AH O O
What did she give for her wedding-ring:?
v| Ail thai a woman may!
j*, Whan did the gifts to the giver bring?
,*n' Only an idol of clay.
All the sweet dreams of her girlhood
All that a heart coufld hold:
All of her hopes and all of her fears
All of her smiles and all of her tears.
., For one little circle of gold.
Told she the world of the bfltter cheat?
Ah, no! With a smiling face
She clothed her idol from heaid to feet
With "the garments of her grace.
And no one knew of the tears she wept
Her griefs they were never guessed,
iPor hid in her heart of hearts she kept
-Her thorns of woe. And so she slept
With her hands across her breast.
—Nixon Waterman, in L. A. W. Bulletin.
[Copyright, 1895. by D. Appleton & Co.
AH rights reserved.}
Walking down the Via San Domirivo, 1
"turned to the right by the Borgo di San
Tito, and here I was recognized and hooted.
Pressing hurriedly forwards, and aided op
portunely by the passage of la body of men
at arms, coming through the street in a di
rection opposite to that of my followers, I
•succeeded in shaking off my tormentors,
-and turning again to the right up a narrow
street, entered a barber's, shop to have my
beard' removed in order, to disguise myself
as far as possible. The barber, a fussy little
fellow, placed before me a mirror of polished
steel, and as he set to work stropping a
razor on the palm of his hand, I removed
my cap, and for the first time observed that
the hair of my head was thickly streaked
"Your excellency has doubtless come to
join the army," said the barber, in a tone
of inquiry, as he drew his razor across my
"Ah, yes, yes I have just come,'* I replied,
and the little man went on:
"There have been great doings to-day.
'Tis said the duke has ordered the Count di
Savelli to be executed for having in his pos
session a favor of madame. They say the
xunt stole it, but we know better, don't
we, your excellency?" and the little fool
chuckled to himself. He went on without
waiting for an answer. ¥Ah, yes the ladies
an never resist us soldiers. I may tell you
that I served with Don Carlo Bagiioni, and
can bear my pike—there now, I think that
side is clean shaven—as I was saying before,
it was hard on the Marquis di Savelli, a gal
lant noble whom I frequently saw—pardon,
.your excellency, it is but a scratch after all
—had you not moved so suddenly, still only
•at scratch, nothing for a soldier. The Mar
-quia di Savelli, as I said, was a regular cus
tomer of mine, and he had a lovely head of
3iair, your excellency. It was not so much
before I took him in hand. Ecco! but in a
month you should have seen! He came in
here in his free, easy way, and flung me ten
crowns. 'Buy a ribbon for Madonna Giulia
with that, Messer Pazzi/ says he 'and
harkee, send me over six more bottles of
your elixir of St. Symmachus. Maldetto!'
he exclaimed, twisting his curls between his
^fingers,.'but she adores me now No
'who, say, could she have been but—tchicK?
Diavolo? it is done never a cleaner shave in
/Home itself. If your excellency's fortune
grows as well as your hair, I could wish you
?no better luck."
I rose in silence, and, flinging him a crown,
him pay himself, and, receiving my
change, hurried out, declining all Messer
Pazzi's entreaties to bear with me a bottle of
"his precious elixir of St. Symmachus or any
other accursed balsam. I saw at a glance
that the removal of my beard caused a con
siderable alteration in my appearance, and
imagined if I could but change my attire my
most intimate friends would not know me
*«nle§st they observed closely and even then
might perhaps fail to recognize me. This
view, as it turned out, was not quite cor
rect, and I had yet to learn how difficult a
thing it is to arrange a complete disguise.
A few doors further on I laid out some of
my money in the purchase of a stout leather
buff coat, a long, dark mantle, and a cap to
match. The cap was ornamented with a
single black feather and when I had donned
these garments I felt that, wrapped in the
cloak, with the cap pulled well over my eyes,.
and the feather standing defiantly out to the
.-side, I wanted but a fathom of sword
to make myself as ruffianly-looking a bravo
ever trod the purlieus of Naples or Rome.
But the sword was some, difficulty, for my
crowns had dwindled to 16. Fortunately I
had'oh my finger a sapphire ring, and this I
/pledged for 20 crowns, and made my way to
tho armorer's. I there selected a strong,
-straight weapon, with a plain cross handle
and a cutting blade, such as would be useful
for rough work, and, after some haggling,
got it for ten pieces. The armorer assured
roe that it was a sound blade, and I may say
it did me good service. It now. hangs in my
^bedchamber, a little chipped, it is true, but
as bright and as fit for use as the day I paid
/for it, with a heavy heart, in Don Piero's
tahop, near the gate of St. Lawrence in
I began now to feel the want of food, for
beyond the cup of Chianti brought to me
by the under officer I had tasted nothing
since yesterday evening, and therefore step
ping into an ordinary called for a flagon of
wine and a pasty. Whilst engaged in as
saulting these, half a dozen men, whom I
a*ecognized as belonging to the garrison, en
=tere4 the hostel, but to my joy I saw I was
not known to them, and after a casual glance
-AI me they fell to eating their meal.
I was, however, perforce compelled to lis
ten to their conversation, which was carried
on in the loud tone men of theirtdass affect,
•and found to my annoyance that they were
discussing me, and the events of the day.
In order to escape this I was about to rise,
when I heard one of them mention D'En
~trangues' name, and stopped tojhijtcn.
"He has left for Florence, ana, it is said,
intends to offer his sword to the»Signory,"
*said one. ""U
"And the other?"1 JL./JQ
"Heaven knows!' Perhaps-Braccio's arm
ihas reached him, poor-devil!"
''Well, he was a good soldier and a stout
"Basta!" said the first speaker. ."What
does a little lightness of finger matter?
f.i^Flay-it in a small way, you're a thief, and
te food for Messer Braccio, curse him! Play
j^i&iit ojL,.a,big. scale and you're,a prince. I for
one don't think |heless of Di SavelhVbecause
periapl 'his hand aClards was always too.
good^aW he in the
mat&r of the. m^a^^^^M^man it scime-.
a it I jr a
tleiitian once and ooght to KpoW$rI give you
,,.ja to^Bt-r Here's to a" long sword and a light
*lHte»tyRp $» 4*3
set to a* dicing. I had, however, heard
enough, and settling* my account with the
host, .stepped forth into the street, intend*
•ng to depart from the town by the Porta
San Spirito or Roman gate, leaving the
c-amp over my shoulder, and to make my way
to Florence as soon as possible. There I
would meet D'Entrangues, and kill him like
a mad dog." I ground my teeth with rage
when I thought I had no horse, nor even
the means to purchase one, and must trudge
it like any cdntadino. But, if I had to crawl
on my hands and knees, 1 was determined to
reach Florence and D'Entrangues.
It was, however, not yet sundown, and my
idea was to leave the city when it was well
dusk to avoid all possible chance of recogni
tion. I meant to have passed the interval
in the inn but, as I felt this was impos
sible, it was- necessary to find another spot
where I could lay in quiet. With this end
iu view I crossed the Piazza di Popoio in an
easterly direction, and went on until I
came to the, Franciscan church, into which
I entered, not, I am sorry to say, with any
desire for devotion, but merely because I
was less likely to be disturbed there than
anywhere else I could imagine. I was right,
in so far that on entering the church I found
it, as I thought, empty, but on looking round
I saw beneath the newly-completed wheel
window, the work of Guillaume de Mar
seille, a kneeling figure, apparently absorbed
in prayer. I had approached quite close be
fore I became aware that 1 was not alone,
and was about to turn away, when, perhaps
startled by the sound of my footfalls on the
marble pavement, the person rose hurriedly
and looked towards me. It was Mme. D'En
trangues. Her glance met mine for a sec
ond as that of a stranger, but as I was mov
ing away some trick of gesture, or perhaps
the hot anger in my eyes, told her who I was,
for, calling my name, she came towards me
with outstretched hands.
"Di Savelli," she said, for I made no ad
vance, "do you not know me?"
"Madame," I bowed, "I am unfit to touch
"No, no—a thousand times no! It is I
who am unworthy."
I st 11 remained silent, and she
vith a passionate emphasis:
"Man, you have never sinned?"
The words struck me like a shot. I felt
in a moment I had no right to stand in
"God knows," I replied, "I have, and I
have been punished."
With that she took hold of my hand, and
then suddenly burst into tears, weeping
over me with words I cannot repeat. It was
not for me to fling reproaches, and I softened
and did what I could to appease her.
"1 could not help it," she said "I was not
strong enough to speak or to let you speak.
Oh, you do not know what such a thing is to
"Let it pass, madame. What is dead is
"I cannot. And yet, what can I do?" Her
tears began afresh.
In a little time she grew better, and I
seized the opportunity to point out the dan
ger she ran of being seen speaking to me,
and suggested that she should make her way
home, ^.t was impossible to escort her my
self, bu£ would I walk a little way behind,
keep her in sight, and see she came to no
harm. I urged this all the more as I saw it
was growing late, and that she was without
any attendants and far from the camp.
"You mistake," she said "I have not far
to go. In fact, I am at present the guest
of the convent here."
"And—" I did not finish the sentence,
but she understood. I had forced myself to
ask, to hear, if possible, confirmation of
"He," she answered—"he has left the
army and gone towards Florence."
"I stay here for the present,"
Her tone more than her words convinced
me that she had been abandoned by D'En
trangues, and it added another mark to my
score against him.
"Why should I not tell you?" she con
tinued. "After, when it was all over, the
duke struck his name off the army, and he
left in an hour. Before he went, he came
and told me all, laughing at your ruin. I did
not know man could be so vile! God help me
—it is my husband I speak of! Heoffered
to take me with him, but I refused and he
left, mocking like a devil, with words I can
not repeat. He was not done with you or
with me, he said, as he went. I came here
at once, and perhaps when Mme. de la Tre
mouille returns to France I shall be enabled
to go with her in her train."
"Excuse my asking it," I said, "but have
"Oh, yes," she smiled, sadly, "it is not that
in any way."
At this moment I looked up and saw that
it was sunset. Through the wheel window
the orange beams streamed in along banner,
and lit up the figure of the saint above us.
The rays fell on madame's pale face, and
touched with fire the gold of her hair. W
stood before each other in a dead silence.
"Good-by," I said, extending my hand.
She placed her own in it and our eyes met.
It was a moment of danger to both. Leper
as I was, I had but to lift my hand, but to
say a word, .and here was one who would
have followed me like a dog. I felt her
weakness in her look, in the touch of her
hand, Which shivered as it lay in mine like a
captive bird. A once a fire leapt up within
m£. I had lost-^everything. Wh not
throw revenge after my losses, and with her
by. my side seek a new fortune with a new
name? The Grand Turk needed soldiers,
and what mattered it whether it was cross
or crescent that I served?
But the woman became strong as I grew
£Go!" she said, faintly.
I dropped her hand, and, turning without
a word, strode down the aisle. As I reached
the church door the bells of the Angelus
rang out, and yielding to a sudden impulse
I looked back.
Madame was on her knees before the saint.
A FOOL'S CAP AN A SORE HEART.
was not so dense as to fail to grasp the
extent of the peril I had escaped, or to fully
realize the evil strength of the temptation,
which came upon me as suddenly as a sneeze.
It is fare in matter&of this kind for wicked
thoughts to be.of slow growth they spring
at once to life, full-armed. I thanked God
in my heart that' I was able to sweep aside
the base desire, which covered my soul like
a black cloud, and refrained from taking ad
vantage of madame's momentary weakness.
I could not but see I was to blame myself.
i, the elder and the stronger, should have
foreseen the probable consequences of a
friendship such as ours, and my sorrow for
he^r was mixed with the deepest regret for
myvjMtrt hrth transaction.\J banished all
idfea of attacking D'Entrangues through his
w|fe, wandering at the littleness,of spirit
wjiich had: ever conceived such a thought.
Is it were possible, I would have kicked my
self. Perhaps such victory as 1 gained over
tny heart was due to the secret springs of
.vanity'being' touched, to the fear of the
loss .of my self^respect, and this, mingling
with my pity and, regret,, gave .me the
strength to win at, the moment, of tempta
tion. I is difficult to tell have lived long
enough in the world to know: that the mys
teries the heart will remain, veiled ±0 the
end. Occasionally we may lift the ft
-a little, but more no man. has done, ^f...
What happened, however, explained clear*
ly to me the motive for D'Entrangues' con
duct. He, at any rate, must have seen long
before either of ua, how affairs stood with
the wife whose life he embittered but he
made no effort to save her, contenting him
self with striking an assassin's blow, which
had taken from him the last shred of re
spect madame may have felt for him, and
which had in part recoiled on his own head.
Be this us it may, his stroke was successful,
in that to all intents and purposes it had
utterly blasted me. I was worse than dead.
It was no ordinary revenge. In those
troublous times, a blow from a dagger could
have easily rid him from a wife of whom
he was sick, or a man whom he hated, and
no one would have thrown the matter in his
teeth. But with devilish cruelty, he in
flicted wounds which could never heal, and
left his victims to live. It was impossible to
hit such a man back, in a way to make him
feel to the utmost extent the agony he had
administered the only thing was to take
from him his worthless life this he doubt
less valued most of all things, and I meant
to deprive him of itj if be stood at the altar
of Christ. Moved by such thoughts, and
with my cloak drawn well over the lower
part of my face,vJL hastened towards the
Roman gate, reaching it just as it was to be
closed for the night. In fact, as I passed
out, the huge doors came together behind me
with a groaning, and at the same time I
heard the dull boom of the evening gun
from the camp, followed immediately by the
distant peals of the trumpets of the cavalry
As the crow flies, Florence was but a few
leagues distant but I obviously would have
to journey by side paths, over hill and
across valley to avoid observation, and this
would occupy at least two days, unless my
travels were permanently stopped by my
being cut off by a privateering party from
the camp, or by any other untoward acci
dent. Neither contingency was unlikely,
for the writ of the king ran barely a league
from the army, and the country was full of
In this mind I pressed on, intending to
lie at Bucine for the night, or, if no better
accommodation offered, to sleep as a. sol
dier should, wrapped in my cloak, with the
sky for a roof. As I went oti, I found I yas
relying a little too much on my knowledge
of the road, and a blue mist, which rose
from the ground, made it impossible to pick
my way by landmarks. The moon, come
out by this time, shone fitfully through the
bank of clouds, which was shifting uneasily
overhead, and the wind, rising steadily,
marked rain. I stirred myself all the faster,
for I was in no mind to add a wetting to my
misfortunes, and a drop or two of rain that
caught me showed I had but little leisure to
lose. I made out a narrow cattle track, and
'I waa not strong enough to speak or let you
hurried along this but before I covered a
mile the moon was obscured, and the wind
dropped. It now began to rain, and the
darkness was so thick, that 1 could only
just follow the road. Soon the track died
away into nothing, and I found myself floun
dering, over my ankles in mud, and up to
the waist in wet rushes. A any moment I
might strike a quicksand, with which these
marshes abound, so I used my sword as a
search-pole, stepping only where I found
foothold, a dozen inches or so below the
surface of the bog. In this perplexity, im
agine my relief to see the blaze of a fire
shoot up beyond a small rising ground before
me, and throw an arc of light into the dark
ness, against which the falling rain glittered
like fine wires of silver. I shouted aloud
and to my joy got an answer.
"Who is there? What is the matter?"
"A traveler," I replied, "who has lost his
way in this cursed swamp. Whoever you
are, you will make a friend and find a re
ward if you leaa me out of this."
"Come straight on, there is no danger be
yond getting your feet wet."
"They are that already," I answered, and
pressed on, having absolutely to force my
way through the wet rushes, which wound
themselves around me impeding my progress
terribly. Moreover, so sticky was the slime
below that I thought every moment it would
pull the boots off my feet. Struggling in
this manner for a hundred yards or more,
guided by the fire, and an occasional shout
from my unknown friend, I at last touched
hard ground, and with a "Thank heaven!"
got out of the swamp, and found myself at
the foot of the hillock, behind which the'
fire was blazing.
"Which way to Bucine?" I called out.
"Are you out of the swamp?"
"Then come round the shoulder of the
hill to your right, and follow your nose.
You will find shelter here. Bucine you could
never reach to-night, and a dog should not
be out in this weather."
"True, friend," I muttered, and with a
loud-"thanks" to the apparently hospitable
unknown, I followed his directions, and,
rounding the hillock, saw before me, splut
tering in the rain, a huge fire of pine logs,
at the entrance to a hut of the rudest de
scription. Inside, I perceived a sitting fig
ure, over which the light from the fire alter
nately cast a glare and then left it in dark
ness1. I made my way to the open door,
which hung back on hinges, of rope, and en
tered without further ceremony. -,\J4£J&
"Humph!" snorted my host, without mov
ing from his position. "I said it was no
night for a dog to be out, I did not say any
thing of a wolf."
This change of tone was not so surpris-,
ing, for, dripping wet, covered with mud
and .white with fatigue, my general appear
ance^was but little, calculated to reassure
anyone. Yet, as I hung my cloak on 'a
rougli wooden peg which caught my eye, I
could not help laughing in mockery as I an
swered: ,, 'uji
.?*W,oIvea, friend, come to wolves' lairs.*?
-took no notice of my remark but
pointing' 16 a heap of rushes "opposite "fo
him, said: "Sit ddwiftKere.**?«ethen rose,)
and wen^Sbwardi thefi^ewith an unlit torch
in. his band. This gave me some opportunity
of observing him., 1 saw- he was of spare,
but elastic figure. His head waa bare, and
hi white hair hung in matted locks
leatineck to hit ftonlde^^s"dresVwT
fantasticand entirely out of place to h^
surroundings. It consisted of a tight-fittin
jerkin of parti-colored velvet, with puffm.
breeches to match, pulled over thick black
hose. On his feet were the ordinary sau
dais of the peasantry, and, as he stopped U.
light the torch wood, I saw his face was
seamed with wrinkles, and that his lips
moved rapidly, as if he was speaking, at
though no sound issued from them. He did
not delay about his business but hastened
in, and, sticking a torch in a hole in the
floor between us, resumed his seat, and said,
"Let me look at you?"
Apparently his scrutiny was satisfactory,
and 1 did nothing to interrupt him.
"No. All that 1 ask is to be allowed to
rest here till to-morrow."
"That is well, for I have no food to offer
you but here is some wine in this skin."
He reached to a corner and pulled out a
small wine skin. This he placed before me
with the single word "drink."
"No, thanks." The whole manner and as
pect of the man were so peculiar, that, al
though 1, was much fatigued, I judged it
prudent to decline. His quick eye seemed
to read my thoughts, for he laughed a little
bitterly as he said:
"Tush, man! There is no fear. You bear
too long a sword to have a purse worth tho
picking, and you are not supping/' a I00L
of hate passed over his features as
dropped out slowly, "with the Borgia. See,
I. will give you a toast—Revenge." He took
a pull at the skin and flung it to me.
"I drink to that," I said, tasting the wine
in my turn. Here then was another who,
like me, sought for consolation in ven
[TO BE CONTINUED.]
HONOR ABOVE GOLD.
A Strikin Incident Wlilcn Aptly
lustratett the Frenc
Well, just after the downfall of the
'Commune, Mr. Levy as intrusted with
one of the most delicate and I might
say terrible missions in his life. There
were several communist refugees in
Speaking of French politics. I heard
a most extraordinary story of another
strange secret of contemporary life.
Some years ago one might see in a res
taurant at night, playing dominos
quietly or conversing in tranquil tones.
a gentleman named Levy. He was a
man who knew more of the secret his
tory of the courts of Europe than any
man of his time. get a full account
of his personality and history you must
spend an evening with *'Joe" Lyons, the
owner of the Trocadero and a score of
other restaurants, one of the most bril
liant reconteurs as well as one of the
best fellows in all London. Mr. Levy
was a private detective, employed when
ever a task of extreme delicacy and
enormous importance was on hand.
was retained by the Bank of Eng
land, among other institutions, and I
have heard that his services were es
teemed so valuable that he the mag
nificent 'salary of £10,000 a year from
London. Levy trackedi them out. A
an of his word, without enthusiasm,
acquainted with all the seamy side of
life and of men, he yet had a broad, sym
pathetic imagination and he was ns
tounded by he picture he found the
miserable den—if I remember rightly
it as a stable—in which he discovered
the objects of his search. These men,
but a few weeks before had the
government and the revenues of the
great city of Paris at their command,
•were engaged in making a wretched
bowl of soup, which was to be the one
meal—and the one meal of them all—
for 24 hours. No ton penny had stuck
to their palms of all the millions that
were at their mercy! "These men m*
madmen,** he said to a friend io
he told the story, "but, according
to their lights, they are patriots!**
His wonder grew as they refused
scornfully to surrender some papers
which had fallen into their possession,
in spite of dazzling offers of gold, which,
as agent of the French government, Tie
was authorized to offer them. Thrry
the horror and the terrible and
appalling importance of the domesfSc
secret in the life of a great man of whfoh
they held proofs, but decided to
keep the proofs until they thought it
right or wrong to publish the story To
the world. And, though they refusnd
the gold, they never told the secret, arid
France and Europe were saved one est
the most cruel and devastating scan
dals Of our times.—N. Y. Herald.
"Why the W Ont.
I front of the high altar in the ca
thedral at Salzburg there is a great
lamp at is supposed to burn "forever
and a day." One morning, years ago
worshipers were surprised to see it go
out, and this as repeated) morning
after morning, always about the same
time. I was thought the attendant
had neglected to give it sufficient oil,
and though he declared his innocence
he was told that he would be discharged
if the oversight were repeated. Unwil
ling to deal unjustly with the man. the
dean of the cathedral hid himself one
night to see if he could solve the mys
tery. had' not long to wait. About
ten o'clock a big rat as seen descend
in the rope by which the lamp as
suspended.' Having reached the oil.
it fed freely and then away by the
a it came. Needless is it to say that
the attendant held his place.—Detroit
A Sharp Retort.
It was after the publication of the
"Lives of the Poets** that Dr. Farr, be
in engaged to dine with Sir Joshua
Reynolds, mentioned that on his way
there he had seen a clever caricature of
Dr. Johnson being flogged around
Parnassus by the nine muses. The ad
mirers of Gray and others*,w thought
their favorites harshly treated in the,
"Lives," were lai|ghing at Farr's ac
count, when Dr. 'Johnson a an
r.otinced. Sdr Joshua introduced Dr.
Farr. and to his infinite embarrassment
repeated the story. Johnso turned to
Farr and said: "Sh*. I am very glad to)
hear this. I ho^4n* day '^r never ar
rive'when T'shall neither be^theobjeet'
of ridfcule nor calumny, for then I shall
byneglected and a a
05E VASTHrlEAT FIE£ft
Prince Albert, Saak., Aug. 17,1898.
William McCreary. Esq.. Immigration
Commissioner, Winnipeg*, Man.: -,
Sir: We he undersigned delegates
from Kansa and Nebraska, S. A.,
in reporting the results of our trip to
Dauphin, and subsequently to Megina,
Prince Albert and the middle Saskatch
ewa country, beg to say that our tick
et were limited to 21 days, and as we
had other large regions to visit, we could
on'ly spend a short time in the Dauphin
country. W examined, however, the
principal cultivated areas in the south
ern part of township 25, range 19—the
great wheat fields of Wishart, Bu
chanan, Owen, Smith, Boss, Sinclair, the
Whitniores, Drinkwaters, etc., and, sub
sequently others to the north, and never,
in our experience,, have we seen finer
grain. he country is watered
by numerous streams flowing from,
the slopes of Biding Mountain, and ex
cellent well water is found everywhere,
at from 9 to 18 feet. Extensive for
ests of spruce and tamarack cover the
northern parts of the mountains from,
which timber is manufactured in Dau
phin and elsewhere, and sold at from
$12 a thousand at the mills. Wild hops
and wild fruits are abundant, and ripen
in the open air. Vegetation through
out is surprisingly luxuriant, and, with
out hesitation, we would rank the whole
region amongst the best grain-growing
areas of the continent. Th output of
at last year as about 75,000 bush
els, but this year it is estimated at over
Westward lie the homestead lands
which now, and fresh surveys are
completed, will afford comfortable
nomas to thousands ot diligent fam
ilies. Th great Gilbert Plains, also,
we were unable to visit, where grain
growing has been conducted with the
best results for years, and which will
become a vast wheat field as soon as a
branch railway reaches there. Settle
ment is speeding in all these regions,
reminding us indeed of the early days
in our States and, as we have exam
ined, since our visit to Dauphin, a por
tion of the great country lying south
and east of Prince Albert, we can read
ily imagine the tide of immigration
which will soon, flow into the Canadian
(Signed) GEORGE S. BENNETT,
Hall's Summit, Kan.
B. W. BENNETT,
Hall's Summit, Kan.
E. P. BROOKS,
In Wo Danarer.
^McGonigle—The candidate's voice has
Heeler—Well, he can still sign checks,
can't he?—Philadelphia North American.
"Every morning I have
bad taste in my mouth my
tongue is coated my head
aches and I often feel dizzy.
I have no appetite for breakfast
and what food I eat distresses
me. I have a heavy feeling in
my stomach. I am getting so
weak that sometimes I tremble
and my nerves are all unstrung.
I am getting pale and thin. I
am as tired in the morning as
What does your doctor say?
"You are suffering from im
What is his remedy?
MOOS of UNSOLICITED TESTIMONIALS SAY
T. HILL MANSF.IELDS $
A I A S
rwashooard :no woaron
ting. Write for
The first step in Spring
should be to cleanse Nature's
house from Winter's accumu
lations. Hood's Sarsaparitta
does this work easily* is
America's Greatest Spring
Medicine. It purifies the blood,
as miltons of people say*
I makes the weak strong, as nervous
'men and women gladly testify. I
cares all blood diseases, as thousands
of cared voluntarily write. I is just the
medicine for you, as you will gladly say
tite you have given it a fair trial.
ad BlOOd-" Although past 70years of
age I am thoroughly well. It was three
bottles of Hood's Sarsaparilla that made
me so after spending over $60 in medical
attendance. My trouble was a raw sore on
my ankle." MBS LOUISA MASOK, Court
Street, Lowell, Mass.
in S After worrying tour
months I gave my children Hood's Sarsa-
irill and it cured them of running sores,
Pills cured me of dyspepsia and
constipation." MBS KATE THOMAS, 31
Governor St., Annapolis, Md.
iv Five years
ago I had a consumptive cough which re
duced me to a skeleton. Was advised to
take Hood's Sarsaparilla which I did and
recovered normal health. I have been well
ever since." MATILDA BBIDQEWATKB, Cor.
Pearl and Chestnut Sts., Jefiersonville, Ind.
Hood's Pills cure Hrer ills, the non-irritating and
the only cathartic to take with Hood's Sarsaparilla.
"Spalding." Accept no
'Handsome Catalogue Free.
A. O. SPALDING & BROS.
New York. Chicago. Denver.
Send your address on a postal and S
$ we will send you our 158 page illus
Jj trated catalogue free. 2
WINCHESTER REPEATING ARMS CO.,
j£ ISO Winchester Ave., HEW HAVE*, COBwM
In the Great Grain and
Grazing Belts of West
ern Canada and infor
mation as to how to se
cure them can be had
on application to the
Deparment of the In
terior, Ottawa, Canada,
..»-,.- -or to BEN. DAVIES,
154 East Third Street, St. Paul, Minn. W.
RITCHIE, Grafton, N. D. T. a CURRIE.
Stevens Point, Wis.
And good enough for'you. There is more of
Carter's Ink used by the U. S. Government than
of all other makes put together. It costs you no
more than the poorest—ask for it.
Funnybooklet"How to Make Ink Pictures "free.
CARTER'S INK CO., Boston, Mass.
.s Salt Rbenm. Bo-
Permanently cores all Itching,
Bealpand8kin Diseases, such as
fema, Seald Hiad. Chilblains. Piles. Burns. Baby
Hnmors. DancL-aff. ltohiiur Scalp Falling Hair
(tblokenlns and making itSoft, Stay, and fiwwfo
SBt)..M^RSBSraPt!911* (producinga Soft.Clear,
Beantlfal Skin and Complexion). It eontalna'tfe
Lead. Sulphur. Cantharides or anything injurious.
We give Best t»ATost Seed* C1MC
for the money in America. OH
We give large 5 pkte. for 8
By os. and lb. Cheap. Handsom*
Market Gardeners ask 11011CV
WhoUsaU Price I4»t HUN CI
50ct«. ofdruggistsor R.P.HaU&Co.,Nathus,N.H.
We arelivingawqj watcaei,earner*!, solid told
lings, sporting goods, musical instruments* many'
ptttrTaluablepremiums to boysandgirUforsell.
tag ISpackagesoTKeyed EagUah Ink Powder atlOeeack.
sWsrypseksgs makes Me worth ot fine ink. We asknomoney—
•sad your name and address, and we will forwaid yea 18 peek
ages wjth premium listand fall inssraetions. wnenyoeseUthe
jMj*Mlewder- send the moneyto as and select your premium.
«!j?*» Wetwietyew. Don't lose this grand
portunlty. Write for the outfit today. Address all orders ta
Ink Ceacera* a* Adaau Oak
United State8c. Man.LU,Park
A copy ot onrhandsome'map, 48138
IncheaY printed in tour colors and
mounted on a roller, will be sent to
T- »ny address on receipt ot 13 ceata
mcoin, postal orexpressmoney order. We cannot
well usetpostage stamps. GEO. P. LYMAN, Gen
eral Passenger Agent B. 4 N. R. &..SC Paul,
the First Step
tm baa^elftfTAU steel, lOe gold and stee
MU^ •^'dj^tffene^d.back.also ealtandlap
_oin in nuue. S A rnifr ••.
__eh Order a'—--,-*,_,
J4M4KS THK JJSWIXKIt. MSatf fiaCT.,MWTOa£
iffitprtTHLY, Ban Franei800,Cal.
TOILET OtUntl FREE
Address, wit* staaam,
O S Y^WDI5C0vroY'tf™.IB,CUeage,«4»i*B
5!r »"*c 5\»*9T' SWdekrelief andcureswont
eases. Boo of
•peat Free. ,88* H. M,m
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