Grand Rapids Herald-Review Newspaper, April 2, 1898, Page 6

8 FOR He YOR THE SECRET pOr A LONELY HOUSE. R IV—(Continued.) “And your will is to pos: yourself of her fortune—eh? nid = Fergus, vatching his friend from under his pent-house brows. “But how about me I cannot allow you to forget my claims, Mordant, for, in the event of your » ing the girl, I shall have no The CHAPT further interest in the proper five hundred a year I have for her mainte ome consideration, you | know. It means two thousand pounds out of my pocket if you marry her b fore she is of age. And I must have good Jump sum if I am to assist you.” “I have not forgotten. You need give yourself no trouble on that head. 1t is to my interest to work on the square with you,” he observed, quietly. “Yes, you are right. It would never do for friends to fall out—esvecial when they have worked so long togeth- er—eh, Mardant?” The other affected not to hear the eynicism in his friend’s voice. He walked on with his hands behind his back. nd his bright, dark eyes fixed »ground. At length he spok “It will be to your interest, Fergus to aid me in this. The old debt still r S, you know.” “I know nothing of the sort,” re- | turned Ff s Thunder, with sudden resentment flashing from his eyes. “We have neither of us a clean record, Don't let us cros: wor Mordant. We have both our own secrets to con- cecal.” “Hh, truly; but yours a veritable banshee,” sneered Mordant, eyeing his friend askance, “An uncomfortable Jack-in-the-box sort of difficulty ndy to pop up at an inconven- ient time, and confront you.” “Plague take you, Mordant, you're in an evil mood to-day. Can't you let sleeping dogs lie?” Not when it’s to my interest to v e them up for defensive purposes,” said Mordant, recovering his temper, the other we wroth. “When De: rolles is under ground a great many dange and complications will be at an end: but, until then, Fergus, until that much-desired event occurs, we shall have to pull together for weal or woe. Ha, ha!’ he laughed, enigmat- i » “we are both in the same boat, Fergus, both in the same boat, and a prec leaky concern it is getting. How much has our expensive friend frawn from the geveral purse this year, eh, Fergus?” “Up to the middle of this month? Well, 1 am not sure that it is not eight hundred pounds. Eight hundred pounds in less than three months! It is O- lutely ruinous!” exclaimed Fergus, fretfull “And we, like toads unde: harrow, and have to grin and bear it. “Do toads grin when under the har- drily. row?’ questioned Mordant, “Really, now, it is interesting to they take it so philosoph Iw saying, a great © s might be averted i s rolles were under ground. A pity we ever let him get away with so portable and yaluable a commod the knowledge of a crime, eh, the “Yes, an infinite pit acquiescec sardonically. “It would have could we have foreseen how things turned out—so easy, ‘so safe to have removed him from our path, and thrown the onus of the guilt upon him. Dead men tell no tales, and if he didn’t deserve hanging, he will some day. A to keep us paying hush-money for of twelve year: rved Mor thin lips a peculiar he looked death! smile curving at his friend. “Siny> your wife You would have been a wealt but for this drain upen your pur: Fergus had turned absolutely 1 “Don't talk to me like that! Hayen’t T lived a living death for years, and all to keep our secret? How should we have kept that fellow’s tongue quiet all these yez I hadn't found some means of satisfying his ruinous claims? You are as much or more in- terested in his continued silence than 1 am. Why do you always taunt me?’ “f{ am not taunting you, cnly it’s no good trying to deceive oneself. To re- turn to the primary object un dis- ion: It will not do to let this girl, Pansy Vereker, out of sight. She n not be allowed to form any friendships or make any acquajntances, or we shall lose all control over her and her mon- ay” is safe enough here,” rgus. “But if you think ’'m gojnlg to aid and abet you in pe ing ler to mar you, you a much mistake! When she is of a you can do as you please; but, b mind that, until she is one-and-twe I shall be in the receipt of five hun- -dred a r for her maintenance; and I think you will admit that, all things | considered, I’m not in a pos' throw away a handsome income. ou faith does not seem to have been strengthened by our long friend- ship,” remarked Mordant, cynically; but still I think you might trust me to give you your fair share of the proper- ty thus secured to me. However, if you have no such confidence, I can but repeat that it is unalterably my inten- ; tion to make Pansy Vereker my wife, and thus pl her whole worldly goods at m. posal.” “And if I her guardian, refuse my consent, youll have no option but to until she is of age,” said Fergus, “I am master of the situation, and I intend to remain so, Mor- dant. “Pshaw!” exclaimed Mordant, con- temptuou “You are not su Fergus, to stand in my wa indeed, you have ulterior motives your- seif. But that game would be a bit too risky—eh, old friend?” “{ have no ulterior motivés,” re- sponded Fergus Thunder, sullenly, evi- dently understanding the covert threat in his companion’s words. “But we aust come to a practical understanding about this business, Mordant, or I will not aid and abet you to do that which i ip direct onvosition to my own inter- man | ests. Hush! Here is this child, Elsie. Well, what do you want?’ The girl made as though she would spring past them, but Mordant caught her firmly by the shoulder. “Stop! Where are you going to, you fool?” he said, sternly. “Have you lost ongue?” 0, no,” she said, wincing under the pressure of his hand. She tried to falter some words, but, | glancing into Mordant’s forbidding face, she began to laugh nervously, and burst into tears, “Go, you mad fool!” he said, angrily, releasing her, and turning to Ferg! with a shrug of his massive shoulders. “One would think you had been ill- | treated.” She needed no second bidding, but sped away, and was soon lost to sight y a turn in the angle of the path. “She gets worse daily—hourly,” said Fergus, taking a pinch of snuff, witha thoughtful face. “But it is better that that she should be so, for, if her rea- make some awful revelations. As it is, she is physically incapable of re- taining an impression. She knows nothing, therefore, can impart noth- ing. But we must keep her from at- taching herself to Pansy. But for Sa- lome, I don’t know how we should manage.” “No; she is invaluable in her way,” admitted Mordant, a cynical smile curving his lips. “You see, she is old enough to know to the full the incon- ‘venience of being found out.” Fergus walked on impatiently, with knitted brows, and Mordant, keeping pace with him, continued: oney to enable her to marry the man of her choice was the bargain she Hay ha! a chip of the ‘thy daughter of so as- tute a father.” He paused to laugh sardonically, and Fergus, striding along the moss-grawn path, ground his teeth in impotent rage. “And she has had to stick to her bargain, though the seurvy fellow played her false. A bad bargain for her, truly, but one of her own making. And then, she has the money—she stuck to that, like a sensi- ble, hard-headed girl as she is! Oh! Salome is a woman—aye, is a woman in a thousand!” “A plague on your sarcasms, Mor- dant! I hate you in these caustic moods. People who live in houses shouldn’t throw stones.” “I am aware of that truism—I have heard it before. But when the mis- siles are so ready to one’s hand, and the glass houses of other people so temptingly conspicuous, one can scarcely be expected to retain so nat- ural a propensity.” it not, Fergus? old block. Ww glass CHAPTER V. The monotonous days passed dreari- ly enough. Pansy Vereker had been a week at Black Tarn, and began to find her life there almost unsupportable. ‘There was no change in the daily, dull routine; no visitors called; nothing happened. Since that first night Pansy had seen little of her cousin Elsie; indeed, the girl seemed strenuously to avoid her. | Gradually Salome ceased to watch age, and under ordinary circumstances » likely to become friendly) should ike up an acquaintance. At all haz- ards, she was determined to keep them apart; but by degrees, Elsie’s | evident avoidance of the new-comer, and her wild and vacant manner, al- layed Salome’s watchful vigilance. “There is nothing to fear,” she said, contemptuously, watching Elsie car- the moted sunbeams that pierced the murky glass of the case- ment window, and fell slantwise upon the dusty floor. “Look at her. She has not the intelligence of a child of three years old.” “Possibly not,” said her father; “but one cannot be too careful. Where is the other girl? “She is writing to her friend at ) Twicken am,” observed Salome, with | a dry smile. “It amuses her and is a harmless recreation, for the letters are never posted.” “No; quite right; we don’t want any further communication from that any other quarter. letters are suppressed, are they I let her have the first on t she should suspect any interven- | tion on our part; but that shall be the last she will receive,” said Salome, | whose natural disposition predisposed | her to the office of jailer. “I shall have | to go into the village with you morning, father; but Mordant ill keep his eye on the girls, and I have locked the entrance to the West Wing, so no one can gain access there in my absence.” ‘Must you go? Is it imperative? I never feel easy when we are both away together,” said Fergus, doubt- fully. “True, Mordant is here, but he is so preoccupied one can scarcely de- pend upon him. By the way, Salome, ; he has made up his mind to marry |; Philippa; and I never knew him to set his mind upon anything, without he ultimately possessed himself of his fancy.” “Marry Philippa!’ exclaimed Salome, in surprise. “Absurd! Of what is the man thinking? Why, she positively abhors him!” “Yes; no doubt she does; but that is | of little consequence, Salome, if he has made up his mind to have her and her money. I was disposed, at first, to re- sent it, but, on mature consideration, perhaps it is the best thing that can happen. You see, Mordant is preparec to place a large sum at my disposal when he is married to Philippa in com- pensation for the large sum I shall lose when she is no longer under my guardianship.” Salome’s face grew harder as, she ; listened. | { | { ! i | ! ! son were to return to her, she would | ! } struck with us to keep her secret, was | lest these two girls (so nearly of an j{ This woman (Fen- ; “He has talked you over into this thing, so, father; but a bird in the hand is worth two in the bush. You ean extract nothing but a promise from Mordant; and what is that worth ?—nothing, if he chose to dispute = “Pshaw, child!’ exclaimed Fergus, angrily. “I can really attend to my own business without any assistance from you!” “Can you, father?’ said Salome, smiling, bitterly. “Could you have dis- pensed with my services during the past twelve years?” “There, you are flying off at a tan gent, just like Mordant did the other i day, and reproaching me with the past, when you are both—yes, both, Salome!”—with a stamp that made the crazy casements rattle—‘as much im- plicated as I am—nay, more, infinitely 2 3 “In legal terms, I suppose he, Mor- dant, was an accessory before the fact, and I am an accessory after the fact—eh, father?” She did not wait for an answer— probably because she deemed it likely to be profane—but ran up the broad oak staircase to her bed room. She need into Pan room as she | | passed. The girl was writing by the open window. “Are you going out?’ she asked. “I have almost finished my letter. Will | you post it for me?” “Yes; bring it to my room Ww am ready. I shall be away quite short time. By the way, have you seen Elsie to-day?” { o,” said Pansy, carelessly, ad-! ing her letter. “I hardly ever sev | her except at breakfast or dinner. She seems to get wilder every day.” “Yes. She is a great trouble to us. It would be far better had she died as a child. How will you amuse yourself during my absence?—not that I shall | be away long.” Pansy looked demurely at her rela- tive, whom she had grown to regard as a jailer. “IT must repair my dress; I tore it yesterday getting over the stile into the paddock. Don’t trouble yourself about me; I shall manage to pass the time.” i Salome left her, somewhat disarmed; | but when Pansy had watched the gig | turn out of the broad entrance gates, | she sprang up, and actually danced in ' the exuberance of her relief. i “Now, thank goodne: I shall be’ able to go on a voyage of discovery! | I’m positively dying to look over this | horrible old dungeon!” | She left her room and stood listening intently. Not a sound broke the still- | ness. “Where was Mordant Cain?” she wondered; and then she recollect- | ed that she had seen him cross the neglected park towa the open coun- try but an hour before. | “He will not return for hours,” she thought; “and perhaps in my perigin- | ations, I shall find Elsie, poor child. I | well know why she has avoided me | lately—just to throw dust in their ey She descended the stairs, with r newed confidence, and opened a door leading out of the square old hall. Within she found a spacious, though | low-pitched apartment, panelled with | carved oak. The furniture had orig- | inally been handsome, but the dust of ages lay upon all; the silken curtains, ; the oil paintings in their quaint, mas: | ive frames, the once costly upholstery of the furniture, had all faded to a aull, neutral tint of dust and decay. The girl shuddered with a strange depression, and softly closed the door behind her as she stole aw: lest the untoward sound should wake some ghostly echoes of the past. This was, as she judged, the dining room. There were many rooms on the ground floor, all equally dull, dusty and depressing. At length she stepped into the | drawing room, after fighting a hard battle with the key in the rusty lock. The room was large and stately, lighted by four’ large windows, which were almost overgrown by masses of ivy, | thereby reducing thé apartment to a state of semi-twilight. The velvet-piled carpet was gray with dust, and the damp, earthy smell that assailed Pansy he crossed the | room made her feel sick with a sexse | of suffocation. At the farther end of | , of the room she saw an antique | grand piano, and, being passionate! fond of music, she felt unable to re: an inclination to run her fingers over the k s. The keys were stiff with long disuse, and at first Pansy’s fin- gers faltered as she touched the notes. “What if Mordant Cain were to re- turn and find her thus engaged?” she thought, glancing, startled, behind he: across the dim and ghostly room. Little by little she forgot her fears, the volume of sound grew and in- tensified under her flying fingers. The piano, though old, had been a costly one in its day, and even yet, desnite damp and disuse, the tone was fine and sonorous. As her fingers lingered tenderly upon the closing notes of a passionate German song, she was startled at the sound of a man’s yoice close to her: “Philippa, your music has given me great pleasure. Yours is no mere | school-girl performance. Nay, go on! I would hear more.” Pansy turned toward the intruder with wide, startled eyes. “I—I did not know anyone was lis- tening—was in the house,” she fal- tered, and attempted to rise. But Mordant Cain laid his hand on her shoulder. “Do not go—I wish to hear more!” he said, with such decisive authority that she felt compelled to comply. Mechanically her fingers returned to the keys. She tried to play something | at his bidding, but felt utterly un-, nerved, and played with neither feel- ing nor confidence. “T am playing very badly,” she mur- | mured, apologetically, as she rose from the piano, and glanced into the pale, sinister face of Mordant, which would still have been handsome but for the disfiguring scar that so grievously marred it. “I think I must be out of practice.” “No, you are nervous. Afraid of be- ing found here without Salome’s ner- mission, are you not?” he said, with a hard smile. “But I will absolve you, since you have afforded me pleasure, to which I have long been a stranger.” “I am glad to give you any pleas- ure,” said Pansy, stiffly, feeling resent- ful at his tone. “I should like to go, now, please. Will you lock the dooy when you come out?” Mordant inclined his head, and watched her leave the room with cyn- ical amusement. “A pretty creature!” he mused. “Worth winning for herself, most , young fools would think; but pcssess- ; 1 pS { and mas | but, a: | moment, as she had done. | is only one thing that will silence you. | she ; am I!” ' said, at which information Elsie turned | Loud, hysterical ing such golden attractions, that even I could. not resist her charms. How to prevail with her—that is the ques- tion. I am inclined to think she may be awed into submission; she is des- perately afraid of me now—I can see that in her changeful color and start- led eyes. Yes, by some power, human or occult,” he thought, with a slumber- ing intensity in his lustrous eyes, “she must be drawn to me; nay, she shall wed me before this year is out! She, in her youth and beauty, shall call me, a cripple and a misanthrope, her lord I swear it!” Pansy, as soon as she had left the room, hurried away down the long, tor- tuous passages, toward the back e trance, and from thence into the ¢ sed the massive door ays locked and _padlocked— which led to the West Wing of the house, she fancied she heard a strange noise distant and indistinct, which sounded like someone in hysterics. f Pansy stood and listened for a mo- ment, trembling like a leaf; there was something so uncanny in the unearthly ly merriment. “How strange! I know there can be no one in the house except Moréart Cain and myself. Surely, my imagin- ion must have played me false. The silence and solitude in this gruesome house would make anyone nervous. There it is again!’ She paused and listened, with dilated eyes and parted lips. “Horrible! It cannot be Elsie!” She wrenched at the massive door, usual, it was locked. She halt- deter ed to return to Mordant, and ask the meaning of the anomalous sounds she had just heard; but a mo- ment’s thought decided her to abandon the idea. It would not do for him to think she was of an inquisitive turn of mind, lest a closer watch should be put upon her movements. Just at that moment she heard his footstep—the heavy, uneven footstep that she had grown to regard with dis- like and fear. She instinctively step- ped back into the shadow of the hall, and he, all unwitting that she was so close an observer of her movements, halted at the entrance door of the West Wing, and stood listening for a Again came the sound of that wild though distant merriment, and Pansy heard him utter, savagely: “Plague take your vagaries! There Confound Salome! hom As these words escaped him, P: saw him take a key from his pock turn it in the iock of the heavy door, enter the dark portal, and close it noiselessly behind hi Directly he had disappeared, Pansy turned and fled. That there was some secret connected with the West Wing, uo longer had a doubt; but her first thought was to escape from a sec- ond encounter with Mordant Cain! She wandered out into the garden. and was pacing along thoughtfully under the trees in the orchard, when she heard Elsie calling softly to her. “Philippa! stay—I want you. Here Why isn’t she at Pansy glanced around her, but could not see from whence the sound came. “Where are you?’ she asked, in con- siderable perplexity. “Here—up in the apple tree. Now the leaves are coming out, I often get up here out of sight. They never think of looking for me here. Come, it is quite easy, and there is plenty of room between the boughs.” Pansy reached up and gfasped the outstretched hand, and in a few ments was seated next to Elsie, s ported by the thick bole of the veteran apple tree. “I am glad we have met, Elsie. I think I understand your motives for keepin out of my way lately, so did not follow you up. Salome and her father have gone into the village. When do you expect them home? “Not yet. Salome, when she does venture out,” said Elsie, stroking her cousin’s hand contentedly, “seldom re- turns for hours. She will not be home yet. I suppose you came out here to look for me. But where have you been since father and Salome went out? I have waited for you such a time.” She spoke more connectedly, and ap- peared more rational than Pansy had ever seen her. Crouching among the fruit blossoms, with the sunlight fleck- ing her hair, and glancing into her large, restless eyes, Pansy thought she had the making of a pretty girl, were she less unkempt and uncanny-looking. “What has startled you?” asked El- sie, bending down to peer into her cousin’s pale face. “You have lost your color—you look almost, yes, al- most as frightened as I feel when 1 meet Mordant Cain suddenly in the dark corridors at night! Ah! how 1 fear and hate him!” “So do I,” admitted Pans, in a low, hushed voice, very leaves had ears. ‘Hush! one coming?’ “No, no. From where I am sitting, I can see the road, and directly I see the gig approaching we will separate. You go your way and I will go mine. ; And MordantC Cain—where is he?” “He is in the West Wing,” Pansy | hough the is any- an indescribably ghastly hue, and threw up her hands. “The West Wing!” she gasped. CHAPTER VI. Pansy paused to regard her cousin, with surprise. Why had the mere mention of the West Wing in connec- tion with Mordant Cain’s rame so powerfully affected her? “The West Wing!’ repeated Elsie, fearfully. ‘““Why did he go? Did you hear anything?” “Yes; an awful sort of merriment— laughter, or so it seemed to me,” said Pansy. “But now I remember that the first night I came here I heard some strange sounds— laughter and wailing. Don’t you know, I told you at the time?” “Yes,” said the girl, feverishly. “Pansy,” she said, stooping forward until their heads almost met, “do you know I believe there is someone im- prisoned there. Hush!—laying her fin- ger on her lips. “Don’t exclaim, and don’t lok so horrified, for I may be wrong. Perhaps I am insane on the subject, as Salome always says I am when I have asked her the meaning of those strange sounds.” “Nonsense! You are no more insane than I am,” said Pansy, trying to shake off the feeling of nameless fear that oppressed her. “There is some mystery, I am certain; and the reason of you all being compelled to live in so isolated a way, with no servants, and none of the comforts, still less luxuries of life, has always struck me as a sin- | tones are so hoarse and unnatural, still -I feel sure that they are those of a gular and suspicious circumstance.” ‘ She fell into silence, after she haé spoken her mind, turning and ponder- ing the matter. Whom could they be keeping in durance, and for what pur: pose? “It cannot be, Elsie. We must both have imagined these sounds, I begin to think,” she said, at length. “In this nineteenth century it would be moral ly impossible for any person to have disappeared without some hue and cry being made about them. And yet— certainly that voice, which rings in my ears now, must belong to a person of tangible flesh and blood.” “It does,” said Elsie, oracularly. “1 am certain of it; and what is more, ] believe it is a woman, for though the woman. Pansy, I believe,” she said looking fearfully around, “that were we to discover anything, they would kill us!” “They would not dare! We must be very cautious ful, lest they should t a closer watch upon our movements. I have 2 plan—wild, immature yet, for I have not thought how it is to be compassed. But, Elsie, ry care- but IT mean to run away from here. Yes,”—holding up a warning finger, as Elsie’s face fell—“yes, but not withou you. We will go together, and I wil! provide for and look after you all your life. Were it not that your fath- er is my legal guardian, and able te coerce me and bring me back by force. I would go at once to dear Miss Fen- wick; but that would be useless, for she would not be able to retain me un- der her roof, if he insisted on my re turning with him. No; I have a little money with me—not much, but enough to keep us both for a few weeks until I can decide what will be best to do.” “Yes,” said Elsie, “it would be Heay- en to get ay from this dark and ter. rible house; but it is hopeless—I know it is. They will never let us leave here alive. You do not know Mordant Cain as I do. I believe he can read one’s thoughts.” “Nonsense! We shall manage tc hoodwink him, never fear,” said Pan- sy, hopefully. “You keep to your pres: ent role, Elsie, and be as fantastic and wild as you please.” The gorl’s face relaxed again, The prospect of emancipation was too al- luring to be resisted. She clasped he1 hands, and gazed at her newly-found friend with all her soul in her eyes. Just then Pansy saw the figure of a man approaching along the hig road. ‘vhe orchard was extensive, and_be- yond it again was a narrow paddock next the road. Somewhat to her surprise, she saw the stranger mount on a broken. part of the oak fencing, then vault lightly over into the meadows. “What can he want?’ said Pansy. drawing her cousin’s attention to th trespasser. “It cannot be fruit at this time of the year. See, ‘he is coming this way as coolly as if the place be- longed ‘to him. Do you know him, Elsie?” There are few inhabitants about here, and I know them all by sight,” said the girl. “I wonder who he is?” “T think we had better get down,” said Pansy. “It would be very undig- nified for us to be accosted up a tree.” In another minute they were stand- ing together decorously beneath the trees, watching, with considerable in- terest, the movements of the intruder. He was a young man, tall and vvell knit. His face was pleasant, albeit somewhat hard-featured; but his eyes, serene and intellectual, would have re- deemed a far less homely face, and made it almost handsome. As he approached the girls, he lifted his hat, and asked, courteously, if they could tell which was the way to Sti. Lawrence church? “I have been directed in an ambigu- ous sort of way by the people in the village that is about four miles from Craigeerie; but I seem to have lost my bearings, and don’t know what road to take,” he explained, looking from one girl to the other in perplexity, they were so different in manner and ap- pearance, though both were pretty and refined in face. Pansy looked to Elsie for informa- tion. “Can you direct this gentleman?” she asked. “St. Lawrence?’ repeated Elsie, with a shy, upward glance at the stranger. “It is still some distance from here. It lies over there’—pointing away past the stretch of moorland to where a dis tant spire was faintly visible on the horizon. “It is a good four miles from here, as the crow flies. Are you going to see Mr. Umberslade, the vicar?” “I hope to have an interview with the incumbent, and ask his permission to search the register for evidence of the marriage of a distant connection of our family, and without which link in the chain of evidence, our claim to a large- property must inevitably col lapse,” he said, smiling genially at his informant. “I hope you will be successful in your quest,” said Pansy, who felt drawn to the stranger, she scarcely knew why. Perhaps it might be that he reminded her of the civilized world, “Does this property belong to Mr. Thunder, may I ask?” he said, point- ing to Black Tarn Grange. “Yes. It is my father’s house be- yond the Park palings,”’ volunteered Elsie, following the direction of his eyes. “Do you know _ him?’—struck by the look of awakened intelligence in his face. “No; I have not the honor of his ac uaintance,” he said, quietly, wondering which was the elder of the two girls, but thinking that the prettier had re- ceived the advantage of dress and edu- cation which must to a great extent have ben denied the other, He had heard some strange tales in the village respecting the master of the Grange, and the landlord of the quaint old inn at which he had put up had not scrupled to give it as his opinion that Fergus Thunder had the evil eye. Goeffrey Carslake had been amused at the old man’s garrullity, and deter- mined to fall in, if it were possible, ‘with some member of this uncanny family. Fortune had favored him be- yond his expectations, for had he not obtained access to the daughters of the house, which, he had been ‘told, were rarely, if ever seen by mortal man? He felt like a knight-errant in a story of romance. For the nonce it amused him to picture the sweet maiden in the moss-green dress, whose hair rose and fell in lovely disorder, fanned by a fresh spring breeze, as a beautiful, en- chanted princess whom he had ridden far and braved unheard-of dangers, to succor and protect. (Lo be Continued.) GAINED 22 POUNDS IN 5 WEEKS. A Fron: the By-Stander, Macomb, Iu. Alderman Louis W. Camp, of our city, has quite astonished his friends of late, by a remarkable gain in weight. Hehasgained 22 pounds in five weeks. Those of his friends who do not know the facts of his sickness will read with interest the fol- lowing: “I was broken down in healthand utterly miserable,” said Mr. Camp-to our reporter. “Twas unable to work much of the time andso badly afficted with a form of stomach trouble that life was a veritable nightmare. “J tried various remedies, but during the six months of my sickness I obtained no relief. I had always been a robust,healthy, man and sickness bore heavily upon me. “About two years ago f was advised to try Dr. Williams’ Pink ills for Pale People. I purchased one box and received so much benefit that I used five more and was entirely cured. I gained twenty-two pounds in five weeks. Since I stopped taking the pills I have scarcely had an ache or pain. Interviewing the Alderman. “Dr. Williams’ Pink Pills restored me to health and I most heartily recommend them.” L. W. Camp on oath says that the fore- going statement is true. W. W. Mztoan, Notary Public. Following is the physician’s certificate as to Mr. Camp’s present conditon. I am a regularly licensed physician of Macomb, McDonough County, Ill. Lhave very recently examined Mr. L, W.Camp as to his general physical condition, and find the same to be fall that could be desired, ap- poate and digestion good, sleeps well, and as all the evidences of being in a physical condition. Sam’L Russet, M. D. Subscribed and sworn to before me this 80th day of September, 1897. Ww. We Meoan, Notary Public, The word squirrel is from two Greek words which mean shadow tail. atents Issued. List of patents issued last week to Northwestern inventors: Josiah S. Andrew, Cloquet, Minn., folding crate; Bainbridge P. Clark, Choteau, Mont., animal shears; Wil- liam A. Ford and J. C. Mormann, Yankton, S. D., weather strip; William Kurth, Casselton, N. D., breech-loading firearm; Eugene C. McGlauflin, Anoka, Minn., roll-off lumber wagon; Charles Scott, Minneapolis, Minn., hat fastener; Charles L. Swanson, Pierre, S. D., pi- ano stool. Merwin, Lothrop & Johnson. Patent Atto~ reys, #10’ Pioneer Press Blag.. St. Paul. ‘Truffles will soon be cultivated on sci- entific principles, and are likely to be~ come cheaper. Educate Your Bowels With Cascarets. Candy Cathartic cure constipation forever, 10c, 25e. If C. C. C. fail, druggists refund money. More good will be sure to come if we are grateful for the good that has already come: Smoke Sledge Cigarettes, 20 for 5 cts. Next month the American Express company will use horseless wagons ex- clusively in Chicago. “A Perfect Type of the Highest Order of Excellence in Manufacture."” Absolutely Pure, Delicious, Nutritious. Be sure that you get the Genuine Article, made at DORCHESTER, MASS. by WALTER BAKER & CO. Ltd. EsTABLISHED 1780. Keeps both rider and saddle per- fectly dry in the hardest storms. ‘Substitutes will disappoint. Ask for 3897 Fish Brand Pommel Slicker— itis entirely new. If not for sale in your town, write for cat eto 7S A. J. TOWER, Boston, Ma_s. $95()IN GOLD FREE Send 25 cents “BUYERS OF SEEDS etable Seeds and see how easy you cin make 00 raising Ae: Saleen Fall instructions with every collection. * i ine ah ait Cut this out; it will CHAS, PLINY EARLE, Seedsman, Gouverneur, N.Y., DROPSY NEW DISCOVERY;cives quick relief and cures worst ™ gases. send for book of testimonials and 10 days? treatment F: 78 SONS, suaata,! peck d * ncheopebnanhys NSION WEN teze!s iy, Rrospoutes, Claims. Late iner U- Syrsin last war, 1S5adjudicating clalns, atty since Hoorecyes,uset THOMDSON’S Eye Water. pee | i | 1 ; . | t ‘ J