THE TRIALS OF
A HOUSEWIFE
How They Have Boon Endured and How Overcome by
Lydia L Pinkham's Vegetable Compound
Experience of a Providence Woman
Providence, R. I.—"I took Lydit
E. Pinkham’s Vegetable Compound
for & female trouble and backache.
It began just after my baby was born,
and 1 did the beat I could about get
ting my work done, but I had awful
bearing-down pains bo I could not
stand on my feet. I read in the papers
about Lydia E. Pinkham’s Vegetable
Compound and the good it was doing
other women, and I have got dandy
results from it and will always rec
ommend it You can use these facts
as a testimonial if you wish.’’—Mrs.
Herbert L. Cassen, 18 Meni Court,
Providence, R. I.
Ohio woman for three years
could hardly keep about and
do her housework she was so ill.
Made well by Lydia E. Pink
baui's Vegetable Compound:
Fayettc, 0. — ‘1 For about three years
I wa3 very nervous and had backache,
•iflrnphp f1rno,rnnor.rln»m naina pnnlrt
not sleep at night, and had no appe
tite. At times I eonld hardly do my housework. I got medicine from the
doctor l«t i t did not help me. I saw I.ydia E. Pinkham’s Vegetable Compound
advertised in a newspaper and took it with good results, and am now able to
do my housework. 1 recommend your medicine to my friends and you may
publish my testimonial.”—Mrs. Chester A. Ball, R. 15, Fayette, Ohio.
An Illinois woman relates liar experience:
Bloomington, 111.— “I was never very strong and female trouble kept mo
so weak I nad no interest in my housework. I had such a backache 1 could
not cook a meal or sweep a room without raging with pain. Rubbing my
back with alcohol sometimes eased the pain for a few hours, but did not stop
it I heard of Lydia E. Pinkhr.m’s Vegetable Compound, and six bottles of it
have made me as strong and healthy as any woman ; and I give my thanks to
it for my health.”—Mrs. J.A.MgQujtty, 610 W.Walnut St,Bloomington, 111.
"■ The conditions described by Mrs. Cassen, Mrs. Ball, and Mrs. McQuitty will
appeal to many women who struggle on with their daily tasks in just such con
ditions—in fact, it is said that the tragedy in the livegof some women Is almost
beyond belief. Day iu and day out they slave in their homes for their families
—and beside the daily routine of housework, often make clothes for them
selves and for their children, or work in their gardens, ail the while suffering
from those awful bearing-down pains, backache, headaches, nervousness, the
blues, and troubles which sap the very foundation of life until there comes a
time when nature gives out and an operation seems inevitable. If such
women would only profit by the experience of these three women, and remem
ber that Lydia E. Pinkham’s Vegetable Compound is the natural restorative
for such conditions it may save them years or suffering and unhappiness.
There is hardly a neighborhood in any town or hamlet in the United States
wherein some woman does not reside who ha* been restored to health by this
famous medicine. Therefore ask your neighbor, and you will find in a great
many oases that at some time or otner she, too, has been benefited by taking it,
and will recommend it to you. For more than forty years this old-fashioned root
and herb medicine hasbeen restoring suffering women to health and strength.
Lydia E. Pinkham’s Private Text-Book upon "Ailments Pecu
liar to Women” will be sent to you free upon request. Write
to Tbo Lydia E. Pinkhnm Medicine Co., Lynn, Massachusetts.
This book contains valuable information. ' .
More oil lias run to waste In the
United Siates than ever reached the
refineries.
Try to follow the sacred way to
truth, and you will never deceive your
s f or others.—Goethe.
Few young men ever think that
money will be of much account when
they’re sixty.
The best of life is that It is full
of beginnings, that every today Is a
clean puge.
STRIKE
10 cigarettes for 10 ots
Handy and convenient; try
them. Dealers now carry
both sizes: 10 for 10 cts;
20 for 20 cts.
It's Toasted
■ M *
I THE ENCHANTED BARN I
h.^^saaig^J i
..... * ■ —HTHf..,,!
When she handed her nickel to
the conductor she felt almost
guilty, and it seemed as i! he
could see her intention in her
eyes, but she told herself that
she was not sure she was going
to get off at all. She could de
cide as she came near the place.
She would have to get off either
before she got there or after she
had passed, and walk back. The
conductor would think it strange
if a young girl got off the ear in
the country in front of an empty
barn. How would she manage
it? There had been houses on
the way, not far from the barn.
What was the name the conduc
tor had mentioned of the man
who had built another barn ? She
might get off at his house, but
still—stay—what was that ave
nue where they had said the rail
road would come some day with
a station? rtyiey had called it {
out as they stopped to let off the
woman and the little girl. Allis
ter avenue! That iyas it. She
would ask the conductor to. let
her off at Allister avenue.
She watched the way intent
ly; and, as they neared the nlace
where Allister avenue ought to
be her heart pounded so that she
felt quite conscious, as if she
were going to steal a barn and
carry it home in her coat pocket.
She managed to signal the car
to stop quite quietly, however,
and stepped down to the pave
ment as if it were her regular
stopping place. She was aware
of the curious gaze of both mo
torman and conductor, but she
held her head up, and walked a
few steps up Allister avenue un
til the car had whirred out of
sight. Then she turned anxiously,
looking down the road, and there
to her joy saw the stone gable
of the great barn high on its
knoll in the distance.
CHAPTER II..
Shirley walked down the dusty
road by the side of the car track,
elation and excitement in her
breast. What an adventure! To
be walking alone in this strange,
beautiful spring country, and no
body to interfere! It was her
Father’s beautiful ont of doors,
and she had paid her extra nick
el to have a right to it for a
little while. Perhaps her mother
would have been worried at her
being alone in the country, but
Shirley had no fears. Young
people seldom have fears. She
walked down the road with a
free step and a bright light in
her eyes. She had to see that
bam somehow'; she just had to!
She was almost breathless
when she reached the bottom of
the hill at last, and stood in
front of the great barn. The up
car passed her just as she got
there, and the people looked out
at her apathetically as they
w’ould at auy country girl. She
stood still a minute and watched
the car up the hill and out of
sight, then picked her way across
tiie track and entered the field
where the fence was broken
down, walking up the long gras
sy slope to the front of the barn
and standing still at the top in
front of the big double doors, so
grim and forbidding.
The bam was bigger than it
looked in the distance. She felt
very small; yet her soul rejoiced ;
ia ita bigness. Oh, to have plen
ty of room for once!
She put her nose close to the
big doors, and tried to rind a
oracfc to look through; but the
doors were tight and fitted well.
There was no use trying to see
in from there. She turned and
ran down the long grassy slope,
tryiug to pretend it was a pala
tial stairway, then around the
aide to the back of the barn, and
there at last she found a door
part way ajar, opening into what
■lust hare been the cow stables,
and she slipped joyously in.
Some good angel must have been !
protecting her in her ignorance ,
and innocence, for that dark
base meat of the barn would have
been an excellent hiding place
for a whole regiment of tramps;
but she trod safely on her way,
•ud found nothing but a field
■•«« to dispute her entrance;
■■4 it arm cried hastily under the
foundation, and disappeared.
The oow stables evidently had
■ot been, occupied for a number
•t jmJk, for the place was clean
oa4 l*Mare4 with dry straw, as
it had Chile* and sifted from the
floor store. The stalls were ail
Wapty a«w. a*d old farm impie
■■S'-l—.. I
merits, several plows and a rick
ety wagon occupied the dusty,
cobwebby spaces beyond the
stalls. There were several open
ings, rude doorways and crude
windows; and the place was not
unpleasant, for the back of it
opened directly upon a sloping
hill which dropped away to the
running brook below, and a little
stone spring house, its mossy roof
half hiddeu by a tangle of wil
lows. Shirley stood in a door
way and gazed with delight, then
turned back to her investigation.
This lower place would not due
for human habitation, of course;
it was too low and damp, and the
floor was only mud. She must
penetrate if possible to the floor
above.
Presently she found a rough
ladder, cleats nailed to uprights
against the wall; and up this she
crept, cautiously to the opening
above, and presently emerged
into the wide floor of the real
barn.
There were several small win
dows, left open, and the sweet
spring air swept gently-in; and
there wer6 little patches of pale
sunshine in the misty recesses of
the great dim room. Gentle motes
floated in the sharp lances of
sunshine that stole through the
cracks; another ladder rose in
th<‘ midst of the great floor to
the loft above; and festoons of
ancient hay and cobwebs hung
dustily down from the opening
above. After Shirley had skipped
about *the big floor and investi
gated every corner of it, imag
ining how grand it would be to
set the table in one end of the
room and put mother’s bed be
hind a screen in the other end,
with the old piano somewhere in
the center and the big parlor
chair,mended, near by, the old
couch covered with a portiere
. _ i * . _ it. ii. i
auiuM^ v/i-i titu uiun isiuc, auc
turned her attention to the loft,
and, gathering courage, climbed
up there.
There were two great open
ings that let in the light; but
they seemed like tiny mouse
holes in the great place, and the
hay lay sweet and dim, thinly
scattered over the whole big
floor. In one corner there was
' quite a luxurious lot of it, and
Shirley east herself down upon
it for a blessed minute, and
looked up to the dark rafters, lit
with beams of sunlight creeping
through fantastic craeks here
and there, and wondered how the
boys would enjoy sleeping up
here, though there was plenty of
room downstairs for a dozen
sleeping rooms for the matter of
that.
Foolish, of course, and utterly
impossible, as all day dreams al
ways had been; but somehow it
seemed so real and beaut iful that
she could scarcely bring herself
to abandon it. Nevertheless, her
investigation had made her hun
gry, and she decided at last to
go down and eat her lunch un
der the big tree out in the sun
shine ; for it was dark and stuffy
inside, although one could re
alize how beautiful it would be
with those two great doors flung
wide, and light and air let in.
The day vrtis perfect, and Shir
ley found a beautiful place to sit,
high and sheltered, whei’e she
would not be noticed when the
trolley ears sped by; and, as she
ate her sandwiches she let her
imagination build a beautiful pi
azza where the grassy rise came
up to the front of the barn, and
saw in thought her mother sit
ting with the children at the
tioor. nuw uuuu it wuuiu ue
to live in a home like this, even
if it were a barn! If they could
just Ret but here for the sum
mer it would do wonders for
them all, and pul new heart into
her mother for the hard work of
tlnv winter. Perhaps by fall
mother wiuld be well enough to
keep boarders as she longed to
do, and so help out with the
tinanees more.
Well, of course, this was just
one of her wild schemes, and
she must not think any more
about it, much less even speak of |
it at home, for they would never
get done laughing and teasing
her for it.
She finished the last crumb
•f the piece of one-egg cake that
Carol had” made the day before
for her luneh, and ran down to
the spring to see whether she
canid get a drink, for she was
very thirsty.
Tfesre proved to be an old tin
can on the stones in the spring
house, doubtless used by the last
tramp or conductor who came
that way; but Shirley scrubbed
it carefully in the sand, drank
a delirious draught, and washed
her bauds and face in the clear
cold water. Then she Avent back
to the barn again, for a neAv
thought, had entered her mind.
Supposing it were possible to
rent that place for the summer
at any reasonable priee, how
could they cook and hoAv keep
Avarm 1 Of course there were
such things as caudles and oil
lamps for lighting, but cooking!
Would they have to build a fire
out of doors and play at camp
ing? Or would they have to
resort to oil stoves? Oil stoves
AA'ith their sticky, oily outsides
and their mysterious moods of
smoke and sulkiness, out of
Avhieh only an expert could coax
them!
But, though she stood on all
•sides of that barn and gaed up
at the roof aud though she
searched each floor diligeutly,
she could find no sign of a chim
ney anywhere. Her former ac
quaintance with barns bad not
put her into a position to judge
Avhether this Avas a customary
lack of barns or not. There Avere
two Avooden, chimney like struc
tures decorating the roof, but
it was all too evident that they
Avere solely for purposes of or
nament. Her-heart sank. What
a grand fireplace there might
have been right in the middle of
the great wall opposite the door!
Could anything be more ideal!
She could fancy ner mother sit
sitting in front of it, Avith Harley
and Doris on the floor playing
with a kitten. But there was no
fireplace. She wondered vague
ly whether a stovepipe could be
put out of the window and so
iuun\> j »v/or** l/av. u ill i/ iu u ijL! laj l
cook stove. She was sure she had
seen stovepipes coming out of all
sorts of odd places in the cities.
But, would the owners allow it?
And would any fire at all per
haps make it dangerous and af
fect the fire insurance? Oh,
there were so many things to
think about, and it was all so
impossible, of course.
She turned with heavy heart,
and let herself down the ladder.
It was time she went home, for
the afternoon was well on its
way. She could hear the whir
of the trolley ear going up. She
must be out and down the road
a little way to get the next one
that passed it at the switch
when it came back.
So with a wistful glance about
the big dusty floor she turned
away and went down to the
ground floor and out into the
afternoon sunshine.
Just as she crossed the knoll
and was stepping over the bro
ken fence she sa wa clump of
clover, and among the tiny stems
one bearing four leaves. She-was
not superstitious, nor did the
clover mean any special omen
to her; but she stooped, smiling,
aud plucked it, tucking it into
the buttonhole of her coat, and
hurried down the road, for she
could already hear the returning
trolley ear, and she wished to be
■a little farther, from the barn
before it overtook her. Some
how she shrank from having
people in the car know where
she had been, for it seemed like
exposig -her audacious wish to
the worldn.
Seated i the ear, she turned
her eyes back to the last glimpse
of the stone gables and the
sweepig branches of the budding
tree as the ear sped®down the
hill aud curved away behind au
other slope.
After ail, it was but 4 :30 when
the ear reached the city hall. Its
route lay on half a mile nearer
to the little brick house, and she
could stay in it and have a sbort
ter walk 4£ she chose. It was
ot in the least likely anybody
would be in any office at this
hour of the day, anyway; (hat
is, anybody with authority; but
somehow Shiiley had to signal
that ear and get out, lung walk
o rnot. A strong desire seized
her to put her fate to the test
and either crush out this dream
of hers forever or find out at
onee it had a foundation- to live.
She walked straight to the
Ward Trust building and
searched the bulletin board in
the hallway Carefully. Yes, there
it was: “Graham-Waiter—fourth
floor front.” j
With rapidly beating heart she
entered the elevator and tried to
steady her voice as she said
“Fourth;” but it shook in spite
of her. What was she doing!
How dared she!' What should
she say when they asked her
what she wanted!
But Shirley's firm little lips
were set, and her head had that
tilt that her mother knew meant
business. She bad gone so far
..jWI »'* t
she would see the matter to the
finish, even if it was Tidieulous.
h’or now that she was actually
on the elevator and almost to the
fourth floor it seemed the most
extraordinary thing in the world
for a gii) to enter a great busi
ness office and demand that its
head should stoop t.o rent- her an
old harn out in the country for
the infinitesimal sum she could
offer. He would perhaps think
her crazy, and have her put out.
But she got out of the elevator
calmly anil balded down the hall
to where a ground glass door pro
claimed in gold letters thde name
die was hunting. Timidly she
turned the knob and entered a
large room, spacious and high
ceilinged, with Turkish rugs on
the inlaid floor, leather chairs
and mahogany desks.
There was no one in the office
but a small office hoy, who lolled
idly on one elbow on the table,
reading the funny page of the
lfternoon paper. She paused, half
frightened, and looked about her
ippealingly; and now she began
o be afraid she was too late. It
lad taken longer than she had
bought it would to get here. It
vas almost 4:45 by the big clock
an the wall. Ho head of ft busi
less firm was likely to stay in
:iis office so late in the day as
hat, she knew. Yet she eould
lear the steady click of typewri
te keys in an inner office; he
night have remained to dictate a
otter.
The office boy looked up inso
ent.Iy.
in air. uranara ini asKed
Shirley.
“Which Mr. Graham?’’
“ Why,” hesitating and eateh
ng the name on the door, “Mr.
Walter Graham.*’
“No, he isn’t here. Never here
ifter 4 o’clock. The boy
iropped on his elbow again and
resumed his reading.
“Oh!” *aid Shirley, dismayed
low in spite of her fright as she
iaw all hope fading frdom her.
‘Well, is there another—I mean
s the other—Mr. Graham in?”
Someone stirred in the inner
iffiec and came across to the
ioor, looking out, someone with
in overcoat and hat on. He
ooked at the girlj and then spoke
sharply to the boy, who stood up
straight as if he had been shot.
"Edward! See what the lady
wants.”
“Yes, sir!” said Edward with
mdden respect.
Shirley caught her breath, and
plunged in.
“I would like to see some Mr.
Graham if possible for just a mo
nent.” There was something self
possessed and business like in her
eoiee now that commanded the
boy’s attention. Her brief busi
ness training was upon her.
The figure from the inner room
emerged and took off his hat. He
was a young man and strikingly
handsome, with heavy dark hair
that wave over his forehead and
fine, strong features. His eyes
were both keen and kind. There
was something luminous in them
that made Shirley think of Doris’
syes when she asked a question.
Doris had wonderfully wise eyes.
“I am Mr. Sidney Graham,”,
laid the young man, advancing.'
‘What can I do for you?”
“Oh, I wanted to ask you
about a barn,” began Shirley
eagerly, then stopped abashed.
How could she ask this immacu
late son of luxury if he would
rent a young girl his barn ta
live in during the summer? She
;ould feel the color mounting in
tier cheeks/ and would have
turned’and fled gladly if a way
bad been open. She was aware
not only of the kind eyes of the
nan before her, but also pf the
Raping boy taking it all in, and
tier tongue was suddenly tied.
She could say no more.
(To Be Continued Next Week)
Marshal Foch's Mail.
From the New York Times.
Over the portal of the College of
L'arbes, where Ferdinand Foch was
mce a student, there is the following
inscription: "JVIay this house remain
'standing until the ant has drunk a>l
‘the waves of the sea and the tortoise
has crawled around the world.’’ It was
noting Fooh’s indelible lesson of pa
ience. Patience he must need i«
abundant measure to deal with the cor
espondence that has descended upon
lim like an avalanche since he became
famous as the greatest soldier of h4»
Jme. His mail is said to be enormous,
■le hears, of course, from enemies as
veil as from friends, from critics as
veil as admirers. He is praised and
lamned in one post. Books, odes, gongs,
rifts threaten to engulf him. Auto
graph collectors lay siege to him by the
housand. Mothers name their sons af
:er him and want him to know it at
mce. His advice is solicited in mat
ers about which he confesses that he
cnows nothing at all. Inventors of
leath-dealing contrivances are sure that
le is interested In them. An American
lumped upon his desk the other da*r
wo dozen letters and packages, a*l
egistered. Peace may have more ter
*ors for a marshal of France ttiak frho
kill tide of war.
r*o Victorian Dotage.
The prudes of both seves oaa howl
din til red in Jire ?ac$, bu* Rtoa safe bet
:hat American wpmen raver iri bo
ured back to the elawry of Ytotarian
^rimoeas and dow«Unee».