MRS. W1LHELMY SAVED BY FRIEND Doctor Advised Operation Friend Said Try Lydia E. Pinkham’s Vegetable Compound First Tit. Paul, Minnesota.—"I was all rmv Aa«m from overwork and worry, had no appetite, could not sleep at night, sad l(«oked like e corps*.. I have six children (five bovB and one girl) ana did not get any strength after my last naby was bom. I waa getting worse and thinner everyday. The doc tor said I had to go to the Hospital but this I could not do on account of my family. So I went to * friend of mine and told her what the -doctor had told me and she said, * Now ■do as I tell you. Try Lydia El Pink +am’s Vegetable Compound as I have -done. It helped me.' So I started tak ing the Vegetable Compound and I no ticed after the first few bottles that I felt considerably better. After taking *9 or 10 bottles I got over my fainting ■spells. Everybody who sees me now notices the great improvement in my health. I am gaining in weight and strength and am feeling fine. Eat well and sleep good nights. Any woman can write to me and I will answer her let ter.'*—Mrs. Mary Wilhelmy, 309 Duke Street. St. Paul. Minnesota. Erudition wilt never reach those who are not enamored of it. Itlee Urlildlf Cakes 2 eggs, well beaten 4s to 1 cup sweet milk 2 level teaspoons Calumet Baking Powder 2 tablespoons sugar J cup well cooked rice ‘*4 teaspoon salt Mix Ingredients thoroughly, adding enough Hour to make a medium batter. Make the same us any griddle cakes. A const it lit friend is a thing rare «nd hnrd to find.—Plutarch. omim Say “Bayer Aspirin” INSIST! Unless you see the “Bayer Cross” on .tablets you are not getting the genuine Bayer Aspirin proved safe by millions and prescribed by phy sicians for 24 years. O AccePt onfr a 0^7^ Bayer package which contains proven directions Handy “Bayer” boxes of 12 tablets Also bottles of 24 und 100—Druggists Aspirin Is the trail** murk of llirrr Mann tfacture of Monoucelieaeliteater of Salley Ucacid For babies tortured by chafing or rashes or any of the other skin troubles to which infants and children ore subject, mothers will find that Rcsinol Ointment stands unsurpassed. Doctors and nurses recommend it with ut most confidence because of its harmless ingredients and its success in healing eczema. Stops the itching and burning at once, and hastens the healing. Rcsinol Soap might well be called a toilet soap for babies, because its action is so gentle yet it cleanses so thoroughly. Many mothers have adopted its use exclusively, claiming that it keeps baby’s akin healthy and his hair soft and eilky. Sold by all druggists. ^Resinol 'for over 200 YEARS haarlem oil has been a world wide remedy for kidney, liver and bladder disorders, rheumatism, lumbago and uric acid conditions. correct internal troubles, stimulate vital organs. Three sizes. All druggists. Insist on the original genuine Gold Medal. A BARGAIN Halt section. IS milea from Faith, on graded road, river bench land; about SO acres have bnea plowed, *10 acres tillable, balance paa ' I at re land' abundance of good soft water al la* feet, plenty of outside range. Suitable for cant, alfalfa, flax and small grain. One crop , wlU more than pay for the land. Must turn *tMs half-section at once and will let It go at (<-M per acre. Now la the time to buy leal Weal of (be River, while It Is cheap 1 B. DATIM. FAITH, ft. D. BREEME HOUSE I By Katherine Newlin Burt | 1 "Hut—the sale of the Van Dyke would kill lam! Brceme. And you mean to say that Lord Tremont has accepted Mr. Tremont’s offert" "On the , contrary—1 he’s spurned it!" "Bravo Alee!" she cheered with girlish rest. “That’s the best thing I've known him to do yeti" "I'm afraid, dear Miss Wilton, that Alee will find himself ab solutely forced to accept it, and before long. Certain large pay ments have got to he made, or far worse will befall the House of Breeme than the sale of the Van Dyke." "I cannot believe," said Claire confidently, "that any thing worse can befall the House of Breeme. When Rufus Tre mont takes the Lady Jane, he will rob this place of the soul of Breeme." Sir Geoffrey nodded his head in sympathy. “Mr. Tremont would probably agree to leave the picture in it’s place during the Earl’s life time, ” he added in extenuation of the plan. “Not even the Earl is Breeme itself,” she said simply. '‘Why,” she added on her most challenging note, “T’d pay double its value, myself, just to see it left here—in it its own abiding place.” “They —they wouldn’t permit you to do that, Miss Wilton. That would be—you can see, I’m sure—, only a loan in another form, from Alec’s point of view.” She sighed in desperation, and fixed her eyes upon him, as if beseeching his help. He temporized. “Well; we don’t have to agree to the sacrilege at this moment,” he smiled. “And only in the direst need would I assist at it. AH we can do is to keep hoping; perhaps— who knows— some other way will be found.” “It shall be found,” she echoed. “I’d give my life’s blood to save the Van Dyke f0r Breeme—and Breeme for the Lady Jane. Not one of them— not the Earl nor Alec nor Jane— but should be ready to sacrifice himself for the soul of Breeme. What is their pride in compari son with thatf They shall not sell it, Sir Geoffrey! ’ ’ Sir Geoffrey recalled the argu ment: “You call Hie sale of the Van Dyke a public disgrace! I call the alternative that Lord Tremont contemplates a three fold human sacrifice.” He looked at Claire, her face transfigured with the inspiration of her challenge. “The face,” he thought, “of one who would meet matyrdom for a cause she had at heart:” Sir Geoffrey recalled that Alec Tremont had confided that he had asked Claire to marry him; and she had said ‘no'. “if8 a tangle we can’t un ravel at onee,” he comforted her and himself. Sir Geoffrey wen ded his way homeward, his brow furrowed by a puzzled frown. It was night at Breeme House. Aline Parkes was sleeping peacefuUy. “Aline 1” She sat up quickly. Claire stood by her bedside, with a candle in her hand. Iler red— gold hair hung down on either side of her face. “I heard a sound,” she said. “Someone is moving downstairs in the hall.” “What time is it?” asked Aline. “Half-past one. I heard something creaking along the gallery. I opened my door and listened. There is someone down there in the hall.” Aline was up. “Shall we call someone!” “No; let's explore first. Don t let’s frighten anyone till we’re sure. There’s enough light from outside to show us if anyone is prowling about. Will you come!” Aline nodded, and Claire, in wrapper and slippers, took her arm and led the way. It was like a boarding-school adventure. Aline felt an inclination to laugh. She was not frightened. There were servants within call. They stole along the gallery and a few steps down the stairs. Here there was a window alcove, and Claire drew Aline' into its .**** -****' 'I i shelter. “From here we can see down into the hall,” Claire whispered, “and we can watch the stairs.” “Hush!” said Aline. “Do you hear?” Claire’s heart jumped. She did hear. It was a cautious step. The hall was streaked with dim bands of moonlight. Across one of these passed stealthily a tall figure. They felt rather than saw it approach the stairs. “If it comes up it will pass us,” murmured Aline. “Hush!” The step was coming up. Once or twice it stopped, as though the man were listening. On the turn below them, the figure came out again into the moonlight. Aline gripped Claire’s arm w'ith a start of sur prised relief. The man wTas Rufus Tremont. lie was still m evening dress, but went on stockinged feet. He must have been oid, however, for his shoulders were wet. It was railing out of doors. He held something in his hand. Present ly he turned, and went stealthily across the hall again. “Let’s go back to my room,” Claire whispered. “It looks a little queer to me,” Aline got out slowly, safe in Claire’s bedroom, the re lighted candle in her hand Claire, shivering, looked at her with a puzzled air. Aline’s small face between its masses of fluffy hair was witch-like, its eyes narrow, its lips tight. “I don’t know what to think of it,” said Claire. “Aline, don’t you think it’s just a little rash, having him stay here? What, after all, do they know about the man?” Reason as she might, the seed of suspicion grew. Who was this Rufus Tremont? What was he looking for, tip-toeing about the hall long after midnight like a thief? CHAPTER XVI Circumstantial Evidence It was the day after Claire and Aline’s midnight adventure. Although Claire Wilton’s de parture had been postponed by the urgent need of her during Alec’s convalescence, the Earl of Breeme insisted upon giving in her honor the masquerade he had planned, as soon as Alec was sufficiently recovered. It was to come off this evening. At breakfast Robins announ ced the departure of Rufus Tre mont for London, to arrange about his costume. He was in structed to iuy that Mr. Tre mont would be back in the evening. Claire and Aline ex changed glances, but tacitly de cided to keep their own counsel as to last night’s happening. Claire dressed early for the dance, in order to spend a few quiet minutes in the hall, com tuning with the spirit of the place, and with its best expres sion, the \’an Dyke. She fastened the rude Saxon jewellery absently across her forehead, just noting the effect in the glass as something rather ob viously beautiful. She came along the gallery with the light jingle of her ornaments, and lingeringly down the stairs. The hall below was shining with lights that made an underworld of the polished floor and gave life to the flesh tints of this pained ancestor and that; Van Dyke’s Lady Jane, between her twro blazing chan deliers, reigned supreme for all her timidity. Claire stopped opposite to her on the stairs, remembering with a litle flash of triumph Rufus Tremont’s threat, his boast of “You’re mine! You’re mine!” She had pledged herself to a defence; but, after all, Breeme House was its own defence. She wished that she might have played a part, might have woven herself a little into the web of Lady Jane’s history. It yet might be, if she could find the way... Claire paused, framing her face with both hands as she rested her elbows on the'balus trade. Her face was on a level with Lady Jane’s. She looked as directly as possible into the large, soft, sidelong eyes. As she looked, an uneasy sense of loss possessed her. The picture omehow failed of Its usual impression. It lacked t» spirit, mi essence. It was sud denly a dead thing of paint and canvas. Ciaire was bitterly de pressed. Just uow, when she was trying to realize the charm v acutely, with a poignancy to serve her courage, the charm had failed. The spell was brok en. Lady Jane had lost, subtly, all that radiance of hers. It was as though a blight had fallen on the hall. Claire felt it almost superstitiously. She - was afraid to look around lest the beautiful proportions and time-deepened color of the room might have shrunk and faded to a commonplace. It was like the mysterious transformation of Cinderella’s ball-dress into rags —a withering enchantment. Claire’s eyes actually filled with tears. “Is it in me?” She asked herself. “Have I failed?” llad the perfect happiness of this wonderful visit escaped her? She began bitterly to sense other disillusionments. The shadows that had rested upon the charming group of people under the trees began to interpret itself. The Earl of Breeme was, after all, not “Ye Belted Earl of Ballad Lore,” but a bothered modern land owner, anxious for the worldly future of his children; Alec and Jane and Lady Breeme pre occupied by a care that, to this princess of fairy-story wealth, seemeci sordid to the last de gree. And all their kindness to her, all their gentle hospitality? The musicians began to arrive, grouping themselves near a bank of flowers under the gallery, The sound of their subdued talk and laughter, the clatter of their settling came up to Claire as she watched from Ihe turn of the stair-case. Presently she heard a footstep coming across the hall. She gave a gasp of astonishment.— It was Rufus Tremont! He was in court dress of King Charles, Velvet and lace, buckles of silver, knots of wine:colored ribbon, a plumed hat in his long, brown, supple hand. A sword hung along one lithe hip. The face, framed by Cavalier curls, was strikingly handsome, the eyes idly mocked. He came with his swinging tread along the polished floor, and stopped inevitably before the picture of'Lady Jane. Claire was about to call down to him when he, stepping back a pace or two, looked up at the portrait. Suddenly his eyes ' lifed their gaze from the Van Dyke, to the gallery above, and were flooded with a warmth of devotion. There sprang into his expressive face a flare of triumph and mastery. Claire glanced quickly up at the gallery, where he looked. There stood, backgrounded by dark wainscoting, illumi nated by softly moving candle light, line for line, tint for tint, Van Dyke’s model, charmed with all her silvery brightness into life. Ringlets and scarf, satin-sheeny skirt, blue head band and little slippered feet, fine features and half fright ened air, even the quiverifig, timid pose. It was complete. Claire drew in her breath. There was no disenshantment. here, rather potent witchery; she felt a thrill of superstition. The soul of Lady Jane had left that thing upon the wall, and had entered completely into the warm flesh and blood of her de scendant. Jane turned her shy glance : on the cavalier earl waiting be low. She. too, flushed, her lips bent into their tremulous, sweet, side long smile. “Aru't they,” said Aline who joined Claire a few moments later in the hall, “just too beautiful? There’s something almost uncanny about them, isn't there? He is the missing portrait—the story always had him the handsomest of the line, lias he come back for her, do you think?” The house party began to take possession of the hall, i awaiting the arrival of the guests. Lord Breeme in his wheeled chair, as merry as old Capulet; Alec, looking gaunt and pale in a court jester’s costume, liis head, plastered, evidently not in the humour of the thing; Aline, a slender little Babbie, with red berries in her hair, a high color in her thin face, and eyes unfathom able. They danced and laughed and amused themselves with the few visitors staying at Breeme House for the occasion, admiring costumes and ex . changing banter and compli , ...outs. But Claire could not enter In to the spirit of it. She had never in her life suffered more acutely, but it was a nameless, indefinable suffering, perhaps more like the child’s sorrow over its beautiful pricked bubble than any other human grief. Its poignancy was out of proportion to its cause. Suddenly her mood of melan choly was broken by a noisy crash and a loud outcry. “The Van Dyke! Oh, my God! The Van Dyke!” Robins had dropped a tray of refreshments in the middle of the hall, and had lifted a pale, distracted face to Van Dyke’s Lady Jane. Dancing and music stopped. Everyona turned to where the old man pointed. Lord Breeme, pushing his chair out from the wall, and looking up, shook his finger at the servant. “Man alive, what’s the matter with you?” said he. Robins began a cofused, half taarfnl Vmhhlo Mr. rremont will bear me out, your lordship. *Twas him I showed it to. ’Twas him that said he’d noticed it himself. Is ;that the picture I’ve looked every day of my life and loved like my ow? Shouldn’t I be the man to know it? Oh your lordship, this is a sad thing indeed for the house, your lord ship. A sad thing!” Here Rufus Tremont laid a hand on Robin’s shoulder. “Look here, my friend, what are you talking about?” said he. “What’s wrong with the Van Dyke?” “Oh, sir! You remember that shadow-like of a dog’s head on the skirt? Look sharp I I ask you, is that portrait it’s real self in any way at all?” Claire watched in keen sus pense. She saw Rufus fling up his chin, his face stiffen and pale into a look that might have been one of fear. “It must be the effect of the light,” he stammered. “No, sir—no, sir I It’s not only the shadow. Look at that hand, look at the eyes. Your lordship—” He turned piteous ly to Lord Breeme, pleading his point. “Shouldn’t I know the Van Dyke? In the real pic ture—” Lord Breem half raised him self with a keen look of alarm. “The real picture, Robins? Do you mean—?” He fell back. There was a babel of conjecture, curiosity, alarm- Questions went off like little pistol shots. (TO BE CONTINUED) Do One Thing Weil. From the Baltimore Sun. JIow pleasant It would seem to be an authority on the sciences, Inter national politics, political economy and the arts, and also to shine as a star In the movies, In baseball, In football ar.d in the Olympics! It might be pleasant, but it wouldn’t be possible. It just isn't done. Consider the rose. If left undis turbed in the garden, it will become a great bush and form a great num ber of buds; but though the soil be rich and the moisture plentiful, there never will be a prize rose on the bush. The roots can provide so ilium iiuti iiu muic. xx uiudi feed half a hundred blossoms, the face of each will be scant. But If the bush is cut away, so that the roots may devote the whole of their energy to the business of perfecting a dozen blossoms, these will rival Jewels. The orchardlst does not go among his trees and pick away the green fruit in an effort to keep down pro duction. He does it because de crease of numbers means Increase of size. And the fancier does not select the runts in a litter of 12 pups and destroy them to hold the canine pop ulation in check. He sacrifices them to make life more abundant for those that are privileged to live. It always works that way. Where there are many they are lean. You never hear of famine In a land where neighbors are far apart. In the little while man remains on this pleasant round ball he may learn to do one thing well, but he can’t learn to do everything. There isn’t time. If your acquaintance knows a little about everything, it isn’t prob able that lie knows all about any thing. It is no disgrace to be ignorant concerning the fauna of Patagonia if you can beat the world at the business of filling a tooth. And world-beaters do not develop by scattering their energies. Most of them are single-barrel chaps. ■■ ■ « -a. --— Among The Dead Ones. From The Bos Angeles Times. Delvers for the Marshall Field Mu. aeum are said to have uncovered th / palace of the first King of Babylon while digging amid the ruins of ancient IClsh. They are not absolutely certain as to the gentleman's name or his license number, but there is a pictured frieze around the base of the wall In the throne room that confirms the an tiquarians in their suspicions that they were on the trail of the earliest ruler of our most ancient known em pire. The incidents depicted happen ed all of 6000 years ago, or about the time that Methuselah was suffering from second childhood. The Shovel eta are digging up so much of the past that nobody is safe. To reach the highest efficiency at a low cost. Germany is using smaller en gines driven by compressed air instead of building giant locomotives for rail roads. The small types are used for •witching purposes. __ U. 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