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* *