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Bread Standatd Bank of Eanada. HERO OFFICE. TORONTO. G. P. REID. - â€" MANAGER Wee in all principel point: in On uric, Quebec. mum. United States end England L genenl Banking business trons med. Drains issued nnd collections node on all points. Deposits re- ”1106 end interest allowed at cur rent. rues. Intense allowed an Somings Bank de- pooits of $1 and upwards. Prompt “nation and every facility tflorded mltomers living in a distance. apitd Authorized . . . 82,000,000 Ptid Up ............. 1.000.000 “or" Fund ........ 1,000.0“) The good Wlfr‘ of tho liouao alwms like: to baw- good Bread. and 1h» but. Bread ii '0 ho had at Stinson’s. The whites” sweetest ond mom hoolthlul made. No husband will aver find fault with Stinson’s Bread 'Wo turn out a first-class article ‘Ibflber it’s Bread. Pies or Cake-s tad give spacial attention to om customers. A FIRST-CLASS LINE of Bakery Goods alwayn on hand. W. D. CONNOR; DURHAM AGENCY. Machine Oil, Harness Oil. Axle (heme and Hum Ointment, go to . P. SA UNDERS SHOP All REPAIRING promptly orly :tten Fed to. DUB“; a! FOUNDRY Galvanized and Iron Pip ing; Brass, Brass Liner and Iron Cylinders. THE SAVINGS BARK. d. KELLY, Agent Pumps fmm $2 upward. ’ Open every afternoon. MODEL BAKERY. Manufacturer of And Dealer in â€" The Harnessmaker .W. D. CONNOR und pI'Op It was Mrs. Anderson who first sug- gested the society, and thereby she hoped to attain national fame, for in the first blush of enthusiasm she pre- dicted that the Provident Home club would in time extend from New York to San Francisco, with the Carson club , as the parent organization. l The 1’. H. C. was simple enough. | It consisted of nearly all the marriageâ€" able girls in Carson, who, fired by the ' enthusiasm of Mrs. Anderson, pledged , themselves not to marry until their fu- ? ture spouse had provided a home and a '; bank account. thus making ample pro« : vision for the inevitable rainy day. ' V anvu Iv- -._ The yofingvmen had no share in this enthusiastic admiration for Mrs. An- derson. Indeed, Frank Harper had had his first quarrel with Rose Wilder because he had happened to hint that Mrs. Anderson's enthusiasm might be somewhat less were she not comfort- ably married. "Jack Anderson has plenty of mon- ey,” he growled. “but old man An- derson married when his sole capital was a railroad ticket west, and he nev- er saved up enough to bring his wife out to their new home until after the second summer.” “Do you dare to say that she is not sincere?” demanded Rose hotly. She was one of Mrs. Anderson's strongest partisans. "She is sincere,” admitted Harper, “but it Jack was as poor as his father was and she loved him I’ll bet the P. 11. C. would never have been form- \r In the end Harper went home with a heavy heart, carrying the little ring that had been the pledge of their love. Rose had declared that he must pay of! the mortgage upon his farm before they were married and have at least $5.000 in the bank. A- When Harper Formed a Club It took Harper exactly a week to pull himself together. Then he in- augurated retaliatory methods. The “DON'T YOU WANT TO BUY THIS ladies of the Methodist church were to have a fair for the purpose of lift- ing the mortgage from the church prop- erty. Some time before Mrs. Anderson had declared that the church should stand free of debt within a year, and it was believed that this fair would pro« vide the last $200. V UDIV - The da§~hefore the fair opened the young men of Carson came out with small badges, bearing the letters G. S. C... but the mystic import of these characters could not be learned. The only information elicited was that Frank Harper was its president and that it would make its object Known in good time. The fair was duly opened. Half a dozen local celebrities made speeches. and two or three dozen married men made purchases from their wives and daughters. who were standing behind the stalls. Then there seemed to come a lull. it was Mrs. Anderson who made the discovery that there was not an unmarried man in the room. Every young girl in Carson was pres- ent either as a saleswoman or visitor, but there was not a bachelor in sight. The married men turned to manfully and bought what they could aflord, but by half past 9 most of the crowd had gone. and the receipts counted up $17.50. The next morning various young gen- tlemen solemnly expressed regret that they had been unable to attend and promised to get around that evening if they could. Evidently they found it dimcult, for the second night of the fair was even duller than the first. son commanded her husband to see if he could not and some of the young men and induce them to come over. It was not long before Anderson was back, his face wreathed in smiles. “Most of the boys are in the vacant store next to the postomce,” he report- ed. “They are having a meeting of tion.” “Well,” said Mrs. Anderson, with 3 er lips that Anderson ' new full well, “I am going over there to tell the boys what I think at them n for breaking up my 1 . . “I think.” an m. with n ., pawn?” orate courtesy. _ u V “It is with especial pleasure," said Frank Harper in his capacity as presi- dent, “that we welcome you to our meeting. We feel that it is to you we owe our very existence.” VWV v“. 'v-J vâ€"â€"â€".___ “To me?” said Mrs. Anderson help- lessly. “I’m sure I never heard of the club until just the other day.” . “None the less,” continued Harper, while Jack Anderson tried to get as far behind his pretty wife as he could that she might not see his telltale face â€"“none the less, it is to you that the honor of forming the club really be- longs. “It was your ldea that the young wo- men of Carson should pledge each oth- er not to marry until the prospective husband had a home and $5.000 in the bank. “'hile it is not probable that under such conditions many of us can “-wvâ€" aflord to marry before we are fifty. we I recognize the brilliancy of your idea,‘ which you yourself have declared is destined to reach from the Atlantic to the Pacific. We feel that the eyes of the country will shortly be turned to- ward Carson, and we have organized. supplementary to your society, the Get Something club. Our members are pledged to attend no entertainment, to spend no money foolishly, until we have each saved up by this means the $5.000 and the home demanded by $5,000 and the home demanded uy. your disciples.” “But,” interrupted Mrs. Anderson half tearfully, “I want you to come over to the fair and help make it a success.” , “Madam,” declared the president lmo pressively, “we have thirty-seven names on our roll. Each might have spent from $5 to $10, so we shall hold meetings of the club every evening during the fair to keep out of tempta- tion. That means at least $185 saved toward the $185,000 we shall have to accumulate to follow out your admira- ble ideas. We feel that this duty”â€" Unable to restrain himself longer, Jack Anderson interrupted the speech with a shout of laughter, in which even his wife had to join. She turned to Harper. â€"â€" co ‘1,“ “1““ tU ‘lulllblo “See here, Frank Harper,” she said energetically, “you disband this club, come over and make the fair a success, and I’ll disband the Provident Home eiuh tomorrow.” She was true to her word, but more than one pledge was broken that very night. Even Rose Wilder, who was presiding at the household table, point- ed to an attractive tea 'set. saying, “Don't you want to buy this, Frank ?” “What's the use?” he protested. “I “What’s the use?” he [)1 have no wife to give it to! ”It v .-V Rose blushed ”very prettily. “You might have the wife 11' you bought the That night on the way home mus. Anderson was struck by an idea. “ ‘Get Something’ was a funny name for the title of that club.” “I think,” said Anderson, “that the ‘something’ they were to get was to get square.” The Tailor’l Argument. i In “Thrums” lived a merchant tailor who ordered from a friend, a book agent, a complete set of an encyclo. pedia which was being published in monthly parts. All went well till the delivery of the last volume, which proved to be about one-half larger than any of the others. Delivery was refused on the ground that the vol- ume was not according to sample and broke the uniformity of the set. Mr. Comrie Thompson was then acting sheriff substitute for Forfarshire, and the resulting case came before him. The plaintifl stated his case, and Mr. Thompson then advised the defendant to take delivery, adding: ‘ “Now, Mr. -â€"-â€"-, don’t be foolish. If; the book is larger, they don’t propose! to charge you anything extra, and youi ought to consider you are having a} bargain.” ‘ “Well," pleaded the defendant, “I’m a tailor, and if your lordship were to order a coat from me, and I quoted a price and afterward delivered the coat a half size bigger than you wanted it, you would, I have no doubt, refuse de- livery. And I might thei‘ say: “Don't be foolish, sheriff. The coat, it’s true, is much larger than you want, but the cloth is the same, and I won’t make any extra charge. You ought to con- sider you are having a bargain.’ " This rather tickled the court, which expressed its appreciation of the point somewhat noisily. Verdict for the plaintiff, with costs.â€"London Tit-Bits. Patcheu and Politics. | In Lord Lytton’s novel, “Devereux,” the hero says to Lady Hasselton, “Why, you have moved all yourl patches, one, two, three, six, eight, as' I am a gentleman, from the left side‘ of your cheek to the right. What is the reason of so sudden an emigra- tion?” The reply is: “I have changed. my politics, count, that is all, and have i l resolved to lose no time in proclaiming the change.” A note reminds the read- I er that at that time Whig ladies patch- ed on one side of the cheek, Tories on i the other. Addison, too, has an amus- ing Spectator paper on the same sub- ject, relating how he went to the theater and observed two parties of ladies in opposite boxes, the faces on one hand being spotted on the right side of the forehead and those upon the other on the left. He adds: “I am informed that some of them adhere no steadfastly to their party and are so far from sacrificing their zeal for 9n We walk on starry fields of white And yet ignore the daisies; For blewngs common in our sight We rarely ofler praises. , We sigh for some supreme delight To crown our lives with splendor. And quite ignore our daily store Of pleasures sweet and tender. Our cares are bold and push their way Upon our thought and feeling, They hang about us all the day, Our time for pleasure stealing. So unobstructive many a JO)’ We pass by and forget it, But worry strives to own our lives And conquers if we let it. There’s not a day in all the year But holds some hidden pleasure And looking back joys oft appear To brim the past’s wide measure. But blessings are like friends. I hold, W'ho love and labor near us. We ought to raise our notes of praise “'hile living hearts can hear us. Full many a blessing wears the guise Of worry or of trouble. Farseeing is the soul and wise \Vho knows the mask is double, But he who has the faith and strength To thank his God for sorrow Has found a joy without alloy To gladden every morrow. “'e ought to make the moments notes Of happy, glad Thanksgiving; The hours and days a silent phrase Of music we are living. And so the theme should swell and grow As weeks and months pass o’er us. And rise sublime at this good time. A grand Thanksgiving chorus. ELLA WHEELER WILcox. THE NIGHT BEFORE THANKSGIVING. There was a sad heart in the low- storied, dark little house that stood hum- bly by the roadside under some tall elms. Small as her house was, old Mrs. Robb found it too large for herself alone; she only needed the kitchen and a tiny bedroom that led out of it, and there still remained the best room and a bed- room, with the low garret overhead. There had been a time, after she was left alone, when Mrs. Robb could help those who were poorer than herself. She kept a cow, and was strong enough not only to do a woman’s work inside her house but almosn a man’s work outside in her piece of garden ground. At last L sickness and age had come hand in hand, those two relentless enemies of the poor. and together they had wasted her strength and substance. She had always | been looked up to by her neighbors as 5 being independent, but now she was ‘left, lame-footed and lame-handed, with ' a debt to carry and her bare land. and the house ill-provisioned to stand the _ siege of tixne. - -J A- _.-s. n.‘ Inns- .IUBU V. v.”- For awhile she managed to get on. but at last it. began to be whispered about that it was no use for anyone to be so proud; it was easier for the whole town SHE LOOKED OUT HOI‘ELESSLY ACROSS THE GRAY FIELDS. to care for her than for a. few neighbors. and Mn. Robb had better go to the poor- house before winter, and be done with it. At this terrible suggestion her brave heart seemed to stand still. ’ "hi” people whom she cared for most happened to be poor, and she could no longer go into their households to make herself of use. The very elms overhead seemed to say “No,” as they groaned in the late autumn winds, and there was something appealing even to the strange passer-by in the look of the little gray house, with Mrs. Robb's pale, wor- ried face at the window. II. Some one has said that anniversaries are days to make other people happy in, but sometimes when they come they GLAD THANKSGIVING. seem to be full of shadows, and the power of giving joy to others; that in~ slieneble right which ought to lighten the saddest heart, the most indifferent sympathy. sometimes even this seems to be withdrawn. So poor old Mary Ann Robb sat at her window on the afternoon before Thanksgiving and felt herself poor and sorrowful indeed. Across the frozen road she looked eastward over a great stretch of cold meadow land, brown and wind- swept and crossed by icy ditches. it seemed to her as if in all the troubles that she had known and carried before this, there had always been some how to hold, as if she had never looked pov- erty full in the face and seen its cold and pitiless look before. She looked anx~ iously down the road, with a horrible shrinking and dread at the thought of being asked, out of pity. to join in some Thanksgiving feast. but there was no- > body coming with gifts in hand. Once she had been full of love for such days, whether at home or abroad, but some- thing had chilled her very heart now, | poor old wornan. ' L-â€" L-) L‘A- .4... V'â€" Her nearest neighbor had been tore- most of those who wished her to go to the town farm, and he had said more than once that it was the only seneible thing. But John Mender was waiting impatiently to get her tiny form into his Câ€"‘vâ€" v- own hende; he had advanced some money upon it in her extremlty. and pretended that there wee etlll e debt, efter he hed cleared her wood lot to pey hlmeelf book. He would plow over the grevee ln the field corner end tell the greet elme, end welted llke e eplder for hle poor prey. 30'. Oh, l! m can“! only u.v -_ , own house ond nol oufler we pull: of homolounou and dependence! 1‘ won just at unset, god a sh. looks ed out hopolouly «cm the any new. there was a ouddon gloom of llght for sway on the low hlllo beyond, the clouds opened in the west and lot the sunshine through. Ono lovely gleam choc owl“ as an arrow and hrlghtenod a for cold hlll- oldo where lt toll, and ot the some mo. “There W“ J‘ son, left an orphan and distressed. Old John Mander scolded, but I couldn’t little he could. He said I was the only mother he’d ever had. ‘l’m going out West. Mother Bobb,’ says he. ‘I shan’t come back till I get rich.’ an’ then he'd look at me an’ laugh, so pleasant and boyish. He wa’n’t one that liked to write. I don’t think he was doin’ very well when I heardâ€"there, it’s years ago now. I always thought if he got sick or anything, I should have a good home for him. There’- poor Ezra Blake, the deaf one tooâ€"he won't have any place to come toâ€"” The light faded out of the doors, and again Mrs. Robb’s troubles stood before her. Yet it was not so dark as it had been in her sad heart. She still sat by the window, hoping now, in spite of her- self instead of fearing: and a curious feeling of nearness and expectancy made her feel not so much light-hearted as light-headed. “I feel just as if somethin’ was goin’ to happen,” she said. “Poor Johnny Harris, perhaps he’s thinkin’ 0’ me, if he’s alive.” It was dark now out of doors, and there were tiny clicks against the win- dow. It was beginning to snow, and the great elms oreaked in the rising wind overhead. III. A dead limb of one of the old trees had fallen that autumn, and poor fire- wood as it had been, it was Mrs. Robb’s own, and she had burnt it most thank- fully. There was only a small armful left. but at least she could have the lux- ury of a fire. She had a feeling that it was her last night at home, and wlth strange recklessness she began to fill the stove as she used to do in better days. ”va- “It’ ll ~39: me good an’ warm.” aha sald, stlll talklng to herself. as lonely people do, "an’ 1' ll go to bed early.1t’s comln’ on to storm.’ ‘7‘,”â€" agninlt the window, and she sat alone thinking inthe (inf-lg: “There’s lots 0’ folks I love," she rald once “They’d be sorry I ain’t got nobody to come, an’ no supper the night More Thanksglvln’. I’m dreadful glad they don’t know.” And she drew a llttle nearer to the fire, and lald her head back drownily in the old rocking chair. It seemed only a moment before there was a loud knocking, and somebody lifted the latch of the door. The fire shone bright through the front of the old stove and made a little light in the room. but Mary Ann Robb weked up frightened and bewildered. “Who ’3 there?” she called, as aha found her crutch and wont to tho door. She was conscious of only her one great fear. “They’ve come to take me to the pom-house!" she said, and burst into “;l‘hiere was a tall man, not John Man- der. who seemed to fill the narrow door- “'8'. m‘i‘VCome, let me in,” he said gayly. “It’s a cold night. You didn't expect me, did you. Mother Robb?” “Dear me! What is it?’ she talterod, stepping back as he came in and drop ping her crutch. “I39 I dreamin’? I wan a dreamin’ aboutâ€" Oh. there! What was i aaayin’? ’Taln’t true! No! I've made some kind of a mistake.” Yes, and this was the man who kept '3 the poor-house. and she would go with- 1 out complaint; they might have given ; her notice, but. she must. nut. fret. ‘ “Sit down, sir.” she said, turning to- ward him with touching patience. “You’ll have to give me a little time. If I’d been notified I wouldn’t have kept you waiting a minute this cold night.” It. was not the keeper. The man by the door took one step forward and put his arm around her and kissed her. m“Wbat are you talking about?” said John Harris. “Ydu ain’t goin‘ to make me feel like a stranger? I’ve come all the way from Dakota to spend Thanksgiv- ln’. There's all sorts of thlngn out here in the wagon, an’ a man to help get 'em in. Whyâ€"don’t you cry so, Mother Robb. I thought you’d have a great laugh I! I name and surprised you. Don’t you re- member I eald I should?" It was John Harris, indeed. The poor 5 soul could say nothing. She felt now an ' if her heart was going to break with joy. He left her in the rocking-chair and came and went in his old, boyish way, bring- ing in his store of gifts and proviaione. It was better than any dream. He laughed and talked and went out to send away the man to bring a wagonfni of wood from John Mander’e, and came in himaelf laden with pieces of the nearest fence to keep the fire going in the meanâ€" time. They must cook the steak for eup- per right away; they must find the pack. age of tea among all the other bundlee; they moat get good ill-HI started in both the bedroom; Why, Mother Robb didn't eeem to be ready for company from out "BE I DREAMIN mi: Mn, (mag a ?H called, as she 1. Farmer (to lean tux-kenâ€"Oh. you naedn’t laugh, your turn’ll come Christmas. :2. It all“ rues mo tet- I00 a. dispor. altion tar give the hush tor victim! 0‘ hard luck. 3. Well. chaw me up! There goes the bacchqt of! the handle 4 So we’ll luv to on. the lean tnrhy fer Thankqglfln'. and let the in on. hov 3 mp!“ flll Christin“. Make Thanksgiving 3 Joyone Dey. Thanksgiving, unlike Christmas, . not especially the children’e aiey. It ie . time for the "union 0! temiliegin whi‘, of ccuree. the children ere included, but they do not occupy the chief M u at their own teetivel. But we oil 6“ to make the epeciei holideye bright “ in the livee of children. The m ieetnm ct eech ehoold be mph-d“ . thet they come ereund in eta the old childieh joycneneee. "H lapse of time can wholly deprive ~. ' I “ may")?! 9‘19“" - no early 111.. â€"mu' nom'a. m Ulld( Tfiigllrd 11;“le We means. aflrr s O nevero lung afll “Comâ€"paw. m h m Now suflvn-ra t1 U fioneer fur the (if promptly attended m a his Implement W: (H sand. or at the L cubed AIM tlullvfl any Land \ aluatd Mien. ( our! 5316} “3:; attended t if required. files pr: (“idem-t Orders n ”I fur HI ltteuded Ofl Stands Inn). (3' sttended tI’V Oflic Nov. 11 t.) l uiversit College of Dem; Enemaâ€"Calder Mu U the Durha, Block. Residem the Station. W. C. Pickeri l 600 in the NI boon, 8 t0 IO 3. I Q. m. Spock! at If women and chi posits Prosbv tend OHN CLARK AMES U Garnlran foot of hill. Ofl: U short dis-um Lambtou Street 0600 hours from Ors. Jamies HYSICIAN 600 in the .‘ OBER THE JOB : :‘ DEPARTnENT, Nam»: m" UH] . '31“)ch Ming? 1ranuc1 “For le,“ etc-A50 (and: subsequent u fishouldbeu Cqunamesfory on to the om All advertise m “"3 “H: . _. . llflc O'I All advenise'mcnu his dunes. WINE * ’” nnm ‘c i mflwu‘ heF-T-éflféot ARR] Moll ARI whodea ARRISTI Uflice m Auc Dr. T. G. Fl’ICEâ€"FIRI ONOR GRA l. G. "Uttl FFICE AND T0 CONSU FFICE AN All“ I find a sure 1 5m. 8m: ARK MacKay Arthu M Rd [(0 Dania. M is DITOR Lt’fldl ARSON it BR“ M .WIJ It“ 'c'lL ll‘