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~â€" "CALADIA® BEGIN HERE TOâ€"DAY. The marriage of Dolly and Nige! Bretherton proves unharpj. When war is declared, Nige! is glad to eniist. He leaves Dolly under the care of Mary Furnival. Nifl is killed and Dolly marries an old sweetheart and sails for. America with him. ; . 400 marmage T EVCF CCC meill d ues E Bretherton proves unhappy. When| "If you will tell me your addreéss, 1 ‘l'l" 1is dec‘.a.;edl,xNigeldi: gr?g to emilt‘. will write to you." e leaves Dolly under t care 0 «e J w I am g:ll"y Furnival. Ni‘f'l u:hlelhg lnng ‘vnfgu wiit forget to when k ly marries an old sweetheart & B w P sails for,. America with him. ‘ I w:)l not. I promise I will see you When Nige!‘s brother, David calls | again. Lax to see Nige\‘s widow, Mary is u‘ume.d He took a littie pocketbook from to tell kim of Dolly‘s marriage. David | his coat, tore out a fyleaf and wrote mistakes Mary for his brother‘s wife) something on it. and takes her to live at Red Grang®! «ypy promise me? You will keep with his aunt. rour promise*" * .\lar)\v is hngpy in her ncwhbon:o ® “Y:s n Cz ntil Mont 1 s her to * Dasit Mary uns away, She meets|_ Sho did not even glance at what he an acquaintance namej Evans, who|had written. She put it away in a tels hor that David is searching for |litt‘o bag she carried, hor. â€" Mary becomes frightened ahad | "And now I must say goodâ€"bye." thinks David is very angry. | She shook hands with him hurried‘y. Mar)\vl is halgpyh in her ncwhbon:e "',‘,'Ye's‘,‘,"””' w until Mont isher ex s her to L F David. .\laryy runs .w:j-‘.’o“sm meets| _ She did not even g.ance at what he an acquaintance named Evans, who | had written. She put it away in & tols hor that David is searching for |litt‘e bag she carried, hor. Mary becomes frightened &@Ad| "And now I must say goodâ€"bye." thinks David is very angry. * ' She shook hands with him hurried‘y.. NOW GO ON WITH THE STORY. |Ske was anxious to be rid of him yow. No doubt h> cow.4 be just as harsh ‘She stepped off the path without lookâ€" and sovere as that ancestor of his who|ing where she was going, to cross the had turned a woman and child into road. It was very dark just where the snow to die. they were standing. She neveg saw a Sh: shivered a little. taxicab bearing swiftly down upon Evars okeod up. The drawan, strainâ€" ther, ti.l Evans shouted. t A ad look on her face went to his heart.|â€" "Look out!" ~and then; . "Oh,â€"my "Wh neked. To drink a cup is a revelation. Tryit. ha‘f to herse‘f. For the momen,. she had forgot‘en his presence; she was back again in the moonlight with David, listening to his voice: "Â¥You reed never be afraid of meâ€" whatever happens." Had he really meant that? and if »o, why had she not had the courage to take him at his word, and make a «&an breast of the who‘e miserabie deeeption? He might Lave forgiven h: ke m‘zht bave found it in h to ma wulsed tremulou "You won‘t te.l him you saw me. Oh, prom‘is> that you won‘t teli Kim!‘ "I wi l promise anything you wishâ€" anything." Sh»> thanked him brokenly. There were tears in her eyes, but she brushâ€" ed them determinedly away. What a strarge turn of the wheel of Fate this was, that had brought them all together again! Wou‘d she ever really be safe from discovery" She loved David, but she dreaded his anger. She wou‘d rather have died, she tood herse‘f, than face him now. She had let her coffes get cold. Evans gont‘y drew her attention to it. She.drar‘c it of hurried‘y. She was glad when they were out in the night again. It was past eight o‘clock then ; whe stopped at the end of the road. Discover For Yourself wil ‘ot me see you again " She bositated; she wanted to say "No," but his peading eyes checked the refusal After all, he had been good to her, But now CHAPTER LVIIL. IN HOSPITAL "I must be getting back. Don‘t think e ruds if I ask you not to come with "Butâ€"I sha‘l see you again? You There‘s a Treat for you and your children in the Peppermint sugar jacket .nd‘mo(her in the PQPP“‘ HIJS BRoHELR 6 GREEN TEA .. UMeraitien l T dn tinecss. ~Abiiiiniven n $0C+ dn ... â€"Aavored gum inside. of course t te‘:l him you saw me that you won‘t tell Kim! mise anything you wishâ€" 1 up. The drawan, strainâ€" face went to his beart. it did you te‘ll him?" she Sh irse not." She spoke For the moment she YY A4 JA by rupy _ayBFES pang of fear conâ€" ooked at Evans Nt cdcus d Advndl css e ts Utmost value iM â€" «;s me dead? Do you think she is long Laâ€"sâ€"tinâ€"g Jsa2d°" e o PcC NOSL | e en IAram veitaiiine then ;| heart | and she bad‘y wanted a friend. tried to temporize. COW. He made .a dash forward to 'sr.t,ufi‘ her back, but it was too late. Mary was only conscious of a confusion of shouts and noises, and flashing lights,| and a dul!, sickening pain, before she went . downâ€"downâ€" b.ackness. Evans was out in Evans was out in the road in ani instant, and knee.ing beside Mary‘s prostrate figure. «â€"A She was lying on her backâ€"one arm | bent beneath herâ€"her face upturned. | A crowd gathered instant‘y. â€"It is remarkable where the people come | from when an accident occurs. A moâ€", ment since the road had seemed cur-; jously empty of pedestrians; but! nowâ€" Young Evans leoked round, with a sort of impatient anger at the crowd of curious faces staring at the | unconscious woman. | A policeman had arrived, and he was making the usua: copious notes; the taxiâ€"driver had left the wheel of: his car, and was standing, pale and shaken, on the curb. ze h: | "She stepped right off the path under the cab," he said, over and over |again, agitatedy. "I sounded me horn, but she never looked where she was coming. it weren‘t my fault, now, r.-:m;a i;_ilary Furrival." He hesilatâ€" ted, then added : "I haven‘t seen her for "Iook out!" And then: "Oh, me and address." Evans looked confused. "I Con‘t know her addr o# dn 199 " He hesitatâ€" she is living." ‘«She".l have to go along to the hosâ€" pital." Capable hands lifted her "imto the taxi. Evans watched them unhappi‘y. They seemed to hand‘e her so roughly, he thought, with a little shrinking pain in his kind heart. He was reâ€" Meved when the policsman, told him he must come along, too. He held her hand during the short ride to the hosâ€" 1 e d L# EVAIVUE AERERRETE P C CC pital Once! when the guardian of the law was looking the other way, he bent his head and gentiy kissed it. Supposing she were dead! Or sup posing she were to die!~ He cou‘.d not bear to think of it. He wondered what David Bretherton would say, could he E gig. a5. d haey s Pc4 ds h. 14 saais tds s 4o ied ty know. He knew that it was his duty to tell him, and yetâ€"there was someâ€" thing so sweet in knowing that for the moment, at least, he was Mary‘s only In the hospital they took her from him. People came and asked him a string of questions. The bare cleanâ€" liness of the building got on his nerves; he wou‘d hate to die in a hosâ€" pitaiâ€"he hated the idea of leaving Mary here amongst strangers. 2. . sn on C o They left him alone in a small waitingâ€"room . for what seemed an eternity. Presentiy a young man who looked like a student came back to him. â€" He held something in his hand. «WA found this on Miss Furnival," "Wa found this on Miss Furnivai,. he said. "There is an address writâ€" ten at the back. Do you «suppose it is her own address, or wou‘ld it be the address of her relatives. ‘ He held a litt‘e locket to Eyans. 3 The young man took it hesitatingly. The case was opened, and a roughly printed amateur portrait of David Bretherton looked up at him from beâ€" lneath the oval glass. & es ‘us He turned it ower mechanicaily. A> the back was written: _‘ ""Taken at the Red ‘Grange, Selâ€" Lmont." | For a moment he did not speak. His rmind was in a whirl, a bitter ‘feeling of jealousy was stabbing his heart. i She must care for David then, er | she wou‘ldn‘t be wearing his portrait. | He raised his eyes to those of the man watching him. h WY ERUEIRATC ) CCICCC "She used to live at the Red Grange, but that is some time ago. Her friendsT have left there now." *s ‘ It was ‘a deliberate lie, and he was bitterly ashamed of it the moment it was uttered. But he wanted so desâ€" peratey badly to have Mary in his care and keeping for a litt‘e longer. If the Brethertons knew where she was, and what had happened, they & y o s o us would come at once an even if only in a spirit ‘iness. Â¥e planation. ‘R "Â¥ou don‘t know if she has a m&hfil; erâ€"or anyone, then?" he asked. ‘ "No,." Evans was glad to be able to answer this question truthfuly, at least. He did not know; he knew noâ€" thing. about her beyond the little she had to:d him and the very litt.e he had inadvertenty discovered. * . WY UMSL M CA gAE ELE C CRRR i op P .04A 6 aabarnicca d m e "Is sheâ€"is sho badly hurt." he askâ€"| ed anxiously. * * * ol The young man shook his head. | * "There "is a sl{ght. concussion and minor injuriesâ€"that is a%l I can tell you at present. If you can, call in the morning." . xB Evans‘ heart sank. _ "You wil ngt let me see her toâ€" night, before I go?" { "I am afraid not. She would not know you, anyway; she is quite unâ€" | conscious." h epntt gerin eP CORRUIUTEY Evans went away unhappy an‘d crestfallon. The lie ho had told about the Red Grange worried him. â€" He was naturaly very straightforward. All the way home he was haunted by the f:sar that Mary wou‘d die. . He wou‘d have to tell, the Bretherâ€" tons then, and they would never forâ€" give him. M He spent a wretched night; he never slept a wink. He was haunted by the memory of Mary‘s white, unconscious face. If she died, he would never forâ€" give himse‘f or be happy again. ta was ~uim â€"with. theâ€" dawn, . and | â€"Upon his friendliness for all the| ‘!flends he will ever have. I | â€"Upon his will efforts for all the‘ \ money he will ever earn. \| |__â€"Upon his ability to serve for bis | true worth to the world. > | | â€"Upon bis cwn prayers if he exâ€" | pects to make the acquaintance of He wasup with (N€ round at the hospital at eary hour. There was no favoral him The young doctor Minard‘s Llpiment for â€"Upon the life of usa{fulness, hot the lines of his pa‘m, for his good forâ€" tune. * & Every Man Must Relyâ€" til this evening; we met . 1 don‘t know at all where was no favorable news for (To be continued.) mechanical‘y. At Neuralgia. eof unfriendâ€" an absurdly the exâ€" FRE Eit T T affillation with Believue and Aliled Hoapitals, New ,York City, cffers a thrse years‘ Cours® of (nlnl-o to youns women, having the required ecucation, and desirous of Lecoming nurase. . This Hossital has adoptcd the eight« hour system. . The pupits réseiva uniforms of the School, a monthly allowanee and traveling expenaes to and from New York. For further information write the Suporintendent, AN ATTRACTIVE BOUFFANT NODEL. ‘ This dainty frock, though simple to make, would be very chic if fashioned of taffeta, moire, or vevet. The twoâ€" piece skirt is gathered to a fitted bodice opening at the left side and the nove use of ribbon, either of matchâ€" ing or contrasting color, gives an addâ€" ed noto of charm. No. 1376 is for aâ€" ‘dies and is in sizes 34, 86, and 38 inches bust: °. Sizc 36 requires, 4% lyardy 39â€"inch material; 2% yards 8â€" in@l ribbon. 20 cents. Mur Fashion Book, illustrating the newest and most practica‘ styles, will be of interest tovevery home dressâ€" tmukcr. Price of the book 10 cents the «py. ‘ l â€"HOW TO ORDER PATTERNS 1 ‘ ‘Write your name and address plainâ€" jy;â€" giving number and size of such lpatterns as you want. Encose 20¢ in stamps or coin (coin preferred; wrap ‘n carefully) for each number and |address your order to Patterm: Dept., | Wilson Publishing Co.. 78 West Ade | iside St.. Tororto Patterns sent by NTARIO ARCHIVES TORONTO ;{um mail 1st Lump of Anthracite didn‘t make a very good hear." a HCOT. nd Lump of Ahthraciteâ€""No, she married a common old Jump of Bituâ€" minous!‘ Dawn came sharp and chill with red t clouds on a faint green sky and drops | of water on every lbeaf.and blade. A| breoze blew over the garden, d‘l'opmi dew aml dropping peta‘s, shivering | over the drenched paddocks, and Was , lost in the sombre bueh. In the saky ; somo tiny stars floated for a moment : en‘ then they were goneâ€"they were | dissolved !ke bubbles. And plain to ‘ be hceard in the ecriy quict was the | sound of the creek in the paddock runâ€" 1 ning over the brown stones, running | , in and out of the saiy holows, hi-:lingi under clumps of dark berry bushes, | \spilling into a swamp of yeliow flowers '. | and cressos. 4 i |!~‘ And then at the firet beam of sun the birds began. Big theeky birds, starlings and minalhs, whistled o% the: tawne, the litt‘e bizds, the goldfinches ind linnetis and fanâ€"tails fiilcked from bough to bough. A lovely kingfisher parched on the zaddock fence preenâ€" ing his rich beauty, end a tui sang his three notes and laughed and sang them egata.â€"From "Prelude," by Katherine Mansfic‘d. . , _A cow‘s‘ hide 'prodneu thirtyâ€"uve pounds of leather;: a borse‘s only NURSES 1376 How Sad. produces thirtyâ€"five 4.4 â€""Miss Coal marriage, 1 x . & _ 2 TD cpctvtenati on Have you ever seen & fleld, unending, Of onions only, out in bloom, The bails of broken snow and stems of silver Thick above blackâ€" muck loamâ€" in‘ the perfect field of a gardenâ€"seed farmer â€" Where not a weed finds room? ;Blossom out and stand Like a bleaching mesh of broken snow ', and silver That a weaver has planned. ‘ 230003 Lc sur Such a feld is as beautiful &as field ever; * More , even its heads than a garden grows; Less fanciful than mustard sh above With its yellowâ€"petfled shows And more orderily, the endless edâ€"up furrows Of undeviating rows Than any other far At the Gates of a Segd Farm. In August I have seen a Cookery nowsday. is as quite so important ¢ was centuries ago; and salarles aro earned by chofs we do not hear 0 being distinguished in were in the days ot_ old. were in UHC BJE MC 2OC In okdien times kings have bowed down before cooks, and after a g004 dinner have granted to them even & part of the kingdom. l William the Conqueror bestowed upâ€" on the inventor of a particularly deu-l clous soup the Lordship of the Manor of Addington, with its revenues an.d1 honors. Henry VIIL gave to a certain _ Mrs. Cornwallis a noble house and tenement in London â€" Sugar Loaf ' Courtâ€"bgcause she had made and preâ€" sented to him some fine puddings; whilo the Emperor Charles V. ghowed his homage to the inventor 0f pickled herrings by making &, pilgrimage to his tomb. Pickled herrings, by the way, were a delicacy» much recomâ€" monded as a stuffing for turkeys. ho anantrask mg? mended as a SUNMNDE MU] *NIIOT*O In the Middle Ages the head cook of a feudal castle was a personagp of conâ€" siderable importance.> He gave his orders from: a chair raised on a platâ€" form, which commanded a view of his «sgubordinates. ‘He held in his hand a large wooden spoon, the insignia of his office. With it he tasted the various dishes designed for his lord‘s table, and with it also, using it as a rod, he corrected the gluttony and idleness of those around him. A good cook will always take his profession with becoming seriousness, but Vatel, a French cook who lived in the ‘geventeenth century, carried his chagrin too far when he . committed suicide because, at a banquet given by the Prince of Conde to the French king, the lobsters ordered for the sauce orlained to be caten with the turbot had not arrived. Ccrcn?v, another iliustrious Frénch cook, received from George IV. a salary of $5,000 a year. In spite of this salary, he resigned »his post at the Court .of England because, like many another artist, he could not bear the cold abhd gloomy English climate. Minard‘s Liniment for Colds Workmen excavating . near Lake | Zurich bhave unearthed the remains of Lake dwellings which date back to the Stone Age, more than 7,000 years ago. Stone axes, spears, and domestic utenâ€"| sils are among the objects found. The Swiss lake dwellers were reâ€" vealed to the world in 1853 by a great drought, when the waters in the lakes, and rivers of the country fell many feet below normal level, and so far as is known they are unique of their kind . in Europe. The structures which supâ€" ported the wooden platforms on which the dwellings were bullt are made of: strong piles of, tree trunks drivn into the bottom of the lake. + A combination of clay and wood | was used in the construction of the | lake huts, and the floors of the huts |\ which were above the water line were ’m.do of large slibs of stone bearing inscriptions of the Stone Age in hieroâ€" 1‘l.yphl.. o & When Kings Bowed to Perhape. "Two cows is in the field," said a teacher to a Class of boys, indicating the writing on the blackboard. "Now, that sentence is wrong. Can any boy te!l me why*" m(-)fie youhyte-r sought to help her out of the difficulty: "P‘raps cne of them are a calf, miss!" he suggested. Europe‘s First Houses. Natanw‘s Aid to Levelines wadays is not regarded mportant @& matter as it s ago; and though huge earned by some famous not hear of any of them _ L.l.4 in tha way they Itaiian petaled shows ; iv,. the endless matchâ€" farm~ shows Vt;eblter Merrichew mile of onions showering a formeal &1 oat elp her _ a 0#A o Dy > t «* Only One Dye == tints like This! CC oi â€" Rmso Autumn is passing winds Even now, with ne:s Llow; King } The troes But we "Tis we‘ll that seasors thus . snOou!Id come and go, And summer skies give place to those of grey, Just as we find that tears and sorrows add More value to the joys of yesterday. is one of woman‘s Your d;ctot will tell you the oldâ€"fashioned washâ€"day *A farmer hurried to chase & small boy out of his wood lot, where the youngzter was picking posies. "What are you going to do with those flowers? he called. on the ancient j;:g‘iâ€"; -nwc'rves" and short tempersâ€"all come from the everlasting rubâ€"rubâ€"rubbing "They‘re wild ones, aren‘t they?" reâ€" plied the boy. "Yes, butâ€"" "Well, I just thought I‘d like to give a fe-v'v_';( them i good home." The modern way is to let Rinso do the work. Change the hard work of washing to just rinsing. Simply dissolve Rinso in the washâ€"water, put in the clothes, soak for 2 hours or more and just rinse,. |_Don‘t stop with tinting, though! It‘s | just as essy to Diamond Dye almost | anything you wearâ€"or the hangings {â€"4a the bomeâ€"â€"a brand new color right over the old. Home dyeing is lots of ‘ funâ€"and think of what it saves! ing Frost will soon take charge of mother earth And change her garb to that of ice The it we remain tbhrough dreary months to dream F Of sunny days in former saummer 40 give your dainiy underwear and tiochings trwe lints, you musti use real dye. For the gorgecus tinting like you seo in things when they are new, use the origlae} Diamond Dyes. Strained backs, ugly hands, Let Rinso do your next Made by the makers of Lux. and snow Autumn is Passing. long decayed, birds have taken their songs to warmer climes. + times lue to the joys of yesterday â€"George Beattie gre bare, the flowers are Offering Sheiter. with chilling wintry keen seasons thus â€" should on and icy northern There is a notilon that as we get on in yours we are robbedâ€"of charm, One need only to notice the advortisements about "Don‘t grow old," "»Cures for grey hairs," "Resist the wrinkles," angd «o on, to realize the dread that exists in many minds with the passing of our days. It is more or jes$ YAMIAD, 1277 0 M son #hould grow MAner, more mellow, with the addition of years. Maturity and peace should reign together. D â€" mo® B@mons se sald PERRE ME IUReALY S coun A imisused life breeds an old age of despair and sorrow; but where noâ€" bill:L of thought and feeling have been culttvated there must certainly follow a sweetness that is attractive to all. You have noticed how Nature gots more glorious in the autumn, always a season of joy, because of the magâ€" nificence of the colors. It seems As though Nature make a supreme effort io wind up ber year‘s labor with a imcjesdc panorama . of marvellous beauty. She is lovelier as she gets ‘older.- Laces and ivory and gold and SVRS Need not be new. And there is h in old trees, " Old streets and glamour old; Why may not I as well as these Grow lovely growing old * . , Nothing is more saddening than to find a man who set out in life with buoyant hopes and enthusiastic deâ€" lights and desires becoming a cynic, \because in the battle of life he has |.not gained what he aimed for. Such | people become jealous, unsympathetic, ‘and miserable, ugly both in spirit and ‘mctlun. The features become gnarled and marked, and the older they grow "the more cut off are they from interest in their fellows. | We have all heard that "a cheerful ‘mind is the best face cream." That truth is as old as the hills. The addiâ€" tion of years to those of cheerful mind does not detract from them in any way; and it nwmpli’eu their friends. ‘Their presence is as the breath of Afresh air.. â€"â€"~ Nature is jeast arresting in midsumâ€" mer; in spring and autumn she dons her most beauteous robes. And life ghould be the same. Never permit things to ge so much on the top of you that your vitality becomes drained for no purpose. One of We are guilty too often of wasting our _ substance _ with . unproftable thoughts and deeds. By storing the life and mind with noble thoughts and feelings, ambitions and hopes, o this essence of the beautiful will make us more comely as we get farther from birth. . You may conclude that an aged perâ€" son who has become withored in spirit, and fretful and tartalizing, has gone astray somewhere,. Where a life has been linved in open contact with the illuminating powers, such life becomes a power to illuminate also. Our journey through life should be progressive. _ Our education . shouid never be complete. Our castles should never come to earth! The sun shouid always be in front of us, causing the shadows to fall behin}. lvery day and in every way lot us try to grow better. â€" Thus shall wa be led into green' pastures and by stili wators, and age thall not add to the burdomns of life Befin island, which lies immediateâ€" ly to the north of Hudson Strait, is at present a field of investigation by the Geological Survey of Canada. Dr L. J. Weeks and an assistant wore landed during the summer on this island from the Canadian government boat making Bafiin island is the largest and probâ€" ably the most important of the Arotic jslands. . It bas an area of 211,000 square miles. Observation made along the part of the coast that has been exâ€" plored show that it is underiain by rocks of Precambrain and Palaeozoic uge and to less extent probably by T‘eflhry eediments. &sma.!} tonnage of graphite and mica has been -hl;?pod from the southern part of the island and at Pond Inlet :n the northern part a small quantity of coal is mined. The coal, according to Dr. Weeks who visited the place in 1924, is well exposed in & cliZ on Saimon river, and is regarded as of Tertiary age. Two Anain seams each 3% foet thick and 16 foet apart ane found. It is the coal from the jlower seam that is being utllized by the Hudson‘s Bay Comâ€" !puy. When freshly dug it breaks inâ€" to irregwlar lamps which are dull black with here and there a bright surface, and which phow nething re rembling a cleavage pano, After beâ€" ‘ing sacked and left some months in the open it shows a tendency to crumâ€" ble. The crumbling is not so great as in the coal from the upper seam. An airdried sample gave on anailysis: moisture, 14.2 per cent.; ash, 5.0 per cent.; volatile, 23.4 per cent.; fixed carboun, 57.4 per cent.; calorifis value, ‘10,300 British thermal units. Geological Work on Baffin A second expodure occurs at a point a mile downstream on the Saimon river from that referred to above, from whick quantities of coal have been obâ€" our English poets writes or less vanity, for a perâ€" lovely growing old; re things do. ry and ¢old and «ilks (AN