z Mei iditisgrit.

e

- sion of sobs and tears.

.a brief pause; suddenly a man staggered

with a shock of uncombed red hair, and

‘the loafers who stood by.

‘aucked the stem of his pipe with appar- gaged in deep meditation on the subject,

a S? 1 ced ‘a als SNES ISHS \ t

i THE HIRED BABY

A Romance of London Streets. *

BY fOON a A\\ Wi Ni

BY MARIE CORELLI oe’

nr aN Hseos VLSI Co Se SoM gees EN AIAN ARS AIRY

“Oh, don’t hurt it!’ pleaded Lis, tremblingly. ‘‘Such a little thing; don’t hurt it!”

Mother Mawks stared so wildly that her blood-shot eyes seemed protruding from. ner head.

“'Urt it! Hain’t I a right to do wot I likes with my hown babby? = ’Urt it! Well, I never! Look ‘ere!’’ and shoe turned round on the assembled neigh- bors. ‘‘Hain't she a reg’lar one! She don’t care for the law, not she! She's keepin’ back a child from its hown mother!’ And with that she made a fierce attack on the shawl and succeeded in dragging the infant from Liz’s reluct- antarms. Wakened thus roughly from its slumbers, the poor mite set up a feeble wailing; it's mother, enraged at

the sound, shook it violently till it gasped for breath. “Drat the little beast'’’ she cried.

“Why don’t it choke an’ 've done with

hh]

And without

heeding the terrified re- monstrances of Liz, she flung the child roughiy, as though it were a ball, through the open door of her lodgings, where it fellon a heap of dirty clothes, and lay motionless; its wailing had ceased,

“Oh, baby, baby!'’ exclaimed Liz, in accents of poignant distress. ‘‘Oh! you have killed it, Iam sure! Oh, you are cruel, cruel! Oh, baby, baby!’’ ;

And she broke into a tempestuous pas- The bystanders looked on in unmoved silence. Mother Mawks gathered her torn garments round her with a gesture of defiance, and sniffed the air as though she said, “Any one who wants to meddle with we will get the worst of it."’ There was

out of the gin shop, smearing the back of his hand across hie mouth as he came —a massively built, ill-favored brute

small, ferret-like eyes. He stared stupid- ly at the weeping Liz, then at Mother Mawks, finally from one to the other of ‘“‘Wot's the row?’’ he demanded, thickly, ‘‘ Wot's up? ‘Ave it out fair! Joe Mawks'll stand by and see fair game. Fire away, my hear- ties! fire, fire away!’ And with a chuckling, idiot laugh he dived into the pocket of his torn corduroy trousers and produced a pipe. Filling this leisurely from a greasy pouch, with such unsteady fingers that the tobacco dropped all over him, he lighted it, repeating with in- creased thickness of utterance, ‘‘ Wot’s the row? Ave it out fair!’’

“It's about your babby, Joe!’’ cried the girl before mentioned, jumping up from her seat on the ground with such foree that her hair ecxme tumbling all about her in a dark, dank mist, through which her thin, eager face spitefully peered.‘‘Liz has gone crazy! She wants your babby to cuddle!’’ And she scream- ed with sudden laughter, ‘‘Eh, eh,fancy! Wants a babby to cuddle.’’

‘the stupefied Joe blinked drowsily and ent relish. Then, as if he had been en- he removed his smoky consoler from his mouth, and said, ‘‘W’y not? Wants a habby to cuddle? All right! Let ’er ’ave it—w'y not®’’

At these words Liz looked up _ hope- fully throuch her tears, but Mother

Mawks darted forward in raving indig. | nation.

“Yer great drunken fool!’’ she yelled, | to her besotted spouse, ‘‘aren’t yer | ashamed of verself? Wot! Let ont yer habby for a wnole night for nuthin’? It’s lucky I've got my wits about me; an’ I may Liz shan't ‘ave it! Tbere now!’’

The man looked at her and a dogged resolution darkened his repulsive coun- tenance. He raised his biz fist, clinched it, and hit straight out, giving his in- fariated wife a black exe in much less thana minute. ‘‘An’ I say she shall ‘ave it. Where are ye now?’’

In answer to the query Mother Mawks might have said that she was ‘‘all there.” for she returned her husband’s blow with interest and force, and in a *ouple of seconds the happy pair were *fgaged in a ‘‘stand-up’’ fight, to the dntense admiration and excitement af all the inhabitants of the little alley. Every One in the piace thronged to watch the ®ombatants aad to hear the blasphemaus “aths and curses with which the battle Was accom panied.

In the midst of the affrey, a wizened, bent old man, whe had been sitting af Ais door sorting rags ima basket, and 4ppetently tuking no heed of the clamer Sround him, made a sign to Liz.

“Take the kid now.”’ be whispered “Nobody’ll notice. I'l see they don’t cry arter ye.’’ Liz thanked him mutely by a Jook, and rushing to the house where the ehild stil) lay, seemingly inanimate, on the floor among the soiled clothes, she ‘aught it up eagerly and hurried away fo her own poor garret in a tumble-down tenement ar the furthest end of the alley.

infant had been stunned by its fall, but under her tender care, and rocked in the warmth of her caressing orms, it 002 recovered, though when its blue Fes Opened they were full of a bewild- tl pain, such as may be seen in the “Fes of a shot bird.

“My pet! My poor little darling!’’ she murmured over and over again, kissing ts Wee white face and soft hands; I wish Was your mother—Lord knows I do!

ls, you're a1 I've got to care for,

And you do love me, baby, don’t you? Just a little, little bis!’ And as she re- Newed her fondling embraces, the tiny, ne Visaged creature utrered a low, croon- 5g sound of baby satisfaetion in response endearments—a sound more sweet

ears than the most exquisite

Music, and which brought a smile to her thand a pathos to her dark eyes, ng her face for the moment almost

i beautiful Holding the ebild ¢losely ty

| her a curt ‘‘Good-night!""

ile wciceniitaintie Mg AA ge

wer

* a 5 ne ae ae . i en ; PA oe wa a Pa bi = ee SS ene pttlttin an a. ee

™ a u " an 1, cf ae * ba os

THR DAILY EXAMINER, CHARLOTTETOWN, DECEMBER 31, ‘897

Her D~ast, soe lOOKeu cRLubousiy her narrow window, and perceived the connubial fight was over. From the shouts of laughter and plaudits that reached her ears, Joe Mawks had evi- dently won the day; his wife had disap- peared from the field. She saw the little crowd dispersing, most of those who composed is entering the gin shop, and very soon the alley was comparatively quiet and deserted By and by she heard her name called in a low voice: ‘Liz! Liz!’’

She looked down and saw the old man who had promised her his protection in ease Mother Mawks should persecute her, ‘‘Is that you, Jim? Come upstairs, it's better than talking out there.’’ He obeyed, and stood before her in the wretched room, looking curiously both at her and the baby. A wiry, wolfish- faced being was Jim Duds, as he wag familiarly called, though his own name was the aristocratic and singularly inap.- propriate one of James Douglas; he was more like an animal than 4 human C¢Crea- ture, with his straggling gray hair, bushy beard, and sharp teeth protruding hike fangs from beneath his upper lip,

**Mother Maws bas got it this ‘time,’

oub ot that

he said, with a grim, which was more like a snarl. ‘‘Joe’s blood was up and he pounded her nigh into a jelly. Shell leave ye quiet DoW; so lony as y? pay the hire reglar ye'll have Joe on yer side. If so be as there's a bad day, ye’d better not come home at all.’’

‘*I know.”’ gaid Liz, ‘‘but she’s always had tbe money for the child, and surely it wasn't much to ask her to let me keep it warm on such a cold night as this.’’

Jim Duds looked meditative. “Wot makes yer care for that babby so much ?’’ he asked. ‘‘’Tain’s your’n.”’

Liz sighed.

**No!”* she said, sadly. ‘‘That’s true. But it seems something to hold on to like. See what my life has been!’’ She stopped, and a wave of color flushed her pallid features. ‘‘ From a little girl, noth- ing but the streets—the long cruel streets ' and I just a bit of dirt on the pavement —no more; flung here, flung there, and at last swept into the gutter. All dark-- all useless!’’ She laughed a little. “Fancy, Jim! I’ve never seen the coun-

er

*‘Nor [,’’ anid Jim, biting a piece of straw refiectively. ‘‘'t must be powerful fine, with naught but green trees 4n’ posies a-blowin' an’ a-growin’ every- where. There ain't many kitching areas there, though, I'm told.”’

Liz went on, scarcely heeding him: ‘“*The baby seems to me like what the country must be—all harmless and sweet and quiet; when I hold it so, my heart gets peaceful somekow—I don't know why.”’

Again Jim looked speculative. He waved his bitten straw expressively.

““Ye've had 'sperience, Liz. Hain’t ye met no man like, wot ye could care fur?’

Liz trembled and her eyes grew wild

““Men!"’ she cried with bitterest scorn —‘no men have come my way, only brutes!’’

Jim stared but was silent; he had no fit answer ready. Presently liz spoke again more softly :—

“Jim, do you know I went imto a great church tu-day?’’

““Worse luck!’’ said Jim, sententiomsly. “Church ain’t mo use nohow as fur as I can see,’’

“There was a figure there, Jim,”’ went on Liz earnestly, ‘‘of a Woman holding | upa Baby, and people knelt down before | it. What do you s’pose it was?’’

‘*Can'tsay!"’ replied the puzzled Jim. ‘“‘Are ye sure ‘twas a church? Most like *twas a moo'seum."

*“*No, no!”’ said Liz. ‘*Twas a chureh | for certain; there were felks praying in ,”*

“Ah, well!l’’ growled Jim, gruff, @much good may it do ‘em! I'm not «af | the prayin «ort. A woman an’ a babby, did ye say? . Don’t ye get such cranky | notions into yer head, Liz! Women an’ babbies are common enough-—too com | mon by a long chalk, aw’ «m= far prayin’ to “em—’’ Jim’s utter contempt and ip- }

) surveyed it teaderly: it was last

creduiity were too great for further’ ex- | pression, and he turned away, wishing

‘*Good-night!"" said Liz, softly, and long after ho had left her she +till sat siient, thinking, thinking, with the baby asleep in her arms, listening to the rain as it dripped, dripped heavily, like clods falling on a coffin-lid. She was nota good woman—far from it. Her very mo- tive in hiring the infant at se mucha day was encirely inexcusable—it was simply to gain money upon false preten- ses, by exciting more pity than would otherwise have been bestowed on her had she beggei for herself alone, without a child in her arms. At first she had car- ried the baby about to serve as a mere trick of her trade, but the warm feel of its little helpless body against her busom day after day had softened her heart to- | ward its innocence and pitiful weakness,

and at last she had grown to love it, with a strange, intense passion—so much | that she would willingly have sacrificed

her life for its sake. She knew that its | own parents cared nothing for it, except for the money it brought them through her hands, and often wild plans would form in her poor tired brain—plans of running away with it altogether from , the roaring, devouring city, to some sweet, humble country village, there to obtain work and devote herself to mak- | ing this little child happy. Poor Liz!

Poor, bewildered, heart;broken Liz!

Ignorant London heathen as she was,

there was one fragrant dower blossoming

in the desert of her soiled and wasted — existence—the flower of a pure and | guileless love for one of those yan

ones’ of whom it hath been said by an All-pitying Divinity unknown to her: ‘‘Suffer them to come unto Me, and for- bid them not, for of such is the Kingdem of Heaven.’’ | The dreary winter days crept apace, and as they drew near Christmas, dwel- lers in the streets leading to the Strand grew accustomed of nights to hear the | plaintive voice of a woman singing ina peculiarly thrilling and pathetic manner some of the old songs and ballads famil- iar and dear to the heart of every Eng- | lishman—‘‘The Banks of Allan Water,’’ | **The Bailiff’s Daughter,’ ‘‘Sally in Our Aliey,’’ ‘The Last Rose of Summer’; | all these well-loved ditties she sang one after the eth, 4ad though. ber. notes }

were helbaer ifesu OOr poweliul, vwucs were true and often tender, more particu- larly in the hackneyed, but still captivat- ing melody of ‘‘Home, Sweet Home.’’ Windows were opened and pennies freely showered on the street vocalist, who was accompanied in all her wanderings by a fragile infant, which she seemed to carry with especial care and tenderness, Some- times, too, in the bleak afternoons, she would be seen wending her way through mud and mire, setting her weary face against the bitter east wind, and patient- ly singing on—and motherly women coming from the gay shops and steres, where they had been purchasing Christ- mas toys for their own children, would | often stop to look at the baby’s pinched, white features with pity, and would say, while giving their spare pennies, ‘‘ Poor little thing! Is it not very ill?’ And Liz, her heart freezing with sudden terror, would exclaim hurriediy, ‘‘Oh, no, no! It is always pale; itis just a little bit weak, that’s all!’’ And the kindly ques- tioners, touched by the large despair of her dark eyes, would pass on and say no more. And Christmas came—the birth- day of the Child-Christ—a feast, the sacred meaning of which was unknown to Liz; she only recognized it as a sort of large and somewhat dull bank-holi- day, when all London devoted itself to church-going and the eating of roast beef and plum pudding.

But after Christmas had come and gone, and the metancholy days, the last beating of the failing pulse of the Old Year throbbed slowly and heavily away, the baby took upon its wan visage a strange expression—the solemn expres sion of worn-out and suffering age. Its blue eyes grew more solemnly speculative and dreamy, and after awhile it seemed to lose ali taste for the petty thinge of this world and the low desires of mere humanity. It lay very quiet in Liz’s arms; it never cried, and was no longer fretful, and it seemed to listen with a sort of mild approval to the tones of her voice as they rang out in the dreary streets through which, by day and night, she patiently wandered. By and hy the worsted bird, too, fell out of favor; it jumped and glittered in vain; the baby surveyed it with arn unmoved air of superior wisdom, justas if it had sud- deniy found out what real birds were like, and was not to be deceived into accepting so poor an imitation of nature. Liz grew uneasy, but she had no one in whom to conidde her fears. She had been very regular in her payments to Mother Mawke, and that irate lady, kept in order by ber bull-dog of a husband, had been of late very contented to let her have the child witheut further daterfer- ence. Liz knew well enough that no one in the miserable alley where she dwelt would care whether the baby were ill or not. They would tell her, ‘‘ehe more sickly the bette. for your trade.”

And so the sands in Time’s hour glass tan slowly but surely away, and it was New Year's eve. Léz had wandered about all day singing her little repertoire of ballads in the teeth of a cruel, snow- laden wind—so cruel, that people, other- wise charitabiy disposed, had shut close their doors and windows, and not even heard her voice. Thus the last span of the Qld Year had proved most unprofit- able and dreary; «be had gained no more them sipxence; ew conld she return with only that humble amount to face Mether Mawks and her vituperative fury? Her throat achei—she was very tired, and «as the night darkened from pale to deep and stariess shadows, she strolled mechanically trem the Strand so the Kkmbankment, and after walking some iittle distance she sat down in a corner close to Cleopatra's Needle—that mock- ing obelisk that has looked upen the decay ul empires, itself innpassive, and that still appeirs to say, ‘‘Pass an, ye puny generations! 1, «a mere.carven block of stone, shall outlive you aii!’’

For the first tia in all ner experience the child in her rai seemed a heavy burdem. She put aside her shawl] anu asleep, asmall, }eace.ul smile on its thin, quics face. ‘Lhorvuguly worn out herself, boc leaned her bead agsin-t the dummy stone wall behind her, and clasp.ng tae jiefant tightly to her @reas:, she also slept—the heavy, dreamless sle:» of utter tatgrue and physical exh -tion.

Suddenty,a vivid gure of light dagcled her eves: she aturte. to her feet kalt asleep, but still ins iinetively retaining the infant im ber elo<+ embrace. <A dark form, buttened bo the throat, and hola-

ing « brilliamt buli's-ere lantern, steed Sefare her, “Come, new,” said tihis personage,

“this won't do! Mowe onm!’’

““AH right!"* ebe answered, striving te speak cheeriully and raising her eyes te the ;eliceman’s good-natured counten- ance, ‘I didn’t mean to fald asleep here. l doen't Enow hew I came todo it. J must go home, of eourse,’’

‘*Of course,’’ suid the pclieeman,some- what mollified by her evident humility, anu (Guched in spite of himself by the pathos of her eyes. Then turning his | lamp more fully upon her, he continued, | “Is that a baby you've got there?’’

‘Yes,’ said Liz, half proudly, half tenderly. ‘‘ Poor little dear! it’s been ail- ing sadly—but i think it's better now than it was.’*

And, encouraged by his friendly tone, she opened the folds of ner shawl] to show him her one treasure. ‘The bull’s-eye came into still closer requisition, as the kindly guardian of the peace peered in- quiringly at the tiny bundle. He had scarcely Jooked when he started back with an exclamation :—-

‘God bless my soul!’’ he cried, ‘‘it’s dead !”’ ‘*Dead!’’ shrieked Liz, ‘‘oh, no, no!

Not dead! Don’t say so, oh, don’t say so! Oh, you can’t mean it! Oh, for God's love you say you didn’t mean it! It can’t be dead, not really deza—no, no, indesd! Oh, baby, baby! You are not dead, my pet, my angel, not dead, oh, no!”’

And breathless, frantic with fear, she felt the little thing’s hands and feet and face, kissed it wildly and called it by a thousand endearing names, in vain—in

vain! Its tiny body was already stiff and rigid; it had beem a corpse more than two hours.

The policeman coughed, and brushed his thick gauntlet glove across his eyes He was an emissary of the law, but he sd a heart. He thought of his bright-

"GET

eyeu Wile &0 home, agu Vi tne scIt- cheeked, euddling little creature that clung to her bosom and crowed with

rapture whenever he came near.

‘*Look here,’’ he said, very gently, lay- ing one hand on the woman’s shoulder as she crouched shivering against the wall, and staring piteously at the mo- tionless waxen form in her arms, ‘‘it’s no use fretting about it.’’ He paused— there was an uncomfortable lump in his throat, and he had to cough again to get it down. ‘*‘ The poor little creature’s gone —there’s no help for it. The next world’s a better place than this, you know!

And with a ‘‘Good-night,’’ uttered in accents meant tuo be oomforting, he turned away and paced on, bis measured tread echoing on the silence at first loudly, then fainter and fainter, till it altogether died away, as his bulky figure disappeared in the distance. Left to her- self, Liz rose from her crouching posture, rocking the dead child in her arms, she emiiled,

“Go half haby; Yes, together !’’

And creeping cautiously along in the shadows, she reached a flight of the broad stone steps leading down to the river.

‘*Straight homel’’ she repeated, with a beautiful, expectant look in her wild, weary eyes ‘‘ My little darling! Yes, we are both tired, we will go home! Home, sweet home! We will go !”’

Kissing the cold face of the baby corpse she held,she threw herself forward; there followed a sullen deep plash—a slight struggle—and all was over! ‘The water lapped against the steps heavily, heavily as before; the policeman passed once more, and saw to his satisfaction that the coast was clear; through the dark veil of the sky one star looked out and twinkled for a brief instant, then disappeared again. A clash and clamor of bes startled the brooding night—here and there a window was opened and figures appeared. in balconies to listen. They were ringing in the New Year— the festival of hope, the birthday of the world! But what were New Years to her who, with white, upturned face, and arms that embraced an infant in the tenacious grip of death, went drifting, drifting solemnly down the dark river, unseen, unpitied by cll those who awoke to new aopes and aspirations on that life-probation !

straight home!’’ she murmured, aloud. ‘‘Home, sweet home! Yes

’ ’ my darling, we will go home

first morning of another THE END.

A mother amd her baby can ‘have lots of fun together if they both are well and stro and hearty. Health makes them anon natured and happy; but all the-delights of motherh ere lost if the mother is weak and ailing.

Mothers of young children ‘are subject to a heavy draft upon their physical resources, and their heeith ought to be specially forti- fied, both before and after the baby is born.

The most remarkable strength-sustainer for women is Dr. Pierce’s Favorite Prescrip- tion. It imparts health and endurance di- rectly to the wrgans, appendages and nerve- cetiters concerned in maternity. It makes are perfectly safe.and nearly pain-

ess.

It protects the mother ‘from relapse; makes her capable and cheerful; insures abundant nourishment far the baby; and completely reinforces the vitality of both mother aud child.

It is the only scientific medicine devised by an educated experienced physician for the express purpose of strengthening and healing woman’s specialworganism.

The reasons why it is ‘the most perfect and successful remedy -of its kind in the world are more fully explained in one chap- ter of Dr. Pierce’s great thousand-page illus- trated book, “‘ The People’s:Common Sense Medical Adviser,’ which will be sent /ree, paper-bound for 31 one«eent stamps to pay the cost of customs and mailing only. Or handsomely «loth-bound for 50 stamps.

Mrs. F. B. Cannings, of No.gzeo Humphrey St., St. Louis, Mo., writes: “J am now a happy mother of a fine, healthy baby girl. I feel that

our * Favorite Prescription” :and ‘little ‘ Pellets‘

ave done me ‘more good than anything I have ever taken. Three months previous to my con- finement I begsn using your medicine. I took three bottles #f the ‘Prescription.’ Conse- quences were ‘lavas only in Idbor forty-five min- utes. With my first baby 0 «uffered 18 hours, then had tolose him. Heortby lived 12 hours. For two years I suffered untold agony, and had two miscarriages. The ‘Favorite Prescription ' saved both my gfild and myself”

Scott’s Emuision is not a “baby food,” but is a most excellent food fer babies who are not well nourished.

A part of a teaspoonful mixed in milk and given every three or four hours, will give the most happy results.

The cod-liver oil with the hypophosphites added, as in this palatable emulsion, not only to feeds the child, but also regulates its digestive functions.

Ask your doctor about this.

5ec. and $:,00; ail drusgists,

SCOTT & BOWNE, Chemists, Toronto

Rid QuaCwmla. Winiecto-cay fora free copy of cur big Look on Patents. We have extensite exnermence in the intricate patent lawsof 50 forcizn countr es, Send sketch. mode! or ate for fee adview. MARION & MA-

AHASAAAAHAA AA Hae AAA

‘Our North Wi :

Will be seen some beautiful vases, and funcy chinaware, suitable for christmas presents. We have also a couple of splendid China Dinner Sets left,

wnich we wil seli regardless of cost. Fancy goods sold at

reductions for two wecks at

2282224888887

T J. MORRIS

Corner of Queen and Kent Sts.

eee ¥

SPAAAAAAAAASARASASAR ¥ PEER EEE ETE SE ES FEY

:

|

Racoon Ce Eee cess pbb edeensdebbectsekl

CAPS

No 1 Natural Otter Caps. No 1 Mink Caps

No 1 Beaver Caps

No ] Persian Lamb Caps South Sta Seal Caps Cloth and Knitted Caps.

COLLARS

Persian Lamb Collar. Beaver Collar, Astrakan Collar, Nutria Collar

We have also an’ attractive line of Neckwear and woolen Underwear

Our all vool $8.00 Frieze Ulster,our own make,is a beauty

We don’t sell the aboue goods for less than they cost us, but you would be surprized were you to know how near thay

D. A. BRUCE

Examine Our Stock of all Wool Beaver Ovorcoatine

All well made and first class trimmings.

Prices $14, $16; $18 and up-

Those in need ‘of a winter overcoat, should eall and see these wonderful values before purchasing.

JOHN MACLEOD &CO

MERCHANT TAILORS.

me = SS snemena

t For the last week of 97, we will sell Boots and Shoes, at lower prices than you have been k accustomed to pay during the year. In tois way we show our appreciation f-r the \ liberat trade accorded us during the year. Low prices on Clothing—Overcoats, Ulsters, t fuits, a great sacrifise in boy’s clothing, Under- clothing, Shirts, Collars, Ties, Handkerchiefs. Caps, Braces, and everything cheaper than the cheapest, in the last week of the old year,

J.B. Macdonald&Co

NW, Experts, ‘icin: le Building, Moutreai. , eet tt ee Fn Neath hia Nt en et ten ein Veet Haley

ee PI, nig a veronds obde once kekkckhe cose

cstneretillineneteematetnanantie,

*-.