Grand Rapids Herald-Review Newspaper, June 29, 1901, Page 6

| + | cee NS IN THE WEB OF BY. LILLIAN GILLIN. oS SS CHAPTER, XXXV—(Continued.) “The drink had given me courage, and £ thought I'd go and ask him to ‘xape me in his service, for it was @ q@ood piace, miss, and he was a kind qmaster to the man as did his duty, I tole up to the window, when, peering fn, E found the room quite empty, and ently the open safe staring me in the face. “E was a poor man, miss, and to- morrow I might be homeless and pen- miless, for I had spent all of my wages “upon drink. I had not much time to ‘think it over, for, at any minute, he might come back. The temptation was ‘too great, miss, of all that pile of notes and bonds. “ ‘fell not even miss ‘em,’ the devil wafd to me, and in another moment ‘they were {n my hand; and I had made amy eccape. “£ crept back along in the shadow, cwhen some one passed me. It was young Mr. Talbot, miss. I watchee ‘him go into the library, and was slink- fmg away, when suddenly a hand fell ‘on my shoulder. “f thought as that was the devil, and @hure, miss, since that night I've known that I was not wrong, though it was Mr. Chester’s shape he’d taken. “You miserable thief!" he hissed in ‘my ear. ‘A nice term of years you'll ‘serve for this!’ “I fol! on my knees, then, miss, and eggei and begged for mercy. “T'li spare ye, on one condition,’ he maid; ‘that ye put the crime on the man who followed ye into the library, and that ye obey me in all that I tell ye to do.” “What could I do but obey him, miss? While I was thinking on it, my teeth hattering in my head, some one ran spast me. “There's yer man!’ cried Mr. Devil. ‘Seize hold of him; I'll bring other help. “We'tl drag him back to the house. De- Mver up your booty, and swear that you saw him throw {tt away from him.’ “Well, miss, it takes long to tell ye, but it did not take long for him to. qmake me understand. Ye know the west, Miss Beatrice, and how the miser- able plot was hatched. I’m in your ‘power, now, miss, but I kinder feel a Yoad ts lifted off my mind. It’s like .@elling myself to an angel, and giving ‘up my ‘prenticeship to the devil.” He was still upon his knees, still held im his rough, reé hands the hem of her black dress. She had not thought to bid him rise. She had forgotten time and place; yet the minutes, one by one, were slipping by—the minutes which were to assign her to a fate which each second re- wealed to her in a more’forbidding as- Had she possessed this knowledge @ariier it might have saved her; but mow {t was too late. To prove Ran- dolph Chester’s villainy could not si- lence nor wipe the stain from her dead mother's memory. Yet, oh, to bind this wary spider in his cruel web! If she could but clear ther thoughts—could see her way through this dread labyrinthe of hor- rors! She covered her face with her hands. ‘Tyrrell slowly rose to his feet, when out from the shadow loomed another figure. “I think “Courage!” said a voice. \Shat I can help you both!” CHAPTER XXXVI. “fo Beatrice both voice and face were @like wholly unfamiliar, but Tyrrell started with a start of recognition. It vwas the stranger who that morning had ~acoosted him at the lodge door, and ‘with whom he had held such long and ewarnest converse. “You did not tell me all to-day, my man,” he said. “Not even the whisky met your tongue quite loose; but the meat of ‘the story, to which I have just Miatened, is no surprise to me. As for you, Miss Markham, you need not fear to give me your confidence. I made a mistake tn putting the note Mr. Talbot sent. you tn the wrong room, and let- ting that handsome she-devil at the thouse get her first inkling of our se- ret. But I’m going to make up for ‘that to-day. I’m in Mr. Talbot’s ser- ewice, and he told me that if I showed you this at any time, you would not @ear to trust me.” And he drew from his pocket a card, on which were inscribed a few words am Bertram’s writing: but it had grown too dark for Beatrice to distinguish either. Still, drowning men cling to «@traws, and she must trust some one. “You are not deceiving me?” she aaked. “Take the card. When you go into the light it will reassure you. Mean- time, tell me into what immediate place ‘Mr. Chester proposes forcing you. You «must temporize, not rebel, until we, too, can lay the proper train.” “But to-night he -has promised to ‘ring me the papers—the papers he has @tolen from this place where Tyrrell ‘had hidden them; and in return for their possession I am to become his -~wife. This I have sworn. But one thing can be done—to wrest them from him—and this is impossible. He has ‘them, and wili hold them to the bitter ms it's he that stole ‘em away from ere, for only this morning he came whining to me to give ‘em to him.” “But who else could have taken them? Ah, there is no help, no help!” “Are you sure of that?” asked anoth- er voice, low, earnest, respectful. “Be- @trice, have you confidence for all the world but me?” 4 It was Allen Layton who had put the question—Allen Layton, who had seen her flight from the house and, fearing Gaoger, had followed her, as the de- eective had followed Tyrrell from the Rodge. The meeting seeme4 strange and un- natural, but, in reality, it was simple enough, only it was a conference now of four, instead of two, and strength lay in their numbers. “You are not deceiving me?” asked Beatrice. “Oh, then, I'm not alone—not friendless, not deserted, both by God and man!” “Yes, Mwill help you, Beatrice, and heaven has opened to me the way. T have heard all. I have felt myself guilty of no ignoble eavesdropping, for TI listened devoted to your cause, deter- mined to defend you, should need arise, and protect you in any case. Listen, dear child! Two nights ago the kot air of the house stifled me, and I had gone out for a little walk in the grounds. T was about returning, when I saw the figure of a man drop from one of the windows of my room. I was but a few feet distant from him, but the dark- ness wholly concealed me, although the light from within enabled me to distin- guish him as he groped his way along the shadow of the wall. Suddenly I saw him stop; I saw him thrust his arm into an aperture, and I believed that there he had concealed his booty. I was about to raise an alarm, but something—I ascribe it to Providence— checked the impulse. I determined in- stead to follow and be able to identify the man—to discover if he was one in the hired service of my host. I tracked him to the lodge. I saw him enter, and as he opened the door and the light streamed upon his face, I fully recog- nized him. I then returned to the spot he had just left. I found the aperture; I found the papers. Fear nothing; I have them sti Hitherto there had been no interrup- tion to his story; but now Beatrice’s sobs burst out thick and fast. The withes of the cruel web were still about her wings, but she fancied the shadow from the sunlight of her deliv- erer was falling about her and be- tokened the latter close at hand. She was shivering in her rich furs, and the air blew keen and chill. “Hush, dear!” said Layton, gently. “Let me go on. There is little more to tell. I felt prompted to carry the pack- age to my host, but, somehow, I could not do it. You had inspired me with your listrust! They, at least, are safe in my possession, and I deemed it wis- est to await events. Thank God that I did! This afternoon I saw Randolph Chester and talked with him. I told him that I believed he was dealing falsely with you, and that if I could prove it he must answer to me! Of course, the bond of friendship between us was forever broken by my words. He smiled and defied me. After leay- ing him I looked over the package to see what the contents might relate, and judge of my future action concerning them. One paper, Beatrice, is the will of your father. That I have not read; its seals are unbroken. One is the cer- tificate of your parents’ marriage—the death certificate of your mother’s form- er husband. one year before your father met her, and the certificate of your own birth My child, you have nothing more to fear from the dead ashes of an hon- ored and an honorable past!” Beatrice now had hushed her sobs. No one saw her face in the darkness, put it was illumined with the light and gladness of an incomparable ecstasy. She sank upon the cold, bare ground upon her knees and clasped her hands in reverence. “Thank God! thank God!” Gently Layton lifted her and threw nis arm about her for support. “J have a plan to propose,” said the stranger among them; and again his voice was the voice of the old man. They gathered about him and heard him to the end. “Do you consent, Miss Markham?” he asked, when he had ended. “Yes,” she answered. asked “are you strong enough?” Allen, anxiously. “Strong enough!” she answered. “Now—now do you think that my strength will fail me? Now, when I look back and thank God that I may whisper my sainted mother’s name without tremor and without blush! Besides—” “Hush!” pleaded Layton. “Even the air must not suspect us. Come—ygu may be missed.” At the entrance door she paused, and as his head was bowed, he felt her kiss upon his hand. “Such men as you,” she whispered low, “redeem the world.” “Such men as I!” he thought, sadly, as he retraced his steps to where the others were awaiting him. “Yet I had not strength to let her utter his name- the name of the man to whom I must forever resign her, and my own happi- ness. Beatrice, my love, my love!” But this time the cry was not the cry of ecstasy, but the wail of bitter an- guish—a strong man’s agony, and the supreme sacrifice of a noble life. CHAPTER XXXVIL. In her own room Beatrice once more awaited Randolph Chester’s coming: He had promised her the papers—she had promised him her consent. jf The clock on the mantel struck 4, when she heard outside the expected step:. & She rose and opened the door before he could request admittance. “You bring me the papers?” she said. His face was very pale, and his eyes were blazing like lurid coals. His lips were firmly met in one rigid line. “No, Beatrice,” he answered; “I have failed in securing them. It is the first failure of my life. Were I a supersti- tious man, I might regard it as an ill- omen. Happily, I am not. Moreover, I will still do all that I promised you. I will go to Naples, and obtain there the proof that you require. I possess information that has recently come to me, which will enable me to do this. 1 have lately heard the true story regard- ing you father’s marriage. True, his wife was married before, but she was sold to a brutal man by her parents. He was killed in a drunken brawl on her wedding day, and so She was re- leased from her hated vows. She was, indeed, educated for the operatic stage, and all else that you have heard con- cerning her is true; but she was your father’s lawfully-wedded wife, Beat- rice, will you go with me to Italy to prove my words true? Decide, and to- night. Our marriage must take place this very night, or to-morrow the choice will be no longer yours.” “You will not give me until to-mor- row?” she pleaded. But her cheeks had not paled, and there was a strange ring in her tone he could not understand. “I will not give you yet another hour.” he answered. ‘Will you con- sent?” “You will tell them all, before the ceremony takes place, that I am the inheritor of an honored name, and heir- ess to my father's wealth—in reality, mistress in my own home?’ “Yes, I will tell them all.” “Come for me in half an hour, then; I will be ready. No!” holding up one hand to warn him back, as he was about to approach her—“I must have my last hour of freedom wholly my own!” He paused. “Beatrice, you will not fail me?” “My word is pledged,” she answered. But when the door had closed upon him, she walked quickly to-one of the windows and threw it open. “Let mes have air!” she gasped. “To breathe the same atmosphere with him is poison!” Scarce had the clock chimed the half- hour before he returned. But what a wonderful change had taken place during his absence! It was, indeed, the old Beatrice Mark- ham who stood before him—Beatrice— dazzling, brilliant, radiant—as he had never seen her. She had cast aside her mourning, and greeted him as a bride— beautiful, peerlessly beautiful, in her white satin robe, her neck and arms bare and unjeweled, her lips parted in a smile. : A sudden fear smote him. A shadow fell across his face. “You are displeased with me?” she said. ‘You do not wish me to wear the garments of a bride?” “Displeased with you, my love?” he answered, her words dispelling his fears. “A thousand times, no! But my happiness—the happiness for which I have so long hungered—terrifies me with its magnitude. You have scorned me so long! and to-night—to-night—” “To-night is the dawn of the new day,” she replied. “Come!” (To Be Continued.) THE TRAINING OF BOYS. Wise Mother Is She Who Tries to Forget the Danger of Broken Legs and Arms. An excess of care is often as bad as no care at all. The mother must often shut her eyes on the playground. I have seen it done with good effect un- der difficult conditions. I have seen a mother sit at her sewing in a great barn, and pretend not to be aware that her boys were spanning the beams over- head, crawling on loose poles and hang- ing to wooden pegs, thinking it great fun to get the length of the barn, close under the ridge pole without, her know- ledge. I have seen the boys sitting with hushed breath in the thick foliage of a tree top, fearful lest the mother should get “‘worried”—and the mother, all this while, knowing the truth, wise- ly turned her back, and courageously called up all instances where boys have not fallen from treetops. She never knew how much sturdiness and agility was getting planted in those small legs, until one of the boys became the champion high-jumper in college. Nor had she much occasion to salve over her bruises. A little St. John’s wort in rud- dy oils was about the only healing pre- paration brought into requisition. They were learning something else all the while, those boys. One sweet night the mother heard one say to the other, as they slid into bed: “Dickie, grandpa’s coming to-morrow, and we won't climb any trees while he is here, ‘cause it will make him sad.” And they climbed no trees for six weeks; but they rowed in the harbor in their small boat, not knowing that grandpa sat on the shore, silent and miserable. So much, as have said elsewhere, do we play at hide and seek in this world.—Harper’s Bazar. Salisbury Scared at Dinner. Lord Salisbury is one of the most genial of men when seated with his, friends at a well-laden dinner table, One evening while so situated he had been keeping the whole company alive by his conversation, when suddenly he stopped short in what he was saying, and his face was seen to become grave and anxious. After a pause of some minutes, during which his lordship sat speechless and motionless, his neighbor asked him what was the matter. “Tt has come!” he muttered, in a voice of despair. What has come?’ was the bewild- ered reply. “Tt has come at last. The doctor said it must. I have been expecting it for these last ten years, and now it has come.” “But what has come?” asked the questioner, thoroughly frightened. “Are you ill?” “T am seized with a paralytic stroke. I have pinched my leg again and again, but I can feel nothing.” “Oh, you can set your mind at rest on that point,” was the reply. “It is my leg you have been pinching."’—Chi- cago Chronicle. DNodged it. The Apostle Peter had just preached his wonderful sermon. It had resulted in 3,000 converts. “But how are you going to baptize so many at one time?” asked one of the ither preachers. “Tg you please, brother,” replied Pe- ter, “we will not disturb the good feel- ings of the occasion by any discussion concerning the mode of baptism. Let us leave that for the sectarians of fu- ture ages.” And Now They Never Speak. Mr. Parkslope—When a lady tells mo it is her birthday, and I know she ts past thirty-five, I find it best to change the subject, instead of asking how ald she is. Miss Babylon—What a coincidence, your speaking of it! This happens to be my birthday. Mr. Parkslope (quickly)—Oh, indeed! What lovely weather we are having!— FORESTRY AND FOREST FIRE: Sixth Annual Report of the Forest Fire Warden of Minnesotn. The cktief forest fire warden of Min- nesota, Gen. C. C. Andrews, has issued his sixth annual report, being for the year 1900. It comprises 138 octavo pages, with numerous original illustra- tions of Minnesota forests, The spring of 1900 was the driest season that has occurred since 1894. The number of forest fires reported in 1900 was 139, which burned over 179,521 acres, and did damage to the amount of $153,399. The number of prairie fires was fifty; acres burned over, 213,240; damage, $63,017. During the dry season 300 re- ports were received from fire wardens, indicating activity in preventing and controlling fires. Twenty-six pages are devoted to extracts from the reports of local fire wardens. In a number of instances a great amount of property was saved by the efforts of fire wardens, Still better service could be Lad, the chief fire warden thinks, if the pay of fire wardens was more lib- eral. The area in which forest and prairie fires are liable to occur in Min- nesota exceeds thirty million acres, and it may be presumed that some fires occurred in the unsettled territory not covered by fire warden service. The following are extracts from the report: As an example of the efficiency of the fire warden service may be men- tioned the fire which occurred in the township of Moose Lake, discovered June 22 on school section 36, township 46, range 20, two and a half miles in a direct line from. the village of Moose Lake, between which and the fire is dense woods. The fire appears to have been set in three different places by a hunter in order to make pasture for deer. But for the energy and activity of the chairman of the town board in calling out help and controlling the fire it would doubtless have spread to and destroyed the village of Moose Lake (in which a hundred pupils were attending the village school) and might have extertded also north to Barnum. I subsequently visited the scene of the fire, and was gratfied to see the amount of work which had been done to prevent its spread. The first step in forestry is the pre- vention of forest’ fires. Without that there can be no forestry. Our Minne- sota system is not perfect and can be improved, but it has proved more et- fective than that of any other state. The six pears it has been in operation the damage from forest fires, accord- ing to the reports of fire wardens, has averaged only $35,000 a year; and our forests at a conservative estimate are worth one hundred million dollars. In previous reports I have strongly protested against the “dead and down” system of lumbering. A recent visit to two of the Chippewa Indian reserva- tions satisfies me that there are good grounds for the common impression that the Indians are being wronged—I may as well say robbed—by the cut- ting of pine timber under the “dead and down” timber law and that the way this law is administered offers a premium for causing’ forest fires. While much credit is due to the gov- ernment of the United States for hav- ing put in practice within the last tep years the plan of creating forest re- erves, mostly in mountainous regions, ntill it is a painful fact and one with which the friends of forestry ought to be acquainted, that, excepting what has been done in regard to forest re- serves the disposal of pine lands has been prodigal and wasteful. Obtain ing pine lands under the “soldiers’ ” additional homestead law and under the stone and timber act are illegiti- mate ways by which large bodies of such lands are acquired at much less than their value. Now these unpleasant facts ought to stimulate the friends of forestry throughout the country to demand of their senators and representatives in congress, and of the president, a re- form of this pine land system of plun- der. Apparently the most particular reform would be to have all of the re- maining public pine lands created into forest reserves, and treated on forestry principles. The cutting of pine timber has Been going on increasingly in Minnesota for over fifty years. The use of logging railroads facilitates consumption, and the average value of the pine just as it stands in the woods that is now an- nually cut is six million dollars. This great industry employs many thou- sands of workmen. As the benign mother of wages, let alone the, benefit of future supply and cheapness of lum- ber, we should take heed that the in- dustry be not ruined. To-day there is scarcely a lumber yard in Minnesota in which is not found lumber from the Pacific coast competing with our home products; and the railroad companies operating to the coast are looking for- ward to the time when the bulk of lumber consumed in this state will be brought from the primeval woods of Oregon and Washington. For any one who will need to buy lumber in the next twenty-five years, it will make a difference of hundreds. of dollars whether we go on in our present wasteful consumption of of the forest, or whether we inaugurate measures for forest regeneration. Probably there | feet of pine still | standing in Minnesota, and principally | are twenty billion in the counties of Cook, Lake, St. Louis, Itasca, Cass and Beltrami There is still some left in Carlton, Pine, Kanabec, Mille Lacs, Aitkin, Morrison, Crow Wing, Todd, Hubbard and Becker. There remains: much ce- dar, spruce, balsam and tamarack, immense quantities of poplar, and an extensive supply of other deciduous woods. Most people know that hard- wood timber land has a natural fertil- ity which makes it suitable for farm- ing. and this will ultimately come un- Jer the plew. It ts different with most of the land which naturally bears coniferous forest such as the pine. And herein is the significance of forestry for the people of Minnesota, that the pine will in our climate earn by its growth a net income on the capital it represents of 3 per cent compound in- terest on refuse land—land that ts too sandy, or too hilly, or too rocky for profitable cultivation. I would recommend an amendment to the constitution in substance as fol- lows: “Land which is unfit for agriculture and on which forest is systematically grown in good faith on tracts of not Jess than forty acres shall be exempt from taxation; but the forest crop on such land shall be taxed according to its value when it has reached mer- chantable size; and the tax shall be a lien on the land. Provided, that any land on which the branches and tops of felled trees shall remain after six months from the time the trees were felled shall be assessed and taxed as other land is assessed and taxed.” The report contains sketches of the forestry of sixteen European coun- tries. acinus deca neatas Surgical Operation in China. His Occupation Gon Brooklyn Workingman’s' wife (im 1901) —What happened, Danny? Her Husband (desperately}—Well, 1 have been fired by J. P. Morgan, and there’s nobody else in the worid te work for,—Brooklyn Eagle. ‘Try Gratn-O! Try Grain-O! Ask your Grocer to-day to show you @ peckage of GRAIN-O, the new food drink tt takes the place of coffee. The children may drink it without injury as well as the adult. All who try it, like it. GRAIN-O has that rich seal brown of Mocha or Java, but it is made from geod, bho and the most delicate stomach without dis it Placing the suffering Chinese woman | tregg, 14 the price pret i 1c and 25 ct ve on a rudely-constructed bamboo couch | per package. Sold by all grocers. near the open door and facing the court yard, in order to get the best light, with beating hearts, and under high nervous tension, we commenced the op- eration for cancer, so pregnant with the direst possibilities. While I adminis- Expressive. Mrs. Gowanus—What ts your father doing, Herbert? Little Herbert—He wants to find some fact or other; and he is playing tered the anesthetic, the doctor and my | hide and seek with the volumes of the” wife proceeded to remove the cause of | Encyclopedia the woman's suffering, while the mem~- bers of the family stood near by, and with fearful and awe-struck expres- sions gazed upon the ghastly scene. We had just reached the critical stage of the operation, the roots of the Eagle. Ais iter in Danger. Little Everett was watching his mother dress his baby sister. Present- ly, while she was fastening the dainty troublesome cancerous growth had been | slip. she said: skilfully removed, gushing arteries were being deftly caught and ligated, and we were quietly congratulating tle baby?” ourselves that the terrible tension would soon be over, when we were startled | wear pants and a by a terrific cry from Tsang, our ser- vant, who watched by the gate, and who, with an expression of almost hopeless despair, exclaimed: “Teacher, there is a crowd of men coming up the street!” In vome way our visit to the cottage had become known, and soon a horde of Wildly gesticulating and excited Chi- nese traced their way to where we were. As they came nearer, the sound of angry voices and fierce exclamations reached our ears, and we mutely looked at one another, for the situation was growing desperate and full of horror. “What will I do, Morley?” I cried to the doctor. Finish the operation,” he stoically re- plied. , Two Hundred Years Old. On the 29th of December, 1902, the Russian press will have the opportunity of celebrating its 200th anniversary. It was on that day, in the year 1702, that Peter the Great signed the ukase or- daining the publication of the first Rus- sian newspaper, the “News on Military and Other Matters.” A few days later the first number of the official Russian newspaper was issued, and from Jan. 16, 1703, it appeared regularly, both in St. Petersburg and Moscow. The first Russian newspaper, by the way, had but a short life. The News ceased to appear in 1711. Already preparations are being made in the Russian empire for a worthy celebration of the jubilee. The Biblio- graphical Society of Moscow plans the publication of a magnificent work, con- taining a list of all the Russian news- papers published from 1702'to 1902, and adorned with the pictures of prominent journalists and publishers. The net proceeds of the sale of the work are to used as a fund for supporting needy journalists. They also intend to ar- range, on this occasion, a magnificent exhibition at Moscow.—Chicago Inter- Ocean. Game to the Last. A certain duke, while driving from the station to the park on his estate, to inspect a company of artillery, observed a ragged urchin keeping pace with the carriage at his side. His grace, being, struck with the eleanliness of the lad, asked him where he was going. The lad replicd: 3 “To the park, to see the dook amd the sogers.’” The duke, feeling interested, stopped his carriage, and opened the door to the lad, saying he could ride to the park with him. The delighted lad, being in ignorarce of whom he was, kept his grace inter~ ested with his quaint remarks until the park gates were reached. ‘As the carrtag? entered, it was salut- ed by the company and guns, where- upon his grace said to the lad: “Now, cam you show me where the duke is?” ‘The lad eyed his person ail over, then, looking at the duke, replied, quite seri- ously: “Well, I dunno, mister; but it’ either you or me.”—Londom Spare Moments. About the Eyes. Watch children writing and you will see that they never (unless they are made to) sit correctly before their pa- per, with eyes looking straight at it. The head slopes down: to: the left, tlre book or paper slips away to the right, and the eyes, looking at it askew, are focussed’ from: different distances. Very possibly they may have sovre~ [ thing to do with the defective eyesight of the present day. Tell the children to never: rut» their eyes: ‘Traim them always to read with their | all—dat back to the window, lamp or gas, that the light may fall om the book, and mot | € Record-Herald. on the eyes. Never let a child read lying down. Do mot read, write or work longer than two hours at a time without rest- ing the eyes. Closing them: for fiye minutes at @ time i. restfyl and beneficial. Cheap Telephones. Telephone charges in France are be~ ing fuyther reduced. The Journal Offf- ciel publishes a decree that goes into effect in January, wheredy Paris sub- scribers get a telephone for $60 annual- ly. instead of $80. Lyons subseribers will pay $50. Non-subscribers can con- verse three minutes from any publfa telephone box in Paris for 3 cents; in other cities for 2 cents.—New York Herald. A Financial Test. Mr. Dykermeadows—Has young Ja- maica any bank aceount? Mrs. Dykermeadows (naively)—I don't know whether he has now; but he has been able to pay me attentions for six months —Brooklyn Eagle. Wasting Words. Bishop—Why didn’t you tell Robinson he was a liar? Brooks—It wouldn't have done any good. He has told me I am one 80 often.—Smart Set. The silk foundations for all saimmer gowns as yet shown are cut im the cir- cular shapa. — — * H lis, Minn., currycomb; | on dat man; “Do you know, Everett, that you used to wear this when you were a Iit- “Did I?” he asked. “Why didn't ¥ coat then, as I de now?” “Oh, you were too small. Al your clothes were just like little sister's.” He sat, thoughtfully, for a few mo- ments, and then took a walk around the room. When he returned to where his mother and the baby were, there was a troubled look on his face. “Did 1 wear all those little under- skirts baby sister has on?” he inquired. “Not the same ones, but others just like them.” “Then,” he demanded, in an outburst of alarm, “is she going to turn into @ boy as soon as she gets a little older, too?” Ambrose McKay’s Case. Rockbridge, Mo., June 24th:—The neighborhood, and particularly the members of Rockbridge Lodge, No: 435, A. F. & A. M., are feeling very + much pleased over the recovery of Mr. Ambrose McKay, a prominent citizem and an honored member of the Mason- ic Fraternity. Mr. McKay had been suffering for years with diabetes and Rheumatism, which recently threatened to end his days. His limbs were so filled with pain that he could not sleep. He was very bad. Just then someone suggested a new remedy—Dodd’s Kidney Pills—which have been much advertised recently, a3 a cure for Bright's Disease, Diabetes, Dropsy, Rheumatism and Kidney Trouble. After Mr. McKay had used a few box- es he commenced to improve. His pain all left him, and he is almost as well as ever. He says Dodd's Kidney Pills are worth much more than they cost. They are certainly getting a great reppta- tion in Missouri, and many very s@art- . ling cures are being reported. e Happy, Though a Widow. A Southern lady met a colored wid- ow, gaudily attired, laughing and talk- 4» ing, seemingly in the best of spirits. “Why, Lizzie!” said the lady, stop- ping the horse she was driving, “how is it you are so cheerful when your hus- band died only three weeks ago?” “Lor, Miss Mary,” returned the wid- ow, with a broad grin, “ev’'ybody knows there ain’t no happiness in married life tll one ob dem'’s done ’ceasted."--Harp- er’s Magazine. PATENTS. List of Patents Issued to Northwes Northwestern Inventors. ? Beck, Minn., Michael Minneapolis, electograph; Rudolph Bratka, Minne- ry sota Lake, Minn., valve; John E. Erick- son, St. Paul, Minn., box-trimming ma- chine; Cornelius Fockens, Minneapo- Henry Jewell, Butte, Mont., safety-catch for elevat- ors; James E. Murphy, Carver, Minn., center gauge for railway tracks. Lothrop & Johnson, patent attorneys, 911 & 012 Ptoneer Press Bldg., St. Paul, Minn. Appropriate. “This,” said the inventor, “is my new Gredger for river and harbor work.” “Ah!” replied the capitalist. “I ob- serve you call it the ‘Politician.’ Your. fdea in that, I suppose, is to court favor with the powers that be?” “No; I call it the ‘Politician’ simply because it throws mud.”—Catholie Standard and Times. ¥ Hall's Catarrh Cure te a constitutional cure. Price, 75¢. Clear Out of Key. “Lucy, where’s that other tall beau: nsed to have?” “Laws, Miss Nancy, I don’ ment back. he didn’t have no taste at man wo’ silver shirt stud® when he had a gol’ front toof."—Chicar Peculiarities are certain traits which your neighbor has which are different* from your own traits. CORNS HURT What Are:They Good For? jothing: but to aggravate, ter- rorize-and pain. Then why not get rid of them? Yow mayyas well. Rids feet of corns, sot, hard ex otherwise, on,the joints, be- tween the toes or on the soles of the feet. Clean, painless, safe and ~ absobately certatn—so certain that your druggist will refund your money !f you follow directions ang it does not do all this. Price 25 Cents, at oll Drugglste ox off LEONARD & CO., Britannica. — Brookly@ , } a 4 —