BY
JOHN BEECKENRID® ELLIS
ILLUSTB ATION S BY"
..O-IHWIN-mEBS
8YN0P3IS.
Fran arrives at Hamilton. Gregory's
home in Lltlleburg. but finds him absent
conducting the choir at a camp meeting.
Rhe repairs thither in search of him.
laughs during the service and is asked to
leave. Abbott Ashton, superintendent of1
reboots, escorts Fran from the tent. He
tells her Gregory Is a wealthy man.
deeply Interested in charity work, and a
pillar of the church. Ashton becomes
greatly Interested in Fran and while tak
ing leave of her. holds her hand and Is
seen by Sapphira Clinton, sister of Rob
ert Clinton, chairman of the school board.
Fran tells Gregory she wants a home
with him. Grace Noir. Gregory’s private
secretary, takes a violent dislike to Fran
and advises her to go away at once.
Fran hints at a twenty-year-old secret,
and Gregory In agitation asks Grace to
leave the room. Fran relates the story
of how Gregory married a young girl at
Rpringfield while attending college and
then deserted her. Fran is the child of
that marriage. Gregory had married his
(•resent wife three years before the death
of Fran's mother. Fran takes a liking to
Mrs. Gregory. Gregory explains that
Fran is the daughter of a very dear friend
who is dead. Fran agrees to the story.
Mrs. Gregory Insists on her making her
home with them and takes her to her
arms. It Is decided that Fran must go to
school. Grace shows persistent interest
In Gregory's story of his dead friend and
hints that Fran may be an imposter.
Fran declares that the secretary must go.
Grace begins nagging tactics In nn effort
to drive Fran from the Gregory home, but
M rs Gregory remains stanch in her |
friendship. Fran is ordered before Super
intendent Ashton to be punished for in
subordination in school. Chairman Clin
Inn Is present. The affair ends in Fran
leaving the school In company of the two
men to the amazement of the scandal
mongers of the town.
CHAPTER X.—Continued.
"Lem me!" Jakey pleaded, with fine
admiration.
"Well, I rather guess not!” cried
Bob. "Think I’ll refuse Fran's first re
Linest?” He sped upstairs, 'uncom
monly light of foot.
■‘Vow.” whispered Fran wickedly,
"let’s run off and leave him.”
"I’m with you!” Abbott whispered
boyishly
They burst from the building like a
storm, Fran laughing musically, Ab
bott laughing joyously, Jakey laugh
ing loudest of all. They sallied down
the front walk under the artillery fire
<»r hostile eyes from the green veranda
They continued merry. Jakey even
sv Hggered, fancying himself a part of
it lie regretted his short trousers
When Itooert Clinton overtook them,
he was red and breathless, but Fran’s
heribboned hat was clutched triumph
antly in his hand. It'was he who first
discovered the ambuscade. He sud
denly remembered, looked across the
street, then fell, desperately wounded.
The shots would have passed unheed
ed over Abbott’s head, had not Fran
called his attention to the ambuscade.
"It’s a good thing,” she said inno
cently, "that you’re not holding my
hand—*’ and she nodded toward the
tioarding house. Abbott looked, and
turned for one despairing glance at
Hob, the latter was without sigu of
life i
"What shall we do?" Inquired Fran.
bs they halted ridiculously. “If we run
for it, it’ll make things worse.”
"Oh. Lord, yes!” groaned Bob; "don’t
Kiake a bolt!"
Abbott protended not to understand.
“Come on, Fran, I shall go home with
you.” His fighting blood was up. In
his face was no surrender, uo, not
even to Grace Noir. “Come,” he per
sisted. with dignity.
"How jolly!” Fran exclaimed. “Shall
vre go through the grove?—that’s the
longest way.”
‘ Then let us go that way," respond
ed Abbott stubbornly.
“Abbott,” the school director
warned, “you’d better come on over to
my place—I’m going there this instant
to—to get a cup of tea. It'll be best
for you, old fellow, you listen to me.
now—you need a little er—a—some—a
little stimulant.”
"No.” Abbott returned definitely. He
had done nothing wrong, and he re
sented the accusing glances from
across the way. “No, I’m going with
Frao ’’
And don’t you bother about him.”
bYan called after the retreating chair
man of the board, ‘ he’ll have stimu
lant enough.”
CHAPTER XI.
The New Bridge at Midnight.
If. was almost time for summer va
cation. Like ail conscientious superin
tendents of public schools, Abbott Ash
ton found the closing week especially
fatiguing. Examinations were nerve
testing. and correction of examination
papers called for late hours oves the
l;unp. Ashton had fallen Into the
reprehensible habit of bolting from the
boarding house, after the last paper
^ (COPy&GHT 1912
^ B0BB5-NEPPILLC0.)
had been graded, no matter how late
the night, and making his way rapidly
from town as if to bathe his soul in
country solitude. Like all reprehens
ible habits this one was presently to
revenge itself by getting the “profes
sor” into trouble.
One beautiful moonlight night, he
was nearing the suburbs, when he
made a discovery. The discovery was
twofold: First, that the real cause of
his nightly wanderings was not alto
gether a weariness of mental toil; sec
ond, that he had, for some time, been
trying to escape from the thought of
Fran. He had not known this. He
had simply run, asking no questions.
It was when he suddenly discovered
Fran in the flesh, as she slipped along
a crooked alley, gliding in shadows,
that the cause of much sleeplessness
was made tangible.
Abbott was greatly disturbed. Why
should Fran be stealthily darting down
side-alleys at midnight? The wonder
suggested its corollary—why was he
running as from some intangible ene
my? But now was no time for intro
spection. and he set himself the task
of solving the new mystery. As Fran
merged from the mouth of the alley,
Abbott dived into its bowels, but when
he reached the next street, no Fran
was to be seen.
Had she darted into one of the scat
tered cabins that composed the fringe
of Littieburg? At the mere thought,
he felt a nameless shrinking of the
heart. Surely not. But could she pos
sibly, however fleet of foot, have
rounded the next corner before his
coming into the light? Abbott sped
along the street that he might know
the truth, though hf. realized that the
less he saw of Fran the better. How
ever, the thought of her being alone
in the outskirts of the village, most as
suredly without her guardian's knowl
edge, seemed to call him to duty. Call
or no call, he went.
It seemed to him a long time before
he reached the corner. He darted
around it—yonder sped Fran like a
thin shadow racing before the moon.
She ran. Abbott ran. It was like a
foot-race without spectators.
At last she reached the bridge span
ning a ravine in whose far depths
murmured a little stream. The bridge
was new, built to replace the foot
“But Whose Hearts Are We King and
Queen Of?”
bridge upon which Abbott and Fran
had stood on the night of the tent
meeting. Was it possible that the su
perintendent of instruction was about
to venture a second time across this
ravine with the same girl, under the
same danger of misunderstanding, re
vealed by similar glory of moonlight?
Conscience whispered that it would
not be enough simply to warn; he
should escort her to Hamilton Greg
ory's very door, that he might know
she had been rescued from the wide
white night; and his conscience was
possibly upheld by the knowledge that
a sudden advent of a Miss Sapphira
was morally impossible.
Fran’s back had been toward him
all the time. She was still unaware
of his presence, as she paused in the
middle of the bridge, and with critical
eye sought a position mathematically
the same from either hand-rail. Stand
ing there, she drew a package from
her bosom, hastily sealed herself upon
the boards, and, oblivious of surround
ings, bent over the package as it rest
ed in her lap.
Abbott, without pause, hurried up.
His feet sounded on the bridge.
Fran was speaking aloud, and. on
that account, did not hear him, as he
came up behind her. “Grace Noir,"
she was saying—“Abbott Ashton—Bob
Clinton — Hamilton Gregory — Mrs.
Gregory—Simon Jefferson—Mrs. Jef
ferson—Miss Sapphira — Fran — the
Devil—” She seemed to be calling the
roll of her acquaintances. Was she
reading a list from the package?
Abbott trod noisily on the fresh pine
floor.
Fran swiftly turned, and the moon
beams revealed a flush, yet she did not
attempt to rise. “Why didn't you an
swer when you heard your name
called?" she asked with a good deal of
composure.
“Fran!” Abbott exclaimed. “Here all
alone at midnight—all alone! is It
possible?”
“No, it isn’t possible,” Fran returned
satirically, “for I have company.”
Abbott warmly urged her to hasten
back home; at the same time he drew
nearer and discovered that her lap W'as
covered with playing-cards.
“But you rnusn’t stay here,” he said
imperatively. “Let us go at once.”
“Just as soon as I tell the fortunes.
Of course I wouldn't go to all this
trouble for nothing. Now look. This
card is Fran—the queen of hearts
! This one is Simon Jefferson—and this
one is Bob. And you—but it’s no use
telling all of them. Now: we want to
see who's going to marry."
Abbott spoke in his most authori
tative tone; "Fran! Get up and come
with me before somebody sees you
here. This is not only ridiculous. It's
wrong and dreadfully imprudent.”
Fran looked up with flashing eyes.
I “I won’t!” she cried. “Not till I’ve
told the fortunes. I’m not the girl to
go away until she’s done what she
came to do." Then she added mildly,
•“Abbott, I just had to say it in that
voice, so you'd know I meant it. Don’t
be cross with me.”
She shuffled the cards.
“But why must you stay out here to
do it?” he groaned.
“Because this is a new bridge. I'd
hate to be a professor, and not know
that it has to be in the middle of a
new bridge, at midnight, over running
water, in the moonlight. Now you keep
still and be nice; I want to see who's
going to get married. Here is Grace
Noir, and here is Fran . . .”
“And where am I?" asked Abbott,
in an awed voice, as he bent down.
Fran wouldn't tell him.
He bent over. “Oh, I see, I see'." he
cried. “This i^ me—” he drew a card
from the pack—“the king of hearts.”
He held it triumphantly. “Weli. And
you are the queen of hearts, you said."
“Maybe I am,” said Fran, rather
breathlessly, “but whose hearts are we
king and queen of? That’s what I
want to find out.” And she showed
her teeth at him.
“We can draw and see,” he suggest
ed, sinking upon one knee. “And yet.
since you’re the queen and I’m the
king, it must be each other's hearts—”
He stopped abruptly at sight of her
crimsoned cheeks.
“That doesn't always follow,” Fran
told him hastily; “not by any means.
For here are other queens. See the
queen of spades? Maybe you’ll get
her. Maybe you want her. You see,
she either goes to you, or to the next
card.”
“But I don’t want any queen of
spades,” Abbott declared. He drew
the next card, and exclaimed dramatic
ally, “Saved, saved! Here's Bob. Give
her to Bob Clinton.”
“Oh, Abbott!” F.ra'n exclaimed, look
ing at him with starlike eyes and rose
like cheeks, making the most fascinat
ing picture he had ever beheld at mid
night under a silver moon. “Do you
mean that? Remember you're on a
new bridge over running water.”
Abbott paused uneasily. She looked
less like a child than he had ever seen
her. Her body was very slight—but
her face was ... It is marvelous
how much of a woman’s seriousness
was to be found in this girl. He rose
with the consciousness that for 3 mo
ment he had rather forgotten himself.
He reminded her gravely—‘‘We are
talking about cards—Just cards.”
“No,” said Fran, not stirring, “we
are talking about Grace Nolr. You say
you don’t want her; you've already
drawn yourself out. That leaves her
to poor Bob—he'll have to take her,
unless the joker gets the lady—the
joker is named the devil ... So
the game isn't interesting any more.”
She threw down all the cards, and
looked up. beaming. "My! but I’m
glad you came."
He was fascinated and could not
move, though as convinced as at the
beginning that they should not linger
thus. There might be fatal conse
quences; but the charm of the little
girl seemed to temper this chill knowl
edge to the shorn lamb. He tempor
ized: “Why don’t you go on with
your fortune-telling, little girl?"
“I just wanted to find out if Grace
Noir is going to get you," she said
candidly; "it doesn’t matter what be
comes of her. Were you ever on this
bridge before?”
"Fran, Miss Grace is one of the best
friends I have, and—and everybody ad
mires her. The fact that you don’t like
her, shows that you are not all you
ought to be-.”
Fran’s drooping head hid her face.
Was she contrite, or mocking?
Presently she looked up, her expres
sion that of grave cheerfulness “Now
you’ve said what you thought you had
to say," she remarked. "So that’s over.
Were you ever on this bridge before?"
Abbott was offended. “No."
“Good, good!" with vivacious enthu
siasm. “Both of us must cross it at
the same time and make a wish. Help
me up—quick.”
She reached up both hands, and Ab
bott lifted her to her feet.
“Whenever you cross a new' bridge,"
she explained, "you must make a wish.
It’ll come true Won’t you do it. Ab
bott?”
"Of course. What a superstitious
little Nonpareil! Do you hold hands?”
“Honest hands—” She held out Doth
of hers. “Come on then. What are you
going to wish, Abbott? But no, you
mustn't tell till we’re across. Oh, I’m
* • i
“Now!" Fran Cried Breathlessly,
“What Did You Wish?”
just dying to know! Have you made
up your mind, yet?"
"Yes, Fran,” he answered indulgent
ly, “it's something always in my
mind.”
"About Grace Noir?”
"Nothing whatever about Miss Grace
Noir.”
"All right. I’m glad. Say this:
“ ‘Slow we go.
Two in a row—*
Don’t talk or anything, just wish, oh,
wish with all your might—
“ ‘With all my mind and all my heart
While we re together and after we part-—
say that."
Abbott repeated gravely:
“ 'With all my mind and all my heart
While we're together and after we part.'
"What are you going to wish, Fran?"
“Sh-h-h! Mum!” whispered Fran,
opening her eyes wide. With slow
steps they walked side by side, shoul
der to shoulder, four hands clasped.
Fran’s great dark eyes were set. fixed
ly upon space as they solemnly pa
raded beneath the watchful moon As
Abbott watched her, the witchery of
the night stole into his blood.
The last plank was crossed. "Now!"
Fran cried breathlessly, “what did you
wish?” Her body was quivering, her
face glowing.
“That I might succeed,” Abbott an
swered.
“Oh!” said Fran. ‘‘My! That was
like a cold breath. Just wishing to
be great, and famous, and useful, and
rich!”
Abbott laughed as light-heartedly as
if the road were not calling him away
from solitudes. “Well, what did you
wish, Fran?”
“That you might always be my
friend, while we're together, and after
we part.”
“It doesn't take a new bridge to
make that come true,” he declared.
She looked at biqi solemnly. “Do
you understand the responsibilities of
being a friend? A friend has to as
sume obligations, just as when a man's
elected to office, he must represent his
party and his platform.”
“I’ll stand for you!” Abbott cried
earnestly.
“Will you? Then I’m going to tell
you all about myself—ready to be sur
prised? Friends ought to know each
other. In the first place, I am eighteen
years old, and in the second place I
am a professional lion-trainer, and in
the third place my father is—but
friends don’t have to know each oth
er’s fathers. Besides, maybe that’s
enough to start with.”
“Yes," said Abbott, “it is.” He
paused, but she could not guess his
emotions, for his face showed noth
ing but a sort of blankness. "I should
like to take this up seriatim. You tell
me you are eighteen years old?”
“—And have had lots of experi
ence.”
“Your lion-traiuiug; has it been theo
retical or—”
“Mercenary.” Fran responded; “real
lions, real bars, real spectators, real
pay days.”
“But, Fran,” said Abbott helplessly,
“I don’t understand.”
“But you’re going to, before I'm
done with you. I tell you, I’m a show
girl, a lion-trainer, a jungler. I’ni the
famous Fran Nonpareil, and my car
nival company has showed in most of
the towns and cities of the United
States. It’s when I’m in my blue silks
and gold stars and crimson sashes,
kissing my hands to the audience, that
I’m the real princess.”
Abbott was unable to analyze bis
real emotions, and his one endeavor
was to hide his perplexity. He had
always treated her as if she were old
er than the town supposed, hence the
revelation of her age did not so much
matter; but lion-training was so re
mote from conventions that it seemed
in a way almost uncanny. It seemed
to isolate Fran, to set her coldly apart
from the people of his world.
“I’m going home,” Fran said ab
ruptly.
He followed her mechanically, too
absorbed in her revelation to think of
the cards left forgotten on the bridge.
From their scene of good wishes, Fran
went first, head erect, arms swinging
defiantly; Abbott followed, not know
ing in the least what to say, or iven
what to think.
The moon had not been laughing at
them long, before Fran looked back
over her shoulder and said, as if he
had spoken, “Still, I’d like for you to
know about it."
He quickened his step to regain her
side, but was oppressed by an odd
sense of the abnormal.
“Although,” she added indistinctly,
“it doesn’t matter.”
They walked on in silence until, aft
ter prolonged hesitation, he told her
quietly that he would like to hear all
she felt disposed to tell.
She looked at him steadily: “Can
you dilute a few words with the water
of your imagination, to cover a life?
I'll speak the words, if you have the
imagination.”
(TO BE CONTINUED.)
Ammonia water that has been used
for washing may be used for plants.
It is an excellent fertilizer.
LURE OF'TREASURE HUNTING
For the Sake cf Romance and Adven
ture Do Not Discourage the
Seeker of Treasure.
For the sake of romance and ad
veuture and all that puts color into
life it is to be hoped that the failure'
of the expedition which recently went
to the Isle of Cocos In search of pirate
gold will not mark the end of treasure
hunting. In the Interest also of the
good town of Panama, where the treas
ure seekers are wont to outfit and buy
supplies, ,we should point out that
negative results never really proved
anything. There may be gold on Co
cos. There may be millions of pieces
of eight and pewels galore and wine
which the buccaneers, who had more
than they could drink, laid aside for a
rainy day. Because many treasure
hunters have ransacked Cocos from
end to end no man can say that the
next treasure hunter will npt find that
for which all the others have labored
and sought in vain.
.Treasure hunters are of the earth’s
salt. They are the dreamers of great
dreams, the seers of wonderful vision,
l he makers cf romance. All the world
loves or should love them. The news
of the day is too much hardened with
heavy reading. One wearies at last
of political and social reform, of di
vorce and murder in sordid bar-rooms,
of the cost of living and the course
of the markets. There Is a craving
for something not so commonplace,
for something less prosaic, for some
thing wchich has a touch of moonshine
in it. Let us not, therefore, discourage
the treasure hunters with cold reason
like a dash of cold water. Let us rath
er fan their enthusiasm and keep It
forever aglow so that as long as news
papers exist there may be now and
then a tale of Cocos island wedged in
between the tariff and the trusts.
Wfyp Knows the Shaddock?
And here is a man who says that
the shaddock isn’t the grape fruit at
all—that they are no more alike than
pigs are like gazelles. ”1 have,” he
says, "never seen a shaddock here in
the market. The shaddock is a big
as six grape fruits. You would have
to get more than 75 cents for it; be
cause one shaddock would serve a
party of six any time. The juice
tastes very different from the grape
fruit.” He also declares that the grape
fruit should not have any bitter taste
—that this taste is imparted to it by
falling on the ground, the spray from
the rind being sent through the pulp
by the fall. ‘•If," he says, '‘Americans
could get the fruit of the grape fruit
as it is picked they would never again
eat the fruit that has been knocked
about from hand to hand.” All of
which is referred to the scientific
men, who say that the shaddcck and
the grape fruit aind the pomelo are all
citrus decumana, and consequently
the same thing.—New York Mail.
Spiders Work for Canal.
Official notice that six large spiders
were working for the Panama canal
came out when Colonel Goethals ar
ranged for a man to care for them in
the instrument room at the Gorgona
shops. From the cocoons the instru
ment makers will take threads for use
in all the engineers’ transits on the
work, these threads taking the place
of platinum.
TRIBUTE TO BARD OF AVON
Garden Contain* Every Shrub, Flower
or Plant Mertioned In Plays of
Shakespeare.
Tradition has it that Shakespeare
was a frequent partaker of the hos
pitality dispensed at a certain tavern
in Brentford, and until recently this
was the only direct association which
this portion of Greater Londoi could
claim with the world’s chief drama
tist.
Now, however, a tram-ride to the
Shakespeare garden in Raverscourt
park, Hammersmith, brings the po
et’s devotees to a little green board
which conveys this intimation: “This
garden contains all the herbs and gar
den plants mentioned in Shakespeare's
works."
Many an interesting hour may be
spent here in an occupation at once
literary and horticultural, in locating
in garden-bed and printed page the
whereabouts of the plants and flowers
which figure in Shakespearean
dramas.
On the estate of the countess of
Warwick in Essex there is a worthy
tribute to the Bard of Avon. It is a
piece of land known as the “Shake
speare Border,” and includes every
flower, shrub, and vegetable mention
ed by the poet. Every specimen is
labeled, not only with its botanic
name, but also with the quotation
from the play in which it is mention
ed.—London Mail.
Such an Obvious Solution.
After Cave Johnson had served his
long and brilliant career in congress
and had retired to the quiet private
life, he once stepped into the office of
his nephew, Robert Johnson, then a
young lawyer of much promise, and
finding the young man engaged in
writing with a golc pen, had occasion
to. remark upon the extravagance of
the rising generation.
“Why Is it,” said he, "that every
young man now has his gold pen,
while those of my day were content
to use their goosequills?”
“I suppose,” replied Robert in the
most innocent manner possible, “it is
because there were more geese when
you were a young man.”
CONSTRUCTING A GOOD ROAD
Some People Think Gravel la Even
Lasting, but This Is Mistake,
Says Missouri Writer.
Gravel roads If well built will last
six to nine years. ' [t sufTers most
when not needed, namely, in very dry
weather in summer or when frozen
hard in open winter.
In the first place the road bed
should be well made, but not too
rounded, as this induces waste.
Where seepy spots occur a natural
drain should be built crosswise of the
road, made of coarse rock to let the
water out to the side of the road.
Gravel should be at least eight inches
deep in the center and wide enough
for two teams to pass.
We once helped to build a two-mile
gravel road in Missouri which was
built by the tax rebate system 20
years ago. it worked hardship on our
district in this , way, writes John
Klingele of Hudrain county, Missouri,
in the Iowa Homestead. Our district
had a state road running north through
the center. To the north of us two
road district met on our center line
running north, and these two districts
united with us. We built to the be
ginning of their near end of road, so it
came to pass that they got the full
benefit of their work while we only
got part of it. Most of our people had
no use for it as it was out of the way.
To make matters worse, the road boss
es of the other two districts drew
their full quoto of road money at the
expense of our district. This left our
One of the Double Drags Made by the
“365-Day Road Club" of Carth
age, Mo.
road boss tbe next year with 63 cents
of road money and the poll tax to keep
the district in order, and by the time
all thi3 land tax rebate bad been used
our district was In very bad shape.
Our money nearly all went to others
districts and It is not just for a few to
have a good road at the expense of
the others.
When a boy 31 to 37 years ago we
did a good deal of gravel hauling, and
a few weeks ago 1 was surprised to go
back and find how those roads chang
ed. Where we helped build a good
gravel road 32 years ago they have
been hauling creek gravel every six
to eight years and in this way they
have a good road. They have the
gravel near at hand, and with plenty of
loaders a team averages one load an
hour.
I think if the law required four-inch
tires, and then the doubletree and
neckyoke were lengthened out to give
the team more liberty, the roads would
be much better. If we can’t go with
the four-inch we ought to stay oft the
road or use the spring wagon to get
the necessaries of life. There iB no
excuse generally for cutting up the
roads except about the first of March.
Our country roads will never be
graveled, for long before we get over
them we will have to start over again.
Some people think gravel is ever-last
ing, but that is a sad mistake. Even
now we don't think of saving our sur
face dirt and do not employ the motto,
“a stitch' in time save nine,’’ our roads
must wait till the working time comes
and go all to pieces if the weather is
bad in that time.
Selecting Ewes.
A Canadian authority said the best
time to purchase the ewes for a farm
flock is in August just after the lambs
have been weaned. We can purchase
them as cheaply then as at any time
and" can make the best selection in
choosing ewes that have raised lambs,
as their milking qualities and strength
can be ascertained. Besides, we will
have them irt good condition for the
next crop of lambs.
Poultry Industry.
The imports of the product of poul
try culture into this country from
foreign countries show that the field
is still open to a large increase of
the industry in the United States,
and that th6 opportunity Is waiting
for those with sagacity and industry
enough to take advantage of it.
Turkey at His Best.
The turkey Is not fully matured
until two years of age, and is in his
prime at three years, and nearly as
good at four years old. It is a mis
take, theerfore, to sell off all the old
er birds and retain the younger ones
for breeding purposes.
Price of Feeds.
Feeds of all kinds have averaged
lower In price during the recent feed
lng season titan for several years. But
they brought the Bame top prices
when sold to the cows.
WAS DOWN ON ‘STIMMYLANTS’
Evidently Good Wife* Didn’t Mean Jim
to Take Anyfhing That He
Wasn’t Used to.
“I think, madain.” said the profes
sionally polite young doctor to the
wife of his first patient in the back
woods of a decidedly nonprohibition
state. “I think that your husband
needs a good stimulant of some sort
and I will leave for him some—”
‘ No, sir!” she said, with marked de
cision. “You ain’t a-goin’ to leave_
Jim no Btimmylants like ki-uipe or
tinksher of iron nor that malt stufT
some folks takes nowadays without
knowin’ what it’ll do to their systems.
Me an’ Jim is both down on all stim
mylants. I’m goin’ to fix him up a
quart or so o’ good rye whisky to take
first thing in the mornin’, an’ I’ll stir
him up a good, strong whisky eggnog
at noon, and let him have a steamin'
hot brandy punch along in the middle
o’ the afternoon, an’ give him a glass
o’ wild grape wine at night; but as for
stimmylants, he ain't goin' to take
none of ’em, long as I can help it.”—
Judge.
SCALP TROUBLE FOR YEARS
268 Harrison St., Elyria, Ohio.—"My
case was a scalp trouble. I first no
ticed small bunches on my scalp which
commenced to itch and I would
scratch them and in time they got
larger, forming a scale or scab with a
little pus, and chunks of hair would
come out when I would scratch them
off. It caused me to lose most of my
hair. It became thin and dry and life
less. I was troubled for over ten
years with it until it got so bad I was
ashamed to go to a barber to get my
hair cut.
"I tried everything I could get hold
of,-and-, but received no
cure until I commenced using Cuticu
ra Soap and Ointment when the scale
commenced to disappear. The way l
used the Cuticura Soap and Ointment
was to wash my scalp twice a day
with warm water and Cuticura Soap
and rub on the Cuticura Ointment. I
received benefit in a couple of weeks
and was cured in two months."
(Signed) F. J. Busher, Jan. 28, 1913.
Cuticura Soap and Ointment sold
throughout the wTorld. Sample of each
free.with 32-p. Skin Book. Address post
card ‘‘Cuticura, Dept. L, Boston.”—Adv.
No Crossness.
"Did the attorney for the defense
cross-examine you?”
“Oh, dear, no!” replied Mrs. Pifle
gilder, “he was just as pleasant about
it as he dould be!”—Woman's Home
Companion.
Easily Satisfied.
It takes very little water to make a
perfect pool for a tiny fish, where It
will find its world and paradise all in
one. and never have a presentiment
of the dry bank.—George Eliot.
Etymological Dispute.
“A chefonyear is a sort of bureau."
"Tain’t nothin’ of the kind. It's a
man what drives an auto.”
Liquid blue is a weak solution. Avoid it.
Buy Red Cross Ball Blue, the blue tbat’s all
blue. Ask your grocer. Ady.
Most of us like to take a chance.
. If a rose had no thorns the probabili
| ties are we wouldn't care to pluck it.
Many have smoked LEWIS’ Single Bird
er cigar for the past sixteen years. Always
found in reliable quality. Adv.
It takes a truly great actor to real
ize that he isn’t the whole show.
A Message of
Good Cheer
! To those who suffer from dis
tress after every meal, such as
Flatulency, Heartburn, Nau
sea, Indigestion, Cramps and
Constipation, it is cheering to
know that
HOSTETTER’S
STOMACH HITTERS
has helped thousands back to
good health during the past
60 years. We urge you to
try a bottle also.
DEFIANCE STARCH
is constantly growing in favor because it
Does Not Stick to the Iron
and it will not injnre the finest fabric. For
laundry purposes it has no equal. 16 OX.
package 10c. 1-3 more starch for same money.
DEFIANCE STARCH CO., Omaha. Nebraska
TA N G O
Tl» new Mite Griped Madns
Ide Silver
(JoUar
Gee. P. Me * h. **1*3. Tree. H T.
Nebraska Directory
Try Us—It Will Pay You
Consign ,obt stock to n» lor good prices, good am 1
N. E. ACKER & CO.,
Live Stock Commission
item IIS-112 Eichirit Bldg., Stock Ids. Station, S.Onatn. hk