Grand Rapids Herald-Review Newspaper, April 28, 1900, Page 6

Seneyresene ED P| ED HD ER 9 ABO LEO an? <p>) <a 0 ee 0 | << 9 << 0 ea 0 cm 0 ce 0 ee 0 0 ae <a ID HEN HEART'S SECRET; Or, UNDER A SPELL. BY JEAN WARNER. 0 <> 1 <a 059 <a> 0 ay, 2 CHAPTER XI. ae - In a Dream. ¢ * “She fs sleeping,” said Fannfe, step- lng softly to her brother's side, as he Reentered the house after his inter- wiew with Dr. Bond. “She is sleeping $0 quietly and sweetly now, I am sure she will be better when she awakens. E have darkened the rooms as the doc tor told me and left her alone. Oh, ®rother. brother!” and Fannie clasped her hands upon Herbert's arm and Tooked up earnestly into his face, | “weren't you frightened almost to} @eath? I was. I thought that angel girl was dying, sure enough!” | “You are very easily frightened, @ear.” said Herbert, lightly. “I have seen ladies faint before.” “You need not pretend to be so phil- @soprical,”” d Fannie, archly. “I saw your face, sir, and you were as white as a sheet. Come, Bertie, tell me the truth. I'll be the most trustworthy of eonfidants. Don’t you love her a wee Hittle bit? Good gracious, if the boy | isn't blushing like a June rose! Ah, £ve caught you, and I’m so glad, Bert- fe—so very, very glad!” “Glad! Of what?” asked Herbert, at your brother been | dently, your fri has not | made you her confidant, or you would ‘rable countenance bo lips, the meaning of her contradictory words—he must know if she were fet- tered or free; for Herbert Clive was the soul of manly honor, and the be- trothed wife of another seemed almost as far removed from him as if the nup- tial vow had been already spoken be- fore God and man. All through the summer day the win- daws of Tannie Clive’s boudoir re- mained clo: and the well-trained Servants passed the door noiselessly. Evening came, and still Sybil seemed to sleep, until Dr. Bond’s carriage drove through the gate, and it was ne- coery. that he, at least, should see her. Then, very softly, Fannie stole into the darkened and perfumed room; very genily drew aside the snowy cur- tains. The pillows still bore the impression of Sybil’s head; her handkerchief and vinaigrette lay upon the floor beside may, Fannie recognized the fact that Sybil herself was gone! General excitement and surprise en- sued. ‘he open side door, leading to a and even Dr. Bond's ly impertu- c = % | ! he said, ‘in an undertone, to “To the know that her heart and hand ere al- read a ged” exclaimed sion of un- feigned dismay. brother, you must be dreaming. Sybil doesn’t ca re, @ fig for anv man in the world—or did ; not 2 month ago. I've heard her say} sm 2 dozen times. When all the other’ g@iris used to be whisnering of their’ beaux and jovers, she would never say | & word, only t proud lip of hers! would curl disdainfully. And she told , me with her own lips, just befe school broke up, that she had never given love or marriage a thought in her life.” i “In such matters, can a young lady’s word be always depended on?’ asked} Herbert, nically. “I believe a little j eauivocation is considered pardonable. Miss Wraye told me, only last even-j| Ing, that she was engaged to—to anoth- a.” “If can’t believe it! " said Fannie, excitedly. “You must have misunderstood her, brother. You don't know, Sybil as I do. She is the! eoul of truth. And she told me—in one | of these rare momenis—for it is very seldom ‘that Sybil cpens her heart— she told me that her life had been too full of sorrow and darkness for the} dreams and hopes of girlhocd to find aj wiace in it. And then she added, with | her sad. sweet smile, that she had nev- er given a thought to love or marriage in ‘her life. 1 remember it so clearly,” coneluded Fannie, clinching the matter} witk giflish decision, “for Helen Lee thad been married that day, and every- body was raving about her diamonds and her laces, and she had sent Mad- am Fleury a great piece of the wedding cake to cut for supper, that was so ich ft made us all sick.” “And this was just before your school ‘roke up—just before she came here?” aid Herbert, eagerly. “Iwo days later,” rnswered Fannie, wesitivelr. “I can't be mistaken, for I have Helen Lee's cards for the 20th of June. And so I’m quite sure,” added Bennie, as, with a bright -smile, she Yosked roguishly up into her brotker's face. “that if she had fallen in love, it thas been since her coming here.’ A light stole over Herbert's face as he gazei affectionately at his sisterly eamforter. A momentary ray of hope geemed to’break through the dull, gray ouil that had settled upon his life. Might he not, indeed, have misunder- stood Sy bils broken, incoherent words? ‘Was not ‘her calm confidence to Fan-1 ule more to ‘be relied upon than her; timid. nervous refusal of last night? Oeuld he hope stiil—hope that in some far-off, shadowy future, Sybil might fearn to love? “Farnie,” he said, after a moment's ; gause, “I would not intrude, dear, up- en the sacred confidence of friend in ficiend. But if it be not a betrayal of each confidence, can you tell me aught | ef Miss Wraye’s friends—of her home? K do vot ask from idle curiosity, but} from an earnest and friendly interest. Father, very naturally, has questioned | me regarding your intimacy with Miss | Wraye, and when and how it was formed, I being. in a great measure, | €w azay douasoid Joy 410} o[qIsuoGaser .¢}send Mos “Papa is so queer and poky about | gome things,” pouted Fannie. “I’m); gure Sybil is as good, and a great deal! Wetter than I am, if her father isn’t as Bich and grand.” “ffer father? Then she has a father fiving?” said Herbert, quickly. “{ don't know; I suppose so,” said Waunie. doubtfwiy. I konw she wears @ locket with his hair in it—but gra- cious knows whether he is dead or; alive. Sybil is so queer she never! epeake of herself or her relatives, and E am sure it was none of my business ! to inquire what she didn’t choose to * I don't beliéye “And she never spoke to you of her home, her friends?’ said Herbert, in a disappointed tone. “{ don’t think she ever did,” said} Wannie. refiectively. “I always fan-| fed che had lived in the country some- ; ‘where, she knew so much about trees | and plants, and could teach Madam @leury more about botany than that oid friz-pate ever knew herself. Some- bow, brother, I don’t think the dear girl's home is a very happy or plens- ant one, and I hope’—Fannie smiled ‘wp again into Herbert's face—“I hope | won't be very long before some nice flow offers her another.” And with this somewhat unsatisfact- ery conclusion, Fannie flitted away to fer flowers, having changed her broth- i saw \ sped, scarcely ‘over the ground. Hops seez 1 rect. ; and the soft gray ‘ alone! I fear Anc—and the opiate bas | ceased to act! Hurry, for} for she knows net what} is sti am!" even rt. her last nigh gone there. not yet she is doing. The Coctor’s tor more. than his w Herbert's steps viver path, spurr fears. Down the steep declivity, through the shadewy grove, the young man y knowing how he passed | sped down the He ‘ed on by a thorsand life in believed cr ng up in immortal dly peril, seemed have taken Tove, that he and despairing, strength. Sybil, in all the world to him 2 The doctor's suggestion proved cor- On the narrow stretch of silvery sand that formied the river beach, Her- bert found the wanderer. She was seated cn a bv had fallen, ages nast, fri above, and had been w waces until it was smoothed and pol- ished as if by a mastef’s han. Her beautiful hair fell about shoulders, unbound her cheeks were fivsze? unv € had a sira , far-away look in their limpid depths, that showed Sybil was, indeed, in a| dream. Sky and water gloved with the rich beauty of the summer sunset, and the fair girl, seated hv the rose-hued waves seemed a different Deing from | the pale wraith who had glided through the moonlight the night be- fore. For there was a smile upon Sybil’s lips, a_ tender rad‘arce in her far-off gaze. She was happy in her dream. : “Syhil!” cried Herbert, deli find his treasure i 3 have frightered us so! Why did you fly awav? Will you not come heme with me?” “Home!” she repeated, sof! ty—“home. Ah, how sweet a word! Have I, in- deed,,a home?” “Poor chi!d—poor new had ge rock, that her: little “He loves me?” repeated Sybil, soft- ly, to herself—“he Inves me! His voice is low and sweet, like distant music-— So sweet to ears that have heard only the bitter, jarring notes ef hate and re- venge. Love, Iove! The werd is so strange ond sweet—o stran7e and sweet! Why must J shut out the beau- tiful sound? Why ¢ inno! I, too, love and be loved? Father, father, take from me my cruel heritage! Give me worran’s sweetest, dearest, ho right—the right to love! I, who have never loved—I, who herve never heped to love. Herbert, Herbert! Ah, there is musie in the very name!” Herbert held his breath and listened. She seemed unconscious of his pres- ! enee, or conscious only as it suggested or accorded with her train of thought. Was it wrong to take her thus at a dis- advantage—wrong to steal from her the secret she guarded so jealously— wrong to read a blissful hone in ber tender smile, her beaming eye? What lover, even be he chivalrous and hon- orable as Herbert Clive, could stop to reason here? “It is so sweet to love,” she contin- ued, softly—“so sweet to know that an eye brightens, and a lip smiles, and a yoice. breathes low music for you Fannie’s love was precious to me: but this—this would seem God's | own priceless gift—Heaven upon earth! Ah, I might believe, I might hope, if 1 had the blessed right to love!” “Sybil, Sybil!’ Herbert sprang for- ward to her feet, forgetful of all other things but the rapturous conviction her words conveyed. “Sybil, is it true, or am I, too, dreaming? Oh, my love, then let ws dream forever—let the waking never come!” But, alas! with his very words, the dream was o'er. She started up with a frightened ery; looked around her in bewilderment. The flush faded from her cheek, the dreamy light from her eye. “Where am. 1?” she said, passing her hand over her brew. “I have been asleep so long. Where am I?” “Ah, here is my lost patient!” said the voice of the old doctor, as he came puffing and panting down the hill. “Ah, you are wide awake now, I see! You did not know you had fallen into the hands of such a grim old wizard. You gave me quite a fright, my dear. I had no idea my little pills would hold you in so potent a spell.” But Sybil did not understand. She @xa stoical endurance of the inevitable {nto all the unrest of suspense. only locked friom one to the other, with wide-open. startled eyes. was changing slowly into the purple} in my own land; and when your fath hues of twilight. The illusory bright-| er was put in my arms, fveand-forty ness had vanished—Sybil’s dream was} years ago—in my arms, that were up- A Distanced Boaster. “T- can play chess without chessmen or chessboard.” oo 08 08 60 0 08 08 08 08 00 6G the sefa; but, with a low cry of dis-; of the surrounding hills. balcony, showed the means of ace a | nature ee YOU! my e has} creature that it was impossible to de- ; | of human likeness; her cheeks and lips | | stone, that might have either for altar homeless | a dove!” said Herbert. pity'ngly. [3 Paes a IN 5 : CHOPTER XII. , Witches’ Cave, P, More than a mile below the grassy slope that was crowned with the state- ly tearsion of the Clives, ran a dark ravine, so’ wild and lonesome in its wooded depths as to defy the most yenturesome speaker ef the pictur- esque from exploring its recesses. A little stream brawling through a rocky channel, made the spot musical with its clamor; but beside the gurgle and .splash of the waters, the warble of the wild bird that could trill unbrok. en melodies from its sequestered nest, rand the hum of a thousand lower crea- tures of the wood, no sound was heard in the darksome hollow, that seemed a bit of Nature’s rebellion against the taming hand of man. And yet the hand of man had thrust itself even there. In the darkest cen- ter of the ravine, where the tangled vines and sturdy undergrowth made appreach almost impossible—at a spot where the little streamlet, widening | into a tiny crystal lake, seemed to sleep for a moment ere it hurried on to meet the sweeping river—was 2 strange structure, half-natural, half- artificial, known by the ominous title of the “Witches’ Cave.” The cave itself was a deep but nar- row fissure, the bed, perhaps, of some | long-dry streamlet, and was popularly supposed to stretch, by its many rami- fications, for miles beneath the surface Just at its opening was built a rude hut, cf rough-hewn logs, so overgrown with vines and mosses as to be scarce- ly distinguishable from the work of round it. yee twilight of the second even- d signs Of; ing after Sybil’s swoon, and an old) man sat beside the few embers on | ich she was preparing her evening | l—so old, and dry and withered a fine her race or color. | Her skin was of a sort of ashen-gray, | and seamed and wrinkled almost out | had Jong ago fallen in around her toothless gums; her grizzled eyebrows met above the two sunken sockets, within which there burned, with a strange, unnatural fire, a pair of fierce | of a bluish color, and the few | s that escaped from the; loc! her fire with a forked stick, and croon- ing to herself some queer old rhyme, she might have easily passed for one| of those “weird women” who, cursed | with unnatural power, live and die) ovtensts from their kind. All around scemed to carry out the} ideas suggested by her appearance. The only furniture in the hunt were 4 couple of rude stools, a huge, fla er table, and the mats that were doubt- less intended for ihe old woman's bed. | Strange skins of all descriptions) bung from the rafters—smakes” and lia- ards’, as well as squirrels’ amd deer’s; beudles of herbs were drying in every corner; while, mest remarkable of ali, from the center cf the rough ceiling} hung a huge stalactite, that eaught the red glimmer of the fire and flung it back over the room in a sort of lurid glow. Sucdenly the old weman lifted her head, with the quick, startled move- ment of a wild creature of the wood. She had heard a s‘ep, though the light footfall, that scarce rustled the fallen leaf, could be distinguished by no oth- er e For a moment she Iistened, then, n0d- ; dine her head several times, bezaz stirring the porridge again. “It is her—ha, ha!—it is her,” mut- tered the ill-omened cld being, with a fi lant lauch. “She'd like to keep frem old Rizpah if she coula, but she can’t. The spell is on her, in her Blood, and in her bones and in her heart. It was bern in her, and it was bred in her, and she ean’t get away from it with all her book-learning aud her knewledge. She has to come back to old Rizpah et Iast!” Even 9s she spoke, a slight fo-m shadowed the threshold—a young girl, with a soft, white mande fiung ever her mnelin dress, and the Capuchin hood drawn over head and shoulders, entered the hut, and, flinging away the tempcrary disguise, displayed the pale, exatisite features and floating hair of Sybil Wreaye. “Rizrah, is father here?’ she asked, breathlessly. Tlere was no answer. The old wo- man centinued her low crooning, as though she could not hear. “Ripah,” veneated Sybil, in a louder yoice—‘Rizpah! can you not hear me?’ “I hear you,” was the auiet rejoin- der, “Look around you. Can you see hint here? Rizpah has no parlor or drawing room, wherein honored guests can wait.” “Ah, you are cross this evening!” said Sybil, ina gentle voice. “Are you suffering, Rizpah?’ “At eighty one is always suffering,” was the reply; “but no more than com- mon—no more than common.” “I have been sick myself—a little,” said Sybil, sinking down on the deer- skin mat before the fire. “They gave me medicine that made me forget my- relf and it frightened me. I was afraid that I might have said some- thing that—that—But papa is safe? You are sure he is safe, Rizpah?” “Safe enough,” was the old woman's answer “Why do you fear for him, child? Have I rot read his fate a thousand times in the silent stars. in the running waters, in the whispering leaves? Have I not cradled him in my arms, nursed him from my breast? Haye I not Joved and cared for him with a love fiercer, wilder, stronger than that of the mother who bore him? If I do not fear for him, why should | you?” “Why should I!” echoed the girl, sadly. “Because I,have not your faith | or your superstition, Rizpah—be- cause—" The young girl shuddered. Strive as she would against it, this old woman’s wild, dark creed had been one of the influences that had shaped her life. “Aye, aye,” continued Rizpah, ‘2 know—I know! I was taught to read Be must know, from Sybil’s own] ‘The roezate flush on earth and sky} the stars and the waters by wise men, ‘Tove like kindred love. lifted t9 curse those who had torn m; own baby from their clasp—my hea that was full cf bitterness against all mankind, opened again to the white- faced babe, and I learned to love him, even as my own flesh and blood! He kept Rizpah from growing mad with her grief; he drew the poison from her bosom; and when she sang him to sleep with the songs of her own race she forgot her wrongs and again was happy. And when he, too, was wronged—when they robbed my nurs- ling of his name and his birthright, when his mother died of a broken heart in my arms, and his father left Lim, beggared and desclate—then old Rizpah’s strong right arm stood be- tween her boy and want, and the child grew and thrived, wild and fierce, and strong as those whom the she-wolf suckles and rears—grew up to claim and win his own. And he will win it!” “Rizpah,” said Sybil, taking the withered old hard within her own snowy palms, and speaking gently and tenderly, “I know what papa owes to your noble devotion; I know what I likewise owe to it. But, oh, Rizpah, think of what his life has been! think of the long, weary, bitter years spent in those fruitless efforts to gain his own! think of the manly prime wasted in wicked plans for revenge, justice— eall it what you will! think, Rizpah, of what peace, what happiness, what safety, we have lost! and, oh, in pity for your nursling, cease to urge him, by your wild hopes and dark prophecies, on the road to ruin! Let us fly from here, all of us; the air itself seems heavy with danger. Let us fly from here. Would to heaven I had never come near this fated spot!” “You talk like your mother,” said old Rizvah, seernfully, drawing her hand from Sybil’s grasp—‘like your nether, whose blood ran cold and weak in her veins, and who was never the fitting mate for my boy. like the dove in the eagle’s nest, striv ing ever to keep him: always quiet. At fir I thought you had more cf your father’s beld spirit. I thought you had learned from him how to hate his foes; I thought that, with the serpent’s cun- ning. you had stolen into their hi ie. and I boasted that one step was gained. But you are no serpent, to strike your fierce sting into the foot that tramples you; you ‘are the werk woman that will not turn, even when errsked. Go! Rizpah scorns you!” The young gi-sl’s pale face flushed slightly at the old woman’s bitter ti- | rade. But she glanced at the withered face, and its haggard, half-wild ex- pression made her patient again. Sybil remembered the Gays wher this poor, old, half-crazed being hed been the strongest prop of her father’s fortune — the faithful, unwearying nurse of her dying mother—the watch- ful guardian of her own childisi sports—servant, friend, fierce, out- spoken ‘counsellor, all in one. And now, tottering on the verge of the grave, homeless anid friendless, be- cause he whonr she bad served so long and faithfully had neither home nor friends, it was little wonder that poor old Rizpah’s failing mind fixed itself with fierce tenacity upon the wild hopes she had encouraged for so many years, and that she strove to strength- en her failing powers by recurring to the dark superstition of her youth. “Iam neither the serpent nor the worm, Rizpah,” Sybil said, with a good-humcred smile. “I ¢ame to Clive Towers much against my will, and ovly because a lovely, innocent girl, who has surely never harme:} me er mine, asked me to come as her guest.” “Her guest! their guest!” repeated old Rizpah, bitterly. “You, who should be mistress there, seated at their table and breaking their bread! Child, child. it is a wonder you did not strangle at the first mouthful. It is a wonder their wine and water did not poison your bloc@! There jis no hate like kindred hate. even as there is 9 Ah, if you had been a bor! But your poor, weak mother could only give life to a puling girl?” “World to hesven I had died when she did!” said Sybil, clasping her hands passionately; “for I live an accursed life, shadowed by danger; darkened and embittered by hatred and reverge. There is vo light for me, no beauty, no"—ch, the thrilling pathos, the heart- break of the wor’s—“~o hone!” “Aye, there is hope!’ said ad Roz path, eatehing the Inst word—‘there is hepe, child. Have 1 not told you the stars have safl it? Aye, there is hope for you. Listen to me!” She bent her withered face clese to Sybil, while the cuning gleam of madness lit her deep. set eyes. “or three years I have lived In this spot alone, and often well-nigh starving. For what, eh? For what? Lock here’—the old woman took Sybil hy the hand and led her to the back of the hut, where, lifting one of the skins, she disclosed the dark, narrow opening of the cave, through which came a cold, damp draught of air—“look here. These feeble steps have tracked that cave through all its windings, and it leads—ha, ha! where, think you, it leads? To the wine vaults that un- derlie the proud towers of the robber Clive! Let them close their gates and bar their doors against the rightful heir as they will, but his daughter sits at their fireside. and his fester-mother watches them like the fox in his bur-\ row. with this in her breast!” and Riz. pah flashed the blade of a small, keen dagger before Sybil’s affrighted eyes. “Aye, before another Clive grasps his father’s ill-gotten wealth—before Rob- ert Clive’s son which belongs of right to the child of my childthis dagger shall drain the last drop of life-blood from the breast of the robber’s heir!” (TO be Continued.) A New View. “It jist struck me,” said Dismal Dawson, , ‘as he felt about in the bot- tom of his pockets for a few grains of tobacco, “that me an’ the distilleries is in active opposition.” “What?” shouted Everett Wrest, al- most with energy. ) “Ye see, the stuff theyre busy puttin’ wp is the stuff I’d like to be busy put- tin’ down’’—Indianapolis Press. They May Be. “Do vow think that rabbits’ feet are lucky?” Tenspot asked. “J do if they are rapid enough to car- ty the rabbit safely away from the hunter,” replied Mullins.—Detroit Free Press 211... Bo ates Oo © wo ee Oo She wes» In Minnesota. State News of the Week Briefly Told. 80 00 0 00 00 00 08 oe Oe me O Fergus Falls farmers have finished seeding. Mrs. B. F. Pillsbury of Granite Falls is dead. Crookston people are figuring on a knitting mill. Hon. J. F. Pope. lawyer of Plain- view, is dead. T. T. Vestby of Alden sues for false imprisonment. Three large saw mills start the sea- son at Duluth. A tug war is scheduled to occur at Duluth this spring. A Detroit roller mill burned to the ground. Loss $7,000. Theodore Thorsen, a farmer at Ma- bel. has disappeared. E. Medtling was shot in Rosseau county by S. Sacknes. Petitions are being circulated to have St. Louis county divided. M. 8. Evans’ butcher shop at New Paynesville burned. Loss. $500. Small boys at Winona were caught stealing lead pipe. Amount $200. The Ideal flour mill at Stillwater has been sold to Minneapolis parties. Liverymen of St. Cloud and Little Falls were victimized by a horse thief. A great iron find is reported on the Duluth & Iron Range near Allen Junc- tion. The little son of Mr. and Mrs. Louis Hovey of Rochester was found dead in bed. " J. Panse, an elderly business man of Hastings, dropped dead from heart disease. The substructure of the Duluth ship canal has been finished. It has cost $200,000. John O'Brien of Stillwater has pur- chased 8.000000 feet of logs for John Lemalta of Menahga, aged fif- teen, was erushed to death under @ wagon. A little granddaughter of Fred Meyer at St. Cloud was burned to death in a brush fire. The will of James Walsh of Stillwa- ter has been filed. The estate amounts to $25,000. fast Grand Forks and Fisher have united in asking for the division of Polk county. The Minnesota national guard’s new equipment is on its way from the Rock Island arsenal. A St. Cloud farmer has received $S conscience money for hams stolen sev- eral years ago. F. J. Jackson and E. Johnson of Hastings have secured Western rail- road contracts. W. B. Anderson is being boomed to succeed Congressman Tawney of the First district. Samuel Randall, a Chicago & North- western engineer; wus quite badly scalded at Balaton. It is found that regulations for the control of infectious diseases in umber districts are needed. The postoffice at Sheridan, Faribault county. has been ordered discontinued. Mail will be sent to Keister. A bill was introdueed by Representa- tive Eddy increasing to $50 a month the pension of Elijah Biddle. Harry St. Albans of Stillwater, vio- lated the terms of his parole and was compelled to return to prison. The Northern Pacifie bank at Brain- erd has passed into the control of Messrs. Hemsted' and McGinnis. Commissioner O'Shaughnessy has no- tified two insurance companies that their licenses will not be renewed. J. A. Cosgrove, » Le Sueur harness- maker, has received $110 “eonscience” money. Identity of sender unknown. The Northern Pueifie Raihway com- pany has decided to build a large num- ber of flat ears for logging purposes at Duluth. W. A. Funk has formalty announced his candidacy for eomzress from the Second congressional district to suc- ceed MeCleary. Free delivery has been ordered es- tablished at Fergus Falls to take effect Sept. I. Three carriers and one sub- stitute will be appointed. Maurice ®. Todd, cashier of the de- funct Fillmore County Bank of Pres- ton, has beem released on bail, his bondsmen being creditors of the bank. Senator Davis introduced a_ bill granting a pension of $50 a month to | Anna E.. Littlefield, widow of the late | Col. and Breyet Brid. Gen. Milton S. | Littlefieta. Winona, about to enlarge its sewer- age system, is threatened with the closing of the street car line. The ‘railway company wants pipes laid to one siue of the track. J. F. Pope, one of the leading law- yers of Plainview, died at the age of sixty-four years. He served as judge of probate in Wabasha county from 1875 to 1888, inclusive. The village of Balaton has decided to commence work at once on the water works plant. They will build a ninety- foot tower and a 500-barrel tank. The well is to be ten feet in diameter. Articles of incorporation of the Union Ore company have been filed with the register of deeds at Duluth, The incorporators are M. C. McKinnoa, Arthur Howell and William Elder. An agreement has been filed with the register of deeds at Duluth between I’. W. Bonness of Minneapolis and the Lesure Lumber company of Duluth, whereby the latter becomes the owner of the pine in town 58-16. The consid- eration is $9,000. The Great Northern is contemplating some improvements in Litchfield, among them a new depot. In return the company demands concessions from the city in the way of closing certain street cros: and a low monthly rate for keeping its tank filled with water. Sapa ne eed AOE ae corel oP “Pooh! I've played golf without golf hose and before I knew the dialect,”— Indianapolis Journal. Millions for Baseball. A million of dollars are spent every year for baseball, but large as this is, it cannot equal *he amount spent in search of health. We urge those who have spent much and lost hope to try Hostetter’s Stomach Bitters. It strengthens the stomach, makes diges- tion easy, and cures dyspepsia, consti- pation, biliousness and weak kidneys. } Probably. “We don’t hear you sing nowadays, Miss Madeline.” “My physician has strictly forbidden me to practice.” “Does he live in your neighborhood?” —New York World. A Mother’s Tears. **1 would Cry Every Time 1 Washed My Baby.’”’ “When he was3 months old, first fes- ters and then large boils broke out on my baby’s neck. The sores spread down his back until it became @& mass of raw flesh. When I washed and pow- dered him I+ « would cry, realizing whet pain he was in. His pitiful wailing was heart-rending. I had about given wp hope of saving him when I[ was urged'togive him Hood’s Sarsa- parilla, all other treatment having failed. I washed the sores with Hood's Medicated Soap, applied Hood's: Olive Ointment and gave him Hood’s Sarsaparifia. The child seemed to get better every day, and very soon the change was quite noticeable. The discharge grew less,. inflammation went down, the skin took on a healthy color, and the raw flesh began to scale over and @ thin skin formed as the scales dropped off, Less than two bottles of Hood’s Sarsapa- rilla, aided by Hood’s Medicated Soap and Hood’s Olive Ointment, accomplished this wonderful cure. I cannot praise these medicines half enough.” Mrs,. GUERINOT, 87 Myrtle St., Rochester, N.Y. The above testimonial is very much con- densed from Mrs. Guerinot’s letter. As many mothers will be interested in reading the full letter, we will send it to anyone who sends request of us on a postal card, Mention this paper. And She Did. Benham—I want you to understand that I am the head of the family!” Mrs. Benham—The doctor said 3 would have throuble with my head,”— Harper's Bazar. LABASTINE: is the: original and’ only durable wall coating, entirely different from all kat- somines. Ready for use in white or fourteen beautiful tints by adding cold water. ‘ADIES naturally prefer ALA BASTINE for walls end ceil- ings, because it is pure, clean, durable, Put up in ey pow- dered form, in flve-pound pack- ages, with full directions, LL kalsomines are cheap, tem- porary preparations made-frem whiting, chalks, clays, etc., and stuck on walls with de- cay!ng animal glue. ALABAS- TINE 1s 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 OFPERING something he has bougnt cheap and tries to sell on ALABASTINE'S de- mands, he may not realize the damege you will suffer by a kalsomine om your wi ENSIBLE dealers will mot 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. WALES of every chureh:and school should ‘be coated only with pure, dur- able ALABASTINE. It safe- guards health. Hundreds of tons used. yearly for this.work. N BUYING ALABASTINE, ‘customers: should avoid get- ting cheap kalsomines under different names. Instst on having our goods in packages and properly labeled. UISANCE of walt is ob- viated by ALABASTINE. It can be used on plastered walls, wood ceilings, brick or can- vas. A child can brush it on. It does not rub or scale off. STABLISHED tm favor. Shun ‘all imitations. Ask paint deal- er or druggist for tint card. ‘Write as for interesting book- let, free. ALABASTINE co. Grand Rapids, Mich. pe el Ne We iba a en EAI DO YOU WANT TO BE YOUNG AGAIN? If the vigor of youth has fied, or if you are run down and debilitated and wish to ve. the fire and enereg, of. youth” re- This is a scienti renredy » warral to build up the prays own System man or woman and make the user a perfect WHITE’S REMEDY Co., Lock Box 151, Minneapolis, Minn,