Image provided by: University of Nebraska-Lincoln Libraries, Lincoln, NE
About The Loup City northwestern. (Loup City, Neb.) 189?-1917 | View Entire Issue (Dec. 7, 1916)
rTIPPECANOE I By SAMUEL McCOY Recounting the adventures and love which came into the lives of David Larrence and Antoinette O'Ban non, in the days when pioneers were fighting red savages in the Indiana wilderness -> (Copyright, 1916, by Bobbe-Merrill Co.) CHAPTER XXIIi.—Continued. —8— . She shrank away from his filthy fcaml in unutterable loathing and threw herself face downward in a par ixvsm of weeping. The music of the Jrums and fifes had ceased. Outside, die camp buzzed wjth activity. The Prophet bent the reJ cup of his eye ess socket over a It pful of grotesque amulets, muttering incantations to ftiinself. Girty passed his hand soothingly #ver tlie trembling shoulders of the firl. and patted tlu tangled, silken ;loud of her hair. “I kaiu’t blame ye. my dear, fur not fakin' a likin' to seth a ugly ole crit ter as I be, but I've hed a hard life, ny dear,, a hard life. I been ornery. I'll grant ye. I been ornery, but I been sbleegeil to be. They’s a lot o’ pesky siean uien in this world, uiy dear, an’ I've hed to tight hard agin ’em. I’ve Seen waitin’ fur a likely young gal like you so es I kin go into the settle aients on the Canady side and live juiet, like a king. I'm askin’ ye quiet to go with tne, ye see?” Toinette only sobbed. “Ain't thet fair, es I put it to ye? What kin be fairer nor thet? I kin lee thet es pretty es a picter—me an’ foil o-settin' in front of the fire, me a-readin’ in the Book about the hles led Lamb o’ God. Oh, ye may know I was es good es any on ’em when I was a leetle devil. I hed a good old aiother!” Toinette wondered to hear him name fiis mother. She made no reply, and he suddenly burst in a string of the foulest oaths, cursing and bjasphein Ing. But he offered her no violence. He still hoped to find some officer in Malden who would pay a rich price for her. And such a purchaser would demand tier physically sound. For this Jie had seen to it that no war rior had harmed her; and lie meant to claim his money in the end. The drums had begun again, loud, defiant; hut instead of drawing nearer their music passed farther and farther away, fainter and fainter. Eikska tuws stole cautiously from the tent. Suddenly there swept over Toinette tiie realization that Girty had lied— liie fifes were playing an air that red ?oats never marched to—the stirring swing of “The President's March!” She leaped to her feet, her eyes blaz ing. Fainter and fainter came the air to which she unconsciously fitted the triumphant words: —wlio fought and bled in Freedom's cause. And when the storm of war was past— r-' * “Listen !” she cried. “ 'Tis the men from home!” She faced Girty, and all her days of dread, all her hours of suffering were forgotten. “I have prayed to God and he has answered uie!” For a moment Girty was silent tie fore the white radiance of her faith; hut lie threw off his hesitancy with a sneering laugh. “A pretty lot of good fhot handful o’ sheep kin do," he snarled. “By sun down tomorry we’ll bring ye ever' one of their wet skelps fur ye to play Weth.” He stepped hastily outdoors, and assuring himself that the troops had defiled from view, he returned, and, seizing Toinette’s arm, dragged tier roughly from the tent. As she passed out into the raw November wind, Toinette shivered. “Ye kin see fer yerself they hain't any on yer precious sogers brave enough ter fight a papoose, let alone all these braves.” he said tauntingly. The innumerable warriors of the Prophet, hideous in war-paint, stalk ing to and fro among the tents of the village, contemptuous of the cautious whites, lent support to his boast. Toi nette looked helplessly from side to side, seeking some avenue of escape, uud hope died in her eyes. CHAPTER XIV. The Battle. Soundlessly, in the dark hour after midnight, the great war-bow of the In dian was strung. But the camp of the Americans slept. A light rain fell. It Wats nearly dawn. % Suddenly through the black mist spat the red flame of a rifle; with the flame and the crack came the sound af a man running. It was the Ken tuckian, Stephen Mars, of Geiger's company, an outpost. A dozen rifles hi the hands of crawling Indians rang out; he fell in the wet and tangled brush, his face in the sodden ground. The night, which had been sound less save for the soft rush of the rain and the dripping of the water from tlie trees, suddenly became filled with the stir :md uproar of the awakening camr* with the whooping of the hid den foe, striking in the dark. David awoke from sleep and hound ed to his feet. A hand clutched his wrist and dragged him down again, while a voice commanded, “Keep low!” He saw that all the others in the Company were quickly, silently look ing to their rifles, but that all re gained crouching on the ground. The yells of the Indians seemed loudest at the extreme left, where Geiger’s horsemen stood, and at the extreme right, where Spencer’s riflemen lay be hind their kneeling horses. Before his own company, which, with the other militia companies of Wilson, Norris and Wilkins, was stationed in the cen ter of the rear line, the woods lay auiet, Seemingly empty of any Indians. * David turned about and glanced toward the center of the camp. Fifty yards away were the tents of the offi cers, lighted up by the campfires. He could distinguish the figures of them all. They were all fully dressed und were buckling on their sword-belts as they talked. Harrison was standing ._whilo «n orderlv Hargrove, divining that it was the general’s intention to ride away toward the points where the savages were attacking in numbers, struck David on the shoulder in his hurry: “Go ask Colonel Decker if we are to stand here! Quick, before General Harrison goes!” David ran toward the officers. As he reached them. Harrison succeeded in getting his foot into the stirrup and threw himself into the saddle. Decker was about to mount. David saluted as he ran. crying, “Is Captain Har grove to stand where he is?” Harrison answered before the colon el could reply: “All the captains are to hold their companies as they stand! You will do nothing but hold the ground until light enough to advance!” He gathered up the reins and with a bound, was gone through the falling mist, Boyd, Owen. Hurst, Taylor, Washington Johnston and Daviess urging their horses at his heels. I »avld ran hack toward his captain. The horrid tumult at the northwest and south-east angles grew louder. Da vid listened with an excitement that tilled his ears with tile sound of his own heart's throbbing. Two hundred yards away the rities cracked in a ceaseless sputter. The drums began. The orderly drummer at the officers’ tents was beating the long roil; the steady un varying tattoo spread its imperious summons through the night with a sound that forced its way through all the wilder babel of the camp. David wondered why it had not begun soon er ; it did not seem possible that not sixty seconds had elapsed since the lirst alarm had been given. A cold gust made tlie raindrops waver. He became conscious that his teeth were chattering. Two men, wriggling on the ground, succeeded in scattering the fire so that its light died down to the embers. David saw tlie other company fires go out, one by one. But they had not all been ex tinguished soon enough. As the light of the tires died out the flashing of the rifles became more plainly visible. The damp air was heavy with the acrid smell of powder smoke. In the swamp.at the east Da vid could see the flames of the Indi ans' rifles twinkling like fireflies. Tlie uproar at the northwest angle of the camp, two hundred yards away, grew louder. David strained his eyes through the darkness but distin guished nothing. Suddenly from tlie dark angle a trumpet blared out its immemorial summous to Charge. On the last note arose a burst of cheer ing. “Charging!” ejaculated Hargrove at David's side. It was the plan of tlie Indians to wait until a girdle had been formed on three sides of the camp, where a simultaneous attack might be made, north, east and south; tint before they had completed this detour of the wooded plateau the impatient sav ages stationed at the northwest cor ner had drawn in closer and closer to the American sentries in their ea gerness to rush in. It was one of these whom Stephen Mars had heard gliding through the wet underbrush; and at the report of his rifle the In dians threw aside concealment and began the onset on the north flunk of the little army, without waiting for more of their numbers to complete the circle ou the east front. And so the men of Geiger’s Ken tucky Rifles and those of Captain Burton’s regular troops, forming tlie northwest angle, awoke to find a hun dred shadowy forms rushing on them with the cries of wild beasts. Their answering fire burnt the very breasts of the Indians and lighted up the painted, hideous faces. There was no time to reload; the rifles became clubs that swung and crashed against rili and skull, or red warrior and white went down locked in the terrible em brace which the bloody knife alone, rising and falling, might end. But tlie angle held firm. When Har rison, and his staff reined in their horses at the spot, the hand-to-hand conflict was over, and the savages had retreated to the shelter of trees, where they might have time to reload their guns. Behind therrt they left a score of dead and dying of their own number; but some bore at their belts the dripping scalps of the newly slain. It was then that the trumjieter, at Major Wells’ command, had placed the trumpet to his lips and blown the charge. With a cheer, the men of Barton’s company heard the order re peated by their own captain and went ahead at a run. Only a dozen or so of Geiger’s men had been able to se cure their frightened horses at the trumpet call, but these, riding from tree to tree, drove the baffled Indians before them into the willows by the creek, where the horses could go no farther. From the angle came an aide with Harrison’s order to sound the re call. i They came back. It was wisdom that saved them from being cut off from the main body of the troops. For the tight had just begun. Only a little breathing space they had; and in it they looked upon the faces of their dead. The commander and his staff in spected the lines, letting their horses pick their way through the trees, through the darkness, loose-reined; each company, as they passed ft, pleading to be allowed to go into the thick of the fight, and the commander counseling each to hold its ground, until at last they came to Norris’ and Warrick’s companies at the corner ol the right flank and, here found Spier Spencer’s riflemen from Corydon In 'l such as Geiger’s and Barton’s com panies had just gone through. At this moment David heard some one calling to his captain. He strained his eyes through the infst, and as the man ran up to Hargrove, David rec ognized him as Georgie Croghan. Cap tain Hargrove spoke sharply: “What’s the matter?” Croghan saluted. “The chief sur geon has requested Colonel Decker to let him have some assistance. We have only three surgeon’s mates. We need more help with the stretchers. Can you detail someone, sir?” Hargrove named Barrence and Cockrum; they hurried away as Cro ghun led. From company to company they ran. lifting the dead and wound ed on rude litters and bearing them to the shelter of the wagons in the center of the camp; here they left their burdens and went back for a sec ond and a third time, and each time found some new victim. And then David was in the thick of the panting struggle which Spier Spencer’s men were enduring. The horses lay on the ground, and from over their backs the riflemen fired into the darkness peopled with the vague shapes of the howling savages; but the horses, terrorized by the upfoar and mysterious stinging things that tore them, tried again and again to rise; their masters kept them down only by superhuman exertions. There was a momentary lull; from across the little valley where the rush ing creek gurgled among the willows there came a strange and wild chant ing; high above the groans and the sounds of hurrying feet it rose, the sonorous cadence of the aborigine’s prayer to the Great Munitou, the fa ther of all. “’Tis the Shawnee Prophet, singing his own song,” said Dubois, the inter preter at Harrison’s side. David looked at General Harrison. The silent horseman seemed to have gathered in his eyes all the' tremen dous tragedy of the despairing race of red men. And then a grim smile crossed his face, as he reflected that he and his little army, uncouth, pro fane, greedy for material things, sor did as all humanity, was the flaming sword of the progress of humanity— driving out the old order, substituting the new. The song of Elkskatawa, the Proph et, the Loud Voice, went on. The white men heard it and were troubled. The red men heard It and grew drunk tteW-ToW \ aV VaivaITiaX: “ ’Tis the Shawnee Prophet, Singing His Own Song.” with audacity. “The bullets of the white man shall fall at your feet, my children, and their powder shall be sand!” How could they be harmed? Again their wild attack commenced; they left the shelter of trees and fallen log and charged the slender line that held the right flunk. Harrison shouted orders to his aids: “Send Robb's company here for re enforcement ! Tell Major Floyd to place Prescott’s company in Robb's position. Send Snelling to the north west angle, Cook and Baen here! Tell Colonel Decker to send Wilson’s com pany to the northwest angle, Colonel Bartholomew to send Scott's company with Wilson’s!” The night was slowly giving place to the gray dawn. A faint light stole gradually through the dripping branches. David could see how yel low the faces of the wounded looked in the pale break of day. Baen, lie knew, was woipuled mortally, Barthol omew hurt. As he neared the center of the camp, Robb’s Mounted Rifles, 7G men, went by him with a rush, the gallop ing hoofs thudding on the wet turf. Here and there the smoldering embers of the campfires blazed up again. Da vid went on with the sickening work of the hospital corps. He was carrying a wounded man to the shelter of the wagons when iittle Jimmy Spencer, Captain Spencer’s fourteen-year-old son, ran from the tents and clutched him by the sleeve, begging to be told if his father was unhurt. David answered the boy re assuringly; he had just seen the cap tain cheering on his men, a bloody handkerchief tied about his head. When they went back to the right, .Timmy ran at David's side, refusing to stay behind. “Father!” he cried, and the soldier turned at the hail. He was about to warn the boy to go back when a bullet struck him in the hip and passed through both thighs; he tottered urfd fell. “Go back to the tent, son.” he said, smiling. “Tour mother will need you if I don’t go home.” He drew the boy down and kissed him. For a long minute he rested rill his faintness passed; and then he be gan calling to his men to fight on. Suddenly the voice ceased altogether as a ball tore its way through bis '___ With the fife’s shrill music in their ears, the Yellow Jackets held their ground, though MacMahan, who took Spencer’s place, fell dead, and Berry, his second lieutenant, fell also; held it for two hours in the face of the frenzied attack of the Indians. The men with the litters were very busy; not only here but back at }he northwest angle, where the first attack had been made. At the opposite angle Jo Daviess was still chafing with im patience. From behind a log. sev enty yards away, a dozen Indian sharpshooters were pouring a wicked fire into the mass of tethered horses of the three squadrons of dragoons— Parke’s. Funk’s and Beggs’ companies. Twice Daviess had sent to Harrison for permission to charge and dislodge them. The stripling Croghan carried his third request. Presently Croghan came back on the run. He was wild with delight. “Tell Major Daviess,” Harrison had said, “that he has heard my opinion twice; he may now use his own dis cretion.” “God be praised!” ejaculated Da viess. Hastily he called for twenty volunteers. Quickly they threw them selves in the saddle. David saw them dash across the little space between the line and the log where the Indians were hidden and saw the spurts of red flame run along the top of the log. For every flash of fife a trooper reeled in his saddle; at the front rode Da viess, the idol of the backwoodsmen. As the red warriors began to break and scatter from behind the log, the last of their rifles rang out together, and the Kentuckian rose in his stir rups, clutched at his breast, and pitched headlong. As he saw Daviess fall, David drew a deep breath and begun to run across the wet and slippery grass that lay between the camp and the ambuscad ing woods beyond. The bullets ripped viciously through the dripping weeds and tore into the frozen ground at his feet. He heard shouts of warn ing, like voices in a dream, behind him; but he paid no heed and reached the Kentuckian’s side unhurt. He placed his hand under Daviess’ shoul ders and the dead weight sickened him. Three men from Parke’s com pany ran out and joined him as he strove to lift the body; with a des perate heave they raised up the dying man and staggered buck toward the line of riflemen. The men of Parke's and Beggs’ dra goons began to cheer as the four men laid their unconscious burden down in safety, and the exultant yells spread like fire from end to end of the little plateau; for Daviess had been struck at the very moment when the attack of the savages had ceased, and from group to group of powder-grimed and bloodstained riflemen ran the shouts of victory. The sky had scarcely lightened. The trees still dripped with rain. They had been fighting less than four hours; and the baffled Prophet, his incanta tions futile, his power shattered, was flying through the woods. A hundred of his braves lay upon the sodden field; the rest had faded away like the mist that drifted through the forest. All day the men rested, caring for the wounded, burying the dead, repair ing their rifles. All day Daviess lay beneath the tree where they had placed him, his life slowly ebbing out; and when at last his eyes closed, they buried him by the side of Thomas Randolph, the Virginian, his friend. The battle was won; and, although they did not know it then, this hand ful of men had saved to the nation an empire. Men threw themselves on the ground, tlie dreadful tension relaxed; young John Tipton scrawled in his daily journal; hut David could not rest. In the night that followed he wrest ed in agony with his fear for Toinette. At dawn they were to attack the Prophet’s village. Would she be found there, living or dead? He could not shut from his eyes the picture of what dreadful signs might be found in the tents—a torn robe, a tress of blood-stained hair, even her body—he shuddered and the cold sweat stood upon his forehead. At lust dawn came and the men were once more un leashed. CHAPTER XV. On Wildcat Creek. Toinette was dead. The news came to David and left him without hope or aim or wish for life. One of the Indian prisoners told the horrible story of her death to his captors, with a gleam of fiendish malevolence in his eyes. David shuddered as he had not among all the carnage of battle, and his limbs tottered beneath him. Some one of the soldiers raised up his rifle and struck down the boaster as if he were crushing a snake. No one held back his hand. One, with awkward sympathy, put hiA hand on the shoulder of the shaken David anil led him back to the American camp. Behind them the ruined village lay smoldering in the November sun; hut David himself walked as in a dreiun. Men who met him stepped aside in silence, to let him pass, daring to ask no question. Behind him rose the wailing of the Indian women, mourning for their dead, wailing among the trampled maize; and the unutterable sorrow in his heart grew heavier beneath their unending lamentation as the stalks of corn are beaten to the sodden ground in tlie cold rains of the dying year. Mechanically lie took up his work of watching over the wounded In the heavy wagons. The camp was struck, the homeward journey begun. The suffering of the men in the wagons was torture indescribable. Over the uneven ground the oxen dragged the lumbering carts, the wooden disks that served as wheels slipping and jolting over rocks aud into ditches with a cruelty which was no less heartrending because it was unavoidable. The carts were spring less. Hot with fever under the icy wind and racked with the terrific jolt ing, the wounded men raved, cursed, sang In delirium. Of the 151 wounded! 25 died on the merciless journey from the battlefield to the blockhouse on the Vermilion river, where the boats had been left. Day and night David , heard their pitiful moaning, the ---—* ,,J.1 it h ** fnmrpoi. tions and the incoherent wanderings of their tortured minds: “A tubful of honey in the lean-to and the bear got it”—“That bull went through the hoop”—“Make the stock ade higher”—“From Kaskasky with Georgie Clark, I tell ye”-“The An gel Gabriel set his feet on those stones”—“That calf’s got the milk sick”—“No, dearie, there ain't no more meal”—“Teacher, may I get a fresh quill?”—“I’m a old man an’ I want some whisky”—“All the Federalists’ scheming”—“Water! ain’t there even some rainwater?”—“Oh, Molly, Molly, Molly!”—“Watch the right flank ! The right flank .'"—“Water! Water!” Three miles below Tippecanoe the fleeing Prophet made a night’s camp on Wildcat creek, the Panse Pichou of the French. Dubois’ scouts found the warm ashes of his campfire there and close by one of the guides picked up a bit of lace. The man put it in the pocket of his shirt and brought it back to the marching column. David was among the men who crowded about him to gaze at the tiny shred of cloth; and having seen it he put out his hand and took it, and no man said him no; for they saw that he had recognized it as a part of a gar ment of Antoinette O’Bunnon, whom lie had loved and who was slain. Wil lingly the man who had found the Cloth led David, at his request, back to the ashes of the fire and there left him in silence; and for a long time David stood looking at the ground where Toinette’s feet last had been. The frozen wilderness was very still. The bare branches of the forest creaked and groaned in the November gusts, but there was no sound of hu man life. On a dead limb a mottled woodpecker with a scarlet cap searched industriously and vainly for its food. A sleek, brown-furred bea ver crawled to the top of the stream’s bank, looked inquiringly at the mo tionless figure brooding over the ashes of the fire, and slid back into the wa ter with a splash. Deep in the woods a flock of wild turkeys clucked among the underbrush. And so standing, Da vid tasted to the dregs the bitterness of his failure, the numbing conscious ness of irremediable loss; tasted the bitterness of helpless defeat and spent his hour of agony and vain self reproach, while the grim forest shut him in with silence. A rifle cracked. The ball knocked the cap from Da vid’s head. An inch to the right and he would have fallen, his skull shat tered ; but he had bent his head at the very moment when the hidden marksman’s finger pressed the trigger He was all alone; only his own speed and quickness of resource saved him. (TO BE CONTINUED.) “STATE” ONLY A MEMORY But for Four Years Franklin Took Rank With Its Sisters Under the Stars and Stripes. Historically curious, but almost for gotten, is tiie fact that the state of Franklin existed in this country be tween 1784 and 1788. Many emigrants from North Carolina had crossed the mountains and settled in what is now known as East Tennessee. The terri tory belonged to North Carolina, but the state, government had not been able to give it much attention. Owing to financial and other troubles North Carolina ceded the territory to the general government. The inhabitants did not relish tliej idea of thus being cast adrift so unceremoniously, sc ! they organized a state and set tip a government of their own. To theit \ new commonwealth they gave the name “Franklin,” after the Phiiadel phia philosopher. But congress de clined to recognize the new state, and 1 North Carolina raised strong objec tions. The latter withdrew the ces siou to the government, and undertook to resume control of the territory. A long quarrel ensued between the North j Carolina state government and the i citizens of “Franklin." The leader of the latter was “Governor” Sevier ; while a Colonel Tipton represented the ! former. There was an immense amount of bickering and much eonfu | sion, hut very little bloodshed. .1 j finally ended in North Carolina re sliming control of the territory, and “the state of Franklin” was knowD no more. Mammy Wasn’t Educated in Law. “Mammy” Washington seemed very ill at ease in court. She admitted tc the judge that it was her first time or j “polecceman ground.” Considerable j difficulty was experienced in making her answer questions. She would go [ just so far and then stop, all afluster i The judge hit upon a scheme. “There is no need for you to be ex cited. Mrs. Washington,” he said, with a smile. “I’m just a judge and you arc just you.” At last the old negress found het tongue. “I)at's jes’ hit, suh,” she cried, ex plosively. “I is me. but yo’ isn’t you, in (iem spec's, and wid dat crokny mallei in yo’ hun’. Ef yo’ could fix hit fer tc j talk dis over in a kitchen, I'd be all right, jedge!”—Case and Comment. -- I Steam-Driven seaplanes. Navy department experiments indi cate that steam-driven seaplanes may solve the motor problem of air naviga tion. Many officers believe that only the question of getting the weight of the steam plant down to the lowest VOSsible figure remains to be answered ! before a steamer of the air is con structed and tried out. Steam equipment would guarantee constancy of power upon which aero planes depend for stability. Most ac cidents to aviators, it is pointed out, may lie due to failure of motors. Steam turbines also would provide power fat in excess of anything' now obtainable with gasoline engines, it is said, a fac tor vital to the navy, since seaplanes are much heavier than aeroplanes fot service over land. Some Nightmare! Flukes—I had a fearful dream last night. Dukes—What was it? Flukes—I dreamed that I was a cen tipede and had a corn on every toe. Each man In the regular army (> said to cost Great Britain $1,.1<m> • vear. Society Girls' Fad. The latest fad among some of the New York society girls is to have the picture of the man they expect to wed photographed on their wrist. The re cent experiments in photography have developed this means whereby photos may be printed on the human skin. Usually the likeness is taken on the wrist. It is no larger than a five-cent piece and can be covered by a brace let or wrist watch. The prints made upon the skin serve somewhat the same purpose as tatoo marks, since they are practically indelible. A pho tographic film of special composition is fixed to the skin and exposed to fhe sun for printing. Some strong prints have been made this way. Wheel Farmer. She—My father, you know, is one of the most successful truck raisers in the South. He—You don’t mean it; where is his farm located? She—Hasn’t any ! He works in the car shops.—Selected. Did you ever notice that the size of trouble is your cue to start the confla gration yourself. HAVE HEALTH TO YOUR CREDIT One of Nature's most valuable aids in the promotion and main tenance of perfect health is OSTETTERS Stomach Bitters IT TONES STRENGTHENS AND INVIGORATES the digestive system. Tryjt CASTORIA For Infants and Children. Mothers Know That Genuine Castoria Always Bears the Signaturei of • In Use. For Over Thirty Years cusnmw Exact Copy of Wrapper. Tmi okwtwh —wunr. wow tow crrr. COLT DISTEMPER Tou can prevent this loathsome disease from running through your stable and cure all the colts suffering with it when you begin the treatment. No matter how young. SPOHN’S is safe to use on any colt. It is wonderful how it prevents all distempers, no matter how colts or horses at any age are “exposed.” All good druggists and turf goods houses and manufacturers sell SPOHJi’S at 50 cents and $1 a bottle; $5 and $10 a dozen. SPOHN MKDICAL CO., Chemists and Bacteriologists, Goshen, lnd., 1). S. A. PUT AWAY CHILDISH THINGS Ten-Year-Old Considered Himself Grown Up, and Wanted Caller to Understand It. Ben was ten years old and thought it altogether ridiculous to treat him as a baby any longer. His father had a lawyer friend who did not seem to have arrived at this knowledge of Ben’s growth and so usually addressed him in the same way in which he had spoken to him five years ago. “Well, how’s my little man today?” he asked. Ben sat down and looked in the op posite direction, having spoken to the gentleman as he came in. The man repeated his question, and then Ben answered: "Indeed, Mr. Smith, I have not seen your little man and would not know him if I saw him.” “Ben,” his father thundered, “why don’t you answer Mr. Smith politely when he asks about your health?” “Oh, I beg your pardon,” said Ben, in a very dignified voice. “I am very well, thank you.” But Mr. Smith discovered at last that Ben was grown up. Electrical Volts. A Columbus (Ind.) man called a newspaper office there to get some election news. He wished to know how many states had given their elec toral votes to Hughes and how many had gone for Wilson. He did a little mental arithmetic and then asked an other question. Here it is: “Well, how many electrical volts are there, anyhow?” He probably was a brother to the Indianapolis man who called to learn whether his favorite “had enough col lateral notes to win.”—Indianapolis News. The tree does not fall at the first stroke. Stuck Strictly to Facts. Some people are too literal for any thing. A young man gave a graphic description of a narrow escape that he had recently had from an enraged bull: “I seized him by the tail!’’ he ex claimed; “an’ there I was. I was afraid to hold on, and I dare not let go.’’ “Between the horns of a dilemma, as it were,” ventured a young lady, very much interested. “No,” replied the young man; “I wasn’t between the horns at all; an’ besides, he wasn’t a dilemma; he was a Jersey. Lack of Confidence. “Mrs. Twobble and I will go to the polls together,” said Mr. Twobble. “That’s a fine example for other mar ried people.” “Perhaps so, but Mrs. Twobble Is such a suspicious woman she’s afraid I’ll take advantage of the secret bal lot and not vote the way she’s told me to.” \ Bodily Housekeeping (BY V. M. PIEUCE, M. D.) The subject of drinking water with meals has been misunderstood. In recent years investigation by means of X-rays, the observations or scientists such as Cannon, Crutzner, Pavlov, Fowler, Hawk, prove that an abundance of water taken di gestion is necessary in good bodily housekeeping. If your kidneys are sick, or you suf fer with lumbago or rheumatism at times, pain in the back or back of the aeck take a little Anurlc before meals. This' can be found at any good drug store. Therefore my advice to young oi old is, always drink plenty of pure water. And for long life, occasionally take tablets of Anurlc three or four times a day. Anurlc acts much more quickly than llthia. Many find it dissolves nric acid a» water does sugar. SUFFERED SEVERE rAlWa Maywood, Nebr.—"Last fall I was almost broken dow-n in health. I could hardly stand to do my house work. I would get so tired that I could hardly take another step, and my night’s rest did not refresh me very much. A friend loaned me the •Common Sense Medical Adviser’ and after reading part of it I decided to try Dr. Pierce’s Favorite Prescription and Golden Medical Discovery. I took six bottles of the former and five of the latter and I felt like myself again. I have much faith in the ‘Favorite Pre- ■ scription’ for woman’s trouble, as lt^ i has done me a world of good.’’—MBS. L. VANDERHEIDEN. Favorite Prescription and Golden Medical Discovery can be obtained at any drug store in either liquid or tat> lets. They have the guarantee of 4U m years behind them, and do not contain M alcohol nor narcotics. Ingredients are m printed on wrapper.—Adv. iV J ■I—rlTTI
