St. Joseph County Independent, Volume 21, Number 7, Walkerton, St. Joseph County, 7 September 1895 — Page 6

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CHAPTER I. “Help! Help!” “Call louder, Nousie. There is no one to hear.” But all the same, the speaker, as he seized a handsome mulatto girl round the waist, clapped his hand over her lips and pressed it there in spite of her struggles. “You foolish girl!” he whispered; “the women have gone down to the town to see what is going on. Why do you treat me like this?” “How dare you!” cried the girl, wrenching her head free. “My husband shall “Be silent, you silly little bird. You know I loved you long before he ever spoke to you, and that I love you now more than ever.” “Mr. Saintone. it is an insult. Help.' Help.’" There was a quick short struggle in the creeper-hung verandah. A little worktable was overturned, and, flushed and excited, the girl wrested herself free, and darted through the open door into the shadowy inner room of the cottage, closely pursued by her assailant; but, before he could fling his arms round her again, she had caught a sleeping child from the cradle in which it lay, and held it before her as a shield, while she stood panting, the blood coloring her creamy cheeks, and her full lips drawn back from her white teeth—at bay. “Yes, you look handsomer than ever now, Nousie,” said her assailant, a handsome man of five and thirty, with but a very slight crispness in bis black hair to tell of a faint mingling of another blood in his veins. “But this is acting. How can you be so foolish? Come, listen to reason.” The girl’s handsome dark eyes flashed as she drew back, pressing the child more closely to her breast, and watching every :act of her assailant, lest he should take her unawares. “I shall tell my husband everything when he comes back,” she panted. “What will he say to his friend when he knows. What have I ever done that you should treat me so?” She burst into a passion of tears, sobbing violently. “Hush, you foolish woman,” he whispered; and he looked sharply toward the door. “Yes. he will come soon, and I will tell him all.” “No, you will not, dear. If you told him, he would come to me, and I should shoot him.” The girl’s jaw dropped, and she gazed at the speaker wildly. “Yes,” he said, seeing his advantage. “I should shoot him. 1 never miss. Tell him, Nousie. He is in my way.” The girl grew a deep, sobbing breath, and gazed at the speaker as if fascinated, and he saw it and laughed. “There!” he said, “I am going now. Next time I come you will be more sensible and ” “Ah!” cried the girl, joyously. “George —George. He is coming.” She darted to the door with the child in her arms, passed through from the cool darkness into the hot sunshine, and he satv^her dart in and out among the great . vivid green leaves of the bananas, and out into the road, down which she hurried toward, where, a quarter of a mile away, a white figure could be seen approaching. Jules Saintone stood in the doorway for a few moments watching the hurrying figure of the girl, with her white muslin dress fluttering in the breeze off the sea. “No; she will not tell him,” he said, through his compressed teeth. “She will not dare.” Then passing into the broad verandah he bent down and hurried to the end, passed out into the lovely, half-natural garden, and made his way to the shelter •of the edge of the forest behind, among whose heavily foliaged branches he disappeared. Bj' this time the girl was some distance along the road, hurrying on with her drowsy child clasped close to her heaving bosom, her lips parted and her eyes strained toward the approaching figure. “Oh, George, George,” she panted, “make haste, make haste!” Then a cold shiver ran through her and she checked her headlong pace. “He said he would shoot him.” She nearly stopped, for her brain reeled as she recalled different bloody affrays which had taken place in their unhappy island, where the hate of race was sufficient cause for the frequent use of pistols or knife, and the laws were so lax that the offender was rarely brought to justice. “And he would kill him if I told,” she said despairingly, as she gazed wildly at । the approaching figure, which waved a j hand to her and then took off his straw J .hat and waved that. I 1 “And we were so happy.’ she added j -after a pause, as she walked slowly on now,tryingto recover her breath and quell the agitation which made her tremble m

■every limb. “Oh, if I only dared!” she panted, as a flash of rage darted from her dark eyes. “If I went to the papaloi and asked him, he would be stricken and would die.” “No, no, no,” she cried, as she strained the child to her breast; “they would poison him, and it is too horrible. I—l must not speak.” The figure was fast approaching, now standing out clear in the dazzling tropic sunshine, now half hidden by the dark shadow of the heavy leafage which hung over the road, till with a sigh of relief, as a strong arm was passed round her supple waist, the girl let herself rest upon the support, and her troubled face grew calm as that of one who has found sanctuary at last. “My darling! Impatient? Have I been le long?”

“Yes, yes; so long, George—so long.” “But—why you are overdone with the heat and carrying that child. You foolish little thing to come out in this roasting sun.” She looked at him wildly. “No, no, no,” he cried, kissing her fondly. “I’m not cross, little one, but you should not have come to meet me. And then to bring the poor pet. Ah!” he cried, as he tenderly took the sleeping child from her arms, and kissed its closed eyelids and tiny pouting lips in away that sent a thrill of joy through its mother. “Why, Nousie, darling, were you afraid the Vaudoux people would come and steal it for their next feast?” “Hush!” she whispered excitedly, and with a look of horror she gazed wildly round into the dark shadows of the forest, at whose edge their cottage stood. “Bah! little coward!” he said, smiling, as he passed his arm about his wife again, and they walked gently back, taking advantage of every bit of shade. “But, Nousie, dear, I must talk seriously to you about that.” “Not about the Vaudoux people, George,” she said hurriedly. “Yes, dear; about the Vaudoux. My little wife must wean herself from all those beliefs.” Nousie hung more heavily on her husband’s arm, and the tears filled her dark eyes as she shook her head slowly, ami despondency seemed to be clouding her soft creamy face. “Why, Nousie,” cried the man, a sunburnt French colonist, who years before had left gay Paris to try his fortune in Hayti, “you would not like our darling, my tiny dawn of a bright day, my precious Aube, to learn all their horrid fetish rites and degrading superstitions.” “Oh, no, no, no,” cried the girl excitedly, “Then why not forget them yourself? Can you not see, dearest, that this is the savage religion of the African, brought over here by the wretched slaves?” The color began to appear once more in the girl’s pallid cheeks, and she turned her eyes to his reproachfully. They were hidden among the trees, though at that hour not a soul was in sight; white, and indolent black, in the scattered dwellings were asleep, and he drew her closer to him, and kissed her i tenderly. “Don’t look like that pct," be said. “You don’t suppose it was meant for a reproach to you for what you cannot help? What is it to us? We love, and you might blame me because my ancestors were French. But promise me you will try and forget all that." “I wili try.” said Nousie. fixing her eyes on those of her husband with a look of yearning love. “But it is so hard, Gtsirgc. My grandmother used to believe so much, and she taught me. and she used to tell me that if I dared to forget them the people and the priests had such power—they were everywhere—and that if I forsook them I should die. And I could not die now and leave you.” He drew her to him again, and they walked more slowly as he looked from the sweet dreamy eyes, fixed so earnestly on his, to the sloping child and back. “No darling, and you shall not die," he said, half pitying her. "There, some day your faith in all the horrible old superstitions will grow weaker, and you will see the truth of all I say.” “I do now, dearest,” she whispered, “for you are so wise and learned and good. I want to forget it all. but it is so hard, and it seems like a cloud over me sometimes, and fills me with fear for you and our little one.” “It is like a cloud over this beautiful unhappy land, Nousie,” cried the man. drawing himself up. “It is a curse to the country, and it is so hard to see peace. Oh, my wife,” he continued excitedly; “here is a land blessed by the Creator with everything that should make it a paradise for man. but man curses it with his jealousies and passions till it is a perfect hell. Black against white —white against black, and the colored people hating both. And as if this was not enough, here is all this revolutionary trouble, and I do not know which side to take—which to help into peace to save the land.” “Side—help!” cried Nousie wildly. “You —you will not go and fight?” He gazed at her fondly for a few moments as they stood fast beneath the broad spreading leaves of a dwarf palm. "Fight?” he said sadly. "If I could help it, no, Nousie, darling. I came out here to seek a place where all would be peace, where I could have my home, and win land from savage nature to give me the richest fruits of the earth. I have done this, and I have my home made beautiful with the voice of the sweetest, truest woman upon earth, with our little one here; but it is of no use to hide it from you—there are great troubles coming ! again. We shall have bloodshed till one i party has full power. Callet is the man I believe, but black La Grasse is making head, and he is not a bad fellow, he wishj es well to the place. I hesitate sometimes

which side to take. “No, no, no,” cried Nousie passionately. “You shall not fight; they would kill you.” “No, not so bad as that,” said George Dulau, smiling. “But join one side I must, darling. Every man among us must make a stand for his position in the land.” A piteous sigh escaped from the girl’s breast. “Yes,” continued Dulau, “it is hard, love, but it is one’s fate. Harder, too, now, when I have you and the little one. There, don’t think of the coming troubles while we have the present. Look at her, how delicate and white she is,” he continued, as he gazed down fondly at the sleeping child. “Is she not beautiful, Nousie? —Venousie —Venus.” He laughed gently. “As beautiful as you are. They might well call you Venus.” “Don't,” said the girl reproachfully,

“you make me think you are mocgi n am not beautiful.” “No?” he said tenderly. “Then our darling is not.” “Oh, no,” cried the girl ecstaH e „ “She is beautiful—and she is “Yes, white,” said Dulau fondly]at . and beautiful and rosy as the jiff. e Nousie, we will have no other nan^Y** her. She shall be Aube—the da^ darling, and some day she shall . Paris. We wili make a lady of । 0 Nousie. There, come along, I am titai with a morning's talk.” “Yes, tell me,” cried Nousie. “WI has been done—what has been said?” “Impossible! One voice drowned other. But the people are all for flE* ing, Nousie, I cannot conceal it from It must come.” | They walked on in silence for a few Kemeats, and then Dulau said gravely; ■ “Let me see, it is ten years sin<« j landed in Port au Prince, and there a revolution. In those ten years tL,. have been two morn, and now we ar|on the brink of another. Saintone say, I must stand for him and his party, aid I am afraid I must—what is the mat< ?” 1 The young wife had started violtKly, and her face was full of agitation Aso- ; quent upon his mention of the naw of his friend, one of the wealthiest planters and merchants of the port, j, "Matter?" she faltered, turning p«F "My darling,” he whispered, not to have talked about it to you."^ , “Yes, yes; I must know ail,” r ‘ ' wildly. "But George, dearest, iQI' s 1 must tight—don't—don’t ” She stopped short, gazing at hi» parted lips. < . “If I must tight—don’t.” he saidA ingly repeating her words. Wbß . “I >on't— don't take shies witn^® a*Otone.” she cried desperately. “Eh? Not with the best friend Imave in the world?" I “No, no,” she cried, clutching him by the breast as they stood now in the shade of their broad verandah. “He is not your friend—he hates you. Don't trust him—don't join with him—he —ha ” “Why, Nousie. darling, yon are quite feverish and wild.” said Dulau wonder ingly. as he laid his hand upon her burning forehead. "Gome indoors, and let’s lay Aube down. She will be cooler. Look at the little pearls all over her white forehead. There, little one," he said, ns he bent down and kissed the child, walking the while into the shadowed room, where he laid the sleeping babe in its cradle, his wife following him with her hands clasped, and her teeth set for fenr she should say more tell her husband and risk his life. He turned to her smilingly, and stopped short, startled by her set countenace. “Why, Nousie, dear," he said, catching her in his arms, “you are not going to be ill?” “III? No, no," she said, shuddering as she closed her eyes. “But you are so strange. Why have you taken such a sudden dislike to Saintone? By the way, he was not at the meeting. I must go and see him as soon as it grows cool. But ” 11<> looked round wonderingly. His eyes had caught sight of the overturned worktable. then of a chair lying on its side, and a curtain half dragged down from the rings which held it above the window. He gazed wildly at his wife, and a strange pallor came into his cheeks: uUih* the girl’s eyes were wide open now, and staring at him. with a faintly-seen opal ring about the pupils. The volcanic passion of the Gaul burned in the man's eyes, as thought after i thought flashed through his brain, and ha caught her clasped hands in his. “Nousie!" he cried, hoarsely, "tell me - what has happened speak what does all this mean?" The white circle between her eyelids grew larger as she gazed at him wildly. "Tell me why do you not answer?" Ue cried. Her lips moved, but no words came. "Ah!" he cried, excitedly, "you were flushed and excited you had been weeping. Nousie, wife—why do you not speak ?” "I—dare not.” she faltered at last. "What! Have some of the Vaudoux people been here?” She shook her head. “Then tell me. What has happened?" "I—l dare not," she moaned, ami she sank upon her knees before him as he held her hands. “You- you dare not?" he cried, fiercely. “This instant —why not?” “He- said he would kill you if I did.” “What? Who- who said that?" roared Dulau furiously. "No, no—don’t ask me." sho cried, nnd she would have grovelled at his feet, but he dragged her up and held her tightly, one arm about her waist, the other upon her brow, forcing her head back as he seemed to plunge his gaze into hers in search of the truth. (To be continued.) Important Office. Among the many anecdotes relating to the celebrated Doctor Chalmers, an amusing one was once told by a gentleman on his return from his first visit to Edinburgh. He had heard a great deal about the wonderful oratorical powers possessed; by some of the members of the General Assembly, and being anxious to hear) and judge for himself, paid au early, visit to it. Next to him sat an elderly, hard-sea-M tured, solemn-faced man, who was lea’ » ing with both hands on a heavy Stic. ■ which he eyed with great concentratioij| of gaze, scarcely lifting his eyes fronW his absorbed contemplation of It. J Soon the stranger’s attention was riv^ eted upon the speaker who had opened I the day’s discourse. The wonderful! command of language which he possess-] ed, combined with his eloquence of style and the peculiarity of his manner, excited the listener’s curiosity to a great degree. “Can you tell me who is speaking now?” he asked, eagerly, turning to the sober-faced old man beside him. “Who’s speaking now?” echoed the old man, lifting his eyes from the contemplation of the stick to fix them in contemputous amazement upon his interlocutor. “That, sir, is the great Docther Chawmers, and I’m holdin’ his stick!” It is said that if two tuning forks of ! the same pitch are placed facing each [ other, the one sounding, the other si- . lent, in a few seconds the silent one will be giving out a distinctly audible , note.

CHAT OF THE CAPITAL 1 SPECULATION as TO JACKSON’S SUCCESSOR. At Present Bissell Seems to Be- the Strongest Mun—-Marshes of the Potomac Are Being Abolished—The ttreat Congressional Library. An Early Appointment Likely. tVasblngtou correspondence: X i^l HERE is still a 5 I great deal of specuJL lation as to Whom

the President will appoint to fill the place of the late Justice Jackson. Some people have wondered why the appointment has not already been made, » but it is pointed out g that there is no in- " stance on record r where a justice has been appointed during the interim be- ■ tween the adjourn- ■ ment and the reassembling of Con-

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greas. Moreover, there is really no immediate necessity for the tilling of the vacancy nnd it is not expected that the President will seriously consider the matter until his return to this city in October. Justice Field has pointed out the necessity of the vacancy being tilled about that time, as the docket of the court is several years behind. The loss of even a single member of the bench would therefore bo considerably felt and for thia reason the Chief Justice and some of ids as■ocintes are said to have urged upon the President the advisability of filling the plaee«ns early as possible. The thing which is thought to weigh most with the President agaiust making an early appointment is that it might subject the justice selected to the humiliation of sitting on the bench for a short time, only to find he was a persona grata tn the Senate. Until an appointment is finally made there will continue to be much guessing as to the appointment. At tile present time Mr. Bissell seems to be about the strongest man, not only because of his friendship with the President, but also because of his being a New Yorker, from which State it is thought the appolntment will he made. It is prediete 1 t»* many that the President will follow his custom and np|s>int a lawyer not known t<> the general public. If the President intemla to honor any of his Cabinet with a seat on the l»em h Secretary Carliele would in all probability l>o the man. Potomac Marshes. Little by little the marshes of the I’oto- j mac. which have so long rendered Wash , ington unhealthy, are living abolished. When the agitation for the abolition of I the marshes began it was maintained that the upper marshes rendered the White House unhealthy, while those on the eastern branch performed n similar of ense to the Unital States ar-enal an I navy yard. The plan which is being followed in the matter is either to put the marshes permanently under water or elseto bring parts of them permanently above. That this work, although only in its in fancy, has be»n productive of good results the death rate of Washington this summer has shown. Physicians throughout the city report that tlivre is less mala ria in the place than ever before, ami I they note a sliuffur decrease m (Ue si. k nvss caused by marsh miasma. 'I lie improvement in the river itself is nearly •■ompleted. but that on the eastern branch is barely tinder way. Here the flats choke up most of the waterway am! half poison the air. The plan which Maj. Twining, the engineer, is following m this part > ' the river will have the effect of straightening out tin* navy yard channel, which now winds arouml like a W. while the great mud marshes will be i hangcd into water or high land. The friends of the late Secretary Gresham always declared that the sickness which ultimately caused his death was brought about by the exhalations from the marshes near the State Department. At certain points of the wind all the nir from these murshes is borne directly into th.- departments, and many a man owes his first sickness to Potomac malaria. Congressional Library. When the great Congressional library is completed members of Congress will be able to get the books they need in a less space of time than by any other system on earth. Much of this will be due to the system of shelving which is to be adopted in the library. Many months of investigation took place before the final choice of these bookeases was made. Next to the reading-room th.-re will open out an extensive book magazine or repository filled with iron eases consisting of tiers or floors rising sixty-five feet high to the roof. These tiers were put in at this distance to obviate the necessity of using ladders. As each tier of shelves is only eight feet high it is easy to tench the topmost shelves without help of any kind. Each stack has a shelving capacity of 8,000 volumes. The librarians have also been investigating the improvements of other libraries, and on the various floors in the book stacks there will be elevators ami tramways for the transportation of books. J- Every kind of saving machinery twhich ingenuity can <levi.se will be put use to brills books to the tunnel t^rlxich is to be put into operation between t the Capitol and the library. Work on this already been commenced. A trench BTI.OOU feet long has been dug across the KEapitol park, and in it wili be constructed Kbrick conduit six feet high and four feet Vwide. This conduit will connect the basement of the library building with I the basement of the Capitol. Shafts will I run both from the library stacks and from the Congressional floors to this tunnel. It is proposed to run a small cable through the tunnel upon which will constantly travel carriers large enough to hold books. These will move very rapididly, and will take up and deliver the books between the two buildings. Telephone wires are to be laid in this conduit, and a member of Congress will be able to communicate his wants directly to the librarian from the cloak-rooms of either the Senate or the House. The tunnel is intended to be dry and light, so that a man can walk through it if anything goes wrong. As this book railway is only to be used to furnish members of Congress with books it is expected that two carriers will be sufficient. The smaller the number the greater the speed which can be used for the cable. The event of the evening—sunset.

THE SUNDAY SCHOOL. thoughts worthy of calm REFLECTION. A ?leasant, Interesting, and Instructive Lesson, and Where It May Be Found—A Learned and Conciae Review of the Same. Lesson for Sept. 8. Golden Text —He wholly followed the Lord God of Israel.—Josh. 14; 14. “Caleb's Reward" is the subject of the lesson this week. —Joshua 14:5-14. Caleb, the intrepid, the man whom God did not forget—here is a word for him from one who believed in “The Reformer:” “Before the monstrous wrong he sets him down — One man against a stone walled city of sin. For centuries those walls have been a-building;

Smooth porphyry, they slope and coldly glass The flying storm and wheeling sun. No chink, No crevice lets the thinnest arrow in. He fights alone, and from, the cloudy' ramparts A thousand evil faces jibe and jeer him. Let him lie down and die, what is the right. And where is justice in a world like this? But, by and by, earth shakes herself impatient ; And down, in one great roar of ruin, crash Watch tower and citadel and battlements. When the red dust has cleared, the lonely soldier Stands, with strange thoughts, beneath the friendly stars.” The Lord, says David, “remember all thy offerings and accept thy burnt sacrifice.” Ami he does it. Men may forget, but God does not. No offe ing in his name, is lost sight of, nor burnt sacrifice is ignoretl. But it must be a whole burnt offering--throug*a self-dedication. This puts us into God’s hand, and once there, nothing shall pluck us away. Indeed there are two hands for the consecrated soul and we are. so to speak, covered. There is something suggestive in the very collocation of the senwnces: “As the Lord commanded Moses, so the children of Israel did, and they divided the land." Obey and conquer, do and divide. "I will tell thee of the secret and the way, If tho^ wilt obey." This division of the land was one of the most remarkable governmental feats in all history. Fitness, taste, capacity and inborn jealousy and cupidity had all to he taken into consideration. That, by the method of the lot. every man found his rightful place can only be accounted for on the understanding that God was in the disjxisition of it all. "The lot is cast into i the lap: but the whole disposing thereof I is of the I .ord. The division of the land was, moreI over, a great pvm e-making act. Nothing could have been better for the tranquility of Isr a l or for her establishment as a nation. Land in severalty is the an; proved poli< y of statecraft to-day in the pacification and improvement of a people. Satan finds mischief, for idle hands. Pastors, as well as governors and parents, find it so. In this sense also, "divide and conquer." Qu qli < ’ab b- "Thou knowest the thing whi< h the Lord said." The Lord loves to be reminded of his promises. And what had God said? "But my servant, Caleb, be. atise he had another spirit with • him. and hath follow. '! me fully, him will I bring into the land wlowe into he wont.” Plead the promise of God. As said the pious handmaid of the Lord. "I've His word for it. and I’m holding Him to it.” "My brethren that went up with mo made the heart of the people melt.” The watehman. the seer may speak a weakening or a strengthening message. There those to-day. appointed to the outposts of Israel, who by their worldly spirit and worldly counsel make the heart of the people to melt. Thank God. however, there are still Calebs and Joshuas that sta* the invisible things of God and report accordingly to the uplifting of languishing Zion. "I wholly followed the Lord my God." Whole following, simple, soulful surrender is the secret of it. Caleb was like a little child, holding fast to the father's hand, his own will lost in that of the parent. His scripture analogue is at Eph. 5: 1. which we call our Caleb text: "Be ye therefore followers of God, as dear children.” Affectionate children follow close. Indeed. “Caleb” means dog. and be verily, like the faithful hound, dogged his master's steps. A dog is the only animal that follows. “As my strength was then, even so is my strength now." a notable declaration. And yet not strange. He was getting his strength from daily contact with God. whom he wholly followed and with whom are the sources of all power. Even so speaks the word: "He giveth power to the faint and to them that have no might He increaseth strength. Even the youths shall faint and be weary, and the young men shall utterly fall. But they that wait upon the Lord shall renew (exchange) their strength; they shall mount up with wings as eagles; they shall run and not be weary; and they shall walk ami not faint.”—lsa. 40:29-31. "I shall be able to drive them out. as i the Lord said.” Just like Caleb. He is speaking in the same language as of old. I You could shut your eyes and sti»l know, as it were, that it was Caleb that was talking. Ue had learned his lesson well. And now know we where he learned it—of the Lord. Over at Numbers 13:30. forty years prior, Caleb was saying, "Let us go up at once and possess it; for we be well able to overcome it.” How came he to have such confidence and assurance among his timid fellows? Here he gives us the clew: "I shall be able to drive them out. as the Lord said.” God told him. Has he told you? What a noble character is Caleb! He is an example of the boldness, courage and resolution that conies with whole surrender to God. Greatness in simplicity—child greatness, this is the lesson of Caleb’s life. Next Lesson—“ The Cities of Refuge." —Joshua 20: 1-9. Sunshine and Shadow. “Till a man has learned to be happy without sunshine, and therein becomes capable of enjoying it j erfectly, it is well that the shine and the shadow should be mingled, so as God only knows how to mingle them. To effect the blessedness for which God made him man must become a fellow-worker with God.”—George McDonald. If you ask a boy how his boil is, he will take off the bandage and show you.

PRESIDENT OF TWO BANE’S Thought at Times He Would Have to Give Up the Fight, but Perseverance and Science Conquer His Troubles. From, the Republican, Cooperstown, N. Y. The people of the present are traveling a pace that would surprise the good old wives and knickerbockered grandfathers of a hundred years ago. Things are not done by degrees or stages in these days, but with a rush aud hurry. This constant hurry and ever present business pressure has not been without its effect upon the nerves of the race, and every year witnesses the increase of nervous disease. Medical science, however, has been keeping abreast with the times, and from the very demands made upon it there have sprung new departures and discoveries. A reporter recently met Mr. Philip G. Weiting, who is president of the Bank of Worcester, and of the Toledo City Bank,

J , ^^7 l 7 J of Toledo, la., at Worcester, Otsego County, N. Y„ and conversation drifted to the present topic. Mr. Weiting had been a sufferer from locomotor ataxia for twenty-five years. Knowing that he hud traveled far and wide iu search of some beneficial treatment for his affliction, the reporter asked the president to give some facts in his oWn case. He responded willingly. “Yes, I suffered twenty-five years from locomotor ataxia,” Mr. Weiting said, “and during all that time I was seeking some relief. Well, I found it in Dr. Williams’ Pink Pills. Os course I have it yet, to some extent, but I’m feeling better and my legs are stronger than ever before. Why, I could scarcely walk any distance at all, and could not stand long without my knees yielding beneath my own weight. A person cannot conceive of the suffering such a state brings upon the sufferer. "I would go to Florida every year, and visited almost every health resort in the country. I went to the Sanitarium at lowa Falls, lowa, and also the very best in Michigan, but they didn’t do me any good. I took the full course of their baths and massage and rubbing, without receiving the least benefit. I thought I would have to give up all hoi»e of ever curing myself. Finally I heard a good deal about Pink Pills through common report: and although, as I said, I had no faith in medicines of any kind, I was induced to try them. Well, I took several boxes without deriving any apparent benefit, but was advised to keep it up. So, when I went to Florida that year—•ibree years ago this summer—l took a large quantity with me. After some months I stopped taking them; but my legs had become so much stronger and my ataxia had been so moderated that I could stand and walk better than I had done for years. Pink Pills.did it, and you can well imagine how I feel toward them. They did what nothing else could do.” During the entire interview Mr. Weiting remained standing and evidently did not experience the slightest discomfort, in spite of the protracted period of his affliction. Although well along in years, he is still actively engaged in financial enter•prises that necessitate a vast amount of mental and nervous energy. Suffice it to say he lacks neither, but makes his influence felt wherever he is known. Besides being president of the Worcester Bank, Mr. Weiting is also president of the Toledo City Bank, of Toledo. lowa, wher® his advice and sound business policies ara a controlling element. His commendation of Pink Pills cams unsolicited, and with the sincerity of ona who feels what he says. Dr. Williams' I’ink Pills contain, in a. condensed form, all the elements necessary to give new life and richness to the blood and restore shattered nerves. They are also a specific for troubles peculiar to females, such as suppressions, irregularities and all forms of weakness. They build up the blood, and restore the glow of health to pale and sallow cheeks. In men they effect a radical cure in all cases arising from mental worry, overwork or excesses of whatever nature. Pink Pills are sold in boxes (never in loose bulk) at 50 cents a box or six boxes for $2.50, and may be had of all druggists, or direct by mail from Dr. Wiliams’ Medicine Company, Schenectady, N. A’. How Floridians Live in Summer. The qestion is often asked, “How da people manage to live in Florida during the summer?” That they do live, anil live comfortably, is evident. Few Floridians work very hard during the hot summer months, for food costs very little. The lakes and rivers are alive with fish, the ground is full of sweet potatoes, corn that will yield forty bushels to the acre is ripening in the fields, watermelons can be bought for live cents each, tomatoes are given away in many places, fruits are plentiful, Florida beef is cheap and nourishing, and many other things can be had for almost nothing—Jacksonville (Fla.) Citizen. The Kaiser as an Actor. The German Emperor is ambitious to win success also in amateur theatricals. This is the most difficult undertaking he has yet ventured on, and if he could be assured of absolutely um prejudiced criticism he might learn tha( there are metes and bounds beyond which even emperors cannot pass. Bucharest is known to-day as the greatest den of swindlers in the world. Even the great American crime centers cannot hold a candle to Bucharest. It is the exit, so to speak, the initiative station for the criminals of the Balkan States, whence they travel westward to Vienna, Berlin, Paris, London, Rome and New York. Vainglorious men are the scorn of wise men, the admiration of fools, the idols of parasites, and the slaves of their own vaunts.