THE NOVELIST.

Otago Witness, Issue 1588, 29 April 1882, Page 25

THE NOVELIST.

> '_i — 4_; By E. Hudson.

Author of 'Broken Fetters, 1 'TheGoldie3 of Golden' Terrace,' ' Tho Hoir of Thorwell Manor,' &c. i i - ; (Specially mitten for the Witness.) 1 ■ Chapter XV.

1 ' i •' Skilled in no othor arts was she, (■( ■ Bnfe rtrcssinjr, patching/ repartee ; Ami Just aa hymour rose or fell, ny turns a mattern, or a belle. -Goldsmith. UtfMA, 1 said Amy' Eston, entering her mother's, room next morning ; 'look here} Mr Hencke left this an houij ago, as he passed onhis way to.the bank ; but that stupid 'Melia has only just brought it.Up. I r .• , ! , And she held out an ©pen , „, w letter to her mother, .who} I intt) tatter,ed old silk dress, her hair bundled m 7 under a 'dusky., black, ,cap,. adorned .with a ..soraggybunch'jJf artificial flowers, sat in her ■ bedroom,, bi^iljtl m.aking up, a. new .dress, for i Amy. Sad, | Mjb Henck,e seen that young lady herself this morning. lie had hardly recognised her forbis tastefully-dressed • companion of the evening before.' Amy was a .blonde, to, her .great, felicity— for blonde beauties were -the rrage f, in Mejbourn.e just then— and Amy was a ;, beauty, ,as ,you*.; pould see, even now, though , horhftir wfrs in variegated curl-papers, and her i faqe looked as, if it wanted the ' sleep ' washed off. -.He? dress, <was .a sojled and torn print wrapper, short enough to 'show a pair of ,v,ery .down-trodden and s miserable-looking slippers; ,As for her stockings'— but w,e will not push the .investigation 'Tis well not, to be curioufc over much. Mrs- Estpn topk the* letter,, and read it deliberately. fi . • 'Dear me!'. she cried, 'howcros.s thmg 8 do go in this world. ; I had made up my mind, that you should get young Caryllj and Bob take Mary Smith. They are both rich, and . you are both poor. It would have donebeauT „tifully.' | ', • i ,' Mary Jane knew better than to look ap , Bob when 'she had the chance of a catch like . Gus Caryll,' retorted' Amy. * I wish her joy of her bargain. / would not have had hiin^at any price. But what >am I to do about • this? 1 , . • 1 ■ * D,o ?, ,Why, answer it in the affirmative at onqe, of course.' „ . ! „ .''lt's not particularly gushing,' remarked Amy, rather discontentedly. „ 'It is, at any rate, a clear offer of marriage.' was the report,,' and the first you have, had, • top, for ; all. your,, beaux. I, .hoped that, with your face, you might have done better than a ,. j bank cleric; but I see he says he expects, to be made manager ins a. short time. On the whole, -, h.e }s not a bad catch. There— go and answer the Jetter at once, ; or stop, you will be all day .over it — I'lj -do it; and do you go and dress <■ ready to take it to the post. Dear me, it will hot , pc all profit ; goodness knows where your tr iusseau is to come from.' Amy looked alarmed. ' I must have, one,' sb,e said. „, ' Of course.you must,. child : people shall not ,h&v&< to talk, on that, score. But I don't know „(h owever I ehVU .manage it.' . „" Wouldn't Bob help?' , { , , ."h'Bob help!', .pried Mrs Eston, 'when you , know, he,,^ always .borrovying from, me. I ..doio^know whatbecomes of his, salary.'. | , "*,Hto,dijnks some of it,! suggested Amy. • ! „ , * Tin afraid so,' sig&eq the mother. ,' J J gpoke' fcp.fh'iiQ tl?e,oth.er, day, and what do you „^hiqk .said? th.^t it was I who, taught him- , „t6,,d,rink M ,"I wish-xJ wish fcljat I had not,? con- . tinued Mrs , Eston, s.orpowfully. / His father's „ fate might ,liaye warned me. lam afraid that r Bob will be like him.' , , f Amy spoke a- few, words, of consolation, but always self-engrossed, she was just now moi;e ao than ever, and soon brought her . mother's .thoughts back ,to the matter in hand by inquiring what was to be done. , • , „ i ' There is only one way that I see,' said.Mrs Eston, wiping her eyes, and, mother-like, putting {\side her own trouble. , „ * And, that?? , , ; " 'Is to get the things, and have the bill sent jn aftar you aromarned.' , J I don't lil?e to dp jt ? ' said Amy, after thinking a moment. , ' What has liking to do with it ?' replied her x , m,Qtljpr, imp^tientjly. •' 1^ there any other way?' • CoiU4 I UQt 4° with just the one dress ?' guggested Amy. ' One dress !' almost shrieked Mrs Eston ; * and you with nob half a dozen of any single article, and none of them new. Is the girl grazy f 'jWell,' said Amy,, preparing, to leave the , room j ' I see thoro is no help for it. I must ( ' just manage Mv Hencke as bost I can ; but ' , I hope people \yill neyer know. , How they " nroi»W talk.' f Tpljat, me, \ replied hep mo. tljer. by,? ad4ed Amy, pausing at the „., door, ' who made my bed y^terday ?' ,', ' 'Molia did j I .was so driven, I had to leave |t to her. Why?!,'

1 She forgot the sheets, and spread them on top of the counterpane.' ' Dear, dear ; there is no trusting her to do a single thing. I'll see to it myself in future.' And Anvy departed, to reappear at tho end of two hours, looking— in her crisp, frosn niuslin, shady hat, and sunny curls— slightly different. 'There is the letter,' said her mother; 'you need not take the trouble to copy it, we write exactly aliko.' ' Poor Fitz !' Amy ran her eyo over it. ' You havo asked him to dinner, I sec' ' ' Yes, ,and 1 must go and see abput it at onco. Goodness knows when I shall get this dress finished,', she sighed, as Amy sauntered oft with the letter. Mrs Bston was a widow,, with a very limited income, and two children. Her husband- had died when they were quite young. On his way home from a Masonic banquet, which had resolved itself into a convivial meeting, he had fallen and cut his head. The wound, though Revere, would not have been- dangerous to a' temperate man ; but Mr Eston was, not a temperate man, and he died, leaving his family, almost unprovided for. The Masons raised a, subscription for them— steady, industrious men < being taxed to fujfil his neglected duty. Mrs. Eston deyoted herself to her children. Everyone,.said what a good mother she was, and how strange, she should, have such a scapegrace son. They resided in the middle house of a long terrace — , inconvenient, uncomfortable, btre fashionable ; and fashion was the mploch at, whose shrine Mrs Eston sacrificed comfort and happiness with a determination ' worthy o£ a better cause.' They kept but, one servant, a hare-brained young lady of fifteen, who would have been a very paragon of a ' help ' had she but displayed one half the ingenuity in doing things m a right way which she, displayed in doing them in a wrong. But Mrs Eston managed to supply her deficencies. She knew of no better way of proving her love for her children .than by starving every day— and- all daylong— that she might bo able to sayo v and lend he,r, son small sums from time to time, and that 'Amy might be free to do fancy work, dress, visit, and flirt, ever keeping in sight, of course, the main object— a good marriage. How she supposed Amy was to manage whon J she was head of her own house, I don't know. • . !

Chapter XVI. Was eve* match clapped up so suddenly !

—Taming of the Shrew.

Mrs Allon. ' reclining on a lounge in her shady drawing-room, was taking her afternoon cup of tea. A delicate,chop lay on her plate^ — the vegetarian era was long since over, and her latest fancy was to have meat served up vyith every meal, so very much underdone thaty as'the 'cook declared,' ' a' canningbul would turn 'up his nose at' it.' She was making a hearty meal, and 'appearing to derive a tolerable amount of comfort from the same, when' the door" opened and Kenneth walked in. Instantly, an, injured, suffering expression,, ovor> "spre'aa her countenance. Pushing away 1 tray, as* if the 1 very' sight of the food 'disgusted her, she exclaimed, '' '\{ '' 'So 'you are back at last. It's a 'mercy you find me aliye' to receive you. ' What I've gone through alone this' last month,' while, you've 'been enjoying yourself at St. Kilda, ho onp 'knows.'"' , _ , ( ' , » 1 Mr Allb'rt hardly appeared as if the last month had been one of pleasure to him. This .lines on his forehead were deeper, arid his, face ' wore an anxious, weary look, ' ' ' 'Have' you been worse than usual, mother ?' he, inquired, helping himself to a, chair and a cup of tea 1 . No caress passed between them. Kenneth could not remember the'time when his mother had kissed him';, in' their childhood itwa's always Francis 'who had obtained the p'ettihg. 1 . '"\ 1 Worse than usual,' repeated Mrs Allori, peevishly. I had not need to be that. I'm quite convinced that my heart is affected, T>x Emdy says it may be, but he could "not undertake to'say positively at present ; meanwhile, I'm to take as much strengthening food as possible. He has ordered me port wine, so, Kenneth, you must get some in. ' ' It is my opinion that Emdy is a confoundoji quack.' >t f ' A quack !' cried Mrs Allon, indignantly. 'Why, he is the most fashionable ' (and, site might have added, 1 the most expensive) ' doctor in Victoria, and understands my constitution perfectly. A quack indeed !' . ' Well, mother, we won't discuss his merits just now. ' What news' have you? How is everybody getting on this hot weather? How does Mrs Smith take her husband's elevation ?'

' Oh ! you have heard of it, then ?' ' Saw it in the papers.', The .V squattocracy;" could not have chom a better riian to' represent them,: not much ' of a speaker, perhaps, but honest, shrewd,' and long-headed.' * 'Fancy the Honourable William Smith,, though ; arid ho began life as a ploughboy, she as a housemaid. They boast of that now.' ' 'More to their -credit 'than if they were ashamed of it.' ' *

' Mrs Smith is in high feather now,' continued Mrs Allon, ignoring her son's observation. What with that, ' and Mary Jane's engagement, she can hardly contain herself fbr pride. 1 ' To whom is Mary Jane engaged ?' 'To that addle-headed coxcomb, young Caryll. Didn't you< know that ? Then I suppose you have not heard', either, that Fritz Hencke has made a fool of himself at last. He was married' yesterday. My goodness, Kenneth 1 it's evident <you<, have no nerves ; one of the best set, too. Is the tea on the carpet?' ■'< '* ' . ' There is no harm done, the cup was empty,' replied Kenneth,' picking up the pieces with an unsteady hand. ' What took Fritz to be 1 in such a hurry ?' ■ 'As if I knew ! • He was probably determined to' have' abundant leisure to repont, Mrs Hencke is in a' fine way ; she detests' the Estons.'

'The Estons! What have they to do with it?!

' As much as anybody, I suppose, seeing that Fritz has married Amy.' ' "Married Amy Eston,' repeated Mr Allon, bewildered.

' Certainly, I do believe,' continued the lady, lo king keenly at her son, ' that you aro on the same wrong tack as Mrs Hencko was. She let out that she had hoped that Fritz would take a fancy to Lia Smith. The idea ! A girl who does not even know who her father is ; and, if she did, has probably no legal claim upon him. 1

•Mother!'

Mrs Allon fairly quailed ; never had Kenneth's eyes blazed with such an angry light, never had his voice taken such a tone to her before.

'You did not see as much of Australia's mother as I did,' he said, controlling himself^ 'or you never would have made such an insinuation. But even if it were all true, it would not in, the least affect Australia.. She is a girl whom any man,, might be proud to woo and win.' ' ' f One would think,' retorted Mrs Allon, with as much sarcasm in her voice as she. dared

show, ' that you intended to woo her your- ! ' And so I do,' was the quiet reply ; 'and to make her my wife, if she will do mo the honour to accept me.' And then the storm broke forth ! Mrs Al-, lon's object in life— next to her own healthhad been the keeping Kenneth single, and herself the supreme mistress of his house. A daughter-in-law was by all moans to be avoided if only for ono reason ; women are so much moro sharp sighted than, men. Hitherto, none 'having attracted him, Mra AUon fancied herself successful, and now to find 'out her mis- ; take, just as sho had begun to believe that all danger of his ever marrying was over ! Remonstrance and reproach were showered down ( vehemently ; all the more vehemently that she felt their utter uselessness. ,' Kenneth had 1 ' made up his mind, and the thing was as good. ,as accomplished. Had Mrs Allon been, his, [ wife, and he proposing to bring her home a companion d la Mormon, she j could not have ' gone on worser,' as the listening servants expressed it; for Mrs" Allon acted like ' the .generality of angry women, tho angrier she ; became the higher she raised her voice. .The i scone was sufficiently .unsoemly ; but Kenneth, jwho had quite expected it, kept his temper perfectly. At length the shrieks merged into hysterics, and Mr Allon quitted the room, sending in the ' I young lady who acted as companion, and as a convenient vent for all her mistress's illhumours. She was the third in succession i from poor Jane Mann. ' Used as Kenneth was ! l,to his, mother, this scene had disturbed and , grievecL him deeply. He had been longing for sympathy, and felt the rebuff keenly. Mr Allon was not naturally ' the reserved, selfcontained man he appeared to those around hini Without wife or child, with no close friend, and such a mother, ho had been thrown ,back upon himself ; and had boon in danger of growing cold and hard — but all that would be changed now. He started at once for Yarra House— he would be good for nothing until hia j fate was decided ; and an unsettled state bf mind was, if possible, to be avoided this intolerably hot weather. Kenneth, however, was scarcely conscious of tho temperature as he walked the hot and dusty streets with his usual rapid, purposeful step. His mind was busy ; Australia had evidently refused Fritz Hencko ; was it-rcould it be because she cared for him '( He had dared to hope so once, was .that hope about to be realised ? Oh, how different his future wouldbe ; Kenneth lost himself in the bright anticipation. But—' He saddened, all he magicdied offat once from bower and hall,' .when, upon reaching his destination, he 'learnt her gone, and far from home.' In plain prose, they had started that morning for Emu Flat, r accompamed byMrsHoncke and Gertrude, who were on their way to Lai Lai Station, about one hundred miles further iip the country, and the home of Mrs Iresby, nte Margaret Hencko. ,Of course, ,Mr Allon decided to follow them. He would go by train as far as it .would take him, and ride the remainder of the distance, guiding himself by a, compass. , !

Chapter' XVII. ' ' \ Far, far away from the busy city, ■■ '-' ' . j Far, far from the crowded street ; i From the dust, and the dinj and tho bustle, . And.t.ho sound of- hurrying feet. , ( Past'hedges, »nd viJlas, and gardens, Past haystack, and homestead, and bush, Past settlement, village, and township", ■ Each wrappedin a sleepier hush.. ' ■To the heart of the distant ranges, • , To a valley so lovely and fair, As though ib could nevLr be da. kened By the shadow of sorrow or care. , Heliotrope. ,

It wad -an early train, and Kenneth started before sunrise, leaving a kind npte of explanation for his mother, who, he .knew by experience, would have one of her ' nervous attacks, 1 and not be visible for the ,next three or four days. - The morning was glorious, and Kenneth gave himself up to the enjoyment of, the moment j when he did go in- for pleasure he did the thing thoroughly.. Oh, the delight of escaping from the,. dusty,, stifling city ! The intoxicating delight of. careering across open country ! — a fresh, cool breeze, laden with the scent of countless flowers rushing through the i open carriage windows ; past white- verandahed villas, embosomed in' trees of every shade, from the lightest to the darkest green ; past the river, flowing on with such joyous eagerness to , ,the city, which it would leave so much less pure I than v/hen it entered, fit type of, many a human life ! Away to the cool_, green forest, and the distant purple hills, while .overhead the deep, ] blue sky was flushed with clouds of rose colour and gold, heralds of the rising" sun— and the air waiS filled with the morning songs of birds. At length Mr Allon found himself a$ the small township, beyond which the railway did not, at that time, extend. Here he stayed a night, starting early next morning, splendidly, mounted, and with his knapsack well-stored, in case he failed to reach Emu Flat that night. It was a fearfully hot day ; what little wind there was scorched like the blast of a furnace] and the fine, brown dust which ' it raised choked and blinded both the horse and, his rider. .But, by degrees, this description of country was left .behind, and. towards evening Mr Allon reached the confines of a forest whose shade and coolness he found himself fully able to appreciate. Here he drew rein by a chain of ponds, which in winter would be^ a respectable stream, and took some refreshment and an hour's rest. .Then, remounting, he plunged into the forest. For, sonie.jhours he pursued his way without difficulty ; as the daylight faded, the full moon threw broad patches of light betweerjthe openings, enabling ' Kenneth to consult, his compass from time to time, so that he was sure of his road. Towards midnight, as he was beginning, to expect the ter r minatipn of the forest, a sound of many voices broke, upon his startled ear. Mr, Allon drew •rein j'f'rom the distance he could not determine whether the voices were those , of whites or blacks, so, dismounting, he cautiously led his horse in the direction of the sounds,— moved, no doubt, by a laudable desire to acquire useful information, though had it been the. act of a woman, I should have been qblige'd to con fess, by pure curiosity. Creeping quietly rip, Mr Alloir, from behind the trunk of a large blaekwood tree, surveyed the scene at his leisure. It was a corrobboree in full swing. In a small glade, or .clearing, blazed a fire— to scare the ' debbil-debbil '—and round it pranced about fifty blackfellows, flourishing waddies ( and boomerangs, and yelling in a manner calculated to make tho cockatoos hide their diminished heads. They were in ful^ eveningcostume, consisting— should any fasluonist be anxious on the subject— of paint and grease, and were evidently 'on the war-path/ The lubras and picanninies belonging to the party occupied a subordinate position in tho background, where, squatted on their haunches, they supplied the musical part of tho entertainment, by beating drums of kangaroo skin, with all their might and main. The scene was sufficiently diabolical to warrant Kenneth's withdrawing as quickly apd quietly as possible—a manoeuvre easily effected, under cover of the horrible din, had not his horse choson that critical moment to neigh in a remarkably demonstrative manner. Instantly the air was jjhiqk with '"flying spears, which, being thrown at Wdom, ', happily did no harm;, and, in another .moment Kenneth fotinq/utyiep ■seizedj

and dragged within the circle of light, his gun taken possession of by one, his horse by another, while half a dozen set to work to dissect his knapsack. The dancing and yelling were resumed with redoubled energy, but with this slight difference, viz., that IC«nneth was now the centre round which they revolved ; waddies were shaken viciously near his head, and boomerangs, poised, as if another instant would see them flying through the air on their deadly mission. Mr Allon gave himself up for lost, but oven in that awful moment, he could not, for tho life of him, help watching with a , sort of fascination, tho blackfollow who had possession of his rifle, and who was holding it as surely never loaded gun was held since guns were. His back was towards Kenneth, who, . however, felt that no protection, since the piece was as likely to go off in that'direction as ' in any other. Presently he made the discovery that the tagger would move, and pulled ft back with all his force. The result was a. report and a yell from the blacks, which threw their previous efforts ' in that direction into tho shade. When the hubbub subsided a , little, they discovered that one of thor number' was wounded, and burning to avenge him, turned with' renewed fury on Mr Allon, who, ,with a word of prayer, awaited the fate which in another instant would surely have overtaken, him ; when with a shout, and a torrent of words in the native tongue, a man dashed 1 into the circle and flung himself before Kenrieth. The effect was electrical : the yells ceased, and the deadly weapons were lowered submissively, j The stranger continued to harangue them 'energetically, being answered occasionally by a few humbly spoken words from the leader of the tribe. Kenneth meanwhile stood by, hardly able to realise his escape, and regarding the stranger with astonishment. Having at length overcome the last objection of the blacks,, his deliverer, turning to , Kenneth, said, ' You are safe. They will restore your horse and gun ; but as for the knapsack, better not press them, — you must leave it.' v ' And willingly,' exclaimed Mr Allon, grasping, his hand ; ' ten minutes ago I was looking death in the face. I owe my life, under God, to you this night.' ' Here is, your rifle,' interrupted the stranger, cutting short Kenneth's expressions of gratitude ; ' and you had bettor lead your horse till we get clear of the bush.' ' , Then turning, he addressed , a few parting words to the ' blacks, wlio were by this timo quite subdued. The one who had been Wounded ventured to beg to have his hurt .examined. The ball had passed through the Calf of the leg. Taking a box of ointment from his, pocket, tho stranger looked round for a bandage. , Comprehending what was wanted, tho patient limped up to his own particular gin, who "was resplendent in a magnificent red-and-white striped calico skirt ? upon which her I6rd and master laid his sacrilegious hands, relentlessly,abstracting a .breadth to bind up' his jhurt. , Poor thing! it was the one piece of finery— nol to' say dress— which she possessed ; yet, being .ignorant, alas ! of the rights 'of women, she submitted, to the spoliation— partly, perhaps, from "affeotion, and- partly from fear- seeing thSt> her f husband had his waddy convenient I' ' She tried", joining the sides together, but that made the skirt too. narrow, impossible , to walk , in ; % none but a fashionably-dressed- lady b'f ; 1877 could have accomplished the feat, So, on the principle of ' out of sight out of mind,' she twisted the torn ,part to the back, and heaving' a resigned sigh, ! oribe more' squatted down. ' By this time the stranger had finished his surgery, and bidding Mr Allon follow him, he immediately.led.the way,' walking rapidly, and 1 keeping, so far ahead as to be .out of conversational reach. Kenneth thought that rather strange, but, after what had passed, could not' distrust his guide -j whose voice, indeed, was a guarantee of his honesty. Singularly mellow arid 'deep, it had an' unmistak'eably genuine ripg of sincerity, and also a refined intonation which proved its owner to be a man of education. In the flickering light of the camp fire, an immense grey beard, and a pair 'of bright eyes whose expression he could not determine, , had been all of the stranger's face Mr AUon • had been able to -note. At length, after ah. hour's quick marching, they emerged from the forest, and Kenneth became aware of a change in the weather. Dense black clouds were drifting across the sky, obscuring moon and stars, and rendering the night intensely dark. ,The trees were beginning to sigh and groan with tlie rising wind'; hoarse thunder muttered ■in the distance, and the harmless and beautiful electricity which had been playing over the heavens' all night was giving place to the deadly forked lightning. In fact, there was every preparation for an Australian thunderstorm, and Mr Allon began to wish himself under shelter. He had confidently reckoned on fine weather, and reaching Emu Flat before night, and had encumbered himself with nothing, but his overcoat, which, it was consoling to reflect, would save some black fellow.fromia wet skin. As they cleared the bush, his guide waited for Kenneth to come upi. ' | ' Where are you bound for ?' he inquired. , ' Emu Flat.'" 'What, Smith's Station?' ' ] \ 'The same.' ' ; ' ' You will never reach it to-night; where are you going to camp ?' . ' Where I can, I suppose,' rejoined Kenneth, ' but though that is all very w.ejl in fine weather, I would just as soon have a roof over my head for an hour or two. Do you happen to know of a shepherd's hut hereabout ?' ■ By the light of a struggling moonbeam, Mr Allon could see that his guide seemed to be hesitating over some course of action, twice opening his lips to speak, and as of ten chocking himself. At length he said abrudtly, 1 Follow me,' and, turning.to' his left, rapidly skirted the forest for about six hundred yards, and then once more plunging into its gloomy depths, presently emerged into a small grassy gl£(,dp, in the midst of which stood a hut. ', {To be continued). Through his Corns, a poor postman of Sale Nearly " sacked . was for massing; the' mail : , ' But thulugh A'lcock's Corn Plaster h« can now wal^c Much faster than Perkins, Hie " Blower,'.' or Gale. Allcook's Corn Plasters arc tho best euro for, Corns ever discovered. Sold by all rlealcra'in ruciliciik'. Agents for this District— KeuiiJthorne, Proaser, & Co., Duiiedin. ! I RDK JoNGHS lIOIIT-BItOWN COD LIVKH Olli.— lTS UNKQUAIiLED EI'FIOACY IN CoNSUMPH IN.-Allen G. Ch»Uftwa\, fcq., Dißtrlcl Mod c-1 Otticor, Leomirstor tettlßes »!• fallow*, to the utu'a'ailded efficcy of this cel<'l>rai«cl Oil in the treatment of Consumption:— "Having for somo jours extensive y iwii pr dp Jonuh's Light-Brown (}od Uyor Oil, I Qs\ vi public aiid pHv»te practice, J havo no ivßiUMan jn KlaWfur that its effects nve vory Uv superior to those of -any other Cod Liver «••). Nearly four years binco, two cams of confirmed Consumption were pUuetJ un<Wr mv care. In both, thrt lu»'i,m were amass "t tubu»cular deposit, and evoiy voßiiblo t*ou>d to b«s heard In Phthisis Wai present Tho Mile remedy employed was \>r de Jonah's Liight-Grwn Cod Liver Oil ; ami *ow t o patient^ are strone and f I ; tho d Biased (-banromi) sounds ne«rljr iiiaudil'lo ; and in the one ca«e(male) hunting, fijhinp, M,d shooting nrn fieely ludulge-ii in. this patient expr B'in< tiicuself qulto capable of undenrylnK las much fatigue an any of his feilo^porismßn." Or ,de Joukli'h Uinht- Brown Cod Llvor OH is sold on.lyiin oaptmied imp ri*l h»l/-ptnts, pints, and qu»rts ; w(th hi« t-taiup and Blsrnaturo and tho signature bf ht« Hi>le cniiekueea on the capable and 'he label under wr pper. by »|( oh. miss . Solo Oonfllg'io 9, Aun«, Uorfurd, %M op.i 77, 8wwi, Lp»d«R. ; • , • „