Omaha Daily Bee Newspaper, November 10, 1901, Page 24

o ey ] 29 G p—— NO OTHER WAY. @By SIR WALTER BESANT. Mrs. Isabel Weyland, & widow, ened with the debtor's prison creditor, Mrs. Brymer, suggests a way of the difficulty, marriage with an impris. oned_debtor, who, for a pultry sum, will assume Mre. Weyland's debts also CHAPTER 11, On t oor Stde. (Copyright, 1%1, by Dodd, Mead & Co) There is nothing uncommon iu the visit ot a gentlewoman to a debtors’ prison. Always there are languishing within those | walls unfortunate gentlemen, some lmpris- ened until their friends succeed in making arrangoments with their creditors, others | lying here for life, elther subsisting on such small allowances as unwilliog brothers | or grudging cousing consent to give, or starving in miscry, such misery as we would Dot {afiict on the worst of criminals, on the poor side. It is not, therefore, surprising that & compassionate woman should from time 1o time be seen In those dingy courts, ibringig assistance and consolation to one who Bad formerly been her friend, her , her playtellow, perbaps her lover. This morning about 1 o'clock the hungry, {those on the Poor Side, were dreaming of }dinners impossible of attainment, the 4 | must not offer him too muc| * We P—— | favorabloe than if he had money left. “Is he a gentleman, then? You said he was a lawyer. Is he very old and broken? We must not be hard upon a poor old man." “Ho Is not old at all. He is quite young. 1 suppose he is a gentleman, belng a law- yer." “Young and a gentleman! O, Mrs. Br; mer, we must oot be hard on youth i poverty!" “You must think of yourself, madam, not of him. In business there is no pity, flo friendship and no affection. It is everyone 1t want young “Humph! namara,” said the turnkey. Suppose he won't come?" “Why not?" to see him. It's his pride. first. After a bit You see, ladies, pretty gentleman who Tell him that a lady wishes Some of them are so, at they drop their pride. he's & gentleman—a very cannot get his THE OMAHA DAI a8 if be had jall r; 1 am sure that If we dared to touch him he would be found burning hot with fever. We are In great luck. In six weeks—~nay, In & few weeks, he will be dead and you will be free. O! we shall make very easy terms with him." Mr. Macnamara stood before the ladies without a word. But his lip trembled, the only sign that his pride—which was greater than his shame—allowed him to make. “8ir,”" sald the dressmaker, “‘you doubt- less remember the conversation we bad a week ago.'” “l remeomber it, madam, perfectly. It was not a conversation of the kind which & man in my position readily forgets.” “'Stop, stop,” interposed the lady in the mask. “He I8 in want of food. I am cer- tain that he is in want of food. Let us first order some refreshment for him. We must not enter upon business with him until he has appeased his hunge “‘As you plea madam, Apswered, coldly. I recommend business first. s 18 complete he o likes." Thero was, in fact, nothing at that mo- ment which the prisoner desired more than food. He was falnt and sick for want of food. At the mere mention of food he changed color. Pride could not prevent this betrayal. He reeled. He was fain to clutch at the back of a chair. A debtors’ prison, however, Is like Leadenhall market in contalning a supply of evorything that man can desire (except a quickening breath of fresh alr), provided Cold beef Mrs. Brymer should, however, ‘When our busi- order what he ' there is money to pay for it. LY BEE: SUNDAY, NOVEMBER 10, 1901 enough. But my position obliges me to hear all and endure all." “Madam,” he turned to t the mask, Who had not spoken, “you are, suppose, the lady concerned. Understand 1 pray you, that the degradation offered me must be accepted it it will give me food. | Degradation—shame~—humiliation, cannot touch & poor wreich on the Poor Side. Hun- ger I8 the whole armor of such one against any kind of shame.” you speak and you feel as a gentle- man. Belleve me, I am deeply grioved 10 see @ young gentleman In this condition.” “‘Business,” the dressmaker repeated her former lesson, “knows no compassion. There s no friendship, no pity in business. Let us settlo the business first. After that we can have as much compassion as you ples “Do mot, I entreat you,” the lady con- tinued, “sacrifico your chance of freedom for a mere pittance. Consider, sir, you may be released so far as your own liabili- ties are concerned.” He laughed bitterly. My chances! If I owed the whole of the national debt—the worth of the Golconds mines I could not be more hopelessly a prisoner than I am now. My chief detaining creditor is more hard-hearted and relentless than one would belleve possible in & mere Mohock—"' “Sir,”" sald Mrs. Brymer, “he {8 a man in business. How can a tradesman live it his customers do ot pay? You are an example. The knowledge that you are | suftering this imprisonment for so small a | sum—beggarly, the turnkey called ft—is a " warning to all others who will not pay.” lady with |former regular time for dinner belng ro- {placed by casual feeding at such hours and times as it might please Fortune, the In- constant, or Luck, the Uncertain (a more tavorite goddess on the Poor Side), and on the master's side the colleglans who had money in purse and pocket wero consider- ing serlously what their resources would allow, whether the 2 shillings ordinary with the pint of wine after it, or the humble fried ssusage and baked potato with a tankard of black beer. At this time the courts of the prison are mearly deserted, for those who belong to the master's side wish it to be understood that they are at the ordinary, and, theretore, if they cannot afford that costly banquet, lle snug in their chambers, or repair to the cellar, where the more modest delicacies are to be procured 80 that the arrival of two ladles in the court where the prisoners take thelr exer- oise was hardly noticed at all. One of them, wrapped in a silk lined cloak or man- tle, wore a mask and was evidently un- willing to be recognized. By her step and carriage she appeared to be young; she wore, however, the cap of a widow in the socond or third year of her mourning. The other, a middle aged woman, plainly dressed, was evidently of inferior station She walked upright without any igask or any attempt at concealment; her face was hard and resolute; she seemed intent on some business. Those who saw her felt certain tremors or sinkings, the memory of past experience, because she looked like one of that hard-hearted tribe, the un forgiving creditor. Her kind has, at lea done thelr worst to the prisoners in keeping them locked up, but the memory remained. Therefore, at sight of her hard and resolute face, knees trembled, hands shook and those within reach of their own staircases hastily retired to places of concealment This visitor looked up and down the court, which was, as I have sald, nearly empty: a few of the prisoners were walk- ing about, a few were playlng racquets agalnst the wall, some were sitting in the n after their frugal meal, some were talking over & journal of the day or the day before yesterday; all wero shabby, all were dull; all were llstless, c: at heel, shabby and hopeless. It 18 fashion to represent the college as full of conviviality and good fellowship; it is full of drink, but it is dull—hopeless, dull and stupld. The lady did not see the prisoner whom sbe was sceking. She turned to a turmn- key standing aside, dangling and rattling Rhis buneh of keys. “ want Mi. Oliver Macnamara,' she sald. “‘He Is one of your prisoners on the other side. Can you send for him? He is perbaps at his dinner. ,“His dioper! Ho! ho! A fat and plen- titul dinner they get on the other side Well, madam, I will send for him—M namara?! Macoamara? Is it a lawyer 1s he an Irishman?" “An Irishman, certainly. & lawyer's gown." . “Ay-—~ay-—his detainers are beggarly. He went over to the Poor Side a week ago. I bundled him over myself, seeiug that he was unable to pay for his bed. This is a place where we score up no chalks.” “L can understand your precaution, Mrs. Brymer, for it was that dressmaker. “Being in business myself, I have suffered by running up scores. Well, sir, ho Is on the Poor Side, that | knew. Madam' she whispered to her companion. “This Is the prisoner of whom I spoke to you. He is on the Poor Side, but his pride must be broken by this time. Hunger and cold y break them up; he will be willing And he wears make & bargals with us on terms more | I thought possible & week ago. He looks) quite emough, medam, aad more than friends to pay h 2-penny debts. And, be- #ides, ho has had to sell his clothes and 18 now in rags. Some of them on the poor side like to show their rags—they move compassion. Gar! Compassion. And for them as are destitute and friendless. As it they do not deserve all they get. What do they expect? They've got the boards to sleep on and their share of the doles. They're better off inside than out. Some of them are ashamed of their rags. This young fellow—this gentleman who is in for mere trifie—is ashamed of his. Let him alone and the shame of his rags as well as the cold and the starvation wiil kill him oft in a single winter. I know the sort. He will be dead in six months." Mrs, Brymer nudged ber companion. “‘We are in luck,” she repeated. Dead In six months! Could anything be better? We shall get him very cheap.” Then she turned to the man of the Keys. “Mr. Macnamara will come. Tell him it 15 the lady with whom he had discourse last week. Take us to some place where we can be private.” She placed & shilling in the man's hand. He looked at it and nodded. “Ay,” he said. “Now you talk sense. Well, you can have the use of my snuggery for half an hour. I shall charge you mo more than b shillings. 1f you want drink call for it. There's as good drink in the college as there 1s out of it. The wine, ladles, I can recommend.’ The snuggery was & small room abom- inably close and smelllng of beer, punch and tobacco; the room in which some ot the residents, those who could afford to spend a shilling or so, met In the eveniug to drink and take tobacco and to pretend that the prison was the home of wit, merri- ment and happioess. In the morping the place was deserted. Tho man returned in a few minutes, bringing with him his prisoner, Mr. Oliver Macnamara—whose pride, it appears, bad been broken up by the arrival of misery and destitution. Who can be proud when hunger goaws at the vitals. Ho was quite a young man, his beard neglected and stubby, his balr growing out under his wig. He wore a waistcoat tightly buttoned with no sign of a shirt; he had no coat, but Instead a lawyer's gown stained with dally use and ragged at the skirts, for he had been a prisoner for six months; his wig was that belonging to & member of the Utter Bar, but ruined by long neglect and the want of combing; he had still his lawyer's bands, but they were no longer white; his feet were bare; he wore neither shoes nor stockings; his face was pinched and pale; his eyes were un- naturally bright; he showed, indeed, in his appearance, not only extreme poverty, but insuMcient food and nourishment. In a word, he looked more forlorn, more hope- less, more mocked by fortune, more buf- feted by fate, than one would have be- lleved possible In one so young. For as one could see plainly, he was no common person; upon his face lay, visible to all, the stamp of a scholar; his clear-cut mouth, his regular features, his square forghead showed not only a scholar, but also a man of fine understanding, resolution and clear mind. He came Into the room looking trom one of the ladies to the other with a terri- bly guilty shame expressed clearly in his face. Ouve of them felt a sinking of the heart and a sudden compassion at the sight of a wreck so premature, and, apparently, s0 complete. The other smiled grimly. “Why,” she whispered, “we are in luck, truly. The young man is deeper down than 3 d > “WE CANNOT OFFER A GUINEA A WEEK TO ONE ON THE POOR SIDBE. A9 WELL BESTOW BURGUNDY AND RHENISH ON A COMMON TRAMP OF THE ROAD."” was immediately attalnable with bread and f Lisbon. “Can you eat cold beef, ked the lady with the mask. The young man sat down and proceeded to show that beet, cold, cut off the silver side, with bread, was at the moment the one dish | which he would have chosen before all others. Indeed, for a hungry man, cold beef, slightly underdone, has no equal. All this in spite of nods, winks and admonitory eniffs from Mrs. Brymer, who saw in the perverse and jll-timed charity, the loss of those advantages conferred upon the bar- galners by the present necessities. The food restored some color to the young man's cheek and some strength to his limbs. The wine also gave some courage to his heart. He finished his repast and stood up again with a low bow of gratitude. ‘“Now, Mr. Macna " the dressmaker resumed business. “‘We have wasted time already. You remember, you say, our dis- course. You were then, I belleve, still in possession of a little money, and if I re- member aright, shoes and stockings. Your case was desperate, but you concealed from me how desperate it was. “‘I told you that I was a prisoner for life. What more was there to conceal? ou di¢ not tell me, sir,” she added verely, “that you were on the point of be- coming quite destitute, A mere pauper and begp: Your transference to the poor side will ceriainly make a great difference in our arrangements. We cannot offer a guinea a week to one on the poor side. As well be- stow Burgundy or Rhenish on & common tramp of the road.” ‘Mrs. Brymer,” murmu: the lady In the mask, “spare him. Ie is a gentleman."” “As you will, madam. My poverty Is such that I must copsent to anything.' ““You undertake to assume certain labili- Let us have no mlstake about the These liabllities are not large, but they are present quite beyond your means of payment. They would, therefors by themselves, make your release Impos sible un the creditors consent. And this they will not do. But that is no hardship, because you are already In the hands of your own creditors, who are egually hard- bearted. You are beyond any hope of re- leage. You are now on the poor side. You have no rent to pay. You have no fees to pay. Everything is cheap on the poor side. And you have your share of the doles while you take your share in rattling the box. A pretty fall it is for a gentleman.” The young man changed color, but said nothing. “I would propose, therefore, as you are doubtless quite upprovided with any com- forts, first to find you & mattre nd a blanket, and next to give you an allowance of 5 shillings & week. That, I conclude, will make you quite comfortable; even, for the poor side, rich!" bowed. The lady who had went on relentlessly: “You will marry the lady at once. I can bring a Fleet parson here in half an hour. You will make no attempt, elther now or at any future time, to claim her as your wife, She will be as much dead to you after the ceremony as at present, Do you quite un- derstand this “Quite. There is no necessity to repeat the agreement. “I am the best judge of the necessity. Very well, then. Some persons in your con- dition have tried threats of various kinds. If you try anything of that nature we shall increase the detalners. “I understand. Is this not enough?®" “And we shall stop the allowance. Well, 1 think there s no more to be satd. It you | well and can be t:usted, there wight, fme—we make no promise—b 1 say, at some time, be a question of the Rules.” ““The rules would be no use to me. 1 could no miore make a livellhood in the rules than in this place. You have said *Perhaps—perhaps.” “I have heard,” she went on, “of per- sons being arrested and kept for life by detatners of a fow shillings. Is that hard- heartedness? Not so, 8ir. It is an example to the rest of the world. Belleve me, sir, though it seems hard to you, there are thousands who would never pay their debts, small or large, were it not for the example of such as you—such as you." The dressmaker spoke with some warmth, because to her, as a woman in trade, the debtors' prison is like a Magna Charta, for the protection of herself and such as her- self. “8ir,” sald the private friends “Madam, among all the people of this country and my own there is not a soul who knows me, or s sorry for me, or would lift up his flnger to save me. Not one. They do not even know of my misfortunes. Why should I let them know? They would not help me: they would only whisper to ench other, for the credit of the family, to keeo it darl “No friends—and no hope,” the lady mur- mured. poor man! Poor man!" ‘‘Business first. Compassion afterward,” Brymer. S| 1 send for the ady in the mask, “if your “Walt a moment, Mre. Brymer. 1 would first have a little further discourse with this xentleman.'" “As you ples madam. Time, how- ever, presses he parson is generally in his cups by 2 or 8. But, as you please Even if the writ were served, you could be married after it, just as well But 1t would be better to dispatch the business.” “In & few minutes. Mrs. Brymer wil you oblige me by taking a view of the court outside while I converse with this unfor- tunate gentleman—with Mr. Macnamara?’ adam, T entreat you. Business before pleasure. An agreement before compas- slon. A soft heart has ruined many honest tradesmen. O, 1t will lead to a throwing away of money. Five shillings—five shill- ings a week; on the poor side with the doles and no rent—0, it should be ample. Consfder, madam, you are not a Lady Boun- titul. “I will consider. For the moment, Mre Brymer, please leave me." Mrs. Brymer obeyed, shaking her head d . pray take a you have another pint of Forgive me it I am Inhos- pitable. Tell me, sir, it you will—helleve me—it I8 not idle curiosity—tell me who you are and how you came to fall so low? Your appearance—your manner—your speech all proclaim a gentleman and a sk “I am a lawyer, madam, as these rags may show you. 1 was of the Irish bar; T have been called to the English bar, by the benches of the Inner Temple." “A There are not, surely, many “‘Madam, 1 believe that I am the only one. The lawyers avold the penalties of debt; they are mostly connected with wealthy familles, or with attorneys in the way of business; they are not, as a rule, very poor at the outset; their creditors know whom they can trust. As for me, I came over to make my fortune.” “You sald that you bad 1o friends in Irelasd.” “I have cousins In plenty. We are a poor family of gentlefolk. My father was in boly orders. Hedled and I spent my slender patrimony at Trinity college and in studying for the bar in Dublin. Then I came over, trusting to the possession of certain gifta or qualities which I thought would advance me. I had but little when I |'THE WoMAN | WHoWAS LosT Mrs Richard Roe had started for Wellville, and had missed the way. She had been wrongly directed by well-meaning friends. ‘While she wae pondering the situation, she saw a fine healthy woman coming toward her, and asked her: “Do you know where Wellville is?” “Of course I do,” was the answer, “I live there.” The stranger gave Mrs. Roe exact directions a8 to the way to Wellville and passed on. But Mrs. Roe stood still. “Suppose,” she said to herself, “ that this woman is deceiving me. Perhaps she doesn’t live in Wellville or know the way.” And while she was still pondering, another woman came by and Mrs. Roe accosted her. “How ean I get to Wellville ?” she asked. Again the way was pointed out and the stranger passed on. But Mrs, Roe still stood in the road, wondering whether the directions given her were trustworthy. One would say that Mra. Roe must be a very singular woman. She wanted to go to Wellville, could not find the way, and yet doubted the information given her by two of arrived in London. But I had no fear. I though I should get on quickly and I bought certain things with which to make & better appearance, anticipating fortune.” He stopped and sighed “It was » mistake that ¥ou made," her own sex who had no motive in the world for deceiving her. But Mrs. Roe is not at all singular. There are many like her. They are sick and want to be well. Not two women, but scores and thousands, say, “ We know the way to be well. We are well after years of sickness, and we can tell you, as a matter of experience, that Dr. Pierce’s Favorite Prescription makes weak women strong and sick women well.” But still the Mrs, Roes stand hesitating, wondering whethor they are being deceived by the women who point the way to health. Often there is a natural reason for this donbt and hesi- tancy. Directions given by friends have been perhaps fol- lowed without result. Perhaps the local physician has said there is no way by which you can regain health. But a large number of the women who have been cured by the use of Dr. Pierce’s Favorite Prescription have gone through the same experience. Friends advised this or that medicine but it failed to cure. Doctors said : “There is no hope of health for you,” and at the last, the use of “Favorite Prescription” healed disease and restored perfect and permanent health. *You have my heartfelt thanks for the kind advice you sent me,” writes Mrs. Florence Archer, of Eason, Macon Co., Tenn, *Words fail to express what I endured for about eight years with female trouble. The awful pain that I had to en!ure each month, no tongue can express. These bearing-down pains, backache, headache, distress in my stomach, and sores in my breast, cramp in limbe—they have all left me and health has taken place of these distressing troubles, What caused them to leave? It was the best medicine on earth—Dr. Plerce's Fa- vorite Prescription, For the first three or four days after tak- ing the medicine I got worse. Had you not told me that I should be apt to feel worse I never would have taken another dose; but in one weel time I began to feel better, After taking six bottles of the * Favorite Prescription’ and using the local treatment you advised [ felt like a new woman.” Dr. Pierce’s Pavorite Prescription cores womanly discases. Hundreds of thousands of women testify to that fact. It has cured in cases where every other available means and medicine had ntterly failed to give more than temporary relief. “Favorite Presoription” cstablishes regu- larity, dries the drains which weaken women, heals inflammation and ulceration and cures female weakness. For expectant mothers it has no equal. It prevents or cures morning sickness, ;n;?uflins the nerves, encourages the appetite and t induces refreshing slocp. 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All these ills have given way to the cura- tive power of your ‘Pavorite P’reccription.’ The greatest relief wus received prior to the coming of my little one, duriny the six previous experiences I was afflicted with morning sickness from begia: to enu of each period, but after using your medy for one week, 1 ‘was entirely relieved of that distressing affliction. No one can appreciate what « relief that was, save those who have actually experienced it.” Sick women are invited to consult Dr. Pierce by lotter, free. All letters are held as strictly private and saoredly confidential. Addwess Dr. R. V. Pierce, Buffalo, N. Y. If vou are led to the purchase of “ Favorite Prescription,” because of its re- markable cures of other women, do not accept a substitute whioh has none of these caree to its cradit. ty and so 0 bost known tonic for or, in other words, the way to be THE WAY TO WELLVILLE, ;i sther werde, the way to be pointod eut in De. Plerce’s great work, The People’s Oommon Sense Mcdical Ad- visor. Yhis bosk containe over athousand large pages, and more than 700 lilus- trotions. it jo sont entirely FREE on receipt of stampe te pay expense of mailing ONLY. Send 31 ene-cont stampe for the beck in paper covers, or 3! stamps for the oloth-bound velums. Address: OR. R. V. PIEROE, Buffalo, N. Y. ance can one who fails expect? He i like 1 a man wounded on the field of battle and |1ett to die.” “Is your father living?" The young man shook his head sadly “He died. He bullt so many hopes upon me that 1 thank God he has not lived to see my destitution.” You are, then, quite friendless?" “Quite—so far as asking assistance. It I were guccessful, I should find scores of fricnds of my old set at Trinity who would rally round me. If I could horrow, I have no security. And beside the costs, in such 4 case as mine, go on growlng of their own accord. The attorney sits at his desk and watches them as they grow. The costs in such a place as this are like the brambles which grow and spread until they cover the whole ground. Stlll, it s, as you s poor thing to represent a lifelong—or a | life short—of captivity. At the last day I shall make answer and eay, “I have done no work. My talent was taken from me and burled in a napkin. I have been for bldden to work. My sins are those of dis content and rebellion agalnst the strokes of Fate. And all, as you for gulneas, with attorney's costs will not get those costs paid congo lation." A poor The were visible behind her mask soft and limpid eyes and they tears.” It was really shameful on the Master slde to confess that one was kept her a debt trifling. Twenty-five guine Nay, they pride themselves on the extent of thelr debts. A man who Is detained for thousands s a leader here by right of hi liabilities Ouls wealth com ect; here It s @ amount of a On the Poor de there | are all detalned for small beggarly, as the turnkey sald “Debt, with costs, no more than Mr. Macnawara, 1 fear that T should be doing you a grievous injustice if I were (o saddle you with my debts Not at all, madam. In the first 1 should rejoice to be of service to a lady soft-hearted and 8o full of mercy u yourself. In the next pla your offer a sures me a sufficlency Do not think too meanly of me when I confess th ica for food I would put away from me the last rags of pride uud self-respect.” T She would not be The beginning to which 1 had looked forward was slow in arriving. Then my creditor—there was but one—hegan to press me for his money. 1 bhad only prom- ises to give him. I could mot, in a word, pay his Dbill—it was only 25 guineas. Madam, 1 am willing to acknowledge the truth of what tbat lady, your friend, ad- vanced. It is true that there are many people who would not pay their just debts but for the terror of the prison. My exs ample and the example of such as myself are to them a warning. It is the only justification of the debtors’ prison. If at any time our legislators could ece their wiy (o enforce the payment of debts with out imprisonment for life this unjust pun- tshment would cease. A# it is, madam am imprisoned for lite for a debt of guineas which 1 am forbidden to pay by the fact of my imprisonment. The thing 18 monstrous, but it is the law.” “Twenty-five guineas? Do you mean that a gentleman, like yourself, can be im- prisoned for life—for the whole of his life —for a paltry debt of 25 guineas? “The law makes no distinction between gentlemen and the common sort. It im- prisons everybody for life; it has but one sentence. Whether the debt is a shilling or £10,000 one must pay or be imprisoned for lite." “But-—surely—25 guineas!' “It is not mueh. The law again, in order to keep the prisoner from the shame of confossing the small amount for which he is locked up, encourages the practice the rule of multiplication debt I8 now about £75, I believe you observe, in the e of the turnkeys and prisoners themselves Is much more creditable.” ““But—pardon me, inqul you really no friends ould much for you? It Is pot much. You could afterward repay it.” ‘Madam~I] have no friends. Cousins I have. but cousins are not fond of relieving the necessities of their relations. Desldes, there religlous difficulties Some of them are Catholics, and my father was a Protestant. Some of them poor and would res#nt the mere suggestion of giving help. Friends? Yes, 1 friend: Trinity, but they are mostly penniless l1kc When all have to make their way in the world, what compassion or assist “Fortune delayed hurried. r, 1 cannot think meanly of vou. think of you with so much pity. Sir, It fmpossible. I will not load you with my debts. 1 retract my off>r. I will not acoept of you as a husband, even in name and title only. It Is too great a burden of humilia- ! ton to lay upon your shoulders.” ho young man was silent. He glanced at his t feet and his ragged gown. “As you will, madam. 1 have at least conversed onne more with a gen'lewoman. I thauk you. And I will go back to tho poor side.’* He and I thank you, madam, for your « Stay, sir quite hopeless He | b “Even if I re @ to do thia Injustice= | the cruelty-—of making your imprisonment a | lifelong without counting your private de- rosc wed low Mpaseicn. One mowent. 1s your cieditor Madam, there “And you will How will you lve I do not know You will ha ter will com o bed is no hope for me." o back to your misery. wadam.” fMcient food win- You will have no fire overing. Alag, sir, alas, what He That 18 some ¥l you do Ho smiled — a cold, wintry smile, ‘Madam,” he sald, “there Is a splendid b 0 enough to sccommodate us all, but far down the road. It is a parish bed. Thoss who lle in it fec ther heat nor cold. They go barefoot; | no clothes; they want no feod are nameless and no oue Inguires for them. The feot of the peo- ple pass daily beside their bed, but they hear nothing: uo one looks after them; they e hey forgotten. They want 1o pity, madam—-not even that of your kind heart they ask not to be num- bered. Forge madam. Let me go on— that bed waits to re » me and all my d friends wlde.” Again he gone out, but the consolation.” lady's eyes they wers filled with n attc 0 asleep ar are is extensiy mands man's d | such pride amounts am have no who we N the poor ould have him pay ®o again e Continued.) place K« or. two years all e lms of my orts Lo cure Eczema hands falled,” write Lestern of Syracuse, wholly cured by Bucklen It's the world's best fop ons, Sores and ull skin diseases. Only are 80 had at of food wis at Kuhy & C