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THE SUNNY SOUTH,
ATLANTA, GEORGIA,
LOST MAN'S LANE
Second Spisode m the «C/fe of •Timelia Lutterworth
BY ANNA KATHARINE GREEN.
Author of “The Leavenworth Case," “Behind Closed Doors,” “That Affair
Next Door,” Eta.—Copyrighted 1897 by the Author, and Printed in
“The-Sunny South” by Special Arrangement.
Chapter VUI.—On the Stairs.
I did not wake»up till inorning. The
room was so dark that I do not know as
I should have wakened then if niv hab
its of exact punctuality had not beeu
aided by a gentle knock at my door.
“Who's there?” .1 called, for I could
not say ‘“Como in” till d had moved my
bed and made way for the door to open.
‘‘Hannah with warm water,”tsaid a
voice, at which I made hasto to rise.
Hannah was the woman!who had wait
ed on us at dinner.
The sight of her pleasant»countenance,
which nevertheless looked a trifle hag
gard I thought, was a welcome relief
after the somber features of the night.
Addressing her wi Ik my usual brusque-
noss, but with quite my usual kindness,
I asked how the young'ladies were feel
ing, this morning.
Her answer made*a great show of
frankness.
“Oh, they aro much* as usual,” said
she. "Miss Loreen is inithe kitchen and
Miss Lucetta will soon be hero to in
quire how you are. I hope you passed a
good night yourself, mat ant. ”
I had slept more than I ought to per
haps and made haste to reassure her as
to my own condition. Then .seeing that
a little talk would not bo unwelcome to
this hearty woman, tired to death possi
bly with life in tins dreary house, I
made some excuse for keepiugiher a few
minutes, saying as I did so:
“What an immense dwelling this is
for four persons to live in, or have you
another inmate which I have not seen?”
I thought her buxom color showed a
momentary sign of failing, but it all
came back with her answer, which was
given in a round, hearty voice.
“Oh, I’m the only maid, madam. I
cook and sweep and all. I couldn’t
abide another near me. Even Mr. Sims
bury, who tends the cow and horse and
who only comes in for his dinner, wor
rits me by spells. I like to have my
own way in the kitchen, except when
the young ladies choose to come in. Is
thoro anything more you want, ma’am,
and will you have tea or coffee for
breakfast?’ ’
I told her that I always drank coffee
in the morning and would have liked
to have added another question or two,
but she gavo me no chance. As she
went out I saw her glance at my candle
stick. '.*!here was uiilv a hui hburnod end
in it. She is calculating, too. how long
I sat up, thought I.
Lucetta stood at the head of the stairs
as I went down.
“Will you excuse mo for a few mo
ments?” said she. “I am not quite
ready to follow you, but will be soon. ”
“I will take a look at the grounds. ”
I thought she hesitated for a mo
ment; then her face lighted up. “Be
sure you don’t encounter the dog,” she
cried and slipped hastily down a side I
hall I bad not noticed tho night before.
“Ah, a good way to keep me in,”
thought L “But I shall sco the grounds '
yet if I havo to poison that dog. ” Not
withstanding, I made no hasto to leave
the house. Some might think that Lu
cetta had got the better of me, but
that is not a good reason for placing
myself in uncalled for danger. I don’t
believe in tempting Providence, espe
cially where a dog is concerned.
Instead of that I stood still and look
ed up aud down tho halls, endeavoring
to get some idea of their plan and of
the location of my own room in refer
ence to the rest.
I found that the main hall ran at
right angles to tho long corridor down
which I had just come, and noting that
the doors opening into it were of a sizo
and finish vastly superior to thoso I had
passed in the corridor just mentioned I
judged that the best bedrooms all lay
front and that I had been quartered at
the end of what hud once been consid
ered as the servants’ hall. At my right, j
as I looked down the stairs, ran a wall 1
with a break beyond which was what
looked like an opening into another cor
ridor, and indeed I afterward learned
that the long series of rooms of which
mine was tho last had its counterpart
on tho other sido of this enormous
dwelling, giving to the house the shape
of a long, square U.
I was looking in some wonderment at
this opening and marveling over the
extravagant hospitality of thoso days
which necessitated such a number of
rooms in a private gentloman’s home
when I heard a door open beyond it and
two voices speaking. One was rough
and careless, unmistakably that of Wil
liam Knollys. The other was slow and
timid and was just as unmistakably
that of the man who had driven me to
this house the day before. They were
talking of some elderly person and I had
good sense enough not to allow my in
dignation to blind me to the fact that
by that elderly person they meant me.
This is important, for their words were
not without significance.
“How shall we keep the old girl out
of the house till it is all over?’ ’ was
what I heard drop from William’s surly
lips.
“Lucettahas a plan,” was the hardly
distinguishable answer. “I am to
take”—
That was all I conld hear; a closing
door shut off the rest, but that was
enough, Soinethicg, then, was going on
in this house of a dark if not mysterious
character, ant) tho attempts made by
these two interesting and devoted girls
to cover up this fact by explanations
founded on tlieir poverty had beeu but
subterfuges after all. Grieved on their
account, but inwardly grateful to the
imprudence of this more than reckless
brother for this not to be mistaken
glimpse into tho truth, I slowly de
scended tho stairs in that state of com
plete self possession which is given by a
secret knowledge of tho intentions
formed against us by thoso whose ac
tions we have reason to suspect.
Henceforth 1 had but oue duty—to
penetrate the mystery of this household.
Whether it was the one suspected by
Mr. Gryce or another of a less evil and
dangerous character hardly mattered in
my eyes. While the blight of it rested
upon this family eyes would be lowered
and heads shaken at their name. This,
if I could help it, must no longer bo. If
guilt lay at the bottom of all this fear
and subterfugo, then this guilt must bo
known; if innocence— I thought of the
brother’s loweriug brow and felt it iu-
compatible with innocence, but remem
bering Mr. Gryce’s remarks ou this sub
ject read an instant lecture to my6clf
and, putting all conclusions aside, de
voted the few minutes in which I found
myself alone in tho dining room to a
careful preparation of my mind for its
duty, which was not likely to be of the
simplest character if Lucetta’s keen wits
were to bo pitted against mine.
Chapter IX.—A Visitor.
When my mind is set free from doubt
and fully settled upon any course, I am
capable of much good nature and seem
ing simplicity. I was therefore able to
maintain my own at the breakfast table
with some success, so that the meal
passed off without any of the disagree
able experiences of the night before.
Perhaps the fact that Loreen presided
at the coffee urn instead of Lucetta had
something to do with this. Her calm,
even looks seemed to put some restraint
upon tho boisterous outbursts to which
William was only too liable, while her
less excitable nature suffered less if by
any chance ho did break out aud startle
the decorous silence by one of his rude
guffaws.
I am a slow eater, but I felt forced
to hurry through that meal or be loft
eating alone at the end. This did not
put mo u • *,.-i • hvr.uir tnvvfrcl
close, for I hated to risk an indigestion
just when my faculties needed to be un
usually alert. 1 compromised by leav
ing the board hungry, but I did it with
such a smile that I do not think Miss
Knollys ever knew that I had not risen
from any table so ill satisfied in years.
“I will leave you to my brother for a
few minutes, ” said she, hastily tripping
from the room. “I pray that you will
not think of going to your room till we
havo had an opportunity of arranging
it. ”
I instantly made up my mind I would
go there, and that, too, before the ar
ranging process was over. But I must
seo what I could make of William first.
I thought that ho was not a very
promising subject as I turned back to
him and followed his huge but ungain
ly figure toward tho front of tho house.
“I thought you might like to see tho
grounds,” ho growled, evidently not
enjoying the role assigned him. “They
are so attractive, ” ho sneered. “Chil
dren hereabout call them the jungle. ”
“Who’s to blame for that?” I asked,
with only a partial humoring of his ill
naturo. “You have a sturdy pair of
arms of your own, and a little trimming
here and a little trimming there would
have given quite a different appearance
to this undergrowth. A gentleman usu
ally takes pride in his place. ”
“Yes, when it’s all his. This belongs
to my sisters as much as to me. What’s
the use of my bothering myself about
it?”
The man was so selfish ho did not
even seem to realize tho extent of the
exhibition he made of it. Indeed he
seemed to take pride in what he prob
ably called his independence. I began
to feel the most intenso aversion for
him, and only with the greatest difficul
ty could prolong this conversation un
moved.
“I should think,” said I, “that it
would be a pleasure for you to give
that much assistance to your sisters.
They do not seem to be sparing in their
attempts to please you. ”
He snapped his fingers, and I was
afraid a dog or two -would come leaping
around tho oornor of the house. But it
was only his way of expressing disdain.
‘‘Oh, tho girls are well enough,” he
grumbled, “but they will stick to the
place. Lucetta might havo married a
half dozen times, and one lime I
thought she was going to, hut she turn
ed straight around and sent him off,
and that made me mad beyond every*
thing. Why should she hang horself on
to me like a bur when there are other
folks willing to take on the burden?”
It was tho most palpable display of
egotism I had ever seen and one of the
most revolting. I was so disgusted by
it that I spoke up without any too much
caution.
“Perhaps she thinks she can be use
ful to you,” I said. “I have known sis
ters give up their own happiness on no
better grounds, ”
“ Useful?” he sneered, “It's a useful
ness a man like me oan dispense with.
Do yon know what I would like?”
We were standing in one of the tan
gled pathways with our faces turned to
ward tho house. As he spoke he looked
up and made a rude sort of gesture to
ward tho blank expanse of empty and
frequently curtainless windows.
“I would like that great house all to
myself, to make one, huge bachelor’s
hall of. I would like to feel that I could
tramp from one end of it to the other
without awakening an echo I did not
choose to hear there. I would not find
it too big. I would not find it too lone
some. I and my dogs would know how
to fill it, wouldn’t we, Saracen? Oh, I
forgot; Saracen is locked up.”
Tho way ho mumbled the last sen
tence showed displeasure, but I gave
littlo heed to that. The gloating way
in which he said he aud his dogs would
till it had given me a sort of turn. I be
gan to have something more than an
aversion for the man. He inspired me
with something like terror.
“Your wishes,” said I with as littlo
expression as possiblo. “seem to leave
your sisters entirely out of your calcu
lations. How would your mother regard
that if she could see you from the place
where she is gone?”
Ho turned upon me with a look of
anger that made his features positively
ugly-
“What do you mean by speaking of
her to me. Have I spoken of her to
you? Is there any reasou why you
should lug my mother into this conver
sation? If so, say so and be”—
Ho did not swear at me; he did not
dare to, but he came precious near to it
and that was enough to make mo recoil. ”
“She was my friend,” said I. “I
knew aud loved her before yon were
born. That was why I spoke of her, and
I think it very natural myself.”
He seemed to feel ashamed. He grum
bled out some sort of apology and looked
about quite helplessly, possibly for the
dog he manifestly was in the habit of
having forever at his heels. I took ad
vantage of this look to smooth my own
ruffled features.
“She was a beautiful girl,” I re
marked on the principle that, the ice
once broken, it is not best to hesitate
about jumping in. “ Was your father
equally handsome for a man?”
“My father—yes, let’s talk of father.
He was a judge of horses, he was. When
he died, there were three mares in that
stable not to be beat this side of Albany,
but thoso devils of executors sold them,
and I—well, yon had a chance to test
the speed of old Bess yesterday. You
weren’t afraid of being thrown out, I
take it. Great Scott, to think of a man
of my tastes owning no other horse than
that!”
“You have not answered my ques
tion.” I spgn’erted. t-nry lye-Vj. * v ’ "at
aud moving toward thegara. ’
“Oh, about the way my father .coked!
What does that matter? He was band-
some though. Folks say that I get what
ever good looks I have from him. He
was big—bigger than I am, 'and while
he lived— What did you make a fellow
talk for?”
I don’t know why I did, but 1 was
certainly astonished at the result. This
great, huge lump of selfish clay had ac
tually shown feeling and was ashamed
of it, like the lout he was.
“Yesterday,” said I, anxious to
change the subject, “I had difficulty iu
getting in through that gato we are
pointing for. Couldu’t you lift it
straight with just a little effort?”
He paused, looked at me to see if I
were in earnest, then took a dogged step
toward tho gate I was still indicating
with my resolute right hand, but before
he could touch it he saw something ou
that deserted and ominous highway
which mado him start in sudden sur
prise.
“Why, Trohm, ” ho cried, “is that
you? Well, it’s an ago since I have seen
you turn that corner on a visit to us. ”
“Somo time, certainly,” answered a
hearty and pleasant voice, and before I
could quite drop the look of mingled
severity with which I was eudeavoriug
to shame this young man into some de
cent show of interest in this place and
assume tho more becoming aspect of a
lady caught unawares at an early morn
ing hour plucking flowers from a stunt
ed syringa a gentleman steppod into
sight on tho other side of the fence with
a look and a bow so genial and devoid
of mystery that I experienced for the
first time since entering the gloomy pre
cincts of this town a complete sensation
of pleasure.
“Miss Butterworth, ” explained Mr.
Knollys with a somewhat forced gesture
in my direction. “A guest of my sis
ter's, ” ho went on and looked as if he
hoped I would retire, though ho made
no motion . to welcome Mr. Trohm in,
but rather leaned a little conspicuously
on the gate as if anxious to show that he
had no idea that the other’s intention
went any further than the passing of a
few neighborly comments at the gate.
I like to please the young even when
they are no more agreeable than this j
host of mine, and if the gentleman who
had just shown himself had beeu equal
ly Immature I would certainly have left
them to have their talk out undisturb
ed, but ho t.as not. He was older; he
■Was even of sufficient years for the
judgment to have been thoroughly ma
tured and his every faculty developed,
X therefore could not seo why my so- i
eiety would be considered an intrusion
by him, so I waited and was the recipi-
ent of his nest sentence,
“I am happy, ” said he, “to have tho
pleasure of a personal introduction to
Miss Butterworth. I did’not expect it.
The surprisq is all the more agreeable.
I only anticipated being allowed to
leave this package pud letter with the
mpid. They pre addressed to you, mad
am, and were left at my house by mis
take. ”
1 eoyid not hide my astonishment..
“I live iu the next house below,”
said ho. “The b*oy who brought these
from the postoffice—you see they are
registered mail matter, madam—was a
stupid lad, and I could not induce him
to come any farther up the road. I hope
you will excuso the presont messenger
and believe there has been no delay.”
I bowed with what must havo seem
ed an abstracted politeness. The letter
was from Now York, and, as I strongly
suspected, from Mr. Gryce. Somehow
this fact creatod in mo an unmistakable
embarrassment. I put both letter and
package in my pocket and endeavored
to meet the gentleman’s eye with my
accustomed ease in the presence of
strangers. But, strange to say, I had no
sooner done so than I saw that he was
no more at his ease than myself. He
smiled, glanced at William, made an
offhand remark or so about the weath
er, but he could uot deceive eyes sharp
ened by such experience asmiuo. Some
thing disturbed him, something connect
ed with me. It made my cheek a little
I hot to acknowledge this even to myself,
j but it was so very evident in his whole
look and manner that I began to cast
I about for the means of ridding ourselves
: of William when that blundering youth
suddenly spoke:
“I suppose he was afraid to come up
I the lane. Do you know, I think you’re
brave to attempt it, Trohm. We haven’t
a very good name up here. ” And with
a sudden, perfectly unnatural burst be
broke out into one of his huge guffaws
that so shook the old gate on which he
! was leaning that I thought it would
tumble down with him before our eyes.
I snwMr. Trohm start and cast a look
in which I seemed to see both surprise
and horror before he turned to me and
with an air of polite’ deprecation anx
iously said:
“I am afraid Miss Butterworth will
( not understand your allusions, Mr.
| Knollys. I hear this in her first visit in
town. ’ ’
As his manner showed even more
feeling than the occasion seemed to
warrant I made haste to answer that I
was well acquainted with the tradition
cf the lane; that its name alone show
ed what had happened here.
His bearing showed an instant relief.
“I am glad,” said he, “to find you so
well informed. I was afraid”—here he
cast another very strange glance at Wil
liam—“that your young friends here
might have shrunk, from sonic sense of
delicacy, from telling you what might
frighten most guests from a lonely road
like this. I compliment you upon their
I thoughtfulness.”
William bowed as if the words of tho
other contained no other sugggesticn
than that which was openly apparent.
Was he so dull, or was he— I had not
time to finish my conjectures even in
my own mind, for at this moment a
quick cry rose behind us, and Lucetta’s
light figure appeared running toward
us with every indication of excitement.
“Ah,” murmured Mr. Trohm, with
an appearance of great respect, “your
sister, Mr. Knollys. I had better be
making on, Good morning, Miss Butter-
_ worth, . * ni sorry that oircumntancea
seem to i.mke*Tf ‘"nnpolsi’bie til &*> to
offer you those civilities which you
might reasonably expect from so near a
neighbor. Miss Lucetta aud I are at
swords’ points over a matter upon which
I still insist she is to blame. Seo how
shocked she is to see me even standing
at her gate. ”
Shocked! I should rather have said
terrified. Nothing but fear—her old
fear aggravated to a point that made all
attempt at concealment impossible—
could account for her white, drawn fea
tures aud trembling form. She looked
as if her whole thought was, “Have I
come in time?”
“What—what has procured ns the
honor of this visit?” she asked, moving
up beside William as if she would add
her slight frame to his bulky one to keep
this intruder out.
“Nothing that need alarm you, ” said
tho other with a slight tone of intention
in his kind and mellow voice. “I was
rather unexpectedly intrusted this morn
ing with a letter for your agreeable
guest here, and I have merely come to
doliver it.”
Her look of astonishment passing from
him to me, I thrust my hand into my
pocket and drew the letter out which I
had just received.
“From home, ” said I without proper
ly considering that this was in some
meusure an untruth.
“Oh!” she murmured as if but half
convinced. “William could have gone
for it,” she added, still eying Mr. Trohm
with a pitiful anxiety.
“I was only too happy,” said the
other with a low and reassuring bow.
Then, as if ho saw that her distress
would only be relieved by his depar
ture, he raised his hat and stepped back
into the open highway. “I will not in
trude again, Miss Knollys,” were his
parting words. “If you want anything
of Obadiah Trohm, you know where to
find him. His doors will always bo
open to you. ’ ’
Lucotta, with a start, laid her hand
on her brother’s arm as if to restrain
the words she saw slowly laboring to
his lips, and leaning breathlessly for
ward watohod the fine fignre of this per
fect country gentleman till it had with
drawn quite out of sight. Then she turn
ed, and with a quick abandonment of
all self control, cried out with a pitiful
gesture toward her brother, “I thought
all was over; I feared he meant to come
into the bouse, ” and fell stark and seem
ingly lifeless at our feet.
Chapter X.—Secret Instructions.
For a moment William and myself
stood looking at each other over this
frail and prostrate figure. Then he stoop
ed aud with an unexpected show of
kindness raised her up aud began carry
ing her toward tho house.
“Lucetta is a fool, ” he cried sudden
ly, stopping and giving me a quick
glance over his shoulder. “Because
folks are terrified of this road and come
to seo us but seldom, she has got to feel
a most unreasonable dread of visitors.
She was even afraid of you coming till
Wo showed her wha« folly it was for
her to think we could always live here
like hermits. Then she doesn’t like Mr.
Trohm; thinks ho is altogether too
friendly to me—as if that was any of her
business. Am I an idiot? Have I no
sense? Cannot I bo trusted to take care
of my own affairs and beep my own se
crets? She’s a weak, silly chit, to go
and flop over like this when, d—n it,
wo havo enough to look after without
nursing her up and—I mean,” he said,
tripping himself up with an air of po
lite consideration so out of keeping with
his usual churlishness as to be more
than noticeable, “that it cannot add
much to tho pleasure of your visit to
have such things happen as this. ”
“Oh, don’t worry about me!” I cried
curtly. “Get tho poor girl in. I’ll look
after her. ’ ’
But as if she heard these words and
was startled by them Lucetta roused
in her brother’s arms and struggled pas
sionately to her feet. “Oh, what has
j happened to me?” she cried. “Havo I
said anything? William, have I said
anything?” she asked wildly, clinging
to her brother in terror.
Ho gavo her a look and pushed her
off.
“What are you talking about?” he
cried. “One would think you had some-
j thing to conceal. ”
She steadied herself up in an instant.
! “Iam tho weakest of the family,”
said she, walking straight up to mo and
j taking me affectionately by the arm.
| “All my life I have been delicate aud
| these turns are nothing new to me.
j Sometimes I think I will die in one of
I them; but I am quite restored now,”
I sho hastily added, as I could not help
, showing my concern. “See! I can walk
I quite alone.” And she ran, rather than
: walked, up the few short steps of the
| porch, at which we had now arrived,
j “Don’t tell Loreen,” she begged, as I
| followed her into the house. “She wor-
I ries so about me and it will do no
I good.”
! William had stalked off toward the
| stables. We were therefore alone. I
I turned and laid a finger on her arm.
“My dear, said 1, “I never make
promises of this kind, but I can bo
i trusted never to heedlessly slight any
! one’s wishes. If I see no good reason
why I should toll your sister of this
fainting fit, I shall certainly hold my
peace. ’ ’
Sho seemed moved by my manner, if
not by my words.
“Oh,” shocried, seizing my hand and
pressing it. “If I dared to tell you of
my troubles! But it is impossible, quite
impossible. ” And before I could urge a
^ plea for her confidence she was gone,
leaving me in the company of Hannah,
who at this moment was busying her
self with something at the other end of
the hall.
I had no wish to interfere with Han
nah just then. I had my letter to read
and wished to do it undisturbed. So 1
slipped into tho sitting room and care
fully closed tho door. Then I opened
my letter.
It was, as I supposed, from Mr. Gryce,
spid rau thus:
; A PAjd- W'V PriV4.;t'ffopTn-j r im asto
«t your determination, but since your desirs
to visit your friends is such as to lead you to
brave the dangers of Lost Mnn’s lane, allow
me to suggest certain precautions which it is
for our credit as well as your own that you
regard.
First.—Do not trust anybody.
Second.—Do not proceed anywhere alone or
on foot.
Third.—If the dangers come to you and you
I find yourself in n condition of real peril, blow
once shrilly on the whistle I inclose with this.
If, however, the danger is slight or you wish
merely to call the attention of those who will
be sot to watch over you, let the blast be
short, sharp and repeated—twice to summon
assistance, three times to call attention.
I advise you to fasten this whistle about
your neck in a way to make it easily obtaina
ble.
I have advised you to trust nobody. I should
have excepted Mr. Trohm, but I do not think
you will he given an opportunity to apeak to
him. Remember that all depends upon your
not awakening suspicion. If, however, you
wish advice or dosiro to make any communi
cation to me or the man secretly holding
charge over this affair in X., seek the first op
portunity of riding into town and go at once
to the hotel where you will ask for room 8. It
has been retained in your service, and once
shown there you may expect a visitor who
will bo the man you seek.
As you will see, every confidence is put in i
your judgment.
There was no signature to this—it 1
needed none—and in the packet which
came with it was the whistle. I was
glad to see it and glad to hear that I
Was not left entirely without protection
in my somewhat hazardous enterprise.
The events of the morning had been
so unexpected that till this moment I
had forgotten my early determination to
go to my room before any change there
could be made. Recalling it now, I
started for the staircase and did not stop,
though I heard Hannah behind, calling
me. The consequence was that I came
full tilt upon Miss Knollys ooming
down the hall with a tray in her hand.
"Ah,” I cried; “some one sick in the
house?”
The attack was too sudden. I saw her
recoil and for one instant hesitate before
replying. Then her natural self posses
sion came to her aid and she placidly
remarked:
“ We were all up to a late hour la6t
night, as you know. It was necessary
for us to have some food. ’ ’
I accepted the explanation and made
no further remarks, but as I had oaught
eight on the tray of the half eaten por
tion of a certain dish we bad bad for
breakfast I reserved to myself the privi
lege cf doubting its exact truthfulness.
To roo tho sight of this partially con
sumed breakfast was proof positive of
there being in the house some person of
whoso presence I was supposed to be
Ignorant—not a pleasant thought under
tho circumstances, but quite an im
portant fact to have established. I felt
that in this oue discovery I had clutched
the thread that would yet lead mo out
of the labyrinth of this mystery,
Mias Knollys, who was on her way
down stairs, called Hannah to take the
tray and, coming back, beckoned me
toward a door opening into oue of the
front room a
“This is to be your room," said she,
“but I do not know that I can move you ✓
today, ’’
She was so calm, so perfectly mistress
44 Better Good A.fa? Off
Than Evil at Hand.”
If the 44 evil at hand" is
a disordered condition of the
blood, the 44 good" is not
44 afar off" Hood's Sar
saparilla is a natural blood
purifier, and ‘within the pos
sibilities of everyone. It
cures scrofula, salt rheum
and every other form of
blood disease.
It relieves dyspeptic troubles and kid
ney and liver difficulties. Its use has
saved thousands of lives and made peo
ple better able to stand the cares and
worries of life.
Eruptions-“I spent hundreds of dol
lars to cure eruptions on my right leg with
out permanent good. Six bottles of Hood’s
Sarsaparilla completely cured me. I am
verv grateful.” Herman Bartlett, 4(>~
Ninth Ave., New York City.
Scrofula Sore —“Enlargement of the
arm bone, with a bunch, proved to be
scrofula. The sore discharged disagreeably.
Hood’s Sarsaparilla healed it all and left
me sound as a nut.” Capt. Wm. >S. Barker,
Box R, Wilson’s, X. H.
Rheumatism - “ Five bottles of Hood's
Sarsaparilla cured my inflammatory rheu
matism, and I can now do my own house
work.” Mrs. H. Crowningshield, 304
Prospect Street, Painesviile, Ohio.
Goitre — “ I had dyspepsia and took
Hood’s Sarsaparilla for it and found bpside
relieving that that by persistent use it cured
the goitre of 15 jears standing. We are
never without Hood's.” Mrs. M. D. Wilaxd,
Box 517, Joplin, Mo.
All Gone — “ Had no appetite or strength,
could not sleep or get rested, was com
pletely run down. Two bottles Hood’s Sar
saparilla cured the tired feeling and I do
my own work.” >1 rs. A. Dick, Millville, X. J.
Catarrh-” I was so low with catarrh
that I could not get around the house.
Tried all sorts of remedies. Hood’s Sarsa
parilla was the last. It cured me.” Mrs.
Charles Rhine, 335 Oak Lane, York, Pa.
The Blood - “ Was tired out, had no
appetite until I took Hood’s Sarsaparilla.
It built me right up and I can eat heartily.”
Etta M. Hager, Athol, Mass.
Mod* Sa/Uafiatufla
llootr.H i’i 11s ciire liver ill*; non-irritating an<l
only ratfia-tio to tauo with Hood’s Sarsajiarj;la.
j of nerself, that jl couid not but admire
her. Lucejta would have flushed and
fidgeted, but Loreen stood as erect and
placid as if no trouble weighed upon
I her heart and the words were as unim-
j portant in their characteras they seemed.
) “Do not distress yourself,” said L
j “I told Lucetta last night that I was
j perfectly conifortnblo and had no wish
; to change nay quarters. I am sorry you
j should have thought it necessary to dis-
| turb yourself on my account last night,
j Don’t do it again, I pray you. A wom-
j an like myself had rather put herself to
j some slight An convenience than move. ”
| “I am much obliged co you, ” said
I she and came at once from the door. I
don’t know but after all I like Lucet-
; ta’s fidgety ways as well as this unmov-
I ed self possession.
(Continuer! on Page Eight.)
JLIMITEB
DOUBLE DAILY
SERVICE
ATLANTA
TO THTa
EAST.
S3 SAVED
BY THE
SEABOARD AIR LINE.
Atlanta to Richmond $14.60
Atiajnta to Washington 14.60
Atlanta to Baltimore via Washing
ton 14.70
Atlanta to Baltimore via Norfolk
and Bay Line steamer 13.23
Atlanta to Philadelphia via Wash
ington . 43.60
Atlanta to Philadelphia via Nor
folk 13.03
Atlanta to New York via Richmond
and Washington 2L00
Atlanta to New York via Norfolk,
Va. and Cape Charles Route 20.55
Atlanta to New York via Norfolk,
Va., and Norfolk and Washington
Steamboat Company, via Washing
ton ai.OO
Atlanta to New York via Norfolk,
Va., Bay Line steamer to Balti
more, and rail to New York 20.53
Atlanta to New York via Norfolk
and Old Dominion S. 8. Co. (meals
and stateroom Included) 20.23
Atlanta to Boston via Norfolk and
steamer (meals and stateroom In
cluded) 21.60
Atlanta to Boston via Washington
and New York 24.00
The rate mentioned above to Washing
ton. Baltimore, Philadelphia, New York
and Boston are fS less than by any other
all rail line. The above rates apply from
Atlanta. Tickets to the east are sold
from most all points la the territory of
the Southern States Passenger Associa
tion. via the Seaboard Air-Line, at $3 less
than by any ether all rail line.
For tickets, sleeping car accommoda
tions, call on or address agents or
B. J. WALKER, c. P. A 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. K. M'EEE, General Superintendent.
H. W, B, GLOVER, Traffic Manager.
L. S. ALLEN. Gen'l Pass. Ash
PORTSMOUTH. VA.
FOR SALE
Wfthfn twenty-three miles of Atlanta,
three hundred ana twenty acres of good
farming land at $15 per acre. About
seventy-five acres are cleared. One hun
dred acres especially adapted for & stock
farm, balance heavily timbered. For
further Information address W. 3S West
Baker, Atlanta, Ga.