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THE SUNNY SOUTH
LOST MAN’S LANE
Second Gpisode in the jCife cf Amelia Lutterworth
BY ANNA KATHARINE GREEN.
Author of "The Leavenworth Case,” “Behind Closed Doors,” “That Affair
Next Door,” Etc.—Copyrighted 1897 by the Author, and Printed in
“The Sunny South” by Special Arrangement.
Chapter V. — Loreen, Lucetta and
William.
Had I not caught that look I might
have received an impression of Miss
KnOllys that would in a measure have
counteracted that made by the more
nervous and less restrained Lucetta.
The dignified reserve of her bearing,
the quiet way in which she approached
and above all the even tones in which
she uttered her welcome were such as
to win my confidence and put me at my
ease in the house of which she was the
nominal mistress. But that look! With
that in my memory I was enabled to see
below the surface of this placid nature
and in the very constraint she put on
herself detect the presence of that same
secret uneasiness which had been so
openly if unconsciously manifested by
her sister.
She was more beautiful than Lucetta
in form and feature, and even more
markedly elegant in her plain black
gown and fine lawn ruffles, but she
lacked the evanescent charm of the
other’s smile, and though admirable to
all appearance was less lovable on a
short acquaintance. She had not had as
much suffering as Lucetta.
But this delays my tale, which is one
of action rather than reflection. I had
naturally expected that with the ap
pearance of the elder Miss Knollys I
would be taken to ray room, but on the
contrary she sat down and with an
apologetic air informed me that she was
sorry she could not show me the precise
attentions she wished. Circumstances,
she said, over which she had no control
had made it impossible for them to offer
me the gnest chamber, but if I would
be so good as to accept another for this
one night she would endeavor to pro
vide me with better accommodations on
the morrow.
Satisfied of the almost painful nature
of their poverty and determined to sub
mit to privations if necessary rather
than depart before I had penetrated the
mystery of this remarkable household,
I hastened to say, with what I hope
was sincero good feeling, that any room
would be acceptable to me, and still ex
pecting to be taken up stairs I began to
gather up my wraps, but Miss Knollys
again surprised me by saying that my
room was not yet ready; that they bad
not been able to complete all their ar
rangements, and would I make myself
9 at home where I was till eveuing.
V A* tlih. ww«j takings, deal of jit
woman of my years, fresh from a rail
road journey and with natural habits
of great neatness and order, 1 felt some
what disconcerted, but hiding, it for the
reasons before given 1 laid down my
bundles again and endeavored to make
the test of the somewhat trying situa
tion.
Launching at once into conversation, I
began, as with her sister, to talk about
her mother. 1 had never known, save in
the vaguest way, why Mrs. Knollys had
taken that journey abroad which had
ended in her death and burial in a for
eign land. 1 had heard she had gone
abroad for her health, which had begun
to fail after the birth of Lucetta, but as
she had gone unaccompanied by her
husband or children there was much
that it would be interesting for me to
know concerning these events which I
felt that these girls might be willing to
tell me, but Miss Knollys, intentionally
or unintentionally, assumed an air so
cold at these well meant questions on
my part that I desisted from pressing
her and began to talk about myself in a
way which 1 hoped would establish
really friendly relations between us and
make it possible for her to tell me later,
if not at the present moment, what it
was that weighed so heavily upon the
household that no one could enter into
it without feeling the shadow of the
secret terror that enveloped it.
But Miss Knollys, while more atten
tive to my remarks than her sister had
been, showed still by Certain unmistak
able signs that her heart and interest
were anywhere but in that room, and
while I could not regard this as throw
ing any discredit upon my powers of
pleasing — which have rarely failed
when I have exerted them to their ut
most—1 still could not but experience
the dampening effect of her manner. I
went on chatting, but in a desultory
way, noting all that was odd in her un
accountable reception of me, but giving,
as I firmly believe, no evidence of my
concern and rapidly increasing curiosity.
The peculiarities observable in this
my first interview with these interest
ing but by no means easily to be under
stood sisters continued all day. When
one sister came in, the other stepped
out, and when dinner time came and I
was nshcred down the bare and dismal
hall into an equally bare and unattract
ive diningroom it was to find the seats j
laid for four and Lucetta only seated at !
the head of the board.
“ Where is Loreen?” I asked wonder- j
ingly, as I took the seat she pointed out
to me with one of her faint and quick
ly vanishing smiles. !
“She—sljpe cannot come at present, ”
my young hostess stammered with the
least glance of distress at the large,
hearty looking woman who had sum
moned me to the dining room.
“Ah,” 1 murmured, thinking that
possibly Loreen had found it necessary
to assist in the preparation of the meal,
“and your brother?”
It was the first time he had been
mentioned by any of ua I had shrunk
from the venture out of a motive of
pure compassion, I" think, and they had
not seen fit to introduce-his name into
any of our conversations. Consequently
I waited her response with some anx
iety, having a secret premonition that
in some way he was at the bottom of
my strange reception.
J Her hasty answer, given, however,
! without any increase of embarrassment,
j somewhat dispelled this supposition,
j “Oh, he will be in presently, ” said
I she. “William is never very punctual. ”
But when he did come in I could not
but see that her manner instantly
changed and became almost painfully
anxious. Though it was my first meet
ing with the real head of the house she
waited for an interchange of looks with
him before giving me the necessary in
troduction, and when, this dnty passed,
he took his seat at the table her
thoughts and attention remained so fix
ed upon him that she well nigh forgot
the ordinary civilities of a hostess. Had
it not been for the woman I have spo
ken of, who in her good natured atten
tion to my wants amply made up for
the abstraction of her mistress, I should
have fared ill at this meal, good and
ample as it was, considering the re
sources of those who provided it.
She seemed to dread to have him
speak, almost to have him move. She
watched him With her lips half open,
ready, as it appeared, to stop any inad
vertent expression he might utter in
his efforts to be agreeable. She even
kept her left hand disengaged with the
evident intention of stretching it ont in
his direction if in his lumbering stu
pidity he should utter a sentence calcu
lated to open my eyes to what she so
passionately desired to have kept secret.
I saw it all as plainly as I saw bis
heavy indifference to her anxiety, and
knowing from experience that it is in
just such stolid louts as these that the
worst passions are often hidden I took
the advantage of my years and forced a
conversation in which I hoped some
flash of bis real self would appear de
spite her wary watch upon him.
Not liking to renew the topic of the
lane itself, I asked with a very natural
show of interest how near was their
nearest neighbor. It was be who looked
up and be who answered.
Old Mother Jane is the closest, ” said
he, “but she’s no good. We never think
of her. Mr. Trohm’s the only neighbor
1 care for. He’s some good. Such peach
es as the obMeljWW raises! Such grapes!
Such mePons? Ke gaVe nTSvwo oW'the
nicest you ever saw this morning. By
Jupiter, I taste them yet!”
Lucetta’s face, which should have
crimsoned with mortification, turned
most unaccountably pale. Yet not so
pale as when he began a few minutes
before to say, “Loreen wants some of
thissonpsaved for”—and stopped awk
wardly, conscious perhaps that Loreen’s
wants should not be mentioned before
me.
“I thought you promised me that you
would never again ask Mr. Trohm for
any of his frnit. ”
“Oh, I didn’t ask! I just stood at the
fence and looked over. Mr. Trohm and
I are good friends. Why shouldn’t I eat
his fruit?”
The look she gave him might have
moved a stone, but he seemed perfectly
impervious to it. Seeing him so stolid,
her head drooped and she did not an
swer a word. Yet somehow I felt that
even while she was so manifestly a prey
to very natural mortification her atten
tion was not wholly given over to this
one emotion. There was something over
and beyond all this that she feared.
Hoping to relieve, her and lighten the
situation, I forced myself to smile on
the young man as I said:
“Why don’t you raise melons your
self? I think I should be anxious to
raise everything possible if I had so
much ground as you possess. ”
“Oh, you’re a woman!” he answered
almost roughly. “It’s a good business
for women and for men, too, perhaps,
who love to see fruit hang, but I only
care to eat it.”
“Don’t,” Lucetta put in, but not
with the vigor I had expected.
“I like to hunt, train dogs and enjoy
other people’s fruit,” he laughed, with
a nod at the blushing Lucetta. “I don’t
see any use tn a man’s putting himself
out for things he can get for the asking.
Life’s too short fbr such folly. I mean
to have a good time while I’m on this
blessed sphere. ”
“William!” Theory was irresistible,
yet it was not the cry I had been look
ing for. Painful as this exhibition was
of his stupidity and utter want of feel
ing, it was not the thing she dreaded, or
why was her protest so much weaker
than her appearance had given token of?
“Oh,” he shouted, while she shrunk
with a horrified look. “Lucetta don’t
like that. She thinks a man ought to
work, plow, harrow, dig, make a slave
of himself to keep up a place that’s no
good anyway. Bnt I tell her that work
is something she’ll never get ont of me.
I was born a gentleman, and a gentle
man I will live if the place tumbles
down over our heads. Perhaps it wonld
be the best way to get rid of it. Then
I could go live with Mr. Trohm and
have melons from early mom till late
at night ” And again his coarse laugh
rang out
This, or was it his words, seemed to
rouse her as nothing had done before.
Thrusting out herxiand she laid it on
his mouth with a look of almost frenzied
appeal at the woman who was standing
at his back.
“Mr. William, how can you!” that
woman cried, and when he wonld
have turned upon her angrily she lean
ed over and whispered in his ear a few
words that seemed to cow him, for he
gave a short grant through his sister’s
trembling fingers and with a shrug of
his heavy shoulders subsided into si
lence.
To all this I was a simple spectator,
bnt I did not soon forget a single feature
of this scene.
The remainder of the dinner passed
quietly, William and myself eating with
more or less heartiness, Lucetta tasting
nothing at alL In mercy to her I de
clined coffee, and as soon as William
gave token of being satisfied we hur
riedly rose. It was the most nnoomfort-
able meal I ever ate in my life.
Chapter VT.—A Sombre Evening.
The evening, like the afternoon, was
spent in the sitting room with one of
the sisters. One event alone is worth
recording. I had become excessively
tired of a conversation that always lan
guished, no matter on what topic it
was started, and, observing an old piano
in one comer—I once played very well
—I sat down before it and impulsively
struck a few chords from the yellow
keys. Instantly Lucetta—it was Lucet
ta who was with me then—bounded to
my side with a look of horror on her
face.
“Don’t do that,” she cried, laying
her hand on mine to stop me. Then, see
ing my look of dignified astonishment,
she added with an appealing smile, “I
beg pardon, but every sound goes
through me tonight. ”
“Are you not well?” I asked.
“I am never very well,” she return
ed, and we went back to the sofa and
renewed our forced and pitiful attempts
at conversation.
Promptly at 9 o’clock Miss Knollys
came in. She was very pale and cast, as
nsual, a sad and uneasy look at her sis
ter before she spoke to me. Immediate
ly Lucetta rose, and, becoming very pale
herself, was hurrying toward the door
when her sister stopped her.
“You have forgotten,” she said, "to
say good night to our guest. ”
Instantly Lucetta turned, and, with
a sudden, uncontrollable impulse seized
my hand and pressed it convulsively.
“Good night,” she cried. “I hope
you will sleep well, ” and was gone be
fore I could say a word in response.
“Why does Lucetta go out of the
room when yon come in?” I asked, de
termined to know the reason for; this
peculiar conduct “Have you any other
guests in the house?”
The reply came with unexpected) ve- (
here but the family. ” And she turned
away with a dignity she must have in
herited from her father, for Althea Bur
roughs had every other interesting
quality but that “You must be very
tired,” she said. “If you please, we
will go now to your room. ”
I rose at once, glad of the prospect of
seeing the upper portion of the bouse
She took my wraps on her arm, and we
passed immediately into the halL As
we did so I heard voices, one of them
shrill and full of distress, but the sound
was so quickly smothered by a closing
door that I failed to discover whether
that tone of suffering proceeded from a
man or a woman.
Miss Knollys, who was preceding me,
glanced back in some alarm, but as I
gave no token of having noticed any
thing out of the ordinary she speedily
resumed her way up stairs. As the
sounds I had heard had proceeded from
above I followed her with alacrity, but
felt my enthusiasm diminish .somewhat
when I found myself passing door after
door down a long hall to a room as re
mote as possible from what seemed to
be the living portion of the house.
“Is it necessary to put me off quite so
far?’ ’ I asked as my young hostess paused
and waited for me to join her on the
threshold of the most forbidding room
it had ever been my fortune to enter.
The blush which mounted to her brow
Ehowed that she felt the situation keen
ly-
“I am sure,” she said, “that it is a
matter of great regret to me to be obliged
to offer yon so mean a lodging, but all
our other rooms are—are out of order, ”
she explained firmly, “and I cannot do
otherwise tonight. ”
“Bnt isn’t there some spot nearer
you?” I urged. “A conch in the same
room with yon wonld be more accept
able to me than this distant room.”
“I—I hope you are not timid,” she
began, but I hastened to disabuse her
mind of this at onca
“T am not afraid,” said I, “of any
earthly thing but dogs, but I do not like
solitude. I came here for companion
ship, my dear. I really would like to
sleep with one of yon. ”
This, to see how she would meet such
urgency. She met it as I might have
known she would by a rebuff.
“I am very sorry, ” she again repeated,
“but it is quite impossible If I could
give you the comforts you are accus
tomed to, I should be glad, but we are
unfortunata we girls, and”— She said
no more, but began to busy herself about
the room,' which held but one object that
had the least look of comfort in it That
was my trunk, which had been neatly
placed in one comer.
“I suppose you are not used to can
dles,” she remarked, lighting what
struck me as a very short end from the
one she held in, her hand.
“My dear,” said I, “I can accommo
date myself to much that I am not used
to. I have very few old maid's ways or
notions. You shall see that I am far
from being a difficult guest. ”
She heaved a sigh, and then, seeing
my eye traveling slowly over the gray
discolored walls, which were not reliev
ed by so much as a solitary print, she
pointed to a bell rope near the head of
tiie bed and considerately remarked:
“If you wish anything in the night
j or are disturbed in any way, pull that.
! It communicates with my room, and I
| will be only too glad to come to you. ”
! I glanced up at the rope, ran my eye
along the wire communicating with it
and saw that it was broken sheer off be
fore it even entered into the walk
“I am afraid you will not hear me,”
I answered, pointing to the break.
She flushed a deep scarlet, and for a
moment looked as embarrassed as ever
her sister had done.
“I did not know,” she murmured.
“The house is so old, everything is
more or less out of repair.” And she
made haste to quit the room.
I stepped after her in grim determi
nation.
“But there is no key to the door,” I
objected.
She came back with a look that was
as nearly desperate as her placid fea
tures were capable of.
“I know,” she said, "I know. We
have nothing. But if you are not afraid—
and of what could you be afraid in this
1 house, under our protection and with a
good dog outside?—you will bear with
things tonight, and— Good God, ” she
murmured, but not so low but that my
excited sense caught every syllable,
“can she have heard? Has the reputa
tion of this place gone abroad? Miss
Butterworth, ” she repeated earnestly,
“the house contains no cause of terror
for you. Nothing threatens our guest,
nor need you have the least concern for
yourself or us, whether the night pass
es in quiet or whether it is broken by
unaccountable sounds. They will have
no reference to anything in which you
are interested.”
“Ah, ha,” thought I, "won’t theyl
You give me credit for much indiffer
ence, my dear. ” But I said nothing be
yond a few soothing phrases, which I
made purposely short, seeing that every
moment I kept her there was just so
much torture. Then I went back to my
room and carefully closed the door. My
first night in this dismal and strangely
ordered house had opened anything but
propitiously.
Chapter VII.—The First Night.
I spoke with a due regard to truth
when I told Miss Knollys that I enter
tained no fears at the prospect of sleep
ing apart from the rest cf the family.
I am a woman of courage—or so I have
always believed—and at home occupy
my second floor alone without the least
apprehension. But there is a difference
in these two abiding places, as I think
you are ready by this time to acknowl
edge, and, though I felt little of what
is called fear, I certainly did not experi
ence my usual satisfaction in the mi
nute preparations with which I am ac
customed to make myself comfortable
for the night. There was a gloom both
within and without the four bare walls
between which I now found myself shut
which i would have been something
less than human not to feel, and though
ovqfipe .bv_|t,
I was glair to odd something to the
cheer of the spot by opening my trunk
and taking out a few of those little mat
ters of personal equipment without
which the brightest room looks barren
and a den like this too desolate for
habitation.
Then I took a good look about me to
see how I could obtain for myself some
sense of security for the night, without
which it would be impossible to get
even a modicum of rest The bed was
light and could be pulled in front of the
door. This was something. The win
dows—but there was but one, and that
was heavily draped with some thick,
dark stuff, very funereal in its appear
ance. Going to it, I pulled aside the
heavy folds and looked out. A mass of
heavy foliage at once met my eye, ob
structing the view of the sky and add
ing much to the lonesomeness of the
situation. I let the curtain fall again
and sat down in a chair to think.
The shortness of the candle end with
which I had been provided had struck
me as significant, so significant that I
bad not allowed it to burn long after
Miss Knollys had left me. If these girls,
charming, no doubt, but sly, had
thought to shorten my watch by short
ening my candle I would give them no
canse to think but that their ruse had
been successful. The foresight which
causes me to add a winter wrap to my
stock of clothing even when the weath
er is at the hottest leads me to place a
half dozen or so of candles in my trunk,
and so I had only to open a little oblong
box in my upper tray to have the means
at my disposal of keeping a light all
night.
So far, so good. I had a light, but
had I anything else in case that William
Knollys—but here Miss Knollys’ look
and reassuring words recurred to me.
“ Whatever you may hear—if you hear
anything—will have no reference to
yourself and need not disturb you. ” I
was in no danger myself, but others.
Why did I think there might be others
to whom that reassurance would not
quite apply?
Not knowing how to answer these
thoughts and fully conscious that sleep
would not visit me at once under exist
ing circumstances, I finally made up
my mind that I would not attempt to
lie down till my mind had become bet
ter satisfied that sleep on my part wonld |
be desirable. So after making the vari
ous little arrangements already alluded |
to I drew over my shoulders a comfort
able shawl- and set myself to listen for
what I feared would be more than one
dreary hour of this not to be envied
night.
And here just let me stop to mention
that, carefully considered as all my pre
cautions were, I had forgotten one thing j
upon leaving home that at this minute
made me very nearly miserable. I had
not included among my effects the alco
holic lamp and all the other private and
particular conveniences which I have
for making tea in my own apartment.
Had I had them with me and had I but
been able to make and sip a cup of my
own delicious tea through the ordeal of
listening for whatever sounds might
come to disturb the midnight stillness
of thia house, what relief it would havo
been to my spirits and in what a differ
ent light I might have regarded Mr.
Gryce and the errand into which his
suspicions had driven me. But I not
only lacked this element of comfort, but
the satisfaction of thinking tnat it was
any one’s fault but my own. Lela had
laid her hand on that teapot, but I had
shaken my head, fearing that the sight
of it might offend the eyes of my young
hostesses. Bnt I had not calculated in
being put in a remote corner like this
of a house large enough to accommodate
a dozen families, and if ever I travel
again—
But this is a matter personal to Ame
lia Butterworth, you say, and of no in
terest to us. And you are right. I will
not inflict my little foibles npon you
again.
Eleven o’clock came and went. I had
heard no sound. Twelve, and I began
I to think that all was not quite so still
as before; that I certainly could hear
now and then faint noises as of a door
creaking on its hinges, or the smothered
sound of stealthily moving feet Yet all
was so far from being distinct that for
some time I hesitated to acknowledge
to myself that something was going on
in the house which was not to be looked
for in a home professing to be simply
the abode of a decent yonng man and
two very quiet appearing young ladies,
and even after the noises and whisper
ing had increased to such an extent that
I could even distinguish the sullen tones
of the brother from the softer and more
carefully modulated accents of Lucetta
and her sister, I found myself ready to
explain the matter by any conjecture
short of that which involved these deli
cate young ladies in any scheme of se
cret wickedness.
But when I found there was likely to
be no diminution in the various noises
and movement that was taking place in
the front of the house and that only
something much out of the ordinary
could account for all this stir so long
after midnight in a country bouse I de
cided that only a person insensible to
all sight and sound could be expected to
remain asleep under such circumstances
and that I would seem perfectly justi
fied in the eyes of these young people
themselves for opening my door and
taking a peep down the corridor. So
Without further ado I drew my bed aside
and glanoed out.
All was perfectly dark and silent in
the great house. Tbi only light visible
came from tho candle burning in the
room behind me, and as for sound it
was almost too still—it was tbs still
ness of intent rather than that of natural
repose.
This was so unexpected that for an
instant I stood baffled and wondering.
Then my nose went up, and I laughed
qnietly to myself. I could see nothing
and I could hear nothing, but Amelia
Butterworth, like most of her kind,
boasts of more than two senses, and hap
pily there was something to smell. A
quickly blown out candle leaves a wit
ness behind it to sensitive nostrils like
audittfe%urjtpe*s assuret},®? that
the darkness vrts deceptive. Some one
had just passed the head of my corridor
with a light, and because the light was
extinguished it did not follow that the
person who had held it was far away.
Indeed, I thought that now I heard a
palpitating breath.
“Humph, ” I cried out loud, but as if
in unconscious communion with myself,
“it is not often I-have so vivid a dream.
I was sure that I heard steps in the hall.
I’m afraid I’m growing nervous. ”
Nothing moved. No one answered
me.
“Miss Knollysl” I called firmly.
No reply.
“Lucetta, dear!”
I thought this appeal would go unan
swered also, but when I raised my
voice for the third time a sudden rush
ing sound took place down the corridor,
and Lucetta's excited figure, fully dress
ed, appeared in the faint circle of light
caused by my now rapidly waning can
dle.
“Miss Butterworth, what is the mat
ter?” she asked, making as if she would
draw me into my room, a proceeding
which I took good care she should not
succeed in, however. ■ Giving a glance
at her dress, which was the same she
had worn at the supper table, I laugh
ingly said:
“Isn’t that a question I should rather
ask you? It is 3 o’clock by my watch,
and you, for all your very evident deli
cacy and fatigue, are still up, What
does it mean, my dear? Have I put you
out so completely by my coming that
none of you can sleep?”
Her eyes, which had fallen before
mine, quickly looked up.
“I am sorry, ” she began, flushing
and trying to take a peep into my room,
possibly to see if I had been to bed my
self. “We did not mean to disturb
you, but—but— Oh, Miss Butterworth,
pray excuse our makeshifts and our
poverty. We wished to fix up another
room for you and were ashamed to have
you see how little we had to do it with,
so we were moving some things out of
our own room tonight, and”—
Here her voice broke, and she burst
into an almost uncontrollable flood of
tears.
“Don’t,” she murmured, “don’t,”
as, quite thoroughly ashamed, I began
to utter some excuses. “I shall be all
right in a moment. I am used to hu
miliations. Only,” and her whole body
seemed to join in the plea, it trem
bled so, “do not, I pray, speak quite so
loud. My brother is more sensitive than
even Loreen and myself about these
things, and if he should hear”—
Here a suppressed oath from way
down the hall assured me that he did
hear, but I gave no sign of my recogni
tion of this fact, and Lucetta addod
quickly: “He would not forgive us for
our carelessness in waking you. He is
rough sometimes, but so good at heart,
so good.”
This, with the other small matter I
had just mentioned, caused in me a
slight reaction. He good? I did not be
lieve it Yet her eyes showed no waver
ing when I looked at her fixedly, and
" There Are no Birds
in Last Years Nest/ r
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 andpure.
The difference in a person’s feelings
before and after using it is phenomenal.
Hood’s never disappoints.
Scrofula-” Three years ago our son,
now eleven, bad 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 Laird, Ottawa, Kansas.
Blood Poteoning — ” 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 had
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.
Abscesses—“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.
Dyspepsia—” 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 Bebe, 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. Gcntz,
Taylor and Walnut Sts., Wilmington, Del.
Three Troubles—” I bad 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.
Moods Sc
Hood’s Pilla cure liver ills, the non-irritating and
only cathartic to take with Hood’s Sarsaparilla.
feeling that I had perhaps been doing
injustice to them all and that all I had
seen which was odd and difficult to ex
plain in their conduct was, as she evi
dently meant to intimate, due to their
efforts to make a sudden guest com
fortable amid their poverty, I put the
best face I could on the matter and gave
the poor, pitiful, pleading face a kiss.
(Continued on Page Eleven.)
EPILEPSY
OR FALLING
. FITS.
T A member’ of 'rhy family having^ been 1
cured in a wonderful manner of the ter
rible disease, I will, for the benefit of
humanity, gladly make known the reme
dy, free of charge, to any one addressing
MRS.H.JONES, Box 606, Philadelphia, Pa.
.^LIMITED
A1H5*
DOUBLEDAILY
SERYICE
ATLANTA
TO THfc
EAST.
S3 SAVED
BY THE
SEABOARD AIR LINE.
Atlanta to Richmond 114.50
Atlanta to Washington 14.60
Atlanta to Baltimore via Washing
ton 16.70
Atlanta to Baltlmora via Norfolk
and Bay Line steamer 16.25
Atlanta to Philadelphia via Wash
ington 16.56
Atlanta to Philadelphia via Nor
folk 18.06
Atlanta to New Tork via Rlohmond
and Washington a.00
Atlanta to New Tork via Norfolk,
Va. and Cape Charles Route 20.66
Atlanta to New Tork via Norfolk,
Va„ and Norfolk and Washington
Steamboat Company, via Washing
ton 2L00
Atlanta to New Tork via Norfolk,
Va., Bay Line steamer to Balti
more, and rail to New Tork 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) M.50
Atlanta to Boston via Washington
and New York 24.00
The rate mentioned above to Washing
ton, Baltimore. Philadelphia, New Tork
and Boston are 83 less than by any other
all rail line. The above rates apply from
Atlanta. Tickets to the east are sold
from most all points fn the territory of
the Southern States Passenger Associa
tion, via the Seaboard Alr-Llne, at 83 less
than by any other all rail line.
For tickets, sleeping car accommoda
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. M'BEE. General Superintendent.
H. W. B. GLOVER, Traffic Manager.
L. S. ALLEN. Gen’l Pass. Agt.
PORTSMOUTH. VA.
FOR SALE
Within twenty-three miles of Atlanta,
three hundred and twenty acres of good
farming land at 815 per acre. About
seventy-five acres are cleared. One hun
dred acres especially adapted for a stock
| farm, balance heavily timbered. For
I further Information address W, 36 West
| Baker, Atlanta, Ga.