is m tm cow m cans
Until entirely rid of a cough or cold, look out They are a sourceof danger.
Just a few dcaee of Po-ru-na SI Njl ■ | M Two generations have known |
taken r.oon after uaposure or 0*^ g* mVQt g 80fffd fffl PE-RU- NA and its a. toniah
fur ,manifestation of trouble ft 2l p,|9 N H «,£* ?! ing sueee«i in tho relief of
will usu&My Lreiik a cold or ■ ■■ n»^3r I us 1 catarrh a J diseases. The pro
du-sipAtt! in a hurry the most per medians to have on baud
pertistecl cough. T!lS #tl! KS6*3 EElSigeSCJ E:ni!:j for everyday ilia.
TABLET3 OR LIQUID t— -— -.. BOLD EVERYWHERE
teif* KEEP IT IN THE HOUSE
1.6799
DIED
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neglecting pain3 and aches. Guard
against thi3 trouble by taking
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The world's standard remedy for kidney,
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Concerning Hiccups.
Gen. Coleman Du Pont. Delaware's
new senator was lunching in the sen
ate restnu’imit.
"This ni.u'tizlne here," he said, lay
ing a periodical aside, "contains a long
article on the heat way to stop hic
cups. Now, It seems to mo—"
And General Du Pont chuckled.
"II .scans to me,” he added, “that
n good many readers would rather
know the best way to start them."
Drawing It Too Fine.
After hiving (lie prospective house
maid fui! details as lo her duties, thci
mistress of the bouse was on the (mint
of turning nway when a thought struck
her suddenly.
"Oil, by (he way," she asked, “do
you (know your way to announce?"
“Well, ma’am," replied Mary, "I’m
not sure about that, but I think I'
know my weight to a pound or so.”
A Business V3e.il.
“Remember, I don’t know anything
about business. In business matters
I’m a baby.”
"Can’t deal witli you. then. A baby
wants it ail. Send me somebody who
docs know some tiling about business."
The man who leaves Die world no
better than be found It Is a worse par
ustte than dodder.
ConsciiMice is not an absolutely cer
tain guide. Conscience needs n moral
education.
Writer Judged by Style.
And, after all. ft ii style alone by
which posterity will Judge of a great
work, for an author can have nothing
truly his own hut his style.—Isaac Dis
raell.
MOTHER! MOVE
CHILD’S BOWELS WITH
CALIFORNIA FIG SYRUP
Hurry, mother! Even a sick child
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Eig Syrup” and It never falls to open
the bowels. A teaspoonful today may
prevent a sick child tomorrow. If con
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cold, colic, or if stomach is sour,
tongue coated, breath bad, remember a
good cleansing of the little bowels is
often all that Is necessary.
Ask your druggist for genuine “Cali
fornia Eig Syrup" which has directions
for babies and children of all ages
printed on bottle. Mother! You must
say “California" or you may get an
Imitation fig syrup.—Advertisement.
Can’t Fool ’Em,
Two colored gentlemen were en
gaged In conversation when one of
them became very much annoyed hy
the persistent attention of a large
(ly.
“Sam, whut kin’ n fly am dls?”
“Pat am a hoss fly.”
“A hoss fly am a fly whut buzzes
'roun cows, ’n’ bosses ’n’ Jackasses—”
“You ain’t nmkin’ out for to call me
no Jackass?”
"No, I nln’ mnkln’ out for to call
you no Jackass, but you can’t fool
deiti boss flies."—Forbes Magazine.
- j
Fans Don’t Mind.
"What’s tlds 1 hear?"
“Well?”
“A veteran plainsman says these
movie cowboys don’t even know how
to ride a horse correctly.”
“That won't make any difference to
the average movie fan who never sees
a man on horseback unless he hap
pens to he a mounted policeman or
the grand marshal of u street pa
rade.”
Island Reclaimed by Ocean.
Off the northwest const of Australia
there used to be n beautiful Island 13
miles long. Hut It gradually sank
until It disappeared entirely, and at
the latest reports of sounding, It wus
found to be 50 feet below the sur
face of the water.
Come to think of It, about all there
Is of a man Is the goodness in his
heart.
The meek shall Inherit the earth—
but they must not grow impatient
about It.
What we wish Is the shadow; what
we will is the substance.
-.....
You remember the story
of the Pitcher—
It made a good many trips to tha well and It
came back in good order.
“I can take care of myself," it said—“they
don't need to talk about risks to me."
But it went once too often.
After that it was only part of a pitcher, and
they didn’t need to talk to it about risks—it knew.
A lot of people won’t believe coffee can harm
them until it does harm them.
“Nonsensel” they say, “it never disturbs me."
When it does disturb them, then they know.
Often the disturbance which they then recog
nize is the result of irritations to nerves and di
gestion which have been going on for a long time.
If you have to lie awake at night and count
the clock ticks, after an evening cup of coffee, then
you know that it’s better to he safe than sorry.
The risk of coffee's harm is gone when the
meal-time drink is Postum.
Here’s a delightful and satisfying table bev
erage, with charm for the taste and without harm
for nerves or digestion. You know you’re on the
right road with Postum; there’s never the pos
sibility that you’ll go once too often.
Postum cornea in two forms: Instant Postum (In tins)
mads instantly in the cup by tha addition of boiling water.
Postum Csreal (in packages of larger bulk, for those who
prsfsr to .make the drink while the meal is being prepared)
made by boiling for 20 minutes.
“There’s a Reason”
for Postum
Made by Postum Cereal Company, Inc., Battle Creek, Mich.
THE ENCHANTED BARN I
copyright 1918. by J. B. Upptncott Co.
She thought it all out orujhe
way back to the cottage, with a
little pang at the thought of los
ing the next day and of having
perhaps to stay over in Washing
ton a day and maybe miss the
arrival of Sidney Graham, if he
should come in a day or two, as
he had promised. He might even
come and go back again before
she was able to return, and per
haps "he would think her ungrate
ful to leave when he had been so
kind to plan all this lovely vaca
tion for her pleasure. Then she
brought herself up smartly and
told herself decidedly that it was
nothing to him whether she was
there or not, and it certainly had
no right to be anything to her.
It was a good thing she was go
ing, and would probably be a
good thing for all concerned if
she stayed until he went back to
the city again.
With this firm determination
she hurried up to the veranda
where her mother sat with Doris
and t&ld her story.
Mrs. Hollister looked troubled.
“I’m sorry you gave him an
answer, Shirley, without waiting
to talk it over with me. I don’t
believe I like the idea of your go
ing to a strange city, all alone
that way. Of course Mr. Barnard
will look after you in a way, but
still he’s a good deal of a strang
er. I do wish he had let you alone
for your vacation. It seems as if
lie might 'have found somebody
else to go. I wish Mr. Graham
was here. I shouldn’t wonder if
he would suggest some way out
of it for you."
But Shirley stiffened into dig
nity at once.
“Really, mother dear, I m sure
I don’t see what Mr. Graham
would have,to say about it if he
were here. I shouldn’t ask his
advice. You see, mother, really,
there isn’t anybody else that
could do this but Jimmie, Thorpe,
and lie’s out of the question. It
would be unthinkable that I
should refuse in this emergency.
And you know Mr. Barnard has
been very kind. Besides, think
of the ducky vacation I’ll have
afterward, a whole month! And
all that extra money! That shall
go to the rent of a better house
for winter! Think of it! Won’t
you worry, mother dear! There
isn’t a thing in the world could
happen to me. I’ll be the very
most discreetest person you ever
heard of. I’ll even glance shyly
at the White House and Capitol!
Come, let’s go up and get dolled
up for supper! Won’t the chil
dren be surprised when they hear
I’m really to gc to Washington!
I’m so excited I don’t know what
to do!”
Mrs. Hollister said no more,
and entered pleasantly into the
merry talk at the table, telling
Shirley what she must he snre
to see at the nation’s capital. But
the next morning just as Shirley
was about to leave for the sta
tion, escorted by all the children,
Mrs. Hollister came with a pack
age of addressed postal cards
which she had made George get
for her the night before, and
put them in Shirley’s bag.
“Just drop us a line as you
go along, dear,” she said. “I’ll
feel happier about it to be hear
ing from you. Mail one when
ever you have a chance.”
Shirley laughed as she looked
at the fat package.
All those, mother clean i ou
must expect I am going to stay
a month! You know I won’t
have much time for writing, and
I fully expect to be back tonight
or tomorrow at the latest.”
‘‘Well, that’s all right,” said
her mother. ‘‘You can use them
another time, then; but you can
just put a liue on one whenever
it is convenient. I shall enjoy
getting them even after you get
back. You know this is your first
journey out into the world
alone.”
Shirley stooped to kiss the lit
tle mother.
‘‘AH right, dear! I’ll write
you a serial story. Each one con
tinued in our next. Goodby!
Don’t take too long a walk today.
I want you rested to hear all I’ll
have to tell when I get back to
night!”
Shirley wrote the first pestal
card as soon as she was settled in
the train, describing the other oc
cupants of the ca-.-, and making
a vivid picture of the landscape
that was slipping by her win
dows. She wrote the seeoud in
the Baltimore station, after she
had met Mr. Barnard, while he
went to get seats iu the parlor
i nr, anfl she mailed them both at
Baltimore.
The third was written as they
neared Washington, with dim vis
ion of the great monument dawn
ing on her wondering sight in the
distance. Her last sentence gave
her first impression of the na
tion’s capital.
They had eaten lunch in the
dining car, a wonderful experi
ence to the girl, and she promised
herself another postal devoted to
that, but there was no time to
write more after they reached
Washington. She was put into a
taxi and whirled away to an of
fice where her work began. She
caught glimpses of great build
ings on the way, and gazed with
awe at the dome of the capitol
building. Mr. Barnard was kind
and pointed out this and that, but
it was plain his mind was on the
coming interview. When Shirley
sat at last in a quiet corner of
a big dark office, her pen poised,
her note-book ready for Avork,
and looked at the serious faces of
the men in the room, she felt as if
she had been rushed through a
treasure vault of glorious jeAvels
aud thrust into the darkness of a
tomb. But presently the talk
about her interested her. Things
Avere being said about the vital
interests of the country, scraps
of sentences that reminded her
of the trend of talk in the daily
papers, and the headings of front
columns. She looked about her
Avith interest and noted the
familiarity with Avhich these men
quoted the Avords of those high
up in authority in the govern
ment. With aAve she began her
Avork, taking doAvn Avhatever Mr.
Barnard dictated, her fingers
flying over the tiny pages of the
note book, in small neat charac
ters, keeping pace Avith the voices
going on about her. The detail
work she Avas setting doAvn was
not of especial interest to hex-,
save that it Avas concerned with
government Avor-k, for its phrase
ology was familiar and a part of
her daily routine office work at
home; but she set every sense
on the alert to get the tiniest de
tail and not to make the smallest
mistake, understanding from the
voices of the men about her that
it was of vital interest to the
country that this order should
be filled quickly and accurately.
As she capped her fountain pen,
and slipped the rubber band on
her note-book Avhen it Avas over,
she heard one of the men just
behind her say in a Ioav tone to
Mr. Barnard:
Y ou re sure or your secretary
of course? I just want to give
you the tip that this thing is be
ing very closely watched. We
have reason to believe there’s
some spying planned. Keep your
notes carefully and don’t let too
many ir on this. We know pret
ty well what’s going on, but it’s
not desirable just now to make
any arrests until we can watch
a little longer and round up the
whole party. So keep your eyes
peeled, and don’t talk.”
‘ ‘ Oh, certainly! I quite under
stand,” said Mr. Barnard, “and
I have a most discreet secre
tary,” and he glanced with a
significant smile toward Shirley
as she rose.
“Of course!” said the other.
“She looks it,” and he bowed
deferentially to Shirley as she
passed.
She did not think of it at the
time, but afterwards she recalled
how in acknowledging his cour
tesy she had stepped back a lit
tle and almost stumbled over a
page, a boy about George’s age,
who had been standing with
drawn into the shadow of the
deep window. She remembered
he had a keen intelligent look,
and had apologized and vanished
immediately. A moment later it
seemed to be the same boy in blue
clothes and gilt buttons who held
the other door open for them to
pass out—or wa3 this a taller
one? She glanced again at his
side face with a lingering thought
of George as she paused to fast
en her glove and slip her note
book into her hand bag.
“I think I will put you into the
taxi and let you go right back
to the station while I attend to
another errand over at the war
department. It won’t take me
long. We can, easily catch that
4 o’clock train back. I suppose
you are anxious to g\ l back to
night,?”
“Oh, yes,” said Shirley earn
estly, “I must, if possible. Moth
er isn’t well and she worries so
easily.
“Well, I don’t know why we
can’t. Then perhaps you can
come up to town tomorrow and
type those notes for us. By the
way, I guess it would be better
for me to take them and lock
them in the safe tonight. No,
don’t stop to get them out now”
—as Shirley began to unfasten
her bag and get the r.ote book
out—“We haven’t much time if
we want to catch that train. Just
look after them carefully and I’ll
get them when we are in the
train. ’ ’
He helped her into the taxi,
gave the order, “To the station,”
and touching his hat, went rapid
ly over to the war department
building. No one saw a boy with
a blue cap and brass buttons steal
forth on a bicycle from the court
just below the office, and circling
about the asphalt uncertainly for
a moment, shoot off across the
park.
Shirley sat up very straight
and kept her eyes about her. She
was glad they were taking anoth
er way to the station so that she
might see more. When she got
there she would write another
postal and perhaps it would go on
the same train with her.
It was all too short, that ride
up Pennsylvania avenue around
by the capitol. Shirley gathered
up her bag and prepared to get
out reluctantly. She wished she
might have just one more h'our to
go about, but of course that
would be impossible if she wished
to reach home tonight.
But before the driver of the car
could get down and open the door
for her to get out a boy with a
bicycle slid up to the curb and
touching his gilt buttoned cap re
spectfully said:
“Excuse me, Miss, but Mr.
Barnard sent me after you. He
says there’s been some mistake
and you’ll have to come back and
get it corrected.”
“Oh!” said Shirley, too sur
prised to think for a minute.
“Oh! Then please hurry, for Mr.
Barnard wants to get back in
time to get that 4 o’clock, train.”
The driver frowned, but the
boy stepped up and handed him
something, saying:
“That’s all right, Joe, he sent
you this.” The driver’s face
cleared and he started his ma
chine again. The boy vanished
into the throng. It was another
of Shirley’s after-memories that
she had caught a glimpse of a
scrap of paper along with the
money the boy had handed the
driver, and that he had stuffed it
in his pocket after looking in
tensely at it; but at the time she
thought nothing of it. She was
only glad that they were skim
ming along rapidly.
CHAPTER XXII.
Shirley’s sense of direction had
always been keen. Even as a
child she could tell her way home
when others were lost. It was
some minutes, however, before
she suddenly became aware that
the car was being driven in an
entirely different direction from
the place she had just left Mr.
Barnard. For a moment she
looked around puzzled, thinking
the man was merely taking an
other way around, but a glance
back where the white dome of the
capitol loomed, palace like, above
the city, made her sure that some
thing was wrong. She looked
at the buildings they were pass
ing, at the names of the streets—
F street—they had not been on
that before! These stores and
tall buildings were all new to her
eyes. Down there at the end of
the vista was a great building all
columns. Was that the treasury
and were they merely seeing it
from another angle? It was all
very confusing, but the time was
short, why had the man not tak
en the shorter way?
She looked at her small wrist
watch anxiously and watched
eagerly for the end of the street.
But before the great building was
reached the car suddenly curved
around a corner to the right—one
block—a turn to the left—an
other turn—a confusion of new
names and streets! New York
avenue! Connecticut avenue!
Thomas Circle 1 The names spun
by so fast she oould read but few
of them, au^ those she saw she
wanted to remember that she
might weave them into her next
postal. She opened her bag,
fumbled for her little silver pen
cil in the pocket of her coat and
scribbled down the names she
. could read a3 she passed, on the
back of the bundle of postal
cards, and without looking at
her writing. She did not wish to
miss a single sight. Here were
rows of homes, pleasant and pal
atial, some of them even cozy.
The broad avenues were enchant
ing, the park spaces, the lavish
scattering of noble statues. But
the time was hastening by and
they were going farther and
[farther and farther from the st*
tion and from the direction of tho
offices where site had been. She
twisted her neck once more and
the capitol dome loomed soft and
blended in the distance. A
thought of alarm leaped into her
mind. She leaned forward and
spoke to the driver:
“You understand, didn’t you,
that I am to return to the office
where you took me with the
The man nodded.
•gentleman?”
“All right, lady. Yes, lady!”
iAnd the car rushed on, leaping
•out upon the beautiful way and
disclosing new beauties ahead.
For a few minutes more Shirley
was distracted from her anxiety
in wondering whether the great
buildings on her right belonged
to any of the embassies or not.
And then as the car swerved and
plunged into another street and
darted into a less thickly popu
lated district, with trees and va
cant lots almost like the country,
alarm arose once more and she
looked wildly back and tried to
see the signs; but they were go
'ing faster still now upon a wide
empty road past stretches of
park, with winding drives and
charming views, and a great
stone bridge to the right, arch
ing over a deep ravine below, a
railroad crossing it. There were
deer parks fenced with high
wire, and filled with the pretty
creatures. Everything went by
so fast that Shirley hardly real
ized that something really must
:be wrong before she seemed to be
jin the midst of a strange world
'aloof.
“I am sure you have made a
mistake! ’ ’ The girl’s clear voice
cut through the driving wind as
•they rushed along. “I must go
back right away to that office
from which you brought me. I
must go at once or I shall be too
late for my train! The gentle
man will be very angry!!” She
spoke in the tone that always
brought instant obedience from
the employees around the office
building at home.
But the driver was stolid. He
(scarcely stirred in his seat to
turn toward her. His thick voice
was brought back to her on the
breeze:
“No, lady, it’s all right, lady I
I had my orders, lady! You
needn’t to worry. I get you there
plenty time.”
A wild tear seized Shirley, and
her heart lifted itself as was its
habit, to God. “Oh, my Father!
Take eare of me! Help me 1
Show me what to do!” she cried.
Thoughts rushed through her
brain as fast as the car rushed
over the ground. What was she
up against? Was this man crazy
or bad? Was he perhaps try
ing to kidnap her? What for?
She shuddered to look the
thought in the face. Or was it
the notes? She remembered the
men in the office and what they
had said about keeping still and
[“spying enemies.” But perhaps
she was mistaken. Maybe this
man was only stupid, and it
would all come out right in a few
minutes. But no, she must not
Wait for anything like that. She
must take no chance. The notes
iwere in her keeping. She must
'put them where they would be
safe. No telling how soon she
would be overpowered and
searched if that was what they
were after. She must hide them,
and she must thing of some way
to send word to Mr. Barnard be
fore it was too late. No telling
iwhat moment they would turn
Ifrom the main road and she be
'hidden far from human habita
tion. She must work fast. What
icould she do? Scream to the next
passer-by? No, for the car was
going too fast for that to do any
jgood, and the houses up this way
seemed all to be isolated, and few
'people about. There were houses
on ahead beyond the park. She
must have something ready to
throw out when they came to
them. “Oh God! Help me think
what to do!” she prayed again,
and then looking down at her
ibag she saw the postal cards.
/Just the thing! Quickly she
scribbled, still holding her hand
within the bag so that her move
ments were not noticeable:
Help! yuiek! ueing car
ried, off! Auto! Connecticut
| Ave.! Park. Deer. Stone
bridge. Phone Mr. Clegg. Don’t
tell mother! Shirley.”
' She turned the card over, drew
a line through her mother's name
and wrote Carol’s in its place.
Stealthily she slipped the card up
; her sleeve, dropped her hand
carelessly over the side of the
.car for a moment, let the card
flutter from her fingers, and
I wrote another. __
To be continued next week.
Count Bentlnck’s daughtcrlnlaw has
published a book about what happened
at Amerongen; which Count Bentinck.
In his loyalty to the kaleer, has pro
nounced "composed of gossip and hear
say. and inspired by vanity and greed."
The book Is expected to sell. ,