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grating lumber ing his :1! Finger ‘nfine for soml as 8.thng g saw; den. __ v- cufis in the public streetâ€"yet there was Something splendid in his v16- tory, , To Jessica, standing with hands ose clapsed, the music seemed the 213011? of remorse for a past fall, the Cf? of a forlorn soul, knowing it‘ N '39” cast out, appealing to its good {‘1ng for pity and pardon. .11 1%” FM ”ten played to ner lightly. (‘39 1358133 as he did all things. She had: deemed it only one of his many clever amateurish accomplishments. Now it struck her with a pang that there (1 been in her a deeper side that 81:18 had not touched. Since her wed- fimg (16.1? :h; +1.-.._LL . . ..- c1 '1’. Now 1 n accomplishmezt: there u..C US a Sguckuher with a pang t side that had been in her a (imagine? her wed‘ She had not touched. 1n wed-ding ding 6.21? She thought»of her - ge‘fis day she thought of her :1th 1111815 false a loathed bond, from W 1 pretense 9. NOW had absolved her. . , ed f her own positi‘flla dri- 0 fl her. Had loneliness and 0“ " unâ€" ' ' From the balcony Jessica had wit- nessed the fight without understand- ing its meaning. A fascinatlon she could not gainsay Had glued her eyes t0 the struggle. It was heâ€"it was the face she knew, seen but once for a single moment in the hour of her mm'I'iatge, but stamped indelibly upon i191” memory. It was no longer the Smooth shaveâ€"n, and it was changed, ”in? Changed, but it was the same. T here was recklessness and mockery in it. and yet strength, not weak- 11933. Shunned and despised as he might beâ€"the chief actor, as it seemed to her, in a desperate bar- r00m afiair, a coarse affair of 'fisti- 91138 in the public streetâ€"yet there “35 Something splendid in his vic- The player himself could not have told him. He was in a kind of 8 j tranced dream. The self made music ’ was calling with a sweet insistence to buried things that were stirring from a long sleep. It send a gulp in- to the throat of more than one left standing, moveless in the street. It brought a suspicious moisture to Tom Fielder’s eyes. It drew Mrs. H-al- loran from the kitchen, wiping her hands on her apron. It called to a” girl who crouched in the upper hall. With her miserable face buried in her hands, drew her down the stairs, to the ofice door, her eyes wide with a breathless wonderfli er face glisten- ing With feeling. was mung. His glance. scanning the room. set itself on a §h8bby, clear background apologetic. yet keenly and pridefully interested. A whimsic- 631 light was in his eye. [He crossed m him, and reaching out his arm, drew the Violin from under his arm. "Music hath charms to soothe the savage breast,” he said, and, open. mg the door, he tucked the instru- ment under his chin and began to play. What absolute contempt of danger, what insane prompting possed,, can scarcely be imagined. Fielder looked for a quick end to the folly, but he saw the men on the street, even as they moved forward, waver and pause. With almost the first note it had calm to them that they were hearing music such as the squeaking fiddles of the dance halls never knew. Those on the opposite pavement crossed over. and men far down the street stood still to listen. trim ahnost instantly beyond its bounds. He had never been an in- diflerent performer. Now he was playing as he had never played in' his life, with inspiration and aban- don. There was a diabolism in it. He had :orgotten the fight, the crowd, his own mocking mood. He ' had forgotten where he was. He was afloat on a fluctnant tide of melody that was carrying him back, back, into the far away past. towards all that he had loved and lost. “It’s ‘Home Sweet Home,’ ” said Barney McGinn; “No, it’s 'Annie lame: No. it'sâ€"hanged if I know 9” what it is: Street stood still to listen. More than the adept’s cunning that had at first tzngled his fingers at sight of the instrument was in Bar 8y Sanderson 5 playing The violin had been the single passion which the old Satan Sanderson had car- ried with him into the new career. The impukse to soothe the savage breast had been a flare of the old character he had been relieving, but the music, begun in bravado swept into the I Shunned unwed even in this rough “1'38 Which she, had she '1 t0 her vow, for better “3» might have turned to ion? God forgave, but she FRIDAY. and outlawry dri- JAN. 28th, ’10,. cal weakness, to sit in the half light listening to the diminishing noises of the spilling crowd. She was wind swept, storm tossed in the grip of primal emotions. The surprise had shocked her, and the strange appeal of the violin had disturbed her equi- poise. The significant words of awakening Spoken in the ofice, .had come to her distinctly. In their fight she had}? but: UiJL LuSLLCJ-u Lbcyuuaavau, The b -wa “ t’e , d ed.. , . Y Y wab S ep an rugg ' door bzhm-d hrm, set Ofi down the that during the present year near- and rhododendron clumps caught at. . trail t - her ankles, and once she heard a l 0 the town, Where a faro 1y $8,000 has been paid out of the state treasury to farmers whose 2 ba k ' ' i ' snake slip over the dry rustle of ' ha: gifrzznhiincqmred the blll Jessma . ‘crops have been damaged by these u U V VHU vuuuhv, uuu vbvubub vuv lllcub U1 ! ..... leaves, bl“? she went on rapidly, To be continue! turning back now and? then! anxiously ’ _+_______ gprotected animals, and that a. large to urge 1:59 horse {-0 greater speed. number of claims were still to come scarcely‘ heard the ofiensivelY' DIED in. In one township alone $487 has Slie honeyed compliimnt‘s which Prender: gast‘ afiered tb‘h‘ei- courage. It seemed an‘etermty’tfiey climbedi. BELLâ€"At Mnelou Falls, on Friday been paid Out to claimants. the am. J an. 14th. 1910, John Bell, aged 83 ount for the difierent townships run- years and 10" mum. . ning from that down to about 35. CHAPTER 14. The scene in the hotel office had left Jessica in a state of mental dis- traction, in which man was in abeyance, In the confusion she had elipped into the sitting room unnot- iced, feeling a sense of almost physiâ€" cal weakness, to sit in the half light listening to the diminishing noises of the spilling crowd. She was wind‘ swept, storm tossed in the grip of primal emotions. The surprise had shocked her, and the strange appeal" of the violin had disturbed her equi- Harry stooped and picked up his hat and as he put it on again, turn- ed a moment toward the crowd. Then he walked on down the middle of the street, his eyes glaring, his face white into the dusky blue of the falling twi- light. Tom Fileder had seen the flying missile, and he leaped _to~the centre of the street with rage in his heart. “If I find out who threw that I’ll send him up for it, so help me God,” he cried. As he turned _down .the street a fra- ment of quartz, thrown with delib- erate and venomous aim flew from the saloon doorway. It grazed his head,k nocking ifi his hat. He turned quietly and walked out of the door. Pavement and street were a hubbub of excited talk. The groups parted as he came out and he passed between them with eyes straight forward. “When I entered this town to-day I did not know my name or that I had ever set foot in it before. I was struck by a train a month ago and remember nothing beyond that time. It seems that the town knows me better than I know myself.” Harry had turned very white, With the spoken nameâ€"a name how famil- iar!-â€"his eyes had fallen to the ring on his fingerâ€"the ring with the iniâ€" tials, H.S. A sudden comprehension had darted to his mind. ‘A core of circumstances that seemed odd now stood out in a 'baleful light. The looks of dislike in the barroom, the attitude of the street, this angry diatribe, all smacked of acquaintance and not alone acquaintance, but oh- ioquy. His name was Hugh Stires! He belonged to this very town!‘ He was a man hated despised, forbidden entrance to an uncouth hostelry, an unwelcome visitant even in a bar- room. He turned to Fielder, and said in a low voice to him, not to the hotel keeper or to the roomful. here! ” gast, and the other riflrafi h'e's run with the year past!" He turned blank 1y to Harry. “Take yourself from this house, Hugh Stires!” he said. “Whether all’s :true that’s said of you I don't say, but you’ll. not come “Play!" he exclaimed. “Let him go fiddle to his side partner-“Prender- he had neither seen the fracas nor heard the playing. He saw instantly, however, that somethinglunusual was forward, and blinking on the thresh- old, caught sight of the man who was handing *back the violin to its owner. He clinched his fist with a scowl, and started toward him. His wife caught his arm. “Oh, Michael, Michael!" she cried. “Say nothing, lad! Ye should have heard him- play! ” The music faltered and broke ofi. The bow dropped at his feet. He picked it up fumblingly and turned back. into the ofiice as a man entered from a rear door. The newcomer was Michael Halloran, the hotel’s proprietor of the hotel, short, thick- set and surly. Asleep in his room, a sense of shock, became conscious of the gaping crowd, the dusty street, the red sunset, and of himself at the end of a vulgar brawl sawing a violin in silly braggadocio in a hotel door- For Harry Sanderson the music was the imprisoned memory, crying out strongly in the first tongue it had found. The slumbering qualities that had stirred uneasily at sight of the face on the balcony awoke. Who he was and what he had been he knew no more than before, but the new writhing self censciousness, starting from its sleep with almost had not forgiven. Smarting tears started to her eyelids ed it While Jessica, led the way. “Here is the cutofi,” he said pres- ently. “Ah, you know it,” for she had turn-ed into the side path that led alang the hill, under the gray, snake like flumveâ€"t‘he shortest route to the grassy shelf on Uh‘ich the cab- in- st00d. With ‘her aid, he lifted the swaying figure on to the saddle, and support- ed it While Jessica. led the way. “Here is the cutofi,” he said pres- “Lift him on my horse,” she said. She stooped and put her hands under the twitching shoulders. “I will help you. I‘ am quite strong.” “His cabin,” he corrected. “A very rough place, but it has sheltered us both. I am but guide, philosopher, and friend.” There flashed through her mind the phrase of the su'rly hotelkeeper, “His side partner, Prendergast!” Could it be? Had Hugh really lived in the cabin on which she had so often peered dov'irn during those past weeks 2 And with this chosen crony ? She touched Prendergast's arm. He is ill, I say,” she repeated. “He must be cared for at once. Your cabin is on the hillsdie, risn’t it ?” “Know him!” he echoed, and then laughedâ€"a di‘y, cackling laugh. “I ought to. And I 'guess he knows me.‘ He shook the inert arm “Get up, H‘ugh!” he said, “it’s Prendergast.” “He is not intoxicated,” she said, coldly, “he is ill. You know him, then ?” Jessica remembered the yellow, smirky face now. She had passed him on the day that Tom Fielder had walked with her from the Mountain Valley house, and the lawyer had told her that he lived in the cabin just below the knob. where she so often sat. She felt a quiver of re- pulsion. He bent over the form she showed him. ‘ “It’s Stires,” he said, with a chuckle. “I heard h'e’d coine back. ” The chuckle turned to a. cough,, and he shook his head. ”This is sad. You never could believe how I have labor- ed with the boy, 'but”â€"â€"he« turned out his handsâ€"“you see, there is the temptation. It is his unhappy weak- ness.” All at once the horse shied violent- ly, almost unseating her. A man was lying 'by the side of the road and tossing and muttering to himself. She forced the unwxlling animal closer, and leaning from the saddle, saw who it was. In a moment she was ofl and beside the prostrate form, a spasm of dread clutching at her throat at sight of the 'nerveless limbs, the chalky palor of the brow, the fever spots in the cheeks. A wave of pity swept over her. He was ill and alone. He could notbe left there. He must have shelter. She looked fearfully about her. What could she do ‘? In that town, whose tolerance and dislike she had seen so actively demonstrated, was there no one who would Care for him ? She turned her head, listened to a nearing soundâ€"footsteps were plod- ding up the road. She called, and presently a pedestrian emerged from the half dark and came towards her. As she spurred through the trans- ient twi-light, past the selvage of the town, and, into the somber mountain slope, she struck her horse sharply with her crop. He who had entrapped her, who had married her under the shadow of a. criminal act, who had broken her future with his, when his whole bright life was crushed down in black ruinâ€"could such a one look as he had looked at her? Could he inake such music that wrung her heart ? â€"all of it, its crime, its penalty. In forgetting the past he had' forgotten even her, his wife. Yet in some mys- terious way her face had been famil- iar to him. It had touched for an instant the spring of the hefoggled memory. read the piteous appeal of that gaze that had held her motionless on the balcony. Hugh had forgotten the past THE LINDSAY POST “Your deal,” he said. Then, with a vague laugh, he fell sidewa‘ise up- on the bunk. August Prendergâ€"ast stared at him with a look of amazement on yellow face. “He’s crazy as a chick- en,” he said. “I guess you’ll do without any pain killer” he said to himself. “The doctors are expensive. Anyway, I’ll be back by midnight.” He threw more wood on the fire, blew out the candle, and closing the door behind him, set ofi down the trail to the town, where a fare bank soon acquired the bill Jessica. had given him. To be continual. +____.___ DIED his : W “Kl K U‘El’ 0| 5 a Nuisance 5 Deer have been so carefully pro- tected in Massachusetts for s65; time past, that they have become the cause of serious damage to farmers’ crops. How serious the damage is will be understood from the state- Springiield Republican, that during the present year near- ly $8,000 has been paid out of the state treasury to farmers whose ’crops have been damaged by these :protected animals, and that a large number of claims were still to come in. In one township alone $487 has ment of the “I guess you’ll do without any pain zkiller” he said to himself. “"l‘he doctors are expensive. Anyway, I’ll be back by midnight.” § “I heard about the row,” went on iPrendergast. “They didn't think it was'in you, and neither did I.” He looked- at him cunn'ngly. “Neither did Moreau, eh, eh ? You’re a clever one, Hugh, but the lost memory ra- cket won’t stand you in anything. You hadn’t any call to get scared in the first place. I don’t tell all I t know.” I He shoved the Candle nearer on the table. “There’s a queer look in your gface, Hug ," he said, with a clumsy attempt at kindness. “That rock they threw must have hurt you. Feel sort of dizzy, eh? Never mind. I’ll show you a sight for sore eyes. You went off without your share of the last ‘swag, but I’Ve saved it for you. lPrendergast wouldn't clcat a Pal.” ‘ The man addressed made no ans-l 1 wer. His eyes were on the other, in- ‘ dustrious and bewildered. He lurched to his feet, overturning the table. The gold dust rattled t0 the floor. contained a quantity of gold dust, and small nuggets, which be poured into a miner's scales on the table, and proceeded to divide into two portions. This accomplished, he emp- tied one of the portions on to a paper and pushed it out. “That’s yours,” he said. Harry’s eyes were on his with a! piercing intensity now. ‘as' though they looked through him to a vast distance beyond. He was staring through a gray mist- at something far ofi, but significant, that eluded his direct vision. The board table, the yellow 'gold, the flickering candle- light, recalling something horrifying, ing the cousulship of Mayor W. H, Howland. Previous to his association with Mr. Manning, Mr. Macdonald and a brother carried on the business of ,railway contractors from 1870 until 11887., The company with which the * de- ceased was identified, constructed the Midland division of the'G.T.R. to Campbellford, the Fenelon Falls section of the Trent Valley Canal, and the work on this waterway in course of completion at Rosedale. The late Mr. Macdonald, was well known in Lindsay and district and in some other world, in some other the news of his demise was received life, millions of ages ago.. mi +h mac-vhf. From a crany in the clay chinked wall he took a chama‘s skin bag.- It contained a. quantity of gold dust, In reality Wit was scarcely twenty yminutes before they reached the ‘ grassy knoll and the cabin, whose " crazy, sv‘vinging- door stood wide to ’ the night air. ' She tied the horse, 'went in, and at Prendergast’s direc- .tions found matches and a candle. The bare- two Doomed interior it re- vealed was unkempt and disordered. Rough bunks, a table, ands; couple .of hewn chairs were almost its only ffurniture. The window was broken, E and the roof admitted sun and rain. 'Prenderg‘ast laid the man they had !brought on one of the bunks, and ‘ threw over him a shabby 'blanket. “That’s right," the older man said. “You're coming round. How does it feel to be back in the old shebang ? Can’t guess how you got here, can you ? You were towed on horseback by a beauty, Hughie, my boyâ€"a rip, staving beauty! I’ll tell you about it in- the morning if you’re good.” She gave the horse the rein as she spoke and turned‘ him up the steep path that climbed back 01 the cabin, past the knob, land‘so 'by a narrow trail to the mountain road. August Prendergast stood listening to the dulling hoof beats amoment, then re-entered the cabin. The man on the bunk had lifted to a sitting position. His eyes were open, dazed and staring. He untied her horse and extended a hand, but she mounted without his help. “He will thank you one day, this friend of mine,” he said, “far better than I can do.” “It is not at all necessary to tell him,’-’ she replied frigidly. “The sick are always to be helped in every cir- cumstance.” The yellow eyes fastened on the bill, even while his gesture protested. “You shame me!” he exclaimed. “And yet you are right. It is for him.” he folded it and put it into his pocket. “As 3001; as I have built a fire I will go for the local medico. He will not always come at the call of the luckless miner. All are not so charitable as you.” “My, dear young lady,” he Said “you are a good Samaritan. How shall we thank you, my p00r friend beta and I?” Jessica had taken whoney from her pocket, and now she held it out to him. “He must have a? doctor,” she said. “You must fetch one.” K ‘ The annual meeting of St. Andrew's ' church was held in the school room 9 3011 Wednesday evening and was large- ly attended. At the meeting the {board of managers elected were: â€"- 'Mrs. A. McNabb, Jas. W. Anderson, J. D. Smith, J. A. Williamson, J. P. Donald, A. B. McIntyre and \K. G. 'Dunoon. The financial statement was read by Mr. J. P. Donald and adopted. I Mr. J. A. Williamson presented "the report of the managing commit~ tee, and Mr. J. D. Smith read the reports of the difierent societies. in connection with the church. 1 g 3 Where Deer are a Nuisance The late Mr. Macddnald, was well known in Lindsay and district and the news of his demise was received with regret. The éompany with which the N de-§ ceased was identified, constructed." the Midland division of the'G.T.R. to Campbellford, the Fenelon Falls ' section of the Trent Valley Canal, and the work on this waterway in: course of completion at Rosedale. I ‘ , U _â€"â€"v-â€"' vvâ€"â€"_-v 5 from the shoes. The more he danced - and kicked and swore. the more the railroad and financial 01113183 in To- : shoes hurt him. Finally, after he had ronto, and throughout Canada, gone throubh fearful agonyfi he tore died suddenly at his residence, Rnsh- them 011 and threw them away. From olme road, this morning at 8 0'- that time forward, whenever he saw 3a horseshoe, he would run ofi, anx- ious to get out of the way. The Ger- man peasantry believe this story, RANDOLPH MACDONALD Randolph Macdonald, well known in clock. Mr. Macdonald is best remembered as a partner with the late Alexander because one can scarcely find Manning in th'e contract for the ; doorstep or a barn door that ha straightening of the River Don dur- Isa 11013951109 nailed “P- St. Andrew’s Annual Meeting Edison Phonographs $16.50 to $240.00 Edison Amberol Records (play twice as long)‘ .65 Edison Standard Records - - .40 Edison Grand Opera Records - . .85 and 1.25 There are Edison dealers everywhere. Go to the nearest and hear the Edison Phonozraph play both Edison Standard and Amberol Records. Get complete catalogs from your dealer or from us. ; . Only on Ambero} Records can you get a full length rendering of these great arias-and only on the Edison Phonograph do you get Amberol Records. Hear these great Slmk Records at any Edison dealer’s today. Slezalt has made ten records for the Edison, comprising the principal tenor songs from the more prominent roles of his repertoire --so that, while the New York opera goer pays $5.00 a seat to hear Slezak in one opera, with the Edison Phonograph and Amberol Records you get Slezak lat his best ‘in his ten best roles, including Otello, Lohengrin, Tannhauser, Rhadames in Aida and Rodolfo in La Boheme. Leo Slezak, the great moor, now sings for you in the Edison Phonograph the same famous arias from the Grand Operas that the New York audiences pay $5.00 a seat to hear. Just how great a singer Slezak is, is told in- the following remark, quoted from the New York World the morning after a recent appearance of Slezak at the Metropolitan Opera.- House: “Caruso now has a rival.” Pinion-l 1’th Co.. 100 Lakeside Avenue. Obituary ’on dur« (- w. H. with â€"- “a“ gThe Fable of :1 the "01'9“th Do you know the}? about thefiorsesnoee? times in 2. mt? smith was hardv erman fable . In the olden .- village, a black- at work. The sound attracted the attention ie saw the smith making horseshoe .s, and thought it a good idea V) get his own hoofs shod. So "the 'r'evil oneystruck a bargain V and PV’ c up his foot. The blacksmith saw " with whom he was dealing. and nailed a red hot shoe on driving the nails square into the devil's foot. of the anvil ' of Satan. Y GAHBIHOGE - 87.. SOUTH OF MASKET, lllDSRY The visitor. plaid him and left. but the honest blacksmith threw the \m03 may in the fire: he knew it would bring him had luck. Meanwhile the devil had walked some distance and began to sufier the greatest torture from the shoes. The more he danced and kicked and swore. the more the shoes hurt him. Finally, after he had gone throubh fearful agonyfi he tore J. B‘ BRUCE We also har‘dBe a full line of Wool and Plush Rugs, Curry Combs and Brushes, Whips, Sweat Pads and all horse supplies That J. B Emma’s is the piace i0 leave vn-ur crdm‘ H ARNESS f or Spring. PAGE 13 SENGLE