Grand Rapids Herald-Review Newspaper, November 12, 1898, Page 2

ae a. APTER HE, (Centinued.) “Of course, it wili be perfectly i ng creature!” Ruth sister a rapturous yuetting gaily round “We can have tennis and the Courtfields had archery— it will be delight- the room. archery da band! Oh! ful!” Her checks were flushed with pleas- s shone like stars, and her hair, sh n loose lay on her shoul- ked at the c ming, reature with wistful ten-~ sincere wish that f: more kindly upon her 1ad done on her. yorn to walk in the shadow; ny Ruth is a child of the as no tinge of envy in her brought a shadow oyer and Ruth, guick to no- change in her Ss coun- ully: Do I tease Am I selfish, Gr you with my raptur. “No, dear Iam indeed pleased to see you glad.” “And you will be there, Grace—you will enjoy yourself, too!” the girl ex- ll be there, certainly,’ Grace answered, with a smile—“if only to make Mr. >quaintance!” Ruth turned a y with a vivid flush, which gave the anxious, ques- tioni look in her sister’s eyes an in- stant and most decisive answer. Until then there had been a lurking uneasi- mess in G Santley’s mind. Her mother’s warm advocacy of the man meant, she knew, that Mr. Carlton was a highly-eligible suitor; but Ruth’s swift, sly blush meant something more, and, though the Squire knew it not, he had secured another warm par- tisan and friend. After that, the invitations were promptly issued, and preparations for the fete proceeded bri To the a ‘ment of both Mrs. Leger and Ruth, Grace interested herself warmly in the matter, and seemed as er as they that everything should be in good taste and go off well. It was she who chose Ruth’s dress for the great occasion- charming mingling of cream and w at tints, which suited the girl beauty to perfect added grace of pe ‘I might pass for i , twisting , the glass bein s accepte the invit 5 thing being in perfect order for to- morrow, I shall be absolutely. happy if Phere is always an ‘if dear,” remarked, “put, in this s bles me. If you would en); those horrid weeds, and look, for onc like any other young and pretty gir You are young and pretty still, G Do you mean to wear black forever “L do not know,” her s very modified mourning to-morrow. “But it will be black, still,” she per- sisted, discontentedly. “How I should like to you in pink or sky-blue, or terra-cotta, or crushed strawberry!” “That will do!” Grace cried, raising her hands in assumed terror. “Heaven preserve me from such an avalanche of colors! You know my taste alway inclines to sober tints.” ‘And perhaps you are right!” Ruth obs ed, sagely, regarding her sister attentively. “The black satin and lace will bring out all your tones delight- fully. Nothing could form a better set- h-rose skin, blue eyes » i yy, don’t. talk such monsens nee broke in, her cheeks reddening, though the praise came only from a sister's lips. Ruth laughed aloud in mischievous delight. It is excellent sense, and absolute truth!” she cried, gaily, “If you were the veriest coquette in the world, you could choose no more becoming dress. But, all the same, I would change it if I could. ou have been so like my own dear Grace these last few days that 1 could almost think the sorrowful past was done with and forgotten, Insensibly, her ging tone changed to a y; her hand stole into her sister’s and held it fast. Grace was touched by the affection- ate appeal. The contrast between them had presented itself momentarily. to her own mind, but had found an abid- ing place, apparently, in that of her sister. : “Thank you, dear,” the elder girl said, gently. “The past can never be forgotten; but, somehow, there seems to me a change—whether it is in me or sround me I can hardly tell. But 1 seem to be drifting back into the old thoughts and wa) to be, as youw'say, my old self. I think I should hardly be startled if to-morrow found me Grace Leger again.” | There were tears in her eyes, and the soft lips trembled as they rested on Ruth’s bright hair; but the latteronly answered, with a pleasant laugh: “Let it find you what it pleases, Grace, if it only finds and leaves you happy!” g CHAPTER Iv. ‘ he morning of the all-important day d@awned fair and cloudless;-and Ruth ‘was in a very ecstasy of delight. She was the first to don her pretty dress, nd was here, there and everywhere, all over the house and grourds. Her mother warned her that she would not @ Bride » > of a Day. 2 be fit to look at by the time the guests arrived, while G-ice feared that before the day was over she would be utterly tired out. But it was not very easy to weary j the bright girl, whose whole being ! thrilled with a delicious, expectant ex- 'eitement, and whose young blood | coursed joyously through her veins. She answered her mother’s remon- strance only with a little happy laugh, j and twined one arm in loving fashion about her sister’s waist, as she said, in a coaxing whisper: Jon't be wise to-day, Gracie, dear, Be happy, as I mean to be!” Then Ruth ran off. Grace looked after her with a half-smile, though she echoed the last sentence a little sadly. “Be happy? Shall I ever be that again, I wonder?’ she queried, doubt- ingly; then paused, abashed at what seemed to her like a weak murmuring at fate. The renewed energy and hope within her were a personal reproach to the girl-widow’s tender conscience, though they were but the natural outcome of her youth. She had thought that she would be content to pass the remain- der of her life in patient endurance tana tender regret. But, as health and strength returned she found herself rejoicing in the sunshine and craving for the gladness of life. And to none who looked at her, as she moved, with the gentle, tranquil grace that was her chief charm, a slender, black-robed figure among her butterfly guests, could that joy or long- ing have seemed strange. Ruth had said truly that the daily costume of black lace and satin suited her as no colors could have done. Grace's pale golden hair, which waved softly back from the low brow, the clear eyes, with their look of childish trust, the faintly-tinged, pearly skin, all these gained by contrast with the somber setting. “How charmingly pretty your daugh- ier is!” LadyCaroline Carlton observed, gazing through her gold-rimmed glass- es at the little group formed by her tall ‘son and the two girls under a big ‘beech tree that faced the French win- tdow; and Mrs. Leger’s heart beat high with pride and hope as she an- swered, with affected carelessness: Ruth is rather a pretty girl.” Is that Mrs. Santley’s name?’ the great lady ed, with a little lan- guil interest in her tone. Mrs. Leger was forced to admit that spoken of her other daughter. s! Miss Leger is quite an- but there is a story to be Santley’s face. Perhaps t one knows of her great es. but I s read in M the fact th sorrow one fanciful; think her ¢ jon quite lovely!” Mrs. Le ened to the praise of nt- her elder daughter with the pl est smile she could assume. It flattering enough, no doubt, in its way; but it was not just what she wished for just then. Why could not her la- dyship see some charm in Ruth, to whom her friendship and countenance would be valuable, rather than in Grace, to whom they were of no inter- est? But Lady Caroline was not a person likely to be dictated to in her capri- cious fancie ; Mrs. Leger soon found out. She was a small, delicate-looking wor whose exc ive fragility of appearance veiled a very resolute will, possessed of an odd mingling worldliness and romantic sentiment. Mrs. Leger would have been surprised had she known how much the latter element had had to do with her visit to River View that day. “I wished so much for a little talk with you, Mrs. Santley,” the great lady said, a little later on, when, in her quietly-resolute fashion, she had con- trived to secure Grace for a tete-a- tete. “I have heard so much about you that you seem quite like an old friend.” “You have heard about me?’ Grace echoed, opening her blue eyes in sur- prise, and looking, as her ladyship thought, delightfully-innocent and prev ty. “From whom, Lady Caroline?” “From a very old friend of yours and mine—a friend of my son, who hopes to rerew his acquaintance with you to- day.” The speaker never moved her sharp, bright eyes from the girl’s puzzled face. She was aware all the time that two tall figures were crossing the lawn and coming towards them with rapid steps, and knew, with a little thrill of pleasure, that she was taking a. modest part in a drama of love and surprise. ‘the steps drew nearer and nearer; a shadow fell across the small, sunlit spot; Grace raised her eyes and saw something that made her heart almost stop beating, and drove all the color from her face. “Ah, Vincent, here you are at last!” Lady Caroline said, cordially. “Mrs. Santley, I need not apologise for bring- ing an uninvited friend, nor is it neces- sary that I should introduce you to Mr. Vincent Erle.” 4 * * * * * * = “I am sure you will understand that it was not my fault;” and Vincent Erle spoke coldly and stiffly. “I did not even know that you were here, or that it was your mother’s house. I reached the Carltons’ place to-day, and Lady Caroline asked me to accompany her here, little thinking how unwelcome a guest she brought.” His face was rigidly calm, but his dark eyes flashed angrily, and his voice trembled a little over the last words. Grace did not reply. ‘The others had all drifted away in some mysterious fashion, and the old lovers were alone together once more. There was horri- ble confusion in the girl’s thoughts, and a@ dreadful, bewildering sense of unre- and wa of shrewd i ality. She heard the hum of merry voices mingling with the tender strains of “Ehren on the Rhine,” and saw the bright sunshine falling aslant the green branches of the trees and touching her lover's eager, angry face. She was stu- pidly silent, almost believing that she xaw and heard all in a dream. “Oh, love, dear love, be true!” was the burden of the melody rendered by the band; andthe words found a cruel echo in Grace Santley’s thoughts. Had she not been doubly false—false to this man, to whom her first love had been given, and false now to the dead? For was there not treason to Herbert Santley in the wicked gladness that | she felt in once more being in Vincent Erle’s company? “You do net answer me,” the man said, sternly; “you will not accept my exeuse. You doubt it, perhaps, though heaven knows I was as anxious as you could ever be that we should never meet again. Good morning, Mrs. Sant- Mr. Erle spoke with desperate ener- gy, and turned away; but a ery that broke involuntarily from the girl’s pale lips arrested his departure. ‘You spoke, I think?’ he remarked, with a resolute effort to maintain his studied coldness; then, as he looked at the young widow’s pale face and quiv- ering lips, the blue, beseeching eyes, that turned so piteously to his, the pent-up passion that swelled his heart aimost to bursting broke forth in eager and reproachful speech, “Oh, Grace! A hundred times I have imagined our meeting; but I never thought you would have been so cruel to me us you have been to-day!” He caught beth her hands and held them im close, convulsive pressure; he looked down into the very depths of the tender, trusting eyes, and read something there that made his pulses threb more quickly—something before which his pain and anger vanished, as mist vanishes before the rising sun. “Was I cruel?’ the girl asked, con fusedly, yielding to the strange charm of the man’s presence. ‘I think not, Vincent! I was only startled, and so very, very glad!” It was the most innocent of confes- siows, and the most absolute and com- plete. Vincent Erle raised to his lips the hands he held, but inwardly thanked heaven that his cause wa won. Mr. Erle said no more then, as self- restraint was easy in the circumstane- es; but on the faces of the man and woman who walked back so quietly together to join the general group on the lawn, there shone the serene radi- ance of a great joy and content. Mrs. Leger was by no means pleas- antly surprised to see her daughter re- appear by her old lover's side; and the welcome Vincent Hrle received at her hands was of the coldest possible de- scription. Indeed, only the fact that he came as the friend of the all-impor- tant Carltons saved him from a down- right snub. But Vincent bore Mrs. Leger’s frigid- ity with good-tempered indifference, feeling too happy to resent anything just then. He gladly turned to catch Ruth’s eage utstretched hands, as the girl came flying across the lawn to greet her old playfellow and friend. ‘Oh, Vincent, you dear old fellow she cried, her bright hazel eyes shining with an affectionate delight that caused Tom Carlton to envy his friend, w good of you to come! I began to that we should never ‘eect So did I, Ruth!” Vincent looking down at the eager little creature with his kind, grave smile. “Lady ‘oline brought me, as I thought, to the house of a stranger; but I find myself among old friends!” “Whom you would not have visited of your own free will?’ Ruth queried, with a shrewd little nod. “I love Lady Caroline for playing you the trick!” “That's awful nice of you, Miss Leg- er.” ‘Tom Carlton interpolated; ‘but you must love me, too, you know, for I assure you that I helped my mother to deceive him for his own good. We are equally meritorious; and T do not see why all the reward should fall to her share.” Ruth answered only by a demure glance from under her long lashes; and the two strolled off together. The sight of the comely young pair, who were evidently on such excellent terms, did much to restore to Mrs. Leger the equanimity that Vincent Erle’s appear- ance had disturbed; but her enjoy- ment was spoiled for the rest of the day, all the same. “‘Our very wishes give us not our swish” ” she quoted, gloomily, as she watched the lingering parting between Grace Santley and the man whom she had given up at her mother’s bidding, but whom fate had so strangely thrown across her path once more. “E was so proud of my victory—so glad to drag Grace out of her retreat; but now { wish, with all my heart, that I bad left her there, for who knows what will happen next?” A thousand agonizing possibilities flashed through the woman’s mind. She had a conviction that her pleasant domestic reign was over, and it filled Yer with an angry bitterness that was all the fiercer, because in her heart she knew that it was impotent. Vincent Erle might, for all she knew, be poorer than he was when, five years previously, he had asked her for her daughter's hand, and had received the contemptuous refusal she would so gladly re-echo. But how widely different was race's position now! Free, rich, inde- pendent in every way, she was abso- lutely beyond control, and, having married once to please her mother, she would naturally make her own choice this time. ‘And Grace’s marriage would mean ruin to them! Tears that seemed to scald rose in Mrs. Leger’s eyes as she thought of that. She remembered, al- most for the first time since she had assumed the reins of government, how absolutely all that she dispensed so freely belonged to her obedient and unassuming ehild. The idea that Grace was the real mistress—that hers was put a delegated power—stung her sharply. Ruth, coming in, full of the delights and triumphs of the day, found her mother in this perturbed frame of mind, and drew the vials of wrath down upon herself by her very first re- mark. “Was it not nice of Lady Caroline to bring Vincent, mother? I believe I was ’ as pleased as—as Grace herself to see him again!” “I see no reason for rapture in Mr. Erle's visit, Ruth, neither do I under- stand why you couple your sister's ;name with his,” Mrs. Leger answered, sternly, causing Ruth to open her | bright eyes in innocent wonder. ' “Mr. Erle! He was always ‘Vincent’ to me and Grace.” She paused, and a curicusly-tender and sympathetic light softened the brilliant hazel eyes. | “Mother, I told Grace last night that she must be happy from to-day. 1 , 1 think she is, and will be in the fut- ure.” “And I think that you are a romantic , little idiot!” remarked Mrs. Leger, her face flushing and her voice trembling with indignant scorn. “Of course, I understand your hint; but, if you had one grain of sense, you would see that the ‘happiness’ you invoke for Grace is ‘a terrible danger for us. But I must tight all the battles of life for myself. 1 suppose I must never expect my daughter to help me!” “I think that Grace, at least, has helped you, mother,” Ruth retorted, with a touch of thosspirit she undoubt- ecly possessed. “And it is precisely of that help you wish to rob me! Do you not know that, if Grace marries Vincent Erle, as you evidently wish her to do, he will be the master of her money, and we shall be as poor as we were before?” Ruth listened with hot cheeks and a iook of pain and mortification in her bright, honest eyes. It was true, as her mother said, that, if Grace re- ‘married, the larger part of their in- come would go. And it would be by means pleasant to leave River iew and return to dull London lodg- —from plenty to the old, pinching s. But, to Ruth Leger’s brave, un- seltish spirit, it was far worse to hear her mother place these sordid -consid- erations before all thought of her daughter's happiness. than to face the reality fof the worst picture her frightenéd fancy drew. The girl did not answer, but drew patterns on the carpet with her small,pointed shoe, while her mother continued, queru- lously: “The worst of it is, I have only my- self to blame. If I had allowed Grace to indulge her natural inclination, and had not forced her to quit ker solitude and mingle again in society, this mis- erable contretemps would neyer have happened. She would never have met Vincent Erle, and would have re- mained well content.” ‘© waste her life in morbid misery, while we made free with Ler money!” Ruth exclaimed, warmly, her eyes flashing with a generous, youthful scorn for the cold-blooded selfishness that dictated such a speech. “Mother, if you forget that she is your child, I cannot forget that Grace has been the sweetest and most generous sister a girl ever had. She has done all she could for us—it is now our turn to con- sider her. Even if her marriage leaves us without a penny in the world, I will help her to be happy if I can!” Breathless with anger, Mrs.. Leger listened until the girl’s passion had ex- hausted itself and her fluent speech had ceased. hen, rising, with a look of severe dignity, the elder lady point- ‘ed ¢owards the door, and said, in her most frigid tones: “Such devotion to your rich sister is most touching! Oblige me by remain- ing in your own room until you, re- member that you owe some duty to your unfortunate mother!” Already repentant for her disrespect- ful outbr , crimsoning resentfully at the punishment that seemed to reduce the radiant young beauty of the day to the level of a mere schoolgirl once more, Ruth stole away meekly and Bh rably, while Mrs. Leger, too,shed tears, but tears of rage, as she ponder- ed the girl’s defiant parting words. But, if the day that began so brightly for both mdther and daughter ended in this dismal fashion, it left a consola- tion with each; for Ruth’s last unself- ish thought, as she dropped off to sleep in her undignified imprisonment, was of the new joy that dawned for Grace, and Mrs. Leger comforted herself with the reflection that she had at least been able to avenge her own misery by spoiling another person’s pleasure. Not an amiable,reflection, perhaps, but still a consolation in its way. (To Be Continued.) A Nose Show. We have heard of baby shows, beauty shows, and barmaid shows, but for the first time we have come across a report of a nose show. This took place at Milan a few months ago, and secms to have been at Ieast the second of its kine. Duly appointed judges sat in 2 room surrounded by drawings of the principal nasal types, and with in- struments of measurement of the cal- iper kind on the table. There were twenty-three candidates who competed for three prizes. What the standard of excellence in a nose may be we have not yet learned, but the winner on the occasion received a certificate inform- ing him that, among other beauties, his nese was “trenchant, like a knife blade.”—From the Philadelphia In- quirer. A Confused Impression, “Did you say de president of thes= United States done had a degree be stowed on him,” said Miss Miamt Brown. “Yes,” answered Mr. Erastus Pink- ley. Whut kin’ of a degree?” “I doesn’ know exackly. But I doesn’ eale’late ft wah anyfing less dan a bun- dred in de shade.”—Washington Star. Learning Substraction Also. “Yes sir,’ produly exclaimed the haughty Castillian; “Spain is adding nobly to her history these days.” “That’s true!” remarked a more thoughtful senor; “but doesn’t it strike you that she is not doing the same thing by her geography ?’—Puck. Neighborly. Mrs. Nooritch—1 suppose you have noticed little Johnnie’s awful lapses in grammar? I really must keep him from the servants.” The Neighbor—“Really? I was of the opinion that he had learned them from his gradfather.”—Indianapolis Journal. tate a re It Did Not Apply. Mr. Wallace—Dolce far niente, I be- lieve, means a sweet doing nothing. Mrs. Wallace—It won't apply to that jam I made, for that has begun to work.—Cincinnati Enquirer. OUR BUDGET OF FUN. — CatarrhCured SOME GOOD JOKES, ORIGINAL | pico Purified by Hood’s Sarsapa- AND SELECTED. A Variety of Jokes—Jibes and Ironies Original and Selected—Flotsam and Jetsam from the Tide of Humor—~ Witty Sayings. Bamboozling Mamma. “He never shall wed My daughter,” she said, “She shall never be his with my con- sent!” She had money to throw To the winds that blow, And freely she gave her feelings vent. The maiden was fair, And her mother had hair Of the color that’s commonly known as red; The man in the case Had an innocent face, But plenty of gray matter stored in his head. “He never shall wed My daughter,” she said, “Never with my consent,” said she; But the fellow knew Of a trick or two, And he courted and waited patiently. Her hair was red, As has been said— One day he referred to her “auburn hair’; She had scorned him once And called him a dunce, But be won her approval then and there. Of Course, Father—“I thought you was goin’ to marry Miss May?” i Son—“Yes, pop, but last summer she was engaged to every city fellow here, and this summer to all the soldiers.” Resented His Insinuation. The sympathetic old lady looked at ‘him with pity, as he sat there eating the moldy crust that she had fished out of the bread box. “What,” she asked, after he had | gulped down the last mouthful, “is the matter with your foot? I see that you have a quilt tied around it.” “Ma’am,” replied Ragged Rube, “dat’s de result of high livin’. I’ve got ; a bad case of gout from meetin’ so | many people like you dat insist on | stuffin’ me wid dainty luxuries.” “The horrible, Sarcastic thing,” she exclaimed, as he hobbled out the gate, “if he ever comes around here again, YH scald him.”—Exchange. Modern Transmigration. “Often when I look at you,” he said to the beautiful woman whom he had met in North Dakota, “it seems as if I must have known you in some former state.” “Well ,that isn’t very wonderful,” she replied. “You used to know me in two former states—when I was mar- ried and living in New Jersey. Tom, don’t you remember Nell Giddington?” Then it all came back to him, and he confessed that he had gone out there for the same purpose, Unlimited. St. Louis Citizen—‘I read in the rail- way notes this morning that the Chi- cago Limited——” Chicago Citizen—“Say, you must rilla and Health is Good. “J was a sufferer from catarrh. One of my neighbors advised me to take Hood’s Sarsaparilla and I did so. A few bottles purified my blood and cured me. I have remained in good health ever since.” Jas. 'T, Apxuys, Athensville, Illinois. ; Hood’s Sarsaparilla Is America’s Greatest Medicine. $1; six for $5. Hood’s Pills cure all Liver Ills. 25 cents. No Hero, ‘Tonimy—Are you a nirate? Longshoreman—Lor’ no, sir! Tommy—A smuggler, then? Longshoremsn—No, nor that neither: Tommy—Oh, dear! Would you kill a Frenchman if you saw one? Longshoreman — Don’t should, sir! Tommy—Well, I ‘don’t think much of you, that’s all ‘un. reckon I How's Thist ‘Wo offer One Hundred Dollars reward forany case of Catarrh that cannot be cured by Hall's Catarrh Cure. F. J. CHENEY & CO., Toledo, 0. We, the undersigned, have ‘known 'P. J. Cheney for the last 15 years and believe him perfectly honorable {n all business transactions and financially able to carry out any obliga- tions made by their firm. Wenv/& 'Tranx, Wholesale Druggists, Toledo, 0.; Walding, Kinnan & Marvin, Wholesale Druggists, Toledo, Ohio. Hall's Catarrh Cure {3 taken internally, act- ing directly upon the blood and mucous surfaces of the system. T nials sent free Price ‘be per bottle. by all drugrist= Hall's Family Pills are the best No Outward Sign, “I’m told that Squallinger has be- come a Christian.” “I don’t believe it. I saw him throw a banana skin on the sidewalk the oth- er day.”—Chicago Tribune. AB. & O. Denial. The Baltimore & Ohio Railroad is not going to adopt the Raub locomotive for service between New York and Washing- ton, as has been stated. The motive power department of this railroad has jooked upon the rumor with considerable amusement, as within the past year and a half the Royal Blue trains have been hauled by the finest, fastest and strong- est ten-wheel passenger engines in the world. These locomotives have 78-inch drivers, and since they have been in serv- ice have proved so eminently satisfactory that nothing better can probably be se- cured. It will be remembered that one of these magnificent new locomotives, the 1313, pulled Vice President-Elect Hobart on March 2, 1896, from Philadelphia to Washington in 136 minutes, a distance of 125 miles, and made one five-minute stop. They frequently run eighty-five miles an hour with six and eight cars, so the Bal- timore & Ohio Railroad is under no ne- cessity of changing its type of passenger motive power on the Royal Blue Line, and experiment with a locomotive whose use- fulness has yet to be demonstrated. Had Seen One. “Did you ever see_a horse race that you could say was absolutely honest?” “I think I did, wunst.” said Rubber- neck Bill, “The feller what was ahead had stoled the hoss.”’-— Indianapolis Journal. “A Perfect Type of the Highest Order of Excellence in Manufacture.”’ Absolutely Pure, | | a Delicious, U 3 Nutritious. _tosts Less Than ONE CENT a Gap. _ Be sure that youget the Genuine Article, made at DORCHESTER, MASS. by WALTER BAKER & CO. Ltd. Estasuisnup 1780. YANKEE PIND GOVERIOS Saye one-half the motive power on Hand Pum; or Wind Mills. Can be applied toany pump. Witt wear twenty years, ae hee punrp or mill works hard, buy one. Ifnot found as represented after thirty days’ trial, return it and we will send you yourmoney. Price $3.00. Agents Wanted, Can clear $10) have read that in one of your village | Pet month. No talking; it speaks for itself, papers. You ought to know that Chi- cago has no limit.”—Chicago News, A Wise Surgeon. with your regiment?” He—“The surgeon-major looked me, thought a minute, and then shook his head.” At the Slot Machi: He walked two miles to save a nickel, For he felt that he must economize; Then he spent a dollar vainly trying ‘To win a little ten-cent prize, BANE MFG, CO., WASECA, MINN. Whiskers Dyed pee A Hatural Black by .2¢ Buckingham’ Dye, Price 60 cents of all druggists or ion! of mucous membranes. i Painless, and a \TieEvans CHewicaLGo, gent or poisonous, tt Sold by or sent in plain wrapper, by express, t 0, or 3 Tattle $35, ig “<< ireular sent on reai JOHN W.MOR: NSION Washingrots Buc? ims. Late. sims 8. sion Syrainlast wat, 1ondjudleating claims atty ste. DROPS Y rierisrovery ctr quick relief and cures worst: send for book of testi eee ed ‘WANTED—Case of bad he [-P-A-N- will uot benedt. Sends cents to ipsns’ Chotileal Co., New York, for 10 samples and 1,000 testimonials. secured Ormoneyallreturned. Search free. She—“How is it you are not away PATENT cstuner'ecs 234 Fst. Wash. D.C. Md