Grand Rapids Herald-Review Newspaper, July 21, 1900, Page 2

i 4 owt ft ote MR eo + v aed eoe00 Cr Under a Spell. e009 eee CHAPTER XXXVIII. (Continued. ou seen her lately’—Fenton his tawny mustache, re- flectivel) ‘annie—Miss _ Clive, 1 mean? Have you seen her?’ “Oh, de r’ answered Miss Mari- an, quick couldn’t call, under the ¢ ces; it would be so em- ba ing. What could one say?’ s: »’ said Fenton, throwing the frzgments of Fannie’s little note, one by one, into the fire. “What could It would be embarrassing. nd you say they have left the Towers? I would not have time to a but there is a little packet I would like to—ahem!—to send to Fan- nie—to Miss Clive, I mean—if you would take charge of it.” And Fenton Forest, as he spoke, nmered and hesitated in a way very foreign to his usual brazen self-possession, and looked as a man might look who felt himself a cur OL the lowest degree. will haye to excuse said Miss Marian, me, Lieue with a wouldn't do in such a delicate matter. Send the packet to Dr. Bond; he appears to have constituted himself a champion of these unhappy Clives. For my part, I think the greatest kindness we can do them is to let them drop entirely. Laurence has some quixotic views up- on holding on to friends in distress; but, as I told him last night, distress and disgr astly different in their meaning Perhaps the unhappy Clives felt the truth of, their words, as, that same evening, they turned away from the proud home that had sheltered their childhood, and journeyed to the hum- ble little co that Herbert had procured in a ving little village a few miles to the north, , Dr. Bond had encouraged the young man in lis proud determination to ac- cept nothing from the wealthy kins- man who was coming now as master of the Towe and through this same true friend’s influence Herbert had obtained a position in a large manu- facturing house in the village of P—. He seemed to have but one thought. Self was lost sight of completely in his careful solicitude for the gentle sis- ter now dependent upon his exertions —the er whose tender heart was bleeding from so many wound and who, like some tenderly-nourished plant suddenly bereft of every other prop, clung to him for support and. protection. But there was one other watching -~eyer her pathway—plucking from it each thorn that he could reach, smoothing it as far as was in his pow- er, brightening it by friendly words and cheering smiles—another, whose kindly interest in her welfare Fannie had learned to look upon as almost a right, so unceasing had been Laurence G efforts to aid his friends in their hour of adve He it was who had sought out and selected their future home; 1 beau- tified it with a thousand little trifiés of which Hérberf, absorbed in care and sorrow, world ve never dreamed; had twined the ivy over the little win- chosen the pretty pictures to on the whitewashed walls; brought Fannie’s pet bird from the de- serted cor at Clive Towers, and Herb hed books from his own corner in the library. It was Laurence who had been here, there and everywh -the patient, cheerful, mever-tiring, thful friend, always tender with a word of hope, a deed of help or a smile of cheer. It was Laurence who, in his favorite sailor costume (he had come up the river in his yacht), met the brother and sister at the door of the quaint little one-storied cottage, and was the first to welcome them to their humble home. No one could tell how his strong, brave heart was aching with tender- and sympathy for the graceful girl, who, pale and sorrowful in her deep mourning rebes, had never to his eyes looked so beautiful and womanly. “It is very poor, darling,” said Her- bert, leading her into the little parlor, wk the bright sunlight streamed through curtains of Laurence’s choos- ing upon a nty supper table that Laurence himself had spread; “but Laurence and I have done our best. Won't you try to be happy even here? We ve only each other to live for now—only each other and the kind friends whose fidelity adversity could not shake. Let us be happy in each other.” Fannie looked around her at the snowy walls hung with her favorite pictures; at the little book case filled with her favorite books; at her bird singing in its gilded cage; on the ivy- veiled windows and the flower stand, glowing with the beautiful blossoms that erst had been her especial pride. Then her eyes filled with tears, not of sorrow, but of gladness, and, hiding ther face on Herbert’s breast, she held out her hand to the faithful friend at his side. “You have been so kind, so good to me,”’ she whispered, “dear brother and —dear friend! I feel as if I could be happy here.” That evening, when Laurence had feft them, and the brother and sister stood together by their cheerful little fireside, Herbert handed her the pack- et that Fenton had sent. Her face flushed as she broke the seal, then suddenly grew hard and scornful as she saw the contents. Her own letters, full of girlhood’s trem- ‘bling hopes and fears, bright with the play of happy fancy, tender with the ihalf-awakened sentiments of the wo- man heart——her own letters, written to Fenton Forest in her hours of joy and sorrow, gladness and grief; a long, silky lock of brown hair, and a golden locket, framing a merry, girlish, flow- er-wreathed face—that of the roguish Wavuy of old—that was all the packet Secret Her Heart’s By JEAN WARNER. \evaraamanaaaal held—the packet sent back to her with- out word or sign, by the man who, with ardent vows and passionate en- treaties) had won her warm, youDg heart. Had he, indeed, won it? For a mo- ment the girl looked at the fragments of her first love-dream with glittering eyes and heaving breast; then, with a proud gesture, she swept all into the flames leaping and crackling on the hearth before her. “It is what I might have known— what I might have expected,’ she said, in a hard, dry voice. “Thank God—aye, thank God—who has saved me frem my own foolish, heart!” “The scoundrel! the villain!” ut- tered Herbert, between his clenched teeth. “By heaven, he shall answer to | me for this! Does he think my arm is palsied—my hand is tied?” But the young man’s passionate out- burst was stopped by a kiss—a kiss, aye, and from rosy, smiling lips, that had no quiver of pain. “He is not worth an angry word, dear brother—he is not worth a re- gretful thought. I was too foolish then to know the gold from the gild- ing. Dear brother, you and—and Lau- rence have taught me wisdom since. Why should I mourn for that which fire can destroy? The pure gold, triply proved in the crucible, is still mine own.” She pointed to the glowing hearth before her.. The letters, tress, minia- ture, all were ashes; but in the flames the little locket showed itself—a mass of pure, molten gold, shaped like a rug- ged heart. And Fannie smiled. A memory stirred within her breast that made her heart a prophesy—the true gold was all her own. a CHAPTER XXXIX. At Last. “Well, they’ve come,” said Dr. Bond, alighting at the door of Ivy Cottag and grasping Herbert's hand warmly. r. and Miss Clive ived at the Towers last night.” “Miss C ” vepeated Herbert, in | some surprise. “Yes. I didn’t mention that Basil | Clive had a daughter,” said the doctor, dryly. “He bas, though, and a very eharming young lady she is. I’ve been acting as mediator, my boy,”’ he con- tinued, clapping Herbert’s shoulder, | heartily; “and I think I've succeeded admirably. Tt foand ,Mr. il Clive | disposed to be very liberal—very liber- al, indeed. He don’t care to live at the Tewers—in fact, he don’t care to live in America at all, and we came to -2 conclusion last night, that will save your father’s credit, leave his name untarnished, and put you in lawful possession of your old home a BHT You must marry that pretty cousin of | yours, my boy. She’s young, lovely, rich and the legal heiress of Clive Towers, and she has heard enough of you to dispose her very favorably to your suit. You must marry Miss Clive.” “Impossible, sir!’ said Herbert, his face flushing indignant]. “Surely it | is not Dr. Bond who ad me to sell heart and soul?” “God bless my soul!’ exclaimed the doctor, “you don’t mean to say, my dear fellow, that you. would be fool enough to refuse? Why, it’s the only way to settle matters. Don’t stand in your own light, my boy—don’t let any & | is day foolish, romantic id weigh against the substantial realities of fortune and | fame. Think of your father’s honor redeemed, your own name saved from disgrace, your sister's future secured! Don’t be a fool, my boy. Marry the girl, and hush up everything!” “Never!” -said Herbert, firmly. “1 wili marry none but the woman of my heart——the wife of my choice! No) worldly adyantage could make me false to the sweet memory I cherish in my heart of hearts—no fame or for- tune could make me _ forget Sybil Wraye. Let my kinsman keep what is rightfuly his; I ask nothing from him. Fannie and I are willing to brave whatever Fate may have jn store for us, secure to our honest purpose to do | justice and right. We ask no favor, no compromise—’ “You're a fool, sir!’ interrupted the doctor, testily, rubbing his nose—“a big fool, and your sister is another! I’ve done my best for you, and now I wash my hands of the whole business. I thought you’d be sensible enough to ‘see the advantage of this connection, and I told Mr. Clive so, They've lived in foreign countries long enough te | have no squeamish scruples on the subject of matrimonial arrangements, and we talked the matter over like sensible people. But I’ve done with the business; you'll have to go and see him yourself, and tell him you'll have nothing from him—neither his friendship nor his fortune. Go, fling his kindness back in his teeth, and turn your back on your own good luck —go, for I won’t do it for you! He ex- pects you and your sister at the Tow- ers this evening, and, in common civil- ity, you'll have to go.’’ “My dear doctor,” said Herbert, much grieved at the seeming resent- ment of his tried friend, “I cannot tell Aas how I regret displeasing you, ut “Don't say anything more about it,” answered the doctor, grufily. “You've got your ideas, and I’ve got mine. I can’t knock against a stone wall and not feel it. Let Fannie come down with me, and you can take your own time. I want her pretty face to keep me in temper. Get your bonnet, my dear, and come and ride home with the old man. You're not stubborn enough to refuse to know a pretty cousin. Come along, I’ve got a pleas- ant surprise for you. As for that brother of yours,’”’ the doctor got into his buggy with a queer smile hovering around his lips and a twinkle in his eye, “I’ve done with him, He can manage his own affairs with Mr. and Miss Clive—manage them alone.” It was late that afternoon before Herbert found time to comply with his new, kinsman’s request, and visit him at Clive ‘Towers. A bitter and painful visit it must prove, our hero thought, as he alighted at the little station, and proceeded slowly along the path through the stately groves he once had thought his own, It was a beautiful evening. Winter was already beginning to yield before the approaching spring. The river, shimmering with a thousand opal hues, flung back the glory of the sun- set; the western hills were tipped with rose and gold; the evening air had lost its piercing chill, and seemed balmy with the breath of unseen flow- ers; all nature was suggestive of the beautiful season that was stealing, blossom-trowned, over the silent, sleeping earth—the season of hope and promise—the virgin sprirg. But Herbert walked on slowly and sadly; the sweet influences around him brought no gladness to his heart. He came, a stranger to the roof of his fathers, an exile to the home of his birth, a penniless, disgraced man to the presence of his kinsman whom his father had wronged and defrauded— the kinsman whese liberality he was too proud to accept. How the doctor’s words stung him! He sue for the haughty heiress of Clive Towers! He purchase fame ant fortune at the price of honor and heart! He redeem his father’s name by a base, mercenary, loveless mar- riage! He, with Sybil Wraye’s sweet image still enshrined in his heart of hearts, to woo, win and wed another, Sybil—his own Sybil! Ah, she need not fear disgracing his proud name now! It was humbled already in the dust. Would Sybil pity him” now? would she love him still? He paused for a moment at the thought. He was at Sunset Hill, the spot endeared to him by the memory of that first inter- view, when love, bursting all bonds, had leaped to his lins—when his heart had first spcken, and Sybil had heard and wept. He climbed to the summit of the hill to look around him; to imprint the beautiful landscape forever in his heart; to carry away with him that | memcry as the last and sweetest, of his broken home, his blighted youth! Did he cream? A form stood upon Sunset Rock—a woman’s form, robed in misty gray, and illumined with the last rosy hues of the sunset; a form veiled with floating clouds of golden hair; a graceful, lovely form, that turned at his approach, and revealed to him the beautiful features of his dream-love—Sybil Wraye! “Sybil, Sybil! My darling, my dar- ling!” he cried, forgetting poverty, dis- grace, all things save the rapture of this meeting, “you here? Surely, this is cnly some vision sent te mock my despair! “No vision, my beloved,” she said, holeing out her hands to him with a beautiful smile. “Visions are done with now, dear Herbert, for the shad- ows have fled, the night is passel—it sunshiny day. At last—at last, Herbert,” she looked up into his face with beaming eyes—‘‘at last we meet beyond the sha@ow—at last we can | speak of hope and—and” she blushed at the whisper—“love!” 4 “My own love!” he murmured, in a moved voice, “I understand you. Alas I can offer you nothing now bu blighted life, a tarnished name, poverty and disgrace. I have nothing left. Sybil—not even honor!” “You have your own true heart. Ah! I have heard all!” she said, simply. “Dear Herbert, let me come to you in your sorrow, let me share your pover- ty, if need be, your disgrace. I would love you as you have loved me, threugh all, in spite of all! The bar- rier between us is broken now—I am all your own!” “Sybil, beloved one, is this true, or only a dream, a beautiful dream? Darling, Carling! will you be the star of my darkness? Will you come to me—poor, disgraced and wretched as I am—will you be the wife of one whose only wealth is love for you? Oh, my love, it will only be for your sake, | then, that I ean regret the past! I could almost welcome the shadow that | draws you to my heart—my own, my own!” : “Hello, young man!” said a cheery voice behind them, and Dr. Bond, with a tall, dark-browed man at his side, suddenly appeared on the,scene. “You appear to have changed you mind on the subject we were discussing a few hours since. I thought you would bring him to reason, my dear, though it was only this morning he was ready to knock me down for proposing he should even look at you. You look be- wildered, my dear boy,” continued the good doctor, whose old face was fair- ly beaming with happiness. “Let me introduce you to your new relatives. Mr. Basil Clive, this is the young gen- tleman who is fool enough in these lat- ter days to hold honesty above honor, who knows only one road, and that goes straight ahead, whether it be down a precipice.” “Or up an Alpine peak,” said Col. Laponte of St. Gothard, grasping his young rescuer’s hand warmly, “I need no introduction to Mr. Herbert Clive. Our acquaintanze was made on the borders of a valley whose darkness makes even ene as reckless as I have been look up for light. I have more than life to thank you for,” he contin- ued, in a moved tone. “A fire that burned with unchanging heat for five-, and-twenty years was quenched for- ever beneath those Alpine snows. In your father’s name, my young kins- man, let us forget and forgive the past, and let this”—and he took Sybil’s snowy hand in his and laid it gently within Herbert’s—“let this, the most precious gift that Basil Clive can be- stow, be the pledge of forgiveness and the seal of peace.” £ “Is anotber introduction necessary?” asked the doctor, surveying the young pair with whimsical gravity. “No,” said Herbert, drawing the weeping, trembling, yet radiant, Sybil to his heart. “Under all shapes, and forms, and names, love is 8til] the same, and gratefully, as the woman of my love, the wife of my heart, the one be- ing on earth who could hold me bound by chains that all the strength of my 1 take your gift, sir, proudly |" manhood could not break.” . “The spell is broken, Herbert,” whispered Sybil, archly. “My power is gone, now the ‘magic dower’ is all your own.” ‘i : - “Not a bit of it,” said the doctor, shaking his hind. “Don't lay that flat- tering unction to your soul, my boy. She is just beginning her rule. You ‘have been a married man, Mr. Clive, and can tell these young people that a woman never fairly begins to. govern until she has promised to obey. You have got him, my dear, and hold him until death, as every true wife holds her husband to the last—‘under a spell!”’ It was a happy evening that fol- lowed at Clive ‘’owers—bappy for Ba- sil Clive, whose triumph was poisoned by no drop of bitterness, for he had gained the greater triumph over self— fiappy for the good old doctor, who, with the picture of his lost love resting on his still warm heart, went: about from one to the other, rubbing his hands at the joyful reunion of his friends and her children. Happy! Aye, with a rew, shy, won- drous happiness for Fannie, who had disappeared in the conservatory, early in the evening with Laurence Grey, and had emerged with such glowing cheeks and sparkling eyes that Sybil had kissed her, and whispered, out of her own full heart, a glad congratula- tion, Happy! Ah, bappiest of all for Her- bert, as, with the one love of his life clinging to his arm, with her sweer face upturned to his, and her beautifm eyes fearlessly revealing her pure soul, she removed the veil from the past, and showed him all the sorrow, the heart-break, the despair that had stood like a grim barrier betwen her and the sunshine. “Yet you loved me through all?” he whispered. “Tell me once more, dar- ling, you loved me through all.” “From the moment you spoke to me at Sunset Hill,” she murmured. “Dar ling, I could not have lived through the dark night that followed but for the memory of those worés of yours, that have echoed in my heart ever since— ‘The star of hope and love shines above us, and will ight our pathway yet” See, dear Herbert, it beams above us now.” They leoked above, and, in the dark- plue heaven, its pale, pure radiance seemed to light love onward to its true and fitting home beyond the stars! The End. CARRYING THEIR CARTRIDGES, For This Purpose the Boers Use a Receptacle Called a Bandolier in Their Native Tongue. The ordinary Boer method of carry- ing cartridges, as is well known, is in a bandolier, either fitted for single cartridges or, in the case of the. Mau- ser, to hold clips of five. The former system has been widely adopted al- ly by our troops. But the plan for quick-loading and the perfection of a eartridg tier must be awarded to the waistcoats which were in use by the better class of Boers. These are made of kha and supplied with twenty-four pockets in several rows, closely touching one another, and each containing a clip full of five Mauser cartridges. This waistcoat has only to be seen for its advantages to be in. stant] ppreciated. The weight is evenly distributed, the cartridges are easily got at and not liable to be lost, and, lastly, the whole surface of the closely-packed cartridges forms a pro. tective shield over the heart and lungs by no means to be despised, for, al- though not proof against a direct hit, it wovld probably turn many a bullet striking at an angle—Saturday Re- view. Judge Kept His Word. The prisoner was making his ap- pearance before the magistrate for the hundredth time. Z “Well,” id the magistrate, “here yeu are again?” “Yes, your honor,” replied the pris- ener. “What's the charge?” “Vagrancy—the same as before, your honor.” “It seems to me you are here abou halt your time.” “Yes, about that, your honor.” “Well, what do you do it for? con't you work?” “I do, your honor, more than half the time.” “Ah, now,” said the magistrate, sur- prised, “if you can tell me where you have ever worked I'll let you off.” “In prison, your honor,” answered the prisoner, brazenly, and the judge kept his w Why Crossing the Famous Bowery. People seldom walk across the Bow- ery nowadays. As a general thing, they put aside their dignity and run from curb to curb in zig-zag fashion, dodging under the nose of a horse. darting across the bows of a car, mak- ing a flying leap across the gutter and landing on the opposite sidewalk breathless but safe. As the middle of the street is taken up by four trolley tracks, the irucks and wagons are crowded toward either curb, and it takes a pedestrian with good nerves to make his way across without being forced into a run. A reporter riding down the Bowery in a car the other morning saw ninety persons cross the thorovghfare in six viocks. Of these ninety, seventy ran fair speed, while the ren:aining twen- ty walked as fast as their dignity would permit._New York Mail and xpress. eile A dei G8 2 Girl’s Essay on Boy: At a recent school examination for girls, this osition was handed ir by a girl of twelve: i “The boy is not an animal, yet they can be heard ito a considerable dis- tance. When 4% boy hollers he opens his big mouth like frogs, but girls hold their tongue til they are spoken to, and then they answer respectable and tell just how it was. A boy thinks himself clever \because he can wade where the water is deep. When the boy grows up le is called a -husband, and then he out nights, but widow and k oe all those little ded the major, “duels ce. that large scar was particularly fierce is where I was vac VICTIMS OF FLOOD NUMBER OF DEAD MAY NEVER BE .., IKNOWN. ; Yt Bae Pt RR oy e The Tex., Caused Eleven Deaths That Are Known and It Is Believed That Several Campers Were Caught in the Valley Below and Swept Away —Hundreds of People Are Searching for Bodies — Several Rivers and Creeks on the Ram- Disaster at Coleman, page. ' ’ a - Coleman, Tex., July 18.—The number of dead caused by Monday’s cloudburst may neyer be known. BHleyen people are known to have perished in the rush of waters, and it is believed that several campers in the valley below Coleman were caught in the flood and swept away. It is almost certain that others have been drowned, and for miles along the creeks below the town hundreds of people are engaged in a search for bodies. The rivers and creeks around Coleman have been on a rampage for several days owing tc excessively heavy rains. \ Early Monday morning Hoard’s creek began rising rapidly and several houses were caught in the flood and swept away. Seven miles north of Coleman sixteen inches of rain fell in less than an hour’s time, Mr. Cheek and his wife were visitors from Milan equnty, Tex. Eight of the flood vic- tims were buried yesterday. The town has suffered severe property damage and business is temporarily suspended. The floods and storms have caused a disastrous overflow of the Medina and Guaé@aloupe rivers, doing great damage to crops. Samuel Bell, son of a prom- inent citizen of San Antonio, who was with a fishing party on the Medina riv- er, was drowned. RIOUS JAPS. Three Hundred of Them Pot Five Hundred Chinese to Flight. Vancouver, B. C., July 18.—A desper- ate fight took place last night at the fishing town of Stevenson, on the Frazer river, between 800 Japanese There is a big fishermen strike at Stevenson involving 7,000 Japanese and white men and 3,000 Chinese, and the Japanese and Chinese were idle. A street row between 2 Jap and a Chinaman occurred over a dispute as to whether or not a Jap- anese army of 10,000 men could whip Chinese army of 100,000 men in the present war. The Jap cut off the Chinaman's queue to emphasize his ar- guiment, and in a few minutes 300 Ji:panese engaged in a hand-to-hand fight with 500 Chinese. The small pesse of policemen was powerless to interfere, and thousands of white fish- ermen watched the fun. In twenty minutes the Japanese had broken so many Chinese noses and cut off so ats Chinese queues that the Chinese ed. and Chinese. HAWAIIAN COURTS, Naturalizing Old Residents the First Business Taken Up. Chicago, July 18—A special to the Record from Honolulu July 9, says: The commissions for all the territorial judges arrived by the steamship Aus- tralia, and the territorial courts are now fully organized. The first busi- ness to come before them was a large number of naturalization cases. Those seeking naturalization are all men who have lived here from five to thir. ty year E. Faxon Bishop has been commissioned by a number of planta- tions to proceed to Porto Rico to en- list plantation laborers there among the plantation laborers of that island. The project of importing negro labor or labor in which there is an admix: ture of negro blood, is meeting with very much popular opposition, but the planters seemed determined to make an experiment with it. WANTS TO GO TO CHINA, Gen. Wood Hopes for a Command— Arrives to Discuss Cuban Matters. New York, July 18—Gen. Leonard Wood and family arrived here from Havana yesterday. Gen. Wood will proceed at once to Washington. When seen at quarantine be said: “I have not been called home to consult about the removal of troops from Cuba to China, but to talk over general mat- ters in relation to my post in Cuba. I would like, however, to go to China. T do not know that I will be selected for a command, but I want to go.” Eseape From Jail. Owatonna, Minn., July 18. — Anton Penus, who was confined in the city jail, made his escape by digging a hole through a solid three-layer brick wall with a stove poker. Bonus was not confined in a cell, and thus had ample opportunity to work. No clew has been found as yet. Excursionists Get a Ducking. Lake Geneva, Wis., July 18. — One hundred excursionists from Haryard, Ill.. were precipitated into, the lake last evening while standing on the steamer landing which collapsed from over- weight. All were rescued and few in- jured. . Fire at Rowan, Rowan, Iowa, July 18.—George W. Ballow’s dwelling house was burned here. The loss is estimated at about $600; insurance, $150 on dwelling and $100 on contents. It is thought it caught fire from a defective chimney. Believed to Be Insane. Stacyville, Iowa, July 18—Wliam Buckley was taken into custody and taken to Osage to have a medical ex- amination for insanity, as he is sup- posed to be mentally deranged. Charged With Cruelty. Le Sueur, Minn., July 18—William Kast was arrested for cruelty to ani- mals. He hired a livery from Budke & Klanke to go to St. Peter and drove ta New Ulm, Both horses died on the trip. Worry Causes Death. Davenport,’ Iowa, July 18—John B. Phelps, a prominent lumberman, died of apoplexy, attributed to worry over the fate of relatives in Peking who pce laa of Minister Conger and At the Delivery Small Girl—Will you give me the book my sister wants? Librarian—But what book is it? Small Girl—Oh, I dov’t know. But she wants it very much. Librarian (at a yventure)—Is it “To Have and to Hold?” i Small Girl—Yes; that’s jt—all I could think of was “If you get it, keep it”"— Library. The Trust Problem To a thoughtful mind is one of serious import, for it creeps upon society be- fore you are aware of its existence, in this respect much resembling the vari- ous disorders which attack the stom- ach, such as constipation, indigestion and dyspepsia. Hostetter’s Stomach Bitters is the one reliable remedy for all svch ailments. A Substitute. “Don’t you miss your husband terrt- bly?’ asked the young wife of her neighbor whose lord and master only mane down to Wave Crest over Sun- ay. “No, indeed,” said the older matron. “At breakfast I just stand a newspa- per nup in his place, and I quite forget that he isn’t there.”—New York Com- mercial Adverti Are You Using Allen’s Foot-Ease? It is the only cure for Swollen, Smarting, Burniag, Sweating Feet, Corns and Bunions. Ask for Allen’s Foot-Ease, a powder to be shaken into the shoes. At all Druggists and Shoe Stores, 25c. Sample sent FREE. Ad- dress Allen 8, Olmsted, LeRoy, N. Y. Reporter Sent In the Wrong Card. An official of the supreme court was puzzled by a card sent in to him by a desperate newspaper man Monday, April 30, when the arguments on the Kentucky government case began. The court room was full of sightseers, and the overflow extended in a long line down the corridor. The reporter tried to get in ahead of the line, and was stopped. He protested. “Shall these rubbernecks be let in to moropolize the supreme court room when I—I, a newspaper man, ordered to report the case, am kept out?” he exclaimed. “Them’s orders,” said the ancient colored man at the door. Off rushed the reporter to the court marshal’s office. He yanked out his wallet, and, seeing a card in it, wrote on the back: “My editor orders me to report the Kentucky case to-day. ‘Must he ‘ad- mitted: can’t wait for the crowd.” In a moment the answer came back, and his card with it No room.” The reporter looked at the card he had sent in and blushed. He had by mistake, given the attendant not his own, but the card of a manager of & troupe of ballet and variety perform- ers.—Washington Letter. Some articles must be described. White’s Yucatan needs no description; it’s the real thing. An Historical Remark. “Now, boys,” said the teacher to the juvenile class in history, “who can tell me what Gen.» Washington said to his Neutenant while crossing the Delaware amid the floating ice?” “IT can,” replied a youngster at the foot of the class. “Well, Tommy, what did he say?” queried the teacher. “He said ‘How'd you like to be the ice man?” replied the incorrigible Tommy.—Trained Motherhood. Kind of Her. May—The girls were all crazy to know whether you were engaged. Marion—But you didn’t tell them, did you? May—Oh, no. Isaid that when the time cawe you wanted to announce it yourself.—Detroit Free Press. A first-class watchmaker gets credit for his good works. Some’ fools seem too soft to do a foolhardy thing. e Pinkham Record Is a proud and peerless record. It is a record of cure, of constant con- quest over obstinate ilis of women; ills that deal out despair; suffering that many women think fs woman’s natural heri- tage; disorders and dis-. placements that drive out hope. ‘ cures these troubles of women, and robs men- No woman need he with- out the safest and surest advice, for Mrs. Pinkham counsels women free of charge. Her address is Lynn, Mass. : @an any woman afford the advice that has cured a mililan women? ¥oresrea’ wet Thompson’s Eye Water. N. W. N. OU —No. 29. 1900. wy