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my old schoolmates. You will be del- uged with letters, darling. It will be splegdid to bpard; no cares!” L - J. (Kn... "Q‘hk D AVA-unv- Vv .V.,.._ , “It must be,” I assented; “so much leisure at your command. But there’s the carriage. Don’t forget to write often.” And I kissed her repeatedly. “You’ll hear from me every week, all about my new city home; and when I keep house you are to make me such long visits, you know. You mustn’t forget this, my dearest friend, Now, darling Nell, farewell I” -- ua ““5 an u), au.vu W.-. “Goodâ€"by! God bless you!” I an- swered, less romanticaily, but quite as ferventlyâ€"I think now far more sin- cerelyâ€"than the bride of an hour, who tore herself from the embrace of my clinging arms, and then turned to re- ceive the adieux of her family ere she was handed to the carriage by her tall, handsome, city husband. “Farewell, darling, till you hear from me 1” she added, leaning a moment from the window of the vehicle wherein sat the bridal partyâ€"herself, husband, and his two stylish sistersâ€"then were whirled away to the railroad depot. It sounded very pathetic, this parting salutation to meâ€"Ellen Brewster, Laura Dashington’s most intimate friend; and my eyes were quite wet as I gazed after them a minute, then turned from the house whence had gone out a bride, and bent my steps homeward to my mother’s modest little cottage. 7 A “ " ‘I‘I ,jJEA.‘ “My Most Intimate Friend. It- had been a fashionable wedding for our quiet Ashbrook; and, with most of Laura’s schoolmates at the seminary, I had been invited to her father’s pre- tentious mansion, for Jonas Holman had amassed quite a little fortune by dint of fortunate business capacity, and stood the moneyed man, par excellence, of the town. But I had a greater claim than many of the guests to the pretty bride’s favor, for we had been intimate friends from the day I entered school; and though Laura’s junior by two or three years, she had chosen to attach , herself to me by the strongest protest- ations of regard." Indeed, we were the feminines for Damon and Pythias, and almost one and inseparable. Hardly a day passed but found Laura at our pretty cottage, where I lived with my gentle widowed mother and younger brother Willie, or me at her more ele- gant home. Thus it came to pass that I conceived I had a special right to be miserable when Laura married. “And I shall hear from you often The husband whom Laura Holman had selectedâ€"or, rather who had se~ lected herâ€"was a. handsome, black- whiskered, showy man, seven or elght years her senior, of the firm of Loud, Talk, Dashington 00., importers, Boston. From the time Laura had met him, two years previous, while on a visit to a city auntâ€"from which visit she returned in love with city lifeâ€"it had been my firm belief that she would marry and make her home there; and when Mr. Dashington made his appear- ance at the Ashbrook Hotel, one Sat- urday, and was seen in Mr. Holman’s pew the next Sabbath, as Laura’s escort, the element of Ashbrook population who devoted themselves to the especial charge ot love matters voted it “an engagement.” And an engagement it proved to be, a fact which was promptly 1 imparted to me in a dainty note Laura sent over to our cottage, one snowy day, by her little brother Frank, for the drifts were too deep to permit her coming in person; and time passed, and Laura went to Boston to purchase her outfit, and her dresses Were pronounced by Miss Price, the Ashbrook dress- maker, as “the loveliest things she had ever made upf’ and at length the fate ful day arrived, and Laura stood up a girl and sat down a bride. As I said, it was a very fashionable morning wedding for Ashbrock. We supposed that the bridegroom’s city sisters had a good deal to do with that. The parlors were, darkened, and the soft beams of solar lamps lent a subdued light; the bridal dress and veil were rich, and Laura locked, as all brides do, sweet and interesting; the Misses Dash- ingtonâ€"Grace and Eloiseâ€"were per- fect in their responsible role of brides- maids; and the cake, wine, wedding cards, et cetera, were of the most approved order of their kind. I even cherished the fancy that my own fresh white mulle, with my blue sash, looked pretty, and suitable, and very becoming to me. So the wedding passed 03 with eclat, ‘ and the glare of day had again been let into Jonas Holman’s parlors, and the carriage had whirled them and their trunks to take the A. M. train for Boston, and I, Laura’s most intimate and now most disconsolate friend, was walking homeward, quite mournful, in the bright, bland, October morning. All at once a. fOOthLll overtook mine on the leaf-strewn sidewalk, and I looked up to behold Esquire Abbot walking beside me. He was one of our BY MARY W. JANVRIN. always cry at weddings, Miss Ellen,” he continued, presently, stooping down to pick up a. brilliant maple leaf that floated down on the sidewalk just before uvuuv“ “v -- __ - him. “ Laura. Holman is a pretty, cleverish sort of girl, but not deep; hardly the one for you to mourn for.” And he turned and looked full into my tear-stained face, provokingly revealed by a light wind blowing my veil aside just then. “Laura. is my most intimate friend, Mr. Abbot,” I answered haughtily. “Yes, yes, I see,” said my cynical companion. “I’ve seen all this before; but, Miss Ellen, did it ever occur to iyou what is usually the end of such i school-girl friendships?” Upuvvn -- - ____, “Wfiatr’ I ggkea, with a little as- perity of manner. A “Oh, a sort of natural death; they fade out like this.” And he stooped again and, picked up a. sere, brown, withered leaf which lay on the vivid green grass border of our path. Ana-AAG-L:nn1]\7 I now '_ v_, up“ b-uâ€" _, - “Never!” I answered, empathically. “Laura is married, to be sure, and gone to a new home, and will have new *7 - - -n 1,,,-___ LAIJ .. Bung» vv vâ€" _-, __ ties, but I know he will always hold a large place in her heart for her most intimate school-girl friend. You say this because you are too calculating and old for such friendships yourself, Mr. Abbot.” Esquire Abbot smiled a little, 3 sad weary sort of a smile, then said: “ Per- haps you are right. Pardon my un- welcome prophesies, Miss Ellen. Thirty five and seventeen judge differently. And yet I fancied I was connoisseur enough in human nature to detect its different kinds, and that your heart and Laura Holman’s--pa.rdon! Mrs. Albert Dashington’sâ€"were made of dissimilar material. Time will prove; and, if the thought pains you, may it also prove me a false prophet l” ' _-___L I felt a little ashamed of my impet- uosity, a. little vexed at my want of respect toward Esquire Abbot, and also not a little flattered at his implied compliment to myself, so I said, to turn the subject: “What a splendid Indian summer day, Mr. Abbot!” “Yes, glorious ! These days are the wine of the year.” he replied, sending the gaze of his dark eyes up to the golden, hazy sky, the trees in their gorgeous autumn livery, and drinking , in along draught of the bland, delicious ---"-"'_C , I air. “Your Ashbrook woods are grand; that line of ash and maples crowning the hill yonder on the outskirts of the town looks like a battle array of kings, in crimson and scarlet robes full pano- pied, and flaunting their banners on the air. My morning’s client cheated me out of the wedding, but the after- noon is at my disposal. Are you too absorbed. in the memories of Mrs. ‘Albert Dashington to accompany me in ; a forest stroll after dinner, Miss Ellen?" We had paused at the corner of a street; Esquire Abbot to bend his steps to the postoflice for the morning’s mail, and I to strike off into the pleasant avenue leading homeward. “ I should be delighted with the walk, Mr. Abbot. but, pray, Why do you think”â€"-â€"here I hesitated a littleâ€"“ what makes you imagine Laura and I so unlike?” “ Ah, the wound rankles !” he said, smiling. “Did I say unlike? No; yet you are so. I can hardly explain, now. Wait two, three, or five years, and we’ll talk further of this. Tell your mother that your godfather is to take charge of you for a stroll in the autumn woods this afternoon. Good morning.” And he walked rapidly down the street. “Esquire Abbot is thirty-five years old, then,” I mused, as I went home- ward. “Well, I should have said he was full as old; that is, I should have thought so if I had thought at all.” That was it reader; I had néver thought of his age, or of him save as a good, pr, W lawyers, a grave, pleasant; [elderlv gentleman, whom my nan, and had been mother regarded with respect, and who y fatherly and kind to me; but O .. amn'nQ us. a. man as he walked down the street I mused ___-. “1. THE WATCH-MAN. LINDSAY, THURDSAY, MAY 23 That was a golden afternoon to me in the October woods. Even the pres- tige of Laura’s wedding was quite out of mind; the artificial light of Jonas Holman’s parlors was put to shame by the golden lances the sun shot down through quivering tree-boughs; the crimson of his moreen curtains was outâ€" hued by the glow of the blood red maples and sumachs; the softness of their carpet rivalled by the elastic wood moss; and the silver plate from which was served the bridal cake would have been dull beside the sheen of the sunlit brooks leaping down the hillsides or winding through the glades. And Esquire Abbot was less Cynical and more companionable than usual the hours of that golden-hearted Oc- tober afternoon. ' “Better than parties or wedding festivals, thisâ€"eh, Miss Ellen “l” He said, seating himself on an old log gray with hoary wood moss, beside the noisy brook that ran through the forest, and tossing .me a splendid spray of cardinal flower he had leaned over to pluck from the bank. “When I am gone from Ashbrook, you won’t forget this afternoon’s walk in these grand old woods, will you, Miss Ellen 2” “Gone! leave Ashbrook! You are not going away, Mr. Abbot 2” I asked, in surprise, for I had heard nothing of this intention hitherto. “ Why, I thought you liked and had settled in Ashbrook l” ‘.â€"--â€"._ “ I do like this pleasant quiet oldl town, and at one time supposed I had fixed, not exactly my household gods, but my red-tape divinities here, Miss Ellen; but, like some ministers, I find that I have had ‘a louder call.’ And3 yet don’t suppose that it’s money merely that tempts me away 3 for, per- haps you know, I’ve a competence my dear old father left me, and, besides, were it not so, I am one of those who have learned to be rich with little. There are better things than money can bring us, Miss Ellen, in this life, ‘ and by these I mean sweet friendships, l confidences, and perhaps dearer dreams, or, maybe, one day a merging of dreams into realities ”â€"and for a moment his grave face grew glowing with mobile expression as his eye fell on me, then he looked away to the crimson sumachs across the brook. “It isn’t the hope of gain from a wider sphere of my pro- fession, but the breadth of life and depth of experience one meets in a larger acquaintance with human nature. Besides, an old friendâ€"Judge Graves -â€"urges me to become his partner; so, Miss Ellen, I have just decided to open my new office in Boston.” I did not say one word, sitting there by his side on the old moss-covered log that afternoon. It was so sudden. He had been so long with usâ€"three yearsâ€" an age to my light girlhood, and I had never thought of change coming to our quiet, happy cottage. “You will miss your old godfather a little at first, but your mother will be answering my letters on business, and you can inclose a little note now and then to let me know how you are get- ting on with your studies, for I shall feel interested in everything here still, Ellen.” “Oh, certainly,’ I sa1d,contusedly, like one talking in a broken dream; and then added, more by way of making conversation than because I thought of a third party then, “You will see Laura often in Boston?” “Perhaps,” he said, half smiling, “though the city is not quite like Ash brook, and one don’t get too intimate with their neighbors. I shall hear of your coming down some day to buy your wedding fineryfleh, Miss Ellen 9” “ My first trip to Boston will be t visit my old friend when she is at housekeeping,” I answered curtly, and tossing my head with what I fancied an assumption of dignity. ‘ “ 0110, that is promised, then 2 Well, I shall promise also to enact the god. father still, unless the young gallants find an old man in their way. I shall know when you are in town. Let us go home, now, and acquaint your good mother with my plans, Miss Ellen. Why was it that the homeward walk through the October woods was so much gloomier than the going? Why had the golden haze that had filled all the air changed to dull gray gloom? The sun had not yet set, and long lances were striking aslant through the maples and sumachs, and the mountain ashes were heavy with their fruit; but all seemed dull, and dead, and sere. My head ached all the evening, and‘ I shaded my eyes from the light by‘ which my mother sewed, with serious countenance, at the little round table, exclaiming every now and then her' sorrow at IOSing Mr. Abbot, who had gone down to his office to busy himself in packing up his papers. Willie, even, neceived a short answer tossome triflifig request about his skates he was prepar- ing. in two months’, anticipation of hard ice, and muttered: “How cross it makes you, Nell, to go to a wedding 1 Frank Holman ate so much wedding- cake he’s sick enough tonight; but seems to me you needn’t have gone there, and got a real cross old headâ€" achefi’ 01 him close in Boston; yet letters came regularly to my mother, proving that, amid his cares, we were yet in his thoughts. ' Do not jest with your wife upon a sub- ject in which there is danger of wounding her feelings. Remember that she treasures every word you utter. Do not speak of some virtue in another man’s wife to re- mind your own of a fault. Do not reproach your wife with personal defects, for, if she has sensibility, you inflict a. wound difiicult to heal. Do not treat your wife with inattention when in company ; it touches her pride. and she will not respect you more or love you better for it. Do not upbraid your wife in the presence of a third person ; the sense of your disregard for her feeling will prevent her from ac- knowledging her fault. Do not entertain your wife with praising the beauty and ac- complishments of other women. If you would have a. pleasant home and a cheer- ful wife pass your evenings under your own roof. Do not be stern and silent in your own house and remarkable for socia- bility elsewhere. How amusing to notice as one walks the crowded streets how that nearly every lady carries her pocket-book in her hand. But for the well-known fact th “2 they generally have very little money in them, and are mainly stuffed out with receipts for cake, memoranda of articles to be gotten while shopping, bits of poetry cut from news- papers, and such trifles, valuable only to the owners. we can think of no greater temptation to the street thief than to j snatch from their slender fingers the light- ly held articles. Then, as though women hadn’t care enough about their clothes, they generally carry a few small packages besides. It is almost a rarity to see a man go along the street with his arms fettered with bundles ; it is almost an equal rarity to see a woman entirely free from them. 1 Hence a walk usually invigorates a man ‘ and fatigues a woman. The main difference is in pockets. Every possible nook and. corner of a man’s suit that can be so utiliz- ed has a neat, safe, substantial pocket in it. He puts his watch. his money, his handkerchief, his knife, and all other little personal conveniences safely away in these; he has no further concern for their safety. He is not constantly asking, ‘ Did I lay down my purse here ?” 0r “ Have you seen my handkerchief?” His clothes are organized just like his work. After youg O'et angry and make up yourl mind to stop, your paper, just poke your finge1 in w ate1 and then pull it out and look for the hole. Then you know 110w sadly you are missed. A man who thinks a paper cannot survive without his sup- port ought to go OH and stay away awhile. When he comes back he will find that half ‘ his friends did not know he was gone ; the other half did not care a cent, and the world at large did not keep any account of his movements. You will find things you cannot endorse in every paper. E" en the Bible is rather plain and hits some hard licks. If you were to get mad and burn your Bible the hundreds of presses l would still go on printing them , and if you were to stop your paper and call the editor all sorts of ugly names, the paper would still be published , and what is more you’d sneak around and borrow a copy of it every week from your neigh- bour. It would be much better to keep your vest pulled down and your subscrip- tion paid up in advance. â€"â€"Ex. By breathing hot air at about 212 de grees for two hours daily it is said that consumption can be radically cured. Suggestions for Husbands. Her Pocket-Book. T o be continued Stop My Paper. to credit to the 0 3, 1889. We will sellvfor the next 30 DAYS our well known and Well selected stock at prices that will astonish every one. Our $35 Bed-room set for $2 5. Everything in froforz‘z’on for Me flexz‘ 30 days ' Come along and you will get a Bargain. _ ANDERSON, NUQENTfiAGO. OWEN McGARVEYcSz Son, I :w That the success of every business man depends upon his ability to advertise cannot be gainsaid. Indeed the efiicacy of printers’ ink lies in its proper application. The man who knows how to advertise the goods he really keeps, and not the goods he does not keep. is the man who will thrive best. M'any merchants nowadays judiciously spread their ads-m. ment all over a popular newspaper; but when the buyers visit their places they find that their best goods exist only on paper. This class of men know how to pay for an “ad.” but they do not know how to advertise. It is a rare thing to find a house that comes up to its advertisement in these times, and rarer still are those that the advertisement does not come up to. During my travels in search of news I have found one of the rarer specimens, and the way I happened to find it was through the following unique advertisement:â€" “Carrie, dear,” said her father, and he said it with a good deal of satisfaction, “ William asked me for your hand last night, and I cemented.” “Well, Pa, that’s the first bill of mine you havn’t objected to.” Carrie had evidently not been purchasing her from OWEN McGARVE Y dc SON, Nos. 1849, 1851 d: 1853 Notre Dame Street, or there would have been no oly'ection to the bills sent. Owen McGarvey db Son carry a most complete stock of parlor, dining-room, library and faacy articles, such as the most bea utiful odd-piece suites, in plushes of all the newest shades, with ladies’ desks, easels, statuette tables, gilt chairs, ottomans and piano stools, with the newest and largest assortment of rat: n rockers, easy chairs, reclining chairs, swing cots, cribs, and a full line of the very much ado mired bent furniture from Vienna, Austria, and their prices are aclmowledged the rhea}- estâ€"quality consideredâ€"in the city; and to provide for Carrie and W'illie’s further and future wants, we have now daily arriving, the very finest stock of O”) ‘7, 26s ever on view in this city, varying in price from 7', 8.50, 10, 12, 14, 16, 18, :20, M, ~ , 30, 35, 40, 45, 50, 6'0, 7'5 and up to 85 dollars, the highest priced ones the finest stglze' and finish yet made in the United States, will be found at Owen McGarvey (f: Son’s olu‘estand a'rgest furniture store in the city. When I read this advertisenwnt my curiosity was naturally aroused, and I went to McGarvey’s ezpecting to find, as I had found elsewhere, the best of his goods to era'stoon taper; but I was mistaken. I found that the advertisement did not come up to tin housa and that it takes six spacious flats to hold the very best of his goods which are not 2m attend in the advertisement. For example, there is no mention made of the pieces offnrm'twr; that captured foreign medals at tne various exhibitions. There is a mention made ofthyfact that Owen McGarvey A”: Son can furnish a house from bottom to top, but there is 7w 7m mien made of the fact that the goods are substantially the stock from which. the. sam pl cs an taxi-tn that brought the firm several bronze and silver medals, together with a diuloma for (mp-ifs‘ifé workmanship. The prizes were awarded by the Paris, Belgium and Indian L‘oloz.z‘u? £1; hibitions. Afr. McGarvey, who by the way is a most afiabl: rntlr‘rran, tool; nu flaw/git every one of his sixflats, where I had the pleasure of inspecting son-e of thefinest j urnftzm’ I have ever seen, and that’s saying a good deal when the fact is considered that I isuzw saw some of tne very best New York afiords. The pieces of furniture that too]: the prim, a cut? of which is given above, consists of a drawing room chair and a centre table. The table is'made of ebony, with sides of free ornamental scrollwo-rh earring. the legs m'mq‘lmlu. treated tn onhn'nh brass claws are attached. and the chair is of that kind known 05 U 'wwwlo‘w Hot/ow wuuuo, Wtwwvu VJ w w- ww vnv - vv..- w“.-. v.--“ .V .w... a .-.V--- J The table is'made of ebony, with sides of free ornamental scrollwo-rk earring. the legs similarly treated, to which brass claws are attached, and the chair is of that kind hmu‘il 05 wire backed, upholstered very richly in crimson and old gold brocatelle. The real merit and beauty of these articles is beyond my power of descrijfz'm. In order that the rea beauty of the elegant furniture may be seen to advantage. Mr. luau-res! has a portion of his second flat divided into apartments. These are furnished with > W ('J' his best furniture in such a way as to resemble a palatial dwelling. A parlor. fining: room, bed-room and even the hall-way are so luxuriously arranged as to szzggist the Tic/1 blessings of a home made beautiful by the evquisite touch of the experienced itOltsa u-{zl 17m apartments are models of perfection, and any housekeeper who gets a view of than £555 W” reen with envy. After making a tour of the various departments on the upper flats u‘e mad. U 5 - 31"» in the handsome elevator to the first floor, where the pleasant recollection of child/'1' ~07 (70 came up before me like a dream, when I beheld the perfect gems of baby carriages <7 :31??th to public view. ' I wished a wishâ€"but then ’twere iain, . To wish one’s self a child again. . I must confess that never since I was an “infant terrible” was I so conzplddy ”7777:? away with a baby carriage. I will not attempt to describe any one in particular. 7‘1" Ml venture to say that any one of them would take a prize at an exhibition if held to-mormc and this is not saying a great deal. What the Proper Application of Printers' Ink has Produced -A model piece of Furniture that Captured Foreign Medals. W' m Fm ~~~~~ RNITURE.‘ BABY CARRIAGES AND PERAMBULATORS W/zat a Correspondent says of T/Ee Home of ome and see our great Bargains in Household Furniture 1849, 1851; and 1353 Notre Dame Street, Mon‘EI‘CE-L 0111‘ $20 one for $15. OWEN MOGARVEY 8! SUN, Kent St, Lindsay. J. A. ARNEA UX mi}: H0?“ If< of