STOLEN LOVE
The postmaster at Chelsea station
had a conscience, of course. Every
body has. The public servants into
whose hands the government’s postal
affaire are intrusted are not generally
credited with being the possessors of
such an inconvenient article, but the
worthy official of the above-mentioned
point was an exception to the rule.
An explanation of that statement
may be given b.v telling yon that not
only was Silas Gardiner the distributor
of the mails, but a deacon in the Bap
tist Church as well, so, although the
same conscience was composed of
many ingredients that also are consti
tuent parts of Indian rubber, and al
though it ofttimes became so elastic
ns to allow of his reading postal cards
letters not securely sealed and so forth,
we may be sure that never was he
guilty of such an offense without ex
periencing man.v severe twinges of
that troublesome monitor.
One Thursday there camo an unusual
ly strong temptation. The 4 o’clock
mail came in. bringing a letter that
sent the blood surging in crimson
waves over Postmaster Gardiner’s face
and made his heart beat against its
prison like a trip-hammer.
It was not a very important looking
letter; just a small, square white en
velope addressed in an even business
hand, but it was the name that pro
duced the postmaster's paroxysm of
curiosity. It was no remarkable tiling
for Miss Millicent Darrell to be the re
cipient of letters, but never before had
she received one in the free, dashing
hand that graced the envelope that lay
before him. He well knew that, for
not a missive for Miss Darrell had
passed through the office that lie had
not examined the writing closely .
Through the long hours of the even
ing while the neighbors had congregat
ed in the little room there was a con
flict in the postmaster's mind. I,ike
the Danish prince, he was trying to
solve the question: “To be or not to
be,” “To do or not to do.” By 8:40
the little room was deserted. Securely
fastening the outer door and the one
communicating with the sitting-room
of his sister”s family, the postmaster
removed the oil lamp from its accus
tomed place on the bracket on the wall
to his desk in the corner and once
more took up Millicent's letter.
He held it up to the light.; he put It
back in box No. 13; he took it up and
looked at it again, and then carefully
broke the seal and removed the closely
•written sheets from their covering.
He looked at them a few minutes as
they lay there exposed to view as if
(wondering how he dared to be so bold.
(But the Rubicon was crossed: there
was no retreating, and lie pushed cour
ageously forward and read Miss Milli
cent's letter.
The postmaster’s life had always been
very prosaic. There was one thing in
ins remembrance that had ever shed
a roseate glow over the commonplace,
monotonous expanse of years that he
had lived through, and that was an
•unavowed affection for Millicent Dar
rell. He had worshiped her from afar
;wben they had gone to school together
at the little red brick house nt the foot
of the hill. Time had but served to
strengthen this childish devotion.
Through youth and the first years of
manhood she had been his star of Beth
lehem, as it were, fullv as unapproach
able as though she had in reality oc
cupied in a world far beyond the sphere
wherein he dwelt.
She may have been aware of the hom
age that was hers, but had given no
encouragement to the admirer, who was
too faint-hearted to give expression to
bis regard by word or sign, but who
hopelessly waited for some one else to
win the prize that he so much valued.
But for reasons best known to herself
alone, Miss Darrell preferred a life of
Single blessedness to one of double
wretchedness, ami passed contentedly
and comfortably into a state of old
iraidenhood, and the postmaster set
tled down into a chronic, lovelorn mel
ancholy, from which comatose condi
tion he was partially aroused, now and
then, by the thought that she might
yet change her mind and honor some
unfortunate being with her heart and
hand.
So that was the situation when Miss
Darretl went down to the seashore one
summer to visit her brother. Silas
Gardiner’s heart was filled with mis
givings during her absence, lest what
he had long feared should come to pass.
It was about a week after h?r return
in the autumn, that the carrier brought
the letter, the very appearance of which
was sufficient to produce such agitation
in his breast, and a perusal of whiffi
confirmed his instinctive belief in some
entangling alliance. That night, as he
read and reread the words that were
intended for Miss Millicent’s eyes alone,
his heart grew heavy, for every line
breathed forth an unmistakable devo
tion, which, judging by the frequent
illusions to future happiness, was not
(Unrequited.
It was near morning when he com
pleted his deliberations over the letter
and carefully located it in a seldom-used
compartment of his desk. The next
day Miss Darrell drove over to the of
fice with her niece and namesake, who
:had accompanied her on her return to
Chelsea Station, and inquired for mail.
At the disappointment “Is that all?”
with which both ladies received the con
tents of Box No. 13, a wave of re
pentance rolled over the postmaster’s
soul and the letter secreted in his pri
vate desk appeared before him like an
accusing angel.
During the .next few weeks letters
came for Miss Darrell on an average of
once a day—letters whose tone ranged
through the various phases of human
passion, from most tender affection to
extreme anger at their failure to elicit
a reply, and each, as it arrived, was
.read by Mr. Gardiner with a sort of
grim satisfaction and deposited with
its predecessors.
Miss Millicent’s niece was crying. “I
can't understand it,” she said to her
.elderly relative between sobs. “I’ve
ibeen here live weeks and not a word
jliave 1 heard from Charles. What can
it mean?"
“I’m not at all surprised. It’s just
as I expected.” Miss Millicent answer
ed, with a half-triumphant air. “Did
not I tell you so? Don’t you remember
what 1 said to you the first day I saw
him al»out deceit and rascality being de
picted upon his countenance? And I
consider myself a pretty good judge of
■ •
J
LETTERS.
human nature. Of course he'll never
write to you. He's just been making
a fool of you this summer."
‘I don't believe it,” the younger wo
man interrupted, angrily resenting the
allusion to her being duped by any one.
“I can not see why he doesn't write,
but 1 know well enough that he is not
false. Ours was not a summer engage
ment only; it was as sacred to him as
to myself. This silence Is unexplain
able, but I shall not doubt him.”*
In the recesses of her heart Miss
Darrell may have sympathized with
her niece, but she only expressed con
tempt for such a romantic trust in the
sincerity of a wooer who had been
known but one summer, and the dis
cussion ended there.
Charles Williams was puzzled and
angry, decidedly so. To the best of his
knowledge he had written thirty-five
letters to Miss Milliceut Darrell, the
younger, in as many days, not one of
which had she deemed worthy of an
answer.
“She's just like the rest, of ’em,” he
told his best friend when lamenting the
fact.
“So innocent and true she seemed,
too. What a fool 1 was to believe her.
She’s nothing but a confounded flirt.
I'll think no more about her.”
Contrary to his declaration of intend
ed forgetfulness, he thought more about
her than over, and the consequence was
that he went down to Chelsea station
the next day to investigate the case.
The explanations which directly fol
lowed his arrival convinced each young
person of the faithfulness of the other,
and Miss Darrell acknowledged her in
ability to interpret one’s nature from
the physiognomy.
But there was one question confront
ing them, “Where were those letters?”
Thirty-five epistles, all heavy laden
with deepest feeling, could hardly have
gone astray. 'The only possible solution
was that some one must have taken
them, but who could it have been?
Miss Darrell left the lovers discussing
the point, and, putting on her bonnet
and shawl, went quickly down to the
postoffice. The deacon was alone.
“Silas Gardiner,” she said coolly, “I
want my niece’s letters.”
“What do I know about Miss Milly’s
letters?” lie asked, witli assumed care
lessness.
“You know everything about them,”
she said, looking at him unflinchingly.
“I've been wondering about this thing
for weeks. I understand it all now.
They were Milly’s love letters and you
thought they were mine. As if an old
woman like myself would be guilty of
such nonsense! I suppose you have hid
den them or destroyed thenv For
shame, Silas Gardiner, to resort to such
trickery to prevent some other person
from having what you yourself are too
big a dunce to ask for!”
He wont to his desk and taking out
the bundle of letters, gave them to her,
saying:
“Here they are. I pray you not. to
expose me. 1 did it because of my love
for you. I could not bear ”
He said no more. It was not neces
sary. He could not have made a more
eloquent plea. A woman will forgive
many a grave offense if you will but
tell her it was committed through love
for her.
The culprit was pardoned, and it is
with authority that we state that he
never was guilty of a similar transgres
sion.
Just after Christmas that year Miss
Darrell received the following telegram:
"Dear Aunt—l was married yester
day.
“Milly Williams.”
To which the elder lady replied:
“Dear Milly—So was I.”
Millicent Gardiner.”
THE HINDOO SACRED RIVER.
India Disturbed by an Old Prophecy
Concerning the Gungr*.
The ancient prophecy to which ref
erence has been made in this journal
more than once, that the sanctity of
the river Ganges will pass to the Nar
bada in 1594-95, has been quoted very
widely by the Indian press, and is said
to be creating more uneasiness than
the mango-smearing. It appears that,
what with indignation! meetings in
every part of the country to protest
against the sacrifice of Indian finance
to the Manchester vote, the murder
ous feuds of the Mohammedans and
Hindoos, the criminal trials for slan
der which have sprung out of the mis
sionary misrepresentations on the
opium question, and the demand for
the public prosecution of a leading mis
sionary journal for insulting native
religious beliefs, a wave of unrest is
again passing over India The Tse
sarevitch in his account of his recent
travels in that country dwells at length
upon the prophesy and the silent revo
lution which he declares to be proceed
ing without suspicion on the part of
the British. A writer in the London
“Times” says of the prediction - "It
derives, of course, no authority from
the Veda. Nor have we, after some
inquiry, been able to discover a refer
ence to it in any text belonging to the
classical Sanskrit period. The earliest
authentic notice has been traced no
further back than the llewa-Khauda,
a local sacred poem in honor of the
Narbada. Sixty years ago Sir
Henry Sleeman mentioned it
in his journal as current
in the Narbada region of the Central
Provinces. About the year 1880 Sir
Monier-Williams heard a good deal
concerning it from the Brahmins of
Western India at Amadabad. The
change was to take place in 1051 of
the Samvat era, corresponding to 1894-
95 of our era. The ceremonial cycle
of the Hindoos is one of twelve years,
and the bathing festivals on the Gan
ges have each twelfth year a special
religious value. At the last of these
cycle anniversaries the devotion of the
populace was stimulated by the rumor
that they had better take advantage
of it lest the sanctity of the Ganges
should depart before the next occasion
arrived. Unprecedented multitudes
flocked to the bathing places along its
banks, and the demonstration was con
sidered of sufficient importance to find
its way, into the official record of the
period.”—New York Evening Post.
Logical.
Effie—Mammy, why do they hunt
lions and tigers?
Mamma—Because they kill 'h» poor
little sheep, Effie.
Effie (after a pause)—Then why don’t
they hunt the butchers, mammy?
TABERNACLE PULPIT.
DR. TALM ACE ON THE TRACEDY
OF DRESS.
Crimea Innumerable Have Their Origin
in the Cravings of Men and Women
for Fine Drenx —Arnold Betrayed Ills
Country for His Wife’s Attire.
Brooklyn, Aug. s.—Rev. Dr. Tal
mage, who is now in Melbourne, Aus
tralia, on his round-the-world tour,
has chosen as the subject of his sermon
for to-day through the press: “The
Tragedy of Dress,” the text selected
being I. I’et., iii; 3-4: “Whose adorn
ing let it not be that outward adorn
ing of plaiting the hair, and the wear
ing of gold, or of putting on of ap
parel; but let it be the hidden man of
the heart. ”
That we should all be clad is proved
by the opening of the first wardrobe
in Paradise, with its apparel of dark
green. That we should all, as far as
our means allow us, be beautifully
and gracefully appareled, is proved
by the fact that God never made a
wave but he gilded it with golden
sunbeams, or a tree but he garlanded
it with blossoms, or a sky but lie
studded it with stars, or allowed even
the smoke of a furnace to ascend but
columned and turreted and domed and
scrolled it into outlines of indescrib
able gracefulness. When I see the
apple orchards of the spring and the
pageantry of the autumnal forests I
come to tlie conclusion that if nature
ever does join the church, while she
may be a Quaker in the silence of her
worship, she never will be a Quaker
in the style of her dress. Why the
notches of a fern leaf, or the stamen
of a water lily? Why, when the day
departs, does it let the folding doors
of heaven stay open so long, when it
might go in so quickly? One summer
morning I saw an army of a million
spears, each one adorned with a dia
mond of the first water —I mean the
grass with the dew on it. When the
prodigal came home his father not
only put a coat on his back but jew
elry on his hand. Christ wore
a beard. Paul, the bachelor
apostle, not afflicted with any
sentimentality, admired the arrange
ment of a woman’s hair when he
said, in his epistle, “If a woman have
long hair, it is a dory unto her.”
There will be a fashion in heaven as
on earth, but it will be a different
kind of fashion. It will decide the
color of the dress; and the population
of that country, by a beautiful law,
will wear white. I say these things
as a background to my sermon, to
show you that 1 have no prim, precise,
prudish or cast iron theories on the
subject of human apparel. But the
goddess of fashion has set up her
throne in this world, and at the sound
of the timbrels we are all expected to
fall down and worship The old and
new testament of her Bible are the
fashion plates. Her altars smoke
with the sacrifice of the bodies, minds
and souls of ten thousand victims. In
her temple four people stand in the
organ loft, and from them there comes
down a cold drizzle of music, freezing
on the ears of her worshipers. This
goddess of fashion has become a rival
of the Lord of heaven and earth, and
it is high time that we unlimbered our
batteries against this idolatry. When
I come to count the victims of fash
ion, I find as many masculine as femi
nine. Men make an easy tirade against
woman, as though she were the chief
worshiper at this idolatrous shrine,
and no doubt some men in the more
conspicuous part of the pew have al
ready cast glances at the more retired
part of the pew, their look a prophecy
of a generous distribution. My ser
mon shall be as appropriate for one
end of the pew as for the other.
Men are as much the idolators of
fashion as women, but they sacrifice
on a different part of the altar. With
mtn the fashion goes to cigarsand
club rooms and yachting parties and
wine suppers. In the United States
the men chew up and smoke one hun
dred millions of dollars’ worth of to
bacco every year. That is their fash
ion. In London, not long ago. a man
died who started in life with seven
hundred and fifty thousand dollars,
but he ate it all up in gluttonies,
sending his agents to all parts of the
earth for some rare delicacy for the
palate, sometimes one plate of food
costing him three or four hundred
dollars. He ate up his whole fortune,
and only one guinea left; with that he
bought a woodcock, and had it
dressed in the very best style, ate it,
gave two hours for digestion, then
walked out on Westminster bridge and
threw himself into the Thames, and
died, doing on a large scale what you
and I have often seen done on a small
scale. But men do not abstain from
millinery and elaboration of skirt
through any superiority of humility.
It is only because such apendages
would be a blockade to business.
What would sashes and trains three
and a half yards long do in a stock
market? And yet men are the disci
ples of fashion just as much as
women. Some of them wear boots so
tight they can hardly walk in the
paths of righteousness. And there
are men who buy expensive suits of
clothes and never pay for them, and
who go through the streets in great
stripes of color like animated checker
boards. 1 say these things because I
want to show you that 1 am impartial
in my discourse, and that both sexes,
in the language of the surrogate’s of
fice, shall “share and share alike.” As
God may help me. I shall show you
what are the destroying and deathful
influences of inordinate fashion.
The first baleful influence I notice
is in fraud, illimitable and ghastly. Do
you know that Arnold of the revolu
tion proposed to sell this country in
order to get money to support his
wife’s wardrobe? I declare here be
fore God and this people that the
effort to keep up expensive establish-
meats in this country is sending more
business men to temporal perdition
than all other causes combined. What
was it that sent Gilman to the peniten
tiary, and Philadelphia Morton to
the watering of slocks, and the life
insurance presidents to perjured state
ments about their assets,and has com
pletely upset our American finances?
What was itthat overthrew the United
States secretary at Washington, the
crash of whose fall shook the conti
nent? But why should Igo to these
famous de faultings to show what men
will do in order to keep up great home
style and expensive wardrobe, when
you and I know scores of men who
are put to their wits’ end, and are
lashed from January to December in
the attempt Our politicians may
theorize until the expiration of their
terms of office as to the best way of
improving our monetary condition in
this country; it will be of no use, and
things will be no better until we learn
to put on our heads, and backs, and
feet, and hands no more than we can
pay for.
There are clerks in stores and banks
on limited salaries who, in the vain at
tempt to keep the wardrobe of their
family as showy as other folk's ward
robes, are dying of muffs, and dia
monds, and shawls, and high hats,
and they have nothing left except
what they give to cigars and wine
suppers, and they die before their
time and they will expect us ministers
to preach about them as though they
were the victims of early piety, and
after a high class funeral, with silver
handles at the side of the coffin, of
extraordinary brightness, it will be
found out that the undertaker is
cheated out of his legitimate expenses!
Do not send me to preach a funeral
sermon of a man who dies like that 1
blurt out the whole truth, and tell
that he was strangled to death by his
wife’s ribbons! Our countries are
dressed to death. You are not sur
prised to find that the putting up of
one public building in New York cost
millions of dollars more than it ought
to have cost, when you find that the
man who gave out the contracts paid
more than $500,000 for his daughter’s
wedding dress. Cashmeres of SI,OOO
each are not rare on Broadway. It is
estimated that there ate 10,000 women
in these two cities who have expended
on their personal array $4,000 a year!
What are men to do in order to keep
up such wardrobes? Steal—that is
the only respectable thing they can
do! During the last fifteen years there
have been innumerable fine businesses
shipwrecked on the wardrobe. The
temptation comes in this way: A man
thinks more of his family than of all
the w orld outside, and if they spend
the evening in describing to him the
superior wardrobe of the family across
the street, that they’ can not bear the
sight of, the man is thrown on his
gallantry and on his pride of family,
and, without translating his feelings
into plain language, he goes into ex
tortion and issuing of false stock, and
skillful penmanship in writing some
body’ else’s name at the foot of a
promissory note: and they all go down
together—the husband to the prison,
the w’ife to the sewing machine, the
children to be taken care of by those
who were called poor relations. O!
for some new Shakespeare to arise and
write the tragedy of human clothes.
Act the first of the tragedy.—A
plain but beautiful home. Enter, the
newly-married pair. Enter, simpli
city of manner and behavior. Enter,
as much happiness as is ever found in
one home.
Act the second—Discontent with
the humble home. Enter, envy.
Enter, jealousy. Enter, desire of dis
play.
Act the third. Enlargement of ex
penses. Enter all the. queenly dress
makers. Enter, the French milliners.
Act the fourth. —The tip-top of
society. Enter, princes and princesses
of high life. Enter, magnificent plate
and equipage. Enter, everything
splendid.
Act the fifth, and last. —Winding up
of the scene. Enter, the assignee.
Enter, the sheriff. Enter, the credi
tors. Enter, humiliation. Enter, the
wrath of (tod. Enter, the contempt of
society. Enter, death. Now, let the
silk curtain drop on the stage. The
farce is ended and the lights are out.
Will you forgive me if I say in
tersest shape possible that some of the
men have to forge and to perjure and
to swindle to pay for their wives’
dresses? I will say it, whether you
forgive me or not
Again, inordinate fashion is the
foe of all Christian alms-giving. Men
and women put so much in personal
display that they often have nothing
for God and the cause of suffering
humanity. A Christian man cracking
his Palais Royal glove across the back
by shutting up his hand to hide the
1 cent he puts into the poor-box! A
Christian woman, at the story of the
Hottentots, crying copious tears into
a handkerchief, and then giving a
2 cent piece to the collection, thrust
ing it down under the bills so people
will not know but it was a 810 gold
piece! One hundred dollars for in
cense to fashion; 2 cents for God.
God gives us 90 cents out of every dol
lar. The other 10 cents by command
of his Bible belong to him. Is not
God liberal according to this tithing
system laid down in the . Old Testa
men—is not God liberal in giving us
90 cents out of 81, when he takes but
ten? We do not like that We want
to have 99 cents for ourselves and 1
cent for God.
Now, 1 would a great deal rather
steal 10 cents from you than from God.
I think one reason why a great
many people do not get along in
worldly accumulation faster is be
cause they do not observe this divine
rule. God says: '■Well, if that man is
not satisfied with 90 cents of a dollar,
then I will take the whole dollar, and
1 will give it to the man or woman
who is honest with me.” The greatest
obstacle to charity in the Christian
church to-dav is the fact that men ex
; pend so much money on their table,
and women so much on their dress,
they have got nothing left for the work
of God and the world’s betterment
In my first settlement at Belleville.
N. J., the cause of missions was being
presented one Sabbath, and a plea for
the charity of the people was being
made, when an old Christian man in
the audience lost his balance, and
said right out in the midst of the ser
mon: “Mr. Talmage, how are we to
give liberally to these grand and
glorious causes when our families
dress as they do?” I did not answer
that question. It was the only time
in my life when I had nothing to say!
Insatiate fashion also belittles the
intellect Our minds are enlarged or
they dwindle just in proportion to the
importance of the subject on which
we constantly’ dwelt Can you imagine
anything more dwarfing to the human
intellect than the study of fashion?
I see men on the street who, judging
from their elaboration, I think must
have taken two hours to arrange their
apparel After a few years of that
kind of absorption, which one of Mc-
Allister’s magnifying glasses will be
powerful enough to make the man’s
character visible? They all land in
idiocy. 1 have seen men at the sum
mer watering-places, through fashion,
the mere wreck of what they once
were. Sallow of cheek. Meagre of
limb. Hollow at the chest. Showing
no animation save in rushing across a
room to pick up a lady’s fan. Simper
ing along the corridors, the same com
pliments they simpered twenty years
ago. A New York lawyer at United
States hotel, Saratoga, within our
hearing, rushed across a room to say
to a sensible woman, “You are as
sweet as peaches!” The fools of
fashion are myriad. Fashion notonly
destroys the body, but it makes idiotic
the intellect.
The most ghastly death bed son earth
are the one where a man dies of de
lirium tremens and the other where a
woman dies after having sacrificed all
her faculties of body, mind and soul
in the worship of fashion. My friends,
we must appear in judgment to
answer for what we have worn on our
bodies as well as for what repentances
we have exercised with our souls. On
that day I see coming in, Beau Brum
mel of the last century without his
cloak, like which all England got a
cloak, and without his cane like which
all England got a cane: without his
snuff box, like which all England got
a snuff box—he, the fop of ages, par
ticular about everything but his
morals; and Aaron Burr, without the
letters that down to old age he showed
in pride, to prove his early wicked gal
lantries; and Absalom without his
hair; and Marchioness Pompadour
without her titles; and Mrs. Arnold,
the belle of Wall street, when that
was the center of fashion, without her
fripperies of vesture.
And in great haggardness they shall
go away into eternal expatriation;
while among the queens of heavenly
society will be found Vashti, who
wore the modest veil before the pala
tial bacchanalians: and Hannah, who
annually made a little coat for Samuel
at the temple; and Grandmother Lois,
the ancestress of Timothy, who imitat
ed her virtue; and Mary, who gave
Jesus Christ to the world; and many
of yon, the wives and mothers and
sisters and daughters of the present
Christian church, who through great
tribulation are entering into the
kingdom of God. Christ announced
who w’ould make up the royal family
of heaven when he said. “Whosoever
doeth the will of God, the same is my
brother, my sister, my mother.”
AMUSING FRIVOLITIES.
Lady—How is this insect powder to
be applied? Assistant, absent-minded
—Give ’em a teaspoonful after each
meal, madam.
'•Dah ain’ much practical use,” said
Uncle Eben. “in de kind ob penitance
dat comes after a man’s done et de
chicken what he gathered the night
before.”
Hicks Look at Sniggs flirting
with the girls over there. I thought
you said he was a womon hater.
Wicks—So he is, but the woman he
hates is not here.
Visitor—Well, Tommy, do you think
you will ever be president of the
United States? Tommy —Oh, 1 don't
know. Mebbe I’ll try for it after 1
get too old to be a pitcher.
“Burglars robbed me last nigb‘ of
8250 worth of jewelry, but they didn't
get my cash.” “How was that?”
“The jewelry was in the burglag
proof safe, and my money was in my
wife’s pocket.”
“Can any little boy here,” asked
the visitor, “give me an example of
the expansion of subsfance by
heat?” “I can,” said Tommy. “Our
dog’s tongue is twicet as long now
as it vt'as last winter.”
“Dearest,” said she. “suppose a bull
should attack us as we are crossing
the pasture, what would you do?”
“That’s an awful queer question, Ma
bel. You forget 1 was the greatest
sprinter Yale ever had.”
“You seem to be in splendid health,”
said his friend. “I thought,you were
suffering from dyspepsia.” “Sol was,”
replied Swintles, “but I got hold of
the recipes my wife got at a fashion
able cooking school and burnt ’em.”
In one of the Glasgow schools a
young boy came himself for admit
tance. The head master asked his
name. The boy in reply said his
name was Jock. “But what is your
father's name?” “My fayther’s ca’ed
efter me.”
A gentleman who had been allured
by the announcement of a quiet coun
try hotel in the North of England
came down the morning after his
arrival complaining that his boots had
been outside his door all night and
until 8 o’clock that morning and no
body had touched them. The land
lord, who, in his shirt sleeves, was
tipped back in a chair, beamingly re
marked: “Law bless ye, sir, ye might
left yer purse out there all night; no
body would have touched it< Honest
folk down here, I tell ye.”
“And you say he has a title,” said the
little girl.
“Yes.’’ replied the plump one.
“And very rich?”
“Yes.”
“And unmarried?”
“Yes.”
“Dear me! I wonder how many days be
has been a widower.”
“Mrs. Robinson has the reputation of
being very stingy.”
“I should say report belies her, then.”
“You think so?”
“Think so? Why, she presented her hus
band with twins the other day.”
What an agreeable one, too, is expe
rienced by the hitherto misguided individ
ual who has been ceaselessly but vainly
dosing for years past in the futile hope of
curing constipation, when drastic pills and
potions are abandoned for Hostetter’s
Btomach Bitters, a faithful auxiliary of
nature, which does its work without grip
ing or weakening, but always effectually.
“Throw physic to the dogs I” and use this
benign and thorough laxative, which
achieves results wnich astonish as well as
gratify those who use it. Not only a reg
ular habit of body, but complete digestion
and assimilation are restored by its use.
It regulates the liver and kidneys, and
counteracts a tendency to rheumatism.
In no case where it is possible to procure it
should its use be delayed. Fortify with it
against malaria.
All heaven listens when we send up a
heartfelt prayer for an enemy’s good.
"A <Jup of Parka’ Ten at night moves
the bowels in the morning.”
M any a man is living an honest life who
wou Idn’t if the jail were farther off.
>- Hanson's Magic corn Halve.”
Warranted to cure or money refunded. Ask your
iruggUt lor it. Price 15 cents.
The man who gives his child to tne street
will give the world a thief.
Weak All Over
Hot weather always has a weakening, debili
tating effect, especially when the blood is thin
and impure and the system poorly nourished.
Hood’s Ba ™-
Ji. -®- %%%%%% pa villa.
parllla strength will be
imparted and ttie whole
body invigorated. People
who take Hood's Sarsaparilla are almost always
surprised at the wonderful beneficial effects.
FREE!'
THIO I/KIIEC I FiueSteel. Keen as a razor.
inlolXnlrL! Good, strong handle.
Mailed free in exchange for 25 Large Lion Heads cut
from Lion Coffee Wrappers, and a 2-cent stamp to
nay postage. Write for list of our other fine Pre.
miums. WOOLSON SPICE CO..
450 Huron St., Toledo, O.
a gfflb ii W -I ‘li h USgßj
Davis Inter
national Cream
Separator,
Hand or Power.
Every fanner
that has cows
should have
one. It saves
half the labor,
makes on e
third more but
ter. Separator
Butter brings
one-third more
money. Send
for circulars.
Davis & Rankin Bldg. & Mfg. Co.
Agents Wanted. Chicago, 111.
Pt. Band,
Iron Hoop
OAK BASKET.
A Basket You Can Watex - Your Horses With. Costs
no More Than Any Other Kinds, but Will
TOURIST TRAVEL
To COLORADO RESORTS
Will set In early this year, and the Great Rook
Island Route has already ample and perfect ar
rangement. to transport the many who will take in
the lovely cool of Colorado’s
HIGH ALTITUDES.
The Track Is perfect. and double over Important
Divisions. Train Equipment the very beet, ard a solid
Vestibuled Train called the BIC FIVE leaves Chicafro
daily at 10 p. m. and arrives second morning at Denver
or Colorado Springe for breakfast.
Any Coupon Ticket Agent oan rive you rates, and
further Information w ill be cheerfully and quickly re
sponded to by addressing JNO SEBASTIAN.
General Passenger Agent, Chicago.
DROPSY
Positively Cured with Vegetable Remedies
Have cured thousands of cnees. Cure cases pro -
nounced hopeless by best physicians. From first doso
symptoms disappear: in ten days at least two-thirds
all symptoms removed. Send for free book testimo
nials of miraculous cures. Ten days' treatment
freebymntl. If you order trial send 10c In stamps
to pay postage. Db.H.H.Gkeen & Sons, Atlanta,Gn.
If you order trial return this advertisement to ns.
AA K? l\l WAXTKIi to sell hardy Nursery stock
, , , " ur °" rn growing; we pay salary or com.
mission. Address with references, L. G. BKAGU & CO
Proprs. Union Nurseries, Kalamazoo, Mich.
-WHN W.MOHRIS,
I&IVOIUIU Waskington, D. C.
PSuccessfully Prosecutes Claims.
Late Principal Examiner U.S. Pension Bureau.
3yrs in last war, 15 adjudicating claims, atty eixice.
ALL ELSEF AILS-
ISg Best Cough Syrup. Tastes Good. Use
pa In time. Sold by druggists. IM
CREAM BALM
?{price 50CENTS, ALL
Billiard and Pool Tabla., CAI OflN
Bar Glass war.. B«nd for QALUVn
••talog'io. Gat* Glty |
Billiard Table Co. Omaha FIXTURES
That Matters Not.
Nothing Stingy About Her.
Oh, What a Surprise!
Hood’S Pills are safe, harmless, sure.
ANYTHING,
TREATED FREE.