Saturday Evening Mail, Volume 18, Number 24, Terre Haute, Vigo County, 3 December 1887 — Page 7

ITHE _MAIL.

A

PAPER FOR

THE

PEOPLE.

[OOI'YBIOHTKO.]

Walter Brownfield

—OB—

THE MYSTERY OF PRESTON FLAT.

BY JOHN R. MUSICK.

CHAFFER XIV.

r.ITHER HEATH

Oil

To Walter, who could not brook ihiluy, or iwH'tivity, the useless lingering at the village "had made him nervous. He replied: "Bu\ I'liii. we ha! nothing to detain us then* your attempt to get a warrant for tiio*e names was a failure."

In coni*M) it v.\*m.M said Bill, with /another m. "1 I-.tinW lie'd not give warrant

for

The

us

He

two hicli names who nez

fur the usl thousand years stood for iioboily." Then why did you demand the warrants?" "O, don't ye knowP" ••No, I don't." "Why, hoy, ve've hardly got yer eye teeth cut in I lie' business, yit."

Walter started and looked Bill in the face. A feeling of horror seized him, he knew not why but the fiendish griu on Bill's face seemed to freeze Jiini with terror. "I hardly understand you," after a moment's silence. ••Well, «ir, I kin explain. I went there to see of the justice know'd anything about the rubbers, an1 ef ho had any suspicions."

answer puzzled Walter almost

much as

Bills entire conduct had.

now not iced that they had left the main road, and were entering a narrow wooiI path. Tho sun wa down mid il was almost dark. "What are you going through the forest fori'" asked Walter. "1 mean to make a near cut an' git home sooner bv it."'

Walter was silenced by tho answer. The forest was dark, wild and lonesome, and would have struck a timid person with terror. Night was upon them before they had gone a mile through the dark wood. llill kept up a conversation as idle as it was uninteresting. "You got onto' that scrape slick, my boy," he finally said, with his hideous face near our hero. "What, scrape?" asked Walter. "O. at Queenstowii."

Waller felt his heart givo one big leap to hist throat, yet he feigned ignorance. ••You speaK in r! Idles, Bill I oan't understand you." •Wa'll I kin maki myself plain as ye want, me to." "1 wish vou would." "Wa'll, it's the little trouble ye had nt Joe Brewster's or more egzactly with the olllcers of the law, while ye wt re in Joe Brewster's store."

Waller

was

What could

he

words!

mean by those strange

Once

before

lie

terance to

fc,

i©

had given ut­

them,

and Walter was as

much mystified now as then. He was, soon to learn their fearful import, and realise what it was to bo a pal of Bill Hartin. "Yo sec," continued Bill, 'Tvo bin there an' know nil about it I wouldn't blow on ye 'cause yo might turn round and blow on me.* "I know nothing on you," said Waller. "Now, I'm goin' to tell you somethin' on us soon, 'cause its gittin' about the time we was understmidia* each other."

Walter trembled and was silent "I'm satisfied yer a man o' courage, nerve an' pluck, an' told our eapt in so, soon as I see'd ve. He is jist the man to pry r*»unil an' lav plans an' tell us how to lay our hands on the swag tho easiest" "1 certainly do not understand your meaning." "Ye want me to bo a little bit |lainer?" "Yes." "Yer won't squcalf" ••No." **8war ye'll never toll." *'Ido." "Ye hev courage!* *•1 hope so." ••Ye hev had a hard time all yer •feP" ••Yes, indeed." "Wouldn't ve like to Ihr east. *&* be fkJa, an" her heaps o' mon*y?r' "Certainly." ••Wa'll, sir, we're goin* to m^ke-pilea money together." "I should not object if it was gotten feonorablr." "Any way Is honor'ble—thatls brave and the wealth o' this world don't |»*lon^to one man any more'n anoth-

man that gits more nor his •r not 'totted to her it. The rich Data his the poor one^

itfto

anf ef one man'll cheat another out money an* hoard it up, it's no more'n right to go an' take back what belongs to ye. The money belongs to the world we're its children an' hev aright to take our own." "Yon do not mean you would rob for your share?" asked Walter, trembling with astonishment. "Some folks call it that, and that is jist what I mean."

Walter was calm, now his faint suspicions were fully confirmed and after a few moments he asked: "Did

Sbrnian

XlfSHOXOR.

It was late the evening when Bill Martin left Bushville, and Walter's "patience was completely exhausted.

Oue excuse after another for delay, .followed until the sun jvas almost down before tliey recrossed the bridge pn their return.* "We needn't be in sich a hurry,"

F: id Bill, as they started down the ]»road road at a sweeping trot, "leas 'Tia-k Hawkins don't care, and its none o' o!o Miles' Uicinuss how long we stay."

ou assist in the attempt to rob the Calat Mr. Miles?' "Wait 'till ye are one o1 us an I'll tell ye all."

At this moment they drove through a thicket of hazel, and emerged into an open space, where stood an old deserted cabin. Here Walter beheld half a dozen large dark men standing as if waiting for them to come up. "There's our band," said Bill, in a whisper, "brave an' true as steel they'll kill any one who turns traitor. Act wi' us, an in a month ve'li be rich enough to buy old Miles' farm an' marry his purty gal refuse an' we'll turn you over to the officers from Queenstown who is now huntin' fur ye."

Walter was silent to him it seemed dishonor staring him in the face, with danger of death from the gallows. "Wa ll, Bill, did ye bring him?" asked a voice which Walter recognized as Jack Hawkins'. He could now understand the strange affinity between the farmer Hawkins and Bill Martin. "I did," Bill answered. "Is he all right?" "Yes, he'll jine us he can't help it"

The team was hitched, Bill got out 8nd Walter did the same. They then repaired to the cabin. Walter moved and acted liko one under some strange spell, some irrisistible force seemed driving him on to ruin. Inside the cabin they were all grouped together, and a pian for the robbery of theBushville bank laid. Walter had his part assigned him. An hour passed in which the plot was fully laid and all arrangements made. "You understand it all now, young man," said Jack Hawkins, in a voice of thunder, as he laid his hand roughly on Walter's shoulder." "Y y—yes stammered Wralter. "You can either jine in and help us or swing to the nearest tree."

It was a choice between death and dishonor—which should he accept?

CHAPTEK XV.

UNCLE I»AN'S PUEDICTIOW.

Carefully as Mr. Miles had kept his opinion of Walter Brownfield locked in his own heart, his very manner aroused llie suspicion^of his family that something was wrong. The coolness with which Walter was treated was perceived by all, and both old heads and young began to put many strange things together.

Pin key Miles perhaps suffered more on account of the youth than anyother member of tho family. Hor naturally sympathetic heart went out to the unfortunate Walter when he came there a few weeks before, a homeless wanderer. His face was so pale and so sad. he looked so weary and friendless, she could not help pitying him. Then when sho discovered in him the true

fighlyof

speechless. This phan­

tom seemed determined ever to rise up in his path, between himself and happiiicsv It was the ghost that haunted him and seemed likely to drive him to ruin. "Ye know," said Bill, nudging him in the side with his thumb. "I suppose I do." he answered. "In course ye do! ha. ha. ha!" "But I will swear I committed no theft and am guilty of no crime." "Ot'eourseyodii'ln't, 1 like ter hear ye stay that! ha. ha, ha." laughed Bill, uproariously, us though he thought it the most excellent joke of the season. "I gtic«s y.« think know nil yet* secrets." certainly know that fatal one," said Wat'ei\ hardly able to suppress the tears that rushed unbidden to his cv "Ye needn't 1x jifcard o* roe a givinV \r away. 1 have never give a pal it way yit."

erm manhood", a noble heart, and intellectual brain, then was admiration mingled with her pity. He was her ideal of true manliness. How different when compared with thorough clownish fellows of Preston Flat, wno seemed to know nothing save to run horses on Sunday and attend corn huskings. In form ho was more slender than they, not nearly so muscular, but his genteel, well-bred aircontrasted strangely with the rough rude youths of Preston Flat The Flatnad its bullies and heroes whose achievements were with the fist Walter was Pinkey's hero, but far diff rent. He was a refined hero. "Could ho £e so bad?" was the question which arose in her raind again and1 again. Was it possible that ne who was so gentle and kind would associate himself with men whose whole aim' was plunder and bloodshed?

Although Mr. Miles had not charged Walter, nor hinted at his suspicions to, his family, yet Pinkey knew as wellj that ho had suspicions as if she hadj heard them. She had read of mer^ being deceitful, and playing tho part of good men when in reality they were, knaves at heart, but Walter could be playing no such part his manner was. perfectly natural. beancial had begun to whisper from neighbor to neighbor that the pale youth knew more about the robbery of the Californian than he would dare to tell. All theso rumors wero kept from the cars of Mr. Brown. The wounded man still kept his bed, though his arm: was healing and he was otherwise doing well. Wralter seldom went into his room, for he felt that there was a vaguo suspicion in the family that he was ono of the would-be murderers. If his mental suffering was peat Pinkey's was equally so. She seldom saw Walter and never more thanspoko to him. She dared not trust herself to speak with him. in the old confidential way. Bitterly did her mind recall the many pleasant hours spent in his company, and above all that delightful ride through the forest road to cnurch, and return. Walter noticed her reserved manner and misinterpreted it. "She, too, mistrusts me," lie said to himself, as he sat upon his favorite block behind the barn. "They all suspect me they all think me a thief they mil think me a murderer. Pinkey mistrusts me with the rest Oh! what have I done to deserve this?" he. groaned.

As ho ait there he wcudered if the great and good Father, who watches over all, had forsaken him. That sainted mother, who now slept in her grave, had taught him when a child to call on the Lora in his honr of trouble and He would not forsake him. Walter's heart was full and he prayed to God to have mercy on him and bring him out re through this fiery ordeal All was __rk no star could be seen In the boriaon. Walter moved and acted like one In a dream.

One afternoon Pinkey Miles pot on her calico sun-bonnet, which made her sweet face and dark eyes mot* besntijtnl than ever, and went across the field to the hut of her Uncle Daniel Hodge, who was hi reality a pensioner on Mr Idles' bounty. She fonnd Uncle Da*, iel and jUU Marr*m i« the kitchen.

the good old man sitting in his favoritej arm-chair with his stout cane In his band. Aunt Margaret was paring apples, her round pink face showing but few wrinkles, and the neat old-fash-ioned cap making the good old woman look pretty. "Good morn in', good mornin, Pinkey bless your soul, come in and have a seat," said Uncle Dan as she came to the door. "Why, Pinkey," said the old lady, "how glad I am to 'o yc do come in and have a seat You must be tired crossin' the field?." "O, no, Aunt Margaret, I am not," Pinkey answered, a smile on her beautiful face. "A walk across the field, which can't be more than a mile at most, doesn't weary me." "Well, well, set down anyhow, and tell me all the news. What's the latest from Iiusbville?" "There is nothing. Uncle Dan," said Pinkey. "How'8 Mr. Brown gcttin'P" "Better wo all think he'll be able to go about soon," said Pinkey, her eyes drooping sadly at the mention of the wounded Californian's name. "Hev they never found the man what did it?" asked Aunt Margaret. "No." "That does all scera strange, somoi how," said llucle Dan, shaking hi3 head, knowingly. "1 can't understand it all, but it will come out all right 1 reckon." "Are the .* still trying to find the men?" asked Aunt Margaret. "I presume they are. The sheriff is at our house consulting with father and Mr. Brown every few days," said Pinkey. As she spoko her beautiful dark eyes wero bent upon the floor. "Hev ye heard what the people have been saying about yer hand?" asked Aunt Margaret "Who?" asked Pinkey, as her heart gave a great leap. She unsuccessfully feigned ignorance. "Why, Walter Brownfield." "No, she answered, yet her conscience smote her. She almost felt as if she had spoken falsely. Sho knew not why. The rumor was in the air she knew it, yet it had failed to reach her ear in any distinct form. "What about him?" asked Unele Dan. "They say as how he did it," answered Aunt Margaret "Did what?" And Uncle Dan spoke harshly. He was not cross to Aunt Margaret But he just betrayed the least anxiety to know what some one had said, with the preconceived idea of denying it. "Why, that he knocked the stranger, Mr. Brown, down, wJfa the intention of robbing him."

Uncle Dan sprang to his feet and brought his cane down on the floor with a whack, that threatened to either break it or drive it through. "Don't repeat that again, mother, he said. "It's all ialse. I know it is false, and it's almost same as lyin' to repeat what a lyin' tongue has said. Walter Brownfield is a gentleman, and the equal of anybody in the land.^ A cloud hangs over him now, I feel it, I know it, and so does he, but I predict that he will rise above this adversity, and come out as go! that has passed through tho liery furnace."

Pinkey looked at Uncle Daniel. O, how sho thanked him for those words! How she wished she could proclaim his prediction from the house-tops, to all the world! It was what she herself felt, but dared not utter.

Uncle Daniel had unknowingly expressed hor very thoughts as she turned her large beautiful eves upon the old man, the unbidden tears flowed down her cheeks. Aunt Margaret was alarmed, and asked what was the matter, but this was a joyous grief too sacred to bo shared, by even the best of friends and, hiding her face in her handkerchief, the gin left the room.

ff CHAPTER XVL DISCHARGED. Walter, in the midst of those dark dangerous men, felt that his life was not worth a moment's purchase. The lonely cabin was in the deepest, gloomiest recesses of the forest, and the men whose trade was blood were grouped a'oout him. Ho did not consider his own safety for a moment but the question was which way could he serve Mr. Smallweed, the banker, best His common sense at once told him that joining the band and then betraying them would be the surest way to save the banker's life and property. He would lose his life any way. and he had better lose it to some advantage. Those dark, fierce men, of whom there were seven, would be sure to murder him if he refused, and if he betrayed them they would be doubly sure to do so. He consented to aid them, and apparently entered into their plan with considerable zeal.

When the meeting broke up, and Walter once more took his place on the wagon seat by Bill Martin, he could scarcely believe himself awake could it be that he had identified himself with a band of burglars and murderers? He had read of such people and such organizations, but supposed they existed only in the imagination of some author. Here ho had meta real band of outlaws, more terrible and dangerous than the blood-and-thunder novel-. b»t could paint them. He was silent, and Bill spoke not a word during the drive home.

The other members of the gang were worthless fellows who lived chiefly by hunting and tramping, and spent all their time and money in a saloon at Bushville. Jack Hawkins was the. leaflet and the brais power of the gang. Never had Walter dreamed* that Jack could be so cruel, ss he* looked on that night when he held the sharp point of his knife over Walter'^ heart, and swore that If he ever proved false to them he would drive It to the hilt

It was late when Bill Martin drore op to the farm of Jack Hawkins, "Won't you git out an' stay all night?" **I bad better go on to Mr. Miles tonight, they might think it strange I did not come," said Walter. "That's so, Walt," said Bill. "I'm Ad to see ye've got aa ere to the safety o' the band. Beatesnocr now, mum the wand."

A

-J

"I radstsuad." said Walter.1 ."Tfei PW who tarns traitor vast

die—that's the oaui. "I understand it. Bill." "Remember that Wednesday night we meet to make a grand haul. Help kin buy ole Miles an' bis gal, us an' ye'll git a wooden suit"

me an' too foil

Walter assured him he was true, all right, said every thing that would allay Bill's fears, and hurried up the road toward the farm-house of Mr. Miles. It was midnight and the air was frosty. Those autumn nights were clear and cold. he stars shone brightly from the heavens, and as Walter saw them he wondered whether he should gaze upon them two weeks hence, or would he fill a felon's grave? "Why, O why, am I so persecuted?" he asked himself. "Never before did I know the full force of a bad name. Bill Martin heard that I had been charged with larceny at Qneenstown, and supposed me a suitable person for this diabolical burglary—a burglary in which I am appointed" to commit murder." He shuddered, and we need not wonder.

The road was cold, dark and silent when he came to the groat farm-house, tho dog barked furiously until he recognized Walter, and then with a joyous whine, sprang forward to greet him. The house was silent. Walter found a door unbolted, by which he entered, and going to his room retired to bed. He slept nono that night His mind was harassed by doubts and fears. At one time he almost came to the conclusion of taking Farmer Miles into his confidence, but then, knowing that he lacked discretion and experience, he abandoned the idea. He. linally concluded to take only the one raau into his confidence who was the most interested—that was the banker Smallweed. It- was dawn before Walter slept the sleep brought on by exhaustion. He was aroused from his slumbers by John Miles shaking him by the shoulder, saying: S "See here, sir ye better git up if ye want any breakfast."

Walter started up, rubbing his eyes and without a wora arose and dressed himself. "Feedin's all done an breakfast ready," said John.

'i

Walter went clown to the well and drew a bucket of cold water from it, and, though the morning air was stinging cold, proceeded to wash his face and arrange his toilet in the rear yard.

Were you at the village yesterday asked Mr. Miles, coming up td Walter. "Yes, sir." Walter answered, and his eyes fell as he remembered what business he was engaged. "I perhaps did wrong in going to the village without your consent. O How! he wished he had not gone at all. "It was all right," the farmer replied. But try as he would, Walter could not meet the eyes of his employer.

Mr. Browif, the wonnded man, came .out to the breakfast table for the first time since he was brought to the house. Pinkey did not come into the diningroom. Breakfast passed in silence, and then Wralter rose and retired to the barn to prepare for the day's work. "I say, Walter, I want to see vou," said Mr. Miles, coming from the house toward him "You haven't been here quite a month yet, have youP" "No, sir," Wraltcr answered, feeling a choking sensation in the throat. "Well here is a full month's wages, I don't want a hand any more." Mr. Miles handed him the money and turned away. "I hope, sir," said Walter, "that I have not displeased you?" "No, Walter" was the farmer's reply, in a tone full of sadness "I have no cause to complain of your work."

Has my conduct been unbecoming a farm-laborer, Mr. Miles?" The farmer was puzzled for Ml answer. He paused a moment while his head was bowed with painful thought "No: you hr-e always behaved very well about re, but—that—Is—well hang it! I don'., want a hand." "That is all right, Mr. Miles, you havo a perfect right to discharge me whenever you see fit but I hope we may be friends. You have been very ain'd to me."

Mr. Miles tried to speak, but utteranco failed him at length, after a fpell of trying to cough up, or swallow down, something in his throat, tho farmer said: "Yes, I'll always be the best friend ye've got" and turning walked away toward the house.

Walter entered the house and gathered up his small bundle of neat clean clothes and left A sigh escaped his lips as he passed through the front gate. Looking back he saw a pale, sorrowful face at the front window. He knew that face on too well, and the look of pity d" pic ted thereon moved his heart Poor Walter was once more a wanderer. The very thing he most dreaded had befallen him. He was again homeless. Where should he go? His plan was formed, and that plan was also in harmony with the plan of the outlaws. He would go direct to Bushville, and stop at the village tavern until he could get an opportunity to inform Mr. Smallweed of his danger.

CHAPTER xvn.

mi urncRvmr.

Walter went to the honseof Jack Hawkins, and informed him that he had been discharged by Farmer Miles. "Ho bounced ye, did he, eh?" asked Jack, with a grin on his face. "Yes," said Walter, "I was discharged and I certainly did not merit it" "Well, ole Miles must hev got a kinder suspicion, ye know," said Jack. "But it'll all come ont fair in the end ye go to Bushville an1 look about ye' sharp them. Dress np in yer best an1 call on Mr. Smallweed may be ye kin, git a place In the bank as clerk ef y«) can't ye kin git near enough to see how the doom ar1 hung, an* the best way to get In. The other boys 'ud: Jist give the thing away ef they 'ud try that nart You a^ the only one In thai band who could do it"

This was the courae that Walter bad laid oat for himself yet with a far different design from that intended tm Jack Hawkins. He hade Jsek good-, bye and trudged on to the village. The' heart of Walter Brownfield was moch heavier than it was a montfc ago, when he cane along tiisvety rofcfseeklng. ft I§*m hfd. Jntbi

then he was penniless and actually' suffering with hunger but now an unknown, indefinable dread had seiiied his heart. He passed several neighbors, who knew him, and such expressions as— "On the tramp again, eh?" "••Givin' the road a lick, eh?" "What, rnnnin' away?"

Good-bye, Walter," and a hundred others greoted his ears. His face flushed, until it almost seemed.on fire, yot he restrained his temper. To somo of the more sympathetic of his friends, he answered politely, informing them, that, for the present, he would sojourn' at the village.

The quaint little country town was reached at last, and, weary and heartsore, Walter proceeded at once to the' small Javern, where he secured board for a week at two dollars and fiftycents. He saw Jack Hawkins and: Bill Martin, who had evidently stfepped in to see if the new recruit was getting in his work well. They did not eonverse with him, but he felt that their eyes were constantly upon him. He shuddered as he noticed the two vil-. lains watching his every movement.

Walter went to the bank of Mr. Smallweed and stood about the door for some time. The ruffians supposed that he was making an examination of the vault with a view to aiding them in the burglary.

Jack, said Bill. "Well, what?" "He's*going to work like a trump." "Makes a good start" "You bet" .. jji. "Hist!" "What?" asked Bill. "The constable is not far behind us.1' "Blast him," said Bill, "I would like to givo him one whack with inj" sling phot." "Ho keeps round like he has suspicion o' us. "No, he ain't let's go up here and watch Walt*' 'Walter had entered tho bank building, and they could not see him. He intended to make them believo that he was doing their bidding, and yet to avoid meeting them personally. "I have evidently satisfied them that I am working in their interest," said Walter, as ne returned to the small, miserable tavern, determined to see Mr. Smallweed and convinco him of his danger.

The next day was Sunday, and in the afternoon Walter dressed himself neatly, sporting a little cane, which he chanced to find, newly shaved and with very much the air of a dandy called on the banker at his residence. The afternoon was pleasant, and Mr. Smallweed, his wife and daughter were sitting on tho portico in front of the house. As Walter entered tho front gate in a careless, unconcerned manner, tlio banker, with a bland smile on his face, arose and walked down to meet him. "Good-day, sir," said Mr. SmallWCBCL "Good afternoon," replied Walter, with a courteous bow. "I presume, young man, you wished see me?" said the Danker. "I do, Mr. Smallweed, and on a matter of the most vital importance to you," said Walter. "I would not have come to see you on the Sabbath day, had it been any matter which I could have deferred." "What is it?" asked Mr. Smallweed, the broad smile disappearing from li face as he observed the terriblo earnestness in the countenance of his visitor. "I must speak to you alone, where ho living mortal can hear what I say, or even see our features while we converse." i.-

to

f-.v-

"Come, then, to my private room, there we will be safe from intrusion." The banker led the way and Walter followed. When they wore in tin room Mr. Smallweed looked tho door and again asked: "Wnat is it?" "You are in danger, Mr. Smallweed.^ .jj ••Of whom? of what?" "Of burglars and murderers," said Walter. "Now do not start or be alarmed at what I am about to tell yon, but there is a deliberate plan on "foot to rob and murder you on next Wednesday night. The same men who attacked and came so near murdering the unfortunate Californian know that his gold is locked up in your vaults." "How do you know they know ilP" "Because*1 am one of them," remarked Walter, coolly. "What!" shrieked the banker, starting up in alarm. "Do not bo frightened, Mr. Smallweed, but listen to me patiently. 1 am only one of the burglars to detect them and bring them to justice. I am one for a purpose." "Young man," said the banker, in a very serious tone, "I must have a full, fair and complete explanation of this whole business. There are many things in ft I do not understand. It is a very serious matter, and you must convince me that you are houest" "Had I intended or desired the robbers to succeed, I should never have informed you of your danger," said Walter. ••That is so but go ahead now and tell me all about it"

Walter proceeded to carefully and truthfully relate a brief history of hisown sad life, especially tho disgraceful accusation of Brewster at Queenstown,' his employment at the farm at Mr. Miles ana meeting Bill Martin and Jack Hawkins with their hand in the woods. He told all, and the banker was lost la wonder. "Their plan is for me to in your employ if possible," said Walter, "and let them in. If you should be in the bank, or whoever sleeps there is to be killed, the safe blown open and the money taken from it" "I beU(*7e you to be an honest but unfortunate young man," said the banker, with considerable' warmth. "Yon shall be employed as my clerk, and yon shall let the burglars in when they oome, but I will see that the sheriff is tnere ready to receive them."

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ninV'Q Skin nnd Scalp preserved and boaU*DAD I 0 titled by Cuticura Medicated Hoap.

Constitutional Catarrh.

Nosingledlsca.se has entailed more suffering or hastened the breaking up of the constitution than Catarrh. The sense of smeH, of taste, of sight, of hearing, the human voice, the mind,—one or more, and Hoinollinra al), yield to Its destructive influence. Tho poison it distributes throughout the system attacks every vital force, nnd breaks up the most robust of constitutions. Ignored, because but little understood, by most physicians, impotently assailed hy quacks nnd charlatans, those suffering from It have little hope to bo relieved of it this side of thegrave*. It Is time, then, that the proper trentmentof this terrible disease by remedies within the reach of all passed into hands at once competent and trustworthy. The new and hitherto untried method naopted by l)r. Hanford in the preparation^ his RADICAL CITRK hns won the hearty approval of thousands. It l« Instantaneous In affording relief in nil head colds, sneezing, snufUing and obstructed breathing, and rapidly removes the most oppressive symptons, clearing the head, sweetening the breath, restoring the senses al smell, tustc and hearing, and neutralizing: the constitutional tendency of the disease towards the lungs, liver and kidneys.

San ford's Radical Cure consists of one both tie of the Radical Cure, one box of CatarrhaS Solvent, and one Improved Inhaler, all wtwp» ped in one package, with treatise and dlrw tions, and sold by all druggists for 81.00.

POTTER DRUG & CHBMICAI. CO., BOSTOV.

KIDNEY PAINS,

Strains and Weaknesses,

ft

Relieved ill one minute by that marvelous Antidote to Pain. Inflammation and Weakness, the Cuticnm Anll-Pnln Plasters. The first Ml only pain-kllllng strengthening plaster. Especially adapted to in-

tantly relieve and speedily cure Kidney ami Uuerine Pains and Weakness. Warranted vastly superior to all other plaster*. At ail Irugglsts. 25cents five for 1.00. or. postage free, of Potter Drug and Chemical Co., Bosion, Mass.

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The only brnnd of Laundry 3osp awarded a fnt claws nuxlai at the New Orleans Exposition. Guaranteed absolutely pinr*, and for general household purposes is the very best

SOAR

For Old and Yoimg.

Ts(f'« Urn PIIU set an kindly on th« child. Il»« rcmale or fnriroa •M MM n|MB th® BM.

elve tMM to (lie weak *toai»rh, bowel*. kidneys tMl bladder. To IIMM •nran» ikcir ulNagtlitalaar qualitlM pre wondcrfnl, rsnslsf Ihera tof«r tbelr fniietloMM la joatb.

Sold Everywhere*

Ofihus, 44 Marray Bk, New York,

W romLwa PARTS

almtffSM) ftw.

$»"*