Nebraska Newspapers

    No sick headache, sour stomach,
biliousness or constipation
by morning. *
Get a 10-cent box now.
Turn tlie rascals out—the headache,
bIH awness. Indigestion, the sick, sour
sromarti anti foul gases—turn them
on* to-night ami keep them out with
Cnsfiirflts. •
MHHtme of men and women take a
Cnscaret now and then and never
know tlie misery caused by a lazy
liver, clogged bowels or tin upset stom
ach.
Don’t put in another day of distress.
Let Onatnrets cleanse your stomach;
remove the sour fermenting food;
take the excess Idle frfim your liver
end carry out all the constipated
waste matter and poison In the
bowels. Then you will feel great.
A Oasonret to-night straightens you
out by morning. They work while
you sleep. A 10-cent box from
any drug store means a Clear head,
sweet stomach and clean, healthy liver
and bewdi action for months. Chil
dren love Cnscarets because tlnjy
never gripe or sicken. Adv.
He Ran Out of Ink.
V *wp»-;cur-old hoy grew rather
■peeved id his eleven-year-old sister. He
'bolter* fl that diplomacy rests largely
In note writing, so, instead of deliv
ering lilw opinion by word of month,
lie rotht'd in n safe ,hik1 private place,
where he took Ills pen In hand and
jwrote the following: 1
“Hush* Is n holio.
‘■.Strste Is a hone head.
“Husks Is a stennk. j
ts a wart hog.
“Hush; Is a polecat. ■
“ttusle rs a hog.
“1 eotfld say more, but I will not he
too hard <tn her.”
BOSOHEE’S GERMAN SYRUP
■ ^
Why take ordinary cough remedlea
tvhen Boschee'3 German Syrup has
jbecn used for flfty-one years In an
towns tn tlie United States, Canada,
jAnrttrrflla, and other countries, for
roughs, bronchitis, colds settled in the
fchrmrt, especially lung trouble. It
Rives the patient a good night’s rest,
free from coughing, with easy expec
toration in the morning, giving nature
n chanco to soothe the inflamed parts,
throw off the disease, helping the pa
tient to regain his health, assisted by
pure nir and sunshine when possible.
Triifl size 25c, and 75c family size.
Sold It all towns In tlie United States,
'Canada, Australia, and other coun
tries.^—Adv.
Victor Hugo's Grandson.
George Victor Hugo, the grandson of
the great Victor Hugo, Is now show
Jng In Paris about 100 sketches which
nro attracting great attention. At the
t beginning of the war he was a censor,
an occupation In which he appreciated
too keenly the humor of exercising
suck a function by the grandson of
this grandfather. So, in spite of his
while hair, he gave up the censorship
and set out for the army. lie did not
become a general, but lie Is a lieuten
ant. After a year and a half at the
front he has returned from Champagne
with a hundred choice ucqnnrelles,
which all Paris is running to see. He
lias added somewhat to the splendor
of the name of Hugo, as he bus been
.twice in the course of the war cited j
in tlie order* of the day for meritori- j
-ousvonduet.
-A, I
TAKES OFF DANDRUFF
HAIR STOPS FALLING
Girls! Try This! Makes Hair Thick,
Glossy,, Fluffy, Beautiful—No
More Itching Scalp.
Within ten minutes after an appli
cation of Danderine you cannot find n j
single trncy» of dandruff or falling hair i
and your scalp will not itch, but what •
will please yon most will be after a j
few weeks’ use, when you sec new [
hair, fine and downy at first—yes—but j
really new hair—growing nil over the j
•scalp.
A little Danderine immediately don- !
hies the beauty of your hair. No dif- ;
Xerence how dull, faded, brittle and
scraggy, Just moisten a cloth with *
Danderine and carefully draw it i
through your hair, taking one small
strand at a time. The effect is amaz
ing—your hair will be light, fluffy and
wavy, and have an appearance of
abundance; on incomparable luster,
softness and luxuriance.
Get a 26 cent bottle of Knowlton's j
Danderine from any store, and prove |
that your hair Is as pretty and soft
ns any—that it lias been neglected or
Injured by careless treatment—that’s
all—you surely eUn have beautiful hair
and lots of It If you will just try a lit
tle Danderine. Adv.
Fqrce of Habit.
Cop- You’re drunk. I’ll have to loc k
you up.
Auto Fan—No, I'm not, officer. Il's
just my steering gear out of order.
Pure blood is essential to Good Health.
Garfield Tea dispells imparities, cleanses
the system and eradicates disease. Adv.
The sou) wilt not travel the better,
cr straight*!-, for blind bridles.
The Man Who Forgot
A NOVEL
By JAMES HAY, JR.
GARDEN" CITY NEW YORK
DOUBLEDAY, PAGE & COMPANY
1915
t— ■ I "■.. .
CHAPTER FIFTEEN.—(Continued).
“It doesn’t at all.”
“But I hear it everywhere!
Mrs. Grover told inc—and Colonel
Orimshaw—and Mrs.' Ellis—and
that Miss—oh, what’s her name?
She's single, but at the same time
doublcmindcd—Miss Tevers—Car
rie Tovers. And Elizaboth Beaure
mnn—and—and the whole of
Washington!”
This time Edith smiled.
“Really,” she said, “it doesn’t
annoy me in the least.”
“Edith Mallon, do you mean to
tell me you’d think of marrying a
reformer — this agitator?” Mrs.
Kane’s astonishment was stupen
dous.
“He hasn’t asked me, Nellie.”
Edith gave her the information
with a little laugh.
“But if he does ask you?”
“If I tell you, you won't tell?”
“No.” ‘
“If he asked me, I’d marry him
tomorrow this minutte — any
time.”
“But you don't know who he
is!”
i uon i, care.
“iVnd you love him?”
“Don’t you think so?”
Mrs. Kane began to'langh, and
changed her mind. She leaned far
hack in the ridiculously large
chair and looked at Efdith with a
glance that, for onc6, was preter
natorally solemn. Something like
tears—something like the mist
after rain—came like a curtain
over the soft blue of her eyes.
Then, impulsively, she sprang up
and wont over to Edith and kissed
her.
“Anyway,” she said, a little
wildly, “I think you’ve more
sense about it than anybody else
in tho wrorld. My God] I got so
tired of those imitation men with
their money and these other men
with their imitation money that 1
could scream! What I’d like to
have is what I once had—some
man to make mo feel that he was
the whole world, some man with
real thoughts and real arms, some
body to laugh at me when I. tried
to tyrannize over him, somebody
to make me know that I was noth
ing but a woman—for him!”
Edith, looking up at her, was
tremendously surprised.
“Why Nellie,” she said, taking
one of her hands, “I never — I
never dreamed you thought this
way about—things.”
Mrs. Kane laughed, to cover up
the fact that she was ashamed of
having shown so much real feel
ing.
“Oh, you’re like all the rest,”
she jeered lightly. “You think
because a .woman’s a widow she
has solved the problem of how to
turn her heart to stone! But you
take my advice: The man’s the
thing. There isn’t anything else
in the world that matters that
much.” She snapped her fingers
by way of illustration.
Edith patted the hand she held.
“Of course,” she said, “you’re
right. And now you know why
I don’t like to think of his being
annoyed by this crazy talk about
an engagement.”
Mrs. Kane went hack to her
chair and sat down. She wore an
air of contrition, as if she had
, broken her code or infringed on
her rules by exposing her own
’ heart.
“Tell me,” she asked, putting
■ lightness into the query; “you
I think he’s going to ask you to
I marry him?”
Edith laughed whole-heartedly.
“I feel very sure.”
“Well,” Nellie gave it as her
critical judgment, “I don’t know
what the man’s past has been, but
I will say this: he has a glorious
! future ahead of him.”
j Wales lifted the hangings at the
‘ door.
“Miss Downey,” he announced.
Elise made her entrance exactly
as she had built it uf> in her own
mind and rehearsed it before her
own bedroom mirrow. Then* was
in it only one tlaw: something in
her manner indicated vaguely
that she regarded with awe tho
wooden-faced Wales. She was
glad, it appeared, to get past him.
“I wanted to see Miss Mallou,'
she said, her concluding high note
in perfect working order.
Edith weut forward to meet
her
«
“I am Miss Mallon,” she said,
“and this is Mrs. Kane.”
Elisc shook hands with Edith
and, fh the midst of it, gave Nellie
a bow slantwise.
“Glad to meet you I” She made
the statement include both women.
Edith motioned her to a chair,
which she took carelessly, not ex
pecting the resilience of the
springs, which let her down too
far and bounced her hack too
high.
“1 didn’t come to ask for any
help”—she began the conversa
tion us she had intended before
hand—“fact is, .1 came to give
some. ’ ’
She looked at Mrs. Kane and
turned again to Edith.
“Could I have a confidential
talk with you?” she inquired
blandly.
Her skirt was too narrow, and
the unexpected action of the chair
springs had resulted in lifting it
too high. The lack of ease that she
felt on his account hurried her to
the ymiu point.
•KT-.11- ..- i. _.
11VIHV> lUOC Ul/ UI1VV.
“Why, of course,” she said.
“I’m going into the music room.
Shall 1 play, Edith?”
“Yes, please.”
Miss Mallon turned to Miss
Downey with a look of inquiry.
Nellie, in the music room, opened
the piano and began on “Nights
of Gladness.” Elise tucked one of
her blond locks hack up under her
little round hat and passed her
hand over her right cheek. She
was sure the purchased com
plexion was faultless.
“Suppose I make a little ex
planation first?” she suggested.
“Why, certainly,” Edith
agreed, really expecting some pre
liminary to a request for help of
some kind.
“Then, I'll tell you”—Elise
leant forward in her chair and be
came confiding—“I’ve a lot of
heart. You know what I mean,
don’t you? I’m romantic. I mean
I like real romance. It appeals to
me. I suppose it appeals to any
girl who’s got real heart—don’t
you?’ ’
“Of course.” Edith was all en
couragement.
“Well, that’s me. I’m really
romantic. I don’t mean any of
this mush the men try to hand
you, hut great, big heart events—
the real things in life. They in
terest me. You take a girl with
the right sort of feelings, and she
likes love stories and things like
that, don’t she?”
“Naturally.” Miss Mallon was
thinking that Miss Downey was
paraphrasing in her own language
some of the things Mrs. Kane had
said.
Elise’s words flowed more and
more freely. Miss Millon, she de
cided, was like all other girls—
with heart.
“And you can’t fool a girl
who’s like that, can you? I mean
her ideas and her intuitions. I’ve
got heart and I’ve got intuitions.
And I know I’m right. Intuitions
make up some of this story I’ve
got to tell you. You,believe a girl
who has real deep feeling knows
things, don’t you?”
“Yes.”
Elise was ' completely satisfied^
“I knew you would! From all
I’d heard about you, 1 knew you
were all right. That’s why I came
that, and I do love real romance!
My name’s Elise Downey, and I’m
a stenographer in Congressman
Mannersley’s offices when he’s in
town.”
‘ ‘ M r. M annorsley’s ? ’ ’
For some reason which she
j could not explain then or after
! ward, Edith’s attention was
i caught by the girl in a remarkable
j manner. She felt at once*that
j what she was about to hear con
: corned herself nearly.
I “Yes, Mr. Mannersley’s. That’s
why I’m here/ You know, [ know
now, just as soon as I've looked at
• you, there ain’t anything to that
j story about your being in love
'with him. There ain’t—is there?’’
Elise's evident and deep con
j cern took out of her question all
■ its impertinence.
Edith smiled.
“No. nothing,” she answered.
“I’m so glad!" Elise sighed
audibly. “It shows 1 was right.
I fell yo*,’ a girl who has heart is
almost always right. Now, I’ll tell
you — there's somebody in this
I town trying to ruin that Mr.
, Smith—you know the man they
;say you’re in love with.”
"flow do you mean — ruin
him?” Edith asked the question
j very slowly.
“There’s somebody that knows
[something about his past.”
j ."Who knows it?” This time it
I was the older woman who leaned
forward.
"A horrid man—a man named
Simpson.”
^ ‘ What does he know ? Tell me,
child, what does he know?”
El iso gave her opinion.
"It’s something awful,” she
! said, her doll like eyes looking
like moons.
Edith got up and went over and
I sat down beside her.
! “Snmnlbinof awful?” she ones
tinned.
“So awful that it's going to
ruin Mr. Smith.”
Edith unconsciously grasped
her by the arm.
“Tell me! Tell me!” she said, a
little fiercely. “What is it?”
While Edith clung to her arm,
Elise elaborated her story.
“Mr. Simpson was up in the of
fice looking for Mr. Mannersley.
lie said he had something impor
tant to tell Mr. Mannersley. Then
he ran into Mr. Mitchell, the
whisky man, and I heard him tell
Mr. Mitchell lie knew who Mr.
Smith was. I couldn’t hear much
because 1 was over at my desk in
the corner and llioy talked low.
Mr. Mitchell looked around in a
minute and saw I was listening.
So they went into the committee
meeting room and had a talk, and
then Mr. Mitchell left the Simp
son man in there while he went in
to talk to Mr. Mannersley. It was
the day Mr. Smith came up there
—and Mr. Waller was there, and
“You say Mr. Waller was there
—when?” Edith’s brows were
drawn together. She was trying
to visualize everything Elise was
saying.
“Mr. Waller didn’t hear any of
the conversation. He came in a
little ahead of Mr. Smith, but he
saw the funny look Simpson gave
Mr. Smith when he met him on his
way out.”
Edith still had hold of the girl’s
arm.
“Tell me!” she said tensely.
“What is it you think this man
Simpson knows?”
“It’s something about a woman
—something disgraceful.” Elsie
made the statement positively.
“Why do you say that? Tell
me! Why do you say that?”
“I caught the word ‘woman’
and something about ‘left’ before
they went into the next room,”
Elise * explaining how she .had
worked out her theory. “And—
and the rest was intuition t
woman’s intuition, you see.”
For a moment Edith was sus
picious. It flashed into her mind
that, for some reason, the agita
tor’s enemies wanted to discredit
him with her.
“Why have you come to me
with this story?” she demanded,
shaking Elise’s arm.
Elise looked at her in unfeigned
“Why” — she took a great
flight into the high notes—“you
and Mr. Smith love one another,
don’t you?”
Edith still was avid of informa
tion.
“And that’s why you came to
me?”
“Why, of course! Didn’t I tel!
you I liked romance, real ro
mance? Ain’t I got a heart, deep
feelings, and all that? Everybody
knows you’re crazy about him.
And I don’t blame you. His eyes
are just dears! And I said to my
self you ought to hear this story—
and I couldn’t go to him. But
with you, being a woman, it was
different.”
“Yes, of course,” Edith agreed
dully. She was groping for ideas,
some thought pf what to do or
say.
“I know it’s important,” Elise
insisted, “because Mr. ■ Mitchell
came to see me day before yester
day and took me out to dinner last
night. He bought me three cock
tails and wanted to buy me some
more, but I wouldn’t take ’em. I
ain’t been under 'the influence of
: alcohol—that is, strictly speaking
!—in all my life.”
“What did he want?”
j “He wanted to find out what 1
! had heard, how much I had heard,
of that talk in the office that day
between him and Mr. Simpson,
But I was too wise for him. In
deed. I was. You see, as soon as
I ho began talking about it, I knew
i it must lie important. So that
made me shut up. I let on that 1
I hadn't heard a word. I thought.
I as it was important, I ought to tell
it to you because you love the
I man. See?”
“Yes, ob, ves; I see.”
It did not occur even in a re
! mote way to Edith to deny or dis
cuss her love f%r John Smith. All
she sensed was that the girl before
her had told her a story which
might mean his ruin and he^s—
the destruction of their hope of
happiness. And blindly, vaguely,
i the pity of it came home to her.
It was as if she had heard the
I story of a plot to stab a man in
the back, to strike him from the
dark—a great, strong man who,
at that moment, was doing a thing
which commanded the attention
of the whole country, a thing that
must result beneficently *for the
nation.
“You think,” she said, “it is
about a woman?”
“Yes. And I think they’re go
ing to show him up. That’s what
I think.”
“It may he. It may be.”
“I’ll tell you why. When I
wouldn’t tell Mr. Mitchell I had
heard anything, he was awful im
polite about it, real rude. lie said
I thought I was awful slick about
it, not to toll him everything I’d
heard, but there wasn’t any use in
mo thinking I could help anybody
else with it. He said if I tried to
interfere, it wouldn’t matter, be
cause they had the goods on
Smith. That was what he said.”
Edith took her hand from
Elise’s arm.
“I think I know what to do,”
she said, with no great show of
confidence. “I think 1 do. You
won’t—of course you won’t say
anything about this to anybody
else—anybody else at all?”
The insinuation hurt Elise’s
pride.
“Don’t ask me that!” she an
swered indignantly. “Have I
said anything about it? Didn't
I come up here with it because I
knew the man loved you, and you
loved him?”
“Forgive me,” Edith begged
anxiously. “I didn’t mean that—
really.”
Elise was mollified.
“It’s all right,” she smiled.
“I’m glad I could do you the
favor. I thought you’d know
what to do. You know, you can’t
fool a girl that’s got heart—and
intuition. ’ ’
Edith already was making up
her mind as to what she should do.
“You don’t know where I could
—where this Simpson could be
found?” she asked.
“No. I haven’t seen him since.
You might find him in some sa
loon, I reckon. Maybe Mr. Waller
might got hold of him.”
“That,” Edith said, “was what
I was thinking.”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN.
Bishop Rexall, tlie head of the
biggest diocese-of a great church,
had been glad to receive Mr.
John Smith.
“Tell me,” he said, “what is it
you wish?”
His thin, sensitive lips moved
slowly, as if he had learned long
ago the power of all spoken words,
lie drummed lightly on the arm of
his chair with his long, slender
fingers, and his clear, gray eyes,
i as he looked at the .agitator, were
! eloquent of wisdom and under
j standing. In spite of his white
! hair and his great age, he was
strong. His strength was evident
even as he sat far down in his
chair, so that lie seemed to rest on
the small of his back, his legs
crossed, his .right foot moving
slowly up and down with the reg
ularity of a pendulum. His
benevolence was upon him like a
mantle. Any one, upon seeing him,
sensed it and knew it, almost as
j if it had been a tangible, visible
j thing.
! It was within three weeks of the
date set for the “prohibition pa
rade”—this being the name the
public had given the demonstra
tion. Smith, his wonderful viva
city undiminished by the work he
had done and was doing, had
come into the room with his ac
customed flamelike ardor —- and
this had suggested to the bishop
the atmosphere of youth that al
1 ways was about John Smith. The
; older man marvelled that one who
j seemed so young could have ae
! complished so much, or could have
| persuaded others to go with him
! into the undertaking.
“It is very simple, what 1 have
j come to ask,” Smith explained.
| "1 am very anxious t <9 have you
| load the multitude in prayer, up
• there on the east steps of the capi
i tol at noon on December 10.“
| The bishop put the tips of his
j slender fingers together so that,
: with his elbows resting on the
j chair arms, they made a gable
j over which he looked at the agi
l tator. He smiled gently.
“There will be prayer?” he
asked.
j “Why, certainly!”
, The bishop moved his hands
! slowly so that the gable divided
j a'i<l then shut again.
(Continued Next Week.)
[ GREAT DEMAND
l FOR CANADIAN LAND
I
I -
Americans Are Buyers and Be
coming Settlers—Anxious to
Get Cheap and Produc
tive Land. ^
Reports are to hand that there will
be a large influx of settlers from the i
United States into the Canadian West
during the coming Spring. For a time
there has been a falling off, on account
of the fear of conscription, which of
course was not possible, and which the
Canadian Government gave every as
surance would not be put into opera
tion. In any case it would not affect
the American settler, and more than
that the man who was working on the
farm, helping to produce the grain
that goes to feed those who are at war,
would not be affected. •
The excellent yields .of the Western
Canada crops, and the high pricep se
cured is having its influence on thosp
looking for homes. The authenticated
reports that have been sent out from
time to time that this farmer and that
farmer had paid for their entire farm
holdings out of one crop has reached
the ears of the man looking for a farm.
When he hears that G. H. Beatty of
Nanton, Alberta, had 07!) bushels of
wheat from 12 acres or an average of
56% bushels to the acre, he becomes
Interested. When he learns that Sid
ney E. Phillips of Beddeford, Alberta,
threshed ten hundred and fifty-three ,
bushels of wheat, the average being ’
52% bushels per aero, his interest is
further aroused. Thos. Long of Leth
bridge bad 120 bushels of oats to ihe
acre from a field of 25 acres, W.
Quinn of Milk r.iver had 6.094 bushels
of wheat from 100 acres, an average
of 60 bushels per acre, and Robert
Tackaberry of Noblefopd makes affida- Y
vit that he had an average of seventy- ^
six bushels of wheat per acre from a J
field of 10.63 acres. Thos. Bonlton 'of the ’
same place makes affidavit that from ^
fifty acres he had a yield of fifty-three
bushels of wheat per acre. Newdll J.
Noble’s affidavit of getting 54 bushels
per acre from 1,000 acres stands out
most strongly as evidence of wltat the
wheat grower can do. Tills afirtnxyt is
strengthened by a paragraph stating
that he had 122 bushels and 3# lbs. per
acre from 394.69 acres. Mrs. Nancy
Goe makes affidavit that on her farm
at Nobleford she threshed fflx thou
sand one hundred and ten bushels of
wheat from one hundred and fifteen
acres, or fifty-three bushels and eight
lbs. per acre, and from a flsix field
(Stubble field) she got 20 bushels and
36 pounds per acre.
It cannot be said that these \yere
freak yields because so many had such
great success. When these reports are
read, the man looking for a farm be
comes convinced.
i These are only a few of tlie reasons
that will cause a large influx of Amer
ican farmers into the Canadian West
during the coming Spring.
The farmers now resident, in Mani
toba, Saskatchewan and Alberta are
purchasing additional lands. Prices
are low and Free homestead land can
be had in many districts and the horne
i steader is welcome.—Advertisement.
I •_/
The “Grand Passion.”
j Tea definitions of love, culled from
the literature and history of file ages,
are presented in the Pelican, Univer- i
srty of California comic periodical, f
just issued. \
The Pelican says tills \ is what the j
ten chosen each to represent an era, '
thought of the tender passion:
; Shakespeare—Sweet folly,
i De Maupassant—Hunting fleas to
gether.
Milton—Paradise regained,
j Balzac—Passion,
j Harry Thaw—Madness.
Mrs. Grundy—Marriage.
‘ Otiipurnia—1The curse of the gods.
J Dumas—Merely an incident of (he -
eveuiiig.
. Buddha—One of the ten gates which
keep man out of heaven.
; Hrerybody Else—Love.
i
|! YES! MAGICALLY! !
11 CORNS LIFT GUT j
|! WITH FINGERS i
i i
I You day to the drug store man,
■ "Bive mo a small'bottle of freeasone." *
i This wiU cost very little bn! will
positively remove every hard or soft
. °°Pn or callus from one's feet,
j A few drops of this new ether com
| pound applied directly upon a tender,
' aching corn relieves the soreness iu
j stantly, and soon the entire corn or % '
j callus, root and all, d’ie up and can
j he lifted off with the fingers,
j This sew way to rid one’s feet of
[ corns was Introduced by a Cincinnati
j w*an, who says that freestone dries in
; a moment, and simply shrivels up the
1 corn or callus without irritating the J*
' surrounding skin. ”
i If your druggist hasn’t any freestone
| tell him to order a small bottle from
j Ili* wholesale drug house for you—adv.
i --I-•'
rler Experience.
! Temperance Worker—Does Mr. Mil
ligan live here?
i Mrs. Milligan-—Sure. Carry him in
. Barfield Tea, taken regularly, will
correct both liver and kidney disorders.
Adv.
| It doesn’t really matter what we
live done’’—and didn’t.