Greencastle Star Press, Greencastle, Putnam County, 7 October 1893 — Page 2

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BY MRS. ALEXANDER.

served

“As yon .want to siwak particularly to Kenneth Macalister this evening, shall 1 go out of the way to Mine. Debrlsny?” “Nawl'’ said I'ncle Sandy, emphatically. “I’ll likely want you, so you had best be at hand in your own room.” “Very well," returned Mona. Kenneth presented himself In tolerably good time—yet not before UncleS.indy had begun to fidget and fret because he had not come sooner. The private conference between uncle and nephew ha 1 not lasted long, Indore a message was dispatched to Mona, who was t 'Ting to read in her own room. “Mr. Craig says would you please to come down, miss?” So Mona descended. Uncle Sandy was grasping the arms of his chair, and speaking in an angry tone. Kenneth was standing on the hearth-rug, with flashing eyes and a heightened color. “Such willfu’ contumnclousness,*’ wef«. the words which hissed from Uncle Sandy’s Ups as his niece entered the room. “Come here, Mona! Is it true what Kenneth’s been telling me—that you have again refused to he his wife?”

“It is!”

“And has he sought you with the respect and the—the—perseverance that he should

show?”

“Yes, uncle. I have no fault whatever to And with him.” “Then why are you sae obstinate? Why will you reject what’s I or your ain good an I happiness, and refuse to agree to what 1 have planned for you?” "I am sorry to dlsapp int you, uncle, but It is impossible I can let anyone choose a husband for me.” “And 1 must declare I canna wish to marry a young leddy who has refused me three times! It would be very unwise to take a reluctant wife. May be some other young leddy — Kenneth got so far, when Mr. Craig interrupted him bitterly— “Ay, ay, my lad! ti. re’s as good fish in the sea as ever was caught; aud I see It’s no your fault. I don’t know what’s the matter wi’ you, Mona? If you have another lad iu your e’e, it’ll be some ne’er-do-weel, I am afeard. If it’s yon sneering deevil Evernrd, he wad na’ walk across the street for you. You’ll he sorry for your contradict!'msness one day.” “My dear uncle.” laughing. “I never supposed Bertie Everard cared for mortal but him df. I assure you 1 have no lad of any description in my mind’s eye.” “Aweel!” cried Uncle Sandy, greatly onr.a d, "it is varra ungrateful and unbecondn r to mak a laughing-stock ot your uncle, wha has spent a kUt o’silleron you! To think that you’ll re.use a fine good youi ; man, and never give a thought to yo u- pair uncle's comfort, .11 for mere seland an Ik-placed fancy. You, .1 just give notice to your employers. neawa’ v m to Craigdarroch. A i t you, Mona, 1 .atu done wi’ you; you

l£S,

m. \_nuHuruuKii, /Atstsio* Agent, 8t. Loui*, Mo.

She tried tn take his hand, but he pushed hers away. may go to your chum. I renounce you; you are just heartless, like your mild grandmother’s fine aristocratic freends, and look down on folks that are better than yourself.” "Hut, uncle, I cannot—” began Kenneth. “Do not contradict him,” whispered Mona, passing close by, as she approached her uncle. “Good-bye, then,” she said, kindly, “I will never offer to return, but if you want me, and ask me, I will come to you!” She tried to take his hand, but he pushed hers away, and turned his face from her like a naughty child. Mona looked at him kindly, and a little sadly, and then left the room, .forbidding Kenneth, by a gesture, to follow her.

CHAPTEK XVII.—AT VARIANCE. A change had Indeed come o’er the spirit of her dream. Mona scarcely expected such energetic action on her uncle's part. That he would be angry she expected, but she did not think he would take such strong measures. However, there was nothing for it but submission to the decree of banishment pronounced against her; she therefore parked up her belongings, told the landlady she was going away for a short time, and retreated to Mine. Debrlsay. The lady was not at home. She had gone to pass the evening with a German violinist and his wife, with whom she was on rather Intimate terms, so Mona sat down to wait for her. Mine. Debrisay did not come in till ten o’clock. “And is it here you are, all alone by yourself in the dark!” she cried, coming In quickly through the soft gloom r,* a tuer s night. “This Is tjoo bad' To think of me talking politics to that castle-build-ing German, when I might have been here with you, dear. How is it you got away from our dear Old Man of the Sea?” “Easily enough, dear Deb! Uncle Sandy has turned me out because I have decidedly refused to marry Kenneth Macalister.” “Turned yon out!” repeated Mme. Debrisay, us she struck a match and lighted the gas. “Has he gone off his heftd?” “I do not think so; but I have ventured to believe you will take me in, and in that belief I have told Mrs. Puddlford that my room was wanted, so I came over here?” “Turned you out!” repeated Mme. Debrisay, sitting down suddenly and taking off her bonnet, which she dropped on the floor; "and all for not marrying that longlegged High Winder, who Is not fit to dust your shoes.” "No, no, Dob! he Is a very good fellow.” "Oh, good enough; but not for such as you. So I suppose it is all over!" “What is all over?” asked Mona. “My hopes that your uncle would provide for you. Now you are no better off than you were before. Indeed you are

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qj|M qtioqu StuptapuNM qu.’ds noX .mui ai q !!« Jo; <1u asum 04 aAtiq noX joj ‘j|o . sjua\ tiiut it is very delightful tin 1 idea of breakfasting tete-a-tete with you to-morrow?” “Is it, my darling? Ah, it warms my heart to hear you say so! If you belonged to me now; if you were my own, own child, oh, it would give me the strength of n dozen women to work for you and light for you; not but I’d do it all the same, only I’d have a right to you then.” “Until I married some selfish tyrant of a man, who would show his love by separating me from you,” returned Mona, taking her hand in both tiers with an affec-

tionate smile.

The next day was one of Mme. Debrisny's busiest, and it was exceedingly wet. Mona sat in-doors very contentedly, busy with book or needle, and Uncle Sandy

made no sign.

The following evening, Kenneth made bis appearance, with an exceedingly per-

turbed aspect.

“Well, Mr Macalister. what la ws?”cried Mme. Debrisay, putting down the tea-pot to shake hands with him. “Good-evening, Kenneth. You do not look too happy,” said Mona. “Happy!” he repeated; “I am just miserable. I am thinking Uncle Sandy’s gone clean daft. He was up in the city at our place, and saw Mr. Sinclair—that Is the principal partner. Came In all the rain in a cab from Moorgate Street. He told Mr. Sinclair that he was going to adopt me, and requested I might be allowed to leave, as he could not go to his place in the Highlands without me. So I was called up, and old Sinclair made me n speech about my good fortune, and my excellent conduct while in the service of the house (1 don't believe he knew my name rightly half tin hour before); and the two old fellows complimented eacli other. I fancy Mr. Sinclair thinks I am come in for ten thousand a year at least. This morning all ttie clerks were congratulating me, and I felt

like a thief.”

“Why should you, Kenneth? I assure you I should have been more miserable than you look, if I thought my uncle had quarreled with you about me. I have perfect conffdence in your loyalty.” “And you may have that, Cousin Mona; but it’s many a long day before I can be of any use to you.” “lx!t me give you a cup of tea, Mr, Kenneth,” said madame, kindly. “It is my opinion,” sin' continued, as she poured it out, “that neither one or other of you will ever see a sou of your uncle’s money. He will get all he can out of you, and then leave all he has to som? church or institution, or something wicked of that kind.” “No, I do not think that,” returned Mona, thoughtfully. “I believe he isquite earnest in his intention now, but he might get angry again and change his mind.” “After all.” cried Mme. Debrisay, “I don’t believe he has much to leave behind him. He talks big; bnt for all the cry I suspect there is not much wool.” “There is no telling.” said Kenneth. “Hut 1 think he is rich. My poor mother thought he was ferry rich.” “We shall never know till poor Uncle Sandy has no further need of our services,” said Mona, smiling. “So there is no use

conjecturing.”

"That is true. Eh, but he is dreadfully angered against Mona,” returned Kenneth, addressing Mme. Debrisay. “When I said I would come over and see her, he broke out against her, and forbade me to cross your threshold. I could not stand that. 1 just told him that I was willing to obey him in many ways, but that neither of us ha 1 any right to quarrel with her. So after some words—a gond many words—he told me to do as I liked, but I was never to name your name to him. He is awful miserable—just fretting the flesh off his bones. We are to start for Craigdnrroch

on Monday.”

Sinne more talk and friendly conjecture made time pass quickly till Kenneth rose to bid them good-night. Mona could hardly believe that Uncle Sandy would leave town without seeing her, and she kept a giaid deal in-door until tne Monday fixed for his departure; hut the old man made no advance. Mme. Debrisay Insisted on her being a guest for at least a month, to which the fearof offending her kind hostess compelled Mona to agree. Otherwise, the rest and con eniid companionship were very de-

lightful.

Uncle Study had been gone about a week, r.ad the last days of July were fast slipping nwnv. when one warm sultrv afb moon, as Mona was out shopping for m ulame, whose soul expanded at sale :i ne, a smart footman overtook her, accosting her with the words, “If you pleuse’m, Lady Finistoun would be glad to speak to you.” “liHily Finistoun?” repeated Mona, looking round. “Where is she?” “Her ladyship is tn the carriage, close

by."

Following the man, Mona was soon shaking hands with her former ally. “I was so afraid I should miss you, dear,” ;ried the young peeress, shaking hands warmly with her. “I was afraid you had vanished from me altogether. Bertie told me about meeting you abroad with a wonderful old millionaire of an uncle. Come, let me diiv* u wherever you are going, >r, better still, let me take you to sec baby, ■'iicti a dear, darling baby. Y'ou will tie ■nchanted with him. Do come In. Open the door, William." “Oh, yes! I should he so delighted to see your baby, dear Evelyn!” said Mona. The next minute she was seated beside Lady Finistoun, and driving toward that lady’s house. “Why did you not let me know you were in town?” "I have not been long here,” returned Mona, “and I have been busy. Nor did I tbink of looking you up. You see it is no use attempting to be on the old footing. We must drift apart.” “Oh, nonsense! You look as well—indeed better than ever. You will never lose your style, Mona, and I dare say you will marry very well, especially with this rich uncle behind you.” “My uncle has an heir." “No! Has he? How very disgraceful! Nevermind, dear, you aretvidently a favorite of fortune. Where are you staying now?” “With Madame Debrisay ”

1 “And what have you done with the nn-

cle?”

“He has quarreled with me and left me.” “Oh, you foolish girl! How did you offend him?” I “It is too long a story to tell you now. Tell me about yourself.” : Nothing loath, Lady Kinislotm poured (forth the annals of a golden life flooded with the sunshine of prosperity—with busy pleasure and careless, though kindly happiness. Soon they reached Hyde Park Gardens, and Lady Finistoun sent a perempt ry message to nurse. Sh soon appeared with ttie Hon. Hector Aubrey Douglas Montgomerie In her arms—.1 very active young gentleman, who did his best to precipitate himself head-foremost on the fio ir—j 11 miring. crowing, clutching at Ids nurse’s cap, and slobbering after the fashion of luibies from St. Janies’ to S'. Giles'. He held ou’ Ids plymp. mottled arms to his delighted mother, who proudly look him, and then, as the highest mark of affection anti confidence, gave ld::i to Mona. She receive 1 him with no small apprehension, tiiouga pronouncing him, with genuine admiration to tic a splendid fellow, and “so li:,e Lord Fiidshmn." “Do you see the likeness too'' Yes, I think he is. Hut do you know. Mona, lie has the Newburgh gray eyes? Tney are like yours. Mima. Don’t you think baby’s eyes are very like Miss Joseelyn’s—I mean Mi's Craig’s? (Your name always puzzles me. Mona)." “Perhaps so. my in ly. They are very fine eyes, any way.” A little more showing off, and nurse judged that tier lady had had as much of baby’s society as was good for them all. She suggested that the young gentleman’s own apart m 'tit was ci oler and fr. M.er for him than the drawing room. Afti ra little more kissing and cuddling he w as taken away, and Lady Finistoun and her kinswoman sat down to tea. “I am so glad you are pleased with the boy! I could see by vonr eyes you were ready to love him. There are lots of people ready to exclaim.’He Is a tin • child!’ but few look at him ns vi udid dear.U na!” cried the young mother. ‘ Take ell your hut, and we shall have a nice chat ovorour tea. I am no’ at home to anyone, Tomkins”—to the butler. "1 want you to come oud stay with me at Strathairlie. As soon as our cruise 's over we are going for a w • k to the Chase, and w ill in- int he Highlands the second week of Septemb r. Will you come. Mona?” “I do not think I can. 1 shall want to be In town by the first of October, "tid—'’ "Oh, but you realij must . r v ' \nd then, didn’t Bertie tell tne that the millionaire uncle has a place quite near? Then you can make friends with him. We will ask him to dinner. Those sort of people are always so pleased when they are asked to dinner.” “I shall not go anywhere. I shall stay very thankfully with my good friend Mine. Debrisay, who never changes toward me.” "Ah, yes, she is a dear old thing! But fancy staying in London all the year. You Will make yours df HI, Mona.” “.Tust think, Evelyn, of the hundreds of people who never quit it, and live on." “Then they are quite different.” “I cannot see,” b gun Mona, w hen Lady Finistoun Interrupting her, exclaimed— “Oh, Mona! do you remember Captain Lisle?”. “1 do.” “He 1ms come into n large property and a baronetcy’.” “Oh, indeed! How did that happen?” “I think he always expected it. Did Sir Howard Lisle was a relation of his father’s and as they were a non-marrying set of men, oar acquaintance, though not a near cousin, was the next heir.” So. after all, he was not a poor man. He had wealth and position almost in his grasp ( when lie shrunk from sharing his life with her, thought Mona, while Lady Finistoun rattled on. “But I suppose there are many like him,” was her conclusion. “I rather think my mother would have liked him for Geraldine, hut I am not so sure he would have made a good husband,” Lady Finistoun was saying when Mona listened again. “Thesir fascinating, nilaccomplished men seldom do. They tell queer stories about them. The Countess of Northallerton went out of her mind about him, so it is said, and only the earl died so suddenly there would have been a fearful row.” “He was very agreeable," said Mona, quietly. “Yes. He has been very popular in India, but he is coining home now on ‘urgent private affairs,’ I suppose, and will probably leave the army. You are not going yet, Mona?” “1 must. Madame Detirisny will lie looking for me." Lady Finistoun embraced her affectionately, and Mona walked leisurely home through Kensington Gardens In a very thoughtful mood. *♦***#*# The encounter with Lady Finistoun afforded much matter for talk to Mme. Debrisay. She did not press Mona to accept her invitation. “I am not sure it would do you any good, dear. It is better to keep with those of your own trade. It went to my heart to see you leave your beautiful home, and the society you were used to; but it had to' lie done, and there is no use in looking back. Life has many sides, and there’s none without Its own spark of light." So the friends enjoyed the quiet holiday time together. Prudence forbade their leaving town. But Mona, fresti from her wanderings, was glad to rest; and Mme. Detirisny was quite content while she had

Mona.

Kenneth wrote occasionally. Uncle Sandy was greatly annoyed at the mismanagement of all things appertaining to the farm during his absence. He had dismissed the man he had left In charge, and was determined, with Kenneth’s help, to direct everything himself: lint he was very unwell and,’fractious. He never mentioned Mona’s name, but Kenneth was of opinion

‘Here U a letter from Uncle Sandy/"

that he thought of her a goal deal. Meantime there was no chance of his getting away, and he began to fear that it would be many a month before he could see his Highland Mary. The days and weeks (lew by rapidly, and Mme. Debrisay was beginning Ui think of work again, when one morning in the first week of Scptfcx.btr, the post brought Moaa a letter addressed m exceedingly shaky, spider-like calligraphy. It bore the post murk of “Klrktoun;” and having looked at it earnestly for a moment, she exclaimed— “Why, here Is a letter from Uncle Sandy!” “You don’t say so! Head it to me. if you will.” "I’ll try. What an awful hand." “My Dear Niece:—As you have had time to think over your unkind and ungrateful conduct to your natural protector and nearest of kin. I make no doubt vou are sorry and ashamed of yourself. But, as youth is always willful and self-opinion-ated, 1 dare say false shame holds you back from saying you lire sorry. Therefore, for the sake of your father, and Indeed, for your own. I will believe that you say them In your heart, and are willing to atone to me', by trying to be a comfort to my poor troubled old age, which you have been, all the time we journeyed together. “Kenneth is a good lad, and decently sensible out-of-doors, hut within it is awful desolate without a woman to order things. I therefore propose that, if you are penitent, as I hope you are, you come and stay with me as my daughter, to look after me, aud rule my house, and 1 promise that you shall not be asced to wed witti anyone you do not like, but that if you do wed, and leave me, you will find some wise-like woman to hide with me, and care for me, in your place. “Now, you must write at once to me, yes or no, and th sn t mi - on us yon can start. Kenneth shall meet you in Glasgow. As you are young and strong, you might take the night train and come on here when you have taken a bite of breakfast in Glasgow Feeling sure you will come to your old uncle, I inclose you a post-office order for tinee pounds five shillings and sixpence, to pay your fure(second class), and a cal) aud such like. And I’ll give you a trifle for clothes every quarter regular, as we may agree upon. If your heart Is go «1 toward tne, you might lose no time and be with me by Thursday first. For l am just wearying for you, my dearie! And give my respects to madame. May he she’ll come up in holiday-time and pay us a visit. It is always a treat to look on the Highlands, and you’ll be bonnier than ever when you live in ttie sweet mountain air. Now jusi answer straight, and as you answer, so I’ll be your loving uncle or no. "ALEXANDER UlUIO.” “Well,” said Mme. Debrisay, her countenance falling, “1 always expected it. What’ll you do, dear?” "Do?” repeated Mona, slowly. “I scarcely think 1 have any choice. Yon see he voluntarily removes all cause of complaint; but it is hard to leave you, Deb.” “It is cruelly hard to let you go; but 1 must. Now, Mona, my dear, be careful in answering that letter. You must show him that you are sacrificing independence to nurse him. And do not commit yourself to stay with him always.” “How cau I bargain with a poor old man that loves tne?” “He loves his ‘siller’ better. You must not sacrifice yourself, Mona. Let me write what I want you to say, and you can modify it if you like; but you must let him see that you are giving up independence for his sake. Now is the time to make a clientele, and you resign the chance.” "Very well, Deb. In such a matter two heads are better than one. " There is one point I will stipulate for—a yearly holiday to come and see you! That will revive me, and you too; will It not?” “Ah, my dartin’ child, it will indeed!” The tears sprung to Mme. Debrisay’s bright, expressive eyes, and leaning toward her beloved pupil, she kissed her affectionately. “Now, dear,” she continued, “let us get rid of the breakfast things, and concoct our famous letter.” It was a piece of work not to lie quickly done. The collaborators had wide differences of opinion as to what was and was not to be insisted upon. Mona had mostly her own way, but, ffevertheless, wasagood deal influenced by her friend’s shrewd advice. Finally, the letter was dispatened. As aeon as the post could bring a reply came another epistle agreeing to everything, and expressing Uncle Sandy’s extreme satisfaction. He gave his niece a few commissions to execute respecting books, papers, etc., and promised to'subscribe loan Edinburgh circulating library, that they might have entertainment and instruction in the long winter nights. The ensuing week was a busy one. Ixmdon dress-makers were not to be thoughtlessly left behind. Preparations for a prolonged sojourn in comparative wilds were to be made. And Mona dearly loved becoming dress and pretty things. Still madame preached economy, and the necessity of considering Mona’s tiny capital as too sacred to be touched. Then the hour of parting came soon—too soon. What sandwiches Mme. Debrisay cut; what biscuits and grapes she bought;- how neatly she did them all up in apicturesque little basket with loving care, may be imagined. She loaded her “dear child” with all kinds of little, useful presents, and she sent a warm waistcoat of her own knitting to Uncle Sandy, in preparation for the winter. “I want to stand well with him, dear, for your sake; and he never quite took to me.” Finally she parted from Mona with nearly dry eyes. "Why should 1 make her heart ache,” thought the kindly woman. Hut she was deeply gratified by the profound regret with which Mona bid her good-bye. “My only Idea of home Is with you, dear Deb. You shall have a letter every week, and you must write regularly, too.’’ So madame stood smiling to the lost, till the last glimmer of the red light at the end of the train had vanished, and then went home, to have it out unrestrainedly with her sorrow.

CHAPTER XVIII.—AMONG THE HEATHER. Craigdarroch was a beautiful secluded spot on the side of a hill—the advanced post of a mountain range, which npheaved its lofty crests further inland. It looked west upon the loch (an Inlet of the sea), which lay directly beneath it, and south toward the mountains, which tended to the east. The wild stretch of rocky heath-er-grown upland, called Strathairlie deer forest, InY to the .north, and immediately at the other side of the hill, barely three miles distant, was the shooting-lodge of

Lord Finistoun.

The house was old, gray, and rambling, having been much added to; and, thanks to the shelter of the hill, boasted the ornament of surrounding woods, not only of flr-trees, but beech and numerous oaks. H had been the residence of the old lairds Strathairlie. They had passed away long ago, and their lands had been divided

among different purchasers. The Lo Finistoun of that day had bought the df forest, and built a lodge, a Glasgow mt ufacturer bought the house, the home, a two or three other farms, which form the estate of Urnigdarroch, for a sumn residence. He failed, and it was agi brought to the hummer, when San Craig became the possessor, for a sum cidcdlv below Us real value. ({<, a ] bought a guo i ueai ot the furunure, estu lishing himself with much glee. But was somewhat late in life to change 1 habits. Farming provtrfa; costly nij, ment. The want of 94>' regular e ployment made him irrifftnlr, undacheei paring spirit as regarded the consumpti of coal, coupled with the dampness of m winter on the western coast, induced rtii matisni So Sandy Craig thought hinist in a very bad way, and betook himself London for superior medical advice, wi the results we have seen. Tiie place seemed to him after his loi absence at once more beautiful and mo intolerable than it used to be. He luntj to show it to Mona. He longed to he her exclamations of delight at its beaut and to display so distinguished looking creature as his niece and adopted daught —for pride was a very ruling passion iut] heart of Sandy Craig. Still, it cost him a severe mental strugo to yield so much to his strong desire f Mona’s company, as to write the lett above quoted. Ouco done, he was fevt Ishly ■ •.. ' to reap the froiu of inrender, and reckoned the days till Moi made her appearance. After a fatiguing journey, for the nigl was warm. M mu found herself at Gla gow in the gray of the morning. Early 1 it was, Kenneth, “In t he gurii of dd Gaul, 1 await • i. -r • n the pla form H< \ ao martial and magnificent, t hat Mona di ' not recogiiiz • him at llrst. When she di t »be was di.'po.vd to laugh at what st considered his “fancy dress.” He assure - her, however, that it was ids habitual cos tume when among the hills, and that th only difference he had made was to put 01 his best go-to-meeting kilt and plaid in he honor. “Not altogether in my honor, Kenneth, she sai l, when having collected her Ing gage, they hud time to exchange a fei words. “Well, may be not,” he returned, wit a happy smile. "Now. if we leave by th one-twentv train for Klrktoun, we’ll gf [CONTINUED NEXT WEEK.]

Vast I haimf cun be fit led. but the heart c nmn can never be satisfied.

What Do You Take Medicine for? Because you are sick and wan to get well, or because you wish to preven illness. Then remember that Hood's Sarsa pnrilla cures all diseases caused by imptir blood and debility of the system. It is no what its proprietors say but what Hood’s Sai saparilla does, that tells thestory of its merit Be sure to get Hood’s and only Hood's. Purely vegetable—Hood’s Pills—25c.

Woman is like the reed that benda in ever; breeze, but breaks not in the tempest. Litt le vegetable health producers: DeWitt'i Little Early Risers caltnudartous disorders! and regulate the stomach and bowels, which prevents headache and dizziness. Albert Allen, agt. ly He who is virtuous is wise; and he who is wise is good; ami he who is good is happy. The Proof of Merit is fully demonstrated in the use of Craft's Distemper Cure among horses. It cures chronic Coughs Colds. Pink Eye and all catarrhal troubles of the horse. It is acknowledged by Veterinary Surgeons to be a wonderful remedy and the only known specific treatment for Distemper. Price 50 cents. 8oid by Albert Allen. oct To give pain is the tyranny; to make happy, the true empire of beauty.

Ignorance I t th, merits of DeWitt's Little Early Risers is a misfortune. These llttlel hills regulate the liver, cure headache, dys-l pepsia, bad breath, constipation and bilions-l ness. Albert Allen, agt. ly I A profane oath is a malignant tumor in the! body of language. Perhaps some of our readers WOUldj like to I know in what respect Chamberlain's Coughl Remedy is better than any other. We wull tell you. When this remedy is taken as soon I as a cold has been contracted, and before it I has become settled in the system, it will counteract the effect of the cold and greatly lessen its severity, if not effectually cure the cold in two day's time, and that it is the only remedy that will do this. In act in perfect harmony with nature and aids nature in relieving the lungs, opening the secretions, liquefying the mucus and cauiing its expulsion from the air cells of the lungs and restoring the system to a strong and healthy conditron. No other remedy in the market I possesses these remarkable properties: No I other will cure a cold so quickly or leave the I system in as sound a condition. For sale by I Albert Allen. oct I

A propensity to hope and joy is real riches; J one to fear and sorrow, real poverty.

lies. j urns. 1 ores. I

Dewitt’s Witch Hazel Salve cures ulcers. , Albert Allen, agt. ly I Choose rather to punish your appetites than to be punished by them. |

D Witt’ 8 W^ 0 !* ® s * ve cures ^ DeWitt’s Witch Hazel Salve cures

aMMj . Ill, online, i.miiriiens, nwouieu Limbs, Saddle or Collar Calls that Morris’ English Stable Liniment will not cure. It cores when others fail. Use it and you will not be disappointed. Price 25c. .50c. and |100. Actually worth 26c to consumer. Sold by Albert Allen. oc t Everything in the Christian’s life that is not good dishonors God. We could not improve the quality if paid double the price. DeWitt’s Witch Hazel Salve is the best Salve that experience can produce, or that money can buy. Albert Allen, agt. ly If you would avoid being disturbed by your conscience do what It demands of you. , Skinner, ofTexarkana, Arkansas, Hrthusiast in tne praiseof Chamberlain's \ a , n i' Be used it for rheumatism, and com 8 i lt , t °fi e a most excellent local rpmedv For sale by Albert Allen. oct Some men never trust God as long as they can see a chance to do anything else. vZ| l Le h r e „ t | a L l i ln the wor,d wl 'l not convince Iwi sT?! k J y as °1 < i tr,al of DeWitt’s Witc . f £ r ? cald8 ' burns, bruises, ski affections and piUs. Albert Allen, agt. ly

When Baby was alck, we gave her Caatoria. When she was a Child, she cried for Castorts. When She became Miss, she clung to Caatoria WB*) Ae had Children, she gave them Caatoria. j

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Children Cry for Pitcher 1 ® Castorla. Children Cry 4or Pitcher's Castorla. Children Cry for Pitcher’s Castorla.