THE END OF HER JOURNEY.

IN FOUR CHAPTERS.

From " Temt-le Bar."

SYNOPSIS OF CHAPTER I.

[The opening chapter of this story sets ferth how Mr Edward Archerson, a brief less young barrister, married a rather plain little woman with Ll,ooo a year in her own right. She was deeply in love with him, an affection that received only a very moderate return. "Teddy," as his friends familiarly called him, was, however, very considerate for his wife, but his per sonal attentions to her steadily declined, and he encouraged her as much as possible to compensate for his frequent absences from home on the plea of business by going out with her cousin Amy. '' Teddy " prospered in business, and his wife saw less and less of him. He con tinued, however, kind enough in other ways?, accounting for his personal neglect by the plea that he had to spend his evenings working up cases at Chambers. Once a week he absented himself all night,alleging that he spent the time with a bachelor chum at Richmond. On one occasion his wife's suspicions were partly aroused by a. person . bringing "Teddy's" cardcase to the house, stating that he had picked it upat Clapham, although herhusband denied having been there. Where Chapter 11. begins Mrs Archerson, who has become crushed by this steady neglect, is ponder ing the matter over, with a sad heart.]

CHAPTER ll—Continued

She sat and thought it over for the thousandth time one afternoon early in December. She looked round the room—a trim, well-kept room, with everything in its place, everything pretty and carefully arranged, and yet that somehow lacked cosiness. It looked as if it had never been untidy, and as if no one had sat there dream ing a day-dream or dosing iv the twilight, or telling little confidential stories over its crackling fire. She wondered why Teddy always looked so uncomfortable, so like a stranger in it. She could not tell. Beside her was a little tea-table, and on it a tray with a cup and saucer and a plate with two slices of thin bread and butter. It told much to discerning eyes. No charming woman has one solitary cup brought in for her afternoon tea; she knows how unlikely it is that she will drink it alone, and a second cup is put ready. Somebody is sure to come —some merry little married woman whose husband will not be at home that day ; some happy girl who has been shopping, or forlorn bachelor wh§ remembers that her tea is sure to bl good, her talk bright, and her sym pathy certain, and who thinks how pleasantly she will make an hour pass before he betakes himself to his club. But cosy chats of this sort were un known to Mrs Arclierson. She was a little dull to the married woman, she had no attraction for girls, and men felt strange and awkward with her. They never quite knew what to talk about; she did not care for books or politics, she never con trived to be in the swing of the gossip of the moment; moreover, she had some old-fashioned pre judices she felt it a duty to stand by, that made her rather difficult to get along with. Just as people were try ing to be a little intimate with her they found they had to pick and choose carefully their subjects of conversation. It was told of her by a cousin of Teddy's that she had stated openly that she seldom read books, unless they were religions, when it was a duty to read them; or historical, when it was instructive. Poetry she did not care for unless it rhymed and flowed very easily ; and novels as a rule she con sidered immoral. Was not the * Vicar of WakefiekT a story of seduction? and were the scenes between the Knight and the Jewess in ' Ivanhoe' fit for modest women to read ? If she had had daughters they would have read neither till matrimony had overtaken them. As for modern novels, she left them alone, perhaps to her profit, and certainly to the development of her natural gravity. At parties, where she saw most of life and gathered the majority of her ideas, she merely stood in the crowd with the rest, saying now and then a ■word or two to this person or that, noticing the gowns of her friends, and wondering how it was that others con trived to look so much more lively than herself. Altogether she had little enough material to form lively talk for her own tea-table. The result was that at five o'clock Mrs Archerson was generally alone. Her callers left cards or came early, and having stayed a quarter of an hour went away with an air of having fulfilled a duty. There are some people who seem born to put others through minor moral exercises; Mildred was ono of them. And yet meanwhile deaf and dumb the woman's soul lived within its prison, uncon sciously beating against its bars, long ing to escape, wondering and weeping at its own limits, its own blindness, its own incapacity, having no power at all except to suffer without seeing the reason of it, or knowing any remedy. But it was not yet time for her lonely tea; never did she allow her self to venture upon it before five. She felt that the mistress of a house hold had no business to humour her self, for upon her depended the examples of method and punctuality that were bo important to every mem ber of it. And yet, how weary uhe felt! And how much—for women aro comforted by small things—a cup of tea, and a cosy creeping nearer te> the

fire, or perhaps a love-story, or the playing of a few snatches on. the piano, would have brightened things. BiitJ this never dawned upon her. She sat, and dreamily wafted—for nothing ; her thoughts dwelling on the one sub ject that engrossed them always now, going over it again and again, always coming to a cul de sac, and turning wearily back once more. Presently, woman-like, she looked down at her dress ; it was good enough, but not too well made; another woman would probably have called it dowdy. At her throat there was some soft lace, badly arranged ; it had not the pic turesque touch that other fingers would have given it, or the prim fashioning; that would have suited her perfectly, if she had but known how to manage it. She raised, her eyes to the mantel-shelf: there was a tiny Dresden china clock on it. She thought for a moment vaguely of the housemaid, and wished she dusted more carefully. There were some little cut crystal vases full of yellow roses, though ifc was winter-time. She had told Teddy once, in a longing voice, that she had seeu a bowl of them at Christmas time at Mrs Stanley's; and the next day he had ordered a florist to send her some every week* It was very good of him; but she remembered how once, a few mouths after they were married, he had brought her home half-n-dozen snowdrops', and she had kissed them every morning when she changed the water. It was not possible to kiss flowers sent from a florist's. And then her eyes fell on Teddy's portrait, smiling down on her as he himself never smiled. Her breast swelled, a lump rose in her throat, as she wondered of whs,t ik, was that he had been thinking—of whom, that he had looked so happy, when that portrait was taken, so un constrained, so thoroughly light hearted. It had not been taken very long ; yet it was years since she had seen that look on his face when he was alone with her. She felt as if she depressed him now, as if she were a duty, a part of his routine of life, a relation, a something he had to take care of and look after, but his sweet heart, his wife, the woman of his heart —no, never. It was all right, per haps; many men grew absorbed in their work after they were married, and merely took their wives in with the matter-of-course part of their lives. And yet all the women she knew, even the women with far less easy - going- generous husbands than hers, were on a bettor footing than she—a footing that meant greater happiness, that was altogether more satisfying to their hearts and their womanly dignity. She put her face down on hex hands for a moment, and shutting out the room and the memory of the last few years, thought over the time of her engagement. It had been a very happy one, for she had been very much in love, and unsophisticated enough to take it for granted; that Teddy was also. It never entered her head that her money could have had anything to do with her marriage. It simply never occurred to Mil dred to suspect anyone — much less her own husband—of meanness or Untruth. Yet now, looking back, she felt as if he could not have cared very much; she remembered that he hcid not seemed very 'eager even when he proposed. He had written to her once a week; but his letters had not been very full of endear ment. They had satisfied her at the time, but now they seemed to have been almost cold; for since her mar riage she had once or twice been shown other girls' love-letters —' they were vastly different from Teddy's to her. She sat and wondered, then suddenly rose, went to the glass over the china shelf at the end of the room and looked at herself, long and sorrowfully. And then she dimly understood it all. She was a woman who would never win any man's intense love —a woman to,marry for peace and quietness—one whom a man might be certain would never cause him a moment's uneasiness—but not a woman with whom to fall in love, She looked at her soft and yet dull grey eyes, her only tolerable com plexion, her lips that lacked form, and colour —at her slim figure that had no roundness, »t her own youth that had none c f the flush and sunniness of youth. For a moment something like despair overtook her, and then a quick thankfulness that Teddy was so en grossed with his work and whist. Per haps it would never strike him, perhaps he would never see at all what she saw plainly. Iv future she would try to ac eppt the inevitable, to be content with what she had ; for she felt that it was impossible to get more, it was not in her to provoke it. It was perhaps lucky that Teddy did not go out oftener —did not care for women's society. Who knows but that, seeing the difference, he might—but she could not even think of that 1 If Teddy were to care for another woman she should die. His neglect, his careless ness, his scant love-making, his absorp tion in his work—all these she could endure. After all was it not Some thing to be his, to bear his name, to live beneath the same roof, to have all the affection and care he could s^are time or remember to give her 1 Bjut if he had cared or were to care fqr anyone else, it would kill her. It was a happy thing for her that women were not attractive to him, that he troubled so little about them.

It was five o'clock. She stopped her thinking as a matter of oourse, a little brass kettle was broughtin> and after waiting a minute for the water to boil up over tiie spirit lamp, she made tea, then while it was drawing took up her knitting and worked, glad that some little part of the day's routine had claimed her attention. Suddenly there came a cheering sound that caused her to look up expegtingly— the sound of tho visitors' bell; and tfrsu there entered a pretty Uttle,

woman, lively, and with plenty to say. lit was quite a novelty to sue anyone so late in the afternoon ; Mildred's face almost brightened into a laugh, she was so glad and surprised. '""I thought 1 should find you.' Mrs Carew said, sitting down and pre paring for a cosy chat. She had known Mildred for years—ever since her marriage ; and had always rather gone out of her way to be cordial. ' Yes, I am longing for some tea,' she added, as the second cup was brought in. She pulled off her glove ready for some hot tea-cake, and then, seeing that there was none, put it on again.

Tea-cake was just one of those things that Mrs Archersou would not have, Mrs Carew thought j but it was too cold for bread-and-butter. 'I have been shopping all the afternoon, and am so tired," she said, putting her too little feet on the fender—' apd so cold,' she added, with an apologetic laugh for making herself so much at home. 'Shopping is very tiring,' Mildred remarked.

'Oh dear, yes, very; and I always have to do mine in a hurry. I never have time for anything. 1 often wish our grandmothers would come back and see what busy lives women have nowadays. It would astonish them.' ' I suppose they went about less than we do,' Mildred said thought fully. 'Far less. It is a mere miracle that they did not get covered with moss, on the principle of the stone that never rolls. But they must have had an easy time. I wish I had been born a grandmother.' ' I dare say they found plenty to do, after all,' Mildred answered. 'They looked after their homos better than we do.'

'Made jam and dusted their own cjiina. I am glad wo don't. They took more trouble about their homes ifi is true, but with less success; and tjiey took very little trouble about their dress/

" But their dress was very pretty. Why we copy it now !' I 'Oh, yes, occasionally. But they always looked precisely the same, and all alike; and we are always looking different, which adds to our charm,' Mrs Carew laughed, ' and prevents our husbands from getting tired of us, as our grandpapas often did of our grand mammas.'

Mrs Archerson thought the remark was not a very nice one, but she was too much interested iv the subject to mind. *Do you. think,' shq asked slowly, 'that anything one wears or does has any effect on one's husband —say three years after marriage ?'

'Of course it has. Three years ! Why, it has an effect thirty years after. I often think that it ia a woman's own fault if ho changes or grows tired of her. It is terrible to a man always to see the same thing before his eyes. She should take care not to become monotonous, not even to herself, for fear of growing stupid 1'

' But how is she to avoid growing monotonous to herself ? She can't make herself into somebody else to avoid getting tired of herself,' Mildred said. She was becoming quite excited in the conversation, feeling as if every moment Mrs Carew might acci dentally give her some recipe by which Teddy could be turned into a devoted husband.

' She can change—she can alter her dress, hor amusements, her every thing. Men grow tired of women who arc always the Bamo, just as they would tire of the same dinner every day. Besides, it would be so dull to one's self to be always the same; one would know so little, and be so narrow. Surely it is better to change with life, which is always changing?

' I think men grow tired of their wives because they are there, and under their control — because with marriage all the romance and necessity for love-making comes to an end,' Mildred said.

'But wives arc not entirely under their control.' Mrs Carew laughed. 1 And the romance and all the rest of it does not come to an end with marri age—unless the woman chooses. Let us be thankful for our station in life, my dear. The men much lower down beat their wives; and the men a little lower down—the second-rate men, and half-educated — have notions about kqeping their wives in order, and treat them as puppets of which they must pull the strings. But that is over as far as the majority of us are concerned. I think wives now have a very good time; they do pretty much as they like. Men like pleasant companions; and if a woman only knows how to look nice and be nice, she has nothing to complain of.'

' I don't believe in Women's Eights,' Mildred said nervously.

' Neither do I,' answered Mrs-Carew. 1 But I believe in having a good time, And if we are only nice to our husbands, and take care not to be always the same, that's the fatal thing, we' get an excellent time. I know I do—get my own way and fight Charlie as much as I like on various topics, and all the time I am piQiul \o feel that he is the stronger or the two, even if he does give way. We all like strong men, you know.' r Yes—when th»y love us,' Mildred answered.

• Ah,' Mrs Carew said, with a little m<)ck sigh—' yes, when they love us. It is a terrible thing to reflect how much we women depend for happiness on our affections. If wo are only well-lovsd all the world is ours, and anyone else who pleases may hare fame and wealth and everything life has to give, but that is not worth sixpence to one of us, un less we have love. It is horrible! Give me some more tea—may I have another cup?' And then poor Mil dred's aching heart found courage to put the question she longed to ask all women she met,

'Is your husband as fond of you as ever— I don't mean }f he kind only; but is he fond of you ?'

'As much in love as the day we married—just. I ruean him to remain so till the clay I die.'

' But if he altered—if he grew care less ?'

' Ah, I should nip that sort of thing in the bud, for fear of getting my heart broken,' she added. ' But how would you nip it in the bud V asked Mrs Archeraon eagerly. 'I can't tell you at this moment,' Mrs Carow said, with an air of con sideration ; ' but I should do it—or run away'—and seeing Mrs Archersou looked shocked, she added 'or die.' There was nothing to shock her prin ciples in tho idea of dying, Mrs Carew thought. ' Teddy is so much taken up with his work,' Mrs Archersou said.

'He is getting on. How proud you must be !' And she looked up with a sympathetic glow on her pretty face, but it reflected none on Mildred's. ' His name is always in the paper now. What lovely roses ! You must have some kind friend at Nice who sends them V

' No ; they came from the florist's.' ' How very extravagant! Charlie would give me a little wigging if I in dulged in fjuch luxuries.' 'I don't; it is Teddy. lie ordered them, and told Brooks to send enough every week to fill the glasses; he knows I like flowers.'

' I call that being an attentive hus band,' Mrs Carew said, arrangihg her cloak-clasp and preparing to go. 'So he is,' Mildred answered in a grateful voice, while her heart re proached her with all her discontent — ' the best and the most generous in the world'

' By-the-way, were you going on to the Palace yesterday ?' 'No, why?' ' • 'Oh, Charlie said he saw you at Clapham ?' 'At Clapham ?' Mrs Archerson looked up in surprise. 'Yes, he saw Mr Archerson, and thought you were with him ; but you had your back turned and he only saw your bonnet—or hat, I think he said/ Mrs Carew answered, wonder ing vaguely, now that it was too late, whether she had been indiscreet; but still something made her go on. 'He said you were on the platform at Clap ham, but did not see you at the Palace, though he looked out for you. He went down to the meeting. Perhaps, after all, he was mistaken,' she added, trying to patch up any mischief she might have done.

' Perhaps so; or perhaps Teddy met someone ho knew,' Mrs Archerson said, slowly and naturally enough. But swift as an arrow her thoughts went back to that evening, many months ago now, when the man brought the card-case he had found at Clapham—and from that moment Mrs Archerson was not only an unhappy but a jealous woman. With jealousy, too, there came its wisdom, or its artfulness. She said nothing to her friend—nay, she seemed to suddenly brighten—and was so lively that when Mrs Carew went home she told her husband Teddy A.'s wife was a nice little thing; it was a shame Teddy didn't take her about more.

' She's rather slow, you know, dar ling,' Mr Carew answered. ' And then she always looks so dowdy.'

' I know,' his wife answered tri umphantly. ' I tried to give her a hint of that to-day. I told her you men were all susceptible to pretty clothes.'

'Indeed! That's your sole reason for wearing them, I suppose V

'Of course, and because I like you to admire mo; and —oh, by-the-way, Charlie, she wasn't at Clapham yester day. Are you certain there was some one'with him f

'Certain. You were not such a goose to tell her so V 'Yea, I did; but I don't think I made any mischief. She said he Lad probably met some one.' • Well, perhaps he had. Teddy lias toned down of late years. Still, when a man has married for money he is not always such a pattern of virtue as if—

'As if he had married for love, as you did V

' Precisely.' ' Then it is a great pity that she was noi a pauper, as I was, poor thing.'

' Don't be too sure. You may have been an heiress unawares, and I may have known it beforehand.' At which his wife laughed, and said she only wished it were true. And then they went merrily down to their cosy little dinner, while Mrs Archerson at Ken sington was looking blankly at her lonely meal, and wondering if she could get two or three mouthfuls down just to deceive the servants. Ten minutes before she had received a telegram say ing that her husband was detained and could not be back to dinner.

Teddy came home late that night, but Mildred was still up—au unusual thing for her; she looked so pale and worn that he noticed it.

' You should have gone to bed,' he said anxiously. 'You know you are not strong enough to be up late at nights. Besides, it worries me to think you are waiting for me.'

' I wanted to finish my work. Besides, I don't see very much of you now, Edward.'

He winced a little. Moreover, he always felt uneasy if she called him Edward when they were alone. It was absurd, but it gave him an idea that things were not quite right. • No, you don't, lam afraid. Some how I never have any time now.'

'Have you been at work all the evening V •Well—no, dear, not precisely at work; but I have been occupied.' *, Mrs Garew came to-day. She says you must be getting on, for she is ahyays seeing your name in the papers, 1

' That's all right,' he answered cheer fully. ' I looked for it this morning, but I did not see it. Were you in any case yesterday V

' Yesterday—let me see. Well, no, not yesterday, dear. 1 was in cham bers all day looking through a brief with Wilson.'

She looked at him keenly. ' AH day V she asked, and saw him wince.

' Nearly all day. I had an engage ment in the afternoon. Why do you ask f For a moment she hesitated, tempted to tell him her suspicions. But it is the curse of jealousy that it cannot be straightforward, and she fenced. Something seemed to close her lipa. She grew silent and miserable —so miserable that she became thin and pale, and more and more dejected. But tears and dejection, especially when they cannot be accounted for, win no man's heart 5 and Teddy, though he was sorry enough, and anxious too, felt his feet hurry faster and faster from her, day by day. At last she looked so ill he grew alarmed. 'She wants more excite ment,' he thought. ' It's dull for hor alone all day at Kensington.' He pondered over matters a bit, and then a bright thought struck him. ' I'll tell you what it is, Millie,' he said, 'you want a thorough change. You ought to get away from all this fog and brick and mortar. How would you like to go to Rome for a month or two, or to Nice and Mentone 1 You were always fond of travelling.' 'Witb you, Edward?' she asked eagerly. 'Well, no. You see it would be utterly impossible for me to get away. Mrs Carew would miss my name in the paper every morning, But you might take Amy with you. I dare say she would be delighted. I should be rather on my beam ends at Nice or Mentone, though of course I could get over to Monte Carlo every day; but I don't suppose you would approve of that, or care about staying there.'

' I should care about staying any where with you,' she answered quickly, ' Couldn't manage it, dear—not even for a day. Too many things coming on.'

' Then let me stay,' she said. ' I would far rather stay at home.' ' You shall do as you like; but I would rather that you went.'

'Do you want to get rid of me, Teddy V ' No, of course nofc. Why should I want to get rid of you V he asked. But after that he did not press her to go. 'i She is only a little moped,' he thought. (I am away a good deal, and she has not many resources. I "wish she would go to Mentone for a few months, it would do her a world of good; and I might be able to run out and fetch her at Easter.'

But Mrs Archersea did not mean to go. She Btayed at home with eyes that watched and ears that tried to hear, and a heart that ached sorely, with a feeling that a strange drama was being played almost in her presence, but the curtain of the theatre was down so that she could not see, and she was dazed and could not compre hend. She knew instinctively that the end would come of all this terrible sus pense, that some day, some moment when she least expected it, the curtain would be thrust aside, and all things made plain. She waited, dreading what she might lift her eyes to see.

(To bo Continued To-morrow.)

6

THE •AUCRLANJ& EVENING: STAR,- WEDNESDAY, AUGUST 17. • 1887.,



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Tailoring:. EXTRA PAIR OF TROUSERS X V^ TO *J& § I" MEASURE, -g H k 50s. 05s. 60s. '§ g S § 65a- 70s. 755. " H g 8 80a. 85s. 90b. § % ROBINSON, Tailok,Jt k N^\. CORNER OP S@&' CQ 3 N^£yCooK & GREY SiSSetSy S \^ ) GREY STREETS. | %X EXTRA PAIR OP TROUSERS ~p D W A R D |^| A S H, Weixesley Street West. SUITS! COATS COATS . VESTS VEST 3 TROUSERS TROUSERS SUITS -OTPQrn SUITS „ COATS isJi.br COATS VESTS VESTS suits V A T TTTT 1 suits TROUSERS V.ZI_LiU.Cj TROUSERS COATS IX COATS SUITS TAWTV SUITS VESTS -LVJYVIN. VESTS TROUSERS TROUSERS SUITS SUITS COATS COATS VESTS VESTS SUITS! NO TROUSERS GIVEN A\VAY ! Insurance ' ■\TEW ZEALAND INSURANCE COM JLY PANY (FIRE AND MARINE). Capita 1........... rmT. £1,000,000. Paid-up and Reserve Funds £135,000 Protection prom fire or MARINE LOSS Can be Effected in thib Cojupany. CLAIMS MET WITH PROMPTITUDE AND LIBERALITY. i JAMES BUTTL.E, Manager,



Watches. mflE CORRECT TIME! WITHIN REACH OF ALL. TKN YEARS xVGO STEWAItT UAVVSON& Co., LjYKRrooL, Struck the keynote 01 sound coininerc>al trad ine by oncninx tho portals of their Factory to the actual eonsuiuers, THE GENERAL PUB LIC, thus sweeping: away at one blow the exor bitant profits of the Middleman and Retail Dealer. The results attendant on this, the only real and beneficial system of trading with ad vantage to the buyer, has boen An Unqualified Success, Unprecedented in tho annals of English Watch making. *3" READ THIS. Just to band, ex s.s. Kaikoura, a Large Stock of GOLD AND SIL.VEII .iII VVELLKUY,Iatest fashions. These Goodshavingloft Liverpool on ' the Ist June last, onr Customers can depend on i them being quite now, and arc no part o£ Bank rupt's Stock, pr old fashioned Jewellery, to be disposed of £.t any price. The readers aro invited to call and inspect the Goods. Every article guaranteed, and niartted lowest possible 1 price, as usual with S.D. & Co. I -£?° 1 Ke—S.D. and Co.'s well-known Jinglish aCiO XOo silver Hunting Levers. pa i X a —S. D. and Co.'s English Silver , a&* xoo Hunting Levers, chron. balance, extra jewelled. Worch£Bßs. [ nr ■< a q —S. I), and pq.'s new Excelsior 3 3p«J luo plate English Levera. The Model i Watch, well worth £1010s. I -4*?Q 1 £o-^s- P- and Co-s Ladies' English Sil tXjQ XOa ver Hunters. Will last alifetime. ' JPH 1 P»c-- S« P- anc^ o#'B Superb Hunting */O XOo chronograph Levers, worth £12 10; or Crystal (jrlass, £5 15s. ■oof a o —S. 1). and Co.'s Silver Keyless g&O ±Uto Hunting Lever, value for £10 10s. Open face, £510s. < 1X C —The wonderful Sterling Silver JJI LOa Defiance Hunter, worth £3 10s. i Open face, £17s 6d. -PA 1 Oq—s*D- and Co-s Offlc»al Railway i *(Vi J.VO EnerlishKeylessLever, unequalled 1 at £1010s. i £1210s, £15 10s, £18 10s, «. jpox—S,D. and Co.'s Superb 1-carat *■ 3C/4O Gold English Lever and Half ; Chronometers,.never equalled \indor 40 per cent more. I*(\ lAg «- 4?7 l/Jo —S. D. and Co.s , i/b IUS & 3JI lUb Ladies 18-carat Gold Keyless Watches, perf ectgems, i worth £1010s. £$ 10s & ;£ll 10s & 10s 1 — S.D. & Co.'s Ladies 18-carat Gold English Levers. Save at least sft per cent by purchasing from the makers. > £11 10s & £12 10s-& s3 r>wortb /•OT ». /"Qfk 18-carat Gold, worth £60. S.D. • ji^l' *>v and Co.'b New Patent Eng i lish Ikiuble Chronographs, with indepen dent start, stop, and fly back minute and second hands. For quality anfl accuracy I never equalled at any price. Obtained Prize Medal Inventions Exhibition last 1 year. Special pamphlet on this watch, post free, for 2d stamp. 7 EVERY WATCH FULLY GUARANTEED. f Bterling Silver Hall-marked Alberts, 9s 6d, 12s , 6d, Us (id, and 15s Cd, Newest Patterns, atnearly t Half usual price. j The WEALEMEFNA, in Sterling Silver, 12s6d. * By simply passing it over surface tho exact distance of feet and inches is recorded on the Dial. Also, forms a splendid t appendage tor the Albert. , GOLD ALBERTS. Ladies' and Gent's Newest Styles, Wholesale Prices, all illustrated S in Pamphlet CANNOT BE EQUALLED. REPAIRS. Note. REPAIRS. Wanted Known, Best Watch Glasses fitted, 3d each. Charges for Watch Repairs—no matter what maker or where bought—equally cheap- Ar rangements made to turn out 150 repairs per week. All Watches cleaned are guaranteed at Stewart Dawson and Co.'b Great English Watch Exhibition, 1 91, Queen-street. ! Call and receive gratis a copy of our 1 Splendid Now Illustrated Watch and : Jewellery Pamphlet, aud read full par- I liuulars and most wonderfultestimonials. FOR REAL VALUE VISIT 3 STEWART DAWSON. & CO.'S 3 GREAT ENGLISH >- WATCH EXHIBITION, 91-QUEEN-STREET-9i b (Opposite Wyndham-street), Auckland. s ■ . ii i '—— I Uledlcal.



A SURE REMEDY FOR BALDNESS. HICKMAN'S ECLIPSE HAIR PRODUCER (Registered.) This Preparation eclipses all others. A new discovery for the Growth of Hair on the Head and Face; for removing and, preventing Dandruff, and arresting the fall of the Hair. It cures any Disease of the Scalp, and causes new growth on the head after being bald for years. W here it has become weak and thin, from whatever cause, it quickly restores it to its natural vigour. Hundreds of residents in Chnstchurch can testify to the fact that J. Hickman was COMPLETELY BALD for many years, and after tryinpt every known remedy without ,eftect, he discovered this wonderful preparation, which ENTIRELY RESTORED HIS HAIR TO ITS NATURAL STATE AND COLOUR. It has also proved successful in a number of other similar cases in which the hair had fallen from scrofula and other diseases of the scalp. . . Each Dottle contains supply for one month. Price, 48, of Graves Aickin, Hamilton Bros., J. P. King and Sons, J. A. Pond, and all Chemists. General Agents— N.Z. DRUG COMPANY. DEN T J_S TRY. Mr A. L. SMITH, OLD-ESTABLISHED DENTIST, ■ Corner of Housox and Wellesley Streets. Artificial Teeth fitted without extracting stumps. Other dentists' work repaired. Teeth stopped. Gas administered. Charges moderate. Tramcara pass the house. WOLFE'S SCHNAPPS is superior to brandy or whisky. COALS, COKE, CHARCOAL, FIRE WOOD. H Best Rata, Titree. and Puriri Firewood .«also, flrst-class Taupiri, Newcastle, and Kamo Coal, at Lowest Price for Cash. Furniture carorully Removed, and Goods dollvered to all parts of the city and suburbs, at Lowest Rates.—Note the Address: C. PIPER, opposite the Pousonby Reservoir, and corner of Newtoa andKaranga hape Roads, ■ J



Advertised, FFMALEIu^ D R- INLETS DISCO^ theirpractice, who rccoStn i^ff* nervine known. The extract; iSkl^l** nutritive and invigoratingwWiiH^ ttmtoforthe blood Infi^fe^ To be obtained from all cfiSig- SHARLAND &C 0 WHOLESALE A6EKTS. ' T7" EATING'S LOZE^GES~~~~~^" I*B-* teATINGfLOzffiES CoUgllEe^ -IZ-eatingSSSs^^. 000611^ , JISL '!a ny Doctor will teh tod1 there is no better CoughMed! than KEATING'S LoSk One gives relief; ifrousnffertovn cough try them but onco; tWSa cure and they will not injure £ health; ftey contain only thepffi drugs, skilfully compounded. S everywhere in small tins. KEATING'S WORM TABLED A PURELY VEGETABLE SWEETMEffI both in appearance and taste, furnißhingatajsi agreeable method of administering ttßoilr certain remedy for INTESTINAL or THREAD WOR MS. It is a porfectly safe andMd m. paration, aad is especially adaptedfoc Chita. —Sold in tins by am; Chkmists. PaOPKIETOn, THOMAS KKATING, Lokmj, Export Chemist and Druggist. A WONDERFULMEtiIi "BEECHANTS PILL^j jj£ Cn n -A. thousuuls id ii Jy Xj^^sl/ZA : worth a GnM i f*W^ ' y?*\ ' Box tor bOious aaj' . /«}/ \lP\ nerrous ■ SjAb, Ja^Y - . . \ vi inch a» TjW.aid1 p/patent r SSBB id PlLLSiiisssags ft «V\_ /i?/ flashings of 'M \i"£xv yiv/ to of-itw V'W/^-^-^hy!/ sbortnesjrfiwii XTO^k^jPi^ (!OStiTHieBS,»W»« blotchesmttmra^ ■ . jadST disturbed steep,; ,; frightful: tousj i and ail nervou3and tremblinff Bensatloni.to;^; flrstdose will give relief in 20 minute. ■■Emiijol fiction, for they have done it in thonssaos of cv* Every snffereris earnestly invited to to'«|* these Pills, and they will be: acknowledged p » WORTH A GUINEA A.BOD For females of all ages taefee Pißs awtorstol* as a few doses of them carry off aUgroaranMa, open all obstructions, and bring sbonUU tttt» required. No females shoald beimthoitta1 There is no medicine tn be foam w^^ B'SECHAM'S PHII/8 forremoTing«irowr» tion or irregularity of the system. B. m according to the directions g>venmttwam they will soon restore' females of aU eges to jm. and robust health. . ...„,,,„, ..m For a weak fltom^oh.mpa^diptoLW1 disorders of the liver, they act Uto^MACTO gi afow doses wiUbefoundto work wnto»W»| most important organs of the ta«"M#J They strengthen the who c mnwutar m* •restore tha long lost eomplejaon,tog«™ keen edge of appetite and arouse "*"£™E theßO?EßUDofhe«ltQtb^holephj»M of the human frame. .These •*»_;■& admittod by-thonsaads eatewtoj^^J Bociety; and one of the beat Mj. nervous and debilitated U, Baechamiig thelargestsaleofanypatentinediciMmto^ BEECHAM'S lAGIC COUGHp 1 As aremedyforOoughsingemtAßlgg Pills stand unrivalled; the public for Asthmatic «^CfS?fBST' comfort to those I SIJSiS» I ing and, when neglected, danger^i «g-j misquitoes. ot:»ffS iiand-billa. ""^ " ~^Tmd so^ •»-• rfl X A« v taas»isaau-