“What Ails Him,” Says She, “Is Girl.”
By Joseph C. Lincoln
Altbob of "Capn Eri' 'Partners of the Tide" f
Copyeiwr /so? Ao Bps mi ns CoiPAuf
^ Illustrations sy TD. Mtu.*tll
SYNOPSIS.
Mr. Solomon Pratt began comical nar
ration of story, introducing well-to-do
Nathan Scudder of Ills town, and Edward
Van Brunt and Martin Hartley , two rich
New Yorkers st eking rest. Because of
matter pair's lavish expenditure of money.
Pratt's first impression was connected
with lunatics. Van Erunt. it was learned,
was the successful suitor for the hand
of Miss Agnes Page, who gave Hartley
up. Adventure at Fourth of July cele
bration at Eagtwich. Hartley rescued a
boy, known as "Reddy." from under a
horse's feet and the urchin proved to be
one of Miss Page's charges, whom she
had taken to the country for an outing.
«»ut sailing later. Van Brunt. Pratt and
Hopper were wrecked in a squall, rratt
landed safely and a search for the other
two revealed an island upon which they
were found. Van Brunt rented it from
Soudder and called it Ozone island. In
charge of a company of New York poor
children Miss Tatter 1 and Miss Page vis
ited Ozone island. 1:. another storm Van
Brunt and Hartley narrowly escaped be
ing wrecked, having aboard chickens,
i pigs. etc., with which they were to start
a farm. Eureka Sparrow, a country girl,
was engaged as a cook and Van Brunt
and Hartley paid a visit to her father,
who for years had been claiming con
sumption as an excuse for not working.
CHAPTER XL—Continued.
Washington Sparrow was there.
There wa n t but one comfortable
rocking chair in sight and he was in
that, with his stocking feet resting on
the ruins of a haircloth sofa. He was
pretty husky looking, seemed to me,
for a man complicated with consump
tion and nervous dvspepsv, but his
face was as doleful as a crape bonnet,
and ’twas plain that he could see no
hope, and was satisfied with his eye
sight. He had a clay pipe in his
mouth and was smoking like a peat
fire.
now are you. Mr. sparrow .' says
Martin, bright and chipper. "How's
the health this morning?"
The invalid rolled his eyes around,
but he didn't get out of the rocker.
Neither did he take them blue yarn
socks ofT the sofa.
“Oh!’’ says he. groaning something
awful. ‘‘I'm miseraLde, thank you. Set
down and make yourselves to home.”
La There was only three settable pieces
of furniture in the room. He was
using two of 'em. and t'other was a
child's high chair. So we decided to
stand up.
“Don't you find yourself improving
this beautiful weather?” asks Hartley,
sympathetic.
Washy fetched another groan, so
deep that 1 judged it started way
down in the blue socks.
“No.” says he. "I’m past improving.
Jnst lingering 'round now and suffer
ing waiting for the end. I s pose Reky
told you what I had, didn't she?”
Hartley looked troubled. “Why,” he
says, "she did say that you feared
tuberculosis, but—”
“Tuber—nothing! That's just iike
her! making fun of her poor sick fa
ther. What I’ve got is old-fashioned
consumption.'' Here he fetched a cough
that was hollerer than the groaning.
“Old-fashioned consumption and nerv
ous dyspepsy. Can t eat a meal's Tit
tles in comfort. But there! I’ll be
through pretty soon. The sooner the
quicker I say. Everybody ’ll be glad
when I'm gone. ‘Don't.’ I says to ’em,
‘don’t rag out in no mourning for me.
Don't put no hothouse wreaths on my
grave. I know how you fee! and—’
Get off my feet, you everlasting young
one! Think I'm a ladder?”
- The last part was to Dewey, who
* had come in from the kitchen, and
was trying to climb onto the sofa.
idartin looked like he didn’t know
what to say. By and by he cleared his
throat and threw out a hint concerning
Eureka's coming to Ozone. The sick
man shook his head.
“No.” he says. “I'm self-sacrificing,
and all that, but somehow I can’t make
up mv mind to let her go. I can’t
|) bear to have her out of my sight a
minute. You can't begin to think, Mr.
.What’s-Your Name, what a comfort
’tis to me, agonizing here and suffer
ing. to have Reky setting down along
side of me day after day. the way she
does. You can't begin to think it. mis
ter.”
I cculdn t begin to think it—not
without v hat the doctor calls ”stimu
lan.s." The amount of setting down
that poor, hard-woi king Eureka got
time for wouldn't comfort anybody
much, it seemed to me.
“She’s my favorite child." went on
Washy, swabbing his eyes. ’ She al
ways was. too. Even when she was a
baby I thought more of her than I
done of ■all- the others.”
Eureka must have been listening,
for she called front the kitchen:
“Why, pa!” she says. “When I was
a baby there wa'n't any others. I'm
the oldest.”
The invalid bounced up straight in
the rocker. "That's it!” he hollers.
"Make fun of your helpless, poor old
father! Go ahead! pick at me and
contradict me! 1 s'pose when I’m
dead and in my grave you’ll contradict
me every time I speak.”
He blew off steam for much as five
minutes. Didn't ever remember to
stop and get his cough going. Hartley
turned to the door. I could see he was
disappointed.
"Very well,” he says. “I’m sorry.
I'm sure she is just the girl we need.
Good day, Mr. Sparrow.”
I cal'late Washy wa'n't expecting
that. He hitched around in his chair.
It had a busted cane seat, the chair
did. and he had to roost on the edge of
it to keep from falling through.
”Er—er—-just a minute, mister," he
says. ”1 want you to understand how
I feel about, this thing. If I was able
to do for myself ’t.would be different,
but—”
Eureka came to the door then,
; wiping her arms on her apron.
“Why, pa.” she says, ”1 told you I
' could fix that."
She went on to tell how she'd get up
j early every morning and cook the
, meals afore she left, and how Editha
would be there, and Lycurgus would
i split the wood and do the chores, and
how she'd be home nights, and so on.
She had planned everything. I liked
that girl. At last her dad give another
one of his groans.
“All right,” says he. “I give in. I
ain't going to stand in the way. Hadn't
ought to expect nothing different, I
I s’pose. Work and fret and slave your
' self into the boneyard bringing up chil
! dren. and—and educating ’em and all,
i and then off they go and leave you.
i Well. I'm resigned. Mr.—Mr.—What's
| Your-Xame, she can go, Eureka can—
I for two dollars more a week.”
I actually gasped out loud. The
i cheek of him! Why, the price Van
had offered was enough to hire three
girls. And now this shark wanted
j more.
Even Martin Hartley seemed to be
i set back some. But he was game.
For a “mercenary” chap he was the
i most liberal piece of goods on the
shelf.
“Certainly, Mr. Sparrow,” says he.
"That will be satisfactory. Good
i morning. Good-morning, Eureka. 1
| presume we shall see you to-morrow?"
t\ e got out of the house finally.
Washy come far as the kitchen to see
us off. He was smiling and sweet as
j syrup now. When I'd got to the walk
Eureka called me back.
"Mr. Pratt," she whispered, “you tell
Mr. Hartley that of course I sha n’t
! take the extra two dollars. I'll be
I paid too much as 'tis. But we won’t
j let pa know.”
Afore I could answer there was a
, yell from the dining room. I looked
: in and there was Washy doubled up in
i thar rocker with his knees under his
chin. He'd forget about the busted
1 cane seat and had set down heavy and
gone through. Editha was trying to
haul him out. the baby was crying and
the invalid himself was turning loose
the healthiest collection of language
I’d heard for a good while. • Eureka
dove to the rescue, add i come away.
Hartley and 1 walked on a spell
without saying much. Then he asks:
"Skipper, do you suppose that fel
low really has consumption?”
“Humph!" says I, disgusted; "con
sumption of grub.”
He thought a minute longer.
“Poor girl,” says he. “She has a
hard time of it. We must see if we
can't help her in some way.”
CHAPTER XII.
Miss Sparrow’s Diagnosis.
Eureka was on hand bright and
early the,next day and it didn’t take
me. long to see that she was worth her
salt. She took hold like a good one
and had breakfast—and a mighty good
breakfast—ready right on time. 1
don't know when I've enjoyed a meal
like I done that one, sure all the while
that 1 hadn't got to turn to and wash
the dishes afterwards. 1 went out to
my gardening feeiing like a sick man
who had turned the corner and was on
the road to getting well again.
And from then on the Natural Life
was easy for all of us. for quite a
spell. The new girl was a wonder, so
far as doing work was concerned.
She'd go through Marcellus' old home
like a hurricane, sweeping and dusting
and singing. She was most always
singing—that is. when she wa’n't talk
ing. She had a queer program of
music, too. running from hymn tunes
to songs she'd heard the boarders use
over at the hotel. One minute 'twould
be, "Land Ahead! Its Fruits Are
Waving,” and the next meeting some
body ' in the shade of the old apple
tree.”
One day I come in and she was
piping up about how everybody in her
house worked but her dad, or words to
that effect.
"Hello!" says I. "Did you make that
up out of your head?"
"No,” she says. “It's a new one
that Lvcurgus heard over to the Old
Home house. It sounded so as if 'twas
made for our family that it kind of
stuck in Lvs’ craw and he come home
and told it to me.
*' ‘Everybody works but father.
And he sets ‘round all day.’
“I tried it on pa last night." she
went on. ‘ Thought it might jar him
some, but it didn't. He said ’twas
funny. Maybe I'd think so, too, if I
was him.”
How Hartley laughed when he heard
her singing. She tickled the Twins
most to death, anyway. She was as
sharp as a wjiip and as honest as a
Quaker parson. When her first pay
day come she set her squared-toed
boot down and simpiv would not take
the extry two dollars wages. She said
even a hog knew when it had enough,
and she want a hog. Martin told
me he was going to make it up to her
sente other way. The Heavenlies was
mighty interested in her; hut not more
so tnan sne was in tnem.
She ami I had some great confabs
when we was aicne together. She
asked I don't know how many ques
tions about Hartley and Van Brunt;
why they was living this way. and
how they used to live and all. I told
her some of what Lord James had
told me. but not the whole. I left out
about the engaged business, because
I figgered it wa n t any of her affairs,
rightly speaking. Course iwa'n't none
of mine, neither, but somehow I'd got
to feel that I was a sort of father to
them two cracked New Yorkers.
“Do you think they're crazy?” she
asks. "Nate Scudder says they act as
if they was."
“You’ve got me,” says I. “I ain’t
made up my mind yet.”
“What makes ’em go in swimming
every morning?" she wanted to know.
“Why, to take a bath, I guess,” says
I “Van Brunt told me he always
took his ’plunge' when he was home.”
She nodded, quick as usual. “Urn
hum,” says she. “I've read about it.
They do it in the marble swimming
pool in the gardens of the ducal man
sion. And there's palm trees around
and fountains, and nightingales sing
ing. and music floating on the balmy,
perfumed air. And when they’ve got.
al! scrubbed up there's velvet-footed
menials to fan ’em and give ’em
hasheesh to smoke."
“Want to know!” I says. “What's
hasheesh? Plug cut or cigars?”
“ ’Tain't neither,” said she. “It’s
some kind of stuff that makes you
dream about beautiful women and
tilings.”
w ell, they don t have that here,
says I. “They smoke cigars and cig
a-ettes. And I've smoked both of ’em
and my dreams was mainly about how
much work 1 had to do. Nightingales
are birds, ain't they? We're pretty
shy on nightingales over here to
Horsefoot, but maybe fhe gulls make
that up. Gulis don’t sing, no more
than hens, but they screech enough for
six. Where did you get all this stuff
from, anyway?”
She got it out of library books and
the Home Comforter. Seems old Miss
Paine, over in the village, lent her the
Comforter every week as fast as she
got through with it herself. Eureka
had never been to the city, nor any
wheres further than Eastwich. and her
ideas about such things was the
queerest mixed-up mess of novel trash
and smart boarder's lies that ever
was. That, and what she’d read In
the newspapers. She said she was
going to the city some day when her
"affinity" showed up.
’ What’s your idea of a first-class af
finity?" I asks, looking for informa
tion. I didn't know whether 'twas an
arimal or a cart.
“Well,” says she. “he’s got to be
gcod-lcoking and have chests and
chests of gold and jewelry. Further
than that I ain't made up my mind
yet.”
She said when she did go she would
sew up her money in the waist of her
dress and if a confidence man or a
trust or a policeman tried to get it
away from her, she bet he'd have
trouble on his hands.
•Policeman?” says I. "What would
he be doing trying to steal your
money? Policemen ain’t thieves.”
"They ain't, hey?" she says. “City
policemen ain't? I guess you ain't read
much about ’em.”
She read the police committee trials
in a stack of three or four-year-oid
newspapers and they’d fixed her, far's
pokceuidn was concerned.
She didn’t take any stock in Hart
ley's being down oar way for his
health. She said she had made up her
mind what was the matter with him.
“What ails him," says slie, “is Girl.”
"Girl?” says I.
“Yup. He's in love.”
I set back and looked at her. Mind
you I hadn't said one word about
Agnes Page or the busted engagement.
“Get out!” I says, finally. "What
did he come here for, then? There ain’t
a female native in this neighborhood
that wouldn’t stop a clock—present
company excepted, of course.”
“It don’t make no difference. He’s
in love, and he's come here to forget
his troubles. You never read ‘False,
but Fair; or the Bride Bereft,’ did
you? I thought not. Why, East Well
mouth is Glory alongside of some
places that young men in love goes to.
You wait. I'll find out that girl's
name some of these days.”
She said that Van Brunt wa'n't in
love; which struck me funny, knowing
what I did.
'Twa'n't so very long after this that !
the Heavenlies and me drove to South !
Eastwich to visit the Fresh Air school.
1 don't think Hartley would have gone
if it hadn't been that his name was
’specially mentioned in the note from
Agnes. Even then Van had to say
that he wouldn’t go unless his chum
did.
We left Eureka to keep house. It
seemed to suit her first rate.
"You wait till that Scudder man
comes,” she says to me. "I want to
talk to him about the milk he’s been
leaving."
"What's the matter with it?” I asks.
"Ain't he giving full measure?”
“Not of milk he ain't.” she says
“It’s too white to wash with and too
blue to drink. I’m going to tell him
we’ve got a pump ourselves.”
The Eastwich school was a big old
farmhouse with considerable land
around it. The youngsters had lots of
room to run and carry on. All hands
was at the door to meet us, Agnes and
Miss Talford and Redny. and all the
inmates. The Heavenlies had stopped
in the village and got a big freezer full
of ice cream—they ordered it ahead—
and. well. I thought we'd got a warm
welcome, but when the children saw
that freezer—
The ladies shook hands with us and
asked us in. Lord James was there in
all his glory. You could see that his
new job suited him down to his shoes.
No hard work, no sailing or such like,
good easy bosses and plenty of pick
ing on the side, I judged, i turned the
horse and carriage over to him. under
protest, and we went into the house.
"First of all. Ed," said the Page
girl, turning to Van Brunt, "I want to
thank you. on behalf of the children,
for your kindness in sending them the I
fruit. It is delicious. You should see
the dears every day when the express
man comes with the basket."
Van looked puzzled. "Fruit?" h°
| says. “I don’t understand. Do you
| know anything about fruit, skipper?”
I pleaded not guilty. Hartley didn't
| seem to hear. He was busy talking
j with Miss Talford.
“Why!” says Agness. "Doesn't it
I come from you? We have been receiv
i ing the loveliest basket of fruit from
. Boston every morning. I thought of
! course you had ordered it for us.
Didn't you. really?”
Van shook his head. “It takes a
man with the ordinary amount of
brains and thoughtfulness to do things
like that," he says. “I'm miles below
the average in such things. In all but
carelessness and general idiocy I'm a
bear on the market. Here, Martin!
Miss Talford. please excuse him for
a moment, will you? Martin, are you
responsible for this fruit?”
(TO BE CONTINUED.)
FOUND WANTING AS A LOVER.
Young Man Not the Type to Suit
Sweetheart’s Mother.
A sharp-featured, determined little
woman popped her head out of the
door and indignantly demanded ihe
business of a bashful young man, who
had been hanging around the house
for hours in a pitiless downpour of
rain, hoping against hope that his
adored would invite him in.
’’Now, then, young feller, what do
ver want here? Trvin’ to wear the
pavement out, or what?” she de
manded, sarcastically.
”1 reckon I've come a-courtin’ your
daughter,” the shame-faced youth ad
mitted.
‘‘Oh. ye're after Lizzie, are ver?
Then take my advice, young man, an’
run away an’ lose yerself. My gal
ain’t goin’ to marry a chap that ain’t
got courage to knock at the door an’
as for her—not likely! Why, when
my husban’ came a-courtin’ me and
! found the door locked he climbed the
back-yard wall, strangled the bulldog
an’ knocked the old man silly wi’ a
clump on the jaw. Then he grabbed
hold of my hand and shoved a ring as
big as a cartwheel on my finger and
told me that the banns were published
last Sunday. That’s the sort o’ hus
band I want for our Lizzie—not a shiv
erin' milksop that ain’t got sense to
come in out of the rain I”—Tit-Bits.
A Distinction.
Five-year-old Deborah had been in
vited to take luncheon at a restau
rant with Miss K.
“Do you like cocoa?" she was asked.
When the answer was "Yes,” the
beverage was duly brought, but re
mained untasted.
At last Miss K. said: “Why don't
you drink your cocoa, Deborah, when
you said you wanted it?"
“I didn’t say I wanted it,” replied
the child, politely; "I only said I
liked it.” — Woman's Home Com
panion.
Overshoes for Horses.
In large cities like Chicago and
New York icy asphalt pavements
cause the death of hundreds of horses
every winter. Many styles and shapes
of shoes are. now being introduced in
an endeavor to stop accidents, one of
the most promising of which consists
of a chain tread, which can be quick
ly buckled on and as quickly taken
off the foot of a horse without the use
of tools. It is practically self-adjust
ing, is strong, cheap and durable.
Heaven.
In the philosophy of some men
heaven is nothing but a place where
everybody will be able to buy cheap
and sell high.
WESTERS CRUMS 1308 CROP
WILL GIVE TO THE FARMERS OF
WEST A SPLENDID RETURN.
The following interesting bit of yi
formation appeared in a Montreal
paper:
"Last December, in reviewing the
year 1907, we had to record a wheat
harvest considerably smaller in vol
ume than in the previous year. Against
ninety millions in 1906 the wheat crop
of the West in 1907 only totaled some
seventy-one million bushels, and much
of this of inferior quality. But the
price averaged high, and the total re
sult to the farmers was not unprofit
able. This year we have to record by
far the largest wheat crop in the coun
try's history. Estimates vary as to
the exact figure, but it is certainly not
less than one hundred million bushels,
and in all probability it reaches one
hundred and ten million bushels. The
quality, moreover, is good, and the
price obtained very high, so that in
ali respects the Western harvest of
1908 has been a memorable one. The
result upon the commerce and finance
of the country is already apparent.
The railways are again reporting in
creases in traffic, the general trade of
the community 1ms become active
after twelve months' quiet, and the
banks are loosening their purse strings
to meet the demand for money. The
prospects for 1999 are excellent. The
credit of the country never stood as
high. The immigrants of 1907 and L90S
have now been absorbed into the in
dustrial and agricultural community,
and wise regulations are in force to
prevent too great an influx next year.
Large tracts of new country will be
opened up by the Grand Trunk Pacific
both in East and West. If the seasons
are_ favorable the Western wheat crop
should reach one hundred and twenty
million bushels. The prospects for
next year seem very fair.” An inter
esting letter is received from Cardston,
Alberta (Western Canada), written to
an agent cf the Canadian Government,
any of whom will be pleased to advise
correspondents of the low rates that
may be allowed intending settlers.
"Cardston, December 31st. 190S.
“Dear Sir: Nowt that my threshing
Rs done, and the question 'What Will
the Harvest Be,' has become a cer
tainty. 1 wish to report to you the re
sults thereof, believing it will be of in
terest to you. You know I am only
a novice in the agricultural line, and
do net wish you to think I am boasting
because cf my success, for some of my
neighbors have dene much better than
1 have, and I expect to do much bet
ter next year myself. My winter wheat
went 53 bushels per acre—and graded
No. 1. My spring wh^at went 4S%
bushels per acre, and graded No. 1,
My oats went 97 bushels per acre, and
are fine as any oats I ever saw. My
stock is all nice and fa’, and are on:
in the field picking their own three
square meals a day. The weather is
nice an-I warm, no snow—and very
little frost. This, in short, is an ideal
country for farmers and stockmen.
The stock requires no shelter or win
ter feeding, and cattle fatten on this
grass and make the finest kind of beef,
better than corn fed cattle in Ills.
Southwestern Alberta will scon be
known as the farmers’ paradise- and I
am only sorry I did not come here five
years ago. Should a famine ever
strike North America, I will be among
the last to starve—and you can count
on that.
"I thank you for the persona’ assist
ance you rendered me while coming
in here, and I assure you I shall not
soon forget your kind offices.”
He Wouldn’t Sell.
The owner of a small country es
tate decided to sell his property, and
consulted an estate agent in the near
est town about the matter. After visit
ing the place the agent wrote a de
scription of it. and submitted it to his
client for approval.
"Read that again," said the owner,
closing his eyes and leaning back in
his chair contentedly.
After the second reading he was
silent a few moments, and then said,
thoughtfully: "I don't think I'll sell.
I’ve been looking for that kind of a
place all my life, but until yon read
that description I didn't know I had
it! No, 1 won't sell now."—Exchange.
Between Authors.
“Why do you lay the scenes of your
stories in the far north? Because you
know all about that country?”
“No; because nobody else does.”
OXLT ONE “BROMO QriNIN'E"
That is LAXATIVE HBOMO QUININE. Loo* for
the signature of 1C. W. GKO YE. Used the Worlil
over to Cure a Gold in One Day. Sc.
It's easier for a girl to look like an
angel than it is for her to act like
one.
Lewis’ Single Binder straight 5c cigar
made cf rich, mellov.- tobacco. Your
dealer or Lewis’ Factory, Peoria, 111.
A good detective makes light of his
ability as a shadow.
If Ynnr Feet Artie or Horn
gi-t a 2Sc mckajte of Allen s Foot-Base. It gives
3uick relief. Two million packages sold yearly.
Smiles make a better salve for trou
ble than do frowns.
The Common Strain.
The stress cf life may touch some
lightly, may appear to pass others
by, but most men whom we meet
with whom we deal, who wort: for
us or for whom we work, know well
the common stress of humanity If
in all our human relations this
thought could be kept before us it
would revolutionize life. We would
be humanized—ennobled. We would
care for men as men. We could
not escape the transforming realiza
tion of an actual brotherhood if we
recalled and thought upon the un
deniable fact of our own part in the
universal brotherhood of the com
mon strain.—Schuyler C. Woodhull, in
The Bellman.
There is more Catarrh In this section of the country
than all other diseases put tocether. and until tde last
few years was supposed to be incurable. For . great
many years doctors pronounced it a local disease and
prescribed local remedies, and by constantly lalltnc
to cure with local treatment, pronounced It incurul . .
Science has proven Catarrh to be a constitutional dis
ease. and therefore requires constitutional ire.-.ment.
Hail's Catarrh Cure, manufactured by r. .1 Cheney
* On.. Toledo, Ohio. Is the only Constitutional run on
the market. It La taken internally in com-, frern , i
drops to a teasponaful. It acts directly -m the t,,.
ar.d mucous surfaces of the system. Titov oio- on
hundred doflare tor any rase It fal.s to cur. r,
for circulars and torrimor.laa-.
Address: F .1. CHENEY * CO.. Toledo, Ghia.
Fold by Druattlsm. tic.
Take Hall's l air,.!y Pills for constipation.
V2in Longings.
First Barn Stormcr—I say. frier.d
Hamlet
Second Ditto—Yea. friend Shyirck.
First Barn Stormcr—Wouldn't it bo
great if we could cnly eat all the
roasts we got?
Nearly every man. when he reads
a good joke and remembers and tells
it well, thinks to himself afterward:
' What a witty fellow I am getting to
be!”
Pettit's Eye Salve fer Over 1C0 Years
lias been used for congested and inflamed
eves, remover film or scum over the eyes.
All druggi.-tsor Howard Bros.. Buffalo, N. k.
A man's wife never thinks his ill
ness is serious until he quits using lan
guage that wouldn't look well in print
The Best Laxative—Garfield Ten! Com
posed of Herbs, it cxertf a beneficial effect
upon the entire system, regulating liver,
kidneys, stomach and bowels.
Many a man has lost his good name
by having it engraved on the ha ndle
of his umbrella.
Lewis'bungle Binder straight Do eigiris
good quality all the time. Your dealer or
Lewis’ Factory, l*eona, 111.
Even a fast man may not make a
rapid recovery when he's ill.
“JSSSSS1 Thompson’s Eye Water
W. N, U.. OMAHA, NO. 4, 1909.
ovuycoto&
by prorpa^sKsunaX c$:r\sv.itVte as
sistance d Wet ontAtvXy Wv^vcvaV
touo&vc. teEnudySytup sIXmr
df Senna uXid\ endbu cnete^arevrefcAor
Yibds dob. seftuit abbcXanuto nature,
may be graduaby dispensed WAK
when. no \ca£er needed, as \be besA $
remedies when totted art te assist
na\wc,andvjEii te supp\aa\ tW na\uxc\
Wclvcns .wbxeWasi itf.'&d vftiv—
ma\c\y upon proper wcaristwneiA,
proper e^oits.cnd ivditbvmt vo&iaWy.
Tigd'dstLMt;.arArfUis.ct*ci.iiR., its- ^caares,,.
cal: fork's a
PiG SVRUP C©.
SOL'-, Qy ALL LEADiNO DR'jLCtSI S
ONESOLCKLSr-KEO'J-AB rf.£ SC* PER BOTTLE
I t. , I'osit.vcly cured by
idAKTtRS
El I • :f- i eve D»4
Tit i T"
fER I" 7’
LLS. \ .'V.,.:v. "
Eg "... L . * h. Cockt
*£9 I «*«t Ti , * . I ..in in the
--J=L-i>. • , v .iTi LI v t:r.
They regulate the L •••< ; i. . ,y VegetaLe.
SMALL PILL. SMALL ELSE. SMALL PRICE.
Genuine Must Bear
Fac-Simile Signature
I REFUSE SUBSTITUTES,
Tae Iteascn I ifake ant! hell xIcr* lira's$3.00
A/h>u.30 Shoos Tii^n Ary OihL. Kaauiactorsr
Is because I glr* the preerrr the besc&t el toe most
complete orramdrat.o:; c; tnzti expert* aac ek*)**^
?hot=akeri m tej tcuntr
Tae retortion of the isatar-x frr cub. par* 01 the shoe,
wi sverv Uciail of t'la hsupt - ir ever** urrmtinent lx
lore'*. after by the best shoer plerr i*» lie aL<* .r.drstry.
If I could chow r-i bow < rretuilv V* X. ih.iw
ar»- rnaac. vou would tita tn crur.d wt* they held
shape, tzi betur, tail us&x u-z^te lhaa. put: other maio.
L’y ki 'fnojtf Ja- ,i :u1h?Si •, * • &)?nr tfc/a
Flexible and Linger ifrec. .g n a -, ui g others.
Shocfl for Every Member «f itif- I-’anuly,
ilfi:, Boys, tVomm. .’iJ e-•.e* ukd C liiidrcu*
v,w ",,1“ k’t .. :fi everywhere.
- ' it hot VV L- !>• njrtoa
-• on bottom.
Tut C jiicr Edicts TTssd Lztluaivtlv. Catalog mailed free.
W. L. LCUGLAS, !S7 l*wt S;.. liruJuoa, rt**.
! PARKER'S
HAIR BALSAM
Clear * » and beautify tae hair.
Promotes a Inxurinut prowth.
Never Fails to Iiestore Gray
Eair tc ite Youthful Color.
Cure* fv'iip Sr hair taUuuy
¥.\ -rd;l. * ur. Irrcggiato
BESE£TEiBtoworj s*3
CIVS C tSSBfciHCUa. *£573R«>R K£ R224
_
Lameness"!
in Horses^
Much of the chronic lameness in horses is due to neglect.
See that your horse is not allowed to go lame. Keep Sloan’s
Liniment on hand and apply at the first signs o* stiffness.
It s wonderfully penetrating—goes right to the spoi:—relieves
the soreness — limbers up the joints and makes the muscles
clastic and pliant.
Sloan’s Liniment
will kill a spavin, curb or splint, reduce wind puffs and swol
len joints, and is a sure and speedy remedy for fistula, sweeney,
founder and thrush. Price, 50c. and £1.00.
Dr. Earl S. Sloan, - - Boston, Mass.
Sloan’s book on horses, cattle, ebcep and poultry cent f:reo.
I
1
I Registered
Ask for the
Baker’s Cocoa
bearing this trade
mark. Don’t be
misled by imitations
The genuine sold everywher^j