Weakened One Man’s Constitution Until It “Brought Him to ‘ Death’s Door. Mr. James S. Harrison, a well-known and highly respected citizen of Cleve- land, 0., was for years a sufferer from dyspepsia and general debility, and in his weakened condition, resulting from the above causes, he had the additional ill-luck to fall a victim to malaria. from this complication of disorders. Mr. Harrison 8 condition was becomingvery serious, when he commenced to take P. P. P., Lippman’s Great Remedy. Its effects were marked and immediate. Read his letter to us. Its earnestness ‘ is apparent: GENTLEMEN: For the benefit of all suffering from dyspepsia and general debility I beg to submit my testimonial as to the efficacy of your P. P. P., Lipp- man’s Gre at' Remedy, as a positive cure for all the distressing complaints from which I suffered My system was also full of Malar1a and my condition was g1 o1v1n0' very serious; I had no appetite was 1:105ng strength and was completely broken down in health, but now my health is completely restored, and I can eatlike a field laborer, 1v1thout the slightest fear of any se1 ious results. I take great pleasure in telling the world that P. P. P. did the grand work of restoring me to my accustomed health. YOurs truly, JAMES S. HARRISON, Cleveland, 0. Ifyou get 11p feeling tired and stupid, P. P. P. should be taken—it will make you feel well. P. P. P. cures eczema, that tortur ing, itching disease of the skin and blood. If your blood is kept pure, you will not be disfigured with pimples, boils and blotches. P. P. P. is the deadly foe and van quisher of rheumatism. Its effects are immediate and lasting ,and it '10t only relieves, but permanently cures. Scrofula, which is hereditary and deep- seated 1n the blood can be cured by P. P. P. 1t1s the one and only posi- tive cure for this dread disease. Sufferers from kidney troubles find immediate relief when they take P. P. 3". as it cures all irregularities and re- stores to nature her proper functions. Sold by afiruggists. LIPPMAN 111105., Apfiiecaries, Sole Prop’rl. Llppmun’u Block, Savannah, Ga. shertness of breath—a sensation ‘ of dryness and heat in the ' throat. HALE’S HONEY HUREHIIIINE Neglect - is dangerous. TAR Hale’ 5 Honey of Horehound and Tar acts like a charm on the throat and bronchialtubes. Use it before it’s too late. Sold by druggists. Pike’s Toothache Drops cure in one minute. Special to ‘Red lem of This Paper. ,1. ported. Good Teas and ‘ Coffees 251: per lb. We T E. ‘1 , ,.. Send this “ad. ' and to 7 11 send 511... of rmfi ., ‘1 cents in stamps and we will mail y ou 141b, 0! FAMILY TEAS on receipt of this “ad." and $2. 00 charges paid 1, any kind of Tea you may select. the best 1m~ THE GREAT AMERICAN TBA 60., 3| and 33 Vesey St., N. Y., P. 0. Box 289. DAVID w. RAYMOND 11111111111111 all 11111111111131 . 39 Washington Street South Norwalli u. Residence. Manackemo Hotel. Horace E. Darin, sxounsxos 1‘ Liverv and Sales Stable. “wuwuuuvuvs-M“ Opposite Danbury and ‘ fl Norwaik Railroad depot Norwalk. Conn. Stylish Single orDouble Teams with or without drivers iafe horses for women 1nd-1hlldren. . «mm: 40993139 A SPECIALTY Piano Lessons. RS GEORGE W DBRADLEY, (daughter of the late Wm.D .1. Nash. ) gives efiioent and satisfactory instructions on the Pianos her home No.19? This street. J. D. J enuing. . UNDF ERTAKFR Opposite ".2 Street R1ilway Depot: STRENGTH. Strer. gen tci (lo-day 1511.11 we need, As there will never be a to-morro“: F01 to- marrow will p1 me but another to-day. \\ ith its measme of joy 01' so1ro11, Strength f01 to-day—in house and home, To p1 act 1512 forbeaiauoe sweetly: To scatter kind words and living deeds, Sti‘. ltrusting in God completely. Strength for to-dayl What a precious boon For the earnest souls who labor; For the willing hands that minister To the loving friend or neighbor! HE HAD HIS 01101011. BY IV. PETT RIDGE. / It'was an eccentric gallery, with pic- tures painted by men who were young enough to know better, of sprawling ladies in green, scarlet landscapes, and blue angels. The frames formed in themselves a grim attraction to most of the visitors; the catalogue was us- ually preserved by suburban patrons for the purpose of frightening birds. "It does one good,” said Mr. James Marchant, “to come to a show like this. If I ever go out to the Cape again—” "Which you won’t,” said the young lady. - "And I feel wistful—” “Mal du pays,” suggested the young lady. “Exactly. Why, then, I shall think of this hideous collection of pictures, and I shall feel reconciled to my lot. The Cape is not all honey, but at any rate you do get nature them. And na- ture is always good.” “I suppose these artists think she can be improved by the introduction of a little novelty.” ' “I wouldn’t,” said Mr. James Mar- ch'ant, waving his stick round the gal- lery, “give twopence halfpcnny for the lot of them.” “I don‘t suppose they would care to sell them for less.” Mr. James Merchant laughed good- temperedly, and touched her hand, which happened to be resting on her knee. It was a very pretty hand and neatly gloved, and there was good ex- 'cuse for him. “But there is something,” he said, lowering his voice, “in the gallery, El- la, that I would~ give every penny I have in the world to possess.” “A picture?” “Prettier than any picture?” “Statuary?” “Better shaped than any statuary.” “Not disposed of already?” “I hope not. There is‘only one dif- ficulty—I am not sure, if I were to make an offer now, that it would be accepted.” “How shall you find out?” He rose and adjusted his frock-coat with the manner of a man to whom for some years frock-coats had not been familiar wear. He was a tall, brown- faced man, with a good deal of ear- nestness in his eyes. “I shall ask Mr. Beckett.” “0h!” she said. .She gasped a little before she went on. "And you—you think my step-mother will be—will be able to advise you in the matter?” “I think she will.” “It seems tome,” she said, rolling up her catalogue very tightly, “rather an old-fashioned mode of procedure.” “There is this excuse in my case. Mrs. Beckett has an idea, I am afraid, that Iihvave brought back from the Cape untold gold. I want to make her understand that, when I say I shall have to work for my living, I really mean it.” “I am glad,” she said quietly. “I know that you are, dear. suppose parents are different.” “My parent is.” “And if she objects, Why,” he looked down upon her affectionately, “I shall just pack you up, Ella, and run off with you.” “Now,” she said delightedly, “that is more old-fashioned than even.” “I shall see you to-night?” “I am sure,” she said, with her little hand resting for a moment in his. “I think the invitation is for two only.’ “I_ have a great mind,” said James Merchant, looking down at her afiec- tionately, “to kiss you.” “That is no evidence of a great mind,” she said reprovingly. “Beside, you are in London now.” “I am afraid,” said James Mar- chant, apologetically, “that I have much to learn before I become, re-civ- ilized. The Cape makes one forget all one’s manners.” “It has not made you forget your friend-s,” she said. “There was one,” he said. as' he as- sisted her into the hansom, “she was only a small girl— “Not old enough to count?” “Of whom I thought every day of my life out thre1e.” ' There were tears in her eyes that challenged the lightness of her good- by. The small gloved hand was pressed in the big fist of the man from the Cape for one moment, and then he gave the address to the driver. It was with great dexterity that at dinher in Duke Street Mansions that night Mr. James Merchant contrived to get himself paired with the excel- lent Mrs. Beck ett. “I should have thought you would have insisted, Sim—ply ,insisted on taking down my dear Madeleine.” Mrs. Beckett fluttered her fan at Mr. Marchant in a manner that had in the early seventies been pronounced bcwitching. “I want particularly to speak to you, Mrs. Beckett. I want to offer my- self—” “S'S' But I sh!” said Mrs. Beckett mysteri- ously. “Not a word. I know exactly what you are going to say. elelne, my dear,” she called to a tall, bony damsel just in front of them, “you haven’t shaken hands with clear Mr. Marclnint. How very remiss of you! The dear girl is sor'thoughtlevss; do you know M1. Merchant, that I de- clare to goodness I believe she’s real ly in love.” , , v , was trying to say. ‘ the table at the other guests. Mad- - Miss Madeleine received this raille‘ry with a grim smile, and shook hands with Mr; Marchant. Miss. Madeleine explained that her half-sister Ella had remained at home because she had some writing to do. “Poor Ella’” s-aid‘Mrs. Beckett, with effusive sympathy, “poor dear girL I’m really dreadfully fond of her. Yop must give me your advice, .Mr. \Iar- chant, concerning her.,,at dinner. I feel already—forgive ' e for saying "s0~I feel already as though you were one of the family.” / “I have noticed it all along, do you know, and I am so delighted. Quite enchanted, really. And my influence with the clear girl will make her like you. I dare say you may have thought her little—what shall I say, cold ?——but, as a matter of fact, it has only been— oh, bless my soul, thick soup, please—- what is the expression? been-it has only been—” “Maidenlylreserve,” sugges’ted J amcs Marchant. “Pre—ciselyi Pre—cisely what I How clever of you, dear Mr. Merchant! “I want- to speak to you about that, Mrs. Beckett. I’m afraid you don’t re- alize what I mean when I say that I haven’t brought much! home with me.” “Now. my dear Mr. _l\Ia1'chant—— “You must allow me, please, to tell you exactly my position. Unless I work and earn money We sha’nt havc—” “Mr. Mai-chant, this eleborate ruse is one that I have heard of before. A woman like myself doesn’t live in this world for—well, a certain number of years for nothing.” “No,” said Mr. Marchant, money, I know.” “That is not at all what I mean. But when you came back from the Cape a few weeks ago, and hinted that you had only a few hundreds, I could see through it at once. It was—this is a. dreadfully slangy expression—too thin. But the dear girl, of course, didn’t see through it, and consequently you may feel quite sure that she will love you for yourself alone. That’s all you wanted, isn’t it?” “That, most certainly, is all that I wanted, but—” “And, fortunately enough to con- firm my suspicions, I came across a letter addressed to a friend of mine; she didn’t know that I saw it, but I managed to do it, all the same—from your partner, Burchison.” “Really ?” James Marchant was suddenly terested. “And Mr. Burchison said that you and he had made a pile—such an odd expression, isn’t it?—of twenty thou- sand pounds. And he said that he thought you would both stay on for a few years, but, as we know, you sen- sibly enough came home.” Mrs. Beckett looked triumphantly across at her/angular daughter oppo- site, who was bawling information about the weather to a deaf archdea- “it costs in- con, and then at Marchant. She shook ‘ her head waggishly at the man from the Cape. ' “Can I see that letter?” he asked. - shar.ply “Luckily I have it in my pocket, but I really dont know whether I ought to show it to you. You see it is pri- vate.” - 5 “Is that why you took it, Mrs. Beck- ett?” “Come, come, Mr. Marchant. Don’t be too severe. One has to keep one’s eyes open in this world.” She found the letter with some dif- ficulty, for the pockets- in ladies’ dresses are remote and difficult to ac- cess and, under ambush of his plate, Marchant read it. “Mrs. Beckett,” he said excitedly, “you have, without knowing it, done' me a very great service. Burchison de‘ . clared to mevthat he had invested our gains, and that all the money had been lost. It seems from this letter that he has behaved shamefully, and ,I shall make him disgorge every penny that belongs to me. I shall go back to the Cape by the next boat.” “This is very unsatisfactory,” de- clared Mrs. Beckett, aggrievedly. “You can’t very well get married before next Saturday.” “The dear girl will , wait,” swered confidently. ‘ “I am not so sure of that,” said Mrs. Beckett sharply. “Dear Madeleine is not so young as she was.” “So I should judge. But what has sheto do with the affair? Is she to be bridesmaid ?" 1 “Madeleine has been bridesmaid quite often enough,” said her mother. he an- “This time, providing this money af—- fair cf you-rs comes out right, she will be the bride.” “\Vhose bride, Mrs. Beckett?" “Why bless the man,” cried Beckett, “yours." “I don’t see how that can be man- aged with conveniencc. There’s a law against bigamy, I believe. Besides, I only want to marry your stepdaugh- ter.” * - “Ella?” exclaimed amazement. “If you don't mind.” Mrs Becket laid down her knife and fork, and stared distractedly around Finally herpeyes rested on Madeleine, and she frowned sovmuch at that young lady that Madeleine asked. across the table in an audible tone if she were ill. “Ill?” echoed Mrs. Beckett, tartl‘y; “I have uncommonly good cause to be. To think that I have taken all this trouble for the sake of poor Mr. Beckett’s ri- diculous little daughter by his first wife. Why, sn‘e isn’t Wol‘tl‘l'— . “Excuse me,’, interrupted Marchant, p1omptly; “vou will remembe1 please, that you are speaking of a lady who is to be my wife. ‘Bahl” said Mrs. ber's J ournal. Mrs. Mrs. Becket, in It has only Beckett.'—.Cham« THEE E vE N in G G‘Az E '1 - met another TT VALUE OF TIME. Avoid Petty Economies that Cost More Than They Are “‘oxith. . Many housewives who are extreme- ly frugal in other things seem to have no idea of the value of time. A good deal of time is daily wasted and much extra labor expended in preparing the meals by having to wash one sauce- pan in which to cook a second dish that could as well ave been cooked w ith the same fire and watched at the same time as the first. 01 a towel must do duty as a strainer or colan- (1913110 agcount being made of the time requ'-red to wash the towel, nor of its becoming w01n or stained. Or a silver spoon is used to sti1 or lift foodfor the lack of iron 01' wooden ones.’ Why not afford such kettles. and pans as are really needed for ad- vantageous cooking and “save” in some other department? Have you ever seen some busy housewife hanging out clothes on a cold, windy day, taking ogffa clothen pin every time a garment is added to the line, trying to make the pin hold two and sometimes three articles? When good clothespins can be bought at such low rates it seems like very unwise economy to stand on the cold and damp ground double the time re— ally required to shake out and hang 11p the clothes and run the risk of tak-- ing cold while so doing. Could any mathematician compute the numberof half-hours spent in a family of half a dozen children in un- tying hard knots in shoe strings that are too short 01' so worn as. to require tying in more than one place and must again be untied before the little shoes can be taken off? Shoe strings cost, it may be 10 cents a dozen pairs. Could the hours which some mothers spend in one year alone in managing worn-out shoe laces in order to save a few cents "not be better utilized in do- ing some sewing 01' some other work by which enough could be earned to stock the family with shoe strings for life? Beware of these extravagant economies—Philadelphia Record. Tidiness. In days gone by, before the new wo- man appeared upon the scene of ac- tion, girls were rigidly taught the good old-fashioned principle- of tidi- ness. Neutness hardly expresses my meaning as well as does the quaint old-time word. To be tidy, W'ebster tells us. is to be arranged in good or- der; kept in proper and becoming neat- ness. Nowadays girls are neat to a certain extent and in a- certain way. They bathe freely and wear clean clothes, but are they tidy? Fre- quently they are not. Their hair is of- ten loose and prone to tumble down; their gloves are sometimes ripped at the finger tips, and one 01' two buttons are lacking from their boots. The stock collar is often fastened on with an ordinary white pin that is very ob- ”vious, and the veil has occasionally .'1 ‘hole over the nose or chin. Our girl is charming; but is she as careful as she . shouldo’be? The other day. I was making a morn. ing call at a friend’s house, and there caller, a woman who made a most agreeable impression on me. She was not elaborately dressed, but her black tailor-made gown fitted her well, and there was not a spot or a speck of dust on it. I knew that it had been brushed carefully before she left her room. Her linen collar and cuffs were snowy white, and did not twist or shift from their proper places. Her gloves did not wrinkle, and but- toned smoothly over the wrists; her shoes were like the rest of her attire— dainty—and her bonnet rested firmly and straight on soft brown hair that, while wavy and fluffy, was. neatly , dressed and so securely pinned that I fancy a high wind would not have caused it to come down. A thin veil covered a fresh complexion and bright face. The tout ensemble gave one the idea of daintiness and delicate finish. In speaking of this woman afterwards to a man who knows her, I said: “There is something about her ap- pearance that charms one. What is the secret ‘3” “I will tell you,” he said. “She is a well-groomed woman. There are never any rough or loose ends about her.” “You mean that she is tidy,” I said to him. - - “You call it ‘tidy,’ I say ‘well- groomed.’ We both mean the same thing." However one may express it—in sporting terms or with the old-fash- ioned word—is the condition not well worth striving for?» Nothing is so de- structive to illusion, so detrimental to the fascination of beauty or personal charm, as the lack of this quality.- Harper’s Bazar. . , A Protection for Waists. ‘ Many fastidious women wear, with their low-necked corset covers, alarge kerchief—the word used by our grand- mothers is the only corre‘ct one—0f the finest and sheerest linen, hem~stitch~ed, crossed over the neck. and brought up well in the throat. This is to protect the lining of the gowns. One of these kerchiefs, after once wearing by the daintiest of women, shows dusky shadows upon it, which point to a hy— gienic moral. Sensible Dame Fashion—she is at bottom an old lady of much common sense—has not as yet provided a cov— ering for the bare arms that are thrust into elegantly lined gowns. My lady does not realize how much she needs them. But she would be horrified at the thought of wearing another gai- mept next her skin for two weeks - Without submitting it to the laundress. ‘2' g. \\ Middle Ages, and lacks butthe moat 'fect picture of an old feudal strong- For clothes, dishes, and tall I. 7 ' cleaning purposes, IVORIN E WASHING POWDER is matchless. _"' The splendid cake of Toilet Soap in every package' 1s the delight of the whole family. THE J- B. WILLIAMS 60., Makers of Williams Famous Shaving Soaps. Write for catalogue of choice premiums. HING POWI) GLASTousueY. CONN. FONTHILL CASTLE. BUILT BY EDWIN FORREST, ihE WELL KNOWN 'TRAGEDIAN. His \Vife did not Look Forward to Lead- ing the Quiet Life that Her Husband Desired. The Beautiful Home Brought no Happiness with Its Completion. A half-hour’s sail up the river from New York brings the tourist in View of the battlemented keep and tower of Foothill, rising above the treetops on the summit of .'Mount St. Vincent. The castle is built of stone in imitation of the Norman-Gothic structures of the and the drawbridge to present a per- hold. In all other respects it is the most complete reproduction of a me- diaeval castle that can befound in this country. Fonthill was erected by Edwin For- rest, the great tragedian, when he was in the zenith of his fame, and was in- tended for the happy retreat of his de- clining years. It was destined, how- ever, to be intimately associated with the domestic tragedy that broke up his home and embittered the last days of his life. The story of his famous divorce suit is too well known to bear repetition, but it is not so well known that the incidents which led up to it were developed while he was engaged in laying out his extensive grounds and building his beautiful Norman castle at Foothill. While absorbed in this work be occupied a handsome stone cottage that is still standing on the grounds, and was, to a certain ex- tent, living apart from his wife. It is said that she did not look with favor upon her husband’s plans for the future. She was of a lively, social dis- position, fond of entertaining the many friends she drew around her by. her charms, while Mr. Forrest was quiet and reserved, caring little for home company outside of a few inti- mate friendsand his own immediate household. The idea of spending her remaining days shut up within the stone walls of a feudal castle, with no other company than her husband, was altogether distasteful to Mrs. Forrest’s imagination; so she passed the greater part of her time in New York, keeping open house, while Mr. Forrest staid at Fonthill, busy with landscape garden~ ers and architects. At last the castle was finished, and preparations were completed for mov- ing into it, when the discovery came that led to the ruin of their happiness. »Defeated in his divorce suit, Mr. For- rest was too much chagrined to con- template living a solitary life in a a home around which his fancy had weaved so many dreams of domestic' bliss. He determined to part with his estate, and the Sisters of Charity of the Roman Catholic faith having of- fered him $100,000 for it, be trans- ferred the land, with all the buildings upon it, to their ownership. It is said that Mr. Forrest never'passed a night in the home he had planned with so much solicitude and care. But the story does not end here; it has a tragic sequel. George J amieson, an actor, who was held by many to be responsible for the domestic infelicities of the Forrests, met with a horrible death many years afterward under the very walls of the castle that had been built by the man he is said to have wronged. He was walking down the tracks of the Hud- son River Railroad one night to take a train at the Mt. St. Vincent station for New Yo1k, when he was st1uck by the engine of an express and instantly killed. - I‘onthill Castle is at present occupied by an aged prelate of the Roman Catholic Church. The Right Rev. Mgr. Bernard O’Reilly, Prothonotary Apostolic of the Papal Court, the au- thor of the Lives of Popes Pius IX. and Leo XIII., and of other scholarly works. is spending the evening of his days in this, quiet, beautiful retreat.— ' l'.;slie’s \Vcekly. ‘ ' Lady Shopper—I'waht to get some- [ thing suitable for a boy of ten years. I Salesman—Slipper counter down the : second aisle; turn to your right—Hos 1 ton Transcript. POCKETS'FOR 'USE AND FOR STYLE. Thirty of Them Made in a Pair of Breeches of the Year 1611. Perhaps the best proof of the ad- vance of the Japanese in civilization is to be found in their use of pockets. The people of that country have usual; 1y six or eight pockets cunningly in— sorted in the ends of their wide sleeves. These pockets are always ‘ filled with a curious miscellany. As common as the twine—in. the peckets of young Americans is the prayer amulet written 011 sheets of rice paper and composed by the bonzes. In accord ance with their faith, these aniulets are swallowed like a pill 'in cases of mental or physical distress. Another essential seldom missing is a number of small squares of silky paper. These are put to unexpected uses, such as to hold the stem of a lily or lotus, to dry 3. teacup or to wipe away .a tear. Among the Chinese and other nations a pouch is used instead of a pocket. This was also the case in western Eu- rope in the middle ages and for some time afterward. The pouch was. at- tached to the girdle along 'with a dag- ger and rosary. Breeches, however, hadégp ockets at an early date. In an old play written about 1611 it is mentioned that a man had his breeches plaited as if they had thirty pockets. But pockets did not ~ attain their proper position 1mtil the adoption of the modern style of men’s garments. “’ith waistcoats a great opportunity for pockets presented it- self. Later they were' ,made very broad and deep and were covered '~ with embroidery and buttons. In the reign of George III. waistcoat pockets reached such size in England that they became objects of ridicule so that they soon began to resume more moderate proportions—New York Evening Post. The Children’s Hour. “In‘ English country homes,” says 11 woman who has spent considerable time in one pf them, “there is a ‘chil— dren’s hour,’ as it is always called, Iwhich, if it dates froni Longfellow, is more carefully obselved in a foreign land than in the poet’s country. It is right after 5 o’clock tea in the drawing room and school room tea up stairs. It is celebrated before the open fire in the day nursery, whither the mother of the family comes to meet her little flock. There are stories, perhaps, and a game, and finally a. restful quarter of an hour, in which ,/ the tender confidences of childhood are Whispered into loving sympathetic ears—be they a hurt of mind or body, a wall of discouragement, or a paean. of secret ambition. The beautiful system of an English household makes this happy and helpful time possible in every day’s routine, and it is never interfered With ”-—Ph1ladel- phia Ledger. . . fi.____-__.__ .1 Use of Burdock In Japan. A J apaneSe correspondent of Garden and Forest says that the burdock, which the Japanese call “gobo,” is a. valuable food in Japan. The tender shouts are boiled.with beans, the roots are put in sou-p, and the young leaves are eaten as greens. The plant has been cultivated for centuries, and the annual value of the crop is about $400,000. This Will be very surprising to American farmers, who look on the burdock as a “pesky weed.”-—'New York Tribune. VI: ‘4'- Plant. _ One of Mexico’s most curious plants is called the threaddand-needle tree, ~_ and it bears a close resemblance to an overgrown asparagus. Along the edges of the leaves, which are thick and fleshy and full of tiny fibres of great strength, very sharp “needl‘es’” grow. If pushed back into the leaf and cut loose from its tough setting, the thorn may be easily pulled out, a lot of the tough little fibres attached to the root of the thorn coming out With it. When these fibres are twisted together with ,. i wax, a strong, smooth thread is the re- sult. , _ "“Ikey, Ikeyl - Felix Mrs. Goldstein: f has svallcred a penny.” Mr. Goldstein: “Vot a great poy! A1- re'tty'he vents to shtart in peeziness, as a penny-in-der-slot machine.”—Tid- . - I llils Stamped “ Bos THE ORIGINAL Always the Same
Norwalk Chronicler