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 mmfmgmHmr^ m m ' *â-  J 'i ,.#' ,^-.t(js -tif^f" HIS SACRIFICE OR. For X^Q-v^o or Her. CHAPTER XL.â€" (CoHTiNUM).) " YoQ are not well, Btuaeli," she laid to him MiTJonaly, "yon do not act or look like yonnelf Go mod see the doctor, dear. " Bat he shook his head, saying to himself bitterly, " If there was a doctor in the city who eoald cool the fevtr of remorse, could al- lay the pain of passionate res^t, I would go to him. " Ah, if there was such a doctor^ he would bavd more patients than be would know j what to do with. Of course there have been thousands of young engaged people just as happy as Louie and Roy were, only it seemed to them that there never could have been before such perfect happiness as theirs. 'There is not one thing to spoil it." said Louie triumphantly. " And there never shall be," said Roy earnestly. in her own heart Louie was quite positive that there was never before such a lover as PkOy, such a dear, tender, thoughtful.strong lover and Roy, for his part, was just as sure there never was before such a dainty, sweet, gentle, little maiden as this little maiden of his. Society was not nearly so much surprised when the engagement was announced as Muriel had supposed that august body would be; for long before Louie had thought of sach a thing the yonnt; peo- ple of her "set" had begun to link her name and Roy's together, ii very body said they were perfectly suited to each other, and congratulations were showered upon them. "Lucky fellow, that Glenmore," said Louie's masculine admirers â€" and their name was legionâ€" regretfully, and to be truthful, SDmewhat enviously. "Louie was very fortunate to win the love of such a magnificent fellow as Roy Glenmore," said her young lady friends, al- so a little rec^retfully, also somewhat envi- ously "and they say he has a fortune in his own right, beside what that rich uncle of his will leave him." But not one of all Louie's or Roy 's friends was so perfectly delighted as was Mrs. Van Alstyne. Just as soon as that energetic lit- tle lady heard of the engagement she went tD see Louie, and kissed and hugged her en- thusiastically, " You little darling," she said, " I hoped with all my heart you would fall in love with Roy â€" dear, splendid fellow that he is, and I was so afraid you wouldn't, although I did not see myselt how you could very well help it when he loved you. Did I know he loved you " as Louie looked up at her, questioningly " why, of course I did " â€"laughing merrilyâ€"" didn't I see him fall in love with you the very moment I intro- duced him to you, the night of Maud Far- num's reception? Louie," aud Mrs. Van Al- styne spoke earnestly now, her laughing eyes growing thoughtful, " there is not a nobler tellow in this whole city â€" or in any other city, for that matter, than Roy Glenmore, and I congratulate you, dear, most heartily, for I know that he will make you very hap- py you will have a noble husband, Louie, and a true one." Aline Brentwood, too, wished Louie joy, warmly and sincerely, but though she liked Roy very much, still she could not help wondering how Louie cculd have preferred bim to Percy Evringham for Percy was perfect in Aline's eyes, because, you see, she loved him and when a woman loves a man, it is quite natural for her to think he is a little better in every respect than any other man in the world. Before he went back to Baltimore, after Louie had refused him, Percy, whose heart was very sore, had gone to see Aline, and had told her of his bitter disappointment, and dearly as she loved him, unselfish Aline would rather have seen hir.i happy and light-hearted as Louie's • c- cepted lover, than dejected and quite brok- en-hearte I as he was. She tried to comfort him, to cheer him, to make him believe his life was not utterly ruined as he seemed to think it was and, for all his broken- heart and blighted hope^, Percy was not insensi- ble to being pitied and consoled by so beau- tiful and charming a girl as Aline. " I shall think of you always as my d-ar sister, Aline," he said, mournfully, as he rose to go. "I wish you would write to me sometimes, I shall be so lonely now." The dejected look upon the handsome Saxon face went straiglit to Aline's heart, and quite unconsciously she laid her hand in his. "I shall be very glad to write to you, Percy it will be a pleisiue to me." " He will never marrv, nor will J," she said to herself, when he had taken his de- parture "but I would rather be as he said his dear sister, than the wife of any other man in the world " and the thought of the letters she would write him â€" the sisterly lettersâ€" brought a soft flush upon her face and the soft flush was not quite con- sistent with the purely sisterly feelings Al- ine imagined she was for all time to enter- tain for Percy. About three weeks after her engagement to Roy, Louie bad met Richard Brandon the man who was her father, and the meet- ing had in this wise come about Much .is he wanted to see his child â€" and only Gol knew how passionately be longed to see her â€" Russel Anthon felt that he bad not the strength to again cross the threshold of his brother's house he felt that he could not bear another meeting with either Muriel or Arundel so althongn Roy urged him again and again to go with mm, bringing him messat^s even from Muriel â€" once an invita- tion to dinner in the handwriting he so well remembered, and which made him faint and sick to see aeain â€" ^he shook his head always, saying. " I cannot go, Roy â€" never again in- to that house." " I am BO anxious to have you see Louie, Uncle Richard," said Roy one evening, " and she is so anxious to see you too. 1 have thought of a plan Go with us to the theatre, I will get a box and yon can and talk with Louie jast as yon would in her home. Will you Uncle Bicbard?' " Will I yes indeed, Roy. Ah, yon do not know how I want to see her." How impatiently he waited for that eve- ning to come he had thought nothing conld make that desolate heart beat quick and high again, yet as he walked along the street toward the theatre that night, waa throbing aa it had throbl^ ^eai years before at the touch of Ipmd's tingera, tho pleasure of her bead upon hia breast and the thoasht of meetug his cmm ohMr-faiB little dang)rt«râ€" br«n|^ ajlad lightinto the th«d,8ano»fnI •yss He did not hear Bmr'a Toice as with fond pride he introduced Louie. He iras blind and deaf to everything save the lovi^ face that was raised to hia, the music of tiie sweet voice and ashe.heM her hand in hia, beard her speak, felt her warm breath upon his face, it waa aa though the atone iiad sud- denly beenroUed away from the grave where long ago he had laid hia faappineaa and the brightnesa of hia life. Roy wondered at the light that :»me in- to his eyea, the deep tendemesa that aoft- ened his whole face. As for Louie, ah, the inatincta of nature are wonderful all her heart went out towards this man who was to her only Roy's uncle. He did not seem strange or unfamiliar to her, she conld and did talk to him without a feeling of embar- rassment. "You will try and love me a little," he said to her before they parted that evening, speaking with a wistfulness she could not understand, and she answered, lifting her true eyes to his "Hove you now, Mr. Brandon " In his sleep that night there was a smile upon liussel Anthon's face â€" the grief-worn face with its lines of bitter pain, and in his dreim he murmured "My little daughter â€" my little Louie!' After that he saw her many times he went with them â€" Roy and her â€" to church, to the opera and the theatre. He sent her the most beautiful presents, he wept like a child over the dainty little notes she wrote him, but they were tears without bitterness â€" glad tears she filled his life, his heart, his thoughts. "Roy's uncle seems to think the world and all of Louie," Muriel said to Arundel. " Everything he gives her is of the cost- liest description I never saw more elegant presents, I wonder why it is he will not come here don't you think it rather strange, Russel " Did Arundel think it strange? No, no, nor did he wonder at Richard Brandon's love for Louie. Spring went by, summer came. Louie went to Newport with her mother, and Roy managed to spend a great deal of his time there. Was there ever such a summer before â€" such a bright, beautiful summer â€" never to Louie or Roy certainly. All the summers that had gone before seemed to them like winters in comparison with this one. The Anthons returned to the city in Sep- tember then for weeks how busy they were Such shopping exhibitions, such consultations with dressmakers and millin- few among us would have the •{a«ngth to I but the love ot thew childrw ot he odlMl tiiamâ€" poured jat vpon ton, Ventalaiig way toward hppB **• tembk woundsm hu heart. Tbir^l^ Mf«r h«al entirely, those wo nift' n ever •t least in this worid;^bat thef did, wm beat and thiob with te Mae tatderOHr ' agony that they had heeo front a»^ to^ do. before he knew he waa Vpt • dolcBen "I don't see what I want such a quantity of clothes for," said Louie, laughingly. " Why, Roy, it is positively startling, there are drawers full, boxes full, trunks full. I am so glad I shall never have to be mar- ried but once." Muriel took far more interest intha trous- seau than the girl did. And what a troiis- seau it was All her lady friends went in- to ecstasies over it Then the cards were out, and the presents began to pour in. " I don't see what we shall ever do with them all," said Louie; "between the pre- sents and the clothes there ;ron't be any room in the house for Roy and me." " Is there anything they have not sent you, my darling " asked Roy, as he looked at the glittering display of silver, bronzes, laces, jewels, and bric-a-bac. "I don't think so," answered Louie. "Only think, Roy, five clocks and seven dozen silver butter-plates. Don't laugh, it is an awful thing to have seven dozen but- ter plates on your mind." It was a very brilliant wedding the church was packed. Aline Brentwood was one of the four bridemaids, and Percy Evringham had recovered fmm his disap- pointment sufficiently to enable him to £is- sist as one of the ushers. Wondrously lovely was Louie in her gleaming bridal robes, and there was a look upon her face, as she went up the broad aisle, that told very plainly she was not thinking how the folds of her satin train hung, or wonder- ing whether her veil was arranged becom- ingly. No two people ever took upon themselves the solemn vows of matrimony with a full- er sense of their sacredness and purity than Roy and Louie did and when they turned from the altar man and wife, the organ pealing cut the wedding-march, there was a look upon both their faces which had as much of heaven in it as of earth. Russel Anthon was at the church. He saw his daughter given in marriage to the man of whose magnificent manhood he had laid the foundations, whose mind he had formed, whose noble impulses he had drawn out and perfected. For Louie's sake, be- cause she had wished it, and begged him to do so, he attended the reception at the house he had thought he could never again enter and because of the new peace in his heart he was able to answer Muriel when she spoke to him in her sweet, gracious way, but he did not remain long, he knew his strength could be taxed only just so far. When the gayety Waa at its height, Roy, and Louie went away. Husband and wife now, never to be separated, to walk together through life, hand in hand, heart to heart â€" one a part of the other. CHAPTER XLL It is early yet, Uncle Rxhard," said fioy " Yes, only a little past ten," murmured Lome, pleadingly. "Don't go yet, Uncle Richard, stay a little while longer." A smile passed over Richard Brandon's worn face as he listened to themâ€" a smile that, curving his lips, swept away, for the fame being, the weary look of pain which for so many years had been stamMd about his mouth and the sorrow in his dark eyes was replaced for the moment bv a great, deep tenderness aa he laid his hand careesm0y upon the smaU white one which I^uie 1^ hiid upon his arm. They were his chfldron-these two-and the/ loved hun. lafehad been hard and bitter to him. Gad knows he had suffered as few men ar4 called upon to suffer, he had sacrificed m " Wdl, just for a few maattdt^, Hun," he* taid as he resiuned his ^iaic, vid areOr.Us voice had lost the old ring ofhop^pss a^ row which for so long bad been one of its chamoteristics. "Unele Richard rever retnses to do any- thing I ask him," said Louie,- men i- ly. "I think, Roy, Uncle Kichsrd love* me a littte." ' " He would be a very strange person in- deed if he did not," said Roy, looking down at hia young wife with a world of tender- ness in his eyes. " I think yon are a little prejudiced in my favor, Roy," murmured Louie, with a low laugh of pure gladness then after a mo- ment's pause she continued: "Next year this time we shall be in our own house; how lovely that will be and then. Uncle Rich- ard, yon can't say when ten o'clock comes, ' Well, I gaeai 1 will go home now ' for our home will be your home then â€" and oh, how happy we wiH all be " "Am 1 to presame, Mrs. Gleimore, that you are not altogether happy now " asked Roy, with mock gravity. She lifted her fece to his her lips were smiling, but her eyes â€" well, they were smil- ing too, but there were never eyM so full of love and tendemesa, and the happiness that comes of loving and being loved,' as those soft eyes of hers. " Do I look very happy, dear?" For answer he bent and kissed her. The fair face flushed under his caress, for though he was her husband, he was her lover stiU and the time would never come when Louie would be indifferent to Roy's kisses. And Richard Brandon, watching them, said to himself. " Thank God, she loves him â€" loves him as much as he does her " They had been married now two months. Roy and Louie, and though it is said there is no such thine as perfect unalloyed hap- piness in this world, both Roy and Louie would have earnestly disputed it, had that rather melancholy statement b^en made in their hearing this thing is quite certain, their happiness was so nearly perfect that no earthly ey es could have discovered any flaw in it and if there was any happiness great- er than that of being Roy's dear wife Louie did not care to know anything about it. Since their return from their wedding trip, they had been boarding on Fifth Ave- nue, only a few blocks below Louie's old home, where they intended remaining un- til the early summer, when tbey thought to go abroad for a few months then in the fall they were to go into the house which Mr. Trowbridge was buildmg for them upon the lot of ground which had been his wedding prosent to Louie. Richard Brandon had wanted to give them their home. Was it strange that this man, whose own home had been stolen away from him, would have found a happiness, hall sad, wholly tender, in planning and building the honse which would be his daughter's home But Mr. Trowbridge had made up his mind that Louie's home should be a present from him, and Graham Trowbridge at sixty-five was not different from what he had been at twen- ty, in this respect that when he made up his mind to anything it waa utterly impos- sib.eto change his determination. "It's no use, Brandon, to talk to me," he said, half seriously, half in jest. "I have always said that when Louie was married I should give her a house to live in why I have been saving that lot for her for years. 1 might have sold it a hundred times over. You must remember, Brandon, that she is my only grandchild," And a little bitteriy Richard Brandon said to himself, while under his gray mus- tache his lips quivered "She is my only childâ€" yet I cannot give her her home." But he begged to furnish the house for theni, and to that request Mr. Trowbridge acceded and Richard Brandon filled many of his lonely hoursâ€" hours which otherwise would have been filled with bitter memories, with thoughts of the beautiful things with which he would fill bis chil- dren s home For years it had been his cus- tom to walk through the streets, with head a little bent, and eyes that looked only straight before him but now he looked in- to the store windows as he passed them paused when his eyes fell upon a beautiful picture a choice bit of bric-a-brac, a niece of antique furniture, saying to hii^elf, "Lome would like that," or? "I will ge that for Louie, it will be pretty in her 6^- dojr, or library, or parior,»a8 the case might be. When he went by a florist's and saw great maasea of flowers, he stepped in and Ordered the rarest and choicest ones for her- and when he discovered her liking for 6o».' lt^?if^~^!'A^*«*°°"^« ^«^ had been almost crushed by weight of painâ€" when she T^LI"1T^^^" his tak" those she picked out for him with her o#n little fin- gers, because, to use her own words, "thev lowed him to select for himself he m^e And aU these were Uttle things, the mer. est tafles in the world yet the/were hX ing to raise him out of his hopeless desnai?- ing misery, bringing a gleam of snSe mto his darkened life. Day after da^^Se grew deep and deeper into his haS.-Sl was always in his thoushts- h^r ^! between ^m and hT.l:' mli^^ ^^' Vr? r^^. ^« been w«t to moan with breaking heart, '• My W Munel," he murmured now ^th a ten,?!! smile upon his lips. •• My UttU T ^nio own little daughter." Louie-my It was nearly eleven o'clock when he left oy and Louie and as he walked down the avenue-for he waa atill an i^ o° was think time he bad first seen Bcfy: Uie Uttb gdd«i haired hoy, whoso ioaoeoit tove ha hMl al- ways twrht had â- ! iii(ili|it^"" f*o^ â- ^* •Bff IdheUack de |j Slu A waatea the bodvB^Ma thoiulliniilu:tu».«4Uke Bd.4n timsidxiiEitt ^nstiagAofm •bovtt Urn fittiM*irt bUe t^ldo^ jofheavn. GfeMf ii^iii aeinryi««* hb lUtaMtiog with Boy's fcAer, the grave, atsfeelyman with the l^-b«^^*?*nâ„¢P iK^VbohadcalW bmm'J K^ Old*, ^re. Ah, how well he rememberMi it, aa though it had been months inpitoad of long weary years before. How h« was toiling along toward Guaymas worn and footsore, tired and weak, yet bis heart beatting high with hope, thinkmg he was on his way to Muriel; and just as the sun was rising above themountuns, throwing a flood of rosy light apcn the plains, he had come up with the man, whom in such a short time he had learned to love, and who had died in his arms. Would the time ever come when, it would be rij|ht and necessary for Soy to know the story of his father's life Ah, it was a strange story, and the people who had thought it very odd that Roy Glenmore knew little or nothing about his family, would be surprised indeed if they knew what blood it was that flowed in his veins. He did not feel like retiring when he reached home his room was bright and warm, and sitting down before the fire he took up one of the newspapers that lay upon the table, and 'began to look through the columns, reading a little here and there. Suddenly a low exclamation escaped him sitting upright in his chair, he grasp- ed the paper firmly in both hands, and an expression of the most intense interest set- tled upon his face as he read "A Thousand Pounds Reward. â€" To any one who can give correct and satisfac- tory information regarding one Cyril Fair- leigh, who it is supposed went to America in the year and lived there under an assumed name. Any person having any knowledge whatsoever of said Cyril Fair- leigh or his heirs, will communicate at omtt* with Messrs. Gresham Barham, Solicito)ti() Lincoln's Inn. London. England." Once, twice, he read over that paragraph, then he rose from his chair. In one corner of the room stood a small iron safe this he unlocked and from it he took a box. It was the box Henry Glenmore, on his death-bed. had given into his care â€" the box he had guarded so carefully all these years â€" the be X which held the secret of Roy's birth. Lifting the lid he disclosed various bundles of time-yellowel letters and papers, careful- ly sorted and tied up, and his hands trem- bled a little as he drew out two papers â€" more precious than all the rest â€" and unfold- ed them. One was a iiiarriage certificate, the names of the contracting parties being Cyril Fairleigh and Lili m Forsyth the other was a certificate of Riy's birth. Be- fore Richard Brandon laid his] head on his pillow that night he had written a long let- ter to Messrs. Gresham Barham. the Lon- don solicitors. ONLY Pos A genMji^ wh»\^. buying a haek.haSkS.:r '^•5^of%^^. ^.c«ryinuchfurth;?i,^ gigientot had SJll**' r^ta several times "T^ '"•i^ tised to extract te^th witK****^ "Soldo, sir," reK5"«p^«' lyj-itdoesn'tCt'SSSi" A father has been ^„!.- of the family of th:Su7ue?i»\S SOD. "You ought to reason w,u saysthefnendofthetamr "SoldolSoIhave^^ despa^, "butithasnoefl£""' ecoundrel w.ll listen to nTJS fool like himself. I i'H»W talk with him!" ^^*yoato A delightful French saiu^i *^«i"-°*3etflown1?r5tiH A beautiful rosebud of a V^' rfithir"«-^°°'"^-^'^t:' of the old school, "do y^u St '1 I thought you were on a stem r A lady of mature aee i« n« Jaw^^r about insitutin^pieS;^ "I perceive," says the la^. rrSelty?" ^^"""'â- '^**°"2. " I wouldn't have minded sn „, i i beaten." sobs the lady, "if ^ff me m an ordinary manner, but Z thescoundreldidn't, sir, hensed me with â€" " With Compose yourself, mj iJ CHAPTER XLII. In due time Richard Brandon received an answer to his letter; again he wrote and again came a letter from the London law- yers: and the day after the receipt of that second letter he told Soy and Louie that he had business which made it necessary for him to go at once to England. "To England!" echoed Louie, in great surprise, "and how long will you be gone. Uncle Richard " " â-  » ' " Not longer than I can help -probably not over six weeks." " And why can't Mr. Disbrow go instead of you " asked Louie, thinking the mat- ter which was calling him abroad had aome- thing to do with the great wholesale business jvhich he and Mr. Disbrow carried on. A grave smile passed over his face as he answered her "Mr. Disbrow could not transact the business that is taking me to England, dear. When I come back I will tell you all about It. Louie. What shall I bring you from London " dame, " " With my poor dear first husbandi, Breakfast at home. " Well, njadame," tays the heai J house, who has apparently got out olL the wrong side, "what have you li breakfast this morning? Boiled, Seems to me you never have anyttui,! boiled eggs. Boiled Erebus! i?' else, madame, may I ask?" " Mutton chops, my dfar,"8ay8t timidly. " Mutton chops " echoes the bursting into a peal of sardonic "Mutton chops I could have j By the living jingo, madame, if ever] another meal inside of this house-l jamming on his hat and slamming tit 1 the aggrieved man bounds down the f and betakes himself to the restaurant "What'U you have, sir?" says the!. politely, handing him the bill of fare, "Ah!" says the guest, having over it, "let me see! Bring me twoli eggs and a mutton chop " The parents have taken the youii|at| their three daughters to the theatre, had had their doubts about taking the elder ones, for the play was ratheril "naturalistic" kind; but as fortie est. poor child, she would never ses thing wrong in it. At one of the most " naturaliBtic" the little maid observes with all able gravity " Y"ou were quite right, never have done to let the New York World. ma! Iti girls see ill MnuDemiDg's pleisiliith^nM-!h^ J^jS-^ lag of them, thinking with ^eTSl gSd' truly they loved each other. "^^fSL?r* '?/y « "»id to himself one ' ou are always thinking what you shall bring me, dear Uncle Richard," she said tenderiy then with a little laugh she told hiji two or three things she would like to have. "I am getting jealous," said Roy, laugh- T-'^T " J^^at are you going to bring me, Lncle Richard V Again that grave smile curved Richard Brandon s hps. "I shall bring youâ€" something. Roy," he answered quietly and little did Louie 'or Roy himself suspect what that somethina was to be. That was Thursday the following Satur- day Mr. Brandon wiled, taking with him to England the box Henry Glenmore had left m his care. i Both Louie and Roy missed him verv much after he had gone. "I never thought I would love any one outside of my own famUy as dearly L I do him, Lome said to Roy. one day when they were speaking of him. "If he was your own father, Koy, I could not think more of ^r^i^ZVl' 'S^^*^ » littlesigh she wondered to herself whether itwastrong forher tohaveforEiohatd BrwMioiriJvf and tenderaess such »s she had never b able to feel for her father. For it was in- deed w she fels not the slightest restraSt with Roy's; uncle ahe wasMrfeotlv ateale ty, graceful fashion, conld ask his alviw and opinion while her father-or raSeJ ways chilled her J she could never beher own sweet, loving, iapnWve mMin Wspre- »â-  OOSTUOTBD.) Leaves. The leaf is the essential and really u part of the ordinary vegetal or^nisni: at once the mouth, the stomach, the I the lungs, and the whole vital meclu of the entire plant. Indeed, strictest biological point of view even I must be regarded as to some extent u j dividual organism by itself, and the I the head must be looked upon as an a or colony of such separate units ' gether much in the same way as agronfl coral polypes or the separate parts «J sponge in the animal world. Itisosi therefore, that so little attention, coui tively speaking, should have been the shapes of the foliage in various " The causes which have led to the di forms of leaves, " say Sir John hi» " have been so far as I know, exp very few cases." Yet the origin of so" beautiful and varied natural shapes i« if worth a little consideration i^' evolutionary botanist at the present^ the more so as the main princip must guide him in his search after i causes are simple and patent to "5 inquirer. The great function of I* absorption of carbonic acid from the ft its deoxidation under the influence light. From the free carbon thus oba together with the hydrogen lib the water in the sap, the plant """""^i the hydro-carbons which form the wy its various tissues. Vegetal lifew*"' or green plant consists merely in sncB dation of carbonic acid and ^^^,'^2 rangement of their atoms in new lo^^ plying the reception of external ene^ this external energy is supplied by « â€" Grant Allen, in Nature. mg«i ^yoo^ianoar^TZ^^ Tho hS Moased W Minne«,ta intooSIdUn tenS? tory. Some three htmdred of^SCrl^^^. •rereported tohave diST £i^ti?W ^y-y SometliinK Oda About SpoK* When first pulled from the rocks '^^l grows the sponge looks like a 00 mass of putty. It is drab in color, ex ly heavy, has a sickening '^P^^ j fused by a stringy mucus '"""^j it in long viscous lines. The ^^y^^ are partly closed up byasortoi which finds refuge in them, and annoying interloper to the ^^"'Pjjtdl while often a red sea worm an mcnw length is found far within the sp whither he has worked his wsTi the exact function of the mncoat^ not yet appear to be clearly settle" is certain fliat when taken froin«" and placed on stUl bottoms, new are propagated from it; and u â- â- ' of the same living sponge, or w sponges of the same species, are u aide on the sea bottom, they ' together. The vitaUty of we fact, coupled with the 'B fhof pre have »' decreaw^ â- apply, suggests that ere ^/^ i,e ficiiu 1 propagation may "alleged companies tons sales of stock, n Cctthat they have not e hat they are about to ap r One of these reports n*. stock. Tbiscompa L»l difficulties as tot ^Twhich is the basis o( Sich has at least a doze ^jgm trwuftc^o" m the B or stock wiU HAVE A DErttlMBNTAL lore uijnrious to tho m Itiie failure of any one p h had been honestly coi I Btecaation cannot be t Vto invest. After as( ijde being developed by Hs productive, the next ribould be the i^^raonnel Ln all sides it is consic bjr boom in the great No y strongly. From all si lof great finds, assays i (ion mine reports are r I regular fever of investi Joes keep the assaye Mining companies ar e keeping a sharp look fcbor, for fear of anythin r the prospects of this 1 Jie mining boards only th [noted, and so the boom lion now becomes an im Kether the Keewatin dis he valaes placed upon i al ores. This can onl; nount of the productio: J. Geological indicatic tity are fully borne out ad drifting as the wor It mines progress. At 1 the vein was promised W, or a true fissure vei bt to be correct, and is c [inilliDg, and heaviest, ve [the district, the same l i Winnipeg mine. Th |ha8 jnst been been rece ttinmine holders in this mine [that a very rich body k, with RT PROSPECT OF A SI VTELD I water level is reache( |rt8 that work has been g hat the results more th ke Hon. Mr. Norquay, [J. Foy, Mr. McMeans, I Mr. G. McEames ace feher, vice-president of [Mining Company, to R The party w^-'nt to d big find at the mini ^following is clipped f r e», which speaks o Hon. Mr. Norquay rip to Rat Portage on W nghis absence he, in coi her and several other g eKeewatin mine and nc t by the managers of th sunk some 96 feet, ' fte portly premier wei feet from the bottom th I gave way, and Mr. IS uice of the distance, s iMthe shaft with a era W informed, could be fj^ while the earth t p»»e8 of qoine mighty c pa of the shaft being 1 of solid rock, the 1 prevented from eras bowels of the earth '«antry with no oth( |*iii. He would have Hvwn there but for th ^whad kept him comp; !:Ihe miners subsequ 'rope to the adventur 'M* hy means of a den WILD CATS. [^y be safely said thai ^•Hiess has been so bas NS business, "Wild Ca J^aad ferocity, have b "â- jiupecting public, and I "Stained by its mc I «« keeper of the cats. T tn« (3hicago Mining "Jpse, and says "â- â€¢â€¢nionnt ot utterly Mffluiown and unknow ^«d and never will hs ijj^cept in t^e debaj •«*e certificates of tl I^K^ellous and surpi K^ms of hard eari rw«rsteuks which evidence of va .^^lif sole purpose oi [5|«ple. Claims have _oostof location, ai "" pWMAased for f the basis ot a st oi shares one lo hundreds have never evei at' on their