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Mrs. Lane closed the book. ‘‘Be careful for nothing,‘‘. she repeated solemaly; _ ‘Miranda Ellen always reâ€" member that ; don‘t try to carry the troubles of the world on your shoulâ€" ders when you grow up. The verse is no expty command, Abh, I wish your father looked av things differently ; I wish he did.‘ > All this had happened some months before, but Miranda bhad never forgotâ€" ‘Read that, my dear,‘ she said quietly, Miraoda Ellen obeyed. ‘<‘Be careful for nothing, but in all things with prayer and supplication, with thanksgiving, let your requests be made known unto God ; and the peace of (God, which passeth all underâ€" standing, shall keep your hearts and minds through Obrist Jesus.‘ ‘ With Silas Lane‘s morbid nature, then, it was not to be wondered at that be fell an easy prey to the blues. And this he did often, and the worstb of it was, his littleâ€"family could never be sure just when and how they would rthack bim. One day when her father had beon fretting for days.over something that bad occurred to try him, Mrs. Lane took Miranda Ellen on herâ€"lap, and taking up the Bible, turned to the 6th and 7th verses of the fourth chapter of Philippians. ‘‘O) her than mine,‘â€"that‘s the way brue Ohristians feels, Miranda Ellen. They don‘t try to do all the rowing themselves. _ I‘ve known some that were greviously afflicted, andâ€"how they bore it ! In the same spirit that Paul took his scourgings. _ Ab, my little girl, your father lacks the grace of God in ‘his heart, that‘s what ails him.‘ ‘Ofall btimes,‘ thought Miranda Ellen disconsolately, ‘why should they come toâ€"day,; when © everything is so lovely audâ€"winter is over !‘ By long experience Miranda Ellen became an adept in detecting the first symptoms. _ She always said she could tell by her father‘sâ€"walk, and in justice to her discernmront it must be said she was almost always right. Nothing much about the farm escaped her sharp young eyes. _ Mre. Lane‘s face grow sad. ‘Miranda Elen,‘ said she slowly, ‘the matter with your â€"father is, that he doesn‘t brust God enough ; he thinks he does, but he does not keep the heavy part of life‘s burden resting continually on our Greab Helper. _ Why, we who love God should be the happiest people in the world, Miranda Ellen, See if you can repeat this verse after me : «‘Whatâ€"is the matter with father? asked Miranda Ellen one day of her mother when they were alone together. In her youth she must have looked very much like her little daughter. She bad the some clear honest eyes, the same reddish tinge to her hair, and in spite of the sixteen years of wedded life with a man of Silas Lane‘s temperâ€" ament, she felt still at times the promptings of the same bounding spirit that had characterized her youth. But these feelings never came in her husband‘s presence. _ When he apâ€" peared upon the scene of action, the atmosphere of things was changed. To him "life was real, life was earnest,‘ and was a matter not to be trifled with. He never looked at things in a cheerâ€" ful, optimistic frame of mind, but always took a gray and somber view, quite forgetting to search for the silvyer lining to his clouds. Everything was always as bad as it could be ; he had & barder time than any one else ; the wirld was wrong, the people were wrong ; all was wrong. + Mrs.â€"Lane cropped her spoon and looked up. ‘Ob, I hope not, Miranda Elen! she answered in an anxious tone. _Mirand&a took & longer look, then turned, disapperring within the house. Her mother sat by the south sitting room window stirring a cake for tes, and to her Miranda Ellen betook herâ€" self with speediness, ‘Motber,‘ began she, breathlessly ‘father‘s got the blues again,.‘ It was a beautiful day, she thought. Miranda Ellen had been fourteen her last birthday. She was a short, plump little girl, with two thick braids of reddishâ€"brown hair tied with crimson ribbons;, truthful gray eyes and a dear little nose adorned with a few healthy freckles. As she stood there in the fall rays of the afternoon sun, in her youth and freshness and innocence, the old kitchen door framed a pretty pisture, but of course Miranda Eillen did not know that. Some one else did, however, for abt that moment her father came slowly towards the .house from the direction of the barn. _ Mirâ€" anda gave a look at her approaching sire, then the light slowly faded from her face, and her eyes grow wistful. He was a tall man, erect and thin, with.melancholy eyes and a sober face, severe almost to sternness, and he had a listless, dejected walk as if there were nothing in this world to hope for or enjoy. BY SUSAN HUBBARD MARTIN. Miranda Ellen stood in the kitchen door, and looked off towards the fields. Although in was eariy,very carly spring already there was that mild softness to the air that proclaims the banishnent of winter. Over hillside and valley lay a faint emerald tinge, that later on would resolve itself into one vast carpetb of brilliant green. THE CHEERINGâ€"UP OF SILAS LANE., Ibt was a pleasing prospect to Mirâ€" anda Ellen, weary of a long season of ice and snow and short, cold days. Sson there would be little violets and crocuses peeping out to meet the kisses of the blue sky and healthâ€"giving sun, acd Miranda Eillen knew where to find them, every one. "My bark is wafted on the strand My breath divine, And on the hel nâ€"rests a Hand Other than mine." The evening of the 2l1st came at last, Miranda Ellen thought it never would come, but it did atb last, and Dest of all, hor fabher suspected nothing. The invitations were all given the next day, and all accepted, every one of them. There was an air of sup pressed oxcitement about Mirandsa Ellen and her little mother in the days following. The old farm house was put in order from top to bottom, and in the kitchen arose a mighty bsating of egge and suggestive odors of "sugar and spize and everything nice." Mrs. Lane looked thoughtfully for & moment, then she turned to Miranda Ellen. ‘We‘ll try it little, daughter,‘ she said gently ; ‘it won‘t do any harm, and it might do some good. The 21st â€"well, that will give us time enough.‘ ‘Who will you invite? asked Mirâ€" anda Eilen, interestedly. ‘Tho minister anud his new wife,‘ answered her mother, brightening up a little. ‘Mr. and Mrs. Burgess and the two boys. We must Have them, and we‘ll ask the boys to bring their manâ€" doline and guitar ; they‘re born musiâ€" cians, both of them. _ And we‘ll? have Mr. Harrison and bis wife, and the Lses and the Bertrams, andâ€"oh, yes, we must not forget the Eversetts ! Your favher thinks a good deal of old Mr. Everett; he boarded with him when he was a young man. _I musb hurry up to morrow with the cake baking Do you think it will cheer him up, Miranda Ellen ? I‘m sure it will,‘ answored Miranda firmly, with all the confidence and enthusiasm of youth. Her mother smiled in spite of her tears, and Miranda Ellien went on. ‘Do say yes, mother! T‘ll put every cent of my money toward it, and help you all I can. We‘ll surprise the blues so much that maybe they‘ll go away and never come back,.‘ A bright thought suddenly struck Miranda Ellen. _ ‘Mother,‘ she cried excitedly, ‘let‘s give father a surprise party ! His birthday comes on the 21st, just a week off and it would be a birthday surprise party. I was going to give him the ‘Life of Washington,‘ â€"I‘ve enough eggâ€"money saved up now to buy itâ€"but I believe the party would be better. I don‘t believe the stirring adventures of even the ‘Father of His Country‘ would cheer father up. He thinks every winter he goes through is as bad as the one at Valley Forge.‘ ‘I‘ve always loved your father, Mirâ€" anda Eilen,‘ she sobbed brokenly. ‘It hurts me to be treated in this way. He‘s unbappy too! Oh, I wish he looked at things as other peeple do ! I‘ve sometimes thought, Miranda Ellen,‘ went on Mrs. Lane, turning ber tearâ€" strained face to meet her child‘s symâ€" pathetic one, ‘I‘ve sometimes thought the farm wasn‘t a good place for your father. The winters are long and solitary, he sees but few people, and he feeds too much on his sad, morbid thoughts, His bome is no joy to him, and his wife and chid afford him no comfort. In some way he ought to be brought to see the many blessings God bas given him. He needs a thorough rous‘ngâ€" & vigorous cheeringâ€"up, a complete lifting out of self. To Miranda Ellen‘s surprise, her mother dropped the flower sifter (she had been mixing bread), and burst into tears. ‘He‘s gone to bed, mother,‘ she whispered eagerly ; ‘be just now went up stairs... . _ _ _ 2 > Under the influence of his gloomy countenance, Miranda Eillen‘s chatter finally ceased. Mrs Lane‘s face grow more andâ€" more troubled, and her hands trembled visibly as she cleared away the almost untasted supper. In a few minutes he aross, opened the hall door, and a second later Miranda Ellen bheard him go heavily up stairs. Her mother was busy in the pantry, and she crept to her side with a reâ€" lieved face. Her mother smiled a sad little smile. ‘Open the peaches if you like, child,‘ she answered. ‘Oh !‘ cried the little woman, suddenly, burying bher face in her hands, ‘if there‘s one thing above all things in the world to be especially desired, it is a cheerful disposition !‘ A moment afterward, the door opened and Silas Lane came in. He did not look in the direction of his wife and child, but walked toward his chair, took it and stared into the fire in gloomy silence. *Don‘b feel bad, mother,‘ she whispâ€" ered comfortably in her sweet, fresh young voice. ‘Perhaps things will be better by and by.‘ ‘Are you sick, father ? asked Mrs, Lane, timidly. No answer. A swift look of intelligence passed between Miranda Elen and _ her mother. â€" The child had been right as usual, Mrs. Lane thought sadly, Silas bhad the blues again after all. He ate very little of the nice supper prepared for him so carefully that evening, and yeb ib was a sight to cheer the most unthankful and melancholy of men. The table was seb so nicely and neatly, and there was sliced bham and tes, bread and butter, pickled peaches and sponge cake. The lamp light fell over the pretty, neat little room, bringing out the redâ€"brown tints of Miranda Ellen‘s bair, and lighting up her sweet, sober little face. But it was all of no use ; like a skeleton in the closet, thg blues were there, and they had evidently come to stay. ‘hay I open a jar of pickled peeches for supper !‘ asked Miranda Ellien a fow minutes later. _ ‘Father likes them so much, and T‘ll sst the table as nice as ever I can; perhaps those dreadful blues won‘s be so bad after all.‘ ten it. Sbe was thinkingfof it now as she stood by her mother‘s side watchâ€" ing the progress of the cake. _ _ â€" Well, woe must have patience, dear. Your father loves us and loves God, if only he would keep the love upperâ€" most in his beart.‘ Miranda Ellen went over and kissed the downâ€"bent head. ‘Ain‘t it too bad mother,‘ she said plaintively, ‘that father does not look at the sunshine and the green fields It almost spoils everything, doesn‘t it ? The last guest had departed. Silas Lane stood at the door, his wife by his side. The moon hbad rison, and by its bright silvery rays the usual stern severity of his face seemed chastenedâ€"softened. â€" Far across the fiolds vame the plaintive, harmorious But what a joyous time they did have at that birtbday féast, and how sorry they were to go home afterward ! But it came to an end, as all good things will, and at length the last good byes were spoken, and the cheerful little company took their leave with warm hand clasps and the wish of many more happy birthdays for their host. A hushed silence followed the conâ€" clusion of the little song, much more eloquent than applause, and there were tears in every eye. After that, the Burgess boys played together, then supper was announced. _ The long table stood spread with the whitest of glossy cloths, fairly weighted with a host of good things. There were sandwiches and pickles, and amber coffee served with the yellowest of cream ; there were fruitâ€"cake and frosted white cake and chocolate cake and ice cream. â€" Everything there"had been made by Mrs. Lane‘s capable bands, for this was a little country bhome, near to a little country town, and little country towns in general do not boast of ‘chefs‘ or confectioners or colored waiters ; and if they did, I am afraid Miranda Elen and her little mother could not have afforded to hire them. As for Silas Lane, ho was stirred, lifted clear out of his environments. Under the sweet, thrilling cadences of that wonderful voice, his old mental shackles seemed to fall away, even as did the material bonds of Paul and Silas in the prison, ages and ages before. _ ‘Homeâ€"sweetâ€"home !‘ Had had be not the dearest one in the world ? And yet all these years he had gone on his way blindly, untbhankfully, reaching out for the things denied him, neglecting to give praises for the greatest blessing of all ! The sweebt and tender melodies of the mandolin and guitar blended together in & short little prelude, then the minister‘s wife, with her hands clasped loosely before her, began to sing. She wasa slight young creature, wivh the sweetest, most tender of faces, and a voiceâ€"ah, a voice like a lark‘s or a whole family of nightingales ! She sang the old familiar song from beginâ€" ning to end, in a way bhat moved and thrilled all hearts. She carried her little audience with her as she sang, and more than one roughâ€"handed farmer drew his handkerchief across his eyes as memory called up the picture of a home whose circle would never be completed in this world again. Magical, touching words â€" ‘Home, Sweet Home,‘ whose utterances from the lips of song never fail to move the heart ! Tke minister‘s wife gozed thoughtâ€" fully at the little throng before her. She was cityâ€"born and bred and her list included many a difficult and intricate song and aria, but as she looked into the plain, earnest faces of her young busband‘s congregation, she felt instinctively that the nearer she kept to nature, the better she would please. _ What should it be? Saddenly an inspiration came to her. Perhaps an angel may have whispered in her earâ€"who knows ? She looked at Lawia Burgess with a bright smile. ‘P/ay me an accompaniment to ‘Home, Sweet Home,‘‘ she said in a low voice. ‘The minister‘s wife‘s going to sing,‘ whispered Miranda E len to her father. ‘Listen carefully, father ; she does sing so beautifully.‘ The ministers smiled down upon the young musicians. ‘What shall we play ?" whispered Lowis. All unokbown to Silas Lace, the parlor fire was burning briskly, the house was lighted, while out on the back porch was a big, generous freezer of ice cream. _ The extra leaves bad a)l been put into the dining room table, and _ as _ Mrs. Lane _ journeyed from _ pantry _to _ kitchen, _ she surveyed her well filled shelves with true housewifely pride. That minute there was a knock at the front door, and the very next thing in trooped a file of merry peopleâ€"the minister and bis wife and a whole host of old friends and neighbors, _ They all gathered about Silas Lane, and wasn‘s he surâ€" prised ! The minister was the first one to take his hand in his own warm, cordial clasp. ‘A happy birthday |‘ he cried morrily ; ‘ab, we‘ve taken you by aurprise, sure enough. â€" This nice little girl of yours, though,‘ he added, pinchâ€" ing softly Miranda Eilen‘s rosy cheek, ‘knew all about it, I am sure.‘ _ What a good time they did have, to be sure ! There was no room for Silas Lane‘s old nature in this goodly comâ€" pany, and right gladly did he banish it. _ The old farmâ€"home brimmed over with happy faces, and its old walls resounded with such merriment! There was music and talking, with such an interchange of goodâ€"will that it cheered all hearts. There was an expectant hush when Lewis and Paul Burgess each took up his mandolin and guitar. Miranda E lea slipped into the room a minute later in her Sunday dress ; ber cheeks were pinker than ever, and she wore her best hair ribbons and her mother‘s little gold locket. Silas Lane looked at his little daughâ€" ter with suddenly awakened eyes. How pretty, how very pretty the child was growing ! hbe thought. She reminded him as she stood there with her clear, candid eyes and pink checks, cf her mother as she had looked to him eighteen years before. _ The mother‘s roses were gone now, and her hair was tinged with gray, yebt she had never seemed so dear before, neither she nor Miranda Eilen. Something very like a tear glistened in her eye, and he turned with a full heart to greet his cuests. ‘Yes, sir,‘ answered Mirarda Eillen, demurely, ‘mother and I planned it.‘ Half past seven arrived, and he re paired to the sittingâ€"room, as was his wont, as taciturn and moody as usual Waterloo County Chronicle, Thursday, July 7,1898â€"Page 6 The average walking pace of a heal thy man or woman is said to be seven by five steps a minute, m & Husbandâ€"How so ? Wifeâ€"Well, you frequently get up and offer me your chair now. Before we were married you always wanted to keep half. The dignified woman never has any complaint to make of familiarity on the part of men with whom she comes in contact either socially or in business life. _ Her dignity is a shield against insult and the brightest jewel in her crown of womanly attmbutes. The dignifed woman of necessity 1 esd not be so frigid in her demeanor as to be repollent, but she can be possessed of a winsome sweetness all her own. which is emphasized by the quiet calm that is the outward evidence of mental equiâ€" pose. The flippant badinage which so many woman think atbractive to the other sex fails to win balf the admiraâ€" tion that is accorded the quieb dignity of the one who never allows herself to lapse into any familiarity of speech or action on which a false construction might be placed. _ If nature has not endowed woman with this commendâ€" able characteristic, it is well to set about its cultivation at once, for it is a well known fact that ib is quite as easy to train a set of manners as a set of morals, and as the attribute of dignity can be classified under both headings it is casily seen what rare advantages must accrue to the woman who claims it for her own.â€"Philadelphia Times,. Wifeâ€"There is no doubb about ib, marriage doesimprove a man‘s politeâ€" ness. With this attribute there comes natâ€" urally that peculiar reserve essentially attractive in a woman. It is all very well to admire in the abstract the fluffy, kittenish sort of a woman, but a man demands in his wife above all else that reserve of manner which commands and receives respect. Of all the virtues that a true womâ€" anly woman should possess to rise in the estimation of the average man, dignity is generally conseded to be the leader. ‘Your blues are gone, aren‘t they, father ¢" she cried joyfally. ‘I knew the party would do it. You‘ve found out that there are some goo1 things in the world, haven‘t you, father ? There‘s motherâ€"and‘ (with a little roguish smile) ‘there‘s friends, and ob, lots of things ! Miranda Ellen turned and waved a napkin in triumpb, then she came back and put her arms around her father, her eyes shining. ‘It is so sweet to have love and home an© Jesus,‘ she murmured. ‘And we‘ll all stand close together in God‘s bsautiful sunshine, won‘t we, fabher.‘ ‘God helping us, little one,‘ was the reply. 5 ce And as the days went by it was to be noted that the cheering up of Silas Lane was an accomplished fact. Miranda Ellen bad her hands fua of disbhes when they suatered, but sh set them back hastily on the tabl when she saw her father‘s f:ce, and flow into his arms,. Her fathor smiled as he stroked his child‘s hair. ~â€"‘Yes,‘ he answered slowly, his lips quivering, ‘I have found out, Miranda Ellen,.‘ A wave of tender emotion stirred the heart of Silas Lane. The p‘ain little farmâ€"bouse seemed invested with a sudden glory, the future held joys for him he had not dreamed of. He held his hand out to his wife, ‘Come,‘ he said gently, ‘let us go in to Miranda Ellen.‘ As husband and wife stood there in solemn silence,they could hear Miranda Ellien moving energetically about in the dining room ; hear her gathering up the platss and cups and saucers But above the little clatter that she made, her voice rose clear and fresh as youthful voices always are. ‘Home â€"homeâ€"sweetâ€"sweet home,‘ sang Miranda Ellen â€"blithaly, ‘beâ€"itâ€"ever â€"so bhumbleâ€"there‘s no placeâ€"like â€"home.‘ ‘I thank you, Ellen, for this bappy birtbhday,‘ he said buskily. ‘I haven‘t deserved it. I‘ve not been good to you, I‘ve shadowed your life, I‘ve caused you many a tear. Ab, I know it too well! But I‘ve had to fight against an evil disposition all my life. Why, it seems to me" (his voice broke a little) ‘that I was Siul toâ€"night, and that the minister‘s wife, with her sweet voice, was David. I believe the old nature was driven out, Ellenâ€"I pray God that it is, I‘m going to take Him into my heart from this day forth and ask Him for grace and strength to conquer solf. I‘ve been blind, someâ€" bow, to all my mercies, andâ€"how pretty Miranda Ellen is growing ! Have you noticed it? I‘m proud of the child. You must help me to be a betâ€" ter father to her than I‘ve been. TI‘ve done so many, many wrong things, I‘m afraid I can never right them E‘len. I can‘t unless God helps me.‘ Silas Lane closed the door and took his wife in his arms. His beart was warm still with the greeting of his old friends, warm with anew sorb of joy and thanksgiving that had come to him tbat night. The gloom and morbiduess of his being was disarmed, broken up, overcome. > Mrs. Lane drew close to her husâ€" band‘s side. (‘‘My grace is sufficient for thee‘,‘ she whispered softly. y strains of the Burgess boys‘_ mandolin and gui ar. Lowis Lane bent his head to listen and caught the words : ‘Home â€"homeâ€"sweetâ€"sweetâ€"homeâ€"be it â€" ever â€"so â€" bumble â€"there‘sâ€"no placsâ€"like home. Farther, farther, farther sounded the music ; the voices were dying away ; the Burgess boys were almost at their own gate. ‘Home â€"homeâ€"sweetâ€"sweeb home,‘ swept faintly across the fields, sweet with the breath of spring, then all was silent. Womanhood and Dignity. The man who stands idly by rnd sees the life fading out of his wife‘s face, sees her health guing, sees her beâ€" comirg old and faded and wrinkled when she shou‘d still be in the perfect enjoyment of vigorous, useful health, is either less than a man or else does not know cf the one remedy which will bring her back to health and s:rength. Perhaps her husband cannot persusade her to go to her doctor, because she naturally dreads the inevitable "cxamâ€" inations" and "local treatmeuts", He can persuade her if she needs persuasâ€" ion, to take Dr. Pierce‘s Favourite Prescription. _ This truly wonderful medicine has cured hundreis of women after the best physicians h ave failed, It has bsen in constazt use and tested every day for thirty years. It isn‘t an experiment, thereare no chances about i6, It is a certain cure for all derangeâ€" ments, weaknesses, irregularities and displacements of internal organs pecâ€" uliar to women. Judyâ€"Ab, Dinnis, it do be shtrange to hear ye talkin that way, whin it was yersilf that usted to be tellin me that Oi was the shwatest craychure in the wurruld. Dinnis=â€"â€"D.d Oiiver till yez that, Jady ? Jadyâ€"Iâ€"dadg an yo did, D‘nunis ! Dinnisâ€"Begorrs, an ef that‘s so, thin Oiinvy mesilf the cindition Oi musht hev be‘n in atb the to‘me.â€" Richmond Dispatch. It is difflicalt to decide what is the best age for a girl to marry, for some develop, both mentally and physically, much earlier in life than others. Ste should have good judgment and opporâ€" tunity of meeting and associating with a variety of dispositions, or she cannot be expected to be able to judge human nature even fairly well, therefore, in my opinion, a girl stould not marry youngâ€" er than 25 years of ago. Before that ago a girl thinks more of the personal appearance of the man she goes with, while after that age she is more apt to consider the keeper. They all come from worry, from borrowing trouble, from _ crossing bridges before you get to them. The Scriptures tell us that seven devils were cast oub of Mary Magdalene. Now I haven‘t Scripture authority for my statement, but nevertheless I give it unbesitatingly, the worst one of the seven was Worry.â€"Clara Goodal Sanâ€" ford, in Golden Censer. When are you going to cease To freb thy soul ‘with crosses and with cares ; To eat thy heart through comforb‘ess despairs /‘ When are you going to be happy, if you are always borrowing trouble about what may be or might be ? You will cortaioly be cast down when the trials overbtake you, and if you epend all the rest of your time in looking for their advent, what space have you left in which to be at ease and peace? Go, look in your mirror. Do you ses that colony of wrinkles between your eyes, the downward curva to the corners of your moutbh, and that foreboding, anxious gleam in your eye Did your worrying evercure sickness, ward off trouble, or reform the world ! Did it ever make you stronger and better able to meet trouble when it came? For come it will into all our lives, and anxious anticipation helps it not a whit, They are a very foolish prir, and their friends often seek them out, if they can find them, and expostulate with them ; yet for some reasonâ€"some unseen power that seems to drive them with a force which they are unable to resist, they continue to stumb‘e, with many a fall, along their self destroying way. Miss Borrow Trouble, day by day, grows more despairing and more apprehensive. Bridges no longer meet her views, and she talks wildly of balloon and flying machines by which to cross her unseen, but dreaded Niagaras,. Madam Nervous Prostraâ€" tion grows gaunter and weaker, and trebles Miss Borrow Trouble‘s burdens. Who are this silly, sorry pair . Why, they are you, my dear Fretter, when you worry over your house lest it be not suffciently well kept, or finely enough furnished ; when you worry over your husband lest his wealth fail, or his business go wrong ; when you worry over the thousand and one things that might or might not happen to your children ; when you worry over your absent friends, or your own comâ€" ings, loog and short ; when you worry over your church, its deeds of om‘sâ€" sion ; when you worry over the degenâ€" eracy of the times and declare everyâ€" thing to be going to the dogs. Miss Borrow Trouble and Madam Nervous Prostration are twin sisters that walk through life hand in hand. They never kiep to the broad highway if they can find some balfâ€"broken byâ€" path over which to stumble. Their chief delight is to find a stream that rushes in torrents over rough stoves, or & canyon with sides too steep to be accessible ; for then they needs must cross & bridge, and it is ‘bridges for which they are looking. Probably by keeping close to the bauk of cliff vhey may find several of their favorite sbructures and thus be enabled to cross and recross the same barrier many times ; and the frailer the bridge the better the twins seems to be pleased. Misa Borrow Trouble al ways suggests the road to be followed, and does all the ta‘king about the dangers and inâ€" surmountable obstacles of the path that lies before them. Aund she leads the way, but never alone ; for Madame Nervous Prostration, who bolds her fast by the hand, drags c‘cs>~ at her heels, ard by her belpless weight makes the difficult more d:iflicalt still. The Marrying Age. Envied Himself.] Crossing Bridges The average man doesn‘t put much stock in robins; he waibs till he hears some girl say she must get her new ghirt w sists 1cacy. Anyway, when a man wants to look at himself he doesun‘t go up to a jewelâ€" er‘s window and pretend he is setting his watch. A girl never fully enjoys a play sho bas beard is s> pathetic unless she has bas spent the morning reading the saddest book she could get out of the library. & When a girl is trying to get a man to propose to her, she probably feels & good deal like the first time she tried to eab a lobster. ‘The clever woman isn‘t the one who always sees the point of a joke but the one who knows enough to laugh as if she did. The averege woman can cover more space carrying an umbrella than a man could with a 30 foot ladder. A woman would be about as successâ€" ful in politics as a man would be in putting away his winter clothes in bar papeor. Lots of women will sct as mean as dirt to their husbands when they‘re too bender hearted to kill a chicken. A woman never realizas how lacking other women are till she trics to think which one of them would be worthy of her husband. Iv‘s funny that the men don‘t kick at the women‘s wearing big hats in church the way they do when they wear them to the theatre. A husband can break down his wife‘s lifelong love for him by driving a nail into the parlor plastering. â€" Ask any girl if she believes in love, and the first thing she will say is to ask why you ask. After a girl has once been kissed by a man she always takes a long breath before she does it again.. At some time in her lifeo every girl has just as good as proposed to some man. His Reflectiens Concerning Men, Woâ€" men and the Affairs of Life. LAWN MOWERS, GARDEN HOSE, FENCE WIRE and PLUMBING MATERIALS 2 s o xmss & ow «ons sip sR 4 Z 9 7 THE BRAINY BACHELOR Want to reach over 2,000 homes of the most intellig wellâ€"toâ€"do people in Waterloo County, through a medium the respect and confidence of its readers. ADVERTIISE IN .. #PPPPPFp IF YXOLU ... If you are not familiar with the CHRONICLE let us send ou a sample copy and talk with you about our advertising rates, VF WILL PAYâ€" YOU: Leitch & Liphardt. A i~7 | The inside of one of )I\\ s /’/ Shorey‘s coats is here illusâ€" AX\ /__ § trated by a drawing made s Z\=â€"\._] from a photograph. The f great advantage of a coat ( properly stayed is that it es s it on eaoengnd worn out, and does not look like an old garment after a few weeks wear. An ordinary readyâ€"made garment may look well at first, but it is made to sell not to wear. Shorey‘s make all have a guarantee card in th The Beams ana Rafters J. S. ROOS.â€"Sole Local Agent. TY rTTYPPP We are now offering these goods at prices never before heard of in Waterloo. Eave Troughing put up at 5¢, 6c, 7c, 8c and 9 cents a foot. are to a building just what the staying is to The Waterloo County CHRONICLE DAVID BEAN, Publisher, Waterloo, Ont. e all have a guarantee card in the pocket. Shorey‘s Readyâ€"toâ€"Wear Clothes. Anold physician, retired from practice,having> had placed in his hands by an East India missionâ€" ary theformula of a simple vegetable remedy for the speedy and permanent cure of Consumption Bronchitis, Catarrh, Asthma, and all throat and Lung Affections, also a posltive and radical cure forNervous Debility and all NervousComplaints after having tested its wonderful curative powâ€" ers in thousands of cases, has felt it his duty to makeit known to nissufferingfellows. Actuated by this motive and a desire tu relieve human suf fering, I will send free of charge,to all whodesire it,this recipe, in German,French or Knglish, with full directions for proparing and using. Sent by mail by addressing with stamp, naming thig paper,__W, A. NoyEs, 820 Powers‘ Blook.itqcn. ester, N. X, We are always on the forge or on the apvil. By trials God is shaping us for higher things.â€"Bsecher. ‘"Yep,‘ admitted the young* man, ‘but I am the light of your daughter‘s life, and it is impossible for a light to darken anything. Please tell Miss: Ethel that I am here.‘â€"New York Journal. It is kind & good deed to say well, and yet words are no deeds.â€"Shakesâ€" poare. It has ever been my experience that folks who bave no vices have very fow virtues.â€" Lincoln, The way of truth is like a ‘great road. It is difficult to know it. The evil is only that men will nob seek it.â€"Me:â€" nenius. ‘Didn‘t I tell you,‘ thundered her father, ‘never to darken my door again T Dare to do your duty always. _ Thiss is the height of trus valor.â€"Simmons.. A man‘s wisdom is his best friend, folly his worst enemy.â€"Sir W. Teurâ€" ple. 1if we cannot live so as to be happy;, let us at least live so as to desorve it.â€" Fitch. She neglects her hearb who studion: ber glass.â€"Lavater. Whas we ardently wish we soon beâ€" lieve.â€"Yqung. A woman‘s sense of humor consists : in suikering when her husband has gotk: up and dressed under the impres on â€" that it is an bour later than ib is.â€"New York Press. If we cannot live so as to be n sh ol ob ols oh ch oo ob sta ob ob cb ets Light in the Darkneoss. CoNsSUMPTION CURED most intelligent and Aphorisms. ‘Sfttrrreue that has S« % # v4 2 % 4 7 J