The ♦ +
Sable
HORACE LORCHA
HA'ZELTINE COPYP/G/yT, /9/JZ, a c Arc Cl UPC &. co.
2
SYNOPSIS.
Robert Cameron, capitalist, consults
Philip Clyde, newspaper publisher, re
garding anonymous threatening letters he
has received. The first promises a sample
of the writer’s power on a certain day.
On that day the head is mysteriously cut
from a portrait of Cameron while the lat
ter is in the room.
CHAPTER II.
Rifle Shots Echo In the Woods.
Of conveying even a tithe of the hor
ror I experienced at Cameron’s dis
closure I am nigh hopeless. The more
we discussed the occurrence the less
susceptible it seemed of explanation.
And what is so terrifying as the in
explicable. or so dreadful as the in
tangible? Here, apparently, was an
enemy of calm and cunning malignity,
who chose to manifest his power in a
manner almost ludicrously puerile—
save as it pointed with significant fin
ger to some dire and inevitable sequel
—yet with such crafty secrecy as com
pletely to mystify and dismay.
Cameron showed me the mutilated
portrait. He had taken it down al
most immediately, and had bidden It
away in a closet of the hail behind an
array of raincoats. The cutting had
heea done, evidently, with an exceed
ingly keen blade, and very dexterous
ly done. But that it should have been
accomplished in twelve minutes, while
C ameron sat In the room, not fifteen
feet distant, was beyond our compre
hension. Absorption in his book was
the nearest we came to a solution, and
that was scarcely tenable. For there
was the crowded top of the book
shelves. To cut the canvas, the van
dal must either have stood upon that
or have reared a ladder. There was
not room for the foot of a child on the
shelf-top; and as for the ladder, it was
unthinkable. How could a ladder have
been carried in and out without Cam
eron being conscious of it? From
every possible angle we viewed the in
cident, making every conceivable con
cession, and no half-way plausible an
swer to the riddle presented itself.
And though our common-sense told us
that the time of miracles was long
past, that no Gyges' ring nor Albe
rich’s cloak survived to this day to
make invisible their wearers, there
persisted, nevertheless, a chill, uncan
ny sense of the supernatural, quite
evident to me in Cameron’s hushed
voice and furtive manner, and in my
own unwonted nervous disquietude.
We sat very late. I wished, if pos
sible, to learn if at any time in my
Triend's life he had done aught to en
gender an enmity to which these
strange developments could be traced
—whether, for instance, in the hot
blood of his youth in some far land he
had provoked the vengeance of one
whose humor it is never to forget. As
we talked I came to know Cameron
better than 1 had ever known him be
fore. He bared to me much of his
early career; he gave me a clearer
view of his temperamental qualities;
and yet I could not but feel that he
left the vital point untouched, that be
neath his seeming frankness there lay
hidden, shielded, some one episode,
perhaps, which might let the light in
upon our darkness. For my question
was evaded rather than answered.
Presently, we went back to the let
ters and dissected them, coldly and
critically, sentence by sentence, and
while the weird influence which they
had exerted upon me at the first read
ing increased, stimulated possibly by
the incident of the portrait, still we
reached a certain practical, common
sense view as to the*origin; for we
came to see in them what we be
lieved to be the hand of a religious
fanatic. Certain expressions, we con
cluded, were quotations. If they were
not Biblical, they were certainly of
sacred genesis. And the discovery
was not reassuring. It lent, iDdeed,
an added prick to the perturbation we
already experienced.
Nor did the absence of a specified
date for the second promised demon
stration of power tend to relieve our
uneasiness. In this silence we found
the acme of cunning cruelty. Any day,
at any hour, some other mystifying,
soul-torturing incident was liable to
occur.
1 tried to argue that the seventh day
was implied, inasmuch as the second
note was received on the same day of
the month as the first, and was a mere
continuation of the original threat.
But my contention lacked the intrinsic
strength which carries conyiction.
and, as Cameron put it, we couid only
“watch and wait;” for the communi
cations offered no alternative. They
made no demand which being com
plied with would avert penalty. Only
implacable and inevitable retribution,
►alin, patient, and determined, effused
from every line.
But, in spite of Cameron's evident
anxiety—and in using that term I am
very mildly stating his obvious condi
tion of mind—he sternly refused to
consult either the police or the private
detectives.
"You may not know,” he explained,
“that I am largely interested in a cer
tain line of industrial enterprises, the
shares of which are listed on the New
York Stock Exchange. Should the pub
lic become aware that my life is
threatened, very serious consequences
might ensue in the market. No, Clyde,
whatever is done, must be done by
ourselves, and by friends whom we
can trust absolutely. 1 can take no
risk of this horrid thing getting Into
the newspapers. Besides,” he added,
with a kindly, considerative smile,
“Evelyn must be kept in ignorance.
Not for worlds would I have her trou
bled by our perplexing enigma."
My suggestion that he should go
abroad for a time, or at least spend a
few weeks at Newport, waa met with
almilar obstinate refusal.
“I admit that I have been somewhat
upset by this extraordinary comblna
tlon," was the way he expressed It,
“but lam not a coward. Iam not go
ing to run. Even if I were inclined to
do so, what should I gain? If a man
be not safe in his own house, where in
Heaven's name is he likely to find
safety?”
Quite naturally I was led by this ex
pression to inquire whether, per
chance, he mistrusted any of the many
persons who were employed in the
house and about the estate. But, some
what to my surprise, he was almost
gravely offended by the mere sugges
tion. Nevertheless there were several
features of the afTair, chief of them
the manner in which the letters were
received, which caused me to dwell
with some mental persistence on this
as the most profitable ground for spec
ulation. And when at length, in the
morning’s small hours, I returned to
my home and to my bed, I carried the
thought with me.
The sowing of this seed in the sub
conscious garden of my mind brought
forth fruit after its kind. I awoke
with a perfectly clear understanding
of how that which, the night before,
had seemed so impossible of accom
plishment was, perhaps, after all,
merely a harlequin trick, quite simple
when explained.
With the new day, too, and the
sunlight, and the cheery brightness of
my own rooms, there came a lifting of
that oppressive atmosphere of the eso
teric which at Cameron’s had set my
nerves out of plumb and my reason
on the bias. Indeed I was fully con
vinced that we had been foolishly con
structing an Alpine chain out of a mis
erable, little row of mole hills, and 1
determined to lose' no time in bringing
Cameron, whom I now regarded as
most needlessly alarmed, to my own
wholesome way of thinking.
Directly after breakfast, therefore, I
set forth on foot for my neighbor’s, i
choosing the shore road as the more
direct of the two routes.
Personally, my taste In landscape Is
for distant view in preference to near
at-hand foliage. My own house, which
is fashioned in semblance of a Pom
peiian villa, its cream-white walls I
punctuated with shutters of a some
what vivid pea-green and crowned by
gently sloping roofs of the same
bright color, gazes out across Stam
ford Harbor and the blue waters of
the Sound, to where on clear days the
pencilled outline of Eaton’s Neck
shows purple in the distance. There
are no towering, umbrageous trees to
interrupt the outlook; only low, care
fully-trimmed shrubs, adorning a
series of marble sculpture-dotted ter
races, well below the line of vision.
But the Cameron place, reflecting the
Townsbury penchant for arboriculture,
is quite the reverse. The prospect
from the windows and verandahs of
the fine old mansion is all green vistas
and leafy perspectives, with only a
glint of sun-sparkled waves, chance
caught between gray boles or when
the wind spreads a momentary open
ing in the foliage.
My way to Cameron’s led through a
veritable forest of such luxuriant leaf
age that the path more than half the
time was in twilight, while to right
and left the shadows deepened into
dark in the cloistral recesses of the
woodland heart. The silence was pro
found. No voice of bird nor scurrying
foot of squirrel invaded-the morning
hush of those ramous depths. My own
footsteps on the soft turf returned no
sound.
A half-mile or more I had walked in
this mute greenwood peace, when
sharp and clear there echoed through
the verdurous aisles the crack of a
rifle, and I came to a sudden, involun
tary halt.
Then it occurred to me that it was the
third day of the open season for rail
birds, and that it was the report of a
shot-gun I had heard, fired by some
sportsman, off on the shore, there, to
my right. And so I resumed my tramp,,
with ears keen for a repetition. A1-'
most immediately I was regarded, and
then I knew that it was no rail bird
gunner, for the shot was unmistakably
a rifle shot, and it was fired in the
depth of the wood, to the left of me
Three times more I heard it, in fair
ly rapid succession, and sounding al
ways from about the same direction. I
cannot say that it gave me any un
easiness, but it perplexed me in a mild
way, arousing a passing curiosity as
to its object. And then, 1 came out
upon the well-kept, gravelled drive
which circles the close-cropped, vel
vety Cameron lawn, and catching
sight of Cameron himself, in riding
breeches and puttees, romping with
one of his picturesquely graceful Rus
sian wolf-hounds, promptly forgot all
about it.
He came across the sward to meet
me, the great, gaunt white hound
pressing close to his side, and 1
thought I saw that he, too, had ex
perienced the inspiriting influence of
the morning.
"I have found an answer,” I cried,
while he was still fifty yards away,
"possibly the answer.”
He raised his brows in question, and
the hound, with open jaws, fondled his
wrist.
"I had a horseback ride before
breakfast,” he told me, as he shook
my hand. "Then I spent an hour at
the kennels. We’ve a fine new brood
of collie puppies. You must see them.”
"I want to,” I returned.
“What do you say to tennis?” he
suggested, irrelevantly. "Just a set
It’s a fine morning for tennis.”
“If you can lend me a pair of shoes,”
I consented, glaring down at my boots.
“A dozen pairs,” he smiled. “Come
up to my dressing room. Louis will fit
you out”
I was scarcely prepared for this
change in my friend's mood, and far
from happy over it. He was evidently
determined to ignore the subject that
had so engrossed us the night before,
hoping to find surcease of harassing
thought in a restless round of activi
ties. The condition was a morbid one
which I believed should be discour
aged; the more so as I possessed what
I fancied was a perfectly practical so
lution of that which hitherto had
seemed to us an inexplicable phe
nomenon. And I was a little annoyed,
too, that my good tidings should be
thus disregarded.
When, therefore, we had entered
the hall and Cameron was leading to
wards the broad, ascending staircase,
I paused.
“Do you mind giving me Just a
minute?”
He stopped, turned, and stood in
questioning silence.
“A minute in your study," I added,
in explanation.
Reluctantly, it seemed to me, he
crossed to the study door, and throw
ing it open, stood aside that I might
precede him.
The room appeared far less grim
and gloomy than when I had last en
tered it. Its windows faced the
south; and between the olive-green
tapestry curtains the sun poured in a
flood, lighting up the far corners, glint
ing on the gilt ornaments of the writ
ing table, and bathing in dazzling
splendor the burnished bronzes on the
crowded top of the book-shelves.
“I see you are not disposed to re
sume our discussion of last night,” I
began, when Cameron, having closed
the door behind him, halted just in
side, and with hands in pockets, atvait
ed my opening. “But I want to show
you that we have been in very much
the same position as the wondering
children who watch the prestidigita
teur. We have imagined something
amazingly like a miracle, which, in
point of fact, is capable of a very sim
ple. commonplace explanation.”
“You mean the cutting out of the
head of the portrait?" he asked, with
kindling interest.
“I do.”
“You have discovered how it was
done, before my eyes, so to speak,
and yet—?"
“I have discovered how It may have
been done,” I interrupted.
He moved his head just perceptibly
from side to side in skeptical gesture.
“The door of this room is seldom
locked?” I queried, ignoring the indi
cated skepticism.
“Never locked,” he answered.
“It would be quite possible for any
one, knowing that you were absent,
to spend an hour or so here, uninter
rupted?”
“Any one?” he questioned.
“Any one who had gained entrance
to the house,” I amplified.
“Oh, yes, I presume so.”
“They would have ample time to
clear a space on the book-shelves,
climb up, and carefully cut out the
head, or any part, or the whole of a
portrait, if they were so inclined?"
I paused for his answer, but he only
smiled with a sort of incredulous tol
erance.
"Would they not?" I Insisted. But
Cameron was most perverse this morn
I ing
"My dear Clyde,” he scoffed, “of
what use is all this? The portrait was
cut, not while I was absent, but while
I was present. I saw it complete at
three o’clock; at twelve minutes past
three, it was mutilated.”
“My contention is,” I explained,
quite patiently, “that while you saw
it complete at three o’clock, the cut
had already been made, but the cut
portion had not been removed. In
other words, the cutting having been
deftly done with a thin, sharp knife, it
was perfectly feasible to leave the por
trait apparently intact, though with
the slightest effort the Incised portion
could subsequently be released—with,
say, a piece of cord, glued to the back
for that especial purpose.”
Now that I had made myself clear,
Cameron was quick to acknowledge
the possibility of such a method.
“And the cord, you mean, led down
behind the book-shelves, and perhaps
through a window?” he suggested.
“Precisely. And was pulled by some
one on the outside."
“Yes.” he said, thoughtfully. “Such
an explanation is not unreasonable.
The thing, really, must have been
done in some such way.”
“And don’t you see,” I hurried on
with my advantage, “how utterly
cheap this makes the whole affair?
There's nothing at all impressive in
that performance when you find out
how it was done. If the next demon
stration is no better than such clap
trap, you may rest assured you have
a very picayunish sort of mountebank
villain to deal with. So, cheer up, my
dear man, and I’ll show you a few
tricks at tennis that may be equally
eye-opening.”
Unquestionably my friend appeared
relieved. But I came to fancy later
that the appearance was feigned for
my benefit Certainly he was not con
vinced, and in that proved himself
possessed of an Intuition, a world
more accurate than my own.
CHAPTER III.
The Target.
The set at tennis having finished
with victory perching on my banners,
I made excuse to put off the inspection
of the collie puppies until another
time, resumed my walking boots and,
with a parting if futile admonition to
Cameron to “think no more about it,”
started on my homeward way.
My route lay again through the min
iature forest, for the day had waxed
uncomfortably warm with the ap
proach of noon, and there was scant
shade on the high-road between our
two houses. In the wood, however,
the air was gratefully cool, and I
strode on at a good pace, breathing
deeply and with enjoyment the bosky
odors which greeted me afresh at
every step.
The dead silence which I had re
marked earlier was broken now by the
hoarse tooting of a steamboat whistle,
somewhere ofT shore, and by the shrill
voices of birds, apparently in resent
ful protest at this raucous invasion of
their sylvan quiet.
I bad succeeded in putting aside, for
the moment at least, all thought of
Cameron, his anonymous letters, and
his mutilated portrait, and was dwel
ling on my disappointment at not hav
ing caught even so much as a glimpse
of Evelyn Grayson during my morn
ing visit to Cragholt. It is true that I
had gone there with a single purpose
in mind—to convey to Cameron what
I believed to be an important theory—
but underlying this, I realized now,
was more than a hope, a confidence
even, that I should see Evelyn. I was
tempted, indeed, to a regret that I had
not waited, visited the kennels, and
accepted Cameron’s invitation for
luncheon, which would doubtless have
insured me a few words at least with
my Goddess of Youth.
While on the verge of this self-re
proach my spirits suddenly lifted, for
the steam whistle having died away
in the distance and the feathered
choristers having relapsed into a
pleased chirp that merely accented
the stillness, there broke all at once
on the mute calm of the woodland the
silver sweetness of a girl’s singing.
Clear and resonant it rang through the
forest aisles; a voice I knew beyond
mistaking. Evelyn Grayson was com
ing towards me over the scented turf.
Still hidden by a bend in the path, the
melody alone measured for me her ap
proach. It was a French chanson she
was lilting, a lyric of Baudelaire’s, of
which we were both fond.
Sweet music sweeps me like the sea
Toward my pale star.
Whether the clouds be there or all the
air be free,
I sail afar.
And then she came around the turn.
At first she did not see me, for her
eyes were lifted with her voice, and I
had time to mark the fascinating
grace of her long, free stride, before
she became conscious of my presence
and checked and shortened it. She
wore a frock of white serge, the
skirt’s edge at her ankles, revealing
dainty, snowy buckskin ties and just a
peep of white silk hose. And her
flower-like face looked out through a
frame of Leghorn straw and pink
roses, tied snugly beneath her softly
rounded chin with the filmiest of long,
floating white veils. You can imagine
the picture she made, there in this
green glade, with her big blue eyes
alight with glad surprise, and the
warm blood suddenly risen in her
cheeks.
"You truant!” 1 cried, in jocular rep
rimand. “Are you always going to run
away when I visit Cragholt?”
She pouted prettily. I detest a wom
an who pouts, ordinarily. There is
usually such palpable affectation about
it. But Evelyn’s pouting was winsome
as an infant’s. Besides it was only
momentary. Then her eyes flashed and
her foot was planted very hard, for
such a tiny thing, on the green grass
blades.
“I’m not a truant,” she declared,
with feigned indignation, “and I never
thought of running away. That’s just
your conceited manly imagination.
You fancy that everything I do can
have but one cause, and that is your
self. How, pray, was I to know you
intended paying us a morning call?"
“Tut, tut,” I caught her up. "What
a little spitfire we have here! If you
hadn’t deserted me so shamefully last
evening, I shouldn't have minded this
morning, so much. As it is, it seems
aeons since I saw you.”
Now she smiled until her dimples
nestled. “That is much better,” she
returned, gayly, “and deserves a reply,
just as my action of last evening de
serves praise, and not rebuke. I sac
rificed myself and my pleasure for one
I love.”
_ _*
“Not for me. surely!”
“Did I use the word conceit a mo
ment ago? Are you the only man I
love?”
"I hope so,” I answered, impudently.
“There is another,” she confessed,
in mock tragedy. “Behold his face!”
I had not noticed that she held a
little roll in her hand, for my eyes had
been ever on hers; so, when abruptly,
she spread out and held before me the
missing head from Cameron's portrait,
I was doubly unprepared. I know I
was startled. She said afterwards
that I went very white. I suppose I
did; for with the rush of realization
came such a chain of supposition as to
drive me momentarily dizzy. For a
second or more I stood dumb, while
my hand went out in eager reach for
the scrap of canvas, which, I had ob
served, instantaneously, bore four per
forations, all of a size—the size of a
rifle bullet. With that discovery had
recurred the shots I had heard; and
following this, came a maze of con
jecture, going back to that first letter,
then to the painting's mutilation, and
on through devious ways to the morn
ing’s target practice; and always with
one or another of Cameron’s trusted
servants as the chief actor.
When 1 recovered my composure I
found fevelyn backing wilfully away
from nw covetous hand.
“It is the picture of the man I love,”
she was saying, teasingly. “A very,
very good man.”
“But where did you get It?" I asked
seriously. “Do you know where it
came from?”
Suddenly she was as grave as I
could w'ish.
“I found it nailed to a tree,” she an
swered. “Wasn’t it odd? How do you
suppose it came there? It looks like
the portrait that hung in Uncle
Robert’s study. Do you suppose he
grew to dislike it, and cut it up and
threw it away?”
Now I found myself in some little
embarrassment. If I was to obey
Cameron’s injunction I could not tell
Evelyn the truth. Yet I wras in no
position to make light of her find. On
the other hand I must learn from her
just where she had come upon it, and
so trace, if possible, the person who
had fired the shots which riddled it.
“My dear girl,” I said, adopting a
tone of cajolery, “we have here, I
think, a matter in which we both can
be of service—very valuable service,
indeed, to that beloved uncle and
guardian of yours. But, you must trust
me, absolutely, and, for the present at
least, you must give to him no hint of
what we have in hand. Do you un
derstand?”
nne laugiieu in uiai merry rippling
fashion which I had found not the
least of her charms.
“Do I understand?” she repeated,
laying a hand on my arm in emphasis
of her amused tolerance. “Do I un
derstand? Of course I don’t, and I
shan't, until you have answered at
least a half-dozen whys and wrhats.”
“But you must trust me,” I Insisted,
“and as primary evidence of that trust
you will proceed at once to hand over
to me. for examination, that somewhat
damaged piece of portraiture which
you are holding behind you.”
Very wide her eyes opened in an in
nocent, almost infantile stare, as she
asked:
“Do you really mean it, Philip?”
"Really," I answered, gravely. "I'd
like to tell you all about it, right here
and now, but that might spoil every
thing, so you must show what a strong
womanly woman you, are, by keeping
silence and waiting.” *
In token of compliance she gave
me the oval piece of canvas.
“I wonder who punched the holes
in It!” she remarked, ruefully. “Who
ever it was, they were shockingly dis
respectful.”
I tried to fancy what she would
have said had she known they were
bullet holes. Evidently that possibil
ity had not occurred to her and I was
glad that it had not.
(TO BE CONTINUED.)
From an Australian Diary
JU
Voracious Ants of All Kinds—One
Species that Evinces Fondness
for Sheet Lead.
About noon it got too hot for any
thing and I took a well earned swim
in a secluded creek, amid shoals of
fish, large and small, who apparently
resented my intrusion, from the way
they came and stared at me.
I found on emerging from the water
that a host of blue brown ants had
taken possession of my clothes, and
when they were shaken out they re
venged themselves by biting my bare
feet in a way which was exceedingly
painful.
There are thousands of ants every
where, says a writer in the Gentle
w’oman. Some of the anthills are
three feet high and six feet across—
but except for a sharp nip at the time,
the ordinary ant’s bite is not notice
able. But if a soldier ant or a bull ant
or a green head (an ant about one and
a half inches long, with a green head)
bites you, it is not to be forgotten, be
cause they take quite a big piece out.
Then there are the white ants (not
really ants, but termites), which
cheerfully eat the Inside out of thn
beams of the wooden houses, and re
cently have been eating the sheet lead
on the top of the Sydney museum. The
city fathers thought this was going a
little far, so now the ants are pre- 1
served inside the museum with sam
ples of the half consumed lead as
warning to all who allow their appe
tites to run away with them.
Imprisoned Tailor Strikes.
The latest Australian strike is one
of the Gilbertian order. A prisoner in
Fermantle prison, a tailor by trade,
refused to work on the ground that
it would be contrary to his principles
as a trade unionist. He sent a letter
to the Tailors’ union officially notify
ing it of his action, but that body ex
pressed neither sympathy nor disap
proval, preferring silenoe.
Shield for Searchlights.
Searchlights used to guide vessels
through the Suez canal at night are
prevented from blinding the pilots of
approaching craft by cutting off some
of the rays so as to project a dark
anglo.
GET THIS FOR COLDS
Prescription for Positive Results
Don’t Experiment.
From your druggist get two ounces
of Glycerine and half an ounce of Globs
Pine Compound (Concentrated Pine).
Take these two Ingredients home and
put them into a half pint of good whis
key. Shake well. Take one to two tea
spoonfuls after each meal and at bed
time. Smaller doses to children ac
cording to age." This is said to be the
quickest cough and cold cure known to
the medical profession. Be sure to get
only the genuine Globe Pine Compound
(Concentrated Pine). Each half ounce
bottle comes in a tin screw-top sealed
case. If your druggist is out of stock
he will quickly get it from his whole
sale house. Don't fool with uncertain
mixtures. It is risky. Local druggists
say that for the past six ydars tills has
had a wonderful demand. Published by
the Globe Pharmaceutical laboratories of
Chicago.
Both Vows Broken.
Apropos of the anti-vivisectionists’
fight against the Nobel prize award
to Dr. Alexis Carrel of the Rockefel
ler institute. Prof. Herbert Satterley
said the other day in Jacksonville:
‘These antis contradict themselves
terribly when they try to prove that
animal research is useless and futile.
They just put themselves in the posi
tion of one of their number whom I
met at my hotel the other day.
“As this ariti was dining I bent for
ward and said to him:
" ‘Pardon me, but you are, I believe,
both an anti-vivisectionist and a vege
tarian?”
"Yes, sir, that is correct,’ he an
swered.
“ ‘Then,’ said I, ‘you will probably
be shocked to learn that you have
just eaten a live caterpillar with your
lettuce salad.’ ”
Problem in Physics.
A native of T.. on the coast of Scot
land, when the contract for the build
ing of the first three steamers fitted
with electric lights at the local ship
yard was completed, formed one of
the social party gathered to entertain
the electricians, says Ideas. In a
burst of candor and comradeship, he
was heard to say to one of the wire
men:
“Mon, Peter, efter workin' wi' you
on they boats, I believe I could put in
the electric licht masel', but there's
only one thing that bates me.”
“Aye, aye, Sandy, what is that?"
inquired his interested friend, willing
to help him if it lay in his power.
“Weel, mon," replied Sandy, “it's
juist this: I dinna ken hoo yet get
the ile tae rin alang the wires.”
Its Class.
“That was a raw deal.”
“What was?”
“The plot they cooked up.”
NATURALIZING HIM.
“This man doesn’t seem to knew
about the constitution.”
“But he didn't miss a ball game
last season, judge.”
“Then I guess he's assimilated.”
In the Night Editor’s Room.
“Here's a long story about that
storm on the lake the other day. Want
It cut down?”
“Does it begin, 'The storm beggars
description?’ ”
“Yes.”
“Well, run that, and cut out the de
scription.”
It takes all the fun out of doing a
thing if you get paid for doing it.
“Be on
the jump”
Don’t allow yourself to become
discouraged and “out of sorts.”
The stomach, liver and bowels
have become lazy and inactive,
but a short course of
HOSTETTER’S
STOMACH BITTERS
will soon make things right. It
strengthens the entire “inner
man,” prevents Colds and
Grippe and makes you strong
and vigorous. Try it.
ALCOHOL-3 PER CENT j|
AYegefable Preparation for As -
similating the Food and Regula
totl bng the Stomachs and Bowels of :
iilfmTOjiSHiiiUtUMi
! ---
Promotes Digestion,Cheerful- )
?! nessand Rest Contains neither
Opium.Morphine nor Mineral
Not Xarc otic
< & Peapr o/OU DrSANVClPfTC/fE/l
Pumpkin Scad •
Alx Sanaa * \
i ?. Poe hello Softs -
Anise Sard - I
Pppermial - \
Jvj fiilnrkoaataSedex • /
•S Worm Seed - I
Jf* • Clarified Sugar l
k' 0 ftmftrgrtrn flat or *
cj ---
;j C A perfect Remedy for Conslipa
JjtJ; lion. Sour Stomach,Diarrhoea,1
W'orms,Convulsions.Feverish- j
ness and LOSS OF SLEEP
Facsimile Signature of
•wf
^iiT* The Centaur Company.
& NEW YORK.
K*
N°Guaranteed under the Foodawj
Exact Copy of Wrapper.
OASTORIA
For Infants and Children.
The Kind You Have
Always Bought
Thirty Years
CUSTOM
0<"T*U" COMMIIY, MW VOWK ©IT*.
Surprised Him.
There was a fellow who proposed to
all the girls just for fun. He had no
idea of getting himself engaged, but
he enjoyed the preliminaries. So he
was disagreeably surprised once and
served him right.
“Miss Evelyn,” he said soulfully,
‘do you think you could love me well
eDcugh to be my wife?”
“Yes, darling,” she cried.
“Well—er—now I know where to
come in case 1 should want to marry.”
—Detroit Free Press.
Many a young man is up with the
lark because he kept the lark awake,
all night.
It's a favorite theory of married
women that every widower's heart
should be in the grave.
Bad luck is commonly the result of
bad judgment.
He’s Not a Chicken Fancier.
Speaking of chickens a funny man
writing in Puck says:
“They are the most dadbusted, un
certainest creatures that walk the fam
ily acre. Almost everybody tries to
raise chickens at one time or another.
Looks easy—that's the deceiving part
of it.
"And it is easy after you learn one
thing. Little chickens don’t know
anything, medium sized chickens don’t
know anything. If there is any change
of an intellectual nature as the size
increases the big ones know less, tf
possible, than the little ones.
“If there is a wire partition in your
pen with an open door at one end the
chickens will try to plunge through
the wire instead of going around and
walking through the door.”
It is easier for love to find the way
than it is to pay the way.
LWIUMU I , .enrol rsn WOMEN rrnrn- ibimbmii I
Do Yon Feel Backache or Headache "1 j
__ . ww* * Dragging Down Sensations I
This Way] J
It is because cf some derangement or disease
distinctly feminine. Write Dr. R. V. Piercp’a
Faculty at Invalids’ Hotel, Buffalo, N.Y.
Consultation id free and advice is strictly ini
confidence.
Pr. Pierce’s I?avorite Prescription
restores the health and spirits and removes those
painful symptoms mentioned above. It has been
sold by druggists for over 40 years, in fluid form
at $1.00 per pottle, giving general satisfaction. It™A
now be had in tablet form, as modified by R. V. Pierce, MJ5
f Sold by Medicine Dealers or trialbr, «1_
^""^IZynuJjonroooiptog SOo In
