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Br y CyrusTownsend Y Y Bbady ILLU6T8AT/0M<5 PY ftA/v/fifo*? tiirrHHmmrtr mcHtr/iAff cemuemrm CATAT annua 8YNOP3IS. A young woman oast ashore, on ,a lone­ ly Island, finds a, solitary inhabitant. a young white man, dressed like a savage &nu unable to sn«»ak in any known lan­ guage. She decides "to educate liim and Jpold his mind to her own ideals. She finds evidence that leads her to believe that the man ia John Revell Charnock of Virginia, and that he was cast ashore when a child. Katharine Brenton was a highly specialized' product of a leading university. Her writings on the aex prob­ lem attracted wide attention. The son of a multi-millionaire becomes infatuated with h^r and they decide to put her the­ ories into practice. A few days on his yacht reveals to her that he onjy pro­ fessed lofty ideals to possess her While drunk he attempts tp kiss her. She knocks him down and leaves him uncon­ scious and escapes in the darkness in a gasoline launch. TXir'.ng a storm she is? cast ashore on ar« Island. Three years' teaching gives the man a splerulid educa­ tion. Their love for each other » revealed when he rescues her from a care where she had been imprisoned by an earth­ quake-. A ship is sighted and they light a beacon to summon it. Langford on his yacht, sights the bi-aorw and orders his yacht put in. The woman recognise* the yacht and tells her companion that a man on board had injured her in the greatest way. Langford recognizes Katharine. He tells the man that she had been his mis­ tress and narrowly escapes being killed. An American cruiser appears. Officers near the whole story and Langford asks Katharir.s to marry him. Katharine de­ clares that she will marry no one but her Island companion. The latter says he still loves her nut that the revelations have made a change. lations /' § CHAPTER XVIII.--Continued. "la the present Charnock married?" "No," returned the chaplain. "he is an old bachelor." "That will make it easier for our friend here," said Mr. Whittaker, "pro­ vided the evident^ i^ thought convinc­ ing." "'The best evidence that he could pre­ sent," returned the chaplain, iS^in his (ace. He is the living image of his father as I knew him, and he has fam­ ily characteristics which I think would enable almost anyone to identify him without question." "Sir," said the islander, addressing the chaplain, "did -you know my mother?" , / "That I did," returned the old man. "Her name was Mary Page Thornton, and she was one of the sweetest girls in Virginia." "And will you tell me about her, and about my father and my people?" "With the greatest pleasure," said the chaplain, kindly. "Meanwhile Capt. Ashby and these gentlemen will wish to hear your story." \ "Take him to your cabin,'} said the captain promptly, "and teH him the things he wants to know. We can wait." "No," retorted the Islander; "J can wait. I have waited all these years and a few hours more or less will make little difference. You have a. right to know my story, and here it 1B." Rapidly, concisely, with a fine dra­ matic touch, he told the story as he knew It of his life on the island. He was so Entirely unconventional * that he Interwove the bare details' of the strange relation which he gave them with personal- touches. He made no secret of his love and worship for the girl, of the belief in her which he had cherished, of the reverence in which he had held her. He exhibited that strange commixture of feeling with which he regarded her as a human woman and as a demi-goddess. He showed that he was at once her mas­ ter and her creature, yet through it all there ran such a thread of bitterness, of grief, of resentment, of shame, that his auditors, at first unpossessed of the key to his feelings, listened to him ^ith amazement and could scarcely realize or comprehend. He toid the story of the two lives up to the sight­ ing of the ship upon4$he island, and then, his heart failingVilm, he turned to Whittaker and bade him take up the relation. It was a delicate matter of which to speak, but the simplicity with which the first part of the tale had been pre­ sented gave the officer his cue. He was a man of retentive memory, of quick apprehensive power, and with a nice sense of discrimination, a rare man, indeed. And he told the rest of the tale with a subtle sympathy. for the situation and the actor* that en­ abled him so to present it to the inter­ ested litttle group of officers that he almost made them see it as it trans­ pired. "Afid what," asked the captain, when the final word bftd been said, "do you propose to do now, Mr. ChnrnocH?" It was the first time ttlaf he bad been so addressed and the man start­ ed. He had heard Mr. Whlttaker's words as one in a dream. He had been going over that dreadful pcene on the sands. His heart was lacerated and torn again. He was blind to every­ thing but the past. He saw he* face dimly in the present. He could see nothing of happiness In the future. "I don't know." he answered. "But surely this has not made any difference in your feelings?" "I can't tell. The difference is in her, not in me/' "She made a frightful mistake," said the captain. Impressively, "but she has nobly atoned, and--" "She's not what I thought she was," said the man, "and if I love her, 1 love her now not becaus^.'Hit in spite, of what she is, and there is a difference." "Miss Brenton," interposed Whitta­ ker at this juncture, "has settled the matter herself. She sazs that she will uave no man's pfty, no man's con­ tempt. that no man shall marry her oa suffrance, and that--" "Right," said the surgeon, who was a man of very few wcrds and general­ ly good ones. "My young friend," broke \ In the chaplain, "if I might advise--" "But this," returned the islander, wtth fierceness, "is not a matter for advice. 1 don't know the world or its customs. I must appear strange to you men. But I take it that a man's <$oice of a wife, a man's settlement of his future Is not a thing that he brooks counsel over. At aay rate, I want none of it" "Come with me," said the chapl "we will talk • it over. I have lived in the world," he went on, gently. "Perhaps I can help you. Have we your permission to withdraw, Capt Ashby?"1 * (g> "Certainly," said th^\capta1n. "Pardon me m momeirt, chaptattf?* interposed Whittaker; "but the young lady has asked that some of us go ashore to take her deposition as to concerning our friend here. Capt. Ashby. will you?" / "Certainly, Mr. Whittaker, I will go. And if you will accompany me, doctor, and you, chaplain, I shall be glad. Mr. Whittaker, you are a notary public and can administer the necessary oaths." "Very good, sir." returned Mr. Whit­ taker. The other gentlemen bowed their acquiescence. "The lady .said she would like to be undisturbed until evening." "At two bells in the second dog watch then have the cutter called away," returned the captain. "Beg pardon, captain," said the sur- geon, "but do you or any of you know this lady to be Miss Brenton?" "No," said the captain, "I don't know her. Do you, Mr. Whittaker, or you, chaplain?" "Well, then," said the surgeon, as both the officers shook their heads, "it will be necessary to h^ve some one ashore who dbes know her in order to swear to h^r identity to make her deposition worth anything." "There is Langford," said Whitta­ ker, :!he kpows her." ^ "Very good," said the Captain; "send a boat over to the yacht and present my compliments to Mr. Langford. As^ him if he will meet us ashore at quar­ ter after five o'clock. Say to him also that I should be glad to have him dine with me to-night at seven. Chaplin, will you and Mr, Charnock take lunch­ eon with me later?" ^ NOw, to go back to the island. The woman stood on the strand proudly, resolutely, sternly erect, without a sign of unbending until the boats reached the sides of the two Bhips. Even then she kept herself in the bonds of a control of steel. She turned slowly, walked up the beach, entered the grove of palms, mechanically found the path and plodded along it, still erect and unbending? until the wind­ ings of the trail and the thickening Of the grove hid her from any chance watchers on the ship. Then, and not until then, did she give way completely. She threw her­ self down upon the sand in the cool shadow of the great rocks in what to her had suddenly become a weary land. an^ outstretched her arms as if to-clasp the earth to her breast in de­ fault of the man she had dreamed of and trusted, she had loved and lived fon knd lay there a silent, shuddering, wretched figure. Her crushing disappointment at his failure to rise to the measure of her ideal of him, the total end of her dream of happiness, tlie breaking of all her hopes, the closing of all her ambitions, the tearing 4sunder of her heartstrings whelmed her in agony. She had thought that never could hu­ manity experience more than the pain superinduced by the horror of her po­ sition upon the ship, but that pain to the present was like a caress. For to all that old horror was added a new sense of loss, of dlsappoinment and despair. Like Elijah of iold, dismayed, disheartened, broken, she prayed that she might die there on tS^e Bands. CHAPTER XlX. The Man's Failure. At five o'clock a boat put off from the big white cruiser, conyeying the Islander, the captain, ttie other officers and Langford to the shore. The woman met them on the sand. She had dis­ carded her woven tunic and was dressed in the faded blue blouse and skirt which she had worn when- she had left the yacht and which she had ever since preserved with such scru­ pulous care for an emergency like this. Well was it for her that the garments were loose and easy-fitting, else she could not have put them on, so splen­ didly had she developed in waist and chest and limb. She wore stockings and shoes, and, save for a certain na? tural elegance and freedom In her bearing, she looked much as any other Woman, except that few~*omen Were as beautiful as she. After a momentary hesitation and a glatfce at the islander, who, after his first swift, comprehending survey of the woman, stood with averted head-- she, conscious painfully dt his every gesture and movement--the lieuten­ ant eomamnder"perforn^ed the neces­ sary introductions. This ^ceremony over, it was the woman who spoke. "I sent for you, gentlemen," she be­ gan, "in order that a necessary deposi­ tion might be made to enable, if possi­ ble, my"--she paused and bowed for­ mally toward the islander--"this gen­ tleman, to establish his Identity, upon which, as I learn from Mr. Whittaker, much seems to depend. I have here--" "But could you not do this more con­ veniently later on the ship. Miss Bren­ ton?" interposed the captain. He had been told that she intended to stay on the island, but he could not believe it. "We shall be very glad Indeed to offer you passage borne. The ship is fitted for a flag and the admiral's quarters are yours to command. We are sailing direct to th> United States, with a stop at Honolulu, and willebe glad to re­ store you to yonr friends." "Sir,", said the woman. *lf have no friends who care enough about mo to welcome me or whom I care enough about to wish to see. My mind Is made up. I shall stay on the Island, at least tor the present." "But, my dear young lady," began the officer. "Capt. Ashby." said the woman, "you are the commander of tfiat^hlpT" "I am." "To you is committed the ordering of her course?" "To me alone. Miss Brenton." "You decide all questions connected* with her on your own responsibility^ ;••• "I do, certainly; but--" "Sir, this is joy ship, this island- It I choose to stay here, I cannot think you will endeavor to take me hence by force." . ^ "By no means." * "Nor jtave I any more fondness for having my decisions discussed thffll you wpulu for hearing youf orders argufed or questioned." "It Is my island," cried the man, roughly, "and if you stay, I stay." "We lose time," said the womas^ the matters that have been alleged^ =shdttly. "I arti here to give my testi­ mony; you are prepared to ta^e'lt?" "I am," said the lieutenant-cqm> mander, stepping forward, notebook In hand. "Captain, will you conduct the neces­ sary inquiry?" "Certainly," said the captain. "Mr. Langford, do you Identify this lady?" "I do. sir," answered Langford. "She is Miss Katherine Brenton of San Francisco." "You say this of your own personal knowledge?" "Yes, sir." "You will make affidavit to that fajst?" "With pleasure." "I wondered," said the woman, bit­ terly, "why you came back." "It was at my wish, madam," re­ turned Capt Ashby, formally. He was not greatly prepossessed* with the imperative manned and de­ meanor of this young woman, but he did not see exactly how ho could re­ sent it, or force any improvement in It. "Will you proceed now with your story," he continued. "Will you speak slowly so that Mr. Whittaker, who does not write shorthand, can taks it down ?" Thereupon the woman'told that por­ tion of her tale which pela-ted to the' evidence which > she exhibited, the piece of the boat wtth the name of the hi* bark toward the party, "but this thing has to be settled. Now," said the woman, "here Is no question of honor, bu t of k love. I ask you. Man, do you Joje me as you did last night?" "I-*-" ho began, faHJerlugly. "You have ucvcr told ins a lie," she continued. "You have never known ^anything but the truth," "Until I learned from you," cried the man, "what you had concealed." Tba woman smiled bitterly, waving aside thig cruel stab. -^Tell me1 the truth. Do you love me as yeu^rtd last night?" "If you will have It, no," said the man, rushing to his doom. Meta have taken a bullet in the breast, a shot in the heart, and for a moment have maintained their erect position. The woman knew in that moment how such things could be. "But I love you still," said the man. "And I still want you for my wife." "Last night." went on the woman, as if In a dream, "I seemed to you tlTe embodiment of every excellence that humanity can possess short of the divine." "Yes," said the man, "I loved you as--" "Do I still possess those qualities in your eyes?" f He hesitated. He strove to speak. "The truth! The truth!" whispered thi woman. "Nothing else, so help you God!" "No," said the man, "but I love you stili, and you ought to marry me, you must. Can't you understand?" "Listen." said the woman, fiercely. "I did not go to that man yonder, al­ though he offered me everything that hodtor could dictate and that true af­ fection could suggest, I do believe, be­ cause I did not love him, although I have since come to respect him. after I have thought It over. It is not duty, m T tjii6 IVi-wt' C > ship upon It. the dog collaiv^hq silver bo*, the Bihle, the two rings: These weflfe marked, set down and sworn to. The affidavit to which she subscribed^ her name, and to which she took oath on the very Bible of the island, was brief, though comprehensive, and the little ceremony was soon over. Mr. Whittaker assumed charge of all the exhibits. The tale having been com­ peted and all the little formalities got through with, the little party stood around in awkward silence wondering what was next to come. "Miss Brenton," said the captain at last, breaking,the pause, "it seems a shame. For God's sake* ^econsidey your decision and come off to th£ ship!" J "No," returned the woman, quietly ; "my mind is made up." "^Katharine!" exclaimed Langford, extending bis hand in one final ap­ peal. "Not wtth you, either," said the Woman. "My dear ydung lady," began the old chaplain, "think what it is you do. HaS any humfui being with tuch pow­ ers as you possess a right to bury her­ self in this lonely island? Is there no call--?" , j "Sir," the woman Interposed, "your plea might move me if anything could, but indeed 'tis useless as the rest." "Hear mine, then," said the man, abruptly, even harshly. The woni^ji turned and faced him ac unrelenting and as determined as she had faced the others. What could be say? There was but one plea that could move her. wis he about to make that? "Ws have loved each otiier," he went on, brokenly. "It was my dear- oet WIHII, my most settled determina­ tion, 4r. makw you,my wife. That wish I still tailt»rtaln, that determination bun n»" departed from me. You have reftu .« to marry that, nUn--" "And would you liave me do s{>?" asked the woman. "Np, a th<HJ»nnd times, no. i "Mm sotrrtpr every moment that I. look at him that ! did not kill hlmf. But.hav- ing refused him, there is nothing now thai you can. do but Inarry me. And as you have refused him, it makes it the more Incumbent upon me to ™ arry you and to take you away. Your honor demands it." "My honor!".Hamed out'the womaa Indignantly, v v have said it/* returned the man, doggedly. ' „ j "Gentlemen, yeu will forgive our frankness," said the woman, turning to the little group who waited, all 'ex­ cept Langford, who had walked away out ot earshot and who resolutely kept Resolutely Set Herself to Wads Into the Deeper Sea. but love, which is the compelling mo­ tive fn this matter. And 1 won't take you; I would not take an angel from heaven unless he thought me In ev­ ery particular all that a woman should be to a man, unless he loved me with his whole heart and soul ab­ solutely, unfeignedly, completely. You don't. I don't even think that I love you riow. You have been tried and ' tested, and you have failed. Gentle- uieu, will you take him away?" "I stay here," said the man, blunt­ ly, drawing apart from the others, "and I will kill with my own hands the man who lays a finger upon me." "Sir," said the captain, "this land, 1 take It, fa the United States. As the ranking officer present, I represent Its law. 'it is under my rule. As to your choice, I have nothing to Bay, but as far as regards other things, you will have <o obey me here as any other citizen of our country." "And I know nothing of the United States or Its laws," answered the man, proudly. "I am a law unto myself." "The first lesson that the worl£ will teach you, sir," returned the cap­ tain, pointedly, "is that that position cannot be maintained; that the whole fabric of civilization depends upon concession by individuals of natural rights and upon the enforcement of these concessions by other individuals to whom has been delegated that power." A "I don't wish to learn it, and that is why I will not leave this island," per­ sisted the man. c It was the woman who intervened. She stepped close to the man and laid her hand upon his arm. "You said that In some fashion you loved ,me," she urged. '^In some fashion I do," he replied. "It grows late. Captain, can your ship lie by the island until morning?" "If you wish, certainly," returned the captain. "Very well. Man, will you then go aboard the ship with these gentlemen and leave me alone here for the night?" "Alone, madam!" ekcaimed the cap­ tain. , . -"V" "Certainly, sir." returned the wom­ an. "There is not a harmful thing upon the island. You can come back in the morning and we will discuss then what is best to be done. Really, gentlemen," she went" on, with a pite­ ous tremble of her lip, for one mo­ ment losing her control, "I have been tried beyond the strength of woman to-day. If I can have a quiet rest, if in the morning--" "That is reasonable." said the sur­ geon. "The lady is in no state for this d'scussion. nor, indeed are you, sir." he continued, looking hard at the man. "Very well," said the captain. "Come, Mr. Charnock, you cannot refuse {hat request; gentlemen. Madam, good night." He turned away, followed by the others. Charnock for the moment hes ltated. "I give you one more chance." whis­ pered the woman In his ear. "I think myself fit for the wife of any man, do you think so? Do you love me? Do you care for me as you did last night? Can you think of me as all that is sweet and lovely and noble and pure, and worthy of any man's affection?" She bent closer toward him in the intensity of her feelings. The words ruBhed from her. The man passed his hand over his forehead. "I can only say what I said before, that I love you still, that I will marry you, and that you ought to be--" 'That is enough," interrupted- the woman. "Gt>od-by." She drew instantly apart from him. "Mr. Charnock," rang the captain's voice, imperatively. Slowly the Islander turned and made his way to the sea after the others. The woman, thus left alone upon the inland, was face to face with a crisis which could only be met In two ways. Either she must go away with the man, or they must both remain on the island. It was possible that the captain might be induced to use force to take the man away, but that was not likely, and If it were attempted, she believed, with much foundation for her belief, that the man who had never been coerced by a human being except h^r vfrould fight until he died. She could not go away with him; she could not live with him on the island. A future opened before -him. She had learned that afternoon on the sand that if bis identity could be estab­ lished he would be a man of great wealth, a power, a factor in the world's affairs. She had had her ex­ perience in life, her taste of power. It did not matter about her. It mattered greatly about him. She had given him a final chance. He did .not love her as she would be loved. He could not love her. It was evident to her that he never would. She had nothing to live for, nothing to hope for, nothing to dream about. There was on^ way of cutting the Gordian knot; she could die. And yet, somehow, the instinct of Hfe was strong in her heart. She crossed the Island to ner side, where she was hidden from the ship, and went down to the edge of the wa­ ter. She even slipped off the garments of civilization and stood forth a primi­ tive Eve and waded out a little way Into the lagoon. The night had fallen and she was calm in the screen of the darkness. She could easily swim out to the barrier reef, clamber upon it, and then plunge Into the blue Pacific and swim on and on, and fight and fight until the last vestige of her strength was gone, and then sink down, leaving him free and settling the question. And yet the waters lap­ ping about her feet held her back, drove her back, retarded her In her advance. Could she do it? Should she do it? At least she would not give up the Idea for want of trying She resolute­ ly set herself to wade Into the deep­ er sea. That she waded was evi­ dence of her indecision. Under other circumstances, or had she been clear in har mind as to her course, a quick run, u spring, a splash, and she would have been in the midst of the lagoon. She Vent slowly, and as the water Tint grew deeper, she went more slowly. It was warm and pleasant in the la­ goon. The slight ISifference of tem­ perature between the water and the air ordinarily was only stimulating. And yet the sea had never seemed so cold to her as it was in that hour. By ann by she stopped, the wa~ ters now up to her breast. The wind blew gently toward the land, and the waves si ruck her softiy and beat her back. She stopped dead still and thought and thought, wrestling with her problem, full of passionate disap­ pointment, vain regret, despair, con­ scious that life held nothing for her. and yet clinging to It. unknowing what would be the outcome of the Titanic struggle raging in her breast between primal passions, love of life and love of man! CHAPTER XX. The Repentance That Came Too Late. For the first time in hie Hfe th^tnan of the islan^ played the coward. He was afraid to be alone. The others, the officers of the ship, that Is, not Langford--he had gone back to his own yacht, declining the captain's In­ vitation to dinner--would have re­ spected the islander's mood and have left him to himself, but it was evi­ dent that he craved their society. Whittaker and the old chaplain sus­ pected how it would be with him, but they knew that sooner or later he would have to retire to rest, and soon- ei; or later he w^uld be alone. And then his £rlef was so obvious, that in accordance with a natural and commendable tendency they strove to cheer him up.# They encouraged him to ask questions. They told him many things in reply that the woman could not have told him; that he had half dimly suspected, but had not known. They cleared up to him many things Which had seemed mysterious and strange to him. And on their part they marveled at the things he did know, at the thor­ oughness with which he had been taught, and at the wonderful acute- ness of perception which he displayed. The woman had marveled at it. too, but she had become used to it in three years of intimacy. They saw it Im­ mediately with greater surprise. A spare cabin in the wardroom had been arranged for the islander, and there provided with the unwonted lux­ ury of night wear after a hearty "Good-night" from the lieutenant com­ mander and a fervent "God bless you" from the old chaplain, he was left to his own devices. The strangeness of his situation, the soft bed, the snowy linen, the silk pajamas, the con­ fining area of the cabin, the sudden I touch with luxuries of civilization would In Itself have kept him awake had he been as heart whole and as care free as when the woman had landed upon the island. But, indeed, the strangeness of these things aroused no emotions In his mind at all. for the moment he was alone his thoughts, which he had been fighting desperately to keep upon other things, reverted to her. What was she doing for the first time alone upon that is­ land? What was she thinking? He realized that no more than he could she be Bleeping. Unflinchingly he reviewed with what calmness he could musteT the scenes of the morning and the day. He forced himself to consider In all its lights and bearings the informa­ tion that had been given to him. He tortured himself by the deliberate slow recalling of every detail, and then, quivering as if under the stimu­ lus of some blow upon a raw wound, he reviewed his own conduct. Enlight­ enment came to him In that dark and silent hour. He discovered first of all that he loved her; that the check and counter-check and variation and alter­ ation in his emotions had been swept away in a great development of a more transcending feeling. If she should ask him that question on the morrow as to whether he loved her as he had on that never-to-be-forgot­ ten night, he would still answer no. because he loved her more. dp BK CONTINUED.) W. WHY HE WAS BEING WATCHED Detective 's Explanation Something of a Slur on the Quaint Old Dutch City. During a period of political agitation a stranger arrived In Magdeburg, where, on applying to th«« authorities, he obtained a permit or ticket of resi­ dence. «r--badLflot £een long In the town befqte h^ffecame a^are that his ateps were belag dogged by a man In blue uniform ' He bore it for days, but at last said to the spy: "Sir. do you wish to drive me mad? Why do you pursue me in this way? 1 am a detective, and my instructions are not to lose sight of you." was the quiet answer. "Why. what fault have the police to find with me?" shoqted the stranger In the greatest excitement; my passport is in order, here Is mi ticket of residence; 1 am a citizen of Berlin; why do yoti follow me about?" "it states iu your passport," was the rjpply, "that you were going to reside here for pleasure; that looks suspi­ cious. as it Is the first time anyone came to reside in Magdeburg for pleas­ ure." English Boys Want Easy Jobs. Among English boys the long drudg­ ery of learning a trade (even if the opportunity offers, which it sel­ dom does) is shirked. The easy job of errand boy. shop boy, office boy, messenger boy, or van boy is much preferred. The consequence is that 75 boys in every 100 leaving the ele­ mentary schools enter unskilled occu­ pations. Of London boys 40 per cent become errand, van or boat boys, 14 per cent, shop boys, 8 per cent, of­ fice boys and junior clerks. Un­ der 20 per cent, go deftnltety Into trades.--Westminster Review. i Oh, That There Were Others. They knew that she lived abroad for a couple of years, they said. Why did she never speak of It? "I used to once in awhile," she an swered, "but not any more after I met the two Brooklyn girls who had traveled all ov«r the world. They cured me. It was 'When I was la China,* or 'When I was in Japan,' o* When I went through the Black fot est,' or 'When I took a sail down th« Red sea,' until they just about bored me to death. 1 said to myself thea that I would ever alter spare Mf 1 friends, and I have kept mw< w»i* A BAD THING TO NEQLECT. Pon't neglect the kidneys when /ott notice lack of control over the secra* tlons. Passages become too frequest or scanty; urine is discolored and sedi­ ment appears. No medicine for such troubles like Doan*s Kidney Pills. Th«F quickly remove kid> ney disorders. Mrs. A. E. Pulton. 311 Skidmore St* Portland, Ore., says: My limbs swelled terribly and I waa bloated over tha stomach and had puffy spots beneath the eyes. My kidneya were very unhealthy and the secre­ tions much disordered. The dropsical Bwellings began to abate after I began using Doan's Kidney Pills and soon I yog cured." Remember the name--Doan's. For sale by all dealers. 50 cents a box. FoBter-Milburn Co.. Buffalo, N. 1^ DOING THE THING RIGHT. Mr. Parvenue--Going to church thif morning? Mrs. Parvenue--No, I've got a head­ ache. Mr. Parvenue--Then call the butlef and send him. The family should bcl represented. It Is a jrflstakt Many have theMdea that anything will sell if advertised strong enough. This Is a great mistake. True, a few sales might be made by advertto- in»t an absolutely worthless article but it is only the article that is bought again and again that pays. An ex> ample of the big success of a worthy article Is the enormous sale that htm grown up for C as carets Candy Cathar* tic. This wonderful record is the result of great merit successfully made knowm through persistent advertising auu £*» mouth-to-mouth recommendation give* Cascarets by Its friends and users. Like all great successes, trade rates prey on the unsuspecting publi% by marketing fake tablets similar til appearance to Carcarets. Care should always be exercised in purchasing weB advertised goods, especially an article that has a national sale, like CaacMfr ets. Do not allow a substitute to • palmed off on you. The Lost Chorda. ! The village concert was to be • great affair. They had the singer*' they had the program sellers, they had the doorkeepers and they would doubtless have the audience. All thajr needed was the piano, but that they lacked. Nor could they procure one anywhere. At last the village organist learned that one was possessed by Farmer Hayseed, who lived "at the top o* the *111." Forthwith he set out with tw* men and a van. "Take It, an' welcome." said Hajj» seed cordially "I've no objectioae s'long as ye put 'Pyenner by Hayseed* on the program." They carted It away. "An' I wish 'em joy of It,** mur­ mured Mrs. Hayseed, as the vandiaap* ' peared from sight. "Wish 'em joy of It," repeated Hay* seed. "What d'ye mean7** "Well, I mean I only *ope theyU find all the notes they want," replied the good woman. " 'Cos, ye Bee, when I wanted a bit o' wire 1 alius went to the old planner for It.** * *> ̂ The Mieer of tag Harbor. "Economy," said Daniel W. FleML the millionaire shoe manufacturer of Boston, who at the age of forty-five has entered Harvard, "economy Is e»> sentlal to wealth, but by economy 1 don't mean niggardliness. "Too many men fail to attain to wealth because tftey practise a cheeseparing and mean economy thf* gets everybody down on them. "They practise, in fact, an economy, likfe that of old William Brewster of Sag Harbor. William, you know, would never buy oysters because he couldnt eat shells and k'1** •?4 Hereditary Power. Hoax--Poor did Henpeck has to mind the baby. Joax--Yes, it's wonderful how that baby takes after Its mother. Delightful Desserts and many other pleasing dishes can be made with Post Toasties A crisp, wholesome food-- always ready to serve. With fruits or berries it is delicious. •The Memory U*S*»M A little book--"Good Thlags little with tells how. SsM «r Grace**--ftga * rOSTUM CEREAL. CO.. LTXX Battle Creek. Mich. •1- •M <•;