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les at ats. muoumdl et. very dull, es purely eek is of new nal‘at $1& 11 to 1%e yc per lb. EVIEW. c States, and XÂ¥) or more. to to to to to to lures in the luir are $,» rward weu produce are s _ were 10 13â€"15¢. offeri cA 1%%e 0 10%e; old at )wa to y good old at st week, ist year. > United ntinues r ship~ ; sout May 20 % 0 1% eaco. c per e 13 & 0 13 0 17 0 13 tone good eady evre the ire rO in ittle 18 nt @3 pS the L4 93 1@ Poor Clarence! I met him, melanâ€" choly and desperate, at Rouen, whence he had gone, as he confessed to me after a deal of coaxing, to fo:me“"“th only girl, I give you my word, I ever loved !" Poor Fitz ! _ he is very much alteredâ€"for the better, I think; but he is still heartbroken, and, they tell me, mourns "Jeanne" in his sleep, and carâ€" ries a lock of her hair. There, Vane, forâ€" vive me; you see 1 can‘t help teasing vou, now, and, frankly, I ecannot for the life of me, help smiling when I think of ou. â€" You, the first mmms in this fan.lf the astute and worldlyâ€"wise Fernâ€" daioâ€"making love in disguise to a simâ€" ple country virl, who was not so simple as not to know the marquis underneath the artist, and to secure her prize. They tell me you have chosen in direct contradiction to your avowed tastes; dark eyes, dark hair, hasn‘t she ? Ob, Vano ! and oneceâ€""naught but the gold and azure blue, were dreamed of in your divinity." _ Well, may you happy be, dear Vane ! _ It is easy for a man to be happy, for he can so easily forget. For us, poor women, well, the best we can ho»e for is to be allowed to glance someâ€" 13 SUUL P mourns * ries a lo¢ give me; you, now life of m Colorâ€"â€"Flavorâ€"â€"â€"Fragrance Its RICH, CLEAR COLOR, FRESH FRAGRANCE and DELICIOUS FLAVOR havs made it hosts of friendsâ€" Are you one yet ? know C0l « bov h i C ETV SLdC 1ISOD PRAPRRPAPgHR P PC person‘ it is a fantastic thought, but it <eizs her and renders her motionless leavrsâ€"to whom the world is as ,": a shwlowr, indistinet land, of which bes rot the vagnest Mw’m nothing of men, t!‘.ci'l" II‘O“‘:M.‘::“.“. Mmsslons. Uncle John is lempored Bined that ever trod the earth. Fal is but a boy, whose little outbursts of iMten:ber are rather amusing 'j_“’ w? nassions. Unc.e JoAn is @ lemrpored bined that ever tT Fal is but a boy, whose lit of iAMtemper are rather t otherwise. Tew should sB LOVE AND A TITLE 8 can .t your happiness, Let me do so, 1 want to know your wife, and to her love me, not halfâ€"heartedly, ozcther and for always. She can t, I dare say, being a woman. hile, dear Vane, spare her, from isses, one for me ! Lucelie.. â€"BRBy the way, do not forget that ~d Clarence‘s sceret from him, that :t be a sccret still. I‘m here at Court a week before my time; you my old restlessness and sudden cs! Besides, I hbad exhausted Adicuâ€"noâ€"au revoir ! J 1 by word, he reads onâ€"not only » but hearing, as it were, the very soit, insinruating, and languid, of shionable beauty. Word by word so and stun@ him. His face wen® ias fone mdad, v taken leave t only is his his face has w transformation bad looked : ing against the . his handsome T thenâ€"about _ C:‘zrence Fitz-‘ llow often trey nsed to be at k â€"how often they were together! . had Fitzjames been that mornâ€" en he, Vare, had met him in the riding on the bay cob? t after doubt raised by the reâ€" on of a dozen little cireumstances, were rendered significant by her «d letter, arose to overwhelm him. wore true, then he had been foolâ€" deceived by a simple country girl. it must be true. Lucelle was 1 a caimpaigner to rely on a lie, t dextrously told, unless that lie 10t be detected. Heavon! wtat if Jeanne did not im for himself alone! iv at intervals floats out to him ‘s voice, singing its simple sea . It is all about a ship " that and a gale that blew, and the that made a grave for hearts so e hears his step, a slow, dragâ€" p,. as one going to meet his doom, «s up with a smile. : you finished your cigarette*" s; "and I have just finished my h! how kind it was of you to f painting that picture of the Pell for me, and â€"â€"" She stops v. startled by the E:llor of his face, that jooks ghostly under < brow and heavry moustache. on!" she breathes, hurrying to ve vou ill*" and her hand goes a li€ e «c terrible words Jeanne ShrINKS l looks at him as if she fears mne mad, or that she has sudâ€" «en leave of her own senses. :iv is his voice utterly changed, ace has undergone some wonderâ€" slormation. Five minutes ago looked arounrd and seen him @~inst the balustrade of the terâ€" handsome face set in that peaceâ€" of repost which a man wears lined well and bas his newlyâ€" ide within reach, Now it is | strained, haggard and working, h some suppressed emotion. > instant one of those wild, sudâ€" wrhts strike Jeanne‘s dazed brain c« Vane, the b's .:)d’ the b!‘ « gore forever, and thi -‘“t: ho has married is qnite anot it is a fantastic thought, but ve the words had left his »mon of doubt was in his a lie?" How did she look card the news of his identity !arquis of Fervdale?t He reâ€" ow that she did not look surâ€" U mos, and at others crimson. t struck him home in his rankled. At lastâ€"he raised and, erishing her delicate, : in his hands, exclaimed: N CHAPTER XXH _ l‘cw should she kaow is lips, he moves slightly « her hand to fall from his says hoarsely. "Do not and agitated, perhaps, 40c and 50c. At all live grocers. words Jeanne shrinks Arothourongpohuot > > > ) TEA that she is confronting one of the Ferndale "black fits," or, knowing it, understands how to cope with it? ‘ Old Mas. Fleming, Tully, Southall, Wilâ€" â€"s, uny of them, would krnow better how to meet this terrible, hardâ€"faced, pasâ€" sionate man than the slight, loving girl who faces him, shrinking and panting with alarm. Thus the stand and look at each other, the fury blazing in Vane‘s heart t» white heat, rendering him blind to reas m or justiceâ€"rendering him inâ€" sensible to love itself. "Jeanne," he says, and how differently *ba name leaves his lips, that name which he was wont almost to sing, or so it seemed to Jeanne, "Jeanne, you have deceived me!" It is a simple thing to say, but said as Vernon Vane, Marquis of Ferndale, utters it, it sounds in Jeanne‘s ears as the accusation against a criminal before a stern, unyielding judge. $TC She looks at him for a moment quesâ€" tioningly, then her eyes droop. uo Ee es o n t m ApEnt Watcf;ing her with keen agony of fear and hopeâ€" the fear lest Lady Luâ€" celle should be right, the _ hope that Jeanne will meet him with a denial and indignant questionâ€"watching her as if his life depended upon the answer her face shall give him, he notes that sudâ€" den droop,and smothers a groan. _ . mee s ie en een o e ves . a 9 "Yes," he says in a low voice, all the more terrible for its suppressed intenâ€" sity, "you have deceived me. Are you satisfied ?" Jeanne raises her eyes; her face is very pale and her lips quivering. "Iâ€"I do not understand. Oh Vernon, what has happened?" and she clasps her bands in timid entreaty. _ _ ho aHEZTmUEP MBR PRRIENE PC CHOYC "You do not understand?" he repoats. "You are woman enough to know the meaning of a lieâ€"â€"" Jeanne starts as if he had struck her â€"as indeed he had, to the heart. "For all your seeming, childâ€"like inâ€" nocence, you know how to deceive with the gcutest of your sex. You know ‘the meaning of a lie, and the value of it." She looks up to speak to remonstrate, but the words die on her lips, struck dumb by the intense bitterness of his haggard face and flashing eyes. "Are you satisfied?" he repeats. "You have played your part, you have won your gameâ€"are you satisfied ?" * Jeanne finds words at last. "Tell me," she says, and her voice ‘smmds strained and unnatural, "tell me what I have done." At this simple prayer, uttered so paâ€" thetically, most men‘s hearts would have melted, most men‘s arger would have been turned aside, but in the bitterness of his disappointment, in the anguish of his own misery, Vane knows no pity â€"the Forndale temper is inexplicable. "I will," he says, "but you know! you have sold your soul for the worthless price of a title, you bave bartered your honor and your truth for dross, you have lent yourself to deceit with the facility of the most unscrupulous woman of the worldâ€"you, the innocent, guileless child I deemed youâ€"to gain your end." Jeanne‘s eyes, wide open and â€" beâ€" wildered, are raised to his accusing ones. "Do you wish me to enter into the mean details?" he says, sternly. "Have you forgottenâ€"do _ you think I forget what has passed? Do you think that I have lost all remembrance of your feignâ€" ed surprise and ignorance when that nerâ€" vous fool blundered out the title of the man you hod married ?" Jeanne starts, and puts one hand upon a table which stands near her. "Do you forget how you humored my whimâ€"as you no doubt deemed it!â€" and allowed me to think that I had carried out that whim successfully ? Jeanne, can you look me in the face and tell me that you did not know that I was other than Vernon Vane, the artist; that you did not know in marying me, you would be the Marchioness of Ferndale?" H 7 o isLEk ‘Auw« . erelinat Hohts At last he turns, closes the door and As she stards Wit at the back of her face distinctly, and ent, a wild hope r "Jeanne,‘ he 83 ward her, and s eagerness, "Jeann know i_t-â€"tell me But he stogs sud( dies out of his fa« her head, and he se Lady Lucelle isâ€"rig aeaeet O l "You knew it ’" ibly. > s 1DiY. "Yes," says Jeaune®, "but And she looks up eager! westure he stops her. is > 12 sen > e ° «Spare me!" he ©#y9, yourself the mockery of cal excuse. What can °*T deceit as you were guilt] palliate the lic, n(;fed an L4 q 4ka+ sn gesture he stops Nci. "Spare me!" he says, "spare me and yourseli the mockery of some sophistiâ€" eal excuse. What can explain away such deceit as you were guilty of? What can ]m]liate the lie, gcted and spoken which ed me to think that you did not know my identity ? Foolâ€"fool!" he mutters, | pacing to and fro, gnawirg at his mousâ€" | tache, and working the fatal letter withâ€" in the palms of his clinched hand. "Did I know that there was no such thing for me as a pure, disinterested love? Did I not know it. What eurse is it that hangs over meâ€"a curse that, like a twoâ€"edged sword, strikes both ways, and tempts the deceit I suffer by. Ob, childt" â€" and he turns with outstretched hands toward Jeanne, "do YOU know what you have donet You have robbed me of my last hopeâ€"you have wrecked my life and your own. Your own. Oh, Jeann#, what was there in the hollow bauble of & title and the glittering dross of wealth to tempt you to falsehoed and treachery * Yumhm:nfilluwyon.n! of the word w served knew t your ai and yo P mm ormmmmmaneg , C babyho f bitter? Arcor a PM PVR CCCOXOOP 1 f irchioness of Ferndale?" stards with the subdued lights eck of her, he cannot see her notly, and as she remains silâ€" 1d hope rises within him. / he says. making a step toâ€" , and speaking with feverish , "Jeanne, tell me you did not â€"tell meâ€"â€"â€"*" stogs suddenly and the light of his face, for Jeanne lifts _4 ho sees in her eyes that right. he says. almost inaudâ€" eagerly; with "False!" echoes Jeanne, and her voice quivers with anguish, "false." _ "Yes, false," ho says, vehemently; hfltdmtobowutoymeuud "you were false when you silently fir tended to think that I was no other than I am. You were false when you led me to think you other than you ‘were. I thought you loved the unknown, strugâ€" gling artist, but you loved the marquis." _ dJeanne‘s color comes and goes, gradâ€" ually his meaning is dawning upon her. Hitherto she has stood overwhelemed by the passion of his acusation, scarcely knowing of what and how much she is eha_r_getf but slowly she realizes how base and ignoble and mercenary he deems her, Her color rises and falls, her eyes, open to their fullest, stare at him wildly. â€" "The marquis!" he repeats, passionateâ€" â€" ly; "the marquis, that was the magic word that won you; the penniless artist might have wooed in vain! You were â€" cold enough until you knew the value of the‘vgrizeâ€"you searcely threw me a word when we met; i;mr smiles were reâ€" served for Clarence Fitzjames until you knew that there was game worthier of your attention. You are all alike, old and young, gentle and simple. Heaven m’yon fair faces and sweet, childâ€" I and hearts that are old from your babyhood! Do you wonder that I am bitter? Am I too hard? Look at me! think how great a prize I have lostâ€"I, who thought to have gained the pure, ; unselfish love of a heart unstained by i one ignoble thought, and consider how | cruel the disappointment must be. _ i "Can you understand? I scarcely think you can. Think, then, how you would feel if you had learned that the title you had married for was but a sham â€"that there was on Marquis of Fernâ€" dale jand that the man you had so well feigned to love was simple Vernon Vane! That is within the grasp of your imaginâ€" ation, I doubt not; child as you are, you can understand that. I tell you, then, that my disappointment is a thousand times more than yours would be in such a case, for I have lost the quest of my life, at a moment when I had conceived that I held it within my gmag; Yes, look upon your handiwork, and be satisâ€" fied!" With the violence of a mountain torâ€" rent he pours out the passionate volume of accusation and reproach, scearcely reâ€" membering to whom he is speiking, communing with his own tortured heart rather than addressing the beautiful girl who stands speechless, watching him with distraught eyes and white face. Stopped for want of breath, he turns to her: "Did you ever pause to think upon what a perilous undertaking you had set i out? Did you hope that the truth would / never reach me, and that i should not discover how hollow a joy I had won? j Did you ever look forward to this moâ€" | ment, when, the mask stripped from that ‘ childâ€"face of yours, you would stard with your falsehood discovered, your treachâ€" ery: revealed? Or did you lay the flatâ€" tering unction to your soul that my foolâ€" ish passion would blind me to your deâ€" ceit, and that the trick you had played would be condoned by a passing word and forgotten? You deceived yourself. Yes, you deceived yourself. She whom I loved was Jeanne, the pureâ€"hearted, frankâ€"faced girl whom I found playing with the careless heart of a child in the little fishing village; not the girl who, to gain title and wealith, lent herself to deâ€" ceit and a lie! That Jeanne whom I ‘ loved has gone, vanished forever, and in her place: stands the Marchioness of Ferndale, with whom I have no part or lot. No! you were but half wise, but half taught; your woman‘s instinet of guile and cunning was only half maturâ€" ed, or you would have shrunk from this, Jeanne, and have married that other fool â€"Clarence Fitxjamesâ€"â€"" Jeanne starts, and finds her voice. "Marry him!" she says, almost inaudâ€" ibly. ):;e stops and fronts her, the light of passion blazing in w}'xis eyes. . T * "Ah," ix:;z;)?s,"‘-‘tiitit touches you. You see I know it all Will you deny that he loved you, that he offered to make you his a108 WEARC Jeanne looks at him steadily ; her face is very '?ale, but her eyes are flaahing. "Xo!" she says, not inaudibly now, though not loudly. 3 11 +4 Lanbvbe â€" dÂ¥ coun dbenemie s 2 "No!" she repeats, and as she does so the Jeanne of the last few monthsâ€" yielding, gentle, loving and softenedâ€" seems to give place to the old frank, inâ€" dependent girl in whom lieâ€"latent if you willâ€"the pride of a lofty race. It is the old Jeanne that speaks, Jeanâ€" ne before love came and conquered her, and the passion and pride in that "No!" are as inctnse and as marked as his own. "Do you not deny it?" he says, madâ€" dened more by the very absence of the denial, for he has hoped that at least that part of my Lady Lucelle‘s letter is false. "You do not deny it, and not one word of this did you tell me. Heaven! what fools you make of us! I, who dreamed that I had won the love of one utterly {}fnomnt of the meaning of the word." You came to me with his love vows ringing in your ears. Came to me with the placid smile and winning artâ€" lessness of a childâ€"Heaven! that such deceit should wear so swet a face!‘ With a groan, he flings himself into a chair, but he starts up the next moâ€" ment with a harsh, bitter laugh. # "And Iâ€"I poured out my confession of my former life and loyes, decming the concealment a sin against one so pure and innocent. I made mention of my past; while {:uâ€"you were hiding within the bheart that nestled against mine, a loveâ€"tale that had been whispered not years, not months, but weeksâ€"days ago! Jeanne, you were wise! You feared to lose your coronet. Wellâ€"you have gainâ€" ed it. Are you happy?*" a1g onl p h is Pit ie td Ptwlinnin 4 5 d Jeanne looks up, as he extends a hand to her with a bitter laugh; looks up.then around her, as if seeking some refuge from his mad passion. But there is none. With a low ery she throws up her arms to her face. _ + \ s she moans. . He laughs sardonically. "Go back!" he says. "Will that heal all you have donet Will that make reparation for your falsehood? If you go, will you leave me the Jeanne I love, or only the remembrance of the marâ€" chioness whom I despise?" As if his words were the knotted thongs of an actual scourge, she starts and shrinks back from him. ‘Then she draws herself to her full height, and looks at him, her lips set, C Sasil con lape ced ie d cce c l Camaes en her Z}'es“f'l“ui{iig; o o n oY tears in them, they are burnt up now by the fire of wonndyed pride, ;n‘:lpthe unâ€" bearable sense of injury. "Let me go," she says. "I will ~go back!" and she moves slightly. back!" and she moves 8 "No!" He looks at her for «ilemce, then, with a 1 & wife?" “go homeâ€"let me go home! a mamart in "No! Why should you? After all ,.we ure but as many others. One man in & thousand, one woman in a thousand, marries for love; the remaining nine hundred and ninetyâ€"nine are ontent with the shadow and semblance. Why should Jeanne shrank back with & 1o0K Of *error on her face. "I will go!" she says, moving toward the door. "Stop!" he says, and his voice is as hard as steel, and as unrelenti?. "You forget. As the wife of Vernon Vane, you might have left your husband of an bour, your home of a day, and the world have been little the wiser, and none the worse; but you have married the Marâ€" quis of Ferndale . With your coronet you g:rchased responsibilities. From this day forth every act of yours is known and commented on Yon cannot go back without setting the dogs of the rewspapers on your track. You have wronged me; will you add to that wrong the additional injury of sceandal? ‘This house bas hitherto been free from the shadow of scandal; will you set the tongue of every servant wagging, and the country agape, b{. leaving your home on your weddingâ€"nig! ‘t_?”‘ d * you se oo e e e o o C ne a4 Coldly, with cruel distinctness, he aP. peals to her. The madness still hol possession of him, and renders him merciâ€" less, both to her and himself. x4 If you want to keep your children hearty, rosy and full of life during the hot weather months, g‘;;e them an occaâ€" sional dose of Baby‘s Own Tablets,. This medicine will prevent all forms of stomâ€" ach and bowel troubles, which carry off so many little ones during the hot sumâ€" mer months, or it will cure these troubles if they come on unexpectedly. It is just the medicine for hot weather troubles, because it always does good and can never do harm, as it is guaranteed free from opiates and harmful drugs. It is s L221 reler sovonedi‘ . eAPiven CCC o Ee d epei d SE m T good for children at every stage from birth onward, and will promptly cure all their minor ailments. Mrs. J. J. McFarâ€" lane, Aubrey, Que., says: "My baby was troubled with colic until I gave him Baby‘s Own Tablets, and they gromptly cured him. Now when be is a little out of sorts, I give him a dose of Tablets, and they promptly bring him back to his R n ho o / ME + us es oo uo neln int mnein ang a c t S S NFLI * usual Yngaltfl.”’ You can get the Tablets from your druggist, or they will be sent by mail at 25 cents a box by writing The Dr. Williams Medicine Co., Brockville, Ont. A Few The success of a salad depends upon having the vegetables thoroughly dry. yet fresh and crisp, and not adding meat or dressins until ready to serve, Many cooks prefer to omit onions from a salad, and some simply rub the bow! in which the ingredients are blended with a clove or garlic. Unless one has very fine vinegar, lemon juice is a betâ€" ter acid to use, and particularly for fruit salads, should the juice ofâ€"a lemon take the place of vinegarâ€"though betâ€" ter still is the use of half lemon and half orange juice. A epoonful of acid white wine sprinklea over the fruit is considered an improvement by many. Cooked vegetables and meat have a better flavor if marinated before the dressing proper is added. To "marinâ€" ate" means to pour a French dressing over the inrgedients of the salad, alâ€" ® T en t‘ lowing them to become weli seasonot and then carefully drained to prevent the mayonaisse from liquefying. French dressing is generally used for green vegetables, fruits and nuts, mayonnaise Mine lc are eb e o l tr e ts ind racky Cld L C for meat, fish and some varieties ofl vegetables. _A boiled dressing is that in which the ingredients are cooked, and butter or cream is substituted for oil; and the cream dressing is that in which cream is the basis. In combining cheese or eggs with salads, if the vegeâ€" table is a puree, shape in the desired form, wrap in waxed paper and lay in the refrigerator until time to serve. Jeliâ€" cate, yet nutricious, jellies for molding or decorating salads may be made by thickening the water in which various vegetables have been cooked with gelaâ€" tine. Season with salt, pepper and onion, and, if transparent jelly is desired, add the white o? an egg before straining through a cloth. A salad suitable for luncheon or supâ€" per is made from the cooked livers of several chickens, or half a yound of \ calves‘ liver boiled with a dozen pepâ€". reorns and a hbalf inch oif bay leaf. ge meat should be put through a fine chopper or grated over lettuce leaves and the salad dressing served separateâ€" ly. Cold, cooked fish makes an appeâ€" tizing salad, served in tomato cups or eucumber boats placed in lettuce nests and topped with a spoonful of mayonâ€" naise. If the supply of fish is a little ecant, add one cold, boiled potato, Cooked epinach, seasoned with _ salt, pepper, and a French dressing, makes a piquant salad. Chop fine, pack in tiny molds, garnish with hardâ€"boiled eggs and cress and serve with additional dressing. â€"July Pilgrim. Marie Corelli is of mingled Scotch and TItalian blood. She was _ adopted by Charles Mackay, the song writer and litterateur, and brought up during childâ€" hood in England. She was afterward sent to France and educated in a conâ€" vent, where she received, with other inâ€" struction, a firstâ€"class musical training. She commenced to write an elaborate opera when barely 14. Her first atâ€" tempts in literature were three sonnets on Shakespearean themes, entiled "Roâ€" meo and Juliet," "Rosalind" and "Desâ€" demona." Her adopted father had inâ€" tended to fit her entirely for a musical career, but a curious psychical experâ€" ience occurring to her, personally, caused her to write "The Romance of Two Worlds," which was an instant success, and from that time she devoted herself to literature. She has never, however, abandoned hber love for music, and is proficient on the piano and mandolin. She has published many successful books, including "Vendetta," "Thelmsa," _ "Arâ€" dath," and "The Master Christian." She is unmarried and resides at Stratfordâ€" onâ€"Avon. Booker T. Washington is right when he says "The oporessors are lost." No neewhiehneedltopmtectitselfm another by oppression has a character or civilization which can stand the test of KEEP CHILDREN WELL. THE SUMMER SALAD, ; many others. One man in tl | xmss one woman in a thousand, r love; the remaining nine j id ninetyâ€"nine are ontent with # and semblance. Why should shrank back with a look of her face. o mved vo‘" she says,. movine toward y Hints on How to Serve the Something About Marie. (To be continucd.) to become well seasoned TORONTO off New York paperâ€"hangers are trying to organize as a separate body, with the object of restoring old scales under which they made $50 a week. Who wouldn‘t be a paperâ€"hanger ? The Japanese peace envoys have alâ€" ready had to contradict some lurid stories told by New York reparters. If they hope to set that crowd right, they will be kept busy. Perhaps those people who say they suspect that John Bull is behind Japan in her demands for indemnity may not be far wrong. If anybody else interâ€" feres, Britain is by treaty bound to see her plucky little ally through. The Tanners‘ Combine has put up the price of hides "owing to the war in Manchuria." Well, that is almost as good an excuse as if it had said the inâ€" crease was because of the eclipse of the sun, or the Peary raid on the Pole. It will hit the consumer just as hard. Chauncey M. Depew is a director in seventyâ€"two different companies, not counting the Equitable, from which he retired. In most of these he must be only a sleeping partner, as no man could give attention to such a variety of inâ€" terests. It has been decided that under the present Sunday laws farmers are not prohibited from laboring on Sunday. This is immaterial. The farmer has a certain amount of necessary work to do every Sunday, and few there are who care to do more on that day. Towa h2s 46,000 more men than women, and the spinsters are said to be a little "stuck on themselves." Meanwhile the school ma‘ams of New England, who are 4 per cent. short of material for husâ€" bands, think of spending their holidays in that state when it‘s not the close seaâ€" son. It is believed that the operators of the big July wheat corner at Winnipeg stand to lose heavily. We hope the beâ€" liof is well founded. There will be litâ€" tle sympathy with those who enter such conspiracies against the public and gamble with the foodsfuffs of the counâ€" try. Farm help in this Province is scarce, and it will be scarcer yet before the Northwest crop is harvested. In some parts wages range from $30 to $40 a month with board, and day laborers selâ€" dom get under $1.75 to $ a day with board. These are comparatively big wages, but the farmers are prosperous and able to pay. The only complaint we have heard this season so far is that the hay crop has been so heavy it was diffiâ€" eult to harvest it. Eleanor J. Omphalius, of Buffalo, sued Harry Copeland for $500, the alleged value of one single little kiss and hug. After hearing the evidence, seeling the plaintiff and thinking over the matter for several days, Judge Hammond cisâ€" counted the claim 92 per cent., treating it as a sort of special bargain day deal, added $1.20 for costs, and let Harvey off for $41.20.‘ It was a big discount. But think of all the unkissed kisses available for which the tender of cold cash would be an insult! We still hold the opinion expressed when this project was announced. That is, that while the United States no doubt has a full legal right to leave the wreck [of the Maine] where it is, an unsightly obstacle and nuisance in a foreign hbarâ€" bor, to be disposed of in any way which the Cubans may see fit to adopt in order to get rid of it, a measure of moral obâ€" lication rests upon the United States to see that the remains of the illâ€"fated vesâ€" sel receive proper and fitting burial in the clean waters of the Gulf Stream.â€" New «York Sun. A moral obligation also rests upon the United States to see what caused the vessel to sink to the bottom of Havana harbor. Among a great many people there is something stronger than a euspiâ€" cion, there is a belief, that the Epaniards did not do the sinking. The dummy telephone is the latest: accessory to the bucket shop. Inquiryf into the failure of J. H. Mansfield & Co., New York, shows that a dummy telephone was installed in the room set apart. for the women customers. ‘The telephone had a mechannical buzzer, which was set in action whenever the receiver was raised. Whenever the women patrons gave orders, they were promtly and realisticaly transmitted over the dummy telephone, the ends of whose wires were simply concealed under the carpet. A good many of the fleeced creditors who call at the office refuse to let the public know that they specuâ€" lated in such a place. Beware of the water. The Toronto News says that within the last thirty days the Toronto daily papers have reâ€" ecorded no fewer than twentyâ€"one boatâ€" ingudduuinvhiehfimen persons lost their lives, while twentyâ€"eight more narrowly escaped the same fate. These accidents occerred in sme*" sailing boat Current ComMeEnt | atoaca n Â¥hnarae Q;fn_‘;,;l canoes and rowboats. The large proporâ€" tion of these accidents were the result of carelessness or thoughtleunpu on _t:h putoftheoewpntaofthobuu.hr too many accidents occur simply because peoplepeuhtlnlundinguporeh.‘- ing seats while on the water. Perhaps oomeduy:boatorumwmhbdlt which will not capsize when a persom does either of the above two things. Meanwhile beware of the water. We do not think that Kaiser Wilhelm will succeed in making the Baltic a elosed sea without objections being raised to the process. Indeed, we fancy that the attempt to close it would probably be resisted with all the force Great Britain could bring to bear. The Baltic Bea is nearly a closed sea by natureâ€"almost as much so as the Mediterranean. The channel by which it opens into the North Sea runs between Denmark on the west and that southerly tip of Sweden on the east which used to be caled Skania. The sea is about 900 miles long and from 75 to 200 wide, and, inclusive of the Gulfs of Bothnia, Riga and Finland, has an area of about 150,000 square miles. In the thirteenth century Denmark undertook to exclude at her discretion foreign vesâ€" sels or to exact from them the payment of a toll, but in the following century the Hanseatic League defied it, took Coâ€" penhagen, subjected Denmark temporarâ€" ily to a sort of vassalage and maintained its own ascendancy in the Baltic for nearly three hundred years. Later, howâ€" ever, for three centuries Denmark levied tolls on shipping in the shape of Sound dues, now abolished. It is not to be supâ€" posed that Great Britain will consent to any arrangement that would restore them. She has maintained the freedom of the Mediterranean and opened the short route to the East via the Suez Canal, and it is likely that if the Kaiser or any other sovereign attempts to bar her way into the Baltic Sea he will have to be able to advance such arguments as will convince British scamen and gunners. Not even Russia, Sweden, Denmark and Germany combined dare try that; and it does not yet appear that Denmark would be willing to do so. Many Are Becoming Scarce and Increasâ€" ing in Value. Skins of wild animals are daily becoming more rare and valuable. The spread of civiliâ€" zation is the extermination of the monarebs of the plain, the forest, the junea and the hills, and their hides now orm?t many a musuem, clubbouse and drawing room. The skin fo the lion, the king of beasts, is among the most valuable of the rare skins. It is kingly even as was the animal itseif, and reveals the great strength and courage of the mighty form that it once protected. The skin of the full grown lion is about three yards Jong and one and oneâ€"hbalf yards D DP 1 C IRACCEOAUISK} Gunee Gumbbbr : j 604 400 P 4.4 l ns â€"ShasatyOre en e 9. 1 wide. Its bair is neither bright nor pretty, but its great shaggy mane crowns it like a rare jewel and makes it valuable. The skin of the lion, the king of beasts, l the skin of the lion, and it, too, reveals the character of the beast which it once protected.. Its bearded cheeks reveal the tiger‘s ferocity 7 Te ME CC q EL SnA Alaab Stone sie CEnronl EC U OM 4C AitWiscer en t N E and cunning, and is yellow and black tiger stripes and its white belly tell of the stealithy nature of the great cat. The American jaguar furnishes a pretty skin, despite its reddish white belly and its spots instead of stripes. The leopard, too, has EmE C CC tes Hish+ wallaw awith mpOe UR L. C hue Kates Hoht wallaw a pretty pelt, its fur being light yellow with black spats. The skin of the black panther is also much admired. Bear skins are trophies in many a civilized home. _ The black or the Canadian bear is the most common. ‘The polar bear supâ€" plies a beautiful, soft, white, furry skin, but it is very rare. ‘The skin of the American grizzly is now almost quite rare. Although deer and moose are common game for buntâ€" ers, yet few have succeeded in preserving their pelts with the fur on for any long period. The American black wolf skin, with white spots on its snout and breast, is admired by some people. The Siberian wolf furnishes a fine, soft fur skin. Among farmer lads in this country it is popular to catch foxes during the winter and to tan their skins for rugs and for ornaments, but the fox skim toâ€"day isn‘t by any means as valuable as are the skins of larger and fiercer animals, though the fox is growing more and more at NUR VC OTSCCC LP AL a few days old is said to be worth thousands of dollars. The skins match perfectly in color, and they are doubled so that the coat is the same inside as outside. This coat is an light as an ordinary raincoat, but vu-n'nr than heavy fur, and it is also waterâ€" proof. Some skins of Manchurian tigers are also waluable. One skin is fourteen feet long. A monster skin is that from a 2,200â€"pound grizzly. It measures 14 feet long, and the bear‘s head is two feet thick. Some rabbit skins from New Zealand may also be seen, :;:);-‘fr;bi{ skins not as rure Or able.â€"Shoe and I‘F;Lluwfic. Raising the Young Lapps. Little Laplanders spend the first few months of their existence in baskets of wickerwork, provided at the top with a conical framework too close for the baby to fall through and yet giving the infant plenty of light and air. ol ns Lo e ue Ee ied o SE id 4 * BJore comemncing her work for the day the Lapp mother places her child in the basket and hangs it on the limb of some nearby tree, occupation ;mg found for the little one by stringing"toys upon a':cordpu-edacrouthewpoft.hohr et. Thus provided, the child spends the enâ€" tire day in the open, and yet at the same time is guarded from the troubles and dangers of outdoor child life in other countries. The basket idea curiously paralliels the Indian idea of strapping the papoose into a aging case, but the Iapp baby has the advantge over its Indian fellow in that its limbs are unconfined and a cerâ€" ‘uin;mto(ubertyolnovmdb ldfio;lgfld is carried from place to place in the same basket, the cord by which iltbotmbdwsueohiqdu‘- the shoulder. & o Ns o d ie 54M se "Ah, your language! Eet ces so difffenit.‘ of skins of reindeer fawns only (Louisville Courierâ€"Journal.) OF WILD ANIMALS. »®