Before the War.
Thorns* Nelson Page recounts an In
stance showing that southern hospital
ity was not always appreciated.
A guest asked the loan of a horse to
carry him to the next stopping place.
The host accordingly lent hhn his horse
and sent along a negro boy—It was
before the war—to bring the horse
pack.
After several days the boy was still
missing, and some one was sent to
punt him up. The messenger found
lint at last and demanded why he had
hot returned with the horse.
"Cause dot gent’man done sell de
I boss," was the reply.
"Well, why didn't you come back and
j»ay so?”
i "Hi! He done sell me too," said the
boy.
father
bright tad of 10, who persists, de
the parental objection and decree.
In reading literature of the "half-dime”
-ariety.
“That Is a nice way to bo spending
your time," said the father on one oc
casion. "What's your ambition, any
how?"
“Dad," responded the youngster, with
smile, "I'd like to have people i
like aspen leaves at the mere
of my name."
■cramp—Lady, have you a pair of
.trousers which your husband has dis
carded?
• Kind I,ady—Yes' Here they are. but
they will not last long—my husband
from weakness.
;«L3 IN ONK DAY
MtOMO Quinine Tablet*
loney If It falle to cur*,
intnro Ison each box. 25*
TRUE.
The Comedian—It certainly doe* bore
•ne to death.
The Soubrntte—What doe*?
The Comedian—A mad bull.
He Knew the Reason.
: A rather pompous looking deacon In
g certain city church was asked to
take charge of a class of boys during
(he absence of the regular teacher.
While endeavoring to Impress upon
their young minds the Importance ot
jiving a Christian life, the following
question was propounded:
•‘Why do people call me a Christian, i
children?” the worthy dignitary asked,
AtitihSlng very erect and suit ling down
m on them.
"Because they don't know you," was
the ready answer of a bright eyed lit
tle boy, responding to the Ingratiating
•mile with one equally guileless and
P winning. _
Begging His Pardon.
There once was a versatile kaiser
Who in handing out talk was no miser;
Ho got a straight tip
To button his lip.
And now the kaiser is wiser.
—Chicago Tribune.
The man who permits his head and Ills
heart to work In unison generally remains
poor.
LIVING ADVERTISEMENT.
Glow ot Health Speaks toe Postnm,
It requires no scientific training to ,
discover whether coffee disagrees or.
not.
Simply stop It for a time und us* (
Postum In place of It, then note tbs
beneficial effects. The truth will ap-'
pear.
“Six years ago I was In a very bad
condition," writes a Teun. lady. "I |
suffered from ludlgestlou, nervousness
and Insomnia.
“I was then an inveterate coffee
drinker, but it was long before I could
be persuaded that It was coffee that
hurt me. Finally I decided to leave it
off a few days aud find out the truth.
“The first moruing I left off coffee I
had a raging headache, so I decided I
must have something to take the place
of coffee,” (The headache was caused
by the reaction of the coffee drug
caffeine.)
“Having heard of Postum through a
friend who used It, I bought a package
and tried It. I did not like it at first,
but after I learned how to make It
right, according to directions on pkg.,
11 would uot change back to coffee for
anything.
“When I began to use Postum I
i weighed only 117 lbs. Now 1 weigh
170 and as I have not taken any tonic
In that time 1 ran only attribute my
recovery of good health to the use of
Postum in place of coffee.
“My husband says 1 am a living ad
vertisement for Postum. I am glad to
be the means of inducing my many
friends to use Postum, too."
Name given by Postum Co., Bnttlo
Creek, Mich. Read “The Road tc Woll
vllle,” in pkgs. "There’s a Reason.” J
Rvar read the above letter? A
new one appears from time to time.
They ere genuine, true, end full
mt human interest.
! y ■' r*1 1
I The Crime of
|aar the Bo\ilevard
CHAPTER IX.—(Continued.)
ZSrnodet had only to cross some eor
; tAor and mount a few steps to reach
kae gallery upon which M. <lluory s
joom opened. While waiting to be ad
mitted he passed up and down. Seated
on benches were a number of malefac
tors, some of whom knew him well,
Jvho were waiting examination. He
was accustomed to see this sight dally,
and without being moved, but this time
he was overcome by a sort of agony, a
spasm which contracted even his fin
gers and left his nerves in as quivering
a state as does insomnia. Truly in the
present case he was much more con
cerned than In an ordinary man hunt.
The officer experienced the fear which
an Inventor feels before the perfection
of a new discovery. He had undertak
en a formidable problem, apparently
insoluble, und he desired to solve it.
Once or twice he took out from the
pocket of his redingote an old worn case
and looked at the proofs of the retina,
which he had pasted on a card. There
could be no doubt, This figure, a little
confused, had the very look of the man
who had bent over the grave. M.
Glnory would be struck by it when he
had Jacques Dantin before him, pro
vided the examining magistrate still
had the desire which Bernadet had in
cited in him to pusli the matter to the
end. Fortunately M. Glnory was very
curious. With this curiosity anything
might happen. The time seemed long.
What If this Dantin, who spoke of
leaving Paris, should disappear, should
escape the examination? What miser
able little affair occupied M. Glnory?
Would he ever be at liberty?
The door opened, a man in a blouse
was led out, the registrar appeared on
the threshold, and Bernadet asked if
he could not ,see M. Glnory Immediate
ly, as he had an Important communi
cation to make to him.
“•I will not detain him long,” he said.
Far from appearing annoyed, the
magistrate seemed delighted to see the
officer. He related to him till he knew—
how he had seen the man at M. Ro
vere’s funeral; that Mme. Moniche had
recognized him as the one whom she
had surprised standing with M. Rovere
before the open safe; that he had
signed his name and taken flrsfrank in
the funeral cortege, less by reason of an
old friendship which dated from child
hood than by that s'.range and Impul
sive sentiment which compels the guilty
man to haunt the scene of his crime, to
remain near his victim, as if the mur
der, the blood, the corpse, held for him
a morbid fascination.
"I shall soon know," said M. Ginory.
He dictated to the registrar a citation
to appear before him, rang the bell and
gave the order to serve the notice on
M. Dantin at the given address and to
bring him to the palais.
"Do not lose sight of him,” he said
to Bernadet and began some other ex
aminations. Bernadet bowed and his
eyes shone like those of a sleuthliound
on the scent of his prey.
CHAPTER X.
Between the examining magistrate
who questioned and the man cited to
appear before him wtio replied it was
a duel, a close game, rapid and tragic,
in which each feint might make a mor
tal wound, in which each parry and
thrust might be decisive. No one In the
world has the power of the man who,
in a word, can change to a prisoner the
one who enters the palais as a passerby.
Behind this inquisitor of the law the
prison stands, the tribunal in its red
robes appears, the beams of the scaffold
cas.t their sinister shadows, and the
magistrate’s cold chamber already
seems to have the lugubrious humidity
of the dungeons where the condemned
await their fate.
Jacques Dantln arrived at the palais
in answer to the magistrate’s citation
with .the apparent nlacrity of a man
who, regretting a friend tragically put
out of the world, wishes to aid In
avenging him. He did not hesitate a
second, and Bernadet, who saw him en
ter the carriage, was struck with the
seeming eagerness and haste with
which he responded to the magistrate’s
order. When M. Gtnory was informed
that Jacques Dantln had arrived, he
allowed an involuntary “Ah!” to es
cape him. This “Ah!” seemed to ex
press the satisfaction of an impatient
spectator when the signal Is given
which announces that the curtain is
about to be raised. For the examining
magistrate the drama in which he was
about to unravel the mystery was to
begin. He kept his eyes fixed upon the
door, attributing, correctly, a great im
portance to the first impression the
comer would make upon him as he en
tered the room. M. Gtnory found that
he was much excited. This was to him
a novel thing, but by exercising his
strong will he succeeded in mastering
the emotion, and his face and manner
showed no trace of it.
In the open door M. Jacques Dantin
appeared. The first view, for the magis
trate, was favorable. The man was tall,
well built; he bowed with grace, and
looked straight before him. But at the
same time M. Glnory was struck by
i the strange resemblance of this haughty
I face to that Image obtained by means
of Bernadet's kodak. It seemed to him
that this Image had the same stature,
the same forrri as thai man surrounded
l by the hazy clouds. Upon a second ex
■ amination it seemed to the magistrate
that the face betrayed a restrained vio
I ience, a latent brutality. The eyes were
stern, under their bristling brows the
I pointed beard, quite thin on the cheeks
I showed the heavy Jaws, and under the
l gray mustache the under lip protruded
like the lips of certain Spanish cavaliers
painted by Velasquez.
prognathous, thought M. Ginory,
as he noticed this characteristic. With
a gesture he motioned M. Dantln to a
chair. The man was there before the
ludge, who, with crossed hands, his el
bows leaning on his papers, seemed
ready to talk of Insignificant things
while the registrar's bald head was
bent over hts black table as he rapidly
took notes. The interview took on a
grave tone, but as between two men
who, meeting in a s&lon, speak of the
morning or of the premiere of the even
ts before, and M. Ginory asked M.
Dantln for some information In regard
to M. Uovere.
"Did you know him intimately?”
“Yes, M. le Juge."
"For how many years?"
"For more than 40. We were com
rades at a school in Bordeaux "
"You are a Bordelais?"
"?-dk,e Uovere. yes," Dantln replied.
Uf late have you seen M. Kovere fre
quently?"
"1 beg your pardon, M. le Juge. but
what do you mean by of late?"
M. Ginory believed that he had dis
covered in this question put by a man
who was himself being interrogated—
a tactic—a means of finding before re
plying time for reflection. He was ac
customed to these maneuvers of the
accused.
"When 1 say of late," he replied "I
mean during the past few weeks or
days which preceded the mi'rf.r-if
that suits you."
"I saw him often—In fact, even oft
ener than formerly."
"Why?”
Jacques Dantin seemed to hesitate.
"I do not know—chance. In Paris one
has Intimate friends; one does not see
them for some months, and suddenly
one sees them again and one meets
them more frequently.”
"Have you ever had any reasons for
the Interruptions in your relations with
M. Rovere when you ceased to see him
as you say?”
“None whatever.”
"Was there between you any sort of
rivalry, any motive for coldness?”
"Any motive, any rivalry? What do
you mean?”
"I do not know,” said the great man;
"I ask you. I am questioning you.”
The registrar’s pen ran rapidly and
noiselessly over the paper with the
speed of a bird on the wing.
These words, "I am questioning you,”
seemed to make an unexpected dis
agreeable impression on Dantin, and he
frowned.
"When did you visit Rovere the last
time?”
"The last time?”
"Yes. Strive to remember.”
“Two or three days before the mur
der."
"It was not two or three days; It
was two days exactly before the as
sassination."
“You are right. I beg your pardon."
The examining magistrate waited a
moment, looking the man full In the
face. It seemed to him that a slight
flush passed over his hitherto pale face.
"Do you suspect any one as the mur
derer of Rovere?” asked M. Ginory aft
er a moment's reflection.
"No one,” said Dantin. "I have tried
to think of some one.”
"Had Rovere any enemies?”
"X do not know of any.”
The magistrate swung around by a
detour habitual with him to Jacques
Dantin’s last visit to the murdered man
and begged him to be precise and asked
him if anything had especially struck
him during that last interview with his
friend.
"The Idea of suicide having been im
mediately dropped on the simple exam
ination of the wound, no doubt exists
as to the cause of death. Rovere was
assassinated. By whom? In your last
Interview was there any talk between
you of any uneasiness which he felt In
regard to anything? Was he occupied
with any especial affair? Had he—some
times one has presentiments—any pre
sentiment of an Impending evil, that he
was running any danger?”
"No,” Dantin replied. “Rovere made
no allusion to me of any peril which he
feared. I have asked myself who could,
have any interest In his death. One
might have done the deed for plunder.”
"That seems very probable to me,”
said the magistrate, "but the examina- 1
tion made In the apartment proves that
not a thing had been touched. Theft
was not the motive."
"Then?" asked Dantin.
The sanguine fact of the magistrate,
that robust visage, with its massive
Jaws, lighted up with a sort of ironical
expression.
"Then we are here to search for the
truth and to find it.” In this response,
made in a mocking tone, the registrar,
who knew every varying shade of tone
In his chief's voice, raised his head, for.
In this tone he detected a menace.
“Will you tell me all that passed in
that last interview?”
"Nothing whatever which could in
any way put Justice on the track of the
criminal."
"But yet can you, or rather I should
say ought you, not to relate to me all
that was said or done? The slightest
circumstance might enlighten us.”
“Rovere spoke to me of private af
fairs," Dantin replied, but quickly add
ed. "They were insignificant things.”
“What are Insignificant tnings?”
“Remembrances—family matters.”
"Family things are not insignificant,
above all In a case like this. Had Ro
vere any family? No relative assisted
at the obsequies.”
Jacques Dantin seemed troubled, un
nerved rather, and this time it was
plainly visible. He replied in a short
tone, which was almost brusque:
“He talked of the past.”
"What past?” asked the Judge quick
ly
“Of his youth—of moral debts.”
M. Ginory turned around in his chair,
leaned back and said in a caustic tone
"Truly, monsieur, you certainly ought
to complete your information and not
make an enigma of your deposition. I'
do not understand this useless reticence
and moral debts, to use your words.
They are only to gain time. What,
then, w-as M. Rovere's past?”
Dantin hesitated a moment—not very
long. Then he firmly said, "That, M.
le Juge, Is a secret confided to me by
my friend, and as it has nothing to do
with this matter I ask you to refrain
from questioning me about it."
"I beg your pardon,” the magistrate
replied. “There is not, there cannot be,
a secret for an examining magistrate!
In Rovere's Interests, whose memory
ought to have public vindication—yes,
In his interests, and I ought to say also
In your own—It is necessary that you
should state explicitly what you have
Just alluded to. You tell me that there
is a secret. I wish to know it.”
“It Is the confidence of a dead per
son, monsieur." Dantin replied in
vibrating tones.
'There are no confidences when Jus
tice Is In the balance.”
"But It Is also the secret of a living
person,” said Jacques Dantin.
"Is It yourself of whom you speak?”
He gazed keenly at the face, now tor
tured and contracted.
Dantin replied. "No, I do not speak
of myself, but of nnother.”
"That other—who Is he?”
“It Is Impossible to tell you.”
"Impossible?"
"I will repeat to you my first ques
tion—why?"
"Because I have sworn on my honor
to reveal It to no one.”
“Ah, ah!” said Glnory mockingly.
"It was a vow? That Is perfect.”
"Yes, M. le Juge; It was a vow."
“A vow made to whom?”
“To Kovere.”
"Who Is no longer here to release
you from It, I understand.”
“And,” asked Dantin, with a vehe
mence which made the registrar’s thin
hand tremble as it f.ew over the paper,
"what do you understand?”
"Pardon,” said M. Glnory. "You
are not here to put questions, but to
answer those which are asked you. It
is certain that a vow which binds the
holder of a secret is a means of de
fense, but the accused have, by making
common use of it. rendered it useless."
The magistrate noticed the almost
menacing frown with which Dantin
looked at him at the words “the ac
cused.”
“The accused?” said the man. turn
ing In his chair. “Am I one of the ac
cused?" His voice was strident, almost
strangled.
"I do not know that,” said M. Glnory
in a very calm tone. “1 say that you
wish to keep your secret, and It Is a
claim which I do not admit.”
"I repeat, M. le Juge, that the secret
is not mine.”
"It Is no longer a secret which can
remain sacred here. A murder has
been committed, a murderer is to be
found, and everything you know you
ought to reveal to Justice.”
“But if I give you my word of honor
that it has not the slightest bearing on
tile matter—with the death of Rovere?"
"1 shall tell my registrar to write
your very words in reply. He has done
it. I shall continue to question you,
precisely because you speak to me of
a secret which has been confided to you
and which you refuse to disclose to me.
Because you do refuse.”
"Absolutely.”
“In spite of what I have said to you?
It is a warning. You know it well.”
“In spite of your warning."
"Take care,” M. Ginory softly said.
His angry face had lost its wonted ami
blltty. The registrar quickly raised his
head. He felt that a decisive moment
had come. The examining magistrate
looked directly into Dantin’s eyes and
slowly said: "You remember that you
were seen by the portress at the mo
ment when Rovere, standing with you
in front of his open safe, showed you
some valuables?"
Dantin waited a moment before he
replied, as if measuring these words and
searching to find out just what M.
Ginory was driving at. This sl'ence,
short and momentous, was dramatic.
The magistrate knew it well—that mo
ment of agony when the question seems
like a cord, like a lasso suddenly
thrown and tightening around one’s
neck. There was always in his exam
ination a tragic moment.
"I remember very well that I saw a
person whom I did not know enter the
room where I was with M. Rovere."
Jacques Dantin replied at last.
“A person whom you did not know?
You knew her very well, since you
had more than once asked her if M.
Rovere was at home. That person is
Mme. Moniche, who has made her depo
sition."
Ana what did she say in her depo
sition?”
The magistrate took a paper from the
table in front of him and read: “When
I entered, M. Rovere was standing be
fore his safe, and I noticed that the in
dividual of whom I spoke (the indi
vidual is you) east upon the coupons
a look which made me cold. I thought
to myself, ‘This man looks as if he is
meditating some bad deed.’ "
"That is to say,” brusquely said Dan
tin, who had listened with frowning
brows and with an angry expression,
"that Mme. Moniche accuses me of
having murdered M. Rovere.”
“You are in too much haste. Mme.
Moniche has not said that precisely. 1
She was only surprised—surprised and
frightened—at your expression as you
looked at the deeds, bills and cou- I
pons.”
“Those coupons,” asked Dantln ■
rather anxiously—“have they, then, i
been stolen?”
“Ah, that we know nothing about!”
And the magistrate smiled. “One has !
found in Rovere’s safe in the neighbor
hood of 460,000 francs in coupons, city
of Paris bonds, shares in mining so
cieties, rent rolls, but nothing to prove
that there was before the assassination
more than that sum.”
"Had it been forced open?”
“No; but any one familiar with the
dead man, a friend who knew the se
cret of the combination of the safe, the
four letters forming the word could
have opened it without trouble.”
Among these words Dantln hear&
one which struck him full in the face
—“friend.” M. Ginory had pronounced
it in an ordinary tone, but Dantln had
seized and read in it a menace. For a i
moment the man who was being ques
tinned felt a peculiar sensation. It '
seemed to him one day when he had
been almost drowned during a boating
party that same agony had seized
him; it seemed that he had fallen into )
some abyss, some ley pool, which was '
paralyzing him. Opposite to him the
examining magistrate experienced a
contrary feeling. The caster of a hook
and line feels a similar sensation, but
it was intensified a hundred times in
the magistrate, a fisher of truth, throw
ing the line into a human sea, the
water polluted, red with blood and
mixed with mud.
A friend! A friend could have
abused the dead man’s secret and
opened that safe. And that friend— 1
what name did he bear? Whom did !
M. Ginory wish to designate? Dantln,
in spite of his sang froid, experienced
a violent temptation to ask the man
what he meant by those words. But
the strange sensation which, this in
terview caused him Increased. It seem
ed to him that he had been there a
long time—a very long time since he
had crossed that threshhold—and that
this little room, separated from the
world like a monk's cel®, had walls
thick enough to prevent any one from
hearing anything outside. He felt as
if hypnotized by that man, who at
first had met him with a pleasant air,
and who now bent upon him those
hard eyes. Something doubtful, like
vague danger, surrounded him, men
aced him, and he mechanically followed
the gesture which M. Ginory made as
he touched the ivory buttons of an
electric bell as if on this gesture de
pended some event of his life. A guard
entered. M. Ginory said to him in a
short tone: "Have the notes been
brought?"
“M. Bernardet has Just brought them
to me, M. le Juge.”
(Continued Next Week.)
A Japanese Banking Epieode.
From the Chicago Evening Poet.
"After fruitless efforts to obtain pay
ment,” says the Shanghai News In all
seriousness, “a committee representing
about 17.000 depositors of the Chlyoda
Bank of Japan has sent a written re
quest to Viscount Horl, president of the
institution, asking him to commit hara
kiri as an act of expiation."
Did an old or a new civilization ever
more fantastically meet? Here the whim
sically grave contrasts are infinitely more
picturesque than the mere anarchronisms
of the Mecca trolley car pilgrimages or
the phonograph concerts In the sultan's
seraglio.
We do not know how the Japanese hara
kiri statute runs, but we should think
that Viscount Horl would get an order of
court before complying with the deposit
ors' request. Although this would prob
ably be only a formality, a man In his
position cannot be too careful about such
iitiie things.
An Explanation.
From Harper's Weekly.
“How long has this restaurant been
open?” asked the woutdbe diner.
"Two years,” said the proprietor.
“I am sorry I did not know It,” said
the guest. “I should be better off If I
bad come here then."
“Yes?” smiled the proprietor, very
much pleased. “How Is that?”
"I should probably have been served
by this time If I had.” s^id the guest,
and the entente cordlale vanished.
Nothing to It.
"Oh, see the sign In the window,” said
Mrs. Shopper. "It says they are selling
women's $40 suits for $7.98."
"I never did believe In signs," said Mr.
Shopper, pulling hla wife’s arm In an
effort to get her away from it.
Muzzles doubtless worry dogs; but look
at the manner In which the human race
has grown accustomed to suspenders and
stiff collars.—Washington Star.
EXCELLENT RECIPES
FOR THE HOLIDAYS
How to Have Mince Pie and
Other Things “Like Mother
Used to Make.”
The holidays are drawing near, and
^it is none too soon for the housewife to
be planning her dinner and her table
'decorations.
Hero are some old New England
recipes for good things ‘‘like mother
UQPlT frt mflUo ’*
'Nothing is so delicious as mince pie,
if well made, and Christine Terhune
Herrick's rule for mince meat is excel
lent.
MINCE MEAT.
Chop fine two pounds of cold boiled
lean beef, and mince to a powder a pound
kyf beef kidney suet, sprinkling it with
flour if it seems disposed to stick. Seed
and cut in half two pounds of raisins, and
wash and pick over carefully a pound of
sultana raisins and two pounds of
cleansed currants. Be sure they are free
from grit and dirt before you let them
out of your hands. Peel and chop five
pounds of apples, and shred three-quar
ters of a pound of citron. Mix these all
together, with two tablespoonfuls each of
mace and cinnamon, a tablespoonful of
allspice and cloves, a tablespoonful of
grated nutmeg, two and a half pounds
of brown sugar and a tablespoonful of
salt. Put with them a quart of sherry
and a pint of brandy and pack in a stone
crock. If you do not use either of these
liquors put cider in Its place. The mince
meat should mellow' for a week at least,
or, better, two or three, before it is used.
SCALLOPED ONIONS.
Boll six or eight onions until tender,
changing the water once. Separate them
with a fork and arrange In layers in a
buttered earthen dish, alternating the lay
and pepper fallsplce lw mano© ojfl'gl
ers with buttered bread crumbs. Season
with salt and pepper, pour over the whole
enough rich milk to nearly cover, spread
with melted butter and brown In a mod
erate oven.—Good Housekeeping.
“PUN KIN PIE."
The modern pumpkin pie may be de
scribed as a squash custard, baked in a
jshell. For the old-time smooth, richly
compounded and substantial delicacy that
Whittier celebrated, try the fallowing
recipe: One quart of rich creamy milk,
one pint of sifted pumpkin, one egg, two
tablespoonful* of flour, one cup of sugar,
one teaspoon of ginger, one-half teaspoon
■of salt. Choose a hard shelled, yellow
fleshed pumpkin, remove the seeds and
stringy portion, cut in two inch piece*
and steam until thoroughly tender; put it
through a colander or press, add the other
/ingredients and sift a second time: All
jtwo or three deep crusts (three if moder
ate size), sift a little sugar and grate a
trifle of nutmeg over each and bake in
a moderate oven until Arm tO‘ the center.
—Good Housekeeping.
8ALTED ALMONDS.
Cover the almonds with luke warm
water and heat quickly to the boiling
point: drain and cover with cold water,
then press each nut, one by one, between
Ithe thumb and Anger, to slip off the skin;
bow dry the nuts on a cloth. Dip th*
tips of fingers of the right hand into un
beaten white of egg, and repeatedly take
up and drop a few nuts, until they are
all well coated with egg. Continue until
all the nuts are coated with egg, then
dredge them with salt; mix thoroughly
and let brown delicately in the oven.—
Boston Cooking School Magasine.
1g rmij
PLUM PUDDING.
A novel way to serve a plum pudding
mixture Is *o steam it In small Individual
molds. When each little mound is dished,
trim porcupine fashion with browned
almonds, cut In strips; pour over a tea
spoon of brandy, light, and send In ablaze.
Or. put a star of hard sauce—made with
maple sugar—on top of each serving, and
■pass a sauce made of lemonade, adding a
flavor of orange juice and rind. Thicken
with a very little butter, and flour. At
your discretion add some old rum or a
!few glace cherries.—Good Housekeeping.
BOAST TURKEY'.
Wash the turkey out with cold water to
.which you have added a little soda. Neg
lect of this precaution often gives a strong
Jaste to the stuffing. Make a chestnut
dressing by boiling one quart of the large
Italian or French chestnuts, shelling and
peeling them and mashing them smooth.
Rub Into them a couple of tablespoomuls
of butter, season to tasto with salt and
pepper and stuff the turkey with this as
you would with any other dressing. When
It Is In the bird, sew up the body and tie
the skin covering the craw opening se
curely, so that the dressing will not oozo
out. It is well to cover the breast of the
'fowl with slices of fat salt pork. Put
into the pan, turn over It a cover or a
pan, pour over it and around it a cup of
boiling water, and roast 15 minutes to the
pound; baste several times with the gravy
in the pan. For the gravy take out the
■turkey and keep it hot, while to the liquid
left In the pan you add a tablespoonful of
browned flour wet up In a little cold wa
ter, salt and pepper to taste, and the gib
lets, which you should have boiled sep
arately. Stir all well together and If not
;of a good color add a little caramel or
kitchen bouquet. Boll up for a minute and
:put Into a gravy dish.—Delineator.
SCALLOPED OYSTERS.
Drain the oysters, arrange them in ths
bottom of a buttered pudding dish and
strew over them fine bread crumbs.
Sprinkle with pepper and salt and dot with
bits of butter. Wet with a little oyster
'liquor. On this put another layer of oys
ters, similarly seasoned, then more crumbs
■more seasoning, and so proceed In alter
nate layers until the dish Is full. The last
layer should be of crumbs, and the amount
of butter on this must be twice as much
as on the previous layers. Bake, covered,
’for half an hour.—Delineator.
Upper Circle Gossip.
When Jupiter and Venus met In autumn’s
azure sky.
He wondered If she'd pause to say a word
In passing by;
But Venus, very modest, only tossed her
pretty head,
As glancing back she sailed away. "By
Jove" was all she said.
—Philadelphia Ledger.
Miss Ruth N. Northrop, of Norwich.
Conn., has won the scholarship offered
by the Norwich Art Students’ associa
tion. The work she submitted consist
ed of three groups of animals and fig
ures modeled In clay from life.
Partnership foi mutual advantage
was observed on Friday afternoon,
when two one-legged men went Into
a Broadway automatic shoe-shining
shop and each had his one shoe shined
for the same nickel dropped In the slot.
Farm laborers in the south, paid by
the month or year and fed and sup
ported by the landowner, receive 35
and 40 cents a day during working
season.
■mss.
•SOPHIA
1KITTLE5EN,
HEALTH VERY POOR—
RESTORED BY PE-RU-NX
Catarrh Twenty-five Years—
Had a Bad Cough.
Miss Sophia ICittlesen, Evanston, Ilh.)
, writes:
“I have been troubled with catarrh1
for nearly twenty-five years and hay*
tried many cures for it, but obtained
Very little help.
“Then my brother advised me to try
Peruna, and I did,
“My health was very poor at the tim*
X began taking Peru na. My throat wa*
very sore and I had a bad cough.
“Peruna has cured me. The
chronic catarrh is gone and my
health is very much improved.
“I recommend Peruna to all my
friends who are troubled as X was."
PERUNA TABLETS:—Some p-opl*
prefer tablets, rather than medicine in ts
fluid form. Suoh people can obtain Pera*
na tablets, which represent the medici
nal ingredients of Peruna. Each tablet
equals one average dose of Peruna.
Man-a-Iin the Ideal Laxative.
Ask your Druggist for a Free
Peruna Almanac for 1909.
The- Gathering. Place.
Ufa changes all our thoughts of heaven}
At first we think of streets of gold,
Of gates of pearl and dazling fight.
Of shining wings and robes of white
And things all strange to mortal sight.
But In the aftrward of years
It Is a more familiar place;
A home unhurt by sighs or tears,
Where waiteth many a well known face.
A home waiteth many a well known face.
With passing months it comes more near.
It grows more real day by day;
Not strange nor cold, but very dear—
The glad homeland not far away.
Where none are sick, or poor, or lone,
The place where we shall find our own.
And as we think of all we knew
Who there have met to part'no more.
Our longing hearts desire home, too.
With’ all the strife and' trouble o’er.
—Robert Browning.
How Could He Know..
It would appear that M. toantos Du
mont, the famous aeronaut, had a pret
ty wit. He was once called as a wit
ness in a case concerning a disputed
will,, and during his, cross-examination,
he was much bullied, by a very con
ceited. young lawyer. "Now tell me,"
said the latter, speaking of the da
ceased testator, "was not Mr. K- in,
the habit of talking to himself when
alone?” "I’m sure L don't know,” re
plied Santos-Dumont. “You don’t
know? And you have told the court
that you were an intimate friend of
his. Why don’t you know?” "Be
cause,” replied the aeronaut. “I was
never with him when he was alone. '
^yrupsf'|igs
^LlmitfS eima
Cleanses the System Lffeet
ually; Dispels, Colas aiulueath
aches due to Constipation;
Acts naturally, acts. Indy as
a Laxative.
Best 'forMenVbmen ana Child*
ren-youn gand Old
% ^et its lien
Always buy the-- - p
has me tall name oj the Com
^CALIFORNIA
Jig Syrup Co.
by whom it » manufactured.printed cn tn»
J {rani of every nacluiSe.
SOLD WALL LEADING DRUGGISTS
one size only, regular price 5(H per bottl*.
tomi’i $3.00 and $8.30 ihoei than any
other manufacturer In the world, be
cause they hold their shape, fit better,
and wear longer than any other make*
l thow *t All Prloss .for Every Member of th$ j!
Family, Men, fioye, Women, Misses k Children
\ W.L.DooglM $4.CQ and $5.00 GUt Zige Ehiwi cutset
1m •quailed at any prlob. W. L. Do»*laj $2.50 eiA
$2.00 show are th« b»ct In tiui world
Celor EveleU U*td ifxclusitH**.
«rT»ko No Substitute. W. L. Doajtlss
name end pries Is stamped or. bottom. Sold
everywhere. Shoes mailed from factory to any
part oil he world. Catalogue free. ^
j * u OOIIOLAS. Ut Sp.rlt ft.. Bwdrtw. Mm.