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= UNITED STATES SENATOR FROM SOUTH CAROLINA PRAISES PE-RU-NA, spepsia Is Often Caused By Catarrh of the Stomach—Peruna Relieves Ca- tarrh of the Stomachand Is Thereforea Remedy for Dyspepsia. —e {_ Hon. M. C. Butler, U. S. Senator t from South Carolina for two terms, in a letter from Washington, D. C., { writes to the Peruna Medicine Co., as follows: { «1 can recommend Peruna for } Jyspepsia and stomach trouble. I have been using your medicine for 4 a short period and I feel very much { relieved. Itis indeed a wonderful t medicine, besides a good tonic.’” a eo ATARRH of the stomach is the cor- rect name for most cases of dyspep- Only an internal catarrh remedy, such as Peruna, is available. Peruna Tablets can now be procured. Sometimes after a girl has fished for a man and landed him she doesn’t know how to get him off the, hook. , “ GET A BUSINESS EDUCATION. 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So Sir William Gouldesbrough passed through the crowds of friends and acquaintances who flocked round him in a welter of curiosity and con- gratulation, and came into the inner room where Lord Malvin, Sir Harold Oliver and Mr. Donald Megbie were waiting for him. Tall, suave and self-contained, he bowed and shook hands. Then there was a moment’s pause—they were waiting for him to speak, expectant of what he should say. “I am sorry, Lord Malvin,” he be- gan, “that I have arrived so late at your party. But I was conducting an experiment, and when I was_ half through I found that it was going to lead me much farther than I thought. You know how that happens some- times?” “Precisely, Sir William, and the fact is a scientist’s greatest pleasure very often. Now, may I ask you—you will excuse an old man’s impatience— may I ask you if you have finally suc- ceeded? When I last saw you the composition of the spectrum present- ed a difficulty.” “That I have now completely over- come, Lord Malvin.” Lord Malvin trembled, actually trembled with excitement. “Then the series of experiments is complete?” “Quite. And more than that, I have done, not once or twice, but many times, exactly what I told you { hoped to do. The thing, my lord, is an accomplished fact, indisputable; certain!” Lord Malvin turned to Sir Harold Oliver and Megbie. ‘ “Gentlemen,” he'said, in a clear voice, ‘but full of profound emotion; “the history of life is changed. Wé all must stand in a new relation to each other, to society, and to the world.” * Donald Megbie knew that here was the chance of his literary lifetime. Lord Malvin would never have spoken in this way without due consideration and absolute- conviction. Something. Something very big, indeed, was in the air. But what was it? The jour- nalist had not an idea as yet. He looked eagerly at the aquiline, ascetic face of the inventor, marked the slight smile of triumph that ling- ered round the lips, and noted how the eyes shone—brilliantly, steadily, as if they were lighted from behind. Megbie had seen many nien in many countries. Before everything he was the complete student of contemporary humans, and as he looked keenly at Bir William Gouldesbrough two thoughts came into his mind. One was something like this: You are certain- ly one of the most intellectual and re- markable men now living; you are unique, and you stand upon a pedestal of fame that only one man in several generations ever reaches; all the same, I shouldn’t like to be in your power or to stand in your way. And moreover, the question came to the quick, analytic brain’ of the writer whether the brilliance of those lamp- lit eyes was wholly natural — was wholly sane. These twin thoughts were born and over in a flash, and even as he thought them Megbie began to speak. “Now that Lord Malvin has told us so much, Sir William,” he said, “won’t you tell us some more? -I suppose you know that all the world is waiting for a pronouncement?” “The world will know very soon, Mr. Megbie,” Gouldesbrough answer- ed, pleasantly. “In about a fortnight’s time I am sending out invitations to some of our leading people to witness the result of my experiments in my laboratories. I hope I may have the pleasure of seeing you there also. But if you wish it, I will certainly give you a slight idea of the work. Since the public seem interested in what I am doing, and something seems to have leaked out, I am quité willing that they should know more. And, of rourse, there is no one to whom I would rather say anything than your- self.” Megbie bowed. He was tremendous- ly excited. Brother writers who did not make a tenth of his income, and had not a quarter of his eminence, were wont to say that his ears twitched when in the presence of a great celebrity. This no doubt was calumny, but the journalist stood in an attitude of strained attention—as well a man might stand when the se- cret of the hour was about to be re- vealed to him in preference to all oth- er men. Gouldesbrough bowed to Lord Mal- vin. “I’m going to have half an hour’s conversation with Mr. Megbie,” he safd. “Meanwhile, my lord, I wonder if you would give Sir Harold Oliver a slight technical outline of my pro- cesses. And, of course, as I under- stand this is to be in some sense a night on which your friends are to be given some general information, I shall place myself entirely in your hands as to any revelations you may think proper to make.” sAlS - Daad9?? Alive or Dead? The Strange Disappearance of Gerald Rathbone. By GUY THORNE. 1 i } the days when Sir William and Mar- | done He moyed off with the journalist, leaving the two other men already fallen into a deep talk. “Where shall we go, Mr. Megbie?” he said; as they came out into a large room hung with old Flemish tapestry and full of people. “There is a little conservatory down a corridor here,” Megbie answered. “I expect we should be quite undis- turbed there. Moreover, we could smoke, and I know that you are like me, Sir William, a cigarette smoker.” “That will do very well, then,” Gouldesbrough answéred, and they walked away together. Every one saw them go. Ladies nodded and whispered, gentlemen. whispered and nodded to each other. The occasion was perfectly well understood. Sir William was telling Donald Megbie. By supper time it would be all over the rooms, and the. Eastminster Ga- zette to-morrow afternoon would have all the Getails. “Megbie is always chosen in affairs of this sort.” “That’s Megbie, the writing Johnny, who sort of stage- manages all these things.” “The ubiquitous Donald has got him in his grip, and we shall soon know all the details.” These were the remarks made upon every side as the two men strolled through the rooms. Then an incident that was much commented on next day in society oc- curred quite suddenly. It created quite a little sensation and gave rise to a great deal of gossip. Sir William and Mr. Megbie came to a part of the room where Lady Poole and. her daughter Marjorie were standing talking to Gen. Mayne of the war office. Lady Poole saw the scient- ist. “Ah, William!” she said, somewhat loudly, and quite in her old manner of jorie were engaged. “so here you are, blazing with triumph. Every one’s talking of you, and every one has been asking Marjorie if: she knows what it is you've invented this time!” Megbie, who knew both Lady Poole and her daughter, but did not wish to enter into a conversation just at this important moment, bowed, smiled at the old lady and the girl, and stood a little aside. Gouldesbrough took Lady Poole by the hand and bent over it, saying something in a low voice to her. And once more society nodded and whis- pered as it saw the flush of pleasure in the lady’s face and her gratified smile. Again society whispered and nodded as it saw Marjorie Poole shake hands with her ex-fiance and marked the brightness of her beautiful eyes and saw the proud lips moving in words of friendship and congratula- tion. What Gouldesbrough said in answer to Marjorie was this: “It is so kind and good of you to be pleased, Marjorie. Nothing is more valuable to me than that. I am going to have half an hour with Donald Megbie now. I find that it’s best to tell the general public something at this stage. So I’m doing it through Megbie. He’s safe, you know, and he understands one. But after that will | you let me take you in to have some supper? Do, please, let me! It would just make everything splendid —be the final joy, you know!” “J should be very churlish to refuse you anything to-night, William,” she answered sadly, but with great pride for him in her voice. ‘Haven’t you almost everything for me? You’ve done what no other living man would have done. I shall be very glad and feel very proud if you will come back here for me after you have talked to Mr. Megbie.” Gouldesbrough went away with the journalist. In five minutes every one | in Lord Malvin’s house was _ saying; that Marjorie Poole was engaged to Sir William Gouldesbrough once more. Marjorie watched the two men go away. Her heart was full of pride and pain. She rejoiced that all this had come to the chivalrous gentleman who had been her lover and plighted husband. She felt each incident of his growing triumph with intense sym- | pathy and pleasure. He had been so good to her! From the very first he} had been splendid. If only she could | have loved him, how happy would her lot have been as mate and companion | to such a man as this! She was not worldly, but she was of the world and knew it well. She realized most com- pletely all the advantages, the subtle | pleasures that/ would belong to the wife of this great man. The love of power ard dominion, the sense of a high intellectual correspondence with the finest brain of the day, the incense of a lofty and chivalrous devotion— | all these, yes, all these, would be for | the girl Sir William loved and wedded. | She half wondered if such devotion as his had proved ought to go unre- warded. Was it right? Had any girl a real excuse for making a man like William Gouldesbrough unhappy? Gerald Rathbone had faded utterly out of life. The greatest skill, the most active and prolonged inquiry, had failed to throw the slightest light upon his disappear- ance. As a person Gerald had ceased to exist. He lived only as a memory in her heart. A dear memory, bitter- | short distances. sweet—ah, sweet and bitter!—but no more a thing of fic&h and blood. A phantom, a shadow, now and forever- more. * . . . * Sir William and Donald Megbie sat in a small palm house talking earnest- ly together. A tiny fountain sent up its glistening whip of water from a marble pool, on which water lilies were floating, while tiny iridescent fish swam slowly round their roots. There was silence and fragrance in the pleasant. remote place, the per- fume of exotic flowers, the grateful green of giant cacti which rested the eye. Concealed electric lights shed their radiance upon fern, flower, and sparkling water, and both men felt that here was a place for confidences, and a fit spot in which matters of im- port might be unfolded. Both men were smoking, and in the still, warm air the delicate grey spirals from the thick Turkish cigar- ettes rose with a fantastic grace of curve that only the pencil of a Flax- man could have given its true value. “I am all attention, Sir William,” Megbie said. ee “Well, then, I will put the thing to you in a nut shell, and as simply as possible. When you come to the dem- onstration at my house in a few days’ time you will be able to gather all the details and have them explained to you. I am going to give you a simple, broad statement here and now. For years I have been investigating the nature of thought. I have been seek- ing-to discover what thought really is —how it takes place, what is its me- chanical, as well as its psychical, val- ue. Now, I claim that I have discover- ed the active principle of thought; I have discovered how to measure it, how to harness it, so to speak, how to use it in fact, just as other investiga- tors in the past have harnessed and utilized electricity.” Megbie started. “I think I see,” he said, hurriedly. “I think I see some- USS but go on, Sir William—go on!” Gouldesbrough smiled, pleased with the agitation the man who sat by him showed so plainly. He went on. “Hitherto that which observes—I mean the power of thought—has never been able, strictly speaking, to observe itself. It can never look on at itself from the out- side, or view itself as one of the mul- titude of things that come under its review. It is itself the origin of vision, and the eye cannot see its own power of seeing. I have altered all this. Thought is a fluid just as elec. tricity is; or one may say that it is a peculiar form of motion just as light is, The brain is the machine that cre- ates the motion. I have discovered that the brain gives off definite rays or vibrations, which rise from it as steam rises from a boiling pot. That is the reason why one brain can act upon another—can influence another. It explains personal magnetism, hyp- notism, and so on. What I have done is this: I have perfected a means by which these rays car be collected and controlled. I can place an apparatus upon your head which will collect the thought vibrations as you think and produce them.” “And then, Sir William?” “Then I can conduct those rays along a wire for any distance in the form of an electric current. Finally, by means of a series of sensitive in- struments, which I will show you at the forthcoming demonstrations, I can transmit these vibrations into | actual pictures or words, and throw them upon a screen for all the world to see. That is to say, in actual words, whatever any one is thinking is reproduced exactly as he thinks it without his having the power to pre- vent it. Thought, which has hitherto been locked up in the brain of the thinker, and only reaches us through his words, with whatever modification he likes to make, will now be absolute- ly naked and bare.” There was a silence of a minute or! two as Sir William stopped speaking. (To. Be Continued.) Freak of a Tornado, Attending the story of every cyclone there is somethhing of the nature of a freak to be related. During the small twister in the Highland district recently the almost incredible hap- pened. But we must believe the story, for it was told by truthful men. Be- tween two cornerstones of a barn (Mr. Ruthruff’s barn, we believe), the feath- ers and perhaps the foot of a chicken protruded. The stones were intact and showed no signs of ever having been disturbed by man or the power of the eleemnts. But the chicken was" blown in between those large stones | by the fury of the storm in some man- ner. It was a chicken without a doubt, though pressed as thin as an onion peel. How did it get there? The | theory shared by nearly all who wit- | nessed the phenomenon is that during the sterm and a sudden gust of wind the barn and the top stone were lift- ed sufficiently high to allow the chick- en to be blown into the crevice, and before the fow! could get out the barn settled down. Bees Faster Than Pigeons. It is not generally known that bees are swifter than pigeons—that is, for Some years ago a pigeon fancier of Hamme, Westphalia, laid a wager that a dozen bees liber- ated three miles from their hives would reach home in less time than a dozen pigeons. The competitors were given wing at Rybern, a village nearly a league from Hamme, and the first bee reached the hive a quarter of a minute in advance of the first pigeon. Three other Bees reached the goal before the second pigeon. The bees were also slightly handicapped, having been rolled in flour before starting for purpose of identification. 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