A TALE OF, THE NQRTfl COUNTRY * IN THE TIME OF SILAS WIGHT ' Vt»r - . ■ ?* .

ytmaser ones c» Jitrwl np our wealth and repaired to Aunt DmI'b room to fMSt out' eye* upon it and compere our pood fortune. The women and the Up phis roiled up their sleeves and went to work with Atm*. Dm* preparing the dinner. The ftefct turkey and ihe chicken pie were made ready and put In the oven and tha potatoes and the onions and the winter squash were soon boUlnp tn

<«tfe*rs* *♦—Centlnoei. ••

I count this one of the treat ereots at my roach. But there was a greater

containing a large amount of money— PX.700 sras the sum, if I remember rlchtly. Be was a man who, being Justly snspldoos of the banka, bad withdrawn his money. Posters announced the loss and the offer of a reward. The Tillage was profoundly stirred by them. Searching parties went up the road adrrtng its dost and groping In its grass and briers for the great prise which was supposed to be lying thtte. It was aald. however, that the ques ‘

Tillage and of air the bills and valleys toward Ballybeen—a topic of old wires and gabbling husbands at the fireside for unnumbered years. By and by the fall term of school ended. Unde Peabody came down to get me the day before Christman, bad enjoyed my work and my life at the Backets', on the who*e, but I glad to be going borne again. My uncle was in high spirits sod there were many pacaagaa In "he sleigh. “A merry Christmas to ye both an' mey the Lord lore ye!" aald Mr. Backet as he bade us goodby. "Every day our thoughts will be going up the hills to your bouse.*' The bells rang merrily as we rted through the swamp in the bard “We're goln' to more." raid my uneje presently. “We've agreed to | out by the middle o’ May." “H"w does that happeef” I asked. *T settled with Grlmstuw and agreed to go. If It hadn’t 'a' been fur Wright and Baldwin we wouldn't 'a' gi cent They threatened to bid agi him a*, the sale. So he settled. We're goto' to have a new home. We've bought a hundred an' fifty acres from Abe Leonard Goln' to build a house in the spring. It win be nearer the ■emage.” Be playfully nudged my ribs with his dhow. “We've bad a little good luck. Bart.’ he went on. “I'll tell ye what It Is If you won’t say anything about it"

“Thnt'a apuadr Dude Peabody exclaimed with enthusiasm.' . AuBt Dee! took my hand In hers and so reared It thoughtfully for a moment

“Ton ain't goto' to have to

she said la a low We re goln’ to be

hie—ayes^ Ter unde thought we better cst. but I couldn't bear to go off so fur an' leave mother an* father an' sirtei Susan an' all the folks we loved la yin' here In the groand alone—I wart to lay down with 'em by an' by an’ wait for the sound o’ the pet—ayes!—mebbe IPO be for tboeF«nds o' years—ayes!"

To

astonishment rite clock

"Good Idee!" said Unde Peabody. So I took (he money out of their hands mud went In and gave It to the Silent Woman. That's your present from me," I ild. How can I forge t bow she held my arm against? h*r with that loving, familiar. rocking motion of a woman a ho is soothing a baby qt her breast and kissed my coat sleeve! She re-

Aklte the children were playing laany aunt's bedroom and Uncle Biram aad Unde Jabez acre palling sticks law corner while the other then sat Upped against the wall watctdng and making playful comments—all rave my Uncle

ua with the aid of the broomstick. In the midst of it Aunt Deel opened the front door and old Kate, the Silent Woman, entered. To my surprise, die wore a decent-looking dress of gray humeapun doth and a white cloud looped over her head and earn and tied around her neck and a good pair of

hoots.

“Merry Chris'i

struck twelve. Ifs merry Christmas!" said Unde Peabody as he Jumped to bis feet and began to sing of the little

Lord Jeans.

We Joined him while be stood beating time with bis right hand after the fashion of a singing master. “Off with yer boots, fricao!" he exdbimed when the. stanza was finishedTVe don't hare to set op aad watch like tha shepherds.". We drew our boots on the chair round with bands c 1 raped over the knee—bow famine- is the process, and yet 1 haven't seen it In more than half a century! 1 lighted a candle and scampered upstairs in my stocking feet. Unde Peabody following dose and slapping my thigh as if my pace were not fast enough for him. In the midst of our skylarking the candle tumbled to the floor and 1 had to go back to the stove and relight It. How good it seemed to be back the old room under the shingles! The beat of the stovepipe bad warmed its

sat down tn the chair which Unde Beebody bad placed for her at the stove side. Aunt Deel took the dood her head while Kate drew her tnlu —newly knitted of the best yam. Thqn

my aunt brought some s

shawl from the tree and laid them oa the lap of old Kate. What a silence fell upon us as we saw lean coursing down the cheeks of this lonely old women of the countryside—tears of doubtless, for God knows how long

it had been since the p

shared its kindness. I did not fall to observe bow dean her face and.hands' looked! She waa greatly changed. She took my hand as I went to her de and tenderly carvssed It- A t er smile came to her face than ever had seen upon It. The old stem look returned for a moment as she held one finger aloft in a gesture which only I and my Aunt Deel understood. We knew It signalized a peril and a mysTbat I should have to meet it. where up the hidden pathway, I

had no doubt whatever.

“Dinner's ready 1" exclaimed

cheerful voice of Aunt Deeh

Then what a stirring of chairs and feet si we sat down at the table. Old

Tfs been kind o’ lonesome here, said Uncle Peabody as be opened the window. T always let the wind come la to keep me company—l» gits so warm." “Ye can't look at yer stockin' yit,' said Aunt Deel when I came down stairs about eight o'clock, having slept through chore time. I remember it was the delicious aroma of frying ham

T dun no as it would matter much." i he continued, “but I doot want to do It ain't anybody's busi-

left us th'rty-elght hundred dollars. It was old Unde Bare Baynes o' Blnesbnrg. Died without a chick or child. Tour gnat and tnr slipped down to Potsdam as’ took the stag* an' went over an got the money. It was more money than I ever aee before -n my life. We pot It to the bank in fotsdam to keep It out o' GrtmshaWs hands. I wouldn't trust that man as fur as yon could throw a bull by the tan." It was a cold, dear night, and when w# reached home the new stove wee snapping with the beet in its firebox and the podding puffing to the pot and old Sbep dreaming in the rtlmwy corner. Aunt Deel gave roe a bug at the door. Shop barked and leaped to my shoulders. “Why. Bart! You're grow In' tike a weed—ain't yeT—ayes ye be." my snot said as she stood and looked fit me. “Bet right down here an' warm ye—ayes 1—Tve done all the chorea ayes!" How warm and comfortable wn« the dear old room with thoae beloved faces in It. I wonder If parodiee Itself can seem more pleasant to me. 1 bare had the best food this world can provide. In my tlnxt, but never anything that I ate with h keener rellgh thnn the pudding and milk and bread end butter and cbe*-.«c and pumpkin pie which Aunt Deel gave os tha- night Supper over. I wiped the dishes for my aunt while Uncle Peabody went out to feed and water the horse». Then we egt down In the genial warmth while I told the story of my life tn “the busy town." aa they called It What pride and attention they gave me then! My fine clothes and the story of bow I had come by them taxed my Ingenuity .-cuurwbet although not Improperly. 1 had to be careful not to let them know that 1 had been ashamed tof the bot-iemade anil. They eouiebow f>it the truth shoot It uod a little aileoce followed the story. Then Aunt Deel drew her chair near me touched my hale very gently and looked into my face without speal “Ayra I I know “ she said presently.

and who wouldn’t rise and shake off the cloak of slumber on a bright, cold winter morning with such provocation? ‘'This ain't no common Chrts'm I tell ye," Aunt Doe! went on. “Sants Claus won t git here short o' nooo I wouldn't wonder—ayes!" About eleven o’clock Unde Hiram and A not Elisa and their five children crrlved with loud and merry greet Then came other aunts and ua.l*a and too. With what noisy good cheer men entered the house after they had pot up their bones! I remet bow they laid their hard, heavy hands on my heed and shook It a little as they spoke of my -stretchln' up" or gave me a playful slap on the shoulder —an ancient tokcu of good will—the first form of the accoUde. I fancy. What Joyful good humor there was to

fnera to It. They ilut nu> homespun stuff down village. They uadi they, Bart?" ■re about that." I assured

1 repeated to too.

dow. leaned her shook with soho. The dusk had thickened. As I returned to mytseat by the stove I coold dimly see her form agtlnst the tight of the window. We it to silence for a little while. Then Unde Peabody rose and got a candle and lighted It at the hearth. 1 held the lantern while Unde Peabody fed the sheep and the two cows and milked—a slight chore these wln-

iei days.

■■You and I are to go off to bed party forty," be raid aa we were going back to the house. “Yer Aunt Deel wants to see Kate sled; and git her to talk H she can. ; “l dunno but shell swing back into this world ag'to." raid Uncle Peabody ' in we had gone np to our little n. T guess all she needs is to be ited like a human bein’. Yer Aunt •Dec! an' I couldn't git over tbtokln’ o’ what she done for yon that night in the ol' barn. So I took some o’ yer aunt’s good clothes to her an' a pair an' -jsked her to come to Cbris'mas. She lives to a little room over the blacksmith shop down to Butttrfldffis mUt r told her I'd come after her with the cutter hut she shook bei head. I knew she'd rather walk." He waa yawning as be spoke and soon we were both asleep under the

r the woes of s city if It could have been applied to their relief. They Mood thick r ound the stove warming themselves and tzu^,* off Us griddles and opening IU -oor* and surveying It Inside and out with much curiosity. “Mow for the Christmas tree," said Unde Peabody as he led the way Into our best room, where a fire was burning to the old Praoklto grate. T on. boys an' glria." What a wonderful sight waa Christ mu» tree—the first we bad had to our bouse- a fine spreading balsam loaded with preaents! Uncle Hiram Jomped Into the air and clapped hla feet together and shouted: “Hold roe. somebody, or Pll grab the hull tree pa' run away with It" Unci* Jabez hi Id one foot In both hands before him aod Joyfully hopped around the tree. Theae -dative* had brought their family gifts, antue day* before, to be buag on Its braacbes. The thing that caught my eye waa a Ug otlvif watch hanging by a long golden chain to one of the boughs. Uncle Peabody took It dewn and held II aloft by th‘ rha'.n. po that aoot- should miss the sight, say-

ing:

"Prom Santa Claus for Bart I" A murmur of admiration ran through the company which gathered e round tie as I held the treasure to my trembling bauds. This la for Bart, too," Unde PaSbody shouted aa he took down a bolt of soft blue doth and laid It Ir. my anna. “Now tberr’a soroHlto' tljit's Jeot about as slick as a kitten's car. Peri of It. It'a fur a suit c' clothes. Come all the way fro.i. Burlington. Now gri-ap there. You've got your load." I moved out of the war In a hurricane of merriment, it was hl« one greet day of pride am*, vanity. lie did not try to aiuceal Uarnk The other prex uta floated for a mocut to this Irresistible tide of laugh-

M "BEST' MONTH UNO VALUE FIXED

“From Santa Claus for Bartl” Kate rat by the aide of tuy sunt and an were all surprised at her good man-

ners.

Wc Jested and laughed and drank elder and reviewed the year's history and ate as only they may rat who have big bones nud muscles and tba vitality of oxen. I never taste the flavor of rage and currant Jelly or b?ar a hearty laugh without thinking of those holiday dinners to the old log boUke on Battteroad. That Christmas brought me nothing totter than those words, the memory of which Is one of the tallest towers In that long avenue of my past down »hlch I have been looking thoae many days. About all you can do for a boy, worth while. Is to give him somethin* good to remember. The day had turned dark. The temperature hod rtaen and the air was dank and chilly. The men began to bitch up their hones. Bo. one by one. the slelghlouds left us with cheery good-bys and a grinding of runners and a Jingling of bells Whan the lost had gone Unde Peabody end I went Into the bouse. Annt Deel rat by the stove, old Krte by the window looking out at the falling dusk. How still the house seemed I •There's one thing I forgot." I raid as 1 proudly took out of my wallet the six oue-dollar bills which I had earned by working Baturdays end handed three of them to my aunt aud three to my unde, raying: “That la my Christma* present to you. 1 earned It tuy salt" I remember so wall their astonishmen) and lto> trembling of their haixD and the look of their facea. “Iris grand—eyes I" Aunt Deri raid In a low tuna. She rose to a moment end beckoned to me end a.y uncle. We foilowe*. ber through the open door to the other

room.

“I'll tdl yo what Pd do." she whispered. “I'd give 'an to ol' Eato—

CHAPTER XII. ' The Thing and Other Things. I returned to Mr. Hacker's house late to the afternoon of New Year's day. The schoolmaster was lying on a big lounge tn a corner of their front room with the children about him. The ask was falling. “Welcome, tuy laddie buck!" he exclaimed m I entered. “We're telling stories o' the old year an' you're Just to time for the last o' them. Sit down, lad. and Cod give ye patience! Itll soon be over." After sv.pper be got out his boxing gloves and gave me a lesson to the art of self-de'cnsc. In which. I was soon tc learn, lie was highly accomplished, for we h id a few rounds together every day after that. ' He keenly enjoyed thh- form i f > zeroise and I soon began to. My cr.pedty for taking punishment without flinching grew apace and before long I got the knack of countering and that pleased him more even than my work in school. I have soroetlrrv.< thought. "God b'sss ye. boy!" tie exclolmi-d te day after I had landed heavily on bis cheek, “ye've a nice way o' sneakin' in with yer right. Pve a notion ye muy find it useful some day." I wondered a little why he should ray that, and while I was wondering be felled me with a stinging blow on my nose. “Ah, m.* lad—there's the best thing I have a> en ye do—get np an' come back with no mad In yc,” he raid as he gave me Ms hand. One day the school muster called the older boys to the front seats la bis room and I among them. “Now. larya. Pm going :o ask ye what ye w mt to do to the world." ' raid. "Don't be afraid to tell me what ye may n< .er have told before and 1 11 do what I ran to help ye." For some months I had been studying a book joat published, entitled, “Ftenugraphlc Sound-! land." and had learned Its alphabet nod practiced the nae of It. That evening I took down the remarks of Mr. Unrket In sound-

band.

The academy chapel was crowded with the older boy* and girts and the tcwnfolk. The master never dipped hla words to school as he was wont to do when talking familiarly u-lth the

"Since the leuve* fell our little village has occupied the center of the stage before an audience of millions In the great theater of cougrcra. Our leading citizen—tho chief actor—has been crowned with Immortal fame. We who watch lid the play were thrilled by tbe querv: Will Uncle Sam yield to temptation or rl'ng to honor? He has cfcosen the latter course and we may still bear tbe applause In distant galleries Iteyoud the iu-a. He has decided that the public revenues must be paid In honest money. “My friend nod cla**tuate, George Bancroft, the htotorl'-n. hs* written this letter to me out of a full heart. (TO BK CONTINUED.) Poor Widow Gives Mite. They uere only four sacks. Washed and pieced tog.-U.cr by imtlenf fingers aod then faslilnn.-d Into undcrgsrmeats. Around Mi* nivk of each was a crocheted edge made from the string with which the sacks had t>ecu eewed. A poorly dressed »> brought them Into the department of refuge rlothlng -.f the Ited Cross aa her “widow’s mite." Tt Isn’t much." she said, ns sh< did the bundle, “but tt is all ! had. and I hope It will be of um- to some Belgian woman who may have lees than 1 have.” Dunner uni Blltzen. Editor Chari.•« Ilauson Towns of New York looked Op fna.i a uew>ps|wr account of the magnificent American victories «D the Home. “Wonderful!" sold Mr. Towne. and bis eyes shone. "Our troop* ore light nlng trained, sod they Uu tui-nurring v«u r

Time of Birth Has Little to Do With Genius.

Depends Altogether on Power of Giving Wealth.

Statistics Show That Nature Practically Plays No Favorite* in Hoc Production of the Gifted Ones of the Earth. Astrologers believe that the planets Trignlag" at tbe time of birth goous throughout life, and that, from a literary point of view certain months are more favorable than others In which to be born. Taking thf hundred best British writers since tbe day o* Chaucer, no than forty-eight were born In tbe four month* February. Mav. August and November. In February were born Charles Dickens. Pepys the diarist, and Thomas Moore, while of more modern date and fame are George Meredith. Israel JUngwlll. Anthony Hope. Harrison Ainsworth and Wilkie Collins Pope and Addison were both born to May. as also were Browning. Rossetti, Moore, Bulwer Lytton, Thomas Hood, Jerome K- Jerome, and Sir James M. Barrie. August seems to be the blrt|imonth of poets, tor to that month were born Dryden. Herrick. Scott, Shelley. Southey and Tennyson.Apparently November Is an unlucky month for literary people, for among those who were born In November are Tbomns Cliattcrton. who. In disappointment and poverty, committed suicide at eighteen; William Cowper. who suffered from tneiancholla aud aulddal mania, and finally died Insane; Oliver Goldsmith, continually In prison for debt: John Hunyan. who spent 12 years In prison, thereby giving us “Pilgrim's Progress:" Swift, subject to fits of passion and ill-huiqor. died Insane; Robert Louis Stevenson suffered from almost continual Ill-health, and died forty-four. So much for the “favored months." Of the others. January saw the birth of Bobble Burns. Byron and I^twls Carrol, -uthor of “Alice In Wonderland." who was also a famous mntbematldun. March was tbe blrihmnnth of <SmolUtt and Steele, as also of Ellzukctb Barrett Browning. In April was t>orn the greatest genius the English language has known. Wflllrm Sliakesissare. while among others born In this month were WordswortH. K»b!e. Ueber. Swinburne and Herbert. Charlotte Bronte and Anthony Trollope were also born In this month. June Is not a very good month. Cliarb-s Rea Jo and Charles Kingsley being the only two writers. July gave us Thackeray and George Bernard Shaw, and those Interested in astrology may find a resemblance between the two satirists. Septeraln'r and October were !»th poor months. Mrs. Heumns and U. G. Wells l>el:ic born In September and Coleridge. Keats and Sheridan to October. Finally Milton. Gray and Matthew Arnold were born In December, na were also Jane Austin and Carlyle. So there Is hope fur most people aa for as blrthmontbs are concerned.

Reproducing the Talmud. One of the circumstance* due to the war Is that It has !>eefl found necessary la reproduce the plates Die printing the Hebrew Talmud, originally produced In the town of WIIna. Russia. When this city was captured by Germany the electrotypes of the Talmud. It Is reported, were used for ammunition. To reset the work tn Hebrew would take years with an ordinary outfit It was found necessary that tha plate* slinub! be ramie by pltoio-eugrav-Ing. and this work Is now twin* done In Montreal under the auspices of the Union of tiiitiodox Uabhls of the United States and Canada. The Talmud contains 9/100 pages. 8 by 14. and it I* divided Into 18 volumes. The first volume is finished, and the second la tn print now. It Is estimated that It will take about two yean before the work 1* completed.

Army Anlme's Bought Abroad Not all of tl aulnmis used by the United State* expeditionary fo overseas service were taken from this country. More than twice a* many were bought abroad. The total number of aolninl* purchased overseas to January 11. 1019. Is Ifl'iSTW. Purchases of homes In France amounted to Kty.Mti; In ttpaln. 1 VI1 ; and In Great Britain. llJfelS. The value purchase'. In France wa« $43.122/194; tn Hp.-iln. tM9.1fl9f and Great Brltn'n tfl£!-t.T11. or a total value of MU. (XSUW; for 1'"t"77 boram purchased overseas. The total number of routeo purrl'nsi-d OVOVMBS amounted to 29.Or,!', with u value of flUlfiJM? Thera were 0341 mule*, valued st R.VttUB*. puMiased In France; I-.I'll mqje*. with o value «f KVOIb.Kifl. purchased In K|Hiln: and 1.77? mules, valued at f?.tiV'.TC3. purchased In Great Britain. Cpeclal Naval Uniforms. Uniforms having distinctive indgnla have l»eel: dcvlgto-d by the shipping

young appi-i

ins at th.-

I* •.. ho.

Older

ships

That Is Why tha Fertile Acres of Work, ere Canada, With Adjacent Markets, Are So Attractive to Settler*. ThrougUcut erery port.on of the Western Empire lands that are capable of producing are to great demand. We find that to the States of proved agricultural wealth, land prices have increased v.-ltbln the past three or four years to a degree that ten year* ago would not have been thought to be possible. Land that nought tuyere at $100 an acre' five years ago Is changing band* at $200 an acre. Tbe secret of this does not Uc altogether In the higher prices of farm products, for tbe expense of production has Increased proportionately. The better methods of farming have had a good to do with It. and the knowledge that demand* for farm products will be sufficiently great for a good many years to come yo Insure a continuation of the high prices that prevail at present. Then, again. Improved machinery, the tractor and other means of economic power will tend to lessen the cost Governing land values, too. are climates. soil, moisture, settlement, railreads. markets. Without markets, no matter how much the other factors enter Into It the land U m-rely of speculative value. It U not more thnn a third of a century since ninety per cent of the land to Western Canada, now occupied and tilled, end producing ragh in one year to give c profit from twenty-five to thirty dollars per acre, was unoccupied or used as. grazing land, and worth very little. These lands today are valuable, and are being sought by settlers who realize thetr present nnd future value. There Is no portion of the world that Is attracting the same attention. Tha *o!l may have Improved in the past centuries with the fertilizing given it by nature; the clirante has not changed, and the moisture may bo considered the same. These are three of the essential* of good land. Whot they lacked a third of a century ngo woe markets—a fourth essential. Thera they have now. Thus provided. It l* not to be wondered nt that these millions of acres with their great wealth, which have so long been awaiting the awakening touch of mankind, ore now to he found adding to the available wealth of the world. With the advent of railroads, throwing their great trunks of steel across the continent nnd over the surface of these boundless plains, spreading out their tentacles to remoter parts, the world at large has begun to realize that here wu a country possessing all the natural advantages claimed by older communities; that land here just as good or better, acre for rere. us their own could be had for almost tbe asking. With the realisation of the foregoing fact* came the people, who found that a railway had preceded, them and Markets already ex'sted for anything that they might care to raise. These markets have greatly expanded and, are capable of still greater expansion, and assure to the agriculturist the prevailing prices of the world. An assured market means added value to every acre -f land in Western Canada, and the rear future will see lands that n/e row selling nt exceptionally low pi in** begin lo Inereara In vnlne. Just as they have in Eastern Canada nnd the United States. —-Advertisement. Mean Hint. He—You don't catch my Ideas. She—I'm sorry, but I broke my butterfly net.

WHY DRUGGISTS RECOMMEND SW1MP-R00T For many year* druggist* have watched with much ictemt the remarkable record iraiataincd by Dr. Kilmer’* Ntvarap-Root, Uu groat kidney, liver and bladder mtdiIt 1* a phyucian'a preacription. Swamp Root i» a ►treajr.brning m.dicii»e. It belli the kidney*, liver and bladder do tb* work nature intended they fbould do. Swamp-Root bar atood the teat of years. It la *uld by all draggiki or it* merit and it *1100111 help you. No other kidney nardicinr h.-.* *o many friend.. Be »ure lo get Swamp-Root and clart treatment at once. However, if you wi lt find to te*t this great preparation wnd ten cent* to Dr. Kilmer A Cc, Ringhamtoa. N Y., for a ■ample bottle. When writing 1* rare end mention this paper.—Adv.

Naturally. “Ill* wits Ms-tu to be scattered." “Tbrn that l* why he seemed i ibb to collect himself."

la • Me*lih\ CtilM

■|YoiwSSSS : EyeS''‘2»*3r? I Yom Drugviai. o- hr ui' j* |b.-tlr. ' I for Seek *1 Ikt- Its ?rro writ. » t \ Mur to a *>• Seurady Co., CtiwyO-