Image provided by: University of Nebraska-Lincoln Libraries, Lincoln, NE
About The Loup City northwestern. (Loup City, Neb.) 189?-1917 | View Entire Issue (May 28, 1908)
Loup City Northwestern j. W. BURLEIGH, Publisher. LOUP CITY, * - NEBRASKA Gun That Makes No Noise. There is surely a terrible responsi bility resting to-day upon the shoul ders' of Hiram Percy Maxim, the son of the inventor of the machine gun. So writes P. Harvey Middleton in the Technical World Magazine. For he has patented a gun which will kill a man with no more noise than the hissing of a snake. Armed with this silent weapon a murderer could shoot down his victim without attracting the least attention, and only on examina tion would the cause of death be re vealed. On the other hand a single policeman using the noiseless gun could disable every member of a gang of burglars before they recov ered from their surprise. It is an in vention which may lead to the re equipment of the armed forces ft the world, and the revolutionizing of mod ern methods of warfare—w*ill per haps even hasten the happy day when there will be no war, for the very best safeguard against war is the invention of weapons of such terrible power that armies will never dare to stand against each other. “War,” said Bis marck. "is the greatest enemy of war, and will eventually put war out of existence." In the next great war skirmishers may use noiseless rifles, enabling them to creep along an en emy's front and shoot down unsus pecting pickets one after another, and not until their dead bodies were dis covered would the alarm be given. The extended front of a whole army, concealed in the underbrush or behind rocks, could work terrible havoc among the opposing forces before its position could be located. To the big game hunter the silent firearm will open up new horizons. Perch Fishing. And the other fishing days when you got up before dawn and stole down stairs to the dim kitchen. A drink of ntilk. a doughnut, and a tri angle of pie, then you stole out quietly to the barn and got the spading-fork. Then the search, armed with fork and tomato-can, under the broad leaves of the rhubarb bed. hack of the henhouse and down by the cow barn, until you had enough worms for the day's sport. Then, of course, you left the fork sticking in the ground—you never would learn to put things away—and started off. Through the garden and orchard, stopping long enough for a handful of currants and a pocketful of sopsyvines—over ihe pasture bars, eating a handful of huckleberries or low-bush blackberries here and there. Into the wood road—very dark and still in the dawn—where you stepped along very quietly so as not to disturb the bears. You knew perfectly well there were no boars, writes a contrib utor of the Atlantic, but you rather enjoyed the creepy sensation. Then out through the deep wet meadow grass to the river, whe*<? the sun was nowr beginning to burn away the wisps of mist, and the red-winged blackbirds were making a tremendous fuss over their housekeeping. You reached the river bank at the pout hole, or the big rock, or the old willow (of course, you know’ the exact place), and then you started fishing. State universities, at the request of their professors, are to benefit by the Carnegie pension fund. Ten million dollars were originally given as an endowment for pensions for profes sors in unseetarian colleges. Colleges supported by churches and by the states were omitted, on the ground that if pensions were to be provided, they might well come from those who maintain the institutions. Many col leges, nominally denominational, have Riven evidence that they are unsec tarian, and have been admitted to the benefits of the fund, and the National Association of State Universities pe titioned for the enjoyment of the pen sion provisions. It set forth four reasons, the chief of which were that in the absence of pension allowances the state universities would find it difficult to compete with the other colleges for first-class professors, and that the prospect of pensions paid by the states was remote, as it would Involve the acceptance of the policy of pensioning state officers. Mr. Car negie has admitted the force of their argument by adding $5,000,000 to the original fund, so that the state insti tutions may benefit. But prc.'essors in such universities will not be pen sioned unless the state legislature and the governor join in the application that they be admitted to the founda tion. "Always ready for sea duty, but afraid of social festivities,’’ is the way the wife of Admiral Evans recently characterized her distinguished hus band. Medical science would probably agree that ihe admiral has discovered which is the greater danger of the two. The Tacoma Ledger has discovered that "the art of letter writing has suf fered with the introduction of picture post cards," but it isu’t noticeable yet in the divorce courts. Sioux Falls didn't go Prohibition. The South Dakota village cannot for get the people from whom it gets its advertising. It knows they must have something to quiet their nerves. Chicago's policemen will hereafter wear white gloves. Up to this time they have handled everything without gloves, including soap. It is hard even for a "Merry Widow" hat to be really merry when caught in a rainstorm. tij? IGffe fur fe By COL: HENRY Ur TURNER* R€££€, onct beside a snsmer sea, splendor queened It royalty o>&pB« BOW her greatness ts decay, her mighty men but mouldering day; Yet down o'er many a century Still glory gilds Cbermopyte. lOme, once o'er all the trembling world, J^Jler flaunting ensigns wide unfurled; 5J%*Bui now that city, seven-billed, Sli*w dim memories Is niledi Yet, thcmgb her heroes are hat shades, Still glory gilds their aacfent blades. fi€ great King Arthur's table round nee righted wrongs, wherever found; more rests lance in mailed grip; the great Pendragonshlp; ists are closed at Caaelot. yet glory names round Canncelot. jOS€, once, the snn o'er AusterlltX; ^ k^flnee, as some meteor flames and flits Unheralded across the sky, destiny rode hy; And though his wondrens work's undone,’ Still glory crowns napoleon. *€€ through our land, In dread array, attied to death the blue and gray, now the dead united l!e; tbsftivSg, hand in hand, pass by; And though war's clamors sound no more, Its giory gilds our country o'er. WSKHErS life’s the life for we; £^ffi?S$Mltrs achieved CbenMpylX; Sjfcfljme’s array won supresa-y; Chr^tword and lance made chivalry, Trance' eagles won him victory. And soidlers set Columbia free. •Col. Turner served through the civil war as a volunteer officer. Some years ago he became connected with the First infantry of the Illinois National Guard and commanded that regiment during the campaign at Santiago. Cuba, in 1S9S. The poem is copyrighted by the author. VISION OF GETTYSBURG. Painted by a Little Girl for Her Sol dier Grandfather. “Some years ago an old man with silvery hair was led into the cyclo ratua of Gettysburg by a bright-faced little girl. Aged and feeble, he sat down, while the child described to him the features of the picture. Oc casionally he asked her a question as in doubt of the accuracy of her ac count She had described the charge of the confederate columns and the struggle at the stone wall, when he asked: 'But where's the artillery. May?' 'Do you mean the big guns? They're over there on the hill in a row.’ ‘All in a row?" he asked. 'Yes,' she said: 'there are some more down here, but they are all upset. I think they are bursted.' Is that where the men are coming over the hill?’ ‘Yes. grandpa.’ ’Is there a grove of trees?’ 'Yes, it seems to be full of men. but the smoke is so thick you can not see them.’ ’Oh. I see them,' he cried. “It was then noticed by some of the party near him that he was blind. The little girl answered: 'O, no, grandpa, you can't see them.' ’Yes, I can,’ said the old soldier. ’I can see the men, the grove, and the broken cannon ly ing about’ The child looked at him in innocent surprise, and said: 'You are jokihg, grandpa.' 'No, my dear,' answered the old man. 'No, that was the last thing I ever saw. There was a caisson exploded there just this side of the stone wall, and that was the last terrible picture I ever saw, for it was then that I lost my eyesight, and I have never j&t the picture out of my mind.’ ” HIS DAY. Foundation of Great Deeds. All the great men who have soared above their fellows, whose names are carved on the adamantine rocks of time for the deeds they accomplished, were all, without exception, in love with their work, no matter what it was, and herein lay their greatness. Daily Thought. The great question in life is the suf fering we cause; and the utmost in genuity of metaphysics cannot justify the man who has pierced the heart that loved him.—Benjamin Constant <JZaj - Civ- O-O Dr RING the latter part of the war. in 1S64, and until its close, in 1865, I was con nected with the armies under Gen. Sherman, usually desig nated the Army of the Ten nessee, the Army of the Cumberland and the Army of the Ohio, wrote Maj. Gen. O. O. Howard. The campaigns were exceedingly active. From Chat tanooga to Atlanta Sherman's soldiers were under fire every day. except the three just before crossing the Etowah, for 113 days. There was not a day or night in which there were no soldiers slain. The screeching shells burst over our heads while we were sleep ing. but. wonderful to tell, the sol diers had become so used to this con flict that they lost very little sleep in consequence of the fitful and random firing at night. In that period of 113 days there were , 19 sizable battles fought. In one at tack I made at Pickett's Mill 1 lost, S00 killed and three times as many j wounded within the space of 15 min utes. At night I sat among the wounded and realized something of j the horrors of war. It seems to me to-, day as I think of it like a terrible j nightmare, but. it was a more terrible i reality, which I will not attempt to de scribe. Without further detail, imagine the j joy that came over the armies of Sher- j man as they gathered about Raleigh, | X. C.. in 1866, and were told that Lee J had surrendered and that Grant had sent Lee's soldiers home to begin life anew; that Johnston had surrendered on the same terms as Lee and all that belonged to Slocum’s, Schofield's and Howard's armies were to march on the morrow toward Washington, the capital of the nation, soon to be mus tered out of service and then to go home. I remember the sudden depres sion at the news of Lincoln's death; but still this going home produced too great a joy to keep ever this catas trophe of their heavy loss very long before their minds. They marched habitually at 20 miles a day from* Raleigh to Richmond, and never seemed weary at the close of any day's march—the camp fire was bright, the old songs were sung over and over again and the comradeship knitted during the war would never cease—it was at its best when the word "peace” filled all the air I know that we were proud when we marched past the president of the United States in our last great re view; but, as 1 remember it, it was a tearful pride even then. A regiment had gone out 1,000 strong; it had been recruited and re-recruited; it had been veteranized and added to in other ways; and now it was bringing home less than 300 of all the men who had gone out from that section of the country from which It had come. The joy of going home for the 300 was great, but it was a tearful joy the in AT GETTYSBURG How soon the first fierce rain of death. In big drops dancing on the trees. Withers the foliage.—At a breath, Hot as the blast that dried old seas. The clover falls like drops of blood From mortal hurts, and stains the sod: The wheat is clipped, but the ripe grain, Here long ungarnered shall remain: And many who at the drum’s long roll Sprung to the charge and swelled the cheer. And set their flags high on the knoll. Ne'er knew how went the fight fought here; For them a knell tumultuous shells Shook from the consecrated bells. As here they formed that silent rank. Whose glorious star at twilight sank. And night, which lulls all discords—night. Which stills the folds and vocal wood, And. with the touch of finger light. Quiets the pink-lipped brook's wild mood. Which sends the wind to seek ihe latch. And seals young eyes while mothers watch— Night stays the battle, but with day Their lives, theumseives, foes hurl away. Shall be to-morrow's battlefield. Kre dying died or dead were cold. New hosts pressed on the lines to hold. And held them-hold them now in sleep, While stars and sentinels go around. And war-worn chargors shrink like sheep Beside their, riders on the ground. All through the night—all through tha North Speed doubtful tidings back and forth: Through North and South, from dusk till day, A sundered people diverse pray. So gradual sink the deliberate »tars. The sun doth run the laggards down, At sleep still meadows burst the bars. And flood with light the steepled tqwn. Blow! bugles of the cavalry. Blow! bugles of the cavalry, blow! Forward the infantry, row on row! While every battery leaps with life. And swell the tongueless throats the strife! —Isaac Rusling Pennypacker, in Sew York Evening Sun. CROWN WITH FLOWERS. Children, you were spared the sorrow That was brought with war and strife; O'er this land sweet peace has brooded All your young and happy life. But to you is given this duty; To remember the dead brave, And to crown with fairest flowers Every noble soldier's grave. —Eizbeth B. Comins, in Memorial Day Annual. stant one thought of the S00 or moro who could not go home, who never did go home, who were buried somewrhere in the broad land over which the 300 had marched, and too often with a headpiece marked "Unknown.”: After the war I stood in the large cemetery near Murfreesboro, Tenn.. with Gen. R. B. Hayes (afterward president) and Mrs. Hayes. I remem ber how Mrs. Hayes, who was an ex ceedingly handsome woman, looked up into the faces of the general and myself as her large, dark, speaking eyes were flooded with tears, when she said: "Just look there, that plot of ground is covered wilh headstones marked ‘Unknown.’ Unknown, un known.'' she repeated, “and yet he gave his life that his country might live!” It was a touching picture, but every time I think of it I say to myself: "Really, that 'unknown' soldier, ap parently unknown, recorded unknown, was not really unknown. Somebody knew him. His comrades knew him. A mother, a sister, a wife and children, if he had them, knew him. There is a better record somewhere than that in the soldiers' cemetery.” Our faith is so strong that we all believe in the resurrection and in the future life and have a great satisfaction in feeling that no sacrifices and particularly not that of life itself for duty, for what one sincerely believes to be duty, has ever been or ever will be made in vain. , ,The saddest pictures of all. to my mind, are those connected with a los ing battle like that of Fredericksburg, and still more that of Chancellorsville. At Fredericksburg the army of Burn side went slight forward to its own destruction. The lines of Lee, half en circling Burnside's points of attack, were complete. It was like a trap into which an animal deliberately puts his feet. We sprang the trap, and it is a wonder that Lee had not dealt with Burnside's army as the sturdy Thomas dealt with Hood's at Nasville. Gen. Couch was standing by my side iu me sie-epie m a cnurcn, near me close of that battle, where we together were taking a fresh reconnoissance. when I noticed that his voice trembled as he spoke to me. He said: ‘ Oh, Gen. Howard, look there! Look there! See tile ground covered with the boys in blue, and all to no purpose.” After we had returned, all of us who could return, to the other shore of the Rappahannock, the depression of the soldiers was greater than at any other time during the war. We could hardly speak to each other. Now, after years, we can recognize the fact that our grief was balanced by the joy of the confederates over a great victory, and yet not a decisive one, gained by them. At a moderate calculation there were sent into eternity more than a million of men, who left home in the prime of health and in strength; more than a million of souls by the terrible conflict. For one. I am glad, indeed, that there is an effort on.foot to set tle difficulties without bloodshed. Of course, the waste of hhmau life is not all of it. There is in every war a waste of possession, a destruction of proper ty and a degradation of character hard to avoid at the best. I know that there are some thing! worse than death. I know/that the union of our states was worth all that it cost, and I know that, humanly speaking, it was necessary that we should be purged as by fire; but is it not wise now to do all that we oan to hold up to the world the tflessings of a great peace; even the peace that passeth understanding, i which never must exclude any of the noblest qualities of a womanly woman or a manly man? A soul full of memorial greetings to all our sorrowing cofarades of the civil war. ) THE MOTHER’S LAMENT. Mu son. and onlg one. was battle slain, And he was all the world, and more, to me; I gave him at mg countrg's sacred fane, When Sherman marched his legions to the sea. In danger's threafning cloud, at coun trg’s call, He left mg side, and parting said to me: "If in the battle, mother, 1 should fall, Mg countrg and her God will care for thee.” And now, throughout the fair and blessed land, On love-ordained and sweet Me morial dag. We go, a flower-laden, faithful band, To spread on hero graves the bloom of Mag. But for mg soldier-bog that solace is not mine; Within a southern vale, afar, he sleeps, And in mg heart is twined the mgrtle vine, For him, and there rosemarg droops and weeps. 5w AT A PATRIOT’S GRAVE Grandmother's Memorial Day Speech By DORA OUPHANT COE. ft Tr. ft V ft ft’.-'ft’ftft^’i>ft<ftft’xft’v"ft^''ft’:vft<;:'ft> 'fts~ftr'vft\ Grandmother adamson had reached into the depths of her rose-sprigged handbox, but just as her fingers touched • the stiff ruching in the front of her .best bonnet her attention was arrested by a ring at the front door. As though suddenly petrified in her stooping position, grandmother waited while Susan Ann. her daughter, creaked through the passage way lead ing from the kitchen. At the first words of greeting grand mother straightened with a snap like a jack-knife, and an angry color tiamed on her cheeks. "Why, Marthy Ellen, what lovely roses! Did you ever see the flowers so handsome as’ they are this year? Come right in. It s dreadf hot. ain't it? Seems like I nev- owed it to warm up as early as i this season, but. then, it's been awful fi.'i" for the flowers. 'Pears like the roses and laylocks and pinies has just tried theirselves to see who could do the most bloomin'. Now, that's a pretty idee, ain't it, Mrs. Rayburn, that lay lock wreath?" "Yes; laylocks was Dick's favorite flower, and he set this bush out his sel, and 1 thought I'd make a wreath to hang on the cross on his tombstun." The expression on Grandmother Adamson's face would have made a good study. From a blaze of anger it passed through all the stages of horrified scorn to a stony determina tion. The development of the conversa tion beyond the paper-covered board walls collected her nebulous chaotic emotions into a stern resolve. Susan Ann was stout, and she had grieved all the morning over the long walk to the graveyard. As she sank ponderously into a chair, she la mented: "I get heavier on my feet every day I live, and the heat to-day is just awful on me. If mother hadn't had her heart so set on it. I wouldn't try to go to the cemetery. 1 just know I'll be sick." ' "Couldn't she walk up with us?" Mrs. Rayburn asked. “We'll not walk fast." But grandmother, with what was al most one movement, had stooped for ward and slipped off her congress gait ers, at the same time taking from its box her bonnet. She slipped a hand through the round handle of a little basket and scurried down the passage way and out through the back door. •On the step she delayed just long enough to put on her shoes; then, with her best bonnet carried more careless ly than ever before in its dozen years of use. she hurried out through the back gate. The cemetery was being made bright with flowers when grandmother passed through the iron gateway, and hei* face hardened as she recognized some of the stooping figures and the graves over which they bent. At a brilliantly-decked mound she stopped and. kneeling, said: “I hate to do it, Jeremiah, but I know you'd want me to. I won’t take them to any one else, though, Jere miah, though I know you'd say fur me to, if you was here. But dearie. I've keered fur these things ever sence they was buds, jest as tender as if they'd a b'en babies, and jest so's you could have them to-day. and I jest can't see any one else have 'em. How would you like to look over these posies and see that layloek wreath a hangin' on old Dick Rayburn's tomb stun? You fought, bled and died al most fur nothin', Jeremiah, when that old copperhead gits jest as many flow ers as you do.” , Grandmother had turned up the skirt of her black alpaca dress and, into the receptacle thus formed, had put every flower that had lain on Jeremiah s grave. She carried them all over to a far corner of the ceme tery and buried them under a pile of last year's leaves. Then she went back to the bare mound. Soon the faraway notes of ‘‘Cover I Them Over with Beautiful Flowers,” told that the procession was coming. | Grandmother heard, but she did not j once lift her eyes. She sat directly j upon the middle of the grave, her skirts spread as far as they would j over the flowerless mound, and she was knitting as calmly as if she were seated on a little splint-bottomed chair in her own room. She paid no attention to the astonished group that stopped before her. “Ahem!” coughed the master of ceremonies, Henry Blake. Grandmother looked up. “Hcwdedo, Henry.” Then, looking down again, "one, two, three, w'len; one, two, three, turn.” , “We’ve come to decorate Comrade Adamson's grave,” hesitated the puz zled Biake. “Comrade Adamson’s grave don't need no decoratin’—five, six, narrow; one, two—" ' You hain't forgot it's Decoration day. ' >ve you?” questioned the man. “If ; i?<ve. I’ve been the only one that has." A flourish of her needle indicated the flower-decked mounds. “But Comrade' Adamson was a hero, and he—" “Because he was a hci^ is why I don't want him decorated. That's the only way to distinguish him from them as ain't heroes.” With a little sweep of her skirts, grandmother rose to her feet. "It's jest because Jeremiah was a hero that his grave ain't gein' to be strewed with flowers jest like the ones 'TnnzzAfffT Jib szcrrojsMt ixy jyo jyopj:t' where the babies and copperheads lies. The babies might a-growed up to be heroes, if they'd had a chanst, but they didn't, and they's three hun dred and sistv-four and a quarter oth er days in the year to decorate their j graves in. It's almost a insult to— I *°— j “Well, this day don't mean nothin' ' no more. It used to be set apart that we might honor the nation's dead, but the day, like me and some of the others here, has outlived our useful ness and our time. Let it be Decora tion day, if you want to. but don't call it Memorial day any more. It’s just a holiday for the young folks to have ball games and picnics, and the older folks to put flowers on the graves of their dead. “Jest look through them trees. Can you tell whch is the graves of soldiers | who fought, bled, and died for this beautiful country? If this day was what it was named fur. there wouldn't be a flower in this hull graveyard ex ceptin' on a soldier's grave. I reckon it's little enough we do, even when we set aside a whole day out of a year to them as give their hull lives, and mighty promisin' lives some of ’em was, too. “Take your flow'ers. Put 'em on any grave you happen to see. It don't matter. This is jest Decoration day. There ain't no Memorial day no more."—Los Angeles Times. “OLD GLORY” ON MEMORIAL DAY OF all the many questions that are constantly being asked the war department at Washington to answer, the one most frequently put before it Is as to the correct posi tion of flying "Old Glory" on Memorial day at army posts and stations. To those who have no relation to the military service it is almost the universal belief that the flag should be displayed at half-staff all of May CO: but this is not so, for paragraph 444 of the army regulations prescribes as follows: "444. On Memorial day. May 30, at all army posts and stations, the na tional flag will be displayed at half staff from sunrise till midday, and im mediately before noon the band, or field music, will play some appropriate air, and the national salute of 21 guns will be fired at 12 m. at all posts and stations provided with artillery. At tae conclusion of this memorial trib ute at noon, the flag will be hoisted . to the top of the staff and wCl remain j there until sunset. When hoisted to j the top of the staff, the flap will be sa luted by playing one or more appro priate patriotic airs. In this way fit ting testimonial of respect for the heroic dead and honor to their patri otic devotion will be appropriately rendered.” A SOLDIER'S GRAVE. The dust that sleeps unthinking and un knowing That turf below. That recks no more of pale December's snowing Or long-daved June amid the meadows glowing. That knows not summer's birth nor win ter's going On field or bough. Was once a soldier's heart. It ceased its beating In duty's round— We o'er the heedless sod to-day are meet ing To learn the lesson time has been re peating And give ail patriot souls that sleep our greeting From tikis poor mound. —Frank U. Sweet n\ss. SOPHIA ktitlesen: HEALTH VERY POOR RESTORED BY PE-Rl-NC. Catarrh Twenty-five Year?— Had a Bad Cough. Miss Sophia Kitt -sen, I'. Illinois, LT. > A . v *• -. “1 liar.; been troubled with catarrh for nearly twenty ti\o tried many -ures for it. b very little help. "Then my l . • r a.iv • • Peruna. and Id:. | "My health eer p ■ - • » j I began taking Pi-mu.. M ; very sore and I had a '• “Peruna has cured me. Tit . r - catarrh is gone and my he much improved. I "1 reeomnietid Pentna friends who ar- 'ror.i PIRlSt UBLlfS: - ; fer tablets, rattier than * fluid form. Such peon’-• :* r I na tablets, w!:' n r-pr-~ n ' ■ j nal ingredients of 1 *«• : I. equals one areraye i. v of 1* Man-a-lin tha idea! U*ai ive. Manufactured h. Perana Druq • facturing Compan>t Colu.ro-ns, C rlRASE. “Something hard to be;. Deafness Cannot Be Cured fry local a; pllcaclooa. a* t!i**y ea*ed portion of th« ear. TtVre cure d-ialne**. and tbai 1* by : Deafneao la caused by an lufiaa* ! mucous lining of cbe Eaua> .v.-u: tube is Inflamed y u have a r.:n: perfect beartne. and when It :* e new If the result, and unle>» the V. taken out and this tube re»* >r-d * tion. hearing will be d*-tr y l i r out I f tea are CiOf 1 by I at -." but an inflamed • nd : n th-* - We wl;l give i ‘no H i . • 1 ' • ; Deafness (caused by .ii -"i ta-»* ! by Hail'a Catarra cure. ><v : - K J.CHESEYftv • . Sold by Drugsrift# :*• Take HalTa Family P si rconst The Little Things. “You. shouldn't," the : ‘ vised, “permit yourself to 1 • by little things." “Good heavens.” replied i tient. “1 wouldn't if [ ; but how is a man who a widow with six child: get around it?” Eating Cocoanut Custard P - Everybody praises CV r i if it's made riiti.t. leit a - spoil the entire meal, a jr selling "Ol'R-f’lK." • o h containing just the prop, r . two pies. Get the Custard : Custard pies. "Put up t; Co., Rochester. N. Y. ' When death, the great has come, it is never our • that we repent of, but out —George Eliot. If You Have Commsn Sore E. if lines blur or run together PETTIT’S EYE SAL\ E, . gists or Howard Bros., llu \ The man who is after result? always particular as to the : ----- Smokers appreci ate the qv. t Lewis' Single Binder cigar \ or Lewis’ Factory, Peoria, 111 The fairest of all thtnvr- fa earth is virtue.—Shakespear. Truth and Quality appeal to the Well-Informed 1:1 walk of life and are essential to r - success and creditable standing A ingly, it is not claimed that Syr-, and Elixir of Senna is the only r known value, but one of many r why it is the best of personal a a laxatives is the fact that it | sweetens and relieves the inter:: . | on which it acts without any d : after effects and without having u the quantity from time to time It acts pleasantly and natur truly as a laxative, and ii-> . parts are known to and ay . r physicians, as it is free from all able substances. To get its !>• effects always purchase th" c manufactured by the Califoru.i Co., only, and for sale by all La_ gists. If TOO Rffpr from Fltn. F»! ur - . - • ppwnn. or Jxave Ciuklivu tiuki DUoov«ry «a4 Treif -*ril them ln*w**d»rt# * all you ar» %*k«u w *! > is to ■* m Frwo bon* of Dr. M*> « EPILEPTICIDE CURE Ocmpliy. with Food «nd Dr^c. V -t ( ' • J une Ath IAS. ConnlaM i. r- ... tlmonlul. of OTSUtSi «ur.. IV. 1 ■ ■ i^rpa^ Git« AUK aeu («.. *• 8. BU. Furl «n*L »»x "*• ' ■** j* *