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The Exeter Times, 1894-10-18, Page 6Cures Consumption, conghs, Cr oup, Sore ith,r00. Sold)* allleruenots on e. Guarantee. oor g Side, "Back or Olie:,•?; Shiloh's Porous Mester will give gre at seat friction. -ns ccu5, SHILOH'S VITALIZER., Tarcl• FL FraWbillii3Oliattrincoate Tonna ea Viterazer.rad.V.142,), consideretterthe,streme,dgeereale ngeetenseetens /everused," ForDyepepsia eager or Xfaney trouble et excels. ,1ee-'10. !.1 ILO H'S CATARli FIE EDT, Have you Caterrh? Try tide Remedy. It positively relieve and. Cure yen. Prine &I ots, This Injector %or its successful treatment is furuished free. HFunem5'er,81Molreltemedie6 are WO- emaranteet -ire satisfaction. LEGAL, H. DICKSON, Barrister, S 01i - s oi tor o t Supreme Court, N o bevy • Public, Conveyancer, Clumnatesioner. Money to Lean; °Meet n enson'allilook, Exeter, R j, COLLINS, Barrister , Solicitor, Bouveyancer, Btu. BXETER, ONT, 0117.1.0E : Over O'Neil's Bank. ELLIOT & ELLIOT, krristors, Solicitors, Notaries Public CoaveyanceTs &c, (te, KR -Money to Loan at Lowest Rates of interest. OFFIOE, - MAIN - STREET, EXETER. H. 4. MUM'. FREDERICK .T,Layr. 1.151211%. MEDICAL T w. BROWNING II. D., 0 • P. 5, Graduate Vletoria. Univers ty; office and residence, Domlnion Lebo n tory „Ilse her , T)R. RYNDMAN, ooroner for taa L.- County of Huron. °Mee, opp..atte Carling Bras. store, Exeter. DRS. ROLLINS & AIEOS. Separate ()aloes. Resid,ence,semer as former. ry. Andrew 9t. Offices: Spackman's building. Hain st; De Rollins' same as formerly, north loor; Dr. Amos" eame buliding, smith door, T.. ROL,LINS, M.D., T. A. AllOS.M. D Exeter, Ont AUCTIONEERS. T,. RARDY, LICENSED A CIO- tieneer for the Coanty of Huron. Charges moderate. Exeter In 0. BOSSENBERRY, General Li - . ceased Auctioneer Sales conducted in allparts. Setisfectionguaa•antesil. Charges moderate. Hensell? 0, Oat -ETENR])Y EILBER Licese d Auc- tioneer for the Cou.ntie$ of Rum end Midelesex Sales conducted at mod- erate rates. utnee, at etost-oinee Crea- tor Oet. waxmalcrosoccrx..ncermascl MONEY TO LOAN. 1JFONF TO LOAN AT 6 AND ilTat.Per cent, 605,000 Private Feuds. Best iiag Con:pen: es represented. L. H. DICKSON'. Barrister, Exeter. SURVEYING. FRED W. FARNOOM.B, Provinciad Land Surveyor, ad. OM El :El T0 Office, Ilpetairs, SamweirsBlock, ExeteeOnt VETERINARY. Tennent& Tennent Exiisvert. ONT. era cloateeoithe Ontario Veterinary 13 31 If e, Garter : One ,icor Sonth orTowe 119.11. rpliE WATERLOO ATUTUAL _L. ?IRE INSURANC E 0 0 Established in 1863. flEAD OFFIGE • WATERLOO, ONT. This Company has been over Tweet v-eith years in successful oiler tion in Western 0 flied°, and continues to insure against loss or damage by Fire, Buildings eferearwidiee Manufactories and all other 'deserrptions of insurable property. Intending inearers have the option of insuring on the Premium Note or lash System. During the_paat ten years this company has ,sseed 5/ ,0e6 Policies. coverlet; property to the maims of a40,872e38; and paid in losses aione 1705.752.00. Aseets, :61.18,100.00, consisting of Clash in Bank Government Depositeed the unasses- Fed Premium itotes on hand and in force 1.1VMALoss, M.D.. Presiders t; 0 AL Te Imo et teeeeeny J. IL Manias, respecter. BIZELL, igent for Exeter and vicinity The Moisons Bank -,(OlIARTER.ED BY PARLIAMENT, 1855) Paid up Capital - - 52,000,000 Rest Fund - - 1,000,000 Plead Mee, Montreal, F. WOLFERS TAN THOITAS,,ESC., GENERAL MATTAO xis Money advanced to good farmere on their own note wirb one or more endorser at per Dentine annum. Roster Braneh. Open every lawful day, from la a.m. to 8 p. 211 SATURDAYS, 10 a.m, to 1 p.m, cetrreht rates of interest allowetl on deposit N. DYER ELTIRDON, Sub -Manager. POWDERS Cure SIOlf NEADA014Z ,and ineuralgio. In 20 nesnIttros, tato Coated rorigucaDizei- riess,,Biliousness, Pain in the Side, Cmistmation, Torpid Liver., Bad Breath. tostay cured also regulate tbe ictowls. yang &Ice aake. •tenecter „ea Corirra. DRuct STONl If.MAPT4R IV -a Coennlanan.) "That a long way to look ahead," gad Arden. "Ihope she will grow up a light- hearted, happy girl, hee Mind so well furnished, her inemoryse full of interesting things, that sheen the evil yea Apprehend ever come to pees she maybe strong enough • to hear the ahock. In the meantime 1 true* that all her friends in this place, from the highest to the lowest, will do their best to keep her in imearanee of everything except the one fact that ahe has lost a good and affectionate father„" While this conversation was going on in the elrwriingeroom, Mrs. Talbot was stroll- ing about the garden to geb rid of time, in secordatme with Mr. Reardon's auagestion that it would be well to leave the mourn- er to herself for an hour or so. The lawo and, river, the &were and. shrubs were in the perfection of their summer beenty ; lumps of roses, hedges of roses; standard roses, dwarf roles, blush roses, climbing roses, made the glory of the long, tarrow lawn, and between the lawn and the river there WM a terrace with great green tubs eantainiug orange -trees ranged at regular interval. There was a flight of steps, lead ing to the river at each end of the terrace, and at the western end, with its back to the setting sun, there was a summer -house of classic form, in. Portlansi stone, a summer Imam which in Italy would have been of marble, At the eastern end of the terrace, and. on a lower level, there was a capaoioue haiat-bonse, containing a temple of ou.trig- gers, a punt, and a skiff, and the level roof of this boat -house had been a fa.vorite lonaging-place of Robert Ratrell and his friends-aplace on which to talk and smoke hi the summer twilight as the pleasure - boats wenb down to Henley. Mrs. Talbot had seen her husband and the dead man sitting there in close con- fidential talk on a summer evening after dinner, while she and her sister strolled up and down the terrace, or stopped to feed the white, stately swans and their soft gray cygnets. She almost fancied she could hear the mellow sound of Robert Hatrell's laughter as she walked there now. What a joyous, frank, expansive nature 1 What happy life 1 wanting nothing that this world can give of comfort and delight; endowed with strength, intellect, good looks, fortune, perfect health, and a wife who adored him. Ana he had been stabbed to death in a shabby London lodging by an unknown hand. It was only a fortnight ago that Emily Talbot and her husband had been dining at River Lamm They had. gone down for a single night in the very finale of midsummer, just to smell the roses just for a few hours' respite from London gayeties and London emoke, as Clara had expressed it in her let- ter of invitation. There had been only the rector and Mr. Arden to meet them, the two men now in the drawing -room with the lawyer. They had been a most sociable party, full of talk, Hatrell expatiating upon his plans for the arrangement of the land which was so soon to be his, and in higher spirits tlaau usual. There had not. been a cloud on the hori- zon; and Mrs. Talbot, who loved Harley Street and her London pleasures, had for once in her life gone bank to town reluc- tantly, "It is curious that Robert and Clara can live like hermits in the height of the season," she told her husband. But really this morning, when we were leaving, I almost envied then) their quiet domestic life in that lovely place." , And now the bond that held two lives was broken, and joy was gone hke a dream when one awaketh. Mrs. Talbot was pacing slowly along the terrace, depressed by these thoughts, when a, shriek rang ont upon the summer air - such a cry ot agony as her ears had never heard until that hour. The sound came from the open window of her sister's bed- room, the ler/1 bow -window which was one of Robert strell's numerous improve- ments. She rushed into the house and ran upstairs, but, quick an she was, Ambrose Arden and the rector were there before her, and the former was in the ant of breaking open the door as she reached the landing. He had implored Mrs. Hatreil to open the door, and there had been no answer, $o he put his shoulder againat he paneling and wrenched the door off its hinges. Clara Hatrell Wag sitting on the floor in She middle of the room, with a heap of her hushand's letters -her levee's leetera, for they had all been written before marriage -scattered abeam her. She eat with her hands clasped upon her knees,her eyes fixed and staring into vacancy. Her disheveled hair fell about her shoulders in a wild con- fusion, as if her hands had been clutching and tearing at it. Emily Talbot knelt down by her and spoke to her, trying to soothe her, gathering up the tangled hair with gentle hands, pressing tenderest kisses upon her burning forehead ; but she took no notice; her eyes remained fixed in that sightless gaze, her fingers -were still locked together in the same convulsive grasp. She does not know me," cried Mrs, Talbot, horrified at that awful look, which made her sister's face like the face of a stranger. "Oh, God, she has gorse mealld * * * * 3 3 * -ea For more than aiX weeks after the funeral Clara Hatrell lived in the darkness of a distraught brain. More then once during that period ahe hovered on the brink of the grave, and there were dismal hours in which her doctor and her nurses lost all. hope. Life and reason were alike in perd, and there was many a night when Ambrose Arden sat in his study, trying to reed, but never able to leave off listening for the footfv.II that might being him fatal tidings. During this season of fear he rarely vvent to hie bedroom till the elm had risen above She long level meadows toward Heeley Bridge, end often the sunrise found hIrri walking in the lane between his cottage and River Lawn, It was the dreariest time of his life sinee the shorb, sharp agony Of his yourig Wife's illness. Re had nothing to distract hie mime from the one subject, whieh absorbed him. Hie little pupil had been carried off by her duet, and was at Weetgate-on-Sea with &bevy of eousins, all older than herself. His ;sonar vacation was being spent with the old grandfather. in Radnorshire. He had planned the emit. at the beginning of 1Wfre. TlatrelPs The leel'e eompeny would have been irkseree of him in this time of fear. He preferred to be alone while he famed the dread possibility •of a fatal lotto, No one could have helped hitt to bear his agony, the agony of fear for the life of the woman he had loved in pa- tient subjugation -m such perfect mastery of himself eenever to have aweatened sustain, • 1011 111 theme among whom he lived his every. day Wee -diver sutce he &fib looked upon her fair young fitoe. No one had ever guessed his seeret ; not the husband, whose fiery temper would have been gat* to kindle into flame, lied there been but the lightese coeuie for jealouey ; not the wife, whoa purity would have been quit& to take alarm at a word or aloolr ; not the friends, whoa lived ix; intintate gelatione with the family. NO one had suspected hint, Yes, one perhaps, had divined he secrete One pair of °leer, candid eyes had read his heart, Once, in a moment ot ex- pansion, hi a pupil and playfellow despoil her arms round his neck and murmured in his ear, "I love you, because you love mother," CHAPTER V. neess.'s maim s Mine TEARS AFTER. • Cyril says he thinks I could write a novel. I have read so many stories, BO int:eh poetry, and. I am each a fanciful creature. I hope that isn't another way of saying that I am eilly and affected. One never knows what a University man means. They seem to have a language of their own, made up of cynicism and contempt for other people. Cyril is such a curious young man ; he always seems to mean a great deal more than be says. At ane, rate, he has said ever so many times this summer that I ought to be able to write a novel. How I Wish I could I Hove delightful ie must be to invene people and make them alive '• to live in their lives and in their adventures ; to move all over the world in a beautiful day -dream, not dim and con- tused and blurred and blotted with ,a.bsturrli- ties, like the dreams of slumber, but clear and vivid with the light that never was on land or sea 1 I only wish Cyril were right; but, alas 1 he is wrong. I nave tried ever so many times.- I have begun ataxy after story, and have torn up my manuscript after the second or third chapter. My heroine NOM - ed so foolish and so feehle ; there was no life in her. She was like those dear dolls 1 loved so that vrould never sit up, not even against the wall, hut always flopped over ma one side or the other, as if bheir lovely waxen heads were too heavy for their awk. ward sawdust bodies. • She was every bit as limp. My hero was better, but I'm rather afraid. he was too much, like Roches- ter in "Jane 'Eyre," where be wa.sn't the very image of Guy Livingston. What men those were 1 Guy was nicer -he would have showu off best at a dinner -party or a be.11. Mr. Rochester cornea nearer One's heart. How I could have loved him after he went blind! Heppy Jane -to be so heroin and steadfast, to go out into the cold, bleak world and he nearly starved to death, and then to have her own true love after all. That was something like a destiny I No, Pm afraid I shall never write a novel. There is something wanting. In- vention, I suppose. But I am very fond of writing, so I have made up my mind to write my own life. My adventures would hardly fill a chapter -not if I began at my cradle. I never went to a hard and cruel school, like Jane Eyre. I never knew what it was to be hungry, except after a long walk ; and theu it was only a pleasant hun- ger tempered with the knowledge that five- o'dock tea and hot buns and brown bread and butter were waiting for me at home. No, 1 have no 'vicissitudes to write -about, but I can write about those I love, my impressions of people and scenery, and hooks and animals. ^ How big a volume I could fill mien one subject alone if I were to write about mother and all her goodness to me, and the happy years I have spent wall her for my chief companion 1 It seems only yes- terday that I was a child andshe used to play with me at all sorts of games, just as if she were anther little girl. 1 fancied she was enjoying herself just as much as I was. She would play at visiting, and din- ners even, than which I can nob imagine anythine more wearisome to a grown-up person. To pretend to eat a grand dinner off little wooden dishes, with planted food glued on to them -curious puce -colored Joints and poultrymmd pink -and -green tarts and puddings -and to make conversation and pretend to think everything nice, and to ask or a second help of a wooden leg of mutton. Row dreadfully bored she must have ben! but she endured it all like is martyr. We used to play battledoor anti shuttle- cock on the tennis lawn for hours at a stretch, She could run faster than I till a year or two ago. She says now that those bateledoor contests kept her young. Every one says how young and girlish she looks, more like my elder sister than my mother. Indeed, strangers generally take her to be my sister, How pretty she is ! pretty i$ too insigni- ficant a word. • She is beautiful. I know no one with such a lovely complexion - clear and pale, with a rosy flash that lights up her face suddenly when she is animated. Her large hazel eyes are the loveliest I ever saw; they have so much light in them; and her smile is like glimmer sunshine. • But I rnuet begin the story of my life in those days when I was just old enough to understand all that was going on round, about me and to be sorry when those I loved • wete sorry; and that will bring me only too -soon to the saddest pozvof my life -the -tme when my father was takeh from us. Let me tryr and recall him vividly in this book while I am still able to remember him exeetly as he was, so that when I am old, and memory grows dim, I may find his imege here, as one finds a rose in e. book, dry and dead, bat with ita beauty and color and velvet texture still remaining. What a eplendid.looking man he was I not like Gem' Livingston or like Edward Fairfax Rochester. There was nothing dark or rugged or repelsive aboat my dear father, oral indeed, although one's heart, alwaye goee out to a rugged, repulsive mat in the pages of a novel, 1 don't know whether one would take quite so kindly to Brian de Bois Gilbert, or even to Rochos- t8r iti real life. My efather WA,8 like Dave:It of a pleasant countenance'ruddy and fam.to gee. / can bring his face and figure before me like a vision, when 1abut my eyea in the „sanelyine , and fanoy bit walking eerosa the,10,00mleet me with the blue of the rivetabeleind Jilin, 9;1 need to slie him so often Mahe by days before liwent to Harley &rest, lie was tall and breadashmeldered, up- ighte with an easy vealk. He took long stops as he came kerma the greets, swinging his oak stir*, the stick he used in his long TI traitme to Reniey or Reading, or tterosie the fields and wotele o eome oeteiftlie•Way village. lie waa alrooatalweye eltt-of-elOoke in muomer-eloue or with mother, ofteueet Wt h mother-gvelkiug, &Mae, rowing, pleyieg tennis. .4e wee not too old for tennis, Yee, there io the bright, frank face and the mil. Ing Nue eyee-honest Englieh eyes, is pertrait, inthe library, euel the photogreph that hemp beside my hed may help to keep his fbaberea clearly in my memory, but it seems to me as if I never could, have for. gotten hint even if there had litien Ito pio. ture of him in existence. It iii hardly a qnestion a memory. airs Noe Linea in mn heart and oiled. He was fond of me. OPP a my earlioot r eoolieetions a ef lying at the end of a punt among a beep of aoft ouehions; while my father walked up and down whit the long) heavy punt pole, aud moved the great, olurnsy boat over bile bright blue- water, sometimes turning into a quiet backwater, where he would. moor his boob and sib and smoke his pipe in the sunshine, and talk to me in a slow, dreamy way between the naffs o toleaceo, or let me talk to him. Old how I need, to chatter in uty lifrtIe shrill voice 1 and w hat questious I used to ask him, question after queetion and how puzzled he used to look some - thrice; at my everlasting "why" and my everlasting "what 1" Why dui the suri shine ? or why did the •rigor meket the boat move? or what were the flowers made of? Dearest father, how " patient •he was with me ! He used to laugh off my ques- tions. He never explained things or taught rne the names of the flowers, like Uncle .A.mbrese. Our life together Wane perpetual holiday. He taught me how to fish for dace and mienows- out of the stern of the boat, and 1 was verp happy with him. 'It All seems like a dream of happiness now as I look back upon it, but it is as fresh in, my memory as the most,vivid dream front which one has only just awakened. Sometimes these happy mornings were Sunday mornings, when mother was at church. If Sunday happened to be a very warm day, father would begin to yawn at breakfast -time, and would eay he did not feeldnolinecl ter church, and that he would go on the water with Daisy ; and then I used to clap my hands and rush off to get my sun -bonnet, and before mother had time to make any objeotions we were off to the beat -house to get the pole and the cushions. When the church -belle began to ring from the old red•briok tower, we were glidiug ever so far up the river, on the may to our favorite backwater, where father used to sit and read his Sunday papers, while I worried the little, happy, dancing fish under the willows. Silvery, darting creatures, swift aslight How glad I am now that I caught so few few of them ! Yes, he was very good to me. He used to talk of days vuheu I should be grownup, and when he would take me to partiea aiad "Your mother and I are saving ourselves ug) for your first season, Daisy," he said; • that's why we are living like hermits." Yes, be was good, and I loved him dear- ; but perhaps I loved Ambrose Arden, almost as well, only in another way. I don't think any little girl of seven was ever so honored as to have a man of vast learning to teach her to read• and write, unless it was some little prineese in the +Jaye when a man like Eel:mime was not thought too good to be tutor to a dauphin. Uncle Ambrose taught me from the very beginning. It was his whim and fancy to do so. He is a man of such laboaious hab- its that he takes no account of trouble; and in all the years he has labored at my edu- cation I can ?ever remember one impatient word, or even one impatient movement, on his part. I have lost patience often, 1 the learner ; he, the teacher,'never. I can just remember. how I came to call him Uncle .e.mbrose. I need to call him Mr. Arden-Misser Arden, at least, for it was before I could, speak plainly., One day be told me not to call him mister; it was too formal between him and me. "Call me Ambrose," he said; and then mother looked up from her work and said that would never do. A little girl could not address a man of his years and learning by his Christian name. "I am not quite so elderly as I seem," he said, laughing; but if you think Ambrose too familiar, let it be an imaginary uncle, and let her call me Thiele Ambrose. Will that do ?" "Yes,' said mother, "that will do very well." So from that time forward he was Uncle Ambrose, and he is 'Uncle Ambrose to this city, just as kind and good and de- voted as he waa when I was a little girl with bare ernes, short petticoatmand a sun- bonnet. He still occupiee himself about my education, although he is a much more distinguished person than when he began the task. He has published three booke since then, books of the very highest liter- ary chartioter, which have made him a reputation among ohe learned and the re- fined in England and on the Continent. Reviewers have written ales at him in several languages ; his success has been un- disputed ; his name is quoted with Darwin and Spenset and Max Muller. In a word, he is a famous man. And yet he is content to go drudging on at the task of educating a frivolous girl like me. We are reading Duruy's "Ristoire des Grecs" together this summer, and with it we are reading Grote's " Plato " and a selection of the Dialogues, in Jovvett's magnificent translation. The little Greek that I know helps me to appreciate the beauty, and grace of blie English rendering. I should like to kiss the hand that wrote that noble book. How suddenly, lioaca'awfully that happy life with my father eaitne to an end 1 1 re- member that summer morning when he lef t us soon after brealefast to go to London and completedihe parehase of Mr. Elores- tan's land. We breakfasted in the garden, in an open tent on eho lawn, and we were all so happy. Father: talked of nothing but She land and the new, garden which was to be laid ouenu inediately. The ground heit all been laid out already on pape'r. The plane Were in the library on father's writingetable-dratrings of terraces aad balustrade, vasee and seethes lightly sketched in withthet beautiful touch whieh makesedmot ,any house ehatming before it is kin4 :Everybody had seen the plans, andhliad talleetleabout them, and argued and -ativised 1 and my dear father had talked them all down ' with his grand ideas of an Italian garden, Cade Ambrose quoted Lord Becou's Mosey on gardens. I re- membered the very worde a year ago when I began te read Bacon. They came baok to me like the memory of a dream. I was only a child, but I used to sit and listen to everything that was said, and think and wonder. Father kiresed Me at the gate 'before he got into the -cart that Wee to take hire to the station. Thank God for that kies 1 He • looked. batik at mother and me se he drove away. lie looked ' round es ua With his beautifel smile, and celled oat, gaily, I shall brikthe title deeds home for you to loek at" . Children Cry tor Pitcher's CaAtertk Ile bad reeked niothor to meet him tot the etattoia in the eveuieg, ha wee to drive herponies', end she wee to take ine with her if she liked, On tineee long munroer dap I steed to alt up till nine e'edock, anti I used to eft witit mottles: and father while they dined. My aunt Talbot probeeted emnetitnes againet what she ealled overin. dulgence, and said 1 wee being apoiled,anci ehould, grow up old-fashioned. 1 don'e know about the spoiling, but perhaps I have grown up old-fashioned. 1 geuld not have been neother'e companion in ell thokie happy years if I had not been fond of many things that my, COPSi11 don't care for, We went to the statioe, mother and I, in good time to meet the train that Was title at a, few Ininutee before eeven. We were there about a quarter of an hour before the train was duo; and we walked up and down the long, narrow pletform in the evening sunlight, talking about father and his enthusiasm about, the new garden. "It was my faacy, in the fiat in- state:se," said mother ; ' but your father ia so good to me that I have but to express a wish, and be immediately makes it his Own. If I were to ask for a roe's egg, like the Badroulbadour, I believe he would start of to Africa to look for one." I remember laughing at the idea of the egg, • " A roe's egg would be as big as all our house, naothen Wouldn'e it be funny if someone sent us one? There were very few people at the station, and we walked up and down and telkeel merrily as if we had been m our own gar- den. Preeently an electric bell began to ring, and then a porter came out and rang a bell on the platform in front of the little waiting -room, end then the train came slowly in, and mother and I stood looking at the faces in the carriage windows, There was seldom any delay in &diet( out father among the arrivals. Re was alwaye one of the first to open the door, and always en the alert to see us. But on this evening we looked for him hi vain, Three people got out got out of the train, and the train went on, and mother and1 were left standing on the platform, disappointed and unhappy. The Ilene train to stop at Lamford Was not due until ten minutes to nine -too late for dinner, too late for the sunset on the river -a long long time for us to wait. "I must drive you home, Daisy," said my mother, " and then I can come back to meet your father." I tried to persuade her to wait there and let me wait with laer-the idea of home and bed -time was distasteful to me. I could see that my mother was vexed and troubl- ed. I clung to her as she moved to leave thestaetion. „Ltus wait for father; I'm not tired, Pm not hungry. Do let us wait for him, and alt go home together." It was a lovely evening; the sun was still e bright ; the station -master's little warden was full of sweet-soented flowers-. roseeeclve carnatioas, and sweet pease. "There may be a telegram at home," said my mother. "Yes, I have no doubt he has sent a telegram." The idea seemed to decide her. She put me into the oarriage, and drove home as fast as the ponies could go. I was a little soared at the pace we travelled along the dusty roads and lanes; but we reached home safely, and then came a fresh disap. pointment. No telegram. d I was sent to bed at half past eight, and mother went back to the station. I couldn't sleep, but lay listening and waiting in the summer dusk in my room next mother's dressing room. I got my good nurse, Broomfield, to leave my door open, and I listened for the return of the carriage. When 1 beard the wheels I ran out upon tha lending in my nightgown, and stood at the top of the atairs listening, expecting to hear iny-father's voice direotly the door was opened, bat I only heard my mother speak- ing to the butler. "Your master has not come by the nine o'clock train, Simeon. There is no other train till after midnight, You will have to sit up for him, and to arrange a comfortable supper. He may not have found time to dine in -London. I ran downstairs in my nightgown, bare- footed, and tried to comfort poor mother, for I could tell by her voice that she was unhappy. She took me in her arms and cried over -me, and we went upstairs to- gether, she eteolding me a little for leavirt my bedroom, bnt not really angry. Iknew that she was hardly thinking aboub me. I knew that she was miserable about my father. That was only the beginning of .trou. bie. She was up all night, walking about her own nom or going downstairs ' and out into the garden, and to the gate, to listen for his coming. All night at inter- vals I heard her going np and down, and the opening and shutting ot the heavy hall door. The butler and on,e-of the maids sat up all night. Mother told Simeon she felt sure his master would come home, by road, in the middle of the night even, rather than leave her in suspense. Such a thing as his tweaking an appointment with her had never happeeed before. It was broad daylight when I cried my- self to sleep -so unhappy for mother's sake, so frightened, without knovelua why, about my father. Mother left the house early next morning to go to London with Ambrose Arden. She did not come back fdr three days, and then my auut Emily came with her, and mother Was so altered that I hardly knew her. She was dressed in black, and her pale face had a stony look that made me tremble, She *mealy spoke to me or noticed me, but my aunt took inc on her lap, and told me that a great sorrow had come upon me. My father was dead. I would not believe it for ever so long. I had heard of people dying, but they were old people who had been 111 a, long time, or weak little children, and even they had been ill for a geed many days and nights before the end came. But my father was well and strong and heppy when he sat in the cart waving us goodbye with his whip. 1Vly aunt saw that I did. not believe or did riot understand her; and she told me slowly how my father had died suddenly in London when he was on his way to a lawyer's office to buy IVIr. EIoresban's land. He was dead within a few hours after he drove away from our gate. I had no father now. Nothing could ever give him back to me upon this earbh, If I were to spend ell my life in prayerm never to rise up off my knees vehile I lived, my prayers wouid not give him beak to me for five mioutets, would oot gain me so maeh as the sound, of his dear voice calling me from the 'twin My aunt took me to London with her that af ternoon, and 1 thinle what I felt meet in the midat of my sorrow was the thoughb that mother did not Mind parting with me. She hardly looked; she put away my arms from her wick tiniest °energy When I oiling to her crying, and entreating her to let me stay With her. Rer eyes looked over my head when he said goodbye to inc at the door, ins if she saw something a long way off, some hortibld thing that froze her blood and made her due*. t110 228 neteelleUtira) for Inf nte; and Children. '"‘Cateitetittift so wellsdaptedto children tliet 1 recommend it: me superior to any preheription !mown to me," I, 4.. Anemia, 11,3)., 111 So. Oxford St., Breokten, la. "The use of '0astmea' is so universal and its merits so well known that it seems e. work of supererogation. to endorse it. Few arethe intelligent families who do hot keep Castor* within easy reach." CAuLos Mansur*: D. D., New Yetis City. Late Pastor Bloomingdale Iteformed Church. myjuswserrinv:tt4;t87.t0:0:11400173:3:14,,:aiDuoC :it 3,10 szarri ilites I: IC oda nisei • itog di "rod seeeracyrT—ars 1-haveNreewcomIrontr endodk your °tweaks; end shall always coeeinue 50 do so as it has invariably »reduced beneficial "The 'Winthrop," 4;;Otb. Street and IthAye., tty Tan CEMPATIV. COUPANY, 77 linuMAY STragam, New Tom ..471A.444. tiZ4T•1.1S4I,3:YS*0 entlere es. s. eialigillisaaadt'detat'el-Sere W(l'rttrbtt.._ewe. if allowed to run, will destroy the lming to - Throat and Lungs, weaken the system and invite the Consumption Germ. SC tt9S En111151011 imansweanimmasEezr Azzumumnars, of Cod-liver Oil, with hypophosphites of lime and soda, builds up the system, overcomes Chronic Coughs and Colds, and strengthens the Lungs. Physicians, the world over, endorse it. SCOTT'S EMULSION Is the most nourishing food known to science. It is Cod-liver Oil rendered palatable and easy to assimilate. Prepared by Soon & Berme, Belleville. All Druggists, 60 cents and $1. ';`....etattata ehandrafetl*Ifee‘ .10 -Ard-Wdr heitaideM 44, NERVOUS, DESPONDENT, DISEASED MEN. T. E. GLEASON. T. E. GLEASON, 00. ROLLINS. 0.0. ROLLINS. re; r 11116 - k °;;1‘ • -1 • EP Before Treatment, After Treatmeet. • Before Treatment. .After Treatment. Emissions, Varlcocele, Seminal Weakness, Self -Abuse, Synhillse Gieet Stricture, Unnatural Discharges, Loss of Vital Fluid in Impotency, Sexual and Mental Weakness, Kidney and Blander Diseases Positively CURED OR NO PAY. 10 Years in Detroit.. 200,000 Cured. Young or Middle Yon have led a gay life or indalged in the vices of early youth. Fon feel Aged Man. the symptoms stealiug over you. Self abuse or later exces,see neve broken down your system. lifentotly, pleyetearly cold sexually you arellOt the man Tau met( to bis ot should be. Lustful practices reap rich. harvest. Think of the future. Will you heed the danger signals? Aro you. nervOne and weak; despondent and gloomy; specks before eyes; backweak enclaidneys irritable; palpitation. of heart; dreams and losses at night; ectas ment nrine; weakened manhood; pimples on face; eyes sunken and cheeks hollow: poor meanory; carevrorn expressionaVaricocele; tiled in morxiing; lifeless; distrustful; lack en- ergy strength and ambition. Our New Method Treatment will positively cure sem 15 will make a man 02 1011 =dine will opea anew. lia guarantee to carayou or refund all money pa V. l-tuo names used without written consent. 61,000 paid for any case we take anti caanot CUM. SNATCHED FROM! THE CRAVE -A Warning From the Living. Emissions "At 15 I learned a bad habit. Had IOSSOE1 fOl• seven years. Tried four doetors Cured. and nerve tonics by the score, without benefit; I became, nervone 'Meelc 5. friend who had been cared by Drs, Kennedy as Eagan of a eimilar disease, advised me to try them. 1 did so., and itt two inontlus was positively enrecl. This was eight years ago. I aa now married earl have two healthy children." 0 Varicocele "Variciocele, the restdt of early vice, made lifen;Wise;LEWIS,abe. fteleagiw".ealawr Cured. 'mous, eyes sunken,,bashfal in society, hair thin, dreams and tones at night. no ambition. The "Golden Monitor" opened my eyes. • The Now Method Treatment of Drs. Kennedy &Horgan cumin:10 in a few weeks." II LL Syphilis "I'his terrible blood disease was in my eystem foreig:liPtBElarr. °N'iadwIar'Mich.tailennir Cured. miry for two years, brit the disease returned. Eye e red, pimples end blotches on the skim, ulcers in the month and ontongue, hone pains, fainter out of ham weekness, etc. Ily brother, who had been cured of Meet and arteture by lers. ICannedF & liciaaara tetoras mended them. They mired me in a. few weeks, and I thank God 1 consulted them. No return of the disease in six years." W. P. IL, Jackson, each. A Minister The Bev. 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 caa heartily en - 'dome their Nem itfethod Treatment which cared then: when all else failed." A Doctor "I know nothing in medical science so efficient for the cure of Soltilit rind Recommends Seedier Div:trees as tha Esw Method 7Yeattn,gt of Des. Koneedy &Kergan. elan, It. cases which had baffled scores of physicians were cared in 0 few weeks. I have seen this with my own oyes and know it to be it fact." Dein ri9.n. I. Have you been minty? gee your Blood been diseased? 1,.reytn"lB weak? M.D. Dyou It pa ui desire to be a 2111,1? Are yon contemplating marriage? Oar .N.eto Atethod Treat- ent willpositively cure you, cures Guaranteed or No Pay. Consultation Fr; e. Non:atter who has treated you write for an honest opiniontree of charge. Charges rearsonable. Books Free. -"The Golden Monitor" (illustrated). on Diseases of Mon, En- close postage, two cents. Sealed. agrNo Names used without Written Consent. Private. No Medicine Sent C. 0. B. No Names on Boxes or Envelopes. Everything Confidential. Question List for Rome Treatment and Cost of Treatment, Free. Drs. Kennedy 86 Kergan5 148 Shelby Street, D9irell,14101). feerniaWa legaeget eireeaece'VnelGV'" MYSTERIOUS SHOOTING AFFAIR. • --, A Tenon to Shooting- ee Mehl e f fletead ed • in Mystery. A despatch from. Toronto says e-pn Saturday night 18-year•old Frank B. Westwood was ehot dowu by an unknown Man on the ateps of hie father's regidenee an Jameson avenue, Shortly before 11 o'clook the young hien want to answer the door hell. On opening the door a revolver was pregented an him without warning and diseharged. Westwood felt backwards into the doorway. A 44ma1ihre bullet) ho,a entered his body sonic distance below the nipple of his righb breast, The aseallant made good his escape. The whole affair is shrouded in mystery. Neither the vvoued. ea hoy uov his reletives could think of any Motive for the crime. At o late hour Sunday night Westwood lay at the paint of death. Westwootre home, which is at the corner of JemeSoo avenue, it ono of the finest in Perkdale. It stands a hushed yindri back from the street; and is fronted by a etroth of betentafaI greensward Ned Sheds trees, and approached by e well kept semieeiroular carriage drive, with latticed footwalka Contract Rates. &Mira Saunders-" How remelt fee' a hair 010 and shave 1»' Barber*" Fifty cents an hour.°' The ratepayers of Berlie Ont., voted an by-lew on Friday to eettelaish 8. neW piib Ito park. The bylaw wit. carried by a majority of tvvo hundred and Sa*en1r61a.