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I & |_Scott‘s Emaulsion ‘‘Why didst thou try to fiy Milan with Count Conrad ?‘ he returned. "I was foclish not to spy on thee bhefore." Her grey eyes glinted. "I tried to escape from a life that bas grown intolerable,""‘ she cried, "and I will try yet again !" Visconti smiled. ‘My sister, thou art much too precious ; I shall not let thee go. Thou art worth a great deal to me. Through thee our family will be: united to the Royal House of France. _ My sister, thy husband . "Why has thou s me?‘ she demanded She looked straight towards the window where Visconti sat. Gian returned her gaze, not changing his position. Valentine drew nearer. to overlook; she mightu have been ten years younger than her broâ€" ther; she wasâ€"asâ€"tall and as stateâ€" As Visconti entered, the hall was empty, yet he stepped stealthily, as ifi he felt eyes watching him. Seatâ€" ing himself in the window recess, he waited, and presently, as if at an unuttered ‘summons, the curâ€" tains at the far end of the room were rustled apart, and a lady enâ€" tered.. She was Valentine Visconti, Gian‘s sister. Her dress was of red and brown, embroidered with gold, ber tawny hair piled high under a golden net upon her wellâ€"set head. She had the clear, colorless skin and the wide red lips of the fairâ€" kaired Italians, their rich presence ; she was of a fine carriage, not easy The room was of enormous size, and overawed the gaze. The four large entries, one in each wall, were curtained alike with gloomy purple. The ceiling was domed and of immense height, showing a dim tracery of carved wood, from which hung golden chains, suspending jewelled lamps. The high and narâ€" row windows were wrought with %ainted saints, splendid in coloring. rom domed ceiling to panelled floor the walls were carved with men, women, saints, martyrs, flowâ€" ers and birds wrought together, in simpleâ€"minded joyousness of design,. executed with the delicate. workâ€" manship of Niccolo Pisano‘s school. ‘ Silk arras, hung from carved gold. rods, here and there concealed the carving. A carpet, the work of two ‘ men‘s lives, delicate in purple, brown, and gold, spread across the centre, where a long low table of walnut wood, rich and dark, could. seat two hundred guests. _ Purple, velvet chairs were set about in the corners, and the light streaming. through the colored window saints fell in gold and green across an ivo‘ry footstool, inlaid with jewels. Swiftly as he had come, Vissonti returned to the palace, and the banqueting hall beyond. He stepâ€" ped in silently, and softly let the curtains fall behind him. P b LE SS $ 6 $ 6 4106 4300 1110 4 CE tX 40 â€"t040 41064004 $ 204 SE it 04 5j CHAPTER IV. Iwill be the Duke of Orleans, not a e eteranaies se on n n 2e L4 <.,German fool." C Norp S0â€"NOâ€"HNC t ser es 4 rep 4 Hor 4 1eh p ues 4 rap 4 rey $ h ved 4t 4 any date 4 ies g n ( i d t & Let us sond you c copy of Mr. Budlone‘s letterâ€"â€"his caco fe really wonderfulâ€"â€"and come Interesting Mtcrature regarding our properation. Just sond us a card menâ€" tloning this papor, Be sure to get SCOTT‘S SCOTT & BOWNE 126 Wellington St., W. does ALL it does by creating flesh and strength so rapidly that the progress of the disease is retarded and often stopped. It is a worderful flesh builder and so easy to digest that the youngest child and most delicate adult can take it. If you are losing flesh from consumption or any other cause take Scort‘s Enurston. It will stop the wasting and strengthen the whole system. "I can testify to the great merits of your Emulâ€" sion, especially in all diseases of a pulmonary nature. It has saved many lives that otherwise would have yielded to consumpâ€" tion . .. we keep Scoff‘s Emulsion in the house all the time and all the family use it."â€"MR. C. J. BUDâ€" LONG, Box 158, Washâ€" ington, R. I. The Price of Dishonor ; ALL, DRUGSISTS Or, The Lerd of Veroza‘s Disappointment set spies upon s oronto The three still sheltered in the ruias, to which no owner had reâ€" turred, nor had any signs of life or occupancy broken the silence withâ€" in the villa‘s allâ€"encireling walls. Now, as he watched Vittore out of sightâ€"thse boy looking back often to renew his courageâ€"Francisco‘s bro wwas furrowed, and his eyes heavy with â€" sleeplessness. The stream, clear, deep and sparkling, kere ran darkened with the shadow cf the willows that bent over it their long bluish leaves. A path, thickly bordered with reeds, ran keside the water to the head of the small lake into which the stream flowed, whence it continued, a scarcely discernible footway, toâ€" wards the city. Behind Francisco, separated only| from him by the fosse, was the wall aft the villa, and, Vittore being lost to â€"view, Erancisco â€" withdrew his. gaze, always roaming restlessly in quest of something that should aid him, and glanced along it curiously.| His eyes rested on a green tuft of yellow lichen, brilliant with searlet C He stood on the banks of the water looking moodily towards the city, watching the figure of Vittore, who trudged along the meadowsâ€" his errand to procure provisions. Three days had passed since that futile midnight _ encounter, and Francisco had found no means to enter Milan. "Did they so!_ Then take warnâ€" ing by it, ‘~ andâ€" Clian, â€" coming stealthily still nearer, turned a look on her. Valentine quailed, as Francisco wellâ€"night had done ; the hot words of remorse and rebellion died away unuttered, and she hid ber face, her high spirit cowed again intc a bitter weeping. "They were stricken down at Brescia,‘‘ and Visccenati took a quick step towards her. "They are dead,"‘ she breathed, "and they died as our brothers died, Filipo and Matteoâ€"‘" "Gian!‘‘ she repeated, and stood still gasping, her hand upon her breast. The stiff folds of her dress gleamed richly in the subdued light that fell upon her from the painted vindow.â€" ‘"I know thee for what thou artb," she said ; "there are only two of us left, only two. Where are our parents, Gian l‘ â€" Bhe caught at the arras ; Visconti left her, and reached the door, his figure a shadow among the shadows. Ehe girl rushed forward with a ¢ry. _ â€"‘"‘Gian!"" she called. He paused, his hand upon the curtain, and looked back at her. "‘What becomes of a fool when he crosses the path of a Viscorti?‘ asked her brother calmly. Valentine lifted her head. "He is dead, then?‘ she said. ‘"‘It matters not to thee. Thy husband will be the Duke of Orâ€" leans, and thou are a prisoner in th()?, palace till he takes thee from 1t "A bridegroom who is bought for a hundred thousand florins !‘‘ sneerâ€" ed her brother. ‘"And how will thy appeal reach him? Come, my sisâ€" ter, be calm; the Duke will make as good a husband as Count Conâ€" rad. Bethink thyself, thou mayst live to be crowned Quen of France. Wiltâ€"thou not thaak me then, that I saved thee from a G3rman Count t‘ Valentine fell to weeping. ‘"‘What has become of him?‘‘ she sobbed, "the only human being who ever turned to me in pity. The only one who ever cared for me. What has become of him!? She moved upand down, twisting her hands in an agony of impotence. "I will appeal to the Duke of Orâ€" leans himself !"‘ she cried. "‘Thou canst be carried," said Visconti. â€" "I will not marry the Duke!‘ she cried, "I will not walk up to the altar."‘ _ ; Her anger rose the more as she felt her helplessness. ______ _ But Valentine was also a Visconâ€" 1i1; she advanced with blazing eyes. "If will not marry to serve thy ambitions ; I will rot help to steady thee upon the throne. Mark me, Gian, sooner than wed a Prince whom thou has chosen, I will drag thy name into the mire, and sit in rags at thy palace gates.‘ ____â€" ‘Only thou has not the choice,"‘ he answered pleasantly. & Visconti left her noiselessly CHAPTER V "Devils‘" Messer !"‘_ He crossed hiraself. ‘"God forbid there should be a model for such fourd anyâ€" where,""‘_ he said. ‘"‘¥et methinks thou hast in thy city yonder,"" said Franciseo ~with a bitter smile, ‘‘one who might well sit for the frend himself : Visconti. > Francisco fell again to brooding while the painter chattered on, diâ€" viding his attention between the panel and his daughter, who was wandering up the stream, filling with flowers a flat basket. And seating himself on the bank, he produced from his wallet a panel of wood, polished and carefully planed, upon which he began to draw the outline of a corner of the scene, using a dark brown pigment. "‘Ah, then thou dost not underâ€" stand, ‘ he sarid; ‘‘but I, L amâ€"a painter. Angolo Vistarnini is my name, messer, a student of Taddeo Gaddi.‘‘ He swept off his leathern cap with an air of profound respect. ‘"‘Ah, he could paint! I am far behind him, messer, but I can see! I can see! Which thou canst not,"‘ he added with supsrb pity. "Graziosa,"‘"‘ he called, turning to his daughter, ‘"we will stay here awhile." ‘See!‘‘ he exclaimed. ‘"‘How bright it is !_ See the contrast of the yewâ€"so brilliant, yet so in harâ€" mony, soâ€"you do not paint ?"‘ ‘"‘No,""‘ _said Francisco between grimness and scorn. ‘‘Do I look as it _b â€"did / The enthusiast, however, had no idea of giving up a possible convert, and swept aside the other‘s proâ€" testations while )he commenced pointing out the beauties of the yellow lichen against the villa wall, the sight of which had restored all his good humor. Eooo e t o en daniaet Ccci ko The artist glanced anew at his big frame and tattered attire, and mentally decided bhe did not. _ But the little man, as if he had found a sudden mission, secured the beat, still in silence, stepped ashore helping his daughter to follow him. Francisco, preoccupied and misâ€" trustful, saw this with uneasiness, and would gladly have withdrawn. Moreover, the smiling face of the happy girl was an added sting to a burning thought. The other twisted his mouth in contempt. The girl leaned forward, laughing. __‘‘You forget, father, ‘ she said, ‘"everyone is not a painâ€" ter." "I have not been used to judge lands by their beauty,""‘ returned Francisco. ‘‘Yet methinks I have seen spots as beautiful and easier to hold in time of need." He paddled the boat nearer amongst the reeds in his ecagerness to obtain new sympathy. =~> CA stranger? Ah, then, this is new to theeâ€"this most beautiful part of Italy. I assure thee," he continued excitediy, ‘"I have been through the fairest parts of Tusâ€" cany, I have wandered about Napâ€" les, but never have I seen such colâ€" ors, such lights as here!‘‘ _ Again he waved his allâ€"inclusive hand. «‘Thou, messer, as a stranger, must see how wonderfully fair it is ?!" The boat rocked now alongside the path, and Frarcisco courteousâ€" ly approached. "I am a stranger here,"‘ he said. The other glanced at him anew, and with the awakening of a little friendly wonder. "Goodâ€"day, messer,‘‘ he called. "So thou hast found our secret haunt. Graziosa and I had thought this place our own,‘"‘ and as he spoke he waved his hand round him at the water. Coming abreast of Francisco, the man paused on his oars with a frendly greeting. § _ The rower was a darkâ€"haired man of middle age, clothed in a plain brown robe. Lean and vivacious, eagerâ€"eyed, he appeared one of those people who are always talkâ€" ing and moving; even seated and rowing he gavys the impression of restlessness; of the good humor common to the people too. _ His companion was a young girl dressâ€" e 1 in a simple blue gown. She was e delicate blonde, very young, very slender ; the curls of her amber hair were blown across a round, dimpled. face; eyes of a dancing blue ; a sweet small mouth curled in laughâ€" ter, a fine chin and throat, a slack young figure. This was her prinâ€" cipal characteristic, the floating yellow hair like a veil about her. flowers at his feet, then, with a bitâ€" ter curse at his folly, threw himâ€" self upon the gzass to watch for Vibtore‘s return, and ponder, for ever ponder, on his purpose. Sudâ€" denly there shot into sight upon the stream a littls boat, with high curâ€" ling prow and gaily painted sides. A blue sail was furled above it, and it was impelled lightly forward by a delicate pair of oars. The grounds of the villa formed a promontory, and coming round the brow of it the boat broke ubpon his gaze and was within hail a‘ one and the same moment. It came rapidly nearer, and the stranger‘s first impulse was to hide himself from these unexpecâ€" ted and unwelcome intruders; but there was no time; as he rose he was observed, but the genial handâ€" wave and the merry laughter reâ€" assured him. . These were simple pleasureâ€"seekers. He reseated himâ€" self, and the boat came on. ‘ Graziosa looked up with spark ling eyes. "Thy betrothed," he murmured, interested a moment in the happiâ€" ness that was such a contrast to his own feeling. ‘"‘And does he pant tool"~ ~ Francisco would. searcely_ have heeded the speaker‘s words, save that his glance was caught almost involuntarily by _ the girl‘s sweet blush at mention of her lover‘s name. â€"He took some as he spoke, and began grz‘angxng't;‘hem in wreaths. "‘For my pictures,‘"‘ said the painâ€" ter, pointing to them.. ‘I am paintâ€" ing an altarâ€"pieceâ€"for the lunetâ€" tes. I shall have Graziosa as St. Katherine, and Ambrogio (her beâ€" trothed, messer) as St. Michael. These fowers will make the borâ€" der." â€" ‘‘And his life!"‘ replied the painâ€" ter. ‘‘Ah, well, these things are grievous! The saints protect my daughter from all share in them,"‘ and he glanced affectionately toâ€" wards Graziosa, returning through the greyâ€"green willows with lilies in her hands. "‘Failure! Who would not have {ailed ?‘ said Agnolo gently, for he thought he spoke to one who must have lost his all in the sacked town. "I know little of such things, but ‘twas here and there asserted he fell by craft as well as force, and he was a great soldier and an honâ€" orable man, Messer Francisco." "He had all the virtues, doubtâ€" less,""‘ said Francisco, ‘"‘and lost Verona." ‘"‘Ah, well,‘"‘ he continued in a deprecating tone, ‘‘a splendid sight truly, and one to fire the blood, but I am a man of peace, and I greatly grieve Della Scala should have perished. _ He was a noble prinee." . The stranger rose abruptly. "Do not speak of Della Scala," he said harshly. "I love to hear his name as little as Visconti‘s His was a crime of failure." But Francisco offered no reâ€" sponse. His face was turned away, and his hands were clenched. The little painter had a vague sense of lhaving allowed a mere artist‘s enâ€" thusiasm to carry him too far into a dangerous theme. 2: Scala‘s. _ Meanwhile a mob, with Napoleon della Torre at their head, begins to agitate, to threaten riot. With a strong hand Alberic puts them downâ€"the streets are cleared, Graziosa and I on the balcony, all is dark, silent, save now and then the clink of the urmor of the senâ€" tries on the walls. I am too excitâ€" ed for sleep, messer, all so hushed, so subdued, waiting, waiting. All alt ouce it comes. Oh, the rattle, the roar! _ The great gates clatter back, the streets fill with crowds no man can keep back. The vicâ€" torious army pelts through them; two men on every horse, great flarâ€" ing torches throwing their yellow light on the torn banners and the wild faces of the soldiers, and then the cannon, leaping over the rough stones, drawn by the smokeâ€"blackâ€" ened gunners, all tearing, rushing through the street, a mass of light and shade, wonderful, wonderful!‘ In the midst, the Visconti, the ragâ€" ged light streaming over his tatterâ€" ed armor, and Isotta d‘ Este guardâ€" ed between two soldiers, swaying on ber black horse, and above all the shouts of the frenzied triumph of the Milanese. . . . Ah !" | Agnolo paused now for want of breath, and glanced at his compan-‘ ilon. | ‘‘Ah, and what a night that was,"" 'he cried, "‘when the Duke reâ€"enâ€" tered Milan with them! Since I do not hurt thee by the recollection, messer, let me tell thee, it was a splendid sight, that night the Duke returned. I live a quiet life, as an artist may do, even in Milan. I know little, I care little for the _wars of princes,. They tell me that the Visconti‘s crimes outnumber the stars ; but, messer, his shadow has not fallen across my house, and what one does not see one does not fearâ€"but when he returned from Verona! that was a sight, messer. It was late. Our house overlooks the wesetern gates, and all day long the messengers had come and sped, bringing the news the Duke was here. Towards evening â€" we. leaning from the window as did evâ€" eryoneâ€"Alberic da Salluzzo comes galloping to the wallsâ€"redâ€"hot upâ€" on some report that the Visconti has been slainâ€"to look to the armâ€" ing of the citizens. Even as we strain from the window, following the flash of his plumesâ€"back he comes in madder hasteâ€"the Visconâ€" ti is alive!_ The people shout and yell, and some cry ‘tis not the Visâ€" conti‘s army on the road, but Della[ These words were inscrutable, and the little painter did not even try to understand them; but they kindled a memory that would not be repressed. "In the sack of Verroinrav,w per haps ?" asked Angolo after a pause ‘"‘The sack of Verona was three months ago. The prisoners have beea in Milan twenty days!‘ ‘‘But thou askest for my name," continued the other. ""I am Franâ€" cisco di Coldra, one who has sufâ€" fered much from the Visconti." ‘The Duke? Ah, my friend, hush, hush, thou art a stranger, take care! Even in this lonely spot such words are far from safe. Who art thou, m=sser, who dost not live in Milan and yet speak with such a look of the Visconti?" "Do not all who know the Visconâ€" ti speak with such a look of him ?‘ The painter gazed at him in si lence. _â€"<"Yes, messer, I had not enough They said that it was Veronese."" ‘‘Nothing new to them in Milan rowâ€"the money of the Veronese," said Francisco, with a flashing glance towards the ramparts. "*All is quict. One of the soldiâ€" ers snatched a leek from me, anâ€" other bade me tell my sister he was still unwed. They jested finely, but I should not like them to have turnâ€" ed to questioning me. They were so many, and so finely armed." ‘And the money? Didst thou need to change the pieces that I gave thee?" 2i > ‘ He approached, and thrusting his ‘hand in amongst the great tufts, touched the rusty iron of a disused bolt. There was a door here, then, that led into the grounds of the deâ€" serted villa ! Francisco‘s heart beat strongly. From the finding of the silver gobâ€" let in the ruined hut, he had assoâ€" ciated with the Visconti‘s name the darkened dwelling and its silent grounds. There was none to quesâ€" tion, for there was none of whom they dared inquire; but more than once Francisco had thought of tryâ€" ing to enforce an entrance, only to find, however, that by whomsoever abandoned, ingress to the villa had been left. wellâ€"night impossible. But bere was an entrance that had been everlooked, and it was not to be wondered at, for the rusty bolf could have been discerned only by eyes as keen as his, and the door, belonging was completely hidden by closeâ€"growing ivy, too frail to climb by, but the most effectual of all concealments. Tearing up the lichen from its roots, Francisco set to work upon the ivy. The delicate, ropeâ€"like strands clung with their‘ black filaments like fingers bewitch-| ed, and little had been accomplishâ€", ed when Francisco, taking cautious survey around him, saw Vittore reâ€", turning across the meadows. Con-f cealing what he was about, Franâ€" cisco waited till the lad came up,' flushed and triumphant from a sucâ€" cessful errand. | ‘‘What news going in the city!‘ asked Francisco. Suddenly his eyes rested again on the great clump of yellow lichen, and he stopped, arrested. Raging in the pain of rekindled memory and present helplessness, Francisco paced to and fro, waiting for Vittore‘s figure in the distance. In the midst of it he had seen something that interested him, something very much its color, but rot quite its kind. Could these folk have been of serâ€" vice? They were of a sort unknown to him; courtiers, soldiers, burghâ€" ers, merchants, with all such he was at home, but these plebeians of kindly natures and good speech, of humble rank and careless happiâ€" ness, were new to him. The painâ€" ter‘s talk of his craft had no meanâ€" ing for Francisco, it had passed from his mind for craziness ; but the girl had said they dwell near the western gateâ€"could they perchance kave been of service?~ But presentâ€" ly he dismissed the notion; they were too simple for his purpose. Graziosa drew her blue cloth hood about her srailing face, and, with gentle strokes from the painâ€" ter‘s paddle, the boat disappeared. When Francisco found himself alone again, momentary misgiving seized him that he had lost an opâ€" portunity. "I will remember it," said Franâ€" cisco simply.. "Gladly would we offer our poor bospitality, messer,"‘ he said, "only the gates are sternly barred to any stranger. .â€"..."‘ But CGUraziosa, glancâ€" ing also at the strong, commanding figure, and at the stern set face, checked her father‘s impulse. ‘We are too humble, father," she said gently, "but if there were any service we could render, any messageâ€"â€"1 We live at the sign of Lo Sceudo, the armourer‘s, near to the western gate." The painter grasped the oars and pushed out into the stream : ‘"‘Goodâ€" bye,"" he called, and Graziosa wayâ€" ed a hand; then something in the, stranger‘s aspect made the little| painter pause again. ’ "I am very happy,""‘ she laughed softly, "so never mind whether he paint the best or the second best in Ttaly. ‘"‘They told me ‘twas no longer ‘‘Say rather that his altarâ€"picce draws him away from thes,"" laughâ€" ed the painter, ‘"and thou wilt be nearer to the truth. The altarâ€" piece has all his time; thou but a few meagre hours a week! Still, they love each other, messer, and are happy, so we nover care wheâ€" ther Ambrogio paint well or ill.‘‘ Graziosa seated herself under the blue sail, and looked up with raâ€" diant eyes. Thouw must not listen to her,"‘ he said. ‘‘She overrates his paintâ€" ing. _ He paints well, truly, but cold"! ah, so.jcold; no spirit in it ! He will sit for hours thinking how the fold of a robe should fall. 1I, however, have seen Taddeo Gaddi paint! The angels would seem to flow from his brush as if he gave no thought to them !‘‘ But Graziosa turned a smiling face from the boat she was unmooring. ‘His altarâ€"piece will draw all Lombardy,""‘ she cried: ‘‘Beautifully,"‘ she said eagerly. "He is at work now in the Church o{ San‘ Apollinare in Brescia. We have not seen his painting, the journey is too long; but some of the panel bits he has shown us, and they are _ noble." Francisco smiled faintly cutspokenness, and _ her laughed goodâ€"humoredly. at her father i The boy went on obediently. These two days with his rescuer had ~taught him and Tomaso. both that ‘ what Francisco said hs meant, and ‘his word was their law already. JPut Francisco needed stronger alâ€" ies. |_â€"With some halfâ€"formed thought the villa might conceal one, he now | returned to his attack upon the ivy, and after many a wrench and cut and struggle, the garden door stood bare enough to use. It was stained", | discolored, locked and immovable. Japan‘s Fighting Fleet fore the Empe A despatch from K says: The fighting flee comprising 110 vessels, submarines, passed in fore the Emperor ond The weather was peI occasion was one long bered. Notwithstandi plague scare, the Em attendants arrived at as 9 o‘clock in the m his way to the harbor through streets crow, thousands and rend by magnificent deco honor. ward in the direction 1 knew the villa lay. j (To be Continut He was in a_ garde beauty. The yewâ€"tree shaded a patch of ve‘l starred with daisies. B straight path led to a 1 and a belt of cypressâ€"trq The ringâ€"doves cooed the flowering trees stn was no other sound save one of_ faintly plash Treading softly, Franci After many a cantious glance along the meadow path, fortunately for his purpose lifttle used, he reâ€" placed the loose strands of ivy as far as h> was able, and slipping through, pushed the door back into its place, filling up the broken l h with green. fl But this was nothing toâ€" Francisâ€" co; with knife and dagger he cut the woodwork round the lock, reâ€" moved it, and thrusting his hand and arm well through the breachy with no great difficulty withdrew the upper and lower bolts. With knee and shoulder then he pressed inâ€" wards, driving against the weeds and growths that choked it, and presently had forced an aperture that would admit him. ‘‘Well, thou has faced the soldiâ€" ers and the market now,"" he said aloud, "and art safe for other jourâ€" neys, as I promised thee. Go on to the hut, and give thyself food, and Tomaso. Keep close and anâ€" swer none. I will be with thee preâ€" sently." a i taken,; that the Duke was having it recast. But a bystander reached forwards, and gave me a piece of Milanese. He said that he would keep my piece; it bore the Della Scala arms, he said, and was a curiosity." +0 Francisco _ muttered something that the lad did not catch. ‘About three years ago I was inâ€" duced by a confrere in office to try Peruna. ‘After some hesitation, as I had doubts as to results after so many failures, I gave Peruna a trial, and am happy to state that after using eight or ten bottles of Peruna I am much improved in hearing, and in breathing through the nostrils." REYIEWED BY THE "I have been under the, trea ment of specialists and have usct' mary drugs recommended as speciâ€" fies for catarch in the head and throatâ€"all to no purposc. ‘"‘This was contracted ty years ago by being draughts and _ sudden temperature. "I have been afflicted with nasal catarrh to such a degree that it afâ€" I‘Cg"t’ggl_ my hearing. Mr. R.J, Arless, 401 City Hall Ave., Montreal, Quebec, is an old gentleman of wide acquaintance, having served Shirtyâ€"eight years in the General Postâ€" office of Montreal, & record which tpeaks foritself. Concerning his use of Porung, see letter given below. : Cerosssfoes. fs NASAL CATARRA PRODUCES DEAFNESS RELIEF IN PEâ€"RUâ€"NA Cesesesisess. ifeceoeececss ho oo on enaae some twenâ€" exposed to changes_ of