- - . I
The House of the Black j
Bj F. L Pattee Ring Copyright^SO^^j j
CHAPTER XI—Continued.
"And you’ll know sometime!"
"Lona!" He arose and took a dizzy
•tep toward her.
“Oh, Lona, I-”
"No. no. no—don't!—Come!" She
arose swiftly and turned toward the
path "It's getting darker; we must go
for the water." He followed her
breathlessly. By the creekslde she
paused for an Instant, while he dipped
the buckets; then she turned and ran
Up the path again.
"Come, quick,” she ordered In a pen
etrating whisper. It was as If some
fearful thing were lurking somewhere
In the glen
"Walt!—please, do,” he gasped, after
they had scurried half way up the hill.
"Can’t we stop a minute?" She turned
Instantly and faced him.
"No!—at the flat stone—come!"
Again they hastened up the path. At
the stone he sank down breathless.
The girl wheeled Instantly, and, stand
ing straight and rigid, peered back Into
the Run. She was very near him. How
perfert she was as she stood there In
the twilight—a woman to dream about,
"Fair as a Jonquil, tall as a bride for
the high gods mete.”
"Lona,” he whispered, "what Is It?"
"Nothing.”
"But you're strange. There's some
thing the matter. What Is It down
there, Lona?” He felt like shuddering,
he knew not why. It was as If some
thing we.re hovering over them.
"It’s nothing; It's the evening. Let’s
keep perfectly still. Don’t you hear
It?”
"Hear what?”
“The evening. It’s a • concert.
Hark!”
It was not hard to Imagine. The
evening hymn of the May day was
swelling all about them, but above all,
and dominating It all, was the gibber
of the Run Just below them. There
was something strange about It, some
thing that crept over him more and
more like n premonition of danger; the
gloom of the place, the dark forms of
the cedars, the Imprisoning tangle of
the rhododendron, and the smutches of
black above—the ridges converging Into
the Gap. He began to look about him
almost stealthily. Then he caught a
glimpse of her, and something all In a
flash thrilled him as with fear.
She was looking with wide eyes,
every muscle and nerve In her body
tense, down through the laurel tangle
to where the watera of Roaring Run
break through the Gap. Automatically
he turned in the direction of her gaze,
but he saw nothing.
"Lona, what Is It?"
"It's nothing—come!—quick!” She
dodged with lightning movement as If
some unseen thing had struck at her.
then darted away. One instant and
she was gone.
Scarce realizing what he did, he
sprang after her. He looked eagerly
right and left, behind every cedar and
tangle. She had vanished utterly.
"Lona!” he called In a fearful whis
per* ’T,ona!’’ Then he raised his voice
and sfiouted, "Lona!”
"Hush! Sh-h-h-h-h!” She was right
at his elbow, as If she had risen from
the earth. "Come—quick!”
"But, Lona, what Is It? For God’s
■sake, what’s this all about? Lona!”
"Quick!” she whispered tragically.
"Quick!” She seized his hand as If he
were In danger, and tried to pull him
along
"But, Lona.” he pleaded, the touch of
her hand thrilling him mightily, “what
Is It ?”—I love you-”
"No, no, no! You must go. You
must never come bark. Come—quick!”
There was an Intensity' about the girl’s
words that frightened him.
"Lona—what la It?”
"Go—I command.” She hissed the
words In his very ear. “If you speak,
It’s death. One word and it’s death.
Come.” Her hot breath was In his face.
She was pulling him along ns If In a
pnnlc Then, as by magic, she was
gone. He stopped for a moment In his
[racks.
Everything was unnaturally silent.
Even the frogs, for some mysterious
reason, had ceased their chorus. He
found himself listening breathlessly for
he knew not what. A ghastly fear was
creeping over him. Something black
and awful was lurking right near him.
The air was hot and stifling: It was
difficult to breathe; his head seemed
bursting. Cautiously he began to pick
his way; then he began to walk rapid
ly; th*n to run: nor did he stop until
he had reached his father's door.
The next morning all was normal again.
The night seemed like some confused
dream, far off and vague. He laughed at
’ his panic, and all day long the passion
In his heart grew more Imperious. He
would go down again; he would go that
very evening. But he found no life
about the old house that night, nor the
next For a week he tried to see her,
but the whole place seemed deserted.
There was no response to Ills rapplngs
at the cabin: It was as If the family
had moved away. He went down Into
the Run and sat on the flat rock until
long after twilight, but there was no
sound or movement. Then for a time
he went no more Into the uncanny hole,
but tried to smother out his thoughts
by the hard work of the spring plant
ing.
CHAPTER XII.
THE PLAY AND THE CHORUS.
During the days following the fire.
Rose seemed sober and preoccupied—a
new mood for her. She did not laugh
and sing as of old, and she did not go
out of afternoons to drive. Therefore
she Is stek. reasoned her father, and he
knew the cause. It was the Inevitable
reaction. A girl cannot be snatched
from the brink of death without a
shock. An experience like hers has oft
en completely unnerved a woman and
made ner a physical wreck for life. He
insisted on calling Dr. Kuack, but she
scorned the Idea.
On Sunday, when Karl KelehHne
drove into the yard, she declared that
she would not see him. Somehow the
very sight of the man repelled her. She
wanted to go to her room and stay
there.
"But, Rose, you need to he cheered
up. and no one can do It like Karl,"
the old Squire had burst out. “Of
course you'll see Karl."
"No, I v. n t," she snapped. "I don t
want to see anybody."
"But you'll st-e Karl, nose."
"And why?”
“Oh, come, come. Rose. Of course
you’ll see him. He’ll put you In good
spirits In no time. He's Jolly's a lark
this morning. Mother and I are going
to meeting and leave you two to keep
house. Of course I wouldn't have you
go to church feeling as you do.”
"Of course you don't. I know at
about it, you rogue! I know girls
Take good care of him. Dot. Ho, ho
ho!" He went out in great good hu
mor, and Mrs. Hartswlck Joined him
at the door. Then Karl came In, simp
ering and solicitous, and she ushered
him into the front room.
Somehow she felt no desire to laugfc
at him now, though he had never ap
peared more ludicrous. Bolt upright he
sat In a straight backed chair that
creaked dolefully under Ills every move
ment, an«l twirled his fat thumbs, and
told her of his week; his sales of this
and that; his plans and his profits, and
his ideas. The abundance of his pros
perity seemed to keep him in a con
tinual state of mild astonishment. She
did not laugh nor remark; she sat by
the window, her eyes on the distant
range, which still had a ghost of smoke
upon it, and rocked to and fro with
nervous Jerks, while he droned on with
his tales of proseprous endings and
moving accidents by store and farm.
Today she loathed the man. It seemed
to her as if she had never really seen
him before. Something all of a sudden
had opened her eyes. He was a mere
clod of a creature, intent on money
and acres. And he was to be her hus
band: Her father's will was like iron
when once he was set, and he had
willed it. There was no escape; only
five weeks morel She stopped rocking
and looked with far eyes out over the
ridge. He had never known her so
still.
‘ You are not well, Rose,” he said at
length, with ealf-llke tenderness. "You
are not yourself.”
"No; I'm not myself,” she snapped
suddenly, turning full upon him. “I
think I'd better go to my room." In
a twinkling she disappeared, leaving
him to wonder and speculate, and spend
the forenoon alone.
After the dinner, which was pariarch
ai in Its quality and its profusion, the
Squire took the young man to a ramble
over the estate. He Instructed him as
to the different plots and their time
of rotation, and ho mapped out the
spring campaign of plantings and sow
ings. The fences were in perfect con
dition; the corners and bounds were
carefully marked; the wheat was free
from winter-kill and ''fly.” Then he
exhibited the barns and out-buildlngs
and stock as If Karl were a prospective
buyer. And the young man viewed it
all with huge approval and made hard
hearted suggestions that pleased the
Squire. Here was a soninlaw after his
own heart.
They sat long over the evening tea,
so long that Karl missed the evening
service. He was In high spirits. He
laughed and Joked and beamed upon
Rose, and the old man reflected his
Joy; he fairly purred in his content.
Things were moving smoothly. It was
perfectly natural that Rose should be
sober. She had gone through an ex
perience that, was enough to fill a life
tlmo with shudders—but it would end
all right. She needed diversion, and
merry company, and she was getting It.
That night, as she started for her
room, he spoke to her with unusual ten
derness.
"The day has done you good, Dot."
He put his hand on her shoulder and
looked at her admiringly. "I haven't
seen so much color in your cheeks for
a long time. Oh, we know all about it,
you rogue. You can't fool us. Ho, ho.
ho!” He chucked her under the chin
playfully.
“Hut, father-"
"Oh, come, come now; don't say a
word about it,” he cut her o!T Jovially.
"I know Just how it Is. Girls have
to go through Just about so much
nonsense. It's born In ’em. Ho, ho, ho!
But you go to sleep, and get rested.
Dot. Sleep Just as long's you want to;
that's what's going to put you right
onto your feet again. Don’t you worry
one bit. Wal, good-night." She wa
vered a moment as if about to speak,
then turned and ran quickly up the
stairs.
Her room was on the garden side. She
blew out her light as she entered. She
would sit by the window in the cool
night air. She wanted to think. A
young moon was casting in a weird
twilight, and the thrill and odor of the
growing spring were breathing up from
the garden like a greeting.
She had hardly closed the door when
something dropped with a little crash
near the window and rolled with me
tallic ticklings into the center of the
room. Her first thought was that she
had pushed something from the bureau,
and half automatically she groped to
pick it up. A moment later her hand
struck it—a pine cone. How came a
pine cone in her room? It must have
come Inc at the open window. There
was a paper on it—a note. He was out
there; it was a message from him.
Her heart went off in a flutter, and her
hand trembled so that she could hardly
disentangle the dainty little missive.
What did it say? To light the lamp and
examine it was out of the question; he
would know at once what she was do
ing. A moment and sho went into the
opposite room, closed the door and
struck a match. A candle was on the
little table.
i hi miss nariawn iv. a nm 1 ii nit
garden under your window. May I see
you for a moment and speak to you?
I must see you some time. The other
day In the mountains you were with
me only by accident, and 1 would not
take advantage of the accident to tell
you what I must tell you. May I see
you. If It Is only for a moment? Iam
sitting on the bench by the crocuses
iind waiting for you. I am, honestly
yours, James Farthing.”
She blew, out t'.ie cahdie instantly, as
if in spite of the Inner room he could
see her; then she stole back. As she [
entered again the sweet thrill of the ■
April night stole up and greeted her
like the breath of a lover. Then she sat j
for a moment on the side of the bed
and tried to think.
The note was still In her hand. After
a time she went Into the opposite room
again, and, re-lighting the candle, read
it twice over. There were fair
ness and passion and boyish
honesty In every line. How
gentlemanly he had been and how con
siderate! "You were with me only by
accident, and I would not take advan
tage of the accident-." She tiptoed
to the head of the stairs and listened.
No sound. Her father and mother
were already in bed and doubtless
asleep.
Another wavering moment and she
went to her room, found a soft, whit -
shawl to throw over her shoulders, and
then stole down the back way into the
night—the throbbing April night, where
young Jim. trembling with eagerness,
stood amid the crocuses.
Now the age-old drama of two men
and a maiden, if played in the madness
of the city, may escape all notice un
til the culmination brings Its short
lived wonder, but in a little poeket of
the hills It is vastly different. The play
goes on before a hundred spectators all
eager to note the slightest flutter of
! heart or eyelid, and every Idle gather
ing In store »r shop or horseshed, like
the chorus of the old drama, discusses
and comments and speculates.
Many of the whispered tales of Karl
and Jim and Rose came surprisingly
near the truth, and many came sur
prisingly far from It, but near or re
i mote, the whispering never ceased. At
| every gathering one was sure to hear
the conclusions pf the old, who viewed
1
the play objectively; or the comments
of the middle-aged, who looked upon it
not coldly, but curiously; and the ex
clamations of the young, who philoso
phised not at all, but speculated with !
eagerness.
Thus the chorus droned on In the
interludes.
The Bottom church, a great square
block of a building, stands alone, full
10 rods from the store on one side, and
the school house on the other. Along
the road on either side extend for many
rods thick poles spiked to the tops of
posts, to be used for hitching places.
On a fair Sunday these rails are crowd
ed from end to end with horses and
Tigs'' of every description, some of
them there after a Journey of six and :
even eight miles. It is always a thrill- !
Ing experience to the stranger in the j
valley to come suddenly, amid the per- ;
feet silence of a Sabbath, around the '
curve of the road upon these two long
rows of motionless horses, with no oth- ;
er hint of human life in the vicinity.
Country worshippers come early to
church on fair mornings, and they de- '
light to gather in knots, the men about 1
the horses, and the women in the ves- I
tibule, to talk until the arrival of the
preacher. On the 30th of April, the
Sunday after Jim had thrown the pine- |
cone, the group was especially large. '
Its nucleus and oracle was Amos Hard
ing, who was seated sidewise on a
wagon seat, his feet roosting preca
riously on one of the wheels.
“Say, that drove of old hogs there |
by the mootin' house looks hansum, now j
don’t it?" he was running on garru- !
lously. ''Runnln' wild right in the i
street—by Moses, I wonder what they’d j
say up to Connecticut? Ever think of
it, the name of this state Is Pen-sylva- j
nia and there ain't a tarnal pig pen in j
the state! Say, do you know a feller
once told me the rule for flndin’ latl- ,
tude in the United States? You multi- !
ply the number of bogs running loose
on a mile of road by the average num
ber of rods of rail fence to the
square mile of land and you’ll have the
distance in miles from the Connecti
cut river, countin’ north and south. He,
he, he! Better rule than that, though:
You multiply the average number of
pints of paint to a house in any region
by the number of square inches in the i
average front yard and if you’re care- ;
ful of your fractions, you'll get the ex- j
act distance in rods to the nearest point !
on the Gulf of Mexico. Fails in Centre ;
county, though; all rules do. W’y. i
we’re miles north of the paint-line and I
miles north of the average hog-line,
but In spite of all that, if you apply
arry one of them rules it lands us I
right off the tip end o’ Florida.”
"Jest you look o’ there wunst," spoke 1
up a voice in a low whisper. All turned |
Instantly. Rose Hartswick was walk- ;
log up the path with her father and
Karl Kelchltne.
"Looks kinder pale. I take it; don’t
seem to he as chipper as she was once.” ;
There was a note of sarcasm In Lem
Fisher's voice. “You folks can’t see a
hoss-fly unless he’s lit right onto the
tip-end of your nose. I tell you Rose !
ain’t long for this world still. She's
got the oppnehmer If ever I seen any i
une have it yetst. Wasn't that the way |
Katie Barndollar looked at first? And ;
what did I tell the Squire last winter? ,
What did I ask him wunst? Now Jest
Bee what's er happenin’.”
"And what’s happenin’?” asked Amos
curtly.
“Yes, I'd ask that if I was you." He
looked scornfully up at the man. “You
haln’t saw. I spose, how' A1 Farthing's
spell-bound her to Jim? And Karl’s
the best match for a girl there Is in this
county still. She'd never want to get i
shet of a man like Karl if she wan't
spell-bound and haexed. Nosuh.”
"And who sez she wants to get red
of Karl?” asked Amos sternly.
“Oh, pshaw! if I was as blind as you
be I’d get some glass eyes wunst.
Haln't she made him wait till the first
o' June a’ready before she sayes the
word? Why’s that now? It’s jest be
cause she don't dast to run plumb
against her father still, and because
she's spell-bound to Jim. Are you fool
enough to suppose when it comes time
she'll give Karl the yes? Not by a
long shot. She'll outen hts light and
Jim ’ll be high line. Yrou Jest wait and I
see." He squinnied up his left eye and
nodded know ingly at the crowd.
"But won't Karl fight?" Inquired j
Uncle Jake in an old man’s shrill quav- j
or. “Karl ain't no baby still.”
"Oh, no; there won't be no fight. Oh, !
no!” The oracle was nothing If not !
cock-sure. “There’ll be Jest a little I
pow-wowlng that nobody ’ll know noth
ing about, and pop! over ’ll go poor I
Karl with a stroke, or something else,
his eyes bulging out like he'd saw the |
devil wunst. Or perhaps he’ll have the
oppnehmer or the run-down or some- '
thing Jest as Rose has got It. Oh. I
tell you, Karl's goin' to be out of It
come June still. You-uns see If he
haln’t.”
“Plain 's the nose on your face
a’ready," chimed in Ulie.
(Continued Next Week.)
T rust.
Build a little fence of trust
Around today:
Fill the space with loving work
And therein stay.
Book not through the sheltering bars
Upon tomorrow.
God will help thee bear what cornea,
Of Joy or sorrow.
—Mary Frances Butts.
Ruysters Kramp—What are your objec- ,
tions to my poetry?
Magazine Editor—Well, for one thing
it keeps on coming. Flit that for me and
I'll waive the other reasons.
When a Man Lies.
Frfcm tiie Denver Fost.
“If you want to tell whether or not the
{nan you are talking to is telling the truth
don't look him in the eyes." said a bank
teller to some friends the other night. "I ,
thought it was just the other way." said
one of those present. “I’ve always under- |
stood that it made it harder for the liar i
if you looked squarely in his eyes."
“That's a wrong impression," continued
the bank teller. "The man who knows
how to lie knows hew io look you in the
eyes when he's doing it. And the man !
who has made up his mind to lie to you,
decides first that he must look you
straight in the eyes. It is the voice when
you don't look at the eyes, that tells you
whether the other fellow is lying We
use the system frequently in the bank. A
man will come In to tell us some business
tale. We look at his feet or his knees,
but never in his eyes. If he's telling the
truth his voice will be firm and straight
forward. and the absence of your gaze in
his eyes will not affect it, but if he's lying
he'll be confused by your action, and hia
voice will tremble. He'll hem and haw
and clear his throat. You may rest as*
sured then that he’s stringing you."
Once Bit.
From the Philadelphia Enquirer.
M. Serpollet had finished bis holiday
in England and paid his exorbitant ho
tel bill. His heart was sad, yet his
native courtesy w as as perfect as ever.
"Send se proprietaire to me," he said
to the waiter, and presently mine host
entered.
Immediately Serpollet was all beam
ing smiles.
"Ah. let me embrace you! I.et me
Uees you!” he cried in an ecstasy of
welcome.
"But why do you want to embrace
me. sir? I don't understand."
"Ah, saire, but look at zees beel."
"Your bill? Yes: but what of it?”
"Vot < f it? Vy, it meant zat I s’ll
nevaire, nev&ire see you again, dear
saire."
HIS HARD LUCK NUMBER.
*Do you believe that thirteen is an unlucky number?"
“You bet I do. My wife was the thirteenth woman I proposed to."
"THECYCLONE ORATOR OF
KANSASBRISTOW'S TITLE
Washington, Special: The Hon. Jo
seph L. Bristow is in training for the
title of "Cyclone Orator of Kansas."
Mr. Bristow has borne the fact in
upon the Senate that he can talk like a
house afire. It has been quite as much
of a surprise to him as It was to the
Senate. He never dreamed of it till
he was put right up against speech
making. and then he unlimbered his
long arms, set them in motion like the
wings of a Dutch windmill overlooking
the Zuyder Zee, tuned up his voice, and
sailed right in.
It wasn't till various circumstances,
chief among them his own ambition for
the Job, had made him a candidate for
the Senate, a year ago, that Bristow
ever thought about speechmaking. He
had been an editor. But being a candi
date for senator against Chester I.
Long, he went out speechmaking; and
he got away with it, too. He was scared
entirely to death the first night; stood
it better the second; warmed up to it
the third; and in a fortnight was Just
laying it off like an old timer. He
presently got so he didn't mind the
He Was Honest.
From the Philadelphia Record.
Revelations concerning the double
career of the Russian terrorist police
agent, Azeff. recall a story told of Louis
XVIII., King of France, and Fouche,
who had been at one time Napoleon’s
minister of police. After the Bourbon
restoration the king asked Fouche
whether he had set spies over him dur
ing the empire. Fouche admitted that
he had. "Who was the spy?" the king
asked, and he was informed that It
had been the Comte de Blacas. "How
much did he get?” continued the king.
"Two hundred thousand francs a year,
your majesty.” "Ah. well,” said Louis,
“he was honest, then, after all—I had
half.”
The Language of Clothes.
From the Cleveland Plain Dealer.
A pompous colored woman wheeled
Into the cloak department of a down
town store.
"Can I direct you. madam?" inquired
one of the managers.
“Yes sail. Ah wants the gown de
pahtment."
"What kind of gowns, madam?”
further inquired the officer.
"Why, women's gowns, of co’se," re
plied the customer disgustedly. "Y'all
think Ah wants a gown fo' a man?"
"But. madam," explained the man
ager, "you see we have different kinds
of gowns. There are tailor made
gowns, evening gowns and night
gowns."
"No, salt,” put in the woman,
promptly. "Ah don't want no tallah
made gowns, or night gowns, or early
in-the-evning' gowns. What Ah
wants is jes’ a plain gown to do wash
in' in. Ah wants a calico wrapper.
That's what Ah wants."
sound of his own voice at all. which at
least indicated that he had senatorial
timber in him. Then he took on th*j
oratorical habits. He learned to say
"forsooth” and "perchance” and tu
work off the effective touches with
which the stump orator garnishes his
discourse.
Before he realized to what expertness
Bristow had attained, Long, thinking
an old time stumper like himself would
easily make this amateur look like a
baby with an empty bottle, challenged
Bristow to a couple of joint debates.
Bristow was in such position that he
couldn't well decline the challenge: it
would have been a confession of weak
ness and inexperience. So he promptly
accepted, and two debates were held.
The first of those debates was the first
experience of the kind Bristow had ever
had in his life. He went on the plat
form worse frightened than he had been
the first time he essayed a speech—and
he cleaned up Senator Long so well that
the audience was all for Bristow at the
end of the performance. On election
day the state gave Bristow the verdict.
Victor Hugo’s House.
The house in which Victor Hugo died
has just disappeared from Paris. It
was in the avenue which bears his
name, and close to his statue.
Arsene Houssaye, in "Les Annales,”'
says that he never addressed a letter
to him in any other fashion but—
To Victor Hugo.
At His Avenue.
Tet the house itself had a modest ap
pearance. Its chief charms were a
beautiful garden, with great trees and
a delightful fountain, and the extra
ordinary richness c its furniture.
The house did n belong to Victor
Hugo. It had been Duilt by the Prin
cess de Lourignan. and Hugo finally,
tried to buy it from the princess. To
his amazement she asked £30,000.
The lady smiled. "That is nothing,
considering.” she remarked pleasantly]
"Considering what'."’ demanded the
still bewildered poet.
"Think, master: this little house has
had the incomparable honor of having
been lived in by Victor Hugo."
The master smiled In his turn, as he
replied, this time without a trace of be
wilderment:
"Ah, madam, you see I am not rich*
enough to have a house which has been
lived in by Victor Hugo.”
A Lover of Humanity.
From the London Globe.
"What are you doing here?" said th^
woman to the tramp who had got over
the wall just in time to escape the bull-*
dog.
"Madam," replied the dignified va
grant, "I did intend to request some
thing to eat; but all I ask now is that,
in the interests of humanity, you’ll
feed that canine."
ANOTHER LABOR SAVING INVENTION.
Ousty Rhodes: “Fer th’ love of heaven, Weary, what you got there?”
Weary Walker: “Just swiped 'em from a dago down in the village. Great
•st scheme I've struck yet. Only hav« to use yer legs to steer by, and ye can
go to sleep movin’ along.”
i
Government Cemeteries.
From the Boston Globe.
The government of the United State* —_
has established cemeteries in various
parts of the country for the burial of
men who have died in the military' and
naval service. There are 82 of thes*
burial places scattered throughout 21
states of the union, principally in the
South. Eleven of these cemeteries con
tain over 10,000 graves each. The
Gettysburg cemetery, although one of
the smallest. Is famous as having been
dedicated by President Lincoln in 1863.
About 3,506 soldiers are burled there. In ^B
1S72 it passed under the control of th*
United States government.
Smoke and Prosperity.
From the Chicago News.
Ah, yen'. Not only is coal smoke, a*
the magnate avers, a germ destroyer,
but it gives plenty of work to the laun
dries and thus promotes prosperity. . fl
I
A Chemical Amnity.
From the Cornell Widow.
She—What is meant by chemical af
finity?
He—Why—er a peroxide blonde.
In its mercantile marine Japan ha*
1,618 steamships, of 1,153,340 aggregat*
tonnage; 4.515 sailing vessels, of 372,
319 aggregate tonnage, and 1,390 Jap
anese 'ships of the old sfyle,” of 511,
452 aggregate tonnage; In all, 7,523
ships, of 2,027,111 aggregate tonnage.
The operating cost of the Brooklyn
bridge is found to be as high as $360,000
a year, according to an investigation
made by the controller of New York
city. This figure is the average of 10
years' maintenance and operating cost,
beginning with 1898.
A man generally weighs most at hi*
40th year.
Iniinnt Relief for AH Eyes,
that are irritated from dust, heat, sun or
wind, PETTIT’S EYE SALVE. All drug
gists or Howard Bros., Buffalo, N. Y.
Accomplished Kentuckian.
From Owensboro Inquirer.
Notice—Know all men by these pres
ents. that I. Shadrach H. Armstrong,
have coal oil for sale at 15 cents a gal
lon. Some say It ain’t good oil. but
I say it is. I will also tie your broom
rorn, one-holf for the other. I crush
corn every Thursday by tollgate. Tur
keys picked very promptly any day of
week. Horseshoeing a specialty at 8
bits around. Watch and pistol repair
ing guaranteed. Shoes half soled while
you wait. Umbrellas fixed and ax
handles made for 15 cents. Will teach
Southern harmony and the fiddle com
bine for $3 mo. Pictures enlarged by
a new process, and my hot tamale and
hair oil receipt go 330 days for 25 cents. W
Hair-cutting only on Saturday eve- ^
nlng. 20 cents a head. A good stripper
cow for sale. Also agent for the Jones
Wagon hoist, the Tom McElrath To
bacco Duster and Foot's Medical Ad
vertiser. Rufe Langston is my attor
ney and my terms is cash—first, be
cause I know you; second, because I
don't know you.
Before Ways and Means Committee.
From the Chicago Tribune.
"Father.'' said the young college stu
3ent. unfolding a sheet of paper, "here
is a careful estimate of what I shall
have to tax you for my expenses next
term.”
"All right, John.”
The elder man took the sheet of pa
per and looked over it.
Then he began making marks on It
with a pencil.
“What are you doing, father?” asked
the young man, uneasily.
"I’m revising it downward, my son,”
answered the other, continuing to make
marks with his pencil.
Effort to regulate the height of elec
tric "sky signs” of New York has
failed.
Nearly even- Japanes son follows ths.
profession or trade of his father.
OVER THE FENCE.
Neighbor Sa>« Something.
The front yard fence is a famous
council place on pleasant days. Mayb*
to chat with some one along the street,
or for friendly gossip with next door
neighbor. Sometimes it is only small
talk, but other times neighbor has
something really good to offer.
An old resident of Baird, Texas, got
some mighty good advice this way
once.
He says:
“Drinking cofTee left me nearly dead
with dyspepsia, kidney disease and
bowel trouble, with constant pains in
my stomach, back and side, and so
weak I could scarcely walk.
"One day I was chatting with one of
my neighbors about my trouble and
told her I believed coffee hurt me.
Neighbor said she knew lots of peopla
to whom coffee was poison and she
pleaded with me to quit it and give
Postum a trial. I did not take her ad
vice right away, but tried a change of
climate which did not do me any good.
Then I dropped coffee and took up
Postum.
"My improvement began Immediate
ly and 1 got better every day 1 used
Tostum.
"My bowels became regular and In
two weeks all my pains were gone.
Now I am well and strong and can eat
anything I want to without distress.
All of this is due to my having quit
coffee, and to the use of Postum regu
larly.
My son who was troubled with in
digestion thought that if Postum help
ed me so, it might help him. It did,
too, and he is now well and strong
again.
We like Postum as well as we ever
liked the coffee and use It altogether
in my family in place of coffee and all
keep well." "There's a Reason." Read
"The Road to Wellville," In pkgs.
Ever read the above letter? A V
new one appears from time to time.
They are genuine, true, and full ol
human interest.
