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Exeter Times, 1896-8-20, Page 6aerePrseee THE EXETER TIMES MOST SUCCESSFUL REMEDY FORMAN OR BEAS . Certain in its effects and never deters. Readproofe pelow: KENDALL'S SPAWN CURE ■ Box 52,Carman. Henderson Co, 111., Feb.24, '04. Dr. B. J. b..e.n_ rSELCo. ,Dear Sirs -nesse send me one of your Horse Books and oblige. Ibaveused agreat deal of your Iiendeil's Spavin Cure with good success • it is a wonderful medicine. I once had a mare that had pleondallteiscured her. Iksbbottnhandhtme Yours truly, CEO. POWELL. KENDALL'S SPAY1N CURE, Dr. B J. AE■nt3.L CO. CAATON, Aro., Apr: 3, 32. Dear Siro--I have used several bottles of your "'SeedairaSpavin Cure" with much success. I think it the best Liniment I ever used. Hare re. snared one Curb, one Blood Spavin and Intted two Bane Spavins. Have recommended it to several of my friends who are ranch pleased with andkeepit. Respecciulin S. P.. RAZ P. O. Box HS. For Sale by Druggists, or address ell rags � J" E1M ,L O tries.ZYae ENO3UURGH FALLS, VT, LEGAL. H. DIOESON, Barrister, Boli- • cater of Supreme Court, Notary Public. Conveyancer, Commissioner, Jo Money Goan. Omcein anson'8Blook. Deem, iiep9±1. OOLLIN'S, Barrister, Solicitor, Conveyancer, Etc. BEETER, . ONT. OFFICE : Over O'Nei.l's ELLIOT ELLIOT, T ee .L.,t Barristers, Solicitors, Notaries Public, Conveyancers &c, &c. tele"Money to Loan At. Lowest Rates of Interest. OFFICE, - MAIN- STREET. EXETER. Uensall every Thursday. IL, V,'=mrar. FREDERICK rtraOT. a,.alIsa MEDICAI4 T W. BROWNING AI. D., 31.. 0 PS • P. 8 tireduate Victoria I7nive". ty dace and residence. Dom.nion Lana a tory. Exeter. )B. R.YNDIIAN, coroner for Cie County of Huron. Offioo, opp,eite Carling Bros. store, Exeter. J) ItS. ROLLIN3 & A,MOS. Soparato Olfcoa. Residence same as former. !_y, Andrew et. Emspark man's Spacnan',t bunging.ISlain et; Dr Rollins' same au formerly, north door: Dr. Amoss • s:Lnte buihiing, south door, J, A. ROLL,INS, .AI. D.. T. A. AMOS. 3I. D Exeter. Ont AUCTIONEERS. 1 BOSSE1NBERI'�Y, General Li- { • sensed Auctioneer Bales cenpiucted it 44:iis. 8atiafeetiouguarantesd. °harass necierate, ReneallP 0, Out; EN [ Y EILBER Licensed Auc- tioneer for the Counties of Huron end Afioctlesex : sales oonduotod at mod- erate rates. Odle.. at Fost-ol3oe °red. Ion Ont. VETERINARY. Tennent & Tennent w:xu'TER, Derr. Entine tesofthe Ontario Veterinary Cat ere. O3aren : One Beer South of Town Hall . �HE WATERLOO MUTUAL FIRE INS LIRAN CECO. Established in L863. HEAD OFFICE - WATERLOO, ONT. This Company lias been over Twenty -nigh Tears in successful operation in Western Ontario, and continues to insureagainst loss or damage by Fire. Buildings, Merchandise Manufactories and all other descriptions of insurable property. Intending insurers have the option of Insuringon the Preminm2iotoor Cash System. During the_past ten years this company has Sssued57,0961Polioies, covering property to the amount of $40,872;)38; and paid in losses alone $709,762.00. Assets, 0.81:6,100,00, consisting of Cash in Bank Government Depositand the unasses- ted Premium Notes on hand and in force J.M1 -WALDEN, M.D.. President; 0 2.1. TAsLoa Secretary ; J. 13. Birettas, Inspectdr . C11A3 Ie ELI. Agent for Exeter and vicinity NERVE, NERVE BEANS are a new ..re- covery that cure the worst eases of Nervous Debility Lost Vigor and EEA NS Failing Manhood; restores the weakness of body or mind caused by overwork, or the errors or ex - ceases of youth. This Remedy ab- solutely cures the most obstinate cases when all other TRnAx eEnTs have failed even to relieve. old bydmg, gists at 31 per package, or six for $5 or sent by mail oa eceipt of price by addressing THE JAMES MEDICI:IT '0.. Toronto. Ont. Write for r,amn:dct. Frio in— Sold at Browning's Drug Store Exeter, THE EXETER TIMES Is published every Thursday morning at Times Steam Printing Rouse Main street, nearly opposite FItton's jewelry store, Exeter, Ont., by JOHN WHITE & SONS, Proprietors. RATES OF ADVERTISING: First insertion, per line 10 cents. Each subsequent insertion, per line 3 cents. To insure insertion. advertisements should be sent in not later than Wednesday morning. Our JOB PRINTING DEPARTMENT is one of the largest and best equipped in the County of Huron. Ail work entrusted to us will re- ceive our prompt attention. Decisions Regarding Newspapers. 1—Any person who takes a paper regularly from thepost office, whether directed in Ms name or another's, or whether he has sub- scribed or not, is responsible for payment. 2-1C aperso's orders his paper discontinued ho must pay al arrears or the publisher may continue to send it until the payment is made, and then collect the whole amount, whether the paper is taken from the office or not. 3—.En suits for subscriptions, the snit may be instituted in the place •r. here the paper is pub- lished, altb.c.iu h the subscriber may reside hundreds of at;leg away. 4—The courts have decided that refusing to ?site newspapers or perioaicals'ftoln the post office, or removing and leaving them tines -lied for, is prima facie evidence of intentional trend, AFTER MANY DAYS. imam CHAPTER XXL—(Continued). "She is dear to me," answered Mrs. Walsingham, vehemently. "I have grown to love her. She is all I have in the world to love. She reminds me of one who once loved. me. Why do you prate to me of Mrs. Sinclair's lone- liness? She can not be lonelier than I am. What is there but emptiness in my heard—yet I do not complain of abroken heart. 1 do not abandon myself to madness or imbecility. I bear my burden. Let her bear hers. Give you that child, Indeed! That Is asking too much." "Pardon me, Mrs, Walsingham; I thought I was talking to a woman with a noble nature, whose higher in- stincts only needed to be appealed to." "Itis so long since people have left off appealing, to my higher instincts that they have somewhat lost their use. Do you think. Sir Cyprian Dav- enant, that I have cause to love or pity or sacrifice myself for Constance Sinclair? You should know better than that, unless you have lived all these years in this world without know- ing what kind of clay your fellow men and women are made of. I have the strongest reason to detest Mrs. Sin- clair, and I do detest her frankly. She has done me no wrong, you will say. Sae has done me the greatest wrong— robbed me of the maxi I love, of wealth, status, name, and place in the world. Do you think it matters to me that she was unconscious of that wrong? She has done it, and I hate her for it, and shall so hate her till my dying day." "Your hatred will not reach her in the grave or follow her beyond it, an- swered Sir Cyprian. "Your our pity might save her life." "Find some hospital brat to palm up- on this distracted mother—some baby - farmer's protegee." 'I will find some respectablyo Urn child, be sure, Mrs. Waleingham, It was only a fancy, perhaps, which led me to propose taking your little kins- woman. I counted too much upon the generosity of a disappointed rival." And with this home -thrust, Sir Cyp- rian bowed and walked away, leaving the lady to her own reflections. A woman of this kind, a being sway- ed by passion, is often a mass of in- consistency and contradiction, now hot, now cold. At a late hour that even- ing Sir Cyprian received a letter, de- livered by a man -servant. It was from Mrs. 1'4 alsingham. "1 am the most wretched of women' —she wrote—"utterly weary of life. Mrs. Sinclair may have the child. She would grow up a wretch if she grew up under my influence, for every da.y makes me more miserable and more bit- ter. What shall I be as an old. wo- man? Send some trustworthy person to fetch the little girl to -morrow. I give her up to you entirely, but upon condition that Mrs. Sinclair shall never know to whom she owes her adopted child. May the adoption prospers But as t hear that Mr. Sinclair is in a fair way to ruin, I do not think you are giving my young kinswoman a very brilliant start in life. Be this as it may, I wash my hands of her. She has not brought me happiness; and perhaps if I were to let her wind herself round my heart, it might prove by and by that I had taught a serpent to coil there. I have not too good an opinion of her blood, "Yours truly, "Clara Walsingham. "Half -Moon Street, Wednesday Night." CHAPTER XXII. Mr. Sinclair was told by Lord Clanyarde of the plan which had been devised by the German physician for his daughter's cure, and, after a lengthy discussion, gave his sullen consent to the imposture. t don't like your German doctor —a thorough -paced charlatan, I'll war- rant," he said; "and I don't like palm- ing off an imposter upon my poor wife. But if you see any chance of good from this experiment, let it be tried. God knows 1 would give my heart's blood to -morrow to bring Constance back to health and reason." This was said with an nnmigtakable earnestness, and Lord Clanyarde be- lieved it. He did not know what bit- ter reason Gilbert Sinclair had for de- siring his wife's recovery in the guilty consciousness that his brutality was the chief cause of her illness. "You are not going to bring some low -born brat into my house, I hope?" said. Gilbert, with the pride of a man whose grandfather had worked in the mines, and whose father had died worth a. million. "No; we shall find a gentleman's child—some orphan of about Christa- bel's age—to adopt." Gilbert shrugged his shoulders and said no more. That visit of the German physician had certainly wrought a change in Constance Sinclair's condition, and Dr. Webb declared that the change was for the better. She seemed to have awak- ened from that dull apathy, that utter inertness of mind and body, which both the London physician and the faithful country watch -dog had taken to be the precursor of death. She was restless —fluttered by some expectation which kept her senses curiously on the alert —wistful, watchful, listening—starting at every opening of a door, at every coming footfall. On the morning after Dr. Holien- dorf's visit she asked for her Bible, and began to read David's psalms of thanks- giving and rejoicing aloud, like one who gave thanks for a great joy. Later In the same day she went to the piano and sung—sung .as she bad never done since the beginning of her illness—sung Like one who .pours forth the gladness of her heartin melody. When. Dr. Webb came that afternoon, be found his patient sitting in an arm- chair by the window, propped up with pillows, much to the disgust of Melanie Duport, who was on duty at this time.. I know she isn't strong enough to sit up," said Melanie, to the doctor, "but she would do it. She seems to be watching for something or some one." The long window, opening upon the balcony, commanded a distant curve of the drive leading up to the house, and. it was on :this point that Constanee Sinclair's eyes were fixed. "What are you waiting for, dear lady?" asked Dr. Webb, in his 'bland voice, that caressing tone in which mad - [cal men address feminine and infantine patients. In Dr. Iii ebb's case, the blandness meant more than it usually does, for he really loved his patient. "1 am watching for my child. They will bring her to -day, perhaps. The strange doctor told me she was not drowned. It was true, wasn't it? He wouldn't deceive me. There was some- thing in his voice that made me trust him—somethingthat went tomyheart. My darling was saved, and she is com- ing back to me. You won't deceive me, I know. She is coming—soon—soon— soon. omingsoon--soon—soon. Dear, dearest Doctor Webb, is it true?" "Dear Mrs. Sinclair, you must not xr a ltateYours if in this way," cried the doctor, flattered by this address. "Yes, yes, Lord Clanyarde is going to bring you the little girl, and you'll be very fond of her I hope, and feel quite hap- py, again." "happy!" Dried Constance; "I shall be in heaven, Ask papa to bring her soon." She was restless throughout that day —sleepless all night, Sometimes her mind wandered, but at other times she spoke clearly and reasonably of God's goodness to her in saving her child. O t fel w n he al ow - .se. idea da the me still paramount, but elle was somewhat weakened by her excitement and rest- lessness, and was no longer able to sit up at her post of observation by the window. As the day wore on the old dull apathy seemed to be creeping over her again. She lay on her equalsby the fire, silent, exhausted, noticing no- thing that occurred around liter; her pulse was alarmingly weak, her eyes vacant and heavy. "If they don't bring the and soon, It will be too late for the experiment." thought Dr. Webb; "and. i1 they do bring it, the excitement may be fatal. God guide us aright!" It was dusk when Lord Clanyarde's brougham drove up to the porch, and his lordship alighted, carrying a child muffled up in soft woolen shawls, and fast asleep.Gilbert sad not yet returned from hi daily ride, The house was dark and empty. Lord Clanyarde went straight to his daughter's room, where Dr. Webb was sitting, too anxious to leave his patient till the crisis which the intended ex- periment might produce had passed Dr.Webb safely. Wparticu- larly was not par ou- larly hopeful about the strange doc- tor's plan. "Such good news, my darling," said Lord Clanyarde, with elaborate cheer- fulness; "pray don't agitate yourself. my clear Constance." rhe started up from her sofa already, and tottered toward bine with out- stretched arms. "1 have brought you your baby. The little pet was not drowned, after all, and some good people in Germany took care of her. 1.ou. will find her chang- ed, of course—three or four months makes such a difference in a baby." Constance neither heeded nor heard. She was sitting on the floor with the newly awakened child in her lap, hug- ging it to her breast, weeping sweet- est tears over the soft, curly head, breathing forth her rapture in low, in- articulate exclamations. The fire -light shone on the picture of mother and child clinging together thus—the little one submitting uncomplainingly to these vehement caresses. "Thank God!" ejaculated Lord Clan- yarde within himself. "She doesn't ask a question, poor child. She hasn't the faintest suspicion that we're deceiving her." He had chosen this hour for the in., troduction of the infant imposter so that Constance's first scrutiny of the baby features should take place in a doubtful light. If first impressions were but favorable, doubts would hard- ly. arise afterward in that enfeebled mind. Only when reason was fully re- stored would Constance begin to ask awkward questions. This evening she did not even scru- tinize the baby face; she only covered it with tears and kisses, and laid it against her bosom and was happy. She accepted this baby stranger at once as her lost Christabel. Dr. Webb was delighted. Those tears. those caresses, those gushes of happy love—what medicines could work such cure for a. mind astray? ! "Upon my word I believe you have !done the right thing, and that your German doctor is not such a quack as I thought him," whispered the little man to Lord Clanyarde. He had still better reason to say this three or four hours later, when. !Constance was sleeping tranquilly—a sound and healthy slumber such as she had not known for many weary weeks —with the baby nestling at her side. Mr. Sinclair heard of the success that had attended the experiment, and seemed glad, or as glad as a man could be who had pressing cause for trouble. CHAPTER XXIII. If Fortune in a general way is a capricious and uncertain divinity, as- suredly that particular goddess who presides over the affairs of racing men is most given to tricks and starts, to sudden frowns and unexpected smiles. Gilbert Sinclair's new stables had, up to the beginning of this present year, brought him nothing but ill luck. So unvarying had been his reverses that his trainer and grooms gave full scope to their superstition, and opined that the stables were unlucky, and that no good would aver come out of them. "There had been a murder committed, may be, somewheres about," suggested one man, "or the ground had been wrongfully come by; who could tell?" With the Craven meeting, however, the tide turned, and the Sinclair sta- bles scored three palpable hits. But this was not all. Na. Sinclair had bought a colt at York two years be- fore, with all his faults and all his en- gagements—the engagements being par- ticularly heavy, and the faults includ- ing one which the veterinary authori- ties believed might be fatal to the ani- mal's career as a racer. The colt was of renewed lineage on both sides, and had a genealogy that went back to his great-grandsire and bristled with famous names—a colt in whose future some magnate of the turf would doub- less have speculated two or three thou- sand, but for that unlucky splinter. Gilbert Sinclair bought the colt for two hundred and fifty, under the ad- vice of bis trainer, a shrewd York- shire man, who loved a bargain bet- ter than the best purchase made in the regular way. He's got the Touchstone and the Specter blood in him," said Mr. Jack- son, the trainer. "Fee's bound to come out a flyer if we can cure that off. fore -leg." Bat sosn't,' Jackson," said Gilberuppt, doubtfully.e wedo"Two hun- dred and fifty's a lot of money fora lame horse, and bis engagements will come to a, good bit more. ' "You may as well lose your, money on him as on any thing else, mayn't you?" argued Mr. Jackson, who had no exalted opinion of his employer's judg- ment, and did not trouble himself to' pretend a greater respect than he felt. The best of men is but small in the eyes of his trainer. "You let me have that there colt to Huss, and say no more about it. It'll be a fad for me. I ought to have my fanny sometimes. Yau have yours, and a fat lot comes of it." Thus urged, Gilbert bought the colt, and John �`J•ackson• took him Linder his wing, and made him his pet and darling, shutting him up in impenetrable loose boxes, and exercising him secretly in the morning gray in sequestered pad- docks far from the eyes of touts. Mr. Jackson had children—children who climbed his knees and called him father. in childhood's lisping s • llables h is n a but there was a pride inJohnJackson's eye, and a tenderness in his voice when he spoke of Goblin, the bay colt, whieh guts children had never been able to evoke. "I want to win the Derby before I die," he said,with a touch of senti- ment, like Mses sighing for the land of Canaan. "It isn't much to ask for, after having done my day by a bless- ed lots of screws." Nobody—now even Mr. Sinclair him- self=could ever penetrate the veil of mystery with which Jackson surround- ed his favorite. Whether Goblin was doing welt was a secret which Jackson kept locked between his own breast. When Jackson looked gloomy, the un- derlings of the stable concluded that Goblin was "off his feed," or that Gob- lin " �"upto ou t. lin wash When it ame to the contest of a trial, Dir. Jackson shrunk from the contest, and when compelled to run his protegee against the best horse in the stable, secretly weighted Goblin in such a manner as to insure his being ignominiously beaten, Goblin kept none of bis two-year-old engagements, though Mr. Jackson went so far as to admit by this time that the colt was no more lame than he was, "But I ain't going to let :him fritter away leis strength in two-year- old rices," said 112r. Jackson, decisively; '] ain't forgotten Bennie Dundee," Gilbert Sinclair submitted unwilling- ly, being at this time very low down in his luck as a racing man, and anx- ious for any success which might in some wise redeem his position. i Now cams spring—violets . and prim- roses; woodlads hite with chestnut bloom, and hhearthc.rn ; nightingales warbling their vesper Tuve songs, and -- much more important to gentlemen of Mr. Sinclair's class—the Two Thousand Guineas. And. now Goblin came for- ward to perform bis first important aand engagement three-year-old, -old n g ge ant as a three e. r , Gilbert Sinclair w•as richly rewarded for his patience. Goblin—a horse entirely unknown to the racing public—came in an easy win- ner, and Gilbert, who had taken his trainer's advice, and had backed his horse to the utmost capacity, won a small fortune, as well as feeling pretty sure about his expectations for the Derby. It was the first great success Gilbert Sinclair had ever had upon the turf, and he left Newmarket that night al- most light-headed with excitement. Th[ngs had been going much better with him since January, The men had gone back to their work in the grimy north. Indian steamers were using Mr. Sinclair's coal as fast as Ile could produce ie. The golden tide was flowing in his exchequer again, and his banker's book no longer presented a dismal blank upon its left-hand pages. The success at Newmarket was the crowning mercy. He felt himself a rich mau once more, and laughed to scorn the notion of surrendering Dave- nant at Midsummer. Wyatt had bought and paid for the estate, but of course would be glad to sell it again at a profit. The scheme of Constance Sinclair's restoration had prospered wonderfully. Health and strength had returned, and with these the clear light of rea- son. She had never doubted the iden- tity of the little girl Lord Clanyarde brought her that evening with the child she had lost. . She had readily accepted the story— a somewhat lame one—of the child's rescue by some kind of German peas- ants who had brought it over to Eng- land, where by a. curious chain of cir- cumstances, Lord Clanyarde had come to know of its existence. The little girl was known to the whole household as Mr. and Mrs. Sinclair's only child. There would be time enough by and by to reveal the imposture. Even Mar- tha Briggs—little Christabel's devoted nurse—had never suspected the trick that had been played upon her mistress. The only member of the ehousehold that had shown any particular curiosity or desire to and outs of this know the inns n business was Melanie Duport. That young woman had asked as many ques- tions as she could venture to put, and had appeared somewhat mystified by the course of events. So there bad been peace at Davenant during the early spring. Constance had been quietly happy in the little girl's society, and in those joys which the convalescent feels when a world has been darkened to the wandering mind reappears in all its light and beauty. Never had the woods and fields, the blue April sky and shining river, seem- ed so lovely }n the eyes of Constance Sinclair as they appeared this year. Her love of music, of art, of ail bright things seemed intensified by that aw- ful season of darkness, in which these delights had been blotted from her mind.. i Her husband was tolerably kind to her, bet spent much of his time away from Davenant, and did not trouble her repose by filling the house with his rackety companions. Mr. Wyatt came now and then for a day or two, but he was the only guest during this tranquil spring -time. Thus stood matters early in May, when Goblin won the Two Thousand Guineas, and in the trainer's phraseol- logy, brought his owner a pot of money. Gilbert went up to London an hour after the race with his pot of money, or, at any rate, some portion of it, in his pocket. The rest would be paid up at Tattersall's in due course. He had eaten nothing that day, having been too anxious about the result of the race to eat any breakfast, and too much elated by his triumph to eat any dinner. He had therefore been COM - pelted to sustain nature upon brandy. and soda, which is not exactly a seda- tive for a man of hot temper. He talked about Goblin and his his own cleverness in getting hold of Goblin all the way up to London; and arrived at Shoreditob with his pulse galloping and his blood at fever heat. ?I'm not 'going to let that beggar have Davenant :.now," he said• to him- self, "This race brings me something like twenty thou', and I shall pot as much more over the Derby." He called a hansom, and told the man to drive to Bloomsbury Square, intending to honor Mr. Wyatt, otherwise "that beggar," with : a call. The cab, r. attled • through the grimy city streets, all shining in the setting sun, which was "fading redly on the westward facing windows of the grave old square when Gilbert alighted at Mr. Wyatt's door. It was a fine old house . which the solicitor occupied' one of the oldest and largest in the square, and there had been no attempt to disfigure a house in which Steel and his compan- ions may have hobnobbed over the mid- night bottle with such modern improve- ments as. stucco without and gas with- in. A respectable -looking man -servant out of livery, admitted Mr. Sinclair into a square hall, oak -paneled and paved with black and white marble. The doors were oak, deeply set in the solid old walls, the arobitraves hand- some enough for a modern palace, An old-fashioned oil lamp had just been lighted, and shed et sickly yellow light on some of the panels, while others reflected the crimson glow in the west, as if tl they had been splashed1as e with blood. "Your master athome?" asked Gil- bert. "Yes, sir. He has just dined. Shall I show you into the dining -room?" -'Yes ; and you can bring rue some- thinhousg0. to eat Staples," replied Gilbert, who was quite at amine in his solicitor's Ito went into the dining -room with- out giving the man time to -announce him. James Wyatt sat in a lounging at- titude facing the western sun, with a claret jug and an untouched dessert before him on the small oval table. That snug oval table of pollard oak had superseded the ponderous old mahogany twenty-two feet by six, at which Mr. Wyatt's father and grandfather lead been wont to entertain their friends. James Wyatt wanted no twenty -two - foot table, for he never gave large parties. Cozy taa tets, or even con- fidential fidential tete-a-tete banquets, were more to bis liking, and he gave as ela- borate and careful a dinner to a inan who dined with him alone as other men provide for a gathering that includes all the magnates of their circle. Were pollard oak gifted with speech, that snug oval board could have told many a thrilling tale of thirtyer cent. which had been made, in the initiative stage, to seem only seven; of clients in the city who had money to lend, and were so ?rood -natured about lending it, on a safemortgage or oth- erwise; and of that awful hour in which the seine good, easy-going clients as- sumed quite another character, and were determined to foreclose, or to get their money back by any means. But happily for the maintenance of the de- cencies Mr. Wyatt's table was not lo- quacious, and the grave old room, with a few fine pictures on the oak paneling and some valuable bronzes on the tall chimney -piece looked respectable enough to inspire confidence in the most sus- picious mind. If the pictures had been daubs, or the furniture gaudy, the ef- fect would have beendifferent. But the pictures looked like heir -looms and the furniture told of a chastened taste and a refinement that implied virtue and honor in the possessor thereof. (To Be Continued.) VERY SAD AFFAIR, A. Ilusbaud of Only Four Hours Dies Suddenly. A despatch from Stapleton, Staten Is- land, says:—There was a death from the heat at the Villa Mena, in Rose - bank, S.I., early on 'Tuesday ritorning, which has some very sad features sur- rounding it. The victim was a hus- band of only four hours, and his young bride is now prostrated and in a seri- ous condition. Jos. G. Plank, 39 years of 'age, a bank clerk, was the victim, Monday evening, at 8 o'clock, he was married to Miss Annie Bonder of !Brooklyn. After the ceremony the young couple received the congratula- tions of their friends, and then all re- paired to the dining -room, where a wedding dinner was prepared. While • the second course was being served it was noticed that the newly -made hus- band was looking faint. Getting up from the table, he staggered, and was taken to his room upstairs. Dr. Jos- eph Thompson, of C1ift'Bn, was summon- ed, and when he arrived Plank was un- conscious. By this time everything was excitement. The guests all got up from the table, and while the men went to assist Plank, the women took hold of the young bride and tried to quiet h er. She was screaming in a hysteri- cal ysterical manners, and many of the guests were weeping. Dr. Thompson did all in his power to revive the man, but he was unsuccessful, and Plank died at 1 o'clock Tuesday morning. Many of the guests remained with Mrs. Plank, and when she learned that her husband had died she was inconsolable. Many thought she would lose her senses. Her condition ' that she cannot L9 so serious see anyone. It is possible that the guests who attended the wedding will all be present at the funeral as mourn- ers. A MODEL CITY. To Be Called Victoria Town la Honour of Her Majesty's Long Reign. A despatch from London says :—The big gooseberry season in England al- ways brings to ,the front a hot discus- sion upon some subject that it pleases the Daily Telegraph to start. This year the subject chosen is "How to cele- brate the Queen's reign," the longest in English history. A wealthy soap manufacturer set the ball rolling by proposing that £5,000,000 should be raised to found a . model set- tlement. to be called Victoria town. Columns are now pouring out in the kingdom's newspapers in discussion, wherein all the writers agree that the idea is excellent, but no two writers can agree as to what constitutes a model town, the fiercest controversial- ists gathering round the two items of theatres and drinking saloons. On the question of drinking, the line is sharp- ly drawn. In the matter of theatres, one division insists that a model the- atre should exclude all tragedies, prob- lem plays, and the like, and be strictly limited to comedy, farce, and light opera. Nothing with an unhappy end- ing is to be allowed in the model town, nor are street bands that cannot play harmoniously to be admitted.. Later on the questions of secular and religi- ous education, rates, taxes, trade unit- onism, socialism, and anarchy will over- take the correspondents and help to pile stones on the already dead sug- gestion. When Baby was nick, we gave her Castello. When shows a Child, she cried for Oastoria. When she became Miss, ehe clung to Castors. When she had Children, sheave than Castors! AND FEEL THEM, TOO. What 'a cramped hand Ethel writes lately? `es, she must take unusual pains. GRAIN CROPS IN THE WEST SIXTY PER GENT. OF LAST YEAR'S YIELD EXPECTED. There Will no No Wheat for Export In the East—Stubble Sowing a Essilure—Cor- reet Estimate or the Field in the Terrl- toriet stud Blenitoba. Manitoba is almost on the eve of her harvesting season of 1896.1 This time a year ago the province presented the ap- pearance o oY an El Dorado.: .: Acres upon acres of her fertile plains were teeming with a wheat crop, the most bounteous in her history; her farmers were jubil- ant over the prospects of reaping in riches; and the eyes of Canada were e turned to the endless prairies of the West.: Today the situation is changed. For weeks after the harvest season of 1896 the Canadian Pacific railway was taxed beyond its limits to carry out the great. crop. This year little, if any, wheat will go east for export. It is useless to close one's eyes to the true situation. Were one to judge from the weekly reports issued by the rail- ways traverse Y the province he would necessarily form an erroneous es- timate of the real state of affaixa. Those reports, in several instances, undergo complete alterations before leaving the hands of the officials in charge, so that when they reach the public through the press they are anything but correct. The safest and perhaps most accurate way in which to form an estimate of the actual crop of 1896 is to follow the weekly comments of the many country newspapers as to the crop in their re- spective localities. A correspondent of the Mail and Empire has done this. He has also interviewed several leading grain men and farmers who have been in the city of late: Comparing the in- formation thus obtained with that 1ur- nished by the railway companies, .the following may be put down as a correct estimate A. POOR YIELD. The total wheat yield of the province last year was, in round figures, 30,000,- 000 bushels—an average yield per acre of about twenty-eight bushels. This year the area sown is about seventy., five per cent. of that of last year. The reason for this is that farmers were kept so busy last year taking in, their harvest that they did little if any fall ploughing. Much of this diminished area included land seeded on the stub- ble without ploughing' at all, which is already admitted to be all but a com- plete failure. In addition to this, the lightning and hailstorm of Sunday night, August 2ud, did widespread dam- age. The telegraphic reports of this storm, as sent east, in a faint measure only conveyed an Idea of the havoc it created. In some portions of Southern Manitoba it was thirty miles wide, and devastated everything in its path. In the vicinity of Baldul- alone thirty-five farmers were completely hailed out, leaving them not a vestige of a crop, From all of these causes it is safe to say that the total area of wheat har- vested in 1896 will not exceed 60 per cent. of that of 1895. COMPA.B,AT1VE AVERAGE. Then as to the comparative average yields of the two seasons. Last year, from earliest seeding till the last sheaf was gathered, the conditions were al- most uniformly favorable, with the result of the phenomenally large aver- age yield; and what was of even more favorable consequence, an almost uni- versal high grade sample. It is true that some of the crops was damaged by frost, but not enough' to materially al- ter the results. This has been an "off season." The weather conditions have been anything but favorable—fitfully wet and fitfully dry—and those of tem- perature have been equally erratic, one outcome of the latter being an attack of rust, which is something almost new to Manitoba. Altogether it may be safely said, that, with all conditions from now till the end of harvesting fav- orable, an average of twelve bushels to the acre is a liberal estimate. Tak- ing the figure data given as factors, a simple arithmetical "rule of three" operation demonstrates that the total yield of wheat in Manitoba this sea- son will be lelss than 12,000,000 bushels. LOW GRADE WHEAT. Then, as for the sample, for ob- vious reasons it is already apparent that there must be much wheat of a low grade. One week ago the Red River valleycroplooked o ked poor indeed, but favorable weather has increased its chances many fold. HIGH PRICES EXPECTED. Reports from the Territories would indicate that they are generally faring better than Manitoba in respect to the maturing wheat crop. But as yet, while considerable wheat raising is done there, it does not bulk up much in comparison with Manitoba. It• can be reasonably exp.cted, however, espec- ially seeing that Minnesota and the Da- kotas, the only other part of the world producing the peculiar hard wheat which Is so much sought after by all merchant millers to temper up their flour, are also unfortunate in this year's crop, that wheat of milling grade in Manitoba and the Territories will command a comparatively high price. NOTHING FOR I XPORT. It is the belief that not a bushel of wheat will be exported this year ; and farmers who still have on hand• a por- tion of last year's crop are almost certain to obtain a high price for it. One effect of this year's poor crop will be to boom mixed farming. Al- ready the province is developing a considerable dairy trade. Those who have gone into this branch of farming. industry have, in nearly every in- stance, met with success. • Farmers will not hereafter risk their all in one crop, which a lightning and hailstorm of a few moments' duration can corn= pletely destroy. A RARE FIND. I cannot play on a single instru- ment and don't know one tune from another, said the prettiest girl at the hotel. Are you open to an engagement? ask' ed a voice in her ear. I am an agent'. for a museum of freaks, and we haven't anything in our show to compare with you. • LONDON SOOT. One thousand tons of soot settle monthly within the 118 square miles of London. Those grand dames be the Weet End of the metropolis must find it necessary to have a brooni and scrubbing cloth in hand constantly. Children Cry for Pitcher's Castorlal At a Glance anyone can see the difference be- tween the twin -bar of clear, pure Sunlight Soap and other laundry soaps, but you'll know the difference when you use it because it cleanses with Less Labor Greater Comfort For every 12 Wrappers sent. 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