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 «r "^.f^/"' MIRIAM. V;. vj; CHAPTER I. **Mimm," laid the wife theBeTer- end Jame* Archer, looldiig up from tiie bool^Bheheld in her hai^ m though â- track with a sadden thought, ** yon an te be rare to go with as to the reading ro»n to-hight." The young lady addressed was sitting on the other idde of the fire phtce in the pleaeaniReetcMy drawing room. She was dtessed in deep monming, and she held, to screen her face from the lire, the mag- azine she had grown tired of reading. She awoke from a revme as the elder lady spoke, and a ptur of deep set gray eyes, which had been gazing, unseeinsr, into the shadowy room, came back to the speaker's face. "And why particalarly to-night?" she asked in a soft toned, somewhat weary voice. 'Toa know 1 don't care much for the evenings spent among your model yonng men, and I had promised Tommie to have an hoar with him in the narseiy after dinner." "Poor mite! He'll be disappointed; bnt there must be no calling off. James told me I was to be sare to speak to yon about it. It's a mercy I remembered. The Hickses sent word they were going down â€" that there was to be some music, and that we were to beg you to take some songs. You won't mind really, will yon?" **0f coarse not, if yoa and Mr. Archer really wish is. ' Bat, surely. Miss Hicks won't want any assistance from me! She sings a great deal." Mrs. Archer laughed. "She does," she said â€" "a great deal. Shall we content ourselves with speak- ing of the quantity, and be mercifully si- lent as to tne quality of her singing, poor little girir' "Oh. I meant nothing unkind!" the other returned indifferently. "One must utter the sacred name of Hicks with bat- ed breath, I know â€" say flattering things of them, or for ever hold one's peace; and really, from what little I have seen of her, I do indeed like Lady Hicks. She seems to me a kindand pleasant woman â€" a vast deal too good for the all important Sir Robert." "My dear, just think of his money! ' "I defy you to think of anything else," the girl answered, with a smile. "He won't let you. I can't help wondering, myself, how many thousands of people have been rained by the beer which puts so much money into his pockets." "It certainly is atrociously tad beer," the other lady said. "Not that that need concern us, as we don't drink it. What does concern us is the very good use to which Sir Robert pats his money. Look at this model parish of ours; no poor â€" al- most no vice â€" thanks to him! We our- selves too would be poorly off but for his liberality. 1 have to recapitulate his vir- tues very dften, for I confess he ia to me at times a little insupportable. By-the-way, he was asking a great many questions about you, thi other day." Apparently ignoring this last observa- tion, the girl threw the magazine she had held lightly from her, aid rose from her chair; she stood a moment by the fire, stretching out before her two slim white hands, one oc which was ringlesa, the other â€" the left one â€" bearing on its i bird finger a heavy wedding ring. "If I am to sing to-night I miy as well try over some stmgs," she said. "Yes, do," Mrs. Archer rejoined, her eyes wandering back to her book. She was an inveterate reader, and her taste in literature was not such as gave the Rever- end James unmitigated satisfaction. "Take something pretty. I suppose this brother of Lady Hicks will be there too." "Brother â€" what brother?" asked Mir- iam, carelessly turning over the music at the piano. "1 did not even know she had a brother." "Why, yes! He lives abroad; came back quite unexpectedly the other day. I told you all about it." "I do not recollect your having told me," the girl said tranquilly, putting a song before her and sitting down to the piano. "Bat I don't want to hear. Go on with your book. Lady Hicks' brother does not interest me in the least." With that she strucksome chords on the piano, and presently the room was filled with the deep tones of a rich contralto voice. Half an hour passed while Mrs. Archer read her novel and the young hdy sang and played. At the end of that lima she closed the piano, came and knelb on the hearth rug, stretched her hands to the fire, and looked thoughtfully at the hlaze. Suddenly, without turning her head, she spoke. "And what was Sir Robert inquiring about me?" she said. The room had grown dark in that half- hour; Mrs. Archer, who had been reading by the firelight, reluctantly closed her book and looked with rather dazad eyes at the girl. "The usual thing," she answered pres- ently. " You know what he would ask." "Was I a widow? Then who had my husband been? Were you certain there had been, as Betsy Prig would say, 'sich a person' Could you vouch for my res- pectabiUty?" "Stop there!" Mrs. Archer interrupted. **Thanks to your manner, and to a certain look there is about you, no one has asked me that question yet." "And you? What did yon tell him?" "Why do you ask? What should I tell him?" • "That my name is Miriam King, that my hnsband has ceased to exist, that, having come into a little proper^ lately, I had given up mnsic teachuig and had advertised for a comfortable hoine in a clergyman's family, which advertise- ment yon had, fortunately for me, an- svered, andâ€" here lam. Is that what yon tddhrni? '•ii-ii^i^i^^i:' Tba elder wonum nodde^ |. •^SomethiDgofthat." T} The girl keptsileneefor Awmomeifcs, knedhsgonuie Jiearth, mg, gaang into the fine "lib a lufmleis deoeptkm, aorelyâ€" even yoor hnsband admits tiuft^ianiueH and in my ouoamstancaa neoeaniy; bat you won't »get that it is, after all a de eeptixm. My name i« not King, you re- member, and Ifm not a widow tiut I know of â€" ^I wish with all my heart that I might be. I don't want to deceive yoa; I will tell yon everything, if yoa and Mc Arehor widi it. Bnt yon have be«i so kind; yon have taken me on trust, as it were." "My dear, why not? And why should you be troubled with the recital of what Ml cf course, punfal to you? If occasion should arise, you wUl tell me, that is all. Till then we can trust you, Miriam." Miriam turned, and laid her arm across Mrs. Archer's knee. "I have been lucky in one circumstance of my life," she said softly â€" "to have been led to you. Dear Gborgie â€" I may callyou Geoi^e?â€" it was all so long ago â€" five years agol I am not very old yet, am I? I was a child then. There could have been nothing very terrible in me, or about me, you would think â€" ^nothiog tliat a man, worthy of the name, should have feared to face and to endure. But he, my husband, cast meoffâ€" when he should have shielded, he disowned me. Ah, sometimes I have envied you your chil- dren and your husband's level Miue has been a miserable tate; and yet I sirear to you that, although I have been less happy than other women, I do not knoir wherein I have been less deserving of happiness." "Dear, I should like to ask ^ou one question. Donot answer unless you wish to do so. Did you love him â€" ^this man â€" do yoa still feel any affection for your hus- band, if he is alive?" "Do I? No â€" a thousands times no! Did I? I can't say. What do girls of seventeen know of their hearts? What I felt iac him you would not dignify by the name of loVe, perhaps; bat he was to save me from a life I hated; he was strong and I was weak, and 1 liked him and leaned on him â€" leaned on him, and he failed me." "Out of suffeting you shall be made strong," repeated Mrs. Archer sofdy. "No one could call you weak now, dear. How long is it â€" may I know, Miriam? â€" since you saw your husband?" "It is five years. have never se^ him sin'ze the hour he married me." Mrs. Archer was silent for a moment, passing her hand gently over her friend's dark and softly rippling hair. "I wish that he could see you," she said. "I6 is foolish but I can't help wishing that. You may have been a pretty girl but you are a beautiful woman now. It might punish him to see what he has lost." The girl gave a little bitter laugh. "May he never know thi extent of his misfortune!" she said. "I hope that I may never see him. I pray that he is dead ' ****** The Reverend James Archer and the two ladies wbo accompanied him had a walk of a inile along the sloppy roads of East wick before they reached the parish schoolroom, in which, nightly, most of the respectable young men of Mr. Ar- cher's flock were wont to assemble for the mild recreation of newspapers, bagatelle, and coffee. The lights showing through the red-curtained window illumined the dreary surroundings, and were a welcome eight to the ladies, whose cloaks and faces were wet with the drizzling rain. Ere they reached the little iron gate before which some few men and boys were con- gregated, a carriage drew up, the lamps flashing b.ightly, the horse's spirits in no wise damped by their wet skins. "The inevitable Hicks " whispered Miriam, as two ladies wrapped in furs de- scended and passed over the wet pave- ment to the schoolroom door, followed by a tall and powerfully-built man. who du- tifully carried more wraps upon his arm. Mr Archer called his wife's attention to this gentleman. "That's Keene," he said, "the brother I thought he would come." Mrs. King leant forward a little eager- ly- "Whatdid you say was his name ' she asked. "Keene I wonder £ was never told that Lady Hicks's name was Keene. And how, then, do you spell it?" Bnt Mr. Archer aid not answer. Some one coming up at that instant claimed his attention, and the twu women passed al- one into the lamplit, heated room. It was full of young men, who were turning over with scant interest the newspapers and books plentifully strewed over the long table, intent on a game of dominoes, or playing bagatelle. Lady Hicks and her daughter were disappearing in the direc- tion of the cloak-room, and the gentle- man who hsd escorted them, divested of the heap of wraps he had broi^ht in, stood, with his back to the roaring fire surveying the scene, a look of calm pre- occupation on his bronzed face. The two ladies came quidUy ap the loi^ room, Mrs. Archer unwindmg, as ehe advanced, a voluminous black wool- len scarf from her throat and head. Miri- am thickly veiled and shrouded in a long fur doak. As she glanced at the man by the fire, she suddenly wavered in her progress, bnt only for a moment as her friend looked at her questipningly, she oime on again, and in another instant was in the doak-rooai receiving the pleasant greeting of Lady Hicks and of Ella her daughter. A few aunuteal^terMrs. Ar- cher, deep in the reeital of some parish news, chiuidng to look in Miiiun's durec- tion,) was somoirhatBtaxtl^dat e girr^ ..**I dont feel quite miU" aweMda Iitd»nnatflafdity. ' ICriam an- 6bl(|U joa mind it verr mnehif I WNit h ofct f ' •0ear Mrs. King,"aried Uiif flieka, **youaeTBraxeintendiagtoiri« I Of course you will take my CMtiaga. W^ go4ad ask unde Eingrton tosrase kM. sptk to me for a momoit. Ho will feteb i£e eoadiman from the iim at «Me." **|Hi, noâ€" oh, noj" demumd Ebg hurriedly. "Pleiae do notâ€" in^40^ not go, IGss Hicks. It is a miiuite's faintness it win pass " They would^ot heedher suggesltonthat l^y should leave her to xeoovar by her- self ;and after a little farther delay, she, having unolasped the handsome doak and thrownoff her hat and veil, declared her- sdf ready to accompany them. **Her pallor does not spoil her beauty," Lady Hicks decided, (lancing with admir- ation at the proudcold face. "She wiUbe a revelation to Eangslon. I wonder what he wiU thick of her?" In two minutesshe had asked him. Vis not she beautiful? What do you think of her?" She did not look at her brother as she asked the question, bat followed with her eyes the graceful black robed figure mov- ing down the room; had it been otherwise, to one other person that night a revela- tion would have been made. Mr. Keene's face had paled from its healthy bronze to an ashen hue, and the eyes, looking out from under the broad, rather heavy brow, had in them a wildsnrprise, a questioning horror. "Do you know her? How does she call herself?" he asked and Lady Hicks must have been indeed preoccupied not to notice the sadden hoarseness of his voice. 'Do I know her?" she repeated, smil- ing. "Did not I tell you all about her as we drove here? Sheii the Mrs. King, you know, who lives with the Archers. I call her quite an acquisition. You will hear her sing â€" ^her voice is as fine as her face. Come with me I will intoduce you." But Mr. Keene drew back; and, as his sister left him to join Mrs. Archer, he turned bis back on the bright and cheer- ful room, and, leaning an elbow on the chimney piece and his head on his hand, looked down with unseeing eyes and heavily beating heart into the fire. A great unmeaning buzzing and hum of voicas was sounding in his ears his thoughts were ia a tumultuous whirl whose wild confusion no effort of his will could steady. "I must get out into the fresh air," he said to himself. He moved down the room, intending to slip out at the door unobserved; but fresh young voica cried as he passed- â€" "Uncle Kingston! Oh, will you come here, if you please? You play chess, do you not? Then will you go on with this game and release Mrs. King, who is go- ing to eing? Mrs. King, let me introduce uncle Kingston â€" Mr. Keene." A pait of serious and steady gray eye s set beneath delicately marked level brows, were raised with no embarrass- ment, with not the faintest sign of recog- nition, to Mr. Keene's face, and calmly refused to lower themselves before the glance they encountered. Mrs. King rose from! the table, and, as she did so, with her two hands she lightly swept the chess-men from the board. "You must begin a fresh game," she sate* gently to the intelligent-looking lad whom she had been instructing in the in- tricacies of the game. As he watched her action, a thrill that was almost a shudder passed through Kingston Keene's strong frame at sight of the single plain gold ring on one white and shapely hand. He sank down upon the seat she had vacated, looking vacantly at the chess-board before him andidly fin- gering the men. He wasa nervous gentle- man, surely, thought the lad at his side, observing how the brown hands trembled. Presently through the hushed room rang the solemn tones of a rich contralto voice. It was always said by Ella Hicks, after indulging an appreciative audience there with her little treble pipe, that the schoolroom was delightful to sing in. Mr. Archer, who wasmusical, stood transfixed, a light of pleasure on his tace he had not heard Mrs. King's voice to such ad- vantage before. The room seemed to throb to the rafters with the melodi- ous sounds. The voice, thrilling and ac- cusing, shook the heart of one' man who listened, and the eyes of the boy at his side gre w wet with tears. The singer had been excellently taught in addition to the natural talent she possessed, she had learnt the art of pronouncing her words distinctly, of weightiog them with deep- est feeling. Not a syllable was missed of those she now sang, and there was a pas- sionate complaint conveyed in them be- yond what they themselves or the music to which they were wedded expressed. "Alone tbrongh sammar sunstaine. Aieoe through wlntet'a rain, Aloc«|'B«ath »h9lt«riiig hedgtrows, Uf 'mtd Itch's scorohiDs plain. Smiles wreathed In Mgned pleasifte. Heart racked wirh t^ oable sore; Alone, alone in a pitiless world ' Jfor ever a id evarmorel ' 'Never to fill i oatl'« promise, Kevar to know lifs'a bliss, Never to rest insUcldliiK armp. To toel no infanfa kisa: To be. 'mid love of others. Outcast. wa«r and •ore; Alone, alone ia a pttilsas world For ever and evsrmorer' As the last notes died away. Mr. Keene awoke as if from a dream. He turned to the lad beside him^ who, hav- ing pilled out a boge red hnndkerdiief, was blowing his nose vigorously, looking at his neigUwc thei while with moistened apok^:is eyes. J "She makes TO iselbad, don't sheiaixT. watt for jvOf I am foinc to vJk **; La#|fiiDka taaied\| airkM faoe an i«ro '^HkwMr ' HbB **W«D enoii^;lmt tlw nom iaataUng. Don't yoa faat it i^ilfMS lonsiiu f or a mootWrfoliSir." f; \?itlMat tdt^kttt dAib, lie papaed down the roon. doae ^HM qnter door Mr*. King ihM ataad jngj " apparently watohiag a {^me 6t Iferria, over whioliiiiro yoatha kmt puzzled browa. Inyolmltarily Mr. Keene stopped. Against hii will he look- ed over the bent heada of the young men to the oalm and baau'iful face on the other side of the table. Mta. Kingk^t her «yea lowered but, as one of ^e players broke into a loud laugh over a blander he had made, she smiled sympa- theMoally, then raued her eyes, and quiet and unembarraaaed, met for a mo- ment the look fastened on her; then slowly the black laahes- dropped ever the doudless eyes, and die was again appar- ently absorbed in the game. A minute more and Mr. Keene had gained the wet road, and wa« splashed reckleedy homeward through pools of muddy water, unheeding the pelting of the rain or the dark ducomfort of the way. "An odd fellow, that Keene 1" the Hec- tor remarked a couple of hours later, as he with his woman folk also tramped the Eastwick roads. "What made him rush off in that strange fashion Fine-looking man, is he not What do you think of him, Mrs. King?" Mrs. King thought a great deal more than she choose to say. Among other things, she thought of the difference which five years had made in the appear- ance of this man of whom they spoke â€" of Kingston Keeneâ€" her husbuid Was she herself altered as much as that At any rate, he had recognized her instantly â€" she was sure of tiiat â€" and she said to herself that the change in her had been more inward than outward, it had been with a sense of triumph she had stood ealady to-night in the man's presence, and had recognized that her strongest feding towards him was now one of con- temptuous indifference. After the first shock of the surprise^after that first sick quailing â€" she had felt and shown no embarrassment in the meeting She knew this, and was proud â€" proud of the strength and the composure which had come to her at her need and she walked homeward with a firm step and proudly- carried head â€" free, she told herself, free and independent (to bb conttnued.) appeuance. 'â- . â-  -J-y **Come, dear, iake off your doMcr die said. "Are you not well, child, or is it only tiiatlace Tefl which makes you look so paler I One Dos to Thousands of Sheep. An immense drove of sheep, went stumbling, tumbling, and trotting out of Newark the other day, on their way to Philadelphia. They seemed to walk all over one another, bumped together, and crowded until it seemed as though some' must have been trodden under the feet of the others. A rough-looking country- man trudged ahead in the middle of the road, and the sheep followed closely. He seemed as dusty, ill-humored and oub of sorts as the sheep themselves. In the rear, a tall and gaunt farmer tramped along, with a long hickory stick in his hand. At every few steps he ut- tered a peculiar cry, and whenever the sheep lagged behind, he touched them up with his Mckory stick. At his heels, and bringing up the tail end of the procession, was a long-bodied lean and scarred Bheph'rd's dog. He ran with his nose close to the ground, and apparently paid little attention to the drove. But when two of the sheep got astray, and trotted into a garden, the dog jumped over the feuce and chased them back in line in no time. As he forced them into the herd the sheep swerved away from him. The dog trotted araund the drove, making it still more compact in form, and then returned to his master, who by this time was walk- ing on the side walk beside the writer. " How many sheep are there in the drove " was adked. " Well, about eight hundred. " " You're way off," said the man with a good-natured grin. • ' There's three thou- sand three hundred and twenty-eight." " Where do yo take them to " " We drive them from here te Phila- ddphia, selling them on the way to butehers, or whoever wants to buy them, and getting rid of all that remains, in the 'City of Brotherly Love.' " 'They are owned ia Philaddohia. are they " " No, they ain't," said the man, quick- ly, " they are owned by A. B. Mattliews, cf Kansas City, lifo., and they travel about fif tee nmdes a day, and they're an infernal nuisance 1" After this he walked along in silence for some time, and then made a general remark that indicated that his life was not one of unalloyed happiness. " If it wasn't fur that dorg," he laid kicking |the brute affectionately a., he passed Mm, "my mate and me could never get these oattle through on time, but that animal is worth ten men. Grood sheep dorgs, you know, are scarce now in this part of the country. I wouldn't take anything on earth for mine. He's as faultless as can be, and he knows as much as any man, I don't care who he is. If I ahoohi tell you some of the very wonder- ful things that dorg has done, you'd fiall me a liar; and as I don't wish no such re- putation rn be quiet." Reflection, caused by this thought, overcome him, and he trudged along in absolute ailenoe for iMnade time. At laat he raised his head uid oontinaed •• When we get at tin ead of a day's march, if we find ti«t tbreo M four oi .the sheep axe misui%, I aaii send ttot he asked. "I ne^r heerd one ^Ht doisbadiaf£erth^if they araianrntba tonsne like h»n b« O"*^' ^:9t-ii j ' ,»w»y,'anar^t don't m^: •uriiOateaii For all answer 1 r. Keone pathed the] when the sheep ara or vhoV '^^^^^l diesa-board from him and rase. Hecioaa- ed o?er to his siste]. **Agatiha, you wil exooaa no if I do not that toig wffl the* to Bi^ or S^ thyrlwIe^Te, hooft, bo|as and wool." In rwgittie to an iaqoitj isomtB,, lofibar •â-  to the pcopriety of sbo^ horaap, the aditar of the MaMaohqZt£ Flontihmtm Mfs As the sole obie^ ahqafaig ihb hraae is to prevent too gt^ a wear of the grootfd surface of the oat» erOst of dia ho^, it is very obvioat tW in cartaia diatriets where the roads m, Baii4y and loaai^ the shoe may he dii. I peosed with, madi to the relief of tb aaunal and to the pecuniary benefit of i^ owner. On pavements and maeadamiz«d roads the wear is too great and the foot most be protected There are very aa^ yoong animals that are shod merelybl^ oause it is a custom to do so, and not because necessity caUs for it. Where the shoe has never been applied, the hoof takes on a natural hardness, which fits it for an astonishing amount of work with- out injury. When it is desirable to re. move the shoes entirely, the foot should be gradually inured to this new order of things by dow work, otherwise lameneas will fdiow, especially in those caaet where the owner has allowed the sole and frog to be mutilated by the knife of the blacksmith. These parts ought never to be touched with instruments. On ],» reads, with heavy draught, it is probable that cdkins cannot be given up, bnt these projections to the shoe are employ, ed uselessly in many cases, much to the injury of the animal, especially where they are not all of equal height. In fine there is no reason why every farmer should not try the experiment of using his horses without shoes especidly on the farm work. Nerviliiie, Whatisit? Poison's Nerviline is a combination of the most potent pain relieving substanceg known to medicd science. The constant progress made in tlus department of sci. ence points upward and onward. Nervil- ine is the latest developement in this movement, and embodies the latest dis- coveries. For neuralgia, crampa, pains in the headâ€" external, internal, and local â- i^Nerviline has no equal. Expead 10 cents in the purchase of a sample battle of Nerviline and be convinceed of its marvel- Ions power over pain. Sold by drug. gists. Large bottles 25 cents, at all druggisto. Disinterestedness is the very soal of virtue. How Would it do This bad weather, requires a remedy. It seems as if the whole responsibdity should rest on Vennor and Wiggins, for we had some kind of weather before they appeared upon the scene. How would it do to string them up Would it make things better? Another hint of import- ance don't hang on to your corns ai weather indicators. Better string theo out root and branch. Putnam'z Painles Com Extractor will do it quickly, pain- leasiy, and with certainty. Don't buy dans;eroUs flesh-eating substitutes. Get Pntnam's, and no other.2 Venture not to tiie utmost bounds of even lawful pleasures the limits ot good and evil join. These is a curious diversitycf taste among smokers as to tne kida cf pipe they irefer. Some like the clay pipe best, otners agnia the meerschaum sotne must have their pipe Wrll Beasoned before they caa ecjoy it, otheis again must have a new pipe and tbrov ic away whepflvpr It bocomes u tittle old. But th lugn thisdi r.'tit/ of tsste amone themie cnriouF, it ia iiot at all curious that tbere is 8a~"Bra'itiii nuaBliuity among them th^t the 'Myrtle Navy " brand of JViersrs. Tackett Son id tbe genmne article. Nothing more qu^kly consumes the vigor of life, than the violence of the emotions of the mind. Tea youcanget Bomethirgta stop that cough "Pre- toria" will do It ic no time. Try Pictoria, it never fails. The great 25 cent Cough and Cold Cure. To the generouis mind the heaviest debt is that of gratitude when it is not in oar power to repay it. Tonng Men Iâ€" Betid This Ths YoLTAiogBELX Co., of Marsh^il, Micb., offer to ia«nd their celebrated Eleo- rao-VoLTAio Belt and other Electric Ap- pliances on tria' for thirty days, Co men Jyoung or old) affltc^ed with nervous debili- fcj, l0B3 of vitality, and all kindred troubles. AUo icr rheutnacielia, neuralgia, paralysis, iud many other diseases. Complete reatnr- atitm xo health, vi^or and manhood guarsui- teed. No ri^ is insarred as thirty fiaya' :nai is allowed. Write them t cnos for illustnited pamphlet free. A m^n's valor had better flow from the ends of his fingers than ocze from the lend of his tongue. ^. Important. When you visitor leave New York City, ?avfl Baggage Bzpressage and Carriage Hire, and stop at the OBAin Union Hotel opposite arand Central Depot. 600 elegant rooms arced up at a cost of one mimoa dollars, «1 and upwards per day. Bnropean plan. Kle- gator. Kestauranc supplied with the best Horse oars, stages and elevated railroacs 60 all depots. Families can live better f OT leas money at the Grand Union Hotel tbac n anv other firstolass hotel in the citv. When death, the great reconciler, has oome, it is never our tendemees that we repent, but our severity. 0«t«rrnr-A srew Trcaansnt. trmnpB the most eztraotCui-.? Bx.oces thw ojw peMi atdilerved in modem science hasbten *5?*^«SL**»* Dixon Treatment of catrrri Jut of 2.000 patientB treated durintr the pasi ox month folly ninety per cent, have bees jured ot this stubborn malady. This is none "Jie less atarUlna when it is remembered that apt five per otet, of the patients presenting memselves to the regular practitioner aK â- Â«Â»eflttod, irtiile the patent medicines and 'mcp advertised cures never record a cure f *U- startuig with the claim now generally ^PI2* ,P^ ^^ most scientiSc m^ that tte disease is due to the pr^enoe M living paruites In the tiseues, Mr. Di* "^^â- t once adapted hif cure to tbea axte rmlii att o a; this aocmnpUshed the cacarrn d^BOttMOly oared, and the permanency is ftaesaaned, as cores effected by him four ye»» *B0 are cures stilL No 'one else has evar at; empted te cure catarrh in this manner, andno Jttjw tra^ment has ever cured catarrh. TW t-lfpoaaaan at the remedy is simple and can w ^eat bame, and the present season ottbe war Is the most Cavorable for a speedy ana ^maaent earn the malority of cases beat ^WBdatmuBteeetmeat Sufferers should eg ^WMwi^Meeera, A. H. uIXON £iOU.3» ^Jjtewi* West, Toronto, Canada, and endo* SWP nc their treatise on catarrh.â€" ifo"" ;r« n the first little step that loses n^ -*ay tluit the road is sUppery, and ve •«• down before we know it. g2^S^!Kt«lieWood. DrOanon-HStoBi**" â- oodtMlMu LHHebottleaatSOcenti. a year, tt a reward if allowed Barton, after the as infalla powder, t a wolf's 11 The wl days unc series of those of divided tb the homo *od melai to have it reason in liver; av ^od he Btmnach f „ J^£firf£Ii^[^MLvp