The Doetbr'$ pemma By Hesba CHAPTER XX.-fContlnaed.) "You love her J" said Johanna. "Certainly," I answered. " my t.er.M "Better than any woman now living? aha nursued. "Tea." I replied. ; ' "That ia all Juila requires." aha con tinued: "so let us aay no more at pres ent, Martin, Only understand that all Idea of marriage between her and my brother la quite put away. Don't argue with me, don't contradict me. -Come to aee ua aa you would have done but for that unfortunate conversation laat eight. All will come right by-and-by." " "But Captain Carey " I began. "There! not a word!" ahe interrupted Imperatively. "Tell me all about that wretch, Blchard Foster. How did you come across hlmt Is he likely to die? Ia ha anything like Kate Daltrey? I will never call her Kate Dobree as long aa the world lasts. Come, Martin, tell me everything about him." She aat with me most of the morning, talking with animated perseverance, and at last prevailed upon me to take her a walk In Hyde Park. Her pertinacity did me good in spite of the Irritation It caused me. When her dinuer hour was at hand I felt bound to attend her to her house In Hanover street; and I could not get away . from her without first speaking to Julia. Her face waa very sorrowful, and her manner sympathetic. We aaid only a few words to one another, but I went away with the impression that her heart was still with me. At dinner Jack announced his intention of paying a visit to Richard Foster. "You are not fit to deal with the fel low," he said; "you may be sharp enough upon your own black aheep in Guernsey, but you know nothing of the breed here. Now If I aee him I will squeeze out of him every mortal thing he know about Olivia." . Jack returned, his face kindled with xcitement. He caught my hand, and grasped it heartily. , "I no more believe she is dead than 1 am," were his first words. "You recol lect me telling you of drunken brawl In a street off the Strand, where a fel low, aa drunk as a lord, waa for claim ing a pretty girl aa hie wife; only I had followed her out of Kidley'a agency of fice, and waa Just in time to protect her from him. A girl I could have fallen in love with myself. You recollect?" "Yea, yes," I said, almost breathless. "He was the man, and Olivia was the girl!"' exclaimed Jack. "No!" I cried. ""YesI" continued Jack, with an affec tionate lunge at me; "at any rate I can awear he la the man; and I would bet a thousand to one that the girl was Olivia." "But when waa It?" I asked. "Since he married again," he answer ed; "they were married on the 2d of Oc tober, and this was early In November. I had gone to Ridley's after a place for a poor fellow as an assistant to a drug gist, and I saw the girl distinctly. She gave the name of Ellen Martineau. Those letters about her death are all forgeries." "Olivia's la not," I said; "I know her handwriting too well." "Well, then," observed Jack, "there ia only one explanation. She has aent them herself to throw Foster off the scent; she thinks she will be safe if he believes her dead." , "No," I answered hotly, "she would never have done such a thing as that" "Who else is benefited by it?" he ask ed gravely. "It does not put Foster into possession of any of her property, or that would have been a motive for him to do It But he gains nothing by it; and he is so convinced of her death that he has taken a second wife." "What can I do now?" I aaid, apeaklng loud, though I was thinking to myself. ""Martin," replied Jack, gravely, "Isn't it wisest to leave the matter aa it stands? If you find Olivia, what then? She ia aa much separated from you as she can be by death. So long as Foster lives -It is worse than useless to be thinking of her." "I only wish to aatiafy myself that she is alive," I answered. "Just think of it, Jack, not to know whether she is living or dead! You must help me to satisfy myself. This mystery would be intolera ble to me." "You're right, old fellow," he said, cor dially; "we will go to Bidley'a together to-morrow morning." We were there soon after the door were open. There were not many cli ents present, and the clerka were enjoy ing a alack time. Jack had recalled to his mind the exact date of his former visit; and thus the sole difficulty was overcome. The clerk found the name of Ellen Martineau entered under that date in his book. "Yes," he said, "Miss Ellen Martineau, English teacher in a French school; pre mium to be paid, about 10; no salary; reference, Mrs. Wilkinson, No. 19, Bell i ringer street" 1 "No. 19 Bellringer streetf wa repeated in one breath. i "Yes, gentlemen, that is the address," said the clerk, closing the book, "Shall I write It down for you? Mrs. Wilkin ison waa the party who ahould have paid oar commission; as you perceive, a pre mium waa required instead of a salary given. We feel pretty sure the young lady went to the school, but Mrs. Wil kinson denies it, and it is not worth our while to pursue our claim in law." "Can you describe the young lady?" I inquired. . "Well, no. We have such hosts of young ladies here." "Do you know where the school is?" "No. Mrs. Wilkinson waa the party," .he said. "We had nothing to do with it except to send any ladies to her who tbotight It worth their while. That was n." As we could obtain no further Informa tion we went away, and paced op and down the tolerably quiet street deep in consultation. That we should have need for great caution, and aa much craftiness 'as we both possessed. In pursuing our in quiries was quite evident Who couid be this Mrs. Wilkinson? Was it possi ble that she might prove to be Mrs. Fos ter herself? At any rate It would not do for either of us to present ourselves there in quest of Miss Ellen Martineau. It was finally settled between us that Jo hanna should be entrusted with the diplo matic enterprise. Johanna put in the next day following down the clews Jack and I had discov ered. "Well, Martin," she said that evening, "you need suffer no more anxiety. Olivia has gne as English tea, her in an excel lent French school, where the lady ia thoroughly acquainted with English ways and comforts. This is the prospectus of the establishment. You aee there are extensive grounds for recreation, and the comforts of a cheerfully happy home, the domt-'ic rr,njr"m' btiag ca a thor i "Til Stretton oughly liberal acale.' Here ia alao a pho; tographle view of the place; a charming villa, you aee, In the best French style. The lady's husband la an avocat; and ev erything is taught by professors cosmog raphy and pedagogy, and other studies of which we never heard when I was a girl. Olivia is to atay there twelve months, and in return for her services will take les sons from any professors attending the establishment. Your mind may be quite at ease now." "But where Is the place?" I inquired. "Oh! It is in Normandy Nolreau," he said "quite out of the range of railways and tourists. There will be no danger of any one finding her out there; and you know she has changed her name alto gether this time." "Did you discover that Olivia and Ellen Martineau are the same persona?" I ask ed. "No, I did not" ahe answered; "I thought you were sure of that." But I was not sure of it; neither could Jack be sure. He puzzled himself in trying to give a satisfactory description of his Ellen Martineau; but every an swertj he gave to my eager questions plunged us into greater uncertainty. He was not sura of the color either of her hair or eyes, and made bltinderiug guesses at her height What waa I to believe? It was running too great a risk to make any further inquiries at No. 19 Bellringer street Mrs. Wilkinson was the landlady of the lodging house, and ahe had told Johanna that Madame Per rier boarded with her when ahe waa in London. But she might begin to talk to her other lodgers, if her own curiosity t r . -14 irJ i - sat "SITTING BESIDE were excited; and once more my desire to fathom the mystery hanging about Olivia might plunge her into fresh diffi culties, should It reach the cars of Fos ter or his wife. "I must satisfy myself about her safe ty now," I said. "Only put yourself In my place, Jack. How can I rest till 1 know more about Olivia?". "I do put myself In your place," he answered. "What do you say to having a run down to this place in Basse Nor mandy, and seeing for yourself whether Miss Ellen Martineau ia your Olivia?" "How can I?" I aaked, attempting to hang back from the suggestion. It was a busy time with us. The season was in full roll, and our most aristocratic pa tients were In town. The easterly winds were bringing In their nsual harvest of bronchitis and diphtheria. If I went Jack's hands would be more than full. Had these things come to perplex ua only two months earlier, I could have taken holiday with a clear conscience. "Dad will jump at the chance of com ing back for a week," replied Jack; "he is bored to death down at Fulham. Go you must for my sake, old fellow. You re good for nothing as long as you're so down in the mouth. I shall be glad to be rid of you." In this way It came to pass that two evenings later I was crossing the Chan nel to Havre, and found myself about five o'clock in the afternoon of the next day at Falaise. It waa the terminus of the railway In that direction; and a very ancient conveyance was in waiting to carry on any travelers who were venture some enough to explore the regions be yond. I very much preferred sitting beaide the driver, red-faced, smooth-cheeked Norman, habited m a blue blouse, who could crack his long whip with almoat the skill of a Parisian omnibus driver. We were friends in trice, for my patois was almost identical with his own, and he could not believe his own eara that he was talking with an Englishman. The sun sank below the distant hori son, with the trees showing clearly against It, and the light of the stars that came out one by one almost cast defined shadow upon our path, from the poplar trees standing in long straight rows in the hedges. If I found Olivia at the end of that atar-lit path my gladnesa in it would be completed. Yet if I found her, what then? I should see her for a few minutes in the dull salon of a school, per haps with some watchful, spying French woman present I should simply satisfy myself that she was living. There could be nothing mora between ua. I dared not tell her how dear ahe waa to me, or ask her If she ever thought of me In her loneliness and friendleasness. I begsn to sound the driver, cautiously wheeling about the object of my excur sion into those remote regions. I hsd tramped through Normandy and Brit tany three or four times, but there had been no inducement to visit Nolreau, which resembled Lancashire cotton town, and I had never been there. "There are not many English at Nol reau V I remarked suggestively. "Not one." he replied "not one at this moment. There was oue little English mam'selle peste! a very pretty little English girl, who was voyaging precisely like you, m'sieur, some mouths ago. There wss a little child with her, and the two were quite alone. They are very in trepid, are the English main'ielles. She did not know a word of our lunguage. But that waa droll, m'sieur! A French demoiselle would sever voysge like that." The little child pusr.led me. Yet I could not help fsnrying that this young Englishwoman traveling aloue, with no knowledge of French, must be my O.ivia At any rate it couid be no other thaa Mls Ellen Martineau. "Where was she going to?" I a'ed. "She came to Nolreau to be aa in structress tai sa estsblinhnti nt" answered the driver, in a tone of great enjoyment "an establishment founded by the wife of Monsieur Ernile Perricr, the avocat! Hel he! he! hew drell that was, m'sleurj An avocat! So they believed that In England? Bah! Eiuile Perrler an a vo ce!" ' "But what is there to laugh at?" I ask ed. "Am I an-avocat?" he inquired deris ively, "am I a proprietor? am I even a cure? Pardon, m'sleur, but I am just aa much avocat proprietor, cure, as Emlle Perrler. He waa an impostor. He be came bankrupt; he and his wife ran away to save themselves; the establishment was broken up. It waa a bubble, m'sieur, and it burst." My driver clapped his hands together lightly, as though Monsieur Perrler'a bub ble needed very little pressure to dis perse It "Good heavens!" I exclaimed, "but what became of Oil of the young Eng lish lady, and the child?" "Ah, m'sleur!" he said, "I do not know. I do not live In Nolreau, but I pass to and fro from Falaise. She has not re turned In my omnibus, that is all I know. But she could go to Qran-IUe., or to Caen. There are other omnibuses, you see. Somebody will te'.l yon down there." It was nearly eleven o'clock-before we entered the town; but I learned a few more particulars from the middle-aged woman in the omnibus bureau. She rec ollected the name of Miss Ellen Marti neau, and her arrival; and she described her with the accuracy and faithfulness of a woman. If she were not Olivia her self she must be her very counterpart. I started out early the next morning to find the Rue de Grace, where the In scription on my photographic view of the premises represented them as situated. There were two houses, one standing in the street, the other lying back beyond a very pleasant garden. A Frenchman waa pacing up and down the broad gravel path which connected them, examining critically the vines growing against the walls.' Two little children were gam boling about In close white caps, and witn frocks down to their heels. Upon seeing me he lifted his hat. I returned the sal utation with a politeness aa ceremonious as his own. "Monsieur is an Englishman?" he aaid In a doubtful tone. "From the Channel Islands," I replied. "Ah! you belong to us," he said, "but rfl lt&i$jfi " THE DRIVER." you are hybrid, half English, half French; fine race. I also have English blood in my velus." I paid monsieur a compliment upon the result of the admixture of blood in his own instance, and then proceeded to un fold my object in now visiting him. "Ah!" he said, "yea, yes, yes; Perrier was an impostor. These houses are mine, monsieur. I live in the front yon der; my daughter and son-in-law occupy the other. We had the photographs tak en for our own pleasure, but Perrler must have bought them from the artist, no doubt I have small cottage at the back of my house; monsieur! there it is. Perrier rented it from me for two hun dred francs a year. I permitted him to pass along this walk, aud through our coach house Into a passage which leads to the street where madame had her achool. Permit me, and I will show It to you." ' He led me through a abed, and along dirty, vaulted passage, Into a mean street at the back. A small, miserable-looking house stood In it, shut up, with broken persiennes covering the windows. My heart sank at the Idea of Olivia living here. In such discomfort and neglect and sordid poverty. "Did you ever see young English lady here, monsieur?" I asked; "she ar rived about the beginning of last Novem ber." "But yes, certainly, monsieur," he re plied, "a charming English demoiselle! One must have been blind not to observe her. A sweet face, with hair of gold, but a little more somber. "What height was she, monsieur?" I inquired. "A just height," he answered, "not tall like camel, rbr too short like a mon key. She would stand an inch or two above your ahoulder, monsieur." ' It could be no other than my Olivia! She bad been living here, then, in thia miserable place, only a month ago; but where could she he now? How waa I to find any trace of her? "I will make aome Inquiries from my daughter," aaid the Frenchman; "when the establishment was broken up I waa ill with the fever, monsieur. We have fever often here. But she will Enow I will ask her." He returned to me after some time, with the information that the English demoiselle had been seen In the house of a woman who aold milk. Mademoiselle Rosalie by name; and he volunteered to accompany me to her dwelling. It was poor-looking house, of one room only. In the aame street as the achool; but we found no one there except an old woman, exceedingly deaf, who told ua that Mademoiselle Rosalie waa gone somewhere to nurse a relative, who was dangerously 111, and she knew noth ing of an Englishwoman and a little girl I turned away baffled and discouraged; but my new friend waa not so quickly depressed. It was impossible he main tained, that the English girl and the child could have left the town unnoticed. He went with me to all the omnibus bu reaus, where we made urgent inquiries concerning the passengers who had quit ted Noireau during the last month. Ns places had been taken for Miss Eilen Martineau and the child, for there waa no such name in any of the books. But at each bureau I was recommended tu see the drivers upon their return in the evening;' and I was compelled to giva up the pursuit for that day. (To be continued.) What He Was IMng Of. Mrs. Kelly-Did jex hesr of th felly ocrosht the way djin' of Anglophobia? Mrs. Googaa Yes mean hydrophobia! Mrs. Kelly No; I mean Anglopho bia! He wui cheerln fer King Ed ward, n' de gang hecrd h!m! Judge. Few Millionaire in France. There are four millionaires In En gland to oue in "ranee. V ' fpAIKSOIVINO Kfik Fair Dorothea, a goodly mayde. From Puritans descended, In kirtle, cap and kerchief prayed That famine sore be ended. Though piump and fair albeit she kept She tired of frugal living. Bo prayed she while the Elders slept, "Lord, send a true Thanksgiving' The cunning lass. She had no lack Of gown or ermine tippet, Of mettled palfrey's pillioned back. Or pretty fawning whippet. The roses In her saucy cheeks Are not by famine shrunken. Her wholesome appetite bespeaks The pies of quince er pumpkin. lint ah, her secret yon have guessed, Sharp eyes her tricks discover; For Mistress Dorothea Is vexed To miss ber soldier lover. Who, with his bnllets, powder, match. In forests dense Is living. That he the bounding roe may snatch To make their first Thanksgiving. Ah, Miss Dorothea, your face In smiling beauty painted. Looks on me from a panel's space Long, long, hare you been painted. May we, though centuries apart In peace and plenty living. Voice your petition of the heart, "Lord, send a true Thanksgiving." . JIMMY'S THANKSGIVING. ? BY PAUL INOELOW. T -H--H- PROCLAMATION-By virtue of authority In me vested, do here by appoint as day of thanksgiving " In sonorous, well-rounded accents the sentences rolled forth. Little Jimmy Quinn, newsboy and waif, listened, catch ing not all that was spoken. But be un derstood the Import, and he thought how grand and majestic did the name and the official designation, "Governor," fill out the dignified, well-worded announcement. He was outside the hotel, Now he tip toed and looked over screen into lounging room. Jimmy saw person he thought the nicest-faced, noblest looking man he had ever met standing facing a mixed audi ence, who had been listening while he read the Governor's Thanksgiving proc lamation, though Jimmy, not seeing the paper he had just put aside, supposed he had been speaking it out "Further," said the pleasant faced, fine eyed young man who held the interest of the group by hla magnetic oratorical grasp and general good fellowship, "be it ordained that I, the Governor, command that one ten-pound turkey be given to every poor family, family with no father two turkeys, family with no mother three turkeya." Jimmy got down from painful tiptoe poise, full of the rarest excitement wrought up by vivid imagination. "Crackey!" he exploded. "Here's news!" and bolted down the street for home. "Home" was rickety cabin in an un kempt yard. It had known no woman's care for three weeks. Jimmy and hla brother had been "keeping bachelor's hall" while she was In the hospital. . . Across the back yard was stretched taut wire, and against It leaned a balanc ing pole. Just near it waa an Impromptu spring-board, with an old torn mattress nnder it. Jimmy's older brother, Ned, -had Just turned double somerssnlt as the former burst upon the scene with prolonged: "Say! "Hello! what's up?" queried Ned, pos ing for another tumble. "Hold on! Say great newa!" "WeUr "The Governor's In town!" "Hey! what Governor?" challenged Ned, suspiciously and incredulously. "Why, of the State the big nob. see? I saw him! I heard him apeak his proc lermation go ahead." "He promised one turkey to every poor man. two to half orphans, three to" "Gwsnr Ned disdainfully turned the cold shoul der on his brother. "Bat av " "Naw! There's nothia" to it Some body's been kiddin' you!" "But it wss the Governor! Didn't he tslk out the proc-lermition? Don't be look a Governor all over? Two turkeys." "Say, Jimmy," gravely interrupted Ne4, "drop it You've been hoaxed. Get down to business now, if you ever expect to make mas of yourself." Ever since the lsst cirrus came to town the Quinn boys had been "making men of themselves" ia wsy unique the ac robatic way. They were epry, supple, daring. Ned waa "India rubber!" He could flip up In the air Ilka an expert tumbler already, after month's practice. And as to Jim my's wire-walking feats Ned declared they would aojn be earning "fifty per" aa "the celebrated Flying Brothers!" And "they had sacred motive in view, "for mother's sake." She had scrubbed, washed, worked day and night to raise them. Now, even out of the trivial amount thoy earned selling papers, they had saved small sum to buy her a new "comfort-rocker" when she came out of the hospital. Jimmy went through his practice In half-hearted way. Hie cherished hopes had been "sat on." He believed in fairies asd luck, and therefore ln'"the Governor" and his turkeys, and he determined to find out more about them the next day, without saying anything about it to the scoffing Ned. Opportunity presented the following af ternoon. Jimmy waa getting rid of his last "extry," when he recognised aplen did figure coming up the street it was "the Governor!" With due awe and hesitation Jimmy approached him, and the smiling, good natured young man noticed it. "Well, youngster," be said, "you act as if you wanted to apeak to me." "I do, Governor."' "What's that?" exclaimed the other, puxzled. "Oh, I know you!" nodded Jimmy In a mysterious, Masonic way and blurted out his story, and asked to be put on "the two-turkey list." An amused expression crossed "the Governor's" face. He waa only trav eling jewelry salesman, but he could not mar this lad's bright faith. He looked Interested and grave when Jimmy told all hi story of hardship, hope and en deavor. "Jimmy Quinn," he said, taking out his note book and making an entry "Keep quiet about my being tba Governor, be cause I'm modest man, and don't like to attract attention." "Yes, sir," promised Jimmy fervently, proud of the confidence Implied. "Thanksgiving day, when your mother comes home, you shall have two turkeys, I pledge the Governor's royal word for It, friend Jimmy!" e Jimmy turned over In bed with a yell, and his brother grabbed him. He had been dreaming of ten thousand turkeya roasting on a spit mile long, and thought he fell in among them, so "Fire!" he shouted. "Bet your lifer' cried Ned. "Get up! There's corker of blaze somewhere!" Sure enough, there waa. The town waa astir. Half-dressed, the brothers were soon scudding wildly down the street "Jimmy," said Ned, brcathieasly, aa they turned the corner, "the Central's all ablaze!" The principal hotel of the little inland city was doomed. In the crush the broth ers became separated. Jimmy waa hurrying past a building ad joining, when he gave a quick stare. A man in hla shirt aleeves, batlcss and barefooted, dashed past him. "Why!" asld Jimmy, electrically, "it's the Governor!" The man darted up the dark stairs of the vacant building, next across brief court to the hotel. Jimmy put after him, he hardly knew why. Up one flight two, three the roof, through a scuttle, the man went before Jimmy overtook him. "The Governor" ran to the edge of the eaves and looked down. "No use!" Jimmy heard him groan. "Mr Governor, what'a the matter?" asked Jimmy, presenting himself In view. "Hey? Oh, it's yon? Well, my boy, I'm ruined, that'a all" . "Yes, sir; bnt why are yos up here?" "Because the fire drove me out of my room. In the excitement end peril I left behind a satched containing bnt It's gone op! I hoped I could cross to the roof " "Which room, sir?" demanded Jimmy, in the spsrkling ardor of mighty thought "That where this wire crosses to an arm, and cuts above the court Boy, atopl Jimmy!" Whiz! Jimmy had seized the wire. Like sprite he made a descent to which his practiced hands were Inured. Into the open window lost in the amoke moment, into view (gain, blind ed, apluttering, aatchel atrapped to hla arm! Tve got it r he yelled hilariously "For nwrcy'a sake, be careful."" remark ed the anxious "Governor." ' But Jimmy laughed. He even cut an acrobatic caper across the dangling wire, and, flushed and happy, landed on the opposite roof, teuJeriug the satchel with the words: "There yon are, Mr. Governor!" That sstchel contained "the Govern or's" samples, $'2i1,ntio In precious gems. When he wrote to his firm and then to the insurance people explaining Jiuimj's brave and daring exploit one sent check for $300, the other for double that mount. The happiest wmaa ia ChritUadom the bright Thanksgiving day ensuing was Mrs. Mary Quinn. Her "brave lads" bad placed JF900 in bank to her account. And, true to his promise, "the Gov ernor" saw that their merry dinner table was actually graced with two turkeya! GLEESON'S TURKEY. The Hired Man Waited for and Got His Revenge. ARVESTING w I over, and work at Farmer Uleeson'a be ing slacker than 'I i- & propless clothesline, cut was wade la the hired man's wages. It waa not big cut It could not be; for It is not possible to cut a universe from an atom. But it made big wound In the hired man's contentment and he determined to have revenge, although he made no open threat of that intention. Deep in his heart he muttered, "I'll git even with im." Now Mr. Gleeson possessed turkey of which he waa very proud. In com manding presence, in weight, in gobbling, in symmetry of drum-sticks, it had no peer, and scarcely rival. It was noted for miles around as the most magnificent of all turkeys ever raised In that section The farmer thought so much of his piece of property that In the sitting room he hung photograph nt the bird be tween the portraits of the first two Mrs. Glecsons. But he had good reason to regard It highly. It promised a great financial gain to him. Managers of the lesding hotels had deluged him with of fers for the turkey. They wanted It for Thanksgiving day. Bidding went on at furious and reckless rate, The contest excited the whole country. Prices rose and jumped. One noted bostelrykeeper added more interest by offering as supplementary bid a premium of tw dollars for every pound the turkey gain' ed. An enterprising rival raised the figure to three dollars. The farmer waa bending all his facilities to take the greatest possible advantage of these wonderful chances. The hired man acted as steward and pusher. It was his duty to keep the turkey supplied at all times with abun dant food. If the turkey's appetite fal tered from satiation, he prepared tit bits that would tempt the fullest crop. Even At night he awakened the poor, tired turkey and coaxed it to eat lunches. His teal was no less than the farmer s, aud the results he waa achieving were re markable. A gain of one pound a day was recorded several times, and half- pound additions were common. But this description treats of the time prior to the cut In wages. That event marked change in the bird's condition. There came lull In the Increase of weight The rate valued at dollars per day dwindled to centa worth; to noth ing; and finally represented an actual decline. No one seemed to know what caused the change. The fowl certainly consumed as much food as before, and Its appetite seemed more ravenoua. Why it should lose flesh under these conditions was a mystery at least to the farmer. He became very much alarmed, and had his family physician come and look at the turkey's tongue which the hired man exhibited, not without difficulty. But the doctor, though he prescribed tonic and cod-liver oil, did the falling bird no good. Ounce by ounce and pound by pound the precious weight disappeared; and bones began to be conspicuous. The poor farmer, bitterly disappoint ed, finally collapsed. A severe stroke kept him In bed for a week. When he recovered and saw his prize once more, he knew that the cheapest boarding house In the country would not have It. The very next day was Thanksgiving. He had eagerly looked forward to it, but now he sorrowfully hung crape around the turkey'a photograph. But there was to be little rift In his cloud of unbsppiness. One day the hired man said be would give fifty centa for the turkey If the photograph was tbrowu In as a chromo. Cheerfully the farmer accepted the offer. It waa so very unexpected. Then the hired man, as he jingled his coin, cried triumphsntly: "I've got evea with yer; I didn't doctor that 'er turkey for uutbiu'." The Meaning of It if Little Ersstus Poppy, why dey ssy Fsnksgibbiu' turkey, huh? Poppy Dat'a er cause yo' tank de owna ob de coop fo' lea bin' de do' open, St Louis Globe-Democrat ssisrfla'fgpjsfl ... GEO. P. CROVVELL, Successor to E. L. Smith, Oldest Established House in the valley. DEALER IN Dry Goods, Groceries, Boots and Shoes, Hardware, Flour and Feed, etc. Thii old-entablidhed house will con tinue to pay cash for all its Roods; it payi no rent; it employs a clerk, but does not have to divide with a partner. All dividends are made with customer! in the way of reasonable prices. Davenport Bros. Are running their two mills, planer and box factory, and can nil orders for Lumber Boxes, Wood and Posts ON SHORT NOTICK. DAVIDSON FRUIT CO. SHirrERa op ROOD RIVER'S HIS FRUITS PACKERS OP THI Hood River Brand cf Canned Fruits. MANUFACTURERS OP Boxes and Fruit Packages DEALKRS IN Fertilizers & Agricultural Implements THE REGULATOR LINE. Dalles, Portland & Astoria Navigation Co. DALLES BOAT Leaves Oak Street Dock, Portland 7 A. M. PORTLAND BOAT Leaves Dalles 7 A. M. Dally Ex cept Sunday. STEAMERS Regulator, Dalles City, Reliance. WHITE COLLAR LINE. The Dalles-Portland Route Str. "Bailey Gatzert," Bslwaaa Portland, The Oal.e and Way Points TIMS CARP Leaves Portland Tuesdays, Thnradays and Saturdays at 5 a. ni. Arrive, The limits, si ma day. 6 p. m. Leavea Ths Dalles Bnndsvn, Wednesday! and Fridays at 7 a. m. Arrives l'orlland, name Hay, 4 p. m. Thla route has the grandest scenic attraction! On earth. - Strm " Tahonta," Dally Round Trip-, exeunt Sunday. TIM K CARD. Leave rortland...7 a.m. I Leave Astoria.....7a.m. Landing and office . font of Alder street. Both 'phones, Main Sol, Portland, Or. E. W. CRrrilTON. Agent, Portland. JOHN M. FILLOON, Agent. The Hallo. A. J. TAYLOR, Agen, Antoriii. J. ('. V YATT, eent, Vancouver. WOLFOKD & WYEKH, Agla.. White Salmon. ' K. B. GILBKETH. Acent, Lyle, Wash. PRATHER A BARNES, Agunta st Hood River Oregon Shout Line and union Pacific mm. vTkn fm Hoed mr. A"'T1 Salt Lake, Denver, Chicago I Ft. orth.Omsha, Portland Special I Kansas city, 8t. Special 11:26a. m. i Louia,C'htwgoatiJ 2:06 p. m. East. Walls Walla twls- pnVan Uin,Bpokaii,Min- Portland Flyer neapolla.Ht. pant. Flyer t.et p.m. Dulmh. ijilttiin- 4:80a.m. ke,ClilcagoKajt Salt Lake, Denver, Wall end Ft. Worth.Omahs, Mail and Express Kansas City, St. Kxpres ll;4ip. m. Iouis,Cisluaeoaud k .42 a.m. Esau OCEAN AND RIVER SCHEDULE FROM FOKTLANI. 10 a.m. All aslllng date 4:00 p. a. subject tu change For Ban Frsncl fcail sverr e days Dally CeHimhla Rlisr i OO p. m. Ii.H.iunay Staaaairs. Ex. Suudar :(. m. faturday To Astoria and Way Hi:oa p. ni. Laudltica. Sttem. WIH.Mtia ttvr. 4:80 pm. Es. Bandar Oreaon City, New. Ex. Sunday bars. fUIin, Inits jeudence Waf i-andtnsa. 7 00 a. m. W!lla Taat- I St p.m. Tu , Tkur. s4N alters. Hon., i &d Frt Ore on city. Day. ton, A Wsy Ltud- In. 4m. Wi:iaart llw. 4m. . JhM Mon., We4. ad Bm. Portland ! Oeriat. sad FrL lis Way Laud- Jn- tt. Rlnsrta bkar.1 Eivss. Lv Uwlstoa i.SSa m. HI par U to Leviatoa t m. . "F daily Far lew rat and other Information writs ta A. L. CRAIQ, Oeseral Pus ncer Ami. PartUaA r BAG LET, A (eat, Bh4 Kli.r.