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)I Once a Christian was heard to remark In a somewhat self-satisfied way. “I am glad that I am what I am And where I am also to-day.” A preacher who heard the remark, And had heard it for years, we may say, In experience meetings, and such, From church members, both cleric and lay, Felt constrained at this juncture to rise, As before he had oft felt inclined, And reply in the following strain, “Which, he hoped, they would not think “Brother, tell us where are you and what Kind of life do you live day ’by day? Are you living and growing and strong, If not, tell us why not I pray? “Is your temper improving? If so, You’ll have better control of your tongue, And something fresh always to say; N ow, how are you getting along? “You have said you have your ups and downs; But when up, how high do you climb? And, when down, how low do you sink, And how long stay down at a time? “We haye frequently heard you confess That you do things you ought not to do, And leave things quite often undone, That you seem every Sunday to rue. “But what are the things you have done? For, open confession, they say, Does good to the soul, more than all You can say in a general way. “Do you mean you drink whiskey, or take In a horse trade a kind neighbour in? Do you always speak kind to your wife, And fault finding hold as a sin? “Are you worldly, and selfish, and mean,! Or, kind and forgiving, and good? Are you gentle and Christlike at home, 0r gruff, and repellant, and rude? “Kindly ponder these thoughts when alone, And keep striving to follow the Lamb. And you’ll say something more to the point Next time, than, I am what I am.” 0 you class meeting people, who run So frequently into a rut, Sufi), think, is it truthful at all? ad I not better keep my mouth shut. Till the Lord gives me something to say That will help some poor soul in sore need, And redound to the glory of God “"110 would have me a Christian indeed? â€"â€"Pac7;et. After a. while, from the nebulze of men I met, two resolved into positive friends, whom it was a pleasure to meet. All the world professed to see my preference for George Buckingham. He was what Sallie Venarr and her set call handsome; his beauty attracted, his manner flattered me. He grew infatuated, but I only amused; ember because I was sure of him, and puzzled by his friend, or from the instinct of coquetry. I always favored Mr. Nixon. About this latter personage there was. at this time, something extremely pro, voking. I, continually on the verge of an active dislike of him, was never to arrive at any positive state of mind, I thought. He touched me on my But it was from George Buckingham I gained that half-adoring admiration no woman can ever utterly withstand; certainly not a young girl as new to the world, and the ways of its men, as I. \Vhen Fanny, my only sister and dearest friend, married Professor Ogden, I followed her from our painful seclusion into another life. Society bewitched me. My sister let me grow like a fern in the hot shade, and I put out all manner of premature fronds. She had been restricted until the very glance of her eye became deprecatory; she meant to give me the freedom never known by herself. So I winged my way. I allowed George Bucking- ham to wrest concessions from me, and wondered why Nixon, from the most attentive, though provoking of cav- aliers, scarcely approving, yet never absent, had become the most indifi‘er ent of friends. sorest points, handled my opiniofis roughly, but pleased me, as no one else had done, at times. It grew towards tea-time. I, in a dreamy mood before the fire, was look- ing out at the amber west, and won- dering whence came that peculiar green tint seen in no other but a winter’s sky. My brother-in-law came to the door and put the dear old face inside. “is Fan asleep l” dropping his voice. There’s young Buckingham down stairs; you must look after him, then, keep him to tea, Rosey; Nixon and I will meet him there.” I rose, shaking myself as discon~ tentedly as Zeph does when roused from his nap on the Turkey rug, and followed down the stairs. Mr. Nixon was waiting for his professor; a low bow was the sole exchange between us; I measured my manner by his. I had thought him presumptuous on slight favor; he should never count on mine so surely. He opened the door of the parlor without a word, and, as I passed in one short glance I stole at his face. unkind. Get Out of the Rut. ‘g’oefrp. NIXON. I don’t know what expression I looked for; I found tranquil indifi‘erence, which did not alter as he witnessed Mr. Buck- ingham’s elastic start towards me.â€"his seizure of my hand. “You don’t look pleased to see me, Miss Carhampton,” said George, as the door closed. “Don’t I? It’s not so long a. time since I’ve had that pleasure that I can be violently agitated on the subject. You were here this morning.” “I thought women only were un- sound 1n their estimate of time. You never are correct in yours; it was forty. two minutes, sir, you stayed, and had to run to your recitation; I saw you from the side window.” “Come, don’t be severe on a poor fellow. If you want me to go now, send me off.” “I am forbidden. Oh, Mr. Buckâ€" ingham! where did you:D Get that lovely rose?” I exclaimed, for othc first time noticing an exquisite cream- color, with a. damask flush 1n the halfâ€" shut centre leaV es. “Only to bring back Bryant; I did not stay a moment.” “I wish the professor would give me a. lovely rose.” At this I blushed like a fool; he looked at me just long enough to make it worse, then gently took my hand, which I quickly snatched from him, and, walking to the door, said:â€" He gave it into my hand saying, in his peculiart half‘hfasmating toneâ€"â€" “ I must get a. vase of water for the flower; come into the other room, Mr. Buckingham, it is much pleasanter.” He came After in a. véry dissatisfied way, and was thrown off the track for that evening, at least. “How is Miss Venarr?” I asked, as I filled a. Pompeian vase with water. “I saw you out walking with her yes- terday. Is her ankle well, or does it still need attendance?” He hastened to explain. “I overtook her crossing the Park; I didn’t even ask. Do you know Nixon has taken her up 3‘" “I thought he could spare no time from his studies to attend to destitute young women; at least, he hinted as much.” “ He can find time enough; he says he is determined to find out what is in that girl, he says she flirts too much." “She 'will bé shown new points in her phiIOSOphy if Mr. Nixon undertakes her improvement.” - “ Do_ you want to know what he says of you?” asked Buckingham, with a smile in his blue eyes. “ Well, what is it “l” “ I almost forget. You are a. rose that pricks one’s fingers when suddenly or wrongly touched, full of thorns, but of a. most sweet savor.” “Yes, and more; but I must not tell you the rest, it will make you angry.” of course I was doubly anxious to hear the reserve, but Buckingham kept his friend’s counsel. “ You must, have a. charming time talking us over. Why doesn’t Mr. Nixon write a tract, he has become such an ardent missionary to young ladies? Do ask him, with my compli- ments. ” “Did he say all that '2” was my light rejoinder, bet somehow I felt grieved. “ Oh, you’re vexed with him! I’m glad of it. I have felt like pitching him out of the window many a. time when I’ve seen him keep you to him- self the whole of an evening.” “ Don’t you get savagefhe is to be here to tea, and the professor said I was to keep you.” “The prefeSSOr is a. brick,” ejaculated the yOung man; then, “I beg your pardon.” “ Oh, you needn’t; a. brick is a. term of compliment, is it not T’ Here entered Fanny, with a dignified “ Good evening, Mr. Buckingham.” She seated herself at a table, and began to work. We tried to talk, but found it a hard matter, for Fan, when she was pleased, was the most perfect negative. There was no rising above it tonight. We were all glad when Professor Ogden and Nixon answered the tea summons still out of soundings in some scientific subject. Afterwards I went off to a side light anda. sofa, and George followed, under pretence of holding my worsted. Fannie’s eyes coursed him; something did not suit her. That. night she hesitatingly prefaced, “Rose, seems to me Mr. Bucking- ham IS here a great dea. ” I drew myself up for a. lecture. “Well, Mrs. Fanny, what of it P” “ Five times a. week, Rose, to say nothing of chance encounters, and walkings to the gate.” “Perhaps I 'am foolisfi, dear, but I wish it were otherwise with you. Why “ I cén’t help 'it Fan; I can’t send him home.” “You don’t want to help it,” she said, with a sigh. “ He is desperately in love, and you encourage him. I hate to have your name so connected with students; if you can’t give him a hint, let me.” “ Oh l” A delicate, annoyed flush faded from henc‘heek as she lool_<ed_up to me. THE WATCHMAN, LINDSAY, THURSDAY, JULY 18. 1889. did you rebufl' Mr. Nixon so com- pletely 2” ~ - “ I did not.” “Something has changed him; I thought it must be some haughty way of yours that had wounded him.” “ Fanny, Mr. Nixon takes up young ladies to study as the Germans do bugs, who, when the examination is finished, let the unhappy being fly, or transfix it by a. pin, as they choose. I suppose Mr. Nixon has closed his study dime, or his interest in the problem has flagged. I can’t bear him, and I do like George Buckingham.” ' “There was an honest girl,” pro- nounced the professor, who stood with silent, slippered feet behind; “ I like young Buckingham, too. Mrs. Fanny, what whim have you in your head ’2” Yes, I thought I loved him. As we think of our first love I thought of him, Youth, beauty, and a host of unexplained sympathies bewitched me. It was dearly sweet to be watched over; to have every word or gesture become of infinite importance; to see in soften- ing eyes how complete was my triumph. Now I have outgrown the self of that time, and wonder at my blindness. But now was not then. My sincerity was equal to my delusion. He led me to talk, for love made him svmpathetic; I would lay my heart and mind open to the dimmest corners (and some were very dim indeed), hardly noticing that his answers were too often by the eyes alone. There comes a time in the history of some naturesâ€"call it a kind of refined egotismâ€"when they must speak of doubt and essay, hope and failure. One confides on paper to the public; I to the one who loved to listen, and who fully understood me, I be- lieved. What man ever comprehends the woman nearest his heart? He guesses at her, accepts, admires, but never knows “one-half the reason why she smiles or sighs.” I soon recovered from my absurd belief in George’s superhuman appre- hension, but not until I had promised to marry him. The tremendous ques- tion had come at last, that had been silently asked and answered every day for the last two months. I think, even then, he would never have brought the matter to the touch had it not been for Mr. Nixon. I saw some delicate finess- ing on that gentleman’s part. He took it into his head to covet my attention again, and often interrupted and pre- plexed George, in the midst of some confidential statement. A feeling of uneasiness gave the lagging mind decision. I had promised to marry him; there was the unalterable fact. I could not avoid it, shrink as I might. Six months of delicious confusion had passedâ€"now the turmoil was over; I resumed old employments with a zest; circumstances ceased to hinge on him. I took the dimensions of my hero. Because I could criticize, was I no longer in love? In vain I tried to swing back to the old feelingsâ€"they had died out; there was nothing but the ashes of a flimsy passion. The suspense that had kept him a. little bptter than himself was over; his mind at rest forever, sunk to its level. My duty lay plain; by whatever wretch- ed mistaking of myself I had given an unconditional promise, I was bound to keep to it. He came, with his shawl over his arm, to bid me good bye. It was our first separationâ€"the beginning of a series; for, until that fortune was made I was to share, we would be much apart. He looked at‘ me from his height, so handsome, so miserable, so tender, that the test words I had re- solved to speak half died away “George," I began, my voice trem- bling in spite of my care, “do you think we feel for one another as we used? Had we not better, after all, call it a. college flirtation, andâ€"-” Holding both my hands â€"“ I ex- pected something like this, Rose,” he interrupted, “but you gave me your word. You know I never can release you; that bond cannot be cancelled. You promised me, Rose.” I bent my head. “You expect too much of yourself; you have read too many romances; I always thought your ideas too high- fi0wn. Don’t think how you ought to feel, but just keep firm. I know you love me, but if you hated me I could be happy with you; but you don’t.” “ Oh, how very young we both were ! “ 0 no, no 1” I hastened to answer. “Rosey, if you could change, it would be the ruin of me. My life and hopes are in your keeping.” His eyes were cloudy with tears. Is it not; cruel treachery to bring a man’s nature under yours so, by every thrall make him doubly your own, and when there is no escape for him, find out for yourself that you have made a. mistake? Should not such. an error be expiated by pain. “ Very well George, if you are sat- “ Satisfied! I should rather think I was. Never speak so again, Rosey, unless you want to drive me crazy.” So the bonds were clenched. Was it a sigh of relief I drew as I tossed my trouble, for the nonce, into the future, and turned to the figures n coming up the avenue. ? Sallie Venarr, swingmg her perusal, and talking, according to custom, to ~ Mr. Nixon. She had just met Mr. Buckingham, with such a. doleful face, and couldn’t help coming ta’ have a peep at mine. Was horror stricknn at my composure. “Miss Carhampcon néver ldoks as one may expect, I’ve noticed,” said Mr. N lxon “Do I?” asked Sallie, who never lost the least chance of gaining inform- ation about herself. “Always Euphrosyneâ€"always gay and smiling,” he explained, as he saw she did not understand his allusion. Sallie pulled on a sober mask. “I believe I am sober only in church,” said she. “Hardly then.” “How do you know l” she retorted. “If you were minding your prayers, you would not.” I was angry for her. How could she allow any man to address her in that tone of half sarcastic compliment, and look down into her eyes till they drooped from a feminine instinct! I half envied her insouciance. Like an insect angel, she sported all day long. I never saw her hands at work, never knew her to be in a hurry; day after day she came with the same swinging walk and happy idleness of demeanor. She affected Fan, and brought Nixon too often, to torture me and carry on her pretty waxfare. “ Perhaps I pray to one fair saint, and therefore look at her. Let me see how the new expression suits.” “Rose looks much more like a saint than I do,” deprecated the young lady. “I think so, most emphatically, Miss V’enarr; you are a very pretty sinner thoug ,” Still keeping his eyes on her. “Don’t forget my party, Thursday night, Rose,” was her injunction. “I’m sorry Mr. Buckingham could not be with you;you will have such a stupid time. )2 “Explain the reason, Nixon de- manded. “Why,” she answered, with achann- ing moue, “because engaged girls always do have. Nobody wants to dance with them. There’s no fun in it, at all.” “Indeed,” said Mr. Nixon, with an odd intonation in his tone. Sallie’s house was within sight, and before I left the piazza Mr. Nixon came back and talked to me till I felt like writing a poem. It was one of the old time interviews photographed. Iwon- dered for the thousandth time what had so strangely changed him, forI could not believe the opinions I had uttered of him, after all. Suddenly he chinked the current coin. “You have concluded to forgive me, I conclude,” said he in a livelier tone. “ Forgive ycu. For what?” “ I thought you knew; vour manner has kept me off for months. It is only. since your engagement has become a settled fact that you have dispensed kinder influences. I am back in your good graces, I hope, if I cannot stand where I did before you made Buckingâ€" ham so happy.” . “Coldness is as subtile as the plague,” quoth he, “ and about as effective- There is no use now in begging an ex- planation of some mlsty points on which I have lost all right to ponder. Accept me now as your friend’s friend.” T o be concluded Next wee/c. Mr. Thomas Skinner, of London, Eng., director of the Canadian Pacific railway, Royal Commissioner of Crofter immigra- tion, and chairman of the Canadian N orth- West Land Company, has just returned from a trip with Mr. Van Horne through the Canadian North-West. He is staying at the Windsor, and has nothing but praise and admiration for the country he visited. “I am not an enthusiast,” he said, “and am usually very careful in giv- ing my opinion, but I must acknowledge that I was astonished at what I had seen, and that it surpasses any statements that have ever been made in England re- garding it. The prospects are simply grand and the possibilities unlimited. The time of doubt about the country’s future is past, and there is no doubt but that any amount of capital will be invested.” Re- ferrinc,r to the annexation cry, he said that it seemed ridiculous to anyone who had seen the resources of the great North- West, where there was room for a nation. Still, the more the Americans became aware of the riches it contained, the more they would try to convince the natives that annexiation was the thing, and the more American capital was being invested the more successful they were in this. The first remedy would be for English capital to prevent the Americans from obtaining any foothold. As to the Crofter immi- gration, he thought thrt the scheme was found to be a. success. Last year they were hampered by the delay in obtaining money allotted for that purpose, but this year everything was going smoothly. They were getting a better class of people who had some money, and those who had gone out before were so well satisfied that the letters which they had sent home had al- : most done away with the necessity of an agent; and where last year the people had to belconvinced that it would be to their advantage to move, now family after fa- mily not only expressed their willingness, but were anxious to go. “I am conscious of no grievance, given or received.” 1did not Stop to puzzle over his meaning. Pleased -With the North-West. Everyf/zzkzg 2'72 fimfiom‘z’on for My mar/ 30 (1’an What the Proper Application of Printers” ink has Produced â€"â€"A model piece of Furniture that Capture} 1-‘wcign Medals. That the success of every business man depends upon his .,i.,'/ 5.1-, 1., advertise «nun! b. gainsaiah Indeed the eflicacy of printers’ in]: lies in its prop” ., 1.,‘.,l,’.-..r;.m, T he man who knows how to advertise the goods he really keeps, and not tin, ._,.,.../,- ,3. noes not 156(4). lg,- [6,1,3 man who will thrive best. flfany merchants nowadays jml’ieiuuslgi syn-"ad their adreflise- ment allover a popular newsymper; but. when the buyers iiw’r flu ir )H/ClCCcS theyfind that their best goods exist only on paper. This class of men. know- lum- n. pa 3; for an “ad.” but they do not know how to adiertise. It is a rare thing to find u Imu...â€" that comes up lo its advertisemmw in these times, and rarer still are those that the min-nix. ment does not «on»: up to. During my travels in search of news I have found 07'" vgl‘ r,',. rarer spams/us. up»! the way I happened to find it was through the following nniqu» ...J.-..,-r.'_.-. :.zent:â€" 1 “Carrie, dear,” MeGarvey’s expecting to find, as I h found elsewhere, tIn II- .-I III” II -.'< goods to LII-“IUUIZ paper; but I was mistaken. I found at the adIHL’M’ISCMC’NI III'I’ IIIII IIIIIze up to II III I e and that it takes six spacionsflats to hold the very best ofhis IIIIIIII,’ II hI'I- h m I not IIII IIIII IIIII in the advertisement. For example, thew ’LS no mention- ImadII III III M.» I; offIII-IIII‘ IIII not captured foreign medals at the tarious exhibitions. There I..- II I.I- IIIIIIII III de II III IIIII‘ that Owen McGarvey (£- Son can furnish a house from bottom II‘I .-.. .,._ IIIII‘ ”we as IIII IIII IIIIIIIz made of the fact that the goods are substantially the stock from :IIIIIIII II'2II samples II n III/II: that brovg ht the firm several bronze and silzer medals, togethIII II'N'II I. III stoma fIn I W} ~ztc workmanship. The prizes were awarded by the Paris, Below II .~.III I'I dean I 'IIIIIIII'ZII LI:- habitions. Mr. McGamey, who by the way is a most aflaII I IIII I. an, tcoI IIII IIIIIIIIgh every one of his six flats, where I had the pleasure of inspeItIII; I' ‘III riIII-f IIIIIII'IIM’ I have ever seen, and that’s saying a good deal when the fact .I- II. I. II ed that 1 In». ~IIII someoftne very best New York afiords. The pieces Offu’I'NIII’I" IIIII I'IIolctIIe1rII';I.<,III'uf- Qf which is given above, consists of a drawing room chair and I: I .-III‘I-- table. We will sell for the next 30 DAYS our well kmwn and selected stock at prices that will astonish rt\'(§ry one. Come along and you will get a Bargain. NDERSON, MUQENT8: 00. sid her father, and he said it with a good deal of sat-isjacn'w, .. H‘flliam Ira-Aw} W w your hand last night, and I cmasented.” “W'ell, Pa, thar'.- r,’.. ‘n‘mr bill of mm 3m: hazm’t oly‘ected to.” Carrie had widently not been purchasing im- from OWEN McGARVE Y (i' SON, A703. 1849, 1851 d} 18.1: None Dame Straw". or there would have been no oly'ection to the bills sent. Owen Alm‘m-r-ye A" Son carry (I Must complete stock of parlor, dining-room, library and fancy flTl'1"‘l-‘-'..N-'; us the most beautiful odd-piece suites, in plushes of all the newest shades, with ladies. $3le «nets, Slalllcllt tables, gilt chairs, ottomans and piano Stools, with the newest ana‘ lam-s! u.~'.~‘0rtnu"nt q rattan rockers, easy chairs, reclining chairs, swing cots, cribs, and a fu/l Hm of the rery much ad» :mired bent fumiture from Vienna, Austria, and their prises ur- av]. m-lfllédged the (hen;- estâ€"quality consideredâ€"in the city; and to provide for Carl-{v ..,..I ll'illie’sfufihcr and future wants, we have now daily arriving, the reryfinest stod- ur OWEN McGARVEY Son, The real _merit and beauty of these articles is beyond IIIII IIIIII I If dIsIr'jz do I. II! orikr that the rea beauty of the elegant furniture may be seen I.. IIIITIIIIIIIIge -z’tII JJI (I'I ‘i‘I-y has a portion of his second flat divided into anartments. T IIII. III IIII IisIIeIl u-‘rz I' - III If his best furniture in such a way as to resemble a palatial IIII-I l/IIIII. A paIIIII I I my" room, bed-room and men the hall-way are so luxuriously aIIIIIIIIIII II.- to sungJ It 2th blessings of a home made beautiful by the exquisite touch of the) i, ,I- II III at IzousI U. (7;. WI 56 apartments are models of perfection and any housekeeper icIIII II I.- .I II: of flu III In [I In! green with envy. Our $3 5 Bed-room set for The table is made'of ebony, 'uitll sidesvof free ornammful .w'rnll 1L carving. 2/1 similarly treated, to which brass claws are attached, and the c/uu'r is 411‘ that kind 1.74:!!- wire Wed, ypholsteredpefy richly i7} crimson Aaml old gold_br.~-ur,-Ilr ever on view in this city, varying in price from '7’, 8.50, 10, I I 30, 35, .40, 45, 50, 60, 3 and up to 85 dollars, the highest 1" l .. finish, yet made m the United States, will be found at Owen \I' -I argest furniture store in the czty. After making a tour of the various departments on the "Wu-flaw we made a (lufi't'nt in the handsome elevator to the first floor, where the pleasant rm-ullrvrv'un (3f (111'!de «7 «lt’f’s came up before me like a dream, when I beheld the perfect game- or" lupin, «*arriaqys disfiapad to public View. . ' . I wished a wishâ€"but then ’ttce're vain. To wish one’s self a child again. I must confess that never since I was an “infant terrible" w..- I' so cmnplctcly ((U‘Tifd away with a baby carriage. I will not attempt to describe any um in particular, but mll ventzm to say that any one of them would take a pfize at a1; «2-1. {Mr/rm if held to-murmc and this is not saying a great deal. When I read this advertismnent my canosity was natiérm’lyr «mug-d, and I 21m? to 1““ EU R Nâ€"I T u RT. BABY CARRIAGES AND PERAM BU LATORS CASH SALE. Wfiat a Corresfiona’ent says of 7711‘ Name of Our $30 one for $23. Come and see our great Bargains in Household Furniture 1849» 1851, and 1853 Notre Dame Street, Montreal. OWEN MGGARVEY 8: SUN, Our $20 one for Kent St, Lindsay. J. A. ARNEA UX 4. I: 18, 90,7 g2.2.§ 26. forms (he finest stylc< and m M: «f: Son 5 oldest and Ayhysician inhe did 11 the refuse Luther ELIE Abe St. G “Who : g @1913? mg of sol-milk todecav twelfth 8881115 e suflicie of the ofthe