Abergavenny Chronicle

0<>XX>-Q-G-G-C-<>-0- r ?ALL  EIGHTS RMB&VED. ] i ? [Au ;] WEAVERS <j> r AOCE & CLAUDE ASKEW. A AUCE & CLAUDE ASKEW. ? AWwii of "The Shaamiter-Tlw Rod <f Jusdce7 X CHAPTER XXV. THE END OF THE RIVALRY. "And so he's dead—drowned. And that's the best thing that could have happened after all, for when a man's made such a complete muddle of his life as Conrad dB Lille he is better out of the world than in it. He would only have gone on from bad to worse if he had lived-that's pretty cer- tain. He might even have known the in- side of a convict prison before he had finished his career, and that would have been a dreadful thing to happen to one of my blood-to poor Lucy Em'ly's son." Jabez Gilman stroked his chin somewhat reflectively, then he gazed down at the bed on which lay the earthly remains of Conrad de Lille, for it had been the ex-actor who had- been found drowned in the lake at dawn that morning, and death had in- vested the drowned man with a curious majesty—a majesty that had been totally lacking in life. As Jabez stared at his nephew a sudden moisture came into his eyes, and he sighed heavily. "Ah, the pity of it—the pity of it," he reflected. He paused and gazed down on the cold dead face for a few moments, then he drew the sheet reverently over Conrad's counte- nance and walked slowly out of the large bedroom at The Towers into which the drowned body of Conrad de Lille had been carried a few hours earlier, dripping, from the lake. For Jabez had offered to give his nephew's corpse shelter in his house till after the coroner's inquest had taken place —the inquest which would be held that afternoon-nor was there any doubt that tha verdict would be "Death by misadventure." I Andrew was waiting outside the door for Ms father, and when the old man came out he stepped forward to greet him. "Why, father, you look very white," he exclaimed. "I wish you hadn't gone into that room. Come downstairs to the dining- room and have a brandy and soda—you want a pick-me-up of some sort." "I think I do, ladI think I do," Jabez answered hoarsely. Then he took Andrew's arm, and father and son made their way down the wide staircase together-the old man leaning on the younger one's arm, realising for the first time that he carried the burden of years upon his bowed back. Andrew put his father into a big arm- chair as soon as they entered the dining- room, and then poured some brandy into a tumbler and added a little soda water. After Jabez had swallowed the stimulant a faint col stole into his cheeks. "Andre^, my lad," he said, "before the Coroner arrives* I'd like to explain ? few things to you, but first of all we must go back to what happened last night." He paused, then, added, speaking slowly and rc- .flectively: "Let me see, you were sitting in the study with me, were you not, when John- lion came in and announced that Mr. Con- rad de Lille had been ringing violently at the front door bell and demanded to see m.e? And you heard what I said to John- Bon, how I told him to tell Conrad de Lille I10 go to the devil and not to come bother-  me at midnight? You heard me say that I utterly declined to see de Lille-that oe must write to me if he had anything to communicate ?" "Yes, I know, father. I was a witness to a 1 this, Andrew answered. He spoke in low, rather puzzled tones, and scratched his fair flaxen head. "And you've not forgotten what hap- pened next?" Jabez continued. "You re- member, I expect, how Johnson went to give my message, and I turned to you and was about to take you into my confidence with regard to de Lille, who, as you know now, happened to be my nephew, nd a very ungrateful nephew. But just as I W6 about to speak the study door was flung open, and who should come bursting into the room but Conrad de Lille himself." "I remember, father." Andrew nodded his fair head. You sprang up in a temper," he continued, "and you ordered do Lille fiercely out of the room, but he just stood and mocked vouein the doorway. It was quite evident that he had been drinking heavily, and was certainly not master of himself. The poor devil didn't know what he was doing." "I'm not so sure about that," Jabez re- torted, frowning. "He was drunk, of course, but not so drunk as to prevent his trying to do a bit of trading with me. Don't you remember how he shouted that he'd come with letters in his pocket to sell, a bundle of letters. And that he should ex- pect a fair price for them, too—a cheque for a thousand straight off. In fact, he wasn't sure that he wouldn't make it two thousand. Jabez paused a moment, then he turned irritably on Andrew. "And what did you think of me," he de- manded, huskily, "when I told that drunken fellow that if he'd modulate his voice a bit and sit down we might do a deal after all, angry though. I was, furious at the way he had forced himself into my house? Still, being there, it would be as well to get the matter under discussion settled at once, so that I could wash my hands of him for ever. Weren't you a bit puzzled by your old dad's behaviour, Andrew? Weren't you a trifle afraid that his past held some guilty secret? Did you think a skeleton was going to pop out of the cupboard at last, and shake his grisly bones?" "I don't know what I thought; Andrew muttered, still scratching his head. I was so dumbfounded. I felt as if I mw looking on at a scene in a play—nothing seemed real or natural." "It was a bit like a play, wasn't it?" Jabez agreed, nodding his grizzled head. "But I can tell you now, lad, if it will be any satisfaction to you, if it will relieve your mind with regard to any doubts that you may be entertaining about your old father, that those letters which I bought back for a thousand pounds from the dead man upstairs were merely half a dozen epistles that I had written to my sister, all about a love affair that didn't come off For, oh, there was a day when my blood was hot, just like any other young fool's, and your mother, as you may have guessed, Andrew, wasn't mv first love. But mv first love flouted me, married another fellow; I and I made a fair fool of myself in tli 0"? letters I wrote Lucy Em'ly.' They were written in blood. Andrew—heart's blood- and you can understand, lad, thnt I didn't want any prying eyes to read them; they were letters I'd a mind to destroy myself." The veins in his forehead swelled as he spoke, and he breathed heavily. Andrew gazed at his father in dull amazement, for he had never credited Jabez Gilman with a love story. "I understand, father." Andrew nodded his head slowlv. "Oh, I can quite see how it was that you wanted to buy those letters back. Why, it's just how I should feel if I'd been writing about Fancy to anyone." "I'm glad you understand, Andrew." Jabez smiled approvingly. Well, you ttotioed, didn't you, how after I'd made out my cheque and handed it to Conrad de Lille a long pause fell before he gave me the sealed packet. which he said contained the letters I had just bought-and bought at a pretty stiff price." "Yes," Andrew interrupted, eagerly. "But when you broke the. seal of the packet' and took out the letters to count them, there were two missing, you said. A-nd I shall never forget your fury as vou turned upou de Lille and demanded the ?turn of those two letters; and you called him every ? hard word that vou could thin? 'of", every Jhard word that vou could think "And didn't he deserve it?" Jabez de- •fianded hoarsely. "Hadn't he tried to plaj !I. yile trick upon me? For you'll never make ? believe that he had omitted to put those tl"O letters in the packet by accident. Why, course he hadn't—'twa&u't likelv. p? ?s keppicg them back on purpose, so (hat ? ? cou'd do a little more blackmailing latN • But I told him what I thought of him t"l'ett 1, 1 d'd 't I d "?y plainly, didn't 1, Andrewt old ii.,an laughed grunly. He had quit ^or80',tcn f°r the moment that Conrad L forgotten for itic niomenTthat Conrad r- hi8 corpse lay in the hou,-e. Then ? lli8 hcavy shoulders suddenly began to "Lord," he grunted, "he bad the rough side of my tongue, hadn? lie,, Andrew? And it sobered him for a moment, half-drunk though he was, for he turned white and began to shiver. I wonder how he got that yellow streak in his blood, for he was a coward if ever there was oiie-a pitiful coward." "Yes, he was certainly a coward," Andrew admitted. Then he moved to his father's chair, and rested a strong hand on the old man's shoulder. "I cannot imagine what came over Conrad de Lille," he continued, "the extraordinary change that suddenly occurred, fcr, in the flash of a second, he ceised to shake and tremble, and seemed to go mad. Oh, I shall never forget that demoniacal look that came over his face, the way he howled and raved, shaking his fists in your face, snarling out that you should never have those two lettcrR. that he would keep them to the day of his death, to mock and taunt you with them, if he chose. And then, just as I was hurrying forward, intending to take the young brute by his shoulders and fling him out of the house, he hit you straight on the forehead with his clenched fists, and down you went, father, like a log. I thought he had killed you, for his aim was wonderfully straight and strong for a drunken man, wasn't it? "Yes, I saw a few stars," Jabez answered. "But you ought to have collared him, Andrew, instead of bending down over me. You ought to have been after the young devil who had dealt me such a murderous blow, and not allowed him to escape." "Fatber-as if I could My first thought was of you. Plenty of time for me to punish Conrad de Lille later on, I reflected. But, thank God you were not seriously hurt- merely stunned, rendered unconscious for the moment-and, whilst I was bending over you trying to make out if your heart 6till be-at, de Lille realised that "he had better make tracks for safety. And so, what does he do but jump out of the open study win- dow. I suppose he realised it was only a few feet from the ground. But, anyway, he took the risk, and jumped out into the night -.tr-d a dark night, too, for the moon had gone in by now, and rain clouds were sweeping across the sky." "Yes, at was an angry night," Jabez mut- tered. "And then, whilst you were bending over your father, Thor did his little bit of work, didn't he—faithful old Thor? But tell me again what happened, Andrew—you, who saw it all—tell me how Thor did his level best to avenge his master. Perhaps the old dog thought I was dead? "I really believe he did," Andrew inter- rupted, "for Thor sprang from behind your big armchair, where he had been crouching for the last few minutes, every hair on his grey body bristling, and his eyes looked red, and before I could call him back-be- fore I could even think of calling him back —he had leapt out of the window in wild pursuit of de Lille. And what a chase that must have been, Conrad hurrying along madly, tearing his way through bush and bramble, and Thor panting to avenge his master." "But you whistled the hound back, Andrew J abez protested, and there was an angry and half-aggrieved note in his voice. "Ye made a mistake there, lad, you should have let him alone." "Why, he might have torn De Lille limb from limb, father, and in all probability that's what he would have done if I hadn't whistled for him. And Thor, who is always obedient, as you know, boundod back, leaping in through the window again.. But a fhinute or two later, whilst I was bending over you, trying to restore you to consciousness, he jumped out—I, never noticing-and was off again in pursuit of the man whom he doubtless believed had killed you." "Ah, and he tracked Conrad down finely, Andrew. And I doo't wonder, upon my soul, I don't wonder, that Conrad lost his head and ran on wildly—desperately—for he heard the great hound tearing after him, and imagined what the snapping of- Thor's jaws would be like, and how the big brute might rend him limb from limb. Oh, it doesn't surprise me that, in his fear, in his terror, he stumbled and < fell into, the lake, for it was a black night, and he didn't know his way." It was a most terrible end-poor wretch!" Andrew muttered. "Why, I could almost find it in my heart to pity Conrad de Lille, for the fear that proved his undoing at the time of the wreck of the Blue Star caused his death last night. If he had been a braver fellow, if he had turned on Thor and shown fight instead of tearing along like a craven across the lawn I don't believe that the great hound would have ventured to attack him. I wonder now, though, if I ought to have made some search after the poor fellow when Thor came back to the house. But I was too worried and anxious about you to care much what had come to de Lille. Besides, there was nothing to indicate that there had been a struggle between the dog and the man. Thor's fur was quite unruffled, and I imagined that De Lille had got off in safety. I never thought for one instant, Heaven help me, that he was lying drowned in our lake. It seems too incredible, doesn't it, to be saved from a wild; sea to drown in a lake?" Ah, but he wasn't drunk on the other occa- sion," Jabez muttered, "except drunk with fear, perhaps. Besides, I shouldn't be a bit surprised if lie hadn't hit his head badly as he dashed through the trees, and that he was half unconscious when he finally fell into the water. But there, no one will ever know all that happened, though, thank God. the marks of Conrad de Lille's foot- prints and Thor's paws go down right to the edge of the water. And so it's easy to see how the poor wretch came to his end, and no suspicion can attach to anyone. It's a clear case, as I said before, of death through misadventure, or, what I should say would be a better verdict," and [IS the old man spoke he lowered his voice to an impressive whisper, "Death by the Act of God." He paused a moment, a quiver passed over his face, he stirred uneasily in his chair. "We're all sinnere," he muttered, "we're all offenders, and I suppose that some day or other we shall be punished according to our deserts, just as this poor beggar has got punished. And I wonder wli.,t the Lord will have to say to old Jabez Gilman on Judgment Day? For, just because I lost the lass I wanted, I've made life hard and bitter for a good many people—I've trodden down the poor, .for I've shown little pity or kindness to my mill-hands—and all because I wanted to ruin poor old Peter Rawwon, poor old .iet.?r, who never did me any harm really. Il' wasn't his fault, I suppose, that she loved him better than she loved me— for it was Peter's wife, as you may have guessed by now, .whom I wanted for my wife. But the lase was of a different opinion herself." He drew a deep breath and ssnk back somewhat heavily into his chair. "Two weavers," he muttered, "and each trying to undersell the other. And it was my fault that the rivalry began between us in the first instance. I'm to blame for the long struggle between Peter Rawson and myself that has brought so much misery upon hundreds and hundreds of innocent people, and I don't doubt that the Lord will punish me one day." His head dropped on his breast, he looked strangely old for the moment, then he 6ud- dentl): gaye an odd' chuckle. "Let's see," he grunted, "old Peter's shutting up his mills, and I'm going to buy them and tike. them over. But it seems to me. that I'd better punish myself a bit, then maybe the Lord will lighten things for me hereafter. Look ye here, Andrew, all my life, lad, I've wanted to be the one great mill owner in Yardicy, and now it seems that my wish is gratified. But I'll just be a second Moses. Poor old Moses, who gazed into the Land of Promise and never dwelt there. I'll hand the whole affair over to you, Andrew, though it will fairly break my heart to do 60, for you'll never be the shrewd man of business that I have been, though I won't say that you're not the better man of the two, and you'll lighten the yoke of those who serve you, and be a friend to the mill hnnds. So I'll abdicate, my lad. Old Jabei Oilman, just when he's come into his king- dom, will give it up to his son. As for the old man "-he laughed rather huskily— "well, I don't suppose he'll be troubling you too long, Andrew, and anyway you won't grudge me bed and board." Oh, father, father," Andrew threw his arms about J -,i b,: z' heaving shoulders. "Don't think of giving up the mills!" he entreated. "Why, you'd' be miserable if you did anything of the sort—you'd be most unhappy." .1 Lord, I tell you, I've got to punish my. Felf somehow," Jabez answered solemnly. "Heaven help us, don't you want mo to make my peace with God? For when my soul goes out in the dark, as Conrad de Lille's soul rushed out last night, I—I he paused and did not finish his sentence, but a second later Andrew heard him muttering the lines of the prayer that Jabez had learnt years ago at his mother's knee— learnt and half-forgotten—" Forgive us our trespasses. The door opened at that moment and Fancy appeared on the threshold. She looked pale and a little frightened. "Oh, isn't it terrible?" she exclaimed, coming into the room. Then, of her own accord, she ran up to Andrew and clung to his arm. Oh, Andrew, you're so big, so strong," she mi-ittered. It's good to have you to come to—for I feel shaky to-day and nervous—Conrad de Lille's dreadful end has quite upset me." Andrew put one arm around the girl he loved. and the other about his father's bowed shoulders, and there he stood, tall and strong and honest—not a clever man- not a brilliant man—but one who well deserved the praise that would be spoken of him in future years, for he was a good man whose word was his bond, a kind master, a generous friend. Jabez turned his head and looked hard at Fancy. "Eh, lass," he exclaimed, "I've news for you. I'm handing over the mills to Andrew. I've a kind of idea that he'll prove himself a better weaver than I have been. And God prosper his web, I say, and send good thread for the spinning." Fancy caught her breath, then she clung still closer to Andrew, as she would cling to him in all loyal affection for the rest of her life. And, strangely enough, it was Fancy who was destined to bring more happiness into old Jabez Oilman's life than anyone else. For it was to his daughter-in-law that the old man turned for companionship in the future, it was to Fancy's little hand he clung aa the sands of life ran out, and it was Fancy who closed his eyes at the last and gave him one of her rare kisses when he finally fell asleep. CHAPTER XXVI. THE WEDDING DAY. "Our wedding day, Eve—our wedding day! Rodney Grieve murmured the words in low tones, murmured them into Eve's ear, and she smiled a happy assent. Then a beautiful blush coloured her face from throat to brow, and her eyes became the chambers of happy dreams, her lips parted into a tender smile. isn't it wonderful, Rodney?" she whispered. "I6n't it marvellous to feel that we are married at last and that nothing- nothing can part us—that we belong to each other for ever?" She slipped her hand into her husband's as she spoke—the husband of a few hours- then she gave a little contented sigh, and her head drooped softly on Rodney's fihoulder. They were sitting in a railway carriage, and an express train, thundering along at a rapid rate, was taking the young couple far away from Lancashire, right up to t h.- North, for Eve had expressed a wish to spend her honeymoon in Scotland. It would be grand to see the hills, she thought, and the purple moorland, and though it was somewhat late in the year—for the autumn was well advanced—still it was a golden October that had set in, a real Indian summer. Besides, Rodney 'and Eve were in the happy frame of mind when the world is viewed only through rose-coloured spec- tacles, and not even a November fog would have daunted them to-day. They would have laughed and told each other that the sun was behind the clouds, anyway, but as it was, the sun, instead of being hidden behind clouds, was shining gloriously upon bride and bridegroom, and there was a sense of rich fruition in the air—of warm harvesting. "We are going to be so happy, Eve-so liappy." Rodney suddenly put his arm about his wife's waist. "All we wanted to mak « our happiness complete and perfect a few weeks ago was a little more money," ho murmured, "and now, thanks to that un- expected fortune that a distant cousin of my father's has seen fit to leave me just because I am the last of my line, we are no longer, comparatively speaking, paupers, but quite well off. And I can give you and your father all the comforts and luxuries that I want to." "Yes, and we can help other people," she interrupted, "and isn't it a comfort to feel that? For, oh, when I think how selfish I was when I was a girl, how I thought only of myself and my own pleasures and enjoy- ments, I do want to make amen<« for all that now, for I shall never forget the reproachful way that poor, wretched woman addressed me whom I met in the lane a few weeks ago. And when we get home, Rodney, when the first part of our honeymoon is over and we settle down in our own house, why then we must look about us and see what we can do towards helping other people." "My darling!" Rodney bent down and kissed her little hands. "I love to hear you talk like this. I always knew you were the sweetest girl in all the world-the dearest. But what a grand woman you are going to make, my beloved—what a great woman!" "No, Rodney, I'm neither grand nor great" She smiled at him tenderly. I'm just a woman who is so happy herself that she hopes to make other people happy out of sheer gratitude. Life is a big web, and I am a weaver's daughter, remember, and I want to spin a little gold into the web of other people's lives, a few bright threads, because of all the purple and gold that has come into my life lately." She paused a moment, then she added, her eyes growing a little misty, "Do you know, Rodney, I don't think. I shall ever be able to forget what I suffered that awful morning—the morning when I heard of poor Conrad's death. And-and I thought you might have taken the law into your own hands and have committed a crime for mv Bake." "Dear, you must forget all that." He 1 soothed her tenderly. "Though, indeed. I don't say what might not have happened if Conrad de Lille had not taken himself off quietly enough that night-removed his hateful presence from The Firs. For if he had attempted to make his way back to your home—and I followed him quite a long way to see what lie would do-well, I'm not sure that my hands would be as clean as 1 they are at present. For I could have killed him that night, Eve—I could have murdered him! "Oh, hush, hush." She turned a pale face to her husband and looked at him verv anxiously—very searchingly. "Tell me, Rodney," she asked, and her voice was very low and impressive, "have you really forgiven me for ..having been foolish enough to fancy myself in love with poor Conrad? "My pet," he laughed at her fondly, "why, it was an episode that belongs to your salad days, when you were green in Judgment-it wasn't the real thing. But you know that now, don't you? "Yes," she answered, "yes." Then she raised her big blue eyes and gazed at him trustfully—confidingly. "But this is the real thing, she murmured, "this." "I should rather think so," Rodney answered. Then he bent his head and kissed her on her lips. "My wife," he whispered, "my wife." THE END.

I BITS ABOUT BREAD. It takes, after average mastication, two and a-half hours for one slice of white brefid to fully digest. For providing the body with "energy," bread is only surpassed by oat- meal and by sugar. New bread causes in- digestion because while in the mouth it pro- duces but little flow of saliva. White bread, owing to its easy mastication, is held re- sponsible for the widespread decay of teeth. Wheat can be eaten whole if well soaked in water, and then boiled in milk, with a little sugar added.

I FUN AND FANCY. "I hear he's economising." ityes; h4 doesn't buy anything now unless he can get it on credit." "Do you believe that two can live as cheaply as one?" she asked. "Yes," he re- plied, "but I am an advocate of peace at any price." "Fred is so poetical. When I accepted him he said he felt like an immigrant enter- ing a new world." "Well, there's sense as well as poetry in that. Wasn't he just landed ?" Boy: "Want to buy a dog, mister?" Man: "What kind of a dog?" Boy: "Oh, he's a winner, all right! He's part Irish terrier, part English bull, part French poodle, and part Italian greyhound!" "Just one month ago Edith and I agreed that we would point out each other's faults without reserve." "And are you still doing it?" "Oh, no; we haven't spoken to each other for twenty-nine days." Fortune Teller: If A dark man will soon come across your threshold." Mrs. Wax- work "Thank goodness, my husband is going to be able to get some coal." Yes, sir!" said the bounder. "I suppose I've kissed a girl on every hundred square feet of this beach." "H'm!" retorted the decent sort. "Must have been some trouble to keep moving her about." "Ye-es," hesitated Mr. Justwed, "these cakes are pretty good, but don't you think there ought to be just a little more "Your mother made them," interrupted Mrs. J., quickly. "-—— of them?" ended Mr. J., with a flash of inspiration. She: "But will you love me in cold De- cember as you do in Balmy June?" He: "More, darling." She: "More!" He: "Sure, there's one day more in cold Decem- ber. Mr. Economic: "Did you write to' that man who advertises to show people how to make puddings without milk, and have them richer?" Mrs. Economic: "Yes, and sent him the five shillings." "What did he reply?" "JJse cream." Workman (politely, to old lady, who has accidentally got into a smoking compart- ment) You don't object to my pipe, I 'ope, mum?" Old Lady: Yes, I do object, very strongly" Workman: "OhI Then out you get!" Passenger (after unusually long stop at small station) "I say, guard, why aren't we going on? Anything wrong?" Guard (complacently engaged upon eating) "There's nacthing wrong, sir; but I canna whistle the noo; ma mouth's fu' o' Biscuit J" A man in a country village was preparing for his fourth "flitting" in twelve months. The vicar happened to pass, and said, "What, removing again, John?" "Yes, sir," replied John. ""You are taking .your poultry, too, I see. Aren't they getting tired of being moved about?" "Getting tired! No fear. Why, bless you, sir, they are quite used to it by now. Every time them hens sees a furniture van arrive, they run into the yard and lie on their backs with their legs in the air, waiting to have them tied." "Have you any defects?" "Yes, sir, I am short-sighted." "How can you prove it?" "Easily enough, doctor. Do you see that nail up yonder in the wall?" "Yes." "Well, I don't." Teacher: "This drawing is excellent. Did you do it all yourself?" Small Pupil: VN-o'm; Johnny Smart drew it for me, but I did the shading." Teacher: "The shading is remarkably well done." Small Pupil: "Yes'm. I held a book up to keep the sun from shining in Johnny's eyes." An old gentleman reproved his nephew for fightinly with another boy. "But." said the lad, "he called my sister names." "Why,  s W bv, you haven't any sister, and never had one!" exclaimed the other in astonishment. "I know that," replied the boy doggedly; "but he thought I hud, and said she was squint- eyed, and I went for him." "Who's there?" "The butcher, please'm I've brought the joint. "All right. Slip it under the door." Mother: "I can't see why you should ob- ject to Mr Goodsense." Daughter: "I could never marry such a man as that. He wears the cheapest kind of ready-made clothes I ever saw." Mother: "That shows he is a very careful young man, and trying to study economy during these hard times." Daughter: Y-<?-s; but I'm afraid he'll want me to dress the same way." Before we were married you said you would glady dare anything for me." "Well?" "And now you stand there, and admit that you're afraid to ask your firm for a rise." The man with the beetling brows waited upon the editor. Well?" 'said the busy man with the pale face and rumpled luiir. "I am from police headquarters. I want to call your attention to the fact that in your morning paper you called me the chief of defectives instead of Merely a typographical error, I assure you; no mis- take in facts. Good morning, sir!" And the editor went on blue-penciling. If you marry Grace," exclaimed an irate father to his son, "I'll cut you off without a penny, and you won't. have so nuch as a piece of pork to boil in the pot." Weli," said the young man, Grace before meat." And he immediately went in search of a minister.

THE SIMPLE WAY I is generally the best way, and the a 2 simplest way of maintaining your g H health is to take a reliable medicine < S directly you feel out-of-sorts. A Kj ? dose of Beecham's PtMt when nec- § cessary will keep you fit and well. There is no more handy, inexpensive □ | and popular remedy than Beecham's M 2i Pills. They never fail to perform Q C what is promised for them. For ? the numerous ailments to which the S digestive system is liable, Beecham's j g Pills are heartily recommended. If t 1 I you Ij TAKE j H them as occasion demands, they 5 will be found to-afford speedy and jj S full relief in cases of biliousness, < 5 constipation, sick headache, flatul- ? ence, heartburn, .Iuggi.b liver, § ? feelings of depreMton, lack of ener- 3 H gy, poor appetite, and a general loss | a of tone. If you happen to be a suf- B 3 ferer from any of the symptoms of § ? dyspepsia the .imple way to a cure § 3 is to take BEECHAM'S PILLS. 9 Sold everywhere < 5 8 in boxes, labelled Is-3d and 3s-0d. B

CLUB WINDOW. I Colonel Roosevelt, amongst his, many other out-door accomplishments, is very skil- ful in the use of the lassoo. He once rescued a relative from drowning by lassooing him as he struggled in the water, and dragging him to the land. # Dean Inge, of St. Paul's, is generally christened "the gloomy Dean," but the fol- lowing good story is credited to him, The anecdote concerns a brother cleric who was once upon a time offered a. deanery. A visi- tor asked one of his children if he had ac- cepted it. "Well," replied the youngster archly, "father is still praying for light, but mother has begun to pack up." The Marquis of Bute is one of the richest men in England. When he came into the title he inherited something like six millions sterling—money made chiefly in the Cardiff Docks. Although his immense riches are mainly derived from the Welsh port his possessions in Scotland are of vast extent. He cares little for society, but is devoted to everything Scottish, often wears the kilt, and has his own piper. His lordship is a keen sportsman, a renowned big-game hunter, and a great traveller. In the former respect he differs greatly from his father, who never fired a gun in his life. Mr. G. R. Sims, as a boy at Hanwell Col- lege, looked eagerly forward to a career as a circus-rider, for which he would gladly have bartered all the potential profits of his pen. < Mr. 'Justice Darling is considered the greatest wit among our judges. One of his most brilliant sallies, and one which must evidently have been coined on the spur of the moment was in relation to a case he was trying where one of the witnesses was obviously perjuring himself. The judge cau- tioned him, whereupon the witness burst forth: "My lord, you may believe me or believe me not, but I have not stated a word that is false; I have been wedded to the truth since infancy!" "Indeed!" came the retort, quick as a lightning flash. "Wadded to the truth since infancy, eh? But"- sweetly—"may I inquire how long you have been a widower?" Lord Lambourne has a wide reputation as a story-teller, and describes how, when at Eton, his mother, anxious to instil into him the value of money, impressed upon him the wisdom of keeping an account of his expen- dtfcure. "My book-keeping," he says, -usualay worked out something like this: Postage stamps, 4d.; jam, 6d.; chapel, 3d. tost through ))010 in pokket, £2 10s." ("The kapeDmg woe my own," save the Colonel.) » One day, whilst motoring in Bombay. Lord Lamington had a curious and some- what thrilling experience. As he was travel- ling at a fairly good speed an old Hindu woman threw herself deliberately in front of his car. His lordship was only just able to pull up in time, and it afterwards tran- spired that the woman had committed this mad act because she wished to attraet Lord Lamington's attention to a petition she wanted to present to him as Governor. < Sir A. Conan Doyle, in his Stonyhuret days, oscillated between the career of a prize-fighter and a professional cricketer, in both of which careers he would probably have done well. M. Clemenceau, the French Premier, was originally a doctor. He is an expert swords- man, and although he has fought many duels it is only once or twice that he has come off second best. He is an extraor- dinarily courageous man, and on one oeca sion during the Commune all but lost his life in trying to save the lives of two of his friends who had been condemned to be shot. Before he became Prime Minister, M. Clemenceau was one of the most militant journalists in France, and wrote a leading article every day for years without a single break. General Sir Francis Howard joined the Rifle Brigade in 1866. He has seen active service in Afghanistan and Burma. He was with the Nile Expedition, and took part in the Battle of Khartoum, being mentioned in dispatches, and receiving the Distinguished Service reward. In the last South African War Sir Francis performed work for which he was highly praised, and was made a K.C.B. He was shut up in Ladysmith with Sir George White. Afterwards he was ap- pointed Inspector-General of Recruiting at Army Headquarters, and has held other im- portant positions. Signor Caruso is a very clever caricaturist. In his leisure moments the famous tenor is fond of making humorous sketches of his friends, and his gifts in this direction are such as to leave no doubt that, were he obliged to abandon singing for some other calling, his caricatures would bring him in a considerable income. Sir Edward Clarke tells an amusing; anec- dote regarding bayonet practice in the Volunteer Training Corps of which he is a member. The instructor of a certain com- pany was far from satisfied with the way his pupils were attacking the dummies. Such tactics, he said, would only tickle the enemy; they must act as though they were attacking real and desperate Huns. Several of the men thereupon wielded their weapons wi,th what they imagined was pronounced vigour, but the instructor, who had watched them with ill-concealed di.-gii,t, shouted as they moved away: "You've forgotten some- thing." "What is it? they inquired. "You've forgotten," he said, jerking his head towards the line cf dummies, "to shake hands with them." j- Sir Oliver Lodge, the brilliant scientist, began business life at the early age of four- teen. Even as a boy he took a keen interest in science, and most of his spare time was spent in studying books and dreaming dreams. When he got older he ii,,ekl to at- tend lectures and evening classes, and by steady application to work he laid the foun- dation for his success in the scientific world. The following good story is told by Mr. Owen Mares. It concerns a ship that had fouled a floating mine in the dark, with disastrous results. Boats were promptly lowered, and crew and passengers proceeded quietly to their appointed stations. Mean- while the captain on the bridge was sending up rockets and burning blue lights, in order to attract the attention of any vessels that might chance to be in the vicinity. Sud- denly he caught sight of a tall, thin, and austere passenger .standing at the top of the stair leading to the bridge. "What are you doing here:" said the captain angrily. "Your place is in the boats, and if you do not go immediately they. will not wait for you." The passenger gazed at the captain solemnly. "1 have come," he said, "to pro- test against this unseemly conduct on your part. We are now facing death. Is this the time to rejoice? Is this the occasion to ignite fireworks" ♦ Lord Cowdray is a shrewd judge of others. There is a story told of a would-be agent who audaciously declared: "Of course I shall rcb you, sir, but I will take care nobody else does." A man who was present at the interview was horrified, but Lord Cowdray laughed, and the candid applicant got the job.

Sergeant Sharp was as regimental as it is possible for a man to be. "'Shun'" he cried to his squad. "Quick march! Left wheel! Halt I Take Murphy's name for talking in the ranks." "But he wasn't talking," protested a corpora! who was standing near. "Wasn't he?" roared Ser- geant Sharp. "Don't matter, then. Cross it out and put him in the guard-room for deceiving me." Donald was an old Scots beadle who offici- ated in a Highland kirk where the minister, never a'bright star at any time, believed in giving full value for the money, as it were, in his discourses. A stranger once asked him his opinion of the sermons. "Ah, weel," replied Donald, "you'll no get me to say anything against them, for they're a' verra cuid, but I'll just remark this much: "The beginning's aye ower far frae the end, an' it would greatly improve the force o' it if be left oot a' that cam' in at ween."

.I r I THINGS THOUGHTFUL, I a YOUNG MEN. Young men are fitter to invent than te judge; fitter for execution than for counsel; and fitter for new projects than for settled buisineiss.-Baoon. I NO DIFFERENCE. Many grains of incense on the same altar. I One falls before, another falls after; but it makes no differenoe.-Mamus Aurelius. I LIFE'S PROBLEMS. When our life's problems cast shadows over us, it is well to remember that God is vastly more considerate of our needs than are men. If we have but little light on our life's puzzles, we may be sure that the light God has provided is quite enemgh to meet our needs. When the darkness deepens. His liglht for us will be increased. Wha.t- erer problem we face, whatever road we travel, we may proceed in peace and security, for God gives light. I UNWILLINGNESS TO SERVE. I No amount of anxiety to save the people can make up for unwillingness to sa-t-e and serve people. I KEEP ON HOPING. O'er our heaven again cloud closes, until, lo— Hope the arrowy, just as constant, oomes to pierce its gloom, compelled By a power and by a purpose which, if no one else behold, I behold in life, eo—hope! -Browning. I A LIFE PICTURE. An artist has an eye to effects, to results. Many a fine picture is a daub when closely examined, but flashes into beauty when seen from a distance. If we would be artists in gratitude we must stand off from ourselves, from our prejudices and passions and con- ceits, and we must look at our friends' real motives and at eternal effects. Then we shall be in the way of painting a life picture that will be worth while. BEAUTIFUL HUMANITY. Humanity is never oq beautiful as when praying for forgiveness, or else forgiving another. HABIT. Habit is first of all that which ft man has, and lastly is that which has the man. Habits are helps or hindrances, according to their character and direction. Both virtue and vice tend through the habitual set of the mind and heart to become in time auto- matic—or a. second nature. Advantage should be taken of this fact by all trainers of youth and moral teachers. Let duty make its deep dent into the conscience, let regularity in religious exercises be once thoroughly established, and the presumption will be that good and not evil will finally get that soul. RULE THYSELF. Soul, rule thyself. On,passion, deed, desire Lay thou the law. of thy deliberate will. Stand at thy chosen post, faith's sentinel. Learn to endure. Thine the reward Of those vho make living lig-ht their Lord. Clad with celestial steel these stand secure, Masters, not slaves. -Symonds. OUR COUNTRY. Justice bright as mercy, mercy girt by jus- tice with her sword, Smote and saved and raised and ruined, till the tyrant-ridden horde Saw the lightning fade from heaven and knew the sum for God and lord. Where the footfall sounds of England, where the smile of Engjand shines, Rings the tread and laughs the faoe of freedom, iair as hope divines Days to be, more brave than ours and lit by lordlier stai-s for signs. All our past acclaims our future; Shakc- speare's voice and Nelson's hand. Miltons faith and Wordsworth's trust in this our chosen and chainlcss land. Bear us witness; come the world against beT, England yet shall stand. -sw inbur,le. ADVICE. Someone has said that the best thing about advioe is that you do not need to take it. After the conflict of outside opinions has exhausted i\self, it is a com- fort to remember that only God and yourself have to decide the matter. OUR TRUST IN GOD. What a vast portion of our lives itS spent in anxious and usele88 forebodings conei-n- ing the future, either our own or tho-e of our dear ones. Present blessings slip by, and we miss half their sweet flavour, ;iud all for want of faith in Him who provides for the tiniest insect in the sunbeam. 0, when shall we learn the sweet trust in God that our little children teach us every day )y their confiding faith in us? We, who are BO mutable, so faulty, so irritawe, so un- just; and He who is so watchful, so pitifvJ, so loving, so forgiving! Why cannot we, slipping cur hand in His each day, walk trustingly over that day's appointed path, thorny or flowery, crooked or straight, know- ing that evening will bring us sleep, peac:j, aõ ho rue?—Philip Brooks. TME SPIHIT OF EASTER. To love God; to rejoice in His world to see and feel its beauty; to let the heart ojieu in gratitude as naturally as the flowers blos- som to stand ready to serve in even the humblest way, seeking no reward except such as lfows out of serving our fellows -a the spirit of Christ to rise above petty an- noyaiice, and bo calm to trust God amid the hardest trials and to find life sweet amid the deepest sorrows; to have faith in the power of love to conquer even eumity, sin, and death, is to have the spirit of Easter, is to be "risen with Chri.t.R. F. Johon- not. KEEP SMILING. It is ca¡;;y enough to be pleasant. When life goes on like a song But the girl worth while Is the one who can smile When everything goes wrong For the test of the heart, is trouble, That is sure to come with years, And the smile that is worth The praises of Earth Is the smile that shines thro' the tears. I THOUGHTS ON GENIUS. I Genius can never despise labour.—Al>el Stevens. Genius and viitue, like diamond, are best plain set.—Emerson. Genius always gives its best at first, pru- dence at last.-Lavater. Genius can onlv breathe freely in an atmosphere of freedom.—J. S. Mill. GROWTH. Nothing great is produced suddenly, not even a grape or a fig. If you say to me that you want a grape or a fig now, I will answer you that you cannot have it; a grape takes time. Let it Mower first, then it will put forth its fruit, and then ripen. And would you have the fruit of a man's life and cha- racter all in a moment? JDo not e::pect it.- Epictetus. At the end of life we shall net be asked how much pleasure we had in it, but how much service we gave in it; not how full it was of LUCCC. but how full it was of sacrifice; not how happy we were, but how helpful we were; not how ambition, was gratified, but how love was serred.— Hugh Black.