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ON GIRL NTISTRY ngs B Store # 00 eth deral| @ 15% t the about and were 1N not Th;y said no more then, for at that !into his great, majestic, grlef-atricke:; moment the young minister appeared in | countenance, with feelings of blended front of the rails, before the organ, to | wonder, compassion and aweâ€"in a moâ€" close the exercises of the school. In an | mont after, she stepped up to him, and instant all were silent. A short exhorâ€" | silently offered her flowers, with a manâ€" tation, a prayer, a hymn, and the bene‘ | ner so simple, so childlike, yet so proâ€" diction followed, and then the children | foundly deferential. were dismissed. The pupils who had He looked down at her, and the cloud neither pareuts nor gnardians with pews | slowly passed from his face; he, a lover below stairs, remained in the gallery, un | of all children, saw in this child‘s beauâ€" der the charge of the superintendent. tiful countenance something that touchâ€" Mras. Hunter arose to go. led the profoundest depths of his heart. "Have you a seat down stairs, love?" ‘ Notwithstanding the difference in comâ€" she inquired of Maud, who had lingered plexion, Maud was what her mother hed behind all Rer CIMMEELMALES been when Daniel Hunter first met her The eyes of the lady lingered upon the sweet, grave face of the child . She felt strange interest in _ her _ wordsâ€"she would fain have asked her, "Do you reâ€" member your lost mother, love?"â€"her thoughts formed the questionâ€"but that was not the time nor place for eonversaâ€" tion irrelevant to the purpose that brought them together. (V‘Leary‘s little g‘fl?" "Yes, ma‘am, but not her daughterâ€" my dear mother was lost at seaâ€"but she is good to me as she can be, and [ love her dearly." r-u through her heart. She took the ittle one by the handâ€"there was a comfort in clasping that soft little hand in her ownâ€"she drew the child in, and placed her beside her,. The delicate white muslin on the other side shrunk away from the contact of the brown stuff, but the lady looked sweetly down upon the little girl, and, still claspâ€" ing her small hand, asked gently: "What is your name, love?" "Sylvia Grove," answered the child. "I remember that name. You are Mrs. Their eyes met. Maud dropped hers a« in the presence of of some ho?y angel, and the rndy, as she gazed upon the gupernal beauty of the child, felt a thrill _ And the longâ€"severed mother and child were face to face. _ "Here is your new pupil, madam," said the superintendent. _ _ _ And Mrs. Hunter lifted her beautiful :(.);mtonnnce and looked upon the little 1. Aund Mr. Ipsy took her hand and led her up to the pew door. Mrs. Hunter was bending over a book with ane of her pupils. . â€" K e akt "Madam, Mrs. Hunterâ€"most certainly it is I who am honored in nubmittlns to your better judgment. I will go an bring the little girl to you," said Mr. Ipsy, daneing back to Maud, to whom he glibly said, "Mrs. Hunter is so good to say she will take you, miss." "Oh, I knew she would! I knew she would!" said the child to herself, with a look of earnest, deep thanksgiving. | "I can take another. I will take her with pleasure, Mr. Ipsy." "But, madam, reallyâ€"this little girlâ€" Iâ€"â€"â€"*" He paused in embarrassment. Mrs. Hunter relieved him by saying: "You are the superintendent of the school, Mr. Ipsy, and if you see a mr cause to refuse my request, I w w g., of courseâ€"deferring to yourâ€"posiâ€" on." It happened that these words caught Mrs. Hunter‘s ears, and she looked up, saw the child, and beckoned Mr. Ipsy. Mr. Ipsy sprang to her bidding, "ri.ko Xyphias to his aim." "What is it, Mr. Ipsy?" she asked. "Why, madam, that little troubleâ€" some child has taken a fancy to go into your class, and no other. Really it is wery natural that she should feel this preference, which, I fancy, is shared by all the pupils in the school â€"they would all, dougt}:u. {lrefor the honor of Mrs. Hunter‘s valuable instructions, but, realâ€" ly, all cannot have it." "But since the little one alone asks it, is it not fair to presume that she alone desitres to be in my classt And alone desires to be in my class? And why may she not comet" "Madamâ€"aâ€"your complement is fillâ€" ed up." _ "What, what, what; what do you say? What lady?" he asked, quickly and nervously. * Mr. Ipey‘s eyebrows flew up in surâ€" prise, then puckered down in a frown. "Mrs. Hunter, sir, if you please." "Eh! What! My comanee! Little girls are not to choose what slass they are to go into." "But, sir, if you please, I came here to go into Mrs. Hl:mter’l class," perâ€" sisted Maud, gently, letting her eyes linger on the form of the lady. Maud read well and fluently, though h.lovvohondwithsblmhi:fl cheek, and Mr. Ipsy was satisfied, a ::okthobookh:oghrhsndn.nd;‘dd must put Miss Spooner‘s Tesâ€" tameat c&. y "But, if you please, sir, I want to go in that lady‘s cflu," said Maud, timidly, Indicating Mrs. Daniel Hunter. _ He looked down at her, and the cloud slowly passed from his face; he, a lover of all children, saw in this child‘s beauâ€" tiful countenance something that touchâ€" ed the profoundest depths of his heart. In the flowerâ€"yard stood Maud, gathâ€" ering a bunch of flowers. The child recognized the great man, and looked up into his great, majestic, griefâ€"atricken countenance, with feeclings of blended wonder, compassion and aweâ€"in a moâ€" ment after, she stepped up to him, and silently offered her flowers, with a manâ€" mner so simple, so childlike, yet so proâ€" foundly deferential. "Mrs. O‘Leary, I am neither surprised nor displeased that you should speak so. I will leave you for the present. When you have had time to reflect, and, above al, to pray, you will probably view this matter with clearer reental vision. And remember that my offer holds good from this time forth. 1 will bid you goodâ€" morning." His noble face was full of sorrow as he pressed her hand, and turned to leave the house. He waited patiently until she wiped her eyes, and lifted up her face and reâ€" plied : "Sir, I am disposed to be grateful to you, and to accept your kind offers for my son,but compunetion struggles against gratitude, sir. I do not know whether it is right to feel gratefulâ€"whether it is right to take any favor from youâ€" whether it would not be treason to him who is goneâ€"and whether, indeed, your patronage would not be like the high priest‘s thirty pieces of silverâ€"the price of bloodâ€"unblessing and unblessed! Sir, I seldom speak so plainly, but toâ€"day I cannot help it." But Ellen withdrew her hand, and cov ered up her face and wept. _ _ "Mrs. O‘Leary, you must not look upon me as the exeeutioner of your husâ€" bandâ€"â€"a young man whom I found orâ€" dered for death the day upon which I came into office. With the law and the testimony before me. I could not interâ€" fere to save him. How much I regretted my inability thenâ€"how much more I regret it nowâ€"is known only to God. We will not talk of the past! ‘It comes not back again.‘ We will fulk of the fuâ€" ture. Ellen, I desire to make reparation as far as I can for what you have sufâ€" fered. You have a fine boy. Will you allow me to edvucate himâ€"to send him to a college, and establish him in bustâ€" ness or a profession?" He paused for her answer. Daniel Hunter was standing with his fine head uncovered before her. He took her hand respectfully, and said: "We always knew Willie‘s innocence, sir, and we always hoped it would be found out. He was a martyr, sirâ€"his death was a ghastly legal murder. Sir, I have heard it taught that a conscious. ness of innocance would bear one up through persecution and desth. I know now how that can be, for it was his conâ€" sciousness of innocence that made death so very bilter to himâ€"it was our faith in his innocence that made his death so very bitter to usâ€"for with him and us, the galling sense of injustice was added to all the other suffering. I know not how much guilt may add to sorrow, for I am not in the confidence of guilty uw s uks 1 breasts." In the course of the week Daniel Hunâ€" ter paid Ellen a visit, to make known to her the important discovery comâ€" municated to himself by the bishop. Never in the course of his life, perhaps, ha n ore painiul duty .: orved upon the great politician. But Daniel Hunter discharged it most worthily. The reveâ€" lation did not surprise Ellen the leastâ€" it agitaged her dreadfully, as all allusion to that darkest tragedy ever did. When Mr. Hunter had imparted all that he knew of that most deplorable matter, Ellen replied: "Well, I am fiotng now, love, so goodâ€" by," said Mrs. Hunter, pressing the little soft hand; but Maud‘s face was raised to ‘hers with a look of such wistful, trusting love and veneration that the lady suddenily stooped down and kissed herâ€"oneeâ€"twiceâ€"againâ€"she could not help it! She pressed the child to her bosom, and then, with slow selfâ€"recolâ€" lection, released her, saying: "Goodâ€"by, love, x’ou are a sweet, sweet child. I know you are a good child. Goodâ€"by, love," and dismissed her. |_ Mis Honoria deigned no reply, save n | haughty bend of the head. And Maud | stepped down into the mud and let her | go past. | _ But another pair of eves had seen this | nlay of insolence and love, and they were fixed tenderly, lingeringly upon our little | girl as she climbed back upon the footâ€" way. And as Maud regained her footâ€" ing, she lifted up her eyes and saw uvnon the other side of the road the beautiful form of Mrs. Daniel Hunter. holding her hands out toward her. Maud hastened, springing from stone to stone toward the lady, with the strange, deep impresâ€". sion that she had found what she had set out that morning to meet. ‘"Why did you go into the mire, my love?" "It was to let your little girl ‘t ‘,’,‘{-" 9 girl pass, wish you were my little girl, sweet child, but how came you so far from home, love?t" "I set off for a walk by myself, and gm_k:o’hwhritnsfln!got "Carefuly, my child, carefully," said Mrs. Hunter, as the little girl cleared with two bounds the last intervening distance between them and stood before A narrow, slippery footway, made of fragments of rock, led across a deep, swampy road. Maud began to cross enrefully, keeping her eyes fixed upon | the pathâ€"fixed so pertinaccously upon ‘the stones where s{:‘ was placing ger feet that she did not even perceive the l approach of another foot passenger from | the thicket of cedars on tfie other sideâ€" or know that anyone was meeting her, Lunfil the shadow fell across her feet. Then she looked up. There before her, [on the narrow footpath, stood a very young lady, of very imperious look and manner, who drew her slight figure up to its stateliest inches, and stood still, as expecting our child to‘\;ive way. It was totally impossible to pass each otherâ€"it was almost equally so to turn back on that narrow, unsteady, slippery footing, without falling plump into the mud. One or the other of them would have to makes the best of it, and step soberly off the stones into the deep mire, which would be better certainly than to fall down by attempting to push on or turn back. Little Maud, witg an instinctive sense of justice, looked down at her own and her opponent‘s feet, to see who was best provided for such a muddy venture. The young lady wore nice patent morocâ€" co gaiters, well covered, and defended by gum elastic overshoes. Maud‘s little boots were old and leaky ;she raised her dovelike eyes appealingly from them to the face of the young lady, to meet there an insolent, questioning look, as who should say: "How dare you keep me waiting?" And then raising her _ head arrogantly, she said, with an evident impression that such an announcement ought to turn our child at once into the mud: "I am Miss Hunter." "Mre. Hunter‘s little girl?" exclaimed Maud, raising her eyes, full of deep reâ€" verence for the name. â€"â€" not quite to Howlet Hall â€" not six miles from homeâ€"she did not inâ€" tend thatâ€"but a strange attraction drew her on to‘ollowâ€"â€"ahe did not know how farâ€"and she followed it. It led her, by a winding path, up through _ the stunted cedars to the bleak moughin top; and they by a winding path down through the dwi{'l gfnel to t.ge wooded valley belowâ€"to the broad, beautiful valloy, where the great forost waved like the heavy sea, on the farâ€"distant, oppoâ€" gite side of which rose, like a rocky coast, the mountains that enclosed Howâ€" let Hall. One fresh, spring morning Maud started out for a ramble and somehow came upon the narrow bridie path leadâ€" ing to Howlet Hall Here she stopped her skipping, and became, for a moment grave and thoughtful. She recognized the pathâ€"knew where it led. She was seized with a disposition to walk it old Ashihag, coming up, "and de werry next time I catches of you bein‘ so forâ€" rard to offer flowers to a bi bug like Marse Donnel Hunter, Iâ€"I"fi tell Mr. Bill Ipsy! Dar!t" "Oh, he took the flowers with him!â€" he took the flowers with him!" murâ€" mured Maud, in a low voiee to herself. "What flowers, Sylviat" "The flowers I gave him, Ellen." "Yes, you little imp, you!" exclaimed old AA’hha'g, coulflng up, "and de werry "It is Sylvia Grove, an o‘?hnn, a disâ€" tant relative of my poor Willie‘s, sir." "I hope you will think of the plan I propour to you, Mrs. O‘Leary, and I should be glad if you would permit me to be of service to this little girl, also," said Mr. Hunter, as he got into his sadâ€" dle. "I will think of it, sir." "(Goodâ€"morning, madam. Goodâ€"by, dear little Sylvia," said Daniel Hunter, as he rode away. "You have a very sweet little girl here, Mrs. O‘Leary," he said, as he gave Maud a parting kiss, and set her off his knees, and got up to go. 'mi’ to and caressing the child, had not Ellen come out into the yard. And to him it was a revelation; not that he understood it fully, but it was so diferent from Honoria‘s formal, lifeâ€" less embrace. This was the real, living, involuntary proof of affection, that his heart had hungered for in vain. But he wondered why she gave it, and why it did no’lnrprile him. "It is because I love children so much, and children have an intuitive knowledge of those who sincerely love them," he said to himself. And most tenderly, when the little girl‘s arms relaxed their clinging clasp, most tenderly he caressed her, murmuring, at intervals: "What a loving, loving child! What a heart she has! What a simple, lovin.i, trustful heart! Everyone must love her! Does not everyone love you, darling?" _ _ ° on the boat, only Maud was far more beautiful, more heavenlyâ€"a aort of litâ€" tle August»z idealized, tu.nm-d, made an angel ofâ€"or what the ual bog of little An}\nh might have been. took her offered flowers with one hand, and laid the other benignly on her head, while he gazed into those halfâ€"veiled, sta eyes. And then, with a sudaen im‘;:fle, he sat down on a rustic seat, and drew her ui to his breast. In the strength of her father‘s hand, in the gaze of his eyes, she felt, without knowing it, the mighty, the irresistible attraction of nature; selfâ€"forgetful, she suddenly buried her head in his bosom, and clasped both arms around his neck, in the strong, vital, thrilling clasp of newâ€"born, deathless love! He might have sat there an hour talkâ€" CHAPTER XVIII It is easy to make a dollar go a long way when you get up speed on the down The best cure for a destroying love of the world is the divine love of the world. The saddest infidelity is being faithâ€" less to the best we know. When a man is a god to himaelf, he is the opposite to all others. It is easy to attribute to foes the failâ€" ures due to our own faults. The major blesmings often come from what we call the minor virtues. _ The crooked saint will have a hard time at the strait gate. _ ly in spirit. ‘The greatest sermons are those out side of sentences. The water of life is not found in the iceâ€"cooler church. i. sympathy ine tablets from your dealer, send 25 cents to The Dr. Williams Medicine Co., Brockville, Ont., and get a box by mail post paid. i:?{l;ing else as you may endanger your child‘s life. If you cannot get the genuâ€" There are unscrupulous dealers who for the sake of trifling gain are willing to sacrifice the healthâ€"perhaps the lives â€"of little ones. This is proved by the fact that there are a number of imitaâ€" tions of Baby‘s Own Tablets offered. The mother can protect her child by seeing that the full name Baby‘s Own Tablets and the fourâ€"leaved clover with child‘s head on each leaf, is found on the outside wrapper around every box. Do not take Kllen could not. there was so much emotion, feeling, love, entreaty in the lady‘s look and tome, and so Maud reâ€" sumed her hood and went away with Mrs. Hunter to spend a week. "Mrs. O‘Leary, since this child is an arphan, why not permit me to join you in providing for her? I amâ€"for the sake of the angel I lostâ€"I am the mothâ€" er of the orphan." A pause. "At least, let me take her home for a week and fit her out in spring clothes. You cannot refuse me this pleasure, Elâ€" len." Still the lady held the child‘s band, and looked down _ lovingly upon her, thinking, "she is beautiful in anythingâ€" she is as beautiful in this brown, stiff frock as a moss rose in its brown moss." And then she said: "I should have no objection, Mrs. Hunâ€" ter, onlyâ€"look at her! The child has not got her spring clothing yet." _ _ "It is almost too much t oask you for your one wee lamb, yet if you could let her go home with me this evening and spend a week,. I would bring her back at the end of that time." "Oertainly, madam." It was time to take leaveâ€"it _ was high time to be offâ€"yet still the lad lingered. holding the hand of the chi_lg. "And now I have a favor to ask of | you, Mrs. O‘Leary," said the lady, lifting | her beautiful eyes with a look almost of | entreaty to the face of Kllen, and taking the hand of the child. "Will you let this | dear litle girl come to see me if I send | the carriage for her?" | "Certainly; I thank you very much for the interest you take in her, Mrs. Hunter." "Then vou will let he rcome?" They then left the bedroom where this | intorview had taken place, and passed ‘ into the parlor, where Miss Honoria sat waiting in sullen dignity, _ and Maud‘ stood arranging a little bouquet. "I thank you, Mrs. Hunter. I certainâ€" ly do thank you. But I cannot yet deâ€" cide. I must write to Father Goodrich first." "Do you mean I am to ride with you, lady, and you will take me home?" askâ€" ed Maud, with sparkling eyes. "Yes, love, I should like to do so." At this moment the carriage _ came g}“nxlng along down the heavy road. aud was helped in tenderly, and Mrs. Hunter called to Honoria, and together thnr:! drove to Silver Creek, where they ved late ni:ll tll\e afternoon. KEllen was lur?riud and pleased to see them, esâ€" pecially with her little truant in their eomgcny. The object of Mrs. Hunter in making this visit was to influence Ellen in favor of allowing her son to be eduâ€" cated by Mr. Hunter. They had a long &rivate interview, in the course of which rs. Hunter said: "You know, my dear Ellen, that if any one had wantonly injured you, there is nothing left you to do but to forgiveâ€" and, Ellen, Mr. Hunter never wantonly wronged one of God‘s creatures, from the smallest to the greatest. And now he earnestly desires to repair, as far as be can, the injustice f'ou have suffered at the hands of the law. He knows, and we all know, that the utmost he could do would be but as nothing to the wrong you have suffered; if he could give you his own life, it would not bring back the departed, or compensate you for his loss, but he earnestly desires to do what he SENTENCE SERMONS. Rumor is the echo of suspicion. Forced honesty never has any roots. Lots of people mistake their sighs for "Does Mrs, O‘Leary consent that you should take such long, lonely walkst" "No, lady, and I must hurry back." "Whatâ€"having walked five miles, to walk back againâ€"making tenâ€"it would tire you nearly to death, my child. Come, we are taking a pleasant ride this f‘l'sa morning. Won‘t you go with us? e are going first to the Summit, and then round to Silver Creek to _ see Mrs. J Leary, and we can take you home soner thrn you could walk thither. Will you got" A WARNING TO MOTHERS. lofty work often falls to the lowâ€" (To be ecantinued.) A man is not charitable because he feels like giving ice in January and coal in August. For the theoretical branch a special lesson book has been compiled. Students will have to pass an examination, after which they will receive diplomas entitâ€" ling them to a driver‘s license. Teamâ€" sters who can produce a two months‘ testimonial from their present employers will be given licenses without examinaâ€" tion. The new school is the outcome of a similar institution for cab drivers, which was started some months ago with wery satisfactory results.â€"Vienma Corâ€" respondence Pall Mall Gazette. Technical education in the Austrien eapital sometimes breaks out in unexâ€" pected places. ‘The latest development in this field is the establishment of a school for teamsters, under the auspices of the Wagon Drivers‘ Association. In future all young men desirous of pilotâ€" ing light or heavy wagons through the city streets must first pursue a practical and theoretical course of study in the are of driving in this school, my gun again and resumed my hunting for larger geme as if nothing had happened." Nothing was said for several minptes. ‘Then the man with the white spot in his mustache casually observed that he could tolerate a phin, ordinary liar, but he hated a. nature fakerâ€"whereupon he yawned wearlly and moved an adjournment. ling details. Don‘t spare us." ‘‘Then, drawing my revolver, I took deâ€" liberate aim and fired." "Kill him ?" * Ididn‘t try to kill him, I shot off one of bis tusks, slick and clean. With a second shot I took off his other tusk. With a third shot I clipped his tail off, close up. ‘Then his proud spirit broke. He turned to flee. Jumning down from the tree, I made after him. I caught up with bhim. I kicked him. I chased that wild boar, gentlamen, giving him kick after kick, until I was tired, after which I let him go. Then I went and found guage." ‘"In mad fury be Cwarged the tree itself, gashing it with those terrible tusks in his impotent rage. Leaning back against the trunk of the tree, six feet above him, I sat and awtched him until I had recovared my ling * Veaped on the maddened creatures back, graspd its ars with my hands, and held on with the energy of desperation. I have had many a rough ride, gentlemen, but I want to tell you that if ever you ride bareback on a wild boar youll remember the exv,erience as long as you live. Even then, however, I did not lose my presence of mind. The savâ€" age brute tried to throw me, of course, but I wrapped my legs around his body, tightened my grasp on his ears, and stuck. Snorting borribly, the boar dart@l! ahead at frightful speed. We tore through the forest a disâ€" tance of perhaps half a mile. 1 was becomâ€" ing exhausted. Suddenly we passed under the projecting limb of a tree. Loosing my hold on the demoniac beast, I grasped the limkb drew myself up, and in a moment was out of danoger. But not an instant too soon. Scarcely had I eucceeded in climbing Into the tree when the boar turned and came back. Finding me beyond his reach, heâ€"" ‘‘Tusks is correct. Much better â€" than ‘tushes,‘ ‘ interjected the man who was emokâ€" ing the cheap eigar. ‘‘Proceed. "‘Going to tell it, anyhow, are you * inâ€" tercuoted the man with the buibous nore. ** Tam. You can drop into a staute of commm { vou don‘t want to hear it. ‘ had tramped for halt a day in the woods #ithout secing amything worth sbhooting, when I heard a loud crash in the underbrush not a dozen yards away. Before I could place myself in a suitable pofl,:a t«nl defeaseâ€"â€"‘ ‘ ‘"‘No fence handy, presume," * murmured the mman behind the green goggles. ‘"‘The ch*trral Enned-â€"l_ think they call it chaparral out there, but maybe it‘s jJunâ€" g:â€"md an enormous wild bst came ‘ughâ€" at me. I am not ashamed to say, genâ€" ttemen. that I flung my rifle awayâ€"* "Flunz; the right :oad (}10 lhoan." "I ¢u grd rap for my iife. ut the boa‘st gfionod on me. I saw flevul of no use. 3@9!“ quickly aside, just as the inâ€" furiated animel was about to lance me with one of his murderous tusksâ€"â€"â€"" *‘That rewark is nelither new nor original. I seeimn to bave heard it fifty or more times before. I remember when 1 was hunting in eouthwestern Arkansaw in the fill of ‘82â€"* "It takes a lot of presence o‘ mind to emâ€" erge from the incident with a whole skin, I can tell you." (Chicago Tribune.) ‘‘Were you ever chased by a wild boar ?" asked the man in the mackintosh during a lull in the conversation. ‘‘No; nor you, elther," said thse man with the baggy knheed trousers. "Accompanied by an entire absence of body."‘ ventured the man who had put a pair of large feet on the table. Miss Yaw epeaks French like a Parisâ€" ianâ€"but she has made Frenchiness conâ€" wicuously absent from her home. ‘"‘And then ° Go on with the blood curdâ€" m!mm.m“wto the floor, spread across a space fully six feet in diameter. MISS YAW . AND tHE SIMPLE LIFE Swore dreadfully. Don‘t repeat his lanâ€" AT THE ANY OLD TIME CLUB Instruction for Drivers ELLEN BEACH YAW ONTARI instance, bull fights in Spain and winter sports on the snow and ice in Switzerâ€" land. Railway scenery is very acceptable as are views of large towns, Pictures of the larger towns in the United States would be a huge success in Milan. Qceâ€" casionally typical scenes from American life have been thrown on the sheeting, The fiatien is diagusted, 4 not already I is , if not alr surfeited, with pictures of singing and tivity?"" asked the teacher. "l{h what, ma‘am?" "His nativityâ€"his nationality, you know." __"O, he hasn‘t got any yet, ma‘am. dancing women; neither does he . fantistical scenery from fairy tales. was a . h'ufe suscess here a short time ago. The Italian also likes to see typiâ€" . Ihe italian also likes to see typiâ€" l scones of national lihe: such »e, AaF Good blood is the secret of health. Keep the blood pure and such diseases as anaemit, rhoumatism, sciatica, indigesâ€" tion, heart palpitation, eczema and the secret ills of women will not exist. The most perfect blood tonmic and nerve reâ€" storer in the world is Dr. Williams‘ Pink Pills. Sold by all medicine dealers os by mail at 50 cents a box or six boxes for go gradually down hill. I would tire at the least exertion; my appetite failed me; I had a severe pain in my side and around ?y heaft, The goctor told me I was suffering from pernicious anaemia; that Iwas almost bloodless. I doctored for six months, but instead of improving I grew so weak that I could hardly move without assistance. I lost flesh till I was almost a skeleton. A friend from Btokes Bay told me of the groat benefit she had derived from the use of Dr. Williams‘ Pink Pills and advised me to try them. My sisterâ€"inâ€"law had also received great benefit from their use, so I decided to give them a trial. After using the pills about a month I began to gain strength, and from that on I imâ€" proved rapidly. New blood seemed to course through my veins; my appetite improved; the pain left my side and heart, and I gained in weight. After using about a dozen boxes of the pills I was again enjoying the best of health. I have nothing but praise for Dr. Wilâ€" liams‘ Pink Pilis, as they cured me after medical treatment had failedâ€"I really believe they saved my life." _ ______ . The farmer‘s life is always a hard one, but if he is weak or suffering it is almost unbearable. The hours are lw and the work so hard that nome the strongest canstand it. An illustreâ€" tion of the effect of hard work on the system is given by Mr. George Huntsâ€" berg, a farmer of Spry, Ont. He says: "I have lived nearly all my life in the Bruce peninsulas. 1 am a farmer, and have always had my share of hard work, and like a good many other men I thought there was no wearout to my system. In this I was mistaken, for aboutuymandnha.l!lgolb?nto go gradually down hill. I would tire at Weak and Worn Out Through Overâ€" work and Long Hours, L i BP Jns ) ~@itvar zces A times with hluoceuhdorehm audiences. hig Miss Yaw lomha.om;â€", home betâ€" ter than any other epot in the world. She loves its uiet, beautiful days and long, restful nighte. The broad, shielding sfi""'“!-%w,n.mw soaâ€"these are the furnishings of her pnndho.â€"I::An;sla“hnhu. In another corner of the house sits an old spinning wheel. She sits in front ofk,.ndphy-thstlheislu'guuibâ€"- & verity which she has played many in & manner creditable to a seamstress, Bhe vows eternal fidelity to the prima donna, but Miss Yaw feels certain that she will never be able to take her away from the land of her fathers. And in constant attendance is Adreaâ€" a silent, tawnyâ€"skinned, ivoryâ€"toothed maid. Adres has a Bpanish name. . Adrea is also somewhat of a celebrity among her own le. She is a graduate of the Sherman mfltute She can cook like a New England housewilfe, and sew lips testify to the pure Indian which flows in her veins. cormer, bears materiale which testif nbundnuytot«hh‘mtlm.bfipfz love of correspondence, ing sun by aplimes of a sotossal cactus that rises thirty £2e¢ above the ground . Within the wese house, on the shore of the great Pacifie all is coriness and daintivess § of pictures hide the wentherboutes frameâ€" work, and a emaill writine desk. in a If it is to be set, she can spread the cloth and place the dishes as and quickâ€" ly as the most maid. Bnrxm little bower is in the front yard. It is a little arbor, shaded yithvhg.m&fltbm- hthleltofflilewh‘p, TORONTO A FARMER‘S TRIALS. e mountains that rise in the backâ€" und, the soft, peaceful wind that ws in every day from the far distant , what is your father‘s ere from Nebrasky This is a net falling off for the fiscal year of 18,000 pensioners. The number of pensioners remaining on the soll on June 30 last was the smallest since 1893. O0a January 1, 1905, there were 1,004,196, the largest in the history of the bureau. During the year the loss by death of survivore of the civil war was 31 201. The annual value of the pension roll on June 30, 1907, was $140,850,880, which was $4,613,131 greater than it was or the corresponding date of 1906. The marked increase in the annual value of the roll over the year 1906, notwithâ€" standing the decrease im number of pensioners, is due to the pxn- granted unde. the act of February‘6, 1907, at the higher rates provided by that act. The names of three women, hxhn of revâ€" olutionary war soldiers, remain on According to the annual report of the United States Commissioner of Pensions the number of pensioners on the roll was on June 30 of this year 967,371. fleet to sail for the Pacific. In addition to this, it says, there are strange stories of great activity on the part of the War and Nary Department officials stationed in Manila. Ordnance is being hurried to the Philippine Islands, while in Califorâ€" nia, Washington and Oregon the officers and men of the army are working overâ€" time in an effort to put the forts and batteries into effective condition. _ It wants to know the truth about the sitâ€" uation; what secret information is in the possession of the Government or what suspicions it entertains. On the other hand, we have alarmist reports of Japan‘s hburried and extensive war preparations, Are all these reports mere figments of the imagination, or are both powers preparing for a struggle for the supremacy of the Pacific?t The Washington Herald wants to know what‘s up. Following the trouble in San Francisco came the order for the vodiferation, A â€" dignified â€" reticence would have been much better for all conâ€" cerned." . He owed that to the country, and perhaps now that he must see the folly of executive buncombe we shall probably hear less of the "big stick." The New York Post‘s rebuke of Presiâ€" dent Roosevelt‘s course in contributing to the financial uncertainty and strinâ€" gency by his speeches for political effect is dignified and moderate and should have effect, lt says: "The mistake he bas made, in our judgment, in most of his spoeeches this summer, is that of stirâ€" ring up excitement where he @hould have left it to quict down,. No sensiâ€" ble man asked him to retract anyâ€" thing. _ It was not necessary to anâ€" mnounce any change of policy, That the President would enforce the law should have been taken for granted. There was, in fact, no call for all the vociferation, A â€" dignified reticence Robert N. Qarson, a Philadelphia milâ€" liopaire, who died suddenly last week, has left in his will a provision for a $5,â€" 000,000 home for orphan girls near that city, the bequest to become efiefljve after the death of his widow. The Unitâ€" ed States millionaires show up well with their benefactions,. _ Similar bequests have been made this year. Anna T. Jeanes, also of Philadelphia, left a milâ€" lion dollars to aid in organizing «chools for negro children. C, R. Gallard, of Beattle, has given a million and a hbaif for a home for aged, and Mrs. Russell Bage, $125,000 as a fund for the assistâ€" ance of indigent females, and. nearly $500,000 has been given in emaller sums for similar purposes. Canada receives many good examples of this kind from the Etates. Too few of them are copied. eaÂ¥d be mined in England at a cost of one life per thousand, the rate ought rot to be 3.4 per 1,000 in the States. Over two thousand lives were lost in coal mining in the States last year, acâ€" ecording to the Geological Survey, and nearly five thousand persons received greater or less injuries. Noting this the Philadelphia Record says that if coal CyRREHY Qp CVR / & 4 Ece es of the "big stick 'C