Ottumwa tri-weekly courier. [volume], December 07, 1907, Image 4

About Ottumwa tri-weekly courier. [volume] (Ottumwa, Iowa) 1903-1916

Image provided by: State Historical Society of Iowa

                
SATURDAY, December 7, 1907.
THE IRON LORD
By S. R. CROCKETT.
Copyrieht 1907 by 8. Crockett, Rightl Reservw
(CHAPTER IX Continued.)
The tall girl disappeared for a mom
ent after a pause, in which it. was
manifest that she was delivering a
little lecturette. The uplifted fore
finger, menacing, said as much.
Though Jacob could see that it in
timidated nobody Good again! No
self-will. She would do as Jacob
Romer ordered. He should have no
ilifficulties of any kind. Better for
aim if she had.
Presently the infant mistress reap
peared. She bore a cake of soap, a
sponge, while a rough towel was over
her arm. Then the line of small five
year olders began to swerve and
dodge. They got one behind the other.
There were cries of "Come out o' that,
you Joe!" "Please, mother washed
nie juss 'fore I cotue! She did indeed,
ma'am!"
But nothing availed. In a very busi
ness-like way, and as one used to the
task, the tall girl called them forward
one by one, and in spite of their'pro
tests, washed (or re-washed) her flock,
paying no attention to tile eyes, all
screwed up into twists for fear of
soap. Futhermore, she behaved like
a very Stanley in the trackless wastes
of darkest Africa behind their ears.
Still, not one cried and not one re
fused the ordeal. Indeed, each stood
to attention so soon as their own
scrubbing was done, and enjoyed to
the full the sufferings of their com
rades—as good little Sunday school
children ought to do.
"Good and better!" thought Jacob
Romer, as he halted a moment 011 his
heel to peer through the gate of the
playground. Whereupon a tail boy,
acting the part of janitor and magni
fying his office, shut the door in his
face, but Jacob, for once nothing an
gered, only murmured. "She has
enough firmness to manage children,
what can a man wish for more?"
He congratulated himself that he
was not the prey to any foolish senti
ment, such as igorant and youthful
persons can "love." He never did
anything more calmly in his life. He
was suffering from a disease, that
was all. He had diagnosed it, he had
found the remedy, and now he was
going to apply it.
He stepped all the way to the cor
ner of the road, where Newcastle
highway ran long and straight to the
horizon, with its length almost clear
of the week-day traffic of wagons, and
the pavements only encumbered by a
few Sunday strollers, and belated
school children in their best array.
He discovered that the street was
named Ryan street, and so by a sim
ple reasoning process the building
which interested him would be called
Ryan street Sunday school.
"Good," he said, after a little, "I
will go and look up that superintend
ent."
He fumbled in his pockets for a
card. His name was a good introduc
tion In Thorsby and the neighborhood
people were wont to look twice at a
card with "Jacob Incubus Gorm Rom
er," upon it. He heard the hymn rise
and fall, the scuffling hush of the
prayer. Then to his ear came the
scurry and drumming clatter of the
classes dismissing to their work. He
let this settle a bit, and then strolled
to the door. With a roll-book and a
sheaf of papers in his hand the super,
intendent—a small, eager, black-eyed
man—was bolting across the little
bricked courtyard when Jacob stop
ped him, big and strong.
"You are the superintendent of
Ryan street Sunday school?" he asked.
The quick, bird-like little man nod
ded, caught in mid-stride and slowly
letting the arrested front-foot sink to
the ground. Jacob put the card back
in his pocket
"Then, since we are face to face,'
he said. "I need not trouble you with
this piece of pasteboard. I am Mr.
Jacob Incubu6 Gorm Romer
"Ah," said the superintendent,flush
ing, "the nephew of
"Precisely," Jacob cut his short,
recognizing him as a clerk and
collector under the Thorsby board of
Guarlians. "I have beon much inter
ested in your work here, having to
pass this way to my uncle's offices
from my rooms
"Ah, indeed! Delighted! What can
I do for you,"
The superintendent scented afar off
a subscription for struggling Ryan
street, and the nephew of their ground
landlord was certainly not to be bowed
to the door like the first comer.
"Would you like to see our work
in action, sir?"
Jacob would, and in a minute he
was being introduced to Miss French,
"who so ably and conscientiously
teaches our infant-class." As they
went out Jacob, as if impressed by
the long array of awe-struck chubby
face, all now clean, remarked: "That
is a difficult task who did you say
was the young iady eacher?"
"She is a Miss French," said the
superintendent. "Her lather is a re
tired country post-master and school
master. She has been well brought
up, sir, and lives in Cliff Square."
"So I see, so I see," said Jacob,
meditatively.
He glanced at the other depart
ments, said some kind things as to
arrangements, asked the superintend
ent to allow him to send him a check
in aid of the funds, and got away,
much more expeditiously than th.-j sup
erintendent had expected. He thought
he had captured a sympathetic listen
er for the whole hour and a half. He
might even be persuaded to give them
a little "closing address." The super
intendent was always on the lookout
for new material of that sort.
But Jacob was goue, and Ryan
Why not own
a
good
Banjo. They are easy to
play. Our prices are very
reasonable—$3, $5, JS and
$10 Easy payments if de
sired.
ARNOLD'S
Jewelry and Music 8tore,
Ottumwa Iowa.
street saw him no more, though he
sent the check in due time—ill as, at
the moment, he could afford it.
But he found his way to Cliff
Square. He met Miss French on the
Newcastle road and, claiming ac
quaintance, walked home with her
asking questions about her class. Her
home proved to be a little eight-aml
sixpenny cottage belonging to his
uncle's farm, which, but for the
cheapness of the rent and the fact that
it was attached to a similar one on
either side, would fain have called
itself a "villa," and so its rent raised
to ten-and-six.
Jacob was pleased with the ex
schoolmaster, equally so with his wife,
both old folks. They were wrapped
up In their daughter. Neither mixed
with the neighbors, hardly knowiug
them even by sight, so carefully had
they "kept themselves to them
selves."
When he got out and was pacing
slowly back, Jacob who never saw any
difficulties and always looked well
ahead, murmured only to himself:
"Wood Green—yes, Wood Green would
do!"
And it turned out so. Step by step,
as he planned the matter, the young
man's imperious will drove the thing
through. It was manifestly impossible
to say a word to his uncle, who would
have cut him off for a young fool
making a misalliance. But Jacob knew
better. He was no fool. He knew
very well what he was doing. Wood
Green was a little hamlet where
property was cheap, three miles from
Thorsby, but there wae a railway sta
tion quite convenient. In the sum
mer Jacob had the choice of returning
by steamer to a pier within easy walk
ing distance, Above all, it was also
the "other side of the water" from his
terrible uncle.
As for the feelings of Caroline
French, or his future Interests, these
did not matter. She was a step in
the advancement of Jacob Romer.
That, doubtless, should be sufficient
for her.
CHAPTER X.
Jacob's Ladder to Success.
So the home was arranged, the mar
riage made. And far as Jacob Romer
was concerned the success of the ven
ture was immediate and complete. He
encountered the little house at Wood
Green, the neat garden, the well-plan
ned meals, and the kindly face of his
young wife every night with a certain
fresh surprise. They were a recently
acquired part of his estate. Some
what riskily he had invested in them,
and he meant that they. should yield
him a certain definite return. Nor
was he deceived.
In a month he could pass a race
course, or an array of swathed horses
going out to the exercise paddock,
without a quickening of the pulses.
He even paid for admission one day
to the grand stand at the Thorsby
spring races, and came away without
betting. He did this as a test case.
Having won, he could certainly win
all along the line. His purpose with
Caroline, his wife, was therefore
served.
Oh, of course, Jacob Romer would
do what was right by his wife. Small
fear of that—only, she must in all
matters, great and small, submit her
self to his imperial judgment as to
what was best.
And this Caroline did. And not
only for herself, but she so worked
upon her father, the feeble, retired
postmaster, and her mother, the
silent housemistress, that from their
lips came no murmur of complaint.
Their daughter was married—well
married—they told their friends. She
lived at some distance, but came re
gularly to see them. No, it was not
a rich marriage. The young man was
a well-doing lad, and in time would
do better. But for the present—well,
no doubt it took the young folk all
their time to make both ends meet.
All the while Caroline knew no
more of her husband's affairs than If
she had been the spaniel that yapped
at his approach, and then hid from
his uplifted cane tinder the red cur
rant bushes, just now bursting into
leaf. Some wives there are who do
not wish to know such things—who
take bite and sup, hearth fire and
clothing, purse and payment as their
right, without for a moment caring to
know aught of the struggles, disap
point,'u-^nts, anguishes, and the long
working hours which have produced
for them these necessities and lux
uries.
Caroline was not one of these. She
would have sympathised with infinite
zeal, though with little knowledge, if
Jacob had designed to tell her any
thing. But, as he did not, she was
quite content to accept everything as
"Just Jacob's goodness." Her world,
like the original one after the six
days' creation, waB "very good."
Specially was Caroline happy when
little Vida Romer began to grow from
a baby into a child. She had, of
course, always loved her dn-'-jhter—
always given her the first pU. But
she had not let her husband he (or
hear) too much of the small elf-like
thing who cried but seldom—but when
she did. almost so as to rend the ceil
ing, screaming out her baby angers
with clenched battering fists and fea
tures wiredrawn into a myriad puck
ers.
Now, like her parents in Thorsby,
Mrs. Jacob Romer, in the little house
out at Wood Green, "kept herself to
herself." More than that, so far as
in her lay. she kept her baby to her
self. She had a subtle sense that men
like her husband did not care to be
troubled with little red mottled mor
sels. liable to perform shrilly unre
hearsed vocaj music at quite uncer
tain intervals. So if Jacob Romer
saw little of his wife, coming home
late in the spring gloamings, and go
ing forth early in the keen easterly
blowing spring mornings, he saw still
less of his daughter VMa.
Afterwards he meant (of course) to
do something for them. But in real
ity, their role ^as played out when
Jacob could deny himself a race
course, and the pleasure o£ staking
more money than he could afford upon
a favorite horse. For the woman and
the child personally, he cared nothing
—at least no more than he did for
the cheap workman's watch which en-
During these months his uncle still
lived. He was compelled, therefore, to
represent himself as an unmarried
man. And It chanced that amongst
others he met Miss Georgian Bunny,
the sister of Sir Bulleigh Bunny, the
impoverished baronet from whom he
had purchased some of the Gorm
estates, and with whom he was con
sequently constantly in touch.
For twenty years Miss Georgiana
had been known to all the country as
"a most capable woman." She pos
sessed strongly marked traits, a mas
culine presence, and all the brains of
the family had been settled exclusive
ly behind her capacious brow and
within her well proportioned head.
At least her onl" brother, Sir Bunny,
had none. This last was a certainty.
There is no doubt that Miss
Georgiana Bunny attracted the master
of Gorm castle—that is to say, Jacob
Romer, very strongly. In her com
pany .listening to her easy, careless,
world-wise talk, he often forgot the
little house at Wood Green, forsaken
and neglected, and the man wife who
never troubled him even with de
mands for money, or even for his soc
iety. Jacob Romer had never had a
"real lady" interested in him before,
and the newness of the sensation en
hanced tile pleasure. From that time
forth, he went no more south to the
little home on the egde of Wood
Green Waste. His foot never crossed
the threshold. His daughter Vida
grew up unknown to him, but for her
part quite able to indentify her father.
For his portrait stood on the mantle
piece of her mother's room, which was
also hers. If it had not been for hurt
ing Caroline Romer's feelings, she
would have scratched it as with the
talons of a fierce young sparhawk. In
deed with her proud alert pose, fierce
eyes, her black circumflex eyebrows,
and determined mouth (albeit ahat
was red as a geranium), little Vida
Romer certainly had an expression
extremely like one of the lesser Fal
cons—the sparrow-hawk for choice.
Then came a week when the silent,
self-contained woman gave way. For
nearly two months 110 remittance had
come from her husband. Somehow the
thought of appealing to her parents
was a pain quite inexpressible. The
thing itself seemed impossible. Caro
line, who had taught so well her in
fant class at Ryan street, loved her
little girl far too well to leave her in
the misery of dependence. She there
fore took her in her arms and they
went out to die. As a girl Caroline had
often found her way to Chillingham
High Cliff, where the new lighthouse
was abuilding. She had sat there and
thrilled to the sound of the surges of
the German ocean breaking hushed
and hollow beneath.
"Where are we going, mother?"
Vida questioned, none so sure of the
meaning of these things. She had
never been out on the sea-edge by
starlight before. Nor was she content
with her mother's answer that it was
"such a nice night, and they were go
ing to take a bonny walk all by them
selves!"
"Then wh.v not go into the town and
see the shops?" retorted Vida, practi
cally.
But .this was quite another thing,
past all the docks and ships, across a
weary common, then over the level
crossing on the Clinton line, and so
to the dark truncated mound on the
sea cliff, bristling with cranes and
scaffolding.
Then, suddenly seizing Vida in a
close embrace, and in hurried whisp
ers beseeching her pardon for what
she was about to do, Caroline crossed
the road to leap out upon the black
rocks and white foam far below. But
as they went Vida struggled. She was
taken with the quick access of fear
Inetic Energy
Kinetic is a good word. It
meaiu "powcrto make things
go." A fat bank account, a
rock on the edge of a hill,
a barrel of gunpowder, and
SCOTT'S EMULSION all
contain "kinetic energy,"
so the professor tells us.
Power is stored up in
Scott's Emulsion!
This force let loose in the
system of the consumptive
gives him the strength to
take on new flesh. It is a
powerful flesh-prcducer.
AUDrussuU 50c. $i.QC.
•ruB ')rru'-nv.\. uutciww
abled him to get to the office in proper 1 driving. He caught up the little girl
time of mornings, or the folded foot
rule he carried in his pocket to help
him set and guage his men's work.
Tools—nothing else.
Then his Uncle Jacob Incubus Gorm
the Frst died and he, Jacob Romer
the Second, reigned in his stead. For
a long time before that, Jacob had
been chiefly in Scotland, opening up
the new Incubus coal and Iron mines
in which there were, as he had dis
covered, millions of money snugly
which' gives strength. She escaped
from her mother and ran screaming
along the cliff road.
packed away in certain rusty clods
which were iron, and other black ir- tor's action. He reached the height
regular rhomboids, which came to the'of the lighthouse cliff, only in time to
surface from the splendid coal seams see the waft of a white dress go over
midway between the pitmouth and the
iron-ore.
It was here, while opening the earth
to let out these miggeas of rust and
grime, that Jacob Romer had his earl
iest visions of another life. So far
his own had only meant millions, and
the ladder to them. But. whilst Gorm
Castle was building, and the Gorm
estates were in course of acquisition,
A young man stepped from a light,
hooded vehicle, which he had been
and pacified her.
"My mother! my mother!"she cried.
"And where is your mother?" asked
Dr. Hubert Salveson, the young Thors
by doctor, for he was the 'nan with
the capoted vehicle.
"Yonder, yonder," cried the child
"she is going to jump into the tide.
She tried to take me with her."
Hubert Salveson paused a moment.
The girl might be romancing, but
again she might not. However, there
the cliff.
"Here, hold my horse!" he called
out to Vida, for he had been driving
alone by himself. The girl sprang to
the mare's head. As he rushed after
the vanishing drift of white, Hubert
Salveson recalled the time when his
I
brother and he used t.o come bird-uest
ing there—his brother to sit on the
I cliff top and name the eggs. He re-
Jacob was brought into contact with membered the ledges. They were in
several quiet, low-voiced men of long series, if he mistook not—one neiow
lineage, from whom the land was the other, thick grown with gorse a.nd
slipping away, even as the power of heather. He doubted it anyone, with
pit-and-gallows had gone from their the worst intentions in the world,
forefathers. He met their women
folks also—at once proud and infinite
ly gentle, who had a cool way of as
serting superority that made Jacob's
soul bristle like a hedgehog. They
impressed him, nevertheless.
could leap far enough out to fall clear
into the tide beneath.
Nevertheless he let himself down,
his fingers gripping the ledges of
rock. He felt for the next shelf with
his feet, for he was a married man
now, and had no right to play fast and
loose with his life.
Presently he was on firm standing
ground, and could catch glimpse ot
the creepy phosphorescence far be
neath, where the breakers fell, flood
ed white, and retired roaring sulkily.
For the space of a long minute he
could discern nothing distinctly. Then
on the same ledge, but a little beneath
him, he made out a lump, huddled and
indistinct, but plainly human. Living
also, as he found the next, moment. It
was, however, altogether impossible
for him to lift up Mrs. Romer higher
than his head, and Vida could not as
sist him He therefore called to her
to go and fetch assistance wherever
she could find it.
"Jump in the trap and give the
mare her head!" he scouted. "There
is no time to lose!"
It was a pity for all the world, ex
cept perhaps for the being of this
story .that the help which Vida
brought back was no other than her
own uncle. Dr. Thomas Romer, ot
Torsby. a man like-minded with his
brother Jacob, and the particular
enemy of Dr. Hubert Salveson.
And from this Ill-omened meeting
flowed many things.
Among others Dr. Thomas Romer
wrote to his brother that his wife was
definitely mad, and that she would
really be much better in an asylum
where she could be taken care of. She
suffered from suicidal if not homici
dal mania. The advice jumped alto
gether with Jacob Romer's humour.
Tom was ready to assist him, on the
usual terms as arranged between the
brothers. But what to do with the
child was the question. Tom Romer
called her a "young wild cat," and
steadily refused to charge himself
with her on any terms.
After the brief adventure of the
"Poor Side" of Thorsby asylum, the
removal to a certain distant depend
ency of the great Gorm properties in
Scotland, was planned. So that there
wife and daughter could be kept well
under the eye of the husband and
father, without being allowed to show
themselves too much in public.
Jacob's scheme, as vaguely outlin
ed in his head, was simply to isolate
his wife till—well—till death might re
lease him of the burden. As to his
daughter—well, he would see. For the
present there was no need to disquiet
himself about her.
But by this time he had taken
James Kahn, an adventurer of whom
no one knew even the nationality, as
his confidant and second-in-command.
And James Kahn thought he knew a
quicker way to rid his master of his
burden. And at the same time clear
his own way to the heirship of the pos
sible Incubus millions.
He imagined therefore the scuttling
of The Good Intent, and the abandon
ing of the woman and child on the
night of the storm. The crew were
first sent off by themselves, while the
captain and Kahn landed with their
boat farther down the coast—only the
two of them saved. Kahn did not lose
sight of his accomplice till he had seen
him safe on his way to the Argentine
Republic, with a couple of hundred
pounds in his pocket—the payment of
which he grudged, but considered a
good investment.
After that James Kahn felt secure
till he saw the gir] he had counted
dead stand by the door of D|ck Fin
nan's cottage at Glebe End. Mordecai
was once more at Haman's gate, and
what is more, he had a daughter with
him—though only an adopted one.
CHAPTER XI.
Choirs and Christians.
In spite of being "Kirks," and three
churches dwelled in unity—that is,
for the most part. To remark that
competition was severe is only to say
that they were Scotch and Presbyter
ian. But the usuu.1 truck-and-barter of
sporadic discontent was ruled out.
After all. they were almost equally
proud, and with about equal reason-
The Auld Kirk, the Kirk of the ori
ginal Kirk town, still stood—modern
ised indeed, but with its ancient bell
tower erect to witness, in its reverend
age, to the exact spot where three
centuries ago they had burned the last
of the kirktown witches. The Auld
Kirk of Scotland was the mother if
a brood of children who had set up for
themselves. But still, after all, they
were children to be proud of.
The Kirk of Forty-three'' was known
as the Valley Kirk, just as the Camer
onian was the Hill Kirk, and that of
the "Establishment" the "Kirkyaird"
Kirk.
But the haughtiest sect, the most
austere, the particular assembly of the
stalwarts who had never bowed the
knee, was of course the Cameraman
fold—a Kirk of the Martyrs indeed,
set on the hill which could not be hia.
Toe very names of the three KlrK
town ministers were held to be signi
ficative. For the establishment was
pastored by the Reverend Angus La
ment. who to a vague, dry. ofacial
Does your back ache? Do you get
up lame in the morning?? Do you feci
dull and tired? Does it hurt you *x
bend over, to lift anything, to get up
from a chair? Do you have sudden,
"catches" or stitches of pain in the
back? Does a dull, throbbing ache
settl« in the small of your back and
bother you day and night? Do you
sometimes feel that you simply can
not straighten up?
If you do have backache, be careful
not to make the very common mlstakt
of treating it as a muscular trouble
Do not rub the Bore place with lini
ment, nor put on plasters, for the seat
was no hesitation as to the young doc- of the trouble is inside—in the kid
neys, which lie just beneath the small
of the back, on either side of the
spine.
A cold, a chill, a fever, overwork
overeating or overdrinking may start
a slight congestion or inflammation'
in the kidneys that will at once Inter
rupt the kidneys' work of filtering the
blood. It is this condition that sets ur
the aching and makes your back so!
bad.
You can not make any mistake by
treating the kidneys at once, for It Is
these small troubles that lead to
dropsy, diabetes and Bright's disease
If there ts any doubt In your mind that
the kidneys are affected, notice the
urine for a few days. If passages are
Sold
theology added something of Celtic
fire and true poetic sensibility. He
was a man who would always be
young, boyish at heart, not easily
taking offence nor meaning to give it.
but with an unruly evil of a tongue
which frequently brought him trouble.
John Fowler was the Valley Kirk
minister, a learned man and a fine
preacher, living perhaps too much up
on the mountain-tops of thought. But
he educated his congregation,and add
ed thereto daily. For his word was
with power, and to him duty had be
come well-nigh a fetish. Bodily he
was trained fine, perhaps too fine. For
a mind like John Fowler's, vivid,
alert, unsatisfied with anything mere
ly obivious or received, needs a solid
bodily envelope to support It. A hard
driven engine ought to have the sup
port of extra-solid bearings and bed
plate. For the rest Mr. Fowler was
dark-eyed, alert, vivid, and sadly shy
with strangers, and indeed, with all
whom he felt instinctively incapable
of understanding him. Yet, curiously
enough, he was at home with all work
ing folk. The common people heard
him gladly. However, abstruse his
subjects of discourse, there was al
ways a nail of fact of principle to
join them on to everyday life. Mr.
Fowler carried his weight and learn
ing "lightly like a flower." and few
who met the rather dreamy and dis
tan man would have guessed at. the
swift, keen insight which went direct
ly to the heart of a problem, uprooted
fallacies and detected the true gold,
grown dim under the defilements of
street corners and the mire of thron
ing pavements.
Lastly the Kirk of the hill was
ministered to by the Reverend Ben
jamin Irongray. He was the junior of
the three and a bachelor—a man of
strict views and stricter life, grown
a little dishearted from long battering
the cold iron anvil of his people's be
lief. No melting-pots for the faith of
the Ironsides! No refiners' fire for the
seven times repured gold! The con
gregation on the hill was "the Peo
ple." and well it knew it. And so.
sometimes to his coat, did their min
ister.
To this congregation Jacob Romer
nominally belonged. A defender of
vested rights, an upholder of law and
order, he would naturally have been
found in the establishment. But some
thing akin to his own grim nature
commended itself to Jacob Romer in
the austere and undiluted Calvinism
of the gospel according to the Martyrs.
"If a man is saved, he is saved, and
there is 110 more to be said." so Mr.
Romer argued in his rate theological
moods. "If he is lost—well, it was so
arranged in the councils of Eternity.
Either way, tjie man has no responsi
bility In the matter. An excellent
doctrine! I conduct my business on
these principles, and I expect you,
Kahn, to do the same. Promote a
man or discharge him. But never give
hliji »i reason. Every going concern
ought to have but one head, stern, in
fallible, irresponsible—the Incubus
Pits just the same as the Universe."
So Jacob Romer gradually became
a power in the Kirk of the hill, but
the minister, Benjamin Irongray, wa3
undismayed. For he feared not the
face of man—save only his session a
little and his choir a great deal. In
which he much resembled other min
isters.
Now, all choirs are full of the anci
ent Adam and the no less ancient Eve
—Scottish mixed choirs especially.
It was the minister's mother who was
directly responsible for the Cameron
ian choir in Kirktown. Mrs. Irongray
had been born out of the purple, a
mere TJ. P, brought up under Burgher sink m, and then continued:
in is S
better Bitter were- the conflicts be
fore the Kirk of the Hill would submit
to receive a choir.
The minister did not want it. The
presentor did not want it. The session
did not want it. Jacob Romer foamed
at the idea. But little Mrs. Walter
Irongray, with her wire-drawn old
maidish ways—the face of the mother
of the "only child"—beat them all
just by sticking to it.
But forming the choir was easier
than running the choir when formed.
That Indian institution called caste
is as powerful in Kirktown as in all
other Christian countries.
The best voice in the congregation
was that of Vida Bryjan, who sat
CASTOR IA
For Infants and Children.
The Kind You Have Always Bought
Bears the
Signature of
IT'S YOUR KIDNEYS
every
Picture
Tells
#Stor
S KIDNEY PILLS
by «I1 dealers. Price to cents. Fostbr-Milburn Co.. Buffalo, N.Y., Proprietor*.
alone in Dick Finnin's pew when Dick
took the bead of the elder's seat, just
under the precentor's forsaken desk.
He conducted the choir now with his
back to the congregation, and there
were those who felt that a glory haa
passed from Zlon. Still, in the main,
the minister's mother had her way.
But Vida Bryan also a will of her
own, and having a light blouse for the
summer, she declined to change it at
the bidding of Mrs. Walter Irongray,
for "something dark and respectable."
So It came about that a certain
young man of broad shoulders, ener
getic physicque, and quite unaccustom
ed to church going, found himself
Sunday after Sunday in the Kirk of
the Hill, in close proximity to the
white blouse and white-and-lilac
blossomy hat, which spread a spring
like freshness about the pew of old
Dick Finnan, distinctly noticeable
within a radius of ten years, not
counting the gallery.
On the other hand, little Miss Nuns
bv's father was a New Religionist
(the tenets of which sect varied
month by month according to Mr.
Nunby's liver), sand so he went no
where. But little Miss Ntinby fre
quented Ihe Kirk of the Hill, where
she mostly disagreed with the sermon
but comforted herself by looking at
Vida her Vida!
Continued in Next Issue.
"Their choir?—bah!" exclaimed
Miss Nunsby, after the music-lesson
was over one fine afternoon in early
autumn. "Don't speak to me of their
choirs. They want to be thought fine
singers and to sit peacocking on the
platform. Besides, there's the happi
ness of quarrelling with the precentor,
and the summer choir trip into the
How they will get on with the others,
who are only village girls. 1 don't
know."
"Surely they' will not quarrel on
Sundays?" said Vida, with something
of hope in her tone. The Kirk of the
Hill was occasionally a dull place dur
ing the leaguelong diets of worship.
"Won't they, though!" cried little
Miss Nunsby "the new comers ^vill
snub the 'girls' and shop-women'—be
cause, they are ladies. They do not
stand behind a counter, but only keep
house for their fathers and brothers,
who do. The 'girls' will take the best
front-row seats by getting early to
church, just to spite the 'ladies.' And
the whole will be blamed on the pre
centor. It will be a marvel if the
minister manages to keep out of it.
He won't if his mother joins the
choir!"
"But why does he let her?"
"Who, Mr. Irongray?" little Miss
Nunsby sniffed "that shows that you
don't know the minister's mother very
well."
"She always is very pleasant when
she calls here."
"Yes. Vida," her friend smiled as
she spoke "but then you are not her
son." She allowed time for this to
A
A manse," said Miss Nunsby, "Is,
of course, a little out-work of Eden—
or ought to be. But Mrs. Irongray
sees to it that," if Benjamin does not
do as she wants, the house shall be
something very different."
"I think you are unkind," said Vida:
"even if it were true, you should be
sorry. It must be dreadful to have
your illusions shattered."
"Ah, I never had any," said little
Miss Nunsby, somewhat bitterly. "Na
ture and my' father's teaching settled
that for me."
She shrugged her higher shoulder
ever so slightly as she spoke. Where
upon Vida rushed at her, the tears
welling promptly from her eyes.
"Ah. cruel!" she cried, "to speak so
of yourself, and to me—who love you
so!"
L,itt.le Miss Nunsby held off a mom
ent. quivering between love for her
darling and general contempt for the
world's inequalities.
"Po you love me—I wonder?" she
sa£? :-2rughtfully. "Can anyone love
a me? I would be so happy
if I eooM Only know!"
Irregular, painful, or too scanty., dl*»
colored, or full of sediment, the' Wd
neys need help right away, and there
no other medicine more helpful than
Doan's Kidney Pills, a simpl« remedy
for the kidneys, yet so powerful that
It quickly cures the oause and so ends
all the painful and annoying sytnp
torn. Home testimony proves the
unfailing merit of Doan's Kidney .,
puis.
Ottumwa Testimony
Mrs. M. B. Kelter, 407 Waehington
street, North, Ottumwa, Ia„ says: "I
was a victim of kidney complaint foi
some time, and have doctored for th«
cure of same faithfully. I never exper
ienced any relief until I used Doan'l
Kidney Pills, procured at Sargent'l
Drug Store, but can surely say that
this remedy gave me relief and a ben
efit that has been lasting. My spe»
cial trouble was a bloating and swell
ing of my feet and ankles, an annoy
ing kidney weakness which got my
system into a sort of a dropsical condi
tion. Since I used Doan's Kidney FilH
so successfully, I have often endorsed
their use and will continue to do so, foi
I Just know them to be fine."
"Oh! you will get married!" said
Miss Nunsby, "and then it will all be
over—except a cup of afternoon te*
once a fortnight if you live In the
neighborhood."
"You shall see—you shall see!" an
swered Vida. "I would not for a hun
dred husbands that anything should
come between us."
The little music-teacher ctk JPrd
her friend gratefully enough. But :a
her heart she said, "It is not the hun
dred husbands, but the one that I
have cause to fear."
The entrance of the authoritative
Mrs. Walter Irongray into the choir of
the Kirk of the Hill did not produce
all the effect that good lady Intended.
Her precious, but too docile, son was
still worried. Regularly the precenaor
gave In his resignation to the sessions
once a month at their statutory meet
ing.
Still, after all, something was af
fected by hed staid presence. The
young men behind did no! pass voice
lozenges wrapped in declarations of
affection to the girls seated in front
of them—which custom was not only
unseemly in itself, but more so be
cause frequently the bull's-eye dropped
out. and rolled like marbles., off the
platform on to the heads of the elders
sitting beneath.
These venerable and duly ordained
men really ought not to have been as
sured that "Sugar was Sweet, ,and So
were They." The information was
as erroneous as it was uncalled for,
and a recurrence of the motto on
gr
bargain you know the announcement certainly not annoyed every minuta
Jn tVio ITii'l/ lAiirnol alnro ve cifl ve 'or*- 1 ....
in the Kirk Journal always says "ac
companied by their friends and sweet
hearts." Are you going to join?"
"Ugh," said Vida, "don't, you make
me shudder!"
"You ueedn't," said the little music
mistress, with something of her
father's irony, "you will have to do it
now. The minister's mother is join
ing, and all the great people, even
Miss McTarter of the paper-shop
"The one they called Cream o'Tar
tar," said Vida. smiling languidly.
"Yes. Creamie Mc.Tartar—her real
name is Isabella. Then there's Mrs.
Horniman from the livery stables, and
the foremans' wives and the butcher's
daughter. These are all 'ladles'.
"I shall prove it, unbelievers" cried
Vida. with wet eyes.
a
communion day nearly led to tha
abolition of the choir altogether.
But, again, after Mrs. Walter Iron-
ay entered the choir her son waa
during his sermon by some chorister
turning round with a half-concealed
yawn to look at the clock. This was
an implied reproach that the minister
could illbear. Nor did they whisper
so much, neither giggle nor nudge,
nor yet let fall Bibles with clasps. I
do not mean that these things actually
ceased. They c^n only cease when the
earthly praise of the lower sanctuary
merges into the higher and heavenly.
Still, there was a difference, and a
difference, too, on the right side.
Jacob Romer had a pew all to him
self in the Kirk of the Hill. It was a
square box-seat, and was distinguished
from all others by showing no dogs'
heads, or ships, or railway engines,
or caricatures of the officiating min
ister scratched with a nail on tha
paint. This was because no boys ever
profaned that solemn enclosure. Even
at evening service, when the Kirk wag
indifferently lighted, and the gallery
entirely closed, it was never invaded.
The very Muirheads, the show "bad
boys" of Kirktown, would have shud'
dered to think of defiling it.
From it Jacob Romer watched ovei
the minister's theology, the service,
and the congregation. And it was
from thence that he first remarked
Vida Bryan's presence in Duck Fin
nan's seat, and recalled the girl who
had been already pointed out to hira
by his brother on the way to Pit N*
2.
"Thomas always was a fool!" h«
growled. But nevertheless in his gen
eral survey of the congregation his
eyes sometimes returned questionly
to the quarter where Vida sat alone,
a little to the left, farther down the
church, in a plain, uncushioned pew.
For directly behind her, only the in
terval of one seat separating them,
sat Mr. Romer's best underground en
gineer, Mr. Ludovic Morris.
The autocrat of the Incubus Pita
was wont to eye the young man murk
ily for some time. Then his thin lips
twitched into the ghost of a smile,
thin and faded, indeed, but still a
smile. And he added, still thinking
of his brother, "And it strikes me that
Vic Morris is another!"
(Continued in next issue.)
When December's icy fingers
Have shorn each forest tree,
It's time to tone your system
By taking Hollister's Rocky Moun
tain Tea.
W. L. Sargent, the true druggist
corner Market &nd Main streets.
BAND INSTRUMENTS—New ant
S«cond Hand, at greatly reduced prices
We sail all makes of Band Instru*
ments.
ARNOLDS
jjewalry and Music Store, Ottumwa, la