ALL HAIL PE-RU-NA.
.A Case of
STOMACH CATARRH.
,
Miss Mary O'Brien, 306 Mjrtle
Ave., Brooklyn, N. Y., writes:
"Peruna cured me In five weeks of
catarrh of the stomach, after suffering
for four years and doctoring without
effect. In common with other grate
ful ones who have been benefited by
your discovery, I say, 'All hail to Pe
runa." Mr. H. J. Henneman, Oakland,
Neb., writes: "I waited before writ
ing to you about my sickness, atarrh
of the stomach, which I had over a
year ago. ,
"There were people who told me it
'rould not stay cured, but I am sure
that I am cured, for I do not feel any
more ill effect, have good appetite
and am getting fat. So I am, and will
a ay to all, 1 am cured for good.
"I thank you for your kindness.
Peruna wiU be our house medicine
thereafter."
Catarrh of the stomach ts also known
in common parlance as dyspepsia, gas
tritis and Indigestion. No medicine
will be of any permanent benefit ex
cept it remove the catarrhal condition.
jained Strength and Flesh.
Miee Julia Butler, R. B. 4, Apple
ton, Wis., writes she had catarrh of the
etomach, causing loss of sleep and ap
petite, with frequent severe pains after
eating. She took Peruna, her appetite
returned, she gained strength, flesh and
perfect health. ,
Hopelesa.
"He's about the poorest actor I ever
w," said the first theatrical manager,
"m. regular ham."
"Perhaps," remarked the other, "he'll
yet over his faults In time."
"Not much. He's a ham that can't
&e cured." Philadelphia Press.
BAD BLOOB
THE SOURCE OF iUX DISEASE
TJvery part of the body la dependent on the blood for nourishment and
TStrengih.' When this life stream is flowing through the system ia a state ol
purity and richness we are assured of perfect and uninterrupted health;
Localise pure blood i3 nature's safe-guard against disease. When, however,
the body is fed on weak, impure or polluted blood, the system is deprived of
its strength, disease germs collect, and the trouble is manifested in various
-ways. Pustular eruptions, pimples, rashes and the different skin affections
Hchow that the blood is in a feverish and diseased conaicion as a result of too
much, acid or the presence of some irritating humor. Sores and Ulcers are
the result of morbid, unhealthy matter
tarrh, Scrofula, Contagious Blood Poison, etc., are all deep-seated blood
disorders that will continue to grow worse as long as the poison remains.
These impurities and poisons find their way into the blood ia various ways.
Often a sluggish, inactive condition? of the system, and torpid state of the
svenues of bodily waste, leaves the refuse and waste matters to sour and
dorm uric and other acids, which are taken up by the blood and distributed
throughout the circulation. Coming ia contact with contagious diseases is
another cause for the poisoning of the blood ; we. also breathe the germs and
microbes of Malaria into our lungs, and when these get into the blood ia
Sufficient quantity it becomes a carrier of disease instead of health. Some
re so unfortunate as to inherit bad blood, perhaps the dregs of some old
constitutional disease of ancestors 13 handed down to them and they are
constantly annoved and troubled with it. Bad blood is the source of all dis
ease, and until this vital fluid is cleansed and purified the body is sure to
suffer in some way. For blood troubles of any character S. S. S. is the best
xemedy ever discovered. It goes down into the circulation and removes any
and all poisons, supplies the healthful properties it needs, and completely
and
PURELY VEGETABLE
3
slightest trace of the trouble for future outbreaks. The whole volume of
Idood is renewed and cleansed after a course of S. S. S. It is also nature's
.greatest tonic, made entirely of roots, herbs and barks, and is absolutely
harmless to any part of the system. S. S. S. is for sale at all first class)
ifkug stores. Book on the blood and any medical advice free to all who write
THE SWIFT
W. L. DOUGLAS
33.00 & $3.50 SHOES THc'wORLD
ffigBHOE8 FOR EVERY MEMBER OF
THE FAMILY, AT ALL PRIOE8. "
fOK nnniToanyonewhooan provaY.L.
maUUUU SOougtaa doaa not maka 4
I7niiriiwl Imora Man 'a $3 & $3. BO ahoaa
.than any othar manufacturer.
THK BKASON W. L. Douglas shoes are worn by more people
In alt walks of life than any other make, is became of their
xeaiknt style, easy-fitting, and superior wearing qualities.
Ths selection of the leather 3 aim other materials for each part
of the shoe, and erery detail ot the making Is looked after by
the mostoompleteorganlzattonof superlntondeuts.fnremenand
1 skilled shoemakers, who reoelve the highest wages paid In the
.ahoe Industry, and whose workmanship cannot he excelled.
;e lactones
1 Douglas
iSMid show too how carefullv
"would then understand why they hoi
longer and are or greater value man an
aWr $4 QIH fdoa and $B Bold Bond Shoaa oannot bm aquallad at any prlca.
CAUTION! The genulns have w. L. Douglas name and price stamped on bottom. Take
Jfo Substitute. Ask your dealer lor n . u,
tOlraot to factor. Jtamtataxmanj uj
malting Cloth from Taper.
"To the Ingenuity of Herr Esnll Cla
vlez, a well-known Saxon Inventor and
manufacturer, Is due the production of
a paper yarn termed "Zylolln," that
lias been successfully used In a wide
range of textile fabrics." So writes
Frank' N. Bauskett In the Technical
World Magazine.
"The utilization of paper wood fibre
In this practical way and the extreme
cheapness of the new material coin
pared with other yams now In use Is
really a most remarkable achievement.
This Is not a haphazard discovery, but
rather the logical result of years of
painstaking study and experimentation.
After the final development of the the
ory at first in hilud Into tangible ma
terial for all manner of uses In textile
Industries, the paper thread and yarn,
loose or tightly spun, of all thicknesses,
have since been woven Into almost ev
ery conceivable fabric and tested and
retested until the Invention has become
an Important commercial success. The
paper yarn has extraordinary wearing
properties, and as the tull scope of Its
usefulness has probably not been deter
mined, it will, In all likelihood, lend
Itself to other purposes yet to be dis
covered." Mothers will find Mrs. Winslow"s Soothing
Byrup the btst remedy to use for their chlldrea
luring the teething period.
Hla Change of Front.
"My view of coeducation," he said,
firmly, "is that It should be forbidden.
It Is deleterious to mental develop
ment It leads to '
"John," said his wife, entering unex
pectedly, "are you telling Mr. Smith of
the dear old days when we were college
classmates?"
"Y-yes," said John. Philadelphia
Ledger.
Bt. Vitas' Dance ana all Nervous Diseases
permanently cured oy ur. jliidb b v,r
erve Restorer. eoa ror szwai doum ana
treatise. Dr. B. H. Kllae, Li., 881 Arch SU, P hUa..Pa
Hotel Keys.
"I suppose," said a guest, "a. good
many forgetful people go off with hotel
keys?"
"This will show you," said the clerk.
And he took from a drawer the fol
lowing printed slip:
"The manager of the Blank Hotel ac
knowledges with thanks the return of
key No. , which Mr. , by oversight
carried away on departure." .
So many keys, the young man ex
plained, were mailed by forgetful
guests It had been deemed advisable, as
a time" saving device, to have a key ac
knowledgment printed. New Orleana
Times-Democrat. '
California's State library has been
placed under civil service rules. It is
the first department of the State govern
ment to which those rules have been ap
plied. ia the blood, and Rheumatism, Ca
permanently cures blood diseases ol
every kind. I he action ol B. o. o. is so
thorough that hereditary taints are removed
and weak, diseased blood made strong and
healthy so that disease cannot remain. It
cures Rheumatism, Catarrh, Scrofula, Sores
and Ulcers, Skin Diseases, Contagious
Blood Poison, etc., and does not leave the
SPECIFIC CO., ATLANTA, CAm
m lirorktnn.Mass.,
shuns are nintle, you
a meir snape, nt oetter,
than any other make.
nougias snoes. it oa cannot supply you, senu
mail, uataio us, wumsiui, Brocatoa,
THE GIRL WITH
A MILLION.
By D. C. Murray
CHAPTER; XVIII. (Continued.)
"It will be expeusive," he mused.
"What of that? They would give a mill
Ion to have him. He knows everything
He Is the mainspring of everything."
He finished his plans and went to a
cheap upholsterer's. There he ordered
a triple supply of everything he had noted
down, one set to be sent to his own ad
dress In London, the two others to be
packed separately In stout crates for
transport by rail.
The tradesman thought the order curi
ous ; but the foreign gentleman who gave
it having paid twenty pounds down, and
undertaking to pay the rest when the
goods were ready for delivery, he forbore
to puzzle. himself about it.
In three or four days' time the old fur
niture was removed from Mr. Zeno's
apartment, and the. new furniture, glossy,
new, and sticky as to the woodwork, and
flaringly vulgar as to pictures, carpet,
mirrors,' curtains and hearthrugs, was all
arranged in its place. When everything
was arranged, Mr. Zeno, whose landlady
had begun to think him eccentric, did a
thing even more curious than the wanton
and unnecessary refurnishing of his rooms
had seemed. He walked out one morning
and returned with a pale young man, who,
In obedience to his Instructions, produced
water-color sketch-book, a tube each of
Chinese white and sepia, and a camels
hair pencil or two, and began to make a
Btiffiy accurate and ugly sketch of one of
the walls of Mr. Zeno's chamber.
The rale artist made a drawing of
every one of the eight walls, and when
they were done and paid for the spy him
self drew a plan of the two rooms, num
bered the drawing in correspondence with
the walls. When he had done this he
made up the eight drawings and the plan
into a neat packet, addressed it to a con
federate in Calais, and registered it . at
the po8tofflce. One of the three sets oi
furniture, with wall paper, carpet, cur
tains, plaster casts, mirrors and chromos
had been consigned to the same address
three days before. The third set was
consigned to a gentleman of Mr. eno s
own profession in Vienna, and Austin
Farley's plan was in a fair way to be
realized.
CHAPTER XIX.
If Fraser bad been given to the analy
sis of his own spiritual symptoms, ne
mieht have been a little surprised to dis
cover how aromatic and tonic a draught
he had imbibed in learning to hate
O'Rourke. 1
"I've a bit of news," he said one day
to Maskelyne. "Maybe ye'll be able to
euess why I brine it. O'Rourke's going
to be married.'.
"Yes?" said Maskelyne, quietly, ra-
aer's bit of news was like a stab to him,
but he was not the sort of man to make
a show of his pain.
"He's eneaeed to a friend .of yours,
said Fraser. "It was you that Introducea
him to her."
"I think not." returned Maskelyne.
"Ye did. thoueh." cried Fraser. "I got
the news from Mrs. Farley, and she got
ft from the lady herself.
"I introduced O Rourke to an Ameri-
. . . .. .... r 1 1 .lalnn
can lacrv nere. saiu iuaaaeijuc, iiuS
from his seat involuntarily a Mrs.
Spry."
"That's what I'm telling ye, saia ira-
ser. xney re going 10 oe nmmw.
. . ... 1 f.,
kelyne sat down again without a word.
Heotor O'Rourke is going to be marriea
to the Mrs. Spry to whom you introduced
him a month or two ago. There s no sort
of humbug or nonsense about It, for it's
fact."
"I can hardlv believe it," returned
Maskelyne.
"Ye don't seem to be woildly delight
ed," said Fraser, "after all. I thougnt
ve'd skin like a young he goat upon
the mountains."
"I am very much obliged to you, In-
deed," Maskelyne answered. I will go
and p fYRonrke." he added, with an
air of sudden decision and awakening.
"Well." said Fraser. rubbing his hands
and beaming, "the interview ought to be
a pleasant one. I'll not keep ye from it
a moment. I'll say good-morning.
The two shook hands on the pavement
in front of the hotel, and Fraser stood
there to watch Maskelyne as he stepped
into a cab and drove away.
"Now." said Fraser, nodding and smil
ing to himself, "that's not moy oydoyal of
an ardent lover. But there's spoite num
ber nine in your wheel, Hector, me boy
and there's another or two in the course
of manufacture."
Maskelyne wandered about in his own
hpme-made labyrinth until he had quite
made up his mind . that there was no
way out of It, or through it. But finally
he packed up a portmanteau, took the
tidal train and carried his cobwebs to
Brussels. There they were just as strong
and unbreakable as ever, and even when,
a dav or two later, he carried them to
Janenne, they seemed to bind him In like
strands of steel. But being actually at
Janenne, he found that he had added
new uerolexltv to the old ones. ' He was
still as far as ever from seeing his way
to Houfoy, but he saw quite clearly that
it was impossible not to go.
The day was inclining toward Its close
and there was a sense of ease In the
wide fields to which he was not alto
gether insensible, foolishly broken up and
down in spirit as he was. The fields
wero more Inviting than the road in many
ways, not least perhaps, because they
offered fewer chances of an counter,
Sauntering In this downcast and irres
olute mood, he found himself suddenly
charged by a troop of half a down dogs,
who all leaped and hayed about him,
with demonstrations of welcome. Follow
ing them, a gun under his arm, appeared
the major, and behind the major an at
tendant, who bore the dead bodies of a
pair of well-grown foxes.
"Ilillo I" cried the major cheerily, while
yet a hundred yards away. How are
you, old fellow? Upon my word, I'm glad
to see you. How's O'Rourke?
"He was In health when I saw him
last," said Maskelyne, on whose nerves
the mention of his wicked .rival grated.
The major had not many people to talk
to at Iloufoy, and the unrestricted use
of his native language was like a treat
to him. He did not notice Maskelyne s
ilence until he bad exhausted his own
budget of news and bad made his final
reflection upon Its contents. By that
time it began to strike hint that Masks
lyne's manner was unusually subdued and
Berious.
I say," he exclaimed, stopping short
and turning to face the young American,
you're not looking very bright, just now.
Been 111?"
"No," returned Maskelyne, "I have
been very well. Major Butler,. I wanted
to say a word to you upon a topic of great
moment to myself."
"Yes?'1 said the major, facing him, and
transferring his gun from one arm to the
other.
"You are Miss Butler's guardian," said
Maskelyne; and this time the major's
heart bumped, for he saw what was com
ing. "I have to ask your permission to
approach your niece with an offer of mar
riage." My dear Maskelyne," said Butler, al
most as hurriedly as if he had feared the
offer might be retracted, "I am delighted
to hear you say so, and I wish you luck.
"I am right in assuming that Miss But
ler is free?" asked Maskelyne.
"Certainly," said Butler, "certainly.
She's only a child. Never bad a proposal
in her life. I thought you had something
of this kind on your mind when you
were here before. That is, I fancied you
might have. Will yon speak to ber your
self, or shall I?"
Before Maskelyne could reply Angela
herself appeared at the edge of her favor
ite pine wood -at the identical spot, if
anybody had known it, at which O'Rourke
had been detected by Dobroski in the act
of embracing the pretty widow. Maske
lyne raised his hat and Angela came for
ward to meet them.
"I will speak for myself," said the
lover in an undertone, "if you will allow
me."
"Of course." replied the major, "of
course.
He began to beam with triumph and
complacency. Angela, blushing and pale
by turns, walked toward them at so slow
a pace that Maskelyne thought her reluc
tant. She shook hands with enforced
smile.
"You have finished your business in
England?" she asked. "Welcome to Hou
foy."
"Look here, Maskelyne," 'said the ma
jor : "you'll excuse me for Just a minute,
know." With that he turned tail and
bolted triumphantly, and Maskelyne stood
holding the girl's hand in his own. She
made a little attempt to withdraw it, but
he insisted on retaining it, and she let it
rest.
"I had no business In England," said
Maskelyne: "but I was afraid to come
back."
"Afraid?"
"I don't know how I found the cour
age to come at all," he answered. "But
I had to come. Angela made another
little movement to withdraw her hand,
but he held it still. "Miss Butler, I love
you; and I am here to ask you if you
will be my wife."
Miss Butler bent her bead and said
nothing; but he was not to be beaten
now by anything short of sheer defeat.
"I never thought of murrlage until
saw you," he pursued; "and If you say
no, I'll go away at once, and be no more
trouble to you. I m a worthless good-
for-nothing sort of a fellow, and I've
never done anything but loaf about and
spend other people's earnings ; but I think
I should be a better man if you took me
in hand. If I didn't believe so I should
oe too mucn asnamea to aare to asx you.
Will you try me, Miss Butler? I should
have one merit. I don't believe anybody
was ever so dear to anybody else as you
are to me."
Still Miss Butler bent her head and
said nothing. He took her hand in both
his own.
"Angela," he said, "do you send me
away again? Am I to go back?"
"No," said Angela, in an almost lnaudi
ble whisper. .
CHAPTER XX.
, The question of settlements took the
whole party to London, and in London
Angela called upon the Farleys. Lucy
was delighted with the news of the ap
proaching marriage. She and Angela
were very confidential together, and suit
ed each other perfectly. Lucy had taken
a peculiar and tender Interest in the
young woman's love affairs, and had
brought her husband to a quarrel with
his oldest friend concerning them. It was
hardly in nature that O'Rourke should
be left out of their talk.
"I saw from the very first that Mr,
Maskelyne cared for you," said Lucy
and I thought you cared for him. But
I was afraid at one tlrno Hint yon would
lose each other. The course of true lovo
does not always run smooth, and Mr.
Maskelyne Is very delicate and rather
sulf-dlNlniHlful.
"It was my own fuult," said Angela,
with a blush, "if wo were In ilunger of
misunderstanding each other." '
"No, my dour," returned Lucy, with
gentle decision. "It was tho fault of a
third person. Poor Httlo Mrs. Spry ought
to be saved from that mercenary wretch."
It was not easy to see what could bo
done hut to leave the patriot to his bnsn
triumph and the poor little widow to her
Inevitable sufferings. But it happened
that when Angela hud gone away, Fra
ser strolled In ; and since Fraser had bo
gun to hate O'Rourke, nothing had pleas
ed him so much as to talk about his
enemy.' He talked about him now, and
Lucy, who was full of the new proof of
O'Hourke'B wickedness, related it, binding
Fraser to solemn secrecy.
"You see," she sold, "that nothing caa
be done ; but everything shows how badly
he has acted. Nobody can tell Mrs.
Spry. You know perhaps what women
are, Mr. Fraser. They are very blind
about these things, and they do not thank
anybody who tries to open their eyes. It
would only make her very unhappy, and
she would still go on her own way."
'Tis like enough," said Fraser, but
he smiled Ineffably, and shook his head
with a wonderful blending of complacen
cy and pity. "Where's the poor deluded
thing llvin'? he asked, smilingly.
Lucy told him, and he wagged his head
up and down, this time with a smile that
had a suggestion of anticipatory triumph
in It. Very shortly afterward he took
his leave, and all the way home he smiled.
Home reached, he sat down at his desk
and wrote this letter:
"My Dear Madame If I leave this let
ter unsigned it is not because I desire to
shelter myselt behind the shield of dark
ness which the writer of libel occasionally
finds useful. It is because I know enough
of human nature to be aware of the fact
that an unsigned communication is al
ways read and remembered. If you will
show this to Mr. Hector O'Rourke it
you feel that your happiness in any way
depends upon itwhy- he resigned his
pretensions to the hand of Miss Butler, of
Iloufoy, near Janenne. Ask him why he
quarreled with his friend Mr. Maskelyne,
and why he does not repay that gentle
man the money he owes him. Ask him
Who wrote this letter, and why the writer
is His Implacable Enemy."
"Postscrlptum. You may tell Mr.
O'Rourke that if he chooses to seek an
exposure in the law courts, I shall not
shrink from the ordeal, or deny my hand
writing, which he knows as well as I
know him. You may ask him what that
means, also."
"I'll teach the sneaking villain to play ,
false with me,"' said Fraser. . "There's.,
nothing sneaking in that, anyway," he
added, surveying his own work admiring
ly.
And with this conclusion he walked
out and with his own hands posted the
letter.
Mrs. Spry had taken, for what re- .
mained of the season, a small furnished
house in Park Lane. Fraser had written
and posted his letter on a Wednesday af
ternoon, and on the evening of that same
Wednesday Mrs. Spry had been dressed
with unusual care and splendor. She had
dined alone rather early, and after din
ner had surrendered herself to the hands
of her maid with full intent to look her
best, for she was certain to meet "Hector -..
iu the course of the evening, and was
quite resolved to eclipse any possible
rival. ' .
While she was at the very flush of
these fancies her maid brought her Era
ser's letter. If the writer of the letter
had known what he was dong he would
certainly have spared her, for though he
was thick-skinned, and upon occasion
thick-headed enough, he was by no means
a brute, and only a brute could willfully ,
and knowingly have tortured anything,
as Fraser now tortured his enemy's
fiancee. He had shot his arrow at his
foe without so much as thinking that it
must pass through this feeble and tender
bosom before it could reach him.
Mrs. Spry read the letter with a help
less terror and dismay. Her little white
teeth clicked with hysteric passion, and
her little white hands clinched and shook
before her so dreadfully that the maid
was scared, and retreated before her. She
cast herself anew upon the couch with
all her costly finery crumpled and disar
ranged, and cried herself into a mood
of stony disregard for everything. It took
nearly an hour to do this, and by the
time it was done the big eyes were all
puffed and swollen, and her cheeks were.'
scalded with tears.
"When," gasped the little woman final
lywheu did this come?" "
"This afternoon, madam," responded
the maid.
"Order the carriage !" cried Mrs. Spry,
hastily gathering her opera cloak, fan.
and glasses In a reckless handful. She
snatched the letter from the table and
faced the maid, panting.
"The carriage is waiting," the maid
replied; "but really, ma'am " , .
, (To be continued.)
The VUlasre Ooaalpa,
Silas Hardacre Yes, every Tuesday
and Thursday night is "rlpplng-up
night" with the Ladles' Sewing Social
in this town.
City Drummer Indeed I And what
do they rip up?
Silas Hardapple Carpet rags, pedi
grees and the absent members.
In After Years.
Anxious Mother Llttlo Bobble cries
for the moon every night I don't know
what to do about It
Old Doctor Oh, he'll outgrow that
In time. When he grows up be will
forget the moon and want tba earth.