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TANUNSOUGHT WEALTH;
41.11
44
Or The flystery of a Brother's Legacy,
•
CHAPTER XIV. He suited "the action to the world
Whore Mr. Hookham at last return -and the word to the actian" by put-
•ed to Mitre Court, he made himself ting thorn into the inside breast
fast; within his chambers, He sport- pocket of his coat, Then leo stood,
• od his oak, bolting, barring, and silently looking round the room. As
locking it, and securing it by every if unconsciously, his hand wandered
means within his power, Thou he to his waistcoat pocket. The fin -
went through a similar process With
slippo i inside. When they came
the inner door, and when he had back they brought the diamond with
made his fortrosas what de deemed them. He looked down at it.
sufficiently impregnable, be stood •for "'Ile ape," he said.
a moment, listening. 'There was •not He laughed. He had not laughed
a sound. All was still. Then ho for years — perhaps that was why
-+t turned, and let his eyes travel round his laugh had grown so rusty. 1f
• the room. laughter with .situ meant emitting
It was certainly a large room, and such a sound, ono could but hope,
it was certainly ill -furnished -- the either that he would oil the works
light of the solitary tallow candle or never laugh again.
revealed so much as that. At the
opposite end of the room was a
door, which led into his sleeping
room. Next to the door was an an-
cient cereal -oak mantelpiece. It was
not a bad mantelpiece in its way,
but it added to. the sombre appear-
ance of the room: There was a
huge old-fasrhioned open grate, large
enough, in the colloquial phrase, to
roast an ox. Just then it was reed
with rust, and littered with odrds
and ends and scraps of paper. It
looked 'desolate and dirty. There
was no carpet on the floor—Mr.
Hookham dispensed with such a lux-
ury as that—and the floor itself was
worm-eaten and old; it locked as
though it had never been washed for
years. The principal article of fur-'
niture the room contained was a
largo old oak table, which •occupied
the center. It had doubtless orig-
inally been intended to serve as a
dining table, but since those days
it had apparently done duty in a
nursery or schoolroom, for it had
been scarred by knives, covered with
names and initials, which had been
cut, and in some cases burnt, deep
into the wood, and blotched with
ink. A ragged old couch stood at
one side against the wall; three or-
dinary chairs, and one arm -chair ---
it was such a ruin of an arrenchair!
—occupied positions about the
room. And, if we except the safe,
that was all the furniture the place
contained. The safe was half built
into the wall. It had once been
painted green, but the paint had
long since gone. Small patches of
it were visible here and there, but
for the most part the safe which ap-
peared to have been constructed of
cast-iron, was as rusty as the
grate.
Nor was the cheerless look of the
apartment lessened by the ludas-crib-
able state of litter it was in. Tho
floor was half hidden beneath an ex-
td•aordinary conglomeration of con-
trasting articles. Among them were
two or three tin boxes, with their
locks wrenched off, a cash box in the
same condition, account books, odds
and ends of clothing, crockery, the
greater part of it shattered into
fragments, scraps of food, and a
great host of papers and documents,
of every size, shape, aned color; in
one place a paint pot, half full of
black paint, had been turned upside
down; probably it was the same
paint which Mr. Hookham hail used
to cover the inscription on the door.
In another a lamp had been broken.
The presence of the oil which had
been issued from it was unpleasant-
ly perceptible. On the table, which
was covered with the same incon-
gnliious collection, a quart bottle of
ink had been emptied. It seemed as
though some malignant sprite had
set himself to work as much .con-
fusion and do as much mischief as
was possible. .
Mr. Hookham stood, in grim - sil-
ence, observing his unpleasant. state
of things. As he gradually took. in.
the various details, and began to
fully realize the effect of the whole,
hisfeatures became, if possible,
harder and sterner than before.
"If I knew the lad who had clone
this, he should have a lifer."
There could be no doubt, judging
from the tone mail manner in which
the words were spoken, that if he
had anything to do with it the ]:ad
referred to would. He moved to the
table.
-The lamp broken! What shall I
do?"'
Ho looked at the candle. It was
one of those tallow "dips," which
we scarcely see nowadays, except in
chandlers' shops in out-of-the-way
places.
"I must manage with that. When
it is done for, I'll go to bed."
Hitherto to be
not removed
his
hat. This seeming to occur to him
all at once, he took it off. Putting
up his hand, he passed his fingers
through his thick growth of iron -
grey hair. Going to the safe, he
threw the door wide open. His eye
caught the open cash box Iying on
the floor. His glance wandered
round the room. It lighted on an
old red -leather box. He picked it
up. It was empty — shattered al-
most into fragments.
"Nearly nine hundred pounds'
worth of jewels! Curse the thief!".
Dropping the fragments of the red-,
leather box, he began examining in
hot haste the litter on the floor.
At last he carne on a sheaf of long
narrow slips of blue paper, tied
round with a. piece of red tape. They
wore bilis of exchange — another
form of security in which lie dealt.
Ho snatched them up. He ran
thro ugh them, with eager eyes and
fingers.
"Safe! The fool!"
That was the form, of thanks with
which he recorded the fact that they
had not gond with the jewels
"I'll put them in my pocket, for
the present they'll be better there.
, To -.morrow I'Il deposit them in
Chancery Lane., X ought to have
put there theme before, but I never
thought of burglars, so X alwabys
kept them ready to my hare'.,"
"Is all this owning, then, to
you?"
It was difficult to credit, hard to
believe, that the rare and wondrous
gem, almost seeming a miracle in its
great beauty, could. bring anything
but pieasero in its train.
"Must I, after all these years, be-
lieve that fairy tales are true?"
He raised his eyes from the stone.
Slightly throwing back his head, he
seemed to look into space with a
long, unflinching, gaze, as though he
wore looking for something which
was there.
"Tuve, true!„
He shook his head with an impa-
tient gesture.
"Bah.! If fairy tales. are true,
how I've wasted all those years!"
Be went to the safe, the door of
which was still wide open. He put
the diamond upon the lower shelf
and closed the door.
"Stay there awhile, I don't think
I need be afraid of being robbed of
you."
His glance travole'd again about
the room. He began to rummage
among the chaos on the floor. Af-
ter considerable marching, he un-
earthed from under a heap of papers
a short squab account book, which
was secured by two locks. He eyed
this with evident satisfaction. He
took his handkerchief from his poc-
ket and carefully wiped the covers.
Tucking it under his arra, he went
to the table. Clearing a space up-
on it, by the simple process of
sweeping off whatever was in the
way on. to the floor, he put the ac-
count book 'down. Fetching the
candle from where it stood, he plac-
ed it close by the book. He got
himself a chair. Taking a bunch of
keys front his pocket he opened the
locks, for each lock using a separate
key. Then, seating himself, he be-
gan studying the pages of his book.
His studies occupied him a con-
siderable time. Ho was continually
adding up columns of figures and jot-
ting down the totals on a piece of
paper at his side. These, in their
turn, he added up again. Finally,
he rested his elbow on the table and
shaded his eyes with his hand.
"I'm a rich man," he said. "A
rich man."
He rose from his seat and began
strolling round the room.
• "A rich man! A rich man!"
He repeated it two or three times,
as he paced on and an.
"Yes, -I'm a rich man, even as
riches go. As I stand, I'm wortlr
more than a million pounds."
A million pounds! That is a
large sun, even in these days of
many millions. He did not look as
though he were a millionaire. Nor
did the room look as though it were
a room in which a ,millionaire re-
sided. But then we know that some
of the richest men possess the sim-
plest tastes. They dine for nine -
pence, or even less, ride in penny
'buses, and wear shocking hats. If
Mr. Hookhana ever had a biographer,
possibly the historian — especially if
he were a believer in tee -"Self
Help" doctrine, "Live on sixpence a
day and die worth a hundred thou-
sand pounds" — might record, as
one of his hero's finest characteris-
tics, a beautiful simplicity.
When Mr. Hookham-had sufficiently
digested the fact how rich he was,
he went to the safe, and took out
the diamond again.
"So you're going to ruin me, are
you? It will take a good Heal of
ruining, .more than a million. Espe-
cially invested. as I've invested
mine.
He placed the diamond beside his
act:ount hook on the table. He
seated himself. He leant. back in
his chair. Anis thought.
It never occurred to him that any
of that million was ill-gotten' — he
was not that sort of man. It nev-
er occurred to him that in getting
it he had wasted opportunities; he
could conscientiously lay his hand
upon his heart and say that he did
not think he ever had. It never oc-
curred to him that there was any
trifles as a home, a wife, children,
friends, reputatioam. The whole vol-
ume of sentiment which those things
represent was a sealed book to him
—he would not have unseale'd it if
he had had the chance. There is a
school of writers who tell us -- yes,
and over and over again — that ev-
ery man has "a romance" in his
life, that he is bound to be "mixed
up" with women, or, at any rate,
with one. It is the purest non-
sense. There aro multitudes of rnen
in whose lives women, to put it very
gently, take a secondary place — in
Mr. Hookham's life. they had, no
place at all. He had never kissed a
girl in his life — and never wanted
to.
Each man has his own idea of
happiness. Why not? And who
shall judge between them? The
writers of the love tales French,
American, or English? 0 ye gods.
and little Ashes! Mr. Hoolchene
found happiness in getting money —
not in the money wn.en it was got,
but in the getting it; in the race,
staff not the prize. Ile hone.etly did
not care for any of tho material de-
lighta whioh money buys. There axe
mann like that,though it bo neither
you nor 1—it is certainly not I!'l3ut
be did find pleasure in plotting,
Scheming, ferreting out methods by
means of whieh his money might be
made to increase and to prosper,
Just as the gardener delights in
"nursing" his plants --- axed what
lo.ve, patience, anti science aro neede
od to properly do that! -- so Mee
illookham delighted in "nursing his.
gold."
What did occur to him, as ho sat
thinking there, was this: it occrur
red to him to plan for the future..
There was the diamond in front of
him,. He realized that it was a new
'factor in his life — a factor which
istest be at once considered.
A million pounds! One can 'lo so
much with a million. Mr. gook -
ham told himself that he could do
such with his; what should lie clo?
Should he live up to it? Should he
leave it where it was, and draw tho
interest, and spend it? How? Then
there passed in array before Mr.
Ilookhann's mind the various ways in
which one • could spend the interest
of more than a million — say twelve
hundred thousand pounds. One could
buy a house, or several houses, and
furnish them. — with what? • Well,
with nothing that he cared for. One
might spend a certain amount on
the pleasures of the palate, but Mr,
Hookham ' cared nothing for them.
He could oat boiled beef and•carrrots
with any man, but ho had never
heard, nor wished to hoar, of la
haute cuisine, He had a general
idea that one could fool a ileal of
money away on women — indeed, be
had heard of many who had done so,
of many who were doing so still
but what pleasure they found in it
always hail been, and always would
be, a mystery to him. He right
marry a. wife she could spend his
money for him if to liked—but he
told himself quite candidly that he
would sooner dance on the tight
rope than marry a wife. Then there
wee horses; there were idiots who
lost their money in what was pop-
ularly called "racing"; but he pro-
tested inwardly that he had not got
'clown quite so low as that. Or he
might gamble — but he hail been a
gambler all his life; he had always
played to win to lose was agony%
What was there left? Ho was a
moan of limited education, and for
the life of him.he could not tell.
And yet — what was it which
made him lean forward and gaze
with eager eyes at the diamond? —
and yet there must be some means
of enjoying the wealth which he had
gained, He had read somewhere
about the "potentialities of riches."
The writer had been speitking of the
almost boundless realms of pleasure,
of happiness, which great wealth
commanaed. How strange that he
could think of none of those rich
men's kingdoms, those royal roads
to' remunerative spending, now.
Twelve 'hundred thousand pounds!
Why, with such a sum as that, a
man could do anything. Yes, but
what? What anything that was
something to him? Youth has plea-
sures which age has not; and eweu
such pleasures as age has require
cultivation. You don't like olives
when first you taste them. You
can't spring to the complete enjoy-
ment of an exquisite wine at a single
bound. Such men as Mr. Hookham,
if they can fed enjoyment in what
are called pleasures at all, only EMI
it in simple ones. And you cannot
spend the interest of twelve hundred
thousand pounds upon simplicity.
This seemed a little hard.
As he began to realize this — the
fact, which he had never faced be-
fore, that the spending of his money,
if it brought him anything, would
bring him pain his ears caught a
sudden sound. He glared at the
diamond. It came agtdn; it was the
sound of laughter; it came from the
stone. Was the diamond laughing
at him, then?
He rose from his spat with an an-
gry movement; he began again to
pace the room. Throughout his life
he had flattered himself upon one
thing — that he was not as other
men, a, ,fool. Was he, then, going to
become a fool now that he was old?
Was he going to be frightened by a
piece of stono—a diamond? Was he
going to allow so trivial a cause to
alter the whole end and purpose of
his life? Ho loved—be held his
hands out in front of him in a sort
of paroxysm—he loved, how he lov-
ed! getting money. The plotting,
the planning, and the scheming; the
over -reaching of his fellows, the
measuring of wits, the keenness of
the strife—as the hunt to the hound
these things were to his nostrils as
the breath of life. If it cane to
that, he would give the diamond
away to -morrow.
And yet — twenty thousand
pounds! He suffered a sense of phy-
sical pain at tho fdda of giving any-
thing. It violated a fundamental
law of his existence. He never had
given a beggar a penny he
his life; but lie had seen
other men .doing it; but he
had suffered for their sin. The
sight of such an action made him
ill at ease, just as an honest man
is i11 at ease by being made the in-
voluntary witness of a crime.. And
for him spontaneously, voluntarily,
of his own free will, to gide away
such a sum as twenty thousand
pounds. -he couldn't do itt He sleact-
dered as he only thought of it. Iris'
heart died within him; he was
afraid, just as the wretch is afraid
who meditates, in the 'dark hours of
the night, on some hideous crime.
He set himself to think out a me-
thod by which he could escape the
difficulty by, so to speak, some side
door. He realised that it would be
vain 'openly to attempt to sell the
stone; he realized, too, that it would
be equally vain to think of keeping
It. If it 'did not bring him ruin, it
might work him inconvenience; and
had he not already suffered actual
loss? No, while he feigned to give
it away, he must think of some
means by which he might secure for
himself an actual quid pro quo.
That was the problem which he set
himself to solve. .
(To 13e Continued),
yis,.,,,,�.o,�.;e*rc,r:nW. •�'i; �u*iV'"t''>i;� ,{,;•mm �{{,�;;(.k,
FOR FARMERS
$enson>l';ble and Prefiteble
i.
hints for the Busy Thiers ;?
u OfL the St�oll t` k "W
seNih4iiss
SEED POTATOES.
So far as known the fungus which
MUMS the common "rust" or late
blight and rot of potatoes lives
over winter only in the potato
tubers. It is of course possible that
it may exist in a resting stage in
the soil or the blighted vines or de-
cayed tubers, but more persistent
search has failed to discover this. If
this belief is correct and the only
place where the fungus lives through
the winter is in the' infected tubers
then the development of the 'disease
each succeeding year is a direct re-
sult of the planting of some such in-
fected tubers. All observations are
in harmony with this explanation.
The unusually early and general
development of the fungus the past
summer is thus explained, for there
was enough of the rot in the autumn
of 1901 to cause the widespread in-
fection of the tubers from which the
seed of 1902 was selected. It fol-
lows that the still worse develop-
ment of rot last season is prophetic
of a. disastrous occurrence of the dis-
ease in 1908, providing soil and
weather conditions next summer aro
at all favorable.
The practical question is what can
be done to lessen this clanger ? There
is no method known of disinfecting
such .diseased seed. Surface washes
aro useless for the fungus is safely
housed in the depths of the living
potato tissue—and any known means
of killing the fungus by chemicals
will ki]1 the potato also.
It has been suggested that heating
the seed potatoes six hours or long-
er at 108 deg. I?., or thereabouts,
dry heat, would kill the fungus with-
out injury to the potato. This has
not been fully demonstrated and
would not prove practical to most
farmers in case it is reliable.
The Vermont experiment station
authorities can recommend only two
things as practical. The first is
that unusual pains be taken this
season. to secure for seed potatoes
grown on light, well -drained soil,
which escaped' the blight—or else
those from fields so well sprayed as
to be protected. The second is that
next summer every potato grower
be prepared before -hand with spray-
ing outfit and chemicals ready for
prompt application of the bor-
deaux mixture when needed. Even in
so discouraging a season as the
last one this remedy has proved per-
fectly effective when used promptly
and thoroughly. In the well sprayed
fields at the Vermont station at
Burlington, a: considerable portion of
the vines were still green and grow-
ing on October first, and subsequent
diggings have shown practically no
rot.
SAVING AND USING MANURE.
The .manure must be carefully sav-
ed and judiciously applied to the
land if we are to get the full bene-
fits of feeding out of the products of
the farm on the farm. On many
farms, nearly, if not quite, half of
the manure is wasted. 'It is either
thrown out under the eaves or it is
wheeled out and dumped into the
yard, one wheel-liarrowful in a place.
Hero the rains wash it, and .much of
the valuable part goes off into some
ditch or hollow.
On a farm where the rotation of
crops is practiced, and it certainly
should be if we are to take the
easiest way of keeping up the fer-
tility of the land, the best place to
apply manure is on the grass land,
either meadows or pastures. The
land should be in grass or clover
two-thirds of the time. The chemist
tolls us that there is about as much
value in the liquid manure as in the
solids. Therefore, we should have
tight gutters in our stables and use
absorbents, such as cut up straw,
land plaster, manure from the horse
stable, etc.
The best way is to haul the man-
ure out every day and spread from
the waggon or sled when the weath-
er will permit. Now, if it is on
grass or clover, go over with a har-
row as soon as convenient in the
early' spring, before the lumps of
manure get dry and hard, and give
it p good harrowing. This will make
the manure fine ; scratch up the
ground a little and mix some of the
manure with the soil.
Done in this way it makes no:.hurt
in the hay, the yield of hay is in-
creased and it makes a thick, heavy
sod, and the humus in the soil will
be greatlyincreased,
so that we
seem to get the benefit of the man-
ure twice over ; and •second. by the
increased richness of the soil as a
result of the heavy root growth,
which adds an extra amo t f
un o
humus to the soil_
PROFIT IN EGGS.
To make the egg business pay you
must have well -flavored eggs.
Strange to say, the freshest of eggs
many times are eggs that are unfit
to eat, and yet, people will say an
egg is an egg.. Little they know,
evidently, concerning the real fresh
egg at its best. Eggs too vile for
food go every day to market, no
matter when they were gathered.
Many who keep hens for fresh eggs
are very careful about furnishing
strictly fresh eggs to their custom-
ers, but take no heed to their pro-
bable or possible flavor. We farmers
are responsible for a great many
little abuses that we are all too
apt to give no heed to, and we need
to mend our ways. Wo may begirt in
roal earnest at the poultry yards
and houses in turning over a new
leaf. If it means you, reader, take
the suggestion kindly, and begin at
once, and it will not only pay you
in dollars and cents, but in reputa-
tion. We know that putrid flesh
food, musty grain food, docayed
grains and ail manner of filthy thing
that fowls wilt eat if they conn° ung
der their oyes .are ruinous to eggs
and unhealthy for the fowls tbei-
selves. Should an animal die, our
fowls should never be permitted to
eat thereof. Should a fowl clic we
Should. bury it deep. Keep every
manner of unfit food from. your
fowls, old and young, Tho poultry
fruit ought to be inspected just a
Mauch as milk,
WHY IT IS DONE.
Widows Sign of Istournizig--firing
Guns for Friendship.
Xt is most surprising what a num-
ber of
knowing thlittleereasonthings. we do without
'
Why, for instance, do Widows wear
caps ? Perhaps you niay say be-
cause they make them look pretty
and interesting. But the real rea-
son is that when the Romans were
in' Britain widows shaved their
heads as a sign of mourning. Of
course a woman could not let her-
self be seen with a bald head, so she
made herself a pretty cap. And
mainsnow, though the necessity of wearing
it has passecl away, the cap re-
.
Why do fair ladies break a bottle
of wine on the ship they are chris-
tening ? It is merely another sur-
vival of barbaric custom. In the
days of sacrifice to the gods it was
customary to get some poor animal
when a boat was being launched,
and to cut its throat over the
prow, so that its blood baptised it.
Why are dignitaries deafened by a
salute when they visit a foreign
port ? It seems a curious sort of
welcome, this firing oft of guns, but
it became the custom in a very rea-
sonable way. Originally a town or
a warship fired oft its guns on tbe
approach of important and friendly
strangers to show that as they had
faith in the visitors' peaceful inten-
tions they did nbt think it necessary
to keep their guns loaded.
4
i>t'1ta Ra We MAtE l
CATaRH'. A
ase
is sant direct to t1;e diseased
parts by the Improved Blower.
Heats the nlcere, clears athe air
thrrooat gesa d gennaannainily cuIn es
Catarrh and Hay Fevar. Blower
Is[. dIden dCe.lTaro yL sand fuffao,
li
PROGRESS OF INVENTION.
The facility with which an automo-
bile turns a corner depends upon the
fact that its motor driven axle is in
two pieces connected with betel
wheels and a pinion. In turning the
pinion is loosened on its stud, which
permits the two wheels, each of
Which is solid on its axle, to revolve
at different speeds.
The ancient tanner paid an expert
high wages to guess at the contents
of his hides when sold by measure.
To -day an unskilled workman hands
the irzegular shaped pieces to a lit-
tle machine that looks something
like a table with a double top,
which, quicker than the mind of the
expert 'could guess it, reckons with
exactness the square contents in
both the metric and standard sys-
tems.
f!:iectric billiards is a new amuse -
Welty.
Parisians, described in Elec-
tricity. It is played on a table in
the center of which is a plate of
some easily electrified material. The
billiard balls are of compressed
pitch, and the cue is a short rod
with a cork tip prepared chemically.
The balls being attracted by the
plate adds greatly to the 'difficulty
of making caroms.
A Dutchman was relating his mar-
vellous escape from death, when
thirteen of his companions were
drowned by the upsetting of a boat
and he alone was saved. "And how
did you escape their fate?" asked
one of his hearers. "I tid not go in
to boat," was the Dutchman's placid
reply. •
They were standing at the front
door and he had just said good-
night for the eeveretnunznmmr mzmin
night for the seventeenth consecutive
time, when a gruff voice was wafted
down from the head of the stairs.
"Going (home, young luau?" queried
the party behind the aforesaid voice.
"Y -yes, sir," stammered the love-
lorn youth in the good -night s'ene.
"All right," said the gruff. voice. "I
wish you would stop and tell the
butcher to send us up some lamb
chops for breakfast. Good -morn-'
ing.'
Ql ilFcifen's Aliments.
t!unyan`a Remedios) for Children*
"Train rnotbers to intelligently loop
after the health of their families and
the well-being of a nation is .ssured."
--rifunyon.
It has assuredly been a labor of love
for me to study the diseases of children
with a view to their relief and oure.
Many grown people will stubbornly cling
to the debilitating drugs and nostrums
that are a reit(' of barbarism, but 1 hold
that it is almost a crime to give them
to children at the risk of physical and
mental degeneration. My remedies for
children's diseases are effective and
prompt, but they are entirely harmless.
Every thoughtful mother should have a
Munyon Family Medicine Chest, and
should never fail to keep It supplied with
Munyon's Cold Cure, Cough Cure, Sore
Throat Cure, Fever Cure, D. D. & 0, Tab-
lets, Croup Cure, Cholera Morbus Cure,
Constipation Cure, Worm Cure, Face and
Skin Ointment, Munyon's Balm and Mun-
yon's Plasters. This chest will prove an
Unfailing silent friend in the hour of
need. A few doses of the proper remedy
given at the right time will prevent loug
and dangerous spells of sickness, and
save many doctors' fees.
M INTON'S REMEDIES.
24unyon's Mediclne Cases, $2.50, 11{
and 110.
Afunyon's Cold Cure prevents pneu.
reonia, and breaks up a cold in a few
hours. Price 25c.
Personal letters addressed to Prof.
Munyon, Philadelphia, U. S. A., contain-
ing details of sickness, will be answer,
ed promptly and free advice as to treat-
ment will be given. 1213
.b ---i;
FOR HUSBANDS ONLY.
Hints for the Guidance of the
Head of the Family.
The money-maker of the family has
his own troubles—no one ever doubt-
ed that—but the housekeeper has a
few, too, and it would not be out
of place to give her a little con-
sideration. The man of the house,
therefore, might paste these sugges-
tions in his hat, if he does not con-
sider them impertinent.
Assume a cheerfulness, even though
you do not feel it, on coming home
in the evening'.
Greet your wife with a smile, in-
stead of an impatient inquiry as to
when dinner will be ready.
Do not complain any more than is
absolutely necessary about the
toughness of the beef, nor the com-
parative inferiority of the bread.
Do not tell your wife that you
cannot imagine what she does with
all the money she has to spend.
Do not ask her what she did with
the $1,.25 you gave her last month,
'Wore you respond to leer appeal for
1 25 cents to send out to get some
butter.
Do not tell her at once that you
saw tho prettiest woman you have
'seen for a long time in town that;
day ; it will hurt her feelings.
Do not say the children are the
worst behaved you ever saw.
DRINK WATER BEFORE MEALS.
While the general opinion of those
supposed to be authorities on this
matter has been that the habit of
drinking water at meals is a de-
leterious one, it is now stated, "ac-
cording to recent investigations, that
a little water, if not too cold,'' is
beneficial, - as it assists in the diges-
tion of food. A too copious supply
of water dilutes the gastric juice,
and if too cold it lowers the tem-
perature of the stomach below nor-
mal, thus impairing digestion. If,
however, water is taken in limited
quantities, the peptones formed by
the action of gastric juice on food
will be washed aside, thereby facili-
tating absorption. By this mens
the undigested food is laid bare, and
is more susceptible to further action
of the gastric juice. During the
period of rest phlegm, being veiny
tenacious, prevents the free flow of
gastric juice for some time, and
hence delays digestion. A drink of
water before meals is recommended
because is loosens and washes away
this deposit of mucus, thereby per-
mitting the gastric juice to attack
the food as it enters the stomach.
Could "' of Turn Over
Bladder Affected
Sufferings—Cured
Chase
in :ed—Kidneys and
— Experience Great
byy pp gyp ` �{
The old people especially appreci-
ate the effectiveness of Dr, Chase's,
Kidney -Liver Pills, because'''tho kid-
neys are usually the first of the bod-
ily organs to give out, and the re-
sult is backache, lumbago, pains in
the s1P.e and limbs, urinary disor-
ders, and constipation.
01d people learn to trust in Dr.
Chase's Kidney -Liver Pills, for when
all other treatments fail this great
medicine seems to go directly to the
diseased part, and promptly •affords
relief and cure.
Mr. David Misener,Farmer, an old
and respeotod resident of Port Rob-
inson, Welland. County, Ont., writes:
"I wish to state to you that I had
pain in my back and loft side for
ever twenty years. At times I could
not tuna over in bed,. I was so badly
used up. I had cramps in my feet
and legs, and my hands wore so en-
tirely useless that I could scarcely
lift anything."
"Kidney disease, was, no 'doubt:,
the cause of all my suffering, and
sometimes the uTin,ary trouble would
be so bad that I would have to get
up five or six times during the night.
Fortunately, I began using Dr.
Chase's Kidney -Liver Pills, and they
cured me completely. I am now 79
years old and quite well now, but
still occasionally nee these pills to
keep my system in good order. Sev-
eral persons to whom I have recom.
mended Dr. • Chase's Kidney -Liver
Pills have been equally benefited.'"
Dr. Chase's Kidney -Liver Pills, the
comfort of old age, one pill. a 'dose,
25 cents a box, at all dealers, oa'
h''dntanston, Bates Si 00.e Tozolito,
UNDOING MAN
l!TA', iTREREP' S THE HARM'
DON4 .ON' ST. 'xi,I'N'OVNT.
Quantities of the Volcano lens+!+
Was1ied ,d.wzty by Heavy
,Ttaxxis.
The'scientifle mein, sent out by the
Royal Society of England to stu+dyY,.
the volcanic .eruptions.in the Wosl
Indies have made their report, It
contafns.a very interesting stato-
mont of the work the torrential latus.
are doing in . removing the deep lay-
ers of volcano :dust under which a
large part of the surface of northern
St. Vincent was buried by the ebul-
litions from the Soufriere volcazio,'
South of the volcano were a rein
ber of deep valleys extending nearly
or quite across the island from east
to west and clothed before the erup-
tion with the most luxuriant tropi-
cal vegetation. The great black
clouds discharged from Soufriere and
heavily laden with incandescent dust
1111 these valleys with outpouriegs
to a depth in some places as groat
as 200 feat.
Very little of the mass was de-
posited 011 the ridges between the
valleys, for the force with whfeli
it was hurled was too great to per-
mit it to lo'dge on the ridges, The
hollows received most of the Vol-
canic sand, which lay in rolling
masses like drifted snow. This was
the first geographical alteration •
which the outburst made in the ap-
pearance of that region.
Qix weeks later another change
aad taken place and the al5pearaneg
of tl'e valleys was again strangely
altered.
TE.Jil WET SEASON
had set in anti as much, as five
inches of rain were recorded in a
single day.
The torrents pouring down the
great hill slopes were playing havoc
with the loose material that had
filled the valleys. The surface was
everywhere scarred with rain • fur-
rows that joined together, in a sort
of feather pattern, • into larger
streams which cut still deeper chan-
nels into the soft material. These
channels also united, forming rivers
to take the place of the old ones
which had been buried out of sight.
In some places they re -excavated the
old channels, while in other they cut
new and quite independent ones.
The amount of 'denudation accom-
plished in a few weeks would seem
incredible to one accustomed to the
leisurely rate of change in temper-
ate climates. The Wallibu excavat-
ed a new bed in the still volcanic
sand nearly 80 feet deep and loftin
places as many as five or six ter-
races to mark the successive ,stages
of its excavation.
The torrents of water after dig-
ging a channel would undermine the
steep banks on either side, starting
landslides of hot "dust. which fell in-
to the river, causing explosions of
steam which threw showers of hot
mud to a height of perhaps 150
feet, while great clouds of steam
rose to a height of many hundred
feet and were carried away to the
sea by the trade winds.
There was another interesting phe-
nomenon. Sometimes the fallen
dust dammed the streams, and when
tbe water at last overcome the ob-
struction it descended no longer as
water, but as a gush of boiling hot
mud which made the river beds im-
passable, and built up alluvial lay
ers of mull spreading out like fans
(alluvial fans) at tbe
MOUTHS OF THE RIVERS.
The explorers brought home many
photographs showing the progress of
these interesting phenomena. One of
them depicts the rolling and round-
ed character of the surface. of the
deposits and the many furrows and
gullies that had already been cut by
the rain. Another taken in the
Wallibu Valley shows the terraces of
hot sand marking the Ievel to which
the valley had been filled by the
eruptions and some of the successive
stages of its re -excavation. Weeks
after the eruptions the sand was
still so hot that steam, was produc-
ed wherever water cae into con-
tact with it.
Other pictures show the alluvial
fans formed, at the mouths of the
rivers, and new beaches along the
sea that had been formed in about
a month of the material washed
from the cliffs or carried down by
the rains.
Thus 'the forces of nature are rap-
idly changing the new topography
that was introduced by the erup-
tions. A vast amount of the vol-
canic 'debris is being washed demon
to the sea.
If the two West Indies volcanoes
which have 'done so much damage
return soon to their former quiescent
state it will not be many years be-
fore all the land surface they so
T
completer desolated will be covered
again with tropical verdure; and the
present desert -like aspect will bo
wholly replaced by myriad forms of
vegetable life that will hide the
-scars and blisters on the surface
which were produced 'during a few
terrible hours. -
WHOLESALE VACCINATION.•.:
Probably the largest wholesale or.
der for vaccination ever issued was
remade recently at Union Town, Penn-
sylvania, where the Frick Coal Cone
parry, as a precaution against the.
threatened epidemic of smallpox, or-
dered the whole of their einnloye:l
and their families to be vaccinated.
This affects no fewer than 800,000
persons.
RATHER TOO PRBVIOUS.
Whortleberry -- "I need a now suit
of clothes, Mr. Cutaway, but I'nm a
little hard----"
Cutaway — "No use talking, sir;
X can't furnish 'em."
Whortloberry -» "Well, 1 hardly
thought you could furnish, what X
want, for, as I Was about to say,
I'm a little hare' to please, end when
a man pa,•y a caheei 'down, .you know,
ho wants the best. Geed -day, sin's