Loup City Northwestern
J. W. BURLEIGH, Publisher.
LOUP CITY, - • NEBRASKA.
Old Times and New.
There Is said to be a decay of po
liteness among our children whose
fathers and mothers were brought
up to be very 'respectful and ceremo
nious in behavior. Perhaps nowa
days the young are too independent
and that reverence for old age went
out with the substituting of yes and
no for the affirmations to which sir
and ma’am were attached in the old
days. So, too, the adoption of the
words man and woman for lady and
gentleman may have made the young
sters and their sisters more forward
and presuming, and it may be that
the banishment of the curtsey has
made girls less modestly blushing and
sentimental than their predecessors
in the juvenile world. Still, the tak
ing off of the hat to women by boys
and men of all classes is more general
than it used to be, and we believe
that profanity is less prevalent than
it was once, for the vigorous fathers
of the republic were somewhat given
to using strong expressions, and even
the august Washihgton was accused
of uttering a big, big D under the
stress of powerful emotion. And it
must be acknowledged that there was
a good deal of hypocrisy in the fine
phrases that were current in the days
of hoop and gown, and that youth
was made familiar with hard drinking
earlier than it is to-day. There is less
leisure now than formerly, says Bos
ton Budget, and people do not have
time to cultivate the graces of their
forefathers, but at heart they are
quite as refined in feeling and less
cruel in punishment than were their
ornate ancestors, and the boy and girl
of the present only illustrate other
times and other manners and not de
generation.
Humor and Compassion.
Humor means far more than the
laughter of a fool or at one. It goes
often hand in hand with compassion.
It is always sane and clear-eyed, and
none the less so for its kindly smile
and thrill of sympathy as it contem
plates the follies, foibles and faults of
men. In the sympathy lies its kin
ship and acquaintance with pathos.
But it is the sanity, the clear-sighted
ness, of humor that keeps the pathos
from degenerating into pathos or any
thing that could be described as maud
lin. writes Bishop Chauncey B. Brews
ter in North American Review. Hu
mor is on the best of terms with sen
timent, so long as it is true and
healthy. When, however, feelings have
passed from their natural spontane
ousness into a secondary stake where
they have become self-conscious, are
called out for drill and marshaled for
parade, then sentiment has degenerat
ed into sentimentality. Genuine hu
mor is too loyal a friend of truth to
have anything to do with such artifi
ciality or to associate with sentimen
tality.
The gavel used by the presiding of
ficer of the United State senate has
no handle like that used by the speak
er of the house. It is an ivory con
trivance, modestly oramented, of cy
lindrical shape and about four inches
long. In wielding it the vice presi
dent has to hold the gavel in his hand
as if it were a small hammer without
a handle. How the custom originated
of providing the vice president with
a handleless gavel is not known,
though the oldest senate attache can
not remember when it was otherwise,
just as the oldest senate attache can
not remember when the gold snuff
box that occupies its ancient niche at
the right of the vice president's desk
was not dutifully filled eevry morning,
although no statesman now patronizes
that once popular box for a a gentle
sneeze.
Secretary of Agriculture Wilson is
righteously indignant at manufactur
ers who take advantage of the pure
food law to affirm that the federal
government guarantees their products.
.The government, of course, does noth
ing of the kind, as Secretary Wilson
.explains. The government exacts
from the manufacturer a statement
regarding the character of his prod
ucts. and the certificate granted is to
the effect that such statement has
been made, and also enables the gov
ernment to get after the manufacturer
if the statement proves untrue and
the goods turn out to be impure. To
twist such a certificate into a guaran
tee is a form of dishonesty which
merits the sharp rebuke the secretary
administers.
An Indian of the Rosebud tribe has
applied for divorce on the ground that
his squaw beat him and kicked him
out of the tepee. Evidently the Indian
women are not so far behind the en
lightening influences of civilization as
they have been painted.
A woman's life was saved in a
Pennsylvania shooting affair because
the silk dress she had on deflected
the bullets. Here is another argument
for including these luxuries among
femininity's necessities.
Russia claims to have evacuated
Manchuria at last. If that job had
been done about three years and a
half ago the czar and his empire
might have been spared the sorry
task of demonstrating Japanese mili
tary and naval prowess tor the edifi
cation of an astonished world.
The Philadelphia Ledger reports
that some lunatice have been rsetored
to reason by a cyclone In the south,
Now you know what a real brainstorm
is.
VJiV'J
CHAPTER IV.
The Coward.
As she left me I again caught the
look of wonder, a resentful wonder,
a curiosity that was even harsh and
stern.
I seated myself opposite the woman
I had unconsciously wronged. For the
first time she looked at me, and I saw
with relief that neither pain nor an
guish lurked in her clear eyes. There
was no outraged love nor tenderness.
Nor was there pity for herself or for
me But even so, it seemed to me
pathetic that a woman should be so
strong.
“I wish to hear everything. Begin,
please, with your first meeting with
Mr. Willoughby. Tell me all—to the
last moment."
“1 shall not spare either yourself or
myself,” I promised
“Did you know Mr. Willoughby in
timately? Were you at Oxford with
him? I think I do not remember his
speaking of you.”
She spoke slowly, with a certain
aloofness. A desire to be just strug
gled with a manifest dislike—a dislike
that was evidently not lessened be
cause of my studied calm. Perhaps
she thought a fervent expression of
uui iuauu\;i'
pcimcuce uiuic miiug.
ively I knew that an hysterical repent
ance would increase her contempt for
me. I preferred her hatred to that.
And so I told my story absolutely with
out feeling.
“I met him for the first time the
night befyre his death.”
“Indeed!” Her voice trembled with
anger. She was indignant that he
should have discussed his love with an
utter stranger.
“It was not until we had both given
up hope that he mentioned you, Miss
Brett,” I said with some sternness.
“But surely his death was the result
of a quite unexpected accident? The
newspapers gave one that impression,”
she exclaimed suspiciously. The words
and the look accused me of falsehood.
"The accident came only after we
were both utterly exhausted by the
sufferings of a night spent on the
mountain paths.”
“And were the newspapers ccmrect
in saying that you were not an expe
rienced mountain climber? And did
Mr. Willoughby know that?”
“Yes, I am simply a tourist. This is
the first time I have been in Europe.
I came to Switzerland as thousands of
others come—to see the mountains
from an hotel piazza or a railway train.
To me, as to most tourists, the Alps
were simply a gigantic panorama to
be viewed compiaisantly, as one looks
at Niagara Falls. To climb them
never occurred to me until I met Mr.
Willoughby.
“I was making the usual circular
tour, Interlaken. Seheidegg, Lauter
brunnen, Gi-indelwald. Mr. Willoughby
happened to sit next to me at the table
d’hote at the Bear hotel. He was an
athlete; Switzerland to him was sim
ply an immense playground; he spoke
of the trophies he had won at Queen's
fields in the same breath as liis ex
ploits in scaling a mountain top. At
first I listened to him with indiffer
ence; his enthusiasm amused me—
nothing more. I had supposed that
people climbed mountains simply for
the view; because on the summit one
could see a little farther than if one
were merely on the mountain-side.
But as he talked I began to under
stand. It was a. game—a conflict—a
battle if you wish—in which one pitted
one’s strength and wit in a hand-to
hand fight with nature.
erraauany ms emnusiasm arousea
mino. I was wearied of sight-seeing;
the horde of tourists disgusted me.
Before we had finished our cigars I
longed to pluck my first edelweiss; to
play this new game myself. I hinted
vaguely at dangers, but my companion i
laughed at them. I was presumptuous j
enough to think that where he led I
might follow.”
“The usual mistake of the tourist, I
believe,” commented Miss Brett, cold
ly. “And you begged that you might
go with him on liis next climb?”
“At least I was willing enough to do
so when he suggested that. He was
planning to make the Stralegg Pass. I
confess that the word ‘pass’ did not
sound especially formidable, for he de
clared that guides were not at all
necessary. So I agreed to make the
ascent with him. I did not realize that
mountain climbing, more than any
other sport, required arduous training.
“The next morning at 11 o’clock we
started from Grindelwald. We were
provided with the customary parapher
nalia, of the Alpine climber; but our
climb to the Schwantegg Club Hut, at
the Upper Ice-fall, where we were to
spend the night, might have been
made; with walking sticks instead of
alpenstocks. It was for the most part
a simple path over glassy slopes on
the eastern side of the Lower Grindel
wald Glacier—a bypath winding along
the cliffs.
“We were aroused the next morning
before it was light, and I was rather
relieved when two guides, who were
waiting at the hut for a party expected
that day, shook their heads at the
weather, and warned us that It would
not be safe to attempt the pass alone.
My companion laughed at their fears.
The heavens were quite clear; the
stars shone faintly; the moon was
waning; there was no hint of wind or
storm. ■ He assured me that the pro
tests of the guides was a clumsy at
tempt to frighten us into engaging
their services. _ They were waiting for
us; it was the usual trick. I accepted
his explanation as plausible enough. I
was unwilling to disappoint him now*
that we had started; but for the first
time I felt some misgiving.
“I shall not wehry- you with the de
scription of dur climb. The ascent was
steep and trying in places, over ice
and rock. In about four hours we
reached the Zasenberg Chalets and
the Central Ice-fall. A stiff scramble
of an hour brought us to the frozen
snow of a plateau. Here our path
seemed to me less clear, but my com
panion advanced with confidence. I
felt the altitude now distressingly; I
had qualms of mountain sickness.
Still I struggled after him, until we
came to the base of a precipitous wall
of ice. We had passed over the last
of the glaciers; we had reached the
summit.
“I supposed now that the worst was
over. But the descent was by far the
most difficult and dangerous part of
our day’s work. Every step had to be
taken with extreme care. We were
roped, of course; and I annoyed Mr.
Willoughby by being compelled to halt
repeatedly. The fact is, I was fright
fully exhausted, though I struggled
after him as doggedly as I could.
“At last the descent Decame less
hazardous. I believe that we should
have arrived at Grimsel safely had we
continued our way in a direct line
and with the care that had character
ized our first movements. But my
companion attempted more and more
difficult feats of climbing. As a rule I
did not follow him. But presently a
mountain ledge obstructed our path.
Two courses were open to us: we could
make a long but safe detour around it,
or we could scale it. My companion
decided upon the latter course. I
r 1 " ■ - . -
“I Wish to Hear Everything.”
again lasieneu me rope auout iny
waist and followed him.”
"Do you wish me to infer that the
boyish confidence of Mr. Willoughby
led to the tragedy?” Helena asked in
a passionless voice.
“I wish you to infer nothing.”
“But you place the blame, at least
tacitly, on one who is dead and cannot
defend himself,” she insisted angrily.
"1 am sorry you should think so. I
am trying to give you the facts quite
simply—the absolute truth.”
"1 do not wish to wrong you,” she
said in a low voice. "I wish to be just
to you, Mr. Haddon.”
“Just when I realized that we were
in danger i hardly know. Or perhaps
I should be more honest if I said that
I cannot tell just when I began to feel
afraid. We had climbed cautiously
and slowly around the ledge. Mr. Wil
loughby was in the lead. Suddenly, as
we rounded this shoulder, a flake of
snow touched my cheek.
“Clinging to the face of the rock, I
looked down. The ice slopes were
turning yellow in the cold early even
ing light. But far below they were
hidden by mists, which even as we
looked seemed to gather volume and!
to roll onward and upward, threaten
ing to engulf us. The sky was laden.
As we made the ledge a gust of wind
almost swept us from our foothold.
The snow fell more thickly; it came, it
seemed, from every quarter in an in
stant.
"We had made the ledge in safety,
but even as we looked about us the
mist enveloped us. It was Impossible
to see more than a few yards ahead.
Still we struggled on slowly and me
chanically. Rocks, which ifi ordinary
circumstances would have seemed
quite easy, suddenly appalled us; feu
we were unable to see where to put
hand or foot.
“Even to my inexperienced eyes we
were in a terrible predicament. Wil
loughby, however, was cheerful and
confident. If he had misgivings he
kept them to himself. I followed him
blindly.
“Suddenly to our complete dismay
the descent, was cut off b^ a precipice,
the rocks on either aide falling almost
sheer to the glacier beneath. Further
i ne sun rose at last. Hut 1 was ;
terribly exhausted with the cold, the [
night’s vigil, and fatigue. Three times ■
we attempted to resume our descent, i
and three times my exhaustion para- j
lyzed every effort. I wish to make no
excuses, and yet—” \
I paused. I looked at her wistfully.
I saw no pity or sympathy in her eyes.
She came from a race of soldiers.
They, too, had suffered and died, and
their honor had been stainless. Why
should she make any allowance for my
suffering and weakness? When all is
said, weakness to her meant cow
ardice. She forgot, as the world had
forgotten, that it is not so difficult to
be brave when the danger is a famil
iar one. She looked at me quite un
moved. •
“The rocks,” I continued, “were cov
ered with snow and were ice-glazed.
Willoughby was anxious now. And
yet it was impossible to linger; no
one would dream of looking for us on
Jesters Have Their Troubles
Punishments for Failure to Amuse
Their Royal Masters.
The man who has recovered $5,000
reward for his services as a jester
may thank bis stars that he did not
have to joke for a livelihood in ear
lier days at the courts of greater
potentates.
Ivan the Terrible, Peter the Great,
and the Emperor Paul, for example,
had rough ways with their fools. A
dagger thrust would follow a poor
joke and banishment any sign of de
clining wit. Once when Fougere, the
jester of Czar Paul, offended his royal
master he was permitted to depart in
peace. In the middle of the night,
however, he was aroused, and ordered
to get up and prepare for immediate
banishment to Siberia. He was bun
I
!
died into a dark van and driven away
on his long journey.
Day after day, week after week it
lasted. Upon arrival he stepped out
into the presence of—the czar. All
the time he had been driven, not to
ward Liberia, but round and round In
St. Petersburg:
Qualities That Win Success.
Nothing will give permanent suc
cess in an enterprise of life, except
native capacity cultivated by honest
and persevering effort. Genius is
often but the capacity for receiving
and improving by discipline.—G. i
Eliot.
Attention, Geniuses.
The world never forgives a genius
for dressing normally and* acting rea
sonably.
attempt was useless that night. Even
Willoughby acknowledged that. There,
was nothing for It but to bivouac for
the night, and trust for better luck on
the morrow.
“It is impossible for me to describe
for you the sufferings of that terrible
night. We gathered such stones as
we could find on the narrow mountain
ledge, and placed them as a protection
against the biting wind. We consumed
the last morsel of food. We had al
ready drunk our tea. We huddled
close to each other for warmth. We
shivered, not for moments, but for 15
minutes at a time. Every now and
then we chafed each other's hands to
prevent their being frost-bitten. But
the greatest suffering was caused by
our efforts to fight off the deadly numb
ness and drowsiness.”
“Did you give up all hope then?”
asked Helena, shuddering.
“I am sure that Willoughby did not.
His courage and heroism were unfail
ing. Until the cold had exhausted us
we attempted to wile away the hours
by relating to each other incidents of
our past life. It was natural that our
talk should become increasingly inti
mate. Death stared us in the face. At
such an hour as that one forgets that
one is speaking to a stranger. It was
then that Mr. Willoughby told me of
you.”
“I understand,” said Helena in a
voice that was strangely gentle. For
the first time there were tears in her
eyes.
“At half past two the snow ceased
falling. The sky cleared. The stars
shone out one by one in a blackened
sky. It was now, I think, for the first
time I felt our utter helplessness. The
terror of the mountains, the awful
loneliness, the stillness, the sense of
utter isolation—all overwhelmed me.
The ghostly whiteness of the mountain
peaks shone out against the dark sky.
The moon shed an unearthly radiance
over all. Shadowy and unreal, a phan
tom host, mountain after mountain
stretched as far as one could see. And
our helplessness was made the more
pitiable because at our feet we could
see the lights of the village.
this side of the mountain. So that
presently when the sun rose higher
and we were partially warm, I stum
bled painfully and slowly after my
companion.
“for a time I followed him mechan
ically in perfect silence. Suddenly he
came to a pause. He told me very
quietly that we were lost. He point
ed as a proof of that to the overhang
ing ledge around which we had
climbed the evening before. I am
nearly at the end of my story, Miss
Brett.”
Again she shuddered, and we both
looked at the little beacon light flick
ering very faintly now. About us the
people laughed and talked: the or
chestra was playing a Strauss waltz.
“Do not spare me, please,” whis
pered Helena.
“To retrace our steps was impossi
ble. Just around the mountain-side
we knew that we should find ourselves
in comparative safety. But to climb
down the overhanging precipice had
been appallingly difficult tie day be
fore. Now. exhausted in mind and
body, the rocks slippery with snow
and ice, it seemed impossible—for me,
at least. And yet it is I who am alive
to tell you how desperate that chance
was.
“Generous to the last, he insisted
that I go first. The rope was fastened
about my waist; 1 climbed down the
overhanging cliff, supported by the
rope held by my companion above.
“I reached the ledge. I was safe.
But I had put forth the last of my
strength. I could only stand there,
fighting for my breath. Almost imme
diately Willoughby flung down the
rope and warned me that he
was coming, and that I should
be ready to give him what as
sistance I could. I tried to speak
—to implore him to delay the
descent for a few moments; my voice
seemed a mere whisper. Probably he
did not hear me. Or he dared not de
lay lest he should lose his own nerve;
for he must have known that the
chances were wholly against him.
"Not even for you can I linger over
the details of these last awful mo
ments. He had almost accomplished
the impossible. He was just above
me. 1 could have reached up and
clasped his body. And then what I
had feared, what I had known would
happen, did happen. His feet
slipped. He was hanging by his arms.
He called to me in a strong and
steady voice to come to his aid. I
did not. At least, until it was too
late. He hung there one frightful in
stant, and then—”
Helena clasped her hands con
vulsively. "And so the end came,”
she murmured. "And. he died with
out one word?”
I hesitated.
“It is my right to know." She
looked at me with burning eyes.
“Yes, he spoke one word—one—”
“And that was—?”
“‘Coward!’” I whispered.
CHAPTER V.
A Life for a Life.
A long silence fell between us. I
looked where the little beacon light
had flickered feebly a few moments
before. It had gone out. With an ef
fort, I sought the face of the girl who
sat opposite me.
She had judged. I knew that. She
looked at me as if I were a being
apart, of another world. By my own
confession I had shut myself out of
her world. The man who had loved
her loyally had died as the strong peo
ple of her. race had died. That proud
fact supported her. For her I existed
no longer. She gathered her skirts
about her. She inclined her head
slightly. She was going out of my
life. She had uttered no spoken re
proach. But her look, her every
movement, echoed the verdict of the
man who was dead.
I pushed back my chair. Thank
Heaven, the ordeal was over; that
was my first thought. Then I hesi
tated. Suddenly I longed to make this
woman understand.
When others had pointed the finger
of scorn l had refused to be crushed,
because I believed their censure un
just. I had grown almost indifferent
as to whether people despised me or
not. But this was the first woman to
whom I had spoken since the tragedy.
Had she loved Willoughby, it would
have been hopeless to expect any sym
pathy from her. She would have felt
toward me a lifelong hatred
But she did not love Willoughby. It
was merely a sense of duty that had
urged her to seek from me my story.
Perhaps she wished to tell it to his
bereaved parents. It was to be a sort
of reparation owed to the memory of
the man who had loved her.
She had judged me without emo
tion, without passion. She had spoken
no words of reproach or anger. She
was leaving me in silence. But I
knew that the silence of this woman
would haunt me as no spoken word of
bitterness ever could. It was a si
lence that would irritate and madden
with the coming years. It was hope
less to make her understand, to ex
pect one word of sympathy. But at
least she should speak, though it were
In anger. I leaned toward her: there
was a certain pride in my humility.
{TO EE CONTINUED.)
WHAT WAS WRONG
Hla First Experience with a
Motor Car.
By G. F. MORGAN.
There was no doubt about it, tliey
were stuck. He varied the mixture,
adjusted the spark, shifted and rear
ranged everything in sight, and
cranked with an energy born of de
spair. No use. He thought of every
thing he had been told by the man
who gave him lessons. He seemed
to remember dimly something about
a part under the seat which might
need adjustment. He took out both
seats and adjusted every knob and
screw which was movable. Still no re
sults. He washed now he had not felt
so confident about being able to run
the auto without the assistance, of the
man, and he also deVoutly wished
he had not brought Her with him on
this first trial trip.
He crawled cautiously under the
machine and looked around. He had
forgotten what a good many of the
things there were for. However, noth
ing was lying out of place that he
could see. He hesitated between ly
ing and making a clean breast of it.
Finally he decided on the latter.
He emerged from beneath the car
and stood up.
“I’m awfully sorry,” he explained,
regretfully, "but something seems to
have gone wrong.”
"So it appears,” she remarked. Her
tone lacked enthusiasm. The day was
somewhat cold, and they had been
there about an hour. Besides, he had
a black smear across his nose, and
he was moist and unplea*ant. A man
does not appear at his best, when he
crawls out from beneath a balky car.
"It's evident,” he went on, “that
they hadn’t put the machine in prop
er shape when I took it out. That’s
the way with these fellows, you know.
They let you take a car when it’s all
out of whack, and then the first thing
you know, it breaks down with you.”
He was warming to the subject.
No doubt this talk was shifting the
blame most successfully.
“You bet I’ll give it to those fellows
when I see them,” he continued.
"There ought to be some law to pre
vent. their sending out machines when
they’re not in order. This sort of
thing is a disgrace to a decent ga
rage. The Automobile club ought to
take it up.” -
She murmured assent, but it was
evident she-- was occupied, not so
much with the theory, as with the
condition Which confronted them.
He looked over all f'he available
parts again, and then cranked
till he was black in the face. Noth
ing doing.
"I suppose there’s nothing else for
it,” he observed, finally, "I shall have
to go and 'phone somewhere. You
bet I’ll make St hot for them, too.
Those fellows ought to be arrested.
I guess I'd better walk back to that
house we passed, and 'phone the ga
rage to send a man to fix the thing.
Will you come, or do you prefer to
stay in the car?”
She preferred the car, and he start
ed off alone.
He was back in an hour and twenty
minutes, and with him an expert
from the garage, who had come out
with his repair kit in a runabout.
“There, there’s your machine,” he
observed, in virtuous indignation.
"Stuck, you see. Just pulled up to get
my hat, and the blame thing absolute
ly refuses to start. I don’t know
what's the trouble. If the machine
had b^en sent out in proper order it
should never have happened.”
The expert made a hasty examina
tion. Then he grinned broadly.
“I guess t here ain't much the mat
ter,” he observed.
"There isn’t! Well, I'd like to
know what you call it. I’ve worked
on her. for about two hours, and she
don't budge an inch. What’s wrong?”
The expert grinned still more
broadiy.
“She’ll run all right if you treat
her right,” he explained. “Why don't
you take off the brakes?”
Capital “Society” Busy.
Washington society people are
plunged into a mad struggle- for pleas
ure. Even Sundays are overworked.
Admiral Dewey gives things at the
Country club on Sundays—the best in
days and everything else is good
enough for the admiral—and the John
M. McLeans have turned on their
brilliant Sunday luncheons to society
in edition de luxe, at their fascinating
“Friendship.” But even the unex
purgated and the great unwashed are
welcome every day to the splendid
grounds of “Friendship.” Unless you
are an automobile or a dog,, against
which there is special discrimination,
the McLeans place no restrictions
upon the public enjoyment of their
vast acres, the most beautiful sweep
of land near Washington, baronial in
its extent. The quaint old house it
self, once a monastery, is surrounded
by a “monk's walk,” outlined in box
bushes. There is a long pergola,
wistaria laden, an ancient fountain
and other poetic accessories that in
spire.
The Fox as a Decoy.
Some 30 years ago a tame fc-x was
kept at the Berkeley Castle duck de
coy in Gloucestershire. England. This
animal understood the whole 5,rt of
decoying wild fowl, and, showing him
self to the duck, widgeon, and teal
on the decoy lake, used, by >aving
his tail and moving gently to and fro,
to attract the attention of the curious
fowl. The birds were fascinated by
the l'ox's motions, and. following him
up the decoy pipe, fell easy t'ictims
to the concealed fowler. It is a well
known tact that the old decoy fewlers
invatibaly secured, if they were able,
a red dog, as near in color to a fox
as possible, for the difficult part of
decoying duck from the pool to the
netted pipe.
Exasperating in the Extreme.
“Oh! how my wife does aggravate
me!"
“You surprise me! She seems so
mild always—”
“That’s just it—her awful mildness.
Whenever we have an argument and
I’m in the right she always sighs and
says, ’Oh, very weH, dear, have it your j
own way.’ ’’—Philadelphia Press. J
The Small Buyer of Paint
■who takes care that the Dutch
Boy trade mark, shown below,
appears on every keg of white
lead he buys, is perfectly pro
tected; as perfectly as if he
were a railroad official buying
hundreds of tons, and with a
corps of chemists at his back
to see that no adulterant is
palmed off on him.
Pure White Lead and Pure
Linseed Oil are absolutely nec
essary to good
painting.
SEND FOR
BOOK
“A Talk on Paint."
gives valuable infor
mation on the paint
subject. 8ent free All lead packed in
upon request. 1907 bran this mark
NATIONAL LEAD COMPANY
in whichever of the follow
inn cities is nearest you:
New York. Boston. Buffalo. Cleveland.
Cincinnati, Chicago, St. Loam, Phila
delphia (John T. Lewis & Bros. Co.», Pitts
burgh (National Lead & Oil Go.)
A Sane Analysis.
He—Won't you forgive me for kiss
ing you?
She—No. If I did you'd kiss me
again.
He—I promise I won't.
She—Then what’s the good?
Instead of experimenting with drug* and
strong cathartics—'which are clearly harm
ful—take Nature's mild laxative, Garfield
Tea! It is made wholly of Herbs. For
constipation. liver and kidney derange
ments. sick-headitclle, biliousness and in
digestion.
Relief Works in China.
Relief work to employ 0,000 men
have been established in the Chinese
famine centers. The Englisb-Ameri
can relief fund amounts to $250,000.
Don’t Sneeze Your Head Off.
Krause’s Cold Capsules will cure you al
most instantly. At all Druggists, 25c.
Anyway, the rolling stone doesn’t
get into the mossback class.
Smokers appreciate the quality value of
Lewis’ Single Binder cigar. Your dealer
or Lewis’ Factory, Peoria, 111.
Fraud is the recourse of weakness
and cunning.—Gibbon.
Mr*. Winslow’s Soothing Syrup.
For children teething, soften* the gums, reduce* In
flammation, alley* pain, cares wind colic. IBc a bottle.
The velocipede was invented by
Drais in 1817.
WINCHESTER
“NEW RIVAL”
LOADED BLACK POWDER
Shotgun Shells
The important points
in a loaded shell are
reliability, uniformity of
loading, evenness of pat
tern, hard shooting qual
ities and strength to
withstand reloading. All
these virtues are found
in Winchester “New
Rival” loaded black
powder shells. Ask for
them the next time.
THEY HELP MAKE
BIG BAGS
SICK HEADACHE
Positively cared by
these LittUe Pills.
They also relieve Dis
tress from Dyspepsia, In
digestion and Too Hearty
Eating; A perfect retn
edyfor Dizziness, Nausea,
Diwslness, Bad Taste
la the Mouth. Coated
Tongue, Pain In the Side,
TORPID UV1IE. They
regulate the Bowels Purely Vegetable.
SMALL PILL SMALL DOSE, SMALL PRICE.
Genuine Must Bear
Fac-Simi!e Signature
REFUSE SUBSTITUTES*
CARTERS
•iTTlE
fliVER
£pillS.