A Rebounding Knock
?t Opportunity's Door!
It might be a good thing if those
people who wuit so patiently tor
opportunity to knock at their door
would give a good hard knock at
opportunity's door. This Micaw
berlike attitude of always wait
ing for smething to turn up has
its drawbacks. While these wait
ers are biding their time at home,
others are out carving their des
tiny by virtue of their own hands
and talents. Like many other
proverbs, the saying that "op
portunity knocks once at every
man's door" has been abused. Op
portunity is more often found by
those who go looking for it. ?
Voice Writing.
v
To Alkalize
Add Indigestion
Away Fast
People Everywhere Are Adopting
This Remarkable " Phillips" Way
The way to gain almost incredibly
quick relief, from itx>mach condition
arising from overaciditv, is to alka
lize the stomach quickly with Phil
lips' Milk of Magnesia.
You take either two teaspoons of
the liquid Phillips' after meals; or
two Phillips' Milk of Magnesia Tab
lets. Almost instantly "acid indiges
tion" goes, gas from hyperacidity,
"acid - headaches" ? from over-in
dulgence in food or smoking ? and
nausea are relieved. You feel made
?ver; forget you have a stomach.
Try this Phillips' way if you have
any acid stomach upsets. Get either
the liquid "Phillips or the remark
able, new Phillips Milk of Magnesia
Tablets. Only 251 for a big box of
tablets at drug stores.
ALSO IN TAftlFT FORM I
Phillips'
MILK OP
MAGNESIA
When Our Parents Pass On
When our parents are living we
feel that they stand between us
and death; when they are gone, we
ourselves are in the forefront of
the battle.
AT LAST
A COIGH RELIEF? THAT
ALSO SPEEDS RECOVERY
Remember the name! It's FOLEY'S HONEY
& TAR! Double-acting. One set of ingredients
quickly soothes, relieves tickling , hacking , cough
ing . . . ooets irritated throat linings to keep
you from ooughing. Another set reacbee the
bronchial tubes, loosens phlegm, helps break up
a oough due to a cold and speeds recovery. For
A TAR. Idmlfor children, too. Got E bottle today.
Nobleness Refines
Any nobleness begins at once to
refine a man's features, any mean
ness or sensuality to imbrute
them. ? Thoreau. \
Health-Wracking Functional
PAINS
Severe functional pains of men
struation, cramping spells and jan
gled nerves soon rob a woman of her
natural, youthful freshness. PAIN
lines In a woman's face too often
grow Into AGE lines!
Thousands of women have found
It helpful to take Cardul. They say
It seemed to ease their pains, and
they noticed an Increase In their
appetite? and finally a strengthened
resistance to the discomfort of
monthly periods.
Try Cardul. Of course If it doesn't
help you, see your doctor.
WNU ? 4 3 ? 37
Rid Yourself of
Kidney Poisons
P\0 you suffer burning, scanty of
L/ too frequent urination; backache,
headache, diuine*, loo oi energy,
leg pains, swellings and puffineis
under the eyes? Are you tired, nerv
om ? (eel all ambling and don't
know what is wrong?
Then give loae thought to your
kidneys. Be wre they (unction proper
ly (or functional kidney dhotder per
mit! excess waste to stay in the blood,
and to poison and upset the whole
system.
Use Dean's Pills. Doan's are (or the
kidneys only. They are recommended
the world over. Yoe can get 4ie gen
uine, tin lailaJ Doan's at any areg
store. ?
Doans Pills
MURDER MASQUERADE!
By
INEZ HAYNES IRWIN
Copyri?kt Inu Hlrnu Inrfe
WNU Serric*.
WEDNESDAY
? 14 ?
My sleep Tuesday night was so
soft and sweet? it was the rock
garden I am sure which produced
this result ? that when Sarah Darbe
brought my tray into my room, I
was conscious first of self-reproach.
I thought at once of Bessie. "Oh
Sarah," I exclaimed, "I feel more
like myself today than I have since
Saturday. How did Bessie sleep?"
"Not at all well, Mrs. Avery,"
Sarah declared. "Whatever it was
that Doctor Geary gave her, it
wasn't strong enough. She sort of
dozed off the first part of the night,
but she waked up before midnight
and I think she walked the floor
the whole rest of tl yt soght.
Inside someth^fg seemed to
break off from my psychology and
disappear in the depths of my
mind. As though that mind-slide
revealed a writing on a wall, con
viction took hold of me, held me
close. "Something will be done,
Sarah. Call up Doctor Geary at
once and tell him that Bessie slept
no better last night than the night
before. Tell him to come again."
After Hopestill had departed for
tennis with Caro and after Sylvia
and Nancy Burton had withdrawn
to their favorite playground, I
found myself sitting idly in a chair,
waiting. It was no use to start
working in my old garden. It was
no use to start working in my new
garden. For I knew that the instant
I got started, Patrick O'Brien
would arrive. I did not mind his
coming day after day like this. I
welcomed it. And so, all I said
when Patrick came into the room,
was, "Good morning, comrade!
I've been waiting for you."
For the first time, Patrick
showed signs of inward stress. His
face was as fresh as ever, but his
eyes looked a little hollow,
"Is there anything new today?"
I asked.
"I'm giving my whole thought
now to finding out who it was, if
any one, hiding in the bushes when
Margaret Fairweather left the
Spinney. If I can lay my hands on
that guy, I think I've got the thing
sewed up. You see it's getting pret
ty close to midnight now. I've been
over Mattie Stow's list backwards,
forwards, sidewards and every
which way. I've been over the list
of people who live on the Head,
similarly. I've talked with every
member of the force until they've
begged me to lay off them. They
saw Tony's car come over the
Head and saw it go back. They
saw Walter Treadway and Molly
leave in her car. They did not see
them come back. And there you
are. Nobody has mentioned see
ing Margaret ? except Tony. But
that was easy enough. The force
didn't extend down to her house
and she, all in black and the moon
behind a cloud, could easily enough
slip along the road into the path
which led into your Spinney. I'm
going around in circles, Mary.
Nothing I think of makes sense."
"No," I agreed, "nothing has
seemed to make sense so far and
yet every day something occurs
that makes the whole situation a
little clearer."
"Yes. I think of that a lot. And
it helps to think of it."
At this precise moment, Sarah
entered the room. There was a
strange look on her face. For the
first time in my life I saw Sarah
Darbe frightened.
"Mrs. Avery," Sarah said, "Bes
sie has just asked me to ask you
if she could come in and talk with
you and Mr. O'Brien."
I looked for what seemed a long
interval straight into Sarah's eyes.
By this time, Sarah had got her
self under control. Never has that
affectionate gaze met mine with
so neutral an expression.
"Tell her to come in!" Patrick
and I said together.
In a moment the two girls ap
peared in the doorway. I had been
shocked by Bessie's appearance the
day before, but I was doubly
shocked now. Her face had gone
dead.
"Sit down, Bessie," I said.
Sarah Darbe started to leave the
room. "Don't go, Sarah!" Bessie
screamed and then immediately re
verting to her normal soft-voiced
accents, "Can Sarah stay with me,
Mrs. Avery? It will make it so
much easier for me."
"Of course Sarah can stay, I
agreed. "Sarah, you sit on the
couch beside Bessie. I don't have
to warn you, I am sure, that you
must not speak unless Mr. O'Brien
addresses you."
"Oh I understand perfectly, Sar
ah Darbe assured me.
"You have something to tell me,
Bessie," Patrick said in his kind
est tone. He smiled. Never is
Patrick so Celtic as when he
smiles. I have never known a man
to be so beguilingly winsome. I
could see Bessie relax a little.
"Yes Mr. O'Brien, she faltered.
"Well now," Patrick said in a
wheedling tone, "tell me your story
in your own way. Tal ke the
time you want. Don t be fright
ened. I 'eel quite certain nothing ?
going to happen to you, Bewe. I
lee you think you can tell me
something that will help me in thia
matter. 1
for Bessie, I need ^ " r Z
strange?" he went on. Patrick
was rambling, but deliberately
rambling. I saw that he was try
ing to put Bessie at her ease.
"?how important little things are
sometimes in matters of this kind
and how unimportant big things.
Your story as a whole may not mean
anything. And yet there may be
one tiny fact that will point to oth
ers and they will point to still oth
ers, and before we know it ? bingo
? the whole mystery is solved. So
Bessie, as I said, tell your story
in your own way, but don't leave
out anything. Don't leave out things
that you think are unimportant."
By the time Patrick had finished
this address, Bessie was, I could
see, a little reassured. She was
ready to talk.
"Yes, Mr. O'Brien," she agreed
in a faint voice. "You see, Mr.
Q',Brien, what I have to tell you
and Mrs. Avery happened a long
time ago? oh in the spring. It was
Decoration day. I didn't say any
thing about it because, happen
ing so far back, it didn't seem to
me that it had anything to do with
?what happened to Doctor Blaikie.
But I got to thinking about it nights
and it worried me and worried me
and worried me. I couldn't sleep.
Doctor Geary gave me some medi
cine, but it didn't help any. I've
got to tell somebody! I've got to!
I've got to!" her voice ended on a
wail, but it had grown shriller.
Sarah reached out and took her
hand; she held it the rest of this
session.
Patrick spoke at once, "There!
There! There!" He soothed Bes
sie exactly as though she were a
teething baby. "That's all right.
They Saw Tony's Car Come Over
the Head and Saw It Go Back.
It's all gone now. You're going to
tell us what's on your mind and to
night you'll sleep like a top. Doc
tor Joe won't have to give you
anything tonight."
As though this inspirited her,
Bessie started her narrative, fair
ly composed too. "On Decoration
day I went with Big Hattie in her
car to the cemetery in Marsh
bank. She had some flowers to put
on her mother's grave. About four,
we stopped at the Cutter house.
Big Hattie wanted to see Jennie
Snow for a moment ? that's Mrs.
Cutter's maid. When she got there
she found that her cousin was call
ing on Jennie. She stopped to
talk with her. I couldr't stay, be
cause Sarah and I were going to
the early movies, so I started to
walk home. Instead of going by
the road I cut acrosj lots because
it saved time. Well, as I came
through Mr. Day's woods towards
Locust Lane I heard voices ? loud
voices. I listened and I recognized
the voices right off. They were
Doctor Blaikie and Walter Tread
way. Well, I didn't know what to
do. I didn't want to listen to white
folks fighting and I didn't want to
step out onto the road so's they'd
know I was there and I didn't want
to go back. So I stopped jess where
I was and waited for them to go
by."
"They were walking then," Pat
rick' put in. "Had they stopped?"
"Yes, walking and talking at
first," Bessie answered. "Then they
stopped where they was. But they
kept right on talking. Their voices
was pretty loud. I couldn't help
hearing every word they said."
"One moment Bessie," Patrick
interrupted again, "you say it waa
Doctor Blaikie and Walter Tread
way. Are you sure?"
"I saw them," Bessie said with
finality. "They passed right by me.
They didn't see me. They was
looking at each other. But I saw
them plain as could be."
"You're sure?" Patrick said qui
etly.
"I'm sure," Bessie replied.
"Go on!" Patrick ordered.
"Well, I think they was talking
about Miss Molly," Bessie went
on. "They didn't mention Miss Mol
ly's name but it couldn't have been
anybody else ? from what they said.
As I stopped, Mr. Treadway was
speaking. He said, "You'll never
marry her. By God, you'll never
marry her!" Doctor Blaikie says,
says he, 'And how are you going to
prevent it? You know what I can
do.' And Mr. Treadway says, says
ha, 1 don't know bow Fm going to
prevent it. All I know is that I am
going to prevent it? -if I have to kill
you. Ace B talkie!' Doctor Blaikie
?ays, says he, 'You haven't the guts
to kill anything, Walter, and you
know ttl'"
My mind snapped back to Wal- I
ter's well-known tenderness so far
as animals were concerned. He
was the only boy in his group who
would not hunt.
"Mr. Treadway said, said he,
'You'd be surprised what I could
kill to save her from you. And
I'll do it if it's necessary!' Then
they went past me down the road
and I couldn't hear a single word
more, but those words seemed to
burn into me. Yes, they burned in.
I've never been able to forget them.
When Doctor Blaikie was found
murdered, of course I thought of
them at once. I didn't want to
tell anybody. I was afraid it would
get Mr. Treadway into trouble. But
I had to tell. I couldn't go through
what I was going through any long
er."
Patrick's first comment was an
oblique one. "Now you feel bet
ter, Bessie," he said, "don't you?"
"I sure do, Mr. O'Brien," Bessie
agreed; and indeed her whole tense
figure had begim to relax; the tight
ness was flowing out of her look.
Patrick asked Bessie many ques
tions, but he approached them by
circuitous routes. He threw in com
ments by the way. He even told
stories. By the time he had fin
ished, one of Bessie's dimples had
actually reappeared. But he man
aged to make Bessie tell her story
three times and he had not man
aged to shake her in any detail.
That brief conversation between
Ace and Walter had indeed
"burned" into her.
"Well, now I guess you can go
back to the kitchen," Patrick con
cluded. "If you think of anything
further, please tell it to me. Other
wise, put it out of your mind. I
think you'll sleep all right tonight."
"And now, Mary," Patrick
turned to me, "I've got to get Wal
ter and Molly over here."
Patrick and I sat in complete si
lence the few minutes that, after
Patrick's telephone call, it took
Walter and Molly to get to my
house. Brief as the distance was,
they came in their car. Automat
ically I wondered, as I had so often
wondered before, if the younger
generation would ultimately lose the
use of its legs. But that wonder
merely filled the surface of my
mind. Underneath I was thinking
so many things that virtually I
thought of no one thing. My
thoughts cut and slashed and jagged
each other in their maniacal way
of the last few days. Over them
all too, like the poison gas over a
modern battlefield, hung a cloud of
sick foreboding. The effect of my
sweet night's sleep seemed to dis
appear. Again I felt myself trem
bling on a huge abyss.
What Patrick thought, I don't
know. He sat with his head back,
gazing at the ceiling of the room,
his face blanked with his grimmest
expression.
Presently Molly s roadster curved
up to the door. "There they are!"
Patrick exclaimed. Sarah ushered
the Treadways in.
It seemed to me that day that,
every time I saw Llolly Eames ?
Molly Treadway I mean ? she was
more beautiful than the last time
I saw her. Something splendid
had flowed into her psychology. Of
course 1 know now that it was the
certainty that she and Walter be
longed to each other forever. Al
most as definitely but not quite
so obviously, Walter too had be
come another person. Happiness
seemed to have cleared all kinds
of mists from his mind. He walked
with a different step. He met
one's eye with a different look.
Authority? that was it. Authority
as definite as a golden aura exuded
from him.
"Sit down, children," I said.
"Patrick wants to talk with you."
I myself did not sit down. "I
think perhaps I'd better leave you
alone."
Involuntarily, Patrick made a re
straining gesture. He started to
speak and then apparently thought
better of it. He looked inquiringly
at the Treadways.
"Oh no, Aunt Mary,*' Molly re
monstrated. "Oh no!" There was
unfeigned emphasis in that second
no. And Walter reinforced her with,
"Please stand by, Aunt Mary! We
need you." .
"Of course I'll stay then." I sat
down making myself and that huge
uproar in my psychology as quiet
as possible.
Patrick began, "Walter, when
was the last time you came to
Satuit, previous to your coming this
time?**"? ? ?
Walter answered without hesita
tion, "Not quite three months ago,
I should say. Oh, I can tall you
exactly. It was Memorial day."
"How long did you stay that
time?"
"Just a day!"
"Did you spend the night?"
"No. I came in my car b y
night and I returned to New York
by night."
"Did your people know you were
here?"
"No." ~
"You didn't see them at all?"
"I saw them, but they didn't see
me."
"Where?"
"I came up to the house at night
and peeked in the windows. I want
ed to see if mother looked all
right."
(TO Bt CONTINUED)
I
The Wedding
By RUTH O. TUTHILL
? McClure Newspaper Syndicate.
WNU Service.
r) had driven her into town.
It was the first time they had
been out together since Dick had
told her. That was six months ago.
Six months of suspense and tension
trying to decide what to do. Putting
on a brave face before people ?
pretending nothing was the matter.
"Funny that we should be going to
? wedding together, Dick!"
"Ghastly!" said Dick. And then:
"Joan, do you mind if I don't go
with you? I don't believe I can stick
It."
"You've got to. Kate mustn't
know anything 's happened between
us."
"Why?"
"Because Kate believes that no
matter how unsatisfactory her own
marriage was, ours was perfect."
"Well, wasn't it?"
"It was until you spoiled it."
"My God!" flamed Dick. "Can't
you understand?"
"Perfectly. But that doesn't
change anything. Oh, what's the
use of going over and over what's
happened? We're here for Kate's
daughter's wedding. Kate's best
hope for Adeline is that her mar
riage will turn out like ours. I be
lieve she'd almost forbid the bans
if she guessed what a mess we've
made of it."
The church was sweet with the
smell of lilies. Joan took the arm
of an usher and went up the aisle to
the white-ribboned enclosure. Dick
followed. They sat together in the
high-backed pew.
Gossip all around them. "Do you
know, I've always thought Kate is
still in love with Charles Marshall
in spite of divorcing him. I think a
woman's a fool to divorce a man
she still loves no matter what he's
done."
It was after this last remark that
Joan's eyes encountered Dick's. She
turned away from their pleading.
"There's Adeline's mother." Kate
was walking down the aisle. Little,
determined Kate with lips that were
close and hard with repression and
denial of what she wanted most in
life.
Charles Marshall had taken his
place among the guests. Immacu
lately dressed with a gardenia in
his lapel. "Glad he had the decency
not to bring that woman with him!"
someone exclaimed.
"Do you mean his wife?"
"Oh, well of course he married
her!" came the grudging response.
Suppose she divorced Dick. Would
he marry "that woman?" Joan won
dered. That woman, he'd assured
her over and over again even with
tears, he'd never cared a darn for,
in spite of what had happened. "I
haven't seen her since. It was just
one of those things!"
The exultant strains of the wed
ding march. Adeline's handsome
young man waiting for her at the
chancel. The bridesmaids advancing
with their big bouquets of white
roses. And Adeline coming down
the aisle on her young brother's
arm. Past her father. Past her
mother. On and on to where her
young man stood waiting. The light
in Adeline's eyes as she came to
him!
it was over. Aaeime too* ner Hus
band's first kiss. Took and returned
it with young, unabashed passion.
The possibility of everything Joan
had known was in that kiss.
Suddenly the tears came into her
eyes. They rolled down her cheeks.
She couldn't find her handkerchief.
"Here's mine, honey." Dick was
offering her his; fresh, unfolded.
She tried to smile. "Thanks. I'm
such a fool!"
The look in Dick's eyes. Tears,
too. "Oh, honey," he begged, "say
you love me!"
A woman is a fool to divorce a
man she still loves no matter what
he's done. Whoever had said that
was wise.
That look in Dick's eyes! Only
one way to reply to a look like
that. The chattering, milling crowd
laughed to see them kiss.
"Renewing your wedding vows?"
someone asked.
"Yes," said Joan. "Not that they
need renewing. You see, they've
never been broken."
Near Enongh
"What we want," said the an- I
anchist, "is a state of society in
which anybody can help himself to
anything he wants."
"We are already near enough to
that atate of society," said Miss
Cayenne. "Our cook, our butler and
all the rest of the help have been
doing so for years."
Wen That's That
Old Miss Wrinkles (whispering to
a friend) ? Don't mention it, but did
you know there is a secret connect
ed with my birth?
Friend ? Sure, and I know what It
is; it is the date. ? Florida Time*
Union.
First Umbrellas to U. 8.
Umbrellas were first shipped to the
U. S. in 1772, to Baltimore, where
they were regarded aa an item of
feminine apparel. These umbrellas
were made of oiled linen stretched
over rattan sticks.
He's No Know Maa
First Clerk? Have you and your
boss ever had any differences of
opinion?
Second Ditto? Yes, but he doesn't
know itl
UNCOMMON
AMERICANS
? ? ?
By Elmo C Western
Scott Watson N*J?1 T'
Sam Hawken, Riflemaker
WHAT a Stradivanus is to vio
linists, a Hawken rifle is to
those who love fine firearms. For
a genuine example of the work
manship of "Old Sam" Hawken of
St. Louis is one of the rarest weap
ons in existence. So far as is
known, there are only five.
But it is not alone the rarity of
these rifles which makes them in
teresting. It's a case of "the man
behind the gun" as well. He was
Samuel Hawken, born of Pennsyl
vania Dutch stock in Maryland in
1792. He was a soldier in the War
of 1812 and after his return from
it he began practicing the trade of
gunsmith.
In 1822 he moved to St. Louis
where his brother, Jacob Hawken,
was already engaged in making
guns. That was the golde i era of
the fur trade and the fame of the
rifles which Samuel and Jacob
Hawken were making soon spread
all along the frontier because they
w?re the most accurate and finest
pieces of workmanship available,
not even excepting the famous Ken
tucky "long ifles."
The demand for Hawken's prod
uct was limited only by the supply,
which was small. For Hawken
made every rifle by hand, welding
the barrels out of strips of iron
which he got from an iron furnace
on the Meramec river in Missouri.
These strips were hammered into
five-inch lengths and welded around
a steel mandrel, thus making the
tube which was bored out with a
rifling tool afterwards. It was a
tedious and thoroughgoing job of
work, unusual even in those days of
careful and honest craftsmanship.
But what was even more unusual
was the fact that Hawken had one
price for his rifles. That was $25 ?
no more, no less. He could have
had twice or three times that price,
so great was the demand, but he
refused to charge more because he
believed that one price brought him
trade.
Jacob Hawken died during the
cholera epidemic of 1649 in St.
Louis and Samuel Hawken contin
ued in the business until 1859 when
he sold out to an apprentice, John P.
Gemmer who was running the
Hawken shop when Samuel Hawken
returned to St. Louis in 1861 to
spend his declining years. "Old
Sam" became a regular habitue of
the shop so long as he lived and
could scarcely keep his hands off
the tools, so greatly did he love
the work. Once Gemmer allowed
him to don an apron and make a
rifle complete as he had done in
years gone by and this rifle, prob
ably the last which "Old Sam,"
honest workman, ever made, is one
of the two Hawken rifles now owned
by the Missouri Historical society.
$50,000 Signature
THERE'S no doubt that John O.
Rockefeller's signature, or that
of J. P. Morgan, would be worth
$50,000 ? if it were on a check! But
the only American whose written
name (not on a check) has ever
been worth that amount was Button
Gwinnett.
Gwinnett was born in England in
1732. Despite that fact, he can be
listed as an American because he
came to America in 1770, was chosen
as a delegate from Georgia to the
Continental congress and was one
of the signers of the Declaration of
Independence in 1776.
The next year he was an un
successful candidate for governor
and he was also defeated as candi
date for brigadier-general of the
Georgia militia by Gen. Lachlin Mc
intosh. As a result of a quarrel,
Gwinnett challenged Mcintosh to a
duel which was fought with pistols
at 12 feet. He was mortally wound
ed tnd died on May 27, 1777.
Most of the 56 signers of the Dec
laration of Independence lived for
many years after that historic
event, wrote many letters or signed
many documents. But with Gwin
nett's career cut off in less than a
year after he joined that company
of immortals, he left few examples
of his handwriting. So his auto
graph is the rarest of all the signers
and it is that rarity which gives it
such great value.
In 1926 Dr. A. S. W. Rosenbach,
the noted collector, paid $22,500 for
a will which was signed by Gwin
nett as a witness. That was an
unheard-of price for an autograph.
But it was only the beginning of a
"boom in Button Gwinnetts."
Later in the year this same col
lector bought another ? this time a
signature on a promisory note and
it cost him $28,500.
In 1927 an all-time record for
autograph prices was reached
when Dr. Rosenbach paid $51,000
for a letter signed by Button Gwin
nett and four other signers of the
Declaration who were serving on
the marine committee of the Conti
nental congress. Aside from the
Declaration it is the only known
document dealing with national af
fairs which this Georgian signed.
The Game of Life
"TPH O S E who consciously
^ brood on their sorrows were
committed by Dante to the
deepest pit of hell. They are in
love with trouble. They like to
gaze on shadows. When all
comes to all, what we call the
game of life is just what make*
life worth living. Life's ene
mies are not cares and wor
ries, deprivations and misfor
tunes. They are its greatest al
lies. Its enemies are thi damp
fogs of the spirit, where there
are neither shadows nor light.
?Dr. Nanssn.
With great wealth comes
great want.
Dr. Pierce's Pleasant Pelliti are an
effective laxative. Sugar coated.
Children like them. Buy now! ? Adv.
Deals and Ideals
In politics, it takes a smart
boss not to let the deals crush
the ideals.
FEEL A COLD COMING?
Do tins* 3 things
q Keep your head dear
q Protect your throat
0 Build np four alkaline
LUDEN'S ccJTSU
HELP YOU DO ALL 3
Giving Pleasure
There is a difference between
trying to please and giving pleas
ure. Give pleasure Lose no
chance of giving pleasure, for that
is the ceaseless and anonymous
triumph of ? truly loving spirit.?
Henry Drummond.
CHEST C
HAD HIN IN AGONY,
RELIEF
from PAIN
No and to ?
?cony of muscu
lar aches and
paint I Thousands
report wonderful
" [ relief with Hamlins Wuard OiL
) it on ? rub it in. Acts quick. Re
i that terrible soreness. Loosens up
?till, achy muscles. Has a pleasant odor.
Will not (tain clothes. At ail drufgitfa.
soothing i
Just nib i
WIZARD OIL
For MUSCULAR ACHES .ind PAINS
Due to RHEUMATISM NEURALGIA
LUMBACO CHEST COLDS
Not Best
Absence of occupation is not
rest; a mind quite vacant is a
mind distressed. ? Cooper.
ndwrti.
NEURALGIC PAIN
qiUcke/ibecauie
it. i liquid ...
ALREADY DISSOLVED*
Guard
Guard well your thoughts and
your words will have much free
dom.
Clean System
Clear Skin
Too most be free from constipa
tion to hare a good, clear complex
ion. if not eliminated, the wastes
of digestion produce poisons and the
skin must do more than Its share Is
helping to get rid of them.
So for a clear, healthy skin, remember
the importance of bowel regularity. At
the first sign of constipation, take Blade
Draught ? the purely vegetable laxative.
It brings such refreshing relief, and tends
to leave the bowels acting regularly until
some future disturbance Interferes.
BLACK-DRAUGHT
A GOOD LAXATIVE
Though Hope Fades
O HEART, be brave!
And, though thy dearest,
fairest hopes decay
Hopes all fulfilled shall crown
another day;
Thou shalt not always grieve
beside a grave.
O heart, be strong!
Be valiant to do battle for the
right;
Hold high truth's stainless flag;
walk in the light.
And bow not weakly to the
rule of wrong.
-J. G. Whittier.
A perfectly just and sound
mind is ? rare and valuable
gift.