mped by the heart through these _abb_-sorbing
membranes, takes up that priceless tonic, Doctor Quagg's Peerless
Sciatacata. This, acting _dii_-rectly upon the red corpuscles of
the vital fluid, _stimm_-ulates the circulation and carries its
germ-destroying properties to every atom of the human frame,
casting off _imm_-purities, _clean_-sing the syst-_em_, bringing
_ee_-lasticity to the footsteps, hope to the heart, the ruddy glow
of bounding health to pale cheeks, and the sparkle of new life to
tired and jaded eyes!"

Wallingford turned to his wife with a chuckle,

"Just stand here a minute, Fannie," said he. "I must wade in and speak
to the old scout. We stopped a week at the same hotel over in New
Jersey and got as chummy as two cell-mates."

Fannie smiled doubtfully in response, and watched her husband with a
slight trace of concern as he forced his way through the crowd and up
to the wheel of the carriage.

"How are you, Doctor?" said he, holding up his plump palm. "Where are
you stopping?"

The doctor's wink at J. Rufus was scarcely perceptible to that large
young gentleman himself, much less to the bystanders, as with
professional gravity he reached down for a hearty handshake.

"Benson House. Come around and see me to-morrow morning." Then, with
added gravity and in a louder voice: "I scarcely knew you, friend, you
are so changed. How many bottles of the Sciatacata was it you took?"

"Four," replied J. Rufus clearly, with not even a twinkle in his eye.

"Only four bottles," declaimed Doctor Quagg. "My friends, this is one
of my most marvelous cures. When I met this gentleman in Columbus,
Ohio, he was a living skeleton, having suffered for years from
sciatic rheumatism. He bought from me one night at my carriage, just
as he is standing now, six bottles of the Peerless Sciatacata. He took
but four bottles, and look at him to-day!"

With one accord they looked. There was some slight tittering among
them at first, but the dignity and gravity with which the towering J.
Rufus, hale and hearty and in the pink of condition, withstood that
inspection, checked all inclination to levity. Moreover, he was
entirely too prosperous-looking to be a "capper."

"I owe you my life, Doctor," said Wallingford gratefully. "I never
travel without those other two bottles of the Sciatacata," and with
the air of a debt of honor paid, he pressed back through the crowd to
the sidewalk.

His wife was laughing, yet confused.