Newspapers / The Charlotte Observer (Charlotte, … / Jan. 22, 1911, edition 1 / Page 12
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,ipjjiiiIIIn'I iiiLii', 1^1 iii||ii|jj,iiiiii.:.ii;,i|i,, 1,11 ij, I 12 THE CHARLOTTE NEWS JANUARY 22 1911 THE MAiy HIGHER UP ^Affieneaj^ MILLEK. CofrngkU >9i«. The Bobb. MerrHl Book Two. IN THE MOULD. CHAPTER XVI. The Force at Work. Bob returned to treat tho city to a ■whirlwind oaiiipaiKn such as it had never known. As cocs in his machine ho had his inanapers .tnd lioiitrnanti^ and com mittees, Hut fr(»m n'w to the close of tlio campiiicii ht' ti>»»k upon himself much of their work as well as the or dinary but tr>inc functions of the can didate Nt' di'i.iil of xh*-' campaign was too ln55icnitii'ar.t to rt'ceive his atten tion Ho kno\\ to a nuin who were working ft r him Ui every precinct «>f the li i'.it and what work they V ('re Tht so workers he met in jiersni. iriv.nj: the bearer of favoi'- •iMo rei'o;'.- sfort words of praise lluit -^iin eV w sem him back to his l)r« cii’rr .ir 'e: :vLlned to do better still, :ind t«> otl' s wiio bad met with sreat- . r obsTa.'los a kindly encouragement that s’ift*! \i their resolution. ir \\;ts in'h’t: chanc('il manner to- u'.cn tViat amazed Has'trtu. "namiU'd it vou ain't ^ettiu' to he a rt'c'lar mi\. r." he ‘grinned late one I'iLb! or rather early one morning— its i'in and he walked home from ltPHdiiu;ii'‘*'J^ together. "You pot I'inil skinntd now. What's got into yiMi'?" 'Cod knowsi" Rob answered with a liard hiujrh. ■ W * 11. niebby He dors." Hapgin said i.l,;l.is(»iil'it ally. "What I know is. you're u.>:r t«' j:ive Mack the all-tired- esi li’kiu' he * ver cot." I't'uld it have been lU>b who made tht insw*>r? Xo, nu. Tom! You and ! !iav( deluded ouri-elves with that no tion Icni; e'lou.Kh. Not 1. i)ut the peo- I‘K', are fi' tiic: to wliip Macl’horson." Hai.i,'ln st'iorred in profound dis gust. "Aw. p'wan! You talk like Paul in his sMt'fches. Thi'y're coin' to do it ft‘r you. Guess th:it means you're doi'i' it." Why should they do It for me?" Jl;t'.,pin’s brow puckered over the p'ol'i. ’u "I know, but I dunno how ti> jay jr." What Hagfiin considered clinch^'r occurred to him. "W’ell,” i (• asked triumphantly, "il the |ieople’s dom' it all, what are you workin’ so hard f**r. hall killin' yourself'.’ Kven ou can't stand the pace yoii're set- I in ," "Vo!i can’t understand,” Bob growl ed hopelej^sly. "I've fi:^>t to." It Wits (piitt' true, what Haggin sug- Kesifd The strain was tellinp: even ('U llrl)'s stren^'th. Tnwonted hollows apj»ear'(l in his cheeks and temples. Hi- deep-set eyes sank deeper still. New lines sh>wt d about his mouth. Ibit f*‘verish activity was a necessit' to I'.ini. iM deaden ail thought of th thing tli::! liauined I'.im—the thint’ which, ur.’e-s h“ drau;ged home a body woarifd lo tl. ■ noiut 'f exhaustion ■Merrill CampMur "That’s different." "I don’t see it,” Paul answered im patiently. "Anyhow, I’m going into this.” . "All right. How much money have you?" "O. only a measly tw'o or three thousand.’’ Paul answered contcmpt- uousUv. “Well, go ahead.” Bob said with skeptical indifference. “You can’t lose* much and the lesson will be cheap at the price.” “But 1 tell you It’s a good tip,” and Paul pounded the table in his ear nestness, “and I w’ant to raise twenty- five thousand or so for it. 1 can tre ble the money in a week.” Bob smiled tolerantly, as though Paul had been a child asking for an expensive but useless toy. “What do you w’ant with so much money?” "O, I’m serious about this. Bob. Will you lend me the money?”. Hob did not answer at once. In the gray hollows the red-lidded eyes gleamed with a hot, fierce light. “Why not? W'hy not add one more link to the chain of obligations by w'hich he would break the hold of—■* lie stirred as one in sudden pain and left the thought unfinished. The hot. fierce gleam slowly faded Into a dull stare Paul did not recognize. The noon day stm was streaming in through the shadele.'ss window’s, yet Bob was seeing again the fact of the stricken woman, as he liad sleeplessly looked upon It through the small hours of that morn ing. accusing, fearing, appealing. To his thin face, ugly In its gauntness, sui-gel the slow, painful red. When he si)oke. Patil hardly knew’ his voice so constrained and querulous was it. "I can’t do it.” “Why not?” Hob's words came uncertainly. “I can't afford it. I need every cent that isn’t tied up, for the campaign.” "You could go on my paper.” Bob shook his head. "No, not on nn imcevtainty.” Paul said nothing. For a minute he sat by the desk, drumming his fin gers on the polished top. Then he rose. drawing a long. whistling breath, and without another w'ord went out. Bob stared In troubled prophecy at the doorway which Paul had neglect ed to close. He did not know that he spoke aloud, in the same constrain ed. querulous voice. "What is it? I can’t use the weap ons I have. The game has passed out of my hands. . . . And he’s not worth the trouble he causes. He’s not worth what I offer. He’s not worth— her. I’m not worth—her.” l^aul w’ont out into the streets, dis appointed. hurt, almost bitter against Hob. Poor Paul! He was one of those to whom the present want is always the keenest. In all probability tw’en- ty-four hours later the desire would !;ave lost its force, but when he left '^.ol) his one want was to clear fifty iiousand dollars in Consolidated Glass. \iid he could not know that Bob. wayed by a new’-born shame and self- iistrust—yes, sell'-distrust—had ref)is- d the loan only that he might never Ixept him to.-.sing in bed or pacing tin H: 11: slff'.'b'ssl' iho f:'.fe of a woman [i)o tempted to use the obligation as a wl'oiii ho IkuI tirutally struck dow'n club. in bis wild au:er. I And that day fate—]\Iurchell would But his work told. The city was in have said, the Force—busily interested a tiiriiii.il of political excitement. The in a greater than Paul, led him into prc's rev led in the opportunity, brist- iin'' with charges and counier-charges. Innuf-ndo and recrimination. At the club. ovfT lunch coimters. bv the fire side, men—and women, too—discussed and tn(^k siiies over the camjiaign. The children on the streets became bitter partisans. Murche.il was as good as his word. Soon afiei Hf.b's ret'nrn to the city he received from the ohl man a s^ul)stan- tial check lor the campaign fund. Also certain gentlemen who had hitherto been inacive took a sudden keen Interest in Bob's candidacy. But iiack of Murchell’s help, back of the newsfiaperp. back of the machine, wa.q the dynamic iiersonality of Bob Mc‘.\doo. Th** issues may have been "'I'he peoj.'le against the trust.’ "citi zenship against wealth." as Bob’s jir« ss and oratoi s declared, but to the Steel City the issues took concrete form in the p^rsc.n atui name of one, man. Hob ,Mc.\doo. Kither you were j for or you were atrainsf fiob Mc.Adoo; mostly you were for him. When, dur ing the last three weeks of the cam paign, he took the stump in person, speaking three of four times nvery evening, the schcx)l-housps were ])ack- rt to overflowing l)y friends and ene mies alike. He was no orator, but his phort. crisp Bi>eches were received w’lth greater attention and enthusiasm than even Paul’s fervid oratory or Mar tin's keen analytical argtimcnta. And Henry Sanger, Jr, waxed des perate. One' noonday—not two weeks be fore the elf'ctlon—Hob found himself alone in the “engine rcjom.” He lean ed back In his chair with an air of fatigue that sat strangely on his stal wart figure, and let his #^yes stare va cantly Into space. WTiile he sat thus abstractedly. Paul entered. Bob nod- cd mechanically. Paul addressed a remark to him, which did not pierce the abstraction. Hob made; no answer. Then Paul no ticed the absent manner. He repeat ed the remark more loudly. Bob came to himself with a start. "Kh?” he exclaimed. “O, it’s you, Paul.” Patil looked at him curiously. “What’s the matter with yon, any how? I said I’ve a tip on Consolidated “Which way?” Bob asked, without Interest. "To buy.” “All right. Sell.” “No,” Patil said eagerly. “This is a good tip. I got it from Brown, ilart- ley’8 broker. Hartley, you know*, is a director. Next week they’re going to declare a four per cent, increase in dividends.” “Humph! The broker who will dou- blecroas his client will do the same ^°“Not this time. I got It last night at th« club. Brown was yi one of hlB periodical sprees. I put him to bed and as a special favor to me. his ‘dear, dearesh fr’en’,’ he gave me the Boh grunted again fienteriously. “Steer clear of'the stock market. "But you’v® ipeculatod yourself, Paul retorted. dangerous paths. For when he reach ed the streets, his aimle ss tramping guided him past the First National iiank, W'hich, as all the city knows, is controlled by the Sanger interests. And fate must at that very moment l)ring Henry Sanger. Junior’s, auto mobile to stop in front of the bank. Sanger stepped out and, seeing Paul, paused long enough for a genial word and handshake before he entered the bank. Paul walked a few blocks far ther before the recollection of a cer tain promise brought him to a sud den halt. “If ever I can do any thing for you personally, let me know’,” Sanger had said heartily. Paul hastily and determinedly began to tramp again. “Why not?” demanded the desire of the moment. “Dangerous.” counseled Conscience. "Fifty thousand dollars Is a great deal of money,” suggested Desire. "San.ger has twice tried to tempt yon.” cautioned Prudence. "It’s a poor friendship that stands between me and my Interest,” sneered Desire. “And besides.” Paul argued with himself, “this is onl.v personal. If 1 yield to temptation, it will be for a greater thing than money. I’ll .just droj) in and see whether Sanger thinks well of the tip.” So he walked back to the bank and into the directors’ room, w’here sat Sanger. Sanger greeted Paul with a pleased surprise very flattering to our susceptible friend. For a few min utes they talked of various unimpor tant subjects. Then Sanger looked at his watch. ‘‘Anything I can do for you. Rem ington? Sorry, hut I’ve got to leave in a few minutes.” "Well,” Paul answered hesitatingly, "If It's none of my business, say so. It got a tip last night to buy Consoli dated Glass. W^hat do you think of it?” Sanger smoked reflectively for a mintite. "Can I depend on you to let what I say go no further?” “Certainly.” "It’s a g(K)d tip. Go in on it to the limit. You’re safe.” Paul laughed rather shamefacedly. “I’m going to, but my limit isn’t very big. About twenty-five hundred.” "W'hy don't you borrow and plunge?” Patil laughed again, this time sharp ly. “My credit doesn’t seem very good. I tried it *in one place I thought was sure, but it did no good.” • Sanger sent three beautiful smoke rings into the air thoughtfully. Paul had not said whom he had asked for the loan, but Sanger thought he could guess. Then he whirled sharply in his chair. “How mtich did you want?” “I asked for twenty-five thousand.” “Absurd, on a deal like this. Make it fifty,” Sanger said heartily. “Do you mean—” Paul began de lightedly. “Certainly, I mean it,” Sanger re sponded energetically. “I’m .going to instruct my broker to buy five thous and shares for you. Leave it to me,.” he added smilingly, “and if you’re not considerably richer a week from to day, you don’t owe me a cent.” Paul hesitated. Somewhere down In his heart there was a faint protest. “Of course, this doesn’t pledge me to anything politically?” “Of course not,” Sanger replied with an air of injured virtue. "I hope you doii’t think I would try to bribe you.” His slight emphasis was subtly flatter ing. Paul felt relieved. “This affair is between you and me personally, not politically. Of course.” he added, with a frank laugh, “I shouldn’t w^ant to use any of i( against me politically.” "C’crtalnly not,” Paul responded gratefully. "Mr. Sanger, you can’t imagine—” “Tut! tut!” Sanger interrupted bruskly. ‘‘No thanks. I appreciate your coming to me. Drop in and see me any time. Good afternoon.” And he held out a cordial hand to Paul, w'ho took it and went out, thinking bitterly: “It seems that an enemy can be more generous than a friend, some times.” That night Bob was scheduled to speak in the P'ourth Ward. And all Irishtown made ready. Well Haggln knew that no mere school-house audi torium would be ample for this oc casion. So a great, bare hall w’as hired. Flags and bunting galore had been secured—at Haggln’s exepnse—• and hung around the bare w^alls and ceiling, more profusely perhaps than artistically. Hardly had darkness fal len that evening when the streets and saloons of Irishtown began to fill with a boisterous, excited thrown on its way to the meeting. A half-dozen brass bands marched and played lusti ly. followed by as many McAdoo marching clubs, gaudily uniformed, trudging jubilantly through the muddy streets, carrying red fire and transpa rencies painted with loyal devices. One transparency In particular arous ed the wildest enthusiasm: it declar ed to the w’orld: “To Hell With liar- kin! We're for Bob McAdoo!” At eight o'clock the bands united before the hall and marched playing, to the platform. After them trooped the marching clubs and the noisy, riotous ly happy crowds—all Irishtown gath ered to welcome its favorite son. Dear, loyal Irishtown! 31any harsh words have been spoken of it by the Steel City’s stilk-stocking reformers. Always was it the backbone of this or that political machine; often w’as it the scene of the vilest corruption Hut Irishtowr* can be forgiven much for the thing It did that night and for certain majorities which It gave later. Of the real Issues of the cam paign Irishtown knew little and cared less. It was enough that the candi date was “th' grrand fightin' man” who lived in their midst and battled his way to mastery over the city. The meeting was notable, first, be cause Paul Remington made the poor est speech of his career. After Paul, Martin spoke. The audience listemid respectfully, but with inward impa tience: they had not come to listen to oratory, however glow’ing. While Martin was yet speaking, those near to the windows heard the panting of an automobile. “He's coming.” the whisper ran over the hall. Necks cran ed in anticipation: a few rose to their feet, gathered their powers for a shout. Several men quietly entered the plat form from a side door. After them came Bob McAdoo. Bob had been cheered before, and since then he has received “ovations” from greater and more select audi ences. But neither before nor since has he been greeted with the sponta neous. thunderous welcome which Irishtow’n gave him that night. Four thousand, and not a weak voice atiiong them, rose and shouted like madi, shouted and shouted again until for very physical inability they were com pelled to cease. Through it all the man lo whom they were shouting their loyalty stood, motionless and unsmil ing. stirred to the depths. Martin, interrupted in the midst of a climax, waved his hand approvingly at the crowd and joined in the cheers himself. As the shouting continued, he reached across the table and grasp ed Bob’s hand. "By God! old man,” he cried, with unvronted familiarity. “I’d give twen ty years of my life to be greeted like that just once. But Bob did not hear his w’ords or notice the hand-clasp. When the tumult died down, Martin took a seat, leaving his speech im- finished. and Bob began. It W’as not much of a speech. His voice was hoarse. The w’ords fell jerkily and with not attempt at orator ical flourish. But his audience listen ed intentlj", proudly. In less than ten minutes he closed, with these words; “You are my kind of people. I’ve lived most of my life among you. I know you and you know’ me. There are more dollars against me in this fight than you can grasp the meaning of. But the fight won't end until I die. I want you to stand by me.” The shout that met this appeal was a prophecy. When the meeting was over and Bob W’as shaking hands with his old neigh bors, Haggln espied Paul standing alone In a corner of the platform. He rushed over and clapped the young man vigorously on the shoulder. “Ain’t It great?” he whispered: his voice was gone. “Greatest meetin’ I ever seen. O, he’s a w’inner fer sure!” “Y ^s,” Paul replied, with a queer laugh, “He’s a winner—in this any- bovv.” He slipped away from the hall and went home alone. Hours afterward Kathleen, for the third night In succession, was awak ened by the sound of a steady pacing to and fro in the room above her. She arose and, hastily dressing, w^ent up stairs. Knocking, . she entered and w’ent to Bob. “Bob,” she said directly, “there’s been something wTong lately.” “Always, Kathleen,” he answ^ered in a tired voice. “Can’t I help you with it?” she ask ed .gently. He shook his head hopelessly. “No one can help me. It’s only that I’m* ashamed. Go back to bed and quit bothering about me, Kathleen. I’m not worth it.” Something in his voice and haggard face caused the tears to start to her eyes. She turned aw'ay and left him. The monotonous pacing to and fro began again. CHAPTER XVII. Stratagems. When Eleanor left the Dunmeade household she was convinced that she did not care ever again to see the grimy, busy Steel City. Therefore she went to New York, ostensibly to visit a friend of her schooldays; in reality, that she might think out the new prob lem confronting her. Two very gay weeks followed; gay, that is, on the surface. Yet even in the midst of the social whirl she found time to fight her battle. And she felt a sort of detached wonder at. herself, as she discovered how frankly and bravely she could accept the situation. There was one thing that she made no effort to disguise from herself. Every day she despatched a servant to get the Steel City papers. When they were brought to her she spent long hours pouring over them. One day they contained an account of a monster mass meeting—though the Gazette unblusingly declared it a “frost”—held in the city’s principal hall in McAdoo’s interest. She no ticed with vague misgiving that no mention w’as made of Paul Reming ton’s presence on the platform. On the first page of one of the papers was a photograph of the Republican candidate, the first she had ever seen of him; his eyes looked straight out at the reader. Long after the accounts had been read she sat, gravely study ing the picture. She remained alone until the afternoon waned, musing wistfully. Several times she caught her hands stroking the paper caress ingly; and once she had to rub her eyes vigorously—to see the better, no doubt. At last she came to a reso lution. “I will go back,” she declared to herself. "And tonight.” Calling a maid, she had her trunk packed at once. Nor could all the arguments and pleas of her hostess dissuade her. “Why do W’ant to go back to that place?” protested the latter complain- ingly. “Why should any one want to go to that dirty, ugly, common city?” “I must. If I didn’t, I might be come as provincial as you New York ers,” Eleanor insisted smilingly. “I know there is a man in it,” her hostess declared petulantly. Eleanor w’as rather proud of her laugh. “Two, my dear.” “I don’t believe it. One might en dure Steel City for one man, never for two.” “Nevertheless, I’m going home to night.” But as she said “home,” Elea nor felt a lump rise in her throat. She reached the city early next morning. At noon her brother came home to luncheon, much to her sur prise. It was his custom to lunch at one of his clubs. At its conclusion he made no move to return to his office; and Sanger was a busy man. “Well?” she queried, with a smile. “Out w’ith it. What did you come home to tell me?” •‘Eleanor, why don’t you marry Paul Remington?” “Why?” “Ho is in love w’lth you. He is a charming fellow. I have taken an in terest in him. He is a rising man— or can rise under favorable conditions which I am ready to insure. And, for give me, my dear, but—thirty is com ing.” She smiled pleasantly. “I’m not afraid of thirty.” “I’m serious in this, Eleanor,” he w^ent on evenly. , “It’s all well enough for you to ignore the future. Of course, you’re welcome to make this your home as long as you choose and to draw on me for what you want. But the time will come when you won't be content with this arrange ment. I have sometimes fancied that you are discontent already.” “That is, true,” she said, wth a sigh. “If you w^ere tomarry Paul Reming ton, it would be different. You would have a home of your ow’n and an in terest in the future—a big interest, too. As I say, he’s a rising man. Un der certain conditions, he has a chance for the next governorship—” “What do you know of Mr. Mc Adoo’s plans?” she asked, surprised. “McAdoo—” Sanger began, almost venomously. Then he went on calm ly, “McAdoo doesn't necessarily have the last w'ord in these things. After the governorship there is no reason why Remington shouldn't go to W'ash- ington. \Vith our money and influence back of him he would be of Import ance there. You 'and he could open an establishment and you could be a great help to him. "You would find it interestln,?, I imagine.” “\Vho guarantees these promises?” she asked, looking at him thought fully, “I’m willing to underw'rite them my self.” “Henry, just w’hat are you political ly?” Sanger answ’ered quietly. “My mon- ej"" Is one of the sources of political power. Personally, I am the opposi tion to McAdoo. Or, at least, I sug gested and am financing it.” Eleanor was startled. “Why?” “I think I’ll take you into my con fidence,” he began. Then he hesitated. “Why not?” as if to himself. “You’re a Sanger through and through. You’ll imderstand it.” “With me,” he said, addressing her directly, “it’s a qiiestion of how I am to apply my ability. I’m only forty- five years old and in perfect health. We Sangers aren’t idlers. I could go on and get together a tremendous for tune, so big that I’d be a slave to it. But I’m already w’^orth fifty millions—” “I didn’t know you were so rich!” “Very few’ even suspect it,” he re turned calmlj’. “That’s plenty, for any man, even in these days. And my holdings are so disposed that I have both time and energy to spare for oth er activities. Two years from now’ this state will choose a new senator. The choice, I think, will fall upon Henry Sanger, .Tr. And the minute I take the oath x)f office—” “If you do?” “W’hen I do, I become a national pow'er. My office multiplied by my money and backing. The senate is the most powerful body in our govern ment. Behind me w’ill be the influence of the principal financial combinations in the country. Only one man in the senate has the backing I shall have, and he is an old man. Soon he must die or retire, and his leadership will fall to me. I shall control the sen ate, which controls all national legis lation.” Sanger’s eyes began to glit ter. “And then, of course,” Eleanor laughed, “there is the presidency.” “It is within the possibilities,” he responded coolly. She looked at him with an inward wonder. “I thought you cared only to m^ke money! Y'ou dream big dreams, Henry.” “Why not? I have the brains. I have the money. I have the influence. I don’t recognize limitations.” He resumed, only the bright glitter in his eyes marking the ripple on his wonted serenity. “I'm not talking wildly. For some time I have been working solely to this end. I’m not the sort to waste energj'. What I suggest is now a cer- tainty—but for one thing. Between me and my ambition there is but one CANADIAN CELEBRITIES. Photograph of the next Governor-Gen eral of Canada, its present executive, who will retire and their wives. Above on the left is the Duke of Connaught, uncle of King George of Engluand who will be the next Gov ernor General of Canada; and to his right is Earl Grey, the present Governor-General of the Dominion Below on the left is the Duchess of Connaught and the right the Coun tess Graye. It is not definitely known just when the Duke of Connaught will take hold of his new office, but it will not be until after the Corona tion of Kin^ George in June. The Duke of Connaught’s regime in Can ada is certain to be popular. He will be accompanied by the Duch ess and the charming Princess Pa tricia. His staff will include some of the most popular and efficient men In the army. Colonel Cecil Lowther, who is to be the military secretary, counts a host of friends in the Unit- ed Kingdom and is thoroughly Amer icanized in spirit. obstacle—one man. Robert McAdoo. “Robert McAdoo!” ^ “Yes. For reason you w^ouldn’t nn-a derstand, this city is the key to the T situation in the state. If McAdoo wins T out, he will own the local organiza- ▼ tion. He will hold the balance of pow- ♦ ei-. And he has told me himself that ^ he intends to join Murchell and Dun- 4 meade. Not only that. It isn’t gen erally known, but Murchell can hard ly live out the year. The present cam paign is killing him. W^hen he dies, McAdoo will take his place. Dunmeade has big ideas, but ho can’t carry them out by himself. That is the import ance of this campaign. If McAdoo loses, he loses his hold on the local organization. It also lessens his value to Cousin .John. If Dunmead-e is left to himself, I have no fear of the re sult. Of course, in any case I can win out eventually. My money will w’ear them out in the end. But their victory now may delay my plans sev eral years. I'm not in the habit of waiting. Therefore McAdoo must get out of my way!” (CONTINUED TOMORROW.) We Are Ready ❖ Chronic Diseases of Men and Women With the largest slock of WATCHES, DIAMONDS and JEWEL- ♦ RY that it has ever been our pleasure to show. Two stores de ^ voted exclusively to Jewelry, Cu t Glass and Art Goods, gives us one of J the largest displays of Holiday Goods to be found in the South. A . visit to loth stores from our friends and customers will be appre- ^ elated. ▼ Garabaldi, Bruns & Dixon ^ 12 AND 14 SOUTH TRYON ST. I That Home For You We are now perfecting our plans for some new’ “BUXGAT.OWS" that we W’ill build in “Woodlawn,” Charlotte’s NEAREST and MOST PICTURESQUE suburb at an early date. Aren’t you tired of paying rent? Don’t you w’ant a home of yonr own? One that is ATTRACTIVE in appearance, and arranged for YOUR comfort and convenience, a REAL HOME! Como in and kt us talk it over with you. We will give you the benefit of oni oxi'o- rience and can make it to your interest to quit the rent habir. “Woodlawn” is so CONVENIENT and so PRETTY and AT TRACTIVE. G Try on St. Phone If you are suffering from any dis ease and have net been able to get relief, see Dr. Moss ai once and have a thorough examinaiion. The doctor has the confidence ot th^ people by being on the square honest wiin the public. Ni deception, no laise promises. If you :^re afflicted with Blood Poison, Nervoua, D«cline, Ca tarrh of Uead, Throac or Lungs, or any stomach and Liver Trouble, Piles. Rheumatism, Femaie Diseases of long standing, or any cnronic disease of any nature, I exv.nd a cordial in vitation to call ann consult me free of charge. Those who know me and know my oSace know I am an enthu siast over my work, and while 1 have to have pay for my work as a mat ter of courste, my charges are what I and the patient thing proper, not based on seeing how much I can scare and squeeze out of some poor unfortunate piece of humanity. If you will appreciate honest business meth ods and conscientious service, I shall be pleased to see you at my office. A personal visit is preferred, but the fact that you are out of town and cannot call need not deprive you of my services. If you cannot call, write for particulars, mode of treatment, prices and terms. Letters and office calls are free and confidential. DR. WM. M, MOSS. Specialist. Rooms 3 and 4 Davidson Building, East Trade St* Charlotte, N. 0. Hours: 9 a. ti. to 8 p. m. Sundays 9 to 1. Bring Us Ycur Minds Painting of Your Own Little Horae We’ll paint it, in reality, just as you want it. Impossible you say—your ideas are higher than you cnn ent afford? Not a bit of it, if you’ll but come to Parker-Gardner's. The ; i [ ing will be easy—the financial end will take care of itself—’ have your home just as you, in your mind, have pictured ar. i : ed it a hundred times—it’s all so easy at Parker-Gardner'b ■ ^ Are you not coming today? Parker-Gardner Company F^or Worn ^ and ofIVIusi« CHAKLUI I L, N. PALL TERM BEGINS SEPT. STH, 1910. , , .^9 FaciUtjr of Specialists in every Department. Thorough Work. Influenc6. City Advantages. Mu«ic, Art, Elocution SpecUlties. For catalosuo. Address REV. J. R. BRIDGES, 0. D* “Yoi ‘‘Not y.nc “Wei Anr; find rl And I by he ktiPvv opej a-; he about er 8&i( “Coi Phil fhe i '^as hi you ws uor \ fore. You notl hlWuysl Bn id, here y(j ’^hole badly 2..|r' , WellJ talked lel J
The Charlotte Observer (Charlotte, N.C.)
Standardized title groups preceding, succeeding, and alternate titles together.
Jan. 22, 1911, edition 1
12
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