Richmond Hill Public Library News Index

The Liberal, 7 Sep 1893, p. 2

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knowing me as she did, and the strength of convictions founded upon principles learned from herself, could she imagine that the exchange of words between the son of the murdered Woman and herself could afiect the damning fact that severed the victim’s child from hers? In her anxiety to make up to her wedded lord for possible damage done his reputa'ion by dutiful ac- quiesence in his decree, to win him to forgetfulness of their joint and disastrous blunder, had she no thought for two lives that acquiescence and that blunder had wrecked ‘Z I had no one with whom to discuss the haunting problems. To no one could I have propounderl them except to the man with whom I dared not allow myself to confer. He had not protested against what I had assured him was my ultimatum, nor had he called upon my mother or myself. Not that he furnished food for gossip by shunning the house. In defiance of popular opinion took Elsie to walk or drive every fine day. I made but one stipulation when he wrote a note to me asking permission “to perform this brotherly otfiee to the child, whose langnor and growing thinness had excited his uneasiness, as he was sure they must mine.” I thanked him in my reply for his solicitude, and gratefully accepted the ode: of what,would delight Elsie and soon bring back her lost bloom. I begged, how- ‘ ever,that no reference should be made to the i changed relations between him and myself. 1 She must know everything before long, but I would not grieve her while she was so far from well. To carry out the pious conceal- ment, I used to go to the drawing room window to see her off, receiving Don's bow with the kiss she tossed back to me as they drove or walked away. My heart hai no other sustenance than these chance glimpses, beyond my little sister‘s affections. I stood forlorn and al- most forgotten on the outside of the fenced garden at my mother’s heart. Since what “our special correspondent ” still alluded to once in a while as the “ late scandal in best circles,” I held myself haughtin aloof from village intimates. Mrs. Wilcox and Kate had gone to a New Yoxk hotel for a couple of months and in their absence calls of friendliness and ceremony became fewer and fewer. Mrs. Robb had forced her way in twice, and seen no one except Dr. Went- worth. At the third visit, paid after his installation as nurse, she was civilly inform- ed at the door that “ all the family were engaged." It was an impolitic measure, but what mattered that ‘? \Ve were a marl-:- ed household. We had been “talkc(labout;” our private affairs had “got into the papers.” The Mapleton elite had always as formulated in “Our Society Column." he ‘ our private affairs had “got into the papers.” The Mapleton elite had always mud stifled scruples concerning the reception into full and regular fellowship in their order of a woman who could write “ ;\I.D.” after her name and had actually practised her profession to maintain herself and younger child. It was odd, if “all was right ” in her first marriage that Dr. Salis- bury’s will should have settled a consider- able and specific sum upon his first-born and left the widow and baby unprovided for. Under the shield of Dr. Weutworth’s name and character, his wife could have lived down unpleasant rumors had she been con- tent to deport herself as a. gentlewomau should. By overruling her husband’s better judgment in her thirst for unfemininc pur- suits, she had ruined herself and injured him. “C.A.R.” led a lively crusade against women doctors, in which half the papers in the country took part. Thanks to this agitation, the nine-days’ wonder was deb-at. ed for twenty-sevenâ€"anrl more. People looked up at our house in passing, and a sketch of Donald Upton at his mother‘s grave illustrated one of a series of newspa- peLlettcrs upon “our suburban ceinctries.” These were the circumstances which Don choose to advertise his ued connection with us by the only left to him. Ile rarely showed h'ur our streets unaccompanied by Elsie had not returned to school. \Vitho sulting my mother, I assumed the re bility of keeping her z.t home. She not be ostracized or baited by sup): As Elsie regained her form lost strength, appetite, and int A CLOSE RELATION CHAP‘ I‘ER IX neared sublimity devo- ty. His patience was ices for enlivening the uarded chamber were .ustible. He contrived have sneerea wooing, had tbe>patient e respox :. l'eople ng, and a ; mother’s pf newspa- eme tries. ” >es under is contin- nly means up the r. The my ere led his ich .rm md 1nd so raw man 1 propriety of a with her usua. fur boa. about Window thzou pedestrians un a. remote tul had danced d< meet Don, hav t 111 She istence. S.) nothing hurt dull satisfam lost susc window through which I had watched the pedestrians until they were lost to sight at a remote turn of their route. Elsie had danced down the walk to the gate to meet Don, having been on the lookout for him. Her small face and head seemed to move with difficulty in the grey flutfiness from which they arose when she waved her farewell. The sparkle of eyes and smile reminded me of a planet twinkling out of a cloud. A fair and Winsome thing was this one possession of mine, and I was never so entirely satisfied as to her safekeeping and happiness as when she was thus accompan- ied. A hard pain assailed my heart, and a tightness my throat, at the anticipation of her distress when the truth should be un- folded to her. It was singular that she re- mained so long utterly unsuspicious of a rupture that involved much to her and much more to me whom she ardently loved. “ I beg your pardon.” said my step-fath- er’s voice at my elbow. He smiled slight- ly and not agreeably at my start; there was exaggerated respect in theinclination of his Antinous head before me,â€"â€"lorn, and esteem- ‘ed by few. and by none less than by him- self. “ Can you spare me a. few minutes ‘2" he inquired, ceremoniously. I had nothing to do, and nobody knew this better than he. 'I sat down, and waited for him to begin. Ours were elegant parlors, and they used to be cosin home-like. The arrangement of the furniture was not altered, yet as I glanced listlessly around me they had the look of a body out of which the spirit had fled. Chairs and sofas were stiffer for my knowledge that they had not been sat in for days; the walls were dead because it had been so long since they threw back merry sounds. It might have been an accidental choice of positions that brought Dr. \Ventworth’s hack to the light while I faced the windows looking down the street. The row of elms massed along the vista were like clumps of dun mist, so fine and thick was the lace- work of naked twigs. The highway was black with wet, and fitful passions of wind carried hurrying flocks of dead leaves before Lhem. The clouds were not heavy, but they were a. continuous curtain, and drawn closely down behind the hills. The scene was lightless; the room felt chilly when Dr. \Ventworth began to speak : “ You may anticipate the tenor of my communication ; so I need not waste time in prefatory remarks. As matters stand, you must see that it would not be expedi~ ent or pleasant that we should continue to live in Mapleton. Did not your mother's health require a change of residence, the attitude of the community with regard to her demands it, and imperativer. Weâ€" she and Iâ€"have therefore decided to sail for Europe early in January, even before then, should she be strong enough for the voyage. Elsie would naturally accompany us. You, being of age and mistress of a sufficxent fortune, must use your own pleas- ure as to going or staying. Should you prefer to go, there will be (£110 diilieulty in letting this house furnishe . If, as your mother inclines to believe, you should ob- ject to becoming one of the party, she suggests that Mr. Donald Upton’s wish would probably be to hasten your mar- riage. I offer no advice, or even opinion, on the subject.” He had not thrown away a word. The dilemma, aononchalanlly stated,so horrible to me, was before me. Mapletou of late had been dreary and inclement to our shorn fold. but it was home, and Don was in it. I might never speak to him again, or touch his hand, but we bredthed the same air; there were blessed whiles in which our paths crossed one another, when the sight of him was vouchsafed to my weary eyes, and Elsie’s prattle of him kept my heart from starvation. And the alternative,â€" brutally set torth if my tormentor suspect- ed the truth, brought forth in indifference as brutal if he were ignorant,â€"â€"bow was I to exclude it from the discussion? how break off here and now all talk of has teuiug what was never to be ? - " I beg your pardon,”said my step-father again, in dry civility. “ How long will you probably remain My lips were stiff and cold ; my voice died in my throat in the first elfort to artic- ulace. abroad ‘2" He shrugged his shapely shoulders. “That will depend upon health and in- clination. We shall not revisit Mapleton for several years, and may decide to spend those years on the other side. Your mother remarked this afternoon that if you were already married and sett‘ed here, and desired particularly to have your sister with you, she might be prevailed upon to leave her in your charge. Unless placed in uforeign boarding-school, a. child of that age gets little good from going abroad. That is a. matter that can be settled later. It is ccntingcn t, of course, upon your action and Mr. Upton’sz” For an instant fancy slipped the leash of reason, and leaped forward joyously toward the picture conjured up by his last utter- ances. A house and home of my own,â€" Don's house and mine,â€"w1th Elsie :0 have and to hold, and the ocean between us and the man who had robbed me of evervbhing Don's house and to hold the man wh else of wor my head an Gldém and chi before I attempt? thin prise 1211 tion.” 1': Ice. S.) apathetic did iug hurt me much or 1: satisfaction in'the b1 susceptibility to pain. 'om this delusion I wu arthqunke. One Nov: aw that I had doubted nnety of allowing Elsi‘ 1 her usual escort, and -morrow." He too, ha» n,” nsm; iured for 3 matter ‘ )ll i991 1b boâ€"arding-scliool, a. child of that little ggod iron} going a»l)_roa.d. )rth ansen that. )ill had wrapped me close ed to reply. ken me so entirely by sur- ;t. have time for delibera- :nd what I could not have her instant. “I will think and give you my answer The heav I the window, ev to the chances of coldly and wound my own at, I lmgered at the 1 I had watched the were lost to sight at their route. Elsie walk to the gate to xon the lookout for ting t [uzll to rre vity long. belief Lid my step-fath- [e smiled slight- 'start ; there was inclination of his Join, and esteem- to pi be in ieved tl that mu iless glory sai on that us and 'ybhing above ,dently storm, spirit desp‘ sufTo ju surgin upon one anothe as brine, stinging like h: ing WhatI did, or why, of the house bought with the house in which E1: and from which this man band, had the right to street, was intolerable, : hall-rack a. shawl, and g shelter of the roof that ( mother who had forsa mother who had forsaken her first-born. Like one pursued, 1 paced up one garden- alley and down another, unmindfnl bliat the fall of night brought with it fine, cold rain, until I saw Elsie's shadow moving restless- ly about my room, appearing upon and passing from the curtains of the illuminated “ I have been looking everywhere f0 you l” she cried,when I had dragged mysel up to her. “ I thought. you were lost. Fie fie ! what a naughty girl to stay out 0 doors until she is wet to the skin and a] the curl out of her pretty hair! Oh, I hai the loveliest walk ! Sit; down, and I’ll tel you all about it." She pulled off my Wet swathings, rubbe my damp cheeks with her warm hands, and pushing me into a chair, perched hersel upon my knee. Her eyes shone; dimple danced about her mouth. How much goo WU] the most ga cence ever I caught kissed her ( sometime. that we we] dénced Elboub her mout Don had done her! ‘ I caught my darling to my heart, and kissed her over and over. I had to tell her, sometime. It could no longer be kept, now that we were going away forever. For this was the resolution I had taken in my rest- less tramp in the dripping shrubbery. My mother did not care what became of either of us, so long as her husband accompanled her, but for all that, we ought to go with her. There was nothing else to do. Separa- tion would stir up further scandal comprom- ising her, and we had no other protector, â€"~Jt‘lsie and I. My heart bled slow drops as I summoned strength to say what would bring back the old, unchildlike worry to the dear taee, the piteous anxiety to her eyes. Yet,-if I let pass this opportunity, Dr. V’Ventworth might consider it obliga- tory upon him to break to her the news of our banishment, and her artless questioning would precipitate the rest of the revelation. I began in assumed carelessness, winding and burnishing upon my finger a. stray tress of her hair, which was the coior of a chest:- nut, fully grown and ripened in the sun- shine. “ I have heard something this a'ternoon, deanâ€"something that: surprised and shock- ed me,"â€"quickening speech as the remem- bered shadow stole into place. “ Doctor says mamma must go abroad. She may not: come back for along time.” ‘She laid her arms'about my neck and her face upon my shoulder. “ Will in cute her, Sydney '2” in a low, awed tone. “ Oh, yes, I think so, little one. She is out of danger now, and the change will prob- ablflyr restore hgr entirgly.” Elsie was silent. I feared she was weep- ing, and when she spoke the cheerful tone took me by gurprise : I “ I can’t leave you, you know, sister. ‘ You can’t do without me since our great ‘ trouble came. And you ought not to leave Don. He never needed you half so badly before. You are all he has. So I’ve been thinking that you had better marry him and we three Will go on living here. Or, would you go to Don’s house '2" A needle pierced my soul with each naive sentence. I could not temporize longer. “Elsie! listen to me. Maybe I ought to have told you before, but I dreaded to undeceive you. Don and I will never be married. Don’t ask me why. And don’t make it harder for me than it is now. And don’t let this make you unhappy if you can help it." She did not cry out, or tremble : only sat bolt upright, eyes shining out of a clear face from which every drop of blood had retreated. For perhaps two minutes she was perfectly still ; then the great, lumin- ous eyes came around to rest upon mine. Her mind was made up. Her accents were ‘ resolute. When “ the midget " looked and ‘spoke in that fashion, fire and water could not stay her. “I must ask you, Sydney! Don loves you so that it would be wicked not to marry him. \Vhy, sister! he has nobody but you that belongs to him, now that his mother is dead.” It: Her mouth worked, but she would not give in until her protest was ended. “ I’ve noticed that you didn’t see much of him lately, but I supposed you wrote to one another every day, and ’twasn’t strange that it should make papa feel bad to meet himjust now. I thought he stayed away on that account, and that when mumma on that account, and that when. mamm'a came downstairs Don would be here“ again, just as usual.” She was feeling her Way, inch by inch. The perception of this and her glance over her shoulder at the door gave me the idea that she longed to say something confiden- tial, yet which she fancied I might not ap- prove. She must not learn to be afraid of me. \Ve were, hereafter, to be all in all to one another. “ What is it love?” I queried. “ Speak out all that is in your wise liable head.” She shook it soberly, and put a. hand to each temple. “ It isn’t wise, but there is so much in it that it aches sometimes, especially since you told me never to speak again of what I can’t: help thinking of all the tlme.” ” After this, say what you please,” said I, mournfully. “ Nothing can hurt me. And if it did, this dear head must not be left; to ache if I can help it. It isn't good for my baby t_o think of things she can’t door i bk alk out t “ I have known all the time what made mmma ill, why it chited her to have papa. the room until she could see Don and ex- ration c a whis'per; she glance ache if y baby 1t to me soberne done her! God bless him! 011 him! for the most loyal friend gallamtl champion, oppressed inno r found. ° id of 1 ‘flonelil )ven an" en looking everywhere for J,when I had dragged myself thought. you were lost. Fie ! mughty girl to stay out of e is wet to the skin and all her pretty hair! Oh, I had ’alk ! Sit; down, and I’ll tell been was not ass that enveloped and of the wild impulses .her, icy waves, bitter ‘ hail. Hardly know- y, except that; the air ,th my father’s money, Elsie had been born, nan, my mother’s hus- bo thrust me into the a, I snatchei from the 1 got. myself from the ,9; covered him and the vself htened, but she )wus little more ed again at the the the the the serious, and 1 was wondering what had happened to Worry her, when all of a sudden I smelled chloroform. You know there is no mistaking the smell. Mamma must have noticed it too, for she jumped up and dashed right past me through the hall Lo Mrs. Upton’s bedroom. I ran after her,â€"I was so frightened,â€"and Isuppose she forgot all about me. Mrs. Upton was lying on the lounge, and papa. was holding a. handkerchief toher face. He hadabottle in his other hand. Mamma. flew right at him. and snatched the bottle, and threw it across the room. Then she fell on her knees by the lounge and began to fan Mrs. Y ton, and said, as I never heard her speal below, ‘My God, Raymond! what have you done?’ Then Miss West came running in from the other room, and I felt I ought not to stay. And the next thing I hearthâ€"you know the rest, Sydney!” My head was so light and the room spun so rapidly about me that I could summon and I took it to Mrs. called mamma. out, < room to get; it. I pic afterward from the thrown it. It was f1 this was what; it said Don’t run the risk.’ pieces. Mamma. was ihought not When she re gather Light wnpn she is sat down at; to fill up a. t! to suit her, a another. 5 no wet the 113. the wi weeks. tale. w fell on her knees by the lounge and began to fan Mrs. ' ton, and said, as I never heard herspeal before, ‘My God, Raymond! what have you done?’ Then Miss \Vest came running in from the other room, and I felt I ought not to stay. And the next thing I hearthâ€"you know the rest, Sydney!” My head was so light and the room spun so rapidly about me that I could summon no words. The frozen quietudo deceived the narrator. It was not for nothing that the wise head had been thinking all these weeks. The low, steady tone resumed the tale. when I did not reply: “ I would have told you everything that day, you recollect, but you said, ‘We must never speak to one another again of what has happened.’ And I thought that you must understand how mamma felt. She loved Mrs. Upton so dearly, and she just warships papa. And although What was done was an accident he must have known that she was opposed to it, :or he wouldn’t have given the chloroform when she was not :in the room. Ithink the reason it made her worse to see him when she was so ill was that it brought everything back to her. And, afterward, when she was better, she was very sorry for him, and sorry she had seemed angry. She is trying to make up to him now, all the time, and to comfort him. He must sufi'er dreadfully when he thinks what he did.” “ Suffer !” ejaculation burst forth, with impassioned energy that alarmed her. “ Suffer '. when he has let everybody think that she did it,â€"not he ! On the hypocrite! the doubleâ€"eyed, heartless. cruel hypocrite! ,And all this time I, like a. foolâ€"â€"” noius gnocl ti prices are 10‘ in India be a India by a number of si be to throw i markets of tl at once to 33 ciating silvei gold 34 per c causing a ne' ties, measurt HOSG K Concludin; of the chain; trade betwei a. drop of so Is it not awi chants and l Lord Lans India, nskin ance to go t] ruination of was in the f( Governor of derstand th been passed be repealed A! The most Zealand is “ aweto.” call it an an stage of its 1 pillar abont and always rata tree, a. appears that I tore at. my throat, where something choked the words and strangled me to blindness. “Sydney!” the great gray eyes wide with horrified amazement, " did you think â€"â€"could you, or anybody, believe that our mother had killed Don’s mother? Oh, my poor dear! what you have had to bear, and nobody to help you or sell anything better 1” She wrapped my head in her arms. pat- ting and stroking it, sobbing and cooing as over something grievously hurt. Sud- denly she let: me go, and jumped up, face and figure alive with excitement. “And that was why you said you never could marry Don ‘2 Did you tell him?” The change to sternness would have amused me at another time. It actually cowed me instead. The mistake that had been so disastrous seemed now culpany in- excusable. “Don‘t blame me, Elsie l" I pleaded, humbly. “Miss \Vest told me how it had happened, and everything helped me to be- lieve her. I have been very, very un- happy Y" Shé compressed her lips, marched across the floor and put out her hand to the bell- knob, arrested the motion, and turned to me. “ May I have your phaeton. Sydney? and may John drive me ‘3 I must, see Don to-nighb, or [couldn’t sleep a wink. He mustn’t be left to believe this one minute longer.” ‘1 Do what, you please, dear.” I was crying outright, now, with the soft abundance of a spring shower. Rocks and ice were gone ; there were the awakening of life and the stirring of growth under the warmed waters. She did not ring, and my tears melted her sternness. She came over to me, and again took my head into her embrace. “I didn't mean to be unkind, Sydney. I was just thinking of Don, and how he didn’t get comfort when he needed it most, and holy he loves you, and all that. Don’t you suppose I understand why he is so good to me '2 Just. because I am your sister. Heis very lonely, Sydney.“ I had no answer. “ If you had seen him in his home, as I have, â€"aloue and MELâ€"missing his mother everywhere, and with ‘your picture-the one taken in your gray-aud-silver luncheon- gown â€"on his table, side by side with hers, and sighmg as he looks at them, you’d feel just as I do, only more, don’t you know, Sydney !” with a. tremendous muster of courage. “ Won’t you let me order the close carriageâ€"it’s raining, you seeâ€"and Sydney !” with a. tremendous mu courage. “Won’t you let me on close carriageâ€"it’s mining, you se go with me, this minute, to see him (To BE CONTINUED.) Types are not used in printing Persian newspapers. The “copy” is given to an expert penmun, who writes it out neatly. The various articles are then arranged in page form, and lithography multiplies 111 page to the copies. During 1» recent performance at Berue, the members of the lmvmg a grievance with a. newly conductor, organised a. general laid down their instruments. delay & pianoforte was brough and the last; act of the opera and Vt} with p 18.110 vhat it said: ‘Letter received. the risk.’ I tore it up into little llamma was unconscious. and I nobody else had a right to it. : read it she pressed her lips to- qht. You know how she looks is very determined. Then she at; Mrs. Upton’s desk and began a. telegraph-blank. It didn’t seem r, and she tore it up and began She looked very pale and and I was wondering what. act 01 the opera was rte accompaniment oulv rioht n hm floor {v from Dr head in her arms. put- it, sobbing and cooing grievously hurt. Sud- o, and jumped up, face HIV with ch Mrs. I (1 up t or who: there w} come fo ans Af re she Barker nrful t} fall ii impgtu you's npetuonS all, she ny baby, sh incon- n it hap- mamma. i Rosalie on’s bed- telegram she had ‘ker, and received. 11w little that, the penple of India sighted when they had a pension of free coinage. suspicion would be that; become scarce, and as a. c in time increase in value. of the rupee so brought the same effect upon pric appreciation of gold h: England. It would cause ofproduce to be afi‘ordm the rupee, which meant 8 prices and further cheapt of labor. Capital would if n it hap mamma .app‘ snrik 1 HI ril 1mm he} Jarmsn hestra, Jointed )me an lPFi, Concluding, Mr. Taylor said: “The result of the change is the entire suspension of trade between India. and China. Just fancy a. drop of some 30 rupees in every $100. Is it not awful? Some of the leading mer- chants and bankers of Hong Kong wired to Lord Lansdowne, Governor-General of India, asking him no: to allow the ordin- ance to go through, stating as a. reason the ruination of the Indian trade. The reply was in the form of a private telegram to the Governor of Hong Kong, giving him to un‘ derstand that the ordinance had already been passed and as he feared not likely to be repealed either." DOW only shillin Demonetising silver in India, which suspen- sion of free coinage of the rupee amounts to, would increase the gold value ot the rupee, and reduce the interest India has to pay England on her gold debt. Therefore taxa- tion could be reduced. The rupee being depreciated in value, the price of commodi- ties would decline, and laborers could only convert the surplus product of their labor into a. lesser quantity of coin, thus having less to give in exchange for reduced taxation and the necessaries or luxuries they desired. Produce being cheaper, the material for manufacture would be cheaper, and manu- factures would also decline, and if the theory that high prices denote prosperity holds good the reverse ought to occur when prices are low and demonetization of Silver in India he an unmixed evil. To remove India by a stroke of the pen from the number of silver consuming countries would be to throw one-fourth more silver on the markets of the world, and reduce the price at once to 33 pence per ounce, or by depre- ciating silver to that extent, it would make gold 34 per cent. more difficult to obtain,by causing a. new decline in prices of commodi- ties, measured in gold, of 25 per cent. Mn “3 T. T The most curious of all objects in New Zealand is that which the Maoris call “ aweto." One is uncertain whether to call it an animal or a plant. In the first stage of its existence it is simply a. cater pillar abont three or four in'ches in length, and always found in connection with the rata. tree, a. kind of flowering myrtle. It appears that. when it reaches full growth, it buriesitself two or threeinches underground, where, instead of undergoing the ordinary chrysalis process, it becomes gradually transformed into aplant, which exactly fills the body, and shoots up at- the neck to a height of eight or ten inches. This plant resembles in appearance a. diminutive bnl- rush ; and the two, animal and plant. are always found inseparable. One is apt to relegate it to the domain of imagination, among dragons and mermaids ; but then its existence and nature have been accepted by the late Frank Buckland. How it propa- gates its species is a. mystery. One travel- ler, after describing its dual nature, calmly states that it is the grub of the night butter- fly. If so, then the grub must also become a butterfly. or what becomes of the species? One would be ready to suppose that the grub does really so, and that some fungus finds the castâ€"oi? slough congenial quarters for its growth. But as far as present, observ- ation goes the grub never becomes a. butter- fly, but is changed in every case into a. plant.â€"[Chambers’s Journal. After the terribly trenchant literary im- pressions of a flying visit to Manitoba which have latelyrmadejthe intending emi- grant pause, a record of experiences in that lone land of illimitable expectation, entitl- ed “Sunny Manitoba : Its Peoples and its Industries,” by Alfred O. Legge ('1‘. Fisher Unwin), is at least welcome as a. relief. The author, if not absolutely disinterested in his confident views, since his visit to the colony was to his two sons settled on prairie farms, is no visionary enthusiast or adver- tising agent, but a keen, practical man of business, who takes stock of all he sees, and sums up results in figures. He is for from blinking the hardships of a settler, the self-denial and self-sacrifice which are involved in constant hard work and con- tsant isolation, the risks and uncertainties ofcultivating a. new soil and getting the produce to market, the dreariness of living far from any civilized society, the long periods when sunny is exchanged for icy, and labor is waiting for its fruits. The one simple lesson to be learnt from these use- ful and evidently trustworthy pages is that all depends on the fitness of the emigrant ‘ who casts in his lot with a. colony of pio- neers. Youth, energy, determination, a. capacity to spurn delight, and to be inde- pendent of social intercourseâ€"all these qualifications are indispensable, not only to success in such a venture, but to enduring it in the prospect of far-off reward. It is not a venture for blase Cynics who are sick of the artificial pursuit of old world socie- ties, but for younger men of unspoilt and untainted life, of vigorous temperament and fresh feelings, who prefer an out-of-door and open-air existence to all the pleasures of civilized societies and crowded cities.â€" [London Daily Telegraph. nL‘ ldi M r‘ ité fafher In most- suital give the 1 Mother no increase in value. But appreciation e rupee so brought about would have rune efl‘ect upon prices in India. as the :ciatiou of gold had upon prices in Lnd. It would cause greater quantities firm: to be afforded in exchange for upee, which meant a. further decline in s and turther cheapeniug of the value )1», Capital would benefit. by this, as currency in India. was established upon (1 basis. Silver would be usad in India for the purpose of adornment, and the 2 would perform the functions of a mg. The question, however, had [1051;- 1e othe: ilver (1m 9 people Hmlhx allvor Quesllou A New Zonlanrl \Vomler. A Book on Manitoba KONG A FINANCIAL \VRECK Another Walking Tour. : “ What name are you going to 1by lnr Talks of KONG e in value. But af ) brought about W upon prices in In‘ If gold had upon stowed or 16. ” 1ylor ati AVORABLE SIDE of India. v had a. jay. Speaki don’t, know all day whic had been short- dvocated the sus- The effect of the the rupee would onseqnence would But appreciation 1bout would have as in India. as the (1 upon prices in greater quantities . in exchange for further dcclme in ninq of the value Bil) WAY rthy pages is that a of the emigrant a. colony of pio- determiuation, a. tni rte csult of [he I hwe been of the many aht‘aoullbe on

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