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h. ow F Se" Seve va & Mn Wce BA Then the east brightened, and Carl waited torsee the moon rise.> How strange and wasted and ghastly it looked, pushing its pale horn over the broken line of roofs, * then floating away like the ghost of a white canoe into the dark ocean of space ! Carl was watching the moon when . he became suddenly aware of an object _moving between its light and him, ‘ something which he tried at first to think was a cat, but which he was speedily convinced could be nothing else than a human head and shoulders. Ib was on the roof of the third house, in the same block, creeping slowly over the ridge poleâ€"a black silâ€" houette shape defined ~acainst the How beautiful, how faroff, spavkled those starry fires! How silent slept the city roofs beneath! The town seemed not only asleep, but dead; and on‘ly the burning eyes of the stars apâ€" peared alive. There was something fascinating in the sublime solitude of tha; lonely outâ€" look into infinite, glittering space. Having finished his studies for the night, and partly closed the window, Carl_still stood there remembering that it was Christmas time, and thinking how many childish heads lay « sleeping a@ll about him, dreamingz perhaps even then of Santa Claus coming over those roofs, loaded with presents for good‘ boys and girls ! Stepping upon an old trunk placed for the purpose, he was able to lift the skylight sash on its hinges, lay it back upon the slopiug roof, and then stand with his head out under the starry hemisphere. The night was cold, and he wore his coat and cap as if he had ‘been on the street, When he wished to refer to his maps he stepped into the adjoining room, then once more returned to his hole on the roof, put out his head, and traced the constellations. It was Christmas eve.. Carl‘s mind was filled with thoughts of home and memories of many a bygone Christâ€" mas. â€" He could not study, so he threw his book aside and wrote long letters to his widowed mother and sisters, who he knew were thinking of him then. When he got through it was near midnight. He did not feel like sleep, and taking his lamp, he went to the top of the house, where he was acâ€" custo ned to find a pleasant recreation, after pouring late over his books, in studying the stars, He used a table in one of the garret rooms for his lamp and celestial altar $ and, for the cbservations of the heavâ€" ens a scuttle window on the landing of the attic stairs. 3 Now Carl had never in his life anyâ€" thing so much liks an adventure »s this; but he was destined to meet with someâ€" thing much more like one before the winter was over. t §Cmezs) Carl was then sixteen years old, hea thy and hardy, and full of hope. Had he been without an object in life, he would have been lonesome and homesick enough in . the old house; there, I fear, but few of his spare hours would have been spent. But, fired with a noble ambition, he found a pleasure in the quiet life he led there, a satisfaction in getting his own frugal breakfast, and baking his own bread and potatoes. «And so it happened that he found himself alone in the great house that winter.. As he was a poor boy, with an education and a living to get, he had, fortunately, no. very fastidious views of life; ard what would have been a hardship to many, he accepted avith thankfulness, even with clee. The migration of the family was a source of great disappointment to Carl as his aunt had predicted. But he had much of his uncle‘s decisive turn of mind, and he consented at ouce to the arracement. . 9T have it 1‘ cried Uncle Robson. «‘Carl shall come to sleep in tne house «and take care of the things" "Alone 1‘ Why not ? He is a plucky fellowâ€" he won‘t mind. He can make his own bed, and get hisâ€"meals at a restaurant. T‘ll write to him." ‘"And Carl, who was to board with us? â€"what shall we do with him 1 It will be such a disappointment to the poor boy!" ‘And the house:â€"with all our nice things in i6 !" ""Shut it up, or get some one to come and sleep in it." "I shall be worried to death about the house,‘ said Aunt Robson despairâ€" ingly. ; 8 ©But the girls?" said poor Ms. Robâ€" son, whose head was usually put in a whirl by her husband‘s swifté: way of «deciding things. "Take them, with us." "And the servants ?" ©Take Molly, too. You have Leen wanting to get rid of the cook ; now is vour chance." . BY JJ. T. TROWBRIDGE: It had been fully agraed that Carl Robson was to board with his uncle‘s family in town and go to town . to sehool that winter, when Aunt: Robâ€" son‘s cunsumptive cough unsettled everything. "She must go South," said the, docâ€" tor; and Uncle Robson, who lhad busiâ€" hess connections in Havana, resolved at once that he would accompany her thither, Oarl Rotkson‘s Christmas. Hugging the captured legs with all his remaining strength, he went stagâ€" gering back against the door which he this time succeeded in throwing open. When the burglar, whose head had struck the floor as he fell, fully reâ€" gained his senses, he found himself lyâ€" He was half out, when he once more felt the inexorable grip upon his legs. Carl had somehow dodged the chair; and all the fury of fight aroused in him, he reached the upper landing in time to give his antagonist another and more damaging fall. Back up the stairwa,yrthe latter leaped, seized the first thing he could lay hold of, which happened to be a chair, hurled it down upon Carl, and made a spring at the window. Both were slightly stunned by the tumble. The burglar was the first to recover breath and strength. Flinging Carl off, he scrambled to his feet. Carl was up almost as soon as he; but he was on the lower landing, while the burglar was one or two steps above. mURn 4 i 1 What happened to him afterward he hardly knew, until he found himself rolling with his antagonist down the attic stairs. . 5 usn The freed foot was goofi, however, to aid in the rescue of its mate, and it gave Carl no leisure tor opening the door. Suddenly he changed his tactâ€" ics, let go the foot as it was escaping him, and fung himself headlong upon the prostrate burglar. ifeimiiboerstee s wineanenaate MB coal on cnt o on e ie t 'ging their owner after him toward the room in which the lamp was left. But before he could open the door one foot had kicked itself free and was beginâ€" ning to play a hasty tattoo upon his arms and chest. Had the burglar worn boots he would have made a bad job of it for his captor. But he had eatered the house with nothing but stockings and soft rubber shoes on the feet, and the rubbers were lost off in the bezinning of the strugole ®Before the legs touched the landing, however, Carl rose up, rushed forward, seized them, and bore them away. There was a short strugole, during which the intruder tried in vain to maintain his hold upon the frame and get back his legs; then there was a heavy fall; the hands. and avms, wrenched from their support, while Carl tugged at the legs, and let the head and body drop with a crash and. a thump, partly upon the lid of the old trunk and partly upon the floor. 1 Carl still held the legs in the air, dravâ€" In a little while the head was withâ€" drawn; afterward a pair of feet apâ€" ‘peared over the windowâ€"pane, then a pair of dangling legs. Another brief, intense silence; then the legs turned, and cautiously over the panea slender human form let itself into the house. The iron ‘arm freed, the sash was slowly and noigelessly lifted and laid back upon the roof. Then all was still for a few minutes. Carl could hear his ow n heart beat. Thea a head was put down through the opening. Carl was tempted to make a dash at that, too, and haul the burglar in with fingâ€" ers clutching his throat. \ roor below the scuttle to wait for him. «n a little while, without the slightâ€" est nois., a face appeared over the skylight. Carl, from his dark corner, had but a glimpse of it; then a hand reached down to unfasten from its key the iron arm on which the raised sash rested.. It was with difficulty that Carl resisted an impulse to seize hold of the hand and make trouble tor the owner Carl determined to let him come, and cro iched under: the slope of ‘the roof below the scuttle to wait for him. Again the boy‘s blood curdled. But his resolution of mind did not waver for a moment. : One of two things was to be decided upon instantlyâ€"to close and fasten the window upon the burgâ€" lar, if burglar he was, orâ€"to let him The mysterious visitor had left his perch and was running along, hitch by hitch, in a halfâ€"sitting, halfâ€"reclining posture toward the skylight. No Santa Claus that !" he said to himself. _ "Somebody that has no bust ness on this roof! Most probably a burglar, _ Looks like a young fellow, a boy. â€"He musn‘t see me !" Carl stepped noiselessly back, closed the door of the room in which his lamp was burning, then cautiously put his eyes up over the scuttle frame once more,. Now Cirl: was no coward as the event proved. Aml yeb it must be owned that the mystery of the thing \'ividl_v impressed| mis imagination, an l made the roots of his hair thrill and stir for a few seconds. ‘Then reason came to his aid. His curiosity was strongly excited, however, and he continued to watch. Several minutes elapsed, during which he saw nothing, Feard nothing. The figare, he concluded, must have got down on an intervening roof, which was lower by a few feet shan the roof on each side of it. Such proved to have been the case, Cl was still watching. when a head, in a close fitting cap, was thrust. over the€edge of the very roof where he was, and within fifteen feet of the seutâ€" tle. A pair of shoulders. followed; then, after a brief pause, the entire: figure hopped up on the roof, as softly. and light as an ape, and sat there in‘ the moonlight, p "It is somebody playing _ Santa Claug !‘ was Carl‘s first â€"natural thought. the slope, and di_suépea,red in a shadow moon. _ Then it stepped silently down ‘My father is a good man enough, but he has never treated me right. Neither he nor my mother ever had any authority over me when I was litâ€" tle. I«didn‘t want to go toâ€"school,and they didn‘t make me as they ought to have done. They tried to. hire and coax me to go when I wouldn‘t they made all sorts of excuses for me, until I really thought I was a rare bodyâ€" an exceptional characterâ€"too delicate either to work or study. That‘s the way I was brought up. ‘Then when they found out their mistake it was too late. T was so ignorant for a boy of my age, that I was ashamed to go to the public school and be in the classes where I belonged ; so at last I was sent to the private school where you saw me, â€" Youknow how it was there. I couldn‘t get along and keep up with even the lowest class. I was too backâ€" ward in everything. I had. never learned to apply myself, I got mad. and leftâ€"ran away.‘ e ‘Ran away from home? Â¥esâ€"for I had to, then, if I left school. My father has turned right ‘Not wholly, I don‘t suppose anyâ€" body ever is so. _ How does it happen? I remember your father coming » to school to inquire about you; he seemed a decent sort of a man. I‘m naturally wildâ€"the most reckâ€" less fellow . you ever saw! T‘d give anything if I was like you. Do you suppose I‘m a scamp bscause I want to be? â€" ‘I suppose so. Now, tell me of yourâ€" self, I want to know how you ever came to do so strange, so wild a thine!‘ "Not just now. I live here all alone, take care of my own room, and get my own breakfast and supper. «Ain‘t you lonesome as the dogs?" ©No, I am as happy as a prince. I have something to do. My studies inâ€" terest _.me!" said Carl, . lookinnig gloomily about the room. : "Ain‘t there anybody else in the house ?" Wharton inquired. Wharton promised readily, and Carl let him up. The shoes were found and put on, and Carl, carrying the lamp, saw his captive before him down the stairs to his own room.. Here. water and towel was used by bothâ€"for Carl found that he was almost as bloody aud quite as tumbled as his antagonâ€" istâ€"then, combed and brushed, they once more sat down and looked at each other. ' _«Wharton, I‘m sorry for you. Getb up and wash yourself; then we‘ll, talk this thing over. But promise that try to get away." _ There was genuine pity in Carl‘s tones, and Wharton was touched. His lips twitched, but he said nothing. No ; I don‘t even remember your name," & "I remember yoursâ€"Martin Wharâ€" ton, isn‘t it? After you left there were a good many inquiries for Wharâ€" ton ? I didn‘t expect to meet you acain in this way." «Did you know I lived. in this house ?" "Because I was a foolâ€"I don‘t know of any other reason." "Â¥es," added Carl; "you went to school where I do for a little. What did you leave for 1" "I don‘t want the chance," replied the intruder, frankly. ‘Judges and juries are apt to take wrong views of things." "I believe I know you," said Carl. "I‘ve no doubt of it ; I know you," replied the burglar. «"May be you can make a judge and jury believe in that," said Carl, sarcasâ€" tically. "Of course,"â€" returned the captive. «©You don‘t suppose I wanted to sleep in my boots!" «Where did you come from !" "My boarding house. 1 gave up my bed to some fe.lows. . I came out on a little voyage of discovery," «You are very considerate !~ No doubt you wore no booss for the same reason." Aund more and more it seemed to Carl that there was something in the face and voice with which he had beâ€" fore been acquainted. "I came to find a place to sleep,"‘ said the rogue, audaciously. "«You were very sly !" said Carl. "Certiioly. I didn‘t want to disturb any one." "I haven‘t thought so far as that," he replied. "Tell me what you were getting in at my window for.‘ In spite of the smears of blood and shortened breath, something in the face and voice seemed familiar to Carl. ««Well !‘. he said at length are you going to do about it ? â€" There was a pause, during which both breathed fast and hard after their violent exetions, and looked steadily ab each other. Carl had judged rightly; his bu rglar was i youth nov more than a year old er than himself; taller, perhaps, but less stoutly built. Not a badâ€"looking youth, either, though his hair was cumbled and his face streaked with blood. He had lost both hat and shoes in the struggle, and his shirt was torn and blood‘y. Up to this time neither had cried out; not a word had been uttered. Then the burglar spoke : "I think I might as well give up !" "I should say it was about time," Carl answered. on his back across the threshold of a lighted chamber, and his captor sitâ€" ting heavily across his body, holding him down by the arms. w aLePr 100 County Chr>nicle, "what Carl ‘looked the suspicious father calmly in the face, and answered, in ‘How did he ha,px.;e;z(;“c;fi on if you had so little acquaintance him? ‘I go to the same school where he went. Ihad no other acquaintance with himâ€"untilâ€"he called on me.‘ ‘Are you one of his crow? the father, speaking sternly efforb at selfâ€"control. . ‘Girls,‘ he said, ‘you may take James out of the room.‘ ‘He closed the door after them, and approached Carl,drawâ€" ing a long breath of anxiety. ‘You mean my son Elwood.‘ ‘Yes, sin,‘ replied Carl, though he had never heard the son‘s first name beforeâ€"at school he was simply called Wharton. ‘I have seen him and talked with him.‘ He was shown into a pleasant sitâ€" tingâ€"room,where a boy of nine and two pretty girls of twelve and fourteen were still making merry over their Christmas presents. The mother sat by smiling with a sad face. . The fathâ€" er, a short, stout man, with a broad, redâ€"whiskered face, presently came in and looked inquiringly at his visitor. Carl opened his business at once. ‘I have come to speak with you about your son.‘ Mrs. Wharton gave a start and an appealing look at her husband. His broad face was visibly agitated as he glanced from Carl to the children. The young student was for a long time too much excited to sleep; and, although he could have lain as late as he pleased that Christmas morning, thoughts of young Wharton, in whom he took a deep interest, rousedâ€" him early. By nine o‘clock, his breakfast eaten and his house work done, he was on his way to the elder Wharton‘s resiâ€" dence. And, after exchanging promises and pledges with his strange visitor Carl let him out of the house by the front door. (Nobody shall know that as long as you let me put faith in you. â€" Now go, and come and see me â€" toâ€"morrowâ€"or rather toâ€"dayâ€"at about noon.‘ ©Yesâ€"but don‘t tell him how I came into this house.‘ ‘I‘ll do all I can for you. But, reâ€" member, you will have the most to do for yourself. T‘ll see your fatherâ€" shall IF He spoke with so much feeling that Carl, thrilling with sympathy, grasped his hand. ‘If you mean that I am to go back to that school, and be at the foot of a clags four or five years younger than T am. . I simply can‘t do it.‘ exclaimed Wharton. ‘If I had a private tutorâ€" if you, now, would only take me‘ in hand. _ T‘d promiseâ€"I‘d promise anyâ€" thing, I‘d do anything.‘ Wharcton, if I didn‘t think you capâ€" ableof better thirgs I would just hand you over to the police for your own good. But I am nct going to do anyâ€" thing of the kind. I am going to be your friend, if you‘ll let me. I1ll see your parents in the morning and bring about a reconciliation with themâ€"I am sure I canâ€"only convince me first that you are in earnest, so that I can convince them, for I never can make them, believe what I don‘t believe my-‘ self? So the two talked for more. . At last Carl said : ‘Well, may be; but the fact is he don‘t beiieve in me any more. . T‘ve promised better fashions too often when he has got me out of scrapes. I don‘t blame him.‘ ‘Yes, and a dused sight better,‘ Whartou replied, and using a much more profane expression. ‘«But how can I ? I cm‘t earn my living, and my father won‘t help me.‘ ©Your father will help you whenever he sees you in earnest to help yourself; now don‘t you think he will? The kindly emotion with which he spoke and which brought tears to his eyes and a tremorto his voice, proâ€" duced a singular éffect on â€" Wharton; who burst out with a strain of profani ty, brushed his sleove across his eyes, and cursed his luck. ‘What can I do? he asked. _ ‘Begin an honest life,, exclaimed Carl.. ‘There‘s no safety or: satisfacâ€" tion in anything else. You know that as well as I do.‘ ‘\Vharton,’wly, you‘re naturally a bright boyâ€"and not a very bad one, I hopeâ€"and, see here, Wharâ€" ton, you ought to do\ something better for yourself, you are worthy of some thing better, I am sure" around, lately, and I can‘t blame km much,‘. muttered Wharton. ~‘He} is tired of getting me out of serapes.. Por, you see, whea I wasn‘t doing die thing, I was doing auother; ]em‘mlg deviltry if not avithmetic. He tdH me if I lefté school he would bhave noth. ing more to do with m», and he h kept his word. _ ‘That put me in a harl place, especially as one of my chom: had been sent to the house of corre« tion and two of them to the refort school. That‘s why I happen to b: out alone toâ€"night. I was hard up. . didn‘t dare to take anything in the house where I board, for L should have! been the first one suspected. T6 was so easy getting out of my attic winâ€" dow, 1 thought I could get into some other in the block and find a pocket book or some table silver. _ I‘m telling you the honest truth this time.‘ _ _ m Thursd crew? demanded sternly, with an to call on you, an hour or 327.\ Dec. 21, 1£598.â€"Page with " But Elwood was not bm: to be a student; he fancied an actie life on board a steamboat or on a raroad,and at Carl‘s recommendation, h was perâ€" mitted to follow his bent. Ie is now a trusted, efficient agent of ne of the largest express companies in he Unitâ€" ed States. His position is ob high, but he is happy in it and all!fis prosâ€" perity he refers and dates ba¢ to Carl 4 x Neqis canp en ound and rush out into his Lrl, wild life once more, But Cerl, | carefully watching him, and joiningyith him in moderate, . healthful reeréion, kept his hold upon him and bright about a complete change in his hbits before the winter was over. private pupil on trial feone month. The experiment wat a gratifying success. . Elwood, sepated from his old associates and brotht under the influence of the genia sympathetic Carl, soon became inter¢ged in studies which he had only detesd before. Elâ€" wood went home to liv he used to visit Carl every evening, ud Carl went to ding with him every dy. That EJ wood had many temptatns to overâ€" come cannot be denied;‘eâ€"was often impatient, | restless, â€" reavâ€"boâ€"civeâ€"un. pare <Well, I will t himbonce more!‘ exâ€" claimed Mr. Wirton, seizing Carl‘s hand. I believ@you are an honest fellow. Make myon an honest fellow, like you, and you place us all under eternal obligation! ‘T‘ll try,‘ said Ci: ‘And see here‘Ve‘re to have a Christmas _ dinneâ€" bring _ Elwood around with you, idâ€"we‘ll talk the matter over," h Then Mrs. Warton spoke up : ‘If this youn man, a stranger alâ€" most to our son,; willing to try him, ought we not bezillino? ‘He was y favorite child,‘ said Mr. Wharton, wh another strong effort at selfâ€"control. ‘There was nothing I wouldn‘t dobr himâ€"nothing I didn‘t do.‘ He ch¢ed and went on : ‘And do you thin, this>â€"Christmas time, when our ‘Oig’r chixd:SB"&?a?i*oufid us and happy, dyou supposeâ€"â€"‘ s But here hquite broke down. ‘I know bheas been in your mind,‘ said Carl. ‘Ad you may besure that you are in his. He knows what kind parents and wit a pleaâ€"ant home he has lostâ€"lost byis own folly. All I ask for him is tha you will give him a. chance to regaithem by good behaviâ€" or." Mré. Whrton ciung to herhusband‘s arm and plided in broken tones the boy‘s cause. R k e se ienae a cce Bat sexcused the suspicions of a father ho had never learned to put faith ithis son or zon‘s friends, and answere, coolly ; tes & Now, how can I believe? how can [ trust him? ; ‘Remember,‘ sobbed out Mrs. Wharâ€" ['-On, standing by his side, bowed, with Hlasped kands, ‘he is our own son!‘ wil But he really needs a litte priâ€" Vb ssistance in his studies first. Let him\ome to meâ€"I‘li teach him, and tepo‘to you faithfully exactly how he is gebthg on.‘ A munth will tell the story You needn‘t even take. him hom{h the meauwhile; but just pay his Bard where he isâ€"that can‘t be much=and give a word of encourageâ€" Lflflll":;‘: me to take back to him.‘ {A‘ghow much pay do you expect for Y?.{* trouble? â€" Mr. Wharton asked insultigly, Carl thought. He lhas made promises enoughâ€"too many promisesâ€" in the past. He has even lied to me. _ He would neither go to school or learn any kind of business, though I‘ve got him places and given Eljm the best chance a boy ever had. ‘He fell in with meâ€"accidentallyâ€" and I asked him to .ny room, where we had a tallk. I think that your son is changed. â€" He makes solemn, and I believe sincere, piedges for future good behavior.‘ The emotion the father betrayed, foite of his efforts to conceal it, was L0f all anger; and Carl was encouraged t follow up the wife‘s appeal with a i“%flg petition in the erring son‘s beâ€" Def, As words which told yet concealed the truth: tlit" |‘There is just one thing,‘ suddenly icluimed the father, walking the room th violent strides, and then standing Wh clenched, raised hand before Carl. (fll he go back to Professor Brown‘s tool? { think that if you knew jast ow h“£ situated there you would ros ask d3 do know..~ It‘s his own fault. I Just that. _ Will he go back? ?‘es, in a libtle“while, I am sure he I Mabonalla 2gc 0t , 0s daCbsDbY muse cles, desire to sleep, failure to be rested by sleep, constipation, dullness of hearing, loss of voice, desire for solitude, excitability of temper, sunken eyes, surrounded withLEapâ€" EN crRCLEs, oily looking skin, etc., are all Symptoms of nervous debility that lead to iDsanity unless cured. The Spring or vital force having lost its tension every function Wanes in consequence.. ‘Those who through abuse committed in ignorance, may be perâ€" manently cured. â€" Send your address and 10 cents in stamps for book.on diseases peculiar to man, sent sealed. Address»M.V.LUBON, 24 Macdonald Ave., Toronto, Ont., Canada.. 10 > Wasting of the organs, dizziness, specks before the eyes, twitching of the muscles, eyelids and elsewhere, bashfulness, deposits in the urine, loss of will power, tenderness of tl;le'sca.lp and spine, weak and flabby mus. Young, old or middle aged, who find themâ€" selves nervous, weak and exhausted, who are broken down. from excess or overwork, reâ€" sulting in many of the following symptoms : Mental depression, premature old age, loss of vitality, loss of memory, bad dreams, dimâ€" ness of sight, [palpitation of the heart emisâ€" sions, lack of energy, pain in the kidneys, headaches, pimples on the face and body, itching or peculiar sensation about the seroâ€" tum, wasting of the organs, dizziness. specks 1i c No e wen MeRes: The first steamer was built land in 1820. The Duchess of Fite is an enthusias tic angler. 3 t dE «0 UCOTS ingâ€"down sensations, periodical pains, ulceration inflammation, and every kinâ€" dred ailment, if it ever fails to benefit or cure, you have your money. back, by the women who are ailing and sufâ€" fering, or weak and exhausted. And, to every such woman, help is guaranâ€" teed by Dr. Pierce‘s Favorits Prescripâ€" tion. For young girls Just. entering womanhood ; women at the critical "change of life"; women approaching confinement ; nursing mothers ; and every woman who is "run down" or overworked, it is a medicine that builds up, strengthens, and regulates, no matâ€" ter what the condition of the system. Tts an invigorating, restorative tonic a soothing and bracing nervine, and the only guaranteed remedy for "female complaints" and weaknesses. In bearâ€" ooo P Well, get a bit of a gicl, arid--&-(;l;;lllvfiud out. . Un the whole, the small girl has the best of it ie Bo ceana y iesns ne shonld seem big to the little creature he is going to marry. "It is very fetchâ€" ing to have one‘s girl say : "Please, dear, my neck gets so tiredâ€"you‘re so tall." Don‘t you know what this means? Then, too, the man in love is inclinâ€" ed to pet names, and he wants to call bis girl "Birdy," whether. she weighs two hundred or not, yet he is not inâ€" sensible to the appropriateness of the title when given to a real little thing. A man likes to feel big, by compariâ€" son at least. _A really large man does not object to seeming nlmost a giant by the girl ofâ€"his heart, and is almost necessary to a short man‘s fEvanity that ESnE baty 1 3 1 U 1 Everything about a small girl is likeâ€" Iy to be a provocationâ€"the unexpectâ€" edly tiny hand, the distracting. mersels of feet, the little head, the little nose. A small girl can be fascinating even in a temper, she can be delicious when sbe cries she can even be lovely, when she pouts, and none of these moods set well on a big waman. It is comfortable when you. hold a girl on your knee to have her head just come to your shoulder, instead of havâ€" ing it sort of hang overâ€"surplus, as it were. The first florins were A small girl is more easily hell and more easily kissed. It is nicer to have to lift her face up by the chin, and it is more epicur an and satisfactory to and satisfactory toâ€"reach down tn the upturned lips, says the Kansas City Star. The short girl has many advantages over the tall one. She has to go through life looking up, and nothing is so brâ€" coming to eyes as that. Her lashes show more, and so does her bair. There are curves of cheek, chin and throat that look their prettiest to a man who must glance down to them. As for Carl, he is pbhysiciaa in his vativ support and~comfort mother, Robson and mas. °0 UCUHWOCALCEILLT \'D’L{';fib::)fi‘}"}//'fl////m> They won‘t smoke any other while they can get Orp Cr:uat even if they have to beg or borrow it, for there is no other tobacco which assures that cool, mild, sweet smoke. D. Ritchie & Co., Manufacturers, Montreal. Eind e 5e C3 They won‘t sn otek s aoke any U====y/)p6 [ td en smact Oe se fng Tcrrns: en %L\i@jflgy/ y * “:fififl%k%?fl !I {! v( ’ ! .-@A, ’/fi,“'\>, oc ALL MEN {nn ies Oe es enna on C tm ol o ’{5';1%‘:,â€"\.‘._,___ SA Alrarmn‘s TA is aimes NP y w RC: «gAllen‘s Lung Balsam v. 1200 _ _ HIGHLY Recommenpep" As a Preventiveâ€"and Cure of all Throa For that Bad Cough of yours "OLD . CGMUMâ€" Xelp Is Wanted. The Short Girk, failure to be rested by dullness of hearing, loss solitude, excitability of , surrounded with LEapâ€" , he is now a successful that memorable Christâ€" vative village, and the in e issued in 1849 of his widowed in Ire of all Throat and Lung Diseases, 2 OL D y Hon.. Wi. E. Gladstons: If asked. what is the remedy for the deepest sorâ€" rows of the human heartâ€"what a man should chiefly look to in his progress through life as a power that is to susâ€" tain him under trials and enable him manfully to confront his afflictions _T must poin: him to something which, in a well known hymn, is called ‘the old, old story,‘ told of in an old, old Book, and taught with an old, old teaching, which is the greatest and best gift ever given to mankind. es English Spavin Liniment removes all ha soft or calloused Lumps and Blew ishes fr horses, Blood Spavin, Curbs, Splints, Ri bone, Sweeney, Stifles, Sprains, Sore a Swollen Throat, Coughs, etc. Save $50. use of one bottleâ€" \Warranted the m wonderful Blemish Cure ever known. â€" S by Ed. M. Devitt, Waterloo, f "Shake my boy," he said. "I‘ve bee looking for a son inâ€"law with some san in his craw, and I guess you‘ll do." . s 0 m ces Dcone e ns Ubsetes 4 It took the old gentleman a minu to recover his equilibrium. When. did be put out his hand. & t ® in shae ing to marry ber sanyhow. but . thought your consent wouldn‘t be a b thing to have as a starter." es Et fecaners o SiiCe tdb en (icki . "But you want me to let you marry her don‘t you ?" asked ‘the old gentleâ€" man, sofcening. #No." ‘No1?" and the old gentleman almost fell off bis chair. _ § "That‘s what I said." 2. The old gentleman thought he had made a mistake. 2. "Then what in thunder do you want?" he exclaimed. To "I want you to give your consent," replied the youth pleasantly. "I‘m goâ€" REFUSE CHEAP IMITA_T!QNQ "But you were going to say so ?" insisted. . "Who told you I was?" inquired applicant, seeing his advantage, 1y Surlight|. The young man ggUfis‘{Ego‘r: on the first jump. ©I didn‘t say so, did I?" he ask "So," he interrupted fiercely, before the youth, had said two words, ‘"you want me to let you marry my daughter, do you 2‘ 5 N Aiicke A , (oc ies ce aoatiemiooa o o as though he were conferring a favor, and when the young man called on the important mission he was ready. for him. He Answered The Peseription. 8 The old gentleman, in is heart; did not object to the young man as a sonâ€" & inâ€"iaw, but he was one of that kind ofs old gentlemen who like to raise object _ ions first and ther. reach an avreement, The old gentleman gasped for cleaning and sweetening, nor for all purposes hands from inâ€" preserving the for purity, nor great comfort Has no equal Women use it SOAP jury, nor for general use. and saver of Laundry and and find it a clothes and eS hn & S «mesk e | uhiÂ¥oâ€"Ate m s Ays ; es us o i o. ? | alsamâ€"ws , pokpmberâ€"â€"*â€"\W\ari _ ung Diégfiées.-_i‘%_ <ig Sud reterâ€"orrmmneâ€"memencmnamenenc e x omm Bs : “-‘ PERRSSADTARRTERSLOEUIAT: : f Millions of Household allâ€"round â€"~ Labor econd wit ed co * u6 the he w B 0 d