Grand Rapids Herald-Review Newspaper, September 27, 1902, Page 6

OHA R XLVI. (Continued.) “I am sorry if I have done so,” Chris but I should not have done 80 I had been taken by surprise. It 10t that I had taken off my sand put my hair up. Then nk came up and surprised me.” “You have exceedingly grown an y girl, Chris,” Littimer said crit- Of course, I recognize you now. re nicer looking than Miss Lee.” s put her glasses on and rolled ber hair down resolutely. “You will be good enough to under- stand that I am going to continue Miss Lee for the present, she said. “My task fs a long way from being finished yet, Lord are not going *O #end Frank aw Littimer looked undecided. “I didn’t know,” he said, “Frank, I have heard a great deal to-day to cause me to think that I might have done a And yet I am not sure se, it would be bad policy remain here. If the news the ears of Pginald Henson upset Miss Machiavelli's tar it plans “That had not occurred to me for the mom is exclaimed, On the whole, had better not stay. But y like to see you two shake k Littimer made an involuntary n he drew back. ther not,” he my chara en knows I He: fered enough for “And you heve youth on Littimer ly. Whereas “I know, I know. It has on terrible #11 round. I took those letters of poor Maire’, se they were sacred groperty 2 but mine——"” w them. I was -k again. ‘I wish and for » so do I. I took them and de- etroyed them but I take Heaven:to wi that I touched nothing else b2- If it was the last word I ever ed What is that fellow doing tere in th arb? It is one of Hen- son’s most disreputable toois.” Merritt was coming across the ter- race. He paused suspiciously as he aught sight of Frank, but Chris, with « friendly wave of her hand, encour- sged him to come on. “It’s all a part of the game,” she gaid. “I sent for our friend, Merritt. gut when I did so I had no idea that frank would be present. Since you are here you might just as well stay snd hear a little more of the strange loings of Reginald Henson. The time }as come to let Merritt know that 7 am not the clever lady burglar he takes ae for.” Merritt came up, doggedly. Ey dently the presence of Frank Littimer disturbed him. Chris m»vtioned him to # seat quite gaily. “You are very punctual,” she said. “I told you I wanted you to give Lord Littimer and myself a little advice and assistance. In the first place, we want to know where that gun-metal, dia mond-mounted cigar-case, at present for sale in Rutter’s window, came from. We want to know how it got’ there and who sold it to Rutter’s peo- ple. Also, we want to know why Van Sneck purchased a similar cigar-case from Walen’s of Brighton. Merritt’s heavy jaw dropped, his face turned a dull yellow. He looked around helplessly for some means of escape, and then relinquished the idea with a sigh. “Done!” he said. “Clear done. And by a woman, too! A smart woman, I admit, but a woman, all the same. And yet, why didn’t you—” Merritt paused, lost in the contem- plation of a problem beyond his intel- lectual strength. “You have nothing to fear,’ Chris said, with a smile. “Tell us all you know, and conceal nothing, and you will be free when we have done with you.” Merritt wiped his dry lips with the back of his hand. “I come peaceably,” he said, hoarse- ly. “And I’m going to tell you all about it.” CHAPTER XLVI. The Track Broadens. There was an uneasy grin on Mer- ritt’s face, a suggestion that he did not altogether trust those around him. Hard experience in the ways of the wicked had taught him the folly of putting his confidence in anyone. Just for the moment the impulse to shuffle ‘was upon him. “If I say nothing, then, I can’t do any harm,” he remarked, sapiently. “Best, on the whole, for me to keep my tongue between my teeth.” “Mr. Henson is a dangerous man to cross,” Chris suggested. “He is, that,” Merritt agreed. don’t know him as I do.” Chris conceded the point, though she had her own views on the matter. Lit- timer had seated himself on the broad stone bench along the terrace, where he was watching the scene with the greatest zest and interest. “You imagine Mr. Henson to be a friend of yours?” Chris asked. Merritt nodded and grinned. So Jong as he was useful to Henson he -was fairly safe. . “Mr. Merritt,” Chris asked, sudden- “have you ever heard of Reuben ylor?” The.effect of the question was elec- trical. Merrit’s square jaw dropped with a click, there was fear in the fur- tive eyes that he cast around him. “JT read all about Reuben Taylor in one of our very smart papers lately,” Chris went on. “It appears that Mr. Taylor is a person whom nobody seems to ‘have seen, but who, from “You | By Fred M. White Slind time to time, does a vast service to the community at large. He is not exact- ly a philanthropist, for he is well re- warded for his labors both by the po- lice and his clients. Suppose Mr. Merritt here, had done some wrong?” “A great effort of imagination,” Lit- timer murmured, gently. “Had done something wrong, and an enemy or quondam friend wants to ‘put him away.’ I believe that is the correct expression. In that case, he does not go to the police himself, be- cause he is usually of a modest and re- tiring disposition. No; he usually puts down a few particulars in the way of a letter, and sends it to Reuben Taylor, under cover, to a certain ad- dress. Is not that quite correct, Mr. Merritt?” “Right,” Merritt said, hoarsely. ‘Some day we shall find out who Tay- lor is, and—” “Never mind that. Do you know that the night before your friend, Mr. Henson, left the castle he placed in the postbag a letter addressed to Reuben Taylor? In view of what I have read recently in the paper alluded to, the name struck me as strange. Now, Mr. Merritt, is it possible that letter has anything to do with you?” Merritt did not appear to hear the question. His eyes were fixed on space; there was a sanguine clenching of his fists, as if they had been about sthe throat of a foe. “If I had him here!” he murmured. “Tf I only had him here! He’s given me away. After all that I have done for him, he’s given me away.” His listeners said nothing; they fully appreciated the situation. Merritt's presence at the castle was both dan- gerous and hazardous for Henson. “If you went away to-day you might be safe?” Chris suggested. ‘Aye, I might,” Merritt said, with a cunning grin in his eyes, “if I had a hundred pounds.” Chris glanced significantly at Litti- mer, who nodded and took up the par- able. “You shall have the money,” he said, and you shall go as soon as you have answered Miss Lee’s questions.” Merritt proclaimed himself eager to say anything. But Merritt’s informa- tion proved to be a great deal Jess than she had anticipated. “I stole the picture,” Merritt con- fessed. “I was brought down here on purpose. Henson sent to London, and said he had a job for me. It was to get a picture from Dr. Bell. I didn’t ask any questions, but set to work at once.” “Did you know what the picture was?” Chris asked. “Bless you, yes; it was a Rembrandt engraving. Why, it was I who, in the first place, stole the first Rembrandt from his lordship, yonder, in Amster- dam. I got into his lordships’s sit- ting room by climbing down a spout, and I took the picture.” “But the other belonged to Van Sneck,” said Chris. “It did; and Van Sneck had to leave Amsterdam hurriedly, being wanted by the police. Henson told me that Van Sneck had a second copy of the ‘Crim- son Blind,’ and I had to burgle that, as well; and I had to get into Dr. Bell’s room and put the second copy in his portmanteau. Why? Ask somebody wiser than me. It was all some deep game of Henson’s, only you may be pretty sure he didn’t tell me what the game was. I got my money and re- turned to London, and, till pretty re- cently, I saw no more of Henson.” “But you came into the game again,” said Littimer. “Quite lately, you lordship. I went down to Brighton. I was told as Bell had got hold of the second Rembrandt, owing to Henson’s carelessness, and that he was pretty certain to bring it here. He did bring it here, and I tried to stop him on the way, and he half- killed me.” “Those half-measures are so unsat- isfactory,” Littimer smiled. Merritt grinned. He fully appreci- ated the humor of the remark. “That attack ard the way it was brought about were suggested by Hen- son,” he went on. ‘If it failed, I was to come up to the castle here without delay and tell Henson so. I came, and he covered my movements while I pinched the picture. I had been told that the thing was fastened to the wall, but a pair of steel pliers made no odds to that. I took the picture home, and two days later it vanished. And that’s all I know about it.” “Lame and impotent conclusion,” said Littimer. “Wait a moment,” Chris cried. “You found the diamond star, which you pawned—” “At your request, miss. Don’t go for to say as you’ve forgotten that.” “I have forgotten nothing,” Chris said, with a smile. “I want to know about the cigar-case.” yt Merritt looked blankly at the speak- er, Evidently this was strange ground to him. “I don’t know anything about that,” he said. ‘What sort of a cigar-case?” “Gun-metal set with diamonds. The same case, or a similar one, to that purchased by Van Sneck from Walen’s in Brighton. Come, rack your brains a bit. Did you ever see anything of Van Sneck about the time of the acci- dent? You know where he is?” “Yes. He’s in the county hospital at Brighton. He was found in Mr. Steel’s house, nearly dead. It’s com- ing back to me now. A gun-metal ci- gar case set in diamonds. That would be a dull thing with sparkling stones all over it. Of course! Why, I saw it in Van Sneck’s hands the day he wes assaulted. I recollect asking him where he got it from, and he said that it was a present from Henson. He was going off to meet Henson then by the corner of Brunswick Square.” “Did you see Van Sneck again that day?” aime oe Gea SETE — “Later on, in the afternoon. We went into the Continental together. Van Sneck had been drinking.” “You did not see the cigar-case on “No. Van Sneck gave me a cigar, which he took from a common sort of ¢ase that they give away with seven cigars for a shilling. I asked him if he had seen Henson, and he said that he had. He seemed pretty full up against Henson, and said something about the latter having played him a scurvy trick, and he didn’t like it, and that he’d be even yet. I didn’t take any notice of that, because it wasn’t any new thing for Henson to play it low down on his pals.” “Did anything else happen at that interview?” Chris asked, anxiously. “Think.! The most trivial thing to you would, perhaps, be of the greatest importance to us.” Merritt knitted his brows, thought- fully. “We had a rambling kind of talk,” he said. “It was mostly Van Sneck who talked. I left him at last be- cause he got sulky over my refusal to take a letter for him to Kemp Town.” ‘Indeed! Do you recollect where that letter was addressed to?” Well, of course I’ve forgotten the address; but it was to some writing man—Stone, or Flint ,or—” “Steel, perhaps?” “That’s the name! David Steel, Esq. Van Sneck wanted me to take that let- ter, saying as it would put a spoke in Reginald Henson’s wheel; but I didn’t see it. A boy took the letter at last.” “Did you see an answer come back?” “Yes, some hour or so later. Van Sneck seemed to be greatly pleased with it. He said he was going to make an evening call late that night that would cook Henson’s goose. And he was what you call gassy about it: said he had told Henson, plump and plain, what he was going to do, and that he was not afraid of Henson or any man breathing.” Chris asked no further questions for the moment. The track was getting clearer. She had, of course, heard by this time, of the letter presumably written by David Steel to the injured | man, Van Sneck, which had been ‘dis- covered in his pocket by Dr. Cross. The latter had been written, most as- suredly, in reply to the note Merritt had just alluded to, but certainly not written by David Steel. Who, then, seeing that it was Steel’s private note paper? The more Chris thought over this, the more she was puzzled. Hen- son could have told her, of course, but nobody else. Doubtless, Henson had started on his present campaign with a dozen dif- ferent schemes. Probably one of them called for a supply of Steel’s note pa- per. Somebody unknown had _ pro- cured the paper, as David Steel had testimony in the form of his last quar- ter’s account. The lad engaged by Van Sneck to carry the letter from the Continental to 15 Downsend Terrace, must have been intercepted by Hen- son, or somebody in Henson’s: pay, and given the forged reply, a reply that act- ually brought Van Sneck to Steel’s house on the night of the great adven- ture. Henson had been warned by the somewhat intoxicated Van Sneck what he was going to do, and he had pre- pared accordingly. A sudden light came to Chris. Hen- son had found out part of their scheme. He knew that David Steel would be probably away from home on the night in question. In that case, having made certain of this, and hav- ing gained a pretty good knowledge of Steel’s household habits, what easier than to enter Steel’s house in his ab- sence, wait for Van Sneck, and murder him then and there? It was not a pretty thought, and Chris recoiled from it. “How could Van Sneck have got into Steel’s house?” she asked. ‘For I know, for a fact, that Mr. Steel was not at home, and that he closed the door carefully behind him when he left the house that night.” Merritt grinned at the simplicity of the question. It was not worthy of the brilliant lady who had so far got the better of him. “Latch-keys are very much alike,” he said. ‘Give me three latch-keys, and I will open ninety doors out of a hundred. Give me six latch-keys, of various patterns, and I will guarantee to open the other ten.” “T had not thought of that,” Chris admitted. “Did Van Sneck happen, by any chance, to tell you what he and Henson had been quarreling about?” “He was too excited to tell anything properly. He was jabbering some- thing about a ring all the time.” “What sort of a ring?” “That I can’t tell you, miss. I fancy it was a ring that Van Sneck had made.” “Made! Is Van Sneck a working jeweler, or anything of that kind?” “He's one of the cleverest fellows with his fingers that you ever saw. Give him a bit of old gold and a few stones, and he’ll make you a bracelet that will pass for antique. Half the so-called antiques picked up on the Continent have been faked by Van Sneck. There was that ring, for in- stance, that Henson had, supposed to be the property of some swell he called Prince Rupert. Why, Van Sneck cop- ied it for him in a couple of days, till you couldn’t tell t’other from which.” Chris choked the ery that rose to her lips. She glanced at Littimer, who had dropped his glass, and was re- garding Merritt with a kind of frozen, pallid curiosity. Chris signalled Litti- mer to speak. She had no wirds of her own for the present. “How long ago was that?” Littimer asked, hoarsely. “About seven years, speaking from memory. There were two copies made —one from description. The other much more faithful. Perhaps there were three copies, but I forget now. Van Sneck raved over the ring; it might have been a mine of gold for the fuss he made over it.” Littimer asked no further questions. But, from the glance he first gave to Chris and then to his son, the girl could see that he was satisfied. He knew, at last, that he had done his son a grave injustice—he knew the truth. It seemed to Chris that years had slipped suddenly from his shoulders. His face es still grave and set; his eyes were hard, and the gleam in them was for the man who had done him this terrible injury. “TI fancy we are wandering from the subject,” Chris said, with commend- able steadiness. “We will leave the matter of the r: Out of the question. Mr. Merritt, I don’t propose to tell you too much, but you can help me a little farther on the way. That cigar-case you saw in Van Sneck’s possession passed to Mr. Henson. By him, or by somebody in his employ, it was sub- stituted for a precisely similar case, in- tended for a present to Mr. Steel. The substitution has caused Mr. Steel a great deal of trouble.” i “Seeing:as Van Sneck was found, half-dead, in Mr. Steel’s house, and seeing as he claimed the cigar-case, what could be proved to be Van Sneck’s, I’m not surprised,” Merritt grinned. “Then you know all about it?” “Don’t know anything about it,” he growled, doggedly. “I guessed that. When you said as the one case had been substituted for the other, it don’t want a regiment of schoolmasters to see where the pea lies. What you've got to do now is to find Mr. Steel’s case.” “I have already found it, as I hinted to you. It is at Rutter’s in Moreton Wells. It was sold to them by the gentleman who had given up smoking. I want you to go into Moreton Wells with me to-day and see if you can get at the gentleman’s identity.” Mr. Merritt demurred. It was all very well for Chris, he pointed out in his picturesque language. She had her little lot of fish to fry, but, at the same time, he had to draw his money and be away before the police were down upon him. If Miss Lee liked to start at once—” “I am ready at any moment,” Chris said. “In any case, you will have to g oto Moreton Wells, and I can give you a little more information on the way.” “You had better go along, Frank,” Littimer suggested, under his breath. “I fervently hope now that the day is not far distant when you can return together; but for the present your presence is dangerous. We must give that rascal, Henson, no cause for sus- picion.” “You are quite right,” Frank replied. “And I'd like to shake hands now, dad.” Littimer put out his hand without a word. The cool, cynical man of the world would have found it difficult to utter a syllable just then. When he looked up he was smiling. “Go along,” he said. “You're a lucky fellow. That girl’s one in a million.” The dog-cart, driven by Chris, brought herself and her companion in- to Moreton Wells in an hour. Frank had struck off across country in the direction of the nearest station. The appearance of himself in Moreton Wells on the front of a dog-cart from the castle would have caused a nine- days’ wonder. “Now, what I want to impress upon you is this,” said Chris. “Mr. Steel’s cigar-case was stolen, and one belong- ing to Van Sneck substituted for it. The stolen one was returned to the shop from which it was purchased al- most immediately, so soon, indeed, that the transaction was never even entered on the books. We are pretty certain that Reginald Henson did that, and we know that he is at the bottom of the mystery. But, to prevent any- thing happening, and to prevent our getting the case back again, Henson had to go farther. The case must be beyond our reach. Therefore, I de- cline to believe that it was a mere co- incidence that took a stranger into Lockhart’s directly after Henson had been there to look at some gun-metal cigar-cases set in diamonds. The stranger purchased the case, and asked for it to be sent to the Metropole to ‘John Smith.’ With the hundreds of letters and visitors there, it would be almost impossible to trace the case or the man.” “Lockhart’s might help you.” “They have, as tar as they can. The cigar-case was sold to a tall American. Beyond that it is impossible to go.” A meaning smite dawned on Mer- ritt’s face. “They might have taken more no- tice of the gentleman at Rutter’s,” he said, “being a smaller shop. I’m going to admire that case and pretend it be- longed to a friend of mine.” “I want you to try and buy it. for me,” Chris said, quietly. Rutter’s was reached at length, and, after some preliminaries, the cigar- case was approached. Merritt took it up, with a well-feigned air of astonish- ment. “Why, this must have belonged to my old friend, B——,” he exclaimed. “It’s not new?” “No, sir,” the assistant explained. “We purchased it from a gentleman who stayed for a day or two here at the Lion, a friend of Mr. Reginald Hen- son.” “A tall man?” said Merritt, tentat- ively. “Long, thin beard and slightly marked with smallpox? Gave the name of Rawlins?” ‘That's the gentleman, sir. Perhaps you may like to purchase the case?” The purchase was made in due course, and together Chris and her queer companion left the shop. “Rawlins is an American swindler of the smartest type,” said Merritt. “If you get him in a corner ask him | what he and Henson were doing in America, some two years ago. Raw- lins is in this little game for certain. But you ought to trace him by means of the Lion people. Oh, lor’! ” Merritt slipped back into an entry as a little, clean-shaven man passed along the street. His eyes had a dark look of fear in them. “They’re after me!” he said, huski- | ly. “That was one of them.| Excuse me, miss.” Merrit darted away and flung him- self into a passing cab. His face was dark with passion; the big veins stood out on his forehead like cords. “The cur,” he snarled—“the mean cur! I'll be even with him yet. If I can only catch the 4:48 at the Junc- tion I'll be in London before them. And I'll go down to Brighton, if I have to foot it all the way, and once I get there, look to yourself, Reginald Hen- son! A hundred pounds is a good sum to go on with. I'll kill that cur—I’ll choke the life out of him. Cabby, if you get to the Junction at a quarter to five I'll give you a quid.” “The quid’s as good as mine, sir,” Cabby said, cheerfuliy. “Get along, Meanwhile, Chris’ had returned, thoughtfully, to the dog-cart, musing over the last discovery. She felt quite satisfied with her afternoon’s work. Then a new idea struck her. She crossed over to the postoffice and dic- tated a long telegram, thus: “To David Steel, 15, Downend Ter- race, Brighton: “Go to Walen’s and ascertain full description of the tentative customer who suggested the firm should procure gun-metal cigar-case for him to look at. Ask if he was a tall man, with a thin beard and a face slightly pock- marked. Then telephone result to me here. Quite safe, as Henson is away. Great discoveries to tell you. u —Christobel Lee.” Chris paid for her telegram and then drove thoughtfully homeward. (To Be Continued.) ONE FAMOUS MAN'S WIFE. Madame Talleyrand Thought Denon Was Robinson Crusoe—Husband's Excuse for Merrying Her. Apropos of a recent sale in London of a first copy of “Robinson Crusoe” and a second edition of “The Farther ‘Adventures,” dated 1719, for the sum of $1,225, the Literary World revives an enjoyable story of Mme. Talley- rand’s appreciation of “Robinson Cru- soe:” “Talleyrand used to excuse his mar- riage with a woman so lacking in tact and sense, on the ground that clever women might compromise their hus- bands, whereas, stupid women only compromised themselves. One day Denon, the famous Egyptologist, dined with the Talleyrands. M. Talleyrand instructed his wife to read Denon’s books. She, dutifully, went to the li- brary, but on the way forgot the name. Ske could only remember she wanted the book of a famous traveler, whose rame ended in “on.” The librarian gave her “Robinson Crusoe.” Mme. Talleyrand read the book, marveling that a great traveler could write such an interesting work. At dinner she astonished her guest by suddenly ex- claiming: ‘Mon Dieu, monsieur, great jcy you must have felt on your island when you found Friday!’” Paper Shirt Fronts in Use. A paper shirt front is one of the lat- est articles or apparel worn by waiters who are expected to appear in full dress while on duty. The observer was a visitor recently at one of the popular suburban resorts, where the waiters all displayed a weaith of im- maculate white bosom, on each of which were a couple of neat studs. It looked as though they had received a supply of fresh linen from the laundry, until one of them carelessly allowed his low vest to become unbuttoned, and the secret was out, with the shirt front, the latter of which was drawn up in such a way as to expose a cheap and dirty negligee shirt, that was not at all in keeping with the conditions otherwise presented. Paper collars have been worn for several years. Pa- per shirt fronts are of more recent origin. They are, presumably, much cheaper than linen, considering the cost of doing up a starched shirt, and the fact that a clean shirt would have to be donned almost daily.—Brooklyn Times. A Slip. He was telling the story of the en- gaged young man who stopped at the home of his sweetheart on his way to business one morning, just to hold her hand for a moment. “The young man rang the bell,” said the story-teller, “and asked the maid to announce him. Pretty soon the girl poked her head out of the bath room door and cried: ‘Hello, Jack, dear!’ ‘Hello!’ Jack called back. ‘Come on down.’ ‘I can’t, Jack, I’m in my bath.’ ‘But I won’t keep you a moment.’ ‘I haven’t er—got—er—er—anything on, Jack,’ was the hesitating reply. ‘Well,’ said Jack, ‘slip on something and come down.— “So,” concluded the story-teller, “she slipped on the top step and came down.” Everybody laughed but one man. He looked as though in deep thought for a second, and then cried: “You don’t get me to bite on that gag.”—New York Evening Sun. Paderewski a Polish Patriot. Ignace Paderewski, the pianist, is an ardent Polish patriot; the only fact, it is said, which has stood between him and a title from the czar. He has again proved his patriotism by subscribing to the Bank of Ziemski, which is being organized at Posen, to couteract the Germanization of the province. One of his objects is to acquire estates, sub- divide them and sell to Polish peas- ants. Another object is to assist Pol- ish manufacturers in mercantile enter- prises.—Concert Goer. He Could Wait. “Say,” remarked the impatient pas- senger on the New York cross-town car, “don’t you ever go any faster than this?” “Don’t get gay,” snapped the con- ductor, “if this don’t suit yer, yer kia git out an’ walk.” “Oh! I’m not in such a hurry as all that,” replied the passenger, sarcas- *ically.—Philad2lphia Press. Up to the Standard. “There’s a fellow here,’”’ said the lo- quacious landlord of the tavern at Polkville, Ark., ‘that had a spell of ‘sickness, an’ ever since then he can’t remember who he is, or where he’s been, nor anything he ever done,” “Ah!” replied the tourist, ‘I pre- sume his friends will send him to a sanitarium.” “Gosh, no! We all feel sorry fo- him, an’ we're talkin’ of turnin’ in and electin’ him to the legislature.”—Judge. A Born Collector. “I believe,” said the proud mother, “that our little Willie is born to be- come a-multimillionaire.” “Does he want to‘go to work?” asks | ° the doubting father. “No; but he don’t seem to under- stand the least thing about art.’ Judge. Uncle Eben. “Some er de loudes’ talkin’ reform- ers,” said Uncle Eben, “makes me think of a baldheaded man goin’ ’roun’ sellin’ hair restorer.”—Washington Star. A Fortune. “Pijjit has a fortune in sight now.” “What’s his scheme?” : “ping-pong that can be played in an automobile.”—New York Times. DON’T GIVE UP. Don’t be discouraged by past ef- forts to find relief and cure from the myriads of ills that come from sick kidneys. You may pass nights of sleepless tossing,annoyed by frequent urination. Your back may ache like a toothache or sudden twitches and twinges of backache pain make life a misery. Perhaps you have nervous spells, are weak, tired-out, depressed. There is a cure for all of this and for every trouble of the bladder and kid- neys. Read this case and note it tells how well the cure was tested: Charles Lindgren, sealer of freight cars on the L. S. & M. S. R. R., La Porte, Ind., says: “I have greater faith in Doan’s Kidney Pills to-day than I had in the fall of 1897 when [ began taking them and made a pub- lic statement of the result. At that time I had suffered with lameness and soreness of the back, which was so excruciating that I could scarcely turn in bed, and Doan’s Kidney Pills completely cured this trouble. I am always ready to endorse Doan’s Kid- ney Pills personally to anyone requir. ing a kidney remedy. After a lapse of three years I make this statement, which shows my undoubted faith in the preparation.” A FREE TRIAL of this great kid ney medicine, which cured Mr. Lind- gren, will be mailed on application to any part of the United States, Address Foster-Milburn Co., Buffalo, N. Y. For sale by all druggists, 60 cents per box. Opium Among Thieves. After a gun (crook) has grafted for some time his nervous system becomes affected and he needs a_ stimulant. Most of grow addicted either to oplum, choloral, morphine or whiskey. Even at this early period I began to take a little opium, and when a grafter is doped he is very reckless. I will say one thing for opium, however. That drug never makes a man careless of his personal appearance. A grafter who drinks will do down and out as a bum, but an opium fiend never forgets to dress well.—Leslie’s Monthly. Not a Summer Affair. Gobang—I intend to propose to that girl next November. Mijit—Why not propose now, if you love her? Gobang—Great smoke, no! I want to marry her. This is a serious matter with me.—Judge. Humbugged the Humbugs. Minister (visiting prison)—How can you say there have been successes in your life.?” Bunco Pete—Why, man, in my time I've flimflammed a phrenologist, a writer of detective stories, a character reader, and a criminologist.—Judge. A Great Saving. Mrs. Buster-—-Mrs. Jasper is making her own clothes now. They ought to be rich soon. Mrs. Redhead—Oh, I don’t know. Her husband is living in restaurants in the meantime.—Judge. The Logic of It. “Helen said she was tired of having people agree with her about every- thing.” “Well, she’s just broken off her en- gagement with Jack. They had a lit- tle disagreement.”—Detroit Free Press. Undisputed for Half a Century. It is a remarkable fact, which for half a century has not once been dis- puted, that St. Jacob’s Oil never fails to cure shooting pains in the arms, legs, sides, back or breast, or soreness in any part of the bedy. It has for fifty years been guaran- teed by the proprietors, St. Jacobs Oil, Ltd., Baltimore, Md., to promptly cure lameness, sciatica, rheumatism, lum- bago, stiff and swollen joints, stiff back, and all pains in the hips and loins, strains, bruises, burns, scalds, toothache, chilblains, and all aches and pains. St. Jacobs Oil costs 25 cts and 50 cets.; sold wherever a druggist is found. Professional Jealousy. Pennibs—Have you read my last po- em; Inkerton—Your last, did you say? Pennibs—Yes. Inkerton—Well, I hope so.—Chicago News. A Giddy Insect. “Your mamma,” said Papa Moth to his eldest son, “is the giddiest insect I know.” “Why, papa?” “She is continually attending cam- phor balls.”—Detroit Free Press. Pea Sostors als try Burdock Blood rs, ‘ures dyspepsia, constipation; invigorates the rik ata eet The Chasm Between Thomas and Tom. Mr. Johnson promises to restore the Jeffersonian simplicity. But it is a Jong chasm between’Thomas and Tom. Florida Times-Union (Dem.) A. W. H. Reen, Pharmacist, 303 Main St., Peoria, Ill., says: ‘I Have sold Cole’s Car- bolisalve and Carbolisoap for twenty yeara and can consistently recommend tl to all. They always give satisfaction.” The first time a man attempts to ride a bicycle he imagines he knows how it feels to fall out of a balloon. The man who goes all the gaits will become unhinged after a while. One way to get rich quickly is to make haste slowly.