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THE EBONY FRAME To be rich U a luxurious sensation the more so when you have plumbed the depths of hard-lip- ness as a Fleet .Street hack, a picker-up of unconsidered parts, a reporter, an unappreciated journalist all callings dtterly inconsistent with one's family feel- ing and one's direct descent from the Uuk.es ot IV irdy. When my aunt Dorcas died and left me five hundred a year and a furnished house in Cneliea I felt tint life had nothing left to offer except immediate possession of the legacy. Kven Mildred Mayhew, whom I had hitherto regarded as my life's light became less luminous. I was not engaged to Mi! lrd, but I lodged with her mother, and I sang duets with Mildred, and gave her gloves when it would run to it, which was seldom. She was a dear good girl, and I meant to marry her some day. It is very nice to feel that a good little women U thinking of you it helpi you in your work and it is peasant to know she will say " Yes" when you say " Will you?" But, as I say, Tiy legacy almost pnt Mil- dred out of my head, especially as she was staying with friends in the country just then. Before the tirst gloss was off my ne mourning, 1 was ceated in my aunt's o armchair in front of the tire in the dining ! from which it will lie perceived that I am by nature a somewhat sentimental person. The new frame came home and I hung it opposite the fireplace. An exhaustive search among my aunt's piper* showed no explan- ation of the portrait of myseil, no history of the portrait ot th worn in with the won- derful eyes. I only learned that all the old furniture together htd come to my aunt at the death of my great-uncle, the head of the family, and I should hav concluded that room of my own house. My own house ' It was grand, but rather lonely. I did think of Mil Ired just then. The room was comfortably furnished with oak and leather. On the walls hung a few fairly-good oil paintings, but the space above the mantlepiece was disfigured by an exceedingly bad print "The trial of Lord It- 1) .11 ' ,"_... ,,...1 ... K ,4*r.lr franlA the resemblance was only a family one, if every one who came in had not exclaimed at the " speaking likeness." I adopted the " fancy ball " explanation. And there, one muht suppose, the matter of the portrait ended. One might supply it that is, if there were not evidently agood deal more written here about it. However, to me, then, the- matter seemed ended. I went to see Mildred; invited her and her mother to come and stay with me. I rather avoid ! glancing at the picture in the ebony frame. I could act forget nor remember without singular emotion the look in the eyes of that woman when mine first met them. I shrank from repeating that look. I reorganised the house somewhat, pre- paring for Mildred's visit. I turned the dining room into adrawing room. I brought down much of the old taahioned furniture, cw .and, alter a long day of arranging and re- i wn arranging, I sat down before the fire, and, lying back in a pleasant Langour, I idly rais on her shoulder. " I am a ghost I suppoe*," j brating with annoyance, sHe said : " Oh. sbs said laughing softly ; and her laughter , dear : mustn't I even sit in the ssvme chair stirred mnuries which I jiut grarped ac as you" black-velvet woman ' ' and missed. " But you and I know better, I looked at i.he chair in the picture. It don't we ? I will tell vou everything you was the same, aud in her chair Mildred was have forgotten. We loved each other ah : sitting. Then a horrible sense of the reality no, you have not forgotten tint n 1 when j of Mildred came up>n me. Was all this a you came back from the war we were to j reality after all ? But for fortunate chance b; mimed. Our pictures were painted be- mi^ht Mildred have occupied, not only her chair, but her place in my life ? I rose. " I h-jpe you won't thiuk me very rude," I said, bnt I am oblige*! to go out. " I forget what appointment I alleged. The . fore you went away. You kuow I more Iearn*l than women of that day. Ljear oue. when you were gouc they said I was a witch. They tried me. They said I should tie burued. Just becaus* I had lie came readily enough. looked at the star* and had gained more j I faced Mildre-l's pout* with the hope knowledge than they, they must needs bind that she and her mother would not wait me to a stake and let me be eaten by the dinner for me. I fled. In another minute tire. And you far away '." ' I was safe, alone, under the chill, cloudy Her whil-! body trembled and shrank. ' Autumn sky free to think, think, think of ' Oh, love, what dream could have told me my dear lady. that my kisses would soothe even that mem- 1 walked for hoars along streets and; ory? square* ; I lived over again and again every ' " The ni^ht before," she went on, "the look, word, and hand-touch every kiss; I devil did come to me. I was innocent be- was completely, unspeakably happy, fore you know it, don't you ? And even Mildred was utterly forgotten; my lady then my sin was for you for you because of the ebony fra.i.e tilled my heart and soul of the exceeding lovs I bore y m. The devil and spirits, came, and Isold my soul tn eternal flame. As I heard 11 boom through the fog I But I got A good price. I got the right to come back, through my picture, < if anybody turned aud went home. When I got to my street I found a crowd ed my eyes to the picture. I met her dark, deep, haul eye*, andonce more my gaze was held fixed as by a itrong magic the kind of fascination that keeps one sometimes staring for whole minutes into one 'sown eyes in the glass. I gazed into her eyes and felt my own dilate, pricked with a smart like the smart of tears. William"K"usseir" framed in a dark frame " I wish," I said. " Oh, how I wish you up to look at it. I had visited my were a woman and not a picture '. Come aunt with dutiful regularity, but I never I down '. Ah, come down !" reme:iil>rcd seeing this frame before. It [ I laughed at myself aa I spoke, but even as I laughed I held out my arms. I was not sleepy ; I was not drunk. I was as wide-awake and as sober u was not intended "for a print, but for an oil pointing. It was of fine ebony, beauti- fully and curiously carved. I looked at it with growing interest, and when my aunt's housemaid 1 had retained her modest staff of servants came in with the lamp, I asked her how long the p.-uit had been there. " Mistress only bought it two days aforo she WAS took ill. she said : " but the frame she didn't want to buy a new oue *> she got this out of the attic. There's lots of curious old things there. Sir." " Hod my aunt had this frame long 7" " Oh, ye?, Sir. It come long afore 1 di-l, and I've "been here seven years come I'hrist- ma*. There was a picture in it that's up stairs, too -but it's that black an<l ugly it might as well be a chimney-back." I felt a desire to see this picture. What if it were some priceless old uiav.er in which my aunt's eyea had only seeu rub- bish ? Directly after breakfast next morning I paid a visit to the lumber room. It was crammed with old furniture enough to stock a curioaity shop. All the house was furnished solidly in the early Victorian style, and in this room c\erytnin not in keeping with tlie "drawing-room suite" ideal was stowed away. Tables of ever was a man in this world. And yet, as I held out ' my arms, I saw the eye* of th-s picture di- late, her lips tremble if I rere to be hang- ed for it, it ia true. Her hand* moved slightly, aud a sort of dicker of a smile passed over her face. I (prang to my feet. " This won't do," I said still aloud. " Firelight does play strange tricks. " I'll have a lamp." I pulled myself together, and mad* for the bell. My hand was on it, when i heard a sound behind me, and turned th.; bell still mining. The tire nad burned low, and the corners of the room were deeply shad- owed : but, surely, there behind the tall worked chair was something darker than a shadow. "I must fa.-e this out," I said, "or I shall never be able to face myself again." I left th* bell, I seized the |>oker. and I bat- tered the dull coals to a blue, llien I stepped back resolutely and looked up at the picture. The ebony frame was empty. From the shadow of the chair came a silken rustle, and out of the shadow the wonuu iu the picture wa* coining. I hope I shall never again know a moment of such blank aud absolute terror as that. ler macho and mother of pearl, straight- i 1 could not IIAV* nivrl<>r :ken to save P*P L y - backed chairs with twisted feet and faded needlework cushions, tire screens ol Old World liemun. old bureaus with brass handles, a little work table with its faded moth eaten silk tlutings hanging in discon- solate shreds ; ou these and the dust that covered them blazed the full daylight as I my life. Kitherall the known law* of nature were nothing, or 1 was mad. 1 stood trtmb- l.n j. l>at I am thankful to remember, stood s'i i. while the black velvet gown swept avross the hearthrug toward me. Next moment a hand touched me a hand soft, warm, and human and a low voice drew up the blinds. I promised myself a slid ; " Y ou call me. I am here." good time in re-emhriniug these household I At that touch and that voi-e, the world gods in my parlor and promolin;,; the Victor- <ovnie-l t > give a sort of bewildering half ian suite 'to the attic. But at present mv j turn. I haidly know how to express it, businevs was to Hud the picture as " black as the chimley-back "; and presently, be- life studi hind n heap oi hideous still-life studies, I found it. Jane, the housemaid, identified it a' once. ( took it downstairs carefully and examined it. No subject, no color was listinguishable. There was a splodge of a darker tint in the middle, but w lift her it WA figure or tree or house no man could have told. 1 1 seemed to be painted on a very thick panel Ui-.i-ul with leather. I decided to send it tonne of those (torsons who (tour the w iters of eternal ,'outh on rotting family portraits nv-re nap a:id water. Mr. llesant tell* us it is >ut even as I did so the thought occurred to ne tn try my own restorative hand at a .-ornerof it. My bath sponge, soap, and nailbrush vig- orously applied for a few seconds showed in- that there wax no picture tool. an ! Bare oak presented itself to my pfrsevoruigbrusli. I tried th other side, .lai.c watching me with indulgent interest. Same result. Th.-n the truth dawned on me. Why was tlie panel so thick ? I tore off the leathrr biiu'- but at once it seemed not awful not even unusual for portraits t<i become flesh- only most natural, mo*t right, most unspeak- ably fortunate. I laid my hand on hers. I looked from her to my portrait. I could not *ee it 1:1 tlic firelight. II S\ e are not stranger*. " I said. " Oh, no, not s> ranger*. " These luminous eyeswere looking up mt mine those red lip; were near me. With a passionate ,-r>- a sense of having suddenly recovered life s one creat good, tint had seemed wholly lost -1 clasped her in my arms. She wo* noghoat she waaawom.in the only woman in i ho world. " How long," I said, " oh, love hovlong ince I lost you " " She li.ined back, hinging her full weight on the hands that were duped behind my head. " How en I tell how long? There is no time in hell," she answered. It w:w not a dream. Ah. n there are n'.. such dreams. I wish to I Sod there could be. When in dreams do I see her eyes, runrher voice, feel her lips ag.iiusl my ing.afcd the panel divided and fell to th,. , groumTinacUdofdust. There wore ,., f^ h ,". U ^ *5*lSjfe "I'M pictures they had l>een nailed Uce to face. I leaned them agau.st the wall, and next moment I was leaning atram'. it my vlt. For one of the pictures wss myself a perfect portrait no shade of expression nr turn of fe-iture wanting. Myself in a ev- alier dress, "love-locks am) all!" When had this been done? And lion*, vutviut my knowledge ? Was t his some whim of my tuut's? " I. "r'. Sir '" the shrill surprise of Jane at my elbow ; "what a lovely photo it is" Was H for a fancy lull. Sir'" " Yes, I slanuiered. " I I don't think I want anything more now. You can go." She went; and I turned, still with my heart Iwalin,; violently, to the other picture This was * woman of tlie type of beauty beloved cf P. inif Jones .id Unssclli straight nose, low brows full lips thin hand* Uii!c, deep, luminous eyes. She wore a black velvet gown. It was a full-length portrait. Her arms rested on it table !*<:. le her, and her head on her hands : but her fife was turned full forward, and her eyes met those of the spectator bewildering). On the tmble. by her were eompatse* and iintm ments hose uses I did not ki ow. I >.ks, a goblet, and a miscellaneous ln-ip of ppers and pens. I saw all this afterw ir I I be lieve it was a quarter of an hour l>e'ore 1 could turn my eves from hers. I have never j>e<'n any other eye* like her*. They appealed, as a child's or a dog's do ; they commanded, as mi^hl th.'-e of an em) " -shall 1 swee up the duv, Sir ' " I'uri- osity had brought June back. I acceded. 1 turned from her my portrait. I kept be tweivi her and the worn in in the MACK vel- vet. When I was alone a^aiu I tore down I'ho 1'i-al of Lt>rd\\ illiaui llmsoll," and 1 put the pif.ure of the woniiii :u it* strong ebony frame. Then 1 wrote to a frame maker for a fr*me for my portrait, it had o loni; lived facj to face with th:s beautiful witch thnt I li-ul not the heart to 'MUIS'I it Iro n her prepuce. that ni^la the supreme night of my life? At tiist we hardly spoke. It jeemr.l ei. fle>r ionic icrief an-l pun. To feel i ho arm of my imo love lloim.l mo nave itm. It is very difficult to tell this story. There are n-< wi> ! to express the sense of ^U.l reunion, the complete realization of every hope and dream of .1 life thv. fime ::pm me as I t with my hand 111 hen aud 1 \>k e>l in'.o her eyes. How could it have been a drvam, when 1 left her 'ittuii; m the atr.n^ht Kicked chair, and went down to the kitchen to tell the maids I should want nothing more that I wii.i II'HV and did not wish to be disturbed : when I fetched wood for the lire with my own hands, and bringmt; it in, found her still sitting there saw t'\f little brown head turn as I entered, saw the love in her dear eyes ; when 1 threw m\sol: At her feet and blessed the f\iy 1 wo* born, since life Imd given me this' N thought of Mildred : all tho other things in my 1 f were a dream this, its .in- ^plendul reality " 1 am wondering, "she said after a while, when we h id made such cheer each : th* other as true lovers may after lon,s pirting " I am wondering how much you temem- ber of our past." "I renumber nothing," I said. ''Oh, my d'-ir lady, mv dear sweetheart -I re- member nothing but that I lov* you that I have loved you all my life." " You remember nothing -reallynothing?" " Only that 1 nm your* ; that wo have both su'lered ; tint -Tell me, my mistress dear, all that you renwtnb -r. Kxiilain it all to me. Mako m- understand. An ' M-I N I don't int to understand. It is t'lat we ar* together." If u was *drea>u why have I never dream- ed it again*" Shr tr.niod down toward me, hei arm ly on m\ i . i i drew mv lio.iil till it rested looking at it wished for me. i AS long as my j surging through it, a strong red light filling picture staid in its ebony frame. That the air. frame was not carved by man's hand. I got the right to come back to yon. Oh, my heart's heart, and another thing I won, hioh you shall hear anon. They burued me for a witch, they made mi suffer hell on earth. Those faces crowding all round, the crackling wood, ad the smell of the smoke 'Oh, love ! no more no more. ' A house was on fire : Mine ' I elbowed my way through the crowd. The picture of my Udy that, at least, I could save ! As I sprang up the steps. I saw, as in a dream yes all this was really drea.n-like I saw Mildred leaning out of'ihs hrsl-floor window, wringing her hands. Come ba.-li. Sir," cried a fireman my picture she wept and ci if I : Come back my poor lost child !' And I went to her, with glad leaps of heart. Dear, she shrank from me, she fled, sh shrieked, and moaned covered " When my mother sat that night before " we'll getthe young lady nut right enough. But my lady ? I went on up the stain cracking, smoking, and as hot a* hell to the room where her picture was. Strange I to say, I only felt that the picture was a ' of ghosts. She hail our pictures thing we should like to look on through the t from sight and p:'. i^xm in the long glad wedded life that wai to be ours. I never thought of it as being on* with her. As I reached the first door I felt arais 1 round my neck. The smoke was too thick for me to distinguish feature*. " Save me f a voice whispered. I clasp- ed a figure in my arms, aud, with a strange dis eate, bore it down the shaking stairs and out into safety. It was Mildred. I knew that ebony frame. .She had promised me my picture should stay always there. Ah, through all these year* your face was against mine." She paused. " Hit the mm you loved?" " Vou came home. My picture was gone. They lied to you, and you married another womau ; but some day I knew you would directly I clasped her. walk the world again and that I ihjull :-.-.d " ^'.and back," cried the crowd. you." " Kvery ono's safe." cried a fireman. " The other gain?" I aaktd. The dames leaned trom every window. " The other gain," she answered slowly. The sy grew re-l.l-r aod redder." I sprang I gave my soul for. Itisth-.i. If you from the niod> that wjuld have held me. also will give up your li.-pei o Heaven I can remain a woman, I can move in yo-:r world 1 can be your wife. Oh, my dear, after all these years, at last at Makes the Weak Strong Tli- 1 marked benefit which people to rum down or weakened state of health derive frotn Hood's SaraaparUU. eoncluslvelv proves the claim llul Una mnlieiue nukes tueweak strong. ' It does not art like a stimulant, Imparting fictitious strenirlh (rum which (her* must follow a reaction ol greater w nines* than before, but IB the most natural way Hood's SarsaparUla overcome* That Tired Feeling creates an a;'p::i!*. punHes the bl. >! ni'I. 111 short, gives great Lodiljr. uenre, meuul aad digestive - enjrih. - 1 derived \ much benefit frm n.*>d's Ssrviparilla. wblcU I took fur general ueliility. It biult me right up, and ~:ve iw aa excel- lent appetite." Kp.J>u.xs. Mt. Savage, Mtl. Fagged Out - Last spring I was completely fafsed ont. My strength left me aod I fett sick and mis- erable ail the time, so that I could hardly attend to my business. I took one bottle oC Hood's Sa.-apanlla. ind it cured me. There is nothing like It." It. C. BBOOLJS. tailor Enterprise. BelleTille, Mica. Worn Out "Hood's Sarsap.inll* restored rn* to jood health. Indeed. I might say truthfully K sired my life. To on* feeling tired *ud wont out I would earnestly recommend a trial of Uood'sSanaparuU." M BJ. PHEBE MoHE. 9* Brooks s;. vet. East Boston. Moss. N B. It >..u decide to take Hood's Sana- purilia do not be induced to bur anytnin { els* Instead. Insist upon having Hood's Sarsaparilla Soldbjall.lnifs'lsts. fl:tUfor(S. \ij (.' I !(> I>4 Co . Apclhu-ir IOO Doses One FnparedoafT Low.U. Dollar in the eb- 'If I sacrifice my soul," I said slowly. " As long as my picture ouy frame." Wiiat if perishe 1 together? 1 tough: with the tire, and with my own chckinj inability to tight with it, I pushed with no thought of the imbeeihty of su.-h on. I m it save my picture, I reached the " drawing room. A< 1 >;-ag in I saw my la.lv I swesr it -throu^n the smoke and the' flames, hold out her arms to me to ni" who came loo laic to save her aud to save my own life's joy. I never saw her again, Bef jre I could reach her or cry out to her I felt the floor yield iieneith my feet, and talk in our "so-called nineteenth century " if I sacrifice my soul, I win you ' Why, love, it's a contradiction in term. You arc my souL" 11-r eyes looked straight into mine. Whatever might happen, whatever d.-l happen, whatever may happen, our two so.ils in th.it moment met AIM hc.ime one. " Then you choose you deliberately .-boose to give up your hop. -a of Heaven tor mo. as I ,;ave up mine for you V fell into the ticry hell below. II iij they save me * What docs that I decline," 1 Slid, " to give up my m uer * They saved me some.iow -urse ipe of Heaven on any terms. Tell me whal them. Every stick of my aunt's furniture I must do tint you and I may mike our own WM destroyed. My friend* pointed out i Heaven here a- now, mv dear l.-ve. ,h*t, as the furniture was heavily inured. ! I will tell y>u to-morrow." she aid. u She are Spoke- In a hotel not 100 miles from the top of the Rigi, the following annjanc-raent gives ifreat satis:* '.listers the venerable voyager* ar* advertised tliat when the sun him rise a h -r:t .il be blowod." That au- oaaoMMQtsam.-ien'ly prepares tlie visitor * _ -. " In le wiue* leave th.- traveler co'.h- m^ to hope for." He^.wtjd to be 3a:. "I beg your panlon, " remarked a man OB hi* wy home a-. :i a.m. : " are you a police- man* ' Ye, i.r,' r.spouJei the oficr conn- dently. "Kx us.- in'. CJir.inued the man. wa*u t sure, seeing you wereawak*." Be alone here to-morrow night twelve is ghost's time. isn't it V in. I thon I will come out of the picture an 1 never go back to it. 1 ihall live with you. ami die and be buried, ami there will be an en 1 of me. I'ut we shall live first, my heart's heart." 1 Uid my head on her knee. A strange Irowsincss overcame me. Holding herluud aj.iinst my cheek, I lost consciousness. When I awoke the gray November diwn was glimmering, ghostlike, through the uncurtaiued window. My head was pillow- ed ou my *ru. which resteil I raised my head <[uickly ah ! not on my lady's knoe. but on the needle-worked cushion of the straight-backed chair. 1 sprang to my feet. 1 was stiff with cold and dazed with dreams, bu; 1 turned my eyes on the picture. There she sat. my lady, my dear love. I held out my arms, but the passionate cry I would have uttered died on my li[>. She hid Saul twelve o'clock, lift lightest word was my law. So 1 only :> I in frv:it of the picture and ja/ed in'" th*e ^ray ^rten eyei till tears of panionatc liipriine;* tilled 111% "WM. "i'h, my iKvir. my de*r, how nhall 1 pass the hours till 1 hold you ;ui> '" the carelessness of a mgtuly -studious house maid had done no harm. N inn ! That was how I wou and lost my ouly ' love. 1 deny, with ill my soul in the .K-unl, Ui.it it w a drea-n. I'iicie are no such .ire.iiii*. i 1'reams of lonjiag and pun there arc in plenty, bu: dreams of complete: of unspeak- able happ:ncs ah, no it u the retof lile that is the drvam. Hut if I thiuk that, why have I married Mildreti, and grown stout aud dull and pros perous. 1 tell yon it n All this tin- < iream: iny 1 1 -.11' !a !\ <>n'y t< t:ie reality. An.i docs it matter w i.it oue di^et in a >lrv.ini ' l.'W AdeUi.le St. W.. Toronto, Ont. : ' Your reliable preparation. St. Jacobs Oil, has proved a hencht to me in more u ivs than "lie. I hive used it for iiumy win! .j>!>l-n.-.ition) with very >>eneticial re- sults, ami for a case of rheumatism, where its action was svr::'t and sure, and a pcrfe.-t I cousiiler it arenifity cure w.is performed. No thought, then, of my whoL life's com., to be pri -e 1 in every h> pletion and consummation l>eiug a dream. 1 staggered up to my room, fell acnwstny Ivd. and selpt heavily n-id dreaml.--*!y. When I awoke it was high noon. Mildred and her mother were C'Miiii^ to lunch. I remejubeiiHl. at oue shock, Mildred's >-OIM nit; and her existence. Now indeed the dream with Johnson * Brown. ItirrlbV ChllJ Wnnlrr *i.r. M ul.une I.oovari. wife of th-. 1 ex-M.nis'.fr of War iu Uoumania, was stay i rand Hole! m Paris since Ai!g..st liUh. She was accompanied by ber son aud a tier- With* penetrating sen*e of the futility , 11An servant named Anna MielviU. On of any action apart from her, I gave the r \Vednesdav the party left for Bucharest, necessary orders for the reception of my Karl) on Wednesday morning a workman guests. When Mildred and her mother attending to the drains which led from the came I received them with cordiality ; but apartment* lately occupied by the visitor*, my ;< m*l phrases all seemed to be some one discovered the corpses of two newly-born else's. My v>ice scundrd Ilk* on echo ; my heirt w* otherwhere. S.-.il. the situation was not intolerable until the hour when afternoon tea was terved iu the drav ing rtviu. Mildred and her mother kept the conversational put infants, a bov and a girl, both headless. IVoceediuj; a little further he discovered the niiMing heads, which must have been thrown down the closet before the bodies. An investigation wa* immediately .-<; on foot, and then it was remembered that the ser- "August Flower" How does he feel ? He feels cranky, and is constantly experi- menting, dieting himself, adopting strange notions, and changing the cooking, the dishes, the Lours, and manner of his eating August Flower the Remedy. How does he feel ? He feels at times a gnawing, voracious, insati- appeiite. wholly unaccountable, unnatural and unhealthy. August Flower the Remedy. 9 How does he feel ? He feels no desire to go to the table and a grumbling, tault-tindirsg, over-nice- ty about what is set before him when he is there August Flower tho Remedy. How does he feel ? Ho :" h alter a spell of this abnormal appe- tite ati utter abhorrence, loathing, and detestation of food ; as if a mouthful would kill him August Flower the Remedy. How does he feel ? He has to* re':!ar bowels and peculiar stooia August Flower the Remedy. > If we had no fault* of our own we would not take so much pleasure m remarking those of other*. It is n -t true that tue world 1. 1 The modct and unobtrusive pi-tv which till* the heart with all human chortic* and boi'itif with profusion of jjcnteel common vant had been mysteriously indisposed, and i . --.and I )>ore it m one can bear mild had refused to ie a doctor when her mistress , purisatori** when one is in *ight of Heaven, j offered. On the maltn-s* there were Urge lulAw ,., K nt | toother* and - I looked up t my sweetheart m the ebjny (nuts of blood, and stowed away in a corner o i m ,,.if 411 \,b e^ of mrver-i frame, and I felt that .viythma tht imghl ( the room w-r- found some linen, a table yt . tu , |1<B y u ' t m^^^j hates the Ut of happen, any irresponsible imbecility any kmfe, and other objects. -11 blood .tallied whel , vflM mukr , h? b rf Uthosof K-r-lom. was nothing, if, after U The table-knife had evidently been used to ' t ., y . , hev b.te canting ai-,1 hyp- cut the heads off the two babies. A ;>W. j JJ h , ^ivertisers .nd quacks in prt-ty . ex.nmn..tion proves that the chil.lieii th - ,,, ve to tmr (o n and ,, npll ,leu>-e from were born alive. A warrant for the appre- [ tn / alur wnKU shou la K- , only all, she came to me again. And yet, when Mildred, too, looked at the portrait and raid, " What a fine lady ' On* of your flame*, Mr. IVvigue ?' 1 had a sickening s*ne of impotsnt imtati-' i. which became absolute torture when Mildred how could I ever have admired th- chocolate box barmaid style of prcltineM? threw herself into the hi^h-W-ked chair, c <\vriii the needlework with her ridiculous flounces, and added: "Silence gives coir -,'ui \\ t,o is it, Mr. lV\ige? Tell us all ,U>ut her ; 1 am sine <he has a story." Toor little Mildred, sitting there smilunj, terece iu her c.<ntidno that her every word charmeil me mt'.uiij theie with her rather pinched waist, her rat her tight !.>.>:, her rtn*r vulgar voi>v iitluit; in the ch*ir where my de.tr ldy had sat wneii *lie told me her story '. I could not War it. lV>n i sit there, " 1 said : " it s not com forlahlf ' lint th* girl would no-. K- warned With a laueh that set every ucn- n mv )>.U \i heiision of Bucharest. the woman has been sent to (or , h< wteunc j thr THIRTY YEAES, Johnston, X. B., March it. 1889. " 1 was troubled for thirty years with pains in my >iJc. which incrva>c<.l and became very l\id. 1 used JACOBS OIL I I ST. it completely cured. I ~i\c It ALL RI6HT! ill pr.usc. MRS. \VM. ST. JACOBS OIL DID / r .