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THE SUNNY SOUTH. ATLANTA. GA„ SATURDAY MORNING. SEPTEMBER 24.18S7,
For (be Suhny SonTH.
M oCHHi ouiim.
AN AMERICAN PENMANf
A Great Detective Story.
FROM THE DIARY OF INSPECTOR BYRNES.
BY JULIAN HAWTHOBNE.
[Copyrighted 1887. All rights reserved.]
CHAPTER V.
These thoughts passed through the count’s
Bind in an instant. The next instant the
princess gave him his cue “I am most happy.’
she said, in the melodious voice he knew so
well, “to make the acquaintance of the Count
Fedovsky.”
It was e indent, then, that she did not wish
their American friend to be made privy to the
past relations between them. Before him, at
all events, they were to act as if they were
really the strangeis to each other that he must
suppose them to be. That she desired this se
crecy was interpreted by Fedovsky as a good
sign. It pointed to a prospect that their for
mer relations were to be hereafter recalled, if
not renewed. And, as a momeut's reflection
showed him, Vera must have been prepared
for this interview. It was no sudden surprise
to her, as it had been to him. Mr. Willis had
of course mentioned his name to her some time
before, and she had had his caid for live min
ute before presenting herself. She had con
sidered what course to pursue, and it was for
him to follow her lead He uttered a few con-
ventional words, therefore, and the first shock
of the meeting was over.
In the conversation which ensued, and which
was carried on in French, Mr. Willis took part,
and it was of a sufficiently common-place char
acter. But il the things that were said were
devoid of special interest, the inner significance
of it all was deeply Interesting to Fedovsky.
lie beard meanings in the tones of Vera’s voice
that seemed to li .m as plain as speech would
have been. She spoke with her looks, with her
movements, with her pauses, with her swift
smi es and glances. He responded in like man
ner; it was like a beautiful allegory or sy m
bolic plaj. They renewed their past; they in
dicated the vicissitudes that had taken place;
they foreshadowed what nrght be to come, and
all without speaking a single explanatory word.
It was not a narrativo of events that they were
conveying to each other, but of mental and
emotional growth and change. Fedovsky was
rejoiced, though scarcely surprised, to find that
their relative attitude still remained nearly the
same. The boy that he once was could not
have known how to love the woman that she
was now; but that woman was singularly
adapted to harmonize with the finished man of
the world that he had becomo. What matter
the minor details? They had taken a long
plunge beneath the waters of life and bad no w
found each other again, at a great distance, in
deed, from their former place, but not less
united than before in sympathy and feeling.
From what few remarks about herself the
princess actually let fall, Fedovsky gathered
that she had married Prince Volgoronki about
live years before. If this were the case, it fol
lowed that her first husband, tho rascally over
seer, must have died soon after his disappear
ance from Russia. What the events were that
had brought about the second union Fedovsky
could only conjecture. He surmised that some
paiuful passages must, have taken place. Be
that as it might, they were over now, and she
was free again—free and wealthy. There
would be ample opportunity to determine what
he and she were to be to each other in the
future.
After this situation had lasted about an hour
Mr. Willis inquired whether Signor and Mine.
Strogello were expected that evening. The
princess replied that she had sent them no spe
cial invitation, but remarked'that they might
be able to come if the suggestion were made to
them. The personages in question were the
Italian diplomatist and his wife, of whom Wil
lis had previously tpoken to Fedovsky. Willis
now offered to go and bring them, to which
Vera, altera glance at the count, offered no ob
jection. In truth they were hoth eager to em
brace the opportunity of private communion
winch tbe^Amertcan’s temporaly absence would
VVfflis took bis bat and went off, promising
tore urn shortly. When be was gone, Vera
left her chair and seated herself beside Fedov
sky on the lounge. She was perceptibly moved,
and for a few moments she looked at him in
tently without saying anything, her bosom ris
ing and falling with an uneven motion.
•‘I thank you,” she said at length, “for not
having permitted Mr. Willis to suspect that we
have known each other before. Never lei him
or any one else suspect it. You will know the
reasons later.” Sue broke off and folded her
hands nervously in her lap. “Ah, is it really
you?” she exclaimed, her voice falling almost
to a whisper.
“And are you glad to see me? ’ whispered
the count.
“Glad I If you could only know! And yet
perhaps I ought not to be glad. So much has
happened! If we had only met sooner. II.
seems so strange now; sc ” She broke off
again and looked away. “Tell me, have you
married?’’ she asked suddenly, fixing her eyes
upon him.
Fedovsky shook his head. “I have never
met but one woman whom 1 should have wished
to marry,” he replied. “I am not a mau of
many fancies.”
“Ah, do not blame me; I have not been hap
py,” said she, wilh a deprecating gesture of
her hand. As sue made toe movemeut F'edov-
aky no iced upon her linger a peculiar ring—a
signet of antique workmanship set in massive
gold. It was the same ring that he had given
her as a pledge of their betrothal more than
■even years before. She had kept it, through
all changes, ever since. It was a trifle, per
haps, but its effect upon him was deep. It
made him feel as if, after all and through all,
be had never quite lost his bold upon her heart.
“A woman like me can do little to control
her own fate,” she continued. “You know
how I was forced into that first marriage. Yet
I did not yield, even then, until I had been
made to believe that you, too, had been per
suaded to give yourselt to another. That
thought left me indifferent to everything. I
hoped to die; but deatli does not come merely
because we believe ourselves ready to take leave
of life. That man drew me down from unhap
piness to degradation. After the revelation of
bis rascality I became reckless. I ceased to
regret or to thiuk, and tried to exist only for
the passing moment. In those days I forgot,
or fancied that I had forgotten, that I had ever
known you.”
Her voice faltered—how vividly Fedovsky
recollected that tremulous, sinking note—and
tears glistened in her eyes. But iu a moment,
with a swiftness that was characteristic of all
her movements, mental aud physical, she re
covered herself and went on.
“If that had continued much longer I don’t
know what 1 might have become. But ilcitne
to an end, so suddenly that I could not myself
realize that it was indeed ended. I thought
that I should awake and find all the old trouble
still there. One does not soon get over having
been the wife of a—thief!”
“He was shot in attempting to make an es
cape No! I cannot even now speak of that
dreadful affair, aud nothing in it was more
dreadful than my joy that it had happened,
for there was no doubt that the man had loved
me, with such love as was in him. If he had
hated me I think I should have felt less miser
able. But, at all events, I was free, and at
first I could sec nothing that was not delightful
in my freedom. I had a few thousand roubles
and some jewelry—enough to live on for a
while. But of course I Should have starved to
death at last, or come to some worse end, had
I not met with a far better fortune than 1 ever
hoped for or deserved.”
“It must have been then that I dreamed you
were in peril,” muttered Fedovsky, who sat
with bis head leaning on his haud, painfully
absorbed in this recital.
“I had advertised to give singing lessons.”
she continued. “F ir a long time there had
been no response, but on the very morning
that I had resolved to cease incurring what
seemed a fruitless expense, I received a letter
from the secretary of the I*rince Volgorouki.
I went to his hotel and was admitted to an in
terview with him. He was a venerable old
man, with a noble face. He asked me about
myself. I told him what I could. I could not
bring myself to tell him all. He seemed satis
fied, and told me that he wished me to train a
little girl, his granddaughter. She was the only
descendant left to him; his wife and his only
daughter were dead. The arrangement was
made, and I entered his household in that ca
pacity. The little girl was in delicate health.
We traveled from place to place. In summer
we went for a month or two to Moscow, but
the winter was spent in Italy and along the
Mediterranean coast. One spring we stayed
in the south too long, and the child caught the
fever. I took care of her; I loved the little
thing. But in the autumn she died. The
prince was broken down by her death. When
I spoke of taking leave of him he would not
hear of my going. I was truly sorry for him,
but I told him that I could not stay. At last
be asked me if I would marry him. He said
be had not long to live; that he did not expect
me to love him; that he himself was too old
and broken to think of the love of passion; but
that he bad grown to depend upon my pres
ence, and that I was associated in his mind
with his grandchild, and that to give me his
name would be but a slight return for the com
fort of having me with him. Such an offer
was too honorable and too delicate to .be
turned aside, but I felt that he had a right to
know first what my past life had been, and I
told him all that I had not told before. He
heard me through, looking at me all the time
with his great eyes, and then he slid that I
must still be his wife. He lived for three
years after that, and I was a faithful wife to
him, and lie treated me always with tenderness
and respect. He died eighteen months ago,
and his will enables me to live in independence
for the rest of my life, as you see; but there
are few people whom I know, and it is only
w.thin a few months that I have come back to
the world at all.”
This story was told with occasional lapses
and interruptions; sometimes she seemed lost
in recollections; sometimes she spoke with her
intent gaze fixed upon her listener’s faco.
Sometimes she chafed one white band over the
other or interlaced her fingers and drew them
slowly spart. But at the end she rose sudden
ly and walked up the room and back, pressing
her handkerchief to her eyes, her rich dress
rustling as Bhe stepped. These reminiscences
of the past, combined with the present situa
tion, had evidently wrought her up to a high
pitch.
“Well, we have met at last,” said Fedovsky
at length; “but, of all places in the world, I
should lesst have expected to find you here.”
“I have ceased being surprised at myself, at
what happens to me or at what I do,” was her
reply. “My career has taught me one thing,
that I cannot control either events or actions.
It is not what I expect or what I wish that oc
curs, but something different. If you had sent
uie word that you intended coming here I
should have told you not to come.”
“Why so? Do you fear any harm from me?”
“That is not the reason. But harm may
como.”
“I don’t understand,” said Fedovsky.
“The best I can hope is that you never will.”
“Are you in any trouble? Can 1 help you?”
“Can any human being ever help another?
I doubt it. Here are we ’wo, alono together
in this room. It seems . f we might do any
thing that we chose. What is to prevent my
speaking a few words to you—a dozen words
would be eflough—and then putting my hand
in yours and leaving the country forever?”
“Doit!” exclaimed Fedovsky with energy.
"Whatever the trouble may be, come! Trust
to me!” He rose to his fiet as he spoke, and
held out his hand.
Sue bent her head a little and looked at him
from beneath her brows, which were unusual
ly broad and level. The color in her cheeks
which hail till now been faint, deepened ami
Bpread. She was visibly moved and seemed
to be wavering on the brink of a decision.
She was an imaginative as well as a passionate
woman, and such women are capable of daring
and unpri csdeuted acts; but she also possessed
a cold aud critical intellect, and this was usu
ally able to couuterbalance the other elements
of her nature. The only wav to control her
was to give her no time to ritiect. Fedovsky
made the mistake of omitting ,v>_ press his ad
vantage. IIs was in earnest*, 7jje moment
arhi.Lacx.tcnvU'S.-o'WiWfouipns repeating ana
Pillowing up his appeal, tile suoutd have
cauglt her in his arms and L^jried her beyond
her discretion, until it was ton ute for her to
retreat. But the habit of indifference which
he had acquired during the lat er years opera
ted even now when he was not indifferent, and
so he lost her. Indeed, he was so entirely in
the dark as to what motives and considerations
weie operating in her mind that it is small
wonder he fai ed to act decisively.
“How can you be sure that I may trust
you?” she said, turning away. “Circumstan
ces would affect you as they do all other hu
man beings. I can trust no one. I shall stay
here. You are free to go or stay, as you
please.”
“I shall stay,” he replied. “If you will not
tell me what constrains you, I shall do my best
to find out for mjself. Aud when 1 know all
I shall repeat what I have said. I care more
for you than for any circumstances.”
“Here comes my guests,” she said, as the
bell sounded. “You and I are strangers again.
These people bore me, but they are the only
ones I happen to know here. A little gossip, a
little tea, a little card playing—these are my
diversions'.”
She laughed with a sort of melancholy mock
ery, and the door opened to admit Signor aud
Mme. Strogello, followed by Mr. Willis.
CHAPTER VI.
Signor Strogdio was a large-bodied, smooth
faced, elderly personage, with a round head
covered with short gray hair, a pair of very
shiny spectacles on his small aquiline nose,
and a thin-lipped mouth, which was constantly
working itself into the semblance of a courte
ous and complaisant smile, lie was full of po
lite little bows and gestures, aud seemed to
be inspired with an unfailing fund of gayety
and sociability. He wore a dress coat faced
with satin, with the blue and red ribbons of
some order in the buttonhole, and a white
waistcoat with three buttons formed each ef a
single carbuncle; a fourth sparkled in the cen
ter of his shirt front. His hands were thick
and rather short, but the stubby fingers were
decorati d with a number of rings. Madame
Strogello was a tail and angular woman of
about 10 yeat s of age, gaunt and harsh of fea
ture, and of taciturn and reticent behavior.
Her ejes were small, black and observant; her
dress was sumptuous rather than tasteful.
This couple entered arm iu arm, and after
making their obeisance to the hostess, and be
ing presented to the count, they proceeded to
ei, ter upon the social duties of the evening.
Mr. Willis and Maiaiue Strogello gradually
drew apart with the princess, while the Italian
diplomat devoted himself to the count.
Fedovsky soon discovered that his interlo
cutor was a wed informed and entertaining in
dividual. He had visited most of the capitals
of Europe, and mentioned famidarly the names
of the great personages there.
“Yes, I have lived a busy and interesting
life,” he said. “1 have mingled much in af
fairs and with the men who conduct the dts
tiny of empires. But, as old age comes on, I
discover that the true pleasures of life are to
be foundjvtthm the social and domestic circle.
Toe relations are not less varied and amusing,
an 1 they are far more sincere and genuine.
Tae results of our activity may be less wide
spread and sensational, hut are they less effec
tive, are they less vital? Everything is rela
tive, and doubtless the simple peasant, who
looks back upon his little round of duties aud
obligations faithfully and cheerfully performed,
experiences a contentment that might well be
envied by the Napoleons and Jlismarcks of his
tory, who have wrest ed with the great world,
and who, sooner or later, sustain defeat, disap
pointment, or humiliation. It has been said
that war and diplomacy are like a game of
chest; I concede it, and I allow that a game of
chess or of cards is like diplomacy and war,
with all the harsher and coarser features elim
inated, and only the abstract elements re
main.”
“ There is no reason, however,” remarked
Fedovsky, who was amused at this grandilo
quence, “why the abstract and the actual
should not both be enjoyed. Napoleon and
Bismarck need not pos pone chess and cards
until tlwf have ceased to direct the affairs of
Europe. ”
“No doubt” returned S gnor Strogello, “the
greater may include the less; but I only in-
tendeu to convey that the retired statesman
may renew in the harmless social diversion of
the carl table the pleasures and vicissitudes of
his public career.”
The most ardent statesman might find ex
citement at Mi nte Carlo, I should suppoee,”
Fedovsky observed. “M. Blanc seems to
make a very effective deputy l’rovideuce.”
“For myself,” said the Italian, 1 1 confess I
care nothing for-gadtblipg—for the public
'gantMTng of thefllsino, thatds to ear. flu the
social circle it is another mattei; no one ob- a
jects to winning or losing a few hundred francs
with friends. But perhaps yoi ate of an op
posite opinion?”
“To tell the truth, I don’t know that I have
come to any final conclusion about the mat
ter,” said Fedovsky, smiling. “I came here
to find out what gambling was like. I found it
was a good deal like burning bank notes in ,a
candle or throwing gold into the sea. My cu
riosity is satisfied, and that is the end of it, so
far as I am concerned.”
“Exactly! But as regards the sccial and
friendly game, that, I presume, is not included
iu your very reasonable antipathy to the ex
cuses of the public gaming table?”
“Well, I suppose not; but I repeat that I
know little or nothing about cards, and I doubt
if I have ever played a dozen games in my
life.”
“Then, my dear count, I assure you that
you have missed a great resource and pleasure.
It will give me genuine satisfaction to be the
means of introducing you to it. ”
“I shall be very happy," replied Fedovsky,
politely. But politeness was not the true, or,
at any rate, the oRly cause of his assent. Ills
nerves and emotions were in a state of unu
sual excitement and he felt a pressing need for
some distraction. Cards would serve, in de
fault of anything better, and he waB in a mood
to use them for all they -were worth. His
thoughts were dwelling with such intensity
upon his recent interview with Vera that he
would have submitted even to a surgical oper
ation as a means of abating their concentra
tion.
The proposition to have a little game was
made, and met. with a favorable acceptance
from the company. A table was drawn out,
the cloth removed and a servant dispatched
for a pack of cards, there being, apparently,
none in the house. Vera, somewhat to Fedov-
sky’s relief, excused herself from playing, and
the other four took their places. Fedovsky
having Mme Strogello as a partner, the signor
himself, though taking part with Mr. Willis
against him, acting as his benevolent in
structor. After some discussion, however, the
game finally decided on was poker, as being at
once easily learned and interesting, and one in
which each player played for his own hand.
No chips were to be had, go Mr. Willis rapidly
cut up little squares of paper of different colors
to meet the need of the moment. While all
this was going on Vera employed herself in
making tea, which she did after the Russian
recipe, and capital tea it was. Signor Stro
gello produced a package of cigarettes, which
were smoked by all present except Mr. Willis,
who asked permission to smoke a cigar. Tea
and tobacco are admirable social stimuli, and
the party were soon chatting together with
freedom and animation. Half a dozen hands
were played, during which Fedovsky’s instruc
tion proceeded. Then he declared himself
prepared to attempt the contest on his own un
aided responsibility.
“You’d better not be too rash,” Willis re
marked, as he dealt out the cards; “potter is
easy enough in one way; but there’s a good
deal to be learned after you know all the rules.
Isn’t that so, signor?”
"I can affirm it with confidence,” the latter
replied. “Yes, I would counsel M. le Comte
not to venture anything this evening. We
should be taking an advantage.”
“That is easily arranged.” remarked Mme.
Strogello. “We can play for one franc points,
or even for the chips only.”
“Yes, yes! That will be best!” exclaimed
her husband and Mr. Willis.
“I beg to object,” returned the count, de
cidedly. “All we want is a little amusement,
and there is no amusement in p aying for bits
of paper. Come, I will wager that I get the
better of you! Lot us say ten francs tor the
white chips and twenty for the red. A Hons!
I challenge you all!”
lie looked up laughingly, and, as he did so,
caught the eye of Vera who was standing be
hind Mini. Strogello, and was fixing a stiauge-
iy intent gaze upon him. Her straight eye
brows were drawn slightly together, and her
lips were pressed together. The look startled
Fedovsky a little, though he could not compre
hend the significance of it. He supposed t hat
she, like himself, was secretly pre-occupied
with their late conversation. But it was to
escape thought that he was now engaged; and,
with an effort, he looked away and turned his
mind upon the game. The others had, with
more or less reluctance and deprecation, ac
cepted his proposal. They begau to play.
The tyro’s luck, which F edovsky had
t’Jsrw hitnse” '.nth
v^as remarkable,
tho majority of the
him. Willis twisted his mustache Hud shrug
ged his shoulders humorously. Signor Stro
gello politely felicitated himself on the profi
ciency of his pupil. Madame declared, rather
plaintively, tliat she was convinced M. le Com
te was making a fool of them, and that he
was, in fact, a poker player of long standing
and ripe experience. As for Vera, she retired
to the piano in the corner of the room ai.d be
gan to play and to sing in an undertone. The
delicious harmonies of her voice welled and
trembled through the apartment ami disturbed
Fedovsky not a littlo, for it reminded him of
passionate and happy days now gone by for
ever. lie became excited, and demanded
higher play.
“I will pRty more carefully,” he said, “aud
and then I shall be sure to lose! And in order
to set things straight the quicker let us raise
the chips to 100 and 200 francs each. Mme.
Strogello shall acknowledge that I am an even
greater ignoramus than I profess myself to
be!”
“Whether you are a poker player or not, at
any rate you’re a born gambler,” Willis ob
served as he shuified the cards. “You’ve
missed your vocation, Count. But you must
excuse me from takiDg a haud in any Bucb
game as you propose. I'm not a millionaire,
and 200 francs a point is beyond a joke. Call
in twenty-five and fifty and I'H try you.”
“Whatever you please,” Fedovsky replied.
“You know better what is customary than I
do.”
Willis dealt the cards and each player took
up his hand. Meanwhile the princess had left
the piano and come forward to the table. She
stood near Fedovsky, in such a position that
he was aware of her proximity, but could not
see her. Suddenly sue stooped and picked up
one of the paper chips from the floor.
“This is yours, I think," she said. “You
just dropped it,”
“Thauk you,” said Fedovsky. She placed
the chip on the table beside him. He glanced
at it and saw that sometLiug was written on it
in pencil. lie looked again; it wss a single
word, in the Russian characttr: “lliware!”
The princess returned to the piano and be
gan playing again.
Whatever may have been the purpose of this
singular act of hers, its only effect was to
throw Fedovsky sti 1 further off h:s balance.
It did not seem to him that the warning could
have anv other reference than to something
personal between him and her. Had he un
willingly offended her in any way? Was he
perpetrating some ignorant blunder? As for
the game, it was so eutirely a subordinate mat
ter with him—a mere expedient for suppress
ing anxiety aud suspense—that he did not take
it into consideration at all. In a quieter or
colder mood ; or anywhere else than in Vera’s
own house, he n i'ht have been on Lis guard
against his company; but, under the circum
stances, he simply thought nothing aoont
them.
He slipped the chip into his pocket, and the
game went on, and, for awhile, Btill con timed
to favor him, and also, though to a less extent,
Mme. S.rogello; until most of the chips were
divided between him and her. It was now
Willis’ deal. When Fedovsky took up his
cards he saw at once that he had an excellent
hard, and he began to bet upon it.
Mme. Strogello also seemed to be satisfied
with ber hand, and she raised him. He an
swered by a bet of fifty. She replied, and so
it went on for half a dozen limes. At length
Fodovsky became input ent, and raised his
bet to f>00 francs. There was a chorus of sur
prise and remonstrance.
“Better keep it down,” said Willis. “Mad
ame knows what she is about, as a -general
thing. There are 2 000 up now.”
“Madame shall decide,” returned F’edoysky,
with a bow.
“I suppose I murt take it, then," ehe re
marked, ailer another look at her cards. The
betting continued, the others looking on with
silent interest. Proceeding by such long leaps
the amount at stake increased rapidly. In less
than five minutes there were oyer 20,000 francs
on the table. Fedovsky had reached the limit
of the cash in his possession. He called. The
antagonists displayed their cards. Fedovsky
bad the king, queen, knave, ten and nine of
hearts. Mme. Strogello had the ace, kiDg,
queen knave and ten of diamonds.
[to be continued.]
From the German by W. N.
Harben.
“Will they acquit him?”
“Can they do otherwise?”
“Ohl these juries! Who can tell what they
will conclude? I know of a case in which—”
“Du you think they could blame this man?”
“If there is any justice in the world, he will
be liberated.”
“Justicel Where is there such a thing?”
So buzzed the eager voices of the spectators
in the court room, from which the jury had re
tired to make np a verdict in the case just tried.
Suddenly— as if every tongue had been
atrioken with palsy—the voices ceased and to
tal silence ensued. The jury were returning to
their places. The c reat assemblage was breath
lessly waiting the verdict of the jury.
Then the quiet voioe of the f >reman an-
noanced: “ The defendant is not guilty.?”
The terrible suspense was over. Every face
beamed with gratification.
“Thank God! 1 knew it would be so.”
“Look how pale he is.’’
“He ia crying.”
The prisoner had seated himself, trembling
in every joint of his body. A sudden weak -
ness came over him. His face was buried in
his hands and he was sobbing convulsively.
The sympathy for him must have been great,
for there was hardly an eye in that great room
that did not glisten with moisture. Many drew
their handkerchiefs and burst into joyful tears.
In the midst of this emotion the judge of the
court declared the accused to be free. Then a
young, fair and delicate girl arose from the
witness bench and stepped slowly and hesitat
ingly towards the ynung man, her hands grop
ing in the air, showing her to be blind, and her
face beaming with happiness. But he saw ber
coming and sprang up, hastening to meet ber,
with outstretched arms. With a glad cry she
sank into his anus.
• **•*•»
On the fourth floor of a large suburban build
ing they lived. A family of swallows had
sought the protection of the gable end of the
roof above them, or they would have been the
highest lodgers in the house. The birds, how
ever, were good neighbors. Early of mornings
they showed their friendliness by tapping with
their bills upon the window panes. And they
did not have long to wait for the window to be
opened aud to have their breakfast spread out
for them on the sill by the poor blind girl.
Each time she stood—while they were flutter
ing over the food—and raised her face to Hea
ven, whose light ber eyes seemed to feel, though
they could not receive it or r fleet it agam.
She was a lovely creature. With wonderful
distinctness were the outlines of her features
drawn, and from the golden locks, that fell in
■Ikon waves over her shoulders, shone a pecu
liar brilliancy as if to make amendB for the ex
hausted springs of her eyes. When she walksd
along the street with her head bowed down
on the arm of her brother no one would bus
pect her to be blind, for she walked firmly and
confidently at h s sido. He was her eyes, her
staff, tho v«ry air she breathed. She lived for
him alone, aud only valued life to make him
happy. She was fifteen years old when a spell
of scarlet fever robbed her of her sight. The
father, an humble laborer, died long ago, and
the mother quickly followed Father and mo
ther both dead aud the world a roaring sea of
darkness.
She prayed earnestly then to God to take her
also; but a strong, manly arm was thrown
around her neck, and au earnest, loving voice
said: “Don’t trouble, Marie; I am with you
and will never forsake you.” And he had kept
his word. No mother could have guardid her
child more lovingly, tenderly and carefully
than did this noble brother his charge. To
amuse her, to bring smiles to her sad face
was the joy of his life. Years ago he thought
of marrying; but when he thought of Marie, in
her sad affliction, he gave up the thought en
tirely, for in Lis love for his sister his soul had
found an aim and happiness. His chief pleas
ure was to sit in his easy chair of evenings,
after his day’s work was done, and listen to
her prattling voice, or the music of her piano,
which was the only luxury in the modest apart
ments. She had learned to play before the
Ciuieriau night overlook her; and like spring
flowers kept blooming in the blossomlcss win
ter-time was her nsusic to her, a symbol of a
past happiness, a sweet reminder of the day-
ligh. of her life. i|-r feelings which were too
• • * Delicate disease of eithersex, how
ever induced, speedily and permanently cured.
Book 10 cents in stamps. World’s Dispensary
Medical Association, 003 Main Street, Buffalo,
wordless
inge; and often when Marie sighed and
sobbed in despondent song, he would approach
her, takn the little soft while hands from the
keys and say:
“Marie, why do you make my heart so
heavy?”
Then she would pour out her feelings to him.
Not on her accouut was she sad, she would
say, but because she was daily and hourly
robbing him of his freedom aud happiness, and
could do nothing for him iu return for all his
goodness.
“Foolish child,” he said once, “when will
you iearn that I owe everything to you, and
you are indebted to me for nothing? Ami no - ,
the most contented man that ever lived? fs
not my home already more comfortable and
pleasant than any woman—no matter how
beautiful or rich she might be—could make it?
And does my business lose anything by my
not dissipating, as most young men do? Or do
you think I could enjoy myself more in the
heated concert halls among the elegantly
dressed people, than here in this comfortable
chair? <)r that the grand music which I don’t
understand, would please me better than your
playisg? No more of this sadness, little sister;
you hear?”
“I promise, Rudolph,” she said, "I will not
be so again—no, never.” So she spoke, and
her face looked bright and hopeful.
He tried to make her keep her word, bat the
gloomy thoughts would ever recur; and the
old woman Frau Stern, who lived on the next
floor below, and did the greater part of the
simple domestic work for her, was obliged to
hear many lamentations.
“Ah! I am a poor useless creature,” she
sighed constantly. “He has to work hard and
bear all the burthen for me, and I spend his
earnings day after day, and *can do nothing to
help him.”
"Mariechen,” Frau Stern would say, con
solingly, ‘ don’t talk that way. What could
your brother do without you? You are more
to him than a wife could be. It would not suit
him to marry; he is far too good for the frivo
lous young ladies now-a-days.”
Often had she spiken such words of solace-
ment to the poor orphan; but she only shook
her little head sadly, aud would not be com
forted.
< >ne day the old servant came to her in great
agitation.
“Mariechen,” she said, “if you really would
like to earn sometning, I know how you can
do so.”
The blind girl smiled incredulously.
“1 earn anything! impossible!”
“Yes, by playisg the piano.”
The features of the blind girl were suddenly
animated.
“How do you mean?” she asked, eagerly
Then ih* woman explained the plan. On
the ground floor was a public house—a small
restaurant—where they usually had music for
the entertainment of the customers. The
landlady was a good woman, who, having
heard of Marie’s playing, sent word by her to
know if she would play for her for an hour or
so, at about seven o’clock every evening, for a
proper recompense. The blind girl listened,
nolding her. breath in surprise. Anyone offer
her rnoDey for her simple music, her—a blind
girl? She be able to earn something? If it
were only possible! Oh! if she only might be
able to say to her brother, “Look, Rudolf,
what I have earned with my own hands.” The
old servant, Marie imagined, was only telling
her tnrough sympathy for her affliction, and
the landlady bad no idea of employing her.
Thus she reasoned, for she coaid not realize
that there was so much happiness in store for
her. But directly ibe hostess came in person
and repeated the wish with sweet agreeable
words. She might begin at once—to-morrow,
she said. Only one request had she to make,
she continued, and that was for her to play the
liveliest pieces she knew. Her customers were
honest laboring people, who usually preferred
cheerful music-
The blind girl Hanked her with her voice
trembling wilh pleasure. Asking her not to
let her brother know anything about it, “at
least at first,” *he added.
“Ohl he shall net find it out, rest assured of
that,” she replied.
The next evening she came and led the girl
down. Directly at the foot of the stairway
was a door leading into the restaur
ant. The room was filled with noisy
carousing men. It was easy to read the char
acter of the place iu their laces.
The hosteM managed to have some one con-
tinaally to furnish music, to make ber place
the blind girl. In a corner of the room stood
a plan.no to which she guided her. Like a
star Wilh its pure light shining in a : wilderness.
Was the inhocmt maiden in that crowd of un
cultured, vicious men. *
Some of them looked at her in surprise and
with timidity, and listened for a while atten
tively to her playing. But soon they took no
farther notice of her. The blind girl conld
hear the hum of the voices around hrr; but
did not notice what was passing among lb< m
so busily was she engaged in her performance,
and so anxious to satisfy the landlady with
her efforts. She selected the brightest and
most cheerful airs, and played uuceasit g'y for
more than an hour. When she was complete
ly exhausted her employer asked her to stop;
handing her the promised money, and led ber
through the throng of boisterous men to the
foot of the stairs, from whence she usually as
cended alone.
How happy she felt. At last she was able
to lighten her brother’s burthen—to do some
thing towards repaying him for his great and
numerous sacrifices. In feverish excitement
the groped her way up the long flights of steps.
Convulsively and tightly her little aching fin
gers clasaad the coin, which seemed to piopel
a current of electricity through her every vein
so hot was the blood stream that coarstd from
her quickly beating heart. She bad to stop to
catch her breath at the door of her little room.
“IIow much money excites one,” she said to
herself, almost frightened at the new and pe
culiar feeling which she felt over her first earn
ings; but still it was only for her brother, and
the thought of giving him pleasure that ani
mated her.
The second evening passed like the first.
The soft, sweet, tippling nctes seemed to fal.
from the tips of her flying fingers, and the
sweet, strange music sounded with the tumult
like the frightened, disconnected song of a
bird in a stormy forest. Again shu received
payment for her exertion; which, inexperienc
ed in the ways of the world as she was, seemed
a fortu ne to her.
Then came the third, and eventful evening,
Ehe had been at the pianino longer than usual,
and was just turning to leave when she felt a
strong arm thrown around her, and the coarse
voice of a drunken man sounded close to her
ear.
“Give me a kiss, little treasure.”
Almost paralized with terror, she sprang up
and attempted to tear hcrseli from the horri
ble embrace, but the arm only closed more
lightly around her, aud he was trying to kiss
her.
“Hold her fast, Thomas."
“Let her go,” roared the boisterous crowd.
“Help! Help!” she cried at the top of her
voice; and with an almost superhuman effort,
she tore herself from the fiend, and staggered
through the crowd, her poor sightless eyes
rolling in her fright and her bands held out
before her towards the entrance.
Attracted by the disturbance, the landlady
hastened to the spot. Comprehending the sit
uation at a glance, she grasped the girl, who,
in her fright, trembled like an aspen leaf, anil
hurried Ler through the door to the foot of
the stairs, which sha began to climb, stumbling
at every step, so full of terror was she.
In the restaurant the crowd tried to restrain
the frenzied man who was attempting to follow
her. A fearful struggle ensued in which the
demon was victorious. Throwing the crowd
right and left in his madness, like straws
in a gust of wind, he plunged through
the door. Not seeing the blind girl, he
bellowed like an enraged beast. Then attract
ed by her stumbling footsteps he caught sight
of her on the first landing. Blind with passion
and crazed with intoxication, he sprang after
her, niouuting three or four steps at a time,
lie caught her, and drew her roughly in to his
arms.
“Rudolf!! Rudolf! I” she shrieked, and the
terrible cry sounded through the building from
the ground to the roof. A noise was heard
above, some one was bounding—almost tumb
ling—down the flights of steps.
“Marie!!” cried an anxious apprehensive
voice, and a hand, thrust Irom a man y shoul
der clutched the throat of tho assailant in a
vise-like grip—a howl of rage from the coward
ly wretch, a mighty blow from a clenched fist
between the flaming eyes. The senseless, mo
tionless body of the maiden fell to the steps
between the struggling men. Rudolf sprang
quickly to one s de, and the nix; instant the
howling incarnate Satan was locked in an em
brace of iron. Then] a severe struggle, a
smothered groaning, a powerful crushing olow
—a shriek—a dealb groan—a rattle in the
throat and a fl >od of blood; and a lifeless
corpse rolled down the steps. Then all was
quiet. Rudolf had taken the life of a fellow
man—but lie realized it not; his eager, anxious
aifcerfi He bent orer Efer, fo'iiched fcr'f/Ajh*
less cheeks—felt for the beating of her heart
which had stilled its tbrobbiiigs. Oh, God.
Was she dead? Everything grew black before
him, and he would have fallen but for the aid
of a friendly hand which caught liiai as his
body swayed towards the edge of the stair
case. “Dead! dead!” he muttered; but sum
moning all his strength, he tenderly lifted the
body and bore it into the room near by, and
laid ber carefully upon a sofa. Quickly pro
curing water, he moistened her face, listening
breathlessly for the slightest indication of res
piration. A twitching, a painful twitching
around the mouth—then a breath and a half
uttered sigh
“Marie," he sail, softly, his heart tilling
with joy.
A smile passes over the face.
“Rudolf,” sbe whispered, extending her
hands searcliingly in the direction of his voice.
“Thank God! she lives! she lives!” he cried
Binkingon his knees beside the sofa; the great
strong figure bawed, and tears of joy rolled
down his cheeks.
Five Little Chickens.
Bant the first little chicken.
With a queer little squirm,
"Oh, I wish I could a nl
A (at little worml”
Bald the next little chicken,
Wl'li an odd little snrug,
“On. t wish I could find
A (at little but I”
Bald the third little chicken,
With a sharp little Mjueal,
' Oh. I wish I could find
Borne nice yellow meal 1”
Bald the fourth IPtle chicken,
With a small stgh of grief,
"I wish I could Dud
A green little leaf 1”
Bald 'he fifth little chicken,
Wi h a tain' little moan,
‘ On, I wish I cou'd fl id
A wee gravel stoue!”
"Now. see here,” said fhe mother,
From the ureen garden patch,
"Kyon want auy broakfas ,
You j ist come aud final chi”
It Took his Head Off.
“It was awful, awful, awful!” exclaimed a
train boy, just as a group of lad es were pass
ing down the platform.
“What was that which was so awful? II is
anybody been killed? Has there been a terri
ble catastrophe? What did they do with the
wounded? When did the collision take place?”
Such were a few of the questions that assail
ed the youth.
“’Twan’t no collision, ladies; but it was aw
ful all the same ”
“What was it? Don’t keep us in suspense.”
“Well, you see, ladies, a gentleman was
stan lieg right here on the platform, and just
as the traiu started, lie gave a jump—”
“And was crushed beneath the wheels, and
his mangled corpse was strewn for miles aloni
the track.”
“Not exactly, mar in, but the traiu took his
head right off ”
Instantly the air resounded with cries of
horror from the feminine group. When the
boy could make himself heard, he remarked :
“I don’t see anything horrible about it, la
dies. The train took the man’s body off ioo.
But he came awlully near being left ”
As the ladies turned to move o.j, the words
“disgusting little creature’’ were borne upon the
air, mingled wilh a low chuckle from the train-
boy’s vicinity.—B stun Transcript.
A husband telegraphed to his wife: “What
have you for breakfas - , ani how is the baby?”
The answer came: “Buck-wheat cakes and
measles.”
A clergyman on a sultry afternoon paused
in his sermon aud said; “I saw an advertise
ment for 500 sleepers for a railroad. I think I
could supply at least fifty and recommend
them as good and sound!”
Ingomisca—“You look very like Senator F.,
John ” John (delightedly)—“Oil, do I? Is he
smart?” Ingomisca—•*! don’t know. lie
doesn’t look so.”
We notice that as a rule people who owe a
grudge never ask for an extension of time nor
reduction of interest. They whack up at every
opportunity.
A philosopher has said, “Send me the dres
ses a woman has worn anti 1 will write her
biogrj
rap’-y.” II-' would
bfc.tne'A . Dui D0H )
would fiud scant material for
“I wish that dog would go out of the parlor.
I wonder why he don’t.”—“Probably because
he xS a iarryer,” was the reply.
Talk about women being flighty! Look at
bank cashiers.
“I'm going to be a contortionist when I grow
up,” sn d little Johnny proudly: “I’m in train
ing now, so I want you to tell me what is tie
best thing for me to eat.” “Green apples, my
boy,” chuckled the old man.
Lament on the Straw Hat.
No more abroad,
A cranial lord,
I’ll erect tile light of day,
F r In disgrace,
As out of place,
I now am cast away.
S'ptember’s bell
Haiti runs my kbeii.
And ranked me v. i:ti the dead,
And I am put
Oft under foot.
Who oDce reigned overhead.
Pastor—Thomas, don’t you think your pa
rents would feel very sore if they knew you
were fishing on the .Sabbath?
Thomas—Yes, sir; but not half as sore as
I d f.el if they found it out.
A country clergyman was boasting of having
been educated at two colleges. “You remind
me,” said an aged divine, “of an instance I
know of a calf that sucked two cows.” “What
was the const queuce?” said a third person.
“Why, sir,” replied the old gentleman very
gravely, “the consequence was that he was a
very great call!”
Lung Troubles and Wasting
Diseases can be cured, if properly treated in
time, asshown bv the following statement from
D. C. Freeman, Sydney; “Having been a great
sufferer from pulmouary attacks, and gradual
ly wasting away for the past two years, it af
fords me pleasure to testify that Scott’s Emul
sion of Cod Liver Oil with Lime and Soda has
given me great relief, aud I cheerfully recom-
meud it to all suffering in a similar way to my
self. In addition I would say that it is very
pleasant to taka.”
1 J.m Webster meets on the streets of Aus
tin Ma'ilda Snowball, with whom he is ac
quainted.
Jim—“IIow does yer like de white famerly
you am workin’ for now?’’
Matilda—“I has been wid ’em a week, and
I can’t tell yit. I)e fust week de white folks
allers tries ter make a good impresbun ou de
culled lady what hires htrse’f to ’em.”
Vagrant—Why are you here on the dock?
Sharper—For raising a check. Why are you
here?
Vagrant—Because I couldn’t raise one.
Pat O'Flaherty said that his wife was very
ungrateful, for “when I married her she hadn’t
a rag to her back, and now she’s covered with
em.”
“We bear testimony, with many others,
that your house is the promptest paying adver
tising agency in the Union,’’ writes a publish
er in New York to G-*n. P. Rowell & Co', 10
Spruce street. New York city. This careful
attention to the rights of others largely assists
Rowell & Co. in securing the best service for
their customers.
The gospel according to St. Mark, in raised
Chinese characters, has been published for the
use of the blind in China. This is the 250th
language in which portions of the Bible have
been printed for the blind scripture-readers.:
A committee recently requested a gentleman
to name a suitable person for au important po
sition. He suggested a man of unexception
able character and great ability. The reply
was. “He is all that you say, but he has some
sharp corners.
“Oh, yes,” said the gentleman; “but would
that be an objection?”
“Certainly,” said he committee.;;
“Well, then what you want is a cipher; a
cipher has no corners, and you can find ciphers
without coming to me for help.”
Miss P. has a class in tha Methodist Sunday
school, at Brunswick, composed of a number
of bright little girls. Last Silt day they were
to recite a number of verses from the Bible, in
competition for a prize. Two or three made
the attempt at recitation and failed At last
one little tot exclaimed: “I know it, I can say
it,” and sha proceeded. “The Lord made the
erfth in six days, and on the seventh He—He
—He—holidayed it.” (hallowed.)
attractive. Sometimes it was a wandering
violinist, ora street singer, this time it was
Ely’s Cream Balm was recommended to me
by my druggist as a preventi re (o Hay Fever.
Have been using it ec directed since the !Lh of
August and have found it a specific for that
much dreaded and loathsome disease. For ten
years or more I have been a great sufferer each
year, from August !hh till frost, and have tried
many alleged remedies for its cure, bat Ely’s
Cream Balm is the onlv preventive I have ever
found. Hay Fever sufferers ought to know of
its efficacy.—F. B. AINSWORTH, Publisher,
Indianapolis, Ind.
“What do the ladies wear nowadays, any
way?” asked a cynical bachelor, seeing a scant -
ly arrayed beauty at a ball. ‘Oh,” replied his
companion' “they put on lots of style, that’s
A CARD.
To all who Are suffering from the errors and
Indiscretions of youth, nervous weakness, early
decay, loss of manhood, &c., I will send a recipe
that will cure you, FREE OF CHARGE. This great
remedy was discovered by a missionary In South
America. Send a self-addressed envelope to the
REV. Josxxh T. INMAN. Station D, JVe- Far* Cit*.
Rev. Mr. Sticker, I). I).—“So you don’t
think I practice what I preach, deacon?” Dea
con Kicker—“Well, considering that you have
been preaching on the subject of resignation
for the j) ist forty-nine years, I don’t quite
think you do.”
What makes the goat bst. Mary soy
The eager children cry.
Bit’s butt-a-goat, you kne w,
Georgia* Railroad Company,
Office General Passenger Agent,
AUGUSTA, GA., Feb., 1. 1887.
NOTICE! TO THE PUBLIC.
I DliUUGISn MISTMK.
A Sick Man’s Wilt Disregards the Druggist's
Advice and So Saves the Lite ol
Her Husband.
I am ft wood carver by trade and it is
out of my line to write letters; but my
wife thought if was no more than right
that I should let you know what your
remedy has done for me, aud I think
SO tOO.
I live in East 157th street, west of
Tliini avenue, and have lived kiere for
about twenty-three years, where I own
real estate. Up to the time I am about
to mention I had been a stioiig, well
mail. There was always more or less
malaria in the neighborhood, but I had
not personally suffered from it. It was
in 1880 I had my first attack. It came
on as such attac ks commonly do, with
headaches, loss of appetite and ambi
tion, chilly sensations with slight fever
afterwards, a disposition to yawn and
Stretch, and so forth. I was employed
at that time at Killians & Brothers,
furniture manufacturers, in W est 32d
street. I hoped the attack would wear
off, but as it didu t i consulted a well-
known and ; iliie physician in Morris-
nnia, who gave me q inineand told me
what to do. I can sum up the first four
and a half or five years of my experi
ence in few words. Occasionally I
was laid up for a day or two, but on
the whole I Slin k to my work. I kept
taking quinine, in larger doses from
y. nr to year, and kept on get ting weak
er and worse, slowly hut sure v, all the
time.
Mi
t
rouble
was no
w ‘well de-
lined
and'
its
sympt
ulus welt
* steady and
regid
ar.
I 1:
uni dm
ill. ague
in its worst
firm,
, and
it
was gi
rinding i
me down in
spite
of all
i tl
lut I
could do
or t lie doc-
tors <
jould
il<
.. It 1
leid me il
; a £rip t ike
fre i
n a b>
i n
‘ingeo
ol mme.
The poison
liud ■
JOlie :
ill
throii;
rh and o
vor me and
liotlii
ng w
as
able
to touch
it. I was
fast 1
osillL
l!
shuml
1 strrnirtl
i, and about
Mure
II, 1H.SI.
I kuo
ik.-doffl
vork entiro-
h an
d we
lit
bottle
to b-dow
;i sick, and
to dii
e for
all
1 cold
d tell. 1 1
ran down s<>
rapidly t!
iat
I so..
m h cam
le unable to
walk
any <
lis
lance.
L iter 1
went from
room
i to n
n in ni
j own ho
use onlv by
Ilium
Js ho
hii
n;r mo
up by ear
h arm. The
«lo>i-s
> ol q
tiii
nine w
oro increased uni i 1 j
cr> n
look
t.h
rtij <r> t
this at a
dose. Tb.
Wire!
ts of
tli
is trei
numlous
stimulntioi
was 1
:o ma
ko
me nt
larly wild
L It brokt
mv s
loop ;
.11
np. an
d i often
walked the
Hour, or staggered about it, all night
long, scarcely able to hear any noises
or even human speech. My tempei
was extremely irritable. A- to food,
one of my little children would eat
more iu a meal than I could in a day.
1 noun! oi i'.er food and then turn from
it in disgust. I lived on quinine and
otiier stimulants and on my* If, like a
bear in winter. The quinine set my
head in n whirl, and the liquor given
ns a medicine - made my stomach so
sick I could not tolerate it.
From 175 pounds (my proper weight)
] ran down to !)7 pounds—the weight
of a liglil girl—and w as scarcely better
than a skeleton.
If an ylnnty - hath, taken a hatchet and
knocked nic down and killed me l should
hare keen heller off.
During the latter part of this period.
early in
“Miller. I
any more
any good,
nine down
help you."
On the s
use of ifliii
my mind I
lnv elianci
Three v
last of M:i
men! of K
Ml- told me
nonsense! i
nui cm-
less,'to get
physician said:
here's no use in my taking
money of you, I can't do you
1 might pour pounds of qui-
your throat and it wouldn’t
trungth of t Ills I gave up the
line altogether, and made up
o do nothing more and take
■eks afterwards—about the
—my wife saw ail advertise-
-kine iu a New York paper,
i of it. I said: “ Stuff' and
t can’t do me anv good.”
'. The drug,
Kaskine: he
agar; that sh
aid
■Ivisf
He -aid I
il if she i
lidn't keep
• insisted on In
:n in disgust l
iglilior, Mr. A.
lit not
onev on it. &c.
it. but could get
ving it. Turn-
IV wife spoke to
gewald.
Sixth
Ainu
the le:
it her a bottle at a drug store iu
gainst my will, and without
lith, I began taking it. In
one week ! was better. I began to
sleep. 1 stopped “seeing ghosts.” I
began to have an appetite and to gain
strength. This was now the first of
June, 1886, and by tile eml of that
month I was hack at mv bench at C. P.
Smith's scroll sawing factory iu 116th
street, where I work now.
Since then I have never lost a day
from sickness. Taking Kaskine only,
about forty pellets in four i quid doses
a day, I continued to gain. The ma
laria appeared to he killed ill my sys
tem, and now I’ve got back my old
weight - 175 pounds—and - my old
strength to labor. I am an astonish-
meiit to myself and to my friends, and
if K iskine did not do this I d. n't know
what did. The only greater iliing it
could do would bo to bring a dead man
to life. Frederick A. Miller,
630 Eusi 157th Street. New York.
P. S.—For the absolute truth of the
above statement i refer to the following
gentlemen, who are personally ac
quainted with the facts: Mr. Alex
ander Weir, 026 156th SL ; Mr. George
Seaman. 158th street and G'oiirtlandt
avenue; Mr
. A.
Moebus, 1
54th
<tr
eet
and Court
! audt
avenue:
Mr.
P.
F
Yaupel, 15
'4th
street and
Coni'
l.n
id:
avenue; M
r. Jo
dm Lunnv
, GJo
E
as,
158th stree
t; Ml
-. John IT
•nsha’
121
125th street
. ami
many otli
ers.
I V
rill
also repiv t
o lett'
ers of inqui
ry.
We suimi
il tha
t the abov
e a-t
oni
sb-
inir cure, vi
niche
d for as it
is bv
re]
|>U-
table men.
is de-
serving of
a lin*
gli
and enndid
inve
stigation h
\ tbi
nki
>ple. And we further subnet that
when druggists turn away customers
by falsifi ing the character of a remedy
because they do not happen to have it
mi hand, they do a great wrong. If
this afflicted man had not disregarded
the druggist's advice am! sent else
where l'or the remedy he would without
doubt have been iu his grave.
Other letters of a similar character
from prominent individuals, which
stamp K skine as a remedy of un
doubted merit, will be sent on mod ca
tion. I’ri.-i $1.00,01-6 bottle-.
Sold b\ i u .i ,or seal ny mail on
receipt of price.
Tlie Kaskine Company, 54 Warren
St., New York.
Tickets to Hillman, Ca.
Notice in hereby given that Tickets have
been placed on sale at all regular stations ou
line of the Georgia, and Gainesville, Jefferson
and Southern Railroad to HILLMAN, GA., a
flag station on the Washington Branca. Par
ties desiring to visit HILLMAN and go to the
“ELECTRIC SHAFT,’* can now purchase
Tickets to that point direct, instead of stop
ping at Raytown (Sharon), and takiug private
conveyance from that point The SHAFT ia
located just half mile from Railway Landing.
Trains stop at Landing only when signalled
unless passengers on board desire to stop
there. E. R. DORSEY,
General Passenger Agent
HAY F EVE [Catarrh
Is an U fl imed conditio
< f ttie lining membraO’
of the nostrils ftar-duc
and throat, affecting fh
lungs. An >ctid mucu
Is Fec-eted, the dl^chartt
is acc imp nled wt b •
burning sensation. Ther-
are sct re spasms <
soetzl gfr quent attack
of headache, watery an<
Ihfl undd eyes.
CREAM BALML^
▲ positive Cure. | iAY-fever
o 11110 nostril and is
agreeable. Price 50 cents at Drr<rgt*r« : mail,
registered, 60 cent*. Clrcu’ars free. ELY BROS..
677-yr Druggists, G*ego. N Y
I CURE FITS!
a time end then hue* t
i » •rwi, mm i will cure yon.
te. h. u. boot, iu rmn *.,lwM