Nebraska Newspapers

    PLEASANT MEMORIES.
•b, the summer days back yonder,
And the v hit© clouds in the blue, dear;
Ok, the days I used to wander
Off across the world with you, dear;
Wbere the grasses were a-growing
And wild flowers wore a-blowing
And the cattle were a-lowing.
And the world was made for two, dear.
Ok, the days we spent a-roaming
From the roseate break of day. dear,
Till the shadows of the gloaming
Led us down the homeward way, dear;
And the birds were homeward flying
And the wind was softly sighing
And the day was dying, dying;
Oh, the things w« used to say, dear.
Oh, the looks we gave each other
When no other one was by, dear;
Never si6ter. never brother.
Near enough to question why, dear;
And the summer sun was sinking
And night’s first wee stars were blinking;
The home-going and the drinking.
And your mother's homemade pie. dear.
—J. M. Lewis, in Houston Post.
THE
RENUNCIATION
By MARTHA HENDERSON GRAY
bjr Joseph B. Bowie*)
Rev. Philip War* looked thoughtful
ly around the sitting-room of the tiny
flat. It was very homelike; there
were evidences of a woman's fingers in
every little nook, and over all was
the soft rose light from the lamp.
She had come into his parish six
months before, and he had made his
first call upon her In his capacity of
minister. He had called many times
—very many times, but these were not
altogether in the capacity of minister.
This was noted by his devoted par
ish, and on this account the newcom
er was promptly disliked by several.
There was one girl who disliked her
particularly; a tall dark girl, with
beautiful hair, and the face of a saint.
Besides, the report had been spread
abroad, started by some one who
' knew her before she came to M
i hat she was separated from ner hus
band.
Kev. Ware thought of all this
as he waited.
It would be very simple, he rea
soned. He would not stay long, they
would have a pleasant, friendly chat
at first, and then as he was going, he
would tell her. She would under
stand; she was a woman of the world,
and would know what he meant with
out his telling it all.
Then feeling that he was not alene,
he looked up and saw her standing In
the doorway. She was looking at him
with a peculiar intense expression in
her eyes, and he caught the look be
fore she had time to veil it behind her
usual laughing manner.
At that look Rev. Philip Ware lost
his wonderful self-control. Springing
to bis feet, he strode determinedly to
the door and clasped the soft, woman
ly figure in his arms She quivered a
little and then was very still. Silently
he laid her head against his shoulder
and laid his lips upon hers. Some now
he had forgotten about the friendly
chat and the little message just before
he went.
Suddenly the sound of a bell in the
next flat brought them to conscious
ness. It was the woman who started
back.
"Let me go. Philip,” she said, quick
ly and firmly; “let me go.”
But he made no motion except to
clasp her more closely. There was a
dogged look in his eyes which she did
not like to see.
"Philip,” she pleaded, and there was
a ring almost of desperation in her
voice, “for God’s sake let me go.”
At that name—the name of the King
whose ambassador he was—=ome con
sciousness of what he was doing came
to Rev. Philip Ware, and for God's
sake—for His only—he let her go.
“Listen to me, Marian.” he cried.
“My love for you is stronger than any
thing else, and—you must love me,
you shall.”
Rev. Philip Ware’s voice rang out as
firmly and powerfully as was its wont
when he read. “Thou shalt not.” in the
Conmuandments. Perhaps the woman
thought of this, for she Bhivered
slightly.
You know that to me, he went on
more quietly, “death alone has the
power to separate those who have been
joined together; but since in your eyes
divorce is lawful, I will wait until
you are freed. So now there can be
nothing to keep us apart unless you
say that you do not love me; but you
do—is it not so. sweet?”
He beat nearer slowly, as If afraid
of frightening her, but as he touched
her hair she started back and. snatch
ing away her hands, moved quickly
to the other side of the room. Slowly
she turned and faced him, and when
she spoke her voice was calm and
natural.
"I think you must surely be forget
ting your=elf. I did not know that I
had ever given you cause to think
that I loved you—until, perhaps, just
now; but that was because—because
you surprised me so that I did not re
alize what you were saying and do
ing.”
Had she thought of it she would
have been amused at herself for falter
ing—she to whom this was an old
story.
But as she glanced at him th're wa=
something in his eyes that 'he could
not bear to see—those eyes from who'o
depths sh» would have kept away the
shadow of pain with her very life,
fihe only knew that she loved him bet
ter than anything in the heavens
above or the waters under the earth
—the phrase came to her unbidden—
and that she had given him his death
blow. Why could she not go to him
as he sat there, with his head buried
in his hanclB, and tell him this—tell
htm that she would do what he asked,
would go with him anywhere?
If she alone were to be considered,
she would do it; but be must be kept
safe; his honor must never be blem
ished. nor his career as a priest of God
be spoiled. So this woman, of whom
the world spoke so slightingly, nerved
herself to begin the struggle against
him and her other self.
"I have alwaya been called heart
leaa,” she said in aa unemotional tone,
“and I must be if I have made yon be
lieve that I love you, for I do not; 1
never have: I never can.”
The last was uttered with difficulty,
for he had lifted his eyes to her faee.
and she saw that they were haggard
and drawn, even In the soft lamp
light.
“Marian,” he mid, “must you take
all? I have given you my love, my
honor; must you take my faith, too?
For if you have deceived me there Is
no one whom I can ever trust Pity
me, Msrian! have mercy! tell me that
you did not deceive me, that you do
love me—only that dearest; only that
A man can live without love or hope;
lie can even die without them; but
he can neither live nor die without
faith."
Slowly she gathered her scattered
senses and looked up at him.
"You are right. Philip.” she said
softly. "I—I thought I was doing it
the best way, Lut I didn't know, fot
I’m—I'm not good, you know. It i»
not because I do not wish to—to dc
as you want me to do, but because 1
will not, and I will not because I love
you, dear.”
"Oh. Philip, my darling, my life. 1
love you so—more than anyone else
could ever love you. Yet you will
marry her—the girl who hates me so.
the girl who has always been good
How long would she love you If she
knew of this, do you think? She love?
you only because you are noble ancr
reverent and good, while I”—her voice
was harsh with pain—"ch. Philip. I
would love you in heaven or earth of
hell.”
The man could bear no more. He
caught her hands and pressed the
palms passionately to his lips. His
very touch seemed to soothe her. for
she drew them gently away, and when
she spoke her voice was low and
sweei.
“I have never loved anyone, you
know. dear, so perhaps that is what
makes it so hard. I married because
I had no home and he was good to me.
Since then I have not cared whether
men loved me or not. They were
rather amusing, and I was not good
enough for the w men to care for me.”
she added bitierly. “But when you
came into my life I knew then what
it would have been to have the love ol
a good man.” She paused and look d
at him longingly. “Philip ” she said,
pleadingly, yet with a note of shyness
In her tone, ‘ may I run my fingers
through your hair? Y'ou must be very,
very quiet and not touch me.”
The man looked at her with mute
eyes that reminded her somehow of
the eyes of a dog.
“I have always wanted to do this.”
she said. “You have such pretty hair,
so thick, and black, and wavy. I be
lieve that I love it best of all, but then
I love all of you best.”
She paused a moment and looked at
him critically.
“If you were Iras good, Philip—if
you had made no struggle against it—
perhaps I would have heard you, for
I love you so. Now I will go back to
him, the one who the law says is my
husband, and you will marry the beau
tlful girl who does not know what
wickedness means. I could never sat
isfy all of you. for I am not good
enough.” Her lip quivered a little.
"Philip.” she cried, “why did God for
get to put a soul in me when I was
"viOOD isiuHT.”
I made? Perhaps he did give me one,
; but there was no one to help it to
j grow. Do you think.’’ she asked sud
; denly, “that she would have loved you
I enough to give you up? ’
| But just thtn the clock chimed the
I hour. There were many strokes, and
each one seemed to beat upon their
consciousness the fact tuat now they
must part.
I “You must go, Philip," she said
gently. The man rose.
“This is the end?" he asked in a
hard, dry tone.
“This is the end." she repeated soft
j ly. and held out her hand.
| He drew a quick breath and looked
at her hand reproachfully.
“Not that way; surely, not that way
dear? May I not at least tell you
good-by as I want?"
She wa- er<=c an nstant. but looked
up into his face with a brave smile.
“No; it wouid do no good and only
make it harder for both of us. I know
a better way—the way your mothei
would tell you good-by. Lean down »
minute. Philip.”
She slipped her arms around tali
neck and rested her soft lips for an
insiant on his forehead.
"Good-by. my life." she whispered
so low that he scarcely heard it. “Keep
good always.”
He took her hands and reverently
lifted 'hem to his lips, kissing them in
th= pretty pink palms.
“Just cne thing, Phi’io” she said,
wis fu lv. ’To you think hat I have
harmed you mu h? I world ba e to
harm the only one I have ever 1 ved,
y ou kn ,w ' she added with a pathetic
little break in her voic°.
String man as he was. his was too
much r h.m. Tears choked -lis vote
so that he could not answer, but he
shook his head.
“Good-night.” she whisp red. and
watched him as he slowly descended
the stairs without ever turning tack
Then she mechanically went to her
own ar-artmen . The pretty rose-col
ored lamp went out and laft her In
merciful darkness.
“When you awake in the morning
and find the streets strewn with old
shoes.” remarked the observer of
events and things, “you are not abso
lutely certain whether there was a
wedding or a eat fight In the immedi
ate neighborhood the night before.”—
Yonkers Statesman.
THE NEW ENGLISH SMOKING CAR FOR WOMEN.
Interior view of the new coaches which have been put on the railroads
in England for the accommodation of women passengers who smoke, and
w'hich startling innovation has caused such a sensation in this country.
NEW WORLD MUMMIES
SOME IN MUSEUMS TAKEN FROM
CEEFF DW.i_Lx.EB RUINS.
Remains of Aztecs and Toltecs Un
earthed in Canyons of Arizona
—Traces of Anc.ent
N ohiEty.
Many persons who have an interest in
archaeology will be surprised to know
that not all the mummies to be seen iu
museums have Leeii taken lrom iaraway
tomos in Egypt or other eastern lands.
Vtell preserved mummies have occa
sionally been taken trom the ruius of
the cliff dwellers in the mountain
canyons in Arizona, and also in New
Mexico and southern California.
These mummies, states the Pittsburg
Dispatch, though poor specimens of the
mummifying art, are considered great
treasures by scientists because they
give the anthropologist a vague idea of
the strange people who had the earliest
civilization on the American continent.
The best of them are almost entirely ig
norant of who the Aztecs and Toltecs
were, how they looked and lived, and
why they have been so entirely oblit
erated from the fact of the earth.
The reason for this ignorance is found
in the fact that no satisfactory remains
of the dead Aztecs have been found.
These people were cremationists, and
they probably burned household effects
with the dead, leaving little or nothing
for the scientist to build a theory upon.
Frequently a party of explorers in the
valley of Arizona will come upon sealed
jars of burned bone dust. But the mum
my which was found by two gold mine
prospectors in a lonely canyon along
the Gila river, in the heart of the coun
try once occupied by the Aztecs and
Toltecs, has excited much attention.
The hollow in the rocks was about
seven feet deep and four feet high. It
was evidently made for the purpose of
burial of the body found there, for no
other mummy has ever been found with- ;
in inn miles of this lonely sepulcher.
At the rear of the cave the miners
found what appeared to be a chamber in
the solid granite wall. The mouth of the
chamber was sealed. When the cement
like substance was broken away and a
flat stone lifted it was found that a hu
man mummy was within. There was a
smell of rosin and balsam when the min
ers raised the little body which had
lain there for 500. perhaps 700 years. |
The body was evidently that of a child, '
the offspring of prehistoric royalty.
When the coverings had been removed it
was found that the body was that of a
girl about five years of age.
There was no doubt that she was tff
noble family and that her costly and
elaborate burial, instead of cremation,
had been for some extraordinary rea
son. Wrappings that filled five bushel
baskets were unwound from the re
mains. As the hands were removed
peanuts and mesquite beans rolled out. !
B^th were in as good state of preserva- :
tion as If they had been placed there a I
few months before. A child’s plaything,
a curious bone affair, was found placed
between the arms. The little shriveled
hands were clasped about bits of mes
quite wood, and a thick mass of raven
black hair, much finer than that of an
Indian, covered the head. The legs
were drawn up in the position of a child
creeping. The finger nails were perfect
and the teeth intact. The nose, ears and '
eyes were cone and the skin was broken
on the right knee and on one of the
wrists, exposing bones, sinews and dried
flesh.
So fine a mummy had probably never
been found before in the vallevs of Ari
zona. It has been photographed more
than 100 times. Many scientists and
archaeologists have trave'ed long dis
tances to see it. and say it is the most
interesting and instructive of all things
found in that part of the country in a
de—.de. It has been made a gift to the
Smithsonian institution.
Crown of Gold.
“The late Paul Lawrence Dunbar, !
the negro poet,” said an editor, “once j
addressed a Sunday school in New j
York. An odd incident happened, i
though, at its end, an incident that |
Dunbar laughed at as heartily as the
rest of us.
“Dunbar, toward the close of his re
marks, said:
“ ‘And. my little frie—ls, if you do
all these things some day you will
wear a gold crown. Yes. each of you
some day will wear a gold crown.'
“A little chap in the front row,
catching the poet’s friendly eye, piped:
“ ’My fader wears one now.’
“‘No!’ said the poet.
“•Yes. he does—on his toof,’ said
the little chap.”
MARINE NOISE MAKERS.
Tin Eoms, Mechanical Fog Horns
and Other Modern Con
trivances.
Tin horns, such as venders bring out
by the wagon load in the city’s streets
on election night, are stock articles of
saie the year around in the stores of
dealers in marine supplies, says the
New York Sun.
Thousands of tin horns of various
sizes are annually sold to fishermen,
oystermen and men using boats, in many
waters, in various pursuits, and such
horns are sold, as well, for boats used
for pleasure. A big horn of this kind
might be heard a mile.
For larger vessels, such as schooners
sailing in open water and not equipped
with power with which to blow whistles,
there are provided mechanical fog horns
that can be operated by hand, and that
can be heard three or four miles away.
With the multiplication everywhere
within recent years of pleasure craft
there have been introduced still other
sorts of noise makers. One of these is a
bellows horn, with the horn attached
to the top board of a trimly-finished
bellows of oblong shape, to the top
board of which also is attached a handle.
This bellows horn can be put down any
where and operated simply by pressure.
Though not as big as the mechanical fog
horn it can be heard for a considerable
distance.
A still smaller bellows noise maker
has in place of a horn an air whistle.
Another whistle contrivance has a
small upright metal cylinder in which
air is compressed by means of a handle
worked like a plunger. The whistle,
which may be one of a single tone, or a
chime, is attached to the outside of th”
cylinder.
Still another modem noise maker is
an air-blown whistle with a licht con
trivance attached. When the whistle
cord is pulled the light shows as the
whistle blows. Obviously the light at
tachment is for use at night to locate the
boat from which the whistle is blowing.
While these later sound producers, de
signed more especially for yachts and
launches and tenders and other pleas
ure craft, are rather more elaborate
they are used for precisely the same
purposes as the old tin horn, namely, tn
give warning in case of fog. for signal
ing in crowded wa+erwavs, for blowing
for landings or for bridges.
THE APARTMENT HOUSE.
Result of a Growing Inclination to
Evade the Cares of a
Household.
Considering the tremendous fashion
—for it really can be called nothin?
else—of the apartment house, it come
like a cold douche to hear its neigh
bors would curb its vaulting ambitions
if not seriously objecting to its neat
presence, says the Boston Herald. The
erection of apartment houses is the re
sult of a growing taste for immunitj
from household cares; not that the
demon worry can be excluded from
them, but the burden of living is miti
gated by degrees when one occupies a
teacup of a flat or suite in an apartment
house. It is painful, then, to hear that
owners of “whole houses” are resentin?
the invasion of their neighborhood bj
these popular human hives, for it bode.1
ill for the social community if antagon
ism is aroused by living according to out
means.
Everybody can’t live in a “colonial
mansion,” nor does he want to. He maj
prefer a chalet or a villa, and he maj
even like the fifth floor, with elevatoi
attachments, better than the imposing
establishment where servants nevei
cease from troubling. Therefore, it be
hooves the apartment house to keep up
its highest standard and make itself a;
choice and agreeable as possible to anj
neiehbor it may have to overshadow.
There are citizens who should retire
to desert islands for comfort and con
tentment. but as lone as the world’;
spaces continue to shrink, let us try tc
make the best of the apartment house’;
proximity. Who knows but you’ll haw
to live in it yourself one of these days?
First Woman Voter.
Beatrice Sacchi. a professor at Man
tua and the holder of a doctor's de
gree. Is the first woman to vote in
Italy. It seems that there is no law
there to prevent a woman from vot
ing. Miss Sacchi discovered this and
went to the polls and voted.
Plurality in the Future.
"Really,” said the callow youth, “1
am no longer a mere youth. “I’ve
got a little hair on my lip now."
"Tes,” replied Miss Peppry, "and
perhaps In a few weeks you may have
another one.”—Philadelphia Press.
YOUNG AMERICA TOO MUCH IN
THE FOREGROUND.
Children Are Wont to Blurt Out Tact
less Bits of Truth—Parents Are
Often Loath to Check These inop
portune Speeches—Well-Bred Chil
dren Must Be Taught Not to Inter
rupt Conversation — American
Children Too Much in the Fore
ground — Impertinent Questions
Should Never Be Allowed—Hotel
Bred Children Likely to Be Pre
cocious.
BY MARGARET E. SANGSTEK.
Everybody is familiar with the en
fant terrible. Du Maurier occasional
ly drew him for our amusement, and
he figures in many jests and anec
dotes.
i ms sometimes uncomlortable spe
cimen of childhood is not necessarily
disagreeable or spoiled. He simpiy at
his best state has a habit of appearing
on the scene when he is not wanted,
and of blurting out bits of truth that
more tactful elders know enough to
suppress. A child of this variety was
one day sent by bis mother to carry
an extremely beautiful pair of slip
pers to a gentleman living in the
neighborhood. She wrapped the gift
in tissue paper and placed it in a box,
with her card, addressing it carefully,
but she forgot to tell her little mes
senger to leave the box at the door,
and return directly. The boy had his
own friendliness toward the neighbor,
and waited to see how he would re
ceive the gift. "Tour mother is won
derfully good,” raid the gentleman.
"These slippers are just what I wanted
most. It was lovely in her to make
them for me."
“Oh," exclaimel the child, "mother
didn't make them for you; she made
them for my fatter, and as they did
not fit him she was so vexed she did
not know what to do. At last she
thought she would send them over
here, and she wouldn't need to bother
about buying you a Christmas gift."
This rather dulled the edge of pleas
ure in the case, and made the recipi
ent's thanks a tritie perfunctory.
"Ask your father,” said Bobby's
mother, “if he does not want to come
to the library and see dear Aunt Fan
ny, who is soon going away.” OK
rushed the child, .o be back in a min
ute. saying: "Father does not care
about coming in to see Aunt Fanny.
He says she is an old cat.” When a
little later, with an air of gentle bon
homie, Aunt Fannie’s nephew by mar
riage presented h'mself, the situation
was awkward and the old lady's man
ner a little strained.
At a table where several friends of
the family were gathered, a young lady
remarked to little Percy, eight years
old, "If you won': play games with
me I shall not come again.”
"I hope you never will,” frankly
answered the child. "I don’t like you,
and I shall be glad when you go
away."
There lives In a southern family a
tradition that soon after his famous
duel with Alexander Hamilton, Aaron
Burr was a guest beneath its hospita
ble roof. Duelling was not in those
days regarded in southern households ■
as necessarily disgraceful, If prelimi- ■
naries had been duly arranged, and
the affair of honor had been conducted
according to the code. Nevertheless,!
a good deal of comment of an un
k’ndly nature followed Burr after that;
fatal ending of his duel with the pop- !
ular Hamilton. The survivor was less |
fortunate than the victim. A child of
the house wandered into the guest’s 1
room and, seeiug there a silver-mot nt
ed pistol, possessed himself of it and.
entering the drawing rcom abruptly
inquired: "Is this the pistol. Col. Burr.
Wiui which you killed Gen. Hamil
ton ?”
One may imagine the confusion and
dismay of the older people at the in
nocent and inopportune temark.
m m m m m
Conscientious parents are often puz- I
zled what to do v.-ith the enfant terri
ble. He would lie less formidable 11
they remembered two time-worn and j
homely adages, uamely, Little pitch
ers have big ears and. Children should
be seen and not beard.
Well-bred children do not Interrupt
conversation, say disagreeable things,
or repeat what they should early learn
will wound the feelings of others.
American children are far too much in
the foreground. Their piace is not
where it should be in the happy pri
vacy of the horn? for foolish parents
trot them out and make them shtw
their paces until they are puffed up
with vanity and importance. The
pendulum in its swing tram the sever
ity of an earlier time, has gone too
far in an opposite direction. Children
are not happier lor having unlimited
liberty of speech. Unless a child b"
exceptionally stupid, and the enfant
terrible as a rule Is exceptionally
clever, he does not put himself In evi
dence when he ought to be silent.
The parent in whose eyes truth is to
be cultivated at any cost, ra her pr d»s
herself on the candor of her offspring,
when he tells a visitor tnat she has a
wart on her no.;e or asks her why she
wears such a queer bonnet. “Do your
teeth come out at night?” inquires one
of these little terrors, to the annoy
ance of a bashful man, who does not
wish attention called to his looks. And
the child gees unreproved because h's
mother is afraid that reproof may tend
to make him deceitful.
The fact is that virtues and good
<ualities are relative and that in train
ing children we must n t lay the em- 1
phasis on one point more Ftronilv 1
than on another. What we need to do I
Is to teach children the a”t of sp“ ik- j
ing only the truth at all times, while i
at the same time they must learn the j
lesson that all truu. jb always to
be spoken. Neither has anybody,
child or adult, the right to ask Imper
tinent questions o» make impertinent
comments. Truth is one item in home
training, a foun fatlon-stone in char
acter. Charity and courtesy are foun
dation-stones equally as indispensable
in preparation for the intercourse of
the family, of business, and of society,
a b • • •
One of the greatest misfortunes that
can occur in a child's life is the loss
at a sweet and simple home-life. When
children are bronaht un tn hotels and
boarding houses, are more or less no
ticed by strangers, and accustomed to;
publicity, or when they are very much
left to the cars of servants, they are.
likely to develop the traits that makel
childhood unlovely. Wo say of such
children that they know too much,
that too soon the exquisite veils ot
childish innocence have been torn,
away. When patents are forced to
bring their children up in the glare in
stead of In the shade. In hotels instead
of in quiet home';, extra pains should
be taken to keep them modest, shy,
and silent in company. Certainly they
should never be permitted to push
themselves and their affairs to the
front, while their parents and friends
await their convenience before going
on with their own proceedings.
Another specimen of tne enfant ter
rible seems to have inherited the
traits of the savage. This child Is fat
worse than the o'her, lor he is cruel
to cats and dogs end takes a barbar
ous delight in killing or maiming
squirrels and birds. This child is a
degenerate, and 's taking the initial
step on the road that leads downward
to the criminal court. A less hateful
but noi less unwelcome specimen Is
the child with a passion for hacking
and destroying whatever comes in his
path. He tears books, breaks furni
ture, uproots flowers and leaves the
mark of his little hatchet wherever he
goes. Happily, hir energy being only
misdirected, may be turned into safer
channels; for him manual training is
a boon, and he will probably emerge
from his present state of vandalism in
to useful and attractive boyhood later
on.
The cruel child must be taught in
the only way that will appeal to him;
If need be. he must suffer In his own
person that he may learn what suf
fering means. No parent is without
blame who does not take the enfant
terrible in hand and reduce him as
soon as possible to good order.
(Copvrleht. 1906. bv Joseph B. Bowles.)
ATTACKED THE HEART
Awful Neuralgia Gaae Cured to Stay
Cured by Dr. Williams’
Pink Pills.
Neuralgia iu any form if painful lint
Wlieu it attacks the heart it is frequently
fatal. Complicated with indigestion of
a form that affected the vital organ it
threatened serious consequences n. mi in
stance just reported. The case Is t hut «.f
Mi. F. L. Graves, of PleasantLit.,
who tells of his trouble and Cute a*
follows:
“ 1 traveled considerably, was exposed
to all kiudsof weather audwasinegmlnr
iu my sleeping and eating. Is pose
this was the cause of my sirl.i: s, ut
any rate, in May, 1905, I had j , n had
that I was conijielled t« quit v, ; d
take to my bed. I had s f ml i ' ,r
and took his medicine faithh.i y but
grew worse. I gave up hope of l tting
better and my neighbors thought 1 was
surely going' to die.
••X had smothering spills that it is
awful to reeall. My heart finite cd and
then seemed to cense beating. I could
not lie on my left sale at all. M' hand*
and feet swelled and so did n v face.
After reading about Dr. ‘Willie s' Pink
IJills in a newspajier I decided t > try
them and they suited my case exactly.
Before long I could see an itnj rto mi nt
and after taking a few boxes 1 \\..« en
tirely cured. 1 ara glad to r til.c this
statement and wish it could canx- every
sufferer to try Dr. Williams' Pink Pills.”
Dr.Willinins’Pink Pills do m r simply
deaden pain;they cure the trouble which
causes the pain. They are guaranti ed to
contain no narcotic, stimulant or ornate.
Those who take them run no defter of
forming any drug habit. T; • v act
directly on theblood and it is only tli rout h
the blood tliut any medicine cun reach
the nerves.
Dr.Williams' Pink Pills are sold by all
druggists or will be sent, jtosttiairi, on
receipt of price, 50 cents per box. six
boxes for f-X 50, by the Dr. Williams Med
icine Co., Schenectady, N.Y.
Nearly Even on Measles.
An English journal notes the curi
onfilv fivpn spy riistrihut nn nf muslp*
FASHIONABLE PRINCESS.
Slender Figure Must Make Use of the
Little Fancy Coats Designed for
Princess Gowns.
No slight figure should attempt a
princess with a yoke that covers the
entire top of the shoulders. If fehe
wears a princess skirt only, that is a
different matter, but a full frock should
have the fabric carried well into the
shoulder spams. This gives a chance
to fill the ugly hollows at the side of
the arms, which are far more fatal to
a good figure than a lack of bust,
though many women do not think so.
The women for whom the princess Is
still no severe should always wear a
loose j cket of laee or embroidery.
Thesi are the last smart things In
clothes. They can be made at home or
bought at the shops. Some are in pre
cious Irish weaves, or even duchess,
but you can also get them in the
cheaper makes.
The trouble is that one Is apt to get
them too patrhy when made at home.
Still If you have fine bits of lace or
embroidery, here is your chance to use
them. They are nothing more or less
than shortened pelerines—just what we
always have called zouaves.
The sleeves make them different
from a bolero. These are wide and
short, usually cut circular. They are
made In chiffon velvet, by the way
which seems a queer choice for sprine
unless one sees the remarkable amount
of velvet u«ed this season. Taffets
g^wns are heaped with it. But there Is
nothing new In clothes, really, for ‘his
was a dominant fashion many years
ago.
These .lttle jackets are worn over sc
many various kinds of frocks that one
would he a good investment for any
woman. Over all white and pastel col
ored lin'e’ie frorks they are charming,
and afford just that amount of warmth
needed on summer evenings.
PRETTY INITIAL LETTER.
Every Good Housewife Likes Her
Lireu Nicely Marked and We
Show an Attractive Model.
The initial K shown here is worked
in crcss-stitch with a scroll of long
-. i i i I I I III | I i
ATTRACTIVE LETTERING.
stitches running through. It is suit
able for marking house linen, and
should be worked with flax thread,
washing-silk, or ingrain cotton.
Southern Farm Values.
It is computed that farm proper
ties in the 11 states that once seced
ed from the union have risen in value
more than $1,000,000,000 in two
years. The average yield of these
lands since thi3 century began is
$200,000,000 a year greater than it was
in the preceding six years.
Sweet-Scented Smoke.
The “Egyptian” cigarette is made
of Turkish tobacco and paper manu
factured in France or Austria and is
rolled by Greeks.
REDUCED TO ZERO.
- 3
“Ah, Lammohen, now goes it since
you’re married?”
"Badiy, very badly! I'm not allowed
to emoke, and I can It drink wine or beer,
and I can't leave the house evenings.”
“I suppose then you’re sorry you mar,
ried?”
“O, no! I’m not allowed to be sorry
for anythin*!”—Fliegende Blaetter.
in twenty years at Aberdeen. There
were 20 287 males and 20,087 females.
Deafness Cannot Be Cured
hr !ocal application*, a« they cannot reach iLe al*>
portlo« of the ear Tnere Is only one wav to
cure deatueas. imd that Is by conailtutl nal remedies.
D«**fneM 1* caused by an inflamed condo u of the
ni'icoua lining of the Lu-imcTil an Tul*«. When this
tube Is Inflamed yon have a rumbling sound or im*
perfect hearing, ami when It 1* entirely clo-rd Deaf
ness l* the result, and uniesa the mflamman u can be
taken out and this tube restored to lu normal condi
ti u. hearing will be destroyed forever, nine ca-e*
on: of ten are caused by i ararrh. which fs nothing
but an Inflamed condition of the mucous surfaces.
We win give One Hundred Dollars for auv ca*e of
Den rness (caused by catarrh - that Cannot be cured
by Hall's Catarrh Cure. Send for circulars, free.
¥ .1 CHENEY <fc CO.. Toledo. O.
Fold by Druggist*. 7!*c
Take Hail’s Family Pill* for constipation
Never try to appear what you are
not.—Chicago American.
Important to Moth ora.
Examine carefully every bottle of CABTOHIA,
• safe and rare remedy for infanta and children,
and aee that It
Bear* the
Signature of
In Uae For Over 30 Ycare.
Xhc Kind Yon Have Always Bought.
Choolate in Spain.
The Spaniard's usual breakfast is a
cup (as small as an after-dinner cup)
of chocolate, a small roll, and a roll
shaped piece of sweet, white sub
stance like the outside of a meringue.
The nourishment is in the cup of
chocolate, which is so thick that it is
eaten instead of sipped from a spoon.
To the one cup goes an ounce of
sweetened and cinnamon flavored
chocolate inerted over the fire, with
just enough water to stir it smooth.
Village in Crater.
About 20.000 people live in the crat
er of an extinct volcano, thirty miles
from Kumamotu, Japan. They dwell
in this pit-like town surrounded by a
vertical wall 800 feet high. The in
habitants rarely make a journey into
the outer world, and practically they
form a little community all by them
selves..
Coffee Shows Coming Weather.
A naturalist is said to use his morn
ing cup of coffee as a baronuter. If
the sugar be dissolved undisturbed,
air bubbles rise and remain on the
surface. If they form a frothy mass,
he reckons on clear, fine weather. If
the froth col ects in a ring round the
edge of the cup he expects showers..
Cruelty to Animals.
For swinging a monek round his
head by its tail, George Brown, a
showman, was sentenced to twenty
eight days’ imprisonment in Liverpool.
A EUSY WOMAN
Can Do the Work of 3 or 4 If WellFed.
An energetic young woman living
just outside of New zork, writes:
"I am at present doing all the house
work of a dairy farm, caring for 2 chil
dren, a vegetable and flower garden, a
large number of fowls, besides manag
ing an extensive exchange business
through the mails and pursuing my
regular avocation as a writer tor sev
eral newspapers and magazines (de
signing fancy work for the latter) and
all the energy and ability to do this I
owe to Grape-Nuts food.
"It was not always so, and a year
ago when the shock of my nursing
>aby's death utterly prostrated me and
leranged my stomach and nerves so
hat 1 could not assimilate as much
as a mouthful of solid food, and was in
even worse condition mentally, he
would have been a rash prophet who
would have predicted that it ever
would do so.
“Prior to this great grief I had suf
fered for years with impaired diges
tion, insomnia, agonizing cramps in
the stomach, pain in the side, consti
pation, and other bowel derangements,
all these were familiar to my daily
life. Bledicines gave me no relief—
nothing did, until a few months ago,
at a friend's suggestion, I began to use
Grape-Nuts food, and subsequently
gave up coffee entirely and adopted
Postum Food Coffee at all my meals.
"To-day I am free from all the trou
bles I have enumerated. My digestion
is simply perfect, I assimilate my food
without the least distress, enjoy sweet,
restful sleep, and have a buoyant feel
ing of pleasure In my varied duties. In
fact, I am a new woman, entirely made
over, and I repeat, I owe It all to
Grape-Nuts and Postum Coffee."
Name given by Postum Co., Battle
Creek, Mich.
There's a reason. Read the little
hook, “The Road to WellvUie“ Inpk*.