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"Karovsky, you wrong me: My love of my fellows is as ardent as ever it was. _Mrâ€"â€"â€" But why prolong a discussiont that could serve no good ifffinaintn $s dica d aca dn 004 "Pardon. But can it be?*ossihle that I am listening to one who, only eight short years ago, was saturated with philanthropic ideas which seemed exâ€" rnsivo enough to include the whole uman raceâ€"one whose great longing was that every man should be free and harpy tâ€"Ah, yes, you are the sameâ€" only time and the world have contrived to spoil you, as they spoil so many others. In those days you were poor; now you are rich. Then you had no fixed home ; you *vere a wanderer from city to city ; your future was clouded and uncertain. Now, you are the wealthy Mr. Brookeâ€"a pillar of your countrg; this grand old mansion and all the broad acres, for I know not how far around it, are yours. â€" You are married to one whom you love, and who loves you in return. Away, then, with the wild motions of our hot ’o“_t_h !Ol + WELLL s OCV WPEDICEAOrneCEE ALE ELG philanthrop{. has, since thit time, been stained by crimes which make me shudder when I think of themâ€"has dragged its colors through shambles reekm'g with the blood of those who have fallen victims to its blind and ferocious .notions of revenge." 7 “Parlglon. . _ But can it be possible that mmy Baefsufll ko _2 1 T "The world does not stand still. One naturall{ knows more toâ€"day than one did eight years ago." 1 ‘"Karovsky, I know thisâ€"that the Cause, which, when I joined it, I beâ€" lieved to be so pure in its aims, so_lofty in its ideas, so allâ€"embracing in its philanth_rop,.k has, since thit time, hamaw s#ail 2 ces S w ! tate. Hoe got up, crossed the room to one of the winaows, looked out for hali a minute, then went back and resumed his seat. "Eight years have come and gone, Gerald Brooke," he began in an |mÂ¥ressivo tone, "since you aliied yourâ€" self by some of the most solemn oaths yossible for a man to take that Sacred Vause to which I also have the honor f being affiliited." ‘"Do you thin« 1 have forgotten! At that time I was an impetuous and enâ€" thusiastic boy of eighteen, with no knowledge of the world, save what 1 had gathered from books, and with a bead that #was full of wild, vagua dreams of Liberty and Universal Brotherhood." Th ‘"‘The fact of your becoming 0: Us is the best of all proofs tha cause of Liberty at that time was to your heart " "But when as a boy Cause, I was ignorant of learned since that time.‘ Karovsky drew up a chair. "As you sayâ€"1 am not here without a motive," he remarked. ‘Then, with a quick exâ€" pressive gesture, which was aitogethâ€" er unâ€"Engiish, ae added: "Ab, bah! L feel like a bird of illâ€"omen that has winged its way into taradise with a message from the nether world." "Whatever your message may be, pray do not hesitate to deiiver it." But urparemly the Russian did hesiâ€" tate. He got up, crossed the room to one of the winaows, looked out for hali a wife," he said, as he lounged across the room with his hands in his pockets, after closing the door behind Mrs Brooke. "But Fortuns has been kind to you in more ways than one." ‘"Karovsky, you have something to tell me," said Brooke a little grimly. ‘"You did not come here to pay comâ€" pliments, nor without a motive. But will you not be seated ?" M. Karovsky was a tall, wellâ€"built man, to all appearance some few years over thirty in point of age. His short black bair was parted carefuily down the middle ; his black eyes were at once piercing and brilliant; he had a long and rather thin face, a longish nose, a mobile and flexible mouth, and a parâ€" ticularly fine arrangement of teeth. He wore neither beard nor moustache, and his complexion had the faint yelâ€" low tint of antique ivory. He was not especially handsome; but there was something striking and out of the comâ€" mon in his appearance, so that people who were introduced to him casualiy in society wanted to know more atout him. _ An enigma is not without its attractions for many people, and Karâ€" ovsky had the air of being one whether bhe was so in reality or not. He was a born linguist, as so many of his counâ€" trymen are, and spoke the chief Europâ€" ean languages with almost equal fluâ€" ency and equal purity of accent. "Fortune has been kind to you, my friend, in finding for you so charming Karovsky hastened to open the door for her, and bowed low as she swept out of the room. t + ‘"That man is the bearer of ill news, and Gerald knows it," was the young wife‘s unspoken thought as she left the two together. *"Merci, madame," responded the Rusâ€" sian, for such he was. "I should be deâ€" lighted, if the occasion admitted of it ; but, as 1 said before, my time is limited. I mugst leave London by the nightâ€"mail. I am due in Paris at ten p‘clock toâ€"morrow." "For the present, then, I must ask you to excuse me," said Clara. "May we hope to have the pleasure of Monsieur Karovsky‘s company to dinner ?" asked Clara in her most gracâ€" ious manner, while at the same time boping in her heart that the invitaâ€" tion would not be accepted. "Not long. I am a bird of passage. I come and go, and obey the orders that are given me. . That is all." "My wife, Mrs. Brooke. _ But you bave seen bher already.â€"Clara, Monâ€" sieur Karovsky is a gentleman whose «cquaintance I had the honor of makâ€" ing during the time I was living broad." "You are indeed, Karovsky," reâ€" sponded Gerald as he shook his visitor‘s proffered hand, but with no great show of cordiality.â€""Have you been long in England t* CHAPTER IV. "Pardon. I hope I do not intrude?"* said M. Karovsky, addressing himself to Mrs. Brooke with the suave assurâ€" ance of a thorough man of the world. "I saw through the window that Mr. Brooke had returned, and as my time bere is limitedâ€"me voici." _ Then adâ€" vancing a few steps and bolding out bhis hand to Gerald, be added: "It is five years, mon ami, since we last met. Confess now, I am one of the last men in the world whom you! thought to see here t" ‘ A DEAD RECKONING hin« 1 have forgotten! At was an impetuous and enâ€" y of eighteen, with no 1 the world, save what I your becoming one of. all proofs that the a boy I joined the much I have dear Gerald rose and walked to the winâ€" dow. _ His face was pale, his eyes were full of trouble : what he had said had been lacking neither in dignity nor pathos. The Russian‘s cold glance followed him, not without admiration. ‘"Engâ€" lish to the backbone," he muttered under his breath. "It was a blunder ever to allow surh a man to become one of Us." ‘Then he looked at his watch, and started to find it was so late. "I "Then you seal your own deathâ€"warâ€" rant." "So be it. Life at such a price would not be worth having. ‘Death before Dishonor‘ is the motto of our house. Dnsl.x'onor shall never come to it through tai ‘"Von Rosenberg !" ‘"Pardon. _ Did I not mention the name before? But he is the man." mtdiames P ul s\a ‘"Obedience carried to the verge of murder is obedience no longerâ€"it beâ€" comes a crime. . However you may: put it, assassination remains assassination "I should have done it For if there be one man in the world, Brooke, whom I have cause to hate more than another, {)l;at 'man is Baron Otto von Rosenâ€" rg !" noumubicbiafiio®ydunisiitinintieicndhibxteis wrededbid d still." ‘"Pardon. We recognize no such tel“l'lyl in owr yocabulary." gai. ‘"Karovsky, had you been called upon to do this deed"â€"â€" x "Pardon. Might it not be as well, before you express your determination in such emphutic ‘terms, to consider what would be the consequence of a refusal on your part to comply with the instructions of which I have the misfortune to be the ®bearer iâ€"Mrs. Brooke is wery young to be left a widow." "Karovsky !" . "Pardon. _ But that is what it means. _ Any affiliated memker who may be so illâ€"advised as to refuse to car? out the decrees of the Tribunal renders himsell liavle to the extreme penalty ; and so surely as you, Gerald Brooke, are now a living man, so sureâ€" ly, in a few short weeis, should you 'mrsist in your refusal, will your wife )e left a widow." + ‘"This is horribleâ€"most horrible !" ‘"Obedience, blind and unquestioning, the utter abnegation of your individuâ€" ality to the will of your superiors, is the first rule of the Propaganda to which you and I have the honor to beâ€" long. _ But all this you knew, or ought to 'ha.lve known, long ago." iy "Iâ€"Gerald Brookeâ€"whoss ancestors fought at Cressy, to sink to the level of a common assassin? _ Never|" ‘"One of the chief conditions attachâ€" ed to your oath is that of blind and unquestioning obedience." ‘"Karovsky, this is monstrous." "I am sorry that things have fallen out as they have, mon ami; but such be‘i'xllglghe case, there is no help for it.". ‘"No oath can bind a man to become a murderer." ‘"The Bupreme Tribunal have decreed that a certain individual shall suffer the penalty of death. _ You are the person drawn by lot to carry out the sentence." 1 ‘"They would make an assassin of met â€"Never !" ‘"Has been so drawn." The light faded out of Gerald Brooke‘s eyes; a _ deathâ€"like pallor crept over his face; he could scarcely command ‘his voice as for the second time he asked: ‘"What is it that l am called upon to do?" ‘"You are bound by your oath to carry out the behests of the Tribunal, be they what they may." â€" hus usls «e o eLainme en ie cce 0B o es ‘"You are aware that when an indiâ€" vidual is needed to carry out any of the secret decrees of the Supreme Triâ€" :;utn?al. that individual is drawn for by ot ?" Gerald had changed color more than once during the foregoing speech. "What is it that I am called upon to do?" he asked in a voice that was sc‘:;'x"lgely raised above a whisper. _ _ "I have." The man was evidently ill at ease. He rose, crossed to the chimneyâ€"piece, took up one Or tw curios, and examined them through bis eyeglass, then went back and resumâ€" ed his seat. _ "Gerald Brooke," he conâ€"~ tinued, "eight years ago, on a ©°Iâ€" tain winter evening, in a certain unâ€" derground room in Warsaw, and beâ€" fore some halfâ€"dozen men whose faces you were not permitted to see, you, of your own freeâ€"will, took the solemn oath which affiliated you to that great Cause for the *ortherance of which thousands of others have given their fortunes, their lives, their all. From that day till this you have been & PASâ€" sive brother of the Society ; not.hing has been demanded at your hands ; and yOU might almost be excured if the events of that winter night had come at lengih to seem to you little more than a halfâ€" remembered dream. _ That you have not been called before now is no proof that you have been overlooked or forâ€" gotten, but simply that your services ave not Bbeen required. Other inâ€" struments were at hand to do the work that was needed to be done. But at length the day has come to you, Gerald Brooke, as it comes to most men who live and wait." . * end? You have a message for me?" my name"â€"â€" of course slower. Last autumn, with all coal ammunition, and stores aboard, \she steamed not quite 17 knots with forced draught and 16 with natural draught. Thus the French Carnot or | Mariel is faster ; but the latter cannot [nteam as far on their coal capacity. | The Canopus wi h all her coal on board, |displaces 14,400 tons, and is faster than the French ships éust named. The great | weakness of the Canopus is held to be in her defence so that she has someâ€" itimes been called a big armored cruiâ€" ser rather than a battle ship; and on ‘the whole the Pall Mall Gazette preâ€" fers the Majestic to the Canopus as the standard type of battle shiips, and reâ€" commends it for the four new ships. | 2250 of the Canopus, and with 1,850 she displaces over 16,000 tons, and is Besides, when the Majestic made nearly 18 knots she was without her full load of coal. She is able to carry from 1,850 to 2,200 tons against the 2250 of the Canoous, and with 1.850 How the Majestic and Canopus Classes Difâ€" fer in Efficlency, In discussing the four new battle ships to be laid down by the British Admiralty this year, the Pall Mall Gazette observes that the Majestic class and the Canopus class are similar in armament, each carrying four 46â€" ton wire guns and twelve 6â€"inch, but the Canopus has fewer 12â€"pounders, and other guns still smaller. She is also about 2,000 toms lighter than the Maâ€" jestic, or 13,000 against 15,000, and, drawing two feet less, is able to pass through the Suez Canal, which is an important advantage. But the Majesâ€" tic is much more heavily armored. She is not as fast, her speed, under natural draught, being put at not quite 17 knots, and under forced draughts as not quite 18, whereas under natural draught the Canopus steams 18 1â€"4 knots. ‘* Noth ng br ngs on rheumatism.soonâ€" er than damp clothes," remarked Miss Primby sententiously, as she folded down a leaf of her novel, and tucked the volume under her arm. THE NEW ENGLISH BATTLE SHIPS "Then aunt and I will leave fyou. You will not be long? I am so afraid of“y‘('»uAr‘ taking cold. Come, aunt." * Poor fellow ! He certainly does look haggard and dejected," remarked Miss Primby to herself. "Have you been far?" asked Clara. " Only as far as Beaulieu." * You called on the baron, of course." ‘* No, I changed my mind at the last moment." " The first bell will ring in a few minutes." "* I have ome important letter to write before I dress." as he stooped and kissed her. " And your hair and clothes are quite wet." " It is nothing," he answered. "I was caught in a shower in the wood." "Here comes Gerald!" cried Mrs. Brooke,. She started to her feet, while a glad light leapt into her e{ee, and ran out on the terrace to meet him. "What & t'L{ne you ha_ve been away !" she said, "I remember that when the Dean of Rathdrum leaned over the back of ‘lIny chixi‘r, and whispered " My darling ane l"â€"~ men have no right to havo seorets from their wives." "*If he would but confide in me! If he would but tell me what the secret gmoul)}e!is that is slowly eating away is life !" *L wish!ou would not mope so much, and would try not to look quite so miserable," eaid ‘her aunt presently. "How can 1 help feeling miserable, when I know that Gerald has some wnâ€" happy secret on his mind, of which he tells me nothing ? He has been a changâ€" ed man ever since the visit of M. Karâ€" ovsky. He cannot eat, he cannot rest; n‘ght and day he wanders about the house and grounds like a man walking in his sleep." " Bad signs, very, my dear. Married Clara crossed the room, and sat down on a low chair near the window, whence she could catch the first glimpse of her busband as he came round the clump of evergreens at the corner of the terâ€" "If I were to go on playing, aunt, do you think that you could finish your dream ?" "* No, my dear, it‘s gone, and the chances are that it will never return," said the spinster with a sigh. _ ‘At this juncture Miss Primby awoke. ‘"My dear Clara, what a pity you did not keep on playing," she said. "I was in the midst of a most lovely dream. I thought I was about to be married; my wreath and veil had been sent home and I was just about to try them on ; when you stopped playing and 1 awoke." Ten weeks had come and gone since the memorable visit of M. Karovsky to the master of Beechly Towers. lt was a pleasant evening towards the end of June. There had been a heavy showâ€" er a little while ago; but since then the clouds had broken; and the sun was now drawing westward in a blaze of glory. In the sa.meipleasant mornâ€" ingâ€"room, in which we first made their acquaintance, Mrs. Brooke and her aunt, Miss Primby, were now sitting. The latter was dozing in an easyâ€"chair with a novel on her lap, the former was seated at the piano playing some plaintive air in a minor key. The glad light, the light of happiness that knew no cloud, which shone from her eyes when we saw her first, dwelt there no longer. She looked pale, anxious, and distraite, like one who is a prey to some hidden trouble. She had spokâ€" en no more than the truth when she said that her happiness was too perâ€" fect to last. ‘As the last sad note died away unâ€" der her fingers she turned from the instrument. "I cannot playâ€"I canâ€" not workâ€"I cannot do anything," she murmured under her breath. At that moment the door oFened. and Mrs. Brooke, on the point of entering the room, paused suddenly as her eyes took in the ssene before her. "Gerald !" she exclaimed in a frifiht.ened voice, and then her gaze travelled from her husband to Kgarovsky. The latter, with his eyes still resting on the bowed figure at the table, pronounced in low clear accents the one word, "Rememâ€" ber!" Then he bowed low to Mrs. Brooke, and next moment was gone. can stay no longerâ€"I must go," he said aloud. "But remember my last warning words." He took up his hat and moved slowly towards the window. ‘"Karovsky, for the last time I solâ€" emnly declare that this man‘s death shall not lie at my door!" _ Gerald sank into a chair, let his elbows rest on the table, and buried his face beâ€" tween his hands. t "I have nothing more to say," reâ€" marked #the Russian. He stepped through the window, his hat in his hand, and then turned. S (To Be Continued.} TORONTO It has been our practice for years to feed to all cows giving milk a small grain ration all summer. The advisabilâ€" ity of feeding grain on pasture, after the grass has come to have plenty of substance in it, may, with some show of reason be questioned, but not so in the spring. At that time it is folly not to feed. We have experimented to some extent to try to determine what rain food was best to feed on pasture. %Ne have tried wheat bran, but many cows do not seem to care for it much, when the grass is plentg, and some will refuse to eat it. They seem to crave something more _ concentrated. Corn and oats they liked much better than bran, and clear corn meal better yet; but, best of all, gluten feed. Now, what we think is the very best feed for cows on pasture, is five pounds of corn meal and gluten feedâ€"half and halfâ€" daily, to each cow giving a fair flow of milk. Besides this, they should have before them, every time they are put in the stable to milk, some good early up his account at the end of the year, he will find that for every dollar‘s worth of extra feed his cows had while on fresh grass he bas received back at least two dollars. FEEDING COWS ON PASTURE. Very soon, now, warm weather will come, and, the soil being well filled with moisture, the grass in the pasture will start up and make rapid growth. When it gets up so as to provide a good bite, the farmer will turn out his cows. He will think, says Hoard‘s Dairyman, beâ€" _cause the cows can get grass enough to "fill themselves," and because the flow of milk increases, there is no need of feeding hay or grain any more. â€" The truth is that this fresh and succulent grass stimulates the production of milk beyond what the nutriment it contains will warrant. t is juicy and watery and lacks substance tro such a degree that this large production of milk will rapidly reduce the strength, vitality and carcess of the cow, so that she canâ€" not long continue this extra flow _ of milk, unless she has some more _ subâ€" stantial food to go with this fresh grass, to keep her up in condition. The farmer makes a great mistake when he abruptâ€" ly drops off his hay and grain feed as soon as the cows go out to grass in the spring. He would probably see very litâ€" tle difference in the amount of milk given for awhile, whether he fed grain and hay with the grass or not, and for that reason may have come to the conâ€" clusion that when they did feed grain on early pasture, it was thrown away, and they received no benefit from it. But the one who does so feed will find that his cows will keap up _ their strength and condition much better than those not fed, and later in _ the summer and fall and even the next winter will be giving a much better flow of milk, so that when he comes to foot FOOD FOR LAMBS. A contributor to American Sheep Breeder says: Let us first consider the mother. From her the lamb gets, by all odds, the most important, the most inâ€" dispensable part of his food. She diâ€" gests the crude, raw food stuffs in her large stomach and prepares the concenâ€" trated, easily digested and perfect mothâ€" er‘s milk. In the abundance and reguâ€" larity of this supply of milk depends your hopes of good lambs. You must feed ‘the mother generously, yet, the food must be of the right sort to be turned readily into milk, and this brings us to consider what milk is made of and why. Not to go specifically into details, the milk is very rich in nitrogenous maâ€" terials, in what we call protein. This protein is the stuff that muscle and brainâ€"stuff and nerveâ€"stuff and blood is made of. It is exactly what the young animal needs to make his frame grow and build up his young tissues. Now to produce this milk in abundance the ewe must be fed foods that have in them the elements of milk. They must be foods that are somewhat rich in protein. Of course, there is fat in milk, and the animal system burns a good deal of carâ€" bon, so we don‘t want a food free from the starchy principles that are made of carbon yet, for milk production, you do need a greater proportion o‘ protein to starchy food or fatâ€"forming foods than if you were fattening the mother. This bars out the large use of corn in the diet. Corn will not make miilk satâ€" is{factorily, no matter in what amounts it be fed. I have tried it by keeping ewes on full diet of corn, with clover hay, too, but the lambs did not generally thrive. I did not expect them to thrive, I was fattening their mothers for sale. Now there are any number of combinaâ€" tions of foods that will be good for the ewe, but we will consider what is easiâ€" est and cheapest to you. Mix up the folâ€" lowing mixture, by weight: 100 lbs. cornmeal, 100 lbs. wheat bran, 25 lbs. oilâ€" meal; shovel it over until well mixed, then give the ewes a little of it. Each day increase the amount that you give them until they have all that they will eat; then I would make a selfâ€"feeder, if 1 were you, and let them run to it all the time; they like to eat little and often; they will not eat too much while suckâ€" Ing their lambs after once accustomed to it._ It is true that they will rapidly gain in flesh sometimes when fed this ration.. Well, if not too valuable, keap up the food for a few weeks or less, after the lambs are sold and sell the mothers, too. Now the lambs will be getting what mil!{ their mothers are capable of proâ€" ducing, yet they will soon want to be eating themselves. I know of no better food for them than this same mixture that I have advised for the ewes. Let them have all that they will eat of it, and they and their mothers will want clover hay of the best, and in abundâ€" _ance, too. Have it so that they can all %et it, but not get on it with their dirty ittle feet. A lamb is more dainty about his eating than a baby. To have the lambs do their bast they must be alâ€" lowed to eat at their table, in a se;parate pen from the ewes, so that whenever they feel hungry there will be nothing to prevent their eating in peace. There ought to be plenty of sunlight, too, in which they can lie and sleep. Some way or other you must see that they aro perâ€" fectly happyâ€"no fear, no disturbance, no awakening from sleep, no dog running through them, no hunger unsatisfied, no thirst unassuaged. It is the happy lamb that grows and causes your bank accourt to grow, I think that lambs that are to spend their lives on the farm rather than coming to an early death at the butcher‘s block will need quite a differâ€" ent treatment from the one outlined above. 1 would not feed nearly so strong; would like the ewe to do her best in milkâ€"giving, but the lamb had better have but little corn, if any. PRACTICAL FARMING. Geo. Seales, a Wellâ€"Known Contractor of Niafara Falls, Completely Reâ€" stored by the Great South Ameriâ€" can Kidney Cureâ€"Thousands More Can Bear the Same Testimony. I was a great sufferer for years | with acute kidney disorder and pain in my sides. Whan almost all othepr | known remedies had been fairly tried j’and had failed, I was advised to taka South American Kidney Cure. One bottle did me so much good 1 purâ€" | chased two more. I am now com,pfele- \ly restoredâ€"feel better than 1 have for {[ivee‘years. It‘s a great oure ; will give |relief in six bhours, and I delight in reâ€" commending it to others. ] For sale by McFarlane & Co.. DRUMMERS‘ EXPERIENCOES. First Drummerâ€"Ofh the Atlantic & Pacific Railroad a few days ago a locoâ€" motive lost its smokestack in a colâ€" lision. Well, sir, they just stuck a barâ€" rel over the hole and went right along as if nothing had happened. 1 Second Drummerâ€"That reminds me of an accident that happened to a train I was on recently. The engine jumped the track and was smashed all to flindâ€" ers; but in five minutes we were moyâ€" ing along toward the next station, where we arrived only a liitle late, 1 Humph! How could that be? | We got out and walked. Take skimâ€"milk that has jJust begun to thicken;, add to one gallon of milk, 8 pints of coarse prime salt; also add iron brown or Venetian red in the dry form, enough to make the color you wish. The dry paint can be bought for three or four cents per pound. Keep the mixture well stirred all the time; put it on the buildings when there is no danger of rain; after it is once dry it will not wash off. Be sure to use this amount of salt, and keep well stirred, as it is the salt well mixed that keeps it from rubbing off. A CHEAP PAINT. While whitewashed buildings _ look very nice when first done, they â€" soon become gray looking and often discolâ€" ored from the trees that frow near. Redâ€"wash looks just as well, if not betâ€" ter, as il does not show ali the spots, and it is just as durable. Afler doing the buildings twice, once in two years is suffi ient to keep the buildings lookâ€" in; well How mu hi &dos to thelo ks oi a farm to have the buildings niseiy painted up, and it costs but littleâ€"only time and labor. cut clover hay. They will eat some evâ€" ery time, no matter how good the pasâ€" ture is. Lumber, Shingles and Lath always In Stock. Having Completed our New Factory we are now prepared _ to FILL ALL ORDERS PROMPTLY, We keep in Stock a large quantity of Sash, Doors, Mouldings, Flooring and the differâ€" ent Kinds of Dressed Lumber for outside sheeting. Our Stock of DRY LUMRE is very Large so that all orders can be filled. Sash and Door Factory. DRS,. KENNEDY & KERGAN, ~ Are you a victim? Have you lost hope? Are you contemplating mar.â€" REA DER ! riage? Has your Blood bren amamJ? Have you an mm Our New Method Treatment will cnre you, What it has done for others i’t will do for you, CONSULTATION FREE. No matter who has treated you, write for an honest opinion Free of Charge. Charges reasonable. BOOK$ FREE â€" "The Golden Monitor®" (illastrated), on Diseases of Men. Inclose bo-ture. 2 cents. Sealed. P°NO NAMES UsED WITH8UT WRITTEN CONSENT. PRIâ€" VATE. No medicine s nt C. O. No names on boxes or anve!. opes. Everything confidential. Amacy11, 1,, M POoxes or enve! °0 Rewaks e aGZ DR OOE PPRTITT, € ©0008, Pouted, U °NO NAMES UsED W|l"l“.l-|8UT WRITTEN CONSENT. PRIâ€" VATE. No medicine s nt C. O. No names on boxes or anve!. opest. El_\{%iythlng confidential. Questlon list and cost of Treat= ment, + EL V Mhor ts‘ i indvetts®"st P Prisstt P Setctciitstatci Th is 4 d l a 4 c Weakness, Gleet, Stricture, Syphilis, Unnatural Disc Kidney and Bladder Diseases. 17 YEARS IN DETROIT. 200,000 CURED ‘"The vices of early boyhood laid the foundation of m ruin. Later on a "‘gay life" and exposure to blood dl’- seases completed the wreck. I had all the symptoms of Nervous Debilityâ€"sunken eyes, emissions, crain in urine, nervonsness, weak back, etc. Syphilis caused my hair to ww 000 O AROPRCICCY EPPE UT C MUCI DTE - 3 & Kergan. ‘They restored me to health, vigor mnl:ppim" CHAS. POWERS. repy Nee ning» rcagp repecr on omm John A. Manlin saye:â€"*"I was one of the countless vioâ€" VARICO CELE time of early ignorance commenced at 15 years of age. I 9 tried seven modical firms and epont .90({ without avail, EMISS'ONS AND | 1gave up in cospair. ‘The drains on my eystâ€"m were | MPOTENCYâ€"â€"-â€" F?flkefli“fi my mle(lilapt as well as my :oxnnl an&plu‘dul ife. y brother advisod me as a inst resort cons PDre. Kennedy & Kergan. 1commenced their New Iflfl CURED Treatment and in a few weeks was a new man, with new fnerm o er en ces esc 4 > HEFO BR ambition. This was four yeare ago, and now 1 j am married and happy, 1 recommend these reliable specialists to all my affiicted fellowmen." CURES GUARANTEED OR NO PAY.â€"CONFIDENTAL. fall out, bone pains, ulcers in mouth and on tongue, blotches on body, etc. I thank God 1 tried Dre. Konnedy VARICOCELE, EMISSIONS ans IMPOTENCY CURED. I@°CURES GVUARANTEED OR NO PAYI losses; 200000 WEAK MEN CURED! BEFORE TREATMENT, APIER TREATMENT. b}.k'()l(;i. 1';15'1:;11'. Avb"l_n.:t-'t'm'l'm- ® _ NO NAMES OR TESTIMONIALS USED WITHOUT WRITTEN CONSENT. 1D" We treat and cure Varicocele, Emissions RESTORED TO MANHOOD BY DRS. K. & K. JOHN A. MANLIN. JOHN A. MANLIN. _ CHAS. POWERS, OHAS. POWEREL Â¥STARTLING FAGCTS FOR DISEASED VICTIMS. RELIEF IN S1x HOUR3. ne chre Varicocere, Emissions, Nervwous Debil:‘g. Semina ;,JStr’z;r(ure, Syphilis, Unnatural Discharges, Self A buse, N G. & J. McKECHNIE _ Sir James Crichton Browne, the exâ€" pert on brain diseases, holds that inâ€" somnia is not attended with such disasâ€" trous consequences as is commonly supâ€" posed. It is not as dangerons as the solicitude of the sufferer. He suggests that the braing of literary men, who are the most frequent victims, acquire the trick of the heart, which takes a doze of a fraction of a second _ after each beat, and so manages to get Bix hours‘ rest in twentyâ€"four. Some braing, in cases of insomnia, sleap in sections, sJli{{erent brain centers going off duty in turn, Only Three Persons Who Know the Recret of Its Making. The paper making of Oxford Bibles is a specially important and interestâ€" ing part of the work. â€" At Wolvercote, | a mile or two out of Oxford, the uniâ€" versity has a large mill for the supply of its own requirements, says Chamâ€" ber‘s Journal. A good deal of the paâ€" | per they turn out here is made of old ship‘s sails, the material of which, after battling with storms in all quarâ€" | ters of the world, comes here for the | purpose â€" of being â€" made into paper, printed in almost every language under heaven and bound up into volumes to | be again scattcred far and wide into | all the uttermost ends of the earth. | , This Wolvercote paper has much to do with the great reputation that Oxâ€" ford has acquirea in tne production of Bibles and other devotional . books, Twenty years ago and more the man= agement here nit on a valuable invenâ€" tion in paper making, and ever since their "India Paper" has been the envy and fuzzle of manufacturers all over the kingdom. _ There are said to be only three persons living who know the secret of its make, and, though the process has never been legally proâ€" tected, and all the world is free to imiâ€" tate the extremely thin but thoroughly opaque _ and wonderfully strong and durable pnrer of the best Oxford Bibles if they only knew how, all the world has hitherto quite failed to do so. It is thin as tissue, but. perfectly opaâ€" aue, and so strong, that a strip of it, three inches wide, has prove«dp to be able of sustrining a quarter of a hunâ€" dredweight. Over 160 works and ediâ€" tions are now printed on this paper, This s‘feciul aAdvantage has very largely helpe Oxford to retain the leading ';ogxtlon which it originally gained by eing nearly the first, if not quite the first, printed of books in the kingdom, and by the prestige of its name. j i_ «) , 1: pO°_ Drinted on this paper, This a:{m:‘ia.l aAdvantage has very largely helped Oxford to retain the leading Inosxtion which it originally gained by wing nearly the first, if not quite the {irst, printed of books in the kingdom, .,nd "w Thin nmuukiu. _ a :. PAPER OF THE OXFORD BIBLE. BRAINS SLEEP In sEcrions Nervous Debility, Seminal o. 148 SHELGY $7, DETROIT, MICH. Syphilis, Emissions Varicocele, Cured. wonderfully â€" s‘t.x.‘;;;li;“n.;fi of the best Oxford Bibles knew how, all the world . NO RISK, s Jobbing of attended to. In the old s made # WOOl Horse S A train convey reservists from | was wrecked on * eight men were ki were serisisly in dressed to Lax aitended #o. Cownship of Ben *‘County of Grey and at reasonable r Loan and Ins: veyancer, C Loaps arrangod . wi promptly made MeNKY To 1.0a S g. REGIST # uder, Regi Deputyâ€"Registrar. «. m. to 4 p. m. ALLAN NO@OTARY PunL MONEY To DAN. BUSINESS Firstâ€"Cl: UNDERTAKIN FMI4® one door nor Of the Best TH 2. Aay person: the post office, â€" pame or another, soribed or not is r We oal! the sp maste‘s and aubso nopsis of the new 1, If any person vinued, he must ; publisher may con mentis made, and whether it be take There coan be no l pcvmontumade.w 8. If a subsorib m"od at a certai continues to sand to pay for it if ho office. This proc bat a man must ; Has opened JAMES OFFIOE, over Gna BSUXR of Ma: toneer for Co ICENSED A ICENSED a HUCH Fur of Grey. still to be i opposite th« A firstâ€" Noeows for sal â€"â€"Ki SOL)