Newspapers / The News & Observer … / Nov. 24, 1895, edition 1 / Page 2
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2 TMMMFTKiE Old Mr. Saunders went home with bowed head and angry brow. He had j not known that Dick was in the habit of coming in late, but he had now no j doubt of the fact. He himself went to bed early and slept soundly, as a man with a good conscience is entitled to do. I bit the boy's mother must have known the hours he kept, yet she had said not mug; this made the matter all the blacker. The father felt that mother and son were leagued against him. He had been too lenient; now he would go to the root of things. The “young man would speedily change his ways or take the consequences. There would be no half measures. Poor old Mrs. Saunders saw, the mo ment her husband came in, that there was a storm brewing, and a wild fear arose in her heart that her boj was the cause. The lirst words of the old man settled the question. -What time did Richard come in last night?” **] —i don’t know.” she hesitated. “Shuttling,” her. husband always call ed it. She had been a buffer between father and son since Dick was a child. “Why don . you know? Who let him in.” She sighed. The secret had long weighed upon her. and she felt it would come at some hapless moment. -He has a key,” she said at last. The old man glared in speechless amazement. In his angriest mood he had never suspected anything so bad as this. “A key! now long has he had a key ?” "About six months. 1 not want to disturb us.” -He is very though t here does he spends his iiigkte, “I don’t know. He v me he be longs to a elnb, where z. a-kes some kind of exercises.” -Did he tell you he exercised with cards? . Did he say it was a gambling club?" “I don’t believe it is; I am sure Dick doesn’t gamble. Dick is a good boy, father.” “A precious lot you know about it, *I 4 I : a. y ■ ; 77 > r- St — 1 1 m jf| .<*••> /t . P‘ ■* ' ' ‘ * J : - ‘ 4 j 4 * y' > * X f * ’ • “How are you. Mr. SaundersP • evidently. Do you think his employ er, Banker Hammond, nas any idea his clerk belongs to a gambling club? “I am sure I don’t know. Is there anything wrong? Has anyone been speaking to you about Dick?” “Yes; and not to hjs credit.” “Oh dear!” cried the mother in an gish. “Was it Mr. Hammond?” “I have never sjx>ken to Hammond in my life,” said the ol#l man, relent ing a little when tie saw how troubled his wife was. “No, I propose to stop this club business before it gets to the banker’s ears that one of his clerks is a nightly attendant there. Y’ou wdii see Robert when he comes home this evening; tell him I wish to have a word or two with him to-night. He is to wait for me here. I will be in shortly after he has his supper.” “You will not be harsh with him, fa ther, Remember, he is a young man now, so please, please advise and do not threaten. Angry words can do no good.” “i will do niy duty,” said the old man uncompromisingly. Gentle Mrs. Saunders sighed for she we., knew the phrase about duty, it was a sure prelude to domestic trouble. When the old gentleman un dertook to do his duty, he nailed Jjis hag to the mast. "See that he waits for me to-night,” was the parting shot as the old man closed the door behind him. Mrs. Saunders had had her share of trouble in the world, as every woman must who lives with a eantakerous man. When she could save her son a harsh word, or even a blow, she was content to take either uncomplaining ly. The old man’s severity had put him out of touch with his son. Diek sullenly resented Ins boyhood of con tinual fear. During recent years, when fear had --gradually diminished and finally disappeared, lie was some what troubled to find that the natural affection, which a son should have for lii.s father, had vanished with it. He had, on several occasions, made half hearted attempts at a better under standing. but these attempts had un fortunately fallen on inopportune mo ments w hen the old man was not par ticularly gracious toward the world hs genera!, and latterly there had been silence between the two. The young man avoided hie father as much us ftossilne; tie wpuiu not have remained at home, had it not been for his moth er. Her steady, unwavering affection for him, her belief in him, and the remembrance of how she bad stood up for him especially when he was fn the wrong, had bound her to him with 1 Kinds soft irs silk and strong as steel. He often felt it would be a pleasure to go w rong, merely to refute his father’s ideas regarding the way a child should Im* brought up. Yet. Diek had a sort of admiration for the old man, whose many good qualities were somewhat over-shadowed by his brutal temper. When Richard came home that ev ening he had his supper alone, as was 'usual with him. Mrs. Saunders drew her chair near the table, and while the meal went, on she talked of many things, but avoided Yhe subject upjier Bv Hebert Barr. Author of “In the Midst of Alarms.’ (Copyrighted, 1895, by Robert I>a;r, most in her mind, w hich she postponed until the last moment. Perhaps after all she would not need to ask him to stay; lie might remain of his own ac cord. She watched him narrowly as she talked, and saw with alarm that there was anxiety in his face. Some care was worrying him, and she yearned to have him confide his troub le to her . And yet she talked and talked of other things. She noticed that he made but a poor pretence of eating, and that he allowed her to talk while lie made few replies, and those absently-mindedly. At last he pushed back his chair with a laugh that sound ed forced. “Well, mother,” he said; “vvliat is it? Is there a row on, or is it merely ’oom ing in the horizon? Has the Lord of Creation “Hush Dick, you mustn't talk in that way. There is nothing much the mat ter I hope? I want to speak with you about your club.” Diek looked sharply at his mother for a moment, then said: “Well, what does father want to know about the club? Does he want to join?” “1 didn't say y our father ” “.No, you didn't say it; but, my dear mother, your are as transparent as glass. I can see right through you and away beyond. Now, somebody lias been talking to father about the club, and he is on the war-path. Well, what does he want to know?” “lb* said it was a gambling club.” -Right for once.” "Oh, Dick, is it?” “Certainly it is. Most clubs are gambling clubs, and drinking clubs. I don’t suppose the Trne Blues gam ble more than others, but I’ll bet they don't gamble any less.” “Oh, Dick, Dick, I'm sory to hear that. And Dick, my darling boy —do you “Do J gamble, mother? No I don’t. 1 know you'll believe me, though the old man won’t. But it’s true, never theless. I can't afford it, for it takes money to gamble and I'm not as rich as old Hammond yet.” “Oh, yes, Dick, dear, and that re minds me. Another thing your father feared was that Mr. Hammond might come to know you were a member of the club. It might hurt your pro peets in the bank,’ she added, not wishing to frighten the boy with the threat of the dismissal she felt sure would follow the revelation. Dick threw back his head and roared. For the first time that even ing the lines of care left his brow. Then seeing his mother's look of in comprehension, he sobered down, re pressing bis mirth with some diffi culty*. Mother,” he said at last, ‘things have changed since father was a boy; I'm afraid he hardly appreciates how much. The old terrifying relations be tween employer and employee do not exist now—at least, that is my experi ence.” “Still if Mr. Hammond came to know that you spent your evenings at ” “Mother, listen to me a moment. Julius Hammond proposed me for membership in the club my employ ier! I should never have thought of joining if it hadn’t been for him. You remember my last raise in salary? You thought it, was for merit, of course, and father thought it was luck. Well, it was neither—or Ixith, perhaps. Now, this is confidential and to yourself only. I wouldn’t tell it to anyone else. Hammond called me into his private office one afternoon when the bank was closed, and said ‘Saunders I want you to join the Athletic Club; I’ll pro pose you.’ I was amazed and I told him I couldn't afford it. ‘Yes you can,’ he answered. ‘l’m going to raise your salary double the amount of entrance I 6 J “We’ll walk home together.” {fee and annual. If you don’t join I’ll cut it down.’ So i joined. I think 1 should have been a fool if I hadn’t.” “Dick, I never heard of such a thing! What in the world did he want you to i join for?” I “Well mother,” said Dick, looking at I his watch, “That’s a long story, I’ll ! tell it to you some other evening. I haven’t time to-night. I must lie off.” “Oh, Dick, don’t go to-night. Please stay at. home, for my sake.” Dick smoothed his mother's grey 'hair aud kissed her on the forehead. Then he said: “Won’t to-morrow night do as well mother? 1 can’t stay tonight. 1 have an appointment at the club.” “Telegraph to them and put it off. .Stay' for my sake to-niglit, Diek. I never asked you before.” The look of anxiety came into his face again. “Mother, it is impossible, really it is. Please don't ask me again. Anyhow, I know it is father who wants me to stay, not you. 1 presume he is on the .duty tack. I think what he has to say will keep till to-morrow night. If he must work off some of his senti- the \ew« and Observer Sunday. Nov. 24 *o* ments on gambling, let him place his efforts w here they are needed—let him tackle Jule Hammond, but not dur ing business hours. “You surely don’t mean to say r that a respected business man- a banker like Mr. Hammond —gambles?” “Don’t 1? Why Hammond’s a plun ger from Plungerville, if you know what that means. From nine to three he is the strictest and best business man in the city. If you spoke to him tin'll of the True Blue Athletic Club he wouldn’t know w hat you were talk ing about. But after three o’clock he'll take any odds you like to offer from matching pennies to backing an unknown horse.” Mrs. Saunders sighed. It was a wicked world into w hich her boy had to go to earn his living, evidently. “And now mother, 1 must really be off. I’ll stay at home to-morrow night and take ‘my scolding like a man. Good night.” He kissed her and hurried away be fore she could say anything more, leaving her sittting there with folded hands to await, with her customary' patience and just a trifle of apprehen sion, the coming of her husband. There was no mistaking the heavy footfall. Mrs. Saunders smiled sadly as she heard it, remembering that Diek had said once that, even if he were safe within the gates of Para dise, the sound of his father’s foot steps would make the chills run up his backbone. She had reproved the levity of the remark at the time, but she often thought, of it, especially when she knew there was trouble ahead- as there usually was. “Where’s Richard? Isn't he home yet?” were the old man's first words. “He has beeen home, but he had to go out again. He had an appointment.” “Did you tell him I wanted to speak with him?” “Yes, and he said he would stay home to-morrow night.” “Did lie know that 1 said to-night ?” “I’m sure that I told him you "Don’t shuffle now. He either knew or did not. Which is it?” “Yes, lie knew, but he thought it might not be urgent and he “That w ill do. Where is his appoint ment?” “At the club, T think.” “Ah-li-h!” The old man dwelt on the exclamation as if he had at last drawn out the reluctant worst.” “Did he snv when he would be _, 7T T J) 'i jj \ '; ! He sat grimly down with his bat on his head. home?” . - '- “No.” Very well. I will wait half-an-hour for him, and if he is not in by that time 1 will go to bis dub and have my talk with him there.” Old Mr. Saunders sat grimly down with his hat still on, and crossed his hands over the knob of his stout walk ing stick, watching the dock that ticked slowly against the wall. Under these, distressing circumstnaces the old woman lost her presence of mind and did the very thing she should not have done. She should have agreed with him, but instead of that she op posed the plan and so made it inevita ble. It would Ik* a cruel thing, she said, to shame their son before bis friends, to make him a laughing stock among his acquaintances. Whatever was to be said could be said as well to-morrow night as to-night, and that in their own home, where, at least, no stranger would overhear. As the old man made no answer but silently watched the clock, she became almost indignant with him. She felt she was culpable in entertaining even the suspicion of such a feeling against her lawful hus band, but it did seem to her that he not acting judiciously towards Dick. She hoped she might turn his resent ment from their son to herself and would have welcomed any*' outburst that would be directed against her a lone. hi this excited state, being brought, as it were, to bay, she had the temerity to say: “You were wrong about one thing, and you may also be wrong in think ing Diek in in what you think about Dick” Tht* old man darted one lowering look at her, and though she trembled, she welcomed tht* glance as indicating tht* success of her red herring. "What was 1 wrong about?” “You were wrong—Mr. Hammond knows Dick is a member of the club, lb* is a member himself and he insist ed that Diek join. That s why he rais ed his salary.” “A likely story! Who told you that?” “Diek told nit* himself.” • “And you believe it, of course!” Saunders laughed in .a sneering, cyn ical sort of way and resumed his scru tiny of the clock. The old woman gave up the fight and began to weep silently, hoping, but in vain, to hear the light step of her son approaching the door. The clock struck the hour, the old man rose without a word, drew his hat further over his brow and left the house. I'p to the last moment Mrs, Saun ders hardly believed her husband would carry out his threat. Now, when she realized he was determined, she had one wild thought of flying to the club and warning her son. A moment’s consideration put that idea out of the question. She called the serving maid, who came, as it seemed, to the anxious woman, with exasper ating deliberation. “Jane,” she cried, “do you know where the Athletic Club is? Do you know where Center street is?” Jane knew neither club nor locality'. “1 want a message taken there to Dick, ami it must go quickly. Don’t you think you could rim there—” “It would be quicker to telegraph, ma'am,” said Jane, who was not anx ious to run any w here. “There’s tele graph paper in Mr. Richard's room, and the office is just round the cor ner.” “That’s it, Jane; I’m glad you thought of it. Get, me a telegraph form. Do make haste.” She wrote with a trembling hand, as plainly as she could, so that her son might have no difficulty in reading: “Richard Saunders, Athletic Club, Center Street: “Your father is coming to see y r ou. He will be at the club before half an hour.” “There is no need to sign it; he will know his mother’s writing,” said Mrs. Saunders, as she handed the message and the money to Jane; and Jane made no comment, for she knew as little of telegraphing as did her mis tress. Then the old woman, having done her best, prayed that the tele gram might arrive before her hus band; and her prayer was answered, for electricity is more speedy than an old man’s legs. Meanwhile Mr. Saunders strode along from the suburb to the city. His stout stick struck the stone pavement with a sharp click that sounded in the still, frosty night air almost like a pistol shot. He would show both his wife and his son that lie was not too old to be master in his own house. He talked angrily to himself us he went along, and was wroth to find his anger lessening as he neared his destination. Anger must Ik* very just to hold its own during a brisk walk in evening air that is cool and sweet. Mr Saunders was somewhat abashed to find the club building a much more imposing’ edifice than he had expected. There was no low, groggy appearance about the True Blue Athletic edifice. It was brilliantly lit from basement to attic. A group of men, with hands in pockets, stood on the curb as if waiting for something. There was an air of occasion about the place. The old man enquired of one of the loafers if that was the Athletic Club. ‘•Yes, it is,” was the answer; “are you going in?” “I intend to.” “Are you a member?” “No.” “Cot an invitation?” “No.” “Then 1 suspect you won't go in. We’ve tried every dodge ourselves” The possibility of not getting in had never occurred to the old gentleman, and the thought that his son, safe within the sacred precincts of a club, might defy him, flogged his flagging anger and aroused his dogged deter mination. “I'll try, at least,” he said, going up the stone steps. The men watched him with a smile on their lips. They saw him push the electrie button, whereupon the door opened slightly. There was a brief, unheard parley; then the door swung wide open, and, when* Mr. Saunders entered, it shut again. “Well, I’m blest!” said the man on the curl). “1 wonder how the old duf fer worked it. 1 wish I had asked him.” None of the rest made any comment; they were struck dumb with amazement at tin* success of the old gentleman, who had even to ask if that were the club. When the porter opened the door he repeated one of the questions asked a moment before by the man on the curl). “Have you an invitation, sir?” “No,” answered the old man, deftly placing his stick so that the barely opened floor could not Ik* closed until it was withdrawn. “No! 1 want to see mv son, Richard Saunders. Is lie in side?” The porter instantly threw open the door. “Yes, sir,” he said. “They’re expect ing you, sir. Kindly come this way, sir.” The old man followed, wondering at the cordiality of his reception. There must, be some mistake. Expecting him? How could that be? He was led into' a most sumptuous parlor, where a cluster of electrie lamps in the ceiling threw a soft radiance around the room. “lie seated, sir. I shall tell Mr. Ham mond that you are here.” “But -stop a moment 1 don t want to see Mr. Hammond. I have nothing to do with Mr. Hammond. I want to see my son. Is it Mr. Hammond, the banker?” “Yes, sir. Ho told me to bring you in here when you came, and to let him know at once.” The old man drew his hand across his brow, and ere he could reply the porter had disappeared. lie sat down in one of the exceedingly cosy leather chairs and gazed in bewilderment around the room. The fine pictures on the walls related exclusively* to sport ing subjects. A trim yacht, with its tall, slim masts and towering cloud of canvas at an apparently dangerous angle, seemed sailing directly at the spectator. Pugilists, naked to the waists, held their clinched lists in menacing attitudes. Race horses, in states of activity and at rest, were in terspersed here and there. In the cen ter of the room stood a pedestal of black marble, and upon it rested a huge silver vase encrusted with orna mentation. The old man did not know that this elaborate specimen of the silversmith’s art was referred to as the “Cup.” Some one had hung a pla card on it,bearing,in crudely-scrawled letters, 1 he words: “Fare the well, and if-forever Still forever Fare thee well.” While the old man was wondering what, all this meant the curtains sud denly* parted and there entered an el derly gentleman somewhat jauntily at tired in evening dress with a rose at his button-hole. Saunders instantly recognized hint as the banker, and he felt a resentment at what he consider ed his foppish appearance, realizing almost at the same moment the rusti ness of his own clothes, an every-day suit, not too expensive even when new. “How are you, Mr. Saunders?” cried the banker, cordially extending his hand. “I am very' pleased indeed to meet yon. We got your telegram, but thought it best not to give it to Dick. I took the liberty of opening it myself. You see we can’t he too careful about tnese little details. I told the porter to look aiter y*ou and let me know the moment you came. Os course, you are anxious about your boy*.” “I am,” said the old man firmly. “That's why i m here.” “Certainly', certainly. So are we all, and 1 presume I'm the most anxious man of the lot. Now what y r ou want to know is how he is getting along?" “Yes 1 want to know the truth.” “Well, unfortunately*, the truth is about as gloomy as it, can be. He’s been going from bad to worse, and no limn is more sorry* than I am.” "Do you mean to tell me so?” “Yes. There is no use deluding our selves. Frankly, I have no hope for him. There is not one chance in 10,- 000 of his recovering Ids lost ground.” The old man caught his breath, and leaned on his cane for support. He realized now* the hollowness of his pre vious anger. He had never for a mo ment .eiieved the boy was going to the bad. Down underneath his crus tiness was a deep love for his son and a strong faith in him. He had allowed his old habit of domineering to get the better of him. and now in searching after a phantom he had suddenly come upon a ghastly reality. “Look here,” said the banker, no ticing his agitation, “have a drink of our Sjieeial Scotch w ith me. It is the best there is to be had for money. We always take off our hats when we speak of the Special in this club. Then we’ll go and see how things are mov ing.” As he turned to order the liquor he noticed for the first time the placard on r..e cup. “Now, who the dickens put that there?” .ie cried angrily. “There is no use in giving up before you’re thrashed.” paying which he took off the placard, tort it up and threw into the waste basket. “Does Richard drink?” asked tiu? old roan huskily, remembering the eulogy on the Special. “Bless you no. Nor smoke either. No, nor gamble, which is more extra ordinary. No, it’s all right for old fellows like you and me to indulge in the opecial—b.ess it—but a young man who needs to keep his nerves in order, nas to live like a monk. 1 im agine it’s a love affair. Os course, there’s no use asking you; you would be the last one to know. When he came in to-night I saw he was worried over something. I asked him what it was, but lie declared there was nothing wrong. Here’s the liquor. You’ll find that it reaches the spot.” The old man gulped down some o’s the celebrated “Special,” then he said: Is it true that you induced my son to join the club?” "Certainly. I heard what he could do from a man I had confidence in, and 1 said to myself, we must have young Saunders for a member.” "‘Then don’t you think you are largely to blame?” “Oh, if you like to put it that way; yes. Sill I’m the chief loser. I lose 10,000 by him.” "Good God!” cried the stricken father. The banker looked at the old man a little nervously, as if he feared his head was not exactly right. Then he said: “Os course you will be anxious to see how the thing ends. Come in with me,but be careful the boy doesn’t catch a sight of you. # lt might rattle him. I'll get you a place at the back, when* you ran see without being seen.” They rose, and the Banker led the way on tiptoe through between the curtains into a large room filled with silent men earnestly watching a play er at a billiard table in the center of tin* apartment. Temporary seats had been built around the walls, tier above tier, and every place was taken. Saun ders noticed his son standing near the table in his shirt sleeves, with his cue butt downward on the ground. His face was pale and his lips compressed as he watched his opponent’s play like a man faeinated. Evidently his back was against the wall, and he was fight ing a hopeles tight, but was grit to the last. Saunders only faintly understood the situation, but his whole sympathy went out to liis boy, and he felt an in stinctive hatred of the confident op ponent who was knocking the balls about with h reckless accuracy which was evidently bringing dismay to the hearts of at least half of the onlookers. All at once there was a burst of ap plause, anil the j laser Mood up straight with a laugh. “By Jove," cried the banker, “lie’s missed. Didn’t put enough st ick behind it. That comes of being too blamed sure. Shouldn't wonder but there is going to Ik* a turn of luck. Perhaps you’ll prose a mascot, Mr. Saunders.” talk *as young' Saunders stood then* chalking his rue, apparent Is loth to begin. and spoke eagerly now to one, now next him: “What is it ail about? Is this an im portant match?” Important! You bet it is. I suppose, there’s more money on this game than svas ever put up on a billiard match lie fore. Why, Jule Hammond alone has SIO,OOO on Saunders” The old man gase a quivering sigh of relief. He was beginning to under stand. The SIO,OOO. then, was not the figures of a defalcation. "Yes,” continued the other, it's the great match for the cup. There's been a series of games, and this is the cul minating one. Prognor lias won one, and Saunders one; now this game set tles it. Prognor is the man of tin* High Filers' Club. He’s a go<Ml one. Saunders won the cup for this clublast year, so they can’t kick much if thev lose it now. They’ve never had a man * to touch Saunders in this club since it began. 1 doubt if there's another ama teur like him in this country. He’s a man to be proud of, although he seem ed to go to pieces to-night. They'll all be down on him to-morrow if they lose their money, although he don’t'make anything one way or another. I be lieve it’s the high betting that's made him so anxious and spoiled his play.” “Hush, hush!” was whispered around the room. Young Saunders had begun to play. Prognor stood by with a su perior smile on his lips. He was cer tain to go put when his turn came again. Saunders played very carefully, tak ing no risks, and his father. watched him with absorbed, breathless interest. Though he knew nothing of the game, he soon began to see how points were made. The boy never looked up from the gren cloth and the balls. He step ped around the table to his different positions without hurry, and yet with out undue tardiness. All eyes were fastened on his play, and there was not a sound in tin* large ritoom but'the ever recurring of the click-elaolt of the balls. The father marvelled at the al most magical command the player had over the ivory spheres. They came and went, rebounded and struck, seem ingly because he willed this result or that. There was a dexterity of touch, an accurate measurement of force, a correct estimate of angles, a truth of the eye, and a muscular control that left the old man amazed that the com bination of all these delieate niceties were concentrated in one person, and that person his own son. At last two of the balls lay close to gether, and the young man, playing very deftly, appeared to be able to keep them in that position as if lie might go on scoring indefinitely. He went on in this way for some time when suddenly the silence was broken by Prognor crying out: "I don’t call that billiards, it’s baby play.” Instantly there was an uproar. Saun ders grounded his cue on the floor and stood calmly amidst the storm, his eyes fixed on the grceen cloth. There were shouts of “You were not, interrupted,” "That’s for the umpires to decide," “Play your game, Saunders,” “Don’t lie bluffed.” The old man stood up with the rest, and his natural combat iveness urged him to take part in the fray and call for fair play. The um pire rose and demanded order. When the tumult had subsided, he sat down. Some of the High Fliers, however, cried, “Decision! Decision!” . TTif-W is? nothing to decide,” said the Umpire, sevfTfijy/ t'O 0,1 with your play, Mr. Saunders.” * Then young Saunders did a thing that took away the breath of his friends. He deliberately struck the balls with his cue bull and scattered them far and wide. A simultaneous sigh seemed to rise from the breasts of tlie True Blues. “That is magnificent, but it is not war,” said the man lieside old Saun ders. “He has no right to throw away a single chance when he is so far be hind.” "Oh he's not so far behind. Look at tin* score," put in a man on the right. Saunders carefully nursed the balls up together once more, scored off them for awhile, and again he struck them far apart. This he did three times. He apparently secerned bent on showing how completely he had the table under control. Suddenly a great cheer broke out, and young Saunders rested as be fore without taking his eyes from the cloth. “What does that mean?” cried the old man, excitedly, with dry lips. "Why, don’t you see? He’s tied the score. 1 imagine this is an almost un precedented run. I believe he’s got Prognor on toast, if you ask me.” Hammond came up with flushed face and grasped the old man by the arm with a vigor that made him w ince. “Did you ever see anything grander than that?" he said, under cover of the momentary applause. “I’m willing to lose my SIO,OOO now w ithout a murmur. You see you are a mascot after all.” The old man was too much excited to speak, but he liojied I he boy would take nb more chances. Again came the click-click of the balls. The father was pleased to see that Dick played now with all the care and caution he had observed at first. The silence became (CONTINUED ON THIRD I’Aiie i Perfect Digestion Is secured by taking Hood’s Pills aftai dinner, or if digestion is Impeded £>y • chills and eon* changeable the liver end bowels. At home or abroad Hood’s Pills are a safeguard and a friend.
The News & Observer (Raleigh, N.C.)
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Nov. 24, 1895, edition 1
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