INTERNATIONAL PRESS ASSOCIATION.
i BY PERMISSION OF
HAND. MSNALLY & COL.
CHAPTER VIII.
3-ARNAC and the
count, after attend
ing Madame de
Montaut to her car
. rlage with polite
r Inquiries and con
dolence, went each
his own way, and
the other three
drove back to Bed
ford Square.
Dick was relieved
tn can hnw nillt'klv i
the open air restored the color to Ca
milla’s cheeiis: she was herself again
by the time they reached home, and
seemed to have recovered even the
gaiety which had been conspicuously
absent from Iter manner all the morn
ing.
He stayed an hour or two. and was
Induced to tell many stories of the sea.
The colonel listened for some time, and
then excused himself on the plea of hav
ing letters to write. "But l hope you
will dine with us,” he added.
"Thank you," said DleU. ruefully: “I
wish I could; but my lawyer Is coming
to sec me on business at 4 o'clock: he is
an old family friend, and I asked him
to stay to dinner.” And. In fact, ho
tore himself away soon afterward.
When he had seen him out of the house
the colonel came back to the drawing
room smiling and rubbing his hands to
gether with an appearance of great
good humor.
"Well, Camilla,” he said, "and when
will It be convenient to you to pay me?"
"Pay you what?”
“Have you forgotten? You wagered
your fortune that Eatcourt would not
help tin."
She started to her feet; terror. In
credulity, anger, and terror again,
flashed In her glance and shook her
voice.
“Well," she cried," “what then; what
then?"
"Why, then, of course, you have lost."
“You are lying," she cried, fiercely.
“That would be useless here." he
said: “one can not deceive oneself. But
surely,” he expostulated, "you can't
pretend to have misunderstood him all
this time?"
"What time?” she asked. In faint de
spair.
"This morning.” he replied. “I
changed my mind again, and decided
In favor of writing. At 10:30 I sent him
that If he kept our appointment for 11
o’clock at Great Bussell atreet 1 should
understand him to have accepted our
proposal. He kept the appointment, as
you know; you saw the friendliness
with which he met his new confeder
ates, Carnac ana nabodsr.ges; and 1
mm surprised,” he continued, “that ho
did not hint to you his acceptance of
your cause and your guidance.”
“You have ruined a man’s honor,"
she cried, "and a woman's happiness;
but you shall not have youi^ way with
both of us; If he goes with you, I stay
behind." And she left the room before
he could find an answer.
Dick, in the meantime, stepped with
m swinging pace along the streets, look
ing exultantly back upon the brightest
day In his memory, and forward to a
yet brighter one tomorrow. He sprang
up the stairs to hts room, and burst
gaily in. His glance traveled to the
mantel-piece, where his letters were
usually placed; today there were two,
and he hummed a tune as he took them
In hi* hand. They were both from
known correspondents, and quite un
interesting: but a third. lying near
them, was directed In a handwriting
that he had never seen before.
Ha was surprised to find, on turning
ft oven, <that this last one had been al
ready opened, but he Immediately for
got this in bis astonishment at the con
f.V‘
The letter was not signed, but there
was no mistaking the source from
which It came; the words “my sister-in
law and 1“ brought a flush to his face.
He was amased, bewildered, over
whelmed.
Before be -could collect his scattered
senses the door opened, and "Mr. Wick
erby'waa announced. On the thres
hold e$ood the lawyer l>e had been ex
pecting. agray-halred. sharp-eyed, pre
cise-looking man of 6S or more, with
hta hat la one band and a bag In the
other.- ' ;' • 1 ' ' 1 ■
“Good day, air." he said. And then,
with* a-quick glance from Dick’s trou
bled ‘face to the paper In his hand, he
added: “Anything wrong? No bad
news, I hope?"
Dick Jumped to bis feet, took the hat
bag from his visitor, and drew a chair
up to the fire for him.
“Ton must excuse me, Mr. Wicker
by,” he said; “I’m In a regular mase
over this extraordinary note.”
“Let me pee,” said the lawyer.
Dick mechanically handed it over to
him. and tried to put hla own ideas in
order while the other read In silence.
; "Dear me!” said Mr. Wlckerby, look
tug up at last, “this Is a cool fellow,
upon my word! He pretends to be a
friend of yours. Do you recognise the
writing?"
I “No." replied Dick, “I never saw it In
my life; but—"
•' “But you can guess the author, eh?
Hm—ra. so much the worse! if you will
excups., uty . freedom. , Captain Est
couyt—’*
“itopr cited Dick. *1 must warn
you that these are Intimate friends ol
mine,” and he blushed crimson.
Mr. Wiekerby looked at him curtous
Jy. -“They must be," ho said, “very in
timate,, I should say. to venture upon
•uch a proposal aa this.
cried
Itr cried Dick, "you don’t
4 * S* Hi , V „ » . » r
'' :
**#■***.'£;g< „ * f •
" r;_i .•
BY HENRY S/E.WBOLT
suppose he meant It seriously? It's a
Joke, of course."
The lawyer shrugged his shoulders.
“Not In very good taste as a Joke,” he
said; "but after all It doesn't matter;
the letter contains Its own answer, and
there’s an end of It.”
“What do you mean?” asked Dick.
“.How does It contain Its own answer?"
“Silence, In tills case, was to give Re
fusal; consent was only to be Inferred
from a particular act.”
Dick was thunderstruck at this, and
lost his head.
“But I went," he stammered.
"Went where?” naked the other,
sharply.
“To Great Bussell street.”
“You went to Great Bussell street?
And what, In the name of goodness, did
you do that for? Do you know, Captain
Kstcourt,” he continued, severely,
“what we lawyers call this kind of
thing? “Adhering to the sovereign's en
emies’; ’levying war against our lord
the king’—that's what we call It, sir.
An overt act of treason, and you and
your friends make a Joke of It!”
"But that was not why I went,” said
Dick, In confusion. “I hadn't had the
note then. The man himself had al
ready asked me to go for quite a differ
ent purpose.”
Here the maid entered to lay the
cloth, and both were silent.
"I’ll explain It all to you after dinner,”
said Dick. “In the meantime let us
settle the business you came about.”
This was done, and occupied them
for somewhat less than half an hour,
at the end of which time they set down
to table.
Dick was preoccupied, and the con
versation dragged. His guest eyed him
doubtfully from time to time, and he
was uneasily conscious of the fact.
Presently he got up and went to the
bell.
“I quite forgot,” he said, as he pulled
the cord, "I never asked about that
note being open.”
“I don’t understand," said Mr. Wlck
erby.
“The seal was broken when I found
it.”
The lawyer looker puzzled. “Sure?”
he asked.
“Certain," Dick replied. "The letter
had been opened, beyond a doubt."
“That’s awkward. I’m afraid any one
who may have read it would think you
kept queer company.” *
The maid appeared in answer to the
bell.
"Jane.” said Dick, holding up the let
ter, “who brought this?”
"The gentleman wrote it here, sir.”
“Excuse me,” said Mr. Wlclcerby, In
terrupting. “but I should like to ask
her a question or two; I’m used to this
kind of thing, you know."
“All right,” said Dick; “you’ll do It
better than I should.”
The lawyer turned to cross-examine
Jane, who was beginning to be
alarmed.
"What gentleman?" he asked.
“I don't know his name, sir.”
“Did yoli know him by sight?”
“Yes, sir; he came here once, a week
ago, with Captain Estcourt.”
“What time was it when he wrote the
letter?”
“About 10:30 In the morning, sir, as
near as I could say.”
“Did you see him fasten it up?”
“Yea, sir; I brought him the wax and
held the taper myself.”
“What did he do with It then?”
“He gave It to me, sir, and I put
It on the chimney-piece.”
“You are sure the seal was unbroken
then?”
“Yes, sir; quite sure.”
“And who has been In here during
the day?”
“No one, sir, but me and Captain Eat
court,”
"Tnen," said the lawyer, with sever
ity, “It was you who broke the seal;
coroe now, tell the truth.”
“No, sir; Indeed, It was not,” said the
girl, In great distress.
"Who was It. then?"
“Captain Estcourt, I suppose, sir,”
she replied, almost In tears.
"But he was out."
“1 thought he must have coroe back,
sir, and gone out again. I remember
noticing that the letter had been opened
when I came In to see to the Are, and
I said to myself. ‘Then he must have
been home again.’"
“What time was that?"
“That would be about 11, sir.”
“You’re certain no one else oame in?”
“They couldn’t have done, sir, without
ringing. Captain Estcourt, he has’ a
latchkey, but others must ring.”
Mr. Wlckerby «aw that she was not
likely to be shaken from this theory.
Whether It was true or not. It was her
onlv possible method'of clearing her
self from the charge of having opened
the tatter.
“fihtnk you,” he said; "I daresay you
are Wuht. Captain Estcourt must have
forgotten. That will do, Jane, and you
needfc’t trouble yourself about It.” '
The girl fled with alacrity, and Mr.
Wiektrby turned to Dick, who was
fumtnv with Impatience.
“Well," he asked, “what do you say
to that?”
“What confounded nonsense all this
Is!” cried Pick; “as If I didn't know that
I never set eyes on the thing till this
afternoon, just two minutes before you
came in! I shall think no more of It.”
“That Is all very well,” replied his
companion, “but the question- Is, will
all these other people think no more of
it, too?"
“What other people?’’
“Well, there la first the gentleman
who sent the Invitation, and no doubt
supposes you to have accepted It with
your eyes open; secondly, these French
men he mentions—did you meet them,
too?”
“Oh, hang them, yes!” groaned Dick.
"Thirdly, the person or persons, un
known, who opened and read this let
ter; and fourthly—let me see—oh, yes
—the lady spoken of as ‘my sister-In
law.* ”
Dick turned crimson, and his compan
ion fixed a penetrating glance upon him.
*•» •
■.W
r
"Do you know," he said, "I think, my
dear Estcourt, it might be better for
you If you made a clean breast of it.
I’m an old confidential friend of your
people, and you know I will keep your
counsel.”
“I give you my word,” cried Dick,
“there's nothing more to tell than thl3:
I know Colonel de Montaut—the man
who wrote this letter, you know—pretty
well: nml as for Marlamc de Montaut—”
“Yes?” inquired Mr. Wickerby.’“And
as for Madame—?”
“Oh, you understand,” said Dick,
with despprate embarrassment, “she's
the only woman In the world; but no
one could ever think r.ie capable of dis
loyalty, and she least of all.”
“Hm—m,” said the lawyer, ”1
couldn't, perhaps; but women have a
high estimate of their own power, and
some of them love to exercise it, too.”
“Some of them!” Dick burst out, in*
dignantly; “she’s not ‘some of them.’
She wouldn’t accept the help of a trait
or, much less ask for it.”
He was becoming Irritated beyond his
self-control, and Mr. Wickerby hast
ened to leuve this part of the subject.
"The question now is,” he remarked,
"what you are to do.”
“Do!” cried Dick. “I shall write to
Colonel de Montaut at once, and call to
morrow morning to explain the mis
take.”
Stop a moment," said the lawyer.
"I’m not quite sure that that’s your
wisest plan, though, of course, It Is the
natural one to think of first. Let me
Just put the case before you as It looks
to an outsider—not to me, mind you,
but to an impartial stranger; to a Judge
or Jury, for instance."
Dick looked nervous and sulky, but
said nothing, and Mr. Wickerby went
on in a clear, precise tone, marking off
the points on the fingers of his left hand
as he proceeded:
“An English officer,” he began,
“makes friends with a Frenchman—a
strong Bonapartist—and falls In love
with a relative of this gentleman, much
attached to the same cause. He goes
often to their house, and Is frequently
seen In their society.
"On Saturday, March 24, 1821, he
leaves home at 10:30 In the morning. Im
mediately afterward a letter from his
Imperialist friend arrives, referring to
previous conversations, arid asking him
to Join in a treasonable plot. A refusal
Is to be easly Implied by mere silence,
but the consent, which Is plainly ex
pected, Is to be evidenced by attendance
at It o’clock at a certain place for the
purpose of meeting two fellow-conspira
tors.
“By 11 o’clock this letter has been
opened and read. No one has entered
the house since our friend left it, unles,
Indeed, he returned himself. The maid
who received the note, with seal Intact,
Is positive on this point; and to save
herself would probably, under pres
sure, swear that she heard him come In
again.
"At 11 o'clock he Is at the place named
—for quite a different purpose, he says,
but admittedly at thfc Invitation of these
same Bonapartlsts. The other conspi
rators are there too, and a cordial in
troduction takes place. His conduct
does not appear to .have aroused any
doubt In their minds as to his accept
ance of their overtures.
"Confronted with this array of facts,
our friend proposes to put himself right
by explaining matters to the Bonapart
lsts and even to commit the Imprudence
of expressing his regrets on paper.
‘Liters scripts manet.’ My dear Est
court, no prudent man ever writes a let
ter when ho can avoid It. Tour disap
pointed friends would have you in a
trap here. You'd much better run away
quietly, and take a holiday somewhere,
without leaving your address. When
they’ve come to grief and got hanged
for their pains—”
“What the devil do you mean?”
shouted Dick, In exasperation.
“Then you can come back In safety,”
continued Mr. Wickerby. “But if you
write, they’ll have undeniable evidence
that you received their proposal, and
you’ll have to choose between keeping
the secret—which is a felony known by
the unpleasant name of ‘misprison of
treason’—and giving them up to Justice,
which, I take it, you are even less like
ly to prefer.”
His ironical tone and incontrovertible
logic infuriated Dick.
"Damnation!" he roared: "why can’t
you let me go my own way? I know
my friends better than you do, I should
hope!"
“I hope so, too,” replied the lawyer,
offended In his turn. "I will leave you
to your own way, as you desire, and
hoiie to hear no more of this business.
I beg you to notice that I do not know
where your friends live; I did not even
catch their names; and I understand
that the whole affair is a practical J Jke.
I wish you may live long to laugh at it."
He took up his hat and bag and left
the room. Dick heard the front door
twing heavily behind him, then made a
quick gesture of defiance, and sat down
at his desk to write to Colonel de Mon
taut.
(TO HI CONTINCBD.)
Dourgot Praises Yankee Women.
What, then, has M. Bourget to say ot
the American woman? To begin with,
he seems bewildered with her com
plexity, for he calls her In turn an Idol,
an enigma, an orchid, an exotic, while
she typifies. In a country as yet with
out an Ideal, the yankee’s devotion to
sheer force of will. She Is not made to
be loved. She does not want to be
loved. It Is neither voluptuousness nor
tenderness that she symbolises; she Is
a palpitating objet d’art, at once sumpt
uous; alert, intelligent, and audacious,
and as such the pride and luxury of a
new and somewhat defiant civilisation.
In fine, M. Bourget’s language on the
subject is so magnificent that we
should write him down a romanticist
pure and simple were it not that, In the
the course of his analysis, he shows us
another side of the picture. The pur
ity of the American girl, the author of
“Le Disciple” tells us, is not to, be ques
tioned. She is coquettish as' well as
calculating, and as frankly mercenary
on occasion as she is naively self-cen
tered. Clearly, it is the individualism
of the American woman that surprises
the critics of the Batin race, for north
erners have little difficulty in under
stand!" g a nature which seeks Its Inter
est as much in globe trotting and self
culture—or shall we call It self-ad
vancement?—as In mere ebullitions of
passion or sentiment.
By actual experiment It has been as
certained that the explosive power of
a sphere of water only one inch in di
ameter is sufficient to burst a brass
vessel having a resisting power of SV
000 pounds.
> -j£fi
DAIRY AND POULTRY.
INTERESTING CHAPTERS FOR
OUR RURAL READERS.
Bow Successful Farmer* Operate This
Department of the Farm—A Few
Hints us to the Care of Lire Stock
and Fonltrjr.
i AKE a building
that will hold 59
cows, say 28 feet
wide by 108 feet
long and 14 feet
high. The first
story should be 10
feet for tho cows,
with a 4 foot loft
for meal and cut lit
i • ter. a ouuaiug ui
this width and size
tan be built of light tim
bers, say 2 by 4 inch studding,
balloon frame. 4s the roof is narrow
the rafters can be light and need no
purlins. Board it with neat siding and
line it or plaster inside! With well ar
ranged windows and air ducts you have
light and ventilation as thoroughly un
der your control as in the living room
of your house. Such a building as this
can be put up for one-third the cost of a
56 by 60 foot bank barn and be infinite
ly better as a place to house cows. Two
objections will probably be urged
against this single purpose barn—first,
that you will need a large barn anyhow,
for the storage of hay and grain, and,
secondly, that it will be inconvenient to
get the coarse provender from the stor
age barn to the cow barn. In answer to
the first objection I can say if new
buildings are to be put up, build them
long and narrow, as in the case of the
cow barn before described, for the same
saving in the cost of the smaller sized
lumber can be made. Lumber of what
we call yard sizes costs $12 to$15 per
thousand. Sawed sizes cost $18 to $20,
and quite large sticks, which have to be
of good pine, may cost $30. Such a
building as above indicated can be built
of yard sizes and would not cost over
half as much as a square bank barn of
the Chester county pattern of the same
capacity. If your old barn is good, take
our your basement stables, drop your
bays and so Increase the storage ca
pacity.
As to the second objection, every
farmer with land enough to put on 40
or 50 cows to 100 acres will surely have
a silo and cut his fodder and his hay,
and with well arranged hanging tracks
can take his cut feed across his barn
yard into his cow barn with more satis
faction than in the old way of taking
forkfuls of hay and sheaves of fodder
through the dark and narrow entries.
An extension of this idea of single
purpose barns would suggest a horse
barn also, which in many ways would
be preferable to stabling them in the
basements of bank barns. We used to
imagine that great straw sheds were
needed for the storage of litter, the shel
ter of the stock and the protection of
the manure. Now we haul our manure
directly to the fields, our cows are not
let ottt when they require shelter, and
the straw should be cut into inch
lengths at the time of thrashing, in
which case it can be housed in one-third
the usual space, and actually costs less
than to store it away uncut.—Phila
delphia Ledger.
Western Pastures*
One of the foremost considerations
with the dairyman is the matter of
cheap and effective food. In the West
here, even at this comparatively early
day, the cry is for more pasture room.
As a matter of fact the absence of good
pasturage for the cows at about this
time of the year, as a rule, is com
plained about a good deal more in this
section than it is further East where
they have learned to depend upon
something better. It is now conceded
by dairymen who have studied all sides
of the question that the corn field will
furnish more of the right kind of food
for the dairy cow than will the pasture.
That is to say, turn the pastures into
cord fields and clover and alfalfa
meadows, then prepare the food for the
cows for every month the year around,
and it will be discovered that milk and
butter are produced at a lessened cost.
This manner of feeding necessarily
brings into requisition the silo. By
this means several advantages are had.
It is possible to feed through a long
drouth just the same as though the
pastures were green and without any
increase of cost. It is also possible to
feed through the long winter on a milk
producing ration that is grown on the
farm and is as cheap as grass .itself.
With the right kind of ration for win
ter feeding it encourages more of win
ter dairying, and consequently greater
profits to the butter maker. This
branch of conducting the dairy is but
one branch of what is known as in
tensive farming. It is found to be in
keeping with the idea of cutting down
the acreage of the farm, and of putting
more of both brain and brawn labor
into those acres. This system is work
ing well in practice further east, and
it is but a matter of time when it will
be found more thoroughly engrafted
into our Western ways.—Nebraska
Farmer.
Amateur Tests.—We once knew of a
man that bought a good many cows
every year for his city dairy. It was
before the advent of the Babcock test,
and for that reason he was very ex
cusable In using a more primitive
mode. He would get the .milk of the
cow offered for sale and set It over
night in a goblet If It showed a good
thick cream In the morning, he bought
the cow, provided her milking capacity
was fairly good. This might do for
cows to be used in a milk dairy, but It
would be very unreliable for cows to
be used In a creamery or for the pri
vate dairy. This, for two reasons:
First, Btyne cream is much more com
pact than others, and a cow whose
cream was five-sixteenths of an inch
thick might really contain less butter
fat than one four-sixteenths inches
thick. Second, the cream in some milk
rises very much slower than in other
lots, due largely to the size of the but
ter globule.
Uncertainty of Scores.
A writer in Ohio Poultry Journal
says: There is no doubt but that the
A. P. A. can recommend certain per
sons as judges, and require them, be
fore that is done to be examined as to
their qualifications for such position,
but in that event will all societies and
associations employ them? If they did
not,would it not lead to another rebel
lion, in comparison to which the score
card affair would be a pigmy? Would
it not furnish a pabulum for poultry
writers to ventilate their literary at
tainments pro and con for a long time?
The judge, to suit all, must be espe
cially endowed with certain qualities,
among which might be mentioned well
versed in the business, which means
tact and experience; he must be quisle,
agreeable, absolutely accurate, unvary
ing in judgment, have a retentive mem
ory, possessed of patience, and to be.
able to measure up defeated exhibitors
he must be a phrenologist, a physiog
nomist, and a psychologist or
hypnotlzer. In fact, such a man
cannot be found, and therefore, re
sort must be had to those possessing
fewer virtues. If a judge is required to
nse a score card he will have between
twenty and twenty-five subdivisions of
a fowl to examine, each of which may
be defective in from one to six or more
places, and all such defects will vary in
from one-fourth to five or more points
in valuation, and in a class of twenty
fowls his mind or attention, it is possi
ble, will be or may be brought into di
rect operation over 7,000 times, and
what is expected is that he shall go over
and over the same specimens time and
time again and have the results exactly
alike; or if after a week has elapsed a
tew of the specimens included in the
twenty named meet him elsewhere, he
is expected to place them in the same
notches again as a test of his expert
skill, ability and honesty, no matter
what changes may have been made in
the circumstances and conditions sur
rounding them—a thing impossible,
and its like or analogy is not found in
all nature, a thing which cannot be
done whatever system of scoring he
uses, or whatever committees or asso
ciations recommend him; and it is safe !
to say that it is Impossible for a judge
to score fowls in any considerable num
bers, or at different times and places,
and make the scores exactly alike when J
done twice or more, but with a few ex
tra or fine fowls he may Bcore suffi
ciently close to have the results ap
proximately alike.
Greater Poultry Profits.
Years ago, says E. H. Davis in The
Poultry Monthly, the poultry business
was not as lucrative as It Is at the !
present time. During the winter j
months, although our poultry was well j
sheltered and fed and great care used j
to keep the buildings clean, giving j
plenty of fresh water, etc., we found at
the opening of the spring we had no
remuneration for our labor, as cost of
grain, scraps, potatoes, etc., far ex
ceeded the income of eggs.
We have now a better way of feeding,
and most excellent results have fol
lowed. We feed cut green bones in
fair quantity every other day, and some
of the time every day. They are inex- j
pensive, and with a good bone cutter
they make when cut fresh every day
so nice a food that we can only liken
it to a nice rare steak to a hungry man.
The fowls love it. They thrive, and the
chickens grow rapidly when fed on it.
The mineral part of this food gives
chickens material for their growing
bones, and for the laying hens the
shells, while the meat, gristle and !
juices in these green bones give ma
terial for the flesh to the growing
chickens and interior of the egg in
abundance.
So now our fowls, instead of being
overfat in winter, are giving us eggs.
Instead of being a sorry looking, de
jected, unprofitable lot during the molt
ing period, they are wide awake and
strong, and many of them go so far
as to give us eggs regularly at this
time. The grain bill being largely re
duced, the egg yield being increased
amd no loss from sickness, ail aid in
making our winter and spring record
very encouraging, and no one could in
duce us to neglect the feeding of green
bone freshly cut at all seasons of the
S'.lkea.
Manly Miles has this to say of the
above named breed: This breed, some
times called Silky, or Negro fowls, have
a very peculiar appearance; their
plumage being so unlike that of other
fowls, as to be scarcely recognized as
feathers; while the skin of the fowl is
a deep violet color, almost black, the*
surface bones being of the same hue
also, which gives it a rather unin
viting look when prepared for the
table. The flesh, however, is very deli
cate and white, and superior to that of
many breeds. The plumage has a soft,
flossy appearance, the filaments being
separate or single, and has been repre
sented by ancient naturalists as re
sembling wool. In 'describing this pe
culiar breed of fowls some say, “They
were covered with wool instead of
feathers”; others say, they were cov
ered with “hair like cats.”
These fowls are supposed to be na
tives of India, though some say they
originated In China. They are bred in
England to some extent. The cocks
weigh about four pounds, and the hen
about two and one-half pounds.
Scavenger Sheep.—The too common
opinion in regard to sheep is that they
are but scavengers, and fitted only to
consume the weeds and other wastes
on the farm; but out of nothing comes
nothing. If there is no proper food,
care and shelter provided, we must
expect ovr sheep to pine away and per
ish.—Ex.
j f Saved bv Her Corset,
l New York Press: Edward ICerapton,
a young' man employed for the last year
[ year in this city, called at the home of
■ Miss Laura Johocott to bid her good
I bye before leaving to accept a position
| in Brooklyn While taking his leave 1
| he pulled a revolver from his pocket
and fired at the girl's heart, .but the
bullet struck a corset steel, glanced and
did no harm. He immediately raised
j the revolver and shot himself through
' the temple, dying a half hour later
: without regaining consciousness. It is
\ thought he was deranged.
I -‘
! A wrong desire overcome is a tempta
tion resisted.
Scrofula from Infancy
Troubled my daughter. At times her
head would be covered with scabs and'
running sores. We were afraid she would
1
oecome blind.
We had to keep
her in a dark
room.
We began to give
her Hood’s Sarsa
parilla and soon _
we saw that she was better in every re
spect. The sores have now all healed.
I had a severe attack of the grip, was
left in bad condition with muscular
rheumatism and lumbago. Since taking
Hood’s Sarsaparilla
I am all right and can, walk around out
doors without the aid of crutches.” W.
H. Arehart, Albion, Indiana.
Hood’S Pills core all liver ills. 25c.
I
Jjyjobb’s
Sgsj
eyPills
cure all Kidney Troubles,
caused by overwork,
worry, excesses, etc.,
and all Blood Troubles
(Rheumatism, Gout,
Anaemia, Skin Dis
eases, etc.), caused by
sick Kidneys.
A few doses will re
lieve. A few boxes
will cure.
Sold by all drug
gists, or by mail pre
paid for 50c. a box.
Write for pamphlet.
HOBB'S MEDICINE CO.,
Chicago. San Franciaco.
THE LAND 07 THE
BIG RED APPLE
Tk« Last Goad Lud to be kid la the ••Cera Belt*'
at Lew Prices.
For INFORMATION regarding land In Barry Co..
MlSSClim* write to Capt. Geo. a.
Purdy, Pierce CJtyf Mo.; J. G. Mariott, Pnrdy, Mo •
*'uo8T' Caasville, Mo., or L. B. Sidway & Co
Monadnock Bldg., Chicago, 111.
CATALOGOfc rtfcfc.
ftflpojtjkaflrmipntftl
Patents. Trade-Marks.
Examination and Advice as to Patentability of
Invention. Send for “ Inventors’ Guide, or How to Get
a Patent” PATBCZ QTABSILL. ^ASHBTQTOIT. D. Q.
TarIceET™
HAIR BALSAM
ICleanse, and beautifies the half.
| Promotes a luxuriant growth.
Never Falle to Bestore Qr»
Hair to its Youthful Colon
Cures scalp diseases A hair tallinz.
Zachary T. Lindsay,
■* RUBBER GOODS
Dealers send for Catalogues, Omaha, Neb,
uissiibnuuuiu «ki* auruiPBciitn^ meuicaiea waters.
Address A. M. Dm, M. !>., 213 Columbus ava.
Boston.
Omaha STOVE REPAIR Works
Stove Repairs for 40,000 dtlTerent stove*
and ranges, i*o9 0onglashtMOmaha,9[eh
W. N. U., OMAHA, 46, 1895.
When writing to advertisers mention this
paper.
