Grand Rapids Herald-Review Newspaper, July 15, 1899, Page 2

Frozen Heart, A THRILLING LOWE STORY. BY FRANCES WARNER WALKER. CHAPTER XXV—(Continued.‘ She grew suddenly pale as she out- stretched her hand. ispatch from London might mean 3 disappointment from some tradesman, the announced and unexpected arrival of a guest, or— or—no wonder that the blood deserted | her cheek—news of her boy—news con- firmatory of his death, or news—the blocd rushed to her heart even at the mere thought of what this latter news it be—news that he lived, it yet clasp him in her arms, and, again from his 1 ne of “Mothe she had forgiven all. trembled so could not break the seal. | a touching and a pitiful sight | to see that proud woman, humble as a little child in her great longing and her —know that he held the paper towards Dorothy. “Read, my dear,” she said, in a quiv- “I dare not look myself.” s no tremor in the young; no flush of eager expect- ! a no’ brightening | with hope’s radiance in the lovely, az- Imly, and without haste, she tore open the paper; but, as she glanced; down at the written message, she grew ly pale; a strange look came into a look one might have fan- ; terror and a surprise w rather than relief, Yet! e read was this: { t me at Montfort Castle to- ive news of Herbert,” and as Jasper Strong. ws of her husband—news perhaps, i that he who had loved her so fondly spared them for And yet, the white look of an awful the one expr “He is dead, Dorothy, he is dead?” cried the poor mother, her eyes catch- only that blanched fear so plainly » words recalled her orced her lips to smile, and drove | > tremor from her tone. ill news too readily, mad- ; “No; Mr. Strong tele- aphs us he will be here to-night, and —and that he brings you some tidings. Whether good or evil, he says not.” The older woman clasped her hands, and her lips moved as if in prayer, Then stooped and pressed a long, fond kiss on the young girl’s brow. “Our prayers yet will bring him, Dor- she murmured. “It is good news that my old friend brings. not permit hope to spring, only to crush | I feel—I know it!! My boy live: sg' | s of her lost | youth in her eyes, she wer the room to seek her own chamber, per- where, on her knees, she might | a divine mercy to let hope into its fruitio ‘The young wife alone, but no no low-mur- he unfolded the dispatch will return from his ne studied the re- yet with some ‘tion of her beauty, “Why not?’ she said again. “He will find Dorothy waiting to welcome him loved so well! any change in her, L sed since he bade her farewell, and these years leave their impress, though they will have ripened, not destroyed, It wasa strange soliloquy for a wi who had mourned her husband deaa. Her scrutiny ended, she crossed the floor and rang a small silver bell stand- ing upon her table. 4nstantly answered. he gardener to send me a dozen erimson roses,’ she ordered. ‘Then she chose a dress of some thin, transparent black, through which the white neck and arms shone like gleam- marble, and in a great bunch at her t she fastened the fragrant .flow- It was the first bit of color she had worn, but it robbed from her dress all its mourning. The lawyer already had arrived when @he entered the drawing room. He and Lady Montfort both anced up, amazed at the radiant vis- ion which advanced, smiling, toward Mr, Strong sprang to his feet. “Have you guessed my tidings?” he “He is on his way home —home to this country, his mother and his wife! Ah, my dear, he should ney- er have let us know of you by the plaudits which we mistook for the en- thusiasm of a boy in love. He should hhave let us see you, that you might have disarmed our suspicions, and tak- en our hearts captive through our Its summons was e@aid, eagerly. “A truce to the past!” exclaimed the “The present and the fu- ture are too rich for us to dwell.upon its poverty. Ah, Dorothy, you have iven me back my boy. Your hand has d me to him. Can you measure my “Dear madame,” was the low, sweet answer, “you owe me nothing. It is L who am in your debt. Poor and home- less. you opened to me your heart and “Ah, dear! but it was so little, ana all I did then was for Herbert’s sake; ‘but were it to be done again, Dorothy, 4t would be for your own,” The lawyer looked on, well pleased; the interests.and welfare of the Mont- forts were to him as his own, He haa een their adviser and counselor since his youth, until he had become their old and trusted friend. The coldness which had characterized the young wife’s manner seemed melt- ing. The fascination which she exer- cised was resistless. To-night she ap- peared in a new role. She charmed them by her wit. For the first time she opened the piano, and filled the grand old room with the rich fullness of her voice. Her laugh rang out iv musical sweetness; her tone sank to tenderness. Their eyes followed her every movement with delighted, won- dering pride; and when they parted for the night, Herbert's mother followea ) her to her door, and then took her in ' her arms. | “Good-night!” she murmured, “Our prayers to-night will mingle for our boy’s return. Heaven will answer them, my child—my daughter!” She breathed the last words as one | breathes a blessing; but at their sound | the young wife grew pale. An instant she stood still, listening to the soft, retreating footsteps; then she barred the door, and with all the light faded from her face, all the laughter choked in the sob which trembled on the stillness, prone on her knees she knelt beside her couch, and burying in its soft cushions her golden-crowned | head, broken woids buist from her lips: “Her child—her daughter! Oh, God, why did she call me that? Almost would I rather she had cursed me!” CHAPTER XXVI. For the arrival of every train a car- riage from the Castle waited. At any hour the young heir might return; but of the two women watching in expect- ancy, it was the elder whose impa- tience betrayed itself in a feverish ex citement which she could not repress; the younger was still and calm. One evening, when a week had worn itself away, as they sat alone in the lonely magnificence of the silent rcoms, the noise of wheels upon the i graveled walks sounded distinctly and clearly on the night air. The mother sprang to her feet and stood listening, her hand pressed upon her heart. The wife stirred no muscle, moved no feature. Slowly the blood re- ceded from the perfect face, but other- wise she gave no sign. The carriage stopped. There were eager voices heard without. The moth- er took one, two steps toward the door. Then her strength failed her; she could advance no further, but stood with all her hungry gaze in fixed expectancy. Her waiting, her suspense, lasted but a second. Then the outer door was flung open, and with a low, glad cry of “Mother!” a young man, tall, his fair skin bronzed, his dark hair streaked with gray, which suffering, not time, had ordained, his bright eyes filled with tears that did no. dishonor to his manhood, held clos heart that aged form, and pressed his young lips, with all a lover’s ardor, to that old, quivering mouth. Yet, even as he did so, his glance sought something beyond—and just where the shadow rested, it fell on the exquisite, motionless form. Silent she waited, but the smile on her hps seemed forced rather than real, and fear rather than gladness was in the azure eyes. But of this he saw nothing. His arms fell from about his mother’s form, With one stride he had reached her where she stood. With one voiceless sob, he clasped her to his heart and strained her to him with a strength which gave her. pain. ‘There were a few seconds’ solemn si- lence. To him the grave had given up its dea Across the seas, the same moon jose rays sbone through the open window as witness of a scene whose ecstacy was beyond words, iooked down also om the white marble of a simple cross whose broken lily at the base symbolized a grief beyond all earthly measure, but grief which now was past forever, Tie broken lily had blossomed again. ‘The cross marked its resurrection, and not the grave. Then he lifted up the luvely face, and let his eyes drink in its beauty as though thus only he might slake the thirst from which he had well-nigh perished, while his lips touched, with caressing sweetness, her eyes, her hair, her lovely, smiling mouth—smiling now with a smile that seemed bubbling from some hidden gladness, glance returning glance, with proud, triumphant fondness. “My love, my own, my wife!” he Pihlenered, when at last words came to ‘im. “Herbert!” she murmured. He started, “Herbert?” he echoed. “That name sounds strangely on your lips, dearest. You did not use to love it. Has Bertie been forgotten?” A momentary cloud darkened her face. Then she said, softly: “I had not heard your mother call you Herbert then.” And the response brought another shower of enraptured kisses, Then, with his arm still about her, he returned to his mother, and drew her, too, close to him. “To-night there must be no words, no explanations, no questions,’ he ex- claimed. “But look at her, mother!” and his eyes dwelt with a worshipful fondness on his young wife’s radiant beauty. “Is she not more lovely than I had painted her—more lovely than my memory has pictured her? Darling, these years so full of sadness and mis- ery to me, have ripened you into new beauty—” “Hush!” she murmured. “They have been so full of wretchedness, let us never dwell on them or speak of them, Promise me! promise me. Better never to speak of that past—never to ask me any questions concerning it, or the time when—when—I was dead to you!” She shivered, and he felt the hand he held in his grow suddenly col, nothing— “My love—my darling—be silent!” and as he spoke he drew the lovely head down to his breast. “What have | reed to ask, since the grave has given you back to me, and death has yielded you to my embrace?” Again silence fell upon that little group—a silence hovering over an ec- stacy to break. which even an angel's whisper would have savored of sacri- lege. At last the mother spoke. “My son,” she said, “I, too, have cae promise to ask of you—one single pledge to require of you. You are my only son, the possessor of the proud Montfort title, the heir of all my wealth. The girl whom you have mar- ried, and whom I have learned to re- gard and love as a daughter, you made your wife away from your home, away from all who loved you, I: wish that the ceremony be performed again, in the chapel of your fathers.” (‘The young wife raised her head, and in the blue eyes gleamed a radiant light—the light of a great and triumphant sur- prise—the sudden dawning of an im- perial day from mists of blackness and of doubt.) “There shall be no unne- cessary delay. Within two days all shall be aryangedg but meantime, Dor- othy is my guest and under my protec- tion. Deubtless this seems to you an old woman’s whim, but it will make all my future years happier if you will gratify it.” “But, mother,” he began. Dorothy interrupted the sentence: “Your mother is right, dear. Has not the grave yawned between us? Then let us again ask heaven’s bless- ing on our union.” “As you will, my love,” he whis- pered, low. “Perhaps my happiness is too great, too bewildering, for me at onee to grasp it.” “It is Tuesday now,” said Dorothy, “On Thursday, then, shall be our sec- ond wedding-day. Is that your wish, mother?” A momentary hesitation had shown itself before the utterance of the title sweeter to all hearts tha nany denoting pomp or power. The old woman’s face flushed as a girl’s beneath her lover's first caress. The old heart beat with quick throbs of gratitude. For all her harshness to her boy she had repented sorely, and in this honest, perfect pardon, seemed to wipe out its memory, and shed its sun- light on all the future days which lay between her tottering footsteps and the | tomb. But how was it with her that uttered it?A seal upon the past—a defiant chal- it? A seal upon the past—a defiant chal- lenge to the future. Her vessel surely had ridden into safe anchorage at last! Who should dare say that the storm- king was abroad, and his fierce breath might even now and then assail her? So the seal was set—the challenge given. Even in the chapel of his fathers should the double right be hers to wear his title—to be, in very truth, “My Lady Montfort.” ‘The clock struck eleven. Lord Mont- fort started to his feet, and turned to- ward*them with a smile. “My oldest and best friend came down with me from London to-night,” he said. “He knew I would wish to be alone with you, and so he went up into the smoking room. I had quite for- gotten him, and I think he is almost as trained to his! anxious to see my darling as I could haye been. Wait! you,” He turned to hasten from the room; but Dorothy laid her hand on his arm. “Not to-night, Bertie; I as so tired to-night!” “Oh, just for a moment. dearest! will be so sorely disappointed!” So she let him go. What mattered it? ‘The morning must bring the meet- ing, and she must grow accustomed to strangers. After Thursday, she thought, she would not so greatly mind. ‘Then came the sound of returning steps, and the young lord’s voice, eager, glad, but quiet with a joy too great for out- spoken happiness. “Here we are!” he said, as he en- tered the room, his arm within that of his friend. “Dorothy, my love, let me present you to—” He paused, interrupted by a sharp ery from his young wife’s white lips. Gack to her eyes had crept the fear. Again the color had stolen from her cheek. “Is Arkwright a ghost?’ exclaimed her husband in amaze. “Yes,” she answered, recovering first her self-possession, and advancing with the smile restored to her lips and ex- tending her hand—‘“yes, a ghost, in- deed, for Mr, Arkwright and I have met befare!” But Harry Arkwright’s face was white with a great sternness, blanched by a great agony; and, with his eyes I will bring him to He -spell-bound on her beauty, he made no motion to take the Lady Montfort’s outstretched hand. CHAPTER XXVIII. From one to the other Lord Mont- fort glanced in wondering surprise; but surprise merely. His glance held no suspicion, either of his wife or of his friend. With swift, graceful movement, Dor- othy gained Arkwright’s side. A silent prayer quivered on every feature. “Spare me!” she murmured, so low that only his ear caught the whisper. Mechanically, he extended his hand. He forced his lips to speak; he forced himself to laugh. “Lady Montfort is right,” he said. “We have met before. Doubtless she will explain to you to-morrow the rea- son for our mutual surprise.” “No old love affair, I trust?’ ex- claimed the husband. Then Arkwright passed on to greet his friend’s mother, whom he had known and admired since the early days of his boyhood, when first she had bidden him welcome to Montfort Castle as Herbert’s friend, But some constraint had fallen on the little group. Lord Montfort’s mother playfully pointed to the clock, and drew the young wife’s arm within her own as a signal that they should retire. In passing Arkwright, she again “It brings back the chill, charnet breath of the sepulchre. I breathe again the fever-tainted, poisoned air of that terrible scourge, and my brain reels, and I can remember nothing— clasped his hand, but the younger wo- | man only bowed her good-night. all and more?” he asked. answer; but it sounded cold and forced. the second ceremony. my joy as yet seems to unreal to grasp, and I couldn’t deny the dear mother ler one prayer.” “You were right,” wright, even as Dorothy had indorsed his mother’s judgment. But while he spoke he thought: “Until Thursday; there may yet be time to avert this fearful wrong.” Then the two men parted for the night—one to toss sleepless in the home of his boyhood, because of happi- ness which grew into ecstacy that was pain; and one to pace the floor through the long, silent hours of the night, revolving and re-revolving in his brain some answer to the hideous enig- ma which perplexed hm, Once he drew near the window. in the old wing of the castle, its ivy-man- tled walls of gray stone picturesquely visible in the moonlight, a light streamed from within to meet the moon’s rays from without. Even as he looked,-a slight, white- robed figure leaned from the casement into the night. Her sigh seemed waft- ed to him on the still air. A deep groan burst from his chest. “My love! my love!” he murmured. “Have I lost you only to find you thus? What must I do? What can I d Lend myself to this monstrous wrong? Turn traitor to my friend, or betr: your secret? Why did I come h What evil angel thus ordained my d tny?” But when the morning dawned the problem which perplexed him was no nearer its solution. ‘The light had long vanished from the window; the form long disappeared from the casement; but in the dark- ness the girl lay, with wide-open eyes, fighting her own bitter fight—the fight that fate again had forced upon her. But no trace of her vigil was visible when, with the sun’s rays streamine full upon her perfect face, she held it up in the early morning ror her aus- vand's kiss. He held her, strained to his heart, then put her from him at arm’s length, “Your hair has gained new glory, ‘lear, while, see—mine has been sprink led with another metal! Silwo coms to mine and gold to yours.” “It’s your tancy Omy wanuca finds mine changed,” she said, with a low laugh of exquisite content. This the picture which was revealed to Arkwright’s gaze, on entering the room. His eyes and those of the young Lady Montfort met—sorrow in his, in hers, defiance. The breakfast passed off at last. Ark- wright strayed out into the park. For a little while Dalrymple and his wife were alone. Then she sent him to his mother. “IT must not be selfish, dear, and she will want you all to herself for a little while, In an hour you will find me in the library.” He kissed and left her. Arkwright’s figure was visible as he paced up and down one of the walks, smoking a cigar. She stood a moment watching him, but, as one might waten a foe whom one is about to meet in bat- tle; yet, in her eyes was admiration, rather than hatred, regret, rather than desire for the contest. But she was losing time, and time was precious. When he turned again, he saw her advancing toward him, Pale already, he grew whiter still. She came quite close to him before either spoke. “I cannot deceive you?” she said. “Deceive me?” he answered. “My God! Why, Florence, have you done this thing? What man, what devil, tempted you?” “Hush!” she responded, looking around with a swift glance of terror. “Must I again forbid that name? Have you forgotten that here I am Dorothy —Herbert Dalrymple’s wife—the Lady Montfort? Am I not to have new right to the title on Thursday next? Not even you will dare dispute it then, or speak again in my ears the name that I have learned to loathe!” “Florence, it must never be!” The simple sentence rang like a fiat ef fate. ‘ “You would betray me?” she ques- tioned. “I would save you from a wrong so monstrous! Tell me, how and where did you conceive this lie?” She laughed ere she replied: (To be continued.) SOMEBODY HAD TO STAY. So the Prisoner Kept the Jail, as No One Else Was There. The story below is from El Diario, an Argentine newspaper printed in Spanish. The anecdote is told of a prison in a provincial town in Argen- tina. “An employe, whose duty it was to inspect them, arrived late at night at one of them, the chief of police was. “‘The chief, sir,’ he replied, lives at his farm, three or four leagues off. He seldom comes.’ “ ‘And the second of police?’ “~«The second has not come for some time, sir. The poor man has his wife ill.’ “ ‘And the officer of the guard?’ “fe has been invited to a dance.’ “‘and the gendarmes? “<The gendarmes, sir, finish their du- ty at 6 p. m., and don’t return until next day.’ “Rut this is a scandal, There is no- body here to explain things. And you? Who are you? “‘T am the prisoner, sir.” The whole thing reads like an inci- dent from a comic opera. But it is a perfectly literal translation from the paper mentioned. Plenty of Busines: Justice Honks—Just think! In Port- ugal a boy may marry when he’s four- teen and a girl when she is twelve! Herbert followed her to the landing of the stairs, for one last look, one last caress; then he returned to his friend. “Is she not all I painted her, Harry— “Yes; she is very beautiful,” was the He listened silently while his friend unfolded to him his mother’s plan of “It isn’t often a man must play the role of lover to his wife,” he said; “but indorsed Ark- and asked a ragged ‘gaucho,’ who opened the door, where Lawyer Spriggs—Say, let’s me and you form a partnership with some good vivorce judge, and go over there.—Chi- | eago News. Griggs and the Trusts. From the Chicago Chronicle: Gov- ernor Sayers of Texas wishes it to be understood that there is nothing partisan about his invitation to the governors and attorney generals of the states to attend an anti-trust confer- ence in St. Louis on the 20th of Sep- tember, He states that the plan of a conference of this kind occurred to him when he read the letter of the at- torney general of the United States to a Philadelphian, in which he said that the general government had not the power to make and enforce effective legislation ‘against trusts. He made up his mind that if such were the case the states would have to deal with the subject, and that they could not take it in hand any too quickly. But he .perceived that state legislation, in order to be effective, must be enacted by a large number of states, and must be as nearly uniform as_ possible. Hence the necessity for conference in order to secure something like con- certed action. Having reached this conclusion, he addressed his letter to the governors of all the states, irre- spective of their party affiliations. He wrote his letter on the 5th of June, and before the 20th he had received sixteen replies, of which nine were wholly favorable, four were noncom- mittal, and only three were positively averse to the proposed conference. Among the noncommittal governors were Bushnell of Ohio and Roosevelt of New York, both of whom, however, promised to lay the matter before the attorney generals of their respective states. Governor Dyer of Rhode Is- land was the only one who expressed any doubt that trusts were an evil. That Republican statesman said: “The subject is one in which I am deeply interested, but I am not prepared to say that I consider it a great evil to the country.” The most remarkable deliverance on the subject was that of Governor Rogers of the young state of Washington. That statesman ex- pressed doubts as to the sincerity of many of those who were advocating state legislation against trusts, and suggested that they were merely con- structing a craft to carry them safely through the next national campaign. He also expressed his belief that state legislation which would really curb the power of trusts would be declared unconstitutional by the United States supreme court. His ground for this belief was that most trusts were cor- porations, and the courts would hold that corporations, like individuals, have a right to buy whatever is of- fered for sale in the market—to buy all that is offered for sale if they please, and so secure a monopoly, and obtain the power to fix the price. He did not say this as a champion of the trusts, by any means, but because he holds a special social and economic theory, as appears when he says: “I can see no remedy for the trust evil save public ownership. This new question of the trusts is really the old one of capital vs, labor, or, stated differently, the attempt of the al- mighty dollar to gain supremacy in the affairs of men. There is in all this an irrepressible conflict, which will not down at the bidding of any state legislature.” The Sayings of Jefferson. The excise law is an infernal one. The first error was to admit it by the constitution, the second to act on that admission, Private charities as well as contribu- tions to public purposes, in proportion to every one’s circumstances, are cer- tainly among the debts we owe to so- ciety. Our greediness for wealth and fan- tastical expenses have degraded, and will degrade, the minds of our mari- time citizens. There are the peculiar vices of commerce. That we should wish to see the peo- ple of other countries free is as nat- ural and at least as justifiable as that one king of other countries maintained in their despotism. The day is not distant when we may formally require a meridian or parti- tion through the ocean which separates the two hemispheres, on the hither side of which no European gun shall ever be heard, nor an American one on the other; and when, during the rage of the eternal wars of Europe, the lion and the lamb, within our regions, shall lie down together in peace, We owe gratitude to France, justice to England, good will to all, service to none, The great principles of right and wrong are legible to every reader; to pursue them requires not the aid of many counselors. I have ever looked upon Cuba as the most interesting addition which could be made to our system of states. When the press is free, and every man able to read, all is safe. Banking establishments are more dangerous than standing armies. Were we directed from Washington when to sow and when to reap, we should soon want bread. The whole art of government con- sists in the art of being honest, The time to guard against corrup- tion and tyranny is before they have gotten hold of us. . I am for responsibilities at short pe- riods, seeing neither reason nor safety in making public functionaries inde- pendent of the nation for life, or even for long terms. of years, None Such to Name. From the Kansas City Times: If the president can mention the name of a Republican who will walk the plank under his civil-service order the coun- try would like to have him do it. ea NNN ragatlor—"Want to buy @ parrot, Lady—“Does he swear?” “ Sailor—“No, lady, dis one don’t; but if yer want to apy $2 more I kin get yer a very choice article wot cusses beautiful!’—Puck Curious Custom. e In China guests at dinners run around between the courses. ‘This is supposed to keep the digestion in good. condition, but the hustling American needs something else, and there 1s nothing better than Hostetter’s Stom- ach Bitters. Ifa man or woman Is suffering with constipation, indigestion or any stomach trouble, it’s their fault if they don’t get well. Badly Pat. Quizzer—“Why wouldn’t Skinflint enlist?” Guyer—The probably put it on the ground that it was a debt he owed the country.Kansas City Independent. —————_—_——————_— “Do Not Grasp at theShadow and Lose the Substance.”” ’ Many people are but shadows of their former selves, due to neglect of health. Look out for the blood, the fountain of Ufe, the actual substance; keep that pure by regular use of Hood’s Sarsaparilla and robust health vill be the result. Be sure to get only Hood's, because __ Hoods Sc Never Disappoints An Important Personage;| “Did you ever hear of St. Dunstan?” asked the man who was chewing his lead ‘pencil. “St. Dunstan?” answered the friend, “Certainly. What was there so re- markable about him?” “What was there remarkable about St. Dunstan? Why, Great Scott, man, don’t you know that his name is the only one in the English language that furnishes a rhyme for ‘Funston?’ ”— Washington Star. . UNIVERSITY OF NOTRE DAME. We call attention of our readers to the advertisement of Notre Dame Uni- versity, Notre Dame, Indiana, one of the great educational institutions of the West, which appears in another column of this paper. Those of our readers who may have occasion to look up a college for their sons during the coming year would do well to corre- spond with the President who will send them a catalogue free of charge, as well as all particulars regarding terms, courses of studies, etc. There is a thorough preparatory school in connection with the Univer- sity in which students of all grades will have every opportunity of prepar- ing themselves for higher studies. The Commercial Course intended for young men preparing for business may be finished in one or two years accord- ing to the ability of the student. St. Edward’s hall, for boys under thir- teen, is an unique department of the institution. The higher courses are thorough in every respect and stu- dents will find every opportunity of perfecting themselves in any line of work they may choose to select. Thoroughness in class-work, exactness in the care of students, and devotion to the best interests of all, are the dis- tinguishing characteristics of Notre Dame University. Fifty-five years of active work in the cause of education have made this in- stitution famous all over the country. Surprised. “It was wonderful to see that young American lady ‘leading the mob,” said one Parisian. “What was there wonderful about ite” “Why, the fact that we could nnder- stand ber I‘rench.’”—Wasbington Star. She Carried Him Off. ; Huntley—Funny thing, that elope ment of Miss Longwaite and young Snipper. Author—Elopement? That was an abduction!—Philadelphia North Amer- ican. Are You Using Allen’s Foot-Ease? It is the only cure for Swollen, Smarting, Burning, Sweating Feet, Corns and Bunions. Ask for Allen’s Foot-Ease, a powder to be shaken into the shoes, At all Druggists and Shoe Stores, 25c. Sample sent FRED. Ad- dress, Allen S, Olmsted, LeRoy, N. Y¥. The Proper Classification, She—What is the difference between white lies and black ones? He—The former are the kind a wo- man thinks she tells a man, and the latter are the kind she thinks he tells her.—Chicago News. Edueate Your Bowels: Your bowels can be trained as well as your Thartie train your bowels to do Tight all Gros: in your bowel . gists, 100, 250, 50e. tee ~ His Choice. Pe face is my fortune, sir,’ she said. He married a bank account instead.— Cleveland Leader. Wonderful Capacity, “Old Oom Paul Kruger is a man of wonderful capacity.” % “Yep. Two gallons of beer every blessed day.”—Cleveland Plain Dealer. Let loose in the yards—a Hubbard dress. ie tay a SALVE FREE FOR PILES. 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