Exeter Advocate, 1913-9-11, Page 2A Dark Shadow:
wettweeeseeesteenneleees
Or, A Coming Vengeance
• OHAF,'TEIi V11, --•(Continued).
"(rood evening," he said. "Dog?"
"Yes; blind men ought not to. be with.
out one. Oh, it's you, it, it?" It is scarce-
ly necessary to say that alto h•td been
looking on during• ,his adventure with the
another and the child, "You seem foud
of this neighborhood. Thinkin' of takin'
a muse here?"
"I've just been calling at your ploce—•-"
ho began to explain;, but she cut in with
ti vicious tug of her bonnet.
"Been to measure the room for a new
carpet -or ;e it a drorin'-reom sweet this
time? Look 'ere, I'm almost glad to meet
;you, for I got somethin' to say about that
planner. Ws going baok; and I'll trouble
you far the addrere o` tkte place to send
it to."
She hitched up her basket, in whiclt
pieoo of mutton, some carrots and pota-
toes, a pound of eanales, and a bar of
soap were lying amicably together like a
happy family, and glared up at his de-
fiantly from under the curlers in which
?ter hair was tightly bound in preparatien
for Sunday.
"Sorry, Miss !ribby," said Olive; "but
it's sold, and I can't take it bask."
"Bold? Who's bought it?"
"Your father- or rather Mies Mina,"
replied Clive, smiling down at her, But
Tibby was not so easily pacified; and her
sharp retort came swiftly as a flash of
lightning.
Ole on the instalment dodge? And I
s'poso you'll be comm' reg'1ar for the
weekly payments, mister?"
The significance in her tone and her ex-
preetive countenance brought the color to
Clfve's face.
"On the contrary; he said, "1 shall not
come again--uutil I am invited," ho ad-
ded.
Then you've seen the last of Benson's
Rente," she said, with an emphatie nod.
"'We're rather pertickler about our ac-
quaintances, and we don't want no truck
with gentlemen in the musieal instrument
and furniture line. You understand me?"
"1'm afraid I do. Miss Tibby." said Clive
gravely, his eyes resting on hers steadily;
"and I am afraid also that I could not
convince you that you are doing nee an
injustice."
Piot in a month o' Sundays," she eafd;
"any more than I should persuade you
to mind your own business."
She gave a toes to her bonnet, and. her
eyes fixed definantly on him to the laat
moment, swung away.. Clive walked on
but preeently felt a tug at his coat, and
turning. looked down et her quaint face,
It was pale and troubled and uncertain.
"Look 'ere; she said, drawing him
,aide; "1 didn't mean to let on so hard.
But I'm puzzled like. 1 eee you with that
child --you can't be a bad sort—"
• "Thank you, Mins Tubby--"
"You'd better hear me out; I ain't fin-
ished yet," she said quickly and signifi-
cantly. "What I mean is, you can't be a
right down bad lot you've got a good
'eart-- But Mina' --she caught her
breath-" Ifina'e all we've got, and. -and -
then only .a kid herself -and more of a
kid than most of 'em. You and your pi
anners will be putting all sorts o' idea
in her 'ead-like the things you read o
in the novelettes. Bee? Oh, ah. yes; you
see right enough. though you fix me with
your eyes. as if you was a lamb in a
slorter-'ouee.''
Olive's face was red, and his link eo
tightly' drawn that they made a straight
dine. For a moment he was silent, then
lie said in a low voice:
"Yes. I understand. You are wrong; but
you have my promise. Good -night.
She hesitated a moment, then she held
out her hand.
"Shake on it," she said laconically and
he shook hands with her.
Tibby's words rang tormentingly in hie
ears as he made his way towards home,
and he put himself on the ingnisitfonal
rack. Why had he taken such an interest
in this strange family? Would he have
followed up their acquaintance, have sent
the piano, if -if Mina had not been a mem-
ber of it? It was ueelees to tell himself
that he was no more keenly interested in
the welfare of that particular family than
ane was in many another which he had
helped; and he admitted, after a turn of
the rack, that the girl's beauty, and her
extraordinary voice, the refinement of her
speech, and manner, and presence, so
strangely inconsistent with her surround-
ings, had influenced him.
That being so -well, Tibby was right in
snlstresp had spoken the other night. Witt
her eyes watching Lady Edith ,cloaely, she
saw Olive raise his bat, and ahe waited
breathlessly. Lady Edith returned his
salutation with a slight bow; she seemed
to hesitate, then she made a little gestuxe,
as if bee/coning him. Sara set her teeth
bard, and dropped her eyes. Clive went
up to the carriage.
"A long block, I'm afraid, Lamy Edith,"
he said.
The colorwas stili lingering in bar face,,
its listlessness had gone, and in ,its place
was a kind of snppreesed eagerness. It
seemed as if she could and nothing to say,
she who was usually so ready with the
small change which pagsea , cnrrent for
conversation in Society.
"Isn't it almost too bot for walking?"
,the saki at last,
tr "We cooler here than in the House, any-
way," he replied tvitt a smile, "I have
Dome out to breathe." Then suddenly a
thought struck him. "I am glad I have
met you, Lady Edith; I wanted to ask a
favor."
The carriage began to move slowly, and
she swept her skirts aside to make room
lor him.
"You had better come in,' she said.
Olive murmured his tbaukt, and got in,
glanoing with natural curiosity at ,the
Hindoo woman as he did so.
"It is Sara, my old nurse; my compan-
ion now," said Lady Edith. We have
been shopping. She has excellent taste;
indeed, she dresses me now ae the used
to do when I was a child!"
Clive inclined his head; but Sara look-
ed straight before her, as if she were deaf
and dumb,
You don't often ask favors, do you. Mr.
Harvey?" said Lady Edith. "I am won-
dering what it is you want me to do for
you. Shall I promise beforehand?"
"No; but I hope you will promise to help
me when you have heard what it is," he
replied. " Xou have such a large circle of
friends; do you happen to know of any
young people who want violin lessons?"
She thought for a moment or two, and
Clive, during the pause, noticed half-un-
eoneoiously how exquisitely dreeved she
was; certainly the woman, who looked so
strangely incongruous, with her dusky
hair and black eyee. her gold ear -rings
and her semi -Oriental dress, deserved her
mietress's tribute to her taste.
"Let me explain," he said. "I want to
interest you in the case of a struggling
ususioian-I mean a real musician,; one of
the beet violinists I have heard -but quite
unknown. I came acmes him during one
of my rambles in the slums—"
"It is a man!" she eafd quickly. "I
thought it was a woman."
„He looked at her with faint eurprise.
Why? Oh, yes; it is a man. A dwarf,
hunchback, I'm sorry to say. I heard him
playing in the street -oh, don't be afraid!
He is quite presentable, or will be, with a
new suit of clothes. And his manners -
well, I"I1 answer for them."
"You seem very interested in him," she
remarked.
"I am." He was silent far a moment.
• Should he tell her the whole story, tell
s her that hie interest in Blithe was prompt-
! ed by his interest in Mina? Why should
he not But he did not. "I am," he re-
peated. "Re is a good sort, le Blithe; and
his is one of those them of genius hidden
in dark places; one '.of those cases that
ought to be helped into the light
"Is he used' to teaching?""she asked ab-
sently. She had been listening to hie
voice rather than his words, and the voice
etale into her heart, and was welcome
there.
"Yes," he replied, thinking of Mina,
"He can teach singing, anyhow; and I'll
answer for it that he'd be as good at the
violin; though he may not go about it In
the orthodox way. I wish you could see
him; you would be as interested in him
asXam."
She ,smiled. "I'm. afraid not. You eee,
I'm not philanthropist."
"I hear you say it," he retorted smiling-
ly; "but I have my doubts.:
I sup,,cee he is very poor," she said,
leaning back, but with her eyes on his
face, and all her apathy gone.
""Very. So poor that he will be more
than ,satiketied with half the fees the swell
fiddlers demand And get so freely."
"Let me nee," she murmured. "Yes; I
think I can get him some pupils. I have
some young cousins; who will have to
learn, of course; and there are Lady
Standon's nieces. Oh, yes; I think I oan
manage it. Where shall I write to him?"
Clivewas about to give the address; but
checked himself, and said:
"Oh, write to me, if you will be so kind.
It is good of you} But I knew you would
help me."
Her eyes were downcast for a moment,
then she raised them to his swiftly.
"Why?" she asked in a low voice.
Clive smiled. " 'Her heart was as gold-
en as her tear,' " he quoted.
The color rose to her face, and her eves
veiled themeelves, but a smile hovered
about her lips.
"That wae very -pretty," she said. "But
Yon would not have said it if you had
meant it."
I beg your pardon: I meant•it," he re-
turned in his direct. way.
"Did you?" she breathed. "ThenI must
forgive you. But do you always make
flattering allusions to your friends' per-
sonal appearance?"
"No; I don't," he said; "and 1 beg your
pardon, Lady Edith. he words slipped
out before I was aware of them. Yes;
pray, forgive me!'
"I do," she said, "Though I don't think
the line fitted me. I fancy my heart is not
golden,3,wbatever my hair may be. Don't
trouble to contradict me; it wouldn't be
worth while; for you know so little about
either."
I know you have beeu so very kind and
good as to grant my request," he said.
That's warrant enough ter my impertin-
ent quotation."
"Was it impertinent? 1 enppose it was,"
she said. "You thought 1 wae vain about
my hair, so you humored me."
There was a touch, of resentment In her
tone that surprised and nurt Olive; and
he looked at her gravely; but he knew
that it would be wiser to say nothing; and
presently she relented.
"You are almost as bad as Sara there,"
she said with a laugh. "She fusses over
my hair as if -as if it, were her own; and,
if she iias heard you, you will have found
a direct way to her heart."
Clive glanced at the liindoo woman; but
Sara's face was as imparsive and expree-
eionless as if it were carved out of mahog-
any.
I'm' glad," he said. "I want all the
friend, 1 can sett' we all of us do, if we
only knew id Then you will send sae the
addresses of tlw pupils, if you should get
IitiHii ,
eseatsr Edith?"
�,.e , *hall SBL 910121.e910121.I always
Yes. .. ,
get everything I wand,:ailed
"'That's easily' understood,' he re,,,..
laying stress upon Brie promise, And, of
course, he would keep it. Why, what dif-
ficulty would there be in keeping it?
Surely, be did not want to see the girl
again? Ile did not attach the leant im-
portance to Tibby'e statement that his vis-
its would put 'ideas" into Mina's head;
the eyee of a child could not have been
more pure, more free from coquetry, than
those which she had lifted to him; the
eyes in which the innocence of her mind
and heart shone as through crystal; but
all the same, Tibby had a right to rely
on his promise, and it was well he had
given it.
But her outspoken distrust of him and
bis motives saddened him; and when he
reached his rooms he turned up the gas,
and eonght to bury the whole affair in a
more than usually complicated Blue Book;
sad he did not go to bed 'until he was too
tired to think.
CHAPTER VIII.
Harvey strolled oat of the House on
Monday afternoon for a little air. He was
one of those unfortunate men -they are
not numerous -•who cannot sleep in the
House; and usually he listened attentive-
ly to even the prosiest speakers. for he
knew that in a bushel of the verieat chaff
there is always the grain or ear of wheat
which goee to ell the granary of know-
ledge; but this afternoon he found ,it dif-
ficult to follow the honorable gentlemen
who were stammering and faltering
through a debate on that hardy annual,
the Deceased Wife's Sister Bill; the House
was hot and stuffy, though here were
only a store of membere slumbering or
fidgeting in their places; the voices 'seem-
ed to drone like tbe humming of an over-
laden .bee, and the hot June sun struck
keenly through the latticed windows.
He rose, nodded reassuringly to the
'Whip, and sauntered through Palace
Yaed, and into the streets, thinking, not
of the sill, but of how hot it must be in
Benson's 1 ,Sts; and a picture of the
slight figure, '11,•;th the clear ivory face
bending over the°)nya of the piano, start-
ed up before him. It Yee wonderful how
plainly he could, see her •r hy,was it, why
could he not forget the girl P''r'. ibh an un-
conscious ,gesture of itnpatienco,'he cntiek-
(Med i,Le we, je4 ?'ked On to
06-06-1,44.i4,atie- ':netting on the rai,ings tw Lr ir.
"fid the neverending proceesion of ear -
lieges, Every now and again a lady bow-
ed to hini, and Clive raised his hat; but
he was preoccupied, and tbe greeting and
+f1rn a rifle that accompanied it were meth -
Presently there «ante a block, and a
carriage otopped almost in front of him.
It, woe the Cheeterleighs', and Lady Edith
was sitting in it, with Sara on the seat
opposite her. I,ady Edith saw Clive he -
fere he saw her; she had been leaning
back rather languidly; but as her Baso
rested cin the tail hone, tbe blood rose
to her face, and involuntarily she 'leant
forward ;with a sudden catch of ber
breath.
:tarn, whose eyes were fixed on her Mas-
trex>„,s face, saw the start and the sadden
blush, and the allot a oulek Blanco at the
than et whom Lady ndith was looking;
ft wee a Mance only, but elle knew that
it was he, Mr, Olive Harvey, of ithens her
simp]y,
She laughed. 'That means that you cote
elder me irreeiietdble, I suppose? Thanks,
Are you Irish, Mr. Harvey?"
"Of oourae,' he admitted laughingly.
"We are three parts Irish and only one
part English."
"Then. I am forewarned," she said, smil-
ing up at him; "and 1 shall only believe
one.fotirth of your pleasant speeohee.-
What nonsense we are talking!" aIle beolte
off with a nbrug of her.ehoulders; but, Iter
face was. beaming, and her usually cola
oyes sparkling, as It she found his non-
sense sweeter than other coon's wisdom,
"Ten me what you have been doing singe
'We mot."..
"Not all!" he retorted with tnoek alarm.
" "frust mo in all or not at a•Il ' " she
retorted. `'You .tet, i :too can quote. f
t onenose You nave neon worlklug hard, eta -
tug the slums --it was 1n the alum You
found your hunchback fiddler? and speak-
ing and writing--?"
"And eating and drinking and sleep-
ing," he finished,
"Do you really findtime for these?" she
asked. "Xf a.A, come 'cud lot mo give you
soma tea, 1,V•e are gging straight Moine."
"I'm sorry," he replied. "But I must
got baok to the bauble shop -some call it
the'Babble' shop. 1'11 get down here, if
I naay?"
"In future years, l 1 am spared, I shall
boast that Mr. Clive Harvor, the great
statesman, onot asked me e. favor," she
said, smiling up at him ae he stood, hat
in band, betide the carriage. "I shall not
bb believed; but no matter."
"And I shall boast that Lady Edith
trained the request said I shall be bo -
'toyed by all who know how golden her
!heart is," he responded,
Ile was turning away with this 'pasting,.
Silken phrase; but she leant forward, and
touobed him lightly on his eleeve to stay
him.
Yon got my aunt's Lady Dalrymple's.
--card?"
lie had forgotten it; but he nodded
swiftly,• ,
Yes; and •
thank your"
When he had gone she . dropped back
with a quick nigh.. Her eyes were down-
cast, but there was a• senile in them, and
a smile curved her lips. She looked up
presently, and met Sara's dark brooding
oyes :fixed on her; and she made a slight
movement, of - impatience.
"That was Mr, Olive Harvey, Sara," she
said, almost defiantly,
Sara nodded, "I know, dearie,". the
Bald,
I meant to out him -I told you," said
Lady Edith with. an uneasy laugh, one al-
most of apology, "But--- Well,.1 didn't,"
"No, deerie, you didn't," < said Sara
eootaningly. 'He's a fine, handsome sahib.
And he is not like the other English sa-
hibs; bo can talk, ah, yes, he clan talk,
Your Mr, Harvey!'
"Yes; he can talk," said rainy Edith
eoftly. "Bat,". the color rose to her 'face
and she laughed, "you must not gall him
'my' Mr. Harvey, Sara."
Sara made no response; but leant hack,
and shut her lips tightly
The House -sat late that night, and Olive
did not reach the'Dalrymple's until past
one. Lady Edith, though she had not
directed a single glance towards the en-
tranoe, and had danced and talked with
the eaae and grape which distinguished
her, began to grow listless and weary.
"Re cometh not," the.plaint of the Lady
of Shalott, echoed In her heart, though
the emile scarcely relaxed on her face, and
her voles gave no hint of the suspense
that gnawed at her and made her furious
with self -scorn; but presently she eaw him
come in, and her scorn was intensified by
elle thrill his near presence caused her.
He came straight across the room to
where the was sitting eurrounded, in an
interval of the dance, by the usual little
group of men who worshipped at her
Shrine; and though every step of his
found its echo in her heart, si;•e did not
lookand at
was himspeaking. until he was close at her side
"Am I too late for a dense, Lady
Edith?" he said. "The Bona is only just
up, alas!"
She looked at her programme. "There
is one waltz," she said coldly; "but my
father is going, I think."
In his prompt fashion Clive went off in
search of him.
Want to dance with Edith?" said Lord
Chesterleigh, smothering a yawn. "Only
Just come? 1 sbould have thought you'd
both of you have been.better in bed; but,
all right, I'll wait, my dear fellow; what
else are fathers good. for?"
Clive went back, and without' a word of-
fered her his arm. Coldly still she walked
by his side; then he put hiearm round
her, and they began to waltz. Her cold-
ness melted as the snow melts in the hot
sun of summer. Clive danced' well;. as do
all men with whom music is a easeion;
with her eyes half erased, her hand lying
in his, .her !cheek almost:. touching:anis
shoulder, they glided to the exquisite
strains of the best band in Europe,.
For the firet time in her 1ife,Edith Ches-
terleigh knew what .bappiness might
mean; for this wae a foretaste of it. Her
heart beat as she had never thought it
could have beaten; ber breath came pain-
fully, yet with a pain that was half a
joy. She raised her eyes -they were heavy-
as
eavyas if the lids were weighted -and looked
up at hien with a shy, tender dreaminess.
But there was ho response in hie. He
was looking straight before him, gravely,
almost sternly -and the very gravity and
sternness added to the spell which held
her in thrall -for he was seeing nothing
of the magnificent ball -rooms, the bril-
liant crowd that thronged them; in their
place was a poor, shabby little room be
Benson's Rents, with a girlish figure bend-
ing over the keys; and the exquisite and
moving music to Which he w'as dancing
was drowned by the five -finger exercises
played by the little street singer -whom
he had promised never to eee again.
(To be continued.)
A Dog Day Story.
Sandy Meivor was "no feelin'
just well," so he went to the doc-
tor. •
"What do you drink V' demanded
the =died:.
"Whisky."
"How much."
"Maybe a bottle a day."
"Do you smoke I"
"Yes."
"Well, you give up whisky and
tobacco altogether!'
Sandy took up his cap and in
three steps reached the door.
"Here 1" called the doctor, "you
have not paid for my advice."
"Ahm no ta,kin' it," snapped
Sandy, as he shut the door behind
him.
• .p.
His Oppgrtunity
"What do you mean, sir?" asked
the indignant maiden as she ex-
tricated herself from her eager lov-
er's arms. "That you are my chance
for happiness," he cried rapturous-
ly, "and always embrace an oppor-
tunity," 'Way," she returned
coldly, `kin this case you are but
hugging a delusion."
NIR1TEf
130Y—"If. you please, father's sent
the ladder back:wot 'e borrered.
He's broke it, and will you 'please
'axe it repaired at onee, 'cos 'e
wants to borrer it agile next Fri-
day."
Oa the Farm
e.'�r�r�►a►'e►�rk's��
Management of the Dairy Herd,
It has . become an axions with
some dairyonien, that the best re-
sults are obtained only with .`the
best breeds of animals, But suc-
cess with such animals implies also
the best management;, :and not
every beginner is capable of the
skilful handling necessary with
high -bred cows, The higher we get
in the scale of animal life, the more
delicate the animal mechanism be-
comes and the greater the need of
wisdom in the human agency which
controls its . movements. It is a
long time before a baby can care
for itself as well as can a bronco
colt at one day old. A bronco colt
can stand more simple hardship
and abuse than can a colt from a
standard -bred trotting mare or a
high-class draft animal, but the
bronco *ill never have the great
speed at the trot of the standard -
bred, nor will it grow -large enough
to have the power of the drafter,
The scrubby native cow can stand
more hardship and abuse than a
highly -developed, dairy cow capable
of doing great work, and the latter
loses her superior commercial value
in unfavorable surz'oundings and
under unfavorable treatment.
It is found, therefore, that sue-
cess in dairying depends as much on
the kind of care and management
bestowed on ehe herd, as upon the
breed. Care anti mans gement are,
for this reason, given the first con-
sideration here. These should in-
clude a much greater degree of at-
tention to the comfort of the ani-
mals that is ordinarily bestowed: In
fact, it can be demonstrated that
the nearer we come to applying the
Golden Rule to the treatment of
the dairy herd, and treating its
members as we would like to be
treated, the larger will be the sat-
isfaction and rewards of dairying.
These ate the touchstones of suc-
cess. When the cow is comfortable
and contented, she responds with a
flow of milk far in excess of that
which she gives when she had been
uncomfortable and irritated.
Everybody knows that in June
weather cows give a larger amount
of milk than in ,cold and wintry
weather. If we aim to produce all
the rest of the year, in stall and
barn, conditions as nearly as pos-
Bible like those of lune -in warmth,
light, freedom from flies, etc., with
succulent food in the form of silage
and roots to replace the June gras-
ses—who shall say that Bossy will
not make ample returns in the milk
pail?
In nothing have most farmers so
sinned against their herds, prdb-
ably, as in the inadequate shelter
provided them against winter's
cold and the hot of summer. Warm,
well -lighted and ventilated stables
are essential to a high rate of pro-
duction. A sanitary barn should
have from four to six square feet of
window space for each cow kept,
Where cows are kept in the stalls
much of the time,' it is not unreas-
onable to say that the barn should
be light enough for one to read in.
Good ventilation is essential; but
it should 'be so arranged that the
cows ''shall .not be exposed to a
draught. "While warmth without
ventilationis conducive to disease,
ventilation without heat ° is a eon-
sumer of .feed." The range of tezzi»
perature in the barn should be kept
between 40 and 6Q degrees P, In
summer the shades should be pulled
down, lest the well -lighted learn be-
oozne too warm, They will also
keep out the flies, Itis well to have
gunny -sacks hung in the doorway;
so that;. as .far as the cow forces her",
way through, the flies will be brush
ed' off her back,
Nowhere on the . farm is cleanli-
ness more desirable than in ;tile
dairy barn, Stalls and half -pews
should be kept free from filth and
moisture. Plenty of bedding should
be usedat all times and the pens
cleaned out frequently. If the calf
pen is not a large one, it, should be
cleaned out every day. In the gut-
ters, it is well to use common slack-
ed lune, or wood ashes, as 'an ab-
sorbent.
COWS should not be kept in "an
ice -house, a hog pen ora dungeon."
A dark, damp and dirty place is
very favorable to the growth of bac-
teria, which may attack the health
of the animals, Plenty of sunlight
keeps the place dry and kills bac;`
teria,
When'. kept in the barn, cows
should be brushed daily, not only to
keep the dirt and hair .from falling
into the milk -pail, but to keep the
pores' of the akin open. Thio makes.
the cow more comfortable, and it
cannot be too often repeated that
anything done to add to the com-
fort of the cow adds to•her product-
iveness,
•
' Pointed Paragraphs.
When. in doubt, tell the truth..
Every time a girl's heart is bro-
ken she eaves the . pieces..
It is easier to make friends than
it is to hold•them.
Even the silent mass is unable to
keep his ignorance under cover. •
Anyway, no man ever has occa-
sion to apologize for doing his duty.
Lots of men are willing t� sell
their experience for ten cents on
the dollar.
Ordinarily a woman manages to
hold her own—with .the. exception
of her tongue. .
If many people were to think be-
fore they speak they would forget
what they were going to say.
"I hear your nephew is training
for the medical profession -is he do-
ing well?" "011, fine ; he bleeds
me to perfection."
IFOr .11kie4erving
-»bag
St. xawretiee Thar* Gra-
nulat by. tbi ,:bag. • Yott get
Ib o ceit,' pure Cane slitar,
uutotxehed, by a iy Iated tram
ROIRC y -446itr kitcbee---and
ilNp• xeoThs,, f lb;t, zo lbs. ,
•cartoaats,lbt fritts +• a
it:.kwssrsi llettarlse,i.BiJei.MWtr.L.
To -Morrow's Weather.
Fine to -day,' when perhapsitl
didn't matter, but will it be fine)
to -morrow 4 Go out in the evening,'
and if the dew lies plentifully oil
the grass, be quite happy it will.i
Don't forget that although "red at;:
night" is a sign of fine weather for
the morrow, if the red spreads far
upwards from the sun's bed, it
means wind or rain, or both. If the
moon looks washed out, pale and
slim, postpone that picnic 1 Rain is'
about. When to -morrow comes andi
brings rain with it, look at the 'sky,{
If it is tinged 'with a sea -green col-,
or, the rain will not stop. But if,
.the color is a deep blue, there wink
be showers only, followed by a'
clearing up and sufishine. If it isi
not actually raining, but the air ref
hazy, look at the sun. If the hazi-'
ness makes it look white and ill -1
defined . or shapeless, don't go fan
away. Rain is coming. The worst
sky sign is when there is a general
cloudiness with small black frag•i
znents of cloud moving underneath.4
That is a sure sign of rein.
4 ANTED -Mom warners As nee to db' Mare coloring for us in
icer:: Proceed. Simple, m home with our wonderful Ohom.
eoiianleal'.work;,.rappidly done. All p„
terns furnished. .Positively 'no oY�sscience required'. We _Irdirnleh the, Freres,
chemicals and euppply.you with tCtpree tb color, which coq return to ns:. 1 �
prices paid promptly by the week or month. No ea'nvaesinj"_,or selling -oar tray-
ellerp sell the goods and the field is unlimited for our work. 11 you want clean
pleasant work the year round for whole or.' spare time, . write ns and we:will send
you contract and the prices we pay. •
COMMERCIAL ART WORKS, 315 COLLEGE STREET, TORONTO, ONT.
t 4R is {T(.0540R
n .
er because there
s Flo turpentine
.,sir to Use, Good for the Shoes
E NISH
Write for a
free copy of
this book
sr wHnr :Me al
F.FLMEIZ
cwt Daw,mH
CO CRETE
}d �' a.
PORTLAND
For a farmer *s silo,
a county road, or a
railroad bridge,
CEIvIEN
Can be depended upon do make concrete that will last for gen
er'ations.---There is onlyone grade—the best that science and skill can make.
The label an every bag is your guarantee
of eati9laction,
Canada Cement Company It sited, Montreal
Thea is a Canada Cement dM/or frrsoar uexghborhood-lj`you do norka,'w herr, ask sr for Iris rrrmt