SCOURGE IS STILL DEADLK1 Claims of a “Cure" for Consumptlor Have Mot Been Verified by Scien tific Authorities. In spite of the statements of a nnro ber of Individuals who have recently claimed that they have found a “cure" for consumption, the National Associ ation for the Study and Prevention of Tuberculoeis, the highest authority on this disease in America, declares that there is no Information at hand to jus tify the belief that any specific cure for tuberculosis has been discovered which deserves the confidence of the medical profession and the people. Backing up these statements, the United States public health service declares that outside of the three es sentials in the treatment of consump tion, namely, rest, fresh air, and good food, "There Is no drug known, how ever rare or expensive It may be, that has any curative action in this disease, and all remedies advertised as such are to be avoided. Patent cough med icines are harmful; redium, X-rays or electricity in any of its form have no special value in tuberculosis of the lungs. No serum has yet been found that will cure it, and there is no plas ter or poultices which has any effect on the disease Itself. Dr. Pierce’s Pleasant Pellets first put up 40 years ago. They regulate and invigorate, stomach, liver and bowels. Sugar-coated tiny granules. Adv. Modern Morals. Senator Joseph E. Russell was talking in Washington about his bill for the abolition of divorce. “The bill’s object?” he said. "It's object Is, of course, to reduce immor ality, loose thinking, loose speaking.’ Senator Ransdell smiled and added: "Don’t take it too seriously—but here is an episode that throws a light on modern morals. A business man came home unex pectedly one morning and found his little son busy at his wife's dressing table. " ‘What on earth are you doing there, my lad?” he asked. “ ‘I'm mixing powdered quinine with mother’s face powder,’ the youngster answered. ‘She’s going motoring with Mr. Smith. Won’t she taste bitter?’ ' Grape Seed Oil. Oil from grape seeds has become a byproduct of the wine Industry In por tions of France. Italy and Wuertem berg. The Bulletin of the Americar Association of Commerce and Trade, published in Berlin, says that the first pressing, obtained cold, Is of edible oil; that extracted by pressing and heating Is dark and bitter, and is used for lighting purposes and in the mak ing of soap. It is described as a good substitute for the expensive oils used in the textile industry. About 2.2 pounds of oil may be expressed from the seeds of grapes yielding 26.42 gal lons of wine. Business Proposition. A boy who had done something tc Incur the wrath of his mother and then had taken to his heels was hotly pursued for some distance by her. Finding it was useless to continue the pursuit, and almost beside herself with rage, the old lady shouted at the top of her voice: “I’ll give anybody a dime to catch that boy!” The boy Instantly stopped and, turning round, shouted in reply: “Give me the dime and I’ll come back.” - —■ j Matter of Self-Protection. "Your servants use exceedingly bad grammar.” “I pay ’em extra for it,” replied Mr. Cumrox. ‘Tm tired of having my line of talk around the house suffering by contrast." Natural Conclusion. “How do you suppose that soft coal dissolution movement will end?” “Oh, I suppose it will end up in smoke." UPWARD START After Changing from Coffee to Postum. Many a talented person is kept back because of the interference of coffee with the nouriehment of the body. This is especially so with those whose nerves are very sensitive, as is often the case with talented persons. There is a simple, eaey way to get rid of coffee troubles and a Tenn. lady's experience along these lines is worth considering. She says: "Almost from the beginning of the use of coffee it hurt my stomach. By the time I was fifteen I was almost a nervous wreck, nerves all unstrung, no strength to endure the most trivial thing, either work or fun. “There was scarcely anything I could eat that would agree with me. The little I did eat seemed to give me more trouble than it was worth. I was literally starving; was so weak I could not sit up long at a time. “It was then a friend brought me a hot cup of Postum. I drank part of It and after an hour I felt as though I had had something to eat — felt strengthened. That was about five years ago, and after continuing Post um in place of coffee and gradually getting stronger, today I can eat and digest anything I want, walk as much as I want. My nerves are steady. “I believe the first thing that did me any good and gave me an upward start, was Postum, and I use it alto gether now instead of coffee.” Name given by the Postum Co., Battle Creek, Mich. Postum now comee in two forms: Regular Postum — must bo well boiled. 15c and 25c packages. Instant Postum—is a soluble pow der. A teaspoonful dissolves quickly in a cup of hot water and, with cream and sugar, makes a delicioue bever age Instantly. 30c and 60c tins. The cost per cup of both kinds is about the same. “There's a Reason” for Postum. —sold by Grocers. A STERLING NOVEL OF THE GREAT MIDDLE WEST eMIDIANDER5 Sy Charles Tenney Jackson • t” hie mar souls, ml brothers KEEPER etc. etc. CnrtH* M**. Ttm B*»h» MwriH _ CHAPTER XX (Continued). "Done wore It 'round her neck when I stole her for Old Man Captain. Yes, sir, he done wanted a little child to lead 'em.” Ladeau slipped his oily fingers under the chain as Wiley laid It back. "Eh? Dat strange work, Mr. Wiley!" He peered closer. "Only one man ever make dat. Francois on Cartres street —look, he mark all his sliver so!" he turned the cruclflx. On the under side were crude letters. Ladeau put the trinket down and sighed: "Eheu! Dat bisque I have eat In dat ol’ silversmith shop!” He rubbed his stomach—"Dat bisque—” But they hod turned away to listen to Wiley Curran. "That cruclflx, Mrs. Llndstrom? Might I take It and have It cleaned and send It to Aurelle? For a present from all of you—with love from all of you? Shes such a great lady now!” She looked at Uncle Mich. His face grew tender. "I reckon. I wouldnt’ let anybody but you take It, Mr. Wiley. She loved that little cross and chain. But you-—I reel on you can, Mr. Wiley!" Wiley turned back to the table. The chain lay there. But when he lifted it the silver cross was missing. He looked about; then on the floor. "Its gone! The crucifix!’ The boys were searching In the rag carpet rugs. Curran looked about again, at all of them—then at Maurice Ladeau. He was rubbing his hands with his old slovenly card-sharp trick, and smiling. "Maurice, It was there when I laid It down!” He came nearer. The cajun shrugged. "It was there when you picked It up.” "Mercl! I been a thief den? Fo' a picayune bit of silver? I sho’ never see dat!” They looked about, under the bed and the dresser. But nothing was found. Michigan stumped out and crawled under the house to make sure It had not gone through some crack. "Done been curious!" He came back and set his shaggy brows hard on John and then Ladeau. "But you take the chain, Mr. Wiley. Mebbe we'll find the little cross.” Curran was annoyed. 'Til get a new crucifix put on, Uncle Mich. Then I'll write Aurelle. But It’s curious!" He went home and, sitting in the shop, took out the chain to muse over It. "Done come up river!" He smiled and held it off toward the light—"God bless you. Uncle Mich! You and your little girl! Done come up river to oc J:uny the land. To find the land of oy! ’’ And as he stood up later, closing the door to go to the cottage, he heard a roaring off to the west. At first faint, then growing as the train sped through the uplands' cut and reached the Earl ville yards. In the News shop door, Mr. Curran listened, holding still the rosary against his cheek where her own baby lips had kissed It. Then with his old fancy he waved It toward the east. "Because you’re there Aurelle—Just because you're there!” And a sudden Impulse seized him. He was W’ont to do things on uncon sldered Impulses. He had an appoint ment with the Hon. T. P. Purcell, his political manager, the next day at 10 o’clock. But he suddenly growled: "Congress be damned!” Then he whirled and dashed through the shop, up to his cottage and Into hl3 bedroom. Aunt Abby was snoring, as he crammed collars and brushes and tits and slippers into a suit case, and then dashed out again and over the fence with the lightness of a boy. He forgot to close the door. He scattered toilet articles from High street to the Junction. But one thing he did not lose and that was Aurelle’s rosary! And by one of those curious chances of destiny which make or mar a man's life, the Chicago train was three min utes late, and he made it. CHAPTER XXL THE TINSEL, SHOW. He had no difficulty In finding her. The posters before the Cohan & Snitz syndicate theater were featuring her. The publicity bureau had spread far upon -he value of that "$100,000 prize beauty" contest. Everything was fish, or more properly. Kosher meat that came to the net of Cohan & Snitz. "And to think." murmured Mr. Cur ran that morning, after breakfast at the Sherman house, "that Vawter, the artist, and me of the News were at the bottom of it!" Aurelie had made a go of it that was certain. Wiley learned of her ho tel at the box office. It was one that startled him, for to the sober Mid lands, it stood for all the city's opu lence; to Wiley it was barbaric. Byzan tine, dangerous. "What?" he muttered, "has our little Iowa girl go to do, living at the Gray stone? How the mischief can she af ford it?" For he couldn’t free himself from Aurelie’s vagabondage of the rabbit hunting days. She was a many-sided person who could skin rabbits or sing enticingly each night: “If I Were the Only Girl in the World, Don’t You Think You Could Love Me?” or some one other of those American folk songs which tlie Hebrews write for us—and sell us. Wiley passed a whole window pyramided with the great song hit, and Aurelie's picture was on top of it. “Well. I’ll be damned.” he said. "You kid!" He went in and bought a copy of "If I Were the Only Girl.” etc. Then he ran across Jeffries of the Times, whom he used to know in Rome, and who envied Wiley for being his own master and the big frog in the little puddle; and Wiley said. “That’s so,” but se cretly envied Jeffries his place in the big puddle of city newspaperdom. Then Jeffries said curiously: “Saw you were in politics down in the old town. Wiley?" "Sort of. The Delroy bunch got me to run against Jim Hall, and. bless me, if I didn’t beat his head off in the primary." "Thunder—you in congress! Oh, great guns. Wiley!” "That’s what they all say.” “Is Thad unanimous?” “The old skunk will knife me, but the court-house ring is about down and out. I think. Had to put Harlan Van Hart on their ticket this fall to sort of brace it up. The people has riz up. and let a yelp. Benny, and I'm on the riz with ’em. Come on. I'll take you to a show this afternoon.” “Ain’t one in town worth killing.” “What’s the matter with “The Girl and the Burglar?” “Some more bunk handed us from Broadway. But the girl in it is all to the good. She’s peeled off a three-bag ger with this town.” “Sing?” quavered Mr. Curran palpi 27 tatlngly. "Not much. No one can In these shows." "Act?” continued Mr. Curran, more palpitatingly. "Not much. She doesn’t hare to. Nobody does. But this girl's got the nerve and personality, and the dear old public always falls for that. She Just reaches out over the lights and grabs ’em with her smile." "What—” faltered Mr. Curran. "Is her name?” "Ain't you heard? Aurelle Undstrom, She came out of your corn belt some where. First season In the big busi ness. Cohan & Snlts took her out of a Broadway bunch green as grass, and the first night here she saved the show by making faces. The leading woman blew up and quit right there.” "Ijet’s go!” cried Mr. Curran. "Can’t. I'm on the city hall, today. But take It In. she’ll do to pass an hour with." Mr. Curran hurried away. He walked four blocks and gazed Into another store front, piled with "If I Were the Only Girl,” etc., "featured by Aurelle Lindstrom In "The Girl and the Burg lar,” and then another and another! And finally he went to the lake front and gazed on the massive pile wherein she lived. He had lost his nerve; he was afraid to go In. He forgot all about congress and affairs of state. He went to see a wholesale paper house on busi ness, and took In the art museum, re solved that he would call on Aurelle at 6. Then ho reasosed that was too close to dinner and he’d probably both er her and six or seven millionaires who’d be hanging around In the por tieres; so he dined alone at the Annex and drank a pint of champagne as ri otously as a country editor can drink champagne.. After dinner It was too late to see her, so he concluded It would bo best to watch her act first and make up his mind unprejudiced by personal contact By great luck he got a ticket from a speculator, for the house was sold out. His ticket was for the last row. downstairs, but he didn’t care; It was enough to be under the same roof with Aurelle; the orchestra squawking and the program boys hustling over his feet; and all about him the dinner filled and waddly Importance with which people go to shows. Wiley had been long enough away from cities to take a pleasure In watching the mob crowd In, and hearing the rustle of their gowns and hats and smelling their perfumes. The esthete’s soul in him drew away from their lust of feed and spectacle, their exploiting banality, yet he knew this repugnance had no place In a politician and he was trying tp be a politician. Then the orchestra played that chtr rupy, zing-zlng music, with which all musical comedies begin, and the cur tain shot up to discover that theatric novelty which all good shows must have—the dilemma of the rich young man. This time he was In disguise abroad, where he had followed the daughter of the Wall street operator. Then the German Innkeeper, the Eng lish lord, the American aunt, the chauf feur. the waiter, the girls In the cafe, the cablegram, the ticker, and all those novel things for which the Amer ican people pay $2. and at which they laugh delightedly. There wasn't any burglar, but he was necessary. Mr. Curran waited feverishly. That kid, something surely would go wrong and spoil his delight! But—she came. Mr. Curran forgot to breathe. She was beautiful, and yet not bo as he had seen her in the woods. But it wasn't that—out of her abounding and fun loving health came alternately a droll abandon and then demureness; she was apart from all the professional people about her because of the de light with which she romped through her part. She hadn’t a ghost of a stage voice, or a stage look, or a stage walk; the people were beginning to laugh when she came on, and she was laugh ing with them; and out of the silly dialogue of the rich young man, who delighted everybody by stealing the chauffeur’s coat, she drew more S mirth for Cohan & Snltz. "She can’t act!" gasped Mr. Curran, horrified. “It’s Just only Aurelle!" That was It. Just Aurelle enjoying herself Immensely, laughing In a won drous creation of a gown that wilted Mr. Curran even to think upon. Then she began to sing, still In a great good humor, that heart throb of the Am erican people: "If I Were the Only Girl in the World. Don't You Think You Could Dove Me?" and the boys In the gallery raised a tremendous racket. She had to sing It four times and each time Mr. Curran rocked and moaned. "She can't sing! Oh, Aurelle!” But presently. with the uproarious pleasure of all these people, a great rapture came to Wiley Curran’s heart. She was just Aurelle, yet magically she won her way, all health and grace and honest gaiety. That was ull she had to give. He went out after the act and had a drink, the tears In his eyes. “The kid —the dear kid!” he murmured, and had another drink. When he got back the stage was a great splash of color, girls, hats, gowns, arms, legs. Imitation champagne, con versation about sugar stock and motor cars: but Mr. Curran waited Impatiently for the comedienne. He couldn’t get to his seat and stood by the rail. But when she came, this time In a dinner gown and opera cloak and sang "My Rosebud Girl”—really, this time, with a native lyric sweetness—Wiley sighed with more content, which may, after all, have been the two drinks. It was an amazing splendor and success, and he looked about In complacence that he knew her and the others did not. And one of those glances went to the figure of a man standing near, which he watched curiously for It was fa miliar. Then he saw It was Harlan Van Hart. Harlan, in the gloom of the foyer, watching Imperturbably. Be fore Wiley could move, the young man’s gaze shifted. He came directly, and without surprise, to the other man. "Wiley?” "You here?” "You saw the Journal tonight?” "No.” He shrugged toward the stage. "Of her?” Harlan motioned enigmatically. "Come with me. I want to show you. Although, I don’t know why I should." Curran followed to the cafe. They took a table. Harlan waved the waiter aside. "It's this—’’ He drew the paper from his pocket. "Why I came here. By God. to save her, Wiley, If It’s true!" The news article announced the sup posed engagement of Aurelle Dlnd strom, of the Cohan & Snltz combin ation. to a young man whom all the west knew for his plunging on the board of trade, his motor racing, his divorce proceedings and his affair* with women of the underworld. "1 presume you know who Benhani is?" Curran's voice came In a whisper. "He lies! Ah, God, it's not so!” "He dares publish it as so. And I came to see. I eamo to save her, and you—to amuse yourself!" The older man stared at him. His hand came from his pocket. "I came to give her tills. Her little rosary!” Harlan's eyes were on it. It had lain upon her neck all those nights of his summer love with her. "Her name,” he muttered on, "given as a former chorus girl—and coupled with Joe Benham's! It's horrible!" "It's a He!" Harlan sat back cooly. His gray eyes beckoned the waiter. “I'll see.” He was writing on a tab. Then, to the waiter: "Ring for a messenger. I’ll send for her. To meet us here after the performace.” Curran watched him etlently. Har lan had become the man. The touch of the Viking in hie blond strength, which Wiley had always admired, was up, young, triumphing, prtmalljr ruth less. Curran would not have dared send that message—-curt, direct, de manding that she come. He was con scious now of fighting against an ob session of the younger man's victor iousness. He would stop short of the gambler's chance, the staking of his all on his confidence in his own power. And in 15 minutes the boy came back. She had written nothing, she had merely told him she would come. Then they waited an Intolerable hour, talking vainly on mattors of the town, politics and business, law and news papering. Wiley fidgeted; Harlan was Imperturbably serene. The cafe filled with a crush of after theater feeders, the hum and motion became livelier as midnight drew on. And then, when they were still trying to entertain each other with commonplace and con strained confidence, none of that old Joy of Intercourse between them, there was a stir behind their table and Aure lle was there. They were both on their feet. Her amazement was delightful. She had a hand to each of them, crying out dis traction; she was provoked at them why hadn't they come like gentlemen to await her at the stage door Instead of sending for her? She felt as If she had been arrested. Harlan looked at Wiley, and Wiley at him. She was puzzled— but sho ha r ActtftfMKBiiiiMaHaDiiiim .iBaioBAHaHiiaaflBBBaannaKjisaaaiaa ■HfcraMB'a-iitffa:ai!tfU;.>l..j'.-: :«v;!:.i-^^!lllLllim!Cta-.a!asaiiaiCiUlB^^