Grand Rapids Herald-Review Newspaper, August 24, 1901, Page 6

ase Clee CHAPTER VII. (Continued.) Leonce had seen that quick gleam of the eye, without understanding it; but. whatever it meant, she felt that it ‘warned her to be carefui ,and she en- deavored to control the least sign of impatience or irritation during the re- mainder of the detective’s questionings. May I ask your name, mademoiselle?’ William Hantlin continued, making a significant pause before the last word. “Leonce Amabel Beaupre.” “Of French parent: ge, I judge, from your name?” “Yes, monsieur.” “Born in Fr “{ was born in Paris, monsieur. 1 would be glad to furnish you with the records of my birth and baptism, but my parents neglected to supply me ne of the with them. I was reared in foundling hospitals of Paris.’ She spoke in a tone of such mingled bitterness and sorrow that the detect- ive forgot for a moment his object in questioning her, and was moved'to a | feeling of pity for her—the more so that ther handsome face was now quite beau- tiful, under the conflict of emotion that ewayed her. His cool, steel-blue eyes rested upon ft for an instant in a glance of admira- tion, and he said, almost with a touch of feeling: “I beg your pardon! I did not mean to wound you. I will detain you but a minute longer. How long have you been in this countr; “Less than a yea “In this city ever since you came to the country?” es.” ‘Then you have been in service in ew York before your present situa- tion?” “I bave not. Mrs. Grayson is my first mistress since I left France. Mad- am was good enough to accept the ref- -erence and testimonials I brought with sme.” Detected Hantlin favored Clarice with a slight pitying glance, and thought to himself: ‘Forged, probably, every one of them. Is the lady deep, I wonder, or only a dupe?” He continued aloud, with a penetrat- ng look at the Frenchwoman: “One question more, mademoiselle. Are you married or single?” For a moment the faint color deep- ened on the girl's face, then faded away, leaving her whiter than before. “J have no husband,’ ’she answered, in a tone that was scarcely audible. ‘Again an incomprehensible feeling ot “pity smote the detective. He an- - swered, softly: “—nat is all, mademoiselle- Thanks! - Sorry to have given you so much trou- ble!” All present listened with attention to Detective Hantlin’s questions—the law- yer with unconcealed indignation, for, having constituted himself the legal defender of Mrs. Grayson, he fearea the French maid might be entrapped into some expression injurious to her | Mrs. Martin, bec mistress; usg it was to her interest that suspicion should | -fali on Clarice, and she absorbed greea- ily every word calculated to injure her brother’s lovely young bride, though her own suspicions pointed in a widely different direstion; Mr. and Mrs. Mow- ‘bray from natural anxiety for their - daughter. Having concluded his interrogatory sof Leonce, the detective now addressec himself to Clarice. “You will excuse me, Mrs. Grayson, if ask a guestion in reference to your maid’s references. Were they entirely satisfactory?” “Entirely so.” “Pardon me. I suppose you have written to the individuals from whom they purported to come, inquiring into them?” “J have not done so. There seemed ; mo necessity. The few rersonal in- quiries that I felt it necessary to make of the young woman herself were an- aswered so promptly and with such evi- dent truth that I was quite satisfied. | Any further inquiry—if I should con- sider it necessary to make any—will, no doubt, be equally satisfactory.” ‘The detective bowed in acknowledg- ment of the implied rebuke in these words, but added, with unabated per- severance: “J would like to ask the maid one more question.” And he again directed his glance to- ward her, or rather toward the spot he thad last seen her occupy: Leonce was no longer there! The detective looked hurriedly from ‘one to the other, and with a compre hensive glance swept the whole room; ‘but the Frenchwoman was no longer to ‘be seen. All present partook of his surprse, and there was a general stir and a hur- ried inquiry for the girl. “Leonce! Mrs. Grayson called, “where are you? Step forward! I ‘want you directly!’ ’” No reply came. “Where can she be? Did any one see | ther leave the room? How strange! "What is the meaning of it?” Mrs. Martin made herself particular- ly busy, moving a couple of large arm | hairs and parting the window cur- tains, as if under the impression that Grayson’s maid must be some- saled in the room, but with- ering any trace of her, Le- ence had disappeared. Some fiv ten minutes were thus apent in fruitless conjecture and search, when Clarice suddenly that her maid was of a very nervous subject to severe | dresses hung upoh the hooks, and a temperament and headaches. “No doubt the poor girl has retired to | stood upon the shelf. she | “Who her room for a few moments: looked wretchedly ill. once and inquire.” She stretched her hand toward the but Hantlin | inqnired, and to Hantin’s sharp ear the bell-pull as she spoke, hastily interposed. “No, madam, pray don’t! My ques- | A Fatal. en liharriage. I will send at ELIZABETH CAMPBELL. Saed erty to remind every one that my in- quiries have been due entirely to my wish to get a clue to the perpetrator of this wicked crime. I will now take my leave, that I may think the matter over, and consider whether I have any information that will serve me.” He hastily bowed, in a way that seemed to include everyone and hurried j from the room. He had not gone more than half a dozen steps when he was overtaken by Mrs. Martin. “I know you will understand my mo- tive in following you, Mr. Hantlin,” she hastened to say.. “I am the greatest sufferer by the death of my poor broth- er, and I suppose it is natural that 1 should be the most anxious to avenge him. There seems little enough dispo- sition in this house to aid the cause of justice; but if I can make up for the lulke-warm interest of others, let me {do so. It there nothing I can do to aid you? I know you mistrust that French hussy, and so do I. Oh, I saw the | looks that passed between her and her | mistress!’ ’ | A slight movement of the muscles around the mouth, that might have been a smile in any other man, was Hantlin’s first answer, as he stopped short and lcoked Mrs. Martin directly in the face. | “I think I can understand your feel- ings, madam,” he said, ‘‘and I also think you may be of use to me. You noticed that Mrs. Grayson said her maid had probably retired to her own room?” “Yes!” returned Mrs. Martin, eager- | ly, “but she hasn't.’ If she had done so | Mrs. Grayson would not have offered to send for her.” “That's as may be. In these matters nothing is certain, and all former pre- cedents are contradicted. Now, if Mademoiselle Leonce did retire to her | own room, she is probably there yet, and if we can find out where her room is, it will be easy-ercugh to find out if she is in it.” “I will know where it is in a very few | moments!” Geclared Mrs. Martin, with her usual promptitude. Advancing to the head of the stairs, she called to one of the servants, who happened to be friendly toward her, from interested motives; but she re- ceived no reply, for the servants had | all betaken themselves to the lower floor again, after having devoured the | Wedding breakfast to their own full content. They were probably too deeply en- gaged now in discussing the recem | tragedy, and its possible effects upon ‘their own individual welfare, to heer | any ordinary noise. Mrs. Martin hastily ran down stairs, seized the bell-pull in the front hall, land wrung an imperious peal. The summons was answered by the very servant she had previously called. | “Now, Susan,” she said, addressing the startled girl, ‘I want you to tell me where the room of Leonce, the French maid, is situated, or, better still, come with me and show me the room.” The girl replied by obeying, and. hay- ing followed Mrs, Martin up stairs again to the hall where she had left William Hantlin waiting her return, the girl | preceded them up another flight of stairs leading to the floor above, and | then, at the further end of the hall be- yond halted at the door of a small room. | “pnis is it, ma’am. The French maid | was put in this room for the present. How I know it is because I happened to |be the one that showed her into it when she came this forenoon, after poor, dear master had started for the church. The room is too far away from missus’ room, and was a-going to be changed after our new missus got | back from across the ocean.” “Oh, very well, Susan, thank you; you may go.” Mrs. Martin waited a moment until | she was out of hearing on her way down stairs again. Hantlin had already knocked lightly | on the door, but had received no an- swer. Mrs. Martin, unhesitatingly tried the door, and found it locked. “She’s in the room!” she whispered, with a keen look at the detective. “The door would not be locked unless she was on the other side of it.” “Or some one else concealed there,” | the detective returned, quietly, and in ; the same low tone. ‘A look of excitement came into Mrs. Martin’s face—she thought of Shirley Austin instantly—yes, at the instiga- | tion of Clarice, he might be concealed there. | “We must know without delay!” she said. “Some one is within. I hear | movements. Do you?” The detective silghtly inclined his head, almost carelessly, it seemed te Mrs. Martin, and his calmness only in- creased her excitement. She seized the | door-knob and rattled it violently; ‘then, with both hands, beat violently | on the panel. “Who is there?” asked a voice, that she recognized as the Frenchwomans. “It is I, Mrs. Martin. Open the door instantly. You are wanted.’ ’ ‘Almost while she spoke, the door opened, and Leonc2 appeared, holding a white sik handkerchief to her face. The handkerchief was stained with blood, | and the woman took no pains to con- | ceal the fact. Mrs. Martin pushed aside the French | maid and rushed into the room. It was a small, square room, containing remembered | one closet, the dor of which stood, os- | tentatiously, open, showing that a few | bandbox with another smaller box, have you concealed here? ‘Where is the wretch?” Mrs. Martin de- | manded. “What does madam mean?” Leonce | tone was too quiet and too innocent. Mrs. Martin only answered by dash- tion can remain unanswered for the | ing into the closet and out again. She present. I apologize for having in- ruded here go long, and I take the lib- | looked under the bed. then flung herself on the floor and From that fruit- | | | | i less search she rushed to the windows. They were both on the same side of the room, and looked out on a paved yard, which nothing alive could have reached in safety without wings. “Wreteh! What have you done with him?” Mrs. Martin demanded, turning again fiercely toward the waiting maia, “I cannot imagine what madam means,” she replied. “No doubt the shock, the horror and the grief has af- fected madam’s head. It would be not a—what you call it—surprise.” Mrs. Martin bestowed a glance of contempt on her; then, noticing stains of blood on the carpet, and on the mar- ble of the washstand and bowl, cried out: “Look, sir—look, Mr. Hantlin! She had concealed the murderer here; but we are too late! See that blood-stained water? Oh, merciful heaven—it is there that he has washed my poor brother's blood from his guilty hands!” And, overcome by her own uncon- trolled excitement, Mrs. Martin gave way to a burst of hysterical tears. The detective allowed the two women full sway. He merely watched. At the close of Mrs. Martin’s wild outburst, he spoke for the first time. “I came here to ask you a question, Miss Leonce. How did you spend the time between leaving me and Mrs, Grayson, when you were sent away this morning, and the time when the first alarm of the murder was given?” “I can hardly quite remember, mon- sieur—so many things have happened. But it was with the rest of the ser- vants, I think. I was expected to bo summoned to madam, if you will please remember.” The answer was assured and self- possessed, and the detective saw at once that the girl had regained all her natural composure and self-control. He merely glanced at the reddened water in the basin and the blood-stains about, the explanation of which the girl could so readily afford if asked. He did not even refer to them. Backing toward the door, he said, respectfully: “I would not have intruded to ask that question if you had not left: the room so suddenly.’ ’ “I thought monsieur had dismissed me. Besides, I was suffering from a terrible headache, and feared an attack of nose-bleeding, to which I am very subject. As monsieur may see, my fears had good foundation.” For it was evident enough that the attack still continued. “Yes, mademoiselle, I obesrve that you have a most convenient—beg par- don!—I should say a most inconvenient. nose. Good-morning!’ ’ Mrs. Martin accompanied Hantlin from the room, and the door was im- mediately closed and locked behind them. A glance full of intelligense passed between them, but neither spoke. The glance, however, said, plainer than words: “The Frenchwoman knows the mur- derer. She first concealed him, then aided him to escape. Is he her lover or the lover of her mistress?” CHAPTER IX. Robert Grayson. The detective parted from Mrs. Mar-~ tin at the foot of the stairs, and she de- termined to go home, for she could see nothing to gain by further delay. She desired, also, to be alone, and to collect her thoughts, which were in a whirl from the rapid and varying suc- cession of events. Having summoned a carriage, she re- mained leaning against the lower ban- nister of the stairs awaiting it; and, all at once, she realized that she was faint with hunger, weariness and excitement. It was at that moment that Susan ap proached her, and noticed the evidence of fatigue and weariness. The girl had good cause to feel friendly toward Mrs. Martin, and it oc curred to her now that there might be a stronger reason than ever for culti+ vating the lady’s kindness. “Oh, ma’am, how weary you look— and you must be quite faint with hun- ger! Do, please, let me get you some thing! Or if you will come into the breakfast room—” “I believe I am almost faint,” Mrs. Martin answered, accepting Susan’s suggestion and following the girl into the breakfast room, where she dropped, exhausted, into the chair that Susan quickly placed for her. At the same moment the silver- tongued clock om the mantel! chimed the hour of four. “Four o'clock!” she exclaimed, count~- ing the strokes. ‘‘No wonder I feel ex- hausted. I have not tasted food since an early breakfast this morning. Yes, thank you, Susan, I will take a little ot something, for I must not Iet myself break down altogether:” Susan served a tempting little lunch- eon of cold chicken, a biscuit, a plate of salad and a glass of Champagne; and, notwithstanding the gloom of the house and the ghastly association ot the time, Mrs. Martin had never in her life eaten with greater relish or benefit to herself. By the time the carriage was an- nounced she felt herself almost a new being, she was so thoroughly refreshed. As she hastened toward the carriage she turned for a moment to Susan. “There are strange doings in this house, Susan,” she said, almost in @ whisper. “Keep a watchful eye on ev- erything and everybody, and you will do me a favor. You know that you may depend on my friendship, if you should ever need it. You understand me, Susan?” “Yes, ma’am,” Susan answered, with emphasis, and Mrs. Martin knew that she had left a pair of eyes as vigilant almost, as her own, to look after her interests. As the carriage rolled along toward her home, she leaned. back in the soft-. cushioned seat and felt almost as if that fine equipage was her own. Many comforting thoughts, that in the whirl and confusion of the past few hours she had not been calm enough to reflect on, now passed through her mind with pleasurable suggestions. She half-shuddered to remember how often in the past few weeks she ha wished that Philip might die before he could marry Clarice Mowbray. He had not so died, and how much better, per~ haps, that events had turned out as they. had; for now was she not heir~ at- law to all his enormous wealth? marriage revoked all wills executed be- fore marriage, and poor, dear Pailip | ers had not hei time to make a new will, whatever his intention might have cee ae —————————}— She did not know very much of law, Z but she felt quite sure of one point— husband’s death! | been, before. Oh, horrible! She could not think of the dreadful cause which had prevented him! and then, having reverted to it, her thouzhts would become fixed in that direction, and she began to wonder and speculate as to the perpetration of the murder, and to ask herself yet over and over again, the perplexing question: “After all, could it have been Robert? And if so, what had become of him, and what would be done to him?” He was a madman, and, therefore. they could not hang him. No; the worst they could do would be to put him in a lunatic asylum for the rest of his days any bad enough, surely. Poor old Rob- ert! But it seemed impossible. He would have taken no pains to conceal his crime. Rather, on the contrary, he would probably have remained, with the dripping weapon in his hand, stand- ing over the prostrate form, ready to proclaim to all the world the propriety and justice of the dreadful act. Besides, where could Robert have possessed himself of that stiletto?—and beyond question, with that weapon the deed had been done. Who, then, so like- ly to have done it as Shirley Austin, surprised and maddened at seeing his long-promised bride Ieaning, a wedded wife, on a rival's arm? He, indeed, might have had the weapon, for had he not held Clarice in his arms? And from that frantic em- brace Philip had torn her forcibly, leaving—what could be more probable? —the stiletto either im Austin’s hand, it he had plucked it from her veil, ,or dropping it at his feet if it had, in the struggle, fallen out of the lace folds? “Yes, yes!” Kate Martin exclaimed, exultantly, “it seems almost a foregone conclusion. Let me remember, now. What was it I heard that old simpeton, Mrs. Mowbray, say about the stiletto? | I couuld not have imagined it, though her husband so quickly hushed her up. Ah, now I know! The weapon was a gift from Shirley Austin! Yes, I re- member her very words now. Probably in his rage he tore it from her veil in the very moment that she lay fainting in his arms—perhaps with the inten- tion, even then, of stabbing his success- ful rival, and, failing in that, he came to the house and lay in wait for Philip. “Of course he had an accomplice—the | Frenchwoman! She must have krewn from Clarice of the unhappy love affair, and, at her mistress ’orders, shielded the murderer, red-handed, from his victim, and enabled him to escape whila. that sharp-eyed detective and his po- licemen were safely disposed of up stairs, trying to make discoveries—ha, ha! It’s always the way. But the de- tective is a keen fellow, and I must see him again—” At this point Mrs. Martin’s reveries were brought to an abrupt conclusion by the stopping of the carriage; and,as the coachman assisted her to alight, she found that she was at her own door. It was hurriedly opened before she could knock or ring the bell, and Bertha and Lettie both received her with loud demonstrations of grief and terror and exclamations at her long absence. “Oh, mamma, how dreadful! Poor Uncle Philip—Poor, dear Uncle Philip! Who could have been so wicked and so cruel? We have been so frightened ana so much alarmed when you didn’t come home!” Mrs. Martin kissed both her daugh- ters, and soothed and quieted them. She was fond of all her children, but Bertha and Letty were her favorites. They were both approching woman. hoo@—Bertha nearly eighteen and Letty just sixteen—and in their youth and beauty she saw her own happy girlhood again, and the possibilities of all the successes which she had missed or mar- red in her own life. “Don’t be noisy, my dear girls! You have kept this shocking affair from the | childern, I hope? That's well. I would | not have had you know of it myself un- | til I had time to break the news, at any rate. How came you to hear of it?” “Why, mamma, dear, of course, We followed in our carriage, with the rest | of the guests that had been invited te the breakfast. When we arrived there seemed almost a riot in the street, there was such a crowd, such an excitement, Policemen were standing about, and someone said that other policemen were already in the house. We were SO frightened! But that was nothing to- what followed. When we reached the door, at length, we learned that a mur- der had been committed. Oh, mamma, dear, perhaps it was not so bad! In the. excitement it may have been exagger- ated! Say it is not true!” “Too true, unfortunately! My poor. brother is dead—foully murdered!” Mrs. Martin spoke with solemn. em- phasis, and the two girls broke into passionate weeping. Philip Grayson had heen the kindest. of uncles to Kate Martin’s children, ana he was much loved by all of them. For some minutes the two young girls: wept without restraint,,but their. moth- er insisted that they. should control their grief, and not toa.suddenly; alarm. the younger children, “It is terrible enough,” she added; “put, unhappily, your, uncle: brought it on himself. I almost, knelt. to. him, im my ertreaties to prevent. his, marriage with Clarice Mowbray; hut nothing availed, I warned him that, the report of young Austin’s death had never beem confirmed by any. sufficient. pnoof. I went so far as to, prophesy that the young man would kill Glarite Mow- bray’s husband, if he should. chance to be alive and ever return. But Philip was obstinate. I might, as: well bave talked to the deaf. Your uncle was in- fatuated with that girl: and, as it seems, the other lover. was equally mad about her.” “Oh, mamma, who could help it Bertha exclaimed, with enthusiasm. “What a vision of beauty she looked this. morning at the. altar! I seem to see her now—her saowy robes, her shin. ing,, starlike eyes, her glittering, golden hair, and her exquisite facet I shall never forget her!” “Yes, she’s beautiful,” Mrs. Martin } hated Clarice so, that even her daugh~ ter’s naturai and, girlish. enthusiasm in- tensified thai hatred. “4 pas deen a fatal gift to others as well as to herself. Your unfortunate wacle lies dead on account of it; the wretch who. took his life wit hang for it, if there’s law or justice in the cquntry; and it will go hard with proved that she never connived at her “Mcmma!” exclaimed both her listen- in a breath, “surely, no one suspects Clarice?” “Circumstances are very suspicious, indeed; and as to Shirley Austin—” “Oh, tamma! do you think that wretched young man killed ovr poor uncle?” “Who else could have done it?) What motive had any one else? But I cannot speak further on that subject. It has been a day of horror and If am worn out. Has Uncle Robert returned? Or was he at the church at all, I wonder? saw nothing of him there.” “I don’t think he was there ,mam- ma,” Letty answered. “I am sure Un- cle Robert has not left his room to- day.” “And I hope there iss not fresh trouble for us because of him!” Bertha added, gravely. “What do you mean?” Mrs, Martin asked, sharply. “Nothing, mamma—only that. I was afraid of—I don’t know what! But you know when we were starting for ¢hurch you could not determine whether Uncle Robert had already gone, or waa still in his room. When we returnedevery- thing looked exactly the same as: whet we had left the house. I found. that none of the children had seen. Wncle Robert. Letty and I both tried the door, but found it locked. We: then listened at the keyhole, to find. out if anyone was in the room, and we: dis- tinctly heard loud and irregular breath- ing. From that, of course, we conctid- ed that Uncle Robert was therey and asleep. So we came away quietly,.and have refrained from disturbing. him. But during the past hour we have:not been able to distinguish any sound, al- though we have several times listenea with care. The door is still fast locked, and I am positively certain it has not been orered since we returned.” Mrs. Martin rose, with a perplexed look upon her face. “I will go and knock on the door my-- self,” she said. “If I receive no answer, we must have a locksmith at once and force the lock.” She had but just spoken the words, when the parlor door opened gently and Robert Grayson entered quietly and ad- vanced toward them. ‘There was in his appearance a subtle but marked change. Mrs. Martin ob- served it almost with a thrill of fear, and to her, of course, it was the most noticeable. Bertha and Letty, who saw very little of their uncle's eccentricities and were + acme pearance 4 almost unconscious of the rooted mono- mania which had unhinged his mind, only noticed that Uncle Robert looked at onee brighter and quieter than ever he had appeared to them on any former occasion. To Mrs. Martin the change expressed itself in one brief and amaz- ing: sentence: “Robert is no longer insane; quite recovered his reason!” “I'm afraid I have overslept myself,” he said, advancing toward his sister and seating himself on the sofa beside her. “Yeu have evidently returned from chureh.’” “Good gracious, Uncle Robert, it must be 5 o'clock im the afternoon!” Letty exclaimed, for the moment forgetful of everything else and utterly amazed at her uncle’s: words. “Where have you Been,. and what have you been doing?” (Te Be Continued.) he has One Pusyenger Too Many. A. good story is going the rounds of the offices: of the Metropolitan Street Railway company, concerning the won- derful presence of mind displayed re- cently’ by a new conductor on one of the: company’s trolley cars. This par- ticular car was bowling up Fifth street recently, whem it was hailed and board- sd bya company inspector. The official hurriedly counted the passengers im the car, and found that there were mine. Then he cast his eye up tothe register, which, in those cars, is fastened to the woodwork above the door, and found that there had been only eight fares.rung up. He disclosed his identity to the new conductor and called attention to the discrepancy. Slowly and@ painfully the new hand counted ttre passengers, and then scanned his: register. “Begorra, an’ you're roight, sir,” he “Say,” he demanded, addressing the passengers in am authoritative man- ner; ‘““War o” youse fellows’ll have to git: off’ the car-r.”” Mr: Vanderbilt Was Surprised. A Brussels correspondent tells an: amusing story of a recent visit paid by Cornelius Vanderbilt to the Museum of Ancient Brussels Laces. . The sight of such priceless treasures im charge, apparently, of a single per- son; inspired Mr. Vanderbilt with an American idea as to its possibilities. “What would you do,” he queried, “if we were all to set upon you?” “sfonsieur ean try,” replied the man,- quietly, and, almost on the instant, six stalwart mem appeared at the door; summoned by an electric button-which’ ttre caretaker had pressed. Finally; as Mr. Vanderbilt and his friends absolutely refused to leave the building withoat being allowed to buy something, a number gf lace handKer- chiefs were quietly got from a neigh boring shop. Deed Onto Santa Claus. “J don’t like to tell a Christmas stery with the thermometer poking fun at’ the 100 mark, but this is too good:te keep untit next December,” said’ the ' man from Cripple Creek. “It was the | night before Christmas; and ¥ wan- dered wp stairs somehow or other, with the most thorough condition Ivhad ev-, er accumulated. I thought I ought to) square it the next morning, so. I: got pleasant at the breakfast table, and’ asked Johnny, my edest, i Je had’ seen Santa Claus the night before “«No, sir; I didn% see him,’ the kid sai@, ‘but I heard iim hiccough when he came up stairs.” “By the way—er—er—Jack, what’s yeurs?”—Denver ‘Fimes. Signs of Victory. “Casey, the conthractor, an’ "is wife ‘wor playin’ croquet yistherday,” said Mr. Rafferty- | “Who won tae gare?” inquired Mr. | said, with short, sharp bitterness. She | Dolan. “T dinnaw. But judgin’ be the brok- en mallet thet cem fiyin’ over the fince “And her beauty | an’ the two big welts on Casey’s brow, I sh’d say the victor wor Casey’s wife.” —Washingien Stan Easity Defined. Inquirmg Youth—Pa, what ts a dis- her if it is} criminating apd differential duty? .Pa—A discriminating and differentia! duty, my som, is that sort of duty which impels yoar mother to call me “dar- ling” in the parlor, and something ela after the company has gone home~ New York Timer. Rid ei a Rare Butterfiies Bring Big Price» About twenty butterfiles and nearly 600 moths are swpplied by Wicken Sege Fen in Cambridgeshire, England, but only a few of the rarer and more valu- able specimens are sought after by the entomologists. Their value from w& monetary point of view is somewlat difficult to guage. For instance, a very scarce and inconspicusus brown moth, called Hydrilla Palustris, which is only taken at long intervals; several years intervening, is worth $10’ to $15, while swallow-tail butterfly, although found nowhere else in England, is worth but 10 cents. A good specimen of the large copper butterfly is worth from $30 to $40, but this butterfly is now extinct.— Pearson’s Magazine. No Milk With Lobster. My young friend had evinced a gen- tlemanly discrimination in favor of the petite luncheon, and during his last foray he shocked the sensibilities of the attendant fairy, by ordering a lob- ster salad, roll and a glass of milk. “We are not permitted to serve lob- ster with milk,” ejaculated the lady’ “Why not?” inquired the young mam. “Is it a general order or solicitudé for" me personally?” “The combination is poisonous,” re~ pited the sprite—Boston Letter to Chi+ cage Pest. ‘Wabasha Hears Good News. Wabasha, Minn., August 1)th> George Huber of this town suffered! frcm Kidney Trouble and Back-Ache- He was very bad. Dodd’s Kidney Pills; & mew remedy, has cured him complete- ly. He is now quite well and able to: work. He says Dodd’s Kidney Pills~ are worth their weight in gold. News comes to hand almost every’ day of wonderful cures by Dodd’s Kid- ney Pills, which, although but recently introduced in this country, has already” made many warm friends by its splen- did results in the most serious cases of Fright’s Disease, Diabetes, Dropsy, Rheumatism and Back-Ache. ‘Witfally Misunderstood. “Some of my latest photographs,” said the camera fiend, ‘I took fifty feet under water.” “Whiy. did you go to the trouble of taking them there?” inquired Pepper- ey. “It would have been easier to just tie a stone to them and throw them in.” —Philadelphia Press. 140 not believe Piso’s Cure for Consumption has an equal for,coughs,and colds.—Joun ¥ Borge, Trinity Springs, Ind., Feb. 15, 1900. How Customs Vary. She—Im some parts of Australia, when a man marries, each of the bride’s< relatives strikes him with & stick by: way of welcome into the fam- ily: He—yes; amd in many parts of America, whem a man marries, each of the bride’s relatives strikes him with a loan, by way of welcoming him into the family.—_New York Times. PATENTS. List of Patents Issned to Northwes Northivestern Inventors. Delbert E:. Barton, Minneapolis, Minn., wheel box. and axle; William H. Dan- ijels, Duhutt,; Mimm., grain car door; Henry Kueger, Minneapolis, Minn., line guide fov reels; Charles W. Nitterauer, Duluth) Minn., engine lathe; William J. Ryther, St. Paul, Minn., attachment for typewriters; Fridolin Schimmel, Faribault, Minm, bridge bearing for pienos. Lothrop &-Jobnson, patent attorneys, 911 & 012 Pioneer Press Bldg., St. Paul, Minn. Management. “Don't: you think you lose patience with your husband on rather slight provocation?” asked the near relative. “T have to: provoke kim sometimes,” was the»piacid answer, “so that he will lose hisetemper, and then give me any- thing I want s@ as to atone for the way he has-aeted.’"—Washington Star. Pleasant Death. Dark Pedestrian—And the last thing poor John did was to kiss me.” Fair Cyclist—Ah! And then he died, I'suppose?—Ally Sloper. ON SALE EVERYWHERE | CATALOGUES FREE. | | TS AND HATS.| ' NE OF GAR! CO. BOSTON. MASS. ‘Whatman orwoman suffering with painful and eorns wilknot give25centsto % removed? Hamburg tent to your house, post; hich at games era Bo matter. whero itis, how king. Eave bad tt or how tortazing itis. y ves ewticle of genuine ‘only ono that will dou p and properly iti ota, tning.” Ridas feet other. four jaoney retundea it Te dose not Go. mn joes no! this. Sent prepay en receipt of cents by SCALE AUCTION PE ALTA LI a ash 9 N. W.N. U. NO, Sh~ 1901,