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I. ‘~â€"_Mâ€"uâ€"â€"-I-â€"_-‘ _____._______._â€"â€"â€"â€"-â€"-â€"-â€"â€"â€"-â€" I ++¢++++++ ++++++++ ++++++++++++++++++Hf she's took ‘up this ’ere marriage ' 4* announced Mr. Barker. “Start bein’ confidential like, and talk with a Mr. Robert Tiffin, landlord of the ‘Would that do?" Cat and Cradle, Little I’otlow, was The landlord appeared to be someâ€" question as a kind of pet ’ob‘by, and Q she ain’t to be shook off it.” PIER. P "If that’s the caSe, the only thing tremble in your voice about an early + marriage and a bereavement, what +++++++++++++++H+H+i.upsct you so that you ’aven’t ’ad evidently in trouble. He stood what doubtful on the point. “I’ve looking out. of the window of the thought 0’ something 0’ the sort bar-parlor, drumming his fingers on myself,” he said, “but I dent reck- I can think of is to dig up a wife,” [the ’eart to mention it before. ’Ow the Wire blind and sighing furiousâ€" on anything short of a death certifi- 1y. cate and aphotygraph o’ the tomb- “Dunnj what’s amiss with you stone’d satisfy ’er. You see, we- lflltrCIY, 30b,” came the remark from men are a bit suspicious, and lianâ€" a customer who, with a friend, was in’ this one gettin’ on for twelve engaged in a game of dominoes. months without sayin’ anything “Time was when you used to take about ’avin’ lost a wife, she might a hand and make yourself sociable, fancy that I wasn’t altogether cerâ€" but since you began to take an in tain about‘it.” terest in postâ€"office work you’ve “Well, Robert,” smiled Mr. Bar- bcen a reg’lar wet. blanket.” ker, “that’s a matter what, ought “And time was," rejoined Mr. to be easy to get over. While you’re T‘ifi‘iD, “When people minded their inventin’ a wife’you may jest as Well own business and kep’ silly remarks pitch a tale of a seaâ€"voyage for the to themselves." benefit of ’er ’ealth, and aship what The retort on the tongueâ€"tip of the went down with all ’ands and every gentleman thus reprimanded was inâ€" passenger, your late lamented bein' tcrl‘upted by the appearance in the among ’ein. There couldn’t be no doorway of a chubby-faced, horseyâ€" inquiries for a tombstone and so on looking man, who bade the company then." ’a. cherry good evening. Till‘m pulled away V'igC’l'OUSly at “Tiffin about?” he asked. his pipe for a minute or two, then One of the dominoâ€"players jerked he rose from his chair and shook his his thumb in the direction of the friend solemnly by the hand. “I landlord, who appeared to be so thc'ltght if anybody could find out engrossed with thoughts of weighty a way it’d be you, Jim,” he said. matters as to be unconscious of the "First thing to-morroR I’ll run up chubby man’s arrival. and see 'er.” “Why, Robert, old fellow,’: said And long after eleven o’clock had the stranger, heartily, as he walked struck and the lights were turned across the room and slapped the out in the bar, Tillin and his fellow- landlord on the back, "ain’t you conspirator sat making inroads into got a Welcome for an old friend, the Cat and Cradle’s stock of cigars oh?” and concocting a plausible story of “Blest if it ain’t Jim Barker!” a former Mrs. ’l‘ifiin, who went down gasped Mr. Tillin, turning round and in the good ship- llustard off the holding out his hand. "Been thinkâ€" Canaries, leaving a sorrowing hus- in’ 0’ you this last hour, Jim, band to mourn her loss and eventu- ’anged if I ’adn’t. I’d jest made up ally to seek consolation at the my mind to drop you a line and ask hands of the one woman capable 0f you to run down for a day or two.” giving it”, in the person of the post- “And since I‘ve saved you the mistress of Little I’otlow. postage, and it’s a stifliin walk from Robert Tillin appeared at. breakâ€" thc station-w” Mr. Barker observâ€" fast next morning with a clean- ed, glancing at the shining beerâ€" shaven face, a white rose in his butâ€" engine pulls. ton-hole, and some signs of nerv- “‘Don’t mention it, Jim," interâ€" ousness. rupted 'I'iflin, brightly; "some it "I’ve been thinkin’,” observed Mr. usod to be, I s’pose‘?” Barker, as he helped himself to a Mr. Bark-er nodded. “Don’t. ‘old second ham rasher, which his friend, the glass too far ON the spout,l{0b- in face of the ordeal before hint ert,” he laughed. “Too much froth found too much for his appetiteâ€"- don’t suit my complexion. And ’ow I’Ve been thinkin’, if you ’ad the are things goin’?" ' likeness of any young girl by you, Tiflin’s face clouded. “That’s you might slip it in your pocket. As What' I Wanted to see you about, you said last night, women are a Jim,” he replied; "trade ain’t to trifle suspicious, and anything like he grumbled at, and my ’ealth's all that’ll ’elp you if she gets askin’, right, but ” questions. But whatever you do, “ ’Old ’ard a minute, Robert, ’ol-d don’t hum and ha about the ship- ’ard,” and the chubby man held up wreck. You’ve got it all pat, ain’t his hand. “I guessed there Was you?" somethin’ wrong the moment I saw “You drilled it into me last night you, and if you was to ask me I so,” was the reply, “that I reckon should say you’d come to the conâ€" I could tell the tale backwards. It’s clusion that it’s time you was mar- a good idea about the likeness; you ricd. Ain’t I right, now?" can't be too.careful,” and when the The landlord lifted up the pewter agitated Tiflin was ready to set out barâ€"flap and invited Mr. Barker into for the postâ€"oflice his friend noticed his private room at the back. “You that a portrait of the widowâ€" ain’t goin’ away toâ€"night, of supplanted Lizzie was missing course?" he asked. from it accustomed place on “And not to-morrow, if you can the mantelâ€"shelf. “Now I’m off, put up with me. Why, it must be Jim," announced the landlord, holdâ€" close on two years since I’ve seen ing out his hand.‘ “Wish me luck, you, Wasn’t I right about what mate.” was the matter, Robert?” Mr. Barker made a comical atâ€" Mr. ’I‘iliin sighed. "Never knew tempt to invest his ruddy features such a follow as you, Jim,” he deâ€" with a serious expression. "Good elared. “You've guessed right first luck, .old chap,” he said, grasping time." the outstretched hand; “but don’t "So you’ve made up your mind your conscience smite you a bit to to marry Lizzie after all?” smiled go and stuff a poor widder woman his friend. “You’d look proper silly up with tales 0’ things what never if, after waitin’ all this time, she ’appened,. eh, Robert?” fancied someone else, wouldn’t you?" “Ali's fair in love, Jim, you The landlord plucked nervously at know,” 'replied Tifi‘m, gaily, as he the fringe of his white apron. *"It set off down the street of Little Potâ€" don't ’appen to be Lizzie,” he ad- low, leaving his friend and adviser mitted, rather shamefacedly. pulling away at the red-waxed A whistle came from Mr. Barker. mouthpiece of a church-warden pipe “When there’s two 'oneysuckles to on the front steps of the Cat and one bee,’: he remarked,’ "it’s apt to Cradle, prepared to attend to the lead to trouble.~ I can well underâ€" wants of any early morning custo- stand you not feeling partic’lar com- more who should chance to honor fortable, Robert; but, ’ang it all, the house with a. call. ’ it ain’t ’ardly fair to the girl, is it, Exactly an hour later Mr. Robert new?” Tifl‘m, with a broad smile on his “I don’t think Lizzie’d fret much,” face, walked briskly up the street, replied Mr. 'l‘iflin. “My idea is that and, humming snatches of “Annie she’s jest as ’appy keepin’ ’ouse for Laurie,” stepped into the bar and ’er uncle at Barstaple as she would invited the local postman and a be ’elpin’ me keep the Cat and stranger, who were being greatly en- Cradle. We've never been really en- tertai-ned by his deputy with a gaged, as you may say, and I reck- horsey story, to call for just what- on if she’d ’ad the pick. between, ever they fancied. “Mornin’s like say. fifty pounds and me she’d go this always give me a lit. 0’ generosâ€" for the cash quick. It ain't ’er I’m ity,” he remarked, with a wink at worried about, it’s the other party. his friends. She’s a Widder Woman, you see, “Well?” inqguired that worthy, Jim.” when the two customers, having Mr. Barker shook his head. “Fun- availed themselves of the landlord's ny cattle, widders,” he observed. invitation, had departed. “You wouldn’t call ’er funny .if "Right as rain, Jim,’ answared you was to see 'er,” declared 'the Mr. Tillin. “A ’ungry perch landlord, waxing enthusiastic. couldn’t ’a' swallowed a worm more "She’s all What a woman ought to ready than she (lid that tale. And be, only she’s got the idea into ’er what’s more, she’s promised to be -’ead that widders ain't got any Mrs. Robert Tifiin. You should ’ave right to marry bachelors, and it’s ’eard me describe that there shipâ€" that what keeps me from askin' ’er wreck, Jim, you should, really; I to change ’er name to Tif’fin. If- I reckon you’d a-been jolly proud 0’ -’appened to be a widower, same as your pupil." yourself, I’d go straight up to ’01" “Portrait come in 'andy?" asked ’ouse to-night, and it’d be twenty .Mr. Barker. . pounds to a bad lm'penny she’d say! "Left ’er cryin’ over it, Jim, she fyes,’ but as it is I ain’t got ’alf a ’was that touched. You shall see ’01“ chance unless you can ’elp me to Ito-night. She’s a reg’lar stunner. I work it some’OW.” don’t believe there’s a ’uppier man “Want me to go sad see ’er and in all the country than me." try to convm-w the lady that ’eri Jim Barker held up a finger Warn- idea's wrong, eh‘fN ' iingly. "‘fS-peakiu’ for myself," he de- “You might jest as well try to clal‘od, "I always wait till I’m cerâ€" sink a battleship with a peaâ€"shoot- lain I’ve finished a job before I feel er, Jim,” replied Tif’fin, mournfully. wroperly ’appy. You're only ’alfâ€" “Tall: to 3041' about anything else 'way through yet. ’0w are you goin’ and she’s open to argument. but on about, Lizzie?" “Well, Jim,” replied the landâ€" lord, “you’ve ’elped me so far, and I was thinkin’ p’r’aps you wouldn’t mind runnin’ over to Barstaple and gettin’ ’er to give me my discharge, as you might say. I’m willin’ to pay anything up to fifty pounds for it, and, as I told you before, it don’t strike me there’ll be much difficulty. What do you say? You could catch the tWelve o’clock train and get back ’ere to-night easy. I sha’n’t get a wink 0’ sleep till I know everything's settled satisfac- tory.” “Don’t you ’esitate about makin’ use of me now I ’ave come to see you,” laughed Mr. Barker. "If there’s anybody you ’appen to want shot or p’isoned I shall only be too ’appy to oblige. If ’twas anyone, but you. Robert, I Should jib at the job, and that’s the fact; but as it ain’t, I suppose I must see it through.” “You’ll ’ave plenty 0’ time to look in the postâ€"office on your way to the station,” said 'I‘if’l'in, glancing at. the clocv. “A sight 0’ the future Mrs. T.’ll make the journey [seem all the shorter; but. no tryin’ to cut me out, mind, Jim. ‘Ere’s the fifty pounds to mend Lizzie’s broken ’eart with, and if you can arrange things for anything less I should like you to buy a keepsake with what’s left over in memory 0’ the first Mrs. Tif- lin who went doWn in the Bustard off the Canaries”; and the landlord with a hearty laugh, pushed his friend over the step with a final reâ€" mark to the effect that Mr. Barker was not to suppose the purchase of a penny stamp entitled him to Squeeze the hand of the lady behind the counter. There was no need for the obliging Barker to expend even a halfpenny to obtain a sight of his friend’s promised wife, for the lady in quesâ€" tion happened to be taking advant- age of a slack ten minutes to sun herself on the doorstep. “It's never you, James?" she gasped, when the gentleman on his way to Barstaple stopped in mute surprise as he caught sight. of her. “Amelia!” exclaimed Mr. Barker, recovering his speech. “Well, I nevâ€" er! Fancy me mectin’ you in Little Potlow after ’untin’ for you every- where this last two years!” "Hunting for me, James! Why?” “Can’t you guess why, Amelia?” was the reply. “Weren’t We sweetâ€" hearts from the time We Went to school together till We ’ad a silly quarrel about nothin’, and I married in a fit 0’ temper, and you made an- other man ’appy? I started lookin’ for you when I found myself free again and ’eard you’d lost your ’usband, thinkin’ and 'opinin’â€"â€"â€"-” “You’re too late, James." said the lady, with the suspicion of a sigh. “Don’t tell me you’ve taken anâ€" other ’usban-d, Amelia,” pleaded Mr. Barker. "No, James; not yet,” the lady replied, blushing becomingly. “Why, you never mean to say that you’re the Little Potlow postmis- tress?” groaned her old sweetheart, as the thought struck him that his zeal on. his friend’s behalf had provâ€" ed his own undoing. “I’m sending in my resignation toâ€" night,” answered the lady. “I’ve promised to get married in two months’ time.” “But you’ll change your mind, Amelia,” urged Mr. Barker. "Say you’ve made a mistake; sa.yâ€"â€"-â€"” “No, James,” interrupted the poslmistress. “I won’t. deny that if I’d seen. you yesterday things might have been different; but, as it is, I’ve given my word, and I must keep it.” , . The business Mr. Barker had in hand was suddenly called to mind. "I’m off to Barstaple now," he said, looking at. his watch,,“but I shall be back again to-night. I ain’t takâ€" in’ your answer as final, Amelia. P’r’aps by to-morrow something’ll crop up to make you think differâ€"- out.” It was a very quiet and thought- ful Mr. Barker who journeyed from Little Potlow to Barstaple. As he sat in a corner- seat, filling the carâ€" riage with tobacco smoke, his loyal- ty to Robert Tiflin and his love for his old sweetheart held a battle. roy- al for mastery; and it was not unâ€" til his destination was reached that loyalty finally wont under, and a scheme of compromise was evolved as a slave to a conscience which inâ€" sisted on pricking, despite the freâ€" quent application of Mr. 'J'ifliii’s own dictum that "All’s fair in love.” “It's rough on Robert, I’ll own,” he told himself, “but ’e'll admit when it’s over and done with that I let ’im down as gentle as I could.” And when the return journey was embarked upon he was accompanied by the young lady whose portrait had that morning been left by his friend Tiflin in possession of the Lit- tle Potlow postmistross. “Now, be careful, Lizzie,” en- joined her escort, when, the journey over, they came in sight of the post- oflicc. “In you go, and while you’re bein’ served you must take partic’lar care that the lady be’ind the coun- ter gets a good view of your face. If I ain’t mistaken, she’ll start ask- in’ no end 0' funny questions, but your mind’s got to be a. perfect blank up to the time you found yourself the one and only survivor from the wreck o’ the Bustard, off the Canaries. _You mustn’t remem- ber your name even. She’ll fit you up with one that’ll surprise you, You see if she don't. You’ll be savln’ Robert fifty pounds if everything 0 goes right, but mum’s the word when you see ’im, mind you.” The pestmistress was engaged in making up the day’s accounts when the young lady walked in and asked for a shillingsworth of halfpcnny stamps. One glance at the stranger’s features was su'flicient to bring a look of amazement to her with face, and to cause her to cluth at the counter for support. "A shillingswor~â€"â€"- Oh! Excuse )1 me, she gasped, "but your face! It’s very rude of me, I know, but_ you didn’t have a sister by the name of Tiflinâ€"Mrs. Robert Titlinâ€" did you?” Lizzie shook her head, and in a style that (lid credit to pupil and master alike repeated the story with which. Mr. Barker had made her let- tor-perfect during. the ride from Barstaple. I “My dear, it's providential, and nothing short of it!” -xclai1ned the postmistress when the narration was ended. “Why, do you know, your husband is living within two hunâ€" dred yards of this very house, andâ€"â€"-â€"â€"” "Husband!" cried the genuinely- perplexed Lizzie. “Hus-band, dear,” declared the flustercd little woman, with a shiv- er at the thought of her narrow escape; “and if you’ll wait, just two minutes I’ll slip on my bonnet and take you to him. Only fancy, the poor man has been looking on himâ€" self as a widower this last three years!" Mr. Barker in the meantime had walked up the street chuckling huge- ly. lle found the landlord of the Cat and Cradle eagerly awaiting his return. "Managed it A1, Robert" he de- clared. "Wanted a little bit 0’ smoothin’ down at first, of course; but the fifty pounds did it. She’ll set your mind at rest. ’erself in a minute or so. Nothin’ would satisâ€" fy ’er but that she must come back with me and ’ave a look at the fu- ture Mrs. T. ’Must be a wonderful woman that’d make Robert anxious to get married,’ she says, 'and I’m goin’ to treat myself to a sight 0’ ’er.’ So she’s just called in the post-office while I come straight on to prepare you, like. “What!” shouted Tiliin. “Lizzie here? And in the postâ€"office, of all places!” “Where’s the ’arm, Robert? Where’s the ’arm?:’ asked Mr. Barâ€" ker. , “ ’Armf" came the answer, with a groan. "I ain't blamin’ you, Jim, mind, but I reckon by this time the fat’s in the fire. It was Lizzie’s likeness I left down there this mornin’; it was Lizzie’s face she was cryin’ over. It was Lizzie Who’s supposed to ’a’ gone down in the Bustard and left me broken-’earted; that’s where the 'arm comes in!" Jim Barker’s expression was inâ€" dicative of profound sorrow. “If that’s the case, and the postmistress ’appens to ’ave recognized 'er,” he observed, “it seems to me, Robert, that you’ve come across a ’urdle what you can’t jump. You’re corâ€" nered, anyway. If you own up that you’re a single man the widder’ll cry off, and if you stick to the lost wife tale there's Lizzie and ’er like- ness to upset it. It’s Fate, Robâ€" ert, depend upon it, and who knows but what it’s best after all, eh?” “Fate!” began. ’I‘illin savagely. A whistle from his friend interâ€" rupted him. Mr. Barker, looking down the street, had caught sight of Lizzie and the postmistress hurâ€" rying towards the Cat and Cradle. “It’s all up!" he exclaimed. "Here they come! I shall never forgive myself, old man, never. It’s my blunderin ways what's led up to it. I still always kick myself to think. I:vo robbed an old friend of a couâ€" ple 0’ sweethearts, to say nothing 0’ the fifty pounds Lizzie got. I’m off, Robert; I daren’t face ’em, and that’s the truth.” “Wâ€"what am. I to do?” gasped Tillin. Don’t leave me in a 'ole, Jim, there’s a good fellow.” “ ’Ang it! I'll see you through, Robert, “declared Mr. Barker, in a sudden access of bravery. “If you’ll be guided by me you’ll slip into the back parlor there and I’ll send Lizâ€" zie in to you. Make it up with ’er, Robert. and save your money. I’ll talk over the widder if I ’avc to sacrifice myself to do it. It’ll be a tough job, but you won’t be able to say later on that. your friend didn't do what ’0. could for you. 'Ere they are! Quick!" For one second the landlord hesiâ€" tated. “It’s your only chance, Robâ€" ert,” urged Mr. Barker, hurriedly. “You can’t pick and choose. In the eyes of the law widders are the same as goods, and it’s a. stiflish penalty for tryin’ to obtain ’em.by false pretences." Then, as the click of the latch was heard, Robert Tiflin dived under the counterllap, leaving his self-sacrificing friend Barker to meet the. ladies. * * i U * 0 Two months later there was a double wedding in Little Petlow. "Fancy Mr. and Mrs. Tiflin going through the ceremony a second time,” remarde Mrs. Amelia Barker to her husband. " ’Tis a little bit funny,” replied Mr. Barker, vwith a smile, “but Rob- art and Lizzie both thought it’d be better. You see, Lizzie ain't got the slightest recollection o’ the first.”â€" Lon-don Tit-Bits. â€"+~ ed. _‘____'_____,________,_____â€"â€"â€"â€"â€"â€"-â€"â€"â€"__ ++++e++e+ee+ee+Â¥ee+e+e .mmammn an k%%%%* I HEALTH 1 ftr+eereeeee+e+e++etww SICKâ€"ROOM MEALS. Although it is the function of the physician to indicate the general na- ture of the nourishment to m given. to his patient, the responsibility for the proper feeding of the sick person devolves almost entirely on the nurse, and on her tact and judgment the success of the treatment will depend. Even when the food is cor- rectly prepared, much attention to the‘manner of service is requisite in order to make it tempting to the in- valid. = During illness the things that naâ€" turally stimulate the appetite, such. as fresh air and exercise, are en- tirely lacking, so that every pos- sible means must be used to render the idea of food as agreeable as pos- sible. Chief among these is the care ofthe mouth and tongue. Unless these are kept- scrupulously clean by the use of cleansing lotions, partiâ€" cles of fermenting food are retained, and give rise to much discomfort. This is espec1ally true of milk, the administration of which should al- ways he followed by a cleansing of the tongue with some such prepara- tion as a mixture of equal parts of glycerin. lemonâ€"juice and water ap- plied with a cotton swab. Before bringing in the meal the room should have been put in order as much as possible, the patient’s hands and face sponged off, and the bedclothes and pilIOWS freshly ar- ranged. The tray itself should be decked with the prettiest china, the whitest and freshest linen and the brightest silver the household boasts. Very small portions only should be set before a sick person, for in this way a. greater amount is likely to be. eaten than if the weak appetite is appalled by the sigh’. of Wellâ€"filled plates. In giving liquids to patients un- able to sit up, the head should be raised by slipping the hand under the pillow, instead of directly under the head, as in this way the posi- tion is less constrained and swallow- ing is easier. The conventional sickâ€" feeders with nozzles are usually dis- liked by patients, and in most cases fluids can be taken without much effort through a bent glass tube or from a tumbler only a third full. Here again the patient should not be presented with more than he is likely to drink, as a sick person feels a certain satisfaction in comâ€" pletely emptying his glass. It is often a difficult question to decide whether or not to waken a sleeping patient for food. In most cases it is better to wait, but often a Suf'ferer may be roused sufficiently to take a few swallows, and yet. be able to drop off again and sleep all the more soundly for having receivâ€" ed the nousishment. THE WAY TO KEEP YOUNG. Keep in the sunlight; nothing beautiful or sweet grows or ripens in the darkness. Avoid fear of all its varied forms of expression. It is the greatest enemy of the human race. Avoid excesses of all kinds; they are injurious. The long life must be a temperate, regular life. Don’t live to eat, but eat to live. Many of our ills are due to overâ€" eating, to eating the wrong things, and to irregular eating. Don’t allow yourself tothink on your birthday that you are a year older and so much nearer the end. Never look on the dark side; take sunny views of everything. A sunny thought drives away the shadows. Be a child; live simply and natur- ally, and keep clear of entangling alliances and complications of all kinds. ~ Cultivate the spirit of con- tentment; all discontent and dissatâ€" isfaction bring age furrows pre- maturely. to the face. Form a habit of throwing off be- fore going'to bed at night, all the cares and anxieties of the dayâ€"ev- erything which can possibly cause mental wear and tear or deprive you of rest. HEALTH IS A HABIT. Health is really a habitâ€"that of living right. If we get into the right habit of living we shall have little trouble in keeping ourselves in good condition, physically and men- tally. Once good habits are established the benefits derived from them will prcve so delightful that there will be no temptation to fall back into the old habits. , Get into the habit of breathing properly. It is just as easy to breathe deeply as not» Ex- pand the lungs and fill them full of air as often during the day as you think of it. But good physical habits are. not. all. The mental habits must be regulated. If you are in the habit; of talking about every little ill, pain or ache, stop it at once, and talk health instead. Speak kindly of your body, think that cVery orâ€" gan is in perfect order, doing its work naturally. Don't think that you have to tell somebody. every time your head aches, or your heart , palpitates, or your stomach refuses To make a single wineglassful of to digest some horrid food you have port 5.3. ounces of grapes are requir- forced upon it. There are so many other things to talk about. “filifflfflnhl‘n' “I 5,4 lig’jfiK H,‘ A. . . 1': t w . .I sneak-«awaunnfl '1’" '. h ‘r; v r 'r n ud‘lrrc.n»3r.l- .~,-... v n r. .:“n ri,r-h“~rl~rr . .v .y 3:1.:.‘ (“in _ . I: y- . x"). ,fyth. “3”. . wt Al r. I‘. v, r- ' t- m u ti. 7‘ .-.. L, ., .- ,o n u a as p :v '< -- ‘PIA_.“!’