Grand Rapids Herald-Review Newspaper, May 19, 1900, Page 6

ee Her Heart’s Secret ooo Or Under a Spell. oooe i CHAPTER XVHL Missing. Ere Fannie had recovered from her fright Herbert burst through the un- dergrowth. His face was' death-like, and great beads of moisture stood out upon his brow. He strove to speak, but utterance seemed to fail him. He could only make a wild gesture toward the vil- lage, as he sank exhausted upon the rock behind him. a Great Heaven, Clive, what is It? asked Fenton, his own ruddy cheek ®lanching. “Are you hurt? That shot —where did it come from? Where is Miss Wraye?” “Quick—the doctor!” gasped Herbert, who seemed to rouse his sinking ener- ey at the name—“the doctor! She is wounded- 1] for aught I know! The shot struck h “Sybil!” shrieked Fannie. “Oh, heay- ybil wounded—dying? Ob, where “Hus said her brother, grasping her arm: don't shriek so, You will warn him—the fiend who did the deed— that we are near. Quick—the doctor, fenton! Ride for life or death! I—I” the young man’s voice broke hoarsely— “f cannot leave her for a moment. dare not move her; she is lying still where—where she fell.” “Let me with yo Fannie. sobbing hysteric be quiet. Oh, Sybil, Sybi who could wish to harm her?” “Hush d Herbert turning on her fiercely. “Girl, girl, you will madden— N Iam mad already! The shot that gentle heart was aimed at mic. She saved me by giving her own life for mine! She—HHush, hush! We are near the spot. Hush! The villain may be lurking around, even now, and we must not warn him. He shall not escape me, if there is justice in heaven end earth! With my own hands I will averge her innocent blood—with my and I will take a life for a life!” ert—brother!” exclaimed Fan- nie. with a new terror, as she saw the terrible change that had come over him. For Herbert Clive’s countenance was transformed by the storm of passions swelling in his breast. His dilated eyes seemed to flash with lurid fire, his nos- trils quivered—every feature was set in the stern rigidity of carven stone. It was one of those fearful moments of “white heat” that mould the wan forever and forever. They reached the spot, the grassy giade where Sybil had spoken her last words to Herbert—those words tbat would remain stamped on his memory while life should last. The two horses were grazing quietly near by; the shrubbery was trampled and broken. The grassy bank where Herbert had left Sybil still bore the im- gress of her fragile form; but—the ung man sprang forward, with an Jamation of dismay—Sybil was not there! Not there! though he had left her, fess than five minutes ago, with the elosed eves and the helpless limbs, the «well-nigh pulseless heart, of one al- ceady in the grasp of death. Not there! Age, escaped, even in death, from his care and his love! “My God! where is she?” exclaimed the young man. “T left her here, on this very bank. Her wound was bleeding, so I dared not move her further. Has she dragged herself into some neigh- Poring thicket, to die unseen?” “Qh, Sybil! Sybil!” cried poor Fan# as she flung herself from her horse. il, darling, where are you?” Herbert, in a brother!” said “I—I wil darling! Stay here!’ ss ‘hoarse whisper, laying his hand heavi- ly upon her arm. “I must go seareh for her! But, no, no—I forgot, you, too, are helpless. I cannot leave you until they come from the village.” “Don't think of it!’ sobbed generous ini¢ o—ge and find Sybil: poor, Sybil! Oh, brother, I loved her so—l foved her so!” “What was your love to mine?” was his anguished reply. “She had just spoken words—aye, just as she fell— evords that opened heaven to me! Oh, the villain, the accursed villain, who could blight a flower like her—a blos- om too pure and lovely for mortal bloom! Oh, heaven, to think that she died warning, saving me! Aye, aye’— the young man clenched his teeth to gether, as if to repress the eonvulsions fnto which his wrath would have be- trayed him—‘they have carried her off to die! The fiends, the villains, have carried ber off to die, where there will ‘be none to witness her death—none to ay she was foully, craelly, basely mur- dered. But I will find her, dead or a@ifve—I will find her, my darling, my Sybil, my martyred love!” “Where are they? Clive! Clive! where tt - Dr. Bond's voice that echoed through the woods; and in a moment Fenton Forest, Laurence Grey and the old doctor had jointed the brother and sister. “What the deuce is to pay?’ ex- elaimed the doctor, excitedly. “Where's the girl? Who's been shot? What the amischief is the matter, anyhow?” “She is gone; they have carried her off!" said Herbert “They must be hid- fmg¢ rear. Stay with my sister, doctor, and we will find her. Come, boys, quick—quick!” “Find who? The girl has been car- wied off? You talk like a fool, sir!” said the doctor. irately. “What cock-ana- ‘bull story is this? And what have 1 ‘been dragged away from my dinner fer? I will teach you young scape- «graces to play your practical jokes on sme! Who was it told me Sybil Wraye xwas shot?” : “Hush! hush!” said Fannie, laying ‘her hand gently on the irate old gentle- man’s sleeve, as Herbert, followed by his bewildered friends, dashed desper- ately into the forest, “Don’t you see the poor boy is nearly mad with grief? Ge don't know what he is saying’ or By JEAN WARNER. NR nnn nn : what he is doing. Sybil was riding with him, and some awful man, in ajm- ing at him, shot her.” “Shot her? Shot Sybil Wraye?’ said the old doctor, in a broken voice. “Aimed at him and shot her?” “Ke ; she tried to save him, and —and “Of course—of course; fool to the last, like every woman!” growled the doctor. nd they carried her off, he says. Who has carried her off? Why the deuce wasn’t she left here until I could attend to her? Where are those yeung madmen rushing off to now?” And the old docter, who was in that exciiable state of mird peculiar to ple- thoric old gentlemen who find them- selyes suddenly run out of their groove, and left at the mercies of rash, unre- flecting youth, seated himself on the moss-grown log beside him and began to mop his brow savagely. But Fannie’s composure had given way. She could explain no further. “O, Sybil! Sybil!’ she cried, flinging herself upon the grass and sobbing pit- eously. “I can’t believe it—I can’t be- lieve that she is dead! Oh, doctor, save her. ve her! You are so good and skillful. ‘e her—for I loved her so: I loved her so!” And to all the old doctor's questions expostulations Fannie only sobbed out the same pituful answer: “T loved her so—I loved her so!” Yor more than an hour the young men continued their ‘ch, and the im- patient old doctor left to chafe in helpless ignorance beside his sobbing charge. Then ,at last, Laurence Grey made his appearanee, and in a few brief words related to the old gentle- man all that he had gleaned from Her- bert of the strange and terrible circum- stances attendant on Sybil’s disappear- an “Very remarkable, indeed!’ said the doctor, incredulously. “She couldn't have been spirited into air, or swal- lewed up in the earth in less than five minutes. She could not have walked ard she could not have flown. She was carried off, sir—carried off by the misereant who didn’t want her death laid at his door, and if there's law in ithe land. the law shall find her! Take this child home. sir,” continued the doctor, rising. “She’s half-cracked, like ‘all the rest of the young women new- adays. They're all one-sided—they have all hearts and no heads, or all head and no heart. ‘ake her home, sir! I'll look for Miss Sybil Wr . I've got rheum- atism in my joints, and my limbs are not as nimble as they were forty years ago; but I know every rood of the ground here better than those who own It Go Leme, my dear; take a dose of valerizn and go to bed’’—the old doctor patted Fannie affectionately on the cheek—“go to bed, my dear! Old Harry Bond is starting out to find your friend, and he will find her if she is above the earth!” And, cutting 2 thick cane from a young hickory tree that grew near him, the doctor carefully depesited his sur- gical instruments in a hollow tree close by, glanced at a little Derringer he al- ys carried in his pocket, to see that it was safe, and with all the energy, if not the agility of five-and-twenty, com- menced the search for the missing girl. CHAPTER XIX. The Search. All threugh that summer day the search went on. It scemed utterly im- possible that Sybil could have been ecar- ried off without leaving some clue that might lead to her discovery; yet such was the case. The thickly-wooded acres that sur- rounded Clive Towers, though cleared and cultivated artistically in the imme- diate vicinity of the house, had been left, in the more distant portions of the estate. covered with primeval forest. Many had wondered at the lack of interest Robert Clive had shown of. late in improving his noble inheritance. Speculators had offered him tempting prices for the ground, that was now only a beautiful wild wood, yet he re- fused them all, giving no other reason than his preference to retain his un- cle’s estate intact. For old Basil Clive had seemed possessed of a mania for land-holding, and during his life had grasped at every acre in his vicinity, whether worthless or valuable. Hence it was that such wild spots as the “Haunted Hollow” and the “Witch- es’ Cave” had come into Robert Clive’s possession. One might roam for days through the great stretch of forest that formed the northern portion of Clive land. The woodman’s ax rarely ech. oed in these sylvan solitudes; the grand- old oaks raised their stately heads into the winter snows and summer sun- shine as royally as if the destroying hand of man had no power over their domain, and the huge grape vines that twined like giant serpents among their branches, lifted their tempting clus- ters far beyond the most adventurous reach. No road traversed this shadowy wild- erness; it wss only threaded by little footpaths that led, beneath sweeping boughs and interlacing limbs, to the river. Even Dr. Bond, with the memories of bygone hunts still fresh in his mind, when he had scoured Clive Forest for days together in search of game, was forced to confess that five-and-twenty years make great changes, even in the unspoiled face of nature. He turned and returned: went for- ward, as he thought, for hundreds of vards, only to find that the labyrinth- ine paths had led him back to the spot whence he had started. The landmarks of old were gone; the scarred oak had fallen; the Beacon Rock was overgrown by vines; the beaten path that had once served as a sort of highway through which the weekly Pesala pig lumbering prog- ress, was cl y a young planta- tion of oaks. i 1 After hours of hopeless wandering, the old doctor was forced to sink down upon a moss-grown rock that guarded a erystal spring, and as he refreshed himself by a draught of the ice-cold water, acknowledged that Nature and ‘Time together were too much for him. He didn’t know where he was, nor how-far he had been; he only felt that his limbs were sore and his strength gone, and that he had proved himself an old fool for nothing. “I don't see why I should concern myself about the girl, anyhow,” mut tered the doctor, as a sharp twinge of rheumatism struck his knee. “There's plenty of policemen in the neighbor- hood. whose business it is to look after robbers and murderers, without my taking the work in hand. Confound it, there must be some witchcraft about that girl! Her eyes have been haunt- ing me ever since the fitst time I saw her—those eyes that are so like—so like Sybil Lee’s!” “Who is it that speaks of Sybil Lec?” said a voice behind him that made the doctor spring to his feet, regardless of his fatigue and rheumatism. ‘Who is it that can look over a gulf of five-and- forty years, and still speak of Sybil Lee? Ah, Master Harry—Master Har- ry! if she had been wise enough to walk her way with you, things would have been different now!” “What the— Who are you?” gasped the doctor, almost startled into pro- fanity by the witch-like figure that met his gaze; for it was Rizpah who, leaning on her long stick, looked out upon him from the undergrowth. “Who amI? Ha, ha! You knew me well enough five-and-forty years ago, Master Harry, though I was younger and comelier than I am now. Do you remember the old African’s hut where you came with her to have. your for- tune read? Do you remember the old African’s daughter, to whom you threw a dollar for a wedding gift? Do you remember Rizpah?” “Rizpah? Rizpah? Good heavens!” exclaimed the doctor, in wonder; “the beautiful young mulatto whom she— my Sybil—used to teach?” “Aye, aye!” answered the old wo- “the beautiful young mulatto of five-and-forty years ago is the withered old witch of to-day! It is the way the world goes—the way the world goes! And if your Sybil had lived she would have, maybap, been as ugly. and withered, and weazened as old Rizpah is now. The dead only are ever young.” “Impossible!’? answered the doctor, with a shudder. “But, alas! I forget the changes that time can make in five- and-foriy-years—I forget what I am myself.” “You haven’t changed so much that these old eyes could not see Harry Bond in you still,” answered Rizpah, fixing her fierce gaze upon his face. “You haveh’t changed so much, Ma ter Harry. Unless your looks belie your heart. I can trust you still. If the thought of Sybil Lee is still fresh in your mind, if her memory is still green in you heart, follow me.” “Not unless I am a madman,” was the doctor's mental rejoinder, for the gleaming eyes and fierce words of the old creature warned him . she was crazed. “I’ve got myself deep enough in the mud now without wading fur- ther into the mire. At sixty-five we never lose our wits for more than a couple of hours at a time, and my s0- ber senses have come back to me with this twinge of rheumatism.” “No, my good Rizpah,”’ added the doctor, aloud. “I've gone far enough enough on a fool's errand this evening. I'm too old nowadays to travel on any romantic missions. If you've ever had the rheumatism, you'll help me, in pure pity, out of this confounded wilder- ness: for, unless I’m in bed within an hour. with a good drink of herb tea in my stomach, I'll be crippled for a week.” “Bah! Are you coward enough to fear pain?’ she asked, scornfully. “Look there’—she held out her long, thin hand. that was bent and drawn into a frightful claw. “Pain has griped my every sinew into shapes like that. and yet I scorn to let in conquer me, I can defy pain—I can defy weak- ness—I ean defy death, when they would bid me shrink from serving those dearer to me than wretched life. But I am’a woman! You—ha, ha! I forgot—you are only a man! There is no well-spring that can keep the heart of man fresh and green for five-2 forty years. It is only woman—weak woman—that can love and suffer—love and suffer while a sbred of the thins she worships remains to her—fove and suffer still!” “The old hag talks like a book,” mut- tered the doctor to himself. “I wonder what the deuce she is driving at? These half-stricken creatures .go_al- ways round and round the point. I’ve half a mind to follow her, and see where she will lead me. I’m in for the rheumatics anyhow, and a little extra folly can’t make me more of a fool. She can't take me into much trouble, at any rate, while I have this.” And the dector felt again for his pocket pistol, then added, aloud: “Go on, mother. I’ll follow you, since you put the old man on his mettie Lead me anywhere, so it’s outside of this confounded Cretan twist. where every path seems knotted up to bewild- er wandering Christians. Go on! I'll come as fast as these stiffening limbs will allow. Harry Bond’s heart may ‘be as fresh as it was five-and-forty years ago, but there’s no mental elixir that will keep one’s legs nimble. Go on! I'm coming, though—confound that toe!—it’s hard work!” ‘And, hobbling along, in no very good humor with himself or the world in general, the doctor followed the witch like form.of Rizpah, as it seemed to glide, with supernatural activity, through the trees. CHAPTER XX. Haunted Hollow. Rizpah went on for some time in si- Jence, putting aside the sweeping pranches and trailing vines that barred the path as though they were but cob- webs in her way. So swift and noiseless was her step that she seemed to flit, rather than walk, through the shadowy-green. vis- tas, that appeared to the doctor to stretch before and around her in end- less labyrinths. Indeed. more than once it occurred to him that this strange old creature was conducting him personally by an intricate way, so that it would be im- poasible for him to retrace his steps. ’ ‘ The shadows were lengthening per- ceptibly, and the sun was already far down in the west, when she paused, and, turning around, waited for him to reach her side. ‘They were on the brink of the Dre- cipitous ravine known as the Haunted Hollow, and, parting the undergrowth, that grew here rank and thiek, Rizpab dispiayed a steep, narrow path, that led down into the darkly-shadowed depths below. “Swear,” she said, holding her hand up toward the setting sun—‘swear you will not betray the secret I am going to reveal to you. Swear it by the mem- ory of Sybil Lee!” “My good woman, I never swear,” answered the doctor, calmly. He was beginning to suspect there might, after all, be method in Rizpah’s madness, and\he put himself mentally on guard. “If I can help you, or any one one that is in pain or peril, I am ready to do it. My business is with suffering, not with crime. The worst villain in the world would be safe in my hands, as long as he needed my services as a doctor.” She looked at him steadily for a mo- ment. as if striving to read his mean- ing. “Are you a friend of Robert Clive?” she asked him, abruptly. “I am neither friend nor foe to any man.” was the old doctor's character- istic answer. “I am bound by no ties of kinship or friendship. The world and I parted company more than forty years ago, and have never joined hands or hearts since.” “Enough,” said Rizpah, with her ghastly smile. “If you are not his friend. I can trust you. What you learn from me will only make you his foe. Come. I ask no further pledge—I only say to you that there is one in deadly peril who needs your skill.” She turned again, and proceeded swiftly, though more cautiously, down the path to the hollow. The doctor followed her as well as his stiffer limbs would permit, though the way was steep and difficult enough to have made him at any other time heartily anathematize his folly. But his interest now was thoroughly aroused. and he determined to follow this weird old creature, let her lead him where she might. At last they reached the bottom of the Hollow. through whose gloomy shadows a little stream brawled noisi- ly over its stony bed. The path was easier here, and Riz- pah seemed to glide through the long grass and rank weeds without bending a blade or twig. She still had the quick, elastic tread of the daughters of the forest; and the old doctor looked after her and won- dered, in spite of all his practical phil- osophy. if she was. indeed a creature of earth. or some of those eerie beings with wbom German legends people the shadowy solitude of forests like these. Now the little stream widened, and in the Geepest shadow was spanned by a rude bridge, consisting of one moss- grown log. With the caution of three-score, the doctor hesitated before trusting his feeble limbs to so frail a support; but Rizpah, turning around, held out her long, talen-like fingers to him. “Do not fear.” she said; “the log is strong and my-arm can balance both of us.” And, walking sideways over «the rough bridge, she guided the doctor safely and surely over; then, stooping down. before he was aware of her pur- pose, she slipped the log from its rest- ing place, and it fell heavily into the water. “Why have you done that?’ asked the doctor, quickly. “Do you mean to keep me a prisoner here?” “There are two roads to every door,” answered Rizpah, composedly; “but they are fools who leave the ways open and the gates unbarred, when a treasure lics within. Come, Harry Bond.” she added, in a gentler tone, “you are as safe here—aye, safer than you would be in the robber's castle that crowns yon hill. You are bunts- man enough to know that you have naught to fear from a wounded foe.” They had reached the entrance of the of the Witches’ Cave as she spoke, and pushing aside the deerskin mat that served to screen the rude doorway, the old woman led her companion into the hut where she had, some ten days be- fore. met Sybil. A few embers smouldered on the flat stone that served for a hearth; the huge stalactite flung its lurid gleam upon the strange abode. ‘There was no one visible, but a hoarse scund came from some hidden recess. as of a strong man struggling with grief that he could not entirely control. The expression of Rizpah’s face changed utterly as the sound reached her ear., A strange softness crept over her withered features, and her harsh voice turned itself almost into tender- ness as she whispered: > “My boy—my poor, poor boy! This day has made him again a child!” And motioning the doctor to follow her, quietly, Rizpah lifted another cur- tain that hung at the further. extremi- ty of the hut, and they entered a close, narrow. dark passage, that seemed to lead into the very bowels of the earth, and which was terminated by an iron door. This the old woman touched in 2 yery peculiar way, and it flew open noiselessly, revealing to her amazed compsnion a wide, vaulted apartment, furnished with a rude attempt at com- fort. A silver lamp swung from the ceil- ing, and its mellow luster revealed the bright Persian rug that concealed the ursightly earthen floor, the old-fash- ioned chairs and tables scattered around, a rack, with its choice array of fowling pieces, and last, though not least important of all—for it was the first sight that riveted the doctor's gaze—the low iron couch in the corner, on whose snowy pillows reclined a golden-haired head that he recognized at once. The lost one he had so vainly searched for was found at last. Hope- lessly, indeed, might Herbert Clive and his companions scour every nook and glen of Clive Forest, while the gem for which they sought was buried here. For a moment the cool, philosophical doctor was literally speechless with amazement. ‘Aye, it was Sybil, white and still as a broken lily—so white and still that the old man thought, at first, it was | the pallor and stillness of death. And, close beside her, with his face buried in the silken coverlet. “and his mighty form conyulsed in agories of stormy grief, knelt a dark-haired, dark-browed man. who, absorbed in his own 2n- guish, seemed neither to hear nor heed the newcomer’s approach, until Riz- pah, laying her hand gently on his shoulder, whispered: “Did [ not tell you I would bring him? The doctor is here.” “Here—the doctor here?’—and the wretched man sprang wildly to his feet. “Oh, then, there is hope, hope, hope! Tell me there is hope? She will —she must—she shall liye! My dar- ling one, my flower, my lily-bud! Great God! is your curse on me for ever and forever, that my hand, my mad. murderous hand—should lay her low? Look at her!” He caught the doctor’s arm, and drew him close to the couch. ‘Tell me, quick, quick! Is there hope? Quick—for longer sus- pense will madden me, ‘indeed! Tell me quickly; but yet, weigh your words wisely, for she is my all—my all!’ The doctor laid his hand upon the delicate wrist. bent his head to the gentle heart, listened gravely, thought fully ere he said: “She lives yet—she lives; and while there is life it is not for man to say there is‘no hope.” “Bless you for these words!” said this impetuous being, wringing the docter’s hand in his vice-like grip. “Bless you—bless you, a thousand times! Save her—only save her—and you shall call every dollar I have in the world your own! Nay, nay, though how can I weigh paltry gold with her sweet life? Save her, and I will be your serf, your bondsman, your slave, forever!” “How—where was she wounded?” asked the doctor, moved by this iz passioned appeal to unusual gent ness. “It was. of course, accidental “Accident? No, no! Curses on th murderous hand!” exclaimed the man, as he bared Sybil’s bosom, where the cruel blood-stains seemed to madden him beyond self-restraint. “The bullet was aimed at him—at the man I hated —at the man whose life stood between her and her rightful inheritance—at the heir of the spoiler, the traitor, Robert Clive. When I saw them to gether—he with all the world could give. and she, my darling, my bud. my plossom. with nothing, nothing but her pure young beauty—the demon within my stormy heart rese in all its fierce power. I aimed at him—at him. Is there a just God above us who made the shot recoil on her? Was it just to make me my daughter’s murderer?” (TO be Continued.) A TERRIBLE DISAPPOINTMENT, An Old Lawyer Tells of the Greatest Setback in His Legal Career. The legal lights were discussing dis- appointments with which they had met .and this is the story that one of them told: “The greatest disappointment that f ever met with happened at the begin- ning of my career. I was young at the time. and inclined to hold my parents responsible for this handicap, which was keeping me from the fame and glory which I thought was my due. “My bright, new shingle was some- what weatherbeaten, and my office desk had two holes worn in it by my “But come he did one day, charging into my office like a mad bull. Glar- ing at me and throwing down a roll of pills as large as my fist, he shouted: “‘T want to see Mr. Blank!’ “Tam Mr. Bla I said, edging up to the roll. “*Good Lord, sonny,” he roared, ‘I want to see your father, the lawyer!’ “‘Tam Mr. Blank, the lawyer,’ I an- swered, with all the dignity I could muster. Ob. Christmas!’ he yelled, as he seized his roll and put it in his pocket, “What have I been retained on? I asked, making a bluff at the roll. “He stared at me for a moment and then said: “‘See here, sonny, I've got an im- portant engagement to meet. I'll be Kk, back in an hour. “Here’s your retain- er. he added. throwing down a quar- ter. “But he never came back. I was looking at my picture the other day, taken about that time, and [ cannot say tha. I blame him.’—Detroit Free Press, Tall “Bike” Story. Somebody should make a collection of cycling yarns. They would certain- I~ outvie the very finest of fishing sto- ries. The latest I have heard recounts how a wheelman was riding in the neigl:borhood of Worcester after dark, when a brawny constable stopped him and demanded to know why he was riding without a light. Not a mo ment’s pause elapsed before the cy- clist framed his excuse: “See that bicycle?’ he said, pointing on ahead to the glimmer of a light in the read. “Well, that machine is my better half; it is a part of the ma- chine, you understand. I was riding tandem. when the parts became un- glued; my wife rode ahead, not know- ing what had happened: when I re- covered my senses she was out of shouting distance.” The constable was, is is said, still gasping when-the cyclist had got up to twelve miles an hour.—London Sketch. All About Patellas. There is a boy scholar in one of the down-town grammar schools who hss set his teachers wondering whether he is one of the unsophisticated students of the age or a real humorist. At a re- cent monthly examination, one of the questions of physiology the pupils were called upon to answer was: “What is the patella, or knee pan?” .The an- swer of the young innocent or joker |- was as follows: “The patellas, or knee pants is trousers which extend from the waist to the knee, and were worn by grown-up men during George Wash- ington’s administration. They are not worn by men at the present time ex- cept bicycle riders and men who play golf, but are only worn by small boys. Every boy is glad when he is o!d enough to take off his patellas or knee pants and go into long pants which ex- tend from the waist to the ankle.”— Philadelphia Record. i Just Her Luck. Elien—“Why didn’t you make con- versation with Mr. Sapley by trying to draw out his mind?” Helen—“I did, and, as usual, I drew a Dl ”—Philidelphia Bulletin. — How to Live Pencefully, Tho’ Married “My wife and I agreé perfectly about some things.” remarked Mr. Meekton, with a gentle smile. “Indeed!” “Yes. When anything is wrong, I take it for granted that it is my fault. And Henrietta always thinks so, too.” —Waskington Star. Proposed Alliance With England. If the United States and England shouid form an alliance there would be little chance for enemies to overcome us. When men and women keep up their health with Hostetter's Stomach Bitters. there is little chance of at- tacks from disease, as it steadies the Aeron and increases the appetite. Try t. Big End Foremost. “Has the committee got everything arranged for the political meeting?” “Yes: we have fixed it so that the crowd cheer half an hour and the band wili play an hour. That will leave the candidate just fifteen minutes for his speech.’’—Chicago Record. A Blood Trouble Is that tired feeling — blood lacks vitality and richness, and hence you fell like a lag- gard all day and can’t get rested at night. Hood’s Sarsaparilla will cure you because it will restore to the blood the qualities it needs to nourish, strengthen and sustain the muscles, nerves and organs of the body. It gives sweet, refreshing sleep and imparts new life and vigor to every function. Felt Tired—* In the spring I would have no appetite and would feel tired and with- out ambition. Took Hood’s Sarsaparilla in small doses, increasing as I grew stronger. That tired feeling left me and I felt better in every way.” W. E. Baker, Box 96, Milford, Ohio. Hood’s Sarsapariila Is the Best Medicine Money Can Buy. Pre- pared by C. I. Hood & Co., Lowell, Mass. Just a Little Drop. In the west of Ireland on a certain circuit, a judge went to doze dtr- ing the speeches of counsel. On one occasion ceunsel was ad- dressing him the subject of certain town commissioners’ rights to obtain water from certain river, water be- > at the time. speech he made use of lord, we must have waier— we must have water.” Whereupon the judge woke up, ex- claiming: “Well, just a little drop—just a drop! I like it strong.’’—Spare ments. A Foregoing Conclusion. “Do you think that messenger boy reach Kruger with the ad- asked the Englishman, with a ttempt at scorn. replied the American. “He'lt a= gallant “Sur get there plenty before Roberts react es Oom Paul with the queen’s me: sage.”—Philadelphia North American. A Working Basis. “J want: to marry your daughter,” said Foxey. “Have you spoken to her yet?” asked the father. ” replied the suitor. “You see, I went to get your refusal, so that 1 will have something to work on.”— Ptiladelphia North American. 520.00 A WEEK AND EXPENSES toagents: selling our housebold goods. Sell on sight. Write C. H. Marshall & Co., Chicago. Restful Stage Properties. *‘ “Belinda, what makes you so crazy about Oriental rugs and draperies?” “Why ,the dustier and dingier they get the more Oriental they look.’’—In- dianapolis Journal Mrs. Winsiow’s Soothing Syrap. For children teething, softens the gums, reduces fr dammation, allays cures Wiad Colic. 25¢ a Dottie Isn't It Strange. That women are not at ease unless they do carry a pocketbook? That women can tell the smallest detail of other women’s dres3? Tkat women learn a foreign lan- guage so much more readily than a man? ‘ That Women are so much more con- stant in their affections than men? “at women can smile so ser when knocking ten years off their a That women insist upon the foot ting the shoe, instead of the shoe tit- ting the foot?—Pittsburg Dispatch. Jubge Lynch has no sause what ever to be proud of his family tree. ‘There is every good reason why St. Jacobs Oil RHEUMATISM NEURALGIA LUMBAGO SCIATICA ‘for the rest of the century. One amount reason is—it does cure, ben) SURELY AND PROMPTLY