text: BRON Bdll £^LOUI<§ JOSEPH VANCE AUTHOR OF “THE BRASS BOWL” ETC. OQJLcysinBATJDcim by m&sr KU+’YfVQ't/T OY LOU/3 </D3LAH VAJYCS SYNOPSIS. * David Amber, starting for a duck-shooting visit with his friend, Qualn, comes up on a young lady equestrian who has been dismounted by her horse becoming frightened at the sudden appearance in the road of a burly Hindu. He declares he is Behar! Lai Chatterjl, “The appointed mouthpiece of the Bell,” addresses Amber as a man of high rank and pressing a mysterious little bronze box. “The Token.” Into his hand, disappears in the wood. The girl calls Amber by name. He in turn addresses her as Miss Sophie Harrell, daughter of Col. Farrell of the British diplomatic service in India and visiting the Quoins. Several nights later the Qualn home is burglarized and the bronze box stolen. Amber and Qualn go hunting on an Island and become lost and Amber is left marooned. He wanders about, Anally reaches a cabin and recognizes as its occupant an old friend named Rutton, whom he last met in England, and who appears to be in hiding. When Miss Farrell is mentioned Rutton is strangely agitated. Chatterjl appears and summons Rutton to a meeting of a mysterious body. Rutton seizes a revolver and dashes after Chatterjl. He recently excited, says he has killed Hindu, takes poison, and when dying, asks Amber to go to India on a mysterious errand. Amber decides to leave at once for India. On the way, he sends a letter to Mr. Labertouche, a scientific friend in Calcutta, by a quicker route. From arriving, he Anas a note awaiting him. It directs Amber to meet his friend at a certain place. The latter tells him he knows his mission is to get Miss Farrell out of the country. Amber attempts to dispose of the Token to a money-lender. Is mistaken for Button and barely escapes being mobbed. A message from Barbours causes him to start for Darjeeling; on the way he meets Miss Farrell, and at their journey's end asks for to become his wife. A Hindu conducts Amber toy a secret place. CHAPTER XIV. (Continued) "Well, then, what do you want? Why have you brought me here?" "Why didst thou come? There was no force used: thou didst come of thine own will—thine own will, which is the will of the Body, hazoor!" "Oh, damnation! Why d’you insist on beating round the bush forever? You know well why I came. Now, what do you want?" "My lord, I move, It seems, In the ways of error. A little time ago the words of the Voice were made known to thee In a far land; thou didst answer, coming to this country. A few days ago I myself did repeat to you the message of the Bell; thou didst wear thou wouldst not answer, yet art thou here In Kuttarpur. Am I to be blamed for taking this for a sign of thy repentance?... Hazoor, the Body is patient, the Will benevolent and long-suffering. Still Is the Gateway open." "Is that what you wanted to tell me, Sallgh Singh?" "What else? Am I to believe thee a madman, weary of life, that thou shouldst venture hither with a heart hardened against the Will of the Body? I seek but to serve thee in thus daring thy displeasure. Why shouldst thou come to Bharuta at all? Thou dost not intend to undergo the Ordeal of the Gateway? Am I a fool or—I say It In all respect, my lord— art thou?" "From the look of things, I The epithet fits us both Salig Singh. You refuse to take my word for it that now nothing of your infamous Gateway and have no intention of ever approaching it, that I have not a drop of Indian blood in me and am in no way related to or connected with Harlay Rutton, who is dead—” "I may not believe what I know to be untrue.” "You’ll have to learn to recognize the truth, I’m afraid. For the final time I tell you that I am David Amber, a citizen of the United States of America, traveling in India on purely personal business.” The Rajput inclined his head submissively. “Then is my duty all but done, bazoor. Thrice hath the warning been given thee. There be still four-and-twenty hours in which, it may be, thou shalt learn to see clearly. My lord, I ask of thee a single favor. Will thou follow me?” He motioned toward the arched entrance to the passageway. "Follow thee?" Amber at length dropped into Urdu, unconsciously adopting the easier form of communication now that he felt, the issue between them was plain, that the Rajput labored under no further misunderstanding as to the reason of his presence in Khandawar. “Whither?” “There is that which I must show thee.” “What?” “My life be forfeit if thou dost not return unharmed to the resthouse ere sunrise. Wilt thou come?” “To what end, Salig Singh?” “Furthermore,” the Rajput persisted stubbornly, his head lifted in pride and his nostrils dilated a little with scorn—"furthermore I offer thee the word of a Rajput. Thou art my guest, since thou wilt have it so. No harm shall come to thee, upon my honor.” Curiosity triumphed. Amber knew that he had exacted the most honored pledge known in Rajputana. His apprehensions were at rest; nothing could touch him now—until he had determined to the bungalow. Then, he divined, it was to be open war—himself and Labertouche pitted against the strength of the greatest conspiracy known in India since the days of '67. (But for the present, no pledge of any sort had been exacted of him. “So be it,” he assented on impulse. With no other word, Salig Singh Turned and strode down the corridor. CHAPTER XV. From a High Place. The passageway was long, and dark and given to sudden curves and angles, penetrating, it seemed, the very bowels of the Raj Mahal. It ended unexpectedly in a low arch through which the two men passed into an open courtyard, apparently given over entirely to stables. Despite the late ness of the hour it was tenanted by several wide-awake syces, dancing attendance upon a pair of blooded stallions of the stud royal, who saddled, bridled and hooded, pawed and champed impatiently in the center of the yard, making it echo with the ringing of iron on stone and the jangling of their silver curb-chains. Sallg Singh paused, with a wave of his hand calling Amber’s attention to the superb brutes. “Thou canst see, hazoor, that all is prepared!" “For what?” But Sallg Singh merely smiled energetically, and shaking a patient head, passed on. A second arch gave upon a corridor which led upwards and presently changed into a steep flight of steps, of ancient stone worn smooth and grooved with the traffic of generations of naked feet. At the top they turned aside and passed through a heavy door which Sallg Singh unlocked with a private key, into a vast, vacant room, with a lofty ceiling supported by huge, unwieldy pillars of stone, sculptured with all the loves and wars of Hindu mythology. At one end the fitful, eerie flare of a great bronze brazier revealed the huge proportions of an ivory throne, gorgeous with gems and cloth of gold, standing upon a dais and flanked by two motionless figures which at first sight Amber took to be pieces of statuary. But they quickened, saluting with a single movement and a flash of steel, as the Maharana drew nearer, and so proved themselves troopers of the state, standing guard with naked swords. “There is no need, perhaps, to tell thee, hazoor,” Sallg Singh muttered, bending to Amber’s ear, “that sitting upon this throne, in this Hall of Audience, for generations thy forefathers ruled this land, making and administering its laws, meting out justice, honored of all men—and served, my lord, for generations by my forebears, the faithful stewards of thy house; even as I would prove faithful.” “Interesting,” Amber interrupted, brusquely, “If true. Is this what you wanted to show me?” “Nay, hazoor, not this alone. Come.” The rajput led him out of the hall by way of a small doorway behind the throne, and after a little turning and twisting through tortuous passages they began to ascend again, and so went on up, ever upwards, the flight of steps broken by other corridors, other apartments, other galleries and gardens, until at length they emerged into a garden laid out in the very topmost court of all—the loftiest spot in all Kuttarpur. It was a very beautiful garden, a jungle of exotic plants and shrubs threaded by narrow walks that led to secluded nooks and unsuspected pleasances, and lighted by low-swung festoons of dim lamps, many-colored. “My lord,” said the maharana, passing, “if thou wilt wait here for a little, permitting me to excuse myself—?” “All right,” Amber told him tolerantly. "Run along." Sallg Singh quietly effaced himself, and the American watched him go with an inward chuckle. "I presume I’ll have to pay for my impudence in the end,” he thought: “but it's costing Sallg Singh a good deal to hold him self in.” He moved away from the cistern, Idling down a path in a direction opposite that taken by Sallg Singh. An abrupt turn brought him to the outer wall, and he stopped to gaze, leaning upon the low marble balustrade. Amber turned away to rejoin Sallg Singh by the cistern. But the rajput was not there; and, presently, another path tempting him to unlawful exploitation, he yielded and sauntered aimlessly away. A sudden corner cloaked with foliage brought him to a little open space, a patch of lawn over which a canopy had been raised. Beneath this, a woman sat alone. He halted, thunderstruck. Simultaneously, with a soft swish of draperies, a clash of jeweled bracelets, dull and musical, and a flash of coruscating color, the woman stood before him, young, slender, graceful, garbed in indescribable splendor—and veiled. For the space of three long breaths the Virginian hesitated, unspeakably amazed. Though she were veiled, it were deep dishonor for a woman of a rajput’s household to be seen by a stranger. It seemed inexplicable that Sallg Singh should have unwittingly left him in any place where he might encounter an inmate of the zenana. Yet the maharana must have known... Amber made an irresolute movement, as if to go. But it was too late. With a murmur, inaudible, and a swift, infinitely alluring gesture, the woman swept the veil away from her face, and looked him squarely in the eyes. She moved toward him slowly, swaying, as graceful as a fawn, more beautiful than any woman he had ever known. His breath Caught in his throat, for sheer wonder at this incomparable loveliness. Before he could collect his wits, she had made him captive—had without warning cast herself upon her knees before him and imprisoned both his hands, burying her face in their palms. He felt her lips hot upon his flesh, and then—wonder of wonders!—tears from those divine eyes streaming through his fingers. The shock of it brought him to his senses. Pitiful, dumfounded, horrified, he glared wildly about him, seeking some avenue of escape. There was no one watching; he thanked heaven for that, while the cold sweat started out upon his forehead. But still at his feet the woman rocked, softly sobbing, her fair shoulders gently agitated, and still she defied his gentle efforts to free his hands, holding them in a grasp he might not break without hurting her. He found his tongue eventually. "Don't!" he pleaded, desperately. "My dear, you mustn't! For pity's sake don't sob like that! What under the sun's the trouble? Don't please!... Good Lord! what am I to do with this lovely lunatic?" Though in time the fiercest paroxysm of her passion passed and her sobs diminished in violence, she clung heavily to him and made no resistance when he lifted her in his arms. The error was fatal; he had designed to get her on her feet and then stand away. But no sooner had he raised her and succeeded in disengaging his hands, than soft, round arms were clasped tightly about his neck and her face—if possible, more ravishing in tears than when first he had seen it. pillowed on his breast. And for the first time she spoke coherently. "Ale!” she walled, tremulously. "Ale! Now is the cup of my happiness full to brimming, now that thou hast returned to me at last, O my dear, from the north, hail—the maiden who had grown to womanhood ere thy return from thy travels to take up thy father's crown? Ale! Thou canst never forget, beloved; though years and the multitude of faces have come between us as a veil, thou dost remember—even as thou didst remember when the message of the Bell came to thee across the great black waters, and thou didst learn that the day of thy exile were numbered, that the hour approached when again thou shouldst sit in the place of thy fathers and rule the world as once they ruled it." A denial stuck in Amber's throat. The words would not come, nor would they, he believed, have served his purpose could he have commanded them. If he had found no argument whereby to persuade Salig Singh, he found none wherewith to refute the claim of this golden-faced woman who recognized him for her husband. He was wholly dismayed and aghast. But while he lingered in indecision, staring in the woman’s face, her look of petulance was replaced by one of divine forgiveness and compassion. And she gave him no time to think or to avoid her; in a twinkling she had thrown herself upon him again, was in his arms and crushing her lips upon his. “Nay,” she murmured, "but I did wrong thee, beloved! Perchance,” she told him, archly, “thou didst not think to see me so soon, or in this garden? Perchance surprise hath robbed thee of thy wits—and thy tongue as well, O wordless one? Or thou art overcome with joy, as I am overcome, and smitten dumb by it, as I am not? Ah, Lalil! was ever a woman at loss for words to voice her happiness?” And nestling to him she laughed quietly, with a note as tender and sweet as the cooing of a wood-dove to its mate. “Nay, but there is a mistake.” He recovered the power of speech tardily, and would have put her from him; but she held tight to him. “I am not thy husband, nor yet a rajput. I come from America, the far land where thy lord is.” The Scarlet Lips Curled and the Eyes Grew Cold and Hard. “Well-nigh had I ceased to hope for thee, O beloved; well-nigh had this heart of mine grown cold within my bosom, that had no nourishment save hope, save hope! Day and night I have watched for thy coming for many years, praying that thou shouldst return to me ere this frail pretense of mine, that made thee love me long ago, so fade that thy heart should turn to other women.” O my husband!” “Husband! Great heavens! Look here, my dear, hadn’t you better come to your senses and let me go before—” "Let thee go, Lalil, ere what? Ere any come to disturb us? Nay, but who should come between husband and wife in the first hour of their reunion after many years of separation? Is it not known—does not all know how I have waited for thee, almost thy widow ere thy wife, all this weary time?... Or is it that thy heart hath forgotten thy child bride? Am I scorned, O my lord—I, Naralnl? Is there no love in thy bosom to leap in response to the love of thee that is my life?” She released him and whirled a pace or two away, draperies swirling, jewels scintillating cold fire in hopeless emulation of the radiance of her tear-gemmed eyes. “Naralnl?" stammered Amber, recalling what he had heard of the woman. "Naralnl!" “Aye, my lord, thy wedded wife!” The rounded little chin went up a trifle and her eyes gleamed angrily. “Am I no longer thy Naralai, then? Or, wouldst thou deny that thou art Har Dyal, my king and my beloved? Hast thou indeed forgotten the child that was given thee for wife when thy father reigned in Khandawar, and thou wert but a boy—a boy of ten, the Maharaj Har Dyal? Hast thou forgotten the little maid they brought thee husband died... Nay, it doth pain me to hurt thee so, Ranee, but the mistake is not of my making, and it hath been carried too far. Thy husband died in my presence—” "It is so, then!" she cut him short and his arms were suddenly empty, to his huge relief. “Indeed, they had warned me that thou wouldst tell this story and deny me—why, I know not, unless it be that thou art unworthy of thy lineage, a coward and a weakling!” Her small foot stamped angrily and on every limb of her round body bracelets and anklets clashed and shimmered. "And so thou hast returned only to forswear me and thy kingdom, O thou of little spirit!" The scarlet lips curled and the eyes grew cold and hard with contempt. “If that be so, tell me, why hast thou returned at all? To die? For that thou must surely come to, if it be in thy mind to defy the behests of the Voice, thou king without a kingdom!” Why, then, art thou here, rather than running to hide in some far place, thinking to escape with thy worthless life—worthless even to thee, who art too craven to make a man's use of it—from the Vengeance of the Hody? Dost think I am to be tricked and hoodwinked—I, in whose heart thine image hath been enshrined these many weary years? I neither think, nor know, nor greatly care, Ranee, in whose heart thine image hath been enshrined these many weary years? I neither think, nor know, nor great, care, Ranee, in whose heart thine image hath been enshrined these many weary years. Doubtless I deserve thine anger and scorn, since I am not he who thou wouldst have me be. If death must be my portion for this offense, for that I resemble Har Dyal Rutton... then it is written that I am to die. My business here in Khandawar hath concern neither with thee, nor with the state, nor yet with the Gateway of Swords—of the very name of which I am weary... Now, with his mouth settled in lines of unmistakable resolve, "I will go; nor do I think that there be any here to stop me." He wheeled about, prepared to light his way out of the palace, if need be. Indeed, it was in his mind that a death there were as easy as an hour after sunrise; for he had little doubt but that he was to die if he remained obdurate, and the hospitality of the raj put would cease to protect him the moment he set foot upon the marble bund of his bungalow. But the woman sprang after him and caught his arm. "Of thy pity," she begged. Breathlessly, “hold for a space until I have taken thought.” "Thou knowest that if what thou hast told me be the truth, then am I widow before my time—widowed and doomed!" "Doomed?" "Aye!" And there was real terror in her eyes and voice. "Doomed to sat. For, since I am a widow—since thou dost maintain thou art not my husband—then my face hath been looked upon by a man not of mine own people, and I am dishonored. Fire alone can cleanse me of that defilement—the pyre and the death by flame!" "Good God! you don’t mean that! Surely that custom has perished!" "Thou shouldst know that it dieth not. What to us women in whose bodies runs the blood of royalty, is an edict of your English government? What the Sirkar Itself to us in Khandar?" She laughed bitterly. "I am Rohllla, a daughter of kings; my dishonor may be purged only by flame. Arre! that I should live to meet with such a fate—I, Naratui, to perish in the flower of my beauty... For I am beautiful, am I not?" She dropped the veil which instinctively she had caught across her face, and met his gaze with childish coquetry, lorn though she seemed to be by fear and disappointment. “Thou art assuredly most beautiful, Rance,” Amber told her, with a break In his voice, very compassionate. And he spoke simple truth. “Of thy kind there is none more lovely in the world....” “There was tenderness then in your tone, my lord!” she caught him up quickly. “Is there no mercy in thy heart for me?... Who is this woman across the seas who hath won thy love?... Aye, even that I know—that thou dost love this fair daughter of the English. Didst thou not lose the picture of her that was taken with the magic box of the sa hibs?... Is it for her sake that thou dost deny me, O my husband? Is she more fair than I, are her lips more sweet?” “I am not thy husband,” he declared vehemently, appalled by her reversion to that delusion. "Till this hour I have never seen thee; nor is the sa hib of any concern to thee. Let me go, please.” But she had him fast and he could not have shaken her off but with vio lence. He had been a strong man in deed who had not been melted to ten derness by her beauty and her distress. She lifted her glorious face to him, pleading, insistent, and played upon him with her voice of gold. “Yet a moment gone thou didst tell me I was greatly gifted with beauty. Have I changed in thine eyes, O my king? Canst thou look upon this poor beauty and hear me tell thee of My love—and indeed I am thine, altogether thine, Dalil!—and harden thy heart against me?... What though it be as thou hast said? What though thou art of a truth not of the house of Rutton, nor yet a rajput? Let us say that this is so, however hard it be to credit; even so, am I not reward enough for thy renunciation?” "I know not thy meaning, Ranee, I—” "Come, then, and I will show thee, my king. Come thou with me... Nay, why shouldst thou falter? There is naught for thee to fear—save me.” She tugged at his hand and laughed low, in a voice that sang like smitten glasses. "Come, beloved!" Unwillingly, he humored her. This could not last long.... The woman half led, half dragged him to the northern boundary of the garden, where they entered a little turret bordered out from the walls over an abyss fully three hundred feet in depth. And here, standing upon the verge of the parapet, with naught but a foot-high coping between her and the frightful fall, utterly fearless and unutterably lovely, Naralnl flung out a bare, jeweled arm in an eloquent gesture. (TO BE CONTINUED.) Engineer’s Brave Act. Tom Shaunsey was running a hoisting engine in a Nevada mine, where three hundred men were employed. One day, just after the twelve o’clock shift had gone down into the mine and were well away from the main shaft at work, it was suddenly discovered that the hoisting works were on fire. The building was old and dry, and burned like tinder, and, notwithstanding all efforts to quench it, it burned so fast that it seemed as if the men in the mine were doomed to such a location. The heat in the hoisting works drove out everyone but Tom Shaunsey, who stood by the engine, with the lever in his hand, steadily watching the cable as it ran through the pulleys, with a speed never known before. The men yelled to Tom to come out, but he only replied with a wave of his disengaged hand, until the last cage-load of miners was hauled to the surface. At the same time, part of the roof fell in; but Tom was got out, with his right arm terribly burned and nearly choked. To say that the miners were grateful would be superfluous, and between them and the mining company, the brave engineer was handsomely rewarded. Blame Eggplant and Stork How the People of Constantinople Account for the Frequent Fires in That City. Constantinople is noted for its many and destructive fires, which the fatal Turk regards as something that can’t be helped, but which probably other nations do not accept with equal calmness. It has been remarkable that these conflagrations are most frequent in the months of August and September, and the Turks attribute this increase to the fondness of the inhabitants for eggplant. This is a great dainty in Constantinople, and is usually fried in oil. When it is plenty and cheap, it is prepared in almost every household, and as the kitchens of the poor are primarily, the frying is usually done in pans perched previously on the coals. These are easily upset, the oil catches fire and there is a conflagration all ready. But the present chief of the Fire Department—such as it is—declares that they should not blame the inoffensive egg plant, but should accuse the stork instead. He reasons that the stork builds her nest on the top of a chimney. A spark sets afire the dry branches of which the nest is built; the stork, instead, thinks her neighbor and as the kitchens of the poor are stork has planned the fire, and so takes a blazing stick in her beak to set fire to this neighbor’s nest in revenge. More often, however, the blazing bunch is dropped on a roof, and as at that time of year everything is dry as under, a big fire is burning in a few minutes. How Carlyle Kept Warm. Sir Francis Galton met Carlyle twice. On the first occasion, he says, Carlyle surprised him by his "unexpectedly courteous, even polished manner; but he became more like his ordinary self later on. On the second occasion, he seemed to me the greatest bore that a country house could tolerate." But Carlyle amused him by gravely hopping up and down in order to keep warm. Galton was the only man who ever got Herbert Spencer to the Derby. Spencer said that the crowd of men on the grass looked like flies on a plate and that the Derby was just like what he expected it to be. ITALY'S WAR DECLARATION The Evasive Reply of Turkey Prompted Invader to Act. A VERY INCISIVE DOCUMENT Italy Gives Passports to Turkish Ambassador in Rome and Demands Same for Its Representative in Constantinople. Constantinople.—Following is the text of the declaration which the Italian Charge handed to the Porte: "The Italian Embassy, carrying out the orders of the King, has the honor to notify you that the delay accorded by the Royal Government to the Porte, with a view to the realization of certain necessary measures, has expired without a satisfactory reply reaching the Italian government. The lack of this reply only confirms the bad will, or want of power, of which the Turkish government and authorities have given such frequent proof, especially with regard to the rights and interests of Italians in Tripoli and Cyrenica. "The Royal Government consequently is obliged itself to safeguard its rights and interests, as well as Its honor and dignity, by all means at its disposal. Events which will follow can only be regarded as the necessary consequences of conduct followed so long by the Turkish authorities. "The relations of peace and friendship being therefore interrupted between the countries, Italy considers herself from this moment in a state of war with Turkey. I have therefore the honor to make known to Your Highness that passports will be placed at the disposal of the Charge d’Affaires at Rome, and I beg Your Highness to hand passports to the representative of the Royal Government. "Ottoman subjects may continue to reside in Italy without fear of an attack upon their persons, property or affairs." "No God in Wall Street." Notre Dame President Calls It National Bad Example. Cincinnati.—“Wall Street is our national bad example,” according to the Rev. John Cavanaugh, president of Notre Dame University, who is attending the National Eucharistic Congress here. "Money has been enshrined there,” he continued, “and God banished. These men of Wall Street proceed on the theory that the world is made of beasts of prey and beasts of burden. The money game is a ruthless thing that brutalizes the participants or crushes them.” GIRL DARES; YOUTH SHOOTS. He Didn’t Know Rifle Was Loaded— It Was, and Girl Dies. Lincoln, Mass.—"You don’t dare shoot me, Charlie,” said 16-year-old Marian Stavens, of Millers Falls, when Charles Wetherbee, aged 18, at whose home she was visiting, pulled down his father's hunting rifle from its rack. The boy with a laugh pointed the rifle at her and pulled The trigger. The girl dropped dead with a bullet through her head. The authorities, after an investigation, decided to take no action. ATHLETICS ARE CHAMPIONS. By Defeating the Tigers Have a Clear Title to Pennant. Philadelphia. — American League championship for 1911 was decided here when Philadelphia defeated Detroit by 11 to 5. It was the fourth time a local team piloted by Connie Mack has won the pennant in this organization and the first time Philadelphia has won the title in successive seasons. By repeating this year, Philadelphia earned the right to defend the title of world's champions which it won last year in a series with the Chicago National League club. EUROPE IN DANGER. German Protest at Italy’s Act as "Brigandage." Berlin.—The German newspapers show a tendency to condemn the action of Italy toward Turkey as high-handed. The Frankfurter Zeitung calls it a "public act of brigandage" against which, the paper says, all Europe must protest. The journal blames Italy for bringing the members of the Triple Alliance into embarrassment and danger. WAR IN COPPER TRADE FEARED. Guggenheim Interests, It's Said, Will Fight Rockefeller Group. Philadelphia.—War in the copper trade, it is reported, is on the point of being declared between the powerful Guggenheim and Rockefeller interests. Controlling important low-cost producing properties, such as the Utah Copper and Nevada Consolidated, the Guggenheim party has tired of the experiment of restricting production to enable high-cost producing properties to make a profit. Rejects Commission Plan. Rahway, N. J.—The proposition to establish a commission form of government in this city was defeated by a majority of 88 votes. About a two-thirds vote was polled. Dorothy Campbell!-Time Champion. Ottawa, Ont.—Dorothy Campbell, of Hamilton, won the Canadian golf championship, beating Miss Harvey, of Hamilton, in the finals. Miss Campbell was champion last year and also champion of the United States and Great Britain. BEAUTIFUL CURE FOR SPEPSIA Munyon's Stomach Treatment Performing Miracles. MUNYON TELLS YOU HOW TO GET WELL FREE OF CHARGE “A few days ago I received a letter from a young man, who states he is 28 years of age, and has occupied several important positions, but owing to indigestion and inability to sleep he has been unable to concentrate his mind upon his work and has consequently been discharged on the ground of neglect of duty. He goes on to say that he is a young man of steady habits, but for years he has suffered from dyspepsia, which has so affected his nerves that he is unable to sleep, and that it is not neglect upon his part, nor lack of interest in the business, but simply physical weakness. He asks my advice in this matter. For the benefit of a large number of those similarly situated I propose to answer this letter publicly, hoping that it may be the means of helping many who may be affected in this way. In the first place, the stomach must be made well before the nerves can be made strong. The nerves must be made strong before one can sleep well. No one is capable of doing his best who is in any way troubled with insomnia or any form of nervousness. The greatest generals have been men of iron nerve and indomitable will. They have had perfect digestion, being able to eat well, and digest all they ate. It is said that Napoleon lost the battle of Waterloo because of a fit of indigestion. Grant's enormous reserve power was due to a well-stomach. Abraham Lincoln said that 'he did not know that he had a stomach.' Grover Cleveland, it is said, could work 18 hours a day, eat a hearty meal at 2 or 3 o'clock in the morning, go to bed and sleep soundly until 9 o'clock and get up refreshed, ready for a new day's work. Pres. Taft is another type of healthy manhood. Who thinks for one moment that he would be the President of the United States today had he been a dyspeptic or affected with some nervous ailment? I claim that two-thirds of all the failures in professional and business life are due to weak and deranged stomachs. No business house would care to employ a dyspeptic representative to sell goods for them on the road. One-half the men who stand behind counters today, earning from $12 to $15 a week, will never get beyond these figures, for the reason that they are physically weak. They lack the nerve power and commanding strength that come from a good, sound stomach. No one cares to hear a dyspeptic preacher. No matter how pious he may be, he is bound to reflect his bilious and jaundiced condition. He will unconsciously inoculate his hearers with his melancholy feelings. "No one would think of entrusting an important legal case in the hands of a dyspeptic lawyer, any more than he would care to entrust his own life, or that of a dear one. In the hands of a physician who is nervous, irritable, or a dyspeptic. Men must have good digestion, strong nerves, and vital manhood in order to render a clean, clear-cut decision either in medicine, law, or business. "I believe that more than half of the divorces can be traced to ill health. I want every dyspeptic to try my stomach treatment, for it corrects nearly all forms of indigestion and nervousness. It makes old stomachs almost as good as new. Its marvelous power for digesting food and getting the best out of it makes for good rich, red blood. This, in turn, strengthens the nerves, builds up the general system, and will surely prolong life and make it a pleasure to live and do the things allotted to us." Professor Munyon makes no charge for consultation or medical advice: not a penny to pay. Address Prof. J. M. Munyon. Munyon’s laboratories. Fifty-third and Jefferson streets. Philadelphia, Pa. Lawn Economics. "I note," says the sage, "that you allow a sprinkler to spray water upon your lawn almost continuously." "Yes," said the native. "We do that to make the grass grow." "But the other day I saw a man pushing a clicker contrivance over the lawn and—" "Oh, yes; that was a lawn mower." "And what is its purpose?" "Why, it cuts the grass." "Then why do you put water on it to make it grow if you simply cut it down as fast as it comes up?"—Judge. A Student of Humanity. Mrs. Carter and her cook, says the Brooklyn Citizen, were discussing the murder which had harrowed the dusky citizens of the countryside. "Will they hang him for killing of his wife, Miss Carter?" "We can't tell yet, Aunt Jinny. The court will decide. Of course, if they prove he did it on purpose—" "Done it a purpose! Daw, Miss Carter, in course he kilt his wife a purpose! Honey, ain't I done been married? Don't I know men?" The world doesn't ask how you got there after you arrive. Cement Talk No. 8 The appearance of any place can be greatly improved by using concrete wherever possible. If you have a nice home, whether in the city or in the country, you can add greatly to its attractiveness by building not only the sidewalks, but the steps, curbs, fence-posts, cisterns, foundations, driveways, cellars and so on, of concrete. Build of concrete and use UNIVERSAL Portland cement. Concrete is cheap, easy to use, clean, fire, rat and rot proof. Concrete is the simplest building material and the most durable. You need only UNIVERSAL cement, sand, gravel or crashed stone. But remember to use UNIVERSAL—it is the best cement. It is always of uniform color and great strength. Ask your dealer for it. UNIVERSAL PORTLAND CEMENT CO. TRICK BUILDING, PITTSBURGH ANNUAL OUTPUT 10,000,000 BARRELS 