Grand Rapids Herald-Review Newspaper, June 18, 1898, Page 6

CHAPTER X, (Continued.) €leavland’s care that he owed his re- storation to comparative health. The bullet had been extracted, but the wound caused a fierce attack of fever, which brought the once-powerful man to the verge of death. It was during those days of pain and weakness that Dereck began to under- stand how he had made avoe of his life, and to look his future steadily in the face. He knew that his wife lost to him; he was aware that last wild act of his had destroyed ev- ery chance of regaining her, and the thought was madness. It was while he thus lay suffering both in body and mind that he came to a resolution which was not unwise—he would re- turn to Africa. ° * * * * * Lily Flack had returned to her mother and Packenham had he- haved ¥ ly to her, She told Beta Mansfield without reservation the story of her abduction. As the detect- éve had surmised, Dereck had taken no part in it himself. He had not even een on board the yacht to which his men conveyed her, and where she was treated with every considration. They crossed the channel at almost racing pace, arriving at a small fishing port on the opposite coast about mid-dey the next day, where Mr. Packezham waiting to receive his wife. ly said that his rage had been something terrible when he discovered the mistake, and almost immediately he ordered the boat to be headed for Dieppe, where the girl was put on shore with a goodly sum in her pocket, and a ¢ommand to hold her tongue when she erossed to England by the night mail- packet. The money which Mr. Packenham gave meant a small fortune to Lily, who, not long afterwards, married her part and ceased to lend her pret- ty face to the artistic world. Dereck wrote to Afra and told her that he knew he had sinned heyond hope of forgiven but begged her to grant him an interview before he left the country. He, however, winced at being obliged to send the missive by the aid of Mr. Cleavland. It was some days before he received the answer, in which Afra told him that she must decline to see him, for such an interview would be very pain- ful to both him and her. Shortly receiving that reply Dereck Pac! bam left London. » CHAVTER XI. and Last.. Afra breathed freely when she knew éhat the man who had exercised 51 a malign influence over her life w: gone. She lived in a brighter world. The placid beauty of rural England was like a revelation, adding fre: to a life freed from the horrors had once assailed her. Her mind was also at rest as to her future, for her husband had granted her request pttled upon her the small but sufficient income which she had asked. She heard of this through Mr. Cleavland, who, for some reason, ceased to visit her. The young law- yer, so h ster explained, was row very bus, and rapidly going to the . Some- hing he front of | times Afr had not missed his friend he had been! everything to him? When winter came London; and Miss M field noticed thot for the first few s after Afra came back there was a look of expecta- tion in her ey But it died and the earnest art-student once more became absorbed in her work. Mr. arduous profe: caught herself so much to do, because she friendship. And what a Did she not owe e returned to Cleavland’s name was never men- tioned between them. * * * a * “Come and see me at once—old ad- dress. ’ackenham.” Mr. Cleavland stood looking at the slip of pink paper in his hand, There was a shadow upon his face. This man, whose life had been so strangely entwined with his own, had returned, then! The old fight would fought again, Mr. Cleavland thought, as he crushed the telegrapie message in his hand.For years he had endeay- ‘ored to do right, and won—but at what a cost to himself he alone could tell. He had struggled hard against the great love which had taken possession of him until now h,e could meet Afra in society—as he sometimes did—with- out betraying to her or to the world, always keen to scent out anything having a touch of scandal in ‘there was the slightest feeling bey that of ordinary friendship between them. \ How he blessed the prudence that had kept him silent upon one memora- ble oc on when he was on the eve of betraying himself to Miss Mans- field! His secret was his own. It eonld never injure Afra; while as for himself, he was yet firm enough to act as mediator and adviser to her and the man who called himself her husband. It was strange to mount the once-fa- miliar stairs, to stard at the door which once admitted him to an abode filled with happy memories of schoot and college days, when the wild, at- tractive lad, who had been the pet and plague of his earlier life, had lived there in the flush of early manhood. ‘The servant who answered his knock was a stranger, a grave-looking, elderly man,, by no means such an attendant as Dereck usually cared to have about him. The person who met him in the dim corridor, and who took his hand with genuine emotion, was a woman for whom he had hitherto felt either have to ke But Lady Gro- by was in such violent distress that the man’s heart expanded to her. friendship nor respect. Her ladyship drew him into the sit- ting room. “Mr, Cleavland, I am so glad you have come! I met the dear boy at Ma- deria, but thought he would rally when he got home. Alss, that fatal Africa!” A sob closed her speech. “But 1 have not heard; I did not even know Dereck had returned,” he replied, and his heart throbbed fast. “Only two days ago we brought him He would not come to my house. ve sent for his mother; but—he wants—his wife.” Lady Groby’s voice faltered as she spoke. “I sent for you. Mr. Cleayland stood looking at the floor, “It is terribly sad,” he said. “But I do not understand. How has it come about that he is so dangerously ill?” “Oh, he has been living a rather dis- sipated life!’—and Lady Groby shook her head. “Then he was seized with that awful African fever. But come to his room and see for yourself.” Mr. Cleayland entered the shaded apartment. He had a curious feeling of awe as he crossed to the bed, where something—a mere shadow of the past —lay, propped up with pillow: reath ing hard. The hand the |; er took was burning hot; the eyes that looked out at him from the drawn, yellow face were bright with fever, and the purple lips twitched mournfully. “It's good—of you—to come, Harry.” The visitor reely recognized the broken, husky voice which uttered the word “I’m done for this time; but I deserve it, old man—I brought it all upon myself. Don’t trouble about me. I merit—every—ha’worth of it, as you know Mr. Cleavland could not speak for a few miutes, but stood holding the hot hand and looking into the altered face, overcome with emotion. They had parted in anger—there was no reom for anger row. “Ricco, my dear boy!’ was all he could falter, as he bent above the sick man and touched his face tenderly with his disengaged hand. ‘The fevered eyes softened. “You & forgiven me?” Dereck pleaded. you will secure—her forgivene Bring her to me?” “E will” “She will not—refuse _to—come?” ‘There wa omething so pitiful in the tone in which Dereck asked the cues- tion that Mr. Cleavland could not pre vent the sob in his throat escapving from his lips. “No,” he replied—‘“she will not refuse to come.” “Soon?” The eagerness in the af- flicted man’s face was terrible to see. “As soon as I can bring her.” It re- quired all the lawyer's self-command to enable him to utter the words, “I—wronged her—cruelly, Harry! O, Heaven!” “Hush, Ricco! That is all over now.” The w head moved restlessly on the pillow Dereck replied: “Everything will be over soon.” * * ariet Mees * * “T had a curious dream last night.” Afra, in her paint-stained bib and apren, was standing before a picture to which she was giving a few lest touches, while Miss Mansfield was oc- cupied upon a lovely bunch of spring flowers—a study for her Academy pic- ture, one which afterwards was the means of bringing her into the first rank of English painters. dream? Do you believe in them?” Beta asked, as, with head on one side and half-closed eyes, she noted the pe- culiar curve of a crested daffodil. “For that matter, I ought not to have asked the question, for we are all dreamers of dreams,” she added, meditatively. “But this left a curious impression behind it,” Mrs. Packenham continued. “I was at Hartriggsburg, in the old home. An African sunset was flaming the heavens, and as the sun’s rim dipped below the long stretch of the veldt, I thought that two people came to me from out the glow—my dead brother and—the other.” Afra never used her husband’s name. “I thought John kissed me and drew the other for- ward, ng, ‘Afra, kiss him, too!’ and in the effort to overcome my dread and horror of—him, I awoke. There—tl dream has been haunting me all ¢: “I wouldn't allow a matter like that to make an impression upon me if I were you,” Beta replied. “Dreams are merely the replicas of chance impres- sions which the mind receives cncon- sciously during the day, and—I wish people wouldn't come knocking at the door when one is busy! See who it is, Afra, please.” Mrs. Packenham went to the door and threw it open. “You!” she exclaimed, as she stepped back behind the sweep of the heavy Mr. Cleavland noted the ringing of something more than mere convention- al welcome in her tone, and his heart thrilled. “ “You must come along with me,” the lawyer told Afra. “Your husband—” She drew sharply away from him. “He has returned, I suppose, to per- secute me?’ Her words rang out al- most harshly. “Am I to fly and hide lf again?” she demanded. “No,” he answered, slowly; “ne—you are to come to him. He sent me for you.” Mrs, Packenham grew deadly pale. “Sent you?” she asked, with quiver- ing lips. “Sent you—you?” “He sent me, and I will not return to him ‘without you,” the lawyer replied, firmly. A flash of revelation came to her. “He is ill?’ she queried, steadying herself by the table. “Dying,” Mr. Cleavland replied, ia Cis of gravely, and turned away. “Oh, not that—not that!” she moaned. “Yes! And you must accompany “I will go,” Afra replied, calmly. * * * * * There was silence in the darkened chamber. The bright spring day was drawing to a close. The dying man moved restlessly. . Lady Groby went to his side. “What is it Rieco?”’ she asked, with motherly tenderness, for the world had not quite deadened the woman's heart in her bosom. “Afra—how I wronged her,” he mut- tered—“how we all wronged her!” “My dear boy, let bygones be by- gones,”” “She will not come—I sinzed too deeply to be forgiven!’ “Hush! Hush! After all, the wisest of us sometimes make mistakes.” “But it is all over. The mine—” “Don’t let your mind run on such matters. All will come right. You must get well, and then—” “The mine! Jack did not mistake—I wronged him cruelly.” “Did not mistak —and Lady Groby id not mistake Hartrigg was right all through, and I—wrong from first to last. Wrong —wreng!” “Ricco, dces it matter much? You can put everything right by-and-by, n't you? Your wife will nurse you back to health and strength, and you will be happier for all this.” -“Happier—for having broken a com- rade’s heart and destroyed a woman's affection? I listened to the voice: the evil angels and threw my cl away. We never get a second. bitter.” “Dear Ricco, try to compose yourself to sleep.” “Sleep! soon.” ‘There was a sound in the corridor—a soft rustle of a woman’s dress and sub- dued voices.Then the door was opened and Mr. Cleavland came to the bed- side, The dying man started up and eried: It will be cne long sleep “You are alone? She would not come?” “She is here!” returned Cleavland, briefly. * * * * * * “I must say,” Lady Groby told Lady FitzAltamont, in after confidence, “that she behaved splendidly. For the whole of that terrible week she ~ever left him. No wife could haye shown him more tender attention er displayed greater affection. You see, there had been a game of cross-purposes between them all aleng. Dereck had a yery ¢ pricious and ungovernable temper poor fellow!—and—and she—well— i hall I call it firm—perhaps obstin- ate? Things went hopele wrong between them; but I must admit that I cannot excuse much of the poor boy's conduct to her and her brother. But his wife forgave him, and has preved herself thoroughly disinterested. No, she won't take one farthing of the great fortune he left behird—nothing but her share of the mine, which turned out to be a really valuable prop- erty. She absolutely won't take Der- eck’s share in it—only her own. But I can tell you that that isn’t at all bad. A syndicate has purchased the reef for £80,000, and half of that is hers. She has gone to Mount Sorel, and my poor sister is charmed with her. Perhaps, even if the unhappy boy had lived, things might not have turned out well. He would no doubt have made ducks and drakes of his fortune—as it was, he spent a terrible sum. No, he would at home, like other people, I really be- lieve;’ and Lady Greby wiped her eyes. “If poor old Juggins had not left him all that money,” she added, “he would have remained in Africa, worked up this mine, been a happy and prosper- had a thoroughly good wife le, and returned to England a credit to us all. But he had every chance when he succeeded to that fo: tune, which seemed to stifle every- thing good in him. It’s a bad thing to be too rich.” ¥rom which remark it would seem as if Lady Groby had taken to heart the lessons of affliction. * * * * * * Afra returred from Ireland, where she had comforted the heart-broken mother as best she could. She had re- turned to the old studio, which would soon cease to be her home, for she was determined to break away from every- thing that could remind her of her old life. Beta Mansfield was not only in- dependent, but rich, and the two wo- men had decided upon spending the winter in Italy. Henry Cleavland had apparently gore out of their lives. Since he left Mrs. Packenham at her husband's bed- side, she had not seen him. She told herself that it was better that they should not meet again. And yet, had he not been her best friend? Did she not owe everything to him? She had promised Lady Mount Sorrel a picture of Dereck’s grave, and, although it cost Afra a great pang, she resolved to keep her word. Her little brougham waited ontside the cemetery, while she made a sketch of the white marble cress which’ she had herself designed, and which had only just been placed in position, When she had finisked the sketch, she turned to go, but something oc- curred to her at that moment. Had she done what was right to the man who slept below? Hihd she been wise in fleeing from him—in breaking loose from a tie which might have saved him? She could not tell. She had not been brought up in that sehcol of thought which declares that the wo- man should never hesitate in sacrific- ing herself for the man. Afra ac- knowledged a different standard of right and wrong. By her own measure she could justify herself, although then, as she stood there, where the tragedy had found its culmination, she felt a strange weight at her heart. The man who was lying there had loved her after his fashion. Would there ever be another to love her as well? Even as she stood and looked upon the rounded turf and the white cross at its head, the answer e:::e— “No!’ His was not the higher love. Had it been so, she would not have fled from it, or avoided it, as she would have done an accursed thing. It was not true affection that had left her alone and friendless by the side of her dead brother during that terri- never have been content to live quietly | bie time when almost everyone seemed to have turned against her, until there came a friend's voice, a helping hana, wise counsel and protection—help in her time of bitter need. And yet, that was not love—merely friendship. “Mrs. Packenham!” you are the last person I expected to meet! I had not heard that you had returned from Ire- land?” ‘Turning sharply, she saw Mr. Cleay- land standing facing her, Dereck’s grave between them. She noticed how he had altered, how the youthful look had gone from his face, and how the deeper lines only made it look more in- teresting than of old. The hair, too, was lightly touched with gray, but the eyes had the same kindly expression as at the moment when she had most j needed kindness, and the hand held tout to her was that which had helped ‘ her in the hour of her utmost need. “I came back a few days ago, and have. made a little sketch—for his mother,” she explained, finding it hard to keep her voice @t its ordinary level, while to him it was like gentle music. Mr. Cleavland came to her side and looked at the drawing. “Poor Dereck!” he ejaculated. tragedy of a life thrown away!” ‘Tears were in her eyes as she put the sketch into her small portfolio and turned to go, but the lawyer walked silently by her side. “You are a busy man,” Afra re- marked, feeling that she must say something, for the burden of silence between them was growing too heavy to be borne. “I can be idle now.” “I try to employ an empty life with Interests outside of it,” he returned. Mr. Cleayland, walking by her side, thought that Mrs. Packenham looked strange in her widow’s weeds, though they were of the least obtrusive char- acter—strange in her sedateness, the self-possession springing from her in- tercourse with a larger world. “I mean to spend the winter in Flor- ence,” she told the lawyer. “Do you ever go abroad?” They were approaching the gate now, and the dainty little carriage was with- in sight. A desperate feeling came to the man; he appeared to realize that if he parted from her now it meant part- ing forever. He stopped abruptly. “if I visit Florence, will you—can you~?” He paused and laid his hand lightly upon her arm. Their eyes met, and his clasp grew firmer. Mr Cleavland drew Afra to- wards him. “I will come if yow bid me,” he said. She turned and faced him—locked into his eyes calmly and trustingly. There was ar expression im them he had never seen there before. Through the still air came the soft chiming of distant bells. But more melody was in Afra’s voice as she spoke—sounding sweeter than he had ever thouzht it before—when she said— “Come!” * * * * * * “Really,” was the verdict of the world, speaking through Lady Groby— Be | Packenham might have done better! With all that money which the Mount Sorrels insisted upon her tak- ing, and her share im the mine, she ought to have Iooked higher than a mere barrister. But I suppose she had every right to choose for herself; and then”—witlr a Tittle shrug—‘she has a will of her own, and was bound to have her own way. I hope that Mr. Cleavland will be happy.” The world might have its opinion; but Henry Cleavland himself had =o doubt upon the subject. “The pte oa od The End. Turning the Tables. A gentleman who was suffering se- yerely from business worries and over- anxiety generally was attended by a well known physician, whose chief pre- scription after every visit was a solemn exhortation to take things easy and not worry about anything. Ultimately the physician's bill eame in and proved to be of even more than gcberous proportions. Straightway the tient sat down and wrote precisely as follows: “Dear Dr. B—: Your account of the ist inst. duly to hand, and I feel sure that you will feel delighted to learn that I am taking things easy and not worrying about anything. Very sin- cerely yours.”—St. Louis Post Dis- patch. She Only Got Left. Old ladies from the East who come visiting in Montana do not understand the compficated methods of getting ore transformed from mountain to silver spoons, or something like that, for here is what one of them said “And that is silver ore, is it?” said the old lady, as she examined a curi- ous-looking bit of mineral. “Yes,” said her husband. “And how do they get the silver out?” “They smelt it.” “Well, that’s queer,” she said, apply- ing her nose to the ore. “I smelt it, too, but I didn’t get any silver.”—Idaho Springs News. palace See Sg Fair Inference. “J think this pitcher has a glass arm,” whispered the short stop, with a toss of her head. “No!” exclaimed the second base girl, betraying interest at once. “Yes; else why does she always wear twenty-seven button gloves in the game?” Just then a hot-liner came their way, and it was necessary for them to shriey and flee.—Puck. ARAL aaa a Hard Times. Lady—Why don’t you go to work? ‘Tramp—I can find nothing to do in my profession, ma’am. “What is your profession, pray?” “Well, ma’am, 1 used to shovel snow for a living, but you know we haven't had much snow of late years; and then I turned spring poet, and now it be- gins to look as if we was to have no spring.”—Yonkers Statesman. No Il Will. “Can your country forget that we whipped you?’ inquired the American girl. . “Oh,” replied the young English- man, cheerfully, “you only whipped a few of us. And you couldn't have done that if you hadn’t been our own kind of people.”——Washington Star. One of the greatest mistakes made by stockmen is the overstocking of the pastures. The government has recent- ly been investigating the great stock Tanges of the southwest and finds that they have been overstocked to a point where they are about ruined. This is Particularly the case with Texas, where the conditions are now so bad that it is feared the injury is perma- nent. The grasses and what serves for sod are killed out and the land, if it bears anything at all, will henceforth bring forth only weeds. The report Says that it is mot yet too late to re- cover, provided the land be given rest at once. The subject is a matter for consideration other than on the ranges. When our home pastures are overstocked they become permanent- ly injured, at least until the land ean be put into a rotation and gradually brought up again. With many pas- tures this is not practicable, as fre- quently the ground is stumpy om su uneven that tillage is: exceedingly’ dit- ficult. When such a pasture becomes. eaten down to the very soil the sod must necessarily become thin. If, through a whole growing season, the blades: of the grass are not allowed’ to develop, the roots must become also thin and weak. When like conditions exist. year by year is it any wonder that the sod becomes so thin that the total pro- duct is meager? We must work. for a heavy and vigorous sod on our pas- tures. Overstocking is a bad practice and one that is being abandoned’ by our most progressive farmers. It will be found cheaper to have more grass grown than can be eaten than to have less grass grown than will satisfy: tlie herds. There are two ways to save a pas- ture from this fate—to put so few cat- tle on it that they cannot eat all of the grass, or to feed additional rough fod- der and grain in the barns before turning them onto the pasture. Rich- ard Baker has said that his plan is to have grass enough for two animals and to turn only one on it. One would suppose that this would mean a great waste of material, but such is not the fact, as Iand so treated will probably bring forth twice as much as if treated the other way, and besides the cattle will always be in good condition. Inspect Watering Places.—In the pastures the principal drinking places should be carefully examined; first, to protect the source of supply if it be liable to treading by the stock; sec- ondly, to remove the accumulations of mud, if by so dding the capacity of the pond can be thereby increased; and, thirdly, to protect the whole supply, as far as possible, from that fouling which is bound to go on if the cattle can obtain free access to the water, and which is never felt more than when the water is scanty. It will be understood by the thoughtful reader that the terrors of a dry summer and a deficiency of water may be alleviated ‘to a certain extent by careful manage- ment, but no time should be lost in taking steps to remedy any defects which might exist, or other pressing work will shelve the matter once for allL—Farm and Home (England.) Take a Composite Sample.—Quite a number of buttermakers object to tak- ing a sample of the patron’s milk to test every day, as they ‘claim that’ it takes too much time; they would rather test the milk two or three times a month and test the new milk, and pay for the milk every day. When you do not take a sample of the milk every day, it gives the patron who is inclined that way a better chance to skim the night’s milk without be- ing detected, and there are some pa- trons who will do so, as we all know. After the buttermaker has once fixed up the sample bottles for holding the composite sample of milk, it don’t take much time to take a sample of the milk. You can take a sample of milk while you are waiting for the weigh |: can to empty, and it really doesn’t take any extra time.—N. Y. Produce Re- | view. Live Stock Figures.—The number of swine decreased 840,283 in 1897, mak- ing a decrease of nearly 5,000,000 in the past three years. The decrease for °97 was considerably less than for the preceding two years. The number of horses decreased 403,756, making a total decrease for three years of 2,- 000,000, or fully 10 times as many as were ever annually used on street rail- roads, yet the substitution of elec- tricity for horse power on such roads has been made to account very largely for the prevailing low price ef horses. The only live stock that made any in- crezse in number in ’97 was sheep, 838,317; and mules, 42,011. It.is Clean Butter.—Professor Wing, speaking recently to the New York ;state dairy meeting of a visit he had paid to Europe, said: “Our butter in ,Some cases is as good as any in Den- mark, but does not average as good. There are some careless dairymen there as elsewhere, but there is not so much variation. There is nothing done there we do not do. There is no secret. There cows, feed, and milk are ordinary. Scrupulous care, clean- liness, and the use of artificial fer- ments, which is almost universal, are the causes of superiority. Dried Brewers’ Grain.—Dried Brew- ers’ grain is the kiln dried residue from beer manufacture. It consists of some of the starch, together with the hulls, germ and gluten of the barley. A small portion of the gluten and the larger part of the starch are removed from the barley by the action of dis- taste and yeast. It is probably” a mistake to dose fowls with the idea of keeping away disease. If they are well, let them alone, but give them feed at all times that will not be too hard on tke di- gestion. WOMEN IN BUSINESS. (rom the Free Press, Detroit, Mich.) A prominent business man recently ex- pressed the opinion that there is one thing that will prevent women from completely filling man's place in the business. world— they can’t bedepended upon because they aiesicx too often. This is refuted by Mrs. C. W. Mansfield, a business woman of 58 Farrar St., Detroit, Mich., who says: “A complication of female ailments kept me awake nightsand woremeout. Icould get no relief fromm medicine and hope was slipping away from me. A young lady in my employ gave mea box of Dr. Williams’ Pink Pills for Pale People. I took them and was able to restat night for the first time in months. I bought more and took them and they eured.me as they also cured several other people to my knowledge. I think that if you should ask any of the druggists of Detroit whoare the best buyers of Dr. Williams’ Pink Pills they would s: the heirs 2 women. These pills certain build up the nervous’ system and many & young weman owes her life to them. “As a business, woman i am pleased to recommend. them asthey did more for’ methan any physician,. and I can ive Dr. Wil- jams’ Pink Pills forPale: , People cred- — ,it for my-< general = | good health | to-day.”” | No diseov- ery of mod- Suddenly Prostrate. ern times has: done: so much to enabie | women to take their proper placesin life by K be ere! their healthas Dr.. Williams’ Pink Pills for PalePeople.. Acting directly - omthe blood and! nerves; invigorating the body, regulating the functions,they restore the strength and' health to the exhausted woman when every effort of. the: physician proves unavailing: For the growing: girl’ tiey are-of the greatest benefit, for the motber indispensa- ble, for every woman invalvable. For Peralvets, locomotor ataxia, and other diseases jong supposed. incurable, these pills have prove thousand of cases. their: efficacy in Brown—Don’t you know that tobiaeceo clogs up your brains? Cholly—Thanks, old bey; thanks; aw- fully. You're the-only one who has: ey- er admitted that I had any: brains.— Trath. List’ of Vatents Ikea) ast Weel te rihiwestern In vrs: John F. Brazelton, Butte, Mont., scale weight; Frank Chimgar, Tower, Minn., saw machine;. Charles W. Davidson, Mintieapolis, Minn., protect- ive seal for bicycle: Thomas H. Deckert; Forsyth, Ment:, musical in- strumen Samuel D. Eisendrath, St. inn., filter; Charles Grimes, Paul, X Rapid City,.$:D.,. gold’ w um J. Leib, Pratt, Mir ttachment for te! ‘apt Robert McDowell, Anaconda, Mont., vehi- cle wheel; Edward’S. Robbins, Parker, D., display rack. Merwin, Lothrop: & Johnson, Patent’ Attor- neys, 910 Pioneer Press Building, St. Paul: sher; W mneumatic Rose—Did Charli¢ threatem to com- mit suicide when you refused him? Myrtle—Oh, it was just worse than that. He-said he would live to make me regret it.—Chi¢ago News. Don’t Tobacco Sp't and Smoke Your Life Awan. — To quit tobacco easily and forever, be mag- netic, full of life, nerve and vigor, take No-To- Bac, the wonder-' strong. All drugs’ . Cure guaran- teed. Booklet and ‘sample free. Address Sterling Remedy Co., Chicago or New York Among the many: expenses: borne by Railroad companies, the ice bill figures quite prominently. For instance, on the Baltimore and Ohio Railroad it is expect- ed it will take over 50,000 tons of ice this year to meet the requirements.of. the ser- vice. The greater portion is used in con- nection with the shipment: of’ perishable goods the balance in the passenger train service. A great deal of this ice is put up by the: company im its. own ice houses, but as the past winter has been so warm, a very, large proportion. will. have to be purchased Sad’ but. True: Wibble—All the religion I’ have eon- sists in believing that my neighber has aright to do as:best suits him. Wabble—There is no religiom im such a. belief as-that.—Indianapolis Journal. For-a perfect complexiom and a clear, healthy skin, use COSMO BUTTERMILE SOAP. Sold everywhere. | Pass words—“Admit, one,” * No-To-Bac for Fifty Cents. Guaranteed tobacco habit cure, makes weak men strong, blood pure. 50c, #1. Alldruggists. One: off the: folidl—the: alpsing: bed. —_—___ | AN OPERATION AVOIDED, Mrs. Rosa Gaum Writes to Mrs, Pinkham About it. She Says: Dear Mrs. Prnxiram:—tI take pleas- ure in writing you a few lines to in- form you of the good your Vegetabiea Compound has done me. I cannot thank you enough for what your medi- eine has done for me; it has, indeed, helped me wonderfully. For years I was trou- bled with an ovarian tumor, each year grow- ing worse, un- til at last I was compelled to consult with a physician, He said nothingcould be done for me but to go under en operation. In speaking with a friend of mince about it, she recommended Lydia E. Pinkham’s Vegetable Compound, say- ing she knew it would cure me. J then sent for your medicine, and after tak- ing three bottles of it, the tumor dis- appeared. Oh! you donot know haw much good your medicine has done me. Ishall recommend it to all suffer- ing women.—Mrs. Rosa Gaum, 720 ee St., Los Angeles, Cal. e great and unvarying su Lydia E. Pinkham’s vege = oot pound in relieving every de: igement of the female organs, demonstrates it to be the modern safeguard of wo- man’s happiness and bodily strength. More than a million women have been benefited by it. Every woman who needs advice about her health is invited to write to