Grand Rapids Herald-Review Newspaper, September 24, 1904, Page 6

CHAPTER XX!.—(Continued. “And yas to pay you for killing the other Miss Yarwood,” broke in Mr. Stock, quickly. Neal Ormany turned slowly and faced this stranger, who had come in out of the world somewhere to accuse him in this fashion, “You seem to know a iot,” he retorted, looking the lawyer up and down ‘Oo are you, to come, takin’ away the character of a honest man? Tell me anybody that saw me go away from here with the young lady; tell me anybody that saw me at the mill; prove your words.” “J intend to do so. You shall go up to the house with me and face the Miss Grace Yarwood there, and I'll te]. the story. before her. Where will you be then?” “You've got to git me up to the ‘euse first, an’ tell your cock an’ bull story there,” said Ormany. “Come to that, ‘ere’s my son, what'll swear I mever left the camp that, night. Will,” he called, “come ‘ere.” As the younger gipsy came slowly forward Mr. Stock watched him in- tently and wondered what was to hap- pen. The lad did not look at his father; he turned his dark eyes on the lawyer. “One moment, Ormany, before you speak,” said Mr. Stock. “I have just been accusing your father here,” he went on, turning to Will, “of the at- tempted murder of a young lady whom you know. That young lady you saved from death”—Neai Ormany seemed to sinother something in his throat and turned like lightning toward his son— “dragged out of the water and_ be- friended in London. Is that true or not?” Will Ormany dug the toe of his boot , into the ground for a moment and watched the little spurt *of earth he flung up; once he raised his eyes to his father’s, and for a long moment the two looked at each other, then the boy spoke. “There's some mistake, sir,” he said, in a low voice. “I know nothing at ali about it. My father knows noth- ing about it.” “But the lady herself has told me the whole — story, exclaimed Mr. Stock, quickly. “The lady—alive!” broke in Neal Ormany, with an involuntary start. “That surprised you, eh?” snapped the lawyer at him. “Alive and well, my friend; rather a poor look-out for you, ¥ think, when the police know her story.” “gir take,” said the boy again. “You've eot the name wrong, or something.” “No mistake at all, my lad,” said the lawyer, gentiy. I can understand why you should try to shield... this man; if he escapes at all it will be on yow account, and yours alone. As for you,” he added, turning to the father, “I congratulate you on your son." He turned away, leaving the two to- gether. For some moments there was eltence; then the father made a move- ment toward Will, with a threatening gesture of his arm. “So it was you, after all—” he he- gan; but the steady eyes of the boy checked him. “Yes, it was me. I didn’t go away that night. I was lucky enough to save her. When she comes down here—as she must—look to yourself. T can do nothing more. There's blood on yourvhands.as*much as’ though she was washing about—dead—in the riv- er. (ll have nothing more to do with you.” He waiked away, leaving Neal Or many standing, baffled and helpless, staring after him. After a moment or two one consoling thought came to the mind of the elder man. His face broke into a slow, sly laugh. “An’ I went up on’y yesterday an’ told.’er the -girl was dead,” he whis- pered to himself, with a glance in the direction of the house. “If on’y I'd got that money that she keeps putting me off about, I'd be all right; I’ve had a deal too much trouble for fifty quids to cover it!” Mr. Stock had gone on towards the house. Not that he anticipated for a moment that he should do any good, or that he could bring home to the woman there any crime she might have contemplated or arranged for; he knew that she was far too clever for him. “A‘fter“all, she only has the balance of six months to run,”’he murmured to himself, “but such a woman as that time is capable of anything. It is very evident that she has tried to get Grace ‘Yarwood out of the way; if she finds that young Raymond declines to keep the bargain made.for him, she’s. quite capable of getting him out of the way if she sees a chance. And in.that case there would be nothing for it but to hand her the fertune. If I could only frighten her—but she’s not the kind to be frightened!” Miss Grace Yarwood was at home and would be delighted to see him. In- deed she came into the room in which he waited and seemed to be tull of “You have some news for me?” she said, coming forward quickly and clasping his hand. “Yes, I have some news for you,” He found it eagerness and excitement. said Mr. Stock, gravely. difficult to realize that this little, slight, dark woman, who had fitted in , eo well to the position she had usurp- I tell you there’s some mis- | daring in the carrying out of her scheme. Curiously enough, it annoyed the man that he should have to stand before her so helplessly and know in his own mind what sort of a woman she was. | “You will remember that when I left you I said that I had hopes of finding your father in London?” She nodded quickly at him and he went on. “Well, I found him.” ; “Oh, thank heaven!’ ’she ejaculated, with a sudden smile of relief, as it seemed. “Where is he?” “I found him too late, wood. He is dead.” Strive as she would, she could not prevent that one sudden flash of re- lief.and pleasure coming into her eyes, and Mr. Stock would not have been the man he was had he not noticed it. The next moment, however, she reel- ed and fell (it is scarcely necessary to say in his direction), with eyes closed; he caught her somewhat awk- wardly and deposited her on a chair. “I am sorry if I have shocked you,” he said, wavering again in his allegi- ance to the other woman, as he saw the apparently genuine grief of the girl. “If I could do anything—” “Not now—not now, please,” she murmtred, faintly, behind her hands. “You must please leave me; come again—some other time.” He went away, more puzzled than ever, and not quite knowing what the next move was to be. ‘Had he known that, at that very moment, Prof. Tap- ney was working out the beginning of the real solution of the difficulty, he might have been more disturbed than he was already. As a matter of fact, however, the professor, going to Nature in that aim- less fashion of his, had made a dis- covery. Having firmly made up his mind that he would not, under any cir- cumstances, dabble again in affairs he did not understand, and having fully persuaded himself that he did under- stand Nature,, he went in for her, ina manner of speaking, without reserve, and determined that he would strike out a new line for himself and for the family dependent upon him. He had started early that morning, and, with a sublime faith in the mis- Miss Yar- ! tress he followed, went with bare hands into the woods, determined to wrest from her that which was, he considered, his right. Failing, natural- ly enough, to secure anything of any practical value, the professor, after tramping about for some hours, had seated himself under a tree and had fallen to sleep—to dream of flocks of birds, all fluttering about him, de- manding to be stuffed, and of other pleasant. things that suggested pros- perity. And he was awakened in a very curious fashion. Some one was coming straight toward him through the woods, running hard. The professor sat up and listened; he distinctly heard some one crashing through the undergrowth—plunging recklessly along and coming nearer to him with every stride. Under cover of the noise that was made the pro- fessor went on hands and knees and got behind the tree against which he had been leaning. Only just in time; the next moment a man went flying past, and the professor, glancing ner- vously around his tree, recognized Neal Ormany. i Nature, of course, went-to the winds in a moment; impossible stories’ of: ed, should be so utterly reckless and boyhood were revived, and the profes- sor started, as he woutd have describ- ed it, “on the trail.” Indeed, to do him credit, the professor went about the matter very skillfully; dropped his small body flat every time the gipsy, happened to glance round; and was up and after him, taking cover in the most scientific fashion, when the man moved on again. And so, running and bruising, himself very much in his sud- den falls to earth, and finding Nature's bosom by no means as, soft as it might have been, Prof. Tapney finally stood among the trees on the edge of a little clearing, and saw Neal Ormany disappear into a keeper's hut not a dozen yards from where he stood. No sooner had Neal Ormany disap- peared than the professor, with con- spicuous bravery, crept ovt from his shelter and approached the hut. Creep- ing round to the side of it, he found a chink there, and applied one startled eye to it; he saw the gipsy standing beside a rough bed on which lay a man. The man had his face turned to the wall, so that the professor could not tell who he was; but seated at the foot of the bed was another man—a man who bore a striking resemblance to that young Raymond Hawley who had presented the professor with five pounds, for certain services to be ren- dered. And this man and the gipsy were talking. “What! ’E ain’t dead?” asked Neal Ormany. “You seem to be mighty anxious for a funeral, my friend,” said the other, who was, of course, Roger Hawley. There’is an indecent haste about you I don’t like.” “"E ought to ’ave been dead ever so long. ago,”.. said Ormany, savagely. “Nice row I shall git into—” “With the lady, I suppose?” said Roger. “This is my little bit of busi- ness, my friend, and I intend that the gentleman now before us shall recov- er. What brings you here?” “It’s the larst time,” said the gipsy. made to me that ain’t never bin kep’. I ain’t sorry, w’en you come to think of it, that there’ll ke thie little bit up against ’er.” “What a charming man you must be in’ the bosom of your family,” said Roger, with a grin. “It may interest you to know that our friend here will, in all probability, be able to speak soon. I’ve been completing his edu- cation. And then I shall interview the lady at the house and get-a nice little steady income out of her. My dear Bohemian, you’re a hopeless bungler.” “But what about me? What if I go up an’ talk to the lady?” asked Or- many, fiercely. “And tell her you are a species of resurrectionist?” asked Roger. I sug- gest that you have already received a sum of money for burying the gentle- man—eh?” Roger Hawley’s smile was broader than ever. “I think you'd bet- ter go; I’m in possession of the field so far.” The professor was again flat on the ground when Neal Ormany slunk out of the door and, after looking about him for a moment or two, set off again, through the woods.. Having seen him disappear, Prof. Tapney rose to his feet and applied his eye again to the crack. And this time he almost cried out in his excitement. Roger Hawley had got the man in the bed propped up in his arms so that his face was at last seen; and the professor knew him. It was that Owen Jaggard who had been so long advertised for—the man who had so mysteriously disappeared after prom- ising his support to the girl at the gipsy camp. The professor, after mak- ing quite sure that it was the man, suddenly clapped his hand to his hat to prevent it blowing away, ana set out on a long run toward the camp. Running headlong through the wood in that excited fashion, and talking to himself as he ran, he _ blundered straight into the arms of Mr. Stock, the lawyer, who was roaming about aimlessly, half making up his mind to try what a further interview with the gipsy would effect, and half determin- ing to seek out the woman at the house again and endeavor to bring her to her, knees. And as Mr. Stock seized the excited and breathless professor, and shook him with some irritation, the little man gasped out a name. “Owen—Jaggard!” “What do you mean?” asked Mr. Stock, with some excitement for him. “That’s the man we want; where is he?” Prof. Tapney was past speech; he could only gasp and open his mouth and point in one direction. So it hap- pened that in a moment or two Mr. Stock, with a grim, set face, was walk- ing hurriedly back through the woods with the professor. When they came to the hut Mr. Stock roughly thrust open the door and walked in. Roger Hawley was seated at the foot of the bed with his chin in one hand; he raised his eyes lazily toward Mr. Stock as he entered, and, although he was evidently sur- prised, greeted that gentleman as calmly as ever. “My dear Mr. Stock, you seem to be heated and agitated. And who would have suspected to find you in this part of the world? Mrs. Stock well, and the dear children?” “Who is this man?” asked Mr. Stock, bending over the man on the bed, and then glancing quickly at Roger. “Do you know?” “By, name Owen Jaggard—by pro- fession nothing in’ particular--in the matter of health, at the present mo- ment decidedly precaurious; not a life assurance company in the kingdom would pass him,” said Roger, with a laugh. “He has been injured,” said Mr. Stock, quickly. “Do you know how this happened?” “f bélleve that, in an injudicious moment, he threatened the lady known as Miss Grace Yarwood, and was by her reduced to his present condition,” said Roger. “When I picked him up you wouldn’t have given sixpence for his life. Having picked up a little med- ical skill in certain graceless wander- ings, I have patched him up, and he will, I think, live—in all probability to end in a violent fashion.” “So she did it, did she?” asked Mr. Stock, grimly. Then, turning to Roger, he demanded: “Has he spoken yet; has he said anything intelligible?” ’ “Occasionally. If you would like to have a performance in private, I dare say I can stir him up. Being connect- ed with tbe family, I presume you would like to question him. Before you do so, might I ask a question on my own account?” “Certainly, if you wish, What is it?” “Merely this,” said Roger. “There has been another lady claimant to the throne. You, of course, have already decided which is the right one. Do you decide for the very charming beg- gar maid, or do you adhere to the dark-eyed beauty now in possession? lt. is not a matter ,of course, that con- cerns me, but out of mere curiosity 1 would like to know.” “I am convinced that the beggar maid, as you call her, is the right per- son; this man, if we can get him to speak, will decide the matter, I be- lieve.” “Then we will stir him up and be- gin the performance,” said Roger. Whether because of some kindness Roger Hawley had done the man dur- ing those days when he had hovered between life and death, or whether be- cause his voice was familiar, Owen Jaggard seemed to respond to the | question he was asked. When Roger Hawley bent over him and spoke gen- tly enough, he opened his eyes for a moment, and something like a smile flickered over his face. : “Jaggard, here is some one who wants to speak to you,” he _ said. “You'll be doing a lot of good, I be- lieve, if you only answer two or three straight questions, and in | you. can’t do much more harm than peta has been done already. Can you un- derstand me?” The man’s hand closed on that of Roger, and gave it a slight pressure. Roger turned, and nodded quickly to Mr. Stock to step forward. “There is a woman you know who has been passing herself off as Grace Yarwood; did she try to kill you?” asked Mr. Stock. There was a dead silence; the lips of Owen Jaggard were set in a straight, firm line. “He won't answer that,” whispered Roger Hawley. ‘Try again.” “I believe you knew her years ago,” said Mr. Stock. “What was her name then? She stole some papers belong- ing to the real Grace Yarwood. Do you remember?” ¥ “In Nevada,” came the weak whis- per from the man on the bed. “Yes, yes,” whispered Mr. Stock. “Her name?” “Joyce Bland,” whispered Owen Jag- gard. “Joyce Bland,” said Mr. Stock, mak- ing a note of it in a little pocketbook. “The ‘J. B.’ of the letter she wrote me when she first came to England.” CHAPTER XXIil. Roger Makes a Blunder. Mr. Stock’s interview with Jaggard was not a protracted one. That strange, whimsical creature, Roger Hawley, who had constituted himself nurse to the injured man, declared, after a little time, that Jaggard could stand no moré questioning. “You will understand, my dear Mr. Stock,” he said, “that I take quite an interest in this patient. In the first place, I defeat a lady for whom I have the greatest respect, but who tried, I fear, to kill him; and in the second place, it’s such a thousand-to-one chance that it’s rather good to have pulled it off. I managed to set his arm, which was broken, pretty well, and rest and care have done the other part. I shall have him on his legs yet.” Mr. Stock had sufficient information by the time he left the hut to warrant his going at‘once to meet Joyce Bland. He thought he saw his way clearly at last, and he rather looked forward to the interview with her. Accordingly, he went straight to the great house, and inquired, as before, for Miss Grace Yarwood. She was, of course, consumed with anxiety concerning this man’s visits to.the house. Did he, by any chance, suspect anything? Had he heard of the death of the real Grace Yarwood, always supposing that her body had been found and identified? The thing that surprised her most was the fact that no stir had yet been made con- cerning the disappearance of the girl; she set that down to the fact that Grace had no settled home and might readily be supposed to have’ wandered off in some fresh direction. For the sake of appearances she kept Mr. Stock waiting for a little time, and then came, pathetically enough, into the room where he stood where he stood, dabbing at her eyes as she came forward with a diminu- tive pocket handkerchief. His one thought at that time was that she played the game remarkably well. “Pray excuse my appearance, Mr. Stoek,” she said; “I have not yet quite got over the shock of your news to me. My poor father was all | had left in the world.” “Precisely,” he replied, coldly, “but we all have to bear these losses, you know. If your grief is so great, what must be that of his real daughter?” She stopped dabbing at her eyes, and stood quite still, as though anxious to catch every word. As he said noth- ing further, she turned slowly toward him, and spoke in some surprise. “His real daughter, Mr. Stock. atraid I don’t quite understand.” “TI think you do,” he replied. “Please sit down, and I will endeavor to ex- plain my meaning more clearly.” She turned away and sank into a chair, keeping her back to him; even in that moment of excitement she re- membered that it might be necessary for her to control her face. The move- ment on her part gave him his oppor- tunity. He walked to the back of the chair and leaned over it until his mouth was close to her ear; and then he spoke. “Joyce Bland, the game is up.” She stiffened in the chair, and her mouth hardened suddenly; that was all. She turned her head slowly, look- ed into his face, and smiled, with rais- ed eyebrows. “Really, Mr. Stock, you are quite incomprehensible; you are talking in riddles.” “I repeat~Joyee Bland, that the game is up,” said Mr. Stock. “When I tell you that I have this moment left the bedside of a man vamed Owen Jaggard, and that I have tt from his lips—” Mr. Stock was certainly stariled at what he had aroused; the woman sprang out of the chair and turned swiftly, so as to face him. And at last she was desperately at bay. “Jaggard alive!” she exclaimed. “But I— Excuse me, Mr. Stock; if this is some joke it comes in rather poor taste at such a time as this,” she said. “Pray, who is Owen Jaggard?” “The man you knew in Nevada,” he retorted, coolly. “The man who threatened you in the grounds of this house, and whom you struck down and pelieved to be dead. Fortunately he was saved—nursed back to life. -I have had a long interview with him not half an hour ago.” “{ suppose this has some interest for me,” she said, languidly. “Pray go on.” “The Grace Yarwood who claimed the fortune—and claimed it rightly— did not meet with the fate you ar- ranged for her. She is alive and well —and in London,” said Mr. Stock, as calmly as ever. She looked up at him quickly, but Tm any case said nothing; a curious hunted look had come into her eyes. Yet there was fight in her still, Mr. thought, not without admiration, as he looked at her. “We are in possession of all the facts, Miss Bland—” “Why do you call me that name?’ she snapped, irritably. “Because it is the one by which you were known in Nevada and _ other places,” he retorted. “It appears that you secured the papers belonging to a girl who was apparently dying; I sug- gest that you came to England and impudently personated her.” “Suggest what you like, Mr. Stock,” she said, “but proof is necessary. You are making wild assertions about my having arranged some fate for this woman who has claimed what is mine; you speak of a man I tried to kill, and give some rambling account of what he has said to you. Surely, as a lawyer, Mr. Stock, you must know that you require some greater proo! than that?” . “The proof is sufficient for me,” said Mr. Stock. “But your witnesses?” she asked, smiling. “The gipsy you paid for getting rid, as you supposed, of the body of Owen Jaggard, and whom you were going to pay for getting rid of Miss Yarwood, has gone,” said Mr. Stock, reluctant- ly. “There were some reasons why he should not be prosecuted; and he has fled because he fears what might happen to him.” “That's bad for you,” she replied, with a smile, gaining courage a little. “Any one else?” Mr. Stock reflected for a moment. After all, if this woman cared to defy him and to deny every suggestion he made, he did not’see what he was to do. He had no witnesses; the one man who could have spoken was dead, and had died with what Mr. Stock believed to be a lie upon his lips; the words of the man Jaggard might quite easily be set down as the ravings of delirium. The thing resolved itself into this: two women had walked in out of the world and had declared that they were each Grace Yarwood. The thing seemed pretty hopeless, but he was not going to let her see that. (To Be Continued.) HAD A HAPPY OUTLOOK. Amateur Farmer Sought and Received Legal Advice. “T’ve bought a farm about ten miles out of town,” said the man with a black eye, as he entered a lawyer's office. “Exactly—exactly. You’ve bought a farm and you've discovered that one of the line fences takes in four or five feet of your Jana. You attempted to discuss the matter with the farmer, and he resorted to arms.” “Yen.” “Well, don’t worry. You can. first sue him for assault. © Then for bat- tery. Then for personal damages. Then we'll take up the matter of the fence, and I promise you that even if we don’t beat him we can keep the case in court for at least twenty-five years. Meanwhile, he’ll probably ham- string your cows, poison your calves and set fire to your barn, and you can begin a new suit almost every week. My dear man, you've got what they call a pudding, and you can have fun from now on to the day you die of old age.’”—Philadelphia Enquirer. Cheerful Chatter. “Affection,” sneered the pessimist; “all affection is based on the idea of self-preservation. The son loves the father because the father gives him food. The father Joves the son be- cause the son will some day support him. A man loves his friends for what they will bring him. He is faithful to his employer for bread alone.” “Let me question you,” returned the optimist. “Affection, you say, is based on charity?” “Yes,” “Then the more men need charity the greater their affection will be?” “True.” é “In other words, the Jess charity the more affection?” “Certainly.” “Suppose charity fails and none is left. Won't the world %e full of love?” “Humph,” growled the pessimist. “The trouble with you optimists is that you can prove anything you like.” “That's no trouble at all,” said the optimist —-Newark News. A Hard Worker. "You oughter git me a job,” the officeseeker said. “Why, I done the work of a dozen men for you on elec- tion day.” “You did?” replied the successful candidate, incredulonsly. “Suri 1 voted for you twelve ~-Philadelphia Public Ledger. His Last Act. Visitor—So your poor biisband has passed away, Mrs. Murphy? He died happy, | hope? Mrs. ‘Murphy—Oi think so, mum. The last thing he did was to crack me over the head with a medicine botile. —Chicago Journal. No Water for, Him. Naggsby—-What's the use of arguing the matter? You know you are wrong Jaggsby—I may be wrong, but you can’t make me take water.—Philadel phia Inquirer. Noah Was Weatherwise. Noah was up on the roof of the ark,, shingling away, when an insurance agent came along. P “Don’t you want to get that strue- ture insured against fire?” asked the agent. © “Huh!” snorted Noah, looking down. “There ain’t goin’to be no fire, stran- ger—it’s goin’ tew rain.”—Boston Post. Is the man in the moon stuck up? He looks down on ordinary mortals. a Stock | | WASH BLUE| Costs 10 cents and equals 20 cents worth of any other kind of bluing. Won’t Freeze, Spill, Break Nor Spot Clothes OIRECTIONS FOR USEs’ Wiggle Sticks _ around in the water. At all wise Grocers, a a <C) Don’t overeat. Don’t starve. “Let your moderation be known to all men.” Home at the World’s Fair. D.C. Kolp, ex-Chief Clerk of Iowa House of Representatives, is manager Hotel Alta Vista, near Agricultural entrance and is prepared to entertain guests with rooms at $1.00 and cots 50 cents. Electric lights, toilet and bath rooms, eafe. Market street cars direct from Union Station. Highest and coolest point around St. Louis, Official maps of Fair and other informa- tion sent on application. Make reservations now. Changing Color. Nell—Did you ever see such a lob- ster as Mr. Timmid? Belle—Well, he was more like a chameleon last night. He always was green at love-making, you know, but last night he got red and proposed to me; the very next moment he was blue.—Philadelphia Public Ledger. Naggsby—What’s the use of arguing the matter? You know you are wrong. Jaggsby—I may be wrong, but you can’t make me take water.—Philadel- phia Inquirer. Associate with healthy people. “Health is contagious as well as dis- ease.” : ASRS Ss ESSE Allen's Foot-Ease, Wonderful Remedy. “Have tried ALLEN’S FOOT-EASE, and find it to be a certain cure, and gives com- fort to one suffering with sore, tender and swollen feet. I will reeommend ALLEN’S FOOT-EASE to my friends, as it is pertainly a wonderful remedy.—Mrs. N. H. Guilford, New Orleans, La.” Selected Quotations. “What have you there?” asked the magnate of his accomplished daughter. “A recent compilation of selected quotations. It’s fine.” , “Heavens! And I overlooked it. ‘Turn to S and see how Steel preferred is quoted.”—Detroit Free Press . CATCHING THE CROWD. All of Them Wanted the Breath Reno- vator. “Gentleman,” began the fakir, as he arranged numerous bottles on a table at a downtown street corner and pre- pered for business, “has any one in this crowd got the toothache?” No one answered. “Has any one an earache or a head- ache?” “Very well, then; but are you trou- pled with insomnia? Are you low-spir- ited, and do you find yourself thinking of suicide?” The appeal was like the other, in vain. The crowd elbowed each other, but no.ane advanced. “Very well, gentlemen, very well. Now, is there any one here who in- dulges in intoxicants and who wishes to conceal the fact from the women folk? If so, I guarantee that one drop of this marvelous preparation placed on the tongue will instantly remove the odor of any—” There was a mad rush from all di- rections, and for the next five minutes he gave change and passed out the bottles with both hands.—New York Press. CHANGE FOOD. Some Very Fine Results Follow. The wrong kind of food will put the body in such a diseased condition that no medicines will cure it. There 4s no way but to change food. A man in Mo. says: ' “For 2 years I was troubled so with my nerves that sometimes I was pros- ‘trated and could hardly ever get in a full month at my work. “My stomach, back and head would throb so I could get no rest at night except by fits and starts, and always had distressing pains. “I was quite certain the trouble came from my stomach, but two phy- sicians could not help me and all the itonics failed and so I finajly turned to ‘food. ' “when I had studied up on food and learned what might be expected from leaving off meat and the regular food I had been living on, I felt that a change to Grape-Nuts would be just what. was required, so I went to eat- ing it. “From the start I got stronger and better until I was well again and from that time I haven’t used a bit of medicine for I haven’t needed any. “I am so much better in every way, sleep soundly nowadays and am free from the bad dreams. Indeed this food has made such a great change in me that .my wife and daughter have taken it up and we are never without Grape-Nuts on our table now- adays. It is a wonderful sustainer and we frequently have nothing else at all but a saucer of Grape-Nuts and cream for breakfast or supper.” Name given by Postum Co., Battle Creek, Mich. Good food and good rest. These are the tonics that succeed where all the bottled tonics and drugs fail. Ten days’ trial of Grape-Nuts will show one the road to health, strength and vigor. “There's a reason.” ' Look in each pkg. for the famous little book, “The Road to Wellvilie.”