of the
Gumberlands
By Charles Neville Bock
With Illustrations
,from Photographs of Scenes
in the Play
(Copyright. 9U. by W. J. Watt & Co.)
SYNOPSIS.
On Misery creek, at the foot of a rock
from which he has fallen. Sally Miller
finds George Lescott, a landscape paint
er, unconscious, and after reviving him,
goes for assistance. Samson South and
Bally, taking Lescott to Samson's home,
are met by Splcer South, head of the
family, who tells them that Jesse Purvy
has been shot.
CHAPTER II Continued.
"I hain't a-wantln' ter suspicion ye,
Bamson, but I know how ye feels
about yore pap. I heered thet Bud
Splcer come by hyar yistlddy plumb
full of liquor an 'lowed he'd Been
Jesse an' Jim Asberry a-talkin' ter
gether Jest afore yore pap was kilt."
He broke off abruptly, then added:
"Ye went away from hyar last night,
an didn't git in twell atter sunup I
Just heered the news, an come ter
look fer ye."
"Air you-all 'lowin' thet I shot them
shoots from the laurel?" inquired Sam
eon, quietly.
"Ef we-all hain't 'lowin' hit, Sam
Bon, we're plumb shore thet Jesse
Purvy's folks will 'low hit They're
Jest a-holdin' yore life like a hostage
fer Purvy's, anyhow. Ef he dies they'll
try ter git ye."
The boy flashed a challenge about
the group, which was now drawing
rein at Splcer South's yard fence. His
eyes were sullen, but he made no an
swer. One of the men who had listened in
eilence now spoke:
"In the fust place, Samson, we hain't
ef ye did do hit we hain't a-blamin'
ye much. But I reckon them dawgs
don't lie, an', ef they trails in hyar
yo'll need us. Thefs why we've done
come."
The boy slipped down from his mule
and helped Lescott to dismount. He
deliberately unloaded the saddlebags
and kit and laid them on the top 6tep
of the stile, and, while he held his
peace, neither denying nor affirming,
his kinsmen sat their horses and
waited.
ficu iu ijkscou 11 was paipaDie mat
some of them believed the young heir
to clan leadership responsible for the
hooting of Jesse Purvy, and that
other believed him Innocent, yet none
the loss in danger of the enemy's ven
geance. But, regardless of divided
opinien, all were alike ready to stand
at hi back and all alike awaited his
final utterance.
, Then, in the thickening gloom, Sam
son turned at the foot of the stile
and faced the gathering. He stood
rigid, and his eyes flashed with deep
passion. His hands, hanging at the
seams of his Jeans breeches, clinched,
and his voice came in a slow utter
ance through which throbbed the ten
sity of a soul-absorbing bitterness.
"I knowed all 'bout Jesse Purvy's
bein' shot. . . . When my pap lay
a-dyin' over thar at his house I was
a Jittle' shaver ten years old . . .
Jesse Purvy hired somebody ter kill
him . . . an' I promised my pap
that I'd find out who thet man was,
an' thet I'd git 'em both some day.
So help me, God Almighty, I'm a-goin'
ter git 'em both some day!" The
boy paused and lifted one hand as
though taking an oath.
"I'm a-tellin' you-all the truth . . .
But I didn't shoot them shoots this
mornin'. I hain't no truce buster. I
gives ye my hand on hit. . . . Ef
them dawgs come hyar they'll find me
hyar, an' ef they hain't liars they'll
go right by hyar. I don't 'low ter run
away, an' I dnn't 'low ter hide out. I'm
a-goin' ter stay right hyar. Thet's all
I've got ter say ter ye."
For a moment there was no reply.
Then the older man nodded with a
gesture of relieved anxiety.
"Thet's all we wants ter know, Sam
eon," he eaid, slowly. "Light, men an'
come in."
CHAPTER III,
In days when the Indian held the
Dark and Bloody Grounds a pioneer,
felling oak and poplar logs for the
home he meant to establish on the
banks of a purling watercourse, let his
ax slip, and the cutting edge gashed
his ankle. Since to the discovered be
longs the christening, that watercourse
became Crippleshln, and so it is today
Bet down on atlas pages. A few miles
away, as the crow flies,, but many
weary leagues as a man must travel,
a brother settler, racked with rheuma
tism, gave to his creek the name of
Misery. The two pioneers had come
together from Virginia, as their ances
tors had come befere them from Scot
land. Together they had found one
of the two gaps through the mountain
wall, which for more than a hundred
miles has no other passable rift. To
gether, and as comrades, they had
made their homes and founded their
race. What original grievance had
sprung up between their descendants
none of the present generation knew
perhaps It was a farm line or disputed
title to a pig. The primary incident
was lost in the limbo of the past; but
for fifty years, with occasional inter
! lie Gal!
vals of truce, lives had been snuffed
out in the fiercely burning hate of
these men whose ancestors had been
comrades.
Old Splcer South and his nephew
Samson were the direct lineal descen
dants of the namer of Misery. Their
kinsmen dwelt about them : the Souths,
the Jaspers, the Spicers, the Wileys,
the Millers and McCagers. Other fam
ilies, related only by marriage and
close association, were, in feud align
ment, none the less "Souths." And
over beyond the ridge, where the
springs and brooks flowed the other
way to feed Crippleshin, dwelt the
Hollmans, the Purvises, the Asberries,
the Hollises and the Daltons men
equally strong in their vindictive
fealty to the code of the vendetta.
By mountain standards old Spicer
South was rich. His lands had been
claimed when tracts could be had for
the taking, and, though he had to make
his cross mark when there was a con
tract to be signed, his Instinctive mind
was shrewd and far seeing. The tinkle
of his cowbells was heard for a long
distance along the creek bottoms. His
hillside fields were the richest and his
cove the most fertile in that country.
Some day, when a railroad should bur
row through his section, bringing the
development of coal and timber at the
head of the rails, a sleeping fortune
would yawn and awake to enrich him.
There were black outcroppings along
the cliffs, which he knew ran deep in
veins of bituminous wealth. But to
that time he looked with foreboding,
for he had been raised to the stand
ards of his forefathers and saw In the
coming of a new regime a curtailment
of personal liberty. For new-fangled
ideas he held only the aversion of
deep-rooted prejudice. He hoped that
he might live out his days and pass
before the foreigner held his land and
the law became a power stronger than
the individual or the clan. The law
was his enerr.y, because it said to him,
"Thou shalt not," when he sought to
take the yellow corn which bruising
labor had coaxed from scattered rock
strewn fields to his own mash vat and
still. It meant, also, .a tyrannous
power usually seized and administered
by enemies, which undertook to forbid
the personal settlement of personal
quarrels. But his eyes, which could
not read print, could read the signs
of the times. He foresaw the inev
itable coming of that day. Already he
he had given up the worm and mash
vat, and no longer sought to make or
sell illicit liquor. That was a conces
sion to the federal power, which could
no longer be successfully fought. State
power was still largely a weapon In
factional hands, and In his country
the Hollmans were the office holders.
To the Hollmans he could make no
concessions. In Samson, born to be
the fighting man, reared to be the
fighting man, equipped by nature with
deep hatreds and tigerish courage,
there had cropped out from time to
time the restless spirit of the philos
opher and a hunger for knowledge.
That was a matter in which the old
man found his bitterest and most se
cret apprehension.
It was at this house that George
Lescott, distinguished landscape paint
er of New York and the world at large,
arrived in the twilight.
Whatever enemy might have to be
met tomorrow, old Spicer South rec
ognized as a more immediate call
upon his attention the wounded guest
of today. One of the kinsmen proved
to have a rude working knowledge of
bone setting, and before the half hour
had passed Lescott's wrist was in a
splint, and his Injuries as well tended
as possible, which proved to be quite
well enough.
While Splcer South and his cousins
had been sustaining themselves or
building up competences by tilling
their soil the leaders of the other fac
tion were basing larger fortunes -on
the profits of merchandise and trade.
So, although Splcer South could nei
ther read nor write, his chief enemy,
Micah Hollman, was to outward seem
ing an urbane and fairly equipped man
of affairs. Judged by their heads, the
clansmen were rougher and more illit
erate on Misery, and in closer touch
with civilization on Crippleshln. A
deeper scrutiny showed this seeming
to be one of the strange anomalies of
the mountains.
Micah Hollman had established him
self at Hixon, that shack town which
had passed of late years from feudal
county seat to the section's one point
of contact with the outside world; a
town where the ancient and modern
orders brushed shoulders; where the
new was tolerated, but dared not be
come aggressive. Directly across the
street from the courthouse stood an
ample frame building, on whose side
wall was emblazoned the legend,
"Hollman's Mammoth Department
Store." That was the secret strong
hold of Hollman power. He had al
ways spoken deploringly of that spirit
of lawlessness which had given the
mountains a bad name.
When the railroad came to Hixon
it found in Judge Hollman a "public
spirited citizen." Incidentally, the tim
ber that it hauled and the coal that
its flat cars carried down to the Blue
grass went largely to his consignees.
He had so astutely anticipated coming
events that, when the first scouts of
capital sought options they found
themselves constantly referred to
Judge Hollman. No wheel, it seemed,
could turn without his nod. It was
natural that the genial storekeeper
should become the big man of the
community and inevitable that the one
big man should become the dictator.
His inherited place as leader of the
Hollmans in the feud he had seem
ingly passed on as an obsolete pre
rogative. Yet, in business matters, he was
found to drive a hard bargain, and
men came to regard it the part ef
good policy to meet rather tfcan com
bat his requirements. It was essen
tial to his purposes that the officers
of the law in his country should be In
sympathy with him. Sympathy soon
became abject subservience. When a
South had opposed Jesse Purvy in the
primary as candidate for high sheriff
he was found one day lying on his
face with a bullet-riddled body. It
may have been a coincidence which
pointed to Jim Asberry, the Judge's
nephew, as the assassin. At all events,
the judge's nephew was a poor boy,
and a charitable grand Jury, declined
to indict him.
In the course of five years several
South adherents, who had crossed
Holman's path, became victims of the
laurel ambuscade. The theory of co
incidence was Btrained. Slowly the
rumor grew and persistently spread,
though no man would admit having
fathered It, that before each of these
executions star-chambe conferences
had been held in the rooms above
Micah Hollman's "Mammoth Depart
ment Store." It was said that these
exclusive sessions were attended by
Judge Hollman, Sheriff Purvy and cer
tain other gentlemen selected by rea
son of their marksmanship. When
one of these victims fell John South
had just returned from a law school
"down below," wearing "fotched-on"
clothing and thinking "fotched-on"
thoughts. He had amazed the com
munity by demanding the right to as
sist in probing and prosecuting the
affair. He had then shocked the com
munity Into complete paralysis by re
questing the grand jury to Indict not
alone the alleged assassin, but also
his employers, whom he named as
Judge Hollman and Sheriff Purvy.
Then he, too, fell under a bolt from
the laurel.
That was the first public accusation
against the bland capitalist, and it car
ried Its own prompt warning against
repetition. The Judge's high sheriff
and chief ally retired from office and
went abroad only with a bodyguard.
Jesse Purvy had built his store at a
crossroads 25 miles from the rail
road. Like Hollman, he had won a
reputation for open-handed charity,
was liked and hated. His friends
were legion. His enemies were so nu
merous that he apprehended violence
not only from the Souths but also
from others who nursed grudges in
no way related to the line of feud
cleavage. The Hollman-Purvy combi
nation had retained enough of its old
power to escape the law's retribution
and to hold its dictatorship, but the
efforts of John South had not been
altogether bootless. He had ripped
away two masks, and their erstwhile
wearers could no longer hold their old
semblance of law-abiding philanthro
pists!. Jesse Purvy's home was the
show place of the countryside. Com
modious verandas looked out over
pleasant orchards, and in the same
inclosure stood the two frame build
ings of his store for he, too, com
bined merchandise with baronial
powers. But back of the place rose
the mountain side, on which Purvy
never looked without dread. Twice
its impenetrable thickets had spat at
him. Twice he had recovered from
"Ef It Hain't Askln' Too Much, Will
Ye Let Me See Ye Paint One of
Them Things?"
wounds that would have taken a less
charmed life. And In grisly reminder
of the terror which clouded the peace
of his days stood the eight-foot log
Btockade at the rear of the place,
which the proprietor had built to
shield his daily journeys between
house and store. But Jesse Purvy was
not deluded by his escapes. He knew
that he was "marked down."
The years of strain were telling on
him. The robust, full-blooded face
was showing deep lines; his flesh was
growing flaccid; his glance tinged
with quick apprehension. He told his
Intimates that he realized "they'd get
him," yet he sought to prolong his
term of escape.
Yesterday morning Jesse Purvy had
risen early as usual, and, after a sat
isfying breakfast, had gone to his
store to arrange for the day's busi
ness. One or two of his henchmen,
seeming loafers, but in reality a body
guard, were lounging within call. A
married daughter was chatting with
her father while her young baby
played among the barrels and cracker
boxes.
The daughter went to a rear win
dow and gazed up. at the mountain.
The cloudless skies were still in hid
ing behind a curtain of mist. The
woman was idly watching the vanish
ing fog wraiths, and her father came
over to her side. Then the baby cried
and she stepped back. Purvy himself
remained at the window. It was a
thing he did not often do. It left him
exposed, but the most cautiously
guarded life has its moments of re
laxed rUrtlance. . rie ttood then
slbly thirty seconds, then a sharp fu
sillade of clear reports barked out and
was shattered by the hills into a long
reverberation. With a hand clasped
to his chest, Purvy turned, walked to
the middle of the floor, and fell.
The henchmen rushed to the open
sash. They leaped out and plunged
up the mountain, tempting the assas
sin's fire, but the assassin was satis
fied. The mountain was again as
quiet as it had been at dawn. Inside,
at the middle of the store, Jesse Purvy
shifted his head against his daugh
ter's knee and said, as one stating an
expected event:
"Well, they've got me."
An ordinary mountaineer, would
have been carried home to die In the
darkness of a dirty and windowless
shack. The long-suffering star of Jesse
Purvy ordained otherwise. He might
go under or he might once more beat
his way back and out of the quick
sands of death. At all events, he would
fight for life to the last gasp.
Twenty miles away In the core of
the wilderness, removed from a rail
road by a score of seml-perpendlcular
miles, a fanatic had once decided to
found a school.
Now a faculty of ten men taught
such as cared to come such things as
tl?y cared to learn. Higher up the
hillside stood a small, but model hos
pital, with a modern operating table
and a case of surgical Instruments,
which, it was said, the state could not
surpass.
To this haven Jesse Purvy, the mur
der lord, was borne In a litter carried
on the shoulders of his dependents.
Here, as his Bteadfast guardian star
decreed, he found two prominent med
ical visitors, who hurried him to the
operating table. Later he was re
moved to a white bed, with the June
sparkle in his eyes, pleasantly modu
lated through drawn blinds, and the
June rustle and bird chorus in his
ears and his own thoughts In his
brain.
Conscious, but in great pain, Purvy
beckoned Jim Asberry and Aaron Hol
11s, his chiefs of bodyguard, to his bed
side and waved the nurse back out of
hearing.
"If I don't get well," he said feebly,
"there's a job for you two boys. I
reckon you know what it is?"
They nodded, and Asberry whis
pered a name:
"Samson South?"
"Yes," Purvy spoke In a whisper;
but the old vlndlctlveness was not
smothered. "You got the old man, I
reckon you can manage the cub. If
you don't he'll get you both one day."
The two henchmen scowled.
"I'll git him tomorrer," growled As
berry. "Thar hain't no sort of use
In a-waltin."
"No!" For an Instant Purvy's voice
rose out of Its weakness to its old
staccato tone of command, a tone
which brought obedience. "If I get
well I have other plans. Never mind
what they are. That's my business.
If I don't die, leave him alone, until
I give other orders.
"If I get well and Samson South is
killed meanwhile I won't live long
either. It would be my life for his.
Keep close to him. The minute you
hear of my death get him." He
paused again, then supplemented,
"You two will find something mighty
interestin' In my will."
It was afternoon when Purvy
reached the hospital, and, at nightfall
of the same day, there arrived at his
store's entrance, on stumbling, hard
ridden mules, several men, followed
by two tawny hounds whose long ears
flapped over their lean jaws, and
whose eyes were listless and tired, but
whose black muzzles wrinkled and
sniffed with that sensitive instinct
which follows the man scent. The ex
sherlff's family were Instituting pro
ceedings independent of the chief's or
ders. The next morning this party
plunged into the mountain tangle and
beat the cover with the bloodhounds
In leash.
The two gentle-faced dogs picked
their way between the flowering rho
dodendrons, the glistening laurels, the
feathery pine sprouts and the moss
covered rocks. They went gingerly
and alertly on ungainly, cushioned
feet. Just as their masters were de
spairing they came to a place directly
over the store, where a branch had
been bent back and hitched to clear
the outlook and where a boot heel
had crushed the moss. There one of
them raised his nose high Into the
air, opened his mouth, and let out a
long, deep-chested bay of discovery.
CHAPTER IV.
George Lescott had known hospital
ity of many brands and degrees. He
had been the lionized celebrity in
places of fashion. He had been the
guest of equally famous brother artists
in the cities of two hemispheres, and,
since sincere painting had been his
pole star, he had gone where his art's
wanderlust backoned. He had fol
lowed the lure of transitory beauty
to remote sections of the world. The
present trip was only one of many
like it, which had brought him into
touch with varying peoples and dis
tinctive types of life. He told himself
that never had he found men at once
so crude and so courteous as these
hosts who, facing personal perils, had
still time and willingness to regard his
comfort
The coming of the kinsmen, who
would stay until the present danger
passed, had filled the house. The four
beds in the cabin proper were full,
and som8 slept on floor mattresses.
Lescott, because a guest and wounded,
was given a small room aside. Sara
son, however, shared his quarters In
order to perform any service that an
injured man might require. It had
been a full and unusual day for the
painter, and its incidents crowded in
on him in retrospect and drove off the
possibility f Aeey. S&tosoa, too,
seemed wakeful, and. In the Isolation
of the dark room the two men fell into
conversation, which almost lasted out
the night. Samson went into the con
fessional. This was the first human
being he had ever met to whom he
could unburden his soul.
The thirst to taste what knowledge
lay beyond the hills; the unnamed
wanderlust that had at times brought
him a reetiveness so poignant as to
be agonizing; the undefined attuning
of his heart to the beauty of sky and
hill; these matters he had hitherto
kept locked in guilty silence.
In a cove or lowland pocket, stretch
ing Into the mountain side, lay the
small and meager farm of the Widow
Miller. The Wridow Miller was a
"South;" that is to say, she fell, by
I V-V$
"I Couldn't Live Wlthouten Ye, 8am
son. I Jest Couldn't-Do Hit"
tie of marriage, under the protection
of the clan head. She lived alone with
her fourteen-year-old son and her sixteen-year-old
daughter. The daughter
was Sally.
The sun rose on the morning after
Lescott arrived, the mists lifted, and
the cabin of the Widow Miller stood
revealed. A tousle-headed boy mad
his way to the barn to feed the cattle,
and a red patch of color, as bright
and tuneful as a Kentucky cardinal,
appeared at the door between the
morning-glory vines. The red patch
of color was Sally.
She made her way, carrying a
bucket, to the spring, where she knelt
down and gazed at her own Image In
the water.
Before going home she set down her
bucket by the stream, and, with a
quick glance toward the house to make
sure that she was not observed,
climbed through the brush and waa
lost to view. She followed a path that
her own feet had made, and after a
steep course upward came upon a bald
face of rock, which stood out storm
battered where a rift went through
the backbone of the ridge. This point
of vantage commanded the other val
ley. Down below, across the treetops,
were a roof and a chimney from which
a thread of smoke rose in an attenu
ated shaft. That was Spicer South'a
house and Samson's home. The girl
leaned against the gnarled bowl of the
white oak and waved toward the roof
and chimney. She cupped her hands
and raised them to her Hps like one
who means to shout across a great dis
tance, then she whispered so low that
only she herself could hear:
"Hello, Samson South!"
She stood for a space looking dttwn,
and forgot to laugh, while her eyes
grew religiously and softly deep,' then,
turning, she ran down the elope. She
had performed her morning devotions.
That day at the house of Spicer
South was an off day. The kinsmen
who had stopped for the night stayed
on through the morning. Nothing waf
said of the possibility of trouble. The
men talked crops and tossed horse
shoes in the yard; but no one went to
work in the fields, and all remained
within easy call. Only young Tama
rack Spicer, a raw-boned nephew, vore
a sullen face and made a great show
of cleaning his rifle and pistol.
Shortly after dinner he disappeared
and when the afternoon was well ad
vanced Samson, too, with his rifle o&
his arm, strolled toward the stile,
(TO BE CONTINUED.)
How Suckers Bite.
One Sunday morning, on his way
to church, a deacon observed a boy
Industriously fishing. After the lad
had landed several, he approached and
said: "My son, don't you know It is
very wrong to catch fish on the Sab
bath day? And, besides, it Is very
cruel to impale that poor, helpless
beetle upon that sharp hook." Said
the boy: "Oh, say, mister, this is
only an imitation! It ain't a real
bug." "Bless me!" replied the dea,'
son. "Well, I thought it was a reai
bug!" The boy, lifting a fine string of
fish out of the water, said: "So did
these suckers!"
Friend of the Farmer. -
Dr. Marion Dorset, bi-chemist of tin
federal bureau of animal industry, li
the scientist vho first isolated ths
germ responsible for that farm scourgs
cholera in the hog That accomplished,
he perfected a sorum to combat tt,
protected his processes by patents aaj
Chen turned them over to the pmWlx
to be used without charts
GAS, DYSPEPSIA
Ai INDIGESTION
"Pape's Diapepsin" settles sour
gassy stomachs in Five
minutes Time It!
You don't want a slow remedy when
your stomach is bad or an uncertain
one or a harmful one your stomach
is too valuable; you mustn't injure it.
Pape's Diapepsin is noted for its
speed in giving relief; its harmless
ness; its certain unfailing action in
regulating sick, sour, gassy stomachs.
Its millions of cures in indigestion,
dyspepsia, gastritis and other stomach
troubles has made it famous the world
over.
Keep this perfect stomach doctor in
your home keep it handy get a large
fifty-cent case from any dealer and
then if anyone should eat something
which doesn't agree with them; if
what they eat lays like lead, ferments
and sours and forms gas; causes head
ache, dizziness and nausea; eructa
tions of acid and undigested food
remember as soon as Pape's Diapepsin
comes in contact with the stomach all
such distress vanishes. Its prompt
ness, certainty and ease in overcoming
the worst stomach disorders Is a reve
lation to those who try it. Adv.
A New Anecdote.
Queer requests are often received
for prescriptions, which might puzzle
either doctor or chemist, far more
skilled than the proprietor of the or
dinary drug store. Here is one recent
ly reported by Morris Wade: It Is a
note from an excitable mother, whose
nerves were apparently as much In
need of treatment as the digestion of
her infant:
"My little baby has et up its father's
parish plaster. Please to send an anec
dote by the inclosed little girl."
Youth's Companion.
SAGE TEA AND SULPHUR
DARKENS YOUR GRAY HAIR
Look Years Younger! Try Grandma's
Recipe of Sage and Sulphur anr
Nobody Will Know.,
Almost everyone knows that Sage
Tea and Sulphur properly compound
ed, brings back the natural color and
lustre to the hair when faded, streaked
or gray; also ends dandruff, itching
scalp and stops falling hair. Years
ago the only way to get this mixture
was to make it at home, which is
mussy and troublesome.
Nowadays we simply ask at any
drug store for "Wyeth's Sage and Sul
phur Hair Remedy." You will get a
large bottle for about 50 cents. Every
body uses this old, famous recipe, be
cause no one can possibly tell that
you darkened your hair, as It does it
so naturally and evenly. You dampen
a sponge or soft brush with it and
draw this through your hair, taking
one 'small strand at a time; by morn
ing the gray hair disappears, and
after another application or two, your
hair becomes beautifully dark, thick
and glossy and you look years younger.
Adv.
The Only One.
"There goes Rev. Dr. Fourthly, one
of our most prominent ministers. He
stands on a pinnacle alone."
"Because of his great sanctity?"
"No. He's the only minister in
town who hasn't preached an antitan
go sermon."
MAN WOULD
NOT GIVE UP
Though Sick and Suffering; At
Last Found Help in Lydia
E. Pinkham's Vegeta
ble Compound.
Richmond, Pa. " When I started
taking Lydia E. Pinkham's Vegetable
Compound I was in a
dreadfully rundown
state of health,
had internal trou
bles, and was so ex
tremely nervous and
prostrated that if I
had given in to my
feelings I would
have been in bed.
As it was I had
hardly strength at
times to be on my
feet and what I did do was by a great
effort. I could not sleep at night and
of course felt very bad in the morning,
and had a steady headache.
"After taking the second bottle I no
ticed that the headache was not so bad,
I rested better, and my nerves were
stronger. I continued its use until it
made a new woman of me, and now I
can hardly realize that I am able to do
bo much as I do. Whenever I know any
woman in need of a good medicine I
highly praise Lydia E. Pinkham's Veg
etable Compound." Mrs. Frank
Clark, 3146 N. Tulip St., Richmond,Pa.
Women Have Been Telling Women
for forty years how Lydia E. Pinkham's
Vegetable Compound has restored their
health when suffering with female ills.
This accounts for the enormous demand
for it from coast to coast. If you are
troubled with any ailment peculiar to
women why don't you try Lydia E.
Pinkham's Vegetable Compound? It
will pay you to do so. Lydia E. Pink
bam Medicine Co., Lynn, Mass.
Ml