Image provided by: University of Oregon Libraries; Eugene, OR
About Bohemia nugget. (Cottage Grove, Or.) 1899-1907 | View Entire Issue (Feb. 21, 1902)
CHAPTKIt X. Long lnce tlic moon linn mounted the hcnvcns: now It Is at its full. A myriad stars keep company with it, the hush of sleeping nature pays homage to it. Sol emnly, slowly, from the old belfry tower the twelve strokes of midnight hare Bounded on the air. Vera, rising cautiously from beside Grl sclda, who Is, ns usual, sleeping the sleep of the just, slips gently on to the bare white across which the moonbeams are traveling delicately. Sleep hns deserted her. Weary at last of her efforts to lose herself nnd her hate ful thoughts in unconsciousness, she de termines to rise and try what study may do for her. She steps lightly across the room, opens the door and speeds with all haste over the corridor, gaunt and ghost ly in the dim light, down the grand old staircase, and enters a room on the left of the library, where one day she made the discovery that comfort was to bo found. Striking a match, she lights n lamp upon a side table and proceeds to exam ine the book shelves. Taking duwu one that she thluks will please her, Vera kneels xipon one of the deep window seats, looks outward, trying to pierce the soft and scented gloom. The opening of the door rouses her. It Is quite an hour later an hour forgotten by her as she read. With n sudden start he looks 1111. turning her face over her shoulder to the door, to see who can be In at this unholy hour. Her heart grows cold within her as she sees Scnton Dysnrt! In silence they stare at each other. Vera, indeed, so great is her nstonish- mont, forgets to rise, but sits mere curl ed up among her furs, with n little frozen look of fear and detestation on her per fect face. "I have disturbed you," says Seaton at last, breaking the spell, and speaking in a distinctly unnatural tone. "I did hope I should have found pri vacy somewhere, at some hour," says she, coldly. "I came for a book," says he, contrite ly. "Now that I am here, will you per mit me to say a few words In my own defense?" "Oh, defense!" says she, with undis guised scorn. "Certainly. I would prove to you how entirely you have wronged me," says he, firmly. "I acknowledge that once my father expressed a wish that I should marry you," coloring darkly, "always provided you were willing to accept me; and I" slowly "acceded to that wish." "But why, why?" demands she, flash ing round at him. "I do not wonder at your question. It seems Impossible there should be a rea son," replies ne, coiuiy; tor ever since the first hour we met you have treated me with uniform unfriendliness, I had almost said discourtesy." "There is a renson, nevertheless," says she, hotly. She has come a step or two nearer to him, and her large, lustrous eves, uplifted, seem to look defiance Into his. "Your reason I can fathom but your father's that, I confess, puzzles me. Why should he, whose god Is money, choose the penniless daughter of the brother he defrauded to be " "Defrauded?" Interrupts Seaton, with a frown. "Call it what you will," with an ex pressive gesture of her hand "undertake his defense, too; but the fact remains that the iniquitous deed that gave to your father what should have been ours was undoubtedly drawn up by my uncle. I have heard all about it a hundred times. Your fnther hardly denied It to mine when last writing to him. His taking us 'home to live with him was, I sup pose, a sort of reparation. To marry me to you, and thus give me back the prop erty he stole Is that a reparation, too?" She Is as pale as death, and the bands that cling to the back of the chair near her are trembling. Hut her lips are firm and her eyes flashing. It occurs to Sea ton, gazing at her in breathless silence, that if she could have exterminated him then nnd there by a look she would have done It. "You degrade yourself and me when you talk like that," says Seaton, who is now ns pale as she is. "For heaven's sake, try to remember how abominably you misrepresent the whole thing. If my father had a freak of this kind in his head a desire to see you married to his only son surely there was no discourtesy to you contnlned in such a desire. It wns rather you must see that a well-meant arrangement on his part. It wns more," boldly. "He loves me; in wishing to sec you my wife he paid you the highest compliment he could. I defy you to re gard It in any other light." "You plead his cause well It Is your own," says she, tapping the back of the chair with taper, ungry fingers. "Why take the trouble? Do you think you can bring mo to view the case In a lenient light? Am I likely to forget that you you aided and abetted your father in try ing to force me into this detested mar riage?" "Piny put that marriage out of your head," says he, blowly. "You have tuken It too seriously. I assure you I would nut marry you now if you were as will ing as you are unwilling. I can hardly put It stronger." "When my grandfather left this prop erty to your father," she says, slowly, "he left It purposely unentuiled. Your father, thin, were you to cross his wishes, could lenve you, ns I have been left, penniless. To uvold that, you would fall In with any of his views. You would even so far sacrifice yourself ns to mar ry mo!" Oh, the contempt In her tone! There is a long pause. Then Seaton, striding forward, seizes her by botli arms and turns her more directly to the light. The grasp of Ills hands Is ns a vise, and -rufterwurd It seemed to her that he had, Involuntarily, as It were, shaken her slightly, "How dare you?" he says, In a low. concentrated tone. She can see that Ids face Is very white, nnd that It Is with difficulty he restrains himself; she Is con scious, too, perhaps, of feeling a little frightened. Then he puts her quickly from him and turns away. "Pshaw, you are not worth It!" he says, his manner full of the most intense self-contempt. . CHAPTKll XI. A gleam of moonlight coining through the open window puts the lamp to shnme, nnd compels Vern's attention. How sweet, how henienly fair the gar den seems, wrapped in those pale, cold beams! She can see It from where she sits on the deep, cushioned sent of the old-fnshtoned window, nnd n longing to rise and go Into It, to feel the tender night-wind bentiug on her burning fore head, takes possession of her. Ha tell I ml' mi n IIl-Iu shawl to cover the I evening gown she wears, she steals, care fully ns might a guilty soul, by Urlscldn 's bed, along the dusky corridor, down the staircase, and past the servants' quar ters, where a light under Mrs. Crunch's door warns her that that remorseless foe has as yet refused to surrender herself to slumber. A small door leading into the garden Is close to this, and moving swiftly up the narrow stone passage that brings her to It she opens the door, nnd so closing it after her that she can regain the house nt any moment, she turns to find herself alone In the exquisite perfumed silence of the night. How long she thus gives herself up to the sweet new enjoyment of life she hardly knows until she hears the ancient belfry clock telling the midnight hour. It startles her. Has she indeed been here so long? What if Griselda should wake and be alarmed for her? She moves quickly In the direction of the house, and at last, regaining the inner garden, begins to think her pleasant so journ at an end. She has n eared the shrubberies and In voluntarily turns her glance their way as they lie upon her left; Involuntarily, too, she seeks to pierce the darkness that en velops them, when she stops, and presses her hand convulsively to her breast. Who Is It what is It, moving there, in the mysterious gloom? "Don't be frightened. It is I, Seaton," says a most unwelcome voice. "Ah!" she says. She is angry bevond doubt, nnd still further angered by the knowledge that there is more of relief than coldness in the simple exclamation. "I had no idea you were here at all." she says, faintly, after a pause that has grown sufficiently long to be awkward. I am afraid I have startled you. If I had known I should not, of course, have come here." i "You make It very hard for me," she says, with a touch of passionate impa tience. "That is unjust," says be, roused In turn. "To make your life easier Is uiy heart's desire." "Are you succeeding, do you think? Does It," with gathering scorn, "make my part smoother, when you compel me to see that you stay away, or only come here nt hours inconvenient to you, be cause because of me?" She turns aside shurply, and walks a step or two away from him. Somehow at this Instant, the growing chill of the enrly night seems to strike more sharply on her senses, and a shiver not to be suppressed stirs her whole frame. "You are cold," he exclaims, coming up to her with a hasty stride. "What madness It is, your being out at this hour! Come, come back to the house." She agrees silently to this proposition, and follows him across the grass to the small oaken door thut hod given her egress only to find It barred against her! Seaton, having tried it, glances at her In mute dismay. "Crunch must have fastened it, on her way to bed. The bolt Is drawn," says he, slowly. "Do you mean that I can't get In?" asks she, as If unable to credit so terri ble an announcement. "Ob, I dare say it cdn't be so bad as that," hastily. "Only," hesitating, as If hardly knowing how to explain, "the front door Is of course locked and chain ed, and the servants, with the exception of Crunch, all asleep at the top of the house; a late arrangement of my father's, as the original servants' quarters lie be low. I n m afraid, therefore, that if we knocked forever, It would have no effect. However, I can try to do something, but In the meantime you must not stay out here In the cold." "You may feel It cold. I don't," re turns she .perversely. "Not so long as the moonlight lasts, shall I find It lonely either. I," raising her unfriendly, beau tiful eyes to his "I assure you I shall be quite happy out here, even though I stay till the day dawns and the doors aro open ngaiu." "'Happy!'" As he repeats her word he looks ut her with a keen scrutiny. "A word out of place, surely; given the best conditions, I hardly dare to believe you could ever be 'happy at Greycourt." "Happy or unhuppy," says she, with quick resentment, her mind being dis tressed by this awkwurd fenr of having to pass the night from under any roof, "surely It can bo nothing to you! Win affect mi Interest In one who is as hate ful to you us I am?" A little fire has fulleu Into her tone, nnd there 1b ill-suppressed contempt In the eyes she lifts to his. Perhaps he Is driven by It Into an anger thut leads to his betrayal. "Hateful to me! Do you think you are that, Vera?" says he, In n low tone, but one full of fierce and sudden passion passion long suppressed. "Do you hon estly believe thut?" His manner Is al most violent, nnd ns he speaks he catches both her hands in his, and crushes them vehemently ugulust his breast, "I would to heaven," he says, miserably, "that that were so!" I As If stupefied by surprise, Vera stands 1 motionless, her hands lying passively In 1 his. She Is nwnre that he Is luoklug nt her, with a new, wild, strange expression In his eyes, but n horrible sense of being powerless to resist him numbs nil her being. And suddenly, us she iftruggloa with herself, ho bends over her, and without warning lifts her liund-i uud presses warm, fervent kisses un the small, cold hands. Then she Is aroused Indeed fmii her odd lethargy, and by n sharp movement wrenches herself free. "Don't." she cries, faintly; "It Is lie sulTcrnhlc! 1 eniiuot bear It! Have you no sense of honor left Her tone calms him, but something within him revolts against the Idea of apology, lie loves her let her know It lie will not go buck from that, thuugh her scorn slay him. "There Is nothing dishonorable," ho says, steadily. "I love you; I am glnd you know it. Despise me If you can, re ject me ns I know you will, I nm still the better for the thought that I have laid bare to you nil my heart. And now you cannot stay here, he goes on quick ly, ns though fearing to wait for her next words; "the night Is cold and damp. There Is the summer house over there, pointing In its direction; "go nnd rest there, till I call you." Vein hastens to the shelter suggested nnd sinking down upon the one seat It contains, u round rustle chair In the Inst stage of decay, gives way to the over powering fatigue that for the last hour has been oppressing her. Ucliictuntly she does this, and quite unconsciously. Obstinately determined to light sleep to the Inst, she presently succumbs to that kindly tyrant, and falls Into one of tin most delicious slumbers she has ever yet eujoycu. I low long It lasts she never knows, but when next she opens her eyes with u nervous start, the first flush of rosy dawn is Hooding hill nnd valley ami seu. Nunc- thing lying at her feet disturbs all her preconceived fancies. It must have slip' ped from her wheu she rose. Itegarth Ing It more earnestly, she nckuowli'dgcs unwillingly that It Is Seatou's coat, n light gray one. When she wns asleep, lost to all knowledge of friend or foe, then he hud come nnd placed that coat across her shoulders. Her eyes are large nnd languid with sleep broken nnd unsatisfied, her soft hnlr lies milled on her low, broad bruw. She looks timidly, nervously, around her as one expecting anything but good; her whole air is shrinking, and her whole self altogether lovely. To the young man standing In his shirt sleeves, half hidden among the laurels and looklug nt her, with admlrntlou gen erously mixed with melancholy In his glance, she seems the very Incarnation of all things desirable. He presses her band nnd hurries her over the short, dewy grass Into the shrubberies that form an effectual screen from all observation of those In the gar den beyond, nnd so on until they come to the smnll oaken doorway through which she had passed last night, and which bus proved more foe than friend. Once inside the longed-for portnl, her first Impulse Is a natural one; It is to run as fast as her feet can carry her to her own room. (To be continued.) COACHMAN KEPT HIS DIGNITY. Incidentally Ills Kmployer ' nd I1U Wnr In a Koiinilnbout I'tmliloii. This Is one of the ninny stories that are flouting about town concerning a mnu very well known In the capital, who Is spending the summer In Kug l.nid, says the Washington Post. He has taken a country bouse over there for the season, and Is living a grand seigneur with n troop of dear only knows how many servants. These English servants, so their American master has discovered, arc quite un like the menials to whom be Is accus tomed In his own country. They are specialists. Each one of them Is hired for some one particular work, nnd pro fessional etiquette forbids then) to trespass on each other's preserves. How strictly they keep them each to his own work the American did not know till, sauntering Idly out of the house one day, he espied a watering can, which had been left by n gardener at a little distance from the mansion on the edge of the ilrlve. It occurred to him thnt It would be amusing to play at being a gardener. He would water the flowers hlmse'.f. So, calling to a man servant, who happened to be passing, he bade him fetch the water ing can. The man straightened him self up nnd touched his cap. "Hog pardon, sir," lie said, In a tone of respect not unmixed with surprise, "I'm the eoachmnn, sir." "All right," answered the American; "bring me that can." "Beg pardon, sir," repented the man, "but I'm the coachman, sir." "Well, well," said the American. "I know you're the coachman. Hrlng me the can." The coachman touched his cap again, and repeated his former remark. IIght dawned on the Amerlcnn, "Oh," said he, "you're the conchmnn, nre you? Well, eoachmnn, you go round to the stables nnd have my four-ln-hand brought round nt once." The coachman saluted and walked nwuy. The coach nnd four drew up at the door a few minutes later. The mas ter climbed In. "Now," said he, "drive me to that watering can." The order was oleyed. The horses paused a hundred yards down tho drive. "Get down nnd hand me the enn, now," ordered tho master. A moment later he was contentedly watering the (lowers. He hud the can, the coachman's dignity hnd been pre served, und all was well. ?o Hook of IfHtruc'lona. Wenry Wntklns-I seo hero In tho paper about how to git on a trolley car nnd off. Hungry HIgglns I bet you won't seo no piece nbout how to git on nnd off of freight cars. Thnt kind of thing comes by nut lire, er It 'don't come at all. Indianapolis Journal. WASHINGTON'S BIRTHDAY. rallK observance of the birthday anniversary of George Washington has be come more n national tribute to the spirit of patriotism than a memorial - to a personality. The name of Washington H linked Indlisoluhly with the revolution out of which sprung the republic of the United States, hut the union of the man and the event U so closo that they nre practically liitereluuigenbla In the thought of the present time nnd will become more so ns the years roll on. The character of Washington happily lends Itself readily to till phase of Idealization. There were no peaks of pre-eminent genius In his equipment ns n man and conversely no vales of Insignificance, and this admirable and iinlquo equipoise of power nnd attainment qunlllied him for the conspicuous plnce ho occupies In the hearts of the American people. The scrutiny of careful historians into the details of hit life nnd the conclusions of students of his character have, been unable to frame n more comprehensive or exact expression of the sum of his individuality than that contained In the familiar lines First In War, First In Pence, First in the henrts of his countrymen. These words have become so common because of frequent, and often flippant, utterance, that their deep significance lias become blunted by their adnpted ap plications. Washington was first In war, anil In n war that won the freedom of this nation, because he achieved the distinction through n demonstration of ex ceptional courage, fortitude and persistence. He wns proof against obstacles, defeats, the heaviest blows of his adversaries, the disrupting plots of his Jcnloiis enemies nt home, the strongest combinations of opposing factors of every kind, because he kept before him always the inestimable prize of a nation's liberty which ultimate victory would achieve. He wns first In pence because his unconquera ble spirit In war was no less conspicuous than the wisdom ami prudence of his counsel in matters of state, ami because he cemented the trust of his fellow men which he had won on the field of battle by a display of rare statesmanship when peace settled over the Intnl. He was first In the hearts of his countrymen and hns always been first because of the sterling honesty of his nature In all things, which resisted the most subtlo nnd specious temptation) and remained pure nnd uncorrupted to the end. There hnve undoubtedly been many greater generals than Washington nnd many greater statesmen and men who havo won a greater popular following, but there have been few men In history who hnve developed n more conspicuous harmony of these three distinguishing marks of greatness. The lack of conspicu ous superiority In any one trait, however, hns given rise during the century to many discussions as to the real grandeur of Washington's Individuality. He has been represented ns everytlng from "a rather commonplace inn n made prominent by the force of circumstances" to "one of the supremely great characters of the world's history." Ills critics have ven gone so fur as to ascribe the popular admiration merely to a "conventional ncqulescence" In n patriotic fancy. It Is well that such a dissimilarity of views has been expressed, because they hnve re sulted In clear-cut comparisons which have supported the extreme measure of praise nceorded to Washington. The solemn, well-weighed verdict of the historians has fixed forever the sta bility and justice of Washington's fame. He Is worthy tho place of patron saint of the patriotism of the nation. FROM WASHINGTON'S GARMENT. IIU Wulstcnnt IluttotiH Mode Into cuir-iin t tmiH. A pair of pearl and gold cuff buttons which in the form of waistcoat buttons were owned by George Washington und worn by him upon the occasion of his In auguration as President nnd also at his marriage to .Martha Dnmlrldge Custls, nro the valued possession of Prof. Loo- nldas Polk Wheat of Virginia, now liv ing In Washington. These modest but greatly cherished relics of Washington are among the few personal belongings of Gen. Washington that have not been iMiur. wheat's valued iiiclics. purchased or otherwise obtained by tho government. Prof. Wheat Is a member of ono of tho oldest families In Clark County, Virginia, where' resides a colony of descendants of the Washington family. Tho buttons were presented to Prof. Whcut by Henry Lewellyn Dangcrfield Lewis, great-great-nephew of Gen. Washington. Mr. Lewis was Prof. Wheat's" closest friend nnd neighbor from 1878 until tho tlmo of the former's death, several years ago, says tho New York Herald. If was when Mr. Lewis' was arranging for tho transfer to tho United States gov ernment of something 1 1 lie $10,000 worth of Washington relics, which hnd been purchased by it special act of Congress, thnt Prof. Wheat enmo Into possession of tho buttons. During the process of packing Mr. Lewis, with characteristic generosity, Invited his neighbor to select from tho collection some souvenir. Prof. Wheat selected two buttons from Wash ington's waistcoat und hud them mndo Into cuff buttons. Prof. Wheat obtained from Mr. Lewis nnd his wife n written guaranty thnt tho buttons had been tho prnporty of Georgo Washington and had been worn by him on several state occasions, notably at his Inauguration as the first President of the United States, and also at his wed ding. The buttons are of unique design, and In diameter about the size of a silver half dollar. Kvlili-nce of their authen ticity Is engraved on tho reverse side of the buttons, and reads as follows: "I.eo. P. W. from II. L. D. L. Property of Georgo Washington." Washington Wns Wealthy. One Is not npt In these days to remem ber thnt In this early period Washington made himself one of the largest landhold ers In the country, nor that when ho died ho wns worth over hnlf n million dollars. Yet we find thnt he bequeathed to his heirs tho following acreage, with values attached: Acres. 2.4M Wnrth.1 Acres. Worth. t 20.0111 , 117.110 , non.ooi) , II.3V8 . 1.401 , 0.000 .J (1.1IIO 400 . 2I.H10 0,744 ii.ru i 1,111) 11 1.000 7,l'0 2,230 H.720 .171 2t0 400 11.42l) 3.1:00 axon 3,051 15.231 1,111) '.MINI D,ooo 10.000 Land In Washington worth $M.i:i2, and other lands not enumerated worth IfOJOO, The total value of his estate was placed at $.1:10,000. The .'100 acres of Vir ginia land, which he valued at $0,(1(1(1 In 17ili). sold In 18.H) for $l'J0,000, one evi dence of tho changes In values In that country he served so well. Kvcn tho mnrrlngc of Washington wns consistent with tho thrifty habits that marked all his doings. Tho widow Cus tls milled to his estate $100,000, besides giving him a helpmeet just as prudent in her financial transactions ns was he. After the marrlnge, nnd their settlement at Mount Vernon, "nine miles from any church" or social Initiation, Washington gavo himself wholly to tilling of tho soli and quiet service In tho Virginia Legisla ture. Hnd Xo Personal Ambition. Throughout Washington's career In tho Revolution It will bo seen that ho had lit tle opportunity for personal distinction ns n commander. Ho was nn unlucky general; fortune did not seem to smllo upon him and ho had moro defeats thnn victories. Long Island, White Plains, Ilrnndywlnc, Gcrmnntown all theso were defeats; somo of them disastrous. Monmouth wns little moro than a drawn battle, while to offset these, Trenton und Princeton, while brilliant In conception nnd execution and grent In effect, wero so smnll In tho numbers engaged thnt they amounted to little more than suc cessful skirmishes. And besides they wero with Ilesslnus and not with Itrlllali regulnrs, Yorktown was. Indeed, a great und crowning success, but It wns won with superior numbers and tho honors had to bo divided with tho French. I 1 IIISIDE IstW Or A Kr.MAItKAIIl.ll CASH NOW 1'UM.ISIt. CI) I Oil NIC MUST TIME, M l MHmW. Million Ntiileiiiel.TelllncIo the llesl or Iter It imw ledge hi' 'n tilileli l.rd to Urn 'I rouble. Tlio following liu'l". yH '' H'lf't. .Mil, Ili'imlilleun Journal, Imvii Mover befoto In tm published. Tim Incident ouusod much I'liiiinnmt ut tho tliiiu uiul It was thought worth whllu to nmku an liivnstlpitloii. With tills uiul In view, ii reporter culled u"n Mrs. Kllwi belli Nichols nt her Imimi In Hours purl, Mo., nii'l olilnliieil tliu following Information. HIik wtlil.: "About six years ugo my nerves limki- down imnplotoly uiul my wliolu Hvsteiii bociimo ii wreck. I suffered ifrnidfiilly from Indigestion 'l 'y eves Hero very woitk. 1 hnd froitiont fainting spoils. Finally fny sight lulled inn eiittlroly nnd I lind to Imvo inv eyes bandaged nil tho tlmo." '"'I his statu nt uffulrH," hIiu lonthi mil, "litsted fur u i'itr, when I wns forced to go to IkiI nnd stay tliiiru con. stuntly. I lieciitni! so weiik Unit I could tuko only tun tnhli'Hiiii(ulH ' milk t u tlmo. I could ""I "'til myndf nnd sleep was utmost IiiiwwhIIiIi. Tills lusted another your nnd I wns tlion lit such il stuto nf nervous nxlmilstloii Unit when my people wnnleil to iimko my lied they could inovo nm only u few Inch!' nt i tlmi!. 1 hud Iktoiiiij x remelv thin nnd wns still losing Hindi. 1 hud tried nearly nil tho niodlcluoH In the market, but fulled to liml My thnt helped mo." "Hut how worn you cured?" asked tho interviewer. "I'll tell you. My condition finally becaiiio so critical that my family ox peetod mo to din liny day. Then my husband lmnght somo Df. Williams' Pink Pills for Pnlo People, nnd throo days nfter I Is-pin taking them I crtlld out without assistance, and In n week I could sit up und Imi drescod. After I hnd tnkim live lioxos I begin; to gain fleh. I continued tlio uso of Pink Pills for Palo People until 1 hnd tnkyn ten boxes and was nblo to liolp my family mck tip and movo to a now homo. After reaching tliero 1 took two more, boxes of tho pills and I havo boon nlilo to work hard und take euro of my (nmlly i)f live ieoplu over since. "It Df now four yours since I stopped taking miilicltio and If I over havo to tnko any moro It w ill Iki Dr. Williams' Pink Pills for Palo People. Throo of my neighbors Imvo taken tlio pills with jix! results und I positively consider thorn tlio best remedy tliero Is." Tho nlKivo Htiitomont was sworn to .... Mr.. Vl,.linlu ut (In, reiHirter's re quest iKiforo ciiurlcs F. Adams, n no tary public, ni M'iirniori. Not only Imvo tunny enses similar to this lieon ciintl by Dr. Williams' Pink lilll Ti.iljk I..,,,,),, Iml iMitintlv umi 1 ,,,n ,i(t w . , wm ui.....j ilerful results Imvo lieon accomplished liy tlicm in ii r.rgo iiumner oi iiisuurc arising from thin blood or shuttered iiervos, tw fruitful ihiisoh of utmost svery ill to which ltoli is lioir. They nro n positive euro for such dUoasos ns locomotor iiluxiii, purtiai piiriuysiH, m. Vlt.iu . I. ....... lull, mi tti.ttrtili.tii r utll. mutism, nervoiiH liomlaclio, tlio lifter effects of girp, of fevers mid of other unite ilifimsoK, palpitation of tho heart, pain nnd willow complexions, unit nil forms of weakness either In mnto or fumnlo. Dr. Williams' Pink Pills for Pule Pooplo nro ulso n specific for triuilili.ij itfu-iilliir In fnit'iiliM. In Html thuy effect a radical euro in nil ences arising Irom worry, over work or ex rosroH of whatever nature. Dr. Wil liams' Pink Pills for Palo Pooplo nro until tti Ikivi.i. miviir In liwiH.i lmllfl lit. fifty cents u box or six lxixos for two dollars und fifty edits, nnd niuy bo hud of nil druggists, or direct by mull from Tl. M'llll u M...II..I.... n in i i, milium ,it,-,i iijiuu uwiii'iiii, i ff,limiiftiiilir V V. It,, utiri, In i.nl. tliu gomiiuu; substitutes nuvur cured any I....I.. uotiy. At the Common Frog Pond. First Iloston Hoy It wns nil your fault thut your yacht run into mine. ficcotid Iloston lloy It wns not; I demand nn Investigation! Iloston Post. Publish Ntmct ol Abitntcei, At Hnltu In Argentina n list of Ihjvh and girls who Imvo fulled to attend school is published in tliu nnwspupurs. Hujt Iron Pillar In India. The largest wrought Iron pillar Is nt Dolhl, In India. It is 00 feet high and weighs 17 tons. My Hair " 1 hnd a vcrv severe sickness that took oh nil my hair. I pur chased a bottle or Ayer's Hair Vlfior and it brought ill my hair back again." W. D. Qtilnn, Marseilles, III. One thing is certain, Ayer's Hair Vigor makes the hair grow. This is because it is a hair food. It feeds the hair and the hair grows, that's all there is to it. It stops- falling of the hair, too, and al ways restores color to gray hair. 11.00 a bolltt. All druitlsli, If your Urngglst cannot supply you. tend us ono dollar ami wo will express jh i. lAintu, u nuiu nun eiyo ma namo of your nearest express nlllcB. Address. JOAYKIl CO,, Lowell, Mass.