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it wnen mmww % the }.?fll!lflbh;‘“ _â€" I spent some in thought. , * "How‘s the grub?" 1 demanded. t’/ *Bald to be great," he replied; "no »‘ bread and milk and pumpkin pie out \ .. Ahere. They live on the fat of th« *laud, and the price of board is away n'h‘tln‘ly. I tell you, the place has a reputation; it‘s exclusive," «3858555 55659599550505 55 6 "Obliged to you, Johuny," said 1. "Perbaps I‘ll go out to sge Mrs. Witherâ€" spoon. That little but in the orchard hits me hard. Isâ€"it faryfrom the house?" "Why yot?" asked the girl gently., ; ‘~*I beg your pardon," said I.. "It hapâ€" yal that 1 have met Miss Lamotne. s z. doesn‘t resemble her." / _ _"f always thought they looked yery o ammneh alike." she replied. "Far enough," said he, and then proâ€" geeded to give me further details of the Witherspoon property. We roamed mround for nearly an bour talking mbout it, and whea we parted I was fully resolved to give the place a trial Brooks was pledged to secrecy as to my intention. ‘The next day 1 hired a "rig" and drove out to the Witherspoon farm. It was a beautiful place, revealed sudâ€" @enly as the road curved round a sinâ€" gular, rough hill, the like of which 1 mever saw elsewhere in that part of the country.â€" It seemed to be a great pilé of rocks withâ€"stunted .and dis torted trees growing at strange angles from the crevices between them, Beâ€" yond it was the Mke, from which the ) A dismounted from the carriage and © %ook a seat in the perch. Immediately i ‘‘%he quiet boy appeared from nowhere z:;;lmhr and led my horse under | ." the shade of an apple tree that stood | . Bestle the fence which marked off the | ?"zhfl from the g:#. 1 observed that @ path leading n to the lake was * beyond the fence., The orchard showâ€" . ed no sign that any one passed through. -'-ly'f', e was a faint path leading to the Aodge, but it seemed not to go beyond. to. . Th & very mice boy," said L. . *Who is be?" £ fix % !:m." replicd the young _\ 4 baif rose from my seat. | .“’j-.flf" :' 7" 1. echoed. ‘ «.. \®Wes," said she. “Bo:: orphan. _. Hfe and his sister are alnjost all that‘s < a ;v" i--:f"w, 22\ } m ." M e companion in tha . wo well. taral ‘calm of the ANEyme S | 49 [z edk Pn e P3 orch:‘ll;ose toward the house, an orâ€" derly ay of fine old trees, wide spreading, gnarled and sturdy. _ _ _ In the midst of it I could with difâ€" ficulty descry the lodge, picturesque and inviting, built round a giant apple tree and shaded by the incredibly broad expanse of its branches. There seemed to be a rude veranda on the side toward the lake, a place where a man might sit and smoke and forget any girl that ever existed. w Jim Lamoine," replied the young woâ€" "That‘s where I live," said I to the horse earnestly and confidentially; "under that tree. My méals are brought out to me by a gagged slave, and any boarder who calls upon me gets shot." . The farmhouse itself might bave atâ€" tracted me in ordingry conditions. It was a serjies of low houses that had grown with the demand. They were conmected, but each seemed to have its geparate entrance, with a spacious porâ€" tico, vine clad and cool. But the best of it was that not a human creature was in sight. The house bad many windows flung open to the sweet June air and beyond a doubt was well tenâ€" anted, yet no one was visible. I fanâ€" cled the people to be wandering in the grove beyond the house or in the trees that bordered the lake, each man or woman solitary, absorbed in gentle reflection. As I drove up to that entrance which seemed to appertain to the managing part of the cstablishmentâ€"for the kitchen was back of that section of the house, and it looked to be the oldestâ€" a very quiet boy came out and regard ed me without gnerest or curiosity. 1 set him down as a model child. a m‘v‘m@d:’ said I, "will you tell Mrs. Witherspoon that Lâ€"would like to see her?" He turned without a word and went Into the house. Preseiitly a young woâ€" man came out to say that Mrs. Witherâ€" spoon was in the garden, and se made & gesture which indicate] that that was far away. Sho spoke with a hushâ€" €d voice appropriate to the place, and I gbuld have thanked her for it. "If it‘s anything about living here," whid she after a restfol pause, "I can give you information. I‘m Mrs. Withâ€" | pripoon‘s niece." | Tur GIRL .: OF THE â€"ORGHARD "I¢ i#t a«thl 1 said, "that he is BÂ¥ HOW AKD FIELDI®G. =‘$"~"“'J.’..."‘.:'r‘" o *fi'.' was the reply. 3! course her brother knows?" don‘t think so. You can ask bim." Bomebow she spoke as if there wore some mystery in Anng Lamoipe‘s whereabouts, and her m‘d saying that I might ask Jim it wholly unnecessary that I should do so. Kither he didn‘t know or be wouldn‘t tell. There was a pause, and then I said: "That‘s a fine little house under the apple tree.. I wonder what your aunt would charge me for it." "It‘s rented," said the girl ‘"There‘s a Miss Jones living there." ho _ "Miss Jones?" I asked. "Where did she come from? What does she look "I don‘t know where she comes from," was the reply. "Sbe looks well enough for all that I‘ve seen of her." like ?" *You don‘t mean to tell me that she lives out there all alone?" ‘‘There‘s an old lady in this side," reâ€" plicd Miss Witherspoon. ~‘"The house is in two parts; used to be only one, but Mr. Witherspoon built the baif nearest to us last year." "What a pity!* 1 exclaimed. "Ob, it‘s just as private," she said. "There‘s a partition of logs and no door.* You might fire a cannon in one half and not wake a personin the o§hâ€" er. I don‘t believe Miss Jones and Miss Scott ever meet. I carry their meals out separate." > She sat back in ber seat and demureâ€" ly folded her bands, which were. in cased im men‘s gloves, much solleg. I judged that she had been performing some task appertaining to the kitchen range. â€" "I wabt the whole of that little house," said I. s ‘ "Don‘t knaw how you‘re going to get it," she replied. "But you can speak to Mrs. Witherspoon. Here she comes." A large, motherly looking woman, with a pleasant face and a great abunâ€" dance of gray bair neatly arranged, came around the corner of the house. SBhe was carrying a large pan of peas. As I rose to speak to Mrs. WitherspooH the niece slipped away into the hong. It flashed across me that she might have been too long away from her work and that the landlady‘s dispostâ€" tion might not be so mild as her counâ€" tenance would indicate. I lost no time in stating my business to her. She shook her head slowly and stirred the peas in the pan with a medâ€" itative air. "There seems to be a great demand for our apple tree house this year," said she. "Miss Scott takes~to it, though you‘d think an old maid would be scared out there in the orchard at night. But it appears that she‘s afraid of fires and don‘t like to live up.stairs in a bouse. I might be able to arrange matters with her, but I codldn‘t budge Miss Jones. And that settles it, of ceurse, so far as you or the other gentleman is concerned." "The other gentleman?" "Yes," said she. "We bave a Mr. Derringer from New York, who wants to live in the orchard." "Mr. Derringer!" I exclaimed. "Well, upon my word!" â€" She looked at me with mild surprise. "I seem to be meeting, or at least hearing about, an extraordinary numâ€" ber of my acquaintances in this place. I‘ve met Mr. Derringer in New York, and as for Miss Jonesâ€"by the way, is she a rather tall girl with voery beautiâ€" ful blond hair?" "Really, I bardly noticed," said Mrs. Witherspoon. "I couldn‘t tell you what she looks like. She keeps a good deal to herself; never comes to the house, but goes down to the lake with her painting things and sits there all day." "This is very interesting," sald I. "Can you give me & room im the house? Here is my card. I am the son of Sumner Terry of Chicago." She rose as if to ghow me the way and looked about for a place to set down the pan of peas. At that moâ€" mont Jimmy Lamoine appeared as if irough the ground and without a word took the pan from the old lady‘s hand and carried it into the house. "Is that boy dumb?" I demanded. "No," she replied, "but he‘s a cur‘ous child, cur‘ous. He‘s a kind of a mysâ€" tery, I call him." f "Certain," said Mrs. Witherspoon "‘You can étay with us." "His sister is far from an ordinary girl," said I, "and something of a tmysâ€" tery herself." _ s _""That‘s righe" said Mrs. Wither spoon. "She is." f €HAPTER vV. ow THE LAKE RS. WITHERSPOON offered m me a rodm on the ground floor essatll of the bouse in the end nearâ€" i@llea) cst the highway, the latest of the parts which bad arisen in the growth of that remarkable structure. It was in every way Inviting, being large and cool and furnished with a simple elegance quite beyond my exâ€" pectations. There was a mahogany bedstead of the old style, yet not ugly, and the most cursory investigation reâ€" venled modern springs of the best patâ€" tern. ‘The chairs, the writing table and the wofa wore all equally fraudulent; they all w the comforts of toâ€" day behind a thin mask of the m Tt was pleasant that these ghould seem to be the solid, cheerleas TumbDer of"our granarathers anu stdo«â€"> #o tendily betray themselyes for prodâ€" «ets of a time loss rode. Indeed it was the chief charm of Mrs. Witherspoon‘s hospitality that it was not what it seemâ€" houne. BN0 "was. nothing of the P was nothing the ¢ ‘M 'm in these days like a a o have ontgrown the ty of a life so near the soil. . #| Fuere were toree windows, ADG PWG « | 6f them looked out toward the lake. 1 , | could catch a glimpse of the . little house under the apple tree, and the : view adown the geutle slope was very ‘ | verreshing to the eye. The quarters peased me, and I made a prompt barâ€" 'uniwth-nnpflalmtwdd quce have given me a spasm of the I had come without any baggage at all, and it was necessary to refurn at once to St. Jo. In that city I experiâ€" enced some small delays, and it was after 2 o‘clock when I came again to 1irs. Witherspoon‘s and helped the man who had ridden out with me to carry in my trunks. When he had driven away, I sat down by a window and enâ€" joyed the view. ‘The place savored of romapce. It was delightfully unreal, and I was beginning to fancy myself fioating on the lake in the moonlight with Auna Lamoine when the baser craving of hunger shattered the dream. ‘The â€"visionâ€"had endured for a few seconds only, for I was in a state to gnaw the bark of the apple tree that shaded imny eastern window. Indeed I had some thought of its fruit, scarcely out of the bud, aud glanced in that diâ€" rection for an instAng. Turning again to look out toward the lake, I stared straight into the face of Jimmy Laâ€" moine. whose head just reached above the window sill. Fimmy enjoyed my surprise. He had a way of grinning with his eyes, the lower part of his face remaining as éxpressionlcss as a slice of beefsteak. ‘:Léold Mre. Witherspoon I‘d_show you the dining room," said he. _ _ _ ‘You don‘t mean to tellâ€" me that there is anything to eat at this hour!" I exâ€" claimed. "You can always get something to eat here," he said. ‘"There ain‘t any bours." In previous experiences with rustlc living I had been burdened by the riâ€" gidity of mealtime regulations, and I bad had no thought that Mrs. Witherâ€" spoon would serve lunch as late as balf past 2. Sold Everywhere. . In boxes 265 cents. "You are taking q starving sailor off a raft," said I to Jimmy, and I gave him half a dollar, which hbe received wikh tha anlemnity.â€"of a cito ... â€"â€" « He laid the coin in the palm of his hand, closed his fingers upon it and opened them again. My money had vanished. Having performed this mys tery, Jimmy gravely led the way toâ€" ward the dining room, seeming to know by some sort of intuition that I should make my exit by the window instead of taking the longer route. Mrs. Witherspoon‘s dining room was in sections, like the bouse, and each section bad its exits and its entrances. I was aware, in the course of my meal, that several persons were lnnéhln‘ in my neighborhood, but I saw nome of them. I sat at a little table by the window and was well served by & neat maid. The bill of fare was ample, and everything was cooked to admiration. After luncheom, being, entirely upon my own resourees in the matter g amusement, I dered down o lake. The p-‘ alongside the orâ€" chard, but th w in its direction was obstructed by bushes that overyan the fence. There was no one to preâ€" vent nfy walking across the orchard. No signboard interdicted it, bfil'\xh was a law in the air, and this & peculiarity of the place. At the foot of the path I found s small boat drawn up on the llnm I felt privileged to take it I the craft off and sat in the stern, dsing one car as a paddle, Indian fashien. The lake Was véry pretty and blessed by a cool breeze. I paddled out a tittle way and lighted a cigar. To the left the hill came down, vergâ€" lngupontbmmlnsm‘lluixl: of rocks that would have seemed work of man but for the vast labor it would have cost. Giancing along this wall and so on to the bare fAdid that fringed the orchard, 1 pergelved a girl in a pale green dress at work before sn easel. She was shaded by a large umâ€" brella, such as artists use, planted in the ground and set at so niee an angle that it nccurately beheaded her image in my eyes. that I might have recognized a person very well known to me, and 1 stared at her, expecting every moment that she would stoop and feveal her face. Whom should I see? Protty Misé Jones from Bt. Jo orâ€"some one else!? 1 was conscious of a most unusual thrill of anxiety. 1 could sge her right hand plainly; at least, there was mothing but distance to prevent. It seemed a protty band, to prevent. It seemed a band, and‘ it wielded the brush wm grace, Yet in my present calm frame ofmmdlmwflh'hmm buman band loo:n much lHke at 300. yards. ut consideration dldnotcomqwl‘mlxnu-o. Soch things are for the best; they make â€"up the joy of.youth, Thank Reaven, I am still subject to guch Mlusions, for all this did not bappen long ago. T 1 watched the lady‘s band with & most agreeable fascination and tried bq:‘wemlpralnnd whlgull:-y chief businéss to forget. E memory in such matters is not the romantic would like to beliere it is ‘The actual fact is hat I probâ€" abiy could not have identified ;: hmmbyh.m.b.olf!b arisen fromâ€"the lake beside my boat. After a long as it seemed to n&hfi 1 had warning that ~wanld i. and my beart gave a loap. It was great sport; 1 onâ€" joyed every second of it. And then her head came slowly down into the visible wrea. She was velled, not heavily, but w I should not have known uuuuamq M-" w stt P c 42. -J Pills thipored, biscine uit pand mp io mE ons mamines w * BM ht mealh satle with dinoulty . B tas.. with hert 1 Iuilz it t mdfi when she lay an h: chair looked at me siyly unde; her eyelids, It makesâ€"me beliove vhost Italian stories of the gvil eye. Lus is restless and unbappyâ€"in lov¢ waw her; his brother is fretting himsci to skin and bone about her; Levty has becu frightened baif out of her wits; and Iâ€"well, 1 am not the same woâ€" man I was before sh¢ came. And 1 don‘t feel 1 ever shall be the same woman again! _ 1 She was standing in the middle oi the room as she murmured the word: half aloud. At that moment the doot opened slowly, and â€"Francesca, pale as death but perfeciiy comosed, rustles softly in, and faced her aunt with a smile which had something <a litt} strained about it, It was the drst time the two hac met that day, and Francesca ofercd her aunt her hand. But the old lady igrored it and without a word resumâ€" ed her seat, pointing imperiqusly to anotherâ€" chair lacing her at a iittle distance. ‘‘This is not a ffiendly mecting," she began in a barsh voice, as hr.n cesca arranged her silk skirts _ with her usual slow grace of movement and waited for hor to speak. "i have heard Certain things about you w hich if they are, true will necessitate your leaving my house at once." ‘"‘What things?" "II this letter is true, you have a« ceived me and lied to me with the utâ€" most effrontery.‘"‘ ‘‘In what respect?" "First, then‘‘ â€" Mrs. Revelowouh rose in her excitement, gripping . the arms of her chairâ€""that woman . upâ€" stairs is not your mofRer!" ~ Every trace of color died out _ ol Francesca‘s face; but her lips did not quiver, and her tones were steady as she spoke. ‘‘Indeed! Who is she titn?" "‘That is for you to say. My cortssâ€" pondent states positively that . you: mother, the Countess Conti or Mrs. Harold Revelsworth, dicd at HKonu.: and was buried there fully twenty years ago. He has even scen her tomb!" _ Francesca drew a deep breath. "Well," she said quietly â€" "Whait then?" ‘‘What then! Surely that â€" alone would be bad cnough, after the hypoâ€" critical and lying letter you wiote about your paralyzed mother! Who is this woman you have induced me to take into the house under false preâ€" tences?" ‘"She is what I said," answercd the girl boldly, ‘"a poor paralyzed woman who has been a mother to me all my life since my own mother was taken from meâ€"a woman I have cailed ‘Mother‘ for twenty yearsâ€"a woman who nursed me through my childish illnesses, who saved my life by her devotion, and who would willinzly lay down her life for me. It is quite true that the shock of my â€" father‘s death brought on an attack of paralyâ€" sis, and that since then I have supâ€" ported her. She is my nurse, my fosâ€" terâ€"mother, the first person in . {he world who ever kissed and catessed we. She has hardly been parted from me all my life, and, if it is a crime that I would not desert her and _ let her starve, and that I, her fosterâ€" daughter, introduced har into this house as the mother I have always considered her, then I have commitâ€" ted that crime. I own it." Francesca had risen too, and stood ; facing her aunt proudly, with fu hâ€"d chéeks and sru«kling eyes. There was something a little theatrical in her‘ pase and in the declamatory ring of her voice, but it was none the . less highly effective, and in the first *porâ€" tion of their encounter Mrs. Margaretl felt herself worsted. I "All that sounds very fnce and showy and foreign,‘"‘ she observed sarâ€" castically, ‘"but please remeimber you are not an Italian playâ€"actress,. but an English gentlicwoman, znd that there are no young men present to admire your find words and fine attiâ€" tudes. You have deceived me grossly by palming off a domestic servant upâ€" cr me as my brotherâ€"indaw‘s~widow and your father‘s wife. And I do not intend to forgive you." â€"‘‘I do not ask }wr forgiveness,‘ said F!fim,'in very quiet tones "I consider myself justified." ‘‘Were you justified," Mrs. Revelsâ€" worth then asked harshly, "when at the age of sixteen you disgraced your dead father‘s name by eloping from your home with a disreputable Italâ€" ian singing fellow in some strolling opera company? â€" The acting tricks you learned when you went about the country (with him as a performâ€" ing vagrant have certainly slood you in good stead since your return . to respectable society.‘* "I never performed," _ murmured :b“;"‘ faintly, . ‘"Ard I was his "His wilel ‘And yet a few yoars I find you were driving openly about Rome as the mistress of a worlhless young Englishmanâ€"a gamblet and a take!" ‘‘That is false!"" eried Francésca, fushing crimson. ‘‘My first husband was dead and I had married again. What right have you to call me up mnyounddncwtthlumt all the oruel sorrows and humiliaâ€" tions I have endured? â€" Whose fault was it but yours that on my father‘s ml had . no home to go to and I h to body on jout toppwmert. â€" finoge Jndft but my â€" my only friend, Mrs. Revelsworth had resumed her seat. She was bending forward in her chair, clutching the arms with Iher long thin hands. Her eyes were i steadfastly fixed upon Francesca‘s |lace, and she seemed to be striving | to read _whether truth or falschood ‘were written thtre. After her niece had finished speaking, . she romain.d still silent for a few moments, watchâ€" | ing her intently. . your money and yeur positich, even if you can neither understand not sympathizeâ€"you ought to pity a girl in such a position. But 1 will not submit to any more crossâ€"examining: You have never aone anything . for me, mot even your bare duty towards your brotherâ€"inâ€"law‘s orphan child; you have lived in ease ‘and: comfort while I was starving. By whait right do you sit in judgment upon me? You have shown me no affection, you have disliked and insuited me cver since 1 entered your house, and you have tried to set other people against me too. You can drive me and my fosterâ€" mother out into the world to sink or swim, you can leave the porticn . of money which should be mine elseâ€" where; but I utterly deny your right to crossâ€"question n.e upon my _ past life, and 1 refuse to speak another word to you upob the subject!‘ "I may be doing you an injustice,‘ she said at last reflectively, "but 1 don‘t think so. You are a very clever young womar, and Iâ€"dare say you have been badly treated; but, unless your face belies you or my instinct deceives me, as it has never done yet you are downright wicked! In any case this house isn‘t large cnough for both you and me. Noâ€"1 am not goâ€" ing to turn you and that old woman into tke street at a moment‘s notice; you shall: never be able to say that! I shall write to my lawyer toâ€"night, and toâ€"morrow he will come and arâ€" range® with you a settlement, by which yom will receive enough to keep you in comfort and «respectabilâ€" ity, but not in luxury. This money: will be paid to you at once, as soon as you leave this roof, cn the _ one condition that you do leave it and that you do not trouble any of the intates of this house again on pain of forfeiture of your allowance. . The division of the Revelsworth property next year will not concetn you; you i will receive no more and no less than the annuity I shall settle upon you | when I alter my will. You say you refuse to answer my questionâ€"doubtâ€" less you have your reasons for keepâ€" ‘ing silent on the subject of your past ‘careerâ€"but one thing you must tell me. Since, by your own admission, | you ~have twice be(n‘muricd, you have certainly no longer any right to the name of Revelsworth. What is your real name?" Frabcesca hesitated a moment. "Francesca Devereux," she said hurriedly at last. "I suppose it is useless to expect the truth from you, but it might be as well if I knew whether you are a wile or a widow?" "I am a widow." © "For the second time?" "For the second time." ‘‘Whether that is â€"true or false of coutse 1 Wkve no means of knowing. But,‘as you say, that does not conâ€" cern me. Please make your arrangtâ€" ments to leave this house toâ€"morrow with the person upâ€"stairs. You shall be provided with sufficient money for. expenses before you go, and, it you will communigate your addréss to Mr. Simpson, he will see that your allowâ€" ance is paid to you quarterly, cn the conditions that I have named. . I do not think that it will be necessary for us to meet againâ€"aÂ¥ least toâ€"night. Can you arrange to dine in yout own rooms?" _ Francesca stood perfectly still in front of her aunt, looking down at her. The girl‘s face was very . pale \nirwdlg set, and an ominous light shone im her eyes. ‘‘Them I am dismissed, aunt Marâ€" garet?" she said in a low Yolce, comâ€" ing a step newrer towards Mrs. Revâ€" elsworth "And I am to be paid a miserable pittance on condition that I never communicate with any of my father‘s relatives againt?" * s _u"'-‘n ._‘"And this is because I would not Ansert my old nurse, and berBuse â€"I mmtfl‘mfl?" Mc Yike Sxll : hnton + deâ€" â€"*‘Hecause you have shamefolly deâ€"} _ } x ‘-iv-i..i;i-:w...-...n'uv....a 1| _ «tw «m a «n *« do not trust you.‘"‘ P . "Why not say outright,"" Francesca f us d n e OB Fs ’ . _ ‘What is worth m:ore mcterially in this world ? What ts all the world‘s wealth without health ? . ~ o > Aith s 00e â€" ts *___ The prudent person k~eps the boily healthy, . Regurd is pald to the condition of every orgau. The kiineys ere among the most im 1 orgaus of the body, and when they are not weil, you canuot be well. 6 resulates the kidneys and aids nature in securing pure blood, which is absoâ€" lutely necessary to health and strength. Jt is a marvelous tonic. .. . . . It is the latest scientifc compoun@Tfor the relief and cure of all the many ailments that result from diSeased kidueys. â€" Be sure to getBuâ€"Ju. Bu.Ju l‘--old by all bolof.“' 50 pille, 50c on that shows ins ruddy complexion; bright eyes; lungs, with plenty of ropm inâ€"which to expand;a ligestion; an active liver; sound, restful sicep; a cheerâ€" have hated â€" : that You â€"8 LOOK AT IT NEWw v‘onn. N. Â¥., ARO wiNDSOR; ONT. domineered over?â€"Just because ~you have money and I have none you think you are‘at liberty to treat me as you do that poor little Betty Manâ€" nfington, your bullied, unpaid" drudget You forget, I think, that I am & Revelsworth as well as you. I would not stay under your roo{ cne hour but for that poor crippled creatwre who depends upon me; and so long as ‘you live you need not fear that 1 shall ever try to communicate with you again. This our last meeting on earth, I solemnly swear that I . will not look upon your face again! A;‘ early as possible toâ€"morrow 1 â€" will leave your house, aunt Margaret. You. have treated me with cruel in.ustice from the beginning, and I am | not going to pretend that I forgive you. But one thing I must askâ€"E must in sist upon. 1 have not the least wisu to see or speak ¢g Betty or to : ! of my cousins toâ€"night. Bus, if {ding in my mother‘s room and do not apâ€" pear again this evening, you at ftast owe it to me to uphold me in ihe statecent that my mothor is ill and requires my attendance. . Â¥hn we have left the house, you cin inform my cousins and Beity of my Leinous wickedness in losing toth my parc®s and making two wretched martiages, but, until I have leit it, 1 must beg you to keep silence on the subject or my affairs, as I myself shall do!" cim THB, There was a note of command and mot of entreaty in Francesca‘s voice as she spoke, looking down into .Mrs. Revelsworth‘s eyes with that fierce light in her own; and, fight against the feeling as she might, the old lady was for the moment cowed by _ her tone of authority. * mfiothing succeeds where the soul {fails. sOrrOW . With God life and love are synont mous. A sharp man always cuts his own fingers. Repentance cannot taar up 1D¢ roots of the past. . No man reaches the stage of iriâ€" umph but by the steps of t ial. The man who takes life as a Gose always finds it a bitter one. A man imakes no particuiat pr0â€" gress by patting himself on the lick. The Young People‘s Society of Paul‘s â€" Church are picnicking Bridgeport toâ€"day, not toâ€"morrow an item on page five, written Friday‘s paper would indicate. Amn agent of the Toronto W. C. T. U. meets all trains at the Union staâ€" tion to look after strangers, especialâ€" ly young girls, when they arrive. The agent answers all inquiries, advises them as to what to do under the cirâ€" cumstances, and gets boarding houses or situations for them. Sometimes young girls are saved by this means from falling into the hands of evil persons mended There is no short cut to happiness Virtue is not a matter of iocabi ary. A little silence may save a lot of _ The most delicate and fragile leaves of the tea plant are in this teaâ€"that‘s why it is so fragrant and aromatio _ * . There‘s nerve nourishment in Blue Ribbon Tea. +m There‘s rest for tired brains and wornâ€"out bodies. Blue Ribbon Tea dw.fimmm»m SENTENCE SERMONS To be continued The work is to be com* St. at for rates the facultiesâ€"makes the mind â€" CR Jn ‘s etareas _ Money to Loan on Mo & P. CLEMENT. K 0. M YY _ Barrister, B priger,, se uen t Gueen o Rovk, w * MaAnX h: Offlcs : oppoatg court House: his rosidence on Krb communication, Licentiate of the College of . t ETV CC eye and car _ tr« 'a‘_wâ€" coâ€" /fl%-ns::-t \?M.cloo. a snort of the late Dr. Walden‘s residence, 1)““‘:1'12,;‘&.‘1‘#&%::2‘& rorente U cacontlate che College cons and Acouchours of OMt fil lu.dlfl-a e# of the nose and throak «. ui n given to the use of the "~â€" _/ =//"‘ X . Ray und Electrie Cu: it in the diagnosis and treatment 0 e R. C. T. NOECKER, s it. W. L. HTLMIARD, 1)" Soner are ivate C ‘fiR, DAME. Specialist in medical gical discases of the ‘"'tw Thrceat KXCLUSIVELY. A graduate‘ Odice on Stree>. Opposite Woolien Miris. ?lmxm m wad Throat Rospitals, Vienna, Ar be eonsuited. .f“ the Wl:fi g Tuesday and Friday afternoons ® Telephone 253, Gait, Ont. f Itoyal London Opthaimic and Gold Kar, Nose u:d ’l'gl'ut Hu# Ofl land, _ Also Royal and Imperial Kye ge“' __ ___ Dentist, L.D.8., Royat Mm B‘l‘x"?tn:' D.D.8. Toronto U nchos cnuttry m. ie Ararenes Levwage Peprentaoite Store. Entrance between k lor and Sruebing‘s grocery. Elook, Water W. R.Wilkinson, LD.$., D.D.8 . DENTIST. <a#l W WELLS. L. D. 8. a C. W. WELLS, D. D. 8., Watorloo, ‘Will visis Elmira, Zilliax + the second Thursday and Friday : Thursday and Friday of each mon‘ 4 1 p.mu. to Friday 1 p. m. OD painlees extraction of teeth, The foe will be olosed every Friday 00 OHN L. WIDEMAN JOLN _ o heuer ot Marriage Liomnaes CRR!BTOPBER WOLFE, Jn 1 fi Painter and Paper Hanging. ‘W i1 fi;‘_;. der ake contracts for painting and papef hang . ng.in Town and Country. Firstâ€"class ‘-l*‘:q guaranteod. Charges reasonable, Apply & rosidence, ocrnor of Queen and Princcss Ste, Waterloo LC H WEBB, M. D A. HiLLIARD 0. HUGHKS Ofice Open Daily, . _ Office: Canadian Blook, Berlin: MISCELLANEOUS MEDIOAL DENTAL 198