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About The frontier. (O'Neill City, Holt County, Neb.) 1880-1965 | View Entire Issue (Sept. 24, 1908)
' >-■■ - ■~ ..-- - * - ■‘' __THE_„ Story of Francis Cludde A Romance of Queen Mary's Reign. BY STANLEY J. WEYMAN. CHAPTER XXIII—Continued. | "Then I shall be hanged.” replied the steward sullenly. "There never w'as a Cludde hanged yet without one to keep him company. To hear of it would make my grandsire turn in his grave out there. I dare not do it, Sir An thony. and that is the fact. But for the rest I will do as you bid me." And he had his way. But never had evening fallen more strangely and sad ly at Coton before. The rain pattered drearily In the court yard. The draw bridge, by Baldwin's order, had been pulled up, and the planks over the moat In the rear removed. "They shall not steal upon us again!” he muttered. “And If we must sur render they shall see we dO It will ingly." The tenants had gone to their homes and their wives. Only the servants re mained. They clustered, solemn and Sorrowful, about the hearth In the great hall, starting If a dog howled without or a coal flew from the fire within. Sir Anthony remained brooding In his own room, Petronllla sitting beside him silent and fearful, while Ferdinand and his wife moved restlessly about listen ing to the wind. But the evening and the night wore peacefully away, and so, to the surprise of everybody, did the next day and the next. Could the sheriff be going to overlook the matter? Alas! on the third day the doubt was resolved. Two or three boys, who had been sent out as scouts, came In with news that there was a strong watch set on the Ridgeway, that the paths through the forest were guarded, that bodies of armed men were arriving In the neighboring vil lages, and that soldiers had been de manded—or so It was said—from War wick and Worcester, and even from a ?ilace as far away as Oxford. Probably t was only the sheriff's prudence which had postponed the crisis, and inow it had come. The net was drawn all round. As the day closed in on Coton and the sun set angrily among the forest trees the boys' tale, which grew no doubt in the telling, passed from one to another, and men swore And looked out of window, and women wept in corners. In the tower room 8ir Anthony sat awaiting the summons and wondered what he could do to save his daughter from possible rudeness, or even hurt, at the hands of these strangers. 1 There (vas one man missing from hall and kitchen, but few in the sus pense noticed his absence. The fool had heard the boys’ story and, unable to remain Inactive under such excite ment, he presently stole oft in the dusk to the rear of the house. Here ho managed to cross the moat by means ,of a plank, which he then drew over and hid in the grass. This quietly managed—Baldwin, be it said, had strictly forbidden any one to leave the house—Martin made off with a grim chuckle toward the forest, and fol lowing the main track leading toward Wootton Wawen presently came among the trees upon a couple of sen tinels. They heard him, saw him dls .tlnctly and made a rush for him, but this wa5 just the sport Martin liked <anrt the fun lie had come for. His ■■quick ear apprised him of the danger, •and in a second he was lost in the un derwood, his mocking laugh and shrill taunts keeping the poor men on the ■shudder for the next ten minutes. Then “the uncanny accents died away, and satisfied with his sport and the knowl edge he had gained the fool made for home. As he sped quickly across the last field, however, he was astonished by the slglit of a dark figure in the .very act of launching his (Martin's) plank across the moat. "Ho, ho!" the fool muttered in a fierce undertone. "That is it, is it? 'And only one! If they will come one iby one, like the plums in the kitchen porridge, I shall make a fine meal!” j He stood back, crouching down on the grass, and watched the unknown, his eyes glittering. The stranger was a tall, big fellow, a formidable antag onist. But Martin cared nothing for that. Had he not his long knife, as keen as his wits— when they were at home, which was not always. He drew It out now, and under cover of the darkness crept nearer and nearer, his blood glowing pleasantly, though the night was cold. How lucky it was he had come out! He could hardly re strain the “Ho, ho!" which rose to his lips. He meant to leap upon the man on this side of the water, that there j might be no telltale traces on the! farther bank. But the stranger was too quick for him In this. He got his bridge fixed and began to cross before Martin could crawl near enough. As he crossed, however, his feet made a sltght noise on the plank, and under cover of it the fool rose and ran forward, then followed him over with the stealthi ness of a cat. And, like a cat, too, the moment the stranger’s feet touched the bank Martin sprang on him with his knife raised—sprang on him si lently, with his teeth grinning and hl» eyes aflame. CHAPTER XXIV. A moment later the servants In the hall heard a scream of such horror and fear that they scarcely recognized a human voice In the sound. They sprang to their feet scared and trembl ing. and for a few seconds looked Into one another's faces. Then, as curiosity got the upper hand, the boldest took the lead and all hurried pellmell to the door, Issuing in a mob Into the court yard, where Ferdinand Oiudde, who happened to bo near and had also heard the cry, joined them. "Where was It, Baldwin?" he exclaimed. "At the back, I think," the stewart answered. Ho alone had had the cool ness to bring out a lantern, and he now led the way toward the rear of the house. Sure enough, close to the edge of the moat, they found Martin, stooping with his hands on Ids knees, a great wound, half bruise, half cut, upon his forehead. "What Is it?” Fer dinand cried sharply. "Who did It, man?" Baldwin had already thrown his light on the fool's face aud Martin, seeming to become conscious of their presence, looked at them, but In a dazed fashion. "What?" he muttered, "what is what?" By this time nearly every one In the house had hurried to the spot, among them not only Petronllla, cling ing to her father’s arm, but Mistress Anne, her face pale and gloomy, and half a dozen womenfolk who clutched one another tightly and screamed at regular Intervals. "What ta It?" Baldwin repeated roughly, laying his hand on Martin's arm and slightly shaking him "Come, who struck yoc. man?"” "I think," the fool answered slowly, gulping down something and turning a dull eye on the group, “a—a swallow Hew by and hit me." jSyj' • They shrank away from him In stinctively, ami some crossed them selves. "He Is In one of his mad fits,” Baldwin muttered. Still the stewart showed no fear. "A swallow, man?" he cried aloud. “Come, talk sense. There are no swallows flying at this time of year, and If there were they do not fly by night nor give men wounds like that. What was It? Out with It, now! Do you not see, man” lie added, giving Martin an Impatient shake, "that Sir Anthony Is waiting.” The fool nodded stupidly. “A swal low," he murmured. “Aye, 'twas a swallow, a great big swallow. 1—1 nearly put tny foot on him.” “And he flew up and hit you In the face?” Baldwin said, with huge con tempt in his tone. Martin accepted the suggestion plac idly. "Aye, 'twas so. A great big swal low, and he flew In my face,” he re peated. Sir Anthony looked at him rom passkmately. "Poor fellow,” he said. "Baldwin, see to him. He has had one of his fits and hurt himself.” "I never knew him to hurt himself," Baldwin muttered darkly. "Let somebody see to him," the knight said, disregarding the interrup tion. “And now come, Petronllla. Why where haB the girl gone?” Not fur. Only round to the other side of him, that she might be a little nearer to Martin. The curiosity In the other women's faces was a Binall thing In comparison with the startled, ear nest look In hers. She gazed at the man with eyes not of affright, but of eager, avid questioning, while through her parted lips her breath came In gasps. He. cheek %vns red and white by turns, and for her heart—well, It had seemed to stand still a moment and now was beating like the heart of some poor captured bird held in the hand. She did not seem to hear her father, speak to her, and he had to touch her sleeve. I hen she started as thoujjh she were awakening from a dream and followed him sadly Into the house. Sadly, and yet there wns a light in her eyes which had not been there five minutes before. A swallow? A great big1 swallow ? And this was December, when the swallows were at the bottom of the horse ponds. She only knew of one swallow whose return was possible Ih Winter. J3ut then that one swallow— aye. though the snow should lie Inches <Jef*jp In the chase and the water should ireeze In her room—would make a sum rner for her. Could It be that one? Could It be? Petronllla's heart was beating so loudly as she went up stairs after her father that she wondered he did not hear It. The group left round Martin gradu ally melted away. Baldwin was the only man who could deal with him In his mad fits, and the other servants, with a shudder and a backward glance, gladly left him to the steward. Mis tress Anne had gone in some time. Only Ferdinand Cludde remained, and he stood a little apart and seemed more deeply engaged In listening for any sound which might betoken the sher iff’s approach than In hearkening to their conversation. Listen as he might he would have gained little from the latter, for It was made up entirely of scolding on one side and stupid reit eration on the other. Yet Ferdinand, ever suspicious and on his guard, must have felt some Interest In It, for he presently called the steward to him. "Is be more fool or knave?" he muttered, pointing under hand at Martin, who stood In the gloom a few paces away. Baldwin shrugged his shoulders, but remained silent. "What happened? What is the meaning of it all?" Ferdi nand persisted, his keen eyes on the steward's face. "Did he do it him self, or who did It?” Baldwin turned slowly and nodded toward the moat. "I expect you will find him who did It there,” he said grimly. "I never knew a man suve Sir Anthony or Master Francis hit Martin yet but he paid for It, and when his temper is up he Is mad, or as good as mad, and better than two sane men!” "He Is a dangerous fellow," Ferdi nand said thoughtfully, shivering a lit tle. It was unlike him to shiver and shake, but the bravest have their moods. uangerous? " the steward answered. "Aye, he Is to some and sometimes." Ferdinand Cludde looked sharply at the speaker, as if he suspected him of a covert sneer. But Baldwin’s gloomy face betrayed no glint of Intelligence or amusement, and the knight’s brother, reassured and yet uneasy, turned on his heel and went into the house, meeting at the door a servant who came to tell him that Sir Anthony was calling for him. Baldwin Moor, left alone, stood a moment thinking and then turned to speak to Martin. But Martin was gone and was nowhere to be seen. The lights in the hall windows twinkled cheerily, and the great fire cast Its glow way acrcrs the courtyard, as lights and fire had twinkled aud glowtsl at Coton End on many a night before. But neither in hall nor chamber was there any answering merriment. Baldwin, com ing In, cursed the servants who were in his way, and the men moved meekly and without retort, taking his iatha for ivhat Jfcry were—a man’s tears. JJie h'o.v.en fullf sat listening, pale and frightened, and one or two of the ; grooms, those who had done least in , the skirmish, had visions of a tree and a rope and looked sickly. The rest I scowled and blinked at the fire or i kicked up a dog if it barked In its I sleep. "Hasn’t Martin come in?” Baldwin growled presently, setting his heavy wet boot on a glowing log. which hissed and sputtered under it. "Where is he?” •Don't know!” one of the men took on himself to answer. "He did not come In here." "I wonder what he Is up to now?” Baldwin exclaimed, with gloomy irri tation, for which, under the circum . stances, he had ample excuse. He knew that resistance was utterly hope ! less and could only make matters worse and twist the rope more tightly about hla neck, to put the thought as he framed it. The suspicion, there fore, that this madman—for such In ; his worst fits the fool became—might i be hanging round the place in dark 1 corners, doing what deadly mischief 1 he could to the attacking party, was not a pleasant one. A gray haired man in the warmest nook by the lire seemed to read his thoughts. "There Is one in the house,” he said slowly and oracularly, his eyes on Baldwin’s boot, "whom he has Just i as good a mind to hurt, has our Mar i tin. as any of them Clopton men. Aye, ; that has he. Master Baldwin." "And who Is that. gaffer?" Baldwin ! ask^d con'emptuously. But the old fellow turned shy. “Well, It Is nor Sir Anthony," he answered, nodding his head and stooping forward to caress his toasting shins. "Be you very sure of that. Nor the young mis tress. nor the young master as was. nor the new lady that came a month ago No, nor It la not you Master Baldwin.” "Then who la It?” cried the steward Impatiently. _ "He Is shrewd, la Martin—when the saint* have not got their backs to him,” said the old fellow slyly. "Who Is It?” thundered the steward, well used to this rustic method of evasion. "Answer, you dolt!” But no answer came, and Baldwin never got one, for at this moment a man w ho had been watching in front of the house ran In. "They are here!” he cried. “A good hundred of them, and torches enough for St. Anthony’s eve. Get you to the gate, porter, Sir Anthony Is calling for you. Do you hear?" There was a great uprising, a great clattering of feet and barking of dogs and some walling among the women. As the messenger finished speaking a harsh challenge which penetrated even the court yard arose from many voices without and was followed by the wind ing of a horn. This sufficed. All hur ried with one accord Into the court, where the porter looked to Baldwin for Instructions. j "Hold a minute!” cried the steward, silencing the loudest hound by a sound kick and disregarding Sir Anthony’s voice, which came from the direction of the gateway. “Let us see If they are at the back too.” He ran through the passage, and emerging on the edge of the moat was at once saluted by a dozen voices warning him back. There were a score of dark figures standing In the j little close where the fight had taken place. ’■Right,’’ said Baldwin to him self. “Needs must when the old gen tleman drives! Only I thought X would make sure." He ran back at once, nearly knock ing down Martin, who, with a com panion, was making, but at a slower pace, for the front of the house. “Well, old comrade,” cried the steward, smiting the fool on the back as he passed, “you are here, are you? I never thought that you and I would be In at our own deaths!” He did not notice, In the wild humor which had seized him, who Martin’s companion was, though probably at an other time It would have struck him that there was no one In the house quite so tall. He sped on with scarcely a glance, and In a moment was under the gateway, where Sir Anthony was soundly rating everybody, and partic ularly the porter, who, with his key in the door, found, or affected to find, 1 i he task of turning It a difficult one. As the steward came up, however, the big doors at some sign from him creaked on their hinges, and the knight, nls staff In his hand and the servants clustering behind him with the lanterns, I walked forward a pace or two to the end of the bridge, bearing himBelf with some dignity. '.'Who disturbs us at this hour?’’ he cried, peering across the moat and signing to Baldwin to hold up his large lantern, since the others uncertain of their reception, had put out their torches. By Its light he and those be hind hint could make out a group of half a dozen figures a score of yards away, while In support of these there appeared a bowshot oft and still In the • men ground a clump of, It might be, a hundred men. Beyond all lay the dark line of trees, above which the moon, new risen, was sailing through a watery wrack of clouds. "Who are ye?" the knight repeated. ’’Are you Sir Anthony Cludde?” came the answer. ’’I am.” "Then In the queen’s name, Sir An thony,” the leader of the troop cried solemnly, "I call on you to surrender. I hold a warrant for your arrest, and also for the arrest of James Carey, a priest, and Baldwin Moor, who, I am told, Is your steward, I am backed by forces which It will be vain to re sist.” “Are you Sir Philip Clopton?" the knight asked, tor at that distance and in that light it was Impossible to be sure. “I am," the sheriff answered earnest ly, "and as a friend I be" you. Sir An thony, to avoid useless bloodshed and further cause for offense. Sir Thomas Greville, the governor of Warwick castle, and Colonel Bridgewater are with me. I Implore you, rny friend, to surrender, and I will do what good of fices I may.” The knight, as we know, had made up his mind, and yet for a second he hesi tated. There were stern, grim faces round him, changed by the stress of the moment Into the semblance of dark Baldwin’s—the faces of men, who, though they numbered but a dozen, were his men, bound to him by every tie of Instinct and breeding and cus tom. and he had been a soldier and knew the fierce Joy of a desperate struggle against odds. Might It not be better, after all? But then he remembered his women- ! kind, and, after all, why endanger these i faithful men? He raised his voice and cried clearly: "I accept your good of fices, Sir Philip, and I take your advice. I will have the drawbridge lowered, only I beg you will keep your men well In hand Rnd do my poor house as lit tle damage as may be." (Continued Next Week.) For Those Who Fail. "AH honor to him who shall win fhs prize." The world haz cried for a thousand years. But to him who tries, and who falls and dies, I give great honor and glory and tears. Give glory and honor and pitiful tears To all who fall In their deeds sublime. Their ghosts are many In the van of years. They were born with time In advance of time. Oh. great Is the hero who wins a na*ie. But greater many and many a time, | Some pale-faced fellow who dies In shame, i And lets God finish the thought sub lime. And great Is the man with a sword un- 1 drawn. And good la the man who refrains from wine. But the man who falls and yet still fights on, Bo! he Is the twin-born brother of mine. —Joaquin Miller. Fame in Certain Quarters. From Success. Edwin Marltham was one of the guests of honor at a reception given by ! a wealthy New York woman. During a conversation she said: "My dear Mr. Markham, I’ve wanted for years to meet you and tell you how I just love that adorable picture of yours—the one with the man hoeing, you know—and he Is taking off his cap. and that poor wife of his—-at least I suppose It's his wife—bowing her head, and they both look so tired, poor things. I have a copy of It in my own den. and the children have another In their playroom, and It's—It's—simply exquisite.” " The Angelus,’ I presume you mean'.’" replied the poet, gravely, • Yes," doubtfully, "but we always call It "The Hoe Man.” "I am glad you like It, madam," said Mr. Markham, and he took an early opportunity of escaping from his sin cere but mistaken admirer. In selecting sows to keep for breeding purposes don't pick the shortest block ! lest ones. A brood sow should be rather Ilong and roomy. It's the litter of big pigs that devel ops Into quick pork. j ^ ^ FOR FEMININE EYES ^ vg j ...—.. ..--—i GOWN OF PONGEE OR LINEN. A very simple but effective model Is here Illustrated. The original gown was of white linen, but rajah or pongee would make up with excellent effect after the same design. Eyelet w'ork, Insertion and embroidery were used as trimming, the bodice and skirt being joined at the waist by rows of Insertion, so that the gown was all in one piece. If pongee or rajah Is used for the gown, heavy lace dyed to match could be selected for the trimming. ♦ SOME SUGGESTIONS ♦ ♦ FOR THE SICK ROOM ♦ ♦ ♦ Indiana Cough Cure. To 5 cents worth of whole flaxseed add three pints of water. Boil 15 or 20 minutes, strain, and add Juice of three lemons, one-half pound of rock candy, and one ounce glycerine. Take wine glass of this three or four times a day and before retiring. It will cure the worst cough In two flays. A Handy “Necessity Box.1' Have a box in a convenient place, and keep these things In it: 10 cents worth of Iodoform, 10 cents worth of adhesive plaster, 10 cents worth of car bolic acid, some sterilized gauze and surgeon's cotton. Cooling the Sick Room. In the cool of the morning cut small branches from a tree, preferably maple. Fasten over screens at open windows and sprinkle with cold water with a whisk broom, repeating often during the day. The air, coming through the wet leaves, becomes cooled. This Is a tine thing when there are no trees near the house. Light for Sick Room. In the country and small towns, where gas and electric lights are not to be found, hang a lantern from a hook screwed Into the bottom of an upper sash on the outside. The light In the room may be regulated by raising or lowering the shade. This obviates the heat and odor produced by a kerosene lamp In a room. Speedy Relief for Corns. Chew good, fresh gum until flavor Is gone. While warm from the mouth bind on corn. This removes the Inflamma tion and causes the corn to peel off gradually, giving relief. Good for Cuts. For a slight cut there is nothing bet ter to control the hemorrhage than common unglazed paper such as Is used by grocers and market men. Bind a piece on the cut. Camphor Cures Colds. Take gum camphor and dissolve In kerosene, having enough so there is al ways a little camphor undtssoved in the bottom of the bottle. Rub the lame 'parts thoroughly and often with this and you will have relief. Do not band age it on as It will blister if used that ;way. This Is also an excellent remedy for cold In the throat or lungs. Rub It In well. THE CARE OF IRON3. The woman who la going away for a short time In the summer, or who Is not having the laundry done In the house, should be careful that her flat irons are not allowed to rust. When she needs them she may not realize how rusty they are until she finds out that they do not keep enough heat In them to do but a few sec ond’s work. They will be practically useless for a quick day’s work unless the entire surface Is again carefully worked up to a smooth polish. The damp weather of the end of the summer Is quite ant to rust any metal that is left unprotected. Irons should be well wrapped iu newspaper and then put away In a dry spot. TO KEEP JELLY FROM BURNJNG When the Jelly is put Into the kettle to boll, drop into the kettle a small agate marble such as the children use to play with. This marble will keep In constant motion In the bottom of the kettle while the jelly Is cooking. Thus It need not be stirred or looked after until finished. _ Conundrums. Why Is a spendthrift’s purse like a thunder cloud? Because It Is continually lightening (lightning). When Is a hat like a heart full of sor row ? When It Is felt. If a man should give 15 cents to one son and ten cents to another, what time would It be? A quarter to two. Why don’t they collect fares from the policemen on the tram cars? Because you can’t take a nickel from a copper. When are prisoners like gas? When escaping. I When are houses like hooks? When they have stories in them. When Is a step like a great burden? When heavy. When are streets and shoes alike? i When cobbled. 4- VARIED LIST OF 4 4 GOOD RECIPES 4 4 4 New Style Club Sandwich. Use three slices of bread, thinly cut In any desirable shape, and buttered. Place a lettuce leaf on lower slice and on its top put slices of chicken breast, then put another slice of bread and a lettuce leaf, followed by thin slices of veal loaf or peanut butter. Another slice of bread with thinly sliced pickles on top. Delicious Shirred Eggs. Take baking dish pan, put in Just enough milk to cover bottom well, break In as many eggs as you may wish, salt and peper to taste, add a little butter, and set in oven and bake. You will And this much nicer than to poach your eggs. Spaghetti Stew. An excellent dish made from the left overs of roast beef is a spaghetti stew. Cut the meat in thin slices or small cubes, as preferred. Cover with two cups of stock or thinned gravy; add one-half cup of tomatoes, a chopped onion, and, when boiling, a cup of spa ghetti, broken in one inch pieces. Sea son and let simmer for two hours. A little thickening may be added Just be fore serving. Apple Sauce Recipe. To make splendid apple sauce, wash thoroughly and quarter apples. Cook with little water until soft; strain through colander; add sugar to taste and boil few minutes longer. This does away with paring of apples, dis coloring the hands, something that every housewife objects to. Dumplings for Soup. Put spider on and let get hot, then take one cup of flour, one cup of milk, and three-quarters of a cup of butter; put in spider and turn back and forth until dough gets like putty. Take off and cool, then stir in two eggs and some grated nutmeg to flavor. A Good Cheese Omelet. Take one cup of sweet milk, six heap ing teaspoons grated cheese, three ta blespoons bread crumbs, three table spoons melted butter, two eggs beaten separately, one-third teaspoon of salt, and a pinch of cayenne pepper. Put bread crumbs in milk and let come to a boil, add butler, salt, pepper, cheese and yolks, lastly whites, beat en stiff. Bake 15 to 20 minutes in earthen dish. Apple preserve*. Peel and core apples whole; make a sirup of two cups of sugar and one cup o‘ water. When boiling put apples In. When tender grate a nutmeg over them and remove. Then boll the sirup thick and pour over the apples. Putting Up Pickles. Wash and wipe pickles; place In two gallon Jar. To one gallon cold vinegar add one and one-half cups granulated sugar, one-half cup salt, and one cup ground mustard. Mix mustard to paste with a little cold vinegar; then stir all together and pour over pickles cold. Place plate over them wltn small weight on Just enough to keep pick.es under vinegar. In three days they are ready for use. and will keep 10 months or longer. For four gallon jar double the recipe. When Cooking Dumplings. When cooking dumplings with meat or chicken boil slowly aim tiiey will never fall or get heavy. Half Graham Bread. Set bread at night wit i compiessed yeast, using same proportions as for white bread, only instead of all white flour use half graham. This does not stick nor become heavy and is much | more healthful for children than all white bread. Put right in pans next morning, let raise, and bake in moder ate oven one hour. Unanswered Prayer. 'Twas long ago, . When I was young. Alas! 1 did not know | A better way. 1 said, “It must be so, i Or God can not be good." I Alas! alas! my poor, weak human pride; How differently would I have quickly cried If I had understood. And now I bear A thankful heart for that unanswered prayer, And so I think it will be when, up there ' Where all is known, We look upon the things we longed for so. And see how little were they worth and know How soon they were outgrown. —Unidentified. j Oysters live In water which contain* , about one part Balt to 27 of water. ' r:_ ~rm " ~ Not Even a Curtain. From the Washington Star. At the Players' club in New York a prompter said of the late Peter Dailey: | “He had the sunniest, cheeriest dis position. Once 1 toured with him. The accommodations were sometimes rath er rough, and on such occasions the true gold in the man showed forth. “In a little southern town the dressing rooms were awful. Everybody swore and raged, but Dailey restored them to good humor. Said he: “ 'Why. this Is nothing to what I have been up against at times. I played once In a theater where at the end of every act the stage manager had to come forward and say: “ 'I must ask the ladles and gent lemen in the audience to be good enough to turn around. The players aro about to change their costumes.’ ” TO LiVE TO OLD AGE, BE A WRITER Paris.—According to a writer in thn Parisian daily paper, Figaro, the writ er's profession is one which leads to longevity. The writers of novels, sto ries, verses and plays, says the author, usually live longer than those who practice other professions. The paper gives as an instance thn fact that the Society des Gens des Let ters has among its members men who are so old that their names have been forgotten already by the reading pub lic in spite of the fact that they wern famous writers In their younger days. Among these members are Francois Fcrtinnult, who is over 95 years of age. Felix Bordac, another member, wan born in 1820. Jules Bheynat was born In 1821, as was his friend. Ernest Re dourler. There are four members who were born in 1S2L Many members were born in 1830. , From these the Parisian paper con cludes that writers live long and it ad vises all throse who desire to have a long life to become writers. la a Pinch, Use Allen’* Foot-Baa*. A powder to ahake into your shoes. It rants the fe«t, Cures Corns, Bunions, Swollen, Sore, Hot, Callous, Aching, Sweating feat and Ingr»w!ng Nall*. Allan's Foot-B»ao makes new or tight shoes easy. Sold by all Druggists and Shos Stores. 25c. Sample mailed FREE. Address Alien S. Olmsted, I.« Roe. NY Mater Dolorosa. Because of one dear infant head With golden hair. To me all little heads A halo wear; And for one saintly face All babes are fair. Because of two wide, earnest eyes Of heavenly blue, Which look, with yearning gaze. My sad soul, through, All eyes now fill mine own with team Whate'er their hue. Because of little death-marked lips Which once did call My name in plaintive tones. No voices fall Upon my ear in vain appeal From children small. Two little, hands held in my own Long, long ago. Now cause me as I wander thro’ This world of woe To clasp each baby hand stretched out In fear of foe. The lowest cannot plead in vain— I loved him so. __ —C. C. Hahn. The chief “pageant" in England this summer is to be given at Winchester, which for its size is perhaps the most his toric city in the country. It is described as a “national" pageant, and its aim will be to show through the history of the town that of the nation, in the sense of its gradual welding into one people under one faith. It will begin with Alfred, and Raleigh is to figure prominently in it as “the first apostle of true imperialism." On the opening day sermons will be preached in the cathedral by the bishops of Massa chusetts and Niagara. CASTOR IA For Infants and Children. The Kind You Have Always Bought Bears the Signature of 9*T ■■ /■*" fM'jsmme* TOILET ANTISEPTIC Keeps the breath, teeth, mouth and body antiseptically clean and free irom un healthy germ-life and disagreeable odors, which watery soap and tooth preparation* •lone cannot do. A germicidal, disin fecting and deodor izing toilet requisite of exceptional ex cellence and econ omy. Invaluable for inflamed eyes, throat and nasal and uterine catarrh. At drug and toilet stores, 50 cents, or by mail postpaid. Large Trial Sampls WITH "HCMkTH AND BEAUTY” BOOK BENT 1MtC« THE PAXTON TOILET CO., Boston, Miss.