St. Joseph County Independent, Volume 20, Number 34, Walkerton, St. Joseph County, 16 March 1895 — Page 2

i mw v ?-£^ ^l/lW CHAPTER XlV—Continued. He never spoke of his mother at all now, yet he whs neither dull nor melancholy. It is a remarkable fact, which people who desire to punish other people, 'deservedly or undeservedly, would do .‘well to remember, that the sharpest pain cannot last forever, and that a young couple, thoroughly happy in each other, 'will remain happy in spite ot nil their at Jeetionatorelatives, who think they ought to bo miserable. Ay, and in spite of many outside things that might have I 'been hard in later years: but youth is the I time to fight with fate—youth with its in ' finite courage, its eternal hope. Working at the mill all day. writing his book at night, with little society, for the,' Symingtons had goneintoEdinburgh, with no relaxation except the daily walk •'between the lights," which his wife in sisted upon, Roderick had yet, he de dared, never spent a happier three months. And he looked so well, too, for it is not work that kills, but "worry:" foolish ambitions, unsatisfied cravings, jarred tempers, stinging remorse or unrepented sin. Not mere sorrow; that can tie borne. Both of these had known sorrow —she especially— but there was a noly serenity now, even when one day j «he spoke of that grave at Neuchatel. “Sophie Reynier sent me these violets I from it. She says they are having such a ' lovely spring. And so are we. Just look, I in bud already. Ami only listen, Roder- ! lek, how that mavis is singing?” They were walking up and down the I sheltered kitchen garden—l- vely, though I it was a kitchen garden, with its walks I bordered by Howers, sweet-fashioned ' perennials, which sprung up year by year, | not disdaining the neighborhood of the i vegetables, but growing together, each ! after its kind, in happy union. “Like you and your poor folk,” Roderick once said, j noticing how everybody loved her and did 1 her honor —maid-servants, milk-girls, all the people about the place. "They are so kind. I have such a happy life,” was all the young mistress answered. And her fair, pale face bent down over her flowers, and up again to her budding apple blossoms and her tall forest trees, now growing full of nest-building birds. “That mavis, I have watched him this week past. 1 am sure he has a young family somewhere near. And he sings - how he does sing!—in the top of that sycamore. He began the very day they planted out the hyacinths in my garden under my window." K This, too. was a labor of love, ar- * ranged surreptitiously between Mr. Black and his old gardener—a little mathematical diagram of beds, with grass lawn between. in which had sprung up. as if by magic, successions of spring flowers. ( snowdrops, crocuses, hepaticas. Now, April being come, even in the dear Scotch climate, the sunshine was strengthening and the garden brightening every wsek. “I shall have a beautiful nosegay presently.” she said: "just in time for my wedding-day." He had almost forgotten it the villain. He could hardly believe he had been married a year. And yet it felt sometimes as if they had been married all their lives, so completely bad they grown into one another. It was only by an effort that either could recall their old selves, in the days when they were apart. “That sunset” (they were watching it from a favorite seat she had a summerhouse. warm and dry. facing the southwest. and looking down the winding glen toward the mill, which, hidden by trees, only presented a few chimney-tops, and that fairy-like column of white smoke, unobjectionable to even the most aesthetic eyes)—"that sunset." she said, “it makes the whole sky ‘colonse,’ as we used to say in Switzerland. Do you remember the Jungfrau ami the Wetterhorn that day at Berne? and the Alpes Bernoises from Lausanne? Oh. my land! it is a heavenly laud! I< an never forget it. But this is my home." She had been speaking French for a wonder; they had dropped almost entirely into English now, even when together, but she said "home”—that one dear word which we Britons specially have —with an intonation inexpressible but unmistakable. All her heart had settled into her husband's country. “Thy people shall be my people, and thy God my God.” Never, though Roderick Jardine may i 'live to see thousands of sunsets, will he i forget this one, nor his wife’s face as she 1 looked at it. watching it till the last glow had died away. Then she rose. I > “Now let us go in, dear.” । < "Are you Tired?" “I think so." l.cauing ticasily on Ins j t arm she went indoors; but she sat up sew ; । ing till her usual time, and rose as usual I [ when, at a specially early hour for he , happened to have a long ami busy day be- ; tore him—ho went oil to the mil). Ho was sitting in his litth'. dingy office there, quite late in the afternoon, for he had some difficult accounts to make up. which he hated, poor fellow! not having been blessed by nature with a talent for ; arithmetic; but it was Roderick’s peen- I liarity that what he did worst he always । worked hardest at, and what he parth-u- j larly hatoil he always forced himself to ’ do at once. His head swam, and his eyes j were dazed, yet he still stuck bravely to those mountains of figures, alp after alp arising before his troubled brains, when he was startled by a little knock, and old Black, who he thought had gone home two hours ago, presented himself with a ibeami ng count enanee. "Busy? Ye're always busy. And so I ,thought, sir, I'd just come my sei' and be the first to give ye the good news. Laddie, ■laddie,” with a slap on the back which contrasted oddly with the respectful “Sir,” “go your ways, man, and thank the Lord for all His mercies. Your wife's doing well; and ye’ve got a bairn.” “My wife!” Roderick sprung up like a shot. “Ou, ay, she’s tine; and it's a lad-bairn. She bade Janet come and tell ye. She wadna hae ye sashed about it till all was over. My certie! but she's a brave wom-

an—a woman in a thousand, is young Mrs Ja rdme." I’he old fellow drew out his snuff-box. took several pinches, and blew his nose with great violence, deliberately turning his back upon the young man, as perhaps uns host. * 1 hank God!" Roderick said at last quietly and gravely. "Have I a son or a hen^" 01 ’ forgot. I did not quite “A son, sir. Another Jardine of Blackhall. I hey tell me—l’ve been up at the house mysel'—that he’s such a grand bairn that, his mother is so proud of him.” 11 is mother my son; how strange it sounds!" Roderick put his hands over his eves, vainly trying to realize that great, change in a young man’s life, when he has actually "given hostages to fortune" and sees himself not merely as himself, but as the father of a race to come, who will carry down his name, laden with curses or blessings, to remote posterity. A certain momentary terror or less terror than awe came over him. Then, as if accepting the responsibility which no good man j need fear, and which most men in their secret hearts are rather proud of, he I shook hands with Mr. Black, put his acI count books aside luckily they were nearj ly finished—and prepared to go home at once. It was a wet night, had been pelting rain all day: truly the small Jardine of Blackball got but a weeping welcome into this "wearifu’ woi 1.” But the young father never noticed it. He was fully and overpoweringly happy. The fear which half unconsciously had hung over him like a cloud for weeks was now all changed into a delicious hope and joy. Bidding a cheery good-night to Mr. Black (“By the by. 1 bad a line from your wife yesterday, but that's no matter now,” said he, ns they parted), Roderick walked rapidly up the brae the familiar walk, ; with the light in the parlor window shin- I ing ahead all the way. It was dark now, । but there was a faint glimmer from the I room upstairs, his wife's room. His heart swelled almost to bursting as he looked | at it. "My son. our son. Another Henry Jardine. If my father had only known! And my mother, shall I write to my mother? Perhaps! No!” Choking down the pain that would rise, turning resolutely from the ever lurkiic shadow which no sunshine of joy could quite banish, the young man passed through the dark garden to the hall-door. Faithful Janet was there to open it; only she. All was safe now. but it had been an anxious day. The house felt quiet—painfully quiet, its master thought, as ho went into the empty parlor. They would not let him speak to his wife, but only look at her as sho lay asleep, like a marble imago. Her eyes were closed, but a sweet smile flitted about her mouth, and her left hand was extended outside the covt riot, over a small heap, a little helpless something. What n slender, soft hand it seemed, with the wedding-ring shining upon it, and yet how strong it was- Strong and tender essentially a mother's hand. The young husband's eyes were dim. but he had sc If-control enough to obey or- I ders and creep quietly down-stairs, not even asking to see his little son; in truth, just then ho hardly thought of him nt all as a human entity, but only of the mother. the precious life imperiled ami saved. And he had known nothing- nothing, all this time. With what silent courage had she sent him away nt breakfast time, and kept him ignorantly content at his ! work all that long day: that terrible day! “J nst like her. Sho never thinks of herself, but of me. My darling my only darling!” By ai.d by she awoke, and he was allowed to kiss her, without speaking; indeed. she made no attempt to speak, only smiled -her own ineffably peaceful smile. Then he settled himself in the parlor, which looked frightfully empty, all the more so that so many of her things were ■ lying about her garden shawl and hat, which she had taken off when s’.e came j in the evening before, her work-box, her desk -carefully left open, with a little heap ot addressed envelopes placed on the top of it. so as to save him all possible trouble. There were even the foreign stamps ready affixed to the Neuchatel letters. No one at home had been for gotten; neither Mrs. Grierson nor Lady Symington- not oven Mrs. Alexander I homson. At which Roderick again muttered, “Just like her." But there was no ; letter how could there be—addressed to Mrs. Jardine. "Best not,” he said, with a thrill of anger, the sharpest he had ever yet felt; "we bore all our sorrows alone, we will not make her a sharer in our joy. It is i nothing to her, and she is nothing to us i now." But even while he said it Roderick's ; heart melted. It seemed as if. now he ■ was a father himself, he felt all the | more yearning toward his mother—the j mother who bore him. Nothing could al- I ter that fact. With a great sigh he sat down to his solitary supper, and prepared for an ; equally solitary evening. Ho was slightly occupied. however, I.y I tlie bolt vs he hint to write —in French or English letters to those whom his wife I loved, and who loved her and would sympathize with her to the uttermost, ho ■ knew. Faithfully he fulfilled all her i wishes, even writing a lint' to his sister i Bella. But this, unlike the others, was I brief and cold. As he «li«l it hot indig- j nation, righteous indignation, flamed up j in the young man's heart he would not l have been a time man else a wrathful ' sense of all bis darling had been made ' j to endure - his innocent darling, whom his ; I mother had never known nor taken any j ■ pains to know, and whom his sisters, fol- j I lowing her lead, had as completely ig- i noted as if she were no wife at all. But i the storm did not last long -he was of ! too gentle a nature; and then he was so I happy, so very happy. From his calm height of content that night he felt as if ■ he could afford to look with placable and > • even compassionate eye on his whole fain- | ily —on the whole world. Until near morning he sat writing, and | then, finding that ail was well in the silent j room upstairs, he went to bed, just looking out first upon the dim dawn—only ! one long yellow streak in the horizon—and thinking, if to-morrow happened to be a line day, how pleasant all would be in his wife’s room, where the sun shone almost all day long; how the hyacinths would send up their fragrant breath from the garden below, and the mavis, her own particular mavis, would sing his incessant

song "from morn till dewy eva" over "— busy mate and newly hatched young. Its the world seemed full of life and joy a 11 hope. He had to cover his ears ere id could get to sleep, for the birds were »e ready awake ami singing so loud. ilAn hour or two’s rest and Roderick m up again, half dizzy with his unbelieva ns new joy, and trying hard to talk busin de wYth Mr. Black, who hud come to Bia «s hall himself to get the earliest news, a ikperbuMic the young father to escape fr nd the ignominious position of total negj 'in which befalls all fathers under thi happy <-ir< umstances, and take refugq so "bachch r's hall." Directly after tht in drove up the Symington carriage, w/re Lad I Symington in ,t, who straightw>th disappeared upstairs. My When she came down her round, ril face was pale and her manner painfi ? s y • piiet. She offered no eongrat ilatiolpiy but laid her hand >n Roderick’s arm. "I have been up seeing your wife. you seen her this morning?" jive “Not yet. They would not let me.” I “Quite right. Stop! You must notl to her just now. Instead, lake my «>R<> riage and fetch Dr. " g&rRoderiek in his turn became ghal pale, for this doctor was the most no«By man in all the country-side, and he li*ed twelve miles off. Wed "Is there then such vital necessity?® she in danger? Why did they not t. D Oh. my tiod! my God!" "Hush! we must not u aste ing. It may be nothing, my dear”- jj? old lady's soft "my dear" was more K tying than might else—“but we know. The horsoH fresh; they wiU* there and buck without y ‘x the doctor with you don't come wl/^W*g him. I will stay here till you return.^^K* She spoke briefly, almost sharply, the ealm decision that reassures while it alarms. Without a word Roderick obeyed;®^ lowed Mr. Black, who had listenedW|r silence, to give him his hat and coat, BV throw a plaid into the etirringe after hB n,! "Will you not go, too, Mr. Black? hail better. He is quite stunned, jnR H "Yes, my lady: but I know him— he^H brave lad, he will bear up alone. An*K i ; must go elsewhere." » \ The old man grasped the young maj , hand with a sudden "God bless you!" | Roderick sprung into the carriage I drove away. 1 V < Hi. that awful drive! sitting like f stone, watching mechanically the tn F; and moors and hills slip by, his watch f 9 one hand, counting the half hours —■ P the very minutes as they crawled al©) P in the other hand clutching Lady SytuM ton's note, ready to b" given to the di tor as soon as ho eoul ! be found. j | And then the drive back, with the ■ bra ted" man to whom "the case" w only a ease, mid who talked cleverly a cheerfully ami indifferently of that a 1 many otlior things, till he saw he a ns sem< 'ly heard, anil then, with a natu, . n ; ■ human sympathy for the white, set fl ~e ; beside him, dropped into silence and a book: for years Roderick never saw 1 title of that book without n shudder. S A "ray of hope" be learned there wM s ' <>nly a ray! and three hours before whole world had seemed to him to ! flooded w ith sunshine. He asked no qu*»a. । tions. made no remarks. Muto and nni pealing he sat, half stunned, half blit U like a man who has suddenly receivL,,) sentence of death death utterly un^C. I served mid unexpected death in the midst of life, so that reason refusal] lake it in as a reality, and the mind ic . scions of neither terror nfr pain, dull sense of something happened, orSb-' ing about to happen, which one can more escape than one can escape frotn’^B*’ , falling rock or the advancing breakß^either of which will bring certain mid® 1 * j stantaneous doom. WK They reached Blackball, and he beaß" ; at the front door the Dolor's qucstiJß l ’ "Is she alive?" mid Lady Symingtotß s i affirmative answer; then lie staggered I '• and Janet had to fetch her master a ghl. 19 of nater. mid put him into the armcha^ quite dizzy mid blind. ■ ; But he scon recover.'l hims If, and we ” I ack to listen "at the foot of the stairem ** "It will In- a haril tight a hand to hiu * tight but we'll beat. 1 trust," the Doet) ir was saying, with a thoroughly prof? ’* sional look on his clever face, mid a glea 11 of his keen eyes often seen in men lil e him when they brace up al! their skill t D do battle with the great enemy. The “ ho and Lady Symington both vanished ’ । and Roderick was left alone. Hour after hour he sat, no one comiu, ’ near him. (luce Janet knocked at the pas lor door mid asked if she might bring k 11 the baby whose crying disturbed th p mother. Roderick assented, but took nW’ notice of his son; indeed, at the momen ho almost felt as if ho hated him. Kim "* Janet was the only person who paid th least attention to the young heir of Black hall. (To be continued.) Ho 1,0.1 ped for Life. James H. Budd, of California, re cently told the following story of an escape from the bite of a rat tlesnakt i ’ which be once had: “1 was up in ('ala« veras County Using along the Stanisl lans. I had been told of an almost IrR accessible pool up the river at the bascß of the perpendicular cliffs, and fairly^ alive with trout. 1 found the plaeeßß mid also found that there was sn&Ho way to get a hook ii.i,'^trT~k ne os up «■ on >v< > s< >I I or s (tn Ilie other side of the shell wasWt sheer drop of forty feet down to tha® Just as I dragged myself upon® the top of the ledge tlie whirr ot a rat-^B tiesnake startled me. Naturally iR jumped to my feet, exluiusteil ns I was,J but dropped my fishing rod. T "Tia' coiled rattler was within two* feel of me and preparing to strike.^ Either I had Io gel down on my Immls’ mid knees again or jump forty feet into? ! the pool. As 1 saw the diamond head of the snake draw back to strike I de-' । cided and jumped. Just as I sprung the rattler struck. I had it pair of moccasins on my feet and the fangs ot the. snake fastened in the one nearest hinr?g As 1 went down I n member seeing the, snake flying over the sdile of the pool.O. Its fangs bad caught ami 1 had carried) I it with me. -j|» “Just what happened in the second or* two after I struck tlie water in my dive) of forty feet I don’t know. Fortunately the pool was fairly deep. As I dragged myself upon the rocks at the edge, I realized with a thankfulness I never knew before that 1 was not only alive but had escaped the snake and broken bones. I was badly bruised, but not seriouslj’ hurt. YVhat became of the snake I don't know.”

HELPFUL FARM HINTS SUGGESTIONS FOR THE AGRICULTURIST AND STOCKMAN. II -M’ § A Farmcr’H Reputation for Honesty Is Worth Everything —■ Form of Churn that T s Extremely PopularHandy Hoisting Device. Above the Average. The farmer who is content with averige crops sold in the average condition must accept only average prices. He who produces anything and puts it on the market in prime condition is the one who is going to make sales first and get top prices. The average man comes along later. No matter what you i have to sell put it in the best possible condition for market and see to it that ; you can adopt the same ratio that we once saw in a barrel of apples in the East. When tlie head was taken out of that barrel there was exposed a printed slip which said: "This package was product d and packed by John Sniilh, who guaranties that when you Keo the top you see tlie whole." The conimlsslou WHII told us he never had any u*»»»ble with anything that man “sent in. for his reputation bad been inade. lhM^d only packed ids fruit and ®Wemtdcs in the l>est manner, but sui t ed the sizes, and when the pai kage was opened the buyer knew just what to ex pect from top to bottom. We know a farmer who takes his grain to market and dumps it wherever the buyer tel’s him to, and is then asked how manv bushels he has. His grain is never look ed at nor weighed by the man who has bought it for years; if it is not in good condition he insists on inspection, but I if he knows ii is all right he unloads and gets his pay. A reputation of that | kind is worth more than a good farm, ' for it brings a greater return. Honesty j is not only the best policy, but it is ab- | solutely necessary to final success. Carelessness is the costliest habit a farmer can Fall into, and trickery, while it may seem to succeed fora time, must cost more than it comes to in the end Farm News. A Barrel Churn. The illustration from in exchange shows a favorite form of churn where I the work Is all done at home by hand. : Nobody who is anybody now uses the i oid-fttshioned dasher churn. It is too I bark breaking. It explains Its If. It g , Wry!; ii- 1 ■ T 111 HA KU! I <nt KX I • Ings and oscillates and brings the [bu'ter. W hether one is a beli>-v"r or dislvliever in washing butt r. In? will ! stop churning when the butler is in the I granular stale, the size of grains of wheat. Then the buttermilk is drawn carefully off. Some - >o,l butter makers dash water cooled to G'J degrees upon the grains of butter and then turn the barrel churn over a dozer, ’imes more. Although the churns usually do tot provide for it. it is well to have a strainer of somewhat coarse wire be- , neath the buttermilk vent to i aL'll the lumps of butter that would >ih‘fwise go out with the milk. Windlass for Dressing Beef. YVhi'ii cattle are killed on the farm it is usually a ditli'-ult matter to hoist j the carcass in order to skin and dress it properly. Block and tackle are i often not at hand, and even when j readily obtainable, the place where the beef must be killed frequently does not have a support high enough or strong enough to hold the heavy ani mal clear of the ground. The hoisting device shown in the accompanying illustration from the American Agrict.lturist is unexcelled for simplicity, cheapness and adaptation to farm butchering. Where other devices use //1 n j A HAXIO IIOISTIXI. PEVII E. complicatod windlasses or long levers for hoisting, this differs from all of them in simply using the gambrel stick for a windlass, and the hockjoints for the bearings in which it revolves. As the supporting ropes may be fastened to any strong, high object, the plan may be used with any gambrel stick by boring holes and insert ing short lever arms. Ihe illustiatlon shows it used with an ordinary der- • rick of three legs boiled together at the top. The supporting ropes are S’ fastened to the two outer legs, thus suspending tlie earcass. and are wouml around the gambrel stick windlass. Early Tomatoes. Early tomatoes bring high prices. One way to get them is to begin now. and soav the seed in a box, keeping the box in a suitable place in the house. YVheu the plants are large enough transplant them to a cold frame outJide which is carefully protected and

well covered, to keep out the froat. In the proper season put the plants in the open ground, ('are will have to be used, as the plants are quickly injured by cold. The Grape Apple-Gall. Every now and then a paragraph appears in the papers, says Meehan's Monthly, about a grape vine v. hii li has wonderfully produced hickory nuts! The supposed fact has even been used to prove that pollen has an immediate influence in modifying the < haraeter of a fruit! If any one would only take the trouble to cut one across, he would see into the little channels the insects hate made for themselves. The gall is formed by a small fly of the genus Z'" In / I.KAPE A ITE E-G Alt . t'ecidomyia. It is a remark.tide fact ihat each soecies of the gall fly family has its ow n form of the gall. In some way this results from the varying power which obstructs the growth energy. A large rock falling hit > a stream turns a larger and differently formed current I than a smaller one. The acid deposit- j ed by one insect is more or less obstl'lic- I live to the formative energy than the I acid of another. This is only the gen- | oral prim iple. No one. so far as tlie writer knows, lias worked the matter out in detail. Old Clover Seed. We have sown clover seed that we know was three years old. and it came I up as thickly as seed that was of the j previous year’s growth sown in the same field. The old seed is lighter in color, as keeping it exposed to light for a long time has faded it. but its smni miting powers are not impaired. We have no doubt that clover seed retains its vitalil.v much longer than this. Wherever a crop of elover seed isgrown th.- seed remains in the ground, as a good deal of it always shells while it. is being harvested. Such fields produce clover fcr many years after without new reseeding. Yet always during the winter and spring the clover seed must be swelled by contact with waler in the soil, it would seem that it could not grow after having swollen until nearly ready to germinate: but the facts show that the seed is not injured by several repetitions of this process, gLae that the clover seed, like some others, is atcrhUy oily, and only ^"ri 11 !: nates when it is iiKdsmmsi Y"*' surface of the soft aTHTumler favorable condition* for lighi and warmth.— A merf.a 11 l 'nt i ia ler

Carrots a- Fc-rd. ('nrr«>K are highly relished by horses. A few carrots, fed raw. after being sliced, will prove a delicacy to cows, and fell mice a day they will promote | the appetite and keep the animals in good condition when other foods may not be acceptable. Carrots are used by some dairymen as a regular food tor cows, in order to give a deeper color to the butter, and are highly esteemed by them for that purpose. Cooked and thickened with bran they make an excellent mess w hen fed w arm on a cold .lay. A Stone Ladder. To assist in loading stones, we have 1 found the simple ladder shown in the i accompanying illustration of '-onsid' erable value, says an exchange. It i _ j _ 1^ FOK LOADING STONES. j consists of two strong oak poles joined i by means of a 1%-inch pin a foot from each end. The poles are about three ’ inches in diameter. Place one end of I the ladder on the ground and the other 1 on the wagon and it is ready for use, ami saves lots of lifting. Linseed Meal. This is recognized in stock feeding as a valuable food article. In protein nutrients, tiiose parts of greatest vain • in a food article, it is second only io cotton seed meal. At the same time it is a food that from its oleaginous nature has a healthful effect on the digestive organs of Ute animals to which it is fed. The large proportion of food nutrien’s contained, together with the healthful effect of the same, renders this article especially desirable. 'l'lte harrow and the roller are \ among the most important of the farm ' tools. Without the liberal use of both ■ the small grain crops can hardly be J put in properly. Charcoal is almost a necessity for hogs.. Its cost is but little, ami all that is required is to place a large piece in the pen daily, as' the hogs will easily crush it for their use. In some classes of farm products overproduction has not so much to do with the depression of prices as has poor quality. This applies equally to products so widely different as cattle and fruit. From the time an egg is dropped until it be consumed it loses both bulk and weight. Titis process goes on much more rapidly in hot weather, hence the difficulty of procuring fresh eggs in summer. When this evaporation can be effectually stopped the egg remains sound and good for a great length of time.

WAS GOULD INSANE? Financial Worry and Physical Exertion Not the Greatest Destroyer of Human Life. For Humanity's!Sake, After Thirty-six Years of Nerve-Creeping Slavery, He Tells How He Was Set Free. Caldivell, N. J.. March 11. IS9s.—(Special.) —Since one of our prominent citizens suffered so terribly from tobacco tremens, has made known his frightful experience in behalf of humanity, the ladies here are making tobacco-using husbands' lives miserable with jheir entreaties to at once quit tobacco. T he written statement of S. J. Gould is attracting wide-spread attention. When interviewed to-night he said: “I commenced using tobacco at thirteen; I am now - forty-nine; iso, for thirty-six years I chewed,smoked, snuffed and rubbed snuff. In the morning I chewed before I put my pants on, and for a long time I used two ounces of chewiag and eight ounces of smoking a day. Sometimes I had a chew in both cheeks and u pipe in my mouth at once. Ten years ago I quit drinking whisky. I tried to stop tobacco time and again, bit could not. My nerves craved nicotine sin.l I fed them till my skin turned a tobacco-brown, cold, sticky perspiration oozed from my skin, and trickled down my back at the least exer tion or exeitemei t. My nerve vigor and my life was being slowly sapped. I made up my mind than I had to quit tobacco or die. On October 1 I stopped, and for three days I suffi red the tortures of the damned. On the third day I got so lad that my partner accused me of being drunk. I said, ‘No, I have quit tobacco? ‘For God's sake, 'nan,’ ho said, offering . me his tobacco box, ‘take a chew; you will ■go wild,’ and I was wild. Tobacco was for.-eil into me and I was taken home ■ dazed. I saw double and my memory j was beyond control, but I still knew hotv ' to chew and smoke, which I did all day j until towards night!, when my system got tobacco-soaked again. The next morning I looked and felt as though I had been through a long sped of sickness. I gave up in despair, as I thought that I could not cure myself. Now, for suffering humanity. I’ll tell what saved my life. Providence evidently answered my good wife's i prayers and brought to her attention in our paper an article which read: ‘Don't I Tobacco Spit and Smoke Your Life Away!’ “What a sermon and warning in these words! Just wL'.it I was doing. It told about a guaranteed! cure for the tobacco habit, called No-To-Bac. I sent to Druggist Hasler for a box. Without a grain of faith 1 spit out my tobacco cud, and put into my mouth a little tablet upon which was stamped No-To-Bac. I know it sounds like a lie when 1 tell yon that j I took eight tablets the first day, seven the next, five the third day. and all the ; nerve-creeping feeling, restlessness and mental depression was gone. It was too ; good to be true. It seemed like a dream, j That was a month ago. I used one box. I It cost me sl, and it is worth a thousand. I gained ten pounds in weight and lost all desire for tobacco from the first day. I sleep and eat well, and 1 have been benefited in more ways than I can tell. No, the cure was no exception in my case. I know of ten people right here in Caldwell who have bought No-To-Bac from Hasler, and they have been cured. Now that I realize what No-To-Bac has done for mo and others, I know why it is that the ' makers of this wonderful remedy, the Slwi'Hug Uayeily Company, of New York , ' atm t nicago, \V » don't claim to cure । every case. lhai*~ He* “ but we do guarantee three boxeTN” the tobacco habit, and in case of failure we arc perfectly willing to refund money.’ I would not give a public indorse-

meat if I were not certain of its reliability. I know it is backed by men worth n million. No-To-Bac has been a God-send to me, and I firmly' be- . Heve it will cure any case of tobaccousing if faithfully tried, and there are thousands of tobacco slaves who ought to know how eas.v it is to got free. There's happiness in No-To-Bac for the prematurely old men, who think as I did that they are old and worn out, when tobacco is the thing that destroys their vitality I and manhood.” 'Die public should be warned, however, 1 against the purchase of any of the many imitations on the market, as the success | of No-To-Bac has brought forth a host of counterfeiters and imitators. The genuine No-To-Bac is sold under a guarantee to cu®?, by all druggists, and every tablet has the word No-To-Bac plainly stamped thereon, and you run no physical or financial risk in purchasing the genuine article. It Is Merely Good Health. That beautiful complexion is health, preserved by Ripans Tabules. Ripans Tabules purify the blood, clear the skin of blemishes and make life more worth living. Think of it ladies! You can permanent- ! ly beautify your complexion with Glenn'« I Sulphur Soap. “Hill’s Hair and Whisker Dye,” Biacic or Brown, 50c. A Bank Failure. AN INVESTIGATION DEHANDED. A general banking business Is done by the human system, because the blood deposits in its vaults whatever wealth we may gain from day to day. This wealth is laid up against ‘‘a rainy day ” as a reserve fund —we re in a condition of healthy prosperity if we have laid away sufficient capital to draw upon in the hour of our greatest need. There is danger in getting thin, because it's a sign of letting down in health. Togain in blood is nearly always to gain in wholesome flesh. The odds are in favor of the germs of consumption, grip, or pneumonia, if our liver be inactive and our blood impure, or if our flesh be reduced below a healthy standard. What is required is an increase \n owe germ-fighting strength. Dr. Pierce’s Golden Medical Dis -overy fctriches the blood and makes it wholesome, stops the waste of tissue and at the same time builds up the strength. A medicine which will rid the blood of its poisons, cleanse and invigorate the great organs of the body, vitalize the system, thrill the wnole being with new energy and make permanent work of it, is surely a remedy of great value. But when we make a positive statement that 98 per cent, of all cases of consumption can. if taken in the early stages of t ie disease, be cured with the “ Discovery,” it seems like a bold assertion. All Dr. Pierce asks is that you make a thorough investigation and satisfy yourself of the truth of his assertion. By sending to the World's Dispensary Medical Association. Buffalo, N. Y . you can get a free book with the names, addresses and photographs of a large number of those cured of throat, bronchial and Ifmg diseases, as well as of skin and scrofulous affections by the “ Golden Medical Discovery.” They also publish a book of 160 pages, being a medical treatise on consumption, bronchitis, asthma, catarrh, which will be mailed on receipt of address and six cents in stamps*