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THE SUNNY SOUTH.
The Glass
By Weatherley Chesney.
A Thrilling Detective Story of Exciting Adventures Told in a Most
Fascinating Manner.
COPYRIGHTED 1805 BY THE AUTHOR, AND PRINTED BY SPECIAL ARRANGEMENT.
Chapter XVII.—Mr. Gates Com
pletes His ArraaEemcjits.
Mr. Keighley Gates seemed somewhat
disturbed when Commander Brett had
left him. He walked up and down the
room impatiently, and lrom the mut
tered expressions that occasionally fell
from his lips it could be gathered he
was onisius somebody, but whether it
was Brett, Fitzgerald or himself it was
impossible to say. At length ho sat
down and finished a hearty breakfast.
At 11 o’clock ho left the hotel in a
short jacket and bowler hat and made
his way east to the house where Mabel
Fenton was imprisoned. He worked bis
way there by a particularly circuitous
route, employing trains, buses, han
soms and a steamer for his purpose, and
he cast many wary glances behind to
assure himself ho was not being fol
lowed. It was 1 o’clock when he reach
ed the house. Fitzgerald was waiting
for him.
“Confound you, Rich!’’ said Gates.
“A pretty bungle you have made of
yesterday’s business!”
“What’s the matter? Got the girl all
right!”
“Brett suspects you. Your infernal
way of speaking did it.”
“Thought I dissembled to suit occa
sion. However, it don't matter. I leave
the blooming country after tonight. No
good hanging on here. ”
“I think you better had, for my sake
as well as yours. Then you got the girl
all’right? Much trouble?”
“Nothing to speak of. She’s been cry
ing her little eyes out. Sally looks after
her. ”
“Did Dirk get off all right:”
“Left first thing this morning.
Where’s he gone?”
“Some place in Gloucestershire, with
a wire for old Fenton. It will take him
out of the way and drag off that med
dling fool Brett as well.”
“Very well,” said Gates. “And now
to sketch out the detail of our next plan
of campaign. But it’s dry work talk
ing. ”
“Water, my friend, water—nothing
else. And, if you want to hear a further
reason, here you ure: Wo’re in a tight
place, you and I, and it’ll require all
our wit to get through to the other side.
I can work best dead sober, and so can
you. You’re sullen when you haven’t
got a drop of anything generous under
your waistcoat and surly and mighty
disagreeable as a companion. But I pay
you the compliment of saying that at
these times you’re one of the shrewdest
business men with whom I’ve the un
happiness to he acquainted.”
Mr. Gates bowed to the dubious com
pliment, sighed and drew his chair up
to the broken table. Then he commenced '
to talk, and Dr. Fitzgerald was not far
wrong in lauding his generalship. In
his own crooked.way the man was ter
ribly clever.
So Mr. Gates spent another hour with
Fitzgerald, making final arrangements
for the robbery, and he felt sure that
by the next morning ho would ho in a
position to meet his pressing necessities, j
with a surplus for future requirements. !
on De
Chapter XVIII.—The Haid
Vcrc Gardens.
Brett passed a bu=y l~r. jio had im
portant business to transact at the ad
miralty, and ther3 were other matters
that claimed his immediate attention.
It was evening before he was again at
Do Vera Gardens.
Thera he found a note awaiting him
from Mr. Fenton, hastily scribbled and
folded:
Inclosed wire received this afternoon. Am
going at once to MincUenbampton. Please
sleep here. Will wire you.
Brett hastily uufolded the inclosed
telegram and read:
In the hospital at Minchenhampton. Only
slight accident. Please come. Mabel.
The words danced before Brett’s eyes.
He could only grasp one fact—that Ma
bel was still alive.
“Thcnk God for that!” he cried.
And then the thought came that per
haps, after all, she was severely hurt.
True, she said it was only a slight acci
dent, hut might that not only have been
intended to break the news? And how
did she get there, and where was this
place?
Ho hastily consulted Bradshaw, found
that tho nearest station was Brins-
combe, and that tho last train left Pad
dington at 20 minutes past 6. There
was nothing for it but to wait till
morning for Mr. Fenton’s wire. It
might tell him he was returning at
once with his precious charge. If not,
he would start himself at once.
At length Brett resigned himself to
tho inevitable and strove as best he
could to get through the weary hours.
Bat do what he would he could not
§leep. If he closed his eyes for a few
minutes and fell into a fitful doze, it
was only to awake with a start with
the idea of something dreadful happen
ing to Mabel or that he was fighting
with Keighley Gates. At last, after one
of these dreams, ho found himself hope
lessly wide awake; so, finding sleep was
impossible, he lay with open eyes star
ing into tho darkness.
Suddenly ha heard a noise in the
house. He sat np in bed and listened
intently. There was a click and the
opening of a creaking door. Perhaps
Mrs. Fenton was worse. He opened his
door quietly and peered ont.
No; there was a low gaslight burning
on the landing outside, and no one was
about. He waited and listened. Ah,
there it was again, and down stairs 1
Good heavens, there must be burglars
in the house!
He hastily put on some clothes and
then cast about for a weapon. There
was nothing better than a poker, and
with tills in his hand he made his way
down the staircase.
At each step he stopped and listened,
, but there was absolute silence, and he
began to think he had been mistaken,
i lie waited at the bottom of the stairs
for further indications. He must have
been there fully five minutes before ho
caught a sound, but at last he was cer
tain some ono was moving about in the
dining room. Grasping his weapon
firmly, he opened the door.
The room was dimly lighted by tbo
rays of a dark lantern, and at the far
end Brett saw a man busily eugaged
with the silver on the sideboard. There
J were a couple of open bags on tho table,
| and in them and around them he saw a
i quantity of the household plate. The
| man had his back toward him and did
i not hear his entrance, and Brett was
j close upon him before a creaking board
j betrayed him. The thief turned round
I instantly and faced him. Brett knew
him in a moment, despite his disguise.
It was the man he was looking for, tho
man ho had seen coming from Keighley
Gates’ rooms, the man who had tried
to rifie the body of Lady Florence Mos-
tyn, the man whom he suspected had
abducted Mabel! At last he was face to
faoe with the scoundrel. He had him
in his power. With fierce exultation he
raised his weapon.
“Hands up, you blackguard, ” cried
he, “or I’ll brain you!”
The man's bands mechanically went
up aloft.
“Now, Dr. Fitzgerald, ” said Brett,
"we meet again”—
He never finished the sentence, for
there was a stealthy step behind him
and a terrible blow on the head with a
life preserver, and ho fell senseless and
without a cry.
“Thanks, old chap,’’said Fitzgerald,
dropping his arms with a sigh of relief.
“Whoever would have expected that
donkey turning up hero?”
“Curse him!” hissed Gates between
his teeth. “He and I are quits now.
But look sharp. Stow away what swag
wc have and close up. We must be off.
Others may have heard us. I’ll go and
listen. ”
Leaving Fitzgerald to collect the
booty and without bestowing a thought
on the inanimate body on tho floor,
Gates opened the door softly and went
out in the hall.
In an instant he saw that the house-
boid had taken alarm. There was whis
pering, the opening of doors, and he
caught the sight of a figure on the stairs.
Without even giving a signal of alarm
to Fitzgerald, Gates ran to the front j
door. It was the work of an instant to
open it and in another he was flying
down tho stops into thostreot. Here his
ill luck followed him for he ran straight
into the arms of a policeman who was i
passing.
His wonderful fertility of resource
now Etood him in good stead.
“Quick, officer!” he said. “Don’t
lose a moment. Murder and robbery!”
and he dashed up the steps, almost
dragging the policeman after him.
“Go on first,” said Gates encour
agingly, when they stood in the pas- j
sage. “I daren’t. ”
Tho policeman drew hia truncheon j
and moved forward. A manservant was
hesitating at the bottom of the stairs |
and higher up a group of affrighted wo- !
men were huddled together.
At that moment the door of the din- |
ing room opened and Fitzgerald appear
ed. He had heard noises and become j
alarmed, particularly so as Gates had j
not returned. In oue hand he carried a 1
bag and in the other he held a life pre- '
server. Tho policeman turned on his ;
lantern straight into his face, blinding !
him for the moment, and in the next
he leveled him on tho floor with his
truncheon aud then flung himself on
top of him. Fitzgerald struggled hard,
for he was still gome, but the officer
and the footman managed to hold him
down and finally handcuff him.
“Here,” said tho policeman when
this had been accomplished, detaching
his whistle, “you go to the front and
blow this. ”
The servant did so, and in a few rain-
ntes a couple more policemen were in
the house.
Dr. Fitzgerald, despite his eloqnent
protests, was nov further secured, and
the officers proceeded to make investi
gations. The gas was lighted, ard the
first object that met their eyes was the
apparently lifeless body of Captain
Brett. Blood was streaming profusely
from an ugly wound in his head.”
“There’s been murder here,” cried
ono of the men, bending over him. “Go
for a doctor—quick. There’s one at tho
far end of the street. Look slipper}’, or
he'll bleed to death, if he isn’t dead al
ready.”
The footman ran off for the doctor
and the others busied themselves over
Brett. They tried to stop the flow of
blood with bandages, and loosened the
clothes rouuri his neok. Then they coaid
only wait for the arrival of tho doctor.
He soon made his appearance aud,
after a rapid examination, he shook his
head. It was a bad case, he said, if not
hopeless.
“Well, I’m blest!” said the man
who had first come on the scene, as a
bright idea struck him. “I’ll bet the
cove I met on the doorstep who gave
me the information was the other one!”
Fitzgerald pricked up his ears.
‘‘What was he like, officer?”
The policeman paused reflectively.
“He ran ont of the house in the
dickens of a hurry and nearly knocked
me over, and then he hauled me in al
most as quick, so I hadn’t time to no
tice him particular. But he was a short
ish man, and had a beard—ginger, I
should say.”
Fitzgerald’s eyes almost started from
their sockets.
“And yon say this man gave you the
information, officer?”
“That he did. ‘There’s murder and
robbery going on in this house,’ he
said, and I followed him in, and then I
suppose be slipped away, as I haven’t
seen him since. lie was a pretty smart
cove, that one was, if it was your pal.
Is ho shortish and ginger?”
Fitzgerald did not reply. He seemed
overwhelmed by the news, but at last
ho muttered between his clinched teeth:
“Ail right, Mr. Keighley Gates. I
once saved your life and tonight maybe
you saved mine, so we’re quits so far,
but you afterward rounded on a pal,
and, by tbo God above us, you shall
swing for it!”
Chapter XIX.—Lady Florence KIos-
tyn’s Diary.
When the door closed behind her
captors aud shut out of sight Lady Flor
ence Mostyn’s stepbrother, Mabel
fainted. When she recovered conscious
ness, it was only to lie, numbly won
dering where she was, too weak and
sick at heart to realize the horror of the
situation—too dazed to suffer much.
She passed a restless night, aud it was
in the early hours of the morning be
fore nature asserted herself and she fell
into a deep sleep.
She awoke clearly and acutely living
in the present, with a sharp conscious
ness that was agony. There was no
gradual piecing together of events, but
there carno tho sudden, vivid recollec
tion of all that had happened on the
previous day.
Her thoughts were interrupted by the
entrance of Sally with a meal. The old
hag vouchsafed no remark as she plnocd
it on the table, but at onoe departed,
and the door was instantly locked be
hind her. Mabel forced herself to eat.
Then she investigated the resources of
her prison.
Tho window was boarded np over the
lower hall, and the upper portion show
ed that it was barred behind. There
was a small fireplace with a narrow
mantelpiece adorned with gaudy orna
ments. There were two chairs with
travelers’ tales, Mr. Durant’s are well
worth listening to, and that is high
praise for him. For myself I am not
particularly taken with him, but that
is nothing. I rarely am impressed by
people at first sight. Mr. Durant bids
fair to bo popular. He keeps good horses
and rides straight. That may account
for it.
“Nov. 29.—I observed Mr. Durant
more particularly today, perhaps be
cause he appeared to notice mo even
less than usual, if that were possible.
Of course, he is always polite, but he
probably does not consider mo worth
more attention than is demanded by or
dinary courtesy. He has clear, penetrat
ing gray eyes and a firm chin; his
heavy black mustache completely hides
his mouth, but I can imagine it to bo
clever and capable. I suppose his fore
head does recede a little too much.
“Dec. 6.—Mr. Durant dined boro to
night. There was a crowd of people,
but he was the most interesting of them
all, and because I was his host’s daugh
ter I suppose ho folt obliged to be at
tentive. We had a long talk together in
tiie drawing room—in fact, he scarcely
ever left my side.
“Dec. 11.—The hounds met at Brock-
worth park today, and we killed at
Leighterton; the best run this season.
Mr. Durant gave me a splendid lead.
He rides well and already knows every
inoh of the oounty.
“Deo. 17.—I need not complain again
of Mr. Durant’s lack of interest. Ho is
delighted with my hospital scheme and
has offered to help me.
“Dec. 19. — Wo dined at tho Towers
tonight. Dinners there are generally
tedious ordeals, but tonight was differ
ent. Mr. Durant took me in. Perhaps
that accounts for it.
“1889, Jan. 7.—The Cottage hospital
scheme works splendidly. Mr. Durant’s
help is wonderful assistance and by the
spring we hope it will he ready for the :
first patients.
“Jan. 15.—It is a week since I have !
written anything in my diary. I have
seen Mr. Durant every day since. Ho
was at the meet at Houndscroft, and we i
were in at the death at Dunkirk. Then
he was at the Hoskins’ dance, and took |
me in at Lord Lauuton’s dinner. He !
was among the audience at the hospital !
concert, and on Sunday he was at
church. Yesterday ho walked with me
from the other end off the village. I had
been to see old Hanks when I met him.
He was riding, but ho dismounted aud
walked with me to the south lodge. I
am afraid ho would be very miserable,
walking all that distance in riding boots.
“Jan. 22.—Today I have refused Lord
Winter again for the third time. Why
cannot he take ‘No’ for an answer? I
wonder if Mr. Durant ever cared enougli
for any one to propose three times?
“Jan. 27.—Today the most wonder
ful thing has happened—Arthur Durant
ha3 asked me to be his wife! I can
hardly realize it yet. Only when I close
my eyes and again see his gazing into
mine I can hear his words, almost
whispered in their intensity. ‘I love
you,’ he said. ‘I worship you. I have
tr
44 There Are no Birds
in Last Year s Nest
So wrote Longfellow, and
in Spring days the birds are
getting new nests, Their
blood beats warm and hearty
in expectation, but how about
yours, my friend, is it warm
and hearty, vigorous and pure?
If not> turn at once to that
tried and true remedy, Hood's
Sarsaparilla, the world's
best Spring medicine for mak
ing impure blood clear and pure.
The difference in a person’s feelings
before and after using it is phenomenal.
Hood’s never disappoints.
Hood’s Pills cur© liver ills, the non irritating and
only cathartic, to take with Hood’s Sarsaparilla,
tumbled antimacassars, the very eight _ ,,
of which made her shudder, oved. you from tjjo moment I saw you!
as they did the struggle of the previous ’ ’ ' " 1 ’ ' “ ’
day. The only other furniture in the
room were the horsehair sofa on which
she had spent the night and a table cov
ered with a dirty red cloth. A pile of
boxes and an empty hamper were push
ed into one corner of this cheerless
apartment. Mabel observed all this mi-
nutoly. Finally she pulled up a chair
to tho window aud peered over tho top
of tho shutter into the narrow back
street beyond.
A drizzling rain was falling, aud
there were few passersby. She won-
fieri d what her fate would oe : i she
aroused their attention. Would they
come to her rescue? She had almost de
cided to take this desperate Etap when
the door opened and Fitzgerald entered.
“Gome down from there,” he said
harshly, “aud don’t try that trick on
again, please, or I’ll board the lot up.”
Then be added in his usual manner:
“Lady very beautiful—must not excite
envy and admiration of neighbors. Un
derstand?”
He stood gloating over her discom
fiture for a few seconds and then left
the room.
For a moment Mabel lost heart.
Could she ever escape if she were so
closely watched? With a weary sigh
she left the window, and her eye fell
■on tho boxes and hamper. The latter
was empty. So ehe lifted it down and
tried to open the box underneath, but it
proved unyielding. The lower oue
seemed to bo fastened by a padlock, but
she. soon found that, though the key had
been turned, the loop had not been
forced far enough down to catch the
bolt. She opened it easily and turned
over the contents—old newspapers,
curious, roughly drawn plans, a bunch
of skeleton keys buried under odds and
ends of all descriptions, and a few
books. She glanced over the latter, hop
ing they might help her through the
dreary hours, but they were not attract
ive. They were chiefly racing calen
dars and guidebooks. A prettily bound
volume at length caught her eye. It
had a look to it, which had been
wrenched loose. She opened it with
curiosity, and an exclamation of sur
prise burst from her.
It was a diary, and on the fly leaf,
written in a clear girlish handwriting,
was the name of Florence Mostyn !
Mabel’s heart beat with intense ex
citement, and her hands trembled so
that she could hardly hold the book. At
last she opened the diary of the ill fated
girl Tho first entry was on her eight
eenth birthday, but Mabel glanced
through it rapidly, turning the pages
with feverish haste, till her eye caught
Mr. Durant‘3 name. Then she read ev
ery word.
Here are some of the entries:
“1888, Oct. 26.—There was quite a
crowd of men at Lady Morton’s last
night, and among them was Mr. Arthur
Durant, the new owner of Abbiugball.
He is one of those wild men of the west,
who have been to all sorts of impossible
places and seen all sorts of wonderful
things. But papa says that, unlike most
I ’ avoided you because I felt I was not
worthy to touch tho ground on which
you walked. But surely my love has
raised mo so that I dare plead with you
to let mo try to teach you to love me a
little.’ I could not find words, and he
thought I did not care. His voice was
full of pain as he released my hand.
‘Forgive me my presumption. I am not
worthy of you. I have been roughened
by my life, by hardship and travel. For-
givo mo for daring to tell my love, but
I could not keop silent any longer.’ His
face was white aud set, but still I bad
no wo - ..is. I held out my hands to him,
and none were needed. I am happy,
wildly happy. He loves me, and, oh, I
love him so! Tomorrow Arthur sees
papa—in deference to my wishes, he
says, for he is sure it is useless. I know
papa is proud, but he can have no fault
to find with him. Still, I am nervous,
and Arthur is certain it is useless.
“Jan. 28.—Arthur had an interview
with papa this morning. I met him i.a
the archery ground afterward. It was
as lie feared—papa would not hear him
to the end ,and forbade him to speak to
mo on the subject. He silenced him in
stantly and dismissed him with con
tempt. Arthur vows that nothing shall
separate us and begs me to fly with
him. He says that we will be married
by special license in London; that we
shall go abroad and stay there till
papa’s wrath has cooled. Then we can
come home, and all will be well again.
Arthur little knows papa’s implacable
nature. He is colder than ice, knows no
yielding, and will never pardon. He
never forgave Robert, and never will
forgive him, though his faults, poor
boy, were small enough. No, I could
not run away. It would not be right.
“Jan. 29.—Today papa sent for me
to the library and showed me a letter
from Aunt Amelia. She wrote that,
owing to her recent bad health—she
has never known a day's illness in her
life—her doctor orders her to go to
Mentone for two mouths. She will be
pleased if Florence will aocompany her,
In whioh caso she must be in London
on Friday. I know this is papa’s doing.
I told him candidly that I did not wish
to go and would not accept the invita
tion. He said icily: ‘You will go, Flor
ence. Yon will join your aunt, as she
wishes, on Friday.’ I was determined
be should not frighten me, and an-
gwered with a calmness that equaled
bis: ‘No, papa. You know I do not like
Aunt Amelia, and nothing will make
me spend two months with her. I will
not go. ’ His only answer was to open
the door and say, with stinging polite
ness: ‘I have accepted the invitation for
you. You will make arrangements to
join your aunt on Friday. You leave
by the 11:17 train.’ I meet Arthur at
the coppice at 4 o’clock. Yesterday his
persuasion nearly overcame rue. Today
be shall not call me obdurate and cold.
Poor Arthur! How sad he looked when
he thought his Reading vain ! He little
knows how my heart is on fire with
love for him.
“Wednesday Night,Jan. 30.—Arthur
was waiting at the coppice and again
poured ont the passionate entreaty that
I would fly with him. I told him about
Mentone. Then he held my hand in a
clasp that hurt mo and breathed hard;
the words seemed wrung from him:
‘My darling, listen! You will go to
London on Friday, but I will meet you
there, and we will bo married at on’ce. ’
Then I was sobbing in his arms, aud he
was comforting me.
“Jan. 31.—Tomorrow lam to become
Arthur’s wife. Wbat joy that should
mean to me! And yet my heart is
heavy. I effght not fo rake this step. I#
is the first thing I have ever done un
derhand—and yet—and yet—I love him
—I love him, and all the world is as
nothing to me against my love for him.
Had papa shown me the slightest affec
tion I could not have left him in this
way, but I have never known what it
was to be loved by him. How can I re
ject the true love of the man I worship?
Tomorrow, Arthur, I shall be yours—
yours forever!
“Feb. 8.—We have been married a
week today and are now staying at a
little Bedfordshire village, but Arthur
has been most of the time at Abbing-
hall to show himself there and allay
any suspicion. There is a great ecandal
In tho county over my disappearance,
but his remaining on the spot has re
moved all suspicion from his shoulders.
“Feb. 11.—I am lonely and restless.
It must bo because Arthur is away
again. I wish this vague unrest, this
undefined something, did not creep in
so often. This presentiment of evil
haunts me. Why can I not rest and be
absolutely content, as I was at first?
“Feb. 15.—My nerves are all wrong.
I am always dreading some frightful
calamity. I will shake this feeling off
and ask Arthur when we shall
abroad, as we talked of doing.
“Feb. 16.—Arthur says be cannot
leave England just now—that his funds
are low and that he has some specula
tions on hand which will demand his
whole attention for the time being, but
we will go when all is settled again.
“Feb. 22.—Yesterday afternoon Ar
thur went to town. He returns by the
mail tonight. I have been horribly rest
less and cannot sleep. I will put on my
blue gown—it is his favorite—and wait
up for him. I have’never done it before.
He will be pleased. ”
go
It
Then came an entry without date,
read thus:
“I am perfectly calm and dispassion
ate now. I am absolutely alone in the
world, and my love is dead. It died
that night, killed by one blow. It is five
months since I wrote those words that
seem to mock me—five mouths since I
dressed to please him. He came and
with him a friend. He seemed sorry I
TO LADIES ONLY.
you ho both youthful and heauti-
l>r. T. Felix Gouraud’s Orien-
am or Magical Beautifier. It
clear, transparent complexion.
Tan. Sunburn, Freckles or
nd Beautify-
time. and so
Would
ful?—use
tal Cre
elicits a
free from
Moth Pa t cites—Purifying
hip: the skin at the same
imitating nature as to defv tlo-
when properly applied. It has the
medical testimony, as well
celebrities, and on
one of
peeialty in the
closely
tection.
highest
as professional
its merits has hocome
the largest and a popular
S e L as w<? » homes of the elite
hnth Europe and America. It is the* old
est preparation on the market—of over
■10 years standing.
in T everi Sh l ° he beautiful is predominant
in every woman, and none can say she
does not care whether she is beautiful
or not-,f only just to please her 'friend
lover or husband. It puts back age in
appearance, at least 10 years by Us won
derful results.
bad waited np. His friend would not
go to bed. He was going on by the down
train in a few hours. I was about to ex
cuse myself and retire when the man
turned to roe:
“ ‘Well, Mrs. Durant, you may con
gratulate yourself on having your hus
band back tonight. Last night’s was
the toughest job we have had for a long
(Continued on Page Eight.)
EPILEPSY
OR FALLING
FITS.
Scrofula — “ Three years ago our son,
now eleven, had a serious case of scrofula
and erysipelas with dreadful sores, discharg
ing and itching constantly. He could not
walk. Several physicians did not help for
sixteen months. Three months’ treatment
with Hood’s Sarsaparilla made him per
fectly well. We are glad to tell others of it.”
Mrs. David Lairp, Ottawa. Kansas.
Blood Poisoning —“ The surgeon said
when he took out the brass shell received in
wound at San Juan Hill two weeks before,
that it would have poisoned me if it bad
not been for my pure blood. I told him it
was Hood’s Sarsaparilla that made it pure.”
George P. Cooper, Co. G, 25th U. S. Inf.,
Washington Barracks, Washington, D. C.
AbSCOSSOS —“I am past 54 and my
good health is due to Hood’s Sarsaparilla
and Hood's Pills, which purified my blood
and healed the ugly abscesses that troubled
me.” Mrs. Britton C. Estell, Southard, N. J.
Dy SpepEia — “ My husband had dyspep
sia and Hood’s Sarsaparilla cured him.
Our little boy was nervous and the baby
had ulcerous sores. It cured both.” Mrs.
Emma Berk, Portage, Pa.
Indigestion-” I could not eat for some
months on account of distress and indiges
tion. Hood’s Sarsaparilla cured me so that
I can eat and sleep well.” Mrs. G. A. Guntz,
Taylor and Walnut Sts., Wilmington, Del.
Three Troubles —“ I had rheumatism,
weakness of the heart and stomach, with
scrofula. Nothing helped me until I took
Hood’s Sarsaparilla, it relieved me in short
time.” Mrs. R. P. Wallis, Winnisquam, N.H.
A member of my family having been
cured in a wonderful manner of this I rri-
blo disease. 1 will, for the benefit of hu
manity. gladly make known the remedy,
FREE OF CHARGE, to any one address
ing MRS. H. JONES. Box 606. Philadel
phia. Pa. Sample package of remedy
mailed for 5 cents to cover postage.
BRANCH’S GENUINE RATTLE
SNAKE WATERMELON SEED.
Carefully selected—kept PI RE thirty
years. No other variety planted. PORE
gjAp-p) impossi hie where i#.hferent kinds
are grown. ATLANTA CONSTITU I ION
pronounced BRANCH S melons finest in
the world. 1 oz. 10 cents, 3-4 lb. 35c. 3-2 lb.,
63c. 3 lb.. $1.25. delivered. Remit, registered
letter or money order.
M. I. BRANCH.
Berzelia, Columbia, Co.. Ga.
“AMONG THE OZAEKS.’’
The Land of Big Apples, is an attrae-
tive and interesting book, with views of
South Missouri scenery. It pertains to
fruit-raising in that great fruit belt of
America, the southern slope of the
Ozarks, and is of interest to fruit grow
ers and to every farmer and home seek
er looking for a farm and a home. Mailed
fre£. Address
J. E. LOCKWOOD.
Kansas City — — — — Missouri.
MUST HAVE
AOFNT^ AT ONCE
SampleSanh Lock fr*-
. Df»tter than weights , Lur^lar
Write quick. Address
l*l£OEIAKl> A CO., Dept. 7, I'iilladelphiu, I*a.
and Door Holder
cent stamp. Imroei
proof. _ 3»» i<) a ilii
Finest Passenger Service
No trouble to answer questions,
for new book on Texas free.
Write
E. P. TURNER.
Genera] Passenger and Ticket Agent.
L. S. THORNE,
Vice-Pres. & Gen. M’g’r.
DALLAS, TEXAS.
DOUBLE DAILY
SERVICE
TO T Hi)
EAST.
tions, call on or address agents or'
E. J. WALKER. C. P. & T. A.
W. B. CLEMENTS, T. P. A.
B. A. NEWLAND, G. A. P. D.
ATLANTA, GA.
E. ST. JOHN. V. Pres, and Gen. M - gr.
V. E. MBB1E, General Superintendent
H. W. B. GLOVER, Traffic Manager.
L. S. ALLEN. Gen'l Pass. Agt.
PORTSMOUTH, VA.
BY THE
SEABOARD AIR LINE.
Atlanta to Richmond $14.50
Atianta to Washington 14.50
Atlanta to Baltimore via Washinsr-
J, on 15.70
Atlanta to Baltimore via Norfolk
and Bay Line steamer 15.25
Atlanta to Philadelphia via Wash-
IS. 60
Atlanta to Philadelphia via Nor
folk 18 05
Atlanta to New York via Richmond
and Washington 21.00
Atlanta to New York via Norfolk,
Va. and Cape Charles Route 20.65
Atlanta to New York via Norfolk.
N a., and Norfolk and Washington
Steamboat Company, via Washing
ton 21.00
Atlanta to New York via Norfolk,
Va.. Bay Line steamer to Balti
more, and rail to New York 20 55
Atlanta to New York via Norfolk
and Old Dominion S. S. Co. (meals
and stateroom included) 20 25
Atlanta to Boston via Norfolk and
steamer (meals and stateroom in-
cluded) 2150
Atlanta to Boston via Washington
and New York „ 4 qq
The rate mentioned above to WashFnsr-
ton. Baltimore. Philadelphia. New York
and Boston are $3 less than by any other
al rail line. The above rates apply from
Atlanta. Tickets to the east are sold
from most all points in the territory of
the Southern States Passenger Associa
tion. via the Seaboard Air-Line, at $3 j eS s
than by any other all rail line
For tickets, sleeping car accommoda-
fTOPPED FREE -
Pennaseotly Carol)
•■sanity Prevented fc»
BR. KLINE’S GREAT
°r fcr * n SSEJ!
Kite?, Ltd. HSlerJ
free to Fit
wh*.*n received. ».
Institute of Medici
Within
for sale
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