Grand Rapids Herald-Review Newspaper, March 15, 1902, Page 6

—_ —ew Imperfect Padc QO0000-0000-0-00-000000000000-9 TESTES ECS FC SCCE CCC CESS & Rickerby’s Folly By TOM GALLON Coo errr eer rv eg @0-0-0-0-0-00-0-0-0-00-000000000 CHAPTER XX—(Continued.) Leathwood had ceased to he was sitting perfectly 2G, with his eyes fixed on Gilbert Rick- exby, and with his breath laboring as though he bad been running. “I sent that servant into this house; I exw him enter the gate myself. That ‘was mo¢ sent to perscnate me ,but mere- ty aw muy ambassader—to tell you that I was coming. I wanted to hear what your reception of the news of what I meamt to do would be. The man en- tewad fre house. as I have said; he nev- er came out again. Jemima Veevers, 0 this man what you saw on the night ¥a:mex Holden came to the house with my meessage and my money.” Wugent Leathwood started then, and Caraed swiftly towards th2 old woman, wisafever else he might have been dim- fy prepared for, he certainly was not qeeyared for this. There was, too, @ wertain curious alertness about the old womas—a gleam in her dull eyes that tee find mever seen there before. “¥ ‘ed bin in the ‘abit of wanderin’ e@bout the “ouse—both ‘cuses,- in fact— might a2 day, for a long time,” began ha cid woman. “I think I got into the way of it first w’en my poor mistress ‘was alive. E used to -reep abaut then, @m” watch the oli man, so as to tell er wot ’e looired like, en’ to assure ’er that “e was well; she was always cravin’ to fenow that. I'd ‘eard Cornelius an’ ‘is master talkin’, that lay, atout my dear “ey comin’ 'ome; I 'eard ’em whisperin’ wheut what they meant to do—but I ewuldn'’t quite catch what they said.” “You Jezebel!” said Nugent, through ffs teeth. “K told yon, Cornelius, mis- @iief would come of that woman lurk- fag about the house. You said she had me wits—-didn’t you?” “f ‘ad wits enough to be able to get the best of you,” retorted to old wo- mam “An’ I wanted to see my dear ey” (how her face changed and soft- medi am she said it and as she glanced #2 Githert!}, “an’ I waited about on the steira and in dark corners, on the chance of catching first sight of *im. “Shen. when the ring came at the bell, @md@ the man was brought in, I saw at a@ece that it wasn’t Master Gilbert at ejf, but = stranger. I was jest turnin’ @way wen I ’eard a frightful noise in he rooms, and I ran back to the door; T geeped in, an’ there I saw Mr. Leath- wood am" the strarge man fightin’ like demons xii over the floor, an’ Cornelius am the man they call Probyn lookin’ a. Nugent swing his | 4. dead silence was in the room as the a woman paused for a moment; Nu- gent took out his handkerchief and hur- tMediy wiped his forehead and the palms *#f bis hands. Mr. Reeks had backed egeiast the wall up in a corner, and @teod there with his mouth wide open and his tufts of hair bristling with Setgit. “Rt grows int>resting, doesn’t it, Cous- fm Leathwood?” asked Gilbert, quietly. “Yew; very interesting for you,” re- @ifed Leathwood, with a snarl. But the atery ts not finished yet; pray proceed.” “— was too much frightened,” went on Yemtma, “to know what to do—too much afraid even to cry out. But T watched the whole timej, while they wtrargied ‘im; I was ‘idin’ on the stairs, fn the dark, w’en they carried the body eut—Mr. Leathwood and Cornelius.” “It's 2 Vet” cried Cornelius, fiercely. “You shan’t drag me into the business.” “im, bat they shall, though,” said Nu- weat, quickly. “We're both in this, my @&f friend; you won't leave me in the ferch; FH take good care of that. ‘Ckey*ve gut to prove all they say; but, ‘um@er the circumstances, we stand or fell together; don’t forget that.” “I don"t know what they did with the man Gey killed; I was too frightened ‘te wait any longer,” addei Jemima. “~% ¢hiak I'll take up the story again,” @aid Gilbert. “That body was carried (mts the deserted house next to this; ‘wae thrust, in the hurry and terror of the moment, into a cupboard. For a ‘Bittle time foitune favored those who ‘att cormmicted the crime; a man whom ® have since learned bore the name of Riis Probyn, probably frightened at what he had seen, rushed—half-mad vaith terror—out of the house. I saw Bin—followed him. He it was who was killed ir the streets, and dying with the mame of the nan he thought had been wuwurdered on his lips, was buried under that name. Oh, it was a clever scheme, @Mugent Leathwood; and if you had eusfly willed Gilbert Rickerby, it is peobable that the fraud would never fmmve Geen discovered.” Nugent Leathwood, even in this hour, feok thr matter coolly enough, or ap- qeareé to do so. “I'm obliged to ad- emit.” he said, “that you've got the whole thing pretty pat—whether you've @avented it or guessed at it, or what you've done. There’s one thing that en mre: where have you been hid- ‘ag al! this time?” “As FE have said—within a ‘dozen gards of you,” replied Gilbert; “in the Geaerted rouse, where I lived as a boy and where my mother died. This faithful old woman’—he indicated Je- guise Veevers—“has waited upon me in @ecret, during the few days I have been there. You have been outwitted, Cous- fm Leathwood, at every turn.” “Em efraid you take too much for Cousin Rickerby,” retorted Nu- qent. “It is not, perhaps, worth men- Genfng—a mere detail; but you have @polken of the body of a man stowed iasway fm @ cupboard. The story of the lwurder ts probably some mad fancy of ‘this pcec old woman’s; but the business ‘af the cupboard is a ‘little too thin. you can find the body, and «confirm your statement?” “Oh, yes—I can find the body,” replied wbert; “but not in the place in which pew pct at” “What do you mean?” | <gamean that I buried the body of my qecvant fn the garden of this house, on ‘the night when you nearly surprised us @t the work—the night on which the gan Hubbard seized hold of you by ‘quistake. Do you remember that?” WNew, I remember it.” Nugent Leath- wood got down from the table, and stood, with his arms folded, gloomily staring at the floor, After a moment or two he raised his head, and spoke, with a certain recklessness in his tones: “Well—you've trapped me—and I hope you are. satisfied. I've made a pretty good fight for it—but the laugh is with you, at last. What are you going to do?” it must not be supposed for a mo- ment that a man of the character of Nugent Leathwood meant to be beaten quite so casily. Even while he spoke, and while his careless eyes drifted around the roomn, his mind was going carefully over every loophole of escape —now here, now there. Remorse for anything he had done was not in him; put him face to face with Gilbert Rick- erby alone, and he would kill him now, if possible, as readily as he had plotted to kill him before. “T intend to hand you over to justice,” replied Gilbert. “It has taken me a long time to get the story pieced togeth- er; it may be difficult for me to estab- lish the truth as to who I reaily am, but Vil doit. As fi ju—you shan't escape —be sure of that.” Leathwood shrugged his shoulders. “No; I expect you've got me pretty tight,” he said. In his own mind he had settled pretty clearly what he was to do—had seen a way out of this thing. “But, since you've won,” he added, “grant me a favor.” “What is it?” “T am quite capable of taking on my own shoulders the burden of anything I have done,” said Leathwood. “I spoke just now of draggirg this unfortunate old man—merely a tool in my hands— into the business. That was wrong, I frankly admit it. There—T'll confess, if you like, that I killed this servant of ycurs, believing the man was Gilbert Rickerby. It’s done, and 1 must pay th? pi But this old man should not be punished for the fault of his master; let him go.” Cornelius appeared quite to indorse this opinion; he looked expectantly at Gilbert “I am, really, a very old man, Mr. Rickerby,”” he whined, “and T ’ave a wife to think of—" “You haven't thought much of her hitherto,” said Gilbert; ‘“‘but, for her sake, you may g0, as as I am con- cerned; what the law will say to you afterwards, I don’t know.” Nugent Leathwood was visibly affect- ed by this concession; he walked across the room and d his old servant by the hand. “I am sorry, Cornelius,” he said, aloud, “that I ever dragged you into such a n affair as this. Forgive me.” Then, under his breath, in a hur- ried whisper: “Get the old woman away; leave me alone with him; I'll settle him yet.” Then, aloud: “You will forgive me, won't you?” Cornelius took his cue as neatly as it was given. “Don't speak of it, Mr. TLeathwood,” he said, in a voice of emo- tion. “I ‘ave bin wrong, I know, an’ it’s me as ought to ask for forgiveness.” Then, in the same cautious whisper: understand. I’m ready for anything.” Nugent walked bact to the table. “Again it occurs to me, cousin, that our friend, Mr. Reeks, here, may get into some difficulty if he is included, howev- er innocently, in the matter He has been amply rewarded for any trouble or arnoyance caused to him; he has in his possession £500 of your money. Let him go; let him benefit by it. We don't want to drag the poor fellow into such a business as this. For Heaven's sake, cousin, let you and I face the business tegether; after all, call me what you will, %'m a man, and I won't sneak be- hind anyone weaker than myself. Let Mr. Reeks go ababout his business with his money.” “Upoa my word, cousin, you're a bet- ter fellow than I gave you credit for, and I heariily wish I haadn’t such a task before me,” sad Gilbert. “Let Mr. Reeks go, by all means.” Mr. Reeks was oniy too glad to avail himself of the permission. He felt that the matter was ended; he knew that in his pocket was the sum of money which was to give him his chance of starting in the world afre. He picked up his hat with alacrity and went smilingty towards the door, | “Much obliged to you, I’m sure, gen- tleemen, he murmured. “I could only wish that, for the sake of all parties, something could be done as would re- store harmony; but still, you know, Mr Leathwood. it ain't allowed, in a Christian country, to go choking one’s fellow-creatures, no matter what the motive may be. Good evening, gentle- men.” It was the turn of Cornelius to play his part. With seeming timidity, he approached Jemima—shuffiing towards her hesitatingly and with a certain apologetic air. “TI know I ’aven’t been tke ’usband I might ‘ave been, Mrs. V.,” he said; “but it can all be made up for, These gen- tlemen have bin good enough to give me another chance—an’ you shall see what use I'll make of it. I'll do my best, Je- mima—if you'll overlook the mistakes I ’ave made.” ‘ Jemima was absolutely knocked off her mental balance, so to speak, for this extraordinary and unlooked-for atti- tude on the part of Cornelius. She had no time or opportunity to discover whether he was genuine or not; the wily old man took her tenderly by the arm and walked her out of the room, apparentliy murmuring unaccustomed endearments. The door closed after them, and Nugent Leathwood and his cousin were left alone. There was a long silence—a silence which Leathwood broke. “I would like to know,” he began, in a humbled voice, “what has become of the young girl— Olive Mallory, whom I have wronged so deeply, and who was the indirect cause of all this business. Is she safe?” “Quite safe,’ replied Gilbert. ‘In fact, she is here now, I brought her here with me, when I followed you back from Barnet; I, would not leave her alone again. When I have seen about you I shall take her away from this dread“ul place with me. By the way— where are those papers which Reeks brought here?” “At your feet, where you dropped them=when you first came in behind me,” replied Nugent, carelessly. But his voice was the only careless thing him; the whole man was alert to seize the first opportunity that presented it- self. Gilbert Rickerby glanced around, and then stoored to pick up the papers at his feet. The opportunity had come. Like lightning Leathwood snatched up a small, heavy, bronze statuette, which stood on the desk, swung it aloft and brought it down with crashing force on the head of the stcoping man. With a groan, Gilbert Rickerby plunged for- ward with outstretched hands and fell on his face on the floor. Nugent Leathwood laughed as he dropped his weapon and went down on one knee beside the prostrate man. “So the story is finished, is it, Gilbert Rick- erby?” he whispered. ‘You are so sure of yourself and of what you can do that you venture back into this place and bring this girl with you. That's kind of you to bring the girl. Well, this is the second killing of Gilbert Riekerby; but T'li make sure of it this time! He bent lower—rolled the body over— and looked keenly at the unconscious face, There was no sign of life in it. In a breathless hurry he sprang up and ran out of the .0om, leaving Giilbert Riclerby lying there. CHAPTER XXI. Cornelius Meets His Match. When Mr. George Reeks hurried away from his house in Little Pond Street, Camden Town, on that eventful night, he left Mrs. Reeks in a State of the greatest possible flutter and alarm. In the first place, the good lady was as heartily tired of the difficulties which had beer her lot during the whole time of hes association with Mr. Reeks as was that gentleman himself—and the £500 was a tempting amount. it spelled good fare and good clothes; ev- ery coin of it rang a knell to brokers and duns forever. But, on the other hand, Mrs. Reeks continued to be as- sailed by those pricks of conscience which had stirred into life on the pre- vious day. She bitterly regretted that that strange lodger had ever entered the house; she would have given much to have got back to the days when little Gcorge Reeks, struggled on to earn two shillings here, or half a crown there, as commission for mysterious sales and other things when they were desperate- ly poor, indeed, but when their hands were clean and mystery had never spread cloudy wings over their house. More than all, (the wifely feelings of Reeks were roused at the thought ger to ber husband; in her ment- al vision she saw him pursued by a gi- gantic policeman; she even had a vis- jon of him with the £500 in his hands, tripped up by footpads, or brutaliy as- saulted by highwey robbers. In an ag- ony of éread and contrition she paced the house from top to bottom, counting the slow minutes until her husband should appear. The time wore on. and grew into the smull hours of the morning; and still the litile street failed to echo to the ststeps of Mr. George Reeks. At Kecks, wound up’to a pitch of desperation by her terrors, could stand it no longer; she hurriediy put on a cloak and bounet and sallied out to find him, and, if possible, to give him safe eenduct home. “LT always said I ought to have been the man,” muttered Mrs. Reeks to her- self. as she sped along through the si- lent streets. “I'd like to see them get anything out of me in a hurry: But, there—George always was that weak, anyone cvuld twist him round their fin- gers.” Whether Mrs. Reeks meant to suggest that she haa carried out that twisting process successfully on her own account, she did not say. She set her face straight for Rickerby’s Folly and made for it at a great rate. As she went along, memories of that other occasion on which she had gone to the same place in search of her husband swept over her. an unworthy suspicion as- sailed her—that the little man might have been detained on another of those Qu'xotic affairs connected with a young and forlorn female; the thought of it tightened the lips of Mrs. Reeks and in- creased her speed. Ccming in the dead of that strange night to the outside of Rickerby’s Folly, Mrs. Keeks suddenly grew cautious. She remembered that on the last occa- sion she had failed to find her husband simply because she had gone, in a straightforward manner, to the house ani asked for him; on this occasion she determined to make whatever search wus necessary on her own account, There was a wild thought in her mind that she might be able to scale the wall, if no one came along to catch her in the act. Perhaps there was a spice of ro- mance hidden away somewhere in the breast of Mrs. Reeks; perhaps she ougtt, as she had said, to have been of thut stronger sex to which nature had denied her admission. However, being, after all, a practical woman of the nine- teenth century, she thought it possible that a way in might be found by the gate, although, as she had heard it un- locked on the previous occasion, that seemed scarcely likely. But, fertunately or unfortunately, for Mrs. Reeks, it had happened that the opening of the gate that night had been left to Jemima, end that wise old wo- man, being uncertain as to what would happen. or how necessary it might be fos scmeone to make a rapid exit from the place, had omitted to turn the key. So that Mrs. Reeks, after fumbling for a moment or two at the latch, felt the gate yield under her touch, and slipped quickly through into the garden, At this point Mrs. Reeks found her- self in a strange land; -sh@ knew not whether to turn to right or to left—was equally uncertain as to whether or not he: husband’s mission had failed or succeeded, and what her reception might be if she walked boldly up to the house. But once again that romantic streak in her character saved her; she thcught of all the heroines of whom she had read who crept about in dark places (usually In gorgeous evening rai- ment) and stabbed or hissed their way successfully through countless Jangers, With her heart beating somewhat tu- multucusl; Mrs. Reeks crept towards the dark outline’ of the house without any very distinct notion as to where she Was going. A light shone in one window, and presently, while she looked, Mrs. Reeks saw a shadow fall across the window and a man stretch forth his arms at either side and close the shuttefs, leav- ing even that face of the house abso- lutely blank. More than ever disturbed in her mind with fears as to the fate of Mr. Reeks, the good lady stumbled along among the dead leaves until she touche the wall of the house; then, in the pitchy darkness, she began to grope along the bricks, in the hope of finding the door. To do her justice, Mrs. Reeks was no coward, and it is probable that she feared nothing absolutely mortal. More than all else, she was nerved by the thought of that unfortunate little hus- band of hers in that strange house, un- dergoing, perhaps, unknown horrors for the sake of that horrible £500. Just as Mrs. Reeks reached that point of thought she touched a door, felt, fever- ishty, for the handle, and tumbled through into a passage. Darkness and silence. The door had closed with a soft thud behind her, and Mrs. Keeks knew not which way to turn or whether it was safe to advance a step. Indeed, it is probable that at that momeni she would have screamed aloud had she not seen, straight in front of her, a gleam of light. Hurrying to- wards it, she thrust open a door, and found herself in a room with a lighted candle on the table. The room was empty. “Now, I wonder where poor George has got to,” she pented, looking wildiy all around her. “Two doors—one up in the corner, one to the right. Well, I think I'll trust to luck, and take the one to the right.” Mrs. Recks caught up the candle- sticl:, pulled open the Coor to the right, and found herself in a narrow passage. As a matter of fact, it was the passage that connected the two houses, and Mrs. Reeks, in darting along it, as she now did, was passing into that house in which Nugent Leathwood had lived and in which Gilbert Rickerby had that night been struck down. . Mrs, Ree2ks knew nothing of this; sne only knew that she was in the same house to which her husband had come that night, and that she meant to find him. Carrying the candle, she passed through the passage and came to the second hcuse. All was dark and silent. Not a whisper nor a footfall anywhere. And then, in the midst of the silence, cutting like a flash of steel, came the faint scream of a woman, Mrs. Reeks, being a woman herself, dropped the candlestick and felt in- clinei to scream, if only as a species of friend!y echo. The next moment, as the cry was repeated, all that was best in her was reused, and she ran forward blindly in the darkness, plunged head- long, with all her substantial weight, against a door, and fell forward into a room. The rcom was lighted, too, although the shutters were closed; and there were two people in it. The first person that Mrs. Reeks noticed, when she scrambled up from her knees, was a young girl, drawn back against the wall, ani staring, with frightened eyes, at the other occupant of the room—an old man of a suriously bent and twisted figure—the man Mrs. Iteeks remembered to have seen at the gate when she came to Rickerby’s Folly, in search of her husband, on the former occasion. The old man swung round upon the uncere- morious visitor, snarling at her like a sort of wild beast. “Well—what do you want? wied. “Who sent you blund - like this?” “T’ve come to look—to look for my husband—Mr. Reeks,’ panted Mrs. Reeks. ‘What are you doing with that young lady?” “What's that to you?” snapped Cor- nelius. “Your ’usband went from ’ere a good ’alf-hour ago, an’ with five ’un- dred cash ‘n ’is ’ands—muh more than ‘e deserved, the dog, by a lot. You'd better foliow ‘im, an’ not come forcin’ your way into ’onest folks’ ’quses at this hour of the mornin’. Come, be off with you!"" But Mrs. Reeks, quite unexpectedly, stood her ground. ‘Not much!” she ex- claimed, resoluicly. “I believe this is the young lady I did a wrong to (though guvodness knows I never meant it!) a day or two back. What's the matter with her now I heard her cry out a minute ago.” “Well, an’ if you did? It’s one of the ways of gels to squeak,” said Corne- lius, with an ugly grin. ‘Look ’ere, my good woman, you'd better git out of this as soon as you can. My master’ll be back in a minute or two, an’ ’e ain’t in the best of tempers jus’ now.” “That for you master!” cried Mrs. Reeks, snapping her fingers in front of his face. ‘I don’t care for forty mas- ters; but I won’t stand by and see a young girl ill-treated by an ugly old sinner like you. Stand out of my way!” Mrs. Reeks, with one swift movement of her arm, swept the estonished Mr. Veevers almost off bis feet, and crossed swiftly to where Olive was crouched ecgainst the wall. Something in the strong, defiant face must have attract- ed the girl, for she sprang forward with a low cry of relief and caught Mrs. Reeks around the reck. “There—ther2—my pretty; don’t be upset!” murmured the good woman, “I was a beest to you the other night, and I doubt if I'll ever be forgiven for turn- ing a young gicl out of doors and giv- ing her into the hands of a scoundrel; put you needn’t fret amy more. He's got to be a strong man who'll take you away from me now; and he’s got to be a better man than any of your shrivel- led-up Guy Fawkses—that I can tell yout!”’ “Gilbert—take me to Cilbert!” cried the girl, clinging frantically to Mrs. Reeks. “I have been so happy with nim; but now ne’s gore, and I cannot find him. Take me to Gilbert!” “And you ain't likely to find ‘im, broke. in the old man. “We've enough of your Gilberts and what-not; it’s time you knew the truth about it. You won't see Gilbert Rickerby again— take my word for that. Come, now; do as I’ve told you; get on your ‘at and your cloak, and be ready to leave this place at once. And as for you’—he turned fiercely on Mrs. Reeks, and shook a fist at her—‘“if you don’t get out of this place at once, you'll be pundled out, neck and crop, before you know where you are. And ‘eaven ’elp you if Mr. Leathwood comes back and finds you ‘ere!” he yin “{ don't care for Mr. Leathwood or} for you,” retorted Mrs, Reeks. Be. “ae goirg fast enough, but I don’t go with- out this young lady. She's frightened to death of you. anyone can see that. Now, stand aside, and let me pass!" “Oh, no, you won't pass unless you go alone,” replied Cornelius, with a grin. “A pretty thing, indeed, if you might come into a gentleman's ‘ouse at this time of night, and carry off a young gel who isn’t even in ’er right: mind.” ‘ “I’m not surprised at that, if she’s had much to do with you.” retorted Mrs. Reeks, sharpiy. Now, look here, my friend, you're an old man, and 4 don’t want to do you an injury. But I’m a woman, and I wouldn't leave a dog in ycur care, to judge by the look of you, let alone a young girl. So, stand eside, or I'll rouse the neighbor- heod, even at this time of night, in a fashion that’ll surprise you!” For answer, Mr. Veevers turned sud- denly turned and darted across the room, pulled enen an old portmantean, burrowed among the contents, and stood up with something in his hand. “Lucky I packed this,” he muttered. “I brought the bag in ‘ere so’s to be ready w'en Leathwcod was. Now, my good woman, I don’t like to threaten a lacy, but will you go now? I kept this because one never knows what may ’appen w’en one is rurning away an’ leavin’ awkward things be’ind.” He held in his hand a heavy, old- fashioned revolver—held it awkwardly, as though he knew very little about it. Mrs. Reeks knew Still legs about such things, but she realized fully, probably for the first time in her life, that they were remarkably dangerous things. She pulled the girl's erms from her neck and darted <t once upon Mr, Vee- vers. Some instinct of nature prompts the inexperienced in ncments of danger to shut their ezes end rush blindly at what tnreaievs them. So with Mrs. Reeks. She grabbed Cornelius and clung to him, with her eyes tightly shut, and fumbled and struggled for the deadly thing he held. And in the midst of that struggling and fumbling there came a terrific report, end Mrs. Reeks felt herself clutched, swayed about, and dragged to the floor. (To Be Continued.) Flirting Frowned On. The saying that “all the world loves a lover” is a rule with some important ex- ceptions. In some parts of Russiu, for instance, it is a crime for lovers to kiss in public. Two amorcus couples were arrested in Odessa not long ago for this iniquitous conduct. The crime was committed ina restaurant, where the young people had been dining. and the punishment was @ short term of imprisonment. - It seems strange to have to link with Russia in this respect the free country under the Stars and Stripes. But it is a mcurnful fact that in some parts of the great republic lovers are frowned upon. Several towns there have enactments against courting in public, and many an Edwin with his Angelina has been haled before the court and fined for “billing and cocing.” In one case, seven young men were prosecuted for flirting with the lady students of a local college. The3z desperate criminals, however, were let off on payment ef costs and an apology. What curmudgeons some of the au- thorities are may be judged by the fact that at one popular resort is a notice board with the words, “Flirting Is Pro- hibited.”— Cassell’s Magazine, The Obtuse English Agvin. ‘Two Englishmen were discussing with Mark Twain the old topic of American humor as not appreciated by foreign- ers. “But, are the English really so ob- tuse?” asked one of them. “Obtuse! You can’t get an idea into an Englishman’s head with a surgical operation,” declared Mark Twain. The questioner remained in solemn thought for a moment. Then he broke into a hearty laugh, “Quite a delicious joke!” he exclaimed. “Though, of course, if you were te open the FigUshman’s skull you would kill him, would you not?” Mark Twain turned to the second En- glishman. “What did I tell you? He want to know whether it would kill him!” The ccuntenance of the second En- glishman was like a blank wall. “Wouldn't it?” he queried.—New York Times. “Making Lemons Sour. How cften does a lemon fail to live up to its sour reputaticn! Until lately American Jemons were more likely to thus fail than for eign ones, the reasor of which was that our growers did not know how to cure lemons. The fruit was never tart enough. ‘There would be pienty of juice, but it contained a high per cent Gf. sugar and a smail per cent @f acid, which made it unmarketable. But a few years ago the lemon growers clubbed tcgether and sent experts over to Itaiy and Spain to Jearn the business, and now they are producing much bet- ter results, They pick the fruit before it begins to turn yellow and put it ina curing house, where it is kept at an even temperature of about 60 degrees for about twenty days, which “sweats out! all the sugar. It is then removed to another temperature for’sixty days more before it is ready ‘for market. } The “Petticoat Inserrection.” Perhaps the first “‘woman’s rights” movement in America -was connected with the early history of the settlement of Louisiana,-for there, early in the century, occurred the famous “petticoat insurrection.” The French '.girls who had come to settle in the country under allurements which proved to be decept- ive, were particularly indignant at be- ing fed upon corn. Bienville thus re- ports the matter in one of his dis- patches: Ny “The males in the colony begin, through habit, to be reconciled to corn as an article of nourishment; but the females, who are mostly Parisians, have | for this kind of food a dogged aversion, which has not yet been subdued. Hence, they inveigh bitterly against his grace, the bishop of Quebec, who, they say, has enticed them away from home un- der pretext of sending them to enjoy the milk and honey of the land of prom ise.”—Peterson’s Magazine. Grandfather's. “Do wey people have rheumatism, le," “No, dear; rheumatism has all old! s 2p mite = MUSCULAR SORENESS. As the result of over-exertion and exposure to heat and cold, or from whatever cause, may be treated suc- cessfully by the timely application of St. Jacob’s Oil. A thorough rubbing Is necessary. The Oil should be applied vigorously, for at least twenty min- utes, two or three times daily, when all pain, soreness, stiffness will be re- moved in twenty-four hours. It will also strengthen and harden the mus- cles. Football players, gymnasts, and all athletes will find St. Jacob’s Oil superior to any other remedy for out- ward application, for the reason that its action is more rapid and its effect vermanent. Thousands of people all over the world use and recommend St. Jacob’s Oil for muscular soreness. A twenty-five cent bottle is quite suffi- cient to prove its efficacy. In cases where muscular soreness is compli- cated with any disease which requires an alterative, Vogeler’s Curative Compound should be taken. This is prepared by the proprietors of St. Ja- cob’s Oil, Baltimore, Md.. who will send a sample free on application. Taking High Ground. The Rev. Dr. Nextly, in pursuance of a design to deliver a series of discours- es on the mountains of the Bible, made the following announcement: Next Sunday evening, brethren, I shall preach a sermon on Mount Ararat.” And after the services were over Aunt Ann Peebles went forward to say good- bye and wish him a pleasant voyage and safe return.—Chicago Tribune. The Up-to-Date Baby. It isn't correct any more to have things daintily pretty. It is no longer the proper thing to swathe the little body in yards and yards of muslin an@ lace, and put him in bed with billows of down and silk, perfumed with rose or violet. Up-to-date mothers no long- er vie with each other on the point of delicate elaboration. They do not vie any more at all. Their one object is to make everything as sanitary ad com- fortable as possible for the newcomer. Sometimes they give a sigh for the pretty bow or frill of lace, but, after all, everything in the new fashion looks so clean and sensible and wholesome, they come to see the other was only a perverted taste, and take no pleasure in it. Things have sdvanced in the last few years. The nursery is one of them. Woman's Home Companion. For Her Sisrer’s Sake. Stendal, Ind., March 10th.Mrs. Sarah A. Shrode of this plaice says: “I suffered much as ‘nany other wo- men do with Kidney and Bladder Troubles. I tried many medicines, but got no relief until I used Dodd’s Kidney Pills. “Nine boxes of this remedy cured me completely, and I feel it my duty to my fellow women to make this statement. “I can heartily recommend them to any woman suffering with Kidney and Bladder Ailments.’ The good words ¢f Mrs. Shrode will be good news for mary of her suffering sisters. Dodd's Kidney Pills have prov- en themselves to be sick women’s best friend, for they are as effectual in all cases of Female Weakness as in Blad- der and Kidney Disease. How It Was Done. “Tl match you,” said the sporty girl, “‘to tell whether I'll accept you or not.” “Alas,” replied the foxy suitor, “you are more than a match for me.” Thus, by this compliment, he won her.—Chicago Post. A HARVEST OF COLDS. Nearly everybody is now suffering from some form of a cold. The best most reliable remedy known is Cole’s Cough Cure. All good druggists, 25 and 50 cents. Cause and Effect. “John.” she said to her husband, who was grumbling over his break- fast, “your love has grown cold.” “No, it hasn’t!” he snapped, “but my breakfast has.” “That’s just it. If your love hadn't grown cold, you wouldn’t notice that your treakfast had.’’—Philadélphia Press. Surprise. “Were you surprised when I pro- posed?” he asked. “Well,” she replied, thoughtfully, “I was not so curprised that you pro- posed as I was that you did not pro- pose on some previous occasions.”— Chicago Post. NEW CURE FOR KIDNEYS«BLADDER Bright’s Disease, Rheumati: Tain In th) Bock, Deen ete., yon will upon request be mailed A LARGE TRIAL CASE FREE. Disorders of the Kidneys and Bladder cause ‘ht's Disease, Rheumatism, G: bladder Disorders, difiGult or too frequest Bosttite Spectde Cure ie Youd in a neve , the wonderful Kay botanists the piper meth; . from: ver, East India. It has = Pa severe as to: ye oe Hundreds of dantlar can Miss Viole Dearing, Feirtung. g, Iya E. Sceeareccene en oe this