> Onc bowed o'er my trun 'che vida Trundle Bed. 'Oh, tke old trandle bed, where I slept when a boy What eanopled vite might not covet that joy? The glory and peace of that slumber mine. Like a long gracious rest in the bosom vine. The quaint, ican! couch, hidden close rom the ht, But seater 7a from its hiding at Oh. - eat of delight from the foot to the h Was fea queer little, dear ttle old rundie bed! Oh, the old trundle bed, where [, won- ing saw The stars through oie windows and Ustened with a To the sigh of the Y erinds as they y crept - Through the trees where tlhe robins so essly slept. heard the low chirp wren the listlessiy chirrup restl Where I murmurous of the And katydid again, Till my fancies grew faint and were @rowsily led ec Dial the maze of the dreams of the old trundle bed! Oh, the old trundle bed! Oh, the old trundle bed! With \ plump little pillows and old- fashioned spread, Its ca sheets and the anket abov Smoothed down ana tucked round me with the touches of love The ee oss my mother fed Toll me With "the ae fairy stories my mem- see Still reali as the lilies that bloom yer the head own in the old e --James Whitcomb Riley. Cains Wife. did he get her'? her brother ? sis % » Where Who was sige ie a mother? Was 'pre-Adamic- before history- Shrouded in mystery ? Maid of Phoenicia, Egypt, Arabin, Afriea, India, Or fun- -kisee d Suabia ? Who was her eee ? ag he a viking Cruising 2! Just to his liking: Cnt of the Whenceness r Bringing his daughter? Native of Narwiy, Denmark dr Sweden, Lared by the charms of Rounded or ay nder " Fiery or frig Haughty tender ? iy are her gre --_ Unknown to fa Where did Cain nonce her ? What was her name? Teall me, ye sages, Students of Life. Anrwer my query Who was Cain's wife' --S. T. C., in Chicago Post Papa's Got a Job Set a bigger dinner pot A-stewin' on the hob. Roast the 'taters good an' hot: Pap's got a job! Let the littl hungry kids Sme aul the good things cookin' Let 'em watelh the bubblin' lids, A-peekin' an' 2-lookin' 7 ae grin an sniff an' leap, Ned an' Bob, while tho pale twin babies sleep ; Pap"s got a job! Needn't stop to count the coals, Like we did all winter; Luggin' home ole boards an' poles, Savin' every splinter. Fill the hod an' ehuck it in; Let her blaze up scorchin'! 'Tain"t no waste, an' "taint no sin, A-celebratin' forchin. Make the gravy good an" thick To the Irish stew, Get a dish without a wick, One that's good ae ney. Fry an" extra slice o' lam. Then the fruit shelves rob: Open ap your choicest jam ; Pap"s got a job! Just a leetle prematcar A-keepin' our Thanksgivin', Work's a-comin' safe an' sure, To earn a decent livin'. the table slick uike we useter do, Whe am ave had enough to eat, > kids an' me an' you! wc? an' neat, Let's forgit the freezin' An' the hungry wakin'; Let's forgit the seanty Hearts almost nigh te bites, a-breakin' . Bleas the Lord, them times is past! ear the woman up, '8 got 80) t Chirk "Mandy--luck at last! Pay a ib ! New York World. The Best World Still. sad old It'< a world where the sun don't &hine, But there ain't no use repinin'; There's still a spot where the roses vine An' love' "when the sun ain' t shinin': : An' the winds may blow, an' tlie fras kill, ma, It's the best old world in the country still! It's = -- cold world when the sil- 8 gone Bat 'theese ain't no geas run high, use bewailin'; but the ships sail en, An' the siilors sing with the sailin'; An' the ro. may blow an' the light- Ft's 'the best olf werld in the country wtill! C > > ------ = ~ > > > a wr rere eee eee eee ee eeeeeeewererrrwrreryeyTYTereer? A POPULAR STORY OF THE DAY. : ; ¢ Thorns and Bries-~ = -in Love's Pathway. i rerrerrererrrerr?? : "eerrvrvvvvrvrvvvrvrervvrrvrrryry'®? "I found Arabel but a mere wreck | of her former self. Her countenance told me how fearfully she had suffer- ed. She was very ill, in a wretched | room, with no attendants or medical aid. I had her immediately removed to lodgings suitable tor ar and pro- vided a uurse and a physician. Pda that time she vegan to mend, and in a couple of Bish the physician hin nounced her of immediate er. When aie gf Boe be prolonged ale refused to the confession she had summoned me to hear. So long as there was any prospect of her recovery, se said, she must keep the matter a secret. But she could not die and leave it untold. Therefore she promised that dan- | inclosed feed _ Mrs. Tee; 'the | mother of the rgle! Margie!" iukte' ane My heart is My ! | darling! Ay ns child is taken from me! | It wags long before she grew com- |Bon of tye ekgely ior sengedy on oO y--for tragedy : Margie shee. sure it was. The can be told in a few brief we Alexandrine and her hus- | band had had some difficulty. Mrs. 'Lee could not tell in relation to what, but she knew that Alexandrine | blamed herself for the part she had taken. Mr. Treviyn left her in ADESS: to go to Seg on busines was ex be absen rabode four dave Steanwhitle his wife suffer- | | myself to ; hel / of him. whenever she should feel deati ap- |; €d agonies of ea and counted proaching she should send again for the hours until return should me, and relleve her soul by the con- give ier cL reivilewe of throwing her- fession of her sin. A few days ago Self at his feet and begging his for- came her second summons. i givcness. "Previous to this only a little But he-did 'not return. A week, "teri while, Lhad been inadvertently a fis- passed, and still no tidings. tener to. an altercation between | Alexandrine was almost frantic. On Archer Trevlyn and his wife, during | the eleventh day came a telegraph which Mrs. Trevlyn, in a fit of rage, ; despateh, brief and cruel, as denounced Ler husband as the mur- | those heartless things invariably derer of Paul Linmere. She produced ; are, inform her that Mr. proofs, which [I confess struck me as | Treviyn had closed his business. in strangely satisfactory, and affirmed | | Philadelphia, and was 6n the eve of her belief in his guilt. She also told leavi ms the country for an indefinite him that because the knowledge of | Period. His destination was not men- his crime had come to you, you had } toned, and his unhappy wife, feeling ; 1 left Ne er ork: to that if he left Philadelphia without igen rere mn ever ; : her seeing him, all trace of him would Oe ae aosine this, when I Hstenet ; b¢ lost, hurried to the depot and set to the dying confession _ of Arabel ya a oo i neneieote eet 'ere, I knew that thie confession hak" Seas Qubcraan ° Ke vers ne would clear Archer Trevlyn from all Phils \ 'phic aid ve ee en Or Fe! shadow of suspicion. Arabel died, and ch hai ag tgs : ree gine " rev= I buried her. Previous to her tenth | lendid } ' ; ae aah vers i a --perhaps to guard against accident a" td home--a corpse. int was erhaps, guided by the hand of ajc" y ve : . ait i Eeyeturiogs Providence to clear the Pe ong Mgpoei a had Jett se hind eee ni aawge ae lured) man--ste |! tue by which he might a reached ele. Coane OF ee ty 5 Tae - of | OF communicated with, and his wife, ig aa 1G length the lage jy Oo | unforgiven, must be consigned to the her life. She gave it tor mi il at {tomb, without a single tear upon her it gear es "explalit to to you al tha' | faces from the eyes of him she had you wi esr € . } lovedl so fondly. He gave her the manuscript, 1" 'They buried her at Greenwood, and wrang her hand and left Sahm .y . the grass and flowers bloomed over ted th he Soe ln aneets her i, Shp based ag mem- et ALC ~ _ "ory, and was orgotten, like a per- --- ed ~ ne Se eee jished leaf, or : beautiful sunset fad death. yas made clear: - wt } say Bhd : Srevivn was fully exculpated. He ing out with the inEne. Was Innocent 0 ne. ersne The summer 'days fled on, and | which she iad been iieenee brought the autumn mellowness and to believe he had a tha re a Goq SPiendore Margie, outwardly cal, or at. i -t gly S:- lla tu ESsolntion ineffable t to know that | with her staid maiden aunt. he had not taken the :ife of a fellow- mortal. Her resolution as taken before morning. She had deeply wronged Archer Trevlyn, and she must go to him with 2° full confession, confess her fault, and plead for lus forgiveness. Castrani, who came in the morning, approved her decision ; and Nurse Day, who walk told the whole story, and listened with moist eyes, agreed with them both. So it happened that on the ensuing morning Margie. bade farewell to the quiet home whic h had sheltered her through her bitterest sorrow, and ReCOMIPERSS by Castrani, set forth for New She went to her own home first. Her aunt was in the country, but the servants gave her a Warm wel- come, and after resting for an hour, she took way to the residence of Archer Trevlyn, but a few, squares distant. A strange silence seemed to hang over the palatial mansion. The blinds were closed--there was no sign of li .bout the premises. A thrill of a explained dre. ran through her ume as she touched' the silver- handled bell. The servant who : wered her summons seemed to partake | of the strange, solemn quiet prevad- ing everything. "Is M Treviyn in? she asked, tre ae in spite of herse wlieve Mr. Treviyn has left the conn ani m. "Left the ge ing hy ? When did he g "Some days ag Margie leane¢ _ "ies 1inst the carved marble vase which flanked the mas- sive doorway, unconsciously crushing the the trumpet- there in. ges t should she do? could write to} him. His wife would: 'know his + A She eaught at the i "Mrs. Trevly Pac P me to her was an old friend of mine The man looxed at her curiously, hesitated a moment, and motioning her to enter, indicated the closed door of al ae Yo presume, as you aire) rs "teland ~ the family." A feeling of solemnity, Which was almost awe, stole over Margie as she turned the handle of the door, and steeped inside the parlor. It was shrouded in the gloom of almost utter darkness. The heavy silken curtains fell drooping witk their costliness to the velvet carpet, and a faint, sick- ening . of withering water lilies pervaded t © close atmosphere. Water lilies thee "were Alexandrine's fav- orite flowers Margie stopped by the door until her eyes became accustomed to the gloom, and then she saw that the centre of the room was upied by a table, on which lay some rigid object --strangely long, and 'alg till, and an gular--covered wi pery ao velvet, looped up An dying A Still controlled by that 5 nee of 6 the aamitte cover. dead She saw beneath Bod the ' face lexandrine Trev She uttered a ery of hor- ror, am sank upon a-chair. The door ! She | year passed away thus monote !nously, then another, and no tidings ever came of Archer Trevlyn. Margie thought of him now as we think of one long dead, with tender regret, and love almost reverend. He was dead to her, she said, but it was no sin to cherish his memory. In the third year erie geo innrried. It was quite a lit ro- mance. old lover, dinonscled years before in a fit of girlish obstin- acy, came back, after weary wander- ings in rearch of happiness, and seek- ing out the love of other days, wooed and won her over again. There was a quiet wedding, and then the happy pair decided on a trip to Europe. And, of course, Margie must pepedy them. At first she deiurred ; she took so little pleasure ih any thing, she feared her presence night mpr their happiness, and she dreaded to leave the place where she |} hha passed so inany delightful hours |with him. But her aunt and Doctor "f Libert refused to give her up, and so, ;one beautiful September morning, they sailed for Liverpool! in the good ship Colossus. For many days the voyage was | prosperous, but in mid-ocean they | fell upon stormy weather, and the | ship Wak tossed about by the winds aud waters t was a terrible storm, and great apprehensions were enter- tained that the vessel might founder, but she would doubtless have wea- | elt thered the blast in safety, if she' had "| Rot sprung a leak. ; The fearful intelligence w as announc- | ed jist at the closing in of a dari dis- final night, one every heart sank, and jevery face was shrouded in gloom. | Only for a nemant | ! The men sprang } to the pumps and worked with a will i en will work for their lives-- l but. their efforts were vain. "The | Water increased in the hold, and it ;S0ou became evident that the Colos- ;sus would hardly keep afloat until | morning. But Providence was pleased to snatch those human lives from the de- struction which seemed inevitable, and just when they were moxgt help- less, most ge ostsagy the lights ofa strange ship were seen. They suc- ceeded in making their desperate con- dition known, and by day-dawn all were safe on board the steamer; for the stranger proved to be a steanier on her way from Liverpool to New York. Dr. El- wife, and nse The decks were crowded; bert was looking after his Margie, clinging to a _ rope, frightened and pong Some one ca to her, said a * words, which the termpest maaan mandible and carried he. below. The mg <A of the cihin lamps Son "full on his f She ut- te a cry, for in that i moment she recognized Archer Treviyn. ee. Harrison!" he a eried, his fingers tightly over hers. at > ae a Mine at last! 1e orean hecoed given you up me [" , weary ! And I 'have watted to see you so much--that I you how Le, had@ wronged you--tha: to f give me. Will you aaa oe toe r be- atl that you 'ou could ever be guilty of that man's death If you knew --if you knew Some' Teetinii it was represented me--what over- whelming Senne were presented, you gins not. wonder "----- rie Reo all, Margie; Alexandrine My poor wife! God rest her. Bie believed' th ine guilty, and yet her fatal love for me Svaniooked the crime.} She deceived me in man Ings, but she is dead, and I will not be unfor- giving. e poisoned my mind with suspicions of you and Louis Cast nd, I was fool enough to credit her insinuations. Margie, I want you pardo "T do, freely. Canteen! if a noble soul. Tr love hi would a brot "Continw ue to do so, Margie. He de- serves it, I think. The me ip I pee home, Alexandrine reveale the cause of your sudden mabctinion me. We ee terribly. I avec ie ber it with bitter remorse. We part- ed in anger, Maraie, and she died with- out my Aol Shoes and blessing. It was very hard, but perhaps, at the llete 6 he did oot sufier. I will be- 43 te ike sinned, it was through love of 'you, Archer, and that should make you very forgiving toward id "T have forgiven her long a know the proofs were strong acninat me IT am not sure but that they were sufficient to have convicted me of murder in a court of law. You were conscious of my presence that night in the graveyard, Margie ? Yes, I thought it was you. [knew no other man's presence had the aaa to thrill and impress me as yours did." "T meant to impress you, Margaret. I brought all the strength of my Me to bear on that object. aid to self, she shall iow that am eet her, and, yet my visible presence shall not be revealed to her. And now, can fist Nariel why I was there? ] "Love ought to tell you." "Tt might tell me wrong." "No, Margie. Never! You know that I have loved you from the moment IT saw you first, and though for a long, long time I never dared to think you would éver be me anything more than a bright, beautiful vision, to be worshipped afar off, yet it agon- ized me to think of giving you up to another. For after that it would be a sin to love you. When TI heard you were to marry that man, I can- not tell you how TI suffered. T set ascertain if you cared for him. And 1 was satisfies 1 heyond a doubt that you did not.' "You were correct. I did not." ; a villain of the deenest dye, Margie. I do not know a Vere sinned in ridding the earth When I think that but for her crime you would now have been his wife, I am not sure that she was again? <A mon ret Castrani in Paris eee ed every as delicate enough about = darling : ya need not blush for fea it have er me you were _ me; but he me fa tyghaimerse that my future minte not rk I had begun Sead He read to me the dying ations of Arabel Vere, and m clear many things eerie witch had aeerinassy. been in the all between us, aris x eg is peace, Archer. And "Goa is "Hels. 1 thenk Him for it, And now I want to ask one thing more. I a -- quite satisfied." Fell? home a " Perhaps you will think it ill-timed lee that we are surrounded by rangers, and our very lives perteape rs peril--but I cannot wait. Ihave spent precious moments encugt in waiting. Ié hps been very long, largie, since I heard you say you lov me, and I want to hear the words ag " She looked up at him shyly. "Archer, how do I know but you have cha $a "You know I have not. I have loved but one woman--lL shull love no other through time and eternity. Aud now, at last, after all the distress and the sorrow we have passed through, will you give me your romise to m whatever else fortune and fate us, by my She put her, face up to his, 'and he kissed her lips, "Yours alwa Archer. I have never had one ah for ants other.' may have in store for side ? So a second time were. Archer Trev- lyn and Margi¢ Harrison hebrothed On the ensuing the storm abated, and the steamer made a swift passage to New York. and Mrs. Elbert were a little disappointed at the sudden termina- tion of their bridal tour, but consoled themseives with the thought that they could try it over aguim in the spring. Treviyn remained in the city to ad- just some business affairs which had suffered from his long absence, and Margie and her friends went up to her own home. He was ta follow them hither on the ensuing day Aud so it happened that once more Margié sat in her old familiar cham- yer dress) r the coming of Archer Treviyni, What should she put on? She reniembered = the rose-colored Gress she liad laid away that dreadful Hight so long ago. But now'i the rose-polored dreams had come back, why not wear the rose-colored dress ? She went to the wardrobe where she had locked it away. Some of the servants lad found the key out jin the erases where she had flung it Anat night, and fitted it to the lock. She lifted the dress, and the henutiful pearl orna- ments, and held them up to the light. not the instrument of a justly incensed Providence to work out the decrees of the destiny." "O, Archer! It was dreadful him to die as 'he did. Sut what life of misery it saved me from! will not think of it. I "Tt is best to do so. my presence at Harrison Park that night. [I went there hoping tocatch a glimpse of you. I wanted to see you for na _ | once La hefore you were lost to me | forey I | claim on | servants, | bly; to fly | kiss your hand. e 2?" id not desire to perk to ciel I did not desire to disturb you in any way; but I wanted to see you before that man had a legal T watched I had found out which was your window on one anc yatched its light which burned nroune the dusky twi- light like the evening star. I won- der if you had a thought for me, that night, Margie--your wedding night ?" "T did think of you--' she blushed, and hid her face on his shoulder--'l did think of you. I longed inexpressi- to your side and be forever you. dows closely. at rest!" "My darling! he ly, and went on: "I your room by the window and come down the garden path. I had felt that you would come. I was not sur- prised that you did. I had expected t.. I followed you silently, saw you kneel by the grave of your parents, heard you call out upon your father for pity. 0, how I loved and pitied you, Margie--but my tongue was tied --I had no right to speak--but I did Did you know it, Mar- her fond- kissed "iw you leave ~ ss " -- "Yes. "You recognized me, then? I meant you should. After thut I hurried away. I was afraid to trust myself near you longer, lest I might be tempt- ed to what .I might repent. I fled from the place and-knew nothing of the fearful deed done there until the papers arisen it the next day.' And I smypected you of the crime! O, Atreher ! Archer! how could 1 (ever have been so blind' How can | you over forgive me?" | vant. forgiveness, Margie. I | doubted you. I thought you were false to me, and lad fled with Cas- trani 'That unfortunate slove con- firmexl you, I suppose. I dropped it in my lmste to escape without your observation, and afterwurd I expect- ed to hear of it in counes:tion with the ancing of Linmere's body. never kne hat became of it my wife displayed it, that day when she taunted me with my crime. Poor Alexandrine ! She had the misfor- tune to loye me, and after your odie and your departure from Nev 'ork--in those days whe I anaes vou false as fair--I offered ber ny hand. TI thought, periiaps she might be happier as my wife, and felt that I owed her something for her devoted love. tried to do my duty by ber, but a man never can do that by his wife, unless he loves util re- _ er." "You acted i, what you thought was best, he. did. enon knows I a She died in coming to mei my for- giveness for the taunting words she hasl spoken at our last pa girs 2 Was cruel. went away fron in pride and ane and left behind means by -- she neibcactcl ret th" { deserved poor Do you know, near' that it was the knowledge that you wanted me which was sending me_ leave it all." i But to explain your win- } at of the | nl The dress: was fresh and unfaded, but it was full four yerrs tehind the style! Well, ae did that matter? She had a fanc or wearing it. She wanted to t: tye up her life just where she oer left it when she put off that } dre To 'the unbounded horror of Florine, she arrayed herself in the old-fash- ioned dress, and wnited for her ra And she had not long to wait. heard his well-remombered step in the hall, and a moment after she was folded in lis arms. there wus a bridal Harrison Park. The day was clear and cloudless--the vir almost as balmy s the air of spring. Such a Christ- mas hand not been known for years. The sun shone brightly, and soft winds sighed through the Jeafless trees. And Margie wes married, and not a cloud came between her and the sun. Peace and Archer Treviyn At. Christmas content dwelt with and his wife in their beautiful hume. Having suffered, they knew better how to be grateful for, and to appreciate the blessings at last bestowéd upon them At their happy fireside there comes to sit. sometimes, of an evening, a quiet, grave-ficed mon. A man whom Archer Treviyn and his wife love as 1 dear brother. prize above all Shares earthly friends. And beside pitoal Castrani, Leo sits, serene and toriniative: enjoying a green cld Sp in peace and plenty. Cnstrani will never marry, but sometime in the hereafter, I think he will have his recompense. (The End.) Has Strongly easy ei ce the Commons. It is a fact worthy of record that at least fifty mer mbers of the House of Commons are able personally to bear united and ecaviiene testimony to the good effects of Dr. Agnew's Catarrhal Powder in case of told in the head or catarrh in ite several dif- ferent shapes. Thesé columns have recorded the testimony .of mem representing constituencies in every corner of the reeds ' At this writ- ing we have befc the words of Arthur A. een uneau, M. P., of pol genio Que., and Hugo H. Ross, Ba POF Dundas, who join with their other members in telling what this remedy has done for them in cases of catarrhal trouble. At the nt time, when any are suffering from influenza the head, it in a friend indeed. in Something He Could See at Last. Cobbler the blind one, Jones--Yas, my Ciem who wuz a fide rag is all right now 7 Farmer Jones--Haow's that "Wal, he got a job in roth heels y at a theatre in New York whar they hed livin' picters, an' his sight kem re Remember hid don't aiverle for mere effect, but for b We satel that, you are subject that you should have a prompt, efficient remedy on hand. Nerviline--nerve-pain has a wonderful and immediate cura- tive power. It relieves in one minute; it-cures:in five Pleasant to the taste and the best "knows remedy for pain. A caravan of 10,000 camels and 4,- 000 peste left Timbuctoo for Moroc- co recen A short eee will attract more attention than a good one.