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< 'V WOODEN SPOIL & . Iv Sy VICTOR ROUSSEAU • • * ,.vV, '\ ,J " ILLUSTRATIONS BY IRWIN MYERS r (Copyright. *»y George H. Doran Co.) I #, .-.if <r yr • -MY FATHER WOULff NEVER CONSENT--NEVER, HILARY.** Synopsla-Rntrr Askew, a young American, inherits from an unci# • hundred square miles of forest in Quebec. Upon taking: possession he discovers all sorts of queer things. Lamartlne, Ma uncle's lawyer, tells his the property is comparatively worthless and tries to Induce him to sell. Lafe Connell, the mill foreman, tells him his uncle has been systematically robbed. Morris, his manager. Is associated with the Ste. Marie company, a rival concern owned by Brousseau, the "boss" of the region. Madeleine, the beautiful daughter of Seigneur Hosny. original owner of Askew's land, is pursued by Brousseau, who has her father In his power. The hero decides to stay and manage his property. He discharges Morris and makes Connell manager. He whips "Black" Pierre, foreman of a gang of Brousseau's men cutting on nla Innd. He defies Brousseau. Leblanc. his boss Jobber, deserts to the enemy. From Father Lucien Askew learns the story of Marie Dupont, daughter of the captain of a lumber schooner. The girl's mother, now dead, had been betrayed, and she herself is looked on askance and has few friends. Maris knows the name of her mother's betrayer, but has never revealed it to her father. Askew finds Madeleine Rosny hostile to him. Askew and Connell visit Simeon Duval's dance hall in Ste. Marie. Revenue officers raid tt and Askew is blamed for the raid. He and Connell rescue Marie Dupont. Askew saves Madeleine Rosny when her horse runs away. She gives the warning. ' Look to your boom!" and then the mill boom breaks and Askew's logs are carried away to the St Lawrence. Who sawed the boom? Baptiste. toe Jealous lover of Marie deserts Askew. Brousseau brings about a strike of Askew a mill hands. Askew and Connell part in anger over the strike. Askew starts to stop Louis Duval from opening a saloon !n St. Boniface. Madeleine asks him not to go Askew breaks up the liquor selling and runs into a trap, where he fights four of bis enemies. He is stabbed and toft to die. Father Lucira. Madeleine and Connell find him near death. Madeleine takes him to ths chateau, where he recovers. } A* CHAPTER X;---Continued. *V i. She broke down. "What must jw think of me!" she cried. 55 ' "I think--' Vegan Hilary. She Bp rang to her feet, facing him. ^"'f'fThat I knew of the plan to cat your 4?v fjoom! Yes, I did know, bnt only ft little while before It happened. And-- fi: listen 1--I was on ray way to you, to warn you, when the horse bolted. And • the shock of the fall made me forget tlf.'- .for a few moments afterward. But ^"4; then It was too late!" !$>• * * Her words flung a great burden Jfrom Hilary's mind. He had never hS .been able to reconcile the thought of V .'her guilt in the conspiracy with his -t ^knowledge of her, his conception : I which was almost knowledge. •'1~ -v, "I was sure you could not have \ N 'known--I tried, at least, to make myj self believe you did not know, In spite i *„%vt'-of your words," he said. "Mademolaelle Rosny, I ask only one thing; it if*," t V was not Baptiste?" ft >lY "Jean Baptiste? He is Incapable of such a crime! Monsieur Askew, I ->do not know who It was, save that It > was some man employed by--by him, ! probably from Ste. Marie. And bej cause I bad known--that was why I ?? told you that It was too late for the the good-wilL That was why I was unhappy, and seemed in trouble, on ' the day when you met me riding, aft- PS; "I Love You, Hilary," She Answered. •rwartL" She raised her head and met his eyes at last. "And I went to you that night and asked you to leave ; 8t Boniface because I knew that Edouard Brousseau"--she hesitated at the name--"meant to kill you. He had hinted as much to me." **I presumed once," began Hilary quietly, though his heart had sudden- ; ly begun to hammer, "to ask you ; question about Monsieur Brousseau which angered you. Whether he meant so much to you. I dare"--he • took her hand in his--"to ask it again." "No," she said in a whisper, looking down. "He never meant so much know it now--and since that day when he let me see the evil In his heart he has meant less than nothing." Her breath came and went quickly as she spoke; she was afraid; she tried to withdraw her hand, but he was standing beside her, holding It fast. She knew that If she looked up she would be unable to resist him; { but already he had drawn her Into his arms. "I love you, Madeleine." She did not try to disengage herself ; she was trembling, and he could not see her face. "Madeleine! Tell me--" He was conscious of a stupendous fear; all the future hung upon that Instant, and still she gave no sign. "Won't you look at me, Madeleine? Won't you speak to me?" At that she raised her head, and tang it back with a proud gesture, and looked Into his eyes. "I love you, Hilary," she answered, with pride that forbade denial or coquetry. And Hilary feared no longer. Everything was changed to joy that seemed to blaze about him, lighting up the day. For a long time that morning they everything except their happl It was not for an hour, perart until Hilary began to speak of hla hopes for the future that she remembered what she had to say. "I should have told you," she said. "The waiting must be so long. My father would never consent--never, Hilary." "What has your father against me. he asked, "except my cutting dewn his if And, as for that, a man who sells his property, or rights over it, surely can never Justify himself in bearing Ill-will to those who purchase from him." "It Is not that, Hilary. It Is because-- well, first, because you are an American. He does not love the English, but he hates Americans. He thinks that they betrayed Canada In 1783. And because the people are satisfied under English rule, and loyal, he resents It and broods over It." "But that Is all ancient history," said Hilary, laughing at the absurdity of the Idea. As a key to conduct, the Seigneur's antiquarian motives appeared impossible. She smiled. "He Is very good and very just," she said tenderly, "but he has let his dreams take hold of him too much. And they are bound up with his craze for the land. He wants the seigniory to remain undivided for ever, he wants the feudal tenure back, with the serfs of his boyhood days; he loves his land far better than he loves me--at least, I believe he looks on me as an accessory of it." She hesitated. "Hilary," she continued presently, "that is how it was arranged that I was to marry--him." Hilary noticed her unwillingness to pronounce Brousseau's name. "It was because he has a hold on the seigniory, and If my father lost it the shock would kill him. "When--he--was a boy, working for my father here, he had ambitious dreams, like so many young Canadians. My father became interested In him, gave him an education, and helped him. He repaid it by scheming to get hold of the Rosny inheritance. He set to work, won my father's confidence, and got him to put his money in worthless companies. Then he became his creditor. I knew nothing of all this, because I was at school in Paris. But when I came home, after my mother's death, my father was in his power. "He tried to free himself by selling your uncle the timber rights. He could only bring himself to do this because he knew that some day the trees would be cut down, and the mill would go, and we should have our ancient solitude again. But he needed more money to help a relative in Quebec who had lost his fortune through taking his advice to invest in one of the companies. My father felt obligated to him. So--he--got the mortgage, and It expires In December, and--that's all, Hilary, dear, except to say that, although It was expected I was to marry him, I never in my heart expected to- And I wouldn't let him--kiss me. Only my cheek--once or twice. It used to make him so angry. He hates you so much, Hilary, and once he was jealous --he seemed to divine--and he accused me of caring for you. That was what made me angry with you. I tried to hate you more, and all the time I-- used to think about you, dear--I was ashamed--I am still ashamed--" "I think we must both have known that we were meant to love each other, as soon as we met," Hilary said. "I think I did know," answered •softly. "Does he know foot decision?' asked Hilary. » She nodded. "I told him when he gave me to understand his wicked design against you that I could never be anything to him. I had not gauged him before--or, rather, I had been hypnotized by my sense of duty toward my father. But. Hilary, remember this"-- her cheeks glowed and she looked very earnestly at him--"If your love is as true as mine, and as unswerving as mine, you can remain happy In the knowledge that we love each other. And as long as your love Is unswerv Ing you can know that I love you, Nothing can alter my love except the knowledge that yours Is not true. And although the waiting may be long shall never become his wife to save my father's lands--nearer, Hilary." She was crying softly, her cheek against his shoulder. Hilary took her in his arms. "Dear, I am going to tell your father," he said. She started out of his arms. "Hll ary! You must not. It would kill him to know." "But he must know, Madeleine. Don't you see, nothing Is to be gained by delay. It Is light that be should know." "He will be your enemy, Hilary. He will fight you to the bitter end." "But 1 shall not be his. What harm can he do me?" "Listen, first," she said, as they began walking slowly back toward the Chateau. "The other day, as soon as your recovery was assured, father went down to the mill and talked with your hands. He gave them a terrible scolding. He told them that they owed as much duty toward their employer as toward him. It was not bocau.se he loved you, Hilary, but because of his sense of duty. He thinks It is my duty to sacrifice myself for the seigniory. There ivlll be no more trouble with your workmen, now that they know you are our friend. But, Hilary, I can't bear to have the old, bad feeling back again. Olve me up, dear 1" He laughed and put his arm about her. "I can't believe he will hate me foreyermore, just because I want to take you away from him. No, dear, I shall tell him, but not today perhaps. You see, with less than three months before us, we can't drift any longer." She sighed. "I suppose you are right, Hilary," she said. "But then-- what will happen to us?" 1 "Is the Interest very much?" "It Is not the interest, Hilary. It Is the principal. Hilary, it is ft hundred and fifty thousand dollars." Hilary looked glum. There was no chance of raising that amount anywhere. And it was his turn to despair. Are you sure," he asked, "that the sacrifice Is worth your while? I feel like a thief, to rob your father and you, unless you are sure And It was her turn to be hopeful. "I am sure that I love you, dear," she answered, "and that the sacrifice my father expects of me. la an upjust one." So they resolved to speak.no more about it, to tell Rosny as soon as an opportunity occurred, and to wait, though the waiting for something to eventuate which would resolve the difficulty seemed useless. Only a miracle could save the seigniory from Brousseau's grasping hands. There was one thing that bad puzzled Hilary for a long time, and now it stayed in his thoughts and would not leave him. Why was Brousseau willing to spend unlimited money to oust him from his timber rights? Why did he not balk at murder? He broached this subject with Madeleine, who looked at him In wonder. I never thought of It In that way," she answered slowly. "I thought it was just--Just because he sensed that we were going to tcare for each other, and so wanted you away." It may be so," mused Hilary. "But somehow I fancy there must be a deeper reason." As he concluded Madeleine stopped suddenly and clutched his arm in agitation. They had reached the side of the Chateau. From where they stood the front of the building was visible. buggy was at the door, and Hilary recognized the horse as Brousseau's. He was standing In the living-room when they went in, facing the Seigneur across the table. His rage, which he made little effort to hide, was patent It was pitifully clear that he was the dominating force there, and that Rosny had been endeavoring to placate him without avail. Come in, Madeleine," said the selgnneur, turning to her. "You will excuse us, I am sure. Monsieur Askew," he added to Hilary. "No I" shouted Brousseau. "It will be just as well that your friend the American shall understand the situation. I am a plain man, and I speak without concealment to any one who cares to listen. So you have been Implicating me in your troubles with your men, eh. Monsieur Askew? Because one of the workmen whom you have assaulted at various times draws a knife on you and cuts you slightly, while half unconscious from your blows, you allege a plot on my part to murder you?" Without answering him, Hilary turned to the Seigneur. "If Monsieur Brousseau's business Is with me, no doubt you and Mademoiselle Rosny will excuse us," he said. It ain't with you," retorted Brousseau, scowling. "I was just telling you my opinion of you, the same as I'd tell any man, no matter who he was. It's with you, Rosny," he continued, addressing the Seigneur again. "And It ain't private. Private? Dlable, It's too public! It's made me the laughingstock of St. Boniface, and Ste. Marie too. Every one's seen Mademoiselle Rosny riding and driving with me. Now she says she won't have any more to do with me. Why? Have changed? Ain't I the man I always was? When I make a bargain I stick to It." "Monsieur Brousseau," protested the Seigneur, "we Rosnys do L.ot break our pledges. Whatever my daughter has contracted to do will be done. But this is hardly the occasion, or the manner " "I know it ain't," said Brousseau, subsiding; and Hilary felt Madeleine's hand, which had gripped his arm tightly to restrain him, relax Its tension. "Maybe I forgot myself. I don't want to be anything but a gentleman In the presence of ladies, but It's hard, Monsieur Rosny, when everything's as good as settled, to have It put back In the melting-pot. Meaning you, Monsieur Askew!" he continued, sneering Into Hilary's face. "That's where you come Into this business. When people in St. Boniface began to talk about Mademoiselle here having thrown me over for him"--he was addressing the Seigneur again--"it's more than fieeh and blood can stand." The Seigneur looked pitifully distressed. His face, flushed with resehtment at Brousseau's insolence, was molded Into impotence by conflicting Impulses. He stepped forward. "I am sure, gentlemen, that there exists no cause for disagreement," he said. "Monsieur Askew Is entirely guiltless of what you suggest Please remember, Monsieur Brousseau, that he Is my guest. Madeleine, my dear, I suggest tliat you and Edouard have a quiet talk together. I know that you bold your word as sacred as we Boenys have always bald our. word." i»laitied & -lraWt Brousseau" she sala in a low tone. "You know It. You asked me to be your wife and I refused. You took a good deal for granted. You took me for granted. You made a mistake. When you treacherously conspired to cut Monsieur Askew's boom, when you planned his death, you lost whatever chance you had ever had. I shall never marry you." Brousseau staggered backward, came up against tjie table, and stood staring at her in incredulity, In fear, in fury, his own face whiter than hers. The Seigneur sat down In his chair heavily, seeming to collapse there. Then Brousseau flung his fear aside and laughed, and It was the most evil laugh tnat Hilary had ever heard. He addressed Rosny; and as he spoke he continued to advance toward him, until he was shaking hla fist In the old Seigneur's face. "I understand now," he' sneered. "This fine American has been at work in this matter. It Is he who has been spreading these lying ftorles about me. I don't blame your daughter, Rosny. A woman Is easily Influenced by a new face. So's a man, for that matter. 'I don't blame her. I expect my wife to be true to me after we're married-- ao more and no less. I'll take care of the love. I ain't a hard man. I can make allowances for human nature. I expect to mold her and to keep watch over her. Maybe she'd do the same with me. "But this is different, Rosny," he shouted furiously. "He's been telling her lies about me. He came up here and started In to crush me. He wants to drive me out of Ste. Marie. I'm not the man to allow that, Rosny! You know what I mean. TU deal with him when the times comes. I'll speak to him again presently. I'm speaking to you now. Is she going to marry me or ain't she? You know what It's going to cost you If she goes back on her word." Rosny groped her way to his feet.! The old duelist, who In his younger days would flght at the drop of the' hat, had been brought pitiably low, but not BO low as Brousseau thought His face was aflame. He opened his mouth, stuttered, and pointed toward the door. "You can go. Tou can go, Monsieur Brousseau," he stammered. "Custom -Custom and courtesy forbid--insult a guest--go before I forget myself." 'Til go, then," shouted Brousseau, and moved toward the door. "You've had your chance. Once more. Is she willing to be reasonable? I keep my word, In friendship or enmity. Will she keep hers? If so I'll forget I'll call It a whim. I--M No, I shall never be yottr wife/' said Madeleine quietly. Brousseau swung upon Hilary. "Some day FU get you, you lying dog I" he swore, and raised his hand threateningly. Madeleine darted between them. You coward!" she cried. "You coward, to threaten a wounded man, whom you do dare not look in the face in anger when he is well!" Brousseau shrugged his shoulders and turned toward the dooiv The malignant smile upon his face seemed frozen there, giving him the aspect of a satyr's mask;. Hilary came forward and tried to draw Madeleine aside, bnt she still confronted Brousseau with blazing eyes. But it was the Seigneur's look of agony and shame that was the most vivid part of the picture. Rosny stood like a statue beside the door, watching Brousseau make his way along the corridor toward the entrance. Hilary put his arms about Madeleine, supporting her. Her courage was gone, and she was Weeping uncontrollably. The front door slammed and Rosny turned back Into the room. He burst out In passionate words. "It is all gone!" he cried. "Everything-- home, lands. Inheritance. And It Is well gone. The Rosny seigniory is nearly everything to me, but you are more, Madeleine. Onr name means little enough now, but It shall never become alUed with that of the scoundrel who has robbed me of everything else." He raised his clenched first and shook It in the air with a passionately dramatic gesture, as if to register his vow. His face was strangely mottled with red and white, and he seemed to have aged ten years within ten minutes. "I offer you my humblest regrets for what has occurred this morning, monsieur," he said to Hilary. "There was a time when I should have exacted to turn love her," aniwered Hilary dm- Madeleine Was as Pale as Death, but •he Stood Forward Bravely. personal requital. Now, alas, I cannot! I can only bear the blame. But as for you, monsieur, you who came here in an evil day to cut my trees. you who are my guest, what have you to say who have brought this ruin upon me?" Madeleine started forward as If to protest, but he silenced her With a feature of his open hand. "I ask yon what you have to any, monsieur," he repeated. UI Ask you how you justify yourself, you who are! waa n®. other sound la the room. ply. The words seemed to sting Rosny to the quick. "You are preeuaptnoua, monsieur I" he cried. ^Perhaps you, too, thought that the heireaa W est With the trees?" Madeleine cried out and laid her hands appeallngly upon her father's arm; he did not repulse her, but continued speaking as if he were not conscious of her presence. "She shall never be your wife. You have done harm enough hone, monsieur. When you are well my caleche Is at your disposition, to take you back to your mill. And henceforward, unless you claim the last Inch of your legal rights to cut about the Chateau-- which I do not think you will" he added with reluctant Justice--"let us see you no more." "You are unjust!" cried Madeleine. "We love each other. There exists no reason why we should not love. Monsieur Askew is as good as any man," "An American!" cried Rosny hotly. "This is not his country, and our ways are not his. He Is not one of us.4' "Yet you were not too proud to pledge me to that other man, who la not one of us either, except by remote race. Against my will. Without tny knowledge." "Enough I" cried Rosny. "It Is all past!" •The memory is not'past. Yes, you pledged me to* him and placed the first links of the chain about my neck, hoping that the understanding, to which was no party, would gradually enmesh me, capture me, that I should become his wife and save your land for you." The Seigneur turned on her a look In which humiliation struggled with anger. He seemed stupefied by her outburst. Hilary Interposed. "Monsieur Rosny, I love Madeleine* and I intend to marry her," he said calmly. "But I realize your feelings, and I understand how great a shock this has been. You invited me to depart when I am well. I am well enough to depart now. But I shall return, to see her and to plead our cause frankly with you. There exists now no reason, no valid reason--" 'You shall never come here I" thundered the Seigneur, losing all self-con-' trol. "The day when I sold your uncle the timber rights over my land was the most evil day of my life. Go--if you are well, go! My caleche is ready for you. Co, monsieur, in God's name, and trouble me no longer!" He raised his voice and shouted, "Robltallle! Robitallle!" From Bome place in the recesses of the Chatueau a feeble, quavering cry answered him. And through the doorway Hilary saw the ancient serving man come shuffling to. obey his master. And, as he looked at him, his resentment died. The two old men-- Rosny In his brown swallow-tails and the tight trousers strapped under his boots. Robltallle, In the faded butler's uniform, seemed playing a part, acting In some scene laid in the long past. Or, rather, they were the past They had no place in the modern world, those ancient figures in their ancient dress, and with their ancient ways. They cumbered the stage of life, lingering there when their exits were long overdue. They were unreal as phantom figures glimpsed In a wild dream. Pity for the two futile old men choked Hilary's throat. He could feel nothing but that as he watched Robltallle come to the door, bobbing and shuffling, with stiffened joints that made him more like a marionette. But he felt too, the urgency of taking Madeleine away, Into a world of reality, before the same dream Infected her. She came up to I^llary softly and placed her finggrs on his arm, looking Into his face wistfully. "You must go, dear, Snd not try to convince him now," she said. "It has been a terrible blow to him. He looks so 111. I am afraid for him. I shall come to you tomorrow and tell you--" "Robltallle," said the Seigneur, Monsieur Askew has decided, much to my grief, to leave this afternoon. You will have the goodness to pack his things and to prepare the caleche for him. You will drive him to the mill." , The old man muttered* acquiescence and shuffled away. Hilary turned toward Rosny. Frankly he held out hla hand. The action might have been Illtimed, but it responded to his deepseated feeling. But Rosny did not seem to see the gesture. He stood staring across the room, one hand clutching his spreading collar, and his face, which had been white and red, was purple. Hilary turned away. He had reached the door when he heard a sound as if Rosny was clearing his throat Then Madeleine cried out In fear. Hilary turned, to see Rosny sit heavily down in his chair. His eyes closed, his arms drooped over the sides; his head fell on his breast Hilary ran to him. He was unconscious, and breathing heavily. Hilary tried to raise him, to carry him to the sofa, but the man seemed made of iron as he lay, a dead weight In Hilary's arms. At Madeleine's cry old Robltallle hjui turned, too, and he came shuffling back. As he perceived his master lying In the chair he began to utter wild, whimpering cries. "His father went that way," he mumbled. "I always knew he'd go like that. Forty-five years I've served him. Forty-five years. I always knew "Help me to get him into the next room, to bed," said Hilary. Robltallle did not understand, but he aided Hilary to raise his master, and together they half dragged and half carried him Into the drawing room and laid him on HIlary*a bed. Madeleine kneeled beside him In despair, her hands clasped, her eyes strained on his face. Hilary was loosening his collar and the upper part of his clothing. Robltallle had shuf fled out. "I have killed him!" cried the girl, In pathetic grief. "I have killed him r Hilary could do nothing. She seemed tliBtraught, and the Seigneur lay like - fallen tree. His rattling breaths an*. snwttitm to MMeletae, her knees and looked at b***f e0c rt at self-com wantft to Meed him," she imya that , when he was a they used to bl£ed such cases and they got well. He saya It la the only chance." Hilary, feeling helpless, took die lancet from the old servant's fingers and looked at the rusty edge. "I've heard of bleeding In such cases," he said. "Well--perhaps It won't hurt him. But we must boll the instrument Can you get some hot water?" The girl hurried to obey. She left the room and came back with a little alcohol stove and a pan of water. Hilary, having scraped the rust from the blade, watched her In admiration at ber self-possession as she went to and fro, intent upon her task. While the water was boiling the two men managed to get Rosny to bed. When the water was boiled Hilary sterilized the lancet, Robltallle looking on without comprehension. But hla shaking fingers grew firm as he per- Htt ^yes Closed, Hla Arms Drooped Over the Sides; Hla Head Fell on Hla Breast formed the little operation. When It was overhand the arm bandaged a slight Improvement in Rosny's condition seemed already manifest They sat beside him all through the day, while the heavy breathing gradually grew lighter, and the stupor seemed to be passing Into sleep. Toward evening Rosny opened his eyes for a moment and looked about him. 'I should like to stay, if I can be of help," said Hilary. 'I think you had better go, dear, If jrou are strong enough," said Madeleine. "You will be very careful of yourself, and make your friend, Mr. Connell, take care of you? And not go to work In the woods till you art strong?" She put her arms about his neck, "And I love you with all my heart," she whispered, as she kissed him. "The course of true love never runs smooth." fro BE CONTINUED.) STEER HAD EAR FOR MUSIO Animal's Appreciation of Tuneful Sounda Saved It From the^nplr j ; of the Butcher. Music hath charms for animals as well as humans. Cowboys on nightherd frequently raised their voices In song as a means, of quieting the restless cattle. In "Reed Anthony, Cowman," the author Instances a remarkable example of this bovine appreciation of singing. At the time of the Civil war, while Anthony was helping hold cattle for the Confederate army, they received a consignment of beeves from Texas. One of the men who accompanied the herd through called his attention to a steer and vouchsafed the statement that the animal loved music--that he could be lured out of the herd with singing. To prove his asserttlon the man sang what he termed was the steer's favorite, and to the surprise of every soldier present a fine, big, mottled beef walked out from among a thousand others and stood entranced over the simple air. This exhibition made a great Impression on the young fellow. By the $nd of the week Anthony was delighted to find that his own vocal efforts had likewise fascinated the broadhorned Texan. Thereupon he fell so deeply in love with the' steer that he determined to save his life at the rl»k of seeming disloyalty. When the herd was almost exhausted and the musicloving steer would have gone to the shambles on the following day, he secretly cut blm out at night and drove him far to the rear. Within a year, however, the big beef returned with another consignment. Comrades of Anthony's who were not In the secret of the music lover's former visit would not believe him; but when a quartet of the rough army herders sang "Rock of Ages" the broadhorn walked out and greeted them with mute appreciation. This time Anthony enjoyed the steer's company for more than a month, and got so that he could call him with a song as far as his voice would reach. When death again threatened, the herder once more cut the steer to the rear. "Loyal as I was to the South." Anthony said, "I wdRld have deserted rather than see that steer killed." Debt World Is Apt to Forget. The growing good of the world If pertly dependent on unhlstorlc acts: and that things are not so^ll with you and me as they might have been, k half owing to the number who live*! faithfully a hidden life, and rsat is urivisited tombs.--George Eliot blended with the girl's sobs; and there. cintt times and tfcqy aiway « wees fltst Aia. PrewriptiOB.' I have token ft as a apodal woman's tonfe and it was excellent. tfOK several yean I was in very poor health. I had doctored for some time without results and I waa in a miserable state when I decided to write to Dr. Pierce'a Invalids' Hotel, Buffalo^ N. Y., for advice concerning my ailments. "I am rore I owe my good health ot to<uy to Dr. Pierce, and perhaps my lilt, a,n.,,1 c*n®°t wy enough in praise of Ms skill and also his gran a medicines."--Mrs. E. Scovill, 329 Elk St. Galena, 111.--"Some years ago I waa afflicted with catarrh and liver trouble. My blood waa impoverished and an abscess fonr.ed over my liver. I waa in a s e r i o u s c o n d i t i o n when my )iaibini brought roe a bottle of Dr. Pierce'a Golden Medical Discovery , a vial of Pellets and a package ejt Dr. Sage's Catarrh Remedy. My improvement waa noticeable from the very start, byt I took wen bottlea of 'Golden Medical Diecovery' so aa to be cured and restored ftp perfect health. « "My sister also had a most satisfactory experience with the 'piseovery' which she took for an asthmatic condition. Tw# bottles of it absolutely cured her of asthma and for thirt/-five years afterwards die continued praising 'Golden Medical Discovery' and recommending it to persons afflicted with asthma or bronchial affe<*> tions."--Mrs. Hattie Moore, 518 Dew# Ave. INDIGESTION Caused by Millions of people--la (aet about 9 out 10--auffar mora or l«aa from tndtgest acuta or chronle. Nearly avary ease caused by Acid Wowwib. Thara are other atomaoh disorders vkM alao are aura stsna of AcUUftoaiiijh--belohbur, heartburn, bloat after a at lac, food paatlns, sour, gaasy stomach. There are many aUmants which, while they do aet cauaa much dlatraaa In tha atqmaeh Itael& are, neverthalaaa, traceable to an acMstomach. Amove these are narvouanae* btllouaneas, olrrhoala of tha liver, itnuaatiem. Impoverished blood, waakness, lBiom* nla, melancholia and a lone train of phy»> leal sad mental mlaeriaa that keep the victims In miserable health year after year. Tha rlrht thine to do Is to attack thaee ailments at thalr source---get rid af MM SIL> auteh. A wonderful modern remedy called •ATONIC now makee It eaay to do this. One of hundreds of thousands of gratefsl users of BATONIC writes: "I have been troubled with Intestinal Indigestion for |bn| nine years and have spent quite a asm tot medicine, but without relief. After BATONIC for a tew daya the a as and in my bowels disappeared. KATONIC the remedy 1 needed." We have thousands ef letters telllns of these marvelous benefits. Try EATONIC aaA you, too, will be Just as enthusiastic la tte praise. Tour druffflst has nATONIC. Oct a M( 10c box from him today. He will refuM your money If you are not aatlafled um ice us*a« a patas ia j eat • i' PATONIC Mlaaing Something. "Anybody around here who might buy a little stock?" asked the flasjiy stranger. "It's luck you ennta to me first,* «j|ff Squire Wltherbee. • ^ "How's that, sir?" "Everybody around here has bought little stock except me. Thafs why Fm giving you a chance to catch the next train out of town instead of calling my boys together and sending a rush order for a bucket of tar, a sadjt of featjiers and a good, stout rail."-- Birmingham Age-Herald. 1 4 •GRUMPY? ft Constipated, BUIoui'gt Headachy, take "Caacarets" Brain foggy? Blue devils got you? Don't stay sick, bilious, headachy, constipated. Remove the liver and bowal poison which Is keeping your head dizzy, your tongue coated, your breath bad and stomach sour. Why not spend a few tents for a box of Cascarets and enjoy the nicest, gentlest laxatlve-cnthartlc you ever experienced? C5a§» carets never gripe, sicken or Inconvenience one like Salts, Oil, Calomel 6T harsh Pills. The; work w&U* Jftsleep.-- Adr. * • * v ' A Secret. ' - '4- -Why, yea." said Miss Pertle Goodwin to her Intimate friend. "Harry and I are going to have a secret wadding. Not a soul Is going to know of It till lfa over. Haven't y_o u heard!" • A man Is never quite sure whethpr a woman is sorry or glad when aha cries. m FIND THE CAUSE I It isn't right to drag along feeling miserable--hulf sick. Find out what » making you feel so badly and try to correct it. Perhaps your kidneys are causing that throbbing backache or those sharp, stabbing pains. You mat have morning lameness, to6. headaches, dizzy spells and irregular kidney action. Use Doan'a Kidney Pill*. They have helped thousands e( ailing folks. Ask your neighbor! An Dlinoia Caae Mrs. H. L. Dew. 106 Chestnut St* Wiukegin, III., L V S: "My b a c k acned and at times s h a r p t w i n g e s would catch me la a l l p a r t s o f my body. My feet ana ankles would become swollen and my kidneys didn't act aa they should. I read such good acc o u n t s a b o u t D o a n ' s K i d n e y Pills that I bought some at Warren's North Side Pharmacy. In a short time I began to feel better and of late I have had no further trouble with mj kidneys." Gat Diaafti st Aajr Starat 60s a Bsa DOAN'S POSTER-MOBURN CO. BUFFALO. M.&