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About The frontier. (O'Neill City, Holt County, Neb.) 1880-1965 | View Entire Issue (Jan. 23, 1908)
•’—»——— --I THE MARATHON MYSTERY A STORY OF MANHATTAN.__ BY BURTON E. STEVENSON Author of “The Hoilsday Case,” “Cadets of Gascony,” Eto. - -4 She was standing by a window, looking out across the waters of ihe bay. and she did not turn for an in stant—not. Indeed, until Godfrey had closed the door carefully behind him. I have seen few women more regal, more magnificent, yet there was about her—In her face, in tlie droop of Iter figure—such on air of utter misery, of exquisite suffering, that, after the first moment, one forgot to admire her In the desire to be of service. "You wished to see me?" site asked. In a low voice. "Yes, Miss Croydon," replied Godfrey, more gently perhaps titan he had in tended to speak. "This is Mr. I.ester,” i he added, "who has been engaged to i defend Mr. Drysdaie.” She acknowledged the introduction with the faintest of bows. "I hope Mr. I .ester will be successful. ” she said, in the coldest of tones. One would have thought her a mere chance acquaintance of my client. I saw Godfrey looking at her with searching eyes, and his face hardened. I "Wo mean to be successful,” lie said rurtly. "You may as well ask us to sit down, Miss Croydon, because our business here will take some time and I am sure It will tire you to stand.” She raised her eyebrows with a lit tle gesture of astonished disdain. "Itenlly,” she began; then her eyes met his, burning with meaning. ”Oh, very well,” she said faintly, and sank Into the chair nearest her. I felt my cheeks flush with indigna tion at Godfrey’s manner; surely this woman had enough to bear already! I opened my lips to protest, but he silenced me with a glance. "Now, Miss Croydon,” he continued, tn the same coldly Imperative tone, ”1 Intend to speak to you bluntly and directly. We have beaten about the bush too long alread". I see that you are not Inclined to deal frankly with u»—you have not been frank with us from the first—you have sought to blind us, t® throw us off the track. Therefore I shall tell you what we al ready know, in order that you may reaJizo how useless It is for you to try to hold us off. We’re going to see that the guilty man Is punished, not for this crime alone, but also for that other »no at the Marathon, of which you were the only witness. You shall not be permitted to keep him from justice a day longer." She raised her head and looked at him, her face white as marble and as tmmoble; but she did not speak. She grew livid and more livid as he con tinued, wntching him with starting eyes, and at one moment I thought she would collapse; but I did not know her strength of will. «Tn 4V... _14 _L_y~s frey evenly, never removing his eyes from hers, "we know that this man Tremaine Inveigled your sister Into a •chool-girl elopement and marriage; she was rescued from him; she thought him dead; she married Delroy; came to New York; Tremaine followed her and attempted (he extortion of blackmail; you met him at the Marathon; while you were talking Thompson Interfered And Tremaine killed him, escaping be fore the officers arrived. You did not «now Thompson, but you saw Slm monds and me take out his poeketbook; you heard me read a line or two from one of a packet of clippings we found (here, and while we were In the bed room, you took those clippings from the body and hid them under the edge of •the carpet" She breathed a long sigh and sat •red again. , "Ah," she said with a little smile, ■"I was beginning to fear you, nil that seemed so supernatural. But now I see where your Information came from.” "It Is correct, then?” asked Godfrey, a gleam of triumph flashing across his face. She glanced at him In surprise. *‘Oh, I understand; It was merely theorizing. Well, It was very cleverly done. Mr. Godfrey.” "And It Is correct?” he persisted. She hesitated yet a moment, but there was no denying the Importunity of his gaze. "Yes," she answered; "yes." Godfrey leaned back In his chair with a long sigh of relief. He had won the battle. “Miss Croydon,” he said, "I’m going to rewaid you for your frankness by telling you something which I had In tended to keep secret a while longer, Just to punish you. Your sister never was th« wife of Tremaine and has nothing whatever to fear from him; he has no hold on her at all. She has never been anybody's wife but Mr. Del roy's." %» «*» eiiiMUB III iiiiu WIUI wiueiy opened eyes, her hands clasped above her heart. "Oh, if It were really so!" she cried. 'Tf It were really so!" "It Is so," repeated Godfrey, and took a little yellow envelope from his pocket. “Read this," and he unfolded a sheet of paper and held It toward her. She took It with trembling hand and read the message written upon It; but seemingly without understanding It. "It’s a cable," he explained, "from the Record's correspondent at Dieppe. Your pardon, Lester," he added with a fleet ing smile; "I forgot to show It to you on the trip out. Please read it aloud. Miss Croydon.” •* ‘The widow of Victor Charente,1 ” «hs read In a low voice, " ‘died here February 21, 1901. Had never married again.' " She looked up. her brows still knitted. “Well?" she asked. “Well,” said Godfrey. "Victor Char ente Is the real name of Tremaine. He married that girl many years before he met your sister. She was his egal wife. Your sister never was. She was never the legal wife of anyone except Richard Delroy." She understood now, and the glad tears burst forth unrestralnable. In deed she made no effort to restrain them, but only rocked back and forth pressing the message against her heart "Thank God!" she sobbed. "Thank God!" and then she started up from her chair. "I must tell her," she said, "at once. If you knew how she has suf fered! She must not be left In that cruel position an Instant longer.” “Very well." agreed Godfrey. “We will wait for you here.” She disappeared through a door at the farther' end of the room, but in a moment came softly back again. “She Is asleep,” she said. “I will wait until she wakes. What a joyful awak ing it will be!” and she sat down again. She wiped away the tears, but her eyes were still shining. Godfrey gazed at her with a. face full of emotion. “Now, Miss Croydon,” he began, “you’ve toldf/Sne that my theory's cor rect, but there are-three or four points I should like 'you to help me clear up, If you will." ’ "I shallT* glad to If I can,” she an swered, and smiled at him, her eyes brimming again. “You’ve lifted such a load from me, Mr. Godfrey, that I'd do almost unythlng to show iny grati I lude.” 1 Why, looking at her, did his face change—soften, ha-den? Why did his hands tremble so? It was over in an instant; yet I hail caught a glimpse of Ills secret. I understood . . . “It was nothing,” he said; “I was glad to do It—I was deeply pleased when that message came this morn ing." "You’ve been kinder to me than I de served.” she said; and I more than half agreed with her. How, with his eyes before her, could she fall to under stand? Perhaps she did understand—I was never sure. “In the first place, then, Miss Croy don," he went on, In a dlfTerent tone, "how did your father succeed In getting your sister away from Tremaine?" “They had gone to Paris," she an swered, "and In two or three days Edith had awakened from her dream— she saw something in the man which terrified her, and she wrote a pitiful let ter to father, who went over to Paris at once, and Anally succeeded In buy ing the man off. Father paid him 60,000 francs, I believe—perhaps it was the fact that he knew he was not really Edith’s husband—that he himself had committed a crime—whleh made him take It. He agreed to leave the country, and In the following December he wrote father that he was about to sail for Martinique in a ship called the Cen taur. He Bald he Intended to buy a plantation in Martinique and make that his home. In February, we learned that the Centaur had been lost, with all on board. After eight years, 11 seemed certain that lie was dead, and Edith felt free to marry again.” “Was Mr. Delrov Informed of this early indiscretion?” “Certainly—and forgave It. as any good man would.” “Pardon me for asking the question, Miss Croydon; but It was necessary. When was It you Arst learned that Tre maine was still alive?” T,l'°netnlKht nParlY two months ago, Edith brought Ills letter to me She was wild, distracted, ready to kill her self that is what I have feared every day since. She loves Mr. Delroy, Mr. Godfrey; and yet she believed herself the wife of another man. He demand ed that she meet him In that apartment house. I know she could not bear such a meeting, and yet he must be seen. I offered to go In her stead; I had some wild Idea of appealing to his better na ture. of persuading him-” She stopped, silenced by her own emotion. xi.cxi, ui tuurac, wuuia not nave ai tered the fact that your sister was his wife," observed Godfrey, “No; that was the terrible part of It; nothing could alter that. There must, of course, be a separation; but we thought we would solve that problem after we had settled the other. So I went. He opened the door to me. I had never seen him, and I confess his appearance and manner were not at all what I expected. He did not look In the least like a scoundrel, nor did he act like one. He listened to me with attention and seeming respect. He even xpeared moved. Oh. I know now what x hypocrite he was; I know that lie was laughing at me; that he was plan ting something deeper, more villainous. 1 had brought *1,200 with me—all that wo could gather together at the mo ment—and I pressed it upon him. urg ing him to take it and go away and we would send him more. He pretend 9<1 to refuse the money, to protest that it was not In the least what he wanted, but 1 compelled him to take It. And lust as I was hoping that I prevailed with him, the door of the bedroom opened and a horrible drunken man staggered out. " ‘Well, Vic,' he cried, 'so this Is th’ gal. Is It? She’s a likely piece. I wouldn't give her up. Vic. no. not fer ten thousand-' " ‘Go back to bed, you drunken brute!' cried Tremaine, and he took him roughly by the artni "Hut the other shook him off. " ‘Don't lay your hands on me, Vic!' he cried. 'Don’t dare lay your hands on me!’ "I saw the very devil spring into Tre maine’s face. He looked about him for some weapon, and picked up a piece of pipe that lay beside the radiator. Thompson saw the action and lurched heavily toward him. *• mat UII me, VIC. nH asked. ‘You'd better try It,' and he made a pass at Tremaine and tiled to snatch the pipe away. 'You try it on an’ I'll blow your game like I did once before down at Sydney.' "He struck at Tremaine again, but the latter sprang away and In an in stant had brought the pipe down upon his head. Thompson fell like a log; then that fiendish look Hashed Into Tremaine's face a second time; he snatched out a revolver—1 dimly un derstood what was coming—Indeed, I had my own revolver in my hand— and I tired at him, but my shot went wild, wlille his-” She stopped and bulled her face In her hands, overcome for the moment by the terrible spectacle her words had evoked. She controlled herself bv an effort; took down her hands • * • “He put his pistol away and stepped over very close to me. '■ 'Miss Croydon,' he said rapidly, ‘It will be well for you to say you did not know me. I have committed no crime—he was the aggressor—what I did was done In self defence. One thing more—your sister has nothing to fear from me—I shall never bother her again—I promise you that.' "He was gone In an Instant and then the Janitor came and you and the detectives." Godfrey nodded thoughtfully. "That supplies the motive. Lester," he said "I have felt that my explan ation of the trims was not quite ade quate. But it was not only desire for revenge that urged Tremaine on—It was also the knowledge that Thompson knew of his first marriage and threat ened, with a word, to wreck his plans a second time.” "Yes," I agreed, and sat silent, pon dering the story. “Why did you take the clippings. Miss CroydonV” asked Godfrey after a moment. "From what you read of them. I sus pected how vitally they concerned my sister. That was a secret, I felt, which must be kept at any hazard. It was done without consideration, on the spur of the moment, or I should never have had the courage to do It at all." "And why did you hide them under the carpet?" She laughed outright—'he load was lifted—she was fast becoming her usual self. "I bad a wild Idea that you were | going to search me. 1 saw that loose place In th» carpet the Instant I aroso with the clippings In my hand. Once I had put them there. I had no chance at all to get them again." Godfrey nodded. "You tried to get them the day after the Inquest, didn’t you?" "Yes; but the janitor was so afraid of me that he wouldn't even let ine go upstairs.” “And there weren't any papers?” "No: that was a lie. I aaw I must invent one—that I must offer some ex planation of my presence there.” "Did Tremaine keep his promise?” "Not to bother my sister? Yes; he mentioned it again only to assure me that the past was dead—that he would never revive it.” "Rut how could you admit his pres ence here?” "How could we prevent it? It was Mr. Delroy who brought him. We weren’t strong enough to tell him the whole storyr" "You mean you told him part of it?" “There has been a virtual separation ever since Mr. Tremaine appeared.” Godfrey paused reflectively. “Wliy were you so agitated," ho con tinued finally, “when you were asked to Identify Jimmy the dude, at the Inquest?” "Because I did Identify him.” “You did?" "Yes—as the man I had seen talk ing to the janitor in the lower hall. Bet mo explain, Mr. Godfrey. When I was asked suddenly for a description of tl\e murderer, I was taken aback; I endeavored to think, to collect my self—and I remembered the man I had passed In the hull. Without stopping to consider—wishing only to disarm suspicion—I described him roughly as I remembered him. When I was con fronted with him at the inquest next day, I Instantly realized what I had done—I had Implicated an innocent man—and It turned mo a little faint for a moment.” “Had you ever met him?" "Met him?" she repeated In sur prise. "Why. no." “But he seemed to know you." "Oh!" and she laughed again. "I had a letter from him next day—a let ter filled with gratitude—touching even. It seems that my sister and I had helped his family—a mother and sis ter—without knowing it, while he was away-” "At Sing Sing—he's the most expert burglar in New York, but lie's got his good points, too—witness his taking Thompson home that night.” "Yes—he wanted to do anything he could to help mo. I Intend to look up Jimmy.” ■‘Do—If you can reform him, the New York police force will he mighty grate ful." "I'm going to try," she said, and I rather envied Jimmy. Godfrey leaned back In his chair with a sigh of satisfaction. "I think that clears up that affair pretty well.” he said; “and that brings us to the second and more serious one. And first, Miss Croydon, I want to ask you if you think it was Just the right thing to let them march Jack Drysdale off to prison when a single word from you might have saved him?” CHAPTER II. A GATHERING OF THREADS. "From me?” repeated Miss Croydon blankly. "A single word from me? I do not understand you, Mr. Godfrey." “Do you mean to say," demanded Sodfrey with emphasis, “that you do not know where Mr. Drysdale was Monday night; that you were not your self the cause of his leaving the bouse?” She was staring at him with distend sd eyes. "I ths cause!" site repeated hoarsely, ifter a moment. "Mr. Godfrey, I will ‘ell you sometiilng. of which I had de termined never to speak. When he left the house that evening, he deliberately broke an appointment be had made with me—an appointment which he tad prayed for. He had happened to tear Mr. Tremaine make certain pro posals to me—in short"—she hesitated, ind then preceded steadily, with raised bead—“I may as well tell the whole truth. Since the evening of the first tragedy, Mr. Trerraine has been perse fUting me with his attentions. At the time, I thought them merely insulting— t see now that he may have been in sarnest.” “I don't in the least doubt that he was in earnest," agreed Godfrey. "Mr. Drysdale, then, overheard him ask you to be his wife?” ‘"Yes—just that.” "But he also heard you refuse no doubt?" “Oh, yes,” she said, smiling and col oring a little; “he heard me refuse in the most positive way; but my refusal provoked Mr. Tremaine to an intem perance of language which Mr. Drys clale resented and which he thought I should have resented, too. He demand ed that I explain to him Mr. Tremaine's position, and I promised to do so on the very evening he—he stayed away from the house. His staying away offended me deeply." (Continued Next Week.) Reflections of a Bachelor, From the New York Press. The human race Is moderately sane ex cept when it is engaged. Nearly everybody Is your warm friend till he has a chance to prove it. Millionaires seem to prove that a hard way to get rich Is to work for It. A man has to do a lot of drinking so as to make himself think lie Is a good fellow. The man who bought a lot of suitable clothes for his vacation didn't expect to have much fun. Some people aren’t going to have a very good ttrae In heaven unless they can have thrtr breakfast In bed. A woman gets very little fun out of writing a letter If she has anything really Interesting to put In it. You can't make a woman see that there is no use of Uncle Sam having bargain sales In postage stamps. Women object to winter because they have to wear clothes then Instead of be ing undressed In shirtwaists. Sorry, but He Couldn’t Oblige Her. An American actor, who Is old enough not to consider himself a matinee idol by any means, was somewhat surprised and pleased In a western hotel a short time ago when a pretty girl stopped him In the corridor and presented him with a rose without saying a word. He was more surprised and less pleased to receive a note the following day reminding him of the Incident and asking him to send the giver of the (lower two seats at the theater in which he was playing "as a memento of the occasion." "My dear young lady. ” the actor re plied, waxing sarcastic as he realized what had been the object of the atten tion he had been paid, "I should be glad to send you the seats you ask for. but, on consultation with the manager of the theater, 1 have been informed that the seats are all fasten d down, and that he Is opposed to having them sent away as souvenirs." Tampering With Truth. A school teacher trying to explain to his class the meaning of the word "con ceited," said: “Suppose I would go arnun-l saving, I-ook how good 1 am to my , lass,' or bragging about how much I know', or how good looking 1 am—-what waul 1 you siy 1 was'.'" "A liar," Instantly ponded the class. i Jit-vci uiu licuevc in (jiiunis, inwic i Jerry, but they say you’ve seen them l many a time in the White House, and nobody doubts your word.” “Oh, yes, senator. Sperrits has al ways lived here!” Uncle Jerry has been a favorite and trusted member of the White House family for more than 30 years. His fine, tail figure, dark shining face and merry eyes are as familiar as the old portico pillars of the executive man sion. Charles Sumner called him "Our Lord Chesterfield," in honor of his distin guished and courtly ways. The chil dren flock around him, and he Is loved and respected by all who meet him. Ghosts are his specialty. Sperrits” are sacred and the jokes played on him by "unbelievers" are serious things. He sees a meaning and "warning" in everything. The Washington monu ment was dedicated February 33, 1SS5. It was a day of great excitement and interest. From the south windows of the White House the waving of banners LUI Lilt: LI UIIKS. t L .VilS .11 L c I ticllll, LL1U1 but few times had Jerry climbed the narrow stairway to the attic at night. Colonel Dinsmore shouted: "Come, Jerry, time for the madame’s trunks!" "But, eunnel, you couldn’t think of sending Jerry alone up there! Up in that old region, of darkness!” ‘‘Co on, Jerry, don’t be a baby!” laughed the colonel. “I tell you, Gunnel. I—Is—not—goin’ alone—not for all the madames in this world!” Colonel Dinsmore could never tell this story without roars of laughter. He said: “So 1 went along with the big lantern, walking ahead to the big pile of trunks and bags in one corner. By the light of my lantern Jerry grasped with his long arms and hands a great trunk; when just opposite him, slowly rose two fierce red eyes. They gleamed in the darkness and turned from side to side, glaring full upon Jerry. Before I could speak Jerry gave one leap into the air. Down came the trunk as Jerry stumbled and fell into ^ •-' _J m. JtRKf. W W W /U± /towwywep p.nd flags by the crowd could be plainly seen from the big east room, where many visitors looked at the dedication ceremonies. Salutes were fired and the roar of cannon shook the very glass of the windows. Mr. Dinsmore, then chief usher, stood in the doorway with guests, when "Bang! Bang!” went the cannon, and Uncle Jerry came running tl. rough the corridor. “Cunnel! for the Lawd'a sake, come yere!" (Uncle Jerry has very little dialect.) •‘What is the matter?” ‘"Step yere. cunnel! Ole Master Von j Buereen has come down smash! Just : step outen his gold frame! just for I spite. Don’ tell me, cunnel, sperrets | don't get about lively in this oie house!" Mr. Dinsmore said to the guests: “You see Uncle Jerry labors to convert me to his belief In all manner of ghcsts.” “You'll all get converted this yere day. It am not the lust time dead an' gone presidents, has kerrled on about this fuss an’ foolin’ over George Washington's birthday.” A gentleman asked: “And how is that, Uncle Jerry?” “Sir, they kerries on awful! Gets mad. an' when the cannons roars, they fergets to be gentleman, sir! They leans up and down an' gets too raged an’ disgusted to hang on the lcerrider wall, an', sir, jes’ falls down flat on their faces. Come an' see old Martin Von Bureen now!” Uncle Jerry’s handsome black eyes rolled and glared with excitement. In tlie corridor lay President Martin Van Buren flat on his face, the gor geous frame a wreck. Quietly he had hung on the wall many years and now the thundering of cannon or the break ing of an old cord had stirred ills “sperrlt" with rage and Jealousy. The next morning a crowd of boys visited lilt' line nuujit;. I "Uncle Jerry, did you see him fall, truly?” "Sonny, 1 did. I got Jes' as far off ns I could. T don't meddle with sper rlts on this side the liver.” “How did he look, Uncle Jerry?” 'T didn't stop to look long, but his face got dark red, an' flushed, an' he lay flat in shame an’ disgust, an' all that evenin' I heard a mutterin' an' grumblin’. The cook didn't close her eyes that night, not a soul slop' a wink, an' the sperrlts of them departed presi dents kerried on disputin' an' discuss In' about this yere great fuss over George Wasnlngton'. Now, Sonny, he were a great man. but President Hlneoln an' General Grant heat him all to pieces!” A huge bearskin coat was sent Presi dent Hayes from Dakota with sleeves made of Bruin's legs, the cuffs of his feet and claws. One evening just before dusk Uncle Jerry was strolling up and down In the lower rooms, after putting to rights the cabinet rooms and corridors, chat ting ami telling his merry stories among the servants when, as he stood head and shoulders above them all, suddenly a huge black bear fell on his neck. The claws fastened themselves Into his back! As suddenly the bear dis appeared. Jerry's shrieks rang through I the White House. He fell Into the pan try, pallid and speechless. Mrs. Hayes ! ran down into the kitchen. There silt ! jerry shaking with a chill among ser j vants as frightened as himself. With her hand on his shoulder, she said kindly: "Now, Jerry, you know that was a joke of William’s, don't al low yourself to be so superstitious, let | me convince you this lime." 1 She pushed open a door and with a , grave look in her beautiful eyes, said: I ! "William (Crump, the steward), I a.n sorry you give Jerry these frights. Don't repeat these Jokes. Try and cure him. rather, of seeing ghosts and spir its." One springtime new glass globes for the elaborate gau burners had come and were caiefuily put away In the big old nLtic--while the fixtures were cleaned. Some of the president's family were ■ going away, and Uncle Jerry was sent :be glass shades, all lr a heap. Crash! •vent the glass. Jerry shrieked: “Oh, the dehil! The evil eye! The debil naself!” And that was the last I saw <f Uncle Jerry that day. Beautiful Mrs. Hayes was again the ■estorer of peace; but 1 don’t think she ever quite knew who carried the bull’s ;ye lantern to the attic when Ur.ele lerrv went after her trunks. Nellie Grant was a rosy little maid when site first went to the White House, and Jerry was footman, and Al bert Hawkins the coachman. They ivere devotedly fond of the Grants, and cur "little Miss Nellie" was their ideal mistress. ’’Grandpa Dent has lots of treasures jp in the garret. Let’s go up and play,” Nellie said to her little guests one day: Get the lantern quick, Jerry! We'r* join' to play dress-up and party.” “Oh, Miss Nellie! Don’t Kerry them lttle mlssesses up there! You cliU’em is not able to stand all the kerrions-on jp there! I must keep you front fear— in ebll.’” But the persistency of the president's lttle daughter took them' up the nar row stairway. “Oh, Jerry, what a dark place!” “Come down, little ilisy, I—beg—o' —you!” “Jerry, what’s that funny noise?” “Chile! come down ! It’s the sperrtts f told yon of.” Piles of old papers rustled: an old chair rocked itself. The sound of lit tle feet putt crest across the floor. Lit tle cries and squeaks came from be hind Grandpa Dent’s boxes, and the children huddled dose to Uncle Jerry and whispered: "Take us down, quick!" Pell mell! Jerry, lantern and little Miss Nellie’s party went tumbling down the stairs, perfectly satisfied with Jer ry’s wondrous stories of “ghosts and sperrlts.” Jerry said: “Land. I’se glad to get 3own with them precious little mUsesses safe an’ alive!” The rats and mice roam no longer In the old garret. A Gentle Hint. “I got a neat rebuke for my curiosity once," saifl a well known Baltimore man, ‘‘and it was administered to me by a native of the Cheat river region in West Virginia. “I had stopped over night in the dis trict in question, and in the morning was strolling about the place, asking ail sorts of questions. Presently I met a lanky mountaineer, who greeted me with ‘Howdy’ and passed the time of day most pleasantly. Seeing that he was barefooted, a circumstance, it seemed to me. quite odd in a mountain ous region, I asked: “Is it tlie custom of this country for the men to go without shoes?-’ “ 'Waal,' the native drawled, ‘some on us do, but most on us atten's to our own business.’ ” The Worst Load. From the Christian World. The worst load a man can carry is that of habits begotten of evil pas sions—that growing pile of sensuous deeds, which, in their accumulation, cohere finally into mass, devil pos sessed, which sits between his shoul ders, overweighlr.g all elsa In kind, and driving him ruthlessly, fatefully on the road downward. From the Washington Star. “Was unit picture you just sold a genuine work of art?" ''No,” anstvivtl I he dealer, "but ihe story I told about it was." The Missionaries' Literature assoc iation of England, no. In its fourteenth year, has sent over 41*0.000 periodicals to the foreign field in that time. The average lengtn of life of a tradesman is two-thirds that of a farm er. Michigan lias -pent $42,241,111.79 for Its schools lit CS yc-t.rs. Philadelphia Record. You never hear a married man boast that he never made a mistake In his lite. Carrying coals to Newcastle Is a good bit like giving nerve tonic to a book agent. A man doesn't have to take his wife out in an automobile to get a good blow ing up. Because love is olind is no reason why a lover should make a spectacle ot him self. The more children a woman has ths less time she has to attend mothers' meeting. Another Mark Twain Story. From January Harper s. On the way across the Atlantic last summer. Murk Twain \va3 asked his opinion of prohibition, by a woman pas senger. The reply was characteristic ally humorous, though somewhat evasive. He said: "I am a friend of temperance, and want it to succeed, but I don’t think prohibition is practical. I am sorry to learn that they have just invented a method of making brandy out of saw dust. Now what chance will prohibi tion have when a man can take a rip saw and go out and get drunk with a fence rail? What is the good of pro hibition if a man is able to make brandy smashes out of the shingles on his roof, or if he can get delirium tre mens by drinking the legs off the kitch en chairs?” ~ _ « Ink for rubber stamps is made of aniline dye mixed with glycerine. The dyes can be obtained at druggists’ shops. FOR SALK or exchange, horses, cat tle. wagons, harnesses, buggies, hay. city property and farm lands. Will sell any of the above property on weekly or monthly payments. J. Mulhall, Sioux City, la. A pencil is often hard pushed to tell the truth._ PILES CURED IN O TO 14 DAYS. PAZO OINTMENT la guaranteed to cure any case of Itching. Blind. Bleeding or Protrud ing Piles In tt to 14 days or money refunded. 00c. A Joke on Vanderbilt. From the Philadelphia Bulletin. “An amusing, but nasty trick was played in the early autumn at George W. Vanderbilt’s Biltmore estate near Asheville.” said a Pittsburg florist. "A friend of mine, one of the Biltmore gardeners, wrote and told me about It the other day. ' "It seems that at the entrance to Biltmore, there was a sign that read: 'Please do not pick the flowers with out leave.’ '■Well, one visitors’ day some joker added an ‘s’ to the sign's last word. As a result, every visitor left Blltmoro that day with a delightful smile and an enormous boquet.” How to Do It. From the Washington Star. F. Augustus Heinze, In the course of a dinner on board his yacht Revolu tion, said of a certain mooted mining reform: “Oh, yes, it would be a gpod thing if it could be done, but there is no possible way to do it. Ask these reformers how they are going to put their ideas In op eration. and they give you answers that are about as practical as the little boy’s method of catching a mule. “There was once, you know, a mule In a large field that refused to bo caught by its owner. Round and round the field the mule galloped. The own er tore along behind, red and angry, swinging a halter in his hand and swearing passionately. The mule would let him draw near, almost near enough to throw the halter over his head; then it would kick up its legs merrily and run away like the wind. A boy, his face wreather in smiles, watched the unequal chase for an hour or 30. Then he entered the field and said; “ Tit tell you how to catch that mule, mister, if you give me a nickel.’ “ ’Alt right,’ panted the man; ‘here’s your nickel. Now tell me.’ “ 'Get behind that thick, hedge over there.’ said the boy, ‘and make a noise like a carrot.’ ” _ BANISHED. Offfe Finally Hud to Go. The way some persons cling to coffee even after they know it is doing them harm, is a puzzler. But it is an easy matter to give it up for good, when Postum Food Coffee is properly made and used instead. A girl writes: “Mother had been suffering with nervous headaches for seven weary years, but kept drinking coffee. “One day I asked her why she did not give up coffee, as a cousin of mine had done who had taken to Postum. But Mother was such a slave to coffee she thought it would be terrible to give it up. "Finally, one day, she made the change to Postum, and quickly her headaches disappeared. One morning while she was driuking Postum so free ly and with such relish, 1 asked for a taste. “That started me on Postum and I now drink it more freely than I did coffee, which never comes into our house now. “A girl friend of mine, one day, saw me drinking Postum and asked If It was coffee. I told her it was Postum and gave her some to take home, but forgot to tell her how to make.it “The next day she said she did not see how 1 could drink Postum. I found she had made It like ordinary coffee. So 1 told her how to make it right and gave her a cupful I made, after boil ing it fifteen minutes. She said she never drank any coffee that tasted as good, and now coffee is banished from l«>th our homes." Name given by Postum Co., Battle Crock, Michigan. Read the little book. "The Road to WeUviile,’’ in pkgs. "There's a Rea son."