A Regular Hell.
An Irishman In hardest luck
Had tramiwd through many states.
And everywhere was badly stuck—
Against him were the Kates.
His tattered clothes were quite a sight.
His thin, starved body too.
For nowhere could he get a bite
Or auy work to da
He reached a city though one day
And tried to beg a meal,
But every person turned away
1 heir anger to conceal.
He asked for work, he was refused.
For bread, refused again.
Until he felt himself abused
By ail the city rueu.
While passing by a junk shop which
A sheeny pedlar owns.
He saw the fellow had got rich
On buying rags and bones.
Fat thought, a while, and then went In
To interview the Jew,
And try an honest meal to win
As beggers oft will do.
"Good morning sir," said Pat inside
, ‘‘Bo you buy rags and bones?"
"Vv yes, of course" the Jew replied
"Dots vy dls store I owns!"
"Well then," said Pat, “my luck prevails
For once in many a day,
Be jabers! put me on the scales
And see bow much I weigh!"
II. L. Beamish.
Jim Meadows’ Hobby.
. A CHARACTER SKETCH.
!NB did I know Jim
Meadows? Well, 1
rather guess I did.
The Lord only made
a few like him, and
L reckon the model’s
broken long ago.”
Cal. Swauley heaved
■ IB Mi u_l I uccp JVIIUVIVV.U
the ashes from the bowl of his corncob
pipe and laid it on the table near him.
His two companions, fellow occupants
of the “bar parlor” in the Palacel Intel,
looked at Cal. interrogatively, which
plainly meant that they expected him
to impart further information.
It could be seen, however, that Cal.
was intent upon telling m story
whether they wished it or not, so his
audience of two settled themselves in
their cosy chairs and prepared to lis
ten.
“Seems to me I can see Jim Mead
ows right now,” continued Cal., after
a pause, “though he has been dead
and gone nigh on five years. He
wasn't what you might call a hand
some man, though lie was quite passa
ble in looks, but the expression on his
face used to attract everybody almost
at sight. It was just plain good na
ture, benevolence, generosity, or
whatever you call it, and it was
written right across his face clear as
daylight. J im was a poor man once—
poor as Lazarus, but even then he
used to have a reputation for doing
uncommon kind acts. They say that
when one of his chums, who had a
large family to keep, fell sick of the
fever, Jim worked overtime for two
weeks and did that fellow's work so
that the wife and children would not
be in want. Children used to run af
ter him and climb upon his shoulders
everywhere he went, and many a lot
of fruit and candy did he buy for ju
venile crowds that followed him.
Among llie youngsters in the town he
was popularly known as Santa Claus,
doubtless on account of his goodness
of heart.
“Well, one day came the news that
Jim Meadows had grown suddenly
rich. A distant relative of his had
died in Australia, leaving to Jim as
next of kin a vast property, said to be
worth $100,000. To those who knew
the man it was a foregone conclusion
what would become of most of
the money. Not that Jim was any
kind of a fool in spending. He was
not a drinking man at all, and of
course had no luxurious habits.
But his great desire in life as a poor
man was to relieve the wants of hu
manity, to succor the needy, care for
the sick and cheer the unfortunate.
As a rich man, therefore, it was but
natural that he should put his pet
schemes into practice, yet he had his
own peculiar way about doing it.
Knowing his disposition, the direc
tors of local charities were not slow in
approaching him with appeals for aid
to help swell their funds for the poor,
but, to the surprise of all, .T im met
their overtures with quiet but firm
refusals.
iiowmucu win l suoscrioe. gen
temen? Not a red cent,’ he would
say emphatically. ‘Four ways of
feeding the poor and mine differ. No
deserving person who needs assistance
need wait ten days for it if he or she
comes to me. You listen to the plead
ings of a starving widow and her chil
dren and tell them, in a matter of fact,
business kind of way, ‘We will have
your case investigated as early as pos
sible and then determine what assis
tance we can give you.’ And in the
meantime she and her children may
starve to death—she may be in her
coffin when you have concluded your
‘investigation.’ I don't believe in
theoretical charity. It must be quick,
spontaneous, hearty, practical, or it
don’t amount to a hill of beans.’
“And he wasn't going to squander
any money on building or endowing
churches, "either. Schools he would
help, but it was the real, hard work
ing, deserving poor that Jim loved to
aid. and he claimed that they wanted
their stomachs filled, and their bodies
clothed, in a bigger kind of a hurry
than they yearned to sit in pews and
fall asleep over dull sermons.
“Ilut from the day the lawyers de
posited Jim’s money in the bank for
him, and gave him the pretty little
check book to draw whatever sums he
wanted, Meadows made it a practice
to go around the poorer districts of
the town and inquire into the wants
and condition of the people. He was
like an angel wherever he went,
spreading sunshine and happiness
in places where he found gloom and
sorrow.
“Did Jim hear of a case of sickness
where the family was too poor to af
ford a doctor? He had one there
pret ty quick, and the physician was
commissioned to let no expense bar
the way to good diet for the invalid.
“Did he hear of a death in any house
where funeral expenses could not be
raised, or would be ill afforded? He
assumed the responsibility himself
and paid all the undertaker's bills.
“Did he hear of an honest bread-win
ner out of work and with a family
looking to him for bread? He took
care they had bread,aye,and buttertoo.
for both butcher and grocer received
orders to supply the family with such
necessaries as were required.
“Did a good and respectable work
man need tools before he could start
a job? Jim bought them for him.
And he never was known to meet a
boy or girl upon the street whose
shoes or clothing indicated distressful
poverty, but their wants in the way
of garments were promptly attend
ed to.
“Love him! Bless your hearts, there
wasn't a man in all the State more
loved than Jim Meadows, and if the
prayers of the widow, the orphan, the
sick and unemployed have any weight
in heaven, there's enough of’em up
there to offset any sins the poor fellow
was ever guilty of.
“He used to take the keenest sort of
delight in doing good on the quiet, and
in unexpected ways. Ever hear of the
way he paid off his old score against
Tom Moody, the foreman down at
Gaspers’? Well, it was this way. Jim
and Tom were courting the same girl
—the one that is Mrs. Moody now.
Tom was of a jealous disposition and
began to be very bitter against Jim
when he found he was after his
girl. So he used his mean influence
down at the factory and Jim was
thrown out of work without any rea
son. Soon after that he had his for
tune left him, and just about that
time Gaspers got in difficulties and
they had to shut down the factory the
very week after Tom had married.
Moody hadn’t saved any money for
a rainy day, and as a consequence
he and his new bride were face to face
with poverty and starvation. Yes,
and how d’ye think Jim Meadows got
in his revenge on Tom for the mean
trick he had played on him? He just
rented a cosy little house, put §'>00
worth of furniture in it, and pre
sented it with a year’s rent receipt, to
Mr. and Mrs. Moody as “a gift from
an old friend.” That's the sort of man
Jim Meadows was.
‘Tie never dressed stylishly or even
expensively himself. The plainest
kitid of clothes were good enough for
him. If he was ever told that his
coat looked shabby he would quietly
say, “Well, I can’t afford a new one
this month,” but he would very likely
buy a new suit that very day for some
poor devil or another who needed
clothing badly. He was frugal in his
eating, but nothing was too good for
any invalid in whom he took an inter
est.
■Mini usea 10 go to tne ponce court
nearly every morning, nob out of a
morbid curiosity, but just to see what
good lie could do the poor wretches
who often find their way there. Many
a fine he has paid out of his own
pocket to seta prisoner free, but he
never showed any sympathy for a real
criminal unless there seemed to be ev
idence of a desire to reform. He had
a kindly word for all. but his was not
mere verbal sympathy, his practical
charity went hand in hand with his
cheering disposition.
“One night he saved a young girl
from suicide. She was one of the
class that so-called honest folks turn
up their noses at, but nobody was too
low for Jim to lift up if he could doit.
That girl was tired of her life of
shame and wanted to end it in the
river, and she would have succeeded if
Jim had not happened by at the time
and rescued her. She was brought up
at the police court after leaving the
hospital, but Jim secured her dis
charge and placed her in charge of a
laundry which he had started for just
such poor creatures as she. She has
led a good life ever since and owns
that laundry now herself, but she has
never worn anything except black since
J im Meadows died, and she says she
never will.
“Once he was told of a poor but
proud family, who were living in a
somewhat fashionable locality. They
had suffered severe reverses and, al
though brought up in a luxurious way,
were now living on almost bread
alone. The head of the house was
dead; the eldest son had been the sole
support of his mother and three sis
ters since their loss of property, but
for the past six weeks he also had been
incapacitated for work by illness.
Though desperately poor and on the
verge of starvation, these people, it
was known, were too dignilied and
proud to accept charity, so wliat does
Jim do but take a few directories to
the house and beg the three young la
dies to copy the names and addresses
for him at $10 a week each. He
claimed that' he was in a hurry for the
work, but he kept them at it nearly
six weeks, and it is said that when
their labors were completed Jim just
piled the manuscripts away in an old,
tool chest, where they were found
years afterwards all mildewed and
useless. That's the sort of man Jim
Meadows was.
i itt . _1 • 1 l. _ J' O T*T - VI J
UiU at UiV, . MUl HUH, in UV)CO
seem a shame that a fellow like Jim I
ever should die, but the fact is his big
fortune dwindled away by reason of
his prodigal generosity, and in eight
years every cent was gone. Jim was
no business man. He had been so
much occupied in providing for others
that he had forgotten to provide for
himself. He never looked after his
financial affairs, but just kept draw
ing money out as he needed it and giv
ing it away right and left. So in the
end of course the crash came, and Jim
was as poor as ever. He went to work
at his old trade, but the thought that
lie could no longer benefit his fellow
man as he used to, preyed upon his
mind. He could not bear to look up
on suffering and be unable to relieve
it. and so, in the course of a very few
months, the worry broke down his
health, and after a brief spell he died,
and Ills last act was to will all his lit
tle personal effects to the poor cobbler
who had attended on him in his final
days.
“A funeral! Gosh, sucliaone as that
was! There were more real mourners
followed Jim to the grave, more tear
stained faces and sorrowing hearts in
that sad procession than ever attend
ed any funeral of king, statesman or
philosopher. There wasn't a spark of
selfishness in Jim's whole nature. All
he thought about was helping others,
and the grief-stricken crowds that
stood around in that cemetery and
sobbed aloud in their anguish
when that coffin was lowered into the
grave, had experienced his generosity
themselves. The city put » monu
ment over his head, but bah! what's a
piece of cold marble amount to? His
name is engraved indelibly in the
hearts of thousands, and they will
hardly ever tire of telling their chil
dren and grandchildren in coming
years the sort of man Jim Meadows
was.” J. S. G.
Quite True.
“Don't you think that liberated
convict, is like a period?”
“In what way?”
“He's at the end of a sentence.”
Anecdotes of Actors.
W RI TER says that
no vocation in life
is so susceptible to
the influence of wit
and humor as that
of the actor. The
stage is practically
tiie distributor of
amusement, so it is
but natural that its votaries should
excel in tiie production of entertaining
stories and anecdotes. Many volumes
have been published which were de
voted to tiie bright sayings and witty
repartee of famous actors, but a few
hitherto unpublished anecdotes of
living Thespians may prove both new
and interesting.
In Nat Goodwin’s early days in the
profession lie had the misfortune to
work under a manager who was much
addicted to drink, arid who, in such
cases, became very irritable and quar
relsome. When laboring under the
influence, it was not unusual for him
to discharge the whole statf, from star
down to property man, but of course
the company took little notice of
these spasmodic ebullitions of temper,
as they were pretty well used to him.
One night this manager, while mo
rosely nursing one of his periodical
“jags” came across Goodwill in the
green room.
“See here, Goodwin,” said lie, try
ing to steady himself, and closing one
eye so as to get the right focus on the
comedian. “I’ve a d-d good notion
to discharge you on the spot!”
“No doubt,” replied Nat calmly,
“and perhaps you would if you were
sober enough to find the spot!”
Roland Read boasts of a nasal organ
which is certainly not obscure. He
has been frequently twitted about his
prominent feature, but never more
rudely than one winter’s day when an
acquaintance accosted him on Broad
way with, “Hallo, Reed, I met your
nose on tiie other block and it looked
awfully cold. ”
tjan i> I hi p u, iny [joy, replied
the comedian without stopping, “I
scratched it as far as I could reach!”
Walter Q. Seabrooke was formerly a
bank clerk in Mt. Vernon, N. Y. The
first position he secured on the stage
was at a very lenient salary and he
sometimes found it difficult to make
ends meet. A Wall Street broker
owed him a little money, and one day
Seabrooke went to see him with the
intention of collecting. While pa
tiently waiting in an ante-room foran
interview, another gentleman, evi
dently a stranger, came in in some
what of a hurry and asked, “Excuse
me, are you the broker?” “No,” re
plied Seabrooke doggedly, “but I’m
the fellow that is broke!”
When Henry E. Iiixey was playing
at the Gaiety Theatre in London he
gave a very successful and artistic im
personation of Henry Irving, the pop
ular English tragedian. A certain
section of the Cockney play-goers re
sented Dixey's burlesque, clever as it
was. To make fun of Henry Irving
seemed almost sacrilegious. Said one
bitter critic to Iiixey, sarcastically,
“But of course you are bound to intro
duce that part, as your caricature of
Irving is the only ‘meat’ you have
in the play.” “Yes, that’s so,” replied
Adonis sadly, “and I’m bound to make
game of him, you see!”
He Wolf Hopper, of “Wang” and
“Panjandum” fame, as those who
have seen him will remember, pos
sesses a pair of wonderfully long legs,
which he uses to good purpose in his
grotesque and amusing dances. On
one occasion the comedian had to
travel from the depot to his hotel in
the regular stage, which was nearly
crowded. The man opposite to Hop
per complained loudly about the lat
ter's knees and rather rudely ex
claimed, “Your darned legs fill the
whole car. ” “That’s nothing,” re
plied Hopper cheerfully, “they fre
quently fill the whole house!”
JOHN KINGSTON.
Reciprocity.
We were friends of long years standing,
Jimmy Jones and I. perforce,
With a friendship still expanding
By continued intercourse.
Till we met a lovely creature
Like an angel from above.
Beautiful in every feature—
With her we both fell in love.
Jimmy won her—won her fairly.
Though I strove to gain her hand
With such loving words as rarely
I w;is able to command.
Jimmy married her, and placed her
In a mansion neat and trim,
When her bridal costume graced her—
Heavens how I envied Jim!
Years have passed, and I’m still single,
Fancy free, enjoying life.
With my friends I daily mingle
Ail unmoved by worldly strife.
Jimmy’s grown quite thin and weary.
Quite a saddened man to see—
Married life to him is dreary—
Mercy, how he envies me!
Frank Perrett.
Some Notes on Etiquette.
Don't walk in a stooping posture in
public places. It shows lad form.
Never pass bad money in a street
car. It is not fare to the conductor.
Don't pick your teeth before com
pany. Go pick them by yourself and
pick the best you can get for the
money.
It is bad taste to eat peas with a
knife, but the peas will taste just as
good.
Do not try to kiss strange ladies on
the street or you might get a return
smack.
Don’t write letters to any girl but
your own. Courting is all right, but
not breach-of-promise courting.
Do not speak insolently to a bigger
man than yourself or the result may
be striking.
Never eat or drink more than you
can carry. You are liable to give
yourself a-weigh.
Do not sit opposite a lady in a pub
lic conveyance. She is likely to look
'cross at you.
It is not correct to swear before la
dies. If they want to swear first, let
them do it.
Don't try to have the last word, es
pecially with your wife. That is her
prerogative.
Never strike a man when he is down.
When he gets up again he might
knock the stuffing out of you.
Don’t say "No. thank you.” when a
fellow offers you a 25-cent cigar. It is
rude, besides being untruthful. C. S.
Bulh Alike.
Jersey.—What became of the ras
cal who bit a piece out of Chumley’s
arm?
Meadows.—He was bound over to
keep the peace.
And what did they do to Chumley’s
arm?
That was bound over to keep the
piece too!
Not Good Enough.
"Keep your own counsel;*' the words urea
warning
To all who are apt to be free with the
tongue,
Do not such wise admonition l>o scorning—
Ponder it deeply, life’s duties among.
"Keep your own counsel;" the motto Is
chiefly
Meant for the people who chatter too loud,
A bit of advice that is given ouite briefly
To speak not too much of yourself in a
crowd.
"Koep your own counsel;’* *tis wiser and
better
Not to talk much of your private affairs,
Gossip is certain to be the begetter
Of doubts and misgivings, of troubles and
cares.
"Keep your own counsel;"—'that is, if you're
able.
Mine charges very extravagant fees,
And I doubt, if he’d sat isfled feel at my table.
Or whether my bank-book his wants could
appease.
John H. True.
What She Says When Kissed.
Boston girl—Mr. Bunkerhill, your
conduct shocks me beyond utterance.
New York girl—Thanks awfully,
don’t you know.
Providence girl—Oh. mamma!
Philadelphia girl—Are you sure no
body saw us?
Baltimore girl—Dear George!
Washington Girl—Well, I suppose
I'll have to pardon you.
Pittsburg girl—Oh Harry!
Cincinnati girl—What bad form!
Indianapolis girl—Ah. there!
Chicago girl—More! More!
Detroit girl—Well, I declare!
Louisville girl—Yum. yum!
St. Louis girl—How shocking!
Nashville girl—On! Ool
Atlanta girl—Golly!
New Orleans girl—Oh. my!
Kan. City girl—Breakaway, there!
Denver girl—Gosh!
San Francisco girl—Rats!
Texas girl—Wlioop la!
Every girl—Oh, don't!
Bad Thing to Walk On.
Joe.—Talk about fasting! Why
Jilkins walked 27 miles the other day
on an empty stomach!
Jim.—Why didn't lie use his feet
instead of his stomach?
Sized Her Up.
“Do you think I am a nice girl?”
asked Edith of her lover, as she leaned
her 160 pounds on him while they sat i n
the armchair.
“Nice? Bless you, dear, I think you
are immense!” replied the youth fer
vently.
Smiling Room Needed.
The fellow who laughs in his sleeve
Should have, we must presume,
If we the statement would believe,
A lot of “elbowroom.”
It is Given Him.
The judge may be in greatest haste,.
The jury be quite hurried,
The counsel have no time to waste
And the witnesses be flurried,
The ushers and spectators, too,
May think delay a crime,
But the convict one thing has to do
And that is, “take, his time.”
A Pressing Engagement.
Maud—Just look at Arthur kissing
and hugging his cousin Julia!
Mamie—Yes, I knew they were un
friendly.
“Unfriendly? What do you mean?”
“Case of ‘stminal relations’^ isn’t it?”
A Cniqne Firm.
Jackson—I am dealing exclusively!
at Neverblow’s now. It is the most
reliable house in the country to-day.
Thompson—IIow do you make t hat
appear?
“They don’t claim to have got a
prize medal at the World's Fair.”
In tlie Green Room.
Leading Gent—The stage manag
er has cast that new fellow for Ham
let.
Low Comedian—What on earth
for?
“He said he was hungry for bread,
so they gave him a heavy role.”
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iwritk!
S for Dr. Miles' Bunk on Nervi sis ami Heart
J Diseases entitled “Xetc and Start line/ S
< Facta.” Everyone should hare and read it {j
! Address the I'resUlent of the
»| DR. niLES nEDICAL CO., Elkhart, Ind. j
Facts About the Heart
Surprising as it may seem, diseases
of two of tiie most vital portions of
the human body have received but
little attention from medical writers
and investigators. They are those of
the heart and nervous system. The
former is the hardest worked organ of
tiie body, whose duty it is to keep
every part of the human frame con
stantly supplied witli the vital tluid
called the blood, and the moment this
important organ ceases to heat deat li
ensues, while in tiie nervous system
reside not only the mind hut the seat
of life, and upon its condition depend
tiie health and activity of the whole
or a part of the body. So delicate is
the nervous system and so intimately
is it connected witli the heart, that
the prick of a needle, in the upper
portion of tiie spinal cord, where ilio
roots of tin: nerve which controls the
action of tiie heart are located, will
cause instant death.
Weaknesses and diseases of this or
gan are therefore exceedingly impor
tant, as well as common. High au
thorities state that one person in four
lias a defective heart, while those of a
whole family are often imperfect, and
what is more surprising is that two
thirds of the persons thus affected are
not aware of the fact, but in their ig
norance, attribute 1 lie symptoms of a
diseased heart, such as shortness of
breath, palpitation, pain in the chest,
etc., to other causes. And what is
more strange still, physicians com
monly make the same mistake. In
the first stages of heart disease they
almost universally fall into this fatal
error, because too little is taught con
cerning this all important organ in
our medical colleges. The symptoms
of heart disease are given below, and
should be carefully read by everyone.
(scarcely a uauy paper cun ue iounri
that does not contain a notice of the
sudden death, from heart disease, of
some prominent person who was
stricken down without warning while
apparently in the best of health and
bodily vigor. But this condition was
only apparent; premonitory symptoms
had long existed but were not recog
nized, or were attributed to some
other affection, as were those of Gen
eral Sheridan in his lirst attack, when
physicians treated him for derange
ment of the stomach, but which sub
sequently proved to be organic disease
of the heart. Few physicians are
aware of the fact that heart disease is
a frequent cause of functional and or
ganic disorders of the stomach, lungs
and kidneys. Few persons die of
chronic disease af the heart whose
stomachs, if examined, would not be
found to be affected. The frequent
and fatal error is in mistaking the ef
fect for the cause.
The heart is a hollow muscle situ
ated between the lungs, a little to the
left of the centre of the chest. Jri the
adult it is about five inches long, three
and a half wide and two and a half
thick. The average weight in man is
three-fourths of a pound, while in wo
man it is two-thirds. It is divided in
to halves, the right and the left.
Each side is sub-divided into two cav
ities.
The right side of the heart receives
the dark blood from the veins of the
body, and forces it into the lungs to
become purified by coming in contact
with the air. While in the lungs the
blood throws off carbonic acid gas and
absorbs oxygen. This process changes
the dark red blood to a bright red. It
then returns to the heart,entering the
left side; from thence it is forced
through t he arteries to all parts of the
body. The heart contains four sets of
valves. Two of these separate t he up
per and lower cavities of each side.
These, like the valve, or sucker in a
pump, perform an important duty.
From this necessarily brief descrip
tlon It will be seen that this impor
tant, organ is quite a coniplhalted ma
chine, and like all other complicated
apparat us may readily get out of or
der, which, experience shows, it often
does. Yes, a great deal oftener than
people usually imagine. A little In
vestigation will convince anyone that
there is ample reason why it should,
when it is remembered that the heart
is but a hollow muscle, and by far the
most wonderful and hn|M>rtant in t he
Imdy, and that it works incessantly
from the beginning to the end of life.
Day and night it labors without rest,
performing such an ntoniioux uounoit of
work as to be almost beyond belief.
Physiologists inform usthat with each
pulsation, or coni ruction, of the heart,
it, exerts 50 pounds of force, which
amount s to 3,<iU0 a minute, 210,000 an
hour, and f lie inconceivable number
of 5,184,000 in a single day 1 Now, it
is necessary that all this vast amount
of labor should be done, and well done,
every d;yr. if not, the health will
surely sutler in consequence of the
least failure on t lie part of the heart
to perform its duties.
When it is rememliered that the
lungs are often weak, as are the eyes,
stomach, liver, kidneys, and in fact
every organ, is it, al all surprising that
such a hard worked organ as this one
should also become weak or diseased?
Again, is it astonishing that when in
jured by overwork, when exhausted by
Hie use of coffee, tobacco and other
heart stimulants, or by tight clothing,
which interferes with its expansion,
rendering its labors more dillieuit, or
by many other causes t hat might be
given, would space permit, that the
heart becomes weak or diseased? Nor
is it strange that, when thus weakened
and exhausted it should suddenly give
out in consequence of any undue men
tal or physical st rain, and the posses
sor drop dead. This can perhaps be
intelligently explained by comparing
it with the eye.
uonirary lo Lite general supposition,
lieart disease is as readily bcnetittcd by
judicious treatment us disease of any
ot her organ. When peoplelearn to rec
ognize tlie symptoms of this dread de
stroyer, they will then readily discover
that there are as many defective
hearts as there are eyes, lungs, stom
achs, kidneys and wombs. It there
fore behooves everybody to carefully
investigate this interesting and im
portant subject.
There are two classes of heart dis
ease: First, the nervous or functional.
Second, tlie organic, those in which
the form or substance of the heart is
changed. These two classes are not,
as the majority of physicians suppose,
distinctly separated from each other.
The nervous class is, according to I)r.
Miles’ extensive experience in t reating
heart disease, often only i lie lirst stage
of the organic class. Or, at least, ner
vous heart troubles, are so frequently
followed, in the course of time, by the
worst and most fatal forms of disease
as to show that nervous affections
strongly predispose to form the first
stage of the disease. Dr. Miles has
kept for years careful record of the
cases treated by him, It includes in
herited tendencies and the very lirst
symptoms of weakness of the heart
observed by the patients. Of thous
ands of cases thus recorded by the
Doctor, most of the worst ones began
with tlie nervous symptoms, which
physicians decided were merely due
to the stomach or liver.
All who experience any of the fol
lowing symptoms should promptly se
cure relief.
Shortness of Breath, Fluttering or
Palpitation, Pains in Left Breast,
Side, Shoulder or Arm. Neuralgia or
Intermittent Pains, Oppressed Feel
ing in Chest, Choking Sensation in
Throat, Weak or Hungry Spells,
Dreaming or Nightmare, Smothering
Spells, Difficult or Asthmatic Breath
ing, Swelling of the Feet or Ankles,
etc., etc.
HEART DISEASE
is incurable according to most doctors, but recent
discoveries have proved that the contrary is true. In
medical knowledge there has been rapid progress,
the acme of success was reached in the discovery of
DR. MILES’ NEW HEART CURE,
which not only relieves heart troubles of every kind
promptly, but in almost every case effects a per
manent cure. Letters are being daily received tes
tifying to the marvelous cures that it has
made in cases where the sufferers had been given up to
die. No matter how bad or chronic the case may
be, “where there is Dr. Miles’ Heart Cure there is
hope.” For sale by all druggists at £1 per bottle,
or will be sent on receipt of price, prepaid, by the
DR. MILES MEDICAL CO., Elkhart, Indiana.
ELKHART CARRIAGE and HARNESS MFG. CO.
$11.00
No. 37. Surrey Harness.
No.718H>, Top Buggy.
$43.00 ^,
Msisi
Have *oid to consumer* lor *1 years,
saving them the dealer’s profit. We are the
Oldest and Largest manufactnrers in Amer
ica selling Vehicles and Harness this way—ship
with privilege to examine before any money Is
paid. We pay freight both ways If not satisfac
tory. Warrant for 2 years. Why pay an agent ?10
to 150 to order for you? Write your own order.
Boxing free. We take all risk of damage in
shipping.
WHOLESALE PRICES.
Spring Wagons, S3I to S50. Guaranteed
same as sell fortSOtot&a. Surreys. S65toSIOO
Bame as sell for 1100 to ti.'A Top Buggies.
S37.50, as fine as sold for 165. Phaatons,S66
to SlOO. Farm Wagons, Wagonettes,
Milk Wagons, Delivery Wagons and Road
Carts. BICYCLES FOB MEN, WOMEN * CHILDREN.
__
Our
Harness
are bold at
Manufac
turer's
Prices.
Single.
$6 to *‘40
Double
Iiuggv,
*1M~*85
Farm.
*1 6 to
I2S.&0.
$75
sikTi
No. 7S1, Surrey.
_ A26
No. 727, Eoad Wagon.
No. 3, Farm Wagon.
no. i, riirm
^ HIDING PADDLE* and FLY NETS.
8 percent, off for oa«h with order. Pend 4c. in
atampM to pay postage on 112-page catalogue.
Address W. B. PRATT, Sec’y,
- Liar - ■ 1 ■
Elkhart Bicycle, 28ln.wheels,
pneumatic tires, weldlesa
steel tubing, drop filings.
ELKHART, IND.
All illustrations and signed articles in this cover are Copyrighted. 189.}.
