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fÂ¥iblé experience ofthe heart that sm in a tragedy," said Lhil‘ e Donaldâ€" Quintard thoughtfuily, bre "ft not for his reverepce for ReRA seems to be his religion. He ‘@ confessed agnosiic, but his *+oâ€" irks concerning the fair sex are r“qm in their tuneful beauty. b isca characier study. I will lay wagei:that many a feminiite heart Hf:suffer tbrough his coming." He * was ‘invited everywhere, ac‘ ptance forced upon him; but. hile treating women with the chiv. is respect of tke olden time t unfortunately remains no more a momory in this degenerate iy, e seemed to have n . word other m/ Eburtesy . demanded for the st beautiful or the uiost atcom i was ehandsome, unusually d,. but reticent as â€"to. himself RMisâ€"affairs almost to a fault. p a curious man. One momâ€" he was the merriest of all comâ€" ons, the next a strange pessimâ€" seemed to poison all the bright Of his fature and the bitterâ€" sarcasms, the most cynical itires would fall from his Hps. ~should think he had had some Pnd 4t ) thoroughly grande dame, 0% .know!". exclaimed Quinâ€" CC .are not many girls whoa F._have . the courage to brave lg'mg.lmcng In that way; but, »,‘}fit_n As noth‘ng either forâ€" "or pretentious about her, she « ~.Order a New Part by Long Distance fi;qlhâ€"an 'lnthin‘ whatever B8 6f them. They would have that his heart was dead, but pusto. He was a man who was up and forced into the ‘hoart #oclal world against his will, who had. made a great stir ‘ world of letters by a novel h remarkable merit thit the titof his birth was not cou s‘about that time that. a lion G@own upon the fold. with "‘g_w + her maidea name, she there should be no conâ€" r the shadow that iponâ€"â€"her life. ivnfl:u homage paid her Inty dignity that increased m,â€" so .tliat young women. mothing that savors «t established . Virginia Machinery Breaks delay wh& men and horses are tg.g on with. the work will make the cost more. A new part ordered in the n{‘l;{nmg Distance can reach you by ] the same day. + &. ives his orders on which others mf in the Zields. leaf out of his book. Telephone your and save . delavs. 4j U 6 . farmer starts the day right, on F,. 8. ROVTLEY, that his books breathedâ€"of & :iving fire as deathless as immortality. . znd huving made a particular point of the coming of Edwin Chapman, the lattor apJeared, how reluctantly only he himself knew, about ten U‘clock. : f y He made the stromngest endeavor tc‘ conceal the bored expression of his countenance but the @ffort was attended with failure. ‘He was a man . of distinguished < appearance. eingularly handsome, and magnificâ€" ently propoftioned, his ‘hatr a sort of goiden : brown, his complexion flawless as that of a woman, his beard worn pointed in the English fashion. ~He .was quiet and ‘refined uf manner, well groomed=and well bred, the. halfâ€"dreamy gaze ‘ of: his handsome eyes seeming .to .compre: hend every item in his surroundings ith but aâ€"single sweeping glance. An instant after me‘ had left his hostess and her charming daughter he found himself in the centrs of x group of fluttering women who were propounding io him questions that would, at least, have served to amuse a man of greater vanity tian his. "Mr. Chapman, do tell ts the orâ€" iginal :f Virginia in that delightfal book of yours, will you not?" asked Ethel Davis, one of the sz«son‘s belles. ‘"Was she an Australian or one of our own countrywomen? You see we do not dnquire if the charâ€" acter were drawn from life, for it speaks for itself. Tell us who she The dreamy expression deepened. he moisture of tears seemed t> spring for the moment to the lusâ€" trous eyes, but was quickly banigh "Virgin‘a‘ was an ideal, Miss Daâ€" vis," he answered _ ambiguously. "She is the love of my dreams." "Then you have never loved exâ€" cept in dreams*" "Spare us the old chestnut of adding ‘my mother,‘ " laughed Quinâ€" tird, linking his arm in that of the successful novelist, and leading him away. ‘"Now thank .°," he continâ€" ucd for rescaing you from that petâ€" ticoat brigade.‘ If you could only have seen your face! Properly rep ‘oâ€" duced it would have made the forâ€" tune of an artist as a reprosentation of ‘boredom.‘ I say, look there! "I love all women for the sake NA lsw is <a Long would searcely have: recognized the volcg as belonging to his friend: "Miss Beaufort,." he answered.."1 "No. The room is intengely ‘hot. and the ‘pdot: of Cowers «is always oppressive to mp. . Jn â€"there not a get out of. this. for . a ~moment ?" : :; eyes. to ; shat : out â€" the. vision,â€" .. but before lits: trembling hand couldâ€"be removed from them, the elider Quinâ€" tard, with . Miss â€"Beaufort upon his with th6â€"â€"frmiliarity â€" of triendship tor both. . "I have not asked permisâ€" sion. but ‘I know that it â€"wouldâ€"be AiM, to present miy mnew, but for all: ‘mat, valued .friend, Mr. Chapmean!". > The clear eyes wers lifted to the glowing face, and a smile curved the lovely mouth as sheâ€"answered with She. was Col as .a melting: icicle, dainty. and debonair. hfi "It is a pleasure to meet you, Mr. "particulariy after baving read your really ~delightful book:. 1. suppose allâ€"that has grown very monotonous ard ome ought to have charity to spare you, but one does not often moet the author of a book like "The Exile," and therefore should beâ€"inâ€" dulged." y The white face bad crimsoned beâ€" reath her words, but as she ceased the power of speech seemed to have left him. He stammered some half unintelâ€" ligible words about. being. pleased that she ‘had enjcyed it, somsthing that a schoolboy might have been ashamed to have. acknowledged, and, excusing himself on the plea of inability to endure the heat; alâ€" most staggered to.the deserted reâ€" "Has she recognized me, and does she . intend to punish© me in this wap?" â€"he asked©> himeelf; unconsâ€" clously wondering if the #hastiy reâ€" flection in the mirror tould he his own. â€" Or hasshe forgotten? OK, God, why did Iâ€"ever come back?! 1 might nave known that the‘tâ€"mptaâ€" tion would only bring me into an eternal perdition of suffering. My God, what man has ever suffared for a fault as I have done! My wife! That I should have met her lke this after all my anguish. Is it that ahe does not know me? Have my bearl and my name changed me? There is scarcely a trace of resemblance"â€"â€" gazing | hungrily into the mirror. "Has she forgorten _ HBas she learnâ€" ed to love anothâ€"Heavenly ~Frz ther I should wish her happiness, but I cannot! I camnot wish it in that way! I must gnow! I must"â€" feverishlyâ€"‘"and I shall!" He remained there alone hail an hour longer, rallying himsclf as a that way! I must know! I must"â€" in battle; then with a ‘smils of deâ€" termination he reâ€"entored the Dailâ€" CHAPTR XL "Tell Him That | Loathe Him." With a face that paled under his excitement," though there was no other exhibition of it Kdwin Chapâ€" mian rejoined Miss Beaufort in his friend‘s ballroom. She received him wWith a pleasant smile, that containâ€" ed something that might have been tramislated to puzrled wonderment, but was vague. ‘ "Have you recovered from the au!â€" focating influence of the flowers? she asked brightly. "For all their beauty I can never quite recover fromthe oldâ€"fashfoned idéa that the open | air ls the \)nior place for them. The heat of a ballroom makes their odor heavy. Mr. Quintard tells me you are from‘ Australisa." "I Have recently arrived from Aus tralia. I am a mative bort Aimer! "I beg your pardon," she said softâ€" ly. "You arelike some one whom 1 once. knew, 1â€"eahnnot qullteâ€"reâ€" member . who.‘ 4 Chapman grew pale as death. He was the thought that cut bim to the was the thought Bat Cut him to the soul. He‘had «old his heart, his He lookéd down upon her,.and met hor eyes Axed upen hi with that "I must have An" ordinary ‘endugh tace," he sald in a volce that ‘was ory one heen‘ Id ma a resomiblance to old cliap, ~what : is lt?, Are: you did you say she is"" he ty ,g‘m-â€"’_v-â€"â€" 'v-'v-aâ€"-':g,v"v‘ AaMa 2ooo C d wy life to "Fruita:tives"\ > * © | in Ner yolce. ""Yqun argue your own “M‘ l‘uf:n Am i:g WN-M ~ ‘b0e a bok, 6 for §2.00, triaP sisk 250| tory . of .my ‘1if ie matter is a; "At dealefs" ar. Sont * postpaid â€" by | 246ref; yet you afe the Arst‘one to Â¥ruitâ€"aâ€"tives Liinited.‘ Ottawa. !* >~~ whount °L ‘havd "aver; apoken upor *Je e# 000 it * me" afo is +. /.(({ | Stbject aside from my parents..> i ~. "Bhe, :did ‘not ‘complete the ‘s6enâ€" ‘tence. ; The orchestra~ had begun a ‘Pm . for which she was ‘engaged: Her partner came to claim her and excusing. herself : to \Chapman, she ellowed the newcomer to lead <her away. . s 4 â€"< But, strangoly _ enough, Asf thoughts were no: upon the dancé; They wandered back to Chapman. She saw â€"again the suddenâ€" flIll{- and> paling. of Lis brow, she heard the: dull quiver of his volce ay he spoke to her, she saw the surious melancholy that was, «lmost bitter ness in the © handsome â€" eyes that he is .a vague memory.‘ I.cannot 76â€" She answered the remarke of her companion in monosyllables,< and it was with sometbing very. liks relief that she héard the music cease and knew the walte had come to an end. She saw with delight. the: .ld,t Quintard approaching her. ; "How did you like Chapman*" he arked abruptly, leaning, with the reâ€" spectful familiarity of an elderly She could not explain the reason to herself, yet se felt herself blushâ€" ingâ€" crimson. cae "It is so difficult to say,‘ ‘ghe ansâ€" wered hesitatingly, unable to meet bis eye.â€" Quintard regarded . her curiously. â€" "I have â€"determined," he said cooly, â€""that you two shall become great‘friends.‘ Perhaps it is because I like you‘ both. â€" Iâ€" have discoyered a stringe fact to night. Do you beâ€". lieve in spiritual eommlnu}g?"' c "I scarvcely‘ think I understind "Chapmilin says that .hls ,Yi"fifl’ fijal :n "The Exile‘ over which the whols civilized world | is caving, js an idealâ€"tBat: she was the love of his dréars. Have you not seen a porâ€" trait: of yourself in the charecter And. more extrmordinary still, he has given ber your name!" _ ' ‘The great eyés were lifted to his in . startled surprise. ° Je "Who is he?" she asked, in a low, concentrated : whisper.. . "A gentlieman," he answered, "by birth and education, vouched for by Meredith Lansing, an eccentric ~i21 but jone of the very. best of Amer:â€" can families. . Lensing tells me that he knowsâ€"the historyâ€"of the Chapâ€" man: family from its inceptio®, ard that |t is exceptionally good. Yor may depend on it Lansing knows what he is taiking about." Before the conversaton could be continued, â€" Chaptnan . had escaped from the coterie and joined his host and companion. "Have they put you to flight by their eternmal ‘shop‘ gossip " asked Quintard, smiling. "I am afraid the amount of talk your book has occasâ€" loned will deter you from ever wriiâ€" ing another, particularly as it is not a necessity." . "There are other necessities ‘thca pecuniary onss," returned Chapmag wourily. ‘There are mental detuands ar well as physical ones. â€"A man must do something to keep himselt from a mad hovse." Miss Bsaurort lifted her gl>wing eys and allowed them to res: upon tis changing countenance, ‘"You have. suffered then?" she said softly, almost uneonstious that her lips had framed theâ€"words that novered . upon her. fongue. "Have not we all?" returned Chap man, passing his hand uerns® his brow, asâ€"though to. clear anâ€" obstruct ed vision. ‘"If I_were not opposed 12 ressitmism under . â€"theory I »hould say that it is what we fre croated tor. You have, apparently, everyâ€" thing under heaven to make lifs a paém»>and yet, in the bdek~round of your eyes, there is a shadow that Nimaily: covers unhappiness. <1s; :t not‘true t" f ~ Quintard had left them, «udmon «d;" perhaps, ‘by ‘agesture from his t Â¥ P3 t ASTHMA, SUMMER COLDA. You don‘t need a month‘s treat You don‘t need f eie io prove the worth af â€" R A Z ~â€"M A â€" Fever wear my tuther‘s name, yot L was marfied almost two years .Aago. â€"} never saw my husband after : my breath~ coming: through‘ Ris : lips . is little gaspa;. his bhapd. clutched a portion of her.draperies convulsiveâ€" iy, . though ‘she â€"was unawareâ€"of. it; yot under Ail ‘his excitementâ€"he ¢il Har glancé> was ‘wavrering under his. â€"~She torget â€" to : considerâ€"_the tmpertinence : of a ‘strangér in ‘askâ€" ing ‘her a‘ question:like: that.: Sonteâ€" thing in‘ the haggard. eyes compel} ed an answer, aui the truth, "I would ‘have givan ty ‘lite," she answéred ‘Ruskily, tremblingly, *to nave Had him innocent <ot the <déâ€" ception he practiced‘ upon â€"me:" ~He. leaned. even: more closely â€"toâ€" ward hF, his eyes: brillignt, compeliâ€" in His lips ‘trembled . undet his proach tangled in the tone. B ‘"Iâ€"I don‘t now!". she moaned. "Last night 1 prayed God to send himâ€" back â€"to me,. innoceat or guillty, yet now I know that if ‘he came I should but send hm away again, beâ€" cause the heart that rébelled only last night, toâ€"night is déad." I cnald uot trust him.~ The God who killed love, for both"lfve but in memory." "HMow ‘ he siippressed his agonized cry he could not tell, but perhaps it‘ was ‘the â€"pressure: of her hand uvon his arm, the whitened, quiverâ€" Ing fate‘ that was lifted to his own. ~ "It is he yoG are like!" she crin? hoarsely. ‘lt was ‘he you described i then, but I know it nowâ€"I know it! Tell me, who are you?! snd what do ~you ° know | of Brie «Deveréur Childeg?" . _ ... Ey arg:.s. Ne roa t BC e 0e P teie S o n Ha S w9 e rising, ‘drawing . ber hand through ‘"Auster ~ me!" she ~éxcia med hoarsely, almost unable to â€"control "Iâ€"I knew him> in Australia,"" he dtammered. > "He "told me thestory there. ‘There is ‘soméâ€" relationship between â€"us, T believe."" ~* & the tiny hand ~trembling upun hbis arm, the smiall white teeth: frmily set to prevent. their: chattering. "He lives, heis well, bu: hiss suftâ€" fering is Rorrible. Thore is no poor wretch condemned to death with Whom hq would not exchange placea t he only might‘It is his oid worâ€" thip of you, _ bis remorse for ‘the ccrse he has put upon your life, that causes him toâ€"/silffer death in each hour without the [relief it ‘brings. Miss Beaufort, is there no kind word no ‘message‘of ‘forgiveness, If not hove ‘that you can ‘send to Him?" "No," . she anawered dully. â€""Whea 1 forget, I may forgive~â€"Do you think I did not suffer even ashef Do '““.““‘""i"‘” reasou, ‘6% cept the wish to save my poor old father and mothér, éon‘d_éver: have kopt me frots sulcide? He stole my lite® after havihg sécnred> :y heart by a ite. 1 will never forgive. him Nevert Never!" °.. . . A qulveriti¢ sob plerced his‘ heart. ly using the old.fame: "listen to me : He sinned from hekting the volCe) ~»mgacause you don‘t tall me your -rm~n,,:m~bt_w,fiw sofrofs any more. You ‘think be beyond his .ooritrol. \Heé. worshipped | cause‘I ain blind that 1 canfiot know you . so um,&‘,â€""‘j' * the" plctures that ~ suffering © makes »Hush!* she ea€iaimed, a terrible | upon * your | brow, but you forge: shuddar Whaking her. "Do you think | that when God ~deprives | one of there ; is â€" meorit "Jn ‘_yn-t,nfrg-i sight Me allows hber‘to a certain ex> tbrough© deception! Do. you think (!| pant to #e# ‘with ‘her sirs. There are the yet you . have â€". forgotten he . whispered,â€"aâ€" faint . reâ€" uands were â€"extended, guiding their owner‘s way to Chapman, Ho caught them eagerly in his and led her t» "A chime. frofa‘ clock somewhere in the house toiled three as Rdwin Chapman let Himiself, with his latch keÂ¥into" the home that was his key‘ into the home that was his throiigh the courtesy of his friend, araw8 With the yain in min heent: | mm drawg ‘with tThe pain in his heart. n=z= "Is it you, Rdwin?" asked a little | N68 “!uhnmuur-ntht.l musical voice ms ~he ‘entered the tfim‘hv‘o taken ‘your brain. ‘He closed the door softly, and with unsteady tread" wont nolrcless fline it 1s?" * > ; & ‘The little figure <upon the ‘couch straighioned itself, the short yellâ€" ow ‘cturis like small rings of frayed ifg the lovely, sightiess eyes,, blue | "Perhaps so. It maiy never.have as the aky for all: their. unfortunate | occurred (0° you, but being treated cloud.‘ It is Just : three_o‘clock. ‘1las a child grows rather monotonous wonder : how .the tenth chapter: of after nineteen years."‘" * ‘Longing‘ â€" will progress toâ€"morrow "Ko; you dont ‘really mean to say after all this dissipation *" it!" Heighâ€"ho! Iâ€" don‘t think I ‘have â€" PPR DIIn cote"u asixe ce‘ ©RVER maV MIBIR MNERRNPRRICC C 2 v ""And 1 wonder, how many. age | ever regarded gou quité as a child, lines all these long hours will add. Bebe, only so far as your sweet in to that dainty face Don‘t you know | Eenuousness "'mfll?fi;ml ::N. you should not sit, up like this?" dear, that at ninéty youâ€" .: "Papa has mot come® in yet. â€"1| MUCh a child as ;‘y.ou m:d::m made â€"Aunt® Margaret believe I had d_"l(’f_‘thi-: ‘m:"_ “-mthn jerwouns‘h yone to bed,; and when I heard her anoring, I slipped down here to wail fur you and ‘papa. ~Did.you have 1 very pleusaat evening?" 7 â€"The question was put wistfully, the. smile baving faded from the held,. and, : turn)‘ngâ€" wearlly, seated himself in an armchair, leaning his head upon his nand. 4 ‘ . "Yesâ€"noâ€"I don‘t know, Bebs," ha staimmeréd,, endéavoring.. to . strangâ€" le the sigh that came to his lips, for it had ‘been tacitly agreed in that bousehold thit while Bebe Lansing had been denicd [the. sumshine of God‘s nature, she must know nothâ€" idg else from‘ man‘s. "I suppose it exquigite dimpled face. was . very . well" in . its way, \ot J don‘t like that rort of thing much." .~"OB, I should. think you would. Gream of being at places Iike that. 1 hear musi¢, I smell flowers, L sse the men :and women all in their beautiful . gowns, with their diaâ€" moads asd their bouqueis, dancing and laughing so merrily, anl, ob, Kdwin, I do. so wish that I could zo uad enjoy:it all once, ofly just one little time in. reality. But I suppose it would not be the same. I couldn‘t you know, for inâ€"my dreams G=d lets me see, and I should be h}ind as Iâ€"am now if I were there, and it coulin‘t â€"be. quite tho same withoat theâ€" diamonds and the flowers and he gowns, I don‘t supposy. 1 am wrong to ; feel badly about it, I know for God is very good to me to lét me see in my dreams. Don‘t ;ovi think so, Edwin?" He looked at the little wln&l ineo lifted to his own, and groaned from the dephths of his soul. _"I don‘t know, dear!" he blurted out miserably. ‘"It seems to meâ€"a sipguiar way of showing compassion and love; for. an angel like you.‘ "Oh, fi:‘.‘n "Don‘t » us speak of it, Bebe. I feel in a rebellious mood to nig~‘ aniâ€"1 should only saysomething to won‘nd the tendesrness of: your dear liftle beart: : You ought to be in herself â€"upon a stool atâ€" his feetâ€" *ygu‘ don‘t trust‘ me as you used to as you did inâ€"those happy days in the courntry when yo% used to coms to me to simooth the wrinkles out of your heart, do you?‘ **Why, ‘Bebe, why do you aay | that that when God deprives one of .bi.t'loalmuhrfto‘mun ax tent to «66 ‘with ‘her sairs. There are mors distress» pletures in the voice thin apon the countenance, Edwin." "And you thinkâ€"â€"*" _ _, ‘That you, have bean stabbed to mm“imfl' sn in port ds thce . was as death, but he forced a slight laugh that he fancied es, L know,".she anawered, 1iâ€"â€" "Not until. papa‘ comes. Rdwin"â€" dropped the hands he P s & to ture of impatience. â€" , .* ooo At t *"I sBail wait for hi. If you won‘t tell me | what: distresses. y8u, you may go to bed." > J > "Thanks," drawled Chapman, â€" "I shall walit for your father also. . { réally believe there is a frown upon your fage, Bebe." dear, that at ninéty youâ€"‘will be as much a child as you ate toâ€"day.‘ I dor‘t: think there is another woman in the world quite like you, Bebe. Your friendship is '.l:.f'“-t“’l thing that life holds for now." ly face from brow to throat, . }She made a pretense .of . arrenging. a drapery in order to cancéal the joy thit she knew her countenance exâ€" pressed. s ."It is only. because I am afraid. of making you ughappy, little one," "It woug uot! Oh, Edwin, you must not think it! "There is nothing that could give me greater pleasure than to knowâ€"yourâ€"secret." He took the little hands in his and held them closely, but he was lookâ€" ing over the. pretty, rumpled golden head, and not at the sweet, cufi: face, or n. might have read: Heaven, . t? Better the signs of a fatal physical affiiction than the mental struggle that was to crush her beart. _ ""You have guessed it, I think, little one," he answered dreamily. "Inio every life there comes a time when have never felt it yét,; and therefore cannot feel for me. When you do, tell me, Bebe, and I will then explain the sorrow and fear that oppresses me now," _ $ She arose with a little hysterical fiutter like the movements of the wings of a bird. She crossed the rooim, then reéturned and placed her hand lightly upon his shoulder. "You forget how rapidly the emoâ€" tions of the heart can grow,â€"Edwin," she sald in that volce which first love renders indescribable. "Are you â€"quite sure thatâ€"I coud â€"notâ€"unâ€" detstand now*" ‘ He drew her hand down shoulder and kis#ed it. "It cannot be true!" he exlaimed| , / ") tenderiy. "Our little Bebe in love! lo-.{.' Tell me, dear, teil meâ€"â€"" Pequ "No, not until youy have told me!" she whispered, a. tremulous . smile hovering upon her crimson lips. ‘ A cloud grew upon his brow. "There is so little to tell, aweet," he said hoarsely. "It is the old story of love and deception, only this time it was I who deceived her. 1 loved her, dear, with all_the passion of a starving heart, but 1 was not what 1 represented myself, I dared not tell her until it was too late, 1nd thenâ€"â€" I should not have dlotnu-1 44 you with this story, Bebe. 'nwn‘ is no hope for me, andâ€"" ; "Oh, Edwin, bow foolish.you are!". a:claimed the girl, throwing herseif ulumnm-\oolumhu.ui raising her. sightiess eyes to hird. "Don‘t you know that. there is no chasstwof deception" so great ‘ that tove could not bridge it?". He caught the amail hands in his. A faint flush overspread. the Joveâ€" N ap ns e snoar. "Tame Neither love Ck Y MB pletely close the mental. vision as the selfisbnoss of griel. ® "You bellere that?" ho questioned tho Ond d "And yet you do not trust me more," she whispered .tremulousâ€" aAl Te .. "Tell me, W ATERLOO ® Bebe, and think he feared: your: hatre you. Supose: that: he that he _had deceived ©y0u. > you:‘ send him ‘fromâ€" you ; Would you banish him fromâ€" heart and life,â€" and send him a> "How :can â€"youask<me ths would but increase my affection t 1 should adore‘ him.. T. might c him for his lack of.confidence. heart, < but . even.. whi m should take, his aw'&h' my Aushed: faintly soul, that he <himself Bad P back to happiness and :1 ; (Td be Continued) Minard‘a‘ lniment Friend. . _ DR. J. r‘.fl%nmn:‘r. eases 7 King St. East, flm § pr. 3. 3. walTeRs, 67 qu St. S., has ge;lm"l_F‘!a: SCELLEN and J, A. len, B.A., LLB.; } I. A. CLEMENT, CLEMENT TIN, iaw offices, Wat Loan Building, e Foundry streets, ener, Ont. . IAMES C. HAIGHT, â€"% Solicitor, Notary Pub anter, :u'-_ Money to MILLAR, SIMS and i 7 ains biom oenee Bo A., Barristers, Notaries, oté. B.Nc. ‘ MeINTOSP, ‘ E ar St. Lath Aiichenes . aratienes Baxck Whtedga . Oddfellows Block, Waterioo. â€" sultations, 7 to 8 p.m. and by Phone :14. & ' Phones, Office 1323J H. Master in Chan Solicitors, Etc. ; Block, King West, Kitchene practiced in all ito: bi ELECTROTHERAPEUTIET Undertakers DR. A. HOLM, D. C, â€" _ CHIROPRACTOR LETTER and MEDICINLL * _ DFENTAL *Aep wl "