The Welsh Coast Pioneer and Review for North Cambria

CHARLESWORTH BOXES SEIZED. CONTENTS TO BE SOLD IN BIRMINGHAM The three boxes belonging to Miss Charted worth, which have been in possession of the tv*J railway companies at Birmingham, were hand«" over to a sheriff's officer cn Friday under aI order from the court. The boxes were claivioa by the officer on behalf of Mr Walter Hill. Colne, Wiltshire, in respect of costs incurred it decorating Colne Hall- The contents of tj^! boxes will be offered for sale by auction at mingham on Thursday next. The boxes corf- tain several valuable skin rugs, a and records, books of music, and other articll*

MISS CHARLESWORTH ON THE MUsrf HALL, STAGE 9 STORMY RECEPTION. -I I Miss V. "Gordon" Charlesworth fpred tl1' music on Monday in more than one sense of tby- word. Advertised as "The Lady of the Mystery" she appeared in two matinees Dud three evening bills at Collins's Music Hall, Is' lington, the Canterbury, Westminster road, and the Paragon, at ivtile ilind. At eri'J1 J' performance there was a house full to overcrowd* s ing, and it was evident that the young iidy would not get an altogether favouraole rrt-ep, tion. ,t Solemn music was played before the "turn, and when the curtain went up the public wera somewhat irritated by a gentleman who con", cealed an obvious nervousness under a stren^ ous smile. He entered into a long history °\ the events which had led up to the appearand of Miss Charlesworth, and denied the statemeflj that she owed a firm of solicitors £ 10,000; aDj taking the audience into his confidence, assure" them that the lady was not a dashing adveJ^. turests," but a nervous little gii^who was doiV$ her best to pay her creditors. This statement was continually interrupted bl., derisive cries, shrill and ear-splitting whistldt loud laughter, and that peculiar style of repartee which distinguishes the galleries of the ParagoO^ Mile End,and of the Canterbury Music Hall. bland gentleman, still trying to be cheerful, th aaid: "I have much pleasure in introducing M'3* Charlesworth." -S IN SCOTTISH COSTUME ff At the back of the stage the curtains p&rt^ < and there stepped out a slim girl in a Scottisjj cap and a long red motor-coat, trimmed witj! fur. She faltered toward the footlight aW bowed low, while her "interpreter" explained that this was indeed the missing lady motorist who had been found in the famous red cloak- On his amiable suggestion she slipped off th^ cloak and stood revealed in a kilt and jacket Gordon tartan. At each music hall there was the same perforiO! ance. The gentleman accompanying her begg0** for the indulgence of the audience because, owing to Miss Charlesworth's "shattered nerves," thd doctor had forbidden her to sing her two rong* "Good-bye, Mavourneen," and girlie." Miss Charlesworth was white to the lips, and as she stared forward at the great audience jJI the dim light, and heard the laughter, the r& peated shouts of scorn, the prolonged hooting the sharp volleys of clapping of those who SYIU. pathised with her, the steady hissing of thoSof who were determined to show their jisapprovaii, she was obviously terrified. Her worst ordeal was the Canterbury. Tb. audience there would not even listen to tb^ smiling gentleman with his "explanation," a* all parts of the great audience capped his re- marks by very scornful and very pointed 1r joinders. Miss Charlesworth looked as if sh^ were the verge of fainting. She swayed shghtly, kept moistening her lips, and once or twl smiled in a piteous way. This time she was 11. asked to take off her red cloak, but her mana.g hurried her off the stage, to the sound of a fin4* burst of laughter.

RUTHIN RURAL DISTRIOrt COUNCIL. The monthly meeting of the above CüuJItl was held on Monday, Mr Owen Williams wheeler) presiding. The Medical Officer (Dr. T. O. Jones) rep*' ted that nine deaths and eight births had registered during Oho four weeks ended ary 30th, giving annual death and birth of 13.1 an-d 11-3 per thousand- The district J*9 been free from notifiable infectious diseases- The condition of the water supply of Llanarm0^ school was discussed on the Sanitary Inspect^ report. It was stated that the school depend^ solely on rain water for its supply, this be1^* stored in tanks, and then filtered. The tor stated that the water sometimes in the tanks for months, and t>hat the were often out of order and unsatisfactory. ij Mr T. O. Jones (Nant Clvvyd) said it was time to remove the Llanarmon water supP^j question from the Council's agenda once for all (hear, hear). Scheme after scheme been prepared by the Inspector (Mr Jones), approved of, and then oast aside- It was unanimously decided to call the tion of the County Education Committee to ™ matter. w The Parish Council of Pentreoelyn reccr>fil constructed a new road, 1198 yards in leng^ just above the hamlet, and a letter was v°^ read asking the District Council to adopt A small committee was appointed to visit place and report. i The Chairman, on behalf of the Council, gratulated the Clerk's deputy and son—Mr E. Humphreys Roberts—on having1 qualifiedJ a solicitor.—Mr Roberts suitably aoknowledii*^ the Council's kind wishes.

A lady has given to the Royal Institution, don, an anonymous and unconditional dona of £ 10,000.

THE SHOW GIRL ÐY MAX PEMBERTON, of "The Iron Pirate," "Red Morn," "A Puritan's Wife," "The Huadred Days," &c. SYNOPSIS. HTCNP.Y QASTONAED, a student of sculpture In Paris, has been left a fortune of seven thousand pounds a year on oondition tlHt he is earning five hundred pounds a year bv his own labour and talent by the time he is twenty- five. If that condition is unfulfilled the money is to go to a cousin, Gastonard is now twenty-four, and there ueems to 1Je llO prospect of his ever receiving the fortune. He wr tes to l1is friend Paddy O'Connell telling of his acquaintance witl1 Mimi—"The Show Girl"-and an adventure with a gang of Apaches, who attack him in Paris. having ,1esigni1 upon a gold. and. dilmwnd cigarette ease which they think he carries, but which is actnaJly in Mimi's pClI8e8sion. Tn the opportune arrival of the police Henry is indehted [or escaping from the rnffians with a wnale skin, but he fin-Is himself with Mimi on his hands, for the girl, who lias restored to Harry the cigarette cat.6, dares not return to her former associates. She tells him all she knows af bel" h.t0ry, which is not much, She remembers, far back in her childhood, an old lady who was kind to her, and after that, she has no knowledge of any other life but that of a show-girl, travelling about the COHIItrv with II. Hon-t<>.mer, of whom she still stands ia terror. At his wit's eud to know what tø do with his prot?ge, Gastonard appeals to his friend Madame Lea d'Alengon. » i CHAPTER V. [Henry Gastonard writes to Paddy O'Connell telling him the story of a dinner and a. challenge.) Hotel St. Paul, Paris. May 30th, 1905, Dear Paddy,—This is to tell you that I go out with Bernard d'Alen^on somewhere about daybreak to-morrow, and that when I write again, Paris will be in possession of a. pretty scandal. I am not joking, my dear Paddy. A more serious human being than Henry Gastonard does not exist in all this city to-night. I am to fight Bernard d'Alengon, and I am to fight him somewhere in the neighbourhood of the Bois at five o'clock to-morrow morning. The affair is as irrevocable as the gunset I have ju.st witnessed from the Chalets du Cycle, where Mademoiselle Mimi has given me tea and recited, to the great astonishment of waiters and cyclists alike, the first- lesson she received this morning from Fciletier, of the Conservatoire. So, if you please, has this great question of the hoar been settled. A woman's shrewd opinion has backed up a mere man's idea that something may be made of Mimi the Simpleton, something at least ventured in her interests. The suspicion that this chit of the fetes foraines may yet startle Paris is so much an obsession where I am concerned that I have willingly agreed to place her with Pelletier for twelve months and to see what comes of it. He ie too clever a man to try to make a silk purse out of a sow's ear. He will train her for the Vaudeville or the Palais Royal, and if he cannot make a success of her, then is she lost indeed. She lodges meanwhile in a little English pension near the Louvre, and God help its inmates if she have the mind to misbehave herself Be sure that for me this is a closed book, and that I am very unlikely, when once this other folly is over, to see or hear of Mistress Mimi again. The whim of a moment has given her a chance in Paris; the whim of another will banish her from my recollection when, as must be, if I am not killed to-morrow morning, I set out to save my fortune from my cousin and to make those five hundred pounds per annum which will enable me to hold it. Yoa will remember, Paddy, that when last I wrote to you, I was about to dine in blessed seclusion with that amiable but charming woman Lea d'AleB9on. Providence and a far from belle Americaine saved me from such an imprudence. The American lady, I under- stand, appeared just when Lea was wrestling with a refractory hat and an equally obsti- nate pyramid of her famous black hair. She carried a letter from Elke d'Alen§on, the Captain's sister, who is now in New York, and could not, in decency, be denied. What Lea said, or, better still, what she thought, I leave you to guess; but she covered her retreat by asking her cousin Emilie, who is madly in love with young Derogy of the Chasseurs, and by sending post haste for tM cavalryman to join us. So we were five at the table instead of two, and we dined at Armenonville and not at the Cascade. I was glad of this—frankly glad. Lea is too good a friend of mine that I should ever w ish her to become anything else. And re- member, Paddy, that virtue is as much a matter of opportunity and .of accident as of the commandments, both written and un- written. To you alone would I confess my belief that it had been her intention to bring matters to a crisis this night. Bernard was conveniently at Fort Valerien; her mother had gone to Tours to let their chateau to a Yankee from Vermont; I had come to her in a romantic mood and appealed to her upon the score of my interest in another woman— a.sure passport to intimacy. And then upon the top of it all the lady from New York, Jenny Middleton she called herself, with an accent to butter your bread and the eye of the eagle as it soars. Oh, we were a merry party, be sure; and even cousin Emilie (who is married to a man of sixty as sour as vinegar and as yellow) made little of her cavalryman in such a presence. You know the dinner at the Armenonville, as good as it is dear, as chic as it is distant. We discussed London restaurants with our soup; the Vemey scandal with our fish; the character of the American man with the entree and Mimi the Simpleton with the ices. Mrs. Middleton, I observed, was much interested in the character of my protegee and firm in her belief that I had made a fool of myself. "She will go back to the lion-tamer in a month," she said, "and leave you with the bill for a keepsake." When Lea began her dissertation upon virtue, the lady from the West joined in the merriment, and I perceived that here was an American who, like others of her country- women, had no interest in Paris virtuous but much in Paris of the vices. It was cheerful to be done with it all at last, and to begin that momentous return which might land me either in an infamy or, at the best, destroy my friendship with the charming Lea. I say the fun began at Armenonville, and you will readily understand the nature of it. Lea did not disguise her intention to return in my caIr-Emilie was equally insistent upon riding with the guard5maD. For a little while we stood in the glitter of the lights, amid the most wonderfully dressed women in the world, scheming and planning to our different ends. First it would be Lea sug., gesting three cabs and a hurried departure— then the cavalryman gallantly volunteering to telephone for an automobile which would carry us all. Mrs. Middleton herself provi- dentially had special designs upon me, and watched her prey with a feline patience beau- tiful to behold. When two cabs appeared, I put the agitated daughter of Venus in the fir6t of them, and by a ruse got Lea and Emilie and the cavalryman into the second. This was providential to be sure, if we may suppose Providence stoops to the mild intrigues of pretty Frenchwomen for I may tell you that d'Alenqon himself did not stop the night at Fort Valerien, but was back in his own apartment at half-past nine, and de- tected there by Lea just at the moment she was waiting for me to appear and take her to supper as I had promised. Ah, the dear soul, what a terrible five minutes she must have spent upon the pavement waiting for my cab But a blessed destiny had sent me on with the Stars, to say nothing of the Stripes, to the gates of the Jardin de Paris, whence a messenger carried a hasty note back to Lea telling her of the impossibility of it. 011, these fair Americans Do you know, Paddy, that if I were a man of genius, I would make the five hundred a year which my father's Will demands just by catering for their naughtiness in Paris. Of course, the whole affair would have to be a sham, as un- like the true Paris as Bayswater is unlike London, and no more Ticiou. than a magic- lantern show in a Sunday School. Then I should catch the class which now visits that poor place the Jardin de Paris, net the fools who go to the Moulin Rouge because they ought not to go, and send them back to their native laad as happy as a "week-ender" who has seen the Louvre. Mrs. Middleton, I discovered, had come to Paris to write a book unon French social customs. She assured me that it was im- perative upon her to visit the music-halls, "I want to see the people play," she said. "I guess they work pretty well the samo everywhere; but it's the national games I'm set upon." When I pointed out to her that the lady who displayed hose to her fel- low-countrymen at the Jardin de Paris was a Spaniard, and not a Frenchwoman, she in- sisted immediately on going to verify the fact. It was two in the morning before I got rid of her, and then I had to tell her that if she were shut out of her hotel the police would want to know the reason why. So you see, Paddy, I neither dined nor supped with the charming Lea; and, once more having escaped those fascinating toils, returned at length to a welcome bed. When I awoke on the following morning the valet at the hotel informed me that Captain Ber- ton, of the Engineers, desired particularly to see me, and upon the fellow being shown ap I learned in ten words that he had come to arrange this pleasantry with d'Alen$on. Perhaps, had I been clothed and in my right mind I should have answered him as he deserved, offered to punch the Captain's head, and told his ambassador not to make fwol of himeelf. This, unfortunately, did not happen. Herton caught me when l was both tired and irritable, and I sent him headlong to Hoaore de Villefort, that old rascal of a Chevalier who will never cease to remind me of hia obligation. What is even worse, Paddy, I named pistols—and that ia just the maddest thing your friend Heary Gastonard had done since he was bora. I am a fool—I know it. Often as I have desired to play in one of those gigantic farces they call an affair of honour in Paris, never did I contemplate standing up to a man with a pistol in my hand. Of course, I had no real cause of quarrel with Bernard d'Alengon, nor he with me. He is madly jealous of the charming Lea, and hates me like poison; if he can shoot me to-morrow morning, he will do 80. But, Paddy, I shall, in very truth, have finished my French education when this is over, and be prepared to return to England and a sober life. It is true that there might b3 an accident—you may say the same every time you call a hansom cab—but, Paddy, if the fun should be spoiled and this man hit me, then I call upon you, as the oldest friend I have, to do what you can for my little friend of the Butte, and to remember that there is no one else in all Christendom who would give her sixpence if not—Your friend, HARW CHAPTER VI. [Being a telegram from Paddy O'Connell to his friend, Henry Gastonard.] You must be mad. Have wired the Em- bassy. Am coming over.—Paddy, CHAPTER VII. [A letter from the Rev. Arthur Warrington of Beedon, Suffolk, to Mrs. Arthur War- rington at Porchester Terrace, Bays- water.] My Dear Martha, — I will not say thank God; but, are we responsible for this un- happy young man's folly? Should it have pleased the Almighty to call liim I will see Sands and Collier about the estate at Inger- shall immediately. Please let me have tele- grams as the evening papers come in. To think that this should be the end of Henry [ Gastonard's fortune, his son a debauche in Paris, shot down in a vulgar duel about a married woman, and, I doubt not, precious gold lavished upon her. But we, dear wife, shall know how to spend that fortune to God's good ends. I shall, of course, buy a motor-car at once should the worst follow.—Your devoted hus- band, ARTHUR. CHAPTER VIII. rin which Paddy O'Connell of Glendalough, writes to his si&t?r Clara a full account of the duel between Henry Gastonard and the. Captain Bernard d'Alen^on.] Hotel St. Pa.ul, Paris, June 7th, 1905. Dear Clara, — You will have learned from the newspapers some of the news I have to tell you, but this will not make you less anxious to hear it a second time from a family pen. N I arrived in Paris early on the Saturday morning, and drove to the Hotel St. Paul; for, where else would I be driving at all on such a day? The newspapers gave me a fine account of poor Henry as we went along, and small hope had I of cheering him alive or talking to anything better than a corpse. When I arrived at his hotel, they would have shut the door in my face but for a way I have with them, and for sure- the journalists are here all day and would tear the very ban- dages from Harry's body to photograph the wound. h k Well, I made my way up to the siek man s room at last, and there found the poor fel- low stretched upon his bed and looking by no means so cheerful a.s I should have wisned to see him. By his side there was a little French girl, the one whom he wrote about last week, and a more beautiful creature the Lord never created. This, I confess, was some surprise to me. I am very well acquainted with the ladies of Paris, and had made a picture of this par- ticular lady for mvself. Clara, I was as far from the truth as Dublin from Cork. This is a face that the man Greuze should have painted. And oh, the airs and graces of her, the little winning ways, and the dignity. He tells me that she came from the circus; but if he were not on his back I'd call him a liar. Mimi the Simpleton for sure—why, she has the sense of twenty in her head, and 'tis your own Paddy who grows red in the face every time he argues with her. Well, the child sprang up upon my entrance, and stood there glaring at me lIKe a wild cat out of the shows. What French I remember leads me to the belief that her observations were neither flattering to my appearance nor my manner—but, God for- give me, I may have mistranslated it. As for Harry, he just stirred in his sleep and told me to go away, which so tickled me that I laughed like a boy at the pantomime. "Go awayi" says I, "Then'tis yourself that must be putting me out, for no other man in Paris can do it." "Why," says he, "if it isn't old Paddy." "My boy," cried I, "my friend—the only one that ever I shall love in all this world— oh, God forgive you, Harry, for this," says I. "Paddy," says he, "I thought you were a journalist. They've been here all day, Paddy." "Show me the man that will come here when I am by, and I will tell you where to bury him." "The old Paddy, every bit of him. Spoil- ing for a fight, as ever he was." There is no more peaceable man in Paris," says I; "but lucky that your Captain has gone to the wilds I'd have shot him. Harry, though the Parliament itself had been there to prevent me." He laughed again at this, but I saw that he was in pain, or, to be honest, the little Greuze girl did that same for me, and spoke words of which I was content to be hearing poorly. 'Tis plain she worships the ground he treads upon, though there is not much of that same just now-whil. as for the boy himself, if there's any woman in Europe he cares a button about, ask Paddy O'Connell to drink cold water, and see that he gets it. "Why do you oome here? Why do you make this noise?" she asked me oh, the impudenoe of it!—with her pretty eyes blaz- ing like coals and her cheeks so crimson that a Bishop might have kissed them. "Are you his friend to do this? Oh, be ashamed of yourself," says she, "and go away immedi- ately." 'Twas a just rebuke, Clara, and Paddy not the man to be minding it. Presently, when I had done penance before her, she permitted me to sit in a chair at the bedside and, every time I opened my mouth to speak, she looked so tremendous that I gulped down my words and ate them for very shame. By and bye the doctor came in and Mked Harry if I had been talking, and "never a word" says I, which was the truth to be sure. I should tell you that Harry was shot on the collar-bone, and devil a shirt will he bo putting on for a long while to come. 'Tis precious hard luck, for he was leaving for England next week to get hie living as the Will wants him to do. What's to come of it all now, God only knows. If he's not mak- ing five hundred a year by his own exertions this time next year, he'll lose his fortune, and that weedy old hack of a curate in Suffolk come in for the whole of it but a paltry hun- dred pounds & year. This must be talked over between us hereafter. To-day, when the doctor was gone, and the little witcn with the pretty face sent out to do some shopping for him, he told me the story of the fight, and sorry I am that Paddy O'Connell missed that entertainment. For it was a fine affair en- tiMly. "Why did you go out with the man?" I asked him. He answered me as shortly: "Curiosity, Paddy." "The cause of half the mischief in the world. Was the woman sorry about it?" "The beautiful Lea? Oh, my dear Paddy, she went to church to pray that I might shoot him." "There was nothing between you—you* solemn word, Harry?" "Paddy, am I the man-" "I'd like to meet the one who'd tell me that you were." "I have done everything that men do in Paris — why should I have missed this, Paddy?" "Ye were not the man to miss it. Show me the one who says so, and I'm ready for him." "I wanted to understand why people laugh at what they call an affair of honour. They all do laugh in England, and yet there are worse ways of putting a bit upon men's tongues. When I chose pistols I haraiy knew what I was doing. But I said it and had to stick to it, Paddy." "Of course, ye did. Ye weren't afraid off bim, Harry." "Not as yon would understand it upon my word, no. But a man who has been up all night in a reeking cafe, and then sees the sun rise over Belleville and remembers an appointment for six o'clock in a garden near Atiteuil, that man would be a liar to say he liked it. There was one mortal hoor, Paddy, when I would have given half my fortune te know what was going to happen. I remem- ber thinking that most Englishmen would have pooh-poohed the whole affair and fallen back upon the national cant about scruples. Blame old Villefort, who dosed me with half the filth they keep at the Taverne Royale— and that old beggar, Oleander, who drank enough brandy to poutoa a regiment on tb8 score of it; if We came down from the Butte singing aux Yeux Doux' with all our lungs. I tell you a lie and say that I thought Paria looked beautiful, or any- thing of the kind, for it just isn't Paddy. I Everything soeraed as cold as a November fog. The SUB shone sardonically—I remem- ber seeing maids about the doors of the houses, and envying them their occupation. A cabby who chaffed us was little better than an irritating blackguard, who should have been whipped. "When we arrived at Count Louvier'a house—you know we fought in his garden- I remember hearing the bell ring about five hundred times before they let us in. If anyone had spoken, if someone had made a joke, I would have been grateful to hira then, Paddy—but we just entered the hall of the house in silence, walked straignt through to the garden, went on down toward the river, and took up our positions on the borders of a little thicket of fir, without as much as a monosyllable from any one of them. I didn't like that—you wouldn't have liked it yourself, Paddy." "Ye should have whistled an air," said I, "laughed and joked yourself. That puts the iron into them. I remember that I was whittling Finnigan's Wake J when I knocked down Peter Morley, that had me up at the police-court afterwards. Ye should have whistled, Harry!" He smiled at the idea of it, and for some while he would not talk again. When he had rested himself and taken a drink of the stuff the doctor man gave him—God send me good whisky in such a plight!—he told me the rest of it. "They put a pistol into my hand, Paddy, and it felt just like an iron bar. When I saw d'Alen§on I wasn't angry with him, but the devil on two sticks could not have cut an uglier figure than he did. The man was shooting fire already from his eyes-he couldn't stand still a minute, was here and there and everywhere, but always turning hack to look at me, as though he would tear my heart out——" "Ye weren't behind in that, Harry?" asks 1. "Ye didn't wish him the top of the morning, or anything of that Paddy—but I was sorry to see him so angry. I had done him no injury—what he has suffered—for I khow Lea's story—is in admeasure, his own fault. Perhaps I had been wiser never to eee her at all—I used to swear I would cut it every time I left her. If Paris were not the smallest city in the world when you want to avoid anybody, I would have kept my word. But I think she used to wait for me—hide where she knew I would come, and make a fool of herself all the time. That's why the Cap- tain looked like a human devil when he stood opposite to me that morning. If he hadn't hit me with his bullet, I believe he would have used the butt." "Ay, and a man'a game, too, Harry. 'Tis one I would have had a hand in myself —but you shouldn't have missed him, boy— you used to be handy with a pistol, and you shouldn't have missed him." He sighed a bit at this, and I saw that I had wounded his vanity. Presently' he said:— "I could have shot him dead, Paddy, if I had wished—but, you see, I had Lea in my mind all the while, and I couldn't be angry about it. It is difficult to make you under- stand it, but when the Chevalier placed trs on the ground and put the pistol into my hand, I was half afraid to look at my man at all, his eyes were so queer. I could think of nothing else, Paddy. I didn't remember that he might hit me; I forgot the man al- together; the fight was between me and the ugliest pair of eyes I have ever seen. When the word came to fire, I turned very slowly and raised my pistol with a child's arm—I couldn't look the Captain in the face, Paddy." "And ye didn't try to hit him at all Harry? Will ye tell me that ye let the blackguard go empty?" "I fired when the Chevalier spoke, but I took no aim, Paddy. The Captain hung back and looked at me for some minutes be- fore he shot me. I remember that there is a little wall running at an angle behind the corner of the wood, and over this I could see the river and a barge. A woman was steer- ing a great lumber boat, and crying out something to a man on the towing path- and I kept asking myself when she would disappear from my sight; if it would be in- stantly in a sudden darkness; or slowly, as a picture fades from a sheet. When the crash came it was just as though a man had hit me with a hammer and then put a branding iron upon my shoulder. I forgot all about d'Alen§on's trouble then, and if I had held another pistol in my hand I would have shot him, rule or no rule. That's the truth, Paddy; the pain maddened me—I could have crushed his head in my hands, stamped him under foot—I no longer cared—I was sorry that there had been no reason for his challenge." "Shame on you for that. Please God, I'll shoot him before the week is out." "No, no, Paddy—I absolutely forbid you to do anything at all." "I tell ye I'll shoot him—right or wrong, I'll have a bang at him." He laughed—just the same boyish Harry Gastonard that won my love twelve years ago at Charterhouse. "He'll choose swords if you challenge him, Paddy." "Then let him chosse 'em and be hanged to him." He was about to reply when the little witch that Greuze should have painted came into the room again—and God forgive me, I told her that he had not opened his lips since the went out. It was now almost time for him to have his food—so I went up to my own room to write this letter. Be easy, Clara. The Captain is not in Paris, and there'll be no fightlllg-unless he should return—but of that you shall be the first to have the news. Would my sister have me stand by when my oldest friend is on his back and the whole French nation dancing for joy of it? I'll do no such thing—shame upon any O'Connell who would. So Gcd bless you, Clara—and more will I write when next I have a letter for you,—Your affectionate brother, PADDY. (To be Continued.)

LLANFAIRFECHAN URBAN DISTRICT COUNCIL. THE MODEL YACHT LAKE. The monthly meeting was held on Tuesday evening. The Chairman (Mr W. G. Roberts) presided, and the other members present were: Messrs R. C. Evans, Evan Jones, Owen Griffiths, T. G. Morgan, T- J. Owen, H. Jorss, Robert Hughes, W. G. Roberta (chemist), J. Harrison, J. R. Williams, L. D. Jones, Peter Williams, with the Clerk (Mr Ellis). The Collector (Mr Roberts) stated that he had collected JS50 of the general district rate and £24 Os Bel of the water rate during' the past month. A letter was read from Mr Alf. Wenworth offering to supply a minstrel troupe next sea- son, but it was stated that arrangements had been made already. The Board of Trade wrote with regard to the proposed extension of the model yacht lake that they oould not consider any applications for consent to any works unless the promoters had definitely decided to execute such works in ac- cordance with plans submitted to the Depart- ment. The Board were, therefore, unable at present to express anv opinion on the plans wib- mitted by the Council in the present case. If the Council decided to carry out the proposed lake extension on the lines generally indicated on the plans forwarded with the Council's let- ter, the Hoard, if they eventualiy decided to consent to the works, would be prepared to convey to the Council so much of the tidal land's required for the works as were under the man- agement of the Department in consideration of a sum probably not exceeding JS5. The Gover- nors of the St. Andrew's Hospital on the same subject desired to know w'hat new works were suggested by the Council at the artificial lake as they naturally wished to see that nothing was done which could in any way interferél with their land or sea wall.—It was decided to call a special meding of the Council to discuss the matter. Upon the report of the Finance Cammittee, Mr Robert Hughes expressed the opinion that more money should have been collected, and in reply to him the Collector said that the empty houses represented about; JB140. Mr W. G. Roberts (chemist) could not see why LlanfairfeChan was so badly off, compared with other places along the coast, particularly Penmaenmawr. Mr T. G. Morgan complained that the Coun- cil had to pay JB5 interest to the bank because certain persons would not pay their rates. The ChairmanWe have done so for some time now, more's the pity. Mr T. G. Morgan; also complained tfhat five weeks were allowed to elapse before any pay- ment wee made into the bank, and th&t was extremely unsatisfactory. He wished to clear himself of any responsibility. The Collector pointed out that according to the regulations he had to pay every £10 he re- ceived into the bank, but, of course, that was impracticable as he would have to run to the bank almost every minute- Mr Robert Hughes: You should take every halfpenny you receive to the bank as quickly as possible. The Collector: I bank oftener in tho summer months. A special meeting of the Finance Committee was summoned to discuss the arrears in the rates.

The "Pioneer" is recognised as one of the most popular newspapers in the Principality. Splendid medium for advertisers. 1

BY AN UNSEEN HAND BY JOHN K. LEYS, Author of "The Lindiays," If Held in the Toil# The Bolton Square T rapdy," &. SYNOPSIS. HoucE CLEEYF. has lost the Jut remnant AFhis fortune byaslumpin mining shares. Having led a life of luxury and ease he is not prepared to face poverty. He there- fore accepts willingly enough the preffered hand of hia rich cousin, Lavinia Cuthrtgm, who has long been vainly ia love with him. Cleeve is resHy ia lore with Stella, a beautiful girl who returns his affection. He bu, however, to break to ber the news of his fina.ncia.1 ruia and approaching marriage' Then he leaves her— beutbroken. After the marriage Lavinia quieklv finds that th love is all ea her side. Horace re uses to accept anything from his wife heyoncl board and lodging and the barest necessaries. He obtains amploynaent as a c'erk in tha office ef a friend in the Citj at a small wage. Returning home ene night be sees a woman rescued from the river. Impelled by something more than curiesity, he pushes through the crowd which has gathered, and sees that the woman is Stella. She attempted to commit suicide, they tell him. Filled with remorse, Horace is waiting at the poliee-court, when she is charged, but he can get no opportunity of speech with her. She is discharged, ani failure i* the result of all his efforts to trace her. Then one night he reaches home to find her installed ia bis wife's bouse. CHAPTER V. A POLICY OF SILENCE. Neither of them knew how long they stood there, facing each other in silence. It seemed one second. It seemed an eternity. At last Horace spoke, his voice hoarse and shaking: "How did you come here?" And her answer came slowly, painfully— "I did not know that you lived here. I came to be your wife's companion. I did not know you were married. I must go away— at once Stella-—! » Don't call me by that name—never again "Don't, don't speak to me like that," he pleaded, and unconsciously her face softened. "How you must have suffered before you did that awful thing "How did you know?" she asked, quickly. "My name was not put in the papers, they said." No, it was not. But I happened to be close by when—when it happened. And I was in court next daf to see if I could do any- thing. Don't think me quite heartless, Stella!" This time she let his use of her Christian name pass without noticing it. "I never thought you heartless," she said softly. "Then why did you not tell me?" he cried passionately. "Whatever straits you were in—whatever your trouble—surely I could have done something to help?" "You do not know a woman's heart, I think," she said, with a sad smile, "or you would never think it possible that I could have applied to you for help after what had passed." He ground his teeth in his rage at himself, but said only, "What was it drove you to it?" "Only the old story-no work—no means of getting any, and finally, no money. I literally did not know where to turn. Yet I ought rather to have gone to the workhouse. Don't let us speak of it. I shall never do such a thing again, you may be sure, even if I die of hunger." "Stella, you don't know how you torture me To think of my living in luxury, and you—that I would have given my life for— in actual want!" She shook her head, her lips still wearing that sad smile, but she did not dream of re- minding him how different his actions had been from these protestations. She only said quietly, "I'm afraid I must ask you to lend me a little money, for I must go now at once, and I have not a shilling in the world. I cannot go back to the Home, for I know that my place there is filled." 3fou have not told me yet how you came here," he said, trying to postpone the Element when he must tell her that he also was penniless, or next to it. "Lady Adelaide, the lady who befriended me, came to the Home to-day, and told me that she had found a situation for me as companion to a married lady without child- ren, whose husband was in the City all day. Sh-o impressed upon me that if I failed to keep this situation, she could not get me another. After promising to send her brougham for me to take me to my new home, she left me, quite forgetting to tell me the name of the lady who was to be my employer. I have only seen her for a few momenta. I never dreamt that you could be her husband. But you must see that. X can- not stay here. I must leave the house at once." "You can't, Stella. Come what may, I shall not let you go without some definite plan, and a proper supply of money. I have nene- curse it!-or hardly any. And we can't ask her for money. We must wait and eee." "But I tell you I must go! I must go to- night!" she cried wildly. "Hush For God's sake be quiet!" he said hoarsely. "She may come down at any moment. The servants may hear you. Do you want to ruin me?" "But I tell you I must go!" "Not to-night. You mustn't think of such a thing 1 To-morrow we will see. I can raise a little money." "Oh, Horace, let me go! I can't live here I You must let me go "So I will, dearest. We will arrange to- morrow what is best to do—what excuse can be made. But for botli our sakee, for the eake of decency, stop here to-night!" He hurried away, and she sank into a chair, trembling from head to foot. She knew she was refusing the cup of happiness, fer it would be happiness to live under the roof that sheltered him, happiness unspeak- able to lie down at night, knowing that she would see him in the morning, happiness to hear his voice, even if he never spoke a word to her. And all this she had been willing to give up, because she knew it was right. But she had taxed her nature to its limit. Sue sat in silence for some minutes, her agitation passed away, leaving her numb and cold. Her feeling seemed to be dead. She cared no longer what became of her. Suddenly the electric light lit up the room, and she found her employer standing over her, looking down into her face with a smile. She was just able to smile back in response. "I fear we shall have to go in to dinner without my husband," said Mrs. Cleeve. "He is very seldom so late as this. Oh, here he is Horace, come here. What has made you so late? But never mind. I have a sur- prise for you. This young lady is going to make her home with us for a time—I hope you have no objection My husband, Miss Silvester." Horace looked from one to the other- looked surprise, smiled, and bowed in silence. Then he went up to Stella and offered her his hand. "I hope you will be very happy with us," he said pleasantly. "And I hope the arrange- ment will make life a deal pleasanter for you, my dear," he added to his wife. "I have often thought you must be lonely when I am in the City." Stella's guardian angel whispered- "Speak!" Her conscience pressed her cruelly—"At any cost to yourself or him, tell the truth What! Tell this grave-faced, precise woman that this man, her husband, had been her loter, and had deserted her in order to marry a banking account! How dare she ruin these two lives? How dare she risk bringing about a separation between husband and wife, and plunging Horace in a sea of troubles from which he might never be rescued? No; he was right. She must stay for a time, for the night at all events, and then some natural-sounding excuse must be found for her leaving. Horace was right. That must be the way. So she took Horace's offered hand in silence, looking at him with the quiet, modest smile of a stranger, as he spoke those plea- sant-sounding, hypocritical words of welcome. Never, now, could the truth be told. The policy of silence had prevailed. < < « So little are we poor blind children of the dust able to foresee the future that we cannot even foretell our own mental states and moods from day to day, or even from hour to hour. And so Stella found it whea she awoke next morning. Half the night she had lain awake, torn be- tween the fierce desire to escape from the house and the longing to remain near the man she loved. And then, when the dawn was breaking, she fell asleep, mentally worn out. She woke with a numb, helpless feeling that it did not very much matter what she did, or in what fashion events shaped them- selves. She had not made the situation. It was quite unwittingly that she had come to live in that house. Let the future take care of itself. That was her mood. Even her next meeting with Horace did nothing to change it. He was late for break- fast, and scarcely had time to exchange a few words with his wife before it was time for him to start for the City. She felt relieved, in a dull sort of way, when she heard the street door close behind him. The morning went by pleasantly enough. Lavinia was delighted with her new friend, and took great pleasure in showing her the house and all her household treasures. That took up the time till luncheon, and after lunch they went out driving together. To her own surprise Stella found herself able to meet Horace when he came home in the even- ing with a conventional smile and a remark about the weather. Hie relief at her attitude was unbounded. He had been anticipating some wild out- kurat on her part, to be followed by a atormy scene between Lavinia and himself. It was delightful to realise that there would be nothing of the kind. And yet—such is the deep egotism of the human heart—he was conscious of a certain disappointment— a subtle dissatisfaction that the girl should have been able to put the past behind her and speak to him as she would have spoken to a stranger. But it was so evidently the beet and simplest solution of the difficulty, that he followed her lead. He avoided meeting her alone, and when that did happen he did not come near her, or allow a word to escape him that his wife might not have heard. But even so, the house was infinitely more attractive than it had been before Stella's advent, and he began to give up those occa- sional dinners at the club, which had for some time been his chief recreation. And then, little by little, the inevitable came upon them. Horace, for all his good resolutions, for all his keen sense of grati- tude to the woman who had saved him from the abyss, began to feel once more the glamour of Stella's eyes. Unconsciously he began to contrive ways of stealing a few minutes of private talk with her every day. He knew that his tone, his smile, altered when his wife came into the room. And hie wife—what of her? She was only conscious of this—that it was with an effort, an even greater effort than formerly, that Horace kept up a decent pretence of conjugal affection. She under- stood it only too well. He would have liked to give her more affection, but he could not. It had not occurred to her to contrast her- self with the brilliantly beautiful woman whom she had taken to live with her. Like most good women, she assumed that the man she loved and trusted was incapable of wronging her, even for a moment, even in thought. It never occurred to her to think what it must be to him to transfer his gaze, a hun- dred times a night, from her withered face to the shining youthful beauty of the girl at her side. She knew that her skin was sallow, that her hair was rapidly falling out, that her figure had long since lost every appearance of roundness -but it never en- tered her mind that hr husband would notice these things, or would pay any atten- tion to them if he did notice them. She knew that to some men it would be a temptation to have such a contrast as Stella and she perpetually before their eyes but she did not class her husband with such men. She believed in him, and because she believed in him, she believed him superior to the ordinary weaknesses of male humanity. She had no conception what the man was suffering. Sometimes he endured tortures. A hundred times a. day he cursed himself for his cowardice in not venturing every- thing for love. Stella and be, with the world before them! Could any bliss be greater? What mattered it if they had not & crust to eat, so long as they had each other? Oh, what a fool, what a cowardly fool, he had been, to throw away the sub- stance of happiness and grasp at its Bhadow Like many other men, Horace considered that so long as he kept his words and actions in decent control, he did very well—his imagination was a realm he could preserve as his own, and wander over at will. The result of this delusion was—what one would have expected. He fell deeper and deeper in love with Stella every day—or rather, his old paesion returned a thousand times stronger than it had been before. Of course it was torture—nothing else. Of course it would have been infinitely wiser if he had made some excuse for leaving the house, seeing that he could not provide another home for Stella. But the truth was that he loved the girl so that the very pain was sweet to him. And all this without a word that -his wife would have thought un- usual, much less objectionable, if she had overheard it. It was enough for him to feast his eyes silently on Stella's lovely face, to drink in with his ears the honey of her words. What music was like her laughter? What pleasure could equal the delight of touching her hand at morning and at night? Ho knew that as soon as he betrajed himself all this must have an end, and so he learneu caution and played his part cunningly. It was of no use for conscience to tell him that already in heart he was unfaithful. He was past listening to his conscience now. Of course it was impossible that this state of things could go on for ever. The end must come; and it came with the suddenness of a thunderbolt. CHAPTER VI. ONLY A CUP OF COFFEB, It happened in this way. Lavinia had a bad cold, with a touch of influenza, but she could not endure the dull seclusion of her own room, and after din- ner she had come down to the drawing-room and was sitting well wrapped up in a low chair beside the fire. Her husband and Stella, after seeing to her comfort, had sat down to a game of chess at a little distance. Half an hour, perhaps, had gone by, with- out any one breaking the silence. Lavinia was drowsy, and seeing her sitting with closed eyes, the other two had taken care not to disturb her. Stella was a good chess-player, and took a keen interest in the game. She had made a. doubtful move, and was studying the posi- tion carefully. "Take your time," said Horace, in a low tone, "don't move in a hurry." Perhaps for the very reason that he spoke almost in a whisper, his voice roused his wife. She suddenly opened her eyes and looked at the other two. Stella's eyes were glued to the chessboard, and from his attitude one might have sup- posed that Horace also was absorbed in studying the pieces on the board. But with- out moving his head he had allowed his eyes to leave the board and rest on the fair face opposite him. Stella, as he saw, was quite unconscious of his scrutiny, and this em- boldened him to gaze his fill. And Lavinia, sitting there motionless, saw it all. She saw her husband's face relax; and a look of yearning come into it. She saw his eyes feeding hungrily, now on this feature, now on that, till for pure pain she herself was forced to close her eyes. The pain went through and through her. A physical pang struck her heart, as though a knife had been thrust into it. It was only with an effort that she prevented herself from moan- ing aloud. At thaoment she blamed no one, she was only conscious of this, that she had lost her husband's love. He loved another woman—this fair girl whom she had shel- tered and petted as if she had been a child of her own. Again she opened her eyes. She could not help it, though she knew it would only in- crease her anguish to look again. The girl was still studying the game. Horace was still covertly gazing, hungrily and yet ten- derly, on her face. Suddenly Stella looked up, opening her lips as if about to speak; but what she saw in her companion's face froze the words on her lips. A quick blush spread over face and neck she trembled and fell back in her chair. Horace on tho instant changed his position, and moving one of the pieces, said "Check At that moment the door opened, and Vir- ginie, Lavinia's maid, came in to say that all was ready upstairs if her mistress cared to go up. Her husband and Stella, glancing towards her, saw her open her eyes, and naturally supposed that the entrance of Vir- ginie had awakened her. "You should have waited till I rang for you," she said, fretfully. "Come back in a quarter of an hour." She was at that mo- ment incapable of facing the journey to her bedroom, but she was determined not to show any emotion. They, the guilty ones, must not know that she had discovered any- thing till she had resolved on some course of action. As yet she could not think; she could only suffer. Again silence fell upon the three when Vir- ginie had withdrawn—as for the game of chess, no one seemed to remember it any more. Without thinking what he was doing, Horace began putting away the pieces, in their box. Stella made some remark, but no one answered her. fi I am sorry I gave Virginie notice," said Lavinia, closing her eyes, wearily. "When did you do that? asked Horace, surprised. "Last week," she answered, and at the Bound of his voice she gave a little ehiver. Are you cold ?" he asked, with some con- cern, and, rising, he went over to her, and made aa though he would lay his band on her shoulder. "011, don't begin making a fuss about me; I'm not ill," she said, irritably, giving a little twist, so that hia outstretched hand was with- drawn, and he went back to his seat. "I can't say I'm sorry that you have given Virginie notice to leave," he said, playing idly with one of the chess pieces. "I say I ever liked the woman." I thought I could do without her. I thought I would save her wages," said his wife. Stella flushed a little. "I am sure I am more than willing to do what I can to supply her place," said she. Lavinia looked at her curiously for an in- atant, but turned away her eyes without speaking. "It is not for you to undertake men1. duties." said Horace in a low tone, speaking to Stella "What's that you say?" said his wife, iharply. "Wouldn't you be more comfortable to engage another maid? I am sure you can easily afford it. The amount of the wages cannot matter to you," he said, vPkhout answering her question. Lavinia was curious to know what he had said, but she did Hot again ask him to repeat his words. What endless opportunities would these two have of conversing together when she was not by "Please touch the bell," she said to her husband a few moments later. "I think I will go upstairs now. Yirgime did not answer the bell just at once, and when she came she brought with her a cup of coffee for Stella, who was in the habit of taking coffee before retiring. "Where is Robert?" asked Mrs. Cleeve. It was the footman's duty to bring up the coffee. "He has gone to bed with toothache, madaine, and cook asked me to bring up the coffee for mademoiselle as I was coming upstairs." She offered her arm to her mistress, who clung to it and leant on it heavily; and Stella came near to support her oiv the other side. "I shall do very well, thank you," said the invalid coldly; and Stella drew back, a little hurt at her tone. "Your coffee smells very nice," said the lady of the house, as she paused for an in- stant by the table on which Stella's cup was standing. "I wish, Virginie, you would make a cup for me." "Have this, dear Mrs. Cleeve," said Stella impuleively, "and I can have more made for me if I wani it." "Madame had better have some fresh coffee Made for her," said Virginie quickly. "Yes, I won't deprive you of yours, my dear," .said Mr Cleeve, resuming her course to the door, with feeble steps. Her husband went and opened it for her. He re- membered afterwards that she did not thank him, either by word or look. He closed the door when they had gone, and came back to the table by which Stella was standing. "I will ring and have some more coffee made," _he said, touching the bell as he spoke. But the cook sent a message to say that no more coffee had been ground, and that the fire was too low to roast more beans without some delay. "She had better have this," said Stella, laying her hand on the cup that had been brought for her. is so seldom that she has fancied anything lately. And it is quite hot still. I will take it up to her at once. How many lumps of sugar shall I put in? "Not sugar—saccharine," said Horace, with a smile. "Oh, to be sure How stupid of me to forget! (It was one of Lavinia's fancies that sugar did not ágree with her, and she was careful to use saccharine instead of it on all occasions.) "There is some in the break- fast-room, I think." And she left the room to get some. Sm* was gone perhaps two minutes. r, What are you doing with the coffee?" she said to Horace when she returned. He was kneeling in front of the fire with the coffee cup in his hand. "I was only putting it on the hearth to keep it warm," he said, carrying it to the table. "You are very flushed," she said, looking at him curiously. "Yes, I have been bending over the fire." Stella made no reply, and, without looking at him, she took the cup and went upstairs. Lavinia was alone when Stella entered her room. Virginie and the cook were discuss- ing the possibility of having fresh coffee made at that hour of the night. Stella did not mention that the cup of coffee she had in her hand was the one that had been declined a little while before. That, she thought, would most likely make the invalid, who was evidently in a fretful mood, refuse it again. I have brought the coffee and the saccharine," ehe said, holding the little bottle of tabloids in her hand. "How many 6haIl-I put in 7 "One," said Mrs. Cleeve, without looking ap. "You are very slow," she Said crossly, & minute later. The cork—I mean, the stopper—was tight. I couldn't get it out," said the girl, colouring a little. Mrs. Cleeve had spoken to her exactly as if she had been a servant. The invalid took the coffee, drank half of it, and suddenly put the cup down. "Is that all you want? Shall I take it away?" asked Stella. "No, I may finish it afterwards. Leave it where it is," was the answer, and again Stella's face flushed. Her employer's tone was such as an ill-tempered mistress might use in addressing a careless or disobedient maid. She stood quite still, mastering her temper, for some seconds, and when she did speak it was in her usual gentle tone. "Can I do anything more for you?" "Nothing, thank you. Virginie will be here directly." "Good-night, then, dear Mrs. Cleeve. I hope you will feel better to-morrow." She went up to the invalid, meaning to kiss her, but Mrs. Cleeve seemed to have forgotten that it was their custom. She busied herself with re-arranging the coals in the grate, and said good-night over her shoulder, without turning round. "It can't be true! It can't be possible!" said the older woman to herself when she was left alone. "Yet once or twice lately I have thought She did not finish her sentence, even in her own mind, but, rlSolutely raising the cup to her lips, sipped slowly a little of the coffee that remained in it. I am sure it tastes very strangely! I am certain of it! Oh, the wretch I thought she was very long over the saccha- rine phial. There is more in it than saccharine Oh, what shall I do? What shall I do?" She covered her face with her hands, and rocked herself this way and that in her chair, trembling and meaning. "I! i were only sure, would send for Dr. Nicholls at once. But it is such a dreadful thing to accuse any one of!" Then she remembered what she had seen that very night, and the pangs of jealousy and unrequited love tortured her once more. Suddenly, in the midst of her agony, her quick ear caught a Bound in the corridor. She rose, took three steps, and with a swift motion turned the key in the lock. The next moment someone tried to open the door. "Madame," said Virginie's voice outside, "may I come in?" "Notajust now. I want to be alone. Come back in half an hour." "Cook says no more coffee can be had. She says "Go away, I tell you!" Without waiting to see whether she was obeyed, Mrs. Cleeve crossed the room, opened a medicine cupboard, aiM took out a clean phial. Into this she poured what coffee was left in the cup, and, after a little trouble, found a cork to fit it, and corked it down safely. Then she began to undress herself, and just before getting into bed she unlocked the door. For some minutes she lay still, and then the door was cautiously opened. "Are you asleep, dea.ret5t?" asked her husband. "Dearest!" the poor woman repeated to herself in the bitterness of her soul. She made no answer, and when her husband tip- toed across the room and kissed her softly she made no movement. She let him think she was asleep, and he left the room as quietly as he had entered it. But when Virginie came a quarter of an hour later, she found her mistress sitting up in bed, drawn together with pain. "Send someone for Dr. Nicholls at once, Virginie," she said, in a voice that was won- derfully clear and composed. "I am very ill. I fed deadly sick. Why do you stand staring at me? Ring the bell, and send someone for the doctor—any doctor. Ob, what pain I can scarcely bear it!" Virginie sprang to the bell and rang it violently, and in five minuteeJ time the whole household was in an uproar. The. doctor came quickly, and rushed! back to his sur- gery for drugs. His medicine gave her some relief, but when the paroxysm of sickness was past, when her husband, looking bewildered and anxious, had gone bacIr to his dressing- room, where he was sleeping that night, when tlie gas was turned down, and Virginie settled herself in an easy chair to watch through the night, the unhappy woman was racking her brains with the questIon-Is he her accomplice ? She feared it must be so. She doubted whether the girl had the nerve, the resolution, to do a thing of that kind by herself. And her hand slid beneath her pillow till her fingers closed upon some- thing hard and round—a medicine bottle, filled with a dark brown fluid., 1i,rcr gripped it convulsi^y another attack coming on. The deadly nausea was overpowering her once more. (To be Continued.)

The spider that once urged King Bruoe To get up and to hustle, Would hardly do, it's sad but true, In these swift days of bustle. Wo cannot try and try again Each nostrum with it's lure; To one wo stick—it does tho triok- It's Woods' Great Peppermint Cure. Canon Rawnsley, speaking in connexion with the annual gatherings of Carlisle teachers, held on Saturday, deplored the fact that children were being turned out "to pattern." Ho asked the teachers to "put cram upon the shelves," I

4kW on, Never forget Vim when ordering household supplies. There are so many ways in which it is useful, .<} FOR CLEANIN8 BRASS. 7 FOR SCRBBBIN8 FLOORS. FOR OAS COOKERS. FOR GLASSWARE. Packed In handy tin canisters with p sifting tops, Vim keeps crisp dry, and nevetf w88t6S« U —i