Newspaper Page Text
7 1 7
Cannot be Cost Cut or
Rosnowed with Piasters
Snnrical operations and flesh destroying plasters are useless, painful and dangerous, and besides, never cure Cancer.
No matter how often a cancerous sore is removed, another comes at or near the same point, and always m a worse form.
Does not this prove conclusively that Cancer is a blood disease, and that it is folly to attempt to cure this deep-seated, dangerous
blwd trouble by cutting or burning out the sore, which, after all, is only an outward sign of the disease-a place of exit for
thC Cancer" runs in families through many generations, and those whose ancestors have been afflicted with it are liable at any
time to be stricken with the deadly malady. -
m
Only Blood Diseases can be Transmitted from One Generation to Another
—further proof that Cancer is a disease of the blood. ........ .. .J—1
To cure a blood disease like tills you ufust cure the entire blood svstem—remove everv trace of the poison. Nothing cures
Cancer effectually and permanently but S. S. S. '
S S. S. enters the circulation searches out and removes all taint and stops the formation of cancerous cells. No mere tonic
or ordinary blood medicine can do this. S. S. S. goes down to the’very- roots of the disease, and forces out the deadly poison,
allowing the sore to heal naturally and permanently. S. S. S. at the same time purifies the blood and builds up the general health,
pastes- A I,ttIe ptptple, a harmless looking wart or mole a lump in the breast, a cut or bruise that refuses to
1im1 nnilpr nrrlinnrv i .. •, . . * tat. oe ♦tvic ic Rpcrin inner nr
heal under ordinary treatment, should all be looked upon with suspicion, as tills is often the beginning of
a bad form of cancer. -
,„ Wbidioi; Ave.. Bristol, Tcnn., writes: " I
am 41. years old, and for three years had suffered with a severe form of
tiv-t C IcoulduoMive'more ihif_ d< ? ctors in this city said was incurable.'and
SUC - raontl «- I accepted their statement as
V ever ^big well again, when my drug-
g:sl, knowing ot ray condition, recommended S S *5 Aftpr tskini' a few
• W '' tl ^hoVr C lSie' : in?Se!i t rr,!! ea i 1 ' ) lnUCl1 lo 1Ile “WS*eof the physicians, end
in n short time made a complete cure, i have train** l„ fl.lt, mv nnnetite
is splendid, sleep is refreshing -i„ fact am e.Syim, peSfci'''' 1 ^
enjoying perfect health.*’
Our medical department is in charge of physicians r.f long
irience. who are esn^rialNr cHiici m ,
experience, who are especially skilled in treating Cancer and other blood diseases. Write for any advice
yvanted, we make no charge whatever for this service. ° THE SWIFT SPECIFIC COMPANY, ATLANTA, GA.
f\en-
1
Wed.
Tburs.
JL ROBERT HARDY’S
SEVEN DAY5,
J A DREAM AUD ITS CONSEQUENCES.
f\orj.
Tues.
1
2
Wed.
CHAPTER VI.
Robert Hardy reached his office just
In time to see Burns, the’ foreman, go
out of a side door and cross the yard.
The manager followed him and entered
the machine shop iu time to see him
stop at a machine at the farthest end
of the shop and speak to the man at
.work there. The man was a Norwe
gian, Herman by name. He was run
ning wliat is called a planer, a ma
chine for trimming pieces of cold motal
just from the foundry or the casting
room. He was at work—this morning
on one of the eccentric bars of a loco
motive, and it was of such a charac
ter that he could leave the machine for
several minutes to do the planing.
Burns talked with this man for
awhile and then moved across the floor
to the other workman, a small honed,
nervous little- fellow, who was in
charge of a boring machine which
drove a steel drill through heavy plates
of iron fastened into the frame.
Mr. Hardy came tip just as Burns
turned away from this man and touch
ed him on the shoulder. The foreman
started and turned about, surprised to
see the manager.
“Well, Burns, how goes' everythin;
this morniug?” asked Robert.
“The men here are grumbling be
cause they don't have a holiday same
as the men in Seovillo's department.”
“But we can't shut down the whole
business, can we?” asked Mr. Hardy,
with a momentary touch of his old
time feeling. “The men are unrea
sonable.”
“I’m afraid there’ll be trouble, sir.
I can feel it in the air,” replied Burns.
Mr. Hardy made no reply in words,
but looked at him. Within the black-
: sued area of the great shop about 200
men were at work. The whirl of ma
chinery was constant Tile grind of
steel on Iron was blended with the rat
tle of chains and the rolling of the
metal carriages in 'their tracks. - The
Genius of Railroading seemed present
in the grim strength and rapidity of
several machines which moved almost
ns if instinct with intelligence and
played with the most unyielding sub
stances as'if they were soft and pliable
clay. In the midst of all the smashing
of matter against itself, through the
smoke and din and dust and revolution
of the place,.Mr. Hardy was more than
usually alive this morning to the human
aspect of the ease. His mind easily
went back to the time when he himself
stood at one of these planers and did
just sueli work as that big Norwegian
was doing, only the machines were
vastly better and improved now. Mr.
Hardy was not ashamed of having
come along through the ranks of man
ual labor. In fact, he always spoke
with pride of the work lie used to do iu
.that very shop, and lie considered him-,
self able to run all by himself any
piece of machinery in the shops, but
he could not help envying these men'
this morning. “Why,” be said, “proba
bly not one of them but lias at least
seven weeks to -live and most of them
seven months or years, while I— Why
should these men complain because
they are not released from toil? Isn't
toil sweet when there are a strong body
and a loving wife and a liappy home?
O God,” lie continued to think, “I
would give all my wealth if I might
change-places with any one of these
men and know that I would probably
have more than a week to live.”
Mr. Hardy walked back to the office,
leaving the foreman in a condition of
wondering astonishment.
“Something wrong in his works, 1
guess,” muttered Burns.
Mr. Hardy sat down to his desk and
wrote an order releasing all the men
who desired to attend Scoville’s fu
neral iu the afternoon. He did not
have it in liis power to do more, and
yet lie felt that this, was the least he
could do under tlie circumstances. The
more ho thought of Scoville’s death
the more he felt the cruel injustice of
It. Tlie injuries were clearly acci
dental, but they might liave been
jivoided with proper care for human,
and Robert Hardy-was jtfst be
ginning to understand the value of hu
manity.
He worked hard at the routine of his
office work until noon, ne did what
seemed to film the most necessary part
of it all with conscientious fidelity.
But his mi nil"-a good part of the time
was with tlie men in the shops. He
could not escape the conviction that if
a railroad company luul the willing
ness to do so it could make the sur
roundings of these men safer and hap
pier without getting poorer work or
even losing any money-by it.
When noon sounded, lie went home
resolved to do something as far as lay
in Ills power to make the men feel that
they were regarded as something more
than machines.
George was down stairs when his fa
ther came in and. looked at him with
curiosity raiucr tnan witn any reeling
of shame for the scene.of the night be
fore. After lunch was over Mr. Hardy
called his soil iuto the study jfor a little
talk with him before going sj/own to tbe
BY REV. CHARLES M. SHELDON,
Author of *Tn Hi* Steps" "The Crucifixion of PhUip Strong" “Maicom Kiri'." Etc.
[Copyright, 1900, by Advance Publishing Co.]
Tljurs.
runerai.
“I do not need to tell you, George,”
began his father quietly, but with feel
ing, “that I felt the disgrace of your
drunkenness last night very bitterly.
You caunot know the feelings of your,
father' and mother, in that respect Blit
I did not call yon in here to reproach
you for your- vices. I want to know
what you intend to do in the face of
the present condition^.”
Mr. Hardy paused, then went on
again: “I am perfectly aware, George,
that you regard my dream as a fancy
and think I am probably out of my-
mind. Isn't that true?”
Mr. Hardy looked George full in the
face, and the young man stammered:
“Well—I—ah—yes—I—don’t just un
derstand"—
“At the same time.” went on his fa
ther. “I realize that nothing but a con
viction of reality could produce the
t-liange in -me which you and nil the
rest of the family must acknowledge
has taken place.' And you must con
fess that 1 attracting far more ration
ally ill.'in I did before my dream occur
red. It is not natural for a father to
neglect his own children, and I have
done it. It is not rational that he
“Pfll afraid there’ll he trouble, sir. lean
feel it in the air."
should spend his time and money and
strength on himself so as to grow in
tensely selfish, and I have done that.
My son,.you may doubt me, but I am
firmly convinced that I shall not be
alive here after next Sunday. I am
trying to. live as I ought to live tinder
those conditions. My son,” Mr. Hardy
spoke with dignity and a certain im
pression which George could not but
feel, “F want you to do as you know
you ought to -do under the circum
stances. When T am gone, your moth
er and the girts will look to you for ad
vice and direction. You will probably'
have to leave college for a little while.
We will talk that over this evening.
But I want you to promise me that you
will not touch another glass of liquor
Or liaudlc another card as long as you
live.”
George laughed a little uneasily and
then lied outright: “I don’t see tlie
harm of a game once in awhile just for
fun. 1 don’t play for stakes, as some
fellows do.”
“George,” said his father, looking at
him steadily, “you have not told tlie
truth. You were gambling only a few
uiglits ago. It is useless for you to de
ny it. That is where the very liberal
allowance I have given you has been
squandered.”
George turned deathly pale and sat
Till, bowed head while his father went
on almost sternly: “Consider your
mother, George, whose heart almost
broke when you came in last night! I
don’t ask you to-consider me. I have
not been to you what a father ought to
be. But if you love your mother and
sisters and have any self respect, left
you will let drink and cards alone
after this. In tbe sight of God, my
dear boy, remember what he made
you for. You are young. Yon have
all of life before you. You can make
a splendid record if God spares your
life.
“I would gladly give all 1 possess to
stand where you do today and live my
life over again. I can’t do it The
past is irrevocable. But one can al
ways repent. George, believe me, your
mother would rather see yon in your
coffin than see you come home again as
you did last night We love you”—
Mr. Hardy, proud man that he was,
could say no more. He laid his hand
on the boy’s head as if he were a
young lad again and said simply,
“Don’t disappoint God, my boy,” and
went out, leaving his son sitting there
almost overcome by his father’s pow
erful appeal, but not yet ready to yield
himself to the still small voice that
spoke within ‘ even more powerfully
anil whispered to him: “My son, give
me thine heart. Cease to do evil; learn
to do well. Cleanse tliy ways and fol
low after righteousness.”
It was 1 o’clock when Mr. nardy
came down stairs, and as lie came into
the room uli.ie Mrs. Hardy and.the
I gins were sitting lie Happen; :! to turns
of some business matters lift ween him
self anil ids only brother, who lived in
the next town. 2!) miles down the road.
He spoke of the matter to Mrs.
nardy. and she suggested that Will go
down" on the 3 o’clock train with the
papers Mr. Hardy wanted to have his.
brother look over and come back on
tlie G o’clock in time for dinner.
Clara asked if she couldn’t go. too,
and Bessie added her request, as she
had not seen her aunt for some time.
Mr. Hardy saw no objection to their
going, only he reminded them that he
wanted them all back at 0. Alice vol
unteered to amuse George at homo
while all the rest'were gone, and Mr.
and Mrs. Hardy departed for the fu
neral. Mr. Hardy’s thoughts still ab-'
sorbed for tbe most part with his older
boy. Clara had asked no questions
concerning the interview with James,
and her father simply stated that they
could have a good talk about it in the
evening.
The tenement at No. 7G0 was crowd
ed, and in spite of the wintry weather
large numbers of men and women
stood outside In the snow. Mr. Hatjdy
had ordered his sleigh, and he and bis
wife had gone down to the house In
that, ready to take some one to the
cemetery.
The simple service as it began was
exceedingly impressive to Mr. Hardy.
Most of the neighbors present looked
at him and his well dressed wife In
sullen surprise. She noticed the looks
with a heightening color, but Mr. Har
dy was too much absorbed in his
thoughts of what he had done and left
undone in this family to be influenced
by tlie behavior of those about him.
air. Jones offered a prayer for tlie
comfort of God to rest on the stricken
family. lie then read a -few words
from Johnis gospel appropriate to tbe
occasion and said a few simple words,
mostly addressed to the neighbors
present. Tbe poor widow bad been re
moved to a small room up stairs and
lay there cared for by the faithful sis
ter. Tbe minister had nearly conclud
ed lfisra-emarks when a voice was heal'd
in- the room above, voices expostulat
ing ill alarm and growing louder,.fol
lowed by a rapid movement in the nar
row hall above, and with a scream of
frenzy the wife rushed down the stairs
and burst into the room where the dead
body of her husband lay. She had sud
denly awakened out of the fainting
stupor in wiiieb she had been lying
since her husband's deatb and realized
what was going on in tbe bouse with a
quick gathering of passion and
strength, sneli as even the dying some
times are known to possess. She had
escaped from her sister and the neigh
bor who were watching with her and,
crazy with grief, flung herself over the
coffin, moaning and crying out in such
heartbreaking accents that all present
were for a moment flung into n state of
Inaction and awe.
But Mrs. Hardy was first to move to
ward the stricken woman. Where did
tlie wife, of the once haughty and proud
man learn tlie toucli of sympathy that
drew that other poor sister nearer to
her and finally soothed her into quiet
ness? Certain it is that suffering in
her own home had marvelously taught
the richly dressed woman, the refined,
cultured lady, to hold this other one to
be of tlie same household of God whit
her. 0 So it was that she finally succeed
ed in drawing her away into the other
room and there held her, gasping for
breath, now tliat tlie brief strength was
spent, and crying feebly: “O God, help
me! Don't keep me here in this.world
any longer! 1 '
If this Lr’cf scene thrilled the neigh
bors with pity, what shall be said of
Its effect on Robert Hardy? For a
moment it seemed to him more than he
could bear. He started to his feet and
put his hands before bis face. Then,,
calming himself by a great effort he
sat down, and liis face became almost
like a stone in its rigidity. When liis
wife finally succeeded in getting tlie
woman into tlie rear room, bis face re-
pients It nos growing dark. ue.drove
home with his wife and thought with
something of a feeling of pleasure of
tlie evening before Him -.vith liis fam
ily. This second day hail been more
agitating in some ways' than his first.
He had been unnerved" lit tlic Tuiieral
and bad felt remorse more keenly than
he had once thought possible. As he
reviewed the events of the day with,
his wife be felt dissatisfied. And yet
he had truly tried to do his duty in the
light of eternity. What more could he
do?
He felt anxious about George and
told his wife of the conversation he
had with him. Mrs. Hardy felt the
same anxiety with Jier husband. After
the horses veic put up and the father
and mother had gone'Into the. house
they continued the conversation. Alice
was up stairs with George, and the
other children had not come back. It
was dark, bnt husband and wife sat
by tlie light of tbe open fire and talked
together until nearly G o’clock. Mr.
Hardy had just said something about
Clara, and Mrs. Hardy replied,-“Isn’t it
about time they were here?” when the
telephone bell rang in the little office
adjoining the hallway, where Mr.
Hardy did some of the business of
the company, being connected by wire
with the simps. He went in and an
swered the call, and a series of sharp
exclamations and questions was soon
followed by his coming back into the
room where Ids wife sat. By the light
of the open fire she eould see that lie
was very pale. His overcoat was lying
on the couch where he had thrown It
as he came In. He hastily put-It on
and then said to his wife:
“Mary, there lias been an accident
to the- G o’clock way train between'
Baldwin and here, and Burns lias tele
phoned me to come down. Don’t be
alarmed. We will hope for the best.”
Mrs. Hardy started up.
“Why, Will anil Bess and Clara were
coming liome on that train!”
“Mary”—Mr. Hardy’s voice trem
bled, but he tried to speak calmly and
in comfort—“let us hope for tie best”
“What did Mr. Burns telephone?
Tell me all,. Robert. 1 can bear it with
you."
“He telephoned that the train was
derailed and a dozen people killed and
ns many injured t must go down the
road at-once. On. ray Goil, spare our
dear ones!”
Mr. Hardy was almost overwhelmed
by this last stroke, and yet Ue asked
himself how many accidents had oc
curred this last year on the road, and
he hail never given much thought to
the suffering of those families afflicted.
Now perhaps it had come to him, and,
bidding bis wife pray and hope, he
rushed out of the bouse and down t,o
the station with tbe energy and rapidi
ty of the youth who in college days
had taken prizes for athletic superi
ority.
At tlie yard he found a special train
just ready to go to the scene of the ac
cident. It consisted of a wrecking car,
a caboose and one coach wjtb tender
and engine. He mounted the engine
with a feeling that it was a little near
er tlie fatal spot and would reach there
first. At tin last minute no more defi
nite news -vneerning the particular
persons killH anil injured had been re
ceived.
Mr. Hardy felt almost glad of the un
certainty as the engine pulled out and
started on its run of 13 miles, soon at
taining a speed of 53 miles an hour.
The snow was falling In large, moist
flakes. It was growing warmer and
would rain before morning. He gazed
nt the narrow band of light on the
track ahead and leaned forward as if
to help the engine go faster. He did
not speak, and so the train rushed
through the night
And so the second of Robert Ilarily’s
seven days drew to a close.
O God, help me! Don’t keep me here in
this world any longer!'’
taxed, and he breathed more easily,
but as soon as possible be arose anil
went out and stood silent there until
tbe body was brought out anil placed
in tbe hearse. Then be went In anil
spoke a few words to bis wife anil
told Mr. Jones that he could take four
or fiye to the cemetery if they wished
to go. Mrs. Hardy ’would stay with
the suffering widow until he came
hack. Mr. Hardy also whispered some
thing to his minister and gave him a
large roll of bills to be used for tbe
family, then went out again.
That ride in the c-old gray of the .de
clining winter afternoon was a bitter
experience to-Robert. He roused him
self at the grave as he heard the
•ds, “Raise us from the. death of
sin unto the resurrection of righteous
ness,” and .something like a gleam of
hope shot through his heart at the
words’. Surely there was mercy with
him who lin'd conquered death' for tin-
sake of tin- human race.
e drove hack with more pence of
soul than lie had thought possible. By
the time lie had reached 'the shop.teue-
■ ' ‘ ' " -
CHAPTER VII.
As tlie engine drew near the scene of
the wreck a great crowd conlil be seen
standing about the track. Before the
train came to a stop Robert Hardy
leaped down from the'cab and strug
gled forward, uttering cries of wldcb
he himself probably was not conscious.
The accident had occurred upon a
bridge wbfcli spanned a small river in
the vicinity of Baldwin, near which
town Mr. Hardy’s brother lived.
The engine, mail car, two day coach-
5 and two sleepers had crashed
through and, falling a distance of 50
feet,, had partly broken through the
Ice of tbe frozen stream.. To add to. the
horror of the disaster the two sleepers
had caught fire, and there was abso
lutely no means to fight it. Mr. Hardy
caught confused glimpses of men down
on the ice throwing handfuls of snow
upon the blazing timbers in a frantic
attempt to drive back or pat out the
flames. lie fell rather than scrambled
down the steep, slippery bank of the
stream, and then tbe full horror of. the
situation began to dawn upon him.
Tlie.baggage car and tender bad fall
en In suc-b a way that the trucks rested
upright on the ice, and the position of
the timbers was relatively that of the
train before it hail left the track. One
day coach lay upon its side, bnt had
broken completely in two as if some
giant hand had pulled it apart, leaving
the ragged ends of timbers projecting
toward one another In such curious
fashion that if the two ends of the cat-
had been pushed toward the middle
the splintered beams would have fitted
into place almost as if made on a pat
tern. Tlie other day eoacb had fallen
upon one end. anil one-third of the en
tire coach was under water. The other
end. resting partly against the broken
car. stuck up in the air like some cu
rious. fantastic, pillar or ieaning tower.
Mr. Hardy was conscious of all this
and more as he beard the groans of the
injured, and the cries of those begging
GRANDMA
HAD
CONSUMPTION
and I am afraid I have in
herited it. I do not feel
well; I have a cough ; my
lungs are sore; am losing
flesh. What shall I do?
Your doctor says take care of
yourself and take plain cod-liver
oil, but you can’t take it. Only
the strong, healthy person can
take it, and they can’t take it
long. It is so rich it upsets the
stomach. But you can take
SCOTT'S
EMULSION
It is very palatable and easily
digested. If you will take plenty
of fresh air, and exercise, and
SCOTT’S EMULSION steadily,
there is very little doubt about
your recovery.
There are hypophosphites in it;
they give strength and tone up the
nervous system while the cod-liver
oil feejs and nourishes.
s^rr
to be released from the timDers Unaer
wbicb they bad been caught But his
own children! Never had he loved
them as now.
Tlie crowd of people had increased to
a mob. Tbe confusion was tba’t of ter-"
ror. Mr. Hardy rusbed' about tbe
wreck searching for bis children, a
great throbbing at bis heart as he
thought of their probable fate, when
the sweetest of all 'sounds, Bessie’s
dear voice, came to him, and tlie next
minute he had caught up the child as
she ran to him and strained her to his
breast as in tbe old days when he had
carried her about the bouse and yard.
“Where are Will and Clara?”
“Oh, father, they’re here, and Will
wasn't hurt mqeh more than I was,
but Clara has fainted, and she Is lying
down over here!”-
Bess dragged her. father out across
the ice to tlie edge of the bank, where
a number of tbe victims had been laid
on tlie cushions of the scats, some
dead, some dying. There lay Clara
very white and still, with Will bend
ing oyer her. himself bleeding from
several wounds about the head and
hands, bnt still conscious and trying to
restore liis sister.
Mr. Hardy kneeled down in tbe snow
by his sou's side, and Will, seeing him
there, was not surprised, but be sob
bed excitedly, “Oh, she Is dead!”
“No.” replied lier father: “she is not”
Clara stirred, and her lips moved,
but she did not dpen her eyes, and then
her father noticed that a strange mark
lay over her face.
How Mr. Hardy succeeded in carry
ing the girl to the top of the bank;
how he left her there In the care of
brave hearted, women while he went
flown into that hell’s pit to resene vic
tims imprisoned and groaning for help:
how Bess related the accident of the
night and tried to explain bow she
was not hurt except a scratch or two.
because she fell between two car seat
cushions that were jammed aronnd her
and protected her from injury; how the
excitement grew as it was discovered
that the dead and dying would number
more than 73 instead of 10 or 12, as
Burns had telephoned; how finally
Robert' Hardy and Will and Bess and
Clara, with other victims, were taken
back to Barton, where a great c.-owd
of anxious, pale faced people was surg
ing through the station and over the
track; liow James Caxton was first to
board the train down by tbe shops at
the risk of his neck as in the rainy
flarkness be swung himself on the dead
run up to the platform of the coach;
how Mrs. Hardy met her children and
husband; how there was sorrow in
many a home in Barton that night and
for many days to come; bow Mr. Bar
fly finally, a little after midnight, en
tirely exhausted by the events of the
flay and night fell asleep and dreamed
the scene all over again—all this and a
great deal more might be of interest
concerning one of tlie most remarkable
railroad accidents that ever occurred
In this country, but would be out of
place In this narrattre. For it Is all
true, exactly and literally, only the de
tailed horrors of It no pen can describe,
no words can teJL
Mr. Hardy woke about 8 o’clock rest
ed. but feeling very" lame and sore
from liis exertions of the night. His
first thought was of Clara- When be
went to sleep, the girl seemed to be
resting without pain, only that strange
mark across her face made them all!
anxious. It was not a bruise, but It
lay like a brand across tlie eyes, which
had not opened since her father found
her lying by the frozen stream.
James had insisted on staying in the
bouse to be of service, and Mrs. Hardy
had felt grateful for his presence as
•she watched for returning conscious
ness from Clara, who still gave no
more sign of animation, although sbu
breathed easily and seemed to be free
from pain. Every doctor and surgeon
in town had been summoned to tlie
scene of the accident. But Mr. Hardy
felt so anxious for Clara as he came In
and looked at her that he went down
stairs and asked James If he wouldn’t
run out and see if any of the doctors
had returned,
“Yes, sir: I’ll go at once. How Is she
now, Mr. Hardy?” James looked him
in the face with tlie look that love
means when it is true and brave.
“My boy." replied "Mr. Hardy, laying
ills hand on James’ shoulder, “I don’t
know. There is something strange
about it. Get ft doctor if you can. But
I know there must be many other sad
homes today In Burton. Oh, it was
horrible!”
He sat down and covered his face,
while James with a brief "God help us.
sir!” went out In search of a doctor.
Mr. Hardy went up stairs again and.
with his wife, knelt down and offered
ft prayer of thanksgiving and of ap-
peftl.' "O Lord," sftid Robert, “grant
that tbis dear oup of ours may be re
stored to us again- Spare 'us this an
guish, not in return for our goodness,
but out of tby great compassion for
our sins repented of.”
Will and Bess lay In tbe next room,
and now that tbe reaction bail set in
they were sleeping. Will feverish and
restless, Bess quiet and peaceful, as if
nothing had happened out of the usual
order of things.
‘Where is George?” asked Mr. Har
dy as he rose from his prayer.
”1 don’t know, Robert He started
down to the train a little while after
you did. Haven't you seen him?"
"No, Mary. God grant be mny not”—
Mr. Hardy did not dare finish bis
thought aloud.
His wife guessed bis thought and to
gether the two sat hand In hand,
drawn very near by their mutual trou
ble and by all the strange events of
•that strange week, and together they
talked of the accident and of Clara and
James and their eldest son, and then,
Mrs. Hardy said as she trembling drew
her husband’s face near to her:
"Robert do you still have that im
pression concerning the time left yon!
hero to live? Do yon still think this:
week Is to be the end?”
Mrs.. Hardy had a.vngue hope that
the shock of the accident might have
destroyed the Impression of the dream,
but ber hope was disappointed.
“My- dean wife.” replied Robert,,
“there Is not the least doubt In my
many tii tneui i nave wasted in toonsti
selfishness! Mary. 1 should go mad
with the thought if I did hot feel tbe
necessity of making tbis week the best
week of life, only I do not know
what is most important to do. If it
bad been seven mouths or even seven
weeks. I might have planned more
wisely. Oh. it Is cruelly brief, tbe
time! But I must make the wisest
possible use of it. Tbis accident, so
unexpected, has complicated the mat
ter. I had not reckoned on it.”
How many of us do reckon on acci
dents? They, always come into onr
lives w.ith a' shock. Yet it seems possi
ble that a man who lives very close to
God every day might be so ready for
everything that not even the most ter
rible catastrophe could make much
difference to his plans for daily life,
least of all deprive him of his reason,
as it lias so often done. Robert Hardy
was just beginning to realize dimly
that life is not one thing, but many
things, and that its importance is the
Importance which belongs to the char
acter of God himself.
He began to talk calmly with his
wife conci-riling wha^he would do that!
flay and was still talking about it when
James came in with a doctor, who at
once went gj> stairs. He was Just^from
the scene of the accident and bore
marks of a hard night’s work. His
first glance at Clara was hard and pro
fessional. but ns he looked" he grew
very grave, and an expression of seri-
aus surprise came over his weary face.
He laid his hands on the girl’s eyes and
examined them, raised her hand and
flropped it upon the bed again. Then,
turning to the father and mother, he
said gently:
“You must prepare yourselves for a
terrible fact resulting from the aeel-
lent to your daughter. She has snffer-
3d a shock that will probably render
her blind as long as she lives.”
Mr. and Sirs. Hardy listened, pale
faced and troubled. It was hard to
think of the girl, so strong willed, so
passionate and yet so capable of noble
Impulses and loving desires, as all her
life shut up within the darkness thus.
It was bitter to think of this for her.
SVhat would it be to ber when she
uwoke to the whole consciousness of
it?
The doctor spoke again slowly:
“There is another thing you ought to
'be prepared for. In rare eases like this
it happens sometimes that a loss of
hearing accompanies the loss of sight”
Then, after a pause: "And with the
loss of sight anil hearing it is possible
the peculiar shock - has deprived your
daughter of the power of speech. I do
not know yet whether tills lias happen
ed, but I prepare you for the worst”
“Blind and deaf anil dumb!” mur
mured Mr. Hardy, while his wife sat
down and buried her face in the bed
clothes and sobbed. It seemed terrible
to them.
The doctor, after a little further ex
amination, said nothing more could be
done at present gave directions for
certain necessary treatment and de
parted after giving a look at will and
Bess and prescribing for them.
Mr. Hardy went down stairs and
quietly told James all that tlie doctors
luul said. To a man living on the
verge of eternity, ns Mr- Hardy was,
there was no time for evasions or the
postponing of bad news or the utter
ance of soft speeches.
For Infants arid Children,
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At b months old. Yfy**?
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[TO RK COXTINUE0.J
Remarkable Cure of Rheumatism.
Kknxa, Jackson Co., \V. Va.
About three years ago my wife had
an attack of rheumatism' which con
fined her to her bed for over a month
and rendered her unable to walk a
step without assistance, her limhs be
ing swollen to double I heir normal
size. Mr. S. Maddox insisted on my
using Chamberlain's Fain Balm. I
purchased aflfty-cent bottle and used it
accordingtothedirectiopsaiid the next
morning she walked to breakfast with
out assistance in any manner, and siie
has not had a similar attack since.—A.
B. Pausons. For sale by E. Bradford.
“I suppose yon favor peace between
tbe British and the Boers,” he said.
“No,”" frankly replied the packing
house proprietor, “I do not. Not so
long os I can get orders to supply the
British army.”
‘I think UeWitt’s Little Enrly Risers
are tlie best pills in tbe world,” says W.
E. Lake, Happy Creek, Va. They
remove all obstructions of tlie liver anil
bowels, act qniokly and never gripe.
E. Bradfold.
Boer Child—“Father, if I acre carry
ing the Bible in one hand nrnl.n gnn in
the other, and on enemy approached,
which should I drop first?” Boer Fa
ther—“The enemy, my sou.”
J. I. Carson, Protbonotiiry, Washing
ton, Pa, says, “I have found Kodol
Dyspepsia Cnre an excellent remedy in
case of stomach trouble, anil have de
rived great benefit from its use.” It
digests what yon eat and can not fail
to cnre. E. Bradford.
“I’d like to ask yon a serions ques
tion,” said the young-man. “Ho yon
believe in love?” “I do, indeed,” was
the reply, “and am I to consider that a
proposal?"
Otto lyorli, Grand Clianoellor, K. P.,
Boonville, Ind., says, “DeWitt'a Witch
Hazel Salve soothes the most deli-’ate
skin and heals the most stubborn ulcer
with certain ami good results.” Cnns
piles and skin diseases. Don’t liny an
imitation. E. Bradford.
“I like variety in my eating,’’declared
Sterlingworth. “And yet yon posi
tively refuse to cat hash,” replied his
wife, with rebuke in her tone.
VANDIVER WHISKEY CO.,
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.JUG ORDERS PROMPTLY FILLED.
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A New Discovery for the Certain Cure of INTERNAL and
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CURES WHERE ALL OTHERS HAVE TAILED.
Tubes, by mail, 75 cents; Bottles, 50 Cents.
JAMES F. BALLARD, Sole Proprietor, - - 310 North Main Street, ST. LOUIS, MO.
r ^ i\ WHITE’S CREAM
Worms! verhifuce!:
) Host m <2nantity. — Best in Quality. |
For 20 Years Has Led ail Worm Remedies, ^
sold aa.'sr _a.:r,x, 3T>xo.F&GISTS.
;Prepared by JAMES F. BALLARD. St. Louis,
THE NEWS is what you want, and you get
it in The Standard.
Lady—“I think yon arc the worst
looking tramp I ever saw.” Tramp—
“Ma’am, it’s only ’in the presence of
nneommon beauty I looks so had.”
Lady—“Mary, get the poor man some
thing to eat.”
“No family can afford to bo withont
One Minnte Congli Cnre. It will stop
a cough, and a cold quicker than any
other medieiDe,” writes C.W. Williams,
Sterling Run, Pa. It cures cronp,
bronchitis and all throat end lnng
troubles and prevents consumption.
Pleasant and harmless. E. Bradford.
No,Maude dear,there is not ihe slight
est similarity between the eggplant, tho
chickwced and the crocus.
Troubles are like babies; they grow
larger by nursing.
because of the popular impression that,
they can not be cured. Tabler’s Buck
eye Pile Ointment will cure them. It
will cnre them. It has met with abso
lute success. Price, 50 cts. in bottles,
tubes 75c. T. F. Burbank.
She—“We discussed the greenback at
onr stndyclnb today.” “He—Well,what
did yon decide?” She—'‘.That the Gov
ernment should issue enrreney in all
the going tints or not at all.”
“Oh, she is dead!"
mind that my dream was a vision of
wliat will happen. There Is no ques
tion but that after Sunday 1 shall not
lie. with you. This Is Wednesday. How
ligbtninglike the days have flown!
W. H. Shipman, Beardsley, Minn.,
under oath, says he suffered from dys
pepsia for twenty-five years. Doctors
and dieting gave bnt little relief.
Finally he nsed Kodol Dyspepsia Cnre
and now pats what he likes and as much
as he wai is, and he feels like a new
man. It digests what yon eat. E,
Bradford.
Many a man pays spot cash for ev
erything because he can not get credit.
Some people talk about killing time,
but it only tak, s time for time to kill
them.
Hicks—IS it trno, then, that yod are
living beyond yonr station?" Wicks—
Yes—'“Two miles.”
Yon can generally tell whether n
woman lias on a torn glove by tho way
she holds her hands.
A man is perfectly justified in getting
mad when hiB wife persists in nsing his
best razor for cliiropodical purposes.
The small boy who persists in dis
obeying his mother is soon brought to
realization of the slippery ways of yonth.
‘Daubs has painted a dreadfully bad
picture. What shall 1 say about it?"
“l’on can safely say it is full of indi
viduality.
Voice from upstairs-“That yonng
man-ought to be on his way home bw
W. W. Mnyhew, Merton, Wis., says;
,.—. HI. ...... ®
: I consider One Minnte Congli Cu;
most wonderful medicine, qnick and
safe.” It is the only harmless remedy
that gives immediate resnlts. It pares
coughs, colds, croup,bronchitis, grippe,
whooping congli, pn“nmonia and all
throat and lung diseases. Its early nse
prevents consumption. Children always
like it and mothers endorse it. E. Brad
ford.
The nmncceessfnl man consoles him
self with the thought that lots of men
are too brilliant to become famons.
Headache for Forty Years.
For forty years I suffered from sick head
ache. A year ago I began using Celery King.
The result was gratifying and surprising,
my headaches leaving at once. The . head
aches used to return every seventh day, but
ksftiCr—^
thanks w> Celery King, I have had hut one
headache i n the last eleven months. I know
that what cured me will help others.—Mrs.
John D. Van Keuren, Kaugerties, N. Y.
Celery Kin genres Constipation and all dis
eases of the Nerves, Stomach, Liverand Kid
neys. Sold by druggists. 25c. and 50c. 2
Kodol
Dyspepsia Cure.
Digests what you eat.
A Strong Fortification.
Fortify the body against disease
by Tutt’s Liver Pills, an abso
lute cureforsickheadache, dys-
r . this time.” Edith—“He is, papa. Hn’L
‘to'wl«E l Cto4S!& York. •( .picciftusthe moments afej _Howj gpt as fat as the hat-iack.” .
— J. : ; : : . -
Try the
Chattanooga
Weekly
Times.
This is the Presidential elect:
you can't pfFordtobe without a
pepsia, sour stomach, malaria,
constipation, jaundice, bilious
ness and all kindred troubles.
“The Fly=Wheel of Life”
Dr.Tutt; Your Liver Pills are
tii e fly-wheel of life. I shall ever
be grateful for the accident that
brought them to my notice. I feel
as ifjjiad a new lease of life,
airleigh, Platte Cannon, Col.
utt’s Liver Pills
It artificially digests the food and aids
Nature in strengthening and recon
structing the exhausted digestive or
gans. It is the latest discovered digest-
ant and tonic. No other preparation
can approach it in efficiency. It in
stantly relieves and permanently enres
Dyspepsia, Indigestion, Heartburn,
Flatulence, Sour Stomach, Nausea,
SickHeadaclie,Gastralgia, Cramps, and
all other resul ts of i mperfect digestion.
Prepared by E. C. D«».WJtt & Co- Chicago.
K. BRADFORD.
Only 50 cents n year—less than ore cc:
It gives tlie latest political news.up
going to press. lias all the ’ foreign
local and neighborhood ncu-s of t..e
Just <lic paper
i will ‘send 1
The Standard's Clubbing List will save you .
gluey on any paper or magazine you want. I
. , IS fur inforn
WEEKLY TIMES
Chattanooga, Tena