Rensselaer Semi-Weekly Republican, Volume 20, Number 66, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 21 April 1899 — Page 2

The Convict’s Daughter.

BY WILKIE COLLIN.

CHAPTER X. J In the autumn holiday time friends in the south, who happened to be visiting | Scotland, were invited to stop at Mount on their way to the Highlands; •nd were accustomed to meet the neigh- ■ hors of the Linleys at dinner on their arthral. The time for this yearly festival had now come round again; the guests Were in the house; and Mr. and Mrs. Linley were occupied in making their arrangements for the dinner party. Sydney’s agitation at the prospect of meeting the ladies in the drawing room added a charm of its own to the flush on : her face. Shyly following, instead of leading her little companion into the room, she presented such a charming appearance of youth and beauty that the ladies jpaused in their talk to look at her. Some few admired Kitty’s governess with genarous interest; the greater number doubt‘•d Mrs. Linley’s prudence in engaging a girl so very pretty and so very young. When the gentlemen came in from the -dinner table, Sydney was composed anough to admire the brilliant scene, and to wonder again, as she had wondered already, What Mr. Linley would say to her aew dress. He looked at her with a momentary terror of interest and admiration which made Sydney gratefully and guiltlessly attached to him, tremble with pleasure; he oven stepped forward as if to approach her, checked himself, and went back again «mong his guests. The one neglected person whom he never even looked at again, was the poor girl to whom his approval was the breath of her life. Friendly Mrs. Mac Edwin touched her arm. “My dear, you are losing your pretty color. Are you overcome by the heat? Shall I take you into the next room?” Sydney expressed her sincere sense of the lady’s kindness. Her commonplace excuse was a true excuse —she had a headache; and she asked leave to retire to her .room. Approaching the door, there she found herself face to face with Mr. Linley. He had just been giving directions to one of the servants, and was re-entering the drawing room. She stopped, trembling and ■cold; but, in the very intensity of her wretchedness, she found courage enough Co speak to him. “You seem to avoid me, Mr. Linley,” •he began, speaking with an air of formal respect, and keeping her eyes on the ground. “I hope—” she hesitated, and desperately looked at him —“I hope I haven’t done anything to offend you?” In her knowledge of him, up to that miserable evening, he constantly spoke to her with a smile. She had never yet seen him so serious and so inattentive as he was now. His eyes, wandering round the loom, rested on Mrs. Linley—brilliant and beautiful, and laughing gayly. Why was he looking at his wife with plain, signs of ■embarrassment in his face? Sydney piteously persisted in repeating her innocent ■question: “I hope I haven’t done anything to offend you?” “My dear child, it is impossible that you should offend me; you have misunderstood and mistaken me. Don’t suppose—pray don’t suppose that I am changed or can over be changed toward you.” He emphasised the kind intention which these words revealed by giving her his hand. But the next moment he drew back. There was no disguising it, he drew back as if he wished to get away from her. She noticed that his lips were firmly closed and his eyebrows knitted* in a frown; be looked like a man who was forcing himself to submit to some hard necessity that he hated or feared. . Sydney left the room in despair. He had denied in the plainest and kindest terms that he was changed toward her. Was that not enough? It was nothing Uke enough. The facts were there to apeak for themselves; he was an altered man; anxiety, sorrow, remorse—one or the other seemed to have got possession of him. Judging by Mrs. Linley’s gayety of manner, his wife could not possibly have been taken into his confidence. What did it mean? Oh, the useless, hopeless question! And yet, again and again she asked herself: What did it mean? The dinner party came to an end; the neighbors had taken their departure; and the ladies at Mount Morven had retired for the night. On the way to her room Mrs. Presty knocked at her daughter’s door. “I want to speak to you, Catherine,” she said. “I am the bearer of good news. When we Ind it necessary to get rid of Miss Westerfield ” Mrs. Linley’s indignation expressed itself by a look which, for the moment at least, reduced her mother to solence. “Do you mean to tell me, mamma, that you have said to Herbert what you said just now to me?” “Certainly. I mentioned it to Herbert in the course of the evening. He was excessively rude. He said. ‘Tell Mrs. Mac Edwin to mind her own business.” “What has Mrs. Mac Edwin to do with it?” asked Mrs. Linley. “If you will only let me speak, Catherine, I shall be happy to explain myself. You saw Mrs. Mac Edwin talking to me at the party. That good lady’s head—a feeble head, as all her friends admit—has been completely turned by Miss Westerfield. If, by any lucky chance, Miss Westerfield happens to be disengaged in the future, Mrs. Mac Edwin’s house is open to her—at her own time and on her own terms. I promised to speak to you on the subject, and I perform my promise. Think over it; I strongly advise you 4o think over it.” Even Mrs. Linley’s good nature declined to submit to this. “I shall certainly not think over what cannot possibly happen,” •he said. “Good night, mamma.” Mrs. Presty passed through the dressing room on her way out. The way to her •WD bed chamber led her by the door of Sydney’s room. She suddenly stopped; the door was not shut This was in itself • Suspicious circumstance. A strict sense , ief fiSty conducted Mrs. Presty next into the room; and even encouraged her to approach tfie bed on tiptoe. The bed was tkj —<»■■». siii miln («• rnrtr »vlr* T

If the house had not been full of guests, Mrs. Presty would have raised an alarm. As things were, the fear of a possible scandal, which the family might have reason to regret forced her to act with caution. Meditating in the retirement of her own room, she arrived at a wise and wary decision. Opening the door by a few inches she placed a chair behind the opening in a position which commanded a view of Sydney’s room. Wherever the governess might be, her return to her bed chamber, before the servants were astir in the morning, was a chance to be counted on. One man in the smoking room appeared to be thoroughly weary of talking politics. That man was the master of the house. He was the last to retire —fevered by the combined influences of smoke and noise. His mind, oppressed all through the evening, was as ill at ease as ever. Lingering, wakeful, and irritable in the corridor, he stopped at the open door, and admired the peaceful beauty of the garden. The sleepy servant, appointed to attend in the smoking room, asked if he should close the door. Linley answered: “Go to bed and leave it to me.” Still lingering at the top of the steps, he was tempted by the refreshing coolness of the air. He took the key out of the lock; secured the door after he had passed through it; put the key in his pocket, and went down into the garden. CHAPTER XI. With slow steps Linley crossed the lawn; his mind gloomily absorbed in thoughts which had never before troubled his easy nature; thoughts heavily laden with a burden of self-reproach. Linley entered the shrubbery, because it happened to be nearest to him. The instant afterward he was startled by the appearance of a figure emerging into the moonlight from the further end of the shrubbery, and rapidly approaching him. “Who is out so late?” he asked. A cry of alarm answered him. The figure stood still for a moment, and then turned back as if to escape him by flight. “Don’t be frightened,” he said. “Surely you know my voice?” The figure stood still again. He showed himself in the moonlight, and discovered —Sydney Westerfield. “You!” he exclaimed. She trembled; the words in which she answered him were words in fragments. “The garden was so quiet and pretty— I thought there would be no harm—please let me go back—l’m afraid I shall be shut out ” She tried to pass him. “My poor child,” he said, “what is there to be frightened about? I have been tempted out by the lovely night, like you. Take my arm. It is so close in here among the trees. If we go back to the lawn, the air will come to you freely.” She took his arm; he could feel her heart throbbing against it. Kindly silent, he led her back to the open space. Some garden chairs were placed here and there; he suggested that she should rest for awhile. “I’m afraid I shall be shut out,” she repeated. “Pray let me go back.” He yielded at once to the wish that she expressed. “You must let me take you back,” he explained. “They are all asleep at the house by this time. No! no! don’t be frightened again. I have got the key of the door. The moment I have opened it, you shall go in by yourself.” She looked at him gratefully. “You are not offended with me now, Mr. Linley,” she said. “You are like your kind self again.” They ascended the steps which led to the door. Linley took the key from his pocket. It acted perfectly in drawing back the lock; but the door, when he pushed it, resisted him. He put his shoulder against it, and exerted his strength helped by his weight. The door remained immovable. Had one of the servants—sitting up later than usual after the party, and not aware that Mr. Linley had gone into the garden—noticed the door, and carefully fastened the bolts on the inner side? That was exactly what had happened. “Can’t we make them hear us?” asked Sydney. “Quite impossible. Besides—” He was about to remind her of the evil construction which might be. placed on their appearance together, returning from the garden at an advanced hour of the night; but her innocence pleaded with him to be silent. He only said, “You forget that we all sleep at the top of our old castle. There is no knocker to the door, and no bell that rings upstairs. Come to the summer house. In an hour or two more we shall see the sun rise.” As a mark of respect on her part, she offered the armchair to him; it was the one comfortable seat in the neglected place. He insisted that she should take it; and searching the summerhouse, found a wooden stool for himself. “What should I have done,” she wondered, “if I had been shut out of the house by myself?” Her eyes rested on him timidly; there was some thought in her which she shrank from expressing. She only said: “I wish I knew how to be worthy of your kindness.” Her voice warned him that she was struggling with strong emotion. Linley treated her like a dhild; he smiled, and patted her on the shoulder. “Nonsense!” he said gayly. “There is no merit in being kind to my good little governess.” She took that comforting hand—it was a harmless impulse that she was unable to resist—she bent over it, and kissed it gratefully. He drew his hand away from her as if the soft touch of her lips had been fire that burned it. “Oh,” she cried, “have I done wrong?” “No, my dear—no, no." . Then* was an embarrassment in his manner, the inevitable result of his fear of himself if he faltered in the resolute exercise of self-restraint, which was perfectly incomprehensible to Sydney. Completely misunderstanding him, she thought he was reminding her of the distance that separated them in social rank. A fit of hysterical sobbing burst its way

through her last reserves of self-control; she started to her feet, and ran out of the summer house. Alarmed and distressed, he followed her instantly. She was leaning against the pedestal of a statue in the garden, panting, shudder- I ing, a sight to touch the heart of a far less sensitive man than the man who now approached her. “Sydney!” he said. “Dear little Sydney?” She tried to speak to him in return. Breath and strength failed her together; she would have fallen if he had not caught her in his arms. Her head sank faintly backward on his breast. He looked at the poor little tortured face, turned up toward him in the lovely moonlight. Again and again he had honorably restrained himself —he was human; he was a man—in one mad moment it was done, hotly, passionately done —he kissed her. For the first time in her maiden life a man’s lips touched her lips. All that had been perplexing and strange, all that had been innocently wonderful to herself in the feeling that bound Sydney to her first friend, was a mystery no more. Love lifted its veil, nature revealed its secrets, in the one supreme moment of that kiss. She threw her arms round his neck with a low cry of delight—and returned his kiss. “Sydney,” he whispered, “I love you!” She heard him in rapturous silence. Her kiss had answered for her. At this crisis in their lives they were saved by an accident; a poor little common accident that happens every day. The spring in the bracelet that Sydney wore gave way as she held him to her; the bright trinket fell on the grass at their feet. The man never noticed it. The woman saw her -pretty ornament as it dropped from her arm —saw, and remembered Mrs. Linley’s gift. Cold and pale—with horror of herself confessed in the action, simple as it was—she drew back from him in dead silence. He was astounded. In tones that trembled with agitation, tie said to her: “Are you ill?” “Shameless and wicked,” she answered. “Not ill.” She pointed to the bracelet on the grass. “Take it up; I am not fit to touch it. Look on the inner side.” He remembered the inscription: “To Sydney Westerfield, with Catherine Linley’s love.” His head sank on his breast; he understood her at last. “You despise me,” he said; “and I deserve it.” “No; I despise myself. 1 have lived among vile people; and I am vile like them.” She moved away a few steps with a heavy sigh. “Kitty,” she said to herself. “Poor little Kitty!” He followed her. “Why are you thinking of the child,” he asked, “at such a time as this?” She replied without returning or looking round; distrust of herself had inspired her with terror of Linley from the time when the bracelet bad dropped on the grass. “I can make but one atonement,” she said. “We must see each other no more. I must say good-by to Kitty—l must go. Help me to submit to my hard lot—l must go.” “I must ask you to submit to a sacrifice of your own feelings,” he began. “When I kept away from you in the drawing room last night—when my strange conduct made you fear that you had offended me —I was trying to remember what I owed to my good wife. I have been thinking of her again. We must spare her a discovery too terrible to be endured, while her attention is claimed by the guests who are now in the house. In a week’s time they will leave us. Will you consent to keep up appearances? Will you live with us as usual, until we are left by ourselves?” “It shall be done, Mr. Linley. I only ask one favor of you. My worst enemy is my own miserable, wicked heart. Oh, don’t you understand me? I am ashamed to look at you.” Not a word more passed between them until the unbarring of doors was heard in the stillness of the morning, and the smeke began to rise from the kitchen chimney. Then he returned and spoke to her. “You can get back into the house,” he said. “Go up by the front stairs, and you will not meet the servants at this early hour. If they do see you, you have your cloak on; they will think you have been in the garden earlier than usual. As you paas the upper door draw back the bolts quietly, and I can let myself in.” She bent her head in silence. He looked after her as she hastened away from hhn over the lawn; conscious of admiring her, conscious of more than he dared realise to himself. With his sense of the duty he owed to his wife penitently present to his mind, the memory of that fatal kiss still left its vivid impression on him. “What a scoundrel I am!” he said to himself as he stood alone in the summer house, looking at the chair which she had just left. CHAPTER XII. Ou the evening of Monday in the new weok, the last of the visitors had left Mount Morven. The next day was Kitty’s birthday, and while they were all in the breakfast room presenting their gifts to the child Linley took occasion to whisper to Sydney: “Meet me in the shrubbery in half an hour.” incapable of hearing what passed between them, Mrs. Presty could see that a secret understanding united her son-in-law and the governess. She beckoned Randal to join her at the further end of the room. “I want you to do me a favor,” she began. “Observe Miss Westerfield and your brother. Look at them now.” Randal obeyed. “What is there to look at?” he inquired. "They are talking confidentially; talking so that Mrs. Linley can’t hear them. Look again. Randal fixed his eyes on Mrs. Presty, with an expression which showed his dislike of that lady a little too plainly. A few moments later all except Mrs. Presty and Randal went into the garden. “My daughter’s married life is a wreck,” she burst out, pointing theatrically to the door by which Linley and Sydney Westerfield had retired. “And Catherine has the vile creature whom your brother picked up in London to thank for it! Now do you understand me?” “Lees than ever,” Randal answered, “unless you have taken leave of your senses.” They were both now sitting with their backs turned to the entrance from the library to the drawing room. “I won’t trouble you with my own impressions,” Mrs. Presty went on: “I will be careful only to mention what I have seen and heard. If you ref use to believe me I refer yon to the guilty persons themselves.” She bad just got to the end of those introductory words, when Mrs. Linley returned, by way of the library, to fetch j

a forgotten parasol. She advanced a step and took the parasol from the table. Hearing what Randal said, she paused, wondering at the strange allusion to her husband. i “Yes,” said Mrs. Presty to Randal; “I mean your brother and your brother’s love —Sydney Westerfield.” Mrs. Linley laid the parasol back on the table and approached them. She never once looked at her mother; her face, white and rigid, was turned toward Randal. To him. and to him only, she spoke. “What does my mother’s horrible language mean?” she asked. “Can’t you see,” said Mrs. Presty to her daughter, “that I am here to answer for myself?” Mrs. Linley still looked at Randal, and still spoke to him. “It is impossible for me to insist on an explanation from my mother,” she proceeded. “No matter what I may feel, I must remember that she is my mother. I ask you again—you who have been listening to her —what does she mean?” Mrs. Presty’s sense of her own importance refused to submit to being passed over in this way. “However insolently you may bshave, Catherine, you will not succeed in provoking me. Your mother is bound to open your eyes to the truth. You have a rival in your husband’s affections; and that rival is your governess. Take your own course now; I have no more to say.” With her head high in the air—looking the picture of conscious virtue —the old lady walked out. (To be continued.!

Helping the Curate.

A good story is being told at the expense of a young curate who has recently been appointed to a back country parish. It was his first wedding, and he was terribly nervous. The bridegroom, a burly fellow, smiled encouragingly, and audibly remarked that “everybody had to tarn,” when the cleric made his first' few blunders. Matters got serious when the curate, turning to the smiling bridegroom, asked: “Wilt thou have this woman as thy wedded husband?” The bride tittered, but the clergyman, with a very red face, tried again: “Wilt thou have this man to thy wedded woman?” There was a general titter, and even the bridegroom looked a trifle ruffled. There was a look of fierce determination in the curate’s eye as he loosened his collar and proceeded: “Wilt thou have this husband —ahem! Wilt thou have this wedding—Wilt thou ■” "'At this the bridegroom interfered. “Aw doan't know wot yer wants me to hev,” he remarked, “but aw coom here for her,” bringing his horny hand .down on the bride’s shoulder, “an’ aw’ll hev her or nowt.”—London Tit-Bits.

Patience and Courtesy Pay.

Good nature, or cheerfulness, or a willingness to oblige, or whatever you choose to call it, has always been of use in social life. Now it seems it Is a factor in business, and actually has a commercial value. A few months ago a man came to Boston for the purpose of establishing headquarters for the sale of a specialty in underwear. When he was ready to engage his salespeople he just made a tour of the large department stores; he would go to a counter and ask for some trifling thing, appearing very hard to suit all the while. If the saleswoman attending him got indifferent or impatient, that settled it; he walked away and she had, without knowing it, frowned on her own good fortune. If, on the other hand, he found a clerk patient and courteous to the end, although he bought nothing, he at once set about securing her services for his store, offering her a salary considerably in advance of the one she was then receiving.—Boston Transcript

Electrical Calls to Prayer.

A friend whom good fortune has taken to Cairo for the season writes to tell me of the curious occurrence that accompanied the arrival of the great Mohammedan fast of Ramadan a few weeks ago. The pious Moslem starts to afflict himself when the new moon appears. While awaiting the exact moment the grand kadi holds a big reception and men are sent to the highest minarets of the mosques to announce the appearance of the moon and commencement of the fast. This year the new moon was first seen from Assiout, and the news w'as sent to Cairo over the telegraph wires. Thereupon the fast was inaugurated by the beating of drums, the firing of salutes from the citadel and the dispatch of further talegrams all over the country to announce the tidings. It is very curious that so conservative a faith as Mohammedanish should accept the good services of a modern Invention like electricity.

Are Pennies Unlucky?

A New Orleans paper the other day gave an account of a conductor'on one of the street cars who refused to accept five coppers as fare from a passenger. Why are conductors so averse to receiving pennies? The principal reason is that pennies will not be taken from the men at the auditor’s office. Conductors cannot turn them in as part of their receipts. Many colored persons consider pennies unlucky. I saw an old Southern mammy remonstrate with a conductor because he gave her five pennies in change, and when he refused to take them back she threw them on the seat and left them behind her when she left the car. Many actors and actresses also look upon pennies as bringing them bad luck and often throw them away.—New York Herald.

Parts of Solomon’s Temple.

The chapel of St. Helena at Bethlehem contains forty-four marble columns, which were taken from Mount Moriah and supposed to have been in the porches of Solomon's temple.

Grain Elevator Waste Being Used.

The utilisation of grain elevator waste for sheep and cattle food has given rise to a new industry in the Northwest. The waste brings $7 a ton.

Private Postoffice.

The German Emperor haS a little postofflee of his own, with officials detailed especially to handle the voluminous mail matter that comes every day addressed to him. All letters are classified under the three heads—“private,” “official” and “Immediate.” Private letters are handed over to the Emperor unopened, those marked “official” land in the civic cabinet of the Kaiser if they contain petitions by civilians, while those of a military character go to the military cabinet. Chiefs of- these two departments make all the necessary Inquiries regarding the communication, and then prepare the answers in accordance with the regulations for official letters. These answers are taken to the Emperor, who expresses his approval by affixing his signature. Answers are then dispatched by special messengers to their destination. The messengers used in this service are the most trustworthy men who can be found.

Swallowed His False Teeth.

A man recently swallowed his false teeth and it drove him mad. Stomachs will stand a great deal, but not everything. If yours is weak try Hostetter’s Stomach Bitters. It cures stomach troubles, as well as malaria and fever and ague. It is strongly recommended at this season of the year. All druggists keep it.

Down Dawson’s Main Street.

Along the thawing bog called the main street, littered and odorous from sanitary neglect, were two rows of saloons and gambling halls, with mining brokers’ offices and the stores of shrewd speculators In food supplies, who always had one can of condensed milk for $2.50, one can of butter for $5, and one pound of sugar for $1.50, and assured you that they were the last in the country. To look out across the flat toward the mountains was to see scattered cabins and piles of tin cans, which at once let one into the culinary secrets of an isolated community, composed largely of men. At the restaurants bacon and beans and coffee cost $2.50.—“A Winter Journey to the Klondike,” in Scribner’s.

Try Grain-O! Try Grain-O!

Ask your Grocer to-day to show you a package of GRAIN-O, the new food drink that takes the place of coffee. The children may drink it without injury as well as the adult. All who try it, like it GRAIN-0 has that rich seal brown of Mocha or Java, but it is made from pure grains, and the most delicate stomach receives it without distress. % the price of coffee. 15c. and 25 cts. per package. Sold by all grocers. The receipts at the Turin Exposition, held last summer, amounted to $120,000 in excess of the expenditures. No sooner was this result made known than the Italian government sent in a tax bill demanding 10 per cent, of the profits.

Salzer’s Seed Corn.

Does your seed corn test, Bro. Farmer? Balser’s does—lt’s northern grown, early and good for 80 to 150 bu. per acre! Send this notice and 16c for 8 corn samples and low prices to Salzer Seed Co., La Crosse, Wis. <c.n.)

Athletic Courtship.

Ella—Where was it George proposed to you last week? • • Essie—At a hop. Ellar—And you accepted him? Essie —At a jump.—New Orleans Times-Democrat

Lane's Family Medicine

Moves the bowels each day. In order to be healthy this is necessary. Acts gently on the liver and kidneys. Cures sick headache. Price 125 and 50c. It may serve as a comfort to us in all our calamities and afflictions, that he who loses anything and gets wisdom by it is a gainer by the loss.—L’Estrange.

To Cure a Cold in One Day

Take Laxative Bromo Quinine Tablets. All druggists refund the money if it fails to cure. 25c. The genuine has L. B. Q. on each tablet. If some people ever get to be worth their weight in gold they will have to use a lot of anti-fat.

ONE reason Mrs. Pinkham's treatment helps women so promptly is that they have confidence in her. Through some of the many thousands of Mrs. Pinkham’s friends an ailing woman will be. led to write to Mrs. Pinkham at her home in Lynn, —i,— Mass., and will tell her symptoms. The reply, made without charge of W* CrflW “ KUEtKI any kind, will bear such evidence UCt WVt of knowledge of the trouble that K belief in her advice at once inspires q QJRE This of itself is a great help. '• ; Then the knowledge that women only see the letters asking for advice and women only assist Mrs. Pinkham in replying makes it easy to be explicit about the little things that define the disease. Mrs. Euza Thomas, of 634 Pine St, Easton, Pa., writes: •• Dear Mrs. Pinkham—l doctored with two of the best Es in the city for two and had no relief until I the use of your remedies, ouble was ulceration of the womb. I suffered something terrible, could not sleep nights and thought sometimes that death would be such a relief. To-day lam a well woman, able to do my own work, and have not a pain. I used four bottles of Lydia E. Pinkham's Vegetable Compound and three packages of Sanative Wash and cannot thank you enough for the good it did me." Mrs. M. Stoddard, 268, Springfield, Minn., s: >ear Mrs. Pinkham—For about tour yean 1 was a great sunerer from female troubles. I had backache all of thetime, no appetite, pains in stomach, fainting spells, was weak and my system was completely run down. I also had falling of womb so bad that I could scarcely walk across the floor. After taking two bottles of your Vegetable Compound and one box of Losengers, can say I am cured."

“He Who Pursues Two Hares Catches Neither/' Said a well known young man about town, **Z tried for years to bum the candle at both ends, in the pursuit of pleasure while trying to attend to business. My blood, stomach and kidneys got into a wretched state and, it seemed that I could not carry the burden any longer, “ But now my rheumatism has gone, my courage has returned, and all on account of th at marvel, Hood’s Sarsaparilla, which has made me a picture of health. New I’m in for business pure and simple.” Hip Disease— “l had running sores for eight years on my hips. I was confined to my bed at times and at others used crutches. Hood’s Sarsaparilla cured my hip and gave me permanent health.” Ollib J. Abchbb, 139 Dudley Street, Dayton, Ohio. Indigestion.— “l now have a good appetite. eat well, sleep well, and my dyspepsia and indigestion have left me. The reason is I took Hood's Sarsaparilla, which entirely cured me. ■ I am Baggage Master on the B. O. Bailread.” Thomas Csui, 119 Carr St, Sandusky, Ohio. SaMafavAtta Hood's Pills cure liver iUs, the non-irritating anfi the only cathartic to take with Hood’s Sarsaparilla.

Her Logic.

Bickers—Women are such illogical creatures! Morgan—Granted; but what’s the trouble this time? Bickers—My wife threatens to sue a young widow down our way for alienating my affections, and she has always declared I never had an affection for her.—Boston Transcript.

Worth Trying.

A farmer recently wrote his name and postoffice address on a postal card and addressed it simply to “DEERING, CHICAGO.” By return mail he received from the Deering Harvester Company a catalogue with over 100 fine half-tone illustrations, containing a picture of the largest factory in America, a “twine booklet” on the subject of binder twine, a copy of the Deering Farm Journal, and a personal letter—all for a postal card. Try it.

Poor Tommy!

Teacher—What’s the matter with you to-day, Tommy? You seem to be nervous and uneasy. Tommy—l am. Yesterday was my pa and ma’s wooden wedding, and nearly all the neighbors sent ’em shingles.— Chicago News.

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. Waldino, Kxnnan & Mabvin, Wholesale Druggists, Toledo, O. Hail’s Catarrh Cure Is taken Internally, acting directly upon the blood and mucous surfaces or the system. Price 75c. per bottle. Sold by all Druggists. Testimonials free.

The Proud Father.

“My boy says his ambition is to grow up to be a man just like his father.” “I wouldn't let that worry me. When I was your boy’s age I had a burning desire to be a pirate.”—lndianapolis Journal.

$15.00 Per Week.

We will pay a salary of $15.00 per week and expenses for mau with rig to introduce Perfection Poultry Mixture and Insect Destroyer in the country. Address, with stamp, fttarxcrios Manwactubixo Co., Parsons, Kansas. Sometimes a noble failure serves the world as faithfully as a distinguished success.—Dowden. I never used so quick a cure as Piso’s Cure for Consumption.—J. B. Palmer, Box 1171, Seattle. Wash., Nov. 25, 1898. If you would succeed stick to your business with the glue of Industry.