9g jba" Ttr 34f 34 34 SfcS' S' 31 Jt' St a a ic
Second Cousin arah
er re author or
"Anna jvdce. spinster." "time mate kikbt."
ETC.. ETC. : -
CHAPTER XXIII. (Continued.!
It was dark when he returned to the
to use, and he closed the shatters and
arred the door very carefully before he
at down by the fire to reflect upon his
kezt step. He had been reflecting on that
ill day, without seeing his way too clear
y to the results on which he had set his
leart a large sum of money, and a new
Lfe abroad to enjoy it in.
He would not go upstairs yet awhile
another hour would be of advantage to
bim, and he must wait. The bank at
Worcester was shut, and there would be
ko getting money till to-morrow morning
before that time came she would eijfn
the check, and remain a prisoner in
Jackson's button factory until time had
been allowed for him to cash It. That
Iras the end of the brilliant scheme which
he had planned out like an artist.
Suddenly there was a violent knocking
(t the door, and Peterson sprang up, with
is hand shaking on the back of the chair.
He reached his hand toward the candle
nd extinguished the flame, as his first
resource against an unseen enemy. Then
he crept on tiptoe toward the door.
"Who's there?"
"Let me in."
"Tom Eastbell!" ejaculated Peterson.
He opened the door, and dragged the
applicant for admittance into the house
ty the collar of his coat a man drench
td to the skin by heavy rain.
"You muddler!" shouted Pet3ron;
Hwhy couldn't you stop at Sedge Hill?
low dare you come intermeddling?
Didn't you leave it all to me?"
"Here let go my throat let a fellow
peak. What are you doing in the dark?
Where are they all? Is Sarah here?
has she signed the check?"
Peterson released his hold and locked
the front door again. Tom followed him
Into the room, and sat down shivering
by the fire. His companion and adviser
relighted the candle, and held it to his
lace.
"Why did you come?"
"For safety. Oh, Ned, I shall be hang
ed!" Tom cried. "The old woman is
Bead, and everybody thinks I have done
It Here's a blessed go for an innersent
(nan! I never touched her. upon my soul;
he died right off, bang, in the picture
gallery, and it was nothing to do with
tne. I wouldn't have thought of such
a thing."
"Dead? The old woman dead?" said
Peterson, surprised again at this avowal.
"Oh! ugh! yes," he said, shuddering
more strongly. "Her eyes opened sud
Sen; Ned, and she was off. I shall never
forget it. And then the beast of a wom
an, Hartley, came in when I screamed,
and said that I had murdered her. . I was
talking her over to make a will, when
the died that's all. Oh! let's go to Lon
ton." "Tom," said Peterson with excitement,
"you must go back. You must not leave
everything to that Culwick. The old
woman has died naturally the doctor
will prove that and you have nothing to
fear."
"Oh! haven't I? That's all you know
bout it."
"You accursed idiot! don't you see hat
fou are rich? that, Sarah Eastbell was
Only between you and a colossal fortune?
and Sarah Eastbell is dead, too."
"Sarah dead, too!" screamed Tom
Eastbell iun his new excitement; "oh,
flon't say that. It can't be."
"Hush! Keep it quiet; it is an eternal
secret between you and me; but she
sprang out of the boat suddenly last
night, they tell me, and was drowned.
In a day or two they will find her in the
Severn, and you will be heir-at-law."
"They'll say I killed the couple of
them."
"Sarah ran away from home every
body knows that and came to harm by
accident. There is nothing more natural."
"Poor Sally! She was a good sort,"
aid Tom; "and she she's dead then.
(Thank goodness it was quite an accident
for nobody meant to kill her."
"Get back in haste at any cost. Say
rou were distracted, and did not know
trhat you were doing that you have been
In search of Culwick or a doctor. Get
back."
"Suppose they take me up for killing
my grandmother; that's what I'm afraid
of."
."Get back; you are safe. Get back,
fool, to all that wealth."
Edward Peterson's excitement was
greater than Thomas Eastbell's now. He
thrust him from the house; he locked
the door after him; he tottered back to
the room.
Tom Eastbell would be rich immense
ly rich if his sister Sarah were removed
from all the troubles of this world! Tom
Eastbell in his power at his mercy for
many past offenses a weak fool whom
he could rule implicitly, and get money
quickly by.
Then, with the light in his hand, he
proceeded with a wonderful steadiness of
Step up the stairs. A strange specimen
of a villain this for he went into his
daughter's room first, and said, "Poor
Bess you have gone for good then," and
walked' out again, and up the remaining
flight, with a very sorrowful countenance.
He drew the key from his pocket, unlock
ed the door, strode in, and then stopped
suddenly a man struck, as it were, into
Itone by his amazement.
The room was empty! .
CHAPTER XXIV.
Reuben Culwick did not reach Sedge
Hill till a late hour, when the blinds
were down before every window of the
great house. He did not dream of death
at home while he had been abroad in
pursuit of the living, and, in the deep
thought born of his- baffled search, he
strode up the broad garden path without
being struck by the blank aspect of the
mansion.
"How did It occur? Tell me every
thing?" he asked, as he went Into the
picture gallery, and Hartley followed
him. The story was related, and he list
ened patiently. He heard of his aunt's
death, and of Thomas Eastbell's flight
of the suspicion which attached to Thom
as Eastbell until the doctor's arrival, and
that gentleman's belief In the natural
termination to the life and cares of the
old lady of the inquest which must fol
low her decease.
He walked tip and down the great pic
ture gallery in his old restless fashion,
planning for the morrow. Suddenly he
Quitted the gallery, and went upstairs to
Aunt Eastbell's room, at the door of
which Hartley sat; as if the poor old
woman needed protection stilL -
"Why are yon waiting here now?" he
asked the servant.
"If you please, sir, Mr. Thomas East
bell has come back again. He has been
looking for yon, and for the doctor, he
says and I thought that I would sit here
as usual."
"Where is the man?"
"In his own room, changing his clothes,
which are wet,"
"We will not disturb him. Have yon
my aunt's keys?" ..
There was a little lamp upon the brack
et, and he passed into his ' aunt's bed
chamber, Hartley remaining at her post.
It was a solemn moment in his life, which
he remembers well. It was his last duty
fo the dead woman, and to the wishes of
yesternight, before the tragedy of life
fell on them like a pall.
He opened the iron box in which the
will had been deposited, and where a
glance assured him that It lay undisturb
ed, and then he closed and locked the
box again, while the thought came to
him that it might never be of use to
Second-cousin Sarah.
"Has that man come back because he
thinks so, too?" he muttered; "is it pos
sible that this should be the end of my
father's money of yours, poor worn-out
heart, that never was made happy by its
acquisition? If I have done you wrong,
old soul, I . pray forgiveness now," he
murmured.
"Amen," said a deep voice at his side,
and he turned at the solemn response, for
which he was unprepared. A thin wom
an, clad in shabby black, stood in the
doorway looking at him.
"Lucy Jennings!" he exclaimed.
"You telegraphed to me this morn
ing," she said, advancing; "you asked me
many questions, and I have come to an
swer them in person."
"It was kind of you, Lucy," he said,
holding out his hand to her, "for I am in
great trouble?'
They went out of the room together.
Reuben Culwick locked the door, and
gave the key to Hartley, after which
Lucy and he descended to the hall, Lucy
calym and grave.
"What do you know of the Petersons?
What became of them after leaving Lon
don?" asked Reuben eagerly; "have you
a clew to their address?"
"I think I have."
"How did you find it?"
"Among my circle of penitents and of
poor mortals struggling out of crime
there are many links of life to the dark
world. I found friends to help me at
once. Patience. If Sarah Eastbell has
been lured away by these Petersons, the
clew to their haunt has been already
pointed out." j
"Heaven bless you, Lucy!"
"Probably I bring a blessing to you
it is in there."
She pointed to the door of the drawing
room, and he said eagerly as he strode
toward it:
"Sarah!"
"Not she. It Is something you lost be
fore your second-cousin, and took' as
much to heart in losing. It is something
that changed you and from which dated
your hardness, and your suspicions of
me first of all. ' It may be your own
flesh and blood, for what I know."
He left Lucy Jennings, and went with
quick steps into the drawing room, where
on the sofa lay a child asleep, a poorly
clad little girl of five years old, with
her hat lying by her side, and a tangled
mass of fair, wavy curls thrust back from
her face.
"Tots!" he cried in his astonishment.
"I met her in the streets of Worcester,
near the postofflce," said Lucy. "It was
raining hard, and she was crying because
a lady had not come to fetch her. Her
father had sent her to Worcester, she
said."
"Will she remember me?"
"It is unlikely it is impossible."
"She ' was very young when she went
away, poor Tots," said Reuben, sadly re
garding her. "Yes, I suppose it 1b im
possible." "She came with me in all confidence. I
told her that I would take her to her
friends, and she believed me."
"You are very kind, Lucy," said Reu
ben. "How is it that you do me these
good services, . and jet dislike me so
much?" k
"I dislike the pride and anger in you,'
answered Lucy, "and they have turned
me against you. I have had my great
work to think of lately not of the petty
differences of eighteen months ago. See,
the child is waking."
Reuben turned to the little girl, who
had struggled into a sitting posture on
the sofa, and was looking at them, all
eyes all blue eyes, too as Tots had.
looked at him in Hope street, years ago.
"Tots," he said, advancing to liar,
"Tots, old lady don't you know me?"
. His manner was too impetuous, and
his quick strides toward her were so"
symbolical of punishment for some of
fense which she in her ignorance had
committed, that the child sprang up and
ran to Lucy Jennings, burying her face in
the skirts of her protector.
"The child is frightened of you," said
Lucy, calmly; "let her be a while."
"Why, Tots, it's Uncle Roo," he cried,
"old Uncle Roo you know!"
The child still clung to Lucy's skirts,
and would have none of his affection. He
gave up, and walked away to the - win
dow. "You see how this kind of love lasts,"
said Lucy bitterly, "and yet you value
it so highly."
"Because it set a 'high value upon me,"
he answered quickly.
"It Is dead."
"It will live again It will come back."
"And if not," Lucy answered, "there
is your second-cousin to console you."
The opening of the door cut short the
clash of arms, and Thomas Eastbell ad
vanced into the room with a forced and
swaggering air. Tots clung still to the
skirts of Lucy Jennings, with, her face
hidden in the folds.
"Oh! you're back," he Bald to Reuben;
"of course yon know what has happened
since you've been away? I've been look
ing for you everywhere I've been run
ning after the doctors if we had a
plague In the house, I think people would
stop In It more than they do," said Tom
Eastbell. "Who's this?"
"My nam la Jennings," said Lacy.
"Oh! you're "Jennlngm, ; I have heard
of you, but I don't know that we have
ever met before. May I ask what you
want,- marm, now yon are here?" asked.
Thomas. "You'll excuse me, but since
my grandmother's death and Sally's dis
appearance and until Sally returns
I consider I am the' head of this estab
lishment." -
"I am compelled to answer your ques
tion if this is a true statement," said
Lucy. i
"Yes, I should think yon were. True
indeed that's a good one! Why, you
don't know that my poor grandmother
killed herself thinking about me," he oaid.
"She was worried she wanted to leave
me all her money and she died of dis
appointment because she hadn't time to
finish her new wilL"
He addressed Lucy Jennings, but .ho
was watching the effect of this announce
ment upon Reuben Culwick from the cor
ner of his eyes. - '
"It is heaven's mercy that your grand
mother died then," replied Lucy to him.
"I have been making Inquiries concern
ing yon to-day, and I have heard of noth
ing to your advantage. You and one Ed
ward Peterson were in this house, from
which your Bister has disappeared," Bald
Lucy. "Among my congregation there
were two or three who remembered the
Petersons, and thought they they could
be traced. We are. searching Jor them
now under the name of Jackson."
Thomas Eastbell put one hand to his
shirt collar; his throat had begun to swell
suddenly, "and he felt uncomfortable.
"Oh," he said, "if that's it you're on a
wrong "
Tots had looked round at the sound of
hia voice some moments since, but he had
not noticed her till then, and then his
voice utterly deserted him, and his eyes
protruded in amazement. He did not ask
any further questions of Miss Jennings.
The child belonged to Edward Peterson.
He and his wife had the charge of her
once, and grown tired of her, and lost her
in a Camberwell back street, where Reu
ben had found her; and Edward Peterson
had discovered her a year or so after
ward, and taken her from the Jenningses;
but he could not stop to explain that
now. A few days ago that child was
at Jackson's button factory, and she
must have come to Sedge Hill with the
news. He was caught in a trap again.
He knew it had not been safe to return,
but that fool Peterson had persuaded
him. They knew all, and were getting
him into a line by degrees; everything
might have been discovered, for what he
knew to the contrary. He must "cut it,"
at any risk.
He went Into the passage and closed
the door behind him. He took down a
hat from the tree in the hall and put it
on. It was Reuben's hat, and went over
his eyes, and was altogether a bad fit; but
the sooner he was off the better, and
where he had put his own hat he could
not recollect in the present confusion, of
his faculties.
He went on tiptoe to the front door,
and drew back the heavy bolts and the
big lock. He opened the door and let
in the wind and rain and. Sarah East
bell! Yes, it was his sister, with a. shawl
over her hair, and her face, white and
wild, peering from it. She had -we
back she knew all he was done for!
"Tom, you villain!" she shrieked forth,
at first sight of him.
Thomas Eastbell went down on his
knees at the same moment as Reuben
came from the drawing room.
"Oh, Reuben! take care of me," Sarah
murmured,' as she went fearlessly to the
friendly .shelter of his arms; "I have no
one else."
"She could never take care of herself,""
muttered the inflexible Lucy, as she fol
lowed Reuben Culwick into the hall.
It was as Mary Holland had said, and
Sarah Eastbell was back in her. own
house.
(To be continued.)
Man Is a Natural Bluffer.
A man in a big department store was
buying his wife a sealskin sacque.
First she tried on a $250 one. The
man smoothed It across the back and
said:
"Well, I never examined one of these
things before close up; and this looks
all right to me."
Next his -wife tried on a 300 sacque.
He smoothed It across the shoulders
and said:
"I can't tell the difference between
'em. Can't see a particle of difference
between 'em."
"Oh, my, yes! A closer pile," said
the saleswoman.
"No difference, to my mind," Insisted
the man. ,
He bought the $250 coat, and after he
was gone the saleswoman said:
"Nine coats out of ten are bought
as that one was. -Nearly every man in
sists on doing the purchasing himself,
and always he says, when he has
reached bis limit as regards price,
"Can't see any difference between this
coat and that dearer one there.' If I
had shown a $i,000 sacque to our friend
he'd have Insisted that it looked the
same as the $250 one to him. Men are
such bluffers. They bluff, even them
selves. It would be a satisfaction,
though, just to hear one man say that
he perceived the superiority of the more
expensive coat, but didn't care to go
so high In price." Philadelphia Record.
His Explanation
Why are people who buy gold bricks
invariably farmers?" asked the man
who assumes superiority. -
"I dunno," answered Mr. Corntossel,
"unless it's because farmers are the
only folks nowadays who have money
enough to make It worth while for
sharpers to bother with 'em." Wash
ington Star.
Almost Rlarht.
"What do you know about this case?"
asked the lawyer.
"Nothing," replied the witness. "Tm
the expert."
Subsequently his testimony proved
conclusively that he knew less than
nothing. Chicago Tribune.
" A Suapect.
She You didn't stay long In London.
He No, I couldn't stand It Over
there everybody knew me for an Amer
ican right away. Here, In New' York,
no one ever suspects It Smart Set
Milton sold his copyright of Para
dise Lost for $72, In three payments,
and finished his life In obscurity.
t
t
FAVORITES
:
I'TtTTttf 'F T V T T '1' T l"t 'V f
The Mistletoe Bough.
The mistletoe hung in the castle hall.
The holly branch shone on the old oak
wall:
And the baron's retainers were blithe and
- gay, : v
And keeping their Christmas holiday,
The baron beheld with a father's pride
His beautiful child, young Lovell's bride;
While she with her bright eyes seemed
to be
The star of this goodly company.
"I'm weary of dancing now," she cried;
"Here tarry a moment I'll hide, I'll
hide!
And, Loveil, be sure theu'rt first to trace
The clew to my secret lurking place."
Away she ran and her friends began
Each tower to search, and each nook to
scan;
And young Lerell cried, "O, where dost
thou hide? .
I'm lonesome without thee, my own dear
bride."- -
They sought her that night, and they
sought her next day, '
And they sought, her in vain when a
week passed away;
In the highest, the lowest, the loneliest
spot,
Yonng Loveil sought wildly but found
her not
And years flew by, and their grief at last
Was told as a sorrowful tale long past;
And when Loveil appeared, the children
cried:
'See! the old man weeps for his fairy
bride."
At length an oak chest, that had long
lain hid,
Was found in the castle they raised the
lid,
And a skeleton form lay mouldering
there
In the bridal 'wreath of that lady fair!
O, sad was her fate! in sportive jest
She hid from her lord in the old oak
chest.
It closed with a spring! and, dreadful
doom,
The bride lay clasped in her living
tomb!
Thomas Haynes Bayly.
"Only Waitinr."
Only waiting till the shadows
Are a little longer grown.
Only waiting till the glimmer
Of the day's last beam is flown;
Till the night of earth is faded
From the heart, once full-of day;
Till the stars of heaven are breaking
Through the twilight soft and gray.
Only waiting till the reapers
Have the last sheaf gathered home,
For the summer time is faded,
And the autumn winds have come.
Quickly, reapers! gather quickly
The last ripe hours of my heart.
For the bloom of life is withered,
And I hasten to depart.
Only waiting till the angels
Open wide the mystic gate,
At whose feet I long have lingered,
Weary,, poor and desolate.
Even now. I hear the footsteps.
And their voices far away;
If they call me, I am waiting,
Only waiting to obey.
Only waiting, till the shadows
Are a little longer grown,
Only waiting till the glimmer
Of the day's last beam Is flown. -Then
from out the gathered darkness,
Holy, deathless stars shall rise,
By whose light my soul shall gladly
Tread its pathway to the skies.
Frances Laughton Mace.
THE PENALTY OF WEALTH.
Millionaires Whose Uvea Are Made
Miserable by Cranks and Promoter.
Three men in the Wall street dis
trict. New York, receive requests in
the course of a year to back schemes
the financing of which would break
the Bank of England or bankrupt the
government of the United States. They
are John W. Gates, J. Pierpont Mor
gan and Edwin Hawley. These propo-
jsals run through the whole gamut of
I human Ingenuity, from a new method
of scratching matches to the promo
tion of a South American revolution
or the prevention of earthquakes and
other seismic disturbances. They pour
in by letter and persons from all quar
ters of the globe.
These things are the penalty of spec
tacular wealth. They are some of the
troubles that beset the man who makes
his millions with a blare of trumpets
and under the glare of limelights.
Mr." Gates has been hounded so by
importunate persons that he hardly
dares set foot in the street He was
Importuned in restaurant after restau-
.rant, until In self-protection he had a
dining-room fitted up In his office and
there he now takes his luncheon. Mr.
Morgan has been forced to adopt the
same method.
I One of the things that bothers Mr.
Morgan most, although It costs him no
money. Is the camera with a fiend be
hind It If there Is one thing he hates
more than all others it is being photo-
tographed, and he has become an
adept In springing from the door of
Ms office building Into a coupe and
banging the door behind bim . It was
he who was the recipient of the pro-'
posal that he finance a scheme for
making earthquakes Impossible. Just
after the eruption of -Mount Pelee a
Frenchman wrote him, most earnestly
asking his help and assuring him there
were millions of dollars In the plan.
Scarcely a day passes but some man
writes to him of the unearthing of a
priceless painting;' disfigured by time,
but bearing beyond all doubt traces of
the work of some dead master. An
other class of men whose palms itcfi
for some of the Morgan money are
the book agents, not only the Inoffen
sive one who have editions da luxe to
sell, but the ones who are preparing
volumes of biographies of the moneyed
men of thecountry in whica the per
son approached may have his history
written up at so many thousand dol
lars a page. There Is also the biblio
maniac, who fastens himself upon Mr.
Morgan to dispose of some ancient
tome, colored In red by a monk and
In yellow by Father Time.
Mr. Gates has had opportunities to
place himself in the class with Santos
Dumont as a navigator of the air and
to become a second Castro in the for
mation of a new South American re
public Three men with theories of
airships who needed only money to
make them fly have offered Mr. Gates
a . handsome share In ventures if he
would produce the capital for con
struction.
Mr. Hawley, who was a protege ef
Collis P. Huntington, has been be
sieged more by Western promoters be
cause he came from the Pacific coast
Offers of Interests In mines In ' the
Western States and In South America,
Mexico and Europe have been cast at
him as if the whole world were a
Klondike and he' the first miner on
the ground.
THE CITY BOY.
Why He la Generally Xieft in tae Rear
by the Country Boy.
That the country Is the better place
to raise boys Is the teaching of all ex
perience. Go over the list of the men
who have done things In your city. A
large majority of them are country
bred. Why?
The boy wherever you find him
needs wide spaces for the development
of the vital forces that are In him.
He instinctively covets elbow room,
'ine boyish swath Is a wide one. He
is necessarily noisy. He bubbles over
for the same reason a tea kettle does.
He Is full of spontaneity and runs
over. In the city he "is cribbed, ca
bined and confined. He has little
chance to let himself out What won
der the roundly developed country lad
beats him to the goal.
Poor city lad. Here Is the picture
Secretary Shaw gives of him, in a re
cent address: , "The boy Is the most
valuable product of society, but In the
city he Is not fairly treated. He lacks
a chance for the free play of his na
ture. His parents seldom give him a
gymnasium or a shop or even a room
of his own. They are afraid he will
spoil the furniture. It is too expen
sive to let him do as he pleases. . So
they give him money and let him go to
the streets which are often an open
gate te hell." The picture is true.
Poor city lad. There are no wide
echoing fields or shady woods where
he may wander at his will, giving full
play and proper vent to the life forces
that run riot in his veins. Te him
there Is no call of the wild. For him
there Is no company and touch of Na
ture which the country boy knows
and feels.
At home they say of the city boy
that he Is rude and awkward and de
structive. What wonder! The only
wonder is he doesn't explode. He is
all boy. That's why he is worth rais
ing! Expressions ox energy In .the boy
spell Force. He has in him the mak
ing of a man. Why scold him and
spoil his temper for being what he is?
Why spoil him by trying to make him
what he Is not?
An unspoiled boy city or country
is about the finest thing on two legs.
He Is affectionate under his. vest He
Is sympathetic If you know how to
reach his sympathies. He Is honest
And frank. And above all, he stands
for fair play. Later on, as a man, he
may lose many of these virtues, but as
a boy he Is admirable.
Give the city boy his chance. Let
him go to the country at every oDDor-
ftunity. Let him build a shop in the
back yard or In the cellar if he choos
es. Give him a room of his own. Of
course the room will be topsy turvey
betimes. Of course. He is not a young
gentleman. He Is a boy, God bless
him. Let him bring his comrades
borne with him. Let them together
romp" and raise cain. Give the city
boy a vent The country-raised boy
has beaten the city-raised boy because
he has had a better chance. Des
Moines News.
Mating a Good Citizen.
A 13-year-old Italian boy lately pre
pared an essay on the duties of citizen
ship, for a club in New York. Among
the rules which be laid down are the
following:
"If I want to be a good citizen I
must be true to my country, true to
my state and true to my city. If I do
not vote I will not be doing my duty.
I must have my own judgment to vote
for the man I think is best qualified
for the office for which he has been
nominated. If I don't I won't be doing
my duty. I must not let anybody
bribe me to vote for a man I think not
fitted for an office. It will also be my
duty to be industrious and self-supporting,
so as not to be a burden and
a nuisance to the public. I must pay
taxes, so that the government can be
maintained and the officers of the gov
ernment paid, because the government
Is for my good. When it is necessary
I must help to maintain order and al
ways be ready for public service, and
in case of war serve my country. I
should know the history of my country
and be an Intelligent reader and close
observer of current events."
RuMfa's Purchases.
Russia bought from the United
States In 1903 nearly $20,000,000 worth
of goods, which is double the average
for previous years, and sold the United
States nearly $ll,OOt,000 worth, which
Is an Increase of II) per cent over pre
vious years.
We glre a man credit for being
level-headed if he Isn't above our level.
Ayers
If your blood Is thin and im
pure, you are miserable all the
time. It is pure, rich blood
that invigorates, strengthens,
refreshes. You certainly know
Sarsaparilla
the medicine that brings good
health to the home, the only
medicine tested and tried for
60 years. A doctor's medicine.
I aw my Hfe. without doubt, to Ayer
Raraapartlla. It I the moat wonderful medi
etas in the world for nerrousneu. If 7 eare la
permanent, and I cannot thank too enoorh."
Mas. Diua HoWklx, Newark, N. J.
fl.M a bottle. j. o. ATM ..
Poor Health
rLaxative doses of Aver 'a Pills each
nignt greauy aia tne sarsapariiia
Allen Mortals.
Think for a moment of the narrow
limits of our knowledge! Sixteen hun-,
dred millions of featherless bipeds,
more or less, are picking up a living,
eating and drinking, marrying and giv
ing in marriage, on this pretty planet
of ours; of what infinitesimal propor
tion can you really unveil the secrets
and gauge the virtues and the happi
ness How many people do you know
intimately enough to say whether theis
lot is, on -the whole, enviable or the
reverse? Every human "being is a for
eign kingdom to every other. We make
a short excursion into their minds; we
touch at a port here and there; and we
say glibly that we know them intimate
ly. We know not how many dark cor
ners are carefully hidden away from
all strangers, and what vast provinces
have never been reached in our most
daring travels. How, then, can we
judge one another? Such utter ignor
ance of our neighbor's thoughts and
motives should make us wondrous
charitable.
A Heart Story.
Folsom, 8. Dak. In these days
when so many sudden deaths are re
ported from Heart Failure and various
forms of Heart Disease, it will be good
news to many to learn that there is a
never failing remedy for every form "of
Heart Trouble.
Mrs. H. D. Hyde, of this place, was
troubled for years with a pain in her
heart, which distressed her a great deal.
She had tried many remedies but had
not succeeded in finding anything that
would help her until at last she began
a treatment of Dodd's Kidney Pills and
this very soon relieved her and she has
not had a single pain or any distress in
the region of the heart since. She
says: "I cannot say too much in
praise of Dodd's Kidney Pilrs. They
are the greatest heart medicine I have
ever used. I was troubled for over
three years with a severe pain in my
heart, which entirely disappeared after
a short treatment of Dodd's Kidney
Pills."
TJp-fo-Date Magazine Work.
Hack Writer How would you like
an article on Solomon?
Magazine Editor First rate, if you
can only furnish a complete set of por-
Journal.
How's This?
We offer One Hundred Dollars Reward for
any case of Catarrh that cannot be cured by
Hall'B Catarrh Cure.
F. J. CHENEY & CO., Props., Toledo, O.
We, the undersigned, have known F. J.
Cheney for the last 15 years, and believe him
perfectly honorable in all business transac
tions and financially able to carry out any ob
ligations made by their firm.
W est & Tan ax. Wholesale Druggists, Toledo, O.
Walding, Kimnan & Mabvin, Wholesale Drug
gists, Toledo, O.
Hall's Catarrh Cure is taken Internally, act
Ing directly upon the blood and mucous sur
faces of the system. Price 75c. per bottle.
Bold by all Druggists. Testimonials free.
Hall's Family fills are the best.
Something Alike.
"Why Is a kiss over the telephone
like a straw hat?" .
"Because neither one is felt" re-'
marked Mr. Wise.
And then the old maid was heard
to remark that current events were
certainly shocking. Brooklyn Eagle.
TRACK
MARKi
For Rheumatism
Neuralgia Sprains
Lumbago Bruises
BacKache Soreness
Sciatica. Stillness
Uso the old reHablo remedy
St Jacobs Oil
Frlee S5e. and 50c
ClilES WHERE ALL ILLl FAIL
Best Cough Syrup. Tastes Good.
- In rima. Sola by drmnrlsta.
si RT
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