Conyers weekly. (Conyers, GA.) 1895-1901, July 27, 1895, Image 1

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Conyers weekly., July 27, 1895, Image 1

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Newspaper Page TextVOL. XV. [g STORY OF . FRANCIS CLUDDE. Ej STANLEY J. WEYMAU. SYNOPSIS. J[iry is fpm m of England. Francis Sty 3 with Ids uncle, Sir and his cousin PetronUla, Sir t,........ Winchester, daughter. pays Gardiner a visit to bisli- Sir IP o and being a Catholic is dis ufomy, bi who is at heart a XU. Ke Franc'*, CIIAPTEK If.-Gardi ,'4 Francis and who informer, his father and is, offers that a iri'tor man’s fortune if he tun ike the youmr Francis Lkgfnr will enter his service as a spy. time to reply and runs away, nhmlimr to carve out ids own fortune, a _!ie is overtaken by Clarence, an Ut.if Gardiner, telling against them wliom the lie man in¬ tend mob by and kanrens tang leader, escapes on Clarence’s lmise and witii bis dispatches IV-Francis goes to an inn at St. Al tas, and showing the dispatches is thought to he a queen’s courier, da¬ Ufa te arrives, and lie escapes with tiie waiting maid. V. and I f.— He I Lumen. reaches London and and the renders aid to two in He women Francis escape itoat are attacked, and is stun Lj YlL—They vessel bound are re-cued for Holland. and put an board a to be the Puch One of the women proves married KofSnttdk, wh-> has a man IniDed Bertie. The Brandon. other is a Bertie kinswo¬ is man named Anne they on bear 1 loo. Being ILotestants, were fleeing from England. Francis telli item his name is Carey. Y 111.— They ascend the river Rhine in a boat m l reach the house of a friend named LM-Pont. 1N, X and XL C ar e y nies Dymphna, Landstrom's daughter I from the violence of a soldier’and kills the man. They decide to bury the |Spaniard, but Carey sees a ghost. Van Tree, Dymphna’s lover, warns them list they are discovered, -rich and t bv hey boat. flee. XU,-They reach Emm The Dutchman’s party go to Sauton, While Carey, Bertie -tod tiie two women pit for Wesel on horseback. XIIT.— They are delayed by Hoods, and the Sp numb, led by Clarence, come up with them. Carey disperses ihem. The livers being flooded, they turn toward Sauton. Bertie by mistake kills one of the Swton, town guard.' besieged XIV.—They in the reach but are gate bouse by Ihe townsfolk, furious at the death of a citizen. Linistrom appears rdgains release for the party, provi¬ ded the man who struck the fatal blow be given up. To save Bertie, who is hurt, Carey surrenders. XV and XVL -Heis tried and condemned to death. While being le 1 to the scaffold lie is pirdoned by the Duke of Cleyes, who opportunely arrives, and Carey’s real name is found out. CHAPTER XIX. The bitterness of that hour long past, When ho iiad left me for death, when lie ta played witii tho human longing for life and striven without a thought of pity to corrupt 1110 by hopes and fears tlio most _Mfnl bice that mortals know, was in my as I spoke. X rejoiced that vengeance ® como upon him at last, and that I tasks instrument. I saw the pallor of a treat feat creep into his dark cheek and Win his eyes the vicious passion of a till beast trapped and felt no pity. " Mas “"Shed Clarence,” I said and laughed— feed mockingly. “-You do not look to seo your friends, or perhaps you J? fester not Bertie! remember Maybe me. he Stand will recognize forward, Jon.” b>it though Master Bertie camo forward W stood by my side, gazing at him, the Main’s eyes did not for an instant shift p® *? 1 mino. --it is the man!” my compan E3 'H after a solemn pause, for the ®«r, breathing fast, made no answer, do was a spy in the pay of Bishop Gard ? et ' "’hen I knew him. At tho bishop’s r™ 11 heard that ho passed into tho serv foof the Spanish embassador, the Count toria. He called himself at that timo NjjWoce. iio quiet I words recognizo had him. their ” effect. From 11 one-half of the savago crew round 11 s eice murmur rose more terrible than J loud outcry, yet this seemed a relief doomed man. He forced himself to w* awa J from me and to confront thedark 3 of menacing faces which hemmed Hu- Tho moment he did so bo ap ffW to find courage and words. “They 9 me for another man!” he cried in , ar «i accents. “I know nothing of B,. a and he added fearful oath. “He - a , mo. Ask him!” 0 .Pointed to Walter Kingston, who ^sitting and who moodily alone on had a tram not risen outside under the Wr! te T Ctot my challenge. On being tjj appealed to he looked up suddenly. htterte t0 choose Between you,” he said re I’ "and say which is the true man, “Wh- V li 1 shail P lck -'’ “Wvu hSM <:iarenc murmured. u m This time bis tone was differ at V tains ,. voice rrl waa the ring of hope. too 8ive my yote for you ’” King ' tan ?, ’ lookin 8 contemptuously at 1 QW * omethingaboutyou buti ’ otner gentleman I know nothing;” <W D ?f wucl1 o£ the P crsou y° u call I 'Jr“' 1 retorted fiercely, “since yon re, tapping TucK”’‘ the young man his boot with his scab carelessness, “that lio me mo ney ancl eecniCf I » good aiit one that , hated amass priest, ifchU, W"w4 Deh y P r for hapS me V As for CaU his ym,rSe namo ' f ’ - °“ tauJ^ to not know I T know a good many heard Careys, of you, norover I sn . Bg roMdo with hot cheek, S Ba» ebaUenge , ' 1 him a which vras upon my j,--was a! W anticipated Ly Master Bertie, te Y Ule forcibly back. “Leave this he said, “and do you Master Kingston and /jpfp ■OWT c m <> CONYERS, GA., SATURDAY, JULY 27, 1895. to them sna caawing MmFou height as he addressed them, “listen* if vou please! You know mo, if you do not know my friend. Tho honor of Richard Bertio has never been challenged until to nieht, nor ever will he with impunity, Leave my friend out of the question and put me in it. I, Richard Bertie, say that tliatman is a paid spy and informer, corny here in quest of blood money, and he, Crewdson, a nameless man, says that I lie. Choose between us, or look at him and judge! Look!” Ho was right to bid them look. As tho savage murmur rose again and took from the wretched man his last hope, as the ugliness of despair and wicked, impotent passion distorted his face, ho was indeed tho most deadly witness against himself. The lights which shone on treacherous weapons half hidden or on the glittering eyes of cruel men whose blood was roused s it on nothing so dangerous as the livid, .ospairing face which, unmasked and eyed by ail with aversion, still defied us. Trai¬ tor and spy as ho was, he had the merit of courage at least. lie would die game. And even as I, with a first feeling of pity for him, discerned this, his sword was out, and with a cureo ho lunged at me. Pcnruddocko saved me by a buffet which sent me reeling against the wall, so that tho villain’s thrust was spent on air. Be¬ fore he could repeat it four or five men flung themselves upon him from behind. For a moment there was a great uproar, while tho group surrounding him swayed to and fro as he dragged his captors up and down with a strength I should not have expected. But tho end was certain, and we stood looking on quietly. In a ininuto or two they had him down, and disarming him bound his hands. For me he seemed to have a special hat¬ red. "Curse you,” he panted, glaring at me as ho lay helpless. "Yon have been my evil angel! From the first day X saw you you have thwarted me in ovory plan, and have brought to this! ■ ’ now you mo “Not I, but yourself,” I answered. “My curse upon you!” he cried again, tho rage and hate in his face so terrible that I turned away shuddering and sick at heart. "If I could have killed you,” he cried, “I would have died contented.” “Enough!” interposed Pcnruddocko briskly. “It is well for us that Master Bertio and his friend came here tonight. Heaven gr ant it bo not too late! Wo do not need,” lid added, looking round, “any mare cvidenco, I think?” The dissent was loud, and, save for Kingston, who still sat sulking apart, unanimous. “Death?” said tho Cornishman quietly. No one spoke, but each man gave a brief, stern nod. “Very well,” the leader continued; “then Iproposo”— Master Bortie, in¬ “One moment,” said terrupting him. “A word with you apart, with our friends’ permission. You can re¬ peat it to them afterward.” He drew Sir Thomas aside, and they re¬ tired into the corner by tho door, where they stood' talking in wbispors. I had small reason to feel sympathy for the mau who lay there tied and doomed to dio like a calf. Yet even I shuddered—yes, and some of the hardened men round mo shuddered also at the awful expression in his eye, as, without moving his head, he followed the motions of the two by the door. Some faint hope springing into be¬ ing wrung his soul and brought the per¬ spiration in great drops to his forehead. I turned away, thinking gravely of the early morning three years ago when he had tor¬ tured me by the very same hopes and fears which now racked his own spirit. Penruddocke came hack, Master Bertie following him. tonight,” he “It must nob be done an¬ nounced quietly, witii a nod which meant that he would explain tho reason after¬ ward. “We will meet again tomorrow at 4 in tho afternoon, instead of at 8 in the fit & / 1 a t m \ r !.. ; I \ A".. % ; / i 1 “lie must be saved. Do you hear?” evening. Until then two must remain on guard with him. It is right I 10 should have some time to repent, and ho shall have it.” This did not at onco find favor. “Why not run him through now?” said one bluntly, “andmeet tomorrowat some place unknown to him? If we como here again, we shall, likely enough, walk straight into the trap.” ’ “Well, have it that way, if you please, answered Sir Thomas, shrugging his shoulder "But do not blamo me after ward i£ you find we have let slip a golden opportU nity. Be fools if you like. I dare sa y it will not make much difference in jj.f, en( j! ! ’ knew how He spoke at random, but he to d eal with his crew, if seemed, for on this tboso who had objected assented re¬ luctantiy to the course he proposed, “Barnes and Walters are here in hiding, so him,”‘he thcy had better be the two to guard continued. “There is no fear they will he inclined to let him go!” I looked at the men whom the glances of their fellows s ip g l c d ont and found them har’tefL^remaike^Mk^stSrnien! fightipg, worth J if the matter ever came to aJ1 tb( rcst of tht , bami put together. "At 4 tomorrow, then, we meet," Sir , "Then will Thomas concluded lightly we deal with him, never fear! Now it is near midnight, and we must he going, but not ajt together, or we shall attract attention. Hall 8a pour later Master Bertio and 1 rode softly out of the courtyard and turned our faces toward the city. The night wind sweeping acress tho valley of Lie Timmcsund met 11 s full in tho face as we reachcAhu brow of the hill. It seemed The , adeD with meianeboly whispers. wretched enterprise, ill conceived, ill or- '*‘ UCil ^ V c nonorcomnircreCT, \roc:n havn accounted of itself for any degree of forobodlll S- liut Ul ° scpne through which ' vo ” ad jusu passed, MHi on my part tho knowledge that I had given up a fellow bei,! S to d « atl >, had their depressing imiu ? leuco. ncl ' s - which f° r u s l I 015,e was distailco ihe first wo to break, r ' ld « in s > “Why did you put off his punishment!’ I asked. “Because I think ho will give us in formation in tho interval,” Bertie an¬ swered brioiiy. “Information which may help us. A spy is generally ready to bo tray his own side upon occasion." “And you will spare him if he does?” I asked. It seemed to mo neither justice nor mercy. “No,” ho said, “there isnofearof that. Those who go with ropes round their necks know no mercy. But drowning men will catch at straws, and ten to ono ho will babble.” I shivered. “It is a bad business,”! said. Ho thought I referred to tho conspiracy, and he Inveighed bitterly against it, re¬ proaching himself for bringing mo into it and for his folly in believing tiie rosy ac¬ counts of men who had all to win and nothing save their worthless lives to lose. “There is only one thing gained, ” ho said. “Wo are likely .to pay dearly for that, so we may think tifti more of it. Wo have been the means of punishing a villain.” "Yes,” I said, “that is true. It was a strange meeting and a strange recognition. Strangest of ail that I should ho called up to swear with him. ” “Not strange,” Master Bertio answered gravely. “I would rather call it provi¬ dential. Lot us think of that and be of better courage, friend. Wo have been used; wo shall not bo oast away before our time. ’ ’ I looked back. For somo minutes I had thought I heard behind us a light footstep more like tho pattering of a dog than any¬ thing else. 1 could seo nothing, hut that was not wonderful, for tho moon was young and tiie slty overcast. “Do you hoar some ono following us?” I said. Master Bortio drew rein Suddenly, and turning in tho saddle we listened. For a second I thought I still heard the sound. Tho next it ceased and only the wind toy¬ ing with tho November leaves and sigh¬ ing away in the distance camo to our cars “No,” ho said, “I think it must have been your fancy. I hear nothing. ” But when we rode on tho sound began again, though at first more faintly, as if our follower had learned prudence and fallen farther behind. “Do not stop, but listen!” I said softly. “Cannot you hear the pattering of a naked foot now?” “I hear something," he answered, “I am afraid you are right and that wo are followed. ’' “What is to he done?” I said, my thoughts busy. “There is Caen wood in front," ho an¬ swered, “with a little open ground on this side of it. We will ride under the trees and then stop suddenly. Perhaps we shall be able to distinguish him as ho crosses the open behind us.” We made the experiment, but as if our follower had divined the plan his footstep ceased to sound before we had stopped our horses. He had fallen farther behind. “Wo might ride quickly hack,” I suggested, “and sur¬ prise him.” “It would be useless,” Bertie answered. “There is too much cover close to tho road. Let rather trot on and outstrip him. ” us We did trot on, and what with the tramp of our horses as they swung along tiie road and the sharp passage of the wind by our ears wo heard no more of the footstep behind. But when wo presently pulled up to breathe our horses—or rather within a few minutes of our doing so— there it was behind us nearer and louder than before, I shivered as I listened, and presently, acting on a sudden impulse, I wheeled my horse round and spurred him hack a dozen paces along the road I pulled up. There was a movement in tho shadow of the trees on my right, and I leaned for¬ ward, peering in that direction. Gradual¬ ly I made ont the lines of a figure stand¬ ing still, as though gazing at me—a strange, distorted figure, crooked, short and in some way, though no lineament of the faco was visible, expressive of a strange and weird malevolcnco. It was tho witch! The witch whom I had seen in the kitchen at the gatehouse. How, then, had she come hither? How had she, old, lame, decrepit, kept up with us? I trembled as she raised her hand, and standing otherwise motionless pointed at 51” out of the gloom. The horse unde? mo was trembling, too—trembling violent¬ ly, with its ears laid back, and as sho moved its terror increased, it plunged wildly. I had to give for a moment all my attention to it, and though I tried in mere revolt against the fear which I felt was overcoming me to urge it nearer my efforts were vain. After nearly unseating me tho beast whirled round, and getting tho better of mo galloped down the road toward London. “What is it?” pried Master Bertie as I came speedily up with him. He liad rid¬ den slowly on. “What is the matter?” “Something in tiie bodge startled it,” I explained, trying to soothe the horse. “I oould not clearly sea what it was. ” “A rabbit, I dare say, ” he remarked, deceived by my manner. “Perhaps it was,” I answered. Scope impulse, not unnatural, led me to say nothing about what I bad seen. I was not quite sure that my eyes had not de ceived me. I feared his ridicule, too, though he was not very prone to ridicule. And above all I shrank from explaining the medley of superstitious fear, distrust and abhorrence in'which I held the crea ture who had shown so strange a knowl edge of my life. We were already near Molbern, and reaching without further adventure a Hipest inn near the Bars we retired to a 100,11 ' % . e had c , n ,” a = c ' and o^onr lay telk'' 4 !V Ye; s nt well for deo-e«sion goes better "’‘h^^a fwas auUri ’ fating uD Cariv and down in to the horses before Lon d on was well awake. As I entered the ’ Jnan Ivin „ curIei ] up j„ the straw , oT(jr ’ and cbiM ]i na lli3 ,. yPS ' ■ ^ ^ A rcntlv j )0 recognized for he HE got slowly to bis feet. “Morn . |‘ “„ Mal m T n^de tari misfake a t him, wondering if I had a .csy bal BZS rinino here, mv man?” I said sharply wnen x* r.air j/ra 7* certain r knew him, and that ho was really tho surly hostler from tho Gatehouse tavern at Highgate. “Why did you come here? Why have you followed us?” "Como about your business," he an¬ swered. "To giro you that.” I took tho note ho hold out to mo. "From whom?” 1 said. “Whosout it by you?” “Cannot toll, ” ho replied, shaking his head. “Cannot or will not?” I retorted. “Both,” ho said doggedly. “But thcrcl If you want to know what sort of a kernel is in a nut, you don’t shako tho tree, mas¬ ter—you crack the nut." I looked at the noto he had given me. It was hut a slip of paper folded thrice. Tho sender had not addressed or sealed or fastened it in any way, liad taken no care cither to insure its reaching its destination or to prevent prying eyes seeing the con¬ tents. If ono of our associates had sent it, ho had been guilty of tho grossosfceareless uess. "You are sure it is for me?” I said. “As sure as mortal can be,” ho an¬ swered. “Only that it was given me for a man, and not a mouse! You are not afraid, master?” I was not, but ho edged away ns he spoke and looked witii so much alarm at the scrap of paper that it was abundantly clear lie was very much afraid himself, even while he derided mo. 1 saw that if I had offered to return tho noto ho would have backed out of tho stable and gono off there and then as fast as his Iamo foot would let him. This puzzled mo. How¬ ever, I read the note. There was nothing in it to frighten me. Yet, as 1 read, tho color came into my face, for it contained ono caoio to which I had long been a stran¬ ger. “To Francis Cludde,” it ran. “If you would not do a thing of which you will miserably repent all your life, and which will stain you in tho eyes of all Christian men, moot mo two hours before noon at the cross street by St. Botolph’s, where you first saw Mistress Bertram. And tell no one. Fail not to come. In heaven’s name, fail not!” Tho noto had nothing to do with tho conspiracy, then, on tho face of it, mys¬ terious ns it was and mysteriously as it camo. “Look hero!” I said to the man. “Toll tno who sent it, and I will give you a crown.” “I would not tell you, ” he answered stubbornly, “if you could make mo king of England! No, nor king of Spain tool You might rack me, and you would not get it from me!” His one eye glowed with so obstinate a resolve that I gave up the attempt to per suado and turned to examine the message itself. But here I fared no better, I did not know the handwriting, and there was no peculiarity in tho paper. I was no wis¬ er than Before. “Are you to take hack any answer?” I said. "No,” he replied, "the saints be thanked for the same! But you will bear mo wit¬ ness,” ho wont on anxiously, ‘ that I gavo you tho letter. You will not forgot that or say that you liavo not had it? But there!” ho added to himself as ho turned away, speaking in a low voice, so that I barely caught tho sense of tho words, “what is the use? She will know!” Sho will knowl It had something to do with a woman, then, even if a woman were not the writer. I went in to break¬ fast in two minds about going. I longed to tell Master Bertio and take his advice, though tho unknown had enjoined mo not to do so. But for tlio timo I refrained, and explaining my absence of mind as well as X could I presently stole away on sumo excuse or other and started in good timo and on foot into tho city. I reached tho rendezvous a quarter of an hour before tho time named, and strolling between tho church and the baker’s shop tried to look as much liko a chance passerby as I could, beeping the while a wary lookout for any who might turn out to bo my correspond¬ ent. Tho morning was cold and gray. A drizzling rain was falling. The passers were few, and the appearance of the streets dirty and, with littered kennels, was dreary indeed. I found it hard at once to keep myself warm and to avoid observa¬ tion as I hung about. Ten o’clock had rung from more than one steeple, and I was beginning to think myself a fool for my pains when a woman of middle height, slender and young in figure, but wearing a shabby brown cloak, anil wi<h hor head muffled in a hood, as though she had the toothache or dreaded tho weather more than ordinary, turned the corner of the belfry and made straight toward me. She drew near and seemed about to pass me without notice. Rut when abreast of mo she glanced up suddenly, her eyes the only features I could see. “Follow 1110 to tlio church!” sho mur¬ mured gentiy, and she swept on to tho porch. I obeyed reluctantly—very reluctantly, my feet seeming liko lead, for I knew wiio she was. Though I had only seen her eyes, I had recognized them and guessed already what he? husipess with me was. Sho led the way resolutely to a quiet corner. Tho church was empty and still, with only tiie scent of incense in tho air to tell of a re¬ cent service. It was no surprise to me when sho turned abruptly, and removing her hood looked mo in tho face. “What have you ilono with him?” sho panted, laying her hand on my arm. “Speak! Tell me what you have done with him?” The question, the very question I liad foreseen! Yet I tried to fence with her. I bald, "With whom?” “With whom?” sho repeated bitterly, “You know me! I am not so changed in three years that you do not recognize me." “No; I know you,” I said. There was a hectie flush on her cheeks, and it seemed to mo that tho dark hair was thinner on her thin temples than when I had seen her last, but her eyes were tbo same. “Then why ask with whom?” sho cried passionately. ‘ Wbat have you done with © man you called Clarence?” : Done with him?” I said feebly. : Aye, done with him? Come, speak and tell me!’’sho repeated in fierce accents, hand clutching my wrist, her eyes probing my face with merciless glances. “Have you killed him? fell me?” "Killed him, Mistress Anno? I said sullenly. "No; I liavo not killed him. " He is a Gve?” she cried. “For all I know, be is alive.” m seconds sure ncrseir r.—r r was -z:::r,g —urn Then slio heaved a great sigh, her hands fell from my wrists, tiie color faded out of her face, aad sho lowered her eyes. I glanced round with a momentary idea of escape, I so shrank from that which was to come. But before I had well enter¬ tained tile notion sho looked up, her face grown calm. “Then what liavo you done witii him?" she asked. ‘‘I have done nothing with him,” I an swerod. ,Sho laughed—a mirthless laugh. “Bah," sho said, “do not toll me lies! That is your honor, Isuppose—your honor to your friends down in tho cellar thoro! Do you think that I do not know all about thorn? Shall I give you tho list? Ho is a very dangerous conspirator, is Sir Thomas Pen ruddocke, is iio not? And that scented dandy Master Kingston! Or Master Crewd¬ son—tell me of him! Tell mu of him, I say!” sho exclaimed, with a sudden return from irony to a fierco eagerness, a breath¬ less impatience. “Why did ho not come up last night? What liavo you done with him?” I shook my head, sick and trembling. How could I tell her? “I see,” she said. “You will not tell mo. But you swear he is yet alive, Mas¬ ter Cluddo? Good. Then you are holding him for a hostage? is that it?” with a piercing glance at my face, "or you have condemned him, hut for somo reason the sentence has not been executed?” Sim drew a long, deep breath, for I fear my faco betrayed me. “That is it, is It? Then thoro is still time.” She turned from mo and looked toward the ond of the aisle, whore n dull rod lamp hanging beforo the altar glowed feebly in tho warm, scented air. She soemod so to turn and so to look in thankfulness ns if the nows she had learned were good In¬ stead of wiiat it was. “What Is the hour fixed?” sho asked suddenly. I shook m v head. “You will not tell me? Well, it mat¬ ters not,” sheanswered briskly. “Ho must ho saved. Do you hear? Ho must he saved, Master Clndde. That is your business." I shook my head. “You think it is not?" she said. “Well, I can show you it is! Listen!” Sho raised herself on a stop of tho fount and looked mo harshly ill the face. "If ho be not given up to mo safe and sound by sunset this evening, I will betray you all! All! I have tlio list here,” sho muttered sternly, touching her bosom. "You, .Mas¬ ter Bertie, Penruddocke, Fleming, liarnes —all. All! Do you hear? Give him up. or you shall hang!” "You would not do It!” I cried aghast, peering into her burning eyes. “Would not do it? Fool I" she hissed. “If all tho world hut ho had one head, I would out it off to save Ills! He Is my husband! Do you hear? He Is my hus¬ band—iny all! Do you think I have given up everything, friends ami honor and safety, for him to lose him now? No! You say I would not do it? I)o you know wlmt I have done? You have n soar there. ” Sho touched mo lightly on tho breast. “I did it," she said. “You?” 1 muttered. “Yes, I, you blind fooll I did it,” she answered. “You escaped then, and I was glad of it, sinoo tho wound answered my purposo. But you will not escape again. The cord is surer.” Something in her last words crossed my memory and enlightened mo. "You were tho woman I saw last night,” I said. “You followed us from Highgate.” "What matter? What matter?” sho ox claimed impatiently. "Better bo footsore than iieartsoro. Will you do now what I want? Will you answer for his life?” "I can do nothing without tho others,” I said. "But tho others know nothing,” she answered. They do not know their own danger. Where will you find them?” "I shall find them,” I replied resolute¬ ly. “And in anycaso I must consult Mas¬ ter Bertie. Will you como and see him?” "And lie looked up, too?” sho said stern¬ ly and in u different tone. “No; it is you must do this, and you must answer for it, Francis Cludde—you, and no one else ." “I can do nothing by myself,” I re¬ peated. "Aye, hut you can—you must!” she re¬ torted, "or heaven’s curse will ho upon you! You think me mad to say that. Lis¬ ten! Listen, fool! The man whom you have condemned, whom you liavo left to die, is not only my husband, wedded to me these three years, but your fattier— your father, Ferdinand Cluddo!” [TO BE CONTINUED.} J TUhen Daliy was sick, we gave her Castoria. When she was a Child, she cried for Castorfa. When she became Miss, she clung to Castoria. When she had Children, she gave them Castoria. Children Cry for Pitcher’s Castoria-_ qmnnnrinnnrinnrinr^^^ 'jurfSk » _ 1 * % ,, HOT v- Wjf \' x x Winchester --- Repeating !» Rifles ° Our Model 1893 Shot-Gun is now used ° by all the most advanced trap Shot-Guns ;S £ and shooters. Single Shot-Rifles game c £ ASK YOCR DEALER TO SHOW YOU THIS GUN. e Everything that is Newest and Best in Repeating Arms as well as all o ° kinds of Ammunition are made by the (0 :J 0 WINCHESTER REPEATING ARflS CO., Winchester Ave., New Haven, Conn. ° 93 - Send a Postal Card with your addre** for our 11 Z-pagc Illustrated Catalogue. 0 NO. 30 fGiM^ONS <■ i, ^regulator Are you taking Simmons Liver Reg¬ ulator, tho “King of Liver Medi¬ cines?” That is what our readers want, and nothing but that. It is the same old friend to which tho old folks pinned their faith and were never dis¬ appointed. But another good recom¬ mendation for it is, That it is better than Pills, never gripes, never weak¬ ens, but works in such an easy and natural way, just like nature itself, that relief comes quick and suro, and one feels new all over. It never fails. Everybody needs take a liver remedy, and everyone should take only Sim¬ mons Liver Regulator. He sure you get it. The Red Z is on the wrapper. ,1. H. Zeilin & Co., Philadelphia. The design for tho Official Sou veilir Medal of the Cotton States and International ^Exposition was forwarded to Washington last week, where themedals will be minted from tho Government coin press. The medals will be made from bronze and will be the exact size of a silver quarter. On the face of the medal will bo a bale of cotton, on which is perched, with out-stretched wings, a phoenix. Under the bale of cotton are shown the rays of the lire of 1805, with tho year 1805 printed. Above are are tiie figures 1895. Around the edges of the medal are prin¬ ted tiie words “Cotton States and International Exposition,” and at tho lower side of the coin are the words, “Atlanta, Ga., Lf. S. A., September 18th, Decem¬ ber 31, 1895.” On tho back of tiie modal will be a vignette of Henry W. Grady, and around tho edges will be,“Official Souv¬ enir Medal.” The medal will be very handsome in design and will bo coined by the million. Children Cry for Pitcher's Castoria W. S3 L SNOErl-’RJfSKs. Douglas CORDOVAN. A1.NAMEU.Z0 CALS. "•SK FRENCH m ?4. s 3S? Fine Cal? iKANGMiOft wm I $ 3.%? POLICE,3 SOLES. “L Sr-#* ' 3 2v L 7 - BCYSSCHOOLSHQEJL ? ■ lahies • '■Sir, EROCKTOHJAASS. Over One Million People wear tho W. L, Douglas $3 & $4 Shoes All our shoes are equally satisfactory KS SSS/SEi re- 15» The^pBceVare Pram $1 to $3 saved unh‘orm%--»tann^ over other , <f oriole. supply boWby .. ^ If your dealer cannot you «on. An agent wanted; as soon as one is secured the name will appear hcie.