Grand Rapids Herald-Review Newspaper, February 1, 1902, Page 6

——} 000-00:0-00-0000-0 TESTS ESET SY J Rickerby’s ra 3 cxnsnashe eae TOM GALLON Coneeerrrrereerereeeee) 0-0-0-0-0-0-00-0-00-0-0 0-0-0:0-000-0:0 CHAPTER XII. Mrs. Reeks Sits Up Late. Mrs. Reeks was growing suspicious. fn truth, she was a lady given to that form of excitement pretty frequently; perhaps it served to relieve the monot- ony of a somewhat drab existence. Whatever dreams Mrs. Reeks might once have cherished in regard to Mr. Reeks, or to life in g2neral, had long since been dissipated, and now only re- turned, in a sort of washed-out form, en the occasion of a hot supper, when fuck happened to come in the way of Mr. Reek3, or when, from the pit of a theater, she saw the “Might- Wave-Been” behind the footlights and eenewed her youth. She was a good woman, and a kindly one; but fate had ot treated her well, and she had fearned to expect little except buffets But she vinned eheap and knock-out blows. her faith to Mr. Reeks, and was moder- ately happy. Now, when things looked blackest, and a big cloud of debt loomed heavy above her, there had come a gleam of hope. This husbard, in whom she had mever ceased to believe, was, by the sheer power of his intellect and his per- ecnali to secure at least £100. Nay, more—was it not possible that he might permanently take the place of this man who had disappeared; that he might rise to something even more lucrative than either of*them imagined? In the full flush of glorious expectation, Mrs. Reeks sent the small servant out for g@omething hot, and prepared to make herself comfortable, pending the tri- umphant return of Mr. Reeks. Then gome dim touch of the old romance «came back to the poor, commonplace ‘woman, and she dreamed a dream. She thought that the days of squalid e@truggling in Camden town were over; that a newer and a brighter world had opened for them both, and that they @a‘led out to it over a sunlit sea. She had no notion where they were going, except that she was confident in the strength and power of some promise which had been made to her. She fnew with absolute certaint that trcubulous times were cver and done with. She was floating out on a broad, pen sea, on the way to a new life, un- der happy conditions. Then the vessel on which she sailed began to rock and plunge, and Mrs. Reeks, starting awake, found herself nodding in her chair—th2 Gre out—and the clock pointing towards 8 in the morning. Mrs. Reeks started to her feet and fooked about her. It became evident ia @ moment that Mr. Reeks had not come home, his slippers—like a melancholy ghost of the end of him—stood inside the fender; nis pipe lay on the table, ready to his hand, to be smoked before. retiring to rest. In a word, Mr. Reeks was, above all things, a model husband; and this was the first occasion on which his wife had ever set at their humble reside, at such an hour, alone. Thoroughly awakened from her @ream, Mrs. Reeks shook herself, gat ap and went to the window, pulled the bind aside and looked out.. It was a @ark enough night, and it happened that, just unier the lamp cutside the ‘window, a policeman had halted on nis eheerless beat to look out him. Mr Reeks instantly dropped the blind, with @ gasp, and retired to her chair. “I don’t like it at all.”-she muttered to herself. “‘ wish I’d never urged him @o go in for it. It’s been a hard life, and, heaven knows, w2 want the mon- ‘ey; but if this Gilbert Rickerby is dead {as he well may be, to be advertised for like this) 1 4on’t care for the thought that George Reeks is stepping into his @hoes. Nearly 3 o'clock! If anything has happened to nim I'll never forgive myself. It's false pretenses—goodness knows what it is or what it isn’t!” She started up again and went to the ‘window, Ioo! out, and saw, to her re- fief, that the policeman was gone. ‘I thought, perhaps, he was watching the fhouse,” she murmured to herself. “Poor George—he’s got the heart of a fion; but you could crush him in a mo- ment with unkindness. I hope, if they find him out, they won't be rough with dim.” At last, after wandering about the oom restlessly for a long time, she caught up the light, with an air of de- ¢ermination, and went up to the bed- room, tied on her bonnet with some fierceness and threw a cloak about her. Then she came down stairs, extin- guished the light and went out into the streets, taking the key of the house with her. She set off rapidly in the direction of 6t. John’s Wood, taking the broader thorcughfares, and only stopping to ask the way once or twice, with something of fear, of a grim-looking constable at a street corner. So she came to the house, and had ber unsatisfactory in- ‘terview with Cornelius, and went away «gain, buoy2i up with the hope that Gecrge Reeks had taken another road, and had reached home in her absence. But she found, on arrival, that there ‘was no sign of him; with a sinking theart she let herself in to the little house, and sat down again to wait. Meanwhile, Mr. Reeks himself had een passing through exciting experi- ences. After that struggle in the gar- den, he found himself, as he stood help- 4fessly looking on, grasped by the arm and hurried along at top speed into the darkness. Looking up, timidly, he saw that Gilbert Rickerby was his guide. “Come along, Mr. Reeks,” cried Gil- ert; ‘we haven’t a moment to lose. The game is up, I'm afraid; but I don’t want to get you mixed up in any ef our disasters. There is a way out there; you must leave me to look after myself. Remember, however”—they had ‘got to the little gate leading into the iley at the back of the house; Gilbert gtood still, with a hand on the shoulder ef the little man before opening the yate--“I rely upon you to-morrow night, or rather, to-night. You’ know the time and place, near here, I know that woman with whom we spoke a lit- tle time ago, will keep her word and rescue my dear girl from this house. Will you be there?” “Yes, yes, I'll be there!” exclaimed Mr. Reeks, with a hard pressed against his forehead. “Oh, you needn't think I am going to fail you; only I’ve seen such things to-night that this poor head of mine is in a whirl, and I don’t know where I am, or what I’m doing. When I came out to-night Mrs. R. assured me hat I was Gilbert Rickerby; . since hen, I’ve seen ghosts among the trees, and dead men, and fools in sheets, and old wcmen carrying lanterns, and—" “There, there, never mind all thot,” broke in Gilbert. ‘“‘The time will come when all these things will be set right, when you will forget all the tragedy of that herrible place, and when I will not forget how loyally you have helped me. Good-night—until to-morrow.” Se Mr. Reeks staggered out into the alley, thence into the streets, and mede his way home as rapidly as pos- sible. It was only when he actually came in sight of the house that he realized how late it was; remembered the scene at tke garden gate be: wcen Cornelius and Mrs. Reeks; and wondering how that lady would greet him. There had been so much to think of before that this lest most important point had slipped hi thoughts altogether; but it pressed itself upon him now with remarkable urgency. He put his key in the lock and entered as softly as rossible. Be- fore he had fairly sot inside the door of the sitting .room was pulled open, and Mrs, Reeks stood looking at him. “Is that you, George Reeks?” she asked. It was, of course, quite a su- perfluous question, seeing that Mr. Reeks, though small, stood fully re- vealed; tut Mrs. Reeks had to make a beginning somehow and she was abso- lutely boiling over with questions. “Yes, my love,” responced Mr. Reeks, meekly. “I—I’m afraid I'm a little late.” Mrs. Reeks made no reply; she turned quickly and marched back into the sitting room. Mr. Reeks took off iis outer garments, and hung them up, and then followed his wife, nervously. Arrived in the sitting room, he sank into his chair, rested his elbows on th2 table, and wearily covered his face with his hands. Mrs. Reeks was’ growing impatient. She tapped her foot hurriedly, for a few moments, on the floor, and then spoke, in clear tones which seemed to stab the unfortunate man like so many knives: “George Reeks—you went out to- night for a certain rurpose known and approved by me.” “I know, my love—I know,” mur- mured Reeks, without uncovering his face. “I wish you would be kind enough not to mention it.” “But I insist on mentioning it, Mr. Meeks,” she retorted. “‘Are you to come homerat such an hour as this, and in the ‘voebegone condition you are in— and tell me not to mention it? I will mention it! What have you been do- ing all these hours?” Mr. Reeks shuddered. er—much rather—not sa. he replied. “It’s no use, my dear; I know quite well that you are burning to know what has happened. If I told you, you would not believe me; you'd put cooling things on my head, or dose me with something for incipient ,insanity. Therefore, I won't attempt it. I weft out to-night —or last night—I don’t’ know which it was—with the full intention of becom- ing Gilbert Rickerby. I’m not Gilbert Rickerby, and never shall be. I’m not quite sure that I know who I am; I shouldn’t be surprised if you find that you've married the wrong man, after all. Don’t ask me anything about it; withir’ a remarkably short space of time I shall either be hanged or make my fortune. And I don’t know which.” With this extraordinary statement, Mr. Reeks took up the lamp and de- clared his intention of going to bed: Mrs. Reeke, utterly at a loss what to do with him or to say to him, for per- haps the first tim? in her life, followed him with extraordinary docility. There was no sleep for Mrs, Reeks that night; she lay awake listening to the disturbed mutterings of her hus- band, and striving hard to connect them into some definite shape, and so piece together a story to satisfy her cu- riosity, But, although he talked of dead servants and live masters, and bury- ings under bushes, he made such a jum- ble of it all, and plunged about the bed in so wild a fashion and with such hor- rible gurglings and screamings that Mrs. Reeks was more than glad when daylight fully dawned and she could get and see about her usual household du- + ties. 'é “Mr, Reeks, hollow-eyed, trembling, and shivering, came down vt about mid- day and pretended to-eat some break- fast. This time Mrs, Reeks, remem- bering her previous defeat, went to work in a more diplomatic fashion; but an artful question or two in her light- est and most pleasing manner. But all to no purpose; Mr. Reeks had so fully made up his mind not to open his mouth that he went so far as to keep that -res- olution, even in regard to his break- fast, and pushed away everything un- tested. Firally, taking advantage of the absence of Mrs. Reeks from the room for a moment or two, he darted. out into the hall, got his hat and ‘coat,. ard slipped out of. the house. .Mrs. Reeks heard the front door bang, and ran in a great hurry; but too Jate to stop him or ask him where he was go- ing. Truth to tell, he would have found it somewhat difficult to answer that ques- tion himself. He was afraid to think, and yet afraid to cease thinking; he wanted to work himself out of this tan- gle in which Fate had wound him; and. yet his happy-go-lucky-nature urged him to let toler drift and Hope: for the would rath- best, It was only after he had. been wandering aimlessly for an hour cr two that he remembered the appointment for that night, and that he had prom- ised to give Olive Mallory shelter at No, 2, Little Pond street. And then, in- deed, he began to fear that he had gone a little too far, and that Mrs, Reeks would have first to be reckoned with. “I can’t explain,” he thought, miser- ably. “How can I tell her that this young girl is out of ber mind; that she is being pursued by a villain, and that sh- is the promised wife of a man whom everyone believes to be dead, and whom I have tricd to personate? How can I explain my reason for bringing such a visitor, at so late an hour? how can I meke her understand that that visitor is in danger, and must be kept in hiding? Well, I must hope for the best, and trust to luck to pull me out of it somehow.” Still, fearing further questioning on the part of Mrs. Reeks, he wandered about all that day until the time drew near to keep his appointment. It had been settled that Gilbert Rickerby should Jet the two women—Ursula and Olive—out into the little alley at the back of the house: that Ursula should take the girl to a quiet by-street some distance on the way to Camden Town, and that Mr. Reeks should meet them there and take charge of Olive. Half-a-dozen times, at least, Mr. Reeks approached the spot agreed upon —and immediately ran away from it. For now Mrs. Reeks did, indeed, loom over the unhappy man, a gigantic fig- ure, in his imagination, of wrath and suspicion and jealousy. But he had that loyalty to Gilbert and that pity for the girl which gradually overcame his fears; and he went back at last, fairly resolute, to meet his charge. It had been arranged that they should meet at a very late hour—long after midnight, in ‘fact, when the streets would be empty, and when any who might watch their departure from Rick erby’ Folly would have rétired long be~ fore, to rest. THe little man had, by Gilbert’s instructions, procured a four- wheeled cab, which he had left wait- ing around the corner of the street. Coming into the street itself, he saw two figures slowly pacing towards him; and at the same time he had a dim fee!- ing that there was another figure in the distance, standing looking after them. Indeed, this last figure impressed him so much that he went quickly to- wards Ursula and the girl, and asked a question concerning it at the very mo- ment of mecting them. “Who's that?” he asked. "I thought I sew a man*ccming this way; he passed under a lamp a moment ago. Are you sure no one has followed you?” Ursula Sewell had faced about quick- ly when he spoke, and was looking in the direction he indicated. ‘There’s no one there,” she said, looking round at him again. “You’re nervous. You for- get that there are other people in the streets of London, even so late as this. It would be bad for any one who tried to foliow me,” she added, with a laugh. Gecrge Reeks looked again in the di- rection in which he had seen the figure; but it was gone. Reassured, he started off with them towards the cab that was waiting; put Olive in and got in him- self. Looking out of ethe cab window, ani secing Ursula standing alone in the street, he said, with a touch of com- punction: “I don’t like the idea of your going back to that house alone. After what you've done to: night, there may be dan- ge: for you.” “What should harm me?” she asked, defiantly. “I must go back there; it’s the only place that has any ties to draw me to it. Don't be afraid. I know how to take care of myself.” She nod- Ged, quietly, and turned and went back the way she na-1 come. Neither of them noticed, while they spoke together in those few moments before the cab started, that man had come out of the street, and, stepping briskly into the roadway, had gone around on the other side of the cab, and passed close to the further window— n.uch closer than was necessary—in the act of crossing the road. As the wo- man had said, London's sireets were never really empty, and it was only the little man’s nervousness that had made hiin suspicious of that figure in, the distance. But they might have been disturbed, indeei, had they seen this man stop at a little distance and watch this cab as it rolled on towards Cam- den Town; watch it, with a fist grimly shaken after it, and a little burst of laughter for the simplicity of the people who had tried to outwit him. It was Nugent Leathwood. “I suppose I might have got hold of the girl in the street while I was fol- lowing them,” he pn uttered, stroking his chin, thoughtfully. “But that would never have done; there might have been screums and a scene, and, goodness knows, what secrdal—and I can't af. ford to risk that. Never mini; I know where she is, and that’s the great thing. And I won’t forget sweet Ursula’’—he kissed his fingers in the direction she iad taken—‘‘what I owe for this night’s cvork. As for you, you hald-headed little rascal,-with your talk of Gilbert Rickerby, ani d‘arics and papers—I’m not likely to forget you, either. It’s lucky I got that aCdress out of you; I'll cail on you prese-itly. There’s only one thing which puzzles me; what on earth has induced you to mix up in the busi- ness, and who put you on ‘9 this? You didn’t meet Ursula when you came to. the house, that I'll swear, for I saw you out of it myself: There’s some fiendish mystery here that I haven’t got to the bottom of yet.” He wulked on again for a little dis- tance, and then stopped once more in the silent street, in another vain en- deavor to thrash out this thing that was puzzling him. “I wonder if that fellow, Hubbard, has had anything to do with this? I don’t know what man or woman to trust: it's horrible to think, that some one whom I least suspect may be fitting a rope about my nck at this very mo- ment. There are only two things that old me to that accursed house—no, ?, He- stepped them off on his fingers. horrible thing we hid in the empty house—that must be got rid of; ought to have-been got rid of before. there’s this girl—shws the mainspring of everything; I'll run ayy risk rather than give her up. Perhaps, if I got rid of that body and made a bolt of it out of the country, I could take the girl with me. By Jove! that’s a good idea. Im get hold of those papers, too; that's the third business, Well, that lit: tle scamp has got the papers, Poa he’s” got Be girl; I can easily deal Next,'|- him. So far as the body fs concerned, perhaps I needn’t tovch it, or I might leave it to Cornelius, He has no nerves, | that fellow; he’d as soon bury it as to bury a dead cat. Well, that can wait; the first thing is to frighten this Mr. George Reeks.” The mention of that name started him off uron another train of thought, while he walked quickly toward Camden Town; another disturbirg thing which might, or might not, be helping to beat out a path to .he gallows for him. “George Reeks! Yes; that was the fellow who went to the funeral with him; I wonder who he was? There is a net drawing about me somewhere, and yet I can’t put my hand upon a .single tangible strand of it to break it- down. I am surrounded by pcre terrors; everywhere voices seem whisper warnings and threats. And the worst threat of all is that the servant is still unaccounted for. The master I've got—dead as twenty door-nails; the servant is lying in wait for me somewhere, I know And yet—how should he suspect me?” He began to be comforted by that thought, to take heart from the fact that, after all, the only two witnesses of the murd2r were safe—Cornelitis Veevers, because, for his own sake, he could be relied upon absolutely; Miles Probyn, for the simple reason that he was Gegd. And so, telling himself that his fears were but idle fancies, after all, he came, in the small hours of the morning, to No. 2, Little Pond Street, Camden Town. That night Mrs. Reeks had resorted to stratagem; that is to say, she had waited, with what patience she pos- sessed, until the hour grew so late that it was evident Mr. Reeks was about to repeat his performance of the previous right; then the lady, carefully extin- guishing the lights, went to bed. But not to sleep; she knew better than that. Instead, she muffled herself up in bed clothes and sat up in the bed in darkness, listening intently to every sound in the street, After some two hours of waiting she heard the sound of wheels, and a vehicle stopped at the door. Mrs. Reeks got out of bed and tiptoed to the windew, softly dgew aside the blind and peered down into the darkness. What she saw was sufficient, it mus* be admitted, to startle her. In the first place, out of the cab got Mr. George Reeks; following him came the mutf- fled figure of a female. Mrs. Reeks gasped and caught at the window frame for support. She saw her husband, af- ter a momentary glance upwards at the dark windows, pass jn at the little gar- den gate, followed by his companion; ther she heard the cautious turning of ihe key in the lock and the opening of the frent door. Moving as softly as her somewhat heavy weight would permit across the room above, Mrs. Reeks passed out on the landing and peerod over into the hall. There she saw Mr. Reeks, with a cautionary finger on his lips, drawing the female toward the sitting room. Cr229ing Cown a stair or two, Mrs. Reeks found she could hear exactly what was said. “This way, my child,” whispered the little man, drawing Olive into the room. “Don’t be frightened: I'l have a light for you in a moment; and ['see there’s stil’ a morsel of fire.” Mrs. Recks had thoughts of pinching herself to see if she were really awake, and to determine whthr or not this was som hideous nightmar2, and whether it really was the voice of taat hitherto deycted husbani of hers she heard be- low. The voice was replied to by the quiet tones of the young girl—Mrs. Reeks went down two steps more in order not to miss anything: ‘You are very kind to me. I will wait here un- til he sends for me.” “I don’t think you will!” muttered Mrs. Reeks, shaking her head in the darkness. “I may have’ a-word or two to say about that!” After a few moments Mr. Reeks pre- pared to come up; assured himself, by an anxious question, that his guest was comfortable; and emerged into the hall—shutting the door behind him. Mrs. Reeks scuttled back to bed, drew the bedclothes about her, and resolutey closed her eyes. The guilty little man came in and stood for a moment or two beside the bed, looking anxi>usly and intently in- to the face of the apparently sleeping woman. Mrs. Reeks essayed a gentle snore, as naturilly as she could under the trying circumstances. Mr. Reeks heaved a sigh of relief and began to prepare for bed. In less than ten min- utes he was sound asleep, utterly worn out with all that, he had passed through. Mrs. Reeks, having assured herself that he was not easily awak- ened, slipped out of bed, hastily threw on some garments, and started to go down stairs. Half-way down she stopped, listening, as she had heard the littl iron gate at the front of the garden creak on its hinges, More than that, there was a cautious footstep ceming up the path. She went down the remainder of the stairs at onse, utterly ignoring the door of the sitting room, passed on to the door in front of the house, and stood there, trembling and listening. There was nt the least doubt that somecne was outside; she could hear the shuffling of feet on the top step, and, in the silence, heavy breathing. On .a sudden impulse, although she could scarcely have defined what the impulse was, she opened the door quickly, and faced the man who stood just outside, Then, to her astonishment, the man stepped in, coolly, thrust her aside and closed the door. Standing there in the_ darkness with him, she felt his breath against her cheek and heard these words: “Hush—not a sound! Reeks, I suppose?” “Yes. But what—’ “Don’t make a noise. This is a mat- ter of danger—danger to your husband. Get a light.” Mrs. Reeks gasped, and moved to- ward the door of the sitting room; she felt the man‘ moving, too, in the dark- ness, close beside her. You are Mrs. No Time to ‘Be pat? ; ‘(Mire ‘Reeks | remethbered;-even while her hand was on the knob of the sit- ting room door, that there stood close beside the door a’small shelf on which stood a-candlestick, Not knowing who the mysterious visitor was nd why he same there so opportunely tofit in with her suspicions, she hesitated to let him | war, into that secret which was hidden by ; So. ferred her hand from the knob to the shelf; found the matches, which wer? on the candlestick, and struck a light. ‘The candle, as it'burned into a flame, revealed nothing more alarming than a well-dressed, gentlemanly-looking man, sinilirg at her reassuringly and beginning—now that he saw that they were alone—to murmur apologies for his intrusion. “Quite disgraceful, I am sure,” said, in a low voice, “to disturb a lady at such an hour as this. I was hesitat- ing whether tc knock when you opened the door. Is Mr. Reeks here?” Mrs. Reeks nodded, solemnly. here—and in bed,” she replied, softly, and with a glance toward the stairs. “He hasn’t been in bed five minutes, sir; if you-wish to see him—” “I wouldn't disturb him for the world,” broke in the stranger, hurried- ly. “My business is rather with your- self, Mrs. Reeks, than with him, = have already said that your husband is in danger. Good-hearted fellow that he is—a creature of impulse—who cares not what danger he plunges into—” He stopped, because Mrs Reeks was shaking her head, obstinately. ‘You've been mixing up George with some oth- ter party, sir,” she observed. “I never knew George Reeks to go dashing into danger, unless it was by accident—at least, not until to-night.” “Exactly. It is of to-night I wish to speak. Tell me, is it not a fact that your husband has brought a young wo- man into this house only a little time ago—this very nizht, in fact?” Mrs. Reeks bridled. This was touch- ing her on a sore point; and Nugent Lethwood was quick to observe it and to pursue the momentary advantage. “Believe me,” he broke in, before she had time to answer, “I have no desire to say anything sgainst him. But am I right in supposing that he has prcught this lady here without consult- ing you—mysteriously, and in the mid- dle of the night?” t “It’s true,” replied Mrs. Reeks, be- ginning to whimper. ‘In all my life, sir, such a thing has never happened before. He brings some unknown bag- gage into the house at this hour—packs her-up comfortably in the drawing room--and says nothing whatsoever to me. But what am I to do?” (To Be Continued.) he “He is OWNED BY HERSCHEL HEIRS. for by Miss Dorothy Catherine Dra- per Many Years Ago. When Dorothy Catherine Draper, who died at Hastings last week, posed for the first photographic portrait of a person, shortly after Daguerre’s an- /nouncement, in 1839, of his discovery of the action of sunlight on silyer, her face was dusted with a fine white pow- der, that the impression might be the clearer. The ‘first photographic por- trait ever made is still in existence. It is owned by Lord Herschel’s heirs in England. The photographer was Miss Draper’s distinguished brother, John ‘W. Draper, who succeeded Dr. Valen- tine Mott as president of New York University’s medical college. Miss Draper lived to see the experiment in which she took vart develop into one 6f the most important arts. There have been other men who have alleged that they were first in applying Daguerre’s discovery to photographic portraits. but their claims were not well founded. Miss Draper’s picture and the date on which it was made were long ago ac- cepted as proof that to John Williams Draper belonged this honor.—New York Sun, HIS BOOK WASN’T RUBBISH. Therefore Francis Wilson Refused to Gratify the Desire of the Young Librettist. An embryo librettist recently ap- proached Francis Wilson with a manu- script and received rather a bewilder- ing reception. “IT cannot agree to read it,” said the comedian, amiably, “I am a weak person influenced to merit.” “But my book is very good,” argued the litrettist. “Just what I fear, my dear boy,” re- plied Mr. Wilson. “If it proved to be good, I might he tempted to produce it and lose $20,009, If I did not produce it, I should be uneasy, and I do not wish to add to my discomfort. Howev- er, I will read the book on one condi- tion.” “What is it?” “That you assure me that your boox is downright rubbish.” “But it isn’t.” “Then I can do nothing for you. Good day.”"—New. York Times. TOO BASHFUL TO MARRY. Three Times Dorin’s Heart Failed Him at the Supreme Moment—Is Given Up. ‘The most bashful man in the West is William Dorin, who is connected with the best families in Quincy. Twice all arrangements were made for his wed- ding, and he ran to cover and was for- given. The third attempt Miss Nellie Parsons made to wed him resulted in another failure. There were flowers, carriages, wed- ding breakfasts and orchestras on’ hand —but Dorin ran et the supreme mo- ment and disappeared. He said he was willing to marry quietly, but could not face a society wedding. ‘Miss Parsons fas given him up.—Quincy (Ill.) Special to New York World. Expecting Too Much, Proprietor—It doesn’t seem to me that our new superintendent, Mr. Fuss- about, accomplishes a great deal of work. Confidential Man—It wasn’t to be ex- ‘pected of him. But he is so sympathet- ic! He is a greft acquisition. By the way, you will have to take on two or three more men and a girl or two to perfect his system. He says it is abso- lutely imperative. Proprietor-——-But when bine system is. perfected, what then? Confidential | Man—What ‘hen? Why, | system will be perfect. What more would you have? You can’t expect to have system and work, too.—Boston ‘Transcript. Me Studied Recent History. ‘This string,” said Tommy, as he im- patiently struggled with the task of dis- engaging a snarl of twine, “reminds me ,of the Boer wart.) “Why does ‘t remind you of the ta 2” inquired his : First Photographis Portrait Posed E Yjgas Novelties in SS ee ee we Gl eee A novelty in fans, which has come mm Paris, is composed of blue jay and white gull plumes, with a pearl mount. These feather fans are carried out in all kinds of plumage, pheasant, pea- cock, jungle cock and merle, mounted with pearl handles, inlaid with gold. The gull fans with pearl mounts, are singularly pretty. Another pretty nov- elty is made up of different flowers shaped out of stiffened gauze. These ar2 painted in natural hues, the cen- ters glittering with spangles. Poppies, pansies, carnations and Marguerites, treated in this way and mounted on carved ivory sticks make an exceeding- ly effective fan.—Brooklyn Hagle. Trying Situation. Miss Amateur—Can’t you give me & part with more speaking in it? Theatrical Manager—For what rea- son? Miss Amateur—Well, before going on the stage I belonged to a woman's de- bating club, and not having a chance to say much, goes very ill with me.— Ohio State Journal. Terrible Threat. Hired Girl—Now, you go right away this minute. Tramp—Please, mum— Hired Girl—Go away, I tell you. Clear out, now, or I'll—I’ll give you a piece of mince pie that the young missus made herself.—New York Weekly. Reminiscent. “Those people next door to you—are they the kind that borrow?” “Indeed, yes. When I call there Iam always visibly reminded of what I once possessed.”—Detroit Free Press. Heredity has a deal to do with both mind and body, but a haughty spirit may always be toned down. The greatest of professional athletes use Wizard Oil for a “rub-down.” It softens the muscles and prevents sore- ness. ‘Woman is mistress of the art of com- pletely embittering the life of the per- son on whom she depends.—Goethe. To Cure a Cold in One day Take Laxative Bromo Quinine Teblets. All druggistsrefund money if it failstocure. 250. To interest a woman, arouse her cu- riosity; to interest a man, praise his pet hobby. PUTNAM FADELESS DYES color silk, wool or cotton perfectly at one boll- ing. Sold by druggists. 10c per package. Anxiety regarding others sometimes resolves itself into a desire to have things our own way. Short Cut Cure For Pain Of As pure as it is sure. Abso- Jutely white—does not soil the clothing. Cures Rheumatism and all weakness and pains of limbs and uscles. For sprains, burns, cuts it is un- equalled by any other remedy in the world. Relieves neu- ralgia and nervous headache almost instantly. Taken in- ternally, it eurescolds, coughs, croup, ete. The pain of warts, corns and bunions is imme- dintely allayed. and 9 quick cure effe: soitle, "Ue nomeannok procure ie write for booklet me GOODRICH a JENNINGS Anoka, Minn. 3 i Ht : f i | |