Grand Rapids Herald-Review Newspaper, May 12, 1900, Page 6

| | Phebe eee Or Under a Spel. eee ¢ Wee CHAPTER XV. (Continued.) “Dear me! Who'd have thought it?” said Miss Felic advancing to meet ber visitor. “M Grey, as I live, and looking so sweet, and so fresh, and so delightful. ‘This is a pleasure, indeed!” and Miss Feenix, whose withered vis- age could never haye been called either fresh. sweet or delightful, puckered up her face into a vinegary smile, and pecked Miss Marian affectionately on the cheek. ‘Do come in and sit down. X was just straightening things up a bit. Widow Lee and Sophia Dawes— you know Sophia Dawes holds her if people could hoveled in their $ ying, they head very high now, forget her father coals. Well, as I stepped in for a chat and a cup of tea; and some people can't even take a bit of cake without leaving things all in a muck. and have a won't Sit down here by the window fan. Take a chair; it that lovely lawn. As I y Wirt, last Sunday, ly has the sweetest You know Mary Wirt Wirt, the soapboiler’s grand- Left her a lot of money; r, soup will stick. She al- ways locks dowdy, dress how she will.” “I was just passing by,” said Miss Marian. who felt that this sudder re- newal of friendship required some slight explanation, and who never let honesty betray her into an awkward- ness, “and your little place looked so Sieet. Miss Feenix, that I thought of old. tim when dear mamma used to bring us here, and felt I must stop for a chat. We have had so much compa- ny this summer, and I have had so lit- tle time to visit old friends—” “I am sure of it,” said Miss Feenix, accepting the umet of peace, eagerly, for Miss Gre friendship would be quite a feather in her s *Of course it’s only natu tractive young people like you and Mr. Laurence—deav me! it seems only the other day that he little Laurie—it’s only natural, I say, that you should draw gay young company to Grey- law and then, Clive Towers is 80 I hear that they are having fine s there this summer. Miss Fannie bome—and what a sweet, lovely he is, so bright and charming, and like creature, that was with ther in church on Sunday. Is it really true that she is young Mr. Clive’s in- tended? I couldn't help noticing that his eyes were fixed half the time on ‘her but then, my dear—you will aying—I thought and told Louisa Knoll, who was speeking of the matter, that it had been a settled thing between Mr. Clive and you.” Feenix had intended to spur tor on, she could not have chos- en her words more judiciously. Miss Marion's eyes flashed, as she re- foined, leftily “You are quite mistaken, I assure you, Miss Feenix. Mr. Clive never has thought of me, nor I of him. I have been Fannie’s particular friend, and, no matter what happens, will alw the s: to her. But. as for any near- crush —old daughter? but, mv d er relationship, I am happy to tell you there is no probability of it—none | whatever.” ; “Dear o'd have thought | -drawn breath. -differently from what people expect. ‘Well. my dear, I can’t say that I’m sor- ‘ry, and I can’t say that Pm glad, for Herbert Clive is the finest catch in the “county.” “Do you think so?”asked the visitor, With scornful doubt. a, with a long- { | { ' “Do I think so, my dear? Why, I really know so!’ answered Miss Feli- ia, positively. “Why, his father’s syealth must be enormous. Not that he ewasn't poor enough once, for his own parents left him nothing; but old Basil | ‘Clive. his father’s only brother, adopted ‘him, and schooled, and set him up fair- dy in business; .then finished off by dying without any will, and leaving his mephew heir to everything. The old | man was the queerest, most eccentric | old being. No person had any idea of shat he was worth until he died, and then he wos found to have at least a million of money banked and stocked, and invested in ev sort of w nov to mention the land about here, which fs worth now fully a quarter of a mill- ‘ion more. I happen to know so post tively, because Luck Blake, the assess- or’s wife, is a particular friend of mine, and she says Robert Clive’s taxes alone take a handsome suai yearly; for Rob- ert Clive was old Basil's only heir.” Miss Marian’s brow darkened; the skeleton, then, was not the fleshless giant of pecuniary distress; the proud s had never felt the pinch of -pov- ‘There were no mortgages upon j those smiling acres, those waving fields and shadowy forests; no debts were | banging ever the Towers like a threat- ening cloud. t Miss Marian was rather disappoint- ed. She had entertained a vague idea | that it was some enraged creditor { Secret I “Things do turn out so |werthy earnestness, seconded his efforts Her Heart’s By JEAN WARNER. —Miss Feenix nodded her head sagely —‘he never would have got Agnes Dean for his wife; for, with her money and attractions, she could have looked for the best in the land. Her father would not give his consent to the mar- riage until Robert Clive was master of Clive Towers; then he was willing enough.” “But suppose the pretended heir coudl have proved his claim?’ asked Miss Marian. who was listening, with breathless attention. “Suppose Basil Clive had, indeed, left a son? Then— then—” ; “Robert Clive would never have touched a penny of his uncle’s money,” said Miss Feenix, positively—not a penny; for there was no will, It would have been different for him and his, my dear—very different, indeed! Herbert and Fannie wouldn't be the catches they are now, I can tell you. "I'was old Basil’s money niade them all.” “Old Basil's money!’ Miss, Marian walked home with the words echoing in her ears and a look of malicious tri- umph in her eyes. As she repassed the open gate of Clive Towers, she paused and glanced in at the graceful group assembled on the flowery terrace. A riding expedition through the shaded lane had been proposed, and the young people were just preparing to mount. Fannie made the mest bewitching of Di Vernons. in her dark-blue riding habit, with her soft, brown tresses and laughing face locking out from beneath a masculine beaver, Fenton Forest was reining in prancing military charger at her side, while Herbert Clive was carefully in- specting the saddle-girths of the snow- white Fairy, that was the especial pride of his father's stable, ere he trust- ed the spirited little Arab with the slight, graceful figur> waiting quietly beside the granite pillar of the porch. It was to this figure that Miss Mari- an's most malevolent glance was di- rected. Sybil Wraye was in her simple riding habit of olive-green, her lovely hair knotted up beneath a soft cavalier hat. whose drooping plumes shaded her beautiful face most becomingly, was 2 picture that might have disarmed the malice of any but a sister-woman, But Miss Marian Grey was a woman, ard a rival; hence, the light in her eye grew more pitiless as she recognized | the beauty and grace she could not deny. “Old Clive’s money made them all,” she repeated. to herself—“old B: Clive’s money! What if it should not rightly be theirs? What if, after all, there is another heir? You have given me a clue, Miss Feenix—you have given me a clue—and it will not be my fault if I do not follow ft to the end. ft will not be my fault if Herbert Clive brings that white-faced chit as mistress at Clive Towers.’ | his CHAPTER XVI. A Morning Ride. It was chiefly for Sybil’s benefit this | ride ad been proposed. Dr. Bond had | suggested active recreation of all kinds as the best tonic for his patient, and Herbert and Fannie had, with praise- | to arouse their guest from the state of nervous derressien into which she ad fallen. the shadow of fear and terror over all. She guided her horse with a listless, uncertain hand, she seemed to hear without heeding, Herbert’s effort at conversation; she answered absently and at random. Pained and mortified, Herbert him- self grew moody and taciturn, and they had gone on for some moments in si- lence, when Sybil suddenly seemed to arouse herself by a painful effort, ana said, in a grave and earnest tone: “I want to make a request of you, Mr. Clive—a strange request; one that you will not understand, and that I cannot explain.” : “To ask of me is to obtain, Miss Sybil, as you know,” was the somewhat constrained reply. ; “No: I do not know,” she corrected, “for Iam aware that my request will seem an utterly unreasonable one. I want you’~she gave one of her fright- ened glances around her a sshe spoke, and lowered her voice almost to a whis- per—“I want you to leave home, Mr. Clive; to go abroad, if possible, for an indefinite time.” “To leave home?” echoed Herbert, in uncencealed surprise. “To go abroad? My dear Miss Wraye, you are incom- prehensible! “I know it,” she answered, in a de- spairing tone. “I told you I could not explain. Yet. ‘tis a nie's friend I speak; as—as"’—her voice faltered, “as your friend. There is danger threaten- ing you here, Mr. Clive—terrible dan- ger; and—and, until that danger is re- moved, I beg of you to leave home.” Herbert's face flushed. “Danger threatening me here, in my own home, and you would have me flee from it, like a coward? My dear Miss Wraye, you must have but a poor opin. ion of my manhood, of my courage!” “There are perils against which man hood, courage, she an- swered, in a voice thrilling with pain. “There is a danger which no hand, however strong, can combat—dark, un- known dangers, from which flight is the only safety; and—and’—her soft eyes fixed themselves upon him, full of terrible meaning, “Mr. Clive, it is such danger that threatens you. Oh, for your own sake, for the sake of all you love. be warned in time! Ily, fly, be- | fore it is too late!” But his face only set itself sternly into the likeness of his father—into a nger and more forbidding likeness still. that of his great-uncle, Basil Clive. You forget that you speak to a man, Miss Wraye.”’ he answered, proudly— “to a man in whom ebedience to such a warning would be both weak and cowardly. To fly from any danger is womanly but to fly from an unknown | danger would be the basest pusillani- “Then you will not hear me—you will not heed me?” she eried in a tone whose pathos went to Herbert's heart. “Surely, surely, the curse of Cassandra is mine!’ “Sybil, Sybil!” eried the young man, throwing off the mask of formality and speaking in a moved voice, “for God's sake .have done with these mysteries! What is this shadow under which you young life is withering? What cloud is it that hangs between you and the sun- shine of love and hope? For I know that no other Jeve, no other tie, binds your heart. I know, darling—forgive me if I hold the precious secret dropped from your uncoascious lips—I know the first pure love of that maiden heart is “You know that—that—” Oh. the beautiful blush that stele like a dawn over that pallid face, the light that trembled in those downeast eyes, the auiver of those parted lips! For one bright moment the spell was broken, the statue lived. tire woman breathed! “I know that you do care for me a little, Sybil.” was the happy answer. “Tell me. darling, is it not so? There is no other love binding your heart? Only one little word, Sybil—one little word | will lift the weighy of suspense from | my heart. Say that I have no rival, | Sybil—your hand apd heart are free. Darling, I can wait patiently. IT will) not harrass yow with vows of love if you will only tell me that I have some far-off hope of winniwg you at Imst.’” “Hope, hope? No, no, there is no She started at every sownd; the slight- | est whisper blanched her cheek to a | deathly pallor; she could neither rest o~ | sleep. Some ever-present terror seemed | to haunt her night and day, and she | drooped beneath it, like the flower that | is shadowed by the deadly boughs of | the Upas tree. But, despite the clowd upen her hap- piness, the gentle girl had unconscious- ly entwined around her the affection of all at Clive Towers. Not only Herbert | and Fannie, who were already captiv to her charms, but every ser t in the | house rendered the une. ing guest most willing attention; amd@ even Mr. Clive’s prejudice had somehow melted away, and he had never carried out his first intention of writing to Madam | Fleury and inquiring from her the ante- eedents of his daughter’s friend. His stern, cold eyes eften followed Sybil’s fairy-like form with a strange interest, and though she avoided him persistently, his tone, when they did meet, was as gentle and kind as when he greeted his own loved daughter. Even stern, unyielding Robert Clive had fallen under Sybil’s spell. Only this morning, as the horses were being led out, he had stopped Herbert with a warning. “The Arab is a little restive. If Miss Wraye is to ride her, be sure that the girths are safe. Fairy is gentle, but, as you know, she is easy to take fright; so keep an eye on her.” ; Herbert smiled to himself as he as- sented. It was scarcely necessary to warn him to watch the horse that whose menaces she had overheard, | gypjl rode. some defrauded money-lender, who was } making vain and desperate efforts to obtain justice. “His only heir,” continued Miss Fee- nix. who. when wound up for a gossip, wrould have kept at it allday. ‘Though there was. I remember, some sort of a queer story, at old Basil’s death, ef a wild young fellow making his appear- ance at the house and claiming to be his son by a private marriage. Of course, nobody believed him, and, in- deed, ’twas said he acted more like a madman than a Christian; cursed and wore at Robert, and declared that he ‘was betraying the old man’s trust.” “Dear me!” exclaimed Miss Marian, with eager triumph flashing in her eyes; “and how was the matter settled? Fannie and Fenton had dashed off in a mad race through the woods, and, for the first time since their meeting by the sunset river, now nearly a week ago, | Sybil and Herbert were alone. Their way led through a grassy lane, bounded on either side by thickset | hedges and shaded by giant trees that met in a canopy over their heads. Their horses’ feet fell noiselessly upon the grassy sward. In thé silence of the summer morning they seemed brought {again despite themselves face to face. Herbert felt strangely embarrassed: and constrained; his memory of Sybil's uncénscious revelations were still fresh in his mind. He felt as guilty as though he had stolen into the pure sanctuary of her maiden heart and What became of the pretended son?” “They got rid of him somehow, and hushed tke matter up,” answered Miss Feenix. “Of course, no one put any faith in his story, for old Basil Clive ‘was not the sort of man to make a fool robbed it of its guarded treasures. But there was no trace of maiden hope!” sie answered. the life-light fad- | ing from her face. “But it is neither | | love uor lover that stands between us, | Mr. Clive. You nristeok my words | strangely if you thought so. T have no thought ef other or other lover when I tell you the barrier between us is one we ne'er can cross. But—but’—she hesitated for # moment, and tiem she | went on. in a ¢lear,. sweet and sorrgw- ful veice—“if it wilf make yow believe me, trust me, listem te me more willing- ly. L will speak toe you us ome dead might speak from a far-off splrere, and tell you that. but for the dark abyss that yawns between us, [—I--might | have loved you, might have listened to you, might have found earth's sweetest happiness at your side. It can never be now—never, never, never! But for the sake of what might have been, in pity for the heart that you have wak- ened, onty to make it suffer more keen- ly, listen to me—fiy and save yourself from dangers that I know, yet cannot avert!” “Tt eannot listen to you, Sybil,” he an- swered ,gravely. “I would brave death willingly at your bidding, but I cannot sacrifice my manhood. If danger threat- ens those dear to me, I must stay and share it. And for your. other words, Sybil, there is a whispering hope in them that I will hold through life and death. As long as no other tie, no oth- er love. stands between, you are mine, mine! Mine, darling, despite your fears, your tremors—despite your own little timid self! Mine, though I wait for years ere I can claim you. Mine, al- though a thousand shadowy petils stood between us—though death itself barred the way!” Even as he spoke there was a rustle in the thick undergrowth beside him, and a dark face, inflamed with envy and hate, looked out upon the riders. With a ery of terror, Sybil threw her horse back upon his haunches, as a sharp report rang out through the wocés. A flash for a moment blinded Her- bert’s eyes, and when he could see | grasp that was almos? painful, she be- again, Sybil lay wounded and bleeding beneath the Arab’s feet, CHAPTER XvII. Fannie’s Fortune. Fannie’s pretty bay Terry, had won the impromptu race, and her mistress pride or maiden coyness in Sybil’s man- ner—no reflection of the blush and° smile she had worn in her dream; only the white rigid repressed expression. of drew her up triumphantly in the little glade which was the appointed goal, and waited for the arrival of the cava- of himself, and everybody knew that | pain on every feature—the sudde1 r. Whose heavy charger had made no Bobert was his heir. If he hadn’t been” | frightened glance of the Senstsoh ened mei all pf the spirited little mare. “Good Terry, pretty Terry!” said the young girl, stroking the silken mane of her pet; “you have won my gloves for me this morning, and you shall have a new silver bit. This ugly curb hurts my beauty’s mouth. ‘There, there!’ as the animal began to srort and quiver, “what's the matter? What do you see? There is nothing here to harm you, Ter- ry. Why, Terry—" But Fannie’s soothing tone broke off suddenly in a cry of alarm, as she, too, caught sight of the object that had ter- rified her mare. Just beside her the heavy under- growth had parted suddenly, and a weird, ghostly figure appeared, as if emerging from the earth—a shriveled, palsied old woman whose still erect form and flashing eyes seemed in un- natural contrast to her trembling limbs and wizened features—a woman whose fierce gaze was fixed upon the young rider with such malignant hate that even thoughtless Fanny was quick to recognize and shrink from it appalled. “So you are riding out, my fine young lady?’ mumbled the old crone, show- ing her toothless gums in a hideous smile—‘“riding out this beautiful morn- ing. Maybe you'd cross my hand with a silver sixpence, and let the old wo- man tell you your fortune. It ought to be 2 rare one, with such a face and form as yours. Cross my hand, pretty lady, and let the old woman read your fortune!” Fannie glanced around her quickly; Fenton was not yet in sight; Sybil'’s warning recurred to her mind, and made her cold with fear; the old wo- man’s glittering eyes, fixed full upon her. seemed to read her very soul. She advanced a step, and placed her skinny, vellow hand upon Terry's bri- dle, while she still kept her uncanny gaze upon Fannie’s frightened face. “Your fine soldier gentleman has missed his way,” she said, with a ma- licious leer. “I saw him galloping down the river lane fiy eminutes ago. What! are you afraid? Afraid! The daughter of the proud, haughty master of Clive Towers. afraid of an old woman like me? Ha, ha, ha! Why, your father wonld have poor Rizpah’s earcass thrown to the dogs, if she dared to lay a finger on you. I know him, you see. Ha, ha!” There was something fearful in the old erone’s discordant laugh. “Yes, yes, I know him well!” “Then you know he would never harm the old and weak,” answered the young girl, with dignity. . For, with all her childishness, there was a proud, noble spirit within Fan- nie*Clive’s breast. “Neyer harm the old and weak?’ re- peated the old woman, bitterly—“he would never harm the old and weak? Try him, my beautiful lady. Tell him that old Rizpah is in his power, and sce what he will do. Ha, ha! Why, he would grind me into power! He would crush these palsied bones one by one. There would not be a hair of this aged head left. if Robert Clive had his haughty way!” Fannie trembled at the old ereature’s words. She was mad, evidently. None but a mad woman eould talk talk thus wildly of herpapa. And, oh, how quiet and lonely the place was! Fenton | must have lost his way. She must hr- mor this poor creature; she must try and get away from her quietly, for} those fierce, eager eyes warned’ Fannie that old Rizpali woulwW be dangerous: if | enraged. “Tell my fortune for me, won't you?” she said, drawing off her pretty gaunt- let, and placing a silver piece in the old woman's withered hand “f have never | had it told yet, so be sure you make it a. true one.” With trembling eagerness tle oli’ wo- man clutched tlie girl's’ snowy hand. “IT will make it true enough never fear—true enougli! Fa ha! Old Riz pah will make it true enough!’ And still holding the little hand’ in « gan to mumble and’ mutter over its del- icate lines, as if repeating’ some evil in- cantation. Fannie’s terror was for a moment conatered by tlie fascination all young minds feel in such efforts to unveil the unknown. Surely, she,. whose present was so bright and full of promise, liad oniy | dazzling hope and’ lappy love to: look forward to in tte future. With a blush and’ a smile, this dar ling of fortune lifted the veil’ of Fate: |: “Well. mother, wiizt do you see?” she: asked, gaily. _ “What do Ii see?" repeated Rizpah, slowly lifting-her fierce, malignant gaze to the young girl's face. “Dees the daughter of Robert Clive,. the spoiler, the usurper,. ask what I see? Listen, then.” she said. sinking her voive to @ low. threaiening whisper, that sounded to the terrified: Fannie like the hiss. of a reptile before it Launches ifs. deadly sting. “I see only poverty,. ruin,. dis- grace. I see a broken home and a blackened name: I see a false lover, a false friend. a false servant.. [ see a darkened life-amd a broken heart.. It fs enough. Ha, be!’ Rizpah’s. wild laugh of triurph echoed through the woods. “Enough—aye, enough even for the fair young daughter of Robert Clive! Not I, but the stars Lave said it. It is enough:—it is enough!” “Fenton! Fenton!’ shrieked Fannie, as that young gentleman’s horse at lengil: appeared through; the trees. “O, Ferten. come—come quick to me!" “Calt him!” said old Rizpah, with her malignant laugh—“aye eall your fine lover to your side. He cannot change the fates—he cannot change the future. Calt him now! Ha ha! the day will come when you will eall him im-vain!’ “She is mad she is mad!” exclaimed |. Fannie whose lovely face was ashen with terror. “Do not harm her Fenton; the poor creature is mad!” “What has she said? I'll break every bone in her wretched old body!” said the young man fercely. “You cursed old hag how have you frightened this lady?” “How have § frightened her?’ re- peated Rizpeh, with an evil smile. “By unveiling the truth. It isan ugly thing to look at sometimes, though not as ug- lyas a false heart, that is bought by ill- gotten gold—not as ugly as a fickle mind. that turns, like the wethercock, to every passing wind. Ha, ha! I have shown her the truth. Let her profit by it in time!” And still shaking her hand with a threatening gesture at the pair, old Riz; pah disappeared among the forest shadows. “Who is she? What did she say to you?’ asked Fenton, indignantly. “My darling, my darling, I am hete to tect you now; do not tremble so; but ' what did she say to you?” “Oh, [ don’t know—I don’t know!” an- swored Fannie, hysterically, “Every- 7 thing that was cruel and dreadfdi. Ob, Fenton, if it should be true—if it should, indeed, be true! If poverty and disgrace should, indeed, be before me?” “Absurd!” answered Fenton ,cheeri- ly. “Poverty and disgrace before you! Why, the old witch must be as mad as a March hare; she can’t even know the tricks of her trade. Poverty and dis- grace before you, my beautiful queen of hearts—you, whose pathway is gild- ed by the brightest sunshine of fortune —you, who already have a worshipper at your feet who wou!d count life a paltry sacrifice in your service! Fan- nie. Fannie, if you would only believe in the depth, the fervor, the fidelity of mv love! If you would only listen to me seriously, darling, for I love you—I do love you from my very soul!’ The shadow on Fannie’s swet face made it serious enough now. “You love me, Fenton? Ah. yes, per- haps you think so now; but if trouble, sorrow should come upon me; if I were no longer gay, and bright, and happy, would you love me then, Fenton? You have often told me that you turned to me like the flower to the sun. But if the sun were darkened, Fenton?” “Do you think so poorly of my heart’s deepest love, Fannie, as to suppose any- thing could change me?” was the re- proachful answer. “Why, my own aweet little love. I would welcome, aye, gladly, the storm that would send you to my arn s, to my heart for shelter and suppert! You do not know what a man’s love is, dear ,or you would not wound me by such a thought, such a suspicion. But, alas for me! your for- tune is so sure, your home so happy, your life so blessed, that I cannot make it brighter by my love. I can only plead, and, I fear, plead in vain.” “Not in vain,” said Fannie, softly slipping her little hand into his—‘not in vain. dear Fenton. I thought that— that we were only playing lovers. Un- til this morning, I did not know the value of a true and faithful heart. If you do love me truly, Fenton, [ will love you. and—be true to you forever!” “My darling—my own sweet love— bless you for those words!’ was the reputurous reply. “True to you, Fan- nie! Darling, you are my own sweet love. forever and forever. You are my own sweet love forever and forever!” Even with his words, a sharp report rang out through the forest—the pistol shot that had laid Sybil Wraye at her lover's feet. (TO be Continued.y Wave of Prosperity. Hnror. and, in fact. every town in Beadle county. as well as the farming distric s being “touched” with the prospe) wave. Incoming trains on the Northwestern and Great Northern daily bring to the vicinity of Huron new settlers, and while all do ant lo- eate here or within the borders of this county, a good share of them step and are fast filling up the vacant farm; houses or are building new residences. In Huron not a vacant house is: to be seen; places vacant for several years are filled, and rooms over’ stores are occupied by families. Thera-are no idle men; everybody is employed' at: good wages. Carpenters and builders, me- elrani of every kind, have no difti- eulty in finding employment: ‘The same condition prevails in the countr; some farmers report difficulty ii ob- taining help for seeding and’ general farm work. Some building is goimg- on in the city, but the bulk of the work is in remodeling and rearranging houses. Some new residences will be put up. H. ©. Hinckley will put up a large: house on the corner of Third and Illi- neis streets; it will be the largest and most expensive residence in that’ part of the ¢i The Masonic, Workmen and Woodmen organizations contem- plate the erection of a building for so- ciety use the present season, The Hu- rom Manufacturing company now-occu: vies its new building. and are busy making Williams’ potato planters, 2 device recently patented by Mr. Will: jams of this city, which is attracting attention in every part of the North- west. The company will not be able to Keep pace with the demand if their Dusiness continues as at preset, and the eapacity of the plant will’ be: in- ereased. While there is no reat boom, Huron and the surrounding country is eoming in for a large share of Gew set- tlers, and those locating there are of a desirable class, thrifty, energetic and substantial; just the class of people to make good citizens and develop a new eountry. Real estate transfers in town and country are very numerous, andjat fair figures. Seasonable. “The Isis” contains some neat verses. to the up-to-date spring, of which the following two verses will show the true poetic ferver: ‘The “spring's soft breath” the snow- drop breathes and gasps; Awakes from sleep the little lascivi- ous. snail; The crocus opes his golden heart and Clasps a lump of hail. The primrose, technically known, as. rathe; Pricks tentatively up her sallow ear; A marrow-curdling wind confirms our Faith that spring is here. It reminds: one of Horace Walpole's terse remark: “Summer has set in witk its usual severity:’—Londex Globe. j Litthe Teazers,. Here is a little exercise im punctua- tion that a meormal school yaung woman recently brought home to puzzle her father:, , It is not and I said but or. “Looks a little confused, doesn’t it? Simple, thongh. Gann A few quotation tharks and two com- mas will fix it all right. For mstance: “It is not ‘and,’ I said, “but ‘or. ” Here is a still sinypler catch that may bother you some: “All 0.* > Not mueh in it, perhaps, but enough to make it troublesome. {Loo hard? And yet it’s “Nothing after all.”"~- Cleveland Plain Dealer. Unreason, She seemed inclined to doubt the in- tensity of his love. “But I fairly burn!’ he protested. | —— Bales anny, I convince you that I mn?” “Quit smoking!” said the beaut! ‘wretch, with cold intonation. ‘ All this painfully reminds us yet again how very unreasonable a woman can be.—Detroit Jourral, gees Due Cantion. Oltver—If you refuse me, my heart Will be bruised. Gertrude—If you wake pa, Olly, row will be bruised all over.—Chicago Ree- ord. ¥ , Few College Students Die. The death rate in colleges is extreme ly low. The strict attention to the physique is given as the reason. Oth- ers, as well, may have health and strength. Hostetter’s Stomach Bitters is recommended most highly for the blood. nerves and stomach disorders, and it eures constipation, indigestion, dyspepsia, sluggish liver or weak kid- heys. The sugar dealer is one man whe needn’t fear failure because he lacks grit. Cures Talk ~ Great Fame of a Creat Medicine Won by Actual Merit. , The fame of Hood’s Sarsaparilla has been won by the good it has done to those who were suffering from disease, Its cures have excited wonder and admiration. It has caused thousands to rejoice in the enjoy- ment of good health, and it will do you the same good it has done others, It will ex- pel from your blood all impurities; will give you a good appetite and make you strong and vigorous. It is just the medi- cine to help you now, when your system is in need of a tonic and invigorator: Scrofula—“ I had scrofula sores-ail over my back and face. I took Hood's-Sarsapa- ritla, used Hood’s Medicated Soap and, Hood’s Olive Ointment, and was cured.” Orso B. Moore, Mount Hope, Wis: Hood’s Sarsaparilia Is America's Greatest Medicine. durable, Put up in dry pow- dered form, in five-pound pack~ i ages, with ‘full directions, fi H | LABASTINE ts the original and only durable wall coating, entirely different from all kal- somines. Ready for use in white or fourteen beautifub ~ tints by adding cold water. ‘ADIES naturally prefer ADA, BASTINE for walls and ceil- ings, because it is pure, clean, LL kalsomines are cheap, tem- , porary preparations made from whiting, chalks, clays, ete., and stuck on walls with de- caying animal glue. ALABAS- TINE is not a kalsomine. EWARP of the dealer who says he can sell you the “same thing” as ALABASTINE or “something just as good.” He $s either not posted or is try= ing to deceive you. ND IN OFFERING something he has bougnt cheap and tries to sell on ALABASTINE'S de- mands, he may not realize ths damage you will suffer py kalsomine on your wails. ENSIBLE dealers will not buy’ a@ lawsuit. Dealers risk one by selling and consumers by using infringement. Alabastine Co. @wn right to make wall coat- S ing to mix with cold water. TE INTERIOR. WALLS of Y every church and school should De coated only with pure, dur- able ALABASTINE. It safe- . guards health. Hundreds of toms used yearly for this work. IS BUYING ALABASTINE, eustomers should avoid get- ting cheap kalsomines under different names. Insist on having our goods in packages and properly labeled. WISANCE of wall paver ts ob- vieted by ALABASTINE. It cam be used on plastered wails, wood ceilings, brick or can- E vas, A child can brush it on. Tt does not rub or scale off. -ABLISHED in favor. Shum on imitations. Ask paint Geal- er or ceipeit yen! ie ae Write us for interesting. _ let, free. ALABASTINE CO. Gand Rapids, Mich. i UT! NEZ For your family’s comfort and your owa. HIRES Rootbeer \ wilt contribute moze to it than tons of ice and a gross of fans, gallons for 25 cents. > for labels. CHARLES E. HIRES CO. ‘Malvern, Pa. $s'a SbO SOS WwW tose ; Wowie otporneskee tg IN 3 OR 4 YEARS ¢ N INDEPENDENCE ASSURED \aMicted with, sore “wes, use,