¥He Crime of” “'SF-I
K tKc Boulevard |
CHAPTER VI—Continued.
"We photograph a spurious bank
note. It is magnified, and by the ab
sence of a tiny dot the proof of the al
teration is found. On account of the
lack of a dot the forger Is detected.
The savant Helmholtz was the discov
erer of this method of detecting these
faults. Two bank notes, one authentic,
ihe other a forgery, were placed side
by side In a stereoscope of strong mag
nifying power, when the faults were at
once detected. Helmholtz's experiment
probably seemed fantastic to the forger
condemned by a stereoscope. Oh, well,
today ought not a like experiment on
the retina of a dead man’s eye give a
like result ?
“Instruments have been highly per
fected since the time when Dr. Bourion
made his experiments, and If the law
of human psysiology has not changed
the seekers of Invisible causes must
have rapidly advanced In their
mysterious pursuits. Who knows
whether at the Instant of the last
agony that the dying person does
not put all the Intensity of
life Into the retina, giving a hundred
fold power to that lfist. supreme look?’’
At this point of his reflections Ber
nardet experienced some hesitation.
While he was not thoroughly acquaint
ed with physiology and philosophy, he
had seen so much, so many things; had
known so many strange occurrences
and had studied many men. He knew—
toy he had closely questioned wretches
who had been saved from drowning at
the very last possible moment, some of
whom had attempted suicide, others
who had been almost drowned through
accident, and each one had told him
that his whole life, from his earliest
recollection, had flashed through his
mind in the instant of mortal agony
yes, a whole lifetime in one instant of
cerebral excitement.
Had savants been able to solve this
wonderful mystery? The resume of an
existence In one vibration! Was It pos
sible? Yet—Bernardet still used the
word.
Ana wny, in an analogous »cuk»iuu,
could not the look of a dying man be
seized In an Intensity lasting an In
stant, ns memory brought In a single
flash so many diverse remembrances?
“I know, since It is the Imagination,
and that the dead cannot see, while the
Image on the retina is a fact, a fact
contradicted by wiser men than I."
Bernardet thought on these mysteries
until his head began to ache.
“I shall make myself ill over it," he
thought. “And there Is something to
be done.”
Then In his dusty little room, his
brain over excited, he became enthused
with one idea. Hts surroundings fell
away from him; he saw nothing—
everything disappeared—the books, the
papers, the walls, the visible objects,
as did also the objections, the denials,
the demonstrative impossibilities. And
absolute conviction seized him to the
exclusion of all extraneous surround
ings. This conviction was absolute.
Instinctive, Irresistible, powerful, filling
him with entire faith.
"This unknown thing X will find.
What is to be done I will do," he de
clared to himself.
Ho threw the pamphlet on tbe table,
arose from his chair and descended to
the dining room, where hts wife and
children were waiting for him. He
rubbed his hand3 with glee, and his
face looked Joyous.
“Didst thou discover the trail?” Mine.
Bernardet asked very simply as a
working woman would ask her husband
if he had had a good day. The eldest
of the little girls rushed toward him.
“Papa! My dear little papa!"
“My darling!"
The child asked her father in a
sweet voice, “Art thou satisfied with
thy crime, papa?”
"We will not talk about that," Ber
nardet replied. "To table. After dinner
I will develop the pictures which I
have taken with my kodak, but let us
amuse ourselves now. It Is my fete
day. I wish to forget all about busi
ness. Let us dine now and be as happy
a3 possible.”
CHAPTER VII.
The murder of M. Rovere, committed
In broad daylight In a quarter of Paris
filled with life and movement, caused a
widespread sensation. There, was so
much mystery mixed in the affair.
What could be ascertained about the
dead man's life was very dramatically
written up by Paul Iiodier in a sketch,
and this, republished everywhere and
: enlarged upon, soon gave to the crime
i of the Boulevard de Clichy the Interest
of a Judicial romance. All that there
was of vulgar curiosity in man awoke
as atavistic bestiality at the smell ol
blood.
What was this M. Rovere. former
consul to Buenos Ayres or Havana,
amateur collector of objects of vertu,
member of the Society of Bibliophiles,
where he had not been seen for a long
time? What enemy had entered his
room for the purpose of cutting his
throat. Might he not have been assas
sinated by some, thief who knew that
I his rooms contained a collection ol
I works of art? The fete at Montmarte
was often In full blast In front of the
house where the murder was oommlt
i ted. and among the crowd of ex-prison
birds and malefactors who are always
1 attendant upon foreign kirmesses
might not some one of them have re
turned and committed the crime? Tht
j papers took advantage of the occaslor
to moralize upon permitting these fetes
I to be held in the outlying boulevards
I where vice and crime seemed to spring
spontaneously from the soil.
But no one, not one journal—perhaps
by order—spoke of that unknown vis
itor whom Monlche called the Individ
ual and whom the portress had seer
standing beside M. Rovere In front oi
the open safe. Paul Rodler in hli
sketch scarcely referred to the fact tha
justice had a clew Important enougl
to penetrate the mastery of the crlm<
I and In the end arrest the murderer
i and the readers while awaiting devel
opments asked what mystery was hid
den in this in aider. Monlche at tlmei
wore a frightened yet important air
He felt that he was an object of curl
oslty to many, the center of prejudices
The porter and hie wife possessed i
terrible secret. They were raised li
their own estimation.
“We shall appear at the trial," sail
Monlche, seeing himself already befor
the red robes and holding up his ham
to swear that he would tell the trull
the whole truth and nothing but th
truth.
And as they sat together in their lit
tie lodge they talked the matter ove
i and over and brought up every inciden
i i M. Rovere’s life which might have
bearing on the case.
“Do you remember the young ma
i who came one day and insisted on see
ing M. le Consul?”
“Ah, very well indeed!" said Mo
niche. “I had forgotten that one—
felt hat, hi-- face bronzed and a dro
1 accent. H<~ had come from away o
; somewhere. He was probably a Span
lard."
“Some beggar likely, a peer dev
whom the consul had known in Amer
ica. In the colonies, one knows not
where.”
"A bad face!” said Monlche. "M.
Rovere received him, however, and
gave him aid, I remember. If the young
man had come often, I should think
that he struck the blow, and also, I
ought to add, if there was not the
other.”
“Yes, but there Is the other,” his wife
replied. “There Is the one whom I saw
standing In front of the coupons and
who was looking at those other papers
with flashing eyes, I give my word.
There Is that one, Moniche, and I am
willing to put my hand into the fire
and yours, too, Moniche, If It Is not
he.”
“If he Is the one, he will be found.”
“Oh, but If he has disappeared? One
disappears very quickly in these days.”
“We shall see; we shall see. Justice
reigns, and we are here.” He said
that "we are here” as a grenadier of
the guard before an Important engage
ment.
They had taken the body to the
morgue. At the hour fixed for the
autopsy Bernardet arrived. He seemed
much excited and asked M. Ginory if
since their conversation In M. Rovere’s
library he had reflected and decided to
permit him to make the experiment—
the famous experiment reported for so
many years as useless, absurd, almost
ridiculous.
“With any one but M. Ginory I
should not dare to hope," thought the
police officer, “but he does not sneer
at strange discoveries.”
He had brought his photographic ap
paratus. that kodak which he declared
was more .dangerous to the criminal
than a loaded weapon. He had devel
oped the negatives which he had taken,
and of the three two had come out in
good condition. The face of the mur
dered man appeared with a clearness
which in proofs rendered it formidable
as In the reality, and the eyes, those
tragic, living eyes, retained their ter
rible, accusing expression which the su
preme agony had left in them. The
light had struck full on the eyes, and
they spoke. Bernardet showed the
proofs to M. Ginory. They examined
them with a magnifying glass, but they
showed only the emotion, the agony,
the anger, of that last moment. Ber
nardet hoped to convince M. Glndry
that Bourlon’s experiment was not a
failure.
u nuts was ine nour named
for the autopsy. Twenty minutes be
fore Bernardet was at the morgue. He
walked restlessly about outside among
the spectators. Some were women,
young girls, students and children who
were hovering about the place hoping
that some chance would permit them
to satisfy their morbid curiosity and
to enter and gaze on those slabs where
on lay—swollen, livid, disfigured—the
bodies.
Never perhaps in his life had the po
lice officer been so strongly moved
with a desire to succeed. He brought
to his tragic task all the ardor of an
apostle. It was not the Idea of success,
the renown or the possibility of ad
vancement which urged him on. It
was the Joy, the glory, of aiding prog
ress, of attaching his name to a new
discovery. He worked for art and the
love of art. As he wandered about his
sole thought was of his desire to test
Dr. Bourion’s experiment, of the real
ization of hts dream. “Ah, If M. Gtn
ory will only permit!” he thought.
As he formulated that hope in his
mind he saw M. Glnory descend from
the fiacre. He hurried up to him and
saluted him respectfully. Seeing Ber
nardet so moved and the first one on
the spot, he could not repress a smile.
"I see you are still enthused."
"I have thought of nothing else all
night, M. Glnory."
"Well, but.” said M. Glnory in a tone
which seemed to Bernardet to Imply
hope, “no Idea must be rejected, and
1 do not see why we should not try the
experiment. I have reflected upon It.
Where is the unsuitableness?”
"Ah, M. le Juge,” cried the agent,
"If you permit It, who knows but we
may revolutionize medical Jurispru
dence ?”
“Revolutionize! Revolutionize!" he
cried. Would the examining magis
trate yet find it an Idiotic Idea?
M. Glnory passed around the bufld
ing and entered at a small door open
ing on the Seine. The registrar fol
lowed him, and behind him came the
police agent. Bernardet wished to wait
until the doctors delegated to perform
the autopsy should arrive, and the head
keeper of the morgue advised him to
possess himself with patience and
while he was waiting to look around
and see the latest cadavers which had
been brought there.
"We have had In eight days a larger
number of women than men, which is
rare, and these women were nearly all
habitues of the public halls and race
tracks.”
nuu now can you ten mat :
"Because they have pretty feet.”
Professor Morin arrived with a con
frere, a young Pasteurlan doctor, with
a singular mind, broad and receptive,
and who passed among his companions
for a man fond of chimeras, a little re
tiring, however, and given over to mak
ing experiments and to vague dreams.
M. Morin Haluted M. Ginory and pre
sented to him the young doctor, Erwin
by name, and said to the magistrate
that the house students had probably
begun the autopsy to gain time.
Tile body, stripped of its clothing,
lay upon the dissecting table, and
three young men with velvet skull
caps, with aprons tied about their
wuists, were standing about the corpse.
They had already begun the autopsy.
The mortal wound looked redder than
ever in the whiteness of the naked
; body.
Bernardet glided into the room,
trying to keep out of sight, listening
1 and looking, and above everything not
losing sight of M. Ginory's face—a face
in which the look was keen, penetrat
ing, sharp as a knife, a3 he bent over
i. the pale face of the murdered man,
regarding It as searchingly as the sur
’ geons’ scalpels were searching the
wound and the flesh. Among those
men In their black clothes, some with
, bared heads in order to work better,
others with hats on, the stretched out
1 corpse seemed like a wax figure upon
» a marble slab. Bernardet thought of
1 those images which he had seen copied
, from Rembrandt’s pictures—the poet
, with the anatomical pinchers and the
shambles. The surgeons bent over the
body, their hands busy and their scis
r sors cutting the muscles. That wound,
t which had let out Ills life, that large
i wound, like a monstrous and grimacing
mbttth, they enlarged still more. The
l head oscillated from side to si<Je. and
- they were obliged to prop it with some
mats. The eyes remained the sapit
- and in' spite of the hours which had
i passed seemed as living, as menacing
1 and eloquent as the night before. Thej
t were, however, veiled with something
- vitreous n- er the pupils, like the araau
I rosis of death, yei full of that anger
111 of that fright or that ferocious mate
diction which was reproduced in a
startling manner in the negatives taken
by Bernardet.
"The secret of the crime is In that
look," thought the police agent. "Those
eyes see; those eyes speak. They tell
what they know; they accuse some
one.”
Then while the professor, his asso
ciates and his students went on with
the autopsy, exchanging observations,
following In the mutilated body their
researches for the truth, trying to he
very accurate as to the nature of the.
wound, the form even of the knife
with which it was made, Bernardet
softly approached the examining mag
istrate, and In a low tone timidly, re
spectfully, he spoke some words, which
were Insistent, however, and pressing,
urging the magistrate to quickly in
terfere.
“Ah, M. le Juge, this is the mo
ment! You who can do everything—”
The examining magistrate has with
us absolute power. He does whatever
seems to him best, and he wishes to
do a thing because he wishes to do
it. M. Ginory, curious by nature and
because it was his duty, hesitated,
scratched his ear, rubbed his nose, bit
his lips, listened to the supplicating
murmur of the police officer, but de
cided not to speak just then and con
tinued gazing with a fixed stare at
the dead man.
This thought came to him more
over, insistent and Imperious—-that he
was there to testify In all things in
favor of that truth the discovery of
which Imposed upon him—and sudden
ly his sharp voice interrupted the sur
geon’s work.
"Messieurs, does not the expression
of the open eyes strike you?”
“Yes; they express admirably the
most perfect agony,” M. Morin replied.
"And does It not seem,” asked the
examining magistrate, “as if they were
fixed with that expression on the mur
derer?”
"Without doubt. The mouth seems
to curse and the eyes to mence.”
"And what if the last image seen—
In fact, that of the murderer—still re
mains upon the retina, of the eyes?”
M. Morin looked at the magistrate in
astonishment. His air was slightly
mocking and the lips and eyes assumed
a quizzical expression. But Bernardet
was very much surprised when he
heard one remark. Dr. Erwin raised
his head, and while he seemed to ap
prove of that which M. Ginory had
advanced he said: "That image must
have disappeared from the retina some
time ago.”
who Knows.' said M. Ginory.
Bernard ot experienced a profound
emotion. He felt that this time the
problem would be officially settled. M.
Ginory had not feared ridicule when
he spoke, and a discussion arose there,
in that dissecting room, in the pres
ence of the corpse. What had existed
only in a dream in Bernardet’s little
study became here, in the presence of
the examining magistrate, a member
of the institute, and the young stu
dents, almost full fledged doctors, a
question frankly discussed in all its
bearings. And it was he standing back,
he, a poor devil of a police officer, who
had urged this examining magistrate
to question this savant.
"At the back of the eyes,” said the
professor, touching the eyes with his
scalpel, "there is nothing, believe me.
It is elsewhere that you must look
for your proof.”
"But”—and M. Ginory repeated his
"who knows?”—“what if we try it
this time? Will it inconvenience you,
my dear master?” M. Morin made a
movement with his lips which meant
"peuh!” and his whole countenance
expressed his scorn. "But I see no in
convenience.” At the end of a mo
ment he said in a sharp tone, "it will
be lost time.”
"A little more, a little less,” replied
M. Ginory. "The experiment is worth
the trouble to make it."
M. Ginory had proved without doubt
that he, like Bernardet, wished to satis
fy his curiosity, and in looking at the
open eyes of the corpse, although in
his duties he never allowed himself
to be influenced by the sentimental
or the dramatic, yet it seemed to him
that those eyes urged him to insist—
nay, even supplicated him.
“I know, I know,” said M. Morin,
“what you dream of in your magis
* trate's brain is as amusing as a tale of
Edgar Poe’s. But to find in those eyes
the image of the murderer—come, now,
leave that to the Inventive genius of a
Rudyard Kipling, but do not mix the
impossible with our researches in med
ical jurisprudence. Let us not make
romance. Let us made, you the exam
inations and I the dissection.”
The short time in which the profes
sor had spoken did not exactly please
M. Ginory, who new, a little through
self conceit (since he had made the
proposition), a little through curiosity,
decided that he would not beat a re
treat "Is there anything to risk?” he
asked. "And it might be the one chance
in a thousand.
"But there is no chance,” quickly
answered M. Morin, "none, none."
Then, relenting a little, he entered
the discussion, explaining why he had
no faith.
(Continued Next Week.)
GROWING THE YOUNG STOCK.
From the Nebraska Farmer.
Confronted with high priced feeds the
farmer and stock grower Is compelled to
feed Judiciously. There Is a way to feed
even GO-cent com profitably when $6 and
$7 per hundred may be had for It when
turned Into beef or pork. The one way
to do this most effectually is to make the
young stock grow from the start.
There Is no money in "roughing" young
stock. Such treatment of pigs, calves and
colts will be found a losing proposition If
any figures are kept on the operation. II
Is much better to so balance the ration
that the concentrated foods will give their
maximum feeding value when blended
with that very plentiful food, grass. Now
Is the time to grow the young things
cheap and rapidly.
Pigs of April and May farrow are now
ready to leave the dam and they should
be taught to Oat so that when they are
weaned they will not lose a day in growth.
This may be done by keeping before them
the foods which they shall be expected
to live upon after weaning. We find thal
the feeders who derive the best results
grind such foods as corn, oats, barley, al
falfa. or whatever foods seem to tx
handiest stud feed these dry, except foi
having a bit of milk or water poured ovei
the dry, ground feed after it Is distributee
In the trough. We know' of a great man}
feeders who soak the feed, but we ar<
led to believe that tho one who mixes tht
least water with teed for young stocl
will dertve the best results. It is real!}
not necessary to grind the corn, as th<
young pig is abundantly capable of grind
ing his own corn.
Alfalfa, if It was green and nicely cure<
at time of putting Into the stack Is i
splendid thing to grind with oats am
corn. It may be ground In any of thi
oidtnary burr mills by first chopping it h
short lengths In an ensilage cutter, or i
machine made for the purpose. Thli
makes the Ideal feed for either calves o
pigs, and we presume that it would di
full well for the colt.
To meet the deficit In the budget th<
French minister of finance suggests th<
doubting of the licensing fees of ven
ders of absinthe. This taxing of th<
“green peidF' will, It is thought, bi
i popular, llw minister anticipates tlm
|tt will bring him In 12,000,000.
TIME TABLES FAST
! BY WHOLE MINUTE
! -
The Man With the $700 Chron
ometer Says Engine Drivers
Are Given Leeway.
"We're one minute late in starting,”
observed a man to his seatroate on an
outward bound train at the Grand
Central the other afternoon, accord
ing to the Chicago Inter Ocean. "Either
the train Is late or my watch ts slow.
I don't think It’s my watch, tor U’a
as absolutely accurato a chronometer
as there Is In America. 1 paid $700
for it,” he added prldefully.
i "Your watch Is all right and so Is
the train,” replied his companion. ‘It
is something that is not known to the
public, but it Is a fact that most of the
great railroads nowadays make their
published time cards—those that it Is
sues to the public at large—e.xactly
one minute faster than those they fur
nish their train employes. For instance,
this train, according to the time table,
is due to leave the station at 4:69
I The time card the engineer runs by
gives the leaving . time as 6 o’clock,
and at 6 o’clock to the second he pulls
out,
“The reason for that Is this: I get
to the gate at exactly 4:69. I ana agree
ably surprised to see that the train
I want to take is still there and slide
through the gate just as St is closing.
I get aboard and In my seat just os
the train starts. I look out of the
window and see no one hastening down
the platform trying to make a swift
swoop and land on the rear step at
the last moment.
1 If there is any one left behind he I
js on the other side of the gate. The
railroads have adopted Oils plan of
having their public time tables 6# sec
onds faster so that the gate leading
to the train may be closed at the mo- |
ment the train is scheduled to start, '
and so that those who get Inside at
the last moment can have exactly one
minute to get aboard, which Is ample
If one Is at all nimble."
IRISH SHILLELAHS ARE
GROWN IN AMERICA
Chicago, Special: Welrasthrul Welr
asthru Blackthorn shilleiahs are now
grown in America and shipped to Ire
land, where they are sold on tbe quay
at Queenstown as the genuine Irish ar
ticle.
Police Sergeant Maurice Crotty, who
has Just returned from a six weeks'
visit to the Emerald Isle, Is responsible
for the assertion that counterfeit shll
lehahs are sold extensively In Queens
town and other Irish cities. He brought
half a dozen blackthorns back with
him, but he knows they are the real
thing because he cut them himself in
the Cratlowe woods. County Clare.
"Many a man In America who thinks
he Is carrying an Irish blackthorn is
in reality lugging around a stick that
was grown in this country,” he says.
"Many thousands of these counterfeit
blackthorns are sold annually in Ire
land, principally at the quay in Queens
town.
"The genius blackthorn is scarce in
Ireland on account of the great quant
ity that has been cut in reoent years.
Limerick, my native county, was In
vaded a few years ago by a syndicate
of Chicago and New York merchants,
who bought every blackthorn In sight.
Anybody who Is at all wise wlH not
buy a blackthorn from the peddlers on
the dock at Queenstown. You might
get the genuine article, but you run a
chance of getting a stick that was
grown in Illinois.
"People in Ireland who are onto the I
game told me that shiploads of these
counterfeit blackthorns are brought
from America every year. They are
shipped over in gunny sacks from New
York, and on arrival in Queenstown
I are taken to the shiBeJab factory,
I where expert workmen matte them in
to blackthorns that defy detection. The
wood is stained to the proper shade
and the ferule is put on—the genuine
old country ferrule.—and Fm told when
the stick Is finished It would fool a
Connaught ranger.
"A certain Chicago man liad a fake
blackthorn stick factory. He ships the
sticks to a New York agent, who in
turn ships them to Ireland, where they
| are sold to Americans, and even to
Irishmen.”
I
From a Disappointed Wan.
From Truth.
Few men reach 50 wit hot being;
grateful that they did not get the wom
en they wanted.
The modern woman gives the hus
band the honeymoon, and cakes the
rest of the life for herself.
The more we cultivate reason In
woman, the more unreasonable she be
comes. __
Cause and Effect.
She was willing quite to marry;
In fact, didn't care to tarry
In a state of splnsterhood, they say.
But she had a little brother;
That’s the reason, and no other,
Why she’s traveling in the single way.
A Draw.
' Old Grouch—So you had a fight with
Clarence. He claims he licked you.
Cholly—Oh! the bostah! It's twue
he wumpled my cwavat dweadfuily,
but when it was all ovah his eoHah
was fwightfully wilted.
Howe—So the famous baseball player
ate a Welsh rarebit before retiring and
bad some wonderful dreams? Were
his dreams characteristic of his profes
sion?
Wise—I should say so. Why. he was
pitching and tossing ab night.
In Society.
Phoebe—Which man are yon going to
marry?
Natlca—I don’t know; but it doesn’t
make any particular difference, any way,
one man’s alimony is as good as an
other's.
Few and Short After That Period.
Book Clerk—“The Love Letters of a
Husband to His Wife" makes a very
bulky volume.
The Proprietor—Oh! well, I guess they
were written during the first year of
their married life.
A Good Substitute.
De Hitt—Lawn mowers are so high
1 priced 1 wish I could think of a geod
substitute.
De Witt—A. few children to play on
the lawn will make one entirely un
necessary.
Bad Blunder.
Miss Rambo—So de wedding was a
great disappointment?
i Mr. Sambo—I should say 30. We
1 wired to town for a hundred razors,
“rush.’’ an' de fool merchant Seat all
1 safety «kzors.
’ The United fitnt&^Ws the greatest
variety «( postage stamps.
-- —1—=
The Niger Baby. v
From the London Standard.
Matrons of the West may be Inter
ested to hear the details of the Niger
ian native baby’s morning toilet. Any
thing over three months old la no long
er a "baby”'to the native mater fami
lias, and Is bathed with the other chil
dren (generally a numerous brood) In
the chill morning air before sunrise.
The Httfe mite yells lustily while the
cold water Is splashed over Its brown
body, arid generally continues the
chorus when put aside to dry (towels
do not form part of the household
equipment.) The bathing process fin
ished, the Infants are subjected to a
sort of water cure treatment. The
mother seizes a child, scoops up a
handful of water, and, using her thumb
as a kind of spout, squirts It with ex
traordinary dexterity into the young
ster's mouth and down its throat. Pro
tests In the shape of loud gurgles, hor
rible chokings, and desperate strug
gles are quite unheeded; the steady
stream of water continues to pour
down the child's throat until the moth
er's practiced touch on the patient's
distended stomach tells her that the
limit of capacity has been reached. All
babies are submitted to this treatment,
which is believed to have a most
strengthening effect, _
The Penalty of Reputation.
, t guess I’ll run away from here an’ sail
acrose/jthe sea;
for no one any longer seems to care a bit
for me; ,
I want to be a pirate or a cowboy on the
plains, _ . ,
Dr p'rhaps I’ll be a bandit an 111 hold up
railway trains. ....
I’m sick of runntn' errands an a-dom of
the chores, ....
I’m sick of wipin' off my feet an closm
open doors; . , .
I’m sick of everything there is, but what
makes me feel blue. ___
Todaj I got a lickin' for a thing I dldn t
It’s pretty tough to be a boy that’s got an
awful name
(For doing tricks, cos then It seems you
alius get the blame.
Becos I've broken windows, an’ becos I
chased a cat
An’ becos I threw a snowball once at
Deacon White’s plug hat,
Whenever anything goes wrong they alius
look for me;
I guess they think no other boy can climb
an apple tree
An’ steal the fruit; an' so It seems most
every day or two
I have to take a lickin’ for things I didn’t
do.
There's Stubby Green, as bad as me; he
stoned a peddler's horse,
An’ when he ran away they came an’
\ looked for me, of course;
An’ when somebody put a snake In Grand
ma Perkins’ bed,
“That’s one of Dicky- Watson’s tricks,"
was what the neighbors said.
An1 when eomebody wheeled away
Brown's baby cab an’ hid It,
f’There’s nothin' to It," they declared, “but
Dicky Watson did It."
It's "Dicky Watson” all the time, as
though they alius knew—
Today I got a lickin’ for a thing I didn't
do.
I ain't complain'; after all, maybe It's
just as well;
I'd ruther take a lickin’ than on other
fellows tell.
But Juat the same, I wleh I'd get awful
sick some day,
An* have to lie up there In bed an’ not
get out to play,
Then maybe something would bo done an’
maybe they would see
That there are other boys around that are
as bad as me;
Then maybe they’d be sorry, an’ p’raps
they’d promise, too.
That they’d never lick me for the things I
didn’t do.
—Detroit Free Press.
Mm Mary <3. Baker Eddy, who, of
course, has no faith in medicine, told a
western Christian Scientist, at one of
her latest audiences, as anecdote about
a friend of hers.
This friend, a thin and nervous wom
an, could not sleep. She visited her
physlcftm and the man said;
"Do you eat anything just before you
go to bed?”
"Oh, no, doctor," the patient replied.
"Woll,” said the physician, "Just keep
a pitcher of milk and some biscuit be
side you, and every night the last thing
you do, take a light meal."
"But doctor,” cried the lady, "you
told me on no account to eat anything
before retiring.”
’’Pooh, pooh,” said the doctor, "that
■was three months ago. Science has
made enormous strides since then."
EAGER TO WORK.
Health Regained by Right Food.
The average healthy man or woman
Is usually eager to be busy at some
•useful task or employment.
But let dyspepsia or Indigestion get
hold of one, and all endeavor becomes
a burden.
“A year ago, after recovering from
an operation,” writes a Mich, lady, my
stomach and nerves began to give me
much trouble.
"At times my appetite was voracious,
but when Indulged, Indigestion followed.
Other times I had no appetite what
ever. The food I took did not nourish
me and I grew weaker than ever.
1 “1 lost interest In everything and
wanted to be alone. I had always bad
good nerves, but now the merest trllle
would upset me and bring on a violent
headache. Walking across tbe room
Was an effort and prescribed exercise
was out of the question.
“I had seen Grape-Nuts advertised
but did not believe what I read, al
the time. At last when It seemed at
If I were literally starving, 1 began tc
eat Grape-Nuts.
"I bad not been able to work for t
year, but now after two months or
Grape-Nuts I am eager to be at worl
again. My stomach gives me no trou
Me now, my nerves are steady as ever
and Interest in life and ambition havt
come back with tbe return to health.
"There's a Reason.”
Name given by Postum Co., Battli
Greek, Mich. Read ‘The Road to Well
yille," In pkgs.
Ever read the above letter? /
new one appears from time to time
They arc genuine, true, and fuii o;
human interest.
Nothing l Ate
Agreed With Me.
MRS, LENORA BODENHAMER.
Mrs. Lenora Bodenhamer, It. B\ D. t.
Box 1)9, Kernersville, N. C., writes:
"I suffered with stomach trouble
and indigestion for some time, and noth
ing that I ate agreed with me. I was very
nervous and experienced a continual
feeling of uneasiness and fear. I took
medicine from the doctor, but it did ms
no good.
“I found in one of your Peruna books a
description of my symptoms. I then
wrote to Dr. Hartman for advice. Hr
said I had catarrh of the stomach, t
took Peruna and Manalin and followed
his directions and can now say that I
feel as well as I ever did.
“I hope that all who are afflicted with
the dame symptoms will take Peruna, as
it has certainly cured me."
The above is only one of hundreds who
have written similar letters to Dr.
Hartman. Just one such case as this
entitles Peruna to the candid .consider
ation of every one similarly afflicted. If
this be true of the testimony of one per
son what ought to be the testimony of
hundreds, yes thousands, of honest, sin
cere people? We have in our hies a great
many other testimoni''
The Superstitious Moslem.
From Harper's Weekly.
The Moslem faith lays much stress
upon rites and incantations for pro
pitiating evil spirits, which are sup
posed to be in constant attendance
upon all daily concerns in the life ot
man. These spirits, called jinpee, may
become visible b$r a change In tfte den
sity of their composition. Suppbsed te
consist of minute particles, they be
come visible or invisible by a rapid ex
pansion or diminution of their volume.
The jinnee are not all spirits of dark
ness, but comprise the good pnes as
well. These latter may be easily rec
ognized on sight by their resplendent
beauty, though the former type are
hideous and disgusting. Many culti
vated and highly educated Mohamme
dans claim to have seen jlnrtees, and to
have conversed with them, and they
display charms and talismans tor sum
moning the good and warding pff the
evil demons. During the-feast of Ra
madan, all evil spirits are supposed to
be strictly confined within the bowels
of the earth, and unable to cause any
disturbance. At all other times, tha
“sons of the faithful” seek to exclude
these undesirable attendants from tha
houses by scattering salt or Irpn filings
about the floor, especially if the room
be an empty one. The favorite lurking
places of jinnee are supposed to bo
crossroads, vacant houses, baths, un
covered jugs or pails and pawning
mouths. This necessitates the covering
up and thorough sprinkling of recep
tacles which might harbor spirits,
whenever the householder leaves home.
Special prayers for such preventions
are also authorized by the Koran.
The Moslem is constantly repeating
pious phrases, such as "In the name of
God, the compassionate, the merciful,"
to drive away evil presences whenever
some business transaction is undertak
en. This Is the custom before entering
or leaving a house, meeting or parting
from a friend, partaking of a meal,
taking a bath or killing any animal for
food. By this means, the bad jinnee
and any harmful consequences ars
averted. Supposedly for a similar rea
son a continuous antlphonal chant is
kept up by the watchers at a deathbed,
from the moment the last spark of life
has departed, continuing yntll the bu
rial has taken place.
"Virtue is its own reward, as the
fatted calf discovered,” says the Phila
delphia Record, "when it got It in the
neck for the prodigal son."
"A girl can marry a man because he
is a good dancer and then blame him
for it,” declares the New York Psess.
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lngton, Meadvllle, Mo.
SICK HEADACHE
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They also relieve Us
treso trom Dyspepsia, la
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torpid uvxr. Ba
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SMALL PILL SHALL DOSE, SHALL PMCE,
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Fac-Simile Signature
refuse substitutes.