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About The frontier. (O'Neill City, Holt County, Neb.) 1880-1965 | View Entire Issue (Jan. 18, 1906)
C-d Stomach Makes Bad Blood. Ton can not make sweet butter In a foul, uncle* churn. The stomach serves as a churi^m which to agitate, work wp and disintegrate our food as it Is being digested. If it be weak, sluggish and foul the result will be torpid, sluggish liver and bad. impure blood. The ingredients of Dr. Pierce’s Golden Medical Discovery are just such us best servo to correct and cure all such de rangements. It is made up without a drop of alcohol in its composition; chem ically pure, triple-refined glycerine being used instead of the commonly employed alcohol. Now this glycerine is of itself a valuable medicine, instead of a deleteri ous agent like alcohol, especially in the cure of weak stomach, dyspepsia and the various forms of indigestion. Prof. Finley Ellingwood, M. D., of Dennett Medical College, Chicago, says of it: "In dyspepsia It serves an excellent pur pose. * * * It is one of the best manufact ured products of the present time In Its action upon enfeebled, disordered stomachs; especially If there Is ulceration or catarrhal gastritis (catarrhal Inflammation of stomach). It Is a most efficient preparation. Glycerine will rcllove many cases of pyrosis (heartburn) and excessive gastric, acidity. It is useful in chronic Intestinal dyspepsia, especially the flatulent variety, and In certain forms of chronic constipation, stimulating lire secre tory and excretory functions of the Intestinal glands ” When combined, in Just the right propor tions, with Golden Seal root, Stone root, Dlaok Chcrrybark, Queen’s root, Blood root and Mandrake root, or the extracts of these, as in Dr. Pierce’s Golden Medical Discovery, there can be no doubt of its fjreat efficacy in the cure of all stomach, Iverand Intestinal disorders and derange- j monts. These several Ingredients huvo the strongest endorsement In all such cases of such eminent medical leaders as Prof. R. Bartholow. M. I)., of JelTerson Med ical College. Chicago; Prof. Hobart A. Haro. M. D . of Medical Department, University of i Pa.: Prof. Laurence Johnson. M. I)., Medical Department, University of New York: I’rof. Edwin M. Halo, M. D.. Hahv.emann Medical College,Chicago: Prof. John M. Keudder, M. D. j and Prof. John King. M. I)., Authors of the American Dispensatory, and scores of others among the leading medical men of our land. Who can doubt the curative virtues of I • medicine the ingredients of which have such a jrrofeaalonal endorsement ? Constipation cured by Doctor Pierce’* Pleasant Pellets. One or two a dose. Tempers and Jewels, From Puck. "They say a fashionable crowd Is almost Invariably bad tempered.” "Much In the same way, I fancy, that fashionable people often wear paste jew els." "I don't quite sec that.” "Well, of course, where people's temper* ate bad they don’t so much mind losing them.” Had to Stay Home. Husband—"I thought you were going tc the meeting of the 'Society to Rescue Chi nese Women from the Cruelty of Foot Bandaging?’ " Wife—"I couldn't get my dress on.” "Why not?" “The cook was out and there was no one 1n thn house strong enough to lace my cor '#ets.“ A GUARANTEED CURE FOR PILES. Itching. Blind, Bleeding Protruding Piles. Druggists are suthorsed to refund money If PAZO OINTMENT falls to cure lu 0 to U days. 50c. THE CALL OF THE CANADIAN WEST. ^Tlie (ircatent Wheat Crop of the Continent. The year that has just closed has done a great deal towards showing the possibilities of Western Canada from an agricultural standpoint. The wheat crop has run very near to the 100,000, ■000-busbel limit that was looked upon as too sanguine an estimate only a abort time ago, and the area that hus been broken to fall wheat for the com ing harvest will go a long way to wards enabling the farmers of the "West to overlap on the 100,000,000 bushel estimate next year. And while the spring and winter wheat have been doing so well during the past few years the other cereals have been keep ing up with the procession. Rye and barley have made immense strides, and ijieas and flax have been moving stead Uly along. Dairying also has been suc cessfully carried on in the new prov inces, and in every stage the farmer bas been “striking it rich.” To such an extent has the success of the West taken hold of outsiders that the rush t>f Americans to Saskatchewan and Alberta, which was looked upon as marvelous last year, bids fair to be largely exceeded In 1000, and ns there are still millions of acres of free home steads available, which the building of the new railways will reuder accessi ble to the markets, new wheat lands will be opened up ere long. Amongst the first to avail himself of the oppor tunity presented will be the American settler. In a large number of Ameri can cities Dominion government agents are located, who are nble and willing to give the latest and best In formation In regard to the new dis tricts which the railways will open up, and there will be no abatement of the> rush to the Canadian prairies during the coming senson. Some time since a poet in the columns of the “Toronto Star” had the following stirring lines, which throb of the Westeru spirit: ) There’s a stir In the air, there’s a thrill through the land, there's a movement toward the Great i West; And the eyes of all men for the mo- ! rnent are turned to the country \ that we love the best; For 'tis Canada's day in the world's calendar, and to this merry toast let us sup: “Here's to the laud, the young giant of the North, Where the prairies are opening up!' ■ They come from the East and they come from the South—they come o'er the deep rolling sen— They come for they know they will dwell 'ueath a flag that makes all men equal and free. Then, ouce more the toast, and let* every man rise, and cheer 'ere he sips fiom the cup: "Here’s to the land, the young giant of the North, Where the ptalrles are opening up!” Foil SAl.t.—Missouri farms :corn7~bluo grass belt. Also 27,000 acres lead land. Southeast Mo. Jos. C. Denham, Colum bia, Uo. CHAPTER L.—Continued. Yet twice in his stamping rushes I found my opening; once the Ferara’s point passed his blade, and but for the ringed guard of the German long sword that stopped it when his parry failed, the steel would have passed through him. After this he crew war ier, having In mind, as I supposed, that other time when I had shown him that my wrist and arm could out weary his. Yet his savage onset never flagged for an Instant; and when the light fell up on his hideous face, I could see the fierce eyes glinling -ice a basilisk's, with no sign in them that my time was come to press him home. None the less; I did press him, inch by inch, driving him at each new clash of the steel a little deeper into the gloom that crowded close up’on the narrow circle of candle-light. He saw my object—to push him to unfamiliar ground where he might trip and stum ble In the darkness—and he strove furiously to defeat it. Yet he had no choice, and presently I had him among Ihe empty wine-butts, foining and par rying for his life and pouring out such blasphemies as would make your blood run cold. • Here the end came quickly. Being entangled among the broached butts he had no room to play skilfully. Ho pres ently It chanced that he caught his point In the chine of a cask und his blade snapped short at the hilt. With a yelling oath, hissing hot from the devil’s tlnimb-book, he snatched up the broken blade to fling and stick It Jav elin-wise in my shoulder; and then 1 saw the dull gleam of the candle-light on the barrel of a pistol. Had he aimed the pistol at me, I trust I should still have given him his gentleman's chance. But when I saw him level the weapon at my dear lady . . . . they came in one and the same heartbeat; the sword-thrust that fotind his life and took it; the crash of the pistol-shot echoing like a clap of thunder in the close vault, and pitchy darkness to draw its curtain over all. I know not how I reached her, pull ing the broken sword-blade from my shoulder as I ran; nor can I tell you how an upgushlng of thankfulness choked me when I found her unharmed by the bullet which had snuffed the candle out. She was in a most piteous state, now it was ail over; and though I charged it ail where I supposed it should belong— to the account of a natural womanly passion to cling to something in her moment of weakness—yet the blood ran quick In my veins when she-suf fered me to lead her out of that dis mal, smoking death-pit, she clinging to me the while so close that I could feel the warmth of her and the fluttering of her dear heart beneath my hand. She said no word, nor did I, till we were above stairs. We found the rooms on the main floor deserted by all save the blacks, who were clearing away the debris of the feast of leave-taking. In : the hall we came upon old Anthony, putting on the chain of the outer door. Here my lady drew apart from me. "Is my lord gone?" she asked. "Yis, missa. He say tell you’ he gvvlne tek It mighty hawd yo’ no come i ter gib him de sti-up-cup." “And my father?" “Gone to de lib'ry to wait to' Massy. Pengarbln: yis, missa.” She turned away, shuddering at this mention of the factor for whose com ing the master would wait long and in vain, and I heard her murmur; "Oh, ihe horror of this night!” But in a ( moment she came back to me, and wns her cool, calm self again. "For that I am here, alive and well, ] I thank you, Captain Ireton. Need I ; say more?” I cannot tell you what was in the words to make me hot with anger, as 1 I had but now been hot with love. But 1 the new wound in my shoulder was bleeding freely, and I would not let her see I was hurt; and if aught will 1 stanch a wound, ’tts anger. "You need not say so much," I re- 1 torted, bowing low. “You have spoken ' now and then of certain duties binding 1 upon those who are knotted up, ever so loosely, In the marriage bond; I 1 have my part In these as well as you, 1 Mistress Margery.” She bit her lip and was upon the 1 edge of tears. I saw what I had done ! and would curse the masterless tongue '■ that must needs add its word-thong to the night’s whip of scourgings. When she spoke again it was to say: l “This is you own house, Captain Ire ton; what will you do?" “One question first, Is Richard Jenni fer safe?" to " "Then, by your good leave, I shall do 1 what I came to do." She bent her head in acquiescence. ] "You will find the—the person whom you wish to see In,your old room In the north gable. Shall I have Anthony light you Up?" "No; I can find the way." My hand was on the stair rail when the cruel Irony of It struck me like a blow. She had planned the loosing of the bond In the very room where we had knelt to take the good father's blessing upon It. I stepped back, stumbled, X should say. for a curious weakness had come ; upon me, and drew her arm In mine. "We will go together. If you please, my lady. 'TIs only Just to me that you should hear what I must say to Father Matthleu." And so, dear heart! she bore with me to the last; and together we climbed the stair to come Into the upper cor ridor with the room of destiny at Its farther end. We came as far as the door; I mind It perfectly, for I remember marking that the wooden bar my father had put upon it was gone, and the iron brackets as well. But whilst I was groping for the latch there came a taste of blood in my mouth, and I heard my dear lady's voice as if she were calling to me across the eternal abysses. "Mon sieur John!—you are hurt!” And then, from a still remoter distance; "Oh. Father Matthleu—Dick! come quickly! He is dying!” LI. IN WHICH THE GOOD CAUSE * GAINS A CONVERT. WJiich one of you, my dears, faring across the frontier of the shadow land of dreams into the no less mysterious country of the real, cannot recall the struggle of the waking senses to knot up the gossamer filament of the night's fantasies with the coarser web of reality? For a time, longer or shorter as the dream thread holds, the angaries of the night are shuttled into the warp of •Ife. But presently comes the master weaver Reuson to point out this or that fantastic pattern; to bid the ear listen to the measured clacking of the day loom. and the eye to mark that the web of reality has grown never an Inch for all the shuttllngs of the sleeping time. Whereupon, full-blood con sciousness regains her sway, and you sigh, gladly or sorrowfully, and say, "Dear God. 'twaa but a dream I Ireamedi" Rome such awakening came to me on a day whereof I knew not the name or Its number in the calendar. I was lying in bed In my old room at Appleby Hundred. The armored soldier was glowering down upon me from his frame over the chimney piece; the great blackened clothes-press loomed darkly in Its cor ner; the show of curious china filled the shelves where my boyhood books had rested; and there was the same faint srnell of lavender in the bed linen that once—was it yesterday or months ago?—had minded me of my mother. When I sought to move me on the pil lows the dream seemed more titan ever dream-sure. The pain of a sword ; wound was grinding at my shoulder, j and I was bandaged stiff as I had been j that other day. So 1 said, as you have said, In like awakenings, "Dear God, 'twas but a dream!" and saying it, would turn my head to see if .Mistress Margery were j sitting where 1 last remembered her. She was there. In very deed and truth, ! deep in the hollow of the great chair of Indian wickerwork; and as before, the ; soft graying of the evening sky was mirrored in her eyes. I sighed, and there was ft catching of the breath at the bottom of it. Truly, j the wondrous dream had had its agon- ' ies, but there were also beatitudes to tip the scale the other way. For I had dreamed this sweet-faced watcher was my wife—in name, at least. ’Twas while 1 looked, minding not the ! eye-ache the effort cost, that she rose j and came softly to the bedside. She | said no word, but, as once in the ; dream-time, she laid a cool palm on my forehead. Weak as I was—and surely King David was not weaker when he wrote his bones were gone to water— the old love-madness of that other day came to thrill me at her touch, and I made as if I would take her hand and press It to my lips. "Nay, sir,” she said, with a swift re turn to sick-room discipline, "you must not stir; you have been sorely hurt." "Aye,” said I; "I do remember; ’twas In a duel with one Francis Falconnet. He said he would make you his—” Now the soft palm was laid on my Ups, and I kissed it HU she snatched it avv ay. “Ma foil” she cried; “1 think you are in a hopeful way to recover now, Cap tain Ireton. I do protest I shall go and send old Anthony to sit with you.” "Anthony?” said I; "he was in the dream, too, putting up the chain on the hall door." "Ah, mon Dleul" she said softly, as If to herself, "he Is wandering yet." At which, as If to try to help me; “ 'Twas no dream; you did see him putting on the chain.” "Did I? I made sure I dreamed it. But tell me another thing; was it not yesterday that I met Sir Richard Fal connet under the oaks In the wood Held and got this pair of redhot pincers in my shoulder?” She turned away, and if 1 ever saw a tear there was one trembling in her ' eyelashes. “ 'Twas three full weeks ago,” she said. “And it was not in the wood field —'twas in the wine cellar. Never tell me you do not remember; I—I could never—ah, Mother of Sorrows! that would be worse than all.” Here was a curious coll, but I could break one strand of It, at least, and so I did. * ' "X remember well enough,” I hastened to say. “But being here, and seeing you there in the great chair, carried me back to that other time, making all the interval stand as a dream. Have I 1 been ailing?” •'You have been terribly near to ! death, Monsieur John; so near that Dr. 1 Carew has twice given you over.” “No,” said I; "there was no fear of ‘ that. I am too like that man in the 1 old German folk tale who made a corn- ! pact with the Evil One, selling thereby his chance to die. Death wmuld not 1 take me as a gift, Mistress Margery, I i have tried him too often.” i "Hush!” she said; “ ’tls an ill thing to jest about. Why should you want to < die?” < "Rather ask why should I choose to i live. But this Is beside the mark. Y'ou l should have let me die, dear lady; but 1 since you did not, we must e'en make I the best of it.” She faced me with a smile that strug- 1 gled with some deeper stirring of the i heart; I knew not what. 1 “ ’Tls a monstrous doleful alternative, n’est-ce pas? And I must not let you' talk of doleful things; indeed, I must I not let you talk at all—'tls Dr. Carew's 1 order.” i So saying, she smoothed the counter pane and straightened my pillows; and 1 after giving me a great spoonful of some cordial that first set a pleasant glow alight in me and afterward'made me drowsy, she took post again in the hol low of the big chair and was so sitting when I fell asleep. This day’s awakening was the first of 1 many so nearly of a piece that I lost 1 the count of them; and sleep, deep and ■ dreamless for the better part, stole away the hours till the memory of that 1 tnch-by-inch return to health and strength is itself like the memory of the vaguest of dreams. By times when I awoke it was the bluff Dr. Carew bending over me to : dress my wound; at other times it was Margery come to tempt me with a bowl : of broth or some other kickshaw from the kitchen. Now and again I awoke to find Scipio or old Anthony standing 1 watch at my bedside; and once—but 1 that was after I was up and in my clothes and able to sit and drowse in the great chair—I opened my eyes to find that my company was the master 1 of the house. He was sitting as X had seen him sit | once before, behind a lighted candle at the little table with a parchment spread out under his bony hands. He was mumbling over the written words of it 1 when I looked, but at my stirring he 1 gave over and sat back in his chair to cross his thin legs and match his long l fingers by the ends, and wink and blink at me us though he had but now discov ered that he was not alone. "X give ye good even, Captain I reton.” he said, finally, rasping the greeting out at me as it had been a curse. "1 hope you've slept well." X said I had, and thanked him, once for the wish, and aga'n for his coming to see me. 1 know not how it was, but if there had been rancor in my former thoughts of him 'twas something abated now. 'Ye've had a nearhand escape this , time, sir,” he said, after a long pause. “One more or less of a good many since we were last met together in this room, Mr. Stair,” I would say. He muttered something to himself about the devil taking precious good care of his own; and I laughed. "That as it may be; but my being here this second time a pensioner on your bounty is by no good will of mine, I do assure you, sir." He sat nodding at me as if I had said a thing to be most heartily agreed to. But his spoken won* belied the nodi. "The ways of Providence are Inscrut able—something Inscrutable, Captain Ireton I make no doubt ye are suf ficiently thankful for all your mer cies.” “Why, as to that, there may be two ways of looking at It. As a soldier, I may justly repine at a fate which ties me here when I should be In the field." “Well said, sir: brawly said; 'tis the part of a good soldier to be ay wanting to be In the thick o’ the fighting. But now that ye’re a man of substance, Captain Ireton, ye will be owing other debts to our country than the one ye can pay with a hantle o’ steel.” “ 'Our country,’ did you say, Mr. Stair?’ I asked, feigning a surprise which no one knowing him could feel In very truth. “And what for no? ’Tis the birth land of some—yourself, for example, and the leal land of adoption for others —your humble servant, towlt. I’ve taken the solemn oath of allegiance to the congress, I'd have ye to know.” At this I must needs laugh out- i right. "Have you taken It one more time than you have foresworn It, Mr. Stair?” “Laugh as ye will,” he said, quite placably; “ye shall never laugh the peetriotlsrn out o' me. ’Tis little enough an old nian can do, but the precious cause o’' liberty will never have to ask that little twice, Captain Ireton." Since he would ever be on the win- ! ntng side, this foreshadowed good tid ings, indeed. So I would ask him straight what news there was. “Have they not told ye? ’Tis braw news,’ he chuckled. “Whilst ye were an your back, General Greene led Lord Cornwallis a fine dance all across the prov—the state, I mean, crooking his finger at him and sayin, ‘Come on, ye Icd-captaln of a tyarnt king, and when I’m ready I’ll turn and rend ye.’ And by the same token, that is just what he iid ■ the other day at Guilford court house.” “A victory?’ I wotild ask. “Well, not precisely that, maybe; ihey’re calling it a drawn battle. But I’m thinking ’tis Lord Cornwallis that’s Irawn. He's off to Wilmington, they ay, and I’m fain to hope we’ve seen he last o’ him and his reaving redcoats n these parts.” His words set me In a muse. I could lever make out what be would be at, idling me all this. But he had an ob ect, well defined, and presently It showed its head. “Ye’re a laird o’ the manor, now, I japtain Ireton, with none to gainsay ! fe," he went on. “So I’ve come to give ie an account o’ my stewardship. I nade no doubt, all along, ye’d come lack to your own when ye’d had your ling wl’ the old worldies, and so I’vs cept tab o’ the poor bit land for ye.” "Oh, you have?” said I, being so far )ut-brazened as to be Incapable of say ng more. “I have that—every plack and baw lee. 'Tis ten years come Michaelmas since I took over the charge o’ Appleby Hundred, and I’m ready -to account to re for every season's crop—when ye’ll my down the bit steward’s fee." "Truly,” said I, “you are an honest nan, Mr. Stair." Then, to humor him 0 the top of his bent: “Haphazarding a ruess, now; would this accounting eave a balance in my favor or in •ours?” He gave me a look like that of a ■ostermonger weighing and measuring he gullibility of his customer. “Oh, aye; I’m no saying there might I l't be a bit siller coming to me; a few lundred pounds, more or less—sterling, ! nan, sterling; not Scots,” he added lastiiy. And then, as if it were best to eave this nail as it was driven, he dianged the subject abruptly. "I’vo irought ye that last will and testa nent ye signed,” handing me the larchrnent. "No doubt you’ll let It itand; but when the bairns come, ye’ll vant to be adding a codicil or two.” Leaving the matter of the estate, I bought it time to cut the marrow of he bigger bone. So I said: “Let us be rank with each other In this, Mr. Stair. How much has your daughter old you of the matter between us?" “She's a jade!" he tasped, lapsing for 1 moment into his real self. But he re lovered his self-control Instantly. “Ye’d 10 expect a romantic bit lassie wl’ french blood in her veins to be confl lencing wl’ her old dried-up wisp of a ath^r, now, would ye? She’s no tell’t ne everything, I daresay.” "Then I will tell you the plain truth if it,” I said. “This marriage was nev ■r anything more than the form we all igreed It should be at the time; a nakeshift to serve a purpose. If you hlnk I would hold yoiiir daughter to t—” “Hut, tut. man! what will ye be layering about! 1 Ye’ll never cast the loor bit lassie off that way! Ye eanna, f ye would: her church will have a vord to say to that.” For all his aping the manner of the gnored father, I shrewdly suspected hat he knew more about the ins and mts of our affair than he owned to. ijevertheless, I was forced to meet him in his own ground. (Concluded Next Week. Never Too Late. A}ice Brown, in January McClure’s: rVilllnin stood gazing at her with a lew look on his face. It held some bit erness, some reproach of the pilfering ■ears. “Ellen," said he. “anybody but you’d augh at me. I ain’t had a thing as 've wanted it." "That’s the more reason for havin' t now," satd Ellen. “I never took any notice of you when ■ou was a girl growin’ up.” he went on, vith the angry passion of middle ige. “Well,” said Ellen, “I took notice of rou, William. You were the likeliest nan I ever see." A flush was on her •heck. Her eyes were wet. "An’ here I be, a man along in tears—" Ellen thought she heard the pantry loor. "William," said she firmly, as a nother recalls a grieving child, “you iear to me. There’s a good many ■ears gone by, but there's a good many elt—three hundera an’ sixty-five days n every one of ’em. You begin to mul lply them days, an' you'll begin to feel nore or less well off. I guess we’ll be ;ln to live by days now, William. We von't reckon by years.” William was looking at her in a itrange passion unknown to him. nlngled of hope and wonder. "Ellen, should you be willin’ to stay tore with me?" “I should be pleased to, William,” laid Ellen, as if she accepted an invi tation to singing school. Silk Made From Wood. New York Tribune: A plant for making il'.k. from wood, erected near Sydowsaue, | Jermany, is at present turning out fifty rounds of skein silk a day, which prod ict can be increased In quantity to 2,000 I pounds. The silk Is soft in texture and i ■reamy In color. Each thread is made up | >f eighteen single strands. A single i itrand Is hardly perceptible to the naked >ye. In strength It is but one-third that if the real silk. When woven into pieces :he new substitute Is said to have the ap pearance of real silk. The pulp under goes a chemical process and Is pressed through very fine tubes by hydaullo pres- | ■ure, forming the single strands which go | to make up th» thread. i WHEN TO SHOOT AT A DEER. ! Advice to the Still Hunter Regarding Stalking and Firing. From Outing. In still hunting stop very often and look with the greatest care in every direction up and across the wind, and remember to look low. Most persons do not look over the ground enough; they expect to see in plain sight some noble stag, with head erec.t and every sense on the alert—very much as he is pictured in the old sporting prints. What one generally does see—if he sees anything at all before it is too late—is the tip of a horn or the quick toss of a tail or a dark, shapeless mass apparently without beginning or end. You are just as apt to see the animal lying down as standing up, provided you have made a good stalk. A white-tail stands about as high as a small Shetland pony; a caribou is not very much taller, and the height for a moose may ap pear much less than it really is because he Is standing in a hollow, on soft ground, or because he is largely hidden by bushes. I.ook also for peculiar spots of colon look long in the dark places and try not to mistake for foliage the rump, neck or side of your game. Look also, of course, for movement; the small tree trunk behind that big log suddenly disappears and an other one lakes its place—this may mean that the buck has become suspicious and is stamping at you, lifting first one fore leg and then the other and bringing each down as quietly and smartly as he can. When you do come up with the animal you want to prepare to shoot at once, but do not actually tire until you are ready. If you have approached well ho will not know of your presence and you can take your time. Get as close as you can, look him over thoroughly to be sure you want him, and fire for the shoulder or for the neck if you are sure of yourself. A good deal of buck fever or nervous ness is caused by the fact that you think he sees you or is about to start; whereas, as a matter of fact, your seeing him at all probably shows that you have him at a disadvantage—and he doesn't know it. Take all the time you can—watch his ears; he will begin to use them the instant he hears any sound or gets a telltale puff of air; then let him have It. With moose keep on shooting until your animal is down; take another shot at a caribou If he doesn’t seem to feel sufficiently hurt at your first, and keep your eyes on master white-tail just as long as you can—if he runs off with his big brush elevated the chances are you will not see him again, but If his tall is down he probably won't go far. FOUR YEARS OF AGONY. Whole Foot Nothing but Proud Flesh —Had to Use Crutches—“Cuticura Remedies the Best on Earth.” “In the year 1899 the side of my right foot was cut off from the little toe down to the heel, and the physician who had charge of me was trying to sew up the side of my foot, but with no success. At last my wliole foot and way up above my calf was noth ing but proud flesh. I suffered untold agonies for four years, and tried dif ferent physicians and all kinds of oint ments. I could walk only with j crutches. In two weeks afterwards I saw a change in my limb. Then I began using Cuticura Soap and Oint ment often during the day and kept it up for seven months, when my limb was healed up just the same as if I : never had trouble. It is eight month* now since I stopped using Cuticura Remedies, the best on God's earth. I m working at the present day. after live years of suffering. The cost of , Cuticura Ointment and Soap was only CG: but the doctors' bills were more like f«. John M. Lloyd. 71S S. Arch j Avp.. Alliance, Ohio. June 27. 1905.” Safest P!.-C3: An Elevator. From t're Rochester Poit-Exprers. Many r- r nns have an objection to rid ing In elevators, or, more properly spoalt this oo.'cetion at- Gild he c us.«ed as a feeling: cf dread or fear; but according to he superintendent of a big cf ice building: In 1 hiladelph.a the safest place for a pei ron to Ve If in an elevator—that is, statis tically speaking:. In the set cf elevators for which statistics have been kept by the Fuperinterdent there has been an average transportation of 2,4CO,GCO persons each ; ear for seven years, an aggregate of 16, rG0,000, and of this number but one person has been injured, a.nd’that injury did not iesult fatally. $’00 Reward, $!00. The readers of this paper will i>e pleased fo learn that there is at least one dreaded disease that science lias hen tibia to cure in all its stages, and that is Catarrh. Hail's Catarrh Cfcre is the only positive cure now known to the medical fraternity. Catarrh being a constitutional disease. >eqnires a constitutional treatment. Hall's Catarrh Cure is taken internally, nothin' directly upon the binod and mucous surfaces of the system, .thereby destroying the foundation of the disease, and pining the patient strength by building up the constitution and assisting nature in doing its work. The proprietors have so much faith In its cura tive powers that they offer One Hundred Dollars for any ease thnt It fails to cure. Send for list of testimonials. Address F. J. CHENEY & CO., Toledo. O. Sold by Druggists. T5c. Take Hall's Family Plll» for constipation. John Burns of Battersea. From London Truth. For the first time in our history a workingman becomes a cabinet minis ter. and a workingman of an advanced type of thought, who has been and to some extent still is a terror to the re actionary and privileged classes. Without any intention to disparage his colleagues, Mr. Burns is the most conspicuous figure in the ministry. Workingmen have before him won the respect of the house of commons and reached government posts by sheer hierit. Others have gained great influ ence outside parliament by their mere , eloquence, though I doubt if any of them have equalled him in the gift. But not has so deeply impressed all classes with his political sagacity and practical grasp of affairs; and it is a good omen for the future of democracy that the first workingman to become a minister of the crown is a man of such abilities arid character._ I THE BEST COUGH CURE l •---—-• | A well-known Rochester lady ^ j y says; "I stayed in the Adirondaeks, y » away frorp friends and home, two g 2 winters before I found that by y taking 4 I Kemp’s Balsam \ ® I cou'.d subdue the cough that J 1 drove me away from home and 7 4 seemed likely to never allow me 4 • to live there in winter.” • 7 Kemp’s Balsam will cure any 7 4 cough that can be cured by any 4 5 medicine. JJ 7 Sold by all dealers at 25c. and 500' 7 DID A WORLD OF COOD Dr. Williams’ Pink Pills Cure Heart Pains Dizzy Spells and Weakness. Easy to get, hard to get rid of; that ifa what most sufferers thiuk of dyspepsia. They are astonished when their stomach begins to trouble them seriously. They had been eating hurriedly aud irregularly for a long time, to be sure, but they supposed their stomachs quite used to that. Some people know that the strength which the weak stomach needs, aud for the lack of which the whole body is suf fering, can be found surely aud quickly in Dr. Williams’ Pink Pills. In hun dreds of instances these pills bavo suc ceeded where other remedies failed. “My indigestion,” said Mr. J. R. Mil ler, of Dayton, Va., “came in the first place from the fact that a few years ago I worked a grpat deal at night, and ate at any odd hour whenever the chance came, aud always very hurriedly. One day I found myself a victim of terrible dyspepsia. It kept me miserable all the time for several years. “ I always had a great deal of distress after eating, and when I got up from my sleep my stomach would he so weak that it would hardly take any food. I had very uncomfortable feelings about my heart, and was dizzy and, whenever I stooped over and then straightened up, ' my eyes would be badly blurred. “I read the statements of several per sons who had got lid of obstinate stom ach troubles by using Dr. Williams’ Pink Pills. I bought some and they did me a world of good. They acted promptly and did just what was claimed for them. I have no more distress af ter meals; the had feeling has gone from the region of my heart; the alarming dizzy spells have disappeared, and I am strong again.” Dr. Williams’ Pink Pills are sold by all druggists and by the Dr. Williams Medicine Co., Schenectady, N. Y. Miracles of Chinese Cooking. “I once attended a mandarin’s banquet in Pekin,” said the ex-consul, “and it was the most remarkable feast I ever sat down to. “One course appeared to be plain hard boiled eggs. The eggs came on unadorned. Their shells were intact. And yet, bjr Jove, when we broke into them, we founcl that they contained nuts and sweetmeats. “Another course was whole oranges with unbroken skins. Yet inside the oranges were five different kinds of jelly. “The Chinese guests took these two courses as a matter of course, but I, in amazement, asked our host how on earth they had been concocted. He smiled and shook his head. “ 'Ah, that,’ he said, ‘is my cook’s se cret.’ ” The more we know of our ills, the J easier and sooner relief will come. Pains and aches of the flesh, joints and muscles are | ■ I v i j The mission of the Oid-Monk j Cure St. Jacobs Oil is to cure, and the world knows it does it safely and surely. Price. 25c. end 50c. MiiiilFll -GIVES Absolutely Free to Every Settler One Hundred and Sixty — Acres ol Lan ti'n — WESTERN CANADA Land adjoining this can be purchased from rail way and laud companies at from $6 to $10 per acre. On This Land This Year Has Bee* Predated Upwards of Twenty-Five Bushels of Wheat to the Acre U is also the best of grazing land, and for mixed farming it has no superior on the continent. Splendfd climate, low taxes, railways conveni ent, schools and chyrches close at-hand. For Mfweatieth Century Ca«ada” and low railway rates Apply for faform -tton to Superintend ntof Immlgr* lion, Ottawa. Canada, or to E. T. Holme*, 816 Jaekaon St., St. Paul, Minn.; J. M. MacLachlan, Box 116 Watoo town. South DakotA, and W. V. Bennett, 801 Newr York Life Building, Omaha, Nab , Authorised Government Agents. Pleas# say where yoa saw this advertisement, FOR WOMEN troubled with ills peculiar to ■_ 'heir sex, used as a douche is nxarve y suc cessful. Thoroughly cleanses, kills disease germs, Jtops discharges, heals inflammation ana local loreness. Paxtine is in powder form to be dissolved in purs water, and is far more cleansing, heaPng, germicidal hud economical than liquid antiseptics for all TOILET AND WOMEN’S SPECIAL OSES For sale at druggists, GO cents a box. Trial Box and Book of Instructions Free, tsc R. Paxton Com rant Boston. IIaPo* 3 vra in uivU war. 15 adiudicatim: claims, attv ainofe s§ Hi ip SIOUX CITY P’T’G CO., 1.121—3, 190S