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About The frontier. (O'Neill City, Holt County, Neb.) 1880-1965 | View Entire Issue (Oct. 14, 1915)
mi mi im MARY MIDTHORNE BY GEORGE BARR McCUTCHEON. Author of “Qraustark." "Truxton King,” etc. r copyright, 1911, By Dodd, Mead A Co. INI III! IIU ' CHAPTER XX—(CONTINUED). "You have never been out of my thoughts—not for a moment, day or night. Oh. we cannot talk here!” He forgot his troubles in the great Joy that swept over him. In the discov ery that she was true after all. The tender word, “sweetheart.” burst from hts lips. A mist swam before his eyes. But, almost with his breath of Joy came the chill that blighted It. He would have to hurt her, after all. His face grrw bleak and haggard, his lip trembled. She misconstrued the emotion that was depicted there. "When I heard that you werq here, I Insisted on coming home,” she went on breathlessly. "Father telegraphed to me last week. I had told him that the yacht was to extend the cruise sev eral weeks longer." "But you know I was coming on the 8th," ho said. "You had my letters." I "They were forwarded to me. I got them at Hnvanna. And. Eric,” she continued, flushed and 111 at ease, "I was afraid you would hate me for my treatment of Mary. I misjudged her. It was because I was Jealous. She preferred to be with John Payson and those women friends of his. I couldn't help resenting It." "Payson Is a gentleman. I’ve found that out for myself," said Eric, indi rectly defending Mary. “It was all so very childish of me,” she confessed. "I am ashamed of my self." They were now walking slowly, side by side, toward her home. Obviously, Mary was no longer paramount to her Intentions, He halted her abruptly. * “It's no use, Joan," he exclaimed. "I can't let It go on. Something has hap pened. You will know what it Is be fore the day is over. I haven't the courage to tell you myself." Her hand was on his arm. "Nothing can matter, Eric—nothing In the world," she said glibly. "You nre disappointed In me. You have u grievance, but It Is Imaginary. 1 can smooth those lines away If you will Just be patient with me. You are peeved and unhappy, you poor boy.” "It's got to end,” he repeated dog gedly. She stared. Alarm showed In her 34 arm linked with that of his companion. From the porch of the house they had Just left, Joan waved to them as they turned to look back from the corner below where the hedges grew high and wall-llke. "If I should happen to wake up right now," said Eric, a trifle unsteadily, "I'm afraid the disappointment would kill me. Of course. It's only a dream.” The judge smiled. "You’ve Just come out of a dream- and a very had one at that. A nightmare six years long! flood heaven, what an ago! I shudder to think of what It has been to poor old Horace and Mrs. Blagden." They were on their way to the of fice of a lawyer In Bank street, pur suant to a plan of action advanced by Joan's father, after he had recovered sufficiently from the effect of the two shocks—for it is always a shock to a father, even though he may have sus pected his daughter’s secret all along. He agreed with Eric that it was best to put himself In the hunds of the law without doluy, and to go through the form of being legally relieved of the charge of manslaughter. "But I—I can't ask Joan to be my wife. Judge Bright, even though I am discharged—’’ Eric hud started to say back there In the house, only to be stopped by the girl. "You’ve already asked me,” she had said, “and I will not release you.” Whereupon Judgo Bright had grave ly said, laying his hands on the younic man’s shoulders. "We have only the law to consider, Eric. If the law puts no barrier be tween you and Joan, I shall not do so. You understand?” "You mean, if the law says I am In nocent?" "That's It, my lad.” “I understand, Judge Bright." They had considered the designs of Horace Blagden, who, for reasons best known to himself, had carefully avold cd Eric since that harrowing scene in the library. In order to anticipate any Inimical move on the part of Chet wynd's father. Judge Bright volun teers,] to go at onee to the house on the hill for the purpose of arguing the case before the real Judge, the real prosecutor. He tried to share with Eric the belief that Mr. Blagden would re fuse to prosecute. But he was not yet able to view Horace Blagden In the aspect of humility that Eric described; he had known the great man of Cor inth all his life. He was not so sure that he could change his spots. v; CB. "There isn't anyone else?" she asked, after a moment. "No, no!” he cried out bitterly. "Then why-*-" she begun Impetuous ly, but chocked the words to say In stead: “Eric, dear, won't you come home with me? We will not say an other word all the way. When we are In the house you may tell me every thing. But you must come with me." They came upon Judge Bright In the yard. He smiled gentully as they drew near, falling to note the serious look In their faces or the dejected droop of Eric's head. The young man had been thinking hard during those blocks of self imposed silence. He owed the truth to Joan. It was wrong in him to even Vilnk of leaving her in the dark, un I spared for the shock that was to .tome later In thoj day. She should have it first from his lips. "So he wusn't offended by the way you ran off and left him yesterday—" began the Judge. Ills daughter's face became very pink, she caught her i.'cath In dismay. Eric smiled wearily. So there had Joen compunctions! She had talked It over with her father. There was lomething in that to be treasured. The Judge said ahem! thrice in rapid luccesslon, and fell away before the flaggers in Joan's eyes. With a very perfunctory remark about the splen dor of the day. he stood aside to let them pass, grimly certain of a bad kalf hour when she had him alone. Her cheeks were still pink when she preceded Eric into the library. Turn ing abruptly, she placed her hands on his shoulders. "Eric, I want you to hold me in your trms us you—" He crushed her to his breast. For l long time they stood so, their hot loung lips meeting in long, devouring kisses. At last he released her, and drew tick with a groan of despair. She was Jailing radiantly up Into his eyes. "It isn't so terrible after all, is it?” ihe cried breathlessly. Then she no ticed his expression. "Was it so ter rible as all that?” she exclaimed, pout ing. She was pulling off her gloves, all the while watclhng him as he stood plm and silent against the huge li brary table; as If in need of support, i'hen off came her trim Jacket. He did hot offer to assist her. She was puzzled. "Don’t remove your hat, Joan," he said, holding up his hand. "Stand there, Just as you are, while I tell you Why it cannot go on. 1 love you—I Worship you. I don't want you ever to forget that, dearest.” Again he spared not the details. The whole story poured from his lipa with a rush that left her powerless to In terrupt. Her eyes never left his Bet. unflinching face. A sort of stupe faction possessed tocr. He saw the va V.ous changes of expression that fol lowed the dawn of comprehension: the widening of her eyes In horror, the narrowing In pain, the flashes of ex citement and sympathy, the dying of all that had been Joyous. “I am sorry. Joan," he said at the end, after waiting a moment for her to speak. "You understand. I had to tell you, Just as I told the others." He expected her to turn away from him with a shudder of revulsion—he dreaded It. But she did not turn away. She stood still, her hands grip ping the chair which supported her. her big eyes looking Into the very soul of him. "I'll go now," he muttered, suddenly Weak and trembling. "Walt!" she said, almost mechanic ally. “Where are you going?” "To the sheriff,” he announced. "Will you tell your father? He will understand why I can't go on with the house. He need never know what we have been to each other. Perhaps it is better that he should not know. You—" With a sharp. Inarticulate cry she threw herself on his breast: she pressed his cheeks with her tense little hands and shook him desperately, lercely. Quick, hysterical sentences rushed from- her lips. “You are not a murderer. Y’ou were not to blame. Do you think I will let you go away feeling as you do? Do you think all this can change me in the least? Except to make me love you more than ever—a thousand-fold more. Eric, Eric, you must listen to me. I mean It—every word of it. I will not let you go." An hour later, Eric walked down Blagden avenue, accompanied by Judge Oawald Bright. The older man had hla As a matter of fact, neither Mr. Blagden nor his wife left the room dur ing the remainder of that awful Sab bath. nor did they appear for break fast the next morning. Eric and Mary had sat up half the night, waiting In suspense and dread for the library door to open to admit the gaunt figure of their uncle. As friend or foe it mat tered little toward the end of their vig il, so eager were they to have the or deal over with. They could hear the tread of footsteps overhead, and the occasional murmur of voices through the bedroom door. At midnight the light in the room was extinguished and the two who waited stole off to bed. the unknown verdict hanging over them. They slept not. Bong after the clock struck 3—not the old clock In the hall, but the new one in the court house dome—they heard a door open stealth ily and then the soft shuffle of feet In the hallway. A hoard In the floor creaked near Eric's door. He did not move, but the cold perspiration crept out all over ills body. Someone stood outside the door, listening. Sharp ears might have heard the beating of the heart that drummed In Eric’s breast. Then the ghostly creaking of the bourd again, and the shuffling of those stealthy feet. A dis tant door whined softly and a lock clicked. Then the house was still once more. Eric sprang out of bed and opened Ills door. There was no light In the transom down the hall. He and Mary breakfasted together. Martha, more mystified than she had ever been In all her life, Informed them that the master and Mrs. Blagden would have their coffee upstairs. Eric had hurried off Immediately nfter that dismal meal. He was bare ly out of sight beyond the hedge at the bottom of the yard, when Horace came down the stairs, meeting Mary' In the hall. "Where has Eric gone?" he demand ed, visibly agitated. His manner was so strange that the girl Involuntarily drew back against the stair rail. ‘‘He—he has—” she Btammered. “Speak! Where has he gone?” In terrupted her uncle sharply. "He has gone to the—the court house, ' Uncle Horace, to give himself—” He did not wait for her to com- > plete the sentence, but turned and as cended the stairs with unusual swlrt- ■ ness. A few minutes later he came | down, attired for the street. As he • passed her In the hall, he said: ( "Your aunt would like you to come up to her for a little while. Mary. I , urn obliged to go out for a short time.” He went down the walk swiftly, his tall llgure as straight as a ramrod, his cane pegging resolutely on the hard gravel path. He left the gate open, an absolutely unique oversight on his part. Such a thing had not huppened In the memory of man. Even Chetwynd had been punctilious about closing the high Iron gate in the wall at the bottom of the yard. But today Horace himself left It wide open as he hurried off In the direction of the city center. Mrs. Blagden did not keep Mary long in the room upstairs. To the girl's sur prise, the shades were up as high as they would go, the lace curtains and the chintz over-hangings were drawn back and caught In loops over the long unused brass hooks at the sides of the windows. The sun streamed Into the room. Her aunt sat by a window, looking Into the yard. As Mary en tered. she turned toward her; holding out her hand. “Come here. Mary.” she said, her voice clear and steady, and full of a rare sweetness. The girl crossed quick ly. “Do you think you can learn to love me? Can you forget the unkind ness—’’ Mary dropped to her knees beside the chair and kissed the delicate hand that had been lifted against her up to this day. 4 "I do not ask you to try to do all this at once.” said Mrs. Blagden. laying the other hand on the dark head at her knee. “Impulsiveness moves yon now. You are sorry for me. You pity me. It will take time to bring about all that I want, all that I crave. See! The sun Is bright. The world Is brighter today than It has been for years. Book at me, Mary. Am I not different? Am I not changed?” The girl looked up and wondered. [ There was color In her aunt's face, I there was life In her eyes. “I—I thought you would be utterly crushed. Aunt Rena.” she murmured. •‘Crushed? Ah. I am nrf happy. I can never be happy, my child. But my mind is at rest. My boy is not wan dering. He Is in heaven. Yes, in heaven, tor his mother's prayers ut tered all through the days of his life cannot have been without avail in tho hour that he stood before his Maker, so suddenly called, so miserably unpre pared. God must have kept account of all my prayers. Chetwynd did not go before Him unheralded, unrepresented. A mother’s love had spoken for hint through all the years.—even through those evil years when he was not what he should have been. And God kept a record of my prayers. Chetwynd Is with God today. Something deep in my soul tells me this. I know it. His sins were paid for in full dur ing that half second of mortal agony while he was falling to the rocks. Did not Eric hear his single cry to God? That one word—‘God’—• that was his prayer, and his salvation. In the 11th hour. If we ask we shall receive. In the final second of life, God's name is our refuge, our hope. He prayed to God in that swift descent, in the half second of life left to him. No, Mary, he is not out there in the Atlantic. He is with Christ in—Ah, my dear, you cannot understand! You do not see it as I see it. But how can you?" A smile of ineffable sweetness illum inated her eyes. “Try to love me, dear. That’s all I ask now," she went on. "I am not asking you to forgive Chetwynd. You have nothing to cherish in the memory of your cousin. I do not expect that of you." "He hated Eric and me," was all that Mary could say. She felt as though she had committed a crime, the instant the words were out. "That word ‘hate’!” cried Mrs. Blagden, with a shiver. “How sweet, how gentle, how tender Is that other word—love! Come, I want you to draw up a chair beside. We will watch for the return of your uncle and Eric. He has gone out to find Eric, to bring him back here before he can do anything rash. See! 1 shall be sitting here in the window where he can see me as he comes up the walk. He is to be our boy now.’ Mary burst into tears. The prom ise of mercy in that brief but signi ficant sentence was more than she could have hoped for. Eric was safe! The Blagdens were great, after all! Mrs. Blagden’s voire, when she spoke again after Mary’s outburst v.as over, was strangely dull and listless. “How long it h; a been. It seems to me that I have sat in these windows for centuries, waiting, watching, al most dreading. And oh, the fear of Adam Carr! The fear of a blood hound!" •TWvm'f A unf r>on.. „ I think about It," came in choked tones from Mary. Her aunt was pensive for a long time, her far-away gaze resting on the rim of blue sky that topped tho trees. "1 hope you uncle is not too late,’’ she said, a sudden weariness In her manner. Mary sprang to her feet. The thought that had been lying dormant in her mind all morning revived with startling force. "Eric may have gone first to Mrs. Payson's house,” she said rapidly. "He tried to find John Payson last night. It was to see about arranging a bond of some sort. Perhaps he Is there now.” "John Payson!” exclaimed Mrs. Blagden, her face stiffening. “Why should he ask anything of that man?” A lump rose In Mary’s throat. She saw red for an Instant. “Because he needs a strong, true friend. Aunt Rena,” she said. “I should think he’d had enough of Adam Carr,” said the other, with a world of meaning In her manner. "I know what you mean,” said Mary patiently. "But It isn’t true—It isn’t true, Aunt Rena.” "Your uncle says—” | "I know what he thinks, If not what he says. Uncle Horace Is wrong. But even If he Is right, why should it mat ter? John Payson can’t help who and what he is. The same God who made all of us made him also. He Is what God mado him, not what Uncle Horace and other try to—" “Hush, Mary. Do not say anything more. I should not have spoken as I did. It was the old rancor cropping out. Your uncle, good man that he is, bears no 111 will toward Jack Payson now. He said as much last night In this very room. Ah, what a change has come over Horace Blagden!" 8he unconsciously gave expression to the great wonder that had been growing In her for days. “When you are married to lilm,” went on Mrs. Blagden, ”we shall be glad to receive him as our nephew, provided he can accept us as we are, not as we were." “Oh, I am sure, Aunt Rena—” began Mary Joyously. “Do not speak for Jack Payson, my dear,” said the older woman calmly. "Let him do that for himself." (Continued next week.t Mr. Walsh’* Worst Offense. From the.Duluth Herald. One reason the report of the United States Industrial commission has been made to fall rather flat, aside from Us di vided character, lies In the campaign against Chairman Walsh that has filled the public prints ever since the commis sion began Its work. Mr. Walsh, tn Ills conduct as chairman was guilty of some excesses, some Indis cretions. Probably he talked too much and too earnestly. But It hard to get away from the be lief that the chief reason for the many bitter attacks upon him Is that In talking, he talked too directly to the point—he had the bad taste to tell too much truth about the Inordinately rich, about the system that enabled them to become inordinately rich, and about the way some of them handle tlietr Inordinate wealth. Mr. Walsh, as a result of his Investiga tions, advocates a limitation on Individual wealth. That In Itself Is cause enough for an avalanche of bitterness. Anybody who proposes a thing like that Is sure to be the object of a torrent of abuse Immedi ately. Yet how Industrial discontent Is to be dissolved so long as it Is possible for & few to get more wealth than Is good for them or good for society. It Is hard to see. A system that produces multi-millionaires, when the existence of multl-mllllonalres Is a standing menace to society and a con stant provocation to agitation. Is bound to produce Industrial discontent, especially when the creation of multl-mllllonalres Inevitably means also the creation of a vast amount of poverty and difficult liv ing for the multitude. Mr. Walsh has made mistakes no doubt; but his greatest mistake, the mistake that has brought htm most of the abuse, was In taking his Job so seriously as to go to the heart of the problem and tell what h* found there. Causa For Joy. Hawker—Buy a flower, sir? Billion—No, thanks. Hawker—Buy one for your wife, sir. Billion—Haven't one. Hawker—For your sweetheart, then. Billion—Haven’t one. either. Hawker—Well, buy one to celebrate your luck. Mrs. Jessie Stillman Taylor, of New York. t>ut now a resident of Munich, has presented to the Bavarian army an ambulance train consisting of a motor car and two trailers. frith Names. Names wld the musical Hit of a troll t« thlm. Names wld a rollickin' swing an’ a roll to them, Names wld a body an’ bones an’ a soul to thlm— Shure, an’ they’re poethry, darllnt asthore! Names wld the smell o’ the praties an’ wheat In thlm. Names wid the odor o' dlllisk an’ peat to thlm. Names wld a lum o’ the turf hanging sweet to thlm— Where can yez bate thlm, the whole wurruld o’er? Brannigan, Flannigan, Milligan, Gllligan, Duffy, McGuffy, Mullarky, Mahone, Rafferty, Rafferty, Connelly, Donnelly, Dooley, O'Hooley, Muldowny, Malone; Maddtgan. Caddigan, Hallahan, Callahan, Fagan, O'Hagan, O’Houlihan Flynn, Shanahan, Ranahan, Fogarty, Hogarty, Kelly, O’Skelly, McGinnis, McGinn. Names wld a fine old Hibernian sheen to thlm, Names wld the dewy shamrock dingin’ green to thlm, Names wl-1 a whiff o’ the honest potheen to thlm— Shure, an’ they’re beautiful, darllnt asthore! Names wld the taste o’ the salt o’ the earth to thlm, Names w!d the warmth o’ the ancisthral hearth to thlm. Names wld the blood o’ the land o’ their birth to thlm— Where can yet bate thlm. the whole wurruld o’er? Brannigan, Flannigan, Milligan, Gllligan, Duffy, McGuffy, Mullarky, Mahone, Rafferty, Lafferty. Connelly, Donnelly, Dooley, O'Hooley, Muldowny, Malone; Maddlgan, Caddigan, Hallahan, Callahan, Fagan, O’Hagan, O’Houlihan, Flynn, Shanahan, Ranahan, Fogarty, Hogarty, Kelly, O’Skelly, McGinnis, McGinn. THE DRAWBACKS OF CHARITY BY RUDOLPE ROnOER^ in a little village in Turkey lived a ong time ago, a man, though own ng a twaut.lu' pieo- of land, --till was ict able to rais-* enough on it lo make loth end- meet. tie siv/ i n1 ref ore, :hat he would have t« do -thing ,‘lse besides farming and, a fiances ft-ie few in the village, he ao... o-t hl-i iroperty and w,nt to a large city. As every stranger, he went to an •nn, hired a room from the handscht ind made himself at home. Every day ae went Into the business part and thought of some business which ho (night start himself, but in the evening Se went home, and over his coffee spoko to his newly made acquaintances of his plans. His friends gave him plenty of advice, but he could And nothing to suit him. One thing was too much trouble, for another business he did not have mon ey enough, and none of them seemed to him absolutely safe. One day as he was walking through the street he passed by a church and saw there a great number of people listening to the sermon of the hod scha. ‘Surely he must preach beau tiful words since so many listen to him today," he thought, and went inside. The hodscha was just telling his list eners how beautiful It was to give away, and how Allah returned In ten fold every zechln given away to the poor. When our man heard this he right away thought that here was a good and safe business for him. "Allah Is a man who is always able to fulfil his obli gations,” he thought, “and no other business gives returns cf a thousand per cent. So he walked out and immediately began to give away his money to the poor, and he kept it up without stop ping for two days, though the inn keeper tried to stop him, and at last ne had no money left. The next day more guests arrived at the inn and the Innkeeper declared that he needed his room for somebody else. But wnere will l go to when you chase me away? Now, the hundschi did not want to incur the wrath of Allah by being hard on a man who had given ail his money to the poor, so he said: "Oh, I will let you sleep on the bench in the coffee room for a few nights." The man was satisfied with this, and slept on his bench there every night for six months. The one day the handschl came to him and said: "My friend, now all my rooms are taken and a merchant wants to sleep on your bench. Besides, it is altogether too narrow for you, but there is a large basket in the yard, the nights are hot and you will be much more com fortable there ” "Maybe you are right,” the man re plied, and from that day slept in the basket for over a year. Then the handschl bought some chick ens and told him that he needed the basket to keep them in. "All right, but where will I sleep then?” the man asked. "Oh, I have already thought of that. The coal cellar is quite large and there is plenty of room for you next to the coal, if you will.” "Certainly, I really never liked the basket." So he now slept in the coal' cellar for two years, all the time bemoaning his miserable lot in life. One morning he crept out, all black in the face from contact with the coal, and went out into the yard, where he sat down on a stone, thoughtlessly dig ging in the sand with his cane. Then suddenly he saw something which glit tered. He picked it up and found that it was a beautiful diamond, and when he hurriedly dug deeper he found an old casket filled with costly jewelry. He picked it all up and ran to a Jewel ry store where he received a large amount of money for it. He hurried back to the coal cellar and counted it and found that it. was just ten times as much as he had given away, not one penny more or less. Happy once more, he paid the land lord, wrapped up the rest of his gold and went to the church. Many people were listening again to the hodscha, who was just preaching on the beauties of charity. "What you give to the poor,” ha said, “Allah will return to you ten fold." "That Is all true," the man shouted. "I know that from my own experience. Allah returns it all tenfold, but there Is something about his ways which may not please all of you. Six months you must sleep on a bench in a coffee house, one year in a basket, and two years in a coal bin. If you want to do that, all well and good; but I for my part have had enough, and wtl} give no more money to the poor." “I really envy Johnson.” "Heavens! man; he's dead.” "I know \ married his widow." EVIDENTLY HAD LOST SAVOI Soldier’s Insinuation Was That Mea Had Been Long in British Army Commissariat. ’’Any complaint?” asked the Bril ish orderly officer of some men wlr i were about to begin dinner in a cei tain barrack room. “Yes, sir,” instantly exclaimed i raw recruit; “the beef an' bacon ii this ’ere Irish 'ash ain't fit for th< likes of us to eat, an’ 1 wish to repor it.” The doctor was sent for to inspec the food. ■ “So you think this meat isn’t fit foi a pan in your position to eat?” saic he. "Allow me to tell you that greatei men than ever you will be have eater it. Even the commander in chiel wasn't above eating it in the Crimea and made many a hearty meal of it.’ "Oh, did ’e?” said our over-nice re cruit. "Yes, he did,” replied the surgeon, “Oh, well,” retorted the man, “it was all very well for the commander in chief, ’cause the meat would be fresh an' good then. You 3ee, sir, it’s a long time since that ’ere Crimea job, and it can't be expected to keep good all these years.” ^ One Species. “What fruits have we ever evolved t from this agitation over our fleet?” “Well, there is the navel orange.” The Wise One. “He is a perfect disciplinarian.” ) "Yep; never gives an order unless - he is dead sure it will be obeyed."— Judge. t ■ ---— i Honest Advice. , ‘Would you advise a young man to go into Wall street?" asked a friend of a successful broker. "Yes,” replied the broker, “I would. I have often advised rich young men , to do that very thing. In fact, that's how I got my money.” Everything is becoming to the noble. i—m Keep Youn^ Just as well be young at seventy as old at fifty. 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Stand ing on the sidewalk he chanced to see a sprinkling cart coming down the street, and no sooner had he set eyes on the thing than he began to laugh like the boy at a minstrel show. “Say, old pal," he remarked hila riously, punching a cop in the ribs, "don’t that just beat all?" “Don’t what beat all?" responded the wondering cop “What’s the joke?” “Just look at that feller on that wagon!” replied the alfalfa party, pointing to the sprinkler. "That denied chump won’t have a drop of water left by the time he gets home!” —Philadelphia Telegraph. When all others fail to please Try Denison’s Coffee. Two Points of View. Husband—What did you take in at four booth in the charity bazaar? Wife—Do you mean how much or bow many? He and She. She—Have you ever read “Lives of the Hunted"? He—No; what’s it about—bache lors?—New York Post. &ick yfcrm&n Qtt&n&OTi Is it possible there is a woman in this country who con tinues to suffer without giving Lydia E. Pinkham’s Vege table Compound a trial after all the evidence that is con tinually being published, which proves beyond contradic tion that this grand old medicine has relieved more suffer ing among women than any other one medicine in the world? We have published in the newspapers of the United States more genuine testimonial letters than have ever been pub lished in the interest of any other medicine for women— and every year we publish many new testimonials, all gen uine and true. Here are three never before published; From Mrs. S. T. Richmond, Providence, R. I. Providence, R. I.—“ For the benefit of women who suffer as I have done I wish to state what Lydia E. Pinkham’s Vegetable Compound has done for me. I did some heavy lifting and the doctor said it caused a displacement. I have always been weak and I overworked after my baby was bom and inflammation set in, then nervous pros tration, from which I did not recover until I had taken Lydia E. Pink ham’s Vegetable Compound. The Compound is my best friend and when I hear of a woman with troubles like mine I try to induce hei to take your medicine.”—Mrs. S. T. Richmond, 84 Progress Avenue. Providence, R.I. From Mrs. Maria Irwin, Peru, N.Y. Peru, N.Y.—■“ Before I took Lydia E. Pinkham’s Vegetable Com pound I was very irregular and had much pain. I had lost thre« children, and felt worn out all the time. ’Inis splendid medicine helped me as nothing else had done, and I am thankful every day that I took it.”—Mrs. Maria Irwin, R.F.D. 1, Peru, N.Y. From Mrs. Jane D. Duncan, W. Quincy, Mass. South Quincy, Mass.—“ The doctor said that I had organic trouble and he doctored me for a long time and I did not get any relief. I 6aw Lydia E. Pinkham’s Vegetable Compound ad vertised and I tried it and found relief before I had finished the first bottle. I continued taking it all through middle life and am now a strong, healthy woman and earn my own living.”—Mrs. Jane I). Duncan, Forest Avenue, West Quincy, Mass. MgStoWrite to LYDIA E. PINS HAM MEDICINE CO. (CONFIDENTIAL) LYNN,MASS.,foradvice. Your letter will be opened, read and answered by a woman and held in strict confidence.