gif ERRANT THOUGHTS.
la the gentle, 8tar*lftfht nt/ht:
And dreaming oft before, on night4 as fair,
My hopes and thoughts have taken flight
And gone I know not where.
The hopes and thoughts wore youthful dream
CW high ideas—of better things to be—
Their wings were llko tin* sunset beams
v\'i When they took flight from mo.
\
jftkKV.-, X would not call thorn bud: n min—
I do not know the haven where they rest—
Tboy may have .soothed some bitter pain
ti x Or brightened some sad breast.
For much there Is not understood.
Our life is moulded by the little things.
Love gives to us n thought thill's good
And God may givn it wings
4
V(.
—N. V. Journal
SCARLET FORTUNE,
IIV H. HEHMAN.
CHAPTER Vil—Continiikp.
Young Clovo loaded hor with kind
ly attentions and rnng the boll for
tho maid, who escorted tho girl to
hor room.
Ho had riot breathed a syllabic to
Lucy concerning his footings about
that letter.
“Iam sorry. Mr. Ashland,” ho said,
that I have not tho slightest momory
about your brother. I suppose you
have heard of my misfortune, and !
that will be my explanation to you.
But I would bo obliged if you would
leave this matter in iny hands, so
that I may make further inquiries
on the subject.
“Ueorgo Maclane, Dick Ashland’s
neighbor," he muttered to himself
whon the yeoman was gone. “And
Diok had found gold and I wa3 to
help him got it. And George Mac
land has found gold, and Dick Ash
land has novor again boon huard of,
and I am horo with four desperato
wounds on my heal."
Ho aroso and walked up and down
the room in a slow, measured tramp.
“And Lucy.” ho continued in troin
J ulous sctf-corumunloatlon, ••has had
a desperate quarrel with her father
and hor cousin, and will not go noar
them, and will havo nothing to do
if-, with them. And Lucy Is a good,
“ • true, houcst girl—a kindly, noblo
girl—who would not loavo her father
without ample reason.”
y*.
Up UUU UUWII U1U [UUIIl
became faster, and a dark shadow
settled on tho young mail's brow.
"I cun soo it all,” ho oontinuod.
“Lucy knows somothlng of this,
and her futhor and cousin are in I
it, only she is too true to thorn oven
now, and will say nothing against
them. If there’s treachery in it,
she’ll never denounce them. And
she’s right of course. Right and good
as she always Is. She can’t bo ex
pected to be a witness against hor
on n father. If ever the word ‘brute’
was written in a man's face, it is in
George Maclane’s. Dick Ashland!’’
he muttered. “Dick Ashland!”
■ The muscles of his handsomo face
contracted as it in pain.
“God1.” he exclaimed, “It is hard.
Why can’t I remember? Why can’t I
Temomber?”
Then, on a sudden, ho chookod
himself, and a look of stern deter
mination took the place of tho an
guish that had succedad it. A
“I will remember,” ho chlod. “I
will remember."
IIo stopped in front of his table
and rang the bell.
“Send at once a raassongoh to Sir
William Cutabortson, in Mount
street,” ho said to the man who en
tered, “and toll him Lord Clove will
call on him at twelve o'clock to-day.”
That being over, he sot. to work
arranging his papers with an air of
quiet commonplace whieh proved tho
intensity of his desire. >
“I'll get at the bottom of this,” he
said determinedly to himself. “Sir
William shall operate on me as soon
as over ho will.” •
SK''.
&VA
t.-iv '
& S
: ;H ■
T-:<
IU
CHAPTER VIII.
“Boltons,” South Kensington—gen
erally known as “The Boltons"—
was, in the year of graco eighteen
sixty, one of too fashionable localities
of London. The Maclanes, desirous
of mixing with fa hionable society
in London, had chosen a house in
“The Boltons” for their habitation.
London fashion and fashiouablos
required a yearly renewal of tho
supply of lions to their social men
agerie. Now, real big lions, were
scarce and often very shy; therefore,
London fashion and fashionables had
sometimes to content themselves
with a wretched, starving semblance
of the noble beast, and, as long as a
pretence was furnished by a lion's
Btcin and mane, London fashion and
fashiouablos were often compelled to
ignore that an ass's body was cov
ered by a yellow hide. . It must be
confessed that London fashion and
fashionables overlooked the defects
of the:.r once caught lions with ready
alacrity, and in the most amiable
wa • threw dust in their own eyes by
di covering all sorts of virtues to
which their newly-caugut boast
could lay but little claim, and b/
accepting upon themerost hearsay as
gospel truth, and by heralding to tho
world with trumpet blasts, every
babbled statement that could possibly
bring it credit > i. '.J
In the case of the Macianes, the
efforts of London fashion and
fashionables showed some portion -of
reason in their . madness through
the fact that both the Machines .were
marriageable and wore wealth/.'
Now a lion in fashion is a desirable
beast A wealthy lion becomes a
dream of loveliness. But a marriage
able wealthy lion—ye gods and little
fishes, where shall I find adjectives
and adverbs sufficiently to portray
the estimation in whieh he is held
by Tyburnia. Belgravia, and Mayfair?
Many and various had been the as
saults by maidens and matrons upon
the single blessedness of George and
David Maclaue. High-born ladies
. vied with one another to draw the
lions into' their nets they were
spreading for them. As we have
seen, no less a person than the only
daughter of the marquis of Gwendale
f■ j
consented to link her name to that
of tho young American, and all went
swimmingly for poor Dick Ashland’s
assassins until they wero frightened
nearly out of thoir senses by their
sudden meeting with Lord Clove.
Even that dread had long ago van
ished. They wero cognizant of tho
fact that Herbert had lost all trace
of memory, and, tho Drat shock of
meeting with their victim being
past, they became quickly
reassure 1, and, in the privacy of their
own homo, laughod at thomselvos
for thus allowing: thomselvos to bo
frightened oy a harmless bogey.
Shortly after that thoy learned,
not without trepidation, that Lucy
was In London, residing with Lord
Clovo. Lucy, they know had kept
her word, and had beon as silent
as tho grave in which Dick
Ashland’s bones were resting. Thoy
dobatod with themselves whothor or
not they ought to go and soo her,
but Unally decided it was best to
leave well alono. If Lucy wlshe l to
hold communicatiin with them sho
would have no difficulty in finding
thorn.
One day after luncheon, thoy
were sittiug over their fifth or sixth
bottlo ot champagne, when David
Maclane, who between tho whiffs of a
huge cigar, was reading “Albert
Gate,” suddonly put down his weed
and dropped tho papor on tho table
in front of him in a breathless per*
turbation.
“Waal,” exclaimed George, “who’s
boon made meat of now? Yew look
that sheared, one might think the
•Hapahoas wore aftor your top-knot. ”
David Maclane for all reply pushed
tho papor toward his undo.
“I’ll be doggone if I can make yew
out!” cried the latter. “I guess
yow’ve got to bo such an elegant crit
ter as yow cayn’t speak no more, no
how. What’s tho sign now?"
“Tho sign's bad Injun’, George,”
David replied wistfully. "It’s dorna
tlon bad Injun’, an its ‘facos blaek
enod for war,’ Roal this an’ I guess
it’ll give yow yewr stomachful, this
day and to-morror, an’ a good while
to come.
wuurgo uiuciuuo cast a aisuainrui
glance at his nophow. He took up
the journal and his oyes foil im
mediately on tho following para
graph:
••Our readers aro probably aware
that the young oarl of Clove, whose
happy return to England we an
nounced some time ago, has boon suf
fering from complete loss of memo
ry, the result of some ugly wound in
the head. Lord Cleve has placed
himself undor the care of Sir Wil
liam Cuthbortson in tho hope that
the groat surgeon might be able to
help him In recovering the valuable
mental faculty of which he has boon
deprived. AH London will bo glad
to learn that, about ten days ago.
Sir William porformod a most suc
cessful operation on his distinguished
patient, and that the young earl's
power of memory is returning fast.
Thero is no doubt whatever teat, be
fore a month is over it will be com
pletely restored,and as tho young no
bleman's careor has boon a most
romantio one, though hitherto a
closed book, oven to himself, we may
oxpoct some interesting recitals of
tho thrilling incidents of his lifo in
Amorica—the most interesting one
being naturally tho account of the
murderous conflict in which ho re
ceived his terrible wounds.”
George Mac lane dropped the paper,
as his nophow had done before him,
and gave a long, low whistle.
“I guess yow’re right, Dave.” ho
said. “It’s bal Injun—it’s Injun on
the war-path, an’ powdor runnin’
derned short.”
“What are yew goin’ to do?” tho
younger man asked.
“Do!" exclaimed George. “What
can we do?”
“If that young man remembers a
hand stretch about Dick Ashland,
an’ himself, an’ us, it will snrve us to
a few ya"ds o' ropi apiece. It makes
me shiver to think of it.”
His face had gone ashen, and
brought within discernible distance
of man’s justice, coward fear took
possession of him. His teeth rattled
and his limbs shook.
“Ii that young man remembers!”
George hissod disdainfully. Ho hit
the table with his clenched fist, mak
ing the glasses jump and tho de
canters rattle. His cruel littlo eyes
glittered more ferociously- than over,
and his teeth were sot hard in re
lentless savagery. “Damnation!" ho
cried. “Ho mustn’t remember—ho
shan't’ remember! I guess we’re not
logs. We’ve got heads, havon’t we?
j We’ve got eyes, haven't wo? We’ve
i got hands, haven't we? We’ve got
money, haven’t wo? An’ if wo’ro to
swing fur Dick Ashland, I reckon it
j won't ’matter much if wo cut that
young fellow's throat in the bargain
I to stop his jaw.”
j “That ain’t so easy, George.”
J David answered tremulously. “Yew
, cayn’t get at a man so smack heear
! as out in tho Rocklos. It's just a
: trifle bigger job to stop his jaw in
{ this hole than if wo had him on the
Sangro de Christo.”
: “D—n it.” viciously exclaimed tho
j elder ruffian, “vvo’ve just got to do it,
anil the sooner we make up our
I minds and set to work about it the
better."
CHAPTER IX.
Tho Macianos had no difficulty in
discovering the place whore Sir Wil
I liam Cuthbertson had performed his
i operation and where his distin
| guished patient was slowly recover
i ing. It was a pretty little cottage
standing in a tiny walled garden on
a sparsely-frequented road between
Shepperton and Halliford-ou-Thames.
A former owner had given it the
fanciful name of “The Nest.” The
place wai within easy reach of Lon
don, and although, at a comparatively
j short distance the river teemed with
buoyant life and revelry, along the
lano. shaded by huge ol ins and wild
chestnuts, solitudo was made musloal
only by tho feathered songsters of
the skies, and the sough of the leaves
j quivering with tho summor breeze.
Tho nearest habitation, a small
I house, usually let furnished during
! the boating season, was about five
i and twenty yards away, and occu
[ pied ut tho time. Other residences,
strewn hero and there along the
road, wero hidden deep in park-like
grounds, and gavo rise to no disturb
in'? noises.
The room in which Herbert was
lying was situated on the ground
floor of the little cottage. it was
spacious, and plainly, but extremely
comfortably, furnishod. The walls
were painted a bluish stone gray,
und no pattern of any kind attracted
attention. There were no pictures
on tho walls, and the doors and win
dows wore hung with curtains of a
softly, dull-colored material. The
two big windows looked .across a
small, but beautifully kopt, lawn on
to a brick wall smothered with Vir
ginia creeper. The sky-line was
nearly hidden by giant elms in the
full wealth of their leafy green. All
was simply harmonious—no violences
of taste or shado shocked tho eye.
It was homeliness and comfort made
solid, and yet placed with such
balmy rest as a mountain wilderness
could scarcely surpass.
Not a soul entered his room but
the softly-spoken, gravo-visaged grey
headed attendant, who moved with a
noiseloss solicitudo, and anticipated
his every want, his every wish. The
hours seemed eternal, but his deter
mination strengthened him and made
his temporary loneliness less bitter.
All around him solemn silence
reigned His attendant moved
stealthily like a cat, and no disturb
ing footfall reached his ear from any
whero. It was only at the rarest in
tervals that tho grating of wheels
on tho soft clayey road outside be
came audiblo, or that a passer-by,
more noisy than usual, intrudod upon
| his privacy by tho faint sounds of tho
snatch of a song.
J-'Ucy naa succeeded in obtaining
Sir William Cuthbertson’s permission
to livo in the cottage with Herbert,
upon the express condition that her
presence should not be betrayed by
sound or sign, that she should re
main in the wing of the house op
posite to that where young Cleve
was stretched on his bod of pain. It
can oasily be guessed how gladly she
consented to these conditions: she
would have consented to any terms
to be allowed to remain near the
man she loved so well.
If there was one person in this
world who sinceroly hoped and
prayed for Herbert’s cure, that per
son was Lucy Maclane; and yet no
person in tho world—her father and
oousin included, could have more
dreaded the fatal day when Herbert
would bo cured; when remembrance,
lieree and relentless, would assert
its sway, and ruthlessly dash away
tho curtain which she had woven at
such a cost and under such severe
trials. Her mind was stretched on
tho perpotual rack of tho most ter
rible doubt, with but the faintest
glimmer of hopo piercing the dark
ness that threatened.
I [TO BE CONTINUED.]
| A Youthful Financier.
| He was a small boy, whose head
was about onalovel with the grocery
counter. He swung a tin pail in one
hand and tightly clasped four pen
nies in the other.
“Pleathe. thir, how much ith a
pint of milk?"
••Four cents.”
“Then pleatho give me three thent’
worth and a poppermint stick. My
mother thaid I could have the change,
if there wath any, for candy, and she
muth have known there wouldn't bo
any. It wathn’t fair.”
And tho young financier walked
gayly off with a largo striped stick
of candy aud a very little milk
splashing in the bottom of the pail.
—Wisconsin.
Not to HU rmte.
British husbands, when their din
ner parties turn out failures, are apt
to grumble at their wives for the
cook’s misdemeanors, but they
abstain from the practical style
of rebuking practiced by the
celestials. Kecently the Chinese
professor at a university gave a na
tional banquet to follow professors
and was much put out because the
cookery was net to his taste. After
a time he got up, bowed solemnly
and said, “Go lickee wife,” and de
parted, returning presently, smiling
as blandly as usual, after having ad
ministered judicious chastisement tc
his better halt
Hard Time.,.
“Madam, I—I must apologize. My
—my seven children, and—it’s hard
times, ycu know—and—”
“Poor fellow! Here's a trille for
you. And now toll mo how old are
j the poor little dears.”
|« “Thank ye, mum! Well, Bill ho’s
I 32. ’n Mary’s 27 and married. The
j other five's dead, mum. ’N Bill ’n
Mary says I’m too lazy to livo, mum;
they’ro very ungrateful Thank ye.
again, mum.”
A Premonition of (ire itness.
Pater, to son, who had b3cn left to
take an orange while his father left
the room—Why didn't you take the
largest orange, Johnny?
Fils—Because I could tell by feel
ing them all that the largest one had
no juice in it
Why He Dined at the Club,
“Hullo, old man! How’s it you’re
dining at the club? Thought your
wife told me she had the Browns and
Smiths to dinner this evening.”
< “No; that was yesterday. This
evening she has the odds and ends."
, —Punch.
THE FARM AND HOME.
LESSENING COST OP PRODUC
TION IN DAIRIES.
A Successful Woman Tells How She Does
It—Guinea Fowls—Keeping; Healthy—
Cleaning; a Sick Room—Farm Notes
and Home Hints. .
A Woman's Dairy.
Mrs. E. M. Jones, Brockville, Ont,
5s a very successful dairy woman. In
a paper read before the Quebec
farmer’s congress, she says: We
must increase our products and in
crease our profits too. And one
great way of making more profit is
to follow the teachings of all great
dairy schools and colleges. They
continually tell us to “lessen the cost
of production.” How is this to be
done? By starving our cows? Far
from it. But by keeping a better
class of cows, feeding and caring for
them better, and using more skill
and care in making our butter. We
thus increase our output, and at the
same time we lessen the Cost of pro
duction.
Do not think I advocate too high
feeding for this is almost as great an
error as starving your cattle. Feed
generously and of suitable material,
but And out each cow’s capacity, and
feed her up to the highest point at
which she pays for the feed, and not
one bit beyond it.
In my herd the usual grain ration
for each animal in full milk varies
from seven to ten pounds per cow,
each day. This is composed of
ground oats, ground peas, wheat
bran and occasionally a little oil
meal. The ration is divided into
two feeds, and given night and morn
ing, upon the silage. Should the
silo be empty, the grain is always
fed upon hay that has been cut and
moistened.
The quantity of silage fed is thirty
to forty pounds a day. At neon my
cattle get a very small feed of cut
carrots or mungels, and any further
supply of food required consists of
bright, early-cured, long hay put in
their mangers. They get all tho
salt they need, all the water they
want twice a day, and each cow is
well curried and brushed over every
day. Whenever weather permits,
they are turned out for a short time
about noon, but are never left out
till cold or tired. The barns are
thoroughly cleaned out twice a day.
With this feed and care, I have
two-year old heifers, making from
twelve to fourteen pounds of butter
a week and mature cows making
from sixteen to nineteen pounds a
week. To a very uncommon cow, 1
feed a larger ration. My famous old
“Massena" is now eating more than
the quantity I have just now men
tioned; but what is her yield? Be
ing in her sixteenth year when I
tested her, she gave in eleven months
and nino days, 8,200} pounds of milk,
which churned 604 pounds of magni
ficent butter, and then dropped a
fine heifer calf. With her previous
owner, when she was younger, she is
credited with 900 pounds of butter
in a year, and her record is accepted
by everyone.
Some people say that this large
butter yield wears a cow out. Well,
it has not worn “Massena” out, for
she is hale and hearty, as bright as
a dollar, and due to calve in April,
when seventeen years old.
Now, what we want to do is to get
rid of those poor cows that will not
respond to feeding. Eat them, bury
thorn, but do get rid of them, for
they are mortgaging your farm,
making slaves of your wives and
families, and sinking you deeper into
dobt every year they exist Then
fill the country with cows that will
respond to good feeding, that will
pull you out of debt and leave you a
good balance in ohe bank. 1 do not
extol one breed above another, for
circumstances alter cases, and it is
folly to disparage one noble breed of
cattle just because you happen to
prefer another. We have many
grand breeds to choose from; so I
say to you most earnestly, choose
the breed that suits you best, then
get the very best individuals of that
breed, and give them the very best
of food, and you will never regret it
Guinea Fowl*.
It is strange that so few guineas
are kept on the farm. They are
pretty fowls, peculiarly interesting
in their habits, indefatigable forag
ers and really excellent for table
use, as their flesh, though somewhat
dark in color, is, when properly
cooked, delicious, having a flavor
much resombling that of wild game.
For their egg production alone,
guineas are well worth keeping. The
hens begin to lav in March, if the
season is favorable and continue un
til frost, thus bridging over the time
when the common fowls are indulg
ing in their annual moult. Their
eggs are dark brown in color, having
remarkably thick shells, and though
smaller in size than those of chicken
hens, yet their greater richness of
flavor more than makes up for their
diminution in size. In the market
they are said to bring a superior
price, being much prized b> house
keepers for cooking purposes, espec
ially for making a nice cake. During
summer and the pleasant weather
of spring and fall, guineas prefer to
roost out of doors, and to spend
their days away from the house,
roaming over distant woodland and
meadows, where they make their
nests in secluded spots on the ground,
hollowing out a place in the loose
earth beneath low bushes or wide
spreading dock leaves. They are
monogamous by nature, preferring
but one mate and showing great af
fection for each other, though should
the flock not contain an even num
ber of sexes, two or more bens will
go with the same male, and all lay
in the same nest most harmoniously.
The hen does not usually set till late
in the season, the time of incubation
being four weeks, and though their
eggs hatch well, but few chicks are
raised, as the little ones are remark
ably tender and delicate, so sus
ceptible to chill from rain and dew
that if a flock aoubles itself in a
season, when left to its own devices,
it is about as much as one can ex
pect. Kaised in this way, the young
guineas are wild and shy as part
ridges, and when needed for the table
have to be hunted down like wild
game.—American Cultivator.
Keeping Healthy.
A thrifty animal full of robust
health is more capable of resisting
the poison of contagious diseases
successfully than an unthrifty animal.
With all classes of stock then in
order to maintain good health it is
essential that all reasonable care be
taken for that purpose. Give them
clean quarters, dry bedding, whole
some, nutritious food, pure water
and an opportunity to take abundant
exercise when necessary. The breath
ing of impure air, the drinking of
filthy water, of sleeping in a wot or
nasty bed and the eating of unwhole
some food are the principle causes of
disease. There is something in the
breeding, as some animals lack vigor
from the start; but even these can
often be brought through all right
with good care when a little negleot
would certainly cause a loss. But it
is not only in their ability to resist
disease that makes it desirable to
keep the stock thrifty. With good
health the animals will make a much
better gain in proportion to the
amount of food consumed and this df
itself is no inconsiderable item.
With good feeding a vigorous,
thrifty animal can readily be kept
gaining, while an unthrifty animal
is a constant care to keep up.—
Journal of Agriculture.
Cleaning the Sick Boom.
A sick room that needs cleaning
can bo made fresh and sweet without
sweeping and without dust by wiping
everything in it with a cloth wrung
out of warm water in which there
are a few drops of ammonia. The
rugs and draperies, though there
should not be any in the room, the
doctors tell us, may be put upon the
line for a thorough airing and wiped
in the same way. The feather
duster, which should be banished
because it does no real good any
. where except to stir up and redis
tribute the dust, is especially out of
place in the sick room, where there
may be, and doubtless often are,
germs of disease in the innocent
looking dust If a patient is in a
nervous state a screen may be placed
in front of the bed while the fresh
ening goes on. If the room can
only be heated by a stove the noise
of putting in coal can be deadened
by wrapping the coal in a paper be
fore putting on the fire.
Farm Notes.
It requires skill to market small
fruit properly.
It pays as well to grade poultry
before sending to market as it does
to grade any other article offered
for sale.
Ammonia may be prevented from
escaping from the manure pile by
occasionally applying dry earth to
the surface.
Success in gardening depends very
largely on having a rich, deep, well
broken soil. The garden spot should
be broken in the fall.
Pumpkins can be grown very
cheaply, and they are excellent for
milk cows and hogs. In fact they
are “good for man or beast”
Every farmer should raise at least
all the fruit his family can consume,
and the man who does not is not as
good a provider for his family as he
might or ought to be.
Alfalfa, says Gleanings, is one of
the most wonderful honey plants in
the world, and bee-keepers in the
vicinity of this plant have had more
uniform success than elsewhere. ‘
When the farm boy is given a
present of a pig or calf, let it be
with the distinct understanding that
he has to feed and care for it, and is
to have all the money it sells for.
Home Hints.
To beat the white of eggs stiff with
ease they should be cold, with a very
small pinch of salt added.
Cut a piece from the top of old kid
shoes and insert it inside the iron
holder you are going to make.
Add two tablespoonfuls of kero
sene to the pail of water with which
you wash grained or other varnished
furniture.
Make boiled starch with a weak
soapsuds male of white soap instead
of with clear water, and you will
have no difficulty with its sticking.
Egg shells are somewhat porous,
and, like butter and cheese, absorb
unpleasant odors. Therefore, eggs
should be kept in a sweet, clean, cool
place.
All floor and whisk brooms should
be thoroughly wet in scalding hot
brine before using them, it will ef
fectually prevent the straw from
breaking.
Do not wring wool underwear
through a wringer. Use the hands,
and shake it thoroughly before dry
ing. When perfectly dry fold it
smoothly, but do not iron. See if
the odor is not more agreeable than
when a hot sad iron has passed over
them.
To mend china or broken earthen
ware take a very thick solution of
gum arabic in water and stir into it
plaster of Paris until the mixture
becomes of the consistency of cream,
apply with a brush to the broken
edges of the ware and join together.
In three days the artiole cannot be
broken in the same place. Th •
whiteness of the cement makes it
doubly valuable,
Hr. H. H. Walla
Like a^Miracle
Pains in Side and Breast
Despaired of Help, but Hood-s
Sarsaparilla Cured.
"C. I. Hood ft Co., Lowell, Mass.:
“ l am glad to state my son's experience with
Hood s Sarsaparilla, as it was the means of nr.
Ing his life. Last fan he was taken ill with pains
In his breast and side. He had Hie best medical
attendance possible, and was treated by ths
doctors for some time, but did not realize anr
relief. He could not lay down day or night, and
Hood’s5^ Cures
our hopes were fast falling. My aged mother
advised a trial of Hood’s Sarsaparilla. Ho con*
jnenced taking the medicine, and to our
Great Astonishment,
one bottle cured him of Ills pains and restored
him to perfect health. This case has been looked
upon by many In this vicinity as nothing short
of a miracle.” H. H. 'Walls, Oswego, Kansas.
Hood’s Pills cure liver Ills, constipation
biliousness, Jaundice, sick headache, inHip..n^
In the Early Days
of cod-hver
oil its use ^
was limited “2
to easing^
those far
advanced in consumption.
Science soon discovered in
it the prevention and cure of
consumption.
Scott's Emulsion
of cod-liver oil with Hypo
phosphites of lime and soda
has rendered the oil more
effective, easy of digestion
and pleasant to the taste.
Prepared by Scott * fiowne, N. Y. 411Iroggiata
Ely's Dream Balm
Cleanses the Nasal
Passages, Allays Pain
and Inflammation,
Restores the Sense of
Taste and Smell.
Heals the Sores.
Apply Balm Into each nostril.
LY BROS.. 66 Warren St., N.Y.
The 2-ton Aermotor Steel Truck weighs 175 pounds, has 10 inch
wheels with 2-inch face. When three of the wheels are on the
floor, the other end one is about 1H inches from the nwr, tnos
enabling it to swivel easily. The body is 28 inches wide byW
inches long. A bottom board is eauily put in to make the bot
tom tight. If stakes are required, narrow boards can be putrn
slanting over the outer rail and under the in net one; or, ii *noe
boards .re tu*d. they will prac-ti^ily make *1
miking those aUket long enough and putting m ena on
the same way bulky material may be handled. —
We are making this offer to show a cample of ®a^ „*.*]«■
want to ahow how nice a thing we can make, ana^
we are in the matter of price*. Tins Steel Truck is f
•3.80 cash (2 cent* per poundl, and 2 cop.es of‘^vV0J‘4e£“^
No. 4, aa per conditiona named in No. 4. This is adr. _
. W. Id. I>OUGIdAS <3 SHOB
[equals custom work, costing
1 $4 to $6, best value lor the money
in the world. Name an^JV^
istamped on the bottom, wag
^ ->air warranted. Take no sub *
lute. See local papers for [uH
description of our co,"PI';e
u "ncs for ladies and gen
tlemen or send tor /i
1 ustrated Catalog**
giving in
structions
JITElTITrU*.- h°.Kt0h^
derby mail. Postage free. You can get c
bargains of dealers who push our shoes. —
Sent
out to
b« sproutea <m "■‘flf
No experience required.
Directions tor sprouting free. Address,
T. J.SKINNER.Columbus. Kansas;
LWLDouistAjr
SWEETS®
NGINES.
Threshers and Horse Po wers.
Write tor IUnstrsted CntaloKuo, rnal
M. RUMELY CO.. LAPQRTEJNg^
Patents. Trade-Marks.
....Advice oCW
Invention. Bend for “ Inventors Guide,—n
Examination and
a Patent”
Bend for “ Inventors’ <’Uiae «» • s
PATSICX 0TA2S2U.. WASBgW«'Jl
OMAHA bushoSIIs.
I flftn WAWMB.riWproperty.merchandW y
I llllll esUe or Exchange. '-‘ V, Amalia.
II UUU IlNeiB. 821 So. lath St., -
Tents, Awnings^^S|
TRUSSES,
bb o o» 2
1 RHBT. PURVjS
Hotel Dellone
Establl»l"‘d 1*‘°
1218 Harney Oman*
14th
lest M.O* » dsy home In Sjj!"8
inn a CAW*V. Eropriotom
Omaha. cor-■ »“
and Cap1™1 AJ,tU
u blir 11<.*m .
&&
