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THE DANVERS JEWELS.
CHAPTER XII. *' ‘
■ l
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All teas over, at Ungt nil in the cart, v-rte.
I passed an uneasy nivht. The wind
moaned wearily round the house, at
one moment seeming to die away alto
gether, at another returning with re
doubled fury, roaring down the wide
chimney, shaking the whole building.
It dropped completely toward dawn, and
after hours of fitful slumber I slept
heavily.
In the gray of the early morning I was
awakened by sopje one coming into lay
room, and started up to find Charlee
standing by my bedside, dressed and
with a candle in his hand. His f ace was
worn and haggard for want of sleep.
“I have come to speak to you before I
go, Middleton,” ’he said, when I was
thoroughly awake. “Ralph and I are off
by the early train. Will you tell my
father that we may not be able to return
till tomorrow, if then; and may I count
upon you to keep all yon saw and heard
secret up til after our return?”
“Where aro you going?”
“To London. We start in twenty
minutes. I don't think it is the least
use, but Ralph insists on going, and I
cannot let him go alone.”
"My dear Charles,” I said (all my
anger had vanished at the sight of his
worn face), “I will accompany you.”
“Not for worlds!” he replied hastily.
“It would be no good. Indeed I should
not wish it.” _ ,
But I knew better.
“An old head is often of use,” 1 re
plied, rapidly getting into my clothes.
“You may count on me, Charles. 1
shall be ready in ten mi nines.”
Charles made some pretence at annoy
ance, but I was not to be dissuaded. I
knew very well how invaluable the judg
ment of an elder man of experience
could be on critical occasions, and be
sides I always make a point of seeing
everything 1 can on all occasions. In
ten minutes I was down in the dining
room, where beside a spluttering fire
the brothers, both heavily booted and
ulstered, were drinking coffee by candle
light. A hastily laid breakfast was on
the table, but it hail not been touched.
The gray morning light was turning the
flame of the candles to a rusty yellow,
and odtside upon the wide stone sills the
mow lay high against the patios.
Ralph was sitting with bent head by
the fire, stiqk and cap in hand, his heavy
boot beating the floor impatiently. He
looked up as I came in, but did uot
speak. The ruddy color In his; cheeks
was faded, his face was drawn and set.
He looked ten years older.
“We ought to be off,” he said at last
in a low vegee.
“No hurry,” replied Charles; “finish
your coffee.”
I hastily drank some also, and tcld
Charles that I was coming with them,
“No,” said Charles.
“Yes,” I replied. “You aro going to
London, and so am I. I have decided to
curtail my visit by a few days under the
circumstances. I shall travel up with
you. My luggage can follow.”
As soon as Charles grasped the idea
that I was uot going to return to Stoke
Moreton his opposition melted a Way. He
even seemed to hail my departure with
a certain sense of relief.
“As you like,” he said. “You can
leave at this unearthly hour if you wish
and travel with us as far as Padding
ton.”
1 nodded and went after my great
coat. Of course I hail not the slightest
intention of leaving them at Padding
ton, but I felt that the time had not ar
rived to say so.
“Here comes the dog cart.” said
Charles as J returned.
Ralph was already on his feet. But
the dog cart, with its great bay horse,
could not be brought up to the door.
The snow had drifted heavily before the
steps and right up into the archway, and
the cart had to go round to the back
again before we could get in and start.
Charles took the reins, and his brother
got up beside him. The groom and I
squeezed ourselves into the back seat. I
could see that I was only allowed to
come on sufferance, and that at the last
moment they would have been willing
to dispense with my presence. Howev
er, I felt that I should never have for
given myself if I had let them go alone.
Charles was not 30 and Ralph several
years younger. An experienced man of
BO to consult in case of need might be of
the greatest assistance in an emergency.
“Quicker!” said Ralph; “we shall miss
the train.”
“No quicker if we mean to catch, it,”
said Charles. “I allowed ten minuses
extra for the snow. We shall do it if
we go quietly, but not if I let him go.
An upset would clinch the matter.”
We drove noiselessly through the great
gates, with their stone lions on either
side, rampant hi wreaths of snow, and
up the village street where life was
stirring yet. The sun was rising
large and red, a ball of dull -fire in the
heavy sky. it seemed to be rising on a
dead world.
Before us only to be seen on my part
by craning ground) stretched the long,
white road. At intervals here *~d there
•mongjthe shroudod fields lay cottars
half hidden by a white network of trees.
Groups of yellow sheep stood clustered
! together under hedgerows, motionless in]
| the low mist and making no sound. A
1 lonely colt, with tail erect, ran beside
us on the other side of the hedge as far
as his field would allow him, his heavy
' hoofs falling noiselessly in the snow.
The cold was intense.
“There will be a drift at the bottom
of Farrow hill," said Ralph; “we shall
be late for the train.”
And in truth, as we came cautiously
down the hill, on turning a corner we
beheld a smooth sheet of snow lapping
over the top qf the hedge oa one side,
like iced sugar on a cake, and sloping
downward to the ditch on the other side
of the road.
“Hold on!” cried Charles, as I stood
up to look, and in another moment we
were pushing our way through the
snow, keeping as near the ditch ns pos
sible—too near, as it turned out. But it
was not to be.
A few yards in front of us lay the
road—snowy, hut practicable; but we
could not reach it. We swayed back
ward and forward; we tilted up and
down. Charles whistled, and made
divers consolatory and encouraging
eonnds to the bay horse; but the bay
horn- began to plunge; he made a side
rpovement; one wheel crunched down
through the ice in the ditch and all was
over, at least nil in the cart were. We
fell soft, I most providentially alighting
on the groom, who was yonng and in
ciiny-1 to be plump, and thus breaking a
fill which to a heavy man of my age
Wight have been serious. Charles and
Ralph were up in a moment.
"T thought I could not do it! But it
was worth a trial,” said Charles, shaking
himself. “George, look after the horse
and cart, and take them straight back.
Now, Ralph, we must run for it, if we,
mean to batch‘the tv in. Middleton, you
had better go back in the cart.” And off
they set, plunging through the show
without further ceremony. I watched
the two dark figures disappearing, aghast
with astonishment. They were posi
tively leaving me behind.
In a moment my mind was made up,
and, leaving the gasping young groom
to look after the horse and cart, I set off
to run, too. It was only a chance, of
ootlrse, but in this weather the train
might be late. It was all the way down
hill. I thought I could do it and 1 did.
My feet were balled with snow; I was
hotter than I had been for years; I was
completely out of breath, but when I
puffed into the little roadside station,
five minutes after the train was due, Ii
could see that it was nqt yet in and that
Ralph and Charles were waiting on the
platform.
“My word, Middleton!” said Charles,
coming to meet me, “I thought I had
seen the last of you when I left you re
clining on George in the drift. Ido
believe you have got yourself into this
state of fever heat purely to be of use to
us two, and I treated you very cavalier
ly, lam sure. Let bygones be bygones,
and let us shake hands while you are in
this melting mood.”
I could not speak, but we shook hands
cordially and I hurried off to get my.
ticket.
“You can only book to Tarborough!”
he called after me, “where we change
and catch the London express.”
The station master gave me my ticket ■
and then approached Charles and
touched his cap.
“Might any of you gentlemen be go-1
ing to London, sir?” he inquired.
“All three of us.”
“I don’t think you will get on, sir.
The news came down this morning that j
the evening express from Tarborough
last night was thrown off the rails by a
drift and got knocked about, and I don’t)
expect the line is clear yet. There will
j l>e no trains running till later in the
day, I am afraid.”
“The night express!” said Ralph sud-i
denly.
“Do you mean the 9 train, which yon
can catch by the 8:02 from here?”
“Yes, sir,”
“She was in it!” said Ralph, in a
hoarse voice, as the man walked away.
; “How late the.train is.” said Charles;]
“quarter of an hour already. . I say,
Jervis,” calling after him. “any partio
-1 ulars about the accident? Serious?”
“Oh, dear no. sir. not to my knowl
edge. Never hoard of anything tat
that the train hail been upset and had
stopped traffic.”
“Not many poople traveling in such
weather at uny rate. I daresay there
! was not a ere;dure who went from here
, by the last train last night?”
| “Only two, sir. One of the young
i gentlemen from the rectory and a young
lady, who was very near late, poor thing,
and all wet with snow. Ah! there she
jis at last!" as the train came in sight,
and he went through the ceremonv of
ringing the bell, although we were a
only travelers on the platform.
; It was only an hour's run to Tar
borough, where we were to join the main
line.
“What are we to do now?” said.Cltarles,
as the chimneys of Tarborough hove in
sight, find the train slackened. “Ten to
one we shall not be able to get on to
London!”
“Nor she either!” said Ralph. “1 shall
ice her! I shall see her here!”
There was an air. of excitement about
the whole station as we drew up ‘before
the platform. Groups of railway offi
cials were clustered together, talking
eagerly; the barmaids were all iooking
out of % the refreshment room door; po
licemen were stationed here and there,
and outside the irdn gates of the station
a little crowd of people were wafting
in the trodden yellow snow, peering
I through the bars.
We got ont, and Charles went up to a
respectable looking man in black, evi
dently an official of softie consequence,
and asked wbat was the matter. The
ffiaii informed him that a special had
been stmt down the line with workmen
to clear the rails, am! that its return,
with the passengers in the ill fated ex
press. was expected at any moment.
“You don’t mean'to say the wretched
passengei%havo been there all night?”
exclaimedA hajrlee. From the man’s ac
count it ujfcearedthafcthe travelers had
taken refuge in a farm near the scene of
the accident, and the snow storm con
i' uirg very heavily, it had not been
tu .ugnt expedient to send a tram down
to.; line to bring them away till after
daybreak. ‘ ‘lt has been gone an hour,”
he said looking at the clock; “and it is
hardly 0 yet. Considering how late we
received notice of the accident —fdr the
news had to travel by night and on foot
lor a considerable distance—l don't think
there has been much delay.”
“Will fill the passengers comeback by
his train?’’ asked Ralph.
; ‘ Yes, Btr.”
“We will wait!” said Ralph; and he
went and paced up and down the most
deserted part of the platform. The man
followed him with his eyes.
“Anxious about friends, sir?” he asked
Charles.
“Yes," I heard Charles say as I went
off to Warm myself by the waiting room
fire, keeping a sharp lookout for the ar
rival of the train. When I came out
some time later, wondering if it were
ever going to arrive at all, I found
Charles and the man in black walking
up and down together, evidently in
earnest conversation. When I joined
them they ceased talking (I never can
imagine why people generally do when
I come bp), and the latter said that he
would make inquiry at the booking
office, and left us.
“Who is that man?" I asked.
“How should I know?” said Charles
absently. “He says he has been a Lon
don detective till just lately, but he is
kn inspector of police now. Well?” as
the man returned.
“Bookingclerk can’t remember, dr; but
the clerk at the telegraph office remem
bers a yonr.g lady leaving a telegram
last night, to be sent on first thing this
morning.”
“Has it been sent yet?”
“YeA, sir; some time.”
“Where was it sent to?”
“That is against the rules, sir. The
clerk has nofright to give information.
Anyhow it is as good as certain from
what you say that the pa?ty was in the
train, and at all events you will not be
kept in doubt much longer,” and he
pointed to the long expected puff of
white smoke in the direction in which
all eyes had been so anxiously turned,
the train came slowly round a broad
curve and crawled into the station.
Ralph had come up, and his eyes were
fixed intently upon it. The hand he laid
on Charles’ arm shook a little as he whis
pered in a hoarse voice;
“I must speak to her alone before any
thing is said."
“Yon shall,” replied Charles, and he
moved forward a little and waited for
the passengers to alight. I felt that any
chance of escape which lay in eluding
those keen light eyes would be small in
deed. / |
} Then ensued a scene of confusion, a
I babel of tongues, as the passengers
poured out upon the platform. “What
was the meaning of it all?” hotly de
manded an infuriated little man before
he was well out of the carriage. Why
had a train been allowed to start if it
was to be overturned by a snow drift?
What had the Qompaay been about not
to make itself aware of the state of the
line? What did the railway officials
mean by—etc., etc.
But he was not going to put up with
such scandalous treatment. He should
cause an inquiry to be made; he should
write to The Times; he should—in short,
he behaved like a true Englishman in
adverse circumstances, and poured forth
abuse like water. Others followed—
some angry, some silent, all cold and
miserable. A stout woman in black who
i had been sent for to a dying child was
weeping aloud; a dazed man with bound
! up head and terrified wife were pounced
upon immediately by expectant friends
; and borne off with voluble sympathy.
| One or two people slightly hurt were
helped out after the others. The train
was emptied at hist. Aurelia was not
there. Charles went down tho length of
the train, looking into each carriage, and
then came back, answering Ralph’s
glance with a shako of tho head. The
man in black, who seemed to have been
watching him, came np.
“Have all come back by this train?”
Charles asked.
“All, sir, except”—and he hesitated—
“except a few. The doctor who went
has not returned, and the guard says
there were some of the passengers badly
hurt—that he would not allow to be
moved from the farm when the train
came for them. The engine driver and
one or two others were”
Charles made a sign to him t be si
lent.
'‘How far is it?” he asked.
“Twenty miles, sir.”
“Are the roads practicable?”
“No, sir. At least they would be very
uncertain once you got into the hmes.”
“We can walk along the line;” said
Ralph. “That must be clear. Let us
start at once.”
“Could not the station muster send ns
down on an engine?” asked Charles.
“We would pay well for it.”
The police inspector shook his head,
but Charles went off to inquire never
theless, and he followed him. I thought
him a very pushing, inquisitive kind of
person. I have always had a great dis
like to the idle curiosity which if con
tinually prying into the concerns of
others. Ralph and I walked up 4nd
down, up and down the now deserted
platform. I spoke to him once or twice,
but he hardly answered, and after a
time I gave it up and we paced in Silence.
At last Charles returned. His request
for an engine had been refused, but a
further relay of workmen was being sent
down the line in a couple of hours' time,
and he had obtained leave for himself
and us to go with them. After two
long, interminable hours of that ever
lasting pacing we found ourselves in an
open truck, full of workmen, steaming
slowly out of the station. At the last
moment the man in black jumped in and
accompanied us.
The pace may have been great, but) to
us it seemed exasperatingly slow, and in
the open truck the cold was piercing.
The Workmen, who laughed and talked
among themselves, appeared to take no
notice of it; but I saw that Charles was
shivering, and presently he made his
brother light his pipe and began to
smoke bard himself,
Raipffs pipe, however, went offt Un
heeded in his fingers. He sat quit* still,
with his back against the side of the
truck, his eyes fized upon the gray hori
izon. Once he turned suddenly to his
brother and said, as if unable to keep
silence on what was In his mind:
“\Vht was her object?”
Charles shook his head.
“They were hers already!” he went on.
“She would have hail them all. If she
had had debts I would have paid them.
What could her object have been?” And
seemingly, without expecting a reply, he.
relapsed into silence.
We had left the suburbs now,-and
were passing through a lonely country.
Here and there a village of straggling
cottages met the eye, clustering round
their little ebureh. In places the hedge
rows alone marked the lie of the hidden
lanes; in others men were digging out
the roads through drifts of snow, and
carts and horses were struggling pain
fully aiong.
In one place a little walking funeral
was laboring across the fields from a
lonely cottage in the direction of the
church, high on the hill, the bell of
which was tolling through the quiet air.
The sound reached us as we passed, and
seemed to accompany us on our way. I
heard the men talking among themselves
that there had been no snow storm like
to this for thirty years, and as they spoke
some of them began shading their eyes
and trying to look in the direction in
which we were going; 1 ]
We hail now reached a low waste of
uninclosed land, with sedge and gorse
pricking up everywhere through the
snow, and with long lines of pollards
marking the bed of a frozen stream.
Near the line was a deserted brick kiln,
surrounded by long, uneven mounds and
ridges of ice, with three poplars mount
ihg guard over it. Flights of rooks
hung over the barren ground and
wheeled in the air with discordant
clamor as we passed—the only living
moving things in the utter desolation of
the Scene. As I looked there was an ex
clamation from one of the workmen and
the engino began to slacken. We were
there at last.
CHAPTER Xin.
It was Aurelia!
The engine and trucks stopped, the
men shouldered their tools and tumbled
out and we followed them. A few hun
dred paces in front of us was a railway
bridge, over which a road passed, and
under which the rail went at a sharp
curve. The snow had drifted heavily
against the bridge with its high earth
embankment, making manifest at a
glance the cause of the disaster.
The bridge was crowded with human
figures, and on the line below men were
working in the drift amid piles of debris
and splintered wood. The wrecked train
had all been slightly draped in snow; the
engine alone, barely cold, lying black
and grim, like some mighty giant, for
midable in death. A sheet of glass ice
near it showed how the boiler had burst.
Some of the hindermost carriages were
| still standing or had fallen comparative-
I ly uninjured; but others seemed to have
leaped upon their fellows and plowed
■ right through them into the drift. It
| was well that it began to snow as we
| reached the spot. There were traces of
j dismal smears on the white. ground
which it would be seemly to hide.
Our friend in black went forward and
asked a few questions of the man in
chargeand presently returned.
“The remainder of the passengers are
at t&e farm,” he said, pointing to a house
at a little distance, and without further
delay we began to scramble up the steep
embankment and clamber over the stone
wall of the bridge into the road. My
mind was full of other things, but I re
member still the number of people as
sembled on the bridge, and how a man
was standing up in his donkey cart to
view the scene.
It was Saturday, and there were quan
tities of village school boys sitting
astride on the low wall, or perched on
adjacent hurdles, evidently enjoying the
1 spectacle, jostling, bawling, eating
' oranges and throwing the peel at the
' engine. Some older people touched
their hats sympathetically, and one went
' and opened a gate for us Into a field,
' through which many feet seemed to have
come and gone, but for the greater
number the event was evidently re
garded as an interesting variation in the
dull routine of everyday life, and to the
school boys it was an undoubted treat.
! Ralph and Charles walked on in front,
following the. track across the field. It
was not particularly heavy walking
after what we had had earlier in the
day, but Ralph stumbled perpetually,
and presently Charles drew his arm
through his own mid the two went on
together, the police inspector following
with me.
In a few minutes we reached the farm
and entered the farmyard, which was
i the nearest way to the house. A little
; knot of calves intrenched on a mound of
straw in the center of the yard lowered
' their heads and looked askance at us as
i we came in, and a party of ducks re
-1 treated hastily from our path with a
chorus of- exclamations, while a thin
eoUy dog burst out of a barrel at the
back door and made a series of gym
nasties at the end of a chain, barking
hoarse!}, as if ha had not spared himself
of late.
An elderly woman with red arms met
us at the door, and on a whisper from
the police inspector first shook her head,
and then, in answer to a further whis
per, nodded at another door, and a voice
calling her from within hastily disap
peared.
The inspector opened the door she had
indicated and went in, I with him.
Charles, who had grown very grave,
hnng back with Ralph, who seemed too
much dazed to notice anything in heaven
above or the earth beneath. The door
opened into an outhouse, roughly paved
with round stones, where barrels, staves
and divers lumber had been put away.
There was straw in the further end
of it, out of which a yellow cat raised
two gleaming eyes, and then flew np a
ladder against the wall and disappeared
among the rafters. In the middle of the
floor, lying a little apart, were three fig
ures with sheets over them. Instinctive
ly we felt that we were in the presence
of death. I looked back at Charles and
Ralph, who were still standing outside
in the falling snow. Charles was bare
headed, but Ralph was looking absently
in front of him, seeming conscious of
nothing. The inspector made me a sign.
He had raised one of the sheets, and now
withdrew it altogether. My heart seem
ed to stand still.
It was Aurelia! Aurelia changed in
the last great change of all, but still
Aurelia. The fixed artificial color in the
cheek consorted ill with the bloodless
pallor of the rest of the face, which was
set in a look of surprise and terror. She
was altered bqyond what should have
been. She looked several years older,
but it was still Aurelia. Those little
gloved hands, tightly clinched, were the
same which she had held to the library
fire as we talked the day before; even
the dress was tho same. Alas! she had
been in too great a hurry to change it
before 6he left, or her thin shoes. Poor
little Aurelia!
And then—l don’t know how it was,
but in another moment Ralph was
kneeling by her, bending over her,
t<*ki.og the stiffened hands in Iris trem
bling clasp, imploring the deaf ears to
hear him, calling wildly to the pale lix* B
to speak to him which had done with
human speech. I,could not bear it, and
I turned away and looked out through
the open door at the snow falling. The
inspector came and stood beside me. In
the silence which followed we could
hear Charles speaking gently from time
to time, and when at ltLst we both turned
toward them again Ralph had flung
himself down on an old bench at the
further end of the outhouse, with his
back turned toward us, his arms resting
on a barrel and his head bowed down
upon them. He neither spoke nor moved.
Charles left him and came toward us,
and he and the inspector spoke apart for
a moment, and then the latter dropped
on nis knees beside the dead woman and,
after looking carefully at a dark stain
on one of the wrists, turned back the
sleeve. Crashed deep into the round,
white arm gleamed something bright.
It was an emerald bracelet which we
both knew. Charles cast a hasty glance
at Ralph, but he had not moved, and he
drew me beside him so as to interpose
our two figures between him and the in
spector. The latter quietly turned down
the sleeve and recomposed the arm.
“I knew she would have them on her,
if she had them at all,” he said in a low
voice. “We need look no further at
present. Not one will be missing. They
are all there.”
He gazed long and earnestly at the
dead face, and then to my horror he sud
denly unfastened the little hat. I made
ap involuntary movement as if to stop
him, but Charles laid an iron grip ui>on
me and motioned to me to be still. The
stealthy hand quietly pushed back the
fair curls upon the forehead, and in au
■ other moment they fell still further back,
, showing a few short locks of dark hair
beneath them, which so completely al
tered the dead face that I could hardly
recognize it as belonging to the same
person. The inspector raised his head
and looked significantly at Charles.
Then he quietly drew forward the
yellow hair over the forehead again, re
placed the hat and rose to his feet.
Charles and I glanced apprehensively at
Ralph, but he had not stirred. As we
looked a hurried step came across the
! yard, a hand raised the latch of the door
j and some one entered abruptly. It was
Carr. For one moment he stood in the
j doorway; for one moment his eyes rested
I hon or struck on the dead woman, then
darted at us, from us to the inspector,
who was coolly watching him, and—he
was gone! gone as suddenly as he had
come, gone swiftly out again into the
falling snow, followed by the wild barb
ing of the dog.
Charles, who had had his back to tl*-
door, turned in time to see him, and he
[ made a rush for the door, but the in
! spector flung himself in his way and held
Him forcibly.
j “Let me go! Let me get at him!”
panted Charles, struggling furiously.
| “I shall do no such thing, sir. It can
do no good and might do harm. He is
armed, and you are not, and he would
not.be overscrupnlous if he fere pushed.
Besides, what can you accuse him of?
Intent to rob? For he did not do it. If
you have lost anything remember you
have found it again. If you caught him
Ia hundred times you have no hold on
him. I know him of old.”
“Your
“Yea; I have known him by sight
long enough. He is not anew hand by
any means—nor she either, as to that,
poor thing r
1 “But what on earth brought him
here?”
j “He was waiting for news of her in
London most likely, and he knew she
would have the jewels on her and came
• down when he got wind of the accident.”
“Knew she would have the jewels!
Then do yon mean to say there was col
lusion between the two?”
j The inspector glanced furtively at
; Ralph, but he had never stirred or
raised bead since he had laid it down
mffiis elipebed hands.
| “They are both well known to the
police,” he
sw?k le ‘kf 0 CoiluS l^
coring they
[*C> BR OOBTUfCRu j
Christianity Move* nT
-Saturday Evening Post. nWar <J'
If any one thinks that th;
break will stop or even ?Sout
growth of Christianity he*;*’ the
much mistaken. Look for V ' ry
ment at the wonderful fi° * m °-
19 centuries. The nftmbtr of ° f
verts on the day of Penteeos
only 3,ooo; at the end of ZT *
century it.reached only 1 * first
Even at the close of the tente °° G '
tury there were on.v sodL?’
Christians in the world S°°°
little further, to the days ofLmh ’
m the , s th century, Li
only 100,000,000. Butbe s i a S
800 and for every year of
tury we nave an increase of 2)
2 000,000 until today there art "
the world 600,000,000 chris, ia “
Seventy years ago the Bible
reau in only 50 languages and a nd"
lects—today (here are 300.
At the height of her
imperial Rome ruled 120000™
people. Today Christian ZZ
govern 800,000,000 people The
whole spirit of modern law and or
der and progress is in the g i0 \\ h
of Christianity, and neitner life Z
money nor distance nor zone is an
obstacle to its steady and inevitable
co iqnest of the entire world
Never was it more vigorous than
toaav.
Mere Sparks-
When anything is to be done the
wise policy is to do it and get it out
of the way.
Whoever gains any advantage
by the use of unrighteous means
pays too high price for it.
There is such a thing as seed
time and harvest for the soul as
truly as for the natural world.
It is an awful thing when a
man’s past life has been such that
he cannot look back upon it with
out a shudder.
When you are walking in rough
paths you may always find the
footsteps of your Lord who has
gone on before you.
When all other hopes die dov
like the flames of an expiring fir a
then “the good hope” of etern; 1
life burns most brightly
From the Landlord’s Point of View.
Tit-Bits,
Landlord.—“l’m going to raise
your rent, Mr. White.”
White—“ Whit’s guan wrang;
hiv the rents gaun us?”
Landlord—“No, but I see you
have painted the house and
made a few improvements in it.
That of course, ought to make it
bring more rent.”
Shake Into Your Shoes.
Allen’s Foot Ease, a powder. It cures
painlql, smarting, swollen teet and in
growing nails, and instantly takes the
sting out of corns and bunions. It’stbe
greatest comfort discovery of the age
Allens Foot-Ease makes tighter new
shoes feel easy. It is a certain cure for
sweating, callous and hot, tired, aching
feet. Try it today. Sold by all drug
gist and shoe stores. By mail 25c. in
stamps. Trial package FREE, Ad
resa, Allen S, Olmsted, LeKoy, N. Y.
Tax Assessors’ Books.
The City Tax Assessors
books will be open for in
spection on the 14th and
will close on the 24th dav
of September, 1900.
All complaints must be
filed with G. W. Waldrup,
city clerk, in writing’, on or
before the day of said clos
ing. The City Council will
meet on Sept. 25th, at 7'3°
p. m. to hear and consider
complaints.
By order of Mayor ; nd
Aldermen.
G. W. Wai.drup,
City Clerk.
This Sept. 12, 1900.
Our Greatest Specialist.
For 20 years Dr J. Newton Hathaway
line sh successfully (fAa)p(j chronic dis
eases that ho is ackuow ledged today to
stand at the head of his profession in
this line. His exclusive method of
treatment lor Varicocele and Stricture
without the aid of knire or cautery,
cures in 90 per eent. of all cases. Id the
treatment of Loss of Vital Forces, Ner
vous Disorders, Kidney and Urinary
Complaints, Paralysis, Blood Poisoning
Rheumatism, Catarrh and Diseases pe
culiar to women, he to equally success
ill. Dr. Hathaway’s practice is ni< *
than double that of any ether specialist.
Cases pronounced hope'ess by other
chvsicians, readily yield to his treat
ment. Write biin today tolly a 1 ' nl
your case. He makes no charge l" 1
consultion or devto-, either at his o
tice or bv mail. n
J. NEWTON H ATHAWAY, M. D-.
22,South Broad S’., Atlanta, D
-3m-19d
castobia* j
fcarsth. Ha<B AIWa ~