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513:. of o of tho r: ad tho jutton. I023.- n or am. LXCS a! Dr. L; Blood 1. DON'T imply lend late. And any. 205 tom!!! 80 Brie: that gym: in aka; t. {to RI). ROWS man .nnd n1! Atton Con ,Toronto. :9. 0:15 \ ROPE ‘0» 11. X'Exis beam- ihl Cold- iilell Sol- red gr supp! y »r_ power. tdit fa >lvl. 03C. --v pgyf-b . u and .vknflb‘ r 011 in .v9 bait :emall receiv - £331in :ses {pl}. and IO. 1" .o bald- Colo” Extra. Spice. and D 913.qu IATOI‘ 1d Gold and kid: is sup- tppcd Ln loo. nob. in exqtfi- collar. £53169. ‘icBeII ii an ic Bell who PURSUED BY TRIALS. > mmeOZ O." mZOOCW>QmZmZ.â€". 4.0 410mm anCOAMâ€"u. HUNTING THE DEER THE THEME. Washington. Oct. 15.â€"The gospel u a. great. refreshment. is here set toth by Dr. Talumge under a. figure Which will be found particularly graphic by those who have gone out. n hunters to 11nd game in the moun- tains; text, Psalm xlii, 1, “As the hart pantem af ter the water brooks.” Tho 003,01 3. . Refreshment Grlphically David, who must some time have Ieen a. deer hunt. points us here to a hunted stag making for the water. The fascinating animal, called in my text the hart. is the same animal that in sacred and profane literature is called the stag, the roebuck. the hind, the gazelle, the reindeer. In central Syria in Bible times there were whole pasture fields of them. as Solomon suggests when he says. "I charge you by the hinds o! the field." Their antlers jutted from the long grass as they lay down. No hunter who has been long in ”John Brown's tract" will wonder that in the Bible they Were claSSed among clean animals. for the dews, the showers, the lakes, washed them as clean as the sky. When Isaac, the patriarch. longed for venison, Esau ehot and brought home a roebuck. Isaiah compares the sprightliness of the restored cripple of the millennial time. to the long and quick jump of the stag. saying. "The lame shall leap as the hart." Solomon expressâ€" ed his disgust at a hunter who, hav- ing shot a deer, is too lazy to cook it. saying, “The slothfuvl man roastâ€" etn not that which he took in hunt- mg-Dl But one day David, While far from the home from which he had been driven and sitting near the mouth of I. lonely cave where he had lodged end on the banks of a. pond or river. hears a. pack of bounds in swift pur- euit. Because of the previous silence of the forest the clangor startlee him. and he says to himself, “I won- der what those dogs are after." Then there is a. crackling in the brushwood and the loud breathing 0! some rushing wonder of the woods, and the antlers of a deer rend the leaves of the thicket. and by an instinct which all hunters re cognize it plunges into a pond or lake or river to cool its thirst and 3t the same time. by its capacity for swifter and longer swimming, to get away from the foaming har- tiers. David says to himself: "Aha! That is myselfl Saul-after me, Absalom ofter me, enemies without number otter me. I am chased. their bloody mmzzles at my heels. barking at my good name, baeking after my body. barking after my soul. Oh, the hounds, the ‘houndsl But look there!" says David. “That hunted deer has splashed into the water. It puts its hot lips and nostrils into the cool wave that: washes the lath- erod flanks, and it swims away from the fiery canines, and it. is free at last. Oh, that. I might find in the deep, wide lake of God's mercy and consolation escape from my pursuersl Oh, for the waters of life and res- cue As the hart panteth after the water brooks, so panteth my soul that thee. O God." Somo of you have just come from the Adirondacks. and the breath of the balsam and spruce and pine is still on you. The Adirondacks are now populous with hunters, and the deer are being slain by the score. Once while there talking with a. hun- tor I thought I Would like to see whether my text was accurate 10 its allusion, and as I heard the dogs haying a. little way of! and supposed they were on the track of ; deer I laid to the hlmtor in rough corduroy, “Do the deer always make tor the water when they are pur- .ued?" Ho said: “Oh, yes, mister. You see, they are a hot. and thirsty animal. and they know where the wgter is, and when they hear dan- ;0 get into our cedar shell boat. or stand by the runway with rifle load- .d ready to blaze away.” My friends, that is one reason why I like the Bible so much. Its par- tridges are real partridgcs, its os- triches real ostriches and its rein- deer reel reindeer. I do not wonder that this antlered glory of the text nukes the hunter’s eye sparkle and his cheek glow and his respiration quicken, to say nothing of its use- fulness. although it is the most use- ful of all game. its flesh delicious. its skin turned into human apparel, its sinews fashioned into bow strings, its antlers putting handles on cutlery and the shavings of its horns used as a. restorative, its name taken from the hart and called harts- horn. By putting aside its useful- s coronal branching into every pos- sible curve, and, after it seems done, ucanding 1x330 other projections of uquinitenhas. a treegfif'polished bong” uplifted in pride o'i- swung‘dowu ‘30:- gwful combat! It is Velocity a. bodicd, timidity tumor-outed. gar 1n the distance they lift their cutlets and snuff the breeze and start tor Racquet or Loon or Vb‘zg'atnac, and no“ this enchanting creature seems and. out of gracefulness and elasti- city. What an eye, with a, liquid brightness as if gathered up from a hundred lakes at sunset! The horn. Well, now, let all those who have coming utter them the lean hounds of poverty or tho black hounds of persecution or the spotted hounds o! vicmitude or the pale bounds of dosth or who are in any wise pur- sued run to the wide, deep, glorious lake of divine solace and rucue. The moat ol the men and women whom I hopper: to know at difleront times, 3 not now. how: had trouble after them. sharp, puzzled troubles, swift anubloo, all devouring troubles. flaw of you htve made the mistake at trying to fight them. Somebody Innly attack“! you, 1nd you up lot Forth-30111:. in God‘s Word {or Thou furInod by tho Hound. 0! Poverty Ind 31 isfortuuo. VOL. VI. NO. 42. $1 per annum, ,. {and «9:0ch in THE OMEMEE MIRROR. and you depreciated them, or they oval-reached you in a bargain. and you tried in Wall street parlance. to get a corner on them. Or you have had bereavement, and, instead of be- lng submissive. you are fighting that bereavement. You charge on the doctors who have failed to efl'ect a cure. Or you charge on the care- lessness of the railroad company through which the accident occurred. Or you are a chronic invalid, and you fret and worry and scold and wonder why you cannot be well like other people, and you angrily charge on the neuralgia or the lurnygitis or the acne or the sick headache. The fact in you are a deer at bay. Inâ€" stead or running to the waters of di- vine consolation and sluking your thirst and cooling your body and soul in the good cheer of the gospel and swimming away into the mighty deeps of God's love, you are fight- ing a. whole kennel of barriers. Some time ago I saw in the Adir- ondacks a. dog lying across the road, and he seemed unable to get up. and I said to some hm ers, ”What is the matter with tiat dog?" They answered, “A deer hurt him," and I saw he had a sunllen paw and a. but- tered head. showing where the antâ€" lers struck him. And the probabiliâ€" ty is that some of you might give a mighty clip to your pursuers. You might damage their business. you might worry them into, ill health, you might hurt them as much as they hurt you; but. after all, it is not worth while. You Only have hurt a. hound. Better be of! for the Upper Saranac, into which the mountains of God's eternal strength 1001: down and moor their shadows. There are whole chains of lake: in the Adirondacks, and from one height you can see 30 lakes, and there are said to be over 800 in the great wil- derness. 80 near are they to each other that your mountain guide picks up and carries the boat from lake to lake. the smell distance be tween them for that reason called a. "carry." And the realm of God’s word is one long chain of bright, re- freshing lakes, each promise e. lake, 9. very short Curry between them, and, though for ages the pursued have been drinking out of them. they are full up to the top of the green banks, and the same David describes them, and they seem so near to- gether that in three different places he speaks of them as a continuous river. saying, "There is a river the streams whereof shall make glad the city of Codz" “Thou shalt make them drink of the rivers of thy pleas- uresz” "'l'hnu greatly enrichest it with the river of God, which is full of water.” But many of you have turned your back on that supply and confront your trouble. and you are soured with your circumstances, and you are fighting society, and you are fighting a. pursuing world, and troubles, inâ€" stead of driving you into the cool lake of heavenly comfort, have made you stop and turn round and lower your head, and it is simply antler against tooth. I do not blame you. Probably under the same circum- stances I would have done worse. But you are wrong. You need to do as the reindeer does in February and Marchâ€"it sheds its horns. But very many of you who are wronged of the worldâ€"and if in any assembly between the Atlantic and the Pacific oceans it were asked that all who had been badly treated should raise both their hands, and full response should be made, there would be twice as many hands lifted as persons presentâ€"I say many of you would declare, “We have always done the best we could and tried to be useful, and why we become the victims of malignment or invalidism or mishap, is inscrutable.” Why, do you know that the finer a. deer and the more elegant its proportions and the more beautiful its bearing the more anxious the hunters and the hounds to capture it? Therefore sarcasm draws on you its "finest beam" therefore the world goes gunning for you with its best Winchester breechloader. High- est compliment is it to your talent or your virtue or your usefulness. You will be assailed in proportion to your great achievements. The best and the mightiest Being the world ever saw had Set after him all the hounds, terrestrial and diabolic, and they lapped his blood after the Calvarean massacre. The world paid nothing to its Redeemer but a. bram- ble, four spikes and a. rross. Many who have done their best to make the world better have had such a. rough time of it that all their pleas- ure is in anticipation of the next. world, and they would, if they could, express their own feelings in the words of the Baroness of Nairn. at the close of her long life. when ask- ed if she would like to live her life over again: Would you be young again? Faint and astray? Night's gloomy watches fled; Morning, all beaming red; Hope's smile around us shed, HeavenWard, away! But what is a. relief for all those pursued of trouble and annoyance and pain and bereavement? My text gives it to you in a. word of three letters, but each letter is e. chariot if you triumph, or a throne if you want to be crowned, or a lake if you would slake your thirstâ€"yea, e. chain of three lakesâ€"Gâ€"o-d, the one for Whom David longed and the one whom David found. You might as well meet a. stag which. efter its eixth mile‘of running et the topmost speed through thicket end gorge and with the breath of the dog: on ite heels. has come in full eight of Schroon Lake and try to cool its projecting end blister-ed tongue with a. blade of grass as to attempt to eetlsfy en immortal eeul, when fly- ing from trouble and sin, with eny- thing less deep and high and broad end immense and infinite end eternal then God. Hie comfortâ€"why, it em- beeeome ell (lets-see. an uniâ€"u Onward I'll hie. Life's dark wave for'ded o'er. All but at rest on shore, Say. would you plunge onco morn, With home so nigh? I! you might, would you now Retrace your way. Wander through stormy wilds, So Would not I. Om tear of memory given wrenches of! all bondage. His hand â€"it wipe: away all tears. His Christly atonementâ€"it, makes us all right. with the past, and all right with the future, and all right. with God, all right with man. and all right forever. Lamartine tells us that King Nim- rod said to his three sons: ”Here are three vases, and one is of clay, another of amber and another of gold. Choose now which you will have.” The eldest son, having the first choice, chose the vase of gold, on which was Written the word “Em- pire," and when it was opened it was found to contain human blood. The second son. making the next choice. chose the vase of amber, in- scribed with the word “Glory." and when opened it contained the ashes of those who were once called great. The third son took the vase of clay and, opening it, found it empty, but on the bottom of it was inscribed the name of God. King Nimrod ask- ed his courtlers which vase they thought weighed the most. The ave.- ricious men of his court said the vase of gold, the poets said the one of amber, but the wisest men said the empty vase, because one letter of the name of God outweighed a. universe. For him I thirst, for his grace I beg, on his promise I bu-ild my ell. Without him I cannot be happy. I have tried the world, and it does well enough as far as it goes. but it is too uncertain a. world, too evanescent a. world. I am not a. pre- judiced witness. I have nothing against this world. I have been one of the most fortunate or, to use a. more Christian word, one of the most blessed of menâ€"blessed in my parente, blessed in the place of no.- tivity, blessed in my health, blessed in my fields of work, blessed in my natural temperament, blessed in my family, blessed in my opportunities. blessed in the hope that my soul will go to heaven throth the pardoning mercy of God, and my body, unless it be lost st sea. or cremated in some conflegrstiom will lie down among my kindred and friends, some already gone and others to come at- Through Jesus Christ make this God your God, and you can with- stand anything and everything, and that which ai‘frights others will in- spire youâ€"us in time of earthquake, when an old Christian woman, asked whether she was scared, answered, “No; I am glad that I have a God who can shake the world," or as in a financial panic, when a Christian merchant, asked if he did not fear he would break, answered, “Yes: I shall break when the Fiftieth Psalm breaks in the fifteenth verse, "Call upon me in the day of trouble; I will deliver thee, and thou shalt glorify me.’ " We are told in Revelation xxli, 15, “Without are dogs," by which I con- clude there is a whole kennel o! hounds outside the gate of heaven, or, as when a. master goes in a door, his dog lies on the steps waiting for him to come out, so the troubles of this life may follow us to the shining door. but they cannot get in. "Without are dogs." I have seen dogs and owned dogs that I would not be chagrined to see in the hen- venly city. Some of the grand old watchdogs who are the constabulary of the homes in solitary places and for years have been the only protec- tion of wife and child, some of the shepherd dogs that drive back the wolves and bark away the flock from going too near the precipice and some of the dogs whose neck and paw Landseer, the painter, has made immortal would not find me shut- ting them out from the gate of shin- ing pearl. I say if some soul entering heaven should happen to leave the gate ajar and these faithful creatures should quietly walk in it would not at all disturb my heaven. But all those human or brutal hounds that have chased and torn and lacerated the worldâ€"yea, all that now bite or worry or tear to piecesâ€"shall be prohibited. "Without a-re dogs." No place there for harsh critics or back- biters or despoilcrs of the reputation of others. DOWn with you to the kennels of darkness and despair! The hart has reachfi the eternal wa- ter brooks. and the panting o! the long chase is quieted in still pas- tures, anh "there shall be nothing to hurt or destroy in all God's holy mount." Oh, when some of you get there it will be like what a hunter tells of when he was pushing his canoe far up north in the winter and amid the ice floes and a hundred miles, as he thought, from any other human beings. He was startled one day as- he heard a stepping on the ice, and he cocked the rifle, ready to meet anything that came near. He found a man, barefooted and insane from long exposure. approaching him. Taking him into his canoe and kin- bling fires to warm him, he restored him. found out where he had lived and took him to his home and found all the village in great excitement. A hundred men were searching for this lost man. and his family and friends rushed out to meet him, and, as had been agreed at his first ap- pearance, bells were rung, and guns were discharged, and banquets spread and the rescuer loaded with pros. ents. Well, when some Of you step out of this wilderness, [wheres y_ou have been chilled and torn aid some- times lost amid the icebergs, into the warm greetings of all the vil- lages of the glorified, and your friends rush out to give you welcom- ing kiss, the news that there is an- other soul forever saved Vivill call: the caterers of heaven to spread the'ban- quet and the bellmen to lay hold .of the rope in the tower, and while chalices click at the feast and the bells clang from the turrets it will be a. scene so uplifting I pray God I may be there to take part in the celestial merrimcnt. And now do you not think the prayex' in Solomon’s Song where he compared Christ to e reindeer in the night would make an exquisitely appropriate peroration to my sermon. "Until the day break and the shadows flee away he thou like e. roe or a. young hart upon the mountains of Bether?" Hens three years old are not profit;- uble to keep, except they are of tho small laying varieties. “OH, WAD SOME POWER THE GIFTIE GIE US, TAE SEE OORSELS AS ITBERS SEE US." Kill .fl'Thu Old Haul. OMEMEE ONT, THURSDAY, OCTOBER 19, 1899 g By MRS. McV. MILLER. 2 06009900009000960000009000 9999oovovoooovvvovvoovooog She swung into the little skiffâ€"one of her uncle’s loving gifts to his nieceâ€" :md suffered it to drift out into the blue waves. A fresh breeze was blow- ing and the water was rather rough. The breeze blew the soft. short rings of gold merrily about her white tempins Where the blue veins were soon wander- ing: beneath the transpu'x'em skin- The last time she had been out rowing her hair had floated like a banner of gold on the breeze, and her cheek had gluwed crimson as the sunny side of a peach. Now the sham lacks and the marble pullou- 01' her ("hm-ks (old a. different Sim-y. Love and bl-uuty had both left 1101‘. she L'lumglit, nmum-fully. Yet 11:!- tux'e was as lowly us ever, t'liv blue sky was mlirmrvd as rmli-zmtly in the blue sou, the sunshine still s-lmm- brightly, the breeze still whispered as londi-rly to its swccvlhvums, the tlmvors- She ulu-e was sad. She stayed out a long whilv. It was so sunny and warm it set-11ml like a summer instead 01‘ :m untumn day. The sen-gulls sported joyonsly abnve the surface 01' the wan-1'. now and than a. silvery fish lenpml up in the sunshinr, its s-nlos shining in beautiful rainbow hues, and shedding the crys-ml drops of spray from its body like a shown-r of diamonds, and the (-m'lew's call echoed (n or the 50:1. Now she had loved these things in the gay and careless girlhood that begin to seem so far away in the pant. A sudden voiee and step broke on her fancied solitude. She turned quickly, and found herself face to face with the wandering Silly]. \Vild Madge. 'l'he half-crazed erenture was, as usual. bm‘e‘houllod, her white locks streaming in the air, her 1' 'uyed and tattered tiuery waving I'antustil-ully about her lea 1. lithe figure. She looked at Bunnilml ith a hideous leer of triumph. “All, maiden!" she criedâ€"“said I not truly that the bitter wuters of sorrow v ere about to flow over you? You will not mock the old woman‘s predictions now.” “\Vhorc is the guy young lover now?" criod \Vild Madge. laughing wille. “The summer lover who went away be- rure the summer waned? Is he false, or is he dmd. maiden, that he is not here to sholtm- “mt bonny head from the storm of sorr'm'?" Bunnihel stand silent, gazing in terri- fied silence :1: the cmaking old raven. “Pt-1w. woman,“ said Bonnibel, sadly. “\V-hy do you intrude on my gxfigf with your unwelcome presence?" “('nwelemne, is it, my bonnie bird? Ah. well; ’tis but a thankless task to foretell the future to the young and thoughtless. But, Bonnibel Vere, in will reniemlmr me. even though it be but to hate me. I tell you your sor- rows are but begun. New perils on- \‘iron your future. Think not that mine is but a boasted art. Those things which are hidden from yon lie open to the gaze of “Wild Madge like a printed page. She can rmd your hands; she can read 1he sun-s: she cm) read the open face of nature!” \Yu‘ld Madge stood still on the shore a few minutes, looking after the girl as her slim. black-robod figure walked away with nhe slow step of weakness and m-ariness. “You rave, poor creature," said Bon- nibel, turning away, with :1 shiver of unrcawning terror, and pursuing her homeward way. “It is (L bonny maid.“ she said, alloud; “a bonny maid. Beautiful as an angel, gentle as a dove But beauty is a gift of the gods, and seldom given for aught but sorrow." When Bonnibel arrived in New York‘ the day after her recontre with the sibyl, she found her uncle’s fine carriage in waiting for her wt the depot. Mrs- Atmold, though she would gladly have: cast the girl 01f, wrs too much afraid of the world’s dictum to carry her wishes into effect. She determined. therefore ,that society should have no ‘cfi'u'se to accuse her of failing in kind- ness to her'hus-b'a'nd‘s orphan niece. She knew well what disapprobatjon and cm- sure a contrary course Would have created, for the beautiful daughter of the famous GCIIQI‘JI Vere, though she had not yet been formally introduced to Society, was widely celebrated for her grace and beauty. and her debut, while she had been considered her uncle‘s heiress. had been anticipated with much interest. Of course her penniless con- dition now would make a great dif- ference in the eyes of the fickle World of fashion, but still Mrs. Arnold knew nothing could deprive Bonnibel of the prestige of birth and rank. The young mother who had died in giving her birth. had been one of the proud and well-born Arnol'ds. Her father, a gay and gallant soldier, though he had quickly dissipated her mother's fortune. had yet left her a prouder heritage than wealth-n fame that Would live for- ever in the annals of his country, per- petuating in his-Dory the name of the (mimirous soldier who had gullcautly tullen at the head of his command while engaged in one _ of the most gallant “ "l‘is mvoot to sit midst a merry throng In the Woods, and hour the wild-bird's gqfioiu on repeti- song; But swoutur fur is the ceaseless dlrge. The music low of the moaning surge; It frets and foams on the sbolLstrewn shore. Forever and ever. and overmom I crave no flower from the wood: or field. No rare exotic that hut-buds yield: lec me the Woods that wildly cling. On lhc barn-n racks llwlr shelter fling; Those are the flowers ln-lovod by l)1\.~- They grow in the depths of the deep blue sea!" An Old Man’s Darling. CHAPTER VIII. “Yo-u neod not be jealous of her youth and beauty any mnre, Felise,” said Mrs. Arnn'ld cmnplucomly to her daughtvr. “She has changed almost be yoml recognition. Did you ever see Inch g fright?" Felise Herbert, hovering over vha bright fire that burned on the marble hearth. looked up angrily. “Mother, you talk‘lzlke a fool," dhe sarid, roughly. “How can you full to see that; she is more beautiful tfimn over? She only looked like 1 great wax dull befu‘re with her pink cheeks and lung curls. Now with that now expres- sion that hm: come into her face she looks like a haunting picture. One Could not fut‘gttt Sllt‘h a face. And nmurning is pvrt’m-tly haunting 1» her blonde com- plc-xiou. while my olive skin is rendered perfectly hideous by it. I see no reason “by l s’ho-uld spoil my looks by wearing black for a man that was no relation of mine, and whom I cordially hurled!” So Bonnibed found a welcome, albeit g chilling one, waiting for hwr in Mrs. Arnold’s grand dmwing-mom when she arrived there cold and weary. The mother and daughter touched her fingefs carelessly, and offered frigid congratu- lat’iuns upon her rut-0w”. Mrs. Arnold din-n dismiswd her to her own apart- ments To rest and refresh her toilet under the care of her maid. Mrs. Arnold saw that Felise was in a passion. and she began to grow nerv- ous accordingly. lt‘elise, if that were possible, was a worse woman than hex- mother, and possessed an iron will. She was the power behind the throne before whom Mrs. Arnold trembled in fear and bowed in adoration. She haste-Hal to consode the angry girl. "I think you are mistaken, my dear," she said. “I cannot see a vostige of prettiness left. Her hair is gone, her color has faded. and she never smiles now to show the dimples that people used to call so distmcting. ll‘lhure are fow that would give her a socond glam-e. Besides, what is beauty without wealth? You know in our world it simply counts for nothing. She can never rival you a second now that in is known that she has no money. and that you will be my hoirvqa." “As to the black,” pursued Mrs. Ar- nold, “of course you and I know that it is a mare sham; but then, Felise, it is necessax‘y to make that much con- cession to the opinion of (the world. How they would cavil if you failed in that mark of respect 1!; the memory of your step-father." They sullen countenance of Felise tr can to grow brighter at the iamrr con- soluwry ciausp “And then, no doubt, you will don the bmidal robe as wife of the millionaire, Colonel Carlyle,” Mrs. Arnnlll rejoined, with an air of grout satisfaction. . “There is one consolation,” said Felise, brightening up, “I can lay it aside with- in a year." “Perhaps so,” said her daughtm‘, Cloud- ing over again; “but you need not be so sure. He has not proposed yet.” “I expected he would do so, until now," said Felise, sharply. "The old doturd appeared to udmire me very much: but since Bonnibal Vere has re- turned to flaunt her baby-bounty before him, ’his fickle fancy may turn to her. A pretty face can make a fool of an old am. you know.” “\\'0 must keep her in the back- ground, then," said Mrs. Arnold, reas- suringly. "Not that I am the least up- px-ehensive of danger. my dear, but since your fears take that direction he shall not see her until all is secure. and you must bring him to the point as soon as p0>sible." “But he will soon," asserted the widow, confidemly. “I have done my best," said Felise, “but he hovers on the brink, apparently afraid to take the leap. I cammt under- stand such dawdlim: on the part of one who had already bm'iod two wives. He cannot be afflicted with timidity." “W’e must give him a. [hint that I shall setJtle fifty thousand (10111115 on 3011 the day you marry” said 1101 momher "I bane heard that he is \en munici- ous. It is common vice of age and infirmity. He fears you will spend his wealth too freely." “And so I will. if I get a (Jhanvef’ said I’elise, coarsely. “I havo been stinted all my life by the stepfather who hated me. Let me but become Mrs. Celene] Carlyle, and I assure you I will queen it right royally.” “You would become the position very much," said the admiring mother, “and I shall be very proud of my daughter‘s graceful ease in spending her husband's nlilliu1)s-" Miss Herbert’s proud lips curled in triumph. Sine arose and began to pace the floor resvtlessly. her eyes shining with pleased anticipation of the day which she hoped was not fur-distant when she would marry the “it’ll man whose woulth the coveted, and become a queen in so- ciety. She looked around her at the splendor and elegance of her mother's drawing-room with dissatisfaction and resolved that her own should be far more fine and costly, her attire more extravagant, and her diamonds more splendid She was tired of reigning with her mother. She wanted to rule over a kingdom of her own. Feldse had no more heart than a stone. She thought only out self. and felt not the first. emotion of gmtitude to the mother who had schemed and planned for her all her life. All she desired “as unbounded wealth and the powu- to rule in her own right. “Miss Felise has caught a berm gt last.” said Bonnibel's maid t6 her as she brushed the soft locks of her mist-ress. She had been having a. hasty clmt with Miss Herbert's maid since her arrival that day, and had gathered a good deal of gossip in the servants‘ hall. “Indeed?" asked Bonnibel, Innguidly, “He is a. Colonel Carlyle. miss; 8. very old man Janet do say, but worth his mil-lions. He have buried his two wives already, I hear, and Miss Herbert is like to be a. third one. I wish him joy of. her; Janet knows what her temper is.” “Indeed?" asked Bonniln “what is his name Lucy? “You need not speak so, Lucy,” said B<mnibexl, reprovingly, to the maid whose loquacfity was far ahead or her gram- mar. “I dare say Janet gives be: cause to indulge in temper sometimes.” “Lox! Misl ’ Bannibei," said Lucy- I?" Felise need not have troubled herself with the fear of Bonnibel's rivalry. The young girl was only too willing to be kept in the background. In the seclu- Iion which Mrs- Arnold deemed it Draw per to observe utter their dreadful and tragic bereavement they received but few visitors and Bonnihel was glad that her recent illness was con'siderd a suf- ficient pretext for denying herself to even these few. Some there wereha few old friends and one or two loving sehmulunitesâ€"who refused to be denied and whom Bonnibel reluMnntly admit- ted, but these few found her so changed in appearance and broken in spirit that they went away marveling at her per- sisttent grief for the uncle whom the World blamed very much because he had failed to provide for her as became her birth and position. “Janet is as mild as a dove; but Miss Folise, who have slapped Janet’s mouth twice, and scolds lwr day in und day (mt. Janet says that Colonel Carlyle will catch a Tartar when he gets her.” “Be quiet, Lucy: my head aches,” said Bonnibel, thinking it very improper for the girl to disvuss her superior's af- fairs so freely; she therefore dismissed the subject and thought no more about it. little dreaming that it was one por- [unions of evil to herselt. But: while the world censured Mr- Arnold's neglect or her, Bonnibel never blamed her uncle by word or thought. She believed what he had told her on the memorable evening of his death. He had provided for her, she knew, and the will. perhaps, had been lost. What had become of it she could not conjecture, but she was far from imputfing foul play to anyone. The thought never entered her mind. She was too pure and in- nocent herself to suspect evil in others. and the overwhelming horror of her unde's tragic death still brooded over her spirit to the utter exclusion of all other cares save one, and that one s sore, sore trial that it needed all her energies to endure, the silence of Leslie Dane and her anxieties regarding his fate; for still the days waned and faded and no tidings came to the sick heart that waited in passionate suspense for a sign from the loved and lost one. Strange to say, she had never leumed the fatal truth, that Leslie Dane stood churgvd with her uncle’s murder, and that justice was still on the elem to discover his whereabouts. Duning her severe and neanly fatal illness all ap- proach to the subject of the murder had been prohibited by the careful physician, and on her convulesoence the news- papers had been excluded from her .ight and the subject tabooed in heu- presence. She had forgouen the solemn charge of Felise Herbert and her mother that fatal night which she had so in» dighuntly refuted. Now she was spared the knowledge that the malignity or! the two women had succeeded in fixing the crime on the innocent head of the man she loved. Had Bonnibel known that fact she would have left Mrs. Arnold's roof, although starvation and death had been the inevitable consequence. But she did not know. and so moped and pint-d in her chamber. fearful and ut- terly despairing, oblivious to the fact that she was doing what Felise most de- sired in thus secluding herself. CHAPTER IX. A blind chance at last brought nbo-It the fatal meeting between Bonnibel Vere and Colonel Carlyle which Felise Herbert so greatly dreaded and dab preml t ed . As the autumn months merged into winter Bonnibe] had developed a new phase of her trouble. A great and ex- ceeding restlessness took possession of She no longer moped in her chambe’. thmking and thinking on the one sub- ject than; began to obscure even the memory of her Uncle ancis. She had broodod over Leslie's strange silenrre urtil her brain reeled with agony-now s strange longing for oblivion and for- gcn‘ulnoss took hold upon her. “0le! for that fnlnlod Lethean draught which men drink and s-trulghtway all the past is forgotten!" she would mur- mur Wildly as she paced the floor, wring,- ing her beautiful hand: and weeping. “Rather Leslie has deserted me car he is dead. In either case it is wretched- ness to remember him! Oh! that I could forget!” Shrouded in her thick veil and long cloak she began to “‘1"; long rambling walks every day, returning “64:1" ::“rl fatigued, so that sleep, which for awhile hnd deserted her pillow, began to return, and in long and heavy slumb- ms she Would lose for a. little whle the memory of the handsome artist so deeply loved in that brief and beauti- ful summer. Thc:e days were gone for ever. Her brief spring of happiness was oxen. It seemed to her that the only solace that remained to her weary heart was forgetfulness. Once, rendered desperate by her sus- pense. she had written 11 letter to Leslie â€"a long and loving letter, full of tender xeprnuches for his silence. and contain- ing: the whole story of her uncle‘s tmgic death. She had begged him to send her just one Little line to assure hea- thud: She was not forgotten, and this beau- tiful little letter, filled with the pu'e thoughts: of her innocent heart, she had directed to Rome, Italy. No answer mme to that yearning cry from the aching heart of the little wife. She waited until hope became :1 hide- ous mockery. She began to think how strange it was that she, little Bcnn'ibel Vere, who looked so much like a child, with her shout hair and baby-blue eyes. was really a w‘fe. BuNoa- the shining opal ring with fts pretty inscription, “Mizpah,” which Leslie had placed upon her finger that night, she would have begun to believe that it was all a fever- ed dream. She was thinking of that ring one day as she walked along the crowded sheet, filled with eager shoppers. for Christmas was drawing near. and peo- ple were buSy providing holiday gifts for their dear ones. “Mizpah!” she repeated to herself. walking heedlessly along the wet and sleety pavement. “That menus “the Lord watch between thee and me while we are absent one from another.’ 011. Leslie, Leslie!" Absorbed in painful thoughts shebe- gun to quicken her steps, quite forget- ful or: the thin sheet of ice that covered the pavemept, and which required verv CHAS. W RICHARDS, Publisher and Proprietor. Canada's Relation to Great Britain. I In speaking at the opening of Strath- my fair, Sir Wilfred Laurier referred to Canada’s relation to the Empire and to the United States. Replying to an address which referred to his efforts towards strengthening the union with Great Britain, he said :â€" “I am glad to receive the testimony which you bear to the efforts which I have made in the cause of the Em- pire. For this also I claim no credit, and deserve none, and ask for none. There was no other course for me to follow. The career of the British Empire is such as to make it incumb- ent upon every man, wherever he may be within that empire, to strengthen our bonds and the close alliance which we have with the motherland. Especially I am proud to say so in the presence of an audience of farmers, because it is the farmers most of all who would have the benefit by such a drawing closer of the ties of the em- pire. The motherland is simply won- derful in many respects. It is no more wonderful, however, politically than it is commercially. As you know, gentlemenâ€"as you know, you gentlemen farmersâ€"the best market we have at the present moment is the British market, and it is always in- creasing. I am proud to say that at this moment our trade with Great Britain is greater than it ever was at any time in our history. And yet we have not yet reached the summit of , it. There is till more to do in that 3 direction, and for my part, gentle- men, I think we ought to have the topmost place in the British market. (Loud applause.) And why? Be- cause in all the products of the farm we can claim superiority over all com petitors. (Hear, hear.) It is not saying too much, it is simply telling the naked truth, to say that in all the products of the farm Canada stands, or ought to stand, superior to any other portion of the globe. careful walking. How it happened she could not think, but the next moment she felt one ankle twisting suddenly he- neath her with a dreadful pain in it, and found herself falling to the ground. With an exclamation of term:- she tried to recover her balance. but vainly. She lay extended on the ground, her hat and veil falling off. and exposing her benmtiml pale face with its cluster- ing locks of sunny hair. People crowded around her immediate- ly, but the first to reach her was a gentleman who was coming out of a jéwelry store in front of which she had slipped and fallen. He lifted her up tundefly. and a. wo was restored her hat and veil. “We want,” he continued, “to be on the very best of terms with our neighbors to the south; we want to trade with them; but if they will not trade with us our hearts will not be broken by the fact. (Hear, hear, and applause.) We can live without them, we can prosper without them; though I make no secret that there are many things upon which I for one would be glad to have better rela- tions with them. But if the price is to be paid by the sacrifice of Canad- ian honor, we will have none of that price, and we will continue to do as we are doing nowâ€"paddle our own canoe. (Cheers) I speak here in no boasting tones. I speak with the full sense of the responsibility that at- taches to my words. We want to have the very best relations with our neighbors, but while we want to have the very best relations with our neigh- bors, above all things our aim, our purpose, insâ€"Canada. first, Canada last and Canada always. ” Slavery in England is of very an- cient standing. Caesar states that it existed as an institution among the Celts, and in Roman England the non- quered natives were held in a state of serfdom. In Saxon and early Norman times the children of the old English peasantry, and captives taken in war, were sold like cattle in Bristol mar- ket, and many were exported to Scot- land and Ireland. Doomsday Book states that the slaves numbered 26,000. Soon after the Conquest the distinct slave class ceased to eixst, and the slaves were merged with the lower class or ceorls under the general desig- nation of villeins. These villeins in early feudal times were annexed to the land and were divisable as goods and chattels, but in process of time the higher class of villeins gained a title to the land on which they work- ed, and after the reign of Richard II. we find lit-1e reference to villeinage. Although 6 church had early suc- ceeded in putting an end to the Eng- lish slave traffic, by the Canon of the Council of 1102, slavery was never abolished by any positive enactment; and it was not till 1660 that the last remnants of the feudal system were finally swept away. Slavery was abolished, but slavery did not cease here;for until the time of George III. colliers were bought and sold, and if they left the estate to which they belonged were brought back by force. It was not until the year 1775M an act was passed by which they were declared free, and were putnpopg; the same footing as other servant. ' f Seeking Repoce. “I’m gain to dig out an :0 to do city, aid Meandering Mike. “But don’ t you want to hear do bird- . 1111: an feel de cool breezes in de shady. groves?” inquired [’loddlng Pete. . “Yep. But I m gain to quit an golnio town. where dere ain't nobody goln up Ind down de t’oroughtam tryin to Mr. “‘C" must hands." [TO BE communa] Slavery in England.