counted what?"
"Beautifully painted signs of pills, sar-
saparilla, sewing machines, tooth -powd-
ers, summer hotels, writing fluid, liver
invigorator, pile ointment, and so forth!
I hear that the advertising agents of
America are going to present me with a
Wyoming cattle ranch fifty miles long by
thirty broad, and throw in 10,000 head
of cattle, and if it comes my way I shall
take it in."
A girl who has a brother knows how a
young man is apt to talk at the breakfast
table the morning next after he has made
an evening call. "Yes," he admits, "I
did stay later than I ought—I know that
very well—hut what's a man to when a.
girl starts a new topic of conversation'
every time a man makes a move to go, or
tells him that he is always in a hurry to
get away when he comes there? You
have to 'be polite !" And she knows with
what relish he always tells about the
young lady who informed him flatly one
evening that ten o'clock was the leaving
hour at her hone. He did not enjoy it
particularly .at the time, he owns, but he
has had a mighty respect for that young
lady ever since. - So the girl who has a
brother. says a writer, ponders on these
things and never trges a gentleman cal-
ler to remain after ten o'clock has struck.
Her Plan.
"To -morrow night, cleare'st," he said
as he drew her closer to him, "tomorrow
my bachelor's farewell dinner takes place
at the club, so you in.ust not expect me to
call."
"Oh, I know all about it," she exclaim-
ed animatedly. "Brother Jack has told
me about those bachelors' farewell din-
ners, and how you all get together for
one final lark before the one who is to
he married settles down for his future
life."
"What did Jack tell you?" he asked
suspiciously.
"Everything I retuned
she reuned
brightly. "Hae told me about the cham-
pagne and the toasts and the glorious
tune they always have on the eve of a
man's giving up his freedom." There
was not a trace of vexation in her tone,
and she went on in the same vivacious
way: "I told him I didn't see why girls
shouldn't have those consolation parties,
too. They give up just as much, and
sometimes more, and 1 think they are
entitled to one good lark with their old
friends ; don't you, George ?"
But George was thinking very hard
and seemed troubled, so she continued,
without waiting for an answer:: "I got
Jack to tell me all about the last one he
went to, and then I arranged for one
myself just like it. I want to do what is
proper, you know, George, and so I told
the girls that the night you had your
final blow-out—that's what Jack called it
—we would have one, too. We've en-
gaged the prettiest little , supper . room
you ever saw, and we are going to have
the. jolliest land of a farewell spread—
just like yours. They will all say.g d -
bye to me and tell 'me how sorry they
ate to lase me, and we'll sing a lot of
jolly songs and have lots of good things
to eat and drink, and make a regular
time of it."
"We were a little doubtful about it at
first; but,,.of course, we could see that
there was just as much reason in our din-
ner as in yours, and is
"1 believe,. Clara,„ he interrupted,
speaking slowly and thoughtfully, "I be-
lieve that I will give up that dinner.,
The more 1 think of it the more I think
that 1 would rather call hero than go to
the finest dinner ever given. I never did
like dinners anyway; and, besides, a groat
uncle on my father's side died last Year
and it might seem like an insult to his
memory.
And when the matrimonial ship left
sat lie felt that; its course Was true; but,
omehow, he had an idea that his was not
the only hand on the helm,
NERVOUS • DESS NDENT DI:SEABED
. O MEN
Ti R, OTAASON ."1”. E GLEAS4N3 GI. 0, ROLT INS. 0, O. ROLLING.
`,,
Vi'
•
Before Treatment. Alter Treatmeut: • Before Treatment. After Treatment.
Emissions, Varicocele, Semlfisal•Weakness, Self -Abuse, Syphilis.
Gleet, Stricture, Unnatural Dlechar"ges, Loss of Vital Fluid in
Urine. impotency, Sexual and Mental Weakness, Kidney
and Bladder Diseases Positively CURED OR NO PAY.
16 Years in Detroit. 200,000 Cured.
Young et Middle Yon have led a gaylife or indulged in the vices of early youth. Yon feel
Aged Man. the symptoms stealing over you. Sell abuse or later excesses have broken
down your system, Mentally, ,physically and semsatly yon are not the man you used to be or
should be. Lustful Practices reap rich harvest. Think of the fatnre. Will you heed the
danger signals? Are you nervous and weak; despondent and gloomy; specks before oyes;
back weak and kidneys irritable; palpitation of heart; dreams and losses at night; sedi-
ment in urine;; weakened manhood; pinpleson face; eyes sunken and cheeks hollow; poor
memory; careworn.expression• Varicocele; tired in morning; lifeless; distrustful; lack en-
ergy strength and ambition. bar New Method Treatment will positively cure you. it will
make a man of yon and life will open anew. it a guarantee to cure you or refund ail money paid,
•-No names used without written consent. $t,000 paid for any case we take and cannot
cure.
SNATCHED FROM THE CRAVE—A Warning From the Living.
Emissions "At 15 I learned a bad habit. lied losses for seven years. Tried four doctors
Cured. and •nerve tonics• by the score, without benefit; I became a nervous wreck.
A friend who had been cured by Drs. Kennedy & Kergan of a similar disease, advised me
to try them. I did so„ and in- two months was positively cured. This was eight years
ago, I am now married and have two hep,lthy children."
C. W. LEWIS, Saginaw, Mich,
Varicocele "Varicocele, the result of early vice, made life miserable. I was weak and ner-
Cured. vons= eyes ednken;_bashful in society, hair thin dreams and losses at night no
ambition. The Golden Monitor"opened m' eyes. . The New Method. Treatment of Drs.
Kennedy & Hargan cared me in a few weeks.' L L. PETERSON, Ionia, Mich.
Syphilis "This terrible blood disease was in my system for eight years. Had taken mer -
Cured. miry for two years, but the disease returned. Eyes red, pimples and blotches on
the skin, ulcers in the mouth and on tongue bone pains, falling out of hair, weakness, etc.
My brother, who had been cured of Gleet and Stricture by D*s. Kennedy & Kergan, recom-
mended them. They cared me in a few weeks,, and I thank God I consulted them, No
return of the disease in six years." W. P. M., Jackson, Mich.
A Minister The Rev. W. E. Sparks, of Detroit, says: "I know of no disease so injurious to
Speaks. the mind, body and soul of young men as that of Self Abuse. I have sent many
victims of this lustful habit to Drs. Kennedy & Kergan for treatment. I can heartily en-
dorse their New Method Treatment which cared them when all else failed."
A Doctor "I know nothing in medical science so efficient for the cure of Syphilis and
Recommends Sexual Diseases as the Pew Method Treatment of Drs. Kennedy & Iiergan. Many
It. cases which had baffled snores of physicians were cured in a few weeks. I
have seen this with my own eyes and know it to be a fact." T. E. ALLISON, M. D.
p Have you been guilty? Has your J3lood been diseased? Are you weak? Do you
Reader desire to baa pian? Are yon contemplating marriage? Oar New Dfethod, Treat-
snen will positively cure yon. Cures Guaranteed or No Pay. Consultation Free.
No matter who has treated you, write for an honest opinion free of charge. Ohargee
reasonable. Books Free.—"The Golden Monitor" (illustrated), on Diseases of Men, En-
close postage, two cents. Sealed.
&ITN° Names used without Written Consent. Private. No Medicine
Sent C. 0. D. No Names on Boxes or Envelopes. Everything
Confidential. Question List for Home Treatment and
Cost of Treatment, Free.
'Drs. Kennedy & Kergan, 148 Shelby Street, Detroit, Mich.
The Shooting
Season. Approaches.
--DO ; OU WANT A --
Pim tared and '1 went} -Five Dollar Slot Gun
for $70.001 . .
Chinese Bank Notes. -
Chinese hank notes are more like pro-
missory notes than our bank notes. There
is not and never has been a national
bank, and notes are not used as currency
to any extent. The bankers merely writes
the amount on the note, and puts his pri-
vate seal or chop over it.
Such notes are made out for all sums
from 5 to 20,000 taels, and the Chinese
banker never goes back on his signature.
He pays the notes when -they are present-
ed in silver or gold. The silver is usually
paid according to weight, in lumps, the
shape of a toy bath -tub, ranging in value
all the way from $1 to 550. The usual
size is worth about 550 and it weighs
about five pounds. The gold is made in
long, thin cakes, and is 20 carats fine.
The banker stamps with his private seal
every piece of silver he pays out, and
even the Mexican dollars are !narked thus
with India ink. Every big bank or com-
pany has a man who takes all of the sil-
ver dollars that comes in, and fits them
into holes made in a board, so that when
they lie in them their surface is level
with the board. He then takes a brush
and water and washes them white and
clean as though they had just come from
now stamps his chop on
He1
the mint.1
each of them, and this means that he
guarantees their payment.
Anyone who has been in China will see
the necessity for this. There are no
slu•owder coutnterfeite;ws in the world than
the Chinese, and they are especially adept
inthe plugging of colli. t a sil-
verotter day an American go
ver dollar in trade at Hankow and at-
tempted to pass it at the bank there. He
was told it was not good, and upon his
questioning the matter, the Chinese cash-
ier sent for a candle and lit it. He then
held the .coin over it, and to ! in a moment
it began to melt. The sides fell off and
in the centre was a piece of copper. The
counterfeiters had split a gamine coin
and had hollowed out the two pieces on
the inside so that the copper could be fit-
ted into. theist. They were then patched
together again so neatly that only the
experienced oar of the Chinese shroff could detect the fraud.
The Oxfr,-d Pamasen= gun is ma'it' -f three blades or stripe of Dan arcus st. et.
left c//oke. tent recess ehuks• ulatted iib, treble 1101•. ort„. bolt. be. *. „r • ' i
Plait, lull t.r half nisi., girl.. che..1Le:ed h ret heel pia -e. Case ha*,scut .1 f'l,.e
mouth MI.
Hammerless, With Safety Catch and Indicators.
Sens 0.U.D. ou apprevel, charges both wa} s ti: l e guaranteed if rot es 'le: -
factory.
107 Bore, - $70,00 Net Cash.
12 Bore, - $68.00 Net Cash..
Apply to the editor of this paper.
495.
h'"in.-411if3.'-lailt _�a.l
80 WHEEL
With Perfection -
PneLu!natic Tires . .
lit f
R*80!
tt E MAKE d SPE"IAi. OFF i•'l; R OF
A FIRST-CLASS BICYCLE
tear $GC. This ri,aehine has Ball Bearings to all parts. a ciuding
head and pedals; weld lee.; steel r'awe ; tar gent wheel- ; plate
csr ivo•; adjus:able hannle lar; l'take a d seat pillar; black en-
aniellen; crnrugared mud giiat.ts aur! highly plate( bright parts,
Co ..!dere wi-h firook'' patent or Se, r,•! er saddle, tio1 hag, wrench
ar d idler. Address proprietor o: this aewsi a, er.
A Disappointed Englishman.
"I have just visited a colony of real In-
dians," remarked F, S. Benton, of Lon-
don, England, at the Rossin, "and they
are very different from what I expected.
The Indian to the Euglistnan is still the
war -painted savage of the forest, armed
with a tomahawk and wearing a scalp
lock. What was my surprise on visiting
Walpole Island to see an Indian wearing
a paper collar and to note that his wife
had on corsets. A11 my preconceived
notions vanished and I was, hovever, ex-
pecting a w:arwwhoop, when he said:
"Got a cigarette? '
"I handed tlio noble savage a cigarette
and he puffed it with enjoyment.. I had
hoard at Indian babies all w:•tipped around
with skins and strung up in a tree, so I
asked:
"Any papooses here ?”
"He said something to his wife and
then a girl. came outwith a baby in i1,
baby carriage. You could have knocked
me,,xlown with a• feather. Later I heard
.there was a dance at Algonac on Satin•-
day night and: that Indians would be
present.
• 'Oh,' thought I, 'at least I will see the
ghost dance we Englishmen have read
about in Mayne Reicl's novels.'
"The dilapidated orchestra struelt ulna
•Waldteufel waltz and lo and behold there
was an aboriginal dancing a waltz with
a girl of his own cominlexion. I went into
a dry goods store and there was, a riidiistl
Woman.
"'Give me two yards of pihiki'lbbonn,
spool of cotton, a paper of. needles•! rid ,
rolling pin,' she said,
"That l.w' set me thinking, and to
learn mors about the Indians, as they
should be, I went back to the hotel and
read for an hour about Longfellow's
Minns -Ila -Ha. Then I strolled into a
saloon to see if they kept any Bass' ale,
and there was a stiff' -fingered savage who
called for w hisl: ey., I asked hint if they
had a medicine man on Walpole Island,
and he said they hadn't. But the next
day I did discover a real Indian. There
was an artist on the beach and he had
painted the stiff -fingered chap, stuck
somo feathers in his head and put a hat-
chet in his hand. He was putting him
in a picture, and the looked as though he
was having.hisphotograph taken. Wheat -
ever the stiff -fingered savage would get
tired the artist would give luta a drink.
I gloated over my !discovery and agreed
to buy a picture on the ::pot for 55 so as
to have something to take home with me.
It took about forty drinks to finish the
picture. I marched away with it and we
'eft the model sleepinon the beach in
the sun. When I get -back to London I
shall write a letter to the Times, correct-
ing an erroneous opinion we entertained.
regarding the American Indian.
A young Chuan, who was :being examin-
ed preparatory to uniting with the church,
• was asked, "Under whose preaching were
' converted?" "" Tinder nobody's
pu rettelhing," was the reply; "I *us eon-
' vortcd under my mother's • practicing,"
What a tribute to a consecrated mother-
hood was that young mans answer! ! How
every, near to Christ must that mother
have lived !'