Newspaper Page Text
v- -THE RULING PASSION.
A tiny tot of only threo, finest as the dew the rose Inhales, I Bayly danos upon my knee The whllo I tell ber fairy tales. Unoloudod Is her placid brow ; "No care," muse I, "such lives distress!" " Dear mo," Bays she, "I wonder how . I'd bettor make my dolly's dress?" A fair yoong bride in queenly (towns Comes down the grand oathedral alslei The mighty organ sweetly sounds, And on her lips a saintly smile, And In ber heart s prayer not so, For truthfully we must confess She's thinking this: 'Td like to know What folks are saying of my dress r A matron near thegates of dcatb With weeping kindred at her side, All fearful that each fleeting breath Will bear hor soul across the tide, She tries to speak ! She- faintly clasps The kindly form that bends above, ' And with hor dying breath she gasps: "See that my shroud Is ruffled, lore I" If all the Scriptures say Is true, There'll be more women, ton to one, In that sweet by and by where you And I may moot when llfo Is done. But all the Joys designed to bless Bright crowns and harps with golden strings Won't please the women there unless Each has the nlcast pair of wings. . Memphis Appeal. 1 : ) CHAPTER XIII. Continued. Nearly thirty years have gone by since Charles Dickens wrote about the Savoy churchyard and the quiet pre cinct. "I think that on sumnutr nights the dew falls here,' he said; "the only dew that is shed in all - London, beyond the tears of the homeless." And these very words may be spoken of this spot to-day, so frreen and fresh is the grass and bo beautiful are the trees. The . place is unchanged, and .the familiar figure of the chaplain, known and loved by everybody, is still constantly seen in - his old haunts: Thcmurroundings are altered; "the simple dwelling houses, with their white doorsteps and green blinds," have been swept away; but the coalles still "touch their sou' westers to him as ha glides about," and the children's faces brighten at his - greeting. The churchyard was quiet and de serted when Olive ventured In and sat down to rest upon a seat under the trees. She was In perfect harmony with the tranquil lights and shadows; and the grave beauty of tho old gray walls, on which the record of centuries was written so legibly, yet without any sign of neglect or decay. The chapel, liflts venerable strength, stood In the midst of all tho active life of to-day, and linked the present to tho post, in thai old church, the good and peaceful Fuller spoke loving words to those who sat within the walls, and crowded about tho windows and doors to get within reach of.his voice. And there, too, he preached his last sermon to the . wedding couple, who were members of his flock, unU was carried out of his be . loved sanctuary to die. There were no regrets for the dignities so lately be stowed upon him, na troubles about worldly things; but only "all humble thankfulness and submission to God's welcome providence." Olive sat there and meditated, and saw tho yellow leaves dropping slowly in the still sunshine. Watching them idly at first, she began, after a time, to remember that these very leaves had taken tha sun and dew of spring; and all the freshness and fragrance of those earlier days came back to her with a sndden thrill, stirring her with emo tions which she had believed to be al most dead. How toon the autumn of her life bad cornel It was tranquil; it might be sweet; bnt the gladness of springtide is the one irrecoverable joy that, in this world, can never be granted to us again. She was no longer bitter and deso late, yet the sense of a lost- youth (which comes ofteneT to those still young, than to the old) wss too strong for her at this moment Something arose In her throat; the tears filled her eyes, and she thought she would allow thsm to flow without restraint. They did flow and plenteously. Once set flowing they would not. stop,, for thoughts and memories came crowding after them. Every sccno in her brief experience seemed to be suddenly re vived at this moment; voices, long hushed, were calling to her from the past, and drowning all the sounds of the present. The habit of self-restraint, so constantly cultivated for the sake of others, was broken through at last. When at length her bowed head was lifted, some one spoke to her in a calm tone that she had heard before. Hhe looked up, startled and yet strangely quieted, and met the gaze of the speak er. It was Mr. Sidney, the chaplain. . "You are in troublo," said the quiet voice, with its penetrating sweetness. "You are in trouble, and you need help and comfort" As ho stood there, tall and of digni fied bearing, she found courage to glance at him a second time. lie was a man who looked as if he could stand alone without a single prop; and al though he bad a most benign face, It wore an expression of authority. Whilo he was speaking Olive had dried her last tears, and she answered hlui with' a gentle frankness that touched him. - "I havo bad sorrow, but it is over," she said. "I came here becauso the place is so still and restful; and then I began to cry unawares." "You are looking tired." lie was watching ber narrowly, and read the signs of quiet patience in her beautiful young face. "Do-you live for off?" . "Oh, not I live with my uncle who Is a bookseller close by. Lost Sunday I came here for the first time. It was a surprise to oome suddenly on this green spot; I had been longing for a sight of grass and trees,' for I was born in the . country." ' " . 1 Tho chaplain knew well enough that this shady nook bad been refuge to mnny who were "born in the o-ntry.M lie had seen men and women come here to renew the youth of tho spirit under these trees. There are few spots loft now in the heart of London where old memories may live and grow. Tlicn he talked to Olive of tho ancient churoliyard and its history; and of other things; and she listened and wondered a little at her own perfect unrestraint in his presence. She would not have won dered, perhaps, had she realized that he had been directing people's lives for years, learning their griefs, and making himself fully acquainted with their hopes and fears and blunders. All sorts and conditions of men and women con fided their affairs to him. He could have told how Tom and Sue in tho court had got into the habit of knocking each other about the head; and why Lord and Lady Ulghtower in Mayfair never spoke a word nowadays, when they chanced to be left alone together. He possessed tho rare gift of unlocking hearts, and such ft gift is only held by one who is a born director and spiritual guide of men. Mr. Sidney had no mystical tenden cies. His llfo was too busy; he took too intense an interest in the lives around him to have time for mystical thoughts. He believed strongly in the helping power of human agency and had all kinds of questions referred to him by all kinds of persons. lie did not wrlto books; he preferred to live in people's hearts rather than on tho shelves of their libraries. Even his ser mons were rarely to be found in print, and in short ho was not ono of thoso men who desire to leave a great name behind them. To do his work thoroughly while he lived here; to lift others out of the slough of despond and lead them with a firm hand up to those de lectable mountains where his own soul rejoiced In pure air, this was his dally task. Bcforo Ollvo left the old churchyard the chaplain had learned her simple his tory, and was quietly devising plans for her future good. She went back to the Wakes with a brighter face than she hod worn for many a day. "Uncle," she said, "I hove found a new friend; or, rather, ho has found me. It is Mr. Sidney." Samuel looked at her with a smile of infinite content "I have been waiting," bo answered. "I know a fresh wind would blow into you life, but I did not know what 'quarter it would come from." . CHAPTER XIV. ' SIAWAOO ATXSTOKE AT nOMK. ' "There Is no reason why I should not bring her to see pictures," said the chaplain.' "You say you can count upon Miss Vlllicrsr "Most certainly," Seaward answered. "Adeline is a comrade true and tried. Already she has seen Miss Winflcld in the flower-shop, and does not wonder Chat I want to know more of her. Thcra is not an atom of petty jealousy in Ade line; and rare quality in a woman she is always willing that a man shall be happy in bis own way. Poor girl! I wish I was quite lure about her hap piness." The chaplain' and the painter had dindd together' and were now talking quietly over a bright fire.; The weather was clear and cold; heavy curtains kept out all possible draughts; deep chairs invited rest; the warm light fell on paneled walls, painted by Seaward own hand. Here wore golden wheat ears, mingled With scarlet poppies and ox-eyed daisies; there .was a mossy bough( laden With blossom; a glimpse of shining water and dark rushes filled another panel; the next showed a frag ment of snowy woodland. It. was a perfect room to spend a winter evening in. It glowed with rich colors, and abounded in small arrangements for ease and comfort "She will soon be married, I suppose? Mrs. Villlers told me that tho time was almost fixed," said the chaplain. ' '."Granny wants to fix everything," cried Seaward, In an angry tone. "Nothing is definitely settled yet Adeline lias not made up her mind, and 1 begged her not to be hurried. Some times it occurs to me that we aro all using the poor girl very badly. She is more and more surprised at Claud's curious languor. No one has ever given her even the faintest hint of that dis astrous affair of his." "Has lie not got over that affair?" the chaplain asked. "No; and I don't believe he over will. He knows that he behaved like a scoun drel" "He wanted to marry Mrs. Villlers' companion. Was not thut It?" said Mr. Sidney. "Yes. My grandmother hod en gaged a young woman us muid, just as she was starting for the Tyrol. The girl , was singularly clever and beautiful, nnd.nctuitlly found her way into the old lady's affections. When they returned she was no fcnger maid, but companion. And then Claud met her in the house In Curzon street and straightway fell In love." "They must have attracted Mrs. Vil llers' notice," said tho chaplain. "She is keen-sighted, I fancy." ''No; sho was quite blind. Moreover her mlrM was steadily set o.i marrying Claud to Adeline, and she thought of nothing else. It was a pity that her eyes were not opened sooner." "Hut they were opened at last?" "Yes; just when tilings had gone so fur that it was a sin to interfere. Claud was passionately in love; and upon my word I beliove that tho girl was as good as gold. Ho had tho banns pub lished In a church that was never at tended by anyone he knew, and every thing was arranged botween the pair. They were to steal off early on a Mon day to be married; but on the preceding Sunday tho plot was discovered." ' "How?" asked tho chaplain. "I can hardjy telL ' It was the house keeeper who had set a watch, I think. Anyhow, Mrs. Villlers burst upon them in a storm of fury, and tho companion was sent out of the house that very day. She thought, of course, poor girl, that her lover would keep his word at all costs,' but she leaned upon a broken reed. He did follow her, but It was only to bewail his own woukness and beg to be set free." The chaplain's contempt was too strong to be put into words; and Sea ward went on: "He got his release, it seems, easily enough. The girl was as proud as an empress, too proud even to load him with reproaches. Sho let -him go in si lence, and then vanished out of his life forever. He does not even know whether she Is living or dead." There was a pause, a flame leaped up brightly, shining on the chaplain's thoughtful face, which looked sterner now than Aylstone had ever seen it be fore, When Mr. Sydney broke the hush he spoke in a tone of deep indig nation. "And you will let Miss Villiers marry ber cousjn without hearing a word of this story, Aylstone?" " ' ' "She came In one day quite gayly, and told me that she was engaged to Claud," Seaward replied, "I went to him, and urged him strongly to tell Adeline ev ery thing. - But he had given grand mother a solemn promise to say noth ing. And so the engagement has gone dawdling on; the man always depressed and conscience-stricken, and the girl puzzled and dissatisfied!" , "Hut it onght not to go on. You know that?" "Yes; I have been hoping against hope; trying to believe that a wrong thing would come right. At first I thought that Adeline, bright and at- TRET WERK NOW TALBUX3 QU1BTLT. tractive as she Is, would help Claud to begin a no w life and a no w love. Hut I buve never been happy about the mat ter; and I see plainly that Claud cannot forget" .., "You have all behaved cruelly to Miss Villlers," said the chaplain uncompro misingly. "If this story is hushed up before marriage It Is sure to come out afterw.ards. And if I judge Adeline Villlers rightly she is a woman who would suffer acutely under the blow of such a disclosure. Hesldcs this ill-used girl may reappear?" 1 : "I havo thought of that," Seaward answered sadly. "And yet I fancied that she would not live long ; after Claud's desertion. Hers was the kind of beauty that ono always associates with early decay." "Then she was very beautiful?" . ' "Would you like to see her portrait?" said Aylstone. "I made a study of her head." u The chaplain assented, and 6ar fi led the way . upstairs to the 6tuh.' Then he turned up the lamps, and went to a corner where two or three unframed pictures were leaning against the wall. . . ....... . "I always meant to put her into a group," he said. "I had an idea In my mind, but I never carried it oat and then she disappeared; and somehow I have never carod to look often at this.1' a turned the canvas to the light and showed a pure delicate face, and a soft mass of golden hair, in which was a spray of jessamine. Only the head was finished; some filmy drapery gathered loosely round the shoulders, was put In with a few careless touches. Dnt it was life-like countenance that looked back on the gazers with beautiful melancholy eyes and a faint smile. "I have not flattered ber in the least" remarked Seaward, and then, without further comment he carried the picture out of the light ond put it gently down in tho corner once more.. Only, this time the face was not turned towards the wall. They went downstairs and parted somewhat gravely In the baU. ''On Saturday afternoon," the chap lain said, "I will bring Miss Winflcld." Ho went out Into the London night and Seward returned to the fireside and meditated, until the warmth and quietness drew bint away into dream land. In slocp be saw the fair face hovering near another, whose richer, doj-kcr. beauty was always in his wok-' ing thoughts. And It seemed to him that the golden-haired woman looked at him with mute entreaty as if pray ing that thebrownrcyed girl might have a happier fate than her own.- ' ' ' He woko op suddenly with two lines of an old song ringing in his ears, and and then he remembered that the man who wrote that song was resting somcr where under the green grass of the old Savoy churchyard. He went up to his room with a firm step and a resolute heart, singing George Wither,' well known words in an undertone:- "If she love me, this believe, I would die ere she should grlevo." Seaward Aylstone had gone regularly to the chapel on Sundays for years. Ho belonged to tho crowd of deep thinkers and earnest brain-workers who gath ered round Mr. Sidney, and found rest and refreshment in his teaching. There was a freshness and quietness in the chaplain's sermons; his voice guided his hearers to the green pastures and still waters of life, and Seaward, who was an eager toller, spending himself on his art felt the good of this restful influ ence. Ono day he saw Olive among the con gregation and followed her, as we have seen, to her own door. Other Sundays came, and he saw her again and again, and he longed to speak to her and know her. And then he opened his mind to the chaplain. , .. . . Mr. Sidney already knew something of Samuel Wake, and hod gone to the book-seller's house and talked to Olive In her own home. It did not surprise him that Seaward had fallen in love with this girl's face, for tho face had a soul shining through it and Seaward was not the man to linger over a lamp without a flame. Nor did it surprise htm that tho painter should frankly ask for his help in the matter. He was ac customed, as we know, to give counsel to the perplexed, and aid to those who could got assistance from no other quarter. Moreover, ho knew that a man's "fancy," whether bred "In the heart or In the head" may develop into one of those deep loves which are tho blessing or the the curse of life. Every love affair is a mystery, and. thoso who bring two persons together do not know whether they strike the first nete of a dirge or a Te Deum. CHAPTER XV. "rr is mjct." It waa a red-letter day with Olive when Mr. Sidney took her to the paint er's studio. She had been to the exhibition of the Eoyal academy with Uncle Wake, and he had pointed out all the works of great artists. She had stood spellbound be fore a picture of Seaward Aylstone'a and had tried afterwards to describe It to Michael. Iiut Michael never had patience enough to listen to descrip tions. He always grudged every mo ment that was not spent in talking about himself. , Two visitors were alreody in the studio when they went in. Miss Vil liers was there, charmingly dressed, and she came forward and held out ber hand to Olive. In the background was a tall, weary young man, whose face was like an ivory camoo, perfectly cut and colorless. And the girl remembered afterwards that his proud, unhappy look had chilled her for a moment . But she waa a little agitated on her en trance, and answered the first words addressed to her with a bright blush, which reminded Aylstone of the day when he saw her under the larches at Eew. " Her nervousness vanished when she turned to the pictures. Here were poets, soldiers, statesmen, whose names were well known In the history of our own times. Here were women, fair and stately, .whose beauty had won them a transitory fame; and children who smiled fresh and rosy from the canvas. And there were other pictures, full of mystlo meaning; angels watch ing on the summits of the everlasting hills; a man standing on the bank of a dark river and looking across to the other side, where a woman walked in solemn light While she gazed the painter talked to her, explaining this and that well pleased when she gained confidence enough to ask- questions. Mr. Sidney stood a little apart and chatted with Adeline, while Claud Villlers, standing near his cousin, hardly spoke at all. Seaward had led his visitor to the far end of the studio, and Adeline, near the fire, was still talking to the chaplain, when a faint cry from Olive startled them all. TO DK CONTINUKU.J "STICK TO YOUR LAST." Thar Is Mora Damanit for Hbo.ni.keT . Than Thar la for Philosophers. Some of our young people have read till they - are crazed of learned black smiths who, at the forge, conquered thirty languages; and of shoemakers who, pounding sole-leather, got to be philosophers; and milliners who, while their customers were at the gloss trying on thebr spring bats, wrote a volume of first-rate poems. The fact is, no black smith ought to be troubled with' more than five languages, and, instead of shoemakers becoming philosophers, we would like to turn our surplus of phil osopher into shoemakers, and the sup ply of poetry is so much greater than the demand that we wish milliners would stick to their business. Extraor dinary examples of work and endur ance may do as much harm a good. Because Napoleon slept only three hours a night hundreds . of student have tried the experiment; but Instead of AusterllU and Saragossa, there cam of It only a sick headache and a botch of recitation. We are told of how many books a man can read in the five spare minutes before breakfast, and the ten minutes at noon; but I wish some one could tell us how much rest a man can get In fifteen minutes after dinner, or how much health in an hour's horse back ride, or how much fun In a Satur day afternoon of cricket ' He who has such an idea of the value of time that he takes none of it for rest wastes all his time. Talmoge, in N. Y. Observer. CONCERNING DREAMS. The Joys and Sorrows That Ooeopr the Mind of tha Sleeper. The whole cosmos Is in a man's brains as much of it, at least a man's brains will hold; perhaps it is nowhere else. And when sleep relax the will and there are no earthly surroundings to distract attention no duty,' pain or pleasure to compel it riderless fancy take the bit In it teeth and the whole cosmos goes mad and has its wild will of us. Ineffable false Joys, unspeakable false terror and distress, strange phan toms only seen a in a glass darkly chose each other without rhyme or reason and play hide and seek across the twilight field and through tho dark recesses of our clouded and imperfect consciousness. And the false terrors and distress, however 1 unspeakable, are no worse than such real terrors and distress a m.to only too often the waking lot of man, or even so bad; but the ineffable false joys transcend all possible human felicity while they last, and a little while it Is! . We wake, and wonder, and recall the slight foundation on which such ultra human bliss has seemed to rest. ' What matter the foundation If but the bliss be there and the brain has nerve to feel it? From "Petor IbboUon,1 in Uarper's Magazine. - ': ; " ' ; A Famons Haok Rid I . Washington's most famous ride Was whon ho took a hacV t the tree, At D 1701. . . . . .-','., . ..-..' No Money Required of Responsible formerly of New York, now The France Medical and Surgical Inslj tute, of Columbuh, Ohio. iy request of mnny friends and patiaijte, hut, iJecidii! to vigil Wellington O , Monday, May 9, 1892. Consultation nnrl Ii,XhH.lnsfi.i. r'r in! irctlj Confidential ii too Private Parl nf the American h.unr iimiiii) in to 0 (1, ui. onutay only . The Franc-Menlci I ndSurgicnl InstituU on :i ij.ioilitit. M(. lailieonh Medics) Institution the Stsi Incorporated Willi a Chuiih'oi .t liV'.onn 00 PPK THE CELEBRATED EXAMINING PHYSICIAN OF THE FRANCE MEDICAL, AND SURGICAL IXSTITUTB. 33 & 40 W. Gaj SL, out tloct sort! of Stall EoQst ColnmtmsA tocorpentefl 1336. capital 1300,001 - D. f A MCI, of New York, the well known and aucceflfal 8pec.al.At In Chronto Dlwawt ami Dtmiueeof the Eve and Kar. on account of hl In rue practice in Ohio, has eitaliluhwi theraAXCfi kKDICAL IHCTXrUtX, where all forma of Carealo, Vmm ttd TrtnU DUuim will U taocuthllr truua t- VMrttelntlfloprlftcipltl. He l ably assisted by a full corpiof tmineni Physician iHtSurKort. CA NVh'RpotUi v If cured without pain or ue of the knife by a newnnd never-failing methw- ZMfOHTANT TO IAOHS. Da. raaMca, after years of experience, htudlsoovere (he rreatesteuro known for all diseases peculiar to tho sex. Female disouMS positively cured hv tha new and novcr-folUnK remedy, O1V0 tilommnm. The enre Is efltrtru by home troat meat. Entirely harmlow, and easily applied.. CWflULTaTIOH HIM AUD BTfilCTtY COKncniTlAX t CUBIWO Or PILKS OUABAjrTBBIX-Win flv Bfioa fer mj mm M Uuur K boa $ rsjlml af tMpwi I TOtntd U BN-wtw km brnmem vWttas of Hter? m. ' ftj4rMMirjl ftatf eUMraeUf lublt, whisk ftOBiaJlr M m t ly ern ijioii f f we et wi4 W 4 fcrlUUM IkHUott, m; mU wltk mbAOmm. I Dat. FKAlf CBAftor yf f xpaim, kit ai o r4 ' grttum tan kmi Ik wiUmi im Um bok tnt liafa. Muitrr tUtobwM, hotoMMf, Caoval dttliUv, ttoh . hut, MfjfwtM f tdu, twlplutloa. af tb hrt, Usldllr, HIM, 41MMM mt ffai. r f ItUiMM, dlniiu bmd. tnrt, mm, M ail a. ft Uam U Urn. iamf, Hmtea, or taM ttKTlMa iitorr trtilBf tnm Ik potiwj vlMof Mia b4 Mra pracUoM, WlfhUnf Uttr MM radian kopM r MttotpMtoma, mtterioa uvrta ffMlhf Tu at M41S UkMfhl Wlbra It b to Uu. A H or snit mf MMtTHttM Sf j4 Oaf meft f . My MMtbod mt tTMK Mat sill apMdilr tot parauwkUj tar bk aMM Mtikkat MM Sal akMMhMj NMM Mffatt hold. ' 90 MIDDLB-AQBD MFN. Tbtft en away freatti fa af M w SB waa af ImbM with frtqvMnl araekaUM af lb kLadaar, afWa miapnilii by s atifht bvrnlaf ar anarUai mo aactoa. VMaaalag taa trtstta to ft maaar Um patuat aaaaol null tot. Oa atamlaaUaa af Uta arlaary dvporiu tvvf asduMat will ka ft, aad aMMtlaiaa anall MMleta af albtf Skta will aapaar, ar tbaaaiar will b a ihla ar aiilitak baa. arift akMiaglaadarkMlMaiftpaaartiw. Thar ara anr ava , IM 4M f kU dil&eaUj, Usataab af lb un vaiaft I a FREB EXAMINATION 07 THB UHUJB. Each person applvinjr for modlml treat mentsnouldsendor brinfr from I to souncesof nrlnethat passed first la the morning preferred;, which will receive a careful chemical and micrnscoplcal exaininatlon. Persons ruined in health by unlearned pretenders, who aep triflinr with them month after month, giving poisonous aad injurious oompoaads, should apply Immediately, nf nunrnritl rtiinrn Pitrfortfld In old rsaea which bAvn been, nerlected or unskillful)? flUllULilrUL LUUlO treated. No experiments or failures. Parties treated by mail anJcrnroM, but where poasible personal consultation is preferred. Curable caaea ffuaranteetaa rm " Cae and corretuondenc. con AtlentlaU Lutol IWQUetttooairat Aooreaa wua pueumu Patented March 1, 1892, By T. POLAND, ' Wellington, 0. 4860 . 1892 The . Oldest Furniture Store in Town !! i ; Having had 37 competitors and still lives. 4f IBlIflEls. Of all designs can be had a' our rooms at livtog prices. Undertaking attended to with the usual promptness, accompanied by a Funeral Director. HEFAXRXHC A SPECIAI.TT. A, a & G ATTENTION, FARMERS AND CITIZENS. To my nlil and new patrons:' This is to lot you know that I am still at th saino old tnnd which 1 hare occupied for the past seven rears and am on hand with a fresh supply of garden and field seeds in bulk of the best kind and the latest varieties. Also the liirgiKt and bBt stock of farm implements and ma chinery that was ev.r in tLe town of Wellington. I am agent for the world-renowned Tuekeye mowers, and grain harvesting machin ery of all styles. ' - . I keep the boet kind of binder twino and machine oils, eight varieties of disc htrrows, nine different makes of plows, the Planet Jr. cultivator of ail styles, the Superior grain drills, the latest and most, improved hay rakes and tedders, cultivators, land rollers etc. TI10 Chespcake Guano Co. fertilirers, the best on earth for spring and fall crops. Call and see me before purchasing. Price as low as the lo west. West side North Main-st. in T. Doland's block Wellington. - Part iss to Commence Treatmei ' ataMaf atnlaal waftara. W will rnartntrt arf . ara to ail h aM, and a ftMiiby ratiMaUoa of Uw (aak anaafj Mgaaai . ( PRXTATB DX8BA8BS Bkaat Hhm, aaanaj Tab. Olvtt, BuUut, BBlasl .ajiMtoBB, Im af Bctaal fan. WrakaaM a( Saiaal Orrt-ot, Waal of Daatra la Mat ar FmmJ whttbar fraai fcaiaradaai hahiuaf voita ar Miual babltaaf lura raara, ar any cbm Utai debilitate tb wiaal ruaaiUa pardilr aatt aatoaaaraUf carat. CoaiultaUoa Itm aad atrial i ooaftdaaliaL AbatUM oaraa iwaraaiant. Ka rJha la -arrt C4rnoo aroiaptlr aaiwrad, an madloiBM Mai ft, tnm akaarr aUaft a U aartt af tka I'ailad Slataa, DIBS A SCB OF WOXXW.-W bar a aprdal aVfaf aval, iWouuhif arffaoUrd, and Savaivd Ycuthrt w U Utaiawai af dlataaM af toari. a tar 7 aa eaoalt1n( a aprciaUat, whtar by laiitr at la parMa. la tlrea tha moat car fal aad Maatdwaf aiuaikw. Itaporuol eaxa (aad wt gat a whUb bar aot barflad Iba akillof alt lb b"tn (.htkiaai) bat lhbafllf afullaaaell af aitllad aparuiuu. la traauaat f dUeaaa pMuhar fc famalM, our taecaa b bera tnarkad, mwi watairda af aar patirat hWai tadiM, aid, raanx . aunt Int It, rich aad poar. Oar airtbod la rnttrrlj im froa ob)ar Uaaabk fcitura af tb fraaral praeUiioaar, panel, Laa trjaUBaL" Wa arMota Ond u ary. W prtpar raK dtM, aoaatUatlsoal aod taeal, ta aM AaSlftatla, bud UaUffe ladlaa bow ta traat lbaa.Mlra. TTTtBPBT, OB FIIwVMilfftl mrad wy S bw as aatar-faiUai ajMbaA. Trcatmnitwnt U. U. I. toanvnartnf U.M. rrniairTitaunit Vs, s luaiiY imitm . n, sb. raABCE. a. 39 w. gj cu. couwss&g. L COUGHa : ;. R. P.. A D A M Si