Grand Rapids Herald-Review Newspaper, February 17, 1900, Page 6

, a) ——— The Arnewood Mystery Author of “Dead Man's Court,’’ ‘‘Somerville’s Crime,” ‘‘Dartmoor,”’ | ““Maravin’s Money,” etc., etc. CHAPTER XVII. “Much about the same, I was the reply, “so far memory gaes. The chief difference that my frst pal is always trying his hardest to recollect the pas whereas beokkeeper seems to all ence to it. I’m pretty wre it was an awful fright of some kind turned 1 train; he sometimes fanc he sees eyes following him about everywhere, until it's quite a job to quiet him, But he’s 2 lot better than he was when IT first came across him. Heaven save us! He was more li a galvanized corpse in the horrors than a human being! Now, sir, what I'd like to have fs your opinion of ’em both, after see- ing and talking to ’em—more espec Iy my own particular pal. Our ib aint five minutes’ walk from here, if you don’t mind going that far.” “Very well, Tl do my bi foired, upon one condition.” “What's that “i “Phat you'll regard my visit as mere- ly a friendly one, and make no fur- @irer allusion to fees f Te this, after some dermr, he grate- fully assented, and we proceeded to pick up the money-taker, who was waiting his friend nd protector in the tent. Poor old om Webb! My (Continued.) fancy,” 1 Ne heart went out to him when I set eyes apon his distorted, imbecile face, but ¥ did not in « tion. ny Way court his atten- He glanced at me furtively, in Jed sort of way, but gave no recognizing me. * coming home with nined the S you know s echoed Tom, s “Can he ‘minister to a mind I don’t see what h , otherwise However, as he had no definite objection to mst my company, we all thre together. One large room sufficed as bed room for the good-natured pocket-Hercules and his two proteges, while a smaller apartment did dw as sitting room and kitchen. I saw no signs around of anything approaching real poverty: . to judge from the ample and varied contents of the cupboards pres- ansacked to provide supper, the sekeeping was characterized by a zh abundance ind ive of brisk siness and good sal. a Stay-at-Home Ned welcomed the Strong man and Tom with unaffected delight. He was a tall, well-built man, rather under than over thirty, but ap- peared weak, as though convalescent from some serious illn and there was something in his voice and man- mer that plainly indicated an enfee. Died intellect. He seemed to me, how- ever, to be a far saner man than Tom Webb. “Dick's brought a doctor to see you,” remarked the latter, a little malicious- Ty, as T thought. “A friend of mine, Ned,” put in the Strong Man, has , “who has just dizopped in for a ndly chat. If he’s a bit of a docic is it, old y no red Ned, “T d to By lded, sinkin: amd indicating Tom Webb, net mind what that peor fellow says. He's a little bit—you know.” And he gnificant- hed his own forehead s E nodded sympathetically, though 1 could scarcely repress a laugh. Each new the other to be mentally weak, at neither seemed to realize his own deficiencies. A very common thing, especially among persons not hopeless- ty insane; but grimly humorous, for all that. As it was especial business, both fer my host and my own, to ar- xive at some reliable opinion as to the actual mental condition of the pair, I Raid myself out to sound them upon every likely topic I could think of, while Dick (as they called him) pre- pared a very ample supper. With “Yom Webb the ‘task was an easy one -enwagh, familiar as I ¥ with well- migh every incident in his previous -eareer. Yet, although I tried him, with the most thinly-veiled allusions te Lis boyhood, his family, myself and his journalistic life, I failed utterly to elicit a single responsive echo on any of these points. Oniy when, in desper- ation, I alluded to the Great Fog, dia ¥ succeed in arousing him. “Ah, yes!” he exclaimed, placing his -outstretched hands at some distance frem his face, as though to ward off @ome dreaded sight. “I know!--A thick, brown fog,nearly black. And then—something lying in the room—a something with wild, staring eyes! “Ugh! They follow me still. sometimes, especially when I’m alone! Ugh— sthose eyes!” “Never mind the Ss,” put in Ned, soothingly, and with a warning look at me, “they can’t hurt you, and it only worries you to think about them,” But if my progress with Tom Webb atisfactory, my efforts to draw companion were scarcely more suceessful, although I chatted with him freely throughout the supper. \Wpon ordinary, everyday subjects he sapoke quite sensibly, but any referenc te even the best-known events, six smonibs old, merely seemed to distress him. “Perhaps I'd better tell you what lit- @e 1 kiww of the smash that knocked tint silly,” whispered Dicky to me, seeing that I made no headway. “They usually go to bed just after sup- per. and leave me to my pipe and a glass of grog.” X nodded assent, for although the story of Ned’s mishap could have but Mitfle interest, as I thought, for me, L rmisht, later on, pick up some further scraps of information about Tom “Webb. As he had foreseen, the afilict- ed pair very soon retired to rest, and Dicky needed no pressing invitation to wedeew his promise. an do | ~ CHAPTER XVIII. _ The Strong Man's Adventure. “Well, doctor,” he began, “although T've Leen in the show business, off and on, for a good many ycars and in most parts of the world, I’ve often had a try | at other things by way vr a change, | of dirt from the surface. sometimes from choice, sqnetimes be- | eause I couldn't help it. Just about this time last year, for instance, the boss of a circus I was traveling with | went stone-broke, and Jeft the lot of | us stranded at Queensland, Australi: ‘There wasn’t a cent to pay salar’ and the boss himself sloped, and ey ery one did the best he could for him- , self. As for me, I collared one of the | horses and started off gold-hunting. | At first I had some luck, but that didn’t last, and I was going to give the game up for good, when I chanced | across an old German named Schuei- | der, in Cooktown, I’m a Dutchman | by birth myself (though 1 reckon my- | self En, h now), and, as I know Ger- man pretty well, I became rather chummy with the old fellow. Well, | sir, he fell ill, and, feeling his end | near, he told me of a rich claim he had discovered in the back country, and described its position, so thatI felt , sure’ I could find it. But, although I tried, time after time, I never could | hit it off, and was*half-inclined to be- lieve old Schneider had lied to me. I soon had reason, though, to alter this opinion, and to satisfy myself that the , old German's claiin 1 been tracked | out by some smarter chap than me. I waited’ and watched fer a chance to follow this fellow when he should come to town for tuc , and one evening I spotted him in an inn, 1} was not quite sure about him at first: | buat the savage. sulky way he rounded | ke about the old | fied me I was on the right t So that night I re- moyed one of his horse’s shoes, cut a bit off with a chisel, and replaced it. Of course, if he should not happen te notice the dodge. his horse’s tracks | couuld be easily followed on anything like soft ground, and there had recent- | ly been heavy rains. “T saw him next morning just as he va mounting his horse. I again chaffed him about Schneider, and he made a brute lash at. me so that my ins escaped but a few inches. A right-dewn vicious brute. and uo mis- | take, was Rainsforth, | “I traced him to a store, where he had ordered a lot of supplies to be sent to a place called the Forty-Mile., T | then saddled up the old cireus horse | and started after him. I did not ex- pect to overtake him, but I hoped to be able to track his horse from the | Forty-Mile onward. And so I was, | with oceasional checks on patches of | hard ground, for about five Then the country became too broken | and stony for any one but a black | tracker; and although I had a full | moon to help me, I lost all traces of hoof-marks. I was within half a mile, | too, of Black Horse Gully, somewhere in the vicinity of which I knew that the claim sought was located, and I felt real wild at being brought to a s ill. German's ¢ ally, I resolved to hobble my horse and examine a mile or two of | that part of the gully on foot. It of course, mere guess-work, done rath- er for the s of doing something | than with any real hope of success; and, indeed, my chief care was to take careful note of the place where I had | left my horse, “T presently struck what bore some faint resemblanee to a path leading | down the side of the ravine, and after | following it some distance. I perceived the familiar mound and windlass which surmounts a mine-shaft. This meant little or nothing, because the | district had been prospected for years | past, and abandoned shafts were com- men enough. But, upon closer inspec- tion, this particular mine gave evi- | dence of being in actual work, or, at all events, of very recent work, indeed. The footprints in the soft mullock were quite fresh, and I thought I; could detect an outline at the top showing where someone had gat or lain down. The windlass and rope al- so showed signs of having been lately in use. Clearly, I had struck an active claim, aud the owners were probably not very far off. “Now, prospectors, in out-of-the-way places, bitterly resent anything like | spying upon their work, and. it’s sel- | dom wise to make oneself known too abruptly. Let them, rather, find out that someone is prowling around in| the neighborhood, and the:chances are | (if the ground is really good) they'll try to come to terms to keep it dark. For aught I knew, the claim I had stumbled across might be the very one old Schneider had found so rich, and | which Rainsforth had, as I believed, re-discovered. It was clearly no new claim, at all events, (judging from the | size of the mullock heap. And if so, it was certainly not safe for me to be eaught inspecting it in broad moon- light. I could easily return next day and observe the owners at work, be- fore allowing my presence to be sus- pected. IT was just ‘about to descend from my exposed position at the windlass. when I heard what struck me as the st awful, blood-curdling, moaning | : uttered outside the walls of a | I can tell you, sir, it made jump, and if I hadn't made a grab at one of the uprights, I'd have come near tumbling down ‘the shaft, whenee the scund proceeded. But I’m not a nervous man, when I take a mo- ment to steady myself, and I very soon had the rope, bucket and all, down the hole. The rope was a new one, and the timber strong enough for any- thing; and so, having taken a few ex- tra turns around the reller with part of the slack, 1 felt safe enough in slipping down. At about thirty five feet below the | he probably was. | the shallow miles. | © | that is, the rope was still conside longer than the depth of the shaft. | | in. But he wasn’t; ‘limp and helpless was not very deep—three feet at the most. Being, hoewyer, so very short in stature, I had to lower myself very cautiously, and to empty all my lower pockets into my topmest coat pocket, befcre I touched the bottom. It was lucky I thought of this, because other- wise all my matches would have been spoiled, to say nothing cf my *baccy and some bank-notes 1 had on me, T had plenty ef matches, but the air was so damp and foul they weren't much use. However, I was able to make out that at the bottom of the shaft a tunnel had been driven in one direc- tion, while opposite to this it sloped somewhat, owing, perhaps, to the fall And, lying huddled up upon this slope was the head and trunk of a man, his legs be- ing almost hidden in the deeper water! “Well, of course, the conclusion I | came to straighway was’that the poor chap bad fallen down the shaft, and that he must be no better than a mass of bruised flesh and broken bones. But when I plucked up nerve to -handle him, [ found he "t nearly so damaged as I expected. You see hadn't taken into account the three fect or so of water to break his fall.” “IT can understand that,” [ remarked, but the real marvel is that he should ave escaped suffocation, stunned, as “Well, yes, there was water enough to have drowned him had his head sunk into it,” assented, Dicky. “But, fortunately for him, it didn’t. T take it he fell in feet first, and that his shoulder blades dropped backward upon the slope where the water was * *Probab! the correct explanation. All trick-diving into nets, ete., from great height is done upon the principle of striking the net with the shoulder blades. As for the fall down a forty- foot shaft not proving fatal, such ¢ capes ave common enough. I remem- | ber at Mount Arthur, in ‘Tasmania, a drunken miner falling down a seventy- foot hole, one dark night, into less than two feet of water. He was re cued next morning, sober, and none the worse for either fall or immersion, —Author, “Anyhow, all I could discover wrong with him was a broken arm an: a general shock to the system which rendered him perfectly helpless. He let out another moaning yell while I was examining him, which satisfied me that, though he might be in great pain, he had still plenty of life left in him. I tried talking to him, but could get nothing more intelligible than a sort of grunt in reply. It did not occur | to me that he might have been drunk when he fell in, and that even the shock had failed as yet to sober him. T found that out afterwards. “The question I had to answer just fi How could I get him to the surface? And a pretty hard ques- tion it was, too. I at once gave up the idea of leaving him there while I beat up the neighborhood for help. He eouldn’t survive much longer in that foul well, and there might not be an- other man within miles of me. Suc- ceed or fail, I must trast entirely to myself. “If you will believe me, doctor, I don’t think I ever felt more grateful to God for the strength of my arm and grip than I did at that t ment. I thought I saw how, with His help, I might save that poor, crushed creature. * “Without further delay, I seized the rope and climbed up, handover-hand, to the surface. Then I hauled up the bucket and detached it, as being use- for my purpose. What I needed length of fairly-strong s a good cord, and this I procured by the sim- ple expedient of untwisting the strands of about ten feet of rope, which I cut off. There was still plenty of slack; bi Then I descended. “Now, had the injured man been suf- ficiently conscious to hold on to the rope, even enough to keep his body per- | pendicular, I could have fixed him up by simply rigging a loop for him to sit he was just as sa baby. So I had s a couple of slip-knots around to pa | his chest as well, and then lash him to the rope by means of the strands. It was an awkward job in the dark, amid the water and mud. but I managed it somehow. I then climbed again to the surface, and prepared for a long, steady aul upon the windlass.” “It must have been a severe strain, even upon your muscles!” I interjected. “Well, it was, sir,” he assented, “be- cause it lasted some time, and the hardest part was at the finish, when T had to steady the handle with one hand while I pulled the swaying body upon the mullock-heap with the other, Anyhcw, I got through right enough; and, having freed him from the rope and wrapped him up in my jacket, 1 started along the pathway at a run, shouting oceasionally as I went. _ Pres- ently I struck a log-and-canvas shanty, showing clear signs of recent oceupa- tion, though deserted then. I particu- larly noticed a couple of empty brandy bottles alongside a bunk, and then T guessed that the man I had pulled out of the shaft must have been on the booze. I hurried back to the mine and carried him to the hut. more brandy, but there was plenty of tea and enough food to last for some days, and I had to bring him round up- on what I could find. I fixed his brok- en arm in bark splints, and, as soon as he felt himself comfortable in his punk, he fell asleep, and never woke until mid-day. “Then we had a feed, and I tried to find out who he was and how he came to fall into the hole; but he only shook his head and stared at me stupidly. I tried him upon every tack TI could think of but to no purpose. He knew nothing about the claim. He had no mate. He could not remember his own name. What, he did know was that his arm was very painful, and he felt sore and stiff allover, and that he had strange buzzings in his head. “Finding it impossible to get any- thing out of him, I had to do the best I could on my own judgment. The man | was clearly an imbecile, and his arm demanded prompt surgical treatment. It was, therefore, my plain duty to get him to Cooktown without delay; and, once I make up my mind, I like carry- ing it out straightway. I was real glad to find he could walk, with a bit of help now and then, and I started packing up his swag, cheered with the surface my feet struck water, but it! thought that I would rot have to carry ying mo- | I could find no | . him as well to where I had left my old horse. “I turned the conterts of the hut pret- ty well upside down, keeping a sharp look-cut for letters or other papers that might be of importance to him; and I found £70 in notes, in an empty tobacco tin, but not a scrap of writing. So 1 rolled up a flannel shirt and a pair of So in his blankets, humped the swag and led him off, leaving the hut to take care of itself. I found the old horse al- most where I had hobbled him, got my new companion on his back, and made tracks for Cooktown. “There ney comrade (whom I called Ned for want of a better name) re- mained in hospital vntil his arm was fairly on the mend; but I could get precious little hope from the doctors as to his intellect. One of them advisea a veyage to London to consult some specialist; ard this idea, somehow, teok such a hold of Ned that he left me no peace until I consented to the trip. He had a hazy notion that he had lots of friends in the old country, who would welcome him eagerly, although he could not remember a single one of their names. Besides, I had a bit of money put by, and he could well afford the journey out of his £70. “So, the end of it was that we bought two steerage passages, and reached London safe and sound. 1 hate doing | nothing, and I returned to the show | business, as you see, doctor. I’ve con- | sulted two doctors about Ned. They both agreed he ought to be treated in an asylum, and recommended their | own particular institutions. But that ain’t good enough. Ned anid I are too good pals now to be parted by the | Walls of a madhouse. And he’s just kely to recover his memory living wit me as cooped up with a lot of lunatics, isn’t he, sir?” “Most certainly he is!’ I replied, em- phatically. “God bless you for that, sir!” cried Dicky, joyously. “He's a sight better than he was, and I believe that, one of these days. everything will come back to him as clearly as before he fell down he shaft.” “I see no reason why it should not,” | T assented, encovragingly. “Meanwhile, | you are, I suppose, still without any clue to his identity?” “That's so, sir, unless one can call the initials of a forgotten sweetheart a clue, I saw them on his arm.” “Sweetheart, Ned?” I asked. “*Yes,’ he replied, coloring up, “but T can’t remember her name.’ Well, 1 didn’t see much use in advertising for an unknown girl, with such common initials as L. A., and so let her slide.” “Ep, A., IT repeated, musingly. ““lhat’s an odd coincidence. Done in red and black and surrounded by a wreath? “Quite right.” he assented, looking at me, inquiringly. “It’s a common de- sign enough.” . “I daresay,’ I rejoined. “I last saw it upon the arm of a man who was mur- dered, not long ago, and who also came from Cooktown. That’s what made the thing somewhat remarkable. Could you show me your friend’s right arm without awakening him?’ “Rather!” confirmed Dicky. sleeps like a top.” He took me to the adjoining bedroom, and bared his sleeping companion’s | arm. “Uncover his chest!” eagerly. With a look of mingled surprise ana expectation, he obeyed. ‘The coinci- dence was complete. Upon the right breast was a rudely-drawn log bearing the letters R. N. X could have cried out in the great- ness of my amazement; but I kept my head, and merely beckoned Dicky 10 follow me into the other room. “Can you safely leave these two for about half an hour and accompany me to the Strand?” I asked. “To be sure I ean,” he replied, | promptly. “They're right enough here. Does it concern him?’ he added, eager- ly. “Yes,” [ replied, “though it may turn | out a false scent, after all. We shall | soon know.” As fast as a well-bribed driver could | take us. we sped to the AdelIphi and | hastened up to my rooms. Do what L | could to keep my head cool, my hand ‘trembled as I unlocked my desk, and sought out a copy of the portrait sent from Cooktown. “There!” I exclaimed, handing it to Dicky. “That man bore precisely the saine tattoo-marks as your friend Nea, | and he, too, came from Queensland. | Do you recognize him?” “Recognize him?” echoed Dicky. “I should say so! Why, that’s Nat Rains | forth!” “He I whispered, CHAPTER XIX. | I Find an Ally. For scme moments Dicky stood star- ing at the photograph, as though to make quite sure he was making no mis- take. Then he handed it back to me. and T gave him the ghastlier picture of | the murdered man. There were two, full-face and profile. “Its the same man, and Nat Rains- forth, right enough,” was his comment, after a careful scrutiny. “Looks as | though he’d been strangled.” “So he was, most probably, I assent- | ed, “and the principal object of my Tife (is to find who strangled him. You know him, you say, as Nat Rainsforth, but his real name was Luke Arnewooa, and he was heir to a large property.” “There's some blooming error about all this,” remarked Dicky. “His name was Po more Luke Arnewood than mine is. I knew him and all his people down in Brisbane, from his grandfath- er, old Bill Rainsforth, down to his younger brother, Tom, who was lagged for cattle-duffing. If the man whose photos you've just shown me passed himself off over here as anyone else than Nat Rainsforth, te just lied, that is all.” ! (Te Be Continued.) Tit for Tat. | Tt is eharacteristic of those who are | severe on others that they cannot bear | severity. can Swift, the severest satirist of his day, was one day dining with a company of gentlemen, one of whom he made the butt of his ridicule, “with repeated sallies. At last the dean poured upon a piece of duck some lgravy intended to be eaten with a roasted goose. The unfortunate gen- tleman, seeing this, immediately said: “My good dean, you surprise me—you eat a duck like a gocse.” The compa- ny roared, and the poor defn was so cenfused and mortified that he flew into a rage and left the table. Artichokes for Swine. Bulletin 100, Department of Agricul- ture: For winter and early spring there is no better crop than artichokes, which give a rich, fresh feed just at the time when grasses and clovers are at their poorest. There are few crops which can be more easily grown on any fairly good soil which will give a greater amount of green feed per acre and be more valuable for both grow- ing and fattening animals. They should be planted in drills like Irish potatoes, the seed being cut in the Same manner, and about the same amount being used per acre. Two cul- tivations will usually be ‘sufficient to keep the ground mellow and free from weeds until the plants are so tall as to shade the ground, after which no further working is needed. The tubers do not form until late in the season, and in this latitude are rarely matured before the 1st of December. Even then they are not relished as well as they are later, and as they keep well in the ground until late in the spring, it is usually better to save them for Janu- ary and February grazing, after the Sweet potatoes, peanuts, and other crops are gone. Although the arti- chokes will make a volunteer growth from the scattering tubers left in the ground, such a crop can not be culti- vated, and will be so choked by weeds and dwarfed by the hard ground that the yield will be small. It pays well to plow and replant\the crop each sea- son, even though it is planted on the Same ground. Many object to arti- chokes for fear they will become a troublesome weed, but there is no dan- ger from that source. If the young plants are plowed or even hoed off well in midsummer after the old tubers are exhausted and before the new ones are formed, they will be killed. The yield is variable—from 400 to 800 bushels per acre—and its feeding value is fully equal to that of other root crops. In some recent tests at the Oregon station hogs which were given the run of an artichoke field, and were also given a partial feed of grain, made a gain of 1 pound in weight for each 3.1 pounds of grain fed, while it usual- ly takes about 5° pounds of grain to make 1 pound of gain. In tests made at the Missouri: Agricultural College 1 bushel of artichokes and 3 bushels of corn were found superior to 4 bushels of corn, and other tests have given similar results. The inexpensive gain in weight is not the only advantage in using artichokes, as the better health consequent on adding to the ration this fresh and succulent feed is a matter of great importance, especially in ani- mals which are kept for breeding. The best soil for the crop is similar to that which is best for Irish potatoes. It should be rich, mellow, and well drained. On dry, hard clay the yield is always small. Oats for Feeding. Oats for feeding should have an agreeable smell, clean, smooth and bright appearance, and pleasant taste; should feel dry, hard and elastic to the touch when broken between the teeth, and should be fairly well sup- plied with flour, says National Stock- man. The fact that they fulfill these conditions will show that they have been well saved are sufficiently old, possess a due amount of nutriment, and have not suffered from injurious influences, such as damp and mould, as would be evident if they were musty in smell and dull in color. The pres- ence of dust in oats proves that they have been badly saved, and that their quality has undergone more or less de- terioration. A shriveled-up condition is also a sign of inferiority. With a plump variety of oats, if the grains fee] heavy in the hand, rattle more or less like shot when poured out, re- bound when they fall on wood or other hard objects, and show no tendency to stick together, our good opinion of their nutritive value and sound condi- tion will be still further confirmed. The plumper, more rounded, and heav- ier oats are, the higher will be their market value. Thinness of husk will also enhance the price as a rule. The cost of white oats, probably on account of their cleaner and more pleasing ap- pearance, is-higher than that of either black or tawny oats. Old oats are sold at about 15 per cent more than new oats. The term “old” is applied :o oats as soon as the next crop begins to be threshed. Bone and Meat for Eggs.—There is no kind of food that will answer so well as bones unless it is free from fat or starch. If the flock is confined, food must be provided, and then a pro- portion of grain may be allowed; but if the hens are on a range they should be given no food. There is one kind of food that will make hens lay, and that is lean meat. And it may be allowed that those who use bone-cut- ters, and can secure fresh bone from the butchers, can provide the cheapest and best food that can be given. A pound a day for a dozen hens is: ample. It costs but-a small sum for a cutter,, compared with the saving of food, and though operating a bone- cutter demands labor (as a bone is not easily reduced), the gain is more than the expenditure. Meat stands first of all egg-producing foods, and is the cheapest in proportion to results ob- tained.—Ex. Home-Made_ Starters.—Much has been said and written about starters. I have experimented with sour cream from previous ripening, buttermilk and lactic ferments supplied by the trade, but consider the best starter to be one made daily, by the dairyman. I use for that purpose an earthen vessel and fill it with skimmed milk that has been well cooled. This milk I heat to 100 degrees, cover with a piece of linen and put in a warm place, on top of boiler or other suitable place. In 24 hours the milk has soured; the top I skim off and balance goes in cream ag starter.—Ex, The Professional Shake. Mrs. Stubb—Ichn, I do believe that friend you brought up to dinner is a gambler. Mr. Stublb—Why so, Maria? Mrs. Stubb—Because he shook the pepper cruct like it had been a dice- box.—Chicago News. The Mystery of Dust at Sen. It is a puzzling fact that the decks of sailing vessels show dust at night, even if washed in the morning, and no work is done during the day. This i like indigestion and dyspepsia, which creeps on one unawares. ‘The only way to cure them is by the use of Hostet- ter’s Stomach Bitters, which also pre- vents malaria, fever and ague. A Diplomat. She—If a woman were to ask you how old you thought she was, what would you tell her? He—A lie, of course.—Detroit Free Press. “A Thread Every Da a < Makes a Shein in a Year.”” One small disease germ carried by the blood through the system will convert a healthy human body to a condition of in- wvalidism. Do not wait until you are bed- ridden. Keep your blood pure and life-giv- ing all the time. Hood's Sarsaparilla accomplishes this as nothing else can. v Hoods Sa Never Disappoints: AVOID DANGER. The Danger of Catarrh Ointments That Contain Mercury. This journal, although more particu- larly devoted to all that interests finance, commerce and manufactur- ing, is nevertheless always awake to the need and wants of its readers, let the subject be what it may. We were asked to investigate and report upon the merits of the various catarrh reme- dies on the market. The production of preparations of injurious composi- tion cannot, unfortunately, be stopped or restricted at present, or until our state legislatures can be induced to pass such suitable and stringent laws as will effectually prevent their ap- pearance on the market. In the mean- time, the people must look out for themselves. In this matter, we have made a most careful and painstaking investigation, realizing the confidence that would be placed in our reply. Our medical staff employed to make such investigations were most favorably impressed with the preparation known as Hall’s catarrh cure, manufactured by F. J. Cheney & Co. of Toledo, Ohio, and agreed that this peerless remedy deserves our highest indorsement. Many of the catarrh remedies on the market contain mercury, which de- stroys the sense of smell] and deranges the whole system when entering through the mucous surfaces. From analysis we found that Hall’s catarrh cure contains no mercury. It is taken internally, acting directly upon the blood and mucous surfaces of the sys- tem. We have no interest whatever in this matter beyond faithfully serv- ing our readers, and as our indorse- ment is extended without reward of any kind, and is wholly unsolicited by this company, and will be received with the full credence that all our statements have met with for the past eighteen -years.—Southern Review of Commerce. he is ws he s how careles: what he borr seldom lends anything. Anti-Nic! Anti-Nic! You cannot chew or smoke tobacco if you chew M It has cured thou- sands. Will cure you. Perfectly less, and ts only 5 cents per pa age. For » by all druggi ufactured by Capital City Gum Com- p. 191 East Eighth street, St. , Minnesota. If your druggist does not keep it, send 5 ceuts and get sample package by mail. There is an end to all things—except one’s desire for new things. THE GRIP CURE THAT DOES CURE. Laxative Bromo Quinine Tablets removes the cause that produces La Grippe. E. W. Grove’s signature is on each box. 25c. The retrospect of life swarms with lest opportun aylor. FITS Permanently Cured. No fits ornervonsness after first day's use of Dr. Kline's Great Nerve Kestorer. Gnd for FREE 82.00 trial bottle and treatise. Ta. R. H. Kane, 1.ti., $31 Arch St., Philadelphia, Pa. Genius begins great works; alone finishes them.—Joubert. labor Two bottles of Piso’s Cure for Consump-~ tion cured me of a bad lung trouble.—Mrs. J. Nichols, Princeton, Ind.. Mar. 26, 1895. To be proud of learning is the great- est ignorance.—Jeremy Taylor. Mrs. Winslow's Soothing Syrap. For children teething. softens the gums, réduces fn- flammation, allays pain,cures wiad colic. 25c a bottie. -guided youth does every- veetheart tells him: to, The mis hd thing his Attractive Booklet Sent Free. Chotce Recipes for making Cocoa end Chocolate: Address Walter Baker & Co. Ltd.. Dorchester, Mass. 2S EP ae eee A child may cry for hours withort getting them.