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l' adulterating’ Fred in is the I} agegrozvtli. I: orders '20:) I way. I. :- RCL: lightl. ‘4‘" E I A 5 l . airâ€"a " t-i I: ‘ilfi’tt‘? stir. :‘3: 39 ‘r"‘2‘3f".l.' 2r. inta- I‘. 'sfcr :r it}: .‘.".'Z!V. Its“ :31 {rep :5 been- ;gr’c ‘n‘: of pure t . ... .. . L sl‘ . : , “or! some ‘5‘..- f4 Eliza. - E52: ‘0! .3ted P513”! lot." “3333 Fran:- 1 4â€"26 p iExperiment with other and 7:. liefericr ‘ lhrands, USE airs . . ..’>.-.-» », , a household sad it is sure to at place in the cupboard. It Termination and - in the highest ; and healing. 'ruises. Burns, ounds, Boils, it also relieves Ihitis, Asthma, , . msy, and other. n key-opening cans. rid the- mz‘dtcxuctly can up in this way: ‘3 Tongue 22'. Veal Leaf . Brlshct Beef - Smoked 3e31, Etc. >le *pala‘abl: 1nd c rslloulti hare '._e:ri I I l l i . l f: !, 3M; was 3 4» Sign , some” . £3? E OME “OH, WAD SOME POWER THE GIFTIE GIE US. TAE SEE OORSELS AS ITEEBS SEE US." gm OMEMEE ONT., THURSDAY, MAY 7. 1903. 93am . WWcmmmwmcfi .. lill‘l‘lil illllllilllll ; or, A nmnr’s SECRET. w CHAPTER XIV.â€"-Cont. "What, d'ye mean '2” he starting, and tre ‘ ”There milling “019’“le h . was something between t em. lie ha'l Won her heart per- haps. Then. distrusting him and knowmg the great distance between their stations. she said to herself “I will go away for . cured. My uncle frowned t‘ .. .iourrhtfullv, and shook his head. a . ".\a\v. IIIlgh‘Lllt'l‘t‘ be more in’t than that : but. \vhat'er it be I’m sure the young master had no hand in t. I know you never liked Hugh : but Master .Iarge heart. and Would never do a dirtv deed. “71y. I ha' knaWed him 11110 served him ever sin’ he were a boV and I’d trtist ’un \t‘i’ my own life"; In pity for his trouble, I forenore to tell him all I knew. Even had I done so. I believe his simple faith in the “master" Would have remain- ed firm. “It's of suminaf else I’m thinking, lad, ho said. after a pause ; "sum- niizt that Were tawld me t’other (lav by John Iludd. Three or four (luvs arter Annie Went away, John Rudd he saw her in I-‘nlmouth. alawng wi’ that Yankee chap. Johnson, the ovi-rsenr.” He noticed and continued. "They Were standing talking toâ€" gether on the quay, and Annie were trying. Maybe there's sommat in It. and maybe nawt ; but sin’ the sight she went. overseer chap has been aWayâ€"i‘olk say. in Putting this and that together. IIlIgh. my lad. what do it all mean?" I was as pnnled as himself; but I hastened to assure him of one thing -â€"the utter impossibility of being any intimate relationship beâ€" tWt-en my cousin and American. lie looked somewhat in- credulous. for in his simple eyes Johnson was a stylish and import- mt person. \‘ef‘y likely to find favor in the eyes of a young woman. . Ile rose \vearily. and held out his hand. "Leaf me to think it. out. lad. My mind be llXt‘Il that sununat's wrong. and I sha'n't sleep till I knaw the truth. the whole Gospel truth. I ha' been praying and praying that things be naivt as 1 ha' feared. for my start of surprise. if any-living man had played the villain wi' my Annie. Lawd help him 3 Lawd keep him from the Y" reach 0' my hands- As I looked into his face. I could not help echoing the prayer. I felt certain. at the same time. that his fears and suspicions had shot great- ly in excess oi the truth. I knew that scandal Was busy with poor Annie’s panic. and that much of the scandal iziust have reached his ears: but I could not. yet bring myself to believe that Annie's flight betokened anything seriously wrong. 0f one thing I felt. nevertheless, certainâ€"- that if wrong had been done, George lledruth was in some way responâ€" Bible. I stood and watched my uncle, as he wandered array in the direction of our home : then I turned my face again towards the sea. and wander- gd on. As I went. the moor grew opener and wilder. strewn with great stones and boulders of the wreck of some past world some huge thither in some pre-historic period of wondrous floodsâ€"When the arid waste on which I trod was the oozy bottom of a troubled sea. Here and there fed Wild cattle, black and horned. like those that haunted the. woods of ancient. Brit- ain. In solitary places the buzzard hovered. . . tarns the heron waded, rismg up as I approached, with sleepy waft, of “12% last. after a. ramble of several miles. I approached the sea margin, My path was now on the Stony edge of low-lying cliffs, at the page of which the Waters thundered forever. wWW cried, I . a time till I am; 01‘ ll” be has left the placo' "' ’un. I has a kind ' London. , there I the pSendo . like fragments I as menhirs translated ' and by the brink of lonelyI Isca itself, and was like a. mermaid singing. I rose quickly, and, cross- ing the rocks. walked in the direc- tion from which the voice came. I Approaching the edge of the crags, II looked down, and saw beneath me. Iin the very shadow of the promon- ‘tory. a. quiet creek. The rocks asunder, leaving a beach, some twenty yards broad, Eand closed by the still waters of IlllC sea. which broke in a thin fringe. Iof white foam on a sunny slope ‘white pebble and golden sand. . I It was a nook just such as the 3fabled merwomcn or sirens might hich chosen when the world was and such fair creations ibrightencd the sunshine. llut what ’am I saying ’3 It was haunted still. land by one far sweeter and more ,hauntcd. winsome than any mere creation of. In poet's fancy ! I Lying like a basking seal on the :loose shingle just under the rocks, Iand looking up at me with sparkling, Icyes. was the colored girl from Illemerai‘a ; and standing on the wa- l . . ' . 'ter 3 edge. With her face looking sea- sward, was Madeline Graham. __ CHAPTER XV. Full of delight at the unexpected vision. I ran down the rocks. and soon leaped down upon the beach, t‘l0:C to the spot where Anita was of black granite, stretching out into Itlie sea, and whitened at its limits ‘by the chalky droppings of innumer- able sea-birds. ()n a rocky island a Ifew yards from the extreme point of Ithe promontory, sat. a flock of corâ€" morants : as I approached. they ,turned their snake-like necks, but Idid not rise. I The sun was Warm and bright, the 150:1 calm, and shimmering like steel. i1 threw myself down on the rocks, and, with face upturned to the clear Eskies. closed my eyes. A large 1bl~.n:k-winged gull wheeled. scream- Iing over me, and then sailed slowly IaWay. All I heard was the low murâ€" mur of the billows breaking sadly on the rocks beneath incâ€"that sound which “deepens silence," and has isuch solemn meanings for the trou- Iblcd human soul. I Suddenly another sound broke Inpon my ear. I started and listened. ’ l‘he soun-d seemed to come from the lying. She uttered a merry cry in Spanish, which caused her mistress .to look in my direction. Madeline [exhibited no surprise, but after 'a Imomcntary glance, continued her oc- Icupation. that of writing or draw- Iing Something on the sand with the Ipoiut of her parasol. I I Walked toward her. and greeted Iher by name. She smiled and nod- aded. but still continued intent upon Ithe sand bpncath her. I followed :tlic diio tion of her eyes and to my tutonishmcnt read my own name thus : Hug-h TrelaWney. St. Gurlott’s. . The hot blood rushed to my checks 1 but fled again almost nzediately, as I read close by the words : lcorg‘e lleilr'uth. Esq. . Both the iiias-ter’s name and my Iown were printed large and bold. iClosc by them, smaller in size and in running writing. were the incom- lplete letteis on which she was then busyâ€"â€" :‘ Madeline Grâ€"â€"â€"â€" Illut no sooner had she reached the i“r" than she glanced up at. me, . To prove no you that Dr. i Chase‘s Ointmentlsaccrtain and absolute cure (or each and every form of Itching. bleedingand pmtrudln piles, the moment-ma have guaranteed it. notes. timonicls tn the daily press and ask your neigh- I bars what they think of it. You can use It and get our mac back If not cured. 600 a box. at all calm «r auxsonxu'zs a: 00.,Toronm. I Ear. Ghase’s Ointnient Ilaughed lllCll‘ily, and obliterated it. all with her little, daintilyâ€"booted 1 foot. '- "What brought you here, Mr. Tre- lawncy ?” she said. “I thought you ound a lonely promontory I would have been at church." Here I f _ No Energy For The Daily Work But Ric . Blood IS - red, listless, weak Youidalc gave no interest in your rack the energy required .for t your usual occupation; to is not good, and your . . no attraction for you: “walzagylicadaches, it may be, and £831“ of weakness. and dizzmess; tang“ Work; going abou. your uppcu >1 :220 find wonder what causes you i ' . miserable. . toltbcifv the blood. The blood )5 thin. “1‘. which go to form down-hearted and discourâ€"I h Blood Makes the Weak Strong and the Made Rich by Dr. Chase’s Nerve Food ' and guid and miserable most of the time. I Iand was often blue and discouraged Ibecause of my continued ill«heulth. When in this state I was advis‘ Ito try Dr. Chase's Nerve Food, an.) Iditl so, with most satisfactory re- fsults. It built up my system won- Iderfully, strengthened and fostered ‘mv nerves, and tOok away all feeling of languor and fatigue. I cannot sev anything too good about Dr. Chase‘s .‘Jcrvc Food, and hope that ' \V ' I y (‘4 W Icnce. ' tOI’V and lack") ’Otllcl S lilth I) Ofit b HIV K 1 11k an(l a . e h . . I Dr. Chase's Nerve Food in the qualifies the vital force which to Prove beneficial to you, for it is . ner '3’, . as become run dowm 50m. hiflziiniiot get better without and ”‘fiqtance of some restorative. fhc :ifliconnection we mention Dr. h.‘ t; 1:5 xgrve Food, because’it has Chili? itself to be the most brown ing medicine and system- factory Sgt can be obtained. builder E} M. Brown, Cobourg, ates ‘I was completely one day’s work withâ€" uld ““itngdo laid up for about two b? I felt weak. 15"“ .with nature's laws. iccrtainly it satis- i form, in health. last spring, and. of nature’s greatest re- and acts in accordance Gradually and increases flesh and IWeight, adds new, firm muscles and 'tissues to the body, rounds out the and instils new energy and evigor into the system. 50 cents a I‘box, 6 DOXcs for $2.50, at all deal- ‘ers, or Eid‘inanson, Bates 8:. Co., Toâ€" composed l storutivcs, 5 ronto. I To protect you against imitations, Ithe portrait and signature of Dr. A. 2“". Chase, the famous receipt. book lauthor. are on every box. I fell l long there. . space of sandy And South America. is so beautiful. I I I l ! l l l I I ? Suddenly I deed,” she Iher hand, she pointed right out to l sea. 1.1 thought the same of you,” Ilhas driven over to afternoon replied. smiling. “Then you did not follow us ll” “Certainly not ; though had I knovvn, I might very possibly have done so. ed of finding you place, so far away from But who could have dreamâ€" in this solitary home ?” "My true home is far away, in- answcred ; and raising "Yonder l Sometimes I wish that, as the Scripture says, I had Wings like a bird that I might fly back I” And I saw that her beautiful eyes were dim with tears. “Have you relations there ?" I asked. "Or friends whom you love a?! J 4 . “Neitiher friends nor relations. When my dear father died I Was left quite solitary. But. I lived so , and Was so happy ! so different from this dreary land!" .I Watched her nervously. ' “Some day, perhaps, you Will re- of ’ turn ?” “Perhaps, I can not tell," she re- plied, sadly, and turning on her heel. she walked slowly toward the spot where Anita was lying. The girl looked up and showed her white teeth, smiling ; the smile broadened as her mistress spoke to her rapidly in Portuguese. ‘ "Anita. is of my opinion,” said Madeline ; “she thinks this English climate detestable, and she longs for the palms and temples of the West. I suppose I shall have to send her back. The people think her a wild saVagc. because she does not underâ€" stand their barbarous dialect, and she. will never settle in England? “And you ?” she said, presently. “Shall you remain in this lonely Cornwall all your life ‘2" The question took me by surprise, and was difficult to answer. "Who can tell ?" 1 said. “I have often thougnt of trying my fortune across the ocean, but habit has kept me chained 'to a (lull place and a cheerless occupation. Sometimes do you know, Miss Graham, I think it is all fatality. It seems so strange. for example, that I should have been brought here at all. and that, even in so unlikely a place. we two should have been once more thrown together." “It is fortunate for 1110,, at any rate. that. you became a Cornish- man." “How so ?" "Because otherwise, I might not have survivedâ€"to thank you for my life 3” "Miss Graham." I said ; “Made- lineâ€"may 1 call you again by that dear name ‘2 ever since we partied, years ago. you have been the one memory of my life ; and when we -‘ met agai n.»â€"â€"' ' I would have continued impetuousâ€" ly ; but gently disengaging her hand, she cried, “Anita ! come. it is time to go ,, home. The girl seemed to understand, for she Sfprang to her feet and pointed eagerly up the rocks. For myself, I stood stupeficd and ashamed ; but, turning again to me With a light. smile. Madeline continued. “Are you returning to the village. Mr. 'l‘relawney '? If so, let us walk together." At last we left. the rock-sown pro- montory behind us, and stepped out on the open heath. We two led the way, while Anita followod behind. so slowly that we were soon left think that We had wandered such a distance. Poor Anita. will be tired out.” ' - "And you 7" “Oh. I love a long walk l" she re plied, gayly. “Even in Denierara 1 used to wander forvhours and hours in the Woods : and once 1 was near- ly lost. Night came down suddenly. and I had to creep into the hole of a great free ; and I wasn’t frightened, though I could hear the tiger-cats crying all around me, for the fire-flies made it almost as light as day. But poor papa nearly went. out of his mind, and, after that, would never let me enter the Woods alone." "How did they find you ?" "By beating the Woods. There were about a hundred coolics cariy- ing torches, and making noise ell- ough to wake the dead. At last, as they were. passing, I popped out of my hiding-place, and cried, quite coolly, ‘Ilerc I am papa !’ He was terribly angry, but 1 was soon for- given.” "It would be a hard heart." I murmured, tenderly, “that would not forgive you anything f” She looked at. me merrily, and shook her head. “Ah, you don’t know me ! Poor papa, if he Were alive, could tell you a different talc. I was always a spoiled child, Mr. Trelawney. ” At last we came in sight of the village, and paused by the side of‘ y the moorland turn where I had parted with my uncle. My eyes were fixed earnestly on Madeline. I saw her start. change color. Following the glance of her eyes, I caught sight. of a Well-known figure approaching. It was George Iledrutli, elegantly dressed, and [carrying a walking cane. 110 came up rapidly, and I saw by the expression of his face that he was ill pleased. Ile glanced at Inc angrily and contomgptuously, and then addressed his cousin. “Where have you been 1’” he cried. ”I have been looking for you everywhere. Do you know that it is thrcc o’clock ?" “1 did not know it was, so late." and . vice ; any further. ser- I won’t trouble Trclawxiey Take my arm, and let me see you home." l I I i l l she exclaimed. "There is plenty of time for that,” '-‘Scc ! poor Anita is almost exhaustedâ€"it would be a charity to assist her : it is none to asoist me !" "I never go near niggers,” he re- tortcd ; “can’t stand them. Perhaps Trelawney is not. so particular," he added. with an insufferable sneer. ()ur eyes met, and a sharp retort was on my tongue, when Madeline broke in, with a touch of his own cutting manner : "Anita is not What you so polite- ly call her ; and as for Mr. Tre- lawney, he is at least a gentleman. incapable of making coarse remarks, even at the expense of a social inferior.” This culogium of myself seemed to afford George Redruth intense amuseâ€" ment. Possibly he thought the word “gentleman” had an odd sound ap- plied to a person of my position. I flushed to the temples, but did not trust myself to make any observav tion. Without even looking at Red- ruth. I raised my hat to Madeline. and walked rapidly away. _.._â€"_ CHAPTER X VI. Absox‘bed as I was in my newly aWakened love for Madeline, I failed to notice for some time the changes which were going on about us ; bdt I was soon brought from dreamland by the attitude which the young master chose to take. George Ilc-dr'uth had made up his mind to woo Madeline Graham, and he honored me so far as to fear that my presence in St. Gurlott’s might be the means of preventing him winning his cousin’s hand. At home things were going very badly with us. My uncle remained in the same dcsponding state. While every day fresh wrinkles appeared in my aunt’s faceâ€"bile tears Were often upon her check. I began to wonder, too, if my uncle could be right when he said that. the new overseer had a hand in poor Annie's downfall. It was strange, but since the night of Annie’s dis-appearance face had not been seen in St. Gur- lott’s. I was pondering over a salu- tion of all these mysteries. when one day an event happened which threatened to bring matters to a climax indeed. I had come up from the. mine after a prolonged inspection of it, and stood at the entrance, blinded with tallow and droppings, when suddenly I heard a wild sound of voices, and looking round I saw two men facing each other, and looking as if they were about to close in a deadly grip. One of the men was my uncle, the other was Johnson. the overseer. At. sight. of the man whom he be- lieved to be his bitterest foe, all my uncle's feeblcness secncd to fall miraculously from him. He towm‘ed above the other, and raised his clinched list as if to strike. “You villain l” he cried, ”You cowardly, treacherous villain 2 Tell me, Whar is my lass ! Tell me, or by the Lawd, I strike ’ec dead be- fore inc !" In another moment the arm Would have descended, for Johnson was Imulyzed with fear ; but I sprung forWard and caught it with a cry. “Let gaw, flugh l" he cried, im'lpracticallv alone. fiercely. “I told fee what I’d do it “How came you to Walk so far ’2” I 11W" the villain, and I’ll do't. I inquired. ”We are three or four [4001‘ at. “‘1' the “’hlte'fa-ccd cur : miles, as the crow flies from St. .hc brought t'iouble to my lass‘ , Gurlott’s ” ’ IAnd now, While she's wanderm' l “()h I'came out early and the about the earth in misery maybe. he sunshine tempted me on. I did not cooms yar *0 laugh at what lies dawn !” I still held him firmly ; and John- son, cur that, he was, seeing that the danger was passed, recovered his presence of mind. “Perhaps, now you're a little calmer.” he said, “you’ll tell me what you are raving about ?" "I will aOSWcr plied. (To Be Continueu.) LIVE STOCK MARKETS. Toronto, May 5. â€" There was ac1ive demand for butclicrs‘ cattle at the Western Cattle Market toâ€"day. and their prices were higher than be- fore. Export classes, however, were dull, and there was no enquiry for them. The buyers have had to hold over their cattle from last week ow- ing to the recent strike. in Mont- real amongst the dock hands, pens here were crowded to their ut- most capacity, the cattle being fed at the expense of the shippers. There is no call for export. sheep either. ()thcr descriptions are fair- ly active. Good calves sold readi- ly, but “hobs" were dull, and hard to get rid of. Hogs have main- tained a partial advance, and top price. is now $6.50 per cwt. The receipts were heavy, but from the total there must be deducted 31 cars of cattle, which came forward from Chicago for shipment via Queâ€" bec. The run was 105 cars, con- taining 1.720 cattle. 125 sheep, 1,- '290 hogs, and 130 calves. There were few export cattle brought forward and some that. came in remained over unsold. From $4.50 to $5 per cwt. were the. pre- vailing prices paid. Mixed butchers' and exporters' sold at $4.25 to $1.50 per cwt. in car- loads. llutchcrs' cattle were scarce. and the market for them was strong, with a tendency to advance. Export bulls, 1,600 to 2,000 lbs. each, sold at $3.75 to $4. The market for butchers' bulls was firm at $3.25 to $3.75 per cwt. There was a good demand for inilch cow‘s, and all sold. Wc quote: replied Madeline, quietly. “Anita and 1 mon. $30 to S-IO each. I went wandering across the moor and down to the sea-side, where we found Mr. Trelawney." ' Best kinds, $40 to $56 each; com- The receipts of calves were quite heavy, and the market confirmed in about. the same condition as before, He looked at me again, and I saw ithe good veal animals selling freely, his brow blacken more and more. “Lunch was served at half-past. one." he muttered, “and my mother . while young and skinny ones were not. Wanted. We quote: $2 to $10 each, and $4.50 to $5.50 per cwt. difficult Yiiiiii PEN. CHAS. W. RICHARDS, Publisher and Proprietor l I Many an Opportunity is Wasted for Gospel Letter Writing. .Entored according to Act 0! 131° 1"m'inight he trainpcd the floor. ltnmcnt of Canada. In the year UM Thousand Nine Hundred and Three. by Wu). Baily, of A despatch fro-*1 Chicago says: RcV. Frank De W Talinagc preach- cd from the fol? ing text: Daniel vi, 8, “Now, 0 king, establish the decree, and sign the writing, that it. be not changed." King Darius was about. to be caught. in a trap. The jealous state officers, who hadlong been plotting against the had at. last found a way in which they ‘thought they could destroy him. "Aha!” they chuckled. “We Johnson's. for him," I "e‘IhaVc sent forth that decree, or pub-I . . ‘ - - y , . H z . . . ‘Wheie 18 Annie Iendragon? 'lic letter, which condemned his preâ€"I Imier. Daniel, to the lions‘ den if 119' an I what the. i will make the. king sign this young upstart's death warrant. He will not know that. he is doing it. We shall play upon our royal master's vanity and ask him to send forth a public letter and sign it, so that the decree cannot be. changed.” .This public letter, or proclama- tion, was a singular document. It. was dcxterously devised to exalt the. king‘s supremacy and was well cal- culated to please an oriental despot by making him appear to his subâ€" Ijects as the exclusive source of all good. It prohibited every subject making any request of God or man, save to the king only, for a. period of thirty days. These plotters knew that Daniel was in the habit of praying to God every day, and they were sure that he would continue to do so in spite of the. king's proclam- ation. Ile would thus become an offender against the law and would incur the penalty, which was to be cast into the den of the lions. "Now,” they would say when the king signed the paper, "we shall deâ€" stroy that prime minister. We could not do it by the sword, but we shall do it by the king's impul- siVe pen.” Their plot operated as they expected, and Daniel was thrown into the den of lions. We know how the king lamented signâ€" ing the letter, but how powerless he lwas to recall his signature. I How many people have had simi- Ilar cause for regret! Ilow often words written under a hasty lin- pulse have recoiled on the writer! Spoken words may be forgotten, but written words do not change. They may be. used to condemn the writer long years after they were written; aye, after he himself is dead. Never write an important until you have had plenty of time to think it over. Foolish would be that lawyer who would quickly give a decision upon any important inat- tcr. After hearing all the state- ments of his client the wise lawyer Isays: “Wait until toâ€"inorrow, or next week, and I will tell you what to do. I do letter I believe you ought not wish to answer you without consideration. I wish to think this ‘inatter over carefully." A prominent Ilawyer of the west once told me for court he spent one half his time thinking of the arguments which his opponent might present and then a great part of the other half planâ€" ning how to refute them. And yet the strange fact is that men and women often, in the moments of greatest mental excitement, will sit down and dash off a letter upon the l [ballast of judgment to settle [in the right equilibrium they ‘liastily commit words Ily and perhaps their heavenly tiny. IIAD HE STOPPED TO THINK. Do you suppose King Darius would 3had only stopped to think? Suppos- iing the der his would IWould he not naturally have scent- .ed a fatal conspiracy in that re- Iqucst? And, my brother, if you had I-only waited one or two days before you sent. that important letter which Idid you so much harm would {have sent it? Would you not. have idestroycd it? . Never write an important letter leiich you would not. be willing for It‘he whole World to see. Many stateâ€" pillow and slept upon it, ;incnts that are perfectly proper and ”0‘ y . who Imother 5 life. I mean con- [the-re, you rightly understood by those ik'now us will not be rightly lstruetl if placed before the eyes ;the world at large. There are Imany thoughts that I might write Toronto. at the I Department of Agriculture. Ottawa.) I l I i Iplain, blunt language what I think’of I .not see I l l l I itions and denunciations, contemptu- l I Ithat when he was preparing a case most important, of subjects: without Ipriine minister '-_‘ :mving the brain time to cool or the I down letter writing Wlil .We _ _ . . ‘0 paper iAdanis‘ which “111 decide their whole earth-'Ummrv strife. We know that Alex- (105' antler Hamilton's pen, by the power' king after he had writteni lthat public decree had plaCed it un-I the . to a friend or a brother which would In great. extent . respondcnce. :tion which might. be given where a“ . . . Then my brother to oil her friend or 'oun ' ”‘1!“ in 18 ir :’ '. ‘ ’ . ’ . . 5 8 I e m u ' ifoc alike, chcr write. anything which the test of the public print. .pen's touch. ' (lelivcry stamp. land his actions. Irepcat the offence, I shall not only Ishall expose his actions to his cm- When the first ray of daylight. told that, the dawn was near, he went out to: buy the morning newspaper which1 contained the published private corâ€"I He read these pub-I fished letters in the street. When, Ihe returned, the first words he. Said I' 1to mother were: “Thank God, there is nothing compromising that I have written! Thank (lodl Thank God!" That is not the only illustra-i friend has turned upon a friend, may some (lay not be able to stand Never write a letter with a veugc-g ful pen, dipped into an ink well fillâ€"I ed with hatred. When one has been unjustly attacked, it is very easyf for an injured man to say: "I wishI I could see that man. I wish 1’ could give him a good piece of my" mind. I wish I could tell him in; of him and his actions. As I canâ€"I him, 1 will just sit downi and write him a. letter.” Then he hastily sits down and writes a De- mosthenian philippic. \‘itupcraâ€" ous excoriation, stinging ironies, bitter epigrams and whole verbal avalanches of invcctfve are gatheredl together upon the letter sheet at the Then he rushes away to the post oflice and buys a speciali 110. pounds it upon' the envelope with a blow that, sounds like a foundry in full blast. Then he goes home, saying to himâ€" self: "There, I have relieved my- self of that matter. 1 have told that man just what I think of him If he. should ever write to him another letter. but I children and to ployers. his wife, the public at large. T I'lfli REV EN (1 E FUL Ll‘lTT ER . Now, my friend, in one sense it may cane your mind to write a reâ€" vengeful letter. but what good does such a letter do ? Does it make your enemy feel any kinder or more gentle to you ‘2 Does such a letter ever make a man feel any kinder or more gentle to the great world at large '2 Have you made him a bet- ter man ‘? liavc you made yourself a better man also ? In fact, in ninety-nine cases out of a. hundred I thousands upon Ito record the secrets of your "In college you will find two groups : Group the first, boys who go to college because their fat-hers send them there. Boys who drink and smoke and who cheat at their examinations. Failuzc. Group the second, boys who go to college to prepare for life's struggle: boys who study hard and go to church and the prayer meeting, es- pecially the prayer meeting. Suc- cess. ‘Thcm that honor me. I will honor. And they that. despise me shall be lightly esteemed.’ " That these words : IWas all he wrote, but those written words, far more than any 51301503 words my father ever uttered, burn- ed themselves into my innermost being. That letter of his illustrated the power of a spiritual pcn, wielded in a Christian home. INFLUENCE OF A GOSPEL PEN. Oh, the infinite influence of a gos- pel pen ! Infinite in reference to time ! Some of us haVe seen the Assyrian histories written upon :tbe slabs of burnt brick by pens thousands of years ago. We have seen leaves of grass upon which the Greeks used to en- grave their laws, and the shoulder blades of a dead sheep's skeleton upon which the ancient Arabs used to write poetry. The. sides of the Egyptian obelisks are covered With hieroglyphics of the ancients. The first; pen wielded by man was a chisel, and the first leaf was a sheet solid rock. But, though such writings may last. hundreds and thousands of years, yet they will not last as long as the gospel words written upon the human heart by a gospel pen. Such words shall last long after this earth is dead and our souls have passed cycles of eternity in heaven. Infinite in reference to wonders accomplished ! In our na- tional museums some of us have seen pens worth a thousand times more than their weight in gold. They are the pens that have been held in the hands of presidents and kingsâ€"pens of peace or of war, pens of liberation or enslave-meat, pens which decided the material advance- ment or retardmcnt of nations. But the sacred pen of gospel letter writ- ing may be even greater in its far- reaching results. It may be the means for the liberation of immortal souls from sin. for their coronation in the heavenly redemption. Thus. in closing, I would impress upon you all the influence of a con- secrated pen. May you learn to use for God aright that pen which as a. schoolboy you once held in your chubby fingers when it would sput- ter and twist. and try to squirm out. of your hands. Use aright that pen by which as a young man you used heart when the old, old story of love be- came a new story to you in the springtime. Learn to use aright for Christ that same pen with which does not such a letter damage your neighbor and also do more damage to the sender than it does to man to whom the letter is sent 7 I once read of an eastern tyrant who wanted to destroy an enemy. He invited this enemy to sup with him. While they sat at meat. he had the waiter bring in two glasses of wine, the one poisoned and the other not. But when the king ofTered to his guest a cup he (the king) by mis- took and drank the poisoned cup. Like the king, is it not always the case when a man writes a purely re- veng‘ful letter that he. is hurt more in the. sending than the enemy is in the receiving 1' Did not the officers of state prepare their own death Warrant when they persuaded Darius to send forth the. public decree by Iwhich they hoped to destroy the Many have studied in a know the power pen in iomcnting Revoluâ€" thc effect of .of public letter writing, defeated lAaron Burr for the gubernatorial Ichair of New York State and caused ’him to challenge Hamilton to a deadly duel. We know how George Washington by letter writing after Ibis retirement from the presidential chair practically directed national legislation. We know how the. ia- n ,mous “Letters l of Junius, written have been the result? Iagainst the British ministry, might- ily changed the reading upon the pages of English history. And if we are able to study the influence of Ilctter writing in a literary and Ipolitical sense can we not study vou Iits influence in a spiritual sense ? LETTERS FROM A MOTHER. Let us first fluence of see the spiritual inâ€" lettcr writing in your own life. Strange to say. you do remember much about your as you sit have voice. vcars. She has been dead many Then you have forgotten to her words of advice “be entirely misinterpreted if read by Iiii the home. but you have never for- aan enemy or a stranger. It is very limportant that one [should never Iwritc a letter which would be capa- Ible of misconstruction if that letter lshould ever fall into the hands of a Ibitfcr foe. FRIEND AGAINST FRIEND. My father used to impress this Itllollgllt upon me by the. recollec- Itions of an awful night which he Ipasscd in an ordeal of indescribable Ihorrors. A very near and dear relâ€" ative of his was his intimate associ- Iate for many years. They were to 1each other as intimate as brothers. They confided in each other every- thing. Timc passed on, and there was a rupture. The friendship was broken. What. did that relative do? He inunediatcly took all the lettersI and l which my father had Written handed them over to the newspapers for publication. The night that my father heard of the despicable act, as he has often told me, was the most awful night of his whole. life. He knew that he had done no wrong, but he was afraid that in a gotten her letters. Somehow. after you left home, the words which she wrote to you made a far greater im- pression than the words which she !spoke. If I should go into your home and ask for your most valu- able collection of papers you would in all probability show me a collec- Ition of old yellow letters. They Iwcre written by her hand. You have Ircad them over and over again. ISome of those letters are stained as though the children had spattcred water upon them. They are stained with your tears as well as perhaps hers. The gospel advice in those with hers. The gospel advice in those letters which you were able to read in the quictude of your owu «room is to-day the Sweetest lesson that your mother ever taught. What has been true in reference to your life is also true in mine. The great- est lesson that my father taught me was not by the lip, but with the .pen. Though I had lived with him lfor eighteen years he never so over- lwhclmingly affected me as on the confidential correspondence of manyI‘day I 10ft 1'01‘ college. He placed in years he might. have written some-Imy hand a letter. He told me to thing which in the eyes of the {read it in the train. In this letter. world might be imprudent. All tliatjon one half sheet of paper, he wrote the I political sense. . of Samuel. forgotten exactly I of Iliow she looked and the tone of her vyou have again and again written a 'name upon a black bordered en- velope. Use aright that pen with which you made a last Will and tes- tament. and use aright that pen with which you can win immortal souls to Jesus Christ in the gospel invitation of private correspondence. IlHE Minus ‘ lPrices of Grain. Cattle, etc in Trade Centres. 3 Toronto, May 5.â€"W‘heat-â€"'I‘hc mar- .ket is dull, with demand limited. No. 2 white and red.quotod at 70’, to 71c, middle freights. No. 2 spring nTminal at 70c on Midland. Manitoba. wheat easier. No. 1 hard quoted at 8léc Goderich. and N0. 1 Northern at 80§c loderich. No. 1 hard, Igrinding in transit, 87:}c, lake ports and No. 1 Northern Stile. Oatsâ€"Market is quiet and steady. ,No. 1 white quoted at 2745c. east. INC. 2 white. unchanged at 30c. high freight, and at 30; to 305C middle freight. Barleyâ€"Trade is quiet, with No. 3 'extra quoted at 43 to «MC, middle .freight, and No. 3 at 4.0 to file. Cornâ€"Market is firm. Canadian feed corn quoted at 41 to 4145c west, land at 46c here. No. 3 American yellow at 50lc on track, Toronto, and No. 3 mixed at 50c. Buckwheatâ€"No. 2 nominal at 42c feast. Peasâ€"No. 2 white is quoted at 630 West, and at 65c cast. li‘lourâ€"Nincty per cent. patents unchanged at $2.673c middle freights in buyers" sacks for export. Straight rollers of special brands; for domes- Itic trade quoted at $3.25 to $3.35 iin bbls.: Manitoba flour steady: No. 11. pafiln’ts. $4.10 to $4.20, and sec- lomls $3.90 to $4.10; strong bakers, $3.80 to $1.00, bags included To- At outside points bran is qboted at $15.50 to $16.00, and shorts at. $17. Manitoba bran, in sacks, $18, and shorts at $20 here. THE DAIRY MARISETS. Butterâ€"The offerings are fair, with the tone easier generally. We quote, fresh large rolls, 17 to 17§cz choice 1~lb rolls, 18 to 18:}c; selected dairy tubs, 16 to 17c: secondary grades (rolls and tubs). 13 to 14c: (reamâ€" cry prints, 112;; to 23c; do solids, 19 l ‘ ronto. I Millfeedâ€"llran is dull, at 817 here. Ito 20c. Eggsâ€"4110 market is firm, with sales at 13c. per dozen. ‘ Cheeseâ€"Market. steady. We quote: Finest (old), 14c; do (new), 13:)c. IIOG PRODUCTS. Dressed hogs are nominal. Cured meats are unchanged, with a good demand. We quote zâ€"llacon. clear, 10 to 1023, in ton and case lots. lParke-Idem, $21.50; do short cut, ‘32250 to $23. Smoked meatsâ€"Hams, 13 to lilac; rolls, llgc; shoulders, 10%,. to 11c ; backs, 14 to Mile; breakfast bacon, 14 to lilo. Lardâ€"The market is unchanged. We quote :-â€"'1‘ierces, 102C ; tubs, 11c; pails, llic; compound, 8} to Sic. ._. ”A, -‘_\,A,.\~.~\.\A- .- .. n. «3M.«A..m.~_mw-mw¢«fi ~ g c‘ 4' Q Q 0 o 4 o