i
at. hi,- n ftswrrw rr
J t .i lril Ui
3
I
I
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' V !
3 t
I it
f
f
J y cocUoue to
Juced beaeacial
UndTthATBL.
i-VewToiUcstyi
Kw Yowl
1ES C. DOYLIM, Publisher.
The Vadesboro FA.
rr
' -1
If&encer Consolidated July, I OSS.
NEW SEPJES-YOL. V.-K0. 40.
WADJB0E03 N. CTI1UH
JAMJAET 28, 1892.
After
Eating
rsp3osia
Makes the lire of many peopla miserable,
and often leads to self-destruction. Distress
alter eating, sour stomach, sick headache,
heartbnrn, loss of appetite, a faint, " all gone "
' feeling, bad taste, coated tongue, and irregu
. larity of the towels, are
some or the more common
symptoms. Dyspepsia does
not get wen of Itself. It
requires careful, persistent
attention, and a remedy like Hood's Sarsa-
par Ola, which acts gently, yet sorely an
efficiently. It tones the stomach and other
organs, regulates the digestion, creates a
good appetite, and by thus Sick
overcoming the local symp- ' .
toms removes the 8ympa-303CnO
flietlc effects of the disease, banishes the
headache, and refreshes the tired mind.
"I have been troubled with dyspepsia. -1
bad but little appetite, and what I did eat
, rf distressed me, or -did me
nearx little good. In . an hour
bum .-" after eating I would expe
rience, a faintaess, or tired, all-gone feeling,
as though I had not eaten anything. " My trou
ble, I think, was aggravated ly my business,
which is that of a painter, and from being
more .or less shut up in a SOUX
loom with fresh paint Last e . " U
spring I took Hood's Sarsa- OtOmacn
rffla took three bottles. It did me an
Immense amount of good. It gave me an
appetite, and my food relished and satisfied
the cravjng I had previously experienced." .
CEOKcac A. Page, Watertown, Mass. ; .
Hood's Sarsaparilla
BoldbyaUdrnggists. -fl; sir for fa. Prepared only
ky C. I. IIOOD A CO., Apothecaries, XoweO, SUss,
IOO Doses One Dollar
W. A. EOSE,
GEERL ISURAHCKGET
Represents the leading Fire and Life Insur
ance Companies, -Office
Martin Street", Wadesboro. N. C. ft
9 LEE D. ROBINSON,
. ATTORNST AD COUNCKI-IAB-AT-IJkW, !
" WA.DESBORO, N. C.
. AH business given prompt attention
AV. E. GRAY, D. J). S.;
DENTIST,
(Office Over I Huntley's Store,)
Wadesboro, North. Carolina.
ALL OPERATIONS WARRANTED. '
6-tf . -S----"::"- -v ' -' '-
T. J. INGRAM
Corner Wade and Rutherford streets,
WADESBORO, N. C,
jyill continue to furni&h his patrons with
BEEF,
Sliitton, Pork, Poultry, Butter,
Egrgs, Fresh Oysters, Fish, '
- Fruits and Vegetables, :
And whatever else can satisfy the appetite
jf a gontlernan always giving the best the
fnarket affordSi I wftlfly the highest lnar
tt price for Cow? Hogs, Sheep, Chicker.E,
Eggs. &c. &c. 27tf
Anson Institute,
' - WADESBOKO, N,C. .
P. A. McGregor. A B .PiiiNciPAi,.
TIMNWITIIATIi
By "W. 0. EUDS02I CBarclay UortliX
fjCopyright. 1891, by Cassell Publishing Com
pany and published by special arrangement
with them.
CHAPTER XVIL
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i-vui jr W'F.Ut Md.MiRVOl'S man, and learu to
ifr. Jhctoee pot up dv.d goinn to his desX
. took from a pigeon hole a little book.
While Dorison -was having the conver
sation with the woman,; as set forth in
the previous chapter, Cathcart was la
boring over a mass of notes in his own
chamber in Bond street. .
"The story is made," he said, as he
leaned back in his chair, his hands thrust
in his vest pockets. "Facts are connect
ed by a little effort of the imagination.
A little work in confirming the imagi
nary parts, and if it does not go to pieces,
that part of the affair is concluded. If
it does, at all events there will bo tri
umph enough in the other part to com
pensate for all the labor."
"Dm," he muttered, as he reached for
ward, taking up a memorandum. "The
records show the house to have been
transferred April twenty-second, eight
een hundred and fifty-four, by Richard
Basselin, for eleven thousand five hun
dred dollars; a check 1b given to
Richard Basselin April twenty-second,
eighteen hundred and fifty-four, a certi
fied check, and indorsed by Richard
Basselin is returned as a voucher. Thus
a . clear connection is unmistakably
traced. Now to put that other concep
tion of mine to the test, and if It should
prove to be a correct one the road will
be straight to the end."
He took up another pile of notes, and
began the work of arranging in accord
ance with some plan he carried in his
head. Finishing which, he transferred
the contents of each separate slip of
paper to a sheet, commenting as he did
io in brief sentences: "That fits like a
love." "That is somewhat contradic
ry." "There is a straight connection."
A screw loose there, and so on.
He was thus engaged when Don son
mtered. '
"Any new developments?" he asked
urtly. ;
"I have had a rather singular adven
ture this morning, which I have hastened
5o tell you." : : '
The old man opened a newspaper lying
beside him and spread it over the papers
ving on his table. -
Having done tnis to nis satisfaction,
he swung his chair around so that he
faced Donson, and said:
"Tell it to me in detail."
To do this it was necessary to again
go back to that evening when Dorison
wandered to Twenty-ninth street and
Third avenue that evening so fruitful
of results. - Dorison consumed half an
hour in the recital of his adventure, dur-.
ing which Cathcart listened intently,
erposmg neither word, motion nor
gesfiueeeping ms Keen, Dngnt eyes
on Dorison'sElCS
You have told iTwLand clearly,"
he said as Dorison concluded: ?42?.
necessity for going over it again. What
you tell is more important than you
suppose, I imagine. One part confirms
a theory I hardly dared to entertain.
You must heed that warning of the
woman." -
Dorison laughed in derision. ' .
"I give it no importance," he said; "I
told it simply as showing why the wom
an wrotema." . ,
But you must give it importance,"
said Cathcart earnestly. "Dosing is a
Western term for sandbagginz a man.
It means something." : -
Threatened men live long," laughed
Dorison. .
The old detective glanced irritably at
the young man, saying: ;
"You are self sufficient at tames, and
when you are you display your ignorance
of the ways of the world.
He took up a book of telegraph blanks
and rapidly scribbled a telegram, hand
ing it to Dorison.
"Will you do me the favor of sending
that when you leave here? You may
read it." -. . . . - -:.
Dorison did bo with some interest. It
was addressed to a private detective in
cmcago: .
Find as soon as possible whether
Harry Langdon was ever known by any
other name."
uonson inquirea waetner the person
to. whom the dispatch was addressed
would know who was meant.
Very well I have had previous cor
respondence on the matter. The officer
on Pittston," he coutinued abruntlv.
"has been able to find out very little
about him. So far as his life la con-
i ...
ceroea ne seems to D0 en&raeed .in ' no
business idling his time innocently.
it is eipiainea, nowever, Dy the news
you bring me that I was recognized by
him. ' They have suspended whatever
business they were up to until they find
out what I'm up to. They evidently
think I'm here on a visit only. One
more question and then you must go.
Have you seen the elcjer Eustace yet?"
- "No; I have tried to, without success.
"Don't do it for several days. Indeed,
don't meet him at all; avoid him. until
you see me again." -
" Wondering what was the reason of
this sudden change of policy, Dorison
promised.
"I want you fo be within call," said
the detective. "My impression is that
you woua .do better to keep to your
rooms, so that if I want you I can find
you without delay. .
"Very well." " ;
"Now, get away. I've work to do."
- As Dorison went out of the room ( Cath
cart called on Boine one in an adjoining
room. The officer who had shadowed
Laugdon and Pittston appeared.
"Mr. Dudley is threatened with in
jury," he eaid. "by Langdon and Pitts
ton. They won't do it; some one whom
they employ will, if it is done at all. I
-want you to be on his track and see if he
He obstinately refuses to
I think a disguise will be
is followed.
believe in it.
necessary." ; . ;
"I can follow him home today with
out one. After that 1 will "fake" -up
something." . - ; ;
"Very well."
So soon as the officer had hurried out
after Dorison, Cathcart gathered up his
papers on the table and placed them in a
wooden box on the floor, which he locked
carefully. Donning his topcoat and
taking his hat, he went out, walking to .
the Bowery. Here he sought, a drug
store, and entering, asked'permissiob, to
look at the directory.- Securing the ad
dress he desired,' he took an up bound
Fourth avenue car.
Arriving at the corner of Fifty-sixth
street he descended and walked in the
direction of ITifth avenue. Near that
thoroughfare of fashion and wealth he
stopped and ascended-the steps of one of
the handsomest dwellings of the block.
It was the residence of Herbert G la
yering Eustace.
This is my card, he said to the serv
ant. "But it will convey nothing to
Mr. Eustace. Please tell him my call
is not a social one, but on business, im
portant business."
He was called into a rear room, which
Mr. Eustace" reserved as his study.
"I have brought you here because we
would be free from interruption," said
Mr. Eustace. "I am at your service,
sir. ... ....
Cathcart bent his head a moment as if
thinking how to begin his business. Mr.
Eustace waited patiently and courte
ously.
"I am here," said the old detective,
in pursuance of an inquiry I am con
ducting, and recent developments have
suggested to me that you may have
much knowledge of the matter."
He lifted his head as he completed his
sentence, and regarded Mr. Eustace fix
edly.
"Unless I am further Informed," re
plied Mr. Eustace smiling, "1 shall be
unable to tell whether I have the infor
mation you desire or not."
On the fourteenth day of July,
eighteen hundred and seventy-one," said
Cathcart, Ignoring tne remara ana pro--
ceeding as in continuance of his begin
ning, "Reuben Dorison - died. When
found an unfinished letter was berore
him. He had been stricken with death
in the very act of its composition. To
whom it was intended to be addressed
never was known, is " not known now.
Jjut it did a great wrong. It charged
some one with the commission of many
crimes, to cover which and to pay the
damages of which had wasted his for
tune. He was asking for assistance. By
implication indeed, one may say by in
ference aloue these crimes were charged
against his only son, a young man upon
whom he had lavished his affection and
of whom he had apparently been very
fond."
Ah!" said Mr. Eustace, deeply inter
ested, VI can confirm that."
"The executor and the Immediate
friends, however, insisted that the letter
condemned the son, and indeed em
ployed the police to trace the crimes
charged, and the friends of the young
man .cut him and snubbed him. He
strove as frantically to disprove the
charges 'as, the police worked industri
ously to trace them. Both failed utterly,
and the son, at last despairing and
wholly miserable, abandoned further ef
fort, left the city and settled in the west
At this late day I am employed in an
endeavor to solve the riddle. -I am a
western detective."
Mr. Eustace gave a great start, and a
look of blank amazement spread over
his face. It was as if he had said in
words, "You a detective! I never would
have believed it. You do not meet my
preconception of a detective at all."
"This movement instituted by the
young man, after the lapse of eight
years, has no other purpose than that of
removing from his name the stigma
plaSSd flpon it by that unfinished letter.
He seeks no property, for his father's ex
ecutors discovered tuerwas no property
left" - . - .
'No property left?" exclaimed Mr,
Eustace. "Why, he had a splendid
property."
AHad, yes. But not when he died.
Permit me to show you a copy of that
unfortunate letter.
He handed Mr. Eustace a sheet of pa
per which he had taken from his pocket
After it was read Mr. Eustace returned
it, saying:
"I. was abroad at the time of Mr.
Dorison's death, had been for several
years, and for two years after. At the
exact time I was in the far east upon a
special diplomatic mission, and there
fore not until my return to Paris, many
months afterward, did I hear of its oc
currence. I presume by .that time inter
est in the events surrounding it had sub
sided, and upon my return to this city was
almost all forgotten, and what was re
membered was perverted. All that
heard was that the young man had be
haved very badly, and had been discard
ed by his father previous to the father's
death; that he had disappeared. I thought
it strange, for the very last letter I had
from Reuben. Dorison, written some
weeks before his death, but received by
me many months after it, while speak
ing of troubles complicating his old age,
referred in enthusiastic "terms to the
comfort and pride he had in his only
son." '-. "
"You maintained a close intimacy with
Mr. Dorison?" asked Cathoart , v
"Yes, it could not be closer," replied
Mr. Eustace warmly. "At one period
of our lives it was sacredly confidential
a confidence which . doubtless would
have made me familiar with every event
in his life, and him with that in mine,
had noa long separation by which we
pould not meet, except at the Intervals
of years, and then only briefly, occurred.
Upon my side there was absolutely no
reservation so long as it continued."
. "He did you essential service atone
time?" -
"He did, indeed."
: "Saved you from ruin by taking
charge of your estate, which youihad en
dangered by extravagance and reckless
ness of life, lending the aid of his finances
and credit?" . ' , ; .
The face of Mr. Eustace flushed deep
ly, and looked with no little anger upon
the calm and immobile face of the de
tective"
"It is true, sir," he replied, with his
stateliest manner; "but hpw you came
to know it I cannot .tell."
VI have finally won Mr. Dorison's
executor to a belief in the innocence of
the son. He has giyen rae access to all
of the papers of the estate."
x ou are at no nains to m&ke your
words gentle. aiu . Mr. Eustace, with
much dignity.
"I am a forgepn with a probe. 1 "enn-
not expect" to escape inflicting pain. 1
Justice delayed eight years demands the
truth at all cost I have read you very
inaccurately if I am mistaken in assum
ing you to be a inatf of strict honor, high
regard for justice and a deep sense of
II .11; a? - . ...
me oDiigsuon a man owes anewer in
distress." - r - , " -
Mr. Eustace colored under the flatter
ing estimate of his character.
I asked the question from no idle
curiosity, nor from a desire to inflict
pain, but in order to confirm a theory I
had formed as to the relations existing
between you - and Mr. Dorison. Such
confidence and reliance as you gave him
begets a return. It is knowledge of Mr.
Dorison's life I want, not of yours.
Now, sir, up to this time you have ac
cepted me on the strength of my own
statement as to what I am. I am about
to ask you questions which you should
not answer a stranger or one having no
reasonable right to ask them. Do me
the favor to examine my credentials." -
He handed Mr. Eustace a package of
papers he drew from an inner pocket
and lay back in his chair patiently await
ing their examination.
In time Mr. Eustace returned them.
"I am satisfied, sir; some of them
credit you with great eminence in your
profession." .
I have done some good work in my
time," replied Cathcart indifferently. "If
yon are satisfied as to my identity we
will proceed."
Mr. Eustace was evidently greatly im
pressed with his visitor, and yielded to
him as most men did.
"1 apprehend," said Cathcart, that
we will make greater progress if I sub
mit my theory to you and try to see
whether we can .erect it into a certainty.
You will perceive in that unfinished let
ter a direct reference is made to a son.
The writer seems to be" borne down by
the fact that all the evils he has recited
are to attributed to an ungrateful son.
Kow, inasmuch as he had "but one son.
.he superficial and 'perhaps natural sup
position would be that that son was re
ferred to. But we are immediately con
fronted with the fact that nothing in the
life, of the young man can be found to
justify the charges. .
"Upon the contrary, we find abundant
evidence that that son was treated with
confidence, pride, affection arid generos
ity, which the son repaid with an affec
tion and attention quite as strong. Thia
certainly is contradictory. But if fur
ther evidence is wanted it is to be found
in the almost frantic endeavors of the
young man himself to disprove the
Charges endeavors ill directed and ill
advised, as might be expected in a boy
only i twenty-three throwing himself
open to the most rigid examination, and,
further, that after having brooded on
these troubles for eight years, he has set
the inquiry ou foot again. Thoso who
are inclined to look leniently on the
young man say that the elder Dorison
must have been stricken with an insan
ity which was a precursor of his death,
or. that if be had been permitted to fin
ish the letter it would have been found
that he would have qualified the charges.
Others, and by far the majority, includ
ing the long and clear headed men of
the police, insist that the charges are
direct and unequivocal. 1 disagree with
alL" . -'
Mr. Eustace, who had been sitting in
his easy chair, with his elbow resting
upon the arm, supporting his chin,
straightened up and looked with rising
color upon the old detective.
"You will notice," continued Cathcart.
taking out the copy of the unfinished let
ter, "that in the reference to this son he
uses the term, 'an ungrateful son,' not
my ungrateful son, nor the ungrateful
son of my heart r life or old age, as
men often speak. He uses the Indefinite
article, 'an'"j
r "And you reason there was another
son," interrupted Mr. Eustace excitedly.
"1 do,! replied Cathcart firmly "an
illegitimate son. Therefore, believing
that to be so, and knowing the relations
existing between you and Mr. Dorison, 1
am come to' know whether you have any
thing-in your possession any knowledge
which jt!?fanes such a theory?
Mr. Eustace Vcee Jrom his chair im
pulsively, and rapidly .wnlked.up and
down the apartment with long slrtdzs;
evidently much agitated.
"You are touching upon sacred confi
dences,": said Mr. Eustace finally. "1
do not know" '. , - - '
"OneT moment," Interrupted the old
detective hastily; "I am not without
knowledge that the elder Dorison had
some relation with a woman just what
it was 1 do not know, but his portsait,
his seal ring and parts of letters written
bv him were found in her apartments.
But stronger than all Is this: For a num
ber of years, that is to say, for twenty-
fiye years, thia woman occupied a house
down town, the title to which was vested
in her name. This property was trans
ferred to her April twenty-second, eight
een hundred and fifty-four, by Richard
Basselin, the consideration being eleven
thousand five hundred dollars. I
find among the papers of the Dorison
estate a voucher, a check drawn on the
Chemical . bank for eleven thousand
five hundred dollars, in favor of
Richard Basselin, dated April twenty-
second, eighteen hundred and fifty-four.
signed by Reuben Dorison, certified by
the cashier on that day and indorsed by
Richard Basselin. Subsequently,- Rich
ard Basselin removed to Buffalo, where
he died a little more than a year ago.
You perceive that a connection is estab
lished. The nature of that connection
is what 1 now desire to ascertain. "i
Mr Eustace bad stopped in front of
Cathcart as the latter talked. He asked
suddenly:
The name of that woman?"
"1 prefer to follow my own plan of in
quiry and endeavor to elicit information
before disclosing it f have no objection
to giving it and will do so before I leave.
The Important thing is not to satisfy
your curiosity but to justify my theory.
Mr. Eustace turned an irritable glance
open the old man, sitting so calm and
imperturbable at his fireside. Ha re
sumed his valk. -
".""I have some information, no doubt,
that will assist you. - vnas you are
telling me iswholly new. The question
in my mind is whether I should tell that
which was given me under the solemn
seal of secrecy."
"Have you the right to obstruct the
search of a young man leading to the
restoration of his good name? I appeal
to .you as a man of justice. I appeal
also to your recollection of Reuben Don-
son, and ask, if it. were possible for him
to appear here for one moment, whether
he would refute you permission to un
lock your lips, when the doing of it
would tend to remove the disgrace from
a eon he thought mi much of, ad you have
- :- : yy 1
yourself testified. Finally, 1 say to you, ,
not in the way of a threat, but as.a pim
ple statement of fact, that there is an
other phase of this case that Boosofor
later the officers of the law must take
hold of, where you will b& summoned to
tell all you- know, unless 'you evade it by
telling me now!" . .
All of this increased the -gitation of
Mr. Eustace, and he said:
"The strongest appeal is the one to my
memory of Jvenben Dorison, J think you
are right there. -
He sat himself down In bis easy chair
and looked into the fire burning brightly
. grate a long time.
Cathcart sat silently by, but present
ing a firm attitude of irresistible perti
nacity in his determination to get the
story. .
"I have a strange tale to tell," finally
began Mr. Eustace, "and yet only the
outlines of it When Reuben Dorison
was a ' young man, subsequent to- his
father's death, perhapa then twenty-two
or twenty-three years old, before he was
-carried to ilary Oayering'a distant rela
tive of mine, he metjand fell in love with
beautiful young girl in a rank of life
much lower than his own. Where he
met her, or how, I never learned; but
her father was a costumer to one of the
theaters of that day, and had a shop in
Chatham street She returned that love
and they desired to marry. Her father
however, for reasons he would not give,
refused to give his consent grew violent
when it was talked of and Anally put her
away so effectually that Dorison could
learn nothing of her. When next he
heard of her she was married, and to a
man at the command of . her father
This story 1 had from his lips.
"I cannot recollect that I ever heard
her last name or that of the man she
married. : In Bpeaking to her he called
her Emma. Dorison's mother was bent
on his marrying Mary Clavering, and in
time brought about theqaatcb. Dorison
must have become reconciled to it" con
tinued Mr. Eustace musingly, more to
himself than to Cathcart, "for in those
days be seemed very happy, and his
home in Bleecker street was as pleasant
and gay as any in the city. He waa ex
ceedingly prosperous in business, and
the only cloud 1 could see dimming his
happiness waa the death of four children,
leaving him only one, the youngest a
boy. In eighteen hundred and fifty-one,
Dorison moved from Bleecker street to
Twenty-third street and a year later his
wife died, the boy then being four or five
years old."
Mr. Eustace got up and going to his
desk took from a pigeon hole a little
book. Turning over its leaves he exam
ined a- page of it attentively, and returned.
"1 am correct in my recollection.
One afternoon, three years after the
death of his wife, he came to me in
deep distress, saying he must relieve his
feelings by talking with some one he
could trust He said that two. years
previously he had met his early love, and
discovered that she was a widow that
her husband had treated her ill all his
life, and had several years previously
gone to another part or the country,
contributing sufficiently to her support
to escape charges of abandonment; - that
she had had advices of his death by
letter from one pf hia companions who
had sent her his private papers; and that
she was childless; that he found his love
for her returned, and in haste and with
out considering consequences had mar
ried her.- For reasons which he did not
giye me, he said he determined he would
-not make the marriage known until he
could carry out successfully his retire
ment from business and permanently
invest his property. So ho nod rented a
house and was providing for her as a
husband should, but still keeping the
fact of the marriage secret He had re
tired and waa about ready to announce
his second marriage, two children hav
ing been born to them in the meantime,
when the first husband presented him
self alive and in person. .
'Though Dorison had been compelled
to pay heavily to prevent the husband
from making a' scandal, from prosecut
ing his wife for bigamy and to go his
way and leave her in peace, the fact re
mained tb" 'she was not his wife, and
ccnhhnOt be recognized as such. Though
he was the father of her children, he
said the woman insisted on an absolute
severance of their relations. She said
they had sinned, but sinned innocently.
and that they could repair their wrong
only by separation. He had tried to
eoinbat her resolution, but she was im
movable and he was almost heart
broken, saying his love for her was
never so great as when she had shown
such nobility of soul; that she should be
surrounded by every comfort and that
her protection should be his care. Again
he refrained from the mention of names,
and handing me securities to the amount
of fifty thousand dollars, asked me to
hypothecate them on a long term.
"My theory is confirmed," said Cath
cart "Did he ever refer to it agaim
"No," replied Eustace, "except once In
answer to a question, when he said that
affairs had settled into a sad and quiet
rut and he avoided thought of It as much
as possible. Not long after this affair
occurred my own financial troubles, and
after they had been straightened out
upon which he labored much, I went
abroad in the diplomatio service. While
our warm friendship was never broken.
our confidences, by the fact of separa
tion only, ceased,1
"Urn," said the detective. "Is that all
you have to say?"
"No. One more point In eighteen
hundred and sixty-nino 1 returned from
the continent on a short visit leaving
my family behind me. The night before
I was to return, Dorison came to me,
begging to be excused for troubling me
at such an hour and time on such a mat
ter. He said he was in great trouble,
the causes of which were too many and
involved too long a story in explanation
to give them, He had with him a small
in case in which were contained ua
hundred and fifty thousand dollars of
government securities, which he said he
desired me to retain, subject to his
order, the reason for which he would
give me some time, lie had a receipt
prepared, sjmply reading, 'Received
from Reuben Dorison government secu
rities to the amount of one hundred and
fifty thousand dollars,' which he asked
me to sign, and 1 did.
" '1 am preparing, he said, 'for a
storm. You know the unfortunate affair.
1 became involved in. Thia is intended
to . be some reparation to the children
whose paternity 1 am compelled to deny
one cuiiu lernapsu were better to sn
In view of the fact that Euuni
husband is vet u!iv 1 -r.
on her, 1 fCi. t
them to her yet h
mafias on me, ot matters occurring ana
likely to occur in the future, they were
better out of my hands. 1 can think of
no better place than to put them in the
hands of a friend I trust as 1 do you. A
demand will be matld upon you, some
time. When it Is, yield them up only
on the presentation 6f this j3aper.'
"He showed me a paper written in red
ink, the edges of which were notched.
Here,' he continued, ia another piece of
paper, blank, which fits into these
notches.' I fitted them and saw they
compared. He went away. I never saw
mm alter, ana 1 yet nave tne piece oi
blank notched paper in my safe. The
bonds are in my possession, swollen by
interest and compound interest to nearly
a quarter of a million of dollars, and no
demand has yet been made for them."
"And never will be, said Cathcart
oositivelY.
' to be continued J
IlisTvcst of all in Leavening Vc
Thorough Work.
Youth's Companion.
The old saying that the German
piles up greenbacks where the Amer
icas sets out for the poor house is
strikingly illustrated in a etory from
Kankakee County, Illinois. Fritz
Loeb, an awkward young German,
trudged into the county one day, and
inquired the price of twenty acres of
land. Young Ed. Bunch, of whom
he rnade the inquiry, and who had
inherited a fine farm and money be
sides, laughed at him. A twenty
acre farm! he said, '"why, that
wouldn't support a hen and chickens.
Sof remarked the German.
Fritz bought his twenty acres of
land and went to work. Day after
day, as Mr. Bunch drove to town be
hind a span of bays, be saw Fritz
weeding the garden, cutting thistles.
or hoeing corn. The German's land
yielded more to the acre, his cows
gave more milk, his hens laid more
eggs than his rich neighbor's. Pretty
Mrs. Bunch, noting tbe German's
prosperity, said to him one day :
You ought to take a wife, Fritz.
'No one would haf me,' he smilingly
answered. -
'Some little Dutch girl might.
Sot
Yars rolled on. Fritz, prudent
and industrious, was making money.
Mr Bunch still rode to town behind
the ppan of bays, but he often bor
rowed money of the frugal German,
and before long the farm and stock
were mortgaged to tbe man who had
proved that a twenty acre farm would
support something besides a hen and
chickens. '
Mr. Bunch died, and Fritz came
into possession of the - fine farm.
There was little left for the widow
and her two boys! aged ten and
twelve..
'Dor Ieetle boys can drive oop d9r
cows und nig taters,' said fritz.
'lt dem live with me.'
The widow consented, and the
boys, fond of Fritz, threw up their
hats and turned somersaults ou the
grass.
' One day in July, Fritz took refuge
at the Bunch farm house during a
thunder shower. Tbe widow, nerv
ous at such times, .was glad to see
him, and gave him an easy chair
aud. invited him to enjoy a 6moke.
As the smoke from his pipe curled
up over his bead, Fritz remarked:
'Der farm vhas mind
'Yes, Fritz.
'Der span of bays vbaa mine!'
'Yen, Fritz.'
'Der leetle boys vhas mine!'
'Yes, Fritz.
I no likes to leave noddings. Vhas
der vidder mine?'
She looked through the window at
tbe rainbow arching the retreating
storm cloud, and she answered in a
Idw voice :
'Yes. Fritz.
The next day they drove to the
parsonage behind a span of bays.
The Formula Vwriea Slightly.
Detroit Free Press.
. Itjiappened long ago in a "Western
mining town. There wasn't a preach
er in the place, and when an exceed-j
ingly raw young- man and woman i
desired to eet married the services l
of tbe Police Judge were called in.
He had never had any experience in
that branch of his authority, but with
true Western enterprise lie agreed to
tackle the job, and the culprits were
brought before him.
'Stand up,' be said, as they seated
themselves, aud they stood up. "
'Come forward to the bar of jurtice,'
he continued with a pompous effort,
and -they came. , , j
'Guilty or not guilty V he asked as
they stood before him holding-.tiands
'Guilty, your Ilonor, responded
the groom.
'Is this your first offence?
'It is, your Honor, so help me.'
'Well, there's nothing to do but
impose a. life sentence on both of you
and assess the groom for tbe costs.'
'How much, your Honorf asked
the groom, going down . into bin
pockets.
Ten dollars.
The groom handed it over.
'Case is dismissed,' announced the
Judge, and the innocent young things
marched out of the room as radiant
as a June morning when the sunlight
kisses the roses until they blush
again,' .
ueurii. .
eir,
Well Within (he Law.
Magistrate You are charged,
with selling liquor on Sundays.
Prisoner Never sold a drop,
Judge.
'But here is a reputable witness
who entered your saloou bytheback
door lsri Guuday, called for a drink.-J
received a bottle and glass, poured
out a liberal quantity, drank it, and
paid for. it
"Does he say it was licker. Judge?"
'He says it tasted like liquor.'
'Well. Judge. I'am a lawabidin'
citizen. I am. Thai there feller tried
to break lb' law by buyiu' licker of
me, but I didn't sell bini no licker,
no, sir.'
'What did you sell him!'
'It was a temperance drink. Judge,
made up of turpentine an' kerosene,
red pepper au' eucb things. Judge. It
wasu't licker. Judge it only tasted
like it'New York Weekly. ,
There's a patent medicine which is
not a patebt medeicine paradoxical
as that may sou nd. It's a discovery I
the golden discovery of medical
science 1 Ii'b the medicine for you
tired, run down, exhausted, nerve
wasted men and women; for you
sufferers from diseases of bkin or
scalp, liver or lungs its chance iv"
with every one, its season alwa'
because it aims to purify the ?
tain of iife-the .blood upor
all such diseases depend, j
iciue is Dr. Pierce's Gold j
Discovery. The makeny'
enough confidence in il tc
That is you can get J
druggist, aud if it do,
claimed to do, yf
monpv bao.k. ev''
. i .
That 8
the risk
The Devil to Pay."
The phrase, 'The devil to pay," is
not so profane, in its origin nor eo
illegitimate as Borne might suppose.
In every printing office is a yolthful
specimen of humanity who. ct.nnot
be understandingly designated fo the
craft without borrowing the Plutonic
appellative. The phrase in question
doubtless originated in printing
ofiice on tbe occasion of tbe Saturday
night's settlement of weekly accounts.
The publisher, with a pcant purse,
receives the ominous call of his fore
man. -' ,. -
'Well, John, how is it? .What must
I pay to-night?'
Typus wants five dollars,"; and
Shootingatick wants four, aud Col -umnrulesays
he must bave seven.' -
You'll clean me out entirely. - My
subscribers haven't done a thing at
paying up thia week. But let's see.
Yes here's the money.
'And, sir I should like a few dol
lars for myself. r
That's bad. But here you have it
all I've got.'
'But, sir, you forget there a 'the
devil'to pay.
And cau we wonder that there-
after, when the poor publisher wished
to particularly empnasize - wnat no
deemed to be a perfect crusher in tie
way of business, he borrowed tbis
significant phrase?
Her Equals in Ran
Chicago News.
Not long ago two young
traveling 'out W est,' says a )er in
the New York World. As
stopped at a station two erj
terea ana tooK seats Qirecif-Tont
of them. Just as they wehted a
stout lady came forwarf eeled
them effusively, and the t? pt up
a lively conversation untf train
started. Then one of feaid
Sit down hpar near usa in a
little lower tone: Tell thirls to
fit somewhere else.' So l(ut one
turned round and eaid, most
freezingxf tones:
Tri?h to converse wit riends
and would lfke ihat seat, i Mrs.
President R , of this Toadr'v.
The girls stared at her an instant
and then one of them drawled : .
'Pleased to meet you, I'nv.&ure. I
suppose you know I am . MrS-Presi
deal HarriHon, of Washington,: and
the other girl, settling herself com
fortably iu ber seat, paid:
And I am Mrs. Queen Victoria. .
There was an audible . smile f rrP
the other passengers and the
lady went to her seat ia the r? '
Attention I If you- de.f
head of hair of a nature
n
J Wert '
liol
fat her '6
An epidemic of measles visited the
neighborhood, and George waa one
of the victims. His recovery waa
rapid, but as happens not infrequent
ly, the disease temporarily deranged
lita bearing. For several days he
was as deaf as the proverbial post.
He was still in this condition when
several strangers, in attendance upon
a convention in the town, were invi
ted to dinner. At his urgent request,
George, though still an invalid, waa
permitted to come to the table.
AH Hat down, and as tho guests
were clergymen, the judge turned
with his uual suavity, and requested
one of them to ask a blessing. But
evideutljr' iyjjeALir-rtss-u--
addressed with sufficient clearness;
for after all had bowed their beads,
there was a long pause, aud then
two of the strangers begau to effer
grace at the same moment. After a
few words, both abruptly slopped;
and then after auother pause still
more protracted than the first, both
started again. As both dreadtnl
another awkward pause, ana eacn
evidently thought iho "oilier would
immediately stop, they both kept
bravely on.
In the meanwhile, Goorge, hearing
not a word, and finding ou glancing
tip that every head was bjwed, con
cluded that all were waiting fur him;
and eo just as the two visitors bad
reached their amens, the dutiful
grandson began the long form of
grace which his grandfather had
taught him, abauug not one jot or
little of it, but repeating it with more
than bis accustomed deliberation, and
in a tone Of voice suited to his own
deaf condition.
When be bad finally hnisiied, a.
slowly raised "their heads, but noi'
dared look nt his ueighbor.-
- I think,' said the j iage,
gravitv acq'iired from many
.the beucli. 'w
now eafoly venture upon the
ICeitainly, in one lnstatf
1 Hood's Srsaparilla is y
Vccliou againut the dar'
blood, aud it will cur'
liiiseasesof this cW
7
t
f
m
I
V
f von its name of tlv'
7 s
3
lor hv ita mauvj
I Tbe hignest
riooas nus
action. Sold b;,
cents per box.
, Hood
luce 25 .
f
L
Trinity Eiu
juth Companion.
A wAmn 1 i A d o
-A- . .-...v... 1,
closely alike in
at often, when sh
irticular attentiy
to
day. after j
.
aying 6everai
hrticu
fable t
I One
jlayini
Jjer, one of
i iv.
free from dandruff. HallV
newer is the best and safe'
tion to accomplish it.
Eli-CXSB: Dr.
r