Grand Rapids Herald-Review Newspaper, October 26, 1901, Page 3

~~ SA Fatal. men lDarriage. Rn. CHAPTER XXIH—(Continued’ “Dull, stupid that I am, not to have understood it from the first,’ and she began looking for the slip of paper, which she found readily cnough, for it had merely, dropped at her feet It contained but three wo name of an up-town park whe had often walked with Anthony Caste but that and the word “to-morrow,” spoken by the messenger, were enough to ng back the roses to Letty’s cheeks and the luster to her ey ad on air that was s she/ skimmed She seemed to tr distilled from flower 1 named for the next 1 Letty had been a ypointed place before d; but she would to be disappointed. her reward-—he had velosed her in sun+ emed to devour nd clasped hers, 2 beside her, he —my Ittle lovely darlin thousand times Anthony! where have you | ked, between leughing | too cruel of you. | nm my heart!” net even | And then, my | ght go at a and cr ment’s i I will not wa rupted Letty, too much € member that she had been unha py. “But tell me, Anthony, where have you been, the “Across the ocean, ready dead when I arr only to pay the last tribute of respect, and, taking the rexi steamer, flew back on the wings of love to my dearest girl!” “Oh, Anthony, then I may ma now? There is no longer for secrecy?” “You will let me have ihat pleasure,” Castellani returned, “and soon. Mean- time, I have thought of nothing but you. Why do you look at me, dearest? Ah, you wonder that I am_ not in mourning for my aunt! I am, my love, only I could not wear sad-coiored vest- ments on this happy day, when I was once more to meet you and Pold you to my heart. But you have not shared that feeling. You are all in black, Let- y aunt was el- tell mam- any cause ty?” “Yes; I—I lost my uncie since I last saw you, Anthony,” Letty answe-ed, and quickly changed the subject. Since her husband had such a dislike to mourning and sadness. felt in- stinctively that any partic} ing the tragedy in her family would be too shocking to speak of then, “But you will go with me now, dear- est, to see mamma?” she added, quick- ly, returning to the subject that was very near her heart. “Oh, Atthony, I am so proud of you—I love you so very much—you can’t wonder that I long to proclaim to all the world how happy I own am in being your wife! “Patience, carina—patience,” mur- mured the marquis, in his scftest tone “A few days more is all I ask of you. But come—I have already prepared a charming little nest for my bird. Come —that I may show it to you.” They rose, and drawing her hand through his arm, the marquis led Letty toward Fifth avenue. Humpy Jack, who had finished pol- fishing the last customer's boots, loiter- ed slowly after them; and Hantlin, the detective, cursing the disguise he had adopted, since it hampered his move- ments, hobbled along with suspicious agility after the boctblack. He rad not been near encugh to hear a word that had passed between Letty and the Marquis del Castellani; but he saw plainly that they were lovers, ana he would have hazarded anything short of discovery to have been able to follow hem and listen to their conversation. This he felt to be impossible, for the marquis had too keen an eye not to ob- serve any suspicious quickness of gait on the part of a hobbling and time- ‘worn old tramp, such as the detective was now personating. Hantlin, would, however, hazard a word with Humpy Jack as he passed by; and as he now overtook the boy, he whispered, rapidly: “Don't lose sight of them, if it takes every cent of the five dollars. Keep your eve on them, wherever they 89. and I’ll give you three more fives to keep that Gne company.” At first sound of the tramp’s voice Jacky had turned with an easy flow of impudence ready; but, meeting the clear, bright eye that looked out from its bleary surroundings, the words died on his lips. “Good Lordy!” he muttered, in ad- miring astonishment, as he recognized the detective. “Darned ef you don’t take the cake, mister! All right, boss; gee you later!” And swinging his blacking box, he quickened his steps, and was soon close to the pair whom he was dogging. The tramp hobbled slowly aféng until he had turned the next Street corner, and then, careless of attracting atten- tion, hurried on in the direction of his lodging house. CHAPTER XXIII. The Power of Jealousy. Hantlin’s first act on reaching his own room was to transform himself from a miserable tramp into a dapper young swell—a change which was ef- fected with the ease and quickness of an experienzed actor, for he had thor- oughly studied the art of “making up” his face and general appearance to suit the part he designed to impersonate. All the time he was so engaged his thoughts were busy, and at times he thought himself on the right track—at others he feared he was being led astray, wilfully or otherwise, by the pootblack’s description of a very re- tmarkable looking man. _ Suppose, as had already occurred to ELIZABETH CAMPBELL. Cand him, that Jack had not really seen this man on the steps of Philip Grayson’s house—why, then, the fellow was no lover of Leonce, nor of her mistress an@ had, probably, nothing to do with the murder, but was merely amusing himself courting a pretty girl! In that case, What a fool to spend time thus, following up a wrong clue, while the real murderer walked the streets in safety. On the other hand, if this man, the Marquis del Castellani, was, indeea, the man sought for, what was the se- cret of his apparently confidential in- timacy with Philip Grayson’s niece? The affair was becoming more ana more complicated, or else it was a wrong scent entirely. The more the dective thought over the matter the less light was shed upon it. He longed for Jacky’s return, and determined to be guided by whatever information the boy brought him. Then he fell into a despondent frame of mind, as clever people are very apt to do when the nervous system is taxed too ", and told himself he had adopted a wrong calling—he had really no talent for the business of a detect- ive, the powers of his mind seemed to be leaving him, and above everything beyond everyth the beautiful eyes of a dark, lovely woman seemed | to shine on him, coming between him and all that had once been of interest to him. cf “Yes, T love her,” he thought. “She haunts me like a visicn. For her sake I could be mad and desperate like oth- er men—for her sake I could be great and noble, and for het sake I will go mad and die unless I can win her.” He flung himself desperately on the nearest chair, and bowed his head de- jectedly on his hands. At the same moment a_ peculiar sound, like the subdued cry of a cat- bird, was audible under his window. It was the signal agreed upon some time before to announce Jacky’s pres ence on any occasion when he wished to see his employer. Hantlin jumped up and rang the bell. “He's back scon; he must have some thought. “Come in!” to the servant who knocked. “Send the boy-— a bootblack—who is outside in the street, directly to me.” . The young man, who understood the detective’s business and was accus- tomed to prompt obedience, hastened to obey; and in a few moments, Jacky entered, looking very crestfallen. After a slight whistle of surprise at the detective’s appearance, though he was beginning to get accustomed to his protean changes, he said, dejected- ly “Guess I'll ‘arn no more shiners from you, boss; but I couldn’t help it. I fol- lered ’em close, but they took the L train for Harlem, an’ this blamed leg o’ mine give a turn jest’s IT was goin’ through the gate, an’ I feli. ‘Fore I could git up the strain was off, an’ they | wes gone afore my eyes.” “Thunder and lightning!” exclaimed Hantlin, in a tone of desperation. It was wholly unlike the cool and un- demonstrative manner he had so long cultivated, to give such a sign of im- patience and disappointment, and in the next moment he had subdued all outward traces of his feelings. “Tf this man really is the criminal T am after,” he thought, “it must be the devil protects him. I never had such ill-luck with any case in my life. Con- found it all, I will gve him yet!” He set his teeth together with a de- termined click, and his steel-blue eyes emitted a pale, fiery gleam that made Humpy Jack feel very uncomfortable. “Don’t look like that, boss!’ the boy said. “Blest if I wouldn't ruther a’ broke that darned old les than disap~ p’inted yer. But I'll find ’em yet an’ track ‘em home. I’m a’most all over this ’ere metropolis in the course o’ th’ day.” “That's right, Jacky,” said Hantlin; “pluck up your spirit. Better luck next time. What’s that in your hand?” “Somethin’ the gent dropped in his hurry. I told the guard TI was a-hur- ryin’ to give it to him, but he wouldn't believe me; an’ then IT run away with it, ’cos he wanted to take it hisself.” The boy held out a delicate white handkerchief as he spoke. plain, hemstitched border, but unusu- ally fine, and, from its size, Hantlin saw that it was a man’s handkerchief. He took it, and glanced quickly at the several corners. In one was writ- ten the name, “Leonce A. Beaupre.” An electric shock seemed to pass from his hand to his heart. He clutched the handkerchief in a tight grasp. “You may go, now, Jacky,” he said, kindly. “I'll keep this. Tf you see that man again, keep your eye on him, and come and tell me when you think there is anything interesting.” Jacky had observed the tightened grasp on the handkerchief, and won- dered; but he obeyed in silence, . de- termined to find some way of earning the promised “shiners.” Hantlin turned the key in the door and dropped into a chair in front of the writing desk, at which he often worked out plans, real and imaginary, of his various “cases.” He used to say it gave him ideas and helped him in following out a clue. He spread out the handkerchief be- fore him, and his gaze became fastened 4 as if fascinated, on the name in the It was a | corner. “Her lover!” he mused. “Her lover —not that of her mistress—or why does he carry about a handkerchief bearing her name? Is he the murderer, then, or was his presence a mere coinci- dence? I must know. If that man killed Philip Grayson, mine shall be the hand to give him up to justice—I swear it! Does she love him? But why do I ask? It is such men' as he that turn angels into devils; and my was frozen with fear when he was in the house, and triumphant when she had got him safe out of it. She loves’ him—she loves him!” William Hantlin's heart sickened at the thought, for he remembered the man’s wonderful beauty, and he felt, with a cold chill of misery creeping over him, that he could not hope to win a woman whose heart was already occupied by such a rival. “Though he is already false to her, and bas been, no doubt, a dozen times besides, yet women are strange crea- tures. They cling to a man who com- mits a murder, but if he makes love to another pretty woman, ho! ho! that is quite another matter, and very much worse than killing someone now and then. “Pshaw! I’m a fool. The handker~ chief means nothing. He may have been visiting Mrs. Grayson, and put it in his pocket by mistake.” But that evening he watched Mrs. Grayson’s house, and when Leonce emerged from it—as she did about 7 o’clock—he dogged her footsteps for two hours, and had the satisfaction of seeing her match some lace at a cross town store and buy several spools of sewing silk. ‘ And though he watcned the house after she returned until every light was out, he saw no more of her that nigh. On the next day Humpy Jack in- formed him that the marquis had re- turned to his hotel, late in the even- ing, alone. For the rest of the evening and late into the night Hantlin then shadowed Castellani, and learned nothing more than that the "man was a desperate gambler, and, when the mood was on him, would have wagered his soul on a cast—if it had not been lost already. Several days passed thus, and Hant- lin was still without evidence of a na- ture to warrant him in causing the ar- rest of the Marquis del Castellani, al- though his moral conviction on the subject amounted to certainty, He managed to follow the man about almost everywhere now. He had con- ceived a bitter personal hate against this foreigner, augmented for the jeal- ousy he felt for the man as a rival, and this had so sharpened his naturally- keen faculties that he was enabled to invent a dozen new ways of dogging and watching. But on one occasion had he managed to find Castellani and Leonce together. This gave him both pleasure and dis- appointment—the latter, because lessened his chance of securing evi- dence of guilt; and the former be- cause it spared him the jealous agony of seeing any exhibition of Leonce’s love for the marquis. More than once he had watched the meetings with Letty Martin. They were always in public, and. the couple always parted, at the end of their in- terview, in the same place where they met; and once he had been near enough to hear the girl address the man as her husband. Her husband! Could it be true? And how would Leonce bear such treachery? he asked himself. But a wild hope todk possession of him at the same moment, ‘and his thoughts turned longingly toward the woman he now loved with a resistiess passion—a passion that fed on itself, and was increased by the mystery and uncertainty surrounding it. That day he was obliged to go to a neighboring city, on an imperative or- der from his chief, to whom he had his return he found that there was an not yet confided his suspicions in re- gard to the Italian marquis, and upon urgent message from Mrs. Grayson in regard to a discovery she had made concerning the recent tragedy in the house. Hantlin had little cnough confidence in the importance of any discovery that Mrs. Grayson had made. Sometimes he was inclined to doubt whether shé wished to make any such discovery put he undestood in a moment that svch a call would bring him face te face with Leonce, and give nim an op- fortunity to speak with the French meid and gaze into her eyes, and thiz he had not dared to do in all his spy- ing and watching upon her. He was speedily on his way to Mrs Grayson’s and he was the visitor whom Susan admitted at the moment she was abcut to open the door for Mrs. Martin. They looked at each dther sharply, the detective and the lady, and then, with a slight bow, proceeded on their separate ways, Mrs. Martin to return te her ewn home, with’ plenty to think of, by the way, and Detective Hantlin to wait in the room the other visitor had ivst left until the appearance cf Mrs. Gravson. Clarice did not keep him long wait- ing. She entered the room almost im- mediately, and the detective was ine stantly struck with the change in her, both as to manner and appearance, €he was no longer bowed beneath the weight of anxiety regarding Shir- ley Austin. She was now possessed ot proof of his innocence, which in her heart she had never doubted, notwith+ standing her father’s language and other circumstantial evidence, and she felt assured that he still loved her, for otherwise he would not have sought her out. She was still in heavy mourning, but it was the only sign of woe about her. Her face was radiant; excitement and hope had brought ‘the brightest roses to her cheeks, and her eyes were bright and blowing with the determination to free her lover from all shadow of sus picion, and then reward him for his. long and constant devotion to her. She closed the door carefully, greeted Hantlin and seated herself at a littl> distance. ‘Then, in a voice too low to be over- heard by listeners, if any were about, but clear and distinct, she told him, in rapid words, the chief facts of the story she had heard from Leonce. From the moment when she men- tioned the French girl and the mar- quis, Hantlin listened as ‘f his life hung upon her words. Prepared as he was, by past circum- stances, for much that he hear, it felt like the thrust of a knife into his heart to hear, in so many words, how the girl had loved the man—how fhe was still so infatuated that his very rres- ence overpowered her. For a moment ie ‘seemei over- whelmed; but Clarice, little guessing the nature of his feelings, unconszious- “ty aroused him, own eyes saw her terror for him. She| “3 don’t think she leves the -nonster ity: now,” she concluded. “I am sure she dees not. But she fears him, and sh¢ Would shield him from the conse- quences of his crimes becaus2 he is the father of her child. My heart bleeds for the unfortunate woman; but the man she would protect is the murcerer of my husband, and’—she hesitated for a moment; then a lovely blush overspread her face as she added— “end his crime stands between ine and the only man T have ever loved. I would be a criminal myself if I with- held the knowledge that has come to me. The guilty must be punisned end the innocent must have right and just- ive.” uu are right, madam,” safi@ Hant- rising and speaking in low and quiet tones, that showed the :trength solution waich swayed him. “From what you tell me, I have no further doubt 2s to this man’s guilt, from information otherwise received. I had already suspected him, and have been watching him.” “Then you know where to find him?” asked Clarice, with jeyful excitement. “T did know yesterday,’ returned Hantlir. “My absence when your message arrived was unfortunate. Le- once has hud many hours the start of us, and no doubt she has made good use of them in Castellani’s behail. Rely on me to find the man, nowever wherever he may be. Gcod-morning, Mrs. Grayson.” Hantlin directed his steps, straight end swift, to the door of the hotel where he had first seen the Italian rarquis. He entered at once, and boldly de- manded to be shown to the room of the Italian nobleman. i The clerk, who recognized nim, an- swered him civilly: stay terday, ng here now. sir; he left us yes- quite suddenly’!’ CHAPTER XXIV. Bertha’s Despair. expected, yet he was none the less dis- appointed. But not the quiver of an eyelash displayed his feelings. well-affected carelessness, he said: “I’m sorry to have missed him. 1 had business with the gentleman, even more important to him than to me. But. perhaps you can give me some in- formation that will enable me to find him?” | “Well, no; sorry I can’t oblige you,” returned the clerk, in a confidential tone. “Fact is, the gentleman's de- parture was suspiciously sudden; but, as his bill was paid up all right, of course, no one had a right to object. But I just had the curiosity to look on his trunks myself, and there wasn’t a Scrap of address on ’em; and the car- riage—a very elegant one—was driven by an Italian, who either didn’t under- stand English or didn’t choose to. As a last chance, I asked the marquis where we should send letters, or any- thing of that sort, in case they ar- rived; but he just said: ‘Never mind all that; possibly he’d be back within a week—and to keep everything until called for.’ So you see that’s absolute- ly all I could find out on the subject.” Hantlin thanked the obliging clerk, whose curiosity at least proved to him that the Italian had been warned to make a sudden departure, and, as he turned away, he remarked, casually: “Some lady in the secret, no doubt. Leoks a little mysterious.” “Just so,” returned the clerk, with a Paul Pry alacrity. “That’s what I thought myself, for I saw him in con- versation with a yeung woman but 4 shcrt while before he packed his trunks—and he packed them himself, too.” > “What?” exclaimed Hantlin, in af- fected surprise. “Did the young lady actually follow him to the hotel?” “Well, to my way of thinking, she looked more like the lady’s maid, and they spoke in French; she was a pow- erfully handsome-looking girl; eyes black as night and flashing like dia- monds, and a lovely figure, but pale as marble—"” Hartlin turned sharply away, as he recognized Leonce from this descrip- tion; and then, with a polite word of thanks, walked rapidly across the street. “Wretched girl! How she loves him!” he thought. ‘Where is she now? With him, no doubt. Villain! monster! But I'll have him yet, if it costs me my life. Oh, Lord, how I love that woman! I never thought I could be overthrown like this. But every man’s time must come, I suppose, and I couldn’t escape the general fate.” As he hurried rapidly forward, he would have brushed against Mrs. Mar- tin, had not that iady stepped reso- lutely in front of him and placed her hand on his shoulder. She had been watching for him when he left Mrs. Grayson, but at some distance from the house; and when he came out he had taken an opposite direction so rap- idly that she found it impossible ‘to overtake him. She followed, however, and just managed to keep him in sight until he entered the hotel, and then she had to wait again, but at some dis- tance, as before, because she was de- sirous not to attract attention. And again he disappointed her by starting off at a rapid pace in an opposite di- rection. It was useless to hope to overtake him, so she whisked around the corner, in the hope of intersecting his way, and and just managed to head him off as he turned into the next block. “T have been trying to meet you, Mr. Hantlin,” she said, directly. ‘On leav- ing my poor brother’s hous this morn- ing, I felt that I must try to learn whether you had yet got any clue to the murderer, and, considering my re- jJationship and my natural anxiety, T hope you will not- refuse to answer met , “Madam,” replied the detective, “I have every right to refuse any inform- ation on such subjects except to my chief; but I appreciate your feelings, and I am anxious to satisfy you as far as I may. Trusting that you will be entirely secret on the subject, I will say that I have a clue.” “Ah! you have spoken with Mrs. Graysor, then?” asked Mrs. Martin, eagerly. She was determined, on general prin- ciples, to learn all she could abou. Clarice. information. “T wil only say that I have learned more from Mrs. G! » than she has” from me,” he answered, | “The Marquis del CasteYani is not ; It was just the answer Hantlin had | | With But Hantlin gave: her scanty |. “The French waiting maid knew all, then?” “I can answer no more, madam,” re turned Hantlin. While he had been speaking he had rapidly calculated the chance of learn ing from Mrs. Martin something con- cerning her daughter's lover; but he as rapidly concluded that it was use~ less to try to find out anythfng from her regarding the marquis—either she knew nothing of Letty’s intirnacy with the man, and, therefore, could give no information; or, if she knew, it was to her interest to shield the man if he had really married her daughter. With a brief excuse for terminating the interview, he hurried abruptly away, leaving Mrs. Martin thoroughly mystified. She called a carriage from the near- est stand and was driven home. The sight of Bertha’s face, as the gitl opened the door for her, struck terroi to her heart. “What's the matter, child? Has anything happened?” she asked, turns ing almost as pale as her daughter. “Come to your room, mamma,” said the girl, faintly, as she preceded her mother up Stair “J will tell you. Oh, God help me! My heart is broken; my heart is broken!” } Mrs. Martin followed, in miserable silence, passing her arm about the girl’s shrinking figure, for Bertha ap- peared scarcely able to support her own weight. be child,” she said, as they en- tered the room, “what new misfortune’ has happened?” “He has gone—gone forever! I will never see him again!" sobbed Bertha, as she sank on the sofa and burst into piteous tears, “He? Whom? Do you mean—' Shirley, of course,” said the girl, al- mos impatiently. “I mean Shirley Austin, mother. Who elise in all the world is there to me?” . (To Be Continecd.) Accepting the Challenge. It may be legend, but it is legend, that might be and should be true. When Dymoke, the king’s (George III.’s) champion, rode, in accordance with the antique usage, along to West- minster hail, and flung his glove down in challenge to anyone who dared con- test his master’s right to the throne ot England, it is said that someore dart- ed out from the crowd, picked up the glove, slipped back into the press, and disappeared, without being stopped or discovered. According to one version of the incident, it was a woman who did the deed; according to another, it was Charles Edward himself, the young Pretender—now no longer so very young—who made this last pro- test on behalf of his lost fortunes and his fallen house. . . . If it pleased the poor Pretender to visit, like a pre- mature ghost, the city and the scenes associated with his house and its splendor and awful tragedies, he did so untroubled and unharmed. It was a #cast of the dice in fortune’s fingers, and Charles Edward would have been in Westminster hali and had a cham- pion to assert his right—‘History of the Four Georges and of William IV.” Justin McCart Here’s a Costly Coffin. A very beautiful burial casket, and one akout as costly, too, as is ever made, even in these days of lavish ex~ penditure, is one now shown in the warerccms of a big manufacturing | concern in this city. This casket is of mahcgany, of a deep, dark red, its col- oring lke that of some fine svecimen of old mahogany furniture. The cor- | ners of the casket itself and the cor- ners of the casket lid and the escutch- eon on the top of the lid and the hand rails along the sides and upon the ends of the casket are richly carved. The carving upon this casket occu- pied the entire time of an expert for nearly four months; there was paid out for the carving alone within less than $15 of $500. In the getting out and preparing of the material of which the casket is made, in the cabinet work upon it and the various details of its construction there have been employed upon it, from first to last, half a doz- en or mcre men, and the total time oc- cupied in its construction was seven months. It is an admirable specimen of workmafiship, the price of which is 2,500.—New York Sun Money and Microbes. The Ordinary Mortal recoiled in hor- ror. “There are microbes in money!” he shrieked. “And vice versa,” remarked the med- ical man, to himself, for it was by no means lost upon him that his worldly Frosperity grew, pari pas-u, the germ theory impressed itself more deeply up- on the popular fancy.—Detroit Journal. Watch Was Safe. Fond Mother—John, do look at that child! He has your watch in his mouth and will swallow it! John (who is a bachelor brother-in- law and very fond of babies)—Oh, don’t be the least alarmed.’ I have hold of the chain, and it can’t go far.—Tit- Bits. Wanted to Forget. Tommy—Paw, what relation is my gran'maw t’ you? Father—She’s mother-in-law, my her again ‘while she is here.—Ohio State Journal. The Single Thought. ‘Ah!” sighed the fond mother, souls with but a single thought. “Yes,” echoed pater familias, ‘and | less than one dolar. I don’t know how they're going to make it, Mary, urless —er—perhaps that single thought they have got is that rapa’s going to put ug for two.""—Denver Times. “two An Artist's Success, “Bjones, the artist, is the luckiest man I have ever seen.” “What’s up; has he done something | great?” ‘ “Great! Haven’t you heard about his latest werk of art? Why, he drew three aces to a pair of kings last night.”—Denver Times. ‘Wait Till 1903. “Did you ever notice what a supercil- fous expression Upnose has?” “Yes He looks like a Chicago man visiting the Buffalo exposition.”—De- :troit Journal. Accurate Description, “What kind of a cover is this on your umbrella?” said the inquisitive friend. “Well,” answered. the unblushing per- son, “judging by the way it came into my possession, and the way it wilt probably depart, I should call it a changeable silk.”—Exchange. An Emphatic Opinion. Bridget O’Hoolehan (rezding)—Sure, the paper says a pacemaker got his head and collar bone bhroken at a bi- cycle race to-day. O’Hoolahan (emphatically)—V vb’ gob, ony mon deserves to hov his head smashed who is fool enough to be @ pacemaker, an’ interfere wid a good foight!—Brooklyn Eagle. His Answ “Pa,” said Willie, looking up from his “what’s the ‘Spirit of 76," any- his pa r guess that’s any twenty-five- whisky.”—Philadelphia Pre: Are You Using All 's Foot-Ease? It is the only cure for Swollen, Smarting, Burning, Sweating Feet, Corns and Bunions. Ask for Allen's Foot-Ease, a powder to be shaken into the shoes. At all Druggists’ and Shoe Stores, 25c. Sample sent FREE. dress Allen S. Olmsted, Le Roy, N. ¥. More Serious. “T see that the anarchistic Italians have been thinking of blowing up the consul at New York. “Great Macaroni! going to blow him up with “Dynamite.” “Whew! I thought it might be a bel- lows!”—Cl land Piain Dealer. are they Evidence. sir; 1f you ence live in you will never live any- Parke—Ye: the ccunir where el; Lan there. You must have bought a house Detroit Free Press. How’s This? We offer One Hundred Doilat case of Catarrh that cannot be Catarrb Cure. FP. J. CHE We, the unde a 3 Cheney for the las ears and believe him perfectly honorable in all business transactions and financially able to carry out any obliga- tions made by their firm. West & Truax, Wholesale Druggists,.Toledo, O.; Walding, Kinnan & Marvin, Wholesale Druggists. Toledo, Ohio. Hall's Catarrh Cure is taken internally, act- ing directly upon the blood and mucoussurfaces of the system. Testimoniais sent free. Price We per bottle. Sold by all druggists. Hall's Family Pills are the best. ward forany red by Hall’t Killed for Fair. “Your face is very familiar,” said the congressman, a3 he shook the calloused hand of a constituent, “but I reaily can’t reeall your name.” “I don’t wonder a bit at that,” said the caller. “It's all the fault of that dum fool editor of our’n. The time we had our last county fair, he went an’ printed my picter with Bill Perkins’ name under it.”—Cleveland Plain Deai- er.—Cleveland Plain Dealer. + Nor Go West? Beek “In order to be great or famous,” said the ambitious youth, “it is not neces- sary to mingle in thé haunts of pemp or attract the patronage of the great. Look at Diogenes. He lived his simp!t2 life and made a success of it.”* “Yes,” answered the Practical Per- son. “But I doubt if we would ever have heard a word about Diogenes if Alexander the Great had not stopped one day to pat him on the back.” Washington Star. Brooklyn, N. Y., Oct. 4.—People who have headaches know what they are. and those who take Garfield Headache Pow- ders know how completely and how quick- ly they can be cured. This remedy is pe- culiarly adapted to the needs of neryvuus wemen, New Discipline. “Yes, I have him trained fine. He obeys my every word. When I take a walk I just say: “Hee, will you.come along, cr won't you?” And he either does or he doesn’t’’—Philadelphia Press. Makes a Difference Whose. “I beg your pardon, madam, but you are sitting on :ny hat.” “Oh, pray excus2 me; I thought it was my husband’s.”—-Tit-Bits. The Hour Was Late. “Now, McBrane has more good sense than any one I know,” continued Mr. Staylate. “I tell you, he’s the coming: man.” “Tf he has all the sense you say,” re- marked Mis Peppery, making an effort »to suppress a yawn, “I should think he would be the going man at this hour.” +—Philadelphia Press. Some Distinction in That. She—Dont’ let my refusal of your pro- posal embitter you, Mr. Simpkins. He—Oh, not at all. After all, it is something to have been rejected by @ girl who owns a $500 dog.—Detroit Free Press. Her First Real Tragedy. Daughter (sobbing)—I got angry with Jack and threw a teacup at his head. Mother—Yes, poor child! And Irn wager you haven’t a bottle of china cement in the house.—Stray Stories. Love may be blind, but in financial matters it has a sensitive touch. ‘Where there is a will there is always a lot of lawyers in the way. Variety may be the spice of life, but young man; now, don’t remind me of | most men seem to prefer cloves. .Good humor ‘is the blue sky in which the stars of talent brightly shine.