Synopsis of JteevlouH Chapters. . CHAPTERS I anil ll—Tho new tenants of t three adjoining villas In the London subnrl-s arc Admirul Hay Denver, with n son llarold; Df. Walker, with two motherless daughters, Clara ami Idu, and Mrs. Westmacott and her nephew Charles. Mis. Westmacott is one of the muscular, emancipated sisterhood, with radical views nnd manners. CHAPTER HI. DWELLERS IN THE WILDERNESS. How deeply are our destinies influenced by the most trifling causesl Had the un known builder who erected nnd owned these new villas contented himself by simply building each within its own grounds it is probable that tlieso three small groups of jieople would havo re mained hardly conscious of each other's existence, and that there would have : y been no opportunity for that action and I reaction which is here set forth. But there was a common link to bind them ■ together. To single himself out from all other Norwood builders the landlord had devised and laid out a common lawn ' tennis ground, which stretched behind j the houses with taut stretched net, greon I close cropped sward and widespread whitewashed lines. Hither in search of that hard exorcise which is us necessary as air or food to the English temperament came young Hay Denver when released from the toil of the city. Hither, too, came Dr. Walk er and his two fair daughters, Clara and | Ida, and hither also, champions of lawn, came the Bhort skirted, muscular widow and her athletic nephew. Ere the summer was gone they knew each other \ in this quiet nook as thoy might not have done after years of a stiffer and more forranl acquaintance. V, And especially to the admiral and tho doctor were this closer intimacy and companionship of value. Each had a void in his life, as every man must have who with unexhausted strength stops out of the great race, but each of his so ciety might help to fill up that of his neighbor. It is true that they had not much in common, but that is sometimes an aid rather than a bar to friendship. Each had been an enthusiast in his pro fession and had retained all his interest in it The doctor still read from cover to cover his Lancet and his Medical Jour nal, attended all professional gatherings, worked himself into an alternate state of exaltation and depression over the re sults of the election of officers and re served for himself a den of his own, in which before rows of little round bot -Jtles full of glycerin, Canadian balsam and staining agents he still cut sections with a microtome and peeped through his long brass old fashioned microscope at the arcana of nature. With his typ ical faco, clean shaven on lip and chin, with a firm mouth, a strong jaw, a steady eye and two little white fluffs of whiHkers. he could never be taken for anything lint what he was—a high class British medical consultant of the age of 60, or perhaps just a year or two older. The doctor in his heyday had been cool over great things, but now in his re tirement he was fussy over trifles. Tho man who had operated without the quiv er of a finger when not only his patient's life bnt his own reputation aud future were at stake was now shaken to tho soul by a mislaid book or a cureless inaid. | He remark I it himself and knew the reason. "When Mary was alive," he would say. "she stood between mo and tlui little troubles. I could brace myself ! fm- the big ones. My girls are as good as girls can be, but who can know a man as his wife knows him?" Then his mem ory would conjure up a tuft of brown hair and a single white, thin hand over a coverlet, and he would feel as we have all felt—that if we do not live and know each otlior after death then indeed we are tricked and betrayed by all the high est hopes aud subtlest intuitions of our j nature. Tho doctor had his compensations to make tip for his loss. The great scales of fate had been held on a level for him, for where in all great London could one find two sweeter girls, more loving, more intelligent and more sympathetic than Clara and Ida Walker? So bright were they, so quick, so interested in all which interested him, that if it were possible for a man to be compensated for the loss of a good wife theu Balthazar Walker might claim to be so. Clara was tall and thin and supple, with a graceful, womanly figure. There was something stately and distinguished in her carriage—"queenly" her friends calted her. while her critics described heras reserved and distant. Such as it was, however, it was part and parcel of herself, for she was and had always from her childhood teen different from anyone around her. There was nothing gregari ous in her nature. She thought with her own mind, saw with her own eyes, acted from her own impulse. Her face was pale—striking rather than prfctty—but with two great dark eyes, so earnestly questioning, so quick m their transitions from joy to pat hos, so swift in their com ment upon every word and deed arount her—those eyes alone were to many more attractive than nil the beauty of her younger sister. Hers was a strong, quiet soul, and it was her firm hand which had taken over the duties of her niother. had ordered the house, restrained the servants, comforted her father and uphelcf her weaker sister from the day of that great misfortune. Ida Walker was a hand's breadth small er tjkan Clara, but was a little fuller in H thofiace and plumper In the figure. She had light yellow hair, mischievous blue eyes, with the light of humor ever twin kling in their depths, and a largo, per fectly formed uiouth, with that slight up ward curve of the corners which goes with a keen appreciation of fun. suggest ing even in repose that a latent smile is ever lurking at tho edges of the lips. She was modern tp the soles of her dainty little high heeled shoes, frankly fond of dress and of pleasure, devoted to tennis and to comic opera, delighted with a dance—which came in her way only too seldom—longing over for some new ex citement, and yet behind all this lighter side of her character a thoroughly good, healthy minded English girl, the life and soul of the house and the idol of her Bis ter and her futher. Such was the family at No. 2. A jieop into the remaining villa, and our introductions are complete. Admiral Hay Denver did not belong to the florid, white haired, hearty school of sea dogs which is moro common in workß of fiction than in the navy list. On tho contrary, he was the representative of a much more common type which is the antithesis of the conventional sailor. He was a thin, hard featured man, with an ascetic, aquiline cast of face, grizzled and hollow cheeked, clean shaven, with the exception of tho tiniest curved promon tory of ash colored whisker. An observer accustomed to classify men might have put him down as a canon of the church with a taste for lay costume and a coun try life, or as the master of a large pub lic school, who joined his scholars in their outdoor sports. His lips were firm, his chin prominent, he had a hard, dry eye, and his manner was precise and formal. Forty years of stern discipline had made him reserved and silent. Yet when at his ease with un equal he could read ily assume a less quarter deck style, and he had a fund of little dry stories of the world and its ways which were of inter est from one who had seen so many phases of life. Dry and spare, as lean as a jockey aud as tough as whipcord, he might be seen any day swinging his sil ver headed Malacca cane and pacing along the suburban roads with tho same measured gait with which he had been wont to tread the poop of his flagship. He wore a good service stripe upon his cheek, for on one side it was pitted and scarred where a spurt of gravel knocked up by a round Bhot had struck him 130 years before when ho served in the Lan caster gun battery. Yet he was hale and sound, and though he was 15 years senior to his friend, the doctor, he might have passed as the younger man. Mrs. Hay Denver's life had been a very broken one, nnd her record ni>on land represented a greater amount of endur ance aud self sucrifice than his upon the sea They had been together for four mouths after their marriago, and then had come a hiatus of four years, during which he was flitting about between St. Helena and the Oil rivers in a gunboat. Then came a blessed year of peace and domesticity, to be followed by nine years, with only a three mouths' break—five upon the Pacific station and four on the East Indian. After that was a respite in the shape of five years in the Channel squadron, with periodical runs home, and then again he was off to the Medi terranean for three years nnd to Halifax . for four. Now at last, however, this old married couple, who were still almost strangers to one another, had come to gether in Norwood, where, if their short day had been checkered and broken, the evening at least promised to be sweet and mellow. In person Mrs. Hay Denver was tall nnd stout, with a bright, round, ruddy cheeked face still pretty, with a gracious, matronly comeliness. Her whole life was a round of devotion and of love, which was divided between her husband and her only son, Harold. This son it was who kept them in the neighborhood of London, for the admi ral was as fond of Bhips and of salt wa ter as ever aud wus as happy in the sheets of a 2-ton yacht Vs on the bridge of his 16-knot monitor. Hud he been untied tho Devonshire or Hampshire coast would certainly have been his choice. There was Harold, however, and Harold's interests were their chief care. Harold was 24 now. Three years before he had been taken in hand by an ac quaintance of his father's, the head of n considerable firm of stockbrokers, and fairly launched upon 'change. His 800- guinea entrance fee paid, his three sure ties of £SOO pounds each found, his name approved by the committee and all other formalities complied with, he found him self whirling around, an insignificant unit in the vortex of tho money market of the world. Thero, under the guidance of his fa ther's friend, he was instructed in the mysteries of bulling and of bearing, in tho strange usages of 'change, in the in tricacies of carrying over and of trans ferring. He learned to know where to place his clients' money, which of the jobbers would make a price in New Zea lands and which would touch nothing | but American rails, which might be trusted and which shunned. All thißond much moro he mastered, and to such purpose that ho soon began to prosper, to retain the clients who had been rec ; .ommended to him and to attract fresh ones. But tho work was never congen ial. He had inherited from his father his love of tho air of heaven, his affec tion for a manly and natural existence. To act as middleman between the pur suer of wealth and the wealth which he pursued, or to stand as a human barom eter, registering tho rise and fall of the great mammon pressure in the markets, was not the work for which Providence nmi placed those oroad shoulders ana Btrong limbs upon his well knit frame. His dark open face, too, with his straight Grecian nose, well opened brown eyes and round black curled head, were all those of a man who was fashioned for active physical work. Meanwhilo he was popular with his fellow brokers, re spected by his clients and beloved at home, but his spirit was restless within him, and his mind chafed unceasingly against his surroundings. - "Do you know, Willy," said Mrs. Hay Denver one evening as she stood behind her husband's chair, with her hand upon his shoulder, "I think sometimes that Harold is not quite liappy." "Ho looks happy, the young rascal," answered the admiral, pointing with his cigar. It was after dinner, and through the open French window of the dining room a clear view was to be had of the tenuis court and the players. A set had just been finished, and young Charles Westmacott was hitting up the balls as high as he couid send them in the middle of the ground. Dr. Walker and Mrs. Westmacott were pacing up and down the lawn, the lady waving her racket as she emphasized her remarks, and the doctor listening with slanting head and little nods of agreement. Against the rails at tho near end Harold was leaning in his flannels talking to the two sisters, who stood listening to him with their long dark shadows streaming down the lawn behind them. The girls were dressed alikoin dark skirts, withlightpink tennis blouses and pink bands on their straw hats, so that as they stood with the soft red of tho setting sun tinging their faces, Clara denmro and quiet, Ida mischievous and daring, it was a group which might have pleased the eyo of a more exacting critic than the old sailor. Dr. Walker and Mm. Westmacott were pacing up and down the lawn. "Yes, he looks happy, mother," ho re peated with a chuckle. "It was not so long ago since it was you and I who were standing like that, and I don't-re member that wo were very unhappy either. It was croquet in our time, and the ladies had not reefed in their skirts quite so taut. What year would it be} Just before tho commission of the Penel ope." Mrs. Hay Denver ran her lingers through his grizzled hair. "It was when you came buck in the Antelope, just be fore you got your step." "Ah, the old Antelope! What a clip per she was I She could sail two points nearer the wind than anything of her tonnage in the service. You remember her, mother. You saw her come into Plymouth bay. Wasn't sho a beauty?" "She was indeed, dear. But whon 1 say that I think that Harold is not hap py I mean in his daily life. Has it never struck you how thoughtful he is at times and how absentminded?" "In love perhaps, the young dog. He seems to havo found snug moorings now at any rate." "I think that it is very likely that you are right, Willy," answered the mother seriously. "But with which of them?" "I cannot tell." "Well, they are very charming girls, both of them. But as long as he hangs in tho wind between the two it cannot be serious. After all, the boy is four and twenty, and he made £SOO last year. He is better able to marry than I was when I was lieutenant." "I think that we can see which it is now," remarked tho observant mother. Charles Westmacott had ceased to knock the tennis balls about and was chatting with Clara Walker, while Ida and Harold Denver were Btill talking by the railing with little outbursts of laughter. Pres ently a fresh set was formed, and Dr. Walker, the odd man out, came through the wicket gate and strolled up tho gar den walk. "Good evening, Mrs. Hay Denver," said he, raising his broad straw hat. "May I come in?" "Good .evening, doctor. Prny do." "Try one of these," said the admiral, holding out his cigar case. "They are not bad. I got them on tho Mosquito coast. I was thinking of signaling to you, but you seemed so very happy out there." "Mrs. Westmacott is a very clever woman," said the doctor, lighting the cigar. "By the way, you spoke about the Mosquito coast just now. Did you see much of tho Hy la when you were out there?" "No such name on the list," answered tho seaman with decision. "There's tho Hydra, a harbor defense turret ship, but she never leaves the home waters." The doctor laughed. "We live in two separate worlds," said ho. "The Hylais the little green tree frog, and Bealo has founded some of his views on protoplasm upon the appearances of its nerve cells. It is a subject in which I take an in terest." "There were vermin of all sorts in the woods. When I have been on river serv ice, I havo heard it at night like the en gine room when you are on tho measured milo. You can't sleep for tho piping and croaking and chirping. Great Scott, what a woman that is! Sho was across the lawn in three jumps. She would havo made a captain of the foretop in tho old days." "She is a very remarkable woman." "A very cranky one." "A very sensible ono in some things," remarked Mrs. Hay Denver. "Look at that now!" cried the admiral, with a hinge of his forefinger at tho doctor. "Yon mark my words, Walker, if we don't look out that woman will raise a mutiny with her preaching. Here's my wife disaffected already, and your girls will be no better. Wo must combine, man. or there's an end of all discipline." "No doubt she is a little excessive in her views," said the doctor, "but in the main I think as she does." "Bravo, doctor!" cried the lady. "What, turned traitor to your sex! We'll court martial you as a deserter." "She is quite right. Tho professions are not sufficiently open to women. They are still far too much circumscribed in their employments. They are a feeble folk, the women who have to work for their bread—poor, unorganized, timid, taking as a favor what they might de mand as a right. That is why their case is not more constantly before tho public, for if their cry for redress was as great as their grievance it would fill the world to tho exclusion of all others. It is all very well for us to be courteous to the rich, the refined, those to whom life is already made easy. It is u mere form, a trick of manner. If wo are truly courte ous, wo shall stoop to lift up struggling womanhood when she really needs our help—when it is lifo and death to her whether she has it or not. And then to cant about it being unwomanly to work in tho higher professions. It is womanly enough to starve, but unwomanly to use tho brains which God has given them. Is it not a monstrous contention?" The admiral chuckled. "You aro like ono of these phonographs. Walker," said he. "You have had all this talked into you, and now you aro reeling it off again. It's rank mutiny, every word of it, for man has his duties ai.d woman has hers, but they aro as separate as their natures are. I suppose that we shall have a wom an hoisting her pennant on the flagship presently and taking command of the Channel squadron." "Well, you have a woman on the throno taking command of the whole nation," remarked his wife, "and everybody is agreed that she does it better than any of the men." Tho admiral was somewhat staggered by this home thrust. "That's quite an other thing," said he. "You should come to their next meet ing. lam to take the chair. I liavo just promised Mrs. Weatmacott _ that I will do so. But it has turned chilly, and it is time that tho girls were indoors. Good night. I shall look out for you after breakfast for our constitutional, admi ral.'-' The old sailor looked after his friend with a twinkle in his eyes. "How old is he, mother?" "About 50, I thifik." "And Mrs. Westmacott?" "I heard that she was 43." Tho admirul rubbed his hands and shook with amusement. "We'll find one of these days that three and two make one," said he. "I'll bet you a now bon net on it, mother." [CONTINUED ON THURSDAY ] Tliem Flowers. Pake a feller 'nt's sick and laid upon the shelf. All shaky and tainted and pore, Jes' all so knocked out he can't handle hisself With a stiff upper lip any more; Shot him up all alone in the glooin of a room As dark as (lie tomb and as grim. And then tako and send him some roses in bloom. And you can have fun out o' himl You've kctchcd him 'fore now, when his liver was sound And his appetite notched like a saw, A-mockin you maybe for romancin round With a big posy bunch in yen paw. Hut you ketch him, say, when his health is away And he's flat on his back in distress. And then you can trot out your little bokay And not be insulted, I guess. You see, it's like this, what his weaknesses is— Them flowers makes him think of the days Of his innocent youth, and that mother o' his. And the roses that siio ust to raise. So here, all alone with the roses you send, Bein sick and all trimbly and faint— My eyes is— ray eyes is—my eyes is—old friend- Is a-leak in— I'm blamed if they ain'tl —James Whitcomb Riley. 1 History and Poetry. Three men seem real as living men wo know— ! The Florentine, whose face, woo worn and dark, Rossetti drew; the Norman duke, "so stark | Of arm that nono hut him might draw his bow," And gentle Shakespeare, though enshrouded eo In his own thought that some men cannot mark The soul his hook reveals, ns when a lark Sings from a cloud, unseen by men below. But still more real than these seem other three Who never walked on earth -Hamlet, the Dane; The "noble Moor," the cruel Scottish thane. Ambition's thrall. How strango that they should be, Though naught but figments of the poet's brain. Instinct with life an<l yet more real than he! —Temple Bar. Heredities* We polish over many things And try to get them out of view. Wo seek to curb their innate springs And change them in their native hi e. We educate the intellect And cultivate a perfect taste That we may hold our heads erect. With souls subdued, refined and chaste, But edicts from a social throne, However lordly, great and stout. Must leave the breeding in tlio bone— They cannot force the marrow out. For breeding and environment Form culture's measure and extent. —Burton T. Doyle. Ode to the Workingmun. i Poets may aid thee in their dulcet strains, : Inventors aid thee with their magic brains. Philanthropists love thee In their massive hearts, j Merchants vend cheap to thee at their great marts. Good women pity thee In thy hard toil. Nature yield up to thee fruits of her soil. But sweeter than all odes that sympathy sings Is the owtd thy employer on each pay day brings. Wlio Shall Arbitrate? Now, who shall arbitrate? Ten men love what I hate. Shun what I follow, slight what I receive; Ten who In cars and eyes Match me, wo all surmise, They, this thing, and I, that—whom shall my I soul believe? -Browning. J MY FIRST SHIPWRECK On a bright August clay in 1R44 the schoon er Margaret, William Thomas master, \ laden with a c..rgo of merchandise from Holland, was proceeding up the British j jhaunel toward her home port, Bristol. She was a small trading vessel, 120 tons i register, carrying a crew of four men with j the captain, mate, cook, carpenter and two , boys, ono of whom was myself. x months before, I, a youngster of 15, ! had left my home at St. Helena and was ! now serving my first term of apprentice- j ship with Captain Thomas, to whom I had ! been bound for four years. All that day tho weather had been glori ous. Toward sunset tlie clouds began to gather in heavy masses to the southeast, and a little later a heavy breeze sprang up from that direction. As morning dawned a dense fog settled down over the vessel and completely ob scured everything. Soundings were taken, hut tho captain seemed to get no knowl edge of our whereabouts. When daylight came, the sea had changed color. This proved us in shallow water. Tho lend was hove. Tho soundings were only 12 fathoms. "Wear ship!" shouted Captain Thomas iu a thundering tone. Suddenly the fog lifted. At the same in stant the wind changed to the southwest, blowing harder. A cloud of canvas flew into the air. Looking up I saw it was the jib. The vessel lost what little headway she bad and drifted heavily to leeward. As the fog cleared toward the land wo looked eagerly in that direction, and to our dismay and horror we saw heavy breakers beating so close on us that there was no room in which to wear the ship round. The captain at once gave orders to clear away the anchors. The mate went forward with an ax and cut the lashings of tho one on the port side. As soon as the cable be gan to run out the starboard anchor was cut adrift, and 30 fathoms of its cable were run out. Tho order was then given to "hold on." As this was obeyed tho port cable broke. The schooner immediately swung around, bringing all her weight on the starboard ca ble. The latter, unable to withstand the strain, parted, and then we were left en tirely to the mercy of wind and sea. Nothing less than a miracle could save us. It was impossible to see whether we were driving onto a sandy beach or onto tho rocks. The suspense was short. A tre mendous sea came rolling toward us. Strik ing us with terrific force, it lifted us high on its crest and carried us forward toward the breakers and then drove us with a crash onto tho sandy bottom, and at the same instant down came the foremast, taking with it the jibboom and bowsprit, and all disappeared together into the sea. Wave after wave washed over us in quick succession. The mainmast was split, and the noise made by it as it was beaten about by the gale was deafening. All we could do i was to hold on for dear life. At last one sea heavier than all the others lifted the ship bodily and then dashed her down with a giant's strength onto the sand. The bottom was stove in, and she be gan rapidly to fill with water. Every one for himself was now the cry throughout the ship. How far from shore we were I could not tell. We had to take our chances. Although a good swimmer, I know that in such a tremendous sea I should be powerless. There was, however, but the one thing to do. Raising my hands before me and press ing them firmly together, I drew a long breath, then sprang from the schooner's rail down into the water beneath. When I rose to the surface, I tried to swim. It was impossible, as I had foreseen. I was like a child in the grasp of a monster. The waves tossed me up like a plaything and carried me on—l could not tell how or where. Suddenly a great black object loomed up before me. It was part of the wreckage. 1 tried to ward it off, but I might as well have tried to ward off the schooner itself, for the sea lifted me up and dashed me on ward, and the great mass struck me a heavy blow over my eyes—a flash of light ning gleamed; then all was darkness and a blank. llow long after, I could not tell, a strange sensation came creeping slowly over me. A low murmur of voices reached my ear. I was bewildered and benumbed, but soon the truth began to dawn, and I knew that wherever I might be J was not dead. Pow erless to speak or move, I opened my eyes— which were large and dark—and fastened them upon the faces around me. With screams of fear, all turned and ran, leaving mc there alone. Again looking around I discovered that I was lying on a bed of straw in a large barn, j How I could have got there was yet a mys- I tery. While attempting to understand how j it came about my ear caught the sound of a heavy footstep on the board floor. Raising my eyes, to my great delight I recognized the mate of the schooner. "Well, Jack, yer ain't dead yet, are yer?" I said -he, coming to my side and bending over. "We'd all gin yer up, and the people ; here tho't yer was a sperrit," laughing to himself as he made this encouraging obser i vation. I For several days no one supposed I would live. All that pity could do was done for me by those kind Welsh people. Day and ! night they watched by my bed, and al though all communication was made by signs I felt that I was in good hands. But at the end of two weeks I was able to re port to Captain Thomas, who was staying a short distance away, and in a few days I was again on the sea, feeling no bad result j from my first shipwreck.—Captain Charles William Kennedy in Detroit News. The Way to Make a Cannon. Turnccioletti obtained leave to visit the manufactory of weapons at Terni. An en- I gineer politely showed him round, but soon j grew weary of the innumerable questions j to which he was compelled to give courte- j ous answers. At length Turaceioletti de cided to take his departure, but on reaching i tho door lie said to the guide: "Before I go would you mind explaining to me how manage to construct a 100- ton steel cannon?" For a moment or two the engineer was speechless, but soon recovered hisequanim I it-y ami replied: "Oh! it is not so difficult as you think. You take a hole and put the steel all round it!"—Corriere dei Bagui. Tho Library In the Home. The library has its etiquette, social laws and good form. In this inviting place the inmates enjoy the calm repose, the new books, the firelight's sparkle __Jiere they pen the loving words, and in this sanctum our intellectual life grows, spreads and di gests.—Good Housekeeping. The Ago or tho World. ; Sir Archibald Geikie of the British asso ciation, after careful thought and patient investigation, together with a great deal of figuring, has come to the conclusion that j the world is between 73,000,000 and 050,000,- j ' 000 years old.— London Tit-Bita. I CASTORIA for Infants and Children. "Caetoria is so well adapted to children that I recommend it as superior to any prescription i known to mo." 11. A. ARCH EH, M. D., 11l So. Oxford St., Brooklyn, N. Y. "The use of ' Castoria' is so universal and its merits so well known that it seems a work of supererogation to endorse it. Few are the intelligent families who do not keep Castoria within easy reach." CAKLO9 MARTYN. D. D., New York City. Late Fastor Bloomingdale Reformed Church. TNS CENTAUR COMPANY, 77 MURRAY STREET, NEW YORK. 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My doctor says it nets gently on tho stonmch, liver and kidneys, and is a plenum it. laxative. This drink i i tnudo from herbs, and is prepared for use as easily n < tea. It in called L AN E'S MEDICINE All druggist a sell It at floo. and FI.(X) a package. If > Youc.mnotgot tt.ser.-t vmiruddri bs i .r freesnhipli- LIMC'R Fumlty Mi.l.l.ie moves tl,.- I- tich day. In >n! rto be I.ervhliy.t'iMl-'nce. OK V t oil Is'. \VOt)l)\V AIC I>, 1..i.0V,N.Y. EDA7CD AXL rilfl£m GREASE BEST IX THE WORLD. Itewearingqualitiesaro uneurpasncd, actually | outlasting two boxes of any other brand. Not fTe.ted by heat. Iy'GET Til E KI'.S I IXE. FPU SALE BY 1> FA LEU 3 C. ENEiIALLY. Ijjr ™A N "DEA LRM ILY "M "DTCI"NE" | For liilloiiHneHH| g ic'itmpit' xlon, Offensive Kreot'h, , " and all disorders of the Stomach, 3 |Liver and Bowels, m ! , RIPANS TABULES, pact gently yet promptly. Ferfoet MKMy Iby'drug'iristsorH.'nt hvnmii. ® (6 vials), 76e. Package (4 boxes), $2. I For free samples address L,mi — r °" York. Entirely f I^Sf^iVSGnABLEj TA ndra SM a I ij^TE^icUßE^ ; COSTIVEN ESS 2 Biliousness, Dyspepsia, | Indigestion, Diseases of I the Kidneys, Torpid Liver I ' Rheumatism, Dizziness, 7 1 Sick Headache, Loss of f I Appetite,Jaundice,Erup 7 I tions and Skin Diseases. 7 k Prico 25C. per fcottlo, Coll hy all Druggists. m L H^ r> Q°Q i Q| <n Sold at Schilcker's Drug Store Advdrtise in tlie Tuiiiune. Castoria cures Colic, Constipation, Sour Stomach, Diarrha;a. Eructation, Kills Worms, gives sleeft and promotes di gestion, Without injurious medication. " For several years I have recommended your ' Castoria, 1 and shall always continue to do HO as it has invariably produced beneficial results." EDWIN F. PARDEE, M. D. F "The Winthrop," 125 th Street and 7th Ave., New York City, —i Caveats, and Trade-Marks obtained, and all Pat- J d ent business conducted for MODERATE FEES. d JOUR OFFICE IS OPPOSITE U. S. PATENT OFFICE # 5 and wc can secure patent in less time than those J d remote from Washington. * f Send model, drawing or photo., with descrip-f Stion. We advise, if patentable or not, free of 5 a charge. Our fee not due till patent is secured. # t A PAMPHLET, "How to Obtain Patents," with# 5 cost of same in the U. S. and foreign countries £ A sent free. Address, 2 :C.A.SNOW&CO.: OPP. PATENT J ItOffITS9 • Ea, Whooping Cough, Bronchitis 2nd A.(lima. A certain cure for Consumption in first stj- \ r-ii n sure relief in advanced stages. USE . You will pee the excellent client afi-r t .. . I first dose, "told by dealers everywficr.. . ! bottles 50 cents and SI.OO. Scientific American ' AVERTS, TRADE MARKS, p*v- DESION PATENTS, Ea ~' COPYRIGHTS, etc. For Information and frco Handbook write to MUNN <FC CO., ;I BHOADWAT, NEW YORK. Oldest bureau for securing patents In America. Kvery patent taken out by us is brought before the public by a notice giveu free of charge in the Scientific Jtotmnw Largest circulation of any sclentiflc paper in tho world. Splendidly illuHtrated. No Intelligent roan should be without it. Weekly. £3.00 a yeart f I.sosix months. Address MUNN SL CO., pLBLIBHURft, 301 Broudwuy, New York City. WE TELL YOU nothing new when we state that it pays to encage in a p rinaueiit, most healthy and pleasant busi ness, that returns u profit for every day's work. Such Is the business we offer the working class. We tench them how to make money rapidly, and guarantee every one who follows our instructions '.lithfully the making 01 tt.'IOO.OO >i month. Kvery one who takes hold now and works will surely and speedily increase their earnings; there can be no uuestion about it; others now at work | are doing it, and you, reader, can do the same. This is the best paying business that you have I ever had the chance to secure. You will make a grave mistake if you fail to give it a trial at once. If you grasp the situation, and art quickly, you will directly find yourself in a most prosperous business, at which you can surely make and save ; large sums of money. The results of only a few hours' work will often equal a week's wages. Whether you are old or voting, man or woman, it makes no difference, —do as we tell you, and suc cess will meet you at the very start. Neither experience or capital necessary. Those who work for us arc rewarded. Why not write to day for lull particulars, l'ree ? K. C' ALLKN Ac CO., ltox No 4'40, Augusta, Me. ) I TALES FROM TOWN TOPICS. Q/-J year of the most successful Quarterly ever published. Mo/?, san .'t.OOO LEADING NEWS -1 A1 h.RS in North America have complimented this publication during its first year, and uni versally concede that its numbers afford the brightest and most entertaining reading that can be had. Published ist day of September. December. March and June. Ask Newsdealer for It, or send the price, ou cents, in stamps or postal note to TOWN TOPICS, 21 Went 23d St., New York. , ?V' This brilliiint Quarterly is net made up irom tho current year s issues of TOWN TOPICS, but contains the best stories, sketches, bur lesques, poems, witticisms, etc., from the back numbers of that unique journal, admittedly tn? cmpesL raciest, most complete, and to all IRI'.N AND \Y<M!l>,.\ the most interest ing weekly ever issued. Subscription Price: Town Topics, por year, • -$4 00 Talss Prom Town Topics, per yoar, 2.00 The two clotted, • - . 6.00 9 TSL" ToPICB 84:01 a moutlls on trial for X. ll.—Previous Nos. of "TALKS" will be I lxn * tl,aicl, ou rctc 'P l I
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