Grand Rapids Herald-Review Newspaper, June 4, 1898, Page 6

a a v A a 2 t t ry t t ! 4 1 4 i ! ‘ THE TRAGEDY OF DERECK PACKENHAM. her utterly alone in her sorest need? CHAPTER VI, Continued. With pale, set lips, Afra replied: “I will not forbid you coming to see ame, if Miss Mansfield is willing you should.” “Let things rest there. But promise me that you will not be hard on me— that you will not judge me too severe- “I promise to be what you have askea just,” she answered, and turned back behind the curtain. The men stood face to f: Cleavland saw that there gerous gleam in the other's eye his own heart was hot within him, ‘Phe barrister felt that this was no place for the exchange of angry words, or for what “Let us go,” he said. ham is better alone.” “You appear to understand my wife's feelings better than I do,” Dereck re torted, bitterly; but he followed the other out of the studio, down the steps and into the street. « “Mrs, * * * * “He has come at last,” said Beta Mansfield, who was nding beside Afra. “I he altered Beta felt a shiver s through the slim form leaning against her arm, and took it for her answer, “Yet he handsome—there is much to admire about him. Only the eyes are what I call shifty eyes, and—ah, my child, I don’t think he is the kind of man to make “Happy!” me with a heavy sig “Words have not power to fell how miserable he has made me.” “Break from him—c him off! Af- ter all, it is but the mere figment of a tie that binds you!” “1 said ‘’till death?” Afr: was vibrating now; there was ev: ly a struggle between inclination duty “Bui he forsaken swim.” “We has supported me,” Mrs, nham reminded her friend. Flung mone street beggar oice ent- and broken the compact- and left you to sink or Paci Beta retorted, indig- glad you took only what y necessary. He cannot accuse you of ext nce.” “Fe does not do so.” “It is well that he is so far i ! You can do it— Mr, Cleavland— Mrs. E nham tung a that held her. Never!” she exclaimed. Why not? He is a clever lawyer, and capable of giving you the best ad- vice.” Afra pushed her “I will not “Beta, Iam going to my room—let me riend’s hand aside. and did not offer any CHAPTER VII. No words passed between the two men until they were out in the main thoroughtare. Then Dereck spoke. “You have not dealt fairly by me!" fairly by rvland. Don't echo me. ‘ainst me.” 3) our own deeds, per by my telling her of them.” They walked on some yards in si- lence. “I could not have believed she would have shown such talent,” Packenham muttered his thoughts careely conscious of the other pre “If was natural development,” M2. Cleaviand replied. “You must not fo get that you noticed her artistic touch- es when you first knew her “What a memory you have! You for- get nothing that relates to her.” “T remember all you said.” They had arvi at the ilway sta- tion, when Dei turned round ab- ruptly. “I go by train,” he said. vland hesitated for a second, it would be well not to pursue » subject while the man was in h resent frame of mind. Hot words might lead to a rupture that would have an evil influence upon Afra’s af- ter life. Mr. Packenham strode into station and the lawyer followed. vill meet you later on,” said the “My v is s the park.” Dereck flashed a ¢ this shoulder, you?’ She has ps—never Mr. Cleavland replied, quietly. “T will meet you presently. I dine with Lady Groby.” He left Mr. Packenham standing by the entrance. In the park there was comparative solitude, and under the leafless trees the silence was intensified by the di tant sound of two great streams of ‘traffic north and south. There the law- yer walked and reviewed the situa- tion. These last few hours had altered: everything—torn down the barrier he had set before him, and changed the white flower of friendship to the red ‘blossom .of passion. Walking there, under bare branches and with the sod- den grass under his feet, Mr. Cleay- land felt as if years had passed over him. * * * = * As Dereck stood in the station, he saw the whjte face and the wonderful eyes, and he%rd Afra’s voice—calm and beautifully-modulated—say— “Hitherto you have acted between as—I wish you would continue to do so.” And then again, “There is no -quesion of old standpoints; we have gone beyond them.” And, last of all, “L promise to be what you ask—just.” Justice to him—to the man who had behaved as he had—forsaken her, left to you as he would:a | ay the arm ; . | than the present. “He has made a j demanded | “Do you?” | anee at him over ! BaBEaaaes Just to him? What did he deserve at her hands except the rupture of the fragile tie between them—repudiation? That was all. That would be justice, both to him and to her. | A wintry sunset had dispelled the | low-lying clouds, and was tinging the } vestern outlook, with its clustering ! above the treetops, and the ma- | jestic proportions of Westminster Ab- bey, with glorious hues. It was a mag- | ical transformation. Was he to hail it as an omen of good? * * * * * The world ard the flesh were well represented around Lady Groby’s ta- ble. Mr. Cleavland had not dined with | considerable time, and her ship was not prone to lavish her | dainties upon those who are incapable of making some return. He was aware of the |, as he conducted the | lady told oft to him,to the dinner table, the lawyer wondered why he had been | honored with an invitation that even- | ing. There were two or three Lady | Ethels and Lady Mary’s with their | mothers—high-nosed, shrill-voiced, low- | necked women—awful warnings, if | men believe in heredity, yet bland and | siniling. Before the fish Mr. Cleav- land had a suspicion of who it was that he had been asked to meet, and of the duty that he was expected to per- | form. “I hear a rumor—have been hearing | it for some time,” said the lady who | had been alloted to the young b: ter, “of an unfortunate entanglement on the t of our dear friend’s neph- ew. People say that you know all about it.” “I know of no entanglement, as you eall it, Lady FitzAltmont. I do know | of his x age, which is an unfortun- ate circumstance—for the lady.” Mr. !Cleavland was determined not to mince matters, for, possibly, this was the mother of the particular Lady Mary | who had been selected to spend the ; money which would otherwise inevita- aste in the young man’s reless hands. “Marriage! Pooh—pooh! Lady Gro- by tells me it has been a trumped-up | story from the commencement.” | ‘ot by Dereck Packenham’s own | will do so until he is happily settled in | life.” i “If only the lady would consert to! | comply with her marriage-vov Mr. | Cleavland felt as if he were walking | | upon hot plowshares; yet it was in- cumbent on him to speak plai The | situation must be made known, and | there would be no better opportunity | ! very worthy choice, for Mrs. Packen- ham is one to enoble matrimony.” Nady FitzAltmont’s brows contract- | u call her Mrs. Packenham,” she | ed. ‘I have never known. her by any oth- | r name,” the lawyer replied. | he is an Africar fricander—the terms are not quite j Synonymous.” |; “Not a negro?’—and her ladyship j laughed, with an undercurrent of mockery in her tone. “Born of English parents, in a part | ; of Africa that will soon be purely { Inglish as Yorkshire,” Mr, Cleayland | continued, as if the taunt had not been ; uttered. Mr. Hartrigg, her father, was an eminent engineer.” H “Hartrigg? Did you say Hartrigg?” \ Lady FitzAltmont demanded ,quickly leva . Packenham’s unmarried name { was Hartrigg,”’ was the reply. | Lady FitzAltmont turned away. Af- ter a few moments, however, she re- ! sumed the conversation, the subject be- ing the last new play. 8 * * * * In his chambers in the Temple, Mr. Cleavland was writing a letter to Beta Mansfield. He had not been to the stu- dio for several days, and wanted to know what was going on there, partic- ularly if Dereck had availed himself of the permission granted him. He had a good pretext. His sister wished Afra to paint a picture tor her, 2 commis: sion procured for the rising young art- ist by himself before there was a | thought of Mr. Packenham’s return. = | Mr. Cleaviand heard a knock at the | door, and in response to the short, answer, Lady Groby entered. “This is an unexpected honor!” ex- claimed the lawyer, springing to his feet. | Her ladyship gave him her hand and | then sunk into a chair. Mr. Cleayland | felt that he must buckle on his armor. ‘There was evidently some new phase ; of a matter which was absorbing all | - his thoughts, and it must be faced., “T’ve come to have a quiet talk with you,” Lady Groby began. “This sad and terrible business—how can we put | it right?” “T need not feign to misunderstand | you, Lady Groby,” Mr. Cleavland re- | plied, seating himself at his desk. “Of course you can mean nothing but your nephew’s most unfortunate marriage— I speak from the lady’s point of view.” A wave of the hand expressed what her ladyship felt in regard to that. “Dereck must obtain a divorce!” she | { exclaimed. “If I judge Mrs. Packenham’s feel- ings rightly—if I were called upon to | ; advise,” the lawyer began. { Lady Groby tapped his arm. | “Just so; that is what you have to do.” He felt the blood rush to his face as he answered: | “But I cannot, my lady.” | “Tut, tut! I have seen the person, and, from a casual encounter, I should say she has a will and mind of her | own. Place the thing clearly before her, and she will not refuse to be rea- { sonable. Let her set him free, and there will be plenty of money for her. I will answer for that.” “She is not .a money-seeker,” Mr. Cleavland remarked. Another wave of the hand politely expressed her ladyship’s disbelief. “She is a w-nan, and is human,” she retorted. “Get her to institute pro- ceedings—Dereck will offer 20 opposi- tion.” “Have you heard this from him? Has he authorized you to come to me?’ Cleavland’s face was set and stern. Lady Groby had not anticipated this, “I cannot—I mean—I know what will be best for him—for them both,” she stammered. “If she initiates proceed- ings he will not fight. He will let things go, so there will be no diffi- culty.” “Mr. Packenham has not told me so.” “Is collusion necessary?” Lady Groby sneered. I thought that in law matters worked the contrary way.” “Lady Groby, you must find someone else if you want this to be done. Speak to Mr. Packenham yourself. You say you have met her. Between wo- men such a matter might be discussed; but for me, I refuse.” Her ladyship arose, and, gathering up her flowing skirts, “I call this very distressing. But I thank you for the hint, and I will act upon it. By the way, did you tell Lady FitzAltamont that the lady’s name was. Hartrigg?” “I told her Mrs. Packenham’s maiden name,” he replied, coldly. “Ah! Not knowing that there had been a scandal in the family connected with a person called Hartrigg?” “LT am not of the lady’s world, and do | not know the secret history of her con- nections.” “FitzAltamont’s sister eloped with a person of that name!” “Indeed!” he ejaculated. “Your friend’s address is Sunderland Studio?” “Mrs. Packenham lives there,” plied Mr. Cleavland, bowing low. “TI will lose no time in following your 7 advice,” she rejoined, returning his sal- utation, CHAPTER VII. Lady Groby had scarcely time to be clear of the dim staircase and the paved precincts of the court when an- other rap at his door set Cleavland’s | nerves tingling. This time he flung it wide open, half-expecting to see Der- eck Packenha eyes ing at him out of the dusy. black-and-white was upon the thresh- old; she extended a hand encased in a well-fitting glove. It was Beta Mans- field. “You seem surprised,” she remarked, with a bright smile. “So am I—to find myself here. I come on urgent busi- ness, too.” Mr. Cleavland bade her welcome, and led the way into the inner office. The visitor took the chair in which Lady Groby had been sitting. “Why have you absented yourself?” | “Mr. | Mrs. Mansfield asked, hurriedly. Packenham haunts the place, and is not to be kept away. We feel quite helpless.” “I—you should have let me know.” He could not find other words ready. “Does she feel annoyed?’ “Yes; it is bringing her into a state of nervousness quite pitiable to see. Do come, for you are our only friend.” Mr. Cleveland hesitated. “She can tell him not to come,” he re- marked. “He will not heed; he seems to have gone mad.” “You have left her alone?” No; she is painting in a friend’s stu- Mansfield, can you make it con- venient to leave London?” She looked keenly at him as she an- swered: “It might be done! We'll do it!” “But the means?” Beta inquired. “Money will be forthcoming,” the lawyer assured her, “His money? I question whether she will use it. “She will, when you explain the mat- ter to her.” “Where do you recommend us tu go?” “That you tween yourselves.I know.” Miss Mansfield was about to speak had better arrange be- do not wish to | When a thought struck her, “Ah!” she cried, “you will not be able to tell him where we have gone? “Exactly! I may tell you on a divorcee.” The visitor looked “He wants a divore That seems very strange.” “Lady Groby said that Dereck would not oppose, but that the proceedings must originate with Mrs. Packenham.” “She will not take proceedings—I know her ideas on that subject.” “Then—what ¢ she do? She will not live with him Mr. Cleaviand al- most shrank at the thought his words amazed. she asked. ‘p “Come in!” which he returned as , suggesteil. “Live with him? No—never!” “I cannot advis the lawyer began, then paused, abruptly. “Leave Lon- | don,” he added—“that will be the wis- est thing.” Miss Mansfield rose to go. You must speak to her,” she said. “Afra sees matters so much more clearly when you lay them before her. Come and see us as you used at one time. Why not?” Mr. Cleavland was arranging papers ;| on his table, and thus avoiced her questioning eyes. “I will—some time or other,” he promised. But he put the visit off from day to day. He received notes from Beta Mansfield, telling him that Mr. Pack- enham was calling on him a little less frequently—coming orly for brief vis- its—which the barrister regarded as strange. On the following day Mr. Cleavland was out in the great thoroughfare just beyond the Temple gates, when a hand was laid sharply upon his arm. “Well, old man, what a hermit you have made of yourself! Never see you | anywhere now?” The speaker was an acquaintance, ) rather a pleasant fellow, who, in the old days had been a college friend and playfellow of both Dereck Packenham and himself. Existence at that time seemed little more than a pleasant di- vertissement to them, all young, with money in their pockets, and level paths apparently before them. How But a lady in dainty | that his | aunt has been here asking me to urge | everything had changed! Fulfilment and anticipation had been widely at variance, “Glad I met you! Seen anything of Packenham lately?” “Yes—hasn’t he made a hash of him- self? Met him yesterday coming back from Ryde. He’s been buying a yacht, so he told me—getting it up magniti- cently. By the way, you know, don’t you? Is the queer story of his.mar- riage true?” “Packenham is married.” “By Jove, now! That’s odd. But there’s something wrong? His wife isn't in society? Nobody meets her?’ “I meet her,” said the lawyer, grave- ly. “Well—I was told that she’s an—well, they say—an African adventuress, who picked him up. Is that true?’ “Certainly not! Mrs. Packenham is a very charming young lady, an artist and eminently gifted.” “You speak like a book. You don’t i seem well, Cleavland—ought to stir about more than you do. Come along and dine with me; then we'll drop in- to the Tivoli or some other place of that sort afterwards. Do you good— set you up. Come along!” Mr. Cleavland accepted the invita- tion. His friend’s prattle amused him, and he afterward found himself laugn- : ing, a thing he had not been guilty of j for a very long time before, although | when he entered the music hall he was | very weary. Before the performance was over he rose and went into the cool air, leaving Leason in the hall. Mr. Cleavland saw an omnibus pass- ing which would take him within 4 short walk of the place where Afra lived. A sudden impulse seized him, t j and, hailing the vehicle, he was soon }afterwards being borne westward. ! After getting out, a brisk-walk of some ! few minutes took him to the end of | the street. The cul-de-sac was dimly lighted, and, although there was a lamp burning, only a faint glimmer jproke the gloom. The place looked | very lonely, for not a light showed ' Ser the houses to the right or to the left. As Mr. Cleavland loitered there, a man came up on the dark side and | sed him. It was so unexpected a | cumstance that the lawyer had not time to observe what manner of indi- | vidual he was, beyond the fact that he | had a slinking, slouching movement. He was possibly an area sneak, looking out for unconsidered trifles. Somehow, Mr. Cleavland experienced an uncomfortable sensation—a_rest- lessness—as he walked around the lit- tle block of houses. There were four |} women in that studio, and if some | brute of a burglar broke in they would be at his merey. The figure paused | there by the r zs. and then, at a snail’s pace, proceeded a little way up | the pavement. He—Mr. Cleavland— | would drop into the shadow and | wateh. He feigned to pass by the top of the street, but, once under cover of the darkness, Coubled bacq to the corner of a pillared portico, where he stood on the qui vive.. The stranger also re- ‘turned, and walked down the street, | stepping so lightly, however, that not | &@ sound was to be heard. Mr. Cleay- | land followed, and saw the man go | straight to the studio door, where he | leaned forward, as if listening. | Mr. Cleavland dashed from | shade, and was upon the fellow before | the latter realized what had happened. | Being suddenly seized by the coat col- | lar, he wriggled and strove to release | himself, but the grasp of his captor | i ! i ! | 1 | | the was a powerful one. Mr. Cleavland dragged the supposed burglar to the lamp post and held him there. He was a small man, with leering eyes and a mean-looking mouth—a con- temptible-looking object enough, yet one to give annoyance. He writhed ahd struggled in the lawyer's hold, then made a plunge forward, and Mr. Cleavland was left standing there with nothing more than a frowsy over- coat in his grasp. The barrister was not an expert thief-catcher; but he took the shabby garment to the nearest police station, | described its late owner, ard left a re- quest for additional police supervision over Mrs, enham’s residence. The next day he called at the studio. Afra was not visible; but Miss Mans- field greeted him with effusion. “We have been invaded by Lady Groby,” she said, laughingly. “An honor, I suppose, although I am nov auite certain.” “Mrs. Packenham received her?” Cleavland ejaculated, and tried to pic- ture the scene. “Admirably—at just the proper tem perature, neither hot nor cold. Her ladyship did the gush, praised Afra’s picture, and, indeed, wonderful to re- late, seemed honestly charmed—if such an artificial woman could be charmed with anything. She actually asked us to return the call! Strange, isn’t it?” “She alluded to the vexed question? “Only mentioned her graceless neph- ew. whom, she hoped, would soon set- tle down, he having repented of all his errors. It souded curious.” Mr. Cleavland remained silent. There was nothing to throw any light upon this new move, which was absolutely unaccountable. “And Mr. Packenham has been leav- jing us severely_alone,” Beta added— “which is a great relief.” The lawyer told her that he had heard that Dereck had been out of | town, | Then Afra, who was rather naler | than usual, but quite herself, put in an appearance. They talked common places, during which Mr. Cleavland told them of his previous night’s ad- venture, leaving his hearers to infer that he had been dining in the neigh- borhood, and had passed by mere chance. Miss Mansfield laughed. “We are safe from burglars, having | nothing worth the burgling,” she said, | “but, all the same, I am glad you re- | quested extra police. The little place is dark at night.” “Did Beta tell you that Lady Groby had been here?’ Afra flushed a little as she asked the question. “She was very kind, invited me to the house and praised my work. I do not unde_- stand it.” “Nor do I,” the lawyer remarked. (To Be Continued.) His Subterfuge. “Your husband is so amiable.” hie he acts that way in public, ss people will think the baby takes after: | me.”—Chicago Record. Sheep Raising in ITlinois. In the course of an address on this subject, Hon. J. M. Bell, president of the Illinois Sheep Breeders’ associa- tion, said: Fifty-five years ago we had the poor- est sheep you ever saw. They would not be called sheep now. After a while we realized we had to have better sheep or quit the business. Wheg we had to fence the sheep we got better sheep. As time went along the business didn’t pay as well as we wanted it to, and we had to have heavier fleeces, and they grew heavier and heavier, and then came this depression, and mutton was in demand, and the sheep we used to have were not quite the thing we thought. Then we had to have a larger sheep. We put on the mutton attach- ment, and I found when I made inves- tigations for the agricultural depart- ment that the men in 1889 who had mutton in their flocks were pretty well satisfied, and the men who didn’t have mutton in their flocks didn’t know what they were going to do. In Illinois our situation is particu- larly happy and particularly sorry. We have the best land on earth. We can raise more corn than anybody. We can raise as much clover hay as anybody. We can have the best blue grass pas- tures of anybody, and just as much of them; and as you have heard of the excellence of blue grass pasture for cattle so it is for sheep. But we are drifting in the right direction. We kept sheep a long time ago and thought We never would raise mutton in this country. It is raised everywhere now in the United States. There isn’t a district out west where mutton is not included in their flocks. We can beat the world if we try, and it isn’t very hard for Illinois people to try. We are today surrounded by corn- fields. In my own county we have corn to burn. It is cheaper in Macon county than anywhere else. Why? Simply because there is no corn fed there. Why is Nebraska so successful and prosperous? Why are they getting 40c a bushel for their corn fed to sheep? They are raising the corn and feeding it to the sheep right on their farms and paying off their mortgages. Why should we not do the same way? This thing will have to be done, and I in- sist upon it we shall breed our own sheep. It will pay us better to feed our corn and our oats and our hay to well bred sheep than to range sheep. There are thousands of acres of land in this country that ought never to be plowed another time. They should be put into pasture. These lands must be kept up. These poor farms must be recuperated, and nothing can do it so thoroughly and quickly as sheep. I be- lieve the time is coming, has come, when we will have to improve our lands or abandon them, as they have in the older states. I have great hope 17 the young men of our state. They wili “catch on” to the best methods of rais- ing sheep, adopt all the system there is in commercial sheep raising, study the adaptation of breeds to the purposes they want, and the adaptation of breeds to soil, If we will adopt commercial sheep raising in Illinois, with all it means, and breed our own sheep on our poor lands, our state will be more prosperous than it has been since the war, When our lands were newer. Limber Neek. The newest and most fatal disease that we know of among chickens and turkeys is what is called “limber neck.” ‘This name is very suggestive of the prevailing symptoms of the dis- ease. The first trouble one sees with a fowl is that in trying to pick up food they seem to peck everywhere but the proper spot. Their necks are ab- solutely so limber they have no con- trol over their heads at all. In a short time—often but an hour or so— they squat down, stretch their necks out straight and when approached make a heart-rending squawking but are unable to lift their heads at all. There are no symptoms of cholera or any other fowl trouble present. We know of one poulterer who lost over ore thousand chickens last year, every affected one dying. The only recom- mendation that “limber neck” has, is it does its work quickly, one is never in doubt about the matter from the yery first—Farmers’ Guide. Suggestions on Fruit.—In his annual address President Goodrich of the Lli- nois Horticultural Society remarked that it was a strange fact that many men place fruit in the list of luxuries and tobacco and cigars in the list a necessities. In reference to treatment of the orchard after it begins to fruit he considered it a good plan to put in the hogs when the apples begin to fall, for they will eat the fallen apples as fast as they fall and thus destroy tne worms contained in them. He called attention to the fact that California fruit and fruit grown on the irrigated areas is coming more and more into competition with our fruit in the east- ern markets. Attacking the Lice.—The first at- tack made on the lice in the spring should be in the way of burning \heir resorts, the old nests and the old roosts. When these are disposed of the way for further attack will be paved. If the walls are smooth and without cracks it will be easy to put on a good coating of whitewash that will put to rest all question of red mites. New roosts can be made and new nest boxes. ‘lhe dust box can be emptied and refilled with new and fresh dust. The hens will then take up the work and will rid themselves of lice by means of the dust bath. Stock Raising and Prosperity.—Lack of enterprise in stcek raising has much to de with the poverty of Spain and Mexico. Their highest ambition is a donkey or a mule; and the American farmer whose enterprise leads him pack to the breeding of mules will never make farming pay, nor will such farmers ever add to the pvosperity or progress of their state or community, —Exchange. What You Get When You Buy Medicine is a Mat- ter of Creat Importance. Do you get that which has the power to eradicate from your blood all poisonous taints and thus remove the cause of dis- ease? Do you buy HOOD’S Sarsaparilla and only Hood’s? If you do, you may take it with the utmost confidence that it will do you good. Remember ; . Hood’s Sarsaparilla Is America’s Greatest Medicine. $1; six for $5. Hood’s Pills cure indigestion. 25 cents. What Troubled Mamie. Suitor (to her younger brother)— Come, you ought to know; is there any chance for me? Brother—Oh, you're all right. She’s wonderin’ if there’s any chance for her. —Boston Transcript. AN OPEN LETTER TO MOTHERS. We are asserting in the courts our right to the exclusive use of the word “CASTORIA.” and “PITCHER’S CASTORIA,” as our Trade Mark. I, Dr. Samuei Pitcher, of Hyannis, Massa- chusetts, was the originator of “PITCHER'’S CASTORIA,” the same that has borne anddoes now bear the fac-simile signature of CHAS. H. FLETCHER on every wrapper. This is the original “PITCHER'’S CASTORIA” which has been used im the homes of ihe mothers of America for over thirty years. Look carefully at the wrapperand see that it is “the kind you have always bought,” and has the signature of CHAS. H. FLETCHER on the Wrapper. Na one bas authority from me to use my name ex- cept The Centaur Company of which Chas H. Fletcher is President. March 8, 1897. SAMUEL PITCHER, M D. In Days of O14. First Alchemist — Shake, This is a happy day. Second Alchemist—Have you discov- ered the secret of perpetual youth? First Alchemist—No; but I have dis- covered a recipe for the finest cocktail you ever tasted in your life.—Puck. brothert No-To-Bac for Fifty Cents. Guaranteed tobacco habit cure, makes weak men strong, blood pure. 50c, 81. ‘All druggists. Hearty Enjoyment. “Are your children fond of reading?” “T should say so. . There’s not a boo in the house with a back on it.”—Cni- cago Record. Read the Advertisements. You will enjoy this publication much better if you will get into the habit of reading the advertisements; they will afford a most interesting study, and will put you in the way of gettin excellent bargains. Our advert Sa able; they send what they adver- ‘Twill Walk No More. Guyer—Poor Jones! He’s given the ghost! “Quizzer—Dead? Guyer—No; lost his job.—New York Evening Journal. up The gross earnings of the Chicago Great Western Railway for the second week of n inerease of $16,861.36 over ig week last year. This makes the increa for the first two weeks of 2 over last year, $11,435.04 of ni is from passenger traffic. The increase on the fiscal year to date is $608,401.45 over corresponding period last year. Mildred—Marie, I'm astounded thata girl with your opportunity should en- courage Baron Noodle! Marie—Haven’t you thought of what a beautiful engagement ring his soli- taire stud would make?—The Jeweler's Weekly. I shall recommend Piso’s Cure for Con- sumption far and wide.—Mrs. Mulligan, Blumstead, Kent, England, Nov. 8, 1895. “The Old Oaken Bucket’’ is a drinking song that has hung on well. Catarrh Cure Price, 73c. Hall's Is a constitutional cure. To enlarge one’s view, a pair of opera glasses may be recommended. Kola Celery Compound. Minnesota's Household Remedy, is the greatest Nerve Tonic in the world. Sold by all druggists. Hammers would be dear if the purchasers had to pay by the pound . Educate Your Bowels With Cascarets. Candy Cathartic cure constipation forever, 0c, 25e. If C. C. C. fail, druggists refund money. All along the line—the clothespins; THE EXCELLENCE OF SYRUP OF FIGS is due not only to the originality and simplicity of the combination, bat also to the care and skill with which it is manufactured by scientific processes known to the CaLirornia Fie SyRuP Co. only, and we wish to impress upon all the importance of purchasing the true and original remedy. As the genuine Syrup of Figs is manufactured by the Caumrornia Fia Syrup Co. only, a knowledge of that fact will assist one in avoiding the worthless imitations manufactured by other par- ties. The high standing of the Cate ForNIA Fia Syrup Co. with the medi- eal profession, and the satisfaction which the genuine Syrup of Figs has given to millions of families, makes the name of the Company a gu: of the excellence of its remedy. far in advance of all other laxatives, as it acts on the kidneys, liver and bowels without irritating or weaken- ing them, and it does not gripe nor nauseate. In order to get its beneficial effects, please. remember the name of the Company — CALIFORNIA FIG SYRUP CO. SAN FRANCISCO, Cal, LOUISVILLE, Ky. NEW YORK, WN. x, < ; SH . ‘ — pot 4 i | } j i x» . | 4 ' ii | {