%e, boc 6dll EfrLOUIS JOSE AUTHOR OP "T & BRASS oiD-tyi^tTCMaTO?..^ by mi coPYMCtir ay Louta UOSZPH vahcs 8YNOP8I8. \ <1 David Ambor, ntartlna for a durk-ahoot- . Jng visit with Mb friend", Qualn. comes upon n young lady equestrian who haa been dismounted by her horse becomln* fright- c ened at the sudden appearance In tho road ^ of a burly Hindu. He declares ho Is I Feharl I.al (,'htttt orll, "the appointed ; tnouthpleoe of the Hell," addresses Amber hs a marl of high rank and pressing a mysterious little bronse box. "Tho Token," Into lils hand, disappears In tho v wood. Tho girl calls Amber by namn. I \ H?- In turn uddreBscs her as Miss Sophie . \ Karrell. daughter of Col. Farrell of the \ lirl'.lsh diplomatic service In India and ? \ visiting the Quoins. Several nights later \ the Qualn homo Is burglarised and the ' bronxe box stolen. Amber and Qualn go j hunting on nn island atrd become lost and . Amber Is left marooned. He wanders about, Anally reaches a cabin and roc- j ognizes as Ita occupant an old friend named Rutton, whom he last met In England. and who appears t<> be In hiding, f IVhen Miss Karri 11 is mentioned Rut-ton la , strangely agitated. Chatterjl appears and summons ltutton to a meeting of a | J mysterious body. Rutton .selz.s a revol- . I ver and dashes after Chatterjl. He re- | / turns wildly excited, says he has killed j r / the Hindu, takes poison, and when dying asks \mber to go to India on a mysterious errand. CHAPTER VI. (Continued). R The servant brought from Rutton's !! leather trunk u battered black- n japanned tin box. which, upon exploration, proved to contain little that might not have been anticipated. A bankbook issued by the Iioubo of Rothschild Pre res, Paris, showed a balance to the credit of H. D. Rutton of ^ something slightly under a million ^ francs. There was American money, chiefly in gold certificates of large 11 denominations, to the value of, roundly. $20,000. together with a handful of 0 French, German and Kngllsh bank- 5 notes which might have brought in n exchange about $250. In nddltlon to J those there was merely a slnglo en- ' velope. superscribed: "To be opened " in event of my death only. H. D. R." 11 Amber broke the seal and read the 1 enclosures once to himself and a sec- 8 ond time aloud to Doggott. The date J' was barely a year old. "For reasons personal to myself and sufflclent," Rutton had written, "I choose not to make a formal will. 1 shall die, probably In the near future, by my own hand, of poison. I wish to emuhaaize thin ">tntomnn? in avant i " *** ^ Q the circumstances surrounding my demise should appear to attach suspicion of murder upon any person or persons whatever. I am a widower and J' childless. What relations may survlve mo are distant and will never 8 appear to claim what estate I may ! x leav that an appi proi In n To have died or left me, however, the die- , 1 position of my effects Is a matter about which I am wholly careless." p The signature was unmistakably r genuine?the formal "H. D. Rutton" s with which Amber was familiar. It t was unwitnessed. n The Virginian put aside the paper '? and offered Doggott the blank cheque 011 Rothschilds'. "This," he said, r "makes you pretty nearly Independent- A ly rich. Doggott." h "Yes, sir." Doggott took the slip of paper in a hand that trembled even m his voice, and eyed it Incredulously. ^ "I've never 'ad anything like this be- h fere, sir; I 'ardly know whit it ^ means." "It means," explained Ambctf, "that. 1 when you've filled In that l-?.\nk and 1 hud the money collected .'rom the j Rothschilds vnii'U v 1 e .. uu vyui ur -wuii what cash Is here?In ?he neighbor- 1 hood of forty-five thousand pounds " sterling." Dr.ygott gasped, temporarily Inar- s tlculate. "Porty-flv-y thousands pounds? a Mr. Amber," he declared earn- I ^ sutly, "I never looked for nothln' like this. I?I never?I?" Quito without warning ho was quiet and composed Rg.iin. Vilght I ask It of you as a favor, f;'r, to look after this"?he offered to return the cheque?"for a j while, till I can inyku up my mind ^ wfcat to do with it." "Certainly." Amber took the paper, folded it and placed It in his card- f ease "I'd suggest that you deposit t It as soon as possible In a New York j ^ bnnk for collection. In :ho meantime, I 9 these bills are yours; you'd better c take care of thorn yourself until you v open the hanking ucconi^^^, ' v "It'll keep as as nnywh.-res " l)oggn;t considered, relork- | t ing the box*j0"\ 'aveu't 'ardly any iisd | ) for motxMBexcopt, of course, to tide | i lire ovor^B i find another position." i r "\S hat^^p exclaimed Amber In t amaze, t ^> s, tM," afflrnu d I)oggott respect- t ^i',nyVm a t)lt too old to chynge "f my w'vb*. a valet l'vo been all mv . t llfo and ft valet I'll die, sir. It's u>o lyto to think of anything else." r "15ut with this money. Hoggott?" ) "Heg pardon, sir, but 1 know; I i could llvo easy like a gentleman if I r liked?but 1 wouldn't be a gentleman, t so what's tho use of that? So tho w'yo r I look at It, there's naught for me but HK TOOK MEAI^ I 7^. Broker Banked "Friend's" Check After the Borrower Thought He Had Protected His Money. "Sen that heavily built guy who Juat came in?" said the broker to his friend In the cafe. "You may have noticed that he caught my eye, but passed on without a sign of recognition. Well, h?tfs a promoter. He and I used to ho ,great friends?ostensibly. Ho niBhod Into my o.T.co oue afternoon In a state j [ " " m VANCE * BOWb" &TC. n JJ Sf W-&Q3T20Q? ^ ;o on valetlr.g until I'm too old; aft hat the money'll be a comfort, tares'y. . . . Don't you think a ilr?" "I believe you're right, Doggot ?nly your common-sense surprises m Jut it makes it easier in a way. . . Imber fell thoughtful again. " 'Ow's that, sir?If I m'y ask?" "This way." said Amber: 'Bofoi le died, Mr. Rutton asked me to c llm a service. I agreed. He su jested that I take you with me." "I'm ready, sir." Interrupted Do; cott eagerly. "There's no gentlema 'd like to valet for better than you lelf." "But there will be dangers, Doi ;ott?I don't know precisely wha That's the rub: we'll have to trav< lalf-way round the worhl and face ui mown perils. If Mr tutton wet ight about it. we'l' j lucky to gt way with our lives." "I'll go, sir; it was 'is wish. I' :o with you to India. Mr. Amber." "Very well. . . ." Amber spok bs'ractedly, reviewing his plan; But," he enquired suddenly, "I didn lent ion India. How did you know?1 "Why?I suppose I must 'av uessed it, sir. It seemed bo likel; nowing what I do about Mr. Rutton, Amber sat silent, unable to brtn lmsolf to put a single question in r< ard to the dead man's antecedent! lut after a pause the servant coutii ed voluntarily. "He always 'ad a deal to do wit ersons who camo from India?nil ers?I mean, natives. It didn't muc latter where we'd bo?London c 'aris or Berlin or Rome?they'd 'ur m up; some 'e'd give money to an tiey'd go aw'y; others 'e'd be locke p with in 'is study for hours, tuikini alking. They'd 'ardly ever come th nme one twice. 'E 'ated 'em all, M Lv;tton did. And yet. sir, I alway id a suspicion?" Doggott hesitated. Inwered his voici is gaze shifting uneasily to the stll hrouded figure in the corner. "What?" demanded Amber tensel; "I alw'ys thought pe/'aps 'e we That wo call in England a man < olor, 'lmself, sir." "Doggott!" "I don't mean no 'arm, sir; It we ust their 'minding him. like, and 'I eing a dark-comDlecteil man th yrue as them, and speakln' their lai tiage so ready, that made me thin . . ? Httl 5* ' CO! > 8< ?nc tutton. The servant stared, VTslbly li rested. "Very Rood. Mr. Amber. 1' emember. sir. I don't ordinarily go ip, sir; but you and him being s hick, and everything 'appenlng t light so 'orrlble, I forgot myself, ipe you'll excuse n e, sir." "God in heaven!" cried the your aan hoarsely. can't be true!" H lung himself li.*o his chair, buryir Is face In hh; hands. "It can't!" Yet irresistibly the conviction wi elng forced upon him that Doggo ad surmised aright. Circumstance mcked M> circumstance within h nowle^fce of or his experience wit I10 man, all seeming to prove inco estably the truth of what at the fir lush had seemed so Incredible. Whi Id he, Amber, know of Rutton's pa ntage or history that would refui ho calm belief of the body-servai if the dead man? And then Amber's Intelligence w? mitttn by a thought na by a clul nd he began to tremble violently, u ontrollably, being weakened by f Igue and the strain of that tndles errlble night. A strangled cry e aped him without his knowledg* Sophia!" Sophia Farrell, the woman he hf iromlsed to wed, nay even the worn? to loved with all his being?a hnl >rcod, a mulatto! His mind sicken* vlth the horror of that thought. His very soul seemed to shudd< ind his reason cried out that tl hlng could never be. . . . Yet 1 tls heart of hearts still he loved he itill desired her with all his strengl ind will; In his heart there was r vaverlng Whatever button had bee vhatever his daughter might be, 1 oved lu-r. And more, the honor < he Ambers was In pledge, holdlr dm steadfast to his purpose to set jer out In India or wherever si night be and to bear her away fro he unnamed danger that threaten* ler?even to marry lier, if she won! lave him. He had promised; his woi ind passed; there could now be t vlthdrawal. . . . An hour elapsed, Its passing rn iously emphasized by the tin cloc Vmber remained at the table, his hefl ipuu 11, inn iace maaen ny his artn '<> still that Doggott would hat lioiight him sleeping but for his u ven breathing. At length tho young man callc 1 ADVANTAGE if great excitement, saying that n 11 le deal he was putting through mac !f>0 necessary at once, and would iave him a little trouble by cashing heck for tho sum. Mo always seerm o havo plenty of money, so I gai llm the cash and took his check, lid not see him again soon, and on n leposlting tho check it came ba< marked 'No funds.' I looked up h bank, and found ho did have a d posit thoro at one time. I deposits ^ uuggou disappeared to prepare a I meal, but within five minutes a gunshot sounded startlingly near at hand. The Virginian's appearance at the door was coincident with a clear hail re of "Aho-oy, Amber!"?unmistakably lo Quain's voice, raised at a distance of 8" not over 200 yards. Amber's answering cry quavered 5* with joy. And with a bear-like rush Quain topped the nearest dune, r" dropped down into the hollow, and was upon him. 5" "I3y the Ix>rd Harry!" he cried, alt most embracing Amber in his excitement and relief; "I'd almost given Q* you up for good and all!" e "And 1 you." said Amber, watching curiously and somewhat distrustfully a second man follow Quain into the II vale. "Who's that?" ho demanded. "Only Antone. We've him to thank. ? Ho remembered this old camp here? f- I'd completely forgotten it?and was * sure you'd taken refuge in it. Come inBlde." He dragged Amber in, the ? Portuguese following. "Let's have a look at you by the light. Lord! you seem to be pretty comfortable?and g ! I've been worrying myself sick fo> s- ! fear you?" He swept the room with b. an approving glance which passed l- over Doggott and became transfixed as it rested upon the hammock-bed h with its burden; and his jaw fell. 5- "What's this? What's this?" He h swung upon Amber, appraising with ir relentless eyes the havoc his night s it j experience had wrought upon the d I man. "You look like hell!" he exd I ploded. "What's up here? Eh?" r, Amber turned to Doggott. "Take e Antone out there with you and keep r. him until 1 call, please. This is Mr. s j Quain; l want to talk w ith him un* II HE *;l ' * f yi % ?! ^ is The Signature Was tt >g disturbed. . . . But you can bring i8 ! us coffee when It's ready." :h i Qualn motioned to Antone; the n- Portuguese disappeared into the back st ! room with Doggott, who closed the at communicating door. r_ "You first," said Amber. "If you've te fretted about me, I've been crazyit about ou?what time I've had to | think-" is ' Qualn deferred to his insistence. >; j "It was simple enough?and damned ^ -d " ?vi?lninorl " I ottnahf ihn ]]. j UtiiU, lie: CA^iuuiru. * a. Echo by the skin of my teeth, the s> Bklmmy almost sinking under me. She 8! was linrd nnd fast aground, but I man s: aged to get the motor going and backed her off. As soon as that was ail l(j right we got a wave aboard that m soused the motor?like a fool I'd left If the hatch ofT?and short-circuited the sd coll. After that there was hell to pay. I worked for half an hour reefer ing, and meanwhile we went aground ie again. The oar broke and I had to In g<> overboard and get wet to my waist r, 1 before I got her ofT. liy that time it :h was blowing great guns and dead 10 j from the bench. 1 had to stand off n, ' and make for the mainland?nothing -,e els- to do We beached about a mile of below the lighthouse and I bad tho ig , four-mile tramp home. Then after I'd ik thawed out and had a drink nnd a ie change of clothes, we had to wait two m hours for the sea to go down enough >d to make a crossing in the launch Id practicable. That's all for mlno. Now d you? What's that there?" 10 ; "A suicide; a friend of mine?the i man Rutton whom we were discussu. ing the night I came down. And that's k not half. There's a man out there [(j somewhere, shot to death by Rutton? B a Hengali babu. . . . Quain, I'v* ,e lived in Purgatory ever since we partis cd and now . . . I'm about done." Ho was; the coming of Quain with >d the ease of mind It brought hail tho check again nnd again It was re' turned. A week later I tried again, jt. with tho samo result. Moro for 1b amusement than anything else, I sent I ; the chock to tho bank for the fourth a time, and this time It went through! ?d "Soon after that our friend aills me ire up on the telephone, and In the mn?t I outraged tono of voice asks what I \y mean by taking ndvantago of him that :k way. He could not have been more Is Indignant hnd I double-crossed hirn In e- a straight deal. And that explains >d why hu no longer speaks to mo." / I him and Doggott found bins tiling up, . 'with a haggaid and careworn face. V . but with the Kane light of a man com* posed in his eyes. "Doggott," he aaked In an even, toneleaa voice, "have you ever menI tinned to anybody your suspicion about Mr. Kutton's race?" "Only to you. air." "That's good. And you won't?" "No, air." "Havo you," continued Amber, look* lng away and speaking slowly, "ever heard him mention bis marriage?" "Never, sir. 'E says In that paper *e was a widower; I fancy the lady e* must have died before I entered 'ia - service. 'K was always a lonely man, lo' all the 15 year I've been with 'im, keepln' very much to "linself, sir." 4_1 " snapped' Cbe' Xorvcur umilon which had sustained Amber. HGb was now on the edge of cooaps# sod i showed It plainly. But two otrcum stances aided him to recover his flip upon himself: Qualn's companionate consideration in forbearing to press his story from him, and Doggott's opportune appearance with a pot of coffee, steaming and black. Two cups of this restored Amber to a condition somewhat approaching the normal. He lit a cigarette and began to talk. For all his affection for and con| fldence in his frier:d, there were 1 things he might not tell Quainwhere* fore be couched his narrative in the i fowest possible words and was miserly of detail. Of the coming of the babu and his going Amber was fairly free to speak; he suppressed little If | any of that episode. Moreover, he ; had forgotten to remove the Token from his finger, and Quain tnstantly | remarked it and demanded an explar nation. But of the nature of the errand on which he was to go, Amber said nothing: it was, he averred. Rutj ton's privato business. Nor did he j touch upon the question of Rutton's nationality. Sophia Farrell he never mentioned. Nevertheless, he said enough to render Qnaln thoughtful. "You've set on this thing, I suppose?" he esked some tlmo after Amber had coucluded. "Set upon it. dear man? I've no choice. I ;nu3t go?1 promised." Quain went t$ the hamwockbed, turned back the sheet, and for several minutes lingered there, scrutinizing the stony, upturned face. "So!" he said, coming back. "Here's nowi that'll help you some. You were blind not to see it yourself. That man's?was, I should say?a it'ijput." He watted tor the comment which did not come. "You knew it?" "I . . . suspected, tonight" "It's as plain as print; the mark of his caste is all over him. But perhaps he was able to disguise it a little with his manner?alive; undoubtedly, I'd say. He was a genius of his kind ?a prodigy; a mental giant.. That translation of the 'Tantras'?! Wonderful! . . .* Well, he's gone his own way: God be with hlin. . . . When do you want to start?" "As soon as possible?sooner. I've not a day to lose?not an hour." "Urgent as that, eh?" Quain V ' * ' ffl"'' Unmistakably Genuine. peered keenly into his face. "I wish I knew what you know. I wish to heaven I might go with you. But I'm married now?and respectable. The morning train leaves Xokomis at 7:30 You can make that, if you must. Ilut you need sleep?rest." "I'll got that on the train." " 'Knew you'd say that. Very welL This is Tuesday. The Mauretania? or the Lusitania, I don t know which ?sails tomorrow. You can catch that, too. It's the Quickest route, eastwards?" "Hut I've decided to go west." "That means a week more, and you said you were in a hurry." "1 atn; but by going westwards it's barely possible I may bo able to transact or wind up the business on the way." As a matter of fact Amber was hoping the Rolands, with Sophia Farrell, | might linger somewhere en route, reuu inhering that the girl had discussed a tentative project to stop over between steamers of Yokohama. "Very well," Quain gave in; "you're the doctor. Now as for things hero, make your mind easy. I'll take charge and keep the affair quiet. There's no reason I can see for its ever getting out. I can answer for myself and jVntone; and the two of i us can wind things up. Oct ready now to trot along, and I'll take care of everything." "Thore'a no way of thanking you." "That's a comfort. Call Doggott now I and tell him to get ready. You j haven't much time *.o lose." While they waited for the servant j to pack hla hand haj?It being cbvl! oils that to tnko tUo trunks with them was not feasible: while Qualn j was to caro for Amber's things at Tanglewood until his return from India?Qualn wag possessed by an Idea Let the Fairies Afonel Another good but misguided woman has undertaken a campaign for the abolition of "Mother Goose," "Allco In Wonderland" and fairy sto rles of all kinds. She declares thai these stories are lies and Ovight nol to be tolerated. In her opinic-n Moth er Goose Is worse than a witch, and as for Lewis Carroll?well, this "Mr* Gradgrind," of Huston, would havo hire hanged on the highest hill. An, bul It would be a sad old world If all thg ? ----- ' 1 ' I in ? which be VII pUl r.vi to C*lTl?t?9 Mi l inspiration. "It's this,1' ha e^rnlMd: "What do you know about Calcutta t" "Little vr nothing. !' ? Wan thare ?that's about all." "Precisely. Now I know ths place, and I know you'll never find this goldsmith in tba Machua baser without a guide. The ordinary, common**garden guide la out of the question, oi courses But I happen to know an Englishman there who known more about the dark aide of India than any other tan man in the world. Hell be invaluable to you. and you can trust hlaa aa you would Doggott. Go to him t? toy nam*?you'll need no other la* -oduction?and tell him what you're told me." "That's impossible. Rutton expressly prohibited my mentioning his name to any one Sn India." "Ob, very well. Tou haven't, have you? And ydu won't have to. Ill S" mm "Hang Your Promise." take care of that, when I write and tell Labertouche you're coming." ' What name?" "I^abertouche. Why? You don't know him." "No: but Rutton did. Rutton got that poiBon from him." Quain whistled, his eyes round. "Did. eh? So much the better; he'll probably know all about Rutton and'll take a keener interest." "But you forget?" "Hang your promise. I'm not bound by it and this is business?blacker business than you seem to realise, Davy. You're bent on Jumping blindfold and wltn your hands tied into the seething pool of infamy and intrigue that is India. And I won't stand for it. Don't think for an Instant that I'm going to let you go without doing everything I can to make thtnga as pleasant as possible for you. . . . No; Labertouche Is your man." And to this Qualn held Inflexibly; so that. In the end. Amber, unable to move him, was obliged to leave the matter In his hands. A sullen and portentous dawn hung In the sky when the little party left i the cabin. Between two sand hills the Bengali lay supine, a huddled heap of garlrh color?scarlet, yellow, tan?against the cold bluish-gray of snow. At a word from Qualn the Portu' tuuiiu?ueuveu kLiuwb wnete. "Right-O!" agreed Qualn. His hand sought Amber's. "Goodby, and God be with you," he said huskily. Amber tightened his clasp upon the man's fingers. "I can't Improve on that, Tony," said ho with a feeble "Goodby, and God be with you." He dropped his hand and turned away. "Come along. Doggott." The servant led the way baywards. Behind them the angry morning blazed brighter in the sky. In the sedge of the ahore they found a rowboat and, launching it, , embarked for the power boat, which swung at her mooring in deeper water. When they were aboard the latter, Doggott took charge of the motor, leaving to Amber the wheel, and with little delay they were in motion. As their distance from the shore Increased Amber glanced back. The ! >sland rested low ugalnst the flamlDg sky, a shape of empurpled shadows, scarcely more substantial to the visIon than the rack of cloud above. In the dark sedges tho pools, here and ther*? r-nuchf thft tli?ViL frnm aK~?v?* -and shone blood-red. And suddenly the attention of tho Virginian was arrested by tho discovery of a human figure?a man star.dlng upon a dunetop some distance Inland, and staring Fteadfastly after tho boat. He seemed of extraordinary height and very thin; upon his head there was a turban; his arms were folded. While Amber watched he held his pose, a living menace?like some fantastic statue bulking black against the grim red dawn (TO HE CONTINUED.) Fencea Ward Off Rabbits. Owing to the- Increase of rabbits la certain parts of Australia a movement has been started in the Armldale district to construct a barrier fence along the eastern side of Central New England. This will serve to ward off the rodents, which now abound In the rough country along the edge of ths tableland. Th;se rabbits are beginning to crowd westwards, and are al | ready making their presence felt on the adjoining country. The suggestion Is to link up the rabbit-proof fences which already exist along the edge of the more settled area from Walcha to Glen Innes districts, and thus cut off tho rough country where the rabbits are thick, and where there la no chance of keeping them under. If all the dear delightful tales that have to do wi^a fairies and imps and ' elves and hamadryads were to be destroyed. The world is snd enough as It Is, but it would be infinitely sadder : and dreader if children did not be : lleve In Fairy Fine-Ear and mothers and fathers did not yield allegiance to I the Dame o' Dreams. Rochester Post Express. t Hair Indicates Strength, i \ Short, thick, curly hair Is an indict ask thla question by an arousal of con* j I science from lethargy that at one time I seemed to be as binding as prison I chains. In this reawakening the I church has played a most. important I part, but its appeals have been secI ouded by moralists and even by statesI men. Today the question, "What la right?" is asked not only in personal morals, but in the larger affairs of I life, and to the extent that there is greater effort for higher standards of morality and nf rfllglnim nrue tlcea. The question is an old one. It has been asked by mail since first he knew there was right which might be distinguished from wrong. It has been i discussed In all its phases, and St. Paul in his letter to the Phlllpplans exhorts them in the wordB of our text. He tells them that right is "what is true, what is honest, what is just, what is pure and lovely and of good report." His exhortation is as pertinent today, as then, and bis definition aB complete. Let us first consider men, not things. A great many men are true so far as their standards permit them to be. There are others who seek constant elevation of standards so that they may be nearer the ideal true man. To be a true man means to be truthful in thought, in speech, in act, to be devoid i of dissimilation, to be right and to be Just what you seem to be; to be loyal i to all that is good and devoted to the j furtherance of good. Such a man invariably answers the question "What ; is right?" correctly, and his answer has the respect of his fellow men. A great many men are honest so far as the demands of relationship with other men may go. and few go beyond this point and are honest with themselves as well as with their fellows. In their transactions they have 1 no doubts, no regrets, no sufferings of conscience. They make every transaction a closed transaction in ! every sense of the word. They are right. Such men are the examples of honesty that should be emulated. Men are just in the measure that they mete to their fellow men; and some of them are Just to the extent that they heap the measure to overflowing. They neither weigh to the ounce, nor exact their pound of flesh no ry.\ A Ok?U?l. JU ?? UIU ou/iuvn uiu. 11 auyming, tuey | are Ju6t to the point of ?*?n*?? ??? * I ha sc.. ..1 a . -i ai. * ! !: v. i.om tit* . ec - t in 1 -t n . n vr - = says that "If there is any virtue in these thiugs, if there be any praise" thinking of them will bring them into their lives and cause them to be grateful for the good they receive. Men who think honestly, men who try to be ; conscientious gain for themselves all the good that can be derived from I right thought and pure thinking. And that good is ability to think straight, and answer correctly the question, i "What is right?" Of course there is no absolute right, j Men do not think alike. They have not the same standards, nor the same ' conceptions, and yet they have one standard of right and their conception of that standard will always grow better and better the more they study itThat standard was set by Christ. Paul studied it, and his wonderful growth ] in spirituality enabled him to tell the Phllippians what they should think about, for he knew that the man who was true, honest. Just and pure, the man who regarded things that were elevating and of good report, would bej come the man who would be able sooner or later to answer more exactly the question, "What is rights Vou can follow Paul's prescrlDtlon. especially If you ask for that guidance which has been promised you by that greatest exemplar of right. Woman's Rights. During these days we hear a great deal of women's rights which are really women's wrongs. I know not whether women will ever get what they term equality with men. Man | and woman are equal in the sight of Ood, but here below woman occupies a different station. She was created to be man's helpmate and to supplement what lie lacked. She was to be kind and gentle under long suffering. ?Bishop J. J. Nilan, Roman Catholic Hartford, Conn. All human culture rests on a willngness to make sacrifices to th? I had ulna one bottle I vai tlftc in ' ^ ay wort l?i vecenuasand i ^ her canstttaMlfc^^ ' t*' I and bacluiclin, mr^f-''; turns of her wowH^Weekswwn. Tim proper treatment, the woman's tonic. )H^nH|K' cine, or tonic, has exaoUk&|g^nij||? results as CardoL No Othe$*S|?h\ record of so many years of use in cases of womanly ailments.^ ^ If Mrs. Oarrett had taken Oaln E: annner *he mlcht have Ttiiiin SIIS'?T 1 the lone sickness and modi suffering. A few doses of Cardul at the right time will often sare serious rafieriif and prevent a long sickness. Dmt delay. Begin to take Cardial at ones. IT. B*?Writ* toi I*?i# aSil?S Dc*t, CbaKaaMga SetletM Oe, Clwl taiMca, Tna, tor t*?rt*l iMtnw* (ioMt aai SI sags baak, *Bmm Taan* MMt for Wanes," newt la flats naaaw* par, on tnnaat FAILED TO WIN. a $20,000 prise story." "And did he get the $20,000?" "No. The girl wrote and told him she had accepted his rival." Too Lata ? Ch?nm? " \ man can no trior*. change hts ep~ atlon fi bo can changp his lace I an is," said Sens tor Ijl Triflstte ' lit a L?au-iuot in Madison. t Tlic:e a'.'j, once a wloJrCf' old Hanlf .on -n'Hicnalre who took hi* pa->tur .aide nT,?t e:\itl; V I'H'.S ? uiumuci UL nij me to doing good.' "Dr. Thirdly, outspoken man, retorted: " "Do yon mean John H. Good, the wealthy farmer ,or young Sam Good, the Socialist millionaire?*" They're AH About Tailor*. "All criticism," said Professor Brander Matthews in one of hi* brilliant Columbia lectures, "Is, to a certain extent, personal and biased." He paused and smiled. "The Tailor and Cutter, a weekly paper," he resumed, "said in a recent leading article: " 'Carlyle's "Sartor Resartus," Meredith's "Evan Harrington" and Kingsley's "Alton Locke" will be great classics when the ephemeral novels of today will have long since perished.' " Would Arrest Him Anyway. Sergeant?'Alt! Take Murphy's name for talkin' in the ranks. Corporal?W'y, sergeant, 'e weren't talkin*. Sergeant?Wasn't he? Welt, cross it out an' put *im In the guardroom for uctcivm me.? lBuer. Overlooked. Knicker?We can't carry revolver* any longer. Booker?But they didn't take away the girls' hatpins. 8H1FT If Your Food Fails to 8ustale Yom, Change. _ One sort of diet may make a person -* despondent, depressed and blue and a change tc the kind of food the body demands will change the whole thing. | A young woman from Phlla. says: "For several years I kept in a rundown, miserable sort of condition, was depressed and apprehensive of trouble. I lost flesh in a distressing way and seemed in a perpetual sort of dreamy nightmare. No one serious disease showed, but the 'all-over' sickness waa enough. "Finally, between the doctor and far ther, I was put on Qrape-Nuts and cream, as it was decided I must have a nourishing food that the body coeld make use of. "The wonderful change that <"?" * over me waa not, like Jonah's gourd. tKa srrnnrt V? r\# ? -? ? * ?*- A i uo 51 vT*tu v/i a omftiw UI dill, JW ll> came with a rapidity that astonish** me. "During the first week I gained in weight, my spirits improved, and tlwe world began to look brighter and mors worth while. "And this has cont!n*ipd steadily, till now, after the use of or.pe-Nuts tor i only a few weeks, I ar > perfectly well, feel splendidly, take a lively interest In everything, and am s changed person In every way." Name given by Postnm Co., Battle Creek, Mich. Read the little book, "The Road to Wellvllle," In pkga. "There's a reason." brer read thr abm Mlrrl a mw one npyearo from time ? time. Tfcey mr+ HQ #T