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.