Grand Rapids Herald-Review Newspaper, October 31, 1903, Page 6

urse ¢ Carrington By K. TEMPLE MOORE. in -- x % x CHAPTER Vil. “Laurie!” What had come to the girl? heaven, what? No answer. A volume of smoke rushed between them and shut her from his sight. Along the deck to their very feet the fire came creeping. And the crackling of the flames along the timber seemed to Clive Carrington like the craunch- ing of human bones between the teeth @reat of beasts. A cry came up from the boat below: “We can’t wait longer. Bracken, Bracken!” “One moment!” Clive shouted. He dashed across to where Laurie Lisle stood. He caught her protesting hands in a gras» of iron. “There is no time to be lost! For God's sake, for my sake—go, go, go!” “For your sake!” she echoed horse- ly, and strove to wrest her hands from his fierce hold. “How dare you!” “Daref This to me—from you, my love—my own—my wife to be!” His eyes were blazing; his broad | chest heaving. She drew herself up with the haugh- | ty scorn of a young empress—a lofty, ; white-robed figure, against that splen- | dor of sea and sky. | “Never! You wrought me wrong | enough when you made me the daugh- ; ter of a convict!” “yn ¥ He fell back a step or two with a pale, dazed face. And this was how they met, these two—in doubt, in dire despair, in the grim shadow of death. A shower of fiery cinders fell about them. “Laurie!” A sudden fear came to him—a fierce, awful dread—that shook him from head to foot. “She is mad!” he cried, frantically. “She is mad—she is mad!” “No!” the girl burst out, passionate- ty. “I wish to God Iwas! I-—” And she reeled and fell at his feet. He caught up the prostrate figure in | his arms as he might have lifted a child. He pressed hot, hungry kisses on the beautiful, lifeless face. He} heard a dull sound below. He glanced | him- over. Bracken had recovered self, had seized the ropes, and had swung himself into the boat, unob- | served. “One more!” a voice cried. “Pull off!” again urged Bracken. “Wait, men!” They rested on their oars at the sound of that ringing, authoritative voice. They looked up with a kind ot awe at the picture before them—a grand, herculean figure, black against _ @ Sheet.of flame, holding aloft in his strong arms a white, unconscious bur- den, and encompassing them both in Mts wild glory the weird, red light of the burning ship. “One—only one more!” came a voice from the water. “Leave the girl! She’s as good as dead already. Come on!” For answer he leaned far over the crumbling deck’s side, and lifted her down. “Take her!” A growl of discontent surged up from below, but they held up their | arms and took her from him, and low- ; ered her down gently enough. The boat drew off. Slowly but sure- | ty—ever surely—the distance between the doomed ship and the frail plank of hope widened—widened! The sailors looked back with dim, terrified eyes at that tall, solitary fig- ure, framed in with fire. With a faint moan, reason’ came | back to the woman he had given his } life to save. She staggered to her knees. She looked back. She under- stood. He was dying for her. A great passion of love and remorse overwhelmed her. She stretched out | her arms with a cry—a maddened ery that reached him above the hoarse roar of the Atlantic, and nerved his beart for the struggle of death. “Oh, Clive, Clive! beloved, beloved! forgive me, forgive me! I cannot live without you! I cannot—I will not! Oh, my darling, [ come, I tome, | come!” She had risen. She was striving, in her frenzy, to leap overboard. She struggled desperately with the strong arms that strove to thrust her back. Her hands were outstretched; her eyes, wild and dilated, were fastened on the fast-fading form of her lover. “Clive—" But the word died on her lips. For even as she spoke, with a mighty crash the Dolphin tore itself apart, the flames upleaped, the sea seemed a thing of fire, and the dark figure on the deck had vanished. Her hands beat the air blindly a moment. Then she swayed heavily to id fro, and fell like one dead. And her loose hair drifted across her breast like a shroud of gold. The ship went down in the waters, blood-red. The wind awoke with a moaning dirge. In the east the chill day shuddered to ghastly life. { the house and the. number ' vehicle, and a lady alighted—a lady | | erative discrimination were blended. And the boat drifted on, like a phan- tom »%arque, in the pallid dawning! CHAPTER Vill. “She Is Dead!” ‘lwo weeks later, An October day, od an October day in London, You know wbat that means, It means weather cold, dreary, prophetic. It means gay shops and crowded shops. It means a world of wealth and fashion that brushes its silken skirts against a,world of poverty and ignorance in callous indifference. Down Regent street—down that great vein in the heart of a great city —drifted one atom with which our story deals—a woman. A woman, clad in dark, mournful robes, with a black searf wound above her bright, rebellious hair; a woman with a face that might have been torn from beneath the brush of an Angelo. A face exquisitely chiseled, abso- lutely colorless, beautiful with the beauty of its own pathetic despair. More than one of those languid loi- terers started at sight of the girl’s un- | girlish face; more than one paused and looked back. ki At an Italian’s fruit stand, in a bleak corner, she stopped in blank uncer- tainty. “Will you show me the way to Lin- coln’s inn?” she questioned gently. The little foreigner looked at her a moment in wordless admiration. Then | he stepped forward and pointed out the direction in which she should go, with grinning gallantry. re “Bellisima!” he muttered—“bellisi- ma!” ‘ She hurried along eagerly, blindly, quite unconscious of the’ curious | glances bent upon her. She found Lincoln’s inn. She found of him | whom she sought. She remembered the address and the name of the lawyer whom her grandfather had mentioned in his letter to her father as residing in London. There were several clients in the ante-room when she entered. She must wait her turn. A clerk placed a chair for her, a look of curiosity vis-, ible in his face. She sat down by a window and gazed out on the dreary world beyond her, with a face as hopeless as the | | proud to inquire, if she cares. I,” a ; would never have done what I am do- wintry day. Her eyes—purple, blue as sapphires, seemed unnaturally large and brilliant in her white face. Her | cheeks had lost little of their delicate roundness, but all of their rich, soft | bloom. Tick, tick, tick! drened the clock, with maddening monotony. Rumble, rumble, rumble went the whecls on the road beyond. And still that quiet fiz- ure by the window did not move nor speak nor seem to breathe. She sat there, calm, with the very apathy of desolation. Her black, mon- astic robes trailed round her; her lit- tle, childish hands lay loosely on her lap; her face was turned away. A carriage dashed into the court and drew up. before the door below— a carriage drawn by spirited horses, bright with trappings of silver. On the panel was a carved crest, on the box were servants in livery. An office boy glanced out of the win- dow and caught sight of the handsome equipage. ¢ “Hello!” he cried, “her’s the Car- rington turnout ;” : i Carrington! The black-clad figure | near him started sharply. A clerk writing in the corner of the room left his desk and came over to | look, too. A footman opened the door of the | young, but with the figure of a Juno— | tall, regal, well developed; a lady with | a certain imperious grace in her slight- est movement; a lady clad from head to foot in royal purple velvet. The office boy contemplated her a} moment with pleased approval. “Now, she’s what I call a stunner!” he remarked to his friend, in a tone | in which affable patronage and delib- “Did you say Carrington?” ques- tioned a faltering voice beside them. The lad turned and looked a little curiously at Mr. Bowers’ strange cli- ent. Her face was lifted to his with an appealing earnestness pitiful to see. “Yes, ma'am,” with loquacity, “that’s the Carrington carriage, ma’am. The family is in town now. And that young lady as you’ve seen is Miss Cynthia Lennox, Lady Carrington’s ward. Oh, she’s powerful rich!” shaking his head, slowly and impressively. “And they do soy, you know, as how she’s a-going to marry my lady’s son, Mr. Clive Car- rington. He’s han’sum enough to mar- ry a queen, he is! You—you are wl, ma’am?” “Oh, no—no!” she answered, paling, and forced her pale lips to a smile, and crushed her hands together in a straining clasp. And at that moment the door was flung wide, and with a soft sound of her heavy skirts, that was not yet a rustle, Miss Lennox canie into the room. f “Tell Mr. Bowers that I wish to see him,” she commanded, and began to walk rapidly up and down. And she was well worth looking at as she paced to and fro with that long, gliding step of hers, which held in its very grace a suggestion of tigerish- ness. She reminded you of a statue at the Louvre. Her face had the same chaste, cold chiseling, the same sub- tle strength and power one finds in the marble Diana of Versailles. t: Her quick tread slackened slightly as her glance fell on the girl beside the window. That slender, finely. | whieh he had installed himself. ' faced his latest client. molded figure, clad in those soft, som- ber draperies; that beautiful, weary face, irradiated now. with a light which ‘was not a color, but rather the out- ward evidence of an inward fire! For just cne moment the eyes of the two women met—for just one moment. Then Miss Lennox passed into the room beyond, and Laurie Lisle had sunk back in her chair, with a strange chill at her heart. Was it an omen of the things to be? Mr. Bowers rose and placed a seat, with urbane deference, as his client entered the room. A comfortable- looking room, too, with its thick car- pets, its heavy curtains, its bright fire. And a comfortable-looking man, its oc- cupant. A little, round, rosy individ- ual, with a bald head, keen, light, sus- picious eyes, and long side whiskers ot whitening gray—a man with a pru- dently tied tonguc and a scrupulously open air. “Good morning, Miss Lennox—de- lighted to see you, I'm sure! How is her ladyship? You have come to in- quire about those shares of yours? Pray be seated!” “No,” she answered abruptly, quite blind to his bland civility; “I have not come about the shares. Nor have I come on any mission connected with Lady Carrington. ‘She does not even know I have come. My business is wholly and distinctly—mine!” ij He bowed gravely. “Believe me,” with professional dis- certion, “it shall be sacred with me.” She walked hurried away, then came back and stood before him ,tap- ping her foot perplexedly—an irrita- ted, conscious, glowingly handsome woman—her dark eyes were shinng with a vague reslessness. “Mr. Bowers,” she burst out suddea- ly, “you must do something for me! To be explicit, about the end of July Lady Carrington and her son had an | interview which ended in—a differ- | ence of opinion. He left home. I} have discovered that he sold his com- mission—that he did not go to India} with his regiment. Where didhe go? My lady is too indignant to care, too second of hesitation, and then more slowly—"I am not too proud.” “T understand,” with quiet respect. » She looked at hm steadily a mo- ment, a half-defiant expression widen- | ing and lighting her slumberous eyes. “No,” she went on, a little sadly, in a voice that was almost humble in its self-accusation, “I am not proud, or Tj ing to-day. You must find Clive Car- j rington for me. If necessary, you | must employ detectives to aid you. | You must tell me where he is, how ne | is, in what cireumstances—the slight- | est minutiae. My funds are at your | disposal; you shall draw on them as! often as you see fit. You understand?” ; “Perfectly.” “When will you bring me the result of your work?" “In November, if sooner.” “Very well. We are going down to | Blackcastle early in that month. You | must cor:e to me there. Good morn- ing!” A “Goo: morning, Miss Lennox!” the little lawyer answered, with a suave | warmth, and held open the door for her to pass through. And even as she went her costly robes brushed the dusky draperies of a woman who went slowly by her. The information for which she thirsted was nearer than she dreamed, Laurie Lisle passed into the adjoin- ing room with her graceful, weary tread. Mr. Bowers did not rise this time from the huge mahogany desk before He wheeled round on his pivot chair and possible; not “Take a chair,” he said. wth meas- ured politeness—‘take a chair. Well? She sank tiredly to a seat. “T have come to tell you a strange | story, Mr. Bowers,” slowly. “I have a claim on your attention. You will | listen to me?” “Assuredly.” | He was looking at her with a face | full of mingled admiration and bew derment. “About two months ago,” she went | on, speaking as though with an effort, “my father received a letter reques ing that I go to the writer—a relative, residing in Colorado, America. My father died. I went. Half-way over the vessel in which I sailed became a bonfire. After living two days in a life-boat on the open sea, I was among the few rescued by a passing steamer. The steamer was homeward ‘bound, so I was: brought back to London. To day I remembered your name and ad- | dress, both sent to my father by my | grandfather, as that of his English | lawyer. I was quite alone in a strange | city, so I came to you.” “Your name?” he questioned. “You have not told me that. Your name?” “My name is Laurence Lisle. My grandfather’s you know—have known for years—Allan Atherton.” . For a moment his glance rested on her in amazement; then all at once | his professional courtesy seemed‘ to desert him. He broke out laughing.: “You are a fine actress, a capable woman—but you are not able enough to blind me. He of whom you speak so fluently—Allan Atherton—is dead.” “Dead!” “Yes. I have here a copy of his will, The news of his death reached me a week ago. But to continue. He has bequeathed his entire fortune, amounting in American currency to some millions of dollars, unreservedly to his only surviving grandchild, Lau- rence Lisle. In case of her death it of course reverts to his stepson—who was to him as his own son—Cuthbert Bracken.” ' “Ah, I need not have explained so fully! You understand! I am Lau- rence Lisle!” relievedly. | era. | For answer he looked at her excited face with a sorry smile. “I am sorry to contradict a lady. Your story has been very cleverly con- cocted—very nicely and evenly told; but you must remember that she whom you attempt to personate per- ished on board the burning vessel.” She rose to her feet slowly, slowly. She staggered back a step or two, and stood looking at him with a ghastly, terrified face, and dark, dilated eyes. “She! What do you mean! I was saved! My name is Laurence Lisle!” He smiled grimly. “I expected something of this sort,” Brackenm—was here this morning, and he told me of a girl who had been a most intimate friend of the dead wom- an’s—a confident, too, I believe. Knowing she had been rescued, I was prepared for an assertion of her iden- tity as Laurence Lisle.” So this was Bracken’s scheme! Truly, one worthy the man. “T tell you,” desperately, “I am Lau- rence Lisle.” “And I tell you,” deliberately, “she is dead!” Great heaven! what could she say? What proof had she to offer? How could she cope with such subtle dia- bolism? She stumbled rather than walked to the door which he had opened for her. On the threshold she paused, and looked back at him with a face he never forgot—a face white and wild in its hunted, wistful misery. “So I am dead!” she whispered, with a weird, heart-breaking smile — “Tam dead!” She went down stairs, still in that blind, uncertain way, and out into the busy world beyond. Once she paused and put up her hand confusedly to her forehead. “Alone!” she murmured, desperate- ly, ‘Friendless and alone in a great city! Oh, my God!” And then she hurried on—on, igno- rant, heedless, careless of where she | went, one dirge ever throbbing, beat- ing, burning in her brain: “IT am dead—Il am dead—I am dead!” (To Be Continued.) GHOUL-PROOF COFFIN. Rich Man Feared Grave Robbers and ‘ Took Precautions. Because of a life-lon gfear that his grave might be robbed and his body sold, Benson B. Tuttle of Naugatuck, | Conn., one of the wealthiest manufac- turers of Western Connecticut, has just been buried in a steel coffin, which is warranted ghoul proof. For many years Mr. Tuttle spent his leisure moments devising a coffin | which would be as secure from attack as a trust company’s safe. Before his death the coffin was ordered, and as soon as he passed away last Tues- day it was sent to his home in Nauga- tuck. He was laid to rest in it Sat- urday. By an automatic adjustment twelve locks, all of different combinations, snapped together, interlocking large bars when the lid was fastened down. The coffin was placed beneath a granite slab and a sentry stationed to guard it, patrol duty lasting through the night, and he will be given a good sized tent in which to bivouac during stormy weather. None of Mr. Tuttle’s friends know of any reason why he should fear any visitation of ghouls.—New York American. A COOL ENGINEER. Stops a Runaway Freight in Time to Save a Passenger Train. A gravel train got started on a down grade near Roseville station on the Morris & Essex branch of the Lacka- wanna recently without an engine or | a brakeman. It was on a siding open- ing on the westbound track and bid fair to meet an up train before it crossed the Passaic river at Newark. Engineer George Bishop was on a drill engine at the Nesbit street freight yard, nearly a mile from where the runaway cars started. He promptly ran out his engine and crossed to the westbound track to meet the | They were coming so that he had to | meet them under headway. The en- gine stood the collision without seri- ous injury, while only one of the empty dongola cars were thrown off the track. It was soon put back on the rails and pushed on the siding, clear- ing the rals for the passenger train, which was delayed only a few min- utes. The passengers did not know what a narrow escape they had.—New York. Sun. FALSEHOOD PROVED. The Cake Didn’t Make Him Sick, So There. Little Jack, a Mount Airy youngster,. much to the distress of his parents, who are God-fearing people, has de- veloped a penchant for evading the truth. His mother took him to task for telling a fib the other day, where- upon the following conversation en- sued: “Well, mother, you told me a lie this morning, anyhow.” “Why, Jack, what do you mean? Mother wouldn’t tell you a lie. It is wicked to tell lies.” “Well, you did, anyhow.” “Why, Jack, how can you say such athing? If you don’t tell me what you mean I'll whip you.” “You'll whip me anyhow.” “Tell me instantly.” “Well, you know that cake in the pantry that was left over from sup- per.” “Yes,” “You told me not to eat it because it would make me sick.” “Yes, that’s what I said.” “Well, it didn’t, and you're a story- teller; so there.”—Philadelphia Rec- cars. | | alty was to be present, found him in a | movement. HE WORLD'S MENACE MOHAMMEDANISM A GREAT AND GROWING PERIL. Recent Events in the Turkish Empire Have a Dire Significance for the Stu- dent—Aim Is the Conquest of Chris. tianity. There is, however, one quarter of the world, one nation, one people, where and among whom war has been an everpresent possibility for many years, and is apparently now actually beginning. We refer to Turkey, to the Turkish people, and the followers of Mohammed, wherever they may be. The hideous outrages and massacres which have filled Macedonia and oth- er provinces of European Turkey with misery and woe and terror for months past are only symptomatic of the con- dition prevailing in every country where the rule of the unspeakable Turk extends or the tenets of Mo- hammedanism are held by any con- siderable number of people. The deep- est, most menacing and formidable shadow that lies across the pathway of the world’s peace to-day is that of Mohammedanism, says Leslie’s Week- | ly. j These things being true, such upris- ings as that in Morocco, the formid- able outbreak in Macedonia, the grow- ing disaffection in Asia Minor, the orcrations of the Mad Mullah in Somaliland, the rise of the fanatical Senussi in the Soudan, all take upon themselves an ominous significance. The recent predictions of numerous writers in English and French reviews that we are on the eve of a terrible outburst of Moslemite fanaticism may not be fulfilled, but they can hardly be ragarded as a purely alarmist cry. It is also to be borne in mind that the Sultan of Turkey, the chief repre- sentative of the Mosiem faith, has a standing army of over 250,000 men, and a reserve force for war purposes of over 900,000 more, all equipped with the best modern arms and disciplined by the best and most experienced military instructors that Europe af- fords. Fear of death is unknown to them, for they are quite convinced that teir bravery and devotion will be reward! ed in paradise. At Omdurmaa 45,000 dervishes charged down from the western slopes of Kerreri with glint of sword and spearheads to face the Maxim guns of the most powerful umy Great Britain had put into th field in forty years. \ Another element in the situation, nore significant of coming peril than any yet mentioned, lies in the fact that Mohammedanism is increasing faster, relatively, than any other form of faith. It now has a nominal member- ship throughout the world of 176,834, 372, of which, it is claimed, ten mil- ‘ons have been added im the last decade. Mr. Bourne has also described the rapid rise and growth of the Senussi, a fierce and warlike ledgue of Mos- lems, founded some forty years ago, but who have recently established col- onies in Tripoli, Tunis, Algeria and the oases of the Sahara. and are join- ing to their standard thousands’ of wild and lawless people wherever rey ap pear. Their aim, in common with all Moslems, is nothing more nor less than the conquest of the Christian world and the conversion of its peo- | ple by the sword or otherwise to the Moslem faith. A W'S LAPSE OF MEMORY. Queen Victoria's Experiences Befuddled Legislator. An anecdote which has lately been going the rounds in British oftici circles concerns the memorable ex- With | perience of a certain member of Par- | liament during the last year of Queen Victoria’s reign. The statesman’ in | auestion is not one of those who are most firmly convinced of the benefits of total abstinence, and the evening of a certain public function at which roy- condition which would not have been edifying to the supporters of that The late queen was re- ceiving the guests of honor, and it was necessary, that the convivial M. P. should be presented with the rest. As he approached his sovereign Victoria extended her hand for him to kiss. But he did not kiss it; instead he grasped and shook it with vigorous enthusiasm, while he scrutinized her face with grave perplexity. “Your face, madam,” he observed, |“is perfectly familiar to me, but I’m |blowed if I can remember your name!”—Harper’s Weekly. Fruit That Eve Bit. A fruit supposed to bear the mark of Eve’s teeth is one of the many bo- tanical curiosities of Ceylon. The tree on which it grows is known by the significant name of “the forbid- den fruit,” or “Eve’s apple tree.” The blossom has a very pleasant scent, but the really remarkable feature of the tree, the one to which it owes its name, is the fruit. It is beautiful and hangs from the tree in a peculiar man- ner. Orafges on the outside and deep crimson within each fruit has the ap- pearance of having had a piece bit- ten out of it. This fact, together with its poisonous quality, led the Mahom- medans to represent it as the forhid- den fruit of the garden of Eden and to warn men against its noxious proper- ties. A Complaint Verified. “I have almost nothing to wear,” she sighed, But her cruel husband laughed. “I have almost nothing to wear!” she cried, But he only smiled and chaffed. He is now the most penitent of men, And says he has been a brute, For she truly moved him to pity when She came out in her bathing suit, ~Philadeiphia Ledger. Caught on the Rebound. — “No,” said the fair proprietor of the” wife, but I'll be a sister to you.” “Thanks, awfully,” youth who was left at the post. “If there’s one thing that I need more than another, it’s an elderly sister to look after me and prevent me from making a fool of mayself.”—Chicago News. Testing His Nerve. Joseph Wooten, thirty-four years old, a laborer with no home, was charged at the Southweestern police court with stealing two fowls. The prisoner was other being in a dying condition, weer ticing the man looked rather bulky, asked what he had about him. He replied, “Nothing,” but on his clothing being unfastened the two fowls, one of which had been suffocated and the stopped by Detective Rand, who, no- found rammed tightly together around his waist. The prisoner raised a re- markable defense. He stole the birds, he said, to try his nerves. He wanted to see if he could pass a police con- stable with the birds about him with- out trembling from fear.—Londoa Globe. tr The McBride Case Again. St. Johns, Kans., Oct. 26—Mr. and Mrs. William McBride and Jesse L. Limes, M. D., have gone before Mr. George E. Moore, Notary Public, and have sworn and subjected to written statements confirming the story of the awful iliness znd subsequent cure of the Hittie son of Mr. and Mrs. Me Bride. Dr, Limes is particularly emphatie in his statement, and there does not now seem to be any room for doubt as to the fact that Dodd's Kidney Pills, and nothing else, saved the little boy. He was so bad that he had Epileptic spells which seized him with inereas- ing frequency. He was semi-paralyzed in the right side, and his mind was badly affected. In their sworn statement, Mr. and Mrs. McBride say: “The very day we began to use Dodd's Kidney Pills our boy had twen- ty-seven of these Epileptie spells or fits. In less than a week he ceased having them entirely. The case has caused a great sensa- tion in the neighborhood. The sworn statements have confirmed the whole story. Uncle Reuben Says: “] hain’t gwine to argy dat integrity don’t pay one hundred cents on the dollar, but it has allus seemed to me dat some allowance should be made in de case of de eull’ed man who comes home in de ebenin’ an’ finds de stove cold for want of fuel. He orter be allowed to keep his integrity an’ pay a visit to de nearest wood pile at de same time.”—Detroit Free Press. The Bridegroom Explained. “Do you take this woman for better er for worse—” the pastor solemnly repeated, and then the bridegroom in- terrupted him. “Well, you see it’s this way, par- son,” he explained. “She's the last one of five sisters, an’ I had to take what was left. If I’@ spoken up sooner ? might o’ had my pick o’ the lot, but I kep’ on waitin’ an’ waitin’ an’ finally hed to take the leavin’s. Thet’s really the best answer I kin give to your con- undrum, parson. Go ahead:”—Cleve- land Plain Dealer. Society’s “Globe Trotter.” Mrs. Clarence W. Dolan of Philadel- phia, who recently was admitted to the Newport “set,” is the “globe trot- ter” of society. Her husband has a string of country homes extending from Lennox to Paul Beach. Mrs. Dolan is restless and loves to travel. She has deserted Newport for Lenox, but will stay in the Berkshire place for a few weeks only. Then she will open her Hot Springs cottage, but will » go often to her Philadelphia place. She will be in New York for the horse show and the winter season. In Feb- ruary she will go to Aiken and will divide her time between that resort and Palm Beach until she takes a Eu- ropean jaunt. After Europe, Newport, and so on. There are women who travel more than this, but they stay in hotels, not im their own homes that are made ready at three days ‘notice. BUSY DOCTOR Sometimes Overleoks a Point. The physician is such a busy man that he sometimes overlooks a valu- able point to which his attention may be called by an intelligent patient who is a thinker. “About a year ago my attention was called to Grape-Nuts by one of my patients,” says a physician of Cin cinnati. ' “At the time my own health was bad and I was pretty well run downy but I saw in a minute that the theo-| ries behind Grape-Nuts were perfect and if the food was all that was claimed for it it was a perfect food, so I commenced to use GrapeNut¢ with warm milk twice a day and in a short time began to improve in every: way, and now I am much stronger, feel 50 per cent better and weigh more than I ever did in my life. . “I know that all of this good is due to Grape-Nuts and I am firmly con. vinced that the claims made for the| food are true. I have recommended! and still recommend the food to great many of my patients with splen, did results, and in some cases the im- provement of patients on this fine: food has been wonderful. “As a brain and nerve food, in fact as a general food, Grape-Nuts stands alone.” Name given by Postum Co., Battle Creek, Mich. Look in each package for of the famous little book, “The Road to Wellville.” fe 4 > ~