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The Cokens of Donna Inez (Written for The Herald.) Carter Oliver stood in Ihe doorway, with folded arms and down-bent gaze, his strong, lithe figure, ln Its simple suit of black, rising head and shoulders above those around him. Beautiful women passed him, dancing languidly to the seductive music of Spanish waltzes. More than one pair of dark eyes sent an unspoken invita tion to the tall American, and the Senorita Dona Inez de Quesada had motioned to him twice with her fan, but he heeded nothing and did not even seem to notice that the Senora Macia's ball was a decided success. In fact, Carter Oliver's thoughts were anything but pleasant and had strayed far from the brilliantly lighted room. A tri fling Incident, occurring that morning, had brought him troublesome memories, which he found hard to banish. He had been tak ing his usual morning stroll along the water front, watching Idly the small boats ln the harbor, which were making their way toward a white cruiser, anchored some distance out from shore, and from which floated the American Hag. A group of blue uniformed sailors from the strange ship stood near him, laughing and talking. Sud denly their chatter ceased for an Instant, and Oliver, turning slightly to note the cause, had seen their hands raised in sa lute to an officer who was passing. One rapid searching glance was enough. Ho had turned away with a muttered curse and spent the remainder of the day In solitude on the hills, seeking to avoid another en counter and a prey to the gloomiest of thoughts, for in the American officer he had seen the man who had made of him a voluntary exile. During that long, hot day on the hills of Santiago de Cuba the past came back to Carter Oliver with a force, which made the occurrences ten years gone seem like yes terday. The brief period of happiness dur ing his two years of married life rose be fore him like a mirage. He suffered again ln the discovery of his wife's unfaithful ness and the subsequent scandal attending her flight with the man he had met that morning. Since then he had been a wan derer, following his calling as civil engin eer in foreign lands. The gold mines of Brazil and the mountains of Switzerland were equally familiar. He had watched the Southern Cross ln the skies of the tropics, and had tramped through the bush of Aus tralia. The beauties of India and Mexico had looked love Into his eyes, and he had seen the fandango danced in Andalusia. He had made and thrown away a fortune, end acquired some fame, of which ho was careless. None knew him well, but those who knew him best found him cynical and reserved, brave almost to a fault, and with only one thing which he held sacred—and that his word of honor. After traveling over the world, he had finally settled in Cuba, and had become a well-known figure ln every part of the Island. Some American Investments sufficed for his simple mode of living, and he had been ln Santiago nearly two years. All these things coursed through his brain like the shifting colors of a kalelde scope as he lay in the shade of a palm, smoking Innumerable cigarettes. At sun set he saw the American cruiser steam out toward the open sea, and when nothing could be seen of her but a faint line of smoke he went down into the city. In search of something to distract his mind, he remembered that he had promised to attend the Senora Macla's ball, and late ln the evening he appeared at the scene of festivities, his entrance causing quite a stir, for all the Cuban beauties were great ly interested ln hlrn. He, however, sought no one for the dance, but leaned against the wali, unconscious of the charms around him. Since the day when he had found the woman who had been his wife miserable and deserted in a small Canadian village, and watched her die, relieving her wants, It is true, but even to the last sternly re fusing her prayer for forgiveness, women had been to him but beautiful playthings, and many had suffered for the fault of one. The music ceased and waves of perfumed air floated toward him, as the slowly prom enading throng went by. He awoke from his reverie with a start, suddenly conscious of some compelling force which had brought him back from a land of dreams. As he lifted his eyes he. met the steady gaze of the Senorita Inez de Quesada. For a moment the two gazed at each other across the room, 'then, mentally shaking himself together, Oliver answered the un spoken Invitation in her eyes and sought her side. In all of the Spanish possessions, Old World or New, it would be hard to find a more beautiful woman than the Dona Inez, and if she had reached her twenty-fifth year unmarried, It was not because of a lack of suitors. To look once into her In scrutable topaz eyes was to wish to look forever. Of a race ln whoso veins flowed the haughtiest blood of Aragon and old Castile, her beauty was enhanced by her royal air, and no one had ever disputed her right to reign as queen over the social life which surrounded her. As Oliver bent over the little white hand which, after the American fashion, was ex tended to greet him. his eyes swept her from Ihe burning gold of her small, proud head to her tiny arched feet and then rested on tier face, as If satisfied with their scrutiny, while he wondered idly at the faint rose flush which had flickered over her Ivory skin. "The Senor Oliver pays but a poor tribute to the beauties of Cuba this evening," she said mockingly. "The Senorita Dona Inez de Quesada knows that none can be blind to her charms," he replied in his courteous yet half negligent way. They chatted a few moments of the up risings which were then shaking the island, she speaking scornfully of the Insurgents' power, and he picking his words carefully as he answered, for although his sympathies were inclined to be with tho rebels, he had many friends on either side, and from a feeling of loyalty to his own land Oliver wished to be considered neutral as long us possible In the troubles which threatened lo end ln war. He therefore greeted the music which rang out again as a welcome diversion, and offered his hand to his com janion to lead her out on the floor, but she flrew back. "No," she said, and glanced iround her. "I must speak to you, and Hone. Come!" He walked by her side down the room md followed her, as heedless of comment md curious glances, she stepped through me of the big open windows on the veranda. Here she turned and faced him. "Senor," ihe said, "will you do me a service?" . "Is it necessary to ask?" he answered. "You will—that ls good," she continued. •Then listen. You have heard of Diego de Suyas?" "Yes; who has not?" Who has not Indeed! Dlego de Cuyas j{ Story of Cuban Life was the most troublesome of rebels, pos sessed of wonderfully persuasive powers of speech, the idol of the country people and who every day made new recruits to the rebel cause. His home was known to be somewhere In the mountains, but although many attempts had been made by the gov ernment to capture him, they had so far proved futile. At Dona Inez' mention of him Oliver started, but she held up her hand impatiently. "Wait," she said. "I will tell you. Last winter I visited my cousin, Benita Sepul veda. It is dull in the country, as you konw, and Benita is but a child. I rode much, al ways alone. One day I met a caballero in the road. He was handsome. I wearied. After that we rode together, I letting him think me the daughter of a ranchero, he saying that he was a gentleman of Mexico For the only time in my life, I stooped to folly and gave him an opal ring and a por trait of myself painted on ivory. Why not? lie amused me. When I left I thought that would be the end. But behold! he. is the rebel de Cuyas, and twice I have received letters from him saying that he is mad with love of me, and if I do n,ot marry him he will come to the town and carry me off, if 1 were the daughter of God himself, show ing the ring and picture to all in proof that he has the right." "But has he?" questioned Oliver sternly. She raised her head proudly. "Who says so, lies," she answered. "As I said, it wa3 a folly. Without the tokens he would appear a madman; with them he is most dangerous. All would listen, some believe. He is a rebel, I am loyal. My God! can you not see! You can save me. There is a price on his head." "I do not kill for money," he said, ab ruptly turning away, but she placed her hand on his arm. "But for me?" she whispered. "Bring me only the tokens; I care not how you get them, and ask of me what you will." She stood close to him, the moonlight drifting over her pearl sewn satin gown and glancing on her white shoulders. Oliver's bad angel had been in the ascendant all day and his mood was evil and bitter. He looked, her full in the eyes and laughed recklessly. "What I will?" he questioned. "Yes, I will save you, but I trust no woman. Beware you do not fool me. Ten days from now you shall have what you wish." He turned and left her standing there alone, a triumphant smile curling her lips, as she heard his footseps echo down the moonlit street. All night Carter Oliver did, no', draw rein and the rising sun found him at the hacienda of his friend, Senor Gonzales, where, giving short answers to the few questions put to him, he left his tired horse and took a fresh one. All day he rode through wild savannas, covered with luxuriant vegetation, the hot sun of the tropics beating fiercely down upon him. At sunset he turned inland toward the mountains, looking sharply to right and left, as the ascent grew steeper and the canyons deeper, for somewhere among the hills Cuyas was supposed to be hidden. Oliver had formed no plans as to what he was to do when he met the man he was seeking. All he knew was. that his word had been passed and must be redeemed at any cost. He determined that he would not kill him save at the last extremity. He cared nothing for the promises of the gov ernment, but he had to save the Senorita de Qucsada's honor, and it must be done. A large dog, running out at him barking, moused him sharply, and he drew rein, see ing dimly through the trees, for twilight had fallen, a small adobe house. He could stop there for the night, he thought, and by some cautious Inquiries might, perhaps, learn something to his advantage. So, turning in at the clearing,, he knocked at the barred door. It was opened by a girl, who. in answer to his request for a night's lodging, half doubt fully bade him enter. As he stepped over the threshhold, bending his head for the door was low, he saw lying on the floor an open book which bore on the flyleaf! the name "Diego Manuel de Cuyas." Controlling a start of surprise, he sat down to wait while his supper was being prepared. That he was in the house of the man he sought he did not doubt, and a carefully worded conversation with the girl, whom he discovered to be Cuyas' sister, proved that his surmise was' correct. He 'determined, therefore, to remain, as long as possible in the place, sure that by watching closely he could obtain an interview with Cuyas him self, who could not be far off. But an unlooked for obstacle rose to con front him. He soon' learned that Camlla. although the most ardent of patriots, was unaware of her brother's movements. As soon as she knew that' her guest was an American she answered all he asked with out reserve, but she could tell him little. Still he lingered, he scarcely knew why. The soft beauty and chlldlikeness of Camila acted like a balm to his tired nerves. Unlike the Dona Inez, she was small and delicately formed, reaching' hardly to his shoulder. Her dark eyes seemed* always looking for love, and her red mouth had a pathetic droop. It seemed as iT a harsh word must crush her, yet she was brave, since for the greater part of the time she was alone, save for the company of tin old servant. It was easy for Oliver to see that poverty was not a stranger to this house, for all, even the/ food, was of the simplest, but everything, with tha usual Spanish hos pitality, was placed at his service while he chose to remain. Her father, Camila told him, had been a Spanish officer, who had loved Cuba "too well," and that was all she ever said. Her brother was her Idol, and as she grew more confidential, she told Oliver that he trusted her to such an extent that lv* had given into her care the ring of his sweetheart, bidding her guard it with her life. She added wistfully that she had never seen the woman' whom her brother loved, but hoped that he might be happy. Oliver could scarcely repress a sardonic smile at the thought of the Dona Inez and Cuyas wedded and happy, but it faded soon enough as Camila offered to show him the Jewel, and drew from her bosom Inez's ring. Here was half of what he sought. He had only to reach out hs hand and take It. but, al though It hung' on a siight ribbon around a girl's neck. It was guarded from him more surely than if surrounded by the whole army of Cuba. They were outside In the moonlight. Camila. sitting on the low step, had been playing her guitar, and as she replaced the ring she took up the Instrument again, touching it lightly. Oliver felt a sudden distate for his mis sion, and all at once realized what it would mean to the girl before him. He turned to her sharply. "I must leave tomorrow," he said. Her Angers tightened on the strings with a discordant crash, and she glanced up, startled. Oliver saw ln her eyes the same look which he had seen ln those of other LOS ANGELES HERALD: SUNDAY MORNING, JULY 10, 1898 women. It filled him with a vague trouble. He had not been over-scrupulous ln his affairs of the heart, believing, as he did, that all women were naturally fickle and deceit ful, but this one was different. Obeying a strange impulse, he stepped forward. "Camlla," he said, and held out his arms. She rose, half hesitatingly, but the next moment he was kissing her passionate ly; then she freed herself and ran into the house. , It was with mingled emotions that Oliver paced up and down the small cleared space in front of the house after Camlla left him. He had but a short twenty-four hours to reach Santiago and redeem his pledge, and he had not even seen Cuyas, who had the most important thing, the picture, In his pos session. There was but one way. He' must take the jewel and leave Immediately. It would seem like robbery, ar.d he ground his teeth as he thought of ifVbitterly curs ing himself for the promise, he had made and which must be kept. Tossing his cigarette aside, he entered the house, braced for the task before him. He knew Camila's room, and It was an easy thing to open, the unbarred door, yet great drops of sweat stood on his forehead as ne accomplished It. The moonlight streaming across the nar row bed showed him the girl as she lay asleep, one arm bent under her head and her dark hair tumbled over the pillow. With trembling fingers he untied the ribbon on her neck ar.d drew* the ring gently off. The touch of her cool, soft skin against his hand went through him like a shock. She moved slightly and murmured something ln her sleep. It was his naae. With a stifled groan he hastily turnco and left the room. Reaching the open air, he leaned against the side of the house, dizzy and exhausted. But his work was not yet done, and he forceu himself to go to the stable and saddle his horse, breathing more freely as he rode out of the enclosure. He had ridden but a short distance, pick ing his way carefully over thei miserable road, when a man stepped ou\ from, the underbrush and stood directly In his path. The moon made it almost as light as day, and Oliver.easily recognized Cuyas. Throw ing himself from his horse, he went up tv him, but the other held up his hand. "So, senor," he said, in slow, drawling Spanish, "you go from my house like al thief in the night. What do you take with you?" "Nothing," answered Oliver, "but the ring of the Senorita Dona Inez de Quesada, which I have promised to deliver to her tomorrow night, with the picture which you wear over your heart." Cuyas' face gleamed white and angry, and he sprang forward with a threatening ges ture. Oliver caught; his wrists and held them in his powerful grasp. "Listen," he said in Spanish, "I was in vited by the lady whom you love to kill you, but I shall not. I have promised a certain thing and I shall do it. Yield peaceably, for yield you must, and she is not worth a strug gle. Come, will you give me the picture?" "Mother of God! Never!" said the other, fighting desperately to free himself. "Then I must take it," answeredlOllver, and holding Cuyas' hands firmly in one of his own, he tore open his shirt, with the other and felt for the picture. It was sus pended by a cord around his neck, and Oliver easily detached It. Then taking Cuyas' knife and pistol from him he tossed them into the bushes. "I sannott afford to let you kill me," he said, grimly, "but you shall have that satisfaction before long, as I will return." Neither man had heard a slight rustling among the trees, but as Oliver released his hold or. his prisoner a file of soldiers stepped into the narrow path and seized Cuyas' arm. They wore the aniform of Spain. Oliver grasped the situation ? \ a glance and turned to defend the man he had beer/struggling with, but the soldiers had surrounded him and bound his arms. The officer stepped forward and raised his hat courteously to Oliver, who immediately recognized his face. "Allow me. to thank you, Senor Oliver," he said, "but I cannot understand why you let him go." "I had no quarrel with the man," returned the American; "merely a question of busi ness. But If you consider him my rfrlsoner let him go." "Impossible," said the other, "we have been on his track for days and should not have him now had you not detained him with your 'business.' Tomorrow there will be one rebel less." The words were uttered brutally within plain hearing of CTuyas, but r.ot a muscle of his face stirred. He motioned Oliver to come nearer, and the American obeyed. "Do not blame yourself," the young man said generously. "But for the woman I should have lived for Cuba. Now I can only die. Tell her-1 was'mad to threaten. I never really meant to harm her. But, God! Why did she make me love her?" He shiv ered slightly and turned his face away; then after a moment's silence spoke in a broken voice. "My sister," he said. "What shall I do?" Oliver grasped his fettered hands. "Her happiness shall be my charge," he replied. "I swear it." Cuyas had no chance to reply, for the Spanish soldiers, Impatient of delay, closed around him, forcing Oliver asifle. The American knew that nothing could.Save him and he turned away, jumping on his horse. He had not ridden far when a single rille shot ringing in his ears told him only too plainly that Spanish hate had not waited until the morrow, and there was one patriot less in Cuba. It was noon when Oliver reached the hacienda of Senor Gonzales, and changing his horse, rode on again. Those who saw him wondered at the set look on his face, but there were none who dared to question. As he galloped on he dared not think. The face of Inez rose before him ln all its allur ing beauty, as he had seen it last, half mocking, half loving. The strange light that had gleamed for a moment in the treacherous eyes clung to him, drawing him on against his will. Then a vision of Camlla, desolate, alone, looking for the brother who would never come, cursing the man she had trusted, made him shudder and set his teeth. It was evening when, wet to the skin with the water of the marshes, he saw the spire of the cathedral gleaming like gold, and a little later he rode up the hilly street of Santiago. The long, hot day was gasping its last breath out under a naming yellow sky, and most of the people were gathered in the plaza. Covered as he was with dirt, Oliver made his way through the curious throng straight to the house of General de Quesa da. Those who saw him enter, saw him come out again almost directly and, mount ing a fresh horse which a servant brought, ride away in the direction from which he had come. The Senorita Inez de Quesada, sitting be hind the closed lattice ot her window, had seen Oliver ride up to the door within an hour of the time when he had promised lo return. Her heart beat with a feeling which surprised her, and she sat with hands clasped ln an agony of expectation, waiting to hear his name announced and promising to receive him with a warmth which would amply reward his trouble. She hastened to the door ln answer to the servant's knock, but it was only to receive a package which she opened with trembling Angers. Then letting the ring and picture which were enclosed fall unheeded to the Aoor she read the words written hastily on I the slip of paper, and sank back In her chair with staring eyes and blanched lips. "I have saved your honor at the price of my own," the note ran. "Take what I have brought and guard them carefully. They cost a man's life better than my own and a woman's heart. For this I shall ask no payment." Cuyas had been revenged, but the one man whom Inez had ever loved had scorned her and was riding farther from her every moment. After leaving the house of General de Quesada Oliver had but one thought, and that to reach Camlla as soon as possible. He did not ask whether he loved her or not. He hardly knew. It had been so long since any soft feelings had entered his heart that he felt it hardly possible that he could love. One thing, however, never left his mind. Hits promise to the man for whose death he considered himself guilty had! become the moving power of his life. For that all else must be put aside; for that he must live; for that he must work; for that, if necessary, he must die. He rode fast and furiously, careless of the uncertain roads,heedless of the burning heat, which threatened even his Iron frame, Inured to every climate. He did not even notice it when the thorny branch of a gigantic palm tree struck his head and inflicted a jagged wound, though he mechanically wiped the blood out of his eyes. At noon he came In sight of the little house, and throwing himself from his horse hs hastened forward. Camlla stood in the door, shading her eyes with her hand. At his ap proach she gave a little cry, then stood quite still, regarding him mournfully. The shadows under her eyes told a sad story of sleepless and anxious hours. Falling to his knees from utter weariness, Oliver took her hands. For a moment his Hps refused to obey him, but he forced fhem to speak, and told her the whole story, omit ting nothing, sparing himself no detail. He felt the little hands in his trembfe and grow cold, and as he finished they were slowly withdrawn. He dared not look up, he who had never known fear, was afraid to see her face. A sense of guilt weighed him down, and H struck hlnil with a sudden pain what it was to be placed without the pale of love, yet how impossible to hope. The blood of her brother was morally on his hands, and even could she forgive the wrong to herself the dead must ever stand between them. "Camila, Camiia!" he said mournfully; "my little one, my sweetheart. It is like death to lose you. Tell me, querida, how •can I serve you? How cam I make you happy? Oh, why did I not meet you sooner?" She did not answer, but he felt her arms around his neck, and she drew him closer until his head rested on her bosom. Sur prised, doubting his senses, afraid to hope, he looked up and saw her eyes. Them he knew that no gulf could be too wide for woman's, love to cross. BEI.LIDO. Los Angeles, July, 1898. Gay and Gaudy Parasols Umbrellas and parasols are getting in their inning nowadays. If a woman would be strictly up-to-date she must carry a very gay and festive looking sun umbrella, and her parasol must be all fluff and frills. Curious shades of gray, blue, red and green prevail in the umbrellas, and those made of conspicuous plaids and stripes are also much used. One of dark blue lined with green is said to resist the sun's rays and to prove more restful tit the wearer's eyes than any other, but the colors are not becoming to most women. The man who chances to read this needn't smile; woman tries on her umbrellas and parasols be fore a big glass just as she does her hats, and buys according to becomlngness. Near ly all the colored parasols and umbrellas have white ribs this year, and handles are lighter and prettier than ever before.| Conventional Length The good little girl's not long for this world— And how long Is that? Well, to guess, She mustn't ever be longer, at most, By more than two feet than her dress. —Detroit Journal. THE VICTIM OF CAREFULNESS The time when a man feels an impulse to scold, And almost an Impulse to swear, Is when he Inquires for a thing and Is told: "I put.lt away somewhere." S'omc where! Somewhere!! The thing that he's yearning for more than for gold' Is safe and secure—somewhere! It may be his pen or his pipe or his book; "I saw It but yesterday." Says the wife of his soul, with the kindliest lock, "And—somewhere—l put It' away, Secure. I'm sure You'll/ find it somewhere hereabouts, for I took Such trouble to put it away." So the man sets about in a maddening search. Now hopeful, now filled with despair, Anal he ransacks each cranny and drawer and perch In quest of that hazy "somewhere." Somewhere! Somewhere!! And he thinks in a way that's taboed by the church, As he gropes for that hidden "some where." O women who love us, we beg and beseech You check that devotion and care Which place- ail our chattels so far out of reach In a safe but forgotten "somi where." We tear Our hair, And glowing and eloquent figures of speech Are born of that hunt for "somewhere." We know you desire to promote, not to mar. The joys o£ our brief earthly stay, But please leave our pouches and pipes where they are, And don't, oh! don't—put them away! Away To stay In a nook that's so near, yet so bnffltr.gly far, That the search makes us wrinkled and gray. —Chicago Record. Tape Worm Removed Entire Without pain and inconvenience, in a a few hours jmm Or NO CHARGE TOTAL COST, 15.00, IF SUCCESSFUL Call on, or write to . . . DR. J. T. RINEHART 212 & Spring St, Let Angeles, Cat A BRILLIANT ACHIEVEMENT Crowning Triumph of a Notable Career—The Foo and Wing Herb Company Again « Victor—Successful In a Long Contest With Disease—The Herbal System Again Shown to Be Rational, Scientific and Potent In Results—Co-Working With Na ture Its Secret of Success—lt Cures Because It Helps—A Case That Abso lutely Proves Its Merits—Appreciative Letter From Grateful Parents AN APPEAL TO AMERICA'S LOVE OF JUSTICE AND FAIR PLAY Tho human mind is tha most perverse thing in the universe. Everything else 19 governed by invariable laws, but the freedom of action permitted thought also permits mankind to deviate, to a certain extent, from the natural laws provided for Its benefit. Man may do as he chooses ln many things, and he often abuses this liberty by choosing to act against his own best Interests. This Is emphatically true of everything relating to the laws of health. We do what seems agreeable, regardless of the consequences. When baleful results of our course of action compel ua to reform and to seek relief in medical treatment, we still get as far away aa we can from the simple processes of nature. Our methods of medical practice are artificial. They do not conform to the processes of nature as seen In the growth of all forms of life, vegetable and animal. These are replaced by the devices of human In genuity, which appear to be reasonable, but are unsuccessful because they are not in harmony with nature. Modern surgery Is an especially conspicuous ex ample of great skill and the hlehest technical knowledge misdirected and mis used. It is a glittering fraud, because its methods, which compel admiration by their brilliancy, are nevertheless destruc tive of health and do not accomplish cures. ONLY ONE METHOD OF CURE. In a broad and general sense there Is only ono method of curing disease and that Is nature's method of growth and change from within the body.The method of growth Is also tho method of cure. A diseased portion can be replaced by a portion that Is sound by the same pro cess of growth which originally created it—provided that it can be fed. This Is Just as true of the tissues of the brain or of the bone as it is of the skin or the llesh. The whole secret ot success In the treatment of any disease Is In furnish ing the body with the proper food through the stomach and the blood. This may be assisted In many cases by out ward applications to heal those tissues that have become Inflamed and to remove those that havo been destroyed by ...o progress of the disease. In these cases success comes from a skillful use of both Internal remedies and external applica tions. NO BRICKS WITHOUT STRAW. The skill of tho best workman Is un availing If he has no tools and no ma terial to work with. Yet the modern physician, who is supposed to be a work man of the highest skill, selects the poorest tools and the worst material within his reach and attempts to bring annul tin, ...rjt importn.it re-,.s* ija||Miij Jng upon the most Intricate processes. This is a most curious and astounding exKrition of Illogical rea,->m>.g, yrt It t». seen every day In every civilised com munity. Apart from accident and ex ternal causes disease usua'ly results from the ptesenoe of some poisonous sub stance In the creating Inflamma tion, from pressure upon or other ar rangement of the nerve centers, from failure of a vital function, or from lack Of nutrition. To remove or remedy tlic Se conditions the average physician aoes dl ri.ctly away from nature s methods and selects poisons which be administers in the place of foods. Whsn he desires Im mediate results he injecu these directly iruo the blood, employing a degree of haste nnd force which is In Itself con -r,? mUur and Productive of great ?, U . rp ' 2? h ? n he attempts to feed a pa r,tL«» ls starvln « ln the midst of P'snty, because he cannot properly ae ?™B*> h '? food, the modern doctor ?h? *255 t ne b , uß,neßs administering "J, st ani l most concentrated foods h i s reac . h c forgetting that all pro f sWOWth and healing are neces sarily slow and cannot be hurried. THE FOUNDERS OF A BETTOR S"S TEM. r„7i™ °j ne n , atlon that has consistently followed a better system than this for hundreds of years ls one that ls 'Ittle known and often mlaunders'ood. Yet It ons given to the world many Inventions of incalculable value. It originated the art of printing, which Is the foundation ot nil modern civilization. It Invented Kunpowder. upon the use of which are 2fft. the elgnntlc and complex re sults of modern warfare. In the fine arts it has produced the finest papers the most delicate tapestries, the most' cun ning products of metallurgy, the most beautiful results of the potters skill in all these linos it preserves secrets that are, centuries old. yet they nccompTTsn" re sults that cannot be Improved upon. 1 hey embody the whole sum and sub stance of human knowledge upon these subjects. The same fact Is trn> of theli medical system. It is not to be despised becnuse of Its antiquity. On the e-m --trary, Its consistent use by a great and constantly-growing hatlon. for hundreds ot .vara, proves its superiority over our own. which Is constantly changing but never improving. THE CHINESE HERBAL SYSTEM A SUCCESS. The Chinese herbal system of medical treatment is a success. Facts spenk louder than words; results are better proof than theories. Experience must and will finally overcome prejudice. Fvery patron of this system is a llvin* advocate of its merits. The number of these ls constantly growing. They quietly recommend this system to their friends, and every day some timid and unbelieving Invalid gathers courage to test the system In his owh case. Tne re sults In scores of cases surpass the highest expectations of those who enter upon the treatment. Every now and then | some cure is accomplished that ls especially hrilllant and astonishes even i those who are familiar with what this i system of medicine can do. It cures be- I cause Its methods are based upon the I methods of nature—the real healer In every case—and have been perfected by centuries of experience. BETTER CURE THAN CUT. j By a modest estimate, the herbal treat ment would cure ot) per cent of tho cases that find iheir wav to the sur- I geon's operating table. And it ls to this phase of the subieet that we desire to call retention iv this article. It is cer tainly one of the most Important open to public discussion, for no one can tell when accident or disease may render It of special importance to himself or to sotne member of his family. To be fore- j warned ls to be forearmed, and some of the people who glance at this article to- ! day may be glad to remember it a year i from now. This has been our experience In the past, for facts and illustratiejus of cases that were put before the public long ago nre still hearing fruit and do- j Ing good by Informing the afflicted where ■ relief may be obtained. Most people are careless of their health, but some have the good sense, after they have lost It, to 1 seek for the best means of regaining It. We have had the pleasure of assisting many of these and hope to assist many mere. THE ORDINARY ROUTINE. The average practitioner of the day dislikes cases that may call for surgical interference. He knows that he cannot cure these with the remedies and the 1 skill ot his command. So he refers them to the specialist, n physician who Is sup posed to have made n special study of a number of diseases and to have unusual resources at his command for curing ■ these, because he limits his practice to a few. But the specialist, although he may know more In his line than the general 1 practitioner who idstrlbutes his energies over a wider field, has only the same remedies at his command. He may use 1 these more Intelligently In certain cases' but uls resources are nevertheless lim ited, we will aamlt that he sometimes cures, but when he falls, as he often does there Is then only one other thing to be done. That portion of the body which is : diseased and cannot be healed must be cut away. This is the surgeon's oppor- I tunlty. An operation ls performed and the patient is maimed, to a greater or less ! extent. He Is not cured, but he Is usu- I slly thankful for escaping with his life Often his health is wrecked and he be comes a confirmed invalid as a remote j consequence of the operation, but he I usually beHevas this to have been ttn-' avoidable and so drifts along thinking 1 that he has fared as well as he could have expected. THIS IS A MISTAKE. There are hundreds of cases where all this misery and suffering and resulting sloßness Is unnecessary. In these cases the operations could have been avoided and the patients could have bsen restored to health without suffering or danger of any kind. There are scores of men and women ln Southern California today who are congratulating themselves that they escaped the direful results of surgical operations through the Oriental System of Herbal Medication. This is especially "■" c of many women, for ln the field of tne diseases of women tbe specialist and the surgeon nnd their golden opportuni ties. Many of the cures that we hs«e HJf™ s*e unknown to the general public, aitnoueh we know that those ..who have ?™".fured are very grateful fo us. A rew have been so remarkable, so abao u.i,J unprecedented, that we have felt iV, 1,11. Placing the details before the ?e .% T , nese have aroused a great deal e,,^f„S ntfon , tmd hava excited much dis- E n , which •»«• done good because «wVn k wh o needed the benellts of our JSLrtSS heara o' It- One of the most us in i&l H u . m Phrey, who was cured by "ViLii™ Aft t r two >' ears of incessant on7r,f d tnree unsuccessful surgical operations, we took tier at the last mn iiW lead ">* X£ons™ her lea wi2 s „ dec '» red that amputation of life cured her „ B n V y ln °«>«- to save her L„i °r rea her and restored her to as ever k t n o w C n n wV, O H n 1 f health ■> *• hS V W l hout lameness or any that of R«ht t °n eT > re ma>-kable case was who suffered °* San Bernardino, ness re«n?.MW three years w 'tb lame te/ whicS*i r, I . trlfllnß lajury to his and Wem from bad ? n P ro P er " Seated OUR CROWNING ACHIEVEMENT case^Ultt ..a ,i. *!!*',!? In our system of medicine and Its results. The letter Is asfXwsl ™« -° a S Remadlno, Cal., May *l mm TO WHOM IT MAY CONCERN- ' :£ f7*' ltud « »o Dr. Tom Foo Yuen we of his J h ™ 0 i 10 ,V n * caße «« «» examJK ne l a n rlv U eiah t t vf»°' ° U ,'' >"°un<;est son, then' i.).™/ ,'j h the bone In his left leg was '"J"™ l - midway between the knee and . t nl™ p , I he lc * became yew much Inflamed, and the cords began to contract causing much pain. We had two? physC fie?, 8 hIT 2 an DießU - buf . m spite of »5 "hi-** eff ° r V?' the case developed in- . to hip disease," and, nt i-e -nrl of Aye months, we took the child <o Ban Fran! Cisco with the Intention of swing him ?he best medical treatment money coZ set , p p^sffis -va 1 3 bUt S ™" 'J"? 66 whom , we consulted pro nounced the case "hip disease" In an ag- SfniVn d ,w m / and , a " wcro un ' t<s 'l m t'»e : opinion that It would be necessary to cut the leg open and remove the diseased bone n order to make n cure possible. Even by this course we could hope for nothing better than a partial cure, which would leave the child crippled and possibly an nvald. It Is hardly necessary to state in view of this fact, we were very reluc" tant to trust our boy to an experiment wherein the element of danger was so pronounced and the benefit so uncertain We decided not to submit to it until every other resource had failed, nnd the Issue l had become one of life and death. | In Oakland we finally found a physician ! and surgeon of renown who was wllllns to undertake the case on different lines but was also skeptical ln regard to the ! results, and thought that; ln the end an 1 operation might be necessary in order i to save the boy's life. His theory was to keep inflammation out of the hip loint to absorb the pus, and to build up the bone, leaving time and nature to do the rest. It appeared to us the most reason able and humane of any plan submitted 2" ZU, ! r savcral days' consideration, we decided to give It a trial. We accordingly put the case in this doctor's hands The boy was put to bed and a weight was at tached to his foot. This was InSreVsed from time to time until it reached eight Pounds, and for nine months this weight was never removed. "* ' In the first two weeks the doctor ex hausted every means known to the pro. ', n hla efforts t0 absorb the pus ' t"?^ 015 ,h , e , abbesses then forming, but l!™* 0 "' avail. It finally became neces. J.*iL t «i a » neß ', ha ,eK Erectly over the In. i#ffS £","' , and w ' tnln a few d a>s there, after It broke close to the point where It had been lanced. From these two ab scesses pieces of bone wore discharged, yafyln* In size from a plnhesd to half an i™..° n f knitting needle. This discharge continued for several months. Then one of the abscesses began to henl nnd tho other to discharge less bone and pus so that, at the end of ten months, the doctor assured us that there was no further dan ger and that, by using a brace, our boy could be up and arounfl at once. He also assured us that the remaining abscess would soon heal, and expressed his opin ion that, within one or two years at the most, nature would restore our son to his normal condition. After securing the brace we returned to our home in San Diego, nnd, for a short time, the child's condition seemed to be Improved. But the abscesses never entirely healed, and it soon bcame apparent that our time and money had been thrown away. The child's general health began to decline for the first time. New abscesses made their appearance until there were seven extend ing from the shin to the point of the hip. with one, the most troublesome of all. lo cated in the groin. It became necessary to employ a physician again, and we se cured The services of one of our former doctors from Son Dlego. in whose skill we had the utmost confidence. He suc ceeded In keeping his, patient out of bed and around on crutches for some time over two years. We then moved to San Bernardino and placed our son under the care of one of the lending physicians of that city. To do him simple lust Ice we will here state that he proved the most satisfactory of any employed on the ease up to that time. He succeeded In heal ing the abscesses, one after another and the boy's health improved until he was able to discard his crutches and attend school the most of the time for rive or six months. Then came a decided change Three of the most troublesome abscesses broke and could never be brought under control again. The case went from bad fo worse until the doctor said that his pa tient could not live three months at the rate he was then tailing. He expressed it as his firm conviction ' that nothing short of opening the hip and removing the diseased bone woidd prolong the boy's life. At the same time the doctor can didly ffdmltted that the chances were but one In a hundred for the boy's surviving the operation. We had every reason to believe in the correctness of this diagnosis for it not only agreed with the opinion ex pressed by every medical expert whom we had consulted but also with the ex- Iperlebce we had gained ln watching the case. For the time being this verdict left/ us without hope. We decided, however, that no operation should be performed, let tho Anal oonse-l quences be what they might. While In] Oakland we had heard of many remarsw able cures performed by that oeletaratadl: Chinese physician, Dr. LI Po Tal, but, DM many others, we could not briny ourselvew to believe that Chinese medicine or ChH nese physicians could be superior to thooe of our own race. For that reason we failed to consult Dr. LI Po Tal. anal wm probably would never have recalled hlsnJ to mind had It not bean for the cose of Clara Humphrey, which was brought M forcibly before the public In the Los An geles Times. The reading of her easel turned our thoughts m a new direction and caused us to look for relief In a new, quarter. Upon Inquiry we learned that Dr. LI Po Tal was dead. Also that Did Tom Foo Yuen, who cured Clara Hum-' phrey. Is LI Po Tal's nephew, had bean bis assistant for a number of years In San Francisco, was now located ln South* crn California and was meeting with the) same success that his uncle had In San 1 Francisco. As a last resort we decided to consult Dr. Foo about our bay. We ao» cordingly went to Redlands to see him. On examination the doctor said that ha could cure the child, that no operation woidd be necessary, but that a cure would} require a long time. In order to make a> permanent and lasting cure the blood} would have to be changed "from the mat ron' of the bone to the surface of the) skin," and new bone grown to replace th* old. All of this, he smilingly assured us,, he could do. We were very incredulous about tha* possibility of this, but, as the demands oft the case had become urgent and there, was no other relief ln sight, we decided' at once to avail ourselves of Dr. Foo'a services and we accordingly placed oui| son under his treatment, an act for Which we dally congratulate ourselves. In thftr Instance Dr. Foo has not only proved, himself worthy of the trust and of oar entire confidence but has given ample) demonstration that his skill is superior to\ that of all the other doctors employed up-< on or consulted ln this case. For, within two weeks from beginning treatment, our) boy began to improve rapidly. He soon resumed his studies with as few Internals-, sions as the average pupil. Today he la in perfect health, both physical and men-) tal, and is able to Indulge freely In any* kind of out-door labor or exercise without! fatigue or injury. We regard his aura as, permanent for It Is oertalnly complete lftj point of health. We positively affirm: that ln no stage of the treatment was at knife used, bone removed or blood taken.] Nothing but teas, powders, plasters and; Hnaments were employed throughout that whole course. In reviewing this case we can see wherei many mistakes were made, causing man*) regrets. But the greatest mistake, an*, the one that we most sincerely regret,) was our failure to Investigate the worth: of Chinese medicine through our praju dlce against the Chinese race. This led : us to overlook the opportunity of consult-! Ing so eminent a physician as Dr. LI Po. Tal at a time when a cure would have, been comparatively easy and the treat-' ment would have produced the heat re-; suits. Dr. Foo, who Is the equal of his, distinguished uncle and the peer of any, physician living, assures us that. If be-' could havo treated this case in its early? stages, he would have had no difficulty, whatever ln effecting a cure that would' have been both permanent and complete,! entirely free from the lameness whloh, still remains and which will take years to), remove. The case, when brought to Dr.- Foo's notice, was of five years' standing,; and had gone through many experiments.; A restoration to absolutely normal con-i ditlons was therefore a physical Impoa-f slbllity for the time being and possibly: forever. ... 1 In this simple statement of facte noj names and but few dates have beeitglven.! for we do not wish to work anyone an; Injury or to wound anybody's feelings, l unnecessarily. To the curious we have, nothing more to offer. But to the ekeptlo in affliction we will furnish, upon appll-' cation, tlie name of any physician con suited or employed upon this case, to-'' gether with any other details desired. Iti now only remains for us to add that wer trust any who may And themselves slml-j larly situated may profit by our expert-, ence and may refuse to allow -their In-' herlted prejudices to stand between their Inclinations and a prospective benefit. The; mind of the average American is broad enough to recognize merit wherearor merit exists, and shoidd be Independent epjsngb] to encourage and support merit UT what' over form It Is found, irrespective of raeal color or religion. '' " (Signed) T. G. KBLTY, MRS. T. G. KBLTY. FACTS VERSUS THEORIES. I We have little to add to the above state ment of what will long be known as a, brilliant handling of a remarkable case. Tho words of Mr. iund Mrs. Kelty are so tuSh , y v, et u° convlncln s. so manifestly within the bounds of truth and modera tion, that there ls little or nothing mora to say. Anyone can understand the re i f tO ,A h «S e Parents after tha long strug gle with disease In finding their child re stored to health ln this to thTm most unl expected way. Hundreds of people ?„' San Bernardino are conversant with tha facts of this case. They all know thi! it is absolutely genuine? that ig, eu?e is perniunem and that the child was cued from the very Jaws of death ThM Is one of the cases which overthrow• aIT the theories of cure commonly accented by the American people, and proves thaS ; a return to the simple and rational meth ods of nature, as shown in the herbal treatment, would be of Inestimable h.n. : fit to the world at large. Theories.ar"*»H right in their place, but facts a" better', ! and the facts of this cure are now estai : lished boyond dispute. estac NOT THE ONLY CASE. | This case, however, Is not the mil. ln which a notable cure has beei LSSJ against odds Such cases are In our practice every day Tha hl-iSff treatment is beneficial In all fo™ ofdta! ease. It is usless to attemot to ' 1* them here, but we have abacus! slon ot many ailments an 3 statements of some notable cures ln our "Soleinel It Oriental Medicine," recently niihuJhSi f handsome Illustrated book oT^l^.* n^L 8 ? 11 ",? 6 sla<35 la< 3 ,0 furnls * copleioftw. book to all who desire further upon this subject. We have alscTothe? literature which we send free. expWnm. nur methods. Our office, at 4 T..S Olive In this city, is always ope?T for ?»• benefit of patients and InqmrerS. W? give, free of charge, diagnosis by th! pulse and opinion in any case. Courteous attendants are at hand to explain alt questions of interest. We respectfully re quest a call from any person who Is wllN ing to make a personal investigation Of our methrids r-nd cur successes. Sclavs are inexcusable when health Is at stake.' THE POO AND WING HERB COS* pan V.m» s. olive sl. j»s >isfswT 17