ilete!y Paralyzed. Ians-are astounded *A PECULIAR CASE. ^ritkrn with Landry’* lalvsi* amt Let Itccovcra. Times. Philadelphia, Pa.) ,, with Landry's Paralysis ant. That means but little to the :,vman hut it means a miracle biciun. Such Is the rare experi f, | pallimore, of Mad.son, It is true that I had Landry’s • said Mr. Dalllmore to a re el- else the most celebrated „s ,.f London were mistaken. ' „n the 15th of March, this continued, “when I was in „k city, that I first felt the „S Of my trouble. I experienced in going upstairs, my legs m support me. I consulted a n who informed me that I had vmptom of Locomotor Ataxia, ihe case developed he pro (3 it a case of Landry's Paralysis nvlng the nature of the disease, me to start for my home and I gave up my work and on =t started for London, Ont. A .mu physician was consulted, vw- rapidly worse and on Satur ,,-il 7, several eminent physicians consultation on my case and in nip that I was at death's door, hut three to six days to live, ngcred on, by this time complete ijzed, my hands and feet being could hardly whisper my wants ,uld only swallow liquids, and muld realy have been a welcome comes tne part tnat naa as |>d the physicians. Rev. Mr. a clergyman who visited me In Ft hours, as he supposed, told me marvelous cures of paralysis fad been performed by Dr. Will I’ink Pills for Pale People. I to take the pills about April 28 week after that felt an lmprove J in my condition. There was a I, tingling sensation In the limbs Tuui been entirely dead and I soon to move my feet and hands, the ement continued until May 28, [ I was taken out of bed for a drive Brove the horse myself. By the Jof July I was able to walk |irs alone and paid a visit to Nla vly but surely I gained my old i and strength leaving Ontario for [ York on Oct. 11 and beginning Jrork again on Oct. 26, 1894. Cured Indry's Paralysis In eight months.” Vmtirm his story beyond doubt Mr. ■more made affidavit. |orn and subscribed before me Dec. AMOS C. RATHBUN. |al.) Notary Public. Williams’ Pink Pills contain all llements necessary to give new life! [richness to the blood and restore kered nerves. They are for sale by prugglsts, or may be had by mall i Dr. Williams' Medicine Company, Inectady, N. Y., for 60 cents per box,' |x boxes for $2.50. Wild and Domestic Animals, he question as to what constitutes a lestic animal and what is meant by' Iterm wild beast is becoming more more complicated. For while, the one hand, the supreme court of lyland has decided that the cat is a I animal within the meaning of the , the supreme court of appeal in |nce has just issued a decree to the ct that a wild bull is a domestic an This remarkable decision has i rendered in connection with the istion as to the illegality of bull ying. which has hitherto been quite niueh of a national pastime in the |th of France as in Spain and Portu Inasmuch as the court has now, ; and for all, determined that bull hting is contrary to law and there | criminal, no one need complain of s interpretation of the code, except the precedent that it affords of knsforming wild beasts into domestic ps by legal proceedure instead of by "inary methods of taming. "Short Journeys on a Long Road'* Jhe characteristic title of a profusely unrated book containing over one hun eh [ ages of charmingly written descrip of summer resorts in the country r, a“d west of Chicago. The reading i ,e.r ls new, the illustrations are new, a .he information therein will be new to most everyone. i™P>\ofL “Short Joumevs on a Long *,u le sent free to anyone who wid HeafforS6”n (t° P»yDP°et®8e) to Geo. Heafford, General Passenger Agent dcago, ni'llKaukee & St’ Railway, A Hermit’s Secret* iker'atn u*1!.- 0bserver: An under. c,ueHtned Key claims that he has c red a secret from an old hermit nich promises to revolutionize the art He learned i* of an f \\W v-Wh0hv*d inthe mountains 1^1*3Ia» ln a lonely cabin, and the neighborhood believed sunted A aDn the househoh?tS ff' many a *»H Thatl?n- an n systeins °> anlf - caPa*WeCofaVaCUlt-V k a Sfoodlt *orllt isthe uomT improvement It b vev11 wi‘h trifle. ^ “ 2h tnisunderatooc too m iife m/.f °se " e love: Bui -••Si* i?» ISS£J“ ■,‘i '..V. ■u-t 7.-’~rl---T THE VETERAN’S LAST SONG. I am standing on the summit of % oentury o! years That hath measured the life 01 our nation : And I see adown the mountain a flood of blood and tears. That was shed for our country's salvation. And 1 see a mighty Lesion who for the na tion's life, Went forth In young manhood's frosh dory: And I see a mighty Legion who porlshed In the strife Now sleeping In garments stilt and gory. CHORUS And we're coin * soon to meet them In that bivouac of the soul, As the shadows around us slvinr warning And I want to see my comrades, when the ar.-cls call the roll. All ready for Inspection In the mornlnn We were boys when we enlisted and these wrinkled brows were fair, And our eyes were undimmed In their vision' And the "frosts” that never melt bad not gathered on our hair. And our step had not lost Its preolsion But the years have built their terraces on every comrades' brow. And are makes our weary limbs quiver. And the “frosts” are fallinr thick and we're on the double quick To the camp that Is over the river But tho' the veterans vanish their children still remain. The deeds of their fathers to cherish: And the cause for which we battled our chil dren will mainta'n, And the foes of our banner shall perish: For we battled not in vain If still that banner waves, Thro' ages our nation adorning And loyal hands shall plant it mid the flowers upon our graves, Till the grand reville in the mornln;. Lady Latimer’s Escape. BIT CHARLOTTE M. BRAE BE. CHAPTER XII. No one but myself knew how I dreaded that coming New Year for Lady Latimer. She had left off hating me now, poor darling; she told me she knew it had all come about for the best. “You acted rightly, Audrey,” she said to me one day, when the dismal snow was falling, falling as if it never meant to stop, and there was an un utterable stillness over everything round Lorton’s Cray. “Quite right, for you are a good woman, and could not do otherwise; but now I love his memory as I loved him in life. I feel as if I should almost win heaven if I could lie by his side in the grave. Ah! he has no grave; no—” . She burst into passionate weeping, and I could say nothing to comfort her; the dead man had been the only love of her life—the only worship that comes to us all sooner or later. Alas for those to whom, like her, it comes too late! She had been quietly content to stay at the old house, wrapped up in her own sorrow and the good she was trying to do to all around her with her husband's legacy. She did not know that all heaven, as it seemed to me, lay at my feet, and I did not dare to stoop my hand and pick it up. Lord Latimer found me alone in the cozy boudoir one dismal November day, when he came to see after the business of some of the es tate, and almost before I knew what he was talking about, he asked me to be his wife. My face spoke what my tongue could not utter, and he caught me in his arms and kissed me, not once, but a dozen times. “I think we have understood each other all along,” he said. “Look me in the face and tell me that you will be my wife, Audrey, my own.” I did not say it; I remembered my mother's words, and hesitated. Pres ently I told him what was in my heart, and how I could never marry him without the consent *of my parents, and I doubted its being given. It was not for me, Audrey Lovel, to aspire to be mistress of Lorton’s Cray. Lord Latimer laughed, and said it was all nonsense. “Your father will consent,” he said. 4 ‘I will go to him to-day and bring you his permission in an hour.” But my father refused flatly and un compromisingly, and would give no reason; and I went home broken hearted after I had seen my lover ride away, with a dark look of determinar tion on his face, to ask for an explan ation. I knew what my dear mother's fear had been; that I should give my heart away and have nothing in re turn, that Lionel Fleming was only amusing himself by a flirtation with me;Jshe did not know, dear mother, what a loyal heart she was misjudging. I heard my father’s reason and it near ly broke my heart. Never a rich man, he had been struggling for years with the difficulty of making both ends meet, and the boys had grown daily more expensive. He had seen a way, as he thought, by a safe speculation, to almost double his income by risk ing his small remaining capital; he had risked and lost. He had nothing now but his stipend, never enough to keep us in comfort; and mother was going to take in two boarders to spoil the dear home circle, and the boys were to be sent out into the world as they grew old enough to fight the bat tle of life for themselves. ± uuucimuuu nits reiusai now, ana 1 could feel with my father in his sor rowful pride. We were a proud race, we Lovels, and it would be said that the vicar had angled for the new Lord Latimer, and caught him for his daughter. Lionel pressed me very hard for the reason of the refusal; but I would not tell him—how could IP—that I was too poor to come to him even proper ly appointed as to outfit, if by any chance I should be allowed to marry him. “I shall be back at the New Year, my darling,” he said; taking me in his arms, as if he had never met with any rebuff, “and you will tell me tnen what it all means, and we will get out of the difficulty somehow. ” I would not see him at the New Year J made up my mind io that. No use for these heartaches, when no good could come of them; so I begged of Lady Latimer to let me go home for the holiday-time—it would bo tha last time we should be together, for the new state of things was to begin with the coming year, and home would be home no longer with the strangers in it and the big boys away. She had some female friends coming to her for the holidays—good women with missions and notions, and I did not feel at home with thorn somehow. She was taking to that sort of thing, though she was not half strong-minded' enough for it; and I had very little in common with the people it brought mo in contact with. There always seemed so much of self and so little of Christian charity in their proceedings that I had no sympathy with them; they could do very well without me. And so it came about that I was at home, very sad and heavy-hearted; but we wore to have a wonderful New Year, after all. It was a winter of surprises. On Christmas morning there came the news, through my father’s lawyers, that the risky specu lation had not been a risk after all, but a tremendous success. A check for a large sum was inclosed, and a request that at his leisure the Rever end Archibald Level would go to town and confer with them about the remainder. ■My father accepted it unsuspecting ly. I had my doubts as to where the meney came from, but I could not utter them. I expected I should Bee Lionel before long, and I did. I mot him in the lane leading to the vicar age, and he bent down from his sad dle, and said something about the sil ver lining turning up. I could not betray him. The revulsion of feeling after so much relief would have brok en my father’s heart. So I was very happy when the last day of the old year dawned bright and clear, as it had dawned on that day that seemed in the far past now, though it was only three years ago. The day could never be otherwise than a sad one for me, I thought; it will never be a sad one any more now. My father had been to London and learned that, instead of being a ruined man, as he believed, he was richer than he had been before; and I had won him over to say that perhaps, in the future, if things went well with him, he would withdraw the decisive “No” that had been his answer to Lord Latimer. I knew what that meant; we only had to ask now, and the permission would be given. Lionel was coming to the vicarage in the evening, and then—ah then! I could hardly persuaed myself that it was all real, and that I should not wake from a blissful dream, and find the two boarders invading our happy home, and the dear boys gone. It was growing dark and I was sit ting up in the old nursery, so full of childish memories of mischief and fun, when Millie, a tall slip of a girl now, and a person of importance in her own eyes, as the daughter of the house and mother’s right hand, came up with a mysterious look on her face. “There’s some one asking for you, Audrey, dear,” she said. “For me! Who is it?” I said with a sudden chill at my heart, for I fancied something must have happened to Lionel. “I don’t know,” she said. “It is you he wants; I told him father and mother would not be long before they came in, but he does not want them.” “Where is he?” “In the hall.” Millie evidently did not think much of my mysterious visitor. I hastened down, and there, under the lamp, stood a tall, white-haired man, rather shabbily dressed, who turned sharply as he heard my footsteps, and spoke in a voice filled with tears, it seemed to me. “Miss Love!,” he said, “I have come to you for news before I go any further —I have come straight from the ship. How is she? Where is she? I know that he is dead or I should not be here. For heaven's sake, tell me that she is alive and well—and free, or I shall go mad!” Who was speaking to me? What familiar voice was sounding in my ears? Why did the face of this stranger with the snowy hair take the shape of that dead man's features, and his eyes look at me with the eyes of the man whose anger I braved on that bitter winter’s night? I stared at him, feeling as if I were turning into stone. “Colonel North!” I gasped out, “is it you, or am I going mad?” He answered something; I saw his lips move, but the floor of the hall seemed to be rising up to meet me, and the walls and the dancing firelight to be joining in a wild whirl. I heard a voice say something about having frightened me, and then the tall figure vanished in a sort of mist, and everything was black around me. It was in Lionel's arms that I came back to life; my head was on his shoulder, and my mother was standing by my side. “Yes, it is true, dear,” she said, answering the question my eyes asked. “The colonel is not dead. He has come back after almost incredible hardships and escapes. He did not in tend to frighten you so.” He came to my side, a wan shadow of a man, utterly unlike the glorious specimen of manhood that I remem bered so well, and when I was quite myself again, he asked me if Lady Latimer would welcome him. “I should like to know that she for gives me,” he said, sadly. “If there can never be anything more between us, it would be a comfort to know that.” “She will only think of me as she rememoers me,” he said. “I am a poor, maimed creature, not fit for a gentle eye like hers to look at.” “If there were only enough left of you to hold your soul, she would love you all the same,” I said. It was an incautious speech, but it | was true. I The story of the colonel’s wonderful escape and the adventures he went through aftorward, before he could get away from his captors, is public property, and need not be repeated ; here; he had been found alive Under j circumstances that the natives thought miraculous, and they took possession | of him as a sort of dlety, an Invulnor ■ able creature whom nothing could I kill. It was long before he could get ! away—ho was watched too closely*, S and when he did. it was ; only to lie ill of fever for many | months In a hospital at Capo Town. : When he got well, he came straight back to Kngland and to the woman he had loved and wronged, hearing in South Africa of the death of her hus band. I nere is nothing' more to tell; what i should there be? 1 finish this story on | the eve of two wedding's. For some : time past there has been all sorts of ; preparation going on in King’s I kictub, Grand Katiids. Mich. A Glorious Time. New York Herald: Mrs. McGlue— Did yen have any fun at tho picnio, Mike? Mr. McGlue—Pun, is it? Well, phwln 1 tell ye that lvery member of the Kranch that isn't in the station Iiouro is in tho hospital, ye can see for yourself hhwat kind of a time we had. World’s Columbian Exposition Will be of value to tho world by illus trating the Improvements in the me chanical arts, and eminent physician* will tell you that the progress in medic inal agents has been of equal impor tance, and as a strengthening laxative Syrup of Figs is far in advance of all others. ■__ English Sunshine. Greenwich records, it is stated, ahow that for fourteen years there hss been an average of about twenty hours' sun shine lu London in December. This scarcely agrees with King William's statement that England haa a climate in which one can be abroad with pleas ure most days of the year and moat I. hours of the day. "Sanson'* Kaglo Corn Salve.” Warranted to 'cure or money refunded. Aik /oat druggist for It. Trice lft cente. Last year the sheep in this country grew 307,100,000 pounds of wool. Next Time Von Go West Take the Burlington Route's "Black Hills. Montana and Pugst Hound Express.” Leaves Omaha at 4:36 p. in. daily. 1 Fastest and best train to the Black Hills, northern Wyoming, the Yellowstone Na tional Park, Helena, Butte, Bpokane, Seat tle and Tacoma. For rates, time table, etc., apply to the local ticket agent or write J. Fiuxcts, G. F. & T. A., Burlington Route, _Omaha, Nebu < The world gives no pleasures without giving burdens with them. The three most common names in Eng land, Scotland and Ireland respectively are Smith, MacDonald and Murphy. Consumption kills more people than rills balls. It is more dead ly than any of the much dreaded etri- u demies. It is a steal thy, gradual, slow disease. It penetrates the whole body. It fis in every drop of »blood. It seems to >£*’: f work only at the rs lungs, but the ter- n rible drain and waste so on all over the body. To cure con sumption, work on kthe blood, make It ■pure, rich and whole some, build up the wasting tissues, put the body into cond£ tion for a fight with the dread disease. vt. Pierce s qokxcb s,-r Medical Discovery fight* in the right way. It will cure 98 per cent, of all cane* if taken during the early stage* of the disease. It# first action is to put the stomach, bowel*, liver and kidneys into good working order. That makes digestion good and assimilation a nick and thorough. It makes sound, healthy esh. That is half the battle. That make* 1. the “Discovery ” good for those who have not consumption, but who are lighter and 1cm robust than they ought to be. IF THOSE WHO HAVE against the Government will write to' BICKFORD, PmiiolVKuSt Att'y. 914 F tit.. Washington, D.C.,tf 1-* —*“ CLAIMS (they will receive a prompt reply. On uncovered ground. Outfit free. One or our* earned In W. P. O. Bos ran. New York ST. JACOB? 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