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(Copyright, A- C. McClure 4k Co-. 1910.> SYNOPSIS. Jack Keith, a Virginian, now a bor der plainsman, is riding along the Santa Fe trail on the lookout for roaming war X'arties of savages. He notices a camp fire at a distance and then sees a team attached to a wagon and at full gallop pursued by men on ponies. When Keith reaches the wagon the raiders have mass acred two men and departed. He searches the victims finding papers and a locket with a woman’s portrait. He resolves to hunt down the murderers. Keith is ar rested at Carson City, charged with the murder, his accuser being a ruftian named Hia< k Hart. He goes to jail fully realiz ing the peril of swift border justice. A companion in his cell Is a negro, who tells him he Is Neb and that he knew the Keith family back In Virginia. Neb says one of the murdered men was John Sibley, the other Gen. Willis Waite, for merly an oftifer in the Confederate army. The plainsman and Neb escape from the cell, and later the two fugitives become lost in the sand desert. They come upon a cabin and find its lone occupant to be a young girl, whom Keith recognizes as a singer he saw at Carson City. The girl explains that she came there in search of a brother who had deserted from the army. A Mr. Hawley induced her to come to the cabin while he sought to lo cate her brother. Hawley appears. CHAPTER X.—(Continued.) “A murder! Did you imagine fie ramp this way?” "Not very likely; fact of it is, the sand storm yesterday destroyed all traces, and, as a result, we’ve lost him. So I headed a few of the boys over in this direction, as I wanted to relieve you of anxiety.” She was silent an instant, and the man crossed to the fireplace, where Keith could gain a glimpse of him. Already suspicious from the familiar sound of his voice, he was not sur prised to recognize “Black Bart.” The plainsman’s fingers gripped the negro’s arm, his eyes burning. So this gambler and blackleg was the gentlemanly Mr. Hawley, was he; well, what could be his little game? Why had he Inveigled the girl into this lonely sjKit? And what did he now propose doing with her? As he crouched there, peering through that convenient crack in the door, Keith completely forgot his own peril. Intent only upon this new dis covery. She came slowly around the end of the table, and stood leaning against it, her face clearly revealed in the light of the lamp. For the first time Keith really perceived its beauty, fis fresh charm. Could such as she be singer and dancer in a frontier con cert hall? And if so, what strange conditions ever drove her into that sort of life? “Is —is Fred with you?” she Ques tioned, doubtfully. “No; he's with another party riding farther west,” the man’s eyes survey ing her with manifest approval. “You are certainly looking fine to-night, my girl. It’s difficult to understand how 1 ever managed to keep away from you so long.” She flushed to • the hair, her lips trembling at the open boldness of his tone. "I—l prefer you would not speak like that.” she protested. “And why not?” with a light laugh. “Come, Christie, such fine airs are a trifle out of place. If I didn’t know you were a concert hall arcist, I might be more deeply Impresses. As it Is. 1 reckon you’ve heard love words be fore now.” “Mr. Hawley, I have trusted you as a gentleman. I never came here ex cept on your promise to bring me to my brother," and she stood erect be fore him. “You tiayrj no right to even assume that 1 am Christie Maclaire.” "Sure net; 1 don’t assume. I have seen that lady too often to be mis taken. Don’t try on that sort of thing with me—l don’t take to it kindly. Perhaps a kiss might put you in bet ter humor.” He took a step forward, as though proposing to carry out his threat, but the girl stopped him, her eyes burn ing with indignation. “How dare you!” she exclaimed pas sionately, all fear leaving her In sud den resentment. “You think me alone here and helpless; that you can insult me at your pleasure. Don’t, go too far. Mr. Hawley. I know what you are now, anti it makes no difference what you may think of me, or call me; you’ll find me perfectly able to defend myself.” “Oh, indeed!” sneerlngly, "you are melodramatic; you should have been an actress Instead of a singer. But you waste your talent out here on me. Do you imagine I fear either you, or your precious brother? Why. I could have him hung to-morrow.” She was staring at him with wide open eyes, her face white. "What —what do you mean? What has Fred done?" He was cold and sarcastic. "That makes no difference; It is what I could induce men to swear he had done. It’s easy enough to convict in this country. If you only know how. I simply tell you this, so you won’t press me too hard. Puri tanism is out of place west of the Mis souri, especially among ladies of your profession. Oh, come, now, Christie, don’t try to put such airs on with me. I know who you are, all right, and can guess why you are hunting after Fred Willoughby. I pumped the boy, and got most of the truth out of him.” “You —you have seen him, then, since you left me.” she faltered, be wildered, “and didn’t bring him here with you?” “WTiy should I?” and the man stepped forward, bis eyes on her, his hands twitching with a desire to clasp her to him, yet restrained by some un definable power. “‘While I believed your brother story, I could have play ed the good Samaritan most beautiful ly, but after I talked with Willoughby I prefer him at a distance.” “My brother story! Do you mean to insinuate you doubt his being my brother? He told you that?” "He gave up the whole trick. You can’t trust a kid like that. Christie. A couple of drinks will loosen hia ton- They Were Fighting for Life Silently, Desperately. gue, and put you in wrong. Come, now, 1 know it all; be reasonable.” Apparently the girl had lost her power of speech, staring blindly at the face of the man before her, as a bird meets the slow approach of a snake. Keith could see her lips move, but making no sound. Hawley evidently interpreted her silence as hesitation, doubt as to his real meaning. “Ycu see where you are at now, Christie,” he went on swiftly. “But you don’t need to be afraid. I’m going to be a friend to you, and you can be mighty glad you got rid of Willoughy so easily. Why. I can buy you dia monds where he couldn’t give you a calico dress. Come on, let’s stop this foolishness. I took a liking to you back there in the stage, and the more I’ve thought about you since the crazier I’ve got. When I succeeded In pumping Willoughby dry, and discov ered you wasn’t his sister at all, why that settled the matter. I came down here after you. I love you, do you un derstand that? And, what’s more, I intend to have you!” He reached out, and actually grasp ed her, but, In some manner, she tcjpi loose, and sprang back around the end of the table, her cheeks flushed, her eyes burning. “Don't touch me! don't dare touch me!” she panted. “You lie; Fred Wil loughby never told you that. If you come one step nearer. I’ll scream; I’ll call your men here; I’ll tell them the kind of a cur you are.” He laughed, leaning over toward her, yet hesitating, his eyes full of ad miration Her very fierceness appealed to him, urged him on. “Oh, 1 wouldn’t! Jg the first place they probably wouldn’t hear, for they are camped down in the corral. I sus pected you might be something of a tigress, and preferred to fight it out with you alone. Then, even If they did hear, there would be no inter ference —I’ve got those fellows trained too well for that. Come on, Christie; you’re helpless here.” “Am I?” “Y r es. you are.” He took a step toward her, his hands flung out. With one quick movement she sprang aside and extinguished the lamp, plunging the room into instant darkness. A few red coals glowed dully in the fireplace, but all else was dense blackness. Keith heard the movements of Hawley, as he felt his way uncertainly along the table, swearing as he failed to find the girl. Then, like a shadow, he glided through the partly open door into the room. CHAPTER XI. The Fignt in the Dark. Had the room been filled with men Keith could have restrained himself no longer. Whatever her post might be, this woman appealed to him strangely; he could not believe evil of her; he would have died If need be in her defense. But as it was, the ugly boast of Hawley gave confidence in the final outcome of this struggle In the dark, even a possibility of escape for them all. The gambler, assured of being confronted merely by a frail and not overscrupulous woman, had ventured there alone; had stationed his men beyond sound; had doubtless instructed them to ignore any noise of struggle which they might overhear within. It was these very arrange ments for evil which now afforded op portunity, and Keith crept forward, alert and ready, his teeth clenched, his hands bare for contest. Even al though he surprised his antagonist. It was going to be a fight for life; he knew “Black Bart," broad-shouldered, quick as a cat. accustomed to every form of physical exercise, desperate and tricky, using either knife or gun recklessly. Yet it was now or never for all of them, and the plainsman felt no mercy, experienced no reluctance. He reached the table, and straight ened up, silent, expectant. For au In stant there was no further sound; no evidence of movement in the room. Hawley, puzzled by the silence, was listening intently In an endeavor to thus locate the girl through some rustling, some slight motion. A knife, knocked from the table, perhaps, as she slipped softly past, fell clattering to the floor, and the gamblec leaped Instantly forward. Keith’s grip closed like iron on his groping arm, while he shot one fist out toward where the man’s head should be. The blow glanced, yet drove the fellow’ back ward, stumbling against the table, and Keith closed in, grappling for the throat. The other, startled by the unexpected attack, and scarcely real izing even yet the nature of his an tagonist, struggled blindly to escape the fingers clawing at him, and flung one hand down to the knife in his belt. Wahned by <Jie movement, the assailant drove his head into the gam bler’s chest, seeding him crashing to the floor, falling himself heavily upon the prostrate body. Hawley gave ut terance to one cry, half throttled In his throat, and then the two grappled fiercely, so interlocked together as to gjake weapons useless. Whoever the assailant might be, the gambler w r as fully aware by now that be was being crushed In the grasp of a fighting man. and exerted every wrestler’s trick, every ounce of strength, to break free. Twice he struggled to his knees, only to be crowded backward by relentless power; once he hurled Keith side ways, but the plainsman’s muscles stiffened Into steel, and he gradually regained his position. Neither dared release a grip in order to strike a blow’; neither had sufficient breath left with which to utter a sound. They were fighting for life, silently, des perately. like wild beasts, with no thought but to injure the other. The gambler’s teeth sank into Keith’s arm, and the latter In return jammed the man's head back onto the puncheon floor viciously. Perspiration streamed from their bodies, their fingers clutch ing, their limbs wrapped together, their muscles strained to the utmost. Keith had forgotten the girl, the ne gro, everything, dominated by the one When Aunt Cally Gave Up Worm Turned at Last on Ironing “Mis’ Portly’s” Voluminous Skirts. Aunt Cally belongs distinctly to the type of “born not mads” laundresses She loves her Ironing board exactly so wide and just so long. She wants plenty of blanket and sheet on it so the embroidery stands out clear and she carries her own piece of beeswax around in her apron pocket. Mayte the magic is In that piece of wax, for she has carried it always, it seems The Irons work well for her because she selects them at just the right heat and then she administers a little pat which she calls “tasein’ ’em,” applies a little wax and off they go making the'linens look as if they were polished. But Aunt Cally, like other artists, has not escaped trials. She likes to passion to conquer. He was swept by a storm of hatred, a desire to kill. In their fierce struggle the two had roll ed close to the fire place, and in the dull glow- of the dying embers, be could perceive a faint outline of the man’s face. The sight added flame to bis mad passion, yet he could do nothing except to cling to him, jab bing his fingers into the straining throat. The negro ended the affair in his own way, clawing blindly at the com batants in the darkness, and finally, determining which was the enemy, he struck the gambler with the stock of his gun, laying him out unconscious. Keith, grasping the table, hauled him self to his feet, gasping for breath, certain only that Hawley was no longer struggling. For an instant all was blank, a mist of black vapor; then a realization of their situation came back in sudden flood of remembrance. Even yet he could see nothing, but felt the motionless figure at his feet. “Quick,” he urged, the instant he could make himself speak. “The fel low is only stunned; w r e must tie and gag him. Is that you. Neb? Where is the girl?” “1 am here. Captain Keith.” and he heard the soft rustle of her dress across the room. "What is it I may do?” “A coil of rope, or some straps, with a piece of cloth; anything you can lay hands on.” She was some moments at it, con fused by the darkness, and Hawley moved slightly, his labored breathing growing plainly perceptible. Keith heard her groping toward him, and held out his hands. She started as he thus unexpectedly touched her, yet made no effort to break away. “You —you frightened me a little,” she confessed. “This has all happen ed so quickly I hardly realize yet just what has occurred.” (TO BE CONTINUED.) Wanted the Day to Himself. Nothing makes us quite so weary as these elaborate, gotten-up-ahead-of tlme jokes that some people stage and spring with such a dramatic effect. Our Washington correspondent told us of one of these, the other day. A man went Into the patent office, last week, and said he wanted a copyright. They steered him to the right depart ment, and he opened up like this: “This 'is Saturday, is it not? Thant you. I understand that you will not issue a copyright on Sunday?” “No, sir. That is the rule.” “But you will Issue a copyright on any other day of the week?” “Yes. sir.” “I’m so grad. I want to get Friday copyrighted. It’s my birthday, and I don’t want any other fellows using It How much will it cost?” She Scorned to Deceive. “And then ” said Ermyntrude, pausing. “Yes. And then?” exclaimed Gwen doline. “He asked me if I had ever been kissed before.” Gwendoline gave a gasp of compassion. “Oh, you poor darling!” she cried. “How awkward! Of course, you said —er —no?” “Dear Gwendoline,” said Ermyn trude, raising her eyes to those of her companion, “do you not know- that the truth is dearer to me than all else?” “Yes, I know-,” whispered Gwen doline, pressing her friand’s hand “What did you say?” “I said,” replied Gwendoline, ra turning the pressure, “ ‘Oh, Clarenc#, how- can you ask?’” —Answers. Actor's Proper Place. Mahlon Ivans. Jr., of Merchantvllle has a reputation as an actor and takes part In nearly all of the local show's. In the last show that was given. Shorty had one of the leading parts. After the show, while he was taking off his makeup, an elderly man made his appearance in the doorway. “Are you Mr. Ivins?” Inquired the old man. “Yes,” replied Shorty, as he motioned him to be seated. “Well.” the old man continued, “I Just want to tell you something. I’ve been watching your acting tonight. You should not be playing in this town; you should be wfith Mansfield, Booth or Irving, or Joe Jefferson.” “Why-w --why,” said Shorty, “those actors are dead.” “I know it,” said the old man. as he turned on his heel and left. -- Philadelphia Times. see her work grow and has pride in counting the number of pieces she can do in a day. The trouble is. she has washed a long time for a woman of tremendous proportions and she has become dis couraged. "I done stop washln* fun Mis' Portly!” she announced the other day "Why. how can she get along with out you? About ten years you have done her washing, isn’t it?” “Yas’m. I don’t know’m what she goin' do. But, I jes cain stan’ It no longer. Tell de truth, I jes’ lief un’ take a trip ‘round de world es to iron one o’ her skirts.’’ He who knows that secrets and vlr tues are in the ground, the waters, th* heavens, and how to come at these enchantments—ls the rich ond royaJ man.—Emerson. .mVNSIVE FARMING LAGS WITHOUT TOOLS Tha Geevi’ie Trumpet Blast of Freedom Loses Story. Contributor Revises Big Story Upon Return of Proper Farming Implements. BY FD MOTT. A snappy, black-haired, bright-eyed little woman came into The Geeville Trumpet Blast of Freedom office one day, and without any preliminary re marks said; • Do you want a piece for your pa per?” ! replied that we were always glad to get such: yes. ‘Well, then.” said she, “you jest put it in your paper that Ann Slocum, late of Fishpole Holler, is goin’ to serve notice on to Sam Slo cum of Fiohpole Holler that she is goin' to git a deevorce from him an' his bed a:.*' board, on the grounds of incompatibility o’ temper as to farm in’ implements. Put that In your pa per ' ” I coul a't help but be mystified somewhat over her statement, and I told her £O. “Well now, so I s’pose, come to think or- to it,” said the snappy little woman, “an’ mebbe I had best sort o’ explain it to you and give you the p’ints far you to leed up to the piece, like. TOu see, I am Ann M’rlar Slo cum. Ann M’riar Pepperwell as was. Me ’n Shm Slocum was married some thin' like a year ago, an' I wont to FishpoT Holler to live on Sam's clear in’, wl “re there ain’t a two-legged “When He Seen Mean’th’ Ax He Skited.” neighbor nigher than two railed. ’Less ft, mowt be them squawkin’ an’ stlueakin' spindle shanks cranes down ivlong the swamp run. But as fer four fboted neighbors, they’m plenty enough. Sassy enough, too, goodness know r s. An’ familiar enough to come an’ borry our pork an’ mutton an’ chickens without as much as askin’, if tve don’t watch out. But I don’t mind the havin’ no two-legged neighbors nonp. I hain’t much on company, any how. That’s what I kep’ tellin’ Sam Slocum when he come pesterin' of me with his, but he wouldn’t take the hint, an’ I jest up an’ married him to git red of his pesterin’. No. i hain’t much on company, anyhow r . An’ if you hain’t got no neighbors why you don’t have to keep namin' after the flatirons you lent ’em, an’ you don’t alw’ays have a cup o’ lasses or a drawin’ o’ tea, or a settin’ o’ turn pike yeast or setcli a cornin’ to you. So I don’t mind the havin’ o’ no two legged neighbors none. But here about six months ago I w'as joggin’ home from town on the buckboard, with some tradin' I’d been doin’, w r hen something turned up that rumpled me quite some, none. “1 was coinin’ along by the laurel swamp, a railed an’ a-half this side of our clearin’, when out bounced two thumpin’ big wildcats an’ made after me an’ the buckboard an’ the boss. The boss was a young critter, an’ the pesky varmints skeert him so that I couldn’t hold him in, an’ aw-ay he went, lickit'y brindle, an’ never stop ped till he, got home an’ slam into the wagor shed. An’ the wild cats follered right along after us, scream in' an' caterwaulin' like all possessed, an' nevet wunst cut fer the woods till I sprung from the buckboard when the boss had arrived with it to home. Then I guess they cut, consarn ’em! “1 was mad, I tell you, an’ to make me ruffled all the more, every whip stitch o’ my tradin’ had been joggled oaten the wagon an’ strung along the road sornew an’ amongst It was anew red dr*** I had bought to make up fer goin’ on a visit to my folks’s, over to Blarin’ .fildge. Soon as i could git into the house I did, my mind all pade up as to what I was goin’ to do, Mit there I found that Sam had gone Pff huntin’ with the rifle, an’ there wa’n’t no use o’ me follerin’ the wild cats without it, an’ so I had to let ’em go. Yes, I did. An’ me not bein’ able to mow them two varmints dow r n as good as cost us as much as losln’ a buckwheat crop. “Well, sir, it wa’n’t but three days after that, when Sam had gone off huntin’ ag’in, takin’ the rifle, that a bear came slinkin’ in to’rds our pig pen, an’ act’ly got into it, an’ was levyin’ on to a pig before I could git In the house an’ come out ag’in with *he shotgun. I peppered Mr. Bear with ;t. but, massyful Peter!. It didn’t hurt him none, an’ if I hadn’t a made fer him with the axe he’d a kep’ right on an’ tuck the pig, whether or no. But when he seen me an’ the axe cornin’ fer him he clum outen the pen an’ skited fer the woods. An’ we lost that harvest jest ’cause I didn’t have the right kind o’ farmin’ Implements. “When Sam tome home from hunt in’ I says to him, ‘See here, Sam Slo cum!’ I says. ‘lf I’m goin’ to do the farmin’ while you’m out huntin’,’ I s ays. why you’re jest got to leave me h, rifle te do with,’ T says, ‘an - you take the shotgun to do the huntin’ with!’ 1 says. But Sam ho jest laugh ed an’ said he’d smile to see hisself take the shotgun to do the huntin’ with, an’ so I shet my trap an* didn't say no more. But I thunk conslder’ble. “Yes, I thunk conslder’ble,” said she. “I guess mebbe it w’as three weeks or so after the bear come to git tha* pig of our’n that I went out o’ the back door one mornin’, an’ lo an’ behold you! there sot two all-sockin’ big wildcats in the apple tree, not ten yards from the house, an' reftdy to pounce on to anything alive that come along! An' Sam Slocum had the rifle out huntin’, so I had nothin’ to reap wildcats with 'cept. the old shotgun. I went an’ got. It, an’ It worked good enough fer me to mow down one o' the wild cats. T'other un got away. ”\N hen Sam come home I had the one wildcat skun out an’ its pelt hang in’ up, an' I says ag’in to htm that he was standin’ in his* own light by not leavin the rifle to home fer me to farm with. “ ‘Be you goin’ to leave that rifle to homo fer aggercultur’l purposes.’ 1 says, an take the shotgun fer huntin’, or beln’t you?’ I says to him. An’ Sam says to me: “ ’No. I bein't’ he says ‘But I’ll git you some buckshot,’ says he. “Now I didn’t collate to farm that clearin’ with buckshot. Twa’n’t ac cordin’ to my idees o’ tillin' the slle. But 1 didn’t say no more. I jest thunk. I thunk quite some. “If you’d been passin’ along by Sam’s clearin’ this afternoon yon more’n likely’d heard a gun go off. it was the old shotgun. 1 was weedin’ out the garden about that time, when [ heerd a snort, an' lookin’ up I seen the nicest, fattest, blackest, an’ big gest bear 1 ever did see. “That bear stood right at the edge o' the sparrow grass bed, an’ while I w r as starin' at it, two cubs, worth twenty shillin' apiece, easy, come tumblin’ through (he curnt bushes. “I grabbed the cubs an’ cut with ’em fer the barn. They squealed so that their mammy come chasin’ back, an’ ’fore I could git to the barn she had me. I dropped the cubs an’ skited fer the axe, hopin’ that I could harvest that bear crop after all, but ’fore I could git back with the axe the old bear had got her cubs together an’ made off with ’em to the woods. “An’ all because Sam Slocum was so unmerciful sot on my runnin’ that farm with nothin’ to run it with. An’ that jest capped the hull business. I put on my poky dot gingham—this un here—an’ my rough’n ready jockey hat —that un up there —an’ sloped from Fishpole Holler. An’ now you kin put the piece in your paper that Ann M’riar Slocum, late o’ Fishpole Holler, is goin’ to serve notice on to Sam Slocum, o’ Fishpole Holler, that she is goin' to git a deevorce.” With that the snappy little woman bounced out of the office. I guess it “I Grabbed the Cubs an’ Cut With ’Em fer the Barn.” might have been an hour later when she came bouncing in again. She was snappier than ever, and her eyes were twinkling. “Have you put that piece in the pa per yit?” she asked. “No,” I said. “It will be in next Thursday.” “Well, I’ll tell you,” said she. “Sam goc back home from huntin’, an’ then I guess he must a run the boss all the way from the clearin’ to here, the -way the poor critter is pantin’ an’ puffin’. I jest met Sam out here, an’ instead o’ puttin’ that piece in the paper about Ann M’riar Slocum’s deevorce, you kin put one in that Sam Slocum, o’ Fish- i pole Holler, has all of a suddent took to huntin’ with his old shotgun, havin’ took the idee that it was a heap bet ter'n his new-fangled rifle, which he'll leave to home after this. A piece somethin’ like that you mowt put in your paper Instead o’ the one about Ann MTiar’s deevorce, ’cause that in compatibility o’ temper as to farmin’ Implements has sort o’ been settled out o’ court.” U'onyrljfht, by W. G. Chapman.) Wftittemoreb ff Shoe Polishes polishing shoes of all kinds and colors. **** , !•• • >l:-0 .!•.•< In* that Positively contains Oil,. 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The Hero’s Lament. i Achilles lamented his \ ulncrable heel. “It means my wife will always make me wipe my shoes off when 1 come in (he house,” he cried. Forebodings. Webster had made his great speech in reply to Hayne. ‘Some day, 1 suppose,” he mused, “it will devolve upon Hennery Cabot Ixnlge or Winthrop Crane to sciuelcdi Hen Tillman, and I’m not so blamed sure they can do it!” SURE. She—Religion is a wonderful thing. He —Yes; but some people only look on it in the light of fire insurance. INDIGNANT AT THE INJUSTICE Scholars Would Not Stand to See Much-Loved Teacher Not Get ting Her Rights. The following incident fold of a public school teacher of cheery mui ner and marked ability, noted lor her success in leading backward or tra willing pupils along the rocky road to knowledge. In laboring with an especially try ing class she was wont to encourage the members by such confident re marks as “Of course we can do it!” “Of course we can learn this lesson as well as other people, if we try!” As examination time drew near and the little ones became more nervous, she changed her tune to “Of course we’re going to pass!” The children did pass, duly, but, natural pleasure in the un expected success having evaporated, were sulky and disagreeable almost beyond belief. It took their new teacher a long time to get at the coot of the misunderstanding, over which they whispered in corners and be cause of which they treated her like a bitter enemy. At last, however, she drew from the most pliable youngster this indignant, tearful admission: "We ain’t a-goin’ ter study no more in this darned ole school. Here, vre come up from Miss Blank’s room, an' she stays down there all alone, when she knows so much more than we do. It’s a plumb shame that they didn’t • let her pass, too!” A HIT What She Gained by Trying Again. A failure at first makes us esteem final success. A family in Minnesota that now en joys Postum would never have known how good it is if the mother had been discouraged by the failure of her first attempt to prepare it. Her son tells the story: “We had never used Postum till last spring when father brought home a package one evening just to try it. Wo had heard from our neighbors, and in fact every one who used It, how well they liked it. “Well, the next morning Mother brewed it about five minutes, just as she had been in the habit of doing with coffee without paying special at tention to the directions printed on the package. It looked weak and didn’t have a very promising color, but nevertheless father raised his oup with an air of exceptancy. It certain ly did give him a great surprise, but I’m afraid It wasn’t a very pleasant one, for he put down bis cup with a look of disgust. Mother wasn’t discouraged though, and next morning gave it another trial, letting It stand on the stove till boil ing began and then letting it boll for fifteen or twenty minutes, and this time we were all so pleased with it that we have used it ever since. ‘•Father was a confirmed dyspeptic and a cup of coffee was to him like poi son. So he never drinks It any more, but drinks Postum regularly. He isn’t troubled with dyspepsia now and is actually growing fat, and I’m sure Postum is the cause of it. All the chil dren are allowed to drink it and they are perfect pictures of health.” Name given by Postum Cos., Battle Creek, Mich. Read the little book, “The Road to Wellville,” in pkgs. “There’s a reason.” Kvf? read the above letter? Anew one appears from time to time. They are crennlne, tr”. and fall of human Interest.