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ASKS FOR PARDON n OUR KILFD Injured in Accident sq ine Central Roead. D U were olished ntents, s. The nginâ€" irned wheâ€" right man 1ginâ€" ular tpe. Is us y mef T1 a" 10 C TE V L IERIVE romnvmesiee $ y 2 sA R s Te n +o M ts Wenthee yA oo CA * isly ;.L ‘ ‘; 1 a 28 fln No NV k _Mo on d ie e Cl :%%.| , l w P p I h « the ue C oo & o5 F9 Ue is y § s ce RreTE Sh â€" PW lue Lk td oth Ab4 4 Lady Etheridge was sitting alone, wrapped in a love dream, when Mrs. Maâ€" berly, her waiting _ woman, announced that a young person who represented herself to be the daughter of her ladyâ€" ship‘s nurse desired audience. Rose hastily prepared herself for her long walk, and then stepped into the next door to ask a neighbor to attend her mother until she should return, and then bent her steps in the direction of the castle. "Do as you please as to that, only lose no time on your way to the castle," said the woman, in a tone of asperity that admitted of no opposition to her will. "Child, hear my words, but do not judge them! Say to Lady Etheridge that ihgdaleno Elmer, her dying nurse, prays â€"nay, demandsâ€"to see her this night! Tell her that I have a confession to make that she must hear toâ€"night, or never! Conjure her by all she holds dear on earth! by all her hopes of heaven! by ail her fears of hell! to come to me toâ€" night! Tell her if she would escape the heaviest curse that could ~darken a woâ€" man‘s life, to come to me toâ€"night! to come to me at once! There; get on your bonnet, and go!" "Motherâ€"â€"*" "Got" "Oh! indeed, I fear her wits are wanâ€" dering! _ It is not safe to leave her alone!" thought Rose, in distress. "Rose, will you obey me? "Mother, yes, ‘certainly; but let me send some one to stay with you while I am gone." 4 Cosalens | "Dying! Oh, mothr, do not say so! It is very eruel! You are not sick in bed â€"you are sitting up! Â¥You are not old eicher, but have many years of life beâ€" fore you." "There are many things that you not knew, my child. But attend Say to the baroness that Magdalene Elmer is dyâ€" ing!" "Her nurse, mither! You Lady eridge‘s murse! I never knew th fore!" interupted Rose, in surprise of life and death, that nearly concerns her ladyship; insist, and she will not venture to refuse you When you stand before Lady Etheridge say that her old nurse, Magdalene Elmerâ€"â€"‘ "Hush, Rose! and for once obey one whom you have so long looked upon as your mother. It will be the last time I will ask you to do so. Demand to be admitted in the presence of the baroness. Say that you have come upon a matter "The baroness! Dear mother, why do your thougrts so rur upon the baroness? What is she to us? BCesides, is it Iikely that she will see me, a poor girl, a perâ€" fect stranger, this day of all others, when she sees no one*" emniv to.\“. what "Think of all and when all t! ders at my erir call down impre de not you eurs you at her bese eoid in death," 3: "Oh! she is Rose, In dismay, then lowering he erl mother! trv CBESSS®3 $ TRIAL FOR LIFF CSSOSSSSS0SS8SSSS8088008020 Every Leat is Full ole‘ifr}ug!(i n 4 Every Infusion is Delicious Has Such a Fine fil'-_'lâ€"a;vor That You Will Use it Always After a Trial. nufrse,»migher! You Lady Etherâ€" ber besom, when that bosom is leath," said the woman, solemnly, she is mad! mad!" exclaimed dismay, at hearing these words; cering her voice, she said: "Mothâ€" her! try to eollect yourself! It is poor daughter Rose, that kneels ou. Do you know me? I know you well, and I know say," repeated the woman, solâ€" CHAPTER IIL castle! I, mother!" all that toâ€"morrow, child; the country around shudâ€" rime, when all the people precations upon my name. rse one who has nourished why do you talk so wildâ€" dreadful! But you are \O} I never knew that be Packets Only. CEOCCSOSSSESSSSE22RESq$q [ .81 YREMS ° tor some one." o for some one. You stle this afternoon," he same tone of deep to the castle; and, sk to see who calls exclaimed CEYLON GREEN TEA 40¢, 5oc and 6oc per 1b. At all Grocers. "I am here by your commands, my liege lady, my adored Laura." That voice! Rose Elmer started and gazed _ out from her retroat. Yes, there he stood, her own betrothed lover, bowing over "Light the chandelier, Williams, and show Mr. Hastings in." And in one moment there was a blaze of light flooding the library, and in the next instant Albert Hastings â€" enterpd the room, approached the baroness, raisâ€" ed her hand to his lips, and said, galâ€" lantly : "Mr. Hastings, my lady." On hearing the name announced, Rose had turned away and stolen off to the window, within the flowing curtains of which she sat quietly waiting. She heard the lady say, in her peculiarly rich and deep tones: occupy me more than fifteen or twenty minutes, while the carriage is coming round. After that I shall be at liberty to go at once. I am expecting Mr. Hastings here momentarily. Nay, my dear, you need not leave the room; but when you hear my visitor‘s name announced you may retire to that bay window. _ You will find some prints there that may amuse you for the few moments that Mr. Hastings will remain," said Lady Etheridge. And even as she spoke the door was opened, and a servant announcâ€" ed : t biaiiindtsiiiataerieis â€" suindtsdit css dik a s 1212 half an hour. Rose stood up to take her leave. "Stop a moment, my dear. You walkâ€" ed from the village? "Yes, my lady." "Then you must not walk back. It would be too much for your _ young strength. Besides, you would not get back before night. ‘You must ride with me, and you will reach home all the sooner," "I thank you, my lady," said Rose, blushing at the thought of this honor. "I have an engagement that will not It was answered by a p she gave the order that a carriage should be brought Kie _z "I will go to your mother immediateâ€" ly," said Lady Etheridge, hastily, as she rang a little hand bell that stood upon the table. ncrscii in the chnair at the same table that had lately been occupied by Colonel _ Mastings. _ "And now, my child, tell me what it is I can do for you." > _ _"I have to prefer. on behalf of my _mother, an extraordinary request. _ She prays of your ladyship to come and see her this night," said Rose, reddening. Lady Etheridge looked up with a surâ€" prise and inquiring expression. "My lady, I know it is a very strange message; but I must give it as she gave it to me. She said: *Tell Lady Etherâ€" idge that I, Magdalene Elmer, her old nurse, prays to see her ladyship toâ€"night. That 1 have a confession to make, which she must hear now or never. That I conâ€" jure her, by all she holds sacred on earth! by all her hopes of heaven! by all her fears of hell! if she would escape the heaviest curse that could blast a woâ€" man‘s life, now and forever, to come toâ€" night, for I am dying!‘" "Now sit down, my dear. You are the daughter of my nurse?" "Yes, my lady," said Rose, seating herself in the chair at the same table "Come hither, my dear," said Lady Etheridge, holding out her hand and adâ€" «dressing her as she would have spoken to a child. And indeed, Rose, though of the same age as the baroness, yet in the fair, soft delicate type of her beauty, scemed several years younger than Lady Etheridge. At the invitation she approached and cook the hand that was held out to her and raised it to her lips. It was a natâ€" ural and instinctive tribute to the queenâ€" ly presence of the ladv. shown into the berly retired. °* CUsagement that will not more than fifteen or twenty okeslag c 5n LK S s n a page, to whom t a plain, closed ght round within "Come hither, Lady Etheridge," 3{:“ the same sepuichral voice, in a ne of command at strange variance With a shudder of vague alarm, the baroness crossed the threshold and enâ€" tered the house, followed by Rose. It remained just as Rose had left it five hours before. A smouldering fire in the grate and a flaring lamp on the chimâ€" neyâ€"piece luridly lighted up the scene. But the woman, Magdalene Elmer, had left the chair and lay extended upon the bed, attended by a nelghbor. WPs Kikk 2 c 2 200 en he y 1 ce s 0 _ "Lady Etheridge, you know not what a day, an hour, may bring forth!" spoke a sepulchral voice within the house. "This is the house of my old nurse. This should never have been, and shall no longer be, her only refuge. She shall henceforth dwell in ease and comfort, please Heaven." "You do not look nor speak quite right yet, my dear; you had better rest a little longer." f "I prefer to go now, if you please, my ady." "Indeed, if we were not going to the sickâ€"bed of your mother, you should not leave the castle toâ€"night," said Lady Etheridge. Mrs. Maberly then brought her lady‘s bonnet and shawl, arranged them upon her lady‘s graceful person, and handed her gloves and in a few moments they left the room and entered the close carâ€" riage to drivo to the village. CHAPTER 1v. It was by a soft moonlight that Lady Etheridge entered the street leading to. Nurse Elmer‘s hGuse. The street _ was very still; for it was the hour at which the hardâ€"working inhabitants usually retired to rest. Lady Etheridge _ was gladâ€" of this; for, idol of the neighborâ€" hood as she as, she could scarcely have appeared in the village streets without eliciting some wellâ€"meant but annoying demonstration of regard from the people. The carriage drew up before the himâ€" ble, almost squalid havitation of the laundress, and Lady Etheridge alighted, saying in dismay and sorrow: "Yes, my lady, much better," she ansâ€" wered, steadily. "You must _ not _ overtask your strength so again, my child." "I will not, my lady. I am quite ready to attend you." "You feel better now, my child?" said the young baroness, "Poor ch:ld, you fainted with exhausâ€" tion. You have overtasked your strength. Here, drink this wine; presently you will swallow a piece of biscuit,"" said Lady Etheridge, as she held the glass to her lips. Rose mechanically swallowed a little wine and then gazed around the room again, and passed her hands thoughtâ€" fully across her brow, as thou%h trying to dispel some illusion and collect her faculties. Then perfect memory returnâ€" ed, a rush of indignant blood dyed her face with blushes, she made an effort, arose and stood upon her feet. Prosently Mrs, Lfa.berlgr returned with restortatives and took her lady‘s place by the fainting girl, and succeeded in bringing her to consciousness. Rose opâ€" ened her eyes and gazed around with a stony stare. "Ah, Mrs. Maberly â€"here is this poor child fainting from exhaustion; pray, restoratives and took her lady‘s place of wine," said her ladyship, going back to the swooning girl and raising her fair head, and beginning to chafe her hands. "‘Good Heaven! how has this happenâ€" ed? Ah, I see, she has had a long walk and probably a long f==t, and she looks very delicate. I should have offered her refreshments. How very thoughtless of me not to have done so," exclaimed Lady Etheridge, hurrying to ring, just _ as Mrs. Maberly entered the room, "Come my dear, I will not detain you any longer. There was no reply; but on pushing aside the curtains Lady Etheridge found Rose stretched in a swoon upon the floor. When the page withdrew to obey, Lady Etheridge sauntered toward the bay winâ€" dow, saying: | %, "Tell Mrs. Maberly, then, to bring me a dark bonnet, shawl and gloves to this room. I am going out." e As soon as she was left alone, Lady Etheridge rang a bell and summoned the little page to inquire if the carriage was ready. Being answered in the affirâ€" mative, she said: He made a strong feint of refusing so vast a sacrifice; but finally, with seemâ€" ing reluctance, suffered them to be foreâ€" ed upon his reception. Then the interâ€" view terminated. With the _ chivalrie courtesy of that period, he dropped upâ€" on one knee, raised her hand to his lips, arose, bowed and retired. _"The loved of your heart I do believe she would have been," said the lady, with a beaming smile. Then, with afâ€" fectionate earnestness, she pressed the documents upon his acceptance. "And if this peerless Laura, instead of being the Baroness Etheridge, of Swinâ€" burne, had been the lowest cottage maiâ€" den, 1 should have loved her afi the same. She would still have been the queen of my heart." "No, Mr. Hastingsâ€"no, Albert, I nev er doubted, or would doub#, the pure disinterestedness of your regard for poot Laura Etheridge." "The title deeds of the Swinburne esâ€" tates!â€"my adored Lady Etheridge! my beloved Laura! your confidence,â€"your munificence overwhelm me! Youâ€"but you never did your own personal worth, nor my love the wrong, to imagine that any mercenary thought mingled with my devotion to you." With a look of interest, he took them up, and perceiving their purport, flushâ€" ed to the forehead with illâ€"concealed triumph, as he exclaimed: "I have begged you come here this evening that I may place these docuâ€" ments in your hands," said the baroness, gently pushing toward him a packet of papers. Again he raised her hand to her lips, with more expressions of passionate love, when the lady, with a playful gesture toward the window, indicated that they were not alone. Then they spoke in tones so subdued that they must have been inaudible, at that distance, to any sense of hearing less _ preternaturally strained than that of Rose. bosom, yat she was unconscious of these sufferingsâ€"every sense was aborbed in witnessing the scene at the library table. too ‘sudden and too heavy; i#t» stunned and benumbed her into the: stomy stillâ€" ness of a statue, as she stood there withâ€" in the shadow of the window curtains. She was cold as ice, her blood _ seemed freezing in her veins, her heart was sink, ing, there was a dead weight _ in her bosom. yat she was unennsrinne af thasm dréssing thets‘of * 3 t \ 3 '»}-,' 2 .:“'l' ! the\ hand of pady yand ; dréssing tf her Q@‘m“ e ine \ hand 61â€" bady idgo,;and, .adâ€" | with the relative positions of the speaker dréssing tr ltrgt tlrl? m‘i« "epi~| and the person spoken to. thets/of love that, e“l;‘: been accustomâ€"| * The baroiness, amazed and wondering, ed to bestdw upon Rose! The poor girl‘@ppromched the darkest corner of the did mot faint nor exclaim; the blow was ‘ room, in which : the curtained bedstead too ‘sudden and too heavy; #t» stunned ; stood, No Appetite. An old sea captain hau a faithful serâ€" vant named John, who invariably proâ€" vided a penny roll for his master‘s breakfast. One morning the breakfast room bell rang, and on John going in his master groaned and said, "John, I‘m very ill. Go tor Dr. Dobson. This is probably the beginning of my last illâ€" ness." "Indeed, sir," said John, agitatedâ€" ly; "I hope not. What is it, sir?t What does it feel like?" "I am very bad, inâ€" deed, John," said his master. "My apâ€" petite‘s entirely gone, John; entirely. I can‘t get through my penny roll." "Eh," said John, very much relieved, "is that all, sir? When the baker came rourd this morning all the penny rolls were donc.‘ sir, so I gave you a twoâ€"penny one." Sheâ€"*"I never notice a man in that condition." Heâ€""I saw you twice on the street toâ€"day and you never even glanced at _ The old idea of ‘"nothing new under the sun‘‘ is completely put to flight by the Pacâ€" ifle Coast Securitiee Company, of Portland, Oregon, in handling the stock of the Sea Island Copper Company. This company, whose officers are business men of many years‘ exâ€" perience, have perfected a plan whereby the investor‘s money is under his own control and he does not take the stock until earning and accrued dividends are satisfactory. A new booklet, ‘"Something to Set You Thinkâ€" ing."" has just been issued for free distribuâ€" tion, and it is valuable to anyone contemâ€" plating investment in corporate enterprises. Mb 0i A ds saelth s it ac oc cc c a ica c ids 8 "At length the youth took leave of us and went to Oxford. When he returned he still called me ‘Maggy,‘ but he jested about our childish love. And I, who had grown older, began to understand how impossible it was that the future Baron Etheridge, of Swinburne, could ever marâ€" ry his gameâ€"keeper‘s daughter, and I bore no malice against this young Oxonian, but I retained in my heart a kindly afâ€" fection for my boy lover, as though he had been a creature altogether separate and distinct from this fine young squire, 4 (To be continued.) Plan of the Pacific Coast Securities Company Absolutely Safe Inonseme it was; yet it won my silly heart, for I was but seventeen. Do not lshrink from me, Lady Etheridge. My afâ€" fections were wonâ€"not my honor. And I, foolish creature, believed all his vows sincere, because when he made them he was really in earnest. The spoiled and inexperienced boy believed what he said, when he swore solemnly that he nevor could love any other woman but me, and that he would marry me as soon as he came to his titles and estates, F en e o y e m ly little sister, about ten years old, I became the housekeeper for my zather, rand the mother of my little sister, May. William Etheridge, the late baron, was then about my own age. . He had not come to his title, as his bachelor uncle was still living. The young gentleman spent all his holidays at Swinburne Casâ€" tle, and during the season, employed his time largely in woodland and field sports, He was often with my father and the under gameâ€"keepers. ‘And he was aiso a frequent visitor of our lodge in the woods when there was no one present to prevent his talking nonsesense to the gamekeeper‘s pretty daughter,‘ as 1 was called, _ And nonsense, and nothing but "Lady Etheridge, my father was the gameâ€"keeper at Swinburne Castle, as his father and grandfather had been before him . Our family name was Coke. When I was about seventeen years of age, my mother died, leaving to my care one loveâ€" Lady Etheridge complied, nJm‘i’ when Magdalene Elmer had drunk a glassful, she drew a deep breath, and commenced her story. "I have a story to tell you, Lady Kiâ€" deridge, and I had best begin at the beâ€" ginnini; but first pour me a little wine from that bottle on the chimneyâ€"piece." Â¥ ~a8 uy oys 110. "There is something behind your words woman,‘ said Lady â€" Etheridge. "What it is you have to tell me I cannot imagine." And here theu\ioiximi'p;;;eâ€"x-i-,' 'fixing her wild, mournful eyes intently upon the face of the baroness. _ "Lady Etheridge, what sort of an eduâ€" cation have you received?â€"Oh, I do not mean as to the polite branches, for I know well that you have all sorts of masters and mistresses for every art and science that is deemed necessary to the training of a young lady of qualityâ€" but I mean to ask have you received the education that fits, that strengthens, that prepares you to meet trial, sorrow, and adversity; for these are the lot of all; must sooner or later come to every One, even to you, who are styled the Baroness Etheridge, of Swinburne?" The baroness could only look and lisâ€" ten intently, being unable to conjecture to what the strange words of the woman tended, if, indeed ,they tended to anyâ€" thing. "Or if not astonished, you would ouly be distressed at the supfiosed ballucinaâ€" tion of your old nurse; therefore, as yet, I shall only call you by the name to which you have been accustomed." _ _The baroness looked at the ‘speaker inquiringly, and did not answer. you "Oh, pray do not look at me so! it disâ€" tresses me and can do you no good," said the baroness, shuddering. . "Lady Etheridge, you would be astonâ€" ished were I to address you by any othâ€" er title than that you now bear, would ‘The baroness raised her own large, Jnâ€" minous, dark gray eyes to meeot the fierce, burning, dilated orbs of the womâ€" an, and felt a strange, painful, electric thrill shake her whole frame. Magdalene Elmer raisel herself in bed, and put aside the dark curtains, so that the light of the lamp shone full upon her own emaciated face and figure, as well as upon the stately form of the baroness sitting near. ""Now look me in the face, Lady Ethorâ€" idge." _ SOMETHING ENTIRELY NEW The neighbor in silent wonder beckon ed Rose, and both left the house. Lady Etheridge was alone with the strange woman who had summoned ber. "And now, Mrs. Martin, take Rose home with you for an hour, for what I have to communicate to this lady must be heard by herself only." The woman in attendance rose and reâ€" linquished her seat: to the lady. â€" . not?" (en ONTARIO ARCHIVES TORONTO ’ Sky Scrapers Near the Pyramids. ‘ (New York Tribune.) ‘The Egyptian pyramids will probably lose much of their magnificent and legendary appearance in the near future. The Egyptian government has given permission for the erection of homes and hotels in the vast plain stretching from Eskebich to the Nile and covered with the anciont sphinxes and structures. Already several societies have been formed to avail themselves of the picâ€" turesque view of the building of large hotels. All around the pyramids of Ghizeh there lre‘ to be erected real American sky scrapers from nine to ten storevs in helghts. 1 And this fate has recently befallen one of Britain‘s mighty battleships. Unwisely groping its way in the obscurity of the fog * instead _ of _ anchoring until the winds had wafted away the murky hall, _ the _ powerful vesâ€" sel struck those rocks, and in a moment the Empire is deprived of one of the staunchest of her iron bulwarks, and a fighting ship costing more than _ a .milion sterling is but a uscless mass of old iron. And as the spectator, standing upon the cliff immediately above the wreck, looks down upon the dismantled colossus, a thrill of acutest regret and chagrin throbs through the veins at the spectacle of the dire tragedy which has so disastrously deprived the Empire of‘ one of those mailed defences, which, unâ€" der Providence, keep the jealous foreignâ€" er from flying at our throat, or which enable us to shield _ those of our own and in the process they may also enjoy some new sensations. At the end of three years they will reach the concluâ€" sion, which some of their fellowâ€"Tories could mention to them beforehand, that there may be one pit, but only one, more utterly bottomless than an Albany Club party organ that by neither a recording angel nor a Mephisto could be made to pay. _ But from time to time those rugged ' beetling cliffs, those upheaved crags and sharp, partly submerged rocks, and those scattered irregular masses of hard lime stone are the scene of grim disaster and ruin, of the destruction of many a galâ€" lant ship driven by the wild fury of the elements upon that _ sullen, ironbound coast, and of vain cries for help from those whom the raging waters are enâ€" gulfing one by one in that widely foaming sepulchre. Or at other times, when the island is veiled in a dense mantle of impervious fog, so thick and §o opaque that it is utterly blotted out from view, a vessel, having lost its reckoning, may, too late to etop its onward course, find itself rushing on to certain destruction, in a few moments with a hoarse crash becoming stranded on those fated rocks, only, if released, to sink down into the depths bencath, a hopeless, helplen‘ wreck. ‘ On Lundy Island. Rising sheer from out the depths of the great ocean, and towering upwards toâ€" wards the skies, lies a remarkable mass of jagged rock, upon which now dwell a few score of inhabitants, who, although their island is not more than twenty miles from the English coast, yet, except in the excursion season, are almost as shut out from their fellows as are the inâ€" hnkitfm‘t,s of Pitcairn or Norfolk Island For all skin injuries and discases Zamâ€"Buk will be found a sure cure. Rubbed well in over the parts affected it cures rheumatism, neuralgia, saâ€" atica, etc., and rubbed on the chest it eases tightmess and aching in cases of colds and chills. Al druggists setl it at 50 cents a box, or it may be obâ€" tained postâ€"free from the Zamâ€"Buk (o,. Toronto, on receipt of price, 6 boxes for $2.50. quotes an instance of this. He says: "The .first Zamâ€"Buk I obtained was for a friend who had a small sore on her temple. _ It had been treated once or twice by a doctor, and would heal up for a short time, but would break out â€" again, Zamâ€"Buk healed it up, and it shows no signs whatever of re turning. Having had this proof of Zamâ€"Buk‘s value, I tried it personally for sharp stinging pains which I had in my ankle. There was no outward trouble, but I found Zamâ€"Buk equally satisfectory in this case. I have great faith in it, and think it an excellent balm." [ CHAPPED PATCHES AND | | * cOLD sORF4 _ â€" | Not only for chapped hands, coldâ€" sores, chilhfllim, etc,, but dfor cuts, bruises, ulcers, running sores, bloodâ€" poisoning, festering wounrds, abscesses, pimples and eruptions, etc., Zamâ€"Buk is a cure. It also eases the pain and smarting of piles, and stops the bleedâ€" ing. It will be found able to close old wounds and sores which have defied all other treatment. Mrs, M. A. Doyle, of Wickson aveâ€" nuwe, Toronto, says: "My son used Zeamâ€"Buk in the first place for chapped hands and coldâ€"sores. _ He found it so good that we now always keep a supâ€" ply in the house, and use it for cuts, bruises, burns, etc. It is wondertul how soon ease comes after Zamâ€"Buk is applied to a sore or injury!" fects of the cold are very common; and Zamâ€"Buk, the homely heakber, is in great demand. Miss E. Brown, of Markham, says: "I certainly think Zamâ€"Buk the finest balm in the world. I used it tor chapped hands, and it made them as smooth and soit as a baby‘s hand. My uncle has also tried it and says it ts wonderful." Mr. J. H. Hamilton, of Thormbury, At Zameâ€"Buk a Speedy Cure. ‘The society reporters always speak of a bride being ‘‘led to the altar," just as t.m a bride could find her own way there "New Gobelins you can never buy. The French Government gives them all away to the great people, the salt of the earth, It was a Gobelin tapestry, you‘ll rememâ€" ber, George, that France gave to Alice Roosevelt for a wedding gift." "The Gobelin tapestries, requiring years in the mkinfl are expensive. There are lots on sale, George, that $30,000 would not buy. . "Skilled as the Gobelin weavers are, their pay is no bigger than yours. It averages $600 a year, or about $12 a week. But a dollar in France goes furâ€" ther than it does here. remmpe e ot To NP en esnt Prtssint ces TiA sto w Th hsn a c a a shuttle held in the left hand. The back of the tapestry is towards themâ€" a mirror shows them its other side. Around their looms are baskets of wool of every shade and colorâ€"14,000 tones in all, George, "These weavers work at hand looms, und_ tl}g_v put in the filling, or weft, with "I think it‘s a lie," George growled "I am alluding," said the cashier, "te the Gobelin tapestry weavers. These men, toiling in a Paris factory that the French Government owns, average in the year from one to three yards of tapestry, acâ€" cording to the fineness of the weave and the intricacy of the pattern. "But I know of weavers," said the cashâ€" ier, "who only turn out in a year one single yard of stuff. What do you think of that?" "And a good week‘s work, too," said George. "Here you are, George," said the cashâ€" ier, "You have 114 yards at 60 picksâ€"12 cents a yardâ€"or $13.068 for your week‘s work." The weavers were being paid off. Some were paid 8 cents a yard, some 10, some 11 or 12, according to the number of picks in the cloth they had wovenâ€"according, that is, to the cloth‘s fineness. Let the farmers recognize this fact, and if he wants the wife to keep young and to enjoy life, and the girls and the boys also, to remain under the dear old rooftree, let him pay a visit to the city, and see the city brother spending his time and money in making home attracâ€" tive to the women of the family. The day is past forever when â€" the women on the farms will be satisfied to work fourteen hours for their bread and clothes. The world is moving along. Around thn'dwelling houses there numberless little conveniences that be introduced at a price hardly felt the "lord of the manor." Now this is not fair to the women and girls of the farms, They recognize the unfairness of the situation and are beâ€" coming more dissatisfied each year. Ts there a remedy? There should be. The farmer in the first place should enâ€" deavor to belp his wife and daughters to make the home surroundings attracâ€" tive. Women, even of the porest classes, love the beautiful and long for the little refinements of life! In the heart of nearly every woman is the love of the "home beautiful." There are so many ways of adding to the attractiveness of country _ homes, many of them not costly, that framers of the most moderate means can do much to help the women in their endeg. vor. . Land is cheap all qver the south,. _A moodâ€"sized yard fenced in with some of the fencing wire now of. fered in so many varieties on the marâ€" ket will be a good beginning. Flowerâ€" ing bulbs and plants can now be bought at little cost. They will beautify the most commonplace home. These little excursions break in on the monotony of farm Nifeâ€"for in spite of all that is said to the contrary, the life on the ordinary farm, under ordinâ€" ary conditions, is monotonous. In writing this article T meant to exâ€" patiate on the pleasures of farmers wives. How small a space they take! How easily enumerated! T should say they consist in going to church occasâ€" donally, in attending a semiâ€"annual picâ€" nie or lawn party, and of perhaps a onceâ€"aâ€"year visit to some city, when they have the melancholy pleasure of observing how decidedly behind _ the times they appear to their city cousins. A week‘s stay in town, possibly, and then back to the routine of the old g+e ) life Her lord and master, be he ever so poor, reserves to himself the right to "knock off" at times, He goes to "cote," to the crossâ€"roads store, or to the neighâ€" boring town or city. Upon the women on the farms falls the unceasing treadmill of hopeless drudgery that blights the beauty of maid and matron until a woman of 25 looks 40. What incentive has the farmâ€" er‘s wife to look pretty when in most cases she begins her day‘s work of household drudgery when the chickens leave their roosts, nor does not end , it when they go to roost. On the other hand, she is often the last one to lie down to rest. A spirit of unrest pervades the farmâ€" ing class, says afe Farm Journal. . It starts with the women, wives and daughâ€" ters of the farmers. In every locality you will find houseâ€" holds where the women are restless, disâ€" satisfied and living under protest, yerrning for city, town or village life with a longing that will sooner or later cause the family to move to town. We do not have to seek far for the main reason for the disatisfaction among the women. The paramout cause lies in the selfâ€" ishness (or perbaps it is just thoughtâ€" lessmness) of the farmer, for as a class the farmer does less for the real hapâ€" piness and pleasure of his family than any other class of respectable men in the world. Soon after he marries he speaks of his wife as the "old woman," and she remains just the ‘old woman." Country pleasures‘ ageâ€"much sung about b;’ l’t and writer, also by numâ€" bers of oI:ioe city men who have made fortunes in the city, who continue to live there and will die there, However, they still talk of the merry days down on the farm, and when with bare feet they paddler around in the streams and brooks, fishing with pin hooks and dis po:'tting themselves generally. p _ They have never 'g:n-:: farm! No Need of a Leader. Outputâ€"A Yard a Year back to the there are that can Judging from the number of horrors reported by the burning to death of chilâ€" dren who *have been ljlocked into the house and left alone by their parents, the habit of thus leaving children locked in the house without means of escape in case of fire must be very prevalent in this way through the children playing most dangerous practice, and only the most thoughtless of parents, we think, would be guilty of : such qm an act. But it is done every day. The many cases of burning that take place this country and the States. > It is â€"a with matches or their clothes catching fire at the stove do not seem to act as a warn‘eg to parents, as these "nooiâ€" dents" are increasing rather than deâ€" creasing. Perhaps the law will yet have ts mlkethelockingupofdllmnb in the house a criminal offence, Possibly Mr. Warren might be able ta reason some unfortunate out of his riea to take the fatal plunge, if he or she whould call upon him, but generally when people come to the suicide «tage they are not looking for advice. We fear he woult have to contend with not a few frirnds who might wish to play upon his feer ings, with a view to extort money. ' Jors of t audience l It has There are people coming into our cty for the sole purpose of ending the worry of an uneven struggle. They feel that no one cares for them and they send a bullet into their heads and die, alone and forlorn. Jt would give me infinite plea â€" sure if I could feel that these unfortunâ€" ates would send for me and allow me to talk to them when they were planning such a step, I would like to roason with them and whow them that there is another way out of their troubles besides suicide,. I stand to call upon any one who needs m friend. migt platin Eind som bles, We have not heard much lately of the Antiâ€"Suicide organization of Governor Pingree, of Michigan, but the Rev, Henry M. Warren, of New York, has views on this subject also. Epeaking in the parâ€" lors of the Fifth Avenue Hotel to a large audience on Sunday night, he said: Agdvisgnens th. itearniadnne i sidoramraad en Su aan Ees Rmiiin TOACCC NCY 5. 60 gramme and we might be treated to m pitched battle in the clouds. Possibty before we reach this stage of develop ment in the art of war the nations may awaken to the cruelty and foolishness of the whole matter. Just so,. But the Major overlooked another possibility, The enemy‘s tiying machines might interfere with this proâ€" , The school children of Toront to their credit in the Penny ; ' Bank in connection with the scho :n- of $53,720.30, accumulated a in | tirely in coppers. These school ba | eulcate lessons of thrift to the I'whidn may be of much benefit t in after life. up in it can spy out the enemy‘s land, ree where his strength and weakness he, and report to headquarters. ‘This unâ€" doubtedly will be the use to which the flying machine will be put in the mext war, and the time may, nay, will, come when you can go up in the air and drop explosives wherever you choose, _ This shows how important the «tudy of acriat navigation is, and all the first class maliâ€" tary powers must reckon with it. The dastardly attempt to destroy or seriously damage that magnificent pile Bt. Peter‘s Cathedral, Rome, will not tend to make the world more lenient toward Anarchists. Fortunately no great damage was caused, and strange to say nobody was wounded, These are times when men who represent law and order have need for courage, vigor and firmâ€" ness, and when trifling with anarchism is a crime. The vermin should be rooted out and exterminated. The New York Heraid reporter has interviewed Major Badenâ€"Powell, the hero of Mafeking, regarding the aeroâ€" plane or flying machine as an engine of war,. In the course of the interview, the Major said : "Just consider what could be done with such a machine. An officer going The more that Ontario Bank case is probed the greater grows the wonder that exposure did not overtake the manâ€" ager. The clerks should have "written letters out of bounds" long before they did. In Pennsylvania the health are conducting a campaign aga ers of glucose candy. _ Already Products Company is paying fines incurred by the dealors, Japan has just launched the larges Japan. Will the "little brown people warship in the world, built wholly i become competitors with Europe an Ameriea in naval construction * The last widow of the United : revolutionary war has just died. 3 far ery from 1783 to 1906. But pe ers are generally healthy and lon» M says his elaiqn eampaign cost m $250,370. â€" Did he get that much fun out of it? CURRENT +~«CGOMMENT ve Fifth Avenue Hotel to a _ on Sunday night, he said occurred to me that some saved if those who are co i step into eternity could » one to whom to tell their @nie) Nual 2e io C l PR on nited States : lives ntemâ€" first tmouâ€" t Ni It is a ff nsion thie RY! ved ind i