The pioneer press., February 11, 1904, Image 2

About The pioneer press. (Miller, Hand County, S.D.) 1893-190?

Image provided by: South Dakota State Historical Society – State Archives

                
CHAPTER XXXVll—Continued.
“We did no such thing. How could
we drag our name through the public
courts, and have it mud-splashed and
tarnished, because of a man who was
nothing to us? How could we tear up
the grave we had so carefully clodded
for a chivalrous impulse —u mere
Quixotic resolution? Besides, we were
smart enough, or bright enough, to
cope with him. Young as he was, he
could baffle us and beat us with our
own weai>on?. To be brief, in consid
eration of a certain sum of money, ho
went away, and for years we lost sight
of hi . ♦<* bo o»n ot jjovor. yours,
“My husband had come into my
room —this very room—to consult me
about some matter of importance,
when suddenly the door was flung
open and he walked in. However he
managed to enter the house and ream
our room unobserved by the servants
f never knew, but each he apparently
did. He was looking old end seedy
and dissipated. There was the strang
est look in his face I had ever seen on
any human, countenance. He seemed
to enter the place as a matter of
course and with the air of one wdio
bad met us only yestorday.
“ ‘How dare you come here In this
state?’ my husband cried. ‘You are
drunk, sir!'
“But he did not appear to hear or
bwed the words. Ik* sat down and
burst out laughing, as he had done that
other night in the library.
" ‘You remember that fellow I told
you about,’ he said—‘Laurence Lisle?
IWell, he’s clear of Toulon. He has a
wife and youngster, too. I found out
be had told her nothing alxrut the
three years spent at Toulon, as a
guest of the French government, so 1
thought I would enlighten her. I wrote
the story of the theft, arrest and Im
prisonment out in full, signed my
name and sent It to her. Oh,’ and ho
laughed again gleefully, and rubbed
bis hands, ‘it was a grand Joke on Lau
rence!* .
“ ‘When did that happen?’ I asked.
He put his hand to his head, in con
fused recollection.
M ‘lt was a few days ago, a few
weeks ago, or a few years ago,’ he an
chored, gravely.
“A dim suspicion of the truth began
to break on us.
“He got up and commenced walking
on tlptono around the room, peering
•very where.
“ ‘I want him.’ he said, ‘the lad who
fills my place at Blackcastle. I have
■tood this quite long enough. 1 atn
going to kill him and assert my
rights!*
“I laid my hand on the bellropo, but
paused as he npoke:
** 'Don’t ring! I’ll turn your precious
eon out sooner than you dream, If you
don’t take care! Oh, this is no Idle
threat! I’ve been to France, and have
brought from there copies of the cer
tificate of my mother's marriage and
of my birth. I dug a hole In the park
*nd hid them there. Where can he
be?’
“He was taking up little ornaments,
and statuettes, and toilet articles, and
iwa* looking under them for Clive.
“My husband looked at me, and 1
at him, In nameless terror. He made
a audden bound to reach the bell-rope
and arouse the house. But the crea
ture, creoplng stealthily around, with
trembling hands and glittering eyes,
aaw the motion, and was upon him like
a flash.
“‘Ha, ha!’ he cried, ‘you would,
wrould you? You don’t want me to find
him! Well, I will! But I'll begin with
you!"
“I uttered a scream of terror as a
Bagger flashed In the lamplight, and
made one more frantic effort to reach
the bell.
“ ‘The moment you touch that bell,’
he shouted, ’this goes Into his heart —
you hear?*
“His threat overwhelmed me. 1
•nnk back, half-swooning with fear.
.Then began a terrible struggle. Clive
(ought against fearful ouds, for ho
fought against a madman! He had In
herited his mother’s Insanity—hla
mother's murderous mania.
“I have a dim remembrance of see
ing those muscular, writhing figures,’
reeling round and around in frantic
I combat. And all the time the maniac's
iwlld, discordant laugh was chuckling
cut in hldoou3 exultation..
“ 'lt would be as good a Joke as that
on Lisle, wouldn’t it —if I—
succeeded in—killing you? First you
—then your son —then—take that, and
(bat, and—'
T saw the dagger flash upward, and
descend —upward again.
“‘Open the panel!' Clive panted.
*1 staggered forward —I pushed the
•prlne —it slid back. He heard the
aound. ‘lt seemed to give him renewed
Vigor. With a strength which appear
ed superhuman, a strength born of des
peration. he fought the madman back
»— back into the narrow, dark passage
way the open panel discovered. He
thrust him in. The secret door slam
med to Its place. He was a prisoner
In the eastern tower!**
She paused. A coal fell from the
grate. The clock above the stables
• struck one. A ray of ghostly moon
light filtered In between the curtains
and blended with the dying firelight.
Then, for awhile, no sound broke the
■Hence, heavy with its freighted hor-
HU ror.
“How—long ago was that?” Cynthia
asked at last, In a voice hoarse witb
repulsion.
“▲bout twelve or thirteen years.**
#
The «•«*•*
Curse
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By K. TEMIPLS MOORE.
“And he has been there—ever since
—til! last night?"
“Yes. lie has been weil treated.
The very next day we had the most
famous physician In London on dis
eases of the brain come down and ex
amine him. He pronounced him, from
hereditary causes, hopelessly insane.
We could not send him to an asylum;
it would create too much curiosity and
comment, and there was something re
pelling in the idea. Besides ,if the
affair got Into the papers, troublesome
Gallic friends might be turning up. So,
acting on the doctor’s advice, we had
a room in the tower secretly fitted up.
Two confidents I have had —the old
butler and Guieletta. They have cared
for him and treated him kindly. Now
—now it is all over!"
“Yes," Cynthia cried, with a strong
shudder, “it is all over, thank heaven!"
She rose slowly to her feet, her face
white as death, with a great Indigna
tion and a great scorn.
“And you,” she went on, her earnest
voice quivering through the room clear
as a bugle call —“you would not allow
your son to marry the woman he loved
because she was the daughter of a gal
ley slave, when, you knew that her
father nad been unjustly imprisoned—
that he, an innocent man, had been
persecuted for the crime of another —
that you, by your- silence, when you
first learned of it, connived at that im
prisonment and that disgrace. Oh, It
was atrocious, It was inhuman,!”
"Cynthia,” my lady cried, piteously,
you aro very hard on me. You know
why I told him that! I thought it
would dissuade him. It wa sa fear
ful shock to have my son oorae to mo
after so many years and say, ‘I am go
ing to marry the daughter of Laurence
Lisle!’ I cried out In horror when he
spoke the name—l remembered it so
startlingly well. I reasoned to my
self that whether her father had been
unjustly conuemned or otherwise, the
fact that ho had been a galley slave
remained!”
“It was barbarously Illogical reason
ing/’ the girl said, cuttingly.
“It was such an argument as the
world would have used,” she answered,
quickly. “Do you suppose it would
havo accepted the simple assertion of
his Innocence, without proof? And to
produce proof would be to drag into
garish daylight the story of that old
Parisian misalliance. Bah! what a
feast that would be for the vultures of
scandal! So, In a moment of blind
passion, I drove him from roe. If he
persisted, exposure would have been
inevitable, and exposure would have
killed me.”
Cynthia nodded slowly, her lips com
pr«anrri, her eyes still flashing with
honest anger.
“I wonder.” she said slowly, “If you
realize how darkly—ln at first denying
your husband’s eldest son, how much
more darkiy in later blasting a love
which might have redeemed and puri
fied the wretched past—you have sin
ned!”
"Oh, I do realize It!’* she moaned,
with a bitter cry. “I do realize it now,
when It is too late! I plotted, suffered,
sinned for him! He Is gone from me!
Is lost to me! Ho is dead! My pun
ishment has been sore and heavy. Oh,
my boy, my boy, my darling!"
She bowed her haggard old face in
her trembling hands and burst Into
great, panting sobs, heartbreaking to
hear.
But the girl, leaning upon the low
mantel, and gazing down Into the dy
ing fire with wide, somber eyes, said
never a word.
A thought, a suspicion, dark, trag
ical, fantastlo, growing momentarily
In strength and volume, was aeethiug
to life in her brain.
CHAPTER XXXVIII.
“It Was Not Hel*’
Day broke over Blackcastle—a raw,
disagreeable winter day, with ominous
clouds lowering darkly along the hori
zon, and a chill easterly wind rattling
the leafless branches of the trees.
It was 9 o'clock when Cynthia Len
nox awoke from a deep, troubled sleep
—awolce to a sharp sense of misery
and desolation, and the remembrance
of the tale Lady Carington had told
her.
She sprang up, surprised at the late
ness of the hour, and began hurriedly
to matce her toilet
She rang the bell and drank the cof
fee the servant brought her. No, that
was sufficient She could not go down
to breakfast
She started as she caught sight of
herself in a mirror. Was she going to
be 111? How frightful she looked.
Bhe had grown white, and thin, and
hollow-eyed. Her pallor was intensi
fied by the dress she wore, of tight
fitting black serge, absolutely unre
lieved by any scrap of color or adorn
ment
But all the time she was dressing,
all the time she was braiding her
heavy, dark hair with swift, deft fin*-
gers, one thought, one suspicion,
which had hart Its birth during the re
cital of my lady’s story, was molding
itself into position and definite shape
"I wonder how much she knows?"
Cynthia deliberated ,as she walked to
the door of an apartment oponing off
her own room, and knocking softly.
"She should know all —she must know!
Lady Carrington says I may tell her in
secrecy. How difficult she seemed to
find It to give that permission! Weil,
In secrecy I will!"
MlSßlir
■r**t'*- ; ■
#’ ■ ■
8b• stood a few minutes, her hand
on the knob, walling for a voice to bid
her enter.
Hearing none, she turned the handle
and wont In. How warm and cosy
and bright It looked, despite the dreary
day without, this dainty nest of blue
and silver.
The long, shining curtains were still
undrawn. A subdued light still fell
from a rosy globe and left the room In
soft semi-shadow.
She went softly across to the bed—
the pretty, snowy bed, with its bars of
polished silver, its azure canopies, lt9
linen and lace and delicate embroider
ies.
She started as she drew the curtain
backward. Asleep? Aye, asleep as no
criminal ever slept elnce the world be
gan!
“Such a child!" Cynthia whispered.
And she did look a happy child as
she slept so calmly.
One iittle, slender hand lay on the
rich coverlet, the other rested lightly
on her bosom, which rose and fell with
its soft, even breathing.
There was a gleaming tangle of sun
ny hair curling about the white fore
head. j'he long, blank lashes lay upon
a cheek Just faintly flushed with rose.
T!'i6 exquisite wutJ uail'p^ritu,
half-smiling.
Even as Cynthia stood regarding her,
a strange radiance seemed to flit
across the sweet, young face. She
moved as she spoke.
“Clive,” she murmured, tenderly,
“she —is truo to you—the girl—you
left —behind —”
And then, the dark lashes lifted them
selves languidly, the blue, beautiful
eyes looked up like morning glories
in the summer time.
As Cynthia met their glance, she
smiled back the happiness she saw
there.
“Get up!” she laughed. “Oh, you
lazy Laurie!”
But the girl put up her hands and
covered her face .with a shiver of pain.
She remembered!
For a moment neither spoke. Then
she sat suddenly erect.
“I remember,” she said, slowly. “I
am under surveillance for the crime of
—murder. How strangely it sounds
—I!”
"Hurry and dress!” Miss Lennox
commanded. And the girl looked yp in
quick amaze as she noted the repressed
excitement in the usually grave voice.
"I have something to tell you—some
thing very important!”
“Miss Lennox,” Laurie said, some
minutes later, turning round from the
mirror before which she had been
brushing out her masses of sun-bright
hair, "you have twice called me by my
name. Do you believe me—that I am
she whom I say I am?”
Cynthia did not shrink before the
gaze of those clear, questioning eyes.
"Yes,” she answered, "I do!”
“Thank you!” she said, quietly.
And Cynthia noticed that she ac
cepted the admission with the gracious
but unelated pride with which a queen
might have accepted the surrender of
a rebel whose homage was her simple
due.
Something In that easy grace of
bearing touched her generous Bpirit
with a sense of Intense pleasure.
She went swiftly up to the girl and
took the face, all framed in loose,
feathery hair, In her hands and kissed
it.
“Yes,” she said, heartily, “I believe
you. You are such a wife as Clive
Carrington would have chosen among
a thousand. You would have honored
Blackcastle and honored him. Come!
you can finish your toilet later. Sit
right down here. I must tell you!”
Wondering a little, she did as she
was bidden.
And Cynthia, standing before her,
pale and handsome, and absorbingly
eager, began to speak.
She talked well, rapidly, earnestly,
as she told the story Lady Carrington
had so lately told her.
Her dark eyes dilated as she pro
ceeded; a hot glow came Into her
cheek. And when she reached the tale
the maniac had recounted in the libra
ry of Blackcastle, her auditor sprang
to her feet with a sharp cry.
The faint rose in her cheek had
deepened to crimson. Her eyes were
flashing like blue flame. The light of
a great joy—wild, wonderful, sublime
—was breaking upon her in sudden
splendor.
“Then It was not he!” she cried, and
flon«r out her hnmt«i in swift and pas
sionate eostasy. “I have not sinned
against my father In loving him! It
was not he! Ob, how could 1 have
been so base as to doubt you, my own
love —my dear love? Forgive me, for
give me!”
“Whom did you doubt?” Cynthia
asked. “Whom did you think had
wronged your father?”
She lifted her face, still all alight
with that glorious radiance.
“Whom?” she panted. “Why, Clive!
I swore to hate him; 1 strove to hate
him—the man who had made my
father and me things to be shunned!
I thought It was he —God help me!
But I could not —ah, I could not! Nev
er for one moment did I cease to love
him —never for one moment. Oh, thank
heaven, It was not he—my lover, my
darling!”
“Sit down,” Miss Lennox said, gen
tly. “You are shaking like a leaf,
child. Sit down! Let me tell you the
rest.”
“Oh, no, no!” she murmured, dream
ily. “What ia the rest to me! I am
happy, happy—so blissfully hippy!”
She walked over to the winlow, her
hands clasped above her head, and
looked out A uniformed offltial was
staring up at the casement. Sie start
ed back with an exclamatlai of dis
may, dropping the curtain.
"Again I had forgotten!” the said.
“There Is a man out there vatchlng
my window. The very Ida is so
strange, so incredible, I canon believe
or remember that I ara a prftmer and
under arrest. Well, It doesn't matter
much,” relapsing Into hjr tender
trance of a few minutes priious. and
smiling brightly up at Cyntha. “Noth
ing matters much now, an »e I know
that It waa not ho—that ha was always
noble, and good, and grand!”
‘‘Yea, It does matter, Laurie!” In her
quick. Imperious way—“lt does matter
a great deal! You must bear me out—
you must help me! I have a suspicion.
You must tell me what you think of
it!"
So, In words brief, explicit and well
chosen, she told her the rest of my
lady's story—told her of the madman
in the tower—of the laugh which had
so terrified her—a human laugh after
all; of the fire, of the discovery of the
rrurder, and lastly of her own dark sus
picion.
“Now," Cynthia said, when she had
finished, “what do you think?”
The girl looked straight at her
friend, a dawning, horrified conviction
blanching her glowing cheek.
“I think,” she replied, earnestly,
“that you are right.
(To Be Continued.)
"I see you have a new bonnet,” said
the president of the literary club to
the secretary of the same.
“Yes,” cooed the secretary. “Don't
you think It is a poem?”
“Humph!” sniffed the president.
“If I am to Judge by the materials used
and the general style of the plot, I
should say it was an historical novel.”
And then, they glared and giared and
glared.—Judge.
The yearly expenses of the sultan
of Turkey have been estimated at
$30,000,000. Of this $7,500,000 alone is
spent on the clothing of the women,
and $400,000 on. the sultan’s own ward
robe. Nearly another $7,500,000 is
swallowed up by presents. $5,000,000
goes for pocket money, and still an
other $5,000,000 for the table.
Parental Training.
Smith—How old is your son, Jones?
Jones—He’ll be twenty-one to-mor
row.
Smith—He’s certainly a credit to
you.
Jones —Well, he ought to be. I spent
fifteen years in bringing him up and
six more in calling him down.—Chica
go News.
The Ruling Passion Strong.
Napoleon was being taken to the
island.
“I suppose,” he said bitterly, "that
history will now say I deserted Jose
phine for the Black Maria.’’
Herewith it was plain to be seen the
critics had made him touchy.—New
York Tribune.
Its Great Drawback.
“The only trouble about our family
tree,” mused the hatchet-faced lady,
as she gazed on. her sisters and her
cousins and her aunts, "is that too
many wall flowers bloom on it.”
And she pointed her nose at the
celling—Judge.
Rather Pessimistic.
“This is a tough old world," re
marked the anvil in the blacksmith
shop. “I get nothing but hard knocks
all day long.”
“Right you are,” rejoined the bel
lows. "I’m always hard pressed to
raise the wind.” —Chicago News.
Breaking Up an Industry.
And now Omaha proposes to have a
graft investigation. The way this fad
is spreading is actually ruining poli
tics as a business, and there is appre
hension in some places that lifelong
politicians may yet have to go to work.
Not Likely.
Dogrel—The editor was good enough
to glance over my poem, so I hastened
to assure him it was entirely original.
Friend —And what did he say?
Dogrel—He said he knew that at
once. He didn’t suppose T had ever
seen It in print anywhere.—Philadel
phia Press.
Financial Flurry.
The goddess of liberty on the Amer
ican. coin uttered a hasty exclamation.
“My land!” she squeaked in a shrill
voice. “They’ll be calling me a Pana
mama next!”
Whereat the George Washington on
the 2-cent stamp continued to cmile
inanely.—Chicago Tribune.
Valuable Knowledge.
“For clearness read Macaulay, and
for logic read Bacon,” said Mrs. Bond
clipper, who is literary.
"And for valuable Information read
Bradstreet’s," added Mr. Bondclipper,
who Is not literary.—Detroit Free
Press.
A Flippant Child.
“Jane, you vex me dreadfully. When
that very rich Mr. Squtntum tried to
talk to you last night you gave him the
cold shoulder."
"Well, the other shoulder was no
warmer, ma.” —Cleveland Plain Deal
er.
Why Take Them?
“Mr. Karamerer has been quite suc
cessful In taking photographs under
water.”
“For goodness’ sake! What’a the
use of that? Why not tie a stone to
them and let them sink themselves?"
—Philadelphia Public ledger.
Her First Dish.
Silas—Zeke got an economical wife,
all right.
Cyrus—That so?
Silas—Yes. she actually collected
the rice that was thrown at the wed
ding and made a rice pudding.—Chi
cago News.
“I believe he made a fortune out of
fiction.
"indeed? What kind of fiction?*
“Wall street rumors.” —Puck.
%
The Bonnet.
The Sultan’s Expenses.
COLD bAths and taking cold.
Don't Begin In the Cold Alunge Habit
at This Season.
“The reason most persons who try
to take cold baths In the winter take
cold,” said a man who takes his bath
straight from the Croton reservoir, via
the tap, every morning, “is that they
don’t know how to go about it. They
don’t begin early enough. It is no use
for a man who feels the invigorating
effect of a cold plunge when he goes to
a Turkish bath about this time to
make up his mind that cold water Is
good enough for him the rest of the
winter. He should have begun to
think of that In October, taking a cold
plunge, shower or sitz every morning
that be was able to get out of bed.
“If a man has given up cold baths
for a week or two it Is little use for
him to take It up again this winter.
Better start In next spring and per
sist. Then by next winter he will
probably not take cold, no matter how
much exposed. He is the man you will
find riding on the outside platforms of
the elevated cars In the coldest weath
er, and who always rides near the door
in the trolley cars.” —New York Press.
Gratitude Well Expressed.
Sault Ste. Marie, Mich.. Feb. Bth. —
Mr. C. L. Smith, painter and decora
tor, whose home Is at 209 Anne street,
this city, makes the following state
ment;
“I was laid up with some kind of
pains. Some said it was Lumbago,
others Sciatica, and others again
Rheumatism. A few of my friends
suggested that it was lead poison,
but whatever it was it gave me a
great deal of pain, in fact, almost
completely crippled me. I had to use
two canes to walk about and even
then it was a very painful task.
“A friend advised ine to try Dodd's
Kidney Pills and 1 began the treat
ment. After I had used the first box
I was able to throw away one of the
canes and was considerably improv
ed. The second box strengthened me
uo so that 1 could go about free from
pain without any assistance and very
soon after I was completely cured,
well and happy, without a pain or nn
ache. Dodd’s Kidney Pills seemed to
go right to the spot in my case and
they will always have my greatest
praise.”
In Boston.
Mother —Emerson, I am ashamed
that you have been engaged In vulgar
fisticuffs.
Emerson —But, mother, he insisted
on maintaining that the Shake
spearean dramas were in reality the
work of Bacon. —Now York Sun.
FOR RENT OR SATE
On Crop Payment#, SEVERAL CHOICE PAKMS.
beau fur U*t» J. M UL.II A 1.1., Sioux City, lowa,
His Art and His Manners.
“I’ll admit that the eminent trage
dian we have Just mentioned is ex
ceedingly Irascible and sometimes in
discreet in bis manifestations,” said
the playgoer. “But lie Is a fine actor."
“Yes,” answered Mr. Sloimington
Barnes,” “he knows how to act. but
he doesn’t know how to behave.”—
Plso’s Cure for Consumption Is an Infallible
Bed cine forcougbs and colds. —N. W. Uahuxl,
Ocean Grove, N. J.. Feb. 17.15<XX
Not the Same.
Mrs. Goodly—My boy. it makes me
sick at heart to see you smoking.
Tuffy McNutt—lt uster make me
sick, too, ma’am, but lower down than
me heart. —Pittsburg Dispatch.
PATENTS.
List of Patents Issued Last Week to
Northwestern Inventors.
Godfrey Arpin, Clark, S. D., casket
holder; Albert Fox. Brazil, N. D.,
stove; William Gillard, Minneapolis.
Minn., depth scale; August Groenlg,
Halloway, Minn., power hammer; Oli
ver Hulback, Crookston. Minn., roll
note book; Hugh G. Macwilliam, sus
penders; Mathews Sawyer, Rapid City,
S. D., pipe or nut wrench.
Lothrup >*t Johnson, potent lawvers. 911
and 912 Pioneer Press Bldg.. St. Paul.
Some Resemblance.
“Do you think Wilkin’s new boy re
sembles his father?”
“In one way.. He’s the biggest baby
I ever saw.” —Indianapolis sun.
■other Or»y*s Sweet Powders fnrCMlAna
Successfully used by Mother Gray, nurse
In the Children’s Home in New York, cur*
Constipation, Feverishness, Bad Stomach,
Teething Disorders, move aud regulate tha
Bowels and Destroy Worms. Over 30,000 tes
timonial* At ail T)'iu 25c. Sample
yph.tc Address A. 6. Oiinated, Lcltoy.N.Y.
A woman would rather be Idolized
than understood.
Mrs. Winslow's toothing Symp.
Tor children teetbUg, soften* tho giira*. reduce* fa
flsßtunsllou,allay* pain, cure* wlndcuilo. &ca bottle.
Strong Is the man who knows bis
weakness.
To Cure a Cold In One day.
Take Laxative Bromo Quinine Tablets. All
druggists refund money if it fails to cure. 25c.
It Is always wrong not to be loved
says the connoissfur.
2f*23 CALIBER. RIM FIRE CARTRIDGES. I
Winchester .22 Caliber Cartridges shoot when you want I
V th . em to and where you point your gun. Buy the time- I
FJdk tried Winchester make, having the trade-mark "H ” E
y stamped on the head. They cost only a few cents more E
® dox than the unreliable kind, but they are dollars better. El
*OR SALE BY ALL DEALERS EVERYWHERE. -jL
■
Earliest Orem Onions.
Tha John A. Salzer Seed Co., 1a
Crosse, Wls., always have somethin*
new, something valuable. This year
they offer among their new money
making vegetables, an Earliest Gree®
Eating Onion. It is a winner, Mr.
Farmer and Gardener!
JCST SBXD THIS NOTICB iXD 15C,
and they will pend you their big plant
and seed catalog, together with enough
seed to grow
1,000 fine, solid Cabbages.
2 000 delicious Carrots.
1.000 blanching, nutty Celery.
*,OOO rich, buttery Lettuce.
1,000 splendid Onions.
1.000 rare, luscious Radishes.
1,000 gloriously brilliant
In nl! over 10,000 plants—this rreat
Offer Is made to get you to test mela
warranted vegetable seeds and
AU. ruH ULT 16c PQSTAGB,
providing you will return this nottes,
and If you will send them 20c in post
age, they will add to the above a pack
age of the famous Berliner Cauliflower,
<W. N. U.)
Settled.
She —i -win never marry a man
whose fortune has not at least flva
ciphers in it.
He—Oh, darling! Then we will ba
married to-morrow. Mine is all ciphers.
—Chicago News.
Feet Comfortable Ever Since.
•‘I suffered for years with my # eet. A friend
recommended ALLEN'S FOOT-EASE. I
used two boxes of the powder, and my feel
have been entirely comfortable ever since.
ALLEN'S FOOT EASE is certainly a god
send to me. Wm. L. Swormsteiit.Washing
ton, D. C.” Sold by all Druggists, 250.
Real Ghost Story.
Mistress (returning)—Any one to
see me, Mary?
Mary—Yes, mem. An insanitary
specter.—Punch,
The clever woman reads her novels
not in books, but in people.
PUTNAM FADELESS DYES color
more goods, per package, than others.
The absurd person 13 the person
who never changes.
FiBROID TUMORS CURED. «
Mrs. Hayes* First Letter Appeal
ing to Mrs. Pinkliaui for Helpi
“ Dear Mrs. Tinkuam :—I have been
under Boston doctors’ treatment for a
long time without any relief. They
tell me 1 have a fibroid tumor. I can
not sit down without great pain, and
the soreness extends up my spine. I
have I bearing-down pains both back
and front. My abdomen is swollen,
and I have had flowing spell 3 for three
years. My appet itc is not good. 1 can
not walk or be on my feet for any
length of time.
“ The cymptoms of Fibroid Tumor
given in your little book accurately
describe my case, so 1 write to you for
advice.” (Signed) Mrs. E. F. Haves,
252 Dudley St. (Roxbury), Boston, Mass.
Mrs. Ilaycs* Second Letter:
“Dear Mrs. Pinthiam: Sometime
ago I wrote to you describing my symp
toms and asked your advice. You re
plied, and I followed all your direc
tions carefully, and to-day I am a well
woman.
“The use of Lydia E. Pinkbam*®
Vegetable Compound entirely ex
pelled the tumor and strengthened my
whole system. I can walk miles now.
“Lydia E. Pinkhain’s Vege
table Compound is worth five dol
lars a drop. I advise all women who
are afflicted with tumors or fcmalo
trouble of any kind to give It a faithful
trial.” (Signed) Mrs. E. F. Hates,
252 Dudley St. (Roxbury-). Boston, Mass.
SSOOO forfeit if orlglnnl of above letters proving
genuineness cannot be produced
asiaißEßßiEiiiiig
■ EVERY SHuuTEh *
1 WHO SHOOTS !
sgiF i
2 AMMUNITION |
■ lias a feeling of confidence in -**
’ his cartridges. They don’t
misfire and always shoot where
H you aim. |§
it Tell your dealer U. M. C. B
I when be asks “What kind?’* 3
Send /Or catalog. «!
The Union Metallic Cartridge Co. >3
|j Bridgeport, Conn. 8
unimnnm
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