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About The frontier. (O'Neill City, Holt County, Neb.) 1880-1965 | View Entire Issue (Jan. 18, 1917)
When Work Is Hard That kidney troubles are so common Is duo to tire strain put upon the kid neys In sd many occupations, such as: •Tarring and jolting on railroads, etc. Tramp and strain as In barberlng, moulding, heavy lifting, etc. Exposure tti changes of temperature In Iron furnaces, refrigerator*, etc. Dampness na In tanneries, quarries, mlne.'bJte. Inhanng poisonous fumes In paint ing, printing and chemical shops Down'd Kidney Fills are fins for strengtifWimg weak kidneys. An Iowa Case O. W Emery, re tired farmer. West PecoMth, Towa, sn ys: “My hack. got so bad I couldn’t get much rest and often had to he propp'd up with pillows. The pain was terrible and It seemed ns It my kidneys were being topi loose. The kidney secretions were pnltiful In passage and I lost weight until I was hut a shadow of my former self. Doan’s Kidney Fills restored we to good - health and I haven’t had any kidney trouble since." Get Doan's st Any Store, SOc a Bos DOAN'S VZ1Y FOSTER-MILBURN CO.. BUFFALO. N. Y. Mr. WiK—"Do you know what’j gooj lor rats?" Miss Slosve— ‘'Why. poison, ol course." Mr. Wire—"No. that would kill them—cheese." Do you know what's good for a cough, throat and lung troubles, that will allay Inflammation and insure n good nlght'sslccp with free and easy expec toration In tlie morning? The answer always the same year after year. Is Boschee’s German Syrup Soothing and healing to bronchial and throat Irritation. 25c. and 75c. sizes all Druggists and Dealers every where. Your grandfather used it 5! years ago. Try it yourself and see how It stops a hacking cough like magic. -ff—aw 1,11 ■■■'"■ 1 ■MMBJLJkJI and Tumors successfully treated (removed) without knife or pain. All work guaranteed. Come, or write for free Sanatorium book Dr. WILLIAMS SANATORIUM 3#23JJnivfriityAvjjMiaBMp«ll«^1mo. “ROUGHon RATS,,5^uI^M1M^ LANDS INDIAN IN BROADWAY Half Starved Tramp Shod In Mocca.. sins Ts Elevated to tho “Movies." A man was strolling, or rather cringing up Broadway tho other after noon, writes a New York correspond out of the Pittsburgh Dispatch. He had high cheek bones, black hair and wore moccftsins. He had no overcoal and the cdllnr of his thin sack coal was turned up about his neck and held w ith a hand blue with cold. Three men standing at the curb saw the man and noted his moccnslned feet. "Bj George,” said one, “there’s a bit ol luck. Go after him, Tony, and tell him to come over to the studio. He’* down on Ids luck and we need an In dian." Tony pursued the shlverln* figure and told him about the chnnet at the studio. "Sure, I'll come," said I he alleged redskin. "I look line one but my name Is Schwartz. A fellow gave me these moccasins, and I’d Ik willing to wear a chief's bat and a red blanket If It would keep me warm.' And So another Indian went straight to the “movies." Consequences. “1 notice that young man Is settlint down." “Exactly, and the old man is set »hng up.” The Concho, Shlppo, Cocoamo am Yuhun tribes of Amazon Indians art still wearing clothes of grass. Before Drinking Coffee, You Should Consider Whether Or Not It Is Harmful “There's a Reason” fo POSTUM I ._ THE BEST MAN By Grace Livingston Hill Lntz Author of "Marcia Schuyler,” "Dawn of the Mornlnc." "Lo, Michael!” etc. 1 Philadelphia A London. J. B. Lippincott Company. 1,11 CHAPTER XVII.—(Continued.) "Why, I don’t know. Couldn’t we get ' along without announcements? You ! can explain to your intimate friends, and the others won't ever remember ! the namo after a few months—we’ll not ' be likely to meet many of them right ' away. I’ll write to my chief and tell : him Informally leaving out the date en ! tirely. He won't miss It. If we have i announcements at all we needn’t send j him one. He wouldn't be likely ever to see one any other way, or to notice the date. 1 think we can manage that matter. We'll talk it oven with your—” . he hesitated and then smiling tenderly added, "we'll talk it over with mother. How good It sounds to say that. I never knew my mother you know." Celle nestled her hands In his and murmured, “Oh, T am so happy—so happy! But I don't understand how you got a wedding trip without telling your chief about our marriage.” Easy as anything. He asked me if 1 I would mind running across the water to attend to a matter for the .service and tend to a matter for the service and said I might have extra time while there for n vacation. He never suspects that vacation is to be used as a wedding trli). I’ll write him, or ’phone him the j night we leave Mow York. I may have to stay in tile city two or three days to get this Holman matter settled, and then we can be off. In tiro meantime you can spend the time reconciling your mother to her now son. Do you think we'll have a very hard time explaining matters to her?" “Not a tilt,” said Celia, gaily. "She never dtd like George. It was the only thing we ever disagreed about, my mar rying 1dm. She suspected all the time I wasn’t happy and couldn't understand why I insisted on marrying him when 1 hadn’t seen him for 10 years. She begged me to wait until he had been hack in the country for a year or two, hut he would not tiear to such a thing and threatened to carry out his worst at once." Gordon’s heart suddenly contracted with righteous xvrath over the coward liness of the man who sought to gain ills own ends by intimidating a woman, —and this woman, so dear, so beautiful, so lovely In her nature. It seemed the man’s heart must indeed he black to have done what he did. He menially re solved to search him out and bring him to Justice as soon as he reached New York. It puzzled him to under stand how easily he seemed to have abandoned his purpose. Perhaps after all he was more of a coward than they thought, und had not dared to remain In the country when ho found that Celia had braved his wrath and mar ried another man. He would find out nbout him and set the girl's heart at rest Just as soon as possible, that any embarrassment at some future time might be avoided. Gordon stooped and kissed his wife again, a caress that seemed to promise all reparation for the past. But it suddenly occurred to the two that trains did not wait for lovers’ long loitering, and with one accord they went to work. Celia of course had very little preparation to make. Her trunk was probably Is Chicago and would need to be wired for. Gordon attended to that the first thing, looking up the number of the check and ordering it back to New York by telegraph. Turn ing from the telephone he rang for the man and asked Celia to give the order for lunch while he got together some things that he must take with him. A stay of several weeks would necessi tate a little more baggage than he had taken to New York. He went Into the bedroom and began pulling out things to pack, hut when Celia turned from giving her directions she found him standing in the bedroom doorway with an old fashioned velvet Jewel case in his hand which he had Just taken from the little safe in his room. His face wore a wonderful tender light as If he had Just discovered some thing precious. "Dear,” he said, “I wonder if you will care for these. They were mother’s. Perhaps this ring will do until I can buy you a new one. See if it will fit you. It was my mother's." He held out a ring containing a dia mond of singular purity and brilliance In quaint old fashioned setting. Celia put out her hand with its wed ding ring, the ring that he had put upon her finger at the altar, and he slipped the other Jeweled one ubove it. I fitted perfectly. ii is u. ueauiy. Dreamed vena, Hold ing out her hand to admire it, "and 1 would far rather have It than a new one. Your dear little mother!” "There's not much else here but a little string of pearls and a pin or two. I have always kept them near ine. Somehow they seemed like a link be tween mo and mother. 1 was keeping them for—" he hesitated and then giv ing her a rare smile ho finished: "I was keeping them for you." Her answering look was eloquent, and needed no words which was well, for Henry appeared at that moment to serve luncheon and remind his master that his train left In a little over two hours. There was no further time for sentiment. And yet, these two, it seemed, could not be practical that day. They idled over their luncheon and dawdled over their packing, stopping to look at this and that picture or bit of bric-a-brac that Gordon had picked up in somo ot his travels; and Henry finally hud to take turnings in his own hands, pack them off and send their baggage after them. Henry was a capable man and rejoiced to see the devotion of his muster and his new mistress, but be had a practical head and knew where Ills part came In. CHAPTER XVIII. The journey back to New York seemed all too brief for the two whose lives had just been blended so unox peitedly, and every mile was filled will: a new and sweet discovery of delight In one another; and then, when they reached the city they rushed in on Mrs Hathaway and the eager young Jell like two children who had so much tc tell they dll not know where to begin Mrs. Hathaway settled the matter by insisting on their going to dinner Im mediately and leaving all explanation; , until afterward; and, with the servant; 1 present, cf course there was little tha could b* raid about the matter tha each one had most at heart. Rut there was a spirit of deep happiness In th< atmosphere and one couldn't possibl; entertain any fears under (he influenc ef the rs>d!a«- imtl« that passed be 15 tween mother and daughter, husband and wife, brother and sister. As soon as the meal was concluded the mother led them to her private sit ting room; and, dosing the door, she stood facing them all ns half breath less with the excitement of the moment they stood in a row before her. “My three dear children!" she mur mured, Gordon's eyes lit with Joy and his heart thrilled with the wonder of It all. Then the mother stepped up to him and, placing her hand on his arm, led him over to the couch and made him sit beside her, while the brother and sister sat down together close by. “Now, Cyril, my new son," said she, deliberately, her eyes resting approv ingly upon his face, "you may tell your story. I sec my girl has lost botli head and heart to you and I doubt if she could tell it connectedly." And while Celia and Jeff were laugh ing at this, Gordon set about his task of winning a mother, and incidentally an eager eyed young brother who was more than half committed to his cause already. Celia watched proudly ns her hand some husband took out hts credentials and began his explanation. "First, I must tell you who I am, and these papers will do it better than 1 could. Will you look at them, please?" He handed her a few letters and papers. "These papers on the top show the rank and position that my father and grandfather held with the government and in the army. This is a letter from the president to my father congratu lating him on ids approaching mar riage with my mother. That paper con tains my mother's family tree, and the letters with it will give yoq au Idea of the honor in which my mother's family was held In Washington and in Vir ginia, heroic home. I know these mat ters are not of much moment, and say nothing whatever about what I am myself, but they are things you would have been likely to know about my family if you had known me all my life; and at least they will tell you that my family was respectable.” Mrs. Hathaway was examining the papers, and suddenly looked up, ex claiming; “My dear! My father knew your grandfather. I think I saw him once when he came to our home in New York. It was years ago and I was a young girl, but I remember he was a fine looking man with keen, dark .eyes, and a heavy head of iron gray hair." She looked at Gordon keenly. "I wonder if your eyes are not like his. It was long ago, of course.” “They used to say I looked like him I do not remember him. He died when I whs very young." The mother looked up with a pleas ant smile. “Now tell me about yourself," she said and laid a gentle hand on his. Gordon looked down, an embarrassed flush spreading over his face. "There's nothing great to tell,” he said. “I’ve always tried to live a straight, true life, and I’ve never been In love with any girl before—” he flashed a wonderful, blinding smile up on Celia. "1 was left alone In the world when quite young and have lived around in boarding schools and college. I'm a graduate of Harvard and I've traveled a little. There was some money left from my father's estate, nut much. I’m not rich. I'm a secret service man, and I love my work. I get a good salary and was this morning promoted to the position next in rank to my chief, so that now I shall have still more money. I shall be able to make your daugh ter comfortable and give her some of the luxuries, if not all, to which she has been accustomed." “My dear boy, that part is not what I am anxious about—" interrupted the mother. "I know," said Gordon, "but It is a detail you have a right to be told. I understand that you care far more what I am than how much money I can make, and I promise you I am going to try to be alt that you would want your daughter's husband to be. Perhaps the best thing I can say for myself is that 1 love her better than my life, and I mean to make her happiness the dear est thing in life to me.” The mother's look of deep under standing answered him more eloquently than words could have done, and after n moment she spoke again. “But I do not understand how you could have known one another and I never have heard of you. Celia is not good at keeping things from her moth er, though the last three months she has had a sadness that I could not fathom, and was forced to lny to her natural dread of leaving home. She seemed so insistent upon having this marriage Just as George planned it— and I was so afraid she would regret not wailing. How could you have known one another all this time and she never talked to me about it, and why did George Hayne have any part whatever in It if you two loved one another? Just how long have you known each other, anyway? Did it be gin when you visited in Washington last spring, Celia?” With dancing eyes Celia shook her head. "No, mamma. If I had mot him then I'm sure George Hayne would never have had anything to do with the mat ter, for Cyril would have known how to help me out of my difficulty.” “I shall have to tell you the whole story from my standpoint, and from the beginning,” said Gordon, dreading now that the crisis was upon him. what the outcome would be. "I have wanted you to know who and what 1 was be fore you knew the story, that you ! might judge me as kindly ns possible, I and know that however I may have | been to blame in the matter it was 1 through no intention of mine. My story ] may sound rather impossible. I know it will seem improbable, but it is nev ertheless true, everything that I have ! to tell. May I hope to be believed?” "I think you may,” answered the I mother searching his face anxiously. | “Those eyes of yours are not lying eyes.” : “Thank you," he said simply, and : then gathering all his courage he | plunged Into his story, i Mrs. Hathaway was watching him with searching interest. Jeff had ! drawn his chair up close and could i scarcely restrain his excitement, and j when Gordon told of his commission : he burst forth explosively: "Gee! But that was a great stunt! ■ Td have liked to have been along with i you! You must be simply great to be trusted with g i.hfn= like that!” Mm Rut his mother gently reproved him i "llush, my son, let us hear the story.” j Celia sat quietly, watching her hus . hand with pride, two bright spots o ! color on her cheeks, and her hand I clasping each other tightly. She wa , hearing many details now that wer. new to her. Once more, when Gordoi ■ mentioned the dinner at Holman's Jef , interrupted witli: “Holman! Holman! Not J. P.? Whj j of course—we know him! Celia wa. one of his daughter's bridesmaids las spring! The old lynx! I alwayt thought he was crooked! People hin a lot of things about him— “Jeff, dear, let us hear the story,' again insisted Ills mother, and the storj continued. Gordon had been looking down as hi talked. He dreaded to see their facet as the truth should dawn upon them but when he had told all he lifted hon est eyes to the white faced mother anc pleaded with her: "Indeed, indeed, I hope you will be lieve me, that r.ot until they laid youi daughter's hand in mine did I know that I was supposed to be the bride groom. I thought all the time het brother was the bridegroom. If I had not been so distraught, and trying s< hard to think how to escape, I suppose I would have noticed that I was stand ing next to her, and that everythin} was peculiar about the whole matter but I didn't. And then when I sud denly knew that she and I were being married, what should I have done? Do you think I ought to have stopped the ceremony then and there and made a scene before all those people? What ■was the right thing to do? Suppose my commission had been entirely out of the question, and I had had no duty toward the government to keep en tirely quiet about myself, do you think I ought to have made a scene? Would you have wanted me to for your daugh ter's sake? Tell me, please," he in sisted, gently. And while she hesitated he added: "I did some pretty hard thinking during that first quarter of a second that I realized what was happening, and I tell you honestly I didn’t know what was the right thing to do. It seemed awful for her sake to make a scene, and, to tell you the truth, I worshiped her from the moment my eyes rested upon her. There was some thing gad and appealing as she looked at me that seemed to pledge my very life to save her from trouble. Tell me, do you think I ought to have stopped the ceremony then at the first moment of my realization that I was being married?” The mother's face had softened as she watched him and listened to his tender words about Celia, and now she answered gently: "1 am not sure—perhaps not! It was a very grave question to face. 1 don’t know that I can blame you for doing nothing. It would have been ter rible for her and us and everybody and have made it ail so public. Oh, I think you did right not to do anything pub licly—perhaps—and yet—it is terrible to me to think you have been forced to marry my daughter in that way." “Please don’t say forced, mother,” said Gordon laying both hands earnestly upon hers and looking into her eyes, "I tell you one thing that held me back from doing anything was that I so earnestly desired that what I was pass ing through might be real and lasting. 1 have never seen one like her before, i know that if the mistake had been righted and she had passed out of my life I should never have felt the same again. I am glad, glad with all my heart that she is mine, and—mother! — I think she is glad, too!” The mother turned toward het daughter, and Celia with starry eyes came and knelt before them, and laid her hands in the hands of her husband, saying with ringing voice: "Yes, dear little mother, I am glad der than I ever was before in my life.” And kneeling thus, with her hus band's arm about her, her face against his shoulder, and both her hands clasped in his, she told her mother about the tortures that George Hayne had put her through, until the mother turned white with horror at what her beloved and cherished child had been enduring, and the brother got up and stormed across the floor, vowing ven geance on the luckless head of poor George Hayne. Then after the mother had given her blessing to the two, and Jeff had added an original one of his own, there was the whole story of the eventful wed ding trip to tell, which they told by solos and choruses until the hour grew alarmingly late and the mother sud denly sent them all off to bed. The next few days were both busy and happy ones for the two. They went to tlie hospital and gladdened the life of the little newsboy with fruit and toys and many promises: and they brought home a happy white dog from his boarding place, whom Jeff adopted as his own. Gordon had a trying hour or two at court with his one time host, the scoundrel who had stolen the cipher message; and the thick set man glared at him from a cell window as he passed along the corridor of the prison whith er he had gone in search of George Hayne. Gordon in his search for the lost bridegroom, whom for many reasons he desired to find as soon as possible, had asked the help of one of the men at work on the Holman case, in search ing for a certain George Hayne who needed very much to be brought to jus tice. “Oh. vnn wnn't hnvA to spnrph for him.” declared the man with a smile. “He's safely landed in prison three days ago. He was caught as neatly as roll ing off a log by the son of the man whose name he forged several years ago. It was trust money of a big cor poration and the man died in his place In a prison cell, but the son means to see the real culprit punished." And so Gordon, in the capacity of Celia’s lawyer, went to the prison to talk with George Hayne, and that mis erable man found no excuse for his sins when the searching talk was over. Gordon did not let the man know who he was, and merely made it understood that Celia was married, and that If he attempted to make her any further trouble the whole thing would be ex posed and he would have to answer to a grave charge of blackmail. The days passed rapidly, and at last the New York matter for which Gor don's presence was needed was fin ished, and he was free to 6ail away with his bride. On the morning of their departure Gordon's voice rang out o\ er the miles of telephone wires to his old chief in Washington: "I am mar ried and am just starling on my wed ding trip. Don’t you want to congrat ulate me?" And the old chief’s gruff voice sounded back: “Good work, old man! Congratula tions for you both. She may or may not be the best girl in all the world; I haven't had a chance to see yet;’ but she’s a lucky girl, for she's got the best man I know. Tell her that for me! | Bless you both! I'm glad she’s going with you. It won't be so lonesome.” Gordon gave her the message that afternoon as they sailed straight into the sunshine of a new and beautiful life together. “Dear," he said, as he arranged her steamer rug more comfortably about her, “has It occurred to you that you are probably the only bride who ever married the best man at her wedding?" Celia smiled appreciatively, and after a minute replied mischievously: ‘1 suppose every bride thinks her husband 1* the beet man." (THIS END.) AMERICAN CIRL MAKES HER BOW IN FRENCH DRAMA Miss Katherine Rush. Miss Katherine Rush, the daugh ter of Captain Rush, U. S. N„ has invaded the difficult field of thu French drama by becoming a mem ber of the Theater Francaise com pany, at_ the Garnck theater, New York. Miss Rush has already created several' small parts and she is now appearing in support of Miss Yvonns Garrick in “Petachon." She was educated in France, Italy and Ger many and speaks all three languages fluently. She spent five yearB in Paris, part of which time she devoted to the study of dramatic art. City Wealth a Menace. From the Chicago TriDune. Ten families own a very large part of Chicago real estate. Five families con trol—and are supported by enormou^ land holdings. One estate owns 4 per pent of all Chicago land. Each year sees additions to the hold ings of those estates. During 1916 more than $1,000,000 worth of land, the best land for commercial purposes, was add ed to them. Between these 10 families piost loop property is monopolized. . The 10 families themselves are scat tered all over the world. Few members of them personally count for anything In Chicago. They are able, because Chi cago is a profitable and prosperous en terprise, to build palaces abroad. They can buy peerages if they like. They can live in California or Florida, or England or Italy. They can forget all about Chi cago. Barge fortunes in the hands nf men who live In Chicago and work in Chi cago are not especially dangerous. The Interests of such men run parallel with the interests of the city. Their personal happiness depends somewhat on their relations with less pecunious Chicago ans. But the beneficiaries of "estates’’ fiu not have to come into contact with Chi cago opinion at all. They are out i f reach. So long as the checks tontines to arrive and the coupons are pah! at the banks, they are not aware of Chi cago one way or another. Their es tates are enormous impersonal tilings. They are operated in the interests of Chicago only as the Interests of Chica go are profitable to them. And Chicago Is in their hands. Every other city In the United Slates Is faced with the same problem. New York tenements build palaces for cows on the English Astor estate, contribuia to English war funds, buy peerages. New York society supports a pillar c.f (inglish society and gets snubbed in re urn. There is a way out for Chicago rod for New York. We must impose an nherttance tax so graduated that no family or group of families can ever accumulate so much property as to deJ ptroy the fact of our republic. Some Hints About the Fashions. Grace Margaret Gould, the fashion editor of the Woman’s Home Com panion, says in the January issue: “Afternoon tea veils are the loveliest (ver! They are black mesh, some em iroidered In gold threads and others n gray worste 1. The embroidered portion Is draped over the hat, really forming a fascinating hat trimming "In the latest gaiters the buckle Is po longer at the side. The strap fast ens under the shoe. Box cloth is the material; preferable colors gray and light tan. The gaiters are leather bound and have what is known as the waving top—higher in the back than In the front. "Many skirt hems are edged with an Inch wide fringe. On street dresses, gray, black and brown fringes are most used; on evening dresses, gold pr silver. "Not a ribbon trims the latest to ar rive French underwear. Nightgowns and envelope chemises of the sheerest handkerchief linen are trimmed with scallops or squares of colored linen in pink, yellow and French blue. Nar row strips ef tills colored linen take the place of lingerie ribbons. “The Paisley shawl has come to life again, but not In its old demure form. Though you can fairly smell the cam phor. yet the new Paisley dress ac cessories are the latest things out. They come In sets. They are com bined with fur—sealskin the favorite. There is the close fitting hat which re sembles the stove pipe; the pointed cape with the chin-chin collar, and the quaint hand bag.” TESTS FOR GOOD BREAD. Salt is used for flavor. American! f.emand salt in all starchy foods. Tot Much salt retards the growth of yeast The proportions are as Important in ihe ingredients. Too much flour or too little water gives a coarse, crumbly dark and tasteless bread. Too little flour or too much water gives a soggy dark, flat bread. Too much yeast gives i "yeasty” taste,” while too little yeast wlli not raise the bread sufficiently. Too much fat or sugar have abeu! the same effect as too much flour. Any one In excess gives a dense dough is whtch the yeast finds difficulty is SC*wing- YFe say *the bread dcesm’l Tfie well.'’ OPPORTUNITIES THAT |E MISSED Why Wait? W'ny Not Go to West ern Canada Now? The writer lms frequently heart! the remark that "ufter the war wo^UJt go to Western Canada.” It does hfi’l oc i eur to those making the remark’Chat if they wish to secure lands in Western Canada, whether bj» homestead Of, pur chase, the best time to go ls.1toYV4RA.fter the war the welcome will be ji£>i as hearty ns ever, but the chanC?# are that land values -will increase to diiy homesteads are plentiful and'land is reasonable in price. There-'Is no question about what the laud iicilani toba, Saskatchewan and Alberta will do, what it will give under proper cul tivation. I Farmers iti Western Canada are pay ing for their land holdings wiUi the proceeds of hut year’s crop. Time this is no idle statement may be gTraned from the three following items, 'which are picked out at random; “in the spring of 191(1 a halCscclion of land was offered for sale a'tffel7.011 per acre. There were 105 acres of summer-fallow, which, because the owner could not at the time fliud a buyer, were seeded to wh^at. A yield of 40 bushels per acre. 4,(MK), bushels all told, grading No. X, wasKobtnined. The price the day the grain .was sold (which was very early in trie season, before grain prices advanced" to round about $2.00) was $1.00, which brought the handsome total of $0,720.1)0. Three hundred and twenty acres at $17.00 equals $5,440.00, so that a buyer, by placing less than half of the whole under crop, would have made a profit of $1,280.00.”—Robson MfesWngcr, i Hobson, Sask. . £ I “That the ‘Indiana Boys' farm this year raised suflicient crop to pay for the land, all the machinery and all overhead expenses as well as make a , handsome profit, Is the information ! given by N. B. Davis, the manager. The wheat yield was over 22,(HO bush els. Of twelve cars already suid, nine graded No. 1, and Mr. Bavi3 has sold over 2,0(H) bushels locally for peed at $2.00. Naturally, when he gel* to In diana he will be a big booster for Al berta."—Bassano Mall, Bassatm, Alta. I “Oscar Castalor, who bought !&nd at j Blusson after the crop had been put in last spring, for $3,300.00, has ! threshed 3,900 bushels of hhent, which is worth at. present prices about $7,500.00. He refused an offer of $.5,000.00 for the land after file crop bad been taken off.”— Beth bridge Her ald, Lethbridge, Alta. Reports from the wheat fields are highly encouraging and fjjiovf. that the wheat crop of many fanheiff 1ft West ern Canada was highly ssi^isfudtory. Coblenz, Sask.—W. A. Jto^e has threshed an average of "5 bushels per acre and S3 bushels of oats. Gleiehen, Alberta;—Up to date 237, {■’.12 bushels of grain have been received by local elevators, of which nearly 180.000 bushels were wheat. Seventy one cars of grain have already been shipped. Stoop Creek, Sask,—.Tames McRae has threshed 5,-lOfJ bushels of grain. < 2.000 bushels of which were wheat, J grading No. 1 Northern. One field f averaged 41 bushels per acre,' and a J large field of oats averaged S3 hnshois. f If information as to the best loca tion is required, it will be gladly fur nished by iinv Canadian Government Agent, whose advortfseim nt appears elsewhere.- Advertisement. Unbreakable Windows. Repeated coats of riiw^qr boiled lin ked ril aplled to a ne\vlvr'nieslie<! wire fabric will give a good substitute for window glass. The wife limy be used for many purposes, and is especially good where glass might easily be broken. The fabric may, be dipped in the oil instead of5 applying it with a brush. CUTICURA COMPLEXIONS Are Usually Remarkably Soft and Clear—Trial Free. Make Cuticura Soap your every-day toilet Soap, and assist it now and then ns needed by touc&s.of Cuticura Oint ment to soften, soothe and heal. Noth ing better to make the complexion clear, scalp free from dandruff and Jiands soft and white. Free sample each, by mail with Book. Address postcard,-’ Cuticura, Dept. L, Boston. Sold everywhere.—Adv. Justification. ^ “Jinks drinks like a llsb." “Why. I thought lie was strictly tem perate.” "So he is, but then fishes, you know never drink anything hut water ' Garfield Tea \vas your Grandmother’s ^b Itemedy for every stomrVdi and intes tinal HI. This good old-fashioned herb home remedy fojtLopstiiiation, stomach ills and other derangements of the sys tem so prevalent these days Is In even greater favor as a family medieina Ilian in yourjjjjindrnother’a day.—Ad*. A plank road fh nprinjite parts is be ing laid in the CujTtsWila tLesovts for economy and conVPtirenee. .. ' y*«< Pimples, boils, earbjmcles, dry- and disappear with Dee tor Piereeig . Uokirn Medical Discovery. In tablets or Ibjnwi. —Adv. A jjso a scale has he?* ihventwt hi T7 nan fn Mobil*. At».