Nebraska Newspapers

    1
mi mi mi£~V
f MARY MIDTHORNE 1
BY
GEORGE BARR McCUTCHEON.
Author of “Graust&rk," “Truxton King.” etc.
Copyright, 1911. By Dodd. Mead A Co. Jjj
O llll III! IUI
CHAPTER X
"But God isn’t going to Judge you for
a while, understand that. You’ll be
judged by men, before God gets a
chance to forgive you. God isn't going
to hold this against you, so why should
you give your fellow man a chance to
do you harm? You're not guilty of mur
der, but—well, I guess you’re beginning
to understand. I’m thinking for you
and for Mary, my boy, and I’m think
ing hard. You can trust me. I will do
what is right and Just, for I know what
these damned brutes of men do when
they get on a Jury, or when they set
out to hound a fellow creature to his
grave. I am your judge, Eric. You are
the only witness I shall examine, and
I win acquit you of all blame on your
own word. You may not sleep well to
night, but tomorrow you will realize
that you did what could not be helped
and that the God you speak of took
away Chetwynd’s life—God and a com
munity that does not keep its bridges
in repair. Now, tell me slowly, care
fully, just what brought on the fight.”
Eric told the story from beginning
to end, from the instant he saw Chet
wynd on the bridge to his disappear
ance over the edge.
”1 couldn’t stand it any longer when
he said that about my sister. I Just
had to fight. It was a fair fight, too—
as fair as I know how. I—I watched
for my chance to get in that blow you
taught me. I—well, that’s all.”
"He deserved the licking,'’ said Ad
am, a grim smile on his lips. "And I
won't say he didn’t deserve the pun
ishment God gave him, too. He was
a rascal, Eric—a nasty rascal. I can
tell you who that letter was from. It
was from a woman in New Y’ork, a
woman on whom he was spending thou
sands of dollars that didn’t belong to
him.”
“Didn’t belong to him?”
“Yes. I suppose you believed all that
private instruction rot, too, the same
as his father and mother did. Well, I’ve
got a few rare facts to lay before the
Blagdens.”
There was such utter vindictiveness
In his manner of speech that Eric
looked at him In wonder.
“Oh, I don’t profess love for your
fine Blagdens,” said Adam gruffly.
“Horace and I used to play together
when we were little chaps. Oswald
Bright was another of my playmates.
I was a poor sailorman’s son; they
were of the elect. I knew your mother,
Eric, when she was a tiny little girl.
But our family left Corinth long before
she was in shoe top frocks, and I never
saw her afterwards. That's neither here
nor there. I’ve never forgotten the
scurvy trick Horace played on me in
school. Somebody in our room was
stealing things from the desks of the
other scholars. Horace openly accused
me of it. I was driven out in disgrace.
Not one of my old playmates would
look at me, except Oswald Bright. By
George, he was a great judge, even in
those days. He defended me on all oc
casions, and he—he pulled me out of
the water once when I actually tried
to drown myself because I was so un
happy. He put new courage into me.
“My father moved to Gloucester a
few months afterward, but one day Os
wald wrote me a letter saying they had
caught the real thief in the act of pil
fering, and he confessed to the whole
range of thefts. He was sent to the
nouse or correction ana provea a oaa 101
all the rest of his life. But I never for
got Horace Blagden’s charge against
me. Years passed before he grudgingly
apologized to me at Bright's suggestion.
I don’t mind saying I’ve never liked
your Uncle Horace, and that's putting
It gently. Now my turn has come.
He'll squirm when I tell him the name
of the man who got away with the
bank's money a few months ago. It
will turn his hair greyer than it is
when he finds out for a certainty that
It wasn’t John Payson who took it.”
“Payson? The teller who used to
be —”
“In Chetwynd's place.” completed
Adam grimly. "A lot of money was
taken out about the time Payson left
the bank. Your uncle sent for me. He
was determined Jack was the thief. I
went to work. For weeks and weeks
I watched every move that fellow
made, not so much for the purpose of
finding him guilty to please Horace
Blagden, but to establish his innocence
to please myself. Payson was no more
guilty of robbing that bank than you
are, and I was sure of it from the be
ginning. Horace wouldn’t have It so.
He Insisted that I keep after him. He
said he’d ‘get him’ if it took years.
Well, I told him I’d find the thief, I
didn't care how long it took. So I
stuck to the case, chiefly to clear Jack
Payson. His dad was my best friend
when we were boys, and his mother is
one of the finest women in the world.
She's a widow now and Jack supports
her. Tomorrow I’m going up to Hor
ace Blagden’s house to make a charge
against the real thief."
Eric was leaning forward, staring at
the hard set face of the speaker, his
eyes wide with understanding.
“You don't mean—Chetwynd?” he
cried.
l do mean tjnetwyna. He was tne
thief. I have positive proof. He took
$7,000 out of sealed packages in the
vault the second day after he went into
the bank to be instructed by Payson.
They kept these packages there for
emergency cases, being a safe old New
England bank, you know.” His grin
was the quintessence of Irony. "The
money was not missed for weeks, but
as some smaller bills had disappeared
from the cage just before Payson left,
it was recalled, and suspicion fell on
him.”
"Ohetwynd stole all that money?”
"He needed it,” chuckled Adam re
flectively. "It’s an expensive luxury,
keeping a girl in fine clothes, carriages
and champagne, let me tell you that.
He met her when he was in college,
and she knew he was too good to let
slip. So she hung on. She got most
of the $7,000 down there in little old
New York, and she laughed at him
behind his back. I've had more than
one friendly chat with her, and I've
drunk some of his champagne, al
though he didn’t know of it. 1 may
add that she looked on me as a rich
ranch owner from the far west. She
didn’t know me for the original Adam.
I got a good deal out of Miss Bunnie
De Vine. Yes, my boy, I ran your
cousin right down to the ground. A
day or two ago I laid it all before
Judge Bright. He begged me to let
the matter drop. But I refused. I
had told Horace I’d find the thief, and
that it wouldn’t be poor Jack Payson.
So there you are! Tomorrow I’m go
ing to make public my discovery and
ask for the arrest of Chetwynd Blag
den for embezzlement.”
He leaned back against the rock and
watched tjie varying expressions In
Eric’s face- amazement and perplex
ity being paramount.
“His arrest7” cried he. with a swift,,
17
Involuntary glance toward the ravine.
"Why—why, how can you arrest him
now ? He's—he's—”
"That’s Just the point,” said Adam
composedly. "But I can bring charges
against him, can’t I?”
”1 don’t understand you, Mr. Carr.”
"Of course, I can’t arrest him for the
very good reason that he got wind of
my intention and skipped out—we’ll
say today.”
Eric looked his perplexity.
“Don’t you catch my meaning?”
asked Adam, with his first sign of en
thusiasm. "Chetwynd isn't dead. Not
at all. He skipped out to avoid arrest."
"I—1 see,” murmured the other, light
breaking in on him.
"I went through his pockets down
there in the cut,” went on Adam. "He
had $500 in bills. He was certain that
I knew everything. Judge Bright told
him enough last night to open his eyes
pretty thoroughly. He brought that
money out here to buy me off. He was
desperate, and he was willing to risk
discovery at the bank in order to get
me off his back, so to Bpcak. So, you
see, all this makes it very simple for
us. When 1 go in tomorrow to accuse
him of the crime, he won't be there.
His father will say that he hasn’t been
at home since noon today. Then, I’ll
tell him why. He has vamosed, that’s
all there Is to It.”
He leaned back and studied his
young friend's face once more, this
time being relieved to see signs of
hope and credulity there.
“Oh. if T rnn nnlv Ifppn them frnm
finding out,” said Eric, in agitated,
eager tones. “I—I don’t want to go to
prison, Mr. Carr. I wonder—I wonder
if we can do it. You can do your part,
I know, but can I face them? I—I
never told a lie in my life.”
"You won’t have to tell one now.
You keep your lips closed. Don’t
breathe a word to a soul—never, so
long as you live, my boy.”
"But 1 will have to sit by and Join
in the talk about him at home.”
“There won’t be much said about
him at home, I’ll promise you that. His
name won’t be mentioned there.”
“But how will Uncle Horace explain
his disappearance? You forget that.”
“I intend to explain it,” said Adam
grimly. ”1 have all my proof in hand.
The story goes to the newspapers to
morrow—all of it."
“Oh, you can’t do that! It would
kill Uncle Horace.” Eric was gen
uinely grieved.
"Horace Blagden hasn’t enough
money, all told, to buy my silence. I’ve
waited years for the chance to strike
back at him. Nothing on earth can
stay the blow—nothing!"
Eric watched his convulsed face in
a sort of stupefaction for a few mo
ments. Then his mind abruptly re
turned to his own affairs.
"They will find the body,” he half
whispered.
“I will attend to that. No one will
ever see that body after 12 o'clock to
night, unless the sea dries up and
leaves its bottom bare. No, my boy,
Chetwynd’s name will never be men
tioned by his father after tomorrow. As
for you, you won’t have any choice in
the matter. Your uncle will give you
your orders. No one will be allowed
to mention his name in his home, or in
his presence if he can prevent it. That’s
how he will take it. I’m sorry for one
thing, Eric, but I won’t hold it as a
grudge against you. You deprived me
of the Joy of putting that young
scoundrel where he belongs—be
hind the bars. I have said to
myself I’d bury him in a prison cell. I
can't do that now, but I will bury him
somewhere else.”
"You—you are a hard man, Mr. Carr.
I didn’t believe any man could be so
bitter, so hard.”
“We won’t talk about that, if you
please,” said the other coldly. “You
can thank your lucky stars that I am
a hard man, and that I am your friend.
You’d be in a devil of a mess, if I were
not Just what I am. Now, here are your
books and papers. I picked ’em up for
you. Take them and go as if nothing
had happened.”
“I can’t do it! I’ll dream of him all
the rest of-”
“Rubbish! You’re young and you’ll
sleep a long sight better than you
would if you were in a cell, waiting
for the hangman’s noose. You have not
committed murder. Bear that in mind,
always. It was an accident. Can’t you
say that to yourself, over and over
again? You know it is true. Time will
do the rest for you. Now, get along
home." The man arose and imperious
ly motioned for his companion to be off
down the slope.
Eric hesitated. “What—what are you
going to do9”
“I am going to walk part way with
you.”
'And leave—leave it there alone?”
“Oh, it won’t run away,” said Adam.
"Besides, you forget it isn’t there. It’s
on the way to New York to meet Bun
nie De Vinne.”
It was grim humor. The speaker
himself chuckled over it, and Eric, in
a sort of hysterical terror, Joined in
with a harsh, staccato laugh that was
cut short by the sharp command of his
conscience.
As they came out upon the bridge,
Adam Carr grasped his companion by
the arm and hurried him across, as if
there were devils and witches behind
them.
“I did that to keep you from looking
dow’n into the ravine,” he announced,
in response to the look of amazement
in Eric’s eyes.
They walked rapidly down the nar
row, fast darkening road, between som
ber rocks and shaggy brushwood, with
out so much as a single look backward.
Neither spoke for a long time. At
last Adam Carr broke the silence by
remarking, in the most casual way:
“I left the 500 in his pocket.”
Eric looked up from the road, which
he had been covering with long, rigid
strides. "I’m glad of that, Mr. Carr.”
"He stole it, but that’s no reason why
I should steal it from him. I guess the
bank won’t go to the wall if it never
gets back."
rxu, i guess uui, sauu r,nc uiecuuu
kally.
The sky grew darker. Ix>ng, thin
shadows from the slope above advanced
to meet them as they strode Into the
falling dusk, shadows that seemed to
point eternally backward over the
shoulder of the wretched boy, as If tell
ing him of the long, black road that
Chetwynd’s ghost was traversing in
the painful effort to catch up to him,
ciushed and mangled, but still revenge
ful.
Again Adam spoke. They were near
the upper gate to the Seaman’s home,
and his father would be waiting for
him there.
"Judge Bright had him up there last
night to see if he couldn’t get him to
give up this girl in New York. He
didn’t mention the embezzlement, but
he sort of opened Chetwynd’s eye* to,
a good many things. The Judge made
me promise to give him the chance to
wring an honest confession out of him.
But Chetwynd wasn’t the kind to con
fess a wrong. He couldn’t. He was a
Blagden. So he told the Judge to go to
the devil and left the house."
"See here, Mr. Carr, you’ve got to
tell me just what you’re going to do
with—with Chetwynd's body. I-■"
“Sh! Not so loud, my boy. Well, if
you must know. I’ll tell you. There’s
no moon tonight. If you should hap
pen to be strolling along Stone Wall at
11 or 12 tonight, and if you possess the
eyes of a cat, you will see a small boat
put out to set from a point near the
mouth of the ravine. There will be two
men in that boat, one dead, one alive.
The living-’’
Eric grasped his arm in an ecstasy of
horror.
"You’re not going to row out to sea
alone with—with it in the boat with
you?”
“Of course. I’m not afraid of ghosts.
If I was, I’d be haunted all the time.
You see, Eric, in my time I’ve killed a
man or two. I’ve had to do it or be
killed myself, just as you might have
been. Yes, I’m going to take him five
or six miles out, and leave him there.
He will go down in an old iron chest of
mine, and the whole Atlantic ocean will
not be strong enough to budge that
chest, once it touches bottom.”
"God in heaven!” groaned the boy.
all a-tremble with the horror of this
grewsome declaration.
"You’ve heard father sing that song
about 'dead men’s chests,’ haven’t
you?” went on Adam calmly. "Well,—”
"For heaven’s sake, don’t!” cried the
boy.
"I’m sorry, Eric,” said the other, lay
ing his hand on the boy’s arm. "I
guess I’m a rather cold blooded chap.
I didn’t mean to upset you so.”
"Mr. Carr, I w-ant you to take me
along with you tonight,” said Eric, ab
ruptly halting in the middle of the road,
a strong note of resoluteness in his
voice.
"What ?’•
"Yes, I mean it. If you are going to
do it in that way, I want to be with
you. It’s this way, Mr. Carr: if I’ve
got to keep quiet all my life about
what I’ve done, I must be sure in my
own mind that the—that he is really
out there at the bottom of the sea. I’ve
got to know it for myself.”
"Don’t you trust me?” asked Adam
*ith a queer little smile.
‘T’ve got to know it for myself,” re
peated Eric resolutely.
Adam resumed his rapid pace with
out replying. His head was bent and
his hands were pushed deep into his
coat pockets. Erick kept close to his
side. After 20 rods or more had been
covered in silence, Bave for the hard
breathing of the two pedestrians, the
detective turned to his companion.
“I guess you’re right. You will want
to be sure, won’t you? Come to Fish
er’s Landing at 10 o’clock. I’ll be there
with a boat.”
Eric shuddered. "It’s—it’s going to
be horrible,” he said, striving to set his
chattering teeth.
They could see old Jabez at the gate,
100 yards ahead. He was smoking and
at peace with the world.
Eric wondered if he would ever be at
peace with the world again.
"Uncle Horace and Aunt Rena will
expect Chetwynd to come back some
day,” he mused aloud. "They’ll never
get over expecting him. It will always
be that way with them. I don't believe
I can stand It Mr. Carr. They’ll won
der where he is, whether he’s well or ill,
trouble or out of it, well cared for or
starving. It’s—it’s terrible to think of.”
"My boy,” said Adam quietly,
“you’ve saved them from a great deal
worse trouble than all that. Some men
ought to die young."
CHAPTER XI.
THE SHADOWS FALL.
It was long after 2 o’clock in the
morning when Eric, drenched by the
sea mists, stole across the lawn and let
himself Into the darkened house on the
hill, through a window he had left un
fastened at the time of his stealthy de
parture several hours before. He was
faint from the horrors of that mid
night excursion. His legs trembled be
neath him as he crept up the stair
case and down the long hall to his
room. An Impulse, grewsome enough,
caused him to pause for an Instant be
fore the closed door of Chetwynd’s
room. He listened there for a moment
and then hurried on as If afraid that
the door would open In his face to re
veal the figure of—Chetwynd himself.
The house was as still as death it
self. He knew that his uncle and aunt
were sleeping soundly In the big blue
room overlooking the street, In serene
ignorance of what the morning was to
bring to them. Somehow, he had the
uncanny feeling that this was the last
night on which they would sleep
soundly and in peace.
In his own room at last, he softly
opened the door leading to the smaller
one occupied by Mary. He could not
see her for the darkness, but in time
his heart beats subsided so that his
ears could detect the soft, regular
breathing of the girl In the white bed
across the room.
(Continued next week.)
"Bob” Burdett’s Resolutions.
From National Magazine.
Because I am born into a world of
many imperfections and daily tempta
tions; because I have many faults al
ready and am liable to acquire others, I
resolve that I will make my faults my
virtues.
I will be proud—too proud—to think
a foul thought; too proud to do a vile
deed.
I will hate a lie; I will despise a
deception; 1 will scorn a mean action.
I will fear temptations, and avoid them
if I can, but I will fight them if I must,
and will fight them to the death, show
ing no quarter.
I will slay my enemies by making
them my friends, which is far better
than making them my brothers. For
brothers are not always friends, but true
friends are always better than brothers.
I will be cruel to my faults, no mat
ter how pleasant they may seem to be
to me. I will “pluck out my right eye,"
if it sees falsely and crookedly for me;
I will “cut off my right hand” should
it deal treacherously with me. Com
fanlonshlps that lead me into evil ways
will renounce if I cannot transform
them into righteousness.
I will fear to do wrong because of the
misery I might cause myself and bring
upon others; I will fear to go wrong,
ever so little a way, lest I might lose
myself and those who trust me as a
guide.
So I will make my pride, my hates,
my fears, my cruelties, my temptations
—all my faults and evil propensities—
“captives of my bow and spear,” cap
tured in fair, honorable, openly declared
war and straightforward battle. And I
will compel them to bow down to me
and to serve me, even as conquerors in
all ages have made life slaves of tlieir
captives. Thus will I strive to make it
come true in my life that “best men
are molded out of faults.”
Robert J. Burdette,
Dated. Sunnycrest, Pasadena, February
18, 1914.
The best paid servant among the
female staff In the employ of the Eng
lish royal family Is the chief house
keeper, who receives a salary of $1,750
a year. She occupies a most respon
sible position, as the whole organiza
tion and management of all the maid
servants is under her control.
Ntneteen-year-old Catherine Stin
son has announced her intention of
undertaking an aeroplane flight from
New York to San Francisco and will
start about June 1 in a 00-horse power
machine.
PETE’S GOLD MINE.
/Copyright. 1915, by the McClure News
paper Syndicate.)
Shaggy Pete was only a dusty, gray
burro, but then Pete had sense. Now,
a burro is a small, tough donkey used
in the west for climbing mountains and
hauling things to mining camps, and
is not generally supposed to have much
brains. But Pete was different. He
took as good care of little Ada as if he
were a nurse with cap and apron, and
would even pretend to go to sleep while
she pulled herself up on his back by
his tall.
Pete belonged to Ada's father. Mr.
Bedford, who had come out to Colo
rado in the spring to get strong in the
crisp mountain air. But the father soon
found his small fund of money getting
low and wondered what he could do to
support his family until he got entirely
well.
Knowing that the mountains were
full of mining camps, and wishing to
3nd a gold mine for himself, he began
to spend days climbing among the huge
rocks, looking for the peculiar stone
V* ,i
vtUjrr." i
mmm n /-/
' called quartz, through which run veins
of gold like tiny, silken threads. But
every evening he would return tired
out and empty handed. Even Ada no
ticed th.e worried look on his face and
her mother’s tears, though she could
not understand the trouble. But at last
one evening a terrible thing happened.
For when the father came ho said
sadly that he would have to sell dear
old Fete because his money had all
been spent. And they would have to
go down to some town and the father
find work, though If he could stay a
few months longer on the mountain he
would be a well man.
Ada knew that her father was to take
Pete away to sell at noon the next
day, so directly after breakfast she put
on his bridle and climbed on his back.
Then with her chubby legs bumping
against hts sides she set out, following
a path across the mountain, winding
through the pines until they stood at
the top of a high rock. Just below was
a grassy bit of level ground hidden by
towering trees. She meant to hide her
p.et so her father could not find him.
So she climbed down from Pete’s
back and began to pull on the bridle
as she slid down the rock. But the
tiny feet slipped and the child fell,
rolling over and over down the slanting
face of the cliff, till she landed, bruised,
but not hurt, on the grass at the bot
tom. In falling she had Jerked Pete,
too, and he fell, but not In exactly the
same direction as Ada. Kicking and
knocking rocks about, he came bounc
ing down to the bottom, then scrambled
to his feet and began to nibble the
fine grass.
But little Ada commenced to cry.
Then at the top of her voice she
screamed for her father, but no sound
came In answer from the big, silent
mountains. The sun rose higher and
higher and she knew it must be dinner
tlpie, for she was so hungry. Then it
began to sink toward the west and the
shadows creep out. Just where Pete
had kicked out a big chunk of rock
when falling, she noticed a bright re
flection from the cliff, and as the sink
ing sun shone on the face of the rock
she saw long veins of yellow that
glinted and winked at the shining rays.
Then with her little hands she has
tily fathered up the bits of rock that
had fallen on the grass. They, too,
were full of tiny threads of gleaming
metal. And the child knew that at last
she had found that for which her fath
er had so long looked In vain—gold.
Just then she heard a voice calling
and some one running up the path.
With a glad cry she answered back,
and In a moment her father stood at
the top of the rock, full In the light of
the setting sun.
’’Oh, father, father!" she cried, so
delighted with her find that she for
got her bruls.es, "look what I have
found. It's gold—and Pete did it.”
It took the father but a few seconds
to scramble down and clasp his little
daughter In his arms. And when she
showed him the shining yellow In the
rocks Peter had broken off and the
big place on the cliff where It glistened
in large veins, the father shouted with
Joy.
A very happv man and child they
were as they climbed home and man
aged to drag Pete along, and, of course,
Pete was not sold. And when Mr. Bed
ford built a beautiful home on the
mountain near the gold mine, Pete had
a fine, warm stable, and everybody
called the place Pete’s Mine.
Miss Country Store Forum.
From the Toledo Blade.
Something was lost, and It was no little
thing, when the debaters around the stove
In the country grocery store ceased to set
.tle the affairs of the nation.
It was a custom that greatly tickled the
professional humorists. The stage bur
lesqued It. The song writers made sport
of it. Fiction writers dressed It In dia
lect and presented It to readers as the
absurdest practice of which Americans
were guilty. It has been laughed wellnlgh
out of existence.
There came to the evening debate the
farmer who all day at the plow had been
thinking. The village carpenter brought
the thoughts that had been maturing
while he wielded saw and hammer. The
postmaster spoke from an official stand
point, the school teacher from the schol
astic. The local minister cited the scrip
tures and often there was some law stu
dent ready to recite the statutes glibly If
not particularly to the point
The results of discussion may have been
ridiculous more often than not. But al
ways they represented the crystallized
public opinion of the section. We have
nothing now that quite takes Its place.
Editors speak for themselves. Politicians
have their own Interests at heart. The
flood of telegrams which poured In on the
president In the last few days was the
opinions of the Individuals who wrote the
messages. But In Lincoln’s day, such tele
grams would have been the mobilized
opinions of the countryside and the com
munities whence they came.
Laughter has destroyed an Institution
which, at such a time as this, would be
beyond price.
One on Billy Sunday.
From the Boston Transcript.
Billy Sunday stopped a petvsboy In
Philadelphia the other day and In
quired the way to the postoffice.
"Up one block and turn to the right,”
said the boy.
“You seem a bright little fellow,”
said Sunday. "Do you know who I
am ?'•
“Nope!"
"I’m Billy Sunday, and If you’ll come
to my meeting tonight I’ll show you the
way to heaven.”
"Aw, go on!” answered the young
ster; “you didn’t even know the way
to the postoffice.’’
ummmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmtmmmmrnmmii ■■■ ■■ i ■ " m u —iWWiWWB——w—WMiMa—
Children Cry for Fletcher’s
The Kind You Have Always Bought, and which has been
la use lor over 30 years, has borne the signature of
>5^ — and has been made under his per
/V. . Bonal supervision since its infancy.
» #t<r/V/T Allow no one to deceive you in this.
All Counterfeits, Imitations and ** Just-as-good” are but
Experiments that trifle with and endanger the health of
Infants and Children—Experience against Experiment
What is CASTORIA
Castoria is a harmless substitute for Castor Oil, Pare*
goric, Drops and Soothing Syrups. It Is pleasant. I®
contains neither Opium, Morphine nor other Narco tio
substance. Its age Is its guarantee. It destroys Worms
and allays Feverishness. For more than thirty years itr
has been in constant use for the relief of Constipation.
Flatulency, Wind Colic, all Teething Troubles and
Diarrhoea. It regulates the Stomach and Bowels,
assimilates the Food, giving healthy and natural sleep.
The Children’s Panacea—The Mother’s Friend.
GENUINE CASTORIA ALWAYS
iBcars the Signature of _
»
ti
In Use For Over 30 Years
The Kind You Have Always Bought
MANY MEN ACT LIKE THIS
Old Bill Shiftless Has His Counter
part In Many Localities Through
out the Country.
“Old Bill Shiftless dropped into
town last Saturday," the Osborne
Farmer reports. “Bill went Into one
of the stores and asked for some crepe
tissue paper. His wife had asked him
to get some so Bhe could make a few
little ornaments to improve the looks
of the front room. She wanted two
colors and Bill found that he would
have to take two rolls, as the mer
chant would not cut it. They cost 10
cents a roll. Bill refused to take it.
saying it was too darn much money
to pay for such useless stuff. He then
bought a dollar's worth of chewing to
bacco and a half-dollar’s worth of ci
gars and went out to see what the
chances were for ’chipping in’ on a
consignment of Kansas City jug house
booze. Bill wants to go to the San
Francisco exposition. His trip to St.
Louis did him so much good that he
thinks he owes it to his health to take
this trip. Mrs. Shiftless would like to
go, but Bill says he can’t see how she
can get away, as there would be no
one at home to look after the stock.”—
Kansas City Star.
Long on That.
“It says here that the longest sen
tence in the Lnglish language sontalns
140 words,” observed the old fogy.
“That’s wrong,” replied the grouch.
“The longest sentence contains only
one word.”
“What is that?” asked the old fogy.
“Life,” replied the grouch.—An
swers.
SHE QUIT
But It Was a Hard Pull.
It is hard to believe that coffee will
put a person in such a condition as it
did an Ohio woman. She tells her
own story:
“I did not believe coffee caused my
trouble, and frequently said I liked it
so well I would not, and could not,
quit drinking it, but I was a miserable
sufferer from heart trouble and nerv
ous prostration for four years.
“I was scarcely able to be around,
had no energy and did not care for
anything. Was emaciated and had a
constant pain around my heart until I
thought I could not endure it.
"Frequently I had nervous chills
and the least excitement would drive
sleep away, and any little noise would
upset me terribly. I was gradually
getting worse until finally I asked my
self what’s the use of being sick all
the time and buying medicine so that
I could indulge myself in coffee?
“So I got some Postum to help me
quit. I made it strictly according to
directions and I want to tell you that
change was the greatest step in my
life. It was easy to quit coffee be
cause I now like Postum better than
the coffee.
“One by one the old troubles left
until now I am in splendid health,
nerves steady, heart all right and the
pain all gone. Never have any more
nervous chills, don’t take any medi
cine, can do all my house work and
have done a great deal besides.”
Name given by Postum Co., Battle
Creek, Mich. Read "The Road to
Wellvllle,” in pkgs.
Postum comes in two forms:
Postum Cereal—the original form—
must be well boiled. 15c and 25c pack
ages.
Instant Postum—a soluble powder
dissolves quickly in a cup of hot wa
ter and, with cream and sugar, makes
a delicious beverage instantly. 30c
and 50c tins.
Both kinds are equally delicious and
tost about the same per cup.
‘‘There’s a Reason" for Postum.
—sold by Grocers.
j
The Difference.
"Times have changed. People used
to go to Europe because they wanted
to be In the swim.”
"Well?”
"Now they stay home because they i
don’t want to be." ’
ECZEMAS AND RASHES
Itching and Burning 8oothed by Cutt>
cure. Trial Free.
The Soap to cleanse and purify, the
Ointment to soothe and heal. Relief
rest and sleep follow the use of these
supercreamy emollients and Indicate
speedy and complete healment in most
cases of young and old, even when the
usual remedies have utterly failed.
Sample each free by mall with Rook.
Address postcard, Cutlcura, Dept. XT*
Boston. Sold everywhere.—Adv.
Much More Important.
"I understand you are the press
agent for the college girls’ play?”
“Yes, I'm getting out some of the
stuff.”
“What are you working on, the cast
of characters?”
"Cast of characters? No, no! N©4
body cares for that. This is the list!
of patronesses.” '
5SS5!!S"!5"S"5!"S5!555!S!!5!!!"5!!!!!5S!"H“H55!5!55SS|
Constipation
Vanishes Forever
Prompt Relief—Permanent Cure
improve the complexion, brighten the eyeat
SMALL PILL, SMALL DOSE, SMALL PRICE.
Genuine must bear Signature
Asthma Sufferer
Those who have suffered for years and gives
up hope of being cured, write one who knows,
I will send you Free Information bow to get
rid of that terrible asthma forever, how never
to suffer again from tbose distressing attacks,
by a simple, inexpensive home treatment which
never falls Address t. B. B. Boi 5SS, Bet Moists, Is
Your Opportunity May Be in Nevada
In planning your trip to the Pacific Coast be sura
and visit Reno and Nevada, both of which are of
the eve of great development. An inviting field
for the capitalist, miner, homeseeker, farmer, dairyt
man, stock raiser and market gardener.
A state of Industry and culture, university. goo«l
public schools, good homes, good people.
The Journal has just published a souvenir contain*
ing detailed Information, which will be sent to yon
absolutely FREE. Write for it today. Addreaa
NEVADA STATE JOURNAL. Reno. Nevada
Wanted Quick
Name and address of capable and reliable single man
who understands farming and ranching. Splendrt
opportunity for right party. (Strictly confidential.)
Address Mr$. WeUon. (B-316) Valley, Nebmfc*
DAISY FLY KILLER ftS? gp® £
flies. Neat, clean, **«
na mental, con venteariL
cheap. Lasts all
ssason. Medeet
metal, oan’tepillorttp
over; will not sal) mm
injur* anythin*.
Guaranteed effectives
Alldaalar* orteeart
express paid for ItA
HAROLD SOUEEB, ISO Ds Kalb A vs.. Brooklyn. U. K.
El7 LOSSES SURELV MKVENTEb
H ter Blatklef Nila Lew*
11 Prtoed. rneh, reliable: preferred Ip
Weelem etockmeia because tk,y
* %-U w-ta jvvtwrt wkire etker VMOieee teU.
I M ^ Write for booklet end teAlmartaSe
1 - r' ,1 m 10-aoee ekte. Bleekleg Pliia tl.OS
Mrnd JLeBXJS SO-doge (kae. Blackleg Nine 4.SB
_. . y*e eny Injector, but CuUcVs ML
The gupertoelty of Cutter product, ia due to mrr B
»eare of .pcrtaUrtn* In eaeeln.e uf eerereg only.
Inglgt en Cettee'e. If unubtainable. order dir, ,r.
The Cutter Uheratery, Berkeley, Cel., er Ckltaee. ML
SIOUX CITY PTG. CO., NO. 25-1915.