A HIDDENDANGERj
It is a duty of
the kidneys to rid
the blood of uric
acid, an irritating
poison that is con
stantly forming
inside.
When the kid
neys fail, uric acid
causes rheumatic
attacks, headache,
dizziness, gravel,
urinary troubles,
weak eyes, dropsy
or heart disease.
Doan’s
Pills help i
neys fight off uric
acid — bringing
new strength to
weak kidneys and
relief from backache and urinary ills.
A Utah Case
Mrs. James Crooks, First St.. N. W.,
American Fork. Utah, says. "For over
ten years I was afflicted with kidney com
plaint. Often the pain in my back was
so severe that I almost fell to the floor.
The kidney secretions were unnatural.
There was lameness across my lolna
Doan’s Kidney Pills were brought to my
attention and they cured me."
Gst Doan’s at Any Drug Stors, 60c a Box
DOAN’S k^lnl!y
FOSTER-MILBURN CO„ Buffalo. New York
EASY MONEY.
Jte
l
First Lawyer—I wish I had been liv
ing in King Solomon’s time.
Second Lawyer—Why?
First Lawyer—He had 700 wives.
Think of the divorce business he
could have thrown in my way.
Tea’s Conquest of Rome.
Of all the conquerors that have
come to Rome no one has gained such
a complete victory as tea has won in
the Italian capital. Twenty years ago
the British and American tourists who
came to Rome were catered to in the
matter of tea in a rather shamefaced
manner in the strangers’ quarter near
the Piazza di Spagna, and “English
Tea Rooms" was the legend to be
seen in a few windows hard by Cook
& Sons’ offices.
Nowadays the palm lounges of the
Grand and the Excelslo hotels at tea
time are two of the sights of Rome,
for all Roman society drinks tea
abroad in the afternoons, and there
are as many uniforms at 5 o’clock in
the big hotels as there are at sundown
on band days on the Pincan hill. All
the big pastry cooks’ shops in the
Corso and the other principal streets
now have "Afternoon Tea” in gold
letters on their plate glass windows.
Hairy Food.
A traveling man stopped at a hotel
recently, said the Cassody Times. He
found a hair in the honey. He went
to the proprietor and kicked. “I can’t
help it,” said the landlord. “I bought
it for combed honey.” The next day
the traveling man found a hair in the
ice cream, but the landlord said that
was all right, as the ice had been
shaved. Again he found a hair in the
apple pie. This surprised the landlord
greatly. "Why,” said he, "they told
me those apples were Baldwins."—
Kansas City Journal.
Reversed.
Willis—Then he was really an hon
est congressman?
Gillis—He was frankness itself.
When he retired he said he felt as if
the country had served him long
enough.—Puck.
CAREFUL DOCTOR
Prescribed Change of Food Inatead of
Drugs.
It takes considerable courage for a
doctor to deliberately prescribe only
food for a despairing patient, Instead
of resorting to the usual list of medi
cines.
There are some truly scientific phy
sicians among the present generation
who recognize and treat conditions as
they are and should be treated, re
gardless of the value to their pockets,
Here’s an Instance:
“Four years ago I was taken with
severe gastritis and nothing would
stay on my stomach, so that I was on
the verge of starvation.
“I heard of a doctor who had a sum
mer cottage near me—a specialist
from N. Y.—and as a last hope, sent
for him.
“After he examined me carefully
he advised me to try a small quantity
of Grape-Nuts at first, then as my
stomach became stronger to eat more.
"I kept at it and gradually got so I
could eat and digest three teaspoon
fuls. Then I began to have color In
my face, memory became clear, where
before everything seemed a blank. My
limbs got stronger and I could walk.
So I steadily recovered.
“Now after a year on Grape-Nuts I
weigh 153 lbs. My people were sur
prised at the way I grew fleshy and
strong on this food.” Name given by
Fostum Co., Battle Creek, Mich. Read
the little book, “The Road to Well
ville,” in pkgs.
“There’s a reason.”
Ever read the above letter? A new
oar appears from time to time. They
are genuine, true, and full of hoaai
interest. Adv.
i THE HEART OF A WOMAN
BY BARONESS ORCZY.
Author of “Tho Scarlet Pimpernel,” “Petticoat Rule,” Eto.
>■ ■ ■ ... .. ...i
SYNOPSia
The story opens In Bruesels. Louts
Harris, a charming English girl of fam
ily, friends and wealth, while absently
walking along the Boulevard Waterloo lu
a November rain, runs Into a tragedy.
A man Is found murdered In a taxl
-»b; his companion who had left the cab
some time before and told the chauffeur
lo drive to a certain address, had disap
peared and Is unknown.
The scene shifts to London. Luke do
Mountford, Louisa's affianced, the nephew
end heir of the eccentric and wealthy
Lord Radcllffe Is In trouble. An alleged
direct heir, the unknown son of another
brother, nas notified Lord Radcllffe of mi
claims. The old man, passionately fond
of Luke, claims that he has examined the
papers and that the claimant Is an .m
poster.
Suddenly the alleged Phillip de Mount
ford appears In London. After » ®ho,r‘,i":
tervlew with Lord Radcllffe his claims
are recognised and he is Installed as heir.
\Vithout explanation Luke Is practically
disowned. Phillip seems to exert unlim
ited influence over Lord Radcllffe which
puzzles his friends and deties ‘“veytlga
tlon. Lord Radcllffe will explain to no
one.
A year has passedTslnce the tragedy In
Brussels, Suddenly it Is repeated la_«very
detail In London. The victim i*
de Mountford. Every circumstance ana
■, very apparent motive points to
placed nephew, Luke as the murderer.
Jn vain, Louisa, In her blind faith, tried
to prove Luke Innocent. Every lnvestlga
tion brightens the chains of evidence. At
the coroner’ii Inquest the startling devei
opment that the murdered man ia not
Phillip de Mountford but a common
scoundrel denounced by his father and
mother, who Identified the body as their
son, only complicates the situation, it
does not In the least upset the appalling
proofs of Luke’s guilt. A warrant Is is
sued for his arrest but because of his
station In life the police secretly warn
him to leave the country before the war
rant Is served. This he prepares to do.
Louisa sees him and asks him pointedly
for the truth. He confesses his guilt.
Here the heart of a woman discerns his
lie and the real truth that he is protect
ing someone else. Immediately she asks
herself,—Who? and intuitively reasons
that Luke’s love for his uncle must be
bound up with the solution. In the mean
time the uncle has been stricken and no
one permitted to see him. She demands
that she be allowed to talk to him. Her
request is denied but she insists, finally
the physician grants permission. Lord
Radcllffe recognizes no one and does not
understand what is said to him. Alone
with him for a moment she rehearses the
story to him, although he is apparently
unconscious. At the mention of Luke's
name and the fact that he is accused of
the murder Lord Radcllffe shows signs of
Indulgence. When the physician returns
he has Bpoken and demands that what he
has to say be taken down and witnessed.
He dictates a statement—The so-called
Phillip de Mountford who has been pass
ing as his heir was an Imposter. Such a
person had at one time existed and be
gan the correspondence more than a
year before. Lord Radcllffe met him In
Brussels to examine the proofs which he
found correct. In his indecision between
his duty to the real heir and his passion
ate affection for Luke he invites the real
Phillip de Mountford to ride with him
through the streets of Brussels. Suddenly
the impulse seizes him to solve the prob
lem then and there—hence, the murder in
the taxi-cab which Louisa had witnessed
CHAPTER XXXIII—(Continued.)
She understood him so well, you see!
"Kiss your feet, dear?” he asked. "I
would lie down in the dust for your
dear feet to walk over me. I only won
der why God should love me so that he
gave you for this one beautiful moment
to me. Lou, my dearest saint, I cannot
accept your sacrifice. Dear heart!
dear, dear heart! do try and believe
me, when I say that I cannot accept it.
As for imagining that I don't under
stand it and appreciate it, why as soon
think that tomorrow’s Bun will never
rise. I worship you, my saint! and I
worship your love—the purest, most
tender sentiment that ever glorified
this ugly world. But its sacrifice I
cannot accept. I cannot. I would
sooner do that most cowardly of all
deeds, end my life here and now, than
be tempted for one single Instant Into
the cowardice of accepting it. But the
memory of it, dear, that I will take
with me. Do not think of me in fu
ture as being unhappy. No man can
be unhappy whose heart is fed on such
a memory!”
He had her two hands imprisoned in
his, the scent of sweet peas floating
gently to his nostrils. As he buried
his lips in their fragrant soft palms he
was entirely happy. The world had
floated away from him. He was in a
land of magic with her; in a land Where
the air was filled with the fragrance
of sweet peas, a land of phantasmangorie
the land of Fata Morgana, which none
can enter save those who love. Time
sped on, and both had forgotten the
world. The Are crackled in the hearth,
the clock alone recorded the passing of
time. The noise of the great city—so
cruel to those who suffer—came but as
faint echo through the closely drawn
curtains.
There was a discreet knock at the
door, and as no reply came from with
in, It was repeated more Insistently.
Luke jumped to his feet, and Louisa
retreated into the shadow.
"Come in!” said Luke.
The door was opened, quite softly
from outside, and the well drilled serv
ant said:
"Two gentlemen to see you, sir.”
"Where are they, Mary?" he asked.
“In the hall, sir."
"Did they give their names?"
"No, sir."
"Where’s Miss Edle, Mary?”
“In the drawing room, sir, with Col
onel Harris."
“Very well. Then show the two gen
tlemen into the dining room. I'll come
In a tnoment."
“Very good, sir.”
And the discreet little maid retired,
closing the door after her.
CHAPTER XXXIV.
WHICH SPEAKS ONLY OF FARE
WELLS.
The door had scarcely closed, and
already she was near him.
“Luke,” she whispered, and her voice
was horse now and choked, "the po
lice!"
“That’s about it," he said. “I thought
that they meant to let me get away.”
"So father understood from Sir
Thomas Ryder. What will you do,
Luke?"
'I can't do anything. I am afraid. I
wanted to get away-”
“And I have kept you—and now it is
too late.”
A very little'while ago she had hated
the idea of his going. Luke-^a fugitive
from justice—was a picture on which it
was intolerable to look. But now the
womanly instinct rose up in revolt, at
the very thought that he should be ar
rested, tried, and condemned! What
mattered if he were a fugitive, if he
were ostracized and despised? What
mattered anything so long as he lived
and she could be near him? A very
little while ago, she would have done
anything to keep him from going; she
almost longed for his arrest and the
publicity of the trial. She was so sure
that truth would surely come out, that
his Innocence would of necessity be
proved.
But now, woman-Uke, she only long
ed for his safety, and forgetting all the
tradition of her past life, all the old
lessons of self-restraint, forgetting ev
erything except his Immediate dunger,
she clung to him with all the true pas
sion In her, which she no longer tried
to keep In check.
"No, Luke,” she murmured In quick,
jerky tones, "it Is not too late—not at
all too late. You stay In her quietly
and I’ll ask father to go and speak to
them. He’ll tell them that you haven’t
come home yet, and that he Is wultlng
here for you himself. Father Is well
known; they won’t suspect him of
shielding you; and In the meanwhile
you can slip out easily; we’ll send your
luggage on. You can write and let us
know where you are—It Is quite easy—
and not too late-”
Whilst she spoke, she was gradually
edging toward the door. Her voice had
sunk to a horse whisper, for maddening
terror almost deprived her of speech.
With insistent strength she would not
allow him to detain her, and he, whilst
trying to hold her back, was afraid of
hurting her. But at the last when she
had almost reached the door, he con
trived to forestall her, and before she
could guess his purpose he had pressed
a finger on the button of the electric
bell.
She heard the distant tinkle of the
bell, and this made her pause.
"What is it, Luke?” she asked. '"Why
did you ring?"
"For your father, dear," he replied
simply.
“Then you will do what I want you
to." she rejoined eagerly, "you will go
away ?”
He gave no Immediate answer, for
already the maid’s footstep was heard
along the passage. The next moment
she was knocking at the door. Luke
went up to It, gently forcing Louisa
back into the shadow behind him.
“Mary,” he said, with his hand on
the latch of the door, holding It slightly
ajar, "just ask Colonel Harris to come
here, will you?"
"Yes, sir.”
The girl was heard turning away,
and walking back briskly along the
passage. Then Luke faced Louisa once
again.
He went up to her and without a
word took her in his arms. It was a
supreme farewell and she knew It. She
felt It in the quiver of agony which
went right through him as he pressed
her so close—so close that her breath
nearly left her body and her heart
seemed to stand still. She felt It in the
sweet, sad pain of the burning kisses
with which he covered her face, her
eyes, her hair, her mouth. It was the
final passionate embrace, the Irrevoc
able linking of soul and heart and mind,
the parting of earthly bodies, the un
ion of Immortal souls. It was the end
of all things earthly, the beginning of
things eternal.
She understood and her resistance
vanished. All that had been dark to
her became suddenly transfigured and
Illumined. With the merging of earth
ly passion into that love which Is God's
breath, she—the pure and selfless
woman, God's most perfect work on
earth—became as God, and knew whut
was good and what had been evil.
Neither of them spoke; the word
"farewell” was not uttered between
them. His final kiss was upon her
eyes, and she closed them after that,
the better to Imprint on her memory
the vision of his face lit up with the
divine fire of an unconquerable pas
sion.
The entrance of Colonel Harris
brought them both back to present
reality. He, poor man, looked severely
troubled, and distinctly older than he
usually did.
"Did you want me, Luke?" he asked.
“Yes, sir," replied the latter, "the po
lice are here, and I thought that per
haps you and Louisa would be so kind
as to take Edle along with you. Jim
is going to sleep in barracks tonight,
and Edle ought not to stay here alone."
"Yes. We’ll take Edle,” said the col
onel curtly, ’’she’ll be all right with us.
Are you ready, Lou?"
"Yes, dear,” she replied.
And she passed out of the door with
out another word, or another look.
The supreme farewell had been
spoken. Further words—even another
kiss—would have almost desecrated Its
undying memory.
The two men remained alone, and
Colonel Harris without any hesitation
held out his hand to Luke de Mount
ford.
“The police are here, sir,” said Luke,
without taking the hand that was of
fered him.
"I know they are.” muttered the oth
er, "that’s no reason why you should
refuse an old friend’s hand.”
Then as Luke—hesitating no longer
—placed his burning hand in that of
his friend, Colonel Harris said quietly,
almost entreatlngly:
"It’s only a temporary trouble, eh.
my boy? You can easily refute this
abominable charge, and prove your In
nocence?”
think not, sir,” replied Luke. "I
cannot refute the charge and my In
nocence will be difficult to prove.”
"But you are mad, man!” retorted the
older man hotly. "You are mad! and
are breaking a woman’s heart!”
’’Heaven forgive me for that, sir. It
is the greatest crime.”
Colonel Harris smothered a powerful
oath. Luke’s attitude puzzled him more
and more. And his loyalty had received
such a succession of shocks today that
it would have been small wonder if It
had begun to totter at last.
He turned away without another
word. But at the door he paused once
more—In obvious hesitation.
"There’s nothing else I can do for
you?” he asked.
"Nothing, sir. Thank you.”
"You—you were not thinking—of—”
"Of what, sir?” asked Luke.
Then as he saw the other man's eyes
wandering to the drawer of the desk, he
said simply:
"Of suicide, you mean, sir?”
Colonel Harris nodded.
"Oh, no,” rejoined Luke. And he
added after a slight pause: "Not at
present.”
“What do you mean by that?"
"I mean that I shouldn't exactly hang
for the murder of the Clapham brick
layer. I shouldn’t let it come to that.
I am sorry 1 did not manage to get
away tonight. 1 thought they meant to
let me.” ,
"I think they did mean to. Some
blunder I suppose on the part of the
subordinates."
"I suppose so.”
"Well, Luke,” said <’olonel Harris
with a deep sigh, *’I have known you
ever since you were a child, but, by
G-d, man! I confess that I don’t un
derstand you."
"That’s very kindly put, sir," rejoined
Luke with the semblance of a smile.
"You have every right to call me a
confounded blackguard."
”1 shall only do that after your trial,
my boy,” said the other. "When I
I
have heard you confess with your own
Ups that you killed that d—d scoundrel
in a moment of Intense provocation."
"I had better not keep the police
waiting any.Ionger, sir. had 1?"
"No! no! that's all right. I'll take
my poor Lou away at once, and we'll
see after Kdle and Jim -we 11 look after
them—and Frank, too, when he comes
home."
“Thank you, sir.”
"S’long my boy.”
And Colonel Harris—puzzled, worried
and miserable—Anally went out of the
room. On the threshold ho turned,
moved by the simple and primitive In
stinct of wishing to take a last look
at a friend.
He saw Luke standing there In the
full light of the electric lamp, calm,
quite serene, correct to the last In ut
titude and bearing. The face was just
a mask—marble-like and impassive—
Jealously guarding the secrets of the
soul within. Just a good looking, well
bred young Englishman In fact, who
looked In his elegant attire ready to
start off for some social function.
Not a single trace either on Ills per
son or In his neat,' orderly surround
ings of the appalling tragedy which
would have broken the spirit of any
human creature, less well schooled In
self-restraint.
Convention was triumphant to the
end.
The man of the world—the English
gentleman, hypocritical or unemotionul?
which?—was here ready to face abject
humiliation and hopeless disgrace us
Impassively as he would have received
the welcome of an hostess at a dinner
party.
CHAPTER XXXV.
WHICH TELLS OF PICTURES IN
THE FIRE.
It did not take poor little Kdle very
long to get her things on and to make
ready to go away with Colonel Harris
and with Louisa. Something of the
truth hud to be told to her, and we
must do her the Justice to state that
when she understood the full strength
of the calamity which had befallen her
and Luke, something of her brother’s
calm dignity showed itself in her own
demeanor.
She pulled herself together with re
markable vigor, and before Mary, the
maid, she contrived to behave Just as
if nothing of great importance had oc
curred.
"I am going to dine out tonight.
Mary,” she said quite calmly, "and I
mayn’t be home until sometime tomor
row'. So don't sit up for me."
"No, miss," replied Mary demurely,;
who kept her own counsel, like the
well drilled, good class servant that
she was.
"And tell cook that Mr. de Mountfordj,
won’t be in either, nor Mr. Jim. I'll”
see her tomorrow and let her know
when we all come back."
"Very good, miss.”
Louisa gave ungrudging admiral
tion, and whispered praise to the younjf
girl. She was proud of Kdle’s be|
havior, and grateful to hi#
too. This atmosphere of reserve dill
her good. She could not have endured
a scene of weeping and keep her own
nerves in check all the w hile.
It was cloBe upon 8 o’clock when (It
last they reached the Langham hotfl.
Colonel Harris ordered the dinner to
be served in the private sitting room
Of course, none of them could eat arjy
thlng. Their Inward thoughts were
following Luke de Mountford alosig
that weary Calvary which he had set
himself to mount.
Soon after dinner, Edie elected to go
to bed. The poor child had a va.iue
desire to be alone, and also a vatiue,
unhappy feeling that she was in the
way. -She was quite woman enough
now to understand how much more
acutely Louisa Harris must be Buffer
ing, than she was herself, and since
she—the sister—longed for solitude,
how- much keener must be that longing
In the heart of the woman who ii|ved
and had lost Luke.
■ So she wen*, quietly off to bed. Louisa
kissed her with real affection. Edie
seemed like something of Luke; lllle u
tender bequest made by a dying t*an.
After that she herself said "wood
night” to her father. Colonel JJajrrls
was obviously in such acute dflstfcss
that Louisa felt that, above all thitigs,
he must have the companionship of
those of his own sex. The atmosphere
of woman's sorrow was essentially bad
for him. He was not a younr? ihun,
and the last two duys had tried [him
very severely. Louisa hoped tha(l If
she pretended to go to bed early}, he
would perhaps be induced to go tci his
club for an hour.
If he only sat there for an liour.
reading the papers und nodding t<j> his
many friends, it would take ’hlml out
of himself.
"I am very tired, dear.' she (said,
after she had seen Edie sufely tucked
up amongst the blankets. "I think I’ll
follow Edle’s good example. It's njo use
sitting here, staring into the fire. Is it,
dear?”
"Not a bit of use, Lou. And 1 sup
pose you would like to be alone?'?
"I shan’t go to bed, dear, unless you
go to the club."
"Very well, Lou. It seems the right
thing to do, doesn't It? You go t?o bed
and I’ll go to the club for an howr. As
you say, it’s no use sitting staring into
the tire."
(Continued Next Week.)
THE ART OF RESTING.;
From the Nautilus.
An number of troubles will cflise to
exist If we cease paying attention to
tluun.
Thus the art of resting leads; grad
ually from the outer world to thi Inner
until we see that It Is essentlallk dj ques
tion of spiritual faith. If you hifve ac
quired a faith that generates repose,
this repose will express Itself through
out the organism. You will theln cease
to worry, you will stop all coercion and
self-coercion, patiently adapting your
self to the wisdom of the situation
This will bring about a willingness to
let "the Increasing purpose" tlrjat runs
throughout the ages attain Its end In Its
own way. With peace at tine) center,
you will find that you have nkore re
serve power, hence you will neh(l to rest
less frequently. Accordingly, you will
live more In the present, checking the
old tendency to cross bridges which
you have not yet reached.
Meanwhile, It Is Indeed necessary to
know how to rest along the way, and
one should learn not only to iiike long
breaths between, but to Islersperse
throughout the busiest days nrfew mo
ments of refreshment in the (realm of
the Ideal. Whenever you cuftnot find
a helpful thought, always liemember
that there Is virtue In mcrelpi keeping
still—not holding still forciflully. but
becoming progressively still w Ithin,
first In body then In thoudht. The
center cf quiet power will gn»w, if one
fosters this habit so thut indue time
one can turn more directly to) the culm
place within—a calm spot wjithln the
hurricane. It may sometimes be.
Her Opportunity.
From the Fliegende lilueiter.
Young Husband—What t. glorious
day! 1 could dare anything. Jface any
thing, on u day like tills!
Wife—Come on down to the milli
ners. ,
Montreal Is considering a |\l00.000.000
underground electric line.
COULDN'T HAVE DONE BETTER
Marriage Arrangement Seemed Some
thing of a Bargain, but It Turned
Out Happily.
George A. Birmingham, the widely
knotwn writer, says there is no coun
try in the world where marriage, at
least in the peasant class, is more a
matter of bargaining and yet shows a
higher average of stability and con
tent. than Ireland. Sometimes the
man has never seen the woman be
fore they are brought together, the
precise number of pounds, sows, or
plffs to be handed over having been
by that time settled.
This is illustrated in personal recol
lections Just published by an Irish
woman. She was visiting with an
aunt at a cottage in the neighborhood,
and admired a One mahogany chest of
drawers.
,**’Twas for that I was married,”
said the mistress of the cottage. A
young farmer had also seen and ad
mired. A bargain was Btruck. There
vuas no money, but the bride was to
have a couple of sheep, a yearling
bullock and the chest. The prudent
young man measured it, and then
young man measured ft, and then
tarned and asked:
“An’ which o’ thim little girls is it?"
She was the oldest unmarried—
'hiixt the doore,” as the phrase was.
••A n’ so 1 wint,” she said, "and was I
happy ever afterwards.”—Tit-Bits.
BOW TO TREAT PIMPLES AND
BLACKHEADS
For pimples and blackheads the fol
lowing Is a most effective and eco
nomical treatment: Gently smear the
affected parts with Cuticura Oint
ment, on the end of the Unger, but
do not rub. Wash ofT the Cuticura
Ointment In five minutes with Cuti
cura Soap and hot water and continue
bathing for some minutes. This treat
ment Is best on rising and retiring.
At other times use Cuticura Soap
freely for the toilet and bath, to as
sist In preventing Inflammation, Irri
tation and clogging of the pores, the
common cause of pimples, blackheads,
redness and roughness, yellow, oily,
mothy and other unwholesome condi
tions of the skin.
Cuticura Soap and Ointment sold
throughout the world. Sample of each
free, with 32-p. Skin Book. Address
post-card “Cuticura, Dept. Li, Boston."
Cuticura Soap and Ointment sold
throughout the world. Sample of each
free, with 32-p. Skin Book. Address
post-card "Cuticura, Dept. L, Boston.”
Adv.
Forced to Work.
An Edwards county farmer was
short a harvest hand. He went to
Kinsley, a mile away, In his auto.
He found a man there, dumped him
into his auto and took hint out to the
farm.
Next morning, when the drunkard
had come out of it, he asked how far
it was to town. The farmer told him
fifteen miles and promised to take
him in the following Saturday If he
would heli> harvest that week. The
man worked all week without know
ing that he was only a mile from j
town.—Kansas City Journal.
Willie’s Strategy.
"Uncle George, 1 wish you wouldn't
give Willie any more nickels.''
“Why, that's all right, Jane. The
little fellow ran right up the front
itairs to put the coin In his savings
Dank.”
“And he ran right down the back
stairs to the nearest candy shop.”
Mrs. Winslow's Soothing Syrup for Children
teething, softens the gums, reduces influinmu
lion, allays pain, cures wind colic, 25c a bottle.
Adv
Every man has a secret hope that
refuses to come out.
SUFFERED
EVERYTHING
For Fourteen Years. Restored
To Health by Lydia E. Pink*
ham’s Vegetable
Compound.
Elgin, III.—"After fourteen yean of
suffering everything from female seen
plaints, I am at last
restored to braMa
“I employed fee
best doctors and
even went to fee
hospital for {treat
ment and was tetd
there was no helpfer
me. But while tak
ing Lydia E. Flak
ham’s Vegetable
‘Compound I began
to improve and I
continued its use until I was made welL’*
—Mrs. Henry Leisebero,743 Adams St.
Kearneysville, W. Va.—"I feel it my
duty to write and say what Lydia E.
Pinkham’a Vegetable Compound haa
done for me. I suffered from female
weakness and at times felt so miaenbla
I could hardly endure being on my fsat.
“After taking Lydia E. Pinkham’a
Vegetable Compound and following your
special directions, my trouble is gone
Words fail to express my thankfulness.
I recommend your medicine to ail my
friends.”—Mrs. G. B. Whittingtoh.
The above are only two of the the*
sands of grateful letters which are cee
stantly being received by the Pinkham
Medicine Company of Lynn,Mass.,which
show clearly what great things Lyfia K.
Pinkham’a Vegetable Compound dean
for those who suffer from woman's iUa.
. If tou want special advice write to
Lydia E. Pinkham Medicine Co. (eeaft
dential) Lynn, Mass. Your letter wtU
be opened, read and answered by a
woman and held In strict oonMcnm.
The WretchedneM
of Constipation
Can quickly be overcome
CARTER’S LITTLE
LIVER PILLS.
Purely vegetable
■—act surely and
gently on the
fiver. Cure
Biliousness,
Head
ache,
Dizzi
ness, and Indigestion.
SMALL PILL, SMALL DOSE, SMALL
Genuine must bear Signature
DEALERS! GET OUR PRICES M
Selected Hard Brick—Hollow
Brick—Hollow Blocks—Sewer
Pipe—Drain Tile—Flue Lin
ings —Well Curbing — Wall
Coping—Impervious Face
Brick—Red Pressed Brick—
Fire Proofing — Silo Blox
Clay Produett Co., Sioux City, ia.
MANUFACTURERS Four Faetaitaa
[Backache Rheumatism^
1 Kidneys and Bladder I
FOR ALL
EYE PAINS
SIOUX CITY PTG. CO., NO.
bi | ALCOHOL-3 PER CENT
AVefe table Preparation for As
kjjij simiJating the Food and Reg ula
M tmg the Stomachs and Bowels of
Promotes Digestion,Cheerful
ly ness and Rest Contains neither
^ Opium .Morphine nor Mineral
Iti Not Marc otic
fa Ar//v 'SOIdDrSAHVEUmfiSR
hi PumttJrtn SuJ -
|KuhtUtSm/U ■ )
g (
b f
Wn JW - (
>lL girHs*rz )
IqO TOwy*r» Flavor ' s
ig^O A perfect Remedy for Constipa
Wtl lion. Sour Stomach.Diarrhoea,
«8 Worms,Convulsions,Feverish
tJtG ness and LOSS OF SLEEP
Fac Simile Signature of
W -
EiJ The Centaur Company.
rtlv NEW YORK
gi <
^ ,
^Guaranteed under the Foodanf
Exact Copy of Wrapper.
QflSTORIfl
For Infants and Children.
The Kind You Have
*
t
Thirty Years
CUSTOM
TMM OINUUa OOMPANV, HI* VOW WW*