6 THE TANGLED SKEIN. Life Is a tangled skein The spinner cannot trace. Nor pick the colors out again. Each In Its proper place; The black, the scarlet and the gold Are in confusion manifold. What will the Weaver do With all these tangled tlireaasT And all the broken places, too? Oh, how the spinner dreads The Weaver's coming. lent in vain Has been the spinning of the skein! Black threads of Death are there; And white threads of disease; And scarlet threads of suffering; where Will He find place for these? Beside the golden threads of joy, How all these broken bits employ > Great Weaver, much I feiar, Before the day's decline, Thy footstep will be drawing near, Ur.to this work of mine. The thread is poor, as Thou dost see; Wilt Thou untangle It for me? Where It is faded, make The colors fresh and bright; Where It is knotted, gently take And twist It round aright, Und, ere ray day begins to ebb, Weave these into Thy perfect web? -Julia H. May, in Chicago Advance. Copyright. ISD9, 1/y J. B. Lipplncott Com pany. All rights reserved. CHAPTER V.—CONTINUED. A professional man who had been writing- at a side table now came for ward and read the dying- man's will, a notary standing near. The latter ex changed glances with Brodnar and looked away, a half smile upon his lips. The document, after the usual recita tions and the naming- of numerous •mall legacies for family servants ai*d others, proceeded as follows: "And the residue of my property, my Wife, Annette, having- been amply pro- Tided for by deed of g-ift during* my life, I bequeath to my daughter. Fran ces Brookin, upon condition that she •hall, on or before attaining the age of 21 years, accept as lier lawful hus band Raymond llolbin, who has asked her hand of me. my object being to pro vide for the future of a wayward girl by giving her a guardian who is in all respects a gentleman and worthy of every confidence. But if my said daughter, Frances, fails or declines to marry the said Raymond Holbin with in the limit of her minority, or immedi ately after attaining her majority, then I will and declare that all the property named and described as the residue of my estate, after legacies • pecified have been paid, shall vest in my wife Annette, the said Frances to become a charge upon my estate dur ing her life for sustenance and clothing only, unless it happens that she enters Into a marriage contract with some one other than the said Raymond llolbin, in which event the charge shall cease and the estate be acquitted of all de mands from her, her heirs or assigns." Absolute silence followed the read ing of the document, except that an ex clamation, half an oath, half a groan, burst from the doctor's lips. Re •trode to the table and picked up his liat, but paused when his gaze fell upon the figure of the slender girl. She stood erect, proudly looking at the group, her calm white face outlined against the damask curtains as the face of a statue. He laid his hat on the table, and. mov ing a little nearer to her. waited. The eick man grasped the pen with fever ish energy and signed, the witnesses immediately attesting. The tall, grave woman took the legal instrument and .applied a blotter. Then, folding it. she placed it in her bosom. To the law yer's embarrassed protest she said: "1 am the executrix of this will, And I prefer to be its custodian. That 1b your desire, dear, is it not—you wish to keep the will here in the bouse?" The exhausted invalid nod ded feebly. At this moment the door opened and Raymond entered the room. The elder woman, with an angry flush upon her face, walked rapidly towards him, and the law yer passed out with the notary. "Fool!" she whispered, "you endan ger it all!" She drew him into a bay window, where they began an an imated discussion. Brodnar had but one free moment but in that moment he acted. The girl had been left standing by her father's side. She alone caught the sentence whispered to her by the physician; her eyes fol lowed him as lie walked slowly away and then returned to rest upon the •ick man. Gazing into his wan face, all lier tenderness came back. Sudden ly she sank by his side and clasped her hands upon his knees. "Father!" she said, gently, "one word! Will you let me speak now? We may be parting for all eternity." He opened his eyes and looked stead ily upon her. "It is for -eternity," he said. And then, somehow, his hand found her head and rested there gently. "You are proud, Frances, and hurt, but the time will come when you will know that—l have acted for thebes "Oh, you think so," she said, shak ing with half-suppressed emotion and hiding her face. "I know you think *o. But—" "Listen, Frances! You have a cous in whose name has long since ceased to be spoken in my family. She was proud—and wayward—and headstrong, too. You are very like her as she was —when her father's will made her ray ward—as she was when she passed— fcway —" "She is dead?" "Yes, to us!" he waited for breath and strength to proceed. "A husband —would have saved her. She had a right under the will —to choose—her residence. A foolish aunt received her. Che followed her own fancy!" "I would not talk of it, father. It excites you," I "I must! She was always—heedless —of advice —self willed —jealous—And then she—disappeared leaving a note—and disgrace! I let her go. She is dead to me!" After a pause he continued: "I have seen you drifting a way—Frances! disobedien t—;unlov ing—l would save you—if I could. Weep no more—l have forgiven; I have forgiven—!" The girl lifted her face quickly, indignant and agonized. "You have been deceived, father; oh, so basely deceived. I am not way ward —I have never yet disobeyed you. If you had permitted 1 should have been with you night and day." "If I had permitted!"' "Yes. It was you, they told me," she brokenly said—"it was you who sent me among strangers to school— you wished me never to come into your room—" "Frances!" "It is too late now," she said in anguish, "but I cannot part from you without telling you the truth. I love you. father. 1 would have been your dear daughter if you had not put it beyond my power." "Child! What is it you are say ing?" "Do you not understand, father?" she said, passionately, "do you not know that that woman has for years deprived you of your independence— of your freedom? Now she has taken your property! Can't you see it? You have been robbed of everything —and I—! Oh, she has preyed upon your holiest feelings; she has turned you aga-inst your own child—the child to whose mother you promised to guard and guide!" He raised himself in his chair. A look of fright was upon his face. "See!" she cried, "there is the wom an with her son dividing your prop erty before you are dead. Oh, they think I am harmless, now; I am not to to be feared! the die is cast, the will is signed, and you, father, have be trayed your only child into the hands of her bitterest enemy." He was speechless and pale. His dull eyes were fixed on the girl's. "But no," he said faintly, "this can not be, it cannot be! My child, you are wronging a good woman —and Raymond—he has been very' kind, so very kind!" "You are blinded, father; you are unsuspecting. Tell me, have they ever said that for months I have been eager to be with you; that?" "You, Frances! Why, you refused over and over—" She sank her head upon her chair. "And you believed that of me? It was untrue—a cruel, cruel invention." Mother and son caught the sound of her agitated voice and would have come over from the bay window, but Dr. Urodnar, drawing the sofa around as though to sit with them, stood with his hand resting upon it, com pletely blocking their way. "To-day and to-night," he said, "he must have absolute quiet. Continue the powders I have left, and see that he does not attempt, under any cir to vM Wo 6 rT <£>> "SPEAIC, YOU COWARD!" % cumstances, to walk about the room." lie continued rapidly to give direc tions concerning the treatment of the patient, and disregarded the woman's efforts to pass him. Frances lowered her voice and continued earnestly: "You do not believe me, father, yon do not realize what you have done. You do not know the man to whom you have consigned me, nor the wom an to whom you gave your name years ago. \ T ou knew nothing then! You know nothing now! Y'ou took her from Washington because she fascinated you as she had fasts'nated all those other men. You believed in her, because she knew intimately the great politicians. She was smart, too smart for an honest, honorable Virginia gentleman. Oh, my eyes have been opened to-day; the son is worthy of his mother. Ido not know who Louise is, but a friend has just told me to say to you this: 'Ask Raymond Holbin what he has done with Louise; for he is the man who betrayed her by a mock marriage and took her abroad.'" Motionless, but with straining eyes, the old man sat gazing at his daugh ter. "Who—told you—that?" he gasped. She made no reply, a sudden anxiety for him banishing every other emo tion. With a mighty effort, and be fore she could prevent him, he arose and staggered forward. The group dissolved and hurried towards him. Disregarding the physician and the woman, he leaned forward, and thrusting his face near to Holbin said with frantic energy: "Sir, where is my niece? Where is Louise?" Holbin drew back. "Speak, you coward!" llolbin did not reply, but stood with eyes cast down, his face as pale almost as that which challenged him. The old man tore at his throat and gasped in a mighty struggle for breath. "My will!—my will!" he cried, moving feebly towards his wife. She retreated, keeping just beyond his hand. "Give—me—back— the- —ah —!" A look of unutterable horror rose to his face; he wavered, j plunged forward, and would have I fallen, but Broduar took hiia in hia CAMERON COUNTY PRESS, THURSDAY, MAY 23, 1901. arms and laid him on the floor. For a moment not a sound broke the silence of the room. "Who—will protect —my daugh ter?" he whispered. Frances, his hand in hers, knelt in agony by his side. "Have no fear of me, my father; (!od has raised up a defender!" Hear ing this, Brodnar suddenly thrust back the group, leaving the girl alone with the dying man, to whom she whispered earnestly and rapidly. As he lay looking into her face a new light came for a brief moment to his and vanished. Brodnar, kneeling, placed his ear above the motionless heart. The moments passed. "Dead!" lie said at length, and arose. Raymond llolbin had paused at the door. He turned and ex changed glances with his mother and passed out. Frances lay with her face upon the dead man's breast. CHAPTER VL In all the throng that followed to the grave in Hollywood the remains of the wealthy and once distinguished John Brookin there was, aside from family servants, but one sincere mourner. The slender figure of his daughter Frances, supported by the strong arm of Dr. Brodnar, shook with an agony of grief. She had not looked 011 death since her mother died, and the passing of the sainUy woman had been but as sleep pro longed into eternity. But here was the consciousness of a great wrong; the discovery of an error, beyond rem edy; here was the end of a tragedy in which she had been inade to act a fatal part. Her rightful protector had been stricken from her. "Courage, my child!" —she heard the doctor's voice and felt his arm press upon her hand—"courage! Save your strength for the struggle to come. Live now to defeat the enemies of 3*our fa ther." Her frail figure strengthened and grew steady; she no longer leaned upon his arm. "Dust to dust, ashes to ashes." The minister's voice rang out the sad and solemn words; the clay dropped ana clattered solemnly ujjon the collin box. The prayer that followed was marked by a dramatic incident. Frances knelt by the open grave with moving lips that uttered no sound. Dr. Brodnar alone understood that her petition was no prayer, but a pledge that would never be forgotten. The widow stood oppo site, veiled in deepest black, the apothe osis of grief. It was a matter of genpral comment that Raymond llolbin was not present at the funeral. It was given out that a sudden indisposition had detained him at home. But. the indisposition of Raymond Holbin was a fiction pure and simple. There would have been no more discreet and well-behaved mourner by the grave than he; but there was nothing to be gained in at tending the funeral, and there was a matter of vital importance which must be settled in the deserted residence of the deceased. For Holbin was a bewildered and unhappy man. Xot that he feared Lou ise. The Brookin will and the death of the testator apparently secured his interests, even should Louise be rash enough to carry out her threats of ex posure. This, however, he felt assured sli« would never attempt. Terror of the law had already proved itself po tent to control her. In his hurried and frequent visits to the hotel he had as certained the fact that she was for the time being completely in his power. Reaction from her fierce excitement had set in; she clung to him, helpless and penitent. That she had seen a man at midnight in the wing-room of the Brookin house and had shot him, he did not doubt that she believed. As for himself, there were times when he had thought her simply insane—• the victim of an illusion; and yet the facts seemed to support her statement that she had visited the premises. Clearly his best course lay in the sup port of the illusion. This. then, was the invention which Holbin carried to the ears of the mis erable woman: The man she bad slain was indeed the lover of the woman in that room; he had been killed instant ly, and a friend had carried away the body. To save the family's name a suicide had been declared; rejected over and over, it was said, the young man had cotne into the garden and had shot himself. All the evidence and the surrounding circumstances pointed plainly to this theory. The man who discovered him, it was said, had found a note from the suicide upon his table, directing him where to look for his body; but. added Holbin, while the coroner had by a skillful selection of a jury from among the family's friends secured a hasty verdict in accordance with the theorj- of stiicide, it w-as ap parent that the police were suspicious, and it was said that some of them were quietly searching for the woman who had left the imprints of number two shoes under the window of the wing room. Such was the story. Louise believed it implicitly. The horror of her crime deprived her for the time of her mental powers and good judgment. She suffered lierseif to be guided and directed by Holbin. She was consigned to the care of an elderly negro woman, and readily ac cepted her room as her prison. It was not long before she was physically powerless to leave it. Raymond Holbin's most serious ap prehension during the day which wit nessed the death of John Brookin grew out of the fact that by infer ence at least he had been charged with crime in connection with Louise. Bis common seuse told him that something said by Frances in her last interview with her father had provoked the sud den accusation. What did Frances know of Louise and who was her in formant! Gradually during the day his suspicious nature secured ascend ancy over liis common sense. A se cret visit outside the window of the wing-room betrayed the still distinct tracks made by Louise and the fact that the ivy had been disturbed. From the moment of these discov eries llolbin was a miserable man. It is a peculiar but a well-known idio syncrasy of the masculine nature that whatever the man himself may bring to the marriage altar he demands that he shall meet there only immaculate purity. The realization by Holbin that fortune could be secured only by linking himself for life to Prances, who was- thus proven to have com promised herself, was alone sufficient to fill him with bitterness and hatred, though it did not for a moment deter him; but by a not unnatural operation of the processes which were molding his future he had found himself strangely influenced from the hour of their first meeting by this young girl whose future was to be linked to his. Fresh from school, her mind un formed, and with but vague ideas of real life, Frances Brookin presented that charming combination of knowl edge and ingenuousness which makes the girl-woman forever irresistible to men of experience. Himself accom plished anil versatile, he set about the pleasant task of winning her confi dence, and he might perhaps have succeeded but for over-assiduousness and the wonderful intuition of the feminine mind. The unwelcome re sults of his efforts were that withia two weeks he had fatally alarmed her and as fatally involved himself. For the first time in his life he was genu inely in love. It was at this time that Dr. Brod nar, hovering around his aged patient, discovered the drift of affairs, and, be coming aware of the infamy planned through the will, privately took con trol of Frances and revealed to her the plot of which she was to be the victim. From that moment Frances turned from Iloibin as from a crim inal, and llolbin was piqued to court her with a fiercer jealousy. It was to this heart, consumed by a hopeless passion, that the revelation made by Louise had winged its flight like a shaft of flame. Try as he might, he could not in the face of corroborat ing facts convince himself that she spoke altogether falsely or labored un der a complete hallucination. Yet, looking with the eyes of memory into the open, pallid face of Frances, he could not, he would not, accept the inevitable conclusion forced upon him by Louise. Such was bis frame of mind on the day of the funeral, when he remained at the Brookin residence, perhaps his only opportunity to make an examination of Frances' apart ments. Before the carriages had reached the cemetery he turned the latch and entered her deserted bed room. [To Bo Continued..] CLUNG TO HER CHARGE. Heroic Fnltlifuliienn of ft- Schoolmls* treat In ller Effort to Save « Uiil>>°« Lite. A recent book, entitled: "Recollec tions of a Missionary in the Great West," gives a pathetic story of a little schoolmistress who was faithful be yond the end. She had been "boarding round," and, with a dozen or more people, was caught by a tremendous'cyclone. They were in a house which stood on the edge of a high bluff. The house was wrecked, and every inmate but one was killed. This survivor s>aid that the family was at supper when the storm struck the house, and the schoolmis tress happened to sit next the baby, crowing in its high chair. AVhcn they found the poor girl that night, she was still alive, although she died almost, instantly. The wind had torn off her clothes, even her two rings, and left her but one shoe. Her hair was whipped to rags. She had been driven through several barbed-wire fences, and every bone in her body was broken. In her arms, however, and clasped tightly to her breast, was the dead body of the little child. Womanlike, she had seized the baby when she felt the shock of the storm, and not even the cyclone itse'.f had been able to tear it from her arms. Always in Fashion. Old merchants in New York recol lect a jolly Irishman who had a big retail store in Broadway, in Is'inth street, and retired as soon as he had accumulated $1,000,000. He alUvays ap peared perfectlj' dressed as to shirt, collar, cuffs, etc., and I did not know until I made hi* intimate acquaint ance and visited him at his home! that he never wore a whole white or col ored shirt in his life, but pinned , the cuffs to the sleeves of his undershirt and buttoned his collar to a diej<y. For all that he was a fine old Irish gentleman. Ido not know any gentle men of the old school who wear col ored shirts. Somehow they don't seem able to unbend sufficiently. Anil wearebound to admit that blue, black,' red and orange stripes do not seem to \ comport with the dignity at our fathers. —N. Y. Press. More Work to Do. An old couple in the west-of Scotland removed, to a large town, and the hus ba.nd bought an alarm clock to waken him in the morning, as he had togo some distance to his work. A few weeks afterward the couple not two young men as lodgers, who asked to be awakened at the same time as themselves. When the husband was winding up the clock that night his wife said to him: "Xoo, Jock, ye'll hae to gie the clock a guid winding the nieht. Ye ken it has two mair to waken the mora."— Loudon Spare Mom«cts. In No >lo oil for Sentiment. She —Do you remember? It was ifc this garden that we first metl He —Yes, yes! But that can't be helped now! —Meggendorfer Blaetter. THE QUICK LUNCH HABIT. DaiiKcra 'I lint Threaten Eimt Enter* Who Holt 'l'hrouifh II IIHIIICMM l.iisicheM at Noon. The "business lunch" threatens to accomplish the destruction of the hu man race—or so much of it as dwells in Chicago and other large American cities—if the statistics adduced the other night by eminent physicians and surgeons at a meeting of the Chi cago Medical society are found to be the unfailing mirrors of destiny that the doctors promise. In the alarming increase of intes tinal or "gastric" ulcers such eminent medical practitioners as Drs. X. S. Davis, Jr., W. A. Evans, .1. I*. Herrlclc and I'. W. Andrews announced in a symposium recently that they fi arcd the American stomach would give out in the course of time unless tlve pub lic became wise enough to curb and regulate the lunch counter method of hasty eating, says the Chicago Chronicle. It would seem that danger from gastric ulceration is not confined alone to the men, who are the con sumers of the business lunches, but that women are also threatened. To the women's habits of eating a few bites at many hours of the day their imminent peril is ascribed. In a paper read before the meeting by Dr. Andrews lie went on record with the statement that stomach ul ceration from abuses of the digestive organs, a disease "discovered" by medical men only five or six years ago, is more on Die increase than ap pendicitis and is much more danger ous to the permanency of the human race. "Statistics newly compiled and tab ulated have shown that this disease has increased about 200 per cent, within a few short years of its medi cal history," said Dr. Andrews. "It is. therefore, of the greatest impor tance that the medical profession should give the disease their best at tention and take all proper measures to battle with it as a new and formi dable danger to humanity." What is considered as giving un usual significance to the symposium was the coincidence that each of the four readers of papers, who are all of them professors in the local med ical colleges, laid stress either infer entially or in strong assertion that indigestion, due tr> overeating or hasty eating, is to be blamed for the alarming increase in this newest of diseases. It was learned by several of the speakers that in this country • anil abroad this newest peril to health is now more frequent than appendicitis and that the treatment was more ex acting and the necessary operations more delicate and difficult. A phase of the discussion that par ticularly interested the large audi ence of doctors in the lecture-room of the society w;«*r Prof. Andrews' sketchy description of the hunt for the nicer after the surgical incision is made. In this quest the professor told how a small glass tube, with a light, may be inserted in the stomach, and that a liberal exploration of the abdominal cavity may then be made. In his paper on the symptoms and causes of the disease Dr. Davis pre sentfd interesting arguments. The pathology of the disease was dis cussed learnedly by Dr. W. A. Evans, while the most advanced ideas on the complications and treatment were set forth by Prof. Herrick. A round-table discussion followed, in which several of the physicians in attendance par ticipated. "Stripped of its medical terminol ogy. this discussion may be regarded as an arraignment of the business lunch," said Dr. .Tames 11. Stowell, chairman of the meeting. "In a lesser degree it may also be taken as an ar raignment of woman's perpetual eat ing habits, the history of this new disease showing that women are suf ferers from it more often than men." In the same lecture-room at night the members of the Chicago Society of Internal Medicine discussed the bubonic plague. TtcMlstaiiop of llacterin to Hont. Many persons have erroneous no tions as to the ease with which bac teria are destroyed by heat. In fact, the "thermal death-point" for bac terial organisms varies widely. Some forms of v.-ter bacteria are killed by simple blood-heat, while pathogenic bacteria develop best at that temper ature. During their multiplying and vegetating phase oT life bacteria are more easily destroyed by heat tlia<v they are after passing to the resting or spore stage. Some spores derived from the soil require boiling for 1<» hours to insure their death. Moist heat in the form of steam is the most effectual disinfectant. No spore, however resistant, remains alive after one minute's exposure to steam at 140 degrees centigrade. But no degree of cold has been found suf ficient to destroy bacterial life.—Sci ence. Whop Xow. \ She —You married me for my money. Don't deny it! You knew 1 had $2:»,ooo. tie—Yes. my dear, but that was all. "'AH! All what?" "All I knew. I wouldn't marry you now, knowing wlmt I do, for $25,- 000,000." —Philadelphia Bulletin. In tlie Nohurha. C«oal Dealer —Boggs is pretty slow pay, isn't he? Gieocer —Yes; spotless cash. —Judge. la 3 or 4 Years an Independence Is Assured \IM you take up your home* 1 1n Western Canada, the iIW land of plenty, Illus idl trated pamphlets, giving I J I experience* of farmer# I I A Yjw\d who have become wealthy §4 growing wheat, report* I ww 4J °* delegates, etc.. and full I aWMI information as to reduced gLMTOfflg railway rates can oe had application to the Undersigned, who will mall you atlases, pamphlet*, etc., free of cost. F. PKDLKY, Bupt. of Immlgrat tion. Ottawa. Canada; M.V. MCINNK9, N0.2 Morrill Blk.. Detroit. Mich.; K. T. LIOLUC*, liuoai 4, til* Four Bid 4 lndianapolis, lad. A FAMOUS OLD HOUSE. The house of Walter Baker & Co.. whose manufactures of cocoa and chocolate have become familiar in th* mouth as household words, was es tablished one hundred and twenty one years ngo' (17S0) on the Nepon set I'.iver in the old town of Dorches ter, a suburb of Boston. From the little wooden mill, '"by the rude bridge that arched the flood," where the enterprise was first started, there has grown up the largest industrial establishment of the kind in the world. It might be said that, while other manufacturers come and go, Walter Baker & C'o. go on forever. What is the secret of their great success? It is a very simple one. They have won and held the confi flenco of the great and constantly in creasing body of consumers by al ways maintaining the highest stand ard in the quality of their cocoa and chocolate preparations, and selling them at the lowest price for which unadulterated articles of good qual ify can be put upon the market. They welcome honest competition; but they feel justified in denouncing in the strongest terms the fraudulent meth ods by which inferior preparations are palmed off on customers who ask for and suppose they are getting tho genuine articles. The best grocers refuse to handle such goods, not alone for the reason that, in the long run, it doesn't pay to do it, but because their sense of fair dealing will not permit them to aid in the sale of goods that defraud their customers and injure honest manufacturers. Every package of the goods made by the Walter Baker Company bears the well-known trade-mark "La Belle Chocoiatiere," and their place of man ufacture "Dorchester, Mass." House keepers are advised to examine their purchases, and make sure that other goods have not been substituted. An attractive little book of "Choice Recipes" will be mailed free to any housekeeper who sends her name and address to Walter Baker & Co., Ltd., 158 State Str«-et, Boston, Mass. Of MJXJMI Nationality. The usual humorous incidents were not lacking in the recently taken British census. An emigrant in New Zealand stated to the authorities that his mother was a Kaffir, his father an Irishman who had become a nat uralized American, but afterward served in the French army, and that he himself was born on the passage between Yokohama and Colombo in a Spanish vessel. "Put him down a Scotchman!" was the official decision.—Chicago t'hronicle. WHAT WE HEAR FROM ASSINI BOIA, WESTERN CANADA. "Don't Think of Coming, Oat Come." To the Editor: The above is the emphatic man ner in which a friend in York ton writes to a friend near St. Paul, Minnesota, and it is pretty nearly right, too, when the advantages that Western Canada offer to those seeking homes. The Assiniboia dis trict is one of the be3t. The writer from whose letter we quote goes onto say: "John, if you miss this chance you are foolish, for you can get out cheap er when there are so many coming, and I would not tell you to come if I thought you could not do well, and if you don't come in the spring you will have togo away back, for you do not want to think that there is no one liv ing out here but us. I saw nicer build ings out here than I ever saw before, and if the country was no good what would thej' want them for? John, if you sold everything you have and come out here you would be worth more than ever you were before, and if you can bring your team, you can get anything you want on tick, and when they do that with strangers they are not afraid they can't make enough to pay for it. I saw as nice wheat as I ever saiw in my life and if they could not grow grain what would the flour mill be for, and it cost $20,000." Now this was what Mr. Thomas Fitzpatrick, of Yorkton, Assiniboia, Western Canada, wrote to a friend. There will be opened up this summer new districts in Saskatchewan and Assiniboia, at low prices, particulars of which can be had of any agent of the Government of the Dominion of Canada, whose advertisement appears elsewhere in the columns of your pa per. Yours truly, AX QT,r> READER. Student <>r Humanity. The manager looked over the advertising man's work. "I see you speak of our payment plan," said he. " Yessir." "Make that word 'credit' instead of 'pay ment.' It is more attractive."—lndianap olis Press. You Can Get. A llen'a Foot-Eaap FREE, Write to-dav to Allen S. Olmsted, Leroy, X. Y., for a FREE sample of Allen's Koot- Ease, a powder to shake into your shoes. It cures chilblains, sweating, damp, swollen, aching feet. It makes New or tight shoes easy. A certain cure for Corns and Bun ions. All druggists and shoe stores sell it. 25c. When people say they will help you in a time of trouble, thank them, and don't count on it. —Atchison Globe. AT ONCE With rig to soil our Poultry Mixture: straight salary •SIS.OO per week and expen-es; year's contract; weekly pay. Address with staiut, KL'KKKA MFG. CO.. Dent. S, Kast St. LouU. lU. A Qniok Dessert. Get a packageof Burnliam's Hasty Jellycon nt your grocer's, dissolve it In a pint of boiling water anil let it cool. The result is a delicious and healthful dessert. The flavors ars: lemon, orange, raspberry, straw berry, peach, wild cherry and (he unflavored "calfsfoot" for wine and coffee jelly. All grocers sell it. PES ANAKESJS SgS£ DS wa Unf and POSIT! VK | RS I ,' ¥ IN I. KM. Ha "'I\ r AKi.SBi," VrM? Una builiiixuf. JN< w York. mSPgiMATISM nm;ic i OBUPOanS ii ml Mil R N tUw only positive cure. i'ustex {■ ■ 5r B ■ perience speaks for Itself- I)ei»ot Dill Tp\r b ' Ave., CtiicatfUt
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers