A Land Rat’s Exploits.
Chicago News: "There were a lot of
rats In the storage room of my stable,"
writes a citizen of Johannesburg. South
Africa, "and we had great difficulty In
getting at them. They were shy of all
traits and did a tremendous lot of dam
age at night, lying quiet all day. At
length I put In the room a square,
tin lined box. about two feet deep, and
In It placed some burned cheese. The
rats Immediately got Interested In the
cheese, climbed up the outside of the j
box, and, having got Inside, could not
ascend the slippery lining. In this way j
we killed a great many.
"One morning my children took a
cat, who was a very good ratter, and
placed It In the box, where there was
already a good sized rat. The cat, In
stead of tackling the rat, appeared to
make friends with It. They put their
noses together and frisked around, but
no harm was done, and eventually the j
cat Jumped out, refusing to tackle the j
rat.
The children then put In a keen dnch- |
ahund, which Immediately snapped at
the rat and missed It. The rat ran
around the box two or three times,
dodging cleverly, and eventually, by
climbing on the dog's back, adroitly
Jumped out of the box and escaped."
The rubber exported from the Ama
aon river In the season of 1903-’04
amounted to 67,314.116 pounds.
Best la the World.
Cream, Ark.. Nov. 7.—(Special.)—Af
ter eighteen months' suffering from
Epilepsy, Backache and Klduey Com
Slalnt, Mr. W. H. Smith of this plnce
i a well man again and those who
kave watched his return to health un
hesitatingly give all the credit to
Dodd’s Kidney Pills. In an Interview
regarding his cure, Mr. Smith says:
"1 bad been low for eighteen months
with my back and kidneys and also
Epilepsy. I had taken everything I
knew of and nothing seemed to do me
any good till a friend of mine got me
to send for Dodd’s Kidney Pills. I And
that they arc the greatest medicine In
the world, for now I am able to work
ind am In fact as stout and strong as
before I took sick.”
Dodd’s Kidney Pills cure the Kid- 1
neys. Cured Kidneys cleanse the blood
pf all Impurities. Pure blood means
good health
Dogfish.
Philadelphia Ledger: Some of thi
creatures of the deep can eat like an
tinregeneratc Digger Indian; they can
consume their own weight or twice
their own weight In twenty-four hours;
they pursue and kill as ruthlessly as
a German grand duke whose huntsmen
drive (he tame deer past their blinds to
be killed. Just as the large-eyed oxen
are smitten In the Chicago stock yards;
they kill from habit. In this class Is
1 the dogfish, or dogshark, of which much
complaint has been heard this summer
along the coast. The angler hates him
find would applaud any effort to "crush
the Infamous thing,” In the language
of Voltaire. There Is a strike and a
vigorous pull, and the fisherman says, .
"Ah ha, here Is sport!” But his Joy Is'
momentary; the game pulls strongly
Imd stubbornly, perhaps doggedly, but
t is a sticky pull, apparently the hold
ing back of an antmuted old bootleg,
and the pest comes to view, requiring
fiome sharp work with the knife and
the mussing of the boat, profanity and
loss of hope for the day s sport, for
■where the dogfish abounds the real fish
«ie likely to be lying low,
The dogfish breaks nets, sours .... |
anglers temper, discourages the com
mercial fisherman, and from Maine to I
Florida hlB name Is anathema. The
Canadian government has Just adopted
an Ingenious plan—the best yet dis
covered short of balling out the ocean—
Of depleting his numbers. T... bounty
Ifiystem has been discarded as likely to
be costly, difficult of administration, fu- |
tile. The minister of marine and fish
eries has decided to build three large
^eduction plans, and at these plants
agents of the government will pay a
good price to fishermen for all the dog
fish and fish offal which may be
brought In. The dogfish will be con
verted Into glue and fertilizer, and thus I
«.n Industry will be founded while some
thing is being done to save the fisher
ies, which for several seasons have
been menaced by the omnipresent dog- j
■*sh. _ _
TILL NOON.
the Simple Diah that Keeps Ona Vigor*
oua aud Wall Ked.
When the Doctor take* hla own
medicine aud the grocer eats die food
be recoumieuda some confidence cornea {
,to the observer.
A Grocer of Osslan, Ind., hau a prac- |
,tlcal experience with food worth any
one’s attention.
' He says: “Six years ago I became
go weak from stomach and bowel trou
ble that 1 was finally compelled to
five up all work In my store, and in
/act all sorts of work, for about four
years. The last year L was confined
.to the bed nearly all of the time, ami
'much of the time unable to retain food
Of any sort on my stomach. My bow
ols were budly coustlputed continual
ly and 1 lost in weight from 103 pounds
down to 88 pounds.
“When at the bottom of the ladde. I
ichanged treatment entirely and .tart
ed in on Grape-Nuts and cream *or
[nourishment. I used absolu.ely noth
,U>g but this for about three months, j
I slowly improved until I g t out oi
jbed and began to move about.
“I have been Improving ragulaily
and now in the past two yjars bate
been working about fifteen bo ire a
day in the store and never felt better
In my life.
“During these two years I have
never missed a breakfast of G.-t.pe
Nuts and cream, and often have it tw >
meals a day, but the entire breaktest
Is always made of Grape-Nuts an*'
cream alone.
“Since commencing the use *f Giape
Nuts 1 have never used anythin; to
stimulate the action of the bowels, a
thing 1 had to do for yeura. bat this
food keeps me regular and In fine
shape, and I am growing stronger and
heavier every day.
“My customers, naturally, havevbeen
Interested aud I am compelled to an
swer a great many questions about
Grape-Nuts.
“Some people would thin*' that a
simple dish of Grape-Nuts and cream
would not carry one through to the
noonday meal, but It will and In the
most vigorous faahlon.” ,
Name given by Poatum Oo., Battle
Creek, Mich.
% Jbook in each pkg. for the famous
little book, “The Road to WoiiTlUs."
|| IN THE SHADOW OF SHAME |
• - .-—— 1 —■ 1 —■■"■'■ - ■" 1
I Co^ridht 1501 bj Amtbo, of ”TK. DU of
f D«tin»." “An E«c«l
| T. f it..fi«ro.Id loot Inn." Etc.
— - ■ - ».A
Before her eighteenth birthday, she
had married hfm against the advice of
her mother, and In spite of the warning
of her friends, endowing him who was
dependent on his pay and steeped In
debt with the handsome fortune left
h> r by her father. Then came three
years of wedded life of varying happi
ness, at the end of which time the
ardor on fter part remained unabated,
while on his It had vanished quite.
His growing Indifference made her
woman-like, more anxious to retain his
affection, while her eagerness defeated
Its own ends by rendering him more
careless still. Satisfied now if she
might retain his friendship If not his
love, she exerted her wit, tact and fas
cination, straining her heart and
wounding It in the straining and all
In vain. And now she began to realize
how she had In the fulness of her girl
ish love. Idealized him; seeing him as
no other had; endowing him with at
tributes of heart and character he had
never possessed; for no longer did he
take pains to conceal the hardness,
selfishness and lack of honor, which a
brilliant surface manner had once
helped to hide.
Her disillusion once begun, was
quickly completed. Soon carne the
knowledge of his unfaithfulness, his
losses on the race course and at the
gaming table, as well as the perception
that his nature was gradually coarsen
ing by drink and dissipation. The day
was not long postponed when she
learned her whole fortune had been
squandered by him In ways that were
wrongs to her. And when, no longer
lble to preserve patience, she upbraid
ed him, he brutally struck her. By
this lime he had quitted the army, and
:llsappearlng, he left her and her child
iepending on friends, her mother being
low deud.
Then began her struggle for life, blt
;er and long maintained. She had al
ways possessed a certain talent tor
writing, a facility of expression, pic
uresqueness of description, power of
maglnatlon, and having before her ex
imples of those who had won indepen
len< e by the art of fiction seemingly
with ease and without effort, and being
ill unconscious of the numbers who
nearly perish In the hard struggle to
tain the shores of success, and are
herefore unheard of and unknown,
the resolved to embrace literature as
i calling. To pen short stories for
children, biographical sketches and
irtlcles on subjects of the dny, was to
>ne endowed with her gifts but the
east part of the difficulty before her.
ro dispose of them became an arduous
ask, for no one desired to read, much
ess to accept them.
Many a mile she walked from office
o office, which, with a fluttering heart
md overstrung nerves she entered to
iffer manuscripts over which she had
ipent much time, always hoping she
night find acceptance. Money was ter
tbly needed by her. The result was
iver the same. Each magazine or
ournal had Its own staff of contrib
itors; hundreds of stories were waiting
or consideration. The supply was
rreater than could be exhausted for
'ears. And such manuscripts as she
vas permitted to leave, or which she
lent by post, were, when not lost or
nlslaid, Invariably returned to her, un
it her spirit was well-nigh broken.
A turn came In the tide of her af
alrs when they seemed desperate. A
ale retained by a magazine for over
Welve months at last sow the light
if publication. Reviews spoke of Its
ruth to nature, pathos, and originality
if plotv A second story was accepted
•y the same magazine, and an editor
vho had returned her'storles and es
ivs unread, requested her to send him
ome articles. Those he had prevlous
y rejected were posted to him and
>ald for within a week.
Slowly and gradually her name be
;an to grow familiar to the public; with
•ppreclatlon came courage to persevere,
md putting forth all her strength, she
vrote a novel, largely embodying In
ts pages, her own life. This had been
>ubllshed by George Bostock. Its
luccess was Immediate, her name be
;ame famous, Independence was won.
And now while lifted out of the
norm and stress of life, and beginning
:o bask In the sunshine of hard-earned
luccess. her husband, after years of ab
lence, returned to claim the benefit of
jer changed fortunes; returned a worn
jut wreck, a hardened adventurer, a
jonflrmed rogue. For her own sake,
md for the sake of her child, she pro
tected herself against him, and suc
ceed In buying for a considerable sum,
his consent to a legal separation, which
she could otherwise have obtained had
she brought the Incidents of her life
Into court. And for five years she
heard of him no more, until at the
period the story opens, she received a
demand for money to which she paid
no heed, nor had she seen him mean
while until that terrible night—his
last on earth.
The ghastly horror of that scene
came back to her afresh with all Its
terrible possibilities for her future and
her heart sank, weighted by despair
within her. For a moment It seemed
she had no courage to meet the appal
ling accusation which would be brought
against her; no strength to assert her
Innocence until the memory of her
child came to her. Then from the
depths of her stricken soul, she prayed
for nld that she might meet this dark
misfortune; that her Innocence should
be made plain to the world.
When breakfast was brought, she
drank some coffee, but could not eat;
nor did she talk, her mind was now
busy with plans, surmises, possibili
ties, fears.
At last Veronica said:
“There Is some one waiting to seo
you."
“Who?” Olive Dumbarton said tear
fully.
"Mr. Bostock.”
A sense of Intense relief came to the
miserable woman at the soun' of that
name, and she suddenly realized that
she was not quite alone in P'e. Al
ways a faithful friend and a wise coun
sellor. he would help her.
“How kind of him. Has he been
long waiting?"
"About an hour. I did not like tc
toll you before. I don’t think you are
strong enough to see him, dearest.”
"I must, Veronica; he will advise
me.”
‘Then let him come to your dressing
room, the girl suggested.
“Very well, dear."
Only when she strove to rise, the ful
knowledge of her physical weaknesi
came to her, but this she overcami
with an effort, and presently enterec
the adjoining apartment, which wai
more of a boudoir than a dressing
room. The blinds were up; the mid
day sun streamed through the windows
and In the apple and peach trees stll
In leaf, the birds were singing blithely
the sky was cloudless. Ail things ap
peared to mock at the woe within her
It seemed as If nature, • which sh<
loved so well, had no sjrcjpathy will
her In this dark hour of triad.
"Pull down the blinds, dear; I can no
bear the sun," she said. Then, whei
Veronica had obey ad, her mother sud
denly started and listened. "That is
a man’s footsteps in the passage out
side; is it Mr. Bostock’s?"
“No,” the girl replied, turning her
head aside in some confusion.
"Dr. Quave’s?”
"No, dearest. Don’t heed it; what
does it matter?"
"Tell me who it is, Veronica. [ will
know—tell me.”
“Oh, darling, why do you ask me’
It’s a policqman.”
Olive Dumbarton grew white and
drew a long, deep breath.
"Sit down, mother, here In this easy
chair. How pale and haggard you
look,” the girl said, unable to restrain
her tears.
"I am all right now, Veronica. You
Can send for Mr. Bostock,” Mrs. Dum
barton replied, wiping away the per
spiration which had gathered on her
white face.
A moment later the door opened and
George Bostock entered. He went
quickly forward to where Mrs. Dum
barton sat and took her hand. She
looked Into his eyes and failed to see
their either Interrogation, shrinking or
blame; only a great pity, a deep ten
derness, and beyond these, a feeling
which even then touched and warmed
her desolate and 'desponding heart—a
feeling before scarce suspected, but
now realized beyond all possibility of
doubt.
"My dear friend, this Is terrible—
this is terrible!" he said in a grave,
troubled voice.
“I am innocent," she replied, lift
ing her eyes to his again.
“I know, I know,” he answered rapid
ly, his voice full of pain.
“You did not—you did not think me
guilty?"
“I? Not for a moment,” he replied
fervidly.
“Thank God!" she murmured. There
were two at least In the world who be
lieved her incapable of this crime; the
two whose faith and trust in her she
valued most.
In the pause that ensued, sounds of
a slow, measured step In the corridor
outside, once more fell ominously On
her ears.
“But the position in which you are
placed-” George Bostock said un
easily, his face expressing the anxiety
he felt.
"Annearances are all against me, I
suppose?"
"So far. But who knows? I came
here at once to consult with you—to
advise you. if I may?
"If you will,” she replied quietly,
pathetically. Intuitively she felt that
he had resolved to help her with all
his strength, let the effort cost him
what It might. “My cousin, Valerius
Galbraith, is on his way to Egypt,” she
suld after a moment’s consideration.
“He may be in Paris yet. Perhaps it
would be well to send for him.”
“He will read of the— the occurence
In the papers and be sure to return.
Meanwhile, you must have the best
legal advice you can get. If you ap
prove I will go and Bee Corla & Son
at once.”
"Do as you please,” she answered. I
feel sure you will act for the best.”
“There Is no time to’ lose,” he said,
rising; and then adding with some
hesitation, "you know the Inquest will
take place tomorrow, when you will
be expected to attend.”
She winced visibly at the thought
his words conveyed, but afjer a sec;- »
ond’s silence, said:
“You have not asked me how—how
it happened—last night.”
”1 didn’t wish to distress you,” he
replied, “seeing how weak you are to
day."
"I will tell you,” she murmured, turn
ing pale at the recollection of the pre
vious night’s tragedy.
“Not now; It pains you too much—
another time,” he suggested.
“It’s best you should know all as
soon as possible,” she responded, brac
ing herself to recount what had passed
between her and the man whose Ups
were silenced forever.
CHAPTER V.
Though anxious she should be spared
the pain of realizing and recounting
what had happened between her and
her husband during the last moments
of his life, George Bostock was eager
to hear Mrs. Dumbarton’s account of
the event. Not that he needed words
of hers to confirm his belief in her in
nocence—of that none was more cer
tain than he, but he was impatient >o
hear how it came to pass that she was
The Moody End.
Hlxon—There Is no end to the wasps
out here.
Dixon (Just stung)—There was an end
to the one that Just lit on me.
Good Thing.
8h«—If It was within your power to
: cause rain at win, what would you
1 do?
Be—Manufacture umbrellas.
found in a position and under the cir
cumstances that conveyd an idea of
guilt.
Veronica, likewise, longingly awaited
this narrative, which she felt certain
would prove a vindication of her
mother's innocence, for the girl, having
Implicit faith in the veracity of one
she so tenderly loved and honored,
concluded the world muBt needs hold
her guiltless once she asserted her
blamelessness and explained her posi
tion.
"When you left last night,” Mrs.
Dumbarton said, turning toward the
publisher, who sat at a little distance,
his grave, anxious face expressing in
terest and sympathy. "I took up the
book which had arrived by the late
post and began to read. Feeling hot
and feverish, I kept the lower window
open. All within was perfectly silent;
no sound came from without, and the
peace seemed restful to my senses.”
"Poor mother,” Veronica said, striv
ing to keep back her tears.
"The book Interested me and I felt
no inclination to sleep.” Mrs. Dumbar
ton continued, and then paused while a
slight shudder passed through her
frame, as if Some distressing sight pre
sented itself to her vision.
"How long did you continue to read?”
George Bostock asked.
"Probably for a couple of hours after
you left. I know I was suddenly startled
by hearing the garden gate flung vior’
lently back and sounds of footsteps
rushing toward the house, but before
I could realize what had happened, a
figure darted through the open window
and stood within the room—a man’s
figure, whose actions were frantic, as
if he were stricken with madness, or
made desperate from pain. At this
sight I screamed then, paralyzed from
terror, I remained speechless and mo
tionless.
Bewildered and frightened, I had
not yet recognized him, but as I fixed
my eyes upon his terrified face, I saw
that the man before me was my hus
band. Scarcely had I understood this
when he came staggering toward me
for help and mercy on his lips. All
for help an dmercy on his lips. All
life seemed frozen within me, and in
the seconds that passed I seemed to
live through ages of agony. As he
did not move I drew nearer to him.
fascinated, fearful, expectant, until,
overcoming my terror and the sense of
repulsion that filled me, I stood beside
him, when for the first time I saw—I
saw a knife had been thrust into his
breast.
‘‘As yet there was no sign of blood,
no forewarning of death; my sense of
dread was undefined. The sight of his
white, haggard and distorted face, ap
pealed to me through, all, and I had but
one thought, to save him from danger,
when, acting on impulse, I stretched
out my hand and drew the knife from
his breast. As I did, blood gushed from
the wound upon my hand§, upon my
dress, and he moaned as if stricken
anew. Unable to grasp what had hap
pened I bent over him, to see his eyes
grow glassy and his face become livid.
Then I know he was dead."
Neither of her hearers interrupted
her. Veronica had wound one arm
round her mother’s waist by way of
tendering support, and now, as she
ceased, the girl fondly kissed her.
“Of what happened afterward I was
but dimly conscious,” Olive Dumbarton
continued. “As one sees a figure in a
dream I saw my maid rush into the
room and as suddenly disappear, then
came Veronica, and finally the servant
returned with a policeman. At sight
of him a fresh sense of horror and
heavy foreboding of ill fell upon my
senses, and I remember no more."
“Mother, dearest,” Veronica said
soothingly.
George Bostock made no immediate
attempt to speak, but remained leaning
back in his chair, a thoughtful troubled
look upon his face, for her story had
►taken him from such hope as he had
entertained on her behalf, and filled
him with dark forebodings. Though
the fitful sunshine of this September
day no longer streamed into the room,
the blinds remained drawn, and now.
In the dim light and breathless silence,
the boudoir had something In Its op
pressive atmosphere that savored of
a death chamber.
"Did you see no one else—no second
figure pursuing him?” George Bostock
ask ed.
•»
"And he mentioned no name—spoke
no word that would lead you to know
or suspect why he had been mur
dered?"
"The only words he spoke were those
In which he asked for help and mercy."
“You are sure nothing has escaped
your memory ?"
“Nothing. You think my case seems
hopeless?” she said, reading his
thoughts.
Before his answere came the sounds
In the corridor outside, which had for
some time ceased, now began again.
On hearing them, Olive Dumbarton
drew a quick, sharp breath, and a look
of terror came Into her eyes.
“I have no doubt,” George Bostock
said, with the object of cheering her,
“that the truth regarding this unhappy
affair will come out—that Is. that the
truth of your Innocence will be prove^.”
"God grant that It may be.” she cried,
"but I cannot fall to see that my dan
ger Is great.”
"You are not guilty,” he answered
deeply moved by her words and the
pain with which they were uttered.
"Surely that can be proved.”
"Only by discovering who Is,” she
replied promptly.
He rose hastily and turned away that
his thoughts might not be guessed from
the expression of his face.
"Do you tiling It Is Impossible?*’ she
asked surprised by his movements.
“No, no,” he said hurriedly, and then
added after a moment's puuse, “I feel
sure—quite sure, your blamelessness
will be proved sooner or later. And
now I will go and see Corls & Son. If.
they take up the case you may rely on
It they will see you safely out of your
trouble.”
'How can X thank you?” she said.
“Don't—don't speak of that." he re
plied, his voice full of emotion, as he
bent above the hand she gave him.
When he had quitted the room, the
sense of fear, depression and loneliness
she had felt since morning deepened.
"Mother—mother!" Veronica whis
pered. appalled at seeing her sit with
out word o' motion as she stared Into
space.
Olive Dumbarton started from her
, reverie.
“For your sake, dearest, I will be
strong,” she replied as she raised her
eyes to the girl’s fear stricken face.
(Continued Next Week.)
Repartee.
Life: "Age befbre beauty." said Fal
staff, as he attempted to enter before
the prince.
“No! Grace before meat.” said the
prince, gently, as he pushed him from
his path.
The sailors of the steamship Chelten
ham. which was seized by the Russian
Vladivoslock squadron, July 2, In Jap
anese waters, got 250 each and the
coats In a suit against the owners. It
took them three weeks by rail to go
from Vladivostock to St. Petersburg.
They neurly starved and they suffered
other hardships. The damages were
granted because they had not been told
on shipping that the vessel was to
carry contraband.
An eminent surgeon has declared that
he owes it to his patients to quiet his
nerves by playing a game of golf before
undertaking an Important operation.
LONDON SOLVES THE
DOMESTIC PROBLEM
Three Thousand Men Are Nov*
Employed in That City
as Maidservants.
ARE BETTER THAN GIRLS
Testimony From Titled Ladies Provei
That Tl4y Are a Success—Work
Harder Than Girls and Re
quire Few Evenings Off.
London Mall: The London domestic
problem Is being solved—by men. The
ever-growing scarcity of handmaids,
due mainly to the multiplication of tea
rooms and cheap restaurants, where
the greater freedom and Increased
matrimonial facilities attract girls. Is
bringing over to this country large
numbers of men from Switzerland,
Germany, France and Italy, who do ex
actly the same kind of housework as
girts for the same money. They are,
in short, male "domestics."
The season for engaging the conti
nental man "maidservant” has Just set
in. 1 will be at its height in about
a fortnight’s time. All the little res
taurants in the popular resorts on the
continent will be then reducing their
staff of waiters, cleaners and assistant
cooks. Formerly these people sought
similar empldyment for the winter In
the larger towns of their own countries,
but work was not always obtainable.
Then a batch of the unemployed heard
from the British and foreign domestic
bureau, 35 Harst street, Bloomsbury,
that there was a great dearth of fe
male servants in England, and that
possibly they might All some of the
vacancies. ,
The suggestion was acted upon.
Within the past twelve months this
establishment has “placed” 400 foreign
men as domestic servants In the homes
of well-to-do English people. Other
agencies are also "booking” male "gen
erals’” parlor maids and housemaids,
and an authority estimated that
there are now In I.ondon alone 3,000
men who dally wield the broom and
duster for a livelihood.
In some of the large houses, three
male "domestics” are kept— a parlor
maid, a house maid and a cook. They
discharge all the duties appertaining
to their several positions just as girls
were wont to do. The house maid—
the word might be changed to "house- ,
man"—makes the beds, sweeps the bed j
rooms, cleans the windows and dusts
the furniture. The "parlorman’s” par
ticular province is the dining room. Ho
keeps that apartment clean and tidy,
polishes the plate, and at meal times
waits at the table. In the Intervals he
opens the door to callers.
"I have abundant testimony from
titled ladles and others that the male
domestics are a great success,” said the
principal of the domestic bureau.
"They work harder than girls, they do
not require so many ‘evenings off,’
they rise earlier, they look neater, and,
of course, do not have ‘followers.’ The
only stipulation they make is that they
shall have half an hour’s rest In the
afternoon for a smoke.”
The male domestic, It further ap
pears, receives as a rule 5 shillings a
week and his laundry, while his most
serviceable • age Is between nineteen
and twenty-three. In the mornning
the "parlorman” and "houseman” don
aprons, which they subsequently re
move to assume dress clothes. "The
men servants are more amenable than
female,” added the above quoted au
thority. "They do not object to under
take a little washing, and they do It
remarkably well. The reason of their
handiness is that most. If not all of
them, have served In the army.
-—-1
The Crar and His Money.
Philadelphia Saturday Evening Post; J
The fact that the czar has Just made
a little contribution from his private
purse to the Russian war fund reminds
us that Mr. Rockefeller Is not the only
rich mar. In the world. There are a
few others, and there Is hardly a doubt
that the Russian monarch overtops the
standard oil emperor, not only as the
first of autocrats, but as the first of
plutocrats.
Most royalties are very small pota- I
toes financially compared with any one
of several American millionaires. Mr.
Rockefeller could put all the sover
eigns of Europe, except the czar, on his
payroll at their present wages without
depriving himself of a single bowl of i
crackers and milk or ever lacking a !
quarter to drop into .the contribution j
box on Sunday. He could pay the sal
ary of King Edward or of the kaiser
for a year out of a month’s Income, and
have something left for carfare.
But the Russian emperor is In a dif
ferent class. In the Imperial budget the
allowance for his household Is figured
at the meager rate of about $8,000,000
a year, but that Is merely the begin
ning of his resources. He owns a
great part of Russia as his private
property—mines, forests and Illimitable
stretches of arable lands. In European
Russia alone the strictly private do
mains of the Imperial family are as
large as Indiana. The state owns
twenty times as much more, and the
czar is the state. In Siberia the im
perial resources are still more opulent.
Most of the rich mines of gold, plat
inum and precious stones are worked
for the benefit of the ezar and his fam
ily.
But beyond all this, the emperor is
the absolute master of the national
treasury and all its varied sources of
Income. In England the king talks In
i his speeches of "my army.” iny navy”
! and "my exchequer," but all this Is
understood to be a legal fiction. Ev
erything Is regulated by parliament,
and the king cannot touch a penny that
Is not appropriated to his use. But In
Russia the czar can Bpeak of “my
army” and 'Iny navy” In literal fact.
He could disband the whole outfit If
he chose, and pocket the money saved
by the operation. His civil list Is sim
ply the amount that he sees fit to dip
out of the treasury. He could double
or triple It without asking anybody’s
permission. The whole treasury Is his,
and all the taxing power of the empire
to the limit of his subjects to pay. Is It
not clear that the diffident young Nich
olas Is tho richest man In the world?
Shocking.
Chicago News: Daughter—“Don’t
Invite my rural uncle In the reception
room any more.”
Mother—"Did he make any' bad
breaks before the company, dear?”
Daughter—"I should say so. When
I showed him a Louis XI" chair ho
asked if Louis was a good chair
, maker.” _ _
A Lemberg doctor who experimented
on a hospital porter with Roentgen ray*
, has had to pay £600 for the per
manent Injury he caused.
MAN IN MOOSE
JACK RUMSEY’S SECRET TOR
SECURING SLEEP.
A Missouri Pacific Railroad Conductor
Tells How He Prevents the
Wreck of His Nerves.
A great deal of fatigue and anxiety is
housed up in the little red box that
swings at the tail end of every freight
train and shares in every jolt of ths
string of heavy cars that precedes it on
the rails. The men in it are good, hearty
fellows who bear cheerfully the hazards
connected with ths great problem of
transportation. They are astir night
and day on a vast network of lines and
the sympathies of tens of thousands of
peaceful little homes go with them ou
their runs. The great public must have
its supplies and these are the men who
must get them through at the cost even
of their lives.
Mr. Jack Rumsey, of Council Grove,
Kansas, is an energetic, frank, good
natured member of this brotherhood and
he bears a load of worries that makes it
necessary for him to seek help to keep
his excited nerves from wearing him oat.
He says:
“ What troubled me most was my in
ability to get sleep when the chance cams
and a most irritating sensitiveness of my
whole nervous system, growing out of
the irregularities and anxieties con
nected with my daily work. Three or four
years agoaclerk in the superintendent’s
office of the Missouri Pacific, at Osawa
tomie, advised me to use Dr. Williams'
■ Pink Pills for Pale People. I acted on
his advice and got help right away. So I
keep them on hand all the time and
whenever the strain begins to tell on
me I take a few doses. They quiet
down my excited nerves and make it
possible for me to sleep just like a child.
They are mighty good medicine for a
railroad man. That is the absolute trnth,
as far as my experience goes, and I am
right glad to recommend them.”
Dr. Williams’Pink Pills for Pale People
are unlike other medicines because they
act directly on the blood and nerves.
They are a positive cure for all diseases
arising from impoverished blood or
shattered nerves. They are sold by all
dealers, or will be sent postpaid on re
ceipt of price, fifty cents a box, or si*
boxes for two dollars and fifty cents, by
addressing Dr. Williams Medicine Com
pany, Schenectady, N. Y.
THE LATEST IN SHOES.
Result of Years of Experience in Shoe
Designing and Perfected Methods
bf Manufacture.
“Honorbilt” and “Western Lady*' are
the names of two new shoes which are 1
conceded to reach the height of perfec
tion in shoe making.
The successful originator of these two
lines of perfect shoes is the F. Mayer
Boot and Shoe Co. of Milwaukee, WI*.
This name will be sufficient to assure
most of our readers of the^quality of these
goods. A great many are already familiar
with the high standing and good wearing
features of Mayer shoes, while thousand*
have been impressed by the straight for
ward, persistent advertising done by thi*
firm in all the principal publication*
throughout the country.
Mayer shoes have a high standing
among shoe dealers and are recommended
by them as giving the greatest satisfac
tion of any shoes in the market. The new
shoes will surpass in style, fit and dura
bility anything the Mayer Boot and Sho*
Co has ever placed on the market. '
announcing these new lines it is hoped
that every reader will take careful note or
the advertisements of “Honorbilt” and u
“Western Lady” shoes ana when next in
need of shoes, make a request upon the
dealer for one of these new brands.
The “Honorbilt" for men is that sub
stantial, nobby and fashionable kind that
every man who Is at all desirous of being
well dressed will search for. Made in a
variety of designs, for exclusive business
or dress wear, or as appropriate for all
uses, It has features that appeal to every
man.
The “Western Lady” for women will
quickly become recognized as the most
proper shoe for ladies as it embodies all
that appeals to a woman when she seek*
the Ideal shoe for her use. The beautiful
design and graceful lines delight the fas
tidious taste of the fair sex. Made from
the softest, select upper leathers and th*
most flexible and durable sole leathers*
they are endowed with wearing and com
fort qualities that afford a world of satis
faction.
If your dealer does not happen to have
the “Honorbilt” or “Western Lady” shoe*
to show you write to the F. Mayer Boot
and Shoe Co., Milwaukee, Wis., and they
will Inform you where to get them.#
Of Course.
Daisy—We decided it would be help
ful for U3 to tell each other her faults.
Maisy—How did the plan work outf
Daisy—We haven't spoken for nearly
a year.
I-^
A Roaster.
Micky—Say, me goil Lla *« a hot rag
all right.
. Jimmy—She must be, judgin’ from d«
j way she was roastin' you yesterday.