Nebraska Newspapers

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Fnatat otr- a otranca- try arte provea
to be FTteo iMXim Sm«nlror. Iranrtna
aa.tta t.ia Mb T>* rrorral <*!»■-<-vrra
I rtartst lore* A!:» and ratra t* a
>*««—toe from bin tint te aril not intrr
frr* trtarea tte Ctrl and Ftora 1>aa
«aa» cor* to Italy as art-retary to Ttetro
CHAPTER XII.
The Mother of a Pnnce.
The walls of tbe palace at Ancona
dropped to the sea. against th«n tbe
*i>« danced Oat on the blue wa
ter la* a fleet of fishing boats, and the
*iU flapped tors ntlt and tbe sun
light cleared oa battered bulls and
fettered decks The woman who sat
b-. an open window of tbe palace ,
poshed the black tra:: ng of her gown J
fro* her. as tf the acmbrrnese hurt
her eyes. ate Laid her bead acainst
the window frame and stared at the
term loaatd save* and the fishing
fleet
it may be oar only hope of escape ■
“—thane wretched boats." she said, half
stood and her Mae eye* were fall of
Sadness almost of hopelessness
A ssiand caaght her ear. and she lift
ed her head quickly. The door into
tfee nest room was partly open and
aaaue one moved three, that *as all
She turned. Use line* of her figure
faffing mit tote a n.Hanciwly pose
~Tfee doctor takes a kmc time." she
•poke, and (aped oat once more to tbe
water
There bad bees a spirited young
fed years before who had romped in
the gardens at Malmaiaon. who had
Sed the laugh ter * fetch echoed through
thane avenues of lime and plantain
whew sweetness and vtrncity had
dr so* the Scare of Napoleon himself
te-o tbe wore* of gladness which was
her atmosphere. Always brightness
sowed to follow her throagh the en
rtiT'Biew of tbe place; always she
neemed to more la gaiety. Today, or.
a Xarrh morning of lfcM. this was she
Tbs daughter of Fr»ic« she bad
W»i, (W cnees at Holland and now
far f<an am ealle. Hw» 111. a fugi
tree. fa her nephew* palace at Ac
e»a. with the Austrian* at the cate
at (W city. aha wared is aruuetv al
more intense than sto could bear
tkt word at the doctor aa to ber son
Ft*' bar* before, at Farit, her older
bw bad died, and ber sore heart
fatrred with a itcfafax throb aa she
thowght at fhm other—Louis—now ber
eniy child. lying 13 the roots beyond
la a hurt fever. IQ with the disease
with which bis brother had fallen. A
a anna's seal might weQ be over
crowded with such sorrow and such
fear bat there was more Her two
hot* had thrown .a their lot shortly
fa"are with 'be Italian revolutionists
and bud fought, and had distinguished
themselves. And now that the revo
hubs at the Romagna was a failure,
that the Austrian army was advanc
teg ttrlortoMly. now that death had
takes the older to safety, the younger
—Loots—the is valid lad la the room
fa*> usd was ta imminent danger. He
was excepted from the general am
■efay the natural wars of escape
were dosed, far the authorities of
twnai and at Fa :*Ireland had let
lw know that the Krtsce would not be
Je-rmhfad hi those territories. From
(fame too at her sob's socles. Cardl
bal Feoch and K.iig Jerome Lad sent
word that if he were tabes by the
Austrian* he waa fast. And at the
faoo ml wheo Hortense had decided to
Barry her hoy ofl to Turkey by way
fa Corfu, aa Austrian fleet appeared
da the Adriatic
la such s critical state were the
■flairs of the Muck-go* ned woman
■mho gaaed from the palace windows
to the oea The doctor was with her
aoo The hoy 's condition seemed to
her OO better, hot worse than the day
before she waited an official verdict
The door opened and she looked up as
• tall nu came ta.
'Uetut" she stammered and
■topped—she feared to ash.
'Tour majesty.' the old man said
gravely. 'I grieve u> be the bearer
of hod news'
“He Is worse. Hector?" The words
came with a gasp, she felt that she
could Ufa toco more trouble.
'Tea. foot Majesty, the fever has
terreased din** jesUrdiy. With his
pooch and strength we may hope—If
he Is carefully nursed but to move
hits would i» madness "
Queen Hortense struck her bands
together. What can 1 do? What can
I do?~ she demanded, and the doctor
fauj gravely regarding her. helpless,
muh all his devotion to the house of
Bou&porte. to suggest u way out. "If
he stays to wUl to taken—they will
him. If be goes be will die
on tfa- way." she cried in aa agony
fa it <11 rislnti 'Doctor, tell »«. think
lor me Woo can I save him?"
and the doctor still stood silent,
owfleriag with tbs impotent desire to
fa-ip her 'If—If only the Austrian*
might think that the Prince were
pose." to stammered, and hated him
Poll Mr the Mflttjr of the word*. Bal
^MKYKVmOM) 5/HPMAN ANDREWS m
ILLUSTRATIONS 6y ILLSVDRTH YOUN<r~ —
OOA>n?/G#r/9S2 BY BOBBO HEA/t/LL CO
•h» Queen stood with a hand half j '
I** .*d. arrested. Her blue eyes were ■
a! if with the crossing and weaving 1
of swift ideas, and then with a catch j
f her breath she laughed at him '
Lin pleased child “Doctor, you are J
a very clever man." she said. "To
gether we are going to save the j
Prince." j i
Tie vivacity of the schoolgirl of
Madame de ram pan flashed for a mo i
men* into her manner, w armed to sud
den life by the joy of hope. The doc- 1
tor w-a:t*d. enchanted, bewildered, to
h*ar h;s . ieverfceas explained, but Hor
tens* d.d always the unexpected thing.
' I'm not going to tell you." she said,
least not till I have to—not till
tomorrow at all events. But all today,
as you visit your patients you may
think that you are saving the Prince
from his enem.ee—and tomorrow- you
may know how- Goodby. Doctor." and
l>uzz)ed and pleased, the physician
Send Frit* to me.” the Queen or- ,
iered. and a moment later the young
nan »ho was for years the confiden
ts! servant of Hortense. who knew
Tore of the history of her middle
ears, perhaps, than any other, stood
jefore her. •Fritz, when does a packet
tail for Corfu?" she demanded.
Fritz Rirkenbach considered it his
iiuiBMf to know everything. “To
night," your Majesty.”
You will see that the luggage of
Prince Louis is on board, and that a
-artiage is ready to take him there.” ]
she ordered.
“But yes. your Majesty." Fritz still j
reood regarding her seriously. "It is
i great happiness to me. your Majesty,
hat his Highness is well enough to j
ravel.”
Fritz knew perfectly that there was
i complication somewhere, and he
»anted to know what it was. His
•uriosity was patent, but his deep in- 1
terect In the affairs of his people !
'paid not be an impertinence, and the ;
Jueen smiled at him.
“You shall know about It. Fritz,"
the said. "The Austrians are com- I
.ng. The Prince can not be moved
If they take him. it means death. They
must believe that he is gone, and it
is for you and me to make them be
lieve it. Fritz. You must get a pass
port signed by all of the authorities—
that is easy today; you must engage
hi* place in the packet for tonight;
rou must tell the servants—tell every
ane -that the Prince goes to Corfu,
and you must see that the proper lug
eage is on board It will be known
•hat 1 stay, but they will not molest
as ill woman. Do you understand the
plan. Fritz?”
"But yes. your Majesty,” Fritz an
swered with his face alight.
And so the packet sailed for Corfu,
and all day before the sailing the
servants of Hortenee moved busily
between the palace and the boat, car
ry mg luggage and making arrange
meats And only one or two knew
the secret that Prince Louis Bonaparte
had not sailed in the packet but lay
towing with fever in a little room
beyond his mother s, carried there for
greater privacy by f#r.z and the doc
tor.
Two days later, as the Queen sat!
quietly by her boy’s bedside, she heard
that ’he vanguard of the Austrians
had entered the city, and almost at
once Fritz came to tell her that the
palae- in which she was staying had
b«-en chosen for the residence of the
general commanding. The probability
of this bad not entered her mind; it
seemed the last straw. The Austrian
officer demanded the Queen's own
chamber for his chief, but when the
stewards wife told him the name of
'he lady who was in the rooms which
had not been given up. he bowed deep
ly and said not - word. It was another
r~ ■' '<■ . .... i
Franco^ Wa» on His Knee by the
Bedside.
j of that brotherhood scattered over Eu
rope—the friends of Hortense; it was
. an officer who had protected her years
j before at Dijon.
i*o for a week they lived side by
I sid-- w ith their enemies and only a
j ft-m feet lay between the Prince and
I capture, for his room was next that
of the Austrian general, with but a
. double door between. It was a life
of momentary anxiety, for the Queen
feared each time the invalid spoke
'hat' they might recognize a man’s
voice; when he coughed she turned
white. But at the end of the week
touts was at last well enough to go.
He was to leave Ancona disguised as
on*' of his mother’s lackeys, the young
Marquis Zappi was to put on another
livery, and over the frontier they were
both to change and be the sons of
Hcrtense traveling on the English
man’s passport.
CHAPTER XIII.
The Ruse.
The day before the escape, as the
Prince, weak and 111 yet^ lay In bed.
*ord was brought that a messenger ]
>f the marquis wished to see the :
iueen.
“Let me see him too. my mother.”
he silent, grave young man begged.
'It may be that I can help you. 1
vish to help."
In a moment Fritz introduced a
‘light alert person whose delicate face
»as made remarkable by a pair of
■yes large and brilliant and full of |
.isionary shadows, yet alive with Are.
>ne saw first those uncommon eyes
md then the man. If they had not
>een entirely concerned with his mes
sage they might have remarked that
le trembled as he looked at the
Prince's face; that his voice shook as
te answered the Queen's question.
"I have the unhappiness, your Maj
esty. to bring you bad news," he said,
speaking to her. but still gazing ea
terly at the Prince. “The Marquis
Zappl, my employer, is ill. He was
aken suddenly last night, and today
is much worse, and there is no chance
:hat he can travel with your Majesty
tomorrow.”
1 ae yueen threw out her hands witn
i gesture of hopelessness. “What can
ae do?" she exclaimed. “Am 1 to plan
ind plan and have always an uncon
querable obstacle? Can I not save
my boy? I might have known that
everything seemed too bright thla
morning, too good to be true. Yet It
is not possible that after all they
should"—she looked at her son; her
courage came springing back. "They
shall not take you," and her eyes
Sashed defiance at a world of enemies,
and she went over and threw her arm
about his neck. “Louis, don't let your
self be excited, dearest. They shall
not take you. I can save you.'*
It was as if she put a spur to her
brain: there was a moment's silence
and the two lads watched her brows
drawing together under the concentra
tion of her brain.
"Of course." she said suddenly, and
laughed—a spontaneous laughter
which seemed to flood her with youth
fulness. She turned her blue glance
swiftly on the newcomer, the slender
boy with the luminous eyes. “You are
in the employ of the Marquis Zappl
monsieur?"
“But yes, your majesty. I am the
secretary of Monsieur le Marquis"
She paused a second, seemed to take
stock of the young man. of his looks,
his bearing, his accent.
"You are French. Have you a sym
pathy with the family of my son. with
the Bonapartes?"
It was as if a door had been opened
into a furnace, eo «he eyes blaxed.
“Your majesty. I would give my life
for his highness," he said quietly. The
impassive face of the young prince
turned toward the speaker, and the
half-shut heavy glance, which had the
Napoleonic gift of holding a picture,
rested on him attentively, Louis Bona
parte seemed to remember something
“What is your name, monsieur?" he
asked, and It might have been noticed
that his head lifted a little from the
pillow as he waited for the answer.
"Francois Beaupre, sire.” The young
man seemed to he out of breath.
"Sire!" Louis Napoleon repeated. And
then. “I have seen you before. Where
was it? Not in Rome—not in Switxer
land—ah!” His hand flew out. and
with that Francois was on his knee by
the bedside, and had kissed the out
stretched thin fingers, and the prince's
other hand was on his shoulder fra
ternally.
“The old chateau of Vieques—my
playfellow, Francois. I told you then
1 was going to remember, didn't 1?"
Louis Napoleon demanded, laughing
boyishly. “Mother, he saved my life
from the falling wall. Do you remem
ber the story of my runaway trip?”
And Hortense. smiling, delighted to
see her sad-faced boy so pleased and
exhilarated, did remember, and was
gracious and grateful to the young
Frenchman, "it Is a good omen to
have you come to us today." she said
with all the dazzling charm which she
knew how to throw into a sentence.
And then, eager with the headlong
zest of a hunter for the game, she
caught the thread which wove into the
pattern of her scheming. "You would
risk something to save him, would
you not? You will take the place of
the marquis and travel with us. tomor
row, and help me carry away the
prince to safety?”
The dark young face was pale,
i “Your majesty. It Is a happiness 1 had
not dared to hope for yet."
“Yet?” the prince demanded laconic
ally. He saved words always, this lad,
but he always said his thought.
The other boy's face' turned to him,
1 and he answered 'very simply, “^Jut
1 >es, your highness. I have known &1
i ways that I should have a part in your
highness' fate.”
In the gray dawn of the next morn
ing there w as a slight stir through the
palace, and out between the lines of
drowsy Austrian sentinels passed a
procession of whose true character
they were far from aware, else history
had changed. The guard watched the
departure; the sick lady—Hortense—
late queen, of Holland, as they all
knew more or less clearly, drove away
slowly in her traveling caleche, and on
the box* was a young man in the liv
ery of a groom whom no one of the
half-awake soldiers knew for Prince
Louis Napoleon; in the middle oi
the second carriage sat another youth
of two or three years younger who
was, the queen's servants had been
told, the Marquis Zappi. Their pass
ports were examined and they wenl
through the gates of the city -wlthoul
awakening the least suspicion.
Not once it all their dramatic series
of escapes and disguises were Hor
tense and her sous betrayed, but the?
had to fear the indiscretion of theii
friends more than the malignity ol
their enemies, and this part of Italy
was full of friends high and low.
At length it was time tor Princt
Louis and the sham marquis to drop
their liveries and* travel as the son*
of the English woman for whom their
passport was made out. The clothes
which Beaupre was to wear had be
longed to the young man dead at Forli
—Louis Bonaparte's brother—and as
he presented himself dressed in them,
he saw the painful flush which crept
upon the prince's face.
"Your highness. I am sorry." he
stammered. “It is grief to me.” And !
then he threw himself impulsively on
his knees by the side of Louis' chair.
"My prince. I wear them with rever
ence.” he said, and then, hesitating, he
added: "Perhaps 1 ^vould seem less
unworthy if your highness knew that,
mere secretary as 1 am. 1 atn yet more.
I am noble. It is not simple Francois
Beaupre whom you honor, but a man
created chevalier by the sword of the
emperor."
The dull eyes of the prince shot a
glance between drooping lids. "What
is it you mean, monsieur?" he de
manded. But at the moment the queen
entered the room, and the lads sprang
f. .
There Was a Hubbub of Voices.
to thetr feet. Her eyes caught the
picture of the young Frenchman in his
new dress -at once; they opened wide
and then filled with tears.
"Louis. Louis!” she cried, and laid
her hand on his arm. “He looks like
him: he looks like Napoleon!”
A deferential knock sounded at the
door. Francois sprang to it. and the
i landlord stood in the opening, bowing
elaborately—a soldiery old man with
thick gnarled hair.
"A thousand pardons for disturbing
miladi and the messieurs,” and miladi
smiled forgiveness. "Might an old
soldier of the emperor dare to say that
one could not help knowing the em
peror's kinsmen?" He bowed low
again to both boys alike, and again
Hotienee smiled at him. It was com
forting to know that the two seemed
brothers to the world in general, ar.d
she was so used to recognition and
loyalty now that they appeared to be
long together. "Might an old soldier
of the emperor dare to show miladi—
her majesty—and the highnesses, the
sword which the emperor himself had
touched, the sword which he. Jean
Gredin, an old cuirassier of the guard,
had carried in four battles? There
was a little story of the sword, a story
also of the wonderful goodness of the
emperor, which miladi—her majesty—
permitting, he would like to teil to her.
as also to the highnesses.”
And. her majesty permitting, and
the boys pleased and interested, the
old cavalryman brought the sword and
drew it from its sheath and gave it to
each of them to handle, and called on
them to remark how it was as keen
and bright as it had ever been at Ulm
or Austerlitz. He cleared his throat,
strongly, for the tale.
"Miladi—her majesty—permitting.”
he began, "it was on a day two days
after the great battle of Austerlitz.
The country, as her majesty and the
highnesses will remember, was in a
most dangi rous condition. Desperate
bands—” Why was it the landlord
stopped?
The party, caught by the fervor of
his manner, stared at him, annoyed as
the tale of the emperor, promising so
well, halted at its beginning. The
man stood as if drawn to his tiptoes,
every muscle tehse, his head turned
toward the doorway, listening.
And suddenly they were aware of a
stir, a growing noise; there were gal
loping horses; there was a jingle of
harness, and voices coming nearer.
With a step backward the landlord
flashed a glance from under bushy
brows down the corridor, through the
open door at the end. which gave on
the court of the Inn.
"Mon dieu!” He faced the three,
standing startled. He spoke fast and
low. "Madame, it is a squad of Aus
trian soldiers; they are upon us. What
can we do?" He hesitated only a sec
ond. "Bleu-bleu—my horse—saddled
under the tree yonder—if one of the
princes—if the prince—” He glanced
uncertainly from one lad to the other.
But the game was out of his hands.
Quicker hands than his had caught the
play. Francois Beaupre, the saber of
the old cavalryman gleaming, in his
grasp, sprang to the doorway.
"It is monsieur there who is the
prince,” he explained rapidly to the
landlord. "Hide him, take care of him
—I will draw them away. When they
are gone, see that the prince and the
queen escape. That is for you; you
are responsible.”
There was the rush of a flying figure
down the hallway, and out Francois
flashed across a broken line of a dozen
dismounted riders, straight toward the
landlord’s horse held by a groom un
der the trees. There was a shock ol
startled silence a3 the impetuous ap
parition, saber gleaming at wrist, shot
across the court. Then, there was a
hubbub of voices, and a mass of uni
formed figures fell toward him as he
threw himself on the horse. A sol
dier caught at the bridle. The naked
sword twinkled and the man was un
der Bleu-bleu's feet. For a second
there was a vortex of men and a fran
tic horse, and riding the storm a buoy
ant figure of fury, flashing a blade,
with infinite swiftness, this way and
that. Then horse and lad shot out
from the living canvas, streaked the
background of trees a second and were
gone, and the Austrian troopers scram
bled into their saddles to follow.
Through sun-spotted, breeze-tossed
woods tore the chase; across a road
and over a low fence, and still Fran
cois led. but the heavy horses gained.
It was a hopeless hunt, for the land
lord's mount was no match for the
big cavalry horses, yet the rider's
light weight and clever horsemanship
counted, and it was fully four miles
from the inn when Bleu-bleu stumbled
and fell at a ditch, and Francois
pitched over his head. His lead was
short by now. and they were on him
in a moment, in a mass; he was seized
by a dozer, burly Austrians.
The leader took a sharp look at him
as he stood panting, staring defiantly.
"What is this?" the Austrian de
manded sternly, and wheeled to a
trooper in a bunch. "Friedrich, thou
knowest the cub of the Bonapartes. Is
this lad he?”
i
Atyd Friedrich lunged forward, gasp
ing. for he had run his horse hard, and
shook his head. "No. my captain. 1
have never seen this one."
The boy looked from one to anoth
er of the threatening group, smiling,
composed in spite of his quick breath
ing. The captain took a step close to
him and shook his fist in his face.
"You have fooled us, you young
game-cock, have you? But wait. Do
you know what we will do to you. you
bantam of a Frenchman? Do you know
how we w ill treat you for th.s, we Aus
trians?"
Color deepened In his cheeks, and
Francois drew up his figure magnifi
cently.
"You may do what you like. Mes
sieurs." he said gaily. "It is for you;
my part is done. The prince is safe.”
CHAPTER XIV.
After Five Year*.
The window of the cell was small,
but it was low enough so that a man
standing could see from It the vast
sky and the sea-line six miles away,
and. by leaning close to the bars, the :
hill that sloped down into wooded ,
country; beyond that the sand of the
shore. The jailer stood close by the j
little window in the stormy sunset for
a better light as he dropped the medi
cine.
"One—two." he counted the drops
carefully up to nine, and then glanced
at the prisoner on his cot in the cor
| ner. who tossed, and talked rapidly
dlsjointedly. "It is high time that the
| doctor saw him," the jailer spoke, jialf
! aloud. " If the governor had been here
I this would not have been allowed to j
run on. I am glad the governor is j
coming back."*
With that the prisoner threw off the |
cover from his shoulders and sat up
suddenly, with wild bright eyes star
' ing at the jailer.
""PietroV he called in astonishment. !
' "Why. mv dear old Pietro!" and flung
out his hands eagerly toward the man.
and would have sprung from the bed
• to" him.
But the jailer was at his side and
held him down, yet gently. “Be quiet.
| signor.” he said respectfully. “It is
only old Battista: you will see if you
lock. Only Battista, who has taken
care of you these five years.”
The brilliant dark eyes stared at
him hungrily; then with a sigh the
light went out of them and the head
fell on the pillow.
"Ah. Battista." he said, "my good
Battista." A smile full of a subtle
charm made the worn face bright. He
VALUE OF PROPER SPELLING
Attribute Highly Valued In Commer
cial Life, and le a Sense to
Be Developed.
Good spelling and intelligent punc
tuation are the accomplishments that
keep many gray-haired women draw
ing good salaries as stenographers in
downtown offices. The manager of a
typewriting office from which are sent
hundreds of stenographers makes no
secret of the fact that good spellers
are scarce.
"We had a customer come in the
other day.” said the manager, “who
had evidently had a run of hard luck
in the spelling line. He wanted a
woman who could spell. ‘No matter
if she’s cross-eyed and has a hunch
on her back.’ he said, ‘if she can spell
and write an intelligent letter.’ While
this was a rather extreme case it
shows that employers are beginning
to grow impatient over the careless
spelling of today.”
Another office sending out many ste
nographers has a series of test letters
prepared especially with spelling
catches for the unwary. Common
words, famous as pitfalls for careless
spellers, are strewn throughout these
specimen lettera Fully half the ap
plicants put an extra e in separate;
in many cases the e before the last
syllable in noticeable is missing, while
the correct placing of the l's in the
! word parallel reduces many of the
applicants to a state of discourage
ment.
“Good spelling is a pretty sure sign
of mental alertness." said a business
man with several offices and many
stenographers. “I find that if one of
our stenographers Is naturally a good
speller she is interested in the cor
rect spelling and use of new words
that come to her attention in reading
or in dictation. Now as a matter of
fact it is no small job to keep up with
the spelling of the hundreds of new
words.
“Our oldest stenographer and out
best speller keeps on her desk a lit
tle book not more than an inch thick,
but it has more first aids to poor spell
ers than anything I’ve ever seen. She
doesn’t use it much, but everybody
else does."—Chicago Record-Herald.
“Rabbit Drives” Advocated.
The western farmer dislikes the
coyote, and a bounty is offered for
its pelt; the result is that the coyotes
have greatly diminished.. But. says
the Portland Oregonian, the killing of
the coyotes has resulted in a great
increase of rabbits; many experi
ments have been made to diminish
their number by inoculating them with
disease, but without satisfactory re
sults. Rabbit ‘‘drives’’ are the only
sure remedy; 16,000 jack rabbits were
killed In one county in Oregon in
this way last winter.
i spoke slowly. “I thought it was my
friend—my best friend.” he explained
gently.
"Will the signor take the doctor'*
medicine?” Battista asked tfcr-n, not
much noticing the words, for the sick
man was clearly light-headed, yet with
a certain pleasant throb of memory
which always moved within him at the
name of Pietro. It happened that the
name stood for some one dear to the
jailer also. The signor took the medi
cine at once, like a good child.
"Will it make me better, do you
think. Battista?” he asked earnestly.
"But yes, signor; the doctor i*
clever”.
"I want to be better; I must get
well, for I have work to do as soon
as I come out of prison.”
“Surely, signor. That will be soon
now. I think, for It is five years; they
will let you go soon, I believe.” Bat
tista lied kindly.
“You are good to me. Battista," the
boy said, "and Just now you gave me
a great pleasure. It warms me yet to
think of it. for. you see. I thought you
were Pietro—my dear Pietro—the
Marquis Zappi."
Battista, breathless, stared, stam
mered. "Whom—whom did you eay,
signor?”
But the prisoner had flashed into
reason. The color went out of his face
as the tide ebbs. "Battista, did I say
a name? Battista—you will not betray
me—you will not repeat that name? 1
would never have said it but that I
was not quite steady. I must have
been out of my head; I have never
spoken his name before in this place,
j Oh. if I should bring danger to him!
Battista, for God's sake, you will not
i repeat that name?”
Battista spoke low. glancing at the
heavy iron door of the cell. "God for
bid. signor." he whispered, "that 1
should speak, here in his own castle*
the name of my young master."
There was a long silence. The pris
oner and his Jailer gazed at each other
as If saying things beyond words.
Then the boy put out his long hot fin
gers and caught the man's sleeve.
"Battista." he murmured. "Battista
—is that true? Is it possible? Do you
know—my Pietro?"
rvuow mm. signor: Battistas deep
voice teas unsteady. "'My fathers have
served his for eight hundred years."
The man was shaking with a loyalty
long pent up, but Francois lifted hie
head, leaned on his elbow, and looked
at him thoughtfully.
"But, Battista. 1 know you now; he
has spoken to me of you; it was vout
son. the little Battista, who was his
body-servant when they were chil
dren?”
"Yes, signor.”
“I did not dream of it; I never knew
what castle this was; I'never dreamed
of Castleforte; you would not tell me."
”1 could not. signor. It was forbid
den. It is forbidden. I am risking
my life every minute.”
"Go. Battista." and Francois pushed
him away with weak hands. "Go quick
ly—you have been here too long.
There might be suspicion. I could not
live if I brought trouble on you.”
•‘It is right so far. signor.” Battista
answered. "It is known you are ill;
I must care for the sick ones a littla
But I had better go now.”
With that he slipped to his knees
and lifted the feverish hands to his
lips. "The friend of my young mas
ter.” he said simply, but his voice
broke on the words. The traditional
faithfulness of centuries was strong in
Battista: the Zappis had been good
masters; one had been cared for and
contented always; one was terrorized
and ground down by these "Austrian
swine;” the memory of the old mas
ters. the personality of anyone con
nected with them, was sacred. Battis
ta bowed his head over the hands In
his own. then he stood up.
"I shall be back at bedtime, signor.*
he said quietly, and was gone.
<TO BE CONTINUED.)
IS CHILD CROSS
Look. Mother! If tongue is
coated, give “California
Syrup of Figs.”
Children love this “fruit laxative,"
and nothing else cleanses, the tender
; stomach, liver and bowels so nicely.
A child simply will not stop playing
■ to empty the bowels, and the result is
they become tightly clogged with
waste, liver gets sluggish, stomach
sours, then your little one becomes
cross, half-sick, feverish, don't eat,
sleep or act naturally, breath* is bad,
system full of cold, has sore throat,
stomach-ache or diarrhoea. Listen,
Mother! See if tongue is coated, then
give a teaspoonful of “California
Syrup of Figs.” and in a few hours all
the constipated waste, sour bile and
undigested food passes out of the sys
tem. and you have a well child again.
Millions of mothers give "California
Syrug of Figs” because it is perfectly
harmless; children love it, and it nev
er fails to act on the stomach, liver
and bowels.
Ask at the store for a 50-cent bottle
of “California Syrup of Figs," which
has full directions for babies, children
of all ages and for grown-ups plainly
printed on the bottle. Adv.
We know from experience how good
a mac feels after paying his debts.
Dr. Pierce's Pleasant Pellets cure con
stipatkm. Constipation is the cause ot
many diseases. Cure the cause and you
cure the disease. Easy to take. Adv.
Poverty makes it easy to live the
| simple life.
*>o thoughtful person uses liquid blue. It's ■
ytnchcf bluem a large bottle of water. Ask for
led Croat Bell Blue, the blue that's all bl ue. Adv
It’s easier for love to find the way
than t is for dad to pay the bills.
FREE ADVICE
TO SICK WOMEN
Thousands Have Been Helped
By Common Sense
Suggestions.
Women suffering from any form of
female ills are invited to communicate
\ promptly with the
/woman’s private
\ correspondence de
/ partment of the Ly
I diaE.PinkhamMed
I icine Co., Lynn,
) Mass. Your letter
' will be opened, read
1 and answered by a
T.'tEk s fInxhXm woman and held in
strict confidence. A woman can freely
talk of her private illness to a woman ;
tons has been eet*Wished a confidential
correspondence wuich has extended over
many years and which has never been
broken. Never have they published a
testimonial or used a letter without the
written consent of the writer, and never
has the Company allowed these confi
dential letters to get out of their pos
session, as the hundreds of thousands
of them in their files will attest.
Out of the vast voiume of experience
which they have to draw from, it is more
than possible that they possess the very
knowledge needed in your case. Noth
ing is asked in return except your good
will, and their advice has helped thou
sands. Surely any woman, rich or poor,
should be glad to take advantage of this
generous offer of assistance. Address
Lydia E. Pinkham Medicine Co., (con
fidential) Lynn, Mass.
Every woman ought to have
Lydia E. Pinkham’s SO-page
Text Book. It is not a book for
general distribution, as it is too
expensive. It is free and only
obtainable by mail. Write for
it today.
Rheumatic
Twinges
yield immediately to Sloan’s Lin
iment. It relieves aching and
swollen parts instantly. Reduces
inflammation and quiets that agon
izing pain. Don’t rub—it pene
trates.
SLOANS
LINIMENT
Kills Pain
gives quick relief from chest and
throat affections. Have yon tried
Sloan’s? Here's what others say:
Relief from Rheumatism
**My mother has used one 60c. bottle
of Sloan's Liniment, and although she
is over 83 years of ace. she has ob
tained (treat relief from her rheuma
tism."—JNea R- R LindrUaf, Gilroy, CmL
Good for Cold and Croup
“A little boy next door had croup. I
irsve the mother Sloan's Liniment to
try. She (rare him three drops on soger
before going to bed. and he got up with
out the croup in the morning "—Mr. IT.
B. Strange, 3711 Elnucood Ava., Chicago, 10.
Neuralgia Gone
Sloan's Liniment is the best medi
cine in the world. It has relieved mo
of neuralgia. Those pains have all gone
and I can truly say your Liniment did
sto^them/C. Jtf. Do+kmr of Johan*
At an Dealers. Prtee 25c.. 50c. A $1.00
Sloan** Instructive Booklet «f
Horse* sent fre«.
DR. CARl S. SLOAN, lac, BOSTON, BASS.
□03337
I Best Cou*h Syrup. Tsaies Good. Uac |
in tim*. Sold by Druggists.