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For Calumet never fails. Its
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bakings.
Cannot be compared with
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Even a beginner in cooking
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grocer knows. Ask him.
RECEIVED HIGHEST AWARDS
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Paris Exposition, France, March, 1912,
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HIb Grievance.
Tho court of appeal has finally de
cided against Mr. George Gray, the
well-known actor, in the action
brought against him by Miss Marie
Corelli for infringing tho copyright of
her novel, •'Temporal Power," In his
•ketch, "The People's King."
If Miss Corelli has a large circle of
readers who admire her books, there
la also a ’lumber of people who do
not Two men belonging to the op
posing camps, both well-known Jour
nalists. were discussing her the other
day.
“What 1 like about Miss Corelli,"
aald the om who admired tho au
thoress, "is that she Is so—so alive!"
"Yes, that's whnt 1 object to!" re
torted the other.—Pearson's Weekly.
ITCHING TERRIBLE ON LIMB
R. F. D. No. 3, Clarkfleld, Minn.—
"My trouble was of long standing. It
started with some small red and yel
low spots about the size of a pin head
on my leg and every morning there
was a dry sculo on top covering the
^fleeted part and when those scales
were falling off the Itching was more
than I could stand at times. The first
year 1 did not mind It so much as It
was only itching very badly at times,
hut the second year It advanced all
•round my leg and the itching waB
•terrible. I had to be very careful to
Bave my clothing around the affected
part very loose. At night time I often
happened to scratch tho Bore in my
•leep. Then 1 had to stand up, get out
of bed and w alk the floor till the spell
was over.
“I bought lots of salves and tried
many different kinds of medicine but
without any success. 1 got a cake of
Cuticura Soap and a llfty-cent box of
Cuticura Ointment and when I had
used them 1 was nearly over the itch
ing. But I kept on with the Cuticura
Soap for six weeltB and the cure was
complete.” (Signed) S. O. Gorden,
Nov. 20, 1912.
Cuticura Soap and Ointment sold
throughout the world. Sample of each
tree, with 32-p. Skin Book. Address post
card “Cuticura, Dept. L, Boston."—Adv.
Quite True.
Patience—1 see an international
eongress for physical education will
>e held in Paris in March.
Patrice—What's the use? We all
know it is a physical impossibility to
•ducate some people.
Accommodating.
“Drink to me only with thine eye6."
“All right; here’s looking at you!"—
Baltimore American.
EAST INDIA FUNERAL PYRE i
Immolation of Silent Figure While
Brother Looked on In
Bitter Grief.
Kven as we came opposite the bear
ers lifted one of them, all cool and
dripping, from tho river and set it,
the slim, small figure, so quiet, so
content, on a half-built pyre, C. F.
Henson writes in the Century. Brush
wood and fagots were built over it j
and at the head and foot and sides
the fire was applied. A Brahman di
rected the rites and once, as the
flumes mounted and aspired, the
brother, who was watching, clutched
at Ills heart as there appeared for a
moment at the top of tho pyre a
girl's face, with closed eyes and
mouth that seemed to smile; then the
radiant veil of flame shrouded it
again. The smoke rose in gray
whorls and streamers against the
stainless and tender blue of the sky,
and still the brother watched, quiet
again and composed; he had given
only that one sign to show that h®
loved her whose ashos now lay among
the charred and smoldering logs. Or
rather it was only for the moment
that, thinking of days of childhood
and dawns by the riverside, he forgot
that it was not sho who had been
consumed in the flames of the pyre.
Then he remembered again, and look
ing up from the pyre to the dazzling
river he saw there on our boat his
friend, the Brahman, and smiled to
him.
Perpetual Anecdote.
When Oliver Goldsmith was a youth
some young people at a gathering
were amusing themselves by trying to
see who could make tho ugliest face.
Many extravagant facial contortions
were on display.
At the conclusion the master of
ceremonies stepped up to Goldsmith
and said: "Sir, 1 think you have won
the prize."
"Oh," responded tho poet, "I wasn’t
playing."
This incident also happened to Fred
erick the Great, Dean Swift, William
the Silent, Louis XIV, Mr. Pepya, Ivan
the Terrible. Julius Caesar, Socrates
and Attila the Hun.—Kansas City
Journal,
The Attempt
"Did the new actress in the party
| try to do the swoon well?"
! "She made a faint effort.”
A woman knows her new hat isn't
becoming to her because her dearest
enemy tells her it is.
Mm Fight On Tliolr
»S Napoleon bo said. A man
4llUllla91l9 with a weak stomach is
A pretty sure to be a poor fighter. It is difficult—
r almost impossible—for anyone, man or woman.
If digestion is poor, to succeed in business or
socially—or toenjoy life. In tablet or liquid form
Dr. Pierce's
Golden Medical Discovery
! helps weak stomachs to strong, healthy action
helps them to digest the food that makes the good,
rich, red blood which nourishes the entire body.
This vegetable remedy, to a great extent, puts
i the liver into activity—oIIb the machinery of
* the human system so that those who spend their working hours at the desk,
behind the counter, or in the home are rejuvenated into vigorous health.
Hu brought relief to many thousands every year for over forty years. It can
relieve you and doubtless restore to you your former health and strength. At
kMt you owe it to yourself to give it a trial. Sold by Medicine Dealers or send 50c for
trial box of Tablets—Dr. Pierce* Invalid*’ Hotel & Surgical Institute. Buffalo JM.Y. ■">
Von can hav* Dr. Pieros’* Common Sons* Medical Motsar of 10M Pagoo for Slo.
aBIHniWWIlM I IlHIWDMIBMMMMBMMfiBBMMMHMMMMMMMMMMMMWBBMi
_’
A STERLING NOVEL OF THE GREAT
MIDDLE WEST
beMIDpDER5
Charles Tenney Jackson
'T-THE MVOF SOUISTMV BROTHERS
KEEPER etc. etc.
Copyright, 2912, The Eobba-Merrill Company.
CHAPTER XIII—(Continued).
The editor was musing. Janet, again.
Always Janet! Khe seemed behind
every manifestation of his new place in
the hearts of men, his awakened ambi
tions, his power to be himself. The
enfranchised and free companion, de
manding freedom, giving it; that was
what site had said the modem
woman could be! He was awaken
ing to this magnificence in Janet.
And yet she must love him—
she could do that also! And
slowly his dream grew to a vision of a
love past the common call of sex, a
passion ennobled by the riches of her
personality. There would be none of
the parastic clinging to a man, the
need of sentimentalizing shelter and
protection. The helper to power, the
counselor to a widening life—this
would be the woman to come! This
would be Janet!
He met the elder Vance next day,
Jake, the political farmer, the mal
content, an original Greenbacker, a
mugwump, party trouble-maker, for
ever given to standing about the
Square Saturday afternoons in his
motheaten, old buffalo coat arguing
with the countrymen. He could not
have been elected to any office, but he
had not soured. His children had in
herited his reasoning unrest, but they
had disciplined it to achievement.
"Somebody to beat Hall—somebody
to beat Hall!” he roared. "Folks say
it’s cornin’ to be you, Wiley! I get it
everywhere except in the News, and
in the banks and warehouses and the
court house! The county ain’t what it
used to be—there are mines and
factories—and libraries and labor
unions! The old gang doesn't real
ize that. It's you, Wiley, all the kick
ers want. And I hear you ain't got the
money? Ain’t some of these new real
estate men and boomers over in Earl
ville close to you for that?"
"Not much. Cal Rice and Thad are
In with ’em on most of their dealjc”
Jake went out in the frosty sunlight.
"Don’t forget,” he growled, “that
there’s a sight of people who ain’t in
any deals! Arne, let’s go homo and
feed stock with that contraption of
yours up in the haymow!” He looked
off across the Square to the window
of the school superintendent's office:
”1 guess that girl of mine is ready to
go home, too!"
Wiley watched the Vances drive off,
the three of them in Jake’s old buggy.
"Jake used to travel to political con
ventions in the smoker, and, at 12
o'clock, put a basket up between his
legs, spread a newspaper on his knees,
eat his chicken and sweet pickles, and
■then pitch the paper out the window,
but when Arne comes back from col
lege he eats In the diner and uses a
finger bowl,” he told Aunt Abby. “And
they have two hired girls at the farm!
Janet and Arne make up the price of
the dining car and the maids by figur
ing out soil analysis, or new school
methods and don't bother their heads
with picking chickens, or putting up
' nnehf s.”
18
Uncle Michigan turned to Aunt Abby—
'You’re church folks, and I done been
an ole whisky peddler Johnny Keb.”
’’You done been an old fool. Uncle
Michigan! You sit right here till sup
per’s ready!"
‘Right here till supper's ready!” add
ed Mr. Curran. "Here's some more of
this letter—”
“Cut not any word about cornin’
home!"
"She'll get home. She says up in
Waterloo the comedian got drunk and
nearly busted up the show. And that
night they had to cut out her big situ
ation."
"What?” gasped Aunt Abby. "cut out
her—what?”
"I swear—”
"Well, it can't be serious or they’d
telegraphed! ”
‘I guess so. She says Mr. Hanbury
changes his play so much they just
can't keep up with it in rehearsals, but
that Sol Gratz thinks pretty soon they
will get it all over.”
"Get over what—over the operation
I suppose, Wiley?”
"She’s picking up this stage slang
so fast she must be getting on. I swear
it’s a fine letter.”
Aunt Abby was peeking at it over
his shoulder. What’s that? She asks
if any one ever hears from Harlan Van
Hart?"
Wiley sighed. "Yes. She—sort of
knew Harlan.” He folded up the let
ter and handed It to Uncle Michigan,
who stared at it as if it was a jewel.
"I reckon.” mumbled Uncle Michi
gan. “you done better keep this in your
safe at the office. Mr. Curran.”
“That safe rusted shut in ’9G, Uncle
Mich—the time the creek flooded the
News office—and it’s never been opened
since.”
"Well, you better keep this letter in
the clock, Mr. Curran—or somewhere.
I wouldn’t lose it for the best leg I got.”
He handed It back to Mr. Curran, and
the editor locked it in the clock case
"When I git lonesome. I’ll come up here
and well’ll read it all over again. Kind
o’ lonesome at the ole place.
John he's sourin' on the world.
Keeps the boys cuttln’ brush. And the
baby’s ailin’. And the woman’s frettin’.
Seems like the sun don’t shine so
bright since Aurelie went away.”
"Don’t you worry. Uncle Mich. She’ll
come back rich and famous, and every
body’ll be happy, and she'll give a show
in the tin opera house.”
Uncle Michigan's eyes shone again.
“Just as Ole Captain Tlnkletoes proph
esied down in Louisany! She'll done
grow up to occupy the land!”
Mr. Curran’s eyes shone, too. He had
been told Aurelie’s fantastic story, oh,
these many times! He had gilded it,
enshrined It—loved it.
“Our little girl. Uncle Mich!” he cried.
"Out In the big world fighting her way,
and not being scared! I never think
of how she came to me but I want to
gather her up and shelter her, protect
her”-—he stopped slowly—“love her—”
he sighed. Then he turned away from
them and looked down the hill to his
shop. "Eh. well! I reckon I am the
man who is In a state of arrested de
velopment concerning women!"
CHAPTER XIV.
"Well, there’ll come tin end," she
warned; “'tain’t In nature for a farm
to stand two hired girls, or even one!”
He laughed: "Get on the band
wagon, Aunty!” Then behind her, In
(lie fragrant kitchen, he saw Old
Michigan warming his leg across the
wood-box. Michigan grinned ex
pectantly:
"Done got a letter from our little
girl, Mr. Curran!” And I done brought
it up here first thing for you to read.”
"Aurelie?" Wiley was conscious of
a disappointment that she had not
written him. She had sent a post card
from some town, with a blithe com
ment, but little news, only that every
thing was all right. Now he reached
eagerly for the letter in the old soldier's
hands. Aunt Abby stopped her cook
ing as he tore It open. Then they lost
the world in Aureli’s tale of wonders.
"What she done say, Mr. Curran?”
"Fine! Says you'd look good to her,
now. Uncle Mich. She's having the
time of her life. Everybody's good to
her, and helps her, and the McFetrldge
boys are just grand and everything's
grand.” Wiley looked shlnning-eyed
around: "Thut's the most of It—Just
grand.”
"Wiley,” said Aunt Abby severely, “I
did hope she'd not get her head turn
ed!”
“Not a bit. She says: "Uncle Mitch,
the first night 1 was scared, and when
1 walked out there and tried to see
over the lights I Just wilted—Inside!
Mr. Gratz stood In the wings with the
book, and Hen McFetrldge kept
waving to me not to cross so far, wid
Mr. Feldman kept whispering some
thing from the other side, so I guess I
must have looked scared. I tried to
speak and couldn't say a word, and I
looked hopelessly off, and there was
Mr. Harfbury having a regular tit be
cause 1 was going to spoil his play. He
kept shouting to himself and dancing
around: “Dried—1 knew it!" Then
that made me mud, and 1 glared at
him, and then 1 heard what Morris
Feldman was trying to whisper, and
1 said, "Father, I am here.” And Just
right, too, Sol Gratz says—just like the
haughty young beauty 1 was supposed
to be, who's under suspicion of being
a thief. Because 1 was mad at Mr.
Hanbury and his old play! And every
time I lost my lines they all helped
me—every one, and you ought to have
seen what the papers said!” cried Mr.
Curran—"I wish I'd seen that paper!”
"Go on," said Uncle Michigan.
“When’s she coming home?"
"Don’t say,” answered Wiley. "Says
the hotels ure pretty bad, and the
theaters are cold and dirty, but it’s just
a glory! Oh. lord—Aurelie!”
"Dikes it?” queried Aunt Abby, from
her doughnuts.
“Says she's got a mission! To up
lift the stage! Oh, lord—Aurelie!"
"Hut when’s she cornin' home?"
quavered Uncle Michigan.
And looking in Michigan's eye, Mr.
Curran saw a tear.
"She doesn't say. Uncle Mich. She
just says she's sending a number of
things for 'you all" out at the Docket—■
with the first money she ever earned!
Christmas presents for you and Knute
atid l’ete and the baby, and Albert and
Mrs. Dindstrom —and for John."
"And John, he prayed so mighty hard
he chased her off the place! Beckon
she's the same old girl, Mr. Curran."
“Sure, 1 think so, Uncle Michigan.”
"Don't reckon this yere stage busi
ness’ll ever change her a mite, Mr.
Curran?”
"Hope not. Uncle Michigan. Darn
the smoke—it's getting in our eyes,
ain't it?" Mr. Curran coughed and
spluttered; he didn't want to see the
tears on Michigan’s whiskers. The old
man thumped the wooden leg on the
box and against the stove preparing to
get out of the house. "Uncle Michigan,”
said Mr. Curran, “stay to supper and
we'll talk about Aureile. Gee whiz, I
hope that little girl makes good!”
“You want me to stay to supper?”
BACK TO THE OLD TOWN.
Spring comes about Rome by simple
tokens. In the black bottoms the wil
lows gently free themselves from the
soiling snow, bend upward ever so I
lightly, and presently are wands of
furry gray. In the clay gaps of the
hills one hears the tinkle of water un
der ice and over rock, answering the
first call of the robins. The rabbit
tracks along tho fences drabble down
to mere muddy markings in the snow
and then are lost in the first faint
green. Also, in town, housewives hang
their rugs on the porches and beat
them, stopping to look up at the blue
and breathe, as if the winter’s housing
had taken a bit out of their souls which
now was coming back; and one sees
the children digging their toes in the
mud on their way to school, testing
eagerly its release from the frost.
But chiefly, in Rome people know
spring has come when Rube Van Hart
disappears. When the former leaguer
began to climb the hills in February
and look off south; and when his work
In Carmichael’s stable grew slack and
his eyes vacant and his promises to
coach the high school ball team more
vague; and when he came silently in
the News office to read the “pink uns"
of the Chicago papers, paid no atten
tion to Jim Mims, the tramp printer
asking for a chew, or to Wiley when
he asked who looked good for the sec
ond cushion with the Cubs since Dela
hanty was sold—paid no attention to
any one at all, but wandered down to
the Junction and dreamily read the
names of the box cars jogging down
tho cut. why then it was safe to set
out garden truck—spring had come.
Then the News announced that Ru
fus Adrian Van Hart, one time catcher
with the Cubs, had gone south to help
with the spring try-outs at San An
tonio and would also get himself in
condition. This pleased Rube and all
tho town kids and hurt nobody. Poor
old Rube was merely stowed in a box
car getting away just because spring
called and baseball was here and he
could not help it. Among tHe Van Harts
there was no accounting for Rube.
And when Rube came back to town
the women knew it was near time to
take in house plants and let the chil
dren go for hazelnuts, and resume the
lapsed work of the Shakespeare club.
With Rube watch for a nip of frost.
But now spring, and Uncle Michigan
spading up Mr. Curran’s garden, dis
puting with hts hour keeper while they
knelt in the black damp earth over a
package of seeds magnanimously dis
tributed by the Honorable James S.
Hall. M. C. Their voices came to the
editor at his desk. Jim Mims had gone
to the blind tiger in the haymow of
Carmichael's livery stable; and Aleck,
the press boy had stolen off to Sin
creek to see if it was yet good bullhead
fishing.
"If I’m going to congress,” murmured
the editor. T must fire this spring fever
and scold everybody into working." He
was watching Janet Vance tie her
team of colts to the county yard hltcn
lng rail, her trim, blue figure against
the young elm green. She looked at
her watch decisively. It was early for
a county officer to b.e down town. She
came across the street with her direct
and springy step and to the News door.
The editor took his feet off the desk
and waved his hand lazily.
“Janet, let’s go fishing Let's get Old
Mowry’s wagon and take Aunt Abby
and Jim Mims—if he's sober—und
Mich and Aleck and all go fishing.”
’’Wiley, that’s what you've always
done the first spring weather. But
this year—now—”
"Don't finish it. Now—congress—”
"I drove In behind your back lot,”
she went on calmly, "and I see that
the W. C. T. U. ladies are right. The
size of that pile of beer bottles in your
alley. Just suppose you'd bough*
books all your Nfe Instead of beer?”
“Janet,” Curran smiled at her, "I
never had a place to put the books all
my life. But there's always been a
place for beer.”
She looked at him In her old despair.
"Now—now—’’ he went on and waved a
hand at her, "don't scold. I'm up—I’m
doing! In for a career—congress—
anything! But the weather, Janet!
Can’t a fellow sit once in a while over
his pipe—and watch you through the
smoke, perhaps—and dream?”
She shook her head. "I know,” he
went oil lugubriously. "The problem
with the new woman is, will she ever
let a man go fishing?"
She smiled but continued her direct
ness: "Tom Purc.ell, of Eariville, is
going to take the active management
of your campaign this summer. The
committee of the Progressive league
decided on him.”
lie shrugged. Up the cliff back of
his shop the bluebirds were calling.
The committee of the nascent Pro
gressive league—and Janet—had kept
Mr. Curran plugging rather steadily
all winter. He had addressed farmers'
institutes and gone to state confer
ences of the progressive, had met Gov
ernor Delroy and the men of the state
organization—"glad-handed around the
circle," as he put—and had also gone
among the men of his own county,
lodge meetings, church fairs, district
school entertainments. And on Arne's
visits from school they had taken long
drives to lonely pr.ecjnts where they
had discussed farm problems from
Arne’s new angles, and Wiley had told
the men simply and frankly that he
wanted them to vote for him In the
primary.
"I don’t know any other politics,” he
assured Janet.
"You don’t need to. The county
crowd knows now your candidacy is
not a joke. I hear Judge Van Hart
has written Congressman Hall that
he’d better come home and look over
Ills constituency. They feel you,
Wiley.”
Wiley opened a benign eye. “Appar
ently, Tanner and Rice and Boydston
are organizing this Retail Merchants’
association, the secret motive of which
is to get the town's advertising with
held from the News. That’s one angle
of the fight. Janet, I shan't have an
advertiser left except th,e undertaker
and he wants me to take it out in
trade ”
"Be serious, Wiley!” she retorted—
and then Uncle Michigan stuck his old
squirrel skin cap in the window.
"April, Mr. Wiley, and dewberries air
ripe down in Louisiany!”
"And the mocking birds are singing
in the canebrakes. Uncle Mich!"
“And if the ole house boat wasn’t
done stuck hard and fast up yer.e—
and if my little girl hadn't done gone
off In the show busines, I’d—”
"Uncle Mich!" roared the candidate,
pounding the desk—“shut up, or I'll
never get to congress! Blue birds up
Eagle point! Bullhead fishing! Alint
Abby sowing lettuce! Get out of her
with it all! Take April with you!”
“Uncle Michigan," smiled Miss
Vance, "we’re trying to talk business.
Now you know that business and Mr.
Wiley—"
“Fine!" cried the candidate—“Undo
Mich—"
Old Mich took oft his cap. "Miss
Vance, I know what gets Mr. Wiley.
Done been my little girl!”
Miss Vance was impassive, Mr. Cur
ran amjably evasive. "Your little girl?
Mich, you old scoundrel, you haven’t
a sign of title to her. Why don't you
tell us all—who was Aurelte, to begin
with, and who was Captain Tinkle
toes? It isn't right to wink and grin
when people ask you about her—peo
ple never know what to believe!”
“Reckon decent people believe only
what's "Ood—and the others don't
count. But my little girl come of bet
ter stock than those big bugs on High
street."
“Well, who?”
Then Uncle Michigan did his abom
inable old trick. He leaned close and
shut one eye tight and opened the
other very wide, drew up his face so
that th.e white whiskers, sticking out In
all directions, made his face like a
sunflower. Then he exploded his fa
mous joke: “She done come from the
holy family!"
Then he doubled over with laugh
ter. That settled them! He roared it
to Father Doyle when the good priest
tried to settle Aur.elie's patrimony; he
chuckled it to Aunt Abby and the Ep
worth league ladles; he discomfited Mr.
Curran and all the town with it—his
little girl was descended from the holy
family!
“Uncle Michigan." put in Miss
Vance distantly, "what is Aurelie do
ing these days?”
"I dun-no exactly. Mr. Wiley will
read you her letters.
The Land Question in Mexico.
From the Christian Herald.
When General Villa, the rebel com
mander In Mexico, issued his decree
confiscating the vast estates of the
Creel and Terrazas families in behalf
of the people, he let in a light which
strikes very close to the heart of the
real problem in that republic. One
must go deeper than the news in the
dally press to find the cause of the
troubles in Mexico, and the reason for
the continued unrest, out of which has
sprung the apparently endless succes
sion of revolutions in that country. It
is the old evil of the absorption of
the land and the exploitage of the com
mon people by clever and unscrupulous
men singly and in combination. They
want the land and the right to share
in its products. At the present time
700 patrician families own practically
the whole of agricultural Mexico. The
people also want the total abolition of
peonage, which is simply slavery. They
had a glimpse of greater possibilities
during Madero's administration; hut
these were swept away by the rise of
Huerta. It is their struggle for the
realization of these hopes that has won
for them the sympathy of lovers of
I progress and justice everywhere.
The Helpinq Hand.
From the New York Herald.
That the appointment of a receivership
! for important dry goods houses will be
cited as evidence of business depression
| is a foregone conclusion. “i alamtty
howlers " republicans ousted from office,
and inveterate “bears” are not likely to
let slip any opportunity to cry ' I told
vnu so“ or repeat the old old warnings
of ruin that must be wrought by the demo
cratic party's policy.
lint all that Is a matter of politics ana
has nothing whatever to do with the dif
ficulties of these dry goods firms. The
plain truth is. they have made an error
of calculation that has no general sig
nificance.
Their difficulties can be easily sur
mounted if othe- big dry goods firms come
to the rescue. Just as in a financial crisis
banking interests combine to help a strick
en brother.
Liverpool has completed the world's
largest drydoek. 1.020 feet long and IBB
feet wide at the later line, the only
one In the world large enough to re
ceive the new 50.000-ton liners
! NO POSSIBILITY OF HELP
—
Actor Had Been Called orr So Often
That Further Assistance Was
Out of the Question.
i When "September Morn” was to it*
; Anal week of rehearsal a bare spot
| in act III. gave unbounded annoyance
■ to the actors, and the managers, the
librettist, who was appealed to agaia>
! and again to do something to brighten
, a scene which was simply talk, and
i yet ’could not be cut out without
throwing awry the stage director"*
scheme of songs, dances and costum*
changes. The librettist at length;
made this appeal to "Dave” Lewis, th*
star of the piece:
"Say, old fellow, you’ve been ti
comedian for 20 years and must hav*
a trunkful of hokum. Won’t you dig
' down into it and fish up something
that will help us over this spot?”
Mr. Lewis’ answer was:
"I’ve been an actor for 20 years,
^fcnd I had a trunkful of hokum. But
I’ve dug down bo often fixing up th*
first and second acts that the trunk’s
empty and there’s a hole in the bot
tom.”
vJniy Uno dkOMO QUININE
To pet the genuine, call for full name, LAXA
TIVE BROMO QUININE. Look for signature of
, B. W, GROVE. Cures a Cold io One Day. 25c.
HEAVIEST HORSE ON RECORD
Figures Show Clydesdale Weighed
More Than Any Animal of His
Kind Known to History.
The weight of the heaviest horsa
ever known was 3.000 pounds. Thia
horse, a Clydesdale, was exhibited in
New York in 1889. It was 21% hand*
high and although onl^ five years old
measured 32 inches round the arm.
45 inches round the stifle or knee
joint, 95 inches girth, 34% round the
hip and 11 feet lour inches in length.
It was of perfect proportions, with a
head 35 inches in length. A French,
authority gives the weight of horses
as follows: Excluding ponies, which
have an average weight of 440 pounds
the weight of horses varies from 660
to 1,540 pounds. The weight of cart
horses varies between 1,100 and 1,540
Jn'inds. The weight of car and
'«oupe horses, which is about the same
./.is that of cavalry horses, varies be
tween 990 and 1,056 pounds. These
weights are for adult animals.
Dr. Pierce’s Pleasant Pellets regulate
and invigorate stomach, liver and bowels.
Sugar-coated, tiny granules. Easy to take
as candy. Adv.
\ "They Say! They Say!"
Wife—The cashier at the bank says
you are just the meanest, stingiest—
Husband—Great Scott! Wha—what
Is that? He says—
“Well, he didn’t say It in so many
words, but that is what he meant, of'
course.”
“Look here! What did the fellow
say ?”
"He asked me to indorse the check,
and, when I told him I didn’t know
what he meant he said he presumed
I hadn’t had much experience in get
ting checks cashed—so there!”
From Many, One.
"This is our most valuable fowl,"
and the amateur hen farmer.
“A fine breed,” remarked the visitor,
trying to look wise.
"Yes indeed. We have named her
E Pluribus Unum.”
“Why the name?” the visitor ques
tioned.
"She came from the only egg that
hatched of fifty in the incubator."
Every man is hie own master or
else a slave for others.
THIS WOMAN’S
SICKNESS
Quickly Yielded To Lydia E.
Pinkham’s Vegetable
Compound.
Baltimore, Md. — “I am more than
glad to tell what Lydia E. Pinkham’s
Vegetable Com
pound did for me.
I suffered dreadful'
pains and was very
irregular. I became
alarmed and sent fort
Lydia E. Pinkham’a
Vegetable Com
pound. I took it reg
ularly until I wa»
without a cramp or
pain and felt like*
, another person, and
i it has now been six months since I took
| any medicine at all. I hope my little
! note will assjst you in helping other wo
' men. I now feel perfectly well and in
i the best of health.—Mrs. August
W. Kondner, 1632 Hollins Street, Bal
j, ticaore, Md.
Lydia E. Pinkham’s Vegetable Com
1 pound, made from native roots and
herbs, contains no narcotic or harmful
! drugs, and to-day holds the record of
; being the most successful remedy for
; female ills we know of, and thousands
of voluntary testimonials on file in the
Pinkham laboratory at Lynn, Mass.,
seem to prove this fact.
’ For thirty years it has been the stand
i ard remedy for female ills, and has re
I stored the healthcf thousands of women
who have been troubled with such ail
; ments as displacements, inflammation,
, ulceration, tumors, Irregularities, etc.
i If you want special advlco
write to Lydia E. Piukham Med
icine Co-, (confidential) Lynn,
Mass. Your letter will be opened,
read and answered by a woman
and field in strict confidence.
