Image provided by: University of Nebraska-Lincoln Libraries, Lincoln, NE
About The frontier. (O'Neill City, Holt County, Neb.) 1880-1965 | View Entire Issue (April 8, 1937)
Victoria Herrendeen, an odd-looking,
vivacious little girl, had been too young
■ to feel the shock that came when her
father. Keith Herrendeen. lost his for
tune. A gentle, unobtrusive soul, he is
now employed as an obscure chemist
■in San Francisco, at a meager salary.
iHis wife, Magda, cannot adjust herself
'to the change. She is a beautiful woman,
fond of pleasure and a magnet for men’s
Attention. Magda and Victoria have
Ibeen down at a summer resort and
■Keith joins them for the week-end.
IMagda leaves for a bridge party, excus
ing herself for being such a "runaway."
There was a little boat waiting at
the pier just below the lodge; a
white little boat gushing blots of
white dancing light onto the dark
“They’re going out to that yacht
out there for dinner,” Victoria told
"Oh, yes,” he said, looking in
the direction of the lodge.
“Dad, why don’t you like going to
Well, for one thing I can t ai
ford it, Vic.”
► ‘‘Ah, but they ask her. They
don’t let it cost her anything.”
‘‘They give her dresses, too,” Vic
toria said, thinking.
“Mrs. Lester did—that dark blue
“I thought she bought that at a
“No; Mrs. Lester’s maid, Lotty,
brought it over in a box. And an
other blue dress, too.”
They walked along in silence for
a while. Presently Victoria said:
“We’ve had a happy day, haven’t
“I’m glad you have,” her father
said, stopping to bend down and
Victoria had to sleep on the porch
cot that night, as she always did
when Dad was there.
In the night she wakened, and
heard their voices—her father’s
and her mother’s. Her mother’s
was almost inaudible, and had a
“please hush” note in it with which
Victoria was entirely familiar. Her
father’s was not very loud, but
“I’m not saying it’s easy for you,
Magda. I say it’s simply your luck.
We had it—lots of it. And God
knows I didn’t hold out on you then.
Now we haven’t got it any more,
and that’s your bad luck.
Silence. And then Mother’s voice,
very low and gentle:
“Keith, I know how hard it is for
you, dear. And if you feel that way
I simply won’t go. But it does seem
a wonderful chance. We happen—
^ we four, the Harwoods and Grace
Cuthbertson and I—to play a mar
velous foursome of bridge, and Col
lins—that’s the brother—cuts in now
and then, so it makes it perfect.
They’re only to be gone five weeks.
I could get Victoria’s things
straightened out, and ask Hetty to
get your dinners . . .”
There was another plause. Pres
ently the man said:
l “You have no further affection—
no interest in either one of us, I
“Oh, please!” the woman’s voice
protested mildly. “I suppose this
will go on into the forties and the
fifties, boarding houses and Pine
“It won’t be forever,” Keith Her
“It’ll be until I’m too old to
care!” Victoria heard her mother
say. Then there was a long silence,
while the little girl lay listening on
the porch with her heart hammer
ing like a wild bird’s and her ears
strained, and her whole little body
tensed with fear.
“Go, then, said her father out
of the pause. They hadn’t gone to
sleep then; the quarrel was still on.
“Oh, no; I won’t go now,” her
mother said gently and sweetly, in
a normal voice.
“Well, now I tell you to go, that
doesn’t suit you!”
“It would be impossible for me to
go now.” Mrs. Herrendeen mur
mured firm!'' ns if the whole mat
ter were settled.
“Now, why no you want to act
like that about it, Magda?” the
man demanded, with a faint hint of
uneasiness, of change, in his tone.
Silence. Silence. Victoria heard
her father’s snore, light at first,
swiftly deepening. Her heart began
► to beat more quietly. A night bird
cried in the garden; the sea rushed
and retreated on the rocks.
A whimpering sob broke through
the other sounds; Victoria froze
Her mother was crying; bitterly,
brokenly crying, and keeping the
noise of it soft, so that no one should
Victoria suffered as if from physi
cal pain. The crying went on for a
^ long time; a clock struck one for
some half-hour: struck four. It was
The world was gray in shadowless
light when Victoria slipped noise
lessly from bed and stepped to the
open window. She looked in. Her
father was asleep, no doubt of that,
for he was still healthily snoring.
It was at the lightly covered form
of her mother that she looked stead
ily; was she sleeping?
No, the beautiful dark eyes were
wide open, fixed on Victoria in the
window. Mrs. Herrendeen beck
oned, and Victoria flew to her arms,
and they kissed each other, the child
hugged down against the tumbled
covers and the little lacy pillows.
“You muggins, what waked you
up?” the woman demanded in a
breath that was less than a whisper.
' Mother, are you all right.'
“Perfectly all right, sweetheart.”
“But, Mother, were you crying?”
“I got too tired, and that’s why I
cried, and I’m a very silly mother.”
Victoria laughed the shadow of
her own rich affectionate little
laugh, and there were more kisses.
Then she went back to her cold
tumbled porch bed, and snuggled
down inside it, and was asleep be
fore the morning’s first chill blan
ket of fog began to creep in across
the level dim floor of the ocean.
When they were at home in the
city, Magda Herrendeen never got
up for breakfast. She always said
that she loved getting up in the
morning when there was anything
to do. But in the five-room apart
ment on Pine street there was not
much to do.
Keith got himself a cup of coffee
and boiled two-minute oats for Vic
toria, or scrambled eggs for them
both. The rest was just bread and
butter, and milk poured from the
Magda sometimes got up and got
herself some orange juice, or even
a cup of tea. She would come back
with the mail, the newspaper car
ried with a smoking cup or the
glass. Settling down again, she
would yawn wearily; what horrible
things were in the house for dinner,
and what should be ordered?
At eleven the telephone would
ring, and then there would be a
change. A change in her, and a
change in the general atmosphere.
“My dear, I don’t think I can to
day,” she would say. “But it sounds
too divine! How late would we be?
... I see. Let me think . . .
What are you wearing, Ethyl? . . .
Yes, I have; I could wear the blue
that Eleanor brought me from Paris
... Yes, I know. But let me think
about it and call you again!”
Victoria knew how this went; she
had heard it many times, for after
all she had not been long in school,
and there were always long Satur
day mornings at home. Her mother
would hang up the telephone only
to seize it once more. She would
be all vitality, all energy now. Her
beautiful eyes would be dancing, her
manner absent-minded but sweet
and happy again.
“Vic, could you go down to Flor
ence’s—or wait over at school until
six? Daddy’ll be here early, you
know; I’ll leave a message for him
to call for you . . .”
And while she talked, Magda
would be packing things in her
handsome suitcase, laughing, glanc
ing at the clock, snatching the tele
phone again. Perhaps she would
talk to a man this time.
“Rudy, this is Magda. Ethyl and
all cf them are going to Jane’s to
night; are you? . . . Oh, wonder
ful! When are you going down? For
the polo? . . . Oh, fine! Could you
take me along? . . . Well, you’re a
darling ... I know, but anyway
you’re a darling ... In about an
hour? In about an hour.”
But after her eleventh birthday,
after that visit to the beach house,
there was a change between her
parents, and Victoria saw it, or
perhaps felt it rather than saw it.
Her mother was gentler, sweeter,
more affectionate than ever when
she was with them, but she was
with them much less.
On the other hand Victoria’s fa
ther grew silent, and gray, and dis
agreeable, as the months went by
and were years. He rarely spoke
at all at home, and in the evenings
he almost always went out.
“Is Dad worried about business
these days, Mother?” Victoria, four
teen years old, asked one day.
“I don’t think so especially, dar
ling. I think he w«js a little cross
because they wanted me to be in
“And shall you be?”
“I don’t know. I’m trying to
think it out. I hate,” Mrs. Herren
dcen said, smiling through the sud
den tears that filled her beautiful
eyes— "I hate to trouble Daddy.
But he does seem to me unreason
able. Men have their pleasures,
and women have theirs. It isn’t
my fault that the nicest—actually
the nicest—persons in this part of
the world have been so extraordi
narily generous to me.”
“But why don’t they invite him?”
“But they do, my dear! Of course
they do! Daddy could go every
where that I go, if he would. But
he doesn’t enjoy it”
Victoria pondered this awhile in
“When I’m asked to a smart din
ner, or the opera, or to stay down
in Hillsborough for some special par
ty, am I to hang my head and say,
‘Oh, thank you, but Mr. Herrendeen
likes me to be at home nights’?”
“I don’t think he’d mind if it
was only now and then,” she sug
“Ah, but that’s the trouble, VTc.
You can’t play fast and loose. In
three months they’d all have for
gotten me. Their lives go too fast.
They go abroad, or to New York or
Hawaii; there are always mar
riages—people coming and going
“Divorces,” Victoria supplied
simply, as her mother paused.
Magda laughed, with a little touch
of color in her face.
“Well, yes, divorces. Everything
is whirling all the while—visitors
from the East, the polo teams, the
golf people. You can’t let go. To
get out of it for two months—to de
cline five invitations in a row, Vic—
would mean you were out forever.”
Again Victoria looked at her
“And would Dad like you to do
“Why, he’s been so glum and si
lent these last months I hardly
know. Ever since you and I went
down to Santa Barbara last summer
he’s seemed to feel he has a griev
ance.” Again the beautiful affection
ate eyes filled with tears.
Victoria’s heart ached for her
with a fierce wrench of pain and
sympathy. She knew of what her
mother was thinking on these hot
days; she was thinking of her
friends at Tahoe, and up on the
Klamath river, and down on the
cool shores of Pebble beach and
Presently Magda came back to
“You do see that it’s hard for me,
Victoria? What would you do?”
“Oh, yes; oh, yes,” Victoria
agreed. “It’s—it’s hard on us all!”
“Hard on you, too, dear?” Her
mother asked quickly, in a tone
that shrank away from pain.
“Hard to see you unhappy and see
him unhappy,” Victoria said, her
There was a ring at the door.
Victoria was glad to go to answer
it; the conversation had gotten com
pletely out of hand. She came in
with a great box of flowers; there
were often boxes of flowers, but not
often as large as this.
Victoria ran about getting vases
“And what’s in the box. Mother,
the little box?”
Mrs. Herrendeen was smiling su
perbly, shaking her head. The card,
twisted and wired in a wet envelope,
“But Why Don’t They Invite
was in her hand; the little square
jeweler’s box with it.
“What’s in it. Mother?” Victoria
“I hate to look,” the woman said.
“I know it’s going to make me
“I think so. Oh,” Magda mur
mured, under her breath, “he has
no right to do that!”
"Do you know who it is before you
even read the card, Mother?”
“I think I do. I think* it’s my
very rich friend, Mr. Manners,”
“The Spanish one?”
"He is half Spanish, 1 believe.”
Magda slowly brought forth the
card, glanced git it, crumpled it to
pulp. Victoria’s eager eyes were
upon her as she opened the little
box, cutting its heavy cords and
breaking away the wax seals. There
were a cardboard box, a light
wooden box, a lined jewel case in
which a heavy diamond bracelet
was flashing and gleaming on a
“What does the note say, Moth
"Just—well, nothing, really Ri
diculous!” the woman murmured,
her expression partly amused, part
ly pleased, partly impatient.
“It’s beautiful,” Victoria said, of
the bracelet. “Are they expen
“Only a few thousand,’’ net moth
er answered carelessly. She fitted
the bracelet carefully back in its
case; replaced the wooden box, the
cardboard box, and yawned.
"Don't you like him, Mother?"
"Who? Ferd Manners?"
"Is that his name? It doesn’t
sound very Spanish.”
"It’s Ferdinand de Something
Manners. I believe his mother was
an Argentine heiress. He's lived
there a great deal”
"You might know he was Span
ish,” Victoria said brightly, "or he
wouldn’t think he could send a mar
ried lady jewelry!"
"True for you, Miss Herrendeen!”
her mother agreed, going into the
bedroom with the box. Until she
could return it, she would hide it,
Victoria knew. Dad must know
nothing of this.
The afternoon dragged. After a
while Victoria put on her old white
serge skirt and a white thin sweat
er, pulled a small white hat over
her bobbed head, and went to the
library to get a new book. When
she came back at five, her mother
was entertaining a caller. It was
a square, dark - skinned man,
sprawled in a low chair, a glass of
champagne between his big brown
"This is my little girl, Mr. Man
“Come, it was to be Ferdinand!"
the man said, his voice and accent
instantly betraying the Latin.
"It was not,” Magda countered
simply, smiling. She was in some
thing soft and cool and pale blue;
she had had time to dress, time to
draw shades and set the flowers
"Are you going up to Helen's?”
he was presently asking. He paid
no attention to Victoria. Magda
shook her head. "You're not?” the
man demanded surprised.
"My little spare tire," Victoria's
mother said, her arm about her.
"But good gracious, take her!
Connie’s girl must be about her
“No,” Magda said, gently shak
ing her had. “Not just now, any
way. But it must be lovely up
there! I've never been there, you
know. Phyllis was telling me of
some place—the Braverman place
right on the water—"
“But that’s just the place I am
going to buy!” Ferdinand Manners
exclaimed. When Magda presently
went out of the room to bring him
her Spanish shawl, he asked Vic
toria if she knew that she had a
very beautiful mother. He bent his
russet head over the shawl. "Yes,
that is a fine shawl,” he said. “What
does the man offer you?”
Victoria was shocked. Was Moth
er going to sell the famous old
shawl? She saw that her mother
hadn’t wanted her to know.
“He offers me three hundred—
Marsh. It’s to be edged with fur
for a wrap. They’ll take all this
off.” Magda ran her fine thin hand
through creamy silk fringes so stiff
that they looked like cotton.
Just a week later Victoria brought
in a great box just delivered from
Marsh’s; the shawl was inside. It
had been changed into a sumptuous
evening wrap with a border all the
way about it of soft white fur. And
this gift her mother did not return.
She put it away in the great trunk
that always stood in her room; there
was small closet space in the apart
That same week, on another
sticky sultry night, Keith Herren
deen came in looking tired and pale
at six o’clock, apparently more than
ordinarily wearied by the burden
and heat of the day. He sank into
a chair in the sitting room that was
also the dining room, where Victoria
was already setting the table.
"I brought you a little present,
Magda," he said, his face suddenly
bright with a smile. “It’s not much,
It was an Emporium box; a white
linen jacket, unlined, with a smart
dark blue stripe about the collar
and cuffs. The tag was still on
it; he explained that she was free
to exchange it if she liked. Vic
toria sent a quick apprehensive
glance toward her mother. The
bracelet that had cost thousands
had been sent back, but the re
mains of the great crate of flowers,
and fresh flowers, were everywhere,
and deep in her mother’s trunk was
the beautiful shawl with its new
border of pure white ermine.
Mrs. Herrendeen stood fingering
the linen jacket. The staring “$3.95”
on a tag was in her hand, as the
fringe of the shawl had been a few
“It’s very sweet, Keith,” she said,
holding her tone low. But it was no
use; in a minute she was crying
convulsedly, bitterly, senselessly,
standing at the window, with her
shaking shoulders to the room, j
“Don’t mind me,” she said thickly, j
“I’m crazy. Don’t pay any at
tention to me!”
"I’ll be damned if i understand
you sometimes, Magda,” Keith said
(TO BE CONTINUED)
Bird's Skeleton Most Rigid
The skeleton of a bird is the
most rigid of all the animals.
Bones fuse together and overlap.
The familiar "wish bone” is simply
the two collar bones grown together
to give greater strength to the at
tachment of wings. The breastbone
is not flat as in most animals, but
has an enormous ridge down the
middle for the attachment of flight
muscles. These muscles are rela
tively hundreds of times more pow
erful than similar muscles in man.
In some birds they are so highly
developed that they represent half
the bird’s entire weight.
By Elmo 9) Western
C .. irr . Newspaper
Scott If atson umon
WHEN you buy one of those
scarlet-petaled flowers called
the poinsettia to add to the festive
appearance of your home at Christ
mas time, you are helping perpetu
ate the fame of an American who
little realized that his name would
become associated with one of the
symbols of the Yuletide. For Joel
R. Poinsett had so many other
claims to distinction that it seems
curious he is best remembered be
cause a flower bears his name!
Born in South Carolina in 1779, he
studied both medicine and military
science abroad but his father in
duced him to abandon his intention
of entering the army and to be
come a student of law. Poor health
forced him to give that up and he
asked President Madison for a com
mission in the army.
Instead he wss sem on a dip
lomatic mission to South America
where he mixec in the politics of
Chile, and fomented revolution un
til he became known as “the
scourge of the American continent”
and was recalled. Next he was sent
to Mexico. Always interested in
botany, he brought back from that
country the flower which was given
the scientific name of “Poinsettia
Just as he had been a stormy
petrel in international politics, so
he was a disturbing element in the
politics of Lis native land. During
the Nullification controversy in
South Carolina he organized and led
the Unionist forces. By doing
that he won the esteem of the nation
al government and President Van
Buren made him secretary of war.
Poinsett improved and enlarged
the army, organized a general staff,
built up the artillery, directed the
Seminole war and managed the re
moval of some 40,000 Indians to In
dian Territory. In the midst of this
activity his scientific interests were
not neglected. He experimented
with scientific agriculture, sent out
the Wilkes expedition into the Ant
arctic and was largely instrumental
in founding the National Institute
for the Promotion of Science and
the Useful Arts which later was
merged with the Smithsonian Insti
tution. His busy career came to an
end in 1851 while he was living in
retirement as a plantation owner in
his native state.
Brooklyn Bridge Jumper
BACK in the eighties the Brooklyn
bridge was one of the wonders
of the modern world. Its dedication
on May 24, 1883 was an event of
nation-Wide interest but three years
later it was even more in the news
because of a man with whose name
that great span has been linked in
popular memory ever since.
He was Steve Brodie, bootblack,
street car conductor, sailor and
worker around the docks who be
came a professional walker as a
means of earning some easy money.
But he was never better than a sec
ond-rater and none of his walking
matches ever benefited him great
ly. In the summer of 1886 he was
One day in July he heard some
of his friends talking about the lat
est casualty among the men who
had tried for fame and fortune by
diving from the Brooklyn bridge to
the river, 135 feet below. Seven of
then" had tried it and all of them
had been killed. ,
“Huh, I bet you I could do it and
not be killed,” boasted Brodie. “Bet
you $100 you can’t!” replied a
friend. "You’re on!” was Brodie’s
answer. But he was evidently none
too confident that he could make
good on his boast for he took out a
life insurance policy for $1,000 as a
protection for his wife, just in case
• • •
On July 23, 1886 Brodie jumped
ou the bridge and came up without
a scratch. Officials of the life in
surance company were furious be
cause he had risked $1,000 of their
money to win $100. They returned
hi premium and cancelled his poli
cy_which was foolish, for he lived
to a ripe old age!
His successful jump was widely
publicized. It won him an engage
ment in a melodrama called
“Blackmail” in which he had to
dive off a great height into a net—
a feat which, he declared, was even
more dangerous than his jump from
the bridge—and his performance in
this (at $100 a week) made “Bro
die, the Brooklyn Bridge-Jumper”
famous all over the country. His
acnievement encouraged imitators
and during the next few years no
less than 11 others tackled the na
tion’s most spectacular high dive.
Although the first seven had per
ished in their attempts, Brodie
seemed to have broken the Jinx,
for every one of the 11 survived.
By that time the novelty of such a
ieat had somewhat worn off. But
Brodie’s fame as the first to make
a successful jump \.as secure.
Moreover, he contributed another
picturesque phrase to the Ameri
c.a.i language, for “doing a Brodie"
is still a synonym for a spectacular
iump or plunge from a height.
Many Cash Crops
Found in Forests
Farm Woodlot Produces
Many Trees, Bushes,
Berries of Value.
By Robert B. Parmenter. Extension For.
ester. Massachusetts State College.
‘‘God in the hills,’' a favorite line
in by-gone melodramas, might well
apply to today’s farm woodlot. Be
sides saw timber and cordwood, the
farm woodlot offers many other cash
crops to the enterprising owner.
Many farmers are getting annual
incomes from Christmas trees.
They also sell "press brush,** or tip
ends of spruce and balsam which!
are clipped off and baled for manu
facturers of Christmas greens and
decorations. Some men have sold
fern-picking rights on their land,
the buyers using them as decora
There is always a market for tree
seeds. Acorns, walnuts, butternuts,
black walnuts, and cones from
spruce, pine, or balsam may be
gathered and sold in the fall. Bean
poles and pea brush are always in
demand, and poles and stakes for
proping up heavy branches of ap
ple trees often find a sale. Much
of this material can be gathered
while making thinnings in the wood
Fence posts and rails are always
useful on the farm, and taking them
from the woodlot means quite a
saving over a period of time.
Novelties made from gray or
white birch, twig baskets Ailed with
white pine sprays and cones, red
berries, and dried grasses also add
to the income. Decorative buttons
made from walnuts or butternuts
can generally be sold to novelty
Maple syrup and sap need oniy
be mentioned. Everyone knows the
value of a good sugar bush. Cattle
bedding made from trash wood by
means of a new machine, pine
cones treated chemically to produce
colored flames in the fireplace, and
white birch for fancy fireplace wood
are some of the other forest by
A little scouting around for m
market will often lead to new uses
for old forest products, and every
new outlet means more money from
the farm woodlot.
Spruce and Fir Among
Best Windbreak Trees
Norway spruce and Douglas fir
are the most satisfactory trees to use
as windbreak plantings, according
to J. E. Davis, extension forester,
i College of Agriculture, University
A good windbreak is easy to have,
its success depending upon location,
soil preparation, choice of trees,
spacing, protection and care.
A windbreak will be effetive on
the leeward for a distance eight
times its height. Since the trees
average 40 feet in height, it is
best not to have the buildings near
er than 50 feet nor farther than
320 feet from the trees. If closer
than 50 feet, snow drifts may form
on buildings, and dead-air pockets
may cause excessive heat in sum
The windbreak affords best pro
tection if built in the form of an
inverted “L” on the west and north
of the farmstead. Plowed prefer
ably in the fall, the land may be fit
ted in the spring. At least 4-year
old transplanted trees are recom
mended and even larger trees will
assure more success.
Silage for Young Cattle
Silage in large amounts can be
used to feed thin common-to-medi
um yearlings or older cattle which
are to be marketed this spring, ac
cording to E. T. Robbins, live stock
extension specialist. College of Ag
riculture, University of Illinois. Sil
age with or without dry roughage
is combined with three or four
pounds of cottonseed meal or soy
bean oil meal for each head each
day by some experienced finishers
of butcher cattle. Corn is added
during about the last two months,
and the cattle are sold when about
Wild life often suffers because of
the flying mower sickle. Nests are
destroyed and many birds and ani
mals are maimed.
* • •
Growing vegetables in their prop
er season results in a better quality
product. Each crop has its own
• • *
Of all the uses of electricity on
the farm, few save as much time
and labor and give as much satis
faction as pumping water.
• • *
Some dairymen still need addi
tional hay, green feed, or pasture.
At this late date, the only solu
tion is to sow a catch crop.
• • •
When Sudan grass, cane, or any
kind of grain sorghum is stunted
or blighted by drouth, or is
trampled, frosted or wilted, the
plants may contain enough prussic
acid to kill live stock.
• • •
The United States now has 876
dairy herd - improvement associa
tions. One of their main jobs is to
find out exactly what each sire is
able to do in building up the pro
duction of a dairy herd
of Lacy Crochet
A chance at rare beauty—genu
ine luxury—is yours in this lovely
crocheted lace cloth! Just a 8
inch medallion crocheted in string
forms it—you’ll have a quantity
of them together in no time. And
what lovely gifts you can make
of them—chair sets, scarfs, pil
lows, buffet sets are but a few
suggestions. They cost you next to
nothing and are something that
will last and be cherished in
definitely. Pattern 1345 contains
directions for making the medal
lion and joining it to make various
articles; illustrations of it and of
all stitches used; material re
Send 15 cents in stamps or coins
(coins preferred) for this pattern
to The Sewing Circle Needlecraft
Dept., 82 Eighth Ave., New York,
Write plainly pattern number,
your name and address.
My 'Tarotit* I
Y) • By
/^QCIVIG *rene Rich
/ Film Actr«ii
Divide a chicken, stew until ten
der, and remove to hot platter. To
the stock add one-half cupful of
rice and dumplings made as fol
Beat one egg, add one-half cup
ful of water, pinch of salt, and
sufficient flour to make a thin bat
ter; drop by spoonfuls into the
stock and cook about ten minutes.
If rice is uncooked it should be
boiled twenty minutes before
dumplings are added.
Foreign Words ^
and Phrases w
Novus homo. (L.) A new man;
an upstart; parvenu.
Summum bonum. (L.) The su
preme good; the chief good.
Tout-a-l’heure. (If.) Presently.
Pater noster. (L.) Our father;
the Lord’s prayer.
Suum cuique. (L.) To each one
Sic passim. (L.) Thus every
Piece de resistence. (F.) The
chief meat dish of a dinner.
Dr. Pierce’s Favorite Prescription Is a
tonic which has been helping women
of all ages for nearly 70 years. Adv.
Bear On With Joy
Set your shoulder joyously to
the world’s wheel.—Havelock Ellis.
Demand and Get Genuine
His own misdeeds often return
to the author of them.—Seneca.
"BUCK IEAF 40"
^ Keeps Dogs Away from
| Evergreens, Shrubs etc.
|®l93eUs* 1V4 Teaspoonful
THE CHEERFUL CHERUB
A Kdy comes to
cleen our house
Who bothers me e
5o scornfully she
Whet little *
Powered by Open ONI