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8 -WEAK MEN™ For Vim, Vigor and Vitality go to the famous Minnesota State Med ical Institute, permanently located corner of Fifth and Robert Streets, St. Paul. Varicocele, Hydrocele, Syphilis, Gonorrhoea and all venereal diseases treated safely and confidentially. We absolutely cure these things to stay cured. Consultation free.- Call or write. Hours —8 a m. to 8 p. m. BY AMELIA E. BARR PART 11. (Copyright, 1900, by Amelia E. Barr) When Cornelia visited the Van Ariens' parlois Aivnta was already there. She was dressed in a gown or the blacivest and softest o£ bombazine crepe. II had a distinguishing want of all ornaments, but it was for that reason singularly ef tective against her delicate complexion and pale golden hair. She looked off handed and hardly spoke to her old friend, but Cornelia was prepared lor some exnibition oi anger. She had not been to see Arenta for a whole week, and she did not doubt that she had been well aware of something unusual in pro gress, but that Rem had accustd him .-elf did not occur to her, therefore sha was hardly prepared for the passionate accusation with which Arenta assailed ner. "I think," she said, "you have behaved disgracefully to poor Rem! You would not have him yourself, and yet you pre vent another girl—whom he x loves far tetter than ever he loved you—from mar rying him. He has gone away, 'out of the world,' he says, and indeed I should | not wonder if he kills himself. It is j most certain you have done all you can j to drive him to it." "Arenta! I have no idea what you mean. I have not seen Rem, nor written to Rem for more than two years." "Very 1 kely. but you have wr tten about ! him. You wiite to Miss Darner and told j !ier Rem purposely kept a letter which you had gaa\ to Lord Hyde." "I dm noi nor write to Miss Darner. I do not know the lady, but Rem did keep I a letter than belonged to Lord Hyde." Then anger gave falsehood the bit, and •he answered: "Rem did not keep any Setter that belonged to Lord Hyde. Prove that he did so before you accuse him. You cannot." "I unfortunately directed Lord Hyde's letter to Rem. and Kern's letter to Lord Hyde. Rem knew that he had Lord Hyde's letter and he should have taken it at once to him." "Lord Hyde ' had Rem's letter. He ought to have taken it at once to Rem." "There was not a word in Rem's letter to identify it as belonging to him." "Then you ought to be ashamed to write love letters that would do for any man that received them. A poor hand you must be to blunder over two love ietters. 1 have had eight and ten at once to answer, and I have never fafied to dis tinguish each, and while rivers run into the sea 1 never shall misdirect my love letters. I do not believe Rem ever got your letter, and 1 will not believe it, either now or ever I dare be bound Balthazer lost on the way. Prove to me he did not." "Oh, indeed! I think you know better. "Very clever Is Lord Hyde to excuse himself by throwing the blame on poor Rem. Very mean indeed to accuse him to the girl he was going to marry. To be sure, any one with an ounce of com mon sense to guide them must see through the whole affair." "Arenta, I have the most firm convic tion of Rem's guilt, and the greatest | concern fo rhis disappointment. I assure I you I have." "Kindly reserve your concern, Miss Mo ran, till Rem Van Ariel's asks for it. As for his guilt, there is no guilt in the question. Even supposing that Rem did keep Lord Hyde's letter, j^hat then? All things are"^ fair in love and war. Willie Nicholls told me last night he would keep a hundred letters If he thought he could win me by doing so. Any man of sense would." "All I blame Rem for is—" "All I blame Rem for is that he asked you to marry him. So much for that. I hope if he meddles with women again he will seek an all around common sense Dutch girl, who will know how to direct her letters—or else be content with on« lover." "Arenta, I shall go now. I have giv en you an opportunity to be rude and unkind. You cannot expect me to do that again." She watched Cornelia across the street then turned to the mirror and - wound her ringlets over her fingers. "I don't care," she muttered: "It was her fault to begin with. She tempted Rem and he fell Men always fall when women tempt them; it is their nature to. I am going to stand by Rem, right or wrong, and I only wish I could tell Mary Darner what I think of her. She has another lover, of course she has—or she would not have talked about her 'honor' to Rem." To such thoughts she was raging when Peter Van Ariens came home to dinner, and she could not restrain them. He listened for a minute or two and then struck the tab'e no gentle blow. "In my house, Arenta," he said. "I will have no such words. What you think, you think, but such thoughts must be shut close in your mind. In keeping that letter I say Rem behaved like a scoundrel. He was cruel and he was a coward. Because he is my son I will not excuse him. No, indeed! Far that very reason the more angry I am at such a deed. Now, then, he shall ack nowledge to George Hyde and Cornelia Mora,n the wrong he did them, ere in my home and my heart he rights himself." "Is Cornelia going to be married?" "That Is what I hear." "To Lord Hyde?" "That also is what I hear." "Well, as T am in mourning I can not go to the wedding, so then I am delighted to have told her a little of my mind." . ."It is a great marriage for the doctor's daughter—a countess she will be." "And a marquise I am. And will you please say if either marquise or countess is any better than mistress or madame! Thank all the powers that be! I have learner! the value of a title, and I shall change marquise for mistress as soon as 1 can do so.' "If always you had thought thus, a great deal of sorrow we had both been spcLrcf*. J'^y"' then, a &srl cannot get her share or wisdom till she comes to it. After all AvJ^V nOW T so^T y l hay€ quarreled with Ccwnelm. In New York and Philadelphia she will be a great woman." "T,° ta*L e offense is a great folly, and to give offense is a greater folly-I know not winch Is the greatest, Arenta." Oh. indeed, father," she answered "if I am hurt and angry I shal Hake the lib erty to say so. Anger that it hidden cannot be gratified, and if people use me badly, it is my way to toll them I am aware of it. One may be obliged to eat brown bread, but I, for one, would say it is brown bread and not white " • Yc.ir own way you will take until in ( some great trouble you stumble" And then my own way I shall tnko until out of it I stumble." "I have told Rem what he must do Like a man he must say. "I did wronsr and I am sorry for it,' and so well I think of those he has wronged as to be sure they will answer, 'It is for "And forgotten." "That is different. To forgive freely Is what we owe to our enemies; to forget not is what we owe to ourselves " "But if Rem' fault Is forgiven and not forgotten what good will it do him. I have seen that every one forgives much In themselves they find unpardonable in others." "In so far, Arenta. we are all at fault " "I think it is cruel, father, to ask Rem to speak the truth to his own injury. Even the law is kinder than you. It asks no man to.accuse himself." "Risht wrongs no man. Till others move in this matter you be quit\ If you talk evil words you will say; and mind this, Arenta, the evil that comes out of your lips in your own bosom will fall. AU my life have I seen this." But Arenta would not be quiet. She would sow thorns and her father's ad vice moved her no more than a breath moves a mountain. In in the same af ternoon she saw Madame Jacobus goin? to Dr Moran's, and the hour she re mained there was full of misery to her Goec? Minnesota Patent Flour. $1.75 nor 98-lb. Sack -»«* ****** Vimmsmsmsam impetuous self-adoring heart. She was sure they were talking of Rem and her seit, and as she had all their conclusions in accord with her suspicions. But she met her aunt at the door and brought her eagerly into the parlor. She had no visitors that day, and was bored and restless with longing for conversa tion. "I saw you go to the doctors's an hour ago, aunt," she said. "I hope the captain is well." "Jacobus is quite well, thank God—and Dr. Moran—and Cornelia. I have been looking at some of her wedding gowns. A girl so happy and who deserves to be so happy I never saw. What a darling she is!" It is now the fashion to rave about her. I suppose they found time* enough to abuse poor Rem, and you could listen to them! I would not have done so! No!< not if listening had meant salvation to the whole Moran family." "You are a remarkably foolish young woman. They never named Rem." Peo ple so happy do not remember the bringer of sorrow. He has been shut out—in the darkness and cold. But I heard from Mme. Van Heemskirk why Cornelia and that delightful young man were not mar ried two years ago. I am ashamed of Rem. I can never forgive him. He is a disgrace to the family, and that is why I came here today. I wish you to make Rem understand that he must not come near his Uncle Jacobus. When Jacobus is angry he will call heaven and earth and hell to help him speak his mind, and I have nearly cured him of the habit, which is so distressing to me, and such a great wrong to his own soul. The very sight of Rem would break every barrier down and let a flood loose that would make him suffer afterward. I will not have Jaoobus laid in such temptation. I have not heard an oath from him in six months." "1 suppose you would never forgive Ja cobus if you did hear one." "That is another matter. I hope I have a heart to forgive whatever Ja cobus does or says. He is my husband." "It is then less wicked to blaspheme Almighty God than to keep one of Lord Hyde's love letters. One fault may be forgiven, the other is unpardonable. Dear me! How religiously ignorant I am. As for my uncle swearing—anu the passions that thus express themselves—everybody knows that anything that distinctly re sembles good temper will suit Capt. Ja cobus." "You look extremely handsome when you are scornful. Arenta, but it is not worth while wasting your charms on me. I am doing what I can to help Ja^ cobus keep his tongue clean, and 1 will not have Rem lead him into temptation. As for Rem, he is guilty of a great wrong, and he must now do what his father told him to do—work day and night, as men work when the bridge is broken down. The ruin must be got cut of the way, the bridge rebuilt, then It will be possible to open some pleas ant traffic and possible traffic with hu man beings again—not to speak of hea ven." "You are right—not to speak of heaven. I think heaven would be more charitable. Rem will not tr.ouble Capt. Jacobus. For my part I think that a man that cannot bear temptation Is very poorly refoimed. If my uncle could see Rem and yat keep his big and little oaths under bonds. I should believe in his clean tongue." "Arenta, you are tormenting yourself with anger and ill-will, and above all with jealousy. In this way you are go ing to miss a great deal of pleasure I advise you not to quarrel with Cornelia. She will be a great resource. I myself am looking forward to the delightful change Jacobus will have at Hyde Man or. It will make a new life for him, and also for me. This afternoon something is vexing you. I shall take no offense. You will regret your bad temper tomor row." Tomorrow Arenta did regret, but peo people do not always say they are sorry when they feel so. She sat in the shad ow of her window curtain and watched the almost constant stream of visitors} and messengers and tradespeople at Dr. Moran's house, and she longed to have her hands among the lovely things and to give her opinion about the delightful events sure to make the next two weeks" full of interest and pleasure. And after fche had received a letter from Rem. she' ro»ilved to humble herself that she mtelit be exalted. "Rem is already fortunate, and I can't help him by lighting his battles. Forget fulness is the word. For this wrong can have no victory, and to be forgotten is the only hope for It. Beside, Cornelia had her full share in my happiness, and I will not let myself be defrauded of my share In her happiness—not for a few words. No, certainly not." This reflection a few times reiterated resulted in the following note: "My Dear Cornelia—l want to say so much that I cannot say anything, but —fogive me. I am shaken to pieces by my dreadful sufferings, and sometimes I do not know what I say even to those 1 love. Blame my sad fortune for my bad words, and tell me you long to forgive me as I long to be forgiven." —"Your Arenta." That will be sufficient," she reflect ed, "and, after all, Cornelia is a sweet girl. I am her first and dearest friend and I am determined to keep my place. It has made me very angry to see those Van Dien girls and those Sherman girls running in and out of the Moran house as if they own Cornelia. Well, then, if I have had to eat humble pie, I have had my say, and that takes the bitter taste out of my mouth, and a sensible woman must look to her future. I dare warrant, Cornelia is now answering my letter. I dare warrant, she will forgive me very sweetly." She spent half an hour in such re flections and then Cornelia entered with a smiling faoe. She would not permit Arenta to say another word of regret She stifled all her self-reproaches in aii embrace, and she took her back with her to her ewn home and no further re pentance embarrassed Arenta. She put her ready wit and her clever hands to a score of belated things, and snubbed and contradicted Van Dien and Sherman girls into a respectful obedience to her earlier friendship, and wider experience Everything that she directed or took charge of went with an unmistakable vigor to completion, and even Madame Van Heemskirk was delighted with her abnity and grateful for her assistance. The poor Arenta," she said to Mrs Moran. "Very helpful she is to us and for her brother's fault she is not to blame. Wrong it would be to visit it on And Arenta not only felt this gracious justice to herself, she looked much fur ther forward, for she said to her father: It is really for Ren's sake that I am so obliging. By and bye people will say there is no truth in mat letter story • Ihe marquise Is a friend of Lady Hdye, they are like clasped hands, and that could not be so if Rem Van Ari»ns had done such a dreadful thing. It is all nonsense and if I hear a word about it Xr^fM^™' 8 "*«• 'h — *™ So happily the time went on that it aD peared wonderful when Christmas was close at hand. Every preparation was then complete. The Manor hou«e was very picture of splendid comfort, and day by day Cornelia's exquisite wardrobe came nearer to perfection. It was a very joy to go into the Moran house. The mother, with a happy light upon her face went to and fro, with that habitual sweet serenity which kept the temperature of expectant pleasure at a degree not too exhausting for continuance. The doctor was so satisfied with affairs that he was ofter heard timing his firm, strong steps to snatches of long-forgotten military songs, and Cornelia, knowing her lover THE ST. PAUL GLOBE, MONDAY, OCOTBER 29, 1900. was every day coming nearer and nearer was just as happy as a girl loving ana well beloved ought to be. Sorrow was all behind her, and the great joy was com ing to meet her. Until mortal love should become immortal she could hope for no sweeter interlude in life. Her beauty had increased wonderfully, hope had more than renenewed her "youth, and confident love had given to her face and form a splendor of color and expres sion that captivated everybody, though why or how they never asked—she charm ed because she charmed; she was the love, the honey, the milk of sweetest human nature. One day the little bevy of feminine counselors looked at their work and pro nounced all beautiful and all finished, and then there was a lull in the busy household, and then every one was con scious of being a little weary, and every one also felt that it would be well to let hearts and brains, and fingers and feet rest. In a few days there would likely be another English letter, and they could then form some idea as to when Lord Hyde would arrive The last letter re ceived from him had been written in Lon don, and the ship in which he was to sail was taking on cargo, while he impatiently waited at his hotel for notice of her be ing ready to lift anchor. The doctor thought it highly probable Hyde would follow this letter in a week or perhaps less. During this restful interval Dr. and Mrs. Moran drove out one afternoon to Hyde Manor house. A message from Madame Van Heemskirk asked this favor from them. She wished naturally that they should see how exquisitely beautiful and comfortable was the home which her Joris had trusted her to prepare for his bride, but she did not wish Cornelia to see it until the bridegroom himself took her across the threshhold. "An old wo man's fancy, is it?" she said to Mrs. Mo ran, "but no harm is there in it, and not much do I like women who bustle about their houses and have no fancies at all." "Nor I," answered Mrs. Moran, with a merry little laugh. "Do you know that [All Rights Reserved.] J/f^ollfs fortunes* By "M. E. FRANCIS"—Author of "In a North Country Village." etc. CHAPTER I. WANTED AN HEIR. The October day was drawing to its close. Lamps were flashing out along the darkening Dublin streets; in some hcuses shutters were closed, lr others less exclusive blinds were drawn down, leaving little rims of light to hint -of warmth and cheerfulness within. Out side the prospect was dreary enough; a lint', close, blinding rain fell with a steady, exasperating determination that denoted continuance; umbrellas bobbed ceaselessly up and flown the muddy streets, unprotected hats dripped, water proofs rustled, cabs with closed windows ratt.ed over the pavement, while trams ve-re literally gorged wltn occupants. "Room for one more inside," cried the conductor of one of the last named con veyances, as a stout, elderly gentleman hoisted himself slowly off the slippery step, his place being immediately pounced upon by a severe looking old lady who had hitherto balanced herself insecurely or. the little round stool at the further end. "Comin', miss? All right, miss— yell find a place beyond." A girl sprang in, dashing the rain drops from her bright, rose face, and apologetically carrying her dripping um brella w.ell in front of her as she found her way to the end of the train, her slim, supple figure swaying as the horses ■started again, and one little hand cling ing to the strap that depended from the roof. Nothing could be more con ventional than her attitude, more com monplace than her surroundings^ yet Mol- THE REVERSE. "She is what I call an over dressed woman. ' 9 "You should have seen her last summer when she was in bathing." ly Mackenzie had the faculty of looking picturesque under all circumstances and was a perfect study as she now stood in the flare of the lamp light. Little rings of curly brown hair escaped from under her felt hat and strayed round a very white forehead; the color that the cold air caused to mantle in her cheeks was of the most transparent rose, the eyes of true Irish t>iue, while the small, saucy nose, with just a suspicion of the "tip-tilted" about it, the mouth with its corners curving slightly up wards to match, the little delicate ears, were all chiselled with a care and finish such as nature only bestows on her mas terpieces. Sh was very plainly dressed, and there was an ease and self-reliance in her manner which showed she was well used to going out alone notwithstanding her youth and unusual beauty; but that she was a thorough lady no one could for an instant doubt. The passengers one and all glanced up at her as she passed, even the most stolid amongst them evincing a certain interest The old lady before mentioned, who had been carefully gathering up her skirts out of the reach of the alarming um brella, relaxed somewhat on receiving a deprecating glance from its owner; a young bank clerk extended an officious hand to assist her progress, while a dark gloomy looking gentleman, hastily rising, signed to her to take his place. He himself retired to uncomfortable stool (the only other vacant one) from which he glared defiantly round as though challenging comments on his gal lantry. The girl seated herself with a little smiling bow of acknowledgment, and the company, recovering from its momentary excitement, relapsed inte the dreary con sciousness of the close-packed and damp discomfort within, and the yet more un pleasant prospect without. After stead- •*?*•* John to buy my wedding ring too wlde- because I often heard my mother ? ay, *!}£* a tight wedding ring was un l? cky?*. ,,T£ en both women smiled and began delightedly to look over together the stores of fine linen and damask which the mother of Joris had laid up for her son s use. It was a charming visit, and the sweet pause in the vivid life of the past few weeks was equally charming to Cornelia. She rested in her room till the short day light ended, and then she went to the parlor and drank ar cup of tea and closed the curtains, and sat down by the hearth to wait for her f*th«r and mother. It was likely that they would be a little late but the moon was full and M\q sleighing perfect. And then she was sure they would have co much to tell her when they did rea*h. home. So still was the house, so still was the little street, that she easily went to the land of revery and lost herself there. She thought over.and again all her life with her lover, recalled his sweet spirit, his loyal affection, his handsome face and enchanting manner. "Heaven made me so fortunate," she thought, "and now my fortune has arrived at my wishes. Even his delay is sweet. I desire to think of ? .v ~ all other thoughts are forgot ten! Oh, what lover could be loved as I love him!" .Then with a soft but quick movement the door flew open, she lifted her eyes, to nil them with love's very image and vesture, and with a cry of joy flew to meet the ioy so long afar, but now so near- Oh, lovely and beloved O. my love! Hyde cried, a»d then there was a twofold silence; the very ecstacy that no mortal words can utter. The sacred hour for which their lives had longed was at last dropped down to them from heaven. Between their kisses they spoke of things remembered, and of things to be, leaning to each other in visible sweet ness, while "Love breathed in sighs and silence .Ihrough two blent souls, one rapturous undersong." (The End.) ily jogging onwards for some minute.?, during which nothing more important oc curred than the frequent taking up or setting down of melancholy passengers, the car came to a standstill, awaiting the arrival of another from the opposite direction. "I must say ft is annoying to have to wait so long on such a night," complain ed the sour old lady, when some min utes had elapsed without the expected tram approaching. "Mismanaged, as-usual," growled the dark gentleman. "Tbey always misman age these sort of things in Dublin." "Quite true, sir. perfectly true," cried his next door neighbor, thumping his um brella on the floor in token of assent. "We are the most unbusinesslike people in the world. There Js no order, no method, anywhere amongst us. Our good nature alone, sir, one of the strongest national characteristics, is enough to ruin us. I heard a story the other day which shows the sort of thing that goes on. Lady arrived at country station, missed her train, and was much annoy ed in consequence. Grumbled to the sta tion master. 'Very sorry, ma'am,' says he, 'if I'd known you were coming, I'd have loitered the train!' Ha! ha! I cm quite believe that's-true. The murmur of mingled amusement and disapprobation was suddenly domi nated by a shrill cry without, and th« general attention was diverted to a somewhat unequal combat which was be ing carried on between two young news paper vendors close to the tram, tho smaller of whom was receiving a vig- orous castigation from his opponent. "Oh, do stop them, somebody," cried Molly, starting up and hastening to the door, "don't you see the little one is not a match for the other? Won't somebody get out and stop them?" Nobody present, however, was suf ficiently philanthropic to respond to this invitation, especially as the rain was Coming down more heavily than before, and the long-expected tram had just rounded the corner and was now rapid ly approaching. The dark gentleman did indeed murmur something unintelli gible, and the bank clerk half rose from his seat as though to comply, but, think ing of it, sank down again, and pretend ed to be absorbed irr his newspaper. "Aisy now, miss/ cried the conductor, "sure it can't do. him a ha'porth of harm. Here's theriothser car. Sit down now do, miss, we?re^ too late as it is, an' no wan has the^ time to be lookin' atther them owdatioos young scamps." "Then I'll loote'after them myself," cried Molly, swiagin® herself suddenly off the car just as it was set in motion, aud bringing the ;*lier of the combat ants to his sense* by a poke with her umbrella; passangrerft and conductors alike gazing at her in amazement from the rapidily retreafcinfc, vehicle. "Odd girl that, very*" said the gentle man with the umbrella. "I'm glad th« conductor didn't waste any more time talking to her. Dears me! what a night to be out in the ralh.K "Our good natufce wJoesn't always In terfere with ouir common sense, it seems, muttered the bank clerk. In the meantime Molly forgot alike the pouring rain, the muddy pavement and the departing tram in her endeavors to subdue the wrath of the elder of her proteges and to console the younger, whose valor had deserted him, and who was now ignominiously reduced to tears. "I couldn't stand his impudence, miss, 1 Promotesurgesfion,Cheeiftd ness andßestContains neither Opmm,Morplilneiiof>imeiai. Not Narcotic* JtKWeafOldllrSff'lLZLPmMJZ A perfect Remedy for Cons lipa tion.SourStoinach.Diarrhoea, 1 Worms .Convulsions.Feverish- 1 ness and LOSS OF SLEEP. TacSinule Signature of new Vohk! 1 rj -1 ■ H EXACT COPy OF WRAPPER. an' that's the thrute," explained the one. 'He's after murderin' me entirely!" wept the other. Molly scolded, remonstrated, and con doled; and finally had the satisfaction of seeing the two belligerents shake hands and march amicably off together to buy a couple of buns with the pennies she bestowed on them. "Now, I had better make my way homewards," she said to herself. "Dear, dear, how dark it is—what will auntie say? There won't be another tram for twenty minutes—l suppose I must walk." She trudged off bravely, though the water poured from her cotton umbrella, and began to penetrate in many places through her somewhat ancient water proof. After a quarter of an hour's brisk walking &he reached her destination, a tiny little house, one of a modest row in the neighborhood of Donnybrook, with a few sickly evergreens on either side of the flight of steps in front, a small green door, and a large brass knocker. After a sturdy application of the latter the door was flung open, and a tall, port ly, sandy-haired lady appeared within. "Is that you, child, at last? What have you been doing? You can'.t think how anxious I've been. I particularly wanted you to be back early, and you must needs choose tonight of all nights In the year to stay out in the wet."' Molly entered, giving herself a little shake like a dog after a swim, and hold ing out two small deprecating hands in dripping glores to her aunt. "I'm sorry," she began, but was in terrupted by a scream from the latter. "Oh, child, how dreadfully wet you are! .Don't come near me whatever you do, for I have got my best dress" on. Dear ..me! the water is pouring off your things, and your umbrella—o—h! there's a stream, quite a stream coming fxojn it. I've got my. new shoes on, too. Come down to the kitchen like a dear, good girl, and take off your wet clothes there." With this Mrs. Mackenzie led the way to the lower regions, and there superin tended her niece as she changed her gar ments, while the solitary domestic of the establishment busied herself in prepara tions f®r tea. -After the first outburst the good lady's volubility appeared to have deserted her. and she listened to Molly's explanations in unusual silence, the expressions of dis approval, moreover, to which she gave utterance, at the end being much fainter than the latter had anticipated. "So you got wet through—your good dress and all —and tired out, besides be ing late for tea, for the sake of two lit tle ragamuffins? Just like you! always doing absurdly quixotic things. Now let me ask you this: what good do you sup pose came of your interference?" • • ' ->. great deal of good," responded Moi ly promptly. "I saved the little bo/ a cuffing for one thing, and awakened the big one's conscience for another. Now I'm ready"—giving her curly hair a pat or two as though to amend its pictur esque disorder, and turning sharply round to leave the kitchen—"and I do so want my tea. No"—in answer to an expostulation from the rear—"I'm not going to brush my hair, and I don't want to wash my hands, the rain has done that for me. I want my tea, and I want to know why you have got on your new i Show us a fault in our busi ness and we stop it at once, no' matter how profitable. We don't believe a fault can ever j be really profitable. They said our Ague Cure was too bitter and .powerful for the weak digestion of malarial illness. We have corrected the fault. It's cost us thousands of dol lars to do it, but we have cor rected it. And there is no better medi cine under the sun for every ' form of malaria than this new Malaria and Ague Cure. J. C. Ayer Company, Practical Chemittt, Lowell, Mas«. 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The Children's Panacea—The Mother's Friend. GENUINE CASTORIA ALWAYS rf Bears the Signature of The Kind You to Always Bought In Use For Over 30 Years. THE CEWT«UR COMPANY. 77 MURRAY aTHtCT. NEW YORK CITY. shoes on Thursday—something extraordi nary must have happened!" "Hush—sh—sh!'' came in a laborious whisper from behind, as Mrs. Mackenzie hastened up the wooden stairs in nor wake, "the servant, Molly; mind what you say before the servant!" "Auntie, I'll be as careful as if I was the czar of Russia, and Kate a whole Nihilist suite. But I really must, know what is the matter—why you are so mys terious and so queer. You haven't even scolded me, you know, and I did rather deserve a scolding, I must own. Now, what is the meaning of it all? Here, come in quick—" impetuously drawing her aunt into the tiny parlor, and banging the door to—"now, auntie, now!" "Well, my dear, after you left this morning Kate brought me a note from Mr. Burke, asking if he might call to see me on a very important matter."' Here Mrs. Mackenzie paused. "Well?" breathlessly from Molly.. "Well, I considered it would be right, as a mark of respect to this old friend of cur family (a lawyer too) to change my dress. I did so, and he came." An other pause. "Aunt, why can't you go on?" with the ptettiest little frown in the world. "What on earth is there to be so mysterious about?" ""He began," said Mrs. Mackenzie, whose solemnity had no whit relaxed, "he be gan by asking which branch of the O'Neills your mother belonged to; so I told him. It was well for her, my d?ar, that your poor uncle so often dinned your pedigree into my ear's—he was proud of the O'Neill connection, why, I never could think, for it seems to me a well-to do Mackenzie is as good as an impov erished O'Neill any day, and the Macken zies were well-to-do not long ago. Well, my dear, Mr. Burke was delighted, de lighted, I assure you; and when I told him of tho3e old papers in your mother's desk, and how your uncle said they would enable you to trace your descent ever so far back, he. almost jumped for joy." "Yes, but who wants to know about it?" cried Molly, too much interested to make any flippant comments upon that aston.sh ing possibility of good, rotund, gouty Mr. Burke being led away by his rapture to indulge in athletic feats. "I'm going to tell you—don't interrupt like that," returned Mrs. Mackenzie some what testily. "It seems Mr. Burke has lately been appointed man of business, or legal adviser, or whatever you may call it, to a very rich eccentric old lady, a Miss O'Neill, who, he says, takas nobody's advice that he can see, and tran?acts most of her business herself. Weli, this old lady sent for him the. other day, and to his great surprise condescended to con sult him. It seems that she is the sole representative, at least so far as any body can make out, of the elder branch of the family. Of course there are O'-Neills by the score, but not her ONe l'.s. There was an immense clan of them once, but what with troubled times and some of them emigrating and others going abroad, they were scattered"—here Mrs. Mackenzie swept her extended arms through the air and waved them up and down to express wide dispersion—"scat tered' in the most pitiable way, and in Tact have nearly all died out. The younger branch, however, to which you belong, kept more together. I rather think they conformed, or something." "I'm sure they did not!" interrupted Molly, indignantly. "Pray how do you know?" retorted her aunt. "Your poor uncle used to complain that you never took the slight est interest, even when he talked to you about your grandmother; you are not likely, I think, to be well up in the doings of your more remote ancestors. What was I saying? You- do confuse me so. The younger branch of the O'Nellls kept more together, and con tinued fairly prosperous till '98, when most of them were killed, ruined and dispersed, like the others. At the be ginning of this century Hugh O'Neill, your great grandfather, and his son were the sole representatives of that branch of the family. Do you follow me?" "I think I do," returned Molly. "It's rather confusing, you know; what with this branch and that branch —but 1 am all attention." "Your great grandfather," pursued Mrs. Mackenzie, solemnly, "went to The bad. Mr. Bu*rke said he was a regular scamp—or was it a rake? I'm not sure which; but I remember thinking it a very vulgar word, and wondering? at his using it." "Never mind—the fact is the same," put in Molly, impatiently. "We was 'no great shakes,' as Kate would say. What did he do?" "It is well to be accurate, Molly, and I am trying to remember Mr. Burkes exact words, so that there may be no confusion. Hugh O'Neill was a very bad man, very bad, and after doing all sorts of wicked things, he lost his money. His oldest son emigrated to America and was never heard of after. His youngest —there were only two—remained at home, living in great poverty, married, and die-.l in a few years, leaving an- only daugh ter. That daughter was your mother, Molly, so that you are the only repre sentative in direct descent of the younger branch of the great O'Neill family.' "What, the mighty tree reduced to one poor little twig!" laughed Molly, whose blue eyes flashed with excitement. "It's a very mixed up story, but interesting too. Why did none of my relations ever find me out before?" "Well. I asked Mr. Burke that, and he explained it to me, but I did not alto gether understand. He said that you could not say Miss ONe-ill was a rela tion of yours, for that, for years upon years, the two branches, though spring ing from the same root, were really dis tinct and separate. After your great grandfather's misconduct, his descend ants were completely ignored by the eld er representatives of the line. Now, however.Miss O'Neill, finding her self alone in the world, and with the prospect of going out of it in a few years, for she is nearly eighty, is look ing about for an heir. Fa.'ling\ notwith standing all her researches, to discover any representatives of the elder O'Neils, she turned her attention to the younger, and on consulting Mr. Burke as to the best manner of tracing them, was over joyed when he —as he assured me— in stantly named you. Well for you, my dear, that your uncle was so fond of 'posing,' aa you called it, about the O'Neils, otherwise it would never have occurred to Mr. Blake to thing of you; and well for you, too. that I have.a good memory, and was able to satisfy him as to particulars. He went back to the old lady at once, and tomorrow you are to go and see her. You are to "pay her a long visit." "Why?" cried, Molly, starting up with flaming cheeks. "What? Am I?" "Hush—sh. my dear, let me finish." said Mrs. Mackenzie triumphantly.."Yes you are to be inspected by Miss* O'Neill and if she Ls pleased with you, it is more than probable that she will make you her heir!" (To be continued.) If your hat is a Gordon, that is all you need to know. _ m Most Convenient Train To Madison. Wauxesha, JanesvlMe. i<= via the North-Western Line, leaves Minne apolis, 10:40 p. m.; Sr. Paul, 11:10 p. m ; arrive Madison, 8:00 a. m.; Wn-ikesha 10:00 a. m.; Milwaukee, 10:50 a. m.: Janes ville, 10:10 a. m.; Chicago, 12.25 noon. Im mediate connection at Chicago with fast trains for New Jork and Boston and for Nashville, Cincinnacl and South. DEATHS VIEVERING—In St. Paul. Oct. 27. 1900, William Vievering Sr., aged lorty-sevejj years. Funeral from residence of Wfil- 1 lam Vievering Jr., 59^ Mt. Airy street Tuesday. Oct. 30. at 8:30 a. m. "Services at St. Bernard's church at 9 a. m. AMUSEMENTS. 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W rou u» for paper plates or films Universal reveloper »nd also th« Qreen Mypo FisJa/ oath made only by Picture making will ba plain sailing and your tin will bo cornm«nd»d For aal> li\ ovary city it tho United Suits. < EDWARDS 1917-L2 \ \ CUTS THE 339 BROWN'S CAPSULES^iS^