Omaha Daily Bee Newspaper, October 30, 1901, Page 9

D T S THE BELL MARE TILE OMAHA DAILY BEE WEDNESDAY OCTOBER 3 R S e o By Murtha McCulloch-Willlams. (Copyright, 1%1, by the B. 8. McClure Co.) Squire Gleaves reined In at the top of the hill and looked back down the long, gentle slope with eyes of pride. “They a-most make it seem llke I never had & real drove before,” he sald, nodding toward the roadway; ‘‘yet I've followed this droverin' business better'n twenty years—an' not a year but I took some good stock down to the cotton country.” Johnny Cope, at the Squire's elbow, an- swered only with a sigh. It was Johnny's mission and privilege to ride 'Lightly, the bell mai Her fuil name was Lady Go- Jightly—she stepped proudly and held h head high, as became the wearer of a silver bell, and a great-granddaughter of Diomede, She was not quite thoroughbred, but blood- 1ike all over, with flat, clean legs, firm, fine- grained hoofs and mus Itke steel whip- cords playing beneath her satiny black coat. It the cold cross showed anywhere it was in her quarters—they were powerful enough for a carthorse. The fact assured that she could carry weight any distance, notwith- standing Johnny, who rode her, weighed less than 100 pounds, thcugh he was rising 17 Johnny had drifted to the Gleaves place | three years back from nobody knew whel The Bquire, who was half easy going and wholly shrewd, had kept him at first com- peassionately, and later because tho lad ex- actly sulted his turn. Johnny was a born rider, light yet bold, strong-handed, clear- headed and full of the curious magnetic which goes subtly along the rein horse and rider one. The Squire, of course, did not phrase it just that way. He sald, the stray boy could feel a horse's mind through its mouth, down to tips of his own toes. Therefore, he was kept riding the most part of the time. Drove horses, broken and gaited, especially saddlo-gaited, fotched easlly as much again a8 those merely halter-wise. Three parts of this drove were so broken and gaited. No wonder the Squire was proud of them— 200 odd, sleek, all in perfect fettle, gray, bay, brown, black, dappled and roan, there was not one without a_cross of two of blood, or one whose condition did not do equal credit to the pastures and paddocks of the Gleaves place, nor to judgment of the place's owner. Five to alx abreast they came up the road pell mell. Now and again those at the edges halted to snatch at twigs or sere roadaide It was late Beptember. Though there had been no hint of frost the Black gums were full of crimson leaves and the taller sufrasses shot through with yellow. New blackberry briers showed the pury of fron cooling from the forge. Everywher there was the deep glossed green of midsummer, somewhat ragged In spots and faintly fretted with dust. There had been no rain since the drove started from the g country eight days back. had just got f halt wilderness, ghich 1n stretched between middle Tennesseee and the Carolina cotton plantations. The road, a well-traveled trace, ran through woods. Here or there it crossed a patursl meéadow, often many acres in extent. Grass grew so tall in the low spots of these neadows it could be tied elther side ubove a horse's neck as one rodo through. The vanished buffalo had no doubt relished such lusty stalks, but the drove beasts chose instead to nip the fine tender upland bonts which came, at most, Bo higher than the knee. noted camp- d of the hilitop. There was a clear creek between. Possibly It was the scent of water which set 'Lightly whickering, but Bquire Gleaves sald, patting her neck, “‘So you smell grass and rest—eh, old gal!" B8he tossed her head the least bit, whickeriag again. This time the call was louder, more insistent and compelling. In answer every hoot behind quickened, necks stretched, muzsles lifted, ears went flat against the neck. In sinuous, tumbling column, melting, changing mo- mentarily the ranks charged upon their leader, breaking from the walk to the trot, the trot to the gallop, the gallop to the dead full run. Squire Gleaves drew out to let them pass. He knew Johnny and 'Lightly could be trusted—besides there was water and the grass. The drove was sharp-set—the ooonday halt had been in tall, barren wood- lznd, so they had had nothing more than scant mouthfuls of fodder from the wagon. His mare, roan Mary, was wild to foln fn the rush, but he held hard until his son Joe came up, with black Sam at his borse's tall -and the big covered wagon rolling pompously behind. Shadrach. wagoner and camp cook, sat din In the dle, but still clutched single rela and long-lashed whip. It was wondertul [that he slept, even with the wagon at the snail's pace it had been going, Joo Gleaves and black Sam had also long whips and made them crack like dis- tol shots over the backs of laggards, yet without touchinz a hatr. “Father! I say! Hadn't you better ride up? S'pose JSohnny couldn’t stop ‘Lightly?" Joe sald, a thought anxiously. of youth's natural reckiessness, pleased him through and through. He sald over his Shoulder, as he gave roan Mary the spur: “Som, I'm obleeged to you—but you've no Lightly knows the busi- 1 do—this 13 tenth shows her age as little as I do mine.” s face was tense as he watched his he was himself. “‘The nld ood for thirty years at least. sald half under breath, his mouth hard. Ing. He was a handsome fellow, slight, but well set up, with darkling eyes under bent brows, and very red lips, cruelly thin. He had been strictly brought up and was outwardly a model all the virtues, An to whether the virtues struck decp thery were two opinions. His world for the most part held that they did. But there was & sharp-eyed molety, long-eared withal, that whispered in its most private hours of other thinge—roysterings and riotings in Na ville town, whither Joe went for a fortnight tvery winter—al; lcng gaming at a cross- toads the other side of the county—stolen visits to. the Nashville races and heavy wagers, lost and wor, Still, when all w 1d, he was worse than a hypocer! hrowing dust in the oyes of a blindly doting father. There ‘were only himeelf and his blind sister Alice to Inherit the tidy fortune Squire Gleaves had lald up. Everybody knew Joe would come Into se hths of it, so the harshest of his crities did not blame him overmueh for keeping his riotous liv- ing under cover. To riot openly would distrers his father beyond measure—and It Is everywhere understood that those whoao can pay hls scot is entitled to rlot in his vouth, “Maybe it's tfy y, to live to a bundred,” Joe repeated still bushedly, s father went out of t. Then he ched a walnut from a laden bough above the road, half turned, and fred it at Shadrach, rhouting: “Wake up, ole nigger! Wake up! Are you tryin' to break your neck, and let us starve, here no e's just the bulld h too hongry! He way, wid meal and midditn’ meat in de wagin," Sbadrach sald, grinning broadly, as he rubbed his eyes: “But 'tain’'t o wonner I drapt ter sleep. Y'all dribe dem hawses so pizen slow, de ve'y look er de wagin | wheels sot me noddin’." | ‘W Drive for all your team ls worth, | now,"" Joe called back. He was a hundred yards clear of the latest drove laggard. Far ahead he could see the foremost ranks bufiching and crowding In the creek. He | *wung his whip high sbove his head, made | it snap three times, and went like the| wind In the wake of the plunging beasts. | By the time he came fully up with them | only twenty stood in the atream. It was | rolled for 100 yards up and down. The | banks were shallow and shelving—Joe knew the drove had rushed down them, then the more whimsical or the least thirsty, had | crowded one above the other, each eager | to drink from a current unvexed and un- | ta‘nted. | At he rode up the bank he saw his tather, dismounted, bending to rub his | atiftened legs. Johnny had made a half cir- cuft of the meadow—he fotching "Lightly back, leaving the drove, which had | tollowed her, divided betwixt wallowing and grasing. He scrambled down, and leaned & minute on the mare's shoulder. | She batted her ears and nipped his arm, NG PasT, MISSING JOHNNY'S HEAD A BARE INCH." a bit o' figurin,”, he said. “Let's see—the drove's a little the rise o' 200-—they'll aver- age $150 the head. That $30,000 In a lumpin’ trade. I couldn’t take less for 'LAghty-~not a cent less.” I don’t understand—I don’t want to buy the drove—' the stranger began. Squire Gleaves broke In: I thought you didn't. I doudbt, in fact, If you ever saw a real horse drove before.” “I have certalnly seen driven—'' the stranger sald. Again the quire cut him short. “No doubt!" he sald. “Everybody must have seen that— four or five horses, or maybe even a dozen. But, let me tell you, that ain't horse drov- erin’. A real drover has get either to breed his own stock, or else buy it at weanin' time and let it graze and grow up to follow the bell. Ever hear of a bell mare? ‘Lightly’'s mine. A bell mare must never have a colt of her own—then she's ready to mother and rule everything that comes found her, When the colts are wonted to her, she can take 'em anywhere —one mile or a thousand, It don't matter. It 1 was fool enough to sell you 'Lightly, and you took her away, not one out there in the meadow would stop feedin' till he was full. But along after dark, when halt of 'em were ready to lle down, they'd be- gin whickerin’, whickerin’, whickerin’, and keep 1t up till after midnight. Then there'd come a break In spite of me and my men and whips and halters. They'd take right out on her track and climb mountains or swim rivers to find her—and they would loose horses then rubbed the saddie lightly back _-;—/ , forth against him. The I ungirthed she slid from un tumble from his hands, ga: Ish Kkick, ‘then ran & Iittle ways through & level space, put her nose to earth, turned twice about, feeling for snags or stones. then Ilay down upon it and wallowed hard, turning over three times, and kicking vig- orously with all her feet, as she lay polsed upon her bnckbone. She got up and stood with her head slightly drooj nibbling & handtul of | grasa Squire Gleaves held. Johnny went up | to her and made to take off the bridle, but Squire Gleaves waved him back, saylng: ‘‘Get the halter ready first, Jack. No horse, not even ‘'Lightly—ain’t to be depended on when there's rain in the air. I re it's goin’ to rain tonight—that's what sets the drove to wallowin' and nickerin' so, and cockin' their talls so sassy. They won't break out without this lady,” stroking ‘Lightly's glossy “but with her loose, thy 0 tellin’ what mightn't happen—ef once she took the notion to runm, there'd be the very devil to pay.’ The wagon clattering up, drowned lower sounds, at least to hulnan ears. But all at ightly Balf wheelad, stretched her , pricked both ears sharply forward, flung up her head and snorted. After it she stood rigid, with flaring nostrils, snorting faintly with every other breath. She faced the unbroken woods, thick with underbrush, which lay upon the other side of the road. Gleaves stroked her shoulder sooth Johnny: *I do wonder what she hears or smells? It can't be var- 1t to jurap at it and trample it. And travel- ers ain't likely—not unless they're lost.” ybe it's—robbers,” Jobnny said In a whisper. Bquire Gleaves laughed, but not too easlly—outlawry was a thing all drov- ers had to reckon with. He bad known of droves stampeded, of drovers robbed and murdered in cold blood, though he b had always gone soot free. He re! that it was foelhardy, to have come as he had, thus ligh ded, with the biggest nd the most valuable, that had ever grass country. So he was more than relieved when a single horteman broke out of the bush, apparently unarmed, hionably equipped, and splendidly though his horse, a raking chest- nut, seemed something over-ridden. With a civil greeting he got down, stretched himself mightily, unsaddied hi panting horse, then swung upon his heels, sayli e you mean to camp here. Will you take me in?"’ “We are out ourcelves—we don't own Joo answered with Th I—have been lost all day,” he sald. “Whits Foot s better off than his master—he can eat grass if there Is nothing better. I am ey Runiry— “Well! You won't stay so—not long.'" the aquire sald. “You, Sam. make haste with that wood! The fire ought to bh» burnin' by thia—I struck a lixht the minute 1 zot down.” 'With your gua flint?"’ the stranger asked. Squire Gleaves looked at im hard, nodded and added slowlr: ‘‘Yes—with mv gun flint—but yoy, better beileve I primed the pan well afterward. 1 mever yet shot at anything more'n a deer and hope 1 never shall—but ome thing' thieves, or money t! the find m dy. ‘They generally round men they know to be ready,” the stranmer sald, laughing sweetly, and looking hard acro:e at Joe. Then he turned to 'Lightly, ran his hand un and down her forearm and cn down to the coronet, then back with a sweeping flourish until it rested upon her throat. ‘‘S8ound lege—a head that looks over the moon,” he muttered as though to himselt, then to Squire Gleaves: *I want ber. Name your pri: ‘This time it was t quire who lauxhed. Joe frowned a yed to speak. father held up his band. “Wait. It tak Dot stop to eat much nor drink often by the way." The stranger laughed. profitable—undcr such conditions,’ demurely. “As I understand it, mare comes back with you—" “Oh! I'm honest enough to warn folks,' Squire Gleaves sald, also laughing, but grimly. “I swear 'em to keep stock they buy of me stabled or hoppled through two springs. After that the b elther for- get or fall in love with the place they live or something about it. But as true as you stand there I've had horses come home after six years. Seems like the springtime sets ‘em wild to see the place they were foaled in—and no matter how far off it {s they sense the course. “How far have you known them to come?" the stranger asked. “Five bundred miles—maybe Bquire Gleaves answel whistled, then with sald: on your hos- pitality—my name s—Robin—Lucas Robin. 1 thank you very much for a chance of supper and a place at your fire.” Johuny Cope wondered why Joe Gl ot 8o white as he heard the stranger's pame. But fate and nature had conspired to make him a sllent lad, so he kept the wonder to him Indeed, he never talked to anybody except blind Miss Alice. He sat with her of Sundays, when the rest went to church, and to her he told of all he saw in the woods, the pastures, the farm yard. In between he to her, haltingly, but intel) tly, the Psalms, the Ten Commandm , the Sermon on the Mount. Miss Alice was older than Joe, frail, but cheery, and the soul of kindness, especially to Johnny, who seemed to her %0 pitifully lost and lonesome. In return Johnny worshiped her and was ready to die for her or for anybody she loved. He fell asleep to dream of her, beside the campfire after the watch had been set. Squire Gleaves and Shadrach were to ride around the drove until midnight—from then until daybreak Joe and Black Sam would be in charge. Johnny's last conscious sight was of Joe staring Into the fire, while Lucas Robin spoke low and eagerly in his ear. Lady Golightly, securely tethered a little way from the wagon, was nuzzling the re- mains of her fodder, making little dry, tinkling sounds that somehow wove them- selves all through Johnny's dream. “Droving must be he sald the bell A north- west wind hadsswept away the promise of Tain, and, though there was no moon, a clear gray brilllance filled the sk scrambled up and stirred the brand, were dank and cold. Water .had been thrown upon them. Just outside the fire circle Joe lay, breathing heavily. Black Sam was snoring a yard beyond. Johnny sheok them hard. They did not stir, He sprang toward the blanket spread for Lucas Robin. It was empty, tossed into & huddled Trembling all over he ran toward the meadow. In the edge of it Shadr; at his horse, fast asleep. Squire G nowhere visible. But the drove had to stir, neighing here or there, keen complaint, No answer to the complainings! Johony knew what (hat meant--the bell mare had been stolen. Lucas Robin w the thief Intultively the lad snatched a halter and rushed into the thick of the drove, now all standing, and half of it whickering distress. The horscs sncried and edged away as he wound In and out. More than cne let fly at him with viclously nimble heels, but he ‘ept on undaunted until he found what he v Jught—Dams 'Lightly's 4-year-old half | bell. sister and her match in speed and stay. In a twinkling he had scrambled up and was out on the road. There he let his single rein fall loose—Damsel herself must choose the way. Once she was settled in the course he knew he could come up with the robber. The others had been drugged, no doubt—he recalled that Robin bad made them drink after supper from his pocket flask. Johnny had refused the offered dram, because he had promised Miss Alice never to drink until he was 21. Miss Alice! He was going to bring back the bell mare and save the drove—for her. She sald Ingrati- tude was the blackest sin of all-so he could not let himself be ungrateful From the Dig Meadow the trace ran south, stralght and almost level for ten | miled Then it branched, one fork lead- ing into the foothills that twenty miles further on were the mountains, the other keeping well to the plains. Damsel whick- ered three times, turning her head now this way, now that, listened a breath's space, snorted, then struck Into a trot, and t due south. An owl flew across the way, a little higher than Johony's head, hooting loudly, its eyes showing flery in the dusk. In the dark woods, either hand, there were long gleams of fox-fire—~mists rose white from the damp places, crickets shrilled, and whippoorwills sent out their weird erying. Johnny was superstitious. He had no fear wheatever of Lucas Robin, but the owl, the fox-fire, the whippoorwill daunted him-—he was about to turn back. But as he oice left him. Behind him, thunder of 200 hoofs, following a new leader to seek out the old. Damsel was galloping easlly. As she caught the noise behind she swung Into a dead run. 'Johnny could do nothing but sit still, keep her head up and let her run. The drove was in mad stam- pede. 1f he tried to turn back it would trample him. On, on, they flew, mile after mile, yet still the weighted racer led the unweighted ones. In that free course, as upon all others, blood told. Before half of it was past only the pick of the drove ran hot upon the young mare's heels. Johnny eat | far forward. His terrors had left him— he had caught the spirit of the race and was ready for any fate. Once when heard a lone cock-crow faint and far off he answered with a quavering yell. Once, too, a fox barked and he mocked it with a ! ehriller bay. Damsel swerved a little | she heard the crying. Thus gray Gilder ran up to her and even got half a length in tront. Johnny flung bimself prone long her neck and shouted In her ear, shrill, aweet, half-articulate, maddeningly clear. She knew the call and anewered it gallantly. In three bounds she was clear of the gray, running strong and free, as though she never meant to stop. A hundred yards fur- ther on e neighed joyously. Johnny's heart came In his mouth—for down wind, low and keen he heard an answering neigh. He was coming up with the thief, with 'Lightly. What should he—what could he do? He had a claspknife in his belt— otherwise he was unarmed. Still he did not despair. If the man led 'Lightly in- stead of ridding her she would break from him and come back to the drove when she beard Johnny's call. Then he must mount her and ride for it. She would run for him as for nobody else in the world. White- foot, the fagged chestnut, would never catch her. Of course there was the chance that Lucas Robin might shoot—maybe that was what the owl and the fox-fire and the whip-poor-will had meant. But it was too late now to change anything—doggedly he rode on, consclous of nothing but that he meant to eave the hors because, In a way, they belonged to Miss Alice. Dawn broke red and clear, the wind freshened. Suddenly bullet sang past, missing Johnny's head a bare inch. It came from the roadside—in the strength- ening light he could distinguish there Lady Golightly tugging at her halter and ing out with her heels the fagged chestnut. The chestnut's rider was swear- ing loudly—his second pistol had flashed In the pan. Johnny saw that In his anger he had put it to the black mare's head and flung up his hands crying out at the sight. ‘“‘Here, you boy? Are you a sensible lad Robin called as the drove and its leader charged down upon him. Johnny sat straighter. “If 1 was, I reckon I wouldn't be here,”” he sald. “But I try to be honest ~—that's why I came after 'Light), ou won't get her,” Robin said, with A sneering laugh. “'She’s mine—lawfully mine—Joe Gleaves let me have her to pay one of his gambling debts—the drove was to pay the others and leave something over for him. Joe Is a coward—he would not let me take her openly—I had to drug the lot | of them and slip off like a thiet—" “You are a thief—and worse,” Johnny sald hotly. With an oath Robin spurred | At him, meaning to ride him down. In the rush he dropped 'Lightiy's halter. Johnny wheeled Damsel, whistling as she wheeled. 'Lightly ran to him—before Lucas Robin could check and turn, Johnny was on the bell mare's back and riding for life throush the woods, toward the Blg Meadow. Luckily they were open woods. Johnny lay flat on the mare's back guiding her, what time she needed guldance, by gen- tle pressure, now this her neck, now that. It took more than a mile to skirt and bead the bewildered drove, which turned in its tracks to follow the tinkling Momentarily he expected to feel a bullet, better almed, plow through his flesh. He could hear Robin behind, swearing hor- ribly. but to his joy the sounds grew falnter. And when broad daylight laughed through the woods they ceased altogether. But Johnny dared not sit up, uatil at a cross road he ran upon the circult rider and the hunter who was guiding him to his next appointment They went with him to the Rig Meadow, where the sleepers all were struggling back | to sick comsclousness. There Johnuy told | the whole story—except Joe's part in it. | That he never told anybody until Joe wi safely dead, for say what you will, he was Mise Alice’s brother, and she loved him denrly, WOMEN MASQUERADE AS M Several Canen Similar to Recent Fort Sherldan Incident Noted, It seems hardly possible that a woman disgulsed in the unitorm of a United States soldier could masquerade as a trocier for three months at Fort Sheridan. The faot would not be credited were it not well authenticated. Similar occurrences have taken place in times past, reports the Chicago Chromicle, but they were few and far between. St Petérsburg is soon to unvell a statue to a woman, Nadeyda Dourovna, who entered the Russian army in 1308, disgulsing her- self as a man Although her identity was soon discovered, she was allowed to remain in the army for soven years bu- cause of the pressing need of soldiers. The czar, Alexander I, became Interested in her and conferred upon her a commiasion in the regiment of hussacs. She won dls- tinction and finally received the decora- tion of the cross of St. George. Her Iast years were passed qulietly at home and she dled at the age of 83. Shé was honored with 4 military funeral and was burfed In the uniform of the Litovish dragoons. ’ A case nearer home 18 that of Deborah Sampson, who was the American Ji d'Arc in the revolutionary war. She was A descendant of Miles Standish and also of Governor Bradford and inherit:d the foar- leesness and military instinct of her ances- tors. Losing her father when young-sbe was brought up on a farm by strangers in Middleboro. Mass. Farm work was dls- | tasteful to her She was fond of reading and had ad insatiable decire to travel and see the world. During leisure hours she went to the woods and there made for her- self a masculine suit from cloth which she herself had woven. Leaving home it took her some t!me to familiariz> he:a<1f with her clothes and the new part she lutended to play. For some days she kept by her- | self In the woods. She soon enlisted at Worcester, became a member of the Foutth Massi ts,Infantry and was ordered to West Point. This was in 1782, She 15 described as 5 feet 7 inches In | helght, having ‘‘a blooming complexion and somewhat masculine air.”” Her pecullar ap- pearance was observed in camp and she was known as ““Molly"” and as “the smock-faced boy,” but she became a favorite and gained the reputation of being “a good fellow." Miss Sampson was in several engagements. An wer t with a squad of thirty men she made an attack on & gang of mounted guer- i and recelved a saber h on the head and a bullet in the thigh. A sur- | geon dressed the saber cut. At her own request she secured permission to remain at a farm house for ten days to nurse a dying companion. Her object was to care for the bullet wound. While there the | tory fagmer persecuted her and his daugh- ter fell In love with her. Either way the situation wae embarrassing. For a time Miss Sampscn was the per- sonal attendant of General Patterson. Later | she s sent on a speclal expedition to | Philadelphia, was selzed with a malignant fever and taken to the hospital. Alexander Corbett, jr., who has investigated and re- ported the facts of Miss Bampson's life, ays that while here a rich Baltimore ade her an offer of her hand and but finding her love for the sol- dler boy indifferently requited, parted with him after giving him an outfit .of haber- dashery made with her own hands and a watch ouventr. On her recovery Miss Sampson was sent with a letter from the hospital physician to General Patterson. It revealed her secret. With the utmost kindness the gencral as- sured her she should have nothing to fear. She recelved her discharge, but with many | honors and testimonials to her bravery. Miss Sampson became the wife of Benja- min Gannett, a brother of the great-grand- father of Rev. Willlam Gannett and of Mrs. Kate Gannett Wells. She never recelved a cent of pay until 1762, when the Massachu- setts legislature gave her $179. The nation granted her a pension in 1805. After her death in 1827 her husband was allowed to draw her pension of $8 a month. The Gannett home still stands In the little town of Sharon, Mass., and contains relics of Its former Iillustrious occupant. In the little graveyard is & tombstone marking the burial site of Deborah Gan- nett and each Memorial day the members of the Brockton chapter, Daughters of the | American Républic, ed in her honor, place flowers on her grave and renew the American flag which waves there perpet- ually. “Ga Awarded first Denmark to Be at Expositi COPENHAGEN, Oct. 20.~The presen‘a- tion by Minister Swenson of an_officinl invitation to Denmark to participate in the 8t. 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They Prescribe It Excluiiv:ly as a Toale aai S imsar Wa:za the System Is Weak and Rua Dwa from D.s21s2 or overwork, The following letters trom pr dom from maany thousands we hav: made thelr groat suscesses with DU, Dr. J. D. Cole, Alexandria Bay, N. Y. Wwrote us, on Dec. 5, 1900: “I have beon using Duffy's Malt Whiskey in my fam- ily and practice for the past fifteen yi with very beneficial results. I often pi scribé it for anaemic patients and some forms of indigestion; also for convales- cents after typhold fever, and all wasting dissnse It 1s & good tonic for the aged.' Dr. H. Cenicola, Bridgeport, Conn., on Dec. 14, 1600, sent us the following have prescribed Duffy's Pure Malt Whis- key In my practice and think it a pure and beneficial tonfe and stimulant. 1 cheertully recommend it." Dr. J. A. Hammond, Schuylerville, N. Y., wrote us on Jan. 2, 1901: "I ha used your Malt Whiskey for about seven years In my practice ‘and find It very beneficlal In cases of debility and for old people. 1 have used It successtully in cases of typhoid fever after the fever had left and the pa- tient was much debilitatod. 1 cannot re- commend It too highly where a tonlc Is | Decessary. Dr. George 8. Converse, New Haven, Conn, on Jan. 18, 1001, wrote: “I have used Duffy's Malt Whiskey in my practice and always found it pure and satisfactory.’ , Dr. Albert C. Smith, President Suffolk Dispensary, 10 Charter 8t., Boston, Mass., wrote us: “In the treatment of the large number of patients who come for ald and relief, we find it necessary In our work to use a stimulant which, without question, Is absolutely pure, and we are glad to say thet in your 'Duffy's Malt' we have suc- ceeded In obtaining what has been of great assistance’ In .many cases of pronounced danger. We should be unwilling to be without this valuable stimulant.”” This dispensary registered In one year almost 37,000 patients. It 1s one of the largest inatitutions of its kind in the world. Dr. W. F. Hooper, Newport Ne: Va., on Dec. 18, 1600, wrote: “I have used your Duffy’s Malt in convalescence from typhold and other febrile diseases with satisfac- tory retults.” Dr. R. P, Oppenheimer, 405 Church Ave. Knoxville, Tenn, wrote us as recently as Jan. 19, 1901. “I have used Duffy's Mailt Whiskey extensively in my practico for ten years, especially among cases requiring | stimulants and tonics, and I take pleasure ating that I find it excels all other vhiskey's." Dr. De Witt Brugler of the Blue Cross Medieal Ald, 1502 Marshall 8t., Philadel- phia, Penn., on Jan. 18 1901, wrote us the Malt is the only whis- at the Blue Cross Medical Ald Dispensary. llance upon any other for medical use.” During the past few years we have re- ceived hundreds of thousands of just such We place no re- | nsnt physizlans wers tiken at ran » r:oeivad trom Jdostors, wio have FFY'S MALT WHISKEY: [1otters as theme. There can be no more icnnvlnrlnl proof that Duffy's Pure Malt | Whiskey 1s the only absolutely pure, in- vigorating stimulant and tonic to be used exolusively in all cases where the systom | beede to be sustained. The doctors as well as the people have learned that it does not pay to il the em full of drugs. Thoy realize what the system wants is a tonic and stimulant to ald | the eirculation and lend artifictal force to | throw off the disease’'s gorms. | DUFFY'S PURE MALT WHISKEY CURES Consumption, General Debility, | La Grippe, Colds, Broneyitis, M daria, | Low Fevor, Dysprosin, Diprossion and w akness from wh itever eavses, 1t buitds wp and nourishs the bady, it nvigorales the brain, tones wp the hsart d prolongs life. A leading New York Deor said | “Durfy's Pure Malt Whiskey is a form of food alvsady diges'ed.” NO FUSAL OIL. CAUTION—=Our patrons are cautioned ainat so-called Dufty’s Malt Whiskey of- fered for male in bulk or in flasks and packages other than our patent bottle. Dufty's Pure Malt Whiskey is sold In sealod | bottles only. Offered in any other form | Itls not the genuine. There 14 none “‘just as good as’ Duffy's | =—The dealer who says so is thinking of his | profits only. Ask for Duffy's; Insist on | getting 1t. Look for the trade-mark on | 1t 18 not the genuine. FREE ADVICE !, ou,are, sek wnd run down write our dcctor for free advice, It will coxt you nothing to learn how to regain health, strength and | vitality. Medical booklet containing symp- toms, treatment and tce fmonials sent freo, All correspondence with our doctor i str.cts iy confidential, and no testimonial uked without permission. Al dru | And_groeers, or direct. $1.00 i bottle. | PUFEY MALT WHISKEY CO., Rochester, Begins Publica The Sunday Bee. PN S tion Nov. 3, in “No Other Way” —BY— Sir Walter Besant The Last Work of This Gifted Writer. Powerful and Dramatic Story, Unique in Plot. T is founded on a most peculiar condition of the English penal system and debtor’s prison. The heroine, a beautiful young widow, i8 in imminent danger of being thrown into a debtor’s cell when a crafty creditor shows her how, by marrying a con- demned criminal, she can escape her debts, and as he will soon be excented, she will also escape the ignominy of this surrepti- tious marriage. With this curious introduction into a plot unique in fiction, Bir Walter Besant enlists the sympathy of the reader and arouses the keenest liance. curiosity in the final outcome of the strange al- Contrary to expectations, the criminal does not die, and the efforts of the heroine to escape her husband, together with the ercunstances of a change of fortune which has come to her gives a swing to the tale and a rapidity of action and develop- ment which ends only with the last chapter of the story. ————— Begins Publication November 3, and runslé6 weeks. Illustrated.