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man, the young house back alon her would be ab as this; or, if he 1y choose such a nor would a rob‘ and groan whel halt a passenger I laughed gri I] again away! the b 8 Harsha It came again, after a moment. It was curioust muffled, and was al- most more a groan than a cry. I could not be sure the word “Help!” was articulated by the person who cried out; but, Certainly, it was an apgeal for aid. The cry was rcpeale myself. No one had destroying this will 5:: low, was swollen by the long rains; but as it was normally merely a thin trickle, its rise had done no harm. Most of the surplus ran safely under the little bridge. The remainder fol- lowed a backwater around a boulder beside the road and flowed across the road a dozen feet from the bridge itself, where the road was lower than the bridge. The feet of my horse splashed into this swift, though shal- low, current, and then reached the solid road again; ard it was in the comparative lull after the noise of his hoofs in the water that I heard a faint shout from the wooded hollow below the road. The horse must have heard it as well as I; for he stopped without a command from me, and even though I could not see him, I could almost feel the intensity of his posture as he stood with head turned and ears for- ward to listen. For myself, though that faint cry had chilled me with an indefinable alarm, I leaned forward to listen for its_ repetition. lamps my C( About a quarter of a mile from the home of my patient, and more than half a mile from any other house, the road dipped into a little hollow at the bottom of which a brook tinkled audibly. This little hollow was wood- ed; and, as my horse began the des- cent, leaning back heavily to hold the carriage in the slippery mud, the shadows of the trees closed over us, so that the horse was lost in the darkâ€" ness, and only the dim ribbon of sky between the foliage overhead was visible. PART III. Our homcward progress was slower than our coming had been- for the horse was weary, and, perhaps, the thick mud was stiffening a little as the wind grew colder. Once or twice something lashed me in the face and tingled there, and I guessed there were a few flying flakes of snow on the wind. The night had become somewhat brighter, either by a dis- pel'sing or a lightening of the clouds; and the struggling form of the horse was perceptible, while the fences and the trees along the road could be vaguely discerned. their brackets beside the carriage, and I had let them go, trusting to the isolation of the road on which I traveled to preserve. me from acci- dent. Now, by sheltering this lamp with my coat, I was able to throw a faint gleam a few feet ahead of me. I crossed the bridge to a little path which led down through the wooded hollow, and started forward, listening now and then for the cry which had attracted my attention. It came as I left the road; and I heard it again, not twenty yards in front of me, a moment later. I push- Ied on and came into a little open L‘A‘lnvl lanonn Ohinv‘n Hun ‘utxnn nnr‘l JI The brook, at the botrtomr of the ho]â€" Sepd us a postal ior a free sample. Please state_ the pnce you now pay and whether black, Green or Muted Address Salaam, I‘oronto. 8723 ,= 5561 lighted oat. The 1a: so fierce was "E‘he ‘Efiaéfaflflé g? Anticipates its exqu‘isite flavour. 0“ EV NOTiCE was repeated. 1 reassured Io one had an interest in this will save James Nor- oung man I had left in the : along the road. No rob- be abroad on such a night. if he wasthe would scarce- ;uch an unfrequented road; a robbcr‘lurk in the woods when he might as easily nggr in the t grimly at Th3 Vaiw in The Night BIRDS )0 had left ir road. No '11 such a r .9. would set :equented r 'k in the w 1‘08 refused itseL own Tore Mo My patient died a few weeks later, as I said before. James Norman dis- appeared. The incident slum-bered in my memory, all but forgotten, until mL‘visitfo the prison a_fev»v»days ago. â€".a life convict sentence ago for some crime in t showed peculiar effects 0 over a period of many ye beside the point, however his invitation; and he m prison office and conduct little hospital, and left man while he himself ans The old doctor‘s pipe had long since been smoked to the end. He paused in his narrative and filled it again and looked across at the young man with a smile. “Are youâ€"interested?" he asked. "Surely," the young fellow res- ponded. “Butâ€"â€"I’m not sure I see your point just yetâ€"the secret-ser- vice guards ideaâ€"” “That. comes now," the old physi- cian interrupted. “That comes now. The thing that convinced me I was meant to live, meant to go about my life, guarded for destiny.” “Go on,” said the young,p man; and the old doctor set a match to his pipe and again began. Doctor Newell is the prison physi- cian, as you may know, the old doc- tor continued. He is a very able Drac- Doctor Newell is the prison physi- cian, us you may know, the old doc- tor continued. He is a very able prac- titioner; and he has taken advantage of his opportunities to study with some care the manifestations of crim- inology in the men who come to him. He wrote to me, inviting me to come to U}; prison to see a patient of his At length, I gave up the fruitless search and turned to pick my way back to the road. As I went, I stop- ped, now and then. to look back. I found my horse, still hitched safely to the bridge; and with a feeling that I had done all a man might do, and a thought that my ears must have deâ€" ceived me, I set out for home...and reached it safely. . . .and slept. . . .and next day delivered the will as I had been directed. Suddenly and inexplicably, the faint tremors I had experienced left me. I was as bold as a lion. I stood in the middle of the little, open glade, look- ed about me and cast the light this way and that. There was no one there. I started out and circled through the woods for fifty yards in each direction. There was no one, nothing. The wind tossed the tall branches over my head; the driving rain lanced down and lashed at me; the chill of wind and rain bit at my bones. But I found no one, no trace of any one, nothing. ' Instantly the whole picture flashed b l V E ii L 5 into my mind, as I have related it to you. I remembered the drive through W ithe dreadful wind and rain, and the , , , ,words of the old woman, and the their brackets bESlde the carriage,and‘sounds of this man's feet in the upper I had let. them go, trusting to theimmm isolation of the road on which I' «1 remember the night," I said, traveled to preserve me from acci-i He grinned “Wellâ€"I wasn‘t as deflt- NOW, by Sheltering thls 18'mpidrunk as my aunt thought. I heard With my coat, I was able to throw alyou come in_ You remember there faint gleam a few feet ahead of me.:was a big sieve in the room where I Crossed the bridge to a lime Path ‘she received you, as well as the open which led down through the WOOdEd‘fire. And there was a register in the hollow, and started forward, listening cening, leading to the room above. I 110W and then for the cry WhICh had icrept into that room to listen through attracted my attention. It came as I left the road; and I heard it again, not twenty yards in front of me, a moment later. I push- ed on and came into a little open space among the trees and looked about, casting the faint light of my lamp this way and that. There was no one in sightâ€"and I waited for that cry. It did not come. By and by I called out: “Halloo! Who is it? you '2” Then I listened acutely, concentrat- ing every faculty in my ears. There was no reply. Where are the register to what she said to you.” I was beginning to see a little. “When I knew she had given you ithe will,” he said, “ I determined to ‘kill you, and destroy it, and trust to my aunt’s dying before she could make another. The plan came to me 'in a flash. I slipped down the back stairs and away from the house to the little wooded hollow, a quarter of a mile away. And I took a cane with me, to strike you down. My aunt thought I was still in my room, and I planned to re-enter by the window and come out from the door so that she could swear I had not left the There was 'no one in waited for that cry. It By and by I called out 3V some SO very Doctor wn YO' :"l W wormg comple In hlm nemory ' euects oI degeneracy L' many years. That is ', however. I accepted and he met me in the d conducted me to his and left me with the imself answered a sudâ€" he workshops where a 1jured himself on the mpte R 1' ntenced six months xe in the city, who :‘ects of degeneracy any years: That is orman throng sudden he asked you not Doctor 1t 1 the bedâ€"he t Doctor New- 0 correct his restâ€"(and be- 1 seek his con- ity creep into iden he asked ne en years 1 the 3' the na woma one Vagelu'bEe, Farm. Flower, New In prcved was he like?” James Norman frowned a little. “I could not see himâ€"could not see his face,” he said. “When you came down the path, past me, he was right on your heel-s; and when you stood in the middle of the little open patch, looking around, 'he stood shoulder to shoulder with you. I thought once he had seen me; and it was then I quietly slipped away.” Then Dr. Newell returned and we talked of other things. The old doctor fell silent; and the young man, eyes filmed with wonder, stared at the kind old physician whose whole life had meant so much of good to so many. “But,” he said, after a moment; “butâ€"you are sure there was no one with you?" And the old doctor, infinite faith I had had one glass of whiskey that afternoon, and my aunt smelled it on me. That was all. I was not drunk. I saw the man with you.” Something stirred faintly, deep within me. “The man who was with me?f’ Ir repeated. “Tell meâ€"what “You were drunk,” I said. “There was no one with me." He laughed. “Don’t try to fool me,” he said. “What good does it do? Now, as I have told you, there was no human being with me that night, no human being On the road, no hu- m_an being save James Norman in the little wooded hollow. Therefore, his words surprised me. I thought he must be mistaken. The man chuckled. “Oh, I didn’t repent,” he said, malignantly. “Dont imagine that. I’d come to kill you-â€" and I would have done itâ€"if you had been alone.” house. Do you see 'I” “You called for help?” I asked quickly. “It was you who called?" He nodded with a touch of pride. “I knew you were so full of notions about duty and the like, that you would come to a summons of that kind. And you did." “You saw me?” I prompted him. “Sure,” he boasted. “I was behind a big oak, just beside the little path, with my cane lifted to bring it down upon your head as you passed.‘ You came within two feet of me, and passed me, and went and stood in the middle of the little open glade there, flashing your puny lamp around and calling; and I slipped away on the hotfoot when I saw.” “When you saw ?” I repeated, mys- tified. “I passed your hiding place in your power, and you did not strike me down? Why did you not kill me as you» planned ‘2" in which she to take it 1 Rainy night think.” sent my thc not; era ember? not rem nu ‘emem 1n though wit] mere, Docto know I p12 ‘y years ag‘ ht. him deli] Nov? lm proved Sérains All resizd. sure fa 3mm Send for C ale/03’ sement at his own plight. $00111“ DOSSibl . telling now,” he agreed. ands of cords ember the night my aunt millions of re bac was shak the instar life oflfa to town “'35 elmous; laughed to wh the 1Q ght my aunt you that will and told you e11 me." There wa with you March, are Minard‘s Liniment for Burns, etc. Fate, that is given to all men partly shaped, Is man’s to alter daily till he die. Things which men Mean with their might, succeed. Nothing Wasted in China. Nothing is wasted in China. The stones of various! fruits and the shells of nuts are cleaned, dried and carved into ornaments of the most graceful (ind. “Well,” replied the convict, in a. philosophic manner, “in spring I picks peas, in summer I picks fruit, in autumn I picks ’ops, and in the Winter I picks pockets." “And what happens then ?” “Then,” continued the convict, “they take me up and sends me in 'ere, an’ I picks oakum.” Dye Old Skirts, Dresses, Waists, Coats, Stockings, Draperies, Everything. Each package of "Diamond Dyes“ contains easy directions for dyeing any article of wool, silk, cotton, linen, or mixed goods. Beware! Poor dye streaks, spots. fades, and ruins ma~ teria] by giving it a “dyed-look." Buy “Diamond Dyes" only. Druggist has Color Card. “Weld, my man,” said the “and what do you do when out at work?” A Picker by Trade. A witty convict is unusual. The London Morning Post tells of one such fellow, howeverâ€"a man whom Capt. 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