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I ttish7Jir, 'i:))?,-. f I f, , 3;}. f,:,),;)?,,?,.?:.;] Wit: "I will not, it you do not like it. But try to feel quite at home and at ease with me, for I shall not intrude upon you long. I know you wish to live alone ---to be alone. When you are quite well I shall go away again out of your life, just as though I had never crossed it Do not hesitate to make the most of my services now, tor I shall not come again until you send for me." "To love mel" she repeated. "Oh! dear Mrs. Neville, never say that to me again !" She shrunk like a sensitive plant; from a coarse touch. “I remember you," she said. "Yon are Mrs. Neville. Have you been with me all the time I have been ill?" " Yes, all the time. You must not be angry with me if I tell you that, during that time, I have learned to love you dearly, as though you were a young sis.. ter of my own." . If You are not feeling werl,wttdon'r Toll take land’s t'stsyrrprytrillsst It will purify and enrxoh fear blood and do you wondertul good. From that day she began slowly to mend. Dr. Fletcher said the arm could not be doing better. The time came when she woke from her long fever, and looked at me with calm. sad eyes. "It peace and her lost love come to her in her dreams, let her dream " ways," I said to myself. It was weak, perhaps, and foolish, but, as I stood there, my eyes were blinded with a mist of hot tears. It was a. sight to touch any true woman's heart. I felt as though I was in the presence of the dead. What strange story was hidden here? What tragedy of warring passions, of unhappy love, of brooding, vengeful pride, had, happened that this bridal cos- tume had never been worn? Toward the dawn ot the morning she was better. She fell into a deep, healthy slumber, and she was happy, poor child, in her dreams; for the first time I saw a tender, beautiful smile play round her lips. She was happy in her dream, for I heard her say _ "My darling Clive, I promise--" Listening to the words, how could I help thinking of that ghostly travesty upstairs-the wedding-dress that had never been worn-tho wreath that was ' faded and dead? Looking at her, I might I have wished that she could sleep on, for I never, during her waking hours, had I ' seen her smile. l It occurred to me that I had seen what was never intended for stranger eyes. Ifer as one who had witnessed a rash hand draw the White sheet from " a. dead face, and leave it exposed to view. I hastened to quit the room, but I could not forget the dismal scene. I knew it was a wedding dress because it was profusely trimmed with orange- blossoms. I could not resist going nearer to look at it, and then I saw that the rich shining folds were all discolored with dust. It seemed to me that it had been hanging there for years. Closer in- speotion showed me that the white had grown yellow. I gazed in silent amazement. It seemed to me that I had been suddenly brought face to face with a dead past-with the dreadful reality of some terrible tragedy. What did it mean, this ghastly wedding Costume-the rich dress, the beautiful veil, the dainty wreath? Why were they left to molder here--to decay in the dust and the sunshine? Had the soft tlowing veil ever covered the face of a fair young bride? Had the wreath ever rested on a fair young head? I found the right room at last-ths bottle, the linen, all as I had been told .--and then went back to Miss Vane, re- solved not to say a word to Jane Lewis or any one else of my discovery. From that moment the beautiful mis- tress of the River House had a new in- terest in my eyes. I could not say that the apparel was hers, but I fancied it was, What strange thing had happened in her past life? What terrible tragedy had blighted her as a cutting wind would blast a flower? I sat up with her that same night; there was new pathos, new meaning to me in her Words, when she held out her hand, saving, "Good-bye, my lost love-good-bye l" On another chair. placed so as to show the exquisite pattern and design, hung I superb wedding veil; that, too, had grown yellow with dust and age. Curi- osity led me to the table. Thereon lay a faded bridal wreath-a wreath of orange- blossoms-a pair of white kid gloves, a dainty lace handkerchief, a white fan with a richly jeweled handle, a withered bouquet, and a bracelet of magnitieent pearls, all placed in order, but spoiled from the accumulated dust of years. such a strange little room it was. It contained one large window, shrouded with white lace curtains, a crimson car- pet, a square table, with three chairs, and over one of the chairs was thrown a wedding-dress, the rich folds of white satin and lace falling upon the floor. There was no curiosity or thought of prying on my part when I wont in search of the bottle and the linen. But it did so happen that I chose the right- hand door instead of the left. The bunch of keys was " large one, and- the one that fitted the little room on the right hand was a small brass key, which evi- dently belonged to a patent lock. "We have made a kind of store-room," she said, "of the small room on the left ot the staircase. You will find linen, lint, and all kinds of useful things there. Here are the keys, Mrs. Neville." A strange incident happened one day. Some peculiar liniment was wanted for the bruised shoulder, and some fine, soft old linen. Jane Lewis was engaged with her mistress, and I offered to go in search of it. She gave me directions. As time sped on the faithful servant began to trust me, to feel oontidenoe in me. She found that I asked no ques- tions, cementing myself with doing what I could, and evincing no curiosity. Whenever Miss Vane raved more than usual, Jane Lewis would look at me with an air of distress, evidently fearing whatl might hear. She did this so often that I went to her atlast and said:-- "Do not be afraid-what I am com- pelled to hear I shall forget." She looked slightly confused. "My mistress dreaded so much lest-" And then she hesitated. "Lest her story should be known," I supplied. "It will never be known, Jane Lewis, through me." _ We had expected a severe illness for Miss Vane, and our fears were realized. As time passed on, everything seemed to become 11nreal-the silence of the house, the rush of the river, the low,sweet voice with its sad story, were all so new to me. There were times when I wondered if I was really the lively, cheerful mis- tress of Neville’s Cross, whose life had hitherto been one round ot busy, active duties. cHAPTER Tr.-a,OTrEl EVERY SI I AND FOLLY SEEMS TO HIDE i ITSEF UNDER THAT WORD. if) (l) tax to: NI as , St T, I I O JI.e I Cc", .,.-"._\~ 5drQ . [", _ a . o . .n _t9E25 CD=r-7=i=T%ruE%E%EEi' Wedding Morn. BY CHARLOTTE M. BRAEME. On Her To m peat sur rrse she took m hand gs I and kisgug it. I [Es-bed like.a 3011501 grr. as she did so, and then she raised her dam Lye“? mr"'-, A .- - -e .. a for Mrs. Neville,“ she "said, "do I, zed. make me care for you-do not teach in I went back to Neville's Cross, and Was pleased to tind that none of my friends or neighbors knew that I had beesnstaying at the River House; they were all content with the explanation I gave that I had been visiting a friend. And then the second phase of my curi- ous atrquaintanoeship began. I went reg- ularly two or three times each week to visit Miss Vane. I took her the rarest tlowers, the most exquisite fruits, all the new books that I could procure. Per- L..-. A... -- ___L ...I .31. . ‘-___J LI,AHI., ,L,. She seemed slightly confused, and then glanced up into my face with the frank. est smile that I had yet seen on her own. "I should like you to be my friend, if you will-to come and see me some- times," Miss Vane went on. “You can perceive that in my short life I have had a great sorrow-so great as to out me off from my kind, to make me hate the sight and sound of almost every living creature, to turn with loathing from all that is fairest and brightest on earth. 1 can not tell you what that sorrow was. You are kind enough not to seek to know it Will you be my friend, yet re- spect my secret, which I choose to with- hold?" "Nothing," she replied. "There are little liteand little motion in my heart .--what can You expect, at my hands?" - So we made our strange compact- I was always to be her friend-to visit her .-to care for her; but I was never to know more of her than I did now. “You will promise to let me live my old life, not to try to draw me from it, never to bring any one to see me, never to ask me to your house, but at times to come and visit; me, content to know no more of me than you do now?" I smiled to myself, thinking of the soul that was strong enough to live with- out love, and that called all love treach- ery. _ "I promise to keep the terms of our compact, Miss Vane, as long as I live." She held out; her hand to me, and as I clasped it in mine, I said to her:-- There was not the faintest gleam of pleasure on her face, such as most girls Show when they are complimented and praised. "I do, indeed. I wish I could see them more busily engaged. What will put more life and busy motion into those lovely hands?" Miss Vane recovered slowly, but sure ly; the pallet of her face gave place tt the daintiest bloom. The time calm when I saw that I could leave her ir safety and that she was on a fair Way m recovery. I told her so one day when Wr were sitting alone. She looked at 1m with wistful eyes. , "You have been very kind to me. Mrs. Neville. You are really a good Samaritan. I am a perfect stranger to you, yet you have treated me as though I were your own sister.” “I will crown my goodness by keeping my promise and passing out of your life, Miss Vane." "Mrs. Neville," She said, "I should like to ask a favor of you." 'U am quite sure thdtlshan grant it,' I responded. "e"'"" BV All “Alum, L muu nu 'leL'i-- "What beautiful hands you have, Miss Vane! I have seen none so perhset in shape and color." "Do you think them beautiful?" she asked, ir11itrym?tlr "Harm always comes of love. I detesI the word. To me it is but the synonym for hatred, treachery, fraud, deceit, and grossest wrong. If we are to be good friends, or even friends at all, have] mention the word 'love' to me again." And I never dared. “Will you be my friend?" said Miss Vane. "I do not feel that I can part from you.” "I will; it is yourself, not your secret, that I care tor." I was startled by her violence, by her fiery pride; but in a righteous cause I was neither to be put down not to bo dtfeated. “Love is the law of nature," I paid. "All things brighten and are beautitied through it. What should we do without the great, infinite love that wraps us round like a mantle, that takes us from earth to heaven, or even mere earthly human love?” "This is a pretty, sentimental Way of looking at a foolish weakness," she said. "Give to everything its proper name. Mrs. Neville. What you call that most foolish of all follies I call treachery There is no love. Men and women de. ceive each other. Men sell their souls for money, or pawn their credit for fame. Women sell what they call their hearts for any bauble that comes first. Love! Every sin and folly on earth seems to hide itself under that word !” I shall never forget the expression of intense scorn and contempt that came over her beautiful face; her lips curled in proud disdain, her eyes flashed. She made no anéwer. I felt more Gt911r- ageouu. , CHAPTER YI..-") DREARIES'] FARCE UNDER HEAVEN." “My dear Miss Vane," I said, ”you will not, hear a love story, you will not hear a love song; do you know that if you shut yourself out from love, you de- liberately darken your lite?" “You are forgetting how weak and ill you are. I will promise anything you like I will not seek to make you care for me, but I will take care of you." From the pallet that came over her face, and the shudder that made her tremble, I knew the words were not aftected, but real. She was pleased when I played and sung to her, but not when I attempted a love song. She would beg of me to cease. One day I took heart of grace, and when she cried out to me I left the piano, and going up to her knelt down by her side “You are prejudiced and unjust, Mis Vane." I did my best during the long weary hours of eonvalese,emm to arouse and in- terest her, but it was weary work. I sent; for a large box of new books and tried to read to her. She would listen for some little time. and then she would turn to me suddenly, and ask:-. "What is that story?" "A love story," I would reply. ' Ah!-then close it. I would rather again undergo all my past suffering than listen to a love story." to like you." "Why not, Miss Vane?" "I will not," she cried; "r--" And then her face grew suddenly pale, and her eyes dim, but not with tears-not until long afterward did I see tears in her eyes; it was rather a mist, as though pride would not let the tears flow. sits-Nr-trite'?.,-,",'?.-,'-:),? a: 'oIJIOI' s'ieri4'ertrir.t. lift I)? It? (a m As time passed, the dark beauty of her face seemed to acquire a new expresA sion. I saw lines of firm endurance. of patimot gravity, deepening thereon, while the power of selt-eor1trol and self-re- straint, the dull, ceaseless brooding over wrong, the fierce rebellion that never found a voice, the sorrow that found no relief_, up gespajr __that in itseilenoe Waterloo County Chronicle, Thursday, htarefi"W,' 1Me--t'age, "It they were, there would be fewer sorrowful hearts in the world," she re- joined. “Oh! Mrs. Neville," she cried, shuddering, "oome away-come away from the sound of those terrible bells!" They seemed to make the old church rock with their. merriment; they filled the air with a joyous clung. But I saw that the sound made my companion ill. She placed her hands over her ears, as though she would fain shut it out, while her lips grew white as death. Back We hastened through the woods until we were beyond the sound of the bells; and presently Miss Vane rested against the little gate that led to the ooppiee-eestod in silence, which neither of us cared to break. There was, to me, something unntter ably sad in the idea of flying from the sweet music of chiming bells, as my companion had done. What a torture memory must have been to her! And then I remembered the ghastly room at the River: House, with the faded wed.. ding garments. "You have tired yourself," I said. She looked at mo, all passion and feel- ing, repressed, as ft were, with an iron hand-the dark, proud beauty appeared more indifferent than ever, "Mrs. Neville," she said, "I will go out with you whenever you wish, but never take me again within hearing of those bells." I promised to remember, and she went home without alluding to the subject again. "It is well that every one is not of yotopiniom Miss Vane," I said. We stopped to look at it, for it made a striking picture, the tall gray steeples standing out in bold relief against the sky, and while we so stood, suddenly there peeled out the merry chime of wedding-bells. I smiled-the sunshine, the clear air, the blue sky, the bells, all seemed so pleasant to me. "Hark l” I cried. "Those are Wedding- bells; some one is being made very happy to-day." She turned her pale face to me. "Happy!" she repeated. "Why, the dreariest farce under heaven is a wed- "It is the dreariest farce under the sun." she insisted-.", mockery in most cases, a cruelty in others, a happiness never." ding idea!" She laughed, and a dreary sound was that came from the young lips. One morning I persuaded her to share with me my favorite ramble through the woods. The day was so fine that we wens further than I had intended, until in the distance- We saw the gray spire of Dain- tree church. I thought then, and I think now, that my young friend's character was the most remarkable I had ever met with. What force of will she must have had at eighteen to give up the world, to turn her face against everything bright and attractive, to yield herself up to a life of sorrow-nothing but sorrow! I often wondered what bitter trial had cut her adrift from her kind, and made all hu- man beings distasteful to her. "My dear Miss Vane,” I cried, startled by her vehepence, "what a strange After that there was no more to be said. I did my best in one way, and that was to direct her attention to every good deed, every earnest life that came under my notice. "Bat my dear Miss Vane," I said-- "pray pardon me-do you not think that eighteen is too early an ace at which de- liberately to set aside all that is best and brightest in lite-to yield one's self to a dull, consuming sorrow?" "No," she réplied. "It' the time and the sorrow were to come again, I should act just as I have done." "At eighteen," I continued, "we feel pleasure and pain acutely. We are either at the height of happiness or in the depths of despair; we are too busy in opening our hearts, minds, and souls to new impressions to give much time to thought. At forty, we realize, reason, analyze, and endure. Has it ever oc- curred to you that every human life is a precious gift, received for some wise purpose? What answer will those make who have to face the Great Giver with their life all wasted?" "My life has been blighted, not Wast- od," she replied, looking at me steadily, "The two things are different." "Nay, my dear, you are wrong. Only age and experience give wisdom. I am older than you by some years-tima has taught me many lessons that you have yet to learn. " "I do not intend to learn more," she mid; "I have learned quite enough." "It is as wise as any other ageI should imagine, Mrs. Neville." "I am almost afraid to say what I think, lest I displease you, Miss Vane. If I have that misfortune, I ask you be forehand to forgive me. Eighteen is not generally considered a very wise age, is it?" "If you do, would you be content to spend them as you have spent the past ones?" “There would be no she replied, shuddering. "And you may live for another fifty years, Miss Vane.” "I may-but I hope that I shall not," she rejoined. What could have happened to blight her young life? The girl's whole soul seemed dead. “Have the years seemed long, my dear?" I asked, gently. That same day, when we were talking, something was said about age, and I asked Miss Vane abruptly how old she was. She was too much surprised for any hesitation, and answered at once ..-- "I am twenty-two, Mrs. Neville." "Twenty-tsfo!" I repeated. "Then, when you came here, you were not much more than eighteen?" "No - eighteen years and a few months." "Longl" she Irispeaiea. "Each one has been an age!" "No, it is the rarest thing for my mir. tress to open her lips. I have known her pass Whole days without speaking. She seems, indeed, to have a rooted dislike to the sound of a human voice; that is the cause of the strange silence in the house. The only time when she seems to be in- terested is when you are with her, Mrs. Neville-she talks to you and listens to you." "Bat does she not talk-talk to yOu--- to any one? , I pursued. It seemed to me incredible that a life should slip from one's grasp in this fashion. "Does she never read, sew, sing, play the piano, draw, paint, or write?" "Never," replied the maid, briefly. "Does she take no delight in flowers/or in birds? Has she not one occupation?” "No," was the reply. "I wish she had." untouchedi but t 11?:th frén16iis6rated with her. "How does Miss Vane spend her time?" I asked of Jane Lewis one day. "In her usual way, Mrs. Neville, when you are not with her. She passes whole days in dreaming and thinking-- sometimes in-doors, sometimes out in the air. She seems to be always watching the Iriver-always listening to it; and she has done the same for more than three years now." ":otqtse3ststtu" lama iiiiii P' other resource, ,, it "Are both dead?". I asked one of the doctors. "No," he replied. "The gentleman seems severely hurt; the lady is stunned, 725m. I,vk-atct?1r-l,il- but? IrtCtl.eRust re: It was a work of almost superhuman diffhtulty to rescurd those inside; more than once We who looked on in breath. le'ss suspense-thot) that the resqners would lose their own lives in the effort. At length the tall figure of a man was brought out, and then a-lady-and it proved that they two were in the car- riage alone. - I stood looking on with Huldah Vane by my side. We had done what we could. I had been attending to a a little child whom we had found. clinging round a dead mother's neck. I thought it would live, but it died in my arms, and was added to the ghastly row on the green bank. Presently there was a cry from one of the carriages that seemed to hang between the bridge and the water-some one signaled for help. Strong men soon set to work. Some of the unhappy passengers were drowned, and their bodies were not recovered for days; but those who remained in the carriages were rescued as quickly as possible. Two or three men were taken out quite dead, and were laid in ghastly order on the green bank. The wounded were not a few. I grew faint as I looked at the forms of the sufferers. Soon there were doctors in attendance-there were brandy, wine. everything that was re- quired. For a few moments I shaded my face with one hand, not daring to look, while Huldah Vane cried out in horror. There in the sunlight, was the terrible reality. Almost immediately I recovereed myself, and, seizing the sculls, rowed rapidly to the scene of the accident. It had been seen by the men at work in the fields; and in the next few minutes willing hands came to render assistance. In less than half an hour the news had reached Daintree, and there was no lack of help. It all happened before we had time to speak-at one moment the train was steaming slowly along, the next there was a crash, a broken bridge, a confused mass of fallen carriages. a thnutie up- roar, and cries of alarm that seemed to rise and cleave the very heavens. The train was running slowly when the engine reached the middle of the bridge, and then the stonework seemed to quiver, to totter, to give way. Sud- denly it parted, and the great engine, followed by three or four carriages, fell into the river, while four more carriages remained on the bridge. We saw the steam among the trees, and then, as the train came nearer to the bridge it slackened speed. We were both watching it intently. How shall I describe the horror that ensued? "Look," I said-"eould you not fancy that it was some great, black serpent with fiery eyes? Yet, after all, there is something grand about it." "I shall" never believe that quick, heavy trains will be safe on that bridge," remarked Huldah Vane. Looking at her, I was more than ever struck with her beauty. She had dipped one white hand into the water, and it gleamed there like a lily. The fresh, bracing wind had brought the bloom to her taeo-had brightened her eyes, and seemed to have driven the sadness from her beauty. It was a face of peerless loveliness. The brow was white and rounded, with dark, straight eyebrows; the eyes were large and dark, with long silken lashes-they were eyes that haunt- ed one with their mystic beauty-proud, passionate, pleading, with gleams of tenderness that brought a golden light into their depths. All the features were perfect, but the mouth was most beat1ti- ful, with sweet, sensitive lips. I thought as I looked at Miss Vane how much I should like to see the calmness of her per- fect face broken. Little did I dream of the near fulfillment of my wish. We rested on the sunshiny river in the fragrant spring calm. Glancing shadows fell over the waters and over the grass. We could see the bridge in the distance. After all, it did not look so very ugly. I was just saying so to Miss Vane, when I saw far away the steam ot the express. “Nowdo own," I -said to myuoompan- ion, "that it is a privilege to live on such a day." One dar-it was toward the end of May-the weather was brilliantly fine, and I went to the River House, hoping to induce Miss Vane to come out with me on tte river. She consented, and the Leir never seemed more beautiful. The sky was blue, the air fragrant with the breath of odorous flowers. Ag We passed swiftly along we saw the gold- en gleam of the laburnums, the purple of the lilacs, the white acacias dropped their leaves on the grass, the banks were studded with starry primroses, and from over the meadows came the scent of the hawthorn. A frost unusually long and severe set in. I mention it because I read afterward that in all probability this frost was the primary cause of the accident. It was followed by a rapid thaw during which the River Leir flooded the whole coun- try-side. After a time the flood abated. What was the cause of the terrible acci- dent no one quite new. Whether the un- usual rush and weight of the water had unused the foundations of the bridge to give Way, or whether it had been inse- curely built from the first, no one seemed quite sure. We stopped just opposite River House to.aflmire the beauty of the day. "I wish I oodld attain your height of calm philosophy," I rejoined. But: that railway bridge was destined to be the scene of strange occurrences. "But it will completely spoil Nevillc’s Cross," 1 observed. “Never mind," she said, "it is not Worth troubling about." "It will not Hatter,” she replied; "I shall mot mind the railway whistle-I shall not even hear it-and you will be far enough away." When I knew what had been decided upon, I went to tell Miss Vane. She ap- peared perfectly indifferent, merely rais- ing her beautiful eyebrows in wonder at my excited tone of voice. I had found her sitting under her favorite cedar-tree, watching the river, with the usual proud, repressed expression on her face. "At least you might pretend to sym pathize with me, Miss Vane," I said. - There wasa strange, far-off look in her eyes. I was very grieved and s'exed--mow the shrill railway whistle would drown the sweet song of the nightingale, and min- gle with the rapid rush of the river. I did not like the bridge, either; it was plain and ugly, with not-hing pleasing or picturesque about it. - I have forgotten to mention that I had suffered some little annoyance in the in- terval of time the events of which I have been recording. One great charm that Neville's Cross had for me was its free- dum from all the evils and nuisance: of a manufacturing neighborhood. No tall chimneys reared their smoky heads near us; there was no railroad warring the picturesque loveliness of the scene; the Daintree line did not Gross the boundar- ies of my estate. But, about two years after Miss Vane had come to the River House, a railway company was formed which promised some extraordinary public benefits, and, after a long resist- ance, I was compelled to sell one of my best t1elds, through which the line was to pass; and then, to my great horror, abridge was built over the Widest part of the river, just above the River House, for by that route the trains were to enter Daintree. CHAPTER VII.--" THE TERRIBLE A CCIDENT. I' 'Whst's the first step toward the digestion of foot l' asked the teacher. Up went) the hand of a. blaelr-huired “We fellow, who exclaimed with e‘gernesn, ‘Bite it off ! Bite it off IA- l, American Kitchen Magazine. ‘Ladies and gentlemen,' he said in a loud voice, ‘I have to inform you that a gentleman present has lost his pock- et book containing fifty pounds. He offers Eve pounds for its return.' Inshanbiy a small man in the back ground sprang npon a chair and cried excitedly, 'Pll give ten pounds,' The auction room was crowded, and the collection of furniture, art and brie-a brae being unusually choice, the bidding had been very spirited. Dur- ing an interval of the sale, a. man with pale and agitated countenance pushed his way to the auctioneer’s side and en- gaged him in a. whisperen conversation. Presently he stood aside, and the suc- lioneer called attention with his little hammer. Jamcs Smith, Dairyman, Grimsby, (hat., writes ', "I was a great sufferer from sciatica. For a time I was com pletely laid up and for two weeks I was compelled to go on crutches. My limbs were almost useless. I tried many remedies without benefit, South American Rheumatic Cure was recom- mended. It took six:bottles to effect a cure, but I am thoroughly cured, and I heartily recommend it as the greatest of tremedies."---) by E. M. Devitt, Waterloo. A Cripple’s Agony. Sciatic Pains made Limbs Use!ess and Life a. Burden-South American Rheumatic Cure Suapped the Pain Chords and Cast Away the Crutcb- el. A peculiarity about blind people is that there is seldom one of them who smokes. Soldiers and sailors accus- tomed to smoking and who have lost their sight in action, continue to smoke for a short time but soon give up the habit. They say it gives them no pleasure when they cannot see the smoke, and some have said they can- not taste the smoke unless they see it. Kidney Sufferers. Be ('.Jonvineed--Therre is Elope--There is a Cure. Most; Wonderful Testimony-Read-- Believe-Live. Clinton Cook, a. well-known farmer, Btouffville P. o. Ontario, writes: "For five years I suffered agonies from acute form of kidney disease, Leading phy- sicians treated me. They relieved me, but proclaimed my case incurable. I took kidney pill! and other remedies with little benefit, and not until I commenced the use of South American Kidney Cure had I any hope of ree0w ery myself. I felt relief after the second dose. I had excruciating pains in my back, was unable to retain my urine. My body was greatly swollen. To-day all these sufferings have disap- peered, and 1 am‘well and strong.- Sold Joy E. M. Devitb, Waterloo, Ont. ario. ' '.Wby dida't you say 'Yes' and stick to it? It is not enough to know your lesson, you must know you know It. You have learned nothing till you are sure. If the world says 'No!' your business if to say 'Yes!' and prove it,' ' "Why,' whimpered I, q recited it just; as he did, and you said 'Nol.', ‘He, too, was stopped with 'Nol' but went right on, firisbed, ind as he sat down, was rewarded with 'Very Well.' ' 'The nextl.'and I Bab -doir, in confusion. . 'I hesitated and then went back to the beginning, and on reaching the same point again 'No!' uttered in a tone of conviction, barred my progress. ‘One'day his cold calm voice fell up- on mein the midst of a demonstration, 'No!' ' 'That lesson must: be learned,' said my teacher in a very quiet tone, but with a terrible intensity. All explana- tions and excuses were trod underfoot With utter scornfullness, ‘I want that problem. I dou't want any reasons why you haven't it,' he would say. ' q did study two hours.' ' 'That's nothing to me. I want; the lesson. You need not study it at all,or you may study it ten hours, just to suit yourself. I want) the lesson.’ 'It was tough for a. green boy, bat it seasoned me. In less than a month I had the most intense sense of intellect. ual independence and courage to de- fend my reeitations. t Henry Ward Beecher used to tell this story of the way in which his teacher of mathematics taught him to depend upon himself. -‘I wasieub to the blackboard and went, uncertain and fall of whimper- ing. - - - _ __ “You would like to take them to the nearest house?" I said, quickly. "That is the River House; let them be driven there at once. Miss Vane will be quite willing." And then, remembering her peculiar- ity, thought it advisable to consult. her. "It is against your: rule, against your wish, I know; but the doctor asm-es me the gentleman's life depends on the ex- pedition with which he can be treated." "Throw the whole house open," she replied. "Iam quite Willng. IfIcan help, let me." A few minutes afterward one of the Daintree carriages was driving slowly with the two rescued passengers to the River House. iiidsred"sorifiMsFfiere, their livés' mig5t be saved." Why the Blind do Not Smoke. A Thoughtful Answer. Self Reliance, Well B i d. (Continued) red And summing up of the list was xermplihed in the death of a life in- umnce agent who died the other day of knows-all-ogy, or enlargement of the uaineutatrtsMttiitttrimr, 'Gaily the troubadour touched his cutarrh,'you will t't member. And that is whatis the matter with the trotrba. dour.--National, It was in a Sb. Louis hotel that B Pike County farmer blew out the gas and died from gtMstritiss.-Meyer Broth ere’ Druggist. Not an} worse than the man struck by an engine; verdict;, died from loco- motor abtaekeia.--Atlantie Mediculand Surgical Journal. The other day a smashup on the rail- way near here an old negro found a broken our full of watermelone. lie ate eight and died of tntslancholera.-- Montreal Pharmaceutical Journal. These remind us of a man who choked while eating a apple, and died of tspplepiexr--National Medical Re View. The death of an ossifled man in Ten- twee is reported. He died hard.- Ohicago Tribune. . 7 Tbié is as bad as a. man who swal- lowed a thermometer and died by de- grees. It also suggests also the con- sumptive undertaker who died a. eodiu. -Medioal Record. Office in the Oddfellow’s Block. Waterloo, Ont. Fred G. Hughes NIS. TDiH1CrRTI?TtiiiyT?- L.D.S., Toronto, '92, D.D.S., Philadelphia, " SPECIALTY: Preservation of natural teeth ' including mounting artitieial cm wns on sound roots, and the insertion of gold bridges to Blur plrd?yuo1tytof m,iysing_tettluwit_hou.tyy plate. Will visit Elmira Dunke’s Block, the second Thursday and Friday and fourth Thuwday and Friday of each month ([‘huraday 1 pan. to Fri- day 1 pm.) 0 DONTUN DER. W. R. WILKINSON, Dentist. 1y"it?ftrfif trnivTGirii,7EihFrtiGt this Cdt legs of Physicians, Surgeons and Aceoucheu of Ontario. DISEASES or EYE AND EAR TREATED. offlee-New residence, Albert street, Water loo, a short, distance north of the late Dr Walden’s residence. Homeopathic Physician, Yatl attention paid to Cntnrrh. Asthma an Chronic Diseases. DES. D. B. & a. H BOWLBY, Puvsxouns, SURGEONS, E10. Dr. D, B. Bowlby. Coroner for the Count Dr G, H. Bowlby treats diseases of the none, throat and ear. Toronto and WQICHOB - V . W. M. READEélIiilA. J. A. Fmagvsorz, B. A 0mm l ('jve,n/i.htjer'itdTltt'o2,"i'v1t,rm (MONEY T0 LOAN.) N. B.--Mr. Reade will reside in} Waterloo and be in charge of the ottlet, " BARRISTERS AT LAW Solicitors in all the courts, Notaries and Conveyancers. Money to lend on Mortgages at lowes rates. offKe--Court House Bari W. H. BOWLBY, MA. LL.B., Q.C.. County drawn Attorney - K _ and Clerk of the Peao COLQUHOU N & MCBRIDE, Barristers.solitoitors, Notaries, &c. 2.0ff1oe--Corter King and lilrh Streets, Water. loo, over old Post Office. ALEX. MILLAR. uc. HARVEY J. Bras, B.C.L. Barristers, Solicitors, Notaries, etc. otJyyv. Upstairs Economical Block, King St., W est. Berlin. - Barrister. Solicitor, Notary Public, Con veyancer. etc. Money to loan at lowest rates of interest. hummer; Comnnovxv. A. B. MCBRIDE bFFiéE E tyGaiiGr'iyda,isi.iiT. "eh "Ts/iii.' PROFESSIONAL . . . CARDS. Telephone communication I II. WEBB M D., . Coroner County of Waterloo- Offrtsa-At his residence on Erb streeb. Telephone communication. (Money to loan.) Office Killer’s Block. Waueroo Ont. E. P. CLEMENT. AMES c. HAIGHT {ERG USON_& READE! OWLBY Sc CLEMENT R. u. T. NECKEB, MEDALLIST. 9F To. ft. HETT. ILLaR & AIMS. 1. W. L. HILLIARD . . . For the painless Extraction of teeth om " hours from 9 a. m. to 5 p. m. 105 King Street West, Berlin, Ont. Licentiate of the College of Physicians, Surgeons and A woucheurs ot Ontario. Residence and ottioe on King Street. Opposite Woolen Mills - Phone 210. ., EVANS, L. R. C. P., Ireland; M. D., C. M. Trin Univ.; M. C. P. B. O. Licentiate ot ,Meilcal Council, Great Britain. Speci utr-Diseases ot Wo. men and Surgery. Calla day or night ptomptgly upswqre'g: ' N a WELLS L. D. s. c. W WELLS, D. D. s., DR. McLEAN, From Gay to Grave. BEEWEREeFé Biock, Conestogo. UN King street east, Berlin. off1ee and Residenee-John street Bil-6565', *Solicitors, Notaries - -Cunyeytuteers etc. MEDICAL. DENTAL LEGAL. DENTISTB, WATERLOO. Itltltiitjtltt “luv " ' - - - -ica Sal BiST Et1RTAtlttMIteANtt MEN; House and Sign Painter Waterloo. A commercial school where the equipment and teaching are j usL what your boy or girl rev quires to fit them to enter commercial life. It you are interested wnte to the for circulars. afoderkii." KNITTING ' . IT PAYS TO ATTEND go 00 Henry Maier.' Prices as low as at ans thar place. Hello There! ~* Iy'fii'f,yiefleeftel, & CO. Fire2 Accident and Life Insurance Agents. represtspting the .best Stock and Mutual Oom- panies doing busmess in this Province. Fancy Bread, Buns, Rolls, and Fume! Cakes always on hand. HERBERT J. BOWMAN PROVINCIAI Land Surveyor. Civl Engineer and Draughtsman, Graduate of the Ontario School of Practical Science, and late assistant to the York T'p Engineer on the construction of Pub. xc Works and the sub-alvision ot lands in the ubprbs of Toronto. Teacher ot Piano and Organ PUPIL of A B. Vogt ot the Toronto Conn _ vytory of Mpgic, late, of Leitpde,s%trrmsnr Uri.” UL n c. T 050 UL but! 'MrMMIN3 UUH'U l' vatory of Music, late of V8rPlNeteter, Pupils prepared for the tirat'and second y l examinations in Piano at ,the Toronto Con. servatory of Music. Residence, - - Albert St. Such as Oil Painting, Paper Hanging, Kalsomining, Tint ng, eta, nea 1y executed. Church Decorating a specialty. Addreu care of B. Niergarth, Wateri, lrCDiE%-iiggggi? Trunks, Valises, Dusters, Sweat-pads, Sanderson's Bakery First-class rigs and Food reliable home. Two and three seated camages always in readiness. All cells promptly attended to and charges moderate. omtaty and Livery in rear of o Zimmerman House. Entrance on King esteem next to Fischer’s butcher Mum. LIVERY AND EXCHANGE STABLE? GEO. Suoem, Proprietor. All kinds of conveyances constantly on hand. Charges moderate. Stables in rear of the Com mercml Hotel. MISS ANNA R. BEAN House and Sign Painter. EMIL F. BRAUN ' QIMON SNYDER, - Opposite the Market squire. An easy shave, a stylish hair cut, a good sen cam, an exhilirtrtiaig shampoos La. mf and hildren a hair out. oiBoe- tjtruFtrraitm. Berlin. AN? classes. Individual instruction. Rates A handsomely 1lHurtrtrtesd woony. W dr- culnuon of my tt'it"U'N','th rum. " I may nggr pom I. " I a by: I__uwnd_a_nlau_. - -iigGriG iiiéh' EEK-6i? "tiiiiisi' I1 mogul notice. wltpout 0 339' In tht Tun: "All. Damn. . COPYRIGHT! ta. Anyone sending n sketch and audition my quickly “certain our opinion mo w can a Invention in gr,gtgt12tt'aittht; W,',T,'gtl','tt tloqsgtrlctlx gonadal“ ._Hnndho_okog A Ire" BEBE-66f Dua-t- iiiairrrtirrriunrrtjW, _ can Pssty1tt1psMsq Egrough Many; WTI'., 'ill,'!'!!,'!',!,?,'",,"!,)?),",',',') itri,icii)ii,iilji.ili ranch oeoe. a . th.. Vanuatu, D. . Cheap Harness John Strebel's, y - - -- - -IGiii;r. 0 Marriage Idealism. Otm3e-At his Drug Store. Waterloo. [OHN L WIDEMAN, Issuer of Marriage ”ceases. ottlee--Ptmt 011100. St) J mobs. Ont. Asif YOUR DEALER FOR Charles N. Rockel IOEHLMAN'S BARBER SHOP. $diiitffk 'Hmerical. Brrormiautorrqrr, iGiGi, $5665 I an. TrsrhtsWitif, nit: Livery, Sale and Exchange Stables. A fall line of knitted goods such a Ladies’, Geata' and Children’s Hose coarse and fine yarns. fancy goods etc kept on hand. A call Wind. (guil’ph aéuoineoo Goffcge W. A. KUMPF, VETERINARY SURGEON. Now Is Tme Tum F03 MISCELLAN EOUS King St. Waterloo. Waterloo, Ont. DECORATOR. LIVERIEB. an, Wm Ruvuo, (mo. A. Baryon. ' WAT ERLOO and Paper Hanger - Ontario MISS STRiCKLAND. J. Sharp, Principal was: