J 1A fir CYDUS Townsend y y B»ABY ILLUSTBA770HSWfa/̂ p*t jwmmmtarwiaimm cmmarrmtoivvn** U / U TrriiA i ION 8YN0PSI8. A young woman cut ashore on a lone ly Island, finds a solitary Inhabitant, a young white man, dressed like a savage and uRsbir in speak Sn any known lan guage. She decides to educate him and mold his mind to her own Ideals, She finds evidence that leads her to believe that the man is 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 sex prob lem attracted wide attention. The soa of a inuiii-miiiionaire becomes infatuated with her and they decide to put her the ories Into practice. A few days on nts yacht reveals to her that he only pro fessed lofty ideals to possess her. While drunk he attempts to kiss her. 8he knocks him down and leaves him uncon scious and escapes in the darkness in a gasoline launch. During a utortn she is cast ashore on an island. Three years' teaching gives the man a splendid educa tion. Their love ior each other Is revealed whtn he rescues her from a cave where she had been imprisoned by an earth quake. A ship is sftrhted s»ifi they light a beacon to summon It. Longford on his yacht, sights the beacon and orders his yacht put in. The woman recognizes 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 hear the whole story and Langford asks Katharine to marry him. Katharine de clares that she will marry no one but her island companion. The latter says he still loves her but that the revelations have made a change. ^Catharine declares her in tention of remaining alone on the island, saying Charnock had failed when the test came* Repentance comes to Charnock aft er a night of bitter reflection. He swims ashore from the cruiser to ask forgive ness and is found unconscious beside Katharine's clothes, by the officers. Kath arine 1b given up for dead. cause I am a man, and love you, I want you. I want to make you happy. And I am the one man in the world that ought to want you and want to make you happy. It is for that I have come back to you." "How terrible are the arrangements of blind fate," said the woman. "I must believe what you say. You awaken my pity, my tenderness, ihy consideration, but these are all. He is not by to hear and therefore I will say, for you deserve the truth, that just as you say you love me, nay, then, just as you do and more a thousand times, I love that man. It would be a crime, a sin, a bodily profanation, a m'ental If I got "back and found that h« is dead and come here--" "Don't come back," said the £r<aaan. "Don't tell anyone that I am here. Let no one ever come back unless the promptings of his heart and the lead- tag of God should bring him to me." "Is this your final, absolute de- cisios?" "My final and absolute decision. Nothing can alter it, nothing, abso lutely nothing." "O Kate!r! "Don't," said the womaa. "It is use less and only breaks your heart and wrings mine. Now, you must go. No one has seen you from the yacht. and spiritual degradation to which the j This cave is sheltered from where she other"--he knew to what she alluded < «es. No one need know that you have as she paused--"were nothing, if 1 j found me. Indeed I want you to give ' me your word cf honor, to swear it by all that you hold CHAPTER XXIJ.--Continued. "Yes," she answered. "Thank God!-' cried the man. "We thought you dead. We searched the island. Where had you bidden? Why have you done it?" She rose slowly to her feet and con fronted him. "You!" she said bitterly. "Why have you come back?" "I don't know," answered Langford. "I can't tell what moved me. I was here on the island with the others. I searched with the rest. I know that no foot of it was left unvisited. Every crag and cranny, every thicket and coppice, every tree, every cave and rift in the rocks was examined over and over again. We knew that you were gone and yet I could not believe it. Yesterday afternoon I parted from the cruiser. I did not bear away for this '•aland until it was too dark and they were too far away to see what I would be about, and then I came back here at full speed." "Why did you come?" **I don t know. I was not satisned. It seemed to me that I must come back and search again. I could not believe it possible that you were dead, really dead. Something in my heart, at any rate, brought me back once more to see the place where you had lived if no more than that. We made the island early in the morning. The yacht lies yonder. I came ashore a moment since and some kind Provi dence led me first of all to this spot. I entered the cave. I saw you lying there in the cool darkness. I thought you dead at first. Then I cried to you and you moved. And then I touched your hand. O Kate, thank God I have found you!" "Where is he!" said the woman. "Why didn't he come back?" It was a cruel thing to say, but she could no more have helped it than she could have helped her breathing. Not to have said it would have killed her, for if Langford's love could turn him back, what should be said then of Charnock's. Langford was pale and haggard. He, too, had suffered. He was paying for his sins. He was ex piating them and feeling it, although the expiation was not helping her. "What of him?" she asked Insist ently. "What matters about him?" he said bitterly. "He had his chance. He failed to grasp it. He's gone." The man did not tell her that Char nock had been carried' away a sense less log. bereft of power to think or speak, or move, or feel, by the shock of her departure. "Once," said the woman, "you had your chance in the cabin of that very yacht out yonder and you failed to grasp it and we separated." "Yes," said the man, "I know that. I realize that now, and I came back. I have come back to take my chance again." "And so be may come back," said the woman. "You sank lower than he." "And I rose higher the other day upon the sand." "You did, but not high enough. I be-v lieve in him. He will realize it, too," she went on, all the confidence of her hopes springing into life again and giving force and power to her voice and bearing. "And you condemn me for that one mistake?" said the man. "No," returned the woman, "neither will I condemn him for that one mis- take." "But he's gone, I tell you." "And he will come back, I know." "He thinks you dead." "So did you." "But 1 came back, not he." "You were your own master," said the woman swiftly. "You could go where, you pleased. He was subject to the decision of others. I trust him still." "And you don't trust me?" "I trust you enough, but I don't love you." "O Kate, think! There must he .something in what 1 feel for you to move you. I did not know what it •was. I did not realize it I came ?back in the first place as much be- ,cause I had been a blackguard and a ^coward and wanted to set"myself right •in your eyes as because I cared for -you, but every hour of search made .me know my own heart, and since 1 (have seen you, since I see you now, -there is nothing I would not do for you. There isn't any expiation or amends" nt or anything BOW, but should come to you with my whole heart and soul given to the man," she threw her hand out in a great sweep ing gesture, "yonder out at sea." "But he doesn't lore you." "O r«a. he does* Not as I would be loved, I admit, not as. please God, I shall be loved by him. He doesn't know; he doesn't understand. Wis dom will come to him and he will come back." "It might be sp," said the man. "I came back. But he believes you dead." "And didn't yon when you searched for me during those three years?" "No," answered Langford, "I had a confident hope that somewhere you were alive." "And wilt he not have that hope, too?" "I cannot believe it.* There was a long, frightful pause. The woman sighed deeply. "It may be as you say. It may be that we are separated forever. It may be that I shall never look upon him again, nor he upon me, but that makes no difference. I do not love you. I cannot love you. If he is dead, I shall love his memory until I meet him. if so be I may be found worthy of that, and I will keep myself for him. No other man shall have what belongs to him." They had stepped nearer the en trance of the cave, which was a spa cious one, as they spoke. The beauty of the woman in that soft light was so intense that it cast over Langford a spell. He heard the sound of her voice, but did not heed what she said. Suddenly he caught her in his arms. "Kate," he cried, "we are alone here and I am master. That is my ship yonder. I can have you bound hand and foot and take you aboard of her. 1 will say that you are mad, that I am taking you back to the United States to your friends. You must come back with me. I can't let you go." "Valentine," said the woman, quiet ly, "if you do net instantly release me, I will kill you where you stand. You don't realize how strong I am. See!" With a quick, sudden movement she caught his arms with her free .hands, and literally tore them apart. To her lithe and vigorous body - she added spirit and determination which made her indeed more than a match for the slender, somewhat broken man before her. "You see." she cried. She stood be tween him and the doorway, one hai^ outstretched, the fingers open. "t could kill you before you left this cave. You told me that you had sent your men back to the ship and that you were alone upon the island, and I could hide where I hid before and they would find your dead body here upon the sands. That would be all." "Kill me if you wish," said the man recklessly. "I don't car£. Perhaps that would be the better way." "No," said the woman, "I respect you too much for that." "Respect me?" "Yes. You have shown me what you are by what you have done, all but this mad action of a moment since, and I can understand that, my friend, for 1 too love, and it seems to me that I would brook anything, ev erything, for one moment like that you iain would have enjoyed. But we are not children, neither are we sav ages to act like beasts of prey. I for give you, I trust you." She came close to him and laid her hand upon his arm. "1 respect you, I admire you!" "Everything," said the man, "but love me." "Everything but that," assented the soman quietly. "I shan't offend again," returned the man. "Neither by force nor per suasion can I effect anything. Kate." he said after another pause, "come back to the United States or to some civilized land. The world is before you. I will land you where you please and give you or lend you money enough to enable you to get where you like. You shall be on the yacht to me as my sister." "It can't be." said the woman. "Don't you see that I can accept no favors from you?" you hold sacred that you will never tell anyone, much less him, that you came back and found me alive." "You set me a hard task " faltered the ma*. "But I am sure," continued the woman, "it is not too hard for ycu to accomplish. Come, you have said you wanted to make amends. That is all past, now, forgotten and forgiven, but if you really would make me happy, you will promise what 1 say." "And what is that again?" "On your word of honor as a gen tleman, by all that you hold sacred, you will never mention to a human soul that you found me here alive." "On my word, by all that I do hold sacred, by my love for you, Kate, I will not speak unless in some way you give me leave." 'So help you God!" said the woman solemnly. "So help me God!" replied the man with eqtfal gravity. "And now you must go." let articles, pieces of cloth, writing paper, pencils, a heaping profusion of all that he fancied she might need, that might afford solace and compan ionship to her and alleviate the loneli ness of those hours. In her heart she thanked him, and lifting up her hands, she blessed him again. He had made life possible and tolerable to her. She could write, she eould read, she could sew. And all this while she could hope and dream. CHAPTER XXIII. A Great Purpose. L^te springtime in old Virginia. The climate was not unlike that of the is land during the cooler portions of the year, thought the man, standing on the porch of the high-pillared old brick house set upon a hill overlooking the pale green waters of Hampton Roads, which stretched far eastward past Newport News and Old Point Com fort tO Lliiri O* iiit; Vii' w:JU far beyond that to the deeper blue of the ocean. Back of hixa a thousand leagues of land and more than a thou sand leagues of sea intervened be tween him and the object of his thoughts. Not for a day, not for an hour, scarcely for a momeht even was that island out of his mind. There was pleasure and pain in the recollec tion of it. Upon the man's face a stern mel ancholy had settled. Not the melan choly of ineptitude and indifference, not the melancholy that made him do nothing, unmindful of the large issues of life in which he had been suddenly plunged, not the melancholy that par alyzed hiB activities, but the melan choly that comes from the presence In the heart of an unplucked sorrow that neither time nor chance nor occupation could uproot; a melancholy that came j V / "Kate!" 8aid the Man, Impulsively. : a -or. • T will breaking heart. She sat "But no one need ever know, I will • discharge the crew of the yacht in some South American port. They will scatter--" "God would know and 1 would know and when I see him again, I would have to tell him. It would mafre it harder for me. And I don't wan: to go back. I will wait .here for him." "Kate," said the man impulsively, "it was ungenerous of me not to have told you before. They took him away from the islands senseless, raving with brain fever. He collapsed stricken as if dead on the sand by that little heap of clothes and the Bible which bore your message. He thought you dead. He left the ship in the early morning to seek you. The shock was too much for him." "He loved me, then," said the woman. "Yes," said Langford, wringing the admission Irom his lips, "he loved you enough almost to die for you." "But he is not dead. He wu not when you left the cruiser?" "No, they signaled me at noontime in answer to my inquiry that the doc tor thought he would finally pull through, although it would be a long, terrilic nege; but if he diea, Kate, "I have one request to make of you, Kate, before I go," said Langford. "If I can grant it, you may be as sured I will." "It is very easy. Will you stay in this cave for two hours?" "I have no watch," said the woman, "but I will guess the time as best I can." "Then," said the man, "go down to the beach. The yacht will be gone." "Valentine," said the woman, "you don't mean to stay here on the island?" "I would stay gladly," returned the other, "if I thought that I were wel come, but} know that cannot be." "I will wait?' said the woman. "Good-bye!" She extended her hand to him. He seized it in his own trembling grasp and kissed it. He remained a mo ment with his lips pressed to her hand and she laid her other hand upon his bonded head. He heard her lips mur muring words of prayer. He released her hand, stooped lower, laid some thing at her feet, turned and reso lutely marched out Into the sunlight. The woman lifted her hand, the hand he had kissed. It was wet with tears. The man had left her with a down upon sand to think her thoughts during her two hours wait. Her bare foot touched something metallic. She bent over and picked it up. It was his watch. He had placed it there. The simple kindness, the spontaneous gen erosity of the little action moved her a*, had not all his pleas, and she min gled her own tears with his upon her hand. She looked the watch after a while and found that more than two hours had elapsed, nearly three. The latter part of the time had fled swiftly in thoughts of him. She was hungry and thirsty, too. It was noon. She went out on the sands. The yacht was nowhere to be seen. She could not have . gotten below the hori zon. She divined that he had sailed around the island and away in that direction. There was a pile of boxes amr things on the sand above the high water mark. She stepped toward it and opened one of the sea chests. It was filled with books and papers, a strange collection. He had ransacked the yacht for her. Another chest con tained provisions with which she had loag been unfamiliar. There were toi- from the sense of bereavement ever growing more keen and more poig nant as £he period of bereavement lengthened and which sprang from a consciousness of imperfections and failures for which no after achieve ment could atone. ' It had not been difficult to establish his rights. Whittaker and the chap lain, armed with the depositions, had taken the man across the continent when th« ship had been put out of commission at San Francisco, and pre sented him to his uncle, the Charnock in residence in that great bouse on the Nanaemond shore overlooking that estuary of the James by Hampton Roads. The old man, childless and alone, had welcomed him gladly. The newcomer was of the Charnock blood. It was a strange moment for the is lander when they took him into the great drawing-room and showed him the pictures of his father and of his mother. He was the living image of the man, tempered with some of tbe mother's sweetness. This remarkable likeness--indeed he was not unlike his uncle as well--coupled with the material proofs, the ring, the Bible, the evidence of the ship, together with what was known, removed every lin gering doubt from the minds of those most concerned. The family was reduced to those two, the uncle and the nephew. Th" old man formally and legally recog nized the relationship and offered to transfer the property rightfully his, which since the discovery of coal had increased enormouslyNin value, to the newcomer, but Charnock would have none of it then. He recognised bis unfitness to deal with such things. If the older man would retain it, he could give it to him at his death. Meanwhile be could teach and train him how to use it. Bereft of bis one guide, his one inspiration in life, he would need wise counsel and careful leading indeed. In addition to the formal recogni tion, the elder man legally adopted tht younger and constituted him the heir to his own property whifch was'almost as extensive and as valuable as that which rightly belonged to the nephew. Charnock could not have fallen into better hands. Education was his first requirement and he applied himself to it with a fierce energy and a grim determination which presently, from the splendid foundation which had been laid enabled him to progress suf ficiently to take his place and hold his own with men and women. It was impossible to keep secret forever till details of such a story as his, es pecially when it was linked with a name so famous and still remembered as that of Katharine Brenton, and it had been decided by Capt. Ashby and Whittaker and the man himself that Buch portions of it as would suffice to explain his own presence and her fate should be given to the world. Upon l the foundation thus afforded ro- mnnce builded. Charnock immediately became a marked man. He would have been a marked man In any event from the financial power that he possessed. His uncle's management had been wise and prudent, he had spent little and had saved much, so that Charnock found himself the possessor ©f vast riches in the form of available capital. Among the first things he learned was the power of money. Had he not been steadied by the memory of the woman, he would probably have learned it to his sorrow. As it was, he was almost miserly. He spent little up on himself. His wants were astonish ingly few and contact with the world did not develop extravagant ideas. Those were things which he was too old to learn, against which he had been anchored. He was saving what he had and what he could get for some great purpose, a purpose of help, of assistance in which he could com memorate her name, for which future generations should rise up and call her blessed. He had long talks with his uncle about it. The old man would fain have had his nephew marry and carry cs the ancient line. Delicately, ten derly, he broached the subject after a time, but the suggestion met with ab solute refusal. Women interested Charnock as men did. Indeed his in terest in his kind was intense. The intellectual stimulus of conversations with bright, intelligent people was the most entrancing result of his contact with the world. But none of them touched his heart. That was buried on that gemlike Island in the far off sea. He was a man of unusual force of character, prompt and unyielding de cision. His uncle had not lived his long life without being able to esti mate men. He recognized very early in the undertaking the futility of ar gument, and though he tried finesse in the presence of the wittiest, the clev erest, and most beautiful women of Virginia and elsewhere, for the two traveled throughout the United States, welcomed everywhere, bis ef forts were unavailing. There was more than one woman who would have been glad to accept the man's suit; whom, if he had wooed ever so slightly he could have won, but he was friendly with everyone and in love with none. At the end of two years society gave him up as confirmed in his Isolation and loneliness. He was not the less welcome, but he was no longer a matrimonial possibility, nor was he any more the wonder that he had been. New things engrossed public attention. The world presently took Charnock as he would fain have it take him. as a matter of course. He ('id things slowly, not because that v. ;,s his nature, but from an in- vinci; U determination to do things right He made his plans deliberately and had formulated an enterprise so comprehensive in its scope, so vast in its outlay and with such infinite possi bilitles of help to the poor, the wretched, the down-trodden classes of society, that when the foreshadowings of it were announced, people stood amazed An undertaking so great was within the power even of Char not nock. Hi* resources were utterly un equal u> it. but he had euough to make a magnificent beginning and by devo ting to it the whole revenue of his es tate. and the estate itself after he died, gradually the enterprise would be achieved. There was no necessity for secrecy about it. indeed with that simplicity and canaor so unusual and so uncon ventional, which touch with the world had never been able to alter, he had ! spoken of his plans without reserve and he had declared with equal frank* ness that what he was doing was in memory of the noblest and the truest, of women, to whom he owed it that he was a human being and not an ani- ML Whittaker, of whose judgment he thought highly and with desert, was called from the naval service to be the executive head of the great un» dertaking. The spiritual work was to be placed in the hands of the chaplain wfco had so endeared himself to the promoter and deviser of it all. Char nock realized that these men who had known Katharine Brenton would enter more sympathetically into his views and could be depended upon to carry them out in case anything happened to him. He and his uncle and one or two others of excellent judgment whom he had met. were associated with the two mentioned to carry out all the founder's plans. Now, this thing was not done in a corner. The news of it was carried over the United States and spread even to foreign lands. The world rea it and marveled again. A newgpape carrying an account of it fell under the eye of a lonely man In San Fran cisco, who had just returned from a long voyage in northern seas. The name "Charnock" caught his eye first; and then Langford saw the name of the woman he loved. He read with avidity, appreciating as none could better do than he from his trained business acumen the scope and yet the feasibility of the undertaking. He had wondered cynically what would be the career of the man in the Uni ted States. He knew the value, as did every business man, especially ev ery man with large transportation in terests like his, of the Charnock es tate. He would have wagered that Charnock would lose his hsad e>- ninety-nine men out of a hundre would have done, and that into* cated by the sudden touch of the material world which was at his feet* he would have gone the usual pace; and he would have won his wager had it not been for tbe immortal memory of the woman they both loved, he felt bitterly enough He sat alone in his office in the great building and pondered over the account in the paper. He had been mistaken in the man. He waa really worth while. He was worthy of the woman. If he had not sworn an oath, given his word-- He hesitated, smil ing bitterly. The woman alone could release him. Should he sail down to the island with that paper and tell that story. He had waited too long. Tbe army surgeons of Alaska had told him the brutal truth; that he had but a few months to live and that i* he had anything to do before he went out into the beyond, he had better do it quickly. No, he could not go down there and tell her and get released from his promise. Yet how Charnock would revel in such news as he, and he alone, could give him. He loved the woman and he hated the man. He could not bear to think that the man should have what was denied him. He could not bear to think of the woman he loved in another's arms. And yet he loved the woman. As he pictured Charnock happy, sp be pictured Kate sad, fret ting out her life on that island as he had fretted out his on the ship. And he could make her bappy by a word if h» broke his oath and was false to the plighted word he had given her. Should he do it for her sake? Would she forgive him? He would be past forgiveness when she knew. (TO BE CONTINUED.) , Try This, Yhta Summer. The very next time you're hot, tired 9t thirsty, step up to a soda fountain and get a glass of CocarCola. It will cool you off, relieve your bodily and mental fatigue and quench your thirst delightfully. At soda fountains or carbonated in bottles--6c everywhere. Delicious, refreshing and wholesome. Send to the Coca-Cola Co., Atyrata, Ga., for their free booklet "^he Truth About* Coca-Cola." Tells what Coca- Cola is and why It is so delicious, re freshing and thirst-quenching. And send 2c stamp for tbe Coca-Cola Base ball Record Book for 1910--contains ua j.vrui V«UW7 At i U« DAI, records, schedules for both leagues and other valuable baseball Inform* tion compiled by authorities. She's a Free Lance. "Would you have a pickpocket ar rested if you detected one in the art of going through your pockets?" "With one exception." "What's that?" "Not if it was my wife." Dr. Pierce's Pleasant Pellets reguhil and invigorate stomach, liver and bowels. Sugar-coated, tiny granules, etqr to as candy. Formerly the people burned i)lf<t>« Now they roast politicians. Mrs. TTUiaiow'i soothing I Jbrehll<!i*n t»»!!s!2^. aofteas yysis, TRunlMetlfc* e*mm»Uon4U>»y»p»ut.<rareewti»duolie. Knock and the world will join in the anvil chorus. The Modern School System Cored by Lydla E Pink- ham'sVegetableCompound Baltimore, "Mil --" For four my life was a misery to me. I suffered , - to^om irregular!-, 4 ties, terrible drag- = -y*u ing sensations, extreme nervous- ness, and that all g-one feeling in my - stomach. 1 haa * ffiven tip hope of ever being * well when I began to take Lydia E. .Pink- ham's Vegetable ComponntL Then I felt as though new life had been given me, and I am recommending J: to all my friends."--Mrs. W. S. FORD, 2201 W. Franklin St,, Baltimore, . The most successful remedy in thli • country for the cure of all forms of female complaints i« .Lydia E. Pink* •' ham's Vegetable Compound. It has» stood the test of vears and to-day fa more widely and successfully used than any other female remedy. It has cured . thousands of women who have been. troubled with, displacements,,, inflam-' ma tion, ulceration, fibroid tumors, ir regularities, periodic pains, backache,, that bearing-down feeling, flatulency, indigestion, and nervous prostration, after all other means had failed. If you are suffering from any of these ailments, don't give up hope until you have given Lydia E. Pinkham's Vege table, Compound a trial. If you would like special advice write to Mrs. Pinkhaiu, Juynr Mass., for it, She lias jpr thousand* to toltfti charge. The Army of Constipation Inn Crowing Smaller Ifefw CARTER'S LITTLE LIVER PILLS <m ffcupttutible---ibey Wjr tpwa x'eiiei- tkey perm, cuse €«wtip» Um. Mil liotu QM them for Klmi- iMifnti--, Aisk, SttKew Ski*, HALL Pit.!.,, S*iii,IKEE» SliM. flKS Genuine mUk Signature rjt Writer Advances Arguments Against Idea of Making Things Easy for Children. I ndcr the "improved" system, says a writer in tbe Atlantic, the teacher does all the hard work, and does it in advance. The ideal is to make child hood. including the school period, a prolonged play spell. Par be it from me to cast reproach upon anything which renders life happier for any class of human beings; but are ease and happiness always synonymous terms? The champion of the new system insists that the old one was economically wasteful, since to walk over well-cleared paths conserves force which would also be profttlessly expressed in hacking one's way through a jungle. Granted; and by the same token is a shocking waBte in our ordinary mode of eating and drinking, so why Bhould not the whole race subsist on concentrated tablets and quench its thirst with vaporizers? Show me the person who has made such an experiment in scientifically sifted alimentation, and I will pre sent him as a "horrible example" to Il lustrate the other side of the argu ment. When Dr. Tanner went a step further, and proved that a man could liv^ for 40 days with no food at all. he did so at the cost of a set of teeth, and some other sacrifices which few of us are yet prepared to make. If tbe end sought is the reduction of tbe problem of living to its simplest terms, why not model upon Indian and be dnne with it? the wild D'Annunzio's Clothes. D"Annunzio, like Mascagni another somewhat troublesome geulus. pays great attention to his dress, and some time ago a Neapolitan paper published an amusing inventory oj his wardrobe. It Included the following: «»irts, 72: socks of all kinds, 12 dozen; socks of quiet tinted silk, two dozen; hats, evening suits, smoking-coats, shooting- jackets, innumerable; gloves for walking, 48 pairs, gloves for evening. 24 pall's; mufflers of beautiful silk, three; walking-sticks, 12; umbrella* of violet hue, eight, green, ten; hand kerchiefs, 20 dozen; cravats, resplec dent and varied. 150; waistcoats, ten* shoes for walking, 14 pairs; slippers. • soft, silent and tremulous," two palm Starting a Rubber Plant. Rubber plants are usually started by a method known as mossing, a cut is made in a young branch aad a wedge put in it to keep the surfaces apart. A bunch of sphagnum moss is then fastened around the stem over the cut. the moss being kept wet As soon as the young roots appear on tile outside of the moss the young branch is cut off and potted up. Ficus elastica. the rubber plant el our houses, must produce seed in its home, tropical Asia, but it does not at tain a sUe sufficient under cultivation in greenhouses to do SO often.-»9fc Mchoiaa t FEEDERS STOCKERS Choice quality; red* a.nd roandCf white faces or bought oft orders. Tens of Tuousanda t# •elect from. S*tUf»t-tu>n •u teed. Correspondence 1utU«4, Come and see for yourself. National Live Stock Com. Ka--sCHy.iU.. to.Wii ;'v$- Stent» mrreptionalaBpartvaitT fer |W IWMI .< earn « liberal weekly tn«uibj>. Furtfter- iiiorv. you can establish a "-etmammu, ellllf )>">(> table business, or a wjU-paytes t " "slde-lin# ' by wurtiiair«j©ur.sjp«-' *• attariniCVa »-i*!>>lan Our worst •sUaateMMl Jp Jk & •-> remunerate«*.audrequire*uucaplbtlorptwnetisaa- ,*i"*'• mrteore. K«u;«ui»»er. your aatanr i»*eaiaatewl-eBd r!t [| ee(lr«:« from tbe Utx>ma etratanlatiMM " other bouUM*. fcvm* uf our mirawMltoU** IMIUR rmiiit'.rvK rivat «i .908.9# to «•».« y«arljr._W* OMkl a I > ill 3 i>!»a &t oao«. TU«a 1 Incur* your«*:f tbe ln«t wturo# yvu «»» »-ur» {ran tkla - great un«v>rk«d Cletii by maili&cc tfete - NO W~~to : JasMors-Lit iN a****., i*»» tauCM OLD SORES CURED illen tf I IceriavoilTe CQ retrhrunki Ircnk l'6e«rstrotulous l'lc#ra.V»ric«»«y l'W*«wra»l"«- dole-it V V lrer»,Whl .jjwyli- ttiK.iililk L^«.Fe»»rJ8pre«, iUil iJtlsa FOR SALE EXCEPTIONAL OFFER t'U>thiti>r Store su thri-msir ia Central Ilhuo.s. JiewstiK-k. modrrtt tUW**. e»tal>h»hf*t trail*?. P. A. TOU OCUHT TO county saal In centeri>f BioUraode JIry aaatr*^ ntfon: railroad. c*BaW«>uri wjoot. fct A. quick. t». «*»»*». TJICTTKK THAN THK OkA SAiiAN JtS XHIVT's iho tfce t Ml to tiMUHH' [»t»>t v* th® imuia MM**. tor UteraMM. -4^ !.ssS.