Nebraska Newspapers

    j “You Pay” for I
I Results Onlyl
Dr. Hathaway’s Modern Meth- I
ods Have Proven Successful
M Tli© most discriminating person can H
& '"sligHB And no fault with I>r. Hathaway’s meth
Mp ? iS§jj|BM ods of combating the special and chronic '£%
' discuses of men and women, and were you
BNRi to i00^ the whole world over, you prob- gg
§^7 ably could find no better. Tlie superiority
I /.=§! of his treatment has beeu proyen in many
ft / cases where they have failed to derive
r.::benefit from most all kinds of patent ^g
medicines, family doctors, specialists, ^g
medical companies and institutes, and it
^»o is not worth your while to look elsewhere
WStifinfiSM i* y°u want value received for your ex
1*iJLr: \™iBHpWBB5I penditure of time and money. His treat- H
jjg mentu of KNOWN QUALITY. There Is
j£« no guesswork or pater work about it. The H
Jg^g^ experimental stage passed many years
Hi 4/%' ago, an<A th|a treatment of TO-DAV is H
based upon Indisputable and time proven
|p9 facts. If you are in need of medical treat- H|
.O *sylwY%&-/!f2h± merit at all you can afford the Best, and
\h\ I&t'when you get Dr. Hathaway’s treatment
JjH (J'-TFatfiAftlilWfiv '/////in the beginning, you will save yourself ^g
fjjjp - - '*• much worry ano iv great disappointment. H
Remember, Dr. Hathaway has had over %%$
%!;; 26 years’ experience in the treatment of ^g
SPECIAL DISEASES MCI’LIAR TO MEN AND WOMEN. Fifteen years located ■
:|l§ to Sioux City *, same office ; the very best of professional and financial references. "
r*|| No fake or fraudulent methods employed. Just straight, legitimate practice and - f
;S| a “SQUARE DEAL” to everyone. You will never regret taking Dr. Hathaway’s -0-j
treatment. Consultation and examination free to all. WRITE OR CALL TO-DAY H
fij AND DESCRIBE YOUR CASE.
I DR. HITHIWir & CO., g°gi5ar Slou« City, Iowa I
You Sloop on Your Capable Side.
**rom "An Experimental Study In Sleep."
by Professor Boris Sldls, of Harvard.
Some people go to sleep only on their
back and And it difficult to fall asleep
otherwise, while others who go to sleep
on their side, and who form tho greater
majority, always go to sleep oh the
same side. There are very few who
can fall asleep Indifferently on either
aide. Moreover, my observations have
shown me that by far tho majority of
right handed people go to sleep on tho
right aide, while left handed people go
to sleep on their left side. Home of
the right handed people who go to sleep
on the right side may, nfter some time,
turn to thrlr left to change position,
while others keep on sleeping on the
same side through the whole night.
Tho majority change position. One
case Is specially interesting to quote:
"Up to my seventh year I slept on my
right side and I was right handed. At
about the age of 7 I met with an acci
dent, I was run over by a team and my
right side was Injured so that I could
not use the limbs of tho right side. I
used my left hand only, 1 began to
Bleep on my left side. This I did up to
my 15th year. I then begun to prac
tice with my right hand too, and am
now ambidextrous. I sleep now on
either aide. I use both hands.”
PAINT EVERY YEAR.
KTo One Wants tn Du It, but Some
Paint Will Wear Sio I,anger.
When you hnve a Job of puluttng
done, you don't expect to have It done
over again very soon. But to make a
lasting Job, several things must be
taken Into consideration—the proper
time to palut—the condition of the
surfai’e—the kind of materials to use,
•to. All these mutters are fully cov
ered In the specifications, which can
be had free by writing National Lead
Company. 1902 Trinity Building, New
York, and asking for Houseowner's
Painting Outfit No. 41). The Outfit also
Includes a book of color schemes for
both Interior and exterior patntlng,
• nd a simple Instrument for detecting
•dulteratlon In the palut materials.
The outfit will solve many painting
problems for every house-owner.
Meantime when buying paint see that
•very white lead keg bears the famous
Dutch Boy Paluter trademark, which
Is an absolute guarantee of purity and
quality. If your paint denier cannot
supply you National Lead Company
will see that some one else will.
) Baba Holds Up a Train.
! From the Buffalo News.
A 8-year-old boy held up a passenger
train on the Erie railroad, near Belle
ville. N J., the other day. The lad, a
■on of Antonio Steffanelli, had wan
dered away from home and was walk
ing along the tracks dragging a bat
tered tin horse, when the engine ap
proached In the opposite direction.
The engineer blew his whistle, hut
the child kept on between the rails.
Several times again the whistle was
blown, but without result. Then the
engineer brought the train to a stop, ;
got down from his cal) and carried the
child to one side. The little fellow
fought against his removal.
Divinity Candy.
From the I,os Angeles Times.
One pint golden drip syrup, one pint
of sweet milk, one cup of granulated i
■ ugar; butter the sl/.e of a walnut.
Boll until a soft ball may be made. !
Remove from the fire and whip until
it Is creamy, then pour It over one
half pound of shelled California Eng
lish walnuts.
A NOTRE DAME LADY'S APPEAL
To all knowing sufferers of rheumatism,
whether muscular or of the Joints, i^clatlca.
lumbago*, backache, pains In the kidneys
or neuralgia pains, to write to her for a
home treatment which has repeatedly cured
•11 of these torture*. She feel* It her duty !
to send It to all sufferers FREE. You cure ,
yourself at home as thousands will testify
•o change of climate being necessary. This
•lmple discovery banishes urjc acid from
the blood, loosen* the stiffened Joint*, puri
fies the blood, and brighten* the eyes, giving
•laaticlty and ton*' to the whole system. If
the above Interest* you. for proof address
Mr*. M. Summer*. Box 3, Notre Dame, Ind.
SELECTED Canadian lands in large and
small blocks. Four years’ Canadian ex
perience. Glad to answer Inquiries. A.
K. Ran. UXS American National Bank
Bldg . St Paul. Minn.
This Trade-mark
Eliminates All
Uncertainty
In the purchase of
paint materials.
It is an absolute
guarantee of pur
ity and quality.
For your own
protection, see
it is on the side of
every keg of white lead
you buy.
NATIONAL LEAD COMMIT
_IDO! Trinity DulHI«|, »w tut
BIG TASK OF REFORESTATION."
The Department of Agirculture Has 5
Million Acres to Plant in Trees.
James Wilson, Secretary of Agriculture,
In Suburban ljfe for April.
The question Is how to get tree seeds
to grow, particularly out west In the
forest ranges. We have 168 million
acres now. I,ast summer I went out
west among the trees, as I had done
for several summers. A nice question
has been In*our minds, how to get re
forestation done. Of course you can
plant seeds in a bed and then take
them up with a spade and set them
out where you want them set. and all
that. If tho department of agriculture
had all the army and all the navy they
could never get It done In time. We
have probably 5 million acres to plant.
Wo ought to he reforestatlng 250,
000 acres a year think of that! You
can never do that with a spade In tho
world; you could never get It done. Na
ture should be followed along those I
lines.
I recollect tho first time I went out
there and discussed this proposition |
with some of the people there. If I ■
were wanting to get a field to grow I
grass thut had no grass on )t. I would '
sow the grass seed on the last snows
In the spring, and the seed would sink
down into the soil and would be moist
ened and would germinate before tho
moisture from the spring rains and
snows affected deleterlously the roots.
That Js the way We get pastures more
quickly. Sow the seeds In the last
snows In the spring and you will attain
that result. "I wish you would try
that with regard to reforestation,” I
said to them (I was thon In tho Black
Hills, speaking to some of our forest
people). They said they would try It.
1 advised them to get their seed In
ample quantity in the fall, take an
80-acre tract In the spring and sow
on tho last snows, I was out there
last summer again. It was three years
since I had been there and made the
suggestion and they had carried out
that suggestion. I drove 85 miles to
see that 80-acro tract. It seemed to me
that every seed had grown, and that
was a mile above tho level of the sea.
Entirely Trustworthy.
From the Chicago Tribune.
"Marla, I'm going to have Dr. Squllllps
treat me for my heart trouble.”
"VVliat do you know about Dr. Squllllps,
John?"
"All I know about him Is that Mr. Got
sum recommends him to me."
"Who Is Mr. Ootsum?"
"Mr. Gotsum Is one of tho stokhotders
of tho life Insurance company that Is
carrying a $20,000 risk on my life.”
Seattle set a good example In Its plan
ning of the Alaska-Yukon-Faclfle ex
position, which Is to be held during the
coming summer. Instead of tearing
down the buildings after the big show
Is over, and undoing the costly topo
graphical work, $600,000 worth of tho
buildings will be turned over to the
University of Washington, together
with the water, lighting and sewerage
systems.
Deafness Cannot be Cured
by local applications, as they cannot reach
the diseased portion of the ear. There is
only one way to cure deafness, and that Is
by constitutional remedies. Deafness Is
caused by an intlamed condition of the mu
cous lining of the Eustachian Tube. When
this tube is Inflamed you have a rumbling
eound or Imperfect hearing, and when It is
entirely closed, Deafness Is the result, and
unless the Inflammation can be taken out
and this tube restored to Its normal condi
tion. hearing will be destroyed forever ; nine
cases out of ten are caused by Catarrh,
which Is nothing but an Inflamed condition
of the mucous surfaces.
We will give One Hundred Dollars for any
case of Deafness (caused by Catarrh) that
cannot be cured by Hall’s Catarrh Cure.
8eud for circulars, free.
F. J. CHENEY & CO., Toledo. O.
Sold by Druggists, 70c.
Take Hall s Family Pills for constipation.
He Was a Chronic Grouch.
From the Philadelphia Evening Telegraph.
At a banquet recently one of the speak
ers told of a man who was a chronic
grouch. Nothing ever suited him, and he
grumbled over the most trivial things.
Once he had to take to his bed with
rheumatism, and notwithstanding the fact
that his wife gave him every care ho
growled at her incessantly, which caused
the good lady's tears to flow'.
“How are you getting along, Jake?"
asked a friend who called one afternoon.
"I am getting worse and worse," com
plained Jake, "and It is all my wife's
fault."
"You surprise me," said the caller. "She
seems one of the most devoted nurses I
ever saw.”
"You don’t know her," returned the
rheumatic. "The doctor says that a damp
room Is the very worst thing for me. and
that woman cornea in here and weeps, just
to make their air damp."
Evening Dresses of Taffeta Silk.
From the May Delineator.
TafTeta silk is back again after many
months of enforced retirement. It Is
used for evening dresses, in the new
draped gowns with their overskirts or
panniers. In the pale greens and blues I
and buffs printed In pompadour effects j
; they are really very pretty, and women
will begin to consider them seriously I
in the fall. Just now they seem a lit
re warm and heavy as we look forward i
to the summer months.
Nearly 120,000 in rants under a year
<»!<i die every year In England. Only
100.000 of these are victims of the
, ignorance and carelessness of their
■ mothers.
I
The House of the Black
By F. L. Pattec Ring Copyright, 1905 I
CHAPTER VIII—Continued.
•'Too bad; too bad; too bad,” he was
saying. "I warned him. He brought
It on his own self." Then suddenly
•he started for the door. No one spoke
'or dlsturbled the silence, nor was there
A sound In the storo until tho “clunk
plunk” of the old wagon had died away
(In the distance.
; Amos and Dan walked rapidly down
jtho pike. It was a perfect spring
(night. Tho clouds had entirely dis
appeared, leaving the sky brilliant with
stars that scintillated coldly. Low In
tho west, over the ragged scar In the
range, the thin curve of a new moon
lay pointing upward with sharp horns.
Far off In the stillness they could hear
the warning growl of Roaring Run, but
It only made the silence more complete.
They said nothing as they strode down
the pike, and they turned Into the Hel
ler’s Gap road without a word. The
awful warnings of Poppy Miller were
echoing In Dan’s ehrs; ho was walking
like a man In a dream.
A dim light burned In tho Farthing
kitchen, but they heard no sound, save
(he rattling movements of some
creature In the bam. Then they struck
Into the old lane to the cabin.
The world still wore the fantastic
garments of the morning, though much
|if the snow had dropped from the trees
luring the day. It was a weird, silent
(cene, and both of tho men were im
pressed by It. The great shadow of the
(ap was over them; the walls on either
|!do loomed up like ghostly columns as
| they saw them In the uncertain light.
"Darn creepy place,” observed Dan
I it length.
"Huh!” sniffed Amos, striding on
ttoutly In the lead.
Then they came In sight of the cabin,
did stopped a moment to reconnolter.
fho old house loomed up black arid
lepulchral amid the scrubs. A livid
ling, unnaturally distinct, surrounded
[t. Dan called his companion's atten
tion to It, but Amos only grunted.
“Come ahead, Dan,” he said gruffly.
They strode rapidly to the edge of
the snow Hue, then both stopped In
stantly as If they had run into
»n Invisible wire. There was a light In
the cabin, but one so diffused and In
distinct that It was Impossible to see
Anything within. Dan Tressler turned
In a panic, nnd was on the point of
fleeing, but Amos gripped him by the
K.rm.
Brace up. Dan, he hissed In his
Bar. "We're going to see this out if It
takes a leg. You stay right here; I'm
going to find out how many’s in there.”
He started out cautiously In a circle
around tho cabin, veiling his lantern
with his coat and examining the snow
with extreme care. At length he came
around to where he had started.
“Say, Dan,” he said with a trace of
excitement In his voice, “there lialn’t a
living soul moved in or out of there
since tho snow.”
"Good lord!” gasped Dan. "Say, Je’s
make a rush and touch the old slianty
and run.” His nerves were rapidly
getting beyond his control.
"Not by a long chalk! They prob
ably went in there before the snow
came the other night. You wait a min
ute. I’m going to look In.”
He crept nearer. Then there came
from within a shrill laugh, fearfully
startling In its weird distinctness. In
voluntarily Dan gave a nervous cry,
and on the Instant they saw a face at
the window, a face strangely white
and thin, with a framing of hair that
even in that uncertain light showed up
inky black. Instantly there echoed
from within a shriek so ghastly that It
shook the nerves even of Amos Hard
ing. It was a shrill falsetto, seemingly
feminine. He dropped his lantern, so
suddenly did it ring out and so fright
ful. But his panic was only for an In
stant.
"Some of them Farthin's are in there,
trying to scare us,” he shouted. “Here,
I’m coming in! You can’t scare me!
You've got tho wrong man, I’ll tell yeh
that! Here, open up!” A sudden fury
seemed to have seized him. “Open up!
Open there!” he yelled. Then he ran
against tho door full tilt, but it did not
yield.
A livid stream of curses in what
seemed to bo an old man’s cracked
voice followed. Amos took a back
step, and hesitated. Then a recollec
tion of the group in the store came
upon him, and ho faced the cabin
again.
"Come on, Dan. It’s only the Far
thin’s trying to scare us. Stand by me.
Dan." he shouted. "Get a stone. I’m
goin’ to stave in the old door.” Dan
took one step and stopped short; but
for Amos he would have turned and
fled for his life.
For another scream came from the
interior, a scream that must Dive come
from a woman’s throat, and yet no liv
ing woman’s; then a flash of light, in
tense and blinding, filtering through
the crannies like red fire. For the
space of a minute it bathed the scene
in a lurid hell red. Even Amos felt his
hair creeping, but his blood was up and
he would not have turned back now
even If the devil himself had confront
ed him.
The bright light showed him a Jagged
piece of limestone at his feet within
the dead line. He seized It and began
to batter the door. It held out strong
ly; he threw all of his strength Into
the work. Then the cabin became ut
terly dark; it was deathly still now;
but he battered on. The bar began to
give way; a couple of blows more and
the door swung wide open.
But Amos did not enter.
He held up his lantern and peered
within with quivering Interest. Noth
ing was in sight; nothing moved; but
there was a thick smudge of smoke and
a ghastly stench of sulphur. He stood
still and listened. No sound save far
behind him tho gurgle of Roaring Run,
like the rattle in the throat of u dying
man.
"Come on, Dan,” he ordered excited
ly. It was too late to back out now.
"I’m going right in there hell bent,
darned if I ain’t. Come on. Don’t go
back on me, old man.” Dan was no
longer master of himself. He moved as
In a stupor; the strong will of the
other man dominated him. Ho hesitat
ed, then took a faltering step toward
the door. Amos was out of sight.
"Hey, Amos! Where be yeh?” he
quavered. He caught a choking breath
of the sulphur reek and his knees well
nigh gave way beneath him.
"Here! This way, quick!” he heard
Amos calling. Blindly and automatic
ally he rushed in. He found Amos, the
stone still In his hand, looking about
him warily. The cabin, as they saw it
By the light of the lantern, was fur
nished apparently as the last occupant
had left it years ago. There were two
rooms, and In the larger were a be
draggled sofa, several kitchen chairs, a
cupboard, and a few smaller pieces of
fqrnlture. In the kitchen was a stovrf
which gave evidences of having been
lately used. There were cooking uten
sils scattered about. Both rooms were
utterly deserted.
"Here, they’re upstairs," Amos yelled.
"Here, you, come down.” After a mo
inent he sprang up the rickety stair
way, but the rooms were empty
"Then they’re in the cellar!" The
door was standing ajar,
; "Come on,” he shouted. "They're not
goln’ to fool me. I ain’t goln’ to back
out now, darned If I am. Here!" he
shouted down the stairway. "Come up
and show yourselves, or we’ll go down.
There’s a whole gang of us up here, so
you don’t stand no show. Who are
yeh?”
No answer.
"All right; here goes!” Amos had
his blood up.
"Don’t go, Amos; for God’s sake,
don't. It’s an aw-w-w-wful hole down
there.”
"Come along!” he shouted as if in
anger, and Dan automatically followed
the lantern: better down In the cellar
with the light than above without it.
There was no one In the cellar.
They stood In speechless amazement,
a shudder of superstitious horror be
ginning to creep over even Amos.
“They’re hid,” he cried, though the
Idea was not very plausible. They be
gan a systematic search. They even
prodded the limestone walls for a hid
den exit.
There was no one In the cellar.
They went at length up the stairs
again, and searched with minute care
through the two rooms and the cham
bers above. There was no secret hid
ing place—the cabin was deserted.
There could be no doubt of It. Amos
stood a moment In blank amazement;
then a sudden thought struck him.
“Here I have It. They skinned out
the back way while he was upstairs—
that’s Jest what they done. Hold on
a minute; let me look for tracks.” With
Dan at his heels he circled the cabin
again.
No one had left the house. The crea
tures, whoever they might be, were
still In the cabin.
“Wal—I'll—be dum—buzzled!"
"Come, le’s go," pleaded Dan In a
convulsive whisper. "Le’s get out o’
here. Oh, Lord! Jest look at that!”
He pointed with shaking hand at the
livid ring around the cabin, which
seemed to glow and waver with a sort
of phosphorescent light.
"For God's sake, le’s run. Amos,
while we can!” Ho was on the verge
of nervous collapse, looking around him
fearfully as if something were closo
behind him and peering over his shoul
der.
"Not till I’ve fired this hell-hole!"
There was a ring In the man’s voice
that held Dan Involuntarily. "Hold the
lantern here till I get some kindling
wood.” Amos broke up a chair and
ripped open the tick of an old lounge.
Then he arranged the straw with the
wood above It.
"Wish I had a can of coal-oil. But
I guess this ’ll go.” He struck a match,
but the straw was damp. He tried an
other and It failed.
“Hold on; I’ve got a paper here In my
pocket.” He drew out a newspaper
which he had received In the evening's
mall, opened It, crumpled the sheets to
gether, and arranged It under the
straw.
“Say, I’m going to slop a little of the
oil out o’ this lantern.” He unscrewed
the little filler, and carefully saturated
the paper and straw without extin
guishing the light. Then he scratched
another match.
"What 're doing here?” growled a
voice at the door.
Both Jumped as if the last trump had
sounded In their ears. Dan Tressler let
out a yell that vied even with those of
a few moments earlier. They turned
and saw Allen Farthing.
“What's going on here?” he demand
ed. "What are you doing?"
“I’m going to fire this old hell-coop;
that's Jest what I’m goln' to do." Amos
had dropped his match, but he felt de
liberately In his pocket for another.
"Oh, that’s you, is It, Amos and Dan?
You the ones that's been making all
this yelling?”
"No," spoke up Dan. "This house is
ha'nted. It was the ghosts yellin’.”
"Oh, pshaw! You don’t take any
stock in such nonsense as that, do you
Amos?”
"Stock or no stock, I’m goln’ t<j fire
this old hell-kitchen. That’s Jest what
I’m goln’ to do." He was sheltering
the match-flame with his hands.
"Here! Hold on! This is my prop
erty. Don’t you fire that straw, Amos."
"Reckon I shell.”
"All right; go ahead; but it's a se
rious matter to burn a man's buildings
against his consent. Do as you please
gentlemen. But you'll pay the penalty
If you do.” He disappeared In a twink
ling In the darkness. Amos dropped his
match and gave a whistle of astonish
ment.
"Wal—by—gum!” Ho seized the lan
tern and went out quickly. A1 Farth
ing had disappeared as if Into the air.
For a moment they looked bewilderedly
about them, then they started down the
road without a word. Once only before
they reached the store did Amos open
his lips:
“W al—I' 11—be—d um—buzzled! ’ ’
CHAPTER IX.
THE FIRE ON CHERRY CREEK.
The "saplin'-bender” was followed by
a week of perfect weather. It was un
seasonably warm. The yellow mud.
half-spoke-deep on the back roads, be
gan to harden Into brick like welts and
ragged pits and ruts; the wheat fields
had emerged from the snow a livid
green, most Intense as viewed against
the dun corn lands, and the usual
spring fires, the bane of the Seven
Mountains, were beginning to creep
here and there on the ridges and to
throw over the landscape a gauze of
smoko that blurred all outlines.
It was Sunday afternoon, and a sil
ence like that of the Indian summer
lay on the valley. The sun, a rim of
old brass, hung lustrelessly over the
smudge that was Roaring Run, and a
cozy twilight was creeping on, even
with the sun full in sight.
Whether it was the spring day, or
whether it was the memory of the Sab
bath before when he had tried his best
to propose and had been managed out
of It, something, it was evident, had
stirred Karl Keichllne mightily. As ho
had ridden up the Run that morning
there had been desperation in his heart.
He would settle it before he ever
went back again. Ho had tried
the gradual approach long enough; he
would be abrupt now and stormy. He
would make a sudden dash, and de
mand yes or no without alternative.
The day, however, had passed without
progress. She had not evaded him;
on the contrary, she had been with him
even more than usual; but somehow
there had been no chance. It had not
seemed her fault. There had been sud
den accidents and interruptions and in
trusions until it had seemed as if fate
Itself were against him. And all day
the fever in his heart had burned high
er. He had never seen her so Joyous
and irresistible, and sweetly feminine;
she had awed him, and thrilled him,
and captivated him until he was intoxi
cated and helpless.
But every man has his chance.
Suddenly he saw Rose make a dash*
across the garden toward the cherry
trees. Her cat had caught a robin.
"Here, Dick! Here, here, here!” she
was calling excitedly. He leaped from
the porcli and together they succeeded
In cornering the cat In a nook beyond
the trees. It made an attempt to get
through the chtcken-wlre fence, then
dropped the bird and dashed by them.
The robin lay still a moment, but as
they approached, It fluttered Into a
shrub.
“Oh, do you think It's hurt?” she
asked eagerly.
“Not a bit. It’s only scared," he re
sponded with conviction.
"But Just see how the poor little
thing shakes. Just see how he’s
rumpled up.” There was a pathetic
quiver In her voice.
"He’s only frightened, that’s all.
He's all right. But Rose”—he changed
his tone abruptly—"I want you to mar
ry me. Will you, Rose?" She gave
him a swift, startled look, then sidled
hastily toward the shrub.
"Oh, see, his wing must be broken.
Just see how it hangs down. Oh, see!”
"No, It isn’t. See him fly? But will
you marry me. Rose? Say, will you?”
He came close to her. There was a
tragic, do-or-dle look In his face.
"Oh, my dishes 'll get stone-cold. I
must go right back.” She started oft
decisively, but he kept close to her al
most desperately.
"But your answer—will you marry
me?"
"Why, what a question!”
"Tes or no, will you marry me?” he
repeated doggedly.
"No."
"You don’t mean It, Rose. You can’t.
Say, will you, Rose? You will, won't
you?" He came nearer. Somehow she
had no desire to laugh now; the affair
was becoming dangerous.
"But why? Why Bhould I want to
marry anybody? She looked him full
In the eyes.
In the Dutch belt of Pennsylvania
maidens are taught that their hearts
are shaped very much like a purse,
and that love awakes Its true ecstacy
only at the sight of the substantial
things readily convertible at the county
bank. The rural swain, therefore, sel
dom advances the flimsy logic, “I love
you, and therefore you should wed me,”
but he advances boldly with the more
convincing argument, "T have 50 acres
and $1,000 cash; Is that not enough to
make you my wife?” Thus it was that
Karl Kclchline at the critical moment
began to argue.
"I can make you happy, Rose. I
have-”
"I am happy now. I don’t ask to be
any happier."
“Yes; but think what we can have.
Rose. I’m not poor. I’ll build you a
house that 'll beat anything In this
whole region, and you shall plan and
furnish it. And you shall have the
best horses that money can buy, and
a stable for them that’s right up to
date. 1 can afford it. Rose. Say, will
you?” I
"I’ve got everything I want now. I j
don't ask for another thing better."
“But what about a few years from
now? Your father and mother are get
ting old. Rose.”
"And what of that?” She was look
ing at him sharply,
"I know—but, Rose, you'll need some
body to look after you-”
“Do I look as If I needed somebody
to look after me?" She stood very
straight and tall before him.
“But you surely are not going to live
all alone by yourself your whole life,
Rose?”
“Oh, possibly not. I may marry some
body years and years from now.” She
said it as If she were yielding a great
point.
“It shan’t change your life in the
least, Rose. You may be as free as
you are now—Just as free, and ever
freer. But I want you. Rose; I love :
you. I can’t live without you. And
I want you now.” He was looking Into
her face with an eagerness that waa
almost pathetic.
“I'm sorry,” she said, a little wave
of pity somehow beginning to creep
over her tender heart. “But you know
really I can’t marry anybody—not for j
years and years.”
"Perhaps I’ve been sudden Rose. I
won’t press It Just now. I'll ask you
again next Sunday. You’ll give me youp j
final answer then, won’t you?”
"I’ve answered you now.”
“No, no. You don’t mean that, really. '
You'll think it over and give me the
final yes or no next Sunday. You will,
won’t you, Rose?"
“No."
"Rose!”
"A week Is not a great while," she
said evasively. An image of her father
had come before her—eager and plead
ing. She knew well that It was his
dearest wish to have the marriage at
once. He wanted Karl to help him with
the present spring’s work. The thing
was inevitable after all, and what was !
the use? As well him as any one; yet I
somehow she shrank. “You may ask
me In a year—five years,” she added ]
quickly.
“No, no. I want you now. I’ll make [
it two weeks. I Insist on two weeks.”
“You may ask me again on the first
day of June, If you insist upon It, but
not one day earlier.”
"But, Rose-”
“Not a day earlier.”
“But that’s six long weeks. Rose.”
“If you object again, I shall make it
the first of August.” I
“Very well. Then I agree; but,
Rose-” I
(Continued Next Week.)
The Invention of Coinage.
From the Saturday Review.
The Invention of coinage ia due to the
Greeks, most probably the bankers of
Halicarnassos and adjacent Asia Minor
Greek colonies, who toward the end of
the Eighth century B. C. began stamp
ing the small gold and electron Ingots
which passed through their hands as j
currency with a mark of some sort in- !
tended to guarantee the weight and i
purity of the metal; such Ingots very I
soon assumed a round and more regu
lar shape, which we find already in the
older silver coins from Aegina, nearly j
contemporary with the Asia Minor
“beans."
Curious to say, none of the surround
ing peoples with whom the Asiatic and
European Greeks were in constant com
munication, political or comn.erctal,
took up the wonderful inventloi which
at present seems to us of such obvious
necessity that we scarcely realize how
the civilized world of old can ever have
got on without it; as a matter of fact,
however, neither the Phoenicians, with
their practical commercial sense, nor
the Lydians or the Persians, who
claimed the supremacy over the very
cities where the new currency was in
itiated. nor, of course, the Egyptians,
ever had coinage, till the conquests of
Alexander disseminated the Greek civ
ilization all through the Eastern world.
The Romans came to know of it !
through the Greek cities in Sicily and
Magna Graecia. and began striking sli
ver coins toward the beginning of the
third century. B. C. In the meantime,
with the Greeks, die-sinking, like
everything else, had fallen within the
domain of art, and their coins, above all
those struck during the Fifth and
Fourth centuries, B. C„ by the Dorians,
of Sicily, at Syracuse and Agrigentum,
have never been equaled and remain
forever a standard of beauty for the
artist and a model of perfection for the
die-sinker.
A bottle dropped in the gulf Btream as It
leaves the Gulf of Mexico will cross the
‘ Atlantic in about ISO days. i
- —■■■ , *
Ever See a Blonde Indian?
From the New York' Frees.
Bionae Indians are as rare as Indian
blondes, yet there are such. Witnes*
Mrs. B. H. Colbert, of the Indian Terri
tory. She is an Indian—not a full
breed, but .with enough aboriginal
blood in her veins to preserve many of
the traits of the prairie race. And she
Is a blonde of an extreme type. Her
complexion is that of a babe, her eyee
are the brightest of blue, her hair le
the real golden shade. She is proud
of hjr Indian ancestry, much prouder
of it than of her white descent. In
fact, despite her peaches and cream
coloring, she is none too fond of pale
faces. Mrs. Colbert lives In Tisho
mingo, which isn’t as bad as it sound*.
She is a Chickasaw, and is accredited
with exceptional ability.
A memorial has just been erected 1*
Kensington cemetery, London, to the
memory of Admiral Sir Francis Leo
pold McClintock, the Arctic explorer
and discoverer of the lost Franklin ex
pedition. It takes the form of an old
style wheel cross standing on a
massive molded base, reaching to a
height of 10 feet and erected in rough
silver grey Cornish granite.
Next year Memphis will try the com
mission form of government, .which ha*
been so successful at Galveston and
Des Moines.
t—a
FRENCH HORSE BREEDERS
How the Present Huge Percheron Ha»
Been Evolved.
The draught horse Is getting bigger
and bigger. In the late '80s. If on*
weighing over 1,600 pounds came from
France It was an event, and the horse
papers talked about him—with pic
tures. Today the draught Importer will
touch nothing under 1.800 pounds, and
3-year-old colts often run up to a ton
The favorite draught breed In Ajner
lea—6 or 8 to 1—Is the Percheron of
France. He comes from He Perch*
southwest of Paris, and nowhere else
The horse breeders of that dlstrle'
have handed themselves Into a guild,
or union, says Collier's, and decreed
that no hot-se from outside the borders
of their district can ever be recorded
as a Percheron’ In the stud book of the
breed. A colt foaled Just across the
line out of a mare and by a sire cor
rectly registered cannot himself be reg
(stored.
The foundation blood of the Perch
eron is, or is said to be, Arab. The
Frenchman will tell you that a Perch
eron Is an Arab “made heavy’’ by the
climate. But whether Arabian extract
or not, It Is sure that the breed has
been made heavy by the climate or
human selection during the past half
century.
When George Sand wrote the Perch
eron was famous as a road horse, a
traveller, a ground coverer. Her he
roes used to drive hither and thither
“behind four splendid distance eating
Percherons." No modern Frenchman
would dream of driving up to his Nln
ette’s door behind four Percherons.
The Perche peasants are artists,
sculptors, who within the limitations
of their material most wonderfully
fashion Into being their equine Imag
inlngs. It Is much easier and simpler
to carve a horse of the shape you want
on the Parthenon frieze than out In a
Lucerne pasture In the Eure-et-Lolr
district. Dazed by their artistry, the
French minister of agriculture gravely
reports-. “These men of Le Perche are ^
Incrpdlhle! Command from them a ”
horse, they will build you one to your
specifications.”
From the current report of th*»
French horse breeding bureau It K
learned that during the fiscal year 16!.
114 mares were bred to stallions be
lor.glng to the state: 81.207 to approved
stallions, 9.467 to authorized stallions
That Is bureaucratic, isn’t it?—that a.
country should be able to report a thins
like that. And In the archives of the
French government Is the name and
description of each mare In France, to
gether with data about the horse to
which she was bred.
The French never dream of breeding
to stallions of mixed or unknown blood.
But the American farmer who bred his
mare to a Percheron for a heavy colt
usually changes his mind a couple of
years later, puts what he got from the
first cross to a coach horse for style
and the grand result to a Jack for a
mule. As a horse breeder, he doesn't
shine, as M. Vallee de Loncea re
marked. He looks only at the outside
uf a sire (and apparently not so very
carefully at that) and cares little what
kind of blood Is running Inside.
OLD SOAKERS
Get Saturated vrltli Caffeine.
When a person has used coffee for a.
number of years and gradually declined
In health. It Is time the coffee should
be left off In order to see whether or '"J
not that has been the cause of the trou
ble.
A lady In Huntsville, Ala., says she
used coffee for about 40 years, and for
the past 20 years was troubled with
stomach trouble.
“I have been treated by many physi
cians but all tn vain. Everything failed
to perfect a cure. I was prostrated for
lome time, and came near dying. When
I recovered sufficiently to partake of
food and drink I tried coffee again ami
It soured on my stomach.
“I finally concluded coffee was the
cause of my troubles and stopped using
■t. I tried tea and then milk In its
place, but neither agreed with me, then
I commenced using Poetum. I had it
properly made and It was very pleasing
to the taste.
“I have now used It four months, and
health Is so greatly Improved that
I can eat almost anything I want anA
ran sleep well, whereas, before, I suf
fered for years with Insomnia.
i have found the cause of my trou
b.es and a way to get rid of them You
ran depend upon it I appreciate Poet
um."
“There's a Reason." Read “tj,* '
Rond to Wellville," in pkgs. *
Ever read the above letter? A
new one appears from time to time
bunfaif7nterest.ne' “"d ,uU