H *iv,nS! And how
IJkJ- It snowa!”
Matthew Tor
r a n c o slipped
the little jabtn
HE night be
fore Thanks
wildow back over Its channeled
Biooves. The prospect of turbid grecn
ttoh waves below, and whito, fast-falling
wildernesses of snow obscuring the at
*aMsphere above was scarcely so enliv
■weing as the cheery coal Are within, and
The lamp swinging softly from the low,
•rehcd roof.
« The Palling Leaf—she was only a lit
tle sailing vessel, bound to the bleak
ohirts of Maine from a Sicilian port—
wnw within a day’s sail of home, and
■fcef two passengers, long oxilad from
•hi rocky coast of their nativity, were
•ahpe together, trying to realise that
I; Their Journey’s end was so near.
Matthew Torrance walked up and
| ' -Town the warm cabin with folded arms
; aad downcast eyes, whoso lambent Am
•sotreated strangely with the streaks of
•Hirer in his luxuriant black hair. Sud
Tejriy be paused, and turned abruptly
•: he the old man who sat directly under
aehth the circle of light thrown by the
-••ringing lamp.
tWhet are yon reading, Mr. Hayes?’’
the old gentlemr.n looked up with a
. Tranquil smile.
niv
-..K'
§$r-'
Af^sj,' V:
i
II
f? *
fi'.'i/' .
Wii
"Toe bo ok I read oftonest, Mr. Tor
•cwiea—the book that answers to every
want and mood ot my nature."
"Oh, the Bible. Can—can you find the
•■ruble of the Prodigal Son?"
. -Tee." ■
"It seems as If I should like to hear
tat to-night.”
‘Samuel Hayes turned to the place
softly read aloud the sweet old Bl
story. As his voice dlod away Tor
drew a deep, long sigh. .
**! suppose that parable Is meant to
fdujitmie God’s patience and long suf
fering?"
“Undoubtedly."
—Ah! bat that prodigal son only
"hieat hie substance and wasted bis life
Swllably. He was not beyond the pale
*f Mrgtveness."
The old minister pushed his spec
4aeles up on his forehead.
"What do you mean?"
Matthew Torrance stopped In front of
*<hs table.
“I had a friend once—a near and dear
iMrtsad, who—well, he >,?d his faults, I
WUa*t deny that He was a wild, pas
fellow, but there were good
■flay about him, too. Ho had a twin
BMthar, and one day, in a sudden gust
**«e-there was plenty of provoca
-s. for both loved the same girl, and
i waa a heartless coquette—he raised
hand against this brother, and—"
"Wall."
_*And murdered him! killed him!
»MM«ch him down as Cain struck Abel,
-i he fled the country, and has never
heard of alnce. But. If I know my
. ha ba* repented it long
Emtterly since—repented It with an
jhsh of despair that la past descrlp
1 Now tell me. Mr. Hayes, is there
and forgiveness for such as he?”
’Though your tins ho as scarlet they
** ,now! though they
™ ““O crimson, they shall be white
mm wooir softly repeated the old eler
HW.
Matthew; "but aueh a
P1;1? Ood! Cain bore the accursed
,®f murder to hts graver
"There Is forgiveness tor all within
the limits of infinite love!”
Matthew Torrance resumed his walk
and said no more; and through the tem
pest, and darkness of the November
night the little Falling Leaf plodded on
towards the beacon lights that starred
the far-off, rock-hound coast of Maine.
And when the lurid light of dawn flut
tered its sullen banners athwart the
east ■ they ran merrily into port, with
show-covered rigging and bulwarks
ridged with royal ermine.
Matthew Torrance was home again
after twenty long years of exile and
solitude,
"It’s a perilous business,” said Mat
thew to himself, “but I can’t endure it
any' longer. • I am changed in every re
spect; my own mother would sacrcely
know me now; and I must breathe in
the air of home once more or I shall
Matthew plodded up the hill where
the hazel copses grew, and the dead
leaves rustled softly in the hollows un
der the road. Half-way up the hill a lit
tle church nestled among the low-grow
ing pines and spruces, with whlte
gleamlng stones sloping down the de
scent behind. Matthew Torrance
turned away his head with a shudder.
"He lies burled there,” he murmured,
with a face that was paler than ashes;
"he, the fair-haired brother Paul, that
was almost like a portion of myself, the
brother that I murdered. Oh, Ood! the
years of anguish and remorse that I
have endured might almosyiave atoned
for it, and yet—yet—why did I return
to re-open the old wounds? Shall I turn
back even now? It is not Vet too late.”
He stood a moment irresolute.
"No—I will go on—I will take one
peep into the old window where the
cinnamon roses grow—the window of
the keeping-room—and then I will go
forth once more into my exile and soli
tude. Alas! it Is a hard punishment to
endure for one act of heedless passion
—a hard, hard punishment—and yet I
must bear it to the bitter end.”
"Shall I light the ' candles, Uncle
Ebenezer?”
“What for, child ? Isn’t a sight pleas
anter to sit here by the blaze of these
hickory logs? What do you say,
mother?"
Mrs. Torrance started.
“I—I don’t know; what was it you,
asked me, Ebenezer? I was thinking
about something else.”
She was a mild-faced matron, with
large hazel eyes, once bright as jewels,
but now dim with many tears—a ma
tron whose silver hair lay in shining
bands over a furrowed brpw, and Eben
ezer, a bowed down old man, sitting
opposite in his easy-chair, had some
thing of the same trouble in his face.
But Clara 'Willis, kneeling on the rug
between them, with her bright face
turned to the fire, was lovely enough
to redeem the darker shadows. Blue
eyed, with hair of reddish brown, lit up
with golden gleams, checks velvet red
and dimpled, and Ups like cut coral
you never would have believed that
Clara had passed her thirty-sixth year
There are some faces to which caprici
ous Nature has granted the boon of
perennial youth, and Clara’s was ono of
these.
"Well, just as you please, uncle,” said
Clara, straightening the folds of the
ruffled white aipron that she wore. "Sup
per is all ready.”
She looked around with a glance of
housewifely pride at the daintily gar
fer\'#rA
NOT TO BE TREATED LIGHTLY.
FvM* of the Farm—"How bow, Monsieur Reynard! Are you n.in«
wUb ymv preference ter turkey la ao well known? I conaidertha*
'.&A*
nished table that wa3 spread In the cen
ter of the apartment. It was a very
bid-fashioned room, with a home-made
carpet, and curtains trimmed ' with
knotted fringe, while the window seats
were full of thrifty geraniums and
petunias. A tall clock in the corner
tidied monotonously, and the brasScan
dlesticbs gleamed from the mantel as
brightly as if they had been fashioned
out of.gold.
“A quarter past five,” said Ebenezer
Torrance, adjusting his iron spectacles
to glance at the clock. “I don’t see
what keeps that boy so. Clara, I ’most
wish you could have made up your
mind to marry him, and then we
shouldn't ha’ had him chasing down to
-quire Doan’s after Margaret half the
time. There, child, you needn’t turn so
pale—I'm not in earnest.”
Mrs. Torrance put out her motherly
hand to smooth Clara’s golden hair, as
the fair woman shrank as from a blow.
"Clara, Clara, It wasn’t your fault.’’
‘‘But it was my fault, Aunt Miriam—
it was my fault. Do I not know where
your thoughts have been all this day,
when other mothers have their happy
families gathered around them? Oh,
Aunt Miriam, If I could only have died
instead'”
At this moment, while the firelight
was filling the homely room with such
a glow and fulness of ruddy life, Mat
thew Torranco was slowly toiling up
the road, in the chill gloom of the fast
darkening night. As he paused a mo
ment to rest against the gnarled trunk
of a deformed willow, where he had
many and many a time played as a boy,
a tall, straight figure passed him, strid
ing swiftly along and whistling an old
fashioned air. As it passed, Matthew
shrank back as if a sword had pierced
his heart.
“He used to whistle that tune. I have
not heard it in twenty years before.”
. So Matthew toiled on.
There it was, the old familiar light In
in? to listen.- "What noise is that out
side?” •
"Only the wind among the bushes;
how nervous you are getting, puss.”
"No—but, Paul, do, please, look; I
thought I heard some one’s voice."
Paul Torrance burst into a merry
laugh, half derisive, half fond, and
strode to the door.
"Of course there’s no one.here; I told
you so, Clara, hut—hold on, though!
Hallo, you! what are you doing under
our windows?”
He made a step forward, but stopped
suddenly, holding his hand to his
breast as if a ball had pierced it.
“Mother, it’s Matthew! it’s our Mat
thew!”
And the two brothers, separated by
long years and racking doubts, were'
in each other’s arms before Clara could
reach the door.
Tn flftpr vaarn
ItTof f VtftTtr Tnrra n no
never could have told how he reached
the wide, cheery fire-place, nor how he
found hla mother sobbing on his breast,
and his father clasping both his hands,
while Clara—foolish little Clara, hid
away behind the big geraniums, and
cried as if her heart would break. He
only felt that he was at home once
more—free, safe, happy.
"Paul!” be stammered, “come here
and let mo look at you—let me feel your
hands. Oh, my brother! I thought I
had murdered you!”
Paul burst into a laugh.
"You didn’t hit quite hard enough,
old boy; my skull was thicker than you
thought for. Oh, Mat! why have you
hidden yourself away from us all these
years?”
And Paul's laugh became a sob.
"But we won’t be fools!” said Paul,
resolutely. “Clara, come here, you
little goose! Don’t be afraid to take
her hand, Mat! She loved you best,
and she has been waiting patiently for
you-twenty years.”
.
'DAT 'POSSUM SMELL. POW'FUL GOOD.*
the old familiar window, gleaming out
like a star. . '
Torrance hesitated.
"Am I right in pressing on?" Who
knows but one coveted glance may
bring sharper pain than years of silence
and doubt? Who knows but that the
chairs are empty, the hearthstone sur
rounded by other faces and tforms?
Were it not best to leave the old home
stead shrouded in merciful uncerfhinty?
No; I have dared too mufch to pause
now."
He softly lifted the latch of the gar
den gate and passed up the narrow
path.
Yes; there was his father, old and
silver-haired, but living still; and his
mother sat opposite, with the hglf-fin
ished stocking on the gleaming needles,
just it had been twenty years ago, and
the black silk holiday dress fastened
at the throat with the little gold pin,
fashioned like a sea shell, that he re
membered so well. And Clara, as beau
tiful as ever, with a ripened, mature
loveliness, how royally the fire turned
her heavy coronals of hair to coils of
gold, as she bent to light the tall can
dles in the polished brass candlesticks.
Like a sleeping giant the old love rose
up once more in his heart as he looked
on the face of the girl whose syren-like
charmB had maddened him to the one
desperate act of his life. And—Father
of all mercies! was he dreaming, or was
the great horror of £ls darkest antici
pations overwhelming him—madness?
Even as he looked, a tall figure passed
from an obscure part of the room into
the full glow of fire and candles, stand
ing with one hand on the old lady's
shoulder.
-Paul! Paul!”
The words strove to shape them
selves, but the parched tongue refused
to give them utterance. Matthew Tor
rance struggled like a man under the
dreadful spell of nightmare.
"Hush!” said Clara, suddenly paus
2k: to; ..Ay-feiSv? 3;
“Paul!” faltered Clara, reproachfully.'
“Well, what’s the matter? If you’ll
only expedite matters a little, we can
have two weddings at once, for I’m to
be married to Maggie Dean next month,
old Mat.”
The twenty years of trial were over,
and Matthew Torrance kept Thanksgiv
ing under his own roof-tree, with a
heart that needed no proclamation to
stimulate its Intensity of gratitude.
THANKSGIVING PICTURE.
What if the gold of the corn lands
Is faded to sombre gray?
And what if the down of the thistle
Is ripened and scattered away?
There’s gold in the gathered harvest;
There’s homely and heartsome cheer;
And so we will be full joyous—
The day of thanksgiving is here.
A sigh for the vanished splendor
Of the autumn's purple and red—
For the golden-rod that is whitened, '
For the gentian bloom that is dead;
Then turn to the hearthstone cheery;
Behold, ’tis the time of year
To count our blessings and mercies—
The day of thanksgiving is here.
Bare and brown in the shadows, ~
The meadowland meets the gaze.
Where the, bold, blithe bee went seek
ing
Its sweets in the summer days.
The honey is stored In plenty
So what if the winter is neaz'?
The time is not one for repining—
The day of thanksgiving is here.
The fruit has matured in its season.
The sunshine .has ripened the seed.
Then sing to the Lord of the harvest
A song of thanksgiving Indeed.
The morn and the noon have passed by
us;
’Tis the sweet afternoon of the year;
So let not your tribute be lacking—
The day of thanksgiving is here.
An Expensive Dinner.
A trio were sitting on the postofflct
pnard rail one niff lit telling stories
One of them related this: “I know ol
a fellow who had spent a very quiet
life in the country and had never been
to tjje city. Coming inton little money
he suddenly developed a desire to be n
sport and immediately departed for the
city. It was his habit after arriving
to lounge around the corners in the
central part of the city, and ho natur
ally heard the gilded youth talking
about the amount of money -they
spent.
■“Say', I had a great dinner last
night,’ he heard one say, ‘and it cost
me $20.’
"Many other remarks like this he
heard, and the rustic sport decided to
get into the swim too. lie made up his
; tnind at once to get an expensive din
ner, not realizing thaf the most of the
money spent by the boasters he had
overheard had been for wine. Walk
ing into a swell restaurant, he called
the waiter over. . ‘Say, look here,’ said
he, ‘I want an expensive dinner like
the best of the bloods. Bring me 520
worth of ham and eggs.’ ”
Horseradish growing has been
brought to the point where best culti
vated will sell at prices nearly double
those realized for the root when indif
ferent in quality. New Jersey sup
plies a large part of the eastern de
mand, best selling in New York at $7
to $8 per ICO lbs. This is for cultivated
horseradish of one year’s growth and
grown by experts. The finest grade
sells in Boston at 810 per 100 lbs, when
washed, and 88 unwashed, with Infe
rior and dirty stuff lacking in strength
and attractiveness all the way down to
83.00 and S3. At New Haven limited
sale at SO. Horseradish should be
washed before shipping.
---
World's Fair I HIGHEST AWARD.
IMPERIAL
* <3rRANUM
Always WINS HOSTS of
FRIENDS wherever its
Superior Merits become
known. It is the Safest
FOOD for Convalescents!
Sold by DRUGGISTS EVERYWHERE I
John Carle & Sons. New York. 3
The Greatest rtedical Discovery
of the Age.
KENNEDY’S.
MEDICAL DISCOVERY,
DONALD KENNEDY, DP ROXBURY, MASS.,
Has discovered- in one of our common
pasture weeds a remedy that cures every
kind of Humor, from the worst Scrofula
down to a common Pimple.
He lias tried it in over eleven hundred t
cases, and never failed except in two cases [
(both thunder humor). He has now in his
possession over two hundred certificates
of its value, all within twenty miles of
Boston. Send postal card for book.
A benefit is always experienced from
the first bottle, and a perfect cure is war
ranted when the right quantity is taken.
When the lungs are affected it causes
shooting pains, like needles passing
through them-, tfie same with the Liver
or Bowels. This is caused by the ducts
being stopped, and always disappears in a
week after taking it. Read the label.
If the stomach is foul or bilious it will
cause squeamish feelings at first. |
No change of diet ever necessary. Eat
the best you ca.i get, and enough of it
Dose, one tabiespeonful in water at bed
time. Sold by all Druggists.
iti ij nm i i tw’mohan.v.'cci Auixuii&s
It is a Pleasure
To recommend Hood's Sarsaparilla to all
afflicted with blood or skin diseases. My
blood was out of order, and I suffered for
years from psoriasis. I tried several
remedies without benefit. After taking
Hood’s Sarsaparilla
for two months I was restored to my for
mer good health and feel like a different
person. As a blood purifier I think
Hood’s Sarsaparilla has no equal.”
Cdas. L. Cockelreas, Irving, Illinois.
HnnH’a Djlla act harmoniously with
IIUUU 3 r ilia Hood’s Sarsaparilla. 35a
A few
Doses of
SMflobb’s I
KimreyPills *■
will relieve 5
Pains in your Back, Sides, 4*
Muscles, Joints, Head. etc. ®
and all Kidney Troubles;
Rheumatism, Gout, An
aemia, and other Blood
Troubles, caused by sick
kidneys.
A few boxes will
cure.
All druggists, or mailed
postpaid for 50e. per box.
Write for pamphlet.
HOBB'S MEDICINE CO.t
Chicago. San Francisco.
>-WRITE
W. H. Barrett, president of the Atlan
tic, Iowa, and Nebraska City. Nebras
ka. Business Col loses and Shorthand
Schools, for an explanation of the best
and most unique course In business'
training now in use. Not taught in 1
other schools. Car fare paid. j
Zachary T. Lindsey,
Whole
Dealers send for Catalogues, Omaha, Neb.
Patents. Trade-MarksT
Examination ana Advice rts to Patentability of
Invention. Send for “ inventors* Guido, or How to Gets
a Patent.” ?A^:r GTA2S3LL, Y7AS2I2TGT0SJ, D. 3.
W. N. U., OMAHA, 48. 1805.
When writing to advertisers mention
this paper.
Don’t Tobacco
Spit and Smoke
Your Life
Away!
makes
the nerves
strong, and
brings back
the feelings of
youth to the pre
maturely old man.
It restores lost vigor.
You may gain tan
pounds in ten days.
GUARANTEED
TOBUM MOT CURE.
Gk> buy and try a box to-day. It
costs only $1. Your own druggist
' will guarantee a cure or money re
funded. Booklet, written guarantee of cure
and sample free. Address nearest office.
THE STERLING REMEDY CO.,
CHICACO. MONTREAL, CAN. NEW YORK.
A|iiA|IIETC candy cathartic cars constipation. Purely vegetable, smooth and
llnduAnhlw easy, sold by druggists every where,-*—J ~ ~
guaranteed to euro. Only 10c.
the food for al! such.
'A
How many pale folk
there are! People who
have the will, but no power
to bring out their vitality;
people who swing like
a pendulum between
s strength and weakness—
so that one day’s work «
causes six days’ sickness!
People who have no life
jor resisting disease—inin people, nerveless, delicate:
The food for all such men, women, or children is Scott’s A
Emulsion. The hypophosphites combined with the oil ▼
will tone up the system, give the blood new life, improve
the appetite and help digestion. The sign of new life will
be a fattening and reddening, which brings with it strength,
comfort and good-nature.
Bt tun jvu gtt Scot ft Emultiuu tthem yuu mu ut it mud nut u tktuf tuMtiutt.
Scott & Bowne, Now York, aii Druggists. 5oc. and 3i.
• . • r.. v '■< i, „ • ‘
