THAT GIRL OF JOHN§ON:S •By J£A^ K*T£ £U9£VM. Author a/ "At * Girl'* Mtrat." £U. to Act of Coasresa in the Yeir WW bgr 8 tra«t A Snihk. la the Office of the Librarian of Conttress, at Washington, D. C. CHAPTER XVIII.--Continued. ' "The deputies?" Dolores repeated slowly. "the softened color and gentle .'expression disappeared from her face; -- she drew her hand's away from Doras sti^Yclinging Angers; she pushed back the ^Vtfhair that had slipped down on her ^ forehead. T^hen the deputies had been J eearching for her father. That was 'wlfat those men were there for* that taorning when they stopped and asked jof her where he was. , ; ^ ; And if those men of the law can® tor him when he was not there, when every one knew that he was not there, 'W-'f; / and sought for him over on the oppo- -«• ' ®ite mountain among its dangers, Xfr,. ' 'would they not come at any time for Shim to prove thefc" case? Might they >4-1janot even insist upon taking him over ^ * vV° the town in spite of his condition? ^Unconsciously her fingers closed over f^'the flowers in her lap, crushing them "'relentlessly. Two soft hands released the flowers, and as Dora wiped away the red stains of the blossoms from her cousin's hands, she said, with a Bweet laugh: "Dolores, what is the matter? See what you have done to the poor, pret ty flowers--you have killed them; .. their blood is on youj hands, and your hands have stained mine.' P xV The effect of her words on Dolores "was startling. She drew away her hands sternly and arose to her feet, clutching the door post to steady her- ^!C'«elf; her face was white, and her eyes Vf%"wlde and terrified. Young Green, re- turning from up the mountain, heard Dora's last words and turned away with a face as pallid as Dolores". Dora arose quickly, and clasped her hands around her cousin's arm, raising Ther swfeet, penitent face to here. ffci -. ': "Dolores, Dolores, I did not mean that--I was only joking--I could not :have meant it--I would not have said such a thing1 for the world--1 forgot £ you were not used to me, and " ^ The words ended in a violet fit of coughing that racked the slender p^^'Kframe pitifully. Raising her handker- ^ • * ' chief to her lips she sank upon the ^'?Vj®tep. $$"<'"% Young Green entered the hotfse un- ^ • noticed and* spoke" to Mrs. Allen, who &$£>'/•'},came out at onc% and sat down beside , '^Dora, placing her arm around her with jp! }. low, tender words of comfort, i.' ' Yoj^pg Green came out with a cup of water, and Mrs. Allen thanked him a. i " with a grateful glance, but as she took W:*-s- It and placed it to Dora's lips she f\ J" glanced at Dolores, and her glance <v : was full of hate; while young Green , himself for the moment dared not if-.- f meet her eyea for fear of betraying ' what was in his mind and heart. "Will she lie down and,rest?" asked Dolores, presently, still standing {it-a fe|f: , "Come in at once, Dolores; Dora wishes you." Dr. Dunwlddfe hearhig the words and catci.mg sight "of the woman's face, crosesfl the room and spoke to Dolores, his voice .low with kindness. She started when he addressed her, and turned obediently with one swift, startled glance up into his face, and entered the room half hesitatingly. Dora put out her hand as she Crossed the room. "Dolores!" she said, entreatlngly. Drt Dunwiddie turned "quickly oway and entered the inner room where his friend was waiting for him. By and by, when she was better, Dora sat up among )the pillows, and drew Dolores down beside her, hold ing her hands caressingly between her own, smoothing the tense, slender fingers now and then with pathetic tenderness as though to atone or soften her careless, wounding words. * A 01'. distance from her, speaking as though |j| her lips were stiff. >W/'\ At sound of her voice Dora opened her eyes slowly and looked up at her ||r. -j- with a faint smile; but Mrs. Allen, without replying, motioned to Charlie, who, understanding her wish, crossed K ' , over to the bedroom and tapped light er j, ly on the door. Dr. Dunwiddie opened It at once, and after a whispered word or two he went out to the girl, while . young Green entered the quiet room, f j Johnson lay in a stupor among the IKpillows, his sunken eyes closed, L.s cruel lips apart, showing the discol- ' ored teeth within; his shoft white • \ heard was coarse and thin, and lent additional repulsiveness to the narrow face. The young man stood at the , bedside looking long and earnestly at the face of the other, until the expres- ||'\v i slon of wonder and horror slowly jg-'V'- gave place to one of pity. v "Poor fellow,"he said to himself; '• "poor fellow; Surely he has suffered „• enough already; why not leave him in peace to God and bis conscience; 'Forgive qs ye would be forgiven.* Friend, gfi in peace. Truly, I have jfer ned of forgiveness, and should not pull down the bridge over which I myself must pass. But how such « weman as she could have come from such a nature as his Is a problem. My poor, tender-hearted girl, how she 40frt-red Just now and 1 could do noth ing!" Dr. Dunwiddie meanwhile went out -to the group in the sunny doorway. His grave, dark face was full of kind ness as he bent over the frail girl, *nd spoke to Mrs. Allen. | "She must lie down at once," he said, •"and be kept perfectly quiet for a Mm what do you do with no church, Mr schools, nor anything?" And Dolores, driven at lastto speak,- asked mechanically: "Why should•>-web hate a church, and what is * church?" CHAPTER XIX. Sp**.' • gt%r. " "•Dolores, I Did Not Mean That." #jUle. No, you must not walk," as she attempted to rise. "Allow me, Miss Johnson." He raised her in his arms as though 4he were in truth a child, and carried her to the settle between the south windows. She did not speak until Mrs. Allen brought her beef tea and fed her with tender care; then, half rising among the pillows, whiter than 'they, she asked faintly with a wistful- ness in her eyes that sent an angry . gaatg through the woman's heart: ••'Where - is--Dolores--Nurse Allen? J--want--Dolores." Mrs. Allen called ehsrply in a rolee feat caused Dora to look up at her in W • .i&'JL'A* "It Is So Beautiful There." She leaned her pure, pale face against the gray window casing that the soft,, low wind with its subtle odor of pines should blow upon her. Her large gray eyes, grown black with a half shy love and pleading, rested on fier cous in's grave face. And she did not know that the slender shred of pale blue ribbon lay safely hidden in the depths of the doctor's pocket as he re-entered the sick room beyond. They talked long there at the cool south window, she, smaller girl, hold ing her cousin's hands closely in hers, telling her of the world beyond the chained mountains, of the life that throbbed and pulsed out of her sight. Dolores listened in silence, wonder ing more and more how this girl could care to love her, could care to have her for her cousin. "We will paint together, Dolores," she said, "and sew and play. You shall sing and I will accompany you on my guitar, and you Bhall sing and accompany yourself, for the guitar will just suit your voice; and how you would look in an old gold gown with warm colored roses about you, play ing a guitar, Its broad ribbon across your shoulders, your eyes--just as they are now. Oh, such a soul as there is In them at this minute, Do lores Johnson! The men will love you, and the women--must. Dolores, Do lores, I cannot wait I wish I might take you right now." She paused, breathless, smiling, sit ting erect, holding Dolores by her two young arms, her sweet face flushed with excitement. At that moment Dr. Dunwiddie opened the bedroom door and spoke to Mrs. Allen, and she entered with him, young Green coming out. Dora flushed as she saw. him, and she aroused from the settle, shaking her head sunnily. "Mr. Green, I beg your pardon for detaining you--I do, Indeed. Truly, I did not think." He smiled reassuringly at her. "It has been pleasant to me, Miss Johnson--so pleasant that I had for gotten the case on at eleven at home, It is now ten minutes of that hour, and if you will pardon my leaving you I will send the carriage for you at any time you name." Dolores did not move or speak. The case on hand. Her ears seemed sharp to catch and hold such sentences. These words only were clear, the rest were distant and jumbled. Even when be spoke to her she seemed incapable of hearing or replying. That her si lence was caused by anything he said he did not imagine, but he was grow ing accustomed to her silence. "I wish I could stay with you al ways," Dora said softly when the young man bad gone, "but I cannot leave father.' Dolores, you know. You do not blame me, I am sure. And I will come over every day or whenever can. Father would have come over with me this morning, but Judge Green wished him to be in court. They have a strange case on hand, and I am so interested in, it; aren't you, Do lores? About the laming of young Mr. Green's beautiful mare, you know? I believe they have some new evidence to be heard this morning. Young Mr. Green was to have been there early to attend to some important matter be fore court opened, and here I have detained hlnr." Still Dolores did not move or speak. In a vague manner the thought pre sented itself to her that one of the marble gods Dora had been telling her about could scarcely be more like stone than she, and she wondered, too, in that strange half sense if these marble men and women were capable of suffering as human men and wom en? And Dora continued In her low voice, rising and pulling Dolores by the hand for her to follow. "Let us go out of doors, cousin mine; it is so beautiful there with the pines and the mountains. I feel as though God were very near In the si lence of the hills, and to be alone with silence Is to be alone with God;' but ,1 think he is somehow nearer In the hearts of his humanity. You have not «v«n a chgrch here, Dolores. Why, - dime's Developments. Johnson slowly recovered; the day® passed, and the weeks, while he lin gered weak and complaining.. Dolores' presence annoyed him, and drove him to fits of temper, until Dr. Dunwiddie advised her to remain away from him as much as possible. Dr. Dunwiddie regularly drove over to see Johnson once a week, and Mrs. Allen remained in the low, unpalnted house in the miost of its desolate gar den, filling the rooms with her pres ence, but daily growing more hardened toward the quiet girl who was winning Dora's affection away from her, she told hejpelf, in excuse for her un friendly feeling, but the girl herself, buried in other thoughts, believed it was from the kindness of her heart that she talked to her so often during the long evenings of the life outside of the quiet settlement and of the man ners she would there be expected to copy, and she accepted in silence the many words of advice as to her lack of pride in allowing young Green to see so clearly her feelings toward him, and the cautioning • uttered with a kindly smile or soft touch on her arm against allowing herself to be so in-' fiuenced by almost an utter stranger who was kind to her only out of pity, and who could never care for her other than as the merest acquaintance, she, the daughter of the blacksmith who was waited for to prove the malice in the laming of his mare. The woman knew well the stories adrift in the settlement that had somehow come to her she scarcely knew how herself, and of the girl's dread of what might follow the prov ing of the case waiting in the town for her father's presence. That the girl had never done her harm to cause this feeling of hatred shef would not believe. Had she not won Dora's heart In a fashion she could never do? Could she accept this unmurmuri4gly? Was there nothing she could do to hurt the girl in Dora's eyes? And if that were impossible--and she soon learned that it was--was it impossible for her to wound the girl herself in every way conceivable to a narrow mind. (To be continued.) FRENCH WOMAN IN TROUBLE. Her Artificial Nose a Source of Much Annoyance. A Paris washerwoman living in the Rue Riquet finds herself in a strange predicament. Two years ago she had a quarrel with her husband, who struck her on the nose with such violence as to break it. The woman went to the hospital, and after some months of treatment came out with a new nose. Since then peace has reigned in the household, but thq other .morning she discovered to her consternation that a growth of hair was developing on the new organ. It grew thicker day by day, and caused great amusement tc^tha neighbors. In her distress she went to the local commissary of police and stated that she wished to get a divorce from her husband, whose brutality was the original cause of the ridicule to which she was exposed. She also told him that to make the new nose a portion of a human scalp had been used, which sufficiently accounts for the growth of hair. The commissary could only refer the woman to the courts. --London Mail. . PHOTOGRAPHY IN THE'DARK. "I hope you wlU not consider this an qnpropltioti8 moment, but you know it has long been my one wish to make you my wife." Lord Cartleigh had tossed his cigar ette over the side a moment before, and his face took on thatJiook of earn estness which most meii, be they lord or layman, are apt to feel during that period when they are supremely con scious of themselves. "Now, Bertie," said his companion, looking at him archly, "please don't get serious. It's too warm." They were alone on the deck of the jacht--her father's boat. It was twi light in Newport harbor. / "Why shouldn't I be serious? Mky- be it is common fof1 a man to fall in love with a woman--but, surely,'my dear girl, it Is a serious matter to fttfi in love with a woman like you." She tapped her foot impatiently on the deck, v "Now, Bertie/' she said, 'let's be fair with each other. You are a Teal nice boy, and I like you. I even like you for yourself alone. It isn't your fault that you were born in a station that requires an annual expenditure of a hundred thousand or so to be comfortable, and that you don't hap pen to have It. If yoii married a poor girl you'd be a fool. You'd make her unhappy, and it wouldn't do. So you naturally do what is expected of you." "But I tell you I love you." "Of course you do--but before yon permit yourself this little indulgence you looked up papa in the mercantile register. Munston & Co., bankers and brokers. Broad street. Branch offices in London, Paris and Berlin. Capital anything over ten millions. Marriage able daughter--Octavia. Can be se cured by right party, and so forth, and so forth. Now, didn't you?" Lord Cartleigh got up and took a turn on the deck. He witched his moustache nervously. A launch, re turning with the latest afternoon pa pers, glided up to the side. The man placed them on the table and went forward. Then Cartleigh said: , "It's deucedly cruel of you to put it that way. I may be a product of my set, as you say. But I'm a better sort than that. I'm not a cad, you know." She put her hand on his arm. "Of course you're not," she said. "Really, Bertie, you're all sorts of good things. But--read this." He took up the paper she handed him with an air of abstraction, but M he looked at the startling headline his florid face turned pale in its excite- ment. "What!" he exclaimed. "What's this? Munston & Co. falls, Assets nominal, liabilities unknown." The paper dropped from his hand. "Is that true?" he asked. "Oh, yes. Mamma told me last week. She's- been in town all this time--and it's so uncomfortable in town just now--trying to stave it off. Staving It off, you know. Is an Ameri canism, not exactly slang, but near 1L Pray, pardon me for it. Mamma, want ed to give me timd. Considerate of her, wasn't it?" "Time--for what?" She looked at him quizzically. "Bertie," she said, "you are awfully dull and stupid--but, then, that's an Englishman's privilege. Don't you understand? Mamma wanted to give me time before the announcement in the papers to M ^ It was his tuitt to eniiie--rather grimly. "Well, why didn't you? You had op portunity enough. Why, here I have been begging you every night for a week to -be my wife.*' "I know it But I thought it was so mean to get you into such a scrape, and then leave you to get out of It the best way you could after you had found out about the failure. Beside, I " He turned and caught her hands In his. It was dark enough now for them not to be clearly.seen from the other decks. "Octavia," he said* '"Whatever mo tive may have prompted me in the be* ginning, can't you see now that I love you? I don't care if you haven't a penny in the world, It makes no dif ference. I still -tfant you to be my wife, now, more than ever. Won't you believe me now?" She withdrew her hand slowly and smiled at him saucily, yet with a gen uine trace of tenderness. "Bertie," she said, "I believed you all along. But it's out of the question. Maybe some day---" "But why now now? Nowt Haven't I proved that I loved you?" She turned again and faced him, as she rose fo go down Into the 'cabin-- perhaps for the last time. "You stupid boy," she said, "don't you see tha,t just now papa and I cant afford it?" The Songs of Our Land Thr Yetr German Professor 8ays Light Is Not Needed for Making Pictures. The light is not needed for the printing of photographs is a discov ery which has been made by Dr. Wil- helm Oswald, professor of chemistry in the University of Leipsic. He produces the required'changes in the sensitized paper by the use of silver on nega tives treated with a solution of per oxide of hydrogen. The presence of silver causes the elements of the solu tion to react against each other. In a very short time in those places where there is silver In the negative the solution wUl disappear; in the other spots remain. This invisible pic ture is then transferred to gelatine paper and finally developed by iron sulphate in solution. Gallic acid is then applied and the result is a genu ine ink picture. Dr. Oswald declares that in this method the sensitized paper will keep indefinitely and the silver can be used over any number of times. He says the process is far cheaper and quicker than any now In use, besides requiring no light. By it any design or drawing can be quickly c o p i e d . * . ' ' • , Nothing Like Method. There are stories related of some very systematic men, and the follow ing, which is told as an actual fact, would take some beating. A medical specialist was very much In the habit of using a note book to assist his memory and insure precision. In course of time it happened that his aged father died. The worthy doctor attended the obsequies as chief mourn er with due solemnity. At the close he was observed to take out his note book aud to carefully erase the words; . "Mem. Bury father."--Scottish Ame»rt lean. This po&n was written by Frances Browne, the Blind Poetess, born in Donegal, Ireland, June 16, 1818. Songs of our land, ye are with us forever, The power and the splendor of thrones pass away; But yours Is the might of some far-flow ing river, rough summer's bright roses or au tumn's decay. ' treasure each voice of the swift-pass ing ages, And truth, which time writeth on leaves or on sand; Ye bring us the bright thoughts of poets and sages, And keep them among US, old songs of our land. The bards may go down to the place of their slumbers. The lyre of the charmer be hushed in the grave. But far fn the future the power of their numbers * Shall kindle the hearts of our faithful and brave. It will waken an eoho In souls deep and lonely, Like voices of • reeds by the summer breeze fanned; It will call up a spirit for freedom, when only Her breathings are heard In the songs of our land. For they keep a record of those, the true- hearted, Who fell with the cause they had vowed to maintain; They show us br)ght shadows of glory departed. Of love that grew cold, and tbe^ hope that was vain. The page may be lost, and the pen long forsaken, • And weeds may grow wild o'er the brave heart and hand; But ye are still left, when all else hath been taken, • l^lke streams in the desert, sweet songs of our land.vy^» Songs of our land, ye have followed the stranger, With power over ocean and desert afar. Ye have gone with our wanderers through distance and danger, And gladdened their path like a home-- guiding star. With the breath of our mountains in sum mers long vanished. And visions that passed like a wave from the sand, ' With hope for their country and Joy from •Jier banished, Ye come to us ever, sweet songs of our land. The springtime may. come with the song of our glory. To bid the green heart of the forest re joice, But the pine of the mountain, thoogh blasted and hoary, And the rock in the desert can send forth a voice. , It was thus in their triumph for deep desolations. While ocean waves roll or the moun tains shall stand. Still hearts that are bravest and best of the nations I Bhall glory and live in the aongs of our land. Realizing the Bald Truth Perhaps it was a sort of accident that first suggested the thing to him. At first he refused to believe it. He declared that it was an optical illu sion or the result of having over strained his nerves by smoking six teen strong cigars at the club that night, when his habit waB to smoke only a dozen, or thirteen at the most There was a mistake, somewhere, at all events. And yet, when he looked Into the mirror agafn and again, it was still there, and it seemed to grow larger and more glaringly visible at each succeeding survey. It was emphatic, insistant, Importunate--hot to be downed. Still he would not accept this evi dence; he could not, for it was too unreasonable a thing to be so. Ah, a happy thought! He might be asleep and dreaming It all. This gave him double assurance that his mental and physical condi tions were not normal. He jabbed his knuckles into the tender ravine be hind the lower lobe of his ear to sat isfy himself that he really was sleep ing* • ' 0ne At • Time. A fond'father was giving advloe to his young son the other day. Among other things he said: "If you try to do more than one thing at a time you can't do anything well." "Oh, yes, I can," said the yoong hopeful. "I've tried. I did three things the other day, all at one time, aqd did 'em all well." "How was that?" asked the father. "Well, you see, I swung on the gate and whistled and threw a stone at T9mmy Brown--and hit him, too." Heavens! He was wide awake! Then it must be true; and yet--how could It he? There was only one chance left, one sole hope, and that one he clutched at as an asphyxiating person is popu larly supposed to clutch at a sample from the remains of last year's thrash ing. The sense of sight was merely cir cumstantial evidence; touch must be prima facie, and he hesitated before putting it to this test Finally, with stoic and well-nigh heroic daring he went to last resort. It was true--great heavens --it was true beyond peradventure! The spot was as sleek as a billiard, ball. To be sure It was a very small spot, but there was not a capillary vestige remaining, and he realized at last that what he accidentally had discovered in his looking glass was not an illu sion--It was the bald truth; and, as he withdrew his hand from the blank space top-rearward of his cranium the Idea came to him that it was about time he was getting married. MARSHALL FIELD S MANAGER Cured of Catarrh "•>' ; '•ii* Pry'S J ;,"f„ »»V of Kidneys by na. •"K.: - 1 .Sfi*• f • A s:i -;r -v 4<. " .1 • ^ 5 SHEAflAN, OP CHICAGO. HON. JOHN T W • .V4 • 1 •" ok •; "i - ' • r 'i ; • f f • "-.i^ "•;ii f b; xi-j.JUfcj-y/-• y X nA p'.^'k. Ml? - Hon. John T. Sheahan, who has been for seventeen years manager of Marshall Field & Ca 's wholesale warehouse, and is corj>oral 2<1 Regiment Infantry, I. N. G., writes the following letter from 3753 Indiana avenue, Flat Six, Chicago, I1L. Pefuna Medicine Co., Columbus, Ohio, Gentlemen--"Last summer / caught a cofd which seemed to tie in my kidneys and affected them badly. I tried a couple of kfd- ney remedies largely advertised, but they did not help me any. One of my foremen told me of the great help he had received la using Peruna in a similar case, and I at once procured some. "It was indeed a blessing to me, as I am on my feet a targe part bf the day, and trouble such as I had affected me seriously, but foUr bottles ot Peruna cured me entirely and I would not be without It for three months salary."--JOHN T. SHEAHAN. Mr. Jacob Fieig writes from 44 Sumner avenne. Brooklyn, N. Y.: ••lam now a new man at tbe age of seventy-five years, thanks to yotzr wonderful remedy Peruna."--Jacob Fle/g. Catarrhal inflammation of the mucous lining of the kidneys, also called "Bright's disease," may be either acute or chronic. The acute form produces symptoms of snch prominence that the serious nature of the disease is at once suspected, bat the chrosifl variety may come on so gradually and in sidiously that its presence is not suspected until after it has fastened itself thoroughly upon its victim. At the appearance of the .first symptom Peruna should be taken. This remedy strikes at once at the very root of the,dp- ease. A book on catarrh sent free by Peruna Medicine Co., Columbus, O. Successful prize fighters get their pay by the pound. Ask yoiuigroccr for Mi's. Austin's Famous Pancake Four. Fresh and delicious. Don't believe all you hear; but he sure-to'believe all you say. Artists' cherubs are like boarding house turkey--mostly head and wings. Storekeepers report that the extra quantity, together with the superior quality of Defiance Starch makes it next to impossible to sell any other brand. • I've seen young women spend three months' time and hundreds of dollars of their fathers' money in getting a trousseau for the purpose of marrying a 30 cent young man. > St. Nicholas, the magazine for young folks, continues to be as de lightfully entertaining and instructive as ever. The publishers, The Century Co., New York, will send a free speci men number on request. , ' \ 8ensible Housekeepers WlU have Defiance Starch, not alone because they get one-third more for the rame money, but also because of superior quality. In the November issue The Delinea tor sustains Its high position among fashion publications and literary magazines. Excellent reading and re fined art snppiement the display of winter fashions, which are more charming than at any previous ttme. . , ky'The Electrician's Mistake. ^,>iCollinsville, Conn., man who Is somewhat of an electrician, tried the novel experiment of electrocuting two mice. Two wir;es were attached to the trap and the current was turned on. Probably the theory was all right, but the trap wasn't. >. The current burned out most of the wires e« the trap and the mice escaped. PILE CURE There are remedies and rem edies on the market for Piles, -s most of which are iti|urloiier < ^ rather than helpful. r r;'< Dr. GaldweIPe (LAXATIVE) Syrup Pepsin 19 guaranteed to cure any case of Piles or the money re funded, If you follow directions* Is that strong enough? PEPSIN SYRUP CO., Montlcello, 111. bhhhhhbhbbh fj ogpTiit© PLEASANT p) i; THE NEXT MORNING t FECL BRIGHT $ND NEW AND MY COMPLEXION IS BETTER. Not for Russell Sage "Nearly every man who knows Mr. Russell Sage can tell a story about some kind of a financial transaction of his; but the stories in which Mr. Sage puts down a cent and takes up anything less are rare. This story is one of disappointment," says Col lier's Weekly. "One day, a young man of Mr. Sage's acquaintance--In fact, the grandson of an old friend of other days--approach ed him on the subject of a loan of |10 for two weeks and--got it. He prom ised faithfully to return the money at a stated hour, and the promise was as Had Often Been Kicked. faithfully kept., Mr. Sage had very "John Jones, the patient who came little to say when he gave np the $10 In a little while ago," said the attend* md quite as little when he got It back. ant In the out-patient department, "A week or ten days later, the young "didn't give his occupation." came to see him again, and this "What was the nature of his tro«» ume asked him for $100. making all ble?" asked the, resident physician. _ torts of representations of what he to ante. The young man was mr* prised, not to s&y pained. " 'Why,' he exclaimed, 'you know I'll pay it . all right. Didn't I say I'd have that ten for you on Monday, and wasn't I tnere to the minute with It?' "Mr. Sage beamed softly on the grandson of his old friend. " 'My boy/ he said, with no trace of unkindness in his tone, 'you disap pointed me oncd mbd I don't want you to do it again.' " 'I beg your pardon, I did not,' argued the youth. 'I said I would pay you back and I did.' " 'Yes, yes, my boy,' purred Mr. Sage, *you paid back the ten, and I never expected you would. Now if I let yon have a hundred I should expect you to pay it back and you wouldn't. One disappointment at my time of life la Mr. .Sage refused { enough, my boy. Qood mornln?.' • Injury at the base of the spina.", ,ronid do with It. **P®t him down aa a hook agent." , ^ -• • - , vy^. v. ,• - Mj doctor sat* *1 art««frently 00 the stomach, liTet and kidney* is plrasaut laxative Tliis drink ts made from hnrhst anil m prei>ftr»><! for U»e ** totally M tea. It i« culled TV*** or LANE'S FAMILY MEDICINE All.druggists or by milil 25 ct*. BO ctn. Buy it to it«7.v'I,anf'i« In mi I v Mrdiciiin Bo»m the bowreln each <)nv. In or<1cr bo hnMrhy thiftif qr. Adtlnw. U. V Woudvkfd. La K/w. H.T. TRADE MARK j For 1904. Four sheets 9x12 inches. Exterior and interior views, in colors, of the New White House jnd grounds. Also pictures from life and autographs of the President. Mrs. Roosevelt. Miss Alice.Roosevelt and the children. A Christmas piesent or holiday Card useful for a year. FIFTY CENTS NO ADVERTISING Remit direct. In stamps or cash, to The White Hoow Calendar Company. * [Incorporated] IMI Pta« Arts Building. Chicago, IIL Liberal discounts to agents and canvassers. DOLiLIAR WHEAT If yon \n»nt ft farm In the "dollar wheat ty'lt" writ'* for our booklet--"LAND WEALTH," giving de- ecriptions of the finest iuthewwt. If you want to nell your land we obtain highest prices for it. Our booklet- "How W«D» l*" free. Don t buy or Ml) land till you see us. VarlandLand&lni.Co. ST. PAUI., MINN. S0Z0D0NT TOOTH POWDER •**he Only Dentifrice of Ii tematioasl B»patation.'<-&i&4 BERNHARDT Standard 52 Years * SOZODONT SMOKERS FIND LEWIS* SINGLE BINDER 5f Ci$ar better Quality than most lOf Cigars four Jobber or direct from Factory. Peoria, 111 KIDDER'S MSTllilS I-11 --i--^ CAPSICUM VASELINE (T-UT VI* lit COT.T.AF8TBLK TrBFS) A snhstitute for and superior to mustard or ®ny other plaster, and will not blister the most delicate skin. The pain-allaying and currtive qualities of this ailxle are wonderful. It will Mop the toothaclre at once, and relieve head ache and sciatica. We recommend it as the best and safest external counter-irritant known, also as an eitetnal remedy for pains in the chest urni stomach and all rheumatic, neuralgic and goutv complaints. A trial will prove what wo claim for it, and it will be found to be invalu- alilt- in the household. Many people say "it is tht? bust of all your preparations. ' Price 15 cents, at all dniReists or other dealers, or by seiulinx this amount to us in posUKestamps'we will send you a tube by mail. No uiticle should be accepted by the public unless the same cariies our label, as otherwise it is not genuine. CHESRBROUCiH MFO. CO., 17 State Stieet, Nsw YORK CITT WELLES' BUREAU ^ iiiation on any nubjeci- Uu8iue»«, l.&w, llledl- rin^.ArtfSucltttj^Btac^. IVrsonal, AaythlBg. Anywhere. Kemtt TEN CENTS with each que#" tton 8»nd for Circular. 1126 Masonic Tempi#, Agsntit Wautad. CHlCAQO •' AGENTS' SPECIALTIES rtWIbl* IV aloTiie and detail#. It will pay root Om. K. Cbeesmau, 148 Columbuu Black, Auburn,S.*. relief for Asthma. Sold Iiy nil I n ut-'KlRIt, or by inml. 3i 8TOWKLL A COm flfrs. Ohaxifwown. Mum CANCER CURED AT HOME. No Knife. Pain or Plan*, BOOK Alll T« TWo-XIAI.S FHK*. Maaoa. Cancer Iastitnt*, 120 W. «<< St.. Bew York llnknla'terer* WANTED-Steady work aad good upnuisicrcrs waRe» for gouil men. Apply to KITTING A SWEET, Grand Rapids, Mioh. WANTED-JO MEN IM BACH STATE to travel. taclc signs and distribute circulars andsamplesof our^o. Salary $60 per month; S3 per day for eiptam. KUHLMAN CO., Dept. C-4, Atlas Block, • . CHICAGO. tEZEEB la time. 'v.- ' "L. "i."'.'V!-V' la time. Bold by dmsslsu. 3SBaanaa8EZ3