Jasper County Democrat, Volume 1, Number 49, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 18 March 1899 — Page 2

THE CHILDREN'S CRUSADE

By CAPT FREDERICK WHITTAKER

CHAPTER V.—tConrinned.) j Big Teter, with a slight smile that he could not suppress, noticed that the «kl < hermit did not attempt to control the'j young crusader, but permitted him to have . his own way, as the trumpets sounded the | advance, and the children resumed their | march. Hildebrand, like Peter the Hermit he-1 fore him, as soon as the crusade was fairly on its way. assumed no authority, fort followed in the ranks lj one of the rest. The captain of the crusade was evidently as jealous of his authority as Nicholas had been; though he exercised it in a different way. He gave all the directions to the bodies of children to march and halt. Big Peter and BNnche, whom be permitted to accomitany him. were treated with a distinction that did not extend to the hermit hitaself, save when lie was preaching. Thus they marcbed on for the rest of the day; and when night came, were within a few miles of Marseille*, tlie peasant* from all the country around f!<«ekiug to feed them, as had happened all through the journey. As soon as camp was pit died, the young leader of the crusade told Big Peter to follow him, and calks! for a mule for Father Hildebrand, who accompanied them to the city of Marseilles. It was a . fine, moonlight night and they could see their way plainly, while the i«o]«iilation of the country round had brought torches and lanterns, and were turning night into day in the excitement which had acixwnpanied the children’s crusade wherever it went. The old monk went with them because his services would be needed in dealing with outsiders. The children obeyed their leader well enough; but grown men would listen to the hermit where they would have hesitated to treat with a boy. even of Stephen’s family. Hildebrand had found a merchant named Charles Marcel, who had promised that he would furnish ■hipping for the children to Pah-slim-, and he agreed to perform his promise- as soon as he heard that the crusade had arrived. Then they rode back to the camp, and found it in a state of great excitement, tor word had just come to them that Nicholas had refused to remain under the or- , ders of Stephen any longer, and had turn- I ed the course of his march toward Italy, I while they had l<eeu disputing with old 1 Count Stephen. The crusade was breaking up.

CHAPTER VI.

This news proved true; and the children co in tn a i'' Iby Nicholas separated from those tun er Stephen and marebed toward Italy, the (teasants on the way receiving them with all the demonstrations of welcome which had greeted the whole body wherever it had gone. The old hermit, at first inclined to persuade Nicholas to come back, had encountered, in Stephen, an unexpected obstacle. The young count had absolutely refused to be bound by the orders of the oil man. ■nd declared that he was captain of the crusade, and as long as he performed his cow he would take orders from his own conscience. He insisted that, the ships being ready to take the children, it would be a tempting of Providence to let go the opportunity that might never return; and the old hermit was coiuiwdk-d to acquiesce, and embarked on the evening of the second day after their arrival at Marseilles. Then it was found that the crusade, which had already torn so many children from their parents, had been unalde to keep them together, as the hermit had hoped. Thirty thousand children had come from Vendome with Nicholas; twentythousand of these had gone off with Nicholas on their way to Italy; and half of the rest dropped off at Marseilles, leaving five thousand only as the strength of the crusade that was to capture the sepulcher from the Turks. The same number of grown men. picked warriors of Europe, would have been too feeble a force under the itest general in the wurld; but such was the enthusiastic confidence of the age in its wild enterprise that half the population of Marseilles came down to see the children embark, ■nd the ships sailed out of the harbor, the boy warriors singing the hymn of “Veni, Creator Spirit us,” with the cheerful confidence that they had only to shew themselves for all the Turks in the East to fall down and abjure their religion. Still, there was something about this crusade, under the boy count, which makes it different from others of those ill-starred enterprises. Stephen, boy as be was, had a brain that was strong and sensible, though his romantic belief in the dreams of the old hermit had carried him • away. He had but five thousand boys with him; bnt they were all armed, by the offerings of the pious, on the way; and, had they been men of experience, might bare rendered a good account of themselves. The youngest on lw«ard the fleet was sixteen, and the majority were as old as Stephen himself. Moreover, they were for the most part youths of noble fanu- ~ ties, who had been brought up to the cxercism of arms, in a way with which we vare unfamiliar to-day. They could all , shoot ibe bow or cross-bow—the latter a weapon then being introduced in France, though not yet common. They all had jirmor of some sort, if only - helmet and buckler; and provisions were plenty on the fleet, thanks to the offerings of the pious people of Marseilles and Provence in genBesides the boys, who were the warriors of the expedition, there were nearly a hundred girls on the fleet, under the

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laero crowned Queen of the Crusade, with due solemnity, by Hildebrand, just before their «fa*parture front Marseilles. Their duties wero to wait on the sick and wound* d. when such were to be found in the fleet, and among them Blanche de Vaux was the only one who did not wear the crass nn her shoulder and obey the orders of the Queen of the Crusade. In fact, it was easy to see that the same jealousy that bad existed between Stephen and Nicholas, which had broken up the children's crusade into two bodies, was <pTJiins between Isabel and Blanche, hut in a different way. Blanche did not like Isabel, who returned the compliment with interest, though both were evidently f«ad of Stephen. for they were always near him. Bat likings and disliking* apart, the wind blew fair for the young crusaders and the skies were bright, and the boy count. as he stood on the lofty carved stern of the galley in which fee led his little Sket, wore an expression of rapt enthusiasm on his hacdsome young face as he said softly to Blanche: “At last, my sister, we are on the way to the land which was once trod by the feet of our Lord. I lost thou not feel already the Messing of heaven rests upon I us?" Blanche sighed slightly. ~ Isabel, who was on the other side of the young leader, answered for her. in her usual impetuous way; “The Lidy Blanche is not with ns, though she sails with us. But when we l<lant the banner of the crass on the towers of Jerusalem, then shall she wish that she had taken the eras® herself." “Not ro.” replied Blanche, steadily. “It is one thing to see Jerusalem and another to take the cross and kill men in the name of the God who said, thou shalt not kill.’ We shall see Jerusalem, but the sight will make none of us the better.” “How sayest thouT* asked the young count, sharply: for the speech of his sisI ter. in opposition to his dreams, always irritated him. dearly as he loved hew. “We shall roe Jerusalem, but the sight will make nor better? What folly is this?" Blanche turned her dark eyes on him with a strange, yearning look, that hauntid him many a year after, as she replied: “We shall roe it: but not as conquerors. ; The time is coming, and that soon, when > we shall all roe whether God is with us or not.” The young count struck the bulwark of the galley impatiently with his gauntlet, as he cried: “Now, by the cross on my shoulder, i sister, if thou hadst thought that, thou shouldst never have come with us.” Big Peter, who was standing nigh them, | U-hind his young lord, here coughed slightly, and Stephen, in the same angry manner as that with which he greeted his sister’s words, turned on him fiercely, saying: “And thou, too? Dost thou think we shall end in disaster?" Big Peter compressed his lips, and after a short pause, said, in a tone of great gravity: “What a man like me thinks will not alter the case, my lord. I came to follow my lord, ami die for him if need be. A man can do that, and the angels will find him. whether he have a cross on his shoulder or not." The impetuous but warm-hearted boy held out his hand to his faithful servant, saying: “I was wrong to chide thee. Thee, at least. 1 can trust to fight, whether it be for the cross or for me. To-morrow will show os.” “Ay. *y- "O’ ford." said Big Peter, slowly. -To-morrow will show; and it will be seen then whether the hermit Hildebrand be a prophet as be says or what my lady Blanche called him.” And this time neither the boy count nor Isabel said a word. The speech of the young vassal had cast a shade of thoughtfulness over them aIL as they realized that they had gone two far to recede. Still the heavens continued as fair and pleasant as could be desired, and the northerly befearo wafted nn the little fleet. There were ten ships of burthen, equipped with sails only, very broad and bluff in shape, in which the majority of the boy crusaders had embarked. They were trading ships, not meant for battle; and to guard them in the fight, there were five galleys—long, low vessels, with rows of oars on either side, pulled by crews of slaves, whose dark faces showed that they were Arabs or Turks—which, in truth, they were. They had been taken captive in the previous crusade* and were chained to the benches on which they sat, performing their tasks in sullen silence, wrier the lash of the masters set over them. It was a remarkable thing that the Christians, who were so loud in their complaints of the cruelties of the Turks toward Christian staves, practiced the same or greater cruelties on all the unfortunate Moslems who fell into their power. It was also remarkable that the young crusaders, whose youth should have made them tenderhearted naturally. showed toward their rowers in the galleys, on that memorable crusade, even more cruelty than the grown sailors who manned the fleet. Blanche de Vaux and Big Peter, who wore no crosses oa their shoulders, were the only people in the fleet who seemed to pity unfortunate mature* in <W>r«m£w»/the lady Mhroedbr

benches of the rowers, and actually arrested a blow that was about to fall on the shoulders of one of the unhappy creatures, who had fallen half over his oar as if completely exhausted with fatigue or sickness. “Shame on thee for one who calls himself a warrior of the cross!” she said, indignantly, to the boy who had raised his stick. “Is that the way to follow the cross? It is written: ‘lf thine enemy hunger, feed him! if he thirst, give him drink.’ Is that the way thou followest the scriptures?” The boy crusader curled his lip, though he did not dare to resist the sister of his young leader. “We shall all be forgiven our sins if the holy sepulcher,” he said. “As for these Turks, they are misbelievers and they deserve death and stripes. One infidel the less will never be missed.” Then he went away forward and Blanche turned toward the young slave whose attitude of exhaustion had brought on him the correction. The i>oor young man —for he was barely twenty —had a dark but exceedingly handsome face, though it was thin and sickly looking. His large dark eyes were full of gentleness and appeal as he cast on the beautiful girl who had saved him a glance that told of his thankfulness. Something in that look stirred all the pity in Blanche s breast, as she inquired: “What is thy ame, friend? Art thou sick?” The young slave bowed his head over his oar with a deep sigh as he answered in broken French: “My name is forgotten among my people. lady. No one remembers the slave. If he be well they beat him; if sick, they beat him harder. But Saphadim will not forget the lady in the last day.” “In the last day?” echoed the girl, puzzled. “What meanest thou?” Saphadim glanced up at Big Peter, who was looking at him in his usual stolid fashion, not showing much expression on his face. The girl understood the glance, and answered: “Speak out. We have no cross on our shoulders, and will not harm thee.” The dark eyes of the young Turk blazed with a singular fire as he replied in a low voice, as if afraid of being overheard: “In the last day, when the angel Azrael shall lead the true believers over the bridge Al Sirat, Saphadim, who has never yet omitted his prayers, will ask of the angel a boon to lead with him the lady who showed him pity, though a Christian. The rest shall be plunged in the tire that never dieth, where Eblis reigns forever.” Big Peter, with a slight smile to his young mistress at her look of puzzlement, observed, dryly: “My lady sees that the Christians are not permitted to have all the cursing to themselves. This miscreant can curse as well as old Hildebrand; and the Turks have their own hell for us, it seems.” “But what is the bridge Al Sirat?” asked Blanche, curiously. “It is the bridge over which all souls must pass at the last judgment,” said the Turk, solemnly. “It is the edge of a saber, fine as a razor, and beneath it are the fires of Eblis, or Sheitan. Into that fire will fall all who cannot call on the name of the prophet and bold the hand of the angel to guide them aright.” “And thou wilt ask the angel to let me come with thee?” asked the girl, curiously. Saphadim bowed his head solemnly. “I will, because thou art the only Christian that hath taken pity on a true believer, in his affliction.” Big Peter, with the same half-amused smile, asked, in turn: “And where shall I go, friend Turk?” Saphadim turned and eyed him narrowly, and then resumed his weary task at the oar, saying gruffly: I "Thou wilt go where it pleases God to take thee.” The big fellow laughed as he turned away, remarking to Blanche: “ ”Tis the truest word spoken yet on this galley. That shall we all do, and it will be all the same in the end.” Then the two strolled away along the line of the rowers; the lady, by her presence, checking a great deal of the brutality that was shown to the unfortunate prisoners at the oars, tiH the evening came on, and the wind fell with it. when the ships of burden took down their sails in the cautious fashion of that day, and the whole fleet rested for the night, not daring to sail on. in the absence of the compass, whiah makes navigation so easy in our days. (To ne continued.) Copyright.

BLOOD-FED ROSES.

They Bloom in Rare Beauty at the Vatican at Home. For years the gardens of the Vatican at Rome have been famous for roses, of so deep a red that they are almost black, so rich in idoom, so rare in perfqme that they rank first among all tlje rose* of Europe. And now somebody has found out that the Pope's gardenw is watering these famous flowers with Mood. But there is one rare and beautiful plant whii-h only grows upon the graves of men. ami only springs from a soil enriebttl with human blood. Such is the tradition attached to the Bloody Flower of Newmarket. Newmarket course has long been famous for a very ancient and curious trench, said to Lave been dug as a defense in battle and to be full of human bones. This Devil’s Ditch runs six miles from Reach to Dullingham, crossing the Newmarket race course. And here only, from the bones of the ancient dead, springs the bloody flower. This large five-petaled kingcup, Mood red to purple, with spiked leaves and a tbiek white sap. blooms In June and July in great big clumps along the ditch. The bloom is the size of a halfdollar. During the season the diteb is visited by many hundreds of people, who come to pick the flowers. Indeed, the Vatican rose and the Bloody Flower of Newmarket are not *e only plants which owe value and feme to tbe fertilising of human remains. The Benedictine and Chartreuse tiquers are both derived from grapes grown on ancient burial places.

The Army Mustache.

The mustache first became common in the British the be|Wfffljfofc The »^w >rl> I WflSrlL JWtnntll lof the Kj|ian war that Th** ’nfautrf

AN INVINCIBLE HORSE-TAMER.

Early Achievement* of an Oh’oan Who Became World-Famon*. Lida Rose McCabe sketches in the St. Nicholas the life-story of an obscure country boy, whose love of horses “turned a leaf in civilization,” and brought him, beyond any man of his time, into close social intimacy with the crowned sovereigns of the world. His name was J Min S. Rarey. Ear< in the century, his father—a Pennsylvania Dutch farmer- cleared a tract of forest land on the outskirts of Ohio’s capital. On this virgin spot was built a log cabin, in which the future horsetamer was born. The cabin In time became the beginning of the village of Groveport, known half a century ago to lovers of horses throughout the civilized world. While a babe in his mother’? arms, it was young Rarey’s delight to watch the animal life on the farm. To pet the horses and cows was ever to the boy a keen pleasure. When he could make his way alone to the farm-yard, It was observed that the friskiest colts were docile under the caressing strokes of th,» child’s hand. John was the youngest of seven children. At this period he was the only child at home. The Rarey farm was isolated. Many miles lay l>etween neighbors. Having no youthful playmates, his warm little heart made friends of the chickens, the cows, and the colts. At the age of three years it was his delight to ride astride the plough-horses. One significant incident in the childhood of the “invincible horse-tamer” Xvas frequently related by his mother. It occurred in his fourth year. The family being at the dinner-table, one day, it was discovered that the chair of the youngest was vacant. A servant was sent in quest of the truant. The fields, the barns, the hay-mounds were searched in vain. A terrific scramble was heard, at length, in a gravel roadway near by. To the horror of the distracted houshold, Johnny Rarey was discovered upon the back of the wildest colt on the farm.

Expecting to see tlie child fall to the ground every moment, the father started to his rescue; but to the relief of the household, colt and rider soon reined up in safety at the barn door. When reproved for his conduct, the Infant replied that he and the colt were the best of friends. To convince his father of ids mastery of the colt, he mounted and dismounted, bridled and unbridled the animal, who, io the astonishment of the spectators, submitted to his young mast er’s directions. His control of tlie colt was much talked of in the neighborhood. From that time the young horseman was in great demand to carry messages between the scattered farm-houses. Before his ninth year his reputation for horsemanship in that part of the country was unrivalled.

FAMOUS FOR CLEAN SHIRT.

Premier Who Went Home and Changed Hi* Soiled Linen. The point of the appended anecdote la, perhaps, suggestive of that trait of th* ill-bred in this country who insist upon interlarding a conversation with the important fact that they “took a bath,” and making it the chief exploit of their day’s doings. This is from the British Australasian: The death of Parramatta, near Sydney, is announced of Rev. T. S. Forsaith, who, starting life as a ship’s apprentice, became premier of New Zeland, and spent his last years as a Congregational minister in New South Wales. He had been premier for two days only, the government 4iei ng defeated on an amendment to the address. His ministry is famous, besides its brevity, for the sobriquet which it obtained of “The Clean Shirt Ministry. ” Mr. Forsaith bad been assisting his employes to unpack some drapery cases recently lauded, whereby his oiothing became very dusty. On receiving the governor’s demand to come and see him respecting the formation of a new ministry, he naturally went home first and changed his dusty garments. Later on, when making his ministerial gtatement, he narrated the simple incident, and this so tickled one of the Southern members as to wring from him the chaffing declaration that he gathered little more from the premier’s “statement” than that the honorable gentleman bad gone home and put on a clean shirt—Pittsburg Dispatch.

Torreador Earned $6O,OOO a Year.

A successful toreador published his receipts a short time ago. During the corrida season be took part in sixtyfive fights and killed 133 bulls. His net profit was $60,000, and the only injuries be sustained were a bruse on bis foot and a rather bad wound In the leg. The risks are, of course, great; but the men are so extraordinarily agile that grave accidents really seldom occur. Sometimes one will be badly gored, but a week or two of hospital will generally set him on his legs again. These men, often uneducated and proceeding from the lower classes, are courted and feared, and even the larger newspapers of Madrid are careful to give nothing but praise to them, for fear of incurring their enmity.—Sketch.

Will Erect a Tablet to Gladstone.

Arrangements are being made for the erection of a tablet to the memory of Gladstone on the house ,In Rodney street, Liverpool, in which he was born. The work is being undertaken by the Historic Society of Lancashire and Cheshire, to whom the necessary permission has been granted by the possessor of the residence. # JuM the for a wofalaii» jieolft? have A ; a^nMthet.f<si I iinsba nd tejpper. Real gratitude is never ashamed of bumble benefactor*.

PROFIT BY LOSS

Th* Bank of Englaad Make* Money in Thl* Way. It is a fact, that tn many minds, no doubt must be very curious, that the Bank of England has always had a pretty steady source of profit in the loss and destruction of its bank notes. What it has gained of late years in this way we are unable to say, but during a period of forty years pr-ceding 1832, the bank had made a clear profit of £1,330,000 from outstanding paper never likely to be presented for payment. When the destruction or the irrecoverable Joss of a note can be proved, as In the event of a fire or a wreck It can, the bank, of course, will always pay the money it represents; and even when there is doubt about it, the cash is paid on security being given for indemnifying the bank should the note ever be presented.

Many years ago a bank director lost a note for £30,0C0. But being a man of credit, and as there was no doubt about the loss of the bill, he gave the usual Indemnity and got the money. Many years after, when the man had long been dead, the paper was presented. It Was payable on demand, and had come from abroad in the ordinary way of business, and the sum it represented had to be handed over, and as the indemnity that had been given was repudiated by the heirs of the man who had given it, and for some reason could not be enforced, the bank on that occasion had to put £30.000 on the debit side of the account. For once In a way they paid double honor to a bit of their own paper. There isanother story of a sum of £20,000 which the bank in its early days for a short rime refused to Land over in exchange for its own notes. They were presented by a Jew, whose assertion that he had bought them was not disputed, and whose personal integrity was above suspicion. They had, however, undoubtedly been stolen, and on that ground the bank refused to pay the money. The Jew went out into the city, and began to spread it abroad that the bank was shaky, and couldn’t cash its notes, and as he backed his assertion by displaying his indisputable paper, the assertion would in all probability soon have caused a run on the bank, and In a few minutes a messenger came to say that the notes would be cashed If he would present them again.—London News.

Wealth of U-H- ge Secret Societies. The rapid growth of the wealth of college Greek letter fraternities was emphasized by the statement that the Kappa Alpha lodge at Cornell, which was recently burned, was valued at $45,000 and that the total value of the fraternity property at that institution amounts to nearly a million dollars. One fraternity lodge alone at Cornell is worth nearly SIOO,OOO. Williams College comes next to Cornell in the value of its fraternity property, and then Yale, Amherst. Wesleyan and Harvard in the order mentioned, according to a recently published estimate. Since Columbia moved into her new building the mord prosperous fraternities have each made plans for expensive chapter houses. These houses are not owned by the fraternity at large, but by each individual chapter, and some of them are excellent illustrations of the work of our best-known architects. It has been estimated that there are 8,000 to 9,000 college fraternity men in New York.—New York Sun.

Quickly Settled.

Mr. Sproggins—And if I decline to let you have my daughter what do you propose to do? Mr. Wibbleson—l warn you that in that we are prepared to act. Even now my beloved Aurelia has her best clothes on and awaits me near the railway station. If you decide against us we will flee together and never come back. Mr. Sproggins (without a moment's hesitation)—Then I refuse.

PERFECT womanhood depends on perfect health. Nature's rarest gifts of physical beauty vanish before I pain. Sweet dispositions turn morbid and fretful. The possessions? that win good hits- nJ bands and keeptheir love should be guard- W edby women every moment of their lives. fl The greatest menace' to woman’s per- UWBflflJl AIU manent happiness in life is the suffering flw that comes from derangement of the feminine organs. ■MCwCwflw Many thousands of women have realized " ■■ this too late to save their beauty, barely in time to save their lives. Many other thousands have availed of the generous in- I vitation of Mrs. Pinkham to counsel all suffering women free of charge. Mrs. H. J. Garretson, Bound Brook, N. J., writes: “Deab I Mrs - Pinkham—l have been tak- I ing Lydia E. Pinkham’s Vegetable Compound with the best results 1 'I y fl “d can from m y hcart that your medicines are wonderful. ■ My physician called my trouble I chronic inflammation of the left OVary - years I suffered very I much, but thanks to Mrs. | Pinkham’s Vegetable Com- I j riflr pound and kind advice, I NL am today a well wo 1 ' | I 4L Xman. I would say to qll suffering women, taka Tl ~ | 1 Lydia E. Pinkham’s medicine and your suferings will vanish.” RS * Magcie Phup fl \ ( LIPPE ’ of Ladoga, Ind., Mr V 1 "rites: \ yfl I “Dear Mrs. Pink- | Z| \ ’ ham —For font years I I /I \ K/y suffered from ulceraf I flfl tion of the womb. fl’ll 1 became so weak I yfl fl ' could not walk across I |oon*>ithont help. After giving up all hopes o£ recovery,. I B « w&kAflised to use Lydia E. Pinkham's Vegetable Com- 11 pound and wrote for special information. A began to improve I I toy.*. botde. .m I

of SgM Oat of Mind ” In other months we forget the harsh winds of Spring. they have their use, as j some say, to blow out fflb bad air accumulated Winter storms and Spring thaws. There is far more . important accumulation of badness in the veins and arteries of humanity, which needs Hood's Sarsaparilla. This great Spring Medicine clarifies I the blood as nothing else can. It cures I scrofula, kidnev disease, liver troubles, I rheumatism and kindred ailments. Thu* I it gives perfect health, strength and ap- I petite for months to come. Kidneys -“My kidneys troubled me, I and on advice took Hood s Sarsaparilla I which gave prompt relief, better appetite. I My sleep is refreshing. It cured my wits I also.” Michael Boyle, 3473 Denny Street, 1 Pittsburg, Pa. Dyspepsia and kidney trouble, I suffered for years I with dyspepsia, with severe pains. Hood’s I Sarsaparilla made me strong and hearty.” I J. B. Emebtox. Main Street, Auburn, Me. Hip Disease-" Five running sores on t my hip caused me to use crutches. Was I confined to bed every winter. Hood’s Sar- I saparilla saved my life, as it cured me per- ! fectly. Am strong and welt” Aim | Robert, 49 Fourth St., Fall River, Mass. | ""Hood'ii till* care llrer lll», the non^rritatlag>»< The only railmrtic to take with Hood'e SernOfttrilhu |j Writs C*pL OTAMaik ?saricaA*at.ff»niMlH|l.t |

“It Might Have Been.”

It is sometimes possible for a lawyerq to prove that his opponent is the wiser#] man, as in a story printed by Every|l Where. A police justice was disposingU of eases at the rate of about two agl minute, with great exactness and dig-M nity. being judge, jury and attorney aJIT] in one. I "Then you are sure you recognise this! handkerchief as the one stolen from I you?” he said to a complainer, I "Yes, your honor,” was the reply. I "How do you know it is yours?*’ de- I mauded the justice. I “You can see that it is a peculia® make, your honor,” replied the witnessfl “That is the way I know it” I “Are you aware, sir.” shouted th® justice, drawing a similar one fronfl his pocket, "that there are others likfl it?” J “Indeed I am." replied the questioned one, still more placidly. "I had twß stolen.” , I

Don’t Mind the Weather.

There Is one thing that does no® mind the weather, and that is rheumaß tlsm; and one thing that does not min<B rheumatism is St. Jacobs Oil. as it goeß to work upon It and cures right off. I Vienna is commonly supposed to bB a more convivial city than Berlin, btfl Vienna has only 3.600 taverns to lOfl 000 in Berlin, which has 1,700,000 irfl habitants, while Vienna has 1,400,00<fl

I believe my prompt use of Piso'a Cure

prevented quick consumption.—Mrs. Lifl cy Wallace, Marquette. Kan., Dec. 12, Ylfl Keys of bronze and iron have beefl found in Greece and Italy dating frotfl at least the seventh century befofl Christ. I

To Cure a Cold in One Day

Take Laxative Bromo Quinine Tablets. Aj* druggists refund the money if it fails to cur fl 25c. The genuine has L. B. Q. on each table® The happiest life is that which £ll stantly exercises and educates what ■■ best in us.—Hamerton. I