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About The frontier. (O'Neill City, Holt County, Neb.) 1880-1965 | View Entire Issue (Oct. 21, 1909)
MUNYON’S Eminent Doctors at Your Service Free Not a Penny to Pay for the Fullest Medical Examination. It you are In doubt as to the cause of your disease, mail us a postal re questing a medical examination blank. Our doctors will carefully diagnose /our case, and If you can be cured you will be told so; If you annot be cured you will be told so. Ton are hot obligated to us In any way, for this advice is absolutely free. Tou are at liberty to take our advice or not, as you see fit. Munyon's, 63d and Jefferson streets, Philadelphia. Pa. Outraged. Prom the Washington Star. Hiram Maxim, the Inventor of the nplen 49id "silencer," said In the course of a re eent interview In New York: "That lnfringment case, too. was won. The opposition had a lot of witnesses, but they were all badly coached. As badly coached, Indeed, as- But listen: "A phrenologist visited a village. He offered to examine any one’s bumps fpr a dime. A burly blacksmith’s helper said lie would have his bumps examined, and •ls he took hie place, another man whis 2>ered in the phrenologist's ear: •' ‘He's very fond of veal.’ “At this hint the phrenologist, nodded gratefully. He then read out the black smith's bumps, crediting him with all sorts of virtues, and Anally he said In a loud, positive tone: “ ‘Now, I come to your diet. Gents, If thers Is one thing In the world our sub ject dotes on, It Is veal. Why— “But the sentenco was never Anlshed, The bjacksmlth rose suddenly and knocked the phrenologist down. " 'Blast ye!' he roared. 'What’s It got to do with you If I did steal a calf?' ” Rough cn Rats fools the rats and *nlce, but never fools the buyer. The secret Is, you (not the maker) do the {mixing. Take a hint, do your own mix-, lng; pay for poison only, then you get1 results. It's the unbeatable extormlna-i *or. Don’t die in the house. 16c, 26c, 76c. St UP-TO-DATK. Hostess (at Christmas party)—Tommy, won'* yau have soma mors Ice creamT Tommy (aged ©—No; but I'd give a dollar for a qulat am oka. And It 8urely la. From Everybody's Magaslne. Teacher was telling her class little Stories In natural history and she asked' If anyone could tell her what a ground ,hog was. Up went a little hand, wav* flng frantically. "Well, Carl, you may tell us what a groundhog Is." "Please, ma’am, It’s sausage." EWvc Serna ads gexvtXy yd \>tom\% exxVXve \>owe\s; cXeaases tXxc system ejfcdviaXXy; assists oxxom overcoming WbxXnd consXxipaXxoa pcmanenXYy. To CetWs beneJ\ci\o\ effects dtwaysX)uy XXxe Rename, MANUFOCTunCD BV THE CALIFORNIA Fig Syrup Co. SOLD BY LEADING DRUGGISTS 50’A BOTTLE For Liver, Bladder, Kidney and Stomach Troubles TAKE Gold Medal Haarlem Oil Capsules "Odorless and Tasteless.” Yon will find that relief follows the use of the first capsule. This time-honored and effec tive home remedy* has a reputation of over , ©t 9<DLD MKDAI-HAA* 1 LEM OIL is the ONLY genuine. Holland Medicine Co., Scranton, Pa. Dear Sira : I mu«t «ay that your Gold Med- ' ad Haarlem Oil » the greatest medicine in tha ■world. Mv back was in a bad fix for six weeks, and I have been taking your Haarlem •Ji jWO “d tha pain it all gone. I anil do all I can for you. Wishing you good luck, I remain Your friend, 1 ANTHONY C. MORAN, _ _ _ Hastings on-Hudton V. O. Box 201, Feb. 19. 1909. New York Capsules 25 and SO cents. Bottles ISc and ' •Sc, at all druggists. HOLLAND MEDICINE CO.. •ale Importers Scrantoa. Pa, ■ If your Druggist cannot supply yoa, writs us direct. fejHE WILD GEE Stanley J.Weyman. (Copyright, 1909, by Stanley J. Wcyman.) CHAPTER JX—Continued. Colonel John reflected that Uucle Click was no romantic young person to pluy at mystery for effect. There was a call for secrecy, therefore. The O’Beirnes slept in a room divided from his only by a thin partition; and to gain the stairs he must pass the doors of other chambers, all inhabited. As softly as he could, and as quickly, he dressed himself. He took his boots in his hand; his sword, perhaps from old habit, under his other arm; in this guise he crept from the room and down the dusky staircase. Old Darby and an underling were snoring In the cub, which in the daytime passed for a pan try, and both by day and by night gave forth a smell of sour corks and mice; but Colonel John slid by the open door as noiselessly as a shadow, found the back door—which led to the fold-yard —on the latch, and stepped out Into the I cool, dark morning, into the sobering freshness and tiie clean, rain washed air. The grass was still gray hued, the world still colorless arid mysterious, the house a long black hulk against a slowly lightening sky. Colonel John paused on the door step to draw on his boots, then he picked his way delicately to the leather hung wicket that broke the hedge which served for a fence to the gaiden. On the right side of the wicket a row of tall Florence yews, set within the hedge, screened the pleasaunce, such as it was, from the house. Under the lee of these he found Uncle Ulick striding to and fro and biting his Anger nails in his impatience. He wrung the Colonel’s hand and looked into his face. "You’ll do me the Justice, John .Sullivan,’’ he said, with a touch of passion, "that never in my life have I been over hasty? Eli? Will you do mo that?” "Certainly, Ulick,” Colonel John an swered, wondering much what was coming. "And that I’m no coward, where it's not a question of trouble?” "I’ll do you that Justice, too,” the Colonel answered. He smiled at the reservation. The big man did not smile. “Then you’ll take my word for it,” he replied, “that I’m not speaking idly when I say you must go.” Colonel John lifted his eyebrows. "Go?” he answered. “Do you mean now ?” "Ay. now. or before noon!” Uncle Ulick retorted. "More by token,” he continued, with bitterness, “it’s not tliat you might go on the Instant that I’ve brought you out of our own house as if we were a couple of rapparees or horse thioves, but that you might hear it from me who wish you well, in stead of from those who nmybe'll not put It so kindly, nor be so wishful for you to be taking the warning they give.” "Is it Flavia you’re meaning?” “No; and don't you be thinking it,” Uncle Ulick replied with a touch of heat. "Not the least bit of it, John Sullivan! The girl, God bless her, is as honest as the day, if” "If she's not very wise,” Colonel John said smiling. "You may put it that way if you please. For the matter of that, you'll be thinking she’s not the only fool at Morristown, nor the oldest, nor the big gest. But the blood must run slow, and the breast be cold, that sees the way the Saxons arc mocking us and locks the tongue in silence. And sure there’s no more to be said but Just this—that there’s thoso here you’ll be wise not to see! And you'll get a hint to that end before the sun’s high." "And you'd have me take It?" “You'd be mad not to take it!” Uncle Ullck replied frowning. "Isn’t It for that I'm out of my warm bed, and the mist not off the lake?” “You'd have me give way to them and go?” “Faith and I would!” "Would you do that same yourself, Ulick?" "For certain ." “And be sorry for it afterward!" "Not the least taste in life!” Uncle Ullck asseverated. "And be sorry for it afterward,” Col onel John repeated quietly. "Kinsman, come here.” he continued, with unusual gravity. And taking Uncle Ullck by the arm he led him to the end of the gar den, where the walk looked on the lake and bore some likeness to a roughly made terrace. Pausing where the black masses of the Florence yews, most funereal of trees, still sheltered their forms from the house, he stood silent. Here and there on the slopes which faced them a cotter's hovel stood soli tary in its potato patch or its plot of oals. In more than one place three or four cottages made up a tiny hamlet, from which the smoke would presently rise. To English eyes the scene, these oases in the limitless brown of the bog, had been wild and rude, but to Colonel John it spoke of peaco and safety and comfort, and even of a narrow plenty. The soft Irish air lapped It, the dis tances were mellow, memories of boy hood rounded off all that was unsight ly or cold. He pointed here and there with his hand and with seeming irrelevance. "You'd be sorry afterward," he said, "for you'd think of this, Ulick. God forbid 1 should deny that even for this too high a price may be paid. But if you play this away in wantonness—if that which you are all planning come about, and you fail, as they failed in Scotland throe years back, it is of this, it is of the women and the children un der these roots that will go up in smoke, that you'll be thinking, Ulick, at the last! Believe me or not, this is the last thing you'll see. It's to a bur den os well as an honor you're born where men doff caps to you; and it’s thut burden will lie the black weight on your soul at the last. There's old Darby and O’Sullivan Og’s wife—and Pat Mahony and Judy Mahoney's four sons, and the three Sullivans at the I landing, and Phil the crowder and the seven tenants at Killabogue—it’s of them, it's of them"—as he spoke his finger moved from hovel to hovel— “and their like I'm thinking. You cry them and t..ey follow, for they’re your folks born. But what do they know of England or England’s strength, or what Is against them, or the certain end? They think, poor souls, because they land their spirits and pay no dues, and the justices look the other way— they think the black Protestants are afraid of them! While you and I, you and I know, Ullck." ho continued, dropping his voice, " 'tis because we lie bo poor and distant und small, they give no heed to us! We know! And ! that’s our burden.” The big man's face worked. He threw out his arms. "God help us!" he cried. “He will. In His day! I tell you again, as I told you the hour I came, I, who have followed the wars for 20 years, there is no deed that has not its reward when the time is ripe, nor a cold hearth that Is not paid for a hundredfold!" Uncle Ulick looked sombrely over the lake. "I shall never see It," he said. "Notwithstanding, I'll do what I can to Quiet them—if it be not too late." j “Too late?" I “Aye, too late, John. But anyway, I I’ll be minding what you say. On the i other hand, you must go, and this very ; day that ever Is.” "There are some here that I must not he seeing?” Colonel John said, shrewdly. “That's it.” “And If I do not go, Ulick? What then, man?” "Whisht! Whisht;” the big man cried in unmistakable distress. “Don’t say tho word! Don't say the word, John, dear.” “But I must say it,” Colonel John answered, smiling. “To be plain, Ulick, here I am and here I stay. They wish me gone because I am in the way of their plans. Well, and can you give me a better reason for stay ing?” What argument Ulick would have used, what he was opening his mouth to say, remains unknown. Before he could reply the murmur of a voice near at hand startled them both. Uncle Click's face fell, and the two turned with a single movement to see who came. They discerned, in the shadow of the wall of yew, two men, who had JuBt passed through the wicket into the garden. The strangers saw them at the same moment and were equally taken by surprise. The foremost of tho two, a sturdy, weatherbeaten man, with a square, stern face and a look of power, laid his hand on his cutlass—he wore a broad blade in place of the usual rapier. The other, whom every line of his shaven face, as well as his dress, proclaimed a priest—and perhaps more than a priest—crossed himself and muttered something to his companion. Then he came forward. “You take the air early, gentlemen,” he said, the French accent very plain in his speech, “as we do. If I mistake not,” he continued, looking with an easy smile at Colonel John, “your Protestant kinsman, of whom you told me, Mr. Sullivan? I did not look to meet you, Colonel Sullivan; but I do not doubt you are man of the world "Shall not we too help her?** "We cannot.” It may be. Still, let us do our duty," Colonel John replied. He was very grave. Things were worse, the plot was thicker, than he had feared. Uncle Uiick groaned. "You'll not be bidden?” he said. "Not by an angel,” Colonel John an swered, steadfastly. "And I’ve seen none this morning, but only a good man whose one fault In life is to answer to all men. 'Sure, and I will!’ ” Uncle Uiick started as if the words stung him. "You make a Jest of It!” he said. "Heaven send we do not sor row for your willfulness. For my part, I’ve small hope of that same.” He opened the door, and, turning his back upon his companions, went heavily and without any attempt at concealment, past the pantry and up the stairs to his room. To answer "yes" to all comers and all demands Is doubtless, in the lan guage of Uncle Uiick, a mighty conven ience and a great softener of the angles of life. But a time comes to the most easy when he must answer "no," or go open eyed to ruin. Then he finds that, from long disuse, the word will not shape itself; or, if uttered. It is taken for naught. That time had come for Uncle Uiick. Years ago his age and experience had sufficed to curb the hot blood about him. But he had been too easy to dictate while he might, and today he must go the young folks’ way, seeing all too plainly the end of it. But Colonel John was of another kind and another mind. Often In the> Swedish wars had he seen a fair coun try-side changed in one day Into a waste, from the recesses of which naked creatures with wolfish eyes stole out at night, maddened by their wrongs, to wreak a horrid vengeance on the passing soldier. He knew that the fairest parts of Ireland had under gone such a fate within living memory. Therefore he was firmly minded, as one man could be, that not again should the corner of Kerry under his eyes, the corner lie loved, the corner entrusted to him, suffer that fate. Yet. when he descended to break fast, his face told no tale of his thoughts, and he greeted with a smile the unusual brightness of the morning. Nor. ns he sunned himself and inhaled with enjoyment the freshness of the air, did any sign escape him that he marked a change. But he was not blind. Among tho He detected ragged fellows who were not cripples. enough to excuse, if you cannot ap prove, the presence of the shepherd among his sheep. The law forbids, but” —still smiling, he finished the sentence with a gesture in the air. “I approve all men," Colonel John answered, quietly, "who are in their duty, father.” “But wool and wine that pay no duty?” the priest replied, turning with a humorous look to his companions, who stood beside him unsmiling. “I’m not sure that Colonel Sullivan extends the same indulgence to free traders, Captain Maehin.” Colonel John looked closely at the man thus brought to his notice. Then he raised his hat courteously. “Sir.” he said, “the guests of the Sullivans, whoever they be, are sacred to the Sullivans.” Uncle Ulick’s eyes had met the priest’s as eyes meet in a moment of suspense. At this he drew a deep breath of relief. “Well said,” he mut tered. “Bedad, it is something to have seen the world!” "You have served under the king of Sweden, I believe?’’ the ecclesiastic continued, addressing Colonel John with a polite air. He had a book of offices in his hand, as if his purpose in the garden had been merely to read the service. “Yes.” "A great school of war, I am told?” “It may be called so. But I inter rupt you. father, and with your per mission I will bid you good morning. Doubtless we shall meet again.” “At breakfast, I trust,” the ecclesias tic answered, with a certain atr of In tention. Then he bowed and they re turned it, and the two pairs gave place to one another with ceremony, Colonel John and Ulick passing out through the garden wicket, while the strangers moved on toward the walk which looked over the lake. Here they began to pace up and down. With his hand on the house door Uncle Ulick made a last attempt. "For God's sake, be easy and go,” he mut tered, ills voice unsteady, his eyes iixod on the other's, as if he would read his mind. “Leave us to our fate! You cannot save us—you see what you see, you know what It means. And, for what I know, you know the man. You’ll make our end the blacker.” “And the girl?” Uncle Ulick tossed his hands in the air. “God help her!” he said. cripples and vagrants who lounged about the entrance he detected six or eight ragged fellows whose sunburnt faces were new to him and who cer tainly were not cripples. In the door way of one of the two towers that fronted him across the court stood O’Sullivan Og, whittling a stick and chatting with a sturdy idler in seafar ing clothes. The Colonel could not give his reason, but he had not looked twice a t these two before he got a notion that there was more in that tower this morning than the old ploughs and the broken boat which commonly filled the ground floor above. Powder? Treas ure? He could not say which or what; but he felt that the open door was a mask that deceived no one. And there was a stir, there was a bustle in the court; a sparkle in the eyes of some as ft'iey glanced slyly and under their lashes at the house, a lilt in the tread of others as they stepped to and fro. Some strange change had fallen upon Morristown and imbued it with life. He caught the sound of voices in the house, and he turned about and en tered. The priest and Captain Machin had descended and were standing with Uncle Ulick warming themselves be fore the wood fire. The McMurrough, the O’Belmes and two or three strang ers—grim-looking men who had fol lowed. a glance told him, the trade he had followed—formed a group a little apart yet near enough to be addressed. Asgill was not present for Flavia. “Good morning, again." Colonel John said. And he bowed. ‘"With all my heart. Colonel Sulli van,’’ the priest answered cordially. And Colonel John saw that he had guessed aright; the speaker no longer took the trouble to hide his episcopal cross and chain or the ring on his Anger. There was an increase of dig nity, too, in his maner. His very cor diality seemed a condesension. Captain Machin bowed silently, while The McMurrough and the O’Reirnes looked darkly at the Colonel. They did not understand; it was plain that they were not in the secret of the morning encounter. "I see O’Sullivan Og is here,” the Colonel said, addressing Uncle Ulick. "That will be very convenient." “Convenient?” Uncle Ulick repeated, looking blank. "We can give him the orders as to the Frenchman's cargo,” the Colonel said, calmly. (Continued Next Week) Steamboating on the Missouri. From tlie Technical World Magazine. If difficulty has been experienced in navigating the Missouri. It is because through long disuse its bed has become blocked in places with trees und snags. Tills lias caused the water to seek other channels. But the government has wakened to the necessity of clearing away these obstacles. Government snagboats have been working for near ly a year between Kansas City und Kt. Louis. Last year business men of Kan sas City organized a boat company and successfully carried freight and pas sengers between the two cities. There was no profit in the business for the reason that the boats could run only In the daytime, and even then they had to be guided carefully and slowly. But the experiment proved to the satisfac tion of congress that the river is navi gable and needed only the attention that any other self-respecting river should have. It was the *tronge»t in fluence In getting an appropriation to pay for Improvement work, and it opened the way for the large scheme of transportation now maturing in Kansas City, which contemplates the organizing of a transportation company with a capital of Jl.000,000. The Need of Farmers. From the New York Times. A Georgia newspaper commenting on the cry from one of the counties of that hlg state for 1,000 more farmers, re marks that there are 146 counties in the state which need as many. All the eastern and northern states sadlv need . good farmers, competent, intelligent, up to date men to till the soil properly and get from it the largest and best crops with the least possible expendi ture of toll and money. New York state needs farmers of the best sort as badly as Georgia needs them, though perhaps not so many. Have Heat Brought To You When your bed-room, bath-room or dining room is chilly, you may have heat brought to you In just th« degree you desire. It is easy when you have a PERFECTION Oil Heater (Equipped with Smokeless Dsvlos) available. Place the heater where the cold is most annoying, strike a match. . No fuss—no flurry—mo smell—and, above all, no smoke, even though you turn the wick as high as it will go. The temperature runs up quickly. In ten minutes the average sized room glows with cheer and comfort that genial heat brings— the heat that is smokeless and odorless. Automatic Smokeless Device which automatically locks and absolutely prevents smoke, by keeping the wick out of the smoke zone, is on the Perfection only. The solid brass font holds four quarts, which gives a full-head flame tat nine hours. Flame burns from side of wick instead of from the top. The brass wick carrier does not rust and clog the wick. Damper top, cool handle. Aluminum metal window frames that heat cannot tarnish. Japan or nickel finish. Various styles and finishes. Every Dealer Everywhere. If Not At Yoors, Write for Descriptive Circular to the Nearest Agency of the STANDARD OIL COMPANY (Incorporated) Professor James’ Confidence. Extremely signlflant, following upon European scientists' acceptance of the supernatural phenomena in the seances of the Italian medium, Eusapia Palla dino, as outlined in this column the other day, are the admissions of Will iam James, for 35 years professor of philosophy at Harvard and recognized as one of the greatest living phycholo glsts. Professor James contributes “The Confidences of a Psychical Re searcher” to the current issue of Mc Clure’s. There is “something in” these phenomena, he declares, rather unwill ingly, and concludes that it is in this field of phychical research that the greatest scientific conquests of the coming generation will be achieved. Some excerpts from Professor James’ article follow: For the 25 years I have been in touch with the literature of psychical research, and have had acquaintance with numerous “researchers.” I have also spent a good many hours (though far fewer than I ought to have spent) in witnessing (or trying to witness) phenomena. Yet I am theoretically no “further" than I was at the beginning; and I confess that at times I have been tempted to believe that the cre ator has eternally intended this de partment of nature to remain baffling, to prompt our curiosities and hopes and suspicions all in equal measure, 30 that, although ghosts and clairvoyances and raps and messages from spirits, are always seeming to exist and can never be fully explained away, they also can never be susceptible of full corroboration. I wish to go on record for the pres ence, in the midst of all the humbug, of really Supernormal knowledge. By this I mean knowledge that cannot be traced to the ordinary sources of in formation—the senses namely, of the automatlst. In really strong mediums this knowledge seems to be abundant, though it is usually spotty, capricious and unconnected. Really strong medi ums are rarities; but when one starts with them and works downwards into less brilliant regions of the automatic life, one tends to interpret many Plight but odd coincidences with truth as pos sibly rudimentary forms of this kind of knowledge. Out of my experience, such as it is (and it is limited enough) one fixed conclusion dogmatically emerges, and that is this, that we with our lives are like islands in the sea, or like trees in the forest. The maple and the pine may whisper to each other with their leaves, and Conanicut and Newport hear each other’s foghorns. But the trees also commingle their roots in the darkness underground, and the islands also hang together through the ocean’s bottom. Just so there is a continuum of cosmic consciousness, against which our individuality builds but ac cidental fences, and into which our several minds plunge as into a mother sea or reservoir. Our “normal’’ consciousness is circumscribed for adoption to our external earthly en vironment, but the fence is w’eak in spots, and iitf .1 influences from beyond leak In, showing the otherwise unveri fiable common connection. Vast, indeed, and difficult is the in quirer’s prospect here, and the most significant data for his purpose will probably be lust these dingy little medlumistic facts which the Huxleyan minds of our time find o unworthy of their attention. But when was not the science of the future stirred to its con quering activities by the little rebel lious excop ons to the science of the present? Hardly, as yet, has the sur face of the facts called "psychic” be gun to be scratched for scientific pur poses. It is through following these facts, I am persuaded, that the great est scientific conquests of the coming generation will be achieved. The following mixture makes a bran bag that adds refreshment to the bath; A pint and a half of new bran, three quarters of a pound of almond meal, eight ounces of powdered orris root and five ounces of grated castile soap. Make the bags five or six inches square and fill each with three table spoonsful of the mixture. The quantity given will supply seven bags. The way some skeletons are padded up and painted when there are guests around, would indicate that they had broken out of the closet and into a modern boudoir. Most women prefer to be bossed rather than worked. A NOTRE DAME LADY'S APPEAL. To all knowing sufferers of rheumatism, whether muscular or of the joints, apiatlca, lumbago*, backache, pains In the kidneys or neuralgia pains, to write to her for a home treatment which has repeatedly cured all of these tortures. She feels It her duty to send if. to all sufferers FR»K. You cure yourself at home as thousands will testify— no chany#* of climate being necessary. This simple discovery banishes uric acid from the blood, loosens the stiffened joints, purl lies the blood, and brightens the eyes, giving elasticity and tone to the whole system. If the above Interests you, for proof address Mrs. M. Bummer*, Box 3. Notre Dame, lad. Better Stick to the Bench. From the Ladles' Home Journal. A colored man was brought before A police Judge charged with stealing chick ens. He pleaded guilty and received sen tence, when the Judge asked how It wa« he managed to lift those chtckens right under the window of the owner’s houso when there was a dog loose in the yard. ‘‘Hit wouldn’t be no use, Judge,” said the man, “to try to 'splaln dls thing to yo'-all. Ef you was to try It you like u not would get yer hide full of shot an" get no chickens, nuther. Ef yo’ want to engage in any rascality, Judge, yo’ better stick to de bench, whar yo’ am familiar.** I For Lame Back An aching back is instantly relieved by an application of Sloan’s Liniment. This liniment takes the place of massage and is better than Sticky plasters. It penetrates —without rubbing—through the skin and muscular tissue right to the bone, quickens the blood, relieves congestion, and gives permanent as well as temporary relief. Here’s the Proof. Mr. James C. 2jEe, of 1100 9th St., 8.E.,Wa#hington,B,0., writes ■ “Thirty years ago I fell from a soaffoUt aodeerl ouslyfhjuredmy back. I sufferediferrl blv at' times ; from the small of my hack all around my stomach was just as If I had been beaten with a chib. I deed every plaster I could.(ret with no relief. Sloan’s Llnlmefit took the pain fight ont, and I can now do as muoh balder work as any man in the shop, thanks te Sloan’s Liniment Mr. J. P. Evaes, of Mt. Airy, Gn., ■ays: “After being afllloted for three Jears with rheumatism, I used Sloan’s liniment, and was cured soupq and well, and am glad to say I haven’t been troubled with rheumatism slues. My lsg was badly swollen from my hip to my knee. One-half a Dottle took the pain and swelling out.*' Sloan’s Liniment has no equal as a remedy for Rheu matism, Neuralgia or any pain or stiffness in the muscles or joints. Priest,25c.,60o. tad $1.00 Sloan1! hook on tiursea, cattle, sheep, *'ui Dr. Earl S. Sloan, Botton, Mass., U.S.A, _ Once More. Once more has Autumn’s maglo brush Made beautiful the earth. And painted every dying leaf More lovely than at birth. Once more October's sunlight falls On fields of golden corn, And tow’rlng stacks of gather’d grain And meadows, lately shorn. Once more, afar from haunts of men I hear the Bob White calling; ’ Where wild plums sweeten In the sun. And brown, ripe nuts are falling. Once more the blackbirds’ notes I hear In chorus loudly swelling; * And the red squirrel scolds at me From out his hidden dwelling. ’ Once more, where laughing waters run. And blooms the bright frost flower My heart is full of thankfuln&s To the Almighty Power. __ —Tom Allison. No vegetable left from dinner should go to waste. A combination of almost any of the summer vegetables with tha addtlon of a bit of salad dressing will make a salad as nourishing as It la tasty. The man who goes through two for tunes Is something of a traveler hlm Polaritls Is a new disease. |n tta early stages a man doubts everythin* that Is told him. vymin*