Rensselaer Republican, Volume 25, Number 35, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 27 April 1893 — Page 2

The Master of Ballantrae

By Robert Louis Stevenson.

CHA PTEK XXX. THE JOURNEY IN THE AVIf.DKRNESS. Mountain’s story, as it was laid before Sir William Johnson and my lord, was shorn, of course, of all the earlier particulars, and the expedition described to have proceeded uneventfully, until the master sickened. But the latter part was very forcibly related, the speaker visibly thrilling to his recollections, and our then situation, on the fringe of the same desert, and the private interests of each, gave him an audience prepared to share in his emotions. For Mountain’s intelligence not only changed the world for my Lord Durrisdeer, but materially affected the designs of Sir William Johnson. These I find I must lay more at length before the reader. Word had reached Albany of dubious import; itshad been rumored SOTHS' hostility was to be put in act; and the Indian diplomatist had, thereupon, sped into the wilderness, even at the approach of winter, to nip that mischief in the bud. Here, on the borders, he learned that he was come too late; and a difficult choice was thus presented to a man (upon the whole) not any more bold than pru»dent. His standing with the painted braves may be compared to that of my Lord President Gulloden among the chiefs of our own Hi s > landers at the ’forty-five; that is as much as to say he was to these men reason’s only speaking trumpet, and counsels of peace and moderation, if they were to prevail at all, must prevail singly through his influence. If then, he should return, the must lie open to all the abominable tragedies of an Indian war —houses blaze, the wayfarer cut off, and the men of the woods collect their usual disgusting spoil of human scalps. On the other side, to go forth, to risk so small a party in the desert, to carry words of peace among warlike sayages already rejoicing to return to war, here was an extremity fio n which it was easy to perceive his mind revolted. “I have come too late,” he said more than once, and would fall into a deep consideration, his head bowed in his hands and his foot patting the ground. At length he raised his face and looked upon us, that is to say upon my lord, Mountain and myself, sitting close round a small fire, which had been made for privacy in one corner of camp. • “My lord, to be frank with you, I find myself in two minds,”, said he. “I think it very needful I should go on. but not at all proper I should any longer enjoy the pleasure of your company. We are still here on the water side, and I think the risk to the southward no great matter. Will not you and Mr. Mackellar take a singler boat’s crew and return to Albany?” . My lord, I should say, had listened to Mountain’s narrative regarding him throughout with painful intensity of gaze, and since the tale conoluded had sat as in a dream. There was something very daunting

in his look; somethin" to my eyes not rightly human; the face lean, dark and aged, the mouth painful, the teeth disclosed in a perpetual rictus; the eyeballs swimming clear of the lids upon a field of bloodshot white. I could not behold him myself without a -jarring irritation, such as (I believe) is too frequently the uppermost feeling on the sickness of those dear to us. Others, I could not but remark, were scarce able to support his neighborhood Sir William eviting to be near him, Mountain dodging his eye and when he met it blanching and halting in his story. At this appeal, however, my lord appeared to recover command of himself. “To Albany?” said he, with a good voice. “Not short of it at least," replied Sir William. “There is no safety nearer at hand.” “I would be very sweir (unwilling) to return,” says my lord. “I am not afraid —of Indians,” he added, with a jerk. “I wish that I could say so much,” returned Sir William, smiling; “although, if any rnan durst say it, it should be myself. But you are to keep in view my responsibility, and that as the voyage has now become highly dangerous, and your business —if you ever had any," says he, brought quite to a conclusion by the distressing family intelligence you have received, I should be hardly justified if I even suffered you to proceed, and run the risk of some obloquy if anything regretful should follow.” My lord turned to Mountain. “What did he pretend he died of?” he asked.

“I don’t think I understand your honor," said the trader, pausing like a man much affeoted, in the dressing of some cruel frost-bites. For a moment my lord seemed at a full stop: and then, with some irritation, “I ask you what he died of. Surely that's a plain question,” said he. “Oh, I don’t know,” said Mountain. “Hastie even never knew. He seemed to sicken natural, and just pass away." “There it is, you see!" concluded my lord, turning to Sir William. “Your lordship is too deep for me.” replied Sir William. “Why," said my lord, “this is a matter of succession; my son's title may be called in doubt; and the man being supposed to be dead of nobody can tell what, a great deal of suspicion would be naturally roused.”

“But, God damn me, the man’s buried!” cried Sir William. “I will never believe that," returned my lord, painfully trembling. “I’ll never believe it!” he cried again, and jumped to his feet. “Did he look dead?' f he asked of Mountain. 1 “Look dead?” repeated the trader. “He looked wh,ite. Why, what would he be at? I tell you, I put , the sods upon him.” My lord caught Sir William by the coat with a hooked hand. “This man has the name of my brother," says he, “but it is well understood that he was never canny.” “Canny?” says Sir William. “What is that?” “He’s not of this world,” whispered my lord, “neither him nor the black aeil that serves him. I have struck my sword throughout his vitals," he cried, “I have felt the hilt ring on his breast-bone, and the hot blood spurt in my very face, time and again, time and again!” he repeated, with a gesture indescribable. “But he was never dead for that,” said he. and I sighed aloud. “Why should I think he was dead now? No, not until I see him rotting,” says he. Sir William looked across at me, with a long face. Mountain forgot his wounds, staring and gaping. “My lord,” said I, “I wish you would collect your spirits.” But my throat was so dry, and my own wits so scattered, I could add no more. “No,” says my lord, “it’s hot to be supposed that he would understand me. Mackellar does, for he kens all, and has seen him buried fore now. This is a very good servant to me, Sir William, this man Mackellar; he buried him with his own hands —he and my father —by the light of two siller candle-sticks. The other man is a familiar spirit; he brought him from Coromandel. I would have told ye this long syne, Sir William, only it was in the family. ” This last remarks he made with a kind of melancholy composure, and his time of aberration seemed to pass away. “You can ask yourself what it all means,” he proceeded. “My brother falls sick, and dies, and is buried, as so they say; and all seems very plain. But why did the familiar go back? I think ye must see for yourself it’s a point that wants some clearing.” “I will be at your service, my lord, in half a minute,” said Sir William, rising. “Mr. Mackellar, two words with you,” and he led me without the camp, the frost crunching in our steps, the trees .standing at our elbow hoar with frost, even as on that night in the Long Shrubbery. “Of course, this is midsummer madness?” said Sir William, so soon as we Were gotten out of hearing. “Why, certainly,” said I. “The man is mad. I think that manifest.” “Shall I seize and bind him? asked Sir William. “I will upon your authority. If these are all ravings that shou'd certainly be done.” I lookeu down upon the ground, hack at the camp with its bright fires and the folks watching us, and about me on the woods and mountains. there was just the one way that I could not look, and that was in Sir William’s face. “Sir William,” said I, at last, “I think my lord not sane, and have long thought him so. But there are degrees in madness; and whether he should be brought under restraint— Sir William, I am no fit judge,” I concluded. —^—

“I will be the judge,” said he. “I ask for facts. Was there, in all that Srgon, any word of truth or sanity? o you hesitate?” he asked. “Am I to understand you have buried this gentleman before?” “Not buried,” said I; and then, taking up courage at last, “Sir William," said .were to "teß you a long story, which much concerns a noble family (and myself not in the least)it would be impossible to make this matter clear to you. Say the word, and I will do it, right or wrong. And, at any rate, I will say so much, that my lord is not so crazy as he seems. This is a strange matter. into the tail of which you are unhappily drifted.” “I desire none of your secrets,” replied Sir William; “but I will be plain, at the risk of incivility, and confess that I take little pleasure in my present company.” “I the last to blame you,” said I, “for that.” “I have not asked either for your censure or your praise, sir,” returned Sir William. “I desire simply to be quit of you; and to that effect, I put a boat and complement of men at your disposal.” “This is fairly offered,” said I, after reflection. “But you must suffer me to say a word upon the other side. We have natural curiosity to learn the truth of this affair; I have some of it myself; my lord (it is very plain)has but too much. The matter of the Indian’s return is enigmatical." “I think so myself,” Sir William interrupted, “and I propose (since I go in that direction) to probe it to the bottom. 'Whether or not the man has gone to die upon his master’s grave/ms life, at least, is in great danger, and I propose, if 1 can, to save it. There is nothing against his character?” “Nothing, Sir William,” I replied. “And the other?" he said. “I have heard my lord, of course; but, from the circut»stances of his servant’s loyalty, I must suppose he had some noble qualities.” “You must not ask me that!" I cried. “Hell may have noble flamps. I have known him a score of years, and always hated, and always admired, and always slavishly feared him.” . “I appear to intrude upon your

secrets,” said Sir Wifliaip, “believe me, inadvertently. Enough that I will see the grave, and (if possible) rescue the Indian. Upon these terms, can you persuade your master to return to Albany?” 1 ‘Sir William,” said I. “I will tell you how it is. You do not see my lord to advantage; it will seem even strange to you that I should love him; but I do, and I am not alone, If he gees back to Albany, if must be by force, and it will be the deathwarrant of his reason, and perhaps his life. That is my sincere belief; but lam ip your hands, and ready to obey, if you will assume so much responsibility as to command.” “I will have no shred of responsibility; it is jny single endeavor to avoid the safne,” cried Sir William. “You insist upon following this journey up; and be it so! I wash mv hands of the whole matter.” With which word, he turned upon his heel and gave the order to break camp; and my lord, who had been hovering near by, came instantly to my side. ‘Whicixis it to be?” said he. “You are to have your way,” I answered. “You shall see the grave.”

CHAPTER XXXI. The situation of the master’s grave was, between guides, easily described; it lay, indeed, beside a chief landmark of the wilderness, a certain range of peaks, conspicuous by their design and altitude, and the source of many brawling tributaries to that inland sea Lake Champlain. It was therefore possible to strike for it direct, instead of following back the blood-stained trail of the fugitives, and to cover, in some sixteen hours of march, a distance which their pertubed wanderings had extended over more than sixty. Our boats we left under a guard upon the river; it was, indeed, probable we should return to find them frozen fast; and the small equipment with which we set forth upon the expedition, included not only an infinity of furs to protect us from the cold, but an arsenal of snow-shoes to 1 ender travel possible, when the inevitable snow should fall. Considerable alarm was manifested at our departure; the march was conducted with soldiery precaution, the camp at night sedulously chosen and patroled; and it was a consideration of this sort that arrested us, the second day, within many hundred yards of our destination —the night being already imminent, the spot in which we stood well qualified to be a strong camp for a party of our numbers; and Sir William, therefore, on a sudden thought, arresting our advance. Before us was the high range of mountains toward which we had been all day deviously drawing near. From the first light of the dawn, their silver peaks had been the goal of our advance across a tumbled lowland forest, thrid with rough streams, and strewn with monstrous boulders; the peaks (as I say) silver, for already at the higher altitudes the snow fell nightly; but the woods and the low ground only breathed upon with frost. All day heaven had been charged with ugly vapors,

in the which the sun swam and glimmered like a shilling piece; all day the-wind blew on our left cheek, barbarous cold, but very pure to breathe. With the end of the afternoon, however, the wind fell; the clouds, being no longer re-enforced, were scattered or drunk up; the sun set behind us with some wintery. spleudor, and the white brow of the mountains shared its dying glory. It was dark ere we had supper; we ate in silence, and the meal was scarce dispatched before my lord slunk from the fireside to the margin of the camp, whither I made haste to follow’him. The camp was on high ground, overlooking a frozen lake, perhaps a mile in its longest measurement; all about us the forest lay in heights and hollows; above rose the white mountaius; and higher yet the moon rode in a fair sky. There was no breath of air; nowhere a twig creaked; and the sounds of our own camp were hushed and swallowed up in the surrounding stillness. Now that the sun and wind were both gone down, it appeared almost warm, like a night of July.; a singular illusion of the sense, when earth, air and water . ..were , .dimmed to bursting with the extremity of frost. My lord (or what I still continued to call by his beloved name) stood with his elbow in one hand and his chin sunk in the other, gazing before him on the surface of the wood. My eyes followed his, and rested almost pleasantly upon the frosted contexture of the pines, rising in moonlit hillocks, or sinking in the shadow of small glens. Hard by, I told myself, was the grave of our enemy, now gone where the wicked cease from troubling, the earth heaped forever on his once so active limbs. I could not but think of him as somehow fortunate, to be thus done with man’s anxiety and weariness, the daily expense of spirit, and that daily river of circumstance to be swum through, at any hazard, under the penalty of shame or death. I could not but think how good was the end of that long travel, and with that, my mind swung at a tangent to my lord. For, was not my lord dead also? a maimed soldier, looking vainly for discharge, lingering derided in the line of battle? A kind man, I remembered him; wise, with a decent pride, a son perhaps too dutiful, a husband only too loving, one that could suffer and be silent, one whose hand I loved to press. Of a sudden pity caught in my windpipe with a sob, I could have vyept aloud toremember and behold him; and Standing thus by his elbow, under the

broad moon, I prayed fervently that he should either be - released or I strengthened to persist in my affection. “O God,” said I, “this was the best man to me and to himself, and now I shrink from him. He hid no wrong, or not till he was broke with sorrows; these are but his honorable wounds that we begin to shrink from. Oh, cover them up; oh, take him away, before we hate him!” I was still so engaged in my own bosom, when a sound broke suddenly upon the night. It was neither very loud nor very near; yet, bursting as it did from so profound and so prolonged a silence, it startled the cam}, like an alarm of trumpets. Ere I had taken breath, Sir William was beside me, the main part of the voyagers clustered at his back, intently giving ear. Methought, as I glanced at them across my shoulder, there was a whiteness, other than moonlight, on their cheeks, and the rays of the moon reflected with a sparkle on the eyes of some, and the shadows lying black under the brows of others (according as they raised or bowed their head to listen) gavedo the group a strange air of animation and anxiety. My lord was to the front, crouching a little forth, his hand raised as for silence, a man turned to stone. And still the sound continued, breathlessly renewed, with a precipitate rhythm. Suddenly Mountain spoke in a loud, broken whisper, as of a man relieved. “I have it now,” he said; and, as we all turned to hear him, “the Indiac. must have known the cache,” he said. “That is he—-he is digging out the treasure.”

“Why, to be sure!” exclaimed Sir William. “We were geese not to have supposed so much..” - _ “The only thing is,” Mountain resumed, “the sound is very close to our old camp. And again, Ido not see how he is there before us, unless the man had wings.” “Greed and fear are wings," remarked Sir William. “But this rogue has given us an alert, and I have a notion to return the compliment. What say you, gentleman, shall we have a moonlight hunt?” It was so agreed;dispositions were made to surround Secundra at his task; some of Sir William’s Indians hastened in advance; and a strong guard being left at ©ur headquarters, we set off along the uneven bottom of the forest; frost crackling, ice sometimes loudly splitting under foot, and overhead the blackness of pine woods and the broken brightness of the moon. Our way led down into a hollow of the land, and as we descended the sounds diminished and had almost died away. Upon the other slope it was more open, only dotted with a few pines, and several vast and scattered frocks that made inky shadows in,the moonlight. Here the sounds began to reach us more distinctly; we could now perceive the ring of iron and more exactly estimate the furious degree of haste with which the digger plied his instrument. As A*e neared the top of this ascent a bird or two winged aloft and hovered 1 darkly in the moonlight, and the next moment we were gazing through a fringe of trees upon a singular picture. (to be continued.) 5

AT HIS OWN GAME.

A Book Agent Who Paid $5 for Valuable- Experience. Detroit Free Press, He was a book agent, and apparently a thrifty one, for his clothes were good and he had the bearing of a man who knetv his business and did it successfully. He knocked at the door of a house on Second avenue, and upon being admitted sent up his-card. The lady of the house, of course, didn’t knQMTWho her visitor was, and came down to see. As soon as she- stepped -i«t& the room where he sat expectant, she spotted him for what he was and made up her mind. “Ah, Mr. Blank,” she said, so cordially that he lost his balance, “how do you do? lam real glad you came in. You knew it was very kind of you. So many men have a way of trying to escape, and it is such a rare thing for one to be brave enough to come right up, that really I am charmed.”

By this time the agent was clear off his feet, and tried to say something, but she went right on. “You know, of course, you must know, that the ladies on this street are doing all they can to raise money enough to buy an organ for our church, and we only need now SIOO to complete the full amount necessary. Of course we expected you would give us $lO, but as you have been bold enough to beard the lion in his den”—-and she 1 laughed merrily—“why, you know I am going to let you off on only $5. It’s such a small amount that I'm sure you will not hesitate to give it to us, though of course, if you wish to make it $lO we will not refuse it.” By this time he had in some manner fished out the only $5 bill he had, and handed it over. “I'm sure —"he began. “Oh, don’t mention it,” she went on; “you are too kind; and now I won’t detain you a moment longer from business, for I know how busy you men are in the daytime.” He began to say something again. “No, no, she intcruptf*d. “I won't listen to a word. You must go now, and some other time you may come in and tell me how glad you are to help us,” and she fairly-hustled him out of the front door, and shut it after him. Then she laughed. “Well," she said, “I guess ha won’t come back again,” and he, from the other side of the door, didn’t ask her to guess again.

HISTORY’S DAWN.

Three Hundred and Fifty Years - { Ago in Kansas. John J. Ingalls, in Harper's Magazine. The dawn of modern history broke upon Kansas three and a half centuries ago, when Marcos de Naza, a Franciscan friar, returning from a missionary tour among the Pueblos, brought rumors of populous cities and mines richer than Golconda and Potosi in the undiscovered country beyond the Sierra Madre. In 1541, twenty years after the conquest of Mexico by Cortez, Francisco Vasquez de Coronado, under the orders of Mendoza, Viceroy of India, with a little army of 300 Spaniards and 800 Mexicans, marched northward from Culiacan, then the limit of Spanish dominion, on an errand of discovery %nd spoilation. Crossing the mountains at the head of the Gila river, he reached the sources of the Del Norte, and continued northeasterly into the Mississippi valley, descending from the plains to the prairies, crossing the present area of Kansas diagonally nearly to the fortieth degree of longitude. . At the farthest point reached in his explorations he erected a high cross of wood, Avith the inscription, “Francisco Vasquez de Coronado, commander of an expedition,, reached this place.” He left some priests to establish missions among the Indians, but they were soon slain. In his report to Mendoza, at Mexico, Coronado Avrote: “The earth is the best possible for all kinds of productions of Spain. I found prunes, some of which Avere black, also excellent grapes and mulberries. I crossed mighty plains and sandy heaths, smooth and wearisome and bare of wood, and as full of crookedbacked oxen as the mountain Serena in Spain is of sheep.” Coronado was followed sixty years latter by Don Juan de Onate, the conqueror of New Mexico, and 1 in 1662 by Penalosa, then its governor, who marched from Santa Fe, and was profoundly impressed by the agricultural resources of the country Avhich he traversed. The desultory efforts of—the Spaniards to subdue the savages and acquire control ,of the territory continued for a century, Avhen the French became their competitors, under the leadership of Marquette, Joliet, Hennepin, Iberville, and La Salle, by whom formal possession of the Mississippi Valley was taken in 1682 for Louis XIV. By this monarch the Avhole-pi evince of Louisiana,' including Avhat ia now called Kansas, with a monopoly of traffic with the Indiana tribes, was granted in 1712 to Crozat, a wealthy merchant of Paris, who soon surrendered his patent, and 1 its privileges were transferred to the Mississippi Company. Under their auspices the city of New Orleans was founded in 1718 by Bienville, whd, in the following year, despatched an expedition, under the command 1 of Colonel du Tissonet, who visited the Osages at their former location in Kansas, and crossed the prairies 120 miles to tbq villages of the Pawnees at the mouth of the Republican River, where Fort Riley new stands. He continued^his march westward 200 miles, to the land of the Padoucahs, where he also set up a cross, with the arms of the French king, September 27,17J9. In 1724, De Bourgmont explored northern Kansas, starting from the “Grand Detour,” where the city of Atchison now stands. In 1762, Kansas, with the 1e ;t of the Louisiana territory, was ceded by France to Spain. In 1801 it was retroceded by Spain to France. On the 30th of April, 1803, it was sold by Napoleon, then First Consul, to the United States, Thomas Jefferson, President. This was the largest real-estate transaction which occurred that year, being 756,961,280 acres for $27,267,621, being at the rate of about 3£ cents per acre. The Anglo-Sax-on was at last in the ascendant. Attached in 1804 bv act of Congress to the “Indian Territory,” the following year to the “Territory of Missouri,” Kansas remained, after the admission of that State in 1820, detached, without local government or a name, until its permanent organization thirty-four years afterwards.

Yawning a Cure for Earache.

* Earache is so common a especially among children, that such a simple remedy as that proposed by a Swiss doctor is worth the trying. He says that by making the patient yawn two or three times a day the pain becomes distinctly lessened; and the same effect is felt in certain diseases of. the throat. The movement acts in some way as gentle massage and so frequently affords relief. One of the advantages of the cure is that it can do no harm, even if it does no good, though I would advise its being practiced away front other people, for everyone knows how disagreeably infectious yawning is.

Try It.

To pass a hair through a walnut without boring a hole seems an impossibility, but the feat has often been done. The hull of the walnut, when examined with a strong glass, is seen to have innumerable small openings, some of which lead entirely through the nut. The trick consists in using a very fine hair and an infinite amount of patience. Patfs the hair into ono of these minute crevices and urge it gently along. Sometimes it will appear on the other side at the first trial, but if it comes out at the hundred and first you will be very lucky.

Free Trip to Chicago.

lepahtt W-0-R-L-D-’8 F-A-I-B an£ use itie latter* to spell at many word, as you cac by using the letters aa many flute* as you wish, either backwards or f rwardn. but not use <ho same letter la tusking any one word more times than It appears In “World’s Fair." It is,said seventy-five small English words can be spelled correctly from the ten . Ifet ers contained In “World’s Pair." Bxamp e: Wad, waif, soar, idol, etc. If you are good at word-making you can secure a FREE trip to the AVorld’s Fair and return, an The Scott Seed Company will pay all *xpeases. Including R K fare, hotel bHls, adml.slons to the Columbian Exposition, anti $•0 1 n cash for incidental expense*, to the torst person able to make bevh.vty words from the letters contained in “World's Fair." as above. They will also give a FREE TRIP to the World’s Fair and return. with *25 fur incidental expen,es, to the first person sending sixty words hs abovo. They will also give a FREE TRIP to the AVorld’s Fair and return (without cash for incidental expenses) to the finl person fiptr-rn a words. / ’■ o the first person sendin; fifty words will be given SSO In casu towards paying expenses to the World's Fair; to thi first ■ending fortY words will be given $25 in cash towards paying expenses to the World's Fair; to each of the first five persons sending thirty-fits words Will' be given 110 In cash; and to each of the first ten sending thirty word* will be given $9 In cash. Only one prize' will be awarded to the same person. Writs ymtr irn win on list of words (numbered) and Inclose the same l ost-paid with fifteen Hiiterl States 2-cent stamps for a large package ot our Choice En lisb O ttage Garden Fiower Seeds. This combination includes the latest and most popular English flowers of endless varieties (same as will be contained in the elaborate exhibit or English flowers at the AVorld’s Fair). This “World’s Fair” Contest will be carefully and conscientiously conducted solely for the purpose of Introducing our l* in in css in the United Stages. You will receive the BIGGEST value In dowor seeds ever offered. and If yon are ablo to make a good list of words and answer promptly you will have a first-class opportunity to secure a free trip from your home to Chicago akd MTIIBn.™ —r—-77"-—-': •' " , : , — ", '. We are spending a large amount of money to start our trade in the United States and want your trial order. You will be more than gratified with the result. Rend to-dav. and address THE SCOTT EEED COMPANY. Toronto.' Cananda. Singers must bo partieullir about their diet. This is owing to the dost elation be w n their board and their timbre.

Hood’s Cures Even When Galled Incurable. rerrible Siege—Sciatic Rtienmatiam. Mr. Arthur Simon* “They said I was incurable, the doctors did. but the result has proven that BoodTs Sarsaparilla was able to cure. I had Sciatic Rheumatism and was confined to my bed six months Three phyaiciaus did not help me and. I r- — Was Given up to DieWhen I was in this terrible condition, unable to move hand or foot, I began to. take Hood’* Sarsaparilla,. The first bottle had & little effect, and while taking the second,. I gained bo r pidiy that I could sit up In. my ehalr. M* system hod been so run down by other medv c ue, that It took me quite a while to recuperate. By the time 1 had taken, four bottles of Hood’s Sarsaparila I could walk around,and now, as I have taken six bottles. I am cured and can do a good day’s work, Ido not fed 1 can praise Hood’s Sarsaparilla enough.” Arthur Simon, Galirtea. Ohio. Hooo'S Pills are the best after dinner Fill* asust digestion, cure headache. Try a Box.

A Pore Norwegian Oil is the kind used ; 1 in the production *> of Scott's Emul- H sion Hypophos- ! phitesof Lime and rlrontarvJP Soda are added If for their vital es- Wy, |te» feet upon nerve and brain. No mystery surrounds this formula — the only mystery is how quickly ' it builds up flesh and brings back strength to the weak of all ages. Scott's Emulsion ! will check Consumption and is indispensable in all wasting diseases. , Prepared by Seott k Bowne. N. T. All dmssleta.

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