HOW MRS. BROWN
SUFFERED
During Change of Life—How
Lydia E. Pinkham’s Vege
table Compound Made
Her a Well Woman.
lola, Kansas.—‘ ‘ During the Change
ttf Life I was sick for two years. Be
i lore 1 look, your rxieu*
icine I could not
bear the weight of
my clothes and was
bloated very badly.
I doctored wi th three
doctors but they did
me no good. They
said nature must
have its way. My
sister advised me to
take Lydia E. Pink
ham’s Vegetable
Com pound and I purchased a bottle.
Before It was gone the bloating left me
and I was not so sore. I continued tak
ing It until I had taken twelve bottles.
Now I am stronger than I have been for
years and can do all my work, even the
washing. Your medicine Is worth its
weight In gold. I cannot praise it
enough. If more women would take
C' medicine there would be more
thy women. You may use this let
ter for the good of others.”—Mrs. D.
it Broww, 809 N.Walnut St, Iola.Kan.
Change of Life is one of the most
-critical periods of a woman’s existence.
Women everywhere should remember
that there Is no other remedy known to
so successfully carry women through
this trying period as Lydia E. Pinkham’s
Vegetable Compound.
If yon want special advice write to
Xydla E. Flnkbam Medicine Co. (confl*
4ent!al) Lynn, Mass. Tour letter will
bo opened, read and answered by a
Woman end bold in strict confidence.
HOT RETORT.
^ ^04*
The Pompous Man—Why, sir, I’m a
er-or-self-mado man.
The Lean Chap—When are you go
ing to oall the strike off and com
tplete tha Job.
Not Altogether e Case of Love.
Here is a story to Illustrate the
4>olnt that one never can judge by ap
pearances.
"A young boy with golden curls, a
•regular cherub in appearance, was on
'the front porch playing with a little
-dog and putting him through a lot of
tricks. The minister passed by and
was etrnok by the appearance of the
'little ohap and the celerity with which
the dog obeyed all hie commands.
“ 'Ah, little boy,’ he said, 'you must
itove your dog. Are you good to
thlmr
'Sorer answered the cherub. ,
*** ’Audi I suppose he loves you,
too, aad that’s why he minds you so
welir
“Well, If he didn't mind me, I’d
knock hie blooming block off,’ waB the
•unexpected retort of the child."
Unpicked Grapes Go to the Poor.
A curious old law, which dates from
177>, has been used to sentence the
owner of a vineyard at Capeetang,
near Beelers, France, to a fine and
costs tor picking her own grapes. She
was picking the grapes which had been
left on the vines in her vineyard after
the fall gathering, when the policeman
told her that she was committing an
-offense against the law, as all grapes
4eft on the vines after the harvest
were the property of the poor. The
•court at Baxters confirmed the police
man's opinion, and the woman was
convicted.
Misunderstood.
"I hear that in the club Mies Old
girl was considered a bone of con
tention.”
"Law, no, Marne; they don’t think
She's that thin."
CONSTIPATION
Munyon's Paw-Paw
Pills are unlike all oth
er laxatives or cathar
tics. They coax the
liver into activity by
gentle methods, they
do not scour; they do
not gripe: they do not
weaken; but they do
start all the secretions
of the liver and stom
ach in a way that soon
puts these organs in a
healthy condition and
Munyon's Paw-Paw
mus an a tonic to tne stomach, liver and
•serves. They invigorate instead of weaken;
they enrich the blood instead of impover
hey enable the stomach to get all
SYMUh'SIS.
In the time of Queen Anne, I,ady Prue
dence Brook, widowed at 16 and still a
widow at two and twenty, while Journey
ing in a coach to London with her cousin
Peggy, Is accosted by a highwayman who,
however, takes nothing from her except a
kiss.
The two girls live with their grand
mother, Lady Drumloch, who, despite her
reduced circumstances, maintains a gay
social position in the court circle.
Prue is small, gay, delightful, daring,
extravagant, and always In debt.
She Is perpetually pursued by creditors
and Just now Is In deep water for want oi
a few guineas with which to buy a ne
gowa by whose aid she hopes to win baca
ihe queen's favor, very recently lose uy
one of her mad pranks.
She decides to visit Aaron's, a notoidous
money lender, and asks him to take care
of her debts on the strength of her ap
proaching marriage to Sir Geoffrey Beau
desert.
Aaron Informs her, however, that Beau
desert Is himself head over heels.In deDi
and while Prue Is still In his offlee Sir
Geoffrey arrives.
Prue at once secrets herself In a closet
aid to her astonishment overhears tnr
Geoffrey ask for advances of money, also
on the strength of their engagement.
Prue reads in a paper an account of the
trial and sentence of Robin Freemantle,
the highwayman who had kissed her on
the moors, and that he is to be hanged at
Tyburn the following Monday.
Suddenly she recalls that according to
legal custom the debts of a widow are
burled In the coffin of her husband.
She conceives the whimsical Idea of
marrying Robin In order to escape ner
debts.
Accompanied by Peggy she visits New
gate prison and Robin, who Is already in
love with her, consents to the ceremony.
Afterward Prue asks to be alone with
him for a few minutes and allows him to
kiss her again and feels pity for his ap
proaching execution.
Lord Beaucombe also visits Robin and
Robin tells him that he has proof that
Beaucombe Is not the legitimate hair to
the title and threatens If he Is not re
leased to see that proof of this fact gets
to Beaucombe’a enemies.
On Monday Peggy Is suffering keenly
because of her belief that Robin, now be
ginning to be a hero In her eyes, Is about
to be nanged she Is astonished at seeing
him enter the house and Is told that he
has been reprieved and set at liberty.
For his freedom Robin, whose real name
In LeCllffe, agrees to make over to Lord
Beaucombe a paper conveying his claim
to the title and estate to him.
He has no sooner done this than Lord
Beaucombe treacherously tries to capture
him. Robin by cleverly disguising him
self In a borrowed coat and hat and using
Lord Boaucombe’s horse, escapes.
CHAPTER XXI—(Continued.)
•' .*.—— tr
She checked herself quickly, though
not quite unobserved. Beachcombe, of
course, did not suspect anything so
preposterous as that Prue could be In
terested In the highwayman, beyond
the fact that he had made her the
heroine of a successful escapade, but
her change of countenance, slight as
It was, and her gesture, though In
stantly diverted to a readjustment of
the rose at her breast, did not escape
his keen eye.
"You recognise the superscription?"
he suggested insinuatingly. “You saw
tho packet in his bands, perhaps? If—
BO—"
“If so,” she Interrupted quickly,
"you have little chance of recovering
It, since 'tls suld he was drowned last
night.”
"If I could only believe that true,"
he exclaimed fiercely. "But no; he es
caped; there can be no doubt of that;
In fact, I have reason to know—"
"To know that he Is safe,” she cried
In a thrilling accent of unmistakable
Joy. "Oh, heaven”—then suddenly she
remembered that this man was his
enemy and desired his death. She
stopped short and then went on hur
riedly, conscious that she had betrayed
herself—"Is it possible that this—this
miscreant Is still alive and at lib
erty?”
He looked at her dubiously, but al
though a growing suspicion that she
was acting a part disturbed him. It
did not yet enlighten him with any
ray of the truth.
"I am as sure of It, as I am that
he pursued you at the ball, under
cover of my domino—and, for his pun
ishment, fell in love with you," he
said boldly.
"Fell In love with me." cried Prue
disdainfully. "Again, sir? How dare
you suggest such presumption!”
"The fellow certainly docs not lack
presumption,” replied Beachcombe,
"and as to his having fallen In love
with you, did he not prove his In
fatuation by surrendering hls priceless
booty for the sake of seeing you once
more, even at the peril of hls life?
Believe me, dear Viscountess, the man
who will risk so much, will risk still
more; you have not seen the last of
Captain Freemantle."
"You think not?" cried Prue. “What
do you suppose he will do next?”
"Probably he will repeat the tactics
that he has already pitrsued with such
enviable success," said the earl, with
a scarcely perceptible sneer, "and send
one of hls followers to your ladyship
to beseech another Interview; or per
haps he will come to you himself."
“Heaven forbid," cried Prue. "I trust
he will not attempt anything so—so
audacious."
"On the contrary, my dear lady,"
replied Beachcombe blandly, "If you
will be guided by me. I think we can
turn this fellow’s Impudence to our
mutual advantage. I most sincerely
trust that he will come or send to
you. because now he has been
routed out of hls house by
the river side, we no longer know
where he Is hiding. He Is not like
to return there, but gentlemen of his
profession have many haunts, and hav
ing Induced your ladyship to visit one
of them, he will, no doubt, try an
other."
"You seem to forget that there Is
only one queen’s necklace," she cried
incautiously. Then, conscious of her
Indiscretion, she added with too eager
precipitation, “Besides, Robin Free
mantle had nothing to do with my visit
to that house; I was guided there—”
“By a messenger sent by him, as 1
understand," interrupted Beachcombe.
“ ’Tls no secret that your ladyship was
induced by means of a letter—"
"Secret! I should think not!" she
cried petulantly, tossing the letter up
on the table beside him. “All the town
seems talking about It, and ail the
world may read It, for aught I care!
I defy the most ingenious scandal
mon—r to make anything out of It."
Lora Beachcombe took It up, and
slowly unfolding It, read It carefully,
and then looked up with a smile of tri
umph, that struck a sudden chill to
Prue's heart. Prom his breast he drew
a letter addressed to "The Right Hon
orable Lord Beachcombe. At Rodney
House, Saint James' Park, London,"
and placing the two papers side by
side, contemplated them with vindic
tive satisfaction.
"There can be no further doubt,” he
said. See for yourself. Viscountess, the
writing Is Identical.”
She looked, and had some difficulty
In maintaining her Indifference. Fur
ious at herself for having given
Beachcombe an opportunity to confirm
his suspicions, she had just enough
self-command left to see that It was a
case of qul s’excuse s’accuse, and that
any attempt at explanation would only
plunge her into an inextricable tangle
of falsehood. So she merely remarked,
In as casual a tone as she could as
sume, “La me! how curious!” and
stretched out her hand for her own
document.
Beachcombe withheld It “Pray per
mit me to retain this, Lady Prudence,”
he entreated. "It Is an important piece
of evidence.”
“More Important to me than to your
lordship!” she retorted sharply. “Be
good enough to return It to me!” and
as he still hesitated, she snatched it
from his grasp, exclaiming with an
angry laugh. "Evidently the liking for
other people’s ‘private papers’ runs In
the blood of the De Cllffes.”
With a savage scowl, Lord Beach
combe half rose from his seat. But
Prue had already recovered from her
spurt of passion, and with the prettiest
deprecating gesture and the most al
luring smile she could call up at a mo
ment's notice, she stemmed the tide of
his wrath.
“Oh! forgive me, Lord Beachcombe,”
she said sweetly. "I am not used to
be so cross-questioned and my temper,
as you know well, is none of the most
patient. Do not let us quarrel over
such a trifle as a fancied resemblance
between two scraps of writing.”
“ ’Tls no fancied resemblance, Lady
Prudence,” said Beachcombe doggedly.
“Then If It is a real one, would It not
be better for us to see how we can
turn it to our mutual advantage, than
to wrangle over itr” she suggested.
Beachcombe’s brow cleared at her
conciliatory tone, and his half awak
ened suspicions melted under the In
fluence of a. sweet and beaming smile.
“There Is nothing easier than to turn
It to our advtantge and his destruction,
dear Viscountess, If you will be guided
by me,” he said eagerly. “If Captain
Preemantle should make another at
tempt to see you—as I feel convinced
he will—surely woman’s wit can man
age to bring us face to face, or at least
to let me know where he Is to be found.
I am convinced that I could show him
excellent reasons for giving up those
papers, which would prove danger
ously compromising—to him—if dis
dlscovered in his possession. You could
secure yourself from further molesta
tion and promote the ends of justice
in this way, and place me under a life
long obligation.”
“And how about Captain Pree
mantle?” suggested Prue. "Would his
obligation to me also be lifelong?”
“Why—no doubt,” he replied, with a
sinister smile.
"Well, Lord Beachcombe,” said Prue,
with a charming smile, “I will give
your message to this knight of the road
—when I see him—and I doubt not he
w’lll wait upon your lordship to receive
the benefits you are so anxious to be
stow upon him. Oh! you need not
thank me” (he had no intention of do
ing so); “I am always glad to oblige
an old friend. And pray do not hurry
away; I hear the voice of my gossip,
Barbara Sweeting, and presently the
rest of London will flock round me t*
repeat what every one Is saying about
me, and find out something new to tell
In their turn. You, who have given
me so much information, can help me
to entertain them.”
CHAPTER XXII.
IN A CHAIRMAN'S LIVERY.
Lady Barbara rustled Into the room
In the most expansive of hoops and the
loftiest of heads of lace and feathers,
the height, literally, of the mode.
"Prue, you sly minx, I have come to
give you the scolding you deserve,”
Bhe began, and half mirthful, half re
proachful, was about to embrace her
when her glance fell upon Lord Beach
combe. She started back and turned
her eyes from one to the other with ex
aggerated disapproval, behind which
lurked the excitement of the keen
hunter on a promising trail.
Beachcombe'8 dark face flushed with
an embarrassment that he vainly at
tempted to conceal under the elaborate
politeness of his greeting, but Prue,
all Innocent smiles, and thoroughly en
joying a sltualton which put her In
quisitor to confusion, flew Into her
dear friend’s arms.
"How are you, dearest Bab?” she
cried. "I am simply perishing for a
long, long talk with you. Oh! I have
so much to tell you—”
“Not so much as you think, perhaps,
wicked one," retorted Barbara, still re
proachfully, "but I own I am dying for
the key to your mysterious adven
tures.”
“Have you, too, come to cross ques
tion me about last night?” cried Prue
petulantly. "Before I was out of my
bed the house was besieged. Ah!
here Is Peggie, who can tell you more
about my visitors than I can, for half
of them came while I was yet asleep.”
"’Tis not your visitors I want to
hear about, Prue, but yourself. To
think, that with Buch a frolic to the
fore, my Prue should have left mo
without a hint of what was happening!
How can I ever forgive It?"
"Lady Brooke should be pardoned all
things for the sake of her herojsm,”
•said Beachcombe, with cold Irony. "Yet
it seems a pity that she should have
braved alone the dangers so many of
her friends would willingly have
shared.”
“You too?" cried Barbara, raising
hand and eyes appealingly to the of
fended heavens. "Can neither matri
mony nor paternity cure the Prue
fever?—nor even phlebotomy at the
hands of so skilful a chirurgeon as Sir
Geoffrey Beaudesert? Pray, if one
may venture to inquire, what may be
your Interest in the recovery of the
queen's necklace, since surely It can
not be either friendship or love’”
The look he gave her certainly sug
gested neither of these emotions, but
his voice was under better control.
"My Interest, dear Lady Barbara, Is
so tar selfish that as the robbery was
perpetrated under cover of my domino.
I should certainly have wished to take
part in finding of the Jewel—and the
thief.”
“La!” cried Barbara, smiling enig
matically. ‘‘How unfortunate that the
necklace has been returned and the
thief arrested without your assist
ance!"
"Arrested!” her auditors exclaimed
together, but in very different tones.
Lord Beachcombe’® vibrated with grat
ified hatred, Prue’s trembled with dis
may. The color dropped from her
cheek, and but for Peggie’s prompti
tude, her agitation would have be
trayed her beyond concealment. She,
however, had been hovering on the
threshold trying to attract her cousin’s
attention, and now ran forward with
great vivacity, and by a torrent of
eager questions, drew attention to her
self and gave Prue time to recover
from her perturbation, though not be
fore it had been observed with malic
ious inference by Lord Beachcombe.
"Why, truly, I scarcely expected to
bring news to the fountain-head,"
Barbara ran on. "Yet ’tis a fact, my
poor Prue, that your romance has a
very commonplace finale. ’Tis no dash
ing exploit of a bold highwayman,
after all. no hairbreadth escape from
a robber’s den, but merely the out
come of an intrigue between a cham
bermaid and a scrivener’s clerk; and
a fit of vulgar jealousy has pricked the
bubble of your romance, my love!”
Greatly to the astonishment of both
her vsitors, Prue’s face, instead of
falling in dismay, became irradiated
with the loveliest expression of joy.
Her eyes, softly luminous, swan in a
rapturous mist and dimples played in
the damask that suddenly drove the
pallor from her cheek. Such a trans
formation could hardly fall to aston
ish even those most accustomed to the
swift variations of this creature of
caprice.
"Tell us quickly, dear Barbara,” she
cried, with a little tremolo of excite
ment In her voice. "You know ‘twaa
near midnight when the duchess
brought me home, and I was so tired
I slept until noon—all my visitors this
morning have come to seek informa
tion—not to impart it. Do, pray, tell
me what has happened.”
"La! Prue, I thought you would be
mortified to death at such a tame end
ing to your romantic adventure, and
you seem delighted,” replied Barbara,
with pique. “One of the serving
wenches at Marlborough house, finding
the royal tiring room for a moment un
guarded, took her sweetheart in, and
not content with gazing, they must
needs carry their audacity to the point
of fingering her majesty’s toilet arti
cles, and so come upon the necklace in
in its case, which so dazzled them, I
presume, that they turned crazy, and
hearing voices at one door, ran out of
another and found themselves back in
the servants' quarters with the neck
lace in their possession. The girl
swears they did not mean to steal it,
but did not know how to get it back
unobserved, and finally the lover, in a
panic, fled from the house, carrying the
perilous pelf with him.”
“A probable story, indeed!" cried
Beachcombe scofflngly. "It might ac
count for the disappearance of the
Jewel, but scarcely for its restoration.”
"Oh! that was a case1 of conscience,
a thing quite incomprehensible of
course to an ’esprit fort,’ such as your
lordship," retorted Barbara. "The girl
suffered tortures, it appears, during
which she was a dozen times on the
point of confessing, but hesitated for
fear of incriminating her lover. Then
came the story of the return of the
necklace, which, by the time it reached
the still room, had grown to the wild
est of marvels. After that, no one
seems to know exactly what happened,
but possibly, between fear of her own
part in the affair and rage at the
treachery of her lover, the wretched
creature lost what few sense she had
and actually forced her way into the
presence of the duchess, where she
groveled on the floor, confessing and
accusing and Lord knows what besides,
and was carried out raving and foam
ing at the mouth."
"And so she confessed that she and
her lover had stolen, or at any rate
carried off the necklace," commented
Prue thoughtfully.
“Then how do you account for its
restoration by Robin Freemantle?”
Beachcombe inquired, with his stealthy
eyes upon her.
“Do you persist, even now, in con
necting him with this affair?” she re
torted, facing him defiantly. "For my
part, I am now thoroughly convinced
that it was a very vulgar matter and
that I have been made a fool and a
tool of by a pack of low wretches. Do
not let any one who does not wish to
offend me, ever mention my part in
it again.”
“On the contrary—” Barbara was be
ginning, when Peggie, from the win
dow, uttered a cry of admiration.
"Is that your new chair at the door,
Barbara 7” she cried. “Sure, ’tis the
finest in town!”
“Ah! I had for the moment forgotten
—’twas but to display it I came here
this afternoon—to show that and to
scold Prue for a faithless friend.”
They all followed her to the window,
and in the street below stood a most
superb sedan chair, all carving and
gilding, lined and curtained with crim
son, and borne by four strapping foot
ment in liveries to match.
"’Tis truly magnificent,” cried Lord
Beachcombe. "All the world admires
the taste of Lady Barbara Sweeting,
but this time she has given us some
tihng to marvel at.”
(Continued Next Week.)
POLLY “KIDS” HELLO
GIRL; CALLS HER DEAR
New York—Mr. and Mrs. Charles F.
Bailey of New Orleans, who recently
arrived In the Waldorf-Astoria, long
have had a fancy to own a talking
parrot.
Mr. Bailey bought a bird yesterday.
It talked well. Mrs. Bailey today left
"Barbara," as the bird was christened,
in her room in the Waldorf.
The telephone attracted the bird’s at
tention. She flopped around and
knocked oft the receiver and fumbled
around the mouthpiece.
"Miss Sallle Smith"—it has to be
this name, because H. L. Stewart, as
sistant manager of the Waldorf, posi
tively refused to tell the real name of
the girl—saw the signal flash and an
swered the call.
"Hello!” she thought she heard.
"Number, please?" said "MIbs Smith."
“Oh, you little dear," Miss Smith
heard. It vexed Miss Smith decidedly.
"Number?” said the girl.
"Pretty-little dear, such 'a pretty lit
tle dear you are." This was an ex
tremely clever bird and apparently,
from Mr. Stewart’s description of the
telephone girl, gifted with a sort of
long-distance X-ray sight.
The girl put the telephone up, and
when Mr. Stewart and two other as
sistant managers went to the room to
find out who was the affectionate per
son they found "Barbara" looking at
the telephone receiver, saying:
"Well, well, don't you know Polly’s
hungry ?”_ _ _
From Harper's Bazar.
In the matter of furs one can almost
say that everything Is used. Of course
fashion has this year, as usual, her fav
orites, but there is really no fur In the
long list that is not seen somewhere on
good suits and gowns. And more than
ever before Is fur used as trimmings.
In small bands and In the form of col
lars on coats and waists.
TAKE PERUNA FOR
COUGHS AND COLDS
If you used Pa
rana at the begin
ning of every cold
you would then ap
preciate the value
of this great rem
edy. Do not wait
until the cold has
fastened itself np
lon you. Take it at
the first symptom.
This is the way to
ward off the cold
so that it does you
no harm.
Peruna used In
S.B. HARTMAN. M. D. “f- °* *
Colmmbua, Ohio C°'d, PreVentS *
cough entirely.
Yes, I mean what I say. It pre
vents a cough. A cough is an effort to
expel catarrhal discharges in the bron
chial tubes. There would be no catarrhal
discharges in the bronchial tubes if Pe
runa was taken at the beginning of a cold,
therefore there would be no cough. Don’t
you catch the point f
After the cough begins Perona will
stop it just as quickly as it ought to
be stopped. To stop a cough before all
of the expectoration has been removed is
Its Natural Place.
"Where is this site you’re talking
about for your suburban cottage?”
"As yet. It is all in my eye.”
_ PIT.FS CURED IN 6 TO 14 DATS
Tour druggist will refund money If PAZO OINT
MENT fails to cure any case of Itching, Blind.
Blooding or Protrading Plies In 6 to 14 days. 60c.
Only Kind They Go To.
“She wrote her name on & new laid
egg”
“That’s a good way to catch some
one with money.”
Distinction.
Cora was fond of all-inclusive pray
ers, and one night she offered the fol
lowing discriminating petition: “Lord,
please bless mother and father and
all of us, and give us everything good;
and please bless our friends, and give
them what is good for them!”—Har
per’s Magazine.
to do great injury. After the expectora
tion has been properly removed the cough
I will stop itself. That is the only propel
way to stop a cough.
Occasionally a cough depends upon an
irritable condition of the larynx or bron
chial tubes, in which there is little or no
expectoration.
The problem of stopping such a cough
is a slightly different one. Even in those
cases Peruna ought to be taken, but some
times it is necssary that local treatment
be added.
But in any case Peruna is needed. Yoc
do not have to stop to write me. Get
Peruna at once and commence taking it.
You can get rid of that cough sooner I
believe than in any other way.
Should you wish to consult me at any
time while you are taking Peruna you are
at perfect liberty to write me. Your let
ters will be held strictly confidential and
you will receive prompt answer.
I want to stop that cough of yours.
I want to stop it before it really begins.
I want to stop it before it has a chance
to injure your lungs, an injury that you
may not recover from during yonr whole
life. Yes, I do. You do your part. I
will do mine. No. 54.
Don’t Persecute
Your Bowels
. Cut out cathartics and purgatives. They are
ache Mi IndlgeiUon, as milUeas know.
SMALL PILL, SMALL DOSE, SMALL PRICE,
Genuine must bear Signature
FOR WEAK
_ SORE EYES
g
■
■
.
>
The sin that Is spared because it
pays Is the one that kills.
Mrs. Winslow's Soothing Syrup for Children
teething, softens the gums, reduces inflamma
tion,allays pain,cures wind colic,25c a bottlejUn
There Is nothing a man will do
with so little encouragement as fish
ing.
Only One “BBOMO QUININK”
That la LAXATIVE BBOMO QUININE. Look
for the algnature of E. W. GROVE. Cures a Cold
In One Bay, Cures Grip In Two Baya. sc.
The right way to brighten the world
Is to do a good deal of your shining
at home.
Natural Result.
"That girl rings true.”
“Of course. She Is a fine belle.”
Charge for the advice you hand out
If you want people to take It
No Nostalgia.
H. Atterbury Smith, who, with his
open stairway plan promises to revo
lutionize the tenement house, said in
new York:
"The open stairway tenement, with
Its abundance of sunshine and fresh
air, will make a tenement apartment
actually a home. The tenement dwell,
er of the future needn’t feel like Capt.
Salt.
“ ‘I’ve sailed the seas for 57 years,'
Capt. Salt, a seasoned old ‘shellback,’
boasted.
“ ‘Don’t you ever get homesick, cap.
tain?’ a lady asked.
“ ‘Homesick? Me homesick?’ said
Capt. Salt. ‘No-sir-ee! I ain’t home
enough for that.’ ”
The devil considers It safe to sleep
In the church where the preaching
keeps nobody awake.
Why Women Have Nerves
The “blues”—anxiety—sleeplessness—and warnings of pain and dis-^^"
M 'tress are sent by the nerves like flying messengers throughout body and'
limbs. Such feelings may or may not be accompanied by backache or ■
headache or bearing down. The local disorders and inflammation, if there V
| Is any, should be treated with Dr. Pierce’s Lotion Tablets. Then the ■
nervous system and the entire womanly make-up feels the tonic effect of :g
no PTTDrP'C it
FAVORITE PRESCRIPTION I
when taken systematically and for any period of time. It Is not a"cure-all,” 8:
but has given uniform satisfaction for over forty years, being designed for *
thm tingU purpose of curing woman’s peculiar ailments. ■
Sold In liquid form or tablets by Eoery woman ought to possess The *
druggists—or send 50 one-cent SBHSrtfMS,;
Stamps tOT & box of Dr. Pierce S ^ pages. It answers questions of sex— V
f l Ad* Dr. R.V. Pierce, Buffalo, N.Y* * [ gencu doctor in pour own home. Send ] ‘
3 lactescent stamps to Dr. Pierce as above. >
Reader? of this paper desirin«to bu?
i\CuUCI 3 anything advertised in its col
umns should insist upon having what they
ask for.refusing all substitutes or imitations