.r, the Street Car Strap. ws Ills head toward the person whom t -a.ut.es. The Common Arab says, v,An aleiliitin” (“Peace be with iu" . lie then lays nis hands on his I'cast in order to show that the wish r.'ueeiis from the heart. 'Catarrh Can Not lie Cured ;:li LOCAL APPLICATIONS, as they in m r reach tho sent of the disease. Ca rrii i- a blood or constitutional disease, 11 in order to cure it you must take in ami remedies. Hall s Catarrh Cure is A™ internally, and acts directly on the *1 mid mucous surfaces. Hall’s Catarrh i !■' i< not a quack medicine. It was pre ril'd by one of the best physicians in this i'uiiit for years, and is a regular pre ription. It is composed of the best tonics ) ovn. combined with the best blood purl r- a, ling directly on the mucous sur l'lie perfect combination of the two gradients is what produces such wonder I results in curing Catarrh. Send for -t iniuuials, free I J. CHENEY & CO.. Props., Toledo, O. S"ld by druggists, price ibc. Hails Family Pills. 25c. ■" men not only have to set behind high a- ai the theatre, but they have to pay r them. DO YOU EXPECT To Become a Mother? If so, then permit us to ^ say that Dr. Pierce’s I Favorite Prescrip \ tion is indeed, ^ a true •i'j. “ Mother’s Friend,” FOR IT MAKES ■7W FOR IT MAKES ^Childbirth Easy „ system for parturi • , 'l5, »sMstinsr Nature and shortening t ile painful ordeal of childbirth ■ "»il of us terrors, and the dangers ^ lessened, to both mother and ,llu’Period of confinement is also lhe mother strengthened : -h ■ abl"Kla»t secretion of s ', u,t fl,r Ibe child promoted. for a large Hook UC8 pages), ••i:\s;Wara- A(lllress- World’s Association, 663 painless childbirth. rkii Hi nt, of Cfenvil/e, jX. V, > W h f; i"’-1 I)r- Piece's l-'a ; " ill! c[idj 0”0b|enl^ so Snod for a wo ( -"a-s last '■'amber. and Ue. '■!» : ! 51!' I had a .V'L' pound baby 'Vh™ I was l-""'1 1 was nut • • any :cay. j ’• °"t snfltr any , wlifii the ; : v ‘s born I walk “"'Ukt room . ’j'.-ci. ij( fittrai-t of* 'V1,1 oil hand n was , c,,!d weather •v.,,1,1 ,", V, •',KS- HCST. ': >'••«» a,,v aft" "‘I* ,akt' any cold, and i nil a... . * a,n or any other pain. nd I)r. Pierce’s Fa all due to rnt" S . ' ‘ rc-crit,. ,,, ,0d,a!'<1 I)r- Pierce’s Fa '"">r..\Ve<-d -I'nJ' ■t-°!nI)oun(1 Extract •• -r.'l the t-tri "-: ,sfU’e «KlltU living - rvthia.Mh "f thtm all- I suf . r tallies ' *1 ^ii\vTv°"i d |U®”et w*th . n cc-iihl not heln n had a doctor time mv ....'P m‘- very much, „ :nr- with in,. Mv,bLin’-V husband -v-i i,l,j ,vi.,.,: . -u> oal.y was only :'mVtoon,muls,IyldS1>and^“d i'j'0 r\u_ WMIII Qdllfa l ! 1:1: lATARRH •»«» < ' "arrenfei.,^-, ■ **it h* FI* ■ ■ e 8,lfrer®» EPiLKFSY? If rIiV«" LIUS, NERV1 ™ k,‘, -'eKH. T*ix,n co | PAIL rri—.llllx.r*a“u'y'Mo P®Bift&s?=r*i£= »'•«*. Th * and MY MENDING-BASKET. ft Is made of the stoutest of willow; It is deep and capacious and wlio: Vet the Gulf Stream that flows through Its borders Seems always to stand at flood tide! And the garments lie heaped on each others I look at them often and sigh, Shall I ever he able to grapplo With a pile that has grown two feet hU'h? There's a top layer, always, of stockings; These arrivo and depart every day; And the thin;s t hat aro play in? -button-but ton” Also leave without any delay. Hut ah, underneath there aro strata Buried deep as the oirth’.s eocene! Things put there the tlrst of tho autumn. Still there when tho trees have grown green! There are thin's to be rippad and made over There aro thin rs that gave out In their prime There are intricat) task >—all awaiting One magical hour of "spare time ” Will it come? Shall I evor possess U? I start with fresh hopo every day. Like a will- o-the-wlsp it allures mo; Like will o’-tln-wlsp fades away. For tho basket has never been empty, Du rill: ail of its burdened career, But once, for a few fjpetin r moments, When the baby upset it, 1 i*t year! —Bessie Chandler in Harper’s Bazar A Passive Crime. -—-—•— BY "THEDUUHKSS." CHAPTER IX—Continued. Ho draws a deep breath, and then rouses himself. Going up to Mrs. Neville, ho bids her good-night, in a low tone, that still does not, falter. •‘All this has been too much for you, and—inv cousin,” ho says gently, though without looking at Hilda. "To-morrow, everything can bo discussed more thoroughly, but for to-night enough has been said.” “We shall see you tomorrow, 1 hope?” says Mrs. Neville, anxiously. “I think not. It will bo bettor not,” says Dick, with a faint smile. •T shall have many things to see to, and my father will of course, require me. ” At this mention of his namo. Pen ruddock turns his head.and all pres ent notice how terribly his face has changed within tho last few minutes. As if all hono has died within him he looks crushed and broken and very pitiable. There is, too, within his eyes a somewhat vacant expression that contrasts very powerfully with his indolent demeanor of an hour ago. ••Eh, Dick?—eh, lad?” he says, in a confused fashion, putting his hand to his head and sighing deeply. “What are you saying of me? I heard my name—. Don’t believe them, Dick! It is all false, every word!” Then, in a tone of eager, almost ab ject entreaty, he adds in a whisper, “Don’t you condemn me, Dick! You have not the right to do that. It was all for your sake, Dick—all foi you. ” ••Come away. Come home with me, father,” says Dick, hurriedly and anxiously. A touch of deep pain, mingled with shame mars the beauty of his features as he listens to his fathor’s words, which are a confession of his guilt. “Home! Where is that now?” asks Penruddock vaguely, disregarding his son’s oft'ort to lead him from the room. “From the castle to the cot tage, that is a fall, indeed! And,” sinking his voice, “I can’t go to the cottage, Dick—the river is there!— always the river!” with a strong shudder. “And it never ceases—it flows on and on forever! I can hear it always in my dreams at night.” “Rouse yourself. You are dream ing now, 1 think,” says Dick, who is as pale as death. “No; not now,” says the old man. He looks a very old man indeed, so strangely altered are his features and mien. “It is too late now for dreams. If what she says is true, all is over, all is at an end.” “The end is not come yet,” re turns Dick bravely, throwing up his head with a certain proud gesture that brings tears into the eyes o: one who is watching him. He closes one hand firmly, a‘ though to defy misfortune while intc his fare there comes a nobility, a sense of dignity, that perhaps it lacked before. “You have still enough to satisfy every want,” lie says, addressing hii father; “and as for me, the world i before me, and I shall conquer it ii: defiance of fate and evil forlune. All is for the best, and we should bi thankful that the little one wu^ saved. You are thankful, father are you not? Say you are thankful,’ he asks, with extreme earnestness It was as though he had com pletely and entirely disassociate! the love of his manhood from tin delightful little companion of hi: earlier days. “tes, yes —ueepiy tnankful. shvi Penruddock, in a strange tone,hard ly recognizable.. “A weight is liftec from ray heart—a load from my sou — that lias lain upon them formani a year! Now it is raised ray hear' feels lighter. But,” looking help lessly around, "my head is bear in; the burden now. It feels like mol ten lead. And there is a sound as o many voices —and—” A deep groan escaped him; hi staggered, and,but that Dickhastih caught him in his arms would hav< fallen heavily to the ground. CHAPTER X. Forced to Be Happy. It is two months later, and alreadi Penruddock has lain for six week" within his quiet grave. For somi days after that fearful seizure—con ; *c(iuent on the destruction of al | those hopes he had purchased evei at the price of crime—he had lin I gered in an unconscious state, know ing no one hearing and seeing noth ln-ru sometimes murmuring , “the child drowned—I might have saved her—but, no—let her go—al |for“f boy-all for my son!” I Then the fertile, scheming brah had come to a standstill; tho heart, that in all its many years had known but ope puro affection, had ceased to beat, and i’enruddoek was no more. Mrs. Nevillo had called at Dick’s rooms, where the dying mnn lay, every day during his illness, and had seen Dick and conversed with him many times of his futher's state alone—no other topic had been touched upon. On two occasions Hilda accompanied hor, but on those days tho young man had been cither accidentally or wilfully absent. Not oneo during all theso long weeks had the cousins met. They had never, indeed, seen each other sinco that Inst momentous evening in South Audley street, when Es ther’s disclosure had made them change sides, and had changed tho fortunes of both: so happily for one, so disastrously for the other. Yet, about that time there was a policeman in that quarter who for many nights had kept a sharp watch upon a certain young man, woll dressed, but with hi9 collar turned up to his oars—looking upon him as a possible burglar, for ho would stand for an hour without flinching oppo site a certain house, gazing upon nothing —so far as X 91 could soo — except a faint streak of light that that came from an upper window. 1'inally X 91 grow tired or ashamed of his suspicions, and. comforting himself with the thought that this eccentric young man was either a harmless lunatic or an admirer of tho upper housemaid, let him gaze in peace. To-day is too lovely for descrip tion. “The sun has drunk the dew that lav upon the morning Brass;" the very birds are silent from oxce.ss of languor; the (lowers droop and grow pensive beneath tho heat, and all nature seems at rest. in the castle, on this golden Sep tember morning, scarcely a sound can be heard. Tho inner world seems as lazy, as averse to action of any kind as the world without. Three days ago Mrs, Neville brought Hilda down to her birth place; but the girl ha. refused to (ind comfort or pleasure in the grand old castle. Wealth has coino to her, and, for tho time at least, happiness has departed. There is a pallor in her cheeks, a fountain of hushed tears in her ex pressive eyes, that goes to Mimi’s heart; but having extracted a prom ise from Dick that he will not leave England without bidding them faro well, she can only wait patiently, if unhappily, for what is yet to come. It is coming very quickly, that for which she waits—the solution of all her doubts. Even as she and Hilda are sitting together in one of the morning rooms, silent, but full of thought, a footstep sounds in the hall without, the door is opened and Dick l’enrud dock stands before them, pale and haggard, but always the sane Dick in one pair of eyes at least. “I am very fortunate in having found you at home,” says Dick in his most formal manner, “I have come down here because I promised, and because I could not leave Eng land without bidding you good-bye.” “He takes Mrs Neville’s hand, and presses it warmly with a faint, very faint, smile. “Good-bye?” echoes she, in dis may, as though the fear of this hour has not been tormenting her for days. “Yes; I am about to leave the country never more to return to it.’ He has not dared to glanco at Hilda after the first involuntary look on greeting her. “Hut this is all so sudden, sc dreadful?” savs Mrs. Neville who is at her wits’ end. “What is your purpose in leaving? Where are you going?” “To New Zealand—any where. 1 hardly know whither; and. indeed, it matters very little, so long as I get well awav from the old world and all its associations.” “How you must hate tho old world!” says a soft voice closj tv him, that lias a suspicious tremble in it. “Do you mean to carry noth ing from it but re■>rets?” “Nothing!”—shortly. ••is every tmng lorgotten. asks the soft voice again, even more tremulously this time. “fan you , romember no ha]>py hours?" •‘My deepest regret.” says the young man. with inlinite sadness, “lies in the fact that I shall never be able to forget those happy hours.’ Mrs. Neville, kind and considerate soul that she is. has stepped into . the conservatory for tire time being, i | therefore they are virtually alone. I “Dick!" says Hilda, looking am; i | speaking very tenderly and very re . | proachfully. i “Don’t!” says I’enruddoek. hastily, j “Do any thing but speak to me in thal I tone, it is more than I can bear. , I For weeks 1 have been training rny . i self to meet you with proper cold ■ ■ ness, and now, by one kind word, . | with one gentle look you would seek ! | to undo all m,- labor." j "And why, if 1 mu ask. should , ! you wan’t to meet me with coldness?’ i She is very close to him by this , ! time, and lias laid her hand upon his i arm. ; “There is no reason why I should ! tell you. because you know.” I “I know! what is it that I know?’ “Do not torture me.” i j "i have no desire to do that. But : ! you have not yet said what it is thal . 1 know.” , I “Oh, cruel!" he exclaims. “Von j know that you are rich now, whilst i 1 have nothing, or next to it. 1—ir | fact,” says Dick, mournfully. “I am | no match for you now, whatever I | might have been before.” , “But you are the same Dick as yoi were then,” argues she. “except that you are a little more—I mran.agreal , deal moro unkind.” i . ••Am IP" says he. "It is very likely. Misfortune embitters us all." ••YVon’t you look at me, Dick?’’ “Thore is no need to look at you. Y'our image is engraven on my heart. 1 can soo you at every moment, and shall soo you, go whoro I may." ••Nevertheless, look at me; it may soften you a little. Oh, Dick, I don't wunt this odious monoy, but 1 do want you. Now I havo suid it" flushing crimson—"and you will not, l hope, think badly of me.” "I could never do that Hut it is impossible. Do not lotus talk about it.” His voice breaks a little. ••Then you refuse mo?" "Yes, bocauso it is for your own good. ” “No; bocauso 1 happen to havo more monoy than you possess Let us havo tho truth, ut all events. Say that that is roally what you mean." "Well, thon, yos, since you make me say it I could not bo indebtod to my wife for—for everything." "No doubt you are right," says Miss Ponruddock. "Pride before ull things, no matter how muny hearts may bo broken by it." Sho means to bo sarcastic, but only succeeds in being wretched. "Mlno is u just and proper pride," ho says. "Oh, very well! Thon it is not worth while, I suppose, to say any thing more about it?" "No, indeed," ho sighs. “And you a o quite determined to leave England foi'evor, and to go to Now Zealand?” "Uuite.” “Then,” cries she, “sinoo you in sist upon it, 1 shall givo this hateful money to a lunatic asylum, and, whether you like it or not, 1 shall go to New Zealand to.” ‘•Maud;” says Dick, in his over powering agitation forgetting her real name. ••yes; I shall. Nothing shall pre vent mo,” says Miss Ponruddock. And here, wo very much regret to say, sho so far forgets horsoif as to place her arms around his neck, and to hurst into toars upon his breast. So for the next few moments at least Ponruddock’s trip to the other side of the world is dolayed. Ho drops his hat and encircling her fondly with his arms for a full minute is quite ridiculously happy. Then he chocks himself and sigh ing deeply says, “There must be an end of this. This will novel- do you know,” in a most miserable tone. “Never?” says Hilda, who has quite recovered herself, and in whose blue eyes a malicious twinkle may now bo seen. Does not victory lie with her! No wonder, therefore, that she re joices. “Come over to this sofa," she says, “and as we must to please you give away our detestable though rathoi comfortable income, tell me, which do you consider the most deserving of all the asylums?” At this point Mrs. NevUle coming in and seeing them sitting together on apparently amicable terms, goei ‘vp to Dick and kissing him on oithei cheek, tells him without a word o warh.pg that he is a “dear boy,’ and asVorthy as any one can be o her dearest girl,” and that she ii happier tVday than she has boor for a very\dong time, and severa other things Viat are equally pleas ant to hear. which so overpow ers Dick that hfrvjias not,,,sp!licien courage to say anytntng that shal damp her satisfaction, and Hilda car ries the day. They have been married now foi four weeks and aro in Italy, ot Egypt, or St. Petersburg, or some whero—we reully have at the pros ent moment quite forgotten where. At all events we may safely saj that bo they where they may they are two among the very happiest mortals the world contains. TIIE END. I TUI He Got Work. ! A young lady, lately and happily j married, has a literary man for her husband, who does all of his work al home, it is very good work anc pays very well, and as they are sc newly wedded they are delightec with the opportunities for being al most constantly together. Recently they got a new servant, c buxom German girl, who proved herself handy, and also seemed tc take a deep interest in the affairs o the young couple. Of course she saw the husband around the house s good deal; but her mistress was no prepared for tho following: ••Ogscuso me, Mrs. Blank, but ! I like to say soraedings.” ••Well, Kena?” j “You won't bo mad by me, alrety ?’ “Why, what is it you wish t< : say?” . ; The * girl blushed, fumbled hei ; apron, stammered, and then replied j “Well, you pay mo if 1G moot—” “And 1 can’t pay any more,” suit | the mistress, decisively. "It’s not dot.” responded tho girl | “but I be willin’ to take $1.5 till —■ ! till your husband gets work!" Cold Will “Sweiit." Gold in transit across the Atlantic “sweats” no matter how tightly ii may be packed. It is usually sent ir stout kegs and squeezed in as tigh' as possible, but there is a reguiat i allowance for loss by attrition upor j the voyage, and in the course o years this loss to the commercia wcrld amounts to a large sum. < nilBlit the Thieve*. In Limington, Maine, a widow baited her Hour barrel, which hai 1 been frequently robbed, with pari: ; green, and then went out to call or ; some friends. .Next day a whole ! family in the neighborhood was sic! : with symptoms of arsenical poison . ing IN all receipts for cooking requiring a leavening agent the ROYAL BAKING POWDER, because it is an absolutely pure cream of tartar powder and of 33 per cent, greater leavening strength than other powders, will give the best results. It will make the food lighter, sweeter, of finer flavor and more wholesome. ROYAL BAKING POWDER CO., 106 WALL ST., NEW-YORK. Three Hnim am! an Inverted llitlnbow. Thu following is taken literally word for word from a rare copy of the Brighton (Knglund) Advertiser of June 0, 17117: *‘A rare phenomenon is re ported from St. Mala Recently during1 the afternoon, between the hours of -t and 5, three perfect suns were seen all in a row above the western horizon. The sky was very clear at the time, and there was no one who saw the unusual sight that believes it to have been a nlirugo or other atmospheric illusion. The central seemed inoro brilliant than his two luminous attendants, and be tween the three there seemed to be a communication in the shape of waves of light composed of all the prismatic colors. At about the same time a rain bow made its appearance at a short dis tance above the central sun, upside down—that is to say, the two ends pointed toward the zenith and the how's neck toward the horizon.” Poultry In Profltulile. If interested In poultry send 4c in stamps for our 1 Stir* catalogue of Incubators and Brooders, with useful hints. Des Moines Incubator Co., 1IK2 K. I-oeust, lfes Moines. Ills Scheme for Itcvenge. "Madam,” said the occupant of one of the front, seats in the main balcony, turning to the lady in the enormous hat, who sat almost directly behind him, "this is a better seat than yours, but 1 will take it as a favor if you will change with me.” “Sir!” “I mean it, madam,” he persisted. “The man two seats behind this one kicked mo out of his oflice the other day because 1 dunned him. I want to get even with the scoundrel.”—Chicago Tribune. Tlie Modern Mother Has found that lior little ones arc im i proved more by the pleasant laxative, ' iSyfup of Figs, when in need of the 1 laxative effect of a gentle remedy than by any other, and that it is more ac ■ ceptable to them. Children enjoy it and it benefits them. The true remedy. Syrup of Figs, is manufactured by the ^ '.alifornia Fig Syrup Co. only. Wheat aa Feed for Cows. The last quarterly report of the Kan i ■-.as state board of agriculture is largely i ’ devoted t6 the subject of feeding Wheat to farm animals, lie ports from many farmers from different sections of the state are all to the same general effect as relates to the feeding wheat for milk. Wheat is pronounced by them almost without exception to be a very superior feed, from 10 to SO per cent better than corn and better in mixture than when | fed alone, as might be expected. ! If the Ilaby Is Cuttiug Teolb. ie sure and line that old and well tried remedy, SJita. i ft*inblow’s Soothing Syhit for Children Teething Billiard Table, second-hand. For sale : cheap. Apply to or address, H. C. Akin, | Till 8. 12th St.. Omaha, Neb. Winter Tourist Ticket* Via the Wabash ; Railroad j •Are now on sale to all the winter resorts of | the South, eood returniua: until June 1st, j ’95. Also Harvest Emtkhion Tickets to ! all points south on excursion dates. Jn ad 1 dition to above, Railroad and Steamship tickets to all points in the United States and Europe, at lowest rates. For rates, tickets, excursion dates and full informa tion or a copy of the Home Seekers Guide, • call at Wabush Ollice, 1&02 Furuam street, >r write . G. N. Clayton, , N. W. F. Agt, Omaha. Neb. The best a man can do is so poor that he Is usually ashamed of himself. A i)iinrt of wheat contains more nutri ment than a bushel of cucumbers. More gratification of tbo upj otito is very likoly to shorten lift*. In tho public schools of Franco U4.*J pet* rent of 1110 pupi's aro shortsighted. flefiMmaii'at'ttmiihor Ire* with