Newspaper Page Text
4 « i
AAAAAAAAAAAMMAMAiMiiiMAAMAAiiAiiiiiAiiiiiilMAA*
8
THE SUNNY SOUTH.
JACK THE INVENTOR
BY EDWARD STRATEMEYER.
Author of ''Under Dewey at Manila," "A Young: Volunteer in Cuba,”
"Young Auctioneers," "Richard Dare's Venture."
As he stood in the cave on Blackbird
island. Jack thought he must be dream
ing—the smoke and shining gold and sil
ver all dancing before his eyes.
• Mechanically he moved forward and
grasped hold of the pistol in Mosey’s
hand. The Irishman was so astonished
that he relinquished the weapon without
an effort.
“Stand right where you are!” com
manded Jack, and he pointed the pistol
so that it was nearly in range of both
men.
“Cornered!'’ cried Corrigan, as he
looked toward the cave entrance, now
blocked by Farmer Farrel and his hired
man. “and the last minute, too.*’
Meanwhile Mont had gone down on' his
knees and was bending over the prostrate
form of Max Pooler, who was bleeding
profusely from the wound in his shoul
der.
Picking up one of the heavy cloth bags
that had contained a part of the scattered
coin, the young man clapped it hastily
over the bleeding spot, tying it in position
with his handkerchief—an action which
chocked the flow considerably.
“My gold! My precious gold and sil
ver.” shrieked Pooler, never deigning to
notice the effect of Mosey s hasty shot.
“Put it back; put it back in the bags! Oh.
don’t let them take it! It’s mine! All
mine!” he whined.
“Never mind.” put in Jack. “Don’t
worry. What’s yours shall remain
yours. Guess we have them safe, eh,
Mr. Farrel?” he continued.
“Looks so,” replied the sturdy farmer.
'•Anyway, I reckon I can keep ’em from
going through this door—the pesky crit
ters!” and, with his gun ready for use,
he stationed himself in the middle of the
passageway, with Deb, Meg and the hired
man behind him.
“What’s the cause of this row?’’ asked
Jack, hardly knowing how to proceed, the
whole affair having happened so unex
pectedly.
He looked at Corrigan and then at
Mosey, but both of these discomfited in
dividuals remained silent.
“They were trying to rob me of my
gold and silver,” cried Pooler. “But
they sha n’t do it!” he added, vehement
ly. “It’s mine, all mine!”
With his restless eyes rolling wildly,
the miser—for Max Pooler was naught
else—reached out his uninjured arm, and
clutching the pieces of money within
reach, stowed them away in his bosom.
“Better keep quiet.” suggested Mont,
placing his hand on the bandaged shoul
der. • “Your wound may be more serious
than you think.”
Max Pooler started.
“Do you—do you think so?” he asked in
a hoarse whisper.
“Not being a doctor. I can’t say any
thing certain. It depends on what direc
tion the bullet took.”
“Can 1 do anything?” put in Deb at this
juncture. She had pushed her way past
the farmer and now stood by the young
man’s side.
“I guess not Deb.” Mont replied. “We
haven’t much at hand in the shape of
hospital supplies,” he added soberly.
“Suppose we try to get him up to the
house?” suggested farmer Farrel, with
out removing his eyes from the two who
had caused all the mischief.
“I won’t leave my gold and silver!”
howled the miser. “Leave me here. Nev
er mind my arm; it will soon get well.
Only take those two men away.”
Max Pooler struggled to his feet. The
movement caused him intense pain, and
he uttered a sharp groan.
“We can’t do as he wishes.” said Jack
to Mont. “He might die. and we would
never forgive ourselves.’
“I know it,” replied the other. “But
it will be a hard matter to separate him
from his money. Besides, what shall we
do with Mosey' and Corrigan?’’
“That’s a sticker. If we had a rope
I’d bind them tighter than they ever
bound me.”
“There’s a rope in that chest,” put in
the miser, who overheard the last re-
n ark. “Tie ’em up—don’t let ’em get
away.”
“It’s sorry ye’ll be for sayin’ that,” ex
claimed Mosey. “Oi’ll tell—hie—all—”
Corrigan caught him by the arm.
“Shut up!” he whispered in his ear.
“Can’t you see Max is excited? Let him
cool down. You will be getting us into
a heap of trouble presently.”
The rope in the chest was long and
heavy, and Jack picked it up with con
siderable satisfaction.
“You first. Mosey.” he said, “and none
of your fooling, mind.”
“That’s all roight. Jack, me b’y. Oi’ll
not run a shtep. Never—hie—moind the
rope.” returned the Irishman, in his oil
iest tones.
“I won’t trust you. Mosey.” returned
the young machinist firmly, and. assist
ed by Mont, he tied the man’s hands be
hind him and his feet in such a manner
that he could barely take a walking step.
“Now, your turn,” said Jack to Cor
rigan.
“What are you going to tie me for?”
asked that individual in pretended sur
prise. “I didn’t shoot him.”
“Perhaps not. but you /were perfect
ly willing to have him shot! Come, quick.
I’m not going to argue all night.”
Corrigan saw that Jack’s patience was
exhausted and that the young machinist
was not to be trifled with. He submitted
without another word.
“Well, what’s to do now.” asked Farm
er Farrel, when the job was finished.
“Suppose we row them over to the main
land and march them to Corney.” sug
gested Jack. “It’s half-past eight now.
We can reach there by ten.”
“I’ll get my -wagon and we can drive
over.” returned the farmer. “But what
of this man here? We can’t leave him.”
“Carry him up to the cottage.” put in
Meg, who had thus far been a silent spec
tator of what was passing. “There’s
medicine there, lots of It. It came
from ”
Max Pooler glared at the girl.
“Shut up. will you!” he snarled. ‘‘How
many times have I got to tell you to make
you mind?”
“You can say what you please,” replied
the girl, boldly, “and I will, too. I’ve left
the island for good, and don’t care what
you do.”
The miser turned pale with rage.
“What!” he cried, harshly. “Leave me!
Why, you good-for-nothin’ ”
In his anger he raised his wounded arm
as if to strike. Jack sprang forward to
defend the girl
But his caution was unnecessary, for at
the same instant Max Pooler gave a
sharp gasp of pain, and wavering back
ward and forward for a second, fell heav
ily to th* 1 floor.
Deb and Meg both gave a shriek. Jack
and Mont turned the wounded man over
on his back.
“Is he—he dead?” asked Deb. She was
white, and trembled all over.
“No. only exhausted,” replied -Mont, af
ter applying his ear to the miser’s breast.
“His passions hold him completely under
control.”
“'Then he is to be more pitied than
blamed.” said the girl sympathetically.
The wound had again commenced to
bleed. Mont adjusted the bandage that
had become displaced, but this seemed to
do little good.
“I will run to the cottage and get anyi
thing you want,” put in Mag. gazing with
softened features at the unconscious
form.
All right,” said Mont, and he named
things which he thought might **• used
to advantage. “And don’t forget jjtenty 1
of linen and some cotton if you have it,”
he added.
The young girl started off at once, and
scon disappeared In the darkness.
Meanwhile the two prisoners were
growing restless.
“Guess me and the man can march the
pesky critters down to the boat,” said
Farmer Farrel, who was weary of watch
ing the pair. “That is. if you don’t mind
going through the wood with us,”f he
continued to Jack.
“Certainly I’ll go.” answered the young
machinist. “Will you stay here. Deb?”
“Yes. I may be needed.” replied the girl.
“We’ll have io dress the shoulder when
Meg returns.”
A moment later the party started off.
Mosey and Corrigan in the center, with
the hired man behind.
Hardly had they left ere Max Pooler
returned to his senses, and sitting up,
suddenly looked around.
“Gone!” he ejaculated. “Did they leave
my money? Did they leave me my shin
ing gold and silver?”
“Yes, it’s all there, so don’t worry,”
replied Mont gently. “You must keep
quiet; it is bad for your shoulder when
you move.”
Max Pooler lay back and eyed the young
man suspiciously.
“You talk as if you meant well,” he
said, “but no one can be trusted nowa
days. Who are you?”
“Oh. never mind that.” replied the
young man. “just keep quiet.’ ’
“But I want to know your name?” per
sisted the wounded man.
“My name Is Monteray Gray?”
The miser leaped to his feet, his teeth
clenched, and his eyes rolling fright
fully.
“It’s a lie!’’ he shrieked. “Monteray
Gray is dead!—dead years ago. He died
on the yacht! I saw him. Oh, you |an’t
fool me! His ghost is in the falls, but he
is dead; and his gold and silver—oh, you
can# fool me! This ain’t his; it’s mine,
all mine!”
ca. cjrup. iainawxxi. L
In time. Sold br drnedste.
HEHEBnaaiag
Chapter XXIII.—A Glimpse of the
i Past.
The miser's wild and unexpected revel
ation was certainly a most astonishing
thing to Mont Gray. As we know, he had
surmised that this strange man knew
much of the history of the past, and he
had already decided to put several ques-
tlohs to Max Pooler on the first available
opportunity. But such a statement as he
had just heard took away his breath, and
he stared at the prostrate man, scarcely
able to move.
Deb, too. was astonished, but. woman
like. paid more attention to the effect
upon the young man than to what was
said.
“Oh. Mont, isn’t it awful?” she exclaim
ed, catching him by the arm. “What
makes you so pale? What is that man
talking about?”
“I can't say. exactly,” he replied, in an
oddly unnatural voice. “My father's
dpath is a mystery to me. This man can
unravel it, I suppose, if he will,'' he add
ed. as he knelt down, and turned Pooler
once more on his back.
The face of the wounded man had lost
all color, and his heart seemed to have
stopped beating.
"If we only had some water it might
keep him.” said Mont. "Although I can't
make anything out of a case like this.”
“There's a brook just outside." returned
Deb. “Wonder if there is a cup anywhere
around?”
In one corner he found a can, such as
is used in preserving vegetables. It was
empty, and. taking it outside, she washed
it thoroughly, and returned with it full of
pure, cold water, with which they bathed
the wounded man's head.
“He is suffering more from the excite
ment than from the pistol shot.” observed
the young man. as he worked away.
“I suppose being surprised by those two
men was the start of it." replied Deb.
The miser was rapidly regaining his
color, and his forehead felt like fire.
Soaking the handkerchief in the can. the
girl bound it over his temples.
Presently Pooler grew restless. He did
not open his eyes, but moved his body
from side to side uneasily.
“He is coming to.” whispered Mont.
“Perhaps you had better go outside. He
may become violent.”
“Never mind if he does.” replied the
girl; “I think I ought to stay, and I won’t
care so long as you are here.” and then,
as Mont gave her a grateful smile. Deb
suddenly blushed and turned away her
face.
“My gold and silver! It’s mine, all
mine!” muttered Pooler to himself. Mon
teray Gray Is dead and it belongs to me,
all. all, all!" He gnashed his teeth. “Oh,
why did I go on that accursed yacht-
evil is always sure to follow! My gold
and silver! All mine!"
A long silence followed, broken only by
the irregular breathing of the exhausted
man.
He has passed into stupor.” said Mont.
"How long it will last I cannot tell.”
Presently Meg returned, carrying a
number of bottles and bandages.
• "Brought all I could carry," she de
clared. “Hope there's what you want
there.”
Deb looked over the list and fixed up a
dcse which Mont poured down the wound
ed man’s throat.
Meanwhile Meg picked up the scattered
coins and tied them up in the various
hags that lay upon the table. How much
there was they could form no estimate,
but it would certainly run up to thous
ands of dollars.
Evidently Max Pooler had not dreamed
of being surprised while counting over
his hoarded wealth, and the demands of
Mosey and Corrigan, who probably had
some hold upon the miser, had led to an
immediate quarrel.
While Meg was still at work. Jack re
turned, somewhat flushed from hurry
ing.
“We don’t know what to do with these
two men,” said he, after taking a look at
Pooler, who still rested quietly. "That
hired man is afraid of his shadow, and
Mr. Farrell hardly thinks he can manage
them alone.”
"Suppose you go with them,” suggested
Mont. “I can get along here alone, and
when you come back you can brtyig a
doctor."
The young man's idea was thought by
all to be a good one.
"But what will you do?” asked the
young machinist of his slstey.
"I’ll do whatever you say. Jack.” was
Deb’s reply.
‘‘I’ll stay here if it's best,” put In Meg.
"I ain’t afraid of anything on this is
land.”
“Perhaps you had better remain, too,
Deb,” said Jack. “I’ll be back with the
doctor just as soon as I can.”
“Wonder if we can't get this man up
to the cottage,” put In Mont. “He'd be
much better off In hts own bed than .
here."
"We can, but carrying may make his
wound worse,” returned "he yourg
. ;'i!niyt ^
"It Isn’t that which 'worries him
most. It’s his money and his conscience,”
declared the young man, as he eyed
Pooler meditatively.
“Then come; we'll lock hands and make
an arm chalf for him to ride In.”
Not without considerable difficulty they
raised the man between them. He now
uttered no sound, and his weight was that
of a dead body. '
Meg led the way, carrying the lantern
which she had taken from the cave. Deb
brought up the rear, her overskirt
weighted down by as many of the bags
of coin as she could carry, which Jack ad
vised should be brought along.
It was a long and tedious walk, for the
greater part In the dark. They rested
twice, and both Mont and Jack gave a
sigh of relief when they deposited their
burden- upon the cot in the front room
of thet cottage.
"There’, now: you’ll have to get along
the best you can.” said the young ma
chinist. “I suppose Mr. Farrel is wonder
ing what keeps me so long. Good night
ail:” and off he went toward the shore.
Meg brought some extra blankets from
the other beds, and Mont prepared a rest
ing place for the unconscious man. plac
ing the wounded shoulder in as comfort
able a position as possible.
“You had both better try to secure a
little sleep.” he said to the two girls. “I
can get along alone. If I need help I will
call you.”
After some discussion both Deb and
Meg retired to what had for many years
been the latter’s resting place, a small
chamber at one end of the garret.
Mont kept a constant eye upon his
strange patient, frequently rearranging
the pillow and watching that the bandage
did not slip from the shoulder.
There was an anxious look in the young
man’s face as he moved about, and It
soon vented itself in a brief soliloquy.
“This man knows all about the past,”
he whispered to himself. “He knew my
father, and he knows uncle Felix. I must
help him to recover and there " he-
rubbed his hand over his forehead: “if
I only knew the truth!”
He noticed that the brow of the miser
gradually grew hotter, and that the man’s
restlessness increased every moment.
”1 don’t know of anything else I can
do,” said Mont to himself. “I hope Jack
will hurry back with the doctor.”
It was not long before Max Pooler was
tossing from side to side.
“My gold and silver!" murmured the
feverish miser. “My shining gold and
silver! You shan't take it away! It's
mine. Ask Felix Gray If It ain’t.”
Mont started.
“What did you say?” he asked, bending
low over the tossing form.
“Water, water!" moaned Pooler, paying
no attention to the question. “Give me a
drink of water. I’m burning up!"
Mont took up the pitcher which Meg
had filled at the spring, and held it to his
lips. The miser took one sip and then
pushed it from him.
"Ha! ha! You can’t fool me!” he
screamed. "YoiTre in the water—the same
old face! Haven’t I looked at you many
a time from the deck of the Kitty? But
you’re dead. yes. dead, and you can’t tell
anything!” and he fell back on the bed
with a groan
"You must keep quiet.” said Mont, who,
to tell the truth, was highly excited him
self. "You are wounded in the shoulder
and will fare badly If you don’t take
things easy.”
But Pooler either could or would not
pay any attention to Mont’s advice. He
kept muttering to himself—at one mo
ment apparently In his right mind and at
the next talking at random.
“Who did you say you were?” he asked
during a lucid interval.
The young man did not reply. He knew
that under the ^circumstances to do so
would only excite the man.
“Oh. I know—Monteray Gray. But
you’re not. Monteray Gray is dead,” and
the miser chuckled.
"You are thinking of my father,” said
Mont, finally.
Max Pooler glared at him.
" ’Tain’t so!” he cried, and then, after
a pause: “Who was that other young
man ?”
“My friend. Jack Wlllington.”
"Willington!” gasped Pooler, rising up.
"Both of them: and they have come to
take away the money! But Monteray
Gray and Martin Willington are both
dead, and the gold and silver is mine!
Didn't I tell you so before? It’s all
mine.”
(To Be Concluded Next Week.)
THE BOOK OF THE DAY.
(Continued From Page 5.)
wealth down over her shoulders. When
Brandon saw this he fell upon his knee
and kissed the hem of her gown? and she,
stooping over him, raised him to his feet
and placed her hand in his.”
Thus Mary was married to the man to
save whose life she had four months be
fore married the French king.
Of course Henry VIII. was angry
when he learned what had taken place,
but true to history as to art, the author
ends this romance happily.
The conclusion reads:
”So, after all, Mary, though a queen,
came portionless to Brandon. He got the
title but never received the estates of
Suffolk; all he received with her was the
mony I carried to him from France Never
theless. Brandon thought himself the
richest man in all the earth, and surely
he was one of the happiest. Such a
woman as Mary is dangerous, except
in a state complete subjection—but
she was bound hand and foot in the
silken meshes of her own weaving, and
her power for bliss-making was almost
infinite. ilij
And now it was. as all who read may
know, that his fair, sweet, wilful Mary
dropped out of history—a sure token that
her heart was her husband’s throne.her
soul his empire, her every wish his sub
ject, and her will, so masterful with oth
ers. the meek and lowly servant of her
strong but gentle lord and master,
Charles Brandon. Duke of Suffolk.”
MART TUDOR.
We have an admirable study of woman
kind in Mr. Majors' portrayal of Mary
Tudor that must place him in the front
ranks. In the average heroine we are li
able to find one trait made conspicuous
which makes her different from her sis
ters.
She, Is saintly and isolated, like Agnes
Wakefield, or sparkling and crafty like
Becky Sharp. or unsophisticated and
trusting like Romola. or proud and un
happy like Lady Dedlock, or wilful and
passionate like Annie Karenina, or Es
ther Summerson. But Mary Tudor differs
from ail these. There is no one
trait that seems to be an index to
her character. She seems to represent
the whole woman sex, with all tts foi
bles, alluring graces and Inherent good
ness. At times she is gay, then she
seems to be “beauty that must die, and
joy whose hand is ever at his lips bidding
adieu.” Like the picture drawn by
Shakespeare,
"Patience and sorrow strove
Who could express her goodliest. You
have seen
Sunshine and rain at once; her smiles and
tears
Were like a better way; those happy
smiles.
That played on her ripe lips, seemed not
to know
What guests were In her eyes; which
parted thence
As pearls from diamonds dropped. In
brief.
Sorrow would be a rarity most beloved,
If all could so become it.”
AN EDITION.
-^.‘jtion is a eafhr-y, -$rm,
and may mean much or little. Many
people Imagine when the statement Is
made that the book Is in its nineteenth
edition, that only nineteen thousand cop
ies have been sold. A recent copy of the
Bookman says: ” ‘When Knighthood
was in Flower’ has just scored a dis
tinct hit in New York. The book has been
compared in its vivid historical portrayal
to the works of Dumas, Shakespeare and
Pepys, by the press of that city. The
fifty-second thousand is just announced
by the publishers.”
We understand that the Bowen-Merrtll
company will call a meeting of publishers
at Indianapolis this fall that some defi
nite meshing may be attached to the term
edition.
There was a garden down a village street
And many people wandered down that
way
Beyond Its confines, somber then and
gray.
To seek still farther on a fair retreat;
But soon the sunbeams’ tinkling hammers
beat
A golden foil and fairies in their play
Disported buds and decked each little
spray
And Queen Titania came and made her
seat;
The golden chalice of the summer cloud
Its blessing sent in softly falling shower
Till countless buds in rich luxuriance
bowed
The branches In a fair and fragrant
bower—
A morning zephyr whispered then aloud
And told the world when Knighthood was
in Flower.
ALONZO LEORA RICE.
Ray’s Crossing, Ind.
A MAGNETIC ATTRACTION.
(Continued From Page 1.)
cared? Not a bit. It only made my tri
umph the more complete; for, in spite of
all—my ugliness, stoutness, baldheadness,
everything—you cannot help loving me.
It's delicious.”
My fiancee picked up her roses and
smoothed them out, poutingly. “Still
there are limits even to love;” she said,
"and I think I quite disliked you when
you said I looked thirty, and that I was
marrying you because I couldn’t get any
one else. Why, I could have married a
dozen,” she put in defiantly.
’’Of course you could, little Mormon,”
I laughed. . "But you knew I was only
teasing, and even had it been true I
should have adored you just the same.”
“But I don’t look thirty, do I Ted?”
she persisted.
"Not any more than I look ugly and
old to you, dearest.” I said, determined
not to give way. "Come, Olive. I am only
thirty-five. Is my face so very plain to
you ?’’
"It’s the loveliest old face In the world.”
declared Olive, “and I wouldn’t have an
other hair on that stupid old head for
all the wealth in the Indies. There!”
And with this I was more than content.
I was radiantly triumphant. I wanted to
go up to every good-looking fellow I met
in the street and console him for his mis
fortune.
I took. too. a cheerful delight in look
ing at my singular countenance in the
glass and comparing my personal defects
with the attractions of the many suitors
who had vainly appealed for my Olive's
hand.
But this conceit was soon knocked out
of me by my wife. After our marriage
she used to sit opposite me at table and
regard me affectionately, but ofttlmes
with that intent scrutiny I knew so well.
Once I asked her what was the proft-
Iem.
“Oh. the old one.” she -said laughingly.
“Dear Ted. do make a grimace now and
again, just to let me see how much uglier
you might have been.”
WOE OF DRUNKARDS.
(Continued from Page Twelve.)
oome up on a mission to a grogshop and,
having finished the mission In the grog
shop, should oome back, taking on the tip
at his wing one drop of alcoholic bever
age, what excitement it. would moke all
through the world of the lost, and, If that
one drop of alcoholic beverage should drop
from the wing of the fiend upon the
tongue of tbs Inebriate, how he would
spring up and ory: “That’s it! That’s it!
Rum! Rum! That’s It!’’ 'And all the
caverns of the lost would echo with the
ory: “Give It to me! Rum! Rum!” Ah,
my friends, the inebriate’s sorrow in the
next world will not be the absence of God
or bolinees or light. It will be the ab
sence of rum. “Look not upon the wine
when it is red, when it nioveth itself
aright in the cup, for at the last it biteth
like a serpent, and it 6tingeth like an
odder.”
When I see this plague In the land and
when I see this destroying angel sweeping
aoross our great cities I am sometimes
Indignant and sometimes humiliated.
When a man asks me, “What are you in
favor of for the subjugation of this evil?”
I answer, “I am ready for anything that
Is reasonable.” You ask me, “Are you in
favorof Sonsof Temperance?” Yes. “Are
you In favor of good Samaritans?” Yes.
“Are you In favor of Good Templars?”
Yes. “Are you In favor of prohibitory
law?” Yes. “Are you in favor of the
pledge?” Yes. Combine all the influ
ences, O Christian reformers and philan
thropists! Combine them all for the ex
tirpation- of this evil.
Thirty women in one of the western
states banded together, and with an espe
cial ordination from God they went forth
to the work and shut up all the grogshops
of a large village. Thirty women, with
their song and with their prayer. And if
1,000 or 3,000 Christian men and women
with an especial ordination from God
should go forth feeling the responsibility
of their work and discharging their mis
sion they could in any city shut up all the
grogshops.
But I must not dwell on generalities. I
must come to specifics. Are you astray?
If there is any sermon I dislike, it is a
sermon on generalities. I want personali
ties. Are you astray? Have you gone so
far you think you cannot get back? Did I
say a few moments ago that a man might
go to a point in inebriation where he could
Dot stop? Yes, I said it, and I reiterate
It. But I want you also to understand
that, while the man himself of his own
strength cannot stop, God can stop any
man. You have only to lay hold of the
strong arm of the Lord God Almighty.
He can stop you. Many summers ago I
went over to Now York one Sabbath even
ing, our church not yet being open for
the autumnal services. I went into a room
in the Fourth ward, New York, where a
religious service was being held for re
formed drunkards, and I heard a revela
tion that night that I had never heard be
fore—15 or 30 men standing up and giv
ing testimony such as I had never heard
given. They not only testified that their
hearts had been changed by the grace of
God, but that the grace of God had extin
guished their thirst. They went on to say
that they had reformed at different times
before, but immediately fallen because
they were doing the whole work in their
own strength. “But as soon as we gave
our hearts to God,” they said, “and the
love of the Lord Jesus Christ has corns
luw eur -out the thim-lun all. gone.
have no more disposition for strong drink. ’ ’
It was a new revelation to me, and I
I CURE FITS
When I say I core I do not mean merely to
Stop them for a time and then have them re
turn again. I mean a radical curt I have made
the disease of FITS, EPILEPSY or FALLING
SICKNESS a life-long study. I warrant my
remedy to cure the worst cases. Because
others have failed is no reason for not now
receiving a cure. Send at once for a treatise
and a Free Bottle of my infallible remedy.
Give Express and Post Office.
Prod W.H.PEEKE, F.D., ^CedarSL v N.Y.
have proclaimed it again and again in the
hearing of those who have far gone astray,
and I stand here today to tell you that the
grace of the Lord Josus Christ cannot
only save your soul, but save your body. I
look off today upon the desolation. Some
of you are so far on in this habit, although
there may be no outward indications of it
—you never have staggored along the
street—the vast majority of people do not
know that you stimulate, but God knows,
and you know, and by human calculation
there is not one chance out of five thou
sand that you will ever be stopped. Be
ware! There are some of you who are my
warm personal friends to whom I roust
say that, unless you quit this evil habit,
within ten years, as to your body, you
will lie down in a drunkard's grave and,
as to you immortal soul, you will lie down
in a drunkard’s hell! It is a hard thing
to say, but it is true, and I utter the warn
ing lest I have your blood upon my soul.
Beware! As today you open the door of
your wine closet let the dottinter flash
that word upon your soul, “Beware!” As
you pour out the beverage let the foam at
the top spell out the word, “Beware!” In
the great day of God's judgment, when a
hundred million drunkards shall come up
to get their doom, I want you to testify
that this day, in lovo of your soul and in
fear of God, I gave you warning in regarc
to that Influence which has already been
felt in your home, blowing out some of its
lights—premonition of the blackness of
darkness forever.
Oh, if you could only hear intemperance
with drunkards’ -bones drumming on the
top of the wine cask the “Dead March”
of immortal souls, you would go home
and kneel down And pray God that rather
than your children should ever become
the victims of this evil habit you might
carry them out to the cemetery and put
them down in the last slumber, waiting
for the flowers of spring to come over the
grave—swoet prophecies of the resurrec
tion. God hath a balm for such a wound,
but what flower of comfort ever grew on
the blasted heath of a drunkard’s sepul
cher?
Big Reductions in
Brass Band Instruments,
Drums and Uniforms. Write for catalog.
445 illustrations, FREE; it gives Band
Music & Instructions for Amateur Bands.
LYON g HEALY 39 Mama SL, Chicago.
The Memphis (Tenn.) Scimitar of April
24th says that the Seaboard Air-Ltne
and the Nashville. Chattanooga and St.
Louis railroad brought into Memphis
yesterday two cars of freight which had
made an actual running time of four and
one-half days from New York. This is
the fastest time made up to date in this
city bY„ raft and .water line, and Is close
to the time made by the rail lines, none
of which run it in less than four days.
— PHOTO GOODS —
OF EVERY DESCRIPTION.
KODAKS, CAMERAS, LENSES, CHEMICALS. MOUNTS, ETC.
GLENN PHOTO-STOCK CO.,
4 WHITEHALL STREET.
ATLANTA, QA.
FROM THE
MANUFACTURER
At wholesale prices,and save two or three profits. This pic
ture represents our No. A, LEATHER TREE SADDLE, the
only genuine leather tree saddle made. The tree in this sad
dle will last a lifetime. It Is almost indestructible. It is
the most comforta bie saddlo ever ridden, and the only one
that will not hur t any horse. PRICE *12.00. For men
weighing more than 150 pounds the price will be from *1.00
to *L50 extra. SE ND US *1.00, and we -will ship you this
saddle C. O. D. E xamlne it at your station, and If satisfac
tory. pay the balance with the express charges to the
agent. WRITE FOR OUR FREE CATALOGUE OF
SADDLERY AND HARNESS; it will open your eyes on
goods and prices.
KENTUCKY SUPPLY CO., 719-721 W. Haiti St., LOUISVILLE, KY.
SOUTHERN BAPTIST CONVENTION,
LOUISVILLE, KY.
MAY 12th-15th, 1899.
«
Special Train Service.
Your attention is respectfully called to the advantages of the route, via
Nashville to Louisville.
The Western and Atlantic Railroad and Nashville. Chattanooga and St.
Louis Railway, in connection with the Louisville and Nashville Railroad, operate
double daily trains between Atlanta and Louisville the year round:
Leave ATLANTA 8.15 a.m. 8.30 p.m.
Leave CHATTANOOGA 1.25 p.m. LOO a.m.
Leave NASHVILLE 7.50 p.m. 7.20 a.m.
Arrive LOUISVILLE 2.30 a.m. 12.25 noon.
In addition to the above unequalled daily train service, a SPECIAL TRAIN
to accommodate the Baptists from North Carolina, South Carolina, Florida and
Georgia points will leave Atlanta Wednesday. May 10th, on the following sched
ule (taking supper ia Georgia and breakfast next morning in Louisville):
SCHEDULES
Leave ATLANTA 4.50 p.m.
Arrive CHATTaNOOGA 9.30 p.m.
Arrive NASHVILLE 2.30 a.m.
Arrive LOUISVILLE 8.00a.m.
This special train, consisting of first-class day coaches and Pullman Palace
Sleeping cars, will run Aiianta to Louisville without change.
Dr. Lansing Burrows and party, of Augusta; Dr. J. L. White and party, of
Macon; Dr. Henry McDonald, Dr. W. W. Landrum and the Atlanta party, will
leave Atlanta 4:50 p. m. for Louisville on this special train on May 10th.
RETURNING.
Your special attention is called to the fact that our double daily train service
from Louisville to Atlanta, and connecting for all points in the Southeast, Is In
effect the year round, and thus you can return to your homes at your leisure
with ease and comfort.
Mammoth Cave.
Mammoth Cave Is between Nashville and Louisville. It is one of Nature's
greatest wonders. A visit will richly repay you. The Cave is only reached via
our line. Come and go with us. Good care will be taken of you returning as well
as going.
For Sleeping Car space write to
JNO. L. EDMONDSON,
Traveling Passenger Agent,
Augusta.
C. E. HARMAN,
Gen’l Passenger Agent,
Atlanta.
•A. .A. AAA AAA.A,