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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. 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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., JOHN M. VANDIVER, Mgr Ho. 18 Broad St, cm nm> ROHE, GA. FINE WHISilS^BRANDIES, WINES, ETC. .JUG ORDERS PROMPTLY FILLED. -TELEPHONE NO. t A BOON TO MANKINDS D R 'TABLER’S BUCKEYE PILE •Igprsf Sc^roc w roLn "jy ^ cn CURE A New Discovery for the Certain Cure of INTERNAL and EXTERNAL PILES, WITHOUT PAIN. 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