The Upstairs Rooms.
From the Woman's World.
When the Grahams planned the re
decoration of their home, it was de
\ elded to tint the bedroom walls with
f water color. "It is ever so much cheap
' er than paper,” Ellen announced in tri
umph as she emerged from a sea of fig
ures, "and so dainty and clean looking.”
“I really think I prefer plain walls in
a sleeping room, anyway," decided Mrs.
Graham, “they are so restful.”
“I, too!” agreed her daughter, em
phatically. "Counting the gilt blobs on
my wall paper nearly drove me insane
when I was ill last winter, and don't
you remember how excited I used to
► get, hunting out faces in those wiggly
\ green scrolls? Plain it shall be; but
k what color will you have?”
» "Yellow,” promptly. "I’ve been want
ing a ‘sunshine room’ for years, and
never could understand why the former
, owners papered a north room with
* blue.”
“I’ll have the ‘blues’ then, since you
don’t care for them,” laughed Ellen.
“My room has plenty of sun, and water
color fortunately doesn’t fade like pa
per. Pet's do the spare room in laven
der and cream. There's a gorgeous
wistaria border in my stencil book.”
"That will be lovely. And what for
Bobby's room? I had thought of
pink--”
"Red!” corrected the 12-year-old
anxiously over the top of his "Joger
phry.”
“But, dear," objected his mother, “it
seems to me a more delicate color
would be prettier. Perhaps a pale
green-’’
He shook his head in vtgorour dis
sent. “Red,” he repeated firmly. “It’s
my fav’rite color.”
“Of course,” his mother granted hesi
tantly; “I want you to have what you
like best in your room, but red seems
so dark and heavy. How would it do
to make the walls a pretty cream color
and then use the red for the curtains
and cushions?”
"I said red,” persisted Bobby, inflex
ibly. "Red walls, red carpet, ’nd—ev
erything.”
"Tell you what, Bobs,” coaxed his
sister, "let’s compromise. We’ll make
a dado of the liveliest kind of red, and
, paint the rest of the walls a sort of
i greenish tan, like your khaki soldier
^ suit. Then I’ll do a stunning border of
wild geese—look here,” and she pointed
to the design in the catalog of stencils.
"What’s a 'dado'?” queried the boy in
a less aggressive tone, regarding the
flying geese with kindling eye.
"Oh, all right,” he approved, the ex
planation being satisfactory, “but be
sure you make it the reddest red they
Is.”
Ruts and How to Got Out.
Mabel Gifford Shine, in Nautilus.
When you find wrinkles coming, con
sider your thoughts, and see what is
L there that is working the mischief. Is
f it a belief in wrinkles and old age? 13
it a belief in disease and sickness? Is
It care? Is it struggle—trying to live
better than one can afford? Is it envy,
pride, hurry, worry, excitement, fear,
a bad conscience? Is it jealousy, en
mity, fault finding, impatience, suspi
cion? Are you thinking the worst or
the best of everybody and everything?
Pessimism will make wrinkles faster
than care, for it goes everywhere and
is present at all times.
Even right thoughts make wrinkles if
they are held on to. Right thoughts
must be progressive. The law of life is
progress; growth; if you stand still, if
you travel back and forth in one line
of thought, never branching out or
flooking beyond, you will wear ruts in
your mind and they will be mirrored
in your face. This kind of wrinkle mak
ing means bigotry, prejudice; all kinds
of narrow mindedness.
We get into ruts in our work, and in
our recreations; in our religion, and in
odr method of houseKeeping; in the
training of the children, and in our
ideas on all subjects. We get a set of
methods for the managing of our life,
and a set of ideas about life, and there
we settle down and stick; our religion,
or creed, rather, is the only right one;
and it never grows, Just stays where it
first developed. Our methods are the
only correct ones, and our ideas are
the only true ideas about life.
In order to prevent wrinkles we have
to reverse these habits, step out of our
narrow mind and cutivate broad mind
edness; change the pessimist for the
optimist. There are plenty of things
to be glad about, and the more you
think of them the more you see. In
stead of a fault finder, be an approval
finder. Whatever you think of contin
ually, you are more and more of, for
thought is light, or a door that opens
to the light and lets it In.
War Children Are Grave.
From the New York Mail.
People simply will believe that there
Is to be peace soon, though there isn't.
Elderly people will recall the civil war
days, when the war, from Bull Run
straight on. was, to the elder generation,
always coming to an end in a month or
two. It was in the south, though, where
j the trouble was most desperate, that
. people believed most Implicitly In an
P early termination of the war. And the
war went on and on, until hearts were
broken and four years were gone.
In 1861 all the north knew that the
confederacy “couldn’t hold out four
months longer," but It held out all those
years. But the children! They did not
look for the end of the war. Some of
them had come up to an understanding
age and could not remember when the
war was not raging—when mothers and
sisters were not weeping and praying,
and fathers or grandfathers were not
sitting grim and silent and strained, as
if waiting for their own sentence of
death. To these children who could re
member nothing but the war it some
times seemed as if the war must always
he—as if that were the way the world
was made.
People who were children during the
civil war and who were old enough or
keenly conscious enough to understand
what it meant, took an impress of seri
ousness upon their minds and souls which
the next generation quite escaped. Things
sank in deeply in those days. The fire
of war left a condition of susceptibility
in the minds and memory of that gen
eration, breeding a sensitiveness to all
great and solemn things. Doubtless it
will he so with the children of this time
In Europe. The gravity of it all will go
into the art and literature of the future.
Von Timitz a Typical Sea Dog.
From the World's Work.
Admiral von Tirpitz’s character Is
chiefly that of an old salt. With his
forked beard, his large, round face, his
huge bulk, he physically looks the part
of Neptune. With a genuine sailor, he
can easily unbend; he can roar out a
• sailor’s ditty with the best of them;
" his business and his relaxations are all
nautical; even his favorite drink, ac
cording to tradition, is North sea sea
foam. If he has one enthusiasm, It is
the British navy; he admires Its his
tory, its traditions, its great achieve
ments. If fate in recent years has
transformed him Into an Anglophobe,
' that certainly Is not his chosen role;
for Nelson, Drake, Hawkins and the
other great British sea rovers became
the guiding Influence In his life. More
over, he likes not only English naval
ideas, but England Itself, his children
have gained their education, in part in
England. This inclination, according to
his advisers, he hus transferred to the
United States.
A Pocket Cash Register.
From Popular Mechanics.
For the convenience of persons who like
to keep an account of their daily expendl
► tures without bothering jvlth a pencil and
notebook, a pocket cash register has been
invented and placed on the market iu
France.
f ' ■
1111 1111 IHI
iff MARY MIDTHORNE 1
. BY
GEORGE BARR MeCUTCTIEON.
] Author of "Graustark,” “Truxton King,” etc.
_Copyright. 1911. By Dodd. Mead A Co.
till III! llll
CHAPTER VII—(Continued).
"Eric,” he said at last, abject wear
iness In his voice, "I am about to ask
a great favor of you. Will you let
this matter rest for awhile? I—I don't
know what came over me. It was
not like anything that ever has hap
pened to me before, not in all my life.
I seem to have gone utterly out of my
nead. Wait! Please do not speak. Lis
ten to me. 1 am about to confess
something to you. When you first came
into this room and said that—that
Chetwynd had taken your drawing, I
felt that you spoke the truth. I do
not know why I should believe this
of my own son, but—but I was no more
able to help It than it was In my pow
er to check the working of my mind.
The horrible fit of anger—the dread
ful language, I cannot explain. I do
not understand it myself. Wait. Yes, I
do understand. It was because I knew
that you knew. It was because there
was no one else on whom I could vent
my rage and shame. I hated you, Eric,
in those few moments, those awful mo
ments. You will never know how I
hated you. Perhaps you can under
stand why. I wanted to be prou'd of
Chetwynd. You struck that pride a
deadly blow. You were responsible for
my awakening. I cried out as the
sleeper does when he is rudely dis
turbed from serenity of peaceful slum
ber—I cried out In anger against the
awakening. I wanted to kill you. It
was In my heart to do so. I love Chet
wynd. He is all that life holds for me.
Do you follow me?”
"Yes, sir,” said Eric still In a maze.
"It is not too late for me to save
him. He shall not go down. By God,
he shall be a man. I will lift him up,
I will force him up. He shall not falter
again. I have never failed In any un
dertaking. I will not fall in this. He
must be absolved. There Is no al
ternative. He must stand right with
the world, with me, and with him
self. Now, listen to me. Don’t let a
wui u juu. x muugwv wui
as I lay there on the couch. You can
ruin him, perhaps—or at least cast dis
credit on him. It is my duty to pre
vent that very thing happening. You
have got to let this matter rest."
"But, uncle,” began Eric.
Mr. Blagden came a few steps
nearer. Even in the dim light Eric
could see the exalted light In his eyes.
“There is no alternative. He must
be spared, so that I may help him
while my hand is strong, while my
love is great and capable of generos
ity. I shall have to ask you to say
nothing about this until I have talked
it over with him. There may be some
mistake. I may be wrong in my con
clusions. God knows that I hope I am.
I would give all that I possess if I
could be sure that you have lied to
me, if I could drive out of my mind
that first revolting doubt. But It has
taken root, the seed of distrust is well
sown. I doubt my son. I can only
hope that his side of the story may
not be so dark as I fear it. There may
be extenuating circumstances.” A
great hope took root in his soul and
he voiced it. “It is not Improbable
that you tried to profit by his ideas.
You may be as culpable as he is, In an
indirect way. Stop! Do not defend
yourself. It isn't necessary. I am
merely theorizing. I recall that the
two designs, as presented, are along
the same general lines, the same
thought is expressed. I noted a sim
ilarity. He may have been Justified
in keeping you from realizing on his
Ideas and his experience. If he discov
ered in any way that you, being a bet
ter draughtsman than he, concluded to
benefit by his ideas after coming Into
possession of them, either innocently
or maliciously—”
Eric’s indignation burst its bounds.
“You know that isn’t true, Uncle
Horace he cried out. 'I never saw his
design, I never talked with him about
it.”
“What are you going to say if he
declares that you did take—” began
Mr. Blagden harshly.
But he could not deceive himself. He
bit his lip and turned his face away for
an Instant.
“No, Eric,” he went on, in an altered
tone, “I won't put it that way. I am
about to bare myself to you, and it is
best that we should understand each
other.”
He paced back and forth across the
room several times, his brow knitted,
his hands clasped tightly behind his
back.
Eric felt a sudden, keen sense of
iubiliation. “Are you going to have Mr.
Presbrey talk it over with him?” he
asked.
Mr. Blagden stopped in his tracks,
and starred at the questioner.
"No,” he said, bringing his lips to
gether in a thin line. “This is not a
matter for Presbrey—at least, not at
present. My boy. I am desperate, quite
desperate. I don't know why I should
believe this thing you have told me, as
I said before, but I do believe it. I
am convinced that your drawing has
won the prize that goes to Chetwynd.
1 don't know how it all came about. He
may not have been wholly responsible,
but the fact remains that the drawing
is yours. I am a fair man. I grant
that it is your design. But, above all
things, I am a Blagden. The name has
been dragged in the dust by one mem
ber of the family—your mother. That,
of course, is something you could not
have helped. But you can help me now
In the effort to keep it from being fur
ther dishonored. I shall expect you to
do so. It Is hard, I appreciate, for you
to sit calmly and see the prize go to an
other under the conditions. But that my
boy, is just what you will have to do."
He spoke slowly, emphasising each
word with a sort of snapping of his
tongue as the breath escaped from the
confinement of his throat.
“What do you mean?” asked Eric,
perplexed.
“Just this: the situation must remain
as it is. You have nothing to lose,
while I, your aunt, even Chetwynd—ah,
we have so much tq lose. But three
people know of this, I fancy—we three.
Unless—ah, but I am sure you could
not have been such a fool as to say
anything to Mr. Porter before consult
ing me. I can see by your face that
you did go so far as that.”
“You mean," said Eric, In low, un
even tones, "that I am to let Chetwynd
have the prize without a word for my
self?”
"Yes. That, and nothing else."
"But I will not submit to—"
“You will do Just as I say, sir,” said
his uncle calmly. "As I have said be
fore, it is for the good of the family.
We must think of that, you and I, as
“Why should I think of your family?"
cried Eric recklessly. "You've never
though of mine. You and Mr. Pres
brey have read my mother and father
into hell fire. You haven't left me any
thing to be grateful for. I won’t—"
"Btop, sir! Not another word. The
A.*t
.ases are not parallel. We have a
chance to save a boy's soul, as well as
Ills honor. It was not I who damned
Mary and Philip Mldthome. They saw
to that well enough for themselves. But
[ did not mean to hurt you. Forgive
me.”
"I can't forgive everything," groaned
the boy.
"You owe me a great deal more than
you can ever realize. It was I. Eric, who
took you and Mary by the hand and
lifted yot\ up from the dirt, into which
you were cast. It is I who have given
you an honored, a noble place in the
world. And how? By means of a
name that, of Itself, stands unsullied.
No man has ever questioned the name
of Bladgen. With that name to sup
port you, you have become a credit and
a—• yes, a blessing to Corinth. That
name will carry you to fields of greater
honor and distinction. So long us It is
behind you In the—er—you might say
the flesh and blood, you have nothing
to fear. I represent the name. 1 ani
the name. If I cast you off, the world
will never pick you up. There you
have It. Do I make myself clear?”
It did not occur to Eric to resent the
sublime egotism in this speech. At
any other time he would have snick
ered, perhaps, for he had a rare sense of
humor, but now he could not fail to be
Impressed by the seriousness of his un
cle’s words.
“Am I to understand. Uncle Horace,
that if I say anything about Chetwynd
stealing my—”
"Don’t use that word,” snapped Mr.
Blagden.
"If I mention It.” modified the boy,
“you will kick me out?”
"I will not have anyone about me
who wilfully, deliberately seeks to de
stroy the credit of the name I bear,”
said the other, succinctly.
“How about Chetwynd?”
"Do you mean to argue all night with
me ?”
"I should have some rights, sir.”
"You are too young to talk about
rights. You will have them when the
proper time comes. I will see to that.
This little disappointment you’ve ex
perienced today is but a trifle in the
harvest of pleasures you may reap
with my help and my friendship. Lis
ten, Eric. I am very serious. I must
Insist that you look at this from my
point of view. It means so much to
me. It can mean very little to you. In
a week, you will have forgotten the
pangs of disappointment, while I could
never hold up my head again in Cor
inth if you were to tell this story to the
world. People would believe enough
of it to make life a hell for me. I
could not beat it down. It would never
die. And Chetwynd’s only chance
would be gone. He can be saved. He
must be saved. He is not a bad boy at
heart. He—he has been sopiled.”
The man’s lip trembled, and his voice
show ever so slightly in the utterance
of this humiliating confession.
It was on the point of Eric's tongue
to blurt out the ugly tale of Chetwynd’s
treatment of Mary, but he held back his
words. This was an affair between him
and Chetwynd.
“It’s hard, mighty hard, Uncle Hor
ace," he said, dropping into a chair and
putting his face in his hands.
"We all have hard duties to perform.
We all have harsh debts to pay, my
lad."
"What are you going to say to Chet
wynd, If I do keep still? He will know
that I know. It—it will be awkward."
“I shall demand of him the truth. 1
shall compel him to go to you and ad
mit his—er—his error. You may—’’
“I’d rather you’d not ask him to do
that,” objected Eric, in stifled tones.
"It’s best not to do it. Let it go as
It Is. Say what you like to him. Uncle,
but don’t let him come to me about it.
I’ll—I'll let it stand as it is, but I won't
have anything more added to it. That's
what It would mean if he tried to apolo
gise. We couldn’t get through with it
gracefully, that’s all.”
Mr. Blagden placed his hand on the
bent shoulder of the defeated boy.
“I am glad that you see It as you
should see it, Eric. You have taken the
proper course, believe me. I shall not
forget it. It Is understood, then, that—
er, ahem!—that it goes no farther?”
“Yes, sir. I'll stand for it,” In muf
P1 ~ ,1 tnnaa
The telephone bell tinkled once more.
Eric waited until his uncle motioned
for him to take the message.
His aunt was on the wire, asking
what kept them at the bank. He in
formed her they were starting for
home at once. Then she said some
thing that brought a bitter, scornful
smile to his lips. He waited until she
was through, and then said:
"No, it isn't that. Don't be worried,
Aunt Rena."
"Will you get my hat and stick, now?
We will be late for dinner. Punctual
ity is a virtue, Eric, that is only sur
passed by unselfishness. Ah, thank
you.”
He accepted his hat and cane from
the hands of his nephew, carefully
placing the one on his grey head and
grasping the other firmly.
“Smith will straighten up the room.
He must be wondering what keeps me
here so late. It is quite dark. Dear
me. Smith must be puzzled. By the
by, Eric, I may go to Boston this week.
It has occurred to me that I can, after
all, arrange to take the room you want
—I might say covet—in Cambridge for
next fall. You remember I told you a
few weeks ago it wouldn't be possible
on account of the expense. Well, I
think it can be arranged.”
“Thank you, uncle,” said Eric, rather
lifelessly.
They passed out of the building and
descended the broad stone stepB lead
ing to the sidewalk. Street lamps were
being lighted by men who made a
pretense of hurrying up and down the
quiet thoroughfare. Corinth was still
using the primitive gas lamp on Its
Btreets, although the world at large
had been illuminated by electricity for
years. It seems tha{ Blagden, et at,
owned the lighting franchise for the
town, and they believed in letting well
enough alone. At least, until they
could get their price from the outside
capitalists wrho were ready to put in
a big electric plant. The Corinth
Electric Light company supplied the
homes and the business houses with
light, but the municipality was con
tent, perforce, to cling to its ancient
friend, the lamp post—staid and trust
ed teetotaler that never went out
nights.
Uncle and nephew walked side by
aide up the narrow sidewalk, homeward
bent. They were silent after that last
magnanimous effort on the part of
Horace, each wrapped in his own
thoughts, not any of which possibly
could have been pleasant. Eric found
Borne satisfaction in the discovery of a
weak spot in his uncle's virtue, al
thought the consolation afforded by
Lhls knowledge was not likely to pro
vide a lasting sense of victory. His
uncle contaminated! An hour befoij
he would not have believed It possible
But now! Where would It end? How
far would an ill-wind carry that hith
to unswerving craft out of Its estab
lished course? What was Horace Blag
den’s estimate of himself to he as time
gave It a chance to develop?
As for the tall, gaunt man who strode
beside him, what were his thoughts?
What must they have been, to drag
down his shoulders In this way and to
lower a chin that never had drooped
before?
They entered the gate In the stone
wall guarding the sanctity of the grey
ltouse on the hill. Not until then did
Horace Blagden give sign of the
thoughts that were burning in ills
brain. He stopped, checking Eric with
a word.
"It did seem to ine, Eric, on seeing
the two drawings, that the one hear
ing your name was crudely done. I
could not understand it. I was
amazed, and I must say 1 was grati
fied. Now I understand. You could
not possibly have made the design at
tributed to you. But the thing that
puzzles me most, is how Chetwynd,
with his truing and his extra prepar
ation for the contest, could have pro
duced such a miserable botch. He lias
had the best of instruction in New
York. I—I can't see why he did not
do better.”
Eric had his own private opinion,
but he could not bring himself to the
point of advancing it at this time. Mr.
Blagden would find out soon enough,
without his help. Still, the boy could
not Quell the secret joy that filled his
soul as he contemplated the harsh
times ahead of Chetwynd, and the hit
ter things that his uncle and aunt
would have to swallow. The thought
of this actually revived his fallen spir
its. The future would pay handsome
ly for the present; he could afford the
gloom of today in view of tomorrow’s
glory.
“Perhaps he didn’t consider it worth
while,” he explained.
Horace eyed him sharply. "If he did
not consider it worth while, why should
he have gone to the trouble to— But
there, we were to say no more about
it. He shall explain for himself. We
can't judge him unheard."
They went forward. As they came
into the shaft of light thrown out by
the open hall door, the older mun again
siuppeu. ring lime lie giuspeu r,i n: a
arm in a grip of iron.
"Eric,” he began in a low. tense
voice, "you heard me say back there
in the office that I could have killed
you. Will you be able to appreciate
my state of mind when I tell you now
that it was in my heart to kill you if
you refused to accede to my demands
in this matter? There is a revolver in
my desk drawer. You were not to have
gone out with that awful story on your
lips. But that is not all. It would
have died there in that room, for no
one would be alive to repeat It."
"What do you mean, sir?” asked Eric,
a strange chill running through him.
He looked into the haggard face of his
uncle as it stood out clearly in the light
from the doorway. It seemed to him
that Mr. Blagden suddenly had grown
very old.
"I should have killed myself as well,"
said Horace Blagden quietly.
The boy stared at him in utter
amazement. Suddenly it was revealed
to him what all this really meant to the
head of the Blagden family. He was
conscious of a choking sensation in his
throat; there was a rush of moisture
to his eyes. A great, perhaps unwel
come wave of pity for the man swept
over him.
“It’s all right now, Uncle,” he mur
mured brokenly."
As they entered the hall, Mrs. Blag
den emerged from the library. She
sent a swift, searching glance into
Eric's eyes, a glance expressing doubt,
anxiety and no little antipathy.
Eric smiled, a bitter, scornful little
smile, the real Inwardness of which che
was never to grasp.
He could account for her uneasiness.
He had but to go back for a few min
utes to that second call on fhe tele
phone. She had said to him then, in
accents of real despair and dread:
“You are not telling him of Chet
wynd and Mary, are you? Y'ou can't
be such a beast, such a dog as to for
get your promise to me. If I thought
you were telling him, I'd turn Mary
out into the street this very minute, be
cause I know your uncle would insist
on it himself when he got home. Hava
you breathed it to him? Speak! Why
do you hesitate?”
"No, it isn't that. Don’t be worried
Aunt Rena,” he had said.
CHAPTER VIII.
WHEN FRIENDSHIP CEASES.
Chetwynd returned from New York
two days later. He was closeted with
his father for more than two hours,
emerging with the air of a whipped
dog, thoroughly cowed, but filled with
rage against Eric Midthorne and his
own father. A hang-dog look of de
fiance crept into his sullen face as th«
hours went by, hours that were bring
ing him up to the minute when ha
would have to face Eric in the library.
Just before the dinner hour, in accord
ance with the edict pronounced by his
father.
(Continued next week.)
Friendship In Politics.
From the Dayton News.
John H. Myers, who recently made the
race for mayor of Oklahoma City, Is eith
er a humorist of Is extremely wise In the
ways of the world—and politics. Certain
ly he Is philosophical, for ho says that
since the primary, 650 people have told him
that they voted for him, whereas ho re
ceived less than 100 votes, and odds: "Still
I do not question the results,"
In filing his statement of expense, after
the election, he puts down an Item of $5,
which he says he gave to "moochers,”
meaning thereby the fellows who "work"
candidates for whatever sum of money
they can obtain. “This was to get rid
of them and not with the idea of getting
their support," ho says.
There Is wisdom—"to get rid of them.”
Every man who runs for office finds It
cheaper to give the "moochers” a little
something than to allow them to take up
his time. He doesn't count In getting
their support. He knows that support
doesn't come from those who are most un
der obligations. If there Is a tragedy In
In American politics, It Is that the people
who are under obligations to a man do
not vote for him. Somebody went to
James O. Blaine once and told hint & cerj
tain man was ngalnst him. "J, dfi liei*
Kdow why he should, te." »’.alne said, “I
nevef did anything for him In tny life."
There was as fine a bit of Irony as wus
ever expressed, but It had experience back
Of It. Blaine had known many men for
whom he had done something, to oppose
him, but ho didn’t know why a man for
whom he had never done anything, should
be against hltn.
If You Could Have a Perfect Day.
If you could have a perfect day
To dream of when your life were done.
Would you choose one all clear, all gay—
If you could have a perfect day—
The airs above the wide greenway
Sheer virgin blue with crystal sunl
it you could have a perfect day
To dream of when your Ufe were done.
Or would you have It April's way,
Haphazard rain, haphazard sun,
Divine and sordid, clear and gray,
Dyed like these hours’ own work and
play;
All shot with stains of tears and clay,
Haphazard pain, haphazard fun—
If you could have a perfect day
To dream of when your l:fe were done?
—Edith Wyatt, in Poetry.
LIFE WAS A TRAGEDY,
SAID IOWA WOMAN
Mrs. William TJtzenberg of Monte
zuma, Iowa, suffered from stomach
troubles for a long period. She grew
weak as a result of the failure of her
digestive processes. She was always
tired.
Then came Mayr’s Wonderful Rem
edy and showed her the way back to
health again.
The first bottle, the very first dose,
put Mrs. Litzenberg on her feet. She
wrote:
"I have taken four bottles of your
Wonderful Remedy. I can't be thank
ful enough for it. I must say that it
is the best medicine that I ever tried.
“I was so weak that I did not think
life was worth living—had no appetite
—everything I ate worked against me,
but now I can eat anything at all that
looks good. I feel so strong—have
been able to do a good day’s work
ever since I took the first bottle.”
Mayr’s Wonderful Remedy gtves per
manent results for stomach, liver and
intestinal ailments. Eat as much and
whatever you like. No more distress
after eating, pressure of gas in the
stomach and around the heart. Qetone
bottle of your druggist now and try it
on an absolute guarantee—if not satis
factory money will be returned.—Adv.
HI* Bid.
Between the blonde young woman
on the other side of the car and her
stout neighbor next to the left there
interposed a space of perhaps four
Inches in width. Clinging to the
strap just in front of the blonde young
woman was a cheerful individual
whose uncertain footing was, it
seemed, not wholly due to the jolt
ing and jerking of the common carrier.
Presently he fastened an Ingratiating
smile upon the young woman.
“Madam,” he murmured, “if you'd
lemme sit down in that plache there
by you I’d—I’d vote for woman shuf
frage.”
BABY LOVES HIS BATH
With Cutlcura Soap Because So Sooth
ing When His Skin Is Hot.
These fragrant supercreamy emol
lients are a comfort to children. The
Soap to cleanse and purify, the Oint
ment to soothe and heal rashes, itch
ings, chaflngs, etc. Nothing more ef
fective. May be used from the hour
of birth, with absolute confidence.
Sample each free by nail with Book.
Address postcard, Cutlcura, Dept. XY,
Boston. Sold everywhere.—Adv.
Just That
"That fellow certainly can make a
great speech.”
“That so? Then why doesn’t he?”
ALLEY'S FOOT-EASE for tha TKOOP8
Over 100,000 packages of Allen’s Foot-Ease, the
antiseptic powder to shake into your shoes, are
being used by the German and Allied troops at
the Front because it rests the feet, gives in
stant relief to Corns and Bunions, hot, swollen
aching, tender feet, and makes walking easy.
Sold every where, 25c. Try It TODAY. Don't
accept any substitute. Adv.
Allas Jim the Penman.
“Is Blinks making any progress?”
“Yes, he forged ahead until the
handwriting experts proved it on him.”
YOUR OWN DRUGGIST WILL TELL YOU
Try Murine Kye Remedy for Red, Weak, Watery
Byes and Granulated Hyelids; No Smarting—
iust Kye comfort. Write for Book of the Bye
y mall Free. Murine Bye Remedy Co., Chicago.
Pretty Blue.
Saplee—What la this Blue Bird
we hear so much about?
Snaplelgh—The Dove of Peace.—
Judge.
Drink Denison’s Coffee,
Always pare and delicious.
Theory and practice are somewhat
different—as young lawyers or physi
cians can tell you.
GASTORIA
For Infanta and Children,
Mothers Know That
Genuine Castoria
Always
Bears the
m Promotes Digestion,Cheerful- SiffD.3itlir0
pj nessandRest Contains neither 0
lj> Opium .Morphine nor Mineral /yf
S) Mot Narcotic
'n finpt »/■ ou DrSAMyurrram
l| Pumpkin Sood k *
f! Ah S.xxm . *
I i ffothdU So/b «
B-* 3 da/uSotd- .
g 'ffiZZtuSAU. ’ -
It* hirm Sood - -
iff . ztoodiodSufoo
jjC AfSokrfntn fMvcf J VI _
14*0 Aperfecl Remedy forConsllpa- USB
jii) lion. Sour Stomach,Diarrhoea,
i!c Worms .Convulsions .Feverish- a
»J5 ness and LOSS OF SLEEP | QT 0 V 8 f
Ql facsimile Signature of
I! JiSL.. Thirty Years
iMBtusrp
THE CENTAUR COMPANY. NEW YORK CITY.
A Tale Often Told.
"Society is just now afflicted with
a new species of bore.”
"Still another?"
"It's the young woman who telle
everybody she meets how the war In
Europe prevented her from finishing
her musical education.”
It Is easy to size up egotism that la
not causing our own skulls to bulge.
AFTER SUFFERING
TWO WEARS
Mrs. Aselin Was Restored to
Health by Lydia E. Pink
ham’s Vegetable
Compound.
Minneapolis, Minn.—“After my little
one was born I was sick with pains la
my sides which the
doctors said were
caused by Inflamma
tion. I suffered s
great deal every
month and grew very
thin. I waa under the
doctor’s care for twe
long years without
any benefit Finally
after repeated sug
gestions to try it we
got Lydia E. Pink
ham’s Vegetable Compound. After tak
ing the third bottle of the Compound 1
was able to do my housework and today
I am strong and healthy again. I will
answer letters if anyone wishes to know
about my case. ’’—Mrs. Joseph Aselin,
606 Fourth Avenue, Minneapolis, Minn.
Lydia E. Pinkham’a Vegetable Com>
pound, made from native roots and
herbs, contains no narcotics or harmful
drugs, and today bolds the record of
being the most successful remedy we
know for woman’s ills. If you need such
a medicine why don’t you try it ?
If you have the slightest doubt
that Lydia E. Pinkham’s Vegeta
ble Compound will help you,write
to Lydia E.Pinkham MedicineCo.
(confidential) Lynn,Mass., for ad
vice. Tour letter will be opened,
read and answered by a woman,
and held In strict confidence.
Your Liver
Is Clogged Up
That’s Why You’re Tired—Out of Sorts.
—Have No Appetite.
CARTER’S LITTLE/
LIVER PILLS
will put you right _
in a few days.^
They do^
their duty./
CureCon-i
stipation, I
Biliousness, Indigestion and Sick Headache
SMALL PILL, SMALL DOSE, SMALL PRICE.
Genuine must bear Signature
DAISY FLY KILLER » ST5S& *>
lies. Neat, clean, er
namenfhl, convenient,
cheap. Lasts all
ssason. Madeol
metal, can’tipill or tip
over; will not toll ot
1njure anythin*
Guaranteed effective.
Alt dsalsrs orfeen*
express paid for fl.ft
■▲BOLD 10MEB1, lot De Kalb Ave., Broeklya, N T
CIGAR DE ALE RS
Hare a rest business booster that It a ante winner.
One dolly brings It. Boa 4S8, Bod Oak, Okla.
SIOUX CITY PTG. CO., NO. 20-1915