The following text may have been generated by Optical Character Recognition, with varying degrees of accuracy. Reader beware!

eeds.n ”n {no wucn fun-ad? p...- punt-n It mu ‘3erth math 'u hm! 1h). m I ha ex: V. A. remand. h. "press "can: It“ madnnyoun. f - Mien] ' Ann-11¢} loadâ€" lovmnt that I: warm: u 3". [-od nun-rank». 3-. b 7°P_you grow, Ire ls largely nth tour mend mung rm {mum {ms wad. no you n M Quinn-nun. B b I 1.9bukmdboulmmruod lope» Into. mm wind at ‘ 130M plated. handsomely - ‘ M. I! look- hlo . and ~14 may. in and with a a. value. which itOCk in produc- ' fopl'oduce and micaâ€"Like ‘0 grow a crop using the best 7 Bo Wuhod. r near Carlsbad. II x a process for a. leather for 310'. without losing 1. ’ the same film. to the action of h... is submitted b I to the chrome. Watch Co. Tm, MM? _ sons (10.. to, Ont. .NTS, rue noon BUYING risk by SWINGS 3534‘: Ask y o u r neg-cu denier 0. writ. ‘ no fat cu raga Dr. Talmage Calls the Roll of Many Stirring Memories. Washington. May 7.â€"-This sermon of Dr. Talmage calls the roll of many stirring menmrics and interprets the meaning of life‘s vicissitudes. The text is Psalms xxxix. 3, “While I was musing the fire bumml. " Drawing Helpful Lessons From Past Experiences and Vlcissi- ‘\ tudes of Life--Advantages of the Early Home Teachings and Surroundings. Here is David, the pmlmist, with the forefinger pf his right hand against his temple and the door shut against the world, 911211va in conmmpiation. And it would be Well for us to take the same posture often while we sit down in sweet lol_innde to gonqemplatu. LIFE IN RETROSPECT In a mall island off the coast of Nova Scotin I once passed a. Sabbath in delight- ful solitude. for I had resolved that I would have one day of entire quiet before I entered upon autumnal work. I thought to have spent the day in laying out plans for Christian work, but instead of that It became a. day of tender reminiscence. I reviewed my pzmtomte; I shook hands with an old departed friend, whom I Ihall greet again when the curtains of life are lifted. The days of my boyhood came back, and I was 10 years of ag . and I was 8, and I was 5. There was but one house on the island, and yet from Sabbath daybreak, when the bird chant woke me, until the evening melted into the Bay of Fundy, from shore to shore there were ten thousand memories, and the groves were a-hum with voices that had long ago ceased. Youth is apt too much to spend all its time in looking forward. Old age is apt too much to spend all its time in looking ‘ backward. PeOplo in midlife and on the apex look both ways. It would be well for us. I think. however. to spend more time in reminiscence. By the constitution of our nature we spend most of the time looking forward. And the vast majority of people live not so much in the present as in the future. I find that you mean to make a. reputation. you mean to establish yourself, and the advantages that you expect to achieve absorb a geat deal of your time. But I see no harm in this, if it does not make you discontented with the present or disqualify you for existing duties. It is a useful thing sometimes to look back and to see the dangers We have escaped and to see the sorrows we have lufl‘ered and the trials and wanderings of our earthly pilgrimage and to sum up our enjoyments. I main, so far as God may help me, to stir up your memory of the past, so that in the review you may be encouraged and humbled and urged to Dragon is a chapel in Florence with e fresco by Guido. It was covered up with two inches of stucm until our American end European artists went there, and utter long toil removed the covering and retraced the fresco. And I am aware that the memory of the past, with many of 1 you, is all covered up with obliterations, l and I now propose. so far as the Lord ‘ may help me, to take away the covering, that the old picium may shine out again. I want to bind in one sheaf all your past advantages. and I want to bind in anâ€" other sheaf all your past ndversitics. It is a precious harvest, and I must be can- tious how I swing the scythe. Our harly Surroundings. Among the greatest advantages of your past life Were an curly home and its sur- roundings. The bad men of the day, for the most part, dip their heated passions out of the boiling spring of an unhappy home. We are not surprised to find that Byron‘s heart was a concentration of sin when we hear his mother was abandoned nnd that she made sport of his infirmity and often called him "the lame brat.” He who has vicious parents has to fight every inch of his way if he would mainâ€" tain his integrity and at last reach the home of the good in heaven. Perhaps your early home was in a city. It may have been when Pennsylvania avenue, Washington, was residential, as now it is commercial, and Canal street, New York, was far up town. That old house in the city may have been demolished or changed into stores, and it seemed like sacrilege to you, for there was more meaning in that small house than there is in a gran- ite mansion or a tnrreted cathedral. Looking back, you see it as though it were yesterdayâ€"the sit-ting room, where the loved one sat by the plain lamp light, the mother at the evening stand. the brothers and sisters, perhaps long ago gathered into the skies, then plotting quchief on the floor or under the table, your father with firm voice commanding a silence that lasted halt a minute. Oh. those were good days! It you had your foot hurt, your mother always had a soothing salve to heal it. If you Were wronged in the street, your father was always ready to protect you. The year was one round_of frolic and mirth. Your ,J‘I _I_ __._ greatest trouble was an April shower, more sunshine than shower. The heart hnd not been ransacked by trouble, nor had sickness broken it. and no lamb had 1 warmer sheept'old than the home in which your childhood nestled. Perhaps you were brought up in the country. You stand now to-day in mem- ory under the old tree. You clubbed it tor fruit that was not quite ripe, because you couldn’t wait any longer. You hear‘ the brook rumbling along our the peb- bles. You step again into the furrow where your father in his shirt sleeves shouted to the lazy oxen. You frighten the swallows from the rafters of the barn and take jnst one egg and silence your conscience by saying they will not min it: You take a drink again out of the very bucket that the old well fetched up. You go for the cows at night and find them pushing their heads through the bars. Ofttimes in the dusty and busy streets you wish you ware home again on that cool grass orin the mgoarpetedhall of the farmhouse, through which there came the breath of new mown hay or the blossom at buckWheat. Tn a: burned from the the doom-sill and wipe the sweat from his VOL. VI. Ni). 20. $1 per annum. brow may have gone to his evem'lasting rest. The mother who used to sit at the door a little bent over, cap and spectacles on, her face mellowing with the vicissi- tudes of many years. may have put down her gray head on the pillow in the valley, but forget that home you never will. Have you thanked God for it? Have you rehearsed all these blessed reminiscences? Oh, thank God for a Christian father! Thank God for a Christian mother! Thank God for an early Christian altar at which you were taught to kneel! Thank God for an early Christian home! I bring to mind another passage in the history of your life. The‘ day came when you set up your own household. The days passed along in quiet blessedness. You twain sat at the table morning and night and talked over your plans for the future. The most insignificant. afl'air in your life became the subject of mutual consulta- tion and advisement. You were so happy you felt you never could be any happier. One day a dark cloud hovered over your dwelling. and it got darker and darker. but out of that cloud the shining messen- ger of God descended to incarnate an immortal spirit. Two little feet started on an eternal journey, and you were to lead them. a gem to flash in heaven’s coronet, and you to polish it. Eternal ages of light and darkness watching the starting out of a newly-created creature. You rejoiced and you trembled at the responsibility that in your possession an immortal treasure was placed. You prayed and rejoiced and wept and won- dered. You were earnest in supplication that you might lead it through life into the kingdom of God. There was a tremor in your earnestness. There was a double interest about that home. There was an additional interest why you should stay there and be faithful. and when in a few months your house was filled with the music of. the child‘s laughter you were struck through With the fact that you had a stupendous mission. Have you kept that vow? Have you neglected any of these duties? Is your. home as much to you as it used to be?; Have those anticipations been gratified!H God help you in your solemn remin-E lscence, and let his mercy fell upon your: soul. if your kindness has been 1111; requited. God have mercy on the parent} on the wrinkles of whose face is written- the story of a child's sin. God have mercyf on the mother who, in addition to her: other pangs. has the pang of a child’s' iniquity. Oh. there are many. many sadl sounds in this sad World, but the saddest: sound that is ever heard is the breaking} of a mutiwr's heart! \ I find another point in your life his-y tory. You :‘mmd one day you were in the wrong: road; you could not sleep at night: thui‘i: was just one word that seemed to sob through your banking house or through your ofiice oryour shop or your bedroom, and that word was “eternity.” You said: “I’m not ready for it. Oh. God have mercy!” The Lord heard. Peace came to your heart. In the breath of the hill and in the waterfall’s dash you hwrd the voice of God’s love; the clouds and the trees hailed you with gladness; you came into the house of God. You remember how your hand trembled as you took up the cup of the communion. You remember the old min- ister who consecrated it. and you remem- ber the church officials who carried it through the aisle: you remember the old people who at the close of the service took your hand in theirs in congratulat- ing sympathy, as much as to say, “Wel- come home, you lost prodigal," and, though those hands be all withered away, that communion Sabbath is resurrected to-duy. It is resurrected with all its pray- ers and songs and tears and moms and transflguration. Have you kept those vows? Have you been a backslider? God help you. This day kneel at the foot of mercy and start again for heaven. Start now as you started then. I rouse your soul by that reminiscence. But I must not spend any more of my time in going over the advantages of your life. I just put them in one great sheaf, and I call them up in your mem- ory with one loud harvest song. such as the reaper-s sing. Praise the Lord, ye blood bought immortals on earth! Praise the Lord, ye crowned spirits of heaven! But some of you have not always had I a smooth life. Some of you are now in I the shadow. Others had their troubles 1 years ago. You are a more wreck of what you once were. I must gather up the I sorrows of your past life. But how shall ' I do it? You say that is impossible, as you have had so many troubles and ad- I versities. Then I will iust take twoâ€"the first trouble and the last trouble. I when you are walking along the street I and there has been music in the distance a you unconsciously find yourselves keep-I ing step to the music. so, when you I started life. your very life was a musical ; time beat. The air was full of joy and I hilarity. With the bright clear oar you I made the boat skip. You went on, and I life grew brighter, until after awhile sud- I denly a voice from heaven said, “Halt!" and quick as the sunshine you halted, you grew pale, you confronted your first sorrow. You had no idea that the flush on your child‘s cheek was an unhealthy flash. You said it cannot be anything serious. Death in slippered feet walked round about the cradle. You did not hear the tread. But after awhile the truth flashed on you. You Walked the floor. Oh, it you could, with your strong, stout hand, have wrenched that child from the destroyer! You went to your room, and you said: "God, save my child! God, save my child!” . The world seemed going out in dark- ness. You said, “I can't bear it; I can’t ‘bear it." You felt as it you could not put the long lashes over the bright eyes, I never to see them again sparkle. It you could have taken that little one in your arms and with it leaped the grave. how gladly you would have done it! I! you . could let your property go. your houses I go, your land and your storehouse go, I how gladly you would have allowed them to depart if you could only have kept that one treasure! But one day there came I: aohill blastthat swept through thogodroom. In tho Shadows. and instantly all the lights went out, and there Wm darknessâ€"thick, murky, impenetrable, shuddering darkness. But God did not leova you there. Mercy spoke. As you took up the bitter cup to put it to your lips God said, “Let it pass," and forthwith, as by the hand of angels, on- other cup was put into your hands. It was the cup of God‘s consolation. And as you have sometimes lifted the head of a wounded soldier and poured wine into his lips. so God puts his left arm under your head and with his right hand he pours into your lips the wine of his com- fort and his consolation, and you looked at the empty cradle and looked at your broken heart. and you looked at the Lord’s chustisement. and you said, “Even 50. Father, for so it'seeméth good in thy sight”? .. .. .. w ,an; v_°7,, Ah, it was vour first trouble. How did you get over it? God comforted you. You have been a better man ever since. You have been a better woman ever since. In the jar of the closing gate of the sepul- cher you heard the clunging of the open- ing gate of heaven, and you felt an irre- sistible drawing heavcnwnrd. You have been spiritually better ever since that night when the little one for the last. time put its arms around your neck and‘ said: “Good night. papa: good night, ‘ mamma. Meet me in heaven.” But I must come to your latest sor-‘ row. What was it? Perhaps it was sick- ness. The child’s tread on the stair or the tick of the watch on the stand disturbed you. Through the long weary days you counted the figures in the carpet or the flowers in the wall paper. Oh, the weari- ness of exhaustion! Oh. the burning pangs! Would God it were morning, would God it were night, was your fre- quent cry. But you are better, or perhaps even well. Have you thanked God that to-day you can come out in the fresh air; that you are in your place to hear God's name and to sing God’s praise and to implore God’s help and to ask God’s forgiveness? Bless the Lord who healeth all our diseases and redeemeth our live: from destruction. Perhaps your last sorrow was a flnan-‘ oial embarrassment. I congratulate some of you on your lucrative profession or occupation, on ornate apparel, on a com- modious residenceâ€"everything you put your hands on seems to turn to gold. But? there are others of you who are like the‘ Ihip on which Pau sailed where two seas met, and you are broken by the violence} of the waves. By an unadvised indorse-l ment, or by a conjunction of unforeseen events, or by fire or storm, or a. senseless panicI you have been flung headlong, and where you once dispensed great char- ities now you have hard work to win your daily bread. Have you forgotten to thank God for your days of prosperity and that through your trials some of you have made investments which will con- tinue after the lust bank of this world has exploded and the silver and gold are molten in the fires of a. burning world! Have you. amid all your losses and dis- couragements, forgot that there was bread on your table this morning and that there shall be a shelter for your head from the storm, and there is air for your lungs and blood for your heart and light for your eye and a glad and glorious and triumphant religion for your soul? Perhaps-your last; trouble was a bor- eavemenn. That heart which in childhoofi wns your refuge. the parental heart, and which has been a source of the quickest sympathy ever since. has suddenly be- come silent forever. And now somenimen, whenever in sudden annoyance and with- out deliberation you say, “I Will go and tell mother." the thought flashes on you, “I have no mother." Or the father, with voice less tender, but; with heart as lov- ing. watchful of all your ways. exultant over your success without saying much. although the old people do talk it over by themselves, his trembling hand on that stafl which you now keep as a fam- ily relic. his memory embnlmed in grate-t ful heartsâ€"is taken away forever. Or there was your companion in life. shaierl of your joys and sorrows. taken. leaving | the heart an old ruin, where the ill! winds blow over a wide wilderness of desolation, the sands of the desert driving across the place which once bloomed like the garden of God. And Abraham mourns for Sarah at the cave of Machâ€" pelah. As you were moving along your‘ path in life. suddenly. right before you. ‘ was an open grave. People looked down. ‘ and they saw it was only a few feet wide. but to you it was a cavern. down which went all your hopes and. all your expecta- tions. But cheer up, in the name of the Lord Jesus Christ. the Comforter. He is not going to forsake you. Did the Lord take that child out of your arms? Why, he is going to shelter it better than you could. He is going to array it in a white robe and palm branch and have it all ready to greet you at your coming home. Blessed the broken heart that Jesus heals! Blessed the importunate cry that Jesus compassionates! Blessed the weep- ing eye from which the soft hand of Jesus wipes away the tear! The Closing of Life. Some years ago I Was sailing down the St. John River, which is the Rhine and the Hudson commingled, and while I was on the deck of the steamer a gentle~ man pointed out to me the places of in- terest, and he said. “All this is interval ‘ There is one more point of absorbing : reminiscence, and that is the last hour of 1 life, when we have to look over all our ‘ past existence. What a moment that will ‘ be! I place Napoleon‘s dyimz reminiscence on St. Helena beside Mrs. Judson‘s dying I reminiscence in the harbor of St. Helena, 1 the same island, 20 years after. Nanoleon’s . ying reminiscence was one of delirium ‘ â€"“Tete d’armee”â€"“Head of the army.” ‘ Mrs. Judson‘s dying reminiscence, as she i came home from her missionary toil and , her life of self sacrifice for God, dving in E the cabin of the ship in the harbor of St. [ Helena. was, “I always did love the Lord Jesus Christ.” And then, too historian says, she fell into a sound sleep for an ‘ hour and woke amid the songs of angels. | I place the dying reminiscence of Augus- . tus Caesar against the dying reminiscence ot theapostle Paul. The dying remin- WJ‘USU, uuu uU lulu. ALL Unto La Anny. I.“ land, and it is the richest land in all th provinces of New Brunswick and Nova Scotia.” “What.” said I. “do you mean by ‘interml land?’ ” “Well." he said, “this lami is submerged for a part of the year. Spring freshets come down, and all tho-:0 phiini are over-flowed with water. and the water leaves rich deposit, and when the Waters are gone the harvest springs up. and there is a richer harvest than I know of elsewhere.” And I in- smutiy thought, “It is not the heights of the church. and it is not the heights of this world that are the scene of the great- est prosperity, but the soul over which the floods of sorrow have goneâ€"the soul over which the freshets of tribulation have torn their wayâ€"that yields the greatest fruits of righteousness and the largest harvest for time and the richest harvest for eternity.” Bless God that your soul is interval land! “UH. \VAD SOME POWER OM EMEE THE GI~FTIE GIE US, TAE SEE OORSELS AS ITHERS SEE US.” ONT., THURSDAY, MAY 11, 1899. isoenoe of Augustus Cesar was. address- ing his attendants. “Have I played my part well on the stage of life?” and they answered in the ailinnative, and he said, “Why, then, don’t you applaud me?" The dying reminiscence of Paul the apostle was, “I have fouuht a good fight. I have finished my course, I have kept the faith; henceforth there is laid up for me a crown of righteousness, which the Lord, the righteous Judge. will give me in that day, and not to me only, but to all them that love his appearing." Augustus Caesar died amid .panp and great surroundings. Paul uttered his dy- ing reminiscence looking up through the Wall 01' a dungeon. God grant that our dying pillow may be the closing of a. use- ful life and the opening of a glorious eternity. Wheat Cables Arc steadyâ€"Tho Visibl. Supply of Wheatâ€"Local Markets Very Quietâ€"Prices. Liverpool, May 9.â€"Whent futures closed the same as Saturday. Visible and Afloat. The visible supply of wheat in the United States and Cnnada, together with amount afloat to Europe. is 67,786.000 bushels. an increase of 1,322,000 bushels for the week. A year ago the total was 62,128,000 bushels, or 5,658,000 bushels less than at the present time. Lending Wheat Marl-(cu. Following were the closing price; up important cent-res yesterday: Cash. May. Julv. Supt}. Chicago... .8 . . S 70% S 71*}; :5 Tu; New York... .: 78% 76,14 75% Chicago... .3 . . New York. . _ Milwaukee . . 59. Louis... Toledo ...... Detroit, _____ Duluth, No. 1 Nomhern. . . Duluth, No. 1 hard. ...... Minneapolis, Toronto. red. Toronto. No. 1 hard (In-W) . : 78% 73 . . 75 76 74» 74 7;} 74;; 72 72% 75 . . . . 69% 80 . . '80 8 70% S 71% $ 7 763/5 75 71% 73% 74 72% Toronto St. Lawrence Market. GRAIN. Wham. white, bu ....... Wheat, red. bu ......... Wheat. Fife, spring, bu. Whom, goose, bu ....... Barley, bu ............. Peas. bu ............ OMS. bu ............... Rye. bu ............... Buckwheat. bu ......... Red clover. bu ........ Whine clover. seed. bu Alsike, choice to fancy Alsike. good. No. 2.. .. Alsike. good. No. 8. _ . . Timothy, bu .......... Red clover. bu ......... 83 00 White clover. seed. bu . 5 00 Alsike, choice to fancy. 3 80 Alsike. good. No. 2 ..... 3 50 Alsike, good. No. 8 ..... 3 0° Timothy, bu ........... 1 90 Beans, white, bu. ...... 80 HAY AND STRAW. Hay, timothy, per mn.$11 00 Hay, clover, per son... , 8 00 Straw. shear, per ton... 7 00 Straw, loose, per ton. ‘ . 4 00 DAIRY PRODUCTS. Butter. 11). rolls. . . . Buster, large 10115,. Eggs, new iaid. . . .. Apples, per brl ........ $2 50 to $4 00 Potatoes, per bag. .. 80 90 Cheese Markets. Utlca. N.Y.. May 9.â€"The sales of cheese at. the Utica Board of '1‘ mule yester- duv were as follows: Large whim-10 boxes at 90; large colored, 87 3 at; 9c and 60 as 91gc;sma.11 colored. 254 as 8,60, :25 an 89- gc and 284 at 83V 0; small white, 186 at 8%0 and 135 at 90. There were 893 boxes sold on commission. Enlt Buffalo Cattle Market. Cumlc, Choice 10 uxnm. .55 :35 no $5 35 Cattle, good to choice. , 4 00 5 15 Calves ................. 8 50 6 00 Sheep, choice to extra. . 5 15 5 2.‘ Sheep, good to choice. . . 4 75 5 15 Lambs. choice to extra... 6 15 6 25 Lambs, good to choice , 6 00 6 15 Lambs. common to fair. 5 25 6 00 Chickens, per pair. Turkeys, per lb. . . Sheep, choice to extra. . Sheep, good to choice. . , Lambs. choice to extra... Lambs, good to choice , Lam b5. common to fair. Hogsnnodlum and heavy Hogs, Yorkers ..... Pigs ................... Liverpool Market-.' Liverpool. May 9.â€"â€"Priccs clo sod yester- day as follows: Wheat futures dull. R. W., 59 9%(1 May. as 7%(1 July, as 7§§d September. Maize quiet; new 3:1 594d. old :55 (mid. Futures dull: 35 531d May and July, 38 6%d September. Flour, 173 9d. Thu scmemry of the Dominion Breed- ers' Associacion claims injury has been done no the trade by some breeders sell- ing grade cattle for thoroughbreds. United States Ambassador Choate was the central figure at; the annual meeting in London on Monday of the British 85 Foreign Sailors’ Society at the Mansion House. Major John Cotton, youngest brother of Co]. Cotton of Ottawa. is dead. He was stationed at Battleford, N.W.'.l‘., and was superintendenn of the Northwost Mounted Police. Mr. Gum-Ire S. Tickcll, who was Mayor of Bellcville in 1890, died on Monday morning, after a. month’s illness. De ceased was born in Bristol England. ’0 years ago. and came to Belleville in 1857. A case of smallpox has appeared at Hawkeshury village, Prescott County. The victim is Joseph Beaudry, from Chute a Blondeau. who was a. mill hand at Haw- kesbury two weeks before being taken sick. Presbyterian Synod. Toronto, May 9.â€"â€"The Presbyterian Synod of Toronto and Kingston opened in Knox Church last evening. The retir- ing moderator, Rev. J. T. Gmcey of Gananoque, preached the annual sermon prior to the election of Rev. Alex. Gilmy of Toronto as moderator for the next 12 months. . nnl\ .nuvu In“... '1 he Synod meets this morning at 9. 30. There will be three sederunts. and the same number to- morrow. Bufialo. May 9.â€"â€"The biennial session of the International Association of Machinists was brought to a. close yester- day. Toronto was chosen as the place for holding the next session in 1901. In the election of officers Arthur Holmes of To- ronto was elected a member of the ad- W ‘W MARKET REPORTS. NE‘VS IN BRIEF SPACE. 5, per pair ...... $0 75 to 30 90 ‘y per lb ........ 12 15 FRUITS AND VEGETABLES. Toronto for . \oxt Sen-Ion. POULTRY. SEEDS. .430 $0 350 71% 71% 67 65% 43 62% 50 14 13 ll 70% 63% t o 312 “$0 tn“- UIO 500 14 13 BETWEEN TWO LOVES Shc devoted herself to that taskâ€"it was not a very difficult one. It was easy to see from his absorbed mam. ner, from his fits of deep thought and abstraction, that his mind was else- where; and onceâ€"Daisy never forgot that hour; it was the early dawn of the morning. and who was frightenedâ€"there was an unusual noise in the house, and she fuxwiml some one was breaking into it. }lzl:~‘-til_\' throwing on a dressing-gown, she wont to hvr husband's room to arouse him. Even in the midst of her fear she could not help watching him as he sleptâ€"the handsome, haggard face; with its deep lines of pain. ,She' touched him lightly. speaking in a whisper. Suddenly his face lighted up. “My love! my lave!" he cried. “Oh. how I have missed you!" Then his dnzed. half~waking eyes fell on the face or Daisy. His voice chamg- od to a tone of Cold, indifierent sum- prise. .. . .. vv ‘7 ‘._, Sho was a warm-hearted, impetuous \wmmn. this sweet Daisy, and she felt wry much inclim-d :o throw down the taper sho lwld in her hands and stamp hvr ITtfle {mt on the ground. in :2 vvw'p mm SWf'f‘TOSI musncâ€"m u. voicv fl. r oven 0’1) their wedding-day he had nm: r used to her?" “My love! my love! Oh, how I have missed you!" He had not missed her: she was there with him. 01’ whom was he spmking? She did not even know that his voice could take such loving, tonwlt-r tones: and. as all mvse thoughts mused through her mind, she stood still. look- ing fixedly at him, furgetting everything else in this one Wonder. “What did he mean? Who was his luvvmhie luvoZ-on whom he had called in n \'r'~p like mvr-r-‘tost musicâ€"in a voicv fl. r oven on their wedding-day he ttvr ? She had forgotten the funded noise, the house-breakers. and all else; his Words seemed to muse her, “\\'hy am? you looking at me so. Daisy?” he asked. “\Wmt is the mint- “\Vhat do. I want?" she repeated, with the vacam air of one who had forgotten hor mossnze. “I came to tell you tlmtâ€"thxt I heard a strange noise, and I fear there are thieves in the house.” “You have not hurried on your mis- sion. Daisy," he said. with a good‘tem- pered 11mph; “they have had time to get in while you have been looking at me.” “You amazed me," she said, in her earnest. straightforward way. “Do you know what you said before you were quite awake?” She told him. still keeping her un- changing eyes on his face. “Caro." she asked. “who is this love Whom you have mvixsed so terribly?" “I summso I must have been,” he re- plied, with an uneasy laugh. “Thorn. mm. I would rather be film one you love in your dreams than the one you love in your waking houm. It seems to me the dream-love has the best of it." “My dear. Daisy.‘ he said. “is a man nocountnbln for what 'he says in his sleep-401‘ his dreams?" ““‘ure you dreaming?" asked earnest Daisy. \Vhen S-ir Clinton examined into the cause uf the noise. it was discovered to be nothing mum than the bursting of a bottlo of champagne: but the incident did not paw from Daisy’s mind. He had a luve, or he could not dream of her; that it was not herself, the differ- once in hisvoice when he spoke of his love and alien to Daisy was quite suf- ficiem to show her. even if nothing else did. Then. if he had another love, Why had he married her? She was more puzzled than ever. An- other time Sir Clinton had been unwell] for some days: he had a kind of 10W {eve-r, caught throng-l1 the heat and the one-waning weather. He refused to call in a doctor. declaring that he could cure himself. The fever made him low and desponding. at times a little disposed to ramble in his speech. There was noth- ing to cause alarm. or even to confine him to this room. and Daisy put aside all her doubts and her fears to devote her- self to him. She read to him one morn- ing from the book of Irish ballads ‘he liked so much: she was called away, and left it in his hands. She was ab- sent some little time. \Vhen she re- turned, he had lain his face on the bmk and had fallen into a deep sleep. She raised his head. and fo_1md the page wet with tears. Then she looked at wth he had been reading, It was the same ballad that had touched him so much “I am weary. I am weary, ,l Waiting for the May.” It was evident to her that he had read it welpt over it. and fallen asleep with the tears still wet on his face. ”What could it mean? She felt quite sure that in some way or other. the words were an allegory. It was not for the merry month of May that her husband sighed. Then it' flushed suddenly across her that, just as she was called by the name of a flower, “Daisy,” other people were called by name “May.” The thou'ght flashed on her mind with a jealous pang, that showed her how dearly she loved this husband who did not love her. She said the word over and over again, “May.” Why, it 'had the sweetest sound! “Ah, me! If he loved a May, why has he married me?" she thought. When he was awake and looking a little befite'r, she, sitting by his side, raised her eyes suddenly to his. "Is that you, Daisy? You startled “Caro,“ she said. “is the name of May a common one in England?" He was so completely taken by sur- mise, that he let the book he hpld in his hand fall to the ground. “I do not knowâ€"I am no judge of names," he said, as he turned away, npd then, with slow steps, quitted the “I am not jealous," said Daisy. “but that is confirmation strong enough for anything. He cannot even endure the sound of the name. From that hour her unhappiness deepâ€" ened-11150 her determination t6 lmmv‘ “No,” he replied: “that I certainly do 9-! By BERTHA M. CLAY. the truth. Was there some one in that tarot? Eng-land whom he lovedâ€"some one who had taken hiaheamt from her? “It is a great shame” said simple Daisy. “I am his wife and he ought to love me better than any one else on earth. I will find her out. It is worse than being a thief to take a man’s heart and his love from his own wife. I will find her out, and when I know her, I shall say: “"l‘hfis is my husband; he has mur- ried me; he has promised to love me and to care for meâ€"why do you seek to take him from me?” 7 “If she has any good in her," thought the gin] sadly, “that will make her ashamed of herself. I shall say to her: “ ‘Y on “ould not steal my money, my wedding-ring; why steal from me that which I value a thousand times more than l-ife itself? I shall kntw what to say to her, it I ever find her.” Another time Daisy went to her hus- band’s study to find some paper he had misflaid, and on his desk, hardly dried, lay a copy of verses. S‘he read them- such passionate, despairing verses, that they brought tears to her tender eyes; and she was so deepiy engrossed in reading them that she forgot the object she was in search of. A shadow fanning over the page roused ‘her and she looked up. her eyes filled‘with tears. "Caro," she said, “did youâ€"have you writ-ten these verses?" He laughed awkwardly. “I shall begin to fancy myself a poet, Daisy, it I find you crying over my rhymes,” he said. “But you dzid write themâ€"they are your own '2" “Yes: such as they are, they are my own." 'he replied. “CM-o,” she said, very gravely, “I wish not that you would write sueh vorcos to me but that I knew to whom they were written." “This is written with .reasotn: it is written to some one whom you love very much, and from whom you Va-re parted.” "As 1hmuzl1 a poet ever wrote reason,” he said, laughingly. “It is a waste of time to contradict Indies,” he-said. “And in your case it would also be a waste of truth.” she retorted. “They are beautiful versesâ€"sad, passionate. sweet verses. I shall never forget them but I wish that I had never seen them, Caro.” She walked away as she spoke, and Sir Clinton looked after her. He was positively growing interested in her, this sweet, petulant, impulsive Daisy, who said what she thought, and whose thoughts were strange-1y true. Heu- chamcter began to interest him. He had only thought of her as a simple, loving girl, tender and pure of heart. earnest of purpose; but she was growing positively piquant. She loved him. and she was jealous of him; yet knowing noflha’ng of his history. it was only of a shadow that she was jealous. “If I had know her firstâ€"if I had never seen May." he thought to himself, “I should have loved Daisy.” And from that time, although he had no idea of lovinc her. from that hour Sir Clinton Adair felt a great respect for his wife. Daisy had quite recovered from her illness now: she had never been so well or so beautiful. He heard her singing all day long to the boy, he heard her laugh and talk to him as though he could understand, and he began to perceive that when he entered the room where mother and child were, the sweet song and laughter were hushed. the playful younz mother he- came dignified. He noticed. too. that after a time Daisy ceased to enumerate baby's charms and wonders to him. Once he stole in gently. while she was dressing the little one. “No one writes vorses m us, do they my darling?" she wn: saying: “no one writes sad. sweet. loving words to us." And he stole away :Igiiin when he saw that tears to]! from her eyes on baby’s unconscious face. The fever of unrest was on him. Daisy was well now, the child thrivingâ€" everything at rest. and the old fever had returned to him. There could be no more tranquilityâ€"the old, haunting pas- sionate love. the longing to look on the face of his love, was all back‘ again. ‘ He wandered to and fro like a ghost. There were times when he raised his face drearily to the summer heavens, asking why this curse of a passionate. love had fallen on him?â€"why his life, more than that of other men, should be haunted by this fierce, mad love? He was like a ship without a helm; he seem- ed to \have lost the art of governing; himself; the distinction between night and wrong had, in some measure, fadedl from' his mind; he was growing careless of honor, and loyalty. and good faith; he followed one phantomâ€"it was the weird one of his love. When ladies, forgetting the law of honesty, steal. so- ciety is kind enough to call their sin by the name of kleptomunia: when a man. in ungovernahle rag.r , murders another, insanity comes to the rescue: for all sin excuses are found :1nd.new words chosen. If there could be any excuse for Sir Clinton Adair, it was that his bassion- ate love had driven him mad-he was not himself. He had loved her so deep- ly, so madly, his disapointmcnt had ‘ been so great, 'he had suflered so much, it was no wonder that the delicate bel- lmce of brain and reason wasflisturbed. If, before Heaven or man, there 1mg ady excuse for his sin. it lay in the fact that his love and his somw had dazed him. Strongly as the fit of_ mania re- turns to the unhappy lunatic. strong-b as the exceé of delirium returns toJDhe flever patient. the fever of his loge re turned to him. He mndu some lirt‘c stand against it: he tried to thin-k of the words duty and honor: he tried to think of wife and ehildz but they warm faint vfl’urts. that fell dead-he nmstlge'e her again. ~ He said no more than thg't to him- self. ' He never imagined what he‘ was to any to her, how he was to gr fhgi'. what excuse be wag.to. make f f. This absence. what explanation of hi gan- duct: only to see her. to look face that made his heaven on then die. if it should'be so! “Was it ever given to man to 10" I love her?” he thought: and h: .. .v. n- membe'red the beautiful emu-y of CHAPTER XXXVIII. A COOL FAREWELL. CHAS. W. RICHARDS, Publisher Prop. . axd Rebecaâ€"how he ioved her, how he' worked for her. so flmt the long years seemed but as mm day. He would have worked so for Lady May. He hit Ms lips and clenched his hands as he re- “You are right," he said; “file plaza does not suit me. Daisy: it is too wry-tn. too emanatingâ€"the cold of the Baptist air suites me better. I think I shall go to England, and make’ amusements for your coming.” ' “The air of Seville suits the little one." she said; “he is not very strong, and the doctor said the other day “t would he as well if we kept him in the south of France for a time a: least.” Sir Clinton looked up with an air of relief. “You had better rennin here." he said, “for an'qther year or so; you will not be lonely with your mother and m boy.” Her heart beat with a sudden, flaw pang of jealousy. He wanted to be away from her; he wanted to go back to England without her: he cared nod!- ing for her child and herself. She m- tmlled herself by a great efiort. “You would like to go back to m, land. then," s..e said, “M?"wt me?” “For a time.” he replied, “what time. It Seville suits the boy, than b no need to take him away from it.” “And \uu: ‘ she said: “shall you be able to do without me?" He looked up absenfly, ‘not quit: understanding what she meant. “Sh-all you not miss me, Can, and want me with you?” she asked. “Certainly not ” promptly replied Daisy in a voice of bitter pain. 80¢ pain and bitterness passed unnoticed 1!! “Oh, yes, 01' course," he re: the most careless indifienence; will not matter, you know." him “Mun. “I shall start soon. " hie said. Nova film the ice was bmken. he was ailin- patience to be gone. “And Daisy, 1 will take a courier home with me O bring your mother backi’ ‘ “Iutfiank you,” {she replied. “And, course. you have no idea when you return? ’ “\‘o, not the least: but it ybnrflnofllc is here, you will find the tim'e Pass very pleasantly You must be surc '50 seud_ ”3.; me in England for :inyth y “You will send your letters to the 1 same addressâ€"‘Mr. Ciifton, 'care of Messrs. Coooper. Thavies Inn!" Daisy looked up in his face. a “I thought,” she said, “that even 1319 s, poorest people in Engkmd had homm of ’ 5; their own.” 5 “So they have," he replied, unguard- edly. “The-n where is yours? Why must 1‘!” the m of some one else?” 'fifl “Why, Daisy” he cried. unw" ‘ ' her vehemence, “you are r ‘ curious." “Do you can it (-utioa‘ty w“ asks where her husband's in He looked up immtiently. “I do not know what has you." he said, ond'he ha \ so harshly to be: We. “1‘ k know you, Daisy: you are not like y‘ self; you tease me: you ask qulestitmm you seem dissafi Shelookedupathim withapde, Scared face. “Are you really angry with me, Caro?” she asked. “ v “I do not like to be teased,” he said. “I am not patient, Daisy.“ 5“: “And I have been too patient." it?“ mused. . ' ‘ ' “I will not bear it,” die sud. “fun not a child, and I willmot be' treated 1.1; one. I W1]! knowmomeothnsefi than I have ever done. I will kill: he goes to England and lwva‘ne' A pmject suddenly muggi' her, and afterward nook dew 1k mind. She. his wife, was nnr ed in wanting to know mm was not she said to; fies cun'osity: it was note W tire to knowâ€"it . Interest in him, prompted he. . to England . then when M ' ’ $3 P ““4111 the could leave hér ”boy in would go, after him. ‘.« Tip-e “as only one objeNtion L ‘ plan “here in England would .». find him? He had, apparently. name: but she could hear of him at mass-s. Coopers. She did not know nm‘ch' 0! life: she had seen little of the’mdd. and her plan appeared to heflaxir" rescible, but easy. She wouldgo 7 Imdon; the journey need not (1583! her, it was straightforward: she I?» go to the address; sh. mm; mdlLMessx-s. Cooper. ,1 3% then flie- dnothingtodo 1' N, ‘M-rf, Cl ’.1 I: film was ‘ " Daisy sought refuge in a baht of , JJU L‘JL uuvlulw, M want nothmg,” replied M. film< meant. ne, Caro, and asked. - ,e replied, with ence; “but that V." . . npfly redid er pain. Bod: d unnoticed 1!! he said. Neil‘s: he was all in:- 5 and, Daisy. If? :9 with mail?» v iied. “And, f_ 11:: when you In ‘ ‘ I . l ”M