Rensselaer Semi-Weekly Republican, Volume 20, Number 64, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 14 April 1899 — Page 2

The Convict's Daughter.

BY WILKIE COLLINS.

CHAPTER Vl.—(Continued.) Miss Wigger tapped her on the shoulder «nd pointed to the door. “Are you well enough tooee your way out?” she asked. Then to him: “I might have told you that 1 don't allow my house to be made an ■Office for the engagement of governesses. JLs it is, I merely remind you that your ’Carriage is at the door." He took the only course that was open <o him; he took his hat. Sydney turned away to leave the room. Xdnley opened the door for her. “Don’t ■be discouraged,” he whispered as she pass■ed him; “you shall hear from me.” Having said this, he made his parting bow to ’the school mistress. Leaving the house, 'Linley slipped a bribe into the servant’s iband. “I am going to write to Miss Westerfield,” he said, “will you see that she <ets my letter?” “That I will!” At the first stationer’s shop that he passed, he stopped the carriage and wrote his •letter. “I shall be glad indeed if I can offer you a happier life than the life you are deeding now. It rests with you to help ene to do this. Will you send me the ad■dress of your parents, or the name of any 'friend with whom I can arrange to give Fm a trial as governess to my little girl? am waiting your answer in the neighborhood. I add the name of the hotel at which I am staying.” The stationer’s boy—inspired by a private view of half a crown, set off at a cun—and returned at a run with a reply: “I have neither parents nor friends, and I have just been dismissed from my employment at the school Will you permit ane to see you, for a few minutes only, at your hotel? Indeed, indeed, sir, I am mot forgetful of what I owe to my respect «or you, and my respect for myself. I •only ask leave to satisfy you that I am •quite unworthy of the interest which you have been pleased to feel in S. W.” Sn those sad words, Sydney Westerfield ■announced that she had completed her •education. CHAPTER VII. Not far from the source of the famous ■river, which rises in the mountains be•tween Loch Katrine and Loch Lomond, •and divides the’ Highlands and the Lowlands of Scotland, travelers arrive at the •venerable gray walls of Mount Morven; jand, after consulting their guide books, <sk permission to see the house. If these strangers on their travels had been permitted to ascend to the first floor, ■and had been invited to say good night to Mrs. Linley’s pretty little daughter, they would have seen the stone walls of Sitty’s bed chamber snugly covered with velvet hangings, they would have trod on « doubly laid carpet; they would have looked at a bright little bed, of the last ■new pattern, worthy of a child’s deeply •delicious sleep; and they would only have ■discovered that the room was three hundred years old when they had drawn aside the window curtains and had revealed the Adamantine solidity of the outer walls. Or, if they had found their way next into Mrs. Linley’s sitting room, here again a transformation scene would have revealed more modern luxury, presented in the perfection which implies restraint within the limits of good taste. But on this occasion, instead of seeing the head of a lovely little child on the pillow, side by side with the head of her doll, they would have en•countered an elderly lady of considerable «ize, fast asleep, and snoring in a vast Armchair, with a book on her lap. The lady, composed under the soporific Influence of literature, was a person of importance in the house —holding rank as Mrs. Linley’s mother; and being otherwise noticeable for having married two busbands and survived them both. The first of these gentlemen—the Right Honorable Joseph Ormond—had been a member of Parliament. Mrs. Linley was bis one surviving child. He died at an Advanced age, leaving his widow well provided for. After hesitating for some little time, Mrs. Ormond accepted the proposal of the ugliest and dullest man among the ranks of her admirers. Why Ahe became the wife of Mr. Presty, a ■merchant enriched by the sale of vinegar, •she was never able to explain. Returning to the sitting room after bidding Kitty good night, Mrs. Linley discov■ered the old lady asleep, and saw that the book on her mother’s lap was sliding off. Before she could check the downward movement, the book fell on the floor, and Mrs. Presty woke. “Oh, mamma, lam so sorry. I was just too late to catch it.” “It doesn’t matter, my dear. I dare say I should go to sleep again if I went on with my novel." Mrs. Presty consulted her watch. “Your husband is no longer in London,” she announced; “he has begun his journey home. Give me a railway guide, and I’ll tell you when he will be here to-morrow.” But before this could be done a servant ■entered with a telegram for Mrs. Linley. Her mother, however, took it and read it. Her face assumed an expression of stern . Alatrust. She shook her head. V -“Bead jt yourself,” she then said, “and Itomember what I told you, when you trailed your husband to find a governess tor my grandchild. I said: You don’t baow men as l do. I hope you may not dive to repent it." , Mrs. Linley was too fond- of her husband to let this pass. “Why shouldn’t I ■trust him?” she asked. “He was going to London on business—and it was an excel“Bead your telegram,” Mrs. Presty repeated, with dignity, “and judge for yourLinley read: “I have engaged a governess. She will travel in the same train with me. I think ought to prepare you to receive a perl gjA -whom you may be surprised to see. She is very young and very inexperienced; tmlike the ordinary run of goveroe*ses. When you hear how cruelly the poor girt has been used, I am sure you with her as I do.”

ried, is he really afraid that I shall be jealous? Mamma! Why are you looking so serious?” Mrs. Presty took the telegram from her daughter and read extracts from it with indignant emphasis of voice and manner. “Travels in the same train with him. Very young, and very inexperienced. And he sympathizes with her. Ha! I know the men, Catherine —I know the men!” CHAPTER VIII. Mr. Herbert Linley arrived at his own house in the forenoon of the next day. Mrs. Linley running out to the head of the stairs to meet her husband, saw him approaching her without a traveling companion. “Where is the governess?” she asked —when the first salutes allowed her an opportunity to speak. “On her way to bed, poor soul, under the care of the housekeeper,” Linley answered. “Anything infectious, my dear ; Herbert?” Mrs. Presty inquired, appearing at the breakfast room door. Linley addressed his reply to his wife: “Nothing more serious, Catherine, than want of strength. She was in such a state of fatigue, after our long night journey, that I had to lift her out of the carriage.” Mrs. Presty listened with an appearance of the deepest interest. “Quite a novelty in the way of a governess,” she said. Linley drew a deep breath of relief when he was left alone with Ms wife. “What makes your mother so particularly disagreeable this morning?” he inquired. “She doesn’t approve, dear, of my leaving it to you to choose a governess for Kitty.” Linley mentioned the advertisement, and described his interview with the school mistress. Having next acknowledged that he had received a visit from Miss Westerfield herself, he repeated all that she had been able to tell him of her father’s wasted life and melancholy end. Really interested by this time, Mrs. Linley was eager for more information. Her husband hesitated. “I would rather you heard the rest of it from Miss Westerfield,” he said—“in my absence.” “Why, in your absence?” ■‘Because she can speak to you more freely, when I am not present. Hear her tell her own story, and then let me know whether you think I have made a mistake. I submit to your decision beforehand, whichever way it may incline.” Mrs. Linley rewarded him with a kiss. If a married stranger had seen them, at that moment, he would have been reminded of forgotten days—the days of his honeymoon. “And now,” Linley resumed, “suppose we talk a little about ourselves. I haven’t seen my brother yet. Where is Randal?” “Staying at the farm to look after your interests. We expect him to come back to-day. Ah! Herbert, what do we not all owe to that dear good brother of yours! There is really no end to his kindness. The last of our poor Highland families, who have emigrated to America, have had their expenses privately paid by Randal. The wife has written to me, and has let out the secret. There is an American newspaper among the letters that are waiting your brother’s return, sent to him as a little mark of attention by these good, grateful people.” Having alluded to the neighbors who had left Scotland, Mrs. Linley was reminded of other neighbors who had remained. She was still relating events of local interest, when the clock interrupted her by striking the hour of the nursery dinner. What had become of Kitty? Mrs. Linley rose and rang the bell to make inquiries. On the point of answering, the servant looked round at the open door behind him. He drew aside, and revealed Kitty, in the corridor, hand in hand with Sydney Westerfield —who timidly hesitated at entering the room. “Here she is, mamma,” cried the child. “I think she’s afraid of you; help me to pull her in.” Mrs. Linley advanced to receive the new member of her household, with the irresistible grace and kindnes swhich charmed every stranger who approached her. “Oh, it’s all right,” said Kitty. “Syd likes me, and I like Syd. What do you think? She lived in London with a cruel woman who never gave her enough to eat. See what a good girl I am! I’m beginning to feed her already.” Kitty pulled a box of sweetmeats out of her pocket and handed it to the governess with a tap on the lid, suggestive of an old gentleman offering a pinch of snuff to a friend. “My dear child, you mustn’t speak to Miss Westerfield in that way! Pray excuse her,” said Mrs. Linley, turning to Sydney, with a smile; “I am afraid she has been disturbing you in your room.” Sydney’s silent answer touched the mother’s heart; she kissed her little friend. “I hope you will let her call me Syd,” she said gently; “it reminds me of a happier time.” Her voice faltered; she could say no more. Kitty explained, with the air of a grown person encouraging a child: “I know all about it, mamma. She means when her papa was alive. She lost her papa when she was a little girl like ,me. I didn’t disturb her. I only said: ‘My name’s Kitty; may I get up on the bed?’ And she was quite willing; and we talked. And I helped her to dress.” Mrs. Linley led Sydney to the sofa, and stopped the flow of her daughter’s narrative. The look, the voice, the manner of the governess had already made their simple appeal to her generous nature. When her husband took Kitty’s hand to lead her with him out of the room, she whispered as he passed: “Yon have done quite right; I haven’t a doubt about it.” The two ladies were alone. Widely as the lot in life of one differed from the lot in life of the other, they presented a contrast in personal appearance, which was more remarkable still. In the prime of life, tall and fair—the beauty of her delicate complexion and her brilliant blue eyes, rivaled by the charm of a- figure which had arrived at its mature perfection of development—Mrs. Linley sat side by side with a frail little dark-eyed crea- “ # ■ - -i * -s i

and want of kindness. The gentle mistress of the house wondered sadly, if this lost child of misfortune was capable of seeing the brighter prospect before her that promised enjoyment of a happier life to come. Sydney told all the details of the sad history of her young life. When she had finished she looked round, and started to her feet. “Oh, here’s a lady! Shall Igo away?” The curtains hanging over the entrance to the library were opened for the second time. With composure and dignity, the lady who had startled Sydney entered the room. “Have you been reading in the library?” Mrs. Linley asked. And Mrs. Presty answered:’' “No, Catherine; I have been listening. Introduce me to Miss Westerfield,” Mrs. Presty proceeded coolly. . Mrs. Linley showed some hesitation. What would the governess thing of her mother? Perfectly careless of what the governess might think, Mrs. Presty crossed the room and introduced herself. “Miss Westerfield, I am Mrs. Linley’s mother. And I am, in one respect, a remarkable person. When I form an opinion, and find it’s the opinion of a fool, I am not in the least ashamed to change my mind. I have changed my mind about you. Shake hands.” Sydney respectfully obeyed. “I had the worst possible opinion of you,” Mrs. Presty resumed, “before I had the pleasure of listening on the other side of the curtain. If I had been ashamed to listen behind those curtains, there is no injury that my stupid prejudices might not have inflicted on this unfortunate girl. As it is, I have heard her story, and I do her justice. Count oh me, Sydney, as your friend.” “Now we are alone, Catherine,” she added, when the door had closed on the governess, “I have a word of advice for your private ear. We have much to anticipate from Miss Westerfield that is pleasant and encouraging. But I don’t conceal it from myself or from you, we have also something to fear.” “To fear?” Mrs. Linley repeated. “I don’t understand you.” “First obstacle in the way Of her moral development, her father —tried, found guilty, and dying in prison. Second obstacle, her mother—an unnatural wretch, who neglected and deserted her own flesh and blood. Third obstacle, her mother’s sister —being her mother over again in an aggravated form. People who only look at the surface of things might ask what we gain by investigating Miss Westerfield’s past life. We gain this: We know what to expect of Miss Westerfield in the future.” “Oh, mamma, I never knew you so unjust before. You can’t have heard all that Miss Westerfield said to me. You don’t know her, as I know her. So patient, so forgiving, so grateful to Herbert.” “So grateful to Herbert.” Mrs. Presty looked at her daughter in silent surprise. There could be no doubt about it; Mrs. Linley failed entirely to see any possibilities of future danger in the grateful feeling of her sensitive governess toward her handsome husband. At this exhibition of simplicity, the. old lady’s last reserves of endurance gave way; she rose to go. “You have an excellent heart, Catherine,” she remarked; “but as for your head ” “Well, and what of my head?” “It’s always beautifully dressed, my dear, by your maid.” W’ith that parting shot, Mrs. Presty took her departure by way of the library. Almost at the same moment, the door of the breakfast room was opened. A young man advanced and shook hands cordially with Mrs. Linley. CHAPTER IX. Self-revealed by the family likeness as Herbert’s brother, Randal Linley was nevertheless greatly Herbert’s inferior in personal appearance. His features were in no way remarkable for manly beauty. In stature, he hardly reached the middle height; and, young as he was, either bad habit or physical weakness had so affected the upper part of his figure that he stooped. “Have you seen a new face among us since you returned?” were his sister-in-law’s first words. Randal answered that he had seen Miss Westerfield. The inevitable question followed. What did he think of her? “I’ll tell you in a week or two more,” he replied. “No! tell me at once.” “I doa’t like trusting my first impressions; I have a bad habit of jumping to conclusions.” “Jump to a conclusion now, to please me.” Randal smiled and gave way. “Your governess,” he replied, “looks out of health, and strikes me as being insignificant and ugly. Let us see what our fine air and our easy life will do for her. He went into the library and returned with his letters. “This will amuse Kitty,” he said, handing to his sister-in-law a New York newspaper, to which she had already referred in speaking to her husband. Mrs. Linley examined the engravings—and turned back again to look once more at an illustration which had interested her. A paragraph on the same page caught her attention. She had hardly glanced at the first words before a cry of alarm escaped her. “Dreadful news tor Miss Westerfield!” she exclaimed. “Read it, Randal.” He read these words: “The week’s list of insolvent traders includes an Englishman named James Bellbridge, formerly connected with a disreputable saloon in this city. Bellbridge is under suspicion of having caused the death of his wife, in a fit of delirium tremens. The unfortunate woman had been married, for the first time, to one of the English aristocracy—the Honorable Roderick Westerfield—whose trial for casting away a ship under his command excited considerable interest in London some years since. The melancholy circumstances of the case are complicated by the disappearance, on the day of the murder, of the woman’s young son by her first husband. The poor boy is supposed to have ran away in terror from his miserable home, and the police are endeavoring to discover some trace of him. It is reported that another child of the first marriage is living in England. But nothing is known about her.” “Serious news for Miss Westerfield, as you say,” Randal resumed. “And, as I think, serious news for us. Here is a mere girl—a poor, friendless creature—absolutely dependent bn our protection.” It was thought necessary to break the news to Miss Westerfield, and this Miss Linley did herself as gently as possible. Randal awaited his sister-in-law’s return from the governess’ * UIULa* US* AVOCaivU v* 11

dal anticipated, Mrs. Linley returned. "“Has it been very distressing?" he asked, seeing the traces of tears in her eyes. “There are noble qualities,” she answered, “in that poor ill-used gorl. All she asked was to be left in her room for the rest of the day. I feel sure of her resolution to control herself; and yet I should like to encourage her if I can. Her chief sorrow must be —not for the mother who has so shamefully neglected her—but for the poor little brother, a castaway, lost in a strange land. Can we do nothing to relieve her anxiety?” “I can write," Randal said, “to a man whom I know in New York, a lawyer in large practice.” “The very person we want! Write — pray write by to-day’s post!” The letter was dispatched. It was decided—and wisely decided, as the result showed—to say nothing to Sydney until the answer was received. Randal’s correspondent wrote back with as little delay as possible. He had made every inquiry, without success. Not a trace of the boy had been found. The one event that had happened, since the appearance of the paragraph in a New York newspaper, was the confinement of James Bellbridge in an asylum as a madman under restraint, without hope of recovery. (To be continued.)

Effect of Crime on Trade.

“The bromo-seltzer trade Is busted temporarily,” remarked a down-town druggist. “I suppose as many people get up with headache in the morning as ever, but they don’t drown their sorrows in bromo-seltzer, since the Cornish poisoning case came out ‘Guess I’ll get a bottle of seltzer,’ remarked a man in here yesterday. “ ‘Bromo-seltzer?’ queried a friend, as if the very idea gave him a cramp. “ ‘Er—well, no, I guess I won’t’ remarked the first man, as if he recollected something. And he didn’t buy it Curious how people are influenced by imagination. I’ll bet there Isn’t an anonymous box of candy sent once a day in Chicago now. The Bodkin case knocked that People who send candy sign their names to it. Why, one day at luncheon I stepped in and ordered a box of candy sent home. When I got there that evening my wife was in a state of excitement bordering on hysterics. ‘Who do you think could have done this, Henry,’ she whispered. ‘l’ve saved the wrapper and the string, and I wouldn’t touch a piece of that candy for a million dollars.’ “Then the sausage trade was knocked into a cocked hat for nearly a year by the Luetgert trial. I know every time my wife suggested sausage for breakfast that winter, I kind of wished she wouldn’t mention it.” —Chicago Inter Ocean.

Filipino Women.

Much has already been written concerning the women of the Philippines, for the subject is engaging. For all their dark faces they have figures the grace of which is accentuated by the very garments tijey wear. They have lustrous dark eyes and luxuriant black hair, in which they take great pride; it is long, thick, and glossy, anointed with cocoanut oil, cleaned and washed with lime juice, and usually worn in a coil or knot held by a golden comb or ornamented pins. Hats and bonnets are unknown among the Filipinos, so no doubt many an American husband wishes he lived here. The native women have finely shaped feet that never knew a stocking; they wear low slippers of an Oriental pattern, sometimes wooden shoes. The dress of a Filipino woman usually consists of a single garment with wide sleeves; a plna-cloth handkerchief is generally worn around the neck, and every one wears a rosary or a crucifix. Housekeeping in the native section is quite primitive in its details. Lovemaking, courtship and marriage are here conducted in the manner common in Oriental lands, the lover serving the father of his future wife. Fifteen years is the customary age for marriage here in the Philippines.— Manila letter to Collier’s Weekly.

Women Workers in England.

The prevalent idea has been for some time that the typical English woman is, above all things, domestic, and it has been mentioned that the pushing, bustling, fine de siecle American girl might profitably study the shrinking, cringing femininity of her English cousins. The American woman has also proudly claimed that she was the pioneer in women’s occupations, and that there are more trades and professions open to women in America than anywhere else on the globe. A book just published in England, upon perusal, will soon take this conceit out of her. Among the numerous occupations may be noted the following: Feminine architects, farmers, plumbers, bankers, chemists, contractors' and gardeners. Women drivers, cab drivers, pilots q,nd letter carriers figure conspicuously.

The Harp of Brian Boru.

What professes to be the original harp of Brian Boru is preserved in the library of Trinity College, Dublin; but its history, which is now more clearly traced does not bear out the popular tradition as to its origin. It belonged, probably, to the Illustrious sept of O’Neill, and was, in all likelihood, made for one of the two noted prelates of that name. It is a curious fact that it was last played on by one of that tardily, though at that time its real origin was not suspected; for the eminent Arthur O'Neill woke its slumbering music at Limerick in 1760, and it has ever since remained silent

Burial in Africa.

In certain parts of Africa It is considered a mark of disrespect to bury out of doors at all. Only slaves are treated In such unceremonious fashion. The honored dead are buried under the floor of the bouse.

Largest Bronze Statue.

QA Yh.r>Aij., L «i ii; Innirnnf »«- Jrecersourg nas tne largest oronze

WHITE HOUSE MAIL.

NUMEROUS LETTERS ON EVERY CONCEIVABLE SUBJECT. They Are Sent to the President in' Hope* of Eliciting Hi* Favor—Poet*, Crank*, School Children and Beggar*' in the Unending Liat. Washington correspondence:

THE number of letters that find their way into the White House is enormous. These letters are written \ on every conceiyaSk ble subject and the SB writers embrace .ajT nearly every class ftjgl and condition of people. Formerly HRS the bulk of these letters were unann*' 1 - swered, but the Wl " l, ‘ r policy of President Kt'ra McKinley is to an- [|[ JR swer each missive, i il» no matter how humble the author

or insignificant the subject. Sending mail to the White House in the hope that it will come beneath the President’s eyes is a proceeding that does not do the interested person any good. An applicant for the postmastership in a small town, for instance, sends his application and indorsements to the White House, under the impression that the President has time to review all the papers in the case. The President never sees the papers. They are promptly forwarded to the Postofflce Department, where, in the course of time, they are looked over by an assistant, possibly the Postmaster General. At the same time the White House writes a letter to the office seeker explaining what has become of his papers. Frequently he delights in the receipt of this letter, which is so diplomatically worded that it generally conveys the idea that the President had personally examined the papers and forwarded them himself. The applicant for an army position, for a clerkship in*the treasury or any other department does the same as the man seeking the postoffice. His papers are at once forwarded to the proper department. Appeals for pensions, which are almost numberless and frequently touching, go to the pension office without the President ever seeing them. It is doubtful if the President himself has any idea of the mass of letters which are handled by his clerks. The President sees the letters from a certain class of contributors. Either this or he sees a brief of the contents. Letters which go to him are from officials in high

M'KINLEY'S PERSONAL MAIL.

life or from personal friends who make requests for appointments or for other matters. Poets are the most voluminous of the contributors to. the White House. They break loose without much provocation and flood the executive mansion with their effusions. The sinking of the Maine was a favorite theme with the sentimental. The battle of San Juan Hill, the sinking of Cervera’s fleet, Dewey’s achievements in the Philippines, in fact, nearly every incident of the war with Spain and the events which have followed have supplied subjects for barrels of rhyme. The news- . paper offices cannot be induced to publish these supposed gems, and they are promptly worked off on the White House, the would-be poet receiving a formal note saying that his production has been received. The note reads something like this: “The President directs me to say your poem has been received, etc.” This is fuel to the fire, as the poet supposes the President has really seen his masterpiece. He exhibits the letter to his friends as an evidence of the appreciation felt in high quarters for his work and immediately composes more poetry for White House edification. Next to the poets come the cranks; then the importuner for money or recognition; then school children whose teachers suggest that they write compositions pn certain subjects and send them to the White House, included in the crank list are the men and women who knew exactly how Spain could be whipped; all about thq proper medical frttentiffi for jfflrjroops; what our foreign policy should be, efc.f those who have boons which will benefit all mankind, and the person who hears that the President is sick and sends a decoction which he guarantees will bring about a speedy cure. Several Western papers some time ago published a story that the President would have to give up smoking cigars and turn to the pipe. In consequence a total of 400 or 500 different kinds of pipes were sent to the White House. The corncob was hewn Into many pipe shapes and sent to the President to enjoy. A. man in Europe who heard the story sent a box of curious clay pipes. The variety of pipes received was wonderful. These things all go into the storeroom of the executive mansfon. Ignorant white and colored people address Uncle Sam at the White House. They believe such a man really exists and that he presides at the White House , and over the destinies of the nation. The letters do not often refer to the White House. The envelopes frequently read: “Unkil Psalm, Washington, D-G” The postal clerks forward these letters to the White House. Sometimes the letters contaiB t to’the’ Bnd are likely to relate to pensions 'or’to .ray « navy mail era. xqey sometimes appeal I

Wall Paper and Diseases.

“Dr. Charnel of Cornell University,” sbserves the Kansas City Times In an editorial article March 8, “haa made an announcement which la calculated to cause a slump in the market for stock of the .wan paper trust. The doctor says that he has made chemical analysis of a large number of samples of wall paper, and in nearly all of them has found arsenical poisons, in some of them the poison existing In surprising quantities. Ete was led to make the investigation by having brought to his attention a number of cases of sickness which were traced to paper covered rooms. It is. to be presumed that, in the future, houses, in order to be classed as ‘strictly modern,’ will have to have frescoed walls. “While on the subject of waU paper, the CorneU scientist would confer a favor upon mankind by pursuing his investigation furtner. It would be interesting as well as instructive to know what per cent of the inmates of insane asylums owe their mental condition to their having been compelled to live in rooms whose walls were covered with realistic portraitures of an opium smoker’s dream. Some of the designs which are alleged to make living rooms cozy and homelike resemble nothing so much as the efforts of a dissipated artist to reproduce the experiences of an attack of the delirium tremens.” Alabastine, the rock-base cement for coating walls, is free from these objections. It is sanitary and costs less than wall paper.

Bacteria in Hailstones.

Several varieties of bacteria have been discovered in freshly fallen hailstones. Two of them appear to be new, according to their discoverer, F. 0. Harrison, of Guelph, Ontario, while others are manifestly of terrestrial origin; and must have been carried up into the clouds by wind, or ascending air-currents.

Chewing Gum Epidemic.

The chewing gum epidemic which seemed to be under control for a season or two, appears to have broken out again with renewed virulence.

“Trust Not to Appearances." That which seems hard to bear may be a great blessing. Let us take a lesson from the rough weather of Spring. It is doing good despite appearances. Cleanse the system thoroughly; rout out all impurities from the blood with that greatest specific, Hood's Sarsaparilla. Instead of s eepl ss nights, with consequent irritablene-8 aad an undone, tired feeling, you wi 1 have atone and a bracing air that will enable you to enter into every day’s work with pleasure. Remember, Hood’s ntmer disappoints. Goitre—” Goitre was so expensive in medicalattendance that I let mine go. It made me ■ perfect wreck, until I took Hood’s Sarsaparilla, which entirely cured me.” Mbs. Thomas Jonxs. ISO South St., Utica, N. Y. Running Sores-” Five years ago my affliction came, a running sore on my leg, causing me great anguish. Hood’s Sarsaparilla healed the sore, which has never returned.’* Mbs. A. W. Babbitt, 89 Powell St., Lowell, Mass Hood’s Pills euro liver ills; non-irritating and the only cathartic to take with Hood’s An Excellent Combination. The pleasant method and beneficial effects of the well kjnown remedy, Sybup or Figs, manufiotured by the California Fig Syruv Co., illustrate the value of obtaining the liquid laxative principles of plants known to be medicinally laxative and presenting them in the form most refreshing to the taste and acceptable to the system. It is the one perfect strengthening laxative, cleansing the system effectually, dispelling colds, headaches and fevers gently yet promptly and enabling one to overcome habitual coqstipatiofi permanently. Its perfect freedom from evefy dojectionable quality and subktancej and is| acting on the kidneys, liver and bowels, without weakening or irritating them, make it the ideal laxative. ■—ig In the process of manufacturing figs are used, as they are pleasant to the taste, but the medicinal qualities of the remedy are obtained from senna’ and other aromatic plants, by a method known to the California Fig Sybuf Co. only. In order to get its beneficial effects and to avoid imitations, please remember the full name of the Company printed on the front of every padmge. xxnwmuf rr* MCX xxwiroßXL w.r For sale by all Druggists.—Price 50c. per bottle. ' SHOOT WnKitrjwHr I Uso tyAuLiMt ftwwwi Sicts. I