The Hollow ♦ ♦ ♦
ts> ♦ of Her Hand
^George Barr M°Cutcheon
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SYNOPSIS
Chain* Wraadal! la found tnurd»r*d in ]
a mad n»«a.. bear Near Turk Mr*. VTran
a»l. m mjmiaottrd from the city and lden
t.Ar* lie bud} A young woman who ac
e wfariH Wrandall to ihe tar. and tub- i
•eq jent > disappeared. la suspected.
■Wra .iai « appears liad led a gay life
and neglected ha wife Mrs \Vntndall
•larta bark few New Yurt It. an auto dur- ,
!■* a blinding snow au.rm 08 the way
•We marts a > sing woman In tha road I
WW* yrma to be the woman who killed |
Wlrmndlll. Feeling that ih. gir: ha-1 done
her a service in ridding *-r of the man.
who though the k-ved him deewlv had
«*. .ed lei great a- rr»w Mrs Wrandall
Wieemiws t Shield her and takes her to
her own home
CHAPTER 111—Continued.
Half an hoar later he departed, to
rejoin her at eleven o'clock, when the
reporter* mere to be expected. He
»mm to do all the talking for her.
While he was there. Leslie Wrandall
railed her up on the telephone. Hear
ing bat one *td- of the rather pro
longed conversation, he was filled with j
wonder at the tactful wav *in which
•he met and parried the inevitable
questions and suggestions coming
from her horror-stricken brother in- j
law Without the slightest trace of
oSenstveneas In her manner, she gave
Ls**lie to understand that the final ob
sequies must be conducted in the :
home of bis parents, to whom once
more her husband belonged, and that
abe would abide by all arrangement*
hi* family elected te make Mr. Car
rol ] surmised from the trend of con
versation that joung Wrandall vat
about to leave for the scene of the
trag« dy. and that the bouse was In a
state of unspeakable distress. The
lawyer smiled rather grimly to him
self os he turned to look out of the
window. He did not have to be told
that ChaUis was the idol of the family
and that, so tar as they were con
cerned. be could do no wrong!
After his departure Mrs. Wrandall
gently opened the bedroom door and
was surprised to find the girl wide
awake. resting on one elbow, her star
Ing eyes fastened on the newspaper
that topped the pile on the chair.
Catching -tght of Mrs. Wrandall she
pointed to the paper with a trembling
bond and cried out. in a voice full of
horror
"Lnd yon plan e them there for me to
read* Who was with you in the other
room just now* Was it some one
about the—some one looking for me?
t»p*ak! Please tell me. 1 heard a
awn's voice—"
The other crossed quickly to her
•Me
Don 1 be alarmed. It was my law
yer. There is nothing to fear—at pres- j
* r>t_ Yes. I left the papers there for I
you to see Yoa can ace what a sensa
tion it bos caused. ChaiUs Wrandall
was one of the most widely known
men in New York. But I suppose you
know that without my telling you."
The girl sank back with a groan.
"My clod. what have I done? What
will rode of It all?"
"1 wish 1 could answer .that ques
t) >n. said the oth*-r. taking the girl's j
hand in h-ra. Both were trembling. !
After an instant's hesitation, she laid
her otber hand in the dark, dishevelled
hair of the wild-eyed creature, who
-till continued to f are at the head
St.e» "I am quite sure they will not
look for you here or in my home "
“In your home?”
“You are to go with me. I have
thought it all over. It is the only way.
Com-. I must ask you to pull yourself |
together Get up at once, and dress, j
Here ar- the things yoa are to wear." j
t>h.- indicated the orderly pile of gar- >
dents sub a wave of her hand.
Slowly the girl crept out of bed. con
fused. bewildered, stunned.
Where are my own things? I—I
cannot ac< ept these. Pray give me my
•wn—~
Mrs Wrandall checked her.
You must obey me. If you expect
■w- «■» help you. Don't you understand |
•You Old Not Know He Had a Wife?”
She Cried.
that I have had a—a bereavement? I
cannot wear these things now. They
are useless to me. But we wil) speak
of ail that later on. Come, be quick;
I will help you to dress. First, go to
the telephone and ask them to send a
waiter to—these rooms. We must have
something to eat. Please do ae 1 tell
jou."
Standing before her benefactress,
her lingers fumbling UapotenUy at the
aeck of the night-dress, the girl still
continued to stare dumbly Into the
calm, dark eyes before her.
"Too are so good. I—I—”
"Let me help you." interrupted the
ether, deliberately setting about to re
■mve the night-dress. The girl caught
It up as it slipped from her shoulders,
a warm flush suffusing her face, a
shamed look springing Into her eyes.
"Thank you. I can—get on very
weit 1 only wanted to ask you a
guention. It baa been on my mind,
waking and sleeping. Can you tell me
anything * bout—do you know bis
.Wife
The Question was so abrupt, so start
ling that Mrs. Wrandall uttered a
sharp little cry. For a moment she
could not reply.
“I am so sorry, so desperately sorry
for her.” added the girl plaintively.
“1 know her.” the other managed to
say with an effort.
"If 1 had only known that he had a
wife—" began the girl bitterly, almost
angrily.
Mrs. Wrandall grasped her by the
arm. "You did not know that he had
a wife?” she cried.
The girl's eyes flashed with a sud
den. fierce fire in their depths.
“God In heaven, no! 1 did not know
it until— Oh. I can't speak of it! Why
should I tel! you about It? Why
should you be Interested In hearing
itr
Mrs. Wrandall drew back and re
garded the girl's set, unhappy face.
There was a curious light in her eyes
that escaped the other's notice—a
light that would have puzzled her not
a little.
“But you will tell me—everything—
& little later,” she said, strangely calm.
“Not now. but—before many hours
have passed. First of all, you must
tell me who you are, where you live
—everything except what happened In
Burton's Inn. I don’t want to hear
that at present—perhaps never. Yes,
on second thoughts. I will say never!
You are never to tell me Just what
happened up there, or just what led
up to it. Do you understand? Never!”
The girl stared at her In amaze
ment. “But I—I must tell some one,”
she cried vehemently. "I have a right
to defend myself—”
“I am not asking you to defend your
self.” said Mrs. Wrandall shortly.
Then, as If afraid to remain longer,
she rushed from the room. In the
doorwajr she turned for an Instant to
say: "Do as I told you. Telephone.
Dress as quickly as you can.” She
closed the door swiftly.
Standing in the center of the room,
her hands clenched until the nails cut
the flesh, she said over and over again
to herself: "I don’t want to know! I
don’t want to know!”
a lew minutes later she was critical
ly inspecting the young woman who
came from the bedroom attired in a
street dress that neither of them had
ever donned before. The girl, looking
fresher, prettier and even younger
than when she had seen her last, was
in no way abashed. She seemed to
have accepted the garments and the
situation in the same spirit of resigna
tion and hope; as If she had decided
to make the most of her slim chance
to profit by these amaaing circum
stances.
They eat opposite each other at the
little breakfast table.
Please pour the coffee,” said Mrs.
Wrandall. The waiter had left the
room at her command. The girl’s hand
shook, but she complied without a
word.
"Now you may tell me who you are
and—but wait! You are not to say
anything about what happened at the
inn. Guard your words carefully. I
am not asking for a confession. I do
not care to know what happened there.
It will make It easier for me to protect
you. You may call it conscience.
Keep your big secret to yourself. Not
one word to me. Do you understand?”
"You mean that I am not to reveal,
even to you. the causes which led up
to—”
"Nothing—absolutely nothing," said
Mrs. Wrandall firmly.
“But I cannot permit you to Judge
me, to—well, you might say to acquit
me—without hearing the story. It is so
vital to me.”
"! can judge you without hearing all
of the—the evidence, if that’s what
you mean. Simply answer the ques- !
tlons I shall ask. and nothing more.
There are certain facts I must have
from you if I am to shield you. You
must tell me the truth. I take It you
:tre an English girl. Where do you
live? Who are your friends? Where
is your family?”
The girl s face flushed for an Instant
and then grew pale again.
’’I will tell you the truth,” she said.
“My name Is Hetty Castleton. My fa
ther is Col. Braid Castleton of-of
the British army. My mother ie dead.
•She was Kitty Glynn, at one time a
1 popular music hall performer in Lon
don. She was Irish. She died two
jears ago. My father was a gentle
man. I do noi say he is a gentleman,
for his treatment of my mother re-'
lieves him from that distinction. He
; :s In the far east, China, I think. I
have not seen him in more than five
years. He deserted my mother. That’s
ail there ie to that side of my story. 1
appeared in two or three of the
| musical pieces produced in London
| two seasons ago, in the chorus. I
i never got beyond that, for very good
| reasons. I was known as Hetty Glynn,
j Three weeks ago I started for New
York, sailing from Liverpool. Previ
ous!}' I had served In the capacity of
governess in the family of John Bud
long. a brewer. They had a son, a
young man of twenty. Two months
ago I was dismissed. A California
lady. Mrs. Holcombe, offered me a sit
uation as governess to her two little
girls soon afterward. I was to go to
her home In San Francisco. She pro
vided the money necessary for the
voyage and for other expenses. She
Is still In Europe. I landed in New
York a fortnight ago and, following
her directions, presented myself at a
certain bank—I have the name some
where—where my railroad tickets
were to be in readiness for me, with
further Instructions. They were to
give me twenty-five pounds on the pre
sentation of my letter from Mrs. Hol
combe. They gave me the money and
then handed me a cablegram from
Mrs. Holcombe, notifying me that my
services would not be required. There
was no explanation. Just that.
“On the steamer I met—him. His
deck chair was next to mine. I no
ticed that his name waa Wrandall—
‘C. Wrandall' the card on the chair In
formed me. I—"
"You crossed on the steamer with
him?" Interrupted Mrs. Wrandall
quickly.
“Yes." #
“Had—had you seen him before? In
London?—
“Never. Well, we became acquaint
ed, as people do. He—he was very
handsome and agreeable.” She paused
for a moment to collect herself
"Very handsome and agreeable,"
said the other slowly.
“We got to be very good friends.
There were not many people on board,
and apparently he knew none of them.
It was too cold to stay on deck much
of the time, and It was very rough. He
had one of the splendid suites on
the—”
“Pray omit unnecessary details. You
landed and went—where?”
"He advised me to go to an hotel—
I can’t recall the name. It was rather
an unpleasant place. Then I went to
the bank, as I have stated. After that
"I Am Challls Wrandall’s Wife.”
I did not know what to do. I was
stunned, bewildered. I called him up
on the telephone and—he asked me to
meet him for dinner at a queer little
cafe, far down town. We—"
"And you had no friends, no ac
quaintances here?"
“No. He suggested that I go into
one of the musical shows, saying he
thought he could arrange it with a
manager w ho was a friend. Anything
to tide me over, he said. But I would
not consider it, not for a instant. I
had had enough of the stage. I—I am
really not fitted for it. Besides, I am
qualified—well qualified—to be gov
erness—but that is neither here nor
there. I had some money—perhaps
forty pounds. 1 found lodgings with
some people in Nineteenth street. He
never came there to see me. I can
see plainly now why he argued it
would not be—well, he used the word
‘wise.' But we went occasionally to
dine together. We went about in a
motor—a little red one. He—he told
me he loved me. That was one night
about a week ago. I—"
“I don't care to hear about it,” cried
the other. “No need of that Spare
me the silly side of the story.”
“Silly, madam? In God's name, do
you think it was 6illy to me? Why—
why, I believed him! And, what is
more, I believe that he did love me—
even now I believe it”
“I have no doubt of It” said Mrs.
Wrandall calmly. "You are very pret
ty—and charming.”
“I—I did not know that he had a
wife until—well, until—” She could
not go on.
“Night before last.”
The girl shuddered. Mrs. Wrandall
turned her face away and waited.
“There is nothing more I can tell
you, unless you permit me to tell all,”
the girl resumed after a moment of
hesitation.
Mrs. Wrandall arose.
“I have heaid enough. This after
noon 1 will send my butler with you
to the lodging house in Nineteenth
etreet. He will attend to the removal
of your personal effects to my home,
and you will return with him. It will
be testing fate. Miss Castleton. this
visit to your former abiding place, but
I have decided to give the law its
chance. If you are suspected, a watch
will be set over the house in which
is quite unknown, you will run no risk
in going there openly, nor will I be
taking so great a chance as may ap
pear in offering you a home, for the
time being at least, as companion—or
secretary or whatever we may elect to
call it for the benefit of all inquirers.
Are you willing to run the risk—this
single risk?”
“Perfectly willing,” announced the
other without hesitation. Indeed, her
face brightened. "If they are waiting
there for me, I shall go with them
without a word. I have no means of
expressing my gratitude to you for—”
"There is time enough for that,"
said Mrs. Wrandall quickly. “And if
they, are not there, you will return to
me? You will not desert me now?”
The girl’s eyes grew wide with won
der. “Desert you? Why do you put
it in that way? I don’t understand."
“You will come back to me?” insist
ed the other.
“Yes. Why—why, It means every
thing to me. It means life—more
that, most wonderful friend. Life
isn’t very sweet to me. But the joy
of giving it to you for ever is the dear
est boon I crave. I do give it to you.
It belongs to you. I—I could die for
you."
She dropped to her knees and
pressed her lips to Sara Wran dull’s
hand; hot tears fell upon it.
Mrs. Wrandall laid her free on
the dark, glossy hair and smBett;
smiled warmly for the first time in—
well, in years Bhe might have said to
herself if she had stopped to consider.
“Get up, my dear,” she said gently.
“I shall not ask you to die for mo—if
you do come back. I may be sending
you to your death, as it is, but it is the
chance we must taka A few hours
will tell the tale. Now listen to what
I am about to say—to propose. I otter
you a home, I otter you friendship and
I trust security from the peril that
confronts you. I aek nothing in re
turn, not even a word of gratitude.
You may tell the people at your lodg
ings that I have engaged you as com
panion and that we are to sail for Eu
rope in a week’s time if possible. Now
we must prepare to go to my own
home. You will see to packing my—
that is, our trunks—”
“Oh, it—it must be a dream!" cried
Hetty Castleton, her eyes swimming.
“I can’t believe—” Suddenly she
caught herself up, and tried to smile.
“I don’t see why you do this for me.
I do not deserve—”
“You have done me a service,” said
Mrs. W ran dal 1, her manner so peculiar
that the girl again assumed the stare
of perplexity and wonder that had
been paramount since their meeting;
as if she were on the verge of grasp
ing a great truth.
"What can you mean?"
Sara laid her hands on the girl's
shoulders and looked steadily into the
puzzled eyes for a moment before
speaking.
“My girl,” she said, ever so gently,
”1 shall not ask what your life has
been; I do not care. I shall not ask
for references. You are alone in the
world and you need a friend. I too am
alone. If you will come to me I will
do everything in my power to make
you comfortable and—contented. Per
haps it will be impossible to make you
happy. I promise faithfully to help
you, to shield you, to repay you for the
thing you have done for me. You could
not have fallen into gentler hands
than mine will prove to be. That
much 1 swear to you on my soul, which
is sacred. I bear you no ill-wilL I
have nothing to avenge.”
Hetty drew back, completely mysti
fied.
“Who are you?” she murmured, still
staring.
“I am Challis WrandaU’s wife."
CHAPTER IV.
While the Mob Waited.
The next day but one, in the huge
old-fashioned mansion of the Wran
dalls in lower Fifth avenue, in the
drawing-room directly beneath the
chamber in which Challis wras born,
the impressive but grimly conventional
funeral services were held.
Contrasting sharply with the som
ber, absolutely correct atmosphere of
the gloomy interior was the exterior
display of Joyous curiosity that must
have Jarred severely on the high-bred
sensibilities of the chief mourners, not
to speak of the invited guests who
had been obliged to pass between rows
of gaping bystanders in order to reach
the portals of the house of grief, and
who must have reckoned with extreme
distaste the c.ost of subsequent de
parture. A dozen raucous-voiced po
licemen were employed to keep back
the hundreds that thronged the side
walk and blocked the street. Curiosity
was rampant. Ever since the moment
that the body of Challis Wrandall was
carried into the house of his father, a
motley, varying crowd of people shift
ed re6tles6ly in front of the mansion,
filled with gruesome interest in the ab
solutely unseen, animated by the sly
hope that something sensational might
happen if they waited long enough.
Motor after motor, carriage after
carriage, rolled up to the curb and
emptied its sober-faced, self-conscious
occupants in front of the door with
the great black bow; with each arrival
the crowd eurged forward, and names
were uttered in undertones, passing
from lip to lip until every one in the
street knew that Mr. So-and-So, Mrs.
This-or-That, the What-Do-You-Call
Ems and others of the city’s most ex
clusive but most garishly advertised
society leaders had entered the house
of mourning. It was a great shoto for
the plebeian spectators. Much better
than Miss So-and-So's wedding, said
one woman who had attended the
aforesaid ceremony as a unit In the
well-dressed mob that almost wrecked
the carriages in the desire to see the
terrified bride. Better than a circus,
said a man who held his little daugh
ter above the heads of the crowd so
that she might see the fine lady in a
wild-beast fur. Swellest funeral New
York ever had, remarked another, ex
cepting one ’way back when he was a
kid.
At the corner below stood two pa
trol wagons, also waiting.
Inside the house sat the carefully
selected guests, hushed and stiff and
gratified. (Not because they were at
tending a funeral, but because the oc
casion served to separate them from
the chaff; they were the elect.) It
would be going too far to intimate that
they were proud of themselves, but it
is not stretching it very much to say
that they counted noses with consider
able satisfaction and were glad that
they had not been left out. The real,
high-water mark in New York society
was established at this memorable
function. As one after the other ar
rived and was ushered into the huge
drawing-room, he or she was accorded
a congratulatory look from those al
ready assembled, a tribute returned
with equal amiability. Each one noted
who else was there, and each one said
to himself that at last they really had
something all to themselves. It was
truly a pleasure, a relief, to be able
to do something without being pushed
about by people who didn’t belong bat
thought they did. They sat back—
stiffly, of course—and In utter stillness
confessed that there could be such a
thing as the survival of the fittest.
Yes, there wasn’t a nose there that
couldn’t be counted with perfect se
renity. It was a notable occasion.
Mrs. Wrandall, the elder, had made
out the list She did not consult her
danghtsr-in-law la tbs matter, It Is
true that Sara forestalled her in a way
by sending word, through Leslie, that
she would be pleased if Mrs. Wrandall
would issue invitations to as many of
Challls’ friends as she deemed advis
able. As for herself, she had no wish
in the matter; she would be satisfied
with whatever arrangements the fam
ily cared to make.
It is not to be supposed, from the
foregoing, that Mrs. Wrandall, the
elder, was not stricken to the heart
by the lamentable death of her idol.
He was her Idol. He was her first
born, he was her love-born. He came
to her in the days when she loved her
husband without much thought of re
specting him. She was beginning to
regard him as something more than a
lover when Leslie came, so it wae dif
ferent, When their daughter Vivian
was born, she was plainly annoyed but
wholly respectful. Mr. Wrandall was
no longer the lover; he was her lord
and master. The head of the house of
Wrandall was a person to be looked
up to, to be respected and admired by
her, for he was a very great man, but
he was dear to her only because he
was the father of Challte, the first
born.
In the order of her nature, Challis
therefore was her most dearly beloved,
Vivian the least desired and last in
her affections as well as in sequence.
Strangely enough, the three of them
perfected a curiously significant rec
ord of conjugal endowments. Challis
had always been the wild, wayward,
unrestrained one, and by far the most
lovable; Leslie, almost as good look
ing but with scarcely a noticeable
trace of charm that made his brother
attractive; Vivian, handsome, selfish
and as cheerless as the wind that
blows across the icebergs in the north.
Challis had been born with a widely
enveloping heart and an elastic con
science; Leslie with a brain and a
soul and not much of a heart, as things
go; Vivian with a soul alone, which be
longed to God, after all, and not to
her. Of course she had a heart, but it
was only for the purpose of pumping
blood to remote extremities, and had
nothing whatever to do with anything
so unutterably extraneous as love,
charity or self-sacrifice.
Ae for Mr. Redmond Wrandall he
was a very proper and dignified gentle
man, and old for his years.
It may be seen, or rather surmised,
that if the house of Wrandall had not
been so admirably centered under its
own vine and fig tree, it might have
become divided against itself without
much of an effort.
Mrs. Redmond Wrandall was the
vine and fig tree.
And now the}' had brought her dear
ly beloved son home to her, murdered
and—disgraced. If it had been either
of the others, she could have eaid:
“God’s will be done.” Instead, she
cried out that God had turned against
her.
Leslie had had the bad taste—or
perhaps - it was misfortune—to blurt
out an agonized "I told you so” at a
time when the family was sitting
numb and hushed under the blight of
the first horrid blow. He did not mean
to be unfeeling. It was the truth burst
ing from his unhappy lips.
"I knew Chal would come to this—
I knew it,” he had said. His arm was
about the quivering shoulders of his
mother as he said it.
She looked up. a sob breaking in
her throat. For a long time she looked
into the face of her second son.
"How can you—how dare you say
6uch a thing as that?” she cried,
aghast.
He colored, and drew her closer to
him.
“I—I didn’t mean it,” he faltered.
‘‘You have always taken sides
against him,” began his mother.
“Please, mother,” he cried miser
ably.
“You say this to me now.” she went j
on. “You who are left to take his
place In my affection—why, Leslie, I
—I”
Vivian Interposed. “Lea Is upset,
mamma darling. You know he loved
ChalUs as deeply as any of us loved
him.”
Afterwards the girl said to Leslie
when they were quite alone: "She
will never forgive you for that, l**.
It was a beastly thing to say.”
• He bit his lip, which trembled.
“She’s never cared for me as she cared
for Chal. I’m 6orry if I’ve made it
worse.”
“See here, Leslie, was Chal so—
so—"
"Yes. I meant what I 6aid a while
ago. It was sure to happen to him
one time or another. Sara's had a lot
to put up with.”
“Sara! If she had been the right
sort of a wife, this never would have
happened.”
“After all is said and done, Vivie,
Sara’s in a position to rub it in on us
if she’s of a mind to do 60. She won’t
do it, of course, but—I wonder if she
isn’t gloating, just the same.”
"Haven’t we treated her as one of
us?” demanded she, dabbing her hand
kerchief in her eyes. "Since the wed
ding, I mean. Haven't we been kind
to her?”
"Oh, I think she understands us
perfectly,” said her brother.
"I wonder what she will do now?”
mused Vivian, in that speech casting
her sister-in-law out of her narrow
little world as one would throw aside
a burnt-out match.
"She will profit by experience.” 6aid
he, with some pleasure in a superior
wisdom.
• ••••• •
In Mrs. Wrandall’s sitting room at
j the top of the broad stairway sat the
l family—that is to say, the immediate
| family—a solemn-faced footman in
front of the door that stood fully ajar
‘ so that the occupants might hear the
j words of the minister as they ascend
■ ed. sonorous and precise, from the hall
below. A minister was he who knew
the buttered side of his bread. His
| discourse was to be a beautiful one.
j He stood at the front of the stairs and
He Did Not Mean to Be Unfeeling.
faced the assembled listeners in the
hall, the drawing room and the entre
sol, but his infinitely touching words
went up one flight and lodged.
Sara Wrandall sat a little to the left j
of and behind Mrs. Redmond Wran
dall, about whom were grouped the
three remaining Wrandalls, father, son
and daughter, closely drawn together. I
Well to the fore were Wrandall uncles
and cousins and aunts, and one or two !
carefully chosen blood relations to the
mistress of the house, whose hand
had long been set against kinsmen of
less exalted promise.
(TO BE CONTINUED.^
LONDON FULL OF BEGGARS
Mendicants and' Cadgers Appear in
the Great Metropolis in All
Sorts of Disguises.
There are many professional beg
gars in London, who have their own
copyright methods of extracting coin
from a sympathetic and credulous pub
lic. You may perhaps have come
across the distressed governess, out
of a situation, who asks you in Oxford
street the way to walk to Turnham
Green, and is so staggered at the dis
tance that you ask her to accept the
bus fare.
Then there is the transatlantic
journalist stranded in the metropolis.
He is too proud to seek aid from some
of his millionaire friends at the Cecil,
but if you could?—and perhaps you
do.
Most artistic of all mendicants is
the old lady of grandmotherly appear
ance dressed in black silk. She ie up
in London for the day, and some one
has robbed her of her purse. She has
called on her solicitor, but unfortu
nately he was out. What shall she
do? You give her the train faro and
she promises to send the money on to
you if you will give her your address.
But If you are wise you decline, and
thus escape a shoal of begging let
ters. For addresses of benevolent
persons have a market value among
the cadging fraternity. — London
Chronicle.
Individual or Group.
The words never should be con
nected by a disjunctive conjunction.
The proper word between the nouns
U “and,” not “ok.” The caption above
implies that the terms can be sejiarat
ed. and they cannot The question
was asked the other day if the growth
of group life was destroying the worth
of the individual. The reply was giv
en by a business man who told of a
request that had come to him the day
before for a man to stand at the cen
ter of a big group at a salary that
makes a minister rub his eyes. The
great need of the organized group was
an individual. The two cannot be
sundered. The young man who says
that there is no longer any chance
for- the individual does not know the
facts. Each is necessary to the other.
The proper conjunction is "and.” Get
that into your mind, young man, and
then make good.—The CongregaUonal
1st
Lesson for Humanity.
A varnished frog dies, not because
bodily poisons accumulate in its skin,
but because of overheating. When the
air it breathes becomes warmer than
38 degrees Centigrade, Dr. Vittorio
Puntoni of the University of Bologna
reports that the frog must use its pores
to radiate the extra heat. The Lancet,
discussing his findings, remarks that
disease germs were discovered to
make short work of the varnished ba
trachians. already weakened by swel
tering. The conclusions of Doctor
Puntoni have a practical interest in
their relation to the deleterious effects
of moist, warm climates and the use
of improper clothing, which act by
disturbing the cutaneous function.
Queer.
One queer thing about a woman is
that she will live with and depend
for her living upon a man who is never
able to do anything to suit her.
We never see the worst side of som*
people until we get the better of them.
Won't be misled- Ask for Red Cr hj
Bail Blue. Makes beautiful white cijthe*.
At *11 good grocers. Adv.
A man may be as old as he feels,
but a woman is generally older than
she thinks she looks.
Constipation causes many serious ] v
tases. It is thoroughly cured by Doc! ,r
Pierce’* Pleasant Pellets. One a laxative,
three for cathartic. Adv.
Not Much.
Bess—Do you think much of Jim
mie?
Tees—No; only about twenty-four
hours a day.—Judge.
FACE ITCHED AND BURNED
383 No. Union St., Aurora, 111.— "My
ailment started with a little pimple
and it always itched and burned ter
ribly. I scratched it and in a few
days my face was all covered with
sores. It ran up to my eyes and the
day after I could not see out of my
right eye. 1 was unable to get any
rest. I couldn’t go to bed, being
afraid of getting the clothing all
soiled, although I had my face all
bandaged.
“I was given two jars of salve bus
it kept getting worse. It was some
thing like a running sore because
every time I used \ome of the salve
had to wrap bandages around my
neck to keep the water and pus from
running down my body. I wrote for a
sample of Cuticura Soap and Oint
ment and in a few days I received
these and washed my face with the
Cuticura Soap and put on some Cuti
cura Ointment and the next morning
my face felt cool and somewhat re
lieved. After using the sample I
bought some Cuticura Soap and Oint
ment at the drug store. I followed
this treatment just twenty-six days
and after using one cake of Cuticura
Soap and two boxes of Cuticura Oint
ment I was cured.” (Signed) Oeorga
Miller, Jan. 1, 1913.
Cuticura Soap and Ointment sold
throughout the world. Sample of each
free,with 32-p. Skin Book. Address post
card “Cuticura, Dept. L, Boston.”—Adv.
Butterfly Decoration.
Many artists have employed the but
terfly in decoration, but neither brush
nor crayon is as effective as nature
itself. No imitation, however good,
can do justice to the gorgeous colors
of the tropical butterfly. One might
as well try to reproduce a rainbow in
oils. A most effective novelty—a but
terfly tray—was shown me yesterday
by a charming North side hostess. It
was made on the same principle as
the tapestry tray. A glittering butter
fly, the spread of whose wings must
have been all of ten inches, wa»
mounted on a stalk of milkweed. Th*
pressed butterfly was then covered
with glass and hemetically sealed in
To say that the tray was stunning la
to speak very feebly of its attractive
ness. With this objet d’art as a cen
terpiece a clever hostess could easily
arrange a “butterfly luncheon.”—Chi
cago Inter Ocean.
Pleasant for Preacher.
A mother sent her little daughter
down to open the door and entertain
i the minister, Mr. Black, while she fin
ished dressing. When she appeared
the little kitten ran in ahead of her.
and the tiny maiden jumped up and
| down and screamed at the top of her
roice: “Oh, kitty, kitty, go out. quick."
The mother was horrified, and said:
“Daughter, what makes you act so?"
“Well, mother, dad said la«t night
•that Mr. Black’s sermons were enough
to make a cat sick,’ and I don't want
mine sick.”
He Explains.
“What do you mean by kissing the
housemaid?"
“It was an excusable mistake, my
dear. The hall was dark, and she had
on your face powder and your beauti
ful golden hair.”
Natural Conflict.
“What on earth is all that racket
in the next room about?”
“I guess it is because Kan :;s trying
to put a green bow an her new
orange straw hat."
LIVING ADVERTISEMENT
Clow of Health Speaks for Postum.
It requires no scientific training to
discover whether coffee disagrees or
not.
Simply stop It for a time and use
Postum in place of it, then note the
beneficial effects. The truth will ap
pear.
“Six years ago I was in a very bad
ev?siition,” writes a Tenn. lady. “I
suffered from indigestion, nervous
ness and insomnia.
“I was then an inveterate coffee
drinker, but it was long before I could
be persuaded that it was coffee that
hurt me. Finally I decided to leave it
off a few days and find out the truth.
“The first morning I left off coffee
I had a raging headache, so I decided
I must have something to take the
place of coffee." (The headache was
caused by the reaction of the coffeo
drug—caffeine.)
“Having heard of Postum through a
friend who used it, I bought a package
and tried it I did not like it at first
but after I learned how to make it
right, according to directions on pkg.,
I would not change back to coffee for
anything.
“When I began to use Postum I
weighed only 117 lbs. Now' 1 weigh
170 and as I have not taken any tonic
in that time 1 can only attribute nr
present good health to the use of Pos
tum in place of coffee.
“My husband says I am a living ad
vertisement for Postum."
Name given by the Postum Co. Bat
tle Creek, Mich.
Postum now comes in two forms:
Regular^ Postum — must be well
boiled. 15c and 25c packages.
Instant Postum—is a soluble pow
A teaspoonful dissolves quickly
in a cup of hot water and. with cream
and sugar, makes a delicious bever
age instantly 30c and 50c tins.
The cost per cup of both kind3 is
about the same.
"There’s a Reason” for Postum.
—sold by Grocers.