Rensselaer Semi-Weekly Republican, Volume 20, Number 18, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 4 November 1898 — Page 2

A FATAL WEDDING.

CHAPTER Vll.—(Continued.) The library at the castle opened op to the grand hall. Until five o’clock, when afternoon tea was served in the great ball on the return of tihe sportsmen, Miss Hatton was free. She drew a great highhacked chair up to the hearth and sat 4own, crossing her little feet on the fur cug, and looking dreamily into the glowtag fire. Perhaps it was because Lord Keith’s presence harmonized so perfectly with her thoughts that she gave no start of surprise when, ten minutes later, he came up to the tall mantelpiece, nnd gazed down at her with a very tender look as his blue eyes met her dreamy glance. “You eame home early,” she remarked, ■otieing that he had changed his shooting garb, and wore a loose brown velvet •ait which was both picturesque and becoming. , . “Yes,” he answered, in rather a low tone; "I left the others. I hoped to see you alone.” , . She began to tremble slightly; and her heart throbbed heavily; but she preserved her outward calm. Lord Keith saw that she put aside the hand screen she had been holding, and that the little jeweled Ungers were unsteady. „ “I do not wish to distress you, he •went on, with a tender intonation, hw handsome face very earnest, as he leaned forward in the firelight. "But I have been very patient, Barbara. It is three tong weeks since the earl gave me permission to speak to you on a subject veir wear my heart; but you have put me off; you would not let me tell you how dear you have been to me ever since I first met you. But my patience is exhausted wow, Barbara. 1 have borne the suspense •a long as I can bear it, and I have come go you for your answer, deer.” Barbara hesitated; she had grown very Cle now, and her lips were quivering. »rd Keith waited in silence, but eonft4ently. He knew all he had to offer, he felt that many a man iu his position •would have hesitated before offering Bar'bara Hatton what he offered her. He himself, in his family pride, had hesitated • little at first; but he loved her, and she •was very beautiful. “You know?” the girl said faintly, after more than one effort to speak; and her eyes, halt wistful, half proud, were raised to his. “And you—you do not mind?” “I know,” he answered, gently; and from his tonb the girl felt assured that he did mind. “I know, I love yon, and you will be my wife?” “You are generous,” she responded; ’•‘and I ” . “Be generous, too, my darling, he •truck in, leaving his chair nnd eoirfing •ver bo her side. “Give me the little hand ( want. Is it mine, Barbara?” he added •oftly, as she put her trembling fingers Into his- “Is it mine, dear?” k “If you care to have it,” Barbara whiskered tremulously, feeling as if heaven opened before her dim and dazzled , eyrw, and Lord Keith stooped and kissed * ■ the irttJc hand which rested in his, then v released it. A. As they stood thus a servant came ncrdKktbe hall and announced that a lady was asking for her—bogged to see her, Indeed, having walked from Stourton for the purpose. She gave her name as Miss will go to her, ’ the girl said; then, the servant went away, khe turned to Lord Keith with a charming affectation of humility. “May I go?" she asked, demurely.

“I suppose I must let you,” lie answered, with a long sigh. ‘‘Dismiss her as •oon as you can, darling, and couie back to me. 1 am jealous of every moment of your time which is glreu to any one else." .She smiled as she passed him and went "to the morning room, heedless that the - #nvelope and inclosure which the earl had . given her. which had fallen from her ; {and, had been caught by some of the . cascades of lace on her gown and was •till clinging to their frail support when •he crossed the lmll and entered the morning room.

CHAPTER VIII. '‘You wished to see me 7" ’'Barbara's low, languid voice had in it *• touch of haughtiness ns she spoke, and Iter visitor, who had been bending over a j photograph on a table, by which she stood, turned quickly with a start of «larm. She was a slender, fair-haired girl two or three and twenty, dressed in black; her face was small und thin, lighted by two gray eyes set rather widely •apart She had a small, nervous mouth, and Barbara thought that her gray eyes gave her a strange, startled look. She came forward timidly, looking at Barbara with surprised admiration as she •tood stately and beautiful In her tawny .plush gown. ‘‘Miss llatton?" she said, in a low, •weary tone. ‘‘Yes, 1 am Miss llatton! You wished to see me, did you not?" “If you please." There wus something so strange and depressed and nervous in her manner, that Barbara, looking at the small, aliabbily dressed black figure which contrasted •o forcibly with the costly if simple furniture of the room in which they stood, ■felt something like compassion. Her •Banner softened slightly when next she •poke. “Will you not ait down?" she said, graciously. “You must be very tirpd if you walked from Stourtnn. 1 think the servant said you had." "Yes, I walked,” the girl answered In « low voice, her eyes glancing at everything save Barliara’s face, which they •reined to avoid. “It is a long way.” The compassion lu Barbara’s face deepened. She sat down and motioned her visitor to a rfiair near the lire. “Con 1 do anything for you?" Barbara •then asked.

By Lottie Braham.

“I came to ask of you a great favor.” “Yes?” said Barbara, looking at her visitor with a kindly smile. “My name is Alice Courtenay,” continued her visitor. “I—l am acting at Stourton, at the Theater Royal.” Strive as she might, Barbara could not help the change which came into her voice as she remarked: “At the Theater Royal? Is that the principal theater at Stourton?” “Yes,” Miss Courtenay answered, quickly—she was looking at Barbara now, and seemed more at her ease—“the largest. It is a fine building.” “So I have heard,” said Miss Hatton, carelessly. “Only hoard?” the young actress exclaimed, in a disappointed tone. “Have you not boon to the theater then?” “No. We have been at Elsdale only a short time,” Barbara answered. “I\rny tell me what is it you wish me to do?” Miss Courtenay’s wandering gray eyes rested for a moment on Barbara’s face. “My mother Avas an actress,” she said slowly; “but she cannot act now; she is an invalid and dependent upon me, and-r” She paused, still 1 looking at Miss Hatton, who was very pale, and whose hand, as she replaced her cup on the gypsy table near her, was n trifle unsteady. “You want me to help you?” Barbara finished for her. "I shall be glad to do so. I ” “No; I do not ask you for money,” the actress put in quickly. “We are poor, of course; but we are not in need. What I want you to give me is your patronage. I am to have a benefit on Thursday next; do’you know what a benefit is, Miss Hatton?”

“Yes, certainly,” Barbara replied, unhesitatingly. “Then you know, too, perhaps, how important it is for me to have a good house,” Miss Courtenay continued rapidly. “If you would prevail upon Lord Elsdale to extend his patronage to me ” “And take tickets? Certainly. He will do so, I am sure.” “Not only take tickets,” the actress said quickly, “but allow me to announce that the performance is under his patronage and that you will be present. People will go to see you, Miss Hatton,” she added, hurriedly, “if they go for .nothing else.” “I can hardly credit that,” Barbara said, smiling; “but, if you will excuse me for a moment, I will ask the earl if he will allow me to accede to your request. We have a large house party just now, and I do not know whether it will be pleasant to our guests. I will do my best.” Barbara promised, as she turned and left the room; while Miss Courtenay, who had risen, went back slowly to her chair and sank down into it again.

“It is impossible,” she murmured, pushing her veil further back off her pale face; “he must be mistaken. She looks like a queen; and yet”—she slipped her hand into the bosom of her dress and took out a letter she had secreted there. It was the letter which Barbara had received, and which, having caught in the lace of her dress, had fallen unheeded by her to the floor. Miss Courtenay, unseen by Barbara, had picked it up and hidden it. “It is his handwriting and addressed to her,” she added, ns she examined it. She placed the envelope back in its hiding place, and, rising, began to move restlessly about the room, looking with envious eyes on the comfort nnd luxury about her, contrasting her own shabby form, reflected in one of the mirrors, with Barbara’s radiant loveliness and exquisite attire, nnd returning hastily to her seat, when the soft rustle of Barbara's skirts sounded on the polished oak without. She came in smiling. “The earl is quite willing to lot you use his name, if it be of any advantage to you to do so,” she said, grueiously. “And. although ho will not be present himself, I will come, Miss Courtenay; and several of our guests have also promised. Mr. Sinclair will see the manager to-morrow and procure places.” “And yor* will really come?” the actress asked, eagerly.

“Yes. I will come. I will not fail. What piny do you act?” " ‘The Lady of Lyons.’ ” ‘‘l am very glad. It is a favorite play of mine,” Miss Hatton remarked. “I have ordered a carriage to take you home," she added, kindly. "And perhaps you would like a few flowers to take to your mother.” In almost absolute silence Miss Courtenay followed her into the conservatries, while Barbara, with many .kindly questions about the invalid mother—who had no existence save in the actress’ imagina-tion-put together a great hunch of sweet flowers and gave them to Jipr with her prettiest smile; and perhaps it wa t liecause the flowers tilled both her hnuds that the actress feigned not to sec Barbara’s outstretched hand when she bade her farewell and left her to the care of the servants, who led her out to the waiting brougham which Miss Hatton had ordered to take her lau-k to Stourtou. Through the chill autumnal evening Miss Hatton’s visitor was driven rapidly toward the large and busy town of Stourton, where the lamps were all lighted, ynd the cuthedral chimes were sounding. At the tutsklrts she dismissed the carriage—see peed trouble them no further, being at linn.e. she told the servants, and, when | they had driven away, she hurtled nu foot to a small, mean-looking house in the heart of the town. .lust as Alice Courtenay stopped at the door, it was opened from within, and a man. coming out hurriedly, met her face 1 1 lace and uttered an exclamation of pleasure, at which the girl’s face brightened. “Well,” he asked, eagerly, “have you succeeded?” The tarnslent glenni of pleasure died out of the girl’s pale face. • Yes," she answered drearily, taking a sheet of paper from the folds of her gown, while a sob rose in her throat, "I have succeeded.” CHAPTER IX. The evening at the castle paused much ns other evenings had. 'l'here were cards in the card room for those who cared for them; there was music In the drawing room, and careless clmtter. Lord Keith’s sweet tenor voice rose, singing Olivette’s ballad with such expression that Lady Rose Parley whispered to him, smiljng. that it* sentiment evidently harmonised with his mood.

would hare been charming If Cap* tain Adams had not interfered with the harmony by crackling that tiresome newspaper and making subdued remarks ” she said, plaintively. “May one inquire what you have found so interesting in the Stourton Evening Star, Monsieur le Cantaine?” “The finest thing I ever read, by Jove!” promptly answered the young man, his face glowing wish admiration as he looked up from the newspaper. “Deserves the Victoria Cross if ever a man did!” he added, in irrepressible excitement. “Let me read it to you. Miss Hatton, may I? It is by long chalks the finest thing I ever heard of.” “Let us have it, by all means,” said Lady Rose Dariey, merrily, “I hope it is not poetry. Barbara, my dear, have you any objection? None? Then pray proceed, Captain Adams; we are all most eagerly attentive.” Lord Keith had moved half round on the music stool, letting one hand still linger on the keys as he turned his face toward Captain Adams. Lady Rose had assumed an attitude of comically subdued attention. Barbara had come nearer also, and stood with her fan unfurled, the soft lamplight gleaming upon the great pearls about her throat, and the silver threads in the folds of her gown. From her chair near the hearth Blanche Herrick looked at her with an angry glitter in her blue eyes, aud even in her jealous pain she could not deny the wondrous beapty of the girl who had supplanted her. With a slight tremor in his voice, the young officer read the paragraph which had excited his enthusiasm. It was an account of an almost everyday occurrence which had been raised from the commonplace by a brilliant display of heroism. The reporter of the Stourton Evening Star had had his soul stirred within him by the bravi* deeds he had witnessed, and in words eloquent from their simplicity he described the fire which had broken out in a many-storied house in one of the densely populated poorer parts of the city, a hojuse in the upper rooms of which children were shut up during the day by the fathers and mothers whose labors as bread-winners kept them out and forced them to leave their little ones alone for many long hours. Graphically the paragraph described the thronging people, the fierce flames, the little, terrified faces at the upper window, the hysterical swooning of mother, the father dazed and helpless with misery in the crowd below. Deliverance seemed impossible. And then what even the brave firemen dared not do one man in the crowd had done. An actor, Mark Robson, bad forced his way through the volumes of derase smoke to the room in which the children were, whither he had been led by the whining of a faithful little dog. The reporter went on to relate how Mark Robson had, at the risk of his life, saved the children, and then how, notwithstanding entreaties and remonstrances, burned, suffering, half stifled as he was, he had again risked his life with reckless gallantry to rescue the faithful little animal, and had staggered with him in his arms from tb*» burning building, to fall insensible in the street. Captain Adams’ voice was very husky as lie concluded his reading. The groups at the other end of the room, who had not been listening, were laughing and chatting. Lord Keith’s face was grave and moved as he turned to the piano; Lady Rose’s bright dark eyes were dim with tears. Barbara stood, her face rigid nnd colorless, her lips parted, staring straight before her with a fixed, unseeing gaze; then suddenly a great trembling seized he, her hands fell helplessly ait her side, the heavy white lids drooped, the room seemed to turn round and round, there was a sound of rushing water in her ears. „

“Barbara!" Miss Herrick’s voice unusually loud aud shrill, broke upon the Bilonee. “Look —she is fainting!” But something in the speaker’s tones dispelled the creeping faintness. Even before he could reach her, Barbara had raised her drooping head and smiled with pallid, trembling lips and dim eyes at Lord Keith, who had sprung to her side. "It is nothing,” she said rather faintly, but quite calmly. “1 am not ill. The account has shocked me—that is all. It mnst have been terrible! He —he is very brave. I—l hope he is not hurt.” "Heroism becomes ‘plivk’ in this nineteenth century,” observed a gray-haired artist who was staying at the castle painting a portrait of Lord Elsdale’s niece. “Well, whatever it is called, such conduct is not so common in so selfish su age as ours.” “And it is equally noble under any name,” Lady Rose declared, her face flushed with enthusiasm. They talked of the occurrence for some little time longer, the remainder of Lord Elsdnlo’s guests joining them, anxious to hear what had caused such excitement. Barbara took no part In the conversution, but stood with blanched checks and parched lips, seeing the whole scene clearly, trembling, quivering in every limb, thrilled to her inmost being with the heroism of the deed they discussed; and, remembering her own debt to him who had done this noble act, she felt ashamed of her own disloyalty, at her own cowardice; that she dared not own that debt before them all. "It was like him to go back and save the dog.” she said to herself. “He was always pitiful to all thiugs.” "You seem dazed, Bnb.” Blanche Herrick’s mocking voice said; and, as Barbara raised her eyes with a start, she met the steel-blue eyes tixod upon her face ! with a keen and unkindly scrutiny. "One would think you knew this hero, aud had a personal interest in him." As Barbara looked up she felt rather than saw that Isml Keith’s eyes were tixod upon her face, and that their anxious tenderness of expression was (hanging slowly into questioning surprise. "Is one only to honor heroism when it is shown by personal friends?” she asked, with tlie languid haughtiness which became her so well, as she looked Mis* llerrick full in the face. "No, of course not," Blanche answered, with sonic embarrassment. "Rut you seemed so moved, 1 thought you knew him." Barbara mnde no reply, but stood proud and indifferent, toying with the white fan in her hand. She spoke so easily, so carelessly, so frankly, that not even Blanche Herrick suspected that she did not speak the truth; hardly were the words uttered when she repented the base, cowardly falsehood with which she had stained her lips; and the bitter tears which she shed that night could do nothing to efface the memory of it. (To be continued.)

FARMERS CORNER

Good Guernsey Cow. The cut shows the Guernsey cow, Miss Bobolink, 2157, A. G. C. C., bred and owned by Mr. N. I. Bowditch, South Fraipingham, Mass. From October 1, 1896, to October 1, 1897, she gave 12,437 pounds of milk, average test 4.8 per cent, butter fat. This equals 596.98 pounds butter fat, or 696.46 pounds butter for one year. Comparing this performance with that of other

MISS BOBOLINK.

animals of the same breed, It is seen that Miss Bobolink has made the second best milk and butter record of any Guernsey, and has nearly equalled the best record. The best records now stand: fl *-« rj U M O, <L <—« 0> = . a.B 8 *j „ jj . = " t-H . s" B ® x) &, «S Lily Alexandre (1059) 12,856 7.2 • • Bretonne (3660) ..11,218 5.47 602.91 007 Miss Bobolink (2157) 12,437 4.8 596.98 690.46 Fantlne Second (3790) 9,748 5.84 516.60 602.60 •Only one test. In addition to the above performance, Miss Bobolink was milked three months longer, and gave from October 1. 1897, to January 1, 1898—2,480.5 pounds milk, which tested 5.3 per cent, butter fat, or 153.37 pounds butter, making the total record for the fifteen months: 14,917.5 pounds mi1k—849.83 pounds butter. The picture from which the cut was made was taken January 23, 1898, or after fifteen monhs’ work, yet on that day she gave twenty-one pounds milk.

Growing Corn After Corn. In all Eastern corn growing the usual rotation never allows two corn crops to succeed each other without several years intervening. The corn is always planted on clover or grass sod, and after it some small grain follows for one or perhaps two years when the field is again seeded, and after two or more years the corn comes in the rotation again. So if corn smut appears in one crop it has no chance to propagate except what is blown into adjoining fields, or is carried to the barn and so iisseminated through the manure pile. In the West the growing of corn after corn on the same land was continued so long that the fields were filled with smut and the land had to be seeded flown so as to allow the smut spores to die out. Growing corn after eorn also developed the burrowing worm, which is hatched in the tips of ears while tenter, and eats its way into the corn while in its succulent stage. This worm has sometimes appeared in Eastern States where a great deal of corn is grown. It is probably true that no crop can be exclusively grown in any section without sometime finding an insect enemy or some fungous disease to destroy it. So though two crops of eorn will not exhaust the soil more than would a crop of small grain after the corn, and in most eases not so much, it is not best to put them together. The corn stubble la necessarily left naked during the following winter, and Is therefore subjected to more freezing and thawing and more washing away on the soil than If the land were seeded quickly after it.— American Cultivator. A Twin Cucumber. Mr. Alex. Weir, Ravensworth P. 0.. Muskoka, Ont., writes to the Montreal Herald and Star, as follows: 1 have

A TWIN CUCUMBER.

takeu the liberty of forwarding you a twin cucumber which I raised this year, and it Is the first I have met with in all my growing as a gardener. The Great American Hog, An organization of German meat linporters favorable to the American hog shows that in fifteen years there were 3,003 cases of Illness from trichinae and 207 deaths. Of these, 1,242 cases and 102 deaths were from the eating of European pork examined in Germany. There was not one ease against the American product, and a reward of S23S has been offered for c single Instance of trlehinaed American pork.— Butchers and Packers’ Magazine. Hurvcitinic Applen. The harvesting of apples is one of the most Important duties eonnected with the crop. The time has gone by wheu apples could l>o shaken from the trees or picked up from*the ground ns windfalls. The host success in keeping them over winter is when not a single apple In a barrel Is bruised or Injured In any manner. Just as soon as the skin Is broken the apple begins to deray, and for tha*. w«jou thug 'nust >)

carefully picked by hanq and handled In a manner to prevent the slightest injury as the decay of one apple will soon affect all. Apples that are not perfectly sound when harvested should uot go into barrels, but be made into cider.

Geese Must Graze. , The goose is as much a grazing anlmale as a sheep or a cow. Green stuff being Its natural diet, the transition In winter to grain exclusively Is more violent than in the case of hens, which, In a state of nature, do not feed principally upon herbs, but upon insects, seeds and a little Of course, geese will not starve in winter and early spring, even if allowed nothing but grain, but the greediness with which they will devour such fresh food as apple parings, cabbage, potatoes, etc., shows the urgency of their need for It. In cider-m*aking time a few bushels of seedling apples, that will keep well, should be laid by in the cellar for the geese. It is worth all the trouble just to see the evident enjoyment with which they eat them, to say nothing of the promotion of their thrift. Bet the young goslings out on some fine grass plot and see them pick. At night they will come up with their crop and neck full up to their mouth. Give them grass.—farmer's Voice. Begin Right with Turkeys. They are as easy to raise as chickens if one has the right stock. But most people pick out all the largest birds to market at Thanksgiving and Christmas and keep the small ones, with the impression, I suppose, that they will grow if given time. This is a great mistake, as in a flock you will always find a few better developed, bigger-boned birds, and these invariably have the constitution we need for breeding purposes. To make a success select the best hens in the flock; good deep, blocky birds, with big bone and short legs, and dispose of the long-legged, loose-built ones. I find the Bronze the hardiest, but a cross with the wild would perhaps still further improve them. The biggest drawback with the wilrf cross is, they are hard to keep near the home and are easily frightened. Having selected your breeding stock, which is best to do In the fall, winter them and let them run out all the time.—Alex. Johnston.

LiOg Chicken .House. Here 1b the plan of chicken coop built of logs. First lay the sill logs and toenail on the corners, making the logs 2 by 4 by 8 feet and 2 by 6 by 8 feet. Spike these two together and brae*

SUBSTANTIAL POULTRY HOUSE.

from the Inside so they will be perfectly plumb. Now start putting up thelogs, one side at a time, or build all sides evenly as you go. Drive a spike into yowr 2 by 4 and 2 by G in sills and into your logs as fast as you go, so as to hohi then# fn place. You can put a round log in the corner 6 inches In dib ameter and 8 feet long. After the house has been built, spike the 2 by 4 onto this and also the plate logs. Peel the logs,—A. L. Lord, American Agriculturist. How to Kill Lice on Hogs. Hogs will invariably take to the water w'hen given an opportunity, especially when troubled with lice. If the animals have no wallow, one should be provided. This Is easy to accomplish!. Simply dig a hole and fill with water and the hogs will do the rest. When the wallow Is formed pour over its surface kerosene oil varying in amount according to size of wallow. The mud and water thus treated becomes sure death to the lice on hogs—J. L. Irwin, Farm Talk. Much has been said of late in regard to the wbolcsomeness of apples, aud a Paris specialist says that women who want to have clear complexions .ought to eat three or four apples a day. They act on the liver. As an evidence of how rapidly the forests of Pennsylvania are being cut away It 1* cited that In 1888 Westmoreland County had 133.717 ucres of timber land, and within the past ten years tl*ere lias been a decrease of over 30,000 of this timber area. Clay makes a better stable Moor than planks, for it contains a little dampness which conduces to good feed, and the horse finds irregularities In Its surface, and by placing the heels on the higher surface the tendoua are relaxed, giving them needed rest, while In plank floors the slnnt Is backward, making the animal stand with the tendous always on a strain.—Farm Journal. The editor of- the Wool and Cotton Reporter, Mr. Bennett, of Saugus, Mass., says that his farm in Freedom. Me., which he purchased and stocked with sheep a few years ago, cut when he began about forty-five tons of bay of nn Inferior quality. This year H lina cut nearly 200 tons of the highest quality. People laughed at him wheu he began, hut now he is doing most of the laughiug. Experiments In feeding and in computing the value of eggs show that if no estimate Is made for labor one dozen eggs can be produced at a cost of about 0 cents fdr food, or about % cent per egg. If all of the food allowed to hens wus converted Into eggs the profit on a dozen eggs would Ik* large, oven when prices an* very low. but much depends on whether the hens convert the food Into flesh or support of the bod leu,

Missed a Good Thins;.

“They say they have got a way of making buttons and combs and things out of sour milk,” said the old farmer to the man with the newspaper. “You refer to celluloid,” was the reply. “I dunno what other name they give It, but that feller might hev made a. heap o’ money up our way if he’d only known it.” “In what way?” “In gittin’ up a patent to work that sour milk off on slimmer boarders I”

What Cuba's Loss Means to Spain.

The loss of Cuba means to Spain the loss of the very sustenance of the nation. In the same way the loss of your appetite means starvation to your body, li any reader of this notice wants to fully enjoy hearty meals, we can recommend Hostetter s Stomach Bitters. It cures indigestion, dyspepsia and constipation.

Learning Through Hardships.

“Es de average young man,” said Uncle Eben, “ud be willin’ to go froo as much hardship ter git useful knowledge as he did learnin’ ter smoke his fust cigar, dar wouldn’ be nigh ez many regrets in dishere life.”—Washington Star.

Go South This Winter.

For the present winter season the Louisville and Nashville Railroad Company has improved its already nearly perfect through service of Pullman Vestibuled Sleeping Cars and elegant day coaches from Cincinnati, Louisville, St. Louis and Chicago, to Mobile, New Orleans and the Gtalf coast, Thomasville, Ga., Pensacola, Jacksonville, Tampa, Palm Beach and other points in Florida. Perfect connection will be made with steamer lines for Cuba, Porto Rico, Nassau and West Indian ports. Tourist and Home-Seekers' excursion tickets on sale at low rates. Write C. P. Atmore, General Passenger Agent, Louisville, Ky., for particulars.

Turkish Sultans.

Of the thirty-eight Sultans who have rulefcl the Ottoman Empire since the conquest of Constantinople by the Turks thirty-four have died* violent deaths.

How’s This:

We offer One Hundred Dollars Reward for any case of Catarrh that cannot be cured by Hall’s Catarrh Cure. F. J. CHENEY &CO.. Props., Toledo. O. We the undersigned have known F. J. Cheney for the last 15 years, and believe him perfectly honorable In all business transactions and financially able to carry out any obligation made by their firm. West & Tbuax, Wholesale Druggists, Toledo. O. Waldibg, KiJfNAJf & Makvin, Wholesale Druggists. Toledo, O. Hall’s Catarrh Cure Is takenkinternally. acting directly upon the blood and mucous surfaces or the system. Price 75c. per bottle. Sold by all Druggists. Testimonials free.

Simply Preposterous.

Managing Editor—Here, this won't do. Dramatic Editor—What’* wrong? Managing .Editor—You say in your account of that new play that Jones made a hit as the Spanish cavalier.

It's Your Own Fault.

How long have you had lame back? It's your own fault. St. Jacobs Oil would have cured it promptly, and will Eure it now, no matter how ioog it has emained neglected.

Products of Seaweed.

A Norwegian engineer has invented a process for producing paper glue, dressing gum ami soap front seaweed.

Lane’s Family Medicine

Moves the bowels each day. In order to be healthy this is necessary. Acta gently on the liver and kidneys, Gore* sick headache. Price 25 and 50c. Burdens become light when cheerfully borne.—Ovid.

Soldiers From the War Bring the germs of malaria, fevers and other diseases, which may prove contagious in their own families. Hood’s Sarsaparilla is a special boon to soldiers, because it eradicates all disease germs, builds up the system and brings back health. Every returned soldier and every friend and relative of soldiers should take Hood’s Sarsaparilla America'sSeeatest Medicine. $1; sir for S 3. Hood’s PINs cure sick hmidaciw. 25 coat*. THE EXCELLENCE OF SYRUP OP FIGS is due not only to the originality and simplicity of the combination, but also to the care and skill with which it is manufactured by scientific processes known to the California Fie Srßur Co. only, and we wisli to impress upon all the importance of purchasing the true and original remedy. As the genuine Syrup of Figs is manufactured by the California Fig Syrup Co. only, a knowledge of that fact will assist one in avoiding the worthless . imitations manufactured by other parties. The high standing of the California Fig Syrup Co. with the medical profession, and the satisfaction which the genuine Syrup of Figs has given to millions of families, makes the navie of the Company a guaranty of the excellence of its remedy. It is far in advance of all other laxatives, as it acts on the kidneys, liver and bowels without irritating or weakening them, and it does not gripe nor nauseate. In order to get its beneficial effects, please remember the name ot the Company— CALIFORNIA FIG SYRUP CO. Oak UDIITULL On NEW TGKK. IK