Grand Rapids Herald-Review Newspaper, May 26, 1900, Page 6

Speke Fore ooo Or Under a Spell. eoeo0°¢ CHAPTER XX—(Continued.) “Your daughter! Is this lady your daughter?’ asked the doctor, in sur- prise. “Who is she, then? Who are you?” “One nameless, homeless, friendless,” was the despairing reply—‘‘one whose tife wrong has blighted and treachery darkened, until it has but one hope, ene light, one blessing left. Oh, my darling, my ling, the one ‘treasure left me in this cruel world—save her for me. doctor! Oh, save her, or I will roam this darkened earth a madman, indeed! Save her! You have said there was hope. “Hope? Yes. ”” answered the doctor, whose heart w stirred with strange sympathy for th wild, erring being, “there is hope; but it lies not in the skill of man. I can do nothing here snatch and wait. The hour of mid- night, . will decide your daughter's fate. Then the life-tide will ebb or dow.” CHAPTER XXI. Watching the Tide. Dr. Bond had watched by many sic ‘beds, and thought that he had wit- messed human suffering in all its D : but the vigil of that night was such as he had never kept before. ‘The dark stone cavern, with its silver Jamp: the awful stillness, broken by no sound from the upper earth, the gold- aired girl, so white, and frail, and so out of keeping with all her rude surroundings; and the two com- panious of the wateh—all seemed to unite in forming a scene more like 2 picture from some German master than the sober reality of common life. The wretched father sat at the bed- ‘side. with stern, set features and foid- ed arms, watching every faint breath that came from Sybil’s pallid. lips. The doctor kept his post opposite, while R 1 glided, like a shadow, noiselessly and swiftly through the oom, anticipating every want. Even the old doctor's herb tea was not forgotten by this strange creature. She had concocted it after a recipe of her own. that the old gentleman was forced to acknowledge had merits far exceeding any of the draughts in his macopoeia, for its effects were il. It seemed to diffuse new life gor through his stiff and feeble 8 ade him forget the unusu- al toil and weariness of the day. A thousand vague conjectures flitted through the doctor's mind as he gazed at the lovely face of the so-called Sybil Wraye, and from it to the dark, stormy countenance of the man who watched beside her. Who were they? Whence were they? these two’ mysteri- ous beings who seemed separated by some strange fatality from their kind. What was this shadow that rested so darkly upon this young girl’s opening life? What was the wrong that had nature? and had blighted this man’s noble What was the link between them the haughty Clives? What hate armed this passionate man ag Herbert. whose frank, open, hon! character the doctor knew so well? It was impossible to tell, and the doc- ‘tor could only look around him in won- der at the strangesfatality that had led ‘him again to this fair girl's pillow—the girl whose featufes were stamped with sthe likeness of the only woman he had ever loved. The hours wore on, their passage only marked by the ticking of the doc- 's watch, that sounded ominously tinct in the silence of the subter- a chamber. Rizpah without, in the shadowy forest, watching the stars; the doctor was alone with Sybil and her father. She lay still, white and silent as a mar- ue. There was no movement b or feature to show that life l—only the faint breathing y stirred the lace upon her ‘bre: The doctor lo at his watch: the hour of midnight was at hand. He bent closer to the couch. He dared not, by word or look, break ne spell by which the passionate man ‘beside him controlled his strong heart; he dared not tell Sybil’s father that the s had come. There was surely a quiver in the sunny eyelid; a longer, more fluttering breath: a gasp, 2 strug- q@ie! Great heavens! the dark-browed watcher started up with a moan of an- guish, that changed into a low cry of delight, as Sybil opened her eyes and faintly whispered: “Father!” “My child, my darling, Svbil!” The doctor turned away from the bedside. with eyes dim with unusual moisture. The rapture of that moment was too deep, too sacred, for even his friendly eye. The crisis was passed gafcly; the life-tide freely flowed. “Where am I?’ asked Sybil, after a moment's pause. “Havé I been dream- {ng, father, of— of sickness—of pain? There. there is blood upon ‘blood! W hose blood, father—whose The doctor interposed. There was an excited quiver in her voice, that made him fear an imprudent revela- fion. “You were hurt, my dear, while you were out riding this morning,” he said, gently; “that is all. You have beea unconscious for some time, but are better now; only I insist upon your keeping quiet—perfectiy quiet.” “What does it mean?” she said, elasping her father’s hand—“oh, papa, ‘what does it mean? Why is he here— ‘here? Alas, alas, I have betrayed you ‘betrayed you, after all!” ‘ot so, my dear,” answered the doc- ‘tor. in a tone that was intended to re- sassure both father and daughter. “Do not fear me. I am here as a physi- -eian. and a physician is bound to hold ‘inviolate the confidence reposed in him ‘by his patients under any and all cir- cumstances. You have nothing to fear from me.” “You are very good,” said Sybil, with hat graterul glance in her soft eyes my own on Secret Her Heart’s By JEAN WARNER. te avaaaaaaaaal that went straight through the crusts of five-and-forty years to the old. man’s deepest heart. “Ah, papa, yes, we can trust him. He means us no harm.” “No harm can touch me while you are safe, my treasure—my darling—ny own loved child! was the deep-toned murmur that reached the doctor's ears. “Only live, my darling! Live for your wretched father’s sake—live to bless his blighted life. with your love—and— | he—he—aye, darling, this night has | taught him a fearful lesson—he will strive to live only for your love—your happiness. We wil! go , far from this cursed spot. We will go away to another land, and live only for each other!” . “Only for each other!’ she echoed, clasping his hand to her breast, with a wan smile. “Take me away—far, far | away—papa, where we can live only for each othe “My darling—my own!’ whispered her father, forgetful of all things save his rapture and his remorse. “Oh, for- give me, Sybil! Alas, my madness had well-nigh blighted my one sweet flow- er forever! My reckless hand had well-nigh crushed what I would gladly e died to save! Sybil, Sybil, say you forgive me!” Very clear solemn came the an- swer, how full of meaning the doctor- only vaguely guessed: “I forgive you, my dear papa. All that—that has hurt me so much, I for- give you.” Alas. alas! gravely and sadly in- deed, might rbil speak that pardon. Deeper and Geadlier: than eye could see was the wound in that gentle br t, The snowy flesh might heal, the rude scar close, And all seem well again; but within—deep within—the woman's heart would bleed forever and forever, from a wound that only One could pity, One touch could heal The gray twilight wa y ing into dawn when the doctor left the Witche's “Cave. Sybil was sleeping sweetly now, and during her slumber her father had opened his softened heart. to the friend who had come to him as a friend in the hour of his greatest need. Dr. Bond knew all now, and that knowledge had only given him feelings of warm, almost tender, sympathy for the reckless, wayward man, whom Fate and Providence had thrown so strargely in his way. He had attempted at first, by friend- ly argument, to combat opinions and prejudices that he knew were unreas- onable; but he found this impetuous being had been too long the sport of own fierce passions to lend an ear son or judgment now. “Tl have to go away—as far away as ible—was Basil Clive’s answer tu 2 y argument. “I could not trust myself here. The fiend of hate and re- verge and hate is too strong within me. The place is hers, sir—hers by birth. hers by justice, hers by law, if we could only get the proof—the proof that I firmly believe Robert Clive holds in his robber grasp. Clive Towers be- longs of right to my child!” The doctor listened gravely. At six- ty we do not readily open our hearts either to faith or hope. Sybil—his Sybil—the mother of this man who stood beside him? Sybil Lee the wife of Basil Clive? The deserted, neglected—n: discwned wife? How his blood boiled at the thought of her children wandering naméless and friendless; ing like criminals in their father’s land; burying themselves in the caverns of the earth, maddenea by Wrongs and desperate from injust- ice: In the secret depths of his heart the doctor felt that the claim of Basil Clive might be just. He had never liked the master of Clive Towers; there had always been an inexplicable bar- rier between them, which it seemed as if neither cared to cross. For years and vears Robert Clive had faced the world. cased in the f{mpenetrable arm- or of universal distrust. If this story be true—as it must be true, for the fierce, passionate words of Basil Clive left no room for doubt— if this story were indeed true, ana Sybil’s child the rightful owner of Clive Towers, should not he, the friend and lover of old, uphold that child’s claim, in spite of all the world? Aye, he would, he must! But mean- while, there was no Lroof—no proof. Robert Clive, proud, strong and haughty, stood in a pcesition that none could assail—his uncle’s rightful and acknowledged heir. watch and wait. It would be wiser and better far that this hot-headed, impetuous Basil were leagues away. se “I think you are right,” answered the doctor. as he grasped the hand of Syb- il's son, and looked into his dark ,flash- ing eyes with paternal kindness, sighec to think how different both lives might have been if this rash, misguided be- ing had been his child. It is better that you should go away with Sybil as soon as she is able to be moved, which They could only was the stern, determined reply. “Let them believe her dead, as henceforth she will be dead to them forever! Aye, forever!” he continued, his dark face growing darker with passionate re- solve. “Five-and-twenty years ago I swore a feaful oath, on my father's corpse—swore it in the hearing of the traitor who then and there refused me the justice that was my father’s dying legacy to me and mine! I swore un- dying enmity to Robert Clive and all his race! I swore that while a drop of my blood flowed in living veins, that blood would boil with fiery hate to him and his! I swore never to relent. never to condone, never to forgive! And yesterday—yesterday”—the man’s yoicé grew husky—‘was it a wonder that I turned madman at the sight? I saw his son looking with a lover's eyes into my daughter's face; whisper- ing to her with lover’s accents; plead- ing with her—with my child, my Sybil, my one treasure—pleading for the sweet young heart that is:‘mine—mine alone! Was it not enough to rob me of my father’s name, my father’s lands, my father's inheritance, that now the cursed Clives should grasp at my only treasure, my one ewe lamb—my child?” “Papa, papa!’ a feeble voice called faintly from within. “But she—she is mine still—mine still!” continued the passionate being, fiercely. “Aye, and I will keep her mine until the man comes to her whom I can freely,willingly give her. I will forswear justice, vengeance—all things —to keep my dauzhter mine! Aye, sir! though every drop of blood in these veins would be poured out gladly for my Sybil’s sake, I would rather sce her lying at my feet, white and still, and lifeless, as I saw her to-day—l would rather know that my own rash hand had struck her death-blow, than see her happy, blest and, honored, as the wife of Herbert Clive: My hate is too deep, too lasting, for aught but death to quench!” ; “Pupa, papa!” again came the feeble accents frem within, low and piteous as the wail of a suffering babe. “T come, I come! Remember!” Basil Clive wrung the doctor’s hand in his powerful grasp. “Silence, silence; it is all Task. T have trusted you, Do not betray us. Let us shake off the dust of this accursed spot. and turn our backs upon it forever,forever! Let us be dead—dead and forgotten—in the land that we cannot call our own. Good-by! Remember—silence!” CHAPTER XXII. Seeds of Discord. Tkree days had elapsed since Sybil’s loss, and still the well-nigh hopeless search went on. Only for her remains, or for some trace of her burial place—for it was the general conclusion now that the shot had proved fatal, and the af- frigkted murderer had concealed the body and fled ere the pursuit had well begun. The intricate mazes of Clive Forest, the hundreds of by-paths leading to the river, made immediate escape both practicable and easy; and young Mr. Clive’s horror at the awful deed had for the first few monients so paralyzed his powers that he could only with dif- culty recall the exact circumstances under which the murder had occurred. He had heard the shot; he had been blinded by the fiash; then had seen Sybii lying bleeding from a_ breast wound beneath her horse’s feet; had lifted her to a neighboring bank, and, finding her severely, if not fatally, in- jured, had rushed to give the alarm, and scek for the help which he thought so near. When he returned to the spot on which he had left her she was gone, It was all he knew—all the informa- tion the most curious cross-questioner could elicit; and, though all sorts of wild rumors were current in the neigh- borhood, none could be traced to any reliable source. Dr. Bond had been in bed for the last three days with a severe attack of rheumatism. brought on, as he in- formed inquirers, by his “infernal folly in spending ten hours in Clive Forest on a wild goose chase.” He was so irritable and testy on the subject that his visitors found it wisest to Avoid as much as possible any ailu- sion to it; for Sybil had been a favor- ite patient of the old doctor's, and it was one of his peculiarities to speak of nothing that reached his he Mr. Clive was concerned in his state- ly way—exceedingly concerned. The yourg lady was in his house, under his protection, and that was_ sufficient cause in itself for his indignation and anxiety, laying aside any warmer in- terest he might have in his daughter's friend. So /Mr. Clive had astute detectives sent from the city, and the mysterious affair was discussed with all due sol- emnity in his library. The doors were closed. the curtains drawn, and Herbert, over whose pale, haggard face a score of years seemed to have passed, was called upon again to go through the whole account. whose repetition made his heart-strings bleed and quiver. The flash, the shot, the fall, and the inexplicable disappearance of the wounded girl, all were retold, briefly and clearly, while Mr. Quirk nodded, smiled and interposed various ques- tions and suggestions, and his confrere, Mr. Quinn,sat silently by the table stroking his wiry beard. Mr. Quirk talked a great deal, going round and round his subject by all manner of impossible suppositions and conjectures—striking it suddenly by a well-aimed question, rebounding in a different direction, and making bril- iant sallies on another point. Mr. Quirk was, in fact, such @ will not be under a fortnight. It will be better for her, better for you, better for everyone. Meanwhile remember that you leave a friend behind you who —who for many reasons has your in- terests truly at heart—a friend who, like the warder of some stormy coast, is watching for the turn of the tide. And if you need means—that little girl has stolen her way into a heart that I thought sealed forever—if, for her sake you would accept—” “No, no!” answered Basil, auickly— no help. Thank you very much, sir— very much! I have money in plenty, to go or stay where I will. I only ask you to keep my secret, to let me get her away from this cursed spot in peace!” “But they—they family at the Tow- ers—will be anxious about your daugh- ther,” said the doctor, perplexed at the difficulties of his position. “Would it not be well to let them know she is safe?” ‘ * “Let them know nothing of her!” charming conversationalist that people were very apt to lose sight of his part- ner entirely and forget the quiet Mr. Quinn, whose’keen gray eyes and keen- er ‘ears were following every turn of the head and change of the voice and movement of the body, gleaning, up swiftly and silently the grains that his brilliant companion scattered and passed by. So it was quite a matter of surprise to Mr. Clive when the gentleman by the table suddenly lifted his eyes from an apparently abstracted study of the tiled hearth and asked. “if the young lady’s family had taken any steps in the matter.” It was a rather embarrassing thing to acknowledge that they had not; that. in fact, nothing was known of Miss Wraye’s family; that the honored guest of the haughty Clives was, s0- cially speaking, a nonentity. It was still more embarrassing when —Mr, Quinn directly pressing the mat- ter—it became necessary to state hov’ and under what circumstances the ac- quaiptance with Miss Wraye had been formed—how inauspicious had been Madam Fleury’s account of her pupil's position in school and society. Further inquiries from Mr. Quinn elicited information regarding Sybil’s manner of Jate—her nervousness, anxi- etv sudden alarms. Herbert would have died rather than have revealed her warning to him. Those interviews, when sudden gusts of feeling seemed to sweep away for a moment the veil concealing her troub led heart, he held too sacred to even speak of now. He could only chafe with mingled in- dignation‘and impatience as he saw the astute detective’s inquiries were all tending to one point; as he felt that evry word he said orly went to prove that Sybil herself knew and feared the impending danger; that this cruel trag- edy was but the culmination of some a: secret history veiled in Sybil's past. Herbert’s face flushed angrily, and he listened, with set teeth and clenched hands: he could say nothing—nothing that would not tend to throw upon his darling’s memory a shadow of deeper mystery than that which rested on it nov Sybii an adveturess? Aye, that was what they were sayin as_ they rose to go; and his father was listen- ing, with the stern, hard look on his face that made him so like old Basil Chive. His daughter—the daughter of his be- loved Agnes—allowed to associate inti- mately with a nameless, homeless ad- venturess! “I have heard of so many cases of & like nature,” said Mr. Quinn, his keen, gray eyes resting on Herbert’s face— “clever girls, who, to secure a brilliant alliance, contrive to establish them- selves on the most friendly footing in the best of families—worming them- selves into their confidence by every art and fascination.” “You are mistaken, sir!” Herbert burst forth, unable any longer to re- strain his indignation—“utterly mistak- en. Whatever Mis Wraye’s family or position may have been, she was a lady in every sense of the word—nay, what is better than a lady, a true, pure, noble woman! And to assure you that no ignoble motive influenced her visit to Clive Towers, I can bring my sister to prove that she came only in compli- ance with her eager, earnest and re- peated entreaties—that she came to us as an honored guest. And I, at least, consider it my place to repel any tion against her character or po- sition as an insult to one whom, as a guest in my father’s house, I feel bound to defend!” “Humph!” muttered Quinn, drily. “I thought as much. I have to con- gratulate you, Mr. Clive,” he added, in an undertone, to the elder gentle-, man. “If I mistake not, the young lady had well-nigh gained her end. Your guest would soon have had a daughter's place.” “Never!” exclaimed Robert Clive. his brow darkening ominously. “We will let the matter drop here, gentlemen; it has gone far enough. All further in- quiries as to Miss Wraye's fate can be made by her family or friends, if she has any. It is an affair that’ reflects no credit on any one concerned in it, and one in which I much prefer that the members of my family should cease to take any active interest.” “Let me understand you, sir,’ said Herbert, turning from the window as the two legal gentlemen drove away, and showing his father a face white and rigid—aye, and stern as his own. “Do you mean that you intend to take no further steps in this matter—to leave this poor, friendless girl un- avenged in her bloody grave—to be deaf to the ery of outraged justice?” “I have submitted the case to the proper authorities,” answered his father, briefly. ‘It is their place to at- tend to it: neither yours nor mine.” “Neither yours nor mine!" echoed the son, indignantly. “For Gcd’s sake, sir, what change has come over you? Only this morning you acknowledged that you felt, in a measure, responsible for this young girl’s fate—that, as our guest, she was under our protection.” “This morning I was blind,” was the curt reply; “now my eyes have been opened. This morning I believed my son knew better what was due to him- self and due to me than to degrade himself by an attachment that I could never recognize—” “Stop, sir!’ interrupted Herbert, im- petucusly. “Not even from you will I hear a woud against her sweet mem- ory—a memory that I will hold sacred as long.as life shall last—a memory that I place beside that of my sainted mother, and feel I place it worthily there.” “Be silent, sir!’ thundered Robert Clive. “Let me never hear your moth- er’s name breathed in such association. Your mother! Boy, you know not what she was, or your lips would never dare to shape her name with that of a friendless, homeless outcast—a_ girl who, for aught we know, may have sprung from the very dregs of society, a girl who—” “Be careful what you say, sir!” inter- rupted Herbert, white with passion. “There are insults which even a son caunot forgive. The lady of whom you speak was as dear, as precious, aS hon- ored in my heart, as my mother is in yours.” “Was she your wife, sir?” asked Rob- ert Clive, hoarsely. “I am prepared to learn even that, now. Was this nane- less girl your wife?” “Would to God that she had been!” said the young man, in an agitatea voice. “Then there would have beea one, at least, left, with the right to de- fend her memory by word and deed. No, sir; she was not my wife, though I would gladly and proudly have claimed her before God and man. She herself refused me, over and over again—aye, sir, strange as it may Seem to yeu, this nameless girl rejected even the honorable suit of a Clive!” | “Tt is well for you that she did so— very well,” was the father’s stern re- joinder, though the cloud upon his prow brightened perceptibly. “A dis- graceful alliance is the one offense that my indulgence could never overlook. It is my wish that we let this subject drop bere—drop forever. It is one that is exceedingly disagreeable to me—one that I never wish broached again be- tween us—since it has made the first breach between father and son.” (TO be Continued.) i a ines iy That women make such a fuss over a baby? : of KILLED IN “A MINE) Asi Beir oe MANY LIVES LOST AS THE RESULT OF AN EXPLOSION. Terrible Disaster in the Coal Mines at Cumnock, Va.—One Report Places the Number of Killed at Thirty, and Another Says the Cas- ualties Were Between Fifty, and Sixty—All Telegraph Offices Were | Closed for the Night and Confirm- ation of the Report Could Not Be Obtained. Richmond, Va., May 23. — A report arrived here after midnight from‘ Greensboro that a disaster bas oc- curred in the coal mines at Cummock. An explosion occurred some t dur- ing ike night and it is said that thirty miners have been killed. The Cum- nock mines are located near the San- ford, Greensboro & Mount Airy. rail- way, which is a branch of the South- The road runs from Sanford to Mount Airy by way of Greensboro. Cunnock is fifty miles.from Greens- boro and the mines are located several miles off the railroad on 2 read which is owned and operated by the com- pany controlling the mines. All the telegraph offices on the road closed at 8 o'clock last night and ro further de- tails can be obtained. -0- Asheville, N. C., May 23.—It is re- ported ‘here that an explosion occurred at Cumnock miles, near Charlotte, last night. ‘The news came that between 50 and 60 miners were killed, but this is not ecnfirmed. It is hardly possibie that the report can be verified before morning as the telegraph offices are closed. OUTRAGED AND MURDERED. Young Girl Found With Her Throat Cut and Her Head Mashed. Chillicothe, Ohio, May 23. — Ethel Long, aged thirteen, daughter of Steph- en Long, who lives on a farm near Austin, this county, was found at a spring near her home, her throat cut from ear to ear and her head mashed. She had been outraged about 3 o'clock in the afternoon. A colored man has been arrested on suspicion. Deputy Sheriff James Dévine found evidence and blood stains on bis clothes. An attempted lynching was prevented by Commissioner John Ott at Frankfort. isoner is lodged in the county FICTITIOUS FORTUNES, No Great Unclaimed Estates or Bank Deposits in England. Washington May 23. — The depart- ment of state warns the public against the swindling advertisements and oth- er publications of schemers relating to pretended estates in England and cau- tions the people against remitting money in view of such advertisements to any strangers under any cirenm- stances. Upon inquiry at the depart- ment it is learned that there are no great estates unclaimed in England. It is also said at the department that there are no large deposits awaiting claimants in the Bank of England. CLARK’S OREDENTIALS, Action Postponed Until Wednesday, the 30th Inst. Washington, May 23.—An agreement was reached yesterday between the friends of Senator Clark of Montana and the senate committee on privileges and elections to postpone any action upon the senator's -credentials until Wednesday, the 30th inst. In the meentime the credentials of Mr. Ma- ginnis will be presented and the papers in both cases will be considered to- gether. LEX HEINZE SUBSTITUTE. German Reichstag Passes a Supple- mental Penal Code. Berlin, May 23.—The reichstag, by a unanimous vote, removed the Lex Heinze from the order of the day and “subsequently passed in its entirety threugh all the three readings an an- alogous proposal. presented by Count Alfred von Hoempesch-Rurich, amend- ing and supplementing the penal code, The Social Democrats and the Radi- cals voted in the minority. ATE POISONED CANDY. Virginia Earle. Actress, Has Narrow Escape From Death. New York, May 23.—Virginia Earle, an actress with the Casino company, had a narrow escape from death by poisoning. She ate a piece of candy. from a box handed her by a messenger boy at the stage door and became very ill. There is no clue to the sender of the candy. ‘ Machinist Killed. Chicago, May 23.—John McGovern, a machinist, was killed and. William Philean severely injured yesterday by the collapse of a platform used in con- structing a condenser for the ice plant of the Cooke Brewing company, The men were buried beneath the debris of the platform and a heavy iron tank was crushed. ‘They May Force Him, Indianapolis, May 23. — It is under- stood that the Democratic attorneys are preparing a suit of mandamus against Gov. Mount to compel him to honor the requisition of Gov. Beck- ham of Kentucky for ex-Secretary of State Beckham. - Wireless Telegraphy 0. K. Victoria, B. C., May 23. — Japanese advices report that the naval experi- ments in wireless telegraphy in connec- tion with the recent maneuvers were highly successful. Summer Resort Burned. Montreal, May 23.—The village of Pontetlair, about fifteen miles from. here. was almost wiped out by fire. No less of life is reported. Ponteclair is a fashionable summer resort on the banks of the St. Lawrence. — f - Has Very Many Stamps. A Los Angeles, Cal., May 23. — Postal Inspector Flint of this district goes to Honolulu June 1 with 50,000 stamps to inaugurate a United States ane in the islands, beginning June =s aca oe ‘| ing your letter Not Even a Minority. Tellit-lThe objection was unani- mous.—Baltimore American. Curiosity Saves Life. A package marked quinine was sent to a woman, but, being curious, she took it to a druggist, who said it was arsenic. like inquiry into some ot the medicines offered will certainly d2- tect the false from the true. For halt a century Hostetter’s Stomach Bitters has been curing indigestion, constipa- tion and dyspepsia. For Lese Majeste. Private Secretary—Your raajesty, the audience dox’t want “The Iron Tootb.” The Kaiser—Have it pulled.—New York Press. How Much ; You Eat Is not the question, but, how much you di- gest, because food does good only when it is digested and assimilated, taken up by the blood and made into muscle, nerve, bone and tissue. Hood’s Sarsaparilla re- stores to the stomach its powers of diges- tion. Then appetite is natural and healthy, ‘Then dyspepsia is gone, and strength, elas- ticity and endurance return. Stomach Troubie—“ My mother had a very bad stomach trouble. She weighed only 111 pounds. After taking four bottles of Hood’s Sarsaparilla she weighed 136 pounds. She took it again after the grip and one bottle got her up.” Miss Otis McCoy, 528 Lafayette Ave., Lebanon, Ind. _ Hood’s Sarsaparilia Is America’s Greatest Blood Medicine, Henrd in a Balloon. J. M. Bacon, the Englishman who, with his daughter, made a lofty Dlioon ascent to observe the meteor shower last November, tells some interestiag things about the sounds that reached their ears. At a height of 5,000 feet the ringing of hors: feet on a hard read csuld be hea At 4,000 feet the splashing sound made by ducks in a pond was audible. The barking of dogs and the crowing of cocks could be heard at 7,000 or 8,000 feet. These sounds penetrated through a white floor of cloud which hid the earth from sight. In the perfeet si- lenee of the air around the’ balloon they were startled by what seemed stealthy foatsteps close at hand. Investigation showed that the sound was caused by the st tretching of the ropes and the yielding of the silk as the balloon continued te expand.— Youth's Companion. He Understood the Business. First Beggar—Why didn’t you tackle that dy? She might have givea you something. Second Beggar—I let her go because I understand my business better than you do. I never ask a woman for any- thing when she is alone; but when two women are together you can get money from both, because each one is afraid the other will think ber stingy if she refusi Collier’s Weekly. A Useless Adjunct. what has become of your poodle?” “Why, Harry made‘the dealer take him back; he didn’t understand a word of our French.”—Detroit Free Press. 2 i As to Ingredients. Customer—Aren’t you afraid of this canned maple syrup? Dealer—No, I'm not; I setl the fact- ory’s New Orleans molasses they it of.—Indianapolis Journal. Under the Influence. She—Do you believe in hypnotism? He—In’ some cases. You for in stance, could make me do anything you wanted me to.—Somerville Jour- nal. Self-reliance and courage go a great way in human affairs. THE HEALTH OF YOUNG WOMEN Two of Them Helped by Mrs. Pinkham . —Read their Letters. “Dear Mrs. Prxkuam:—I am sixteen years old and am troubled with my monthly sickness. Itis very irregular, occurring only once in two or three months, and also very painful. I also suffer with cramps and once in a while, pain strikes me in the heart andI have drowsy headaches. If there isanything you ean do for me, I will gladly follow your advice.” e @ —Miss Marr - Gomes, Aptos, ‘Cal., July 31, 1898. I began the - use of your reme- dies, taking both /s. Lydia E. Pink- 7% ham’s Vegetable Com- pound and Blood Purifier. [am now regular every month and suffer no pain. Your medicine is the best that any suf- fering girl can take.”—Miss Mary Gomzs, Aptos, Cal., July 6, 1899. Nervous and Dizzy _ “Dear Mrs. Pivcuam :—I wish to express my thanks to you for the great benefit I have received from the use of Lydia E. Pinkham’s Vegetable Com- pound. I suffered constantly from ter- _rible sideache, had chills, was nervous and dizzy. I had tried different kinds of medicine but they all failed entirely. After taking three bottles of Vegetable Compound and three of Blood Purifier I amallright. [eannotthank youenough remedies have done for 4 4 ‘ | = } x} yee Re * . a 4 i m } 5