<? £mm " ~ •--^--Mmm-inr--an-- innii^aiiiiM*'**1lHff^ - " mmm COAST of CHANCli [mr €̂ r**trAr I9W 4y JWmr-smmnak. SYNOPSIS. At a private view ot tii« vjnatworth personal estate, to be said a.i auction, the Crew Idol mysteriously disappears, Harry Cressy, who was present, describes the ring to his fiancee. Flora Gilsey, and her chaperon, Mrs. Clara Britton. as being like a heathen god, with a beautiful sap phire set in the head. Flora meets Mr. lverr, an Englishman. In discussing the disappearance of the ring, the exploits of an English thief, Farrell Wand, are re called. Kerr tells Flora that he has met Harry somewhere, but cannot place him. |20,000 reward is offered tor the return of the ring. Harry takes Flora to a Chinese goldsmith's to buy an engagement ring. An exquisite sapphire set in a hoop of brt.88 iti selected Harry urges her not to w<*ar it until it is reset. The possession of th* seems to oast a spel! over Flora. She becomes uneasy and appre hensive. Flora is startled by the effect on Kerr when he gets e. glimpse of the sapphire. The possibility that the stone Is part of the Crew Idol causes Flora much anxiety. Unseen, Flora discovers Clara ransacking her dressing room. Flora refuses to give or sell the stone to Kerr, and suspects him of being the thief. Bhe decides to return the ring to Harry, but he tells her to keep it for a day or two. Ella Buller tells Flora that Clara Is setting her cap for her fattier. Judge Buller. Flora believes Harry sus pects Kerr and Is waiting to make sure of the reward before unmasking the thief. Kerr and Clara confess their love for each other. Clara Is followed by a China* man. Harry admits to Flora that he knew the ring was stolen. He attempts to take it from her. Flora goes to the San Mateo place with Mrs. Herrick and writes Kerr and Clara to come. CHAPTER XXI.--Continued. It was plain to Flora from the mo ment ghe set foot over the threshold that the house was to be no mean al ly of theirs, but Mrs. Herrick was making it help them doubly in their hard interval of waiting. Alone to gether with unspoken, unspeakable things between them--things that for mere deceny of honor could not be uttered--with nothing but these to think of, nothing but each other to talk at, they must yet, in sheer desperation and suspense, have inev itably burst out with question and confession, had not the great house been there to interpose its personali ty. And the way Mrs. Herrick was making the most of that! The way immediately, even before she had shown anything, she began to revivi fy the spirit of the place, as the two women stood with their hats not yet off in the room that was to be Flora's talking and looking out upon the lawn! « And her silence, with her expres sive self as well as with her words, Mrs. Herrick was reanimating it all the while they lunched and rested, still in the upper rooms overlooking the garden. And later, when they made the tour of the house, she be gan unwinding from her memory in cidents of its early beginnings, pieces of its intimate, personal history, as one would make a friend familiar to another friend. And these past his tories and the rooms themselves were leading Flora away out of her anxious •elf, were soothing her prying appre hensions, were giving her a detach ment in the present, till what she so anticipated lay quie'scent at the back of her brain. But it was there. And now and then, when in a gust of wind the lights and shadows danced on the dim, polished floors, it stirred; and at the sound of wheels on the drive below it leaped, and all her fears again were in her face. At such mo ments the two women did look deep- y at each other, and the suspense, the premonition, hovered in Mrs. Her- rick's eyes. It was as unconscious, ,»s involuntary, as Flora's start at the swinging of a door; but no question crossed her lips. She let the matter as severely alone as if it had been a Jewel not her own. Yet, it came to Flora all at once that here, for the first time, she was with one to whom she could have revealed the Bapphire on her neck and yet remain unchal lenged. "Ah, you're too lovely!" she burst out at last. "It is more than I deserve that you Bhould take it ail like this, as if there really wasn't anything." The elder lady's eyes wavered a little at the plain words. "I'm too deeply doubtful of it to take it any other way," she said. "That is why I feel most guilty," Flora explained. "For dragging you into it and then--bringing it into your house." She glanced around at the high, quiet, damasked room. "Such a thing to happen here!" "Ah, my dear"--Mrs. Herrick's laugh was uncertain--"the things that have happened here--the things that have happened and been endured and been forgotten! and see," she said, laying her hand on one of the walls, "the peace of it now!" Flora wondered. She seemed to feel such distances of life extending yet beyond her sight as dwindled her, tluy and innocent. "It/ isn't what happens, but the way we take it that makes the after ward," Mrs. Herrick added. The thought of an afterward had stood very dim in Flora's mind, and even now that Mrs. Herrick's words confronted her with it she couldn't fancy what it would be like. .She couldn't imagine her existence going on at all on the other side of failure. "But suppose," she tremulously urged, "suppose there seemed only one way to take what had happened to you, and that way, if it failed, would leave you no afterward at all, no peace, no courage, nothing." Mrs. Herrick's eyes fixed her with their deep pity and their deeper ap prehension. "There are few things so bad as that," she said slowly, "and those are the ones we must not touch." Flora paused a moment on the brink of her last plunge. "Do you think what I am going to do la such a thing as that?" "Oh, my poor child, how do I know? I hope, I pray it is not!" Her fingers closed on Flora's hand, and the girl clung to the kind grasp. It was a comfort, thought it could not save her from the real finality. In spite of the consciousness of a friendly presence In the house her fears increased as the mfteruocu waned, and her thoughts went back to what she had left behind her, and forward to what might be coming-- the one person whom she so longed for. and so dreaded to see. He might be on his way now. He might at this " oment be hurrying down the hedged lane from the station; and when he should come, ssd wu6u they two were face to face, there would be no other "next time" for them. Everything was crystalizing, getting hard. Every thing was getting too near the end to be malleable any more. It was her last chance to make him relinquish his unworthy purpose; perhaps his last chance to save himself from cap tivity. She found she hadn't a thing left unsaid, an argument left un used. Beyond the fact pf getting him away safe she didn't think. Beyond that nothing looked large to her, noth ing looked definite. The returning of the sapphire itself seemed simple be side it, and the fact that her position in the matter might never be ex plained of no importance. Now while every moment drew her nearer her greatest moment she grew more absent, more strained, more restless, more intently listening, more easily starting at the lightest sound; until, at last, when the late day touched the rooms with fiery sun set colors, her friend, watchful of her changing mood, ready at every point to palliate cireuuioUuiceB, drew her out into the garden. The wind, which had fallen with ap proaching evening, was only a whis per among the trees. The greenish- white bodies of statues in the shrub bery glowed ruddy. Gathering their 6kirts from the grass that glittered with the drops of the last shower, arm in arm the two women walked down the broad central gravel drive between ribbon beds of flowers. From here numerous paths paved with white stone went wandering under snowball trees and wild apple, losing themselves in Bhrubbery- But one made a clear turn across the lawn for the rose-garden, where in the midst a round pool of water lay like a flaming bit of the sunset day. Among the bushes, red and rose and white, the elder woman In her black, the young er in her gown more glowing, with a veil over her hair, walked, and, loiter ing, looked down into the water, see ing their faces reflected, and, behind. n III "Let Us Be Continental." seemed so phantasmal then, every thing she had put down as a figment of her own imagination, bad meant just this plain fact. All three of them had wanted the picture. For his own reason, Kerr had turned aside from the chase, but Harry had stood the tangled brambles and the crimson fnd now> when sky. They did not speak, but at last their companionship was peaceful, was perfect. Loud and shrill and shriller and more piercing, from the west wing of the house, overhanging the garden, the sound reached them--an alarm that set Flora's heart to leaping. Startled apart, they listened "Would that be--is that for you?" "I think it's for me." The words came from them simul taneously, and almost at the same in stant Flora had started across the lawn. The sight of an aproned maid coming out on the veranda and peer ing down the garden set her running fleetly. "It's a telephone for Miss Gilsey," the girl said. "Oh, thank you," Flora panted She knew so well the voice she had expected at the other end of the wire that the husky, boyish note which reached her, attenuated by dis tance, struck her with dismay and disappointment. "Ella, oh, yes; yes; Ella." What was she saying? Ella was using the telephone as if it were a cabinet for secrets. "Clara told me you were down there," she was explaining. '1 saw her this morning, yes. Well"--and she could hear Ella draw in her breath--'Tm so relieved! I thought you'd be, too, to know. I was per fectly right. She was arfter him." Flora faltered, "After whom?" There flashed through her mind more than one person that, by this time, Clara might possibly be after. "Why, after papa, of course!" Ella's injured surprise brought her back to the romance of Judge Buller. Her voice rose in sheer bewilderment. "Well?" Ella's voice rose triumphantly. "I got it out of her myself. I just came right out to her at last. She seemed awfully surprised that I knew; but she owned up to it, and what do you think? I bought her off!" "Bought her off?" Flora cried. Each fact that Ella brought forth seemed to her more preposterous than the last. "Why, yes, it's too ridiculous; what do you think she wanted?" At that question Flora's heart seemed fairly to stand still. That was the very question she had been ask ing herself for days, and asking in vain. Ella's voice was coming to her faint as a voice from another world. "She wanted that little, little picture--that picture of the man called Farrell Wand. Don't you remember, papa mentioned it at supper that evening at the club? Isn't It funny she remem bered it all this time? Well, she wanted it dreadfully, but Harry wanted it, too, and papa said he had promised it to Harry; but I got it first and gave it to her." Ella's voice end ed in a high note of triumph. Flora's, If anything, rose higher in despair. "Oh, Ella!" "Doesn't it seem ridiculous," Ella argued, "that If she really wanted him she'd give him up for that?" "Oh, no--I mean yes," Flora stam mered. "Yes, of course! thank you Ella, very much--very much." The last words were hardly audible. The receiver fell jangling into its bracket, and Flora leaned against the wall by the telephone and closed her eyes. For a moment all she could see was Clara with that little, little picture. How well she could remember how Clara had looked that night of the club supper! From the moment Judge Buller had spoken of the picture, how all three of them had changed, Clara and Ken- finally the prize had been assured to him, Clara had it! V At this moment she had It in her band. At this moment she knew what was the aspect of the figure in the pic ture, whether it showed a face, and, if a face, whose. Flora's hands open ed and closed. "Oh," she whispered to the great silence of the great house awaiting him; "where is he? Why Isn't he here?" All those terrible things which might be happening beyond her reach processioned before her. Had Clara already snapped the trap of the law upon Kerr? And if she hadn't yet, what could be done to hold her off? Flora turned again to the tele phone. Slowly she took down the re ceiver and gave into the bright mouth piece of the instrument the number of her own house. Presently the voice of Shima spoke to her. Mrs. Britton had gone out to dinner. "Tell her, Shlma," Flora command ed, "tell her to come down on the earliest train." She hesitated, then finished in a firm voice. "Tell her not to do anything until she has seen me." Shima would tell her--but Mrs. Britton had been out all day. He did cot know when she would be back. The words sounded ominous in Flora's ears. She turned away. Was everything to be finished just as she had light enough to move, but before sho had a chance? The sound of spinning wheels on the drive started her to fresh hope, and sent her hurrying down the stair. It was the phaeton returning from the last train. Through the open door she saw the figure of Mrs. Herrick expec tant on the veranda. Then the car riage came into the porte-cochere and passed. With a rush she reached the veranda, and stood there looking after it. She wouldn't believe her eyes-- she couldn't--that it had returned again empty. Mrs. Herrick's voice was asking her, "What shall we do? Shall we serve dinner now. or wait a little longer?" "Oh, It's no use," Flora murmured, "he won't come to-night. He'll never come." She drooped against the tall porch pillar. "My poor child!" Mrs. Herrick took her passive hand. If she read in the profound discouragement of Flora's face that something more had trans pired than a mere non-appearance, she did not show It, but waited, alert and quiet, while they gazed together out over the darkening garden. It was the time of twilight when the sky Is so much brighter than the earth. Across the lawns between the bushes from hedge to hedge the veil of the obscuring light was coming in; and through it the avenue of willows marched darkly. Their leaves moved a little. Flora watched the ripple of their tops, clear on the bright sky, and deeper down among mysterious branches there was a sense of move ment where the eyes could not see. There was a curious flick, flick, flick er--a progression, a passing from the far dark end of the willow avenue to ward where it met the vista of the drive. -Flora's eyes, absently, involun tarily, followed the movement. She felt Mrs. Herrick's hand suddenly close on hers. "Is tome one coming?" They clung to each other, peering timorously down the drive. A little gust of wind took the garden, and be fore the trees had ceased to tremble and whiten & man had emerged from their shadow and was advancing upon them up the middle of the drive. Flora's heart leaped at sight of him. All her Impulse *as to fly to meet him, and Harry. Everything that had j but she felt Mrs. Herrick's hand tightr en upon her wrist as if it divined her madness. His light stick aswing in his hand, his step free and incautious as ever, gray and slender and seeming to look more at the ground than at them, the two women watched him drawing near. His was the seeming of a quiet guest at the quietest of house parties. To meet him FI*>ra saw she must meet him on the high ground of his reserve. As he came under the light of the porte-cochere his look, his greeting, his hand, were first for Mrs. Herrick. "We were afraid we had missed you altogether," said she. "It was I who somehow missed your carriage, was hardly expecting to be expected at such an hour." Flora watched them meeting each other so gallantly with a trembling compunction. Mrs. Herrick, who trusted her, was giving her hand in sublime ignorance. It was vain that Flora told herself she had given warn ing. She knew she had thrown the softening veil of her spiritual crisis over the ugly material fact. Had she said, "I want you tq uphold me while I meet a thief whom I love and wish to protect. He's magnificent In all other ways except for this one ob session," she knew Mrs. Herrick sim ply would have cried, "Impossible, out rageous!" Yet there they stood to gether, and as Flora looked at them she could not have told which was of the finer temper. Kerr's bearing was so unruffled that It seemed as If he had flown too high to feel the storm Flora was passing through. But when he turned toward her, in spite of himself, there was eagerness in his manner. He looked questioningly at her, as If no time had Intervened, as if a moment before he had said to her through the carriage window, "I will give you 24 hours," and now her time had come to speak. Only the thought that time was crowding him into a bag's end gave her courage to vow she would speak that night. Yet not now, while they stood just met In the deepening dusk, In the sweet breath of the early flow ers; nor later when they passed in friendly fashion, the three of them, through fairy labyrinths of arch and mirror, into the long:, high, glistening room, whose round table, spread, seemed dwarfed to mushroom height; nor yet, while this semblance of com panionship was between them, and the great proportions of the place lifting oppression, left them as un conscious of walls and roof as though they were met in the open. The clock twice marked the passing hour. She had never heard Mrs. Herrick speak so flowingly nor Kerr listen so well, placing his questions nicely to draw out .the thread of her theme. Yet Flora guessed his thought must be fixed on their approaching moment, as hers was--on the moment when they should be ready to quit the table and Mrs. Herrick would leave them to themselves. It was the appearance of the aproned maid that broke their unity. The last course was on the table, the last taste of its pungent fruit essence on their tongues--and what was the rttrl's errand now? The eye of her mistress was Inquiring. "Some one has come, Mrs. Herrick." The woman's proper formula seemed t*> fail her. She looked as if she had been frightened. "Some one?" Mrs. Herrick showed asjferity. "What name?" "He is coming in." As she spoke the girl shrank a little to one side. With his long coat open, hanging from the armpits, with ruffled hair, and lips apart, and from breathless- n*>tn a little smiling, Harry appeared in Vhe doorway. Kerr leaned forward. Mr*. Herrick did not move. She was facing the last arrival and she was sml>ing more flexibly, more naturally, than Harry; but it was flora who found the first word. "You! I--I thought It was Clara." She was struggling for nonchalance, for poise, at this worst blow so un expected. "Clara won't be down," Harry Baid advancing. "Hew d'ye do, Mrs. Her rick? How d'ye do, Kerr?" "How d'ye do?" said the English man, without risir". Flora gripped the arms of her chair to keep from springing up in shee^ nervous terror. A possible purpose 'n Harry's coming, that even Mrs. Her rick's presence would not defer, shot through her mind. Was he alon^? Or were there others--men here for a fearful purpose--waiting beyond in the hall? Rut Harry had turned his back upon the door behind him with a finality that declared whatever dan ger had come into the house was com plete in his presence. "I've dined, thanks," he said, but, stripping off his greatcoat, accepted a chair and the glass of cordial Mrs. Herrick offered him. The ruddy, hard quality of his face, were it d'.vested of its present smile, Flora thought, might well have frightened the maid; but, for all that, it was not so im- I placable as Kerr's face confronting it. The look with which he met the in trusion had a quality more bitter than the challenge of an antagonist, more jealous than a mere lover's; and that bitterness, that jealousy which was between them came out stingingly through their small pleasantness. It could not be, Flora thought in terror, that Mrs. Herrick Intended to leave these two enemies to each other! Mrs. Herrick had risen; and Flora, follow ing, saw both men, also uprisen, hang hesitatingly, as if unready fo be de serted: yet with well-filled glasses, and newly smoking tocbaco, 'both were caught. Then Kerr, with a quick dash of his hand, picked up his glass. "Let us he continental," he begged, anrt followed close at Flora's side. Without moving his lips Kerr was speakiDg "What does this mean?" She sensed the anger lit his smoth ered voice, but she dared sot look at him. "I have no idea; but I wlU see you." "When?" Her answer leaped to he** mind and her lips at the same moment. "In the rotunda when the house Is quiet." Harry had followed leisurely in their wake. The flush 0t haste had subsided In his face, and when the four regrouped themselves in the high, darkly-paneled room, among the low lights. Flora remarked his ex traordinary composure. Bitter he might be; but all the nervousness, sus picion. uneasiness, that he had shown of late had vanished. There was a tremendous confidence about him, the confidence of the player who holds cards that must win the game, and sits back waiting for his momeqt. But she was ready to laugh at him in his security. He had underesti mated his opponent. In spite of him she was to have her meeting with Kerr! Harry had waited too long to prevent that, whatever he might do afterward. In this inspired moment she felt herself touching conquering heights which before she had only touched in imagination. She felt enough power in herself to move even such a mountain of obstinacy as Kerr. She stole a look at him--a look of glad intelligence. He understood as If she had spoken. They were to meet, while all the house slept fast, to meet for his great renunciation. Then, in the morning, when Harry was ready with whatever move he was holding back, Kerr would be gone. There would be no Kerr--but she must not think of that! She glanced at him again in the thick of the talk, and caught his eye upon her, puzzled, and, she thought, with a glimmer of doubt. She smiled; and smiled again at the ease with which she reassured him, merely by looking at him. He should see, in the end, how true she could be! In the room where, some eight hours before, she and Mrs. Herrick had talked, Flora waited, fully dressed. It had been early when they had sepa rated. The strain of the four togeth er bad been terrific; and she was still feeling it, though an hour had pa&ed. She was feeling that, now her situa tion was upon her, she was alone. Mrs. Herrick could only be near her, not with her, and Kerr was still an un known quantity--except that he was fire. And there was Harry, with his ter rible certainty, and no apparent thing to account for it. It could not be there were men in the house without the servants remarking It; but In the garden? She peered out upon it. Only tree shadows moved upon the lawn. Nothing glimmered in the walks or drives. The solitude held her like an enchantment. She listened for the small sounds In the house to cease, for the lights in the lower story to go out, proclaiming all the servants were In bed. Even after the stillness she waited--waited to be sure It was the long stillness. FInaiiy she crept to the door and opened it boldly wide. She stood wh^re she was upon the threshold trembling in a cruel fright. A gas-jet burning far up at the end of the hall, threw a dim light down the pale, pinkish, naked vista, void of furniture, window or curtain; and, leaning against the blank wall almost opposite her door, and directly facing her, was Harry. Without speaking they looked at each other. He was fully dressed, but lacking his shoes, as she noted in the acuteness of her startled senses. The furtive suggestion of those shoeless feet struck her with horror--formless, unreasoning. It was like an evil dream to find him there, stolen to her door In the night, waiting outside It without a sound, looking her steadily, hardily In the eye without a word. She tried to speak, but, with terror sobbing in her throat, the words failed. She made a step forward with a crazy impulse to rush past him. He straightened, with a quick move ment toward her. She recoiled before him, precipitately retreated, closed the door, shot the bolt, and leaned, for faintness, against the wall. She ex pected each moment to hear him tap. She neither heard a knoek nor the sound of soft, departing feet He was still thart! Be was on guard! He had had gocd reason for his terrible cer tainty' He had foreseen what her plan raight be, and she knew he would no more let her get past him down the Kali than the turnkey will let the wretched prisoner escape. CHAPTER XXII. Clara's Market. All night she sat awake huddled un der her greatcoat in the chilly dark ness. She could not lie down, she could not close her eyes. At long in tervals she heard the tread of unshod feet along the hal5. and then she held her breath lest at her slightest stir they approached her door. Why, since he wanted the sapphire, hadn't he tried to get it from her when he had ha«i her unawares, upon her threshold with the house asleep? It began to se^m to hor as if he were waiting, as it he were forced to wait, for some ap pointed moment. She knew if it were his moment it would be hers, too, as long as she had the sapphire upon her. She recalled fearfully the mo ment when she had crouched against the window with her hand protecting the jewel, and Harry's hand grasping her wrist. He would know well enough where to find it now. Oh, the restless unconcealable thing! Where could | she hide it? i She took the pear-shaped pouch J that swung always before her on he long gold chain. She had repudiate)! that hiding-place before, but now th more obvious the better--now tha both men supposed she carried th jewel far hidden out of sight. With out removing from the bed where she was crouched, cramped and cold, she made the exchange, leaving the chain still around her neck, dropping the Jewel into the pouch, where it would swing free, so carelessly dangling as to be beyond suspicion, but never be yond the reach of her hand. It was a pale, splendid dawning full of clouds when she fell asleep. Broad sunlight filled her room when she was awakened by a knocking at her door. She sprang from the bed and went to it. She was not to be come In upon by any unwelcome vis itor. But it was Mrs. Herrick; and Flora, with a murmur of relief, since this was the one person she did want to see, drew her inside. "Why, my child, you haven't slept, at least not properly." Mrs. Herrick herself looked anxious and weary. "I've come to tell you that Mrs. Brit ton Is here She came an hour ago.** "Where Is she?" "In the breakfast-room with Mr. Creasy." "Oh," Flora cried, "you know I didn't expect them. I didn't want them. It wasn't for them I asked you to come." "But can't you tell me what it la you're afraid of?" the other urged. "Between us can't we prevent It? Is there nothing I can do to help you?" "Ah, If you knew how much you have already helped me by just being here." Her companion laughed a little. "Can't I do something more active than that?" Flora pondered. "Where is Mr. Kerr?" "In the garden, in the willow walk.** "Do you think you can manage that the others don't get at him?" "I can; if he doesn't want to get at them," Mrs. Herrick replied. "Against a man like that, my dear." she aimed it gravely at Flora, "one can do noth ing." But Flora had no answer for the warning. "I must see Clara Immedi ately," she said. "But not without breakfast," Mrs. Herrick protested. "I will send you up something. Remember that she never abuses herself, so she's always fresh--and so she's always equal to the occasion." Mrs. Herrick went. Flora looked Into the mirror. Almost for the first time in ten days she thought of her appearance. If It was, as Mrs. Her rick said, a factor of success, some thing must be done for It, for It was dreadful. The best she could do re vived a pale replica of the vivid crea ture who had been wont to regard her from her glass. Yet her black gown, thin and trailing far behind her, and her hair wound high, by very force of their contrasted color, gave her a real brilliance as they gave her a seeming height. But she descended to the breakfast-room with trepida tion, and stood a full minute before the door gathering courage to go in. When she did open rt, it was so suddenly that both occupants faced her with a start. They were stand ing close together, and between them, on the glare of the white table-cloth, lay a little heap of gold. As they peered at her she saw that both were highly excited, but In Clara It showed like a cold sparkle; In Harry It gloomed like a menace. His hand hovered, clenched, above the mone/ in a panic of irresolution: then, as if with an involuntary relax of nerves, opened and let fall one last piece of gold. Like a flash the whole disap peared in a sweep of Clara's hand. It passed before Flora's eyes like a prestidigitator's trick, so rapid as to seem unreal, and left her staring. Har ry gave Clara a look, half suspicious, half entreating; and then, to Flora's astonishment, turned away without a word to either of them. Clara stood still, even after the door had closed upon Harry, and odd ly, and rather horribly, she wore the same aspect she had worn the day when she had looked intently and ab- aurbedly upon the rifled contents Flora's room. (TO BE CONTINUED ) *ik •,'* N% -4 " By Lydia EPrafcham's Vegetable Componjsd De Forest, Wis.--- t "After an opera tion four years ago I bad pains down ed in both sides,, backache, and &• weakness. The doe- tor wanted me to ^ have another opera- 15 OH*. I took JLytiia E~ ;- Finkaam's V egeta-! ; \]bie Compound and i ' 'ii &m «ut»r-*l7 cured•. •L--Jof my troubles.'3--- , Mrs. Attgtjste Yespeksiavis, D*» For-; est, Wisconsin. 1 Another Overall ok AvoMed. Kew Orleans, La.--"Tot years I suf fered from severe female trouble®. Finally I was confined to my bed and the doctor said an operation was neces sary. I gave Lydia E. Pinkhacj's Vest- etable Compound ft trial first, and , was saved from an operation." -- Mrs. Lily Peykoux, 1111 Kerlerec St, New Orleans, La. Thirty years of unparalleled success confirms the power of Lydia E. Pink- ham's Vegetable Compound to euro female diseases. The great volume of unsolicited testimony ccnstaiitlypo tir ing in proves conclusively that Lydia E. Pinkham's Vegetable Compound is a remarkable remedy for those dis-; tressing feminine ills from which so * many women suffer. j If you want special advice about your case write to Mrs. Pinkhaav•; at Lynn, Mass. Her advice 1** free, and always helpful. PARKER'S HAm BALSAM and tfc« h»fe ;>ora.>t€a a lBzoiiaut |Trow!i. Hever FaHu to Beetose QtWf Hair to itts ToutS.fi: I Color. Mrip di*M«s * hrit isUSnis. i VOV INVEST IN A <iOI l> >11VH to! In the nobest goldflpl.d ci '*>*? Ncrth- irnt? Writ a for prospectus. Boston Oon Wttlng Do., 1 Madison Are., New York City. n g VPUTO WafwK.OllilMlWWfc PlItiiTSstô r îSa DIMNCi CAR CONDUCTORS, P5--*135. B*- perienoe nnneoosnary. We ta&cb y©«. Writ* • I' I $, - f r . : • i If afflicted with ] •or« ejrM, qm j Thompson's Eyt Water J§ W. N. U., CHICAGO, NO. 40-1910. ; Lover's Wedding Cake. J Four pounds of flour of love, half » pound of buttered youth, half a |» «nd * of good looks, half a pound of sweet " temper, half a pound of self-forgetful- | ness, half a pound of powdered wita ^ half an ounce of dry humor, two tabled, spoonfuls of sweet argument, half • pint of rippling laughter, half a wia»- glassful of common sense. Then put the flour of love, go&d^ looks and sweet temper into a well- furnished house. Beat the butter of ^ youth to a cream. Mix together blind-v ness of faults, self-forgetfulness, pow-, dered wits, dry humor Into sweet argu ment, then add them to the above.. Pour in gently rippling laughter and common sense. Work It together un- til all Is well mixed, then bake gently; forever. Hence tha Name. In the service of a Baltimore fam ily is an old negro cook known as Aunt Sally, and not the least of her achlevementa ia the preparation of sea. food. In the kitchen one day Aunt Sally's nephew, a nine-year-old lad from a point where crabs are seldom seen, was watching In breathless interact the old lady's deviling of a disk of such crustaceans. "Aunty," said he, after much reflec tion upon this mysterious point, "does debbll crabs come from de debblir' "No, chile," promptly responded Aunt Sally; "but dey la de debbll to make." Expecting Too Much. It was a cold, raw day, but tfc* Neversweats and the Fearnoughts were playing a game of ball on the prairie, Just the same. The pitcher of the Neversweats, &ls Angers half frozen, failed dismally la getting the balls over the plate. "Aw," said the captain. "I t'ou*ht ye wvist one o' dese cold weathsr pitchers! " "I am," said the slab artist, blow ing on his benumbed digits to warm them, "but I ain't a ice pitcher, blaiM: ye!" • •m Hewitt--My wife can score a base ball game. Jewett--Woman ia rapidly usurping man's place in the world. An Attractive Food Post T oasties So Crisp So Flavoury So Wholesome So Convenient So Economical So why not order a package from Grocer. Postum Cereal Co., Ltd. Battle Greek, Mich. ' • ? j: