Algona Courier from Algona, Iowa on November 16, 1894 · Page 7
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November 16, 1894

Algona Courier from Algona, Iowa · Page 7

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Algona, Iowa
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Friday, November 16, 1894
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COURIER, ALQONA. IOWA, FRIDAY MOKNING, NOVEMBER ie, 1804. Pilaster of the Mine. BY llOBKTvT BUCHANAN. Inward hovcrftfl, and by the brink of lonely tarns th* heron waded, rising Up as 1 approached, with sleepy waft of wino;. At last, after a ramble of several miles, 1 npproached the tea margin. My path wns now on the stony edge of low-lying cliffs, at "the base of which the waters thundered for • ever. Mere I found a lonely ..promontory Of • black granite, stretching out'into the sen,and whitened at its limits by the chalky droppings of innumerable son-birds. On a rocky Ifllnncl a few. yards from the extreme point of Uio promontory, sat a Hock of cormorants! tis I approached, they turned their snakelike necks, but clid not rise. The sun was warm and bright, the sea calm and shimmering like steel. I threw myself down on tho rocks, and, with face-upturned to the ciear skies, closed my eyes. A largo black winged gull wheeled, screaming, over rpe, imd then sailed slowly away. All I heard was the low murmur of the billows breaking sadly on tho rocks beneath me— that sound which "deepens silence," and lina mich solemn meanings for tho troubled human soul. (Suddenly another sound broke upon my ear. I started, and listened. The sound deemed to cOmo from the sea itself, and was like a mermaid singing. 1 rose quickly, and tlie rockSj walked in tho direction from which tho voice came. Approaching tho edge of the crags, I looked down, and aaw beneath me, in the very shadow of the promontory, a quiet creek. The rocks i'ell astmdar, leaving ft space of sandy beach, some twenty yards broad, and closed by the still waters of the sen, which broke In a thin fringe ot white foam on a i ounny slope of white pebble and golden' sand. It was a nook just such as the f ablod mer- •women or sirens might have chosen when tho world was haunted, and such fair creations brightened the sunshine. But what am I saying? It was haunted still, and by one farswfloter and more winsome than any mere creation of a poet's fancy! Lying like a basking seal on the looso shingle j'ust under tho rocks, and looking up atmo with sparkling eyes, was the colored gjrl from J/emzrara; and standing on tho Watar's edge, with her face looking seaward, •was Ma'delino CJraham. , /'' .'.' :•-•':' - - T^~ - '. ' - . "'-'I j CHAPTJ5K XVII. • {| A TVALJC AOHOSS THE HOOK. HTnll of delight at tho unexpected vision, I tun down the rocks, and soon leapt down tipon the -beach, close to' tho spot where Anita was lying. She uttered a merry cry In Spanish, which caused her mistress to look in my direction. Madeline exhibited no surprise, but after a momentary glance, continued. her occupation, that ot writing or drawing something on the -sand with the point of her parasol. I walked toward her, and 'greeted 'her by name. She smiled and nodded, but still con tinned intent "jpon the sand beneath her. 1 fallowed the direction of her -eyes,. and. to my astonishment road my mime, thus: HUGH TREI/AWNEY, ST. GTJRT.OTT'S. Tlie hot blood rushed to my cheek; but fled ajrain almost immediately, as 1 read close by the words: . GEOBOE KEDBUTH, ESQ. Both the master's name and my own wero prltfted large and bold. Close by them, snwller in slae and in running writing, were, the incomplete letters On which she was then busy—. •-.-.".-.' ' . , . ' •" ,.. mri look nWHJo my Yienrt leap, 'While thrill of rapturous hope trembled thtough my veins, I glanced at Anita; she was basking again, with closed eyes. Car- tied beyond myself by the Inspiration of thd moment, I took my darling's hand. "Miss Graham," I said; "Madeline—may I call you again by that dear name?—ever since we parted, years ago, yon have been the one memory of my life; and when wo met again—-" 1 Would have continued impetuously; but gently disengaging her hand, she cried: | "Anita! come, it is time to gojhome." I The girl seemed to understand, for she ' sprung to her feet and pointed eagerly up tlie rocks. For myself, I stood stupefied and ashamed; but turning again to me with a light smile, Madeline continued: "Arc you returning to tho village, Mr. Trelawney? If so, let us walk togcUier." Something in her manner convinced mo that I had better encroach^ no further, but mako the best of my iinmetliato chance of happiness. So I answered eagerly that 1 was at iiw service, and the next minute I wad piloting her up the rocks. Tho way was troublesome, and she often needed and accepted the help of my hand, thrilling mo through and through with her warm touch, At last wo left the rock-sown promontory behind 113, and stopped out on tho open heath. V\'e two led tlie way, while Anita followed behind, so slowly that wo wero soon left practically aloiie. "How came you to walk so far?" I inquired. "AVe are three or four rnilos, as tho crow flies, from St. Gurlott's." "Oh, I came out early, and tho sunshine tempted mo pu. I did not think that we hart wandered such a distance. Poor Aiiitawill be tired out.'" j "And you?" | "Oil, I love a long walkl" she replied, gayly. "Even in Demerava I used to wander for hours and hours in the woods; and | Bnt no sooner had she reached the "r" than qhe glanctecl up at me, laughed merrily, and Obliterated it all with her little, daintily booted foot. J'W hat brought you here, Mr. Trelawney?" afie satd. .-"I thought that you would^ have been at church." "I thought the sameof you," I replied, •miling. "Then you did not follow us?" "Certainly not; though had I known, I might very possibly have done so. But who could have dreamed of finding you In this solitary place, so, far away from home?" . j "My true home is far away indeed," she answered; -and;raislng her hand, she pointed i right out to sea. "Yonder! Sometime I wish that, as the Scripture says, I had wings ' llko a bird that I might fly back 1" And I saw that her beautiful eyes were dim with tears. > "Have you relations there?" 1 asked. "Or friends whom you love?" "Neither friends nor relations. When ray dear father died I was left quite solitary. But I lived so long there, and was so happy 1 And South America is so beautiful, so different from this dreary land !" 1 watched her nervously, "Some day, perhaps, you will return?" "Perhaps— I cannot tell," she replied, sadly, and turning on.her heel, she walked slowly toward th<) 'spot where Autia was lying. The girl looked up and showed her white topth, smiling; the smile broadened as her tttetress spoke to her rapidly In Portuguese. "Anita is of my opinion," said Madeline; "sne thinks this English climate detestable, niftl she longs for the palms and temples of ttje "West. 1 suppose I shall have to send ijfcr back. The people think her a wild savage because she does not undeistand their barbarous dialect, and she will never settle in England." 1 had my own suspicion that Madeline was laughing at me, and that Anita's smile had A quite different meaning; but I was too happy in the mere presence of my darling to trouble myself on that head. Merely to stand > by her side, and look into her face, and hear her musical voice, was joy sufficient; for never hod she seemed more bright and beau- tifvf She wore a rich sealskin cloak, tightly fitting, and descending to her knees ; a pretty sealskin hat to match ; and tho parasol she , carried was more for use as a walking-stick *tian for a safeguard against the sun. The , breeze had brought the color to her doll- .tjate cheek, and her dark eyes were unusually light and happy. For the time being I forget the social gulf between us, between her wealth and my poverty, and talked freely and unrestrained-- ly. of many things, The old constraint left jne, 1 suppose to the improvement of my manners, for Madeline seemed to look at me and listen to me with unusual interest. "And youf" she said, presently, "Shall you remain in tltls lonely Cornwall all your life?" The question took me by surprise, and w&s 4Uneult to answer, "Who can te|l?" I said. "I have often . thought of trying my fortune across the ,- ocean, but Jmbtt ..has kept me chained to a, <K}11 place and a cheerless occupation, Somen tjraes, 4o you know, Mij$ $rah»m, I ftilnk, It t# all fatality, It seems so strange., for ex. ' ft»p}e, that I sholild hove been brought here ftfftlj,' a*n4 that, even in so. unlikely a pface, we BhoijJd haje been once more thrown to' once I wns nearly lost. Night came clown suddenly, mid 1 had to creep into the bolo of n great tree; and I wasn't frightened, though I could heal' tho tiger-cats crying all round me; for the fire-flies made it almost as light as day. But poor papa nearly went out oi' his mind, and, after that, would never lot mo enter tlie wood's alone." "How did 4hey find you?" "By beating tho woods. There wero about a hundred coolies carrying torches, and making noise enough to wake tho dead. At last, as they were passing, I popped out of'my hiding-place, and cried, quite coolly, 'Here I am, papa!' He was terribly angry, but 1 was soon forgiven." "It would be a hard heart,"-! mimnured, tenderly, "that would not forgive you anything!" She looked at me merrily, and shook her head. "Ah, you don't know me I Poor papa., If he were alive,.could tell you a different talc. I was always a spoilt child, Mr. Trelaw- noy." Thus lightly talking, and playing with the merest threads of conversation, to avoid touching themes of more dangerous interest, we walked across the moor. Though it was wintertlde, tlie air was very closo and warm with sunlight, and Anita lagged more and more behind. At last we came in sight of the village, and paused by the side of the moorland tarn where I had parted with my uncle. My eyes were lixed earnestly on Madeline. Suddenly I saw her start and change color. Following the glance of her eyes, 1 caught sight of a well-known figure approaching. It was George Eedruth, elegantly dressed, and carrying a walking-cane. He came up rapidly, and I saw by the expression of his face that ho was ill-pleased. He glanced at me angrily and contemptuously, and then addressed his cousin. "Where have you been?" ho cried. "1 have been looking for you everywhere. Do you know that it is three o'clock?" "I clid not know it was so lats," replied Madeline, quietly. "Anita and I went wandering across the moor and down to the seaside, where we found Mr. Trelawney." He looked at me again, and 1 saw his brow blacken more and more. ' "Lunch was served at half-past one," he muttered, "and my mother has driven over to afternoon service. I won't trouble Trelawney any further. Take my arm, and let me see you home." He spoke with the airof authority habitual with hini; I was not surprised to see Madeline flush angrily, and decline the proffered arm. ••-..',. . "There is plenty of time for that," she exclaimed. "See! poor Anita is almost exhausted—it would be a charity to assist her; it is none to assist met" ' Indeed, Anita seemed dead beat She was seated on a stone, about a hundred yards behind us, resting her elbows on her knees, her chin In her hands. Eedruth glanced toward her and shrugged his shoulders. "I never go near niggers," he retorted; 'Van't stand them. Perhaps Trelawiiey Is not so particular," he added, with an Insufferable sneer. Our eyes met, and a sharp .retort was on my tongue, when Madeline broke in, with a touch of his own cutting manner. "Anita is not what you so politely call her; and as for Mr. Trelawney, ho is at least a gentleman, incapable of making coarse remarks, oven at the expense of a social inferior." This eulogium of myself seamed to afford George Redmth intense amusement. Possibly he thought tho word "gentleman," had an odcl sound applied to a person of niy position. I flushed to the temples, but did not trust myself to mako any observation.: Without even looking at Bedruth, 1 raised my hat to Madeline, and walked rapidly away. CHAPTER XVIII. I BECEIV.B MY CONOE. Absorbed as i was In my newly-awakened love for Madeline, I failed to notice for some time the olniimes which were going on about us; but I was soon brought from dreamland by the attitude which tho young master chose to take, It soon became clear to me that his resentment, from whatever sonree it sprung, was leveled against me; and In % short time I discovered that the Innocent cautioofall those eruptions was Madeline herself. George Bedruth had made up his mind to woo Madeline Gra,ham, and he honored mo so far as to fear that my presence in St. 6ur- Jott's might be the means of preventing him winning his cousin's hund. A marriage with Madeline would be advantageous to bl», principally because his own position was be- comlujjvery Insecure, he having gambled and bet away roost of bis lortune, and BO being In danger of losing the position which times felt Inclined to go rlgtrt away and no* return till 1 cduld bring our lost one along with me. I began to wonder, too, if my uncle could be right when lie said that tho new overseer had a hand In poor Annie's downfall. Itwaa strange, but since tho night of Annie's disappearance Johnson's face had not been seen in Sk GurWtt's. I was pondering over a solution of all those mysteries when one day an event happened which threatened to bring matters to a cliniax Indeed. I had come up from the mine after a prolonged Inspection of it, and stood at the en- 1 trance, blinded with tallow and droppings, when suddenly 1 heard a wild sound of voices, and looking round I saw two men i face ench other, and looking as If they wero I about to closo in a deadly grip. One ot the . men wns my uncle, tho other was Johnson, ' tho overseer. ! At sight of the man whom ho believed to be his bitterest foe, all my uncle's feebleness seemed to fall miraculously from him. Ho towered above tho other, and raised his clinched fist as It to strike. "You villain 1" ho cried, "Yon cowardly, treacherous villain! Tell me, whar is my, lass? Tell me, or, by tho Lawd, i strike 'ee dead before me 1" ! In another moment tlie arm would have descended, for Johnson was paralyzed with fear;but! sprung forward and caught It with a cry. My uncle tried to wrench himself tree. i "Let gaw, Hugh I" he cried, fiercely. "I told 'ee what I'd do if I met the villain, and ; I'll do 't. Look at 'un, the white-fapod cur; ' he brought trouble to my lass I And imw, while she's wanderin' about tho earth in misery maybe, he uooms yar to laugh at what j he's dawn I" I I still held him firmly; and Johnson, cur that ho wns, seeing that tlie danger waspass- ecl, recovered his presence of mind. "Perhaps, now you're a little calmer," ho THE WISE SON. said, "you'll tell mo wiiat you're raving about?" "I will answer for him," I replied. "Where Is Annie PenclrasonV" Ho shrugged his shoulders, and raised his brows. "It seems to mo you are all raving lunatics together. Why do you ask me these things? What do 1 know of tho girl? "You are supposed to have enticed her from her home. You wero seen with her in FiUmouth, and you must know where she is." "I don't know where she is. 1 met her in Falmouth, it's true, and spoke to her; but her being away from home was no coupern o'mine." I "It's a lie!" cried my uncle, fiercely; and 1 again ho tried to free himself from my grasp, but I held him firmly. ! "It's no use," 1 said; "we sha'n't mend matters with him. We must find out by some other means whether or not he la speaking the truth." The result of all this was a serious illness, which laid my uncle low, and for some weeks threatened his life. During this time Madelino cauio frequently to the cottage, accompanied by Anita, who carried little tempting things for the poor old man to eat. At last tho terrible time passed, and ho rose from his bed—the feeble worn-out wreck of his old self. From that day forth his intellect seemed shaken, but he clung with strange persistence to tho one idea, that Johnson was in Eonie way responsible for all that had taken place. I had my own reasons for refusing to share this belief; nevertheless 1 saw the overseer again, and after the interview with ! him, I became more firmly convinced than ever that my uncle was wrong in his surmises. If Johnson had a hand in Annie's flight, lie was not tho real wrong-doer. 1 still suspected George Bedruth, though as ! yet I had been unable to obtain absolute proof of his guilt. Meantime, having seen my uncle on tha » To be continued ' Mother Crooso's Grave. *A man. is very frequently ignoranl of the things that lie nearest to him," said Thomas M. Bnbson, the Boston lawyer, Who has been corporation counsel for many years. "A case in point is furnished from my own experience. The windows of my office look down upon tho old Granary graveyard that is- one of the landmarks of Boston. It contains the Franklin monument, the tomb of John Hancock and the dust of a number of old colonial governors. That much I knew up to the big encampment of the Grand Army iu our town three or four years ago. It seemed that of all the sights of Boston none attracted the great crowd of Grand Army visitors like the old Granary cemetery. I think at least 10,000 people- made a daily pilgrimage there while the encampment lasted. "I was standing with a friend watching the crowds one day, when ho remarked: 'I guess it's "Mother Goose's grave that draws tho strangers.' Here was something new to me. Boston bred and born as I was, I didn't know up till then that the old lady whoso rhymes have delighted thousands of juveniles all over the broad land had been laid to rest within a stone's throw of. my oflice. Mother Goose is no myth*,;, her real uame was Aun Goose, as appears on her tombstone, which contains nothing else but the simple record of uer birth and death. Whether sbo wrote all the rhymes herself or simply aollatecl them is a vexed question, but In any event.young America will ever oherish her memory." "* Ho Knew IJtls Own Anther and 'flint Tm- served Mis Good Nntno with His Parent. Primus pore was the son and grandson of Presbyterian ministers. He had inherited his religion as he had his moderate wealth. He had been accustomed to both since! his youth, so that he never made a display of .either. Though a reasonable share of his income was subject to the calls of charities, benevolences, nncl public-spirited movements, he was never ostentatious in his subscriptions for such purposes. " He dealt with his religion very much as he did with his estate—there was a moderate supply for every clay use, biit he never indulged himself with any lavish or spectacular displays with it. He attended church regularly, was one of the trustees, and passed the plate for the offertory. But lie wns never known to pray in public, nor was he over very prominent during 1 revivals or special oucasions of devotional sentiment. Primus Cls was a graceless youth who had not yet come into his patrimony cither of religion or '.vorldly goods. At the time of this history be was awny from home tit a preparatory school learning tlie necessary Greek and Latin and other tilings, as bis. parents fondly believed, to enable him to enter the freshman class at Yale, of which institution his father, his'grand- father, his great-grandfather, and several other ancestors were 1 alumni. But Primus fils had a greater faculty for breaking academy rules than he had for mastering the Latin dative or the Greek aorist. There never was a Friday passed that bis name was not read off in chapel at tho head of the list of those students whose cleportmcynt caused great anxiety to tho principal and professors who considered themselves as standing in loco ptircntis to all the boys under their chargo. It was on one of these fatal Fridays that Primus pere came to visit Primus fils at the academy. He came on an early train, gave his parental greetings before recitations began, and then proceeded to interest himself about the academy grounds while Primus fils attended his daily recitations. These over, the two met in the short interim between the last recitation and the hour for the daily chapel exercises in the young man's room. Mutual inquiries of family and school matters engrossed their attention until the chapel bell rang. "I'll have to go to chapel now fora few minutes," began the young man, who had been revolving in his mind all morning how he could keep his father away from chapel and the mortifying announcement of his shortcomings in deportment. The latest investigations by the United States and Canadian Governments show the Royal Baking Powder superior to all others in purity and leavening strength. Statements by other mamtfachirers to the contrary have been declared by the official authorities falsifications of the official reports. ROVAU BAKING FOWDEH CO., 103 WALL ST., NEW-YORK. iii^lil^l^^^il^^i^ How Adam Fell. sees The_ Fi-ench account of Adam's Monsieur Adam, ha vaka up — ho iiue belle demoiselle asllp in za garden. Voila de la chancel "Bon jour, Madame Iv," Madame Iv, she vake; she bole her fan before to her faoe. Adam put on his eyeglass to admire ze tableau, and zoy make von promenade, Madaruo Iv she feel hungry, She Bees appel on ze arbre. Serpent se promeue »ur Partore — make one walk ou ze tree, "Monsieur le Serpent, " say Iv, "vlll vous haye ze bonlo to peek me some j'ftis faim." "Gertainemeat, IT, oh.»rmes de vo^taYQlr." "Hola, Mwretep, YOU*!" sayg stop cjue souew vous laireP Wa» madness is zees? Xou must not pick m appoU" Ze snake, be take one pinch of Bhnuff, he say: "Au, Monsieur not know-how z?re , la 1 ' ' J1 " her money would restore to him, Thus It was that he watched tfcs growing friendship between myself and his opusln with ever «> ... „„ ., , orbing angejijind_ finding he could-noj; gossjne prpjie,ebe.t» &f opeujycpi»trol nor, fie,deterjnijied.'1 nft^'^Ti'pejrW^me? to Coffer. wwd learned,'to ga,lnj)lsend^i'by treaohery, zeeaa' ftH4t '—'" "' It was not to thw things, however, which' fruit." Jwasauje at this time to give my entire; thoughts; other apd iaor§ ' ^ ppcurred wWoJj Jor 4 time Bister fypw W JB'nd, AJ'tomWSgjj W „ .--.,...... with us, /My'URole *§Wft}»eci IntJia .,...,. . . yw some o| ... flefflndu—gees* forbidden Jy, see make ope cpurte^y-' "I'LL HAVE TO GO TO THE OHAPEIi NOW." "I'll be back here in about fifteen minutes and then we'll go to dinner." "What's the matter with me going with you?" asked Primus pere. "It's a good while since I went to a chapel exercise at a college and I'd like to see how it, K"f'Mi«." "Oh, you're tired now, and you'd better stay here and rest. You wouldn't . be interested, anyway. There's nothing there but a lot of boys and some old professors. It's a pretty dull affair. Besides you must be pretty tired after your ride on the train and roaming-around the campus all morning." ; "I don't know about that," replied ' Primus pere,slightly piqued at his son's > implication that he was no longer so young and vigorous as he once- was in spite of the filial language in which it was couched. I "I'm not tired, and besides.I'd like to see all there is to be seen while I'm here." Primus fils was in a cold sweat. He dared not permit his father to be present when his own shortcomings would be made public. But how to prevent it? He played his trump card. "Well, all right; but if you go they'll call on you to lead in. prayer. They , always do when any of the boys' fath- • ers visit chapel," i It won. ! "Well, I don't know, George, but I am feeling a little tired. I. guess I will stay here and rest, and then we'll have tho whole afternoon . togethe'r. You won't be gone long, will you?" Joints and Cartilage, Why do joints work so easily and never give us any pain? Iu a fresh joint its appearance iu life can be readily studied. In the ball aud socket joint the round end of tho bone, as well aa the cup, are covered or lined with a smooth substance called "cartilage," or "gristle" kept moist and smooth with synovia.' Cartilage contains no nerves, and has no feeling; if it had, we should have pain when we moved. The bones are kept in place at the joints by very strong bands or ligaments, iu hinge joints a number of these bauds are- fastened above jvncl bojow, but in ball and socket joints they also surround the joint, forming a cap, iu which tho jojut moves freoly. Iu' disease this smooth cartilage gets worn away, and the ends of bono rub together like those of a skeleton; tho pain is great, because the bqnes have nerves, though the cartilage has nono. A bone -vvithput cartilage }s , jjke # decayed to<Hh ^ith au exposed aei've, IB iV healthy tooth th°.' 'W\ T e,}s well ooyertnj, aurt gives,, no pain/, and. '""" HAS A UNIQUE GRAVEL WALK Made of Millions o£ rabbled Imported From m-ir/.it Iu CofTco Suoks. A well known downtown coil'co merchant, says the Now York World, boasts of having at his country place on Long Island the most expensive gravel walk in tho world. His firm annually imports from Brazil as many as 250,000 sacks of coffeo. In every sack there is to bo found from.one to three pounds of small pebbles. They do not get there by accident, but are put in to make weight, just as the unscrupulous Chinaman adds blue elay iu solution to the tea he scuds us. The presence of tho pebbles is a rule that very rarely prosei'its an, exception. For years the presence of tho guilty little pellets were a source of constant annoyance and expense, consequent upon the breaking of grinding machinery. Then genius came to the aid of the coffee roaster and invented a machine somowhat on the order of that delicate apparatus found in banks which detects and thro\vs to ono side light weight gold coin. The coffee be.ans by this device are passed into a hopper Which leads them to a broad wire belt, where they spread out. A strong fan blast removes particles of husks, cover, etc., to one side. In u manner inexplicable to the bystander the pebbles roll to one side of the belt and pass into a chuto which leads to a bin, whilo t.ho coffeo goes marching on to the end of the belt, where it drops into a bna, from which it passes to the parching department. There are a dozen or more of these machines in operation night and day. Tho amount of pebbles in a sixty pound sack of coffee will average two pounds the year through, or, in this establishment, a total of 500,000 pounds annually. The coffee importer began the construction of'his novel garden path five years ago, and about 2,500,000 pounds of Brazilian pebbles have gone into it. Inasmuch as every pound of these pebbles was paid for as coffee at not less than 10 cents per pound the garden walk represents and is a souvenir of the duplicity of the Brazilian exporter to the oxtent of $25,000. Misery Alter lUeuls. The oppressive embargoes levied upora the inner man by his inveterate enemy, dyspepsia, after meals, are lifted and thtf yoke cast off by that sovereign medicinal liberator from bodily ailments, Hostetter 1 * Stomach Bitters. Heartburn, flatulence^ oppression at tlie pit of the stomachy tho presence of bile where it does 008 belong, are alike remedied by this potenft reformer of a disordered condition o£ tho gastric organ and tho liver. It i» the prince of tonics and stomachics, iuvig- 1 orating at the same time that it remedies/ Both appetite and sleep are improved by it. A wineglass before or after meals, and before retiring, will be found an efficieu* restorative of the ability to digest and a*- 1 similate and to rest tranquilly. Use is forl malarial, kidney and rheumatic troubUl and for constipation. For the aged and) infirm it is highly beneficial. «-»_e Tourist (in Utab)—Polygamy•:is naT longer practiced, I am told. Ex-Mormon (dejectedly)—No, and it's', a shame. Only, one wife! What good 1 • is one wife? Just a trial, that's all. How so? . j Everything Is at sixes and sevens. Nothing ever clone. Buttons off, meala| half cooked—everything wrong. Ia| the good old .days we had ono wifo to sew on buttons, another to darn stock*' ings, another to boss the servants, another to do the shopping, and> another to attend to the duties of so* ciety. A man had some comfort, then. A Child Enjoys The pleasant flavor, gentle action soothing effects of. Syrup o£ Figs, when iol need of a laxative, ^aud it the father or mother be costive or bilious the moefe gratifying results follow its use; so that \V is the best family remedy known, and every family should have a bottle ""a hand. Resident— What are you looking lor. Messenger Boy — I'm looking for the Home fer Indignant Single Women. — • - * • » To tuo Suiior n, yacht is superb, but how* much more lovely to the landsman are the rosy cheeks of young ladies who use tilcnn'u Sulphur Soap. ' 8100 Reward ffilOO. The reader of this paper will be pleased to learn that there is at least ono dreaded disease that science has been able to euro in all ita Stages, and that is catarrh.. Hall's CatarrhCure is the only positive cnreknown .to the medical fraternity. Catarrh being a constitutional disease, requires a constitutional treatment. Hall's Catarrh Cure is taken internally, acting directly on tho blood and mucous surfaces of the system, thereby destroying the foundation of the disease, and giving the patient strength by building up the constitution and assisting nature in doing its work. The proprietors have so much faith in its curative powers that they, offer One Hundred Dollars for • any case that it fails to cure. Send for list of testimonials. Address, F. J. CHENEY & Co., Toledo, O. by druggists, 75c. Visiting the Siclc. Always when visiting a sick person endeavor to sit where the invalid may see you without making an effort to do so. " Under any circumstances it is always more satisfactory to see the person to whom one is talking and nothing is more fatiguing to an invalid than to be obliged to twist into an uncomfortable position in order to see,a visitor. The good effect of the most cheery talk will bVnu'llitied by the fatigue of the effort. And don't speak of depressing subjects; above all refrain from talking of similar cases that you have known or heard of, unless by doing so you can make tho patient more hopeful. Tell all the bright, cheery tilings you can; retail pleasant bits of news, but don't stay too long, even though urged to remain.— DemoresCs Magazine. A curious estimate comes from London. It is thai out of 1,000 men who marry, 83:} marry younger woraeu, 679 marry women of the same age aud 89 marry older women. Invest Now In the best, most wholesome and most valuable reading obtainable for 1805, Tho Youth's Companion offers unequalad value and good reading for all family, and costs but $1.75 ft year, Mr. Gladstone, two of Queen Victoria's daughters, Rudyard Kipling, Mark l\yaln, J. T. Trowbridge, and more than 100 other, eminent writers contribute to the volume for next veari , New subscribers who send $1,75 at once receive The Companion free until January 1, J.895, including the Thanksgiving, Chmtmaa and New Year's numbers, and a year's subscription besides. ' ' The most valuable clock in the world! is one that was made by the hands of' Lotus XIV of France. It is now owned by a member of ,the Rothschild family, who bougt it for S108.000. AWAY A Sample Package (4 to 7 doses) oft I* B~Vit£H»/-m*ci &- To any one sending name dttU tis on a postal card, ONCE USED THEY ARE ALWAYS IN FAVORS Hence, our object in sending •ilient out broadcast ON TRIAL. They absolutely cure Sick Headache. Biliousness, Constipation, Coated Tongue, Poor Appetite, Dyspepsia and kindred derangements of the Stomach, Liver aud Bowels. Don't accept some substitute said to o+ "just as good, 11 The substitute costs the dealer less. It costs you ABOUT the same, HIS profit is in the "just as good,** WHERE IS YOURS? Address for PPEE SAMPIE, World's Dlspunsary Medical AssoclntJoff,"'' No, 663 Alain St,, BUFFALO, W,, V, ' • -I— ^T. ,-,-' i v ISf It will be to you? interest whW - '^ wntuig to_ advertisers t9 say ygu saw * >'-"' ~ advertisement in this paper, ,

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