Grand Rapids Herald-Review Newspaper, September 7, 1901, Page 6

Al Fatal, mr. liharriage. CHAPTER XI. (Continued. As if not seeing, or else not under- @tanding the gesture, Dr. Bethune took @ chair, and sat down at some distance from her. “He has fallen asleep,” was the an- swer, in a quick, though not hurried tone. “He seems worn out. I had but time to get him undressed and in the bed, when he dropped off, as sound as atop. Your patience will be severely tried, I fear, before he is able to leave that room. But it's too late to make any different arrangements now, even ff you would wish to. It would be as much as his life is worth to move him mow. If you will let me, I will send 4 eapable nurse. I know of one upon swhom I can depend, and he is at pres- ent disengaged.” “Thank you, sir; I would be ver) @lad of your assistance in this matter. “You say the gentleman is an entire @tranger?” pursued the doctor, looking at her keen! “I never saw him before to-day, sir,” fwas the reply, in accents of unmistak- @ble truth. Mrs. Martin met that keen glance ‘with a gaze as innocent as that of an infant; and her lips ached with the wish to ask her interrogator the same question. “You are doing a true kindness tc | ene who will, I think, prove worthy of it,” the young doctor continued, in a tone of feeling. “I will return later in the evening. Meantime, I will send the murse; his name is Naylor, and he will bring a note frora me. I wish you Spectfully, good- morning, madam With a_ scarcely-suppressed Mrs. Martin followed him to the door, and stood there watching him out of sight. “Ye won't be so hard to manage as I eared,” she half-murmured, and the gmile came out fully on her face, halt- g@cornful, half-amused. ‘He is young, fhonest and unsuspicious. Now for the ther!” She turned and ran swiftly up the Stairs, along the hall, toward the room occupied by Shirley Austin, and, paus- 4ng only a moment to listen at the door, ahe softly turned the knob and stole 4nto the room. Her movements were always as light fs those of a cat, and now she hardly Breathed, in her care not to disturb the wleeper. But, after a glance, she saw that such caution was not necessary, for Shirley, although he murmured in- «coherently and flung his arms wildly about, was sunk in the sleep of ex- thaustion, and would not be easily roused. For a few moments she stood by the | fbed and watched him. The doctor had, after undressing him, robed him in a mightdress belonging to Bertha, which fhe had found on the bed, and his hhands, and wrists and throat showed that the physician had been correct in the surmise that Austin was probably suffering from a relapse after some Zong and serious illress. He was painfully thin, though youth ‘and a naturally fine constitution had | prevented the ravages of sickness from showing so plainly while he was seen only im his own clothes. “Is this the murderer of Philip Gray- on?" Mrs. Martin thought, musingly. “If so, there must be some trace of the derime about him.” Turning swiftly from her contempla- ‘tion of Shirley, her gaze fell upon the | lothes he had worn, and which lay in a@ heap on the floor where they had een flung by the young physician. * One by one, she lifted each article, hook it light and laid it over the “back of a chair. As she took up the waistcozt sumething dropped from the pocket. She stoopedeaodaraised it, and as her eyes fell on it they flashed with delight | sand triumph. The article she gazed on was a simall, oval picture, paintea on ivory, and the radiant face that Jooked up at her was that of Clarice Mowbray. “This is proof enough! I hold him and ther at my mercy! This is, unquestion- ably, the miniature that Philip wore 4m the locket set with diamonds, and which the valet, Carl, described. It is it must be so. And it has been torn from the locket, evidently, and with nu gentie force; but here it is, and unin- gured; there must be more. If he sobbed Philip, to give the idea of rob- ‘bery to his crime, there must be other proofs about him; he cannot have dis- posed of the rest yet, and probably the j Yocket is not far off, either.” Without ceremony, Mrs. Martin be- an to ransack each and every pocket @f Shirley's clothes; but, to her in- tense chagrin, she found nothing to veward her. There was no trace either of the y locket, the diamong shirt g@tud or the valuable watch—nothing, Sndeed, save the picture to suggest the | bility that Shirley had ever seen any of the articles eribed by Carl as missing from his master’s person. o matter!” exclaimed Mrs. Martin, flinging each article from her as she finished her search; “this is, of itself, enough, unless he could have had a Po portrait of the girl himself—and that, ehe thought, after a moment's reflec tion, “is likely enough. But he would scarcely have carried it about with him without any sort of frame or case to protect it; and, besides, this is just the size for a locket, and I feel assured that it is the one that Philip had paint- | ed. I know the artist, too, and he will recognize his own work. So, so! beautiful Clarice, you will live long enough to curse the hour when you stepped between me and Philip Gray- son's fortune!” She smiled back at the radiant face, es she raised it to the light, and be- stowed a long, careful look at it, and then she folded it carefully in her hand- kerchief and placed it in her posket. “Tie there, my pretty dear, for a while. i will find a safer place for you by and by. What a day this has been! If it was not so late, I would seek out the detective, even now. But, no, I must not betray too much vehemence a tas: smile, | Ah, | ELIZABETH CAMPBELL. Land to-mor- in the pursuit of the criminal; row will be better.” And, with a final glance of triumph toward Shirley, Mrs. Martin stole softly from the room, CHAPTER XII. | Is It a Clue? “If this happens to me again,” thought Detective Hantlin, when he turned away from Mrs. Martin, and took his way back to the room in which | he had left the captain of police, “it | will be time for me to leave the force. | The murderer has walked out under | my eyes; but I'll lay my hand on his | shoulder before this day month, and Say ‘Thou art the man!’ or my name is not Will Hantlin. Yes; this day month. I won't make any desperate | resolve, and that will give me fair time; | but if I have not found the villain with- in that period, it will be a sign that my | days of usefulness are over.” | He paused there, for he was almost face to face with Capt. Monroe, who came out of the room in which lay the body of the deceased master of the house. A few words passed between the two men, in which the police captain told the detective that the coroner's jury was called for the following morning, the two officers being left in possession of the room for the present. The detective and the captain of po- lice then left the house together, and parted at the first street corner. Instead of turning the corner and continuing his way, Hantlin looked | back toward the house he had just left, and slewly retraced his steps. | The street was now almost free of the ; crowd which had been a conspicuous ; element there both during the early | part of the forenoon, when the wedding | party was going to and fro, and still | more so after the news of the murder. There were still a few stragglers, in- j tent on gathering fragments of news, and it occurred to Hantlin, determined | as he was to pick up any stray thread that might enable him to unravel the mystery, to put a question here and ) there. . | The merest trifles often lead to extra- ! ordinary results, and he was particular- ly well aware that such was the case. Presently he stood still before a little hunchback, known by the name ot “Humpy,” and bade the boy, with a | pleasant smile, to black his boots. | The bootblack obeyed with alacrity, |for he and the detective were old friends, and the child liked the man, because the detective never called him “Humpy,” and when paying with silver coin, as often happened, never waited for the change. “Why, Jack, my lad,” said Hantlin, “these are new hunting grounds for you, eh? I never saw you on this beat before.” | “No, sir,” said the bootblack, brush- ing away until his face was scarle “The news o’ this big wedding brought | me here, an’ I had heaps 0’ luck. Nev- er brushed so many gents in one day since I b’en in the bizness. Crickey hasn't there b’en a row about here, | tho’!"” | “What about?” Hantlin asked. | “Why, the murder, o’coorse. At first | there was a stiddy stream up an’ down, | an’ down an’ up. Say, Mister, have they got the feller as did it yet?” “Not yet. You must have seen him go in or come out, Jacky, if you’ve been | here all day.” | stopping with his brush poised in the head, “how could I see him? Wish I had! It might be wuth somethin’ to me.” “That’s so. But, of course, you | wouldn't notice anyone in such a crowd. | Every one looks alike in a crowd,” | Hantlin continued, carelessly, placing ‘his other foot upon the bootblack’s. box | and glancing toward the house he had left. “So they do, mister, mostly,” Jacky | replied, making a vigorous attack on | the other boot. “But sometimes there's {a diff’rence. I seed a man to-day that |Pn never forget. Blest if I wouldn't | know his face ef I wur dyin’!” ; “Did he have such an ugly mug?” asked Hantlin, carelessly, and just to keep the boy talking, since it seemed to amuse him. “No, sir-ree! He was the handsom- jest feller I iver see in my life—too handsome fur a man. He’d oughter pbe’n a woman, he had. Such good looks is throwed away on a man.” Hantlin laughed, good-humoredly. he said. “Give me a picture of this beauty-man—a portrait in swords, yoy know—what one might call a pen-and- | ink sketch.” | “Well,” said Jacky, pausing in his | work, and throwing his head back and | gazing up to the sky for inspiration, “it | ain't easy, but I’ try. To begin, he | had yaller hair—just pure yaller—an’ it | glittered like gold, 'speciallly when the sun lit on it. It was long, too, an’ curly, an’ it fell down onhis shoulders. I dunno what color his eyes wur, ‘cause I | wa'nt slose enough; but I guess they | must ’a be’n blue, though they looked | kinder dark, an’ they flashed like stars all the way across to here.” “Where was he when you saw him?” asked the detective, interested. “Just right over there, a-standin’ on the top step,” returned Jacky, pointing | toward the imposing brown-stone man- sion. “What! That’s Mr. Grayson’s house —the scene of the murder!” exclaimed | the detective, sharply; and giving the | boy his whole attention. “In couse it it. That's where I saw him, an’ the good-lookin’ young woman | that stood alongside o ’him. She was quite a beauty, too, in her way, though she was orful pale, an’ her black eyes | glittered like fire/’ » “The French maid!” thought Hantlin, end a thrill, as if he had suddenly been | “Land o’ liberty!” exclaimed Jacky, | | air and his eyes ready to pop out of his | “Why, Jacky, you're getting critical,” | .| in catching it. | | was in the house or not, and he guessed | { | seen that yellow-haired gentleman. I | | any case, the murderer of Philip Gray- | is a treasure. | alongside of him, too. The description | | will he do? | ple the bereavement. touched With an electric wire ran along Mis nerves. But he controlled all appearance of excitement, and said, mockingly: “I guess you fell asleep and dreamed all this, Jacky.” “No, sir, you bet I didn’t! I see ’em both jest as plain as I see you a-stand- in ’there. She was a tall young woman, but she didn’t even reach to his shoul- der, for he wur oncommon tall an’ large—a grand figger of a man; an’ what with his handsome face an’ yaller hair, an’ them eyes o’ his, I couldn’t forget him in all my life; an’ as to dreamin’, I couldn't dream anythin’ half so handsom as that man or that young woman, either.” “About what time was it when you saw them?” Hantlin asked. “It was before 3, 'cos I counted the strokes next time the clock struck in the church over yonder; but eggsackly what time, I can’t say. It wasn’t long before—” “Just the time the French maid dis- appeared,’ ’thought Hantlin, hurriedly searching his pockets, and dropping a silver quarter into the bootblack’s hand. “That will do, Jacky; you've polished me up first-rate. I wish I could have } am a great admirer of beauty. I would | be willing to give this golden piece of money to get a look at the man you've described.” And he tossed up a five-dollar piece in the air, and caught it as it fell. Jacky’s eyes shone with admiration, both at the coin and Hanlan’s dexterity | “I might see the yaller-haired feller aga’n,” he said, eyeing the coin wist- fully. “When you do, ust let me have a good look at him, too, and you shall have this piece of gold to remember him by,” said Hantlin, dropping the coin into his vest pocket and turned away with a | nod and look quite intelligible to the | bootblack. “The French woman's lover,” thought | Hantlin, or the fair young woman's, | perhaps. The maid could scarcely have | such a remarkable man-for a lover. In son, and the man who was concealed in | the French girl's room. H’m! that boy | Not one boy in a hun- | dred would have observed the man be- cause of his beauty, and the woman | sets a mark on him at-once; but what | His first care will be to | have that golden hair cut short and, perhaps, covered with a wig; then he} will stain his emplexion and change his | costume. I must communicate with’) every barber in town. Pshaw! he won't go to a barber; the woman will go to him to-night, and act the part of hair- | cutter. I must have the house watched | and Mademoiselle Leonce shadowed. I} must do it myself, too. It’s fatal to leave these things to a secondary per- son. Oh, for the power to be in six | places at once, furnished with twenty | pairs of eyes!’” | That being obviously impossible, De- | tective Hantlin was fain to do the next | best thing, and that was te disguise | himself-beyond the possibility of recog- | nition. | This he proceeded to do as soon ts he | reached his rooms; and when he emerged from there into the street again, his own mother would not have recognized her son in the odd-looking country bumpkin into whom he had transformed himself. In the meantime he had telegraphed to every police station in the city to be on the lookout for a very tall, blonde man with magnificent long, yellow hair; also, a similar party with short, yellow hair; also, a very tall man with dark hair, presumably a wig. | “He can’t disguise his height, any- how,” thought the detective, ‘and that | of itself is unusual.” As soon as he had reached the street he directed his steps, in a rambling | manner, toward the scene of the morn- ing’s tragedy, and, after arriving there, proceeded to ring the bell, his first ob- | ject being to ascertain whether Leonce | that there would be ten chances to one | that she would answer the bell, for the simple reason that she was more anx- ious than any one else in the house, The event proved the correctness of this reasoning. Leonce opened the doo. and to. some trifling question of the de- tective, replied briefly and crossly, al- most closing the door in his face when he would have asked for further in- formation. “all right, my lady!” thought Hant- lin. “You are there; that’s all I want to know for the present. And those sharp, bright eyes of yours never recog- nized me, smart as you are—and what pright eyes they are, to be sure! They fairly haunt me. Wherever I look I see those great, dark, lustrous eyes dancing before me.” p Musing thus, Hantlin crossed the street, and took up a position where he could, unobserved, watch the house which was the center of interest for him, both from the principal entrance and the servants ‘entrance. He had al- ready taken the precaution to find out that there was no means of egress by any back way, or through the back street. Hour after hour the d<tective kept his position and watched. More than once a passing policeman observed him, and stopped to order him to ‘move on,” but a few magic words, uttered in a low tone, relieved him from further molest- | ation; and still he remained. He saw all sorts of persons come and go—un- dertakers, plying their glastly trade; a load of ice left at the area; a messen- ger boy; a telegraph boy; the boy from the grocer’s and the boy from the putcher's, for people must eat, and or- ders for food and drink go on, no mat- ter how ghastly the tragedy, how terri- At last, Hantlin observed an elderly- looking woman, somewhat bent and carrying a basket on her arm, come slowly up the area steps and out into ‘the street. ‘This ordinary and commonplace sight caused him unusual interest; from: be- hind his large eye-glasses he watched this elderly woman with a very keen glitter in his steel-blue eyes. She walked very siowly, in fact she almost hobbled, | prown hair and iarge, dark eyes. | us who the criminal is— and her form stooped like that of a very old person. Hantlin smiled grimly, and began to follow, very slowly in the same direction, Suddenly he hastened his footsteps, and something like a chuckie broke from his ips. The old woman was no longer hobbling painful- ly along, bent nearly double, but was" hastening, with head erect and the speed and grace of an antelope. “So, so, Mademoiselle Leonce!” thought Hantlin, keeping her well in view, “I thought you bent juct a trifle too much ard walked just a little too old!” Quickly as the detective walked, it needed his be8t speed to keep the wo- man in view, without getting neal enough to cause suspicion. . On she went, through street after street, away over to the east end ot th: city, and, after her, keeping her al- ways in sight, walked William Hant- lin, and,, strangely enough, the nove: pursuit gave him a new and singular pleasure, quite apart from tre pleasure cf tracking a mystery to its source, and all the time the dark, beautiful eyes of Leonce seemed to glow and burn before him, and to send a strange and hitherto unkaown sensation through all his being. By this time the woman had reached that portion of the city which was be- ginning to be known as the “Italian quarter,” and which was already well known as one of the lowest and vilest haunts of vice im the metropolis. She had just crossed a narrow street ang had paused for a moment, as if uncer- tain how to continue her way; »n@d Hantlin paused, also, until she should decide; when, at tre very moment she moved on again, there was a sudden movement ¢aused by a horse falling down as it rounded a eorner of the street; and when Hantlin had foreed himself throvgh the throng and found himself on the other side of the strect, the woman with the basket was sonc-— not a trace of her to be seen, any more than if the earth had opened and swa!- lowed her up. Rage, disappointment, chagrin, took possession of the baftled detective. “That woinan is fated to make a foot of me!” he muttered, in a voice of des- pair; and ther, turning away, he be- gen to retrace his steps, determined to pass the rest of the night thinking the whole matter over, and making careful notes of the entire cese, as far as it had gone. On the fellowing day, having carried out the above programme before going to bed, and havifig subsequently beea refreshed by several hours’ sleep, De- tective Hantlin felt encouraged to new eftcrt, and determined to unravel the mystery he had unier‘aken. He was just, preparing to so out when a card was brci ght to him, and the servant informed him that the lady was waiting down stairs in his private parlor. Glancing at the card, Hantlin read the name—“Mrs. Kate Martin’—ani hastened tc receive hv. Mrs. Martin was walking about the room in a state of suppressed excite- ment, which found vent in words the moment the detective entered. “T have brought this to you, sir,” she said, presenting the miniature of Cler- ice which she had found in Shirley Austin’s possession. “It is the missing miniature stolen from my _ brother. That there migh be no room for doubt, I have been to the artist who painted it, and he immediately recognized his own work.” She then, in the briefest manner, pro- ceeded to tell the detective all of the facts connected with it, and how she same to find it, concluding: “And now, sir, the murderer is in my house, and I think I can heip to make any further search unnecessary.” “Your information is most valuable, madam, and I thank you deeply. Now, a few words, if you please. This per- son—Shirley Austin—-he is a handsome, blonde man, with long golden hair?” “Not at all. He is somewhat dark— rather olive-complexioned, with dark- “Ah! then his hair is quite short, and artificially colored—or perhaps he wears a wig?” i “By no means. I have means of knowing for certain, as I applied ice and cold-water bandages to his head, under the doctor’s directions.” “At least he is uncommonly tall?” “A couple of inches above your owb height, I should say, sir.” “Then, madam, he is not the man we are im quest of. He may be in league with the murderer. The possession of this miniature is most suspicious, 1 grant you, and he may be able to tell Stay! When did you say the young man was taken ill at your house—at what hour?” “tm the evening: it was not yet dark.”? Mrs. Martin answered almost angrily. She wes furious because Hantlin did not at ence accept her theory as to Shirley Austin’s guilt. f= “Then it is quits certain he is not our wan!” the detective replied, with de- cision, remembering his experience of the night before. “I am_ infinitely obliged to you, madam, and I have lit- tle doubt but the finding of the minia- ture will aid us. And now TI must beg you will excuse me. I was going out when your card was brought to me.” Mrs. Martin with difficulty, controlled her annoyance; then, bidding the: de~ tective a civil “Good-morning!” hast ened away. “How she hates that lovely sister-in~ law of hers!” thought William Hantlin, looking about for his cane and gloves,.. and leisurely drawing cn the latter as he sauntered into the street. He had not reached the: first turning: when he felt his coat sleeve pulled, and a familiar voice exclaimed: “Hello, boss! I've somethin" to: show you!” “Why, Jacky!” Hantlin exclaimed, good-naturedly, as, turning, he met the gaze of Humpy, the bootblacl: “What is it, and where is it?’* “Lye airned the five-dollar gold- piece, mister, if you're a mind to keep your word. I'll show yer that han’som man ye wuz so fly to see!” “Have you scer bim again?” ex- claimed the detective, with suddem in- terest. “Yes, boss, seed ‘im’ agin. Knowed ‘tm the minit I set eyes ‘on ‘im, though he’s be'n an’ ha@ all that bootiful yal- ler hair eut short. But I knowed "im by his han’some mug, yer know.” “Lead on. See, here’s the gold-piece!”” said the detective, eagerly. “Just bring me to that beauty naan you speak of and it’s yours.” “ATL Hight, bess, come on!” said Humpy. + ‘And, accompanied by the detective, he haStened away. “(To Be Continued.) —_——— # In Demand. “pia you ever notice this paradox?” remarked the crusty summer boarder on the porch of the seashore botel. “What paradox?” inquired the other. “That the easy chairs are always the hardest to get?’"—Philadelphia, Press. Sy i ANOTHER AMERIOSM DUCHESS, Possibilities of Succession to the Ducat Title of Newcastle Although the echoes of the sensa- tional episode of ex-Lieutenant Put- nam Bradlee Strong and Lady Francis Hope, better ktown as May Yohe, have died away sin¢e the couple left San Francisco for Japan, there is much curiosity felt at Newport as to what action, if any, Lovd Francis Hope will take against his wife, and whether the Duke of Newcastle, who is unalterably opposed to divorce, will permit his brother to sue for divoree. As the duke holds the pursestrings, and Lord Francis has not a penny of his own, the former will naturally Wave every- thing to say on the subjest.. Added to this curiosity is a deal of speculation as to the chances of May’ Yolie’s esca- pade giving English society awother American duchess. The chanves of the Hon. Mrs. Charles Stapleton Pellam- Ciinton, who was Miss Lizzie dii Zerega of New York, becoming the diwhess of Newcastle would seem to be rather re- mote, but experience has proved! that heirs to English titles much further re- moved than is Mrs. Pelham-Clinton have reached them. Briefly summar- ized, Mrs. Pelham-Clinton’s chances: of becoming the duchess of Newcastle de- pend upon Lord Francis Hope's: di-- vorcing his present wife, not marrying again, or if he marries again, not:hav- ing any children by his second mar- viage. The present duke has no heir, and is not likely to have any. Lord Francis Hope is similarly situated as regards his present wife. The duke- dom, heirs failing to the present duke and Lord Francis, will pass, if he sur- vives the duke and Lord Francis, to the Hon. Charles Stapleton Pelham- Clinton, their first cousin. Mr. and Mrs. Pelham-Clinton have no children, have been married fifteen years, and are not likely to have any; so that, if they by chance should become the Duke and Duchess of Newcastle, the dukedom would pass im time to Mr. Charies Pelham-Clinton’s youngest brother, who is unmarried. It would Be a coincidence of the next Duchess of Newcastle would be an American, a compatriot of the Duchesses of Man- chester and Marlborough. The Hon. Charles Pelham-Clinton is well known im New York, where he lived for nearly ten years, amd where he married. He is am exceedingly tall, slightly built, swarthy and handsome man, and is now about 42 years old. During his life in New York he was actively en- gaged'in newspaper work, and was one of the best of the New York racing re porters.—New York Times. CHARTREUSE LIQUEURS. Right: of Pumveying Them Sold to a Syndicate. The Grande Chartreuse, I read, has sold the right of purveying its famous liquors to a syndicate. Hitherto a lay brother has been at the head of this business. Until comparatively recent times the signature of the Rev. Pere Garnier on the label was the guaranty the purchaser required of the authentic- ity of the contents of the flask which the gastronomer likes to find conve- nient at his elbow at the coffee and cigarette stage of his repast. Pere Garnier was am extremeiy shrewd man of business, and more than one law- suit bears evidence of the care with which he watched over the financial in- terests of his society, and the praise- worthy promptness he evinced in com- ing down on the falsifier and the forg- er. When lie died, not many years ago, his place was difficult to fill. Hence, perhebs, the present arrangement. Something ot the kind had already been under consideration. I hear the price the Chartreuse asked is put at 80,000,000 franes. There are four va- rieties- of the liquor, though’ only two are familiar. There is the Elixir, which was onmee to be bought on the spot in wood-cased bottles at the equiv- alent of four-and-nine. There is the Liquor Verte, in the pint-and-a-half bottle, the Iocal charge for which was three-and-eight, and the charge in London, say, four times that figure. There is the Liquer Jaune, less potent, which has cost me two-and-six the reg- ulation ffask, in the Chartreuse lodge. And there is the Liquer Blanche, oth- rwise the “Balm of the Chartreuse,’” hicty used to be locally retailed at the same price as the Liquer Verte. Some fifty plants, seeds and flowers, you are to understand, go tq the compilation-of | hese delectable drifts, the chief be the first shoots of the pine, mountaim| pink, mint, balm, thyme, angelica-and! wormwood. There is, in fact, a» geod’ deal more absinthe in green Chartreuse>| than is commonly supposed—London|’ Pall Malt? Gazette. California’s Great Prane Crop., In California the prune industry has: made phenomenal strides within the} past few years. Twenty years ago itis: questionable if there existed a singie: prune tree in the whole of that: state; as the largest producer of prunes im the world. At present about 73,000: acres are given ovet to the cultivation of prunes, and last year’s prune ¢rop amounted to 150,000,000 pounds: Dur- ing the harvesting thousands of wom- en leave their domestic duties (taking with them their families) to engage actively in the sheds of the ranchers, cutting the fruit’ for drying after the men have collected it from the trees. Three Fruit Frees in One. There is a remarkable tree in Lou- isiana, Mo. The body o. the tree, with a few of its branches, is apricot, whi. bther branches thereon are peach, and stil others plum. The three different kinds of fruit have been gathered from it tus year. t ® Berlin has been fixed at 9% miles an hour whereas now California is recognized’ | The official speed for automobiles in | There te Something in Cwxctt, ‘While most stceessful men ere. in< clined to credit their achievements wholly to industry, frugality an@ de- termination, leaving out chance or hick altogether, there can be no doubt that some men are more favorable in op~ portunities than others. At any rate, there is some consolation in this view of the earnest man who has not made waht the world calls a success. It should iead him to take life more con- tentedly and be satisfied to accept the issue, after having done his besat.—In- dianapolis Journal. A Juvenile Bunko Man. Tomnty rose, went to the cupboard, minutes. He seemed to be engaged with some deep problem. “Papa,” be said. 4 “Well? “Do unto others as you would hate others do. unto you’—that’s the Golden Rule, isn’t it, papa?” “Yes, my son.” “And it’s puffickly right to follow the Golden Rule, isn’t it, papa?” “Yes, indeed.” Tommyrose, went to the cupboard, and returned with a knife and a large apple pie. The latter he placed before his astonished sire witlr gveat solem- nity. “Eat it, papa,’ "he said!—Sam Francis- co Bulletin. A Happy Boy. @idenburg, Ill., Sept. 2d:—The doc- tors all failed in the case of little thir- teen-year-old Willie Kellj. wlio: suffered with acute Rheumatism: For over three months tie poor little fellow suffered excruciating torture. His father, who had done everything: he could think of, saw anew Rhewma- tism Remedy advertised-Dodd's: Kid- ney Pills. He bought some; and soom hislittle son showed signs: of improve- ment. Three boxes cured! him com~ pletely, and he has not a syinptom of Rheumatism ieft. ‘This miraculous cure of’a case whicln had been given up by the physicians hass electrified Madison County, and Dodd’s Kidney Pills are a much-taiked— of ‘mediirine. * An Alibi, “Has my Willie been swimming: Here- to-day?” asked Willie’s angry father. “No, sir,” replied the biggest boy im the-water. “Are you sure?” “Sure. Why, it was as much as we could’ do to keep him from drownin’, but we got him out, all right. He's restin’ over there in the bushes-now’— Philadelphia Press. ‘Texas Oil As Fuet. Average producing well at’ Beau~ mont, .Tex., pours ‘forth 70,000 barrels: of oil each day. Same at 20 cents per barrel ‘gives owner $14,000, or, annual- ly, $5,110,000. Such figures have~startled’ the world, but they remain undisputed facts< nevertheless. Now figure out your owm profit’ on the following sure facts: Ome hundred dollars invested in an oil company capitalized at’ $300,000, owning ‘valuable oil properties~adjoin- ing these great wells. If you are blind- folded ‘to. facts then figures are imma- terial.’ Small capitalization means-im- mense returns to stockholders: The United ‘States Fuel Oil company; the new’ Minnesota home concern, has: placed ‘om sale a small portion of*its: guarantee@ non-assessable, futly-paid stock at’ the opening bedrock first- issue price of Four.cents per share? $10" buys 250 shares, $20 buys 500 shares; $40 buys. 1,000 shares, $100 buys 2,500 shares. This amount could make you rich; this is not impossible, and some day you wilt be startled. Should High Island some in every share would’ sell above $2: This local will not appear again. Send all remittances and letters. at once to the United States: Fuei Oil company, Nos. 144-146 Endicott; Build- ing, St. Puul, Minnesota. Be sure and mention this paper when: you write. The Potomac river is only 500: miles: long, am? its lower course is rather am: estuary than a stream. . St. _ Jacobs Oil | beats all records and always-will.. Cures PISO'S C URE git CONSUMPTION ra - oe oneaiecnnceeenenanipenivetionss