Grand Rapids Herald-Review Newspaper, May 13, 1899, Page 6

J Frozen Heart, A THRILLING LOWE STORY. BY FRANCES WARNER WALKER. CHAPTER IV. (Continued.) But his last words were mercifully unheard. Florence had fallen in a dead swoon at his-feet. He looked at her’a moment, then crossed the room, and vi- olently rang the bell, Marie not long in appearing, her eyes swollen and red with weeping. “Attend to your mistress. She is ill,” he ordered, curtly. xu Then, without vouchsafing a second glance to that prostrate figure, he litted the portiere and passed into his own rocms. CHAPTER V. ©lorence was too weak, too.stunned, to resist, when, having recovered con- sciousness, Marie held draught to her lips. Had the.cup ¢on- ained a deadly poison, she would still —unbesitatingly, perhaps with, greater alacrity—have swallowed its contents. As it was, it was nearly noon when she Lifted her heavy lids and looked won- deringly about the darkened room, en- deavoring to recall the events of the previous night. All too soon, too read- ily, they shaped themselves before her mental vision, and the dull pain at her heart sharpened into keen and exquis- ite agony. “Marie!” she called, softly, and in- stantly the faithful, girl stood beside her. “Madame?” she answered. “Help me to dress, Marie. I have slept too long. It must be late, and I ame. ing for his coffee, and Jean packed a He called very early this morn- vali be going on some journey. note, however, for madame. strong enough to read it?” “Yes, yes!” Florence answered, im- patiently. Marie drew the letter from the pock- et of her dress; then crossed the room to open the blind and let in sufficiem Zight by which it might be read. But even in that momentary delay, Florence had found time to speculate on its contents. Her husband had repented of his cruelty. His nobler, better nature had reasserted itself. He had resolved, if, indeed, it were true, that the marriage was not legal, to make it so; and he would not meet her until he had taken some step to atone for the terrible injustice and wrong he had inflicted upon her innocence ana confiding faith. Thus she ,reasoned as, with trem- bling fingers, she broke the seal—his his crest—a serpent charming « —ai strange and appropriate de > for him, so I thought he might He left a Are you vice! But if her hand strembled as she opened and unfolded the sheet, the bold eharacters.upon it showed no sigh of such feminine weakness, They were clearly impressed. She needed little ligbt to see and decipher thei. “I fear, dear Florence, aid the let- ter, “from our interview last evening, and the scene which preceded it, thar you are inclined to be unreasonable; and of a woman’s unreasonableness I have all a man’s horror. Therefore, I have determined to spend a few days out of town. Iam extfemely sorry that you should view maiters as you do. If you persist in thus regarding them, it we better, I think, that we should not, for the present, meet; but if, on the contrary, you will cease to be a ehild and become a sensible woman note addressed to my club will alway: find me. No amount of rebellion will do ay with facts; therefore, my dear Flicrence, why not accept them? Of course, your account at your banker's stands as it always has done. Draw on it without reserve. A toi! —Louis.” iftly her eyes glanced over the heartless, cruel words. Would they kill her love? Not yet. It,still hun- gered, still burning; for to kill it was to take from her all that was best. She crushed the paper in her fingers, and the small, white teeth were firmly locked together. At that instant Marie appeared with a small packet, which she laid upon the bed. “For madam,” she said. Nerved to control, Florence took and opened it.. A velvet case was beneath the wrappings, and within a bracelet, set in precious stones of great value and of exquisite workmanship, to which her husband's card was at- tached. Her eyes blazed with the diamonds’ own fire as she realized that thus. he would tempt her to shame. The last remnant of softness died. “Give this back to the messenger, Marie,” she ordered. “Say to him that it is a mistake, which, later, Monsieur Gervase will explain. Then return quickly; I must dress.’ ’ Silently and swiftly the girl obeyed, repressing the exclamation which half- rose to her lips. é Shaking off the faintness which op- pressed her, Florence rose and dressed. Searcely was her toilet completed than the clock struck 1, and five min- utes later Harry Arkwright’s card was banded her. She remembered that she had not even thanked him for his protection when she had so sadly needed it. She could do so now, as though she were thanking him for someone else, not her- self. , Her eyes were dry and tearless; her eheeks pale, with the crimson spot staining them. But, as with the air and bearing of a queen, she entered the drawing room, the man standing there to receive her, his very heart throbbing in generous sympathy, suddenly felt his usual ease desert him, and a strange sense of embarrassment take its place. He was prepared to meét a wronged and injured and unhappy girl; but the woman who held out to him one little ERE, a_ sleeping hand froze words of sympathy upon his very lips. “It was kind of you to come,” she said. And the low music of her voice broke the spell which bound him. Once more he was back to the old parsonage parlor; once more he saw the girl sitting there, in her simple, white dress, which, in his young chival- ry, he had told himself was as white and stainless as her soul. He could never tell her how, through the lorg years, that evenin pt:d been his lodestar ainbition; how he had gone out into the night with his friend, si- lent and dreaming; and how, as time went on, he realized that in those few short hours his heart had departed for- jever from his keeping. The death of his father had called him home almost immediately after that meeting, and for nearly two years he had been compelled to remain there and attend to his duties as the sole ex- ecutor of a large estate. Then he returned to England with one hope, one dream, one ambition—too woo and win Florence Vane for his wife. He returned to find the most cruel of all awakenings, for the woman he loved was already the wife of an- other, more beautiful, more radiant than even his memory had pictured her, but lost to him forever. For three months he had been in Par- is. Sometimes she had passed him in her carriage on the Bois, giving to him the careless, unrecognizing glance she gave to all the rest of the unknown crowd. Sometimes he had been able, at the opera or theater, to fix his glass- es upon her. He had seen the fond pride with which she had turned to her husband whenever she addressed him, and in her happiness he had found the only consolation he could claim. 2ut last night he knew that this cas- tle had been built, too, upon the sands. He would have been content to have buried his 6wn dreams in its ruins, but, lo! body and soul, it crushed her in its fall! Kind of me?’ he echoed, holding rarm and tight in both his hands the tle, icy fingers. “Let me but serve you, and it is. you who will show me the kindness, and make me always your debtor. You are very good; but no one can serve me, I think. And yet, tell me, car a man go through a marriage cere- mony with a girl who firmly believes he is making her his wife, and then de- ny her claim? Is it possible a wrong so great, so cruel, could be perpetrat- ea?” “I fear it is. But tell me the circum- ances of your marriage. He would rdly dare, I think, shield himself from the consequences of such an ac- tion behind so glaring a fraud.” “Ah, he would say I, too, were a par- ty to it, and consented, for purposes of my own. He is very wealthy, and his position so assured that I could not as- sail it. I signed my name to some pa- per. I did not know what it contained at the timg. I was numbed with ex- citerment and fear. I obeyed him blind- [ly. We had cro: ed the channel from Londen, and were married in Paris, in the early morning. He told me after- ward that I had sworn in that paper that I was an orphan, and had lived six months in France. Of course, such an oath might make it all invalid. His influence made the paper good. Whether he bribed I did not know; but all France—all Paris, shall right st me yet. Merciful Heaven! What am A ae She clasped her hands above her head in agonizing appeal. For a mo- | ment the man was tempted to reply: You are the woman whom I love. jif you are nameless, let me give you my uame. If you are homeless, I have my home.” But he could not speak such words. She must be righted if it were within the power of the law to right her. No selfish hopes or des! must influence him. Besides, what was he to her? A very stock of stone, a plank to be laid across a bridgeless stream—nothing more. “If Dalrymple were here, he might help us,” he said, thoughtfully. “His family would give him no aid, but. his name itself would carry weight, inas- much as he succeeds to the title when his brother dies, and Lord Montfort’s life hangs on a thread. He has had an affection of the heart for many years.” An expression of wondering surprise was upon Florence’s face. “What can you be talking of?’ she questioned, slowly. “What possible in- terest can anyone by the name of Dal- rymple take in my affairs? Why should he interest himself in me?’ “Is it possible you do not know?” he said. : “Know what?’ she answered. “That Herbert Dalrymple was mar- ried six month ago to your sister Dor- othy.” “Dorothy?’ she echoed. ‘My little sister married, and I not even con- scious of it—I in ignerance even of her husband’s name? Oh, they must, in- deed, have thought badly of me at home, that they sent me no word! But she is only a child to marry, Yet, 1 forget. I am no, older than she in years, but in all else—in all else—ah, my darling never will grow as old as I am! But tell me of this man whom she has married. I forget myself and all my ewn misery in thinking of her. He is great and rich, you say? He will one day be one of England’s lords?” “The latter, yes; but he is neither great nor rich new. His mother is a woman of immense pride and arro- gance. She was very angry that he wished to marry one whom she termed so far beneath him,” “She told him that never would she give her.consent. Not only would she cut off the allowance which he then enjoyed, but thought she could prevent his ipheritance of the title, and a small | estate all insufficient to maintain it, at his brother’s death, she would never, during life nor at her death, allow him a penny of her own large private for- tune. In her own right she was one of England’s greatest heiresses. “Herbert showed me the letter in which she uncompromisingly laid this before him, but his purpose never swerved. “T will go out to your country, my boy,’ he said, ‘where all men are equal? I have a few hundreds of my own a year, and I’m not afraid to work, with Dorothy my incentive. I love her, an:l I'll marry her, not break her heart and mine, because her father was not born a peer.” And he kept word—he married her,” “How long ago was this” “Six months ago.” “But my father—she alone?” An expression of absolute consterna- tion now was depicted on Henry Ar right’s face. “Your father?’ he repeated, slowly. She saw the trouble her simple words had caused. . “Yes, my fathe she repeated. “I wrote once, twice, but he sent me no reply. Tell me of my, father?’ “From the time of your flight they say he never lifted his head. If you ‘ote him, he never received the let- 's. Three months after you marriage he diced!” One dry sob burst from the agonized woman’s white, quivering lips; then, with dry, tearless but burning eyes, she murmured, so low that he could scarcely catch the words: “it needed j only this!) Truly, my sin has found me out!” and would have fallen to the floor, but that he caught her in his armrs. left him CHAPTER VI. All day he and Marie watched beside her So quietly did he adapt himself to the strange post that not even among the little household did it awaken sur- prise. Doubtless it was some old friend of madame’s, and he had brought her news of her father’s death. Florence's condition gave him great uneasiness. She was wholly conscious —but sat staring before her with wide- open eyes into vacancy, neither speak- ing nor moving. In vain he tried to rouse her. Toward evening he summoned a physician. The latter instantly ad- ministered a powerful anodyne. “Six hours more of such a strain,” he said, “might result in hopeless in- sanity.” At noon the next day he came again. Harry Arkwright was already at his D “She is better?” he asked, anxious! “Yes, better; but her mind must be | distracted. Where is monsieur?’ “Monsieur Gervase is out of town. “Ah, yes,” assented the ph | “I remember reading in y journal that he was spending a few days at the country seat of the young Countess @’Aubigny—” “Hush!” — interrupted Arkwright, couch; but, if Florence had heard the words, no change betrayed it in the beautiful, rigid features—only a little later, when the physician had depart ed, she softly called Mari “Send everyone away. Marie— I am quiet. I want to sleep, and there must be no one in the house. Send the servent out, and ask Mr. Arkwright to go, too. I will see him later in the day.” When the girl returned from the er- rand on which she had dispatched her, she found her mistress sitting half up on the lounge. “I want you to dress me quickly, Marie, and give me my plainest dress. I must go out immediately.” “But, madame, you Cannot go,” re- monstrated Marie, “you are not able. Madame has been and is still very ill “It matters not; I must go at once at ence, do you hear? We. are losing time, and every moment is precious to me!” Half an hour later, Florence Gervase, unattended, found herself alone upon the broad avenue where was situated the house she had so long called home. Marie’s prayer to accompany her, she had refused. She had in her mind one definite purpose, and it must be ac- complished alone. Beckoning to the driver of an empty carriage, she sprang in and gave direc- tions to be driven to a distant railway station. Leaning her head back against the cushions and closing her eyes, she paid no further heed until the carriage stop- ped; then, passing the man the first coin she found in her purse, regardless of his blank look of amazement at its value, she entered the station, to find she must wait there an hour before a train left for the place she wished to make her destination. Quietly she took her seat in the com- fortless waiting room, and seemed to again sink into a sort of lethargy, from which she was roused with a start by the bustle of passengers hurrying from their places in the train. Mechanically she followed them, many curious glances following the beautiful woman who was so oblivious to all about her. The first-class carriage which she entered was empty. The guard closed and locked the door, and the train moved off. Two hours later she stepped out at a little, quiet wayside stopping place. One carriage stood near. “You know the Countess d'Aubig- ny’s place?” she said. The man smiled, and answered yes, respectfully touching his hat. It was not often he drove such a fare to such a destination, Generally the countess’ own carriage met her guests. But the season was late now, and the ctateau was almost deserted. It was but a whim of the countess to run Gown here from time to time. It had grown quite dark when the lodge was reached. She bade the driv- er stop outside the gates, and entered them on foot. A powdered flunkey, in gorgeous livery, answered her peal at the bell. “Madame la comtesse, home?” she asked, The man stared in undisguised amaze at the beautiful woman who came on foot to the chateau of the countess alone and unattended, and yet ad- dressed him with the imperious man- ner of a princess. He hesitated a mo- ment in uncertainty. ‘ “Madame dines,’ he said,stammer- ingly. “Unless important, she would not wish to be disturbed.” But as he spoke Flornece stepped is she at casting an anxious glance toward the | 1 | { him. ; whem rage had rendered speechles: within, where the light more fully | streamed upon her. “You need not announce me to your mistress,” she said, imperiously. “Lead the way and I will follow, you to the dining hall. If I mistake not, Mon- sieur Gervase is her guest to-night at dinner?” “Yes, madame,” replied the man, but making no attempt to move in the di- rection indicated. “™) Ove herself np to her full higin. “IT am Madame Ge ”” she said. “Show me the dining hal No longer he dared refuse to obey. A moment after he threw wide open the folding doors, which ied from a marble ante-reom filled with plan and with a fountain of colored wate in its center, into a small but exquis ite apartment, where sat, at a round table, ornamented with choicest fruit and flowers, two persons. They both turned, the man starting to his feet, the woman sitting quiet. with a supercilious smile upon her lips, as the lackey, in clear, ringing tones, anncunced: “Madame Gervase!”’ One moment Florence stood motion- less, surveying the scene which met her view; then she advanced steadily into the room, and paused but a few feet distant from where the countess Sat, Louis Gervase’ face grew livid with ¥vrath. He looked from one woman to the other, and half-opened his lips to speak, but could think of no words tu utter. “Madame,” began Florence, “my vis- it to-night is to you, not to my hus- band—for, deny me though he may, he is my husband, as I hope to prove to you. I did very wrong, perhaps, the other night, when I so publicly assert- ed my claim. If you were ignorant of it, you should not have suffered for his fault; but if you have ever loved, “nd suffered from the pangs of jealou you can forgive the impulse whi prompted my act. “I have been married, madame, a lit- tle over a year. I was not a great la- dy, like yourself. I brought to my hus- band neither dowr nor title, save the dower of my love and the title of my purity. I loved him so well that, for his sake, I left father, sister, home. “Only last night I learned the full measure of my crime. It killed my father. In reality, I murdered him. But I loved this man so well that for his sake I gave up all and followed I did not know that he was rich; I never thought of it. He brought me to Paris, and there made me his wife. He swore to kill himself if I would not consent to this step. How could I know he used the threat only as a ever to move my will? “Well, as I say, we were married. For six months T was happy—supreme- ly, wickedly happy—then the first cloud crept into my sky. Louis’ devo tion lessened, but always, always, I hoped to win him back. “That very night I saw you with him at the opera, I had dressed to pli his eye, to win his smile. I had heard of his attentions to you. Someone, that evening, sent me an anonymous note, telling me where I might find you together. “Without fixed plan or purpose other than that, I went to the opera. You know what happened there; but you do not, cannot know, that that same night he returned to his home only to confirm, with fresh cruelty, what he had there told me. He acknowiedged that he had cheated and duped me, and he bade me accept my fate. “Ah, madame, you are young, as I am young—more beautiful than [! You are rich and powerful; I am poor hameless, since he denies me the ri even to his name. You have over him the influence I have lost, “For the sake of our common wo- manhood, throw off whatever spell he may have exerted over you, and bid him repair the cruel, wicked wrong he has committed! Look in his eyes and ask him if one word I have uttered is not true. “I am not of your country nor his. Even my wrongs must ring out in a fereizn tongue; but, ch, madame, you will listen—you will heed!” It had been impossible to stem the torrent of her words; but Adele d’Au- bigny, save that the white, jeweled hands were interlocked a little more tightly as they lay in her lap, gave no other sign that. they had penetrated beyond her hearing. She turned now a toward the man “Louis,” she said—and Florence’s eyes blazed as she caught the intona- tion which she gave the name—‘Louis, I scarcely can ask my servants to show Madame Gervase my doors, if it is true that she possesses any title to that name; but, otherwise, I find this secne only a shade less disagreeable than the one she previously enacted for my _ benefit. Shall I ring for Jacques or no?” “Ring!” he answered, eurtly; but he fairly hissed the word from between his set teeth. The countess stretched forth her hand toward a tiny gold bell within her reach. But Florence made one quick step forward and caught her arm. For the first time, the eyes of the two beautiful women met, flashing de- fiance and disdain. “How dare you summon your hire- lings to thrust from your presence the wife, while the husband is yom guest?” she said. “I came here to-night to make my appeal to you. Your own heart tells you that each word I have uttered is the simple truth, and yet you dare turn me from your doors, which open to admit him!’and she empha- sized the latter word by one glance of burning scorn. “You need not sum- mon your men; I will go. But beware, both of you! To-night you thrust me into the darkness, while you remain in the light. One day the picture will be reversed. I am no longer a helpiess girl, but a desperate woman; and you have made me so—you and he. In vain I have appealed to you, to him; I now appeal to Heaven’s higher power!” With a quick movement, Louis Ger- vase stretched out his hand and rang the bell, from which she had withheld the arm of the countess. Instantly the lackey who had admit- ted her appeared. “Show this person the door, Jac- ques!” commanded his mistress, “Jtemember,” said Florence, turning to her husband, “what I am from to- night you have made me!” and so fol- lowed the man with imperious mien, as one summoned to audience of roy- alty. (To be Continued.) sate Advice. The Sport—So yer dropped some mon- ey on the Milwaukee Chicken, did yer? The Chappie—Weil, I saw him box, and I thought he’d win. The Sport—Well, de nex’ time, yer jes’ ask somebody dat knows, an’ don’t try to do any tinkin’—Puck. China's Powerful Sword, There is a dreadful sword in China. It gives to the holder power to cut off the head of anyone he wishes without punishment. All people fiee from this as stomach ills flee before the ch of Hostetter’s Stomach Bit- This famous remedy cures all forms of stomach troubles. His Speech Impaired. First Deaf Mute (on his fingers)— Too bad about Walker losing one of his fingers. A Second Deaf Mute (ditto)—Yes; it Pau quite an impediment in his speech.—Ohio State Journal. List of Patents Issued Last Week to Northwestern Inventors pen. George Bruhn, Winona, Minn., auto- yagon brake; James J. Gustat, Lowville, Minn., device for finding de enters; Nels Hockerson, Jr., Ma- tine Mills, Minn., pole d neck yoke coupling; William H. Loomis, St. Pe- ter, Minn., sliding door loc Robinson, Minneapolis, Minn., life-sav- ing guard for street cars. Merwin, Lothrop & Johnson, Patent At- torneys, 910 Pioneer Press Bldg., St. Paul. She’ll Do the Talking. “John,” said Mrs. Bilkins, “I don’t believe Tom will ever marry. He is too bashful to ever propose to a wo- man.” “Oh, I don’t know; he may meet a young widow some day,” replied her husband.—Ohio State Journal. Rend 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 amusing’ study, and will put you in the way of getting some excellent bargains. Our advertisers are reliable; they send what they ad- vertise. | i i Some time iti aR ars ‘Compa- , as an experimen’ ced “Ordinary” me ae service on the Baltimore and 0: Rail Road Between Baltimore bowie age eH Pittsburg and Chicago. e rest to the Railroad Company were very gratifying, but ee es jos - ies certained that the pes os Sand | was not in_ position : ss of equipment ing Pullman cars east of Chicago and St. Louis, and to allay any friction that might result from this inequality of service, the Pullman Company re- quested the Baltimore and Ohio Rail Road to resume the standard cars previously in service, which will be done, commencitg April 10th. scp Dita oe Woman's Trustfal Love. Many a wife dusts the billiard chalk from her husband’s coat and sheds tears of sympatby because of the late hours he must spend at his desk, close to a whitewashed wall.—Chicago News. BSR ae Rene as Do Your Feet Ache and Burnt Shake into your shoes, Allen’s Foot- Ease, a powder for the feet. It makes tight or New Shoes feel Basy. Cures Corns, Bunions, Swollen, Hot and Sweating Feet. At all Druggists and Shoe Stores, 25c. Sample sent FREE. ‘Address Allen S. Olmsted, LeRoy, N. ¥- It’s a great misfortune not to have judgment enough te keep silent at the proper time. Inever used so quick a cure as Piso’s Cure for Consumption.—J. B. Palmer, Box 1171, Seattlep Wash., Nov. 25, 1895. This is the season for sackcloth and ashes, but when the tennis season be- gins it will be sack coats and sashes. The Ideal Laxative. No more ancient pill poisons and biack draughts, but up-to-date, scientific, harmless, palatable, potent, Cascarets Cardy Cathartic. The best way to beat a poor carpet is to buy a new one. Mrs. Winsiow’s soothing Syrup. For children teething, softeus the gums. reduces in- flammation, allays cures wind colic. 25c abottla. Every man is more or less of a hero to himself. Constantly understand what torture is. Constantly on their feet whether well orill. Compelled to smile and be agreeable to customers while dragged down with some feminine weakness. They must aches count for little. keep going or lose their place. To these Mrs. Pinkham’s help is offered. Aletter to her at Lynn, Mass., will bring her advice free of all charge. Miss Nancie SuHosr, Florence, Col., writes a letter to Mrs. Pink- ham from which we quote: Backaches and head- WOMEN WHO EARN THEIR LIVING «I had been in poor health for some time, my troubles hay- ing been brought on by standing, so my physician said, caus- ing serious womb trouble. I had to give up my work. I was just a bundle of nerves and would have fairting spells at monthly periods. I doctored and took various medicines, but in connection with the Vegetable Com- 24 pound and began to gain in strength from the first. stranger to’pain and I owe it all to your medicine. for'I have tried many others be- Bi fore using yours. Words cannot be said too strong in praise of Miss Kar 4 got no relief, and when I wrote to you I could not walk more than four blocks I followed your advice, tak- I am getting to bea There ic none equal to it, Potty FRAME, » Writes: Meade, «Dear Mrs. PInKHAM—I feel it my duty to write you in regard to what your medicine has done for me. I cannot. praise it enough. Since my girlhood I had been troubled with ir- regular and painful —=3 Periods and for nearly five years had suffered ‘with falling of womb, and whites. Also had ovarian trouble, the left ovary being so swollen and sore that I covld not move without pain. Now, thanks to your wonderful medicine, that tired feeling is all gone, and I am healthy and strong.” LABASTINE is the criginal and only durable wall coating, - entirely different from all kal- somines. Ready for use in white or twelve beautiful tints by adding cold water. ADIES naturally prefer ALA- BASTINE for walls and ceil- ings, because it is pure, clean, durable. Put up in Ges pow- dered form, in flve-pound pack- ages, with full directions. UL kalsomines beat cheap, Pemg rary preparations made Whiting, chalks, clays, etc., and stuck on walis with de- caying animal glue. ALABAS- TINE is not a kalsomine. EWARE of the dealer who says he can sell you the “same thing” as ALABASTINE or “something just as good.” He is either not posted or is try- ing to deceive you. ND IN OFFERING something he has bougnt cheap and tries to sell on ALABASTINE’S de- mands, he may not realize the damage you will suffer by a kalsomine on your walls. ENSIBLE dealers will not buy a lawsuit. Dealers risk one by selling and consumers by using infringement. Alabastine Co. own right to make wall coat- ing to mix with cold water. HE INTERIOR WALLS of every schoolhouse should be coated only with pure, durable BASTINE. it safeguards ealth. Hundreds of tons are used annually for this work. N_ BUYING ALABASTINE, see that packages are properly la-, beled. Beware of large four- pound package light kalso- mine, offered to customers as @ five-pound package. UISANCE of wall paper is ob- viated by ALABASTINE. It can be used on plastered walls, wood ceilings, brick or can- vas. A child can brush it one It does not rub or scale off. ~ STABLISHDD in favor. Shun all imitations. Ask paint dealer or druggist for tint card. Write Era,” free, to ALA] EB CoO. Grand Rapids, Michigan, - ~ NS Encouragement. He—Tis said that the secret of suc- cess is constancy of purpose. She—Yes; if you keep at it long hold of that mustache you are trying enough you may succeed in catching to find.—Chicago News. ——X—X—SX-_!| STOCK RAISERS Will find it greatly to their advantage, if before purchasing a farm, they will look at the country along the line of the Saint Paul & Duluth Railroad. DAIRY FARMERS Who desire the’ best Clover and Timothy land, in a district which can boast of a fine climate, good pure water, soil, fine meadows,. and near to the nes of St. Paul, Minneapolis, Duluth and Superior should apply immediately by leter or in person to WM. P. TROWBRIDGE, Asst. Land Commissioner, St. Paul & Duluth R. R. Box U—003 Globe Bidg., St. Paul, Minn. ga | DYE Black with A Natural 50 cts. of druggists or R.P, Hall & Co,,Nashua,N.H, > Buckii ‘WANTED-Case ‘ will not benent. Bend Scenes that RLP-ANS Go., New York, for 10 samples and 1,000 testimonials. “sierra Thompson’s Eye Water.