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is z l + 4 is B hy mâ€" NS nt + the ad iat °0 zot 1 CS at rn. in= ocd in i on »at ist ilt= ney edl, uld nad fiss ally ery. LWO ritâ€" y iB relal aro eath nade of | the ecpe= time igh D= iized 1G= the unts oney Mr. ke ulâ€" tes & NCl= «he The he he he ade der it ty, SU= reâ€" to Â¥ > Mr. mac is on Mr. the i1 to wn has n:°8 )@â€" ‘ort will to rw is aAn his He As has boeen stated before, Anne ONsil‘s dutics and occupations are of an extr mely various and onerous The post of nurse and ~duenna to Miss Deane, at Darragh Castle, has seen added to them of late, and pleasâ€" ant a sinccure as it is possible she may find this post, with the gentle girl who welcomes her cold companâ€" lonship with loving cordiality, that it is a trying ono to her health and spirits no one who saw Anne O‘Neil, as sho returns to Mount Ossory on the fo‘llowing afternoon, would be I‘keiy to deny. Â¥ # on a Cinnerâ€"dress of Lady Damer‘s, which <he is to wear that evening, anmd which requires alteration. It is there ready for her on the table In hor workâ€"roomâ€"a small room adâ€" Joining her ladyship‘s dressiangâ€"room "I{ yeh plase, miss, Miss O‘Naile‘s come from Mount Ossory a bit ago," Noely says, keeping well out of sight, &n i talk n# around the edgo of the hallâ€"open door in tones of suspiciousâ€" ly unconscious formality. And thon Mrs. Hagarty hears a low _ exclamation â€" and a scramble, and her mastor‘s quick, loud step cross n& the ilcor, ani smothers herâ€" sellf with bhor apron. | .. l s "Bother her for an old nuisance," George mutters with savage ingraâ€" titude. "I beliove she has been lisâ€" tening and spying on us all the time." pature. Sho toils wearily up the stairs, pallid, ~hollowâ€"eyed, tiredâ€"looking, with the agreeable consclousness of having to set to work immediately 1i can act no other way. It will be at least honest," George says, thinking deeply, and not noticing her in the least. "I will write to your father at once, and then 1I shall have time to receive his letter before the expedition starts. It leaves London about the first of Beptemâ€" ber, in three weeks‘ time." In three wpeeks‘ time !". ‘"Then, in that case, as you are leaving the country at once and we shall not meet again for two years or 8o," Gillian says, in a cold, decided tone, "otf what use is it to inform my father of our acquaintance until your return ?" ani talk n# a hallâ€"open door ly unconscious "Tho Crathurs! I‘ve frightened the lives out ov ‘em," she says, remorseâ€" fully, but shaking ber fat shoulders io silont lauchter. * And then his diatribe ends suddenly, at tho sight of the littls, fair, whiteâ€" robed figure, in the firelight by his hearth, with her head turned away, striving to conceal her tears with one trembling hand, whilst she is shaking with pitiful sobs. Anmd then George throws prudence aml wisxlom and restrictions to the winds for the time. "Say, ‘I will, dear George,‘ and stoop down and put your arm about my neek and give me a kiss. You have never kissed me yet, Gillian," bhe says, kneeiing still, with his arms around her waist. Awdl the girl obeys him literally, trembling very much, and her pure, solt mouth burnus like a fire as it touches his beneath the "knightly growth that fringed his lips." "I wil, dear George," she says. They do gaot hear or do not heed a sound or the echo of a footstep, but suddenly a voice out of the gloom of the dark hall startles them exâ€" cesslvely, s "You won‘t go away from me ?" she asks, eagerly, in tremulous hope and fearâ€" "you won‘t go away from me for long, dreary years? I have no body in the world but you." ‘"Then you siail have me, my sweetâ€" est," George says, fervently and recklessly, "and I will stay and deâ€" voto my life to you, and even if we cannot marry for a couple of years we can meet each other sometimes and write to each other sometimes, wunless your father is quite~ unreâ€" lenting, and so we shall be happicr than If we were parted by thousands of miles, shalil we not ?" "I shall," Gillian says, sorrowfulâ€" ly ; "and when I am twentyâ€"one, will you let me give you all my own money ?" t "On condition you give me yourself with it," George replies, smiling And, indeed, a man may be excused smiling pleasantly at the near prosâ€" pect of twenty thousand pounds in excellont investments, and a fair, devoted young wile into the barâ€" gain. f "Let there be none," the girl inâ€" terposes, with suppressed passion in her trembling voice. "There is no understanding. Let there be an end of it all." "Wellâ€"no, indeed, that is quite ‘ true," George admits, wavering. "It is of no use, as you say, Gillian, only ; it is scarcely honest or bonorable t.o: havro either a tacit understaudlng‘l between us." : "Certainly, if you say so, Miss Deane," Gorge says, amazed and bitâ€" terly mortified and indignant as he rises to his feet. "You are but acting with worldly wisdom and prudence as you would act in a year or two htpce, I care say, and Iâ€"â€"*" _ "No, no, I won‘t say that, Gilâ€" lian, my darling," he says, throwing Wmself on bhis knees beside her. "You said you loved me, my little wife. I can never leave you or forsake you now for all the fathers on earth." brightly. _ "I will," Gillian whispers, hangâ€" Ing her head down. Stops the CougW and Works Of the Cold. xative Bromoâ€"Quinine T.Nflr a celd one day. No Cure. No Pay. 36 conta, w@ M aéoé on a rent "_Gillian says, sorrow[fulâ€" when I am twentyâ€"one, let me give you alil my CHARPTER XX. "The deuceâ€"as you call himâ€"may; I don‘t," Anne interposes with an icy smile, and her deft fingers, knitâ€" ting lip ribbon bows as if she had no other care in life. "The tradesmen that are tired of your debts and the moneyâ€"lending Jeows I do know about, as well as your aunt, Lady Jeannette does.‘I know of nothing else." _ to each other long ago, and you agreed in the most coldâ€"blooded pruâ€" dence that you would help me in a etrait of this kind, because we had agreed you could help me in no other way. I want money desperately, and you knew it then, and you know it now, as you know more of my affairs than any one in the worldâ€"even myâ€" self. I believe you know I am in debt and keeping away from my creditors and Jews, andâ€"deuce knows whatâ€"" Bingham Lacy drags his carefully curied moustache savagely through his fingers, as if he would pull it out by the roots and his cold, gray eyes gli¢ter with suppressed _ rage. ‘You know well enough how desâ€" perate my circumstances are," he continues, resentfully, looking at "I never thought you would turn on me and fail me, whoever did," he says, trying toemulate her composâ€" ure and indif{erence of tone."I thought we had said all that could be said "Isn‘t that bad enough?" Lacy demands, angrily. "You‘re like all the women! _ Turn on a man as soon as ho is down, and say, ‘I told Anne makes no reply, and seems ebsorbed in tacking lace on the edge of the flounces. She flings off her bonnet and caps on the nearest chair, and sees them tumbole on the floor with a reckless indifference which she selâ€" dom permits to herself. _ _ _ and the sewingâ€"machine and the workâ€"basket â€" all waiting ostentaâ€" tiously ready for her; hot and faâ€" tigued from her walk \o the August afternoon, â€" woaried by her _ own perplexed and miserable thoughts worse than all. "Poor, injured gentleman!:" she laughs, tauntingly. "Because I reâ€" fuse, absolutely refuse, to play liag and traitress _ for you â€" any longer, I am taking a cruel advantage of you ! Very well! I am. Reproach me, if you please. It will amuse me whilst I run the lace on thesoe flounces." Damer‘s #ilk and lace, she groans aloud in sick despair of herself, her life, and everything belonging to it. "I wish I could die!" she says slowly, with a tearless sob, and then suddenly starts up with frightâ€" ened eyes and a white scared face, at the sound of some one in the room with her. es "Anne, don‘t begin sneering and scoffing at me!" Lacy says, hoarsely. ‘"You have a merciless tongue, and a morciless tlempor, and I aimn all in the wrong, and humbled forever in your sight, and you take a cruel advantage of it !" There are a few moments of sollâ€" tary peace before her ere she must begin her work, and burying _ her face ia her hands amongst Lady son spot that starts on her pale cheek, as sho just glances at him, and rapidly begins to unfold the silk dress, and to put the sewing machine into working gear. ; » "No nonsense! Anne! what is it ?" bha urges in a low tone still, drawing nearer. "Is anything the matter with you ? She is downstairs with old Mrs. Blake, who called and is sure to stay an hour," ke adds in a whisocr. "I came up here on purpose to see you and to ask you what you know or have discoveredâ€"â€"*" His sentence remains unfinished, as Anno looks up at him suddenly, _ a flame of scorn lighting up her face and transforming it into a handsome fury. " What are you talking . about ? You woere never dupe, or fool, or Judas for me!" he says, thickly. "I‘ve never tried to make you so, at all events! You chose to mark ou* a certain line of conduct for yourself when you resented my beâ€" havior to you. I do not blame you â€"I nevetp did. I know I was a brute and a scoundrel to you!" "*Had not that repose Which stamps the cast of Vere de Vere." . Why, you are speaking ‘certain truths‘ and ‘hitter words‘ like the vulgar woman in the poem!" A deep easy chair in the window with its back turned towards her has hidden him from sightâ€"Lady Damer‘s nephew, Captain Lacy, who with a set pale face and startled eyes for his own part, is standing close beâ€" side, looking at her. ____ s 0d dertone. "I did not imagine you came into the needlewoman‘s room for your afâ€" ternooD‘s . lounge, Captain Lacy!" Anne replies with frigid rebuke and assumed indifference, a little belied by her quick breathing and the crimâ€" ‘"Nothing," she says, with a fierce sneering laugh that shows all her white, even teeth. "Do you hear me? Nothing! I have played dupe, and fool, and Judas for the last time for you, or for any one!" _ He retreats a step or two involâ€" untarily, in angry alarm. u45 ‘"What unflattering names you bestow on an elegant person!" Anne sneers, carefully measuring lengths of ribbon. "One would really consider your manner ‘"What is it, Anne? What is the matter ?" he says in a hurried unâ€" For one moment the weakness of the woman‘s nature overcomes her, and she suffers his embrace, and his head resting on her breast, the faith{ful breast which he has tortured for miserable years; and then her pride and selfâ€"respect and the memâ€" ory of unatonedâ€"for wrongs comes to her rescue. s ie ** What nonsense you do talk, clever as you are, when your temper is up!"‘ Lacy says, angrily. "If Aunt Jeannette talks infernal bosh, and trieg to ride roughâ€"shod over every one, is that a reason you should imâ€" itate her? You are her own relaâ€" tive, her stepâ€"sister‘s granddaughter, my equal in bh}% my . superior in everything eIse, dnd if T could afgc);‘d; you «a coronet, Yoau wpuld ‘grace it better than any woman I know! If " At least, of my own free will, I will not endure this deliberate insult from you," she says sternly, pushing him away. "‘Though it be usual enough for men of your classâ€"Lady Damer‘s words, rememberâ€"to amuse themselves at. the expense of a woâ€" man of my classâ€"" [ +\ PR e I could offer you a position worthy of you, you should be my wife toâ€" morrow if you would." Again, for a few minutes, he preâ€" vails. m c "But as there does not happen to be any coronei waiting to be fitted ‘"That‘s right, Miss O‘Neil. Sharpen the points of a few more barbed taunts," he says, laughing, bitterly. "I am not deserving of your conâ€" sideration, I know well; but until toâ€"day you have not been quite so hard on me. I didn‘t call my intendâ€" ed course of conduct ‘honorable‘; I never thought it was anything betâ€" ter than, as I say, a desperate man‘s desperate remedy.. If the remedy has failedâ€"as I suspect, as indeed I am almost sure since last nightâ€"that is no reason why you should add to my sense of defeat by heaping seorn on me." "I am very sorry for your ‘defeat,‘ as you call it, Captain Lacy," she says, gravely. ‘"‘That is, if you accept it am a defeat. L suppose a brave solâ€" dier knows wher he is beaten. If it be any consolation to you to know it, I think the odds were overwhelmâ€" ingly against you from the first. Women are proverbially perverss and wanting in correct judgment and sound taste, you know, and when they love deeply and passionately they nearly always love blindly and madly," hi idre B Aohutcaintatt it tetsaixte mt tr ‘I know if, Iknow it !" ho interâ€" rupts, trying to hold her. " Anne, my darling, what have you not enâ€" dured for my most unworthy self ?" _ Anne puts her work down for a minâ€" nt? and riges to her feet, moving a little way from him. Lacy is a vain man, as men of his type are apt to be. Refined, selfish, and selfâ€"indulzent, but through all his coldest and surest calculations preâ€" senting the fatally weak, assailable point in his natureâ€"flattery. And the delicate personal flattery of a woman whom he knows to be mentally, his superior in all things, who comprehends him and underâ€" stands him and his follies and weakâ€" nesses botter than he does himself, is like a draught of choicest wine to him, discouraged and mortified, and wellâ€"nigh despairing. es as I sakd before, due more to the perversity of her sex than any other reason that (Gillian Deane has chosen George Archer for a lover. She is a romantic schoolâ€"girl, and she has the perversity of a woman, and so she just elected to do the thing one would not have expected her to do, and elocted to pass over what one would naturally expect her to reâ€" gard." * her quiet employment, "and nothâ€" ing remained to me but the desperâ€" ate and unpleasant remedy of marâ€" rying for money." _ _ _ _ _ _ "An honorable man seldom hesiâ€" tates: in seising. even a ‘Gdauspcrate and unpleasant remedy‘ in order to ameliorate ‘his position," she says, sententiously, with the air of one ml!’ct)tlng,aome trite copyâ€"book morâ€" allty. 1 "As Miss Gillian Deane loves Mr. George Archer ?" Captain Lacy adds, with a slight, scorn{ul smile. "But I can‘t agree with you that she shows lack of taste, or perversity. George has five feet eleven of physical comeâ€" liness. That is an overwhelming arâ€" gument with a romantic schoolgirl." "In the present instance," she says, in a lower tons, "I cannot see how the argument should have been the prevailing one. I believe it is, But as he speaks he meets Anne‘s eyem, and the passionate light of their smile and the transient flush that warms all her faco into tenderâ€" *"*Anne! Anne, my dearest !" he says, hurriedly, and almost before she is aware he clasps her in his arms and lays his head on her breast. ‘"My dearest ! The only woman I ever loved or can love! You know that, Anne, in spite of everything !" he urges, pasgsionately. ‘*You know I have your heart and you have mine. The only woman who can ever conâ€" trol me, or guide me, or counsel me ! I‘ll never succeed in anything, Anone, unless you are with me; I‘ll never prosper in this world unless you are by my sAde 4 I can‘t‘ losa you, I can‘t give you up, and what can I offer you ?" :; P ‘"‘Nothing !" she says, curtly and concisely, drawinz away from him. ‘"Pleasge let me go. I thought this nonâ€" sense was over and done with a year ago at the very latest. With the kind and wise assistance of your aunt, Lady Jeannette, I thought this ab surd fancy of yours for her waitingâ€" womanâ€"her own words, rememberâ€" was effectually extinguished by her ridicule and reproof. I had worse than ridicule and reproo{ to endure, also, please .to rememberâ€"â€"" _ Take Laxrative Bromo Quinine Tablets. All m\vuu refund the money if it fails to cure,. E. W. Grove‘s signature is on each box. 250. Lacy‘s darkly, : temples. Lacy looks at her steadily with a slight smile ; his cold gray «eyes growing darkeor and softer. _Anne‘s dark brows elevate themâ€" selves slowly. | o XYol "Just what you did, Anne," he says, laying his hand on hers. "The time you refused old Moore, and Dunlavin House with a handsome inâ€" come, for me and my most unworthy sake !" She crimsons and her eyes flame as she snatches her hand away. ‘‘Your illustration is quite correct, sir; I wish I could say the same of the taste that prompted it!" she says, turning her back on him. But Lacy follows her, with a new light in his faceâ€"cagerness, hope, alâ€" most passion in his eyes. TO CURE A COLD IN ONEK DAY J pale, d and the delicate > veing face colors rise up in his smil6, and‘yet with a suppressed wistfulness in her eyee and voice, which he might perceive, if he would "and as your position can‘t be mainâ€" tained without the ‘desperate and unpleasant â€"remedy‘ â€"of.â€"< marrying some pretty girl with ‘plenty of moneyâ€"I don‘t quité #ee the purport of all this waste of emotion.. You‘ll want it all to supplant George Archâ€" er, I assure you." / ‘"So I should imagine," Lacy says, twisting his moustache, "judging judging from a scene I caught a glimpse of in the firelight yesterday evening." "So you told me when I met you in the village," Anne sgays, calmly wBcorn{ul, her brilliant eyes looking him through and through. ‘"Well, you can judge of the difficulties in your path, can‘t you? I was not favored by any glimpses, or overheard conâ€" versations or confessions of any kind, but I am quite sure you have decidâ€" ed obstacles in the way of winning Mises Deane‘s heart." "You can‘t, Anneâ€"you never can," ha says, in a low tone, coming back to her side and stooping aown. "You can‘t, Anneâ€"any more than you can give me back all the kisses I have given you, and that you have given me. Give me one more Anne â€"my â€" ‘gentle Annie‘â€"my â€" darling Anne !" ‘"I‘‘" make you a wedding present of your property if their is any of it in my keeping," Anne says with a cold laugh, sitting down to her work again. Anne!" he says, stroking his chin with the delicate whaite hand of which he is not unreasonably vain, "I don‘t want her heart," Lacy says. almost brutally ; he can feel Anne‘*#s unspoken contempt stinging him like a scorpion. "If she marries me with her heart in somebody else‘s keeping, we‘ll be all the better matched " "Don‘t touch me!lâ€"don‘t dare to touch me, Patrick Lacy !" she says fiercely, â€"between her closeâ€"shut teeth; and as he persists, knowâ€" ing his power over her, and _ the tender love of which he is all unâ€" worthy, and comes closer to her unâ€" til his blonde moustaches touch her brow, she wrenches herself away, and holds one hand up menâ€" acingly. i He draws back then, flushed and smiling angrily. ( e "You‘re half an angel, hall a tigress, so perfect is its size, shape, and color, and which represents at this moment a very heavyy Gdebt in Bond street gloves and the splenâ€" did threeâ€"stone diamond ring which flashes on one finger. "And you are in bad temper, I know, or you would not call me ‘Patrick,‘" he adds, "when you know that I detest my first baptismal nameâ€"that I have forsworn it altogether." For Mrs. Biake, one of the county gossips, has just retailed to Lady Jeanette, with "nods, and becks, and wreathed smiles," what some one has said, and what some _ one else Jhas thought, and what some ong else has been told "on good auâ€" thority," apout MissDeana‘s acciden t: and Miss Deane‘s residence in Darragh Castle as Mr. Archer‘s guest. "As sure as the Heaven is above me, if you do I will strike you across your face!" she says, panting and white with rage. His pride is eager to avenge itself for George Archer‘s triumph. _ His love is eager to wound the woman who loves him only too well, and yet dares to be cold and scornful _ to him; to wound her to the heart, so that she cannot hide her paim unâ€" der a mask of contempt, as sho has done. If Anne ha2 listened tenderly to his avowal of undying love for her, and bewailed with him the impossibilâ€" ity‘ of their ever being more to each other than unhappy lovers, and pitied bim: for his debts, and sorrowed over the â€" hardâ€"heartedness of his crediâ€" tors, and flattered with her sweet, appreciative flattery, â€" and let him _ steep his _ selfish, _ sensuâ€" ous naturo in an atmosphere of sentimental woe and _ selfâ€" pity, and soothed him by her bitâ€" ter tears and her agony of grief at the prospect of surrendering him, as she had done many times before â€"poor Anne!â€"he would have gone away comparatively happy, bland, selfâ€"possessed and averse to _ deâ€" clsivel action as usual. t As it is he is angered, revengeful, determined, jJealous. f ‘"And forsworn your country and your birthright as an Irishman, along with a few other trifles." Ann]o; amends, setting the machine to work. And when he goes Gownâ€"stairs he finds Mrs. Blake has just gone, and Lady Jeapnette in the worst of humors. "Of coursge, I know he Isn‘t at the Castle; I know that wouldn‘t have been permitted for a moment and I said so, though I was told hg sat un with her on the night oi the acciâ€" dent, and helped Dr. Coghlan set her arm," the old lady says, giggling with malicious amusement. ‘"But you may be sure, if they want to meet, they manage to meet, my dear Lady Damer ! It‘s frightful trouble to have to manage a pair of those headstrong young foolg when they fall in love, and I‘m sure you have your hands full ! Yem, of course, I knowâ€"she ig a sweet, pliant young creature, and Damer, all that innocence and pliancy doéd so soon take flight before a bold wooer i And I suppose George Archer Isn‘t to be very much blamed if he is a Â¥ery bold wooer in this case, with so much depending on his woolng and winning." Lacy makes some reply to this, but the flying treadles and the whirr of the machine drown his voice. He leaves the room with a backâ€" ward glance, but she ncither pauses In her work nor turns her head ; and even from so slight a cause Captain Lacy‘s sense of defeat and mortifiâ€" cation is added to the greater cause, and both sting him into an unusual recklessness and determination. "‘ggvt charmingly brought up. â€" She &# all that : but, my dear ‘Lady Thus Mrs. Blake. And as she is too important a person to cither ignore or offend, Lady Damer has to endure her conversation as best she may. And when the lady is going she deâ€" livers her parting shot. 4 "Anne," he says softly, "I am going now. Forgive me if I have annoyed He bitterly tells himsel{, as he goes downâ€"stairs, that whatever ho does now is partliy Anne‘s doing. But Anne makes no response to this either, and gives undivided atâ€" tention of feet, eyes and hands to the rapid machine which is devouring the work she supplies. »*"â€"gho says, ‘with a slight, bitter CHAPTER XXIL ONTARIO ARCHIVEsS TORONTO \ "There is such a thing, Lady Daâ€" mer, my dear, as ‘shutting the stable door when the steed is stolen.‘ Take my adviceâ€"I‘m older than youâ€"keep that innocent, charming little cousin of yours under your eyes, or,my word for it, you‘ll find that goodâ€"looking young Archer will keep her under his eye, and that for good and ali. She has plenty of money if he hasn‘t, and some of these fine mornings you‘ll fiad be has persuaded the innocent little creature into marriage by speâ€" clal licence, and an early morning train to Killarney for the honeyâ€" moon and the hundred thousand pounds !" Lady Damer fairly grinds her teeth as she recalls this warning, and she is too disturbed and wrathful to be able to quite refrain ftom angrily repeating Mrs. Blake‘s prophecies to her nephew. "I pay not the slightest attention to that old gossiping woman‘s insolâ€" ence," her ladyship says, fanning herâ€" sel{ ; "but you see how I am annoyâ€" ed. It is all on your account, Bingâ€" ham. I should never have troubled to bring the girl here, if it were not on your account; and, I must say, you have disappointed me bitterly ; you have had opportunities, I am sure." "Plenty, but not a chance on the board. The game was up long ago as far as the young lady is concernâ€" ed," retorts Lacy, laughing, feeling rather gratilied by Lady Jeanâ€" nette‘s vexation. "I wish you would _ drop your detestable slang and speak plainly," her ladyship says, with a flash like swordâ€"blades in her cold, clear eyes. "Be good enough to remember you owe me some considâ€" eration, no matter how indolent and selfâ€"indulgent you may be." How Relief Came to Thomas Findlay, of Petrolea. e Had Suffered for Forty Years From Dyspepsiaâ€"Food Became Detestable and Stomach Cramps Made Life a Burden. (From the Topic, Petrolea, Ont.) Few men in Petrolea are better known than Mr. Thomas Findlay, who has resided here nearly forty years. In 1862 Mr. Findlay came here, and before the railroad conâ€" nected with Petrolea he drove & stage coach bringing the early oil men. When the railroad came here Mr. Findlay engaged in the oil busiâ€" ness, but later he suffered from a gun accident that disabled his hands perâ€" manently. _ After recovering from this Mr. Findlay was appointed conâ€" stable and nightwatchman for the town, which office he has held durâ€" ing thirty years past. _ This acciâ€" dent was by no means Mr. Findlay‘s worst misfortune. From early youth he had been a martyr to dyspepsia, which finally brcame so bad that he looked forward to death aw a merciâ€" ful release. . Happening to hear that Mr. Findlay had found complete reâ€" lief from his lifelong foe, a Topic reâ€" porter waited on him to find if this was true. Mr. Findlay was only too glad to tell his story, hoping its pubâ€" lication might help some other sufâ€" ferer. "I am a pretty old man now," said Mr. Findlay, "but I cannot reâ€" memb>»r the time when I was not in pain from â€" pernicionus â€" dyspepsia and stomach trouble until lately. As a young man on the farm I suffered all sorts of pains with it ; food would sour on my stomach and violent vomâ€" iting spells would follow. _ As I grew older my sufferings increased. I could not eat anything but the simplest kind of food, and little of that. My system became badly run down and I grew so weak that I really looked forward to death as a release from my misery. One after another I tried doctors and _ medicines, but could get no relief ; then in despair I concluded to quit all and await the end. _ Meantime my condition beâ€" came worske. Violent cramps attackâ€" ed my legs, prostrating me for a time. They became worse and more frequent until they one day attackâ€" ed my stomach, and I thought my end had come. Unable to move and in agony I was driven home, as I thought to die, but after an injecâ€" tion of morphine I gradually recovâ€" ered. From that time on the cramps increased in frequency and violence. Nothing gave me relief except the temporary immunity from pain afâ€" forded by morphine. I became #so weak from pure starvation that death stared me in the face. Finally a friend said: ‘Why don‘t you try Dr. Williams‘ Pink Pills?" ‘What‘s the use ?" I said, ‘I‘ve tried everyâ€" thing and just got worse all the time.‘ ‘Well,‘ she said, ‘you try a box of Dr. Williams‘ Pink Pills, they cured me, and I ®believe they will do you good.‘ Well, I purchased a box and started taking them. After a little I thought they helped me, #o I kept on taking them for a couple of months wauen I. felt I was really cured after so many years of sufferâ€" ing. My «etrength came back, my stomach recovered its power, and I was able to eat anything I fancied, and once more could enjoy life. This is nearly two years ago, but I was cured to stay cured. I have never had a sick day @ince or known the slightest stomach trouble. I am conlident I would be a dead man now if it were not for Dr. Williams® Pink Pillsâ€"nothing else ever helped The old adage, "experience is the hest teacher," might well be applied in cases of dyspepsia, and if sufferâ€" ers would only be guided by the exâ€" perience of those who have suffered but are now well and happy through the use of Dr. Williams‘ Pink Pilis, there would be less distress throughâ€" out the land. Dr. Williams# Pink Pills can be had at all dealers in medicine or by mail, post paid, at 50 cents a box or six boxes for $2.50, by addressing the Dr. Williams® Medicine Co., Brockville, Ont. you will be a sisterl to me. M‘zs Vera Youngâ€"No, I was about to remark that I shouldn‘t mind be ing a widow to you, Mr. Oldbearâ€"Now, please, don‘t say YEARS OF SUFFERING. (To be continued.) A Fair Ofer. Don‘t slow up, even ef things does look as if ye was aâ€"goin‘ to win easy. ‘There ain‘t nobody thet‘s all bad, an‘ there ain‘t nobody thet‘s all good, nelither. Bometimes a min‘it 0‘ fergetfulness ‘"I1 cause a lifetime of sorrow. Some folks ‘re like an echo; they kin only holler back somethin‘ thet somebody else told ‘em, an‘ they of‘en git even thet much twisted _ _ Trust a woman thet‘s liked by other wimen, an‘ a man thet‘s pop‘lar with other men. naimine s 25G, A mind thet ain‘t got nothin‘ is It kin easy be fiiled with badness. _Ef ye don‘t puil out the root the weed ‘II soon grow up ag‘in. _ _ It‘s a blame sight easier to be rick an‘ git poor than it is to change t‘other way. _ eP va c‘ In the daytime the sidewalk, swarmâ€" ed with little black children, and there were dark faces peering over every ®ill all the way up to the roof. He knew the corner pretty â€"well, but he couldn‘t understand why, a Chinese lantern should be hung out of a window. It had little decorative value, ewinging against the lonesome front, and the man who saw it couldn‘t remember that the day was an anniversary calling for the illu» mination. Sozodont . A feller thet borrows money don‘t never hey to worry ‘bout how slow the time goes by. T on ioh A feller thet loses opportunities won‘t neve? hey nothin ‘else to lose. Iots 0‘ golden opportunities ‘re only gilded. It don‘t make no diff‘rence how much ye tell a boy, he‘s got to her the bellyâ€"ache hissel! afore he‘ll quit eatin‘ green apples. _ C KR I‘ve knowed some folks to git well becuz t.heivn didn‘t like the taste 0‘ the medicine thet they hed to take. Queer Way the Poor Tenants Have of Melping One Another. It was about 10 o‘clock at night and on Wells street not lar from Fourth that a man saw a Chinese lantern swinging outside a thirdâ€" story window ol a building across the way. The buildiag was a boxlike structure prematurely run to old ago and he knew it to be a teneâ€" ment hbouse occupied aimost ex« clusively by poor colored people. Bome Tolks neve> git over the childâ€" ish ways; ye kin always depend on in thet they‘re in mischief when they‘re quiet. _ pery*. Them thet wait till they git to the crossroads before they begin to think which way they‘re aâ€"goin‘ to turn, gen‘rally turn the wrong way. â€"Philadelphia Record. "That‘s the way a rent rag is adâ€" vertised. When that lantern is out the colored people know that some one is glving a dance to raise rent money. When some one clse glves a ‘rag‘ ho is supposed to come around and put in his bit. It‘s a good scheme only they say some of them try to m It too often."â€"Milwaukee Serâ€" A policeman happened along and the man asked him about it. "What‘s the meaning of that lans« tern up there? id "Don‘t you know ?" "Why, no. The windows up thers are lighted, and there seems to be something going on." "That‘s a rent rag." "Yes, but what‘s a roent rag?" "Well, when some man gets down on his luck and can‘t pay rent, he has a kind of benefit dance. The other tenants come to it and chip in 10 or 15 cents apiece. They get lots of fun out of it and he raises $3 or $4 to pay his rent. That‘s a rent raf." j "What‘s the lantern got to do with t?" CcOwW sPORTED FALSE TAIL. That Novel Appendage W as the Cause of a Prolonged Law Suit. X cow with a false ta‘il figured the other day in a wuit for damages beâ€" fore Alderman William A. Means, and because the tail was bogus the suit was withdrawn and the costs were paid by the progecutor. _ y 4 Charles Campbell, of Mohler street, entered #@uit against Henry Meller, of Wheeler street, for damages alâ€" leged to have been caused by the ravages in Campbell‘s garden by & cow, which was said by neighbors to belong to Meller. It was Campâ€" bell‘s own cow, but ‘he did not recogâ€" nizo it without the tail. The case was to have come to a hearing one morning, but at the appointed hour because the tail was bogus the suit and paid the costs. He then exâ€" Early in the week Campbell bought a cow from John McGuire, who, he walid, lives ia Frankstown road. He brought the cow home and turned her loose in his garden, but was asâ€" tonished Thursday morning to find what appeared to be a «strange cow in his patch. The animal had pe tail. He was told by some neighâ€" bors that tne animal belonged te Molier, and the same morning he emâ€" tered suit before Aldorman Means. He also chased the cow out. When he returned to figure up the extent of damage done in his garden he disâ€" covered a cow‘s tail with bits of rawhide sticking to it. This and other information convinced Campâ€" bell that the cow was the onn he had bought and had ewitched «l her tail. For this reason he withérew the suit. . _ muo t plained the reason to Alderman Good for Bad ‘l‘.._“l Not Bad forGood‘l‘ooth] HALL & RUCKEL, Montreal, THE RENT RAG. *4